#and when I was done I had to discuss something with my roommate | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lovelyhan · 2 years ago

Text

— favorite poison ⟢

pairing: wonwoo x reader

summary: no strings attached sex is easy. catching feelings for a person you supposedly hate is hard. it's in times like this when wonwoo wishes he can set the dial to his life on easy mode forever, but everyone knows he's nothing if not stubbornly competitive.

word count: 15.5k words

tags: fuck buddies, not quite enemies to lovers, streamer!wonwoo, streamer!reader, attempt at humor, in denial!wonwoo, angst, smut

warnings: mentions of twitter porn, brief discussions of past trauma, slut shaming, mild violence (wonwoo punches someone in the face), graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: this is the sequel to underlying pretense! thank you so much for waiting so so patiently for this second part! big thank you to @playmetheclassics for proofreading this monster sequel for me >< i wouldn't have done this without you, indi UEUEUE

this is part of the game over series!

smut tags: implied semi-public sex, game chair sex? jealousy, clothed sex, use of handcuffs, brief spanking, car sex, unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, degradation, dirty talk, daddy kink, hard and soft dom wonwoo, creampie, cum eating, aftercare

svt taglist: @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @minnie-mouser22 - @dreamhannies - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @gae-uls - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @enhacolor - @ilyvern - @woo8hao - @tommolex

wonwoo taglist: @renjunphile - @acgyu - @potatofrieswithketchup - @pluviophile-xxx - @pretty-trustme

fic taglist: @appachicken - @bekah931215

part one - part two - part three - part four

“So when are you introducing me?”

The buzz of visitors inside the convention hall is already grating enough as it is, but when Mingyu walks over to Wonwoo’s designated booth, all it does is irritate him further.

He doesn’t exactly have to do anything aside from receive gifts from the viewers coming to pay him a visit and take a few photos with them, but Wonwoo is yet to accustom himself to being the center of attraction in front of so many people. So listening to his roommate-slash-best friend asking him stupid questions isn’t helping his case.

“To who? My family?” Wonwoo scoffs.

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “No. Your girlfriend, genius.”

“What the hell are you even talking about?”

His best friend pouts, and Wonwoo is having a really tough time taking him seriously because Mingyu is wearing one of those hats with bunny ears that flop around if you press the buttons dangling from the front. “You’re always scampering off with some girl from time to time. The others haven’t noticed, but I’m your roommate, hyung.”

Roughly three months have passed since Wonwoo bit the bullet and agreed to be your…fuck buddy? Not-so-friend with benefits? Whatever this arrangement is called, he’s satisfied with getting to let off steam every once in a while, and you don’t seem to have any complaints as long as he fucked you stupid and helped you make filthy content for all the world to see.

Honest to god, it’s a miracle how shit hasn’t hit the fan yet. But then again, you and Wonwoo were both careful and extremely selective about what gets posted on your secret Twitter porn account and what stays tucked away in the hidden galleries in your phones. That sort of cautiousness is rewarded with having to get away with everything you’re both daring enough to pull off behind the scenes.

Still, it doesn’t change the fact that, outside his sexual relations with you, Twitch streamers everyone_woo and Koyahngi pretty much hate each other’s guts. Even if yours is the best fucking pussy he’s ever had (something you’ll never catch him dead admitting aloud), he’s not about to do a complete one-eighty and treat you any differently in front of his friends and followers. You don’t seem to have any plans on doing that either.

Wonwoo hasn’t once brought you to their shared apartment, so he’s certain that Mingyu is basing all his hunches on pure intuition alone. And just because that intuition turns out to be somewhat right (PSA: you’re not his girlfriend) doesn’t mean Wonwoo has to come clean about his goings-on.

Besides, they’re at a fucking convention. Why is Mingyu trying to hotseat him now?

“What gave you the impression that I’m ‘scampering off’ with just one girl?” Wonwoo smirks, shaking his head.

“Whatever you say, elusive gamer who hasn’t felt the touch of a woman that isn’t his mom.”

“Fuck you. You know that’s not true.”

“Well, obviously, you’re smitten with someone, and once I find out who it is, I’m throwing the biggest party in Seoul,” Mingyu says with a huff of indignance coloring his words. He says it like it’s a threat, and Wonwoo makes a face at him.

“Why?” he asks with a scowl.

“Because I love you, that’s why.” Mingyu then takes off the stupid hat and places it on top of Wonwoo’s head—even putting the work into making sure it fits and everything. “Anyway, I’m heading to Koyahngi’s booth to say hi. You wanna come with, or do you still have a stick up your ass when it comes to hanging out with her?”

Wonwoo has to keep himself from blurting out how he’s not the one with anything up his ass when it comes to you but realizes that if he wants to get Mingyu off his back, he probably shouldn’t make traumatizing allusions to his sex life.

“I can’t exactly leave my spot until the main program starts. The same goes for you, idiot,” Wonwoo points out. “Who knows how many of your subscribers are looking for you at your booth? Go away and tend to them first.”

Mingyu pouts again, but since his best friend is a guy that’s literally a six-foot wall of muscle, Wonwoo doesn’t feel even an ounce of sympathy for him. “I haven’t even been gone for ten minutes! I just wanted to see how my friends are doing.”

“Then you shouldn’t have set up a booth at all, Gyu.”

“Hmph. You’re always so stingy, hyung.” Mingyu crosses his arms before turning on his heel. “Anyway, I’m heading over to Koyahngi’s. I heard she’s cosplaying Sage today. Not that you care, though.”

He sounds so genuinely sulky that Wonwoo would’ve laughed a little as Mingyu stomps away to head to your booth. But the mention of you dressing up as a Valorant agent that Wonwoo has started to despise since meeting you makes a couple of memories from earlier this week resurface in his mind.

Aside from the catgirl gimmick, your cosplays are but another selling point for your streams. You dubbed it the catgirlification of every playable character I like right after Wonwoo railed you two days ago in that same Sage cosplay that Mingyu just mentioned.

What a fucking weirdo, Wonwoo mused for a second before blowing your back out again, not five minutes later.

About an hour later, the program on the main stage was in full swing, and Wonwoo had just finished doing a little segment with Soonyoung that one of the fans who won a raffle requested for them to do. It was a Pocky Game that got a little too intense because Soonyoung wouldn’t stop fucking squirming, and they nearly kissed in front of the entire audience. Wonwoo doesn’t entirely mind because PR is PR, after all.

The thing he does end up minding, though, comes a little later—after the convention hall settles into a more relaxed atmosphere and everyone is back to booth-hopping.

Despite what he told Mingyu earlier, Wonwoo took it upon himself to do some wandering around. It’s kind of nice to see other streamers and content creators he’s only ever got to interact with on Discord or their respective streams.

But while he’s munching on a cherry-shaped cookie that Seungcheol is handing out to his visitors, the bane of his existence swoops down on him just when he thought he could finish this entire event in peace.

“Hey, daddy,” you giggle into his ear before swiping the cookie out of his hands, tossing it into your mouth without a second thought. “Didn’t think I’d get to see you today.”

Wonwoo clicks his tongue before shrugging off the arm you draped around his shoulder. “What do you want?”

“Nothing in particular,” you hum before swallowing the food you just stole from him. “But now that I got a taste of Cheol’s cherry cookies, I kinda want some more. Do you know where he is?”

“I think I saw him flirting with a bunch of cosplayers near the stage.”

Wonwoo startles at the sound of a third party’s voice intruding in your conversation, and from the looks of it, you’re just as startled as he is. Turning around, though, his apprehension ebbs away when he recognizes who it is.

“Johnny,” he says with a small surprised smile before offering his hand for a casual shake. “It’s been a while.”

The famous streamer returns Wonwoo’s gesture gingerly, but he realizes that Johnny’s gaze isn’t trained on him at all.

“It has been,” he chuckles before turning to you. “I didn’t know you were friends with Wonwoo, doll. How you got someone as cold as he is to warm up to you is beyond me, but at least you’re expanding your network.”

Wonwoo would’ve rolled his eyes. Johnny is just as frank as he remembers. But before Wonwoo can point out that: 1.) you and him are not friends, and 2.) he is not a cold person and therefore has absolutely no need to warm up to anyone, he quickly picks up on the sudden shift in the air. And it’s not his or Johnny’s discomfort he’s sensing right now.

“Nah, you’ve got the wrong idea,” you respond to Johnny casually, but Wonwoo doesn’t miss how your fists are clenched at your sides. “Wonwoo would rather get banned from Twitch than call me his friend. I just like pissing him off every now and again, is all~ That, and his friends are pretty cool, so I need to tolerate him.”

Johnny laughs before reaching down to ruffle your carefully styled wig. To others, it would’ve looked like a display of casual affection between friends, but Wonwoo is keen enough to notice how you momentarily flinched from the older streamer’s touch. His brows knit together as he attempts to figure out what was going on.

Actually, how do you even know Johnny in the first place?

“Anyway, I’ll be going now,” he laughs before letting one eye drop into a wink. “It’s good to see both of you. Enjoy the rest of the convention, yeah?”

As Johnny exits, you’re a little too quick to fill in the silence he left.

“You’ve gotta take me to Cheol before he runs out of cookies,” you whine, tugging on his arm with a persistent look on his face—not even breathing a word about Johnny, as if it hasn’t been two minutes since he left. “I’m pretty sure I saw him wearing a Pikachu onesie, so he should be easy to—”

Wonwoo immediately cuts you off with a quick yank of your wrist. As he leads you to one of the unoccupied restrooms near the convention hall, your voice drones in annoyingly repetitive succession in his ears while you struggle to free yourself from his grip, but Wonwoo just won’t budge.

Not when he can’t get the sight of you with genuine fear in your gaze when you first laid your eyes on Johnny out of his head.

“Shit,” you whisper hoarsely the moment Wonwoo slams you against the door—a shit-eating grin resting haughtily on your lips as he nudges your thighs apart. “I knew you were possessive, but not this much. Johnny just gave me a few head pats, daddy. It doesn’t mean a thing.”

Yeah. Wonwoo is totally doing this out of some pathetic, alpha male need to stake his claim after another man got his grubby hands on you. Not because he was bothered by that look on your face and can’t think of any other way to help get your mind off it aside from fucking you senseless in a public bathroom.

“Shut up,” he murmurs before forcing your cheek against the cold door. “Now, take off your leggings before I tear a hole in them myself. Can’t mess up your perfect fucking Sage cosplay now, can we?”

You let out a noise caught between a sigh and a whimper as you do as you're told. From three months ago to now, your general opinion on Jeon Wonwoo as a dom has yet to change. Even if he was about to rail you with a fluffy bunny beanie still resting on top of his head.

He’s fucking perfect.

Right after that unplanned quickie, Wonwoo is at least keen enough to observe his surroundings as both of you discreetly part ways and sneak back into the convention. Since the main events were taking place on the other side of the venue, not a lot of people were milling around, and he thankfully manages to blend into the crowd without rousing everyone’s suspicion.

Well, almost everyone.

“You’re a pretty shitty actor; you know that?”

Wonwoo doesn’t have to turn around to recognize the smugness in Seungcheol’s tone. The moment he lays his eyes on one of his closest friends—still wearing that silly Pikachu onesie and giving out his cherry cookies—he knows he can’t weasel himself out of this conversation so easily.

“What do you mean?” Wonwoo says, deciding to play along to gauge what Seungcheol does and doesn’t know.

The older man scoffs. “Come on, Wonwoo-yah. You weren’t being very discreet when you pulled our very good cat girl friend into the restroom. Doesn’t help that you both came out looking dishevelled as fuck. So much for hating each other, huh?”

Okay. He has nothing left to hide then. Great.

“Were we that obvious?” Wonwoo lowers his voice into a whisper, and the only reason he’s genuinely asking is because Seungcheol isn’t the type to joke around about these kinds of things.

“Only to the eyes of someone who personally knows the both of you,” he snickers. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

Wonwoo’s brows knit together, perplexed, but offers no more smart retorts. His heart is still pounding in his chest at the thought of having been seen with you. Fuck. He isn’t usually this careless. Then and there, he makes a mental note to not let his emotions pull the reins on his decisions next time.

“Thanks, hyung,” is all he tells Seungcheol in return. “I’m heading back. Uh, she was looking for you, by the way. Something about wanting more of your cookies.”

Seungcheol visibly perks up at the news, and Wonwoo has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. What is it with his friends and having some weird soft spot for you?

As Wonwoo quietly slips back into his booth—greeting a bunch of his fans but not in a sociable mood—he recalls the prickle of heat in his chest when he saw how uncomfortable you were during that short conversation with Johnny. The memory makes his curiosity spike again, and he considers asking you about it the next time you invite him over.

But then he reminds himself that he does not have a soft spot for you unlike his friends. None at all. He’s just being a decent human being for having a modicum of concern because of how you reacted towards someone Wonwoo knows to be completely harmless.

Aside from the occasional NSFW spam on Twitter, Johnny’s pretty harmless, right?

“Hyung! Group pic, c’mon!”

Wonwoo hears Mingyu call out to him several booths over and sighs. He probably shouldn’t put too much thought into something he won’t be able to figure out in the next five minutes anyway.

The next time Wonwoo comes over to your apartment is to try out some new heart-shaped handcuffs you bought online. You wouldn’t stop gushing about it to him over text, and he has half the mind to just cuff you to the bed and leave because of how annoying you’re being.

But for some reason, the handcuffs lay forgotten on your unmade bed as Wonwoo sits right in front of your set-up—begrudgingly listening to your instructions as he attempts to solve an overworld puzzle in that stupid game you and Soonyoung kept pestering him to play. Genshin Impact, yeah, that’s the one.

“You have to hit the purple towers with Electro attacks, idiot,” you sigh. “Dendro is for green towers. Hydro is for blue towers. Did you happen to skip kindergarten or something?”

“I thought elemental reactions applied to these, too,” he grumbles. “You’re the one who said that Dendro and Hydro are good with Electro.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep making excuses, color dunce.”

Normally, Wonwoo wouldn’t have taken the insult lying down, but he stubbornly chooses to solve the puzzle until he’s finally unlocked the hidden desert area you claimed to be ‘too lazy to figure out right away’. A hint of smugness crosses his features as he flashes you a triumphant grin. Wonwoo half-expects you to just roll your eyes and blame his progress on dumb luck or something, but to his surprise, you clap your hands gleefully before placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“Who’s my smart little gamer, huh?”

“Fuck off.”

It’s perfectly normal for him to hear you challenge his authority outside the bedroom. After all, you’ve made it your life’s mission to push all of Wonwoo’s buttons until he cracks and manhandles you in a way that leaves no room for your brattiness to slip out. Sometimes he likes to think that you rile him up on purpose because the so-called consequences end up rewarding you sexually tenfold instead. Which, Wonwoo thinks, is fucking sick, but from how much he lets you get away with it anyway, he figures that he’s got a few screws loose himself.

“Anyway, how about we check if you’ve got shit luck on gacha games or not,” you announce before nudging your customized gaming chair with your foot—the same one Wonwoo’s currently sitting on—so you can have better access to your mouse and keyboard. “Soonyoung’s luck is abysmal as hell. The only reason he’s got such a spiffy account is because of all those sponsors.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “Are you saying yours is any better?”

“Hey, I’ve got decent luck, mind you,” you huff before clicking a few times, and a new window pulls up on-screen, which Wonwoo recognizes as the wishing page. Soonyoung has shown it to him and the other guys enough times to remember what it looks like.

“Go on, just click the times ten button,” you urge him before tugging your gaming chair back to its original position. “It’s gonna let you wish for a character ten times, basically.”

“I know how gacha games work,” Wonwoo bites back.

“Of course you do,” you coo as he finally does a full summons.

He swears he’s going to edge you until you’re begging and crying later. It’s the least you could do for being such a pain in—

His vengeful thoughts are interrupted when you gasp out loud—eyes glued to the monitor as the shooting star glows like iridescent gold. Wonwoo doesn’t know shit about Genshin, but he’s pretty sure he just pulled a really rare character.

“I just pulled a five-star yesterday.” You scowl, staring at him disbelievingly. “How on earth—”

To your dismay, Wonwoo accidentally clicks on your mouse—ending the entire animation sequence a bit too early. But just when you’re about to berate him for being impatient, your jaw practically falls to the floor when you see all ten of your (technically Wonwoo’s) wish results.

He managed to bring home the featured five-star character five times. Five fucking times. Holy shit?

As you visibly freak out in your seat, bemoaning the fact that this legendary pull happened off-stream, Wonwoo stares at you bizarrely like he always does. You immediately take a screenshot, explaining that the probability of what just happened was several times less likely than you letting him fuck you while you’re livestreaming, but Wonwoo’s mind wanders a little right after that.

So…you would let him fuck you on stream, then?

Not that it’s something he’s thought about before. Wonwoo likes the privacy your set-up affords him with, and he’s not about to jeopardize that with by committing such an inexplicable act of exhibitionism. But the mere picture it paints in his head is enough to make him swallow thickly.

One of your stupidly short skirts bunched up to your waist. His hands kneading your breasts as he snaps his hips from behind you. All those pretty noises you make only for him now being heard by your incel-ridden fanbase. He bets they’d even like seeing their beloved Koyahngi get railed on-cam, but the thought of anyone else seeing you in ways only Wonwoo has had the privilege to makes his blood boil.

“Hm? You’ve gone quiet. What’s up?”

His eyes flicker over to your form—knees pressed against your chest underneath the oversized tee you’re wearing. You like to dress comfortably when you’re off-stream, which is understandable because even if you’re just sitting in front of a computer screen, doing so in full cosplay can be a huge hassle. He’s always wondered how you have it in you to put in all that effort for your viewers.

Curiosity lingers in your gaze when he prolongs the silence, but Wonwoo can’t bring himself to answer—mind too preoccupied with a whirlwind of thoughts to articulate any sort of reply.

He can excuse those horny assholes on Twitter—your main target audience for the filthier content you make on the side. They have no idea who it is they’re really jacking off to anyway. But if some lesser man deigns to even think he deserves to look at you—the real you—while you’re writhing in the throes of pleasure…

You let out an undignified yelp when Wonwoo abruptly pulls you onto his lap, awkwardly straddling him as he stares at you intensely through the lens of his glasses. He can vaguely hear you muttering something about impatient men under your breath, but Wonwoo knows your irritation with him holds little to no weight with how you fold your legs on either side of his hips so his large hands can have better access to your ass.

“This is what you invited me for, isn’t it?” he murmurs, giving your backside a squeeze that has you mewling in response.

Wonwoo smirks. What a needy little thing.

You gulp. “Y-Yeah, but—”

“Strip.”

“Wonwoo, I’ve gotta post about the wish results!”

He stares at you, unimpressed, and lets his hands fall onto the arm rests of your gaming chair, making you whimper at the loss of his touch. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

The effect of his authoritative tone manifests all too quickly. You bite your lower lip as you tug on the hem of your shirt, lifting it up just to tease a sliver of skin underneath. Wonwoo narrows his eyes, fully cognizant of what you’re trying to do, but it seems that you know better than to piss him off even further.

Your shirt falls to the floor and Wonwoo has to keep himself from groaning at the sight before him. It’s one thing for you to forego a bra, but panties, too?

“Do you like it, daddy?”

Knowing you, the question is meant to taunt than anything else, but Wonwoo lets it pass anyway.

It always drives him mad, how subtle you are whenever you want to get a rise out of him. The way you roll your hips into Wonwoo’s has a tantalizing feel to it and he has to grit his teeth to keep himself from snapping. He’ll play your games and drag this on for as long as he has to. Because he’s been with you long enough to know how much you love it when Wonwoo lets you have an illusion of authority for a sliver of a second, only to bully you into submission right after.

“Fuck,” you whisper the moment the outline of his erection grazes your bare pussy. “Missed your cock so much… It’s been a while since I’ve had you inside me.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “And whose fault is that?”

“How was I supposed to know these conventions were scheduled one after the other?” You pout before grinding deliciously against his cock once again. He can practically feel how wet you are through his sweats and it doesn’t help that each forward motion brings your perky breasts closer to his face.

Wonwoo lets out another sigh as he wraps an arm around your waist before leaning down to latch his lips onto one of your nipples. You quickly jolt in response—not expecting him to indulge you with pleasure so quickly—but his actions spur you on. As his tongue expertly flicks across your sensitive bud, you quickly haul his aching cock out of the confines of his sweats, grinding your slit across his thick girth.

You’re convinced that this is enough to get you off. Though you’ve memorized how the bulging veins on Wonwoo’s cock feels like inside you, having each ridge graze across your clit prickles the back of your head with newfound pleasure. A growl reverberates in his chest as you expertly slide your pussy along his dick, and you brace your hands on his broad shoulders to anchor yourself.

“Daddy,” you whine. “Can I? Please? Want it so bad.”

The words are punctuated with a pained moan when Wonwoo’s mouth trails higher before biting down on the junction between your neck and shoulders. He doesn’t miss the way your cunt momentarily pulses from his aggression, and he gladly guides your hips as you rub yourself all over his cock.

“My good little whore, always asking permission first,” he chuckles. “Go ahead. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

Wonwoo lifts you off his lap for a moment, earning himself a whine in protest, but when you realize he’s going to take off his sweats, you practically salivate once his strong thighs ease back onto your gaming chair. You don’t bother catching his gaze for an implicit confirmation. You simply sink down on his cock like you’ve been craving for days.

A choked out moan gets caught in the back of your throat when he fills you to the brim—making your brain go blank for a moment before you remember to start doing as he asked. Wonwoo watches you through an intense, hooded gaze. The only indication that he’s even feeling remotely good is the way his fingers grip the arm rests tighter whenever your walls clench around him every now and again.

Despite the pure, unadulterated bliss that surges through you every time you’re mounted on Wonwoo’s length, it pisses you off how put-together he typically looks like when you’re on top.

You want to see him just as depraved as you are—panting and thrusting into you like he’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you deep enough. But you can never get Wonwoo to handle you the way you want to be handled when you’re riding him like this. As much as you like seeing those sharp eyes watching your every move, the only way he’ll truly fuck you like you deserve is…

Wonwoo’s brows are quick to furrow once you promptly lift yourself off his lap—length slipping out of your pussy as you make your way towards the bed. However, when you spread yourself out on the mattress face down, ass up, it definitely sparks his interest.

And like a cherry on top, you place those heart-shaped handcuffs of yours on the swell of your ass, almost like you’re inviting him to play with you.

The next thing he knows, the worn out threads of his self-control have snapped. He’s behind you not a moment later—hissing through his teeth as he throws his shirt somewhere on the floor.

You moan when Wonwoo continues grinding his cock against your ass while he yanks both of your wrists behind you. The cold bite of the handcuffs alerts you to what you’ve allowed him to do, and when the lock clicks in place, you stifle a shuddering sigh into the sheets.

Suddenly, his breath is right next to your ear. “Where’s the key for this thing?”

You feel Wonwoo tug against the fake metal to test for sturdiness, and you feel your chest warm at his discretion. Though he’s, by no means, soft with you, he always takes the time to check if you’re comfortable with what you’re about to do together—no matter how subtle.

“On the nightstand,” you tell him all while pushing your ass back to meet his shallow thrusts. “You can go wild with the cuffs, daddy. They’re high quality for a reason.”

A low, devilish laugh escapes him.

“Be careful what you wish for, slut.”

He’s merciless with the way he slides his length back into your sopping hole, one hand pushing the back of your head further into the mattress as the other yanks at the chain link of the handcuffs. Each powerful stroke sends you forward on the bed, and his name tumbles in broken syllables from your mouth as he fucks the shape of his cock into you.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to call me,” he growls before snapping his hips with a particularly punishing thrust. “We’ve barely even started and I’ve already fucked you stupid? Are you so hungry for cock that you’ve already forgotten who I am?”

“I-I’m sorry, daddy!” you whimper as he pounds into you relentlessly. “Just feels s-so fucking good. Love your cock so much!”

“Yeah?” Wonwoo lets out a patronizing laugh before tugging on the handcuffs again—putting a delicious strain on your arms that amplifies your pleasure in some twisted way. “When you were out there dolling yourself up for conventions, did you think about my cock? Did you want me to fill you with my cum in the restroom again? You really fucking liked it when I did that to your Sage cosplay, didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble as tears start to cascade down your cheeks. “Want to get split open on your cock forever, daddy! Want your cum dripping down my thighs when there’s tons of people around—ah!”

The sharp sound of one of Wonwoo’s palms colliding with the meat of your ass rings in your ears, and it leaves a pleasurable sting sizzling across your flesh. You can’t help the surge of pride that fills you as Wonwoo moans out loud the moment your pussy clenched around him in surprise.

“Dirty fucking cockslut,” he rasps. “You just love it when you’re being filthy for everyone to see.”

For a moment, you’re liberated from the steady burn your arms have been sustaining in such a complex position. Wonwoo surrenders his grip on the handcuffs—letting your bound wrists fall uselessly atop the small of your back. His cock doesn’t quite slip out of you, but you feel him move around from behind. You crane your neck to see what he’s up to, but when you see him angling his phone in a shot that would definitely make for good content to post later, you feel your arousal spark tenfold.

“Now be a good fucking girl for daddy, and let him show everyone how filthy you are.”

The moment the telltale sound of the record button being pressed hits your ears, Wonwoo reclaims his grip on your dainty handcuffs before resuming his ministrations. You let out a long-winded moan as you meet his powerful thrusts, hands instinctively straining against your restraints out of the need to rub your throbbing clit for faster release, but you know it’s a futile effort.

Behind you, Wonwoo is practically losing his mind over the sight of your creamy essence coating his cock with each slide of his hips. You’re extra responsive with the handcuffs as expected. You’ve always had a thing for switching things up in the bedroom, but you’re clenching around him even tighter than usual.

He tells himself to just film a few seconds of you getting railed with your heart-shaped handcuffs adding more spice into the mix. Then he can truly have his way with you.

When he’s satisfied, Wonwoo quickly discards his phone on your bed—eyes darting towards your nightstand before he spots what he’s looking for. Another needy whine reverberates in the air when his cock slips out of you so he can walk over to retrieve it.

Like the good whore you are, you don’t even move an inch. You patiently wait for Wonwoo to return and fill you up again even if the fact that he’s making you wait in the first place makes you want to be a brat. But when you feel the handcuffs fall away from your wrists after he unlocks them, you whip your head around to flash him a startled look.

Wonwoo tosses your newest toy away with little concern for their well-being before grabbing your face—crushing your lips together in an open-mouthed kiss.

“Mine,” he growls before manhandling you so that you’re laying on your back. “This slutty fucking pussy belongs to me, got that?”

You nod, moaning as he presses his tongue deep into your mouth. You would say yours in return, but you’re blindsided by the way Wonwoo throws your legs over his shoulders—plunging his fat dick back into the velvet heat of your cunt.

As he whispers the filthiest things into your ear, you figure that Wonwoo must have been just as pent up as you are. The consistency of his thrusts is starting to falter—sharp, calculated thrusts turning erratic and sloppy as his orgasm starts to catch up to him.

With your hands free, you’re able to reach between your thighs in a feeble attempt at finding your clit. However, when Wonwoo catches wind of what you’re trying to do, he slaps your hand away—eyes boring into you with so much angry disappointment, you would’ve cried and begged for his forgiveness right then and there.

“Come on my cock or don’t come at all, whore,” he warns. “I’m already generous enough to have you writhing on my dick, and you can’t even be grateful about that?”

“I am, daddy!” You insist, tears threatening to spill again as you lace your arms around his neck. “You’re hitting me so deep. I’m g-gonna come soon, please—”

“Does my pretty cockslut want me to come inside her?” Wonwoo whispers before pressing your knees against your breasts. “Does she want me to fill her slutty pussy with my cum?”

“I want it, daddy. Want you to fill me up,” you beg as you desperately tug him down for a kiss.

Normally, Wonwoo would’ve denied you simply because he can, and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. But for some reason, he lets himself fall into you—lips latching onto yours like he’s done hundreds of times before.

It seems like the kiss is what catalyzes your release, and Wonwoo groans into your mouth when he feels your walls clamp down on his cock—desperately milking him for his cum. He isn’t too far behind. All it takes is a few more pistons of his hips before he stills inside you.

The sensation of being filled with his hot cum makes you pull away from his lips as another long-winded moan sings in his ears. Wonwoo’s shudders from the aftermath of his release, all while slowly fucking his emission deeper into your cunt. From the satisfied purr that escapes you, he thinks you like it just as much as he does.

Wonwoo really didn’t plan on staying over. Really, he didn’t. But the way you tug him back down on the mattress right after he’s finished cleaning you up makes him a bit too hyper-aware of his own aching muscles—both from this morning’s weight training and the several rounds he just shared with you. So he lets you snuggle closer to his clothed chest, the warmth from both of your bodies permeating into each other. He’s never felt more toasty beneath a comforter than he does now.

“This is nice,” you tell him quietly. “I wonder if people will like it if I posted videos of us just cuddling.”

Wonwoo laughs, thumbs absentmindedly caressing the red marks left by your handcuffs. “Doubt it.”

Your silly lo-fi music still plays from your computer's speakers , but neither of you could be assed to get up and turn it off. Wonwoo wouldn’t call himself a professional cuddler—you two have only cuddled a total of three times since you started fucking around, and you often complained about how stiff he always is—but from how comfortably your limbs slot into his, he supposes that he’s doing an okay job.

There’s a hint of intimacy charging the air, one that’s leagues different from the carnal lust that clouds his brain every time he fucks you. His chest twists with each passing moment, and Wonwoo makes the mistake of flickering his eyes on your half-asleep form pressed against him.

It’s been months since you and him started fooling around, but he knows perfectly well that he isn’t the first to have seen you so vulnerable . While he usually doesn’t give a shit about that, and Wonwoo knows the topic is quite sensitive from the little tells he could pick up on for the past few months…

“Can I ask about your old dom?”

Wonwoo can practically feel you stiffen against his touch, which is one of the main reasons why he hasn’t once tried to broach the topic in the past. Even if you could be a nuisance ninety percent of the time, he isn’t a fan of making people uncomfortable on purpose. He’s about to follow his inquiry up with the reassurance that it isn’t a big deal, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but—

You squirm away from his embrace, and Wonwoo lets you, albeit hesitantly. His shoulders relax when he realizes you’re just repositioning yourself so that you can face him directly, chewing the inside of your cheek like you don’t have the words just yet.

“He was…mean,” you whisper, forcing Wonwoo to wrap his arms around you once again. “Even meaner than you are. You’re at least a semi-decent person outside the domspace, but that guy? Piece of shit for real.”

Wonwoo nods. “But you don’t really care about that, do you?”

“Yeah. I can look past him being the meanest dom on the face of the earth. As long as he could satisfy me sexually, then we’re all good.”

“So…what made you part ways?”

Your gaze drifts to Wonwoo for a moment. He looks a lot different when his face isn’t bathed in the deep red of your mood lights. His hair is tousled, eyes squinting a little even if you aren’t that far away from him. And the earnest tone in his voice as he posits the question is something you could get used to hearing every now and again.

“Well, I don’t really do relationships, you know that right?” you say and Wonwoo nods. “My old dom didn’t get that though. He was really possessive of me even outside of our sessions together. It got to a point where he would get really…physical with me just to get the point across.”

Silence dips between the both of you—white noise ringing so loud in Wonwoo’s head, he can barely hear your shitty lo-fi playlist anymore. He’s always had a thing for making you cry during sex, but that’s all it is—some dacryphilia play to scratch both of your kinks. No matter how infuriating you are, he can’t imagine himself ever hurting you outside a pleasurable, sexual context.

Then he remembers the first time you invited him over to film some clips. How you stared at him as he cleaned you up like you aren’t used to the aftercare. Like you aren’t used to being treated delicately.

Is that because of your old shitty dom?

“He’s a fucking asshole,” Wonwoo grumbles before pressing your body closer to his.

You chuckle. “He is. I’m glad I got out of that before things got even uglier.”

“How’d you even get rid of him?”

“Eh, it’s nothing a little blackmail won’t fix.”

Wonwoo’s brow arches at your response. You’re such an evil little minx, it’s actually admirable.

A little later, the conversation about your previous sexual partners fades away, and you’re back to tracing weird shapes on Wonwoo’s chest for him to guess. He spends half the time convincing you to just shut up and go to sleep, but he finds himself indulging you in your silly whims regardless.

“Wonwoo, you’re a pretty great fuck buddy, you know that?”

He hums. “Why is that?”

“‘Cause you never go overboard with the stuff you do to me,” you say, eyes drifting away from his as you list off the reasons off your fingers. “You always let me annoy the shit out of you without getting pissed for real. You’re good at keeping secrets, too. Oh, and I never have to worry about you looking for anything more than this since you’re a pretty laid back guy. Def not the commitment type, which is exactly my type.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “If I become someone that isn’t your type, would that get you off my back?”

“I doubt that would ever happen,” you giggle.

For some reason, part of him wishes for the same thing.

But you don’t have to know about that.

On the morning of Soonyoung’s birthday, Wonwoo wakes up irritated.

He had a dream about you—one where you stopped being fuck buddies with him because you wanted to try things out again with your old dom. Someone that Wonwoo doesn’t even know, not even by name. Yet the rage that dream-Wonwoo felt upon seeing you hand-in-hand with some faceless punk as you both left him in the dust is almost too lifelike to ignore.

So, he does something stupid.

He pulls up his phone—ignoring every message asking if he’s going to show up for Soonyoung’s party later—and pulls up his Twitter app. He doesn’t spend much time there, even if he is co-managing your super secret porn account. In fact, he eventually muted the notifs for that too, when the appeal of having your illicit acts shared to the unknowing public finally fizzled out.

But he doesn’t log in to check the notifications you’ve amassed, as well as the pathetic DMs asking where your location was so they could fly in to fuck you themselves. No, Wonwoo scrolls past all the content you’ve made with him to unearth things best left in the past.

Like the videos he films with his own camera, the ones you made with your old dom are more than discreet—despite the hyper-possessive tendencies you’ve mentioned. There’s absolutely nothing to be gleaned about his identity, and Wonwoo is left wondering how stupid he’s being for wanting to know who it was that made you feel good before he came into the picture.

Why does it matter anyway, right?

Even if you did hypothetically leave him to fuck around with your old shitty dom—or anyone else for the matter—why would it matter to Wonwoo? The two of you aren’t even friends. And if you had some other person to bother, that would mean less shit for him to deal with.

But why does the thought of letting someone else have you fill him with so much vitriol that Wonwoo nearly melts his cereal bowl with his glare alone when he comes out for breakfast?

“Hyung,” Mingyu calls out from the seat adjacent to his, rightfully concerned. “You okay? I can always grab a new brand if you hate this one so much.”

The taut muscles on his face soften at the sulking tone to Mingyu’s voice. “Oh, uh. Sorry. It’s not that. I was just thinking.”

“Of your girlfriend?”

“...Of how I’m going to break your PS5 if you don’t cut it out with that girlfriend shit.”

Mingyu whines. “Wonwoo-hyung, I paid good money for that! But fine, I won’t pester you anymore if you’re so intent on keeping her a secret from the world.”

A secret… That’s right.

What you and Wonwoo have is something that not even his best friend is completely aware of. Sure, Mingyu’s roommate-senses have been tingling for weeks, but Wonwoo knows that he will never really know the full story unless either you or Wonwoo let him in on the secret.

Which will probably never happen if the two of you want to keep your careers, of course.

“Anyway, the rest of the guys are asking if you’re coming to Soonyoung’s party,” Mingyu says in an attempt to divert the conversation, thank god. “Everyone else has already replied except for you.”

“Who else is invited again?”

“Uh, our usual group, Koyahngi, and I dunno, a bunch of other streamers we know. I think some of Soonyoung’s high school friends are gonna show up as a surprise, though, but that’s just what Jihoon told me.”

Wonwoo considers the information at hand for a moment.

He doesn’t mind mingling with fellow streamers and probably some of Soonyoung’s other friends, but the last time he’s seen you specifically is the day he bit the bullet and asked about your old dom. A conversation which ended on a pretty agreeable note despite the obvious unease on your face when Wonwoo opened the topic.

The fact that you haven’t texted him since is a little worrisome, too. It’s been about two weeks since that happened, and Wonwoo is beginning to wonder if he unknowingly hit a nerve and this is your way of sending him a message.

He would’ve taken the initiative and checked up on you during your first week of radio silence, but when he catches you doing pretty fine on your latest streams and when he gets roped into some partnership talks with an entertainment agency that wants to recruit him, Wonwoo decides to put it off for later.

Besides, the two of you are grown adults—so are the rest of your thirsty audience on Twitter. They can survive two weeks without content.

“Yeah, I’ll come,” he tells Mingyu about five minutes later when he’s already putting away the dishes. “What time are we leaving?”

“Uh, the party starts at seven. Do we go early or fashionably late?”

“Early.”

“Of course. Gotta put the senior citizen to bed early.”

“Mingyu?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

🐈‍⬛: Are you coming to Soonyoung’s party tonight?

🐈‍: yea, i just need to sort some stuff out

🐈‍⬛: Wow

🐈‍: ?

🐈‍⬛: I just didn’t think you’d reply

🐈‍: is daddy gonna punish me for ignoring him for so long <3

🐈‍⬛: I’m being serious

🐈‍: well, so am i

🐈‍: anyway, tell soonie i’ll be there soon

🐈‍: i’m just talking to someone

🐈‍⬛: Okay

Wonwoo has been hanging out with his friends long enough to know that only a select few can really handle their liquor. It doesn’t help that today’s celebrant is the worst lightweight of them all. It’s barely thirty minutes past eight, and Soonyoung is already screaming profanities on one of the tables—using an unopened bottle of absinthe that Seungcheol gifted him with as a makeshift microphone as he belts out trashy lyrics from songs Wonwoo vaguely recognizes.

Mingyu films the entire thing on his phone, stifling his laughter while sipping on his own drink. Wonwoo can only roll his eyes at his best friend’s tolerant behavior.

At around nine, Jeonghan and Joshua arrive at the scene with a tiger-themed cake in tow, and half the friend group has to physically restrain Soonyoung just so the birthday boy could blow out his fucking candles properly. After criticizing the baker’s work (“The eyes are uneven! Tiger eyes are perfectly symmetrical!), Jeonghan rounds up the other guests to sing a loud Happy Birthday just to get Soonyoung to finally shut up. When the song comes to a close, though, Seokmin giggles a little too conspiratorially before dunking Soonyoung’s face into the cake.

It’s gatherings like this—no matter how rowdy and unacceptably loud—that make Wonwoo stick around. He might not look the part, but he loves it when he sees his friends be themselves outside of their streamer personas. It’s like high school and college all over again.

But when the clock on his phone reads ten-thirty, and he realizes you’re still not at the venue, Wonwoo considers shooting you another text asking where you were. It’s an idea he quickly shoots down the next second because first of all, you’re not even friends. It’d be weird if he just asked out of nowhere.

He supposes he could use wanting a quick fuck as an excuse to get some intel on your whereabouts. But the thought of lying to you doesn’t sit right with Wonwoo for some goddamn reason.

When Mingyu offers him a drink, he half-considers taking it just to get his mind off you. He’s pretty sure his roommate has picked up on his distracted behavior, and is only attempting to soothe him somewhat with some beer. But Wonwoo reminds him that he’s one of tonight’s designated drivers and decides to pass.

Everyone in attendance is in the middle of a game of truth or dare when Wonwoo’s phone buzzes in his jacket pocket. He’s quick to excuse himself when he sees who it’s from and what message was left for him to read.

🐈‍: help me. please.

Thankfully, you had the foresight to send him your location after shooting him that cryptic text, and Wonwoo is glad to find that you’re just a few blocks away. Still, he decides to take his car since the weather decided to be a bitch, sending in an unexpected downpour in the middle of summer.

He pulls over in front of a closed bookshop once he’s sure you’re in the area—looking around for any signs of you. The streets are deserted, and Wonwoo is trying to figure out what could have possibly brought you to this place at this hour. Why didn’t you just head straight to Soonyoung’s party?

And why did you call him for help?

Through the rain and the poor lighting, he finally spots you—standing underneath the canopy of a waiting shed next to a man whose back is turned to Wonwoo.

He doesn’t think twice. He just gets out of his car and runs in the rain—chest warming at the sight of your downcast face perking up at the sight of him. Wonwoo would’ve let himself be glad that you're safe and sound, if only your current company didn’t turn around and reveal his identity.

From the looks of it, you seemed to be having a pretty heated conversation before his arrival. Johnny was obviously annoyed when he turned to look at him, but the expression fell away when he realized the newcomer was Wonwoo.

However, a sinister smile takes its place not a few seconds later.

“Huh, no wonder you were so quick to replace me, doll,” Johnny laughs insincerely, sharp eyes trained on Wonwoo as he stares the younger streamer up and down. “It’s him, huh?”

“This has nothing to fucking do with you, Johnny,” you grit out, but Wonwoo doesn’t miss the way your voice nearly cracks. “Can you just leave me alone? You don’t need me when you’ve got a bunch of other girls who want to suck your dick, right?”

Wonwoo observes the exchange with a stoic face that doesn’t betray his surprise. It doesn’t take a lot to realize at that moment that Johnny is most definitely the asshole dom whose face he wanted to pummel into the ground when he found out what he did to you. But the things he does know about Johnny and the things he’s just now finding out makes a storm brew inside of his head—unable to separate what’s fact from fiction.

Johnny’s a nice guy. Wonwoo knows this very well. But then again, he’s also the same person who blatantly likes Twitter porn on his official account, so where does that leave him?

“I guess you’re right, but your pussy’s a perfect fit,” Johnny chuckles. “Can’t help but want to hit that again and again, right Wonwoo?”

He stares down at him hard. “Don’t talk about her like she’s just some thing you can play with.”

“Oh? No wonder those new vids of yours have been extra livelier. Your new boytoy is a big old softie, huh?” Another mirthless laugh echoes in the empty streets, and Wonwoo feels his own body heat up with rage amidst the cold rain. “I never would’ve imagined it was Wonwoo, of all people, though. That really is a magic pussy you’ve got there, doll. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found out you’re fucking his twelve other friends, too. Fucking whore—”

Before Johnny could get another word out, Wonwoo’s fist had already collided with the side of his face—knocking the older man to the ground with a disgruntled sound. He can vaguely hear you calling his name in shock, pulling him back with your little hands as Wonwoo stares down at a person he used to look up to.

“Call her that one more fucking time,” he rasps—eyes alight with anger, “and I’ll make sure it’s not just a busted eye you’re leaving with tonight.”

“Wonwoo,” you plead, tugging on his arm. “Please. He’s not worth it. Let’s just go.”

Johnny still has it in him to bark out another laugh, spitting out some blood from his mouth and onto the pavement. “Running away again, princess? That’s what you’ve always been good at anyway.”

When Wonwoo moves to lunge at him again, you lace your fingers with his. For some reason, it makes him falter. Wonwoo stares at where your hands are adjoined, then looks into your eyes—glistening with tears as you beg him to stop.

Sending Johnny one last threatening glare, Wonwoo tightens his grip on your delicate fingers before leading you back to his car.

Wonwoo doesn’t return to the party.

Instead, he shoots Mingyu a quick ‘something came up’ text, and that he won’t be able to play designated driver for the night. His best friend responds in kind, saying he should have fun with his girlfriend and just take a cab home. On normal days, he would’ve given Mingyu another unsolicited threat, but tonight, he’s focused on something else.

You’ve been quiet the entire time Wonwoo has been driving, hands placed on top of your lap as you gazed at the lights flashing by in a blur of colors and raindrops pouring down the window. He doesn’t have a particular destination in mind, but he figures that it’ll do you some good to have some time to mull over everything that happened.

But when the silence gets too overbearing even for him, Wonwoo asks:

“What do you usually do when you’re upset?”

You turn your head slowly, red eyes shining even in the dark. Wiping the tears away, you say, “Buy a tub of ice cream and stargaze at the rooftop of my apartment building. That’s kinda impossible right now, though, since…”

Yeah. It was still raining. Fuck.

“Well,” Wonwoo starts, “we can still get some ice cream if you’re up for it. I know a supermarket that’s open twenty four-seven.”

You don’t reply, simply letting your gaze drift back to the window, and Wonwoo takes that as an affirmative.

The two of you sit in the silence so deafening, it unsettles even Wonwoo the silence connoisseur himself. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do in this kind of situation. Should he offer you some verbal comfort? Should he promise to deal with Johnny if he comes after you again?

In the end, Wonwoo chooses to preserve the quiet—thinking it’s what you need most right now.

He pulls into the supermarket’s parking lot in ten minutes. He’s about to tell you that he won’t take long—glancing around at the backseat to check if Mingyu left his umbrella there. But before he can even get a word out, you’ve already leaned across the center console, grabbing Wonwoo’s face with both hands before smashing your lips together.

Wonwoo grunts, grabbing your shoulders as he gently pries you off him. “Hey—”

You don’t listen. Instead, you climb on top of his lap despite the limited space. He knows that the steering wheel digging into your back can’t be comfortable at all, so despite himself, Wonwoo pushes the driver’s seat all the way back. But then you choose to do something he doesn’t expect at all.

With the newfound legroom, you sink to the floor—puffy eyes looking up at him as you work on the buckle of his belt. Wonwoo gives you a stare that’s two parts disapproving and one part curious. In the end, he does nothing about it when you undo his jeans and take his cock in the warmth of your hand.

When it comes to you, it doesn’t take a lot to get him hard. The need to please shines in your eyes as you give him possibly one of the best handjobs in his life. You’re not even uttering a single sound, but your titillating gaze sends all the blood in his system straight to his dick.

Your mouth is on him the next thing he knows—giving his fat head some experimental kitten licks that make him want to shove your head down to the base of his cock. But he won’t. Wonwoo isn’t Johnny. He wouldn’t dare to be rough with you after what just happened, despite your apparent eagerness to give him head right here, of all places.

The mere reminder of that asshole has him buzzing with rage again, but whatever frustration is left over gets quickly replaced with toe-curling pleasure when you take his heavy length in the heat of your mouth. Your tongue lathers the underside of his shaft as every inch bypasses your plump lips. What your mouth can’t reach, you compensate with your fingers—fondling both his balls and the base of his cock with tender yet salacious touches.

He has to tell you to knock it off. This probably isn’t how you’re supposed to deal with…whatever shit you have going on with Johnny. But your mouth feels like fucking heaven, and Wonwoo isn’t a good enough person to deny himself the pleasure.

The rain continues to pour outside, but the sound of it is eclipsed by the wet noise of you bobbing up and down his engorged cock. As Wonwoo’s orgasm slowly builds itself from the ground up, his large hand gathers your hair in a single clump—tugging hard enough to have you moaning around his length.

“Good, good girl,” he rasps before thrusting his hips into your mouth.

When he finally comes, you swallow every drop he pours down your throat. Even when your eyes start to sting with tears, you take it all while Wonwoo holds your head in place.

As his high starts to ebb away, Wonwoo realizes this is probably the most breathless he’s been rendered since he started fucking around with you. He could probably blame that on the shitty car ventilation, but there’s just something so fucking enticing about seeing you wedged beneath him on the floor—face streaked with tears with remnants of his release still sticking on your lips.

Wordlessly, you peel yourself away as you scramble back to the passenger seat, making a nonchalant comment about how much you’ve imagined sucking him off in his car, but Wonwoo doesn’t quite process it all.

When he notices that the glass of his car windows have all but fogged up, he leans forward—one hand raised as he starts drawing shapes into the moisture. You stare at him with a bewildered look, wondering what on earth he was up to. But the moment you realize what he’s drawing, your expression twists from confusion to disbelief.

Stars. Wonwoo was drawing stars on his fucking windshield with his entire dick still out and everything. He doesn’t even look fazed while he’s doing it.

“You can’t be serious,” you say.

He shrugs and grabs some tissues from the glove compartment to clean up before putting himself away—handing it to you right after.

He’s so fucking thoughtful; it still gives you whiplash.

“You said you wanted to see the stars, right?” Wonwoo shrugs. “This is the best I can give you right now, so.”

You stare at him for a couple of seconds longer—like you can’t believe a man like Jeon Wonwoo really exists on this earth. Then, you laugh. It’s one of those obnoxious ones that typically have Wonwoo rolling his eyes at you, but it sounds like music to his ears after seeing you cry your eyes out .

Wonwoo does manage to get enough ice cream for the two of you to feast on back in your apartment as you both watch this food show that Mingyu keeps recommending to him. The tricky part is trying to get your hands off him the entire time.

For someone who went through something pretty traumatic earlier in the evening, you’re fucking insatiable. But Wonwoo’s resolve can no longer be shaken, and the dirtiest thing that you end up doing in your bedroom is giving him a kiss on the cheek before bidding him good night.

It’s only when you’re dozing softly against his chest—having trusted him enough to fall asleep in his company—that Wonwoo realizes something that might change the trajectory of your set-up for good.

He’s in love.

The next morning, Mingyu greets Wonwoo at the apartment like a mother would her troublemaking son who got caught sneaking home in the middle of the night.

“It’s Koyahngi, isn’t it?” he says point-blank.

Wonwoo doesn’t exactly have the energy to play some mental gymnastics with Mingyu right now. The moment it dawned on him how he actually felt about you, he couldn’t get a wink of sleep. Thoughts about what he should do have kept him up all night. Should he come clean about it? Should he just leave it be?

But when he remembers what you said about him during that one visit of his…

I never have to worry about you looking for anything more than this since you’re a pretty laid back guy. Def not the commitment type.

That pretty much leaves him with one option, which is the one he’s been meaning to take all along. The idea of having to confess his love for you like some sort of prepubescent high schooler honestly makes him want to vomit. But at the same time, resorting to…concealing his feelings from plain sight doesn’t sit well with him either.

But no matter what he feels about either option, Wonwoo knows that keeping his mouth shut about it is the best option. Especially when you’re still emotionally high-strung from that encounter with Johnny.

“So what if it is?” Wonwoo grumbles, plopping himself onto the couch right next to Mingyu.

“For what it’s worth, I’ve always thought the two of you were a good match,” his roommate offers, and Wonwoo appreciates his pep-talk. Really, he does. But he’s pep-talking him for the wrong fucking outcome. “You should totally go for it if you haven’t already.”

You don’t do relationships, and neither does Wonwoo. He knows if he uses this line of reasoning as a rebuttal to Mingyu’s words, his best friend will stubbornly insist that he get the girl anyways. He’s always been the one-track-mind type that gives it his all once he’s finally set on something.

But Wonwoo is nothing like his enthusiastic roommate. He’s cold, and sharp-tongued, and everything you probably wouldn’t want in a boyfriend. All he’s good for is a quick fuck every now and again, and he’s not about to start deluding himself that he can be anything more to you.

(Yet part of him still hopes anyway.)

🐈‍: are u free today

🐈‍⬛: Be there in thirty

🐈‍: whoa i haven’t even told you what i had planned

🐈‍: what if i actually wanted to take you on a date to the park huh

🐈‍⬛: Did you?

🐈‍: no, my new raiden shogun cosplay set just arrived

🐈‍: and we kinda have this unspoken tradition

🐈‍: if you know what i mean

🐈‍⬛: You want me to fuck you in it?

🐈‍: always <3

There’s something off when Wonwoo shows up at your doorstep.

He knows you easily pick up on it from the way your eyes narrow slightly when you scrutinize him. From what he can tell, he’s acting as aloof as he always does, yet you still ask him, “You okay?” as if he’s doing something different.

“Yeah,” he mumbles before quietly closing the door behind him.

As you lead him to your room, you tell him that you haven’t put on your cosplay yet because the stockings that came with your order were itchy as fuck, and how you’re thinking of having them replaced one of these days. Wonwoo hums in reply, eyes trained on the takeout packaging that litters your kitchen counter. He has half the mind to tell you to start eating healthily, but reminds himself that’s the sort of thing boyfriends do—not fuck buddies.

Your dainty lo-fi playlist is streaming in your room like always, and when you see the assorted fabrics of your cosplay crumpled on your desk, you heave a tired sigh.

“I’m too lazy to put it on now,” you whine. “Can you just fuck me normally?”

He doesn’t give you a verbal response. Instead, Wonwoo pulls you by the hip, pressing you impossibly close to him as he rests his forehead on top of yours. You startle a little at his abruptness, but your body language betrays no sign of resistance. If anything, you lean more into his touch as the seconds tick past.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you whisper like you’re afraid of shattering something delicate. “You seem out of it.”

“I’m fine,” he insists, and before you can say anything else in response, he slots your mouths together in a slow, sensual kiss.

Wonwoo likes to get things done hard and fast. He’s a man who sticks to his schedules for the day if he can help it, so he typically treats these sessions with you as timed encounters. More often than not, he’ll be out of your door in two hours or less so he can dedicate his time to working out or planning for new content.

Now, it’s a little different. He takes his sweet time with you—mouths moving in voluptuous unison as if he’s finally dedicating each second to truly memorize the curve of your lips against his. You moan into the kiss, fingers threading through his dark hair before he pulls away from you with a breathless sigh.

Wonwoo stares at you like you’re the center of the universe. He can only hope you see the same thing when you stare back.

You know when Wonwoo takes his glasses off, he means business. One moment he’s placing them on top of your nightstand, and the next, you’re suddenly pinned beneath him on your bed—getting your lips devoured by the insatiable man on top of you.

There’s something so innately alluring to his kisses that you haven’t felt during the last time you fucked Wonwoo in this same room. Those were less kisses and more of a clash of teeth and tongue. Now, he stokes a kind of desire that almost scares you to have. You’re afraid if you indulge yourself too much in this version of him, you’ll get addicted.

The two of you are supposed to be filming today. Yet you seem to have forgotten all about your plans as you lose yourselves in the heat of each other’s bodies. But despite the mellow pace that Wonwoo has established, the desperation still lingers in his touch.

He flips the both of you over so that you’re sitting right on top of him, gasping out loud as you steady yourself across his hips. Wonwoo smiles lazily, drawing circles along the curve of your thigh before teasing the waistband of your shorts with a single finger. You whimper as you grind down against his hardening length, still confused about how soft he’s being with you today, but no complaints are going to be filed.

“You want my cock that badly?” he asks, and you nod a bit too enthusiastically. “Then work for it.”

You bite your lip, not bothering to remove either of your clothes when you haul out Wonwoo’s length from the fabric of his sweats. Just a few pumps from your small fingers has him hot and heavy in your hand—making your mouth water with anticipation. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of taking him inside your tight little pussy.

Nudging the hem of both your shorts and panties to the side, you quietly sink down on his engorged cock with a strained whimper. The lack of prep definitely isn’t doing you any favors, but the raw stretch of him so deep inside your walls sends a rush of pleasure straight to your skull. In no time, you’re bouncing on top of his lap like a bitch in heat—mind hazy with the feeling of Wonwoo hitting you even deeper than usual.

You sort of expected him to amp up the dirty talk. You don’t always get to ride him like this, yet Wonwoo stays perfectly quiet as he watches you thrash and moan above him. His hands rest comfortably at the curve of your waist, guiding your movements, all while offering up a few thrusts of his own.

It feels so fucking good whenever he hits that perfect spot inside you, but the pleasure pulls the wool over your eyes because you’re completely oblivious to the way Wonwoo is looking at you right now.

He was a fool to think that if he just had his way with you like he usually does, those delusions of his would go away naturally. That it would serve as an anchor to the reality of your relationship with him. But when Wonwoo has you chasing your high right before him—so devastatingly beautiful in the lowlights of your bedroom—he realizes he’s fucked.

All this does is make him fall even deeper in love with you.

“S-So close,” you whimper, grinding down on his cock with each downward thrust. “Wonwoo, please, please. Fuck—!”

He quickly shoots up from his initial position, lying down, fingers tangled in your hair as he forces your head close to meld your lips together once again. Wonwoo fucks up into you relentlessly, his breathing erratic against your mouth, all while he tries his best to keep all of his secrets from coming out of his own lips.

You’re the most infuriating person he knows, but he can’t help but look after you anyways. He claims to hate you, but the way he’s rolling his hips into yours would tell a different story. You drive him insane each waking day, yet you have no clue of the extent of it.

He would never admit it—not in a million, billion years—but you’re Wonwoo’s favorite poison, and he’d rather watch himself burn from the inside out than find an antidote.

He hates having to hide you away from the world like this. Hates treating you like some sort of dirty little secret. He’s allowed to share you with the world through anonymous pornography, but not as a bonafide lover, and it drives him up a fucking wall every time he thinks about it.

But the thing about Wonwoo and sex is that once he finally gets to fuck the frustration out of his system, his clarity of mind is a bit too quick to settle. As he helps clean you up in the bathroom, he tells himself that it’s simply impossible for someone like you to want anything more with someone like him. After all, you said it yourself.

You don’t do relationships.

Who the hell is Wonwoo to change your mind about that anyway?

“Wonwoo?”

He looks up at you just when he just finished wiping a cool, wet towel across your leg. “What?”

Your eyes shy away from his. “Um, you might call me a sap or something, but I…kinda liked it.”

“Liked what?”

“That,” you say while making some vague hand gestures at him. “When you were all gentle with me and stuff. I wouldn’t mind having soft Wonwoo again next time.”

Next time.

The words echo in Wonwoo’s mind far more than what he expected, and he finds himself frowning at the notion. Can he still keep up this charade, now that he’s aware of his feelings for you? How long can he continue the act until he inevitably slips up, and you find out?

How long does he have left before you drop him because he’s starting to want more from you?

“Wonwoo, where are you…?”

He doesn’t hear the rest of what you have to say because he’s already padding out of the bathroom—heart beating a little too loudly in his chest. Wonwoo fishes his glasses from the nightstand and the keys to his car. He’s more than intent on getting out of here as soon as possible, but it seems you have other plans.

“Hey,” you call out before tugging at his arm. Wonwoo forces himself not to meet your eyes, but he feels the intensity of your stare regardless. “You’re acting really fucking weird today. Is there something wrong? Did I do something you didn’t like?”

“No,” he mumbles, wanting to add, I’m the one who’s done something you won’t like, but opting to keep his silence instead.

“Then…why are you acting like this?”

The pleading look in your eyes almost makes him cave in and pour out everything that’s been flooding his heart for the past few days. It’s so easy to just rip the band-aid off and be honest. To risk everything for the abysmal chance of you reciprocating his feelings.

But Wonwoo knows that life isn’t a fucking gacha game, and he’s not about to throw away what he has with you now, especially when he knows what he wants doesn’t coincide with what you want.

“Just having a shitty day,” he reasons, and the lie tastes like acid on his tongue. “I’ll text you later. Bye.”

Before Wonwoo steps out of your door, he makes another mistake of looking back. Now, he isn’t sure if he’ll ever get the image of you on the verge of tears as you stood all alone in your bedroom for reasons he’ll never know

Wonwoo runs into Saerom in the supermarket one fateful afternoon.

Mingyu is usually the one who does the grocery runs for both of them—being the person who knows which brands are best for both food and apartment maintenance and all. But his best friend happened to land himself a modeling gig recently, and they rescheduled the shoot today on short notice. Wonwoo insisted that they could live another day without eating rice, but Mingyu was having none of it, and gave his roommate a full list of groceries he expects him to buy no later than today.

So here he is in the canned goods aisle, expression mirroring Saerom’s when she recognizes him as well. It’s not often that Wonwoo bumps into a familiar face in this part of town, so he’s rightfully surprised.

When she asks him if he’s free to have lunch with her at a nearby bistro, he sees no reason to decline. Saerom has always been his good friend, and it’s only natural for him to want to catch up. That, and he’s curious about what she’s doing here in the first place.

“I just moved into the neighborhood actually,” she explains once the waiter is done taking their orders. “Anyway, how are you? I haven’t spoken to you since that time I hijacked your stream.”

Wonwoo clearly remembers the day she asked him to look out for you all those months ago. Saerom is quite literally an angel, extending her concern even to the people who probably don’t need nor deserve it. He gulps down his water thickly, wondering if he should tell her the truth.

But with how his brain seems to be all over the place these days, he ends up coming clean about it anyway.

When the food arrives, Wonwoo tells Saerom about the truth behind the porn videos implicating you in the past—how you’re actually the one being filmed in all of them. He also tells her about how Wonwoo takes part in the creation process of said videos (deciding to leave Johnny out of the story because that’s going to be another can of worms to deal with). Then, he ends the tall tale with the begrudging fact that he may or may not have caught feelings for someone he isn’t supposed to.

Saerom listens intently to each word—chewing on her salad with a contemplative look. She never betrays any sort of expression that would suggest her true opinions on the matter, which makes Wonwoo all too thankful that she’s the one he entrusted this with.

“I see,” she sighs once she’s finished the rest of her food. “I knew something was a bit off about her situation, but I’m glad that she’s safe, at least. Although about that budding romance of yours… Don’t you think it’ll be easier if you just discussed it with her directly? An outsider like me can only offer you so much advice, Wonwoo.”

He sighs, stabbing his food with his fork. “I know, but…what if she doesn’t want anything to do with me when she finds out how I really feel?”

Saerom lets out a wistful sigh—staring directly at Wonwoo like she intends for him to remember her next words for a long time.

“Then that’s your sign to find someone else who can accept the love you’re more than willing to give. If she turns you down, that’s more of her loss than yours, you know.”

Wonwoo wants to tell her she’s giving him too much credit. It almost sounds like Saerom is insisting that he’d actually make a good boyfriend. He half-wonders if he should ask her if she accidentally mistook him for Mingyu, but then Saerom’s phone rings in the middle of their conversation.

It’s a short call, and Wonwoo doesn’t bother listening in to give her some privacy. When it ends, though, she bows her head in apology, letting him know that her boyfriend’s waiting for her at the parking lot.

“It’s nice meeting you again, Wonwoo.” She smiles before pulling him into a hug. “I hope your girl problems are already sorted out the next time I see you.”

Wonwoo lets out an uneasy laugh as he returns her embrace.

He really hopes so, too.

One month.

It takes Wonwoo one entire month to reach out again, right after he left you without a word in your apartment last time. Part of him feels like he should be guilty for ghosting you so suddenly like that, but he swears he didn’t ghost you.

He’s just…giving both of you some time and space away from each other. God knows his judgment gets clouded whenever he’s near you.

Still, he doesn’t really expect you to forgive him for it right away. Much like Mingyu, you’re the sulky type. But while he usually deals with Mingyu’s sulking by leaving him alone for a few hours, that solution is counterproductive when it comes to you because…he’s already left you alone for a month. Wonwoo has a feeling that if he prolongs it any further, you might not talk to him ever again.

You were already wrapping up this evening’s stream when he left his own apartment, and he figures you’re getting ready for bed when he gets to yours.

His knuckles rap against the door once, twice, and he waits.

Not that Wonwoo is counting, but it takes you five minutes to answer the door—already in your comfortable pajamas and your kitten skincare headband resting on top of your head. It seems that you weren’t expecting any late-night visitors when your eyes nearly bug out at the sight of him.

“Won—” You shake your head as if you can’t even bear to say his name. “What are you doing here?”

He hesitates.

Wonwoo doesn’t have an answer for you. He gave you space for one month, and he still doesn’t know what to say when he finally deigned to show you his face.

Your posture is rightfully apprehensive. Wonwoo can almost imagine how you’ve branded him as a raging ghoster in your head for the past few weeks. For a moment, he fears that you’ll throw him out of your apartment before he can even set foot in it, but you simply wait for him to respond—affording him some patience he definitely doesn’t deserve.

“I…” Wonwoo starts but his voice falters, forcing him to clear his throat awkwardly. “You’re getting better at using Chamber.”

You scowl at him, and if Mingyu was here, Wonwoo thinks he would’ve face-palmed because of how pathetic he’s being right now.

Seriously? Bringing up the latest Valorant agent she’s playing when you’re supposed to say you’re in love with her? Wonwoo can practically hear his roommate in his head, along with an added, You’re so fucking mid, hyung.

“Okay,” you say, still visibly wary of his presence. “Anything else? I’d rather get everything out of the way so you can continue ghosting me in peace.”

Fuck. He knew it.

“I’m—”

Sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was too scared of how I felt about you to deal with it like a normal person.

“—starting to think that you’re fine without me after all.”

At this point, Mingyu would’ve pummeled him to the ground.

Jeon Wonwoo, you have the emotional intelligence of a rock, imagination-Mingyu points out, and he couldn’t agree more.

“Well, thanks for pointing out the obvious. I am fine without you, asshole,” you bite back snarkily, making the motions to shut the door in his face, but Wonwoo wedges his foot in between.

“Wait—fuck. I’m sorry,” he insists, swallowing thickly. “Can I come in? Please?”

The desperation in his tone makes you arch an eyebrow. Wonwoo never says please. It’s almost always the other way around, whether in a sexual context or not. So even if you know you should just leave him there like how he left you a month ago, you breathe out a sigh in defeat before opening the door wider for him.

“Fine.”

You’ve never sat at your dining table with Wonwoo. You never had to. Whenever he comes over, it’s either to have sex or let you teach him about a game he can’t be assed to play on his own. He doesn’t stay long enough to warrant asking him if he wants some takeout or leftovers from the fridge, so seeing him nursing a glass of water across from you still feels surreal.

“So are you going to explain why you suddenly just ditched me, or are we going to stew in the silence all night?” you ask.

Wonwoo’s gaze flickers over to you irritably, and you hate to admit that the sight of that expression makes a pang of…something ripple in your chest. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, much less spoken to him, so even if you should be fucking mad, you can’t help but miss him.

God fucking damn it.

He doesn’t answer right away. Like he’s carefully choosing which words he’ll allow you to hear and which would be better off unsaid. But if there’s something you’ve come to know about Wonwoo after all these months, it’s that he doesn’t have good intuition when it comes to other people’s emotions.

Even if it seems like he’s being particularly careful about his words, that doesn’t guarantee that what’s going to come out of his mouth won’t be stupid.

“I just had to clear my head for a while,” he says, providing no context whatsoever, and that makes you frown even more.

“Clear your head?” you echo as you cross your legs. “From what?”

Wonwoo’s usually aloof look shifts for a moment. An unreadable expression flits across his face, but it’s gone before you can even make sense of it.

“It’s nothing you should worry about.”

“Nothing I should… Wonwoo, you were already acting strange the last time you were here. Then you went ahead and ignored me for an entire month!” You slam your hands on the table, the Wonwoo’s glass rattling in the process.

“How am I not supposed to worry when all this time, you made me think I was the reason you suddenly just flaked on me like that?”

He narrows his eyes at you, as if he doesn’t quite get why you’re pissed. “Why does it even matter? I’m just your fuck buddy, right? Why should you care if I just come and go whenever I feel like it?”

The apathetic tone that accompanies his words lances straight through your chest. Were you an idiot for believing that the look he wore earlier in front of your apartment was genuine? That he was actually apologetic for leaving you alone with your thoughts as you wondered what you could’ve possibly done to drive him away without a word?

Your fists shake from where you’re pressing them into the polished wood of your dining table. Wonwoo’s indifferent stare doesn’t let up, and as the white noise rings in your ears, it makes you wonder…

“Why’d I have to fall in love with someone like you?”

The words come out so softly, so quietly that you doubt Wonwoo would’ve heard you. But as your vision gets blurry with tears, you don’t see how surprise begins to eclipse his aloofness.

Wonwoo felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach when his ears caught what you just said. He couldn’t have heard wrong. It was too quiet in your apartment to mistake what you said for anything else.

You’re…in love with him?

“You know what?” You breathe in deeply, eyes darting up to the ceiling as you wipe off the evidence of your vulnerability. “Just…leave, Wonwoo. I can’t talk to you right now. Please.”

“Say it again.”

When your gaze drifts back to him, it’s accompanied with an expression twisted into disbelief.

“What?”

Before you can even think about what he could even mean by that, Wonwoo gets up from his seat, striding over to your side of the table. You flash him another apprehensive stare, but all of a sudden, he cups your face in both of his hands—delicately, like he’s afraid of breaking something precious.

“Tell me you’re in love with me.”

You immediately bristle at his request. “Are you fucking insane? I know you’re a sadist but—”

Wonwoo presses forward without warning—capturing your lips in an unsolicited kiss that catches you off guard but angers you at the same time. No matter how badly you missed having him pressed up against you in more ways than one, you’re not going to let him trample on your feelings again.

“I hate you,” you rasp, salty tears breaking their tension across your lashes as they slide down your cheeks in glistening streaks. “I fucking hate you, Jeon Wonwoo.”

Your words carry little weight to them, and Wonwoo is completely aware of this. Almost like he’s trying to placate you, he wipes your tears away with the pads of his thumbs—that hard-eyed gaze weathering into something softer, more sincere with each passing second.

You abhor how handsome he looks like this.

“Is that your way of telling someone you love them?” he chuckles breathlessly, lips rising to the crown of your head as he presses a soft kiss on top. “If that’s the case, then…”

“I fucking hate you, too.”

Wonwoo isn’t sure how long the two of you have been going at it, but by your fourth orgasm, your newfound lover is yet to be sated.

“Again,” he growls, tugging your limp body closer to his. “Say it again.”

One of the things Wonwoo particularly likes about exploring all sorts of sexual escapades with you is that you teach him things about himself that he never even knew about.

First was that stupid daddy kink, and now…

“I love you,” you whimper, mindlessly grinding against his still hard cock despite being worn and spent. “I love you, Wonwoo.”

Despite the fact that your honesty drives him to near-insanity, Wonwoo can’t help the relieved sigh that fills his veins every time you utter the words. At first, you stubbornly kept up the act of hating him as he railed you into the mattress, but with every mind-numbing orgasm, your hate slowly bled into love, and Wonwoo finds it fucking cathartic.

You beat him to what he came over to tell you himself. It was a little embarrassing on his part, he has to admit, but there’s some sort of relief that comes with knowing the same person he’s been vying for also feels the same way.

He’ll tell you the words properly someday.

Maybe not today or tomorrow, but Wonwoo promises that he’ll let you hear how much he adores you soon enough.

For now, he’ll give you one last release.

He’s certain that he can still go one more round, but he can’t really say the same for you. If Wonwoo makes you cream on his cock one more time, he’s afraid you’ll actually pass out from exhaustion.

So instead, he lays you down on your plush pillows—crawling lower down your body until he finds himself between your legs. He chuckles when you crane your neck weakly to see what he’s trying to do, but Wonwoo is already hooking your thighs over his shoulders before you can say a word.

Your body twitches from oversensitivity as his tongue laves at your ruined cunt—not caring that his own spend has mixed with yours from where the creamy liquid seeps from your hole. Wonwoo groans into your cunt when your thighs squeeze around his head as if meaning to suffocate him with your pussy.

Honestly? If that’s the way he’s gonna go, he’ll accept it with open arms.

“Daddy,” you mewl, fingers tangling in his tousled hair. “I c-can’t anymore…”

Wonwoo suckles at your clit in response, earning himself a high-pitched whine as you roll your hips into his face. For someone who claims she can’t come anymore, you’re awfully eager for him to pinpoint your orgasm again.

“You can, baby,” he insists, peppering your inner thighs with kisses. “You can ‘cause you’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

He feels your inner muscles clenching at his words, and Wonwoo makes a mental note to praise you more often. You might just like that more than his run-of-the-mill dirty talk after all.

“‘m your good girl,” you babble. “Always daddy’s good girl.”

Fuck. You’re going to be the death of him.

When you’ve recovered from the crest of your final orgasm, Wonwoo carries you to the bathroom and carries you into a bath he’d drawn himself. You complain about how he didn’t set the temperature in the tub right, and Wonwoo promises to do better next time.

As the two of you soak in the semi-warm water, Wonwoo rests his head against the tiled wall—the fatigue starting to seep into his bones. He doesn’t let himself complain, though, because if he’s feeling spent, he can only imagine how sore you must be feeling. He wonders if he should order some food for the both of you or just let you sleep right away.

“Wonwoo?”

He raises an eyebrow at your meek voice calling out to him. “Yeah?”

You shift a little on his lap, turning around as droopy eyes bore into his. Wonwoo is about to call you out for being weird, but the words evaporate on his tongue when you lean forward to peck his lips.

“Can I borrow your phone?”

He tilts his head to the side, wondering why you’re asking for his phone. You couldn’t possibly be asking him to film some content here in the tub…right?

Wonwoo watches in complete silence as you open his Twitter app—further feeding into his curiosity. But he doesn’t comment on whatever it is you’re about to do, patiently watching as you maneuver around the accounts logged onto his phone.

However, when you pull up on the Settings tab of that porn account the two of you have been running for months, scrolling all the way down—

“What are you doing?” he asks as your finger hovers over the ‘Deactivate account’ button.

You glance at him, confused. “I’m getting rid of this account. What else does it look like?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? I can’t share my sex tapes with the rest of the world now that I have a boyfriend.”

The bathroom falls silent for about three heartbeats before Wonwoo wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. You yelp in surprise, struggling against his iron-tight grip in a way that has water splashing all around you. Wonwoo couldn’t care less, though.

“I love you,” he murmurs into the naked skin of your shoulder.

You don’t respond for a while, like you’re surprised by his easy admission. But the tension in Wonwoo’s spine unravels when you rest your head across his shoulder, chuckling as you caress his face tenderly.

“Don’t you dare think I’ll let you off the hook though,” you chide. “You’ve got several months of dates to make up for. Just because you took the express lane into being my boyfriend, doesn’t mean you get to skip out on the effort that normally comes with it.”

Wonwoo shakes his head, turning your face so his eyes can meet yours.

He can’t believe he was stupid enough to run away from his own feelings for an entire month. If only he’d been more honest with both you and himself the last time he was here, he could’ve spent all the weeks after with you cradled in his embrace.

But then again, it’s the choices you both made so far that led you to where you are now.

And for now, he’s perfectly content with that.

“Challenge accepted.”

part one - part two - part three - part four

q: is there going to be a third part? a: yes! however, part 3 is literally just in its early stages of creation. i don't even have a serious doc for it, just a few vague plot bunnies gathering dust in my head SJDFHDFG BUT since i'm feeling generous, attached below is a little sneak peek of what you can expect!

This is, by far, the worst day of Mingyu’s life. Okay, maybe he’s exaggerating, but he likes to think that he’s a man of routine. If he doesn’t get to do his morning rituals right before his streams, it feels like the world has been tilted a few degrees off its proper axis. And that’s exactly what’s happening now, when Mingyu realizes that his favorite Twitter porn account is nowhere to be found. How the hell is he supposed to get his daily dose of relief now?

aaaaaand that's all i have for now! thank you so much for waiting patiently for this installment! it took me an entire month since i posted the teaser, but here it is hehe :3c i hope you all liked it! do stay tuned for that third part, whenever the hell i can get around to writing it T T

this is part of the game over series!

#svthub #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo smut #seventeen wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #svt smut #svt fanfic #lovelyhan #full length fic 📚

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be4chywritez · 2 months ago

Text

Afterglow | oscar piastri

oscar piastri x roommate!reader

you have a big fat crush on your roommate

request: heyyy, can u do oscar or lando or max w 28 and 36?

prompts: “accidentally” locking other out. (they’re roommates.), and "Quit smiling at me, I can't stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that."

beachy’s masterlist🐚

prompt list🐚

If you had told your thirteen-year-old self that your best friend’s really cute brother would one day be your roommate, she would have absolutely lost it.

But life works in mysterious ways. Oscar had always been a point of interest in your life—not just because you were next-door neighbors, but because you’d been close with his sisters. You were a year older than Hattie, and the two of you got along splendidly.

As university discussions became more frequent, you decided to take a leap, applying to the International University of Monaco. To your surprise, you got in. At seventeen, you packed your bags, said goodbye to the only home you’d ever known, and headed for a new life by the Mediterranean.

Leaving meant parting with your friends, your family, the Piastris—your second family—and the boy you’d secretly been in love with since you were thirteen.

Fast forward to 2023. You’re twenty-two, settled into an amazing job, and living comfortably in your lavish Monaco apartment. Your connection to home hasn’t faded—you still have regular calls with your parents and close friends.

During one of your weekly catch-ups, Hattie mentions that Oscar’s made it to Formula 1. You couldn’t be prouder. You remember her talking endlessly about his journey through F3, and you have no doubt that now, with him in F1, she won’t stop anytime soon.

After hanging up, you return to sketching prototypes for work, the details pulling you back in. So much so, you nearly miss the chime of your phone—nearly.

Glancing down, your heart skips a beat. It’s Oscar.

Hey, can I call you for a sec?

You hesitate for just a moment before typing back a quick Sure and setting your sketchbook aside.

Seconds later, your phone rings, and when you answer, the familiar sound of his voice sends a ripple of nervous energy through you. “Hey, long time no talk,” Oscar greets, his tone easygoing as always.

You clear your throat, trying to sound normal. “Yeah, it’s been a while. How’s everything going with you?”

“Busy, as usual,” he chuckles softly, and you find yourself fidgeting, your fingers lightly tapping against the sketchbook in your lap. His voice has always done this to you—made it hard to focus, made it hard to breathe, if you were being honest.

“Yeah, I can imagine,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. You’d known him for years, but now, with him on the line, your thoughts scatter. There’s a beat of silence before you speak again. “Hattie told me you got into Formula 1. That’s amazing, Oscar.”

“Thanks,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “It’s been pretty surreal.”

There’s another pause, a moment where you think the small talk is winding down, and you brace yourself for the inevitable goodbye. But instead, Oscar clears his throat. “Actually… I wanted to ask you something.”

You shift in your seat, nerves buzzing under your skin. “Sure, what’s up?”

“So, I’m moving to Monaco soon,” he starts, and the mention of Monaco—your Monaco—makes your heart skip again. “I was wondering… Would it be okay if I stayed with you for a bit? Just until I find a place of my own?”

Your breath catches, and you sit up straighter. Rooming with Oscar? The idea alone sends a jolt of panic and excitement through you. You’re quiet for a moment too long, and Oscar’s voice cuts through the silence.

“If it’s too much trouble, no worries. I can figure something else out.”

“No, no!” you rush out, maybe a little too quickly. “It’s fine, I mean—yeah, you can stay with me. It’s no trouble at all.”

The words leave your mouth before you can fully process what you’re agreeing to. The thought of sharing your space with him, being around him constantly, sends your mind spinning. But you can’t bring yourself to say no. Not to Oscar.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” he says, his voice light again, like the weight of the request is off his shoulders. “It’ll just be for a little while.

“Yeah, no worries,” you repeat, though inside, you’re anything but calm.

You hang up a few minutes later after more polite exchanges, but as you set your phone down, the reality of what you just agreed to hits you like a wave. Oscar Piastri, the boy you’d been in love with since you were a teenager, was going to be living with you.

And there’s no way you’re going to survive this unscathed.

That was a year ago.

Oscar hasn’t left as he promised. Not that you’re complaining—you like having his company, and you’d say he enjoys yours as well. But you weren’t going to lie: your crush on Oscar hadn’t faded. If anything, it had grown, expanding until it was something you could no longer ignore.

You’d gotten better at hiding it, of course. But there were moments—little, fleeting moments—when you’d catch yourself staring at him too long or feeling a spark when his hand brushed yours. And those moments? They were dangerous.

Living with him had brought its own routines, little traditions that had become your favorite parts of the week. Like Tuesday movie nights. It had started casually—something to fill the time—but now it was your unspoken ritual. The only complication was when Oscar was away for races, but even then, he’d FaceTime you, watching the movie along with you through the screen.

Tuesday movie nights had become a guilty pleasure, though you’d never admit it. You told yourself it was just because of the routine, but deep down, you knew it was because of him. The way he would sit close enough for your arms to touch, the way his laugh made your chest tighten. It was torture, and yet, you craved it every time.

And then there was the way he looked at you—so casual, so unbothered. He had no idea, did he? No idea how your heart raced every time he smiled at you or how the sound of his voice made you forget everything else.

You often wondered if Oscar noticed—if he could feel the tension simmering between you, or if he was just blissfully unaware. Sometimes, you thought you caught him looking at you a little too long, or that his teasing smile held something more. But you never let yourself hope too much. Not when he seemed so completely, utterly unaware of the effect he had on you.

And so, you kept pretending. Pretending that your feelings were buried, that living with Oscar was perfectly normal. But every day, it became harder to ignore the truth: you were still in love with him, and no amount of time or distance could change that.

It was another Tuesday night. Oscar got home earlier than usual, greeting you with a tired smile that made your heart do an inconvenient little flip. You felt oddly underdressed as he looked at you, even though you were in the comfort of your own apartment—cozy sweats and a tank top, nothing out of the ordinary. But something about the way his eyes lingered made your skin feel too warm.

You tried to shake it off, busying yourself by pulling out snacks from the cupboard for movie night. The crinkle of the chip bags was enough of a distraction—until Oscar walked back into the kitchen, out of his workout clothes and now wearing jeans and a simple white t-shirt.

You raised an eyebrow. Jeans? For movie night?

“So, I know it’s movie night,” he began, leaning against the counter, his hands gripping the granite. You watched the way his fingers flexed on the stone, trying not to think too much about how good he looked—like you hadn’t seen him in casual clothes a hundred times before.

“Yeah?” you prompted, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, you glanced up to find him already staring at you. His gaze was soft, but it sent a nervous flutter through your chest.

He rubbed the back of his neck, ruffling his hair. “Meredith from PR asked if I wanted to go for drinks.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you forced your face to stay neutral. You knew you shouldn’t feel this way—shouldn’t feel the sudden green wave of jealousy swirling in your stomach—but there it was.

“Oh,” you managed, shrugging like it didn’t matter. “Yeah, I get it. We don’t have to do movie night.”

Oscar’s lips curved into a small pout, and you had to look away because, God, that look was going to be the death of you. “I know you want to do movie night,” he muttered, almost as if he didn’t want to disappoint you.

You kept your eyes on the snack bags, pretending they were the most fascinating thing in the world. “It’s fine,” you said, though your voice was quieter than you intended. “You should go. It’s no big deal.”

There was a brief silence, one that stretched just a little too long for your liking. “Can we do movie night when I get back?” Oscar asked, and the hopeful tone in his voice made it impossible for you to say no.

You hesitated for just a second, your heart already betraying you. “Yeah, sure. What time will you be back?”

“Ten,” he said, and you nodded, already telling yourself that it was fine. You’d fill the time with work. That project needed attention, anyway.

Oscar smiled again, this time a little more relaxed, as grabbed his car keys and wallet. “I’ll see you later, then,” he said, heading for the door.

You forced yourself to smile back. “Yeah, see you later.”

As the door closed behind him, the apartment suddenly felt too quiet. You stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space where he’d been, and tried to push down the uncomfortable knot of jealousy twisting in your stomach. You shouldn’t care this much. He was just your roommate. Just Oscar.

But the pang in your chest told you otherwise.

You tried to shake off the unease, focusing on your project instead. Time passed in a blur of work until you wrapped things up around 9:30. Twenty minutes to spare.

You leaned back, glancing at the clock and then at your reflection in the nearby window. Before you could stop yourself, you found yourself reaching for your makeup bag. Just a little—subtle mascara, a swipe of lip gloss. You told yourself it was because you were bored. But deep down, you knew the truth: you wanted Oscar to see you.

A glance at the clock.

9:48.

You padded into the kitchen, rummaging through the snack cupboard once again. You pulled out some of Oscar’s favorites—chips, biscuits, a pack of his beloved Tim Tams. You reached to the back of the cupboard, fingers grazing the last pack of Tim Tams, and popped a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

The machine hummed as the kernels popped, the comforting sound filling the silence. You found yourself glancing at the clock again.

9:59.

The popcorn was done. You set it on the counter to cool slightly, and grabbed a few blankets from the couch, arranging them neatly. Tonight was your turn to pick the movie, and you had already decided on La La Land. A few sparkling waters from your last grocery run sat ready on the table.

And then you waited.

You sat on the couch, scrolling through Instagram to pass the time. The soft glow of your phone lit up your face, but the anticipation thrummed beneath your skin, distracting you.

10:15.

Your popcorn was cold.

10:25.

Condensation from the sparkling waters was beginning to leave small rings on the coffee table, pooling at the base of the cans.

10:30.

You sighed, the weight of disappointment settling over you. The TV screen remained frozen on the movie selection screen, your remote still in hand. With a frustrated click, you powered it off and got to your feet. Slowly, you folded the throw blankets, placing them back where they belonged. The cold popcorn went straight into the trash.

Sitting back down on the couch, you stared at the wall for a long moment, a heavy feeling growing in your chest. Why were you waiting for him? Why did it hurt so much?

In a snap decision, you stood up and walked to the front door. You pulled it open, crouching down to check beneath the mat for the spare key. Your fingers closed around it, and you slipped it into your pocket.

Oscar never bothered to take his apartment keys when you were home, always joking about how you had “Oscar tingles”—how you’d somehow know exactly when he was coming home and be ready to open the door. It wasn’t tingles at all, though. You just… waited for him.

Except tonight, you weren’t going to wait anymore.

After locking Oscar out, you settle on the couch, arms crossed tightly, trying to ignore the guilt creeping in. Sure, locking him out might have been petty, but he deserved a little consequence for coming home late. Still, your phone buzzes again—his name flashing on the screen.

“You locked me out.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, debating whether to reply. After a beat, you type:

“Oops. Thought you had your keys.”

“I didn’t take them because you’re always here.”

You hesitate, knowing you can’t leave him out there forever. Letting out a sigh, you slowly rise, dragging your feet toward the door. When you open it, Oscar is standing there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking at you with that familiar easy smile.

He doesn’t seem irritated at all. In fact, he’s grinning like this whole thing is some kind of joke.

“Took you long enough,” he says, stepping past you with a shrug. “I was starting to think you’d make me sleep in the hall.”

You force a smirk, stepping aside. “Maybe you would’ve learned something out there.”

As he walks by, you notice his shirt—rumpled, his collar slightly crooked. Then, you see it: a faint smudge of lipstick near the edge of his neck. Your stomach drops, but you swallow down the sting, forcing yourself to play it cool.

Oscar heads for the couch, oblivious as always, and stretches out comfortably. You stay near the doorway, arms crossed, your gaze flicking over him as you try to keep your voice light.

“Rough night, huh?” you ask, eyes lingering on his collar and the mark on his neck.

Oscar frowns a little, looking down at his shirt before brushing at the smudge casually. “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t paying attention. Meredith’s friends get a little… enthusiastic when they’re drinking.” He chuckles, seemingly unaware of the effect his words have on you.

You force a smile, your voice sharper than you mean. “Clearly.” You gesture vaguely at his collar. “Looks like someone really went for it.”

He glances down again, this time actually noticing the mess of his collar, and shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d care about my wardrobe choices.”

You laugh, though it’s hollow. “Oh, I don’t. Just thought you might want to… tidy up a bit. Wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea.”

Oscar, still completely relaxed, glances over at you, confused but not concerned. “What wrong idea?”

You stare at him for a moment, caught between wanting to scream and laugh at his complete obliviousness. Instead, you force out a sarcastic reply.

“Nothing,” you mutter, your voice dripping with bitterness. “Just looking out for your reputation.”

Oscar, unaware of the storm inside you, smiles softly and turns his attention back to the couch. “Right. So, still up for that movie? I did say we’d watch it.”

You swallow down the surge of frustration, nodding even though your chest feels tight. “Sure. Why not?”

You head to the kitchen, not to grab the snacks you’d laid out earlier—those were already thrown out when the disappointment set in—but to busy yourself with something, anything, to avoid looking at him. Your chest feels tight, and your head is spinning.

You settle back on the couch with Oscar, and though you’ve tried to compose yourself, the weight of everything unsaid presses down hard. He’s right there—so close—but he might as well be a million miles away.

The movie starts, but you can’t focus. Your eyes flick to the screen, but your mind races. Oscar is relaxed beside you, oblivious, a faint smile on his face as he settles into the film. Meanwhile, the tension inside you is almost unbearable.

And somehow, despite everything, he remains blissfully unaware.

You’re about halfway through La La Land when you suddenly feel Oscar’s arm settle around your shoulders. His fingers brush against your skin, and for a second, it feels like everything stops. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, and your heart skips a beat.

Without thinking, you shrug it off. “I, uh… I think I want some crisps.” The words tumble out of your mouth, and before he can react, you practically leap off the couch, heading straight for the kitchen like your life depends on it.

You tell yourself you’re just hungry, but your racing heart and flushed cheeks betray the truth. Your hands tremble as you fumble with the cupboard door, staring blankly at the shelves.

Suddenly, you sense him behind you. He’s so close you can feel the warmth radiating off him.

“You okay?” Oscar’s voice is calm, but there’s a hint of concern in it.

You nod, even though your heart is hammering in your chest. “Y-Yeah, totally fine. Just, you know… snack cravings.” You don’t dare turn around, because you know if you look at him, you’ll probably combust.

Oscar steps even closer, his breath now ghosting over your shoulder. “You sure?” he asks, his tone soft, as if he can sense something’s off.

And that’s when it happens. You can’t hold it in anymore. The dam breaks, and the words spill out, fast and frantic.

“No! No, I’m not okay! Because I’ve been in love with you since I was thirteen, okay? And it’s driving me absolutely insane because you are so damn clueless and oblivious, and I thought maybe after you moved in, my feelings would just—poof—disappear, but they didn’t! They got worse! And then you come home late with lipstick on your neck, and your stupid rumpled shirt, and I try to pretend like I don’t care, but I do, Oscar! I really do! And you just keep acting like we’re—like we’re buddies, and I can’t—”

You stop, panting slightly from the rapid-fire confession, and that’s when you notice it.

Oscar is smiling.

Not just smiling—grinning. A huge, cheeky grin spreads across his face, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Your face flushes even hotter, and you glare at him. “Quit smiling at me! I can’t stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that.”

Oscar’s grin softens, but he doesn’t stop smiling. Instead, he takes a step closer, closing the gap between you. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?” he murmurs.

You open your mouth to respond, but the words die on your tongue as he suddenly pulls you in, pressing his lips against yours. It’s not the gentle, tentative kiss you might have imagined. No, this is full-on, heart-stopping, world-tilting, toe-curling. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, and for a moment, you completely melt into it, into him.

But then, reality crashes back down. You shove him back, eyes wide as you remember the smudges of lipstick, the crumpled collar, the late night out.

“What about—what about the girls from the bar?” you stammer, stepping back, heart still racing from the kiss.

Oscar blinks, and then understanding dawns. “The lipstick?” He reaches up, brushing a finger over the spot you’d noticed earlier, and then laughs softly. “It was Meredith’s friend. She tripped, spilled her drink, and kind of… crashed into me. PR disaster, but nothing else.” He shrugs, completely calm as always. “I didn’t mention it earlier because, well, I didn’t think it mattered. Guess I should’ve explained, huh?”

You stare at him, still processing what he’s just said. The knot in your stomach starts to loosen, but your heart is still racing for entirely different reasons now.

Oscar steps closer again, his smile softer but unwavering. “You’re the one I want to be with. Not some random girl from a bar. Just you.” His voice is quiet, but there’s no hesitation in it. He looks at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You feel your breath catch, the weight of everything you’ve been holding in for so long starting to lift. But instead of saying anything, you just stand there, staring at him, your mind a mess of emotions. His hand gently finds yours, and even that small touch sends another spark of warmth through you.

For once, Oscar isn’t oblivious. He can see the worry in your eyes, hope and doubt swirling in your mind. “Hey,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand gently, pulling you out of your head. “It’s always been you. I thought you knew that.”

You blink at him, still trying to believe it’s real. But the way he’s looking at you, so calm and sure… it’s hard not to believe him.

And maybe, just maybe, this isn’t as complicated as you’d made it out to be.

#op81 imagine #be4chywrites #f1 x reader #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri imagine #op81 x reader #op81 #op81 fic

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year ago

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 9)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 8, Part 10

summary: You both come to a realisation.

warnings: smut! f! masturbation, grinding, humping, fingering, (implied) recreational drug use, alcohol, dubcon (-ish! reader is drunk but the interaction is consensual, tagging just in case xx), teeny tiny bit of mutual pining. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: yuhh

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 7.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

all that light lost in gaps

You're gone, in the morning.

…he should've expected it. Miguel stumbles out of sleep, groggy and disoriented. He finds himself reaching out for something in the half-light.

He finds himself reaching for you. And when you're not there, leaving a person sized gap at the crook of his arm, his stomach churns. He pretends it's not disappointment, or the sharp crack of yearning ; settling at his chest like a crowbar, and prying open his ribs. It's worry, he decides resolutely, a perfectly normal, healthy amount of worry. As your roommate; and nothing else, he keeps reminding himself; he's just worried about where you've rushed off to, especially after yesterday.

Senior year. He was assigned a bullshit paper in a Civics class – one he'd usually half-ass for an easy A. He'd wax poetic about morality – amorphous, vague platitudes about duty and societal expectations. By the end of the year, he had it down to a science: a couple thousand words remixed and plucked from lesser known philosophers, videos online, and overdue library books. Either he was getting too good at it, or his teacher was too stupid to notice; but regardless, he coasted through the class right up until graduation. His last paper, and he remembers it distinctly, was on the book of the same name; aptly titled What We Owe Each Other. A plodding, pluralistic read; of which he had only scanned through, anyways. Extra credit, anything to graduate early, and he'd had more than enough on his plate at the time.

And so, he wasn't expecting the B+ underlined and circled in red ink on the front page. It felt like his teacher had handed it back to him face down, slammed onto the desk like the thunderous crack of a whip. And he didn't need that A, strictly speaking. Yet, he had found himself staying over after class, crinkling that piece of paper in hand as he'd asked why.

She sighs. Miss Hunter's glasses slip down her nose, as they are prone to do.

"You're an outstanding student. I hear you're graduating early, and you're off somewhere prestigious in the fall. This is… definitely not a bad grade, and it's nothing, I promise you."

It doesn't work like that, for him. His teacher doesn't get it, but it will eat him up inside-out if he's not able to understand.

"Was it my referencing?" He fumbles with the strap of his bag.

"No. Not at all–"

"I did the extra reading…the article you mentioned in class, and–"

He's cut off by the scrape of a desk chair. Miss Hunter gets up to close the door, before settling on her desk.

Arms crossed, she seems tired. Worried, maybe, but it doesn't register with Miguel. The thought doesn't even cross his mind, that there are others with the capacity to worry about him.

"Technically, it's well written. As usual, Miguel." She gives him a weak smile. "It just… lacked heart."

His brows jump up. "...heart?"

"There's not really a narrative voice, here."

He taps at the paper on the desk, frustrated. "You didn't ask for a narrative voice, though. You didn't ask for… for heart. I read the book, I did the extra reading, and I wrote a report. That was the brief."

"Not quite." She says it gently, but it still sounds like nails on a chalkboard to him. "The brief was vague, intentionally so. 'What Do We Owe Each Other? Discuss.' I gave examples, sure: excerpts from the book we touched on in class, articles, academic papers, etcetera. They were… suggestions."

"...suggestions." He's incredulous.

She nods. "You followed it to the letter, Miguel. You gave me a summary, with a few key links. Fully referenced, yes. Well-written, yes. But this feels like a sum of parts. It doesn't tell me anything about you; your perspective, your angle. Your voice."

He's biting back choice words. It sounds like bullshit to him, for lack of a better word. Flowery, hoity-toity BS; served up to him on a steaming platter. That's it?

Maybe it shows on his face, because she's asking, as delicately as possible,

"Is everything okay?"

Instinctually, he seizes up.

"Yeah. Yes. I'm good."

"I know you don't take this class as seriously because it's not an AP, or an elective, or maybe not as challenging as you need it to be. And that's okay, Miguel. I'm happy for you to use my class as a break from all the other stuff." She swallows thickly. "You're not from our usual feeder schools. The Academy is particularly rigorous. But considering your… situation, we can make exceptions. If there's anything I can do–"

"There isn't a 'situation'."

"Right. Of course, I'm sorry. But if you need a couple days off of school because of…" She pasues, saying the next part softly. "Because of the baby… I mean, you're already acing my class–"

"No." He says it firmly, eyes trained onto the wood grain peeking out from underneath piles of documents. He wants to ask how she knows, and how he's always the last to find out that rumours have spread, and–

"Miguel." Her voice cuts through dense fog. She repeats her previous statement. “If there's anything I can do–”

“If you want to help, you can give me that A.” It's bone dry, said with the kind of sarcasm he's grown accustomed to. He wears it over his shoulders, sometimes; draped to keep out biting cold, or unfamiliar warmth from a stranger - it all feels the same, now.

She gives him a rueful smile. “Need more than that, m'afraid.”

Heart. Voice. What We Owe Each Other – and he doesn't know why that phrase sticks in his throat. It's been drilled into him since childhood; family and community, helping each other out of the starting blocks; and beaten out of him during adolescence. The creaking and cracking of bones after each step, where out in the world it's a different matter entirely.

His mama has bad taste in men, and he finds himself picking up the pieces. Gabi is more sensitive than he'll ever admit, trying not to cry amongst broken plates and chicken-wire hidden in a bouquet of peonies: prickly words that cut and hack, and it's Miguel that wipes the tears from his brother's cheek. That devastatingly gentle sigh when he had told his mama what he had done - how he had fallen for a soft bed and even softer lips at the ripe age of 16 and a half - and Miguel carries that weight. What We Owe Each Other – and he's only ever fed entitled egos. Not his family, of course, but he's been burned. He's had more than his fair share of it.

He doesn't owe the world shit, he thinks.

He doesn't owe you shit.

It doesn't help that he's been stuck in place, grasping at cushion covers and a raggedy blanket. Trying not to drown in the heady scent of you, he's been dragging thick fingers over the fabric as if in a trance. You don't owe him anything, either. Nary an apology, an explanation; so much as a sorry spilling from pretty lips in that way where they quiver like a gentle flame.

He's touched them, felt them drag across his skin like the finest silk, and dropped to his knees in search of something you've never given him. It doesn't matter if you don't; kiss him , that is; the swirling, desperate sort that leaves him heaving and creaking and begging for more. He thinks he'd still scuff up the denim at his knees if you asked, regardless - he'd do anything , if it was for you.

It's not realistic to expect anything from you. You don't need to tell him where you've gone or why you've left so early. You don't need to, and yet he finds himself reaching for his phone.

Miguel sends a well placed message; deft fingers tapping away at the screen. Before he changes his mind, it's sent; and he's chewing his lip whilst waiting for a steady three dots. Lyla is slower than usual, but she comes through. She doesn't ask questions - because she knows him better than he knows himself - and gives him a thumbs up.

They'll call each other later, that much he's sure of, but for now he reads between the lines. Short bursts of text, like firecrackers flashing across a night sky, and only through nonsensical emojis and odd slang can they understand each other.

This part, he can do. And he'll do whatever he needs to, not what he owes.

~~~

You make it to Pam's just after it opens.

At 7 o'clock sharp, you've made the journey; in an empty subway car, spilling out onto the streets like treacle left in the neck of a bottle. It's not quite a squeeze, passing by only a handful of people, with nothing but a jacket thrown over last night's clothes. In a daze, you realise too late: it's Miguel's. A dusty, worn thing; brown leather crackling at the sleeves and heavy on your shoulders. It feels like a hug, and it feels like him : warm and stiff. It smells like him too, and you bury your nose in the collar on the subway, sleeves kissing your palm like his hand is in yours.

It's a feeling that takes you all the way to the doors: past the slats bolted shut and down a familiar alley. You push past them, sneakers on slick tiles, and give a weak smile to the woman that perks up from behind the counter, kicking away the mop and bucket.

"Hiya, welcome to Pam's! How can I–"

"Oh, God , no." You wave her off. "Take your time. I need a minute, if that's okay."

Settling on the barstool, you watch as the young woman smiles, picking up a rag and wiping at the counter. You sit in it, for a while.

Dregs drip in through the front. The bell at the top of the door chimes, tinny and cheerful in the relative gloom of a quiet morning.

It's cold , outside. Autumn, biting at your fingers and nose. Eventually you opt for a coffee, piping hot to stave off that chill. Bitter, the aftertaste lingers at the back of your throat. You find yourself picking at the chipped mug, chasing away that taste with fluffy pancakes. The combination doesn't feel quite the same – not after many a morning with your roommate.

You settle into the seat. You wrap that old jacket around you. You sip at tart coffee and pick at your nails. A quiet morning, one to yourself, one to keep hidden at the crook of your chest. Some semblance of peace , wrapped up in the spindles of a dandelion. That is to say; delicate and fleeting, whipped away by the breeze.

You've decided not to think too hard about it. That kind of thinking ends dangerously, you've realised: with long, hot nights spent tossing and turning. It ends with a head full of cotton, and a pounding at your chest. With blood, with tears, with a stranger in your bed. And so, you go for the cleaner option. The safer one, all things considered, that's less likely to end in a broken heart.

You float around for a while. Walking without a real destination, trying to ground yourself. Eventually, you end up home, opening the door to an empty apartment. There's no traces left of a night spent in Miguel's arms. Good, you think, slipping your shoes off at the door. It doesn't feel good , but if you say it enough times you just might believe it.

The cleaner option; the one with less gristle and bone; is a familiar one. You settle into a shower; steamy and soapy, taking your time to clean out the blood from under your fingernails. The grime, the dirt ; you watch it swirl into the drain, hands running across soft flesh. You try to do it like Jamie did, once upon a time. It doesn't feel right, and has you leaning onto the cool tile. The shower head sputters, a shaky pressure on your back but you lean into it and close your eyes. You rub a hand at the crook of your chest, and then down, down, down, circling your breast and then following the curve of hips to the apex of your legs. Tipping your head, letting the hot water stream through your hair and then your back; and you touch, feel , and you can almost taste him ; sweet and saccharine Miguel, at your lips.

With two fingers flat against your clit, you rub little circles at the nub, dipping into your hole for much needed wetness. Your other hand travels up soft skin, pads of your fingers grazing collarbone, and then they curl around your neck. With a little pressure, your thumb grazes your jaw. Like he does, except your hands aren't as deliciously rough or as large. You slip a finger in, and then two, water pounding your back and eyes screwed. You push past that initial tightness, searching for a little give. When it comes, cunt clenching around your fingers, just shy of that sweet spot as you press your clit with the heel of your palm; you're imagining it's your roommate. He'd wrap those thick forearms around you, press his cock to the crest of your back and touch you like you deserve.

You do it like Miguel would, reverent , touching you as if you were clay at a potter's wheel. In the hands of God herself, you cum; falling, falling, falling; tumbling down white water rapids and spit back up into the rushing water. You're panting, now, out of breath.

When you sink onto your bed, you realise it's not quite enough. Still in a fluffy robe, steam curls from your skin like clouds – ones that smell of cheap body wash and shampoo. Before you know it, you're reaching for your phone, sending two quick messages to a certain somebody.

[Sent: 15:32]

hey mig

[Sent: 15:32]

where did u go?

You don't expect a quick reply - he's never been much of a texter. But those three dots pop up in no time at all, much to your surprise.

[Received: 15:33]

Out.

[Received: 15:33]

Running errands.

It's succinct and to the point – of which you expect nothing else from Miguel. Your thumbs fly to the screen to reply but another message tugs the rug out from under your shaky legs.

[Received: 15:35]

Is everything okay?

[Sent: 15:35]

yeah

[Sent: 15:36]

all good

When that provides no response, you're left chewing on your lip, anxious. He's seen the message, he's read the message; but for some reason, several minutes go by and there's no response.

You're ready to give up and chalk it to your roommate's hot-and-cold nature, when your phone rings.

Immediately, you pick up.

" Don't believe you." His voice rings out, tinny, nestled amongst the covers.

"Hey, Mig." You settle down on the bed, putting him on speaker and placing it by your ears.

" Did you hear what I said?" His tone is deep and intense, making you shiver. It's not quite the same, of course, but you're reminded of nights spent with his lips tucked close the shell of your ear.

You swallow. "Yeah. I… I did."

" You sure? Because you suck at lying."

"Don't be an asshole."

" Think I get a free pass when you disappear for the whole day."

You roll your eyes. “You didn't call–”

“ Would you have answered?”

Ouch. He sounds frustrated, the quiet chatter of his background bathed in heavy silence. Silence thick with tension, and you almost choke on it.

He breaks it with a heavy sigh. “ You okay? ”

“No. Not really.”

“ Okay. ” He lets it sit for a while, before saying, “ I'll be home, soon. There's leftovers in the fridge, and you should eat, sweetheart. You want anything from the store? ”

His voice is so, so soft. It crackles like kindling on a fire: warmth that blooms and spreads to your chest. Like slipping off frozen gloves to thaw off in front of a heater, and he just makes you feel impossibly warm.

“Not really, thanks.” You mumble it, and hear a satisfied grunt from the other end. Before you change your mind, you say, “Sorry. M'sorry.”

Miguel gives a light chuckle and you think you can hear him smile, the kind you always chase after a stupid argument: one that tugs at the corners of his pretty lips.

“ You've got nothin' to be sorry about .”

He gives you a moment to feel the weight of his words, and ends the call. That heat at your chest blooms.

If Miguel O'Hara is the Sun, then maybe you don't mind being pulled into his orbit; bathing in steady light and warmth.

~~~

He comes home with flowers. A beautiful bouquet; delicate and balanced, featherlight wildflowers and brush, interspersed with sprays of blue and purple and pink. It's wonderfully dense, reminding you of the tangles of colour a child might decorate a picture with in wobbly crayon. Simply put, it's nothing short of a vision, and you notice how delicately he places it on the dining table.

With the rest of the grocery bags, Miguel clatters in, and you can't help but be curious. You're poking through the bags, sitting on the counter as he puts them away – after offering to help, of course, but he bats you away easily. Your bare legs bristle in the chill brought on by the window cracked open, and he just breezes past.

The cabinet opens with a thud , and your roommate busies himself with putting away food. Carefully, you watch the way the muscles of his back flexes this way and that - cut and lean under that thin sweater. He’s otherwise occupied, and so you take the opportunity to stare, playing with a loose string at the hem of silky shorts. And so, it makes you jump when your phone buzzes beside you. Innocuously, you glance at the notification, and your eyes go wide.

“Who’s that?” Miguel asks, voice light. With that freaky sixth sense of his, he doesn’t need to turn around to know, it seems.

“Lyla.” You murmur, reading the rest of the message.

“ ...And? ”

“Uh. Well…” Blinking, you can’t quite believe what she’s asking. “ Girl’s Night . I-I mean… she’s asking me to come with her for a Girl’s Night.”

“Really?” His tone is surprising, and you can hear how he beams by its lilting nature. Maybe he’s laughing at you, maybe he’s not, but you snap back regardless.

“ ... don’t act so surprised.”

“ You sound surprised.” He laughs.

“It’s different when I do it.” You say simply. “I just… I didn’t expect it. I didn’t even know we were close enough to–”

“Bullshit. You text her all the time.”

“A couple of times, Mig.” You correct him, trying to pin down a suitable response to give Lyla. You draw a blank. “I don’t want her to feel like she has to, or anything.”

He turns around, sleeves still rolled up. The look he gives makes you wither: one that could say about a million things. You think it means cut the crap , but he could just be constipated: you haven't quite mastered the art of reading Miguel O’Hara.

“Do you want to go?” He gets closer, hand flat on the counter next to your thigh.

You nod, and his hand creeps up and up.

Giving you a little smile, he shrugs. “Then go.”

It makes you shy. Bashful , even; and you’re wriggling as he squeezes the flesh. A hand on his forearm, and he’s close; so much so that all you can feel is the press of skin, and feel gentle breath fluttering past your cheek. You’re stuck underneath the gaze of his pretty lashes, and entranced at the way he licks his even prettier lips. A sudden thought seizes you - so heavy it makes your chest tight and leaden.

Oh. You want to kiss him.

In a moment, it’s gone. A broad palm nudges your thigh aside, and you’re shifting so he can reach the drawers just by your legs. You oblige, falling back into familiar routine.

Life moves on. Like Miguel said it would, and you find yourself entwined with the idea of time passing. Lying awake each night, picking out sand from underneath your fingernails, after clawing your way out of the hourglass. Steady, slow dregs; and it's tipped over each morning, restarting the clock.

The flowers disappear from the dining table. Miguel retreats into the folds and dark corners of your apartment; you see him less and less. Passing ships in the night, you seem to miss each other by a fraction of a second. All of a sudden he's busy , and all of a sudden you're swamped with work. You only see each other at night, looking out for the bits and pieces left as proof of life: sometimes he'll leave a hot flask out for you in the mornings, and you'll greet him with a cheesy soap in the evenings. If he's not leaving later and later after work, that is.

He looks tired, you note. Exhausted; prone to little yawns as you turn to him every now and then whilst watching on the couch. It's sweet, the way his frown has made way to a dopey smile, but it's frayed at the edges, tinged with something you can't quite place. You let him sleep that night, bringing pillows to lay his head on, and wrapping him up in that old blanket.

Girl's night creeps up on you. It shakes you by the shoulders when you collapse on the sofa after a long day – and you're rushing to get ready. There's no Miguel to make sly remarks or prod you into action, this time. You wonder what he'd say about what you're wearing; a leftover dress buried in boxes from your ex's apartment.

Short, tight, snug; it has you feeling glamorous – but you hope it doesn't look as fanciful as it feels. Too much; yet again, you're worried about being too much. Even though you're running a little late, you take the time to carefully apply makeup; something shiny on your lids, a dab of blush, and gloss slathered onto your lips. When you sling on little heels, and snatch a petite bag from the hooks near the door, there's barely enough time to catch that last glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Down and out you go, into a dusky night.

~~~

“I had to go through her manager– and wait, can you believe this girl has a fucking manager, now?” Lyla bats at MJ's shoulder, and the redhead laughs good-naturedly.

“It's not– she's exaggerating! My manager's just my mom, I swear.”

“It's a good thing, no?” You smile, taking a healthy swig of a brightly coloured cocktail.

“It means she is booked, and–” Lyla hiccups, raising an unsteady glass that threatens to tip. MJ straightens her elbow instinctually, before raising her own. “ – very busy .”

It's your turn to laugh, glass held high in the air. With a clink , there's a clash of crystal that's all but drowned out by the chatter in the upscale bar.

Somewhere fancy, courtesy of Lyla. One of those places that serves tiny portions in big, empty plates, a fusion of cultural food with white, upper class owners. No-doubt the result of summering somewhere in the ever-broad global South , Lyla had said slyly, under the lip of a menu.

There's powdered sugar on the rim of your flute. It dissolves on your tongue. You down the rest. Sickly sweet, and you wipe what drips onto your lips.

It has you checking your phone. Miguel hasn't called, not that you were expecting anything. Whilst Lyla and MJ talk, you scroll mindlessly through his chat; a smattering of one word answers. Missed calls. Unanswered messages.

" –what about you, babe?"

Your eyes snap back up to meet Lyla's, expectant.

"Uhhh…"

"Nevermind." Sharp eyes travel to your phone, and there's a flash of recognition. "Miggy said you're in school. He said you're gonna graduate early, this year."

"He said that?" You're confused. "I mean… I'm trying but it's not looking like that, right now."

She wags a finger, shaking her head like she's trying to remember something. "No, no, he seemed adamant. Said you're working hard, doing well."

"Doing better ." You correct her, shyly.

" Bullshit. " She says it the way Miguel does, and it makes you laugh. You see it now; he's the product of the people he loves. A kind of Frankenstein's monster, he's stitched together those bits and pieces; he's made himself beautiful. You wonder what piece of you he carries. If he even holds you that close to his chest.

"I bet you're doing amazing. " MJ finishes. Her smile is warm, and copper-coloured; it feels hazy and ambered in your little corner. "Better than me, anyways. I would rather die than go back to college."

"Back?" You ask.

"Oh, of course! You don't know." She giggles, leaning in like she's about to say something scandalous - the drink is clearly doing its job. Her next words are an exaggerated stage whisper. "I dropped out."

" Seriously? " You play along, with faux shock.

"...damn right she did." Lyla gives a drunken wave to a nearby waiter, asking for another glass of wine. Something expensive, she whispers, giving a deceptive smile.

"It just wasn't for me, I guess. I went because everyone around me was going, even Pete. Uhh, English Lit, or something. And it didn't… I–I mean it just wasn't–"

"It didn't click."

" Right!" She snaps her fingers. "It was too much. I didn't know what I was doing, I was 18, for God's sake. Think I stuck at it for a bit too long, honestly."

"...and the world didn't explode." You breathe.

MJ answers with a knowing nod. She chugs the rest of a crisp Mojito, raising the empty glass once more.

"To doing better ."

You're quick to follow. "To doing better."

Lyla frowns, looking for a glass that's tucked into the corner. The room must be spinning already, with the way she pats around for it. You nudge it towards her with an elbow, and she's raucous; crumpling into a fit of giggles.

One drink turns to two, two turns to three, and then four ; until you're ready to spill out onto the busy strip. When the waiter places a slip of paper into the centre, one with so many zeroes it makes your eyes bulge, you don't even have to pretend to reach for your wallet. Gleefully, Lyla picks up the bill, sliding a shiny Amex card onto the dish.

She's generous, you note, as she buys a bottle of wine to go when MJ picks up her bag. She's perceptive, too. You see it when MJ wrings her hands, still tipsy and stuttering in her heels as you pile onto the street. She's making apologies already - I've got an early start and need to see my May - but Lyla intercepts. There's the gentle clink of a bottle thrust into her hands, something expensive, and she kisses the apples of her cheeks before sending her off in a taxi.

Her own cheeks are ruddy, rosy with drink and she splits into a wide smile. The back of her hand comes up to your neck. Warm , she whispers, before linking arms with you like a schoolgirl off to do something they shouldn't.

Eventually, with shaky legs, you end up in a nightclub. She knows someone who knows someone, apparently, and you're ushered into a packed place just off 76th. Lights and pounding music, a flurry of limbs; you let the crowd take you in. If this is what it means to be a part of a whole; some writhing, heaving beast, to be more than your hand in someone else's and theirs in yours; then you could live here forever, you think. Forever, for the night, for the next ten minutes; you blink , and time passes.

You're having fun, you think. Letting the blood rush to your head, hips swaying to the music and you don't push away the quiet snap of a phone camera, nor it's red recording light. Dancing, singing, many seem to be pulled into orbit around you. This is how it works , pushed into an ebb and flow of people held together by broken lyrics and a thumping bassline. You let it wash over you, all-consuming, dragging yourself into murky depths.

You're in a booth, now, anchored by a dainty hand around your wrist. Pupils blown, she cups your face to inspect you, to figure out where you've gone. Someone's bought you a drink, there's a stranger's arm around your shoulders, but Lyla pushes them both away. Too much? It's a question, of which you shake your head firmly - lolling and with a distinct lack of fine motor skills - no. Not enough.

You blink. Bitter liquor hits your throat, and you chase the taste of somebody else's lips. A stranger, and even under the influence you know it doesn't feel right. Bile rises, and you're gone, clamping onto your stomach and trying not to hurl.

You blink. You're on the sidewalk, with a heavy head on someone's shoulder. The strap of your heels dig into your ankles and you fumble with it, trying to stop the road from spinning. Lyla holds you up, not much more up to task than you are.

A car pulls up, and at first you don't recognise it; entranced by shiny rims coming to a stop. You look up, still buried in Lyla's thick jacket; and you see it. You see him.

Miguel's wearing glasses. That's the first thing you notice, stumbling to your feet. Immediately, your face cracks into a dopey smile, leaning onto the lip of the open window. He gives you a once over, swallowing thickly, brows drawn.

Quiet chatter flys straight over your head. Lyla arguing, Miguel wagging a finger at her; but all you can see is him. It's like you've got blinkers on, tunnel vision making you focus on the curve of cheekbone, and the way his eyes scrunch up around black rims and glass.

You clamber into the backseat.

“Get in, Ly.”

The other woman seems resolute. “ M'not –”

“Did you take something?”

“Fuck you.” Flashing a middle finger, she wraps up her coat like a robe, walking away down the road.

He's adamant, driving up next to her. You keep your head on the glass where it's cool.

“Let me take you home. Please. ”

Frowning, she stops. When he leans over to open the passenger's side, she slips off her boots, and sidles in.

Their voices feel like a blur. You can barely register, only picking up half of the words hissed under their breath.

“... I called you, you can't give me a lecture…”

“...not fair, Lyla…. can't keep babysitting…”

“... fucking hypocrite… not the only one… I'm going through some shit…”

“...too far…. always taking it too…”

He drops her off outside of the apartment. From the backseat, you're sobering up; able to catch his heavy sigh as he watches her through the window. It's only when he sees her walk in does he turn to you, passing bottled water kept in the console.

“You want to come out to the front?”

You like the way he says it, for some reason. Any anger or frustration he had towards Lyla dissipates. He doesn't bring that into a quiet conversation with you.

He's too solemn, too serious, and so you clamber into the front over the console; limbs and legs everywhere, as obnoxiously as you can. A slight elbow to his chest, a hand clutching his shirt; you want to make him laugh. As you settle onto the seat, you see it: huffing dramatically, he gives you a small smile.

Miguel reverses back out onto the road.

You blink, and you're home. Legs still shaky, he helps you up the stairs, settling you onto the sofa. Car keys clink onto the dish by the door, and he slips off his coat – that brown one, your favourite, you think.

Fumbling with the strap of your heels, it must be too painful for him to watch as Miguel settles by your feet. His big, strong hands are surprisingly deft when he undoes the dainty buckle.

“Are you mad at me?” Meekishly, you watch and he shakes his head, not making eye-contact. Maybe it's the alcohol, but you're staring; looking for that light in his eyes amongst the dark room.

Now, he looks up. “What?”

“M'just looking.” You say, chewing the inside of your cheek as one shoe slips off. “ I'm not allowed to look?”

The other one comes off, and he hisses when he spots a little cut where the strap dug into your ankle. He can't help it, rolling it gently in his hands, trying to ease the pain with a massage.

“You wear glasses.” You say it softly, more to yourself than to anyone else. Giggling now, you cradle his face and he sits up. “I didn't know that.”

“ That's not – I've always worn glasses. You're just not paying attention.” He shrugs lazily, but he's smiling.

“Not true , Mig. I would've noticed.”

“You're drunk–”

“When it's you, I always pay attention.” Absent-mindedly, your hand curls into his hair. He keens . “Like… your hair's getting longer.”

Gently, he shakes out of your grip, getting up. “I know, I know. I need a haircut.”

“I like it.” Starry-eyed, you look up at him. “You're so pretty, Mig.”

It makes him heave. Still tipsy, your legs spread ever so slightly, hand taking his and pulling him closer. Placing his hand on your thigh, you let it trace up, up, up, catching at the hem of your short dress.

He practically caves in, collapsing next to you on the couch.

“You should–” His eyes are glassy as you ease yourself onto his lap. “ F-Fuck . You should go to bed, sweetheart.”

Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you roll your hips, watching as he groans wantonly.

“But I'm not tired.” His hand ends up on your waist, applying just the right amount of pressure. Underneath, you can feel him stir, increasingly hard under loose sweats. “And you haven't touched me in weeks. ”

You're exaggerating, but it goes to his head anyway. He buries his head into the crook of your shoulder, whispering into the bare skin.

“I know, I know…”

“Just the tip, Miguel.” You're grinding your clit onto him, pussy barely covered by a thin thong. Whispered into the shell of his ear, you're a siren, honeyed words dangerously close to breaking him down. “Just the tip, and I promise , I'll let it go. Please , baby.”

Your dress rides up, and his hands come down to palm at your ass.

“ Please…” You're pleading, lips on his neck as he squeezes, forcing you down to hump directly over his cock.

“Oh, shit.” His hips jump once, twice; and then he stills, hands at your hips and ass to stop you.

Desperate, you whine, trying to fight against it. He doesn't let up, hand cradling your chin so you can look him in the eye.

“ Bed .” He says, shakily. “Not like this.”

He slips you off, noticeably adjusting his pants. Legs spread wide, head tipped back as he sighs; he looks delicious , and you're fighting off the urge to let him take you right there and then.

You stumble through the little hallway, pushing past some doors. Something clatters into your thigh, and you hear a dull thud as another thing falls to the floor. Frustrated, you strip down to your underwear, something light and lacy and it leaves very little to the imagination.

There's a bed, and you collapse on it; swimming in the silky sheets. It smells like him - musky and oaky and gentle - and you think you must be dreaming already. And then, you sit up, realising too late - this isn't your room.

Miguel wasn't too far off, hearing the thumping and clattering; hesitant as he opens the door. You're wrapped up like a present, spilling out of lingerie on his bed. He swallows, turning away to dig into his wardrobe, intending to pull out a baggy shirt for you.

“ Miguel .” You croak, but he ignores the want in your voice, so heavy it goes straight to his cock. “Miguel, please. ”

All his shirts blend together. He can't concentrate.

“Do you think I don't want it? Because I do, fuck, I need it. So bad, baby, please.” Your body heaves with a half sob.

Heart splintering, he turns. Finally, you meet his eye. You spread your legs.

“ Here. Right here .” You tap your clothed cunt with shaky fingers, pulling your thong to the side. His eyes drink it up, the way you glisten when your cunt eats up the fabric. You know he's watching, and you take advantage of it, circling your clit with the pads of two fingers. “Like this . When I touch myself, I think of you… d-did you know that?”

Swallowing roughly, he can't take his eyes off of you.

“What… What else?” He croaks.

“I think of your tongue, a-at my pussy. And your fingers… God. ” You slip a finger in, and he watches as your cunt clenches around it; gushing and sloppy. “Your l-lips. Meant it, before. When I said you were pretty. Want to sit on that pretty face and watch you melt– oh-h- fuck- ”

He wants to lick it up, all that slick that sluices from your hole. His mouth waters, just thinking about it.

“Put another one in, for me.” He says it low, sinking to his knees to watch you fuck yourself.

Nodding, you oblige.

“Does it feel good?”

“ Yes. ” You don't hesitate.

“Can you fit another one? Want to see how good she looks when she comes, sweetheart.”

Three fingers in, now, and he slides your thong a little further aside; reaching up to press his thumb to your clit. Light streams in from blinds cracked open and highlights your thighs perfectly. Nevertheless, he adjusts his glasses to make sure he doesn't miss anything.

The twitch of your leg, the way your hand cramps up, the way your lips curl into a delicious O - he sees it all, commits it to memory.

“ Faster , please.”

“ Doesn't –” You're frustrated, clearly chasing something that refuses to surface. “Not the same. Can't fucking reach. ”

He titters, nipping at your thighs and soothing the bites with the flat of his tongue.

“Poor baby. Will you let me help?”

Fervently, you nod, slipping out your fingers as he takes off his glasses. They're discarded, too foggy to be useful right now.

“Did I tell you to take them out?” He sighs and gestures for your hand. Wrapping his lips around them he sucks them clean, humming lightly. He pats your clit with a wet slap, content. “Put two fingers in, sweetheart.”

Doing as he says, your head feels full - cotton wool and bubble wrap, only able to focus on the pleasure building behind your clit. And when he slots two fingers in next to yours , it rips out a gravelly moan.

“ Here? ” He says dragging himself deeper, curling his fingers up. “Or is it… here? ”

You groan, limp against his hand as you feel impossibly full. It reminds you of the stretch of his cock; creaming around the base of his two fingers and yours. That wonderful curl as he pumps himself in and out, cupping your hand in the process to make sure you match his pace. He can feel your walls spasm around him, impossibly soft and velveteen.

“Can't say no to you,” His eyes are low, grunting as he palms himself roughly. “Even though… fuck … even though I should.”

It's wet, the slap slap slap of skin against skin echoing in his room. Miguel sits up, pressing his lips to your neck, and you take the opportunity to slip your other hand into his sweats. You start pumping, in time with his ministrations, eyes blown as you swipe your thumb over his weeping slit.

You know he likes it rough, and you jerk him into your palm; fast and hard and you watch as he matches your pace. Even now, you're competing, trying to catch the him up; to see who can make the other cum first.

You push back on his fingers, hips slotting against his, whispering nonsense into his neck. You're too fucked out to care; confessions you never thought would see the light of day. All the little things you like about him, things he says, things he does; and you don't even register the ochred flush smattered along the ridge of cheekbone.

He spills into your hand, and you're quick to follow; cumming around him as his fingers stutter in and out. It feels good , dangerously so, and has you pressing shaky kisses around his mouth, and nipping at his bottom lip.

He stills, but you're greedy, aching for more. You want him in you; seating his thick cock deep inside, painting your walls with hot cum, and pushing it back in with deft fingers. Every part of you is on fire, barely satiated by your heated foray.

You tip back onto the bed, and he joins you; caging you in with thick forearms, looking at you like you've stolen all the stars in the sky. That feeling , again, slams into your chest like a bullet. Messy hair, ruddy cheeks, hand gently tracing your jaw; he looks gone, and oh so soft. You want to kiss him ; and it's a thought that sticks, embedding itself somewhere you can't reach to dig it out.

“ Miguel .” You whisper, enough alcohol at the edges of your mind to stop thinking and spill your guts to him, unfiltered. “Are you sleeping with someone else?”

His eyes flit over your face before answering and he shakes his head.

“No. No. Just you. Only you.”

“ Don't believe you .” But you want to. So, so desperately. “Promise me?”

“I promise, sweetheart.” He swallows. “Are you?”

“No. Don't think I could if I tried.” It comes out watery, stuck at the back of your throat.

He just looks, for a moment, cradling the back of your head.

“I want to kiss you.” It spills out from your lips.

“I know.”

“Then why won't you kiss me?”

“Not a good idea.” He strains, kissing your forehead, and then each cheek. Hesitating, he places a gentle peck to your chin. “Ask me tomorrow.”

He says it simply, too easily; and it makes you want to sob. When Miguel slips away, and you hear the sound of a light turned on in the bathroom, you can't move. Catatonic; you blink, and he's cleaned you up, and slipped a shirt over your shoulders. Laying back in his bed, you watch as he lingers by the doorway, shrouded in shadow.

Goodnight. Y ou think you say it out loud, but it echoes in your head.

He says back, but not really. Instead, he leaves that goodnight hanging by the doorway like an old coat, and you wrap it over your shoulders.

It keeps you a little warmer through the night.

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

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#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #rigor mortis 😼#miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #kat_writes😼#spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #angst #heavy angst #mutual pining

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fangweaver2099 · 5 months ago

Text

𝐅 𝐀 𝐖 𝐍 𝐓 𝐄 𝐄 𝐓 𝐇 - Prologue pt 2

MINORS DNI 18+ FIC

You’ve always liked the idea of having a dominant partner - BDSM was something you’ve read about, watched videos about.

Something you made Pinterest boards and aesthetic tumblr posts about when you were 18 and curious, the idea always sounded nice, but you’ve never done it in practice, not really. Sure you bought fuzzy handcuffs at a gag gift store once, but that didn’t really count.

You’re still a virgin.

You’ve always had that chronically awkward, workaholic type of vibe that made typical dating near impossible at worst and frustrating at best. Normal dating apps have proven fruitless and agitating. So poor curious little you talked yourself into making a fetlife account. You weren’t looking for true love, but at least you could get laid.

DM Request from: 10:13 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hello, Fawn.”

College was for new experiences after all.

CW: BDSM heavy/centric fic. Safe, Sane & Consensual. Miguel is your professor, but you both don't know that. Age Gap (Y/N is 23, Miguel is mid 30's)

TAG: @slut4oscarissac23

PART 1 - PART 3

It’s been a week since you met Web. You’ve gotten into the routine he provided after you confirmed he expected you to start instantly. Thankfully, your summer job is walkable and makes the whole hour of exercise he’d demanded - so it isn’t much of a change in routine.

He isn’t pleased that your idea of meals is usually whatever frozen nuggets you have in the fridge or whatever you and your roommates decide to swing by to, but there’s only so much you can do on a college budget, and he begrudgingly accepts that fact after some discussion.

You wake with a groan, still entangled in your gray duvet. You had opted for a daybed for your tiny room and it means you often sleep with your nose touching the wall and your limbs curled close to you, fetal position.

For a long moment, you consider heading back to bed. Your hands search down your body and across your bed for the phone. You pull the damn thing out from under your hip and flip it over in your hand.

Web asks you to download something called ‘Telegram’ - it doesn’t log pictures or anything for that matter, according to him. You find you even have a few contacts saved that used it. You discover your cousin is a furry, but you aren’t going to tell him that.

Web’s icon is what you’d expect, really - a red web. His number is fake - surprising to exactly nobody. He was clearly more tech savvy than you. When you had visualized an ideal dominant - Web checked too many boxes. At first you considered ghosting him, anxiety ate you up.

But you also crave his attention - maybe you’re more lonely than you thought. You find yourself waiting for his messages and bouncing at the attention. You’ve developed a habit of staying up too late waiting to see if he’ll pop back online again.

So you click open your phone, ignoring Facebook, Instagram, whatever, and click open the small blue icon to Telegram.

9:13 AM - WebRigger2099 - “Good Morning.”

“ I slept in… Sorry. Just saw this. Morning. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:15 PM

1:19 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Slept in until 1pm? Up late?”

“ Roommates were loud, so I watched netflix. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:19 PM

1:19 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Maybe when summer is over you’ll be able to get proper sleep at my place.”

“ That sounds nice. We’ll have to see. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:19 PM

1:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I can set up a dog bed at the foot of mine. I’d make sure you were comfortable, but you’d have to wake me to go to the bathroom. The leash would keep you bound to bed.”

“ And here I thought we’d snuggle. :p ” - Fawnteeth - 1:20 PM

1:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Yes, but you have to earn the bed for sleeping at night. Incentives keep you from growing complacent.”

“ You really do know what you’re doing. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:21 PM

“ Any free time today? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:21 PM

1:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I work from home during the summer and practically make my own hours. It’s a quiet day.”

“ Can I ask what you do? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:21 PM

1:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Yes, but I won’t answer.”

“ Mysterious. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:22 PM

1:22 PM - WebRigger2099 - “If you guess correct you might earn a treat, pup.”

“ How many tries do I get? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:22 PM

1:22 PM - WebRigger2099 - “We’ll say three.”

“ Banker? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:22 PM

1:22 PM - WebRigger2099 - “No. Every time you get it incorrect, you’ll answer a question of mine, how’s that sound?”

“ That's not very fair. :c ” - Fawnteeth - 1:23 PM

1:23 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I never said it would be.”

“ Fine. Ask away. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:23 PM

1:23 PM - WebRigger2099 - “When was the last time you touched yourself, Fawn?”

“ Oh. These kind of questions. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:23 PM

1:23 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Is that a complaint I hear?”

“ No. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:23 PM

1:23 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Well?”

“ The night after we spoke the first time. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:23 PM

1:23 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. Excited you, did I?”

“ Yes, sir. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM

1:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. You remembered the rule. No ‘maybe’s, only ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

“ I’m trying my best. It’s not like it’s fun being a brat at the start. I gotta learn your buttons. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM

1:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You must be a glutton for punishment. Did you see the cane marks I left on some of the girls in my photo album?”

“ I did. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM

1:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Did it excite you, Fawn?”

You huff, rolling onto your other side on the bed.

“ ...Yes. When do I get to guess again? >:c ”��- Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM

1:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I never said you couldn’t. You’re just answering free questions.”

“ Mean. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM

1:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Exceptionally. You have to earn ‘nice’.”

“ I don’t know why I find you so charming. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM

“ Librarian? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM

1:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Wrong. And many submissives find comfort in pain and punishment.”

“ you seem like the librarian type. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:25 PM

1:25 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Because you think I’d spank you with a ruler if you made too much noise?”

“ I don’t think a ruler would hurt very much. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:25 PM

1:25 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You haven’t had one break on your skin then. I’ve left bruises with them before.”

“ I sure haven’t. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:25 PM

1:25 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’ll have to bring one someday, then. And a crop. Anything else you’d like me to mark you with?”

“ Let me think about it. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:25 PM

“ Personal trainer? You have the body for it. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:25 PM

1:25 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Isn’t that what I’m doing to you? It doesn’t pay very well, but I don’t have any complaints about the benefits so far.”

“ I mean. I guess? You haven’t asked me to work out, plus I hear the right clients means you could make bank. So you are a personal trainer? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:26 PM

1:26 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I did tell you to exercise an hour a day. Did you forget?”

“ Not completely. I walk. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:26 PM

1:26 PM - WebRigger2099 - “No, I’m not a personal trainer. Ready for my last two questions?”

“ Yes. :c I thought I was right… ” - Fawnteeth - 1:26 PM

1:26 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Afraid not.”

1:26 PM - WebRigger2099 - “When you masturbated the night we first spoke, what did you imagine?”

“ A bit of what you could look like. Putting myself into one of your photos. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:27 PM

1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Do you like the idea of me showing you off for everyone to see? Your face covered of course, like the rest.”

“ I sure don’t mind the idea. Do most girls say no? I see you haven’t taken any photos in like 7 years. ” - Fawnteeth - 11:27 PM

1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’ve been busy. Started again recently.”

“ Ohhh. I see. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:27 PM

1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Would you like to practice?”

“ Practice? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:27 PM

1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Posing for my photos.”

“ Can I see you too? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:27 PM

1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Fair is fair.”

“ Your profile pic leaves most to the imagination. Well. Below the belt, I guess. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:27 PM

1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That’s what you want to see, is it? You’ll need to earn it.”

“ Call me curious. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:27 PM

1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’ll need to follow my instructions for posing, Fawn. Listening?”

“ Yes. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:28 PM

1:28 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’ll take a picture of every step to prove you’re following along. Understood?”

“ Okay. Let me lock my door. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:28 PM

You need a gameplan. Checking for your roommates, you pop your head out of your door, listening hard. You can hear your roommate Kore’s music - some pop medley that she’s sewing to. Good.

You don’t hear anyone else, so everybody else must be out. You… try not to think about what Taylor or Aurora could be up to.

Sticking your head back in, you close the door. moving to click the lock shut. You check the door, only for it to open with the slightest tug. Glancing at the lock, you frown, flicking it on and off to see no little ‘lock’ mechanism come out.

Shit… You fucking hate your landlord.

You glance around your room - you are not doing this with your door unlocked. You grew up with half a dozen siblings and strict parents - you know how to improvise. Grabbing the circular chair piled with clothes, you push it to the door and force the metal under your door knob. Hands on your hips, you nod at the handiwork.

Good enough.

Snatching up your phone, you frown, kicking away most of your discarded clothes and random papers.You really need to clean your room, but you decide you’d do it later.

Right now, you have other priorities.

Said priority seems to know just when you sit down, the telegram notification lighting up your screen as if you’ve summoned him by pure thought alone. Think of the devil…

1:46 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Having trouble?”

“ No. All good now. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:46 PM

1:46 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Get a marker.”

You frown, then glance at your backpack. You trot over and search through it, tossing a few pens and your pencil case in frustration.

In the end you find a single purple sharpie.

You click open your phone.

“ Does the color matter? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:46 PM

1:46 PM - WebRigger2099 - “No. It just needs to be visible on your skin.”

“ Kay. Got it then. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:46 PM

1:46 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Take your clothes off. Bra and panties can stay on.”

You glance up at your phone and stare at yourself in the mirror.

Your hair is a bit of a mess - that’s fine.

You glance at your sleep shirt, it’s old and the hem is frayed on the sleeves, the little bunny screen printed onto it is mostly faded. You knew you weren’t wearing a bra, so you glanced around your room till you spotted one laying limply on the floor. Tossing off your top and discarding it wherever it landed.

Pulling the bra on, you take a deep breath, glancing at yourself again in the mirror. You feel yourself hesitating. You’ve taken nudes before, what about this makes it different?

Web makes it different. Him telling you to take these for him makes it different. You slip off your shorts and realize you’re wet. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Still, your phone is in your hand again, you flick it open and type away.

“Kay.” - Fawnteeth - 1:50 PM

1:50 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Where is my proof, Fawn? I told you to take pictures. Are you trying to get punished?”

You bite your lip.

“ No. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:50 PM

You need your face mask - the one you wore in all your photos is easy to find. You wrap the thing around your nose and mouth. You know you’re going to crop out your face anyway, but it makes you feel better.

Like you’re pretending to be someone else. You supposed you aren’t you anymore - you’re Fawn. Fawn doesn’t struggle with nudes. Fawn takes great nudes.

You glance at yourself in the mirror. You end up trying a few poses, trying to not put emphasis on your long legs or stomach rolls. You settle on your knees - back slightly arched, one hand splayed on your thigh. Not too lewd.

You snap the photo, shifting your body a bit as you take another. The routine continues a few more times before you pause to look at the photos.

You decide the second one is the best. You move to crop as much of the background out as you can, including your face. Wisps of your hair remain around your neck but that’s fine. Whatever. Good enough.

You hesitate for a moment, finger lingering on the send button.

What if he doesn’t like it? What if he decides he doesn’t like you? You cringe at the thought. You send the photo and close your phone instantly.

[photo] - Fawnteeth - 1:55 PM

You hear it ping and slowly click the screen back on.

1:52 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. Has anyone told you you’re beautiful today, Fawn?”

You blush.

“ Now someone has. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:52 PM

1:52 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Write it on yourself. We wouldn’t want you to forget if I’m busy and can’t tell you tomorrow morning.”

“ Okay. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:55 PM

You take a deep breath, grabbing the purple sharpie from beside your knee. Biting down on the cap, you frown, glancing over the expanse of skin thoughtfully.

How the hell do you write backwards…. You’ll flip the image before you send it.

It’s embarrassing how long you pause, you stare at the pen and your skin. You come to the sad realization this is the first time a man has called you beautiful like… ever.

You’re smart enough to realize he’s trying to build you up. God, he knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?

You settle with scribbling the world carefully onto your right thigh. You don’t use the mirror for the photo this time, taking it directly.

[photo] - Fawnteeth - 1:55 PM

1:55 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Again.”

You consider asking him where. After considering for a moment, you scribble ‘beautiful’ on your other thigh. It’s not huge and written towards your knee, but it’s readable.

[photo] - Fawnteeth - 1:56 PM

1:56 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Keep going.”

You wonder where - not your thighs again you decide. After some effort you manage to scribble it carefully above your panty waistband, crawling from your hip and across your stomach.

This time you have to use the mirror. You settle back into that kneeling pose and take a few shots.

You pick the favorite, flipping it so the text can actually be read. You crop it again, cutting off your shoulders and part of your arm.

[photo] - Fawnteeth - 1:57 PM

1:57 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good. That’s enough.”

“ Here I expected something lewd. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:57 PM

1:57 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Now pull your panties to the side and show me your pussy.”

Your cunt throbs, making your thighs snap together. He isn’t even talking, it it’s words on a fucking screen . It’s unfair how effortlessly arousing Web is.

You could say no. You don’t think he’d be upset if you said no. He had spoken a dozen times over about consent in the past week, reaffirming to you that if you thought it was too much that you were welcome to say so. All it took was you typing yellow or red.

You don’t.

“ Mkay. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:58 PM

You end up sitting back on your ass, legs apart. You see the dark mark on your panties in between your legs. You almost shutter pulling the cloth aside. You feel your slickness on your fingers and wipe it away with your inner thigh.

You see yourself through your phone, legs spread and the hints of the words written on your thighs make you freeze.

You settle with closing your eyes to take the picture. You don’t crop it this time - but your face is still missing from the shot regardless. Just a hint of the black cloth over your chin. Your face is warm both from your cheeks and your breath now.

You click send and wait patiently for his reply.

[photo] - Fawnteeth - 1:58 PM

It comes instantly.

1:58 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Now shove the marker inside.”

Your eyes widen.

1:58 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Take a picture so I can see all the writing and the marker inside you.”

You grab the top of the marker and cap it, flipping it in your fingers.

“ I’ll try. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:59 PM

The marker is cold. You cringe as you press it against your overheated pussy, flinching as you run it along your opening. After a deep breath you slip it into your opening. You couldn’t exactly feel it - it was more like your fingers.

You’ve never bought a toy, knowing your roommates would rip the package open to see what you ordered, nosy as they are, and it’s not like you could order it to your childhood home. There are some things even you know better than to do.

Slowly, you kneel again, your hips up in the air as you see the small white and purple thing in between your thighs.

The last time you took a nude was before college. You chickened out of sending it to your boyfriend at the time. Now you’re just thankful you never got to second base with him.

You take the picture, eyes closed again. Like that somehow made what you were doing more modest and less slutty.

Is it slutty? It’s not like you’re sending it to anyone but Web. But also… who is Web?

[photo] - Fawnteeth - 2:02 PM

2:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ Good girl. I’m posting this as an album on my page for everyone to see. I’ll blur the background for your privacy, and you already have your mask on.”

“ I thought this was supposed to be practice? :’c ” - Fawnteeth - 2:03 PM

You slip the marker from yourself and put your panties back on correctly. You cringe at the cold wetness.

2:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I find it best to practice by doing.”

“ I guess that makes sense. It’s the first time I’ve sent that to anyone on here. Can you keep the one with my crotch in it private? ” - Fawnteeth - 2:03 PM

2:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You did good. Lighting and the perfect background are nice, but it's not realistic. Not everyone has perfectly angled windows and lamps to make shots. This is raw. Vulnerable. And yes, I can keep those two private.”

“ Thanks. My room is kinda a mess… You’re nice, Web. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:03 PM

2:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Just respectful, and not that much. You have low bars, Fawn. Careful someone doesn’t take advantage of them.”

“ You haven’t. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:03 PM

2:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You just shoved a marker up your cunt for me without even questioning it.”

“ I think you’d be fine if I had said no. When do I get to see it? ” - Fawnteeth - 2:04 PM

2:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I suppose you earned it.”

His hands are huge, his chest is broad and clearly the same guy in the photo… and…

Your eyes widen at his dick. The sweatpants bulge in his profile pic is a fucking beast. You had asked him how long it was before, shyly, and he said eight inches. Sheepishly, you told yourself you’d fetch a ruler to see what that would be like in person.

You’d been too nervous to follow through.

He’s wide, too, his log-like member swollen with arousal. The dark brown skin fades to a milder tan as your eyes finally leave his bulge, trailing up the muscular torso. You swear you see a bead of sweat running down his abs, but you realize that it's yours .

You’re sweating, forehead moist, wiping away the rest with a glide of the back of your hand.

Like all the pictures he had of himself in his gallery, the picture cuts off at the beginning of his neck. This one also cuts off near the knees at the bottom.

“ Jesus christ. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:07 PM

“ Did I do that?. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:07 PM

2:07 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Would you be proud of yourself if you did?”

“ I’d feel special. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:07 PM

2:08 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’re special, Fawn. Do you know what I would do if you were in front of me right now?”

You sink on your thighs as his words. ‘You’re special’ makes you almost tear up. You’re absolutely charmed by him.

Slowly, you lay on the floor, hovering your phone above your face. It’s hard not to grin, chewing your lip red as you think over your reply.

“ No, can you tell me? ” - Fawnteeth - 2:08 PM

You feel accomplished at that. You’re being so smooth and cool.

You wait patiently, crossing your legs and bouncing one of them in the air.

He doesn’t reply. You feel sweat gathering at the back of your neck. You move from lounging casually to sat cross legged before your mirror. You debate sending another message.

You do not send another message - that would make you look desperate, and you are definitely not desperate. That has to be a massive turnoff anyways - after all, he knows what he’s doing, he’s incredibly attractive and hung. He’s probably so sure of himself. Pestering him would just annoy him.

It isn’t even five minutes you wait before you decide to do anything but stare at your phone. You change into loose pajama pants and toss your shamefully wet panties into the laundry hamper.

You’re halfway through cleaning your room when you hear it.

Your phone pings and, embarrassingly, you drop the bra you were holding to rush for your bed. Feeling like a kid on christmas, your fingers shake as you punch in your passcode and pull up the notification.

2:15 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’m sorry. I have to go for a few hours.”

Your stomach sinks. You think you might be sick.

“ Oh. Okay. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:15 PM

2:15 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I can message you again tonight after 8.”

“ I’ll hold you to that. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:15 PM

Okay. It isn’t your fault, right? Something’s very clearly up with his life.

Frowning, you force yourself take a deep breath to calm yourself.

You investigate his picture, his bedroom is neat and simple. It’s clearly not a hotel room - it’s got some personal cozy touches and you can see some brick outside the window behind his shoulder. The sheets are messy and the blankets are mismatched. He’s probably just some normal guy, maybe he works in an office and just likes his body.

And… bondage.

Y’know - average weird secret pervert things. Hopefully he isn’t married . You didn’t see a ring on either of his hands or even an indent from one he might have taken off for the photos.

Your eyes eventually drift to the marker discarded on your floor, the end still slick. If he was some kind of weird pervert, what does that just make you?

You look down at your stomach and the small ‘beautiful’ written carefully on it. You need to take a shower and get this off.

You sneak through the house with a change of clothes and your nice shampoo you don’t share with anyone. Your house has one bathroom with a half decent shower, technically being a 2 ½ bath house.

You don’t like the other bathroom that Kore and Babette mostly use. It only has a bathtub - the shower head doesn’t work.

You hop in the shower and are horrified at your discovery. It’s not coming off. The writing doesn’t come off with the dove soap or Aurora’s washing puff. Not even scratching it with your nails does anything but vaguely fade it.

Great.

You try your best to not freak out. You’ll dress like it’s winter until you can wash it off your skin. You should have asked Web if you should use a sharpie.

You wash your hair and dry off the best you can. Thankfully, your loose shorts and loose t-shirt hide the marks as long as you don't let the shorts ride up your thighs too much.

You return to your room and move your chair back into its place. You don’t have work today and you can hear the movement that told you one of your roomies had just gotten home.

Your stomach growls.

You’re hungry - three meals, you remind yourself, Web always somewhere close to the front of your mind. Technically this would your first meal, you did just wake up and… fuck. Anxiously, you tug down your pajama shorts. Lesson learned, that shit doesn’t come off in the shower. You make a note to ask Web for a marker to get that does wash off.

You find yourself questioning why some random faceless man on the internet is the motivation you have to take care of yourself. Shaking away the thought, you explore the tiny freezer stuffed with mostly frozen chicken nuggets. You frown, debating ordering takeout again. You settle on boiling noodles and smothering them in pesto and salt.

You head out to the living room - the room is eternally cluttered like the rest of your college house. The ceiling light doesn’t work, so you and your roomies had hung fairy lights everywhere. The drapes are pulled back to let light in - the lesbian flag with markiplier’s face on it in full display to the whole neighborhood. Four couches meant you had plenty of space to sit, falling in the far corner from the only other person in the room - Aurora.

The bubbly blonde is chomping away at her food, phone propped up on the stained coffee table as some sort of video plays. You eat while listening to something about a person named ‘illuminaughty’.

Aurora looked up from her bowl of fruit loops from the couch, she smiled through a mouthful, cheeks as stuffed as a chipmunk. "Mornin'!" she grinned, never one for table manners.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her arm, "You slept in late."

Her eyes looked you up and down, a perfectly tweezed eyebrow raising to look at your leg. "Were you drawing on yourself?"

You looked down, a purple "L" in sharpie just barely poking out of your shorts. You feel a chill go down your spine. You are fucking mortified.

"Uh...yeah," you say quickly, your brain scrambling for a moment to make up some lie. You couldn't just confess that you'd written on yourself and shoved the marker up your pussy just because a man you didn't even know the name of told you too. "Got bored last night, y'know."

Aurora shrugs, thankfully dropping the subject as she turns her attention back to her bowl of sugar cereal.

You promptly get, desperately pretending that she didn’t notice your sexy leg writing, and power walk to your bedroom. It takes effort to not slam the door.

You stay in your room for the rest of the day because you sure as fuck aren’t hanging around your roomies now. Aurora would question you again - it’s Aurora, and you can’t exactly explain away wearing long pants in June.

So you break out your laptop and watch Delicious in Dungeon. You always have a habit of marathoning random shows on Netflix and it passes the time better than staring at the wall, waiting for Web to message you.

You got popcorn as a snack, maybe you’d eat weird monster food too. Senshi does make it look delicious. You chuckle, realizing the name matches.

Hours passed and the sun is barely setting before you consider taking a nap.

8:00 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hello Fawn.”

You sit up and snatch your phone up at the ping.

“ Hey. Everything good? ” - Fawnteeth - 8:00 PM

8:00 PM - WebRigger2099 - “It’s fine, just a sudden schedule change. Things moved up quicker than I expected, but I should be done for the night.”

“ Okay. Well… You never answered my question, Web. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:01 PM

“ Also. How do I get sharpie off my skin. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:01 PM

8:01 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Oh Fawn…”

“ I thought I could scrub it off, if I’m honest. I figured… you.. might… know… ” - Fawnteeth - 8:02 PM

8:02 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I do, but maybe I should let you keep it on until it fades normally. A lesson to be more careful. Better this than something more serious.”

“ I should have figured as much. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:02 PM

8:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’m just glad you didn’t shove it deeper. You can’t put things inside without a flare, it’ll get stuck. I didn’t realize I needed to explain things like that to you, but I know better now.”

“ I know that. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:03 PM

8:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “But not that permanent markers are hard to remove.”

“ Yes. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:03 PM

8:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Fawn you are delightfully foolish.”

“ I’m glad you enjoy my suffering. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:03 PM

8:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I enjoy your happiness too.”

“ You’re good with words. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:03 PM

8:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Better with my hands, but you’ll learn that later.”

“ I’ll make sure to keep that in mind. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:04 PM

“ Well. Now that I’ve made myself a fool, I hope I haven’t turned you off. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:04 PM

8:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hardly. I believe we left off before at ‘what I would do to you if I was there’.”

“ Thank you for mentioning it so.. I didn’t have to bring it up again. I’m still quite curious. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:04 PM

8:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You remember the picture I sent you?” ��

“ I do. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:04 PM

8:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I want you to order something. I’ll pay, naturally, but I figure it would be more comfortable if I didn’t know your address so quickly.”

“ Yeah. I think that would take some time. A toy? ” - Fawnteeth - 8:04 PM

8:05 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I have a list. Run away with the money and you won’t hear my answer.”

“ I won’t. But are you sure you want to invest anything in me yet? ” - Fawnteeth - 8:05 PM

8:05 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’ve invested at least 3 days in me with that marker.”

“ True enough. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:05 PM

8:06 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’m comfortable financially. This isn’t the hit it might be for a girl your age. You’ve earned some nice things.”

“ Oh. I see. Thank you. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:06 PM

8:06 PM - WebRigger2099 - “No using them without my permission, understood?”

“ Understood, sir. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:06 PM

He sends you the link to an adult website. Your cheeks flush as your screen is filled with all sorts of sex toys and other lewd imagery. Your eyes flicker to your door for a moment, anxiety simmering low in your belly as the thought of someone walking into your room and seeing what you were looking at flashes through your mind. You bite your lip, feeling like a nervous teenager under your father’s roof once again.

You notice that the cart has been pre filled with a number of items: A 6 inch silicone dildo; a Lovense egg vibrator; nipple clamps; a rabbit vibrator; a bottle of water-based lube; and a set of black lingerie that matches your face mask.

Your eyes linger on the cart total. That’s more than your paycheck .

“ You sure? ” - Fawnteeth - 8:09 PM

8:09 PM - WebRigger2099 - “If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have sent you the link. There is a gift card code: HGJ-8734-KHW. It’ll cover the expenses and leave a little extra for you to browse and select one or two items that catch your interest.”

“ Okay. Thank you. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:09 PM

8:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’re welcome, Fawn. I take care of my pets.”

#miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #into the spider verse #miguel o'hara smut

168 notes · View notes

godisshook · 11 months ago

Note

I’ve had a crush on my roommate since we met in the summer, and I thought he liked me too, but he said we couldn’t when I finally got up the nerve to ask him out before break. He said he had to do something first, and left for break. I was so sad, but then on new years he texted me his resolution had been to become a “real man” for me this year… any idea what I should expect now that break is done?

A Real Man

You hoped that winter break would be a nice break from the weight of your confession to your roommate, Sean, but it was all you could think about. Had you made a mistake? Did you miss the signal?

You had talked with Sean occasionally, but not as much as on New Year's. While you didn't believe in all the superstitions around it, you still silently made a wish for the new year; making Sean yours. As the new year rolled in, you celebrated alone, hoping your wish would come true.

Fortunately, the wait wouldn't be long. Just a few minutes past midnight, you get a text on your phone from an unlikely source, Sean. Soon, the two of you were in full conversation. With plans for the new year being discussed, he drops a bomb. “Just letting you know, my resolution is to be a real man for you this year," he texted.

Intrigue came over you as you continued to text back and forth with him. As the conversation died down, he sent a final message that stopped you in your tracks. "Hope to see you soon, until then, hope these can hold you over." He sent the message with two attached photos, and as you scrolled up to see them, your jaw dropped.

The photo leaves you breathless, as you lay witness to just what he meant. He was huge, practically unrecognizable. Drooling over the pictures, to rushed to reply, "I hope to see you soon!" You winced at the exclamation mark in your text, hoping you weren't coming off too thirsty, but dirty thoughts were buzzing throughout your mind.

With winter break drawing to its close, you decided to leave early for campus, packing your bags and booking your flight. While you mainly wanted the extra time to pack, being able to see Sean too wouldn't hurt at all. You scheduled an Uber before getting on your flight, not wanting to bother anyone for a ride on campus. With goodbye texts sent, you got on the plane and dozed off as you got in the air.

As your plane begins its descent, you come to. You start to check for any missed texts, when you're met with one that catches your eye.

"I'll come get you from the airport."

Sean attached two photos of him and simply replied, "I'm ready." You trembled at the certainty of his response, even through text, and braced yourself for the car ride home.

As he put your suitcases in the car, his muscles bulged through his tank top, making your heart flutter. "Thank you so much," you said as you put your duffel bag in his car. "This is the treatment you deserve," he said as he laid a kiss on your forehead. You blushed, not used to this level of chivalry. The two of you recapped your winter breaks on the ride back, with giggling and somber moments included.

He brought your luggage inside, and you were entirely confused as to the sudden change in character. With the last of your bags inside, you demanded an explanation. The two of you sat down as he began to explain. "I know it sounds crazy, but I knew I wasn't right for you back when you first asked," he said. He continued, "That was my wake-up call, and so I had to get things right so I could live up to my promise." His expression darkened as he got closer, now standing above you. "I want to show you just how ready I am if you let me." Your reply was breathy, as your voice began to tremble under his dominance. "I want you, Sean." His response came in a dark tone:

"Kneel."

Your body responded before your mind could, as you kneeled on the floor, grasping onto his massive hands. He pulled down his pants, and his cock rose up in an instant. Looking over his huge dick, you wondered how you were going to suck it. Hoping to not have that question answered, you began giving him a handjob, your hands made minuscule against his massive cock.

But it was clear that wasn't enough. Sean looked down and moved your hands off his dick. His rock-hard cock was once more in your face, and you knew what was coming next.

Opening your mouth wide, he slid his cock inside your mouth. As he filled you up, you were forced to breathe from your nose, as his cock went further and further down your throat. Sean threw his head back in pleasure and began slowly sliding his cock out, immediately leaving you wanting more. In an instant, his hand was now gripping your head, as thrust his cock in and out of your mouth.

Cum had filled every part of your throat, and your face was a mess. He had asserted himself. His softer side revealed itself as he helped clean you up, picking you up and taking you to the shower, where he finally fucked you, his cock filling you like a key in a lock. It was bliss. As hot water made the heat inside you burn even hotter, you couldn't help yourself from coming, and Sean, noticing your release, sped up his thrusts to catch up to you.

The both of you finished your shower, even messier than when you entered. You both slept in Sean's room that night, as you cuddled deep into him. Sean had shown exactly what he meant, and you were overjoyed. It was looking like a wonderful start to your semester, and you thanked your lucky stars that your wish came true.

#muscle #jock #roomates #alpha men #college guys

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melobin · 7 months ago

Text

behind the screen 𐙚 sungchan smau #29

✧ camgirl reader x roommate sungchan

✧ synopsis. in which sungchan discovers his favorite camgirl also happens to be his roommate

✧ wc. 635

✧ warnings. half written half smau. no warnings.

“i’m surprised you agreed to see me” sungchan shrugged as somi sat down in his office, her nails tapping against his desk.

“we might not see eye to eye but i’m not a dick somi”

“i know you’re not” she leaned back in the chair, lips turning into a small pout.

“so what did you need to talk about?” sungchan asked, partly wanting to get the conversation over and done with.

“i found something out and it upset me so i wanted to talk to you about it”

“what’s it about?”

“y/n”

“somi-“

“just listen, sungchan” sungchan closed his lips, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the girl. he couldn’t deny the fact he was curious about what she wanted. he nodded for her to continue talking

“i found out about something y/n has been secretly doing and it worried me because i know how close the two of you have become and i don’t want you to end up getting hurt”

“what are you talking about?” sungchan had an idea of what she was referring to but he wanted to hear her say it for herself, something about the situation intrigued him.

“a friend of mine sent me a link to this website and she was on it, when i looked a little deeper i realised it was some kind of self promoting porn website where people go on and do all kinds of things on live streams for people to watch” there was a hint of disgust in her voice but sungchan let her continue, wanting to know what would come next “there were photos and videos of her doing crude things, there was even a video with some other guy there, apparently they done a stream together not long ago. i thought it was appalling that she’d do something like that but then i remembered how close you two are and how badly it could hurt you if she continued to do this without you finding out”

“what makes you so sure it’s her?”

“i know her, i know her voice, i know what she looks like, plus my friend said he, they, know it’s her” sungchan sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the ceiling.

“i already knew”

“you what?” there was a tone of surprise in somi’s voice, sungchan couldn’t help but chuckle a little as he looked back at her.

“i found out a while back”

“and it doesn’t bother you?” sungchan shrugged.

“no? why should it?”

“because she’s obviously out there talking and flirting with all of these men to get money off of them. i know what these kind of girls are like sungchan. she’ll use you until she’s ran you dry then she’ll run off with the next poor guy”

“she’s not like that” somi laughed and stood up from her chair, shaking her head at his words.

“you’re blind, they’re all like that. she just wants your money and your attention and once she’s bored of it she’ll go to someone else, in fact she probably already has a few other guys on the string, i know she’s had jake there for a while”

“what do you know about jake?” she laughed again, a small smile growing on her lips.

“who do you think told me about her?”

“you’re sick”

“you’re blind”

“somi i think you should leave now” sungchan stood up, walking over to the door before stopping as she spoke again.

“i was about to, but i have something else to discuss with you” she let her fingers run over his shoulder as she walked past him “i think you’ll want to listen to this” she shut the door behind her as she walked out, within seconds sungchan’s phone made a noise indicated he received a message.

tag list. @midmourn @svnghan @strayhowls s @minnieslover r @shortnstupid @palchokitty y @ilovechanhee @hikict @wccycc @revehosh @teddywook @hoonieq @glaieuls @kvstjwonnie @starrypen @thinkabt-vivi @kyusqult @nanascupid @professsionalsimp @beomgri @xenkimmie @dinosluver @jaehmarks @hellonikitty @wolfiecaro @snoopyana @rosesfortaro @zhangyixingxing1 @hrts4tyun @forrds s @mamathefifth @wonbinkisser @alwayswook @boogyu @haohoonz @wheatrice e @cvpidxo @soobsfairy444 @nadrs @wonbinfiles @tsumusakusa @chichiuu @bbgmingyu @outrologist @lilriswife4life @https-yeonjun @emoseob b @riizenextdoor @h3lluh @shiannprincess101 @ioveslgn n @iselltulips s @w0nslvr @vernonburger @boopdidoo @planethyuka @joshuawifey @dearmyouth @bludzk1llzyuzu @andb1ue @reenfluffmarshmallow @jnkthy @luh @au-ghosttype

#✧ melody posts #✧ behind the screen #riize smut #riize smau #riize sungchan smau #sungchan smut #sungchan smau #riize sungchan smut

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peachhcs · 6 months ago

Text

mark to the rescue

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

samy isn't feeling it when hannah drags her out, so mark comes to save her from the frats

2.1k words

i always love writing the big brother relationship between samy and the umich boys, so here's her and mark after he picks her up when samy attempts to go out and talk to guys but realizes all of them are horrible

au masterlist

“come onnn, you haven’t come out with us in like..forever,” hannah frowned at samy where the girl sat on her bed trying to get her homework done. a small eye roll came from the soccer player.

“maybe because i’m trying to keep up with my work?” samy’s tone had a bit of attitude laced into it.

hannah’s noticed she’s become a bit more bitter ever since the breakup and knew to not take it personally. “okay, well you can take a break? it’ll be a fun break,” the girl tried again with a hopeful smile.

“i’m just not into it,” samy shrugged knowing she wouldn’t really have fun. she never had a lot of fun when going out unless she was somewhat wasted and there was no way she was drinking her weight with a game in two days.

“for an hour? please? for me if not yourself? maybe you’ll see a guy catch your eye or something,” hannah wiggled her eyebrows, but that only earned her another unimpressed eye roll.

she’s been on samy’s back a little about going out and talking to some guys since will clearly didn’t care anymore and neither of them had spoken for five months.

“again with the guys, huh?” samy raised her eyebrow.

“i just think it could be fun for you. try out your flirting. you never really had to do that with will because he was always just all over you,” immediately after hannah said that she realized she probably shouldn’t have.

samy’s gaze hardened a bit at the mention of will’s name.

“if i come out, will you shut up?”

hannah smiled, “yes. i knew i could convince you. come on, we need to get you ready.”

samy was dragged off the bed a moment later, her textbooks and notebooks long forgotten as the two girls dove into samy’s closet to find an outfit.

thirty minutes later, hannah and samy packed themselves into the full frat house. sweaty bodies knocked against one another along with drinks dropping to the floor as it sloshed out of people’s cups. the scene was chaotic and samy quickly regretted coming out.

“i’m gonna find a drink. want anything?” hannah yelled over the speakers.

“get me whatever,” samy responded. the girl nodded before disappearing into the crowd of bodies towards the kitchen.

samy perched herself in the corner where she hoped she could hide the whole night and not have to talk to anyone. her phone suddenly became really interesting as she swiped through her different apps awaiting hannah’s return.

“hey, samy, right?” the brunette’s head snapped up at the new voice.

when she saw the face a few feet away, she instantly recognized him. he was in her political theory class where the two bantered back and forth about differing opinions. samy managed a small smile.

“hi, yeah. that’s me. you’re..dylan, right?” the boy nodded when samy got his name right.

“yeah, that’s me. i’m always firing some opinions back at you in class,” dylan said and samy nodded.

“yeah, that’s right. those are fun,” the girl chuckled even though they were on opposite ends of the debate most of the times, samy enjoyed having someone to have civilized discussions with amd she knew they entertained the class.

“i didn’t really take you for much of a frat girl?” dylan hummed, leaning himself against the wall. the brunette shrugged some.

“i’m not, but my roommate dragged me out,” somewhere in the crowd was hannag getting them drinks and samy lowkey hoped she’d come back soon so she could exit this conversation.

it wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to dylan, samy knew what he wanted and why he was near her and that was just something the girl didn’t really want to partake in.

“how are you and your boyfriend? i never see you post about him anymore?” dylan asked casually, but that sentence alone nearly sent the girl spiraling. she forgot people would ask her about will because they were fairly public with their relationship.

“um, we broke up a few months ago actually,” samy swallowed, eyes on the ground.

“oh. i’m sorry, i had no idea. that sucks,” the taller boy quickly sympathized with her, but samy shook her head.

“don’t worry about it. it’s fine,” she gave a tight lipped smile that hopefully dylan would take the hint that she didn’t want to talk about it.

he seemed to not take that hint though, “you were out of his league anyway. i’m sure you can do a lot better than him.”

samy seriously hoped hannah was on her way back with those drinks. “yeah, it’s whatever. i’m getting over it,” the soccer player’s fingers brushed across her charm bracelet, subconsciously toying with the shark charm.

whether the youngest hughes wanted to acknowledge it or not, she played with that charm a lot whenever will was on her mind as if it would help her stop thinking about him even though he got her that charm.

“i bet your brother’s hockey friends are just lined up for you,” dylan seriously did not know when to stop talking.

luckily, hannah pushed her way back through the crowd with two cups in her hand. she beamed when she caught sight of her roommate talking to a guy.

“oh, perfect. i was waiting for you, hannah. mind showing me to the bathroom,” samy immediately cut in when the girl got close enough.

samy had eyes that said get me away from this man. hannah glanced between her and the guy before nodding, letting the soccer player drag her away before anything else could be said. as soon as the two were out of view, samy grabbed a cup and quickly chugged whatever was in it.

“jesus, slow down, hughes,” hannah laughed a bit.

“these fucking guys don’t know how to take a hint. have they always been this bad?” because will was always just there, samy never had to do much flirting with him to catch his attention. she hardly paid attention to the guys in the frats last year, so she never realized how horrible it was to talk to one of them.

“did something happen?” hannah grew concerned.

“just that dylan can’t take a hint when to stop talking. he literally thinks luke’s hockey friends are at my feet after knowing will broke up with me,” the idea made the brunette shudder even thinking about it.

“ew, gross. that would be a whole new low for you if you started dating one of them,” hannah shook her head.

“can i just leave? i’ll get mark or someone to pick me up. i know you’re trying to cheer me up, but i don’t think a frat is gonna make me smile,” samy frowned a bit.

hannah studied her roommate's expression and she knew this scene wasn’t for her. it never had been anyway. “okay, just text me when you’re back? i’m sorry this wasn’t fun.”

“it’s okay. i promise i’ll text,” the two girls exchanged tight hugs before samy started her way back to the door and searched for mark’s contact.

she knew ethan was studying for this big exam coming up and mark never did much except hang out with his girlfriend, so samy just hoped she wouldn’t interrupt things when she called. surprisingly, the older boy picked up on the second ring as soon as samy got outside.

“what’s up hughesy?” mark cheered.

“hey, i hate to ask but can you pick me up? i’m at this frat hannah dragged me out to and i just wasn’t feeling it. i’ll send my location,” the girl explained.

“yeah, sure. i’m on my way,” mark said.

“thanks, mark. i owe you,” the two hung up and samy made her perch outside while she waited for mark’s arrival.

ten minutes later, mark’s little honda civic pulled onto the side of the road. the boy reached over the seats to push samy’s door open for her. the girl smiled as she climbed in beside him.

“thanks again. i didn’t wanna bother ethan knowing he’s studying,” samy explained as she buckled in and mark pulled back onto the road.

“it’s not a problem. i was just playing video games with the other guys,” that made samy laugh because of how typical that sounded. those guys were always glued to their computers on call with one another.

“any chance you’re hungry? i could go for our usual,” mark glanced over at the girl with a smile.

anytime ethan or mark had to pick samy up late at night, they always stopped at their favorite pizza place on campus that became the spot the two boys took the girl out for lunch every other week to catch up with her like real annoying brothers would do.

“i could always go for pizza,” samy grinned back at the older boy.

they pulled into the parking lot a few moments later as the two eagerly hopped out to order their usuals—two slices of pepperoni for samy and two slices of cheese for mark. with it being almost 12 in the morning, the two got in and out and then found a table outside. they let the comfortable silence overtake them, savoring the first bites and people watching the very drunk college kids wandering around to different house parties.

“so bad night, or what?” mark wondered.

“not really..i just wasn’t feeling it i guess. this one guy tried talking me up and it got weird really fast,” samy shook her head.

“what’d he say?”

“well, first he said i was out of will’s league because i told him we broke up when he asked. then he said and i quote, “i’m sure luke’s hockey friends are lined up at your feet.”” mark quickly frowned when he heard that.

“what the fuck. who says that,” his eyebrows scrunched together in near disgust.

“i have no idea. i just had to get out of there. i forgot how awful guys are when they’re trying to flirt with you,” the younger girl shook her head again.

“i guess you have been out of the game for awhile so,” mark gently teased, but that made samy smile.

“apparently. i hate that i actually have to like deal with that if i wanna talk to guys now.”

“are you thinking about dating again?” mark asked.

“i feel like i can’t keep sitting around being sad, so maybe. i don’t know. probably nothing serious though. the dating scene doesn’t really appeal to me.”

“makes sense. i’d be the same way if i were you. i know you and will didn’t date for a long time, but that was some serious shit, so.. moving on isn’t that easy,” the older boy sympathized, which samy appreciated.

“right. i was his first time, so i’d say that’s pretty serious,” the girl mumbled, but mark made a face.

“ew, i didn’t need to know that part. but like actually?” his reaction made the brunette laugh.

“sorry, but yeah i was. surprised me too when he told me, but i don’t know. i kind of thought it was sweet,” samy hummed a bit, her finger going back to the shark charm.

“i know you’ve probably heard this a hundred times, but i really hope you guys can work it out. especially the friendship part. having a best friend like that is really special. i never really had a best friend like that until i came here and met ethan and luke and all the guys. even if the dating can’t happen again, i really hope you two can be friends again,” mark said softly which samy surprisingly didn’t hate hearing. she knew everyone who was saying this had a point and she, too, hoped that her and will could work something out. it was just a matter of who was gonna reach out to make it happen because they were both very stubborn.

“thanks, mark. i also hope we can be friends at some point again,” the two shared a smile.

they stayed for another ten minutes before deciding they should get back because it was late. when mark pulled into the parking lot to samy’s dorm, she reached out to give his arm a loving squeeze.

“thanks again. text me when you and ethan are up for our get together next week and i’ll see you at tomorrow's game.”

“yes, ma’am. have a good night,” they exchanged one last smile before samy climbed out and started her way back to the dorm feeling a lot better than she did when she left earlier.

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 3 months ago

Note

Hello!! I love your work n au sm I’ve been ADDICTED!! 💖💖

Could I possibly request a Kunikida x GN! Reader where the reader is deeply insecure about relationships and unknowingly fits his ideals ? Ie: hard worker, good w/ kids, stuff like that? Like reader is lamenting about how all their friends are in relationships but nobody seems to look at them in that way and Kunikida is like erm actually ☝️☝️

Thanku sm either way I love reading everything you write 😸😸

Ideal partner

Self-Aware! Kunikida Doppo x GN! Reader

Description: People said, that Kunikida's ideal partner don't Kunikida disagrees.

Warning: OOC. English is my second language. Reader are insecure.

_______

"It's... Something, Kunikida-san." Atsushi turned the page of Kunikida's notebook. Dazai, who has been looking at the notebook's pages above Atsushi's shoulder, huffed.

"You are quite a hard-worker, Kunikida-kun. Spending the whole night filling that thing."

John Steinbeck, who was carrying crates with supplies, that were collected by The Guild, walked past them. He gave them a side glance.

"Discussing something interesting, detectives?"

"Ideals" Dazai waved his hand. Steinbeck gave them a weird look and start walking again, mumbling 'our new roommates' under his breath.

Lifestyle in Yokohama was changing. However, something didn't change at all. And, something, was brought back to existence.

Like a familiar book of a certain blonde detective.

Kunikida Doppo didn't want to admit it, but, after making peace with being self-aware (and getting attached to you) he feels that something still was missing. Something small, but important.

His book of ideals was missing. Well, technically, the notebook itself still was with him. But it was empty. No ideals were written down.

Kunikida couldn't bare it anymore. So, he spent the whole"night" (or what was supposed to be night in the Real World, according to your phone's watch) writing down his new set of ideals.

It put him in a good mood. And, even after he got scolded by Fukuzawa ("Kunikida, I understand, that you want to work as hard as you can, and get to Guiding Light as fast as possible, but, please, mind the time. Otherwise, it will be a hassle, when we got to the Real World and had to get used to normal day/night cycle."), Kunikida's good mood didn't change.

"Your ideal partner criteria are still here and still something, Kunikida-kun. Are you sure, that you can find such person even in the Real World?" Dazai grinned teasingly. Kunikida rolled his eyes.

"Say whatever you want, Dazai, but my ideal partner do exist. And I will find them."

Dazai shrugged. His grin became even wider.

"We will see."

__________

"Well, I expect something like that, but not to that extent." Dazai mumbled, looking at Kunikida's "Ideal partner" list. Near each sentence was now a little plus symbol drawn.

Kunikida glared at Dazai.

"And what that supposed to mean?!"

Dazai quickly raised both of his hands.

"Nothing bad! Nothing bad! Just... I agree, that Iris Flower is great."

Great? You weren't just great! You were perfect. Kunikida could write a whole essay about how perfect you are.

You were a hardworking person. You do your job to the fullest. You always make sure, that everything is done perfectly.

You were great with children. You know, how to calm them down, what books and games offer them to pass the time. You even could make them do their homework without fussing.

You were kind, generous, smart. You have both inner and outer beauty.

You were perfect!

"... I am not surprised, that you want to have romantic relationship with them. But, I never expected that you would find all of your ideals in them. I did expect you to dismiss or change your ideals, so [Y/N] would fit them."

Dazai chuckled. A rare genuine smile appeared on his face.

"You managed to surprise me. I hope, that you will make [Y/N] happy. Just remember..."

Dazai's expression darkened. "If you break their heart..."

Kunikida glared at Dazai.

"How dare you think, that I will do something like that?! I will cherish them. We will have a loving courtship, before getting married."

Dazai visibly flinched.

"Kunikida-kun... For the love of everyone... Never let others, especially [Y/N], hear the words "loving courtship" ever again."

_______

That evening was one of the calm ones. Everyone were, mostly, minding their own business. Nikolai didn't annoy Fyodor. Dazai didn't annoy Chuuya and Kunikida. You were laying on a couch, mindlessly scrolling through the social media. Suddenly, your gaze catches a post from one of your co-worker, that you were friends with.

"Today is our anniversary! Look, what my sweetheart did for me 💝"

The post contains a photo of a table with home cooked breakfast on it. All dishes were decorated with paper hearts, a small vase with bouquet of flowers was standing in the middle of the table. A card with some lovey-dovey words was visible in the corner of the table.

You scrolled further.

As another nail in your good mood's coffin, the next post was from another one of your friend. That post was about getting into a new relationship.

You fight an urge to sign. Another one. Another one of your friends got in a relationship.

You weren't jealous. But you felt a little bit of hurt. Every time you heard about your friends' dates or partners, you felt, like you were the stereotypical forever single friend.

You went on dates before. But, there was never a second date. Your friends were getting into relationship. They looked happy. They weren't alone.

Meanwhile, you were alone. And, no matter how hard you try, you never managed to find a partner.

Perhaps, you weren't attractive enough to be viewed as someone's romantic partner.

"I am pretty sure, that your ex-partners have done more for your anniversary." Aya's voice sounded right above your ear. You jumped, turning your head towards her. The girl has climbed almost on the top of your armchair, looking at your phone screen above you. Bram's hand carefully grabbed her by the collar, gently picking her up.

"Manners, Princess." softly scolded he. Aya huffed.

"Sorry, Bra-chan, I just got so excited! So, [Y/N]..." Girl looked back at you. "I was right, right? Your ex-partners have done something better for your anniversary, yes?"

You were still blinking, trying to proceed the situation.

(No one noticed a strange mix of determination and jealousy on Kunikida's face)

You should be careful. Because kids were the worst, when they learned about your love life.

You bit your lip.

"Well, no, there were no celebrations for the anniversary..."

And hell got loose. The quiet room became loud. Everyone wants to say something, to complain about your terrible "ex-partners". Aya, still in Bram's hold, shook her first in the air.

"What?! What an awful people! How dare they?! Let me at them, I will teach them some respect!"

"Give me names!" you don't need to look at Teruko, to see her bloodthirsty expression.

Okay, you need to let the cat out of the bag.

You stand up and almost yelled.

"There were no anniversaries! Because I was never in a relationship! I never had a partner"

The room became quiet. Now everyone was staring at you.

Aya tilted her head.

"What? Why? Why you were never in a relationship before?"

You tried not to look in Aya's eyes.

"Why? I don't understand..."

You gulped. You really didn't want to talk about it. Time to change the subject.

"Oh, look at the time! I need to be somewhere else... In my room."

Good job, [Y/N], really smooth.

Bram start whispering something in Aya's ear. Count Stoker looked at you apologetically.

"Wait! I still don't understand! How came someone as amazing as you never had a partner?!" Aya ignored Bram's attempts to hush her, deciding to ask That Question. The girl looked not only curious, but also sad. She really thought, that your non-existent love live was something unfair.

You nervously looked around. You really didn't want to discuss it, especially with kids.

Because, of your nervousness, you didn't see, that Kunikida's face expression was quite similar to Aya's. Less curious, but, still an equally "That's unfair!" expression.

"I guess, there is nothing in me to be loved for..."

"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" you were pretty sure, that you have heard, how windows rattled because of Kunikida's scream.

Before anyone can do something, Kunikida grabbed you by the hand and started to drag you away.

_______

He stopped before your room. Kunikida was still holding your hand. His breathing was heavy.

You broke the silence.

"Kunikida... What..."

His voice was quiet but firm.

"Never... Never say, that there is nothing in you to be loved for."

You looked away.

"Kunikida, there's no need to try to cheer me up. I already made peace with that fact..."

Kunikida softly squeeze your hand.

"I mean it... You are really important to me... You fit all of my ideals."

You closed your mouth. Kunikida took his notebook and showed you the list of his ideal partner criteria. Each of them had pluses drawn near. You didn't know what to say. Kunikida's voice was soft.

"When I became self-aware, my notebook was completely empty. There was nothing. Not even one of my ideals were written down. The big part of my life was gone. And then I find a strength to live on. I find you."

You won't cry. You won't cry.

Kunikida's gaze soften.

"I wrote my ideals down again. It was my own decision. And I managed to do it, because you gave me strength."

Kunikida carefully cupped your face.

"My ideals for a partner... I thought, of what I want to see in them. Not about someone particular. You fit all of them by being your own person. [Y/N], My Ideal, you are perfect. You make me feel so happy... What I want to say..."

Kunikida blushed. You felt, like your face was on fire.

"Do you want to go on a date with me?"

You shyly nodded. Suddenly, Kunikida leaned forward and kissed you on a cheek. Still red, he mumbles.

"Great! I... I will... We will go at the end of the week, if it's fine with you."

You nodded again.

"Yes. I will wait for our date."

Kunikida's smile could brighten up the darkest abyss. Unknowingly, to you, your own smile was as bright as his.

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #kunikida doppo x reader #bsd kunikida #kunikida x reader #Self-Aware Kunikida Doppo

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graphedpaper · 9 months ago

Text

Renter Problems

yandere!celebrity x gn!reader

Synopsis: You're trying to find a place near your university to stay, and you've managed to find a mansion owned by a celebrity to live in. His name is Jacob, and you've known him since middle school, living in the same city as him. He's blown up as the new, hot celebrity thanks to the movie he's starred in, though, while you're just struggling to pass by. But he's been acting strange, and you're determined to .move out Details: Physical and verbal abuse, drugging, manipulation, gender neutral reader

Living with this man was hard. His constant need for your attention and approval, his strange comments, his overall eccentric way of living. At first, living in a celebrity mansion for a cheap price had seemed like a dream, but instead, it'd turned into a burden.

You sit up on the bed, leaning your back on the headboard and look out the floor to ceiling length window to see the sun slowly setting. You want to find a stable, normal place to stay in soon as possible.

You had posted an ad online so renters could contact you if their spot became available. You felt more secure with that back up in mind. You suppose thinking so much about Jacob attracted him because you suddenly hear a knock at your door.

"You there?" He asks, opening the door without waiting for a response.

"What's the point of knocking if you can't wait for a response?" You ask.

"It's my house, that's my door." He responds with a straight face.

"Sure..." You respond, not having the energy to argue.

"Anyways!" He claps his hand and points and you. "Want to watch my new movie with me? Pretty good if I say so myself."

You shift uncomfortably, bringing your knees to your chest. He's a bit closer to you now.

"Um, sorry Jacob but I feel a bit tired."

Jacob's smile drops. "What, you don't want to spend any time with me?"

"Huh?" You almost laugh out loud. "Do roommates have to spend time with each other? I'm paying my share of the rent, right? Do I have to be friends with you?"

Yikes. Was that a little mean of you?

Jacob would say yes, that was really, really mean of you. He was just trying to be nice.

Jacob sits at the end of your bed and you look at him confused.

"Y/n... ...Tell me the truth. Do you-" He stares at his lap. "Do you still hate me for what I've done to you when we were younger? Could you ever forgive me?"

You're stunned that he's asking for your forgiveness, but another part of you is hesitant to accept his apology, as you go through the multiple events where he'd picked on you at school. Small things, like name calling and throwing paper balls at your back.

"Oh! Um- well..." Your words falter. You have a grudge against him, but nothing so big that you would bring it up to discuss.

Jacob forces tears to form in his eyes and looks up at you. His glossy, brown eyes, all sad and red. It's fake, but you don't know that.

"Y/n the truth is I've always loved you. I admired you so much but I was too embarrassed to say my true feelings to you. Because I was scared of being rejected." Your stomach turns and you feel bad.

"I- aw.." You try to say something to comfort him but you can't form words.

You crawl to the end of the bed and you hug him. His big arms wrap around you as well and it feels more like he's cradling you rather than you embracing him. Your small form is engulfed in his arms and you start to feel calm. Jacob feels pretty good right now too.

"Jacob, don't cry, I'm sorry." You whisper to him. Sorry for what, you didn't fucking know.

"You hate me, right?"

"No! I don't!" You assure.

He gazes into your eyes. "Do you like me?" He softly asks you, not breaking eye contact.

You're speechless right now.

You part your lips and you're about to toss out some words about you and him having potential to be friends, but you're interrupted.

By Jacob pressing his own lips on your slightly open mouth. He moves his right hand to the back of your head supporting you and kisses you harder, pulling you in.

You gasp and push him off, jumping up on your feet.

"Shit! What was that!?" You exclaim. You stare at him, shocked by what just happened. You feel hot and dizzy.

Jacob looks at you. "Sorry." He mutters and leaves, locking your door on his way out.

You're left to be on your own, stewing in confusion.

It's not a matter of want now, but a need to move out immediately. Like the universe is helping you, you get a notification on your laptop about an available renter who's willing to rent out a cheap basement near your university.

You're leaving, tomorrow.

-----

You've woken up this morning feeling determined and energized. You've contacted the renter and you were supposed to move in next week but you begged her to let you move in tomorrow, and you've taken up on packing.

Thankfully, Jacob is gone again, doing his celebrity work, whatever that could entail.

You haven't seen him once since yesterday, when he confessed his love to you, then kissed you. You hadn't wanted to be kissed, or at least you think so.

On paper, maybe you should have enjoyed it. Jacob is attractive. He has loose waves and a pretty face. It felt bad, and gross, but it had also felt good, the kiss. Yet, you didn't think you could be in a relationship like that. With him.

Who knows where that kiss could have gone. It may have escalated...

You cross your legs and squeeze your thighs thinking of the possibilities. You feel warm.

You should have hated the kiss. You did, but maybe not enough. Did you like Jacob? Oh my god. No, he was a total creep, and he hadn't even asked to kiss you.

He was only thinking of his own needs again, being selfish, just as he always had been with his inflated ego.

You've almost finished packing and it's early afternoon. You stretch yourself onto the bed and doze off.

-----

"Y/n? Are you home?" Jacob calls up.

"Yeah, I'm here." You call down.

"Come down, I brought dinner."

You walk down the stairs and Jacob is in awe of your beauty. You have a glow. It's not the lighting, you're just a natural beauty, you're special.

"Really? What'd you get?" You ask. Should you tell him the news that you're moving out after or during dinner? After, you decide.

"I just got some Italian food."

You smile at him. "Nice, I love pasta."

"There's more to Italian food than pasta," He begins.

You raise your eyebrows. "So no pasta?"

He grins. "Of course pasta."

You're glad things are back to normal, because delivering the news will be easier now. Jacob unpacks everything and you smell the warm food, margherita pizza, pasta...

You bring to the table 2 plates.

As the 2 of you sit down, you stare at the plate most of time and eat ravenously. You've been so hungry all day, this is a blessing.

Jacob tells you about the new interview he did, and how he had to sign "a 1000 autographs"

Dinner is soon finished and Jacob brings out a bottle of wine. "Let's have a drink on the sofa." He suggests. You hesitate. "It's fine, everyone drinks Y/n, don't be so prudish" You relax on the sofa and taste the wine in your glass. It's fine, but you would really prefer anything else.

Jacob turns on the t.v. He sighs. "I've been lonely recently to an empty house, I'm glad you're here with me now."

Aw man, why'd he have to say that? You freeze and the sentence you've been building up to saying gets stuck. You feel warm and fuzzy because of the wine. Your eyes feel kind of heavy too.

"Speaking of- speaking of empty houses, I hate to say this Jacob, but I am leaving... ...tomorrow." You tell him, looking past him.

Jacob stares at you with sharp eyes with that sentence.

"What do you mean. When will you be back?" He asks, suddenly, and harshly, grabbing your wrist.

"Jacob, I'm moving out." You say, trying to remain gentle. You notice the strange look on his face, it's not anger or sadness, or maybe it is? You're not sure. "I mean, I'll visit! Dinner at your place sometimes?" You add, trying to appease him.

He tightens the grip on your wrist.

"Ow! Jacob, stop, it hurts! My wrist hurts!" You shout. You try to twist it out of his hand but it hurts more doing that. He doesn't let go. His eyes darken.

"What, is it because of this kiss yesterday? You know, I'm sorry, but you wanted it too. I could tell." He asks, staring directly at your own eyes, unmoving.

"Huh? Jacob you're ridiculous. I didn't want it, and yeah, one of the factors is the kiss. Also what you just said to me. Let go."

"Don't go, stay." He tells you.

"I've already made all the plans. I'm moving tomorrow. You probably didn't notice but I'm done packing." You retort back, trying to move away.

Jacob slaps you in the face. The sting leaves you paralyzed in fear. "I said, don't go!" He shouts. He lets go your wrist and you notice immediately the numbness and redness on your wrist.

You break down in tears and you start to scream for help. A neighbour, someone, anybody, to hear this and call the police.

But the alcohol blurs and softens your actions, like a terrible dream. Your arms feel weak. And that's when you realize that Jacob didn't have any wine himself. Had he meant for you to become intoxicated by yourself?

"Shut up!" Jacob barks at you and pulls you by your hair. "I confess my feelings toward you and you choose the coward's way and leave? Instead of working on this relationship?"

"Stop!" You sob. Jacob stuffs a kitchen towel in your mouth and holds it their to stop your screaming. He then wraps it with a ripped plastic bag to secure.

You gag and almost throw up with the sudden intrusion of a foreign object in your mouth.

Holding your wrists with one hand he searches for something else.

Jacob squats to your level and brings out a needle with a strange liquid already prepared inside. Your eyes widen and and your muffled screams do nothing to help your case.

"I didn't want to use it this early, but you're trying to leave. Leave us." He explains.

"It'll hurt by the way. It's supposed to make you fall asleep. I think the alcohol is not supposed to be taken with this, but you escalated the situation so there's no helping it. I didn't want to do this. I wanted to have some fucking damn food with you. You're the one who's robbing me of choices and making me into a monster."

Even in your panic you notice him rambling.

He's frantic and crazed, like a desperate maniac, sweat beads and wide pupils.

He grabs your upper arm and quickly injects the strange liquid into your body.

It hurts.

All your muscles seize up and it feels like you're being ripped to shreds. Your body slowly goes limp and you feel yourself falling into a deep darkness.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere stories #yandere imagine #yanderewriting #rich yandere #yandere celebrity #yandere rich #yandere lover #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere male

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cottonlemonade · 9 months ago

Text

Overprepared

word count: 947 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: University!AU Kuroo x chubby virgin!Reader

genre: suggestive fluff, humor, no descriptions of the act™

warnings: mdni, one time swearing, suggestiveness

synopsis: it’s your birthday and you decide you’re ready to take the next step with your boyfriend (chaotically)

You sat at your kitchen counter, watching open mouthed as your boyfriend cooked. You were skeptical at first when he told you he wanted to make you dinner for your birthday but to your great surprise he seemed to know what he was doing and... It was pretty darn attractive.

There he was, chopping and stirring and flipping, wearing a clean black apron over well fitted jeans and a black shirt and wielding your chef’s knife as if he had never done anything else in his life.

When he turned around to ask you something he caught you biting your lip and gave his signature cocky grin.

"Seeing something you like?"

"Not gonna lie, this might be the hottest thing you've ever done.", you noted, popping a stray piece of shredded chicken into your mouth.

"Well, now you know why I love watching you cook.", he winked.

You looked at him incredulously. "You are always this turned on when I cook for you?"

He shrugged. "Basically yeah. But it's also really relaxing at the same time. It's weird.", he booped your nose, before feeding you a spoonful of steaming broth.

"Too salty?"

"Mmmh. No, it's perfect!"

He beamed and turned the heat off.

"Then, my birthday girl, dinner is ready."

He plated up and carefully pushed your bowl across the counter.

You toasted with an ice cold capri sun and started a discussion about whether or not cereal could be considered a soup.

Once dinner was over and your kitchen cleaned again, you sighed happily.

"So.", you flung your arms around his neck and stood on tip-toes.

He kissed your forehead, "What do you wanna do first?"

"Super Smash Bros?"

"You read my mind."

Since your roommates were gone for the weekend you decided to have Tetsurou sleep over. He had done so many times before but besides the occasional make out session it had always ended rather innocently, both of you too shy to make an actual move. But today you felt ready.

Tetsurou came out of the steaming bathroom wearing his usual sweatpants and t-shirt to find you on the couch in a little pink pajama set he’d never seen before. He grinned and plopped down next to you.

"You still have", Tetsurou consulted his watch as you climbed into his lap, "82 mins of birthday left."

His hands wandered over your plush bare thighs, making you shiver and shift in his lap.

You kissed for a while, his hands restlessly roaming over your soft body, feeling a jolt in his lower abdomen whenever you gave a quiet moan or gasp when he touched you somewhere you liked.

He was sure you could feel him pressing against you, when you rolled your hips like that, and that made him braver. His touches and kisses became deeper and more forward, but he was ready to retreat at the first sign of discomfort.

You pulled away, panting slightly, your lips blushed.

As you adjusted in his lap a strap of your tank fell off your shoulder but you made no moves to fix it. His mouth felt dry and he swallowed.

You put both hands on his shoulders and sat up straighter, your neck oh so tempting in front of him.

He looked up into your eyes, slightly hidden behind strands of still damp hair.

You moved again, unmistakably grinding against him, making him suck in a harsh breath and you smiled.

"You sure?", he asked quietly.

You nodded.

"If you want me to stop at any time, you tell me, okay?"

You nodded again.

"You, too."

He scoffed and kissed the tip of your nose, "Sure."

Out of nervousness you stretched out your smallest finger.

"Pinky promise?"

Tetsurou bit his lip from laughing again and curled his pinky around yours.

"Pinky promise."

You stood up and your finger still holding on, you led him to your bedroom.

"Shit, wait, the condoms are in my bag.", Tetsurou cursed and wanted to get up from your bed again but you stopped him.

"I gotcha covered.", you said coolly and opened your bedside drawer.

A little while after you had started dating and when make outs became a more frequent thing, you had made a trip to a drugstore around the corner and stocked up on contraceptives.

Since you were unsure about the judgment of sizes in different brands, and seeing as you had never bought condoms before, you had grabbed a pack from every size just to be safe.

He grinned and took a look into the drawer, then frowned and picked up a pack.

"XS? Really?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't know what I was going to be working with."

"But XS!?"

"Oh, I'm sorry that I didn't study your crotch or held up a banana for reference or ask Kenma for help.", you said sarcastically.

“Why Kenma?”

You just shrugged.

“Are there rumors?”

“Fskdjsf - do you want there to be rumors?”

“I mean to be fair, I could do a lot worse than him. Like you for example.”

“Oh, now I see. You don’t want to have sex. Gotcha. My bad.”

“Tch, at least Kenma would know it’s not XS…”, he muttered.

“Babe, do you maybe have something to tell me?, you snorted.

“I'll show you XS.", he said with a mock grumble.

And then grabbed the largest size.

"Kuroo Tetsurou, if this slides off, I will laugh at you forever.", you said sternly.

You looked at each other.

After a few seconds you lifted your brow to underline your point and with a small huff he took a size smaller.

"You better believe I'm not gonna be gentle with you anymore now.", he lied.

#kuroo x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #kuroo smut #kuroo fluff #kuroo x reader #kuroo testuro #hq kuroo #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x you #haikyuu smut #haikyuu fluff #chubby reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x curvy reader

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wosoluver · 4 months ago

Text

Here for the team, for you.

Lena x Gerwnt teammate!reader -> requested

Part 2

Lena Oberdorf Masterlist

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

You played with the food that was left on your plate.

When Lea's phone ringed, she quickly got up and walked off to answer it. Mumbling a quick "I'll be right back."

You were left to chat with Klara and Feli. After you were all done, you decided to head to your rooms. You suspected your roommate had just decided to go straight to bed.

As you passed by the lobby, you walked head down, looking at your feet and letting out a yawn. Before you could get to the elevator, you felt someone grab your attention.

It was Syd pointing at something behind you.

Your face twisted in confusion as your heart beat faster. You see Obi, standing there, one hand holding the crutches and the other, arms open for you.

You quickly walked up to her, carefully wrapping her in your embrace.

"Lena! What? How?" you said looking over to the blonde girl holding her bags. "Lea!"

"I just found out, I swear!"

"Sorry for the scare, I took the first plane here. My phone was off." she said before placing a kiss to your forehead.

"Why?"

"I needed to be here. For the team. And most of all, for you."

You only shook your head, for a second not believing, your girlfriend was actually there.

But you moved aside so the girls could hug her too.

Followed by everyone headed up for a night of sleep, deciding to catch up in the morning.

"Should we go put these bags up in my room?" she offered.

"Yes." you said picking both bags up.

"I can carry one of th-"

"Absolutely not." you cut her off.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

You were staying the night at her room, no discussion about that. You had missed her like crazy.

She carefully studied you slightly. Trying to find the best way to touch on the topic.

"Your eyes are puffy." she noted softly, laying spread out in bed.

"I broke down after the game." you answered, adjusting a pillow under her leg.

"I saw. The cameraman really focused on it."

"I'm sorry." you let out a breath and she immediately looked at you like you were talking nonsense. "I failed the team today. I wasn't on my best performance."

"You don't have to apologize. This is a sport won and lost as a team. You know that." she pulled you to cuddle on her chest.

"I wanted to win this for you."

"I'm proud of you regardless. And you need to cheer up. Tomorrow is a new day and you still have a medal to win."

"I love you."

"I love you too. So much."

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Like, share and request!

Last part coming tomorrow 🩷

billie eilish x woso

#woso x reader #lena oberdorf x reader #dfb frauen #gerwnt #lena oberdorf #fc bayern frauen

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adverbally · 3 months ago

Text

I’m Never Gonna Dance Again

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Careless Whisper - George Michael” | wc: 795 | rated: T | cw: description of knee injury, brief discussion of surgery and recovery | tags: career-ending injury, ballet dancer steve, eddie is also a ballet dancer but that’s less relevant to the story, I am not a ballet expert but I did my best

———

Steve built his reputation as a danseur on his ability to jump: height, hang time, graceful landings, the complete package. So maybe it’s only fitting that the last step of his professional ballet career would be a jump as well.

A double cabriole derrière.

He’d done it hundreds of times in his career, on stage and in the studio. Throwing a leg into the air, twisting his body while his other leg comes up to beat against it twice, pushing it even higher, before landing on the bottom leg again. So simple he could float through it on autopilot, already thinking ahead to nailing the triple tour en l’air later in the variation.

Muscle memory takes over as he launches upward, raising one arm above his head with the other extended to the side, feeling the perfect point of his feet as his legs meet in the air, once, twice before gravity takes over again…

Steve hears the pop before he feels anything.

Then comes the pain in the front of his knee as it buckles beneath him. He can’t get up, he can’t even extend his leg, and he knows immediately that his days as a principal dancer are over.

It isn’t the injury itself that’s the problem. A fully ruptured patellar tendon, like his own, can be repaired. With surgery and physical therapy, he could be healed in a year, tops. Strength and range of motion almost fully restored, just a little stiffness in the joint.

But it would happen again. Repetitive motion, jumping and leaping and landing, had weakened the tendon in the first place, and resuming his work would put him at risk of another tear. He could strain other parts of his leg as he compensated for his weakened knee, and the potential cascade of more surgeries and less mobility… he needs to think beyond his ballet career and consider the rest of his life.

Eddie helps him with that, as he always does. Ballet had brought them together, from roommates at the conservatory to partners dancing for the same company. As much as he cherished sharing the stage with the love of his life, there is so much more Steve wants to share with him– walks along Lakeshore Drive, the stairs to the front door of their future home, maybe even a couple of toddlers to chase around.

Losing ballet would be okay as long as he still has Eddie, Steve thinks.

And for the most part, it is. His surgery is successful and he storms through his rehabilitation with a focus he never used outside of ballet. He keeps his spirits up, even once the cold weather sets in and the ballet season begins without him. He can walk without a limp, moving through the daily activities of his new life as if nothing had ever happened. He even tries a few simple footwork sequences under the close supervision of his physical therapist.

(When asked to jump, he refuses to try, not even a simple assemblé. It would be too painful to see how his technique had suffered in the months without practice, how the leaps that once came to him as easily as breathing are now far out of his reach.)

Everything is fine until eight months post-injury. That’s when the dreams start.

It’s usually Steve, alone on the stage, performing a solo to an empty auditorium. No music, only the slap of his slippers against the floor with every step. It’s often something he’s performed before, like Siegfried’s solo in the third act of Swan Lake or Albrecht in Act 2 of Giselle. Other nights, it’s his original choreography, made up while staring out the window on the El as he heads home from the studio. One memorable time, it’s a pas de deux of his own creation, with Eddie as his partner as they trade leaps and lifts and pirouettes as equals.

The dreams always feel so peaceful. There are no distractions, just him and his body and his breath, moving through variations, feeling the emotion behind each dance, doing what he does best. He hits every step perfectly. It’s like the endorphin rush of his best performance, every time.

And then he wakes up.

He has a moment, a fleeting thought of his rehearsal schedule for the day, wondering if his favorite practice tights are clean, before reality sets in. Then it hits him, and it hits him hard. He stumbles out of bed with his knee stiff from sleep, hoping he doesn’t wake Eddie.

Steve slips into the bathroom and turns on the shower. Then he braces himself on the vanity counter and cries as long and as loud as he wants, knowing the running water will cover up the sound of his grief.

#steddieangstyaugust #steddie #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve/eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #mine

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cryscendo · 4 months ago

Note

Hello Crys! 💫

How about: klaine + things you said when you thought i was asleep?

thank you so much for the request! both you and @bitbybitwrites sent me the same prompt so here it is for both of you <3

i went with something canon compliant and a bit angsty for this prompt. it discusses blaine’s thought regarding his relationship with kurt during the second half of season 5. i hope you like it !

Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson

Rating: G

Word Count: 841

Prompt: 12 - things you said when you thought i was asleep

if you would like to send me a prompt, you can do so here!

fic can be read below the cut <3

Kurt got home late a lot these days.

He knew that Blaine had a hard time with it. He moved to New York largely to be closer to Kurt and now Kurt was too busy to really devote much time to him.

It wasn’t anybody’s fault. Kurt just had a heavy course load this semester, and paired with his Vogue internship and diner job, he hardly had a moment to himself, much less a moment to focus on Blaine. Many evenings were spent with Kurt coming home, deciding something simple for the two of them to eat, showering, and then passing out the moment his head hit the pillow.

Blaine tried to never complain about it, but Kurt could tell it bothered him.

Tonight was especially a let-down. Kurt came home from work and had discovered that their roommates would be out for the evening. Like, all their roommates. And normally, this was a fantastic thing seeing as they hardly found time to spend together with just the two of them. But just as luck would have it, Kurt was too exhausted to be able to take advantage of their personal time in any meaningful way.

“I’m sorry, Blaine, but I haven’t really had a moment to breathe in about twelve hours,” he explained apologetically, “I really just need some sleep.”

“Oh, yeah! Of course! I get it, yeah, get some rest, honey,” Blaine replied encouragingly, offering Kurt a chaste kiss of the cheek. He was trying to not let his disappointment show, and Kurt could appreciate that.

It wasn’t until that evening that Kurt really got to see the other end of Blaine’s thoughts.

He didn’t mean to listen in, not really. He really was prepared to pass out and be dead to the world until his alarm clock devastatingly went off the next morning.

But somewhere in between the haze between wakefulness and sleep, Blaine started to speak. Not to Kurt, or rather, not in a way that Kurt was ever supposed to hear it. He sat up in bed and sighed — Kurt felt the bed jostle even despite Blaine’s efforts to not disturb him.

“Sometimes I feel like you don’t really want me around,” Blaine muttered into the darkness, and yeah, Kurt was definitely not supposed to be hearing this. A warm hand ran through his hair gently, carding through in soft strokes. “Ever since I moved to New York, I dunno, I just feel like our relationship is… different somehow.”

Kurt should’ve done something. He should’ve alerted Blaine that he was awake, because these thoughts that Blaine was sharing were something personal and private.

Against his remarkably better judgment, Kurt didn’t move.

“I think a lot of it is probably my fault,” he confessed to who he believed to be no one. “I know you say that you forgive me, and I do believe you. But I feel like some part of you still holds it against me. Not that I blame you.” Kurt heard Blaine sniffle and wondered if he was crying. Then, the hand in his hair moved as Blaine grazed his thumb along Kurt’s cheek. It was a sweet, loving gesture, but it took a bit for Kurt to not react to it in a way that would reveal he was not actually asleep.

“I should probably tell you all these things when you’re actually awake, huh? I’m just scared, I guess. I don’t know if it’s obvious yet, but I’m not really that great at this whole relationship thing. I feel like when we first met, I always knew exactly what you needed. Now, I’m not so sure.” Blaine took a breath and finally pulled his hand away.

“I think… I think I just need you to need me,” Blaine eventually admitted, and even the way Blaine spoke felt weighted. “It’s selfish as hell, I know, but I liked feeling like you needed me. You were so scared and alone and needed someone to protect you and I loved being that person for you. But now you don’t, and… and I’m still trying to figure out how to be okay with that.”

Blaine’s voice broke and Kurt felt his chest constrict at the sound. “I love the man you are, but I can’t help but miss the boy you were. You’d probably be pissed if you heard me say that.” Blaine let out a soft laugh, but it was devoid of any real humor. “It’s so much easier to say these things when you’re asleep.”

After that, Blaine fell into silence. It felt like ages, but he eventually resettled into bed, pressing a kiss to Kurt’s temple before finally cuddling up next to him. Blaine was warm, but Kurt couldn’t help a chill that sat deep in his bones from everything he just heard — every word Blaine wanted to say to him but couldn’t find the strength to say it. With his arm wrapped protectively around Kurt’s waist, he murmured one final thing before drifting off to sleep.

“G’night, Kurt. I love you.”

#my stuff #my fic #klaine #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #glee fic #klaine fic #ask box prompts #glee #fallevs #bitbybitwrites #one thing about me is that i can and will write something angsty #especially if it means i can discuss blaine’s insecurities in his relationship with kurt #i just eat it up every time

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clarisse0o · 4 months ago

Text

Camp Wiegman-Part 12

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Word : 6k

Masterlist

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Tuesday, November 3; 6:15 AM - Ona and Alexia's room.

I stand straight as a rod beside my bed. Bronze has just entered. I’m glad I haven’t lost my morning routine. I didn’t face any difficulty except that waking up was hard and abrupt due to the alarm. Luckily, my day of rest yesterday helped me recover and find motivation again. The disagreement with Bronze was quickly forgotten. I woke up alone. She had let me sleep while she went back to work. I found out when she returned just before noon to have lunch with Engen and me. She wanted us to eat before the midday bell. At least she spared me the rush hour. After that, she allowed me to stay in her room for the rest of the day as long as I didn't venture out. I promised it wasn’t my intention. I once risked it, and it didn’t end well for me. I just wanted to keep busy with movies, which I did until dinner time. I had to stop to eat with the two instructors, as agreed with Bronze. It was hard to change her mind. I was disappointed to end the day by returning to my room. I enjoyed hiding in her room. It had become my den, isolating me from the world. Needless to say, I was worried about reintegrating with the students. Bronze accompanied me to discreetly help me bring back my things. All it took was stepping into my room for any unease to vanish, thanks to Alexia. She welcomed me like a little whirlwind, not wanting to let go. It seems she eagerly awaited my return. Bronze had kept her updated regularly, but it didn’t stop her from worrying and missing me. Today, I return to the real world. Classes resume at eight. I have a knot in my stomach just thinking about it. I still don’t feel ready to return, but I have no choice. I show no signs of distress and patiently wait for Bronze to finish her inspection. It’s almost strange seeing her so impassive and expressionless again. It wasn’t like that in her room.

You can go.

Alexia doesn’t hesitate to head to the exit. I follow, but Bronze stops me by holding my arm. I turn to face her.

How are you feeling?

Better... No more fever, no nausea. I don't have much muscle pain either... I replied.

So, are you ready?

Uh-huh. I don't have a choice anyway.

Good.

I look at her attentively, squinting slightly. She’s not like usual. I don’t know what’s different, but something seems off. There’s only one way to find out...

So, how’s my work after a week? Is it done properly, Commander? I teased.

The princess finally follows the rules; that’s good, she retorts without a hint of humor.

I frown. That’s not the response I expected. I thought she’d play along. I examine her more closely. Now that I pay attention, her eyes seem swollen. And she has visible dark circles.

Are you okay?

We recently had a discussion about friendship, Batlle. It didn’t end well, so stop trying to be friendly and go eat, she orders.

She’s clearly not herself. It’s been a long time since she called me by my last name. And for such a small matter. It’s not like I asked a personal question. She’s not well, and I can’t do anything about it. I let her go, feeling powerless. I stare at the door for a moment, completely frustrated. She just brushed me off.

Ona, you coming?

I pull myself together at my roommate's call. I expected her to be gone already. Well, whatever. Bronze is right after all. She’s not my friend. It’s not my place to worry about her, even though I do and would have liked to be there for her.

Yeah, sorry. I'm coming, I say, returning her smile.

Our relationship has evolved since she learned I’m a former junkie. I feel I can trust her. I’ve grown attached to her. She seems to feel the same. She keeps saying we need to make up for the lost time of this past week.

What did Bronze want? she asks.

Just checking if everything’s okay, I shrug. She’s just doing her job.

I see.

She smiles at me in a way I can’t quite describe. I don’t dwell on it. I’m eager to get to the cafeteria. I’ll see the others, and my appetite is back. This will be my first breakfast after a long week of abstaining. I intend to savor it. When we reach the table, everyone is happy to see me. They ask if I’m feeling better. It seems no one knows about my withdrawal except Alexia and Leah. Wiegman and the four educators in charge must have covered it up as a flu absence. At least I’m spared the cliché stories about my past and pitying looks. Everything goes well this new morning. I just have a lot of questions about Bronze, who completely ignored me when she passed our table. I hope it’s not my fault. I don’t see what I did wrong, except for that conversation the other night. She didn’t seem resentful yesterday. Amidst all this, time flies. It’s almost time to return to class. We walk through the hallways to our first lesson.

I’ll join you, I tell Alexia. I need to use the restroom.

As you wish, but hurry up. It’s almost time.

Yeah, I’ll be quick.

I leave her to enter the nearest restroom. I need to gather my thoughts for the start of this morning. I first use a stall, then wash my hands. I take the opportunity to splash water on my face. Why am I in such a state over something so minor? I feel weird, like I have a bad premonition. Damn responsible person. She annoys me by making me question so much. I hit the counter in frustration. I wipe my face and leave the restroom. I sigh, seeing the empty hallways. Great, now I’m late. Perfect for a return. I walk slowly and heavily toward my classroom. A few minutes won’t make a difference since I know I won’t be allowed in anyway. When I reach the door, I knock. It opens shortly after.

Miss Batlle makes her grand return and in style, the teacher remarks right away. You start well after more than a week of absence.

Sorry for being late.

Save your pretty words and go to the instructors’ office, will you?

Of course. I know the way! I retorted sarcastically.

What did I say? I wouldn’t be accepted. I reverse course to the office of Bronze and Engen, which I know very well. I had to do archiving with Bronze there on my first day before moving boxes upstairs. I knock on the already open door to announce my presence. It’s a large space where two desks face each other. There are several filing cabinets. Nothing exceptional. There are more than one such room on the first floor. Six to be exact. One for each instructor pair. Naturally, I’m assigned to my responsible person’s. I enter the room, and Engen looks up to greet me. She’s alone, which is strange. Bronze should be here.

Batlle, she calls, surprised. Already on the first day? What brings you here this time?

Late, I grumble, sitting on the chair in front of her desk.

Late? I saw you in the halls earlier. Did I allow you to sit?

Urgent need, I half-lied. I’m not standing until Bronze arrives. Especially since I just got back.

Bronze won’t be here today. I’ll handle you for the day.

What? I blurted out in surprise.

Is that a problem?

Now this is the last straw! She raises her head from her paper, arching an eyebrow. She’s not the problem. It’s Bronze’s absence. It’s a first! She’s never missed a day since I arrived.

Okay, what’s wrong with her? Is it me?

Excuse me? she frowns. What are you talking about?

Why is she absent?

She’s entitled to a day off, isn’t she? Especially after the week she had because of you. And why am I even telling you this? It’s none of your business.

I noticed she wasn’t well this morning...

I lower my head, feeling uneasy under Engen’s scrutiny. I have regrets and don’t even know why. Maybe I spoke too much when I hear her chuckle. I must look ridiculous. I bury my head in my collar, not daring to look at her.

I don’t know which of you two worries more about the other, she murmurs.

What?

Did I hear right? Bronze worries about me? Why would she? She was asking me to keep my distance this morning... So, she talks about me to Engen. This thought warms my heart.

It has nothing to do with you, Batlle. She just has a day off to rest from her week, she explains. Anyway, that’s the end of it. How many hours are you missing due to your refusal?

Two.

Well... she murmurs, thinking. Since she’s absent and she fell behind because of you... You have two hours to sort and alphabetize Bronze’s files, she says, pointing to my responsible person’s desk.

Bronze is more original with punishments.

Stop arguing, Batlle, and get to work.

Just as friendly as Bronze... I sigh and change places, settling into my manager's office chair. Engen looks at me strangely before a sly smile stretches across her lips. She doesn't ask me to move, surprisingly. She continues her work while I focus on the task she assigned me. I don't even know where to start given the number of files scattered on the desk. I don't ask for help and try to do my work without flinching. This place is literally changing me. Just a few days ago, I would never have accepted a punishment without complaining.

Tuesday, November 3; 6:45 PM - Cafeteria

I sit down at my seat, placing my tray on the table. My first instinct is to look at Bronze's table on the educators' side. She wasn't there all day. I know because I was late again this afternoon. Engen had to take care of me. I like her a lot, but Bronze is irreplaceable when it comes to creative punishments. I straighten up in my chair when I finally see her. She's there, at her table, with Engen! We are directly across from each other. It feels like our spots were meant to be. She talks to her colleague without acknowledging me. I hope Engen doesn't say anything. She noticed my remorse because she assured me all day that I had nothing to worry about. I let go, realizing I won't get any sign from her, and try to follow the conversation happening around the table.

"Seriously, it's you?" says Alba.

"You're really in trouble, girl ! They're looking for the culprit, and it looks bad according to the rumors!" adds Lotte.

"I don't care at all," says the one in question, who is none other than Leah.

"What did you do this time?" I ask, getting to the point.

"Oh, nothing very interesting. I just tagged the sign and the walls of the establishment."

"What!?"

"It's not just laps around the field you'll get this time," laughs Alexia. "What are you playing at, seriously? Are you trying to compete with Ona for the number of punishments or what?"

Without thinking, I stand up from my chair under the incomprehensible eyes of my friends. It's my only chance. Too bad if I regret it later. Hopefully, I won't feel bad in the meantime. I walk to the educators' area. I find myself between the two instructors and stare directly into Bronze's eyes. I know Engen is also looking at me, but she's not the one I'm interested in.

"It was me," I blurt out into the void.

"It was you what, Batlle?" Engen intervenes.

"The tags. I did them."

"What the—"

Bronze raised her hand to signal her colleague to be quiet. For the first time since this morning, her eyes land on me. Her green irises pierce through me, giving me goosebumps.

"Really?" she finally asks. "I leave you alone for one day, and you manage to do something like this? Why come forward only now?"

"To take responsibility for my actions. It would be stupid for someone else to face the consequences in my place," I respond confidently.

She looks me up and down. I really don't know if I made the right choice by accusing myself without reason. One thing is certain: it was the only way to get her attention.

"Very well. Go clear your tray," she orders. "I'll deal with you tonight, no matter what state you're in. And you won't even be able to complain tomorrow morning when you wake up."

I manage a smile. My plan worked! My God, it worked! I nod and backtrack to my table. I almost trot with impatience. I'm met with confused looks from everyone at the table.

"What just happened?" asks Alba.

"I pleaded Leah's case by accusing myself."

"What?!" Leah reacts. "But why did you do that? Besides, you're not even really in a state to—"

"Don't worry about it," I cut her off. "Be glad you won't get punished!"

I reassure her ass he knows about my situation regarding the withdrawal. I feel good for a first day, so it should be fine. I think I'm the only person who is eager to get a punishment from Commander Bronze.

"Later, guys."

I go to clear my tray where Bronze is already waiting at the end of the line. I feel her eyes on me the whole time; it's unsettling. Once I'm done, she turns her back to head towards the exit. I follow her without thinking. I take advantage of the silence to observe her. I'm glad to see she has regained her color since this morning. We pass by my room where she orders me to put on sportswear. The commander is back, and I'm almost happy about it. I hurry to change, and we head to the gym. I bite my lip to avoid complaining. I asked for this. It will help me get my muscles working again after lying in bed for a week. Leah will really owe me one for taking the blame for her! We wander through the corridors of the establishment, which are almost unfamiliar to me. I haven't had many sports classes as Bronze often punished me at the same time. We stop in front of a large door that she opens. She pushes me to discover the room. I take a step back, not seeing anything in the darkness. She prevents me from fleeing with an arm around my back and pushes me inside. I'm quickly trapped with her in the room. She turns on the lights to reveal the setting, leaving me speechless. My God, tell me I'm dreaming. We are in the climbing room. What is her goal? I turn to gauge my instructor. She smiles with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. We're starting with this, and then we'll see."

Oh my God... I feel dizzy. I hate climbing. I look at the top. It's really high. There must be at least ten meters of height there!

"What do I have to do?" I ask to be sure.

"It's obvious, Ona. You're going to climb up there," she says, pointing to the top of the wall.

"Are you kidding me?!"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" she retorts. "Stop talking to complain, or I'll have worse in store for you later! You'll do the one at the back. I'll belay you."

"Belay me?"

"Yes, I'll hold you with a rope. I could very well let you climb alone, so be glad."

"Bronze... I can't... I'm afraid of heights," I admit.

"Not my problem," she says indifferently. "You should have thought about that before. Here, take this."

My throat tightens when she hands me a harness. She really has no pity. I imitate her and reluctantly put on the harness. We move to the back of the room to reach the last route. Damn... What mess have I gotten myself into this time? I'll never make it. I'm really afraid of heights and not just a little! Just being on a chair already scares me. I inspect the wall in front of me, covered in numerous holds. Just imagining myself up there makes me dizzy. I look to my left to see an insurmountable wall named Bronze.

"Sorry, but I really can't..."

"It's not negotiable, you should know that. Just don't look down and trust me. Come here."

She ties the loop of my harness with the route's rope. She does it with such ease. I can no longer escape. She gives it a sharp tug to check the knot's solidity. I'm starting to panic. Bronze seems so comfortable with any sport, but that's not my case. She finally takes the other end of the rope to attach it to a metal loop she ties to her harness.

"There, we're ready. You can start. I gave you the easiest route. The holds are big and easy to reach. »

I sigh as I face the climbing wall. The last time I climbed was back in high school, and I was far from being any good. I start to climb, using one handhold, then two, then three... and I'm already stuck. I'm less than a meter off the ground, and I don’t know where to put my foot next.

"To the right, Batlle," she directs me.

"That's way too far!"

"Of course not. Use your legs to climb, not just your hands. You’ll never make it otherwise."

"What kind of punishment is this, seriously?" I snap.

"Alright, enough complaining. Climb that damn wall now. We’re not leaving until you reach the top."

And I know she's serious. Bronze likes things to be finished. Especially punishments. There’s never been one that I’ve abandoned halfway. I place my foot on the hold she indicated and muster all my remaining strength.

"See, you can do it when you try."

I continue climbing higher and higher. I had to stop several times after making the mistake of looking down. Bronze had to reassure me and encourage me to keep going. I have no idea what time it is, but it’s definitely late. I struggle to grasp another hold, and finally, I reach the top! I let out a proud yell, which makes Bronze laugh. It’s the first time I’ve succeeded, and it’s all thanks to her. She made sure I didn’t give up. I sigh in relief.

"Can you lower me down now?"

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'!?"

I wish I could see her face, just to know if she’s joking. Her voice doesn’t sound like she’s joking. Unfortunately, I can't verify it. I cling to the wall, trying not to let go.

"No. I’m not letting you down. Not yet."

"This isn’t funny! I’m really scared and can hardly hold on. Everything hurts!"

"I’ve got you. You’ll stay up there until you explain why you took the blame for something you didn’t do."

"Excuse me!? What makes you think that? I did it!"

"Those tags were done Sunday night, Ona. Last I checked, we spent the evening together. Besides, the drawings look like they were done by a kindergartener. It would be a disgrace for someone who practices art as a hobby. To top it off, we already found out who the culprit was just before dinner."

Damn it! She got me like a rookie. Here I am, stuck against this wall like an idiot. She brings me back to reality.

"So, Ona. Don’t mess with me and tell me the truth!"

I’m literally backed into a corner. I close my eyes and rest my head against the wall. I have no choice, I have to talk. My limbs are giving out, and my head is spinning. I’m trembling all over. I’ll lose my grip soon.

"I wanted to get your attention..."

"Get my attention?" she repeats, surprised. "Why?"

"You ignored me all day, and I noticed you weren’t doing well this morning... I was afraid it was because of me, even though Engen assured me otherwise."

"You can’t be serious, Ona? You got yourself accused of something so serious just to get to me!?"

"It seemed to be working until now..."

"You’re such an idiot!" she says bitterly. "But you’re brave, I’ll give you that. Alright, let go of the holds. I’ll lower you down."

"I can’t."

"Don’t be ridiculous. Let go!"

"I’m scared!"

She sighs as I cling tighter to the wall. I can’t help it; it’s stronger than me.

"Ona, there’s a reason I made you climb up there."

"Oh really?" I sneer bitterly.

"It’s a trust exercise. I need you to trust me, not just in climbing."

"Stupid exercise!"

I’m on the verge of a panic attack. I’m holding back tears that are welling up in my eyes.

"Ona, please, I won’t let you fall, I promise."

My trembling won’t stop. It’s an awful feeling. I close my eyes to fight against myself. I know I can trust her. I don’t know what I’m waiting for. I take a deep breath before letting go without thinking. I squeak as I swing back and forth, hitting the wall. She stabilizes me before slowly lowering me down. I force myself to open my eyes to see myself floating in the air. My heart is pounding with fear, but it’s not so bad after all. I’m relieved once my feet touch the ground. I collapse against the wall, trying to regain my composure. Bronze smiles at me and crouches down to untie my knot. She really got me this time. She knew it wasn’t me. She just wanted to corner me to make me talk. She surprises me by placing her hand on my forehead to check my temperature.

"You haven’t had any more episodes?"

"No, it was fine today..." I murmur.

"Hmm. Engen told me that you were late. Was that also to get my attention?" she teases.

"The first one wasn’t. Well... not intentionally. The second was to check if you were absent for the day."

She raises an eyebrow before bursting into laughter. It’s a genuine, pleasant laugh. She shakes her head before leaning against the other wall. It’s true it would’ve been smarter to choose the other wall. The climbing wall’s features hurt my back, but I’m too exhausted to move now. I watch her pull her legs up and wrap her arms around them. It’s a very childlike position for her. I savor the silence that follows. I realize I missed her presence today. It doesn’t stop me from feeling stupid for confessing my obsession with her. I watch her stare at an invisible point in front of her, looking completely absent. Several minutes pass before she speaks again.

« Why?"

« What do you mean, « why »? »

« Why did you want to get my attention? » she repeats, finally looking at me intently. « It’s really confusing. Just a week ago, you hated me. »

I lower my head, thinking. She's right. It is confusing given everything I’ve said to her. I don’t even know when my feelings changed. I nervously play with my fingers. Admitting my true feelings would reveal too much. I sigh as I look at the ceiling.

« You’re the only one who cares about me here. Well, no. You’re actually the only one who’s cared about me for years, I correct myself. I appreciate the attention you give me, even if it’s sometimes annoying to have you on my back. I’m sorry for getting so worked up the other night. I felt like everything I thought was wrong and was afraid you’d become cold again like in the beginning . »

« What exactly were you thinking? »

"Well... I thought you were only helping me because you were ordered to. That you were doing it professionally and not because you liked me. »

« Of course, I’m doing it professionally, but not just that, Ona. By accepting Wiegman’s offer, I volunteered to supervise you and enforce the rules. That’s all. The rest is from me. »

I feel remorse now. I lower my head to hide my embarrassment. I’ve been making a fuss over something that doesn’t exist. I suddenly feel really foolish.

« If I really didn’t care about you, I would have let them send you to a rehab center like Wiegman and your mother planned, she adds. I dissuaded them because I trusted you, and I was right to. »

« Thank you…"

« I’m not doing much. »

« Yes, more than you think. »

« Like what, for example? »

« You’re the only one who can stand up to me. You punish me without mercy and manage to make me comply with orders I would never have followed before... You’re also the only one who pushes me to succeed in what I undertake. You show that you trust me, and that reassures me », I conclude.

I’m a real idiot. She wants the best for me, and I keep digging myself deeper. I watch her as she remains silent. She seems lost in thought.

« You have a very contradictory personality, you know? »

« What do you mean? »

« You act like a tough girl who doesn’t care about anything and is afraid of nothing, but after spending time with you... I’ve discovered that you have a serious lack of self-confidence. My punishments have chipped away at your armor. »

I don’t respond. There’s nothing to say since she hit the nail on the head. Bronze is very observant. She just figured out that side of me without me wanting her to. I bite my lip.

« I wanted to thank you for what you did for me this week. »

« It’s normal. »

« I must admit it really pissed me off to see you so down this morning. You don’t hesitate to help me when I have issues, and I can’t even do anything for you. I thought about it so much that I went over every situation from last week, fearing I had done something wrong. »

I need to get this off my chest so she knows how I feel. I felt bad for her. I’m aware that our relationship is evolving, but I hope our attitudes won’t change. I really enjoy annoying her. It’s become my favorite pastime here. It’s fun, and I love that she takes care of me... Even if the punishments aren’t always great.

« I got dumped last night. »

I look at her in disbelief. I don’t know what surprises me more: the fact that she’s confiding something very personal or that she broke the rules. I had already asked her questions about herself, and she had kindly brushed me off.

« The commander dares to break rules? » I reply with humor. « And seriously, did someone actually want you?! »

« Of course they did! » she huffs, hitting me on the shoulder.

« Sorry, »I chuckled. « It was too tempting! »

I managed to get a small laugh out of her. She rests her head against the wall and closes her eyes. She really seems affected. I should have noticed this morning.

« He’s just an idiot. He doesn’t know what he’s missing. »

« Oh really?" she chuckles, looking at me.

« Absolutely. Even though you’re a super annoying commander... I imagine that outside these walls, you must be a nice person. I got a little glimpse of that this week. »

« I’ll remember those words. »

« Hey! That’s out of the question! I’m trying to cheer you up here! »

I managed to get her to laugh a little more. It’s nice to hear, and it reassures me at the same time.

« You say that, but you don’t even know what happened. For all you know, I could be the worst bitch. »

« Is that so?"

« I don’t think so. Only with you when you annoy me. »

« That’s mean. »

« Realistic. »

I smile at her response. I love having these casual, spontaneous conversations with her. I know it’s short-lived, so I’m enjoying it. As soon as we leave this room, I’ll have to deal with the commander again. She’s too obsessed with the rules to be any different.

« How long were you clean before last weekend? »

I sit up at this question. It seems like we’re in a moment of trust. I turn to face her and let my head rest against the wall. Her eyes are looking at me intently, very interested in my forthcoming answer. She’s taking a risk by asking me to open up... I sigh and play with a strand of my hair.

« I left the rehab center on September 18. One year after I entered. »

« Just a week before you came here? » she’s surprised.

« I guess my mother preferred to send me to this hole at the other end of the country rather than risk seeing me relapse, » I chuckle bitterly.

« I’m glad she did »

« Really? » I frown. « I could have done without a military school. Just like the rehab, actually. It was really my worst experience. »

« Drugs are just a never-ending spiral once you taste them. I hope you won’t fall back into it. »

« It was just a rough patch, that’s all…"

I murmur this as I pull my knees to my chest. I’m very thoughtful about everything I’ve been through.

« «You complain about school, but if she hadn’t sent you here, I wouldn’t have met this cheeky kid you are. »

« That’s true, » I say with a shy smile. « You’re right. »

We enjoy the calming silence after all these emotions. It’s been a long time since I confided in anyone other than Mapi. She didn’t even have to drag it out of me. Mapi got the full story. She won, as she’s now the only one who knows everything. It’s no wonder she’s my best friend. She’s the only one I trust implicitly. I know she’ll never let me go, or she would have done so already.

« Still, I know about your love life before your first name. »

« In your dreams, I’m not telling you ».

« Why? You’ve already broken many rules tonight. One more or less…"

« You’ll find out sooner or later, but not tonight. You already know more than you should. »

I give up to keep the good mood going. I’m curious to know, but it will have to wait. I’ve tried to find out, but no one knows. It feels like a golden rule, but it seems ridiculous.

« If you don’t tell me, then tell me why such a beautiful girl is still single? »

« I don’t think t— »

« Oh come on », I interrupt. « You can talk about it to someone. And besides, who am I going to tell? I have no friends here. »

« No friends? What about the Putellas sisters or Leah and others? » she lists.

« Well, alright... I might have friends... Actually, I didn’t really want any attachments... I hate relationships; they always end up causing pain. Except Alexia didn’t get that memo... She can be very endearing. »

« We’re not so different after all, » she murmurs.

« Why do you say that? »

« I’ve been criticized for not being present enough and not investing enough in my relationships, she confesses. That weekend I couldn’t come home was the last straw. I’m not good with attachments either. I’m actually more of a feelings handicap who runs away at the first sign of trouble. »

« So I’m to blame."

"What? No, of course not! » she quickly responds. « It was planned that I wouldn’t come home the weekend you returned. Wiegman ordered me to keep an eye on you the whole week. I informed them of my absence well in advance. It was just that things were already bad before, and the news didn’t sit well. It’s in no way your fault, I assure you. »

I am to blame, even if she says otherwise. If she had returned, she might still be in a relationship. Can I be selfish for not wanting things to change? If none of this had happened, we wouldn’t be here sharing private conversations. I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. I feel comfortable around her. I no longer feel exposed when confiding in her.

« Do you promise that everything we’ve talked about stays between us? » she asks.

« Of course », I promise. « And I’m not the type to break my promises. »

Time continues to pass. I hope it’s not too late. I’m dead tired, though. This first day has really worn me out. To think that just yesterday I spent the entire day in bed.

« I’m going to take you back to your room, she breaks the silence by standing up. You need to rest. »

« Do you work tomorrow? »

"I suppose I have no choice if I want you to behave. You might try to get my attention. »

« Oh, come on, I chuckle. »

I can tell she’ll bring up this story more than once. I accept her hand that helps me up. We put the equipment back in place before leaving our confessional space. Students are still hanging around in the hallways, which means it’s not yet past ten o’clock. Bronze accompanies me to my room, and I’m glad to see that it’s empty.

« Well then... Good night », she says.

« Thanks for everything, Bronze, » I reply softly.

« See you tomorrow, Batlle. »

I smile as she ruffles my hair. I don’t like the gesture, but coming from her, it doesn’t bother me. Once she’s gone, I head to the bathroom for a quick shower and put on my pajamas. I don’t waste any time sliding under the covers afterward. I’m physically and emotionally exhausted from the day, even though it’s better now. It was a special exchange, and I’m glad I’m the only one who knows about it. I get lost in my thoughts, but it doesn’t stop me from falling asleep effortlessly, with a smile on my lips.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #barca femeni #ona batlle #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #leah williamson #ona batlle x lucy bronze #alexia putellas #ingrid engen

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