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jayparked · 4 days ago

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revenge for my valentine | kim sunoo

SYNOPSIS: after you and your coworker sunoo are both dumped by your long-term partners — heeseung and karina, who then start dating each other — you’ve had enough of wallowing in self-pity. with the valentine’s day office party just around the corner, you and sunoo decide it’s time to stop feeling sorry for yourselves. instead of letting your exes steal the spotlight, you hatch a plan to make them regret the way they ended things. this valentine’s day, it’s all about having your cake and eating it too

PAIRING: coworker!kim sunoo x female reader ; ft: y/n's ex!heeseung x sunoo's ex!karina

GENRE: smut, slight angst

AU: fake dating, coworkers to ???

RATING: explicit/18+, minors dni

WORD COUNT: 12.1k (gasp snail wrote porn WITH plot)

WARNINGS: semi public sex (they get walked in on), sex at work!, protected sex, big dick sunoo!, sex without orgasming, sunoo rips your underwear, titty fondling, gross makeout sessions, lots of internal conflict

SNAIL TRAIL: just...trust me on this...pls...give it a chance...even if you don't see sunoo in a sexual way like that...just TRUST ME. either way happy valentines day to each and every one of you! if no one asked you to be their valentine, this is my formal confession to you and i'm now your honorary valentine teehee

thank you @dazzlingjaeyun for betaing for me and thank you to @sungbeams for encouraging me and listening to me complain about this for what feels like years. you both have provided me with such endless and selfless support i can't thank either of you enough. ich hab’ dich lieb

The sharp edges of the invitation threaten to prick through your skin as you grip it too tightly, fingers starting to numb from holding this position for so long. The tremble in your hands is hard to miss, your breath hitches and a sharp pain twists in your chest. Heeseung and Karina are skipping about the office, merrily handing out invitations to their fabulous Valentine's Day party they'll be throwing, oblivious to the knife they’ve just stabbed in your heart. Or maybe it was intentional with the way Karina’s fingers lingered on the envelope when she handed it to you, tongue poking past the side of her lips while she looked you up and down before trotting off. Every coworker in sight is approached with boisterous smiles and batting eyelashes from the couple, promises of a fabulous night with endless celebrations of love pouring from their lips as they excitedly rave about the details of the event.

"And we got it approved by the big man to host it here! Everyone has to be there!" Karina’s shrill customer service voice echoes throughout the padded cubicles and your eardrums.

A groan slips past your lips before you can stop it. Normally you'd be down for office parties and festivities, you're a fun gal after all. But the idea of attending a Valentine's Day party that your ex-boyfriend is hosting with his "newer and better other half" just doesn't sound as appealing as one might think.

You desperately want to crumple the invitation in your fist and you outwardly seethe as Karina clutches onto Heeseung's chest while she leans into him with forced laughter, him naturally moving with her, chest rumbling before placing a passionate kiss on the top of her head. In a gross quirky fashion, Karina kicks up one of her feet, giggling with each second Heeseung’s lips are on her skin.

You can’t look away.

Her stupid gorgeous skin that glows when the sun shines through the windows while your skin seems to be greying and wrinkling with each passing day. It’s an over exaggeration, of course, but the jealousy is sinking its claws deeper into your system, stomach lurching as the feeling starts to make you physically unwell.

You hate her stupid skin and her stupid effortless highlights and her stupid perfectly white teeth. The sun should burn her, not make her look like an angel descending upon this earth. Which, she totally acts like on a daily basis, sunshine or not. But you see past her act.

All you can do is remind yourself that you are a better person than your hostile instincts and negative thoughts want you to be. There’s no point in indulging in them anyways, she’s the office’s golden girl after all.

Taking in a deep breath, you slowly exhale through your nose, lowering the invitation painstakingly slow and delicately placing it to the side of your desk. You will show no weaknesses. They will not get to you as much as they probably would have thrived to see you shrink into yourself with self loathing.

A loud huff of breath behind you breaks you from your trance, and you turn around to see your co-worker Sunoo failing at being the better person; his jaw is clenched so tightly that the muscles in his face are twitching, his invitation is in pieces scattered across his lap and desk, some bits still stuck to his clenched fists in between his fingers. His entire body reads fire-angry and pissed off, but there's something recognizable in his eyes that tells you there's more going on deep within his mind. The way his eyes shake and glisten, it’s like looking in a mirror. Seeing the pain you’re feeling reflected on someone who’s no more than a coworker, much less a stranger, ignites a new emotion in the pit of your stomach, one you can’t quite explain yet.

Sunoo is one of the handful of coworkers you’ve worked beside for years but have never exchanged more than ten words with. He’s quiet, tends to his work, and keeps to himself – just like you do. Even when he and Karina were together he shied away from the PDA and loud declarations of public love. The few times you cared to spare a glance in their direction, it always seemed that Sunoo was uncomfortable having all eyes on him with a bright red face paired with fidgeting hands. It was enough to make anyone feel bad for the guy.

Glancing around, you make sure the coast is clear, (AKA: all the attention is still on Heeseung and Karina), and you scoot your chair across the short way to Sunoo's desk.

"Hey, Hellboy,” you whisper just loud enough for him to hear, “extinguish your flames will ya?"

Sunoo's jaw relaxes as he looks at you for a moment before turning back to the mess around him. Closing his eyes, he lets out a more tender sigh, carefully picking up each piece one by one before sprinkling them into the garbage.

"Thanks," he says weakly. "I didn't realize I was expressing myself outwardly like that. Nuts isn't it?" He forces a chuckle, shaking his head as he goes back to watching the couple of the year receive their compliments and adoration from the other office sheep.

"Completely nuts." You agree, scooching closer until your chairs touch and you’re sitting side by side, watching the show alongside him.

"She's acting like we weren't even together. Heeseung seems to be doing that to you too. It's crazy! Weren't you guys together for like three years?-"

"-Three years." You say in unison.

Sighing together, you both lean back into your chairs.

"Karina and I,” falter again, his voice quivers, your own chest tightening at his words, “we were together for four."

The pout in his voice breaks your heart, more so than it already is. And feeling such a strong emotion for someone you barely know surprises you. In all your years with this company you’ve just found it easier to keep to yourself, even more so after your breakup with Heeseung. Why risk getting close to someone again when you’d be forced to be in the same workspace? No one promises to keep a permanent spot in your life, and it was a sentiment you were growing accustomed to. Sunoo was no exception to this rule. You’ve barely interacted. Ever. Nothing more than a simple head nod or raised coffee in acknowledgment has passed between you two. Now, you feel like you need to reach out, rub his arm comfortingly, maybe even offer to take him out to lunch where the two of you can freely be irrationally angry and bitter together. Really, it's just that if you were him, (and you basically are in this situation), you'd want someone to be there for you. Being alone in the midst of a breakup this painful is like soaking a paper cut in lemon juice.

So, stepping out of your comfort zone, you decide to do just what you'd want someone to do for you.

"Let's get lunch together," you blurt out before you’re able to mentally talk yourself out of it.

Albeit slightly confused, Sunoo smiles and kindly accepts your lunch offer. Your body finally relaxes a bit more, relieved with the promise of companionship after so long trying to force isolation on yourself.

"And then he said, 'You're a little too much to handle sometimes.' Who fucking says that!" You yell over the bustle and noise of the restaurant, voice muffled by the decent amount of food still in your mouth.

"He said that? About you?" Sunoo scoffs, throwing his fork down onto his plate and throwing his body back against the seat cushion. "You definitely don't seem like the type to be described as "too much to handle". I'm insulted on your behalf!"

"Thank! You!" You can't help but raise your voice as you throw down your fork as well, the utensil clattering against the now clean plate. "I can't believe Karina gave you such a stupid reason for dumping you. Who just says, 'We were too attached and I need to learn how to be my own person.' then goes around and is immediately in a super clingy relationship? I don't get it. Plus, in my own personal opinion, I wouldn’t have described you guys as too attached. I don’t think I even saw you guys kiss in public. Which makes this thing with Heeseung even more ridiculous!"

Expecting a fiery response, Sunoo surprises you by staying silent. His shoulders drop as he stares into his half-eaten chocolate cheesecake. The intense, angry emotions surging in your own veins quickly simmers down seeing how truly upset and defeated he looks in front of you.

"Hey," you say softly and dip your head down, trying to make eye contact, your hand naturally falling on top of one of his own, "don't worry about them. What she told you was bullshit and does not define who you are as a person. It’s clearly not the real reason she broke up with you. You seem like a great guy and she's going to have to live the rest of her life knowing she let you go." You see a faint smile finally grow on his face, making you smile in return.

"Thanks, Y/n. I wish I was as strong as you are. I wish I could just be angry and secure with myself. But ever since she left…I don’t know. I feel like a hollow shell, like I’m just going through the motions. Everything feels foreign to me now." He sighs and leans one elbow on the table, resting his head in his hand as he breaks up pieces of his cake, not making any motions to actually eat it.

You think about what to say and how honest you want to be. You've only just really started talking with him and talking about your feelings and insecurities has never been easy for you to do. Which was exactly one of the reasons Heeseung claimed during his breakup speech.

And fuck that guy. You can be emotionally vulnerable anytime you want.

"I'm not as tough as I'm making it seem," you admit slowly, "It honestly hurts so much it feels like I can't breathe sometimes, you know? I really thought I had opened up to him, really thought I had someone who loved me truly for who I was…I thought he saw the real me. A part of me almost feels violated knowing how much he knows about me but he just walks around pretending I’m a stranger." You can't help but chuckle softly to yourself. "Don't give them the power to determine your self-worth, okay? We'll get through this together. You're stuck with me now!"

Sunoo looks up and smiles softly at you. Genuinely, you believe that you'll be able to make it through this. And it doesn't hurt having someone else here to understand what you're going through. And maybe, because of your newfound friendship, you’ll be able to get through it faster.

Finally going back to eating his cake with small, intentional bites, Sunoo thinks thoughtfully for a moment, his head tilted in a curious fashion.

"Do you think-," he starts but pauses, scrunching up his mouth to one side as he ponders over what to say. Sighing and looking down once again, he softly says, "Do you think they cheated on us?"

It's a sentence that instantly gives you chills, freezing you in place for a moment because no, you didn't think that, the thought never occurred to you in the first place. Despite how mad you were at Heeseung, he didn't seem like the type to cheat. Plus, the entire time you were being broken up with, Heeseung was throwing out everything you were doing wrong in the relationship and that alone was hard enough to wrap your brain around. Unless that was some tactic of his to deflect onto you and make you believe you were the bad guy instead of him. Now that the thought is in your head, you can't help but rethink situations you may have looked over, arguments that seemed random and sudden, and accusations that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Like the late nights leading up to the breakup, Heeseung stepping out of the room when he got phone calls- something he never used to do before, not asking you to read his texts out loud anymore, and canceling plans with you due to all the new “extra work responsibilities” that suddenly fell into his lap. These things were out of character- yes. But you didn't think twice about it because it just seemed like something everyone did in the midst of a rough patch in a relationship. And, from the bottom of your heart, you believed anything and everything Heeseung said to you. Because what would he gain from lying and manipulating you?

Or maybe your subconscious just couldn't handle it at the time.

"She acted differently...in the end. I just wasn't sure if you knew something I didn’t."

"No," you shake your head, "the thought honestly never crossed my mind. But now that you mention it, he acted differently in the end too."

For a good, heart-bursting moment, you both sit there in silence. You're not sure what's worse: the blinding anger or the heart-wrenching poignancy.

"This is stupid!" Sunoo finally breaks the silence, his fists firmly planting onto the table as he stands, making you jump in surprise. "We didn't do anything wrong! Why are we the ones who have to be sad and cry into delicious cheesecake? They should be the ones crying into a creamy dessert feeling bad about themselves!"

You can't help but laugh. And once you start, it's hard to stop. The entire situation still doesn't feel real to you, so what else can you do except clutch at your ribs as all the air in your body is used to push out this bubbling laughter? Sunoo laughs with you, sitting back down and scooping up the remaining bites of his cheesecake.

"It really is dumb." You finally manage to choke out the words, the giggles slowly dying out between you two. "I wish there was some way to make them feel what we're feeling right now."

Mouth full of food, Sunoo offers a muddled "Isn’t revenge...ya know...bad?"

Reaching for a napkin, you pause and stare at the lines in the fabric, an idea sparking in your mind. Slowly sliding the napkin over to your new friend who accepts it gladly, patting the material along the outside of his mouth. Feeling safe and reassured in Sunoo’s presence, you decide to continue to be bold today and think out loud.

"What if we went to that Valentine's Day party they're hosting?"

Gasping on instinct, Sunoo accidentally inhales part of his cake, spiraling him into a coughing fit. "You want to what? I thought we agreed in the carride here that it would be a terrible idea to go!"

Smiling devilishly, you wait for Sunoo to notice the mischievous glint in your eyes, for him to see that your idea goes beyond just simply attending.

"What have you got planned?" He asks carefully, but there’s a spark in his eyes.

Quirking up one of your shoulders, you play with your fork, spinning the utensil slowly against the point of your finger. "Let's go...together." It was hard trying to appear so casual, mysterious, and nonchalant when all you wanted to do was shout out your idea and jump around the room like a child.

"I'm honestly such a bad guesser and I'm way too intrigued, but at the same time I'm not stupid enough to fall for the casual 'let's go together' so please tell me what you have brewing in that devilish mind of yours, Y/n, please."

Sunoo's excited impatience and flair for the dramatics will definitely make this idea of yours even more…pleasurable.

Dropping the fork, you look around the restaurant before leaning in, as if some spy could be around waiting to obtain all your secrets. Beckoning Sunoo to do the same, he follows suit, leaning towards you until you can see the tiny flakes of freckles painted across his cheekbones.

A smile blooms across your face slowly, courage finally rooting into your chest. "Okay. So, here's the plan..."

The next few days go by so fast it's been hard to fully enjoy the festivities.

And by festivities, of course you mean the fun going on between you and Sunoo.

The office has become so much more enjoyable now that Sunoo is in your life. Every day you come into work wearing one of his sports jackets, graciously draping it on the back of your chair for display after he politely pulls out your seat for you. And every day, after pushing in your chair, Sunoo leaves you a quick, yet passionate kiss on the top of your head, to which you always end up looking up at him with pure joy.

It didn't take long for you two to become the talk of the office.

Like a wave of wildfire, everyone began wondering just when you and Sunoo got together, if it was serious, a playful situation, just how far things have gone. You never paid much attention to office gossip before, but you never would have dreamed it was as juicy as this. Being in the spotlight was never your thing, but this was completely different. It felt different at least.This was all under your control for once, and it’s something you wouldn’t mind getting used to.

Walking around the office with a new wave of confidence feels empowering in a way you haven’t experienced before. Seeing Heeseung's jaw drop to the floor when he sees you, clearly not registering that it was you at first, tastes even more delicious.

It's true. Along with the new relationship, you switched up your wardrobe as well. Oh, and getting a new haircut after a million years of avoiding the salon definitely gave you that extra umph that you needed. And, let’s face it, moving on after being mercilessly dumped isn’t official until you do something with your hair.

"You look..." Sunoo whistles as he not so discreetly eyes you up and down, biting his bottom lip as he does so. "Amazing." Very quickly you see some heads pop out from their cubicles out of your peripheral vision. It makes your smile all the more genuine.

Acting like you think the two of you are all alone in the office lobby, you giggle and lean into Sunoo. "Thank you for buying this outfit for me. It fits me in all the right places." You wink and pull at his tie slightly, turning around and walking away with it slipping through your fingers.

All of the heads quickly return to their computer screens, pretending to not have heard or seen a single thing.

It’s almost too easy.

Heeseung's cubicle is near the front of the lobby with yours and Sunoos around the middle of the floorplan. Without a doubt, Heeseung's head had to have been one of the ones who was watching you just now.

Gliding across the floor with Sunoo quickly following behind you, your heels click delightfully against the tile floor. In a split minute decision, instead of trying to discreetly glance into Heeseung's cubicle like you initially wanted to, you decide to turn back towards Sunoo and reach for his hand, giggling all along the way as you focus on him and only him.

Sunoo grasps your hand tightly in his, his free hand pocketed in his tightly fit slacks. You weren't the only one with the wardrobe upgrade. If you're being completely honest, he won the makeover competition. Your new partner in crime has left behind his cute blonde locks and now sports chic raven black hair, his bangs framing his face in a way that makes his deep amber brown eyes stand out more so than ever before. And to think he used to cover those sweet irises with hazel contacts…you really hope he’s thrown them out, honestly. Sunoo looks like a completely different person now, and yet, he seems more like himself than ever before. His smile is soft yet confident, his gaze fond as he watches you pull him to his cubicle.

It baffles you that this is the same Sunoo who's been sitting behind you for all these years.

Throwing out the cheap, stiff, button up collared shirts, Sunoo now adorns some fancy name brand sweaters, sporks jackets, and silk button-ups: all items you thrifted with him during your weekend spent scheming together. He looks like a million bucks and ever since the makeover he's been getting attention from strangers in every place he’s walked into, rightfully so. You’ve also gotten your fair share of head turns and whistles from folks on the street and each one only adds more fire to your steps.

It's been a confidence boost for the both of you, to say the least.

Once you're near your own desks, Sunoo holds onto your fingers instead of letting you go, pulling you quickly back into him so fast that your hand automatically flutters against the swell of his chest while he holds you tightly.

"I'll miss you," he mutters softly for only you to hear, bringing up your hand and kissing your knuckles before guiding you to your chair to do his usual routine. Chills dance across your skin as your mind panics for a moment, briefly forgetting that this is all for show.

None of it is real.

"I'll miss you more," you recover with a purr. Then, for good measure, ditching the nervousness echoing in the back of your mind, you let out a louder Shhh! noise followed by an array of giggles, pretending that Sunoo has just whispered something not very office appropriate into your ear, resulting in immediate whispers surrounding your not so private cubicle space. Exactly what you wanted. You let your finger linger down Sunoo’s chest, stopping just above his belt line. You swivel your chair around to face your screen, logging on without giving him a second glance. Unbeknownst to you, Sunoo lingers in the middle of the hallway staring after you with a mixed, unreadable expression.

This was going all too smoothly.

Throughout the days you and Sunoo manage to find ample time to grossly flirt with one another around the office. One of your favorite hobbies now was deciding where exactly you wanted to meet up and get a little frisky.

Your favorite spot by far is easily the copy room, however cliche it may be. Having Sunoo pressed up against your body as his lips roam your neck, your back either against the copy machine itself or the counter just adjacent to it, it was all too much fun.

Like today, for instance, things might have gotten a little too out of hand.

Sunoo's hands roam your body from your hips all the way up to your shoulders as he murmurs things too quietly for you to even understand. Well, let’s be honest, it’s definitely not necessarily because they were too quiet, but because you were so distracted by just how electrifying his touch feels against your skin. It was never meant to be this serious. A touch here, a kiss there, outward flirting and such. But now you're starting to think it's becoming more of a game between the two of you instead of your typical fake dating office romance you set up to make your ex's jealous.

Technically, you didn't need to start this game so early before the party: it's only a week away now. You were way too eager to put your plan into action, and that meant sacrificing the workplace and those that worked around you, subjecting them all to your very sickening over the top displays of affection.

And perhaps a smidge of your own sanity has also been sacrificed within the mix but you’re not ready to admit that just yet.

You don't even remember why you were in the copy room to begin with. Usually, you try to plan it so either Heeseung or Karina walks in. Lately, it's been everyone but.

Your breath becomes heavier as Sunoo's tongue swipes up along the backside of your ear, a little spot he quickly finds brings out some not so safe for work sounds from you.

Wanting so desperately to enjoy the attention your body is getting, you can't help but fight against the bliss. You're losing sight of the plan ahead. And you can't help but notice just how naturally you're starting to respond to Sunoo's antics.

"Sunoo!" You gasp, glancing at the clock above his head, not realizing just how hot and heavy it was getting between you two. "I think we need to cool it a little bit. We've been in here for fifteen minutes now and no one has even come close to this room."

He chuckles under his breath against your neck, a slow, deep raspy sound that hums along your skin in a way that makes you shudder. "Sorry. Seems I got carried away."

Without hesitation, he backs away from you and you can't deny that your first thought is how much you want him back, to continue to feel his touch against your skin. The way he bites his bottom lip while staring at your own slightly smudged lipstick stained ones has your heart fluttering inside your chest. A whirlwind of confused thoughts tornado rampantly inside your mind as you watch him clear his throat, the raspy voice filled with depth and lust now gone, his casual and naturally cheery voice returning.

"I'm thinking we came on too strong. Now everyone is afraid of being around us." Sunoo ponders outwardly, a finger slowly tapping against his chin as he glances through the small window on the door. How the hell is he able to be so sexy and passionate one minute and easily go back to acting like nothing happened?

Gulping, you clutch your arms to your chest, suddenly feeling cold without Sunoo next to you. “What do we do now?”

“I guess we can get back to work, there’s plenty of time for more shenanigans later.” He winks and walks out of the room, leaving you wondering just when did he become so carefree and confident meanwhile you’ve become meek and insecure.

A spur of the moment shopping spree sprung upon you and Sunoo the night before the Valentine's Day party. After all the scheming and planning, the one thing you forgot to plan for was what you would be wearing for the event; thus blossoming said scheming and planning. Even when you both upgraded your wardrobes before, it was all simple business casual outfits for the office, not night out, attention grabbing attire.

Sunoo calls you in a panic, words blurring together through the phone as you try to make out what he's trying to say. Eventually, you're able to put two and two together.

"Holy shit we forgot our party outfits!" You exclaim dumbfoundedly.

So, that's how you got here – sprinting down isles with your hands out batting against the edges of the clothes with a large excited grin on your face. Some of the fabrics feel soft against your fingertips as the wind blows through your hair. As you look over to Sunoo, you can't help but to smile more, not even noticing the gross feeling of old velvet pants sticking against the groove of your fingertips. Any other day, your body would have recoiled in disgust. But somehow, staring into Sunoo's earthy brown eyes, everything has become manageable.

As the night continues and fashion show after fashion show occurs, you start to think about how you look at and feel around Sunoo. He's doing everything he can to stay positive in this miserable situation you've both been thrown into, and yet, you find yourself comforted in his presence. While comforting is the best word to describe it, it's also starting to become…confusing. Why does your stomach flip when you catch him looking at you? Why has he become the first person you think of when you wake up and the last thing on your mind before you fall asleep? Is it possible he could be thinking the same about you? It's definitely not an appropriate time for you to jump back into a relationship. Come to think of it, you barely know much about the guy other than what you two share in relationship baggage.

The rest of the night you seem to move in slow motion, caught up in your thoughts and not really feeling present in the moment anymore. You catch Sunoo sneaking glances at you and it seems he's trying extra hard to be funny with all the ridiculous outfits he's put together, only feeling satisfied and moving on after getting a genuine smile on your face or hearing you chuckle softly.

"How about this!" Sunoo jumps out of the dressing room with arms wide open, wearing a bright green feathered boa hanging loosely off his shoulders, red and yellow vertical striped pants, and a shirt that definitely could have belonged to a middle-aged man who loved to go fishing every weekend. All you can really muster is a soft stare, your eyes not quite focusing on the ridiculous clown outfit in front of you. There's a certain disconnection you feel with yourself even though it feels like you should be happy, almost like a large rain cloud is augmenting over your head.

"You didn't even try to smile this time," Sunoo’s entire demeanor softens instantly, the performance mask he was trying to put on for you slipping away. He walks towards the loveseat you're sitting on and joins you, his shoulder lightly bumping against yours, "what's on your mind?"

Not exactly ready to admit your confused feelings about him, if there are even feelings there at all, you decide to talk about the only other thing that’s been disturbing your thoughts: Heeseung.

You let out a quiet sigh, gaze dropping to your hands that are resting in your lap, “I just wish it were easier, you know? Moving on…”

Sunoo huffs and juts out his bottom lip sympathetically, quickly coming to your rescue by wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You let him console you, lowering your head onto his chest as he rubs comforting circles on the side of your arm, the smell of his cologne tickling your nose in a pleasant way.

“It’s okay. I’ve been having a hard time getting over Karina too. It seems that no matter how hard I try, my mind always drifts back to her. I still don’t really understand how she could just jump into a relationship with Heeseung and be in love so quickly. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Do you think they could be faking too? Like us?” The words come tumbling past your lips before you can properly process them, your stomach turning and twisting into all sorts of complicated knots. Why would you and Sunoo get dumped only for them to rub it in your face on purpose? None of it really makes sense.

“I’m not sure,” Sunoo sighs, still rubbing his hand up and down your arm, “I honestly wouldn’t put it past Karina to do it. There were more than a handful of times when we’d be around a bunch of people and she’d be all over me, couldn’t leave my side, doting and praising me more than I knew how to handle. Then, when we’d get home, she’d want her space and do her own thing, pushing me away even at the smallest contact. It was super weird and messed with my head for a bit,” Sunoo sighs and rests his head on top of yours, pulling you closer, “I think she just needs everyone to see how loved she is. I don’t know. She has her own insecurities she still needs to deal with I guess.”

Nodding your head into Sunoo’s chest, you also reflect on the way Heeseung treated you when you were in front of other people versus how he treated you at home. And you can’t really think of an obvious difference. PDA was never within his comfort zone, but he’d still hold your hand and kiss you in front of people. He was an amazing boyfriend to you up until the moments near the end when he slowly started withdrawing. Seeing him be so over the top with someone new, especially in front of coworkers, has definitely been a culture shock, but you just wrote it off as people acting differently depending on who they’re with. Which is totally normal, right?

“Sometimes it’s nice to think that they want to see us upset, doesn’t it?” Sunoo smiles and pats your head teasingly, standing up and offering a hand out to you. “Kinda shows us that we mean a whole lot more to them than they’re willing to admit. C’mon. Let’s find you a killer outfit and show Heeseung exactly what he’s missing.”

“Sunoo. Has anyone ever told you that you could have a career in fashion?”

You keep staring at yourself in the mirror, looking at every angle possible of the attire you have on. Sunoo picked out everything himself, more than proving that his taste is far beyond more exquisite than all of your project runway knowledge and late night TikTok haul compilations combined. Right away in the thrift store, he commanded that blue is the only color he wants to see you in, none of that typical pink or red Valentine’s Day bullshit. “We need to stand out in all the best and worst of ways. Plus, blue is one thousand percent your color.” He had said to you, reassuring you along the way that he’ll find something for you both to match in.

And he was absolutely right. Blue is most definitely your color. The way it brings out the natural shine in your hair and even that small spark in your eyes, you’ve never been so confident with just a shade before.

The style of the dress itself is something you would expect to see in an over chic event after party with just enough elegance to make it eye-catching and eye-ogling worthy; pools of tool and fabric cascade down your legs, a long slit going up until your mid-thigh. The top half of the dress is strapless and slightly exposing your cleavage a little too well, the swell of your breasts swaying with every breath you take, yet still snugly in place. You protested heavily on the dress in the store, it needed more than a little TLC with some rips and tears in the skirt and some stains on the front. But Sunoo had insisted and told you he had a plan in mind, all you had to do was trust him.

In less than two hours after leaving the store, Sunoo had successfully stitched and sewed his way to a beautiful masterpiece. You couldn’t even tell this was the same dress he had picked out in the thrift store.

Fondly, he smiles at you as he looks at what he’s created, a hint of blush dusting over his cheeks as he softly admits that, while he was growing up, his mother and older sister would make their own clothes to save some money. Naturally, Sunoo picked up on what they had learned and actively participated alongside them.

“One year, for my mother’s birthday, my sister and I both worked on this really grand dress that matched the one on her childhood doll. It took us nearly three months to make. I had never seen my mom ugly cry before until that moment. I remember her hugging my sister and I so tightly I almost passed out!” He chuckles lightly, fingers ghosting along the fabric of your dress as he thinks back on the memory, but his smile slips, just for a moment. “I used to be made fun of for this stuff, but nothing feels as good as seeing someone’s face light up when they put on something you’ve made. It’s the same face you have on right now actually.” He stands up from his kneeling position and taps the underside of your chin lightly with his thumb. Goosebumps ripple across your skin and you can’t help but turn your gaze away from him, afraid of what your eyes might give away.

Finally regaining your composure, you turn and smile back at him, feeling an overwhelming sense of comfort between the two of you. The warmth from his words and the soft smile on his face is something you’re not quite used to; your connection seems to run deeper than you were ultimately expecting it to be. And you like the feeling of it.

“I’ll kick anyone’s ass if they make fun of you,” you say boldly, hands on your hips for emphasis.

Sunoo throws a pillow at your back, the both of you laughing like old high school best friends.

Pacing back and forth in your living room, you can’t help but consider that it’s a strong possibility you might have been stood up. Sunoo said he would be at your apartment a good hour or two before the party started at 7pm so you could help each other get ready, hyped, and mentally prepared for the night ahead. It’s currently 6:48pm.

Right now you are definitely not ready. You are definitely not hyped.

Glancing at the clock on your phone only makes you more anxious as you fight the urge to call him for the fourteenth time. The party has started by now and tears threaten to spill from your eyes. It’s not like you wanted to go to the dumb party anyways. Making an appearance was supposed to be a fun way to get under Heeseung’s skin, prove to him that you didn’t lose the breakup, that you weren’t a depressed mess who couldn’t show her face on the day of love.

This didn’t seem in character for Sunoo. Unless, you dreadfully think, you said something that offended him. You stumble towards your couch, sitting down promptly and burying your face in your hands. Maybe he caught a whiff of your little crush on him. Or maybe he just couldn’t bear to see Karina on such a romantic holiday night clinging to her new fling. Your thoughts are spiraling out of control, vision blurring as the tears finally start to spill. You take off your heels in a defeated huff, tempting the idea of shucking them into the neighbor's shrubs to get them completely out of your presence.

All you can muster is another defeated glance at your window, heels still in one hand, and laugh to yourself when all you can see is the flickering street lights momentarily illuminating a very drab and empty street. This is what you get, huh? You wanted revenge and karma did not feel like taking its time in giving you exactly what you deserve.

Thoughts of Heeseung and Karina slow dancing under paper hearts spinning on a string from the ceiling leaves you feeling emptier than ever before.

As a large teardrop drips down your cheek, bright headlights shine into your window. Your front door is slightly ajar; your hopeless attempts at letting Sunoo know he was welcome to let himself in. All it did, though, was let in an icy draft, the cold air clawing at your skin.

Sunoo steps out of his car with a bright smile that quickly falters as soon as he sees you through the window, head hanging low and slowly brushing the back of your hand under your eyes.

“Y/n?” Sunoo pushes the front door open and rushes over to you. He’s wearing his blue suit, the one he picked out to match yours, and he looks so damn good it makes you want to cry even more. His hair is styled so that part of his forehead is showing and his face is glowing, almost dewy from his pristine skin care routine. You try to meet his gaze confidently, desperate to push your feelings to the side. But, as soon as you see the way his eyes look at you with concern, emotions overtake you and the tears flow more consistently before you’re able to even attempt to swallow them down.

“Are you okay? Oh, Y/n what’s wrong? What happened?” Sunoo sits next to you and pulls your head to his chest, wrapping one arm around the back of your shoulders while the other one wraps around the front of your body. You clutch your hands to your face, embarrassed beyond belief that you’re sobbing on Valentine’s Day in front of your fake date of the night.

You think about mentioning Heeseung and Karina, or the fact that you really don’t want to go to this party anymore. Instead, what softly comes out is, “I thought you weren’t going to show up…”

Pushing you back slowly so he can see your face, Sunoo takes your hands gently in his own, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles while he looks into your tear filled eyes. “I would never leave you behind.”

It feels like your heart plummets down a ten-story building and all you want to do is melt into him.

Continuing before you have the chance to get ahead of yourself and do something you regret, Sunoo unknowingly interrupts your thoughts, “Did my texts not go through? I said we got the time mixed up. The party starts at eight, not seven. I also stopped by to get you this-” He looks around at the ground beside him for a moment, then motions for you to hold on while he trots back to his car.

“Close your eyes!” He yells while laughing his way back through the doorway. You wipe your eyes one last time before placing your hands over them.

You hear his footsteps on the carpet as he gets closer. It’s probably some flowers, a corsage even, something basic and traditional to the holiday that everyone’s fake date thinks of getting them before they attempt to make their ex’s jealous.

There’s movement on the top of your head and a tickling feeling against your neck that makes you flinch, nearly opening your eyes before being stopped by Sunoo. “It’s just me, hold on.” He places something on your head, adjusting it and fixing your hair.

“Perfect!” He steps back. “Go ahead. Open your eyes.”

Slowly, you remove your hands from your face and look around. Sunoo is standing in front of you holding a small compact mirror. Leaning forward, you look until you can see your reflection and the small, shiny pendant nestled around your neck.

“I saw it on my way over here in some small shop window. I just had to get it for you. It really brings your whole outfit together! – And your eyes.” He whispers the last part. Sunoo’s smile is big and warm, rendering you speechless. But that doesn’t stop you from opening your mouth to at least make an attempt to express your gratitude .

“No need to thank me!” Sunoo puts the compact mirror in his pants pocket, reaching for your hand to pull you up from the couch. “Seeing everyone’s reaction to how amazing you look is all the thanks I need.”

A couple minutes are spent assisting you with getting your makeup back in place and adjusting your hair; Sunoo works tentatively with a type of care and attention to detail you’ve never seen from a man before. He murmurs a flourish of praises and compliments, all ones that have you feeling giddy and shy.

Once everything is in order, he walks you to the passenger side of his car and opens the door for you, assisting with your dress to make sure not a single string of fabric gets caught.

“Thank you, Sunoo,” you whisper just before he closes the door. There’s a shine behind his eyes as he nods his head softly, his smile still unwavering.

A nice intense pep talk goes down in Sunoo’s car before you’re both able to walk up to the office hand in hand. You had thought you would be a shaking mess of nerves, but instead, it’s Sunoo’s hand that clutches yours tightly, a slight murmur disrupting his cool demeanor.

All of the office desks have been pushed against one wall with cupid cutouts and (as you predicted earlier) paper hearts hanging from the ceiling. A red light is cast throughout the room giving it a nice sultry feel as light music plays over the speakers. You never realized just how big the office space actually was until seeing everything cleared out the way it is now. Easily seventy or so people could fit in here for a party. Instead, there’s only about thirty of you.

Everything looked so magical, and yet, it feels oddly…prom-like.

You and Sunoo are fashionably late (as planned in the pep talk), so as soon as the front door opens with a loud sha-shunk sound, all eyes are on you two.

“Game on.” You smirk, feeling as ready as ever. Utilizing your nerves as a strength instead of weakness, you hold your head high, keeping your gaze soft while you look at Sunoo.

“Sunoo! Y/n!” Karina’s usual peppy voice wavers over the music as her wide eyes scans your bodies. “You’re here!” There’s a hint of a question in her tone, her eyes narrowing now.

The crowd parts slightly, leaving a space so Heeseung and Karina can greet you at the front door.

“Oh, we just couldn’t miss the party of the century!” You laugh, clinging to Sunoo’s upper arm.

“The chance to show off this beautiful lady? Wouldn’t pass that up for anything!” Sunoo is saying this in response to Karina, but his eyes are only on you. He gives you a wink for good measure, leaning in slightly until the tips of your noses touch. It’s easy to smile at his antics, forgetting for a moment that this is supposed to be pretend.

“Yeah, like anyone would describe Y/n as a party person,” Heeseung quips with a scoff. Your eyebrows furrow, glancing over to your ex for the first time.

You can’t deny how great he looks in his pastel pink suit that perfectly matches Karina’s revealing party dress. It accents every curve of his muscles in his arms, his suit jacket draping on his wide shoulders with ease and flare. Heeseung’s face is flushed with what has to be the effects of alcohol, his cheeks and nose lightly dusted with pink. You can’t help but remember the moments you would drink together, giggling as you leaned into each other’s bodies. Whispered promises would pass between the two of you between karaoke songs and midnight snacks; all small yet meaningful memories you thought you had successfully buried a while ago.

This might be harder than you were expecting.

“You never really were the type of person to be able to think on their feet, huh, Heeseung?” You chuckle knowing that he really was trying to hurt your feelings in front of everyone. Heeseung glowers at you, his lips a fine, thin line.

Karina looks like she wants to say something, but instead grabs Heeseung’s elbow and turns him around, heading back to the middle of the dance floor.

Without looking, you and Sunoo give each other a satisfactory low-five.

“So, snacks? Drinks? Or dance floor?” Sunoo asks.

“Oh, definitely snacks. I see a bowl of chips calling my name!” You not so graciously speed walk over to said bowl and pick it up, cradling it the same way one would a newborn baby. Sunoo picks up a large pink cupcake and runs his finger around the frosting, sucking on the digit slowly as he observes the crowd before him. (somewhere in another universe Sunghoon starts shaking)

Turning to crowdwatch with him, you recoil at the sight before you: Karina is bent forward slightly, wiggling her ass against Heeseung’s crotch. The co-workers around them cheer, raising their glasses as they continue to jump to the music. Heeseung doesn’t even look slightly embarrassed, a smug smile plastered on his face while he dances along.

“You know, if I would have even dropped low like that to pick up a can of soup or something that fell on the floor, he’d hide his face in shame,” you say with a mouthful of chips.

Sunoo scoffs, shoving the remainder of the cupcake into his mouth. “Ehdgeeut.”

“I bet we could out dance them,” you say more confidently than you actually feel. Without waiting for Sunoo’s response, you grab his sticky cupcake hand and drag him to the dance floor.

Relaxing as much as you can, you try to empty your mind of all fears and doubts and mimic what you’ve seen in movies and music videos, using Sunoo more as a prop than an actual dance partner when you grab his shoulders and move your hands down his body.

At first, no one notices you two. But as more co-workers break to grab refreshments, they come back and form a crowd around you two instead of mindlessly migrating back to Heeseung and Karina.

And eventually, that left the pair without an audience to flaunt in front of.

Sunoo is getting more and more into the movements, confidence and ease dripping throughout his aura. It’s beautiful watching him smile and enjoy himself, not even noticing the people around him. It definitely helps you feel more comfortable in the spotlight as well. Pulling you closer, Sunoo lifts up one of your legs and hooks it at his hip, one of his hands roaming up your thigh sensually slow. Your heart races as his face gets closer to your own, both your foreheads connecting and it feels like you’re breathing the same air with the way the warmth of his breath ghosts over your lips.

At this point, you know Heeseung and Karina are watching you. The heat of their gaze shooting like daggers at your back is hard to ignore.

The song ends right as Sunoo pulls you closer and kisses you. It isn’t like any of the fake, playful kisses you’ve exchanged in the office previously. This one is laced with something sweet and earnest, a want you can’t even begin to explain. Everything fades away in the background – the music, the crowd, Heeseung. Melting into Sunoo’s kiss is all your body wants to focus on.

And you don’t want to stop kissing him. You don’t want this feeling to end.

“Get a room!” Someone yells from the back, the crowd erupting into laughter as some shield their eyes away from you.

“Maybe we will,” Sunoo huffs, his eyes darkened by his dilated pupils. It’s a look you haven’t seen from him before, but you don’t have time to process it. Hastily grabbing your hand, you’re both running out of the room and into one of the office hallways.

And as you run, you catch a glimpse of Heeseung’s wide, regretful eyes, his shoulders sagging into his suit jacket.

Quite the victory if you’ve ever seen one.

Giggles and shuffling feet is all you can hear throughout the hallway, you and Sunoo carelessly stumbling against each other while you try to walk, stopping here and there to aggressively makeout. The cool air is barely noticeable against the warm touches from Sunoo's hands around your body. Each time his skin presses against yours it leaves a ripple of warmth throughout your body, so much so that it feels like you'll never be cold again. Something you wouldn’t mind giving up if it meant being able to stay like this forever. Is this what it feels like to let someone back in again? Or are you just excited by the attention? Could this really go beyond your unwritten pact?

Your hands grasp the edges of his suit firmly as you momentarily take control, pushing him carefully against the wall so you can kiss him again. Sunoo smiles into the kiss, chuckling deep from his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist. His lips are soft and familiar now and it's become a little too easy to get lost in them.

At times like this, you forget this is supposed to be pretend.

Pushing those thoughts away, you continue to dive in.

These kisses start to feel different than the ones from before. Originally, they were nothing more than quick pecks, not even two seconds long at their most intense. Now, they're slow, both of your lips molding together in slow, heated motion, giving you plenty of time to let your hands roam with minds of their own. Your bodies start to connect like puzzle pieces, like the way your hip naturally leans into his or the way your chest rises up flush against his own. Every time Sunoo's tongue barely sneaks past the edges of his mouth sends a warm chill that blooms deep in your chest, rippling until you feel it in the tips of your fingers. You almost want to sigh in relief the way one would sigh when sinking into a nice warm bath after a long day.

Heeseung never kissed you like this.

Slow and steady turns into fast and desperate. All of a sudden what you're getting is just not enough. And it seems you’re not the only one feeling this way. Sunoo pulls at the fabric of your dress, guiding you away from the wall so he can lead you into one of the conference rooms, the very conference room Heeseung and Karina will be coming up to in order to exchange Valentine's Day gifts according to what their flyers said at least.

You can't help but wonder if this was done on purpose, or just a cruel coincidence.

Once you're past the threshold, Sunoo's in control. He breaks apart the kiss and turns you around, lightly pushing the small of your back until standing next to the conference table. His hands find your hips again, pushing you further until you’re leaning against the table now. His hands continue moving up and down your body for a moment, hesitating before boldly moving up to your breasts and squeezing lightly.

"Is this okay?" He murmurs, hiding his face with a kiss on your neck, just under your ear as he massages your chest.

It felt more than okay. Your mind is turning into white static with the built-up attention. Heeseung never asked you if this was okay, always just acting first, thinking later. Hearing the nervous yet caring words from Sunoo ignites a fire inside you that you weren't away was waiting to be lit.

Composure slipping, you fight back a moan that forms in your throat when he squeezes your chest a little more aggressively than before. "Mhmm yeah, this is okay." Chuckling, you let your eyes flutter shut, somehow making the experience even more enjoyable this way.

Wasting no time, Sunoo shucks off his suit jacket in one clean motion, tossing it aside carelessly and diving back into your lips.

“Nuh-uh,” you moan against his lips, pulling at his button up shirt, “off.”

Groaning with a pouted smile, Sunoo breaks away and slowly starts to unbutton his shirt.

“Are you punishing me now?” You laugh, already missing the feeling of him on your skin.

“I can go slower than this,” he plays, the tip of his tongue poking past the side of his lips. His fingers start to move slower as he glares at you through his bangs. It’s a devilishly hot look, one that makes you gulp, suddenly feeling a bit like a prey being observed by a predator.

Normally you wouldn’t mind a little strip tease or the build of anticipation. But right now, you’re anxious to get him back on you. The longer he stands there in front of you, the more your mind starts to overthink, and you want nothing more than to not think for once and just do.

Sunoo is only halfway down his shirt, gaze still flirting and testing. The more loose his shirt becomes, the more enticing it is to just grab a fistful of it and pull him closer.

And so you do.

You take his now loose tie into your fist and pull him close, his face now inches from yours. Sunoo’s breathing is heavy, his chest moving up and down almost as quick as your heart is beating.

You move in like you’re about to kiss him, but stop short just as your lips barely brush against his.

“I don’t like playing games,” you whisper, showing your teeth as you smile.

“Funny,” Sunoo murmurs back, grabbing onto your hips and flipping you around until your ass is flushed against his crotch, his tie still laced between your fingers, “Didn’t seem that way when you asked me to play along with your little scheme.”

All you can manage is a soft sigh, allowing yourself to relax against his body and letting his tie slip past your fingers, grinding your hips against his hardening length.

This is all a game, you remind yourself. Or, at least, it started out as one.

Sunoo unzips the back of your dress, leaving a trail of kisses against your skin along the way. If there is a world record for the most amount of times a person has shuddered with chills in the span of ten seconds, well, you would have beaten that record by a mile.

And although you enjoy each kiss and each touch, it’s all going far too slow.

Using what goods you have in the back, you push out with enough force to back Sunoo up a step. It was just enough for you to be able to spin around to face him and drop your dress to your feet.

“Wow,” Sunoo gasps, “you are absolutely beautiful.” His eyes roam over your body without hesitation, not even remotely shy when they land on your chest, appreciating the very sexy lace bra you bought just for today.

“Thanks,” you raise an eyebrow confidently, a playful smirk adorning your lips, “I showed you mine, now show me yours.”

Without question, Sunoo moves to undo his belt, still moving rather slowly as he unbuttons his pants.

Your eyes follow his hands as they move back up his legs. Eyeing his frontal area, you’re surprised to see that he isn’t hard yet like you thought he was, his boxers completely smooth and tentless.

You try not to show your disappointment, but Sunoo notices right away.

Bashfully, he grips the back of his neck with one hand, looking down and apologizing. “I’m just kind of nervous is all.”

“No, no! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! I was just a little surprised! If you’re not ready we don’t have to do anything.” It suddenly feels very cold in this room, the weight of something unspoken hanging eerily around you.

Sunoo smiles again, this time more innocently than before, “I want to. Trust me.”

Closing the distance between you two, you kiss him on the lips slowly, an invitation for him to take the lead.

It doesn’t take him nearly as long as you had anticipated.

Sunoo’s mouth moves feverishly against yours, that fire instantly igniting back between your two bodies. His hand grips the side of your neck gently, his thumb resting just behind your jawline. It isn’t until your fingernails trail the edge of his spine that his grip hardens slightly, taking your breath away.

Sunoo’s free hand moves to your back to unclasp your bra, doing so in an impressive one try. His hand is instantly on one of your breasts, massaging them roughly. It’s a sharp contrast to how he was touching you earlier, not like you really mind.

That is all the touch you need before you’re ready for him. Your arousal is impossible to ignore at this point, feeling the way your panties stick uncomfortably to your skin. No more buildup is needed.

Your thumb slips past the hem of his boxers, pulling them down and away from his skin. Sunoo steps out of them now completely naked before you. As you continue to kiss, you can’t help but chance a peek at what he has lying below.

And what he has does not disappoint.

“Wow!” You gasp, “Karina left you for Heeseung? No wonder she seems more high strung than usual.”

Laughing in surprise, Sunoo stops his ministrations and rests his head on your shoulder in embarrassment. His erection pokes at your thigh teasingly, enough to make you feel dizzy all over again.

“And then you,” he returns softly, “Karina may be pretty, but she’s also flatter than a piece of cardboard. You?” He whistles and manages to bring his head back up, eyeing you up and down while biting his bottom lip.

“He’s stupid,” Sunoo concludes.

“And she’s an idiot.” You smile.

“Enough about them,” Sunoo takes both of his hands and grasps your panties right below your navel. With one swift motion, he rips the fabric in two and is moving you back to the table, back to the original position you were in, “this is about us.”

There’s no time to appreciate just how incredibly sexy that was of him. In his hand, Sunoo shows a condom he must have pulled out of his pocket earlier. You honestly don’t remember seeing him do it, but you nod your head quickly up and down. Taking it between his teeth, Sunoo rips the plastic and promptly places the condom on the tip of his cock, unrolling it carefully. Your thighs tingle with anticipation, your body yearning to be filled by him.

Spreading your legs out so that your feet rest on the tops of the neighboring chairs, you nod your head once more for Sunoo. He awkwardly brushes his tip against your clit, making you wince at the sudden contact. Apologizing under his breath, Sunoo continues to gather your slick, coating the condom before lining himself up to your hole.

Slowly, he inches the tip of his cock inside.

Sunoo’s arms are placed on either side of your hips and you use his stance to grip his biceps, holding on for dear life as you try to mentally prepare for the massiveness that’s entering your body.

Sunoo guides his cock up and down your folds just once before diving right in.

The stretch is absolutely delicious, immediately your eyes roll back with bliss. He’s only able to get inside of you a quarter of the way before he slides back out, repeating the process until he’s able to inch further and further, deeper and deeper. For a moment it seemed like he wouldn’t be able to bottom out in you. But if you’ve learned anything from this time you’ve spent with Sunoo, it’s that this man is determined.

One final thrust and it feels like he’s pushing straight through your G-spot.

You’re out of breath as you cling to him more aggressively, not able to even comprehend what it would feel like for him to pound into you with everything he’s got if this is how it feels to just have him slowly push into you.

Sunoo searches for your mouth, planting a long, deep kiss on your lips as he slowly starts to rock his hips back and forth. There’s a tense hunger from his lips that you try to match, but the pleasure you’re feeling down below is distracting your every thought.

After a few moments pass, the strong build-up you initially felt seems to simmer out.

Despite the intense need for one another, there's something between you and Sunoo that's different from what you had with Heeseung, something missing: spark.

The thought hits you. Hard. So much so that it stuns you into a motionless blob. In retrospect, it isn't even that big of a revelation, but it's enough to put some ease on your mind and brings you some much needed clarity. Despite how much you wanted this, despite how good it feels, it also unintentionally feels…weird.

"Y/n. Are you okay?" Tentatively, Sunoo stops for a moment and makes sure to meet your eyes.

Opening your mouth to respond, instead of words an eruption of laughter takes over you growing gradually until your entire body shakes with it. You clasp your hands over your mouth to try to contain it, but it only seems to worsen the giggles.

"I'm so sorry, Sunoo," you finally manage, "I just realized— I don't think…” you take a deep breath, ignoring the screaming voice in your head telling you to shut up, “I don’t think I like you in this way."

There's a moment where Sunoo and you both look down at where your body's currently connected and intertwined and for a second you're afraid that you've hurt his feelings or possibly even offended him.

He inhales slowly, releasing the air quickly soon after with an 'ahhh' sound. "Oh thank god! I wasn't sure if it was just me, but I started to realize the same thing a few minutes ago."

Laughter bubbles from your throat naturally, your lips vibrating as you try to hold it in. But, it’s no use. Sunoo sees you laughing and he can’t help but do the same.

“We should probably get out of here before we make an even bigger fool of ourselves. We can get Chinese? Hang out at my place and talk and watch a movie? I feel like we should talk.”

You’re about to verbally agree when a blinding light interrupts your thoughts.

“Oh my god!” A squeaky voice trills by the doorway, echoing throughout the room.

You and Sunoo freeze in place; he hasn’t even had the chance to remove his cock from your cunt.

The intense drowning feeling consumes you as your vision finally comes to focus. At the doorway are Heeseung and Karina.

“Y/N?” Heeseung’s voice cracks in disbelief at the sight in front of him, eyes wide with shock.

Panic sets in. How stupid was this idea? Who thought you should go to a work party, strip naked, and start having sex with one of your coworkers on the table in one of the conference rooms just to get back at your ex boyfriend?

If it were just Heeseung and Karina, your embarrassment would still be there, but at a much more containable and manageable amount.

The entire office staff on the other hand...you were not prepared for that.

“Everyone leave!” Heeseung yells, turning his back to you and ushering the other coworkers away. As he’s doing so, Sunoo slips out of you, running over to where your clothes were discarded and throwing them at you with haste as he rushes to dress the lower half of himself.

Your arms feel numb as you pull your dress over your head, not even bothering with your bra or ripped panties.

Heeseung returns and closes the door. Karina is covering her eyes, her back turned to you and Sunoo slightly as she’s muttering something to herself. Her perfect black hair cascades into a curtain to shield her eyes from your nakedness.

“This is going to sound so cliche,” Sunoo starts after too many seconds of awkward silence pass between the four of you, “but this is not what it looks like.”

Karina makes an abundance of gibberish sounds with an aghast look on her face before finally blurting out, “Look like what? Like you weren’t caught having sex with each other?! Geez, Sunoo! We knew you guys were all over each other but I thought you had enough decency to keep that stuff in the bedroom!” She puts her palms out towards you both and shakes them before turning away once again with her head down, shaking it in disbelief.

“That’s the thing! It’s complicated!” You shout, desperately trying to zip up the back of your dress by yourself but failing.

“Were you or were you not just having sex?” Heeseung says sternly, looking directly at you like a disappointed father. You give up the fight with the zipper and sit down in one of the chairs behind you. It’s you he wants the response from, you can tell by the fact that he hasn’t given Sunoo a single glance.

“Yes, but-”

“Then that’s the answer, Y/n. We get it!” Heeseung turns to Karina and gives her a gross affectionate kiss on the cheek that makes you quirk up an eyebrow in confusion. “You guys are jealous of the love we found and you didn’t want to be alone on Valentine’s Day. So, naturally, you turned to each other! But did you really have to embarrass yourselves in some disorganized attempt to get back at us? Just be together in the privacy of your homes, no need to throw it in our faces.”

Sunoo looks at you, and you at him, once again neither of you being able to look at each other seriously and you both start to laugh, yet again.

“That’s rich coming from you!” You almost slap your knee unironically.

“And…we aren’t actually seeing each other.” Sunoo leans against the wall so casually, his composure now under control. You wonder where this confidence has come from. Either way, it looks good on him.

If it weren’t Sunoo, you wouldn’t be so calm about confessing your conniving plans of fake dating. The way he’s so casually laughing and accepting the fact that you were both caught helps ease the anxieties you know you would have felt. And in this moment you realize why he’s not upset and why he’s not embarrassed: he’s finally moving on from Karina.

And, you guess, the same thing is happening to you with Heeseung.

“We faked it all,” you smile genuinely, “Of course we were upset when you guys got together, but honestly for myself, I would have had an easier time moving on if you two weren’t constantly shoving your love down everyone’s throats.”

“We’re surprised you haven’t been in a hallmark movie yet,” Sunoo adds.

“Exactly! It’s borderline overacting.” Pointing at Sunoo as he nods his head, you relax even more.

Heeseung and Karina stare at the two of you, stunned on an entirely new level. Looks like you and Sunoo are the first to tell them how gross and obnoxious their PDA has been.

Karina looks at Sunoo with a weird glint in her eyes, one that makes you instantly suspicious of what she’s about to say.

“Sunoo, let’s get out of here,” you suggest before she even has the chance to speak. “I may not be in love with you romantically, but I think it’s safe to say we’re pretty great friends now. And as your new friend, I suggest we blow this popsicle stand and run off together into the sunset!” You jump up quickly and hold out your arm for him to take.

“I agree completely, Y/n!” Sunoo jumps with just as much fervor as you and gladly takes your arm.

As the two of you start to skip past a dumbstruck pair of exes, you pause before Heeseung and boop the tip of his nose playfully. “Take care now. We’ll see you on Monday!” You wink and continue on with Sunoo.

Deep down, you’d give anything to go back in there and explain the situation entirely with your ex, to have one last heart to heart and really see just what’s going through his head and to get some sort of closure. But you know it’s not healthy to act that way anymore. It’s better to move on and enjoy the day with your newfound friend. So what if you’re single this Valentine’s Day? At least you get to be single with Sunoo.

Later that night, as Spongebob plays in the background of Sunoo’s living room, you look around at all the empty Chinese takeout boxes and at Sunoo passed out on his side of the couch, and you realize for the first time you feel genuinely at peace. Sure, you know it’s going to take some time to fully get over Heeseung, but at the end of the day, you might have gained more than you lost.

With a friend like Sunoo by your side through it all, though, you know it won’t be so bad.

♡ pls like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! ♡ masterlist ♡ all rights reserved jayparked 02/14/25 do not copy, repost, or translate. if you're inspired to create something similar to my work, please credit me

#sunoo smut #sunoo hard hours #sunoo hard thoughts #sunoo x you #sunoo x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen x you #enhypen x reader #kim sunoo smut #kim sunoo hard hours #kim sunoo hard thoughts #sunoo x female reader #sunoo fake dating #kim sunoo x you #kim sunoo x reader #kim sunoo x y/n #sunoo x y/n

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bethanysnow · 11 months ago

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How I think Stray Kids Members would date a Plus Size girlfriend ~ Hyungline

Maknae line

-Bang Chan

This man deadlifts 350lb....do you think it's only for our benefit????? NAH this boy got an actually plus size gal in his minds eye. Large arms, soft shoulders, STOMACH, back???, calves???!?!?!?! Why does no one talk about calves!?! Where this man can man handle and grab and pull to his hearts delight and not break her. Lord knows one spank from him would probably break someone's pelvis if it didn't have padding.... Now I do think he would need to work on himself internally on some of his "complexes" and self image and self confidence?? I love this man to death, but you'd be reassuring him just as much as he is you. He went from the body checking capital of the world to the plastic surgery capital of the world at a formative age; it fucks with your head.

But he would love you, becoming friends would be faster than blinking, but I get the vibe it takes a while to fully trust? He trusts too easily and has been hurt by it in the past so he needs to know that you're gonna he there for him as he is you. He would 100% be the bf to make sure that there are clothes you can wear in his closet but not say anything. He's conscious of how he has insecurities and understands that it takes more than kissing it better and a love making session. It takes work. And he'd be there to remind you every step of the way how much he loves you.

-Minho

This quiet man might surprise you. Now I don't think he'd be the first to come to mind when possibility dating a plus size gf, but this man is a intelligent one. He is introspective, quiet, understanding. He is one of those people in life that either body size wouldn't even cross his mind when dating you, or he would be very conscious of it. Not in a bad way of course.

He is just very concerned about you in how people treat you because of your size, not liking that he gets treated so special cuz he happened to end up being traditionally handsome. Where he sees the mistreatment you deal with and feels protective over you. So he plans ahead, makes sure the restaurant has chairs without arms, would rather people look at him and how OH LOOK ITS LEEKNOW than make you uncomfortable that you think people are staring.

If diets and conversation around diets make you uncomfortable I can see him changing the topic even around the members if you're there. He wants you to be happy and comfortable around him. While he isn't very affectionate or loud about his love its just as deep.

Also.....you got the best ass even if its flat

-Changbin

I think for someone who goes to the gym as much as he does he would understand if someone was having bad experiences tied to it? Like he is paid to work out and have a nutritionist and a stylist and all these team members. Not everyone has that. So he wouldn't pressure you into going with him unless you wanted to go. If you did though he'd be the first one to brag to everyone that you can out-leg press him. It would be the first thing in the group chat in all caps.

Dating Changbin, it is so domestic? I imagine? Like you start dating and he is just this big ol' teddy bear and he would feel so honored if you let yourself be timid around him. Being plus size (insecure or not) you have to have a thick skin, you grow to defend yourself, you protect your heart because people have been cruel and society is a bitch. In doing so the walls are a bit higher, and the fortress is a bit more imposing. But with Binnie, he is a hug that is open anytime anywhere. The absolute pride in his man once you allow yourself to lean on him, or dare to lay on his chest while cuddling? ahhh thats the good stuff

I also think he would be the first one to defend you, knowing the boys love language is poking fun he wouldn't have it if it was you. Be prepared to be presented with one of the boys' heads in a headlock by Binnie if they say anything. He is your knight in shinning armor and will make sure you are laughing and smiling and having a good time. Also he like chan feels more at ease knowing you aren't gonna break if you two get up to something more rough or naughty in the bedroom. Even on a more innocent path just knowing you aren't gonna judge him for how he looks like he doesn't judge yours makes his heart soar.

-Hyunjin

Hyunjin I think would have the most obstacles in regard to dating someone of size. Not that I don't think he wouldn't, but I think with the Korean beauty standard he has a lot of internal stuff he needs to work out before he could be in a healthy relationship. He knows what its like to be judged on only by how you look. He wouldn't want that for you or any of his friends, so I think he would be friends to lovers? You are a great deal of a reality check for him, when he gets very internal and in his head about stuff he goes to you.

So by the time he figures out he has a crush on you his entire art book has already started to look like Renaissance drafts of plus-size women. Starts seeking out media and art that reminds him of you. I don't even think hes conscious that he's doing it? I think it feels like an itch he can't scratch just right and its driving him insane because he doesn't know how to pin down this feeling. Not in art, not in lyrics, it evades him. Till he is standing in front of you, at your apartment, with an Idol worthy bouquet of flowers. Opening his heart and hoping you don't reject him.

Which....would never happen? Your relationship is one of the ages, he writes songs about you, and draws you constantly. In-person he has to be near you, even as simple as playing with your jewelry or showing you memes on his phone while you eat silently side by side. It is a love that is comfort, its like warm clothes out of the dryer for hyunjin.

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

@7ndipity @kaciidubs @itshannjisung @dreamescapeswriting @moonlightndaydreams @ldysmfrst

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #Hyung line #Leeknow x reader #Lee Minho #bang chan #Changbin x reader #Binnie x reader #Hyunjin X reader #plus size reader #skz x plus size reader #skz X reader #skz x you #skz imagines #hyunjin #leeknow

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leyavo · 9 days ago

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| Coming home to you | Gaz

Summary: TF 141 boys and how their wife/gf helps them when they come home after a long and gruelling mission.

I enjoyed doing the wife/gf series and wanted to do some more 🥲 Ghost’s is already done. [Wife/gf masterlist] 1,604words

Gaz x lawyer girlfriend!reader

The soft click of a clasp drew you out of your sleepy haze. You sat up, fluffy blanket falling around your hips and you frowned. The coffee desk surface visible, your scattered files and paperwork piled neatly together beside your closed laptop and stationary case. A flickering candle set on the coaster, one you’ve never seen before.

Kyle, his back facing you as he put away the shopping from the reusable bags on the kitchen counter. He liked to do the simple and mundane things to ground himself whenever he returned from a mission.

Going food shopping however sent your thoughts haywire, he hated doing it that you normally got it delivered. You pushed the blanket off and kicked it to the end of the sofa. Before your feet could touch the floor he spoke.

“Want a coffee, babe?” Kyle asked, head not turning fully to glance at you over his shoulder. Another red flag, no hello or reunion kiss.

You pushed off the sofa and padded across the cold tiled floor, slippers no where to be seen. Now that you walked to him, the bins have been taken out and every surface in your view is spotless, almost sparkling. As if he’s been cleaning around you all morning.

“I got some new blend, but I know you like the vanilla kind.” He’s moving around the kitchen, back to you as you walked closer as if he’s trying not to look at you head on.

You leant against the counter, picking the oat milk from a bag and sliding it across the marble top. “When did you get back?”

“Not long,” he shrugged, cup slamming to the side as his back muscles trembled. “A few hours,” he said, his voice rough and scratchy.

The milk steamer silenced you as you called his name, the fancy coffee machine he got you is only used by him. You can never be bothered to learn all the functions when you’re always in some rush. Kyle making you all different types of blends when he returned from work, as if he liked the loud sound to drown his thoughts out. Drown you out when you try to question him.

“Why don’t we just go back to bed, rest,” you said, palm lightly touching his back, but you’re removing it as soon as his body froze at your touch. He goes the other direction before you can round him, your steaming hot coffee left on the side.

“Slept on the plane home.” Kyle plumped the cushions, the sound of his fists pounding so hard you thought the feathers would explode from the inside.

Sipping your coffee, you unplugged your phone from the charging station by the kettle. A chain of text messages from John lighting your phone. A warning, mission royally fucked, gal. Don’t let Kyle stew for too long, send him my way if he’s too stubborn. A few from Johnny too, don’t go looking into anything lass. That particular message telling you everything you need to know about the situation, something and someone had got in their way.

As if sensing your thoughts of getting involved, Simon texted you. He’d never done so before. Knowledge is power, give it to Gaz. Was he encouraging you to do some digging? To get involved with a classified mission? Maybe you even knew someone connected to them all.

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, finger tapping against the screen as you sent a few question marks back to Simon. Eyes glancing to Kyle unravelling the cord of the hoover across the room.

The phone buzzed, two names written in capitals and a big fucking lead from Simon. BAILEY AND ROANE. Fuck, no wonder Kyle couldn’t look at you. The same names printed on the neatly stacked files on the coffee desk.

“Did you look through my casework?”

Kyle turned to face you for the first time. Stitches holding a gash together near his hairline, grazed skin above his brow and on his cheekbone. You wondered what else laid beneath the layers of clothes he wore.

Your back straightened, tension holding your shoulders up at the implication. So stuck in his head, that he couldn’t talk to you about what’s really going on.

“I just tidied it up, the place was a mess when I walked in,” Kyle snapped, flinging the hoovers plug across the floor. His nostrils flared, he’s doing a good job of avoiding your gaze as if your mere presence angers him.

“Why won’t you look me?”

Kyle’s gaze flickered to you, then to the coffee table piled with your work. He picked the files up and threw them across the room. “Drop the case, give it to someone else.” His voice was cool and controlled, like he’d practiced it all morning. It wasn’t anger he felt, but frustration.

The little tasks he’d done this morning helped him sort through his the mess in his mind. The mess that you had created both in your shared home and the relationship.

“I can’t just drop it. This is my life’s work,” you said, kneeling down to collect all the scattered papers on the floor.

Kyle sighed, crouching down in front of you and handing you photos, one in particular not leaving his grasp as you tried to take it back.

“You have no fucking idea who you’re going after,” he snapped, snatching the photo and lifting it up to wave in your face. The same man in the picture that taunted you in your dreams.

“I don’t give a shit! If they hurt you, I want to help. I want to ruin them. So you tell me exactly what they did.” You yelled in his face and he doesn’t even flinch, your throat burning and eyes stinging.

How was he so calm with everything at stake? You were so angry, every little moment of your life led up to this case and there was no way you were giving up now. The reason you’d become a lawyer in the first place, to put these scumbags behind bars and serve justice.

Kyle stood up, tossing the photo across the coffee table. “They used you to rein me in. They fucking threatened your life!” His finger pointing at you.

And there it is. The thing keeping him from you. He released a deep breath, his chest rising up and down.

“I don’t need protecting Ky! My parents were killed for their work and if I have to put my life at risk to nail those bastards I will.” More fuel to add to the fire, everyone you’d cared about, gone and Kyle wasn’t going to be added to that list.

“They’re fucking war criminals, this isn’t a game baby.” Kyle grabbed your arms, anchoring you to the spot. His glassy eyes connecting with yours, the line between his brows relaxing as he held you there.

It had never been a game to you. Retribution, revenge or karma you didn’t know what to call it, but justice didn’t seem enough most times. Not when it came to Bailey and Roane.

You shrugged out of his hold. “Have you even read my parent’s files?” He doesn’t respond, shaking his head.

Most in the military knew your parents more than you did. Sometimes you got a glimpse of them when you met people they knew, trails of stories giving you an insight to their character and morals. To you they were just mum and dad. Something you didn’t really talk about not even to Kyle, he respected that you didn’t want to pick apart that wound so he never asked any more.

“I thought that’d be the first thing you looked into. I know you looked into my background to see if I’d done shady shit. Yeah, I know.” You fell back into the sofa, gaze dropping to your hands in your lap. The wedding ring your mother wore on your finger.

The cushions dipped under his weight as he sat next to you. “It wasn’t personal, our careers, we can’t take the risk.” His hands took yours and he brushed the rough pad of his thumb over your knuckles. A peace offering and an apology for looking into you. Little did he know that you also did one on him.

“My parents were high up in the military, everyone knows that. They know how they died, but they didn’t know that I was there or that my dad gave me evidence. I’m not trusting that to someone else.”

Nine year old you crammed into that tight space, you didn’t come out for hours. Not till it was dark, not till you knew you could walk the rooms and follow the shadows. Just like daddy taught you to.

“Bailey and Roane killed them. I have evidence,” you whispered, a rogue tear rolling down your cheek. The weight of your words pushing down the knot on your chest. Saying it out loud made it feel more real. You hadn’t shared it with anyone.

“You’ve got a target on your back, I don’t like this.” Kyle wiped your tear stricken face, forehead resting against yours as he released a trembling breath.

“It’s always been there Ky, just a whole lot bigger now. Recon you could get me a meeting with Laswell and Price? I have intel they might find helpful.”

Slipping away, Kyle’s eyes scanned your face. “You’re really not going to back down are you?” He paused, nervous laugh as you shook your head. “Thought so, we’ll have to this by the book and very discretely. I’m not letting you out of sight either.”

🤝 Kyle and lawyer!girlfriend teaming up to take down the baddies.

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dnpanimationstudioclone · 3 months ago

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Cherri Bomb Redesign🍒💣🐸

Made my own version of Cherri Bomb 💣 I’ve ALWAYS dug Cherri’s whole explosion theme 🧨💥

One huge change. Shes now a frog 🐸 Was inspired by the glass frog but instead of her organs being exposed it's her skeleton! 💀 . Fits with her wild, high energy nature. Place I read a fact some big spiders have lil frogs around to keep their babies safe from predators, in return they get food & protection🐸🕷️! Figure it fits her and Angel's bond💖 I imagine she'd be Fat Nuggets Godmother💖🐷🕷️. CW frog insides

Instead of being a cyclops she's got a one part of her headskull cracked and shrouded with her bangs. Shes also got a lot of her limb bones broken. I def headcanon she died caught in an explosion💣 💥

Cherri-what doesn’t kill ya makes your stronger!…oh wait💀

Ngl Arcane Jinx REALLY inspired me, she just hits all the vibes for her.

Made her a warmer orange blonde. And instead of gradient her bangs and tail ends are tinted fiery pink in two cherry bomb like braids 🍒💣🧨

I can imagine Cherri as a freelance explosives/demolition expert/worker! Aswell as doing firework shows too!🎆 🎇💥🧨

Gave her a tongue peircing! And much longer tongue🐸

I imagine she can stick unto walls hence why she’s still got her toes exposed and has def hit people with her slimy tongue 👅 🤣

Made her shirt symbol bigger and in the center. Oh and she's wearing a binder bra

SHES TRANS!!!!!!!!!!! 🏳️‍⚧️ Another reason I made her a frog is to connect her to that(with how they can change gender) She & Baxter def vibe.

Gave her more protection with knee and arm padding, she’s often going into crazy terf wars(needs to last around enough). As well as baggier pants. Ngl I was def going for lowkey punk/radical skater gal vibes 🛹 she def someone that shreds. And the whole punk/rebel vibe was all the rage in the 80-90’s💀☠️ Added more green since she’s a frog and cherries have green stems 🐸🍒 Loved her bombs having that green color, hope canon Cherri gets more on herself.

What do u think? I’d love to know💖

Also done the whole Hotel Gang, including her BBF , the Vees, Katie & Tom, Mimzy and even the King & Queen of Hell

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel redesign #my art #cherri bomb #cherri hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel redesigns #hazbin art #cherri bomb fanart #hazbin redesign #hazbin redesigns #hazbin hotel fanart #Hell hotel #hellaverse #hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel rewritten #hazbinhotel

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loganlermanstanaccount · 2 years ago

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Rigor Mortis (part 4)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

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

Part 3, Part 5

summary: You get your laptop fixed... eventually.

warnings: smut!! (finally lmfao) masturbation, mutual masturbation, tiny bit of voyeurism, recreational drug use, dry humping, etc 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: caught up to where the og oneshot ends so i wanted to switch it up!!

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: 6.8k (still in shock i wrote all this lmfao, i'm strictly a <4k words kinda gal)

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

lips black and blue and gold.

You're frustrated. Bouncing off the walls, head spinning; and it's for a couple of reasons.

First off: you haven't managed to find a laptop. Money you've worked damn hard for, and you can't really afford a new one. With moving around, you've burnt through quite a bit of your emergency fund. Enough to convince yourself you'll be just fine with a pen and paper in class, and the Google docs on your phone when desperate. It might actually force you to go to the library instead of half assing assignments the night before, you think.

And there's your lab book, which you were smart enough to back up on your computer, but guess what? That's fucked; probably taken apart and sold for scraps by Miguel's mysterious friend , who you've conveniently never even heard of and–

"Just ask for an extension." He says, feet up on the sofa. Oddly enough, you've been doing that more often; spending time together. He's not holed up in his room as much, and spends time studying on the dining table, or pretending not to watch the soaps you've got on TV.

"You're overthinking it. Explain the situation, chula, and it'll be fine." He doesn't even look up, just throws the statement in your direction like the lazy pass of a ball.

You scoff, because he's right, and go back to overthinking. You think you can copy out the ruined half of your labbook by hand, and if you beg your OChem teacher for an extra credit project then–

"If I let you use my laptop, will you stop doing that?"

"Doing what?" You frown as he walks over, and reaches to gently pull your hands apart. He turns your palms over, pointing at the raw edges of your fingernails.

" That. " Mindlessly, you'd been picking at your fingernails, without even noticing. Looking up at him, he rolls his eyes.

"...is that a yes?" You nod, hesitant, and catch the hint of a smile as he pads off to his room.

When he returns, open laptop in hand, he thrusts it into your arms - and sits himself back onto the sofa. This time, he splays out facing you, avocado socks resting on your knee. You fight the urge to push him off, a small price to pay in return for his moment of kindness. He's been doing that more often now, slightly more touchy and maybe even… comfortable around you. Eyes flickering up towards him, you catch his. His brows knead together, and you return your attention to the screen just as quickly.

You're going through the motions, more or less, logging into your college's portal and drafting up quick emails to send to your lecturers. But it's when you open up a new tab, that you see something at the top of the screen and pause. Mouse hovering over an incognito tab, hidden in a nest of referencing websites and scientific journals; it's there. Bold letters, in all caps: WOMAN POUNDED BY BIG BEEFY–

You shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't. Once again, you look up at Miguel, and he couldn't care less; tapping away at his phone, only stopping to look at the TV. Nevertheless, you shift to hide the laptop screen from him. But you're not going to look, or anything. You know better than to take a look at your roommates porn habits, the stuff he drools over whilst he fucks his fist; a big, dextrous palm wrapped around his shaft.

You've done it. Clicked on the tab and nothing's exploded, as of yet. You turn down the brightness, with some shame, as if to make the paused video less explicit. But the image stays, a woman folded under the weight of the man above – in the middle of bullying his fat cock into her pussy. It's amateur; hot and sweaty and sticky, with only the woman fully visible. You suppose your curiosity's been sated, but you can't help but think…

…the woman. She looks like you.

Tilting your head, you can't help but see the resemblance. Not the exact same of course - but her hair is similar, body type, skin tone, eyes. It's not close enough to be weird, you guess, but it's enough that that thought stays - burrows into you like an earthworm into an apple. Scrolling down, you see other videos, with the same woman, other women that look like you - the telltale red bar of watched videos. Evidence, but not really, and it makes you heat up. Your mouth goes dry, and you look over to him: only able to concentrate on the hand he's got spread out at his belly, the brown flesh peeking out - and how it looks just like the one on the base of the woman's stomach in the video.

"...everything ok?" He's looking at you, suddenly; and you attempt to click over to your original tab, discreetly.

He doesn't seem to notice, padding over to your side and leaning into your shoulder.

"Yeah, no, I just…" All you can manage is a nervous smile. "The screen froze, so…"

"Oh." He gives the track pad a swipe. "Seems fine to m–"

He freezes up slightly, and you watch as his eyes flick up the screen. The laptop is eased out of your hands, and he gives a few quick clicks. By the time it's back in your lap, the offending tab is gone. Imperceptible, his jaw shifts.

"...Should be okay now."

You hum, a little amused at the display. He's seemingly unfazed, his little slip up notwithstanding, and leans back to lie up against you. Obnoxious, he splays onto the sofa cushions, his weight practically smothering you as you fight to push him off. You think he likes it – it's the only possible explanation – and gets off from watching you squirm. He seems desperate for a reaction, a child pushing boundaries and pressing buttons to see what exactly makes you tick.

And that's the second thing: it works . He's more touchy, and just as insufferable – jumping at any excuse to be near you, it seems. Miguel has a tendency to hover, follow you around the apartment as you talk aimlessly, and you do the same. You sit by against the doorway to the kitchen whilst he makes dinner; he floats around the door to your room when you try to study. In fact, you've spoken to your roommate more in the past week than you have in the past month; about anything and everything. Sometimes, he actually tells you where he goes during the day; off to lectures of his own, another tutoring session or his basically-an-unpaid-job of an internship. In your words, it seems like with the shit they make him do at Alchemex, he may as well be a full employee: with way fewer perks and a distinct paycut. It's almost as if they're paying for my degree, he says with an eye roll, practically hanging off your door frame.

He does that a lot, now: arms drawn upwards to lean from the oak trim. Especially during lazy mornings in - he'll hang on the frame, and move to tug at your heel, waking you up despite fervent protest. Ultimately, it's a kindness and you don't know how to tell him how much you appreciate it; as he wakes you up on time to get to the library in good stead. You're still waiting on that laptop, debating whether or not to bite the bullet; but for now Miguel obliges, letting you borrow his now and then.

He's not nice, you think his tongue is much too sharp for that; but he is kind, giving you some grace you're not too sure you deserve. It's more than what you've been given in a relationship of 4 years, and you don't know how to feel about it.

Well, you do. Your talk on the living room floor not so long ago flipped a switch and all of a sudden you're paying attention to your roommate; really, really looking at him. He is very, very pretty; with a tendency for lingering touches disguised as something else. And you're out of practice: horny, frustrated, stressed. With the way he touches you; a hand on your back to greet you, a squeeze of your shoulder to tease, bare legs across yours on the sofa; it's a lethal combo.

And here you are, headphones on, prepping to take a dildo. Incredibly self-indulgent, but you need it . You don't quite have the emotional stability for a one night stand (you think if someone touches you just right, you'll fall in love), but this dry spell has taken its toll.

It wasn't just after the break up, either. Mismatched libidos had felt like a steady death knoll. Realistically, you knew Jaime was always too tired after a placement, but it didn't make you feel wanted. You just want to be desirable and fucked within an inch of your life – was that too much to ask?

As a result, your toy drawer had grown: vibrators and dildos, clit-suckers and g-spot strokers; crude once said aloud, but all in search of something. With the stress of school and Miguel, Schrodinger's slut ; it's a wonder you haven't cracked it open earlier.

You're on the floor, its purple base suctioned to the hardwood and towels to cushion your knees. Lower half completely exposed, it's an art , porn on your phone to complete the visage. The screen is smaller than that of the laptop you're used to, only providing some stimulation. And so, as you sink down on its silicone length, you can't help but think back to the sofa - and the videos squirrelled away on an incognito tab. Miguel, hunched over and fisting his cock to someone that looks like you; maybe even thinking of you – although the jury's still out, on that one.

But you keep it close to your chest, rub your clit to the thought of it: you're his type, and maybe he'd fuck into you like the man on your screen. Broad, gorgeous shoulders and you wonder how pretty he'd look with scratches littered down his back, or hickeys sucked into skin: lips plump and messy and swollen.

"Oh, fuck," You say it under your breath, knowing that whilst Miguel is out of the house, it still feels odd to put your lips around the pleasure that thinking of him gives.

You speed up, the slap of thighs ringing out into your bedroom. The dildo is around 6 inches, sizeable; but you can't help but wonder how it compares to Miguel's. He might even be bigger; thicker, most definitely; and you bet his cock is just as pretty as he is. Oh fuck, and he'd tease; press into your hole just to snatch it away at the last second, rubbing persistent circles at your clit. You hear his voice in your head, the low grunts and groans you've memorised from all those nights he's spent with other girls.

"Miguel," You're moaning shamelessly now. "...f-fuck, please–"

There must be something electric in the way he fucks: with the litany of girls in and out of his bedroom, what keeps them coming back? He must talk them through it, whispering filth with his plush lips against their ear, and you wonder what he'd say to you. God , you'd give anything to hear it him say, just once, how beautiful he thinks you are; for him to wrap his hand around your neck and pull you close. You want him to fuck you; hard and deep and desperate.

With that, your pace quickens and you gush around the toy. A spasm of limbs, and you're clamping down on the silicone – an orgasm that leaves you breathless and heaving. You convince yourself it's the taboo of it: fucking yourself to the thought of your roommate, after listening to his grunts and groans for the past couple weeks. He started it … thin walls, and all that.

You ignore the want that lays stubborn at the pit of your stomach, riding through stuttering spasms as your orgasm winds down. You're touch starved, that's all, and Miguel's the closest warm body to latch onto. Nothing more, nothing less. Groaning, you shift, picking up your hips to gear up for another round. Just once more, so you know for sure.

Thin walls. The sound leaks into your roommate's bedroom. But with your headphones on, you can't hear the sounds that echo back: Miguel O'Hara, back home early, with an ear pressed to the wall and desperately pumping his cock.

~~~

"I'm not completely convinced, to be honest." You're in Miguel's car, tongue sticking out as you fiddle around with the dials.

His gaze flicks over, and bats your paws off the dashboard. Flopping into your seat, you watch as he turns up the AC and switches the radio, as if reading your mind.

"You really think I'd go through all this trouble?" He scoffs. "Bundle your ass out of the house and drive all the way here to…. do what exactly?"

"Assert dominance in our shared ecosystem." You say it with finality, and he scrunches up his face in confusion.

"...what does that even mean?"

"Like in that nature doc you were watching the other day."

"Well, the point was that spiders aren't hierarchical in the traditional sense. They form colonies that are… quasi-social, if anything, and–" He pauses. "Wait. You were paying attention?"

You shrug. "I thought it was interesting."

"Seriously?"

"...no, not really."

You laugh as he pulls over to park, in a space next to what looks like an apartment complex. It looks way nicer than your place, with sandy brick and hedges that look well kept. Your laughter peters off. Miguel looks decidedly not amused.

He opens the car door and clambers out as you scramble for the seatbelt. To your surprise, he opens the door for you; stretching out a hand for stability as you get out. When you both walk over to the intercom, your palm burns with his touch, and flexes with the memory of it. It's becoming a problem, his hands. You push down the beginnings of a hazy daydream. He presses a panel, waiting for the buzz.

"Lyla? Could you let us up?"

He waves demurely to the camera, and the receiver clicks. A cheery voice rings back.

"...Us? Who's us, Miggy? Did you finally find a girl that puts up with your shit?" Her voice is singsong, teasing. With a smile, you watch as Miguel bristles, speaking into the slick panel.

"My roommate, Jesus, Ly–" He says the next bit a little rushed, turning away slightly as if you still can't hear her loud and clear. "I thought we went through this, you can't keep trying to embarassmeeverytimeI–"

She talks over him towards the end, rapid-fire banter that you can barely make out.

"You never come and visit, except when it's 2am and you need to break into–"

"Once! It was one time! Déjate, ya está bueno ya–"

[Let it go, that's enough now–]

"Let it go? No, no, absolutely not… what is it that you always say? It's the principle –"

"Can you just fucking open the–"

"What's the magic word?"

He sighs, mouthing an apology to you. "Lyla–"

"Magic. Word."

He mumbles. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please could you open the fucking door."

There's a pause, and rustling over the intercom. The door buzzes open.

In the elevator up, you keep quiet, trying your hardest not to burst out laughing. Miguel is visibly brooding; arms crossed and brow furrowed.

"Don't." He says, with a pout you almost think is cute. Almost.

"I'm trying really, really hard not to." You put your hands up, as if to surrender. "... Miggy."

"Fuck off." And then, a little softer.

"...I told you I have friends."

~~~

You leave it at that until you're in Lyla'a apartment, when she opens and ushers you in. She looks exactly the way she sounds: pretty, mousy features, with her hair in short, choppy layers. She's bundled up into a plush white robe; heart-shaped sunglasses sliding down the tip of her nose.

Miguel breezes past her, towards the murmuring voices you can just about make out in the front room.

"Lovely to see you too, Miguel." It's under her breath, but when she turns towards you there's a twinkle in her eye.

You introduce yourself, and she pulls you into a tight hug.

"I know," She says. It's ominous, but her voice is light and airy. When you separate, she flashes a wide smile. "Lyla. It's nice to put a face to a name."

"Uhh, sorry. What?" She ushers you further into her apartment as you speak, confused.

"Oh, Miggy talks about you all the time. Complaining , mostly, but in that way he gets when he's trying really, really hard to pretend he doesn't care. Like, he texted me yesterday and–"

"Thaaat's enough." You feel hands on your shoulders, and all of a sudden, Miguel is steering you away from her grip. You stumble into her living room, so bright and airy your eyes have to adjust to the light that floods in. Looking around, her apartment is gorgeous; a spacious open plan, floor-to-ceiling windows with a prime view, and lush furniture. Everything about it screams expensive – especially in comparison to your paltry place. Maybe the shock is visible on your face, but you're in awe. She can't be much older than Miguel, right? She looks about the same age, mid-twenties, not too far-removed from college… and it isn't quite adding up.

"How can she afford this? That's what you're thinking." There's a voice on the sofa that makes you blink. A young man with messy brown hair, a set jaw and 5 o'clock shadow calls out to you in between mouthfuls of pizza. "Lyla's… mmhgh… suuper fuckin' rich… mmfgh… that's how."

It's then that you notice there are other people here, sprawled out on the sofa set; boxes of takeout on the side tables next to them. Of course Lyla's rich: only 20-somethings with money to spare have matching sofas.

She's like Beetlejuice, or the Candyman, and pops up next to you when her name's said.

"I work in tech! With a cute little job on Wall Street, and a part-time one white hat hacking." She clarifies. " Ethical hacking."

She giggles like she's told a joke somewhere, and you nod – still not quite understanding.

"...and some side gigs that aren't as ethical." A blond haired man next to Mouthful-Of-Pizza pipes up. "When are you going to introduce us, Miguel?"

He's grumbling in the kitchen area, digging through the shelves for something. He returns with a bag of chips and dip in a container, flopping onto the zebra print throw pillows. Distracted, he waves a hand around the group noncommittally.

"Uhh, Peter, Ben, Lyla." He gestures to you, saying your name, and then to himself; tearing open the bag at the same time. "-and Miguel. All done"

"My turn for questions, now," Miguel says, pointing at Lyla, looking at the boys to his side. "Is she…?"

"...super high? Most definitely." Lyla giggles at Ben's words, for good measure.

"...right. Peter Parker, nice to meet you." He throws a thumb to the back of the sofa, where you notice a little mop of red curls peeking out. "And this is my little Mayday."

Peals of laughter erupt from behind him, and you notice grubby hands with a death grip to the cushion rest. Miguel leaps up, rushing to her side to help her up its back.

"Ayyy dios mio." He scoops her up carefully, "Buenas, Arañita."

Mayday is on his lap now, a little toddler of about 1 or 2, snaking herself around to hug Miguel's chest. She is certifiably the cutest thing you've ever seen: gap-toothed and giggly, with a smatter of freckles like someone's flicked a paintbrush across her nose. And with the way Miguel melts, you can die happy, knowing that you've seen the impossible: Miguel O'Hara, cooing and fussing over the little girl.

"Arañita?" You ask, to no one in particular.

"Itsy-bitsy spider." . ..is the sing-song, choral response from everyone but Miguel. They're mimicking his tone of voice, and he raises his head from May, looking around.

"I don't sound- "

"You do, dude." Peter sighs, tickling the little red head on the tummy; smiling as she collapses into bright laughter. "I don't have a nickname, and I've known you waaay longer than she has."

Miguel covers her tiny little ears, and says, "Eres un pendejo, Parker . "

[you're a dipshit, Parker]

The scraggly man sticks his tongue out in response, and May pulls at his hair for good measure. He yelps, and Miguel passes her over to her Dad. The scene is funny, for sure, but you feel it's warmth more than anything. God, you can tell they've loved and laughed with each other for years; the kind of friendship you'd kill to have.

"We just need whatever's left of her laptop, Lyla," He's blunt, batting away long forgotten chips and dip. "...and then we'll get going. Wish I could stay longer, Arañita, but I've got some work to finish off."

May makes grabby hands at him, and you melt. Who knows how Miguel can stay strong in the face of her big, round eyes.

He gets up to stand next to you, arms crossed. The height difference is stark: his tall, solid frame towering over everyone else. It seems like an intimidation tactic, but you know him just well enough to tell: he's trying not to be swayed by puppy eyes and promises of food.

"You just got here, Miggy." Lyla sighs. "We're going over prep for Jess', and we'll be two minutes, I swear."

"Oh?" His eyebrows light up. "I knew it! You were being evasive on the group chat, and Pete wasn't returning my calls…"

Huffing, he clasps his hand around yours, ready to storm out. "This is an ambush. A goddamn setup!"

"Wait, Miguel, I need my-"

"I'll pick it up later for you, okay?" It's said like an aside, so soft only you can hear it. With his hand around yours, it certainly feels more intimate than it should. And it seems like he realises a little too late, dropping your hand as your faces are mere inches away.

"Um, we should… we should go."

You look past him to the faces blinking at you guys, on the sofa. A pause, and then you're gulping down stubborn feelings to ask a question.

"Jess' ? Is there a party, or something?"

Lyla nods. "Yeah, and Miguel's meant to be picking up cake."

The man in question pinches his nose. "I can pick up the cake just fine. It's the whole… going to a party bit I'm not too keen on."

"Come onnn, you know Jess would love it."

"She'd love to blackmail me with some dumb shit I did drunk, that's for sure."

"It's her birthday, hardass ." Peter whispers that last bit, covering little May's ears like before. "She can have a little blackmail, as a treat."

"You're gonna say no to a surprise party ?" Ben echoes, shaking his head dramatically.

"A surprise birthday?" You light up. "Miguel, you have to go."

His stony demeanor cracks, for a moment. You latch onto it, hellbent on wearing him down. He's always got his laptop out doing work, or cracking open a little notebook to prep a lab. When he's not at home, he's at that internship, or tutoring, or planning a tutoring session. Work, work, work; and you'll be dammed if you let him rot away in a little cage of his own machinations.

"Come on, Miggy." You watch him bristle, prying at that little crack in the surface. This has to be done with finesse: present a challenge, and watch him scramble to prove you wrong. "You're telling me a couple of hours at a party's too much for you? That's it? "

"That's not–"

"S'what it sounds like to me." You shrug, a little smile on your face. The aim is to look as smug as possible; and it seems to be working.

His jaw shifts, annoyed. Lyla catches on, giving you a crazed smile.

"Even your roommate's gonna come." She says, an arm linked in yours.

"I am?" She gives you a little dig, and you're spluttering. "Y-Yeah, I am!"

You can see him fight with his own ego; but it's a one-sided affair.

"Fine. " He strains. "Two hours, max. And then I'm gone."

Lyla gives you a squeeze, and then wraps you both up in a hug he desperately tries to fight off. Ben slots around you guys, and Peter's last to join, with Mayday squealing on his shoulders.

Eventually, you get what's left of your laptop: a little thumb drive with as much as Lyla could save. You'd thanked her profusely, of course; trying to slither out of her vice grip of a hug, as best you could. She's absolutely batshit, the good kind; cryptic, and strange, but with a lot of heart. She makes you wonder, and they all do; just how did they become friends with Miguel? How do they fit?

The man himself seems a little different, as if reinvigorated by being around friends. In fact, you catch him smiling to himself on the drive home. It's sweet; to see a different side of him around people he's clearly comfortable with. If only for a little while, he sheds the heavy weight he seems to carry around.

Around the house, you notice he seems lighter – humming to himself whilst cooking dinner. That very day, you watch the little sway of hips as he stirs a pot; headphones in, singing under his breath. He can't sing for shit, of course, and he'd kill you if you ever uttered a word; but it's a sight you commit to memory, not knowing when next he'll be in such a good mood.

There's still the question of a new laptop in the air, but you feel more settled by the events of the day. You're a little less fucked school-wise, you've got a party to look forward to, and potentially a drunk Miguel to make fun of. He goes to bed early; and you can hear the quiet drone of a podcast from the other side of the wall. He drifts off to the sweet, dulcet tones of Top Ten Genetic Precursors for Early Onset Dementia; one of his favourites, you've determined.

All is well, for now. A tentative truce, and maybe, just maybe: you're finally friends with your roommate.

~~~

There's something about dramatic irony that seems to smack you across the face, every time.

You've come to somewhat of a understanding with your prickly roommate, and the stream of women in his bed seem to slow down, for a bit. He's hot, he's a whore; but he's sweet, with an eye for detail. He can read you with a scary amount of accuracy. Antsy and hungry from a long day? He leaves you scratching your head at his clairvoyance when you come home, chucking you a hot water bottle and a warm meal. You go to bed with a full belly, cramps abated.

He's still a prick, of course. Sarcastic comments, and a massive grump – but you've learnt to deal with that. Just a couple of days after a seemingly settled week; what you can't wrap your head around is the pounding music from next door, at fuck-off-o'clock . He shouldn't be awake, let alone interrupting your late night study session.

You're pissed, leaping from your desk to pound at his door. You're thudding towards his room, ready to deliver a well-deserved verbal lashing, and the door just… swings open. Empty; there's a window ajar and music pumping from speakers. Bachata and cheesy 90s R&B; which sounds suspiciously like his sex playlist.

Yes, he has a sex playlist. And it really has no business to sound as good as it does.

Nevertheless, you're resolute. If he's managed to sneak someone, at this hour, you decide he's going to get more than a stern talking to.

There's clattering in the kitchen, and you whip around; half-expecting the giggle of another girl. When you walk in, it's just Miguel, rummaging through cupboards: a half-naked thief in the night.

"Miguel?"

He pops his head up from a cabinet, with a half-eaten piece of bread in his mouth. Caught red-handed, you suppose; and he gives you a little smile.

"S'everyfin' – mmmfggh –" He scarfs the rest of it down. "Everything okay?"

You squint. "No. Not really."

He chuckles, a slight rasp at the edges of his voice. Dickhead – what exactly is so funny?

"You can't have your music so fucking loud, not when I'm studying. It's the middle of the night and–"

Dressed in nothing but a pair of gray sweats, he's busying himself with a sandwich on the counter; clattering around noisily like he doesn't have full control of his limbs. Which is…. weird, admittedly. You'd trust Miguel to slice a grape with a machete – his dexterity is usually unmatched. Not that you'd made a habit of staring at his hands, or anything.

"Are you even listening to me?"

He nods, attempting to keep a straight face, but the faux solemnity does nothing to hide that droop of eyelids and slump of his shoulders. You get closer, pushing him to face you properly.

"Oh, fuck," His eyes are a little red, hair messy and windswept. "Are you… high? "

Miguel O'Hara? High? You'd never thought you'd live to see the day, honestly. His eyes go wide, dropping his sandwich dramatically. And then he's got a big hand at your shoulder, pulling you closer with a finger pressed to his lips.

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering your name like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone."

With the way he says your name it makes you light-headed. It's slow and careful, as if he's testing the way it feels spilling from his lips. And maybe, with the way he smiles, it feels good; tastes sweet wrapped around his tongue.

"I won't." You breathe, and then you're both giggling.

There's something about the way he looks at you, peering under heavy lashes; basically eye-fucking you in the space of your tiny kitchen. You feel bare in a little t-shirt and sleep shorts; suddenly exposed.

"You should…" He starts, cocking his head ever so slightly. "Join me, chula. "

It's soft; sinful, even; said as he coaxes you between his body and the kitchen counter.

You don't trust your voice enough to answer, legs already shaky, so you nod. Slight, at first; and then with a little more gusto as the idea of him and you on his sheets – intimate, alone – creeps in. He stretches out a hand, and you take it; led to his bedroom like a scene you've seen before. All those girls before you; led to the dragon's lair like damsels in a fairytale. Except in this one, you suppose, you're not waiting for a knight in shining armour to save you.

He sits you down on the bed, passing you a freshly rolled blunt. Passing it to your lips , more specifically; hand on your chin as he brings the lighter up to its end. Even prettier up close, all you can do is watch the press of plump lips, and pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates. As he leans in, there's a hand on your bare thigh. You inhale, deeply, and he hums with content.

"Good girl," He purrs, prying it from your lips to take a slow drag.

"You're a bad influence." You murmur, watching as his eyes flutter shut.

"You need to relax," He leans back, arm drawn lazily upwards. "This is helping."

"That's not–" Oh. You feel it now, a steady haze rolling over limbs.

Miguel quirks up an eyebrow, amused.

You repeat, slowly, "You're a bad influence ."

"Does it feel good?" You pause, trying to ignore his low tone; and the steady blaze that it ignites within you. Dragging your eyes to meet his, you see it: want, lust, something heavy that swirls behind them.

You nod, itching for another pull. As if psychic, he gestures for you to come closer; and your lips almost slot against his. He exhales, and you inhale; in the closest thing you've come to a kiss in months. It makes you ache for just a little more contact, for those pretty hands to slot between your thighs and–

"Is this all I need to do for some quiet around here?" He asks, lilting. If only he'd stop talking; interrupting your fantasy with that stupid grin of his.

You're shaking your head, laughing at the sheer gall .

"You're fucking someone new every week, O'Hara. Loud. Who was it the other day? Cathy, Kayla –"

"Sita, actually." He has a strange expression on his face. "And we didn't fuck. Just going over lecture notes."

"Sorry . Must have gotten mixed up with the half-dozen other girls in and out of here. Our apartment's not a brothel , Miggy."

He rolls his eyes, handing you the remnants of the blunt.

"...s'not my fault there isn't anyone fucking you right."

You scoff. "How would you know?"

"Thin walls. " It's cryptic. What the fuck does that mean?

You take a careful drag, and hand the blunt back – trying your hardest not to strangle him. It must show on your face as you tussle with the thought, because Miguel is staring; unabashedly, unashamedly. When you notice, it throws you off.

"... what?" Ready to defend yourself, you huff.

He shrugs. His expression is soft, reminding you of that night, not long ago.

"You look like a painting."

You practically short circuit. You've been complimented before, of course. Hot, by men trying to get into your pants. Pretty, sometimes. Beautiful, the other times. Whether it's been sincere, you don't know – but you're smart enough to not overthink it. It's hard enough to live a life, as it is; and you'd rather not be bogged down by what others think, how you look whilst doing it. And yet, you feel your body betray you; a steady bloom of heat at your heart, like you've been stabbed. So deep, it spreads like blood on the front of a blouse. Like a painting, he says. And you like the way he says it; how it sounds spilling from his lips.

Its implication sits heavy. Like a painting : hand-crafted, silken, soft –

He blinks, the crack of a smile on his face. And it ends in a fit of giggling, if you can even call it that.

"Stop fucking with me." You grumble, and he thinks the way your face scrunches up with disdain is cute. There's probably an implication there he should unpack in therapy – how he likes it when you shout and put him in his place – but he's much too high to care.

"M'not-" He quiets down, flattens his face into something resembling sobriety and gravitas. He gets a little closer, so close you can feel the heat of his body and flutter of lashes. With wide, dilated pupils, he stills - and it really doesn't help that he looks so pretty.

"Can't stop thinking about you, hermosa." His voice is low, slurred with the weight of the blunt he's taken careful drags of. Every word makes you feel hazy, drawn in by his lips. " Fuck, all the time."

"Hear your laugh in my dreams, sometimes." He circles your bare thigh carefully, without breaking eye contact. With a thumb on your chin, he brings you closer, and closer still. Gently, you close your eyes, expecting the press of his lips against yours…

…instead, you get a puff of smoke for your troubles. Reeling, you push him away. He collapses on the bed in a laughing fit.

"... now I'm fucking with you." Rumbling laughter, and you've got the wherewithal to be embarrassed – hand still resting on his bare chest.

A little cruelly, you push down, giving him an elbow to the ribs for good measure and he splutters with surprise – laughing all the same.

"Asshole." You slur, and he grabs your arm to pull you onto the covers with him. You paw at him wildly, wrestling amongst the table of sheets. It's not a fair fight, not really; the wide expanse of his bare chest feels solid, and he's probably got more muscle in his pinky toe than you do in your whole body. Miguel is strong , but plays along regardless, pinning you to the bed with his hands around your wrists - but lets you turn him over just as quick. You're both laughing, the blunt long forgotten but its haze blurring the lines. You straddle his middle, hips flush against his and he keens; head back and cheeks flushed.

"Fuck," It's quiet, said as he writhes below you and you try to pin his hands above his head. Maybe it's the weed, but he lets you: eyes low, breath steady. And you stay like that, for a moment; bodies laid against one another.

You don't know who starts it: the slow roll of hips, the swell of his cock bucking up against your heat. Regardless, you welcome it, letting the heat build up with the pressure at your clit. Your hips sway and all Miguel can do is watch.

Lips parted, head back; and you set a steady rhythm that washes over you both.

Humping against one another, you get more desperate and drag your hands to his chest for purchase. Underneath you, Miguel practically purrs – one hand on your waist and the other clutching yours at his chest.

"So, so pretty…" He sighs into it, wide palm pawing at your ass, shamelessly grabbing handfuls. By now, he's rock hard; and you feel him throb through the thin material of his sweats.

"Fuck, I can't–" You moan, ragged, the roll of your hips gaining speed.

Miguel coos, bringing a hand to your chin to pull you closer to the crook of his neck.

"Too fast, hermosa. S-Slow it down for me." He grips your waist, forcing the pace to slow. Your hips stutter against his, delicious pressure making you cry out. And, God, you're close; pleasure building up at your gut.

"Ohhh, fuck. Just like that, just like–" It's soft, whispered between the press of bodies like a prayer: reverent, intimate, a slew of garbled English and Spanish into the shell of your ear that goes straight to your pussy.

"A-Ahi, ahi–"

[t-there, there–]

Plush lips brush against your cheek, and you try so hard to not float away - with only his words to keep you tethered.

"... no pares lo que sea que estes haciendo–ohh-fuck–"

[don't stop what you're doing, oh fuck–]

The coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you arch into his touch as he does the same. Miguel spills into his sweats, heaving with the effort. He can feel the clench of your pussy above, and he chases it in the aftermath; craning his neck to finally get a kiss. Limbs heavy, you still manage to swerve so his kisses land at your jaw. He's grateful for the contact anyway it comes and sucks careful hickies into the skin: at your neck, your collarbone, and anywhere else he can reach.

You sink into it, curl up on his chest like a housecat; his hands wandering the gentle slope of your back under your shirt.

Limbs heavy, you pry yourself from his hands ever so slightly. He strains to follow you up, snapping back into the sheets like an elastic band. Still, he kneads at your flesh - bare thighs spilling from your shorts.

" Miguel," You whisper, hand travelling past his neck to cradle his jaw. "Need more…"

You punctuate that last word with a roll of your hips. Wanton, conflicted; he groans .

"It's late, chula. " He says it slowly, hesitant – like he can't believe the words are coming out of his mouth. He's still high, lost in the whispy remnants of that blunt. You've never known weed to make someone more responsible, and you flop to his side, a little childishly.

Miguel makes sure to keep a hand wrapped around your waist, dragging his other knuckles up your exposed tummy so that it rides up to the swell of your tits.

"And you've got that 9am."

You cover your face with the span of your hands, grumbling. From between the gaps in your fingers, you repeat,

" ...and I've got that 9am ."

He traces lazy circles in your flesh. Maybe it's the blunt, or the afterglow of an orgasm; but you make him laugh, a gentle ache replacing the creak and shudder of gears.

"Idiot." He says, kissing it into your skin. And he burns from the touch, fleeting; like the warm flame from paper lanterns, or the flicker of a lighter against cool night air.

Miguel taglist (1): @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #kat_writes😼#rigor mortis 😼#spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv x reader #atsv fic

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shallyouobeyme · 1 year ago

Note

For the “spicy” prompt im imagining Platonic Yandere Batfam discovering your internet history, and having a confrontation about how you’re far too young for such things (reader is a full adult, not that the Batfam sees it that way).

I sadly already have something written out for today, but I really love this idea so I decided that I'd just go into the concept a bit as well - I mean I make the rules to this so I might as well use that power.

Okay, so I don't really write smut as of now because I don't read it and I do have not a lot of real-life experience so I figure it might just be a lot of cringy blabbering. But let's go with the 'spicey' meaning that horny adolescents will probably think of when reading the word in the context of fanfiction.

Now you're probably somewhere in the span of 16-20 in this scenario, old enough to live independently on your own, but young enough that the batfam can somehow justify it in their mind to treat you like a precious, fragile, little toddler. Sure, some of them logically know that you're basically a grown-up, but with how much effed-up shit they see every day they don't really wanna admit that to themselves and rather chose to act all 'I do not see'. And while that's all fine and dandy for them to do, it doesn't change the logical facts. Fact number one: You grew out of binkies and blankies like a decade ago, for god's sake Dick stop trying to make me take ten naps a day with them. Fact number two: Like I said, you're kind of (definitely) an adult and assuming that you have not always been the coddled little Wayne-baby that the Batfam wants to see you as you've probably been exposed to adult things before and aren't sensitive with seeing them. Like, guys, I was reading the news daily before you crazy people kidnapped me - stop talking about international crises as if the countries are people who have minor disagreements, okay? Fact number three: there comes a time in an adult's life when they might be craving a somewhat more intimate partner in their life - and no, Damian, I don't mean the bestest friend in the whole world forever, I mean a guy or a gal or a nonbinary pal who can rock your shit, if you get my drift (never dare say that to Damian out loud tho, you will be having your mouth washed out with soap). So while it might be a giant oversight on your part to not realize that all your precious internet time is completely monitored, you still probably haven't expected to be sat down by Bruce, Dick, Jason and Alfred and get a lecture on how you're way too little to look up these kinds of things (you looked up TikTok videos and happened to watch a few with TikTokers dancing in slightly less covered clothing) and how your mind is too undeveloped to grasp these big things you searched for (you looked up a statistic on the rate of kidnapping victims to get killed) and how you should keep playing your safe games instead of these violent ones (you looked at a game trailer for Cyberpunk 2077).

All your arguing falls on deaf ears. They just don't wanna hear that you're not their little, innocent baby. The only good thing is that they don't think you have enough logical thinking skills yet to properly grasp the situation so you'll be punished very lightly (a month without internet privileges). Once you're allowed to go online again though, you'll have to make do with the special kiddy-pad they got you with all the safety features and parental controls installed. So yeah, might wanna get used to being without the internet from now on...

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souperbloom · 9 months ago

Text

short oneshot inspired by a tweet i saw (please don’t kill me for being inactive im sorry im a very busy gal)

cabin fever. [A.I]

🪵 Ashton x fem!reader

a late-night kitchen rendezvous on an annual trip with your friends.

a/n: i cannot find the tweet this was inspired by but it was something along the lines of ‘nobody makes out on the living room couch and dry humps like they used to’ so… just use your imagination with this one friends.

also WHO ELSE IS BUMPING STRAIGHT TO YOUR HEART CUZ I KNOW I AMMMMM

content warnings: none, really!

WORDCOUNT: ~3.1k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Three AM. The prime time to chug a cold glass of water and stand in the kitchen to contemplate life.

It was day two of the annual ‘friend trip’. Eight twenty-somethings to a six-bedroom cabin with a plethora of tanning lotion and tequila. You had spent most, if not all, of today out by the lake— your shoulders were burnt to a crisp and your eyes felt tired and heavy. It was the price to pay for a gorgeous day out on the water.

Everyone had called it a night around midnight, the couples sifting off to their respective rooms while the solos duked it out for the only other queen sized bed. Luckily, you were the winner of that duel. But now, you’re faced with that unquenchable late-night thirst.

Plus the fact that you couldn’t sleep.

You crept down the old oak stairs quietly, your socks padding against the wood and creaking with every step. You’d wince every time your foot made a sound; but you were also convinced that everyone was too deep in sleep to hear it.

A lakeside cabin in the middle of nowhere was a lot more quiet than you’d anticipated. Only the cadence of chirping crickets and the occasional owl hoot could be heard for miles. It was honestly kind of creepy. You ignored those jarring sounds and continued your journey for that tall glass of water, hoping it would put your sleepy mind a bit more at ease.

Once you tipped some ice into your cup and filled it with water to the point where it was overflowing, you let your shoulders relax. You leaned with your back against the kitchen island and sighed, before taking the biggest swig of your life.

“Can’t sleep?”

A disembodied voice startles you, briefly making you choke on your water as you whip your head around to see who it was coming from.

“Fuck, Ash— scared me…” you mumble sheepishly, wiping a bit of water that had dripped down your chin.

“Sorry, sorry. I probably should’ve made myself known when I saw you coming down.”

Your eyebrow lifts as Ashton starts to approach the kitchen island where you were standing, “You’ve been down here the whole time?”

Ashton nods, stretching his arms up behind his head. “Yup. Been down here for like an hour now. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Mmm, same.”

An awkward, yet peaceful silence falls between you and Ashton as you continue to take large sips out of your cup. He eyes down the sweaty glass, passing it to look down at your sleep shirt and pajama shorts.

You cross your arms and stare at him with that same intrigue, scanning over his unbuttoned flannel and accompanying black sweats. His bare chest was exposed and slightly sunburnt, which mostly everybody had gotten brute of today while out by the lake.

“Since when did you listen to Guns N’ Roses?”

You scoff down at his mention of your old thrifted t-shirt, “Since you decided that not wearing sunscreen in 90 degree weather was a good idea.”

Ashton chuckles quietly, tousling his hair with his hand and mocking your crossed arms and posture.

“Touché.”

You laugh for a moment, chewing the inside of your cheek contemplatively. It had to have been at least 3:30 by now. Getting sleep was definitely one of your top priorities, but Ashton seemed like he was awake for the long haul.

Sleep was imminent, although you didn’t really mind some alone time with him. Something about Ashton and your long-standing friendship left a little swirl in your stomach. You’ve always had the tiniest crush.

“Want some?” You break the silence by swirling your cup, ice clinking against the sides of the glass. He seemed tantalized by your offer, and took the glass without a word.

He raised it with grateful eyes before taking a sip, then finished it all in one gulp. Your jaw dropped slightly at how quickly it disappeared.

“Hey,” you whine, “I said some. Not the rest of it!”

“Oh c’mon, Y/N. We’ve got a tap with unlimited water and about six ice trays in the freezer. I could easily pour you another.”

You shake your head in mock distaste, and start to walk away from the kitchen into the living room area. “No thanks. I’m not thirsty anymore.”

Ashton chuckles from behind you not long before the tap starts running again.

“Suit yourself.”

Now that you were fully awake and alert after Ashton had scared the life out of you, you weren’t sure where to place your restless body. You figured that sitting on the couch and staring at the ceiling may help you get that tired feeling back.

“I’m thinkin’ about staying up to watch the sunrise,” Ashton blurts, his voice growing closer to the couch.

“But, aren’t you tired? I’m fucking exhausted.”

“You woke up at 11 this morning. You got a lot more sleep than I did.”

Your eyebrows furrow as he continues to walk around the coffee table, looking as though he was about to sit himself down next to you on the cushion. “The sun makes me tired.”

“Everyone’s different, I guess.”

Ashton’s words felt backhanded, yet you didn’t have the energy in you to care. He sat himself down next to you with a fresh glass of water and now the only thing you could think about was how his flannel had fallen slightly off of his shoulder.

“You think you’re gonna sleep?” you ask.

“Nah. Probably not.” he replies.

“Cool. Me neither.” Your decision was final.

That silence from before carried over from the kitchen as Ashton took one long sip and finished his water in one sitting. Your eyes lulled closed, but it seemed that sleep was no longer an option.

“Wanna watch somethin’?” asks Ashton, voice raspy and quiet, as he leans forward to discard his glass onto the coffee table.

“Do we even get cable this deep in the woods?”

He laughs at your honest question, slinging his arm against the back of the couch and letting his hand rest behind your head.

Smooth move, Ash.

“Maybe not. But, I’m sure we could find something on demand. Probably some old black and white movie but, I actually kind of dig those.”

You can’t help but giggle and roll your eyes, nodding your head towards the remote as his smile mirrored yours.

“Put on whatever you find intriguing. But if I end up falling asleep, that’s nobody’s business but mine.”

In no time, Ashton had surfed through all movies dating back to the golden age of Hollywood, and eventually landed on A Streetcar Named Desire. You found the choice of such a dramatic movie to be odd for someone like Ashton. Then again, you only knew him so well.

“Have you seen this?” he asks you, settling back further into the couch and letting the cushion cradle his head.

You blow out a breath, trying to recall a time where you’d maybe seen Marlon Brando on your parent’s television yet failed to remember virtually anything about the plot.

“I think so—” your sentence is broken by a yawn, which brings Ash to snap his head away from the silver screen.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“Psh, no. I’m staying up. That’s what I told you and I’m sticking to it.”

Ashton’s gaze flicked down your face, yet it was becoming harder to hold the eye contact as his illuminated features flickered beneath the television.

“Alright. Whatever you say.”

Silence passes as the movie begins, the titlecard rolling onscreen and earning another heavy yawn out of you. Your eyes felt heavy now, heavier than before.

Would falling asleep really be the worst?

Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment and as they fell, you could feel Ashton’s head tilt towards you. The hand that was beside your head on the back of the couch had slowly crept towards your hair.

Without any words exchanged, he begins to pet your head. Not in a strange way. But in a way that if he kept it up, you’d fall asleep and wake up in the morning with your body strewn across his lap.

“Feels nice…” you mumble lazily, your eyes still closed.

“Yeah?”

“Mmh, yeah.”

Dialogue began quietly funneling through the sound system and for some odd reason, you felt compelled to open your eyes. Ashton continued to stroke your hair, but when you expected to see him staring at the television, he was still just staring at you.

“What?”

“Hm?” he jumps slightly, as if caught in some way.

“You’re looking at me.”

He shrugs. It was the most he could do.

“Don’t know what’s happening to me, but— you look really fuckin’ pretty right now.”

Heat swells the apples of your cheeks at his compliment. He did that thing, the one where a man stares at you through his unbelievably long eyelashes and hopes you’d get the memo simply by their eyes.

“Could it be the glow of the silver screen?” you tease, trying to ease up on the ever present tension that Ashton had created out of nothing.

“Could be.”

Something was swirling inside of the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t put your finger on. It could have been how late it was, or the fact that repressed emotions and feelings were making an appearance after the person you’ve had a tiny crush on suddenly expressed interest in you. Ashton was a flirt, but never to this extent.

He was hard to read most of the time.

Instead of feeling out-of-body by the contact Ashton was providing, you decided to embrace his gentle touch and the way his hand softly ran across your head. He had eventually made his way to your shoulder, mindlessly toying with the neckline of your t-shirt as he watched the movie.

You bite your lip, looking down at that muted and worn flannel he was wearing. Then letting your eyes, and mind, wander off and wonder what it would be like to run your palms across his smooth chest. A shaky breath leaves your throat, and catches his attention.

“You alright?” he asks, genuine concern flitting across his face as he catches his hand wandering.

“Huh—? Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”

The eye contact lingers. The triangle method is now in play. Eyes, eyes, lips. Eyes, eyes, lips.

“Anything on your mind at the moment?” Ashton quizzes, his words lazy and muffled.

“Mmmh, no. Not in particular. You?” You try to bounce back but lying was never your strong suit.

“I’ve got a thing or two on my mind, yeah,” he trails off, looking at the tv as his fingers drum against the couch cushion behind you, “Not sure how you’re feeling.”

This odd conversation spinning around the room was making you dizzy. If he wanted anything from you, which seemed obvious by his incapability to focus on the movie, you wished he’d be more honest.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, Ash.”

“Can I show you?”

Those viridian eyes were at it again. Eyes, eyes, lips. Eyes, eyes, lips. You were shocked at his ability to communicate with you without any words exchanged.

It all seemed to be happening in slow motion. Ashton maneuvered himself towards you delicately, as if you were made of porcelain and were to shatter at any given moment. Your back was suddenly flat against the couch and the speed in which it got there had you questioning reality.

Your lips attached and a collective sigh filled the room that was louder than any of the sounds encompassing this massive wooden fortress. Your hands tangled in Ashton’s hair as his flannel brushed against your sides and covered the both of you.

His broad palm cupped your face while he angled his knee between your legs, breathing deeply into the kiss and letting his tongue lead the way.

You could feel the warmth of his body engulfing you, something you’d never thought you’d feel in this lifetime. In your dreams, maybe, but it was just a stupid little crush. Maybe you’d fallen asleep on the couch, and this was your subconscious mind taking over.

But when his hand traveled from your cheek and rested at the base of your neck, you quickly realized that you were not fucking dreaming.

“This okay?” he mumbles, the words knocking against your lips and his hips dip down to grind against your core. It seemed as though he was about as eager to do this as you were.

“Mhm. Fine. Yes.” you blubber, coherent sentences getting lost somewhere in the room and hypnotized by how sweet his lips tasted.

He dips back into the kiss and you could feel him smile against you. It took everything inside of your body to keep your moaning to a minimum, but God, you couldn’t help it.

“You’ve gotta be quiet, hon’,” he giggles into your mouth again, before popping up briefly to stare you down with big, kelly green eyes, “Don’t wanna wake anyone up.”

You nod. Of course. How stupid of you. The last thing you needed was a story to tell your best friends around the campfire while Ashton did the same in another room.

How stupid.

The kiss continues, as does the path of your hands. You let your curiosity kill whatever cat was around and run your hands down his bare chest. You didn’t think fantasizing about it would actually lead you here but hey, it had felt as good as you’d imagined.

A groan rumbles through Ashton’s throat while your fingertips drag down his flesh. His hips seemed to have a mind of their own, occasionally grinding against your core and threatening to pull louder noises from you.

The hand that Ashton was using to hold himself above you had dropped to an elbow, and he slowly began to trail feathery kisses down your jaw and towards your neck. Your eyes shot open, and you just sighed. He sure knew how to press all of your buttons, and he was damn’ good at it too.

“Ash, no marks. Please. Don’t— wanna— have to explain.”

“I know, I know. I’ll keep my markings to a minimum.”

You could feel a catty smirk crawl across your neck, so you playfully whack his shoulder.

“Ashton. I said, no.”

“But you know you want ‘em. C’mon. What’s the fun of a group vacation without a little drama?”

His sultry voice gave you whiplash. He was right; you really wanted those marks. Even if it was just a hickey or two. Surely you could come up with some sort of bluff that would save the both of you from an awkward breakfast conversation.

You’ll worry about that in the morning.

“Fine. But don’t go crazy. I’m not good at lying.”

Ashton chuckles, brushing a rogue lock of hair behind your ear. “Did you forget who you’re dealing with? I’ve got the best poker face in the country.”

You roll your eyes at him, silently dismissing him yet excited for what he had up his sleeve. He began to leave little bites across the side of your neck and down towards your collarbone, occasionally replacing teeth with delicate open mouth kisses and darting his tongue out to wet the surface.

“Mmmh, you’re sweet,” Ashton groans, his breath tickling your chest, “Didn’t know you tasted so good. I could eat you right now.”

Your eyes widen at his random pillowtalk and double entendre, a ping of electricity shooting up your spine, “What?”

“Nothin’.”

He hushes you quickly with his lips once more, the rhythm of his hips making you think that you were actually dreaming with how heavenly his rock hard dick felt pressing against you. But you didn’t want to go to any extremes.

You’d save those for that queen sized bed.

You didn’t realize that the soft whimpers and cries floating through the kiss were a little louder than what you thought they’d be, since Ashton had detached your lips to gaze at you scornfully and say only one word.

“Quiet.”

You nod, like a sad little puppy, and follow his instruction. You wanted to tell him how it felt too good to be quiet, but you didn’t want to cause any problems in which he’d need to carry you up to your bedroom and make you think about what you did.

God forbid.

As the two of you made out like you were the last two people on earth, Ashton’s hands wandered down towards the hem of your sleep shorts. You stop short, out of breath, and look at him with distaste.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Ashton,” you whisper, making a point to trail your words against his ear and leave a gentle kiss at his earlobe.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

He then digs his hips down into your core again, you and Ashton moan in unison. The shock in your eyes at how loud the two of you sounded seemed to hit both of you at once. Frazzled faces morphed into smiles as he takes his hand and caresses your face.

“Y’know, maybe we should pick this back up another time.”

You groan indignantly, but couldn’t help agreeing with him.

“A time where we don’t have to be so quiet?”

He nods, turning it into a shrug, “Or maybe tomorrow. Either works.”

You bite your lip, still bewitched by the taste of his tongue and the slow movement of his hips. You didn’t want to give it up. But if there were promises of continuing this tomorrow, you couldn’t really complain.

“Should we just go to bed then?” you ask, running your palm down his chest again with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“I’d prefer not to leave the couch.”

“Why not?”

“This seems like a perfectly good place to fall asleep. Plus, my bed upstairs wouldn’t have you already in it.”

Still unable to argue with such a forgiving face, you sigh dreamily. Falling asleep on the couch with Ashton seemed like a bad idea in theory but then again, he was already shifting around you to get comfortable.

Plus, you wouldn’t want to give up the warmth of his body after finally getting a semblance of what it felt like to be so close.

When you and Ashton eventually find a comfortable position, his body behind yours and spooning you with his arm tucked against your stomach and your head resting along his bicep, you let your tired eyes hold the reins.

Falling asleep to the sound of his gentle breathing and elevated heartbeat had turned into an entirely new favorite thing of yours. Whatever was in the air tonight, from grabbing a glass of water to watching an old classic movie, you weren’t sure you wanted it to end so soon.

Oh, who cares. You’ll deal with that in the morning, too.

#ashton irwin #5sos fanfic #ashton 5sos #ashton irwin fanfic #5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin smut #5sos #ashton irwin x reader #ashton #ashton irwin blurb #blurb

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smoshyourheadin · 8 months ago

Note

getting a cat with spencer?

welcome to the family

pairing: spencer agnew x f! reader

a/n: cat dad spencer 🫶🫶🫶 sorry this is short!!

the shelter was buzzing with activity as you and spencer walked in, greeted by the chorus of meows and purrs circling your ankles . spencer looked around, a mix of excitement and nervousness in his eyes.

"i can't believe we're actually doing this," he said, his voice tinged with a slight disbelief.

"me neither," you replied with a wide grin. "but it's going to be great. we both need a friend."

as you wandered through the rows of cages, a small, gray kitten caught your attention. the kitten looked up with wide, curious eyes, and spencer's face lit up. "what’s about this one?" he asked, crouching next to the crate. the kitten immediately started purring, rubbing against the bars. he pet he head softly, and she leant into him.

"looks like she's chosen you," you said, laughing softly.

spencer gently picked up the kitten, holding her close. "she’s perfect. what should we name her?"

you thought for a moment, watching the kitten snuggle into spencer's arms. "how about samus, because she’s the best?"

spencer giggled at your remark, knowing samus is your favourite nintendo character, nodding. "samus it is. welcome to the family, little gal."

as you handled the adoption paperwork, you couldn’t help but feel a growing excitement. once everything was finalized, you stepped out of the shelter, spencer carefully carrying samus in her new carrier.

on the drive home, spencer kept glancing back at her. "i think she's already settling in," he said, his voice soft and filled with affection.

"she's going to love it with us," you said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "and we’re going to love having her."

back at your apartment, you set up samus’ new bed and toys. spencer released her from the carrier, and she immediately began exploring, her tiny paws padding across the floor. she paused to look up at both of you, as if approving her new home.

spencer crouched down, offering her a toy mouse. "welcome home," he said with a smile.

you joined him on the floor, watching as she pounced on the toy. "i love her," you said, leaning into spencer.

he wrapped an arm around you, nodding in agreement. "i love her too. i love you more though"

#smoshyourheadin #smosh #spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #shayne topp #amanda lehan canto #angela giarratana #courtney miller #arasha lalani #alex tran

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tightjeansjavi · 9 months ago

Text

Now that I’ve been going to the gym more frequently, (go me!) I find myself thinking about what it would be like to work out with Joel…

maybe he’s one of the personal trainers at your local gym, and you can’t take your eyes off of him, and he’s secretly pining for you as well. Sometimes he watches you workout, and he thinks he’s being discreet about it, but you catch him every time. If it were any other man in the gym, you’d feel violated and disgusted, but there’s just something about Joel Miller that sends your pussy pulsing every time you meet his lustful gaze in the mirror.

So, one night you decide you’re finally going to talk to him, and actually talk to him. Not just exchange a few words of meager small talk. The gym is completely empty on this Friday night, and when you don’t immediately see your forbidden gym crush, your heart sinks and you think about turning around and walking straight out the door and back to your car—when you hear an all-too familiar manly grunt in front of the row of ellipticals, and there he fucking is. The man of the hour, shirtless, drenched, and dripping in sweat, haunched on one of the benches with a heavy dumbbell in his grasp. He’s focused on his form in the mirror, making sure he’s engaging the right muscles until he’s distracted by your presence.

His brows raise in amusement before he sets the weight off to the side and swings his strong thighs across the bench so he’s straddling it and facing you completely.

“Well, shit.” He chuckles, reaching for rag to wipe the sweat from his face. “Didn’t even hear ya come in, sweetheart. Thought I was alone.”

You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks as he shamelessly drinks in your gym attire. The way your tits look fucking amazing in that new sports bra you bought. And god—your thighs? He’s already imagining what they would feel like wrapped around his head, crushing his skull just enough that he goes dizzy for a moment.

“Sorry!” You squeak out, adjusting the strap to your gym bag across your shoulder. “I don’t…want to distract you from your workout so I’ll just—”

“S’alright.” He interjects warmly with a boyish grin, “I was just finished with this set, anyway.”

“Cool, cool.” You laugh nervously, tearing your gaze away from him and look towards the direction of the secluded and very private workout room. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but you already have scurried off before he even gets the chance to say anything at all.

He checks the time on his phone; midnight. And then he checks the front doors to see if anyone else might be coming in for a late night workout. The parking lot is completely empty sans yours and his cars. He shrugs, weighing out his options before he pads off in the direction of the private workout room.

You’re too focused on your stretching to even notice his broad stature leaned against the open doorframe, arms crossed over his bare chest, one foot propped up against the door.

“You look pretty fuckin’ stiff.” He dryly comments.

You whip around, an incredulous look briefly washes over your face till you find yourself grinning in his direction. “Yeah? Well, why don’t you come over here and help a gal out?”

He catches your tone, the way you subtly eye him up and down, locking in on the growing tent in his loose gym shorts. “Ya givin’ me permission?” He asks, cocking his head to the side, eagerly awaiting your response.

“Permission, consent. It’s all yours.” You wink and he’s on you immediately, slinking up behind you like a damn cat. He’s so fucking big up close, muscles flexing in the mirror when he wraps his arm around you from behind and pulls your back flush against his chest. “Relax.” He rasps, “can’t fuck ya when you’re this fuckin’ stiff.” He quips, and drops his freehand between your thighs, dragging his fingers right through the covered seam of your pussy, feeling just how wet you already are, and it’s all for him.

“Fuuck.” He chuckles, “your pretty little pussy is already droolin’ for me, huh? Yeah, she fuckin’ is. Gonna give ‘er a real proper stretch in jus’ a minute.”

And he does just that, with his fingers, his cock, and he finds out just how powerful your thighs really are.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #pre outbreak!joel #personal trainer!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller au

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biibini · 1 year ago

Note

Its okay if you dont wanna do this but i really wanna know what you think mizu would do when reader gets her period

modern!mizu x reader gets her period (request)

tags: period, cuddling, fluff, kissing, modern au, modern mizu, mizu being best girl

a/n: ok midterms r coming up so soon HAHAHAHAH (im so nervous)

modern!mizu would def have the supplies

but i’d feel like she’d carry the lighter, smaller pads

but on most days, mizu would be a tampon user

to ur surprise, she typically uses panty liners for the majority of her period

and even if she does get a heavy period, she can handle it on most days

(yeah im fucking jealous i wish that was me)

like perfect silky hair and thin pads???

mizu my girl

hand those genes over

anyways

she would have aspirin and a hot pack on hand if u need it

when she was growing up, they used to be super heavy but now they've become lighter

if ur a heavy flow typa gal,

oh lord its extra packs for mizu to buy

at first, she would be rlly confused at the sizing and the number of flaps/extensions the pads would have

and what specific color to buy

(iykyk my heavy flow girls will know)

but she doesnt mind, u need them

as long as her girl is covered and safe and sound

if ur a tampon girl, mizu would double check to make sure she got ur brand when she goes shopping

modern!mizu would notice ur cycles, especially the week beforehand when ur rlly moody

whether its u being acting more impatient or upset than usual

she checks and makes sure that she has the necessities at hand

if she doesnt, she’ll say she’s just gonna run some errands

technically its not a lie

she does go to the closest convenience store

but the errands in question: pads/tampons and something sweet

(personally im a chocolate sweets girlie)

she’ll get u a lil sweet treat that’ll last u for a week or two

modern!mizu would also pour an extra cup of tea for u before bed

she just wants u to be as comfortable as u can be during ur period

and if u guys are cuddling and watching something before bed

she’ll make sure to keep u comfortable

“Mizu, pleaseeee. Just one more episode?”, you plead. You guys had just finished the second to last episode of the show. Sure, you felt a little tired. But the thought of moving and crawling off of Mizu’s chest didn’t outweigh the comfort of the couch.

Mizu sighs.

“You always do this and then you end up falling asleep.”, Mizu states as she grabs the remote control.

“Not necessarily-“, you rebute. Technically, she wasn’t wrong with your history of falling asleep. But not this time.

“Mmhmm. Right…”, she responds, a little sass in her tone.

You pout. “Please. I promise, I’ll stay up.”

You place your warm cup of tea aside, allowing you to wrap your arms around Mizu’s neck. You feel the heat of her neck against your forearms.

“Besides, it’s the final episode.”, you smile. You look at Mizu for sign of defeat.

“Ok fineeee,” she clicks on the next episode button, “Stay awake now. I’m not summarizing it this time.”

You plant a kiss on her cheek, pulling her closer to your body. She places her mug next to yours and letting her arms wrap around your body. You feel the warmth of her hands press against your body, almost burning from the hot tea.

“I promise I won’t.”, you assure as you sit back against Mizu’s chest again. You feel Mizu’s arms relax and allow you to prep yourself before watching the finale.

Mizu smiles as she felt your body lay back on hers. Your weight alongside the blanket you’re sharing relaxes her. You feel her arms gently wrap around you again as you hear the intro to the episode play.

Her hands start to drag along your sides to your stomach. You feel her burning palm place itself on the top of your lower stomach. Its presence shared a similarity to a heat pad.

You hum in response. While her right hand is busy drawing attention to your lower stomach, you feel her other hand wrap around you and pull you closer. You feel her lips lightly graze your shoulder.

“Mizu, it feels good but-”, you say as her right hand starts to gently massage your stomach.

Fuck. That feels so nice.

You hold back a groan. “Not here, hon.”, you say as you nod your head towards Ringo’s bedroom door.

“I know, don’t worry.”, Mizu responds as she places a soft kiss near your neck. “I just want you to feel comfortable now. You’re on your period, right?”

You nod in response.

“So c’mere. I’ll keep you nice and warm.”

modern!mizu would put ur towel in the dryer while u shower

ik its oddly specific

but i feel like she would make sure to make u feel warm in any way possible

with or without heat pad

same concept applies for the blanket

shes always so thankful her and ringo got an apartment with an in-unit washer dryer

when ur washing up, she’ll typically be doing some light studying with some tea before bed

a break inbetween would be the pop the towel in the dryer

next break is swapping out the towel for the blanket

final break is bringing back the blanket right before u get into bed

its a strange strategy but it helps her stay focused and paces herself while synonymously taking care of u

modern!mizu would make sure she’s wrapping her arms around ur lower stomach when ur cuddling at night

the heating pad gets annoying to sleep with

especially if u tend to toss and turn at night

but having her hands warm u helps u relax at night

when ur trying to sleep, she’ll gently caress and massage ur stomach to help release any tension

at first, u thought it wouldnt have an effect on u

but the more she did it, the more relieved u felt at night

mizu would also feel relaxed knowing that u r relaxed as well

when she heard ur snores, she knows shes done a job well done

#ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ reqs for bini #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu bes #mizu x reader #blue eye samurai #bes mizu #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu headcanons #mizu x y/n #mizu x you #modern mizu #mizu #modern mizu headcanons #modern au blue eye samurai #modern au mizu #modern mizu x reader

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0mysticmidnight0 · 9 months ago

Note

Hey so can I get a scenario of Rise donnie s/o just randomly sleeping in his lab. Like they sometimes don’t tell him they are in there when he is not there and they go in and sleep in there when they are tired and he happens to leave it open. The dark purple lighting and heavy padded chair give a cozy feeling that they end up falling asleep easier in there than anywhere else in the entire place

I can relate to this personally. I'M A VERY SLEEPY GAL. So, this is how i think it would go! i have like 14 more requests in my inbox..

-Donnie did not get at all why you slept so much. Why would you waste more than the maximum required time for a human being to rest when you could do way more? What confused him more was that you only slept that much in his lab. At first he thought you would sleep that well anywhere. but no.. it was just his lab.

-After he started picking up this behavior, he'd prepare a little cozy area for you in the corner of his lab. Bean bag, snacks and a warm weighted blanket. All purple of course! it was still HIS lab.

-When he's sleepy or just finished pulling an all nighter and is too lazy to get too bed, he'll sleep in your little cozy area. If you're there when he's in said sleepy mood, he'll allow cuddles!

-You always slept better when you were near Donnie. You always did. You couldn't quite put your finger on it. Imagine your surprise when your cozy area smelled like him. You practically passed out in less than a minute.

-Donnie's favorite sight might be seeing you fast asleep in his hoodie in that lil cozy area wearing shorts. He'd definitely cuddle you, give a few kisses and if you woke up, he'd deny ever doing such a thing.

-probably examined you on why you slept so much. (HE GOT WORRIEDDDD)

From: MysticMidnight

#rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #rise tmnt #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2018 #tmnt #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donnie #rise donatello

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whimsyfinny · 4 months ago

Text

He’s a Winchester

Chapter 5

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: It's been a long time since (Y/n) and Dean's paths have crossed. Last time they saw each other it was ‘98 and they were young and living in the moment. Nine years down the Line, their paths cross again, but (Y/n)s longest kept secret is about to become Deans reality.

Slow burn (ish), mom!reader

Warnings: language, alcohol, lots of feelings, small angst, bullying, reader being a victim

Chapter Word Count: 6639

MDNI 18+

A/N: sorry this took so long! Life has been a lot aha. I kinda feel like I’ve rambled on with this one, so I’m sorry about that… I also feel like this was kinda a filler chapter? Idk, I’m sorry if this one isn’t as exciting… Either way, I hope you like it! As always, it's only proofread by moi, so let me know of any errors. Also feedback is greatly appreciated!

A/N2: GUYS IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING but PLEEEEASE provide your age if you want to be added to the taglist and it isn’t in your blog. This story is tame now but it’s gonna get spicy, and my blog is strictly 18+. So pleeeeease save be a very long job and help a gal out.

Photos from Pinterest

New Readers Start Here: Chapter 1

Previous Chapter: Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Sunday mornings were the only time we could get away with being lazy. I would crawl out of bed at around eight o’clock - compared to my normal six o’clock - and shuffle downstairs in my pyjamas in search of coffee whilst Levi was either still sleeping or playing Guitar Hero on the PS2, quietly by himself. On this particular Sunday morning, however, I did indeed venture downstairs at just gone eight, and instead of finding one young boy playing video games by himself, I was greeted with the sight of him battling it out with his uncle whilst his dad sat and watched, critiquing his techniques. I padded in quietly, pulling my long soft cardigan around me further as I tried my best to watch on unseen, enjoying this moment just as much as they were and unwilling to pop their happy bubble. I watched for a few minutes, seeing how Sam didn't go easy on Levi just because he was a kid, and how Dean couldn't seem to take his eyes off his son who was entirely immersed in the game, a soft smile taking up permanent residence on his lips. Dean turned his head slightly and caught sight of me in the archway, that soft smile evolving into a pulse quickening grin. He stood quickly, striding over to me with those plaid pyjama pants distractingly low on his hips.

“G’mornin’ sweetheart, you sleep ok?” He was now a few inches away and smelt like coffee and warm linen - it was the sort of scent that wrapped around me and drew me in with an almost dangerous nature.

“Like the dead,” I grinned, looking up at him, “though I'm not surprised after all those beers and our 1AM bedtime. You're a bad influence Winchester,” I poked his chest and had to fight back a groan when I felt how frustratingly firm his muscles were beneath his grey henley. Instead of vocalising my ‘annoyance’, I bit my lip, which in its own way I suppose was worse. Worse, because now those mossy green eyes were looking at my mouth, their gaze lingering before looking back up to my eyes.

“What can I say except I had a good time? It was nice catching up like that. It was like…”

“Like we’d gone back to a simpler time?”

“Like we'd never been apart.”

Those words held a sudden weight to them that thumped deep in my chest.

“Yeah,” I said quietly, my eyes not leaving him, “I know what you mean”.

We both seemed caught up for a moment, silent and unmoving - just watching each other. He seemed totally steady, save for the deep inhale he took when I held his gaze just a little too long. He cleared his throat, breaking the trance that seemed too quick to have ever even existed in the first place.

“Coffee?” He asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder towards the kitchen.

“Coffee sounds great,” I smiled, glancing over to Sam and Levi who'd still failed to notice my arrival.

Dean and I paced leisurely to the kitchen where I was pleasantly surprised to see a pot of coffee already brewed, just waiting to be poured. Dean reached into the overhead cupboard, already learning where things were and selected two mugs. Pouring the hot liquid into both of them before handing me one, we both leant against the counter as I relished the warmth seeping through the ceramic and into my fingertips.

“You know,” I took a sip, humming in satisfaction, “I could get used to this,” my words felt dangerous the moment they slipped from my lips, a part of me kicking myself for vocalising such internal thoughts. Deans eyes widened almost fast enough for me to miss before his gaze returned to normal, his lips parting slightly as his mug paused on the elevation to his mouth. But once that half a second was over, it was like the fleeting surprise never happened. He simply hummed in agreement, his eyes soft and warm.

“Did you sleep ok?” I said quickly, taking the attention away from my earlier slip of words. He grinned with a nod.

“You have no idea how nice it is to sleep somewhere that's not musty and dusty and a possible crime scene from back in the eighties.” I grinned much like he did, my mind suddenly filling with images of brown and orange decor, unwashed bedsheets and spiders who might as well pay rent because they’ve been there so long.

“Well I can assure you that you're safe from all of that here - though no promises on the eighties crime scene, I have no idea who lived in this house back then.”

Deans grin turned more self assured as he raised an eyebrow at me.

“You don't think the equipment I brought would've made a noise if there was something here that went bump in the night?”

“Equipment?” I almost snorted, “you mean the EMF thing that you made on ‘pimp my Walkman’?”

Dean practically clutched his pearls.

“How dare you - that thing is a work of art. Blood, sweat and tears went into that masterpiece,” by the end of his sentence he was grinning again, almost like he knew he was talking out of his ass.

“Uh huh. Sure thing baby.”

Shit.

Deans lips twitch upwards as the intensity of his gaze sparks up something hot before quickly dying out, his posture straightening as he lifts his mug to his mouth again. I kick myself a second time for letting the term of endearment roll off my tongue. I’d never had this issue before - accidentally calling people nicknames or anything of the sort. I’d dated guys who had perfectly reasonable names that I always remembered to call them. Yet Dean… he stood here, in my kitchen after almost a decade and somehow still managed to turn my brain to butter. It was hard to describe, as surely I couldn’t still feel that way for someone who I’d been parted from for so long with not a whisper of their name from anyone's lips but my own. I no longer knew him. Nine years of time and life and experiences will have sculpted Dean and everything that I knew him to be into a totally different person…wouldn’t it? Hell, maybe he’s even got a girlfriend somewhere out there who's waiting for him to return to her, but he’s just been too nice to mention it. That, or I’ve been too selfishly wrapped up in things that used to be us to even think of asking. Perhaps the mushy consistency of my brain was simply another symptom of some so-called ‘muscle memory’, as my current behaviour was always how I’d been around him. Flirty. Playful. Infatuated. Perhaps I simply didn’t know how else to act; how to be normal in his presence because I knew he’s seen every inch of me, both physically and philosophically. He’d seen my ugly days yet he’d still kissed away the turmoil without so much as a second thought. Maybe, just maybe, I needed to reel myself back in - take myself back to before we were star crossed lovers. Before the memories were made and our hearts beat to the same tune. Back when we were just two people who would laugh and joke and stay up late. Perhaps that would make this all easier.

“There’s that name again,” Deans low drawl snapped me from my internal debate, an unreadable expression dawning on his features.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just- I don’t think my mouth and brain are working together anymore,” I sighed, fighting to keep some sliver of amusement in my voice.

“Oh yeah?” a smirk appeared on Deans face, that playful glint returning to his eye as he chewed his bottom lip as though having an internal debate of his own. Who knows what side won, but I’m sure some form of sleep depravity was involved with his next few words: “I remember a time when your mouth didn’t need your brain and it worked just fine on its own.” If his aim here was to make me flustered, he’d sure as hell succeeded as heat bloomed across my cheeks and my mouthful of coffee was spat back into my cup with a splutter.

“Dean!”

He released an almost wicked laugh, clearly pleased with himself for my reaction. If he was going to be making comments like that on a regular basis, it was going to prove extremely difficult for ‘operation: we’re just friends’ to be in full effect.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I’ll stop,” his words were softer yet the edge of amusement was still present.

I scowled at him with as much venom as a fucking wetwipe, my own amused grin straining at my lips.

“You better,” I jabbed a finger into his chest before placing my half empty coffee mug on the counter, turning away from him to rummage through the kitchen cupboards. I turned back around a moment later and thrust four bowls in his hands along with four spoons and two large cereal boxes.

“Put these on the table before you say anything else that might cause me to choke on my coffee.”

I watched a choking innuendo pass right before his eyes yet he bit his tongue and pursed his lips, taking a moment before his eyebrows rose slightly.

“Were you always this bossy?”

“I’m not bossy, I just have a child who needs to be fed. Now, table,” I pointed to the items in his arms before pointing to their designated destination.

“You could at least say ‘please’,” his tone was growing taunting and it drew a sigh from my chest.

“Fine. Can you put those things on the table, please.”

“Hmm… I don’t feel like you meant that, it felt a little… I don't know… hostile?” The grin was now in full effect.

“DEAN.”

“Ok! I’m going!” he turned and did as I asked, finally setting the table for all four of us.

Breakfast passed by with so much ease it was as though we’d done it every day of our lives. Sam and Levi continued to talk about Guitar Hero whilst Dean listened, chipping in the classic rock trivia where he could. The whole time, I just sat, listened and watched, absorbing everything about this moment in time and doing whatever I could to make this a core memory. I breathed in, telling myself to remember the smell of sugar and coffee in the air, along with the new and unfamiliar masculine undertone of cologne and old leather. I looked around, watching how the golden morning light made their hair and skin glow in shades of amber and white, the small dust particles in the air illuminated like fireflies. The sound of their animated chatter was soft, creating a serene ambiance that was as pleasant on the ears as notes from a music box. Everything about this moment was all I’d dreamt of; from the fully occupied breakfast table to the relaxed atmosphere, and the cherry on the cake was knowing that these men were family. Levis family. He had a dad and an uncle who wanted to cherish him and spend time with him, to make him feel so important and loved that it made up for nearly nine years of absence. I know, deep, deep down that part of this was from them feeling guilty - Dean more so than Sam - yet that was only a small part. Their love and affection for him stemmed from something real and it was so easy to see, so fucking clear on their faces, that it made me want to cry. And that feeling was so fucking strong that I had to excuse myself from the table and freshen up in the bathroom, barely able to utter a word to them as I stepped away.

After taking five and splashing some water on my face I emerged from the bathroom and headed back downstairs. Sam and Levi were back in front of the playstation, this time playing Need for Speed, and Dean remained at the table, another coffee between his palms as he leant forwards, staring into the liquid. He must’ve heard me coming as he looked up with a slightly concerned expression.

“You ok?” he asked.

“Yeah,” my voice didn’t come out as level as I’d hoped, so I diverted the conversation. “I thought that’d be you over there playing Need for Speed. How come you’re over here glaring at your coffee?”

“Ahh, we’ve been up for a while and I spent about an hour on Guitar Hero with Levi before you came down. Plus…” the small smile on his lips that appeared when he looked over at his son was now directed towards me, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Uh oh, I hate it when sentences start like that.”

“No, it’s nothing bad. I just…uhhh… well, last night when we were talking, you said something that I can’t stop thinking about,” despite his calm expression, his knuckles were starting to turn white around his cup.

“I said a lot of things last night, Dean, you’re going to ha-”

“Let me take you out.”

“What?”

“Let me take you out,” he repeated, but this time softer and slower, “you said last night that you never get to go out for drinks anymore and that you’ve had some pretty shit dates,” we both grimaced slightly at the thought of that. “ Well… I’m here. Let me take you out. Levi is at a sleepover tonight so you have nothing to worry about where he’s concerned,” he took a deep breath and reached across the table to place his hand, warm and large, over mine. “Let me do something nice for you, like you deserve.” There was a pause as silence settled between us for a moment. He wanted to take me out. Like, a date, or just as old friends, or as co-parents…? I had no idea what his angle was on this. Did he want to have sex? Was that it? Was he just trying to get his dick wet? Old Dean would occasionally pull those tricks with me, though they were usually few and far between, but would the new Dean do that? Was it even a low bar thing to do? Maybe it’s a pity date, and he’s only taking me out because I’ve been so incapable of being able to replace him with someone who is better - who probably doesn’t even exist - that he’s now just feeling sorry for me. Why, oh why the ever living fuck am I even over analysing this? Dean wanted to take me for drinks so why should I care what his motive is. This is a fucking opportunity for me to relax and let loose a little. To not be mom for a few hours. To be me. And why should I care if he wants to fuck me? I should be flattered, right? That he possibly still finds me attractive? And I can’t deny that it’s been a while since I’ve had half decent sex - or any sex at all for this matter.

“Yes,” I blurted, perhaps a little aggressively.

“Yes?” he smiles again, that easy, contagious smile, “you’ll let me take you on a date?”

“So it is a date?” I couldn’t help but mirror his grin, adding my own amused tone.

“Wasn’t that obvious?”

“Well, no, you said you’d ‘take me out’. That could mean anything. You could’ve meant with a fucking gun.”

Dean erupted into laughter, shaking his head. That laugh. I remember likening it to a favourite song that was so easy to put on repeat. It was addictive.

“Ok, so I’m not taking you out with a gun. I’m taking you out on a date. Have I dumbed it down enough for ya’ know?”

“If you were any clearer you’d be transparent,” I said, my tone bordering on mocking.

“Great, well, me and Sammy have a few loose ends to tie up from this case we’re on, so we need to head out soon. We’ll be back by the evening though, soooo…. Be ready for six?”

I nodded eagerly, watching as he stood from the table. The sight of him in the henley - plaid bottoms combo makes me want to have a cozy day indoors, watching nothing but scary movies and scarfing down popcorn and cookie dough. The sigh I heave from my lungs was totally involuntary.

“Yeah,” I smile, “six is perfect.”

Kat and Toby arrived at the house around noon. Whilst the boys race upstairs to get on with God-knows-what, Kat strides in with a knowing smirk when she clocks the duffle bags that are clearly not mine beside the couch, along with the lingering aroma that's distinctly masculine intertwining with the pumpkin spice from my scented candles. As I studied her face for all but a few seconds, I braced myself for the flurry of questions that I knew were buzzing around her mind.

“Sooooo…” her tone was already amused as she flopped down onto the couch. “Anything you need to tell me?”

“What? Who do you think I am?” I scoff at her words, yet my pulse quickens at the thought of telling her about my plans for tonight.

“I think you're a woman still in love with her childhood sweetheart and that he's already sweeping you off your feet.”

“I am not still in love with him. I can't possibly be in love with someone I've not seen for almost a decade.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Bitch, don't ‘mmm hmm’ me. I'm not in love with Dean.”

“Would you fuck him?”

“God yes.”

“So you're keeping him around for the possibility of good dick?”

I threw myself down beside her on the couch, pulling a throw cushion into my lap.

“No, that is so not true. I can't believe you'd think me so shallow,” I held my hand to my chest in mock devastation. She hummed again.

“Didn't you do that to what's-his-face?”

“Who?”

“The guy you dated about a year ago, drove around in that Mustang?”

“Oh shit yeah! I think his name was Chad? Or maybe Brad…? Ok yeah, I did kinda keep him around for his dick… and his car. That car was awesome.”

“You shallow, shallow bitch.”

I threw the cushion which hit her square in the face, likely leaving a print of her lipstick behind on the soft fabric.

“But that was just some dude that was only with me so he could fucking tick ‘banged a milf’ off his bucket list. This is Dean I'm talking about. He's… well… he's Dean. And he's not here for me. He's here for Levi. Don't blame a man for wanting to stick around when he's just found out he's got a kid,” I gave her a look that said ‘I fucking love you but please can we drop this now’, and she did, one final hum moving past her lips. We stared at each other for a moment, her expression one of a studious nature and mine one of feigned innocence. This woman could read me like a book, and I both simultaneously loved and hated it. I loved it, because when something went wrong, and quite often in my life things did, she just knew. She knew to be at mine that same evening with a bottle of red and a bucket of popcorn, pyjamas on and the boys asleep upstairs. This woman had slept in my bed more times than any man as we continued to have sleepovers like teenagers well into our twenties. Alcoholic sleepovers. Yet I hated how she read me like a book, because like right now, if I was in denial about anything or for some absurd reason trying to keep a secret, she would just know. She was like a fucking mind reader. I chuckled inwardly at the thought of that being true. Maybe Dean should scan her with his Walkman and freak her out. Maybe then she'd get off my case about me still being in love with him. I'm not in love with him.

“You still aren't telling me something,” her voice was even, the amusement fading slightly as she stared at me, waiting for me to stop beating around the bush. Under the heat of her stare I caved, sighing and slumping even further into the soft cushions behind me.

“He's taking me out…on a date.”

“I FUCKING knew it!”

“What?! How would you know that?!” I almost jumped as she flew forward in her seat, the gleam back in her eyes as she grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

“I didn't know that exactly, but bitch I knew you were hiding something juicy!”

“It's not juicy! It's casual - just drinks. I’m gonna wear jeans.”

“Oh yeah, because flaunting the curvature of ones ass makes it casual…”

“Aren’t you here to collect my kid or something?” I launch into my last resort to end this hellish interrogation - which involved kicking her out.

“Babes you can kick me out of your house but you can’t ignore this,” she stood slowly, her ‘all-knowing’ expression un-faltering.

“Kat, it’s only day two of him being here! You are getting way ahead of yourself,” I stood with her, shaking my head.

“Two days plus the whole freakin’ year you were dating. That man is not a stranger to you. Hell, you’ve probably had that coc-”

“THANK YOU, Kat! I love you, you are the yin to my fucking yang but please for the love of CHRIST - shut up!”

Her expression finally cracked and she practically cackled at my discomfort, making her way to the stairs to get the boys.

“Bitch, if I don’t get details about tonight then -”

“Ok I’ll tell you! But seriously, don’t read into it too much, it’s just drinks.”

She strutted to the bottom of the stairs before ascending, calling over her shoulder; “Sure, whatever you say honey!”

It took longer than I'd have hoped, but Kat eventually left with the boys for the remainder of the day. As soon as they'd left the building, it was like I could breathe again - like the house could breathe again. It was a rare occasion for me to have the place to myself for five minutes, let alone a whole twenty four hours. It was like I could finally hear my own thoughts again after the busy breakfast and Kat's dire interrogation. The silence was bliss. It was pure bliss as I made myself a coffee and settled comfortably on the couch, taking a moment to myself. It was blissful right up until my own thoughts started banging at the door in the back of my mind. Thoughts about Dean, and his motives and my motives. Suddenly my relaxing afternoon to myself was quickly becoming a caged-in trap for my internal thoughts to run wild, the drums of possibilities sounding in the far reaches of my brain, beating faster and faster the closer they drew. Almost as quickly as I'd sat down, I jumped up and headed to the store cupboard under the stairs. One thing that could distract me was cleaning, so that's exactly what I was going to do.

I blitzed the house from top to bottom, hoovering, mopping, cleaning mirrors and windows, dusting and evening folding the pile of laundry that was starting to become part of the furniture. Much to my dismay, that only took up two hours of my time, so I was left with the only other task that I hate more than folding hundreds of small human sized pieces of fabric. Grocery shopping.

After a manic stock take of the fridge, cupboards and pantry, I made a list, grabbed my bag, threw on my jacket and headed out.

I'd been shopping around the small town convenience store for around twenty minutes, browsing the aisles and throwing everything - plus some extras - from my list into the aggravatingly wonky trolley. I hated grocery shopping with a passion - the constant beeping from the checkouts, the passive aggressive road rage between trolley users, and the dozens of obscenely slow browsers frustrated me beyond belief. I was normally able to push it to a big haul every two weeks, but with the prospect of Sam and Dean staying a while, it was a safe bet to fill the house to the brim with snacks and meals alike. With the lifestyle that those two lived, I can't imagine that they're overly fussy eaters, and I have a hunch that Dean still loves turkey dinosaurs.

The cereal aisle wasn't supposed to be an eventful place - deciding between Cookie Crisp and Cinnamon Squares should be the highlight of this venture. However as my luck would have it, it became eventful.

“Oh hi! (Y/n)!”

I looked up from my crumpled list and was greeted with three faces that I recognised but not to the point of acquaintanceship.

“Uhh, hi? Can I help you?”

“I just wanted to say that it's so great to finally see that Levi's father is around. It's just so important, isn't it? For a boy to have that male role model,” the first woman spoke; her peroxide blonde hair looked so overbleached it may as well have been straw on her head, and it almost distracted me from her painfully patronising voice.

“Excuse me? Do I know you?” My voice started to take on a defensive edge as my palms immediately grew sweaty, this situation already making me uncomfortable.

She laughed, looking over at her friend's like I'd asked some stupid fucking question.

“Our son's go to the same school - you should really know this.”

“Well, if our sons aren't friends, then why would I need to?”

She took a deep breath.

“I just think it's funny how someone like you managed to get someone like… what's his name… Dean? Isn't he a little out of your league?”

My pulse thrummed as my frustration grew with the sudden, unsolicited and blatant attack. How the fuck did they know Deans name? Someone must've overheard us at Jolenes'... or maybe at the track? And what the fuck did she mean by ‘out of my league’? If she was insinuating what I thought she was, then she's going to need to head over to the fucking freezer aisle real freaking soon.

“Excuse me?”

She smirked, knowing she was sinking her plastic fucking talons into my skin already.

“Oh I think you heard me. Does Dean know? That you trapped him? When you got pregnant on purpose at nineteen?”

My blood began to boil as I white knuckled the handle of the trolley to stop myself from punching her square between the eyes.

“Fuck you; I didn't ‘trap him’. Is that really what you cliquey bitches think?” I was equal parts furious and heartbroken. Furious, because how fucking dare they assume that just because Dean is a God tier DILf that I fooled him into getting me pregnant all those years ago. And heartbroken because, well, is that really what the people in this town thought of me? If these women thought that, then who's to say half the town don't think the same? Or maybe more - maybe it's the whole freaking town with Kat being the only exception, and I've been living so cocooned in my own bubble that it never even occurred to me. But Dean has barely even been here a day, so I can’t exactly blame myself for being so wrapped up in my own life with everything going on. How can people form such strong opinions so quickly when they don’t even know the whole story? My story with Dean. Not theirs. They’ve somehow managed to put two and two together to come up with negative fucking ten, and I’ll be damned if I let them drag our names through the mud.

“Oh honey, we know that you tricked him. A man like that, with that face and physique would never have chosen you willingly, right? I mean, you really don’t look his type.”

“Oh, and you do? Because you know Dean so well?”

“That’s enough!” We were caught off guard by the oldest of the three, a woman perhaps in her fifties, snapping in a clipped tone. “Michelle, that’s quite enough, you’re taking this too far now. And you,” she turned to me with a stern gaze, “that man looks like trouble. We don’t like those sorts around here; you tell him to behave himself.” My anger and frustration was quickly melting into straight up irritation.

“Look, lady-”

“Karen.”

“Sure, ok… look, Deans a grown ass man, he can do whatever the fuck he likes - he’s here on a job. I’m not telling him to do shit.”

“Language! Such a foul mouth-”

“Is he single?” our heads quickly snapped to the third woman of the group - younger than the other two but still a little older than myself. She was a near double of the blonde from the hair to the clothes to the claws, yet she seemed to lack the spite.

“What?” yet another question that caught me off guard. What the fuck is wrong with these women?

“Dean, is he single? I mean, I’ve not seen him, but from how you describe him, he seems hot,” she twirled a lock of hair around her finger like a school girl despite likely being in her thirties.

“Hannah you’re married,” Karen chimed in with obvious disgust.

That was it, the last fucking straw. I’d had enough of the ambush from three women that I barely even knew. I adjusted my grip on the trolley and quickly planned my escape route, spotting an opening in the crowd to the side. I gritted my teeth and steeled my gaze, the bitter taste of disgust, fury, and disappointment coating my tongue as I all but spat my words.

“This has been a riveting conversation, truely, but I’m leaving. Now,” and with that I hastily left them behind, finishing my shopping with the dark cloud of judgement looming over me.

The urge to cry hot, angry tears in the car on the ride home was a battle I didn't want to fight. The intensity of the emotions brewing in the pit of my stomach and bubbling into my chest was so strong, so consuming that I didn't even realise I was pulling into my own driveway, having completed the short journey on what I like to call ‘blackout autopilot’. One tear was shed over the shitshow, and in my opinion, that was one tear too many. I was annoyed at myself with having let it get to me so much, knowing I'd grown thicker skin than this. It wasn't the first time I'd been confronted, like a fucking black sheep in a blindingly white flock, yet for some reason, this got to me. At this point, I was drained from even thinking about it, so I grabbed the groceries, making several trips to get them all in the house, put away the fridge and freezer items and left the rest on the counter to deal with later. Right now, I needed a large glass of wine and something to distract myself with. So I decided on the only thing I had going for me at this point in time.

Time to pick an outfit for tonight.

My bedroom was a modest size and the king-size bed practically consumed the room. I had a large, sliding mirrored-door wardrobe that was built into the structure of the room which I flung open and started to rummage through as soon as I made it upstairs.

I'd told myself - and Kat - that it was casual. Dean had implied it, so this shouldn't be too hard to find something nice to wear.

Wrong.

I must've spent the best part of an hour trying on dozens of different tops with my only pair of ‘nice’ jeans - those ones that hugged my ass and thighs just right. I tried long sleeves, short sleeves, chiffon, cotton, satin, opaque, obscenely translucent, bright, monochrome and in all honesty, I felt inadequate in every single one. I'd never really been one to feel overly self conscious of how I looked, but for some absurd reason, this date with Dean was making me flustered. It had me worried that he wouldn’t like how I looked, especially since I’d had Levi and my body had changed in a way that he didn’t know just yet.

Just yet.

I cursed myself slightly, shaking that idea from my head. Yes, I’ve had plenty of time to try and get myself back to normal, but some things just weren't the same anymore, and probably never would be. I hated the fact that I was even stressed about this. The safest option was to just go for something comfortable, so I donned a stretchy, low-cut and long sleeved black top and slid on a pair of black closed-toe heels before sitting down at my dresser.

I’d just opened my makeup bag when I heard the door downstairs open and close, quickly followed by the oddly comforting sounds of Sam and Deans voices floating through the house and up the stairs. I turned to myself in the mirror, sighing at the tired looking woman staring back at me. Get your shit together, (Y/n), Dean is taking you on a date. I grasped my over-sharpened eyeliner pencil that was likely no longer than an inch in length and got to work. I suddenly flinched and nearly poked myself in the eye when Dean appeared in my bedroom doorway.

“Jesus, Dean! You scared the crap out of me - I didn’t even hear you come up the stairs.”

He grinned slightly as he leant against the wooden frame, large arms crossing over his chest.

“Sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to…” his voice trailed off and I could feel his eyes on me, as though he was searching for something. A few moments went by in silence, and right as I was about to turn to him, he spoke.

“Hey, are you ok?” His voice was dangerously soft, and concerned in a way that could easily have me weeping in his arms. Because of the shitty afternoon I’d had, I feel like it wouldn’t take much kindness from him to have me crumble - no matter how much I’d hate myself for it afterwards. Instead, I pushed everything down as best as I could and turned to him with a weak smile.

“Yeah, I’m ok. I’ve had a bit of a weird, shitty afternoon but I won’t ruin your evening with it.” At my words he pulled a face, his own words quickly following.

“It’s your evening. And if there’s something eating at you, you know you can talk to me. Just like you used to,” his smile was back, warm and comforting and like a balm over a burn. I looked back at myself in the mirror for a moment, debating if it was even worth talking about. If it was anyone but Dean, I wouldn’t hesitate to keep this to myself. But it was Dean, and I hated to say it, but he was always good at dealing with me when I was like this in the past. I turned to him and let his calming presence seep into my bones, desperately trying to take it on myself.

“Ok,” I said quietly, “I’ll tell you at the bar. But I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, and I don’t want to talk about it all evening,” He nodded.

“Whatever you need sweetheart,” he stood up straight and said something about getting ready himself before he left the room, leaving me to finish up before finally heading downstairs.

It was roughly another fifteen minutes before I made my way down; Dean already waiting for me in the archway to the kitchen. He looked up as he heard me coming, eyes brightening when he grinned at me.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” his voice was smooth and deep, a flirtatious undertone rumbling in his chest.

“Not so bad yourself Winchester,” I walked up to stand in front of him, almost toe-to-toe. I looked him over, taking in the black shirt he wore, untucked and paired his jeans. The boots and brown leather jacket remained the same, yet I could see the damp patches on both from where he’d scrubbed either mud or blood from the fabric - perhaps both. It wouldn’t be the first time. I took a deep breath, my pulse quickening as his scent filled my senses.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked, removing a hand from his pocket and let it hang awkwardly at his side. I shook my head.

“Not yet, I sometimes forget to eat when Levi isn’t around.” Dean shot me a look that could have been both concerned or protective.

“Ok, well I’m taking you for dinner too then.”

“What? No Dean, you really don’t have t-”

“Don’t argue with me sweetheart, I'm fucking feeding you,” his tone was final, leaving no room for negotiation so I sighed in defeat.

“Fine, but we’re not going anywhere expensive.”

His smirk widened across his face as he continued to look down at me, finally placing that awkwardly hanging hand on the small of my back, guiding me to the door. He shouted a ‘goodbye’ to Sam over his shoulder and, without really waiting for a reply, he ushered me out of the house and towards the car, locking up behind us. I walked up to the black vehicle, the excitement starting to bubble at the thought of going for a ride in her again after all this time. As Dean walked up to me, he opened the passenger side door, letting me hop in first. I took my seat, quickly dumping my bag and jacket in the footwell so I could softly run my fingertips over the perfectly maintained leather seats, noticing how not a thing had changed - not even the box of cassettes on the back seat. As Dean slid into the drivers seat, his expression something akin to pride, he couldn’t help but comment on my reaction to being back in the impala.

“I bet you missed Baby more than you missed me,” he joked, turning the key and letting the engine roar into life. I bit my lip, leaning back in my seat.

“I missed you both equally,” the humorous tone came easily, my earlier worries already started to feel insignificant as they slipped away with every tick of the engine.

“Equally?” he echoed, feigning hurt, “you don’t even prefer me just a little bit more?”

I pretended to ponder intently, holding a finger to my lips as I crossed my arms over my chest. An obnoxious string of ‘hmmms’ slipped through my lips before I saw him roll his eyes, still grinning.

“Yeah, I guess I do. Especially since you're taking me on a date,” my own words made my heart flutter and luckily he'd moved his gaze from me to the road as he pulled out of my drive. My face felt warm and I cursed at myself for being so easily affected by him already, entranced by the way those long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel and the muscles in his jaw flexed under the glow of the passing street lamps. I couldn't deny that he was still painfully attractive, even after all this time. If I was being honest with myself, he was making it incredibly difficult to concentrate on much else right now. If drinks were soon to be involved, there was a very high chance of me making a total ass of myself in front of him.

Tonight was likely going to be one to remember.

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