#i was actly giggling so hard

[wonustars]

as someone who’s been playing val since 2021 this nearly killed me

Chat, is that Rizz? | jww (m)

Pairing: Streamer!Wonwoo x Streamer! F.reader 

❀ Summary: Your rivalry with Wonwoo has existed for as long as you’ve been streaming. It’s fun, and both of your communities love it. Wonwoo is happy to play along - at least until you question his rizz while live, and he feels like he should remind you just how much rizz he has.

❀ Word Count: 5,366

❀ Genre: Established Relationship, Faux Rivals 

❀ Type: Smut, a hint of fluff

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: This is so cheesy and stupid and I don’t care!! Explicit language, teasing and light antagonization, gamer and streamer speak in spots, sexually explicit content including spanking, fingering, unprotected sex, hint of overstimulation, playful banter and teasing during sex, bodily fluids, soft dom if you squint. UNEDITED.

❀ A/N: I don’t care that parts of this are kind of cringe, @daechwitatamic tells me to write so I write and I needed to  get out of a writing slump. Yes the game they are playing is Valorant. No I did not call it Valorant. Have I played Valorant in the last year? No! Anyway, please enjoy this shameless porn no plot! Also please don't arrest me for the fucking TERRIBLE puns.

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀

“You’re never going to hit Immortal with that strat, Wonwoo,” you tease, cringing as he gets gunned down by the enemy team’s Reyna. “Rotated too early.” 

“Here they go,” Seungcheol mutters into the mic, his exasperation making you grin as you fix your eyes on the screen. Like both you and Wonwoo, Seungcheol has already died in the round, watching as Mingyu navigates the map to pick up the bomb to attempt to save the round. 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you while you were dead,” Wonwoo shoots back. You scrunch your nose, knowing that it is, unfortunately, true. “I was in the land of the living. You know. Because I didn’t dry peek long and die.” 

“Seungcheol told me to push site!”

“Maybe push with util, though? Or be better.”

On the right side of your screen, you can see your chat blowing up. You grin and roll your eyes - you aren’t actually bothered by Wonwoo and you know he isn’t mad either. Playing games with him always elicits teasing and a steady back and forth.

Once upon a time, his poking might bother you. Now, you’ve played enough games with Wonwoo over the last two years to know better. It’s all in good faith, and it’s part of the joke, this ongoing way the two of you bicker and go tit for tat. 

“I am nothing if not an accommodating teammate,” you offer back. Mingyu manages to get to the site, swinging wildly to check for enemies. “I’m a helper. I like to help people.”

“You can help me by shutting up,” Mingyu mutters. 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo echos, a smirk prominent in his voice. “Shut up.” 

“No I’m talking to you too,” Mingyu assures. “And you did rotate without me and too early. So she’s right.”

That shuts Wonwoo up, a chorus of laughter echoing in the headset as your team watches Mingyu try and go for the clutch. Your laughter fades and you mute yourself on Discord in an attempt not to distract Mingyu, eyes flicking over to the comments flooding in on your stream.

It’s a rewarding feeling to see how many there are, donation notifications popping up on the top of your screen making your heart stutter a little. You can see Seokmin moderating as usual in the chat, reminding people the commands for frequently asked questions and removing anything weird. 

There is a lot of weird. 

“Thank you for the dono, Shaezy98. Yes, PiCheolwinning, I hit Immortal a few days ago! What do you guys think about doing a nonstop stream until I hit Radiant? Would that be fun?” 

Resounding yes responses flood the comments. You grin, pulling your legs up into the chair to make small talk with the community you’ve so carefully built over the last few years. You see a suggestion in the comments that makes you laugh, leaning forward to unmute yourself in Discord. 

“Hey Wonwoo,” you ask. “My chat wants us to try 1v1 where we customize each other’s settings. Thoughts?” 

It’s a common question. People love the dynamic you and Wonwoo specifically have, enjoying seeing the friendly rivalry grow over the years. You can recall several streams you’ve done just playing together, hosting charity events and promoting new games as a dynamic duo. 

Some wonder if you’re together. There’s no hard evidence, but there's chemistry there. A lightness to your banter that comes with a familiarity your fans try to piece together, a gentleness that sounds the edges of your insults to make sure the other knows your kidding. 

Wonwoo lets out a deep hum. “You’re gonna go demon mode on my settings. Then I’d have to change them back.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. Of course he’s worried about his settings, as if he can’t export them. “Is that a no?”

“What’s in it for me? Besides my fucked up settings and the risk you change all my weapon skins.”

Clearing your throat, you put on your best telemarketer voice. “The benefits to this offer are endless. For a limited time only, you can take advantage  of quality time spent with me-” 

“Not a benefit.” 

You ignore his interruption, a vein in your forehead ticking at the comment. “You can protect your honor and pride as a gamer, and as a special early bird offer, I’ll give all donations from that stream to a charity of your choosing. Thoughts?” 

Mingyu ends up losing the round, earning a resounding sigh and curse from everyone on the team. You move your mouse around to click through weapons and set yourself up for the next round. “They’re going to force,” you say, momentarily distracted from your sales pitch by strategy. “Wonwoo I can buy you a marshall.”

“Yeah.” 

You make the transaction for him and drop the weapon so he can pick it up, noting the comments coming in from viewers.

NoLo88: See, she always does stuff for him - I swear they’re together!!!

EzBoyZ: No way would she date him.

NoLo88: Are you kidding? Have you seen Wonwoo? He’s like the hottest streamer ever.

LoLPog69: Ugh I hope they’re not dating, she’s better single. 

 “See, I’m fun. I’m nice. I’m a team player who helps win games. What do you say?” 

“Fine, it’s a date.” 

The way he so casually says it makes your stomach flip. You hesitate for a moment, blinking in surprise before you realize he’s said it without really thinking about it. Biting  your bottom lip to fight a smile, you ask, “Oh? A date? Chat, is that rizz?” 

“Oh fuck off,” Wonwoo huffs, trying to cover up his mistake. You can’t help it - your smile spreads as he rushes to gloss over what he said. “It’s a figure of speech.” 

“He’s trying to rizz me, chat!”

“In your dreams.”

“You should change your tag from WonuWizard to WonuRizzard.” Wonwoo curses as he gets killed. You cackle, killing an enemy and taking their gun. “Oo, an operator. Do you want this, Wonwoo? What about changing your tag to RizzardOfOz?” 

Wonwoo groans on the other end of the mic and you can imagine the way he pushes back in his chair, sinking a little further down as he spectates the match. “Yes, save the op for me, please. Also, get your chat out of mine. I’m going to get a Rizzstraining order.” 

You note the way he says for me when he asks for the weapon you’ve picked up to keep for him. It is a favor to him, intended for him. Your viewers notice. 

Seungcheol swears. “You two are insufferable to play with sometimes. We’re trying to win a game.” 

Mingyu huffs. “Just stop Rizzsponding, Cheol. They’ll shut up eventually.” 

With a laugh, you settle in and focus on the game. Even as the teasing dies down, you and Wonwoo fall into a comfortable give and take, working together to win the next few rounds and eventually, the entire match after Wonwoo closes out the game with an ace. 

“Wow.” You lean back in your chair, stretching. It’s getting late at night, and you feel a little tired. “Mad Rizzpect, Wonwoo. Up your rizz game and maybe I’ll go on a date with you.” 

“Up my rizz game?” His tone has shifted as everyone starts talking over one another, Seungcheol and Mingyu getting into it over something sports related. You’re focused on the soft purr of Wonwoo’s voice, though. The raspiness of it. “If I wanted to rizz you, I would.” 

Fuck. His voice. You shift a little in your seat, clicking around your secondary monitor that is off stream to pull up Wonwoo’s stream. It loads, immediately showing his dark room with slow pulsing RGB lights in the background and shelving displaying different collectible items. 

Wonwoo looks like he always does: leaned back casually in his seat, the glow of his computer reflecting in the lens of his black-frame glasses. Dark bangs hang in his eyes, the rest of his hair hidden by the hood that is pulled up over his head. He’s chewing on one of the strings of his hoodie as he talks to his chat, voice gentle.

His hoodie has a little animated version of him over the left side of the chest, the character winking and giving finger hearts. You feel your lips twitch - you always loved the little cartoon version of himself. As always, he looks totally at ease. It’s the same even in an intense game, Wonwoo never feeling the need to lean closer to the screen or showing the tension in his shoulders.

Calm. Cool. Collected.

Except when you can force a rise out of him, of course. 

A bunch of notifications flood in your chat. You look over to them, reading through them and grinning. You pull your mic toward you, shaking your head. “Ugh I have all the Wonwoo apologists in my chat defending your rizz.” 

“Good” he shoots back. You watch in delayed time as he smirks on his end. He so rarely does a full smile, but you know it’s beautiful when he does. “You need to take Rizzponsibility for implying I have no rizz.” 

“No way,” Mingyu gasps. “Two Wonwoo puns in a single night?”

“Puns and attempted rizz?” You ask, cocking your head. “Huge day for Wonwoo fans everywhere.” 

“Again, that wasn’t rizz. You’ll know it when I use it.”  

“Sure, sure. Or maybe you just… don’t have any.” 

You watch the tick in Wonwoo’s jaw. A grin spreads across your face and you try to suppress it, knee bouncing in anticipation as you watch the minute changes in his expression. He drums his fingers on the armrest of his gaming chair, hypnotizing you for a moment. He has long, elegant fingers paired with a beautiful set of hands. 

“You really think I have no rizz?” he asks, voice low and oh you know that voice. You suppress a shiver and shake your head ‘no’ before realizing that he can’t see you. Or he does - because he says, “Use your words like a big girl.” 

If you weren’t on stream, your eyes might roll back in your head at the soft purr of his voice, the way in which he immediately switches gears, put out by your accusations that you already know are false. 

And because you’re you, you push him a little more, interested to see where it goes.  “Are you watching my stream, Jeon Wonwoo?”

“Mhmm. Trying to learn rizz, since apparently I have none. Go on, show the class. What have you got?”

Seungcheol and Mingyu both ooo and quiet down, putting you on the spot. Heat tiptoes up your neck to your ears. Being a streamer by nature is being under the spotlight, especially when you have a high follower account. This is different though, the pressure suddenly flipped to you as your friends settle in, waiting. 

“It’s all about the charizzma,” you joke, voice a little raspy. You swallow, eyes flicking to your secondary monitor where you can see Wonwoo watching his screen with a growing grin. “I can’t teach you how to have that, Jeon.” 

“What can you teach me, Angel?” 

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. You know that commanding tone anywhere, the soft shift from teasing to something a little darker, a little sharper. He doesn’t care that you’re both on the screen for live viewers, that this will be recorded, or that you have friends on the call, who have taken a backseat to watch the fencing match. 

And the angel. Sure, it’s a small part of your brand and gamertag, but the way Wonwoo says it implies something intimate. Darker. A gentle caress of the word against your skin. 

When you come up with nothing, Wonwoo grins on screen, devastatingly handsome. He knows he’s surprised you. “Not a problem,” he quips. “I’m an excellent teacher. I can teach you how to rizzpond to a direct question.” 

He surprises you by ending the stream suddenly. You blink in surprise, both Seungcheol and Mingyu calling Wonwoo’s name, assuming his internet has gone out or has been interrupted. With shaking hands, you remove one side of your headphones, listening. Heavy footsteps sound in the hall and you squeak, hitting the hotkey to show be right back on your stream.

Wonwoo stands in the doorway. He gives you a single, lopsided smirk before waltzing toward you, a predator stalking prey. His dark eyes are focused on you, drinking you in. 

“Noooo,” you yell at him, giddy and panicked all at the same time. You hold your hands out to push him away but he links your fingers instead pressing his palms against yours and pulls you toward him. He jerks your computer chair toward him, your knees crashing against his. “Hiiiii.” 

“No rizz, huh?” his voice is barely a murmur. 

“Ummm,” you glance over to your set up where the be right back glows. Wonwoo follows your line of sight before dropping his gaze back to you, eyes asking a question. “Do you… want to?”

Elation falls across his face. “I’m down if you are. You know that.” 

Chewing your lip, you smile and nod. You’ve long been planning to reveal that the two of you have been dating for a long time, and the present feels right. Not to mention the implication of him ending the stream and you slamming the be right back on at the same time. 

Wonwoo leans down and grabs the arms of your computer chair, spinning it around and pushing you back into the frame. He leans over your shoulder, the smell of sandalwood and lavender enveloping you, making your head spin. He hits the hotkey to turn your stream and mic back on. 

Your eyes drop to where you’re displayed in the camera, Wonwoo leans against the back of your chair, chest pressed to your shoulder as he grins at the camera. Your thighs clench, seeing that same cocky smirk you’re used to making a brief appearance on camera. 

“Sorry chat,” Wonwoo announces. “Sorry Cheol, Mingyu. I have to handle the disrizzspect going on in my own home. Say byeeee to chat, Angel.” 

“Byeeee,” you squeak on instinct, watching as he waves while your comments explode. He closes out the stream and cuts off the Discord call where Seungcheol and Mingyu are screeching, shutting down your computer entirely so there’s no chance for accidents. 

Stomach fluttering, you take off your headphones and look up at Wonwoo to find he’s already staring down at you, dark eyes hungry. You slide down a little in your chair, feeling your mouth go dry. You got what you wanted, but now that he’s there and you can feel the intensity crackling between you, you can’t help but balk just a little.

“What?” he asks, lips twitching at the corner. “Rizz got your tongue?” 

“I guess maybe you have a little rizz.”

“Ohhh, I see.” Wonwoo pulls your seat backward, spinning your chair around so that you face the bed. He lets go of the chair and walks backward, sitting on the edge of your bed. You stare at him, heart beating, breath quickening. “Now that there’s no one here I have rizz.” 

You pout. “It’s our brand.”

“Mhmm.” He leans back on your bed, the mattress dimpling under his weight. He pats his thigh with one hand. “You just love getting under my skin, don’t you?”

You climb out of your computer chair, stumbling a little as the blood starts to flow from where they were crisscrossed. He tsks at you as you regain your footing, padding over to where he sits, legs spread, thighs straining against his athletic shorts. 

Carefully, you climb into his lap. Your body buzzes as you settle over him, one knee on either side of his hips. You lean your weight into him, hands resting on top of his shoulders. Even through his hoodie, you can feel how warm his skin is. 

“Are you happy now?” 

“Huh?” 

One of his hands leaves the bed and cracks against your ass, starling you. You squeak and lean forward, the sting making your eyelids flutter. “You’re not even listening, are you?” 

“I wasn’t.” 

His hand kneads your ass through your shorts, soothing the sting from the slap. “I asked, are you happy now? Did you get what you wanted?” You nodded, letting your head hang down, burying your face in his neck. It’s warm and safe there, your thoughts sticky as his hand continues to explore your ass. “Remember when I said use your words like a big girl?”

“Yes. Yes, I got what I wanted.”

“And what was it you wanted?”

When you hesitate to answer, too focused on your slamming heart and stuttered breathing, his hand comes down across your ass again. You curse, melting into him, letting him bear your weight entirely. “Wanted to rile you up.”

“It worked.”

“I can tell.” 

Wonwoo’s hand trails to the edge of your shorts, fingers dancing along your thighs. You’re hype aware of his touch and the way it sends fire through you, stomach in knots and cunt aching between your legs as he fingers the hem of your shorts. 

“Is it okay that I interrupted your stream?”

The question is so much softer than he was a second ago. You lift your head to look at him. His face swims into focus, a momentary flicker of nervousness. Wonwoo is rarely impulsive, but the move to announce your rivalry is more romantic than most people knew was unplanned and spur of the moment. 

“It’s definitely okay. Is it okay with you?”

He nods, leaning forward to run his nose up the side of your neck. He inhales, taking in your scent and humming while the hand running along your shorts pulls at the fabric. “Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be upset.”

“No. Now the people in your chat know you’re mine.”

“Yours?” His mouth brushes against the hollow of your throat, hot and wet. Your head tilts back, lips parting as his tongue flicks against your skin. “Just wanted to claim me, is that it?”

“Your fans are horny?”

He nips your neck and a moan drips from you. “Yours aren’t?” 

“Not like yours.” 

“Too bad for them. There’s only one angel who can get under my skin.” Wonwoo takes you by the waist and rolls you over. Your breath leaves you in a huff as your back hits the mattress. He leans over you, knees caging you in on either side of your hips as he presses his mouth to your jawline, sucking kisses up toward your ear. “Only one drawback - she thinks I have no rizz.” 

You bring your hands to the hem of his hoodie, desperate to feel him. Sliding your hands under the fabric, you press your palms against his stomach, feeling his muscle flex as his skin warms your hands. His mouth is wet against your skin, teeth nipping your earlobe teasingly, drawing a raspy sound from you. 

“I think,” you gasp as he drops a hand between your legs to press against your clothed cunt, “That she might be wrong about the rizz.”

Wonwoo’s fingers apply pressure, barely circling your clit through the fabric. It worsens the ache between your legs, your thoughts getting scattered as you squirm underneath him. He brings his mouth to yours, stealing a greedy kiss. 

This is the part of Wonwoo that you know only you see. Where the calm and collected gamer turns into an all consuming force, stealing the breath from your lungs as his tongue presses against yours. You kiss him back with equal want, whimpering into his mouth as he presses his fingers a little harder against you. 

“Please,” you breathe against his mouth between kisses. “I know I was mean but please.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m sorry!”

“Are you, though?” He mouths down your neck to your collarbone, the sting of his teeth soothed by the rough pass of his tongue. “You got exactly what you wanted and more.” 

“I ammmm.”

His laughter is rough. The hand between your legs comes up to the top of your shorts, dipping past the waistline to sink downward. He groans when he feels the dampness of your underwear, the way he’s already worked you up. 

“No rizz,” he mutters to himself. You throb when you feel his fingers pull your underwear to the side, knuckles running up your wet folds where he stops at your clit to press down. Your nails scrap against his abs, body tensing under the stimulation. “This is a wet fucking fucking pussy for someone who has no rizz.” 

You can’t think of a response, mind reeling as Wonwoo plays with you properly. You writhe in his hands, melting as his fingers brush up and down your slit before coming back up to gently circle your clit. Your feet kick a little under him, unable to sit still as he works you - teases you. 

Fuck you realize he might do this all night. 

“You have a lot of rizz,” you breath, pressing the back of your head into the bed, gasping in surprise as he sinks a finger into your entrance. Already you’re clenching down on him, wanting more. “Fuck.” 

“I don’t know… maybe I just… lack what you need.”

“No,” you answer quickly. “Just… ugh like that.” 

The ease at which he knows how to touch you makes everything feel tenfold. Wonwoo knows you like the back of your hand, both intimately and mentally. What had started as two streamers annoying one another had turned into friendship at some point - you’d met him at a convention and realized he was far gentler and softer than you imagine. 

That had turned into something further - something deeper. The want when you were around him was something that you hadn’t expected, but it hasn’t gone away since. Even though you get to have him like this, finger stroking your inner walls and palm pressed against your clit, you always want more. Can’t stop wanting him. 

“Want,” you mutter, the only word you can think of. You feel the smile pressed against your skin, the wetness slicking his fingers as he presses in a second, stretching you. Your hips can’t off the bed but he pushes you back down, making you whine. 

“Why should I?” 

“Cause.”

“Not a good enough answer.” 

Wonwoo starts to retract his hand and you scramble, digging your nails into his hip to claw him back toward you. “Cause I love you.” 

“Closer…” 

“Cause I want you.”

“So close.”

“Cause I need you.” 

He hums in thought. “Good enough. Help me take these fucking shorts off.” 

Wonwoo pulls his hand out of your shorts and leans upward. You rip your hands from his hoodie to slide your shorts off, peeling your underwear down as you do. He taps you on the thigh, fingers sticky from your arousal as he shifts higher. You know what he’s asking, scooting backward on the mattress to give yourself more real estate.

His mouth comes back down to yours, lips soft. You love kissing him, tongue tangling as you bring your hands up to slide your fingers through his hair. He makes an appreciative sound, one hand supporting his weight as he hovers over you while the other slots back between your legs to resume where he left off.

Unrestricted by your shorts, he’s able to thrust his fingers properly. Your gasps break his kisses, hips rolling to meet the stroke of his fingers. He’s always been skilled with his hands, able to peel you apart, pressing the pads of his fingers into that sweet spot over and over again. 

His thumb presses against your clit, adding stimulation as he moves it from side to side slowly, aided by the wetness gathered there. You let yourself get lost in him, pressure tightening in your stomach as you climb toward an orgasm. 

Your hands are everywhere - pulling at his hair, pulling at his shoulders, pulling at his arms. He lets you grip at him, lets you squirm beneath his ministrations, letting you have free reign. It’s a favor to you, in a way. He’s letting you get away with your earlier teasing, not drawing it out like he’s known to do, not making you beg.

Moans bracket the wet sound his fingers make in your cunt as he works you to the edge. Your breaths come out in short hisses behind clenched teeth and your thighs squeeze his hand. He’s unfettered, laughing roughly against your ear, breath hot.

“What would your chat say?” he asks. “Huh? What would they say if they knew you fell apart like this? That your cunt melts around my fingers.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, so close to your orgasm that your ears are starting to buzz. 

“All this time they thought we were frenemies. Have no idea I get to have you like this whenever I want.”

“I’m gonna-”

“Yeah, you’re gonna.” His fingers press harder, the pressure mounting further. “Gonna come all over my fingers, yeah? Just like you always do?” 

You do. 

Everything comes together in one, cohesive snap. You arch into him, muscles squeezing, teeth clenched, eyes shut. It feels good when you unravel, coming around his fingers as they fuck you through it, determind to extend your high for as long as he can. 

Your breathing is ragged by the time you start to come down, shirt sticking to your skin and neck and face flushed as you try to escape him. He laughs a little, hand slowing until his fingers are still inside you, pressed deep. 

When you open your eyes, the room is spinning. It takes you a second to focus on him. His head is hanging, gaze focused where his fingers are still shoved in your pussy. You can see your arousal shining on his wrist and feel where you drip down the curve of your ass. 

“A lot of cum for someone with no rizz,” he notes, lifting his head to grin at you. 

“Oh shut up.” 

“Oh?”

He retracts his hand and you make a pitiful sound at the loss. He stands up, suddenly leaving you cold and shivering. He brings his fingers to his mouth absently, popping them between rosy lips as he sucks your fluid off easily, making an appreciative sound. 

“I mean if you want me to leave-”

“No, no! No need for that.” He smirks. “You’re already… here and stuff.”

“And stuff.” 

Rolling his eyes, he peels the hoodie up and over his head. You watch, suddenly entranced by the blue tint on his tan skin and the way his muscles flex when he leans to kick off his sweats. Wonwoo is beautiful, his body made up of equal parts streamlined edges and softness. 

Sleeper build, you’d joke the first time you saw him shirtless. On stream, he’s always hidden in baggy shirts and hoodies. You’d never realized he was hiding a body that was at peak athletic form, oversized clothing giving way to rippling arms and a hard chest. 

Naked, he shuffles back to the bed. You let him pull you out of your top, thankful for the warmth of his hands skating over your chilled skin. Your nipples tighten in the cool air, your toes curling at the sensation as you lay back on the bed and look up at him.

Haloed by blue light, Wonwoo looks like some sort of demon or angel. You’re not sure - perhaps he’s equal parts. His hands reach behind your thighs and lift, pressing your legs upward toward your chest. The stretch feels good but it also pries you open, making you writhe when you feel the weight of his cock on your pussy. 

“Hold yourself open for me,” he murmurs gently. Your hands reach behind the back of your knees, pulling. He gives you a lopsided grin, leaning over you to press his weight into the backs of your thighs, helping. “Stay just like that, fuck.” 

You do as he says. You have no other choice, especially when he presses the head of his cock into your entrance, sinking in slowly. You let out a loan moan shaped in his name as he presses in, the fit tight and the pressure delirious. 

Wonwoo bottoms out, holding himself to you, hips to ass for a second. He presses in all of his weight, the mattress creaking under you as he does. He drops his chin to his chest, curses as he takes a few deep breaths, chest heaving. 

You fuck him up too. You know it and you love it, watching as he looks up at you, eyes glazed over with lust, but still full of love. It simmers right at the surface, so obvious that you wonder how anyone could ever not see it when it’s right there.

Slowly, he starts to move. You suck in a breath, head falling to the side. Your fingers ache where you grip your thighs, knuckles shaking. A light sheen of sweat wicks your legs, making your hold slip a little. It’s okay, though. Wonwoo leans into you, keeping you pried open as his hips fuck into you at a steady pace. 

Each thrust feels like it punches the air from your lungs. You draw in deep breaths when you remember, otherwise distracted with the way he crowds you in, crushing you to the mattress. The feeling of him is insane, your thoughts cobwebbing together, the only word you can think of being his name. 

He pants, his arms scooping around your shoulders to pull you into him. A curse leaves your mouth. He’s got you folded in half, no escape from the drill of his hips, the air turning to static between you. Wonwoo is pressed close and you somehow wish you were closer, wanting to drop the grip on your thighs to hold him instead.

Wonwoo reads you like a book. “Go ahead,” he hisses between thrusts. 

“Thank you,” you gasp, dropping your legs in favor of sliding your hands through his sweaty hair, nails scratching his scalp. You feel him shiver and you do it again, pulling his face to you so that you can brush your mouth against his, barely a kiss. “Fuuuuuuck, Wonwoo I-”

“I know.” 

“Close close close.”

He doesn’t pick up his pace but he throws his weight into you more, fucking you deep and hard. You see stars, squeezing your eyes shut as you slide against one another, muscles aching, lungs screaming. You feel like you can’t breathe but you don’t care, skating the line of your second orgasm so close.

Your heart pounds in your ears. Your breath scrapes your throat. There is a moment of absolute nothing but white noise and then you’re crashing, slamming into your orgasm with enough force to knock your head with his when you lurch forward.

It doesn’t even hurt, the electric pleasure outweighing the knock to your head as his fingers dig into your shoulders, cradling you harder as he pistons faster, getting himself to peak. You go limp, held tilted back as he growls your name and loses a rhythm, breath hissing between his teeth. 

For a moment everything is disjointed until he slows to a stop, letting you unfold but pressing his body down onto yours. His weight is comforting, grounding you as your thoughts wander, a little confused and without navigation as your system reboots from the orgasm, tired and staticky. 

Wonwoo kisses your jaw lightly, a gentle contrast to seconds ago when he folded you in half. 

Slowly, he slides to the side, giving you room to breathe. Your body is slick all over - especially between your legs - and the room cools your over-warm skin. You crane your neck to face him, eyes fluttering open as you come back to, a little more lucid. 

His dark eyes find yours and he grins before tossing an arm over your waist just to keep you connected. You place your hand on his arm, returning the gesture, just wanting to touch him. 

“I think I died,” you joke, voice rough. “God.” 

“Yeah? Hey chat,” Wonwoo hums, a grin splitting his face. “How about that for rizz?” 

- PERMANENT TAG LIST:

@jespecially @asyre @eoieopda @todorokiskitten @pyeonghongrie-main @sebbyswifu

IF YOU DO NOT SEE YOUR TAG HERE AND YOU REQUESTED ONE, IT'S BECAUSE YOUR TAG IS NOT WORKING.

[egotisticaleverything]

High school Party

Bo Burnham x reader

A/N: this has been rotting in my draft for centuries so not requested just needed to finish this and cure my writers block for good !!

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, Bo being unreasonably mean, reader is a down bad loser, almost fucking to prove a point

“Hey-Uh Bo?” I tap the tall boys shoulder, trying to get his attention in the crowded living room we’re standing in, “I wanted to ask if I could have your number- so we could like hand out some time?”

“What?” He says after turning around

“I said could I have your number-“

“I heard you fuck face I’m just not falling for the same song and dance again” he scoffs, taking a sip from his cup.

“What do you mean-“ I sputter out

“I know Chrissy sent you over here to fuck with me alright?” He shrugs “hey hot popular conventionally attractive friend of mine, go over and ask out the weird skinny kid.” He mocks her in a high pitched voice.

“What- no I just want your number asshole the fuck?” I scowl at him stepping back, phone in my left hand, beer in my right.

“Fine whatever. I’ll put my number in your phone. Just shut up.” He grabs my phone.

“Thanks, geez for an apparent ‘nerd’ you sure are a dickhead” I roll my eyes, looking down at my beer.

“Here.” He almost chucks the phone back at me “you win your little dare, pass go to collect 200” he walks away unphased.

“Bo- wait” I grab his arm “could we like maybe hang out some time..?” I manage to crack a slight smile as if my heart isn’t racing

“God you’re a good actress” he turns his head towards me “fine. Lunch. Tomorrow. Text me your address.” He pulls his arm away.

I look down at my phone to see the contact name he’s given himself “Truth or dare”, thought he’d be more original.

Me: I’m not Jk wit u I actly like u dmbas :/

TorD: ok def selling it 2 hard

Me: fuk u

TorD: shut up ur drnk

Me: I wish I wernt so cute cuz if u wernt id kill u

TorD: get sober then u can smd :P jkkkk

Me: u still at da party

TorD: obvi dmbas

Me: meet u upstairs in 10

TorD: no u wont

Me: yes I will

TorD: fine im redy for ur prank or wtver

Me: u still think im jk lol XD

________________________________

———————————

I walk into the room to see Bo sat on the bed “Surprised to see me here?” He jokes “I made sure to scope out the whole room for whatever you’re planning.”

“I’m not planning anything- what is wrong with you?” I am starting to get annoyed at this point,

“Yeah sure whatever-“ I cut him off by pulling him into a kiss, grabbing the collar of his shirt as I straddle his hips on the bed. I slowly bring my left hand up behind his head, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss as he groans. “You’re a good fucken actor.”

“I-… am not-… acting-…” I say between kisses as I lower Bo onto the bed, “you fucking brat.” I heave,

“God you’re something alright…” Bo attempts to catch his breath

“You’re lucky I take birth control” I say as I start undoing my jeans,

“Holy fuck you’re serious about this…” he looks up red faced

“You’re finally catching on, great work.” I scoff “Now what do you want me to do to you?” I giggle, trailing a hand down his chest.

“I-uhm wow” his cocky demeanour has completely disappeared, replaced with a flustered mess of a man who’s almost melting below me.

“What do you want me to do to you?” I ask him firmer this time as I throw my shirt across the room.

“I-oh wow uhm I-I’ve never gotten this far” he stutters and stumbles as i straddle him in nothing but my underwear and bra,

“I can tell.” I cross my arms “now use your big boy words and tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“I mean I really do-I’m not sure I-“

“Just say it”

“What”

“The first thing that comes to your mind”

“I-uh- fuck- I’m sorry” he facepalms, the crimson of his face barley peaking out.

“What-Bo?” I pull his hands away from his face, genuinely concerned.

“Why are you of all people into me?” He looks away,

“I-what do you mean?” I ask genuinely confused, what does he mean ‘me of all people’.

“You’re friends with Chrissy and Grace and all those other really pretty girls-“ he starts rambling “fuck you’re gorgeous, I-I mean that’s the reason I was so defensive…” his eyes drifted towards me, as he obviously tried to not look at my body.

“Bo… why do you think I stare at you every day in chemistry-?” I ask now just as red faced as the man below me “why do you think I spend so much time around the drama club when crew aren’t even needed-“

“What-?”

“Ever since freshman year- Bo I’ve been in love with yo-“ I’m suddenly cut off by a kiss, as he sits up, one of Bo’s hands finds its place on the back of my neck, the other places itself on my lower back.

“I’m- I don’t think I want to rush into this…” he sighs “I think you’re really pretty and fun to be around but I don’t want to take things too fast-“

“Thank god-sorry but I like you too much to just fuck you and prove a point.” I laugh sitting up “so… are you free next Friday after drama club?”

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Peaches

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Avengers - Peter Parker/Spider-Man

Rating: PG

Original Idea: My mom and I were canning peaches.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one is just a bunch of fun. I literally have like nothing else to say about this, except,  “Hands off my peaches!”

^^^^^

The front door to the apartment opened and shut. “Heyo!” Peter greeted casually, strolling into the kitchen where my mom and I were canning peaches. We did it every summer. I’d slowly learned how to pour sugar into the jars and not stack the lids wrong in the pot when we had to boil them to soften the rubber for a tight seal.

“Hey Peter,” Mom replied.

“Hi,” I added, not taking my eyes off the sticky mess that was me stacking peeled, pitted peach halves into a jar. My hands were covered in juice and every time I touched a peach it was goopy and felt like how I imagined brains to feel.

“What are you up to?” Peter asked curiously, approaching the kitchen.

“Just puttin’ up peaches,” Mom answered.

I reached into the bowl in the sink to pick up another peach half as Peter tried to slip his hand into the wide-mouthed jar to steal one from my stack.

I slapped his hand. “Hands off my peaches!” I snapped.

“You don’t even like peaches!” Peter exclaimed. Mom snickered.

“No, but I did not spend forty-five minutes bottling all of these for you to ruin my good work!” I retorted. “If you want to eat one, take it out of the bowl, not the jar!”

Peter dramatically rolled his eyes and made a spectacle of reaching into the bowl to pick up the half that Mom had just placed in. He bit into it, making the sticky juice splatter on my face. I winced and wiped it off on my arm, not trusting my already-sticky hand to get rid of it. I scrunched my nose in displeasure at him as he sighed. “Those taste good,” he commented rapturously. “Nice pickings.” That bit was directed at my mom.

“Yeah my sister has a tree. She lives outside the city a ways but we always go out on a weekend and pick them up at harvest time,” Mom explained, peeling and pitting the next peach while I moved the ones in the jar around a bit to make just a tiny bit more room.

“Really? I didn’t know that,” Peter observed.

“Well now you do,” Mom remarked.

I snorted, taking another half that I hadn’t grabbed before and gently placing it in the jar.

“Hey,” Mom began, “Peter, while you’re here, you might as well help. Want to take that measuring cup and pour a fourth of a cup of sugar in the jar she hasn’t gotten to yet?” Mom nodded at the sugar container, the yellow ¼ measuring cup, and then me.

“Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah,” Peter replied quickly. “Of course. Happy to help.”

“Especially if it means you get to munch on peaches,” I muttered under my breath.

Peter gave me a cheeky wink. “Exactly,” he agreed, taking up the measuring cup.

I watched him gently pour the sugar into the jar, coating the peach half on top and barely managing to keep it from spilling over the edges onto the counter. He had his tongue between his teeth in concentration and his eyes were narrowed. I was reminded of when we did labs in our chemistry class and he was in charge of pouring and mixing. He was a bit clumsier than me (which I thought was saying something since I could trip over air on a flat surface) so he always focused hard on not messing up. It was really cute.

The three of us finished up the next six jars before putting them in the steam bath. Then we started on the next batch.

Occasionally Peter would reach around my shoulders, plunge his hand into the bowl in the sink, and extract a half I hadn’t put into a jar yet. He always did it with a, “Yoink!” that made me and my mom both laugh before taking a bite, letting the juices dribble down his chin with an adorable giggle.

To be fair, Mom was doing the same thing. “One for you,” she’d say, setting a half in the bowl, “And one for me!” And she’d take a bite.

I snorted and chuckled every time one of them swiped a snack.

I was the only one in the family who didn’t like peaches. Dad liked them on his cereal and Mom liked them plain or also on cereal—and then there was me. I’d never been a fan. I liked helping Mom bottle them, but I didn’t like the texture or the taste. Plus I kept feeling like I was handling brains or something and it grossed me out.

Finally we were done, with twenty-four jars sitting together on a cutting board that was doubling as a cooling rack for the night. A couple times one would POP as the seal of the lid took a good hold. Peter, my parents, and I sat down on the sofa to watch the news. Apparently the president was making some big announcement or something. I glanced over at Peter where he was sitting next to me on the couch. “Why did you come over?” I asked quietly. “I mean, you’re always welcome, but you had to have a reason, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. I came to see if you finished the geography homework,” he answered.

“Dude, I finished that in class,” I told him. “It was easy.”

“Well not all of us are geography geniuses,” he whispered sarcastically.

I elbowed him in the ribs. “I’m not,” I retorted. “If anything, you’re the certifiable genius here.”

Peter shrugged. “Whatever you say, little darlin’,” he teased, earning him another jab.

“Shut up,” I hissed.

“Okay. But seriously, can you help me on the homework?”

“‘Course. But you can’t copy.”

“No I won’t,” he promised. “You know me. I just need a little help when it comes to ‘What’s the capitol of Romania?’”

“Bucharest,” I commented.

“Huh?” he wondered.

“Bucharest is the capitol of Romania,” I repeated.

He sighed dramatically and rested his forehead on my shoulder. “See what I mean? You're so good at geography and I freaking suck.”

I shrugged to get him off me. “No you don’t. You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

Peter grumbled but didn’t say anything coherent.

POP!

I yelped and about jumped out of my seat with a, “Gyoh jeez!”

Peter and my parents chuckled.

I sighed and relaxed back against the sofa, listening to the news fanfare as it began. Here it goes, I thought. Time to hear what the president’s big announcement is. Whether or not I cared about the address depended on what the topic was.

POP!

“Gah! You’ve got to be kidding!”

[nickireadstfc]

The King’s Men, Chapter 10 – [Andreil Intensifies]

In which Mission Fix the Twinyards finally kicks off, Nicky values the important things in life (ice cream), Andreil have a Consent Talk, and oh, also the Foxes rule. Natch.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The King’s Men.

After the game is before the game, so the team kicks off this chapter by sorting through the aforementioned applications for new recruits. This goes well by pretty much everyone but Kevin, whose Exy Elitism is making him kind of a little bitch.

             Kevin insisted Wymack put out a second request, to which Wymack demanded Kevin be a little more accepting of strikers who hadn’t been raised to be champions.

Exy-actly.

No offense, but chill, my man.

             Neil didn’t have the experience or insight to argue with Kevin, but he quietly clung to one of the choices he’d made and refused to let it go.

Okay, but do we ever find out who Neil recruited?

I need to know this for reasons.

REASONS.

             Abby stepped in when the argument got too loud and banished Wymack and Kevin to opposite ends of the locker room.

Bahahahahaha. Love me some good Fox mom moments.

In other news – Mission Fix the Twinyards has finally commenced!

Apparently, all is takes to get them to cooperate is to have them shout emotional murder confessions in each other’s faces. Who would have thought.

             “One of these days I want you to tell me how you roped Katelyn into it.”

             “I asked,” Neil said.

             “There goes that ‘asked’ thing again,” Matt said. “Does it mean something different where you come from?”

             “Most of the time, yes,” Neil said.

             The unexpected honesty startled a laugh from Matt.

Same.

Also, a laughing Matt is a wonderful Matt. In this household, we like all our Foxes laughing and happy, thank you very much.

However, of course, one counselling session isn’t enough to fix years and years of Twin Teen Trauma (even if it’s with Betsy and her magical cocoa powers), so the brothers still aren’t exactly BFFs, as the kids say.

             Wymack looked from one to the other. “Is this going to be an ongoing thing? I need tot know how to plan around you.”

             “No,” Andrew said.

             Aaron flicked him an irritated look. “Yes.”

BahAHAHA.

Wonderful.

In a rare occurrence, the Foxes get a night off, which everyone takes as an excuse to kick back and relax.

In Kevin and Neil’s case, this means marathoning Exy games and taking notes like fucking nerds.

Nicky, once again, manages to be my fictional voice in this universe:

             “It’s Friday night and this is how you’re entertaining yourselves? Give me a break! Think about something else for a while, would you? Like ice cream.”

SAME, MY DUDE.

Nicky, in a brave attempt to distract Neil’s nerdy ass (as we all know, all hope is lost on Kevin), tries to convince him to go to the store with him, which of course – works?

             Neil looked at Andrew and thought about Nicky’s worried appeal last fall, the warning that one day Exy wouldn’t be enough on its own. (…) Neil built his life around Exy after his mother dies because he needed something to live for, but Neil wasn’t alone anymore.

BITCH I’M CRYING.

I am SHOOKETH.

And all of this over ice cream.

The food of gods, my guys. The food of gods.

Also: Nicky apparently isn’t on Andrew’s insurance policy anymore and doesn’t have the keys to the new car either? Which means Andrew didn’t just give Neil permission to use his car, but gave it only to him?? What kind of gay FUCKERY????

I can’t believe I’m really out here having feelings about car policies. What the fuck has this book done to me.

Speaking of gay shit!

You thought we were done with a little angsty kissy-kissy on the rooftop?

SHIT NO.

THERE IS MORE.

             “Question,” Neil said, “when you said you don’t like being touched, is it because you don’t like it at all or because you don’t trust anyone else enough to let them touch you?”

HELL yes, this is what I am about.

Give me that sweet sweet consent talk.

             “It doesn’t matter to a man who doesn’t swing,” Andrew clarified.

             Neil shrugged. “I don’t because I’ve never been allowed to. The only thing I could think about growing up was surviving.”

Hell yeah again for Neil not having a Gay Freakout over this <33

Only like, a General Life Anxiety Freakout, but when does he ever not have that one.

             Maybe this was why this was in that gray area of what was acceptable. It didn’t matter that Andrew was a would-be sociopath or a man; the idea of Andrew was so intertwined with the idea of Neil’s safety that this too was a means of self-preservation.

That’s… kind of poetic, actually.

Damn, Josten.

             “I trust you.”

             “You shouln’t.”

             “Says the man who stopped.”

Ohhhhhhhh, you clever boy, you.

I LOVE this.

Please know that I am giggling gleefully, almost manically, during this entire exchange.

             “So are you completely off-limits or are there any safe zones?”

             “What are you hoping for, coordinates?”

             “I’m hoping to know where the lines are before I cross them,” Neil said, “but I’m open to drawing a map on you if you want to loan me a marker.”

Bless these boys and their sass at all times.

Also DID I MENTION HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS CONSENT TALK I DON’T THINK I DID.

Seriously, this is so, so important and so, so wonderful.

             “I’m still waiting for a yes or no I actually believe,” Andrew returned.

             “Yes.”

BITCH, YES.

             “It’s fine if you hate me,” Neil said.

             It was the truth, if a bit of an understatement. So long as Andrew was only physically attracted to Neil, this was safe to experiment with. Neil’s death wouldn’t be more than a faint inconvenience to Andrew.

My boy…

Yeah right. A faint inconvenience, my entire fucking ass.

             “Good,” Andrew said, “because I do [hate you].”

Again – yeah right, my entire fucking ass.

             “Stay,” Andrew said, and leaned down to kiss him.

And the next part I’m sparing you all because this is, frankly, unholy.

I want to quote everything.

I want to quote nothing, and let us all treasure the absolute gloriousness of the following makeout session in peace.

Because honestly – I read a lot, and I read a lot that has kissing in it, and this is still one of the best, most real, most heartfelt-without-being-tacky descriptions of kissing I’ve ever read. All the kudos to you, Nora.

I am way, way too invested in this pair by now. Holy shit.

All good gay things come to an end, though, and eventually Nicky comes back, diverting the good gay things with ice cream and horror movies.

But – our boys don’t quite walk away from their, ahem, encounter quite as unscathed as they’d like:

             Andrew had stayed by the door after letting Nicky in. Thinking that Andrew needed space and time to regroup the same way Neil did almost wrecked Neil’s attempts to get his neutral façade back together.

This is the most beautiful shit I’ve read all chapter, what the fuck.

Any time we see indicators of Andrew not being an Emotionless Void With Arm Bandages, I gain +5 years to my life expectancy.

Phew. We survived the gay shit once again, folks. What’s next?

Oh yeah.

SPORTSBALL.

More specifically, Neil and Kevin have an argument about whether to be a Technical Mastermind Player, The Very Best, Like No One Ever Was, or whether to be an Intuitive, Impulsive Heat Of The Moment Player, Because Fuck You Kevin.

Basically, Kevin wants to bone the perfect game, while Neil wants to bone the suspenseful game.

Oh, guys.

(Watch me revive year old memes at all times, watch me.)

In related Sportsball News – the Foxes have their first death match coming up!

And apparently they’re… Crushing it?

             When the Foxes hit the court February 9th, no one was expecting the fight they brought to it. (…) The sportscasters were shaking their heads in amazement.

             “I’m not entirely sure who we’re looking at now or what they did with last year’s Foxes, but they’ve completely blown me away.”

BITCH, ME TOO.

Also hah, we almost made it exactly to the date again – three days late, but this is still such a nice touch to be reading this in almost real time.

             “This is the kind of synchrony you’d expect from top-notch schools. A few weeks ago we all laughed when freshman Neil Josten said the Foxes were raring for a rematch with the Ravens. No one’s laughing now.”

Hell fucking YEAH for my children. I am such a proud soccer mom.

Exy mom. Whatever.

             The seniors exchanged a long look, exhausted and triumphant. (…) The girls came to Palmetto State University knowing it’d take work to salvage that sour reputation and knowing Wymack was their only ally. (…) Despite every loss and every roadblock, they’d made it, and now they were finally getting the nod they deserved.

Uhm, YOU GUYS IMMA CRY.

Honestly, this bit right there just got to me. These three fought so hard, wading through patriarchal bullshit every day of their lives and going on still, and now they finally fucking made it, and we get to see them as a unit, standing proud.

More love towards our Fox girls always, y’all.

TREASURE THEM WITH ME.

(Also, did I mention I’ll be cosplaying these three ladies with two friends of mine at a con here in Germany next month? With full jerseys? And did I mention I’m hella excited? And does that heighten my feelings over this bit hardcore right now??

Absolutely.)

Back to the death match – hey, remember last book when Andrew actually gave a shit about Exy for 0.2 seconds and pulled some really sweet stunts?

Apparently, our boy has decided to up his Giving A Shit game to 0.3 seconds now, because I manages to give Neil a goal shot by – hold on – making Nicky take a red card for fucking flooring a dude, taking the penalty shot, deflecting it like an absolute badass, and clearing the ball all the way up the long ass court.

Holy shit, my dude. Do I want to see what you’re like when you give 0.4 shits, or even one (1) entire shit?

Unbelievable.

Also, there is a description in there of Neil running “like his father was on his heels”, and if that isn’t the funniest, most unexpected bit of gallows humour I’ve seen in this chapter I don’t even know.

             [As the match went on] Andrew stopped every shot on goal and bounced a couple rebounds off the strikers’ helmets just to rile them further.

Andrew, I love you.

And of course, what happens as soon as Andrew moves so much as a little finger?

             The buzzer sounded on an eight-three win. They’d dominated their first death match and were on to round three for the first time ever.

HECK FUCKIN’ YEEAAAAAHHHHHH.

Sadly, even though he may give a tiny bit more of a shit on the court, as soon as the game is over Andrew is back to being his angsty self. Shame.

Petition for their final game to be the one that finally gets through to Andrew, please.

However, Nicky more than makes up for his mood.

             “Can you believe it?” he asked, amazed. “We are such hot shit sometimes!”

Nicky, never change. <3

When they go back to Wymack And Abby’s for a mandatory team celebration, there is another bit of Quality Nicky Content that had me in absolute hysterics:

             Matt commandeered the sound system in the other room. Nicky and Allison argued with all of his choices and each other, but they didn’t sound serious so Neil didn’t intervene.

I cannot, cannot stress how much I love this.

PARTY DJS NICKY AND ALLISON. GIVE ME THEM SWEET FANARTS NOW.

Brb, making a playlist instantly.

Neil, sadly, isn’t super hyped about choosing the latest bops, and goes in search of his boyfriend instead, who he finds sitting on a car gazing into nothingness – as one does when one is Gay, Angsty and Dramatic.

             “We won,” Neil said. (…) “Would it kill you to let something in?”

             “It almost did last time,” Andrew said.

YIKES.

Hope your foot tastes good, Neil, because you just put it real nicely in your mouth.

             “You sound like a wind-up doll with only one topic,” Andrew said. “I have nothing to say to you.”

             “If I talk about something else, will you talk to me?”

             Andrew quirked a brow at him. “Can you talk about something else?”

Oh, burn.

One last thing before we go –

             Halfway across the lawn his phone went off. Neil was annoyed enough to answer tonight’s “28” in his inbox with an “Enough”.

             No one responded.

Seriously guys, what the happ is fuckening.

If you like what I do here and you want me to continue writing fun things for you, why not buy me a coffee? Every lil bit helps, getting me through uni and all that jazz. Thanks so much!