#aurora 05. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fangweaver2099 · 5 months ago

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𝐅 𝐀 𝐖 𝐍 𝐓 𝐄 𝐄 𝐓 𝐇 - CH 3 - KIDNAPPED BY ONE DIRECTION

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 @iamtheprincess227 @haveclayeveryday @junehasnotbeenfound @thedevaxer @bunnibitez @kodzuminx @neteyamslovrr @cl3stevu @miguels-cock-piercings @dumn-little-bunny

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - CHAPTER 1 - CHAPTER 2

8/19/24 7:05 AM - WebRigger2099 - “Look at you, little Fawn; so delicious. You make me want to hunt you down like a wolf and tear that cute outfit off of you.”

You didn’t really hear what Aurora mentioned despite your reaction - did she know Dr. O’Hara? She did have a tendency for weird nicknames. She called Taylor “TayTay'' once and you swore you’ve never seen them so mad - they’d yelled something about Taylor Swift? You think? You weren't sure - you were way more focused on the fact that your professor needed to pull you aside for… something.

Your thoughts immediately went to the worst case scenario.

Did you accidentally plagiarize one of your papers? You’d seen videos of plagiarism checkers catching lines used in obscure fanfics before, could that have happened to you? Or did you completely flunk something and he was merely giving you a heads up before dropping you from his class and alerting the dean?

You never did get the opportunity to talk. Aurora seemed intent on talking his head off, and before the older man could get a word in, she had rushed everyone out of the classroom, chittering away like a parakeet. You didn’t particularly want to have a conversation with your least-favorite professor, so you quickly told him you’d speak to him on Wednesday about it. You tried to convince yourself that you were content with being ignorant to whatever problem he had with you for the weekend.

But even when you were loaded in the back of Aurora's 2012 Subaru Forester you couldn’t get your mind off it, not fully. Not like you had a means of distraction either, you kept opening telegram and then closing it.

Because you were the tallest in the group, you always got the window seat…at least you wouldn’t have to worry about anyone in the back looking over your shoulder at your phone screen.

“Off to the shore now. I’ll make sure to take pics :3” - Fawnteeth - 8/19/24 12:05 PM [Read]

Your fingers were practically flying across the small screen as you chewed on your bottom lip. In a way it felt awkward messaging him, desperate for attention you hoped he would reply - you saw the indication he read the message instantly, but no reply came. You settled with scrolling instagram, he’d reply eventually.

He was an adult - he had a life.

Just like you.

You had a life, right?

Totally.

After a thankfully uneventful drive from NYC to Ocean Grove's beautiful beach and cozy little town. It was early enough that the beach wasn’t completely packed, blessedly, leaving plenty. You helped Kore and Taylor unpack the car, being the only one who could carry the umbrella. So you tugged it along as you saw Aurora with her girlfriend Cerice.

The two met by accident at one of the many cheap bar stands that littered the shore. She was a lifeguard and Aurora had somehow flirted herself out of getting scolded when she was caught running with two margaritas in hand.

(She may have been a short little thing but damn if Aurora could drink.)

The two were inseparable when they got together, always attached at the hip. You swore Aurora would drive the three hours there every day if she had the time. Honestly, you found yourself occasionally wishing for something like what they had - their relationship was enviable with how affectionate they were, even if it made Taylor roll her eyes sometimes with how sickeningly cute they were.

But you never really saw yourself as relationship material anyways, and besides the closest thing you had to a boyfriend was an old man that had made you cum with a bluetooth toy a couple times. You didn’t know his name, and, really, you weren’t even sure if it counted as a situationship, and he was currently leaving you on read…

(was he seriously that technologically inept? you knew he was older, but he had to know that leaving people on read was, like, insanely rude.)

As always, though, an impromptu beach day meant attempting to build a sand castle with Kore, Aurora, Babette and Cerice while Taylor acted weirdly dad-like, scoping out the beach, commenting on the tide and mumbling about sunscreen and adjusting the ‘god damn umbrella, christ’.

They had a thing about skin cancer. It was the ginger in them.

After you helped build the foundations, watching Aurora and Kore collect sticks and colorful shells in order to decorate the sandcastle which was still just its foundations. You settled down on a towel and pulled your phone out of your bag. You used your bag as a pillow, shaded under the umbrella as the day passed by.

You shouldn’t be thinking about college right now, nor what Dr. O’Hara was going to chat with you about. It didn’t matter that you had an essay due Monday and a report due Thursday. You’d get it all done the night before in a grind of glorious procrastination as you did on most assignments that required your attention for more than an hour.

You wished Web had replied. It was strange that he hadn’t; usually, he was pretty quick to get back to you, but the fact that he had left you on read was strange. Maybe you’d do something to get his attention.

You opened your phone and realized that your boobs looked great at this angle. Snapping a picture, you shot it Web’s way. He didn’t open it this time, but you could see that he had the app open before promptly closing after he got your notification.

Weird.

You ended up taking a nap listening to Aurora, Cerice and Kore chat away about the sand castle. You’d look up every so often and see Babs in the distance on her large pink colored donut floatie, and assumed Taylor was somewhere nearby.

In the end, you all walked the boardwalk, got ice cream at the little corner shop and collected seashells and sea glass. Babette found a red sea glass piece and you all freaked out at how rare it was. You all took pictures to post to your instagram stories, and Aurora made some offhand comment about her “Uncle Miggy” liking a post from a few weeks ago.

Overall, it was a huge relief to get away from the rest of your life. A tiny vacation, in a way. You kept checking Web’s messages… but again, you saw he had seen your photo but hadn’t replied.

Maybe he was busy.

After you had showered away sand and salt, moisturized and dressed in your favorite pajamas - an old t-shirt and loose sleep shorts - you pulled up the Canvas app. Nothing was due tonight, so you were good to cuddle up in your bed, pull up a movie, and relax.

For a moment, you just stared at your phone. Were you desperate enough to text Web again? After all, this wasn’t normal. He always replied or said he was busy and would get back to you. He’d typically even shoot a ‘ busy next few days’ as a warning, not just… leave you high and dry like this. .

Did you upset him? Was it something that you did? Or - maybe he had some kind of emergency in his personal life? With how old he was, surely he had family, right?

You went back and forth, if you messaged him again, that would be pretty pathetic. But everything about this situationship of yours was pretty pathetic if you thought about it for too long. He had purchased you, a girl he had just barely met, over 200 dollars in sex toys, and in exchange he had seen almost every inch of your body.

Save your face of course, you’d even gotten lazy and let him see your tattoo a couple of times, he said it was pretty, and “fitting,” whatever that meant.

You gave in and messaged him again.

“Heyy just got back home u up?” - Fawnteeth - 8/19/24 9:23 PM [Read]

You watched that message for hours, anxiously switching between Telegram, Tiktok, Instagram, and even Pinterest. You couldn’t even remember the last time you opened Pinterest, but you were desperate for anything to keep you distracted. Time seemed to crawl, and soon it was nearing 1 AM -

and he still hadn’t replied.

You told yourself you were being silly, that there had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why he wasn’t responding to you. You did your best to convince yourself, but you couldn’t ignore that gnawing feeling in your gut that something was deeply wrong.

Maybe you should visit a doctor about getting you a prescription for anxiety medication…

You fell asleep waiting for his reply - the anxiety alone wasn’t enough to keep you up later than 2 AM. When you woke up and were conscious enough to register last night, you quickly scooped up your phone and scrolled through all of your notifications to find… that he had left you on read, and never replied.

It just wasn’t like him. Something was clearly wrong.

The feeling of dread returned and went straight to your stomach again. You couldn’t bring yourself to get up yet, it was only 9 AM, and you didn’t have class till noon anyways. You sunk back into the comfort of your pillows and allowed the weight of your weighted blanket to crush you. You didn’t want to distract yourself, you just wanted to lay there and wallow. So you didn’t bother with the nervous routine of checking all of your apps and allowed yourself to wonder what you did.

You opened your phone against your better judgment, reading over the last few texts you sent him.

(Did he think you were trying to get out of meeting up with him?)

“Hey, hope you’re okay. Not like you to not let me know if you’re gonna be gone.” - Fawnteeth - 8/20/24 11:53 AM [Read]

Did he find someone better than you? Prettier, smarter? Easier to get along with? Dread was where your mind went to first. You couldn’t come up with a logical explanation as to why this was happening. You knew you’d felt better once Web actually answered you, for fucks sake. But until he did it seemed that you were nothing more than a spider caught in a web of your own insecurities and anxiety, and no one had yet come to your rescue to cut you free.

Minutes turned to hours and soon the alarm you set yourself went off. 10:30, you needed to at least shower and get something in your stomach before you went to class. You couldn’t allow yourself to skip just because the internet man you’d grown attached to had decided to ghost you. You were pathetic, but you weren’t going to be that pathetic, no matter how much you really wanted to. Thankfully, all your other professors were way nicer than Dr. O’Hara.

You showered, ate oven-heated chicken nuggets with Taylor and made yourself at least somewhat presentable. You hated how much you craved Web’s attention and care - it was stupid how a man you barely knew had reduced you to this.

You looked at yourself in the mirror before heading out, you looked like shit, you knew that. Deep eyebags a clear indicator of a lack of sleep, your hair was still a bit damp from your rushed shower and you were pretty sure you hadn’t completely washed your conditioner out. It was up in a disgustingly messy bun, so it's not like it mattered anyways.

You tried to navigate the day as you typically would, aching for any shred of normalcy as a welcome distraction. You were halfway through one of your classes when you had to rush to a bathroom stall to have a silent panic attack. You were wiping your tears with the shitty paper-thin toilet paper when you decided to just head back home, consequences be damned.

On the subway back to your shared apartment, you took out your phone and sent a quick message to the group chat.

“Went home early, when all of you are back could you be as quiet as you can please? I’m sick and not feeling well :( ”

You dropped your bag on the floor and kicked your shoes off into some uncaring corner of the room. The moment your head hit the pillow and you were curled up comfortably, you were out like a light. You weren’t sure how long you were asleep, but when you checked your phone It was about 5 am. You had a few notifications, the expected feel better soon wishes from your friends, some Instagram notifications, but nothing from Telegram. You didn’t bother checking it, you knew that the Read in italics seen underneath the last message you sent would only mock you further. Your roommates had at least done what you had asked, the whole place was quiet and still. They were all probably still asleep.

You didn’t bother to shower, instead crawling back into bed and watching Supernatural. You didn’t even like Supernatural - but you watched three episodes straight and fell asleep in your sweats on your bed with the sound of Dean yelling lulling you to sleep.

Eventually, you woke up with sweat sticking to the back of your neck. You felt gross and it made you shiver. It was 11AM and you knew you had classes. You convinced yourself to take a shower, but forgot to eat. You ended up getting coffee and a bagel on the way to class.

It wasn’t a very good bagel.

But hey, you did ace your first test in calculus - take that, Dr. O’Hara. You were good at math.

You messaged Web again when you took the subway back home.

“Did I do something? I’m really getting worried.” - Fawnteeth - 8/21/24 5:28 PM [Read]

He was getting your messages, reading them clearly, and yet he was choosing at this point not to reply. You were truly getting ghosted at this point, and the realization that Web was probably not ever going to respond to you hit you like a brick to the head. You tried not to cry on the subway, you did not want to be that girl who cried on the subway over getting ghosted on Fetlife.

When you got back to your apartment, you once again shed your shoes and outdoor clothes, and crawled back into bed. You ignored everyones concerned looks and mumbled to Aurora that you were fine and just tired when she knocked on your door to check on you. You appreciated the gesture, but you did not want to talk to anyone right now, and you didn’t have the energy to deal with Aurora's animated personality at the moment.

Despite the exhaustion you felt, you couldn’t sleep. The silence of your room was deafening, and the complete lack of message notifications you were getting only made you want to cry. You let out a shaky sigh as a few stray tears dripped down your cheeks. You weren’t in public, you were in the enclosure of your own room with only a few stuffed animals as your witness. You could cry now, this was probably the best place to cry.

Yet despite how badly you wanted to, how you wanted to scream and sob and fall apart until you were a heap of sweat and snot on your bed, you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything more than shed a couple more tears. You didn’t eat dinner that night, you felt like if you tried to you’d just puke it all up.

If Web knew you weren’t eating, he’d scold you, maybe even punish you. You wished he would, punishment, no matter how painful it was and how sore it made you, was better than this. You wanted to go into your messages, confess to every skipped meal, missed shower and late bedtime, to put it all in writing in the hopes of getting some kind of reaction from him, even if he was busy. Probably busy with some new girl that he was talking to that had bigger boobs than you and a cuter pussy. He was probably telling her to write the praises and sweet words meant for you on her body.

You felt like throwing up.

You were being completely pathetic now, you knew that. But now you were too sad and too hurt to care. Maybe if you bothered him enough, you’d get some kind of response. Closure maybe? Taylor told you when you broke up with your last boyfriend that you deserved closure, so this probably wasn’t any different

“I do want to meet up, if that was a problem… I’m not trying to lead you on. Please” - Fawnteeth - 8/21/24 11:45 PM [Read]

You doomscrolled for an hour before you turned your phone off completely and went to bed.

You woke up to your alarm, feeling like shit just like the past few mornings. You forgot to shower again, and planned on skipping breakfast before Babs stopped you and pushed a protein bar into your hands. You ate it to make her happy, and it did help a little, even if you hated the peanut butter flavor.

As much as you wanted to skip class again today, you knew you couldn’t. You had Dr. O’Hara’s class today, and he would be the least understanding and sympathetic to your problems. He’d probably laugh at you and tell you to grow up. That the “real world” didn’t make accommodations to the hurt feelings of a stupid girl.

Asshole.

You walked into his classroom with Taylor on your heels, but before you even had the chance to set your bag down at your non-assigned assigned seat, Dr. O’Hara stopped you. “Stay after class. I’d like to have a word with you.” You felt tears burn in your eyes as you barely managed to whisper out a “yes sir” before you found your seat. Taylor raised an eyebrow at you, concerned, but you just shook your head, wiping your eyes and looking down at your shitty laptop’s keyboard as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d cried this much.

You had completely forgotten about him wanting to talk with you. It was probably about your academics, and how you’d somehow fucked up unintentionally and ruined your life yet again. First it was your Fetlife dom that you clearly had strong feelings for, and now you were going to get kicked out of college for plagiarism. This was it! You’ve completely ruined your life and now you were going to be stuck working retail for the rest of it with horrible hours just to be able to afford to keep a roof over your head. Next all your friends were going to tell you that they hated you and are kicking you out.

You couldn’t pay attention in class, you didn’t even make a single note. Dr. O’Hara was a horrible professor, and Taylor would give you their notes anyways. You could see the way their eyes occasionally flicked to you, concern and scrutinization mingling into something that almost resembled pity.

You stayed in your spot after class had finished, with Taylor telling you to text them whenever your conversation was over so they could walk you to the Subway. They never did that - while Taylor was always protective, they seemed hesitant to actually be personal and one on one with people. God, you must’ve looked like a wreck then. Once everyone had cleared out, your professor turned to you. “Come to my office and wait outside, I’ll call for you once I’m ready to see you. This isn’t a classroom conversation.” His voice was cold - was it colder than usual? God, you felt nauseous.

You nodded, wringing your hands, and walked your way over to his office. Peeking inside the window, it seemed cold and empty, save for the man himself. There was not a single personal item or degree on the wall - it felt like a shell, really. Was this not his usual office? You tried to remember if he had office hours listed in his syllabus, you didn’t think he offered them. You sat down in the plastic chair outside the room, clutching your bag as you dug your nails into the well-worn material.

As he sat down, Dr. O’Hara mumbled your name, formal and cold, and god, it felt like he was mad at you. You practically tiptoed into the room as you shut the door behind you with shaking fragility. You were a good girl, all things considered. The only time you had ever been called into an office was to congratulate you on your scholarship. Of course, you totally squandered said scholarship by doing what your father wanted and going into nursing , but that was neither here nor there.

(Even if he was still upset with you at the new development.)

Now he’d be laughing at you - you were already failing classes. So much for success and proving him wrong. You hoped when you were older, maybe in your thirties, that you could go right up to your father and prance about his office, singing “I told you so’s” from the heavens themselves. Now your life was over, and within a week you were sure to be homeless.

You felt cold sweat on your neck, forcing you to fiddle with the tag of your zippered sweatshirt as you sat down in the plastic chair before Dr. O’Hara’s desk. You found yourself staring at your sneakers, double knotted and slightly stained.

Did you already fail? Did you fuck up your most recent assignment? Did whatever plagiarism checker he used ping a false alarm? Your mind rushed to a thousand possibilities.

Dr. O’Hara cleared his throat, causing you to jump out of your thoughts. You looked up at him. He looked… nervous? You had never been close enough to really see his features, he looked older, wide flat nose, pronounced cheekbones, dark messy hair. His dark brown eyes were staring you down.

…Was he waiting for you to speak? Did he think you knew why you were here? The silence was worse than any scolding he could give you.

You were a talker. You’d always been a talker. The amount of times that you’d been told to shut up in your life was more than you could count.

So, of course, you talked .

“I-I don’t know why I’m here. I hope it - I promise you I'm trying as hard as I can. I both work and do school full time. If it’s something with my recent assignments I- I don’t know . I’m trying. I.. I have a habit of using really big words that sometimes come up with plagiarism checkers that the college recommends you all use. It happened last semester with one of my roommates - er. They didn’t have anything to do with any of my assignments. They’re not even in the same major -”

“Slow down. You’re not in trouble,” he interrupted, eyes tired as he lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

You paused your rambling, staring at him almost dumbfounded as you grip at your sweatshirt. “W… Why am I here?”

He looked like he was weighing something in his head as he stared at you, dark gaze thinning and lips pressing thin. With a big exhale, he let out whatever inhibitions had been holding him back.

“Does the phrase ‘Fawnteeth’ mean anything to you?” His words were blunt and emotionless, face turning to stone in an instant. You couldn’t read him, but you weren’t very good at reading faces anyway.

You felt all the color drain from your face, veins turning to ice. You were frozen, terrified, a deer in the headlights. How the fuck did your professor know about - that. You had used ‘Fawn’ as an online alias since you were a teen, yes. But Fawnteeth was something that you only used… on Fetlife. You know - where you were anonymous . You were supposed to be anonymous!

…Did someone tell him? The college board? Not even your roommates knew you used that website. You only spoke to three people on it - and even then, only one regularly. Or… you had, before Web ghosted you.

In your panic, you couldn’t put any answer together that made any sense.

“I… If anyone has sent you anything. I am so sorry- I don’t know how. Oh my god . I’m so fucked .” Your hands grabbed your face, fingers sinking into your flushed cheeks as you tried to look anywhere but your genetics professor.

“You’re not in trouble,” he reiterated, though the words seemed almost as painful as they were awkward rolling off his tongue, “I just needed to - we needed to -”

You couldn’t look him in the eyes as he spoke, so you stared at his hands.

His… oddly familiar hands.

(Despite the fact that you’d never been close enough to see his hands.)

You heard him talk, but it was like listening through water as you just stared at his hands. As you visualized the last time you saw them wrapped around - oh god.

Your eyes darted up to meet his, and he looked…concerned, brow furrowed and dark eyes wide. You tried desperately to speak, but your words caught in your throat.

His hands were Web’s hands. The same scar on his knuckle and webbing of veins that made them look out of those black and white thirst trap BDSM aesthetic tumblr posts you used to reblog on tumblr.

This was not what you had imagined when you agreed to meet up with your weird…online situationship dominant.

Distantly, you heard Dr. O’Hara - Web - say your name, still coming through your head like water, distant and muffled.

This had to be some sick joke. You trailed your hands from your cheeks to cover your ears. You swear you’re going to hurl.

Were you having a panic attack?

Probably.

You took a moment to breathe into the silence, thankful that he seemed to take the hint and stop fucking talking . You could just leave, pretend like he never.. You two never…

This had to be a sick joke. Unless he hunted down one of his future students… but… You hadn’t even signed up for his class when he messaged you. No, this had to be some horrible accident. Some horrible, horrible accident. You did NOT sign up to fuck your teacher.

Especially not… Him. Anyone but him.

Finally managing to compose yourself, you took in a shaky breath, hands dropping from your face to your lap. Forcing yourself to meet his eyes, you balked at the sight - he looked terrified . Not ten minutes ago, you would’ve found some sick joy in it, but right now…

You couldn’t find the humor.

“Web?” Your voice cracked, upset and heartbroken. What else could you say? Ask? What could you do ?

You watched Dr. O’Hara tense up, breathing through his teeth. He ripped his gaze from you and placed his hands, palm down on the table.

This could only happen to you. Only you would somehow sext your fucking teacher for months. You could never have anything easy or normal. He couldn’t have been some banker, or a stupid sexy jock librarian.

“Dios mío…,” Dr. O’Hara rumbled, voice deep and low. You watched him lean back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

He was Web. Your horrible, awful, asshole professor that you had spent countless nights bitching about was the man you had sent pictures and videos of your whole pussy swallowing up a dildo to. This man had seen you cum before he’d seen you get an A on one of his assignments.

Oh god.

You spent a solid thirty seconds in the most painful, humiliating, awkward silence you’d ever gone through in your entire life. This was worse than when you dropped out of nursing school, when you broke your arm learning how to skate in front of all the popular girls in middle school, when you’d been turned down in front of a crowd by your middle school crush. It was worse than anything you’d ever experienced.

(You wished you had died right there.)

Unfortunately, God was not intending to strike you down right then. Maybe you could pray to Zues and he’d throw a perfectly aimed lighting bolt right between your eyes. You’d seen on Tiktok that some people prayed to the greek gods, maybe one could grant you a favor and-

Your thoughts were interrupted with the door being swung open, another one of your professors waltzed into the office like he owned the place. Professor Parker - most of his students seemed to call him Peter - burst open the door, phone in his hand held out to Dr. O’Hara.

“Oh. My. God. Miguel. You will not BELIEVE what my baby sitter just sent me.” Not even looking at you, he strode in, pajama clad and scruffy bearded. It was like you weren’t even there, and your jaw snapped shut, teeth clicking with the effort. Dr. O’Hara’s eyes widened.

“You know Mayday? My pride and joy? Your godchild? Look at her. She got cake and it's all over her little face. Hah! Babies don’t know how to eat cake. It’s so adorable…” He chuckled, waving his hand in a relaxed gesture before he noticed that you were also in here, very panicked and on the verge of crying. You… and Miguel having the worst day of his life from the look on his face.

“Uh.. Did I interrupt some-”

“ Nope ,” Dr. O’Hara said quickly, slapping both of his hands down on the desk. He turned to you, eyes wide. “I will continue this conversation with you later.”

Dr. O’Hara raised his brows as if trying to tell you to act normal . You blinked once. He said your name - all formal again. Prof. Parker leaned on his chair, still holding the phone in his direction. Eyeing you with confusion, the ganglier professor frowned, head cocking to the left. Curious.

You needed to play it cool. You wished you exploded on the spot. You’ve seen videos about spontaneous combustion before.

That would be really nice about now.

You squeaked and stood up. “O-Okay Dr. O’Hara I will see you. Next… Class. Later.” You turned on one foot and practically ran out the door.

This was not at all like the sexy TeacherxStudent college romances that you had read on wattpad in middle school. But knowing your luck, your life would turn into a version of “Kidnapped by One Direction” next - you already had the messy bun part down of being a Y/N.

But hey, at least you knew why Web ghosted you now. You kind of wished that it was a prettier, younger girl with better boobs and a cuter pussy, not this. This wasn’t the kind of closure you wanted.

So. You went to your next two classes and then promptly went home and laid down face first on your bed until you heard the phone ping. For a moment you considered not checking… but you groaned and picked up the phone. It was Web. Dr. O’Hara.

5:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hey.”

“ ...Hi. ” - Fawnteeth - 5:12 PM

5:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how else to approach you about this.”

“ I can imagine ” - Fawnteeth - 5:12 PM

“ please tell me for the love of god you didn’t know ” - Fawnteeth - 5:12 PM

5:12 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I only found out Monday. Your tattoo. You don’t normally have it showing.”

“ oh ” - Fawnteeth - 5:12 PM

5:13 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I didn’t mean to make you worry before, I was just trying to figure out how to respond.”

“ ghosting me was not the way to do that ” - Fawnteeth - 5:13 PM

5:13 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Would you have preferred I told you who I was over this chat? I wasn’t sure it was you. Not fully.”

“ I guess that makes sense ” - Fawnteeth - 5:13 PM

5:13 PM - WebRigger2099 - “If it wasn’t you you would have said that name doesn’t mean anything to me and I would have messaged you back right away on here.”

“ ok ” - Fawnteeth - 5:13 PM

5:13 PM - WebRigger2099 - “This wasn’t what either of us expected.”

“ sure fucking hope not ” - Fawnteeth - 5:14 PM

5:15 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I promise I did not intentionally try to woo one of my students. There’s like… 20 different colleges in NY. Thousands of students in each of them.”

“ I have the worst fucking luck on the god damn planet ” - Fawnteeth - 5:15 PM

5:15 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’re telling me. I finally find someone that agrees to my rules and waits patiently for two months before they even meet and this happens.”

5:15 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Look, you can block me, I would honestly expect that. I’m sorry again.”

“ is this what you meant by continuing the conversation? ” - Fawnteeth - 5:15 PM

5:16 PM - WebRigger2099 - “If you want I will help you transfer out to a different class. Afterwards, we can mutually block one another.”

“ I don’t want that. ” - Fawnteeth - 5:16 PM

5:16 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Then what would you like? I want to make this right by you, the last thing I want is for you to feel like I’ve thrown you away.”

“ I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely sure what I want. ” - Fawnteeth - 5:16 PM

5:17 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That’s fine. But I’d like to speak about this again with you, in person. It’s wrong to have a conversation like this over text.”

“ I would appreciate that, please. ” - Fawnteeth - 5:17 PM

5:17 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Okay just… Somewhere private. I don’t need to be raising questions meeting up with a student outside of class.”

“ I think that’s kinda obvious. Where? I don’t want to see professor parker again. ” - Fawnteeth - 5:18 PM

5:16 PM - WebRigger2099 - “He has a bad habit of coming in at terrible times. Highland Park, tomorrow at 5pm?”

“ ok ” - Fawnteeth - 5:19 PM

You turned your phone off for the night, you saw you got another notification from Web, but you didn’t bother reading it. Maybe you should have -, at least then, he’d be the one left on read this time.

#miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut

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