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gublershrry · 3 months ago

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Wicked Games • B.E.

Summary: you’re tasked with tutoring Billie, the girl that’s notorious for being a playboy at your school. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into with her.

Warnings: smut, dom!billie, innocentish!reader, gxg, fingering (r receiving), squirting, dumbification, fuckboy!billie (ish) (by request), college billie and reader, i think thats it

When you walked into class on Tuesday, the last thing you were expecting was to be called upon by your professor to stay after. You were the perfect student: your GPA never falling below 4.0, your assignments were always turned in on time, and the only time you missed a class was when your roommate was sick and you were afraid to leave her alone in the dorms.

So truthfully, even after you racked your pretty head, even with all of the knowledge in there, you had no idea what this could be about.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. The entire lecture consisted of you bouncing your leg up and down at a rapid pace, biting your nails until they were red and raw, and twirling your hair until you swear it could’ve all fallen out.

Finally, when the professor dismissed the class, you stood up shakily and made your way to his desk at the front of the lecture hall.

You, and the girl that sat all the way in the back.

“What is she doing here with me?” You think to yourself, wondering what similarities you two may have. The girl in the back of class was taller than you, with black hair covered by a bandana and a backwards cap. Her eyes pierced yours with the same confused look on her face.

“I don’t know why the fuck you’re here either. I’m probably here ‘cause I’m failing, dude.” She says, her voice soothing your ears.

She looks you up and down, taking in your comfortable yet put together outfit. You silently thank God that you decided to actually wear something presentable today, since last night was finally a night where you didn’t stay up studying until early into the morning. You push your glasses up a little farther up your nose, smiling at her comment. Still confused on why you’re here, the professor finally turns around and looks at you.

“Hey, have you met Billie?” He asks, looking at the girl next to you.

“Just did, Professor. Can I ask why I’m here?” You silently note the girl’s name. Billie. You feel like you’ve heard that before.

“Well, listen. I know you don’t need the extra cred-” your professor starts. You cut him off.

“I’ll do it, I can always use it. What do I need to do?”

The professor looks at you, then looks to Billie, who isn’t even looking up at the conversation happening in front of her.

“You need to tutor Billie. She’s failing.”

Billie’s head snaps up, an angry look taking over her face.

“Uh, fuck no. I don’t need anyone telling me shit.” She rudely remarks. Your heart sinks. You want this extra credit.

And you kind of want to get to know Billie.

So when she quickly pivots toward the door, her long strides taking her out of the hall to God-knows-where, you turn to your professor, mouthing “I got it,” and chase after her.

“Bil- Billie! Billie wait!” Your short legs finally catch up to her, but she’s still ignoring you.

“Billie it won’t be hard, but I’ll help. We don’t even have to meet a ton.” You beg. The extra credit would look great on your resume for internships.

“Fuck off, dude.” You hear her say. You can almost hear her eyes roll.

“Billie please, I’ll do anything, I need this for my resume and you need it so you don’t fail out! I promise it won’t be much.” You look down at your feet as you talk, making sure you’re staying on her tail.

Finally, she stops walking abruptly and turns around, making you run into her chest. You fix your glasses, looking up at her. She glares down at you, picking at her bottom lip with her thumb and forefinger.

“Give me your phone.” She spits, holding her hand out.

You hand it to her, confused.

She types in her contact, and her address.

“Come to my apartment tomorrow if you wanna do this shit. Text me when you’re there. Not about anything else. Got it?”

You nod and take your phone back, letting her walk away. You watch as she pulls a piece of gum out of the pocket of her definitely-too-big jorts. She adjusts her hat and keeps walking, leaving you dumbstruck in the middle of the courtyard of your university, really confused on what you just got yourself into.

————————————————————————————

The next day, you show up to her apartment at 5pm sharp. You text her, but get no response. You hear loud rap music through the walls, but you knock anyways. After about 7 minutes of standing outside of her door, probably looking ridiculous, she answers.

“Hey, come in.”

The stench of weed fills your nostrils and the smoke clouds your eyes. Holy shit. Of course she’s failing. All she does is get high.

You see another girl, half naked, run across the hallway into a bathroom.

Gets high and fucks people, you mentally correct yourself. You feel a sting in your heart, but you can’t quite place it, so it gets ignored.

“Get the fuck out dude, I told you I had shit to do and you’re wasting our time!” Billie yells across the apartment, assumingely to the girl you just saw in a bra and shorts, because she quickly runs out and toward the door that Billie is still holding open, with you next to it.

“Text me.” The girl says before glaring you down.

“Yeah I’ll think about it.” Billie laughs before slamming the door in the girls face. She coughs a little bit before going to the kitchen table and sitting down.

“What, you just gonna stare or actually tutor me?” She says to you, waiting for you to follow her to the table. You stutter out an apology, quickly going to the chair across from her.

“Nah, next to me.” She says. You look up at her confused.

“Sit next to me. Don’t make me say it again.”

You bite your lip and go to the chair next to hers, sitting on the cold wood, and quickly pulling your computer out of your backpack. Hers is already on the table with the class website pulled up. She watches your every move while you scatter to pull everything up. Your multiple tabs distract her, most about classes but some are Pinterest boards, online shopping carts, and shows you’ve been watching. Billie’s intrigued. She studies you, and you can feel her eyes watching your every move. You gulp, and your heart rate picks up. She places her hand on your thigh, making your head turn towards her. Looking up at her with your mouth barely open, your breathing labored as you lock eyes.

“How about we play a game, hm?” She says with a wild, wicked smirk on her face. You gulp harder this time, your eyes going foggy as she brings her hands up higher on your thigh. She leans into you, her lips grazing your ear.

“How about, instead of this,” she whispers, her fingers going in between you and her when she says ‘this,’ “I teach you a little something instead.”

Her words drive you crazy, and you have no idea what to do. You came to study, you came to tutor her. You need the extra credit, you need her to pass. You start to decline, trying to spit out that she needs to focus, but you gasp when her hand travels just high enough to brush the fabric covering you under your skirt.

“I think it’ll help both of us focus, yeah?” She smirks down at you, watching your reaction. Your throat is dry, your face is hot, and you can feel yourself starting to pool in your panties.

“O- okay.” You stutter.

“Not what I need to hear. It’s yes or no.” Billie says sternly.

“Yes.”

“Yes to what? What do you need from me, baby?�� She smiles sickly. “Listen ma, I’ll give you all I got. Just ask nicely.”

“Ple-” Billie enjoys watching you struggle to get your words out. “Please fuck me, Billie.”

And just like that, the switch flipped. She cleared the table of everything; both computers, papers, empty dishes from earlier. She told you to get up on the table and sit facing her, so you did. Your heart was beating out of your chest, and your hands started to sweat. You were so nervous. Nervous to be seen by her, nervous to be fucked by her. She looked down at you with her hooded eyes, stepping in between your legs. Her hand started at your knee, slowly dragging its way up as she spit praises at you.

“Look how beautiful you are, so perfect for me,” “God’ I’m gonna fucking ruin you, baby,” “Just let me motherfuckin’ love you.”

You gasp as her hand reaches your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin. You stay watching her as she tilts your head back. She tells you to open your mouth, and you’ve never listened to someone so quick.

You open and stick your tongue out, not wavering your eye contact. She lets her spit slowly drip onto your tongue, her hold on your neck tightening, silently telling you to swallow. When you do, she moans and pushes you down onto your back on the table, ready to devour you.

She pushes your skirt up onto your hips, looking at the wet stain on your thong.

“All this for me, ma? Already? You’re so pathetic.” She says softly, her breath hitting right where you needed her most. You moan, begging her to touch you. To please you. Telling her you need her.

She pulls your underwear to the side, and dips her middle finger between your folds, slowly dragging upward.

“So fuckin’ pretty, baby.” She whispers before tasting you on her finger. You wiggle under her grip as she sucks you off of her, and she holds your hips down harder.

“Stop moving, be a good girl for me and stay still, okay? Gonna make this last.”

She licks a stripe up your pussy, your back arching off of the table and your hands falling by your side. She calls you needy, and then slowly toys her middle finger around your entrance.

“How bad do you need it, ma? Show me how bad this slutty little pussy needs my fingers.” She tells you, her eyes dark with lust. You sit up onto your elbows so you can watch her now.

You beg, and beg, and beg. You tell her you’re her slut, her whore, her plaything. She laughs at you and tells you how much of a dumb little bitch you are, already so needy after practically nothing. You tell her she’s right.

You are needy. Needy for her to fucking ruin you.

She shoves two fingers into your hole, curling them up before you can even realize whats happening. Your body jolts and you scream with a mix of pain and pleasure. She doesn’t slow down. Instead she watches you. She watches your chest rise up and down at an insane pace, she watches the way your eyes scrunch up when it hurts so good, she watches the way your thighs close when she starts to thumb your clit, the way you start to lose yourself in her.

She stands up now, never letting her pace slow down. She leans over you, forehead to forehead.

“This is a wicked game you’re playing with me.” She whispers onto your lips before violently making out with you. Your tongues mix with each other and she nibbles on your bottom lip. She absorbs your moans into her own mouth, turning her on even more. She feels your back arch, making your tits press against hers. Her free hand moves down your body, feeling your nipples through your shirt.

She can feel when you’re close. She feels your body start to jerk underneath her and she can tell you’re losing yourself. You look up into her eyes, totally lost in them.

“Please, can I cum for you?” You ask in the sweetest voice Billie’s ever heard. She smiles and nods, watching you in admiration.

Billie kisses her way back down to your pussy, attaching her mouth to your clit. She wants to taste you. She wants to feel you cum in her mouth.

When you start to get louder and your breath gets uneven, she doesn’t let up. Her fingers pound into you relentlessly, and her tongue expertly works at your nub. Your body becomes full of white, hot pleasure. You scream her name, you scream for God, you just scream.

“Let ‘em know, ma. Let ‘em know who’s fuckin’ you this good.” She rasps against you, your legs now shaking from the vibration. She can tell she’s overworking you, but she knows what she’s doing.

After all, she’s tutoring you, now.

She feels you clench around her two fingers, but she still doesn’t let up. She holds you down when you try to squirm away. She doesn’t stop. She won’t ever stop. She needs to see it. She needs to taste it.

Her hand goes back to your clit now, quickly rubbing it as she stands up and watches your entire body react to her touch. As soon as she sees your eyes snap shut and your back arch higher than before, she feels it.

She feels you drip onto her fingers, down her wrist. She feels her pants get damp with the smell of you. She slows down her fingers now, letting you catch your breath as she gently kisses up your neck.

“Pathetic baby just squirted all over my hand, how’s that for teaching you something? You made a bit of a mess.” She says mockingly, but all you can hear is your heartbeat in your ears. As you catch your breath, she makes her way down to clean you up with her tongue.

“We-we need to focus now.” You force out, your vision hazy and voice raw from screaming.

“Anything for you, baby. I’ll be able to really focus now that we got that out of the way.” Billie smiles up at you as she licks her fingers clean and sits you up, ready for you to teach her the subject of the class.

————————————————————————————

A/n - this is SO long sorry i couldnt fall asleep so i just kept writing

#billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish smut #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x reader #billie x reader #billieshrry #billie eilish #billie eilish fandom #billie eilish fic

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elizabebabe · 5 months ago

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𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐠𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ꕤ 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡: yoga teacher y/n’s student has her thinking unprofessional thoughts.

minors dni!

| “you got so wet so quickly…been a while since someone touched you baby?”

| “damn — spread open for me, on your mat?”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: use of y/n, pet name, smut with little plot, fingering, f!masturbation, fantasies, horny!y/n, lowk lonely!y/n.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k!

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬: kicking off the remodel with a one-shot !! zabe loves yoga, zabe loves chris, mix em together?

“today we’ll be doing a few more advanced stretches, stretching out your backs, calves and any other tight muscles.” your voice echoed through the studio, your students crisscrossed on their mats awaiting instruction.

you had early morning classes every day of the week but wednesday was particularly your favorite since you got to see a certain student, his name was chris and yes he was handsome but he also cared about your profession or…maybe less about your profession and more about yoga itself.

he wanted you to help him fix his bad back, asking questions, asking for advice, you needed to be professional which is why all your attempts of asking for his number ended in failure.

you turned on your speakers, the usual calm, lyricless music waving through the room, also not forgetting to turn off the lights to give a more relaxed feel you always wanted to share with your students.

“we’re gonna start how we always start, savasana.” you scrambled around the room, stepping between bodies laying atop their personal mats ensuring everyone knew what they were doing.

you took 3-4 minutes to correct anyone making mistakes and marking who could use a bit of help, some days of the week you had kids joining in with their guardian, on wednesdays you have a pretty mixed group of ages so it can be hard to “grade”.

“alright, that’s savasana.”

“come up to ‘mountain’ pose.” you continue, stepping on your mat to follow along to your own instructions, trying to ignore your eyes telling you to gaze at the brunette man in the front row.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

after an hour of tough stretches, your class huffed and puffed on their way out but one man stayed behind.

“hey.” he nudged at your turned back.

“oh! hi.” the interaction taking you by surprise as you never really interacted, “what can i do for you.” you smiled awkwardly.

“well, with the ‘cobra’ pose.” he hiked his yoga mats strap over his shoulder, “i’m struggling with getting my back that low, it kinda hurts.” he says with a cute, loose smile maybe embarrassed by what he’s saying.

“oh no! if it hurts, find a way to make it more comfortable for you.” you gestured with your hands.

“it shouldn’t hurt, maybe uncomfortable but it shouldn’t hurt—“ the rambling of yours continued.

he snickered which interrupted your words, “thanks.” he gently patted your shoulder before turning towards and out the glass door.

the embarrassment he felt now flipped on you as you wanted to crawl into a hole from the exchange.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

your drive home was silent as you sat overthinking about what played on your mind, ‘he just wanted advice, he doesn’t like you.’

‘why did he touch you then?’

‘it was a pat on the damn shoulder, did you see how fast he got out of there?’

you felt crazy as voices in your head fought over something so small, your key turned into the knob of your apartment door, remembering the exam you promised yourself to study for.

you were in community college, typically only having one class a day left lots of time to work on your yoga studio your parents helped pay for.

you threw your tote and mat to the ground, ignoring the thought to change into some of your loose pajamas and sitting at your small dining table for one.

the first few minutes of studying were fine, even taking off your fitted white jacket as you got in the zone. you were able to focus and concentrate on the work ahead of you but that didn’t stop the little voice in your head nagging about him.

you knew his name was chris or at least that’s what he filled out on the forms you had tucked in a random cabinet—

‘this is crazy.’ you huffed before averting your attention back to your notebook.

…

you scrolled through your phone immediately contradicting yourself by looking for different chris’s throughout social media — ‘doesn't he follow the studio's instagram?’

you scrolled through the following list before finding him, his handsome face adorning his profile picture and only a few photos on his feed, but you loved every second of scrolling through them..

adjusting yourself in your chair every so often at the sight of his beautifully crafted face, you couldn't help your fingers sliding past the waistband of your tight leggings that matched that thrown fitted jacket and quickly underneath your light blue panties that you could only hope chris would see one day.

your fingers quickly found your wet folds slipping through the slick and imagining it was the man from your front row, “you got so wet so quickly…been a while since someone touched you baby?” his voice echoed through your head.

the guilt you felt from thinking about him almost warranted you to stop but when your finger accidentally grazed over your clit you couldn’t stop yourself.

the actions continued, one of your fingers dipping into your soppy hole, another leaving airy touches on your clit.

it wasn’t enough, even with his face and his veiny hands you remember pressing firmly into the mat beneath him you couldn’t hit the right spots you knew those long fingers of his could.

but it didn’t stop you from trying, you pushed deeper into yourself once you slid down the wooden chair you uncomfortably sat in the position of your hips reminding you of when you instructed him through a certain pose even showing him a private demonstration, your fingers curling and grazing that spongy spot you aimed for, you remember that day, silently begging him to make a move, touch you in a any way but he never did.

trying to focus on your fantasy as you pumped into yourself made you wetter, “damn — spread open for me, on your mat?” you imagined him laying you down, taking his time while he undressed you, your drippy hole dripping onto the mat beneath you both.

“you’re gonna have to clean this later.” he says, scissoring his fingers inside you, eliciting a moan from your throat.

“gonna think about me when you do it?”

“how wet i get you?” he continued.

“chris..” you grunted as your body buzzed and legs shook, you were close and all because you ��stumbled” upon his instagram, your fingers picked up speed, vigorous motion ensued on your sensitive bud.

the rope snapping in your stomach halting your movements, your mouth agape and sweat dotting your skin.

a certain ’ding’ brought your attention back to your phone.

an instagram dm, a unexpected “can we talk?” from the man you finished all over your fingers for.

second smut baby !! and it’s about my man..

i hate this :( that’s why it took me so long to post bc i was debating whether it was too lackluster but i wanted to post something while i work on longer things, again thank you for the support on ‘southern belle’ and i love you. 🕰️

🏷️ @fratbrochrisgf @3lizaluvs @lily-strnlo @i-love-ptv @venusjaynie @jetaimevous @lizzysmith110 @firexovni @bagsbyclair0

i hope you’re satisfied with your purchase!

#zabe's finest pieces 👚#the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris x reader #chris sturniolo smut #zabebabe

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cthulhus-curse · 1 month ago

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Extra Credit

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 6,020

Warnings: Age Difference, Alluded CSA, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship | 18+ Minors DNI

A/N: Hopefully I scheduled this & the other fics correctly and not for the following year because I may no longer be around to fix it.

Summary: A series of snapshots of loving months alongside your professor which lead up to one of the most difficult decisions you’ve made in your life.

“Good morning, sunshine. Ready for another day of work?”

Although exhaustion ripped through your body, the sound of the woman’s voice made you smile. You learned to enjoy it through the past few weeks. Each day you woke up at what felt like the crack of dawn and went straight to work. Although it was right on campus, an office not too far from your dormitory, you weren’t used to being awake at such early hours. At least the pay was good and your boss was even better, you mused.

“I can’t wait,” you replied flatly. Your boss, Professor Romanoff, came up to the desk you called a home ever since being hired. She held up two cups – one was her usual morning coffee and the other scalding hot chocolate topped off by a mountain of whipped cream. As always, she called you a child for picking that over anything caffeine-heavy. “Thanks for this.”

“No problem, sweetheart. Gotta keep my little assistant awake enough to get through the day,” Natasha chuckled. “Don’t worry, it won’t be heavy for you. We just have to get through grading some papers and then the rest of the shift is yours.”

The smirk remained plastered over your features as she handed you the hot chocolate before moving further in her office. Being the head of the English department at your university, Natasha got her privacy intact. It’s not like she was thrilled to work with her fellow professors anyway.

“I heard there was a big party being hosted by your friends in the girl’s soccer team. I assume you’re planning on going?” Natasha’s tone was filled with curiosity, but never anger when she so much as alluded to your private life, specifically that having to do with one Wanda Maximoff. “I can let you go a few hours early if you need to get ready. Classes are done for the semester and you need to enjoy your college years. I’m sure Miss Maximoff would be happy to see you again. I know she means a lot to you.”

Ever since you had accepted the job as Natasha’s assistant, Wanda had given you the cold shoulder. You had spoken to her from time to time, but only when she came back to the dorm after days of being away, only to leave once again. At first you blame yourself for causing a rift in your relationship, if one could even call it that, but eventually you came to realize just how immature she was – taking a simple job offer did not mean your feelings for her changed in any way.

“I actually haven’t seen her in awhile. She’s staying at Carol and Val’s place I think,” you shrugged while taking a sip of your drink. The way it burned its way onto your tongue and down your throat caused you to hum happily.

“Oh? And how are you feeling about that?”

“I’m taking it pretty well. You know she’s not very fond of you and I think I pissed her off by agreeing to work for who she deems as ‘a fucking witch bitch’. It’s just childish and stupid,” you rolled your eyes at the mere idea of it. “I hate being someone’s second choice like that. She doesn’t even see how much I love her.”

Just like Wanda didn’t see you, you didn’t see Natasha. Your professor was crestfallen at the voices you threw at her. She hated seeing you in such pain, not being able to do anything about the mistreatment you received from your casual fling. The older woman cared for you, perhaps more than she led on – the mere image of seeing you in pain made bile rise up your throat before it was maintained in place.

“Then it’s her loss. You deserve better than that, honey. You’re an amazing, beautiful, and smart woman. You don’t need to be sitting around waiting for someone to notice you. If she doesn’t like you the same way you like her, then it’s time to move on,” Natasha explained as she attempted to keep her own emotions at bay. She threw a sympathetic look your way even if you didn’t notice it. “Listen Y/N, I know we aren’t as close as you are with Miss Maximoff, but I care about you. You are by far my brightest student yet and I see so much potential in you. You don’t deserve to be thrown around like trash, only used when she gets bored with someone else. You deserve the world.”

“Yeah? And who’s gonna give me that?”

The ‘me’ went unspoken from Natasha. She simply sagged her head and stared down at the mountain of paperwork laying in her desk. It would be to no avail if she decided to work – with a brain oozing with thoughts of you, her focus disrupted.

“How about we try something different today? We can work for a bit and then I can take you out for lunch. My treat,” Natasha said. “How does that sound? I just hate seeing you like this, sweetie.”

You thought about it for a second. There was something awfully safe about Natasha. As much as you wished to spend countless hours obsessing over Wanda, sometimes you found yourself humoring the idea of your professor. She was sweet, always protective as she huffed at the idea of you being hurt. At first you assumed it was some sort of motherly instinct, but after having caught yourself staring down her cleavage from time to time, the top buttons of her blouse always open, and she stared back with a smile, you knew something much more intimate lay beneath.

“I’d like that,” you replied, suddenly drunk on Natasha’s presence as Wanda was left behind.

“Good! Now time to work, hon. You don’t get paid to sit all day and look pretty,” the redhead chuckled at her own joke, suddenly feeling much more rejuvenated. “If you finish quickly, maybe we can grab some dessert as well.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

A shudder ran down your body as hands traveled across your back. Fingernails left heavy trails in their wake, surely to be worn with the utmost pride. You hummed, eyes closed while holding still, standing there naked as the day you were born. In the dusk of the room, you let yourself be the center of attention; the center of her attention.

“What did she do this time?” Natasha asked from behind. Her mouth was quickly upon your upper back, kissing its way along your shoulder blades. Never did she lose her tenderness when touching you. “Tell me, darling girl. Use your words.”

You didn’t know when it had begun. One day you were at work standing in front of your boss’s desk before you became trapped against it. The first time Natasha kissed you was then and there. Neither could hold back the attraction you shared for one another. No longer did you prioritize Wanda as you allowed your professor to take you.

“I found her sleeping with Kate. She was…she was laying in my bed, Nat. I saw them and just ran away. She fucked her in my bed!” You sobbed, but didn’t allow yourself to shed tears. Not long before you had promised yourself never to cry over Wanda again. “I didn’t know who else to go to. I just thought of you and ran.”

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry. I hate that she keeps hurting you,” Natasha mumbled back as she hugged you from behind. “Don’t you dare run away this late at night again. You know how much I worry about you. I’m just a phone call away, malyshka. Always.”

“I’m sorry,” you responded before biting down on your lip. “I promise I’ll be good from now on. Your good girl, right?”

“Darling, you are always my good girl.”

Natasha motioned you to get on the bed, your head against a pillow as your ass remained up in the air. She allowed her hands to roam over your backside, smirking as a hand went down against a cheek. It was only a soft hit. Never did Natasha wish to inflict any horrid pain over you. As her eyes noticed the faint bruises Wanda left along your skin, she huffed.

The redhead stood over you. She carried a dildo between her legs that was attached to a harness. Similar to you, she was fully nude minus for the red briefs she wore. Strong arms reeking with muscles held you close. As she inched the toy between your legs, you let out a loud moan.

“I don’t like how she hurts you. I know you like it, Y/N, but she leaves you looking like a piece of meat. Does she even take care of your wounds, baby? Or does she leave you like that after hitting you until you’re crying out for her to stop?” Natasha questioned, already knowing what the answer was. Ever since first seeing your body, she was the one who took care of you as a surrogate for Wanda. “I know I can’t control what you do, but honey, this isn’t right. I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Rather than vocalize your response, you hid your face against the pillow. Natasha slid inside you softly, allowing the dildo to fill you with ease. There was a grunt that you basked upon – it was low and throaty filled with your professor’s longing desire. She used all her force to drag you into a makeshift sitting position. From then on, Natasha allowed herself to, only gently, give you the pleasure Wanda failed to gift you with.

“I want more,” you begged, eyes rolled to the back of your head the further Nat moved inside of you. Movements were languid and sloppy. All the older woman focused on was your own pleasure, not speed or roughness. Unlike Wanda, she took her time getting to know exactly what to do and how to touch you. “Please, mommy, I need more!”

“Whatever you want, my little angel.”

Natasha did not spend time rummaging through the newfound honorific. She beamed at it, but didn’t comment on anything. Instead, she thrust her hips forth fucking you with love that Wanda never gave you. Kisses were spread all across your back. Each grunt, each little noise she made mixed with your own, made you feel in heaven.

Hands gripped your breasts from behind. They squeezed the mounds tightly, rolling erect nipples through the fingers. As Natasha pumped the strap-on in you, your cunt dripping with juices while velvety walls hugged her tight, she brought a hand down your body. Fingertips pressed against your clit and began teasing it, flicking the bud as you screamed loudly – surely her neighbors would hear.

“You’re doing so well for me, Y/N. Just look at how you’re taking my cock. My pretty, little girl,” Natasha moaned when hugging you tight. She nuzzled her face against your shoulder before nipping your skin. There were various hickeys left upon you, signs for Wanda to see if you ever dared return to her. Natasha knew you weren’t hers, but each second she spent with you made her crave you even more. “I bet she can’t fuck you like this, can she? That little…she can’t make you feel this good. Only I can make it better. I’m the only one that will ever keep you safe and you know this.”

When you finally came, Natasha was there to keep you close. She remained frozen in place as your orgasm shot through your body. Not even a second passed before she inched you on the bed, allowing you to rest upon the soft mattress with the dildo still inside you.

“I never want to see you hurt again. If she ever does this to you, if you end up going back, I want you to call me when you need me. I never break a promise,” Natahsa muttered as she placed a kiss over the back of your head. “I’ll always keep you safe.”

From then on, you found yourself hesitating each time you merely humored the idea of going back to Wanda. Even if you told yourself that the relationship with Natasha was nothing more than platonic, you questioned the validity of such a statement. Every second you spend with her, you fall further for your professor.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

“Tell me about your family.”

The two of you had escaped the cruel Bostonian summer filled with never-ending traffic and burning skyscrapers. It was the dead-center of the season and the entire city was plagued by a mix of potential commuters for the various academic institutions or those who, for some reason, decided for it to be her vacation destination.

Natasha had taken you away to a small town across the state. It was remote, small enough so that the two of you could enjoy your life in public without the student body of the university to find you. All you had done was pack all the bags you could muster for the weekend getaway. It was peace which became well-deserved.

You weren’t much of a fan of them, but Nat had always spoken highly of the times she took her sister to pick out peaches ever since she first learned how to drive. The two of them would escape into an orchard in the depths of Ohio and come out with their hands full with fruits. The mere memory she shared with you was enough to get you to agree to her plans.

“Well, there’s really not much to talk about. I was adopted by Melina and Alexei,” Natasha began as though it was the most casual thing in the world to refer to her parents by their given names. “I have a sister, also adopted, named Yelena. She’s the light of my life. A bit of an asshole I must say, but she’s the one I care about most.”

“Yelena Belova? That’s your sister?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows; it was a name similar to that of a member of Wanda’s team.

“Yes. I realize she’s friends with Miss Maximoff,” Natasha replied with apparent dismay. “As hard as I’ve tried to keep her away from that girl, the two are almost inseparable. I trust her enough to not do anything overly stupid though. Lena has always been a bit of a firecracker.”

The two of you walked hand in hand along the orchard. There was not a label to whatever you had yet, but it didn’t care. Natasha was clear when she said she would never pressure you into it. Instead, you allowed yourself to be a free agent who, at times, found yourself wishing to have something more with your professor.

Eyes roamed over the woman’s body. Usually you saw her in professional clothes or the occasional nightgown when you stayed over at her place, but never with a pair of shorts and a loose camisole. There were sunglasses shielding Natasha’s viridescent eyes from the sun, but you had looked into them for long enough to memorize their beauty.

You noticed how she covered her body from time to time, hands over her thighs, cowering away from the nonexistent public that dared gawk in her general direction. It hurt to see. She was the perfect image of beauty to you, but a disgusting void to herself.

There were rare moments in which Natasha allowed you to touch her. She was a fan of studying each and every one of your favorite sweet spots, running hands across your skin before making you giggle under the drunkenness of arousal. The few times you had placed your palms upon her frame you did so in a tender manner – Nat was a porcelain doll under your touch who could break at any seconds. It merely lasted a few seconds before she pushed you off and rushed to apologize for acting out, only for you to shoot her a warm smirk and tell her there was nothing wrong with that.

Shaking your head, you brought yourself back to the present and carried on.

“Yeah, your sister’s always been nice to me though. She’s not as close with Wanda if that makes you feel better. I’ve mostly seen her chasing around that Kate girl. Maybe it’s an underclassmen thing,” you shrugged. “What about your parents?”

There was a pregnant pause, clear hesitation, before Natasha continued.

“Well, I never met my biological family nor did I care about seeking them out. My mom has always been amazing,” Natasha stopped for a second, her hands gliding across the peaches that she carefully eyed. “My father…not so much.”

“Why do you refer to her as mom and him as father?” came your question before you could help yourself.

It was clear her demeanor had changed. Natasha stood with her back straight, hands clasped in front of her as a means to shield herself. She only stared forth into nothingness. Her body was with you in the orchard while her mind went back to when she was a child – to when she was alone with him.

“It makes it less personal,” she finally answered. “It’s also easier than calling him ‘the man whose wife wanted to adopt two kids he never wanted’ and then turned my childhood to shit. I grew up way too fast because of that…that durak!”

The yelp she let out was fueled with emotions you had yet to see. Natasha was rarely angry, let alone emotionally vulnerable to let you peek through her walls. Her body sagged after fighting so long being tense. You could see tears rushing down her face even with sunglasses that covered them, but knew not to make a comment.

“Nat, has he ever…?”

You didn’t want to humor such a thing. Even then, you already knew the answer given her body language and unspoken words. While you fought with the idea of potentially driving to her father’s house and beating him to a pulp, Natasha found herself glad it had been her over Yelena. If something were to happen to her sister, she would never forgive herself. Each time he came at night, the woman sacrificed herself. It was a small price to pay for her beloved sibling’s safety.

“I don’t want to talk about it, baby,” Natasha said with a cracked voice, turning the other way to move further into the orchard. You gave her space knowing that whenever she felt comfortable enough to talk, she would. All you could do was follow along as the professor whispered again. “I’m sorry.”

But behind her broken tone, deep down, you could hear a younger Nat’s faint cry of ‘yes’.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

There were moments in which exhaustion overtook you during long tedious days. You could barely move a muscle and still feel as though life had been sucked out of you. Most of your summer was spent chasing around Natasha, who you remained working for throughout the following months with little to no workload. Being around the woman, doing mere iced coffee runs and chatting without a care in the world while in the office made you feel free for once in a lifetime – for the first time since you met Wanda, she was an afterthought.

Natasha was quick to jump in and take care of you through those moments. She always acted out in small, loving ways when paying for your food, giving you rides, or merely holding your hand as the two of you walked into your next adventure. Her desperation to hold you in her arms and promise you all would be well was intense. There was love radiating from her a mile away which you were far too shortsighted to see.

“Tell me what you need, malyshka. Come on, little darling, use your words.”

After a particularly difficult day, you found yourself safe in Natasha’s lap. There had been no overexertion of your being during that day. It had mostly been relaxing as you worked alongside your professor on a Friday, but when you received a call from Wanda midday, the woman asking you to meet up, you merely froze and broke down in the office – your ‘friend’ only reached out when she needed something from you and it had been nearly a month since you last spoke amicably. After you only hummed as a reply and ended the call, Natasha was there to break your fall.

“Mommy’s here for you. I know today has been a really difficult day and that you’ve felt really stressed, but I don’t want you focusing on those icky thoughts. I just wish she didn’t hurt you like this,” came the older woman’s whisper as she pulled you close. The two of you had rushed out of the office even hours before Natasha liked calling it quits. Even as behind as she was with her future lesson planning, she still prioritized you before anything else. “Use your words, detka. Tell mommy how she can help.”

“I don’t even want to think,” you flatly mumbled with tears threatening to fall down your eyes. Hands gripped the professor’s clothes while your forehead lay frozen in her shoulder. With arms wrapped around your body you finally felt safe. “Please help me forget, Nat. I never want to think about her again. I just-” your words were cut short by a short while your voice was left cracked.

“Shh it’s alright, my darling girl. Mommy’s here to make it all better.”

While holding you tight, Natasha allowed a hand to slip down your body. It snuck to your lap then between your legs. No teasing was found – she knew you how overwhelmed you were and was ready to give you whatever you wished for without question. When naked fingers went past the waistline of your sweats and underwear, landing upon your already throbbing sex, you couldn’t hold back a throaty moan.

You quickly realized Natasha wanted to separate herself from the man who agreed to adopt her. He was rough, violent, and torturous much like how she saw Wanda, whereas your professor never failed to bring a smile to your face even as she smacked your backside harshly — she always soothed the skin with the palm of her hand before carrying on. She wanted, no, needed to break away from his grasp over her mind. Otherwise she’d end up as a battered slave of his once again.

Fingertips brushed against your clit then studied the entirety of your slit while coating themselves in your everlasting slick. Natasha peppered your wet cheeks, filled with desolate tears, with kisses. She mumbled only the sweetest words while easing herself in you. You cried out about your sorrows, about Wanda’s mistreatment over you, while the older woman simply sat there and held you through it.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Anyone who dares make you feel this bad is an idiot. Y/N, my love, you deserve the world,” Natasha said lovingly. She nuzzled her face against your own, foreheads pressed together with fingers knuckle-deep inside your cunt. You couldn’t even muster the enthusiasm to grind on them. Instead, you remained shaking as Natasha made it all better. “You never let yourself be treated like that by anyone, alright? Whether it’s Miss Maximoff or me, or anyone else. My darling angel should be treated as the princess she is. You’re one of a kind, honey, a perfect little bear. I never want you to forget just how valuable your existence is.”

Tears of joy were mixed with your gloomy ones. There were cries of pleasure and internal pain that Natasha never stopped supporting you through. She allowed her lips to touch down upon your own. With your orgasm approaching soon and her tender care, you were elated.

“My sweet baby,” came Natasha’s hushed whisper. She made you come, your back arching while fingernails dug deep into the redhead’s outfit. There was a loud moan, though distant, that boomed across the room. Even as you fell apart, strong arms held you in place. Such a wondrous creature such as yourself, according to your boss, deserved to see the stars. “You did such a good job for mommy. Always my perfect girl,” she breathed out with fingers still deep inside you. “All mine.”

You swore there was a muttered ‘I love you’ thrown somewhere, but with the mix of mental and physical exhaustion raining down upon your body, you merely shrugged your shoulders and fell limp against Natasha. Although you wouldn’t admit it, your heart longed to say the words back – out of everyone in your life, you never expected to fall into the depths of love with your professor.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

“I don’t know why you like this show so much. It’s just senseless killing and at the end they solve everything and go home.”

Although it was supposed to be a relaxing weekend towards the start of the Fall semester, you found the mind boggling statement to fill you with feigned rage. Even as classes began, the arrangement between you and the professor carried on. You still worked for her even if there were no classes in said semester you took with you. As disappointing as that was, you began seeing more of Natasha regardless in more ways than one.

The two of you were sitting on the couch late one Friday night. You were exhausted with your course load and Natasha cursed off the new freshmen she had to teach; they always pretended to still be in high school. A bowl of popcorn was nestled between your legs. While you watched Criminal Minds, Natasha settled for insulting it.

“It’s fun, Romanoff. Entertaining at the very least.” you shot back with a knowing smirk. You had been the one to introduce her to various shows. Who would’ve thought that the great Professor Romanoff was living underneath a rock her whole life?

“Wow I’ve been demoted from mommy to Romanoff. That’s sad,” Natasha laughed before grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Who’s your favorite character?”

“Probably Rossi,” came your shrug. “He’s the guy with the beard.”

“Really?” At the surprised tone your lover let out, you feigned offense. “I thought you’d like one of the girls. What about that brunette with the bangs?”

“Oh, Emily left for the Interpol. I would like JJ, but I don’t know. There’s just something cool about Rossi in this season.”

The two of you remained silent for a few seconds. It wasn't awkward, but then again, nothing was with Natasha by your side. Even if you slipped and fell in front of her, you wouldn’t feel embarrassed. The woman never judged you, instead supporting your every decision while also guiding you through life. You felt comfortable enough with her to be yourself. At times it felt as though it was you and Nat against the world.

“Maybe you just have daddy issues,” Natasha casually offered. Moment passed before the two of you burst out laughing. Tears sprinkled in your eyes while your breath left your body. With the amusement that basked in the room, you both were giggling messes.

“Hey!” you huffed when gaining some of your composure back and lightly slapping Natasha’s shoulder. “We both have daddy issues.”

“Fine, but I have more than you. Mostly because I’ve never actually met my real dad. Maybe he’s an asshole like Alexei,” Natasha giggled. She never failed to look radiant as ever, especially when laughing and seemingly worry-free. You had to do several double takes because the beauty that exuded from your professor was far too enthralling to break away from. As the laughter died down and you were left holding one another, her head on your shoulder while you leaned back against the couch, she spoke. “I want you to be my girlfriend, Y/N.”

You had both agreed to keep things unofficial and yet there was that unmistakable skip of a beat your heart underwent when Natasha spoke her words. Teeth gnawed at your bottom lip nervously. There were striking green eyes which made it difficult for you to ignore the pegged comment. While your heart longed you to reply with a ‘yes’, to finally be Natasha’s forever, your mouth reacted differently.

For the rest of the evening the two of you sat by and finished watching the show. Natasha was silent as she ghosted over her house, leaving you alone in the living room before hiding out in her bedroom. It was the first night in months that you slept in the guest room by yourself. And to your dismay, you went to sleep listening to Natasha’s quiet sobs that escaped the privacy of her bedroom. You had felt bad for Wanda when she got sad about you seeing your professor casually, but listening to the redhead’s woes was synonymous with your heart being squeezed to death.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

It was October when you fell in love.

You returned to your dorm room days later behind the guise of assuming Natasha wished for you to be far away. She had barely spoken a word to you at work. Most of the time she sat by her desk with sagged shoulders, glasses perched at the edge of her nose, and glossy eyes hiding behind the frames. You desperately wished to say something, but when Wanda sweeped back into your life, the guilt ate at you until nothing was left behind.

The Fall semester quickly rolled by. You were at the end of the month and still couldn’t sleep without seeing Natasha’s face tainted in your mind. At times when Wanda lay above you, hips thrusting with straps wrapped around them and letting out low grunts, you closed your eyes and imagined it was the older woman. The memories of her doing the same were soaked with humiliation. You had broken her heart, you knew. Never would you dare forgive yourself for having caused so much pain upon the frail, angelic woman.

“I hate her so much,” Wanda had grumbled when you walked through campus hand-in-hand passing by a certain professor whose sight was solemnly trained on the floor. Your hand was squeezed as your eyes drifted to Natasha. As much as she seemingly hated you, all you wanted to do was run up to her, wrap her in your arms, and bed for forgiveness. Even if it would take ages, she was worth it. “Fucking bitch.”

Perhaps it was Wanda’s comment or the fact that you finally gained enough confidence through your depressive episode to take action, but that night you found yourself standing in front of Natasha’s house. Your roommate was long forgotten and for the first time in your life, you couldn’t care less about who she was fucking. All that mattered was the woman you, without admitting it, had fallen for.

There was a desperate knock upon the hardwood door. There was furious rain which fell down upon your body. That along with the cool breeze of the night made you freeze in place. Still, you felt as though you deserved it. Even then, you’d do whatever it took for Natasha.

“It’s 10pm on a Wednesday, Y/N. Someone better be dying,” were the first words Natasha spoke to you once the door swung open in a low grumbled voice you knew to be from when she awoke. “To what do I owe the displeasure? Did you come here to tell me how great Miss Maximoff is compared to-”

You cut her off by practically tackling Natasha into the house. Even if your body was dripping with the tears of the sky, you clung to the woman as though your life depended on it. She was clearly taken aback and yet never moved away. Instead her arms were left unmoving as you embraced her. That was good enough for you, you assumed.

Putting your heart on the line has never been easy. You were the person who shoved her emotions so deep down that you somehow told yourself Wanda was the one for you. Although she hurt you so much, you still remained by her side. It wasn’t difficult to assume Natasha had felt something similar when you rejected her. She had spent countless months giving you the utmost love and never daring to ask for anything in return. You were always protected by her mere presence until one day you decided to throw it all away. Going to her house, you were without hope of being taken back. There was slight hesitation reeking in your chest, but as soon as you saw your former lover, you swore you fell for her once again – she would forever be worth it.

“I’m the world’s biggest fucking idiot and I admit it. I should’ve said yes to you,” you began. Life had been tedious without Natasha even if only for a few weeks. You hated how only a cold slap in the face in the shape of one Wanda Maximoff could awaken you from such a dismal nightmare. “I hurt you so badly and I never, ever expect for you to take me back. I was an asshole. A svo-lach' if you will,” you could practically feel Natasha’s slight smirk at the mention of a Russian word she had taught you. “I miss you and I don’t think I can do this without you. It’s probably stupid since we weren’t with each other for ages. It wasn’t official and yet I can’t stop thinking about you. I want you to be my girlfriend. It’s always been you, Nat and it always will be.”

No words were spoken as the door was locked and you were dragged to the bedroom. Even if dripping with water, Natasha helped undress you. She threw you against the bed, viridescent eyes twinkling under the dead of the night before taking her rightful position over your body. There was not an area of your freezing body that she didn’t kiss her way through as sudden warmth radiated from her skin and onto yours.

When you first kissed her after weeks of being away, you swore there were fireworks going off. Never had kissing Wanda felt even remotely good or similar. You were enthralled by the way Natasha was seemingly everywhere. Her hands drifted up your body before taking your breasts into her palms and squeezing them, nipples rolling through her fingers before being pinched – she did always have an adorable fixation on your chest. There was a sense of longing within her. The two of you hadn’t been together for far too long. During the rest of the night, you explored what was missed, holding one another as cries of pleasure were let out.

Positions were switched from time to time. Natasha would be on top before you pushed her against the mattress and had your head disappear between her legs. There was nothing to be said. You two communicated through sweet and rough touches, connecting as one without the need for words. There was a moment when you made her squirt, legs shaking as your fingers were dug deep inside her cunt. Natasha was left wide-eyed and suddenly droopy while you lapped at the mess – even when a spent mess, she was the most beautiful woman in the universe.

When neither of you could keep going it was already the early hours of the morning. Your bodies were sore and marked with the reddened tracks of fingernails. It was the first time in ages that you finally felt as though you belonged. Natasha was your person, she was safe, and she was home. It was then that you, while fingers trailed across the back of the woman’s hand, decided never to dare leave her again.

“I love you,” she muttered once you were breathing raggedly, laying back on the bed with bodies intertwined and hearts aligned. You felt yourself crawl out of your skin, frowning as the words were spoken. Without even daring to turn around, you went to grab Natasha’s hand. When squeezing it, you gave her your response.

You couldn’t say it out loud, but she knew then you loved her too.

#cthulhus’ fanfics #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanov x reader

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rafeandonlyrafe · 9 months ago

Text

your friendly neighborhood spiderman

words: 3k

warnings: spiderman!rafe, attempted robbery, friends to lovers, college student!reader, non canon spiderman things (no one tell miguel o'hara!)

huuuge shout out to @ladyinbl00d who inspired this completely <3

“did you see this new video of spiderman?” you question rafe, plopping down on the couch next to him, shoving your phone into his hand, already pulled open to tiktok. the video shows spiderman swinging through various buildings before disappearing into an alley.

“i wonder if that's near where he lives.” you hum, leaning your head against rafes shoulder. “you know, it's not that far from us.”

“what do you think of this spiderman guy anyways?” rafe questions, clicking the power button to get the screen to turn black. he's had enough spiderman for one night.

“i mean, he's like a hero right? he's great. and he protects the neighborhood which is what matters.” you nod, snatching your phone back from his hands.

“don't you have homework?” rafe asks as you begin to scroll again, trying to find more information.

“yeah, but don't you wanna know more? what if it's someone we know?” you gasp and turn to look at rafe. “what if it's someone in our building?”

“alright.” rafe chuckles, standing up and walking the short distance to your makeshift work area in the corner of the living room, pulling your chair away from the desk, “enough with this spider guy. get to work on your essay.”

“spiderman.” you clarify, but set your phone face down on the coffee table and take your seat at your desk, opening up your laptop.

despite rafes family being extremely wealthy in the outer banks, the money doesn't translate as well to new york city, so when you got accepted to a university in the city, rafe ended up renting a smaller apartment for the two of you.

you didn't expect your best friend to come with you, thinking you'd have to adjust to life without him, but rafe wasn't about to let you live alone in a big, often scary, city.

you finish your essay and quickly submit it, not bothering to proofread it as you navigate to instagram on your school laptop, looking for more spiderman sightings.

“y/n.” rafe says, making your eyes widen and slam the screen closed.

“yup?” you turn, a soft smile on your face, knowing you just got caught.

“time for bed.” he points towards your room, knowing you have your photography class early in the morning tomorrow.

“fine.” you roll your eyes. “you know, you're becoming more like ward every day.”

rafe sighs as you shut your door. he doesn't want to be treating you like this, but he knows the sun setting makes the criminals come out of hiding. he just wants to keep you safe and doing well in school, even if he does wish you chose one closer to home.

“neighborhood life.” you roll your eyes, linked arm in arm with your friend kayla. “i mean what does that even mean? you think an intro to photography class would give us more instructions. and then to say he doesn't want pictures of food stands or subways?”

“yeah, our professor sucks.” kayla agrees, camera hanging around her neck to snap a picture at a moments notice, while yours is shoved deep into your bag.

“maybe i can sit out on the fire escape tonight and try to get a picture of spiderman.” you hum, cheeks blushing slightly.

“that's actually a really good idea.” kayla admits with a nod. “i may just do the same.”

“ugh, i knew i never should have shared my idea with you, you bitch!” you say with a giggle, both dissolving into laughter as you reach your bus stop.

“what, you think spiderman is just going to conveniently fly by your window and you're gonna get a perfect picture?” rafe laughs.

you shrug. “stranger things have happened.”

“like what?” rafe questions, placing his hands on his hips.

“like your family finding all that gold.” you look to rafe, watching the way his face changes. you know there's something he isn't telling you about what happened. there's shame buried deep, and you're determined to find out what it is, but don't want to push your best friend and hurt his feelings.

“alright, sit out on the fire escape all night for all i care.” rafe shrugs.

and that is exactly what you do, sit on your windowsill, slipper covered feet against the metal landing, camera placed on your lap, waiting and watching.

the moon is full, shining brightly along with the city lights, skyscrapers that never seem to dull and yellow taxi cabs that never seem to stop running.

you let out a gasp when rafe opens up the window behind you, making you jump.

“sorry.” he says softly, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. “just wanted to make sure you're okay.”

he hands you a cup of hot chocolate. you take a sip before placing it onto the sill.

“any sightings?” rafe asks.

“nope.” you shake your head before yawning. “thanks for the hot chocolate though. im gonna wait another hour then call it for tonight.”

“you're gonna get your picture.” rafe says. “trust me.”

you're about to head back inside, hot chocolate drained empty and blanket wrapped even tighter around your shoulders as the temperature continues to drop.

you let out another yawn, unable to stop them now as your eyes scan the horizon one more time.

you think you see something in between two buildings and grab your camera, only for a bike to suddenly dart out and into the street.

you sigh and stand up, stretching your tired legs when you hear a telltale whooshing sound that could only be a body moving through the air.

you raise your camera, snapping pictures as spidermans web attaches to your building, swinging directly past you. you swear he even looks straight down your camera lense.

you let out a loud whoop as he swings away, even yelling out into the night.

“we love you spiderman!”

“eat your words.” you smack the printed picture down onto your dining room table, right in front of where rafe is eating his cereal.

“i told you you'd get it!” rafe says, snatching the picture up.

“yeah, but you doubted at first.” you smile, accepting his half-hug as you stay standing, dressed and ready to go to class.

“i should have learned to never doubt you.” rafe shakes his head. a small town girl from the outer banks getting into a prestigious nyc school isnt unheard of, but it is unheard of to not use your parents money for bribes, and you did this solely on your own.

“that's right, cameron.” you smirk.

“well, you're absolutely getting an A on this assignment.” rafe hands the picture back, replaying your words from last night. we love you spiderman.

“an f?” you glare up at your professor. “i got a picture of spiderman!”

“and how does that show neighborhood life?” he questions. “he's just a punk who likes to dress up.”

“he's saved lives!” you argue, standing up, outraged.

“he's probably in some drug gangs pocket, letting their criminals go while robbing the others.” he shakes his head. “your photograph should have been more like michaels.”

you look at michaels photograph, sitting a row below you, proudly displaying the photo that the professor deemed an A+. “a rat? in the subway? seriously?”

you stomp out of class, kayla calling out for you, but you ignore your friend, not wanting to stay in that room for another minute.

you don't realize until you're halfway home that you're doing the one thing you promised rafe would never happen. you're walking through the streets of new york city alone.

you clutch your bag closer. certainly the daylight will help protect you as you try to keep to more populated streets, but you have to walk through a few more deserted blocks to get back to your shared apartment.

you just want to see rafe, to fall into his arms and have him listen to your ranting and rambling about how much professors suck.

you're too deep into imagining the relief you'll feel in that moment to realize someone is following close behind you, a man with a dark hood pulled over his face.

you're only made aware of his presence when his hand pushes into your back, shoving you into an alley.

you let out a scream as the man flips you so your back smashed into the brick wall.

“shut up!” he shouts, covering your mouth with his disgusting hand, making you gag instantly. “give me all your money!”

you're about to hand over your entire bag, school camera be damned even though you're supposed to return it at the end of your semester, when you hear the familiar whoosh.

the man seems to recognize it too, taking a quick step back before spiderman punches him straight in the face, sending him to the ground.

“stay away from her!” he growls out, a twinge of familiarity striking again. you quickly realize this is the first time you've heard spiderman properly speak, not shouts or groans during fights.

you could never predict what happens next as spidermans arms wrap around your waist. you have a second to react and wrap your arms around his shoulders before you're off, flying in the sky.

you squeal and stick your face into his chest, not wanting to see the street below you. you only look up again when your feet are firmly on the ground.

you blink your eyes open, realizing you're standing on your fire escape, your room right through the window behind you.

“you did see me that night!”

spiderman just nods before he's off again.

you rush inside, adrenaline causing your heartbeat to skyrocket as you call out for your best friend.

“rafe?” you shout, frowning when he doesn't answer.

the front door opens a moment later, rafe whistling as he walks in.

“oh, hey.” he frowns, tune suddenly dying. “i thought you were supposed to be in class?”

“i… my professor gave me an f. i was mad so i just left and started walking home when…” you know you shouldn't tell rafe. it would cause him to be even more paranoid.

“when what?” rafe questions, dropping his bag onto the floor, eyes only briefly glancing to make sure nothing spilled out, no tell tale colors peaking free.

“when i got robbed. but it's okay!” you quickly hold your hands up. “spiderman saved me!”

“spiderman, huh?” rafe questions before sighing at your rapid nods.

“i guess i gotta like the guy now,” he pulls you into a tight hold, wrapping you up in his arms in a much needed hug. “ afterall, he saved you.”

you are humming to yourself as you get the table ready for rafe to come home with your pizza, always splurging on friday nights to get an entire pizza to split between the two of you while catching up on your week, rafe always having a crazy tale of something he saw while walking around the city.

rafe bursts through the door, startling you as he lets out a whoop and holds the pizza up.

you laugh and attempt to reach the box, but even jumping is no use as he's simply too tall, arms stretching almost to the ceiling.

rafe finally brings it down to your level as you grab it out of his hands and set it onto the table, taking a deep inhale of the scent.

“i got you a drink.” you tell rafe, gesturing to the soda sitting on the table.

rafe feels a tingling before it even happens, taking a deep breath, trying to sense what's about to come when your hip bumps into the pizza box as you reach for your lemonade.

the pizza box is only half on the table, the weight of the lid hanging off causing the small bump to be enough to send it over the edge, towards the floor.

your pizza night is about to be ruined before rafe sweeps in, using his extra senses to save the meal.

you gasp, the pizza back on the table not even a split second after you realized it was even falling.

“jesus, rafey!” you squeal. “you've got like super senses or something!”

“yeah, or something.” rafe hums.

“i mean, you gotta be kidding me.” you roll your eyes. “an action shot? that's literally begging for me to submit another spiderman photo.”

“oh, agreed.” kayla nods. “you did not deserve that F, let him eat his words when you send in this next one.”

“mhm, i think im gonna walk around tonight to try and get a picture of him.”

“you will not!” rafe was listening from his bedroom, door open to keep an eye on you and your friend.

“it'll be fine!” you turn to look at him. “if anything happens, im sure spiderman will save me again.”

“girl, go over the details with me again!” kayla squeals. “im still so jealous, i wanna be whisked away by spiderman!”

“ugh, he's so hot!” you agree.

“how do you know he's hot?” rafe is now standing in the doorway. “he wears a mask all the time.”

you're about to respond when kayla stops you. “he's a guy, he'll never get it.”

rafe drops it, waiting until kayla leaves to bring it up to you again. “so how is spiderman hot?”

“he's just-” you sigh over dramatically. “such a good guy. did you see him stop swinging to help that old lady cross the street? like any guy putting his life on the line to help out his neighborhood has to be hot.”

“ah.” rafe simply says, turning his back so you can't see the smile on his face. “you're not going out tonight, right?”

“right.” you lie, knowing rafe can tell when you're not telling the truth.

“y/n-” he warns.

“ill be fine, rafe.”

you take nothing but your camera, hoping leaving your bag at home will get any potential robbers to leave you alone just in case spiderman isn't nearby to save you.

you quietly walk through the dark streets, lights occasionally illuminating the sidewalk as you keep your head turned upwards.

you walk well past midnight, circling in blocks around your neighborhood with still no sign of spiderman.

you were hoping for a perfect action shot from the street below as he swings by. you assume he must be in the rougher parts of the city, your feet subconsciously moving to head to worse neighborhoods than your own.

“alright, you've gone far enough.” the voice makes you gasp and turn around, seeing spiderman hanging upside down from a street light.

“have you been following me?” you question, a smile growing on your face, completely forgetting the reason you were trying to find spiderman was to take a photograph of him for your assignment.

“go back home. its late and dangerous out here.”

you can see spiderman is about to swing away. “wait!” you call out, moving closer as he drops his web lower. you move carefully, slowly caressing his cheek through the thick uniform.

“i can't show you my face.”

“i want to kiss you.” you say, watching the way his lips move, enticing even being completely covered. “can i kiss you?”

“yes.”

you move the mask lower, exposing his chin then finally lips. you lean in, hesitating for a moment before pressing your mouth against his in a kiss.

you only pull away when spiderman does, flipping to stand on his feet before quickly retaking your mouth, dominating the kiss now that he's right side up.

he finally pulls away with a harsh breath. “i-i can't. i have to go.”

“you're not going to swing me home?” you look him in the mask covered eye. “rafe.”

you can see his body physically react, tightening before relaxing. “how did you know?”

“you're my best friend. how could i not know? especially once i saw your face.”

“you… you knew and still kissed me?” rafe looks around quickly before ripping his mask off, baring his face to you.

“of course.” you place a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him back down. “ive always wanted to kiss you.”

rafe launches a web into the air as you kiss him again, flying through the sky as you makeout, his senses keeping you from crashing as he swings back towards home.

“so… how did this all happen?” you question. “you haven't been spiderman the whole time i’ve known you.” you can tell now in hindsight that he changed. you figured it was just being in new york, being older, but now you know.

“i got bit by a spider. i- i will spare you all the details but i did some very bad things in the outer banks. involved with getting the gold. so-” rafe sighs, looking at you, making sure you’re not judging him, not thinking of fleeing. “i wanted to fix my life. and when i got these new powers, i wanted to use them for good.”

“you are a good man, rafe.” you reach out and squeeze his hands. “whatever happened… you’ve made up for it. i promise.”

“thank you.” rafe breaks, falling forward and pressing his face against your shoulder. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him close.

you whisper quietly, not sure if you’re ready to say the words properly yet. “i love you.”

rafe looks up, hope sparking in his eyes. “i love you too. i always have.”

“be careful out there.” you press a kiss to rafes lips. you've known his secret for two weeks now, still getting nervous every time he leaves, even if he comes home unscathed the next morning after protecting the neighborhood all night long.

“i will.” he kisses you again, wishing he didn't have to leave your bedroom as he crawls out your window onto the fire escape. he pulls on the mask before swinging away, all while you watch from your bed.

you wake up the next morning with rafes front pressed against your back, spiderman suit still on except for the mask, arms wrapped possessively around your body.

you turn carefully in his grasp until you see his sleeping face, cheek slightly scuffed up from whatever happened overnight.

you press gentle kisses against his face, keeping him asleep. you look at the clock on your bedside table.

wait any longer, and you'll miss your photography class. you shrug, screw that class, and snuggle back into your boyfriend's hold.

sfw taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie

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harunayuuka2060 · 11 months ago

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Silver: It's funny how the demon brothers were fighting over who gets the privilege of being MC's lap demon, and now they're all chasing after them since they've magically turned into toddlers.

Lilia: ...

Lilia: How long have you been here, Silver?

Silver: Since the early morning. Belphegor invited me over to ask about MC's preferences for pillows.

Lilia: ...By the way, have you seen Malleus?

Silver: He snatched MC.

Lilia: Then who are the brothers chasing?

Silver: An illusion.

Lucifer: *giving a stern glare at Malleus after he got MC back*

Malleus: Forgive me. Force of habit.

Satan: The hell you mean 'force of habit'?

Lucifer: *sigh* That's enough. And you, *to MC*, what were you thinking?

MC: Luci!

Lucifer: ...

Asmo: AWWWWW~! They're trying to get away from being scolded~!

Belphie: Lucifer, let me hold them.

Mammon: No! I'll hold them!

Levi: H-Hey! I won the game earlier, s-so I will hold them!

Beel: Your hands stink. You'll give them a rash.

Levi: Excuse me?!

Malleus: How long will the child of man be in that state?

Lucifer: Before the day ends.

Lucifer: They turned into a toddler after signing a cursed document.

Malleus: I see.

Barbatos: MC finished all the documents within this week.

Diavolo: *chuckles* They are so diligent!

Leona: Diligent, you say. But I see that as being careless.

Vil: I agree. Were they always like this back in your realm?

Diavolo: Why, yes! That's how they captivated all of us!

Azul: Your Highness, I hope you wouldn't mind me asking. How is it possible for the Prefect to handle serious matters?

Diavolo: Ah. I don't know the answer to that. *chuckles*

Barbatos: However, if you are curious, MC once argued with one of the House Of Lords members.

Azul: House Of Lords?

Barbatos: Yes. The nobles who guard the king's throne.

Leona: Sheesh. And why did they do that?

Diavolo: There was a time they doubted my skill. MC was furious when they went for me and the brothers. *chuckles* I could still recall how they challenged them to a fistfight when they could no longer hold their patience.

Barbatos: It was truly a fascinating sight.

Diavolo: Afterwards, they considered MC to be someone willing to protect and ensure the safety of the entire Devildom.

Leona: Goody two shoes.

Vil: I hate to agree with Leona, but yes.

Azul: I had seen MC fight so this was not a bit surprising.

*The brothers and Malleus walking with MC (who is still a toddler)*

Barbatos: Ah. Have they fallen asleep from all that running?

Lucifer: Yes. Fortunately.

Satan: *the one carrying MC this time*

Satan: There's no work left for them, right?

Barbatos: Yes.

Satan: *smiles* Great.

Vil: However, the headmage would like them to resume their classes.

Mammon: Huh? Why?

Azul: The Prefect is still a student of Night Raven College. And they are responsible for Grim, so they need to be there to supervise him.

Leona: Speaking of that furball, where is he?

Lucifer: *points at the ceiling*

Vil, Leona, and Azul: *looks up*

Grim: Mryah! *is being tied upside down* Get me down here!

Lucifer: You are learning to become a great mage. Think of ways how to release yourself from those binds.

Grim: THIS IS UNFAIR!

Azul: *couldn't help but laugh*

*In Devildom*

Solomon: Huh? Diavolo and Barbatos have gone on a vacation with MC?

Mephistopheles: Yes.

Solomon: ...But I didn't receive a message that they have returned?

Mephistopheles: MC tried to get ahold of you.

Mephistopheles: If you'll be here around weekends, MC will surely appear to check everything here.

#twisted wonderland #obey me mc #twst mc #obey me brothers #twst malleus #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #twst vil #twst azul #twst leona #twst grim #obey me solomon #obey me mephistopheles #twst lilia #twst silver #twst x obey me

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fanboyoff1 · 3 months ago

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Landoscar College Fic (2.4k words)

Inspired by this post. It was supposed to be a little drabble but it spiraled

@complementaryhalves Hope I did it justice. It’s not really a meet-cute since they both know of each other (or maybe that counts, idk how meet-cutes work) but I tried my best lol

Oscar really needs to set a second alarm.

He’s several months into college, so you’d think he’d have figured out a good sleep schedule by then. Unfortunately, that has not happened, and Oscar wakes up to sun on his face.

“Ughhh,” he groans, rolling over and pulling his sheets up over his head. It takes him a few seconds to realize there’s no annoying beeping that usually greets him in the morning.

“Shit.” He grabs his phone from the bedside table and jolts up when he reads 8:25 on his lockscreen. “Shitshitshit.”

He tosses his sheets to the side, the old mattress creaking loudly as he stands, rushing because his bus is literally about to leave. Why did he sign up for early classes? Why, why, why? Even his professor Mr. Webber told him it was a bad idea once he’d heard about it, but he’d insisted that it would be fine.

Right now, it’s definitely not fine though. He brushes his teeth at lightning-speed in the communal bathroom, and throws on a navy blue sweatshirt and pants, nearly forgetting his watch. He’ll get a bagel or something for breakfast at school.

Thankfully, he likes to pack his backpack the day before, so all he has to do is put it over his shoulders, rushing down the stairs and out the door into the parking lot to see… His bus rolling away down the road without him.

Oscar drops his hands down from his backpack straps to his side in defeat. He curses the ground and his stupid clock under his breath, kicking at a loose rock. What is he gonna do now?

Well, he could call Logan, ask if he can give him a ride. Or maybe Charles drove today? He glances across the parking lot, but there are around three other cars that look just like Charles’, so that won’t be very helpful.

He’s about to pull his phone out when he hears a car pull out of the lot, wheels making a grainy sound against the asphalt. Oscar quickly backs away from the middle of the road and goes back to his quiet crisis.

“Hey, you need a ride?”

Oscar looks up to see the car that had been leaving stopped in front of him. The person behind the voice is a handsome guy with dark curly hair and tan skin, sitting behind the wheel with one hand dangling out the window. There’s a small flicker of recognition in Oscar’s brain, he must have seen the boy around campus before.

The driver seems to have taken Oscar’s silence as hesitancy, starting to talk again. “I-um, I saw your bus fuck off into the distance, and I figured you could use some help. I live right over there.” He points vaguely to another one of the student campus buildings behind them.

Oscar opens his mouth to politely decline immediately, but stops himself. Does he really for certain have another way to get to school? He remembers how he knows this guy now, he’s friends with Charles. Anyone who’s friends with Charles gets an automatic thumbs up from him, but being in a car with them…

“Yeah, I could use a ride,” he finds himself saying, not totally sure the words are coming from his mouth. The curly haired guy seems equally surprised, but masks it quickly. “O-okay. Just come over to the passenger seat.”

Oscar walks out in front of the car, and opens the door. Any move to sit down is paused by the fact that there’s a football in the seat. The boy turns when Oscar opens the door, looking through his eyelashes at him, and his eyes are really blue from up close. A bit of green too- okay, stop analyzing his eyes, he tells himself.

The driver- Oscar decides to coin him Car Guy- notices Oscar’s predicament and grabs the football, promptly chucking it into the backseat and patting the now empty seat for Oscar, who sits.

He twists his body to face the back of the car. “Do you think you damaged anything with that throw?” he asks, trying to find the football amongst the clutter of the car. There’s a few random clothes, a cardboard box on the right.

“Eh, it’s fine,” Car Guy says with a wave of his hand. Oscar turns back to the front, buckling up. Car Guy notices what he’s doing and buckles up himself with a guilty smile. Oh God, Oscar’s totally going to die.

“Just college campus, I assume?” Car Guy asks, adjusting his rear-view mirror that has a car freshener and a necklace hanging from it. The necklace has a big 4 hanging by the end.

“Yeah,” Oscar sets his backpack down between his legs, and braces when Car Guy starts to drive away. However, he actually seems like an okay driver, despite that seatbelt incident that may haunt Oscar’s nightmares.

After a few streets, he chills out enough to get a proper look at who’s driving him. He has a Texas Bulls shirt on, a hoodie under it, and to top it all off, a green letterman jacket with the number 4 on it. Huh. 4 again. Maybe the number 4 has some kind of significance to him.

He’s really pretty as well, especially up close. His long lashes, his freckles, his hair that looks like it's attempting to be a mullet.

Don’t you dare fall for a jock Oscar, he tells himself. Because that’s what he has to be, right? He has a Bulls shirt, a sporty jacket, and a freaking football in the passenger seat. There’s nothing else he could be.

And he’s still terrified about a stranger driving him somewhere, pretty or not. He takes out his phone and pulls up his messages, finding his last conversation with Dad 2.0 (an inside joke the two of them have.) He frantically texts Charles, asking, ‘Is curly haired boy a serial killer??’

A moment later, he gets a response back, a lot of question marks. Oscar sighs, running his hand through his hair and trying not to let his thoughts spiral into how he may or may not be getting kidnapped.

# # #

Lando’s trying to be cool. He really is. But Oscar’s in his car. He wants to squeal and kick his feet and giggle.

He’s had a crush on the Australian-born boy for a while now, ever since he’d seen him actually. They’d just been passing by each other while walking across campus, but it felt like a world-changing event for Lando (okay, he may be overreacting just a little, but have you seen the man?!)

Once he learned that Oscar was friends with Charles, he came out to his friend as bi and proceeded to spend his entire time with Charles ranting about how pretty Oscar was, or what Oscar was wearing today, or could he get some pictures of Oscar pretty-please?

Needless to say, the Monegasque was tired of his pining fairly quickly. “I don’t understand why you do not just talk to him,” he’d said one day during their lunch break.

“I can’t just talk to him, Charles.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s weird!”

“How? It’s just talking,” Charles had retorted, biting into his protein bar. “You can say it’s because you are both friends with me or something. There are ways.”

“Well, it- it’s complicated.” Charles raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have a good argument for that Charles, but just know that you’re wrong.”

So Lando had just watched Oscar from a distance (not in a creepy way or anything, just in an adoration way.) Until this morning, when he saw Oscar miss the bus, which was admittedly a little funny, he’d gotten the courage to ask if he wanted a ride. He hadn’t been expecting him to say yes, but he was ecstatic that he had.

Now they’re in the car together, and Lando’s tongue feels like lead whenever he attempts to make small talk. Oscar’s aggressively texting someone, and Lando has had to stop himself multiple times from looking at Oscar instead of the road.

Oscar sighs, running his hand through his swoopy hair. Now’s his chance. “Everything okay?” he asks, drumming a finger against the steering wheel as he waits behind a stop sign.

“Hmm?” Oscar looks up, raising his eyebrows, and Lando might die on the spot. “Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. I was just texting a friend. You know Charles, right?”

“Leclerc?”

“Yeah,” Oscar says, letting out a breathy laugh. “I was gonna ask him to drive back and pick me up but… Well I don’t know if you know this, but Charles likes to jog to school sometimes. I wasn’t sure if he had today or not.”

Lando barely processes what he’s said, which feels extremely rude even in his head. But Oscar’s smiling and it looks so cute, and the way his voice changes as he’s trying to stifle a laugh is addicting. “Oh, I think I’ve heard him talk about jogging to class sometimes. One time he texted me at like 6 am, I was so confused when he told me he was at school already.”

Oscar laughs again, and Lando tries to stop the butterflies growing in his stomach. “Ha, yeah, he’s like that. I think he just likes to be early.”

“I know, but 6 am??”

“I’m not defending him!” Oscar says, throwing his hands in the air, the two of them laughing together. Lando feels joy spread through his chest, because Oscar seems more comfortable, he’s smiling and laughing and blushing and he looks so cute.

“Oh my gosh, I have this selfie of Charles he sent to me when he was on a run,” Oscar turns on his phone and started to scroll through his photos, eyebrows furrowed in determination. His hair droops down on his face, and Lando fights the urge to reach out and push it back.

After a minute or so, Oscar bursts out laughing. “Did you find it?” Lando asks. Oscar nods, shoulders shaking, and holds his phone out for Lando to see. It's perfect timing, they're stopped at a red light, so Lando turns his head to inspect the picture.

Charles has a headband and glasses on with no shirt. He must have been running when he took the picture, everything’s blurry and the background is just a mass of green and gray. The most noticeable thing is his face. He’s trying to wink, but it’s more like a squint, and his eyebrows are high up on his forehead. He looks partially like he ate something sour, and like he’s getting chased by a wild animal.

Lando snorts, and Oscar pulls the phone back. “I know right? Apparently, he took the photo and sent it to me without checking what it looked like, so now I have this treasure saved in my phone forever.”

# # #

They spend the rest of the car ride in silence, and Oscar regrets thinking Car Guy was someone scary or a jerk. He seems really sweet and funny. And he’s attractive. But that’s besides the point.

Charles had been blowing up Oscar’s phone ever since his vague text about Car Guy, most of it consisting of ‘who the hell are you with’ and ‘answer your phone, you’re freaking me out.’ Oscar replies to his flurry of messages with nvm. It's fine. I’ll explain later

“Is this a good place to drop you off?” Car Guy asks him, and Oscar’s head jolts up. He parked just a few minutes away from his first class.

“Oh yeah, this is perfect,” Oscar grabs his backpack and opens the car door. “Thanks for this,” he says, turning back.

“No problem,” Car Guy says with a smile. He’s got a little gap between his front teeth. “See you around?”

Oscar gives him a thumbs-up and steps out, walking down the winding sidewalk to Mr. Webber’s class in room 222.

Epilogue

Oscar still needed another alarm. He just kept forgetting. And now he was running late again, this time far too late to even try to catch the bus.

He sits on the parking lot curb, about to call Charles (he’d taken his car today,) when a familiar voice calls out to him.

“Dude, you really need to wake up earlier.”

Oscar gives Car Guy a withering glare. He leans back in his car in response, a look of barely concealed fear in his eyes. “Well, do you want a ride or not?”

Oscar sighs and stands, getting in the passenger seat. “No football this time,” Car Guy says with a grin. Oscar can’t help but smile back.

This car ride is a lot less talkative than the last one, a playlist of Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus from Car Guy’s phone playing loudly. Oscar puts on an excellent act of pretending his ears aren’t bleeding from the music.

“Thanks again,” he says once they arrive at his stop. He gets his backpack and is about to leave when Car Guy speaks up.

“Hey um, I was wondering if maybe you could repay me by going on a date? With me?”

Oscar blinks once, twice. Car Guy obviously takes this the wrong way, his face reddening. “Never mind. Just… forget I said anything.”

“No,” Oscar says. “I don’t want to forget that. I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Really?” Car Guy says, his eyes lighting up. “Okay, here’s my number.” He reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a folded Sticky-Note, pressing it into Oscar’s hand. Oscar wonders if he feels the electricity when their fingers touch too.

“Uh, this is gonna sound weird,” Oscar says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But can I get your name?”

“Oh. OH. My name’s Lando.”

“Lando,” Oscar says, testing the word on his tongue. “I’m Oscar.”

“I kinda already knew that,” Lando giggles, and now it’s Oscar turn to blush. “You look cute when you blush.” His face gets a thousand times more red.

“OkIgottagoI’lltextyoubye,” he says, almost stumbling out of the car. Once Lando’s car drives away though, he allows himself a bit of a victory dance, before walking to class with a skip in his step and only one word in his mind. Lando, Lando, Lando.

Okay I kinda hate it 😭 But I don’t really wanna work on it more, so *tosses fanfic at the Tumblr gods and runs*

#lando norris #oscar piastri #f1 #landoscar #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #f1 rpf fanfic

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year ago

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 9)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

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

Part 8, Part 10

summary: You both come to a realisation.

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

a/n: yuhh

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

Join my taglists here

wc: 7.2k

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

all that light lost in gaps

You're gone, in the morning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No. Not at all–"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is everything okay?"

Instinctually, he seizes up.

"Yeah. Yes. I'm good."

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

"There isn't a 'situation'."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn't owe you shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

"Hiya, welcome to Pam's! How can I–"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Sent: 15:32]

hey mig

[Sent: 15:32]

where did u go?

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

[Received: 15:33]

Out.

[Received: 15:33]

Running errands.

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

[Received: 15:35]

Is everything okay?

[Sent: 15:35]

yeah

[Sent: 15:36]

all good

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

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

Immediately, you pick up.

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

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

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

You swallow. "Yeah. I… I did."

" You sure? Because you suck at lying."

"Don't be an asshole."

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

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

“ Would you have answered?”

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

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

“No. Not really.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

“ ...And? ”

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

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

“ ... don’t act so surprised.”

“ You sound surprised.” He laughs.

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

“Bullshit. You text her all the time.”

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

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

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

You nod, and his hand creeps up and up.

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

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

Oh. You want to kiss him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

" –what about you, babe?"

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

"Uhhh…"

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

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

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

"Doing better ." You correct her, shyly.

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

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

"Back?" You ask.

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

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

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

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

"It didn't click."

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

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

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

"To doing better ."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You clamber into the backseat.

“Get in, Ly.”

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

“Did you take something?”

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

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

“Let me take you home. Please. ”

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

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

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

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

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

“...too far…. always taking it too…”

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

“You want to come out to the front?”

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

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

Miguel reverses back out onto the road.

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

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

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

Now, he looks up. “What?”

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

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

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

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

“Not true , Mig. I would've noticed.”

“You're drunk–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, I know…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What… What else?” He croaks.

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

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

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

Nodding, you oblige.

“Does it feel good?”

“ Yes. ” You don't hesitate.

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

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

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

“ Faster , please.”

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

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

“Poor baby. Will you let me help?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. No. Just you. Only you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

“Then why won't you kiss me?”

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

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

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

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

It keeps you a little warmer through the night.

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

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook @sonderspider @spear-bitch @cryingintheclubdhmu @mageneire @notdyl4n @slezhara @funkyfoxx0 @smol-beb @iceclaw101 @lixhizy @errorundyne-exe @707xn @beantokki@twentysomethingwereyote

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

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wonder-innie · 2 months ago

Text

magic, blood and lies (tvdu)

vampire!jay x witch!reader (the vampire diaries universe)

— ; A year ago, you discovered you were a witch, and your grandmother taught you that vampires are dangerous monsters. Now, on your first day at university, you meet Jay, a mysterious guy who questions everything you thought you knew.

word count: 7k

t.w: alcohol, death, heeseung is a jerk, harry potter and twilight references. lmk if i forgot smth

—> how does the vampire diaries universe work?

a.n: english is not my first language. check my masterlist.

a.n 2: i may do a part 2 if you guys like this :)

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It was the first week of September, marking the beginning of your first year in college. You were excited to say the least, you have always dreamed of living the typical university life; hanging out with your friends, fraternity parties, going out with the hottest guys on campus and stuff like that.

Your roommate, Samantha, seemed fine, she was the same age as you and was very friendly to you when you introduced yourself. Of course, the first thing you did when you met Sam was give her a hand shake. As a witch, you could realize if the person you were touching was either a vampire, a human or even a witch like you.

You found out you were a witch last year when you accidentally caused a fire at a pool party. Ever since then, your grandma has been teaching you how to control your magic. The lessons started with simple spells, such as a locating spell. Your grandma insisted that one of the first things you should learn was how to defend yourself against a vampire, knowing that vampires often force witches to obey them.

You woke up early in the morning, you checked your phone to take a look at your timetable. You had Economics class in a few hours, so you proceed to do your morning routine; brushing your teeth, having breakfast and taking a shower. Once you were out of the shower and finished drying your hair, you used your hands to wipe the fogged-up bathroom mirror to see your face. It was your first day, you wanted to be beautiful as hell, so you started putting on makeup.

The first thing you saw as you opened the door was Samantha, your roommate, laying on her bed while scrolling through social media.

“Good morning, Sam” you greeted her as you walked to your closet.

“Morning, Y/N, how did you sleep?” she sat down on her bed and put her phone down

“Like a baby, these beds are great” you replied while taking off a few shirts from your closet, not looking at her.

“Yeah, I could tell you loved them; you snored all night,” she said with a playful tone. You stopped what you were doing and covered your face with your hands, trying to hide how red your cheeks had turned. She couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m just messing with you, you don’t snore, thank God.”

You had a chit chat with her as you both were getting ready for class. Eventually, she went to the bathroom and you headed to the classroom. You thought you were so lucky to have a roommate like Samantha, she was cool.

When you arrived at the classroom, you saw that only a few desks were occupied. You didn’t want to sit in the back, but you didn’t want to be in the front row either, so you decided to sit in the middle, in the only empty row.

You watched as the seats gradually filled up over time. There were five minutes left before the class started—in fact, the professor had already arrived—and yet the seat to your right remained empty. It caught your attention because you didn’t think a subject like Economics would have any empty seats.

However, it didn’t take long before someone sat down next to you. You turned your head and locked eyes with a black-haired boy you had never seen before, someone who looked like he’d been sculpted by the gods. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, and apparently, neither could he. You stayed like that for a few seconds… in silence. Until the boy decided to break it.

“Hello… my name is Jay” he said with a shy smile on his face.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you” you replied, also with a shy smile.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the professor cut him off by starting the class. You both turned your heads to the professor. You quickly took out your laptop and started taking notes, and so did Jay.

The class was… not what you expected. It was boring as hell. You were interested in the topic he was teaching; the problem was how he was teaching it. On top of that, he spoke in such a low tone of voice that it felt like he wanted his students to fall asleep during his class.

At some point you got distracted and, because of that, you lost the string of what he was saying. When you tried to get back to taking notes you weren’t able to understand, since it was related to what he explained during the time you got distracted.

You sighed before looking at Jay; he never stopped taking notes. “Jay…” you murmured in the lowest tone possible. He tilted his head to face you. “Would you mind showing me your screen for a sec?” He didn’t hesitate to turn his laptop in your direction so you could copy his notes. “Thanks”

“It’s nothing,” he responded. You noticed he was staring at you as you were writing down his notes. You finished quickly.

As the class ended, you packed your things, feeling the relief of finally escaping. Jay, however, stayed seated, watching you with a smirk as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

“Hey,” he called, stopping you just before you stepped into the aisle. “Got a sec?”

You glanced down at him, one brow arched. “What is it, Jay?”

He leaned back in his chair, spinning his pen between his fingers. “How about you give me your number?”

Your lips curved into a smirk. “My number? For what, exactly?”

“To return the favor,” he said smoothly, tapping the edge of his laptop. “You know, for letting you copy my notes today. Seems fair, right?”

You gave him a look, not missing the way his eyes gleamed with playful confidence. “Hmm, sounds less like returning a favor and more like you’re finding an excuse to talk to me.”

Jay’s grin widened, clearly enjoying your response. “Caught me. Guilty as charged,” he admitted without missing a beat. “But hey, I figure someone like you might be worth chatting with outside this horrible class.”

You didn’t hesitate this time, pulling out your phone with a shrug. “Fair enough,” you said, typing your number into his contact screen before handing it back.

“Done,” he said, glancing at his phone to check your name. Jay stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder as if this whole interaction had been the most natural thing in the world. “See you next time, then. And don’t worry, I’m not much of a spammer, unless I get bored.”

He gave you a wink before strolling out of the classroom.

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Later that night, you were brushing your teeth, thinking about Jay. You liked guys who took the initiative, and he was also handsome as hell. He hadn’t texted you yet. You weren’t dying for a text, but still, you wanted to know more about him. You thought about searching for him on social media; however, you only knew his first name, and it was a common one, so it was going to be hard to find him on Instagram. That’s when you decided to ask Samantha to help you get his last name.

You heard Samantha yell, “Found it!” Oh, that was faster than you expected. You left the bathroom and sat next to her. “I found him on your class list. His last name is Park.”

You grabbed your phone and started searching for Jay Park on Instagram. You visited a few profiles before finally finding his account. He had posted a few pictures of himself at the beach, at the gym, and at parties.

“Girl, he’s so handsome. Check his stories,” Samantha said, leaning over your shoulder.

You tapped on the highlight named “bros,” and as you were scrolling through the stories, you saw one of Jay with another guy on a yacht.

“Oh my god, look at his friend. He’s way hotter,” Samantha chuckled. She was literally all about boys. Luckily, Jay had tagged his friend in the story, so Samantha didn’t hesitate to grab her own phone and follow him. His name was Lee Heeseung.

A few hours later, Samantha fell asleep in her bed and you were on yours, still stalking Jay. You noticed something, in every picture he was wearing the same ring, maybe it had a special meaning to him… or something like that. You checked your timetable, you only had Economics on Mondays and Fridays, meaning you wouldn’t see Jay until the end of the week unless you and him shared another class.

At that moment, you received a text. It was from Jay, greeting you and asking what you were doing.

“Not much, just about to sleep,” you replied casually.

His response came almost instantly. “Going to bed so soon? Making sure you won’t fall sleep in class again?.”

You chuckled, typing back, “I wasn’t that bad. Your notes were just too detailed, they knocked me out.”

Jay’s next message had you smiling. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Guess I’ll have to tone down my brilliance next time.”

“Or just get a louder voice,” you teased, feeling a little bolder.

“Ouch. Brutal,” he replied. “But fair. So, do we have any other classes together, or is it just Economics?” He send you a picture of his schedule

“Apparently just Economics, Mondays and Fridays,” you wrote back. “Why? Hoping I’ll help you stay awake in other classes too?”

“Maybe,” he replied, and you could almost hear the grin in his words. “I mean, it’s a solid setup. You get my notes; I get a decent excuse to stay awake. Win-win.”

“Wow, you’re really thinking this through,” you answered, amused.

“Always,” Jay texted back. “Anyway, let me know if you ever need more life-saving notes. I might ask for payment next time, though.”

“Payment?” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of payment?”

“You’ll see,” was all he said, leaving the conversation hanging with just enough intrigue to keep you curious.

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You spent the rest of the week texting with Jay. Eventually, you followed each other on Instagram—of course, you didn’t tell him you had stalked him. Even though your chats were never particularly deep, you felt surprisingly comfortable talking to him. He mentioned that he and Heeseung had been friends for a year. Speaking of which, Samantha had a date with Heeseung that Thursday.

You were lying on your bed, watching a movie on your laptop, when someone knocked on the door. Samantha hurried out of the bathroom and walked over to you. She was wearing a casual outfit—simple but effortlessly stylish. She had spent nearly an hour deciding what to wear, yet she somehow made it look like she had thrown it together in a minute.

“How do I look?” Samantha murmured, careful to keep her voice low so Heeseung wouldn’t hear.

You paused your movie and playfully scrunched up your nose in mock disapproval, making her look momentarily worried.

“I’m kidding! You look gorgeous. Now go open the door,” you said with a grin, pressing play to continue watching your movie.

She opened the door, and Heeseung greeted her with a warm smile. After they exchanged hellos, Heeseung raised his voice toward you.

“Y/N.”

You paused the movie again and looked at him.

“Jay sent you this,” he said, pulling a sleek, luxurious box from his jacket pocket.

You stood up and walked toward him, noticing that he didn’t step inside your dorm, even though he was talking to you.

You took the box from him. “Thanks. What is it?”

“I dunno, open it,” Heeseung said, looking intrigued.

You opened the box and… wow. You hadn’t expected such a beautiful bracelet. It had a charm that looked like silver. You took it out of the box and slipped it onto your left wrist.

“It looks gorgeous on you!” Samantha said with a smile.

“Giving you that bracelet so soon? Interesting…” Heeseung commented with a teasing tone.

“What’s with the bracelet?” you asked, glancing at him.

“You’ll find out sooner or later,” he said cryptically before turning toward the hallway. “You coming, Sam?”

Samantha closed the door behind her, and just like that, they were gone.

You looked down at the bracelet. You didn’t know why, but you had a bad feeling about this whole situation.

Shaking off the unease, you told yourself it was just a thoughtful gift from a cute guy at college. You texted Jay to thank him for the bracelet, and he replied almost instantly:

“Glad you liked it.”

A few seconds later, another text popped up:

“If you like it, you should wear it all the time. I bet it looks pretty on you.”

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You went to bed early, so you didn’t hear Samantha come back to the dorm.

Friday morning arrived, and you went about your usual routine. Standing in front of your closet, you spent a few minutes debating what to wear—you wanted to look good, confident, and just the right amount of irresistible for Jay.

As you were sifting through your options, Samantha walked in, practically glowing as she started gushing about her date with Heeseung.

“You should wear this shirt; it’ll look great on you,” she said, pulling out a shirt and holding it up for you.

You smiled at her suggestion. “Oh, by the way,” she continued, “Heeseung told me some of his friends are throwing a party tomorrow night. Wanna come? Jay’s gonna be there.”

“Sure, sounds fun,” you said, taking the shirt from her and slipping it on.

After finishing up and checking yourself in the mirror one last time, you headed to Economics class. You sat in the same spot as Monday, settling in and glancing around, but Jay wasn’t there yet. However, a few minutes later he arrived and sat next to you.

“Morning, Y/N, how are you?” he said with a smile on his face. God, he was so handsome.

“Oh, hi, Jay. Fine, you?”

“Same,” he replied casually. His eyes drifted to your wrist, noticing the bracelet he had given you. “It looks pretty on you.”

You tilted your head slightly, a playful smirk on your lips. “Does it look pretty on me, or I look pretty with it?”

Jay chuckled, leaning a little closer. “Maybe both,” he said smoothly, his grin growing wider.

You rolled your eyes as you bit your lower lip. You were going to answer him, but the professor started the class.

The class was proceeding as usual. During it, you could feel Jay glancing at you from time to time.

At one point, Jay leaned closer to your ear and whispered, “Are you going to the party tomorrow?” His voice took you by surprise, and for a moment, it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah, Samantha told me you and Heeseung are going too,” you replied softly.

“That’s right. By the way, my favorite color is black,” he said with a sly smile before turning back to his laptop, thinking the conversation was over. But you weren’t done yet. Leaning closer to his ear, you whispered back:

“My favorite color is red.”

If he wanted you to wear black, he’d have to show up in red. You smirked to yourself and returned to taking notes as if nothing had happened.

The class finally came to an end, just as boring as the first one. You and Jay started putting your things away, still sitting in your chairs.

“So, I have to show up in red if I want to catch your attention, right?” he asked, a playful smile on his face.

“Yeah, and I have to show up in black to catch yours,” you replied, matching his teasing tone.

In that moment, your phone vibrated, so you quickly took it out of your pocket. It was a message from your mom. You unlocked your phone to reply but accidentally dropped it on the floor. You bent down to grab it, but Jay was faster.

“Be careful, if you break it, you won’t receive my texts,” he teased, leaning down to hand your phone back to you.

As you grabbed your phone, your fingers brushed against his. The moment your skin touched his, you felt it—a cold shiver ran through your body, like death itself had brushed past you. It was like darkness wrapped around you for a second. You let out a small gasp, a sound of discomfort you couldn’t hide.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Jay asked, his voice full of concern.

It couldn’t be real. Jay was… a vampire. Your new college crush was a freaking vampire. You’d spent the past week texting him, getting to know him, and now it all felt wrong.

“Ye-yeah… I have to go!” you stammered, your heart racing. Before he could say anything else, you quickly stood up and bolted for the door. You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t dare stop. Your mind was spinning, and you needed to get out of there.

In your rush, you didn’t notice Heeseung waiting outside, apparently for Jay. You bumped into him, and… it had to be a joke. Once again, that horrible feeling washed over you. You felt death crawl through your body.

“Watch where you’re…” Heeseung didn’t finish his sentence because this time, you just kept walking, nearly running.

Your heart was pounding, and you could barely catch your breath. So far, you’d met three people, and two of them turned out to be monsters.

In that moment you realize why Jay had the same ring in all of his pictures, it was a daylight ring, it allowed him to walk freely during the day.

What should you do? Go to the party and confront them? Pretend nothing happened? You had so many questions, and then you remembered that Samantha had gone on a date with Heeseung.

You ran back to your dorm and slammed the door open. “Samantha!” you shouted desperately. You shut the door behind you. She was lying on the bed, texting on her phone.

“I’m here! Don’t shout, it’s still early,” she said as she got up. “What happened?”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” You bombarded her with questions, scared of what Heeseung might have done to her.

“S-sure. What’s going on? You look like you saw a ghost.” You were pale, sweat running down your cheek from all the running. When she told you she was fine, you let out a sigh of relief.

You sat on your bed, trying to calm yourself down and think clearly about what to do. Right now, you needed to figure out how to get Samantha away from Heeseung without making her ask too many questions.

“Listen to me, you can’t keep seeing Heeseung.”

“What? Why?”

You weren’t great at lying, but you had to come up with something convincing for Sam’s sake.

“I heard he has a girlfriend. Seems like he’s cheating on her with multiple girls…” you saw how her expression changed form confusion and worry to fury.

“What?! That son of…”

She grabbed the pillow from her bed and threw it against the wall in frustration. She started yelling in anger, saying things you didn’t think a girl like her would ever say.

“You know what? We’re going to that party. I’m wearing the shortest dress I have, and I’m going to ignore him the whole night while he drools over me.”

“I don’t think going to the party is a good…” you were cut off by Samantha.

“We’re going, and that’s final!”

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You were sitting in the Uber with Samantha next to you, heading to the party. Jay had sent you a few messages since Friday’s class, but you didn’t even bother to open them.

As you looked out the car window, you got lost in your thoughts. Your grandma always told you that vampires were monsters—after all, they feed on innocent people. They could wipe out an entire town just for fun if they wanted to. Vampires are murderers.

But Jay seemed like a good person. He hadn’t done anything to hurt you. In fact, he even gave you a bracelet, which you were wearing at that moment. If Jay were truly evil, he would have attacked you by now. You had held onto that thought for the past two days.

Was it possible that good vampires existed? Vampires who didn’t kill? You were desperately trying to convince yourself that Jay wasn’t like the others. But that didn’t change the fact that he fed on people, probably killing them in the process.

Samantha was wearing a short red dress, while you had opted for a dark blue one. Of course, you weren’t going to wear black. You planned to ignore Jay the whole night and mind your own business.

When you arrived, you stepped out of the car and were greeted by the sight of a mansion packed with people. It was massive, with at least three floors. A few people were smoking and drinking on the porch. As you approached the entrance, the music grew louder and louder.

Once inside, you scanned the room for Jay. You needed to know where he was so you could avoid him. It didn’t take long to spot him—he had a beer in his hand and was chatting with a group of guys. He was wearing a red shirt, and it suited him almost too well. You recognized Heeseung among the group, also holding a beer.

At that moment, you and Jay locked eyes. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly looked away. “Let’s go get some drinks,” you said to Samantha, grabbing her arm.

You both headed toward what seemed to be the kitchen. Jay looked confused. Everything had been fine until Friday morning, but now you were ignoring him. He needed answers.

An hour later, you and Samantha were drinking jungle juice while dancing in the yard. The weather was nice, and the yard wasn’t as crowded as the house, making it the perfect spot. You were slightly worried about Samantha. You’d only had two glasses, but you’d lost count of hers after four. She seemed fine, though—at least, until she opened her mouth.

“I want to talk to Heeseung,” she said loudly so you could hear her over the music. “He deserves to be embarrassed in public. He’s an asshole.”

“Sam, don’t waste your precious time on him. He’s not worth it,” you said, praying she wouldn’t do anything stupid.

She sighed. “You’re right…”

Eventually, you needed to use the bathroom—you’d drunk too much. Samantha followed you back into the house to look for it. You asked a random guy for directions, and he pointed you upstairs.

As you were walking, you felt someone staring at you. Turning your head, you saw Jay watching you intently. He raised his hand to wave, but you quickly avoided his gaze again.

“I’ll wait outside to make sure no one comes in,” Samantha said as you entered the bathroom.

You peed quickly and washed your hands. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you noticed your makeup was still intact. You weren’t drunk, just in a “happier” mood.

Your phone vibrated as you were about to leave. It was a text from Jay: “Is everything okay?” You read the notification but didn’t open it. Instead, you deleted it.

When you stepped out, Samantha was nowhere to be found. She was way too drunk to be wandering around alone. You quickly texted her, “Where are you?” You hadn’t been gone long, so she couldn’t be far.

You began searching for her while waiting for a reply. After ten minutes of looking with no luck, you glanced in Jay’s direction, hoping Heeseung was still with him. But of course, he wasn’t.

If you were worried before, now you were terrified. What if Samantha was alone with Heeseung? You didn’t even want to think about it. You started asking people if they’d seen her, growing more desperate by the second.

“Y/N,” a familiar voice called from behind. You turned to see Jay. You didn’t want to talk to him, but he might be your only chance of finding Samantha.

“Are you done avoiding me?” he asked, stepping closer.

You moved toward him, now standing just inches apart. Looking directly into his eyes, you said, “Where is Samantha?!” Your tone was sharp, almost yelling.

Jay was taken aback. He’d been expecting an explanation for your behavior, not you screaming at him about your friend.

“Tell me where the fuck Heeseung took her, or I’ll drive a stake into your heart,” you spat.

His expression shifted to one of shock and confusion. Did he hear you right? How could you possibly know what he was? Then it clicked—this must be why you’d been avoiding him. Jay didn’t know how you’d figured it out, but he wanted to help.

“I think he took her to the last room upstairs. Seung always takes girls there,” Jay finally said, still stunned. “But don’t worry—he’s not going to hurt her.”

“I highly doubt that,” you muttered before turning and heading for the stairs. The second floor was much quieter than the first. The long hallway ahead was almost empty. Desperate, you sprinted to the last door.

It was locked.

Looking around to make sure no one was watching, you sighed. If you wanted to help Samantha, you had no choice but to use your magic. Placing a hand on the door, you concentrated.

“Dissera portus.”

You heard the lock click open and pushed the door without hesitation.

What you saw inside was horrifying. Heeseung had Samantha pinned against the wall, drinking blood straight from her neck. She wasn’t moving or making a sound—he must have compelled her.

“Let her go!” you screamed.

Heeseung stopped and turned to look at you, intrigued. “How did you get in? I’m sure I locked the door.” He wiped the blood from his lips with his sleeve, completely unbothered by what he was doing.

You glared at him, rage boiling in your veins. “Let. Her. Go.”

He laughed at your words. "Here's the thing. I'd compel you to forget this ever happened, but Jay gave you that." He pointed at your bracelet. "So this is what we're gonna do: I'll give you five seconds to turn around, leave, and find Jay.

"Or what?" you asked in a challenging tone.

"I'm gonna kill you," he said like it was nothing.

He raised his hand and began counting.

With each number, he lowered a finger. "One, two, thr-"

He didn't finish. You were already casting a stern gaze at him, using the Pain Infliction spell, one of the first spells you learned. It wasn't verbal but still powerful, causing his blood vessels to burst and inflicting unbearable pain.

Heeseung screamed, clutching his head as if it would split open. "Fuck!" he yelled, falling to the floor and writhing in agony.

Samantha stood frozen, tears streaming down her face, utterly speechless. She didn't know what was happening-only that she wanted to leave.

"You shouldn't have messed with one of my friends, Heeseung," you said, stepping closer without breaking your concentration. "Burn in hell, vampire. Incendia!"

Flames ignited at his feet and rapidly climbed his legs. He frantically patted at the fire, but his efforts were useless.

"Stop!" Jay's voice cut through the chaos. He appeared behind you in an instant, his speed unmatched. "Please... He's out of control, but I can help him."

"He's a vampire," you spat. "He won't stop killing as long as he's alive. He has to die."

Jay realized words wouldn't sway you.

He looked at you, then at his friend, who was still thrashing on the ground. The fire had reached Heeseung's hips, and his screams were becoming weaker.

"I hope this works," Jay muttered to himself before using his speed to move to Heeseung. In one swift motion, he grabbed his friend's head with both hands and snapped his neck.

You froze. You knew snapping his neck wouldn't truly kill him-he'd recover within hours.

"Wha-"

"I'll make sure he's punished for hurting your friend," Jay said, turning to you, desperation etched on his face. "But please... don't kill him."

What were you supposed to do? Stop the spell and trust Jay? Attack him the same way you attacked Heeseung?

You looked at Jay, searching his eyes for answers. Something about him made you pause. Against your better judgment, you felt you could trust him.

Raising your right hand toward Heeseung, you whispered, "Suctus Incendia." The flames disappeared instantly.

"Thank you," Jay said softly.

You didn’t answer him. You ran to Samantha and hugged her. Her cry became louder as she left tears in your shoulder. You to patted her head hoping it would help her calm down.

“I… I can help you” Jay said as he approached to you. He rolled up his sleeves and bit his own wrist. “You’ll heal faster if you drink my blood”

You broke the hug and Samantha looked at you, waiting for your approval. You nodded your head and Jay leaned his hand, Samantha drank the blood from his wrist and in a matter of seconds, the bite mark Heeseung left in her neck disappeared.

After that you both headed to the exit. “Thank you, Jay” you said before closing the door of the bedroom.

————————-

You practically had to drag Samantha to her bed since she was in a total state of shock. Once she was lying down, you went to her closet, took out her pajamas, and handed them to her. After that, you gave her a glass of water.

“How are you feeling?” you asked as you sat at the edge of the bed, near her feet, which were covered by the sheets.

“I—I don’t know…” she stammered, her voice shaky. “I’m afraid, I—I’m confused.” She sighed deeply, her eyes welling with tears. “Vampires exist… Heeseung and Jay were vampires, and… and you…” She looked at you with a mix of fear and curiosity. “What are you exactly?”

“I’m… a witch,” you admitted, trying to give her a reassuring smile. “I don’t use my magic to hurt people.” You reached out and gently held her hand. “You’re safe with me, I promise.”

Sam took a small sip of water, her trembling hands barely steady enough to hold the glass. The room fell silent for a few minutes. Neither of you knew what to say or do.

Samantha sat there, gripping the glass of water so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her breathing grew uneven, and you could see the weight of everything she had just witnessed crashing down on her.

“I… I could have died,” she whispered, her voice trembling. Her words were barely audible, but the fear laced in them was undeniable. She placed the glass shakily on the nightstand and pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly. “Heeseung—he could have killed me. If you weren’t there…” Her voice cracked as she trailed off.

You stayed quiet, allowing her to let it out.

“And Jay… he didn’t even care. He was protecting that monster! What if they come back? What if more of them come after me?” Samantha’s breathing quickened, and her hands started shaking. “I’m not safe. Vampires exist, and God knows what else! Demons? Werewolves? What if this is just the beginning?”

She buried her face in her hands, trying to muffle the soft, panicked sobs that began escaping her.

“Samantha…” you said gently, moving closer.

“I’m just human,” she continued, her voice muffled. “I can’t do anything. I’m not strong like you, I don’t have magic to protect myself… I don��t even know how to fight!” She looked up at you, her face pale and tear-streaked. “How do I live like this? How do I go back to normal knowing there are monsters out there?”

You felt your heart sink. Samantha’s words cut through you, and you realized the full weight of what she was saying. This knowledge, this world she was pulled into, was tearing her apart.

You reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Sam,” you said softly, your voice steady. “You don’t have to worry. I will protect you.”

She shook her head. “You can’t always be there, Y/N. And what happens next time? Or the time after that?” Her voice cracked again. “I don’t want to live in fear.”

You didn’t know what to say. For the first time, you realized that the truth—the world you lived in—was too much for her. It wasn’t fair to expect her to carry this burden.

You took a deep breath, your decision forming in the silence. There was a way to help her, to give her back the peace she so desperately needed. But it wasn’t a choice you made lightly.

Samantha sniffled, wiping her face with her sleeve. “I trust you, Y/N. I do. But this… this is too much for me.”

“I know,” you said softly. Your voice wavered, but you kept going. “I can fix this, Sam. I can make it so you don’t have to feel this way anymore. So you can be free from this.”

She blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

You hesitated, guilt already weighing on your chest. “I know someone who can make you forget this ever happened,” you said softly. “But before I call him, I need to know if you’re okay with it. Are you in?”

Samantha stared at her hands, her voice trembling. “Forget? Like… completely? Everything about tonight?”

You nodded. “Yes. All of it. But only if you want to.”

She took a shaky breath and looked up at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Call him, please.”

You gave her a reassuring nod, though the knot in your stomach tightened. Pulling out your phone, you quickly dialed the number of the one person who could help.

As you waited for him to answer the call, you walked to the bathroom and closed the door behind you. He didn’t keep you waiting for long.

“Y/N! I was just about to—”

“Jay, I need your help,” you interrupted, keeping your voice low so Samantha wouldn’t hear his name. You knew it would terrify her.

“S-Sure, what happened?”

“I need you to compel Samantha. Make her forget about tonight. Can… can you do that?”

There was a brief pause on the other end before he responded. “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, thanks,” you murmured, ending the call. You took a moment to collect yourself before stepping out of the bathroom and back into the room.

“He’s coming,” you said gently to Samantha as you sat beside her. “He’ll be here soon.”

A few minutes later, Samantha went to the bathroom. For the first time that night, you had a moment to yourself, a moment to think. You sighed deeply, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling.

Jay… Tonight, he showed you he’s not like other vampires. He could’ve attacked you from behind to save his friend, but instead, he tried to reason with you and even healed Samantha.

Your gaze shifted to the bracelet on your wrist. Heeseung had said he couldn’t compel you because of it. You figured it must contain vervain—the only thing that makes humans immune to compulsion. But you were a witch; compulsion didn’t work on witches, so you didn’t really need it.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. It must be Jay. Samantha was still in the bathroom. You stood up and went to open it. Sure enough, when you did, there he was.

“Hi… again,” Jay said, his voice soft, almost shy.

“Hello, Jay,” you replied briskly.

For a few moments, the two of you stood in silence, staring at each other. Then, he offered you a small, shy smile, his lips pressed together.

“Uhm… could you invite me in?” he asked hesitantly.

You’d forgotten—you needed to invite vampires into a private space before they could enter. You hesitated, knowing that once invited, Jay could come and go as he pleased. He could kill you while you were asleep. Or even right now, the moment you let him in.

But… you trusted him.

“Come on in, Jay.”

“Thanks,” he said, stepping across the threshold.

At that moment, Samantha came out of the bathroom, she froze when she saw Jay, fear flashing in her eyes. She clutched the bathroom doorframe, her voice shaky. “Y/N… w-why is he here?”

You quickly stepped toward her. “Sam, it’s okay. He’s not here to hurt you. I promise.”

Her eyes darted to Jay, who raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “I understand you’re scared,” Jay said gently. “But I’m here to help, not hurt you.”

“He healed you earlier,” you reminded her firmly. “If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t even be standing. Trust me, Sam. He’s not like Heeseung.”

Samantha hesitated, glancing between you and Jay, before finally nodding. “Okay… I’ll try.”

You guided her to sit on the couch. “This will all be over soon, I promise.”

You took off your bracelet and placed it on the table next to the couch. Jay’s eyes followed the movement, and for a brief moment, you noticed a flicker of hurt in his expression.

“Please compel her to never take off the bracelet,” you said softly.

Jay nodded, sitting down next to Samantha. He looked her directly in the eyes, his voice calm and steady. “You won’t remember anything from tonight. You decided to stay home and watch a movie. You’ll put on the bracelet and never take it off, no matter what. After that, you’ll go to bed and sleep peacefully.”

A few seconds later, Samantha picked up the bracelet, slipped it onto her wrist, and walked to her bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

“Thank you… it means a lot” you said

“Don’t thank me. It was the least I could do after what Heeseung did to her.” Jay paused, running a hand through his hair. “But… it wasn’t entirely his fault.” He sighed deeply. “He was turned into a vampire a few weeks ago. At first, he was doing fine. I taught him how to resist the urges, how to survive on blood bags without hurting anyone. But… last week, his father died.” His voice softened. “He couldn’t handle the pain of losing him, so he flipped his humanity switch. He thought shutting off his emotions would be better than feeling the grief.”

As Jay spoke, his sadness was palpable. It was strange seeing a vampire care so deeply about someone else, about doing the right thing. It challenged everything you thought you knew about them.

“Heeseung isn’t evil,” Jay continued. “Not really. Vampires… we’re not all monsters. Some of us try to be better.” He hesitated, looking at you as if to gauge your reaction. “I don’t feed on humans. Blood bags are enough for me. I made that choice a long time ago.”

Hearing that caught you off guard. For so long, vampires had been nothing but a danger to you and the people you cared about. But Jay… he wasn’t like the others. He didn’t embrace the darkness that came with his nature. Instead, he fought it. And that, more than anything, made you feel something stir inside you.

Jay and you stepped out into the aisle just outside your dorm. The cool night air brushed past as you faced each other in silence. You carefully closed the door behind you, making sure not to make any noise that could wake Samantha.

“You didn’t have to come tonight,” you said quietly. “You could’ve just… stayed out of it.”

He smiled faintly, almost shyly. “I couldn’t let Samantha suffer for something she didn’t deserve. And I couldn’t let you deal with it alone.”

Your heart softened at his words, though you refused to let it show too much. “You’re… not what I expected,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Neither are you, Hermione Granger,” he teased, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Oh, shut up, Edward Cullen.”

Jay laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Touché.”

There was a brief pause, comfortable yet charged with unspoken feelings. He tilted his head slightly and gave you a crooked smile. “So… I have to ask, after tonight… are you going to keep ghosting me, or are you finally going to answer my texts?”

You let out another soft chuckle, raising an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know… texting is kind of boring. When are you going to ask me out already?”

His smirk widened, and for a moment, he looked caught off guard, but not in a bad way. “Guess I’ll have to fix that soon, huh?”

“You’d better,” you said lightly, though your heart raced at the prospect.

Jay’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his usual confidence tempered with something gentler. “I will,” he promised, his tone quiet but resolute.

Jay nodded, his playful smirk still lingering. “Well, I guess I should let you get some sleep,” he said, glancing at the door behind you.

“Yeah, it’s been… a night,” you replied, the weight of everything settling in.

He took a step back, his expression softening just slightly. “Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice quieter now.

You gave him a small nod. “I will. Thanks, Jay.”

He flashed you one last smile. “Goodnight, Hermione,” he teased, his voice low and light.

“Goodnight, Edward,” you replied, the corner of your lips lifting as you shook your head.

Jay turned and walked away, his silhouette disappearing down the quiet street. You stayed there for a moment longer, watching him leave, before turning back toward your dorm, feeling the lingering energy of the night slowly fading into the quiet.

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gamergirl929 · 7 months ago

Text

I Want To Ruin Our Friendship (We Should Be Lovers Instead) (Sophia Smith x Reader)

You weren't big on social media, you never got in on the TikTok craze, but when your best friend, and long time crush Sophia Smith asked you to make a TikTok, you couldn't say no.

You were never big on social media, in all honesty, you didn’t see the appeal, especially when it came to TikTok.

Anytime you saw your teammates recording a TikTok, you’d roll your eyes, but go along with whatever they were doing when the camera was turned your way, half-heartedly of course.

They were big on TikTok trends, and often recorded them at camp or at friendlies.

Somehow, you weren’t entirely sure how, you’d been roped into one of these said trend, but here you were sitting side by side with your best friend, Sophia Smith, the woman noticeably fidgeting.

“Hey.” You say softly, the girl’s breath hitching when you place your hand on top of hers.

“You alright?” You ask, your brows furrowed.

Her throat bobs, her brown orbs darting to your lips before again meeting your eyes.

“Y-Yeah.” She stutters and you hum, giving her hand a squeeze before letting go, missing the light twitch at the corner of her mouth.

You were well aware that something was bothering her, you knew her too well to NOT know something was wrong.

She was your best friend and had been since you’d become roommates in college.

You knew Sophia Smith better than anyone, and she knew you better than anyone.

She was the first person you’d come out to in college, and unsurprisingly, she was incredibly supportive.

However, there was one thing she didn’t know, and that was that you were deeply in love with her and had been since college.

You inhale deeply, pulling yourself out of your thoughts before clearing your throat.

“So, what exactly are we doing here?” You ask, wondering what TikTok trend you were actually doing.

Sophia clears her throat.

“J-Just listen to this song.” She says softly before, pressing play on your phone, music filling the air

Your brows arch when Sophia starts humming, her cheeks dusted pink.

You wouldn’t admit it but you liked hearing her sing, something she did almost every morning in college when she was making coffee before class.

You’d act like her early morning peppiness was annoying, but in reality, you loved waking up to the sound of her voice.

“I think I’ve heard this song.” You say, vaguely remembering hearing it come from your best friend's phone one night.

“Y-Yeah?” She stammers tugging at the hem of her t-shirt and you nod.

It’s then that the lyrics start, the woman beside you singing quietly.

“Y/N, darling, you’re my best friend.” She sings and your cheeks flush.

“But there’s a few things, that you don’t know of.”

You quirk your eyebrows, noting that Sophia glanced away, her cheeks flushed.

“Why I borrow your lipstick so often.”

You stop yourself from playfully teasing the woman that you in fact didn’t wear makeup, but you didn’t want to interrupt her.

“I’m using your shirt as a pillowcase.” She puts her hands together and leans against them, feigning sleep.

The look on her face changes as she cups your cheeks, your breath catching in your throat.

“Soph?” You say, her throat bobbing as she sings the next set of lyrics.

“I want to ruin our friendship.” She whispers as she leans in, your heart pounding wildly.

“We should be lovers instead.” She sings before closing the distance between you.

You kiss back with no sense of hesitation, wrapping your arms around her middle as you pull her close, your lips never disconnecting.

Her arms wrap around your neck as you kiss softly.

Your lips disconnect momentarily as she crawls into your lap, her legs wrapping around your middle before your lips meet again and again, each kiss sweeter than the last.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.” Sophia whispers against your lips and you smile.

“Me too.”

The TikTok you were making is entirely forgotten as your lips reconnect, the two of you smiling against one another's lips.

You pull back, chuckling when the woman in your lap whines loudly.

“How long have you been wanting to kiss me?” You ask, playfully bumping your nose against hers and she blushes as she turns away.

“A while...” She mumbles and you smile, taking her chin between your thumb and index finger and turning her back towards you, your Y/E/C orbs meeting her dark browns.

Her cheeks darken and you smile softly, your eyes holding a softness that makes her eyes go glassy and her heart skip a beat.

“When you walked into our dorm room, tripped on the carpet and fell on the floor.” She giggles and you throw your head back with an annoyed groan.

“I was so embarrassed.” You mumble and she smiles, ducking down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

"It was adorable.” She teases and you snort.

“Sureeeee it was.” You stick your tongue out and she hums.

“What about you?” She asks, your brows furrowing in question your head cocking to the side.

Sophia giggles, cupping your cheek.

“How long have you been wanting to kiss me?” She asks and you ponder thoughtfully, already knowing the answer as you cover her hand with your own.

“When I got up off the floor and you did everything you could not to laugh when you introduced yourself.” You grin and she giggles, stroking your jawline.

“I was trying SO hard.” She says, giggling even harder and you roll your eyes.

“Oh, I know. I heard you laughing when I left to get my stuff.” You say and she snorts, burying her face in your neck as she giggles.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry.” She laughs and you scoff.

“Yeah, you SOUND really sorry.” You say as you squeeze her sides, the woman squeaking loudly.

You grin maliciously, the woman attempting to scramble out of your lap, but she’s too late considering you’d rolled the two of you over and now had her pinned beneath you, your fingers digging into her sides.

She bats at your hands as you playfully tickle her sides, only stopping when the woman’s chest is heaving as she tries to catch her breath.

You hover over her, your eyes darting around her face as she fills her lungs with air.

“You’re gonna pay for that.” She pants and you hum, burying your face in her neck and kissing her jawline.

“Oh, am I?” You ask, Sophia’s breath shuddering as you kiss her pulse point.

“Y-Yeah.” She sighs, giving you a playful glare when you pull away from her, her shining brown orbs locking with your sparkling Y/E/C’s.

“You know...” You start, Sophia’s brow arched.

“I guess TikTok isn’t THAT bad.” You shrug and she giggles.

“Does that mean you’ll make more with me?” She asks and you smirk.

“If they end this way every time, then hell yeah.”

Needless to say, you made A LOT of TikToks after that, and they all, in fact, end the same way every time.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #sophia smith x reader #sophia smith imagine #this is my first time writing for sophia so be gentle please #feedback is appreciated!

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000-pawz · 8 months ago

Text

mission p.s.h is a-go! (p.sh) ˚ · .

park sungho x fem!reader (she/her), college au, art major! reader, art major!sungho, reader is so lovesick, sungho is a nervous wreck, ft. lovingly-bothersome sidekick jaehyun + mom friend roommate yujin, shy extrovert sungho, not so shy extrovert reader <3, mutual pining, puppy love, first kisses, jaehyun has a lot of piercings because why not, the world is your wingman, a story about friendship and first loves!!!!, romantic comedy

warnings: suggestive scene (mdni pleek), some sex jokes, cursing, drinking

wc: 11.3k+

playlist ⋆｡˚ "a girl like me" by flowerovlove, "wishlist" by txt, "stylish" by loona, "blooming in the morning" by spool, "serenade" by boynextdoor

a/n: i have been working on this for.... forever..... >3< but it's finally here!!! <3 happy bonedo first anniversary to all who celebrate! also tysm for 100+ followers!!! ^___^ ur support means everything to me. i had so much fun writing this and i hope you guys have even more fun reading!!!

DEAR DIARY

11:44 a.m | weather: partly cloudy

dear diary,

so today has already gone to absolute shit!!!! i missed my morning lecture because i forgot to put my phone on the charger so it fucking died in the middle of the night and then i realized that my period started 4 days early and i ran out of pain killers and i didn’t have any time to stop by the health center and get some but even if i’m physically dying and rotting away, i HAVE to get my usual chai tea with three pumps vanilla and 1 pump brown sugar but THEN i dropped my chai tea with three pumps vanilla and 1 pump brown sugar in the middle of the courtyard and i was already late to my next class so i didn’t have time to go back and get another one and then i finally make it to fucking studio arts and my usual spot is taken by some sleeping rando who ISN’T EVEN IN THIS CLASS. WHAT ARE THEY DOING HERE??? so then i was forced to sit in the back of class and use that stupid squeaky easel that literally wobbles when you BREATHE on it and all of this happened BEFORE 12 O’CLOCK!!!! now i’m—

“watcha writing?” an all too playful voice sounds right behind you, way too close for comfort and you don’t even bother to look up—you already know who it is by the irritating jingle of his dangly jewelry and the snicker that bubbles out of his throat at your annoyed expression.

“fuck off, jaehyun,” you mumble as you continue to recount your horrible day while you wait for the first layer of paint on your easel to dry, the obnoxiously hot pink pen in your hand scribbling ferociously against the white page of your diary. you hear another irksome laugh leave his body before the chair beside you squeaks as someone pulls it out.

“shh, don’t disturb her. she’s poetically releasing her emotions...” out the corner of your eye, you see yujin glance down at your page before slightly wincing, setting her watercolors down on the table slowly. “or something…”

jaehyun takes a seat at the table in front of you, sitting backward in his chair to take a closer look at what you’re writing—any semblance of privacy was long dismissed once you became friends with the two at the beginning of the school year. freshman move-in day had been possibly one of the worst experiences of your life, all thanks to the maltipoo puppy jaehyun tried to sneak into the residence hall and yujin’s immense fear of dogs. you guys have been inseparable since.

trauma bonding, you think.

jaehyun flicks some of his brown hair out of his vision as his face contorts into something sour. “woah, when did the grinch take over your body?”

yujin scoots away and jaehyun raises his hands in surrender as you suddenly slam your diary shut, mentally rolling your eyes at their antics.

“woah, when will you learn to stay out of my business?” you shoot towards jaehyun with the straightest face ever, his lips frowning as you slide your diary off of the table and into your bag.

“hey, don’t take your anger out on me, grumpy pants.”

and that just so happens to be your final straw—like those mundane moments where you’re having the worst day known to man and then all of a sudden your key doesn’t want to fit in the keyhole and now you want to rip your door off of the hinges—and jaehyun is now that door. you lunge at the pierced man, going straight for his jugular, but yujin is quick to wrap her arms around your waist, pulling you back down into your seat as she shushes you.

“breathe, y/n, breathe,” yujin speaks in her exaggerated yoga instructor voice, the deep one that makes her sound like she’s high on shrooms. you close your eyes, forcing yourself to think of kittens and rainbows as your shoulders slowly untense. “there we go. smell the tulips and blow out the candles. that’s right. smell the tulips and blow out the—”

“why can’t they be roses?”

your eyes immediately snap open like a vampire at the smell of blood, meeting jaehyun’s highly entertained and highly aggravating expression.

“jaehyun, we talked about this. tulips smell better than ro—”

yujin’s voice is drowned out in your ears once a tall, raven-haired figure strolls into the studio. everything in the background fades to a blur as he makes his way to his usual sketching table, just a few seats away from where you reside. from here, you have a perfect view of his side profile, the sunlight streaming through the open windows lighting up his face heavenly.

any anger in your body dissipates on the spot.

he’s wearing a baby blue knit sweater—the same sweater he wore on tuesday last week (...not that you remember or anything!)—with baggy light-washed jeans that adorn a little eevee pokemon charm hanging from his front belt loop. the black converse on his feet match yours and you try not to squeal at the slight prospect of a couple's outfit. slung over his body is the green satchel that he seems to take everywhere with him, filled to the brim with notebooks and art supplies.

his black hair is messy and a little longer than the last time you have seen him. it curls over his eyebrows and down his neck, some tucked behind his naturally flushed ears. his eyelashes are so full, and even though his eyes are slightly obscured by the thin, circular glasses that sit on his nose, you can still make out the delicate shadow they cast onto his doughy cheeks. you wonder if he has a skincare routine from how smooth his skin looks, almost picture-esque as the sunrays illuminate a halo above his head. you swear a chorus of angels begin to sing in your ears.

he’s taking out his sketchpad now, and you watch the way he adjusts his glasses ever so slightly before lining up his charcoal pencils in order of point size next to his page. you’ve never gotten to see his art up close, but you’ve picked up on the fact his medium has always been a pencil of some sort—let it be graphite, pigmented colors, carbon—and you crave to see what his nimble fingers can create. his lips are pressed into a thin line as he completely submerges himself into that little bubble you notice he goes into when he starts to draw.

you think he looks the most handsome when he’s immersed like this.

you don’t realize you’re staring until you blink and register that park sungho, aka the man of your dreams, aka the most gorgeous person to ever walk these streets, aka an angel from above, is staring directly at you. with this new angle, you can fully see his pouted heart-shaped lips and slightly puffy face—he must’ve just woken up. he’s so perfect, in every way possible. your heart nearly crawls up your throat as he sends a tiny smile your way, his eyes bunching up cutely at the corners. you almost raise your hand to wave back before a voice cuts through your dazed state.

“hey, sungho!” jaehyun calls, waving his hand frantically, the many bracelets on his wrists jingling with the movement; and said sungho waves in response, contained and shy, before turning his attention back to his sketchpad. while you’re slightly disappointed that sungho hadn’t been looking at you, you mentally thank jaehyun for saving you from could’ve-been detrimental embarrassment.

you slightly deflate, slumping back down into your chair with a tiny huff—and jaehyun watches you from beginning to end, a knowing look in his eyes.

“look, y/n’s upset her little boobie bear didn’t—”

this time, you grab your barbie-esque pen and chuck it squarely at jaehyun’s nose, the plastic clinking against his nose ring. you hear yujin giggling from beside you, jaehyun shooting her a hopeless look of betrayal.

“you set yourself up for that one, myung,” she speaks before she gets up to fill her paint cup with water. jaehyun rolls his eyes with a scoff, quickly turning his attention back to you—much to your dismay.

“you should try to talk to him. he’s really nice, trust me,” jaehyun suggests with a little wiggle of his eyebrows, not-so-subtly nodding his head in sungho’s direction. your eyes can’t help but trail back over to the tall man’s frame, nearly swooning at the way he pushes his glasses up his nose with his pinky finger, squinting his eyes slightly despite the lenses as his pencil glides across the paper like a ballerina.

fuck, he’s so cute. you want to die.

“i don’t even think he knows my name,” you sigh, almost dreamily as you spectate from afar. the way he readjusts his grip on the pencil every few seconds, and the way his knee bounces unrhythmically under the table, his pokemon charm shaking with the movement. his bottom lip is caught in between his teeth now and you’re sure you might pass out as he reaches up to run his fingers through his hair, the fluffy locks falling back into place slowly as they nearly defy gravity.

oh, park sungho. you don’t know how perfect you are.

“girl, you look like a stalker,” yujin appears beside you once again, multiple watercolor brushes knocking against each other as they swim in her now water-filled cup. it’s your turn to glare this time, crossing your arms over your chest as you manage to slump even further in your seat—you aren’t sure how you haven’t fallen to the floor yet.

“i can’t help it! just… look at him,” you whine pitifully, trying to keep your voice down as you glance at him one last time. yup, still gorgeous.

jaehyun groans loudly from his spot, his bracelets clanking as he grips his hair with both hands.

“i am going to bash my head into this table if you don’t speak to him. i don’t know how much more sungho mushy-gushy talk i can take,” he complains, his eyes wide and faux-crazed as he lightly tugs his hair. he looks stupid as hell—you’ve always thought jaehyun resembles the annoying orange.

“that’s if sungho doesn’t decide to run away before she can even open her mouth.”

and there it goes. the real reason why you’ve never gotten the chance to speak to your puppy-love crush.

it’s a strange phenomenon actually, the way park sungho seems to avoid you like the plague. at first, you thought he was just incredibly shy. maybe he had chronic social anxiety, in which, you wouldn’t blame him at all—you were the exact same way before you got to college, so it would make perfect sense. he’s just a shy, shy guy who doesn’t intend on making small talk; and that would’ve been just fine with you.

but then you saw him interact with like… everyone else in the entire world, and decided to rule out that option because—what? he shows up to every single birthday party he’s invited to, says hi to all of his friends as he passes them on campus, and he even complimented your brooding english professor’s tie once! so there’s no way park sungho doesn’t know how to interact with other humans.

it’s just you. he doesn’t want to interact with you.

not to be selfish and arrogant or anything, but it’s truly a huge blow to your pride. you’ve always considered yourself to be a pretty likable person—maybe a little off-kilter, but not to the point where it literally makes people pack up their things and leave as soon as you enter the room. and yes, sungho has done that before.

so now you’re stuck in this predicament where you can’t go one night without falling asleep to the idea of holding park sungho’s lovely hand and kissing his squishy cheek and touching his luscious hair, when—in truth, horrible, horrible truth—this exact park sungho doesn’t even want to see your face.

once snapped back into reality, the realization rebirths all of your anger—at the world, at yourself, at sungho “loml” park. yujin mumbles out a little half-assed apology that you completely dismiss and jaehyun snickers as he rises to a stand, throwing something over his shoulder about how he all of a sudden has a sculpture he needs to get started on before he disappears from your sight.

he doesn’t even know how to sculpt.

when you look up, you see jaehyun giving sungho a little goodbye pat on the back, in which sungho returns with a little “see you later” and a smile that bunches his cheeks up like bread rolls. damn you park sungho and your adorable, adorable cheeks.

this is definitely going in your diary tonight.

｡‧˚🍞⭒₊˚🍎˚ · .

or at least you thought it would be going in your diary tonight.

because currently, as of 7:28 pm local time, you can’t seem to find that sparkly pink journal anywhere.

you checked your tote bag, yujin’s bag, jaehyun’s giant pockets, under your seat in the art studio, the cafeteria, and even asked around hoping someone’s heard of it through word-of-mouth—and yet, nothing. no sign of your journal at all.

if you were thinking rationally, you would have maybe thought to check your dorm room. you did end up having lunch in there with the blinds closed after your shitty day and the overwhelming need to disappear from society. or, you might have left it in your french language class because you had pulled it out mid lecture to complain about your horrible view from the very back row. it might have even fell out on your bus ride to the small dimsum restaurant located on the outskirts of your campus.

but you have been on the edge of snapping since the very moment you woke up this morning, and if you thought jaehyun’s little quips earlier brought you to your limit, then losing your diary now broke the meter.

you glumly take a seat on an unoccupied bench outside of the arts building, trying your best to hold in your tears at the absolute wreck this day has become. no chai tea, early period, squeaky easel, park sungho not even knowing your name—

“um, y/n?”

as soon as the first tear rolls down your cheek, your hear that all too familiar voice in your ears, a tall shadow blocking the slight rays of the moon in the distance. everything feels unreal, almost hallucinatory as your lift your head to see the man of all your dreams standing right in front of you with a shy smile on his perfect, perfect face.

as soon as he locks eyes with you though, his smile falters, his lips turning down into one of the softest frowns you’ve ever seen grace such an angelic face. snapping yourself out of your mini daze, you reach up with the sleeve of your jacket to quickly wipe your eyes.

not now tear ducts! the love of your life is in your vicinity! and he knows your name!

“hey, sungho! hi,” you rush out in one breath, hoping your voice isn’t too shaky.

“are you…” sungho’s question starts off as a small mumble, but he quickly cuts himself off with a tiny shake of his head. “n-nevermind. i just wanted to give this to you.”

you watch him as he digs around in his green satchel for a second before pulling out something bright pink, the street lights reflecting off of the sparkles. you feel your heart leap in your chest at the sight, jumping up from your seat.

“my journal! oh my god, thank you! where did you find it?” you quickly speak as sungho passes you your journal.

“it was in the art studio. i promise i didn’t read any of it so… yea.”

his fingers lightly brush yours for a split second and the end of his sentence falters a bit. you try not to read into it, but this moment is definitely, for sure going in your journal tonight. your first ever, longer-than-30-seconds encounter with the love of your life. totally disregarding the fact that he saw you crying…

you clutch the notebook to your chest as you give him a bright beam, trying to keep all of the squealing and fawning locked away in your mind. sungho looks incredibly gorgeous in the low ray of evening lights, strands of his shiny hair tucked behind his ear and falling over his forehead. as the wind blows, you’re able to get a whiff of the sweet cologne he always wears, vanilla and another hidden tone that mixes perfectly.

“thank you, sungho. really, thank you.” your voice is soft as you meet his sparkling eyes; they’re deep and mesmerizing, glittering with stardust as he mirrors your smile. he nods ever so slightly before gripping his satchel strap with both of his hands.

“um, yea. it’s no problem,” he speaks through a small puff of nervous laughter. you’re surprised you haven't melted to the ground in a puddle of love-ridden goo yet. “have a good night.”

“you too!” you say a little too enthusiastically. sungho simply nods again before he turns on his heel to leave towards the direction he came in. suddenly, he stops, turning back around to face you.

“i… my dorm is that way,” he rushes out before speedwalking past you without giving you a second glance. you hold back a giggle at his cute slip up, covering your mouth with your hand.

he. is. so. cute. you want to scream the words to the sky. as soon as sungho disappears around the corner, you wip out your phone, your heart pounding in your chest.

to: dumb and dumber

guys. you’ll never fucking guess what just happened.

MISSION P.S.H

6:15 a.m | weather: clear skies

dear diary,

i dreamt of him. again. please kill me already.

“...and then i was like what? because that was the same guy i hooked up with last week!” yujin spills as she dramatically reenacts her encounter at some party she went to last night. you’re having lunch with your friends in the courtyard, the chatter of students, bikes, and overhead planes mixing with the warm breeze.

“i told you he was a fuckboy. and then you called me an annoying virgin,” jaehyun deadpans as he takes a bite out of his sandwich, shrugging his shoulders. you laugh at their bickering from the other side of the table, looking back down at your journal where you are currently doodling the scene in front of you, but with yujin and jaehyun as cats.

yujin rolls her eyes, opening her mouth to rebuttal, but she stops herself as her eyes catch onto something over your shoulder. you watch as her eyes widen toward you, immediately catching onto what that stare means.

‘park sungho incoming. act normal!’

you sit up straighter, trying to act nonchalant as sungho strolls up to your table. as naturally as possible, you lift your gaze toward him, your breath catching in your throat as soon as your eyes lock onto his figure.

today, he’s in a simple white t-shirt, zip-up, and jeans with his classic green satchel, but to you, he looks other-worldly. the sun shines brightly above his head, casting a spotlight onto him as if he were standing solo on a stage. you envision red rose petals falling around him in slow motion as he blinks, his long eyelashes tickling his cheeks with the movement. his skin is slightly flushed from the humid air, his lips full and plush as a smile stretches across his perfect face.

he’s going to be the death of me, you think, holding back a dreamy sigh.

“i brought those references you asked for,” sungho directs towards jaehyun with his silky smooth voice, reaching into his satchel to pull out a blue folder of papers. you get deja vu, recalling the way his fingers brushed yours last night (and yes, you recapped the moment to yujin and jaehyun at least three times since then.)

“oh, thanks bro! i totally forgot about these,” jaehyun speaks, grabbing the folder from sungho’s perfect hands. “hey, are you still going to riwoo’s party on saturday?”

“yeah, i’ll be there. see you then?”

“yup! i’m dragging these two along with me.” sungho nods with a small smile before his eyes catch onto yujin.

“your shirt is dope, yujin. i love that band,” sungho compliments and yujin quickly jumps into a recap of how she went to their concert last week. sungho says something about him also being there with a friend and all of it goes through one ear and out of the other. “anyways, i’ll see you guys around.”

sungho gives your table one last smile, his eyes catching onto yours for a split second before he merges off into the crowd of students. the table is silent for a few beats and both of your friends turn their eyes to you, just waiting for you to say something. you sigh as you stare off into the direction sungho disappeared in, resting your cheek in your palm.

“is he avoiding me? he has to be avoiding me… like he talks to you guys but pretends like i’m not even there!” you speak through a dejected pout. yujin eyes you with something akin to pity, completely contrasting jaehyun whose face is decorated with an annoying smile.

“it’s ‘cause he’s afraid that if he looks you in the eyes, you might eat his soul.”

you completely disregard jaehyun’s comment, running through all of the possible explanations for his behavior in your mind. does he have a secret partner? or maybe he doesn’t like the smell of your perfume? what if he thinks you are butt-fuck ugly and a pain to look at? no… it’s definitely not that. you remind yourself to give your reflection an apology when you get back to your dorm.

your eyes slowly increase in size as you sit up, a eureka moment taking over your train of thought. the gasp that leaves your lips is a little too loud for a public, communal space, but it doesn’t even register in your brain.

you’ve got it all figured out.

“guys…” you start ominously, smiling widely at your friends as you brace your hands on the table. “i think he’s playing hard to get.”

jaehyun and yujin stare at you half-incredulously and half-amused, a puff of laughter even passing through jaehyun’s lips while yujin has to turn away to muffle her giggles.

“yu, i think she’s finally lost it.”

you shake your head quickly. “no, no, guys, it all makes sense. i caught him staring at me in class once—”

“anyone would stare if they saw a free-roaming demon in a college art course.”

“jaehyun, i will literally cut your tongue off.”

jaehyun pouts his snakebite-accented lips, turning to yujin with pleading eyes as he gestures towards you on the other side of the table. “did you hear her? that’s actually a threat this time. a real threat.”

yujin sighs, half-heartedly patting jaehyun’s shoulder twice to console him before giving her full attention to you.

“y/n… i think it’s time to have ‘the talk’.”

you blink blankly at yujin before glancing over at jaehyun who is nodding along to said woman’s words, a playfully solemn look on his face.

“what ‘talk’?... look, if this is about sex, i already know how babies are made so…”

“no, no, not that talk. the park sungho talk,” yujin explains, reaching across the table to place her hand on top of yours. this feels like some weird group therapy session, and to be honest, your best friends are really starting to creep you out in the way that they seem to communicate silently through their eyes.

what the fuck is going on?

“let me explain it to you in simple terms,” jaehyun sits up straight before dramatically clearing his throat. “park sungho plus girlfriend equals no-no. nada. never happened. park sungho plus crush equals ‘AHHHHHHHHH! THE WORLD IS ENDING!’. park sungho see you. park sungho ‘AHHHHHHH!!!!’”

jaehyun shouts in a high-pitched girly voice before doing a little running away motion, covering his eyes as he pretends to tremble before going back to normal.

now it’s time for both you and yujin to stare blankly at jaehyun—the latter looks incredibly proud of himself nonetheless, his chest puffed out confidently after his little performance. you slowly turn your gaze to yujin’s figure, motioning towards jaehyun next to her.

“can i get a translation or something…?”

yujin sighs before flicking jaehyun’s nose ring, resulting in a drowned out complaint about the both of you “teaming up on him” or whatever. you both don’t pay him any mind though—you have bigger things to worry about, such as—

“basically, what he’s trying to say is that sungho has a crush on you, but he’s scared because he’s never had a girlfriend before and he freaks out around you. so he… flees like a little baby rabbit when you’re near him,” yujin concludes with a bright smile, clasping her hands together.

okay.

this is not what you were expecting to hear during your wednesday afternoon lunch break. everything you’ve ever known, everything you’ve forced yourself to believe comes crumbling down all at once.

park sungho has a crush on you.

wait.

“and no one has thought to tell me this until now?” you breathe out, your eyes as wide as saucers. jaehyun shrugs, picking up his sandwich to take a bite.

“well, it’s kind of something we found out like today,” jaehyun speaks through a mouthful of lettuce and bacon, yujin nodding along next to him.

“you know han taesan from our literature class?” yujin asks, leaning towards you as she lowers her voice. you search your fried brain for any familiarity, humming in thought for a second before it clicks.

“the one who dresses like a wannabe kurt cobain?”

“yes, him. so basically, sungho confessed to him about his crush on you. and jaehyun and i, who were magically sitting behind mr. han, just so happened to accidentally see their text messages. so. yeah,” yujin explains.

the silence is loud.

“so what i’m hearing is you guys violated someone’s privacy and now you’re telling me their classified business?” you speak, blinking blankly between then.

“...yes?” jaehyun replies slowly with a guilty smile. you look at them for a few seconds before reaching your hands out for highfives.

“i knew i could trust you guys,” you affirm as you double highfive them both, jaehyun letting out a little woop woop. “so, what do i do now? i obviously can’t just walk right up to him and ask him out. i’m gonna need a plan if i’m ever going to get him to willingly talk to me.”

“oh, i’m already ten steps ahead of you, babygirl. mission p.s.h is a-go,” jaehyun declares, pulling out his phone. you tilt your head in pure confusion and you’re sure the crinkle between your brows is apparent.

“mission p—what?”

jaehyun sighs with exasperation—as if you were the cause of all of his troubles in the world—before placing his phone on the table. “mission park sungho. come on, let’s use our head, idiot.”

“i will smash your head into—”

“you will do none of those things,” yujin interrupts with a stern motherly glare before turning to jaehyun. “now can you explain this mission park sungho thing because…?”

jaehyun rolls his eyes before leaning back in his seat with a sly smile on his lips.

“i began working on it last night and i was going to show you guys when i finished, but we’re in a dire, dire situation.” jaehyun sends you dramatically sympathetic eyes and you stick your tongue out at him in return. “it’s simple, really. we just set the bait, and like the little baby rabbit he is, he’ll bite the carrot. then, once our handy work is done, y/n and sungho will live happily ever after in their fairy princess castle. it’s foolproof.”

jaehyun concludes with a triumphant smile before he slowly slides his phone over towards you like a suspicious dealer. you raise a brow at him, but take the phone anyways.

“phase one, get his attention. so just like… get him jealous?” you ask, cocking your head. jaehyun nods quickly in response, his hair bouncing like an overly excited puppy.

“mhm, yup! i know a guy who’s perfect for this.”

“that sounds… sketchy… but a good idea nonetheless.” you squint your eyes a bit as you continue reading the almost illegible notes app ramble. “and then phase two…”

“get him alone. he’s going to be at riwoo’s party, right? right?” you and yujin nod in response. “so we find a way to get him and y/n alone so they can… you know…” jaehyun does some weird, obscure motion with his fingers and yujin gently places her hand on top of his to stop it immediately.

“this is literally phase two, myungjae. slow down,” yujin chastises before turning to you. “what do you think, y/n?”

“we may need to tweak phase two a bit, but this looks… surprisingly safe…” you mutter as you read through the plan once again. “why is phase three just a bunch of question marks and thinking emojis…?”

“i didn’t get to finish it. i had more important things to tend to last night,” jaehyun smiles menacingly. yujin gags and you groan, rolling your eyes.

“i don’t even wanna know,” you say, trying to clear your mind of whatever the hell he meant by that.

“i guess we’ll just figure something out when we get there?” yujin suggests, looking between you two for approval. you nod in agreement because, well, you’re running out of options here. sungho is one of the world’s most desirable bachelors! you can’t just wait around for another girl to come by and woo him. you need to get to work asap.

“don’t worry. i’ll come up with something. they don’t call me myungstein for nothing,” jaehyun runs his fingers through his hair cockily, trying to subtly flex his nonexistent muscles.

“literally no one… no one calls you that…” you trail off but keep the rest of your words to yourself. you owe it to him for making up this plan in the first place.

at this point, you’re going to run out of pages in your journal before the year ends.

PHASE ONE: GET HIS ATTENTION (easy enough, right?)

11:37 a.m | weather: sunny with a nice breeze

dear diary,

i’ve decided to listen to myung jaehyun for once. i apologize in advance to my future self. i’m desperate okay?!?!?!

“remember what we practiced?” jaehyun whispers to you as you stand outside of the campus cafe where sungho works. yujin is already stationed inside of the cafe to make sure everything goes well. through the big glass window, you see her sitting in the corner with a comically large newspaper and sunglasses sitting low on her nose. not suspicious at all.

“yes. flirt with that guy with the luscious hair and make sure sungho hears,” you recite the exact words jaehyun had told you on your walk here. jaehyun gives you an affirmative hum, dropping his hand onto your shoulder.

“okay, let’s practice right now. pretend i’m luscious hair guy,” you open your mouth to argue, but jaehyun is already getting into character, dramatically running his fingers through his hair, slipping a cartoonish shmoulder on his face. “hey, pretty lady.”

“jaehyun, that’s gross. no.”

“who’s jaehyun? is he your boyfriend? of course a beauty like you would already be taken,” he speaks in a low voice before biting his lip in the least seductive way possible.

you try not to gag at his words, shrugging his hand off of your shoulder. “i’m going in now. bye.”

drowning out jaehyun’s objections, you open the door of the cafe, the little bells above the door jingling with the movement. your eyes scan the cafe for a second before they land on a familiar figure making small talk with some guy as he serves him coffee. he looks so handsome in his work uniform, a white button-up and brown slacks with a matching brown apron. his hair is a little curlier than usual and he has on his glasses again today.

you definitely wouldn’t mind seeing this every day. maybe you should come to this cafe more often.

you try to calm the frantic beating of your heart as you give yujin a curt nod. she gives you one back before ducking behind the newspaper again. it’s go time.

it doesn’t take you long to spot “luscious hair guy”, seeing as he’s currently working the front register. he’s tall and attractive, the perfect bait. honestly, you have no idea what jaehyun bribed him with to get him to go with your plan, and honestly, you don’t really want to know.

you quickly adjust your clothes as you walk up to the counter. luscious hair guy’s eyes lock onto yours and you offer him an affable smile.

“hi!” you greet brightly before leaning in to quickly whisper the code word “p.s.h”. luscious hair guy nods quickly in recognition before the both of you get into character.

“hello! what can i get for you today?” he asks with a glimmering smile, leaning forward in interest. you pretend to think, tapping your lips as you glance up at the menu.

“hm… i’ve never been here before… what do you recommend?” you ask with a (hopefully) flirtatious smile. just then, you notice sungho slip behind the counter to put some dishes away, his eyes widening once he sees your face. it takes less than two seconds for him to duck his head away, turning his back to you as he frantically begins organizing some mugs.

“the vanilla caramel latte is really good,” leehan suggests, shooting you an award winning smile. someone get this guy a oscar!

“then i’ll get that,” you dramatically glance down at his name tag. “thanks, leehan.”

over the tall man’s shoulder, you notice sungho inconspicuously walk over to the front counter, his eyes flickering over to the both of you for a split second. he busies himself by adjusting the pastry display, but you can see him definitely listening in on your conversation.

“i’m sorry if this sounds odd, but you have a really beautiful smile,” leehan compliments shyly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. you gasp before letting out a small giggle.

“wow, thank you!” you breathe out, blinking up at leehan coyly. “you’re pretty cute yourself.”

“that means a lot coming from a pretty girl like you.” in your peripheral, you see sungho slightly tense up, his entire body stilling for a moment. “i’ll get that right out for you.”

at those words words, sungho abruptly stands up, nearly slamming the display shut before going to wipe down tables. leehan smiles at you once sungho’s back is turned to the both of you, trying to hold in his laughter.

“he’s upset,” leehan mouths, nodding his head towards sungho who is currently aggressively scrubbing an already stainless table. perfect.

you head over to a vacant table, a few away from yujin, but still close enough to whisper “i think it’s working”. yujin lowers her sunglasses with a manicured nail, glancing over at sungho who is aggressively scrubbing another table; his lips are pouted and his eyebrows are slightly furrowed. she turns back to you with a knowing look, nodding her head.

you scroll on your phone for a bit, making sure to update jaehyun who had a presentation this afternoon. you’re sure that if he were free, he’d be in a wig and spectacles, adorned in a trench coat and briefcase right there with yujin. maybe his absence is for the better.

a few minutes later, you hear that all too familiar, lovely voice flow through the quiet buzz of the cafe. you look up from your phone to see leehan moving to plate your order with sungho hot on his heels.

“leehan, i can take that order for you,” sungho speaks, his gentle voice a little sharper around the edges. you see leehan brush him off with a warm smile, adjusting the mug on the tray.

“oh, it’s okay, i’ve got it,” he says, but sungho quickly cuts him off.

“no, no, i insist. really.” sungho gives leehan a tight-lipped smile before shooing him off to take another order. your eyes widen, quickly turning toward yujin who’s wiggling her eyebrows at you over the newspaper.

“it worked!” she mouths. you hide your smile behind your hand as you nod quickly before looking down at your phone to text jaehyun.

to: dumber

the fish has landed in the hole. or however that goes

when you finally look back up, sungho is making his way over to you, his bottom lip cutely caught between his teeth.

“oh, hi sungho!” you greet when he stops at your table, awkwardly holding the tray in front of his chest.

“hi, y/n. uh, here you go.” sungho gives you a shaky smile and you resist the urge to coo. he’s so cute, in the way his hands shake slightly as he lowers the mug and a slice of strawberry cake onto the table.

“oh, i didn’t order the cake!” you say, meeting his eyes. sungho nervously laughs as he tucks the now empty tray under his arm.

“it’s… um, it’s on the house,” he messily motions towards your table before gluing his arms back to his sides. “everything is.”

“really? you’re so sweet, sungho. thank you.” you think you are going to float out of your seat. he quickly looks away from your gaze after your compliment, redirecting his eyes to his shoes. his ears are slightly blushed on the tips, his circular glasses slipping down his nose slightly.

“don’t mention it,” he mumbles, his cheeks dusted an apple red that match his ears. “also, your um… your outfit is really nice.”

yup. you’re definitely floating.

“thank you so much! you look nice, too. i mean, you look nice in everything,” you giggle, watching the way sungho’s wide eyes shoot up to yours. he looks like a surprised kitten with the way his black curls fall into his face at the sudden movement. you get the sudden urge to gently brush them away, but you remind yourself of proper etiquette and keep your hands to yourself.

“that’s… that’s not true, but thank you,” he speaks quietly. you open your mouth to rebuttal, but sungho simply gives you a quick nod and scurries off back to the counter. you can’t even be disappointed this time—that little interaction was enough to feed your delusions for the next month and a half.

as soon as sungho makes it back behind the counter, you see him drop his head into his hands in embarrassment, shaking his head. leehan comes up behind him to give him a pat on the back, trying to hold in his laughter. the luscious haired guy gives you a thumbs up over sungho’s shoulder and you shoot him one back with a wide smile. mission accomplished, you guess as you take a bite of the fluffy cake.

so sweet.

｡‧˚🍞⭒₊˚🍎˚ · .

5:14 p.m | weather: ANGELS SINGING FROM ABOVE

dear diary,

park sungho wrote his number on the napkin. i have park sungho's number. he gave me his number. we're sooooo back.

PHASE TWO: GET HIM ALONE (and not in the creepy way!!!)

if there was one thing about your best friends, it would be how hard they party. it’s not like you were a prude or anything—definitely not that—but these two took parties to a different level. you aren’t sure how long you’ve been dancing in between jaehyun and yujin, squeezed between other sweaty bodies as the music thrums through your veins. jaehyun’s hands are on your hips and yujin’s arms are wrapped around your shoulders as you laugh with your head thrown back, letting loose. there is no room to be shy when it comes to partying with them.

your friend riwoo went all out for this end of the semester party, it seems. he rented out a beach house that sits right along the shore and you’re pretty sure he invited more than half of your entire university. you already greeted the host with hugs and small talk before you went straight for the drinks. as the song playing through the speakers comes to an end, the dj announces that fireworks are going off at the beach at 2 a.m, so people start stumbling and filing out of the house to see the pretty lights and colors.

“you wanna get another drink?” yujin shouts into your ear and you nod quickly. you definitely aren’t drunk enough—especially for what you guys have planned tonight. phase two.

“i’m gonna go find sungho,” jaehyun manages to say in his already drunken state before disappearing into the crowd, greeting at least 3 people as he makes his way through. you grab yujin’s hand to tug her toward the nearly vacant kitchen. most of the drinks are outside at the beach, but this is all a part of the plan. you rummage around in the fridge hoping to find anything to calm your nerves.

“calm down, y/n. you look like you’re going to explode,” yujin laughs from behind you, leaning against the marble island.

“because i am. i’ve never been alone with him before. what if i say something stupid?” you whine, still searching for anything that isn’t soda or juice.

“...like you always do?” yujin quips back quickly. you pause to give her a tiny glare over your shoulder before you deflate, turning back to the fridge.

“...fair. but still! i really don’t want to mess this up,” you sigh. as if the fridge itself has begun to pity you, you end up finding something tucked away near the back, though you’re freaking out too much to even read the label. with a shrug, you uncap it and drink straight from the bottle.

“you got this. remember, he already likes you. i don’t think he can be saved at this point.”

“you’re right,” you say, looking down at your heels, but once her words fully process in your tipsy mind, your head snaps right back up “wait, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means that all you have to be is yourself. we’re all rooting for you!” yujin rushes over to plant a kiss on your cheek before patting your head. “now, i have an appointment upstairs, so i’ll see you later! keep me updated!”

“wait, yujin!” you call, but she’s already slipped right through your fingers. you huff as she disappears around the corner, her menacing giggles fading into the music like an evil villain. whatever. you have more important things to worry about right now—such as sungho entering the kitchen not even a beat later looking otherworldly.

your fingers nearly slip on the neck of the bottle as your eyes lock onto each other’s. sungho looks good. and by good, you mean you-want-to-jump-his-bones-right-here-right-now good.

his usually messy hair is pushed back and out of his face, a few strands falling onto his forehead. he’s ditched his glasses and his eyes look even more sharp and enticing like this—as if he’s staring straight into your soul. he’s wearing a cropped black tee with jeans, adorning multiple silver necklaces that shine against his skin. his soft lips are glossy from the drink in his hands, his cheek slightly flushed from the alcohol.

you’ve never seen him look like this before. the cute park sungho you’re so used to is somewhere dead in a ditch right now. god.

you can’t even speak as he shoots you a smile, his eyes softening with familiarity.

“hey,” he says, his gaze flickering to the bottle in your hands. “you alright there?”

you look down at your hands, quickly moving to place the bottle on the counter behind you with a guilty smile.

“yeah—yeah, no, i’m great. perfect, actually.” you find yourself stumbling over your own words. if you thought you weren’t drunk enough to handle this before, now you think you are too drunk to even process the sight in front of you.

“why’re you in here alone? everyone’s heading down to the beach,” sungho says as he rounds the island.

he has to be drunk, if not for the way he so boldly rakes his eyes over your body without shame. you swallow, blinking up at him. you can see him very obviously checking you out, his eyes running up the expanse of your exposed legs to the hem of your mini dress. he’s not too close, but you can still smell his vanilla-and-something-secret cologne with the proximity. you feel yourself grow weak in the knees, reaching back to hold onto the counter behind you.

“i could be asking you the same thing,” you shoot back, trying to regain your confidence as you catch his eyes. sungho lets out of a puff of laughter, dropping his gaze for a second before looking back up at you. you feel your heart catch in your throat at the way his eyelashes flutter so beautiful, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip absentmindedly.

“i guess i was looking for you,” he speaks quietly, so sincerely that you aren’t sure if he knows the effect he has on you right now.

“well, i’m here now,” you mumble back.

“yeah. you are.”

the silence in between you guys is incredibly heavy, dripping with unsaid words and you can’t seem to find any of them. they all feel stuck in your throat as sungho’s eyes flicker in between yours. for once, he’s not the first one to break eye contact—and you even watch as he takes a few steps closer to you until he’s standing directly in front of you.

“y/n…” he whispers, leaning down so only you can hear him. his hair tickles your face and you find yourself frozen, unable to move. “can i… can i kiss you?”

okay, he’s definitely drunk. but so are you, so you have nothing to lose.

“yes. please,” you whisper back and he’s on you before you can even blink.

sungho’s lips are as plush and sweet as you imagined them to be. he tastes of the fruity alcohol that sits in his now abandoned cup,your stomach flipping as he gently works his lips against yours. one of his hands comes up to cup your cheek, and you notice his fingers slightly shaking against your skin. even when he’s like this, he’s still so cute, it drives you crazy.

you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you until your bodies are pressed flush against each other. you tangle your fingers into his hair and at your actions, he softly sighs, falling into you even more. you swallow all of his noises as you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip for permission; pliantly, he parts his lips for you, a quiet moan leaving his lips when you slightly tug on his hair.

you feel his strong arm circle around your waist, his fingers splayed out against the fabric of your thin dress. you’re wrapped up in his scent, an all encompassing mantra of sungho, sungho, sungho filling your brain. he handles you gently, but so desperately as he licks into your mouth, his teeth grazing over your lips.

you can’t help the noises leaving your mouth as he subconsciously slips a leg in between yours, holding you impossibly closer to him. you can feel his rapid heart beat through his shirt, and you’re sure your own heart is pounding just as fast. he’s addicting in all sense of the word, your mind growing foggy as you grind up into him. he guides you with his arm, his other hand rubbing soothing circles onto your cheek. it’s everything and more, and when he finally parts for air, you find yourself chasing after his lips desperately.

“is this—is this okay?” sungho stutters through a whisper, referring to the position the two of you are in.

you nod quickly, biting your lip as you look up into his eyes. his pupils are fully blown out, his lips bitten red, covered in a thin layer of your saliva. his chest rises and falls quickly as he looks down at you and something akin to pride fills your chest at the sight. you made him like this. he’s so perfect.

“fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes out before capturing your lips again. he’s a little more feverish this time, moaning against your lips as you grind against his leg. he seems to be getting off on you getting off, and the thought alone is driving you crazy.

you don’t even think about how you both are still in plain sight, right up against the kitchen counter where anyone could walk in at any time. and the little bubble that the two of you have built comes crashing down as a familiar voice breaks through your muddled haze.

“i’m gonna puke. need water,” jaehyun shouts as he runs into the kitchen before getting dizzy, moving to sit criss cross on the floor with his head in his hands.

“oh my god,” you groan as sungho hesitantly pulls himself away from you. “i’m so sorry, sungho.”

he’s clearly disheveled, his shirt slightly riding up exposing the smooth expanse of his lower stomach. his hair is a mess from your fingers, his lips are bruised, and it’s almost impossible to not notice the obvious bulge in his pants. despite it all, he’s still an angel, offering you a gentle smile.

“i’ll get him water, don’t worry,” sungho says, his face flushed red as he goes to grab a cup. you turn your gaze to the shitfaced jaehyun on the floor—you hold back any and all urges to cuss him out because 1. he’s incredibly drunk so the words won’t hurt him enough and 2. sungho is right there.

you walk over to crouch down in front of jaehyun, placing a hand on his shoulder. “keep it in, myungjae, or i swear…”

jaehyun mumbles some incomprehensible gibberish and you sigh quietly. as much of a cockblock as he is right now, your friends’ wellbeing always comes first.

“here,” sungho says from above you. you look up to see him holding out a cup of water to you with a tiny, awkward smile on his lips.

you already want to kiss him again.

“thank you,” you reply softly, returning the smile. “myung, you awake?” you shake jaehyun’s shoulder a few times before he finally slurs out more gibberish. “i’m gonna need words, hun.”

“i think… i think i’m drunk…” he mumbles before groaning again, slumping forward against you.

“yeah, no shit,” you deadpan. you place the water down next to you so you can lift his head up with both hands. jaehyun’s cheeks squish together like a chipmunk as he sleepy blinks at you. “wake up. where’s yujin?”

“she left with someone… i didn’t see…” he trails off before slumping forward again. “i’m gonna puke.”

“no, you’re not. drink this.” you try your best to help him drink the water, even though most of it spills onto his shirt. whatever. “i’m taking you home.”

jaehyun doesn’t respond other than a hiccup and another incomprehensible mumble.

“do you need some help?”

oh, right. sungho is still right here. you feel half-embarrassed and half-disappointed at the prospect of leaving him high and dry right here, but jaehyun needs your help right now. you wave sungho off with a small laugh and a shake of your head.

“i got him. we’ll call a driver.”

“are you sure? i can go with you guys.”

“it’s okay! enjoy the party.” you insist, trying to get jaehyun to drink more water. sungho nibbles on his lip in thought, watching the scene in from of him.

“i’ll wait outside with you guys at least.”

“you really don’t have to…” but sungho cuts you off with an insistent look and you find yourself giving in all too quickly. “okay. can you help me get him up?”

with much struggle and some extra hands from angel sungho, you guys manage to get jaehyun on his feet. you throw his arm over your shoulders and wrap your own around his waist to hold him up straight. sungho helps you steady him from the other side and you mentally thank him a thousand times over again because you’re sure jaehyun would’ve already crushed you by now if he wasn’t here.

“carry me like a princess,” jaehyun mumbles, lolling his head to the side, his entire body complete jelly.

“i’m not carrying you like a princess, jaehyun,” you speak blankly as you make your way to the front of the beach house.

“sungho, carry me like a princess.” all sungho does it laugh lightly and take more of jaehyun’s weight from you.

“come on, myungjae. left foot, right foot… there you go. you’re actually walking now, good job.”

｡‧˚🍞⭒₊˚🍎˚ · .

sungho waits with the both of you on the steps, jaehyun half asleep on your shoulder. what a way to end your night. sungho is eerily quiet as he watches the party-goers in the distance, the fireworks painting the sky in an array of colors and light. it’s beautiful you think, and as you turn your head to gaze at sungho, the lights reflecting in his dark eyes, you think he’s even more beautiful.

“are you… are you sure you’ll be okay?” sungho suddenly asks, turning his head to face you.

“i’m sure. i don’t want to ruin your night,” you reply with a small smile, though sungho frowns at your words.

“you could never ruin my night,” he says so seriously, you think you might’ve misheard for a moment. sungho’s gaze is heavy on you and you’re at a loss for words again, your mouth clamping shut. you feel your stomach do flips at his words, so simple yet so perfect. everything he does makes you fall for him even more.

you don’t speak for a few minutes after that and you don’t need to. the silence is calming this time. of course, there are a million things you want to say to sungho, but now doesn’t feel like the right time. not when jaehyun is a zombie next to you, mumbling in his half-asleep daze. sungho seems to be keeping his words to himself as well, glancing over at you from time to time.

finally, a black car pulls up in the driveway and you get a notification that your driver is here.

“i—i think that’s our car. thank you for your help, sungho,” you speak as you go to shake jaehyun awake.

“yeah, it’s no problem,” sungho sheepishly smiles, tucking his hands in his pockets. “um, y/n…?”

“hm?” you ask over your shoulder as you help your mumbling best friend to a stand. sungho watches the scene in front of him before shaking his head.

“...nevermind. get back safely, okay?” when you meet his eyes again, they’re sparkling with something unsaid. and somehow, you know exactly what he’s trying to say.

“will do,” you affirm with a small smile before shushing jaehyun as he begins to whine about needing to puke again. “goodnight, sungho!!”

“goodnight, y/n.”

your clingy, drunk best friend drops his head onto your shoulder again as soon as you manage to get into the car, cuddling up to your side like a koala. with a sigh, you gaze out of the window and back toward the house. none of this feels real yet, but you’re sure it’ll all hit you once you’re completely sober.

as you begin to drive off, you notice a figure with black hair softly banging his head against the front wall of the house before regaining his composure, making his way back down to the beach.

｡‧˚🍞⭒₊˚🍎˚ · .

12:47 p.m | weather: chilly

dear diary,

we kissed. we actually kissed. but he was drunk, so i don’t know what any of this means. did he mean to kiss me? does he regret it? he hasn’t texted me, or called me. should i text him first? i’ve never been this nervous over anything before. maybe because it all feels too real now. i like him a lot. i don’t want to ruin this.

also jaehyun puked in my dorm last night. great.

PHASE THREE: UH… NOT SURE YET (never let myung jaehyun plan anything)

you usually aren’t one to bed rot, but it’s been two days since riwoo’s party and you’re sure that you are absolutely done for.

you had finally gave in and texted sungho asking if he got home safe that night. he replied with the driest message you’ve ever seen, and left you on delivered after you asked him what his plans were for the week.

and yes, you called for a best friend night so you could cry and tell you friends everything that happened. yujin had suggested that maybe he just needed some time to process things—it wouldn’t be out of character for him to avoid you in the first place, but you really thought you had made some semblance of progress that night.

jaehyun suggested that maybe he realized you are a bad kisser and never wants to see you again. you chose to flick him on the forehead and proceed to attempt suffocation with a pillow (which did not work. sadly.)

now you’re laying in your bed hugging a plushie as you sadly scroll through your timeline at 4 p.m on a sunny sunday afternoon. yujin is out probably seeing the world why you are here hoping to disappear from it. you would’ve never thought that being ghosted could hurt you this bad—probably because you have never liked anyone as much as you like sungho.

your heart physically hurts, but you try your best to not think too negatively. maybe yujin was right. maybe he just needed to sort things out by himself first. jaehyun, on the other hand, can go to hell.

you continue to scroll through funny cat videos until you suddenly get an incoming call from “p.s.h <3”.

the speed that you sit up at could beat lightning, your eyes comically widening as the caller i.d fills the screen. your fingers answer the call before you can even run through the possibilities of delusion and hallucination, pressing the phone to your ear.

“hello?” you speak, trying to sound as normal as possible. there’s a bit of shuffling on the other end of the line before sungho’s voice flows through.

“hey, y/n. are you free right now?” sungho asks, his voice half-unsure and half-hopeful. you bite your lip to suppress the smile creeping onto your face.

“right now…? i guess i have some time,” you exaggerate. what? he ghosted you for two days! you can’t seem too available!

sungho lets out a breath from the other end of the line, shuffling around again. “um, sorry if this is sudden, but can we meet up? i… i need to see you right now.”

you have to physically clutch your blanket in order to stop yourself from jumping with joy. park sungho wants to see you. park sungho wants to see you right now! it seems as if all of your wishes have been granted. fuck you, myung jaehyun!

“yeah, we can meet up. where?”

｡‧˚🍞⭒₊˚🍎˚ · .

you notice sungho’s messy black hair as soon as you turn the corner to the flower garden situated in the middle of the large park across the street from your campus. he’s wearing a black long sleeve and jeans with a belt, his green satchel resting on the bench next to him. his glasses hang on the edge of the nose and he seems to be sketching something, his brows slightly furrowed as he focuses intently on his page.

those familiar fluttery feelings fill your chest when he looks up at the sound of your footsteps in the grass. his gaze softens when he meets your eyes, closing his sketchbook as you near him.

“hi,” you start with a shy smile. you suddenly feel self-conscious with his heavy gaze on you, looking down at your shoes. you realize that you’re both wearing converses again today.

“hi,” sungho says before motioning to the empty spot on the bench next to him. “sit, sit.”

you nod once, cautiously taking a seat next to him. your heart pounds in your chest at the close proximity, which is ridiculous considering the fact that you two were much closer just a couple of days ago, but for some reason, everything feels a little different this time.

late spring flowers bloom around you, pinks and yellows mixing with the green shrubbery. it’s sunny out, but a a cool breeze combats the bright sun rays. it’s a perfect day and sungho looks even more perfect. he’s back to his usual self it seems, unable to meet your eyes as he clears his throat.

“so, um… i just want to start off by saying that i’m sorry.”

you make a small sound of confusion, tilting your head at him. “sorry about what? you didn’t do anything wrong…”

“no, i did. i haven’t spoken to you since the party and i just… i don’t know. i got stuck in my own head,” sungho explains softly as he peeks up at you. his leg is bouncing slightly with nervousness and you want to reach over and comfort him. “i thought that maybe you only kissed me because we were both drunk. or maybe you felt pressured to… i don’t know. it’s stupid.”

he shakes his head before looking down at his lap, wringing his hands nervously. this time, you actually do reach a hand out, your fingers resting atop his. his hands immediately still as he lifts his head to find your eyes. they’re completely vulnerable, all of his guards lowered around you.

“it’s not stupid. i didn’t feel pressured to do anything. i kissed you because that’s what i’ve wanted to do for a whole year now.”

sungho’s eyes widen at your words, his mouth dropping open a bit in shock. “a whole year?”

“sungho, i have liked you ever since that introductory art class in freshman year. i thought that you didn’t like me,” you finally confess. sungho frowns at your words, his fingers calmly moving to lace with yours. his hands are as soft as his gaze on you and you feel yourself settle at his touch, relaxing a bit as his thumb brushes against the back of your hand.

“i’m sorry that i made you feel that way. i just get really nervous when you’re around, as you can see,” he laughs, looking down at his bouncing leg. “i don’t know why it took me so long to say this, but i’m not going to wait any longer. my friend, taesan, kinda knocked some sense into me yesterday.”

you mentally thank kurt cobain, trying to conceal the sun-shaming smile threatening to appear on your face. sungho looks incredibly nervous as he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second—and when he opens them again, they drip with so much sincerity and affection, you feel all of the air leave your lungs.

“y/n, i like you. i like everything about you, and i’m sorry i’ve been such a coward this whole time. i guess i just never thought that someone like you, someone so beautiful, and talented, and sweet, would like someone like me,” he speaks, laughing a bit at himself at the end. you quickly shake your head, squeezing his hand.

“you’re also beautiful, talented, and sweet, though…” you mutter through a pout because—how could he ever think he was anything but all of the good things in the world!

“i’m also an idiot for waiting this long,” he adds and okay, that you can agree with, but…

“i guess i am too, then,” you respond through a tiny smile. this moment is all you could’ve asked for. “sungho, can i kiss you?”

the words leave your slips before you can catch them, but sungho gives you no time to back track. with a small smile and a tiny nod, he reaches up to cup the side of your face and you get deja vu as soon as his skin touches yours.

“please,” he whispers with pleading eyes.

you are so down bad, it’s insane.

this kiss feels like your first some reason; the your heart flutters as he delicately presses his lips to yours. now that you’re fully sober, you’re hyper aware of everything.his fingers tremble with nervousness and you smile into this kiss. there’s no reason to rush as you take him in, all of him, from his vanilla cologne, to his careful hands.

his entire body melts as you rest a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the pads of your fingertips. you can’t help but giggle a bit as you feel just how fast his heart is beating, somehow even faster than last time. sungho slowly pulls away, looking at you with pink dusted cheeks.

“why are you laughing?” he asks cutely, cocking his head like a curious kitten.

“you’re just so cute. i can’t help it,” you smile before quickly pecking his lips again. sungho’s cheeks brighten at your words, reaching up to cover his face with his hands.

“you can’t just say things like that!”

“oh? i can’t?” you ask teasingly. he drops his hands and shakes his head at you with a pout. “what about if i were your girlfriend? can i say it then?”

“only if i get to be your boyfriend,” sungho says back, a tiny smile climbing onto his lips. you pretend to think for a second, tapping your finger on your chin.

“hm… sounds like a fair deal to me.”

“then a deal it is.”

｡‧˚🍞⭒₊˚🍎˚ · .

“guys. guys. it was so amazing. we confessed to each other, and then we took a walk together and held hands, and then we got lunch together before his class, and then we…” you ramble on about your day with sungho as you sit with your best friends on a blanket in the field, sighing dreamily as you reminiscence about his soft lips and cute smiles. he’s so perfect, in every single way. you can’t believe you can call yourself his girlfriend now.

“were the flowers pretty?” yujin asks from where she’s laying on her back, looking up at the multi-hued sky. jaehyun chuckles from his spot in between you guys, his arms folded behind his head as his eyes follow a passing bird.

“of course they were! and they even—wait. wait… how did you know i was at the flower garden?” you ask, looking in between the both of them with accusation. they give each other another one of those classic communicating-with-eyes looks before turning to you with knowing smiles. “oh my god. you guys planned this, didn’t you?”

“yup! i perfected it last night,” jaehyun smiles, throwing an arm over your shoulder. "phase three? let nature take its course. i managed to get some help from kurt ‘taesan’ cobain yesterday.”

“you are actually insane,” you speak dumbfoundedly. there’s nothing else you can say though because at the end of the day, sungho is now yours and you are his. albeit, the way you got here was a little iffy.

“myungstein, i’m telling you. the nation’s #1 matchmaker,” jaehyun speaks cockily, folding his hands behind his head as he turns to you with a cheeky smile.

“nope. still not calling you that.” you roll your eyes at his antics, but you can’t stop the smile from slipping onto your lips as the three of you watch the sunset. you’re content, the soft breeze drifting across your cheeks, the scent of vanilla and blushed cheeks soothing your mind.

｡‧˚🍞⭒₊˚🍎˚ · .

5:51 pm | weather: clear skies

dear diary,

park sungho is my boyfriend now :) <3 yay

reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! thank u...<3 x

masterlist

370 notes · View notes

mamayan · 1 year ago

Text

★MANNERS☆

Shigaraki Tomura x Fem! Reader x Shuichi Iguchi (Spinner)

Tomura and Spinner decide Katsuki’s lil sis needs to learn some manners. Tomura is happy to help.

TW: DARK CONTENT • NONCON (full on) • NSFW • Alcohol consumption • Forced alcohol consumption (anally) • Abuse/Manipulation • Gaslighting • Piss • Forced Enema (using beer) • Oral (M) • PIV • Rough Sex • Degradation/Humiliation • Fem! Reader • Quirkless/College AU • Not proof read!

A/N: Don’t come for me, I had a dream and needed to get it out lol

“Man don’t fuckin’—! Shit! Go left! Go fuckin’ left dammit’! NO! Fuck!” The controller went sailing across the room, hitting drywall and knocking down a corner of a poorly taped up poster near the stairwell.

“Hey dickwad, watch the fuckin’ face,” Dry eyes, bloodshot from staring at the tv all night, looked up.

You looked pissed, hair messy and face and clothing crumpled like you’d just rolled out of bed.

“It three in the morning you shitheads, shut up!” Your screech was akin to a pterodactyl, eyes blazing with fury as you pointed a manicured finger at all of them. “I have class in the morning! Shut this shit off and go to bed.” Like the whirlwind you appeared as, you were gone, stomping loudly up the cheap wooden stairs leading up from the basement smelling of stale beer and weed.

“What a—,”

“Cunt.” Tomura finished, looking at his friend with a roll of his eyes.

“She always such a bitch?” Tomura asks, curiously looking up at your ass as you slam the door shut behind you.

Shuichi looked awkward, “She’s his lil sis, so yeah, kind of always a bitch.”

“No shit? She’s firecracker’s sister?” Tomura looked shocked by the information before scoffing. “Makes sense then,” he’s back to focusing on the game, and the two resume their shouting contest at the tv.

They don’t know they’d be getting redecorated with kitchen condiments when they emerged from downstairs.

“Who the fuck?!” Spinner was nearly in tears, hot sauce directly in his eyes.

Tomura was oddly silent though despite standing slumped with ketchup and mayo dripping down his cheek, glaring balefully beneath his bangs as you snorted and tossed the empty bottle of mustard onto the floor. “I know shit for brains at least pays rent here, but you don’t,” you’re once again pointing a finger at him. “Listen crusty, me and my bro pay most of the mortgage, and then the other half is paid by Touya’s rich daddy and his pocket change.” Shuichi’s glare flattens a bit in fear under your icy stare as you glance at him like a bug beneath your foot. “You come over here all the damn time just to scream at the tv and lose, so do us all a favor, and stop showing your lotion needing ass around anymore.”

You leave just like that, finally feeling free from the incessant noise and nonsense as you get ready for your first class of the day, knowing your lab in the evening would be followed by a good night’s rest, finally.

Or not—

You return in the evening to another house party, furiously wondering which idiot set it up this time. Was it Katsuki or Touya? Shuichi was too much a follower and introvert to set up his own. The entire neighborhood was awake it seemed and eager to get drunk and wild, college students spilling out the seams of your home as you groan and push your way inside. Hands grab at you from all angles, only to feel the prick of your sharp nails in retaliation.

You spotted the spiky blonde hair of your idiot brother, his scowl matching your own as you confront him.

“The fuck dude?”

“Don’t fuck dude me, th’fuck’r doin’ home early?” He’s clearly intoxicated despite his stone faced demeanor, speech slurred as he sways a little. A pretty girl is looking at you with irritation for having interrupted her capture of prey.

“Put the nails away Babezilla, he’s my fuckin’ brother,” you sneer, rolling your eyes as you level him with a new found glare from the depths of hell.

“Everyone better be out before midnight or I’m lighting this shit on fire and claiming the insurance on the house and your body.”

“D’you take out insurance on my fuckin’ life?”

“Fuck around and find out.” With that you leave, Katsuki’s stunned face slowly morphing into one of rage as he screams out after you, held back by the girl half his size holding on to him like a desperate dog owner to their hound who smells blood.

Unbeknownst to you, you’re being watched. Carefully. As you sashay around the dirty house party, despite your terrible attitude, telling people what time to leave.

“I think she needs to learn a lesson in manners.” Shuichi glances over at Tomura, watching the young male scratch as his neck till red begins to pull up and spill. The crimson against his almost grayish skin looks ghastly.

“Y-yeah man…” something about the violent look in those garnet eyes makes him nervous.

“Go tell her I’m trying to take a piss on her bed.”

“Dude what? Why would I do that?” Shuichi looks stunned, making a face of pure confusion and revulsion. “That’s fuckin’ gross.” He receives an eye roll, chuckling beneath his breath.

“Just do it Spinner, remember where her room is?” Tomura points out, cocking a brow as if the purple haired male would catch on. He doesn’t, but Shuichi doesn’t want to admit so, nodding with a look of hesitation. “What exactly are you going to do when she gets up there?”

“Remember? A lesson in manners of course.”

Tomura happily grabs a freely left out six pack of beer, the glass long bottles cool and still dripping perspiration as they heat up in the room filled with liquored up sweaty bodies. The paper handle carefully balancing the weight of each one as he strolls up stairs, finishing his own drink of mixed hard liquors that still haven’t hit his system fully yet. Your room is on the third floor, more of a loft than anything, where you’d had a wall and door built to block out noise and add privacy. You have the most sound proof room in the house, the most secluded room in the house, and the most secure room in the house. Your brother made sure of it, throwing up extra locks as you insisted on getting a house with him near campus. Tomura is happy he found this information out through Shuichi, using his gaming friend to siphon out everything there is to know about you.

Despite your mean attitude, you’re quite the good friend. Well liked and adored on campus, pretty girl with a cute smile when you chose to use it. His own lips crack as they pull up into a grin, easily finding your room and closing the door. A normal bedroom, nothing special, with cute added decorations here and there as well as your books and study supplies left on your desk and bedside table. Tomura leaves the beer on your desk, finishing his drink and throwing the plastic red cup to the floor as he grunts and unzips his pants, freeing his limp chub as he steps up onto your bed.

He wasn’t kidding. He pissed all over your cute stuffed animals, pillows and blankets, releasing his foul pent up urine where you sleep.

“Ah fuck,” he groans, head falling back as he relaxes and fully empties his bladder just as the door slams open and you enter.

“No fuckin’ way— YOU SICK FUCKIN’ ANIMAL! THAT’S DISGUSTING!” Your shriek falls on deaf ears, the party drowning out your screeching perfectly. He doesn’t even turn his body, only his head as he looks down at your seething face with a lopsided grin.

“Aw, decided to join the fun now, Princess?” His scratchy rough voice isn’t slurred in the least, and it doesn’t take a lot to guess he’s mostly sober. Tomura shakes his cock a few times, making sure every drop hit your now soaked bed, before pulling up his boxers alone.

“Lock the door Spin.” He orders casually, and the ever eager Shuichi obeys, eyes wide in shock because Tomura really did it. He’s almost impressed, feeling something in his chest swell to see you so upset. All the times you’d mocked him as a loser who couldn’t afford to pay rent… it was true but that was besides the point.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing shit for brains?!” Shuichi flinched when you reeled on him now, but he held his ground as Tomura hopped to the floor, dropping his pants entirely now and kicking them off. It was comical the look on your face, eyes going wide and a hint of fear tinting your features before you masked it with rage. “You want to die or something? My brother will—,”

“Your brother is getting his cock gobbled like a turkey on Thanksgiving by the bitch I paid to do it. He’s not doing shit else tonight.” Tomura’s smile is vile, white teeth offset by his pale sickly skin as he chuckles, removing his shirt next.

The marks on his body can only be from some sort of self harm, scratch marks everywhere, scabs covering a majority.

“I’ve always liked your nails.” He starts, slowly backing you into Shuichi who seems more nervous than you at this point. Your glare is still in place, defiant pretty eyes sparked with emotion he’s dying to extinguish. “You’re wearing makeup today too.” He notes gleefully, and the way his face lights up almost childishly sends chills down your spine. A blaring red alarm is sounding as you realize his intentions aren’t just to vandalize your room.

“Tomura stop this right now—hck!?” It catches everyone but him off guard when he slaps you across the face, sending you to the floor as you gaze dazedly at your carpet for a moment.

“Shut the fuck up,” he sneers, rolling his eyes as you cough and sputter for a second. It’s the only second he needs to grab a fistful of your hair and haul you up, dragging you to your desk and swiping everything off and onto the floor to smash your face to the table. “You always scream and yell. It’s annoying how you always run your mouth slut.”

“Stop—! I’ll really scream! HELP! SOMEO—mhm!” He doesn’t hesitate to lift your head and slam it as hard as he can onto the table, effectively and violently silencing you.

“Holy shit dude—,” Shuichi halts when Tomura levels him with a glare. His eyes drop to you, even more rocked and dazed as a few tears leak down your cheeks.

“Since you like screaming so much…” he’s scratching as his neck with his free hand, cracking his knuckles after and dropping his hand to the waist band of your leggings. Your ears still ring from the blow, allowing him to easily pull your pants and underwear down to expose your lower half. He only pulls it down halfway, exposing your cunt and bare ass.

“Hey man, maybe we should stop…” Shuichi takes another step forward, eyes nervously looking at your exposed skin and limp figure against your desk.

“Nah, this bitch is getting a lesson taught tonight.” Tomura nods for Shuichi to come closer, his friend awkwardly shuffling closer. “Hold her arms behind her back and her face down.” Tomura helps grab both of your wrists, twisting them behind your back and pressing them down. He ignores your whimper, letting Shuichi hold you down now so he could free both hands.

Shuichi simply watches as Tomura grabs a beer, biting the cap off and spitting it on the floor as he saunters closer. Taking a few swigs, he grins and crouches down behind you, laughing as you flinch away from his hand on your ass.

“P-please stop—hii!” He only answers with a sharp slap to your ass and a giggle, deforming the soft doughy flesh with his hand and nails sinking in. Spreading one cheek wide, Tomura brings the lip of the bottle to the tight rosebud of your back entrance.

“Holy shit—,”

“No! No please!”

He ignores you and Shuichi, pressing forward and breaching your ass with the bottle and delighting in the squeal you make, legs going taunt and straight as the desk and Shuichi’s grip prevents you from going anywhere as he sinks about three inches of the bottle neck inside your ass.

“Bottoms up, bitch.” Tomura laughs, tilting the bottle up and watching the liquid begin to bubble and pop, disappearing inside of you as you groan and writhe for freedom, panic and tears painting your face. Keeping the bottle in place as he forces the beer inside you, Tomura leans up and over to lick the smearing mascara running down your cheek. The salt and chalky taste making his cock swell up into a tent in his boxers.

“Fuck man, is this even okay? I-I don’t wanna go to jail or some shit,”

“You won’t. She won’t say a thing.”

“W-why?”

“Look at her cunt.”

It didn’t matter how much you cried or babbled out pleas, the slick literally dripping from your cunt to the floor in a slimy along your thighs was undeniable.

“Get your phone out and record.” They switch places so Shuichi can do as he’s told, Tomura holding you down much more roughly now.

Shuichi finds it hard to swallow as he digs past his own hard cock to grab his phone out, shakily opening up the camera and hitting film. He doesn’t need to be told to set up facing the scene, using a book shelf on the other end of the room as a stand. He takes his position again holding you, Tomura once more free to do as he pleased.

When the bottle is empty, Tomura pulls it free roughly from your stinging ass with an audible pop.

“Looks like you still got room, hm?”

“Oh god, please, Tomura stop,” your sniffling and little whines don’t soften his heart as he bites another cap off, leaning his own face against the desk to keep the contact as he pressed the new bottle inside your ass. The cool glass contrasted against your warming insides, the feeling of being full hard not to focus on as the alcohol slowly heated you. The liquid goes in faster as he tips it up high, forcing you on your tip toes to avoid tearing your poor hole as he gleefully watches the horror and humiliation on your features.

“Little butt chugging bitch likes having her ass played with huh?” Tomura teases, playfully pressing the now empty bottle in and out of your sore hole, enjoying the tiny wail you release.

“Yeah you like it.”

“I-I don’t—!” He doesn’t care to listen as he fucks you with the glass bottle head, sitting up to watch your hole take it as his cock twitches and soaked his boxers with pre-cum.

“S-shit man I’needa’,” Shuichi feels his mind go blank, pressing his denim clothed cock against your outer thigh and rutting his hips against it like a dog. Tomura snickers watching his friend blow his load in his pants, not seeing the hypocrisy when he does the same not a moment later watching you whimper and take another bottle.

He stops as three, yanking his boxers down and pressing his uncut cock-head right up against your tight hole and releasing before he can even enter.

“Shit,” he moans, pressing Shuichi out of the way to pin your body with his own weight as he rubs against your ass with his release coating your skin. “Holding all that liquid must hurt, huh?” He huffs against your neck, sucking on the skin and breaking the capillaries when he bites down hard enough to draw blood.

Your scream echoes around the room, the floor vibrating as the party downstairs rages on without a clue to your plight.

You groan at Tomura wiggles his full weight on you, your lower belly feeling like it may burst any moment, panic settling into your gut.

“I-I need to p-pee…” Tomura moans, rocking his hardening cock against you while you struggle beneath him.

“Pee then,” he grunts, focusing on rubbing against your sloppy pussy, “So fuckin’ wet. You been wantin’ this?”

“Hey man…” Shuichi had decided to join his friend in stripping to his boxers, no longer pretending to have a moral compass as he stroked his own cock to the sight before him.

“Yeah I gotcha,” Tomura easily stands and brings you up, still restrained with his hands as he drags to the bathroom attached to your room. Shuichi follows, stunned when Tomura just drops you to the floor and presses a foot on your lower abdomen.

“S’too much, please,” you writhe like a bug, Shuichi’s eyes watching as you try and get away only to be pinned harder with Tomura’s foot.

The liquid stored inside you has no where else to go but out.

“Fuckin’ nasty bitch, shit,” Tomura watches in fascination as the liquid spills out, only beer coming out as you sob and lay on the tile. Despite his words he works his cock to the sight. “Cheap enema.” He notes, grabbing your wrist and hauling you to the shower. “Turn it on Spin,” dragging your poor figure into the shower and stripping you down naked. The water is freezing at first, your flinches and pathetic pleas as Tomura dumps soap over your head and body ignored. He uses the detachable shower head to wash you like an animal, roughly soaping you up and spraying you off, careless about nearly drowning you as he washes your face a little.

He does a poor job, but you’re somewhat clean, makeup still smeared lightly on your face as your dragged out dripping wet back into your bedroom.

He doesn’t hesitate to throw you on your bed.

“Fuckin’ gross man…” Shuichi frowns, but he doesn’t hesitate to grab you despite the scent of urine turning him off slightly.

You fight now though, wildly flailing limbs struggling as you scream and wail for anyone to hear you. No one does, as Tomura shamelessly climbs into the bed with you, boxers gone and completely naked as he helps Shuichi press you to your hands and knees. Tomura positioned behind you and Shuichi by your face.

“Please… I-I’m sorry…” they pause, your voice so tiny they barely heard it.

“Speak up, whore, we can’t hear you.” Tomura yanks your face up by your hair, your neck twisting painfully back as you sob.

“I’m sorry!”

“For what?!” Tomura sneers, using your head like a joystick and rattling you around.

“F-for saying mean things, a-and throwing food o-on you…”

“That all?” He asks, cock pressed up against the entrance to your cunt threateningly.

“P-please Tomura… Shuichi…”

“Since you’re begging,” Tomura laughs, surging his hips forward and shoving his cock into your warm tight cunt. You release a silent scream this time, choking on air as his cock fills you this time, each thick inch drilling into you as he starts wildly bucking into you with little regard to your pleasure.

“Fuck her face Spin,” Tomura grunts, drawing blood on your ass as his nails bite in, fucking hard up into your pussy, soft mushroom tip unsheathing and kissing up against your cervix.

“R-right…” Shuichi feels guilty seeing your tear streaked face, wet hair clinging to your skin and watery eyes looking at him for mercy. It doesn’t stop him from cupping your jaw and lifting your head up to press his cock against your lips.

Tomura lands a sharp hit to your rear, moaning as you tighten at the bolt of pain it caused. “Better suck him good, or I’ll let him have your ass.” That seems to motivate you, soft lips parting open and accepting Shuichi’s much thicker cock into your mouth. Shuichi unexpectedly had the biggest cock you’d ever seen, the reddish tip and veiny shaft intimidating as you do your best to lick and suck despite the sweaty sour odor clinging to him.

“That’s not how sluts suck cock, is it?” Tomura growls, forcing your head forward on the hesitant Shuichi’s cock and gagging you while the purple haired man moans. “O-oh fuck!” He grips your face from the front while Tomura fucks you rough and hard from behind. “That’s it Princess! Nice and deep!” Tomura cackles, focusing back on railing you senseless while Shuichi finally snaps and face fucks you properly.

“So good—fuck, your mouth is so warm,” he’s nearly in tears himself as he feels his tip slip into your tight throat, eyes rolling back as he works his hips now, watching drool and tears mix around your mouth and drop down onto his balls as they smack your chin. “A-almost done, almost done,” he moans, loving how your oxygen deprived mind slackens your jaw more so he can slip even deeper, your tongue licking at a vein under his shaft every thrust. “So fuckin’ good wh-when you shut up, heh,” he’s delirious on pleasure, loving the submissive look in your eyes as they gaze up pleadingly at him. “Cute when this mouth is used for something productive.” Shuichi laughs breathlessly, balls drawing up tight as he finally spills down your throat. “Fuck! Swallow! Swallow it all—!” His face and body scrunch up, nearly doubling over as he presses your nose against his pelvis and comes down your throat.

You black out. Limp figure gurgling on hot spunk spilling down your face as you drop to the soaked bed while Tomura supports your lower half up to keep fucking you. Your eyes barely open as the room spins, cunt clamping down like a vice on Tomura’s cock when he uses one hand to half heartedly rub at your swollen clit.

“Shit, gonna bite my dick off,” he moans despite the almost uncomfortable tightness, working your pussy up further as you spasm and soak his lower half, eyes rolling back. “Ah fuck, that’s it bitch, make a mess!” Tomura nearly whines, hips becoming jerky as you milk him for all he’s worth, his cum finally spilling inside you now.

“Bet you ain’t on birth control huh? Gonna knock you up whore.” He grunts, trying to fuck his spend back into you with his softening cock, overstimulating himself as he moans and whimpers against your back.

When he pulls out, a string of sticky fluids connect his cock to your pussy even when he’s completely out of you. He watches with a grin as his white cum dribbles out of your used hole. “Look at that. You do have some potential after all. At least for a cock sleeve that is.” He snickers, leaving you in a heap on your bed as he and Shuichi start to dress, grabbing the phone and coming back to film the aftermath.

“Say a word and I’ll send this to everyone. Do you hear me?” He doubts you really do, the fucked out look on your face making you appear stupid as you numbly nod a little. “Now say ‘Thank you Tomura and Spinner, for using my slutty holes’.” Tears leak freely as you stutter, “Th-thank you T-Tomura a-and Spinner…for u-using my s-slutty holes…”

“Good girl. I knew we could teach you some manners.” He grins, eyes crinkling around the edges darkly as he stares at your used figure still trembling and dripping cum.

“Let’s go, I’m in the mood to game a lil,” Tomura comments, wiping his cock with your panties and stuffing them in his back pocket as he buttons and zips up his fly. Shuichi follows, nodding as he dresses and fixes his clothes, eyes not leaving you though.

“Don’t worry. We can use her again later. I still got a few more brews.” Tomura chuckles, lifting the half empty pack up.

You wake in a panic, blood pumping fast and heart pounding. Your room is as you left it, eyes scanning your clean and un-pissed in bed and sheets. Your body is clean besides a sheen of sweat coating you, hands trembling as you dip a finger into your panties to find yourself soaking wet.

Did you have a wet dream about those two losers?

As if…

You found sleep was hard to come by as you kept imagining.

Dividers/@cafekitsune

#tw: dark content #tw:noncon #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #shuichi iguchi #spinner #bnha spinner #bnha tomura #shigaraki x reader smut #shigaraki tomura smut #shuichi iguchi smut #spinner smut #tomura x reader x spinner #bnha smut #mha smut #tomura x reader smut

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soobnny · 2 years ago

Text

meet odd — han jisung.

trope. acquaintances to lovers. college au. u live in the same apartment floor. fluff.

synopsis. you get to know han jisung under strange circumstances or alternatively “we live in the same floor and the room between ours always has really loud sex so now we’re both in the main lounge at 2am… do you want this last bit of ice cream?”

word count. 2.3k

warnings. mentions of sex (from the apartment neighbor), cursing

note. hello hello! another skz fic hihi send an ask if u wanna be added to my skz perma taglist :’) i hope u enjoy this silly little story

part 2

There are a lot of things you love about your apartment – the free water and electricity bill, how it's walking distance from your school, the really cold study lounge, and the cat that frequents your small balcony.

For its price, you really couldn’t ask for anything more. The cheap monthly pay goes perfectly with your very strict budget as a broke college student. So, truly, you couldn’t ask for anything more.

Actually, maybe you could.

Within all the great qualities your apartment has to offer, there lies one really, really big setback. The apartment right next to yours and your painfully thin walls. The amount of times it has fucked you up in the head after a long day of classes and exams are immeasurable.

Cue the soft banging of your head against your wall and the pillow around your ears to block out the noises, serene smiling as you greet her the next day as you walk out of the apartment together to head to your early morning classes.

The months before she moved, your apartment had been the safest haven to retreat to – where you could stare at the ceiling after a long day, finish your school work quietly before getting comfortable in your bed, and rewatch a show you’d seen a million times before sleeping to prepare for another battle in your university.

Now, your armor is faltering, and the number of hours of your sleep is decreasing gradually fast. Each night was just repetitive banging of her bed’s headboard against the wall between your apartment rooms and obnoxious moans.

You honestly wouldn’t have minded if they weren’t so fucking loud about it.

And if they didn’t go at it until the crack of dawn.

You hate to be told to be grateful. There’s a clear border for when you’re valid to feel frustration over your situation – when you’re allowed to be ungrateful for the downcast of your neighbor in your life.

Because of your predicament, you’ve found multiple alternatives to aid you in overcoming this temporary challenge. There’s a pair of noise canceling headphones on your nightstand that you begrudgingly used your savings up on to purchase, and you’d been a constant visitor in Seungmin’s dorms.

However, you can only go for so long before you start displaying lower back pains from Seungmin’s old and fucked up couch. His roommate, Jeongin, doesn’t help much either when he enjoys talking your ears off as he does anything but study for his classes.

This is what your new living situation is like. You live off Seungmin’s dying couch and the random stabs of pain on your lower back, your apartment neighbor having the time of her life, and the newly formed bags under your eyes.

You’ve definitely thought about marching up to her room and talking to her about it. But what the hell were you supposed to say? It isn’t exactly the easiest thing to confront people about their sex life.

That’s how you find yourself retreating from your apartment at the ass crack of dawn to sit at the main lounge for a bit, defeated with slumped shoulders and heavy eyes.

They can’t go on for much longer, right? You just had to wait at the main lounge for a few more minutes and you could go back to the comfort of your own bed.

“Good morning.” There’s laughter in the voice of the only other person lounging on the couches of your lobby, legs crossed with a tub of ice cream in his hands.

You recognize him as Han Jisung – the other apartment situated right next to your sex addict neighbor. You’ve only really seen him a few times, in the elevator, leaving for the gym as you come back from school, and you’ve only really shared a brief exchange of hi’s and hello’s. Seeing him in a hoodie and sweatpants with glasses on has your stomach doing a summersault.

He is so painfully handsome, jumping straight out of his hot-boy-with-humor trope.

As soon as your eyes meet, the two of you laugh so loudly and so hysterically. You just know. You know why he’s here at 2am with his tub of ice cream. He’s at the main lounge for the exact same reason you are, and something about that feels so humanizing and funny to you.

There’s a shared understanding in your crinkled eyes and cracked smiles and heavy panting from laughing too hard at your predicament. You don’t care that you look crazy with your messy hair from tossing and turning from your bed all night. Nothing looks or sounds crazy to Jisung.

He’s scooting over the couch to leave the space next to him for you, his hand dropping down to pat the spot so you can sit right next to him.

You’re quick to walk over and sit next to him, and he gives you a smile, fingers drumming over the arm of the sofa with his thigh pressed up against yours slightly that makes your heart beat erratically.

“Want some?” His round boba eyes look at yours as he nudges the tub of ice cream in front of you, twisting his body so he can face you better.

The scent of his cologne is holding you ransom.

None of this feels real, but you swear you can’t be making this shit up. You can’t be making up pretty Han Jisung with his slightly long and a bit disheveled hair and his puffed out cheeks as he chews on his ice cream.

Staring down at his offer, you go over your choices. Although, when someone offers up free ice cream at 2am when you need comfort the most, you don’t think there’s really a need to go over your invisible choices. There’s an obvious answer – the one you take as you grab a spoonful of his ice cream and stuff it in your mouth.

You close your eyes at the cold sensation, a smile creeping up on your face instantly. You’re the happiest you’ve been today already, in this moment, eating ice cream with the boy with worn out converse and the sweetest laugh.

“How have you been coping?”

Jisung knows exactly what you’re talking about, and he finds it hilarious how you’re labeling his response to your shared neighbor as ‘coping mechanisms’. His lips twitch up as he rolls his head back to rest on the cushions.

“You can only go so far with noise canceling headphones.”

“I know right!” Your face lights up as you take another spoonful of ice cream, nodding your head in agreement.

“I tried staying with a friend for a bit, but I’m tired of living off protein shakes and cuddling on the same bed. A double sized bed cannot fit me and Changbin.” He shivers as he recounts his experiences with the boy.

“Changbin as in Seo Changbin from the Music and Performing Arts department?”

“Yeah! Binnie! How do you know him?” Your question makes the smile on his face brighter.

“My friend Seungmin knows him. I’m definitely telling him you shaded his love for protein shakes and that you hate cuddling with him.”

“I don’t hate cuddling with him!” Jisung defends himself, shaking his head aggressively. “I would cuddle with him on a bigger bed.”

“Dude…” He laughs.

Something about how he has experienced the same struggles you have is a little haunting, but also comforting. To know you’re not the only one who has gone through the mockery of begging to stay at a friend’s or purchasing those stupid overpriced headphones.

“Wanna… uh, nevermind.”

“Hm?”

Jisung isn’t the most straightforward person in the world, but something about the way you’re looking at him with wide, curious eyes is intoxicating, and it gives him enough courage to continue talking.

Clearing his throat, he repeats. “Wanna go out for a bit?”

Han Jisung’s voice is very deep and very convincing at 2 in the morning.

“They’re not gonna be done soon?”

He studies your hopeful features and pats your shoulder in comfort. “I don’t wanna ruin your small ray of hope, but they were going at it until 4am last night.”

Grimacing, you drop your head in defeat. “If that’s the case, then let’s go.”

That’s how you find yourselves at a creepy, run-down convenience store near your apartment, purchasing more ice cream and looking through the stalls for anything to buy.

“Hey, Hannie!” You call out to him at the back of the store, and he comes padding over with a splash of giddiness in his heart at the nickname you give him.

His friends have called him that a million times, but it sounds different coming from you. It sounds so natural, like you were always meant to say it.

He bites down his lip to prevent himself from smiling further. His heart flutters at the possibility of you being a constant in his life. Hannie, Hannie, Hannie. It slips out of your mouth so easily that he wonders if the universe purposely gave you two that neighbor for this specific moment.

For him to meet you at the main lounge and invite you to the convenience store (and into his life in the process).

Is this what those stupid male leads feel like in those romantic comedies he binge watched with Changbin?

Jisung used to think it was absolutely ridiculous to meet someone and form an entire life with them in their head, but he finds himself doing the same in all his hypocrisy.

When he arrives to where you’re standing, he watches in amusement as you spend the next few minutes trying your hand at a run-down claw machine – desperately aiming for the pompompurin keychain.

First, you play with eyes of determination and careful movements, and then you’re smashing at the buttons in frustration.

Pretty, he thinks.

He can’t help but swoon at the sight of you with an oversized hoodie, smashing at the claw machine with your eyes half open and your lips pouted in defeat.

“Want me to try?”

You’re aware that claw machines were always faulty and deceiving, but you allow Jisung to try and win the keychain that’s probably cheaper to buy than the amount of money you’ve inserted in the coin slot to play the game.

With the plastic bag of ice cream and candy on his left hand, he uses his right hand to control the stick so he can angle the claw the way he needs it. Leaning forward, he focuses on getting the keychain you’ve been aiming for, pressing the red button after a few seconds of pushing it around.

His lips twitch in a smile when he sees the claw land exactly where he needs it to be, and he sneaks a glance at your anticipating face – heart speeding up at the sight.

“Oh my god. And you got the one I wanted?!” Jisung crouches down to grab the keychain from the prize slot before handing it to you and it immediately finds its home on the zipper of your wallet.

He has a proud smile on his face when he sees you hugging your wallet to your chest with a newfound happiness brightening your features. Even the convenience store lady is impressed at how he was able to get anything from that claw machine at all.

Maybe that’s what the graveyard shift does to you. It tires you out so much that you find someone winning at the claw machine game fun.

With an ice popsicle on your hand and your wallet with your new favorite keychain on the other, you and Jisung start to make your way back to your apartment. It was getting late, and they have to be done by now.

There’s a few moments of peace before you hear Jisung audibly trying to suppress his laughter. He’s trying not to giggle, and you know exactly why.

Your jaw drops, hitting him on his upper arm before sulking.

He doesn’t even need to tell you for you to know he’s laughing at your ice cream eating skills (your popsicle’s already melting and you’ve desperately been trying to finish it before it dissipates for the past few seconds).

There’s a taunting smile on his face as he apologizes. “I’m sorryyy.” He drawls the last syllable, bumping his shoulder with yours.

“You just look so cute.”

Something ricochets in your stomach the moment he says that, and you really hope he can’t hear your heart racing over his obnoxious giggling.

Jisung doesn’t know where he got the confidence to say that aloud. He’s also hoping the streetlights are dim enough for you not to notice the redness on the tip of his ears.

When you arrive, you immediately recognize the boy hurriedly rushing out of the apartment as your neighbor’s boyfriend. And when he speeds past the pair of you with a sheepish and shy smile on his face, you immediately make eye contact with Jisung.

Another fit of laughter breaks out.

And as you laugh and giggle over the poor boy’s obvious embarrassment, your eyes drift over towards Jisung, your newfound friend and how his eyes glint with genuine happiness and how he feels so comfortable to be with.

Similarly, Jisung finds himself mirroring your gaze. Somehow, he feels that starting today, things are definitely going to change between the two of you and the possible shift of your interactions into something more constant makes his heart flutter.

Before today, Han Jisung was just another boy who lived on the same floor as you, who you shared a few small pleasantries with. However, as the pair of you walk back to your rooms with your plastic bags of popsicle and candy wrappers and the hint of laughter still bubbling in your throats, you can tell that this moment right now with him feels like the beginning of something wonderful.

You hate to be told to be grateful, but in the stupidity of your own reflection, you are. For what – you’re starting to think it has something to do with the boy next to you.

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