#i scrolled through tumblr while sitting at the table

[yourplaceinaugust]

my roommate officially moved out yesterday (she hasn't lived here for a few months but her stuff was still here) and so i was finally able to buy a proper kitchen table and my parents helped me set it up today and im so excited ive literally just been sitting at the table for hours

[spencerreidenjoyer]

welcome home | spencer reid x reader

word count: 2.2k, rating: 18+/explicit

warning/tags: smut and fluff, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, munch!spencer reid, established relationship

a/n: hello! this is my first spencer/criminal minds fic and am new to posting fic to tumblr!! i wrote this in 2 hours in a frenzy lol. please let me know if u like this, enjoy!

You wake when the bedroom door creaks open. Spencer’s been meaning to get it fixed, but he’s been away so often recently.

A dark figure in the doorway startles you as you blink, your eyes adjusting to the darkness, and you reach for your phone as you sit up but a familiar voice soothes any of your anxieties.

“Hey,” Spencer says quietly. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“No, it’s okay,” you answer, even though Spencer coming in most definitely woke you up. “Hey. Welcome home.”

Spencer walks over to your side of the bed, turning the lamp on the bedside table on. The gentle, yellow glow fills the room. You see how sweetly Spencer is looking at you. You smile up at him, and Spencer leans in to kiss you. He tastes like coffee.

“Told you not to drink coffee so late,” you chastise playfully. “You always have trouble falling asleep when you do.”

“Emily made me a cup on our way back from New York, I couldn’t say no,” Spencer shrugs, smiling. 

You shake your head, pulling the knot of his tie loose. 

“Go take a shower before you come to bed, baby,” you say, patting his cheek. “I’ve been missing cuddling my boyfriend to sleep.”

“Don’t wait up. Get some more rest, Y/N,” Spencer hums, before he turns around and enters the bathroom. 

You can’t fall back asleep, not just yet. You decide to scroll mindlessly on your phone while the sound of the shower running provides some ambient noise. You hear Spencer’s not-so-in-tune humming over the water, and it makes you smile to yourself.

Spencer always scolds you for taking too long in the shower. Says it’s a waste of water. You often suggest you should shower together, leaving Spencer a bumbling, red-faced mess. It’s cute. 

It doesn’t take long for him to step out of the shower, towel-drying his hair. You turn to face him to make a cheeky comment, but all you see is a towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping down his torso, tanned skin still wet. Your lips parted still, you look up and meet his eyes. Spencer quirks an eyebrow, curious. 

You swallow, attempting to make a smooth comeback. “Couldn’t have towelled yourself off in there?”

Spencer chuckles, “Didn’t bring a change of clothes in. Thought I might as well change out here.”

You feel your cheeks heat, but you muster up some confidence to say, “Forget the clothes.”

“What?” Spencer asks. You can only focus on the veins in his forearms, the bob of his Adam’s apple. 

“I said forget the clothes. Come here,” you repeat, and Spencer’s eyes widen. He approaches you, almost nervous, as if you haven’t been dating for a year. Awkwardly, he stands by the bed, and you pull him down towards you with the towel he’s left slung around his shoulders. He catches himself, hands planted next to either side of your head. His hair, still damp, falls into his face. He looks so handsome like this. You lean up to kiss him.

Spencer makes a surprised little noise, before his hand moves to cup your face as he kisses you. He kneels on the mattress for support so his other hand can trace your body, feeling you up as you are with him, hands reaching for his biceps, his lithe body, his toned stomach. 

You feel breathless as you whisper, “I missed you, Spencer.”

“I missed you too,” Spencer exhales, eyes gentle and warm as he looks down at you. 

“Kiss me some more,” you coax. 

Spencer grins. “Gladly.”

Spencer kisses you, desperation in every move he makes. You run your hand through his hair. Messy as it air-dries, but that’s just another thing you like about him. You feel him slide his hand up your sleep shirt – well, it’s his shirt, but he no longer says anything about you stealing his clothes – and it sends a shudder down your spine. His hand is calloused, rough, but touches you with a sweet gentleness that makes you swoon. His hand reaches your breast, cups it, squeezes like he needs to get his fill. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, as you run your hand down his body, reaching where his towel is tucked in so that it stays up. Your hand nudges his hardening cock, and you smile. “Someone’s already hot and bothered, huh?”

Spencer shakes his head, chuckling. “As if you didn’t start this.”

“Oh, come on, baby,” you coo. “I think it’s cute. You want me so bad.”

“I do,” He answers rather earnestly. “I’ve been gone for the better part of this week. Of course I want you.”

“And I’ll give it to you,” you answer, undoing the towel and letting it fall around Spencer’s knees. Your hand wraps around Spencer, and he moans at the contact, at the pressure. 

“Shit,” Spencer groans, head falling forward as he loses himself in the pleasure of your hand. His brows are furrowed slightly but he’s leaking, and you just want him inside you already. You kiss his cheek, and he turns his head to meet your lips instead. His lips are soft, a little chapped, but Spencer’s never been diligent with the lip balm you gave him. You’ll kiss him regardless, chapped lips and all. 

“I want you, Spencer,” you sigh. “Please.”

“I know,” Spencer says, and he reaches for your lower half. “How- How did I not realise you weren’t wearing shorts?”

You smirk, only hiding your fluster when you take off your shirt and toss it onto the floor. “Oh, Mr. Respectful Boyfriend over here doesn’t realise his girlfriend is half-naked. Shocker.”

“Hey, I am respectful!” Spencer retaliates, while trying very hard not to ogle your tits, which you promptly counter by squeezing his cock. He squeaks. You laugh, as he apologises and moves to dip his thumbs in the waistband of your panties. He looks at you. 

“Take them off already, Spencer,” you say. He does, pulling your underwear off with a reverence he’s always given you when you’re in bed together. You lift your hips so he can slide them off. You expect Spencer to come back up, but he instead slides in between your spread legs. 

His hand is gentle on your thigh, and his thumb rubs at the crease between your thigh and your cunt. You feel his breath on you, his face lowering towards your heat but his eyes solely meeting yours. “Let me take care of you.”

“Yeah?” you say, feeling breathless already. “I thought- I thought I was supposed to make you feel good, since you missed me.”

“You do make me feel good. Even like this.” Spencer says, matter-of-factly. “Especially like this.”

“It’s hot that you like getting me off,” you say. You can’t help the smile that forms on your face, as Spencer buries his face between your legs. 

You feel the little bit of stubble on Spencer’s chin rubbing at your thighs, and his insistent tongue that slowly coaxes you open. It’s wet and slick and you feel so good, as his tongue circles your clit. The way he’s eating you out is like a man starved, as he holds your legs apart, drinking from you like he’s running out of water. The pleasure makes your head spin, makes your toes curl, as adrenaline drums in your veins and makes the tips of your fingers (that are buried in Spencer’s hair) tingle. You hold him down against you, as if you want him impossibly closer, as if the pleasure he’s giving you will increase tenfold if you do. You feel him moan against you, the vibrations only making you feel better. 

“Spencer,” you exhale shakily, “You need to fuck me, right now.”

He pulls away slightly, and you expect the loss of warmth all at once, but Spencer’s slipped the tips of two fingers into you, and he fills you up just like that alongside his tongue. He spreads them to scissor you open, tongue slid in between them perfectly. You cry out as he fucks you with his stupidly long fingers, feeling crazy good when he hits the spots deep inside you that you can only reach on a good day. 

You writhe on the bed, the bed you share, and Spencer finally comes up for air. “That’s totally what you meant, right?”

You glare at Spencer. “I’m going to kill you.”

“You won’t,” Spencer says with a smirk. He pulls his fingers out of you, sits back up so he’s kneeling between your legs. You watch Spencer wrap his fingers around himself, sticky with your slick, as he works himself up. Playfully, he mocks, “You want me so bad.”

You gasp as he presses the tip of his cock to your hole, wet and sticky and leaking from the number Spencer’s already done on you. He’s sweet as he presses inside, doesn’t tease but instead gives you exactly what you want.

Spencer feels like he was made for you, fitting inside you perfectly. You sigh as he presses into you, all the way to the hilt. When you look up at him, it’s like he can barely keep it together. His face is scrunched up and a little flushed, and you just want to kiss him. 

You reach up to pull him closer by the nape of his neck. He can clearly tell what you plan to do, so he says, “I taste like you.”

You smile up lazily at him. “I know. I think that’s really fucking hot.”

He leans in to kiss you, full of heat, but he’s still extremely sweet about it. His chin is sticky, but you couldn’t care less. He holds you so softly, but wherever his hands touch your skin – your stomach, your thighs, your face – it feels so hot, burning with his desire.

You clench around him on purpose when he breaks away from kissing you, and he curses under his breath. “Jesus Christ. The things you do to me.”

“Yeah?” You grin. “Show me.”

Spencer pulls out before rocking his hips, pushing himself into you, and you moan. His rhythm has gotten better since you and Spencer started sleeping together, better at keeping his pace even and steady to get you to your orgasm. He used to be a bumbling (but adorable) mess, close to virginal and would blow his load just after a few minutes. You like to think you helped him improve, but you definitely don’t want to see him use these skills with anyone else. 

He holds your leg up, allowing him to fuck you even deeper. You feel every inch of Spencer inside of you, as he slides in and out, repeat. He’s learned well, just how to fuck you. Being a genius definitely has its perks, with him learning so quickly, knowing exactly what makes you tick.

His other hand reaches down to toy with your clit, and you shudder. “Spencer… Feels so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” Spencer responds, sounding delighted to hear your glowing review. “Are you gonna…”

“I’m close,” you sigh. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

“Fuck,” Spencer curses, seemingly out of nowhere, but you know by now that it turns him on like crazy. His need for praise always had you curious, and using it in bed just makes you feel all the more powerful. He clears his throat, continuing, “You’re- So tight, so warm. You feel really good.”

Spencer’s been trying to… talk more, during sex, knowing how much you like it. He’s remembered the way you talk to him when you’re sleeping together, and he’s done well parroting it back to you. It’s hot, how eager he is to please. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby,” you say, breathless. “Make me cum, Spencer.”

He leans in to press his lips to yours again, driving his hips into you at a punishing pace, and you’re gushing as he flicks at your clit in all the right ways. You moan as your orgasm washes over you, electrifies you, till every bone in your body feels like jelly. He lets out a whimper as his hips stutter, emptying inside of you. His warmth floods into you, and you feel a strange sense of pride with it. 

“Ugh, you’re so hot,” you groan, while Spencer presses one last kiss to your cheek before he slumps down on top of you. “And heavy.”

“I love you,” Spencer says, awfully serious. “Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me, Spencer?” You chuckle. Spencer lifts his head to look at you. You stroke his cheek gently. 

“For letting me make you feel good, I suppose,” Spencer says. “Orgasms are often good for stress relief.”

“For me or for you?” You grin. 

“Both of us?” Spencer suggests. You nod in agreement. 

You sit in the comfortable silence between you and Spencer as you cuddle with him on top of you, only feeling sticky once the post-orgasm high has worn off. “So, wanna shower together?”

“Oh my God,” Spencer squeaks, sounding positively scandalised.

You laugh. “Oh, please. As if you didn’t cum inside of me just minutes ago.”

Spencer makes a comically distressed noise. “Well, when you put it like that!”

He gets up off of you, like he’s afraid of offending you, but you just take his hand as you stand up. You see the way his eyes rake over your naked body. It feels good. You kiss the top of his hand and smile at him. “Nothing to be scared of, Spencer. Come on.”

[lingeriae]

PUSSY TALK! FT AOT MEN

STARRING - CONNIE, ONY, ARMIN, EREN

SYNOPSIS - just aot men, and times they wanna eat you

WARNINGS - very suggestive (duh), boys being downbad, cursing, gramar errors, reader is black and female.

CONNIE

peering over the edge of your phone screen to see a very tired looking connie, his shoulder sagging as he makes his way towards you slowly. you allow him to push your legs apart and slot himself between them, landing on your tummy and rubbing his face agains the material of your (his) shirt. naturally your hands come to scratch his head, which is freed from his usual beanie, smiling at the soft hum he lets out because of the action.

"hi papa." you say with a soft voice, continuing to scratch his head while you scroll through your tumblr feed. he shifts momentarily the pressure on your stomach gone as he gets up but before you can question him you stiffen, the feeling of lips pressed against your cunt has your phone almost landing in your face as you sit up on your elbow to look down at connie. He presses his lips against it once more before pulling away with an exagerated 'mwah' which has your body heating up, and your thighs closing as you look at him with wide eyes.

connie licks his lips, leaning towards you and caging you into his forearms, his nose brushes against yours as he leans in to peck your lips. "you so nasty." you whisper, scrunching up your nose at him playfully.

he gives you a panty-dropping smile, dimples showing and all. "she looked like she wanted a kiss though." rolling your eyes, your arms move to wrap around his neck pulling him towards you so that you can kiss him. moaning into the kiss connie leans back, lifting up your legs which makes you fall back with a squeak, he licks his lips again when his honey coloured eyes drifts down to your pussy and back to your eyes.

"m' so hungry, mama. lemme eat your pussy, please?"

ONY

you can feel his eyes on you as you talk to your homegirls, drilling into the side of your head and making you feel warm all over. yall only fucked once, and it's like this undeniable tension between the both you since then. shifting on your feet you turn your head to look at him, rubbing your glossed lips together because of how good he looked.

white dress shirt tucked into his slacks with a few of the top bottons opened, his gold chain flashing brightly and matching the grills on the bottom row of his teeth that looked so good with his jaw-dropping smile. he was so shameless, not even attempting to hide the fact that he was staring at you, not giving the person infront of him a glance as he talked to them, no, he would rather have his eyes on stuck on you.

clearing your throat you turned back towards your friends who all had raised eye-brows and a amused look on their face. "girl please do not tell me yall about to fuck at this wedding." one of them said, laughing loudly as you bit your lips with a smile and played with the wine glass in your hand. you shook your head as you brought the glass to your lips, "bye, it's not even like that."

the table suddenly went quiet, and everyone looked over your shoulder with shocked looks on their face they started giggling which caused your face to scrunch up in confusion. "what's funny?"

they shook their heads looking at each other as they sipped on their wine, one of them waving behind you with a smirk. "hey ony." your back straightened as you felt his warmth surround you his chest pressed against your back causing your homegirls to look at you with wide eyes and smiles, you tried to feign ignorance continuing to drink your wine with a blank face.

"hey, girls."you could hear the smile in his voice, and by the way your friends were reacting you knew he was. he leaned down so that his mouth was beside your ear his chain brushing against your bare back causing a shiver to run down your spine. his next words not helping your case either.

"tell your lil friends buh-bye so I can eat your pussy, and stop playing with me."

ARMIN

armin was fidgety. spacing out way too oftenwhen eren or anyone else was asking him questions. everyone was over your house for some party, and you decided to dress to impress. weain a cute little dress that fitted your figure perfectly, not to mention the colour compliemented your sun-kissed skin very well.

his eyes were constantly scanning over the room, looking for you watching the way your glossed plump lips widened as you laughed at something sasha said. feelings eyes on your, you looked over at your boyfriend smile widening when you see his gaze already on you.

you excuse yourself and walk over to him, sitting on his lap a warmth fluttering through you when you feeling his hands immediately find their way to your waist. a strand of blonde hair is twirled around your finger repeatedly as you look down at him, cheeks flushed with a pretty blush and ocean blue eyes glossed over, his pretty pink lips pushed out almost in a pout-like manner. "hi blonde."

he kisses his teeth at your nickname, squeezing your waist as he leans up to kiss your lips only for you to press a finger to his lips. shaking your head with a smug look on your face, armin's eyebrow raising as he looked at you. "nope. spent way too long putting this make-up on, your not about to ruin it."

it's cute, the way you think he needs permission to kiss you. the way you think he ould actually care to listen to your words.

armin leans back, pushing up his hips to the 'fix them' which pulls a gasp from your lips. his lips curl up, head tilting as he looks you up and down with a glint in his eyes. "so I can't eat your pussy?"

your eyes widen at his words, slapping his chest which causes him to snort, looking at you through his lashes with amusement. "why are you so vulgar?" you hiss out moving to get up off his lap only for him to hold you down, you rub your lips together staring at him, feeling your pussy pulse at the way he looks at you.

"m not being vulgar. one way or another im gonna eat that pretty pussy, even if it 'ruins' your make-up."

your make-up was ruined btw!

EREN

coming up behind you eren delivers a slap to yout ass, squeezing the flesh and snickering at the way you cuss him out under your breath. it becomes silent as he takes in your attire, your bottom attire to be specific, his hand linger on your ass while the other comes up to rub your waist.

"this new?" he pinches the material of your tights between his finger, eyes glued to your ass and how nice it looked in the material. you hum, not paying him much attention as you wash the plates.

"yeah, you like it? got it offa temu for - eren!" the water splashes as you jump, erens hand cupping your pussy pressing as his face holds a smug look.

"yeah, makes your pussy look fat. your ass too." his voice is raspy, he applies pressure unto your cunt with one of his finger, smirking at the moan you let out. a mouth is on your neck and you unintentionally lean back as eren fingers you through the material of your new tights, you'd be sure to cuss him out later for ruin it but for now you feel too good to say anything.

his chest vibrate as he hums, burrying his head in your shoulder. "you smell good." whimpering at his words, the pace of his finger sped up and your back arched into him pawing at his wrist as you felt yourself getting close.

eren suddenly removed his finger, spinning you around, teal eyes almost seeming dark as he looked down at you, his fingers squeeze at your waist as he swallows.

"lemme eat you out, pretty please?"

[baelabong]

ᴄʟᴜᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ

ʀɪᴄʜɢɪʀʟ! ʏ/ɴ x ᴏʟᴅᴇʀꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀꜱʙꜱꜰʀ!ᴋᴀʀɪɴᴀ

Plot: Y/N lives a life of luxury, lounging by the pool in her mansion, completely at ease. But when her sister’s best friend, Karina, shows up, everything changes. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act like the perfect spoiled princess, she finds herself struggling with feelings she doesn’t want to admit.

Warnings: no, fluff, lowkey angst, y/ns a bitch lowkey

wc/rq: 7.5 k words/no, i was just watching clueless again Notes: guys pls teach me ho tochange the colour of the text in tumblr also this took me FIVE DAYS OMG

it’s another perfect day as you lounge around your mansion, well…. your dads but whatever, and you’re in your element. lounging by the pool is practically a full-time job for you, and honestly? no one does it better. your designer sunglasses sit perched on your nose, your iced drink sits on the little table next to you, condensation sliding down the glass, while your phone is buzzing nonstop with notifications. friends asking about plans, people wanting your attention—it’s exhausting, really. but you couldn’t care less at the moment. the world is yours, and you’re revelling in it.

you stretch out on your lounger, flipping through your phone without much interest, skimming texts, and rolling your eyes at half of them. you don’t feel like replying. it’s one of those lazy afternoons where you can just exist in your little bubble, and everything is going your way.

until you hear her voice.

karina.

the sound of her laughing from inside the house catches you completely off guard, and suddenly your perfect little world feels a bit too small. her voice cuts through the air, light and casual, like she owns the place—and you already know she’s probably leaning against the kitchen counter, looking effortlessly cool, as she does. 

god, she’s so irritating.

you sit up a bit, tugging your sunglasses down your nose, the slightest frown creasing your brow. you try to ignore the flutter in your chest, that annoying little skip your heart does whenever you know she’s nearby. it’s stupid, really. she’s your sister’s best friend. she’s here for her, not for you. but for some reason, your body never seems to get that memo. 

you roll your eyes at yourself, huffing as you grab your phone again, pretending to be engrossed in something important. but it’s useless. you scroll without really looking, your mind racing ahead of itself. the thought of karina, her presence this close, makes your skin tingle in the most frustrating way. it’s like she invades your space, even when she’s not physically next to you.

snap out of it, y/n, you think, shaking your head. but the moment’s already ruined, and lounging by the pool doesn’t feel as serene as it did five minutes ago. 

you sigh dramatically, slipping your sunglasses back up and fixing your hair, running your fingers through it like you’re preparing for battle. because, honestly, that’s what it feels like whenever karina’s around—a constant need to look your best, act your best, even though she’s never actually paying attention to you. at least, not in the way you wish she would.

so you push yourself up, deciding it’s better to face whatever weird feelings are bubbling up rather than sitting here, stewing in your own frustration. you stand and slip on your sandals, adjusting your swimsuit just so—because even if you’re annoyed, you’re still going to look flawless. that’s just who you are.

as you stroll into the house, your head held high, your heart’s racing, but you force yourself to look as unbothered as possible. you walk with purpose, sunglasses still on, acting like nothing could possibly faze you.

and then you see her.

karina’s leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, her black cropped top showing just enough of her toned waist to make your throat go dry. her jeans hug her in all the right places, and her dark hair falls effortlessly over her shoulders, making her look like she just stepped out of a photoshoot without even trying. of course she looks that good. she always does.

and what’s worse? she’s laughing at something your sister just said, completely relaxed, as if the world hasn’t just tilted on its axis now that you’ve entered the room. ugh.

you can feel your stomach flip, but you swallow it down, refusing to let it show. you are y/n, after all. you’re always in control.

"y/n, finally. we’re going shopping," your sister, ningning announces, not even bothering to look up from her phone. she says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world, as if she hasn’t dragged you along on three separate shopping trips already this week.

you roll your eyes dramatically, making sure everyone in the room feels it. shopping? again? it’s like your sister has no sense of boundaries, always assuming you’ll drop everything to go out with her. you love her, obviously, but sometimes she just doesn’t get it. 

"ugh, shopping? again?" you groan, exaggerating every syllable. you throw yourself into your usual bratty mode because it’s easy, it’s safe. and more than that—it’s your way of keeping karina at arm’s length. you know if you act like a spoiled little princess, you can keep the attention off how much she messes with your head.

karina glances at you, and you can feel her eyes on you before you even meet them. when you finally do, she’s got that smile on her lips—that tiny, knowing smile that drives you insane. like she can see right through you. like she knows exactly why you’re acting this way. 

god, she’s so frustrating.

"you’re coming whether you like it or not," your sister chirps, still absorbed in whatever text she’s typing, oblivious to the tension bubbling under the surface.

you huff, flipping your hair over your shoulder with a sharp toss. "fine. but we better not spend all day in some tacky boutique."

you strut past karina, making sure to give her the cold shoulder as you do, acting like her presence doesn’t bother you in the slightest. like the fact that you’ll be stuck with her for the next few hours isn’t making your brain short-circuit. you feel her eyes linger on you as you walk away, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to turn around and meet them again. 

you know what she’s thinking—that you’re being a brat, like usual. that you’re throwing a tantrum because things aren’t going your way. and maybe she’s right.

the drive to the shops feels like it drags on forever, but you manage to keep your cool. you’re in the backseat, legs crossed, uour white crop top hugs you perfectly, and your leather skirt shows just enough skin to catch attention without begging for it. it's the kind of look that makes you feel in control, like the world bends to you.

your phone buzzes again, and you glance at it with a small smile. some boy you barely care about has been texting you for days, throwing compliments like they’re going out of style. he’s sweet, but he’s not who’s really on your mind. you’re only half paying attention to the conversation, lazily scrolling through his messages, while your eyes flick towards the front of the car.

karina’s sitting there, chatting with your sister, her voice low and calm, like she has all the time in the world. she laughs at something your sister says, and it’s the kind of laugh that makes your heart skip for a moment—annoyingly effortless, just like the rest of her. her dark hair is pulled back, showing off that ridiculously sharp jawline, and she’s dressed in this casual, almost too-perfect outfit that only adds to her coolness. you hate how much it affects you, but you’d never show it.

instead, you lean back, subtly watching her from behind your sunglasses, acting like you’re completely disinterested. every now and then, you catch her looking at you through the rear-view mirror, her gaze flickering over you just long enough for you to notice. she’s not obvious about it, but you know. she’s watching you, and it sends a little thrill through your veins, though you’d never admit that either.

as the car slows to a stop at the shopping centre, you apply a quick swipe of lip gloss, making sure your lips are shiny and perfect. you don’t even look at karina when you do it, but you know she’s paying attention. her gaze lingers again, longer this time, before she quickly looks away, focusing back on whatever your sister is babbling about.

you step out of the car with a smooth, practised ease, swinging your small designer bag over your shoulder as your sister immediately grabs your arm and pulls you into the first boutique she sees. you roll your eyes, but follow her, because it’s easier than making a fuss.

inside the shop, your sister flits around like a kid in a candy store, grabbing clothes left and right, already talking a mile a minute about some guy she’s obsessed with. you’re only half listening, the same way you do with the boy who’s been texting you. instead, your attention keeps drifting back to karina, who’s moving between racks with her usual calm and collected grace.

you can’t help but watch her, even when you pretend you’re not. everything about her is so annoyingly perfect. you find yourself bristling at it, at how unbothered she looks, while you’re stuck in your head, trying not to let her get to you.

as if on autopilot, you grab a bright pink dress from a nearby rack and hold it up, not even thinking about it. it’s not your style at all—too loud, too flashy, too... obvious. but you’re not really shopping for yourself at this moment. you’re trying to pull karina’s focus, to force her to engage with you, to get her to stop being so damn aloof.

"what do you think of this?" you ask, holding the dress up in front of her, your tone casual, like you couldn’t care less what she says. but your heart is already beating a little faster, and you hate that she has this effect on you. 

karina looks up, her eyes flicking to the dress, then to you. she takes a moment, her lips curling into a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk. "it’s cute," she says with that maddening calmness. "but... i think you’d look better in something less... obvious."

you blink, momentarily thrown off. "less obvious?" you scoff, tossing the dress back on the rack with a little more force than necessary. "i think i know what works for me."

"i’m sure you do," karina replies, moving to the next rack like your little outburst didn’t even faze her. she’s so damn unbothered, and it’s infuriating. 

you huff, crossing your arms, watching as she walks ahead. she’s already browsing something else, her attention completely shifted away from you, leaving you stewing in your own frustration. who does she think she is, telling you what looks good on you? it’s not like she’s some kind of fashion expert. she’s just... karina. your sister’s best friend. and yet, here you are, letting her opinion mess with your head. 

deep down, you know you’re overreacting. it’s not really about the dress. it’s about how karina makes you feel, like she’s always two steps ahead, always so calm and cool, while you’re over here, constantly putting on a show. and the worst part? you care what she thinks. way too much. 

you glance at her again, catching the way she moves, so confident, so sure of herself. and for just a moment, you wish you could be that unbothered. but then, you shake the thought away, smoothing down your outfit as if it’ll somehow fix the mess in your head.

"ugh, whatever," you mutter under your breath, striding past her like you’re completely over it. but even as you move to the next rack, you can feel her eyes on you, and it makes your heart race all over again.

you move to the next rack, pretending to focus on a row of dresses that all blur together in your head. your sister is off somewhere, chattering away to some salesgirl, and you’re left alone in this silent tension with karina. you know she’s watching you, even if she’s not making it obvious. but you refuse to give her the satisfaction of looking back. not yet.

after a few more minutes of awkward browsing, your sister finally appears, holding up two completely over-the-top outfits. “which one do you think i should get? i have a party this weekend, and i need to look amazing,” she says, thrusting the clothes at you and karina for judgement.

you raise an eyebrow, barely glancing at the dresses. “does it really matter? you’ll look fine in anything,” you say, a little dismissively, still annoyed at the whole situation. 

karina, on the other hand, takes the time to actually consider the options, glancing from one dress to the other with her signature calm. “i like the red one. it’s bold,” she says, giving your sister a genuine smile.

and just like that, your sister beams at karina, completely smitten with her opinion. “ugh, i knew you’d get it!” she squeals, already grabbing the red dress and skipping off to try it on, leaving the two of you alone again.

you roll your eyes at the whole interaction, crossing your arms as you turn back to the rack. “she acts like she’s going to prom or something. it’s just a party,” you mutter, but there’s no real bite in your voice. you’re more distracted by how casual karina is, how her attention shifts so easily from one thing to the next, while you’re stuck here, hyper aware of every little thing she does.

and then, out of nowhere, she’s beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of her presence. “you didn’t answer me earlier,” she says softly, her voice low enough that it makes your skin tingle. 

you glance up at her, confused. “about what?”

“about why you’re really upset. it’s not the shopping, is it?” she asks, tilting her head slightly, studying your face with those dark eyes that seem to see through you.

your stomach flips, and for a second, you can’t think of anything to say. because she’s right. it’s not the shopping. it’s not even the dress. it’s... her. the way she gets under your skin, the way she knows how to push your buttons without even trying.

you bristle, putting up your usual front. “i’m not upset,” you say, but your voice wavers slightly. “and i’m definitely not interested in whatever psychoanalysis you’re trying to pull.”

karina’s lips curl into that infuriating smirk again, like she knows you better than you know yourself. “sure, y/n. whatever you say.”

and with that, she steps away, her attention shifting back to the clothes, leaving you standing there, heart racing, your mind spinning. you hate how easily she can mess with you. how, with just a few words, she can throw your whole mood off balance.

you let out a frustrated sigh, grabbing a random dress from the rack and heading toward the fitting rooms. you need a minute to collect yourself, to get away from karina’s stupidly perfect calmness, and figure out why she’s making you feel so rattled.

but as you walk away, you can feel her eyes on you again. watching, waiting. and it only makes your pulse quicken even more.

as you step out of the fitting room, tugging at the hem of the shirt you just tried on, your sister's voice cuts through the air. “you should just tell her how you feel, y/n!”

your eyes widen, and you freeze on the spot, glaring at your sister as if that would make her shut up. she says it so casually, like it’s no big deal, but your heart is practically pounding out of your chest. what the hell is she thinking, dropping that in front of karina?

you sneak a glance at karina, who’s standing a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest. she’s leaning against the wall, her black leather jacket making her look effortlessly cool as usual. her expression doesn’t give much away, but there’s a small quirk of her eyebrow that tells you she’s definitely heard what your sister just said.

“what the hell are you talking about?” you snap, rolling your eyes and giving your sister a hard shove. “you sound ridiculous.”

your sister just shrugs, clearly not picking up on the tension between you and karina. “i’m just saying! it’s obvious.”

you scoff, crossing your arms and glancing at karina again, trying to read her. her jaw is clenched, and she’s staring right at you, not saying a word, but that stupid smirk she always has is creeping up.

“let’s just go. i’m hungry,” you mutter, eager to change the subject. you brush past your sister and head toward the exit, not even waiting for karina to follow. but of course, she does, her boots thudding against the floor behind you.

outside the store, you try to ignore how close she’s walking next to you, her presence making you feel both irritated and flustered at the same time. why does she have to be so... calm? like she knows something you don’t.

“you’re acting real bratty today,” karina finally says, her deep voice low, like she’s amused by your attitude.

you stop in your tracks and glare at her. “i’m not acting bratty. i’m just not in the mood for this,” you snap back, refusing to let her get under your skin any more than she already has.

karina’s smirk grows wider, and she steps closer, towering over you just enough to make your breath catch. she reaches out and flicks your forehead lightly, like she’s teasing you. “sure, whatever you say, princess.”

your cheeks flush with both embarrassment and frustration. “don’t call me that,” you mutter, though your voice lacks the bite you want it to have.

karina just chuckles, sliding her hands into her jacket pockets as she keeps walking, clearly unfazed by your attitude. you bite your lip, feeling even more annoyed that she’s so good at getting a reaction out of you.

by the time you all pile into the car to head home, the tension between you and karina is palpable. you slide into the backseat, crossing your arms and staring out the window, pretending like you’re not bothered by her.

but every now and then, you catch her eyes flicking to you through the rearview mirror. she doesn’t say anything, but you can feel her watching you, and it drives you insane.

later that day, while you're lounging on your bed, phone in hand, you scroll through your social media feed without much thought, until a particular post makes you stop. it's from the new girl at school—a blonde who's been turning heads since she arrived. what catches your eye, though, is the company she’s keeping. in a series of photos, she’s with karina. they're both laughing, standing way too close, and sharing what looks like an inside joke. karina’s usual cool demeanour is softened, and it rubs you the wrong way. 

your stomach churns as you swipe through more pictures. the blonde has tagged karina in a couple of them. in one, their shoulders are pressed together, and in another, karina’s hand is casually resting on the back of her chair, almost possessively. the knot in your chest tightens, and you toss your phone aside, sitting up as if that will shake the irritation building inside you.

why does she look so comfortable around her? you wonder, pacing your room as your thoughts spiral. you try to brush it off—karina’s popular, after all, people gravitate towards her. but this feels different. the thought of this girl spending more time with her than you makes your chest ache in a way that catches you off guard. you hate that it's bothering you this much. i don’t even care that much... right? but deep down, you know that’s a lie.

the next day at school, the nagging jealousy follows you around like a shadow. during lunch, you find yourself sitting across from karina, your eyes scanning her face as she casually eats, scrolling through her phone like nothing's on her mind. but it’s all you can think about.

you take a deep breath, trying to sound casual as you speak up. “so… who’s that new girl? the blonde.” you fiddle with the fork in your hand, poking at your food without really eating.

karina glances up from her phone, raising an eyebrow. “new girl?” she echoes, almost like she’s oblivious. she’s toying with you. you know she remembers.

you clear your throat, trying to sound nonchalant as you add, “you two seemed pretty chummy on her post.”

karina’s lips curl into a small, amused smirk. “oh, her? she’s in my biology class. we worked on a project together. no big deal.”

“no big deal?” you echo, feigning indifference, but you can’t stop the edge from creeping into your voice. “she seems pretty into you.”

karina’s smirk only grows. “what? are you jealous?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest. “me? jealous? please. i just thought it was interesting, that’s all.”

karina sets her phone down and leans in closer, resting her elbows on the table, her gaze never leaving yours. “you’re cute when you’re jealous, y/n.”

your cheeks flush instantly at her words, but you refuse to let her see how much she’s getting to you. “i’m not jealous,” you grumble, though even you can tell it sounds unconvincing. “i just don’t like the idea of you being so... friendly with random girls.”

karina tilts her head, her gaze softening slightly. “random girls? she’s just a friend, y/n. we worked on a project together, nothing more.” she sounds sincere, but her playful smirk never fully disappears. it’s like she’s reveling in how worked up you’re getting.

“yeah, well,” you mutter, playing with the edge of your sleeve, “she looked pretty cozy for ‘just a friend.’”

karina leans even closer, her voice dropping to a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine. “you know,” she says, eyes flicking down to your lips before meeting your gaze again, “if you want my attention, all you have to do is ask.”

your breath catches in your throat. you’re not used to karina being this direct. she’s always been confident, sure, but this—this teasing, almost predatory energy—is making your heart race in a way you weren’t prepared for.

“who said i wanted your attention?” you try to snap back, but your voice is quieter, weaker, and you can tell karina’s picking up on it.

karina leans back, her smirk widening as if she’s won some silent battle. “oh, trust me, y/n. i can tell.”

you huff, crossing your arms tighter over your chest, but you don’t argue further. the truth is, you *do* want her attention—have wanted it for a while now. but admitting that feels too much like giving her the upper hand, and you’re not about to hand that over so easily.

karina watches you for a moment, her eyes twinkling with amusement. she knows exactly how to push your buttons, and she’s enjoying every second of it. “don’t worry,” she says, voice softer but still teasing. “you don’t have to be jealous of anyone else. i’m not going anywhere.”

you bite your lip, trying to keep the blush from creeping up your neck. “i’m not jealous,” you insist, but even you can hear how weak it sounds now.

karina just chuckles, shaking her head as she goes back to her phone, but not before giving you a knowing look that makes your heart skip a beat. 

“sure, y/n,” she murmurs. “sure.”

the sound of the door dings again, the cheery chime contrasting sharply with the heavy sigh you can’t help but let escape your lips as you settle back into your chair, stirring your iced latte without any real interest. the hum of the coffee shop, alive with the chatter of customers and the clinking of dishes, fades into a dull background noise as your attention drifts elsewhere. your sister, ningning, somehow managed to drag you into this little outing with her friends—definitely not the most thrilling way to spend your weekend. sure, the place is cute enough, but after an hour of listening to them ramble on about the latest trends and drama, you feel like you might just slip into a coma.

“thanks again for dragging me here, ning,” you mutter under your breath, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “really doing wonders for my social calendar.”

ningning, ever the optimist, just rolls her eyes playfully, busy laughing with her friends as they chat animatedly about something you couldn’t care less about. you zone out, drumming your fingers against the table as the door dings again, signalling yet another group of people entering. 

your gaze drifts lazily across the table to where karina is sitting, completely engrossed in conversation with the new girl—some blonde transfer student who’s been soaking up attention like it’s her job since she showed up. karina, for her part, seems to be enjoying it far too much. she leans in a little closer, her expression relaxed, laughing at something the blonde said. 

you can’t stop the eye roll that follows. typical. 

karina’s never like this around you, but here she is, laughing like she’s never had more fun in her life. you shift in your seat, your annoyance simmering as you watch the two of them. they’re sitting just a little too close, and karina’s smile is just a little too bright. you tap your fingers impatiently on the table, waiting for the conversation to shift back to something even remotely interesting, but no one else seems to notice the elephant in the room—you.

with every joke exchanged between them, your patience wears thinner, until you just can’t hold back anymore. the sarcasm slips out before you can stop yourself. 

“wow, karina,” you say, your voice dripping with faux enthusiasm. “you and your new bestie seem to be having such a great time. should we give you two some space? maybe you’d prefer to continue this riveting conversation alone?”

the table falls silent instantly. ningning’s eyes widen, and the other girls glance at each other awkwardly, unsure of how to react. karina, though, barely blinks. she turns her head toward you, raising an eyebrow, and the corner of her lips twitch as if she’s more amused than annoyed.

“what’s your deal?” she asks, her tone as casual as ever, like your little outburst barely registered. she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as if to match your stance.

“my deal?” you echo, letting out a scoff as you lean forward, resting your chin in your hand. “oh, nothing. just admiring how fast you make friends. must be nice, really.”

karina’s eyes flicker with amusement as she glances between you and the blonde, who’s now awkwardly fiddling with her coffee cup. “oh, come on, y/n,” she says, her voice smooth, almost teasing. “are you really that bothered?”

you tilt your head, giving her a saccharine smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “bothered? no, not at all. just enjoying the show.” you gesture loosely to the two of them, adding, “it’s like a cute little rom-com, right in front of me. really, I’m thrilled for you.”

karina narrows her eyes, a hint of a smirk playing at her lips. “you’re jealous,” she states plainly, not a question—more like she’s calling you out, the way she always does. and it infuriates you.

you scoff again, louder this time, and toss your hair over your shoulder with dramatic flair. “me? jealous? of that?” you glance at the blonde, who’s now clearly uncomfortable but doing her best to pretend she’s not. “please. I just think it’s cute, that’s all. watching you two pretend you’re starring in some hallmark movie.”

karina just chuckles, leaning forward, resting her elbows on the table as she fixes you with an infuriatingly calm stare. “yeah? well, from where I’m sitting, it sounds like you’re the one starring in a soap opera. all that drama for nothing, y/n.”

you roll your eyes, pushing your chair back slightly, but you can’t help the way your heart races as karina’s gaze stays locked on yours. she’s always been able to get under your skin, and you hate it. hate how she can stay so calm and collected while you’re practically fuming.

“right. because you know me so well,” you fire back, crossing your arms again, this time more defensively.

karina shrugs, that lazy smirk still on her lips. “i do know you,” she says, her tone annoyingly confident. “better than you think.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to snap again. you don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s right. the truth is, you are jealous. but admitting that would feel like handing her a win, and you’re not about to do that.

before you can come up with a witty retort, karina glances over at the blonde, who’s now pretending to check her phone. “look, y/n, we’re just talking. it’s really not that deep.”

“right,” you say, drawing out the word. “just talking. and all that laughing and flirting? just casual, right?”

karina chuckles, shaking her head slightly. “flirting? really, y/n?” she leans forward a little more, her voice dropping, making your pulse quicken. “if i wanted to flirt, you’d know it.”

you freeze, your breath catching in your throat as her words hang in the air between you. she’s toying with you, and you hate how easily she can make your heart skip a beat. 

“oh, please,” you finally manage, but your voice is a little quieter now, a little less confident. “you’re full of it.”

karina’s smirk only widens. “maybe,” she admits, leaning back in her chair, looking way too pleased with herself. “but it’s fun watching you get all worked up.”

you open your mouth to fire back, but nothing comes out. you’re too caught off guard by how effortlessly she’s turned the tables on you.

arriving back at the estate, you rush off the jeep, leaving ningning in the driver’s seat, and stomp towards your room, heart thudding in your chest. your heels click angrily against the marble floor, and the second you reach your bedroom, you throw yourself onto the bed, burying your face in the plush pillows. a muffled scream escapes your lips as you let out all the pent-up frustration.

how dare she? how could karina just... dismiss your feelings like that, in front of everyone, no less? it’s not like you even wanted her attention in the first place—at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself all this time. but seeing her with the blonde girl, laughing and leaning in like that, had struck a nerve you didn’t know was so raw.

you flip over onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as you replay the entire café scene over in your head. "if i wanted to flirt, you’d know it." you mocked the girl in a baby voice

god, why did she have to say that? why did she have to be so smug about it? it’s infuriating how easily she gets under your skin, how she knows exactly which buttons to press.

staring at the ceiling, replaying the day in your head like a bad movie. karina had been laughing, smiling, totally caught up in her conversation with the blonde—leaning in, listening like whatever that girl had to say was the most interesting thing in the world. it was infuriating. 

she never paid attention to you like that. at least, not lately.

you grab a pillow and smother your face with it, trying to block out the feelings that have been gnawing at you ever since you stormed off and practically slammed your bedroom door behind you. karina had a way of getting under your skin, but today? today, it had hit differently. you weren’t just annoyed—you were jealous. though admitting that, even to yourself, felt like swallowing glass.

your phone buzzes on your nightstand, and for a moment, you think about ignoring it. probably just ningning wondering where you went off to, or one of her friends in the group chat. but something nags at you, and before you can stop yourself, you reach for it.

karina’s name lights up your screen.

karina: open the door. i’m outside.

your heart skips a beat. you scramble out of bed, peeking through the curtains, and there she is. leaning against her car, hands shoved in her pockets, looking like she just stepped out of some cheesy rom-com.

you hesitate for a second, debating whether to leave her out there or actually let her in. your stubborn side screams to make her wait, but you know you can’t. not when she’s standing there like that, looking all casual and unbothered, the way she always does. 

with a huff, you stomp downstairs and swing open the door, crossing your arms defensively. “what are you doing here?”

karina glances up, her cool gaze locking onto yours as she pushes off the car and steps closer, hands still buried in her jacket pockets. “we need to talk.”

“talk about what? you had plenty to say earlier with your new bestie,” you snap, immediately feeling childish, but unable to stop yourself.

karina doesn’t flinch. instead, she steps up onto the porch, her tall frame making her presence even more commanding. “y/n, cut the crap. you’ve been acting weird all day. i’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

“nothing’s going on,” you lie, turning your back to her, but you don’t close the door. “i just don’t want to deal with it.”

“deal with what?” she presses, her voice dropping lower, firmer, in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “you were practically fuming back there. don’t act like everything’s fine.”

you bite your lip, annoyed that she can see through you so easily. “i said it’s nothing, karina. you’re making it a bigger deal than it is.”

“y/n, stop,” she says, her tone now leaving no room for argument. she steps inside, her boots making soft thuds on the hardwood as she closes the door behind her. “tell me what’s really going on.”

you glare at her, your defences still up, but you can’t help feeling cornered. her calm, unwavering stare makes your heart race, and you hate how easily she can unsettle you. 

“fine,” you snap, folding your arms tighter across your chest. “you wanna know? you ignored me all day for that blonde, and it pissed me off. happy now?”

karina raises an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly as she steps even closer. “that’s what this is about? you’re jealous?”

you scoff, turning away from her. “no, i’m not jealous,” you mutter, but even you don’t believe your own words. “i just... i don’t get why you were all over her. it was annoying.”

“i wasn’t all over her,” she says, her voice calm but firm as she steps around to face you again. “we were just talking.”

“right,” you mumble, still refusing to meet her eyes. “just talking. whatever.”

karina sighs, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “y/n, why won’t you just admit it? you’re upset because you like me.”

your breath catches in your throat, and you freeze. her words hang in the air between you, and for a second, you wonder if you heard her wrong.

“what?” you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

karina steps closer, her hand lifting to gently tilt your chin up so you’re forced to look at her. her dark eyes are intense, and for once, there’s no teasing smirk on her lips. she looks serious—dead serious. “you heard me.”

your heart pounds in your chest as her fingers brush against your jaw, sending a wave of heat rushing through you. this is not how you expected the conversation to go. you try to come up with a retort, something sarcastic to throw back at her, but your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting.

“karina, i...” you start, but the words die on your lips.

she’s so close now, her presence almost overwhelming as she looks down at you, waiting for your response. you swallow hard, feeling the weight of her gaze pressing down on you.

“you don’t have to say anything,” karina says softly, her hand sliding down from your chin to rest on your shoulder, grounding you. “but you need to stop pretending. i know how you feel. i’ve known for a while.”

you blink up at her, stunned. “what?”

karina smiles, just a little, but it’s softer than her usual smirk. “i’m not blind, y/n. and i’m not stupid. you’ve been acting like this for months.”

“acting like what?” you ask, your voice sounding small even to yourself.

“like you’re trying to push me away,” she says, her hand gently squeezing your shoulder. “but i’m not going anywhere.”

you bite your lip, feeling tears of frustration welling up in your eyes. “i’m not trying to push you away,” you mumble. “i just... i don’t know how to deal with this.”

karina sighs softly, stepping even closer so there’s barely any space between the two of you. “then let me help you deal with it,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “you don’t have to do everything on your own.”

“i don’t want to seem needy,” you mutter, still refusing to look her in the eye.

karina lets out a soft laugh, her thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “you’re not needy. you’re just... you. and that’s enough.”

you blink up at her, feeling your walls crumble bit by bit. her touch is so gentle, so warm, and it makes your heart ache in a way that scares you. “yeah, well... maybe i didn’t want to be needy.”

karina’s lips curve into a smirk, but it’s full of affection rather than amusement. “you’re not needy. but even if you were, i wouldn’t care.”

you scoff lightly, but the sound comes out weaker than you intend. “you say that now...”

“i mean it,” she says, her voice low as she leans in slightly. “y/n, i like you. i’ve liked you for a long time.”

your breath catches again, and this time, you can’t hide the way your pulse quickens. “what?”

karina chuckles softly, shaking her head. “god, you’re so dense sometimes,” she teases, though her tone is filled with fondness. “i’m saying i like you. more than just friends. more than anything else.”

you stare at her, your mind racing to catch up with what she’s just said. “you... like me?”

karina nods, her expression softening as she leans in closer, her forehead resting gently against yours. “yeah, y/n. i like you. so stop pushing me away, okay?”

you blink rapidly, trying to process everything. your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest, and for a moment, you feel like you’re going to pass out. “but... what about that blonde?”

karina pulls back slightly, looking at you with an amused smile. “the blonde? you seriously think i’d be interested in her?”

“i don’t know!” you blurt out, feeling flustered. “you seemed pretty into her.”

karina laughs, shaking her head. “god, y/n, you’re something else.” she cups your face in her hands again, her thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks. “i was just being polite. i didn’t even remember her name half the time.”

you feel your face heat up, embarrassed by your own jealousy. “oh.”

karina chuckles softly, her gaze softening as she leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “you don’t have to worry about anyone else,” she murmurs against your skin. “you’re the one i want. always have been.”

you bite your lip, feeling a mixture of relief and nervousness flood through you. “you mean that?”

you blink up at her, feeling your walls crumble just a little more. without thinking, you lean in, pressing your forehead against her chest and letting out a frustrated groan. “ugh, why do you have to be so nice to me?”

karina just laughs softly, running her fingers through your hair. “because someone has to take care of you,” she teases, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “you’re such a brat sometimes.”

you scoff, but the warmth in her voice makes it impossible to stay mad. “i’m not a brat. you just make me act like one.”

“oh, i make you act like that?” she teases again, her voice full of affection as she hugs you tighter. “come on, let’s go inside before ningning sees us and starts asking questions.”

with a reluctant nod, you let her guide you back into the house, her arm draped protectively over your shoulders as the two of you walk upstairs together. the frustration and jealousy from earlier seem to melt away with every step, and by the time you reach your room, you feel lighter, like maybe—just maybe—it’s okay to let someone in, to let someone take care of you for once.

the days after karina’s confession are a blur of stolen glances, secret smiles, and moments that feel like something out of a dream. you still can’t quite believe it, but here you are—walking through the school hallways with karina’s arm slung casually over your shoulders, her presence as grounding as it is exciting. 

and it doesn’t take long for people to notice.

whispers follow you both as you navigate the halls, and it’s not hard to tell what everyone’s talking about. the once-rumored, now-confirmed it couple—you and karina. some people stare in disbelief, others in envy, but you don’t care. karina, as always, seems unfazed, her usual calm, confident demeanor only heightened when she’s with you.

you find yourself tucked under her arm more often than not, her protective hold over you almost possessive but in a way that makes your heart flutter. she’s always close—walking you to class, waiting by your locker, her eyes softening whenever they land on you.

at lunch, you sit with ningning and the others, but now it’s different. karina’s hand rests casually on your thigh under the table, her thumb drawing lazy circles against your skin as she chats with the group. ningning teases you endlessly, of course, but even she can’t deny that you and karina just fit.

"you two are disgusting," ningning jokes, rolling her eyes when she catches karina whisper something in your ear that makes you giggle. "i can’t believe my best friend and my sister are the couple of the year."

karina just smirks, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “get used to it,” she says simply, and you can’t help but blush.

the entire school knows about you now—karina’s arm around you is proof enough—but neither of you care. as long as she’s by your side, you don’t mind the attention.

[chocosvt]

HER | part two.

✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 22.7k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

(!) warnings: drug use (weed, cocaine, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.

✧✎ a/n: just some quick things i want to make apparent!

the fic is told from wonwoo’s pov, not the reader’s! 

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

any smut or potentially triggering scenes are NOT MARKED bc the content is already quite mature, so just plz be aware of that! 

bolded and italicized text implies the characters are conversing in korean, tho it doesn’t happen often!

the fic in its entirety is 140k, so it has been split into 6 parts.

updates: in terms of a posting schedule, i'm pre sure i'm just gonna post every saturday night ~12am EST (so technically sunday lol). taglist is included in the comment section since tumblr now has limit as to how many peeps are mentioned per post :p

thanks againnnn! 🌟

⇢ part one | part three | part four | part five | part six ⇢ soundtrack for those curious! ⇢ read at ur own pace! :)

—MAY 12TH.

Wonwoo was sat on his couch with your laptop glowing in front of him, one hand holding up his chin while the other scrolled slowly through your writing. Finally, you’d let him actually glean your work, and he was quite impressed with your natural skill. He supposed the biggest issue was the choppiness—your sentence structures were much like your racing tangents, and in some areas the writing lacked flow and a smooth continuality. But that sort of ability would just develop on its own as long as you were practicing.

For the most part, Wonwoo was leaving behind small notes and highlighting areas that you could revisit at a later time.

“Okay, I’m going to do a handstand.”

However, as Wonwoo had been combing through your work for the past half-hour, that left you with an apparent boredness which somehow translated into an acrobatics session in his living room.

“I’d really prefer you didn’t,” he answered through the fingers covering his mouth, his eyes trained with focus on the document.

“No, no. I used to be so good at them. Watch.”

Wonwoo was in the midst of typing a note when a small, circular embroidered pillow had suddenly struck the laptop, nearly forcing it shut. It was then that Wonwoo looked up with a long sigh, acknowledging the devious, shining smile that sprung to your face.

“Now that I have your attention—”

Wonwoo titled his head, folded his arms, and propped one foot onto the coffee table, somewhat like an exhausted parent who was being heckled by their child to watch the “special trick” they’d just learned. He was internally praying you actually were good at handstands, because that fragile pottery vase and the antique gold clock sitting on the fire mantel had never looked so breakable until now. A cool breeze slivered in through the open window as your arms began raising above your head, and he heard you inhale steadily.

“Go!” You then shouted, either in motivation or impatience aimed at yourself, loud enough to make Wonwoo flinch.

The next moment, you were basically flipped upside down, your socked feet sticking pointedly in the air while your hands stumbled about on the brown rug for a few seconds, attempting to find their place rooted in the fuzz. Wonwoo pursed his lip, impressed.

“See! Told you!”

“I mean, I never said you couldn’t.”

“Are you amazed?”

He watched with a slight bit of nervousness as you walked a few paces forward with your hands, though he kept his calm composure from the couch and dealt you about three dull claps.

“Cirque de Soleil is asking for you, actually.”

To Wonwoo’s utter relief, you collapsed back onto your feet, probably because the blood was gushing to your head and he’d rather not have you faint squarely on the face in his living room. You then sat on your knees for a moment, rubbing slowly at your scalp.

“I’m almost done,” Wonwoo reaffirmed, moving aside the stitched pillow you’d chucked at him earlier and reopening the laptop.

“Don’t let me rush you.”

He chuckled instantly. “You mean to tell me you’re not bored out of your mind? Why else would you be doing cartwheels.”

Finally, you got up from the rug.

“Um, it was a handstand,” you were hasty to correct him, now sinking into the seat beside Wonwoo on the couch with the circle pillow pulled onto your lap. “I could do a cartwheel, though.”

“Yeah, not in this house you’re not.”

“Not in this house you’re not.”

He merely smirked at your attempt to mimic him by employing a cartoonishly deep tone that you found very amusing, made evident by your prideful giggles close to his ear. Just as Wonwoo scrolled to the end of the document to type his last note, you were piqued with curiosity and leaned over his lap, grabbing at the screen to examine how far he’d come during your hour together.

“So, where are you at anyway?”

Wonwoo pressed himself back into the couch, immediately removing his hands from the keyboard. It felt like at the most random, unpredictable times you would swoop in so close to him, and he never quite knew how to react. Most times he would freeze, become stiff and hardly breathing, run his eyes in all different directions around the room because everything seemed easier when he pretended you didn’t exist.

He adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat.

“I’m basically done.”

“You are? Okay. Hm… it seems like you made a lotta notes.”

Wonwoo squirmed in his seat as though it were scratching him. You eventually pulled away, but your knee was now resting on the side of his thigh and you were sitting much closer than before—close enough that your shoulder was digging into his and he could sense your full, bright eyes burning a stare at his pink cheek.

“They’re mostly easy fixes…” he mumbled, refusing to look at you, instead scrolling impetuously through the document with jerks of his pointer and middle finger.  

“Well, what do you think of it?”

He paused, still staring at the laptop.

“Of what?”

“Wonwoo, my writing, obviously,” you said with a warm laugh and a soft breath that rushed over his neck in such a pleasurable, lightheaded way. “And look at me,” he heard you ask in a lower, more sincere voice, your fingers then ghosting along his tense jaw in a fleeting, sensitive touch as you guided his head gently in your direction, “I just want to know you’re telling the truth.”

He was accustomed to your eyes being filled with sparks and the readiness to pit the most sharp-tongued comment in history, and so Wonwoo was able to relax ever so slightly upon realizing how your gaze had become increasingly mellow, welcoming even.

“Well, you’re obviously good at it,” he managed to answer the question without his voice trembling, “just some pacing issues, mostly. You’ve got a bit of an issue with run-on sentences and closing up a scene. But you plan a lot, which is nice. I mean, you can only get better.”

An earnest smile picked its way across your face, framing your polished teeth and pushing up the apples of your cheeks. Wonwoo had to look away—sometimes it was too much—you were too much, and he refused to let himself drown beneath your intensity that he found purely terrifying. Your knee proceeded to pull from his thigh and you were now dragging your body off the couch, which meant that Wonwoo could safely exhale the breath he was holding. He wondered if you just wanted to hear the compliment, or if you were legitimately pleased with his praise.

You walked up to his fireplace mantel, examining the items left along the white, sparkling trim he’d spritzed clean of all dust.

“Did you make this?” Came your inquiry, a curious finger pointing toward the round-bottomed, thin-necked red vase.

Wonwoo shook his head.

“No, it was a welcome gift from the landlord.”

“She made it?”

“Yeah,” he hummed. “Didn’t I tell you? She owns the pottery business downstairs. Saskia. She immigrated here like, eighteen years ago, now. From Poland. I thought you might’ve run into her.”

Shaking your head, you turned back to the vase.

“I didn’t see her at all.”

“She was probably in her office.”

“How did she make all these little emblem thingies? Around the base? Like, this one’s got an elephant. This one is a fruit tree.”

Wonwoo squinted at the vase from his place on the couch. He hadn’t really examined it much, apart from when his landlord had thrust it into his hands while she welcomed him to the building. It never held any flowers, either—not even the brilliant ruby coloured poinsettias his ex-girlfriend's mother was supposed to send.

The relationship has disintegrated before it could ever happen.

“Fuck, don’t know. She has a bunch of little tools down there for more detailed work. Maybe a stamp. You’d have to ask her.”

“It’s really pretty.”

His brows furrowed. “Yeah? You like ceramics or something?”

You turned back to him, shrugging.

“I don’t know. I was just saying, it’s pretty.”

“It is. It’s very pretty.”

With a sigh, you climbed back onto the couch.

“Do you think you’re done editing?”

He picked up the laptop and set it down on the coffee table.

“I think so. For the day.”

“Perfect.” You smiled. “I’ll make time to read your notes tomorrow morning, if I can. Seems like there’s about eight-hundred.”

Wonwoo chuckled, “not eight-hundred. Try twenty.”

“Twenty?!” Your eyes bulged in shock as you gripped onto the embroidered pillow hugged back into your lap. “That’s so many!”

“What—twenty is somehow more than eight-hundred? What fucking planet are you living on where numeracy works like that?”

“Wonwoo, I have so much to do tomorrow!” You winced, tossing your head against the couch and slipping down the cushions.

“Okay, like what?”

“… Gosh… no, no. Fuck it. It doesn’t matter.”

“No, tell me. What have you got to do tomorrow?”

“I don’t want to tell.”

“Why not?” He murmured.

“If I talk about, then I’ll want to do it even less.” There was an empty sigh he heard from your chest as your arms curled tight around the pillow. “Besides, it’s squished all into my colour-coded block on the schedule. The pink one. I just—I don’t want to think about it.”

“Fair. I get that.”

“It’s complicated family stuff.”

Wonwoo huffed sympathetically. “I get that even more.”

“… So, we’re still good for Spring Street on Sunday?” You asked, staring up at Wonwoo from your sunken, defeated slump.

He nodded.

“I’ll be there if you are.”

—MAY 14TH.

The Spring Street Fair. It happened every single May, for three days straight, usually Friday to Sunday. In the daytime it was cheerier and more watered down for the children that came hand in hand with their parents, looking to feed the alpacas and ride those nauseating teacups and sob until exhaustion because they accidentally let go of their kitten-shaped balloon. However, at night, the fair had become a beacon for the older, rowdier university crowd.

Wonwoo never went despite all his recent years living in the city, but Vernon had, usually on accounts of “business” which really meant selling drugs for idiotic prices behind the Whirler or the Starship. You wanted to go, but hadn’t told Wonwoo the reason. He opted to assume it was another part of your story—maybe you ran into Mingyu at a similar fair when you were younger, and it was therefore very integral you go Spring Street tonight. It was the exact opposite of what Wonwoo typically appreciated doing on Sundays, and he knew for a fact he’d loathe it, every single part.

“No fuckin’ way!” Vernon’s voice exploded through the crackly static on Wonwoo’s phone as he stood in line for the fair, gazing over top everyone’s heads to gauge the ticket booth. “I can’t believe your loser ass actually crawled outta bed for that.”

Wonwoo scoffed, “yeah, it wasn’t my choice.”

“Then what for?”

“Her. She wanted to go. It’s for the book.”

He was supposed to meet you inside the fair. It was almost ten o’clock at night. The sky was beautifully clear, illuminated with pinpricks of starlight, and the air had once been crisp. Now, Wonwoo was beginning to smell sparked cannabis, and he assumed a likewise scent would follow him all damn night. The horrid, anxious process of standing in the mile long line was made palatable through his conversation with Vernon, who—shockingly—wasn’t even there.

“Ohh, the book, the book. Wait—she’s gonna write her book at the fuckin’ Spring Street Fair? How the fuck does that work?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Wonwoo chuckled. “It’s stuff about the settings, the environment; she uses it to help with her writing.”

“Hm, doesn’t make much sense to me, probably ‘cause I don’t like readin' or writin' or anything with books. But, damn, I’m jealous of you, Glasses. Do y’know how hard I tried to smooth talk my way into that girl’s pants? N’somehow, you can write good—”

“Write well, not good.”

“Oh, fuck you—write well—so she takes you everywhere like a little purse dog. When does that happen to me, yeah?”

The line started slowly pouring forward, and Wonwoo felt himself get dragged along. Probably another five minutes and he would be at the ticket booth, getting one of those neon bracelets circled around his wrist that were nearly impossible to rip off.

“Why didn’t you come?” Wonwoo asked.

Vernon groaned, “got into some bullshit with this guy who’s not payin’ up. I’m handlin’ it, though. If I can manage to get it all sorted, I’ll come later. It’s too fuckin’ easy selling those gummies to the first years, dude. Shit, it could be some Flintstone vitamins and they’re actin’ like Chicken Little. Cracks me the fuck up.”

Wonwoo cleared his throat, smiling. “You’re such a cunt.”

“Hey, hey, you are what you eat, okay? And, when you get inside or whatever, text me where you’re hangin’ so if I do come, I can see you for a bit. Dunno if your girlfriend will approve.”

The air began mottling with a thin, chalky smoke that drifted from somewhere down the crowded string of university students. Again, the line shuffled, and the congestion gradually broke up as more people were allowed into the fair. Wonwoo switched the phone to his other ear, getting his wallet ready.

“Don’t even start.”

“Start what? I said nothin’.” Vernon’s laughter was raspy and obviously laced with a smirk that Wonwoo could hear.

“Don’t be such a prick. She’s not my—”

Suddenly, Wonwoo’s phone began vibrating against his palm, and when he pulled it down an immediate lump conjured in his throat upon reading your name. His heart jolted, and it wasn’t until someone pushed hard on his back to urge him forward that he realized the line was once again ambling closer to the ticket booth.

Vernon sighed, “so, again, tell me where you’ll—”

“Shit—uh, gotta go. Talk to you later.”

A few remnants of Vernon’s miffed, guttural cursing managed to leak through the phone before Wonwoo could press to accept your call. In an instant, his friend was blipped away, and he heard your voice instead. He held back a cough from the astringent, cottonish air.

“Wonwoo, hello. I’m glad you picked up. So, where the hell are you? It’s nearly ten! Did you not get in line early?”

Wonwoo kept the phone secured between his shoulder and ear while he shimmied the coins out from his wallet.

“No, I did, promise. Just about to pay. Where are you?”

“When you get in, just follow the arrows. They're lit up with those blue lightbulbs. They go to the tavern. I’m having some drinks with my friends. Don’t worry. You won’t have to do much socializing.”

“Uh, okay,” Wonwoo answered, internally counting up the money in his hand until he was certain of the amount. “Mingyu’s there?”

“No. He always plays poker with his friends on Sunday.”

An unbeknownst pressure escaped his chest.

“Okay. I’m close to the front. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Sure. Don’t be late!”

“I know. Bye.”

Hanging up the phone, Wonwoo had just enough time to wriggle the device into his back pocket before handing the ticket booth clerk his coins. She dropped the cold change into his hand, then asked to see his wrist, where she proceeded to attach the bracelet with the words Spring Street Fair etched into the orange, plasticky-feeling paper.

Finally, he was let inside.

Blue arrows, blue arrows—that was all Wonwoo kept reiterating in his head like some religious hymn as he followed the glow throughout the fairgrounds, weaving his way between large groups of people that he gleefully didn’t recognize. Eventually, he saw the tavern you were referring to—an outdoor bar with picnic tables set up everywhere, beneath cheap little strings of warm, lambent lights.

Even with his glasses on, Wonwoo was still squinting as he walked between each table, attempting to discern your dolled-up face somewhere amongst the strangers sipping on their large mugs of alcohol, that was until he heard his name being called over the music rumbling from the bar’s horrible speakers. When he looked straight ahead, he saw you cutely waving him over. With each step he took, Wonwoo reminded himself to breathe, to loosen up, to stop clenching his fists so painfully tight as though he were going to split someone’s eyebrow. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Just breathe.

You stood up from the table to welcome him, and he felt your hand settle softly on his lower back. The touch was grounding.

“So, everyone, girls, if I could get your attention for just a moment despite the general impairment going on here—this is the mystery guy whose been helping me write. Wonwoo.”

God—he wanted to puke, all those big, curious, unabashed eyes soaking him in like freshly dipped watercolour to a cloth canvas. There was a cluster of high-pitched voices that repeated his name in a shrill, unison greeting. However, Wonwoo was unable to meet a single girl’s gaze, and so he opted to stare down at a paper plate on the table aligned with cinnamon-sprinkled churros.

Again, he wanted to throw up.

“So, of course, Wonwoo’s been the biggest help with everything,” you said, to which he could sense your nails subtly digging at him through his clothes, most likely a silent urge to say something so he didn’t seem so unprecedentedly stiff and metallic.

He cleared his throat.

“Uh, yeah. I’m just proofreading, really.” Wonwoo had to swallow. “Some tips here and there. But, she’s pretty good as is.”

“Is that your actual voice?”

His eyes darted to find who asked the question. She was toward the end of the picnic table, tucking a lock of short, coffee brown hair behind her ear. Before the girl was a gigantic and fluorescent pink drink, the glass resembling the shape of a fish bowl.

“… What do you mean?” Wonwoo replied.

She sat up on her knee, continuing to ogle him with those fixated but glazed chestnut eyes. Her mouth seemed to drag as though it was thawing when she spoke. Wonwoo could tell she was already well inebriated. There was no way that was her first drink.

“Your voice,” she repeated, “it’s so… deep.”

“Well… I don’t know. Puberty.”

His comment elicited some giggles from around the table, to which he could feel the cartilage in his ears burning.

“Wonwoo—” another girl then leaned forward with her head tilted up and a coy, drunk smile flittering on her mouth, “—I think it’s so, so great you’re helping Her write. I actually think it’s the sweetest, ever.” Her lashes were coated in smooth mascara and her eyelids were remarkably glimmery, drenched in an electric shade of blue that he couldn’t stop staring at. “Also, sorry, but you’re like, super gorge.”

“Super what?” He repeated, confused at her wording.

But she didn't seem interested in repeating herself, instead scooping the long and impressively silky black hair off her shoulder to spill down her pale back.

“Okay, okay, okay. We’ve all shared some impetuous conversation and we’ve all swooned over him now. Yippee. Unfortunately, we’ve gotta get going, friends.”

Wonwoo felt your hand land on his shoulder and gently tug him backward, away from the table. You then proceeded to grab the glass left at your seat, chugging the remaining alcohol until there was nothing but a melting block of ice cubes clicking at the bottom. While you wiped your mouth, you began aiming a finger at each girl.

“To make a long story short, that’s Princess, Clara, and Bells. Do you have any comments for them before we go?” The impatience in your tone was bleeding through with sheer apathy.

Wonwoo shrugged. “Uh, nice to meet everyone? I guess.”

“Short and efficient. How perfect. Okay, I’ll see you guys later, I think. Actually—probably not. So can someone eat my churros?”

Your arm curled around Wonwoo’s bicep as though to whisk him away as hurriedly as possible. Everyone left at the table began waving, and Wonwoo couldn’t even bring himself to force a fake, pleasant smile because he was still attempting to understand what all those comments even meant. You walked briskly until the poetic, firefly lights of the tavern were lost long behind in the distance, and when you finally paused, he had not a clue where he was standing—a busy centre with people mingling all around him, the wild whirring of carnival rides and chaotic, blinking hues strobing above his head.

When he looked down at you, he was surprised to see you were already staring back, and he could only hold the eye contact for no more than a few seconds or else his heart would skip a beat.

“Sorry about all that,” you said, rolling your shoulders, “I tried to be somewhat reasonable with my drinking for once. I can’t say the same for Clara and Bells. They guzzle cocktails like apple juice.”

“Bells is… the one with all that sparkly blue eyeshadow?”

“Oh—yeah. She loves sparkles. Glitter. Anything glimmery. She’s been like that ever since I’ve known her. Clara was the one who asked about your voice. She has a thing for guys with deep voices and you unfortunately fit the bill. And I’m sorry that Princess didn’t say anything. She kind of just looks and observes. Also I’m like ninety-eight percent sure she popped something in a porta-potty before we met up so she’s probably in a mental state of star-surfing. Anyway. You don’t have to worry about them, alright? It’s just us for tonight.”

 “Well, that’s… easy enough.”

“I’m not sure if we should stand here.”

“Hm?”

You then pointed to something behind Wonwoo, and when he turned his head, he felt a gust of wind from the gigantic, spinning ride that resembled a flying saucer in the nighttime sky. It was always beyond him why anyone would choose to strap themselves into a machine that terrifying. It made him sick just watching.

“If I get throw up on my head, I’m killing myself.”

“Okay, so let’s find somewhere else.”

As he began walking away in search of a quieter area, you grabbed onto the back of his clothes. Wonwoo raised his eyebrow.

“We have to hold hands, or have arms linked,” you said.

For some reason, Wonwoo presumed you were joking, and so he tilted his head at you with a questioning smile. But when your serious expression didn’t crack, he realized it wasn’t a joke at all.

“Oh… why?”

“Because—” you then took a step toward him and spoke matter-of-factly, like you were reading a rule book, “—it’s the buddy system. Always have someone at your side, and make sure you’re linked in some way. It’s too easy to get separated in places like this, otherwise. Have you never heard of that before?”

“I have,” Wonwoo answered, adjusting his glasses. “My—um, my hands are a little cold. I don’t have the best circulation.”

The truth was, Wonwoo didn’t want to hold your hand. He didn’t want to link arms with you. He didn’t want you pressed into his side all night. He didn’t want to have the scent of your hair under his nose or feel your ticklish breath against his neck each time you spoke.

But he didn’t have a good enough excuse to fight it.

“Oh my god, who cares,” you retorted. “And I have super sweaty hands. Like, uncomfortably warm. We'll balance out.”

 “Actually?”

“Yes! Is that a problem for you, sweetheart?”

Wonwoo quickly shook his head in response to your condescending tone. You then reached for his hand, which he offered up for your required holding, and chose to ignore the butterflies in the deep pit of his stomach when he realized how perfectly your fingers slotted with his. He followed your lead through the fair until you came outside a small lemonade booth. Wonwoo thought you would drop his hand, but you didn’t, and his knees felt like gelatine.

“I want another drink,” you told him.

He squinted at their options, which didn’t really consist of much. The prices were obviously insane—it was another reason he hated going to fairs. His wallet always got cleaned out.

“You’re going to have to use the washroom a lot.”

“Ugh,” you gritted in response, brushing some hair from your face, “I hate public washrooms. They’re so gross. Completely unsanitary. Awful maintenance. One time I was here and I walked into the washroom by the Mirror Hall and I swear, a freaking rat ran across the floor! I screamed bloody murder. I’d rather squat in the bush and risk getting, like, poison ivy. But the washrooms have mirrors obviously, and I like checking my makeup and stuff. I wish I could check now.”

“Right now? I mean, your makeup looks fine.”

Wonwoo saw your entire face freeze, and then begin to warp, as though he’d just said the most dreadful thing he could think of.

“Fine?” You glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He started stumbling over his words, feeling his chest tighten.

“So, what you’re saying is that I look ugly? That my makeup looks bad? Because if you really thought it was ‘fine’ then you wouldn’t have said it looks ‘fine’ because everyone knows that word is a substitute for passable and passable is just a substitute for ugly!”

He opened his mouth, then instantly closed it.

“So what’s wrong with it? Are my under eyes creasing? Is my contour too dark? Is my lipstick smudged? Did it get on my teeth? Ugh, I knew I should have brought my compact!”

“No, no, no.” Wonwoo squeezed your hand, hoping that he could somehow undo the damage he had no intention of even inflicting in the first place. “Uh—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. You look—” he wasn’t sure he could say the compliment without shivering, but Wonwoo didn’t care in the moment, “—your makeup is beautifully done. There’s no creasing or smudging, there’s none of that."

You kept touching worrisomely at your face. “Are you sure?”           

“I promise.” Wonwoo confirmed, giving your hand another tight, reassuring squeeze that seemed to calm you down.

He had never seen someone switch gears that quickly. You could be perfectly amicable one second, and then break down into near hysteria the next, a slew of anxious thoughts running straight from your brain to your mouth like clockwork.

Wonwoo wondered how Mingyu dealt with such tangents all the time. The trait almost didn’t seem to fit your image.

The line moved forward another step.

“Are you going to drink anything?” You asked after a moment of silence, in a quieter voice. “I want to get the strawberry refresher.”

“Maybe.”

“What will you get?”

“I… don’t know. A regular lemonade?”

“No,” you shook your head, pointing toward the corner of the booth’s menu, “get the pina colada thing. I want to try it, too.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo agreed with a shrug as he retrieved his wallet, not really caring about what he drank. “I’ll pay for it. No worries.”

The longer Wonwoo was at the fair, the less he actually thought about why he was there, until the question leapt into his mind at random while he stood beside you, waiting for a seat on the dauntingly large Farris wheel. He removed the straw from his mouth, swallowing a gulp of his pina colada flavoured drink, and peered down at you. His hand was still interlinked with yours. You had finished the strawberry refresher in about five minutes.

Now, you were texting someone. He didn’t know if it was a friend from earlier or perhaps your boyfriend, but Wonwoo wasn’t a serious sleuth, so he opted to look away despite the natural urge that was pricking him. When you finally tucked the phone back into the small bag slung around your shoulder, Wonwoo lowered the plastic cup from his mouth, making sure to clear his throat.

“So, uh, why are we here, exactly?”

You sniffled. “What do y’mean?”

“Does the fair have anything to do with your writing? Is that why we’re riding the Farris wheel? Oh—speaking of which, I didn’t think to bring the camcorder, in case you wanted any footage.”

“Oh, no,” you said, waving a dismissive hand, “this has nothing to do with my book. We’re palate cleansing.”

“Palate cleansing?” He echoed.

“Yeah. It’s like, doing something different in between a routine, to keep yourself fresh. You always eat breakfast at home but today you skip it and go out for brunch. Y’know, shit like that.”

Wonwoo huffed in amusement. “You could have told me beforehand.”

“Uh, no—” your face scrunched up in clear disagreement, “—I couldn’t, because then you wouldn’t have gone. No offence, but you’re a hermit, Wonwoo. You don’t really like going anywhere or doing anything and you’re definitely one of those people who bores themselves into hating their own life because your stimuli is so limited. That’s why I didn’t tell. Again, no offence.”

“Oh.”

That was all he could string together in response—not even string together, because it was just one boring, monotone sound that basically got carried away in the chilly wind, tinted with the smell of buttery popcorn and weed. It sounded like something that was supposed to sting, but it didn’t really. Maybe he was growing more accustomed to your unprompted judgements on his personal life.

Suddenly Wonwoo had blinked and you two were next in line for the empty cart. The clerk pointed at Wonwoo’s drink.

“You can’t bring that with you,” he said.

Before Wonwoo could think to respond, you had already grabbed the cup from his hand, chucking it straight into the garbage.

“We’re not.”

Pulling on his hand, you guided him into the shaky cart, both of you squishing onto the cold, metal bench. It was quite literally the tamest ride in the entire fair, and yet Wonwoo was still feeling nervous about it—though, that was possibly the fact he was going to be sailed one-hundred feet into the satin black sky, left amongst the stars and the bright, shimmering halo of the moon with you and you alone. He was actually relieved you had tossed his drink, otherwise he might have dropped it due to the trembling in his fingers. It was easier to fiddle with them in order to disguise their shakiness.

“I guess I should have asked if you’re afraid of heights,” you said.

The cart jerked abruptly as the ride began to move and lift you two ever so gradually from the ground. Wonwoo peered over the edge for a brief moment to watch his distance grow from the people below, their jumbled mess of conversations fading in place of quiet.

“Uh, no. I’m okay with heights,” he finally answered.

He saw you glancing down as well, smiling to yourself.

Wonwoo wasn’t sure if he should attempt at conversation or just maintain the stillness between you. Usually, he couldn’t stand it, and the pressure to talk and fill the silence always tended to fail or squander something potentially enjoyable. But he supposed it was typically like that in a situation where two people weren’t the best acquainted—that’s why Wonwoo always quite liked Vernon, despite his rough, nonconformed edges and often vulgar way of speaking.

He was able to carry a conversation so naturally that the quieter moments never felt suffocating, instead falling exactly where they should, like puzzle pieces. But that was harder with you.

Maybe it was because you could be intimidating, unpredictable—Wonwoo was never truly relaxed around you because there was this intangible, looming worry that he needed to have the perfect responses and be the most perfect person. He found that perfect people only hung out with other perfect people and Wonwoo was certainly not that—perfect. You must have seen it by now. He was just as rough as Vernon no doubt, but in a different, hidden way that had to be dug into like an archeologist looking for broken bones.

The Ferris wheel slowed down, coming to a stop. You weren’t at the very top, though the air was notably cooler and much fresher. When he inhaled a long breath, it smelled purely of night and not overpriced, buttery fair food and burning weed. He noted that you stared straight ahead, at the crescent-shaped moon, which mirrored a backward stare with how squarely it sat in front of the ride. For once, Wonwoo wasn’t squirming, wriggling, stressing at the silence. When he spoke, he did it because he genuinely wanted to.

“How was your Saturday?”

“My Saturday?”

“Yeah. I saw the schedule. You had to run a bunch of errands with your mom. Looked like you were pretty keyed up.”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I want to say I was overreacting the day before about how much I was dreading it. But then it fucking happened. And… I, uh… I realized I was exactly right. It was awful. I did get to your notes, though… yeah—I just—I squeezed them in between brunch with my mom’s friend who could talk herself to death and the excruciating car ride to the publisher’s office.”

“Mmhm.” Wonwoo smiled tenderly. “Did they help at all?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “a lot, actually… thank you.”

“I’m sorry your Saturday went so terribly.”

Huffing in response, you nibbled on your inner check.

“Yeah, well, it is what it is… I already knew it was gonna be a shit show. So, what is it that you write about, anyway? Because you seem like you know a whole lot. Seokmin says you let him read some of your poetry, but it was only like, two excerpts.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Wonwoo recalled the memory of Seokmin picking up his leather notebook when it fell out from his bag one day. He’d pestered him about the contents until Wonwoo succumbed and presented him with some lifeless, impatiently scribbled prose that he’d most likely jerked out on the bus or in between his lectures. Seokmin seemed to treat it like fine, prestigious gold, though Wonwoo knew it was the least personal of his work that he would never let another living soul on the planet breathe—not one scent of the ink or even the paper.

“So, you write poetry?”

“I started writing poetry, haikus and all that easy stuff. I developed the interest a lot more through high school. But I never sat down and tried writing anything like a novel until I... I started uni.”

“Yeah. Deciding to be a math major. I still don’t get it,” you sighed, fidgeting with some rings on your fingers. “But what do you even write about? Like, what’s your inspiration?”

Wonwoo paused, looking down at his knees.

“… Life.”

“Life?” You defeatedly slumped into the seat. “That’s the million dollar answer your intelligent brain chose to erect? It’s just that when I think about it, I’m letting you help me with my writing, but I’ve never even read a little smidgen of yours. How’s that fair?”

The higher the Farris Wheel climbed, the stronger the breeze blew, and Wonwoo could feel its tendrils lashing across his cheeks and parting through his hair. You huddled further into your jacket.

“Well, you took Seokmin’s word for it,” Wonwoo laughed.

Your eyes rolled, but you smiled gently. “I know.”

Suddenly, your hand had reached out, and you were pushing the floppy, black tresses off his forehead. Wonwoo’s fingers dug bluntly into his arms. You then angled yourself in the small cart, looking back at him, sculpting your gaze to each crest in his face.

“Why don’t you ever push your hair back?”

The question hit the dark, cold atmosphere like a sizzling ember and Wonwoo was afraid to even open his mouth because he was certain a dying squeak would come out. You continued to play around with the locks, earthing your fingers deep into its texture and attempting to style it despite the persistent, fluttering breeze.

“Um…”

“If you styled it like this—” you moved in closer, staring with so much focus at your nimble movements, “—yeah, like that. It shows off your forehead, gives you a bit of class. I mean, the wind’s messing it up. You don’t tend to do anything with your hair.”

“No.” Wonwoo swallowed, hard.

“Well, you should. Not all the time, obviously. And I’m not saying you look bad with it down—not at all. But you’ve got nice, smouldering features and they’re so much more… framed… when you show your forehead.” You collapsed back into the seat, and that tingly feeling he experienced when your fingers had been tugging and pulling was disseminating throughout his entire body. “I mean, look at how my friends reacted to you. I should apologize for that again, by the way. O-M-F-G, they see one hot guy, and they lose their grip.”

He nearly choked. “Hot?”

It didn’t sound right. Not at all.

“Well, what the fuck, Wonwoo? You’re not ugly.”

“Did you think that when you first saw me?”

You had folded your leg again as the Farris wheel came to another stop. This time, at the very top, at the centre of the night.

“Did I think what? That you’re not ugly?”

“Never mind,” Wonwoo grimaced, hearing the cart creek as you better positioned yourself to face him. “It’s pathetic like that.”

“No. I didn’t think you were ugly. Did you think I was ugly?”

Wonwoo wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the question, but he smothered it down because he knew one little laugh might hit your ear the wrong way, and it would be flames, sputtering and spewing. Obviously, he didn’t think you were ugly—he never had, even before he ever spoke to you. But he wasn’t so shallow as to only regard someone’s physical appearance. You were still terrifying.

“I wouldn’t consider anyone ugly... and I wouldn’t ever use it to describe some aesthetically. But—I mean, I think people can become ugly through their personality, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah, like, if they’re rotten inside.”

“Mmhm.”

“I agree.”

“What was that word your friend Bells said?”

You shrugged, “which word?”

“She said something like, you’re super… I don’t know… super something.”

“Oh—” you sat up more in the cart, your back pressed against the uncomfortable corner, “—Bells said you were super gorge.”

“Meaning…”

“Meaning super gorgeous.” You made a big show of the rehashed compliment, parroting your friend's tone and swaying your shoulders.

“Oh… really?” Wonwoo shook his head. “I thought she was referring to gorge as in when you gorge yourself, from eating.”

“No,” you giggled at him, “it’s a short form, dumb-dumb.”

“Why make a short form out of that? Is it really that strenuous to say the word gorgeous? It’s only an extra syllable.”

“Okay, well, this isn’t the nineteen-twenties. We don’t all cross our T’s and dot our I’s. It reminds me of how you text.”

He furrowed his brow. “How do I text?”

Your eyes rolled frivolously. “I dunno. Like you’re typing to a business colleague or something. You’re so formal. When I think of you texting, I imagine it’s like someone using a typewriter. And that funny little ding sound it makes whenever you start a new line.”

“Oh.”

“What—no one’s ever told you that before? No way.”

“That I text like I’m using a fucking typewriter? No, actually. I can’t say I’ve heard that.”

“Well, it’s not a big deal. You’re just not very plugged into the internet, I suppose. Which is a good thing. It gives you prestige.”

At that, Wonwoo chuckled. “Does it?”

“Yes,” you smiled, eyes full of starlight, “and—just ignore Bells, okay? She was being kind of weird but that can be fully attributed to those three shots I told her not to take.”

“Hm.”

You continued to stare at him with a plotting smile.

“Hm what? What’s the matter?” The metal of the cart squeaked as you leaned forward, your voice suddenly lathered in mischief. “Did you think she was cute?” He heard your tone drop, and your low, smooth voice breathing hot against his ear. “Did you think about fucking her, Wonwoo?”

“No—what the fuck—not at all.” Quickly, he’d pushed you away and off his shoulder, to which you retreated into the corner with a giggle that should have made his skin crawl, but didn’t.

“Well, how would I know?” You answered, tilting your head and stretching out your arms high into the blackness, as though you were trying to reach for a star. “I never know, because you never look at me. It makes me think you just lied and you do think I’m ugly.”

Wonwoo glanced over the edge of the cart, at the almost nauseating distance between himself and the fairgrounds, covered with miniature, bustling people that seemed like breadcrumbs by comparison to their place in the sky. He didn’t want to sink into this conversation. Besides, how was he supposed to look at you when your fingers were just gliding through his hair and your lips were whispering close enough to brush up against his ear? How was he supposed to act composed? Normal?

“Hey, Wonwoo?” Your fingers snapped.

But he just kept thinking. Like he was cut from a separate cloth than you—the fabric of his universe wasn’t woven with yours and he could ruminate as much as he wanted to and it was impossible to hear your intrusions. Why couldn’t he look at you?

You intimidated him, yes. You scared him, double yes.

He already knew that. It couldn’t just be that.

“Wonwoo? God… you shut down over the simplest things.”

“I don’t know.”

You paused, staring him up and down, perplexed.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know why I can’t look at you.”

There was a lasting silence between you. Wonwoo felt like he might throw up for acknowledging the fact out loud, and his fist tightened in his lap as though to ground himself—to remember where he was and to breathe slowly, because having a panic attack on top of a stupid Ferris Wheel was the last place it should happen. He hadn’t even realized that you’d shifted closer, one leg curled beneath you while you spoke at the side of his head. But he didn’t hear you, couldn’t see you—there was a harsh void inside him that sounded like suctioning air and static. His fingernail was pressing so deeply into the flesh of his pale skin that it was beginning to faintly bleed.

And—all of a sudden—there were these hands cautiously gripping onto his face, pulling him toward you. He kept staring at the movement of your soft lips, focusing on their pronunciation until everything flooded back in one overwhelming whirl and it felt like being slammed by a freight train.

Wonwoo then grabbed onto your bare knee as a crutch. He didn’t mean to. But you didn’t seem to care.

“—everything okay? Wonwoo? Do I need to like, call someone? Because you look like you’re going to be sick.”

He heaved in a gaping breath, feeling how cold the midnight air was in the thinning atmosphere that encompassed him. It was soothing, akin to a hand massaging along his back.

“Wonwoo?” You repeated his name, sounding awfully scared.

Pulling off his glasses, he rubbed at his eyes. He blurrily saw you touch the spot on your knee where his hand had buried into.

“Sorry,” he then coughed through the heartbeat raspy in his throat, bringing the glasses back to his face, “I spaced out.”

“Spaced out?” You echoed. “That wasn’t spacing out.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He thought you fight might it.

“Well…” you sighed, glancing around uncertainly, “are you okay? Is there someone you want to call? I don’t know.”

But you didn’t. Thank God.

“No, I’m—” he stopped, gulping back the words.

“… Yeah?” There was a softer intrigue in your cadence.

Wonwoo looked at you. Fully this time. He looked straight into your eyes that were like a glossy, moonlit ocean, detailed with swirling riptides of surprise and apprehensiveness, but also immense depth that seemed genuinely appreciative of his gesture.

“I’m fine.”

And then he watched you nod, smile, and in return study his cavern eyes with the same intensity and wonder. It was such a peculiar experience, staring at you, understanding a little more of your truth, your gentleness.

He didn’t feel as scared.

—MAY 16TH.

Wonwoo had been standing before the mirror in his washroom for the past half-hour or so, primarily just staring, examining, and pulling at the long, limp fronds of his hair. There was a point in his life when he legitimately put effort into styling it, and all his old hair products were still sitting in the cabinet. Though, his ex-girlfriend had tended to help him with it most days, because he found the strands were just too thick and stubborn to work with.

However, since the Spring Street Fair, Wonwoo hadn’t been able to shake those comments you made—about how nicely his face could be framed and the smouldering nature of his features. He would never think to describe himself that way as it seemed particularly pompous and kind of foolish, but hearing you say it was different. The thing was, Wonwoo had no idea where to start, and attempting to rummage his fingers through his hair just didn’t feel as stimulating or electric compared to your meticulous, sweet touch.

In the midst of opening his cabinet for a comb, Wonwoo heard his phone vibrate. He looked down at the sink, seeing the screen brighten with a text notification from Vernon.

[ Vernon | 12:54 pm ]: hey Glasses

[ Vernon | 12:54 pm ]: Solar Pop at 2?

Wonwoo thought about it for a moment, running his thumb down the spine of the comb to hear the little thwip. And then he sighed in decision, texting back a thumbs up. It’s not like he was working later, and as much as Wonwoo would love to believe that today might be the day he made actual progress on his own story, he knew it was just wishful thinking. In reality he’d waste ample time staring into the document, pondering all the scenes and emotions and nuances he could write rather than moving to write anything at all.

Besides, he hadn’t eaten yet today. The thought of a juicy, sauce-slathered, bun-toasted burger being his first meal prompted the boy’s face to sallow greenly with sickness, but the longer he stood in the washroom, combing and slicking and running styling balm through the black bird’s nest on his head, Wonwoo felt the hunger start to bite like an emaciated, starved dog. He left his apartment knowing he would be somewhat late, but Vernon was always later.

And while Wonwoo sat in one of the booths at Solar Pop, flicking the laminated menu back and forth despite knowing the exact order he was going to place, he thought about sending Vernon another text to ask where the hell he even was. Wonwoo could only sip his slippery glass of coke for so long until the waitress decided he was crazy and had been one-hundred percent stood up.

“Hey, fuck, I’m here.”

2:24 pm—that’s when Vernon finally arrived, sliding himself into the leather bench opposite to Wonwoo while tossing his big, metallic clump of keys onto the table. The boy then proceeded to shimmy off his black jacket, propping his elbows onto the table.

If Vernon ever pulled a tardy stunt like that with you, Wonwoo imagined his friend would probably get stuffed into one of those boxes for sawing people in half. Except it wouldn’t be magic.

“Did you get pulled over or something? Police raid? Traffic stop?” Wonwoo asked, now resting his menu down flat.

Vernon laughed, shaking his head. “Uh, no. Couldn’t find my fuckin’ car keys,” he spoke in a breathless voice. “Sorry ‘bout it.”

“Couldn’t find them?” Wonwoo almost scoffed at the excuse while his friend began scouring his way through the menu. “Dude, they’re the fucking size of a bowling ball. How could you lose them?”

“Okay, okay. Fuckin’ skin me alive, why don’t you?”

“You didn’t come from your place, I’m guessing.”

At that, Vernon began to grin, the metal on his pierced lip glinting underneath a ray of sunlight through the blinds. He was still occupied with choosing which burger he wanted. Wonwoo picked the same choice every time. Vernon always tried something different.

“No, I didn’t,” he rasped, flashing his sharp teeth and flipping the menu over, “but when Maleeha Rabia sends you a text at goddamn one in the morning of her tits, you don’t roll over n’ go to bed like some loser. Besides, my ecstasy was just sittin’ around and I had to use it one way or another. Anyway, doesn’t fuckin’ matter. I think I’ll get the Double Bacon Crunch Burger. Sounds good as hell.”

Finally, Vernon threw the menu down with conviction.

“Jesus Christ—” his copper-burnt eyes then flared open as he looked across the table at his friend, “—who the fuck are you?”

Wonwoo itched his nose. “Um, what?”

Vernon leaned forward, seeming captivated. “Uh, your fuckin’ hair? How’d you get it like that? It’s all brushed over and soft lookin’ and shit. I feel like I shouldn’t be sittin’ with you, Prince Charmin’.”

“I just put some balm in it, combed it around,” he answered, reaching for his drink. “Took me a humiliating amount of time.”

“Well, consider me starstruck. What’s made you do all that?”

Before Wonwoo could answer, the waitress returned to the table with her small notepad and shiny pen. Vernon pitched his order first, and Wonwoo followed, asking for the regular quarter-pounder with a side of hot crinkle-cut fries. Once she whisked the menus away and promised to grab Vernon’s root beer float, Wonwoo realized he still had to answer his friend’s question. He didn’t exactly want to tell the truth, because he knew Vernon would never let him hear the end of it, but Wonwoo also didn’t want to be too dishonest.

“Your face is doin’ that thing.”

“What thing?” Wonwoo answered, swallowing his sip of soda.

Vernon crossed his arms on the table, accenting the canvas of darkly-inked tattoos needled into his skin. He shook his head.

“It’s ‘cause of your little girlyfriend, isn’t it?”

Fuck. Wonwoo should have just opened his mouth straight away and spieled out some quick-witted lie. Now he would be painfully subject to Vernon’s unfiltered teasing. Leaning back in his seat, Wonwoo unearthed a miserable sigh at Vernon’s smirk.

“You’ve gotta drop that bullshit.”

“It’s true,” Vernon pressured.

“No, it’s not.”

As though to interpret Wonwoo’s steadfastness as a challenge, Vernon leaned further over the table, dropping his voice but still smiling devilishly through every word he mimicked between his teeth.

“Oh, Wonwoo, your hair looks so fucking sexy like that. It makes you look so perfect. You’re from my dreams. Please, just fuck me right here, right now so I can push my fingers through it ‘cause it’s so soft and silky and I’m basically in love with you.”

“Shut the fuck up. Please.”

“That was a good impression, though, wasn’t it?”

In the loud space of Wonwoo’s disgusted silence, the waitress placed Vernon’s drink onto the table and ensured the food would be coming soon. Vernon watched her walk away, back into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he then grinned in capitulating fashion, “take a stupid joke, alright? I know she’s not in love with you and she doesn’t wanna suck your dick—she’s got a fuckin’ boyfriend. If it makes you feel any better, I’m just projectin’ ‘cause you know I’m jealous.”

Wonwoo sucked in a sip from his coke, shaking his head.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vernon dismissed, poking his spoon at the near perfect scoop of vanilla ice cream afloat in the frosty mug, “but just so y’know, your mopey ass left me out to dry on Sunday night. Shoved me off the phone, didn’t respond to one of my texts. You’re lucky I even asked you t’hang today. Did she take your phone or something’?”

Shit. When Vernon said it like that, Wonwoo seemed like a terrible friend. Maybe he did deserve a deal of teasing. But at the same time, Wonwoo knew how easy it was for your attitude to flip and he hadn’t been at all interested in starting the night with hostility.

“Okay, fair.” He admitted, rolling up his sleeves.

“And?” Vernon raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“I’m sorry.”

“There you fuckin’ go. That’s all I wanted t’hear, Glasses.”

The truth was, Wonwoo actually quite enjoyed his time with you that night—despite the transient, bickering hiccups and his nearly faltering panic attack, he had fun. Actual fun. Of course, as soon as your ride ended on the Ferris wheel, you’d clutched onto his hand like a snake sinking in its fangs and dragged him throughout the entirety of the fair to find a washroom. Nonetheless, he really loved playing some carnival games with you, like skee ball and the water pistol. He was even able to win you a pink stuffed bear that you had carried close to the chest for the remainder of your time at the fair.

Wonwoo thought he could spend another night like that with you again. Just to get out of his apartment, to feel exhilaration in the pit of his stomach, to laugh until his lungs dried out, to hold your warm, comforting hand in his even when it became too clammy or inconvenient because otherwise you would scold him for letting go.

“Food’s on the way,” Vernon perked up like a child about to be served a slice of birthday cake as the waitress walked over with two full plates, “if you can’t finish yours, I’ll take it.”

“Yeah—how about you focus on chewing and not choking to death first,” Wonwoo sighed, watching his friend’s metaphorical tail wag.

Once she set the food down, inquiring about any refills, and left while flashing her perfected customer service smile, Vernon grabbed the burger with both his hands, taking a gigantic, succulent bite that somehow didn’t singe the roof of his mouth. Wonwoo winced, instead going for his crisped, golden fries.  

“Damn. You’re really that hungry?”

“I’m ravenous,” Vernon mumbled, picking up a few caramelized onions that fell onto his plate. “Dude, I woke up at noon in Maleeha’s bed. She was out cold. Nothin’ in her pantry but some stale fuckin’ Fruit Loops that I may have tried. I’m a grown ass man. I need a meal.”

“I’m glad you’re so proactive," Wonwoo answered, sinking his burning hot fry into the small side-bowl of ketchup.

It took them less than half an hour to clean their plates. Wonwoo tended to eat at a slower pace, with smaller, more savoury bites, while Vernon sloppily devoured his entire burger and gobbled down his fries with the occasional dipping into the root beer float’s ice cream. They scarcely talked in between, too focused on eating and drinking. Wonwoo pushed away his plate when he’d finished and proceeded to wipe off his salty, crumb-speckled fingers with a napkin, meanwhile Vernon took a moment to sink backward into the leather seat, placing a hand over his full, satiated stomach.

“Hey, do y’think they have any Life Savers?” He eventually piped up while sticking a toothpick into his mouth. “I want grape.”

Wonwoo scoffed, tossing the napkin onto his plate and taking out his phone. “Who the fuck likes grape?”

“Me, you smartass,” Vernon answered, turning backward in his seat and scanning the restaurant for any colourful candy bowls.

He couldn’t deny that he was hoping to see a text from you, but there was nothing, and his chest dropped. Wonwoo decided to open the schedule you had made, curious as to what you were even doing today—work until five o’clock, and then you were going out for supper with some friends at Terra Cotta.

He thought about texting you. His thumbs kept hovering above the keyboard in contemplation, even though he knew for certain he wouldn’t text anything. He would just stare and hope.

“Holy shit. Uh, oh my God. Wonwoo. I-I see—”

Vernon had suddenly reached a hand onto the table, slapping the lacquered wood a few times to garner his attention.

“What?” He mumbled in agitation, keeping his focus glued to the phone. “If you see the Life Savers just go up and take some. I swear, they’re not gonna fucking care you’re not twelve years old.”

“No, no, no, dumbass,” Vernon hissed, turning back around in the booth, his honey eyes glistering in oils of dread and panic. “Look, actually look. That’s Mingyu, isn’t it?”

Immediately, Wonwoo clicked off his phone, instead squinting into the distant corner of the restaurant where a notably tall, black-haired boy with tanned, amber skin had emerged from a doorway, standing in a somehow casual but imposing way that only be Mingyu.

It must be Mingyu, and that fact became glaringly obvious when Wonwoo made the unintentional, floundering mistake of staring straight into the boy’s wandering and earthen brown eyes.

“Oh my fuckin’ God, oh my fuckin’ God,” Vernon kept reiterating under his breath, bouncing his knee like an anxious student waiting for their test. “He definitely saw us. Or—he definitely saw you. This is so bad, man. I think he’s gonna rock me.”

“What?” Wonwoo whispered back harshly, attempting to float his gaze away from Mingyu in a casual manner. “For what reason?”

It seemed like Vernon almost wanted to gag at him. “Um—because of what fuckin’ happened between me n’ his girl! At that party? I told you about that shit, didn’t I?” He rasped from across the table, his bottom lip worried between biting teeth. “Dude, what if he tries to pull a fast one? You’re what—like six foot something? You have to help back me up. I can throw a pretty solid punch—even better when I’m shit-faced—but that might not be enough. Lady Liberty’s built like a brick.”

“Okay, you’re acting crazy,” Wonwoo uttered in disbelief. “I doubt he’s going to be anything but physical, especially in a public place. And, you said you didn’t know Her was in a relationship.”

“How the fuck do I know he knows that? Can’t exactly use my infectious charm on someone whose girlfriend I tried to rail.”

Vernon somehow dared to spare another rapid glance over his shoulder, only to shed an entire mould of colour from his complexion.

“He’s coming, he’s—”

“Shut up and relax,” Wonwoo mumbled. “I’m sure it’s nothing big—he’ll say a thing or two and be on his way. God, I’ll handle it.”

For some reason, Wonwoo thought he should be sinking into consternation a lot more than he actually was, but it’s not that his chest wasn’t thumping or his mind wasn’t spinning amuck with worry. It was more so that he was managing the whirlwind, as best he could, as much as he could manage. Mingyu wasn’t a complete stranger, and all their past interactions had been boringly cordial or even forgettable. Nonetheless, Wonwoo would still prefer to avoid the boy because that made his life simpler in the grand scheme of anxiety.

“Hey, Wonwoo,” Mingyu approached the table with a confident, leisurely stride, extending his large hand for Wonwoo to grab, exchanging a dap. “I almost didn’t recognize you for a sec.”

“All good,” Wonwoo answered, attempting a polite grin that felt much more sweltering on the inside than out. “How’ve you been?”

Mingyu shrugged, burying his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants while he gazed at the slitted curtains for a moment, pondering his reply. “Decent. Playing a lot of basketball. I don’t think I’ve seen you since I came to the pharmacy. You still there?”

“Still there.”

“Well, at least I haven’t had to come in for a fuckin’ pregnancy test yet. That’s good I suppose, yeah?” The boy chuckled, then tilting his head a certain way to crack a stiff spot in his neck.

“Aisle five if you ever need it.”

Mingyu responded with a smirk that perhaps lasted a second too long, and these slimming, analyzing eyes—a gaze that Wonwoo felt ripple in his gut. He chose to believe it was nothing dire, or else he would spiral right there on the spot and lose all fine-tuned control.

Meanwhile Vernon had been sitting quietly the entire time, most likely hoping he would remain in the dark, skulking shadows outside Wonwoo’s spotlight. But he must not have been hoping hard enough, because Mingyu proceeded to smile at him, again extending his hand for another dap, which Vernon yielded apprehensively.

“You’re a pretty recognizable guy, unfortunately,” Mingyu acknowledged with a husky laugh—a clear reference to the boy’s identifying tattoos and numerous facial piercings, “I think you deal to at least a third of my friends. It’s Vernon, right?”

“Mmhm. Yes sir.” To Vernon’s luck, he had a well-polished and gleaming smile that made it impossible for him to seem disingenuous, though Wonwoo knew he was wilting inside.

“I’m sorry about Dots.”

“Oh, uh. All good. It is what it is, y’know?”

Mingyu nodded.

“Hey—those tattoos are crazy good. Where’d you get them?”

Vernon looked across his arm. “Thanks. Mostly Liquid Impact—dude there that I call Funfetti ‘cause he eats Funfetti box cake all the time. Uh, but his actual name’s like, Axel or some white-boy shit like that. He’s done a majority of it. The others—man, I don’t know. Half the time I’m off my fuckin’ face and wake up with shit I never remember.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mingyu sniffed, running a hand through his long, shiny onyx locks of hair. “Guess you also don’t remember promising my girlfriend the best sex of her life, right?”

At that, Vernon looked straight to Wonwoo, and Wonwoo returned the enlarged, incinerating stare straight back, reading the split-second terror that swam like flopping fish in Vernon’s eyes. The atmosphere hit the ground with a palpable and ugly shatter.

“Yeah, um—about that—”

Mingyu then balanced backward on his foot for a moment, beginning to chuckle, sway his head, as though to dismiss the entire accusation in the same intense breadth it was mentioned.

“Nah, nah. I’m playing around,” the boy chuckled, rubbing at his nose. “You didn’t know she was taken. No hard feelings, yeah?”

Vernon immediately nodded his agreement, and the tension nailed into his broad shoulder line seemed to melt. “For sure. No hard feelings. I mean, she’s beautiful. Can’t even imagine what it’s like bein’ her boyfriend when you’ve got sluts like me around.”

Mingyu grinned, “no, you’re good. I know she gave you some attitude about it. Bit of a troublemaker herself. But, yeah. Water under the bridge.” The boy’s attention then turned back to Wonwoo, who was more than eager to somehow extinguish the conversation from you as a topic. “I know she’s hangs out with you right now.”

“Oh, yeah,” Wonwoo hummed, “the book thing.”

“She doesn’t like talking to me about it.”

“Well, don’t stress,” he answered, catching the sunlight that blitzed through the curtains and dipped like a gold paintbrush into the boy’s eyes, turning them to warm molasses, “she’ll show you the whole damn thing when it’s over and done with.”

Mingyu huffed, “I thought she’d have dropped it by now.”

“I don’t think she will. She’s pretty committed.”

“Hm.” He nodded simply in response, kissing his teeth.

Vernon folded his arms, leaning back into the leather seat with the toothpick again sitting in his mouth. “You got any plans for the summer, then? Doesn’t your pal always throw a huge party?”

“Yeah, actually. Doing it this year if we can manage. Seungcheol’s parents pretty much spend their entire summer bouncing around all the Great Lakes. We’re gonna do a co-hosting type deal and—shit, since you’re here, this is really good timing.” Mingyu then looked down at Vernon and lowered his gravelly voice. “I know what your main gig is. What about blow? You sell it?”

A slow but gradual, catlike grin trudged the edges of Vernon’s mouth, to which he pulled out his toothpick and set his elbows onto the table. “Look, can’t chop it up here, man. Ask one of your friends for my burner. I can get you to the ski slope, but it costs, obviously.”

“Nah, that’s fine. It’s just—my last plug fell through.”

“Tough.”

“Yeah. Okay, well, I should get going. I’ll follow up with you later. Do you care if Seungcheol knows the number, too?”

“No,” Vernon shrugged, planting the toothpick into the corner of his mouth and flicking it with his tongue, “just don’t go throwin’ it around. I could only get enough for a couple people, anyway.”

“All good. Okay—later, guys.”

Mingyu stepped away from the table with a wave and a flash of his pearled, charming smile, nothing but the mild scent of his fresh and expensive-smelling cologne to swirl through the now vacant space. In true espionage fashion, Wonwoo and Vernon both picked open the slots between the restaurant curtains, cautiously observing the boy’s stride into the parking lot and onto the sidewalk, where he at last disappeared into the warm, sunny afternoon.

Heaving a gigantic exhausted breath, Wonwoo took off his glasses and set them in his lap, massaging deep into his eye sockets.

“Y’know, he’s not that fuckin’ bad,” Vernon commented, “I mean, he scares the shit outta me, but that could have gone worse.”

"Jesus Christ—I can’t believe what I just watched.”

His friend laughed, banging his fist excitedly enough on the table to engender the silverware clattering on their plates. “Ha! I know, right? Dude—Seungcheol and Mingyu are the kingpins of that fuckin’ university you go to. They can cough up the big bucks for that shit. Just imagine the distribution pay I'm gonna get with them on my roster—actually, that couldn’t have gone better.”

“And where are you gonna get it?” Wonwoo pressured, at last settling his glasses back on, clarifying Vernon’s smudged, blurry face.

“Well, let me fuck around and work my magic.”

“I don’t want him to use you.”

“Pfft. I don’t give no fucks about being used,” Vernon cackled, wearing a self-indulgent, luminous smile and continuing to play around with the toothpick while he readied his wallet to pay. “You know what you should worry about, Glasses? Sweet talkin’ the fuck outta that dude’s girl and securin' yourself an invite. You probably don’t even need to try sweet talkin’—she obviously likes you.”

“No,” Wonwoo grumbled, “no way.”

“You don’t want to go?”

“Why would I want to go, dumbass? The last time I went to a party, I ran into you. They’re loud and suffocating. I’ll pass.” Wonwoo also pulled out his wallet, taking his card. “Besides, I get the sense Mingyu doesn’t trust me a whole lot. I’m not gonna stir the pot.”

Vernon shook his head. “You stir the pot every time you hang out with his girl to go write romantic poetry and run around, gigglin’ at Spring Street. N’yeah, exactly. You met me. I don’t get the fuss.”

“It’s nothing like that," Wonwoo answered in frustration.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a Patron Saint. I just want my Life Saver.”

—MAY 19TH.

Wonwoo was going to your apartment today for the first time, and it had nearly killed him in the process.

His abhorrent sleep schedule hung over his head every single instance he woke up at lunchtime, the entirety of his mornings wasted to weathered heartbreak and its lasting, stained consequences. Needing to be at your apartment for ten had Wonwoo buckling his face into anguished hands the night before, wondering how he was going to pull off such a triumph without wishing for death.  

He did know one thing for certain—the sound of his alarm erupting into its timely, strident beeping made him instantly sick. In fact, the first thing Wonwoo did was half-stumble in complete bleariness out from his bed, dragging a white sheet along by his ankle as he burst into the washroom and hung his head over the toilet like he was sweating through a wicked hangover. But it wasn’t alcohol. It was months of bad, soul-stitched habit festered up in stomach bile and perhaps, a hatred for himself. It was his own fault, in a way.

And yet, when you texted him a half-hour later to reconfirm your address, Wonwoo replied with not the slightest hint that he was feeling pretty fucking terrible. The headache and shudders followed him down the street, onto the bus, and into the lobby of your notably opulent apartment complex. He felt rather incongruous amongst all the marble—the white trim, the clean, untainted air, even the breakfast table with dispensable lemon water and small, fruit-topped pastries that somehow made Wonwoo want to kill himself.

He looked down at his phone.

[ Her | 9:10 am ]: 717 thorton street, unit 61

[ Her | 9:45 am ]: are you almost here? :)

Wonwoo pressed the button to the elevator.

[ Wonwoo | 9:50 am ]: Yes. In the building.

His phone vibrated immediately with a text.

[ Her | 9:50 am ]: I’m so excited

The doors pulled apart. Wonwoo stepped aside for a couple who were leaving the elevator before he entered. Quickly, he clicked the button to close the doors, not wanting to share the space with anyone but himself and the headache throbbing at the forefront of his cranium. He sighed, glancing at his texts again to reply.

[ Wonwoo | 9:51 am ]: Do you have any Tylenol?

[ Her | 9:51 am ]: most def

[ Her | 9:51 am ]: what’s wrong?

[ Wonwoo | 9:52 am ]: Nothing much. Just a headache.

When he didn’t receive an immediate answer, he assumed you had put the phone down to search your medicine cabinet. Getting off the elevator, Wonwoo proceeded to find the correct apartment. He put his fist up to the door, and then, at the last second, stopped.

There it was again—the same melting pot of anxiety and butterflies that had bubbled up when you first visited his place.

He supposed the feelings never truly disappeared each time he would see you, and he was beginning to detest it. Why couldn’t his body just adapt? Get over it? What purpose did it serve to constantly remind him of his unkempt emotions? It was like the idea of you terrified him more than you as an actual person, because in person, he felt comfort, as crazy as it sounded. So why couldn’t his anxiety and security just complete that stupid sliver of a synapse for once?

Knock knock.

After a moment, the handle clicked, and the door to sumptuous unit 61 was pulled open. For the first time, Wonwoo saw your face without any makeup, and it sort of made him stutter in his words—not that he was shocked in abhorrence at the contrast, more so the vulnerability behind it, the fact you felt comfortable enough to shed your compulsion with always presenting a perfect, glamoured face. He was pleased to see you were in a fuzzy pair of pink shorts and a white, thin long-sleeve that were basically pyjamas.

Maybe it was weird to think, but you seemed more human.

“You made good timing. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks,” Wonwoo answered while stepping inside, toeing off his sneakers next to your plethora of shoes at the doormat.

“I would obviously say tour first, but I have your Tylenol sitting on the counter over here, for your headache. Can you dry swallow or do you need water?”

“Dry swallow?” Wonwoo laughed, following you toward the kitchen area. “Who the fuck dry swallows any sort of pill?”

“I don’t know! Personally, I don’t. But there are some freaks out there who do. I was actually testing you. And you passed.”

“Lucky me,” he sighed.

Taking a seat at one of stools displayed around the large, granite-surface island, Wonwoo waited for you to pour him some water. Obviously, the apartment was spacious, gorgeous—the large, white-fluffed rug in the centre of the living room was definitely suited to you, though he was surprised by the tall, lush potted plants aligned by the window panelling. He didn’t know you had a green thumb.

While placing down the water, you shifted closely into the seat beside him, and Wonwoo could smell the scent of strawberries on your skin. You let your chin press into the hammock made with your hands, watching as he set the pill on his tongue and gulped it down.

“So, is it really bad?”

Wonwoo turned the glass back and forth atop its coaster, deciding on whether or not he should tell the truth. It always tended to sting him when he lied, and so he turned to you, shrugging.

“I felt it when I woke up. But it’s manageable.”

“Oh, I get that sometimes.”

“It’s because of my repulsive sleep schedule, no doubt.”

You smiled at him, adjusting your leg under the island.

“Is that why you prefer afternoons all the time?”

“Pretty much. It’s a horrible habit. I’ll break it somehow, I’m sure. Just a stupid hump to get over. Anyway—” Wonwoo slung the laptop bag off his shoulder and onto the counter, “—your place looks pretty sweet. How are you? What’s the plan for today?”

“Well,” you hummed, slapping an arm down onto the reflective granite, “I’ve wrote some more this week. I’d love for you to proofread it. Maybe we can go out for lunch later, but you’d need to give me time to get ready. I mean, I did shower this morning…”

He watched you pause, and then swallow. "You don’t care, do you?”

“About what?” Wonwoo answered.

“Oh, well—never mind, then.”

“No, what is it? What don’t I care about?”

You started to grin, hiding half your face with a hand that slowly scraped across your cheek, as though to rub off any remaining lethargy from the morning light. Wonwoo waited for you to answer.

“… I look like a mole.”

He at last realized what you meant.

“No, you don’t.”

“I was just feeling lazy. I know, gasp, what an insane word to come from my mouth. But I’m glad you don’t care. I didn’t think you would, but I still wasn’t sure. At least your reaction wasn’t obvious. My chin is breaking out so please don’t stare at it, if you can help it.”

“Oh, well, you know, you look—” that one banished word almost slipped, but Wonwoo smoothly mended the break, “you—you have nothing to worry about. I get breakouts, too. It sucks, but it’s life.”

Your bare, soft face turned cheerful in a fawning smile.

“I know. I guess I'm just not very used to the feeling of people seeing me like this. Did you want to do lunch later?”

Wonwoo leaned back in the small seat, running his hands up his knees, knowing damn well he hadn’t eaten breakfast.

“Uh, I should probably start with like, cereal or something.”

“You didn’t eat?”

“No appetite.”

“I’ll fix you something. Unfortunately, no cereal. But I'll get some the next time Mingyu and I do groceries. So, what do you like best? Toast? Oatmeal? Scrambled eggs and toast? Orange juice? Bagel?”

At the mere mention of orange juice, his fist clenched. Attempting not to dwell so obviously, Wonwoo straightened up and smiled.

“I like toast.”

“That’s good. It’ll be easy on your stomach.”

Wonwoo watched you squeeze off the stool and open the fridge to pull out a plastic bag of bread. He watched you stand on your tiptoes to reach into the highest cupboard and grab a plate. He watched you pop open a jar of fresh raspberry jam and slot the bread into the toaster. He could watch you do anything, it seemed.

Anything at all.

It took Wonwoo about half an hour to eat his raspberry toast and skim through the newest additions to your document. You were getting more into the thick of your relationship with Mingyu—just as you’d warned—but Wonwoo was able to gloss most cloying paragraphs without too much bitterness or personal weight clouding his possible critiques. Wonwoo was still seated at the island, meanwhile you were lying face down on the plump-cushioned couch, an arm dangling off the side. In a morbid way, you looked very much dead if not for the shallow rising and dipping of your back.

“Done, for the most part.”

Your head perked up, and he was relieved to see you hadn’t fallen asleep or suffocated. “When will you add your notes?”

“After lunch. Is that okay?”

“Mmhm.”

“So…” Wonwoo slid down in the chair, reaching out his arms with a gigantic yawn, “you actually snuck into his basketball game?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, letting your chin snuggle into the blanket strewn underneath you, “I was obsessed with him. I couldn’t help it.”

“I wouldn’t expect your first date to be at the nature museum. The way you wrote about the butterfly exhibit was nice, though.”

“It was fun. Mingyu wasn’t the biggest fan, but I had always wanted to go. There was this huge skeleton of a blue whale, and sometimes the museum would play the whale’s ballad—” you flopped onto your back, staring up at the ceiling with a tender, ardent laugh as your fingers twirled the fluffy knots of the throw, “—it used to scare Mingyu so bad. He kept telling me he was gonna leave our date unless we went to another exhibit.”

“The sound can be pretty jarring if you’ve never heard it before, to be fair,” Wonwoo reasoned, now massaging down his legs.

Shoving your body to sit upright on the couch, you poked out your tongue at him, grinning, “don’t defend his loserness.”

He huffed in response, “my bad.”

“Should we do a tour now? I really want to show you my room. And if I keep lying on the couch, I’ll fall asleep.”

“Uh, sure. Do you want me to wash my plate?”

“No, no, it’s fine. Just leave it in the sink.”

After Wonwoo cleaned off the granite island, he came to join you in the living room, the white rug resembling what he imagined a cloud to feel like underneath his socked feet.

A thought had suddenly popped into his head.

“There’s a nature museum here, too.”

You grabbed the blanket, wearing it like a shawl around your shoulders. Wonwoo had never seen you so sleepy before.

“I know.”

“Have you ever gone?”

“No. Not at all. I did ask Mingyu once when we first came here for university. But I think he was still mortified from the whale thing. I dunno. Anyway, is that your round-about way of asking if I ever want to go? Because I would, to help with the story.”

Wonwoo scratched along his collarbone, heated with the itch of being blatantly exposed for his plotting. However, he hadn’t suggested the museum with the intention of employing it as a visual to sharpen up your scene-work. He was hoping to go just for the sake of it—like a palate cleanser, as you had previously mentioned.

But he obviously wasn’t going to articulate that.

“We can plan it more later,” he said.

The tour started in the living room, which Wonwoo had become well acquainted with throughout his half hour of sitting at the kitchen island, occasionally flicking his eyes toward the couch to ensure you were still alive. You explained that the pristine white rug was a housewarming gift from Mingyu’s parents when you first moved into the apartment, and he felt guilty for even stepping on it.

He decided to ask about the plants by the windows.

“Oh, I don’t actually look after those,” you answered, touching at one of the heavy and balmy-looking green leaves from a plant nearly as tall as you, “Seokmin comes over to water them and stuff, gives them special nutrient food—even sprays their leaves with this misty bottle thing. I tried giving them all to him, but he says he’s got no space at his apartment—which is total bull by the way.”

“Maybe he just wants an excuse to see you.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes, “doesn’t everyone?”

Wonwoo bit back a stupid little smile as he followed you into your bedroom—the place you seemed most enthralled for him to finally see. You twirled into the open space and threw the blanket off your shoulders, then whipping your hands into the air akin to a magician who’d just performed the most grandiose magic trick.

“Tada! Bedroom reveal!”

He pushed up his glasses, taking a good, solid look around at everything he could: the prestigious makeup vanity with the drawers left half-open, your dresser, lined with photographs of what he assumed to be friends, family, and Mingyu, the beaded, dangling chandelier, the ajar closet doors that revealed your unsurprising magnitude of outfits—skirts and dresses and professional blazers and lascivious things from threads of lace and silk. He finally looked to your beautiful bed, which you proceeded to flop onto.

“This is my favourite part,” you hummed.

Taking some further steps into the bedroom, Wonwoo began recognizing smaller details, though he couldn’t explain what he was feeling. He always thought a bedroom was such a personal, intimate space, like a treasure chest stuffed with memories and pieces of person’s essence that couldn’t be captured using words alone. To sit on someone’s bed, or sift through their drawers for a pen, or even grab a shirt from their closet—he felt it was all so… sacred. It was the reason he had such a hard time having others in his bedroom.

“The bed is your favourite?” He wondered.

“Yes,” you giggled, a glimmer flashing into your eyes like diamonds in the sun as you climbed onto your knees.

Before Wonwoo knew what was happening, you had clutched a hand into his shirt and jerked him toward the covers. He landed beside you, and his heart thrust with electricity.

“You could have just asked me to sit,” he chuckled, wiping some wrinkles off his shirt and adjusting his glasses.

“Nope.”

“Bed’s comfy.”

“Duh,” you sunk backward, smirking at him, “it’s a bed.”

“Hey, you should have seen the bed I had growing up in Changwon. My older brother and I, we hated it. Shit was like sleeping on a piece of cardboard. It didn’t get better for years.”

Propping your head onto a pillow, you continued to smile prettily at him with those entrancing eyes, and for a second, this piercing fear struck in the core of Wonwoo’s chest that he had just spoke about himself—actually spoke about himself—in a manner that screamed of vulnerability. He felt terror. Why did he do that?

“Hm. I guess I’m just spoiled, with my memory foam and all.”

At least you didn’t push into the topic. You were getting better at that, almost like you could interpret the subtle tweaks in his face or the stiffening of his bones. Wonwoo rested his elbows on his knees.

“Your room’s nice. It smells like you.”

He heard you giggle, “what? Like strawberries?”

Wonwoo pursed his lip, looked down at his fingers. “Yeah…”

For a moment, his eyes lingered unfaithfully on your exposed midriff, down to the fluffy hem of those pink lounge shorts. He squeezed his wrist tight, practically stopping his own blood flow, willing himself not to think anything unhinged that would simmer up to fuel his self-hatred later. The longer your head spent sinking into that plump pillow, the more your lids fluttered with sleep. As he continued to gaze about the room, he spotted the pink stuffed bear that he’d won you at the Spring Street Fair, sitting atop your bedside table.

“You’ve still got that?”

“Hm?” You pushed up onto your elbows, yawning. “Oh, yeah! ‘Course I still have her. It’s a perfect little memento from that night.”

“Well, I did go through a lot of effort to win it.”

“Oh, I’m aware... wanna know what I named her?”

“What?”

“Miss Priss.”

Honestly, Wonwoo was surprised you hadn’t stuffed it into your closet or abandoned the toy in some innocuous corner of your apartment. Instead the bear’s vibrant pink face and slightly lopsided eyes were staring him down, making him rerun Vernon’s words in his head: ‘you stir the pot every time you hang out with his girl to go write romantic poetry and run around, gigglin’ at Spring Street.’

Wonwoo immediately shoved the memory aside, letting the implications sizzle up and burn on the hot coals of his brain.

“Hm. Funny.”

You rolled your eyes.

Wonwoo tapped his wrist, thinking.

“So, uh, I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but why don’t you live with Mingyu? I know he stays over some nights.”

Lifting yourself up with one arm, you shrugged, opting to stroke a hand along the blanket to smooth out some crinkles. “I don’t want to move in with anyone unless I’m engaged.”

“Actually?”

“Yeah. I mean, that's what I told my parents, at least. They used to really push for us to have an apartment together. Which makes sense. They freaking love him. I swear, more than me," you laughed, picking at your shirt. "I get it, too. Mingyu and I have pretty much been tied at the hip all these years. But we agreed that we wouldn't live together until things went to the next level. He does keep a lot of his stuff here for when he does stay over, and vice versa. He’s got an extra key and everything, his own nightstand, bathroom stuff.”

“And that’s for certain?”

You tilted your head. “What’s for certain?”

“The engagement thing. Or was it just to shake off your parents?”

“Well… I guess I mean it. Is that weird to you?”

“No,” Wonwoo said. “I personally haven't heard it plenty.”

“Yeah, most people are surprised to learn we don’t live together. I guess we really give off the impression that we're together in most things, if not everything. It's good to get a little space, though."

“Well, I understand it—wanting to have your own space. I mean, I think everyone should try living alone, just once if they have to. You learn more about yourself, I suppose.”

You cracked a smile at him. “What have you learned?”

Wonwoo chuckled, knowing all the things he could never say were tingling right on the tip of his tongue. “Well, I meant in a general sense. I wasn't exactly talking about myself.”

“Ha—you learned how to be a hermit.”

“I'm pretty sure I was always like that.”

“Yeah, but probably not that bad.”

“That bad?” He furrowed his dark brows at you, staring straight into your eyes that twinkled with challenge. “Meaning what?”

“Please, you would not leave that apartment if it wasn’t for your commitment to the book. Maybe for work, some groceries every now and then. Otherwise, your ass is not leaving.”

“Damn. Just call me a loser.”

“Fine,” you huffed, pushing up onto your knees, “loser.”

Wonwoo managed to hold the penetrating, spirited strength of your gaze, and he was proud of himself for doing so, even if his heart felt like it was going to leap into his throat. It was still difficult for him to be routinely engaged in eye contact, but he knew how much you appreciated it—the feeling of being listened to and experiencing someone’s dedication to presenting their full attention.

Since it was getting close to lunch time, Wonwoo figured you might want to start thinking of where to eat. He was getting notably hungry, and having to function off some toast coated thinly in raspberry jam wouldn’t be enough to power him throughout his proofreading. He pulled out his phone, wanting to check the time, and began sliding off your comfortable, warm bed.

“Did you want to—”

“Hey, wait, wait, wait—” Wonwoo felt your hand curl around his bicep in a firm grip and begin to pull him back down, “—before we get up and everything, I want to talk to you about something.”

Oh no.

His stomach writhed.

Wonwoo started praying it wasn’t about his and Vernon’s encounter with Mingyu at Solar Pop—not that anything particularly terrible or concerning had happened—but maybe Mingyu had mentioned something to you. Maybe he didn’t like Wonwoo and thought it was best you stop writing together, stop seeing each other.

His mind started quivering with a steadfast hurricane of awful thought and Wonwoo knew the flushed colour had most likely drained from his face as quickly as a popped balloon.

Your hand remained on his bicep, squeezing it.

“Why do you look so worried, already?” You chuckled in a quiet voice, rubbing his arm until Wonwoo visibly relaxed. “I haven’t even said anything yet. Unless, you think I should be worried, too.”

“No.” Wonwoo shook his head. “Just—never mind.”

“Hm, well, that’s kind of what I want to talk about.”

As your hand drifted off his arm, Wonwoo sat crossed-legged, narrowing his eyes at you in question. “What do you mean?”

The conversation began with a clunk of silence, to which you glanced down at the bed for a moment, clearly biting on your inner cheek in contemplation. Wonwoo desperately wanted you to spit it out. He hated when empty words hung so burdensomely in the air.

“Well… there’s no easy way to bring it up. And I’m not sure you’ll even want to talk about it with me, but I keep noticing it, again and again. I think it’s at least worth it to put it on the table. And, if it’s not my business, you can freely tell me to screw off.”

“Oh… okay.”

And then you were looking at him, not with any sort of accusation or anger or even disappointment. Somehow, Wonwoo knew what you were going to say, and he braced himself for it.

“Do you… do you have anxiety?”

Wonwoo said nothing. He wasn’t sure if it was an issue of not wanting to speak or being unable to.

You breathed out heavily in response.

“Okay, silence, I definitely saw that coming—but, um, I’m not stupid, you know? Your face just gets so pale, and I feel like I can see the heartbeat in your chest… and you always do that thing with your fist. Clenching it. It always looks so painful but you never seem to care and—anyway—I just… I can tell when it happens and it kind of bothers me that you try to like, shrug it off or call it ‘spacing out’ when it’s really clearly not. And, maybe that’s my fault.”

His gaze had shifted to lock with yours.

Again, you weren’t staring at him with any malice or dejection—he’d come to learn that your eyes were actually quite soft most of the time, soft but always glittering, like a handful of silk. Still, Wonwoo couldn’t yet find his words, which must have come across as remarkably shocking for someone who spent their whole life grabbing all the shiny bits of possible vernacular.

You sat up straighter, touching his knee.

“Is it my fault you don’t want to talk about it? Can I at least know that much?” There was an imploring desperation in your face.

Wonwoo at last cleared his throat.

“I don’t talk about it with anyone.”

“Okay, I get that. But, did I make you feel like you couldn’t bring it up? At all?” Your fingers dug a little harder into his knee, though Wonwoo knew you probably hadn’t realized it. “I just—I do want to know, actually. Because sometimes I let myself get in the way of being present for other people. But I care. I honestly do.”

He nodded, cracking his knuckles.

“I mean… I definitely wouldn’t have thought to bring it up with you. I guess I felt like, if I did, what would it accomplish? You might think I’m incapable or… I don’t know.” He shoved his hands underneath his glasses, rubbing at the indents on his nose. “As you can see, I’m not the best at talking about it. I don’t talk about it.”

You folded your legs in similar fashion to Wonwoo.

“Well… um… do you… is there anyone that could, like… I don’t know what I’m saying. I guess, are you coping alright, is what I’m asking. I really don’t mean to overstep. I swear.”

At that, he chuckled quite loudly. Your face twitched in surprise at his reaction, and the hand slipped off his knee.

“It really doesn’t matter. I just deal with it.”

No. He took nothing. He did nothing. Wonwoo just sat and suffered and felt no initiative to help himself. At that point, he really didn’t want to dissect the topic any further. He could sense the slithering under his skin, the way his body physically bristled like a perturbed cat at the thought of having to be any more open than what he'd already shared. The choices he made in his life weren’t important if he was going to end up back in the same slippery trench.

“Oh. Well, I hope you take care of yourself,” you said with a smile, giving his bicep another gentle squeeze. “That’s all.”

—JUNE 2ND.

About two weeks had passed since Wonwoo visited your apartment. Afterward, you had met up four times to continue writing and making small ventures to places that you deemed vital for developing your story. Wonwoo found himself enjoying most trips.

He remembered the ice cream shop. Apparently, it was the date where Mingyu had officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You had gotten their most popular strawberry cheesecake flavour while Wonwoo ordered mint chocolate chip, which was a rather boring but favourite classic of his. No doubt, you sat across from him on their outside patio the entire time, pitting remarks about how awful his choice was in lieu of writing anything down in your document. With every spoonful he ate, Wonwoo had to keep reminding you to stay focused, and eventually, his repetitious ordering worked.

"Did you actually come here to get any writing done or did you just want the ice cream? We're not palate-cleansing are we?"

"Why can't two things be true at once?"

“Can I see your laptop?”

“No—hey! Don’t try to grab it!”

“Why? Because you’ve written fuck all?”

"For your information, I have a bullet-point list going."

"Oh, yeah. A bullet-point list, hm?"

"Yes. It has all my major writing points. Point number one: Mingyu seats me down at the table. He's clearly nervous. We've only been in the shop for a minute or two and he won't stop brushing his hair behind his ears. Point number two: Mingyu grabs our ice cream from the counter. He gives me his flavour, rocky road, by accident, and then we awkwardly laugh and switch. Point number three: I remember thinking his nerves were endearing, and—"

"Okay, okay. I get it."

"Exactly. Let this be a lesson in poor assumption. Don't try to assume anything about me, Wonwoo. It's probably wrong."

And then there had been the journey to Mooney’s Bay, one of the most well-known beaches outside the city—probably because the lake actually looked a clean, salty blue and the soft sand wasn’t littered with drifting pieces of plastic. It had been the first place Wonwoo took his brother when he came to visit from his office in Korea, and the picture they had taken together with their pant legs cuffed up, standing knee deep in the water, was still pinned to the corkboard in Wonwoo’s bedroom. However, Wonwoo hadn’t been back to the beach since, until you dragged him there in an hour-long car ride. He had mostly looked out the window, thinking, as always.

You said that Mooney’s Bay reminded you of a cove from your hometown, a more clandestine one, where you and Mingyu used to splash around in the isolated, iridescent waters at night, laughing into the chilled breeze and coughing up all the liquid splatted into the other’s face. Wonwoo had used the video camera to record some footage of the beach per your request. By evening, most people had packed up their coolers and umbrellas and sun towels, granting him more freedom to film wider, panned shots. He remembered standing at the foam shoreline, feeling the sand squelch wetly under his bare feet, recording you wading further and deeper into the water that reflected like a bleeding, scarlet portrait of stained glass.

“It feels amazing! You should come in!”

“I can’t. It’ll ruin the camcorder.”

“So put it down! In the bag! There’s enough footage.”

“But the sun is setting behind you. It makes for a good shot.”

"So just hurry up! The water is the perfect temperature."

"But—"

“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.”

"Well, I don't know... I, uh—I can't swim."

"This isn't swimming, this is wading. Just go up to your knees. It's been a hot, long day. I think this will help get the scowl off your face."

“… Fine. At least give me a second to fix my pants.”

The third location, while not his favourite, had been an open bar that was conveniently placed a few streets over from his job at the pharmacy. Wonwoo had went there a number of times with Vernon in the past, usually after he finished a midterm or handed in some grating assignment, though Vernon tended to drink more than his body could sufficiently handle. By the end of the night, Wonwoo would most often find himself being a mediator between his tattooed, foul-mouthed friend and whatever blundering, equally drunk idiot he happened to be arguing with.

It was too much for his anxiety.

Nonetheless, he’d met you there after work despite the churning cauldron of memories that he harboured, unsurprised to find you seated at a small table swarmed with dewy drinks and shots that interested observers had sent over. Wonwoo felt each digging, plying stare that sculpted against his back as he sat beside you—he even choked down one of your retched tequila shots (while not the best idea), hoping it would mellow him out.

You never really explained why the bar was pertinent to your history with Mingyu—or, maybe you had, and Wonwoo was simply one flaming shot past coherent of properly digesting your words. He did, however, remember your entire, almost scientific explanation of why you liked wearing low-cut or heavily revealing tops at the bar, and Wonwoo had listened along as best he could manage, even when that floating sensation started hazing through his mind. At one point, this girl who Wonwoo had never encountered once in his life came up to him with a polite tap on his shoulder and an inquiring smile.

“Hey—sorry to intrude—and this may be a super dumb question, but you are guys together?”

“No, no. Not at all. I’ve got a boyfriend. He’s single.”

“Oh, perfect. I was just—I was sitting over there, in the corner with my friends, if you can see. Anyways—I said something dumb about how you were really good looking, and now I’ve been dared to come up and ask for your number. So, um, yeah…”

“No, I’m good. Thank you.”

“O-Oh. Wait… are you… being serious?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Sorry. This is really fucking embarrassing… uh, I guess I won’t linger then. Bye.”

“… Jeez… had a bit much to drink or something?”

“No—just don’t like giving out my number to strangers.”

“She was cute, though. Probably a fun one-night stand.”

“Then you have sex with her, yeah?”

“Ha! You’re so funny. When’s the last time you even had sex? I mean, you obviously pull. At least, I think you do…”

“I don’t remember. Months and months ago, I guess.”

“Wow! Zero play. I kind of respect it. I could never, though. So… actually, let me guess: you’re the type of person that can’t have sex without attachment? You need to be in love?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just asking.”

“I don’t know.”

“God. You’re so fucking boring, Wonwoo.”

“Because I don’t go out of my way to find some pretty girl to have sex with every week, I’m boring? How does that make sense?”

“No, not that. I mean the fact you never really want to discuss anything about yourself. Honestly, sometimes talking to you is like pulling teeth, y’know? Anyway, move back a little. Backwards cap with the earrings has been staring on and off for the last ten minutes and I want one more free shot before I call it a night.”

The most recent place you had been together was the popular drive-in at Richmond’s Farm. Wonwoo knew that in the autumn months leading up to Halloween, the venue was turned into a haunted carnival with all the typical attractions: pumpkin patches, horror movie screenings, corn mazes, and masked, fake blood-spattered psychopaths chasing people around with a roaring chainsaw.

Seokmin, despite being quite weak-stomached and completely disastrous when it came to anything horror-related, had actually implored Wonwoo to go the year before after hearing the raves about their newest House of Nightmares, although Wonwoo declined in order to study for a test.

Really, there was no test.

Wonwoo just hadn’t been in the mood for losing all his hair and being crammed into pitch black, narrow corridors with a murderer promptly waiting around the corner. He hoped Seokmin wouldn’t ask him again this year—then his excuse would be obvious.

In the spring and summer, however, the farm mostly broadcast screenings at their drive-in theatre behind the maize field, and you had leaped at the opportunity to go because it was the perfect chance to relive one of your favourite dates with Mingyu. By your explanation, he’d taken you to see Crazy, Stupid, Love before you two had departed your hometown for university. But the drive-in obviously wasn’t playing that movie, and so you two had to settle for watching their only available screening, 500 Days of Summer.

Wonwoo hated that movie.

Of course, he hadn’t told you that.

Before the movie had started, Wonwoo helped you throw down a blanket into your trunk alongside some couch pillows that you grabbed from your apartment, creating a makeshift lounge in the rear of the car. Since the screening was late at night—and way past your typical good girl bedtime—you were worried about falling asleep halfway into the movie, though Wonwoo promised he would keep an eye on you to ensure you wouldn’t miss anything important.

Since it was too dark to film anything of quality on the camcorder, Wonwoo left you alone in the blanket-pillow trunk to scribble down any nostalgic, limerent sentiments while he grabbed some snacks. You had told him to get gummy bears, because you hated the way broken pieces of popcorn kernel shells would sliver between your teeth and dig into your gums, neither did you want a soft drink since it would be an abundance of sugar before bed, and it always resulted in a breakout the next morning. He was able to make it back to the car just before the screening started.

He remembered how strange it all seemed, sitting so close to you underneath the blanket, occasionally feeling your elbow dig into his arm or your knee bump his thigh, and the sharp blip it would cause in his pulse. Wonwoo remembered how often you complained about the temperature throughout the movie—first, it’s too hot, now, it’s too cold, you’re too close to me, you’re too far away and I’m cold again, I need the blanket, I don’t want the blanket—Wonwoo hadn’t realized a person’s body temperature could fluctuate that drastically. 

However, the worst part of that night happened about half an hour before the movie ended, just when Wonwoo was beginning to feel relieved about going home. You were getting sleepier by the minute, and Wonwoo could tell from the yawning every now and then, wanting desperately to rub at your eyes but refusing because it would smother the mascara into somewhat concerning, black whorls.

You had nudged his arm, and when he glanced over at your face, exhausted and half-illuminated under the watery, bright cast of light from the screen, you asked him in a quiet, dulcet voice: “is it okay if I rest my head on your shoulder for a few minutes?”

Wonwoo had wanted to say no—of course you can’t, because if you do, I will sit here stiff, and hardly breathing, and listening only to my own heartbeat. It will be the sole thing I’ll think about for the next three days no matter what I do to mask the memory. I’ll keep thinking about it until you burn out in my mind like a star.

But then Wonwoo had agreed instead.

He proceeded to clench his fist upon feeling the weight of your head sink softly to his shoulder. Your legs had been curled up underneath you, and your knees were then pressing flush against his leg. Every breath he inhaled was faintly tainted with the scent of your sweet, fragrant shampoo and it was fucking killing him.

“You’re so tense,” you had whispered in a giggle, “if it makes you uncomfortable, I don’t have to. It’s just because I’m tired.”

“No—” it had come out somewhat like a blurt, and Wonwoo just knew the tips of his ears were tingling red, “—it’s okay. I promise.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure… what?”

“Just wanted to look in your eyes when you said it.”

“Fuck, not that again.”

“I have to know!”

“Okay, that’s fine. Movie’s almost over, anyway. Just don’t fall asleep because then I really won’t know what to do.”

That had been four days ago.

Now, it was almost midnight. Wonwoo was sitting on the roof of his apartment with a messily rolled up blunt in his fingers—the second one he prepared, mostly out of impatience—drawing in a slow and deep breath that ghosted from his lips like wispy fog flowing down a shallow hill. He then coughed twice by his elbow, attempting to clear the stinging prickle that caught against his throat.

“You’re so fucking full of it,” Wonwoo laughed.

“No! I’m not.”

“You did not write thirty pages in a day.”

“Uh—actually, I did! And the fact you don’t believe me is a testament to your own wilted motivation. I am very motivated.”

He smiled at the sound of your voice crackling through his phone, which he’d been holding with the latter hand. Breathing in another hit, Wonwoo pulled at the sides of his black beanie, grinning through the thin cloud that was exhaled in a quick, neat puff.

“Okay, you wrote thirty pages. Didn’t have to fucking drag my career through the mud in doing so. I mean, I guess it’s a hobby.”

“For all I know, you’re the biggest poser that ever posed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I still don’t know what you write about.”

“I told you.”

“No—you fucking didn’t. You said something vague and ambiguous that could have meant literally anything. All I had to go off were some sing-songy praises from Seokmin.”

“I give you pretty good notes, though.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“So I must be decent.”

“I don’t even know why I bothered calling you. I was supposed to be in bed, like, an hour ago. You’re such a distraction.”

“Fuck,” Wonwoo laughed, tapping the warm blunt to knock off a clump of papery ash, “it’s been an hour already?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t know why you called either.”

“To complain about that lady whose makeup I had to do today! She was horrible. God, were you not listening?!”

“No, no, I was. She told you the makeup she wanted, you said it wouldn’t suit her too well, and then she got all pissed off when it looked exactly how you said it would. That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh. Well… I just thought you should know about it.”

“Mmhm.”

Silence followed his velvet, almost teasing hum, but Wonwoo didn’t mind it, and he assumed you didn’t either. Your phone call had been completely out of the blue, only a few minutes after he’d climbed onto the roof and started sparking his lighter. An hour had already passed—Wonwoo couldn’t believe it. Time had never seemed so blurred and insignificant before, like tomorrow didn’t exist at all.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

Wonwoo repositioned the phone in his hand.

“From time to time, yeah.”

“What strain?”

“Northern Lights.”

“I’ve never had that one. I mean, I’m not much of a stoner, and neither is Mingyu. I don’t like the way it feels in my throat—that dry, burning feeling. And I hate the cotton mouth afterward.”

“Shouldn’t be that bad if you’re inhaling it right.”

“Well, maybe you can teach me one day.”

He let the blunt hang from the corner of his mouth for a moment, a very fluttery-feeling smile taking shape. Not wanting you to hear that slight bit of giddiness in his tone, Wonwoo took another hit, holding the smoke in for longer than usual before exhaling.

“Do you, uh… do you still want to go to that museum?”

“Oh—the nature museum?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll have to do some poking around in my schedule. I have this stupid leadership council meeting for SSA that I have to go to.”

“That’s fine. Text me when you figure it out.”

“Okay… gosh, it’s really fucking late.”

“Yeah, you should get some sleep.”

“Are you pushing me off the phone? If anything, I should be the one pushing. You’re not doing anything to fix your terrible sleep schedule. And I certainly don’t want you to ruin mine.”

“That’s what I’m saying—you need to get some sleep.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“How did I say it?”

“Like you were pushing me off the phone!”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. How ‘bout this: I know how important structure is to you, and I am deeply concerned that this late night conversation we’re having may somewhat affect your sleep. And while I’ve thoroughly enjoyed talking to you and hearing your pretty voice through my shitty phone speaker, I think we should both go to bed.”

“That seems fair.”

“Great. So, goodnight then.”

“No! I want to be the first one to say goodnight.”

“Why?”

“Because, I say goodnight, then you say goodnight back, and then I get to be the one who hangs up first. It’s a courtesy thing.”

“Uh, okay then... I’m listening.”

“Goodnight!”

Wonwoo smiled. He smiled so fucking widely and brightly that he could feel the muscles in his face aching.

“Goodnight.”

—JUNE 7TH.

Since the quickest route to the nature museum was about half an hour from Wonwoo’s apartment, he suggested that you stop by around lunch time so that you two could make the walk together. It wasn’t too warm outside—the large smattering of clouds dotted in the sky and the typical city breeze helped to keep the temperature down.

“We’re not allowed to film in the museum,” you said from your seat at his small dinner table, “so don’t bother taking the camcorder, I guess. I’ll just try to soak up everything as best I can.”

Wonwoo was sat across from you, waiting for you to finish the heated-up carton box of creamy mushroom pasta that you’d raided out his freezer. He’d tried his best to eat beforehand as well, but the most he could stomach was some milk and cereal in addition a handful of blueberries. It was still better than his usual routine, which involved skipping any sort of meal post lunchtime.

“If you really needed to, I’m sure you could take a couple pictures,” Wonwoo answered, brushing a hand through his styled, pristine black hair that you had earlier littered with a flustering spiel of compliments. “I doubt the exhibits will be exactly the same, but if it's more so to capture the feeling, then it won’t matter much.”

You patted the corner of your mouth upon finishing the last few noodles left in the box, nodding your head in agreement.

“My journal’s in my bag. It should be fine.”

Wonwoo flipped over his phone to check the time.

“How was the SSA meeting yesterday?”

“Oh—I didn’t go.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asked while settling back in his chair, watching you toss the fork into the carton. “How come?”

“Because, it’s mostly pointless. We always sit there, in front of all those old, crusty men, trying to explain to them how we can improve the campus, the student experience, blah blah. And they act like they’re legitimately consuming our input, using phrases like: ‘oh, we hear you, we understand, we’re gonna try our hardest’—just for them to put, what? Another fucking seating area in the dining hall that no one asked for or cares about? It’s totally ridiculous.”

“Hm, yeah.”

“Anyways, I hate being on it. I hate going. I understand it looks good and whatnot, but it’s a huge waste of my time.”

Wonwoo picked up the pasta box, continuing to hum his agreement while taking it into the kitchen. He dropped the fork into the sink and folded up the cardboard to stuff into his recycling.

“It’s one meeting. A skip won’t kill you, or them.”

“That’s what I’m saying. Mingyu thinks I went, though. So, if you run into him or something and the topic fucking miraculously pops up—just don’t give anything away. It’s a little white lie.”

Coming back to the dining table, Wonwoo snatched up his wallet and shoved it into his back pocket, raising an eyebrow.

“Why wouldn’t you tell him?”

You pushed back in the chair, sighing heavily.

“He really thinks I should stick with it.”

Wonwoo didn’t say anything in response. He simply nodded, not wanting to hover on Mingyu as a conversation piece for too long, and waited for you to shoulder on your purse.

“Okay,” you then smiled, “let’s go look at some nature.”

Despite their boring, lacklustre reputation, Wonwoo had always enjoyed going to museums—art, history, science—he’d even been to a museum that delved into ancient coin minting and the development of currency. He supposed it was his appreciation for learning new information of his own free will, unlike the fast-paced, passion-draining, wringer system that was university. Furthermore, he was surprised that you would share his interest in the matter.

“Why wouldn’t I like museums?” You had stopped just before the acclaimed beetle species wall, aglow behind a glass sheet. “I wrote in my draft that Mingyu and I went to a nature museum, remember?”

“I know. I’m just surprised you have that much of an interest in them. Your life seems so upbeat. I didn’t think you would be into something that most people find fairly dry and anticlimactic.”

“Right.” Twirling back around, you continued walking down the corridor, your eyes tracing the organized arrangement of lustre-shelled beetles. “Because everyone else is too stupid and you’re the true upper echelon who actually possesses the mental capability required to appreciate something as seemingly trivial but totally enriching as…” you then paused at the glass, squinting to read the embossed label below an oblong-shaped beetle with an iridescent green shell, “… as the Chrysochroa Fulgidissima? I don’t know, something like that—also known as the Jewel Beetle. Its species is native to Japan and Korea. It’s a… woodboring beetle?”

“Why would I know?” Wonwoo laughed, coming to stand beside you and look at the plaque settled to the white background behind the display glass. “You’re the one reading it.”

“Ugh—doesn’t matter. I was going somewhere with my speech and now I forget… oh, yeah! So, you think you’re smarter than me?”

Placing a gentle hand on your lower back, Wonwoo urged you to keep walking forward in order to let the people faintly mumbling behind you examine the wall, who seemed much more interested.

“I never said that,” he answered softly.

“Okay—but, do you think you’re smarter?”

“In what sense?”

“Did you take the Frontiers evaluation for calculus?”

“Yes.”

“What’d you score?”

“9.8.”

“Shut the fuck up! No you didn’t.”

Wonwoo merely tapped the black-framed glasses further up his nose, smirking slightly, and began shaking his head while continuing down the exhibit. You hurried after him, remembering to lower your voice to match the collective quietness.

“Prove it,” you whispered.

“Go to prof Bradbrook’s office. My name’s on her wall.”

“I hate you.”

“Why? What did you score?”

“I’m obviously not going to say it now.”

Wonwoo still remembered the day his test score came back—he’d opened the envelope in Miss Bradbrook’s office, and while she sat across from him, practically squirming and jittering with anticipation, Wonwoo had glossed over the paper slip with the smallest, most low effort smile. He knew he was supposed to feel relieved in that moment—overjoyed probably—to realize his notable success and the upstanding conformation he was legitimately good at something. But in truth, he hadn’t really felt anything at all. He sort of just smiled. That was it. That was all he could muster.

And his life had mirrored that moment ever since. In the past, it would come and go. Yet, that day, it just stuck. The only time he ever experienced any glint or sparkle of happiness, it had come from his girlfriend—but even she couldn’t imbue much from him that day.

“Well, that’s not what I expected you to ask.”

You glanced over at him, adjusting the bag on your arm.

“Meaning?”

“There are different types of intelligence. I thought you meant, in a more general sense, am I smarter, or more knowledgeable. To be honest, I can’t say. I mean, I feel like I’ve experienced and seen a whole lot, but that’s just life’s illusion.”

“You won’t really know ‘til you’re on your death bed.”

Wonwoo returned your glance, squinching his brown eyes in a judgemental but innocuous way that gave bloom to his smile.

“Thanks.”

“I can’t help it. Museums make me think of death. I think it’s the really cold, still air. Especially in nature museums where they need to preserve things. Like, look at that fox. It’s a bit ominous.”

On the exhibit to his right, Wonwoo observed another display protected by glass. There was a fox, with a rusty, auburn coloured coat, poised atop a fake precipice of grass. Wonwoo knew what you meant—it was the eyes, like two leaf green beads, so immensely detailed but lifeless to an almost uncomfortable degree.

“I want to see the aquarium exhibit next,” you said, tugging twice at Wonwoo’s sleeve. “I heard it’s really dark in there.”

“Well, we can go take a look.”

“And we can eat afterward? There’s an atrium.”

“Sure.”

Wonwoo let your arm link with his, following the natural flow of museum-goers into the next exhibit, leaving behind the shiny, colourful wall of beetles and the auburn fox in its lonesome enclosure.

The aquarium exhibit was one of the most spacious in the entire museum, placed in a large, dome-topped room, with shadows creeping at every corner. There were some lights—deep, blue lights that rippled and wriggled across the floor, like waves patterned against ocean sand by the sun rays. He didn't know from where, but he could hear water sloshing, a very soft sound that led him to imagine the wet sand squelching under his toes.

You approached another display wall, filled with a school of lemon-yellow and azure coloured fish placed around vibrant, unique corals.

While you busied yourself with reading the informative plaque, Wonwoo spent his time taking a more in-depth inspection around the mystifying exhibit. He noted the stingrays and luminous jellyfish flocking above his head, held on near-invisible little wires that would occasionally glimmer if they twisted the perfect angle.

After a generously long venture throughout the room, reading all the plaques and pointing to different fish behind the glass just to comment, “I think that was in Finding Nemo,” you had wanted to sit down, spotting a bench positioned before an aquarium.

Wonwoo agreed, and you collapsed on the bench together.

There was a period of comfortable silence where you both watched the aquarium, meanwhile the dappling, blue pattern cast to the floor danced and flickered around at your still feet. The atmosphere seemed so vivid that Wonwoo was surprised the next breath he took wasn’t a mouthful of liquid and sea salt, or that his body wasn’t miraculously suspended and floating about in the echoey shadows.

And that’s when Wonwoo decided he liked the aquatic exhibit very much—more than all the others.

He looked down at the hands folded in his lap, specifically at the scarred, ruined cuticle belonging to his right thumb and how it had withstood years of his anxious scratching. Wonwoo then breathed out softly, feeling his heartbeat begin to pick up.

“Want to know something?” He asked.

You stared back at Wonwoo with an intrigued pique of your brow.

“Like what?”

“Well, first of all, we both took creative writing, you know.”

"Uh, okay," you sniffed, "sure."

"No, like, we took the course together. In the fall. Prof T?"

"Really?" You pinned him down in a non-believing stare. "Wait, you're talking about that basement auditorium, right? In Gildan Hall? It always smelt like old computers and dust bunnies?"

"That's the one."

Scoffing out some dry air, you leaned back.

"Woah. I don't think I ever saw you... did you go to each class?"

He nodded a few times. "Almost all. To be fair, I sat more in the back, off to the corner. I wasn't exactly thrusting myself into the limelight."

Folding one leg over your knee, you chuckled. "Sounds like you."

“I have this really specific memory from that class, when that random guy, whoever he was, sat in the seat you always took. Your so called unofficially-assigned-assigned-seat. And I remember that really tense feeling right before you walked in, because we all knew you were gonna chew him out for it. The way you marched straight up to him was already violating enough, and then you basically ruined his whole day.” Looking down at his hands again, Wonwoo smiled at recalling the memory. “You absolutely terrified me. I don’t even think you understand how much I wanted to avoid you.”

He caught your eyes, shimmering like the water-stained floor, with an emotion he couldn’t place.

“Actually?” Was all you said, hardly sounding surprised.

“Yeah.”

Your face began searching around the shadowed, sloshing exhibit for something unseen. He decided to let the silence settle like a thin sheet, instead listening to the tidal pushing and pulling. The soft sounds reminded him of being a child, wandering beaches into the late evening with his older brother during summer vacations, and picking up shells just to hear the ocean speaking inside them.

Aloud, you breathed in, shaking your foot.

“I can’t really remember what was going through my head that day. I know I’d had a fight with Mingyu before going to class, so I was feeling pretty amped up and short-fused. I knew I was going straight to another SSA meeting that I hardly cared about immediately after, and then I would work until the evening. I knew I would have to make dinner when I got home, even though I’d be downright exhausted, and the next morning, I’d have to wake up early to attend some bullshit press, social, interview breakfast thing for my mom’s new lifestyle magazine. Having that idiot sit in my favourite seat was probably just the straw that broke the camel’s back, I guess.”

“Hm,” Wonwoo hummed, suddenly experiencing a profound sympathy for you that he never imagined he would feel. “When you give it a bit more perspective, it doesn’t sound so…”

“Completely and utterly bitchy?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to use that word, but, sure.”

You grinned at him through the dusky rippling of auroras that flitted across the exhibit, seeming like you were under the sea—and he was, too, sitting side by side in the somehow peaceful depths of the chaotic whirlpool that had pulled you two together.

“I have a memory.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo returned your grin, “I want to hear it.”

“So, remember earlier how we were talking about the Frontiers evaluation for Bradbrook’s calculus class?”

“Mmhm.”

"So, after all the Frontiers scores came out, I'm not gonna lie—I really thought I had one of the better marks. It's not like I specifically trotted around, throwing out my grade to anyone passing by, but I was parading a little bit to my friends. And then, like, Clara or something, told me that there was this guy who almost got a ten. I asked her who, and she said she didn't know—just that she overheard some of the basketball guys talking about it.

I thought she was lying. I didn't say that, though. But I remember it was on my mind every night. Like, it was itching me so bad. I wanted to know who the fuck was smart enough to get a damn near perfect ten on Frontiers. Some of those problems are ridiculously hard. I started writing nonsense around A-block. They straight up give students problems that serious, esteemed mathematicians can't fucking solve. So, honestly... I was quite jealous of you... despite not even knowing who you were. I can't believe that was you, asshole."

Wonwoo cracked his knuckles, beginning to laugh at that intense but lighthearted glare you were sending his way. Of course, you mellowed everything out with a big smile he felt his heart skip a beat over. You had actually went to bed thinking about him.

Holy fuck.

Maybe not him in physicality. But in spirit.

That was close enough.

"I just did the study guide." He shrugged.

Your knee pushed into his. "Oh, yeah, the study guide. Jeez, why didn't I think of doing that? Let me go kill myself right now."

"Keep tabs on it for next time."

With a roll of the eyes, you laughed almost to scorn him.

“I hate people like you.”

And Wonwoo laughed back. “Meaning?”

“Things come to you so naturally. You don’t have to try.”

“Sure,” Wonwoo agreed, scratching his nose and proceeding to nudge up his glasses, “things like mathematics, numbers, problem solving, taking something whole apart and then looking at its pieces. I guess it does come to me naturally. I can’t complain. But there are also plenty of things that don’t. And… if I could, I’d probably trade all my stupid math and logic and puzzling for what I’m missing.”

You tilted your head, staring intently at Wonwoo through the blue sea between you, almost into his brain, it felt like.

“What are you missing?”

At first, Wonwoo didn’t respond. To answer your question meant an intimate exhumation of the flaws that he’d been willfully ignoring for the past year, if not his entire damn life. It meant at last turning over the round, flat rock that had been sitting at the foot of his wooden porch since childhood, and realizing the bottom was sculpted with the grittiest texture and wet with the thickest dirt. The rock was hiding long-legged spiders and ugly, skittering bugs and it would have probably been better to let the rock sit there, untouched, only facing the warm and comfortable glow of the sun.

Wonwoo didn’t want to turn the rock.

Not at all.

“A plethora of things, I’m sure.”

Squeezing onto your wrist, you smiled at him.

“I think I’m the opposite.”

“How so?”

He watched you inhale a long, slow breath, and then huff it all out through your nose. Wonwoo bumped his knee against yours.

“You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”

“No, no. It’s not like that…”

Looking up to the glowing aquarium, the dull light reflected back unto your face, and Wonwoo again saw the glisten in your eyes.

“I just feel…” for a moment, your chest stilled, “… I feel like I’m so much of everything that I just blend into nothing. You know, like when a child takes a whole bunch of paints and squirts them all together thinking it’s going to create this beautiful, never-before-seen new colour? But, instead, it’s just greyish-brownish, nothing.”

Your face turned back to him. Wonwoo watched you chew down on your bottom lip, meanwhile your eyes glazed aloof, off to the side, as though you were rummaging through so many different thoughts and experiences that it required your utmost mental focus.

“And—” you swallowed tightly, and it sounded so painfully dry with stinging emotion, “—I just don’t want people to see that I’m so much of nothing. I just find myself covering it all up.”

Were you going to cry? Wonwoo felt himself jolt inwardly with panic. He had never seen you cry and he had therefore never developed the best protocol to tackle such a situation. Some people preferred immediate comfort, others—a reassuring stroke on the back, maybe some uplifting monologue. Or, maybe, they didn’t want to be touched at all. They just desired the simple, thinking silence and all its clarity. He remembered you saying something about it—that you did like to be comforted, but only in very certain circumstances.

First, Wonwoo subtly wiped off his hand against his thigh, and then he took in the softest breath. Through the flickering, midnight blue mirage, Wonwoo reached for your hand. He settled his cold fingers inch by inch under yours, and, with a timid but gentle thumb, Wonwoo caressed in a slow path along your knuckles.

You glanced to him appreciatively, saying nothing, but squeezing his hand in return. He figured he’d done right.

Maybe more things came to him naturally than he thought.

Before leaving the nature museum, you and Wonwoo had stopped at their atrium as promised to get in a quick meal. While you poked a fork into your sad-looking salad, making small scribbles every now and then to the journal at your elbow, Wonwoo ate a grill-pressed sandwich and flicked through his phone. He was surprised to check the time and realize you had spent about three hours there—it felt so much shorter. Wonwoo hated how quickly each moment flew past when he was with you. It was always so bittersweet.

He had wanted to know what exactly you were penciling in the journal, though he never asked, knowing he would probably be proofreading it from your document later. Obviously, you were thinking about that particular date with Mingyu from years back in your life—that was the principal point in going to the museum. However, Wonwoo had chosen to regard it more as hanging out, not caring if that was a particularly delusional or untruthful choice.

After finishing your meals and tossing the plastic remnants into the recycling bins, Wonwoo looked outside the atrium’s towering glass wall to note how cloudy the sky had become. From the bright, eggshell turquoise in the afternoon, to an especially muted grey that seemed brewing and heavy with a downpour. You adjusted the bag over your shoulder and suddenly grimaced at the sight.

“Jeez, is it going to rain?”

“It could,” Wonwoo sighed. “It very possibly could.”

“I swear. I obsessively check the forecast in order to plan all my outfits around it. It never said it would rain!” You then threw the bottle of iced tea you’d been drinking into the garbage with an aggressive slam. “This shirt is a horrible choice. It will be stupidly see-through."

Wonwoo glanced around the atrium.

“There’s lots of empty tables. If we want to sit and wait it out, then I don’t think anyone would get mad. But, I mean, it’s up to you.”

“Why’s it up to me?”

“I don’t know. Just—if you don’t want to get your outfit all soaked. I’m sure if we left now, we could make good distance before it really started raining. I’m not opposed to getting a little wet. But I have no issue with staying here and letting the clouds go over.”

You folded your arms, and your head fell to the side. He’d seen that look before. It was your own patented prelude to disaster.

“I never said I was opposed to getting wet.”

He laughed. “Well, you certainly insinuated it.”

“Do you think I'm some sort of whiny little priss?”

"I think you named your bear Miss Priss."

"I think you're a smart ass. Take that smirk off your face. Now."

Wonwoo wanted to sigh, but he didn’t. He then thought about trying to tenderly explain his way out of it with his smooth words. As much as he would think he’d figured you out, there was still a part of him that was very confused by you and how to adjust to your behaviour.

This time, he decided he would do nothing.

“Okay. Let’s go, then.”

He reached out his hand for you to grab.

“As if,” you scoffed, walking around him toward the exit doorway, into the museum garden, “not after you just insulted me.”

Wonwoo could do nothing but laugh in response, because he had caught that faint smile on your face as you passed him, and the sweet beading in your eyes. He simply followed you out the doors.

During the walk back to his apartment, it had yet to rain at all, not even a typical, humid summer drizzle or the smallest bit of spitting. Maybe it was just way more cloudy than usual, or it was a concerning spread of city smog tainting the sky. It’s not like he wanted it to rain, anyway, though more so for your sake than his.

About a little more than halfway through the walk, however, you came to an abrupt stop outside a flower shop, and Wonwoo watched you lift a doubtful hand to your cheek and wipe something off it. Before you could say anything, Wonwoo felt a big, cold, wet drop smack just above his eyebrow and begin leaking down. He used the sleeve of his shirt to clean it up, only to experience another fat droplet strike a second later, right onto his glasses.

“You can’t be serious…” he heard you mumble.

Making the mistake of looking up, more and more droplets fell swiftly from the daunting, dark grey blanket strewn across the entire skylight. They began painting all over the sidewalk, the roadway, shaking down into the brilliant purple and white petunia pots outside the florist shop. And Wonwoo froze for a moment, because he honestly hadn’t expected to be caught in the rain, let alone the downpour it was unfortunately shaping up to be.

“Ow!” You winced sharply. “One just fucking hit my eyeball!”

“Shit—let’s hurry.” Wonwoo hid his phone. “My apartment’s only like, ten minutes away, less if we run really fast.”

“Run?!” You gawked at him. “I don’t run!”

“No, you fucking sashay, I get it.” In a matter of seconds, those intermittent raindrops had evolved into an unrelenting, bathing barrage. Wonwoo could feel his clothes beginning to dampen, and his glasses were streaming with water. He slapped his hand onto yours, jerking you forward despite your stiltedness. “And I’m so sorry but you’re going to have to sacrifice one part of your pretty fucking princess routine for just five minutes so we can get back to my place.”

“My pretty fucking wha—!”

Once Wonwoo’s fingers were clasped tight with yours, he started to run, and whether it was voluntary or not, you ran along with him, shouting something that he couldn’t quite hear over the rain that bounced in loud splatters against the sidewalk and the adrenaline echoing in his own ears. He could hardly see through the downpour, but he’d walked that path so many times that it almost wasn’t necessary. At one point, he’d stepped onto the street prematurely, and he heard the loud, startled honk from a car.

“Jesus Christ, Wonwoo!” You half-laughed, half-coughed, clutching onto his slippery hand even tighter, “I’d ideally like to live!”

“We’re almost there!” He chuckled back.

“I think I’m going to lose my fucking shoe!”

“I’ll buy you a new pair!”

Wonwoo didn’t stop, and you didn’t either. He was soaked to his bones, with thick, drizzling fronds of hair plastered to his forehead and the glasses nearly slipping from his nose—the scent of earthy but ashen rain all around him—and still Wonwoo kept running, a very blithe smile permanent to his mouth despite all his discomfort.

Upon reaching the entryway to the pottery shop, Wonwoo almost skidded completely past it since the sidewalk was so slick and pouring like an angry river. You slammed into his back, and it was then that your hands unintentionally separated. Instead, he felt your fingers flesh into the sopping cloth covering his shoulders.

“Be careful on the steps!” He shouted overtop a reverberating crack of thunder that shook from behind the grey sleet sky.

“If I slip, I’m pulling you down with me!”

Wonwoo was pleased to hear the equally bright smile that bled into your words, meanwhile your fingertips dug even deeper into his muscle. Once inside the shop, a gust of wind proceeded to blow the door shut, and all Wonwoo heard was hard rain against the glass.

—END OF PART TWO.

[lustfulslxt]

can you make a fic where reader has a secret tumblr account and she’s a pretty popular writer for the sturniolo fandom (matt fics only). she also happens to be dating mr matthew 🤭🤭🤭

anyway she gets a shit ton of reqs from an account (u can pick the username lol) and PPL EAT THEM UPPP they’re dirty filthy naughty requests. one day she’s on matt’s phone and sees the tumblr app and confronts him ab it and they both figure out the other one’s lil secret 🤭

Mr. Wrinkleton - Matt Sturniolo

warnings : freaky freaky freaky

—

Looking through my recent activity, I can't help the wide smile that covers my face. Writing on Tumblr has honestly been so fun and exhilarating. I'm only in the Sturniolo fandom, specifically for Matthew, my boyfriend. I came across this app while I was scrolling through comments on TikTok. Just from the way people were talking about it, I knew it was a NSFW type of ordeal.  Me being me, I was quick to download it. Let's just say, I do not regret it.

After a couple of weeks of browsing through the Sturniolo hashtag, I decided to go ahead and write something of my own. Simply to say, people ate it up. I find joy in writing half imaginative, half true experiences with my boyfriend, and the love I get makes me proud. Nobody knows Matt and I are together, and even if they did, my account is completely anonymous. I would be mortified if it somehow got out. Matt would probably think I'm a freak, and not a good one.

I have a few 'fans' on my account, some that request a lot of fanfictions. There's one in particular that I love, Mr.Wrinkleton. They send in so many good requests, ones that I love fulfilling. They have a very peculiar imagination, some things I'd love to try with Matt, and some I have tried with him. Thinking back on those moments brings a smile to my lips, those were great nights.

As I lay sprawled out on the bed, Matt sits at his desk, buried in his PC, playing the game with his brothers. He has his headset on, so loud that I can hear the commotion from across the room. Saying that, he can't hear my continuous giggling. Tumblr has definitely become my favorite app, my guilty pleasure.

Setting my phone aside, I saunter over to my boyfriend, placing my hands on his shoulders. He slightly jumps, removing his headset from one ear and shooting me a quick glance before directing his eyes back to the screen in front of him.

"What's up, baby?" He asks, his attention solely on the game. "You good?"

I chuckle, shaking my head. "Yeah, I'm fine."

I plant a short kiss on his cheek, rubbing his chin a bit, and walk towards the bedroom door. With my hand on the doorknob, I turn back to him just before he places his headset back over his ear.

"Do you want anything from the kitchen?" I ask him.

"What?" He asks, only shooting me another quick glance. A second later, he's yelling at the game. "Bro, you're trash! That was such an easy kill!"

Simply rolling my eyes, I walk out the room. As I walk down the hall, I can hear Matt calling for me, but I just head into the kitchen to grab something to drink. I grab me a bottle of water and Matt a can of root beer before making my way back to the bedroom. I walk in, softly shutting the door, and place the can of soda in front of Matt. I'm about to head back to the bed when his hand catches my wrist, halting me in place.

"Thank you, gorgeous." He says, kissing my hand. "Sorry, I'm super invested in this. We're doing so good right now."

"It's all good." I say, placing a kiss on his head, then make my way back to the comfort of our sheets.

As I lay back down, ready to pick my phone up and continue with my naughty secrets, Matt's phone, on the nightstand table beside me, flashes with a couple of notifications.

"Matt, your phone." I say, only to be ignored. "Matt?"

He doesn't budge, so I pick his phone up to give to him, only to freeze when I see the icon on his screen. I know that icon all too well. There's absolutely no way, I must be seeing things. I dramatically wipe my eyes, glancing back on the glowing screen. It's definitely the same. I unlock his phone and read the notification.

Tumblr @flowerxbunnie liked your post: "wow."

My jaw drops, shock evident on my face. Without a second thought, I click the notification. Once it loads, my jaw drops even more. It's one of the fanfictions I wrote. I'm so confused. Matt has a Tumblr account? There's no way. I hesitantly click on his profile, and if it were possible, my jaw would quite literally be on the floor.

Mr.Wrinkleton.

Is this real life? Am I imagining things? Have I been spending too much time on Tumblr? I close the app and it's still there. I open the app, going back to his profile, and it's still there. Matt is Mr.Wrinkleton. Matt's been sending me dirty requests to write fanfiction about him.

Before I can even stop myself, I'm shrieking, "Matt!"

His head snaps to me, confusion ridden on his face. He takes his headset off and turns towards me.

"What's wrong?"

I can't even form words, so I hold his phone out. He sets his headset down and walks over to me, completely unaware of why I screamed his name. Once he grabs his phone and glances at the screen, every ounce of color drains from his face. His eyes are wide as he stares down at the opened app on his phone.

He looks up at me, his mouth formed into an 'O' shape. "Oh my god. Uh-"

"You have a Tumblr account." I state, as if we haven't established that.

"You weren't supposed to see that." He cringes, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. "Did you read any of that?"

"I didn't have to." I say, because I already knew.

That's when I start hysterically laughing. What are the odds? His face suddenly flushes with a deep red color, his eyes still wide, only now from embarrassment. I can't even form any words because of how hard I'm laughing. I just pick up my phone and open my Tumblr app, handing it to him. His eyes read over the screen, before his head snaps over to me and his mouth is wide open again.

"Are you serious?" He asks, "Am I being pranked right now?"

"Matthew!" I laugh, "You're such a freak!"

Getting over the initial shock, he's now laughing with me. "I'm the freak?! You're the one writing everyone's dirtiest fantasies!"

"Everyone -- including you!" I tease, my laughter growing more.

He nudges my shoulder, his face still beet red, "Shut up!"

Once my giggling subsides, I pull him into me. "So, you like that stuff?"

He swallows, whispering, "Yes."

"Which one's your favorite?" I ask him, my tone soft and sultry.

He shakes his head, an embarrassed smile pulling to his lips. "You're gonna laugh at me."

I pull him onto the bed with me, us sitting side by side. I shake my head, "I would never." Receiving a pointed look from him, that causes me to laugh again, I continue, "Okay, that was different. I just never expected that. But I would never laugh at your fantasies. From what you've requested, they're pretty hot."

He bites his lips, looking down at me, his voice low and husky as he speaks, "Um, that so called witchcraft."

My mouth fell open, surprise taking over my features. I can feel the desire growing between my legs. I love that story, specifically that detail. A sly smirk pulls to my lips as I stare at him. I can tell by the cheeky grin on his face that he can read it all over me, I want to recreate it. He nods his head, beckoning me over to him.

"What about your game?" I ask, standing in between his legs.

"What about it? It'll be there tomorrow." He mutters, running his hands up my shirt.

His cold fingertips trail over my skin, causing me to shiver. He holds my shirt up, peppering soft kisses along my stomach, his tongue trailing in between his lips. His hands run along my back, easily finding the clasp to my bra and unbuckling it. In one swift motion, he pulls my shirt over my head and lets my bra slide down my arms, onto the floor. The cool air hits my nipples, hardening them instantly.

"Such perfect tits." He mumbles, taking them in his hands, massaging them.

"Love your hands on me, baby." I softly moan, indulging in the way he touches me so effortlessly.

He continues groping my boobs and begins kissing all over my stomach, and up my chest. He sticks his tongue out and drags it between the valley of my breasts, causing me to pull my bottom lip between my teeth to minimize the noises threatening to escape. My hands tangle in his hair, softly tugging every so often.

"You don't understand the power you have over me." He groans against my skin, his hands gliding down my body. "Every little thing you do drives me absolutely insane."

A soft moan leaves my mouth at his words. His hands go around to my ass, squeezing my cheeks through my shorts, massaging them in circles. He grabs the waistband of my bottoms and swiftly pulls them down, leaving me in nothing but my panties. His hands trail up my legs, rubbing them from the outside in. The closer he gets to my core, the more desperate I become. The outside of his hand firmly presses against my clothed center as he grazes along my thigh, and I'm suddenly very aware of the damp patch in the cotton fabric.

"Always so easy to get you going." He says, his voice holding a rasp to it.

All that leaves my mouth are small, breathy moans as he continues putting pressure right where I need him. He suddenly stands up, now towering over me. One of his hands wrap around my throat, his other hand full of ass, and he yanks me into him. His lips slam against mine in a hot and needy kiss. Our teeth clash as our lips surround one another, then he shoves his tongue in my mouth, exploring every nook and cranny.

It's always so easy to get lost in his kiss. He never fails to make me feel like I'm floating on clouds, whether it be soft and delicate or wet and sloppy, like right now. It's as if he's sucking my breath from me, and I'm left in a hazy daze, high from the feeling he bestows upon me. Time seems to be standing still around us. After a moment, he pulls away, both of us breathless, strings of saliva connecting our mouths.

"God, I can't wait to make a mess of you." He whispers, his warm breath fanning my face.

He plants a few more kisses on my lips, pulling away to remove his shirt. I gently tug on the waistband of his sweats, indicating I want them off, to which he obliges and strips from them. His hand comes to my face, connecting our mouths once again, his other hand guiding me onto the bed, never breaking our kiss once. He straddles my legs; I can feel his hard on pressing into me. There's only two layers of clothing preventing us from succumbing to our needs, and I know it's only a matter of time before they're lying on the floor with the rest of the discarded items.

Matt pulls away from my mouth, his going straight to my boobs. His lips envelop my nipple, sucking and taking turns between the two. The sensation from his warm, wet mouth on me has me clenching around nothing. Desperate for more, I reach down and grab at his constricted erection. I can feel him throbbing under my touch, and knowing he wants me as bad as I want him turns me to putty.

"Matt." I moan as he grinds his hips against mine, his dick adding much needed pressure to my core.

"Haven't even done anything yet, and you're already a mess under me." He tsks, smirking. "Don't worry, baby. I'm gonna give you what you want."

Without another word, he pulls his boxers down and places his dick on my pussy. He moves back and forth, rubbing over the soaked fabric. My eyes roll to the back of my head as he brushes over my clit, and I can feel myself practically oozing juices. He pulls my panties to the side and continues gliding his dick through my glistening folds.

"So wet and warm for me." He moans.

"All for you. Only you." I agree, my hands gripping the sheets.

Suddenly, he pulls away, causing me to whine at the loss of friction and warmth he provided. He quickly pulls down my panties, throwing them across the room. Sliding up and down my folds a few more times, he's slowly sinking into me. He tosses his head back, a groan emitting from his throat. I squeeze my eyes shut from the pleasure, subconsciously clenching around him.

Placing a hand on my stomach, he starts thrusting in and out, his speed increasing with every stroke. I can't help the moans that fall from my lips, my entire body overcome with ecstasy. He always knows how to make me feel so good. His hand travels up my torso, applying just the right amount of pressure as he goes. His fingers hook into my open mouth, pulling my jaw down, almost as if he was using me as leverage. The moans coming out of me are now broken and muffled seeing as my mouth is now stuffed with his fingers. I take advantage of this and wrap my lips around them, my tongue sliding all around them as I harshly suck.

He bites his lip, suppressing a loud moan, "Fuck. You make me wanna do very dirty things to you."

"What's stopping you?" I moan as his thrusts grew fiercer.

He instantly leans back from me and lifts my legs over his shoulders. He places his hands beside me to hold himself up as he starts drilling into me. The sound of skin slapping echoes around the room, and you can hear how wet I am. He's reaching places only he's ever been, leaving my legs quivering atop of him. My hands grip onto his biceps, my fingernails digging into his skin, surely leaving crescent shapes behind. One of his hands travels between my legs, rubbing fast circles into my clit, causing me to spasm beneath him.

"Oh god." I whine, feeling the intense knot build in my abdomen.

With my repeated clenching around him, his thrusts grow sloppy, and I can tell he's close. Lewd moans leave both of our mouths, our states of mind clouded with bliss. A throaty groan emits from him, before he quickly pulls out and releases his hot load all over my pussy. It feels so good, especially when he rubs his tip over my clit, then pushes back into me.

He only got a few more pumps in when he pulls out with a hiss, "Touch yourself."

I eagerly do as he says, my fingers easily finding my center. Once I come in contact with his cum, I drag my fingers through it, spreading it into my folds. My fingers brush over my clit, causing me to convulse with pleasure. I rub my clit in slow circles, enjoying the feeling of his seed all over me. Gathering more of his nut, I plunge two fingers into my entrance with a loud moan.

Matt's gaze hasn't left me this entire time, his dead eyes full of lust. I notice him repeatedly lick his lips, as if he wants to dive in and devour me, watch me come undone on his tongue. I fuck my fingers into my pussy, eliciting pornographic moans from me. Like he can't take it anymore, Matt removes me hand and replaces it with his own. Two of his fingers pumping in and out of me while his thumb rubs my clit. My entire body is shaking underneath him. He always knew how to make me feel good, better than I ever could. He knows my body inside and out, knowing exactly what to do to make me unravel. And sure enough, the pressure building in my stomach grows until it ruptures.

"Oh, my fucking god." I moan out, my back arching from the bed as I release onto his hand.

He continues fucking his fingers into me a few more times, before pulling out, "Such a pretty sight."

I am spent. Falling back into the bed, I attempt to catch my breath. Watching Matt with tired eyes, I see him slip his two fingers into his mouth, sucking our mix of fluids off. He leans over me and takes me in for a deep kiss, his tongue sliding all over mine, our blended concoction melting into my mouth. I can't help but moan into the kiss.

He then collapses next to me, immediately pulling me into him. "How about whenever we have something new in mind that we want to try, we just give it a shot rather than searching for it in fiction?"

"Agreed." I breathe, weakening into his embrace. 

Thank god for Tumblr. 

—

a/n : quick shoutout to my baby for the witchcraft idea 🫶🏼🫶🏼 enjoy, love u bunches xx

[christinarowie332]

these people are naughty….

matt and chris sturniolo discover tumblr …..

chris sturn x reader oneshot imagine

warnings : sexual conversations

if y’all see your fic names do a little dance

this was written out of pure boredom

———-

“im home!!!” my voice rang through the triplets living room as i walk into their house , closing the door behind me and walking towards the kitchen. it’s there i see matt’s face , and the back of my boyfriend’s head .

“hi y/n” matt says with a smile that reaches his eyes , squinting them slightly while laughing.

“hello matthew, what’s so funny?” i ask walking over to chris who still hasn’t even acknowledged my presence, but that changes as i reach his shoulders and place my hands on them , his head falls back and looks at me upside down . i lean forward and kiss his forehead, pulling away seeing a big goofy smile from him and him greeting me finally “hi mama” before he looks forward again .

“me and chris were just scrolling through some anonymous confessions on that tiktok account” matt reply’s before bringing his bottle of water to his lips and taking a sip , scrolling down on his phone screen making another confession show up causing him to laugh again.

i put my hands through chris’s hair from behind him , his eyes shutting and leaning his head back at my touch . “where’s nick?” i ask , noticing the absence, looking round thinking i maybe missed him on the sofa .

“he’s upstairs editing i think , should be down in a sec , how was work?” chris says while looking up at me through his eyebrows, his head fully tipped back making his adam apple stick out from his neck . “work was good , i mean i didn’t stop all day and i’m tired as fuck but like , i like the chaos” i reply while walking towards the fridge backwards , watching chris watch me as i move . “you have to like the chaos to be with that kid” matt says , his eyes still glued to his phone as he scrolls through the account . “these people are actually insane bro have u seen this account?” he continues, turning around in his chair to show me the confession . i squint my eyes slightly and grab his hand to steady the phone infront of me , the confession read ‘this might be wierd but do you think chris has a mommy kink …. i mean kid SCREAMS it but idk i might just be reading too much into it’

i laugh at the words and read them out loud to chris , making his mouth drop in shock as he attempts to grab the phone from matt . “the only crazy part about that is that it’s true” i say making chris get up from his seat and try to run towards me , i close the fridge quickly and attempt to run away from him. i fail . i erupt into giggles as his arms wrap around me , lifting my slightly. his head makes his way into the crook of my neck , rubbing his slight stubble into the skin making me laugh and squirm away from him . “i do not have a fucking mommy kink!” he exclaims as he puts me down , flicking his hair out of his face with his hands and walking towards the fridge .

“hmmm i don’t knowwww , u did call her mama when she got here” matt says , his lips falling into a line as he looks around with his eyes dramatically.

“that’s not a fucking ‘kink’ you weirdo , it’s just a name , it’s just a joke …..” he replies to his brother , sitting back in his seat at the table , a light blush coating his cheeks .

“whatever dude , i don’t need to know either way . the comments are even crazier , half of them are calling the anon a weirdo and the other half are all saying it’s me with the mommy kink ….. WAIT WHAT DID I DO?!?” matt says before frantically scrolling through the comments now . “what the fuck is ‘tumblr’ ?”

my head snaps towards matt . knowing full well what that app is from my highschool days . “hold on …there’s a sturniolo side to tumblr ?”. i ask walking towards him , pulling out the chair next too matt and moving it towards him .

“i guess , wait do u know ‘tumblr?’” he asks turning towards me , i keep my eyes on his phone and scroll down on the screen watching a few people talk about different things but most was all talking about ‘fics’ .

“yeah dude it’s like wattpad but on crack . like fully sex fan fictions bro . that’s crazy” i say , dragging the ‘crazy’ and laughing under my breath . “wait lemme download the app real quick” matt says while grabbing the pepsi from my hand to give to chris .

i take a seat next to chris , pushing it closer to lie shoulder to shoulder with him , watching his phone screen as he scrolls through tiktok laughing at videos together . after a while matt speaks up telling us he had made an account on tumblr .

“bro the top posts for sturniolos are literally just sex story’s , they got that one right .” he spins his phone around and shows us the top story being about his being good at giving head , me and chris roll our eyes before chris grabs his phone to scroll through it with me . his thumb moves down the phone screen . us both reading the titles of each fic , “too damn long ? oh you haven’t jerked off apparently baby . sit on my fucking face , first time , no nut november, eyes up , taking of the virginity… WOW CHRIS YOUR A FREAK IN THIS ONE-” i list out the names before chris puts a hand over my mouth causing me to giggle into his soft skin .

“wait till they find out i’ve never even held hands with a woman” matt says , grabbing his phone from his brothers hand whilst he is distracted looking at me . making both me and chris turn the look at him stupidly , the very obvious fact that he indeed in a man whore . “bro you literally just called yourself a munch” chris says to matt , moving his hand from my mouth and opening his own phone to text nick about the new app they discovered .

“you guys like have to react to these in a video , this is like insane” i say to chris through laughs.

“im pretty sure the only app we could upload that video to would be only fans , these people are naughty”

—————

i laugh and giggle funny ha ha .

taglist :

@mangosrar @soursturniolo @biimpanicking @querenciasturniolo @ermdontmindthisaccount @recklesssturniolo @tackycrown @udonotknowme @urmyslxt @iheart2021chris @its-jennarose @oversturn @paper-crab @strniohoeee @slut4chr1s @daddyslilchickenfingers @freshlovehacker @flowerxbunnie @kenzieiskoolaid @kvtie444 @loveesiren @lustfulslxt @lunarsturniolo @lovingsturniolo @chrisenthusiast @bluesturniolo333 @nickenthusiast @mattslolita @mattsbratt @chrisolivia4l @fredswh0re @rac00ns-are-c00l4

[lowkeyrobin]

Omg mcyt when their crush asks them out, but the reader is just surprising chill? Like, it's so casual it's insane just a "Hey, you wanna go out sometime?" while scrolling through sm and chillling lmao

oooooo okay okay I see the vision ; thank you for requesting!!

MCYT ; nonchalant ask-out

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, & quackity

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

you were sitting on the train to go visit some friends for a stream

you were sitting next to the window, facing the back of the train, while he was on the opposite side, also sitting next to the window, although his backpack was perched so he could rest an arm on top of it

you turn to him and just kinda ask as you're passing a field of cows

"you wanna go bowling sometime? like, as a date? it's fine if you don't wanna" you shrug

Tommy just blinks as his cheeks get a little red

"Uh, sure. I mean, yeah!"

you guys get to where you're going and while he's with tubbo, more secluded from you, tells him about it

"y/n like, casually asked me out on the train and I said yes! I don't know what happened, it was so weird"

"they're concerningly laid back about everything, you know this"

"...true"

RANBOO

you were doing a stream watching flushed away

lots of laughter and fucking around considering you were on the couch sitting next to each other with a camera in front of you

"what is happening right now???"

"hey, Ran?"

"hm?"

"you wanna go to dinner sometime? like a date?"

chat explodes and you're trending on Twitter before he can even respond

"uhm, uh, yeah, sure"

"cool"

they later tweet a "that was unscripted, and weird. y/n is never streaming w me again"

you reply with "yeah, sure pal"

"okay y/ns steaming w me tmr night stay tuned!!"

FREDDIE BADLINU

you guys + harry were making puppets at his place for a little prank, and making your friends into puppets as well

you were making him while he was making Tommy, and harry was making kermit (??), making some conversation for the camera

you're mostly working on the floor next to Harry because the table wasn't big enough for the three of you

you look up and just kinda blurt it out

"Hey, Freddie, you wanna go rollerskating sometime?"

harrys the first to speak "what the hell?"

"sorry, bad time"

"wh-no, actually, I'd love too" Freddie smiles

he later edits that with some music like it's 2019, pixel meme glasses and all

"got a date, wwwww"

NIKI NIHACHU

you were both playing on the qsmp, and taking care of em

niki passed over some food bc you were building something for her and ran out of food

"Hey, niki, would you ever go on a date with me?"

"wh- oh, uh, I mean, yeah!"

"cool"

her chat explodes and so does yours LMAO

ppl clip it and it's a hot topic on qsmp tumblr for a week or so

you tweet after stream "date ideas, GO"

niki responds with "you have to come here first, y/n/n 😭"

ALEX QUACKITY

you were out exploring the city together for a little vlog on your alt channel

you were talking and having a good time and whatnot, exploring stores and restaurants and parks

"hey, Alex, would you ever like, date me, I guess?"

"yeah- I mean, uhm, I guess so"

"cool"

when you guys get back to the hotel he instantly gets on a call w some friends, whom are streaming, and quickly rants about it, leaving you nameless tho

you see the clipped bit on YouTube the next day and can't help but smile cause honestly w move

[stfolsom]

ɢᴏᴅ ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ sᴛᴏᴘ ᴜs || cillian murphy x reader

summary || when you're a nanny, nights off are few and far between. with the family, minus mr. murphy, out of the house, you finally have time to relax. when an accidental late-night encounter intensifies, you begin to grapple with keeping to your morals.

warnings || 18+ only! this is SMUT! unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink sort of?, unspecified age-gap, alcohol, implied power imbalance, hair pulling

word count || 3,541 words

notes || this is my first fanfic on tumblr! i hope y'all enjoy. :,) obviously, this is just fiction and has nothing to do with the actual person cillian murphy.

The metal of the faucet felt cool beneath your hand as you gently turned it to the side and cut off the water supply, quietly, as if not to make a sound. It was more out of habit, you suppose, than actual necessity. The kids were all off doing their own thing, Mrs. Murphy was away on business for the weekend, and Mr. Murphy– well, Mr. Murphy tended to keep to himself and resign to his room early in the evening.

You tugged the end of your hair, squeezing the last remnants of your shower with the towel. The house was practically yours for the rest of the evening, and you had absolutely enthralling plans to park yourself in the living room and watch something until your eyelids got heavy. It wasn’t often that you had that luxury. 

This job had come around by happenchance a few years ago while scrolling through thousands of “odd” jobs. The description itself was vague enough to the point that, up until you sat down with them, you had thought it was an elaborate scheme to get murdered. The surprise relief that flooded your body when it was apparent that the Murphy’s were not planning on butchering you was overwhelming, and the feeling had been shortly replaced with the flushing feeling of school girl attraction. 

Mr. Murphy was handsome, no doubt. His large, almost clear-colored eyes seemed to look right through you. He oozed wealth in a very low-key way, a trait that was seemingly rare throughout your experience of nannying. You had indulged yourself in the naivety of a crush for the first month of the job, but had managed to shut it down as your nannying required more and more of your attention. Still, the prospect of being alone with him was enough to get your heart beating a little faster. 

Your feet hardly made a noise as you crept down the stairs to the living room, any sound muffled by the calf-length socks you adorned. Although they had made it very clear that all the facilities of the house were yours to use as well, there was still a level of “sneakiness” that consumed your being when you walked around the house at night. It felt like a proverbial monster was waiting, crouched, hiding in the shadows of the tall walls. So when you turned the corner to the living room and saw a figure already sitting in the arm chair, your soul nearly leapt out of your body.

“Jesus!” you whispered loudly, clutching your chest as you hastily sought the source of the voice. 

Mr. Murphy let out a breathy laugh and quietly shut his book, looking up at you from his perch.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the grit of his voice heightened from the quiet tone in which he spoke, “I figured you had gone out for your night off.”

“No, no, no,” you countered, rubbing a hand down your face, “it’s your house. I shouldn’t be spooked that you’re here.”

The floorboards creaked as he rose from the dark green barrel chair, carefully placing his book on the coffee table, and picking up an empty wine glass. “Well then, I won’t disturb you from your night off. I’ll be upstairs.”

You frantically moved towards him as if to usher him back into his chair. 

“No, don’t leave! I don’t want to disrupt you at all, I can watch something on my laptop instead. Really, it’s no problem. Actually, I quite enjoy it–” 

Mr. Murphy calmly said your name to halt your apologetic rant, closing the space between the both of you as he reached out a hand to your forearm. The touch made you halt, your eyes darting between his hand (his big, beautiful hand) and his face. “You’re not disturbing me, promise.”

“Mr. Murphy, I can’t in good conscience let you leave this room,” you chattered nervously back, trying not to lean into his invitingly warm touch. He laughed lightly at the order and let his hand back to his side.

“Then follow me.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you were sure all color in your face drained. “Huh?”

“Follow me. I’m headed to the kitchen to get myself another glass of wine. I was planning on doing so even before you entered the room, so I’m not violating that good conscience of yours, hm?” he spoke with a slight smile on your face, brushing past you towards the kitchen. You blinked a few times and then followed lamely, suddenly feeling incredibly underdressed compared to his slacks and cardigan. The sweatshirt and (short) sleep shorts you had thrown on were incredibly, embarrassingly, juvenile in comparison to his older man sensibilities. 

Mr. Murphy opened a small fridge nestled underneath the counter tops and pulled out two pristine bottles of wine.

“Do you prefer Cabernet Sauvignon or Sauvignon Blanc?” he asked coolly, uncorking the both of them. A small wisp of vapor pooled from the top. 

“Um, Sauvignon Blanc,” you said plainly, cursing yourself for how smooth it rolled off his tongue and how junkily it came off yours.

He wordlessly poured himself a glass of Cabernet and you a glass of the Blanc. The silence in the kitchen was intense, an itch gathering in your spine to break it. As you opened your mouth to speak, he broke first. 

“I hope you’ve been enjoying your time with us. The kids adore you,” Mr. Murphy said, handing you the glass. You took a polite sip of the wine, the dryness invading your mouth as you looked back down at the glass with a slight rouge to your cheeks. 

“I have absolutely loved it. I adore them too, though with each day I can feel them slowly getting ‘too cool’ to hang around me,” you said with a small laugh, fingers rubbing up and down the stem of the glass. You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes dart to watch them. 

“Welcome to the reality of parenthood,” he countered, leaning back against the counter and sipping his cabernet. 

“It’s brutal,” you said with a dramatic exhale, “I can’t imagine how hard it must be when it’s your actual child.”

Mr. Murphy tossed you an amused look, crossing his legs as he stood. “Do you want kids of your own?”

If you hadn’t been already blushing, you sure you were now. You looked at him wide-eyed and then took a big gulp of the wine. 

“Well, maybe, I guess. I don’t know… it feels a bit cruel to bring them into a world like this.”

He shrugged his shoulders and finished off his wine with a large swallow.”

“Not that you and Mrs. Murphy are cruel! I don’t– I wouldn’t–” you said quickly, getting hit with a wave of embarrassment. “I just–”

“Hey,” he said coolly, waving a hand. “I didn’t think you were.”

You tipped your head back to finish your wine off and set the glass down on the counter louder than you had hoped for. 

“It’s a very rewarding experience,” Mr. Murphy continued, rubbing his fingers across his cleanly shaven jaw. “You’re a very pretty and well behaved girl. I think you’d have great children.”

You weren’t sure if it was the onslaught of tipsiness and when you became such a lightweight, but he seemed to be much closer to you. You quipped a laugh in response. 

“I’m not sure if you can say that to me, Mr. Murphy, but thank you.”

“Please, just call me Cillian,” he said, his body nearly parallel to yours as you leaned against the island and him against the counter. You could’ve sworn there was a dark sort-of hunger prowling around in those blue eyes of his.

“Cillian,” you repeated, feeling the way it felt in your mouth. His jaw tensed up, the muscle highlighted in the low lighting of the kitchen. The room felt so much smaller than it had twenty minutes ago.

Cillian put his glass down slowly, his movements precise and calculated in the same way a big cat moves. Your breath hitched, half anticipating him to pounce on you like a predator to his prey.

“I mean it,” he repeated, his eyes boring into you and that common casual indifference written onto his face, “you’re a very pretty girl.”

In one quick movement, his hand found the fabric of your sweatshirt and he firmly tugged you forward, closer to him. You stumbled, letting him pull you like a doll. Your eyes found his expectantly, searching for a sense of regret in his eyes. Instead, you were greeted with the feeling of his plush lips meeting yours.

The kiss was surprisingly chaste in comparison to how he had pulled you closer. His lips left yours as quickly as they had found them, his face still held close to yours. His hands reached up and brushed your cheeks with his knuckles repeatedly. You kept your eyes closed, leaning into the touch.

“Is this okay?” he murmured as he continued to stroke the skin of your face and neck, “I need you to tell me this is okay.”

You nodded and sighed. He lightly slapped your cheek, just enough for you to open your eyes and look at him again.

“I need you to say it outloud, darling,” he repeated. 

“This is okay,” you said, resting your hand atop his. 

“You don’t care that I’m your boss? That I’m so much older than you?”

The harsh slap of reality hit you and you tried not to recoil from his touch. Instead, you swallowed heavily and let the waviness of intoxication wash over you again.

“This is okay,” you said again, unable to say much more than that. 

He dove back in again, recapturing your lips with an intensity he had not previously shown. You groaned in surprise, your hands finding his shoulders to keep balance. He walked you backwards against the island, one hand wrapped around the back of your neck to hold you to him. His free hand wandered up your hip and underneath your sweatshirt, finding the soft skin of your stomach and kneading it with his large fingers.

“Fuck,” he rasped into your mouth.

The corner of the island pressed into your back as you tried to keep up with the hastiness of his movements. His tongue smoothed against your bottom lip, breaking through the barrier to kiss you deeper. You mirrored his movements, trying not to let your inexperience show. You had had hookups and boyfriends before, but none that kissed you like this. None that showed this much passion.

His hand slid up from the back of your neck and grabbed a fistful of your hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your head back. You gasped in surprise, grasping his shoulders a bit more.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he admitted in between kisses. “Ever since we first fucking interviewed you and I saw your pretty little face.” 

Your stomach fluttered and you kissed him back harder in response, causing him to grip your hair harder. Cillian pressed his knee between your legs forcing them apart, closer and closer to where your core ached for him. You whined as he dragged his lips from your mouth and down your neck.

Cillian’s free hand drifted down from the flesh of your stomach and to the waistband of your shorts, eagerly searching out your pussy. In discovering your lack of panties, he nipped at your neck and groaned.

“No panties?” he panted in amusement against your throat. Your face felt hot.

“I didn’t think my boss would be feeling me up in the kitchen.”

Your smugness was interrupted by his fingers rubbing against your clit and then down further through your folds, smearing the growing wetness around your cunt. You whined and pressed forward, pushing your body as close to his as possible. The grip on your hair loosened, that hand moving to hold your waist as he buried his head in the crook of your neck and mindlessly sucked at the skin.

“You’re fuckin’ heavenly,” he breathed, massaging your clit with the pads of his fingers. You ground down into the pressure, fingers digging into his back. 

“Mr. Murphy, please,” you whined, biting at his shoulder through his cardigan. The heat of his erection pressed against your thigh. 

He dipped one large finger into your cunt without warning, causing you to yelp and lurch forward even more.

“I told you to call me Cillian, dear,” he said, his hot breath fanning against your ear. 

His finger worked in and out of you skillfully, gathering more and more wetness with each thrust. You pressed your hips against it, seeking more pressure, more friction. Cillian added another finger, causing you to moan loudly into the soft fabric of his cardigan. His fingers pumped in and out of you creating a lewd wet noise. You felt your core begin to tighten, your grinding becoming sloppier with each thrust of his fingers.

“Oh fuck, Cillian,” you whined, pulling your head back from his shoulder to desperately find his lips. He met you in the middle and kissed you messily, increasing the speed of his fingers as he felt you tighten. You bucked against him faster, the impending orgasm causing a feeling of overstimulation that threatened tears in your eyes.

“‘M gonna cum,” you said against his lips, gripping at his back as tight as you could. 

Just as you spoke, your orgasm broke and warmth filled your body. You cried out, moving your face away from his and tilting it back. The pleasure wracked your body in waves, causing your legs to involuntarily twitch and threaten to give out on you. Cillian watched you hungrily, his eyes studying every muscle in your face as he made you cum.

After letting you calm down quietly, he removed his fingers from you. The absence made you wince, cold air hitting the wet skin of your pussy. Cillian pushed the front of his body against yours, kissing you lazily and pressing his arousal into your thigh.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he stated. The bluntness nearly knocked the breath out of you.

“In here?” you asked innocently.

Cillian wordlessly pulled you away from the counter and gripped your hand, leading you away from the kitchen and up the stairs as you stumbled after him. To your surprise, he led you to your room, which you supposed made sense. It would be too real to get fucked in the bed that he and his wife share. 

He closed the door behind him, moving to you quickly to resume making out with you. Insecurity flooded your body at the messiness and immaturity of your bedroom. You pulled back and laughed sheepishly.

“I’m sorry about my room,” you whispered against his lips. “It’s not very ‘big girl’ of me.”

He stroked the sides of your face again, looking you deep in the eyes.

“It’s perfect,” he reassured, “you’re perfect.”

Cillian kissed you again sweetly, and then returned back to the depraved nature of his kisses, kneading and grabbing at your body. He lightly pushed you back onto your bed, crawling on top of you as soon as your back hit the duvet.

He didn’t waste any time removing your sweatshirt and shorts. The garments were off your body with ease, leaving you completely bare underneath him while he still was dressed in his slacks and sweater. Your hand ran up his arm to the collar of the jacket and tugged gently.

“‘S not fair,” you pouted, “take it off.”

He looked down at you with a grin and then sat up, quickly taking off his shirt and pants. You watched intently as he stripped down in front of you, admiring the tone of his body. Compared to other almost-50-year-olds, his body was trim and lithe and it drove you crazy. He pulled down his boxers to free his swollen cock and you watched in awe as it sprung up against the soft of his stomach. He stroked it gently before crawling on top of you again and assaulting your neck with kisses and nips. 

You spread your legs to get him closer, your heart skipping a beat as his cock pressed against your core. You suppressed a moan and jerked your hips against his. His lips traveled further down to your breasts, kissing them gently before finding your sensitive nipples and sucking them. Cillian pulled his head back with a sickening pop as he released the nipple, your eyes screwing shut at the offense against the sensitive skin.

“Fuck me, please,” you said breathlessly, pulling his head back up to kiss your lips. He obliged happily, snaking his tongue into your mouth eagerly before sitting up. 

He knelt between your legs, one hand holding your legs apart and the other guiding his cock to your entrance. You tried not to jump as you felt his slick head prod at you. He pressed in slowly, meeting slight resistance as your pussy tried to stretch to accomodate him. His tip pushed through the tightness, causing you both to gasp as he entered you. You grabbed his forearms to ground you.

Cillian continued to move forward, reveling in your whine as he filled you up. Once he was fully inside of you, he returned to hover above you and kissed you again. You wrapped your legs around his waist and traced your arms up and down his back, encouraging him to move.

The first few thrusts strung as your body struggled to accept the size of his cock, your pussy getting wetter and wetter with each snap of his hips. You buried your head in his shoulder again, mouth resting against his bare shoulder as he fucked into you. He was gentle- pulling out half way and then thrusting up to press himself completely inside of you. You whimpered into his skin with each thrust. 

His movements picked up, his rocking movement becoming rougher and more intense. He slammed himself into you, desperate to get deeper and deeper. He pulled back from you, grabbing your thighs to reposition you. His hands forced your knees back up against your shoulders, allowing him more access to your cunt. The first thrust into you made you yelp and reach down to grab his thigh.

“Fuck Cillian,” you mewled, “that’s fucking deep.”

He laughed and leaned forward, folding his hands behind your head and continuing to fuck you deeper and deeper. The pressure was unbearable, the noises coming out of your mouth were noises you had never heard before. You could feel his head in the deepest parts of you, pressing into you at an unrelenting pace. His breath was staggering, his eyes wandering around your face as you laid slack jaw underneath him.

“Harder,” you managed to ground out, swallowing deeply.

He sat up for better balance, using his hands to press down into the back of your legs and push them up as much as he could. His speed intensified, pulling himself out to his tip to then slam back into you with as much power as he could muster. You frantically grasped the sheets, seeking something to stabilize you. 

“Look at me,” he said hoarsely.

You opened your eyes to stare up at him, his blue eyes bearing back into yours. His face shone with sweat, highlighting his marblesque facial structure. His eyebrow was slightly furrowed in concentration as he fucked you hard. 

“I’m going to… I’m going to…” you tried to gather enough strength to warn him but fell flat, your eyes slightly crossing from the intensity.

“‘M gonna come inside, yeah?” Cillian spoke weakly.

You nodded and whined, keeping eye contact with him as your core tightened more and more. His hand reached down to rub your clit, causing you to crash over the edge. You came loudly, unable to hold in a yelp as pleasure washed over your body again. Your walls clenched him, drawing him in deeper and pushing him to his own orgasm.

He fucked you through the pleasure before he let himself cum, his hips staggering before slamming into yours and pressing the both of you further into the mattress. He groaned into your neck, stroking your thigh as he continued to fuck you through the aftershocks of his own orgasm. You could feel the warmth of the cum seep deep into you, his leaking head pressed as far into you as he could. 

Cillian lazily kissed you and then rested his forehead against yours, his eyelashes tickling your skin.

You laid like that for a few minutes; your sticky bodies pressed against each other, his softening cock still deep inside of you. He finally sat up after the silent bliss had passed, removing himself from you with a hiss. You could feel a small trickle of warmth drip from your pussy as he moved away.

You laughed breathlessly as the gravity of the situation hit you, the weight of his body moving to lay beside you. His hand stroked your stomach lovingly as you both stared at the ceiling.

“Can we do this again?” you said quietly.

“I don’t think God himself could stop us.” 

[milkpup]

｡⋆ʚ♡ like father, like son

›› chapter 2 ›› nsfw 18+ ongoing multi-chapter fic!

previous chapter ♡ next chapter

ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

›› toji fushiguro x reader ›› megumi fushiguro x reader ›› toji x reader x megumi (mfm) ›› 18+ f!reader ›› started: 12/6/23 : updated: 1/29/24 : status: ongoing

‹𝟹 summary: You and Megumi are best friends. You've known eachother for almost your whole life. His home has become your second home. As time passes and life happens, Megumi slowly develops feelings for you, even though he's unaware of it. To complicate things further, you're now living with him and his father, who has also taken a liking to you.

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk, jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres / warnings: au - no powers, college au, power imbalance, pseudo-incest (they both want y/n, nothing w/ eachother), dubious consent

‹𝟹 tags: good cop bad cop, fluff, smut, angst, toji has a big dick, dilf toji, toji is his own warning, toji tries to be a good parent, toji is an asshole, toji is trying okay?, daddy dom toji, daddy kink, porn with feelings, porn with plot, friends to lovers, spit / spitting, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, double vaginal pen, double pen, anal, making out, making love, love triangles, praise kink, degradation, light masochism, light sadism, emotional sex, cuckolding, jealousy, jealousy kink, smoking, smoking kink, emotional manipulation, manipulation, polyamory?, father and son share you, protective megumi fushiguro, megumi needs a hug, megumi has a big dick, aged up characters, dead dove: do not eat, finger sucking, large cock, cum swallowing, blow jobs, first time blow jobs, under desk blow jobs, fingerfucking, face sitting, face riding, 69, mutual masturbation, threesome mfm, lots of smut, loss of virginity

‹𝟹 notes: formatting next chapter for tumblr! there are currently 4 posted on ao3. i have the 5th in the works! it gets spicy!

!! - again, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING - !!

! - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ - !

Chapter 2: Intimacy and Exposure

--

By mid afternoon, you and Megumi are both exhausted with your full course load. You both major in biology, no emphasis right now. Megumi loves animals, so he will probably pursue something veterinary later. As for you, you’re undecided. You chose biology because it’s very general and broad, and also so you could be with Megumi more. You would never tell him that, though. You just say “idk maybe some science-y crap” and shrug it off.

You weren’t able to get lunch, so you both decide to visit a coffee shop after your last class of the day. A snack and some caffeine would help get you through for a while until you decide what you want to eat that night.

Megumi orders his usual black cold brew and muffin. The barista asks how to spell his name, and giggles? Is she flirting with him?

“That’s a cute name…” She says as she writes it down on his cup. “And for you…?” She barely glances at you.

You’re not sure how you feel in that moment. Was she flirting with Gumi? Am I jealous? Why is my heart racing?

“Oh I’ll just get an iced black tea and a banana bread please.” You try to not show your emotions while speaking. You’re not sure why you feel this way though.

You hope and pray to whoever is out there, any deity listening, that Megumi would not see you blushing and jealous.

You think you’re in the clear, he didn’t notice. He drives you home and you scroll your phone, acting like everything is normal. In reality, you’re shaking.

--

Sitting around the table, you both have your laptops and books out in front of you. It’s been a couple hours of studying, and you’re ready to take a break.

“Gumi, can we take a break and watch something? If I read the word bacteria one more time I’m going to go insane.” You tell him more than ask, already getting up out of your seat. You’re yawning, walking straight towards your bedroom, not even bothering to wait up for him. You already know he will follow.

Your room is hyperfeminine, plushies everywhere, cute shit everywhere. But you also have a mix of other stuff, like your consoles and gaming setup (that Megumi helped you get), a bass guitar that you’ve barely touched, piles of books you haven’t sorted yet.

You turn the tv on, hopping onto your bed. Megumi follows and lies next to you. You’re already aware of his presence and he isn’t even touching you.

“What do you wanna watch, Gumi?” You ask as you scroll through different apps.

“Whatever you want, you have better taste in movies and shows.” He doesn’t really care, he just savors the opportunity to be close to you. He lies behind you, almost touching but not quite. He’s close enough to feel the tickle of your hair. He feels weird thinking that your hair smells nice.

You choose some random comedy show, not caring to pay any attention. You just wanted a chance to rest and turn your brain off for a while.

Megumi moves a little close, resting his hand on the side of your abdomen. This isn’t the first time you’ve been close to Megumi, you both used to cuddle under the same blanket on cold nights or huddle under one when playing games as kids. But for some reason, now it feels different. Maybe it’s because you’re hyperaware? It has to be that, right?

Your heart beats faster, your skin feeling warm to the touch with every movement he makes. Does he notice? Is he aware of these things too? Am I overthinking things?

An hour passes by, but it feels like an eternity. You’re so hyperaware that every second feels like 20 minutes have passed. He hasn’t done more than gently caress the side of your body. He doesn’t seem to be making any advances. So why is this so painful to endure? Why does a simple touch make your body feel hot, with something pooling in between your legs?

Megumi is aware. You think he isn’t, but he can tell. Your breathing is irregular, your pulse is uneven, your skin is hot. He notices, and it drives him insane. But he’s respectful, he wouldn’t try anything. You are basically siblings with how long you’ve known eachother and lived together.

It’s getting hard to breathe. Even the lightest touch sends jolts through your body. You turn around to meet his gaze, with a look he’s never seen before. Your face is red, you’re struggling to breathe, while looking into his eyes like you know his secret. He’s flushing too, starting to sweat, feeling heat spread through his body. Your eyes are intoxicating to Megumi.

He looks at your eyes, then your panting lips, and back to your eyes again. He’s thinking of everything he wants to do to you, he doesn’t care if it’s wrong.

He touches your cheek, caressing you gently. Your breath hitches as he’s so close to you. He runs his fingers down your neck, before he pushes you to your back. It’s not forceful by any means, but mostly surprising.

He’s on top of you, pinning your arms to your pink bedsheets as he leans down towards you.

“Y/N…” he breathlessly speaks, “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

You definitely do not want it to stop. You’re staring up at him with your doe eyes, unable to control your breathing. He leans in closer, his face not even an inch away from yours.

His lips crash into yours. You’re surprised, you didn’t think he would be so intense, and this good at kissing. He’s biting your lip, trying to elicit little yelps and mewls from you. He’s kissing you so roughly, forcing his tongue inside your mouth. Megumi is still on top of you, pressing his body against yours.

You can feel his heartbeat, his hot skin, his bulge against your body. You don’t know why, but you lift your hips and legs up a bit to angle yourself better against his body. Feeling him so close, pressing into you was making you feel almost drunk.

He releases one of his hands from pinning yours so he can caress your cheek a bit more. His hand travels down your neck again, moving towards your chest, before eventually resting at the bottom hem of your shirt.

He’s giving you sloppy kisses, before he momentarily stops to ask you a question. “Y/N, can I?” he asks while gentle tugging on your shirt.

You giggle. He’s too damn cute. You nod your head yes and he releases your other hand.

You pull your shirt above your head, leaving your bralette on.

He looks down at your flushed frame, no longer hidden behind some random band t-shirt. The moment you take your shirt off, he’s harder than ever before. You feel him poking into you a bit.

He kisses you with more passion this time, grinding his bulge into your clothed cunt. He’s grunting and making little moans in between kisses.

He lifts his head a bit to look at you and moves his hand over your bralette. He admires the intricate lace detail, thinking it suits you perfectly. He licks his lips. You know he wants to desperately feel what’s under, but you decide to tease him a bit.

You wrap your legs around his waist, forcing your bodies to be even closer. He grunts a bit, looking at you. You smirk and pull his head back down to make out with you.

You’re grinding against him with fervor, unrelenting and unforgiving. The feeling of him rubbing against you is oh so good, and extremely hot.

He moves his hand towards the waistband of your shorts. “May I, Y/N?” You think it’s sweet that he asked. You decide to reward him a bit.

You roll him over and push him against the mattress. You quickly get up and pull your shorts off, leaving your panties on. You take your bralette off. He’s watching you like a starved dog, savoring every second of this.

You pull his sweatpants off, leaving only his boxers on. He’s looking at you, with wide eyes, excited and surprised.

You straddle his waist, sitting on top of him. You grind against him, eliciting sounds of pleasure from his lips. You lean towards him, giving him a quick kiss on the lips, before leaving a trail down his neck. You suck on his skin, giving him small and faint lovebites. He looks so cute.

You have a suddenly devious idea. “Megumi, can I try something?”

He instantly nods yes; he wants you to do anything and everything with him.

“Lay down then, please. I want to try something I saw online once….” You say as you move towards his head. You’re hovering above him now. He’s directly at eyelevel with your clothed pussy, and he feels his boxers get tighter the closer you get.

“Let me know if you need me to stop, please <3.” You hum as you pull your panties aside and lower yourself onto his face.

He can feel your drenched cunt against his mouth and instinctually starts getting at it. Licking and sucking like it was his last supper. Megumi couldn’t really breathe, but he didn’t care. He could die right now and have no regrets. He would die a happy man.

You moan as he’s sucking and flicking between your folds. The noises you make drive him even more insane, he thinks he could cum right then with how much of a turn on it is.

You lift yourself up, giving him a moment to catch his breath as you look down at him. He’s staring up at you with the eyes of an animal.

You sit back down, and he continues once more. Sucking on your clit, savoring the taste of your essence, and basically fucking the air. He’s straining against his boxers now, desperate for any touch or release.

You have another idea. You lift yourself back up and turn around, your cunt still in front of his face. You lean down towards his straining cock. You push your cunt back down on his face, and like a good boy, he continues again.

“Fuck Megumi…” You whimper out as you push against his tongue. You move your hand over his boxers, palming his cock. You notice he’s quite big and you’re a little scared.

You release his cock from his underwear and it springs up. Megumi grunts under your touch. You stroke his cock a bit, slowly. That’s not your objective however.

You lift up once more as you move to spit on top of his cock. Megumi moans again, feeling the sensation of your spit covering the head of his cock.

You sloppily kiss the tip, earning a moan and a few curses from Megumi. “Fuck… Y/N.”

You move forward to suck the tip, before letting it come out with an audible pop sound. “You have hands too, Megumi…”

Your pussy is still in front of him, and he gently moves his hand to brush over your clit, circling it. You moan as you take him back into your mouth again. You’re desperately hoping this feels good, it’s your first time doing any of it.

Megumi pushes his index finger in, noticing how wet and tight your cunt already is. He’s salivating at the thought of when he can fuck your tight hole, but he’s content with just learning your body for now. Everytime he pumps his finger in and out, he hears your sweet, angelic voice.

The way you respond to his touch is music to your ears. Your mewls and whimpers drive him crazy enough already.

You take his cock back in your mouth, trying to push more in as he fucks you with his finger. He adds another of his slender fingers inside, feeling how he’s stretching you already. You moan around his cock, and this turns Megumi on more.

He moves to push you against the bed again, pushing your body down gently. He never breaks contact with your cunt, as he starts to fingerfuck you even harder. He’s watching you squirm and moan under his touch, and he can’t get enough of it.

“Megumi… Aah!!” His touch is relentless. He wants to hear every sound you can possibly make. He finger fucks you harder, feelings your walls clamp around his fingers. He uses his other hand to rub circles around your clit. You’re nearing your climax, and he’s eager to see all of it.

You’re drunk in the pleasure that is Megumi’s skilled fingers. He brings you to the edge, watching as pleasure washes over your entire body. He pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, wanting to savor your juices all while never breaking eye contact with you.

Your chest is heaving, but you want to make this man feel good too. You roll over and crawl across the bed towards him. He sits atop the bed once more, spreading his legs open and smirking.

The way you’re crawling towards him is incredibly hot. He knows what you’re about to do.

You make your way to his cock, spitting on it once more and stroking it a bit. You know you can’t fit all of this beast, but you want to try your hardest.

You look up at him as you take his cock into your mouth. You make it about halfway before you feel at your limit.

“Y/N, you’re taking me so well. You’re such a good girl,” he praises you as you drool over his cock. He gently grabs your hair, not tugging but mostly just applying pressure.

Your pussy drips again at the praise as you continue to go up and down. You’re finding a rhythm to breathe and still go at a decent pace. Using your hands also helps, and whenever you fondle his balls, Megumi’s eyes roll back into his head a bit.

“Y/N.. I’m close..” He says as he bucks his hips against your mouth. “Please.. don’t stop..”

You suck harder and moan against his cock. You don’t particularly like the idea of cum in your mouth, but for Megumi, you would do it.

He covers the back of your throat with his cum, and groans as you empty his balls like an expert. “Y/N… fuck…”

You pull back up, trying to not show how displeased you are with the taste of cum.

“That was… fuck…” He lets out an exhausted sigh. “Fucking… amazing…”

You’re laying down together again, not even caring to get dressed again. The studying can wait for later, for now you want to relish this moment.

You’re not sure what this means between you two, but you’re still happy that it happened. You yawn as he snuggles around you as the big spoon, surrounding by the same fuzzy blanket and cute plushies.

He thinks it’s so cute how tired you get after that. He lays there as you fall asleep before him, memorizing and tracing every detail of your body.

Toji comes home not long after Megumi finally passes out. He doesn’t see food on the table, and goes to check your room. He sees you and Megumi, asleep under your fuzzy pink comforter.

--

‹𝟹 notes: i will have the next chapter posted here asap :D feedback is always appreciated! ao3 has all the chapters so far!

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‹𝟹 notifs: @vvxxccaa @arylaa @starshipxoxo

ʚ join my notifs ɞ

(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie

[eetherealgoddess]

ꨄClose Quartersꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere College Au

❦When delinquents have a little crush on Kazutora’s roommate❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread!

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Japanese Language is Red

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture him as a black male but you can see him however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There will be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Close Quarters

“Damnit!”

Laughter filled the room as the loud clicks of thumbs hitting the buttons sporadically on the controllers echo amongst the shots ringing on the television. A hand drops the controller before the culprit stands from the floor.

“Alright, man. I’m done.”

“Aw, don’t be such a sore loser, Y/n.” The roommate with the tiger tattoo taunts, chuckling as he sets his own controller down.

“Whatever, Kazu. I know you’re cheating, anyway.” He responds, smiling as he walks behind the counter to grab a water bottle.

“Someone’s bitter.” He responds as he grabs the bong sitting beside him, lighting the remaining flower in the bowl. Y/n walks to the couch and sits with his ankle resting on his leg.

“Shut up. Anyway, can I borrow your laptop? I left mine at Mikey’s dorm.” Y/n explains, sipping his water before closing it and setting it on the coffee table. After finishing the bowl, he hands it to Y/n as he gets up from his seat.

“Yeah, I’m going to the Haitani’s so I’ll tell Mikey to bring it there.” He says as he walks to his bedroom.

Y/n sets the bong on the table and swipes through social media until Kazutora brings him the silver device. His earrings jingle as he walks to the front door, opening it and giving a small wave before he shuts the door behind him.

Opening his laptop, Y/n goes to the search engine and types their university’s assignment website. A few hours pass and he completes two discussion boards and a five page paper. Out of boredom he roams his roommate’s laptop until he finds his messages app. He finds quite a few chats though two stuck out to him. One is the chat they’re all in considering Kazutora introduced them all, and the most recent one is the group chat not including him.

Of course, they’re closer so it would make sense that they have their own group chat, though Y/n’s anxiety caused him to come up with scenarios where they might talk crap about him so he decides to open the chat excluding him. He scrolls just enough to see the most recent messages.

mikey: wat a pain

we shud do somthin

me: yeh? like wat hes straight

rin: u dk that

ran: hes dl theres no way hes not

sanzu: his gf

rin: guys do tht all the tjme

me: theh call evry njgbt which is annoying af

sanzu: could be bi

Y/n eyes the chat in confusion as to who they could be talking about. He scrolls up to see more of the conversation for context until his phone buzzes repeatedly. Viewing the caller id, he brings it to his ear after pressing the answer button.

“Hey babe.” Y/n says, backing out of the app and closing the laptop.

“Hey, how’s your day?” Her sweet voice says from the other end.

While they converse, his phone buzzes once more, causing him to pull it down and set it to the speaker.

Kazu: smoke n drink? come over

Considering he’s finished with his assignments, he shrugs as he takes his phone with him to grab his stuff. Considering the dorm is near, he decides to walk as he talks to his girlfriend. When he makes it to their door, they tell each other ‘bye,’ before ending the line.

When he walks in, he shuts the door and walks past the empty living room to Ran’s bedroom. Walking in, the guys are spread out, Sanzu working on his laptop with his back leaning on the headboard. The oldest Haitani laying beside him as he smokes a joint, Mikey sits on a bean bag chair with a controller in hand as well as Rin who sits on the floor in front of the bed. Kazutora has his feet on the desk as he leans back in the chair.

He’s greeted as he’s handed a bottle filled with the alcoholic beverage by the short blonde. Sitting beside Rin, he watches the tv as their characters run across the screen shooting enemies. They all converse as normal ‘homies’ do, playing their game as they switch who gets a turn with the controllers, along with drinking and smoking.

“I’m sick of beer. Someone make a real drink.” Mikey, tired of the bitter taste, suggests.

“Don’t be a baby, drink it straight.” Rin taunts.

“Aren’t you an alcoholic?” Mikey gives him a bored look. The youngest Haitani laughs at his response.

“Maybe so.”

“Alright, ladies. We’re gonna fix the drinks. Come on, Sanzu.” Ran says as they both get up from the bed, heading to the kitchen.

“What are they making?” Y/n asks in curiosity.

“Something good. It’ll definitely fuck us up.” Kazutora smirks.

A few minutes pass as they continue playing their game with conversation. Finally, Ran and Sanzu walk in with cups filled with a reddish purple liquid, handing it to their friends as they sit back where they were. An hour passes and by the time everyone is done with their drinks, they’re all giddy as they become less sober unlike Y/n whose head is leaned back against the bed in a deep slumber.

“Wow, he’s really knocked out.” Rin says as he attempts to wake him up by shaking him.

Mikey crawls over to the sleeping figure, smacks his face a few times, to no avail.

“Damn.” Kazutora says. “What did you put in his drink?”

“Something good.” Sanzu says as Ran stands up to walk towards the limp body.

“I’ve got an idea.” He says, picking him up before walking over and placing him on the bed.

“He’s not gonna wake up and if he does, he probably won’t remember anything.”

“What are you getting at, Haitani?” Kazutora asks with his arms crossed.

The purple eyed man proceeds to remove Y/n’s shirt, slightly looking back as he side eyes Kazutora.

“What do you think, Hanemiya?” He smirks before undoing Y/n’s pants and tossing them to the side.

“Wait, so we’re gonn-!”

“I know what you’re thinking and it’s not like that. We all love him, right?” Sanzu says as he takes a sip of his own spiked drink. “Then what’s wrong with showing it however we want?”

“As far as I’m concerned, I can do whatever I want with what’s mine.” Ran smiles as he eyes the limp bulge in Y/n’s underwear. The rest of the friends hop up from their seats as they walk to the bed, hovering over as they caress his body.

“You’re still sick. Move.” Kazutora says as he positions himself to sit behind Y/n as the back of his head lays on his shoulder. He moves his hands to his hips as he squeezes.

“And you’re not?” Ran laughs.

He ignores him, slowly placing his lips on Y/n’s neck as he rubs his sides.

“Honestly, this seems like a special moment.” Rin says as he grabs his phone, pulling up the camera app and setting it to record.

“Hey, what the hell?” Kazutora questions. Ran puts his finger to his mouth.

“It’s alright. Memories, you know.” He pulls out his own phone as he moves back to get a better angle.

Mikey eyes Y/n for a moment before pulling his underwear down. He throws them to the side as he leans in, hazy eyes as he stares at the limp cock. Sanzu positions himself next to the other blonde as he spits in his hand, reaching over and wrapping his hand around the muscle.

Kazutora continues his kissing which turns into licks and the licks turn into sucking his neck, hands moving to his nipples as he rolls and pinches them. Y/n’s cock twitches as the blood rushes slowly.

“So beautiful.” He whispers against his skin as he looks down at his rising length. His own hard cock rubs against Y/n’s lower back, precum leaking through his briefs.

Sanzu lowers himself as his lips close around the head of Y/n’s penis. Sucking the precum from his urethra, he uses his tongue to swirl around the mushroom top. Y/n’s hip twitches as his head slightly moves, still in a slumber as they eye him cautiously. Sanzu continues until he fits the whole girth into his mouth, the head hitting his throat as his eyes close, moaning from the stretch.

Everyone can feel their own pants tightening at the view, especially with the way Y/n twitches from the touches. Kazutora unclips his own pants, moving to where he could pull them completely off. Rin gets closer, his phone’s camera facing his hand that moves up to play with Y/n’s nipple. Ran focuses his camera on Sanzu as he bobs his head.

Y/n’s leg moves as his cock completely hardens. He releases a small grunt as his hips twitch once more. When Sanzu releases, he looks at Mikey expectantly, who answers by wrapping his hand around the tense muscle and placing his lips around the head, easing down to fit it in the back of his throat, no gag reflex detected.

“Good?” The blue eyed man questions.

“Mhm.” Mikey moans as he bobs his head.

Completely aroused by the display, Kazutora opens Ran’s nightstand drawer, finding the lube he sets it on the top. He pulls down his briefs and throws them to the side. Using the lube, he covers his dick with the liquid.

“Whatcha doin there, Kazu?” Ran taunts.

“Shut up. I’m only putting the tip in.”

“Yeah, sure.” Rin rolls his eyes.

Kazutora grips Y/n’s thighs as he pulls the legs back, leaning his own body back to position the head of his cock comfortably at the sleeping man’s entrance. Sanzu and Mikey take it upon themselves to lick and suck his cock together.

Kazutora breathes out as his cock enters the tight hole slowly. The Haitani brothers watch as Y/n’s nose scrunches. His cock throbs as his head falls back.

“Fuck.” He whispers to himself, trying all his might to not fully shove it in.

“Come on, Kazu. Take what’s yours.” Ran says with his signature smile, teeth showing as his arousal takes over.

“Yeah, you might as well. You’re already in there.” Rin continued.

“Fuck I’m sorry, baby.” He whispers against Y/n’s ear before shoving himself deep inside of Y/n’s ass. One of his hands reaches to hold his neck as the other arm wraps around his waist. He grinds his cock in and out before he accelerates his pace, throwing his head back once more and releasing a moan.

Y/n’s eyebrows furrow as his eyes peak open, a throbbing pain going up his back as his body rocks up and down. He breaks out in a cold sweat as he feels moisture on his cock, confusion and exhaustion being the only feelings he can decipher at the moment.

Opening his eyes fully, he makes eye contact with two pairs of familiar eyes looking up at him. He shifts his gaze to the other two people who have their cameras facing him. His eyes tear up at the agony coming from his ass, the pain conflicting with the pleasure of his cock adding to the confusion. He turns his attention to the hot body holding him from behind.

Wait, I’m naked?

When reality hits, his eyes widen as he struggles against the hold.

“Wh-what the fuck is going on?!” He exclaims. He grunts as his hips buck when Mikey and Sanzu continue their assault without a care in the world.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, baby. It’s okay, just relax and it’ll feel really good.” Kazutora whispers against his ear, sweat dripping down his head as his hips accelerate, angling his cock to hit his roommate’s. prostate.

“Ah! K-Kazutora, wh-what the fuck?!” He could barely think about anything else but the intense sensations his body is being met with. His arms were bound by Kazutora’s wrapped arms so he couldn’t use them to get out of their grips.

“Relax.” His hand tightens around his neck as well as the arm around his waist before Kazutora plunges his cock inside of him rapidly, hitting his spot each time.

Y/n’s mouth is held open as he breathes heavily, the pain turning into a pleasurable fullness that he couldn’t believe.

I can’t believe they would do this to me. We’re supposed to be friends.

“I want to try something.” Mikey states as Sanzu moves back to give him room. Kazutora slows down to small thrusts as he holds back for Mikey to get adjusted, already having an idea of what he’s about to do.

“N-no! Get away from me! All of you!” Y/n exclaims, crocodile tears streaming down his face.

“Stop being so dramatic, Y/n” Rin scoffs.

“Y-you’re all fucking sick! Pieces of sh-!”

Sanzu shoves Kazutora’s balled up underwear in between his lips, forcing him to have muffled screams.

“If you spit it out, I’ll kill your girlfriend. Watch your mouth.” He threatens as he caresses his cheek with his thumb. Y/n could only stare in horror when he heard the promise, knowing how they’re all in a gang and have killed people before. He feels as though this could be his karma for turning a blind eye, not wanting to be involved but couldn’t help but accidentally hear conversations he wasn’t supposed to hear, though that doesn’t come easy when his roommate is so involved.

While all of that played out, Mikey undressed himself before climbing on top of Y/n. He grabs the lube and covers Y/n’s cock with it.

“Please, no!” He muffled, though he was ignored. Mikey places the head to his own ass before he drops himself on top, cock disappearing into him as he bottoms out with a grunt. He picks himself up before slamming down again, moaning as the head hits his prostate. He accelerates along with Kazutora who also matches his pace. Mikey’s head leans on Y/n’s shoulder as he rides him, grinding his ass while his own cock rubs against Y/n’s stomach.

“S’ fucking good. You feel so good inside of me.” Mikey moans against his neck, sucking his skin as Kazutora did the same on the other side. Y/n could only grunt and whimper occasionally as he’s stretched out from his ass and squeezed tightly from his front.

Y/n’s phone buzzes from the floor, Sanzu picking it up and smirking when he sees the caller id. He pressed the answer button. When her face appears on the screen, her eyebrow raises in confusion when she sees Sanzu.

“Oh shit.” Rin’s smirk grew wide as he eyes Sanzu in surprise. Ran could only laugh as the moans from Mikey and Kazutora could be heard.

“Hey. Y/n is kind of busy, right now.” At the sound of his name, he turns his head to see Sanzu holding his phone.

Oh no!

“What’s that noise?” She asks in confusion.

“Here, I’ll show you.” Sanzu says before turning the camera to face her boyfriend, making sure Y/n would be able to see her facial expression. He spits the cloth out, forgetting the threat as he desperately speaks to her.

“M-Mai! I swear to god this isn’t what it looks like! Pl-please!” He cries. “I didn’t kn…!”

“See, he’s busy.” Sanzu turns the camera back to himself, eyeing her distraught face in content.

He chuckles and sets the phone down when she hangs up.

“Why?! Why did you do…?!” He’s cut off by Mikey placing his lips on his.

“Didn’t I say that I’d kill her if you spit that out? If you bite him I’ll do it slowly.”

Y/n shakes his head sporadically as he whimpers before his eyes roll in the back of his head and his head drops back, Kazutora thrusting harder inside of him, rubbing his walls as he hits his prostate each time.

“You’re doing so fucking good. I’m so close, baby.” He whispers as he kisses his ear.

Mikey continues grinding hard, hitting his own prostate as Y/n’s cock rubs against his walls. Both of Kazutora’s hands move to grip Y/n’s hips tightly as Mikey hugs around his neck, thrusting harder.

Finally, Kazutora releases deep inside him, thrusting up as he holds his cock there, Mikey following along as his ropes of cum shoot against Y/n’s stomach. Because of the pressure, Y/n’s body reacts as he convulses, orgasming hard inside of Mikey.

They all breathe heavily before Kazutora removes himself from Y/n as Mikey climbs off. The Haitani brothers hand their phones to Kazutora and Mikey as they tell them to keep recording.

They force his legs up and spread as Sanzu and Ran immediately lick up the cum on his cock. Rin pushes him up more to get a better angle of his ass before licking the rim.

Weak, Y/n tries to push them away by pushing their heads back. They don’t budge and only swatt his hands away. His limp cock springs back to life as the sensations take over once more.

Ran takes him into his mouth fully as Sanzu moves to his testicles. Rin plunges two fingers into the wet hole, specifically angling to meet that familiar spongy spot. Kazutora moves closer to his upper body.

“I hate all of you.” He hissed as his body twitched against their play. “S-so fucking much.”

“Love you too.” He responds before placing a kiss on his lips. Caressing his forehead as he angles the phone’s camera to his dick.

Ran bobs his head thoroughly as Sanzu licks and grips his balls. Rin continues using his fingers to plunge back and forth deep into his hole at a steady pace. His legs tremble as his body convulses once more, nearing his release.

Throwing his head back, his hips buck once more. Releasing a grunt he shoots his semen in the back of Ran’s throat as he swallows it all. Both men lick up the remaining slick as Rin pulls his fingers out. Kazutora and Mikey stop recording, sending the video to the group chat without Y/n.

“I think it’s time to pay her a visit.” Sanzu says as he wipes his mouth.

“No! You’re not gonna fucking touch her!” Y/n growls as he sits up.

“What are you going to do about it?” Rin challenges.

“He’s going to do nothing but take this dick.” Ran states as he picks him up and forces him into doggy style. He struggles against Ran, failing miserably as his ass is pointed in the air.

“We’ll take care of it.” Mikey states as he dressed himself.

“No! No, please! Don’t hurt her! Kazutora! Stop them, please!” His voice cracks as the tears stain the sheets. Kazutora crouches in front of his face.

“Calm down, Y/n. It’s gonna be okay. You’ll get over it.” He says before walking to the doorway with Mikey and Sanzu.

“Please!” He whines as he begins to break down. Rin crouches as he stares at him with a smile.

“If you relax, you’ll feel better, okay? There’s no way we’re letting you go so you might wanna get used to this now.” He wipes a tear away with his thumb.

“Also, we’re gonna try to fit both of us in so relax your muscles, pretty boy.”

[pedrisbanana]

Hey can I request a fic with pedri X reader where they're just friends and theyre chilling at his house and he steals her phone so she straddles him to get it back and it leads to rough sex/face sitting/thigh riding that would be LOVELY xoxo

Two words. Pedri's nose.

Enjoy 🍌

Nosy

You and Pedri were sitting on the couch playing Fifa, when the doorbell rang. 

"Must be the Pizza." Pedri said and paused the game to get the door. You were glad he spared his cheat day for you. Eating Pizza while watching him chew on some whole grain Spaghetti was kind of depressing. 

"I'll go cut them" he yelled through his apartment and you thanked him. Deciding to scroll through your Tumblr feed while waiting, you somehow stumbled into the Pedri tag.

Gifs about Pedri. Oh. 

Sometimes you looked at gifs and pictures of Richarlison or Jude Bellingham. You were a straight girl after all, of course you liked looking at physically fit sweating men. 

Looking at these gifs of Pedri seemed weird. He was your Friend.

You scrolled past it, but the interest didn't leave you. You could take a peek right? He would never know anyway. It's just a gifset. Taking a deep breath, you scrolled back. 

The post greeted you with a gif of Gavi and Pedri. They were talking. Nothing too special. They were wearing the lilac Barcelona kits. It was from the match between Barcelona and Athletic Bilbao. 

The second gif showed Pedri complaining, probably to the referee. He was sweaty.

The third gif made you bite your lip. A blush crept upon your cheeks and a warmth spread through you. Did you really just get turned on by looking at a gif of your friend ?

The moving image showed a very sweaty Pedri. His wet hair stuck to his forehead and his flushed, tan skin glistened. His gloved hand moved up to his nose. He was breathing heavily, exhausted from the minutes in his legs.

Pedri looked wet and dirty and absolutely sexy. You had known he was attractive, but never like this. The picture caught you so off guard, you didn't notice shown person enter the living room. 

"What's got you so flushed ?" Pedri laughed and before you could move, took your phone and fell down on the couch.

Eyes wide, you screamed. "Pedri, my phone. Give it back. Pedri. Now." 

You tried to reach it, but he held it up to far, switching hands, laughing at you. 

"Pedri! I'm serious, give it back." You climbed on his lap, legs on either side of his thighs. 

He couldn't see the gifs or else he'd tease you with it forever, or worse think you'd have a crush on him and cancel your friendship.

With one quick movement Pedri grabbed your wrist and held them on your back, your phone falling onto the couch pillow. Pedri smirked at you and secured your wrists with his arm, holding you chest to chest. He was so close, you were sure he could feel your breath on his cheek.

"Now let's see what's got you all freaked out" He took your phone with his free hand, delighted to see that it wasn't locked yet. You squirmed in his lap, preparing for the embarrassment. Pedri's eyes flickered over the screen and his smirk dropped as he saw what, or more, who exactly was displayed on your phone.

The midfielder reached forward to put your phone on the table behind you. You bit your lip, prepared for him to push you off, but he didn't. He let go of your arms and to your surprise, adjusted your position on his lap, by pulling you closer with his hand on your ass. 

Pedri looked right into your eyes. Something shifted in the air, making you hold onto his broad shoulders. Your core was on top of his muscular thigh. 

"I didn't know you had these thoughts. I thought you were different." His voice was rough, but steady. 

You opened your mouth to explain yourself, but Pedri was faster.

"I should've known you were just as wet for my dick, as all these girls lusting after me" The footballer moved his hands inside the waistband of your shorts. They were warm and rough, you clenched at the feeling.

If you weren't already aroused by the pictures, you definitely would've been now. Pedri started to leave small butterfly kisses under your ear, moving down your neck between his words.

"Tell me, amor, did you think about me when you couldn't fall asleep at night ?" His thumbs skimmed above the line of your panties, making you squirm on his thigh.

"Did you finger your needy pussy while thinking about me on the pitch, hm" Pedri supported your movements on his thigh. 

"Did you think about me fucking you every time I invited you over?" 

You could feel the wetness soaking your panties, his thigh stimulating your pulsing clit over your shorts. His words spurring you on to pleasure yourself on his leg. You had to bite your lip to prevent a moan.

"Did you think about me fucking you when looking at these pictures? Did you imagine if I looked like this after using you for my pleasure ?" 

You moaned, this was too much. He played you so easily, guiding your hips over his thigh. A few more thrusts and you came, his name on your lips. He chuckled. You didn't know what was so funny about the situation. 

Still coming down from your high, you climbed off his lap. 

"If I had known all it took for you to give in to me was a picture of me all sweaty, I would've invited you to the locker room after a match" he was still laughing. 

"Very funny. I'll have you know that I surprisingly stumbled upon these" You crossed your arms. How could he laugh ? Noticing that he was very much hard in his Barcelona Gym shorts, you looked away.

"So you don't want to fuck me? If so, then excuse me while I take care of myself." Pedri teased and got up in direction to his bedroom.

You followed him, wetness spreading uncomfortably between your thighs. 

"That's what I thought." he smirked and bent to slide your shorts and panties down. "C'mere" Pedri laid down on the pillows of his bed. You followed by crawling above him. 

"Higher" he ordered, pushing your hips towards him. You gave him a confused look and he winked "On my face, bonita" 

"You can hold me here, I've got you." Pedri lead your hands to grab his hair and you slowly sunk down. His nose hit your clit and you moaned. Grabbing your thighs, he pressed your weight onto his face. 

"Sit and don't you dare to hover. I decide when you've had enough." his mumbles vibrated against your flesh and you rubbed against his nose. 

His nose. You had always liked his nose.

"Mmmhh Pedri, your nose ... feels like heaven" you praised him and pulled on the brown strands. 

The grip on your thighs tightened when he started to use his tongue. He was really good. His tongue explored you as you rode him, purposely letting your clit bump against the tip of his nose. Moaning his name over and over again, Pedri switched between licking, sucking and kissing your most sensitive parts.

You came in no time, but Pedri didn't let you go, his deep voice vibrating against your clit. His tongue lapped up your juices, stimulating your still clenching insides. In the process he slapped your ass a few times, hard, making you buck against his face and pull at his hair even harder. 

Pedri seemed to enjoy this, stroking your thighs, making you come another time. The pleasure overcame you in waves, riding his face. 

Obviously, all this had an effect on Pedri too. He lifted your hips from his face and looked at you with a big grin. His face flushed under his eyes, lips and nose coated in your arousal. Your fingers moved to his neck.

"If I wouldn't be on the verge of coming inside my pants right now, I'd have you on my face for hours. Next time, amor, I promise." The brunette buried his face in your chest, almost like a hug, looking up at you. His cheekbones grazed your hard nipples, making you his and grind against him. You could feel his hardness against your butt.

"You're so beautiful." Pedri slowly removed your top, fingertips teasing your soft skin, creating goosebumps all over. As he wiped his face with your top, you climbed off him to get access to his manhood. When you slid his gym shorts down, his cock was already testing the stretch of his black slip. It looked painful. 

While you were still unsure on if you should free him, Pedri already got up to take off his remaining clothes, leaving you kneeling on the bed. 

His warm hand stroked up your ass cheek, finding the dip of your waist. "Bend forward, hermosa, take one of the pillows" 

"Yes, Pedro" You reached to get one of the pillows, and before you could position yourself , he was inside of you again.

"Say that again, bonita" He grunted, pace rough and slow, holding your hips in place.

"Pedro" It sounded like a plea and you buried your face into the pillow, as your friend snapped his hips inside of you, the soft cotton stimulating your sore nipples from the back and forth of your bodies.

He pulled your hair harshly, making you arch. "Again, bonita" 

"God, fuck- Pedro" Your voice was hoarse, eyes tearing up from the immense pleasure you were experiencing. 

He chuckled, bending over you, one hand finding your clit, as the other wrapped around your throat. You couldn't help but start nipping and licking the pad of his thumb on your lips, to keep your voice low, another orgasm building up. 

"God hmm, if that's how you see me, you've got a lot of worshipping to do" Pedri teased the shell of your ear with his tongue, his thrusts becoming harder, but teasingly slow, making you suck on his thumb, until his cock slipped out. You groaned, clenching around nothing.

He let go of your clit, to guide himself inside of you again, not before rubbing his tip over your sensitive bud. 

"You're gonna take all of my cum, carino. Your little, needy pussy is gonna take everything I'll give you." Pedri tightened the grip on your throat, feeling your heartbeat as you came, clenching around him. 

You felt him pump his seed inside you, calling your name. You tried to regain your breath, when he turned you over, plush lips ghosting up between your breasts to kiss you. A small peck. 

You watched him quietly, one knee between your legs. The muscles defining his stomach flexing, as he stretched to get your tank top, discarded on the headboard. Pedri's strong hands found your thighs and his index finger collected some of his release, before he wiped your pussy with your tanktop. The cotton burnt, as he rubbed it over your used flesh harshly, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

His chocolate brown eyes found yours, as he offered you his finger. You propped up on your elbows, taking his finger greedily, sucking it clean and he watched you. The action created a certain intimacy between you.

Looking at gifs of Pedri didn't seem so weird anymore.

A/N: Yo, I think their pizza is cold now.

The gifset I described : 🍌

Let me know what you think !

[poraphia]

Hi there! Could you make a cc!wilbur x reader fluff story? I had this idea where the reader comforts Wilbur because maybe he saw some Wilbur slander, or a hate channel about him, or something like that, or vice versa (Wilbur comforts us). Tysm!!

"A Man Of Many Talents"

pairing • cc!wilbur soot x reader 1188 words • 9/23/23 containing • little angsty, wilbur is sad, article talking down on wilbur and reader's relationship, reader comforts wilbur my masterlist ~! ღ mrs. mania ღ on Tumblr

"even when you're traveling the world, even when you're making videos of all kind, i still love you all the same."

♡♡♡

Wilbur, as many of his fans know, is a face of many.

But sometimes, the man suffers in his own success.

We were sitting in our living room, cuddling on the couch. It had been months since we’d laid with each other like this. The A/C filled our space with white noise, and the TV was at a moderate volume with the captions on. I watched the silly cartoons playing on the screen while Wilbur buried himself in my chest. He held his phone close as he mindlessly scrolled through the media. I ran fingers through his curly hair, gently tugging out his tangled knots.

Wil hasn’t been home for more than a month since the beginning of the year. We’ve been distant but kept in contact to the best of our abilities since the launch of his new group channel and his band’s world tour. Wil was finally taking his break month to rewind from such major projects. Finally, there was no struggle to match up time zones, finding the signal to text, and not being awake to answer Facetime calls. We were next to each other, engulfed in each other's warmth.

That was until a certain article Wil saw that pierced a hole right in his heart.

I felt Wil stiffen in my embrace, which made me raise an eyebrow. My hand moved down to his cheek and I began caressing his cheek. “Hey, darling, are you alright?” I asked softly. He didn’t respond. Instead, his eyebrows furrowed as his eyes frantically read the lines of text. Abruptly, he sat up on the edge of the couch, leaving me lying down with confusion rushing through my body. Suddenly it felt cold the moment his body heat left me. I slowly sat up, now sitting next to him. I tilted my head and examined the stern look on his face. The white glow of his phone illuminated his eyes, but it was more of a strain to his eyes than a starry twinkle.

“Honey?” I called out to him again.

He whipped his head around. His eyes were wide, and it felt as if he were looking right past me. I felt like a ghost next to him. He parted his lips, almost to say something, but he stopped. Instead, he stood up and left me on the couch.

“Hey!” I exclaimed. I stood up as well and followed him to the kitchen. “Wilbur, why are you ignoring me?” I asked, my concerned tone seeping into my words. Again, he didn’t speak. He dropped his phone onto the island table, making a clattering sound against the marble. His hand wrapped around the fridge handle before swinging it open and taking a bottle of water inside. Wil nearly ripped off the cap before chugging it down. I stood a few feet from him, not sure how to proceed. My hands fidgeted with the ends of my sleeves as I nervously bit my tongue.

A moment of silence passed between us as he stared down to his feet. I shifted my weight from one foot to another, feeling my heart skip a little. Finally, he spoke up.

“You… You love me, right?” Wilbur said, barely loud enough to be considered a whisper.

I tilted my head. “What?” I said, bewildered at such a question. “Of course, I love you! Why wouldn’t I?”

His grip around the water bottle tightened, crumpling the plastic. He then turned around and handed me his phone, showing me the article he was so fixated on.

“Wilbur Gold: showering in success, suffering in his relationship?”

My eyes widened. What the fuck is this about? I quietly read to myself.

“William Gold, famously known to play in well-known Minecraft servers, lead singer of an on-tour indie band, and member of an adventurous improvisation group, is known to be a busy man. What many people don’t know is that he has been in a committed relationship for years. How does he have time to be with the love of his life knowing that he’s been away from home for so long? Matter of fact, he barely even mentions them in interviews and concerts! His partner may need to start rethinking their relationship because William Gold certainly doesn’t show us what kind of a boyfriend he can be.”

I looked at Wil, his eyes refused to meet mine.

“I… I know I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately, but I mean— You know nearly all my songs it’s inspired by you!” He ran a stressed hand through his untamed hair. “Like in Warsaw, I mentioned our first kiss, and then in It’s Golden Hour Somewhere, there were the pixels! The pixels off your lips!” He explained, near frantic. “I— I—” Wil stumbled over his words as tears threatened to spill out of his eyes. He threw his head back with his palms covering his eyes. I felt my heart drop at the sight of him as I could only imagine what doubts and stress he had running through his head.

Slowly, I approached him. My feet glided against the cold tiles before I wrapped my arms around his long torso. His frantic breathing slowed, and so did his heartbeat. As I pressed my ear against his chest I could feel it pounding against me. His shoulders started to relax, and his arms fell to either side of his torso.

“Wilbur, you are the best boyfriend I could ever ask for and more.” I mumbled. “We’ve been through thick and thin. We went through long distance, arguments, hell I’ve even seen you drunk out of your mind when you threw up everywhere. “ I chuckled. I lifted my head away and grabbed his chin to look him in the eyes. “But I promise you, nothing, and I mean nothing, about you being busy has made me question our relationship. I love cheering you on and achieve your dreams. I know you take me in your heart alongside it all, and that is truly enough to make me happy.”

Wil placed a hand on top of mine. “You… You promise, right?” He asked, his voice trembling a bit. I gently smiled, reassuring him.

“I promise.” I stood on my tippy toes and nuzzled his nose with mine, finally seeing those cute dimples of his deepen with a toothy grin. He wrapped his arms around my torso, picking me up and spinning me around. I buried myself into his shoulder while giggling, wrapping my arms tight around his neck. He placed me down on the island counter before hugging me tightly. His nose poked at my neck.

“I need to brag about you more…” He muffled into my skin. I felt his hot breath against me, making my skin tingle.

“You don’t have to!” I exclaimed.

“I doooo!” Wilbur buzzed. “In fact, I’m gonna kiss you in front of eeeeveryone one day! On the stage!”

I rolled my eyes before placing a kiss on his forehead.

“Maybe one day…” I hummed.

♡♡♡

a / n ~ not proofread! just wanted to get this out as fast as possible aaahhh but i hope you enjoyed! reblogs and notes of all kinds are superrr appreciated!

[nyrasbloodyclover]

hypnotic (kai anderson x reader)

cw: breeding kink, eating disorder (it's really really bad), mommy issues, mentions of suicide, parental abuse, cults, kai is his own warning really, murder, overstimulation

a/n: if you're not into this pleaseeeee leaveeeeee i don't want tumblr to delete my blog again. also you can read this fic on ao3 if you'd like, link is in my pinned post. and if, by any chance, you relate to this i am so sorry.

What I wanted right now, was to get out of my house, go anywhere, just so I could stop listening to constant fighting and screaming from my parents. I couldn't bear it anymore. I had one year until college but it seemed impossible to survive that long. 

"Oh, look who locked herself in her room!" My mother bursted in and a pit started forming in my stomach. I didn't move. "When are you going to start being useful? You're in here all the time, you could start paying rent." 

Now, what was I supposed to say to that? If I told her that the reason I spent all my time in my room was because they wouldn't stop screaming at each other and I would just be their punching bag, she wouldn't listen and the situation would only get worse.

"Or maybe it's time for you to find a job. Now you're just living like a parasite." I stared. My mother was a very complex character. I think she would be capable of pulling Gone Girl on us. She has the mentality. Just saying.

My father on the other hand, he's weak. Or she made him weak. I don't remember the last time he stood up for himself. He's tired, I can see that clearly. I just wish they would get a divorce. It's so draining to wake up everyday and live in fear that your every move is going to be a mistake, something to criticize. 

I don't remember the last time I felt truly at peace, but I could afford myself distractions. That's how I ended up scrolling through Tumblr 12 hours per day and forgetting to eat because the skinny girls I came across were just so pretty. Food was my enemy. We couldn't stand each other. And the guilt simply because of eating was the worst feeling ever.

Empty is pretty. And I wanted to look pretty, so I starved. It was my sport. It still is. The joy of seeing my hipbones and ribs after some time was indescribable. I loved to lay awake at night and touch my bones, feel them as I tried to fall asleep. Of course, there were many times when I just couldn't take it anymore and I binged. I would regret it immediately and restrict even more.

"Alright. I'll find a job." I stared at her with empty eyes. I was dizzy, almost like I got drunk. She exited the room and slammed the doors behing her. I think I'm never going to fully understand her.

I stared at my ceiling, having no energy to move, even though I had unfinished assignments hanging above my head, screaming at me to do them, but I just wanted to sleep. School can wait. I think my red lipstick was smudged, but I had no energy to take it off. My hair was a mess, too. I tried to straighten it but my natural waves were too stubborn. I fell asleep.

A week passed. My life stayed the same except for my new job at the restaurant—The Butchery On Main.

The two sweet women who own it were kind enough to let me work even though they don't employ people under eighteen. I worked mostly after my school, until the closing. I didn't mind since I got to leave the house and get a break from my parents. 

People were nice, I took their orders, served their food. The restuarant was mostly empty during my shifts, but nonetheless it was almost hard, working with food. All those calories around me made me want to puke. And I wasn't much of a puker. I had the urge to binge. It was disgusting. But I wasn't going to throw all my work out of the window just like that. 

I had my diet coke and if I got hungry Ivy said that I could eat whatever I wanted, and I wanted cucumber. With pepper. They had those.

Today, I had much free time so I was just sitting at one of the tables and doing my homework while scrolling through Tumblr and eating freshly peeled cucumber with some seasoning on top. I was thriving. I was almost happy. It seemed impossible.

The door opened. A man walked in. He was dressed in black from head to toe and what stood out the most was his blue hair with grown out roots. He walked like he owned the building and everyone in it. I immediately stood up, while he was pulling out his chair, fixing my uniform. I let him read through the menu for a couple of seconds and then decided to approach.

"What would you like to order?" I smiled. I was nice. I am always nice. Why hasn't he looked at me yet? Why is he ignoring my presence? His head was bowed down until he raised it and I was met with black pools that stared at me, or rather through me. I felt dizzy and it wasn't the diet.

"Surprise me," he cocked his head, "I would love to see what you liberals like to eat the most. Maybe it'll make me change my political views."

"Al..right," I dragged on, "Is that all?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Everything will be done in a minute." I wanted to get away from him, as soon as possible. He was probably some Trump obsessed republican who's most likely to tell me to make him a sandwich. Which I am practically doing right now. But I couldn't deny it - He had a beautiful face. I wouldn't consider him that attractive if it weren't for his dead, piercing eyes that silently commanded you to obey every one of his rules. 

The food was ready. I had a feeling I would fall on my face next time I locked my eyes with his, which wasn't good. I didn't even know his name! Rachel, one of the cooks, handed me the best steak they had, house's special, "Who is it for?"

I didn't dare look at him. "The one with the blue hair. Just please don't stare. He's creeping me out."

Her eyes went wide, "That's Kai Anderson."

I looked at her blandly. The name didn't mean anything to me.

"You seriously need to watch more television."

"I'm fine, thanks. And if he's some menatlly deranged politician, then I'm not really missing out."

All the politics drained me, and don't get me wrong, I loved to be informed, but when I had to argue with someone about basic human rights, I'd rather not know anything.

I walked over to his table, and put the food on it. "I hope you're not vegan. Either way, enjoy your food." I kept my eyes everywhere, just not on him. He was so unsettling. I had to get away.

"I certainly will," he said and I walked away without a second glance. Jesus Christ, his mere presence was intense.

My shift ended in half an hour and that's when the restaurant was supposed to close. Ivy left early because of some family emergency, so she asked me to close and lock everything for her. I changed into my regular clothes—denim skirt and a white button down with my favorite black sweater, docs and a pair of knee socks. I untangled my hair and tried to brush it out with my fingers.

The tables were empty. Well, mostly. So-called Kai Anderson was still here, not even eating, just looking at some papers and flipping them over, for a while now.

I needed some extra balls to approach him and ask him to leave. Why did I accept to be the last one here? I could've been home by now, sleeping or watching a sitcom, but instead I'm stuck in this building with the strangest and the scariest man I've ever met. But then again, If I were home, my mother would be screaming at me. So I guess it's a win? Also I had to thank Kai for occupying my mind and not letting me think about food. I seriously needed to go to bed before I ended up eating something. Or worse- binging. I think I had less than 200 calories today which is a sign that I am slowly approaching danger zone. It isn't a diet anymore. I can't eat normally. I thought I could go back, but I guess my body won't let me. Or was it my mind?

"Miss?" Someone waved before my eyes.

"Yes? Sorry." Kai was standing beside the table that I occupied. 

"Are you closing soon?"

Should I lie? But then again, he isn't stupid. "Yes. Do you want to pay?"

"Oh no. I already did. I just wondered what occupied your mind that much." He had no idea.

"Nothing much. Just tired I guess. Can't seem to balance school and work."

"Ah. You see," he sat across me, "I don't believe you."

"Okay? I didn't try to be persuasive."

He smirked. Dear God, why was he so creepy but so hot at the same time?

"I still want to know what made you zone out for that long." Has he been staring at me the whole time?

"That's creepy. I don't even know you."

"What's that got to do with anything? I just asked you to tell me what's been botherung you. You looked fucking stressed."

"It really doesn't matter." I just wanted him to leave. 

"Wait. Here, I'll give you..." he reached into his  back pocket, "Fifty bucks if you tell me."

My lips curved. Come on, you can't blame me. Extra cash at my age isn't something you just don't accept.

"Ah! I knew it," he smiled, "Come on, doll, speak."

"It isn't anything interesting. My mom is just being a bitch, nothing unusual." I gave him the least I could and snatched the cash from his hand.

"She isn't letting you sleep over at your boyfriend's or something?" He laughed like I had the dumbest reason for not liking my mother.

"Not really. She just...Wants too much, I guess? And I'm not able to give her that." It felt weird saying that out loud. I think I never said it.

He stared at me for a second.

"I want to show you a trick." He put his right hand on the table. "Don't worry. It's something me and my older brother always used to do when we were little."

He reached with his pinky finger over to my hand. We locked fingers like we were making a pinky promise. 

"This is weird. And please hurry. My shift ends in fifteen minutes." 

"We have enough time. Okay, listen. Pinky power. Once the skin contact is made, no lies can be told and whatever we say, stays between us," he narrowed his black eyes, "Trust me, if you lie, I will know. Ready?"

When did I agree to this? Well, fuck it, I'll do it anyway.

"Do you love your family?" He asked, his expression serious.

"Yes." His mouth twitched.

"Do you like your family?"

"Absolutely not." I shook my head.

"Why is that?" 

How do I explain this to him without sounding like a total maniac? "My father is weak, he doesn't know how to stand up for himself. And my mother screams at me for merely existing. Her favorite hobby is emotionally draining me, then pulling my hair or slapping me because she feels like it. She regrets having me. I think she wants me to kill myself. It would be easier to have a dead daughter." My mind went blank. I felt nothing in that moment. Whatever he asked, I was going to tell him.

"Did you ever try to kill yourself?," he asked with a flat voice.

I thought for a second. Should I tell him the whole truth? He said he's going to know if I lie, but that doesn't mean...

"Don't think too much." His eyes went dark while I was literally choking under pressure of his gaze.

"No. I was never suicidal. I like living. But I..." words were stuck in my throat, "I...Sometimes, she would starve me. Saying I didn't deserve it. I had no money to buy something to eat. So I made a game out of it. I developed a disorder. It was the only thing I had some control over. I started it out of spite, but now it's real. It's worse than ever. But I don't want to stop."

His expression never changed. Not once. "Do you hate your mother for that?"

"You have no idea."

"I think I do have some idea about hating one of your parents. So, from experience, I need to ask you one more question."

I nodded. "Have you ever dreamt about killing her?"

I wanted to pull back from him, but his hand wouldn't let me. He pulled me even closer. "We can't break the contact," he gritted through his teeth.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," I exhaled, "Yes. And no."

"Elaborate." 

The restuarant was silent. I couldn't even hear the sound of cars outside. Lights were practically out. 

"I...I wanted her dead. But I don't think I would be able to do it. I had a," I inhaled, "A fantasy about someone killing her while I watched. It's so fucked up, but I just couldn't help it. It brought me relief that she was gone and someone cared enough to get rid of her for me." 

I was scared to look at him. He was going to call the mental ward and lock me there. I was fucked. Why did I tell him all of that? 

I looked up.

He was smiling. It wasn't a sympathetic smile, or a sad smile, or anything similar to that. He was grinning like a maniac. He released my hand and I realized my eyes were filled with tears. I blinked them away. 

He shook his head with closed eyes, "You're perfect. Perfect."

My voice was low, weak. "What? How could you think that after what I just told you?"

"Don't ask too many questions. I have a solution for you because I know you're destined for greater things. Tell me, do you wish to never be under your mother's thumb again?"

"I mean, yes? That's going to be when I turn eighteen, so I have to be patient."

He laughed. "Oh, no, baby, no. She's never going to let you go. She'll suffocate you until there is nothing left but a shell. No matter the age or what the law says, you'll always be controlled. While she's alive, at least."

"What are you saying?"

"Do you want my help? Do you wish to be finally free?"

This was so fucked up. I never met this man in my life. Why was he offering me help?

"What's in it for you?"

He cocked his head, "I get to keep you by my side."

My mouth was dry. I was scared, but...excited. Thrill rushed down my body as this psychopath was staring at me, offering me a sick escape. I was supposed to say no. I was supposed to save my soul.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"I want your help."

He looked so happy, it made me happy.

"Good. Then, we're leaving now." I was hypnotized by him. I just nodded, not asking where or why, my mother taught me I shouldn't get in the cars with strangers, especially men, but my mother was also the reason for many of my problems. I'll do something that'll piss her off.

I got into Kai's car and shut the door. I was okay with the fact that he might end up killing me.

He said nothing for the most of the ride, but I noticed him glancing over at my skirt that rose up to my thighs. I didn't bother pulling it down. I mean, I wore mini skirts for a reason, right?

I pretended not to notice as I looked at my reflection in the closed window. Hollow cheeks, red lipstick, pale face. I was obsessed. I always wanted to look like a corpse with make up. My face was perfect, lipstick untouched, mascara a little smudged, dark circles under my eyes from sleepless nights. 

"You know you could eat a burger." I looked at him. I almost wanted to hug him. His words made me feel proud, like I achieved something big. And I guess I did.

"Really? Do you know that you're the first person ever to tell me that?" I felt weird happiness in my chest. 

"Well, yeah. Why do you look so surprised? I didn't mean it as a compliment. You have a problem. I'm not even sure it's supposed to be a compliment." He frowned, not taking his eyes off the road.

"It doesn't matter if it's supposed to be a compliment or not. Thank you for saying it." I didn't give two fucks if he thought I was some anorexic lunatic that needed years of therapy. I was happy. And he wasn't my parent or my guardian to tell me what to do.

"Just think about it. What's the point of being so skinny? It's not even attractive."

"The point is in being clean. I don't want to see a pound of fat on my body. It's disgusting. And I am to do with my body as I please. I don't give a fuck if someone likes to eat like a fucking pig because It's not my body, and certainly not my problem." I was so angry. Who the fuck he thought he was?

"Just saying. You look sick. And I mean really, really sick."

"I am aware. Like I'm also aware that I'm fucked in the head. And that's the reason for all of this," I gestured over my figure. 

I could feel his anger. He didn't like that I disagreed with him and stood up for myself, even if I was wrong.

"We're here." He suddenly said, getting out of the car. I followed him into the house I guessed was his. The whole neighborhood was silent. Lights were off everywhere. 

We got into his house and I didn't even got to see it clearly because he practically dragged me into his basement and started changing. He put on a black leather coat while looking for something. His phone? He called someone.

"I'm expecting you'll be here in five? Well don't try to make up excuses. This is a perfect opportunity. I don't care— No, drag yourself and your pathetic wife here." He called two more people and I just stood in the middle of the room staring at him. 

"What's your adress?" Was he really doing that now? "You know what, never mind. I found it." I wasn't going to ask him how. He looked like the person who instead of Instagram browsed dark web. 

"Okay, let's go. They're here." I had to ask him because he said nothing about it. I had to be sure.

"Why are we going to my house?"

Beat. A moment. "To kill your mother, of course."

There were other people with us, but I couldn't see their faces because of the creepy clown masks. Kai had one too. I felt like I was drugged. I didn't know what happened to me. I suppose I had enough. I know Kai is not the answer for my problems, at least not all of them. He's going to get rid of her and then what? No. Stop thinking. 

I listened to my brain this time. It was late. My parents were probably asleep. Probably in separate beds. It's going to be easier for Kai and the others to do the job. They kept their mouths shut and I didn't blame them. I still wasn't sure if I was part of this sick cult or whatever it was. I read enough about them to recognize a cult leader when I see one. 

The car suddenly stopped. We were in front of my house.

"This played out so good, little lamb. I knew you were perfect." Kai's voice was muffled under that mask and his words made my heart flutter. He was so sick. "Don't just stand there, baby. Be a good host. Invite us in. Come on," he gestured with one gloved hand towards my house. I felt everyone's eyes on me as I turned my back and started walking towards the door. What did he mean by this playing out good? Did he plan this before? It certainly did not matter.

We got in, doors creaking, but not enough to wake anyone up. My father was downstairs, in the guestroom, but my Satanic mother was in their bedroom. I went first, up the stairs, one by one, they followed me, Kai first, then the rest of them. 

I showed them the doors. 

Kai got in and they followed him. I shut the door behind me. I felt like I was seeing things through someone else's eyes. I didn't feel guilt and I wasn't regretting my decision. I remember everything through a coat of blur. Knives, a lot of them. They killed her in her sleep. Stabbed her too many times, I lost count. Sheets were soaked with red and the room started smelling like iron too. Kai used her blood to draw some sign on the wall that was facing the bed. It looked like a smiley face, but I wasn't sure. The job was done. I was free. I was free of any charges, since I wasn't home when it happened. I was going to sleep in my bed and wake up in the morning, shocked, petrified, screaming for help, calling the police, my father is going to be terrified too, but relieved. He would never admit it thought. 

We were in the car again. Then in front of Kai's house. "Leave. I want some time alone with our newest member."

"Kai, no. You can't drag her into this. She's just a child—" A feminine voice scorned him under her mask.

"Don't tell me what to do, Winter. Now leave," he raised his voice and I flinched. "We have much to talk about." He took off his mask and smiled knowingly at me. I wasn't scared of him anymore, though I knew I should be. He killed my mother for Christ's sake! 

We went into his basement again. The lights were already on and I watched him as he took off his mask and black coat. His shirt was soaked with my mother's blood. 

"What did you want to talk about?" I cocked my head.

"You were so good. I knew you could do it. Next time, maybe you'll even be the one holding the knife. You didn't even flinch!" He paced through the room and laughed, like he was talking to himself.

"You didn't do this for me, did you?"

He stopped, then looked at me, "I already told you. This played out perfectly. And I've been watching for quite some time now," his eyes darkened "When I found out that the woman who's been talking shit about me over her social media had a daughter, I had to see if she was as bitchy as her mother." Oh, so he did this to save his reputation. Of course.

"And," I swallowed, "Is she?"

He didn't answer me. Instead he marched to the other side of the room and pushed me against the wall, slamming his lips on mine. I was out of breath, not being able to process everything. Oh my god, he was kissing me! This insane, sick in the head, narcissistic, 30-something, psychopath was kissing me and I opened my mouth to him like the whore I was. I wanted him to touch me. No, I needed his blood stained hands on me right now. 

I pulled one of his hands and put it on my chest as his tongue continued to explore my mouth. He took off my sweater and shirt. I was left in a black bra and skirt.

"Aren't you scared of being arrested for fucking a minor?"

"I commited far more monstrous crimes than fucking a seventeen year old and you know it, " he breathed into my mouth. Red lipstick was smudged over his lips. His hand that was on my chest slipped under my skirt and found my panties. 

"You know it," his fingers entered me with ease, "And yet, you're still so fucking wet for me." My mouth fell open as he buried his fingers deeper if that was even possible. I wasn't a virgin, but then again, I've never been with a man. I took my own virginity so that I didn't have to bother. 

"Kai—" I breathed. I needed more.

He sat on one of the chairs beside the circular table and pulled me onto his lap, his thigh between my legs. My clit was aching for some king of friction so I started rubbing myself against the rough fabric of his jeans. 

"Aren't you desperate?" He pushed me on the floor, between his legs, he pulled out his belt and unzipped his pants. His intentions were clear and I was happy to oblige, but I had to touch myself or I'd go insane. I started stroking his already hard dick and rubbing my clit at the same time. 

He noticed. And he wasn't happy about it. "I thought you were going to be patient. But I guess not." He took his belt and with one move he tied my hands behind my back while I was still kneeling in front of him.

"Please, I just need to—"

"Yes, yes, I know, but you have to deserve it. Am I right?"

I nodded hesitantly and he scooped up my hair in his fist and used it to pull my head down. I took him into my mouth as the wetness and ache grew between my legs. 

Kai continued to pull my head down until his tip hit the back of my throat and I gagged. He chuckled.

My eyes teared up as I sucked his dick like my life depended on it.

He grunted and raised his hips, so I knew he was close. And I knew he was going to either come in my mouth or...

He pulled out and finished on my tits, painting my chest with his cum. 

"You were so good," he said with his head tilted back and eyes closed. He let my hair fall down my back and over my face. Kai dressed and got up, then pulled me with him, still tied.

He slammed me on the desk and I was able to just lay there and let him do whatever he wanted to me. Not that I minded.

"I feel like I'm going to break you," he said as he traced my very visible ribs with the tips of his fingers. "Break every bone in your body." 

I could feel my stomach sinking in and his words made me even a bigger mess than I already was. "Do it, please, please," I cried out as my hips rose towards him. 

"Since you asked so nicely...And the skirt stays on. Do you know how much willpower it took me not to bury my hand under your skirt and make you beg for more while we were driving?" He pulled my skirt up and didn't even bother to take off the panties, he just ripped them. He towered over me as I layed on his table, feeling the cool air on my swollen clit. 

Kai's fingers went over my aching pussy and my back arched towards his touch. He did nothing for a split second and then came the first slap. I yelped as the burning spread between my legs, but I didn't tell him to stop. He slapped me even harder and I cried out, most ungodly sounds coming from my mouth.

"Don't worry, you can scream as loud as you'd like."

He slapped my dripping cunt once more and after that I was sure I was going to feel his hands on me days after. He didn't wait for me to recover from his brutality, instead he buried two fingers inside me and started scissoring, wanting to spread me even wider. I threw my head back as he added one more. He buried them knuckle deep inside me and began curling them.

"I feel like you're a big girl. You can take one more." He didn't wait for my agreement. His four fingers were inside, making my pussy burn with pleasure. I wasn't able to form words. He spat on me and started massaging my clit while almost his whole hand was thrusting in and out of me. I felt pressure deep in my lower stomach and started panting and moaning for him to continue, but he did exactly the opposite. 

My cunt was left empty without his fingers and I could almost cry. I just needed a bit more.

"Don't look so upset. I'm not finished with you." 

Kai untied me and took his belt. He spread my legs as wide as he could and started spanking my pussy with it. I screamed more in pain than surprise, "Kai, no, stop, please stop-"

The pain was unbearable, but it was just enough  for my clit to start pulsing more and that pressure in my belly to grow. I screamed in pain as he continued to hit me with no mercy. I could feel my walls clenching and my back arched as I came undone. Orgasm hit me and I came down from my high, but Kai didn't stop. 

He started rubbing my abused cunt, overstimulating it. He was deaf to my begging and crying. It was too much. There was no pleasure anymore, just pure pain, but he continued to massage it and after a couple of minutes I was shaking with another orgasm. I knew I was too sensitive, but when I tried to close my legs, he stopped me. Then I noticed his rock hard dick under his jeans and my heart dropped. I was going to pass out. He was going to use me, not caring for my pleasure anymore.

"Just hold still a little more, doll." He pulled his dick out and slammed himself inside me, making my eyes roll to the back of my head. Everything hurt, but he didn't care. His thrusts were fast and rough, I couldn't keep up. I could feel his orgasm building and he had no intention of pulling out. Kai continued to slam into me until he reached his peak. He filled me with his seed and when he finally pulled out I could feel it dripping from my pussy.

Kai helped me get up and as he was untying his belt, his hot breath was on my neck. "Welcome to the cult, baby."

[preciadosbass]

21/8/24 [1X DIY <collage> — technically a draft from yesterday as it was posted on a schedule, key + significant photos at end]

wow, i’ve been doing this for a while now. i woke up at just before eight and listened to frank iero’s ‘new’ single and oh my fucking god its so good. i love frank sm. i scrolled through my tumblr feed until 8:40 when i finally got dressed. today i’m going to adventure island [a theme park] with this person i know. i wish i could call her a friend, but she makes fun of me too much for me to count and i overall just don’t feel comfortable with her. however she’s alright to me occasionally, like today she seemed happy to be around me. i only see her as my mum is bestfriends with her mum, but my mum dosent believe the way she usually acts towards me.

today i got dressed into my silent hill shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, knee high converse, two spiked cuffs [one with longer spikes and without a third row], mcr bracelet, panic! at the disco bracelet, sleeping with sirens bracelet, diy can tab bracelet, and a diy beaded bracelet. along with my kellin quinn necklace, a taxidermy scorpion necklace, a taxidermy raccoon tail and a silver studded belt across the right side of my hip/thigh.] [because i was anticipating cold weather as the park is directly behind the beach, and it’s the warmest outfit i have. and yes, i copied this from mondays journal, shh]

i listened to my main playlist instead of a cd while putting everything on as i added three more full albums to it after listening to ‘this song is a curse…’ [illuminaudio - chiodos, discovering the waterfront - silverstein [[im surprised this wasn’t in it already]], and wires…and the concept of breathing - a skylight drive.] and then went outside to see boris at 9:30 after straightening my hair + putting on eyeliner. like always, i’d already stood in the doorway and said goodmorning upon waking up, but i wanted to sit by him/talk/and cuddle. i didn’t manage to be out with him for long as R [that person im going out with] and her mum/stepdad pulled up on the drive. so i greeted them and started packing my bag on the kitchen table.

while i was doing that, R handed me a monster original and started speaking about how she dosent know what one i like, but i’ve never had any other flavour as i dont generally go out and buy food/drink. it was really sweet of her and it proves that i guess she’s getting more friendly with me. just a few months ago she wouldn’t let me speak about much/would make fun of me constantly/etc. i’m glad that someone thinks of me and that anyone would do such a thing. i hope we do end up being friendly in a friend way, if that makes sense. like i personally consider a friend someone you can trust and open up to, and i hope we get to that point. i think what’s been preventing it is the distance between where we live.

anyway, in my bag i had: my camera [i bring it everywhere], two battery packs [one’s always in there & out of battery], a lead for the battery pack[s], a coke zero, my monster energy, my wallet with my disability access card, my skullcandy headphones, my phone, a tiny bag because i’ve been losing/having my earrings break a lot recently, my safe food, a few band pins that have fallen of my backpack, hand sanitiser, a safety pin [i don’t even know why], and a bat plushie. its not even a comfort plushie, he’s just permanently in my bag since i got him at another theme park, chessington, at the vampire ride. once i’d got everything ready to leave, i said goodbye to boris and me and R’s family set off.

while we were in the car, R suggested making a blend [again, she was acting more friendly which is super nice] but it didn’t work. then i had the idea of adding each others playlists to one another and putting it on shuffle, but that didn’t work either as her spotify was only playing songs off her playlist. either way, it was nice she thought of it. we ended up listening to our own playlists on the way to the theme park. i listened to: shoot the girl first, the used, signal the escape, fall out boy, falling in reverse, patrick stump, and my chemical romance. also on the way there, we saw an older woman with cat face paint on and hair ties that made her look like she had cat ears. i wonder what the occasion was, or if there was an occasion. just something i randomally remembered about the drive.

we arrived at 10 and got in not even five minutes later. we walked over to the stall where they sort out your tickets/passes and R’s mum activated my disability access card. it was super embarrassing because they had to take a picture of me, and it took ages, but everything eventually went through and worked. the first actual thing we did was find a table and put all of our stuff down. i met J and A. J is R’s family friend, and J’s mums bestfriend. i’m not too sure who A is to the both of them, but he went around with us. he’s 19, so i thought it’d be a little awkward, but when we started walking around to the other side of the park to this ride called green scream, i realised it wasn’t going to be.

its a kids ride, but for some reason its enjoyable. unfortunately the photo thingy wasn’t open so i didn’t get to see what we all looked like, but oh well. the next ride we went on was rage, one out of two of the bigger and ‘scarier’ roller coasters. i used to not mind rage, but over the years it’s become incredibly rough and your head hurts for at least half an hour upon getting off. its a shame because it completely prevents it from being an enjoyable ride, but it looks really smooth. we got on and set off up the vertical lift hill, which is honestly the best part, because your head can’t start hurting yet. then you go down this drop which is quite similar to thorpe park’s saw the ride, just less steep. the entire time the ride was running, my scorpion necklace was tied around my eyes. i was scared itd come off because i’ve already had one break without me knowing and they’re really cool/expensive to buy as you need to make sure their ethical taxidermy.

but, it did make the photo look silly. when i first saw it, i thought i somehow forgot to take my glasses of and didn’t notice. i did take a picture of the ride photo but got told off which was really embarrassing lmaoo, there was someone else taking a photo though and nobody said anything so i don’t know what was going on with that. [photo at end] i’m not too sure in what order i went on the rides beyond this point of the day, but i’ll carry on speaking about it anyways. afterwards, we went back to the table to have some snacks and talk a little to J + R’s mum. once we’d done, we went back round to where rage is and went on the blue [outside] water slide as it was boiling and it didn’t matter whether we got wet or not. there isn’t an access queue for this ‘ride’ so we queued up with everyone else and got round to having a turn at around 12:35.

A wanted to go on the green [inside] water slide so we split up once we got to the actual queues for each slide. it went long before me and R got on our raft. i went on the front and she placed herself at the back. we got absolutely soaking wet and the photo of us was so cool because our facial expressions were questionable and you could see the full length of my converse in it. i didn’t take a photo though, as the person behind the stand looked intimidating. afterwards we went back to the table and then went on the indoor ‘scary’ ride. which isn’t scary at all - mind you, it’s another kids ride - but the props and things are cool. it’s one of those rides where you go around in little carts and as you look around there’s holograms/animatronics/figures except it’s mostly monster/clown themed.

while waiting to be loaded onto the carts, my necklace started glowing [photo at end cuz why not] its kinda embarrassing to actually get on the ride. when you have an access pass, you get on first via the exit. but because of how the ride is designed, you have to get on - then they run it around a small bit of track while everyone looks at you. and then the others queuing get on. its so awkward knowing everyone’s staring at you slowly going by 😭. it was too dark to take any proper photos but i took a blurry photo of one of the larger figures because it glows and i think it’s cool. [photo at end] the last time i went to adventure island and on this ride with my mum + prevision, the ride faulted at a small hill and punctured a literal hole in my mums arm, and bruised both of mine, but today it went down it smoothly. thank god.

after getting off, we went on a sky drop. there was another one that had just been made which we planned to go on after. there was a problem with R and how small the seat was so she had to switch to one two seats away from me. the ride itself is pretty tame, but i have a weak stomach so it didn’t feel great lmaoo // from what i remember, afterwards we went round to the rage exit to get a time to come back and get on. it’s hard to explain but that’s how the ride access works. you go up to rides, ask for a time to come back, they add on how long they think people have been queuing in the general queue, and then you come back after X amount of time. so quite a lot of the time me, R and A were waiting at the table/going on smaller rides to pass time.

so, we went back to the table [J & A left] and came back to rage after around 40 minutes + the walk to the ride. i didn’t really fancy going on again, and A didn’t come altogether, but R wanted to do it did for her, although my head was still hurting from the last time we went on. this time, i was smart enough to put my necklace in my pocket. even going up the lift hill gave me more of a headache. and because my neck was still weak i couldn’t really keep my head back to the headrests, so my head was banging on the shoulder restraints. my vision also kept on going completely white. we both felt really shaken up afterwards so we went back to the table and everyone had something to eat. me and R decided to go on some tame rides to calm our sickness. it’s weird that i felt so bad afterwards, im completely used to going on big rollercoasters like the smiler, saw, etc, it’s just so rough.

we went on this mini ferris wheel and it was freezing. it took ages for everyone to be loaded on and while the people at the bottom are getting on, your stuck at the top above the sea, where you get all the wind. behind us was a guy wearing an exodus shirt which was cool, R didn’t think so though. she was making fun of him. carrying on, the ride eventually started and it was actually really calming. [photo at end] you could see the sea and the rest of the park nicely from up there. at this point i was getting more and more exhausted because i forgot i had a monster and i don’t ever wake up as early as what i did and then be full on all day. it finished at 3:10, and then we got the time for the ride beside it. R had been on before, but i hadn’t. i say that, but i definitely have - i just dont remember. the worker said ten minutes so we sat at the table [i rested my head in my hands and nearly fell asleep], and came back at 3:22. it was once again a kids ride, but i genuinely think it was faster than rage. and that has a loop. it accelerated so quickly i genuinely thought the controls had gone haywire.

but, this made it fun. it was the best ride i went on. while we were at the table beforehand, we decided on that being our last ride, so once it finished we packed everything up. we left the official premises at 4 and then got the adventure island fish and chips outside at 4:10. i didn’t have much because i couldn’t check the calories and i could already imagine how bad they were. i didn’t want to seem rude though, as R’s mum had paid half 70% of the price. while we ate, R’s stepdad walked to the car to drive back round to the seaside where we were sitting and pick us up. i noticed a lot of seagulls sitting on the rocks around the kid area of the sea so i took a picture of them with my camera. [photo at end]

i couldn’t zoom in as much as i wanted to because my lens was switched over from the normal setting. i just took it for the fun of it so it’s in no way how i usually take photos, the lighting on the rocks isn’t bad though. he got there at 4:30 and me and R listened to our playlists on the way back again. what came on shuffle on the way home was: patrick stump, panic! at the disco, silverstein, mccafferty, and get scared. we arrived back at my house at 5:40 and i cuddled boris for however long hopefully wouldn’t be considered disrespectful to guests. i also realised that he’d finally had his itch treatment yay!!

i asked my parents how he got along with it and according to my parents, he was vocal, but not agressive out of stress like he usually is. i’m so proud of him. then i went upstairs to my sisters room because that’s where R was. she was just on her phone so i sat on the floor and organised the photos taken today into picture collages. i stayed up there until they all left at 7:40. R was getting mad at me for sitting next to her anyways. once they’d started heading home, i went out to boris, showed my dad some band stuff, and then wrote a lot of this journal. i did this until 9:30 where i went outside properly with boris. i did go and see him every now and again while journaling but not for extended periods as my phone literally wont charge. i came back in at 2:10. while i was out there i noticed there are baby ones of those generously sized spiders that hang out on the driveway at night.

once i was back in the warm, i asked my parents if they had any receipts for my collage as i only had my coraline 3D receipts + a small cutout from the card that came with my insect stickers. it just shows each individual one so you know which ones you’ve got. my dad had an asda/primark/petrol receipts and my mum gave me the leftover paperwork/receipts from adventure island. i finished at 10:45 because it took me ages to work out how i wanted the collage to be set out and whatnot. either way i like the colour combo. [photo at end] after finishing, i went out to the kitchen to sit with boris and came back into my room at 11:20 because my phone ran out again.

i wrote even more of this journal and went upstairs to ask my parents questions about boris at 11:35. around this time, my head started hurting a concerning amount so i took some meds. im aware i sound so dramatic right now but you don’t understand how torturous that ride is until you’ve experienced it and the feeling afterwards. my eyes kept on going cross eyed and parts of my vision were cutting out. i do know i’m not the only one who feels like this after rage, though, because while we were waiting to go on for the first time a woman came off and she could barely walk afterwards. however don’t know whether my eating or sleep contributed/s to how bad my head is feeling. i finished my questions at 1, wrote a few paragraphs of this, and then said goodnight to boris.

i didn’t tell him about my day as my parents told me to tell him tomorrow so my head wouldn’t get worse so i gave him a little spoiler and cleaned the dog food can tabs in the sink. im going to somehow make a flower looking chain charm out of them. i did this while speaking to boris/apologising for going out, things like that. id shown him my collage earlier so i took some different shaped can tabs, the big dog can ones, my collage book, and a j20 bottlecap into my room to put into their assigned places for when i make stuff out of them. [photo at end]

then i went back out to boris and finished saying goodnight to him. because i cant stroke around where his ointment was applied [his neck] its quite a struggle to cuddle him the way i usually would, but i eventually finished at 2:24. i was supposed to be super quick as i wasn’t telling him about today, even though i always wish i could be longer. i then gave him his last meal of the day and he went in my room 3x times while i was awake. my head was still in excruciating pain despite the paracetamol so i went to sleep at 2:50 after finishing this journal. i kept on falling asleep and letting go of my phone/almost deleting paragraphs at a time. so i hope all of this still makes sense.

🗝️ — boris/my cat, prevision/keyworker i have to see instead of being taken back into mainstream education, questions about boris/i ask my parents questions about my cat to verify he's okay + will be okay in the morning. its a compulsive thing and i'm hopefully going to be tested for OCD in the future.

have a good day/night O_o

[issacballsac]

Never One Without Two!

Octavian

Male Reader

-

Gleaming the streets with your self deprecating nature shining through your chosen circle. Where he went so did you and vice versa.

Today had happened to be one of the few days the both of you were not plaguing the lives of everyone around you. A simple hangout day.

Deviating from typical augur duties the frail boy sat with you in your bedroom watching various sitcoms. Though there wasn’t much watching on your part as his avid need to chime in with his verbal opinions on the characters’ decisions made it impossible to hear anything else much less concentrate.

Several sighs later and the two of you switched to scrolling aimlessly on TikTok in search of something, anything entertaining to watch.

“…Packing my tumblr to go on a…hot girl walk?”

“Y’know this is the only time I actually wanna hear your thoughts on this.”

“I don’t have any thoughts to share with the likes of you. But, honestly is all of that really necessary?”

“EXACTLY.”

Only stopping with criticism to stalk the rest of their page to see what else they had to offer, before you sprung up an offer of your own.

“We should play Murder Mystery.”

“Can’t, I’m still banned, it ends tomorrow though.”

“Damn why can’t you not be banned for a day that I actually wanna play a game.”

“It’s not like I was in the wrong, the moderation is just stupid.”

You couldn’t even escape Octavian’s rash decisions ruining your plans in the digital world much less the real world. So with dwindling activities to participate in your brain for the first time in a while went into overdrive.

“Alright get up, we’re going out.”

“Why would I go out with you?”

“You wish you could get with me. But, I’m talking about actually going out, like outside.”

“Where?”

“If I tell you it won’t be as exciting. Now stop asking me questions.”

Grasping his dominant hand the both of you flew out the door. With your eyes dead set on the mysterious hangout location.

“A cafe? Really?”

“It’s a casual thing, consider it a date.”

“Why would I want to go on a date with you?”

“I love you too man. Anyway we seat ourselves here, so, sit down.”

Reluctantly your date to be sat down and shut up for a graceful minute, overlooking the menu. Keeping a longing stare above the menu.

“Y’know I’ve never realised how freaky your pearly blues are. They’re really piercing through my soul.”

“Quiet.”

“Look I love ‘em on you but it’s kinda crazy. Deadass.”

A silent scoff left his breath. Just as a waiter picked up on your situation and swung by.

“Good afternoon, what can I get for you boys?”

“Hello, I’ll have a cup of mint tea and—maybe a croissant or lemon cake?”

“I highly recommend the cakes here they’re absolutely amazing.”

“So he’ll have that lemon cake, and I’ll just have a coffee, cappuccino.”

“Good choices I’ll get that out in for you guys!”

“Thanks!”

With a short pastime the beverages and cake is bought out. Granted with a simple ‘enjoy’ the waiter swayed from your table.

“Everything looks so good!”

Clasping your hands together paired with closed eyes in thanks. Your short thanks ended abruptly as your eyes opened to see a spoonful of your cake missing.

“What the fuck.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t ’hm’ me you big back bitch. Order your own cake.”

“There is enough for the both of us, why do you think she gave us two spoons? Sometimes your intellect escapes you I swear.”

“No you ass. She gave ME two spoons. One for my cake and one for any sugar to put in my tea.”

“You don’t put sugar in your tea. So the spoon is for me.”

“Yeah? Well she wouldn’t know that. So the spoon is mine. If you disagree any further I will drop your skinny ass right here and now.”

“Crude and intimate. Just hurry and eat your food, so I can leave I have work to do.”

His harsh words would’ve come across in a more offensive way if he truly wanted to leave hastily. So you sat in a comforting silence enjoying your food, occasionally giving him some of your cake.

Idk how to end short stories ngl