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nathaslosthershit · 2 days ago

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The Main Event (Multiple Pairings) Part 1

Can be read as a standalone but also (Part 8 in the Blind Items AU A/N: Its my nineteenth birthday 🥳 I wanted to write about adults being happy in different stages of their life because I am so scared of growing up and the thought of not being a teenager next year makes me nauseous. Enjoy! Each pairing has a Blind Items backstory which is linked at the start of their section (You don't have to read the backstory, though) Multiple (separate) Pairings: Logan Sargeant x Leclerc!reader, Oscar Piastri x reader, Charles Leclerc x reader, Lando Norris x reader, Lance Stroll x reader, Lewis Hamilton x reader, Alexander Albon x reader in the next part Summary: A wedding between Logan Sargeant and the youngest Leclerc child means a very interesting guest list, in which all previous victims of the F1 Blind Items account are included.

Oscar Piastri

“Dude, how come you are more nervous about my own wedding than I am?” Logan asked.

Oscar rolled his eyes and scoffed, pretending what the American was saying was ridiculous, as he nervously picked at his nails, trying to hide his trembling hands. Logan just laughed at his friend's failed attempt at nonchalance.

“It’s just- I’m nervous about the media inserting themselves in the events today. I mean I don’t want to have my toddlers in the spotlight any more than they already are.” Oscar explained. After being forced to reveal his kids to the world before he nor his fiancée were ready, and after just a few interviews and racing events the kids attended, Oscar didn’t want to give the media much more for the time being.

“Wow, way to make my wedding about you.” Logan teased, trying to relieve the utter look of anxiety and despair on Oscar’s face. But the Mclaren driver just shot him an unamused glare. “Look, I have told you time and time again if you don’t want them as flower girls- or kids, I’d gladly make my brother frolick down the aisle throwing petals. As much as I love my honorary niece and nephew, nothing would make me happier than making Dalton do that.”

This finally got a laugh out of Oscar. “They have been practicing too much to do that, we would be in for a shit storm if you tried to take away their time to shine.” It had been a big thing in the Piastri household for the past few months. Every second of every day, Frances and Hudson had been asking their parents questions about what weddings were like, how they should walk down the aisle, and if they had to see uncle Logan kiss his wife (they were not amused by the idea of having to see that). Not to mention the hundreds of times they forced their parents to watch how they would walk down the aisle, asking what they thought and ignoring any criticisms given to them (they saw no reason as to why they shouldn’t be allowed to dance and sing while throwing petals).

“Then calm down. If all goes well there won’t be any media there, I mean I think we have done a pretty good job at making sure no one outside the event knows about it. Plus, no offense but there are plenty of people with far more interesting stories and scandals than your family. The tabloids are bored with y’all now that there isn’t anything new to expose.” Maybe a harsh way of putting it, but it was true, there were plenty of Formula 1 couples who had been exposed by the media for various reasons in attendance today.

“Right. Got to say, Logan, the guestlist is impressive. I mean could you imagine telling your 13 year old self that the Lewis Hamilton would be attending your wedding?” Oscar asked. Even after a few years racing against the guy, the shock from being around him never wore off. He just had that ‘greatest of all time’ energy.

“I can’t even take the credit for much of it though. It's the bride who brought all the biggest names.” Logan rolled his eyes playfully. It was true though, his wife-to-be had made friends with all the biggest names in the world and they weren’t half assed friendships either. She could make even the tiniest of acquaintances feel like longtime companionships. She could make everyone feel so unbelievably loved and cherished in such a short time.

God he couldn’t wait to marry her.

Oscar laughed at the lovesick grin on his friend’s face. Usually he’d tease him, but he decided maybe he should just cut the man some slack on his wedding day.

But the urge was too great he couldn’t let Logan go unteased, before he could do so though-

“Dad! Dad! Dad! Look, me and Fran match!” Oscar’s son, Hudson, ran into the room, his sister following after him.

The two seemed to light up in their soft blue outfits.

“Don’t you two look awesome!” Logan said from behind the twins, making them turn around. “You guys look better than me on my own wedding day.”

The toddlers shouted in excitement as they ran to their favorite honorary uncle (much to Lando’s chagrin. He fought hard for that title).

“You two ready to be the stars of the show? Throwing petals ain’t easy work.” He said as he crouched down to hug the toddlers.

Oscar rolled his eyes. Leave it to Logan to make his own children completely uninterested in him. Fortunately, someone who was actually interested in him entered the room after them. His wonderful fiancée.

“You look gorgeous, honey.” Oscar said awestruck.

“You saw me in this earlier.” She deadpanned.

“Let a man compliment his fincée, will you?” Holding her close to him, kissing her deeply. It was only when the two weren’t cut off with toddler “ewws” and “stop grossss” that they looked back at their children, currently in a… dance competition with the groom. “Glad to see how much they care for us.” Oscar sighed, feeling childish jealousy.

“Let him entertain them, he’ll get some more practice for when he has his own kids.”

“He’s too young, honey. He is about to get married, he doesn't need to think about that right now.” Oscar scoffed, feeling offended for his children that Logan would ever dethrone his honorary niece and nephew from being his favorite kids.

“Says the man who had two kids by 18 and has been engaged twice, but not married, by 23.” Honey amused.

He blushed at the reminder that their relationship had been done a bit… backwards.

“They already have an officiant and audience, maybe we can just jump in with the bride and groom, two birds with one stone.”

“Nope! I already have two Piastri’s taking the spotlight today, I don’t need more.” Logan said while both twins climbed all over him.

Charles Leclerc (And the Leclerc Co.)

Normally, hard launching your child was not something a bride would encourage on her wedding day, but as the youngest Leclerc child, Charles’ sister loved the drama. Hence why her nephew was making his debut to the public as the ring bearer. Only a month old, the media hadn’t gotten to meet the cutie as he was born right at the start of winter break. It brought tears to his eyes, how insistent his baby sister was on having her nephew involved in her wedding. It was already an emotional day for Charles, who felt like he was losing his first baby as he walked her down the aisle and sent her off into her future, but he truly couldn’t be happier.

And doing it with his son by his side just made it all the more memorable.

“Honey?” Charles’ girlfriend called as she popped her head into the room he was getting ready in. In her arms was their newborn who, while still so small, broke everyone’s heart at how big he was getting. “Oh, my love, are you seriously crying again?” she asked as he tried to inconspicuously wipe away his tears.

Being reminded that he had just been crying only made him start to cry more.

“Charlie, you are more emotional than I was while pregnant. What is going on with you today?”

“It is stupid, I’m sorry. It's just- it was yesterday my sister was in my arms, having just been born, and now she is getting married and the American is taking her away.”

If there was one thing the Leclerc brothers loved to do, it was make fun of their soon to be brother-in-law. They truly did love Logan, but it was so easy to pick on him and he was far too polite to try anything with them yet. If you asked them, they would say they are just treating him like the brother he is, but they also just really love how much it pissed their sister off, who will certainly be defending him.

“Oh, sweetheart, she isn’t going anywhere. They are still going to live in Monaco, and you race with her husband almost every weekend. If anything now that they are married you will see more of her.”

It was true. Even if the Leclerc brothers had a strict ban on dating drivers, they had to admit that their sister had found a good partner in Logan. A man who was driving alongside Charles, had been on the same team as Arthur in the past, and knew just how important and difficult the sport was on family.

Giving her boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek after wiping his tears from his face, Charles’ partner went on to try and fix the mess of hair that her lover was currently fighting.

The Leclerc’s had terrible bed heads, something that unfortunately had already been seen in the first grandson, even at just a month old his hair was thick and unmanageable.

Fortunately, Charles had calmed down enough that he was no longer a complete mess when his brothers entered the room. If Charles knew anything about his brother’s (and his sister) it was that such tears would have led to him being teased for the rest of his life about it.

“Have you seen her?” Charles asked Enzo, hoping for any indication on how their sister was doing, having been too busy setting up for the wedding and taking care of his son to check on the bride thoroughly.

Arthur rolled his eyes, “When we tried to see her, Maman wouldn’t let us in.”

“Why? Is something wrong?” Charles’ girlfriend asked, the same level of concern in her voice displayed accross Charles’ face.

“No, no, the bride said she wanted to have a little moment with the four of us before the wedding, so she didn’t want us to see anything before.” Enzo explained. He had understood her sentiment, Arthur… not so much.

Letting out a breath at the confirmation that nothing was wrong, Charles sat quietly while he got his hair tamed, his brothers playing with their nephew in the back.

It was a sight that almost brought tears to Pascale’s eyes, but she had already cried so much and she knew she needed to save the rest of her tears for the ceremony. Her three boys, all in different stages of their lives, all dressed up and ready to support their baby sister on her big day.

There was a sense of love and excitement in the air, reminding her of when her daughter had first been born, her older brothers hardly able to sit still while they waited in anticipation. Though everyone was calm now, having gotten most of their childish impatience out of their system, those feelings hadn’t changed.

“Someone wants to see you all.” She spoke up, getting the attention of her boys. Charles’ girlfriend pressed a kiss to his cheek and took their son from his uncles, wanting to give the Leclerc siblings a moment alone.

“My goodness, you look stunning.” She said to the bride as she walked through the doorway before leaving. This made all the brother’s perk up, losing the rest of their patience as they waited to see their baby sister.

The second she stepped into the room and tears welled up in everyone’s eyes, the Leclercs knew it was going to be a long day full of bittersweet melancholy, but also one so full of love.

Lando Norris

“Have I told you how wonderful you looked?” Lando asked, grabbing his girlfriend’s hand as he ran his thumb over her knuckles.

She rolled her eyes, “Only a thousand times since we got in the car. Not to mention when I was getting ready, when I was trying on dresses, or when I was simply speaking to you about what I was thinking of wearing.” She teased.

He knew it was overkill, but he also knew how stressed she was. Not about the wedding, she was excited to attend and celebrate, but of the fact she knew she’d finally be identified as Lando Norris’s “unremarkable” girlfriend the tabloids have talked about for a while.

The media knew he was dating not a model, or heir to a fortune, or an influencer, but a “simple” teacher, one who had a private instagram account with hardly 100 people on it. They had seen what pictures Lando posted of her, maybe a few posted by friends, but they never showed her face. They didn’t even know her name.

Even though their words were harsh, even though it hurt they thought she was undeserving of him when they didn’t know her, the anonymity at least came with the sentiment that all their judgements came from one simple fact, that she was a teacher. Now, they would have more to criticize, more to know, and she hated the thought.

Despite the public not knowing about her though, she had still been able to become good friends with many of Lando’s. Had been present for many arguments between Logan and Lando as they defended their individual titles of being “the best honorary uncle” to the Piastri twins and had been there to help watch the toddlers so Oscar’s fiancée could get a bit of a break during races.

She loved so many of the people there, and she knew they all had her back. Because of this, she felt more ready to face the music. She shouldn’t be ashamed of who she was, she loved everything about her life, and she wouldn’t be made to feel bad for loving Lando.

In the end, it was what the two of them thought and felt about their relationship that mattered.

Lando smiled as he watched her take a deep breath, ready for what was to come. He’d move heaven and the earth for her, and he for sure wasn’t going to let some idiots online ruin something so good.

Lance Stroll

“You must have the worst heartburn, huh?” A mutual friend of a friend, Marie, asked.

“Oh, well actually-”

“Ugh it was so bad! And the indigestion, that really sucked. Oh! Reminds me of this one awful stretch of time when I was pregnant. I was actually also at a wedding…” Marie started on a tangent about some pregnancy horror story. One the currently pregnant woman she was talking to, didn’t appreciate hearing at the moment.

Lance looked over at his wife, stuck in conversation looking pained. Fearing that something was wrong with her or the baby, he quickly made his way over with an excuse to whisk her away.

“Are you alright?” He asked once out of earshot of Marie.

His wife opened her mouth to answer, but was unable to when a choked sound made its way out first. The sound attracted the eyes of several wedding guests, who upon seeing that she was pregnant, turned back to their conversations, finding that as the excuse for such an outburst. While she was embarrassed when all eyes turned to her, the lack of interest in her wellbeing after seeing her belly just made her start to sob even more.

Knowing his wife was in distress and clearly the crowded room was adding to the discomfort, Lance led her to an unoccupied hallway.

“Come on, hun. How can I make this better?” Sweetness, with a bit of helplessness, in his tone.

“You-you can’t!” She cried. God, how was she ever supposed to explain what the hell was happening with her. Especially when each second, she felt differently.

Maybe that was the problem.

“I’m- I am so tired of being the pregnant lady.” She managed to get out.

Lance frowned at the confession. “I know, love. I can’t imagine what it's like to be pregnant, and I wish I could help. I know it sucks, but you can get through-”

“Stop! That's the problem. Every single issue I have is written off as something that just happens with pregnancy. Like they are just side effects that can’t be helped! Like I just need to deal with them alone because “I signed up for this”. Maybe it sounds stupid or childish but I don’t give a fuck anymore, Lance. I don’t want to be treated like some pregnant lady, I don't want to be treated as if every single emotion I have is just because of hormones or because all women are just expected to suffer through this! Marie just came up to me and started talking about her own horror stories from when she was pregnant! I don’t want to hear that, not when she isn’t giving actual advice, just trying to laugh about things I, as the currently pregnant person, don’t find funny! I don’t want to talk about how I am so hungry and have people laugh and say ‘oh that's just what happens’. I want to get food! I want to be able to be upset without people losing interest the second they realize it's just the pregnant lady crying. I want the things I'm going through to be taken seriously, Lance.”

A beat of silence as he took in her words.

As the silence stretched on though, she found herself with an apology forming on the tip of her tongue, feeling bad for yelling at her husband during her tangent when, even if he had contributed to the problem, he didn’t really do anything wrong.

Just as she opened her mouth though, he got on his phone.

She started to not feel as bad as she watched her husband seemingly ignore all she said.

“Are you-” She began, just to be cut off by him putting his phone in his pocket, and kissing her deeply.

Most of her anger seemed to disappear at that moment. He hadn’t kissed her like that in what felt like forever. Since she had told him she had been pregnant, he had been unsure of how to go about doing… well, anything.

After a few passionately blissful seconds, he pulled away, still holding her face between his hands and stroking her cheek with his thumbs. “I ordered a car to take us to a crappy fast food place.”

She stammered, “What do- why?”

“You said you are hungry, the ceremony hasn’t even begun yet, we are going to be here for a while before we can eat and while I’m sure the bride and groom have an amazing set up, there isn’t a point in making you suffer any longer when we can fix it.” he explained.

She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to agree, but she also wanted to support their friends and knew she probably shouldn’t skip out on their wedding day. But she really needed something to eat and her feet were killing her already-

“No, Lance, we shouldn’t it- it would be rude.” She answered.

Lance laughed at her attempt at trying to convince both herself and him. “As much as I’d love to stay, I’d much rather watch you eat a disgusting amount of fast food in an impressively short amount of time all the while dressed to the nines. Plus, we both know the bride and groom would be understanding.” He said as he grabbed her purse and opened the door for her. “After you, my love.”

She sighed, realizing he was right.

“Oh how gentlemanly of you,” she teased in a posh accent. “Is it often you whisk away distressed damsels to fast food restaurants?”

“Only the gorgeous ones. I did earn my nickname of Sir Lancelot from my wife for a reason.” He teased back.

“It seems you have.” She replied with a kiss on the cheek.

Lewis Hamilton

“Oh, sweet pea. You look stunning!” Lewis said as he facetimed his daughter, currently at home with her mom.

The young girl giggled at the compliment, asking her dad about the wedding. She had been more than curious about weddings lately after hearing that her dad was attending one.

“-and the bride wears a beautiful white dress”

“Like the one mommy is wearing?” she asked her dad, pointing to the oversized t-shirt her mom was wearing with paint stains on it from when she and her partner had painted the nursery for the 1 year old currently asleep in said room. Lewis laughed at the image.

“While I am sure your mommy could wear that and still be the most beautiful girl in the world. A wedding dress is a little… different.” Lewis answered.

“Mommy! Can I see your wedding dress?” her daughter asked.

Both parents froze at the question, realizing they might have not told their child a pretty important detail about her parents.

“Oh- honey. Daddy and I never got married.” She answered. Her daughter looked back at the phone, at her dad, confused.

“Dad? Why didn’t you marry mommy? Don’t you love her?”

Harsh. Lewis didn’t know how to answer such a question, but he eventually found the words.

“Sweetheart, you know I love your mom very much. You are all my most favorite girls. Some people just don’t get married, they don’t feel the need to.” He answered. It wasn’t that the two of them didn’t want to, they had planned on it. But their first daughter had been unplanned, then their second had been too, and eventually, as they became everything to one another, they didn’t have a wedding so high on their priority list, knowing the proof of their love was evident in the two girls they were raising, in the life they had built together despite many unwanted opinions trying to ruin it.

“Let me talk to your dad sweetie. Can you grab my water from the living room?” His girlfriend asked as her daughter handed her the phone and jumped off the bed.

After the sound of the young girl’s footsteps softened in the background, she spoke up, “Sorry about that, Lew, she saw a photo of some celebrity wedding today and her interest in the topic was reignited.”

“She is a curious kid, I get it. She is a smart one too, she gets it from her mother.” He watched his girlfriend blush at the compliment. Even while tired having to take care of the two young children alone, she seemed to be glowing. “We never did get around to marriage, did we?”

She sighed, “I guess we got too busy. I hadn’t even thought about it in a while- not that I don’t want to marry you still!”

He laughed at her realization she may have chosen her words wrong, “No, I haven’t either. Two kids is a lot, and we both know how we feel about each other. But I will always be ready to marry you, the second you say so.”

“Well, I’ll always be ready to marry you, after you properly propose. You already got two kids out of me, I at least deserve a big flashy ring.” She teased.

“And you shall have it my love.” Lewis suddenly heard his daughter coming back. He spoke up when he saw her pop back up on screen, “What do you think, love bug? Should mommy and daddy get married? I think your mom would look beautiful in a big white dress, right?”

The little girl perked up at that, “Yes! But, will it be hard for mommy to wear a dress with the baby in her tummy?” She asked, pointing to her mom’s stomach.

Both adults froze.

Slowly, Lewis’ girlfriend let out a deep sigh. “Baby, I told you not to talk about that with daddy till we could tell him…”

If his eyes opened any wider, they would have popped out of his head. “She’s serious? We are having another baby?”

“Surprise? I wanted to keep it a secret till you came back and make it all special but she was so sad when you left I told her to cheer her up.”

Lewis’ heart softened at the thought, “Well, I guess a wedding might have to be postponed for the time being” He amused.

They’d get around to it, maybe after this next kid, maybe after the next few.

Part 2 coming soon featuring: Alex Albon x reader, Logan Sargeant x Leclerc!Reader (Its 1 am and I have work in a few hours)

#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x you #alex albon x reader #lance stroll x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine

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theereina · 11 hours ago

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Big Mama Pt. 9

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +2.8K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), P in V, oral (male receiving), Dom!Terry, Jealous!Terry, spanking *if you squint*, slight exhibitionism, rough sex

A/N: I don't know how many parts there will be. However, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Big Mama Pt. 1 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 2 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 3 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 4 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 5 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 6 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 7 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 8 => 🦋

*Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

After exiting the shower, I wanted nothing more than to nap. I wrapped the towel around my body and walked into the bedroom.

I walked to the side of the dresser where my clothes were. Terry had given me half of the eight drawers once he realized I was coming over more often. I stood before the mirrored dresser, turning around and checking myself out. My hair was poofy and falling out of my puff. I sighed deeply, knowing my arms would be suffering later. It was time for a protective style, whether box braids, micro twists, or a sew-in. I was definitely not about to be fighting with my hair any longer than I needed to.

I grabbed my vanilla cashmere body lotion from the dresser. It was not only my favorite scent but my signature. I was a vanilla girl through and through. I slowly walked over to the window and noticed the rain had slowed. The sun was slowly making an appearance through the thinning clouds. Faint streams of light beamed through the slits in the blinds.

The window was tall and almost floor-to-ceiling. It was the perfect height for me to use the window sill as a ledge. Raising the blinds, I propped my left leg on the small ledge. My foot rested in a small opening between the two sheer curtain panels. The soft creamy white color made them easier to see out of.

I pumped the lotion into the palm of my hands and began working it into my legs, alternating between the two. I took my time with every inch of my body, paying close attention to my tension areas. My thighs unintentionally became an area of extra attention. I slid the towel back on my legs a little more to work my way up my thighs. Pressing and kneading my inner thighs, I let out a small moan. I needed this. The muscles in my thighs were stiff and tense from all the running around I had been doing.

I made a mental note to ask Terry for a massage. I didn't care if it led to me getting put through a mattress. Fuck it! Terry's hands were like feathers guided by God. They knew exactly how to move and how much pressure to apply, and Lord, did they know exactly where to be to get me going.

Unknowingly, I had fallen into my own thoughts. Daydreaming about Terry's hands all over me made me put mine between my legs. I was absentmindedly rubbing my hand over the lips of my pussy. I dragged my fingers back and forth through my folds, letting my fingers stroke the underside of my clit. I slid my fingers back again, dipping into my hole. I moaned into the air as my breathing became harsh and ragged.

I quickly drew my hand back when I realized what I was doing. I instantly felt my cheeks grow hot. I had gotten so lost in pleasuring myself that I didn't even know how long I had been doing it. How had I managed to work myself up this bad?

I shook off the self-imposed sexual tension and finished lotioning my skin. I skipped over my chest because I knew I was just going to make it worse if I even so much as grazed my breasts.

Once finished, I turned to toss the lotion bottle on the bed and grabbed the underwear I had laid out. I was giving up on the idea of going outside. I was about to use this rain as an excuse to relax and get on Terry's last nerve. I slid the underwear on. While staring out the window, I got this eerie feeling that I was being watched. I looked around the open parking lot and checked the neighbors’ windows. I didn't see anyone or notice anything obvious so I tried to calm myself down.

As I turned around to walk to the bed, I ran into what felt like a brick wall. I stumbled backward but was grabbed by a set of hands I was all too familiar with— Terry's.

“Havana Rose, the hell you doin'?” Terry asked through gritted teeth. His hands tightened around my waist. I could sense the tension from his grip alone. Terry's head was tilted, and his jaw was tight. His face was scrawled with anger, but why was he angry?

I reached out to touch his forearm. “Terry, you okay?” I asked nervously.

“Nah, mama. You need to answer my damn question first. What…the…hell…were…you…doin'?” Terry asked again, annunciating every word.

“Nothin’, why? Is everything okay, baby?” I asked, moving closer to Terry.

“Nah, you know exactly what you did,” he said, placing his forehead on mine.

The intensity of Terry's stare let me know I was in deep shit. What had I done? I was at a loss because my mind was drawing a blank.

“What were you just doin' in front of that window, huh? Tell me, mama. What…were… you…doin'?” Terry asked, his hand moving to grip the side of my face.

He tilted my head back so I was looking directly at him. I stuttered through my thoughts. Nothing was coming together. I was in trouble and didn't know why.

“Daddy, can you just tell me? I wasn't doing anything that I'm aware of. I swear… this ain't me playin’. Terry?” I babbled finally able to form a semi-coherent thought.

“When you were in front of that window, where were your hands?” Terry asked, snaking his hand from my face to the back of my head.

“I was putting on lotion. So, I guess,… they were on me,” I stammered. I was praying that was the right answer.

“Nah, after that! Better yet, what were you doin' with them after puttin’ on lotion ‘Vana?” Terry snapped. His voice was low and rumbly. Every word carried through his chest like a roar.

“Fine. Come here. Maybe, this'll help!” Terry said, guiding me back to the window. “Stand right there and show me what you were doin'!” Terry boomed.

“Okay!” I yelled back as I turned to face the window.

“Oh, this ain't the time for you to have a damn attitude, ‘Vana. Now, show me!” Terry snapped.

I mentally went through all of my motions— feet, legs, arms, thighs…. Shit! My eyes widened in horror and embarrassment.

“Yeah, if I could see you doin' it, only God knows who else. Why would you stand in front of a window playin’ with yourself?” Terry said, closing in the space behind me.

His chest was now pressed into my back. He leaned down so his lips were touching my ear.

“So, we giving the neighbors a show?” Terry asked.

“No, I didn't mean to. I just thought no one could see me. I'm sorry,” I said, turning to face Terry.

“Mmm mmm, stay facing the window,” Terry said, leaning up again.

I could hear Terry moving behind me. I tried to peek over my shoulder. I was growing anxious and tense. I didn't know what Terry was doing behind me.

Out of my peripheral, I saw Terry's shirt land on the floor. Before I could question him, I heard his belt buckle clinking. He was undressing! I heard his pants rustling amidst my panicking. I could hear his pants hit the floor. Without warning, he kicked those to be in a pile with his shirt.

“Terry…,” I whined, twiddling with my thumbs. I was biting the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. I winced at the pain.

“Don't talk. Just listen,” he said, pushing up the back of the towel and pulling down my underwear.

His hands began to caress and rub all over my bare ass.

“You know I have half a mind to tear yo’ ass up, but what good would a spankin’ do? I say… since you wanna put on a show for the neighbors, let's put on a show,” he said, leaning into me.

“But I didn't mean to… I swear. I was thinkin' about… you,” I whined, shrinking underneath him.

“Thinkin’ about me, huh? What were you thinkin’ about?” Terry asked, pressing his hips into my ass. His dick was hard and begging to be released from his boxers.

“You… um… touchin’ me,” I moaned out.

“You lyin' to me, baby girl?” Terry asked, placing one of his hands between us. I could feel him free his dick, causing it to poke the back of my ass.

I shrank down, moaning into the feeling. Terry instantly pulled me back up. Throwing his hands around me, he locked me in place. I had nowhere to run.

“You know Mr. Fitz was outside near the side of the building. When I pulled up, he was looking all strange and staring at the sky. Just for me to realize… he was lookin' at you. You had that poor old man stuck, girl. How do you feel about that?” Terry asked, grabbing a patch of hair at the nape of my neck.

“I didn't see anyone. It just happened. I started daydreamin’ and got lost in it. That's why I stopped,” I mewled.

By the way Terry was moving and the tone of his voice, I knew where this was going.

“That's the problem. YOU didn't see anyone, but I did. You like showing people what's mine? You liked the thought of someone seein’ you, huh? Is that what you want ‘Vana? You want the neighbors to see how nasty you can get? Their precious little baby girl…,” Terry huffed, using his feet to push mine apart.

He used his body weight to bend me over. His hand stayed in its place, tangled in my messy hair. He dipped his hips so his dick was positioned at my entrance. His other hand disappeared between us. I felt him guide the tip of his dick inside me.

“Since you wanna give them a show, let's give them one. I wanna Oscar-worthy performance outta you. Understood?” Terry barked.

“Yes, Daddy. I understand,” I said, leaning into him. There was nothing else I could do.

“You… better… show… out,” Terry annunciated through gritted teeth.

Without another word, he pushed his dick inside of me. My pussy pushed him out, begging for a little relief. He pushed half of himself back in, stoking into me slowly.

“What’s wrong? You can’t take Daddy’s dick all of a sudden?” he asked, mocking me.

I couldn't focus on a fuckin’ word that was coming out of his mouth. I was already struggling to breathe and stay upright. I reached out to hold onto the frame of the window. Before I could gather myself, Terry's dick started knocking the Sonic rings out of my pussy. He was definitely pissed. The only time Terry delivered dick like this was when he was angry. But this time, Daddy was angry!

“Ahh, fuck!” I said, falling forward.

Between Terry’s teasing and my previous self-pleasure, it took no time for him to bottom out. My pussy swallowed Terry’s dick whole, pulling him in like a vacuum. I was so gone that I hadn't forgotten we were in front of a window.

“Don’t let that towel fall. That’s all you focus on!” Terry groaned.

“Okay!” I screamed.

I was falling under the weight of pleasure. My legs were already turning into jello.

“Baby girl, focus. You ain't gone fall. You gone stay right here with Daddy,” Terry said, using his grip on my hair to pull me back up.

My eyes were closing, and my toes were curling into the carpet. I could feel every inch of Terry’s dick inside of me— every push and every pull. The level of pleasure I was feeling had me floating. My pussy clearly had a mind of its own because the grip it had on Terry’s dick was not intentional.

“Come on, mama. I feel you, baby. I feel you. Let’em see you, baby. Show’em why Daddy ain't never leavin’. Come on,” Terry groaned as his fingertips dug into my hip.

“Please, don’t stop!” I screamed. My voice carried through the apartment. I knew the neighbors heard me, but I didn’t care. Poor, Mrs. Geraldine.

I arched my back as much as this position would allow. I started to catch Terry’s rhythm, throwing my ass back on him with fervor.

“There you go. That’s what the fuck I'm talkin’ bout. Show out for Daddy, baby. You got this!” Terry said, smacking me on my ass.

I opened my eyes to see the window fogging up, causing me to smile. Realization set in that I was letting this man fuck me in front of a window. At this point, oh fucking well. I didn't care who saw me, and I for damn sure didn't care who heard.

His strokes were knocking me down something serious right now. How was I going to tell this man I wanted to be fucked like this all the time? Just walk in, get naked, and get to fucking work.

“Fuck, baby. Daddy’s close, but I need you to finish first. Come here,” Terry said, removing his hand from my hair.

He placed his hand down the top of my towel and began twirling my left nipple.

“Ahh, fuck!” I hissed.

His other hand fell from my hip, slipping around and under the bottom of my towel. Using the pads of his fingers, he began rubbing my clit. Already sensitive, I shuddered as I felt the first wave of my orgasm approaching.

“Daddy!” I yelled, throwing my head back.

“That’s right! Let it go, baby. Cum on your dick. Wet me up, ‘Vana!” Terry yelled. I could feel his dick throbbing inside of me.

Like a tsunami, I squirted all over Terry’s dick. My cum dripped down my thighs and legs, leaving a wet spot on the carpet below us.

“That’s it. That’s my good girl! You ready for Daddy, baby?” Terry grunted.

I could feel his hips stuttering as his strokes faltered as he was still in search of his own release. His strokes became shallow but held the same power and intensity. The smacking of our bodies echoed through the room like our own version of Morse code.

“’Vana, knees. I need you… ahhh… I need you on your knees, baby. Now!” Terry barked, pulling out of me.

I turned around at the speed of light, dropping to my knees in front of Terry. I knew the routine— mouth open, tongue out, hands on my lap, eyes on Daddy.

“Good girl,” Terry said, stroking himself while slapping his dick on my tongue.

Terry’s sat his dick on my tongue and threw his head back. “Give it to me, mama,” he groaned.

I wrapped my lips around Terry’s dick and began sucking him with a hunger only he could cure. His hands went to the back of my head, not to guide me but to stabilize himself. I looked up, searching for his eyes. Seeing Terry come undone under my doing, knowing he had full intentions of probably destroying me, made me smile.

I pushed further and swallowed the rest of him until my lips reached his base. I relaxed my throat and bobbed my head back and forth.

“Fuck, mama!” Terry yelled as his head dropped to look at me.

Terry's dick stiffened in my mouth. As soon as I felt the first drop of cum, I sucked him up again and rested at the base. Ropes of cum spilled to the back of my throat as I swallowed what would have been mouthfuls. This load was different— heavy, dense, and full of emotion. Breathing through my nose and relaxing underneath him, I let Terry empty himself and ride out his high in its entirety. I had no intentions of disturbing him.

Once he was finished, Terry released himself from my mouth. Looking down at me, he cupped my face in his hands. He pulled me up from the floor and pulled me into a heated kiss. It was clear that his anger had subsided, but the passion was still there. His tongue danced around mine, dominating the kiss. He drew in a breath and sucked in my bottom lip. I moaned out, feeling myself get worked up again. Terry pulled back slowly, leaving me craving more.

“Oh, don’t worry, mama. We got all day,” he said, picking me up and carrying me to the bathroom.

Today was going to be a long day. Pray for me.

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crossfandomskylines · 2 days ago

Text

In the Space Between Us: Chapter 8

OTHER CHAPTERS:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5

Chapter 6 I Chapter 7

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: Glen navigates a busy morning while Gabby lingers in the comfort of his home, enjoying the ease of their growing connection. When he returns from a meeting, the sight of Gabby and Brisket on his couch stirs something deeper in him. Their conversation takes an unexpected turn when Glen asks Gabby an important question that could change their relationship.

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: None.

A/N: I am really loving these two! I mean I've always loved them but I really feel like we are seeing their relationship develop now! I haven't been able to stop writing the past few days! Hoping to have the next chapter up sometime this weekend after the holiday. Please let me know what you think with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs! Also if you'd like to be tagged please let me know!

Tag List: @djs8891 @queenslandlover-93 @teacupsandtopgun @loveatfirsttornado

The shrill buzz of Glen’s alarm cut through the stillness of the morning, pulling him from the edges of a pleasant dream. He groaned softly, his hand fumbling on the nightstand until he silenced the sound. The room was dim, early sunlight seeping through the blinds, casting a soft glow over Gabby, who was still curled up beside him.

Glen turned his head, the sight of her drawing a slow smile to his lips. Her hair was slightly tousled, her face peaceful against the pillow, and one arm peeked out from beneath the covers. She looked so at ease, so comfortable in his bed, that he almost didn’t want to disturb her. But he had a couple of meetings with a director this morning before he flew to Austin, and he knew she’s have to go to her apartment.

Shifting closer, he gently nudged her shoulder. “Gabs, time to wake up,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with sleep.

Gabby stirred just enough to grumble something unintelligible, burrowing further into the blankets and tugging them up to cover most of her face. Glen chuckled quietly, his heart warming at the sight.

“Five more minutes?” she mumbled, her voice muffled.

“I’ve already stayed here five longer than I should have, babe,” he teased, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the top of her head. She peeked out from the cocoon of blankets, one eye barely cracking open, her expression adorably unamused.

“Go away,” she murmured, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her with a faint smile.

Glen shook his head, amused. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you sleep a little longer while I get ready,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered for a moment, and he kissed her temple before sliding out of bed, careful not to disturb her further.

As he stood and stretched, Glen glanced back at the bed. Gabby had already nestled deeper into the pillows, her breathing evening out once again. The sight sent a pang of something he wasn’t quite ready to name through his chest—a mixture of affection and contentment that felt as foreign as it did welcome.

With a soft exhale, he padded toward the bathroom to start his day, leaving her in the quiet comfort of her dreams.

Glen moved through his morning routine with practiced efficiency, though his thoughts kept drifting back to the woman still curled up in his bed. By the time he had showered, shaved, and dressed in his button-down and jeans, he found himself smiling at the thought of her waiting just a few feet away.

He took one last glance in the mirror, and then Glen grabbed his phone and keys from the dresser before making his way back to the bed. Gabby hadn’t moved much—her small frame was still buried under the comforter, the occasional soft rise and fall of the blankets confirming she was happily lost in sleep.

He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to gently shake her shoulder. “Gabby,” he murmured, his voice warm. “It’s time to wake up.”

She made a sound somewhere between a whine and a grumble, turning her head just enough to bury her face in the pillow. “Mmm, no it’s not,” she muttered, her voice thick with sleep.

Glen grinned, leaning closer. “Come on, sleepyhead. I’ve gotta head out. And you’ve gotta go home.”

When that didn’t elicit much more than a faint groan, he tried a different approach. Sliding closer, he leaned over her and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, then her forehead.

“Wake up,” he whispered teasingly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Instead of stirring, Gabby shifted closer to him, nuzzling into his chest like a cat seeking warmth.

“Don’t go,” she mumbled, her words barely audible but brimming with sleepy stubbornness. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing slightly, and mumbled, “Stay.”

Glen couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, low and full of affection. “Oh, is that how it’s gonna be? Trying to hold me down so I stay?” he asked, brushing a hand over her back.

She hummed, her lips curving into a faint smile against his shirt. “Mmhmm. You don’t need to go to your meeting. Meetings are overrated.”

“You think so? So this meeting about a script and a possible role isn’t important?” he asked, his amusement growing.

“Not right now,” she said, her voice muffled. She tightened her hold on him as if her sleepy protest might actually convince him to stay.

He shook his head, both exasperated and charmed. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Her only response was a soft hum of agreement, followed by another nuzzle against him.

Glen laughed again, his resolve weakening with every adorable little move she made. “Alright, you win this round. Five more minutes of this, and then we really have to go.”

He stayed there, holding her for just a moment longer than he probably should have, savoring the way she fit so perfectly in his arms, even when half-asleep and obstinate.

Five minutes turned into ten before Glen finally glanced at his watch and sighed. If he didn’t leave soon, he was going to cut it dangerously close to his meeting. As much as he wanted to stay wrapped up with Gabby in the cozy warmth of his bed, duty called.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said softly, shifting slightly to look at her. “As much as I’d love to stay right here with you all day, we really need to get going.”

Gabby made a faint noise of protest, burrowing deeper into the covers and tugging the comforter up to her chin. “Nooo,” she mumbled. “Don’t want to leave.”

“Come on, babe,” he coaxed, his lips twitching into a smile. “I’ve got to head out soon, and I want to say goodbye before I leave.”

“Nope,” she mumbled, clutching the comforter tighter around her. “You can say goodbye to the blanket. I live here now.”

Glen laughed, shaking his head. “You live here now, huh? That’s news to me.”

“Mmm bed’s really comfy. And warm. I like it here.”

Glen laughed, the rich sound filling the room. “Oh, is that your master plan? Moving in with me so you can turn me into your personal heater and make me late for every meeting?”

Gabby’s grin widened, and she shrugged under the covers. “Sounds like a win-win to me.”

Shaking his head, Glen leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Tempting as that sounds, I’ve really got to go.” He paused, glancing down at her still-snuggled form. “But if you want, you can stay here while I’m out. Make yourself at home. There’s food in the fridge, and you can hang out with Brisket—he’s an excellent host.”

Her eyes brightened, peeking out from beneath the blanket. “Really? You don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” he said with a warm smile. “Besides, it’ll be nice to come home and find you here.”

Gabby’s cheeks flushed faintly, and she buried her face against the pillow for a moment before looking back up at him. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

“Good.” Glen sat up fully and reached for his phone and keys on the nightstand. “But before I go, think I could get a proper goodbye?”

Gabby smirked, pushing herself up slightly and letting the covers fall just enough to reveal her sleep-rumpled hair and flushed cheeks. “Proper goodbye, huh? What’s that entail?”

“Well,” Glen said, leaning down until their noses were nearly touching, “it usually involves a kiss. Or two. Maybe three, if I’m lucky.”

Gabby giggled softly, but her laughter faded as he closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was soft but brimming with warmth. She sighed against him, her fingers brushing lightly over his jaw as if she didn’t want him to leave, either.

When they finally pulled apart, Glen smiled down at her, his voice low and teasing. “You’re making it really hard for me to leave, you know that?”

“Good,” she whispered, her eyes dancing with affection.

With one last kiss, Glen reluctantly stood and grabbed his bag, glancing back at her one more time. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart. I’ll leave a key on the counter for you in case you leave. Just lock up if you do,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “Get some rest, alright?”

As he grabbed his bag and headed for the door, he glanced back one more time, finding her still nestled in his bed, her smile the last thing he saw before stepping out into the morning sun.

A few hours later the late morning light filtered through the curtains as Gabby stirred awake, her hand instinctively reaching out to find Brisket curled up beside her. The dog’s tail thumped lazily against the bed as he stretched, his big brown eyes looking up at her with quiet expectation.

“Good morning, Brisky,” she murmured, her voice still groggy as she ran her fingers through his soft fur. He gave a happy little huff, leaning into her touch.

She spent several minutes like that, scratching behind his ears and rubbing his belly, enjoying the quiet comfort of the moment. Eventually, Brisket rolled onto his side, content to let her keep going if she wanted.

Gabby finally sat up, rubbing her eyes and glancing around the room. Her clothes from the previous night were folded neatly on the chair by the window—a small gesture she assumed Glen had done before he left. She smiled at the thought.

As she stood and padded over to retrieve them, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She grabbed it and saw a text from Glen:

Glen: Hey, sleepyhead. Make yourself comfortable while I’m gone. Bathroom’s all yours if you want to shower, and feel free to steal a shirt or some sweats from my closet if you want. 😉

Gabby chuckled softly, rereading the message before glancing toward the bathroom. The idea of freshening up sounded appealing, especially since she’d spent the night in his bed after their first time together.

She made her way into the bathroom, turning on the shower and letting the steam fill the space. Glen’s thoughtfulness lingered in her mind as she stepped under the warm spray, washing away the remnants of sleep and feeling more awake with each passing minute.

When she emerged, wrapped in a fluffy towel, she couldn’t help but feel more at ease. Glen’s place smelled like him—clean and woodsy with a hint of something citrusy—and it made her smile as she stepped back into the bedroom.

She slid her jeans from the day before back on, but paused when she caught sight of the closet. His offer from the text replayed in her mind, and after a moment’s hesitation, she opened the door. Inside was a neatly organized row of clothes, and she quickly spotted the burnt orange of several Texas Longhorns t-shirts.

Pulling one from the hanger, she held it up for a moment before slipping it over her head. The cotton was soft and oversized, falling just past her hips. It smelled faintly of Glen, and she felt her cheeks warm as she smoothed it down.

Brisket gave an approving wag of his tail as she emerged from the closet, looking a little more put together but still comfortable.

“Well,” she said to the dog, crouching to scratch under his chin. “Looks like it’s just you and me for now. Think your dad will mind if I raid his ktichen?”

Brisket trotted after her as she made her way to the kitchen, his tail wagging happily. Gabby paused by the coffee maker, taking in the small but telling details of Glen’s space. The fridge had a handful of pictures and magnets—some of what she assumed were his family, a couple of him with Tanner and other friends, and one of Brisket as a puppy.

As she moved around, Gabby felt a strange mix of emotions. On one hand, she couldn’t deny how natural it felt to be here, as if this space already held a place for her. On the other hand, it was surreal. She’d only known Glen for a little over a month, and yet she felt more at ease here than she ever had in other people’s homes.

She opened a cabinet above the coffee maker, looking for something to drink. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of Glen’s coffee pods and the bag of ground coffee sitting on the shelf. Coffee was his thing, not hers. She much preferred tea—something warm and calming to start the day.

Scanning the shelves, her eyes froze on a small box tucked neatly into the corner. A box of her favorite brand of tea.

Gabby’s fingers hesitated before reaching for it, almost like she wasn’t sure it was real. Turning the box over in her hands, she studied the familiar logo and flavor, the same one she kept stocked at her own place.

She couldn’t help but smile as her chest tightened with a mix of emotions. He didn’t drink tea—she knew that much. Glen was a coffee guy through and through. Which could only mean one thing: he’d bought it for her.

Placing the box gently on the counter, she pulled out her phone and fired off a quick text.

Gabby: Did you buy my tea for your place?

It didn’t take long for his reply.

Glen: Yeah. Saw it at your place. Thought you might want some here if you stayed the night or ever needed it.

Her throat tightened as she stared at the message, rereading it several times. The simplicity of it struck her harder than she’d expected. It wasn’t some grand romantic gesture, but that was what made it so significant. Glen had noticed something small—something most people wouldn’t even think twice about—and he’d acted on it just for her.

No one had ever done something like that for her before.

She ran her fingers over the edge of the box, her mind swirling with thoughts she wasn’t quite ready to say aloud. But one thing was clear: this was different. He was different.

With a soft smile tugging at her lips, she set the kettle on the stove to boil.

* * * *

The early afternoon sun hung high as Glen parked his truck in the driveway, grateful to finally be done with his back-to-back meetings. The day had been productive but draining, and all he wanted now was a quiet moment to decompress at home.

As he unlocked the front door and pushed it open, he was greeted by a sight that stopped him in his tracks.

There was Gabby. Curled up on his couch, a blanket draped over her legs, with Brisket sprawled across her lap. Her hand moved absentmindedly along the dog’s fur as she focused on the TV, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she watched whatever show or movie held her attention.

Glen didn’t move. He just stood there in the doorway, taking it in. It was such a simple scene, but something about it felt... right. Almost too right.

He leaned lightly against the doorframe, his hand still resting on the doorknob as he let the moment settle over him. The faint sounds of the TV mixed with Brisket’s contented sighs. The way Gabby looked so at ease in his home, wrapped in his blanket, wearing his shirt. The way Brisket, who wasn’t usually so quick to cuddle up like that to people that weren’t him, was completely at peace with her. Glen felt a tug in his chest, a mix of emotions he wasn’t entirely sure how to process. This. He could get used to this. Coming home to her.

The thought startled him, and he quickly shook his head, as if trying to clear it. Too soon, he told himself firmly. It’s only been a month.

But his gaze drifted back to her anyway, and damn it if he couldn’t help the way his chest tightened again. Gabby had a way of making things feel effortless. Natural. Like this was exactly where she belonged, even if it wasn’t logical or planned. He hadn’t planned to have her spend the night when he invited her over last night. He wasn’t against it, but it wasn’t expected. He definitely hadn’t planned to let her stay at his house while he was gone, but again, he wasn’t against it. And it wasn’t logical to want to come home to her every day after only knowing her a month. But damn, was he not against the idea of doing this every day.

She must have sensed his presence because her head turned, her eyes locking on his. A smile broke across her face, warm and inviting, and suddenly Glen didn’t care if it was too soon or not.

“Hey, stranger,” she teased, shifting on the couch to face him more fully.

Glen glanced up at her, his expression softening. “Hey,” he said, straightening and crossing the room toward her. “How’s your day been?”

“Not bad,” she replied, setting the remote down. “Brisket and I have just been holding down the fort. You?”

“Busy,” Glen admitted, brushing a hand through his hair. “Meetings ran a little long, but nothing too bad. Just glad to be home now.” He leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

Glen then glanced at Brisket, who gave him a sleepy wag of his tail, but made no move to relinquish his spot on Gabby’s lap and give Glen a proper welcome home greeting.

Glen huffed out a laugh. “Traitor,” he said to Brisket, earning a snort of laughter from Gabby.

Gabby smiled, her heart skipping the way it always seemed to when he was near.

“We missed you,” she said softly, a teasing note in her voice.

“Well, I’m here now,” Glen said with a grin. He straightened, pulling off his jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair.

His eyes then glanced to the TV, and that was when he noticed what she was watching. Twisters.

“Really?” He drawled, his lips quirking into a grin.

“What? It’s a good movie.” Gabby said as she gave him a mock innocent look. "And I saw you had a copy of it on the coffee table so decided to watch it. How did you even get a copy of it? It's still in theaters."

"Actors always get a copy before it's released." He chuckled as he stood near the back of the couch. “You’re really watching one of my movies?”

She smirked, glancing up at him. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself. I’m just watching it for David Corenswet.”

Glen let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Noted,” he said lightly, a teasing glint in his eye.

Gabby grinned at his reaction, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What can I say? The man’s got great cheekbones.”

“Uh-huh.” Glen said as he rounded the couch and sat down beside her, his hand casually grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on her lap. He pointed at the screen, where his character had just entered, stepping out of the pickup truck and amping up the crowd.

“So, how’s David doing so far?” He asked, gesturing towards himself on screen.

She laughed and nudged his shoulder. “Not bad, but your character? Kind of a showoff.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping into a low drawl that mimicked the character’s. “Careful what you say there, city girl.”

Gabby blinked at him, caught off guard by how effortlessly he’d slipped into the role. Then she burst into laughter, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my God, Glen! Don’t do that—it’s so weird hearing it in real life!”

“What? You don’t like it?” He grinned as he grabbed the remote, pausing the movie just as his character started to flirt shamelessly with the female lead. “City girl’s practically my catchphrase in this thing. I figured you’d appreciate the authenticity.”

“Yeah, I’m good, thanks,” she said, trying to hold back her laughter.

But Glen wasn’t done. He leaned back on the couch, his arm draping over the backrest as he gave her a lazy smirk. “Admit it. You kinda like being called city girl.”

Gabby rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed slightly. “Not even a little bit.”

“Hmm,” he mused, his voice light and teasing. “I don’t know. You seem like you’re blushing a little there, city girl.”

She swatted his arm, still laughing. “If you call me that one more time, I’m going to finish this movie without you.”

He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Fair enough,” he said, settling back against the couch. But the smirk on his face told her he wasn’t done using the nickname anytime soon. “You enjoy your movie, I’ve gotta pack before my flight later,” Glen said before standing up from the couch.

Gabby raised a brow. “Isn’t your flight not for another four hours? That much to pack, huh?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Just trying to stay ahead of things. Most of my stuff’s at the ranch, but there are a few things I like to travel with.”

“Fair enough,” she said, watching as he grabbed his carry-on from the closet near the door.

“You can keep watching your show,” he said, nodding toward the TV as he headed down the hall. “I’ll just be in the bedroom if you need me.”

The faint sound of rustling came from Glen’s bedroom as Gabby wandered down the hallway, curiosity pulling her closer. She stopped at the doorway, leaning her shoulder against the frame, and smiled at the sight of Glen moving around the room. He had a small carry-on suitcase open on the bed and was in the middle of folding a few shirts with surprising precision.

“What’s this?” Gabby teased lightly, crossing her arms as she watched him. “You’re a neat packer? Didn’t see that coming.”

Glen glanced up with a smirk, a t-shirt in his hands. “Gotta keep the chaos somewhere, and it’s not going in my suitcase.”

Gabby laughed, her eyes roaming over the room. Most of his essentials were probably at his ranch in Austin, but the sight of him packing made her realize just how much time he must split between his two homes. She could see the well-practiced ease in the way he moved, grabbing what he needed without hesitation.

“Big plans in Austin?” she asked, shifting her weight as she watched him.

“Just the usual when I’m there,” he replied, tucking the t-shirt into the suitcase before grabbing his laptop bag from the desk. “A couple work related meetings. But mostly hanging out with my family, catching up with a few friends.” He glanced up at her, his expression softening. “It’s been a while since I’ve been home for more than a day at a time. Feels like I’m always on the road these days.”

Gabby nodded, stepping into the room and perching on the edge of the bed. Brisket followed her, flopping down at her feet. “That’s what happens when you’re a big-time movie star,” she teased, though her tone was gentle.

“Yeah,” Glen said, rolling his eyes but smiling. He zipped up the laptop bag and set it next to the suitcase. “It’s not all bad. I like being busy. But sometimes…” He trailed off, his gaze flicking to her for a moment before he turned to grab a pair of boots from the corner.

“Sometimes what?” she prompted, tilting her head.

“Sometimes it’s nice to slow down for a bit. And it’d be nice to have someone to share it with,” he admitted, his voice quieter now.

Gabby’s cheeks warmed at the admission, and she glanced down at Brisket to hide her smile. “Well, you’ve got Brisket,” she said lightly, scratching the dog’s ears.

Glen chuckled, shaking his head as he set the boots next to his suitcase. “He’s great company, but he’s not much for conversation.”

Gabby laughed softly, the sound filling the room. Glen looked at her again, and for a moment, the air between them shifted—something unspoken hanging in the space.

He leaned back against the dresser, crossing his arms. “You should come with me,” he said suddenly, the words tumbling out with an ease that surprised even him.

Gabby blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“To Austin,” Glen clarified, gesturing toward the suitcase. “Come with me. It’s just for four or five days, and I’d like to show you around my world, you know?”

She stared at him, her heart skipping a beat. “Glen…”

“You don’t have to. No pressure,” he added quickly, straightening up. “I just thought… it might be nice. My family’s been asking about you, and it’d give us some time together before things get crazy again.”

Gabby hesitated, her mind racing. She wanted to say yes—of course she did. The thought of seeing Glen’s hometown, meeting his family, and spending more time with him was tempting. But the idea of stepping deeper into his world, into something that felt so significant, made her nervous. They had only known each other a month…and technically they had only been dating for a couple weeks. Was it too early to meet his family?

“Are you sure?” she asked softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Glen said, stepping closer. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I want you there, Gabs. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

Gabby gave him a small smile, appreciating his words, but she could feel the questions swirling in her mind.

“What if they don’t like me? Your family, I mean,”

Glen blinked, startled by her confession. “Why wouldn’t they like you?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine confusion.

She shrugged, her fingers fidgeting slightly with the hem of her sleeve.

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “It’s just… they’re your family, you know? What if I don’t fit in? What if they don’t think I’m…good enough for you?”

His expression softened, and he reached up to gently tilt her chin so that she was looking at him.

“Gabby,” he said, his voice steady and full of conviction. “They’re going to love you because I already do.” The words slipped out before he even realized what he was saying, and as soon as he heard them, he froze.

Gabby’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. “What did you just say?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Glen hesitated, his heart racing as he tried to gauge her reaction. “I…” He exhaled a small, nervous laugh. “I guess I just said it, huh?”

She stared at him, her emotions a whirlwind of shock, warmth, and something deeper. “You love me?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

He nodded, his gaze unwavering despite his nerves. “I do,” he said simply. “I know it’s fast, and maybe that’s crazy, but I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”

Her heart felt like it might burst, but at the same time, she felt a flicker of fear.

“Glen…” she started, her voice barely audible.

He smiled gently, sensing her hesitation. “You don’t have to say it back,” he said softly. “I don’t want to push you into anything. I just wanted you to know how I feel about you…about us.”

Gabby swallowed hard, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “I think…” she began, her voice trembling. “I think I love you too.”

Glen’s breath hitched, and a smile broke across his face. “You do?”

She nodded, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “Yeah,” she said, her voice steadying. “But it scares me. I’ve never fallen this fast before, and I don’t know what that means. What if—”

He stopped her with a soft kiss, his lips brushing against hers in a way that felt both grounding and reassuring.

“It’s okay to be scared,” he murmured when they broke apart. “I’m a little scared too. But we’ll figure it out together.”

Gabby exhaled a shaky breath, her heart full but still wary. “You make it sound so simple,” she said with a soft laugh.

“It is simple. Or at least it can be,” Glen said, his arm tightening around her. “Because I want to be with you, Gabby. That’s all that matters to me. We can figure out the rest as we go.”

His sincerity melted some of her hesitation, and she found herself nodding slowly. “Okay,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll go.”

Glen’s grin was immediate, lighting up his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, laughing at his boyish excitement.

He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “You won’t regret it,” he promised, already mentally rearranging his plans to make room for her.

As Glen carefully folded a button-up shirt into his carry-on, Gabby crossed her arms, the gears clearly turning in her head. Then, without saying a word, she slipped her phone from her back pocket and started typing.

Glen glanced over, catching the concentrated furrow of her brow. “What are you doing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he zipped up a small toiletries bag.

“Nothing,” Gabby replied a little too quickly, her tone light but not fooling him in the slightest.

He straightened, watching her as she tapped away on her screen. She didn’t even look up as she moved a step back into the hallway, like she was trying to be subtle.

“Gabby.” His voice carried a teasing edge now, his curiosity fully piqued. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” she repeated, her focus still on her phone. “Just… looking something up.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, stepping toward her slowly, like a predator zeroing in on its prey.

Gabby finally glanced up, holding her phone close to her chest as if that would shield her from his scrutiny. “I’m just seeing if there’s a flight I can catch to Austin today since I’m going with you,” she admitted, the hint of defiance in her tone softened by the hopeful smile tugging at her lips.

Glen blinked, then let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Seriously? You’re trying to book a flight right now?”

“Well, yeah,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re leaving in a few hours. If I’m going to go with you, I need to get my ticket booked, if I even can get one this late.”

“You’re not even sure you’ll get on the same flight,” Glen pointed out, crossing his arms and leaning a shoulder against the doorframe.

“That’s why I was going to check,” she said matter-of-factly. “What airline are you flying, anyway?”

He stared at her for a beat, piecing it all together. And then it clicked: she wasn’t just checking out flights—she was planning to book one herself. Without missing a beat, Glen moved forward and plucked the phone from her hand before she could react.

“Glen!” Gabby protested, standing on her toes to try to snatch it back.

He held the phone high above his head, easily out of her reach. “Nope,” he said, grinning as she half-jumped in an attempt to grab it.

“You’re being ridiculous!” she said, laughing despite herself.

“Am I? Or are you the ridiculous one for thinking I’d let you pay for your own flight?” Glen teased, his voice playful as he took a step back, still holding the phone aloft.

“Glen!” she said again, her laugh turning exasperated.

He softened, his grin easing into a lopsided smile. “Gabby,” he said, his voice dropping to something warmer. “I’m taking care of it, okay? Let me handle it.”

Her eyes narrowed, though her lips twitched in amusement. “You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he cut her off gently. “You’re coming with me as my guest. I’ll make sure everything’s sorted. No arguments.”

He handed her phone back with a mock solemnity, and she snatched it quickly, her cheeks flushed. “Fine,” she muttered, though her smile betrayed her. “But you don’t have to do this for me, you know.”

“I know,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face as his expression softened. “But I like taking care of you.”

That earned him a shy glance and a small, genuine smile that sent a rush of warmth straight through his chest.

“Now, you should head home and get a bag packed,” he teased, pulling her into a quick hug before turning back to his own packing. “I’ll call and sort out your flight.”

Gabby shook her head with a chuckle but didn’t argue further as she walked back toward the living room, muttering something under her breath about “stubborn Texans.”

Glen couldn’t help but laugh to himself as he grabbed his phone, dialing the airline to add her to the reservation. If she thought he’d let her do this on her own, she had another thing coming.

As Glen wrapped up the call with the airline, ensuring Gabby’s seat was confirmed next to his, he heard the soft patter of her footsteps returning to the bedroom. He glanced up, finding her leaning casually against the doorframe again, her arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised.

"Okay," she began, tilting her head. "What about a hotel? Am I allowed to book that for myself, or are you going to wrestle my phone away for that too?"

Her teasing tone was playful, but there was a spark of curiosity in her eyes, like she was genuinely testing his response.

Glen smirked, leaning back against the dresser he’d been packing beside, arms crossed as he met her gaze. "I mean, I could book you one," he drawled, letting the words hang in the air for a beat.

Gabby raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"But only if you really want one," he finished, his tone dropping into something softer, almost hesitant. "You’re also more than welcome to stay at my place."

Her confident smirk faltered just a little as she straightened, clearly taken off guard by his suggestion. "Stay…with you? Like for the whole trip?"

Glen nodded, his gaze steady as he shrugged one shoulder, trying to keep his tone light despite the vulnerability he felt creeping in. "Yeah. I’ve got plenty of space. You’d have your own room, if you want, or… I mean, you could share mine. Totally up to you."

Gabby’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t respond right away. Instead, she stepped further into the room, her expression unreadable.

Sensing her hesitation, Glen cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as he added quickly, "I just figured it’d be easier, you know? No back-and-forth, no figuring out rides or whatever. But seriously, no pressure. If you’d rather a hotel, I can—"

"Glen," Gabby interrupted, her voice cutting through his rambling with a small laugh. She stepped closer, standing just a foot or so away now, her expression softening into something almost shy.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice quieter now, unsure of where she was going with this.

She looked down for a moment, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before meeting his eyes again. "I’d… like to stay with you," she admitted, her cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink. "If that’s really okay."

The grin that spread across Glen’s face was instant and impossible to hide. "Of course it’s okay," he said, his voice warm. "I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t."

Gabby let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "Okay, then. But just so you know, if you snore in your sleep I’m kicking you to the couch."

Glen chuckled, reaching out to gently tug her closer by the hand. "Noted," he said, his voice low, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. "Though, for the record, I’ve never been accused of snoring, so you might be stuck with me all night every night.."

They stood like that for a moment, the playful banter fading into a quiet, comfortable silence. Glen glanced down at her, the corners of his lips still quirked in a smile, and he swore his heart skipped a beat.

"You sure you’re ready for almost a week in Texas?" he asked, his tone teasing but his gaze searching hers, looking for any hint of doubt.

Gabby’s smile grew, her fingers tightening slightly around his. "I think the better question is," she said, tilting her head, "are you ready for me to go to Texas and meet your family?"

Glen laughed, a soft, genuine sound that filled the room. "Guess we’ll find out," he said, squeezing her hand once before letting her go.

"Now," he added, turning back to his suitcase with a grin, "you’d better start packing. We don’t have all day, city girl."

Gabby rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face didn’t fade as she headed back toward the living room. "I’ll have you know, I’m a farm girl. Grew up in Missouri, remember? I’ve lived in the city for like a month. I’m a country girl." She called over her shoulder.

Glen grinned, crossing the room toward her. "Oh yeah? You sure about that?"

She tilted her chin up, feigning indignation. "Positive. And I’ll prove it this weekend."

Glen laughed softly, stopping just in front of her. "Guess I’ll hold you to that," he murmured, his smile softening as he reached out to tug her gently into his arms.

Gabby’s playful expression melted into something warmer as she slid her arms around his waist. They stood there for a moment, her head resting against his chest, his chin brushing the top of her hair.

"Thanks for letting me tag along with you this weekend," she said softly, her voice muffled against him.

Glen pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt her face up toward his. "Thanks for saying yes," he replied, his tone equally quiet, his thumb brushing lightly along her jaw.

She smiled up at him, and before either of them could think too much about it, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was soft and lingering, a promise wrapped in tenderness.

When they finally broke apart, Gabby let out a small laugh, her cheeks flushed. "Okay," she said, her voice teasing but her eyes bright. "Now I really have to go pack, or I’m going to miss our flight."

Glen chuckled, his hands resting on her hips as he nodded. "Okay, I’ll meet you at the airport, okay? Or do you want me to pick you up? I can have the Uber swing by your place.”

“I’ll just meet you at the airport.” Gabby smiles before giving him one more kiss and then heading towards the living room.

Gabby spotted Glen as soon as she entered the terminal, standing near the check-in counter with his carry-on bag slung over his shoulder. Even with a baseball cap pulled low over his brow and sunglasses hiding his eyes, he was impossible to miss. The confident way he stood, the sharp lines of his jaw, and the way he scanned the crowd as if he knew someone was bound to recognize him—it all made him look like he’d stepped out of a movie scene.

He noticed her almost immediately, a small, private smile curving his lips as she made her way toward him. Despite the distance between them, Gabby could see the subtle shift in his shoulders, as if her arrival was all he’d been waiting for.

“Hey,” she greeted softly when she reached him, glancing around to make sure they weren’t drawing any attention. “Have you been here long?”

“Not too long,” he replied, his voice low, warm. “I checked us in already. Figured you might want a tea, though, so I didn’t grab any coffee yet.”

Gabby grinned. “You know me well.” She glanced at the Starbucks line a little further down the terminal. “I’ll grab us some. What do you want?”

“Black coffee, medium,” Glen said, stepping closer as if to keep their conversation more private. “Thanks.”

As Gabby turned toward the coffee line, he added, “And don’t let the barista talk you into getting me one of those fancy seasonal drinks.”

Gabby laughed softly, tossing him a teasing look over her shoulder. “No promises, cowboy.”

The line at Starbucks was long but moving quickly. Gabby stood with her arms crossed, scrolling idly through her phone when a quiet commotion pulled her attention. A few feet away, she noticed Glen—still standing in the same spot—now surrounded by a small group of fans.

She froze for a moment, her heart catching in her throat. She knew this was part of his world, part of him, but it was the first time she was seeing it up close.

Glen had removed his sunglasses, and even from this distance, Gabby could see the practiced ease in his expression. He smiled politely, posed for a quick picture with a young woman holding her phone, and nodded as another fan gushed about how much they loved one of his movies.

What struck Gabby most wasn’t the interaction itself but the subtle shift in him. The easygoing Glen she knew—the one who teased her for being a “city girl” now and gave her goofy grins when he thought she wasn’t looking—was replaced with something more polished, more careful. He wasn’t cold, but he wasn’t entirely himself, either.

By the time Gabby reached the front of the line, Glen was slipping his sunglasses back on, signaling the end of the impromptu meet-and-greet. As she placed their order and waited for the drinks, she couldn’t help but glance at him again. He was already looking her way, giving her a small, reassuring smile as if to say, I’m still here. It’s just me.

When she returned with the drinks, she handed his to him and said lightly, “Looks like you made some new friends.”

Glen chuckled softly, adjusting his cap. “Yeah, they were nice. Thanks for grabbing this.” He took a sip, his eyes flicking around the terminal before landing back on her. “You okay?”

Gabby nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m fine. Just... getting used to this part of things.”

He hesitated, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “I get it. And if it ever gets to be too much, you tell me, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”

Her heart warmed at his words, and she nodded again. “Okay.”

As they made their way toward security, Glen reached for her hand instinctively, his fingers brushing against hers before he stopped himself. They exchanged a knowing look, both feeling the same pull but knowing they had to tread carefully.

On the plane, they settled into their seats near the back of first class. Glen’s cap and sunglasses were back in place, and Gabby couldn’t help but laugh quietly as he glanced over the in-flight magazine like he was trying to disappear.

“You know,” she said under her breath, “the hat and glasses make you look more like someone trying not to be recognized.”

He smirked, tilting the brim of his cap up slightly. “Noted. I’ll go full incognito next time. Fake mustache and all.”

Gabby stifled a laugh, but her amusement softened into something warmer as he reached for her hand under the armrest. Out of sight, their fingers laced together, a quiet rebellion against the invisible wall they’d built in public.

As the plane began to taxi, Gabby glanced at Glen, who had leaned his head back against the seat. He caught her looking and gave her a small, lopsided grin.

“Ready for Texas?” he asked, his voice low, almost a drawl.

She smiled back, squeezing his hand. “With you? Yeah. I’m ready.”

Midway through the flight, the hum of the engines and the dimmed cabin lights lulled Gabby into a light doze. Her head, which had been leaning against the window, gradually tilted sideways until it rested against Glen's shoulder. He glanced down, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he shifted slightly to make her more comfortable, careful not to disturb her.

She looked peaceful, her features soft and relaxed, and Glen couldn’t help but feel a tug of affection as he watched her. This was Gabby at her most unguarded, no cameras, no rehearsed lines, just her.

A shadow crossed over them, and Glen looked up to see a flight attendant standing in the aisle. She had a kind smile on her face, her hands clasped politely in front of her.

“Mr. Powell,” she said quietly, her gaze flickering to Gabby and then back to him. “Would you like me to wake her up? I can get her to sit up if she’s bothering you.”

Glen blinked, caught slightly off guard by the question. He quickly shook his head, his smile easy and warm. “Oh, no, no,” he said softly. “She’s fine. I don’t mind.”

The flight attendant hesitated, glancing at Gabby again as if to confirm. “Are you sure? I just thought, with you being, well... you—”

Glen chuckled under his breath, cutting her off gently. “Really, it’s fine,” he assured her, his voice low and sincere. He glanced down at Gabby for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile again before he added, “She’s my...”

He stopped himself just in time, realizing what he’d been about to say. Clearing his throat, he quickly corrected, “She’s fine.”

The flight attendant nodded, seeming satisfied, and murmured, “Alright. Just let me know if you need anything.” She moved on, leaving Glen alone with his thoughts.

He exhaled softly, tilting his head back against the seat and closing his eyes for a moment. His hand, resting between them, inched closer to Gabby’s, his fingertips brushing hers lightly.

It struck him then how natural it felt to have her leaning on him, how much he liked being her quiet anchor, even in something as ordinary as a flight. He didn’t need to put on any masks or play any part. Around Gabby, he could just be.

When the plane hit a patch of mild turbulence, Gabby stirred slightly, her head shifting against his shoulder. Glen turned to look at her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face with a tenderness that surprised even him.

“Go back to sleep, Gabs,” he murmured softly, his voice so low it was barely audible over the hum of the engines.

She didn’t wake, but her body seemed to relax even further against him, and Glen allowed himself to rest as well. He knew this trip would bring its challenges—introducing her to his family, keeping their relationship under wraps from prying eyes—but in this moment, none of that mattered.

For now, she was here, leaning on him, and that was enough.

The plane landed smoothly, and as the seatbelt sign dinged off, Gabby stretched and turned to Glen with a sleepy smile. He reached up to grab their bags from the overhead compartment, his movements practiced and efficient.

As they stepped off the plane and into the bustling terminal, Glen adjusted his baseball cap and sunglasses, doing his best to remain inconspicuous. Gabby walked beside him, brushing her hair behind her ear as she glanced around at the unfamiliar surroundings.

Just as they passed through the gate area, Glen looked over at her, his lips curving into a warm smile. “Welcome to Austin, Gabby.”

#Glen Powell #Glen Powell Fic #Glen Powell Fanfic #Glen Powell Fanfiction #Glen Powell Series #Glen Powell x OC #Glen Powell x Original Character

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raayllum · 1 year ago

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discovered that there is Zero miyana/karim fic on ao3?? i think. a crime. they're so good

#karim x miyana #this just makes me want to write 'blinded' even more #prompts #tdp #on the one hand im not shocked bc karim isn't super popular (but he should be. my pathetic lil meow meow)#since he's like a side character in the janaya plot and janaya is already less focused on fandom wise than the other mains #but Still #cringe fail prince priest baby girl

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ethereiling · 2 months ago

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im going to be so real i think im going to snap if i see one more person talking about how There Is No Objective Quality In Art because yes there is!! there arent strict rules about what objective quality is, theres no one size fits all metric, but high quality art is effective in evoking emotion and thought in ways that low quality art isnt. there are so many ways that people can choose to evoke certain feelings through art but the effectiveness of that Is a pretty solid means to determine quality in my experience

#avpswjy #i dunno man it just irritates me lmao #also something doesnt need to be perfect quality to be enjoyable.. youre allowed to like things that are mid or even outright bad #i just think its not only a good practice but actively enjoyable to figure out what artists are going for when they use certain elements #why do writers use certain words? certain sentence lengths? who is the pov from and why? what associations do they draw?#why does an artist use a complex or simple style? what colors do they use? where does light hit and what does it make you focus on?#if someones trying to write a serious horror story and it comes across comical its not good writing #if someones trying to draw a peaceful family scene and it comes across as ominous thats not good art #and again . it Is subjective but not in the same way as most ppl say it is #what people are going for varies! there is no single stylistic choice that is universally bad! but that doesnt mean tht quality doesnt exis #i have more confidence in the horror story i recently wrote than a lot of the work ive done in the past #specifically because i sent it to friends and their theories aligned with the overall vibe and themes i wanted people to come away with #sure some people will misunderstand it or dislike it but i think its pretty effective at what its meant to evoke #idk man. i think anti intellectualism has done a number on art and artistic critique as a whole #and i wish more people approached art (making or appreciating it) with intentionality and not a mindset of blind consumerism

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jrueships · 1 year ago

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tbh tho i think my art is fugly af LMFAO

#not in a '>w< eeeek! i wish i could drawww 🥺 i can only cobble such measle crap with my lowly peasant paws.. *unveils mona lisa*'#sense but like a my style makes me want to hurl whenever i look at it bcs it's a constant reminder that it can only be what i can make it be #and bcs it looks bad to me then that means i cant make things look good if u get my sense like #idk man 😭!! im just sick of being scribbly!! and not clean! i wanna ink my art! have crisp lines! dark lines!!#not have to put stupid darkening filters on everything bcs i cant color or shade so my art is just stuck with the blinding white background #well the frustration is more how i CAN color and shade.. i CAN ink my lines with a darker one #lets not excuse my laziness now cmon ted omg dumbass bitch #it's just that doing so makes me . crazy #my attention span like. crumbles when i try to add color or ink over lines bcs thats Such a commitment to me #i HATE leaving things unfinished when it seems so monumental #like unfinished sketches or prompts? fine. those are sketches. little prompts. even if u post it it's shit #but starting big things is a COMMITMENT.. with CONSEQUENCES ! ! i just want to avoid them ig #it's like im stuck between art being a fun lil past time and being a perfectionist actually so no. no it is not #but also i NEED to draw i NEED to write SOMETHING! SOMETHING!! then i realize the weight of things and purposefully hinder myself #then later hate myself for hindering even tho it felt so good and right in the beginning ORGHH or WHATEVER #idk one of my friends told me my style reminded them of the new tmnt movie (which has been praised yeah #for like beautiful ugliness tho) and like. i KNOW it's a compliment... but. why did it make me Feel 😭 like i wanted to rip my art 2 shreds #once i lined my art and my friend (an artist i admire) said smthin like 'omg finally! ted lined art! gorgeous!'#& i KNOW. I KNOW IT'S A COMPLIMENT. BUT WHY AM I THINKING LIKE. SO VIOLENT. NOT ABT THEM. BUT MY SHIT NOW #like UGHHH i just HATE feeling trapped and helpless when actually theres help available but im just DUM!! JUST LINE UR ART TED #art is like playing sport is like making good grades is like working well is like being a good friend is like being a good person #literally. just be GOOD.#it's all a performance to me ARGHARGH! I HATE THE JOKER! I HATE BEING CRINGE@! RAGGHH I HATE THIS SHIT #<- mfs when no basketball #mfw i cannot avoid enlightenment via the meaningless distractions i codepently craveRAGGHG!!!!!!1!

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wildwolf-fandoms · 2 months ago

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Negative Tumblr/RPC/personal trauma rant + screenshots of my og tags because I was too chicken shit to post them on my rp account

Also tw for bullying mention too

Bro I sometimes envy people with common triggers because many people usually don't have any problem tagging guns and racism and stuff.

And here I am being like "umm, here is a random ass word that I associate with my bullies, a random ass combination of `things` that no one ever thought of bringing up, and a random ass body part that has multiple different meanings and only effective when it's a noun" 😭No way in fucking hell i can expect people to tag them or "avoid talking about them when i'm around them" or whatever.

Also og tags goes brr:

#OOOH BOY I HOPE MY PARTNER WILL BE UNDERSTANDING ABOUT THEM #very anxious about posting this because the said writing partner is literally in my dms now :))))#anyways respect people's triggers even if it sounds `ridiculous` to you #people doesn't have to justify and tell their trauma to you in order for you to respect their triggers and discomfort #`but i call all of my besties w3irdos affectionately` and `but i don't see it as a negative word` shouldn't be your fucking defence #when someone confronts you about their discomfort about it.#worst part is that i was also a moderator in the said server where i got told this bs.#which meant that it was my DUTY to check every channel and make sure no fighting or bigotry was happening in the server #i just couldn't turn a blind eye upon seeing that word #i don't really remember why i didn't ask another mod to take over instead of keep watching the chat.#but i CLEARLY remember what I was said because it stuck to me very badly still to this day #haha also the irony of me wanting to post it as a warning to my rp partners...#than ducking out of posting there when it became more of an essay than a vent post LMAO #i don't really like using my rp blogs as my direct vent areas.#i do explore some of my issues and stuff with my muses. but i don't really like... sharing stuff. especially negative stuff there.#therefore; it goes here.#i'm sorry for every rp and writing partner that stumbled upon this mess 😭#just a heads up: i didn't wrote this to make you feel guilty or vague post about you. i'm just venting my feelings #if your brain is saying `maybe this is about me??` when we haven't interacted ooc for 3 hours. than its not about you. don't overthink it #it's just me thinking too hard about Stuff while listening Creature Feature #badger posts shit

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wine-and-madness · 5 months ago

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I still yearn.

I still long for things I have no access to, I still long for my god, I fear he is distant.

He is the god of mental health, too. He is the god of taking your meds. I know this.

I cannot help missing the all-consuming rush of emotions unbridled, mind spinning, vision tunneled, hands buzzing with glorious tension. Excitement, ecstacy, blinding rage, all intense, all burning.

We never talk about how it feels good. We are already judged enough as it is.

It's better this way, I know. It's better calm, feeling reasonable amounts at a time, not hurting myself, not hurting those around me.

I fear I have lost his madness with the rest.

It is better this way, I know.

Maybe now, I can find purely Dionysus, instead of the hateful creations of my own mind.

#dionysus #borderline personality disorder #actually bpd #im on welbutrin for my adhd and a very unexpected side effect was calming my emotions and making my dbt way more effective #ig therapy works better when you can focus and remember stuff lol #i used to get so hyper id literally be bouncing and so filled with rage my vision somehow did seem white and blinded #id also get fear so intense and hurt shame sadness so intense that it felt like the world was ending #actually fucking ending #it's not a fun thing #except that it is sometimes. the excitement especially #and bpd is already so stigmatized that even if others experience any of this id be shocked if they said so? idk #anyway one of the things ive read that stuck with me was about proving godly possession is a process of elimination #including going to mental health experts #AND your own personal religious leaders #so if i wanted to induce that intentionally i had to get treated first right? logically?#at the very least now it'll be way easier to tell if it's dionysus or just bpd #i felt called to write this so here it is

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goxjo · 4 months ago

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｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ﾟ. 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝 ﾟ･｡･ﾟft. gojo, choso, sukuna, toji

♡ warnings. no reader pronouns, fem anatomy! reader, technically hate fucking, reader is initially very pissed, he is too but he wants to make up, no curse au (choso + sukuna), everything is consensual. gojo cw: some reckless driving, semi-public sex, doggy, getting caught, exhibitionism. choso cw: reader is in a bunny lingerie costume, slight! pet play, suddenly popping a boner, v! fingering. sukuna cw: petty arguments, jealousy, v! fingering. toji cw: jealousy, implied size difference, kabedon!!!, cunnilingus, wall sex. 18+ only, MDNI

♡ a/n. idk if you can already tell by now - I usually make these whenever I have new banners / formats to try out. I really love that heart bubble thingy on the title lol + idk, arguments like these feel a little endearing sometimes. this was very fun to write. enjoy!

♡ links. GEN. MASTERLIST ┆ JJK MASTERLIST

[ ❤︎ ] GOJO SATORU

The car ride home tonight is silent for the most part. It’s your car, your hands on the steering wheel, and therefore your rules. Maybe you haven’t been looking at your speedometer but in case you haven’t noticed, your anger adds more pressure to your foot on the pedal, and you’re a few kilometers past the highway speed limit.

All this because of some petty argument and you barely even remember what it’s about. All you know is, it’s one that made you miss an exit, and it’s another 20 minutes before the next one.

“Baby, slow down.” He sighs with a tinge of worry and slight irritation in his voice. He’s not really keen on the idea of having to watch you flirt with an officer to get out of a speeding ticket. He’ll throw puppy dog eyes to the officer himself if he has to, but he’s putting a pin on that thought for now. There must be something that could remedy the situation (you) for now.

“Don’t talk to me,” you deadpan, lips pursing in your annoyance, eyes dead fixed on the road.

“Fine. Then, I won’t,” he hums, an idea suddenly popping up in his head. “I won’t talk to you. I’ll just…” He fiddles with the hems of your skirt, knuckles lightly stroking your plump and exposed skin.

“What the hell are you doing?” You shift in your seat, quickly taking a glance at your boyfriend.

“Not talking.” It starts with just his fingers, now it’s a full hand, and it’s squeezing and massaging your thigh, reaching higher and higher up till it’s a hair away from your clothed sex.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Satoru.” You gulp, and he doesn’t fail to notice your breath has shifted, taking deeper inhales and longer exhales the closer he gets to your panties.

And he knows it’s a dangerous game. But hey, at least you’re not in danger of getting a ticket anymore. He’s glad you’re distracted. One finger hooking on the waistband of your panties is enough to make your breath hitch. Watching you chew on your bottom lip puts a strain in his pants knowing you’re trying your hardest not to be the first to break. You’re so cute when you’re angry, focus never breaking when you reach the woodsy outskirts of your exit, and he wonders if you took the wrong turn.

“Why are we here—”

“You fucking idiot.” You’re fuming as you unbuckle your belt, making your way to the backseat.

“I fucking love you.”

….

He’s never seen you cum so fast before, never seen you more vocal, fingers raking into the leather of your back seat, not a care in the world how expensive it’s going to be to have it replaced. He should piss you off more if it means he’ll have you on all fours again in your car in the middle of the woods, begging and screaming for him to fuck you deeper and deeper a nearby town could mistake your cries for a mating call.

He finds a neat little discovery too when a light shines on your window, practically blinding you, and your insides coil around his cock he’s almost sure he was locked in knots. You’re so fucking hot when you’re embarrassed, unable to help the moans that escape your lips even when a cop knocks on your window.

[ ❤︎ ] KAMO CHOSO

“I already told you I’m sorry!”

You won’t budge, half-sulking-half pissed with your back turned to him on the bed, sitting on your folded legs. You refuse to talk to him too so he settles with hugging you from behind, bunny tail pressing against his crotch. You feel his fingers fidgeting against your stomach, clearly remorseful for what he did. Your boyfriend is the last person on earth who could forget about special dates, let alone an anniversary — or so you thought.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please forgive me.” And you want to forgive him. But you had already spent the last few weeks finding the best anniversary costume present, only to be met with questioning heart eyes at the bunny ears and frilly lingerie, wondering what’s the occasion.

“It’s fine, forget it. Just leave me alone.” You try to wriggle out of his hold, only grinding against him kn the process.

“Won’t let go till I know you’ll allow me to make up for it.”

“Stop, it’s done okay — wait, are you…” At first, you thought it was your puffy tail pressing on your ass but you realize that’s definitely not the case when the thing behind you tripled in size.

“Yeah.” He buries his face deeper in your hair, taking in the sweet smell of you despite your little tantrum. His thumb tries to graze your underboob, fiddling with the frilly wires, popping in and out of the garment, obviously trying to restrain himself. “Sorry, you’re just… so soft.”

“Bunny, I know you’re mad and you can tell me all about it.” His hand reaches for your clothed pussy, fingernails scratching your slit behind the fabric. He finally puts the garment aside, spreading your wet, puffy folds with his pointer and ring fingers before sliding his middle into your slippery hole. “Go on, I’m listening.”

[ ❤︎ ] RYOUMEN SUKUNA

“Don’t ignore me, you.”

“He’s my childhood friend! Just a friend, okay?! Why can’t you understand that?”

“He could be the dog of your sister-in-law’s neighbor, I don’t give a fuck. I don’t want you fucking talking to that guy anymore.”

“It doesn’t mean anything!”

“So? I don’t like how he looks at you — hey, don’t leave! Don’t get mad — c’mon!” He catches up with you when your pace quickens as you bolt through the door. Tattooed arms coming from behind you lock tightly around your waist, his face burrowing into your neck.

“Let me go!”

“Fuck no.” He’s still as a rock the first few seconds as you try to wriggle out of his hold. When you realize it’s futile, he begins to pepper kisses on your exposed shoulder, trailing kisses along your neck up to your temple, as if he’a getting off that easy.

“Ryo, stop!”

“Uh-uh.” He runs his nose across your ear before leaving breathy kisses on your lobe. He’s a fucking menace for knowing exactly what makes you weak in the knees and using that against you.

“If you think that’s going to work, I-I — ohh, fuck.” Your head cranes backwards, leaning on his hard chest when his hand slides down your pants. Heat rises to your cheeks in embarrassment when you realize he found you wet despite all this. Or maybe it’s because of this?

“I don’t know? Seems to be working.” Because it fucking is. And you hate that it is. But his hand — black fingernails grazing your clit sloppy, wetting it with your juices — it feels so hot against your pussy at this stupid moment. His free hand reaches for your tit underneath your shirt around the same time as when he started pumping digits into your hole.

You’re not getting out of this alive.

“You still gonna talk to him?”

“Who?”

[ ❤︎ ] FUSHIGURO TOJI

“I fuckin’ swear, I don’t know how that girl got my number.”

“Don’t care. Go away, Toji.” Standing and towering in front of you, he tries to block you in every which direction. He doesn’t budge. Sneaking past him isn’t an option either as those freakishly long arms could easily prevent you from going anywhere.

You didn’t mean to read his messages. But when an unknown number pops out of your boyfriend’s notifications with kissy emojis followed by a steamy shot of her backside, you can’t help but be… curious.

You’re not sure what to think. On the one hand, you know Toji would never cheat on you or lie to you about these things. On the other hand, you also just found out this isn’t the first time this girl has sent him anything — nor the first time anyone’s sent him anything in the whole duration of your relationship.

“Believe me. I ignore every single one of these text messages, I don’t know how they keep finding me!”

“Yeah, well you could’ve told me.” Toji sighs realizing only now that he should’ve. He didn’t think it mattered or that you would be this bothered when you found out. Clearly, he was wrong.

You take his pause as your cue to walk past him, but a big hand slams to the wall next to you, preventing you from walking any further. His hand slides higher as he leans closer to the wall, forcing you to back up and hide in his shadow.

His lips are a breath away, eyes staring at yours through his lashes. His free hand cups your chin, gently forcing you to listen to him carefully. “I never told you because I didn’t care about any of them.”

His hand reaches for the skirt of your dress, balling the fabric into his fist as he raises the fabric till your thighs are exposed. “Why would I care about any of them when I have you,” he slides his hand into your panties, stroking stripes along your wet slit, “and this pussy.”

You all but melt into his touch, pussy squirming underneath his hold. Toji slowly kneels to the floor, taking your panties with him before throwing them aside. He pushes your knees aside, staring right at you as his hot breath fans your exposed cunt. “This pussy. Always so fucking ready for me.”

His wet muscle parts your folds, licking heavenly stripes on your throbbing clit. You lean on the wall for dear life, one hand above your head, the other on your partner’s head, shoving him closer to your pussy as you ride his mouth.

“I’m changing my number, I promise.”

♡ reblogs & comments are appreciated ♡

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akimiiyo · 6 months ago

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-> JEALOUSY

��synopsis : genshin men when they’re jealous.

⌗characters : diluc, kaeya, albedo, zhongli, childe, baizhu, xiao, thoma, ayato, heizou, wanderer, kazuha, tighnari, cyno, alhaitham, kaveh, neuvillette, lyney, dainsleif, dottore, pantalone, capitano, pierro.

⌗cw : gn!reader, not proofread, lowercase intended, probably ooc.

he’s a gentleman, he doesn’t get jealous often because he knows for a fact that he has nothing to worry about. you’ve never done anything that made him feel as if he had to watch out and he’s certain that you never will. although he can still get annoyed at the sight of another man flirting with you. it was his insisting even after you turned him down that angered him the most. nonetheless, he doesn’t let such people interfere with his composure. he’ll act mature and take you somewhere else once he sees that the man has no intentions of leaving you alone. as soon as you both get a moment alone together, however, he won’t hesitate to plant a few more kisses than usual. just in case, y’know?

diluc, zhongli, alhaitham, neuvillette, dainsleif, capitano.

he won’t admit it, but he gets jealous often. he doesn’t want to confront you about it because he believes it’s embarrassing and silly to feel that way. i mean, you’re his and he’s yours. you love him so much, there’s no need to worry, right? yet, he still can’t help but fume at the sight of strangers complimenting you. he can’t blame them, but he still would rather for people to be blind if that meant that they’d leave you alone. he’s aware of how unfair that would be, so he just stays quiet, either sulking or glaring at those people as you offer them a kind smile until you’re both alone where he’ll be needing your utmost attention.

xiao, albedo, thoma, kazuha, kaveh, baizhu.

he’s jealous and he’ll show it. hit on his partner? right in front of him? absolutely not. he might try to keep his calm at first, but as time passes and this scumbag is still around, he won’t hold back. not to worry, he won’t do anything extreme (unless he’s forced to do so), he just wants to make things clear to this guy. he’ll keep it simple at first, simply making subtle comments until he actually starts going straight to the point. after a while, he’ll take your arm and walk away with you, now being angrier than before. the way that guy was talking to him, but especially you, has him furious. be prepared to listen to his angry rant about that random dude. be also prepared to shut him up, you know how.

kaeya, childe, heizou, tighnari, cyno, wanderer, lyney.

this guy almost sees you as his property, his jealousy is unmatched. he won’t take anything lightly. if you’re trying to make advantages on his partner, then you’re asking for it. simple as that! he won’t let anyone think they might have a chance with you because you’re destined to be with him and only him. so obviously, he must make it clear to everybody to not even try. if someone is bold enough though, he’ll just stand beside you, piercing through this man’s soul with his icy gaze. thankfully, nothing ever escalated from that. not that he wouldn’t be capable of doing that, these poor souls simply knew better than to get against someone of that status and reputation.

ayato, dottore, pantalone, pierro.

⌗a/n : im not really proud of this, i might edit it once i have time. it’s 4am and i was supposed to be studying, but i ended up writing this instead. talk about procrastination 😪 let me know if i made any mistakes pls

want to read more? take a look at my masterlist!

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wonustars · 5 days ago

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In Front of Me (1)

cause i was blind to see that you were right in front of me ₊˚

⊹ pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader ⊹ genre: bestfriends to (?), angst, smut (R: 18+ mdni) ⊹ wordcount: 40.6k (part 1) (part 2: here)

⊹ summary: jeon wonwoo has spent most of his adolesence and early adult hood unable to understand why he can't seem to stay in a relationship for more than a few months. as his best friend, you allowed him to vent about his worries without judgment. so what if you're in love with him? your friendship with wonwoo meant more to you than having your feelings reciprocated. that is until you hit your breaking point, while wonwoo finally realizes what has been in front of him this whole time.

⊹ tags: non-idol!au, uni!au, unrequited love (for the most part), pining, toxic!wonwoo, toxic!reader, both in wonwoo and readers pov, questionable protagonists, mentions of other svt members, happy ending (?), emotionally constipated characters (wonwoo), flashbacks, slight seokmin x reader, a lot of emotions thrown everywhere. (content warnings under the cut)

⊹ note: this story was meant to be posted for wonwoos bday, but if you know anything about me by now, i never really stick to my self made deadlines lol. thank you to my cutieful, big brained beta readers: ♡ @junkissed @chocosvt and @sunniques ♡ everyone in @svthub and @highvern and @gyuswhore who helped me w this fic as well ! if u look closely this is pretty much just a sugar coated version of real life events lol... anyways i hope u enjoy and lmk what u think thru the replies and reblogs :) !

⊹ masterlist, fic playlist.

⊹ smut tags: no smut in this part :p ⊹ warnings: alcohol, reader is downbad for wonwoo, stalking, slut-shaming, evasions of privacy, if i missed anything lmk! cuz ik i did i just can't think of what hehe :p

⊹ what i would like to note about this story before you read it: you're not meant to like these characters (for most of the story at least lol), they are flawed in many ways, thats the whole point of this story tbh. tmi--but this story is pretty much my free therapy lol. and i love a messy plot! wonwoo and reader are just two normal people in this story and i wanted to write something a little more raw than i'm used to. so just take what i say with a grain of salt before reading ♡ i still want you to enjoy this story because i poured my soul into it. so thank you for your support and kind asks and comments about the teaser!

prologue.

Despite your age, you’ve never been in a serious relationship. There was always something holding you back, or rather, someone.

In all the years you’ve known Wonwoo, you’ve always thought maybe one day, he would look at you in a different light. Hoping that he could reciprocate the feelings you’ve harboured for him since the eleventh grade.

He was the one who constantly moved out of relationships. You couldn’t even count the amount of late-night calls where he asked you what his “next step” should be. The doting best friend that you are, you’d gladly stay up all night trying to help him fix his girl problems.

“I just, I don’t have feelings for her anymore. Is that wrong?” he asked you over the phone.

Tossing and turning in your bed you let out a deep sigh. One thing is always guaranteed with Wonwoo: in a relationship, he loses feelings quickly. No matter how much he likes the girl, no matter how obsessed or possessive he feels for them at the beginning of it all, it diminishes by the time the six-month mark hits.

Although he may be a great friend to you, relationships were never his strong suit.

“It’s not wrong to fall out of love, but how many times are you going to break up with someone before you decide to stay?” you ask him, and he pauses to think.

“I don’t know, but I can’t stay, that would make things worse,” he sighs. “It’s better to just stop this whole thing now.”

“I agree, but are you sure?” you continue to ask him the same questions you’ve been asking since you were sixteen.

“I’m sure,” he replies with a heavy sigh.

“Okay, then goodnight. It’s almost one in the morning,” you try to cut the call, but he continues to speak.

“I’m not the bad guy, right?” he asks you for reassurance.

“No, you’re just human Wonwoo. There’s nothing wrong with losing feelings for someone,” you affirmed.

“Alright, thank you, good night and sweet dreams,” he whispers listlessly.

“Good night, Wonwoo.”

Your phone beeps indicating that he’s hung up and you can feel the heartstrings pull inside your chest. How many times will it take for Wonwoo to find someone he actually wants to be with? And why is it never you?

act one, favorite crime.

chapter one.

“Wait, what? You and Wonwoo aren’t dating?” Seungcheol asks you, forcing you into the hot seat.

The rest of your friend group is boring holes into your face as they all sit around Jeonghan’s living room. The blood rises in your cheeks, but you shake your head anyway.

It feels like every time you’re with your friends, they ask you the same set of questions. Constantly wondering why you and Wonwoo haven’t thought about dating, or why you two haven’t decided to take the chance and just be together.

“You guys need to stop asking that. A guy can befriend someone of the opposite gender,” Wonwoo defends the two of you.

“You’re telling me in all the years you’ve known her, you haven’t developed feelings for her once?” Cheol continues to instigate, and your eyes go wide.

Looking over at Wonwoo, you anxiously wait for his answer, your chest blooming with hope, only for those buds to be washed away in a millisecond.

“No, c’mon, we’re just friends. That’s it, right?” Wonwoo turns to you, trying to get you to back him up.

Your mouth runs dry as he stares at you, his eyebrows rising in anticipation.

“U-uh yeah, Wonwoo’s right, we’re just friends,” you blurt out, not being able to handle all the expectant eyes on you all at once.

“See? Now can you all just get off our backs?” he chastises.

The chatter starts up again, moving past the topic of you and Wonwoo’s friendship. But you sit there, with your heart crushed in your hands, lifeless and shrivelled. Like his words and actions had the power to tear the life out of you. The worst part was that he did all this without knowing. He’s completely oblivious to your feelings, and you only have yourself to blame.

You understand your relationship with Wonwoo is different from most people’s, but at the same time, it should be normal for a girl and a guy to just be friends. And at least you respect Wonwoo’s feelings, and you also respect that whenever he’s dating someone the dynamic between you two shifts.

He becomes more detached when he’s in a relationship, and you’re okay with that. His priorities change and you’re okay with that. Despite your feelings for him, you know that you can’t force him to feel the same way. And you should be okay with that.

You’ve never tried to get in the way of his love life, or purposefully give him bad advice to ruin what he has with someone else. Not since you were seventeen, and at that time in your life your frontal lobe was a measly speck of dust, but it's different now. Now, your morals don’t change just because you love him, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less to see the person you’re in love with, fall in love with someone else.

two.

“Hey, you okay?” Seokmin approaches you, and you turn your head, acknowledging his presence.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m alright,” you mutter, but you know you don’t look that way.

Seokmin has known you since high school and has seen you through everything, probably more than Wonwoo. He knows when you’re not feeling well. A sympathetic permanent on his lips as he continues to observe you play with the food on your plate, pushing around the food aimlessly but never taking a bite.

The sounds of people conversing throughout the dining hall never die down. But luckily, the commotion keeps your thoughts of Wonwoo at bay, or at least that’s what you like to think. But your heart can’t seem to let go of that moment from the other day. Having Seungcheol confirm that Wonwoo has never felt anything romantically for you was like a stab in the stomach, and him getting you to back up his words was just him twisting the knife.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? You can tell me,” he sighs, pushing the hair covering your face and placing it behind your ear.

You can feel the tears start to pool, but you try your damndest not to let them spill—not like this, not in front of so many people.

“It was just something Wonwoo said when we were all at Hannie’s house,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact with your friend.

“What did he say?”

“That he’s never liked me before,” you sigh, feeling a tear slip from your eye.

Cursing yourself in your head, you hate how much your feelings for him affect you. You hate how he doesn’t have to even be in front of you, yet he can still cause your emotions to fluctuate.

“It’s alright,” he coos, pulling you into his strong arms.

It felt weird, to hug Seokmin so tightly in the middle of your university’s dining hall. But you’re thankful for how aware he is, how he actually cares about your feelings. You felt melodramatic sitting there crying in the fucking dining hall of all places, but you couldn’t help but let your tears flow as Seokmin comforts you with his soft voice.

“You deserve more than this, I hope you know that,” he whispers in your ear.

three.

Over the next few days, the words Seokmin had whispered to you kept replaying in your head. You did deserve better and looking at all of Wonwoo’s past relationships is the perfect example. He’s not exactly the ideal boyfriend, so why did you even have feelings for him in the first place?

You could feel a migraine coming on from how hard you were thinking, but Wonwoo still seems to be the only person you can’t let go of. No matter how many times you’ve tried.

A knock on your door brings you out of your thoughts. It was late, and you don’t remember anyone messaging you saying that they were going to come over, but you open the door anyway.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t text,” Wonwoo moves past you, takes his shoes off, and plops on your couch.

“It’s okay, what’s up?” you move to sit beside him.

“I broke up with her,” He says, shrugging.

Taken aback by his nonchalance, your eyes widen. He seems calm for someone who has just broken up with his girlfriend. But you try not to think too hard about it, or you might just have to take another Advil to remedy your already growing headache.

“Well, how did it go?” you ask with a bit of apprehension.

Knowing Wonwoo, you knew that he probably just dumped her over the phone or something. He’s never been bothered to really break up with someone.

You have all these examples of why he would probably be the worst boyfriend ever, yet your heart still belongs to him. It’s pitiful, to say the least, people probably would think that you’re a masochist because you subject yourself to staying by his side when he has feelings for another.

“She was crying, but at least it’s over now,” Wonwoo informs you as he eats the snacks you had left on your coffee table.

“Oh.” You could feel the guilt start to seep into your veins.

It never felt good to hear Wonwoo talk about his breakups, but you’re not sure how to react. There’s a part of you that’s happy to know that he’s single again, but the majority of you pities the girl who had just gotten her heart broken.

Wonwoo continues to munch on the snacks left on your table while your mind tries to process the information you’ve been given. Hearing him talk so casually about his breakup leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you decide to switch topics instead of asking any more questions.

“Are you still going to Seokmin’s thing this weekend, though?” you ask him, trying to fill the air with something to drown out your rapid heartbeats.

He shrugs his shoulders, “If I feel like it. Are you?”

The bottom of your stomach tightens. You were hoping that he would go, even looking forward to it. Is that pathetic? To want to see him everywhere you go? Maybe you were pathetic to the point where you only felt like hanging out with your friends if he was there.

“I mean, I don’t have a ride so…” you trail off, pretending to pay attention to whatever was playing on the T.V. screen.

“I’ll go since you’re going, that way you have a ride,” he mumbles, adjusting his posture to lean back on your couch.

He sighs as he sinks into the plush cushions, spreading his legs while he puts his arms up. You’re very aware of his proximity, and you try not to let it show. But the smell of his cologne invades your senses, knocking the breath out of your chest.

Wonwoo’s arm circles your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and forcing your head to rest delicately on his broad shoulder. Exhaling, you let yourself enjoy his way of showing affection. Although to him it means nothing, and to you, quite literally everything.

“Thank you for agreeing to go to Seokmin’s so I have a ride,” you whisper but still avoid eye contact so he doesn’t notice your flustered expression.

“Thank you for letting me barge in here just so I can talk about my breakup,” he whispers back, kissing the top of your head.

“Of course, what are best friends for?”

four.

Most people fall in love gradually, slowly growing feelings for the person before they can even call it love. Like the way the seasons steadily turned from winter to spring. Green grass peeking from underneath the melting snow, or flowers gently blooming and unravelling their new set of stems and petals. For you, it was different.

Falling in love with Wonwoo wasn’t gradual at all.

If anything, falling in love with Wonwoo felt like a snowstorm in the middle of a sunny day. Your affection for him grew rapidly, and before you knew it, your mind was clouded with him and him only. It became hard to stay rational as if you were driving down a snow-filled road without any control over the steering wheel. Swerving into different lanes, your brakes malfunction, making it hard to bring your car to a full stop. Falling in love with Wonwoo was not gradual or easy.

When you met him on the first day of your junior year of high school, your sixteen-year-old brain couldn’t fully comprehend your crush on him. He was the shy, scrawny new kid in your class, and no one paid mind to him except you. But that didn’t stop you from liking him. Despite his interest in collecting pokémon cards and his crooked glasses that were too big for his face, you were in love.

You were like two peas in a pod that whole year, and the only time you and Wonwoo spent time apart was when he had to leave during summer break to visit family in Korea.

When he returned for your senior year, you could barely recognize him. Suddenly the nerdy Wonwoo you knew was gone. His glasses complimented his face, his hair was styled differently, and most of all, he got hot. A lot of your classmates must’ve seemed to agree because now your best friend and the man you’re in love with gained attention from people who didn’t even bat an eyelash at him last year.

It annoyed you to see all these people suddenly interested in him. You were angry that just because he grew a few inches and learned to do his hair didn’t mean he was that much different from how he was last year.

Even though Wonwoo was in a relationship, he still stayed true to your friendship. He still hung out with you, ate lunch with you, you even came over on weekends to have dinner with his family. Day by day, your love for him strengthened, and you ignored that his attention had been divided between you and his girlfriend at the time.

When their relationship hit three months, it seemed your friendship had come to an abrupt halt. He didn’t invite you for dinner as often, you two didn’t talk on the phone every other night. He started to invest more of his time into her until he decided she wasn’t worth his energy anymore. Then the calls would come, his contact name flashing across your phone screen to ask you for advice.

“I feel like I need to break up with Haein,” his deep voice flowed through your phone speaker. A sigh left his lips as he faced the truth.

Haein was Wonwoo’s first girlfriend. She was nice, almost too nice. Wonwoo definitely had a type for girls with a bubbly personality. Ones that were effortlessly beautiful, reminiscent of a freshly made porcelain doll. That was Haein to you, unblemished in every way possible. Everything that you weren’t.

You couldn’t bring yourself to hate her. She was too nice to hate, but your younger self was so angry at how much of Wonwoo's time she took up that you envied her. Seokmin once jokingly mentioned that you looked especially green when she was around, and you remember how quickly you checked your appearance on the nearest reflective surface because of what he had said in passing. You remember vividly how nervous his words made you, was it that obvious?

Wonwoo’s first time calling you about his breakup plans was a delightful surprise, and you were too in shock to sputter out a proper response.

“Oh. Why?” was all you could say, still stunned that after a week of no contact, this was the first thing he said.

“‘Dunno, I just don’t like her anymore,” he admitted effortlessly.

You didn’t know how to respond. Your heart was screaming at you to encourage him to break up with his girlfriend at the time, while your brain was telling you to think logically.

“Well, if that’s what you think is right,” you mumbled, trying to hide the fact that you felt a sense of relief at Wonwoo potentially being single again.

Others may have tried to rationalize with Wonwoo, but you didn’t care. You wanted your friendship with him to turn back to normal. Your adolescent brain ignored that it was wrong to encourage him, as long as he was fully yours again.

History repeated itself over and over, and the older you got, you learnt to not be so selfish with his attention. Mostly out of guilt for the person he was going to break up with, but also because you didn’t want Wonwoo to realize your true feelings.

Although being in love with Wonwoo was brutal, you constantly wished that things were different between you two, but they weren’t. He’s never seen you as more than a friend, and as your friendship with him progressed, you had begun to learn to mask your romantic feelings for platonic ones.

five.

By the time you entered university, you had mastered the art of pretending. As if your feelings for Wonwoo didn’t exist. You are quite meticulous in ensuring that he never realizes that you are profoundly in love with him. The mere thought of him finding out how you truly felt frightened you.

You’ve already envisioned countless scenarios on how it could go. The idea of being rejected by the one you love most. It would change everything about your friendship with him. The look of pity in his eyes, the apologies that would spill out of his mouth. You can't bear even the thought of rejection. Not from him.

Two voices are constantly at war inside your mind. Your brain, acting as the voice of reason, constantly reminds you that it’s better to preserve your friendship. To keep the dynamic you’ve always had with Wonwoo guarded where it could last, thrive. While your heart persuaded you with deluded, fake scenarios.

‘What if he likes you back?’

‘You never know until you try.’

‘Take the risk or lose the chance.’

What if.

Like a siren to a sailor, your heart sang with deep imagery. Filling your thoughts with illusions of you and Wonwoo finally together. But your mind doesn’t let you go without a fight. It knows that beyond the deep waters where your siren-voiced heart lies is nothing but a bottomless pit.

The possibilities are endless, and you’d rather stay safely grounded in your boat of rationality.

A notification brings you out of your thoughts. Although you already knew that it was Wonwoo, you scramble to pick up your phone. There’s excitement laced in your veins as you look down at the screen.

7:06 p.m. [wons <3]: be there in 5.

There was no reason for you to be so ecstatic but you couldn’t help it. He had already texted you prior, notifying you that he was leaving his place to come pick you up, and yet every time your phone buzzes, you still hope that it’s something completely different. But that was your heart talking; you knew that it wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary.

Everyone had planned to meet at Seokmin’s place today, just to have one last celebration before midterms began again. You had happily agreed, enthusiastic that you could spend more time with Wonwoo, although it wouldn’t be a one-on-one thing. You were more than elated to see him while also being able to hang out with the rest of your friends.

Throwing your phone back on the bed, you change into an outfit that is both cute and comfortable. There wasn’t a reason to dress up when the vibe at Seokmin’s was just going to be sitting around his living room, drinking cocktails and eating pizza.

Wonwoo texts you once more to let you know he’s outside, causing you to race down to meet him. A lump in your throat arises, as he comes into your field of vision, appreciating how breathtakingly handsome he is.

The chilled breeze brushes through the strands of his hair, glasses perched on his tall nose. He looked amazing, just like he always had, but you never get bored of admiring him. Even if it’s just from afar.

“Hi! Sorry if I kept you waiting,” your voice resounds into the night.

“It's never a problem if it’s you,” he chuckles as you dawdle over to the passenger side of his car.

Trying not to read too deep into his words, you snort at his cheesy line instead of giving a response. Watching Wonwoo move to the side as he opens the car door for you. His actions make you blush, and you know you’ll think about it for the rest of the night.

“Are you ready to go?” he asks, smiling at you.

The ride to Seokmin’s house is fairly quiet, the sounds of music filling the silence instead. Your thoughts are overflowing with scenarios once again, wondering how different the car ride would be if you and Wonwoo were in a relationship. His fingers would probably be laced with yours, or rubbing soothingly against your thigh while his other hand gripped the steering wheel. Planting kisses on your cheeks at every red light. It seemed like heaven on the other side. But you knew reality would crush your delusions soon enough.

…

The clock on Seokmin’s pale white wall is nearing midnight and you don’t want to be here anymore. Not when the only thing you could focus on was Wonwoo flirting with a girl whose name you didn’t catch. She’s Joshua’s childhood friend and he only brought her along because she’s visiting from out of town. Whoever she was, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to you was the fact that she was able to bring out Wonwoo’s deep laugh. The kind of laugh that only befalls upon your ears when he finds something genuinely funny.

The ugly swirl of jealousy sits in the pit of your stomach and you couldn't help but scoff at your wretched situation. It made you sick watching them, and you could throw up any minute now. At this point, you weren’t sure who to envy, Wonwoo or the girl he was flirting with. You find it unfair that he doesn’t realize how greatly he can impact your feelings.

Just a few hours ago, you were in utter bliss. Sitting in the front seat of his car, listening to the music softly playing on the ride to Seokmin’s apartment. Making stupid jokes and pointing out the random sights that you had seen while driving down the bustling city streets. You envy how easy it is for Wonwoo to make all those feelings of delight vanish. And he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t know what he’s doing to you, and that’s what hurts the most.

“You doing okay?” Seokmin comes up to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, squeezing it affectionately.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah I’m okay,” you chuckle, but there’s nothing humorous about your laugh at all.

His eyes soften, he knows that you’re not okay. Seokmin always knew. After all these years, he can tell when you’re trying to save face. There’s a lump in your throat, and if you didn’t have a drink to sip on to distract you, you probably would’ve gone to the bathroom to cry.

“You wanna talk in my room?” he offers, and you’re grateful.

Seokmin knew he had to get you somewhere other than the living room. You were practically torturing yourself, sitting on the couch and watching Wonwoo talk to everyone but you.

Instead of agreeing vocally, you nod your head before standing up to follow Seokmin to his room. The door shuts softly, muffling the sounds of laughter and allowing your uneasiness to finally subside.

As you sit on Seokmin’s bed, you feel the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks. It feels pathetic, crying over something so trivial. Why does it have to be you who feels this way? Why can’t you just be a normal friend and see Wonwoo in a platonic light? The whole world could turn upside and he’d be the first person you search for.

Everything just seemed so unfair, how could you possibly be happy if your feelings for Wonwoo were constantly in the way of it all? It’s tiring, worrying about him, yearning for him. You could do so many other things with your time, and when you look toward the future, you know that you’ll regret how much of your life you wasted loving someone who doesn’t love you back.

“It’s okay, just let it out,” Seokmin whispers in your ear, embracing you in a tight hug.

Crying felt good. You rarely cry over your situation despite how upsetting it is. For the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to finally indulge in your sadness and let go of everything you were too afraid to say or feel.

“I know it sucks right now, but honestly, it might be time to get over him,” Seokmin continues to comfort you while trying to help you face the reality of your situation. “You’re so hurt, and it’s taking a toll on you. Please, I can’t bear to see you so sad.”

His words hit you hard because you know it's true. But all you can do is apologize. Saying sorry for feeling this way, even though it’s not your fault, you cannot control your feelings, you still apologize. To Seokmin, to your friends, but also yourself.

“I-I’m sorry,” you hiccup, tears staining Seokmin’s white shirt.

“Why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong,” he mutters, his large hand patting your head, trying to soothe your fit of emotions.

“Because, if I was normal, you wouldn’t have to worry about me, about why I’m always upset, you and the others, my feelings are burdening all of you,” you continue to weep softly in his arms, gripping onto his shoulders as his hands encircle your waist.

“Hey, look at me–” he grabs your face, gentle as a mouse, rubbing away the tears from your cheeks. “You are not a burden. We care, that’s why we worry, and I just want to be there for you.”

“Thank you, Seokmin. I’m so happy that I have someone like you in my life,” you pull him into a hug again, knocking the air out of his chest, but he’s still somehow able to hug you even tighter.

Seokmin is like your favourite childhood blanket, keeping you warm and away from everything that could possibly hurt you. He’s always willing to hear you rant about things that you know you could never tell Wonwoo.

“I’m so tired, I’m tired of feeling like this,” you admit to him.

Running his hands through your hair, he gives you a reassuring smile.

“Maybe it’s time to distance yourself from him a bit, you two have been glued to the hip for so long. Maybe that distance can help organize your feelings better,” he mutters, catching the stray tears that pool at your chin, and wiping them away for you.

“I want to feel better,” you agree with him, still trying to recover from how hard you were sobbing into his chest.

“I care about you, okay? We all do. Wonwoo cares about you, too, but there’s a point where you’ll have to be okay with whatever outcome happens if you decide to tell him how you feel. Or you just have to find a way to get over him,” he speaks softly, trying not to crush your heart with reality, but you know he’s right. “In the Future, you will thank yourself for making whatever decision you have to make, but trust me, holding all these feelings in won’t do you any good.” He ends his pep talk there, and you sigh, trying to process everything he said.

“Thank you, Minnie, I’m so thankful I have you,” you sniffled.

“And I you.”

…

Seokmin explained to Soonyoung and Jihoon that you needed to go home after your talk in his bedroom. They were more than happy to take you along with them before heading back to their place, not wanting to force you into a car with Wonwoo at the end of the night.

“Of course, it’s really no trouble at all,” Soonyoung reassures you after you had asked about a million times if it was okay to ride home with them.

The car ride is drastically different from the one you had taken on the way to Seokmin’s, Soonyoung being the number one reason why. He’s not the best at reading the room, although Jihoon is constantly telling him to shut up. He knows you are upset over something, but Soonyoung’s way of cheering you up is getting you to laugh. While Jihoon believed that you may want a more peaceful environment after everything that happened.

As Jihoon drove, Soonyoung sang along with the lyrics of the current song playing. Loud enough for anyone outside the car to hear him. You could tell he was a bit tipsy after the few beers he had earlier, but you didn’t mind the noise. Jihoon begged to differ.

“Soon, can you tone it down? Please. People are looking at us,” Jihoon grumbles, trying to focus on the road ahead.

“But you love it when I sing,” Soonyoung whines, and you can’t help but laugh.

“I do, but our friend has had a long night,” Jihoon counters.

Soonyoung turns to face you from the passenger seat. “If you want me to be quiet, I will.”

“No, it’s okay, I’m actually enjoying it, thank you very much,” you giggle, and that was all the confirmation he needed, going back to his antics.

Jihoon groans as Soonyoung practically breaks out into full song and dance, causing you to sing along with him. This distraction from all the conflicting thoughts gives you a refuge from the war inside your mind.

The whole way back to your place was filled with singing and laughter, allowing you to finally feel at ease for once. Albeit Jihoon pretended to act annoyed the whole time, you knew he secretly loved how Soonyoung tried to bring the mood back up to help you.

Once you got home, you thanked the two before bidding them farewell. Apprehension flowed throughout you, and you didn't want to be alone with your thoughts after being around someone as cheerful as Soonyoung. But you didn’t know where else to go or what else to do.

Laying in your bed, you think about how today went from beginning to end, and you’re scared of what will happen in the future. Sighing to yourself, you allow yourself to at least get some rest instead of staying up all night thinking about the possibilities of tomorrow. Turning your phone on "do not disturb," the stillness in your apartment lulls you to sleep.

1:09 a.m. [wons <3]: seokmin said u went home early? u ok?

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

chapter one.

Wonwoo’s ride home was sombre, yet desolate. Your absence from his passenger seat irked him. Street lights whisk by his vision in a blur, but he’s too lost in his thoughts as he drives on autopilot, wondering why you went home so early. You didn’t even say goodbye. It’s the first time you went home from Seokmin’s place without him.

By the time he got home, his curiosity had started to claw at him, but he didn’t want to be irrational and assume the worst. So he texted you, hoping that there would be an explanation awaiting him in the morning.

Not a single notification from you came that very next morning. No matter how many times his phone went off, no matter how many notifications popped up from his screen. None of them were you. Morning turned to afternoon, and afternoon slowly turned into night. Still nothing.

He feels dejected. Everything seemed to be going okay just last night. That was until you abruptly left without telling him you were going home. What changed? Why did it feel like there was a shift between you two?

Rejection is foreign to Wonwoo. Most times, it’s him that’s doing the rejecting. He was the one to always initiate the breakup and lose feelings first; every decision he made was made by him. He has no control over whether you’re going to text him back or not, and to put it simply, he can’t stand that feeling.

Wonwoo hates not being in control. Whether that be his future, his relationships, and especially his feelings. At least that’s what he forces himself to believe. That it’s not fair of you to ignore him when he’s worried about you, because he’s your best friend. You should answer him when he texts you. When he calls you, and especially when he shows up at your door, seeking your comfort. In his mind, that is what he believes the foundation of your friendship is. To comfort each other, just like it always has been.

Sure, maybe Wonwoo is entitled, perhaps he’s conceited and selfish, but he doesn’t care. Because in his mind, you’re his best friend. There was no way in hell that you were ignoring him. His ego doesn’t even consider it a possibility. You were busy, that’s it. That has to be it.

…

Less than forty-eight hours in, Wonwoo couldn’t stop himself from texting you once more. Nimble fingers practically itching to open your contact to update you about the most mundane things. Maybe if he pretended that this moment of silence was perfectly normal, then maybe you would eventually end up answering him.

12:36 p.m [wons <3]: class just finished. lunch at our usual place?

Nothing. Not even a thumb’s up reaction. Wonwoo had become antsy, guilt and slight annoyance gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Where the hell are you? What are you doing that’s so important that you couldn’t even open his message let alone read them?

1:27 p.m. [wons <3]: this random girl asked for my number after class lol. weird right? i didn’t give it to her though 😁

Cursing at himself, he regrets pressing the send button on that text. Double texting you is already out of the norm for him, but triple texting? He can’t believe how desperate he looks right now. He wishes he could bring himself to unsend it, but he just hopes it’ll be the text that finally gets you to respond.

2:10 p.m. [wons <3]: saw a bunny running thru the oval today u should’ve seen it! reminded me of u. [1 photo attachment]

Absolute radio silence from your end. Wonwoo is starting to think that you had him blocked, but his messages are still delivering. Unsure of what’s worse, you ignoring him or blocking his number, Wonwoo still tries his best to remain calm.

4:00 p.m. [wons <3]: im about to head home soon. r u riding w me today?

The sight of you getting into Seokmin’s car made Wonwoo scoff. Since when did you start getting rides home from Seokmin? And why was he the one opening the door for you? Buckling your seatbelt instead of his own? Wonwoo is completely dumbfounded at what he has witnessed.

4:30 p.m. [wons <3]: saw u get into seokmin’s car, lmk if u need a ride tmrw.

Seeing you laugh and smile while walking to the student parking lot with Seokmin, of all people, solidified the fact that you are actively ignoring his texts. And he just can’t stand the thought of it. How dare he be ignored? Especially by his best friend, the one person who had always responded to him, no matter the time or how busy you were, you always texted him back.

Wonwoo initially thought that even if the world ended, you would be there within arms reach, enough to hold you close, where he could keep you safe. You were predictable in that sense. But if the world decided to burst into flames, or swallow itself whole tomorrow, he’s unsure if you would be there right next to him by the time he woke up.

two, wonwoo’s summer before senior year.

The school year flew by with the speed of light. And before Wonwoo knew it, he was home back in Korea for the summer. The dreaded fifteen-hour plane ride over was excruciating. There was an ache in his lower back, and his knees felt like they were being struck by a hammer with every step he took. But at least the worst part was over.

Sixteen-year-old Wonwoo was quite naive, thinking that he’d be welcomed into his home country with loving arms. That hadn’t been the case at all, and for the two months that he spent in Changwon, he couldn’t help but count the days till he could come back home. Where you had been patiently waiting for him.

He despised being away from you, and he had yearned for you every moment he was gone. With you by his side, Wonwoo had finally understood the true meaning of solace, a peace of mind that couldn’t be replicated. Not even the fresh air that breezed through his fingers or the scent of the salty water misting its way onto the shore of his hometown could outweigh the feeling of tranquillity that he got when he was with you.

Every year that Wonwoo was dragged back to Korea by his parents was excruciating. Especially because he had a certain distaste for his relatives. Maybe it was disrespectful to loathe them the way he did, but he couldn’t care less. Their scathing comments would flow out of their mouths just to pierce daggers of judgement into his back. To insult Wonwoo was second nature to his aunts, and he couldn’t do much but sit back and listen.

Much to his dismay, his parents hadn’t even bothered to book an Airbnb for their stay, informing him and his brother that they would be staying with his aunt. He couldn’t stand his aunt Seo-Ah in particular, and he swore the feeling was mutual. Unsure of why he had to withstand her crude remarks in front of his family without much protest, he forced himself not to dish out rude rebuttals to everything she had to say.

There was a time when Wonwoo tried to reason with himself on why his aunt was filled with so much bitterness, but he gave up on that long ago. He was about to be seventeen now, and he couldn’t bring himself to empathize with the older lady anymore.

“Wonwoo! You’re all grown up now, and I can’t believe it,” Seo-Ah forced him into a bone-crushing hug as he tried his best not to push her off of him. She pulled back to take a closer look at him and he could already see the scrutinizing gleam in her eyes, “You know, you’re still so skinny for your age. Do your parents not feed you enough?”

Wonwoo wanted to scoff at her, but he kept a neutral expression.

“No they do, I don’t know maybe it’s my fast metabolism or something,” he refuted her claims. He couldn’t wait to get out of her sight.

“You know, maybe you should start going to the gym, get some muscle on you or something,” she patted his lanky arm and laughed that dreadful laugh. The ones that have no real humour behind it, just to cover up the obvious dig she took at his appearance.

“Yeah maybe,” he dismisses her to head into the house. Setting his luggage down to check whether or not you’ve texted him yet.

It was about five in the evening in Changwon, but he knew you wouldn’t be asleep. Faintly recalling how you were planning to stay up late every night to watch BuzzFeed unsolved videos, or until your mom yelled at you to go to bed.

[4:15 p.m. kst] [you: i stayed up all night watching buzzfeed unsolved] [you: im going crazy i keep getting paranoid to the point i’ve turned all my mirrors backwards] [you: hope ur flight was ok tho!!! 🫶]

He chuckled to himself, remembering your wide eyes and elaborate plan to sneak snacks into your room in the early hours of the morning behind your parents’ backs. Wonwoo missed you, and your stupid obsession with horror podcasts and YouTube shows. He missed the way your smile would shine so bright as you talked about all the haunted places the hosts would visit.

Wonwoo did not care for horror or anything scary, but if you were to ask him to stay up all night on Facetime binge-watching your little Buzzfeed videos, he would do so in a heartbeat.

Two days down, about another 89 to go, Wonwoo thought to himself as he looked through your messages with him. You had already spammed the chat mercilessly about your first two days of summer break, and your intricate mission to stay up without accidentally falling asleep in the middle of it all.

[6:00 p.m. kst] [1 photo attachment] [you: currently trying to sneak snacks into my room without my mom knowing] [you: u better not snitch 😾] [you: its so boring w out u here btw SO COME BACK SOON PLSS] [you: ok thats enuff…txt me when u land!]

Wonwoo really missed you.

…

One more week and Wonwoo would finally get to see you again. The ability to talk to you in person, hug you, and spend time with you gave him something to look forward to, and thankfully, summer break went by fast because of it.

He had spent most of his time in Korea eating at local food spots, going to the gym, and trying a lot of new things with his brother, Seongho, giving them time to bond before he went off to University again. Wonwoo had missed his brother dearly during the school year, but at least they were able to pass the time together during summer break.

It was initially his brother’s convincing that got him to go to the gym for the very first time. The idea of going to a place with a lot of sweaty, adrenaline-filled people kind of frightened him, but the more he went, the more he started to like what he saw in the mirror. Wonwoo’s shoulders had broadened, and his lanky arms finally started to show signs of muscles. He was satisfied in knowing that all of his hard work, and Seongho’s encouragement had finally paid off.

Seongho told him he looked a lot more carefree now that he wasn’t so worried about his appearance all the time. And it was then that Wonwoo realized that he wasn’t all that bad-looking, after all.

Wonwoo had begun to take pride in his vanity. He searched for different ways to style his hair, bought glasses that better suited his face shape, and, most of all, did his best to act more confidently. The sudden change made him wonder how you would react. He had been anticipating your reaction, wanting to see the look on your face once he returned home.

“You got it. Just one more rep, and we can switch,” Seongho encouraged Wonwoo as he tried to push the bar up from his chest.

His muscles were aching in the most addictive and satisfying way. He almost wished he had started working out earlier because only good things seemed to have come ever since he stepped foot into the gym.

“Okay! You’re done, that was good,” his older brother high-fived him, a proud smile dancing along his lips.

“Thanks, but my arms feel like jelly now,” he huffed a chuckle before gulping down the contents of his water bottle.

Seongho chuckled along with him before setting himself down on the workout bench. His actions faltered, and he slowly observed the mirror in front of him, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

“Uh, don’t look now, but I think that girl is staring at you,” Seongho tilted his head in the girl’s direction and Wonwoo couldn’t be more confused.

“Huh? Are you sure it's me they’re looking at and not you?”

“I’m serious! You should go talk to her,” Seongho grinned, pushing his younger brother in the direction of the girl who was supposedly eyeing Wonwoo.

“Hyung!” Wonwoo calls out but it falls on deaf ears as his older brother begins his bench presses.

Wonwoo turns towards the girl in the most awkward way humanly possible. He was completely dumbfounded and not sure what to do in the situation he’d been put in. The girl who was staring at him waved flirtatiously, and before he could even think about his next move, his feet had begun to move on their own accord.

“Hi, I saw you working out over there, are you new here?” she asked him, batting her eyelashes.

“Uhm, I guess? I’m only here for the summer though,” he spoke with apprehension, because what the hell was he even supposed to say?

“Oh! Me too. My name is Haein, by the way.” Haein’s smile reached her eyes as she giggled, and her hand extended to shake Wonwoo’s.

Wonwoo’s actions were practically robotic, rubbing his sweaty palms on his gym shorts before taking her hand in his. He remembers thinking about how soft her hands were, and how pretty she looked with her hair tied up in a messy bun.

“I’m Wonwoo.”

“Wonwoo, hmm, that’s a cute name. But I think I would like it more in my contacts,” she flirted shamelessly, her fingers squeezing his sweaty bicep.

Wonwoo’s mind short-circuited, and he took out his phone from his pocket so fast it almost slipped out of his grasp. Haein found it endearing though, and happily gave him her phone number.

They talked for the rest of Wonwoo's time at the gym and promised to hang out more before they both went home at the end of the summer.

To put it simply, Wonwoo was on cloud nine for the first time since he’s been here. Suddenly his aunt Seo-Ah’s words weren’t so hurtful, his confidence had skyrocketed, plus he had a beautiful girl to talk to for the rest of his vacation.

By the end of summer, Wonwoo started to miss you less and less. Even though he still saw you as his best friend, he began to find peace in other things, like the fresh air that breezed through his fingers or the scent of the salty water misting its way onto the shore of his hometown. Finally, for the first time in his life, Wonwoo felt serene, and that made him a little more whole than he was when he first landed in Changwon.

…

The after-effects of Wonwoo’s surprisingly pleasant summer vacation hadn’t worn off just yet. The gift of Haein appearing in his life seemed to just keep on giving. Not only did she live overseas, she had told him that she was actually from the same city as him. It was a little hard to believe at first as if he was the main character in a cheesy rom-com, but he couldn’t find it in him to complain. Haein made him feel wanted, excited, and cared for.

Wonwoo wasn’t entirely devoid of those feelings, especially with you as his best friend, but it was different coming from Haein. Every time he saw her, he felt like he was going to throw up, in a good way of course, but she also boosted his confidence. He liked that she made him feel like he was a man worth depending on.

Haein was his first real relationship, and although he was still young, he could see himself being with her for a long time.

…

Quite like the seasons, Wonwoo’s feelings for Haein changed drastically by the time school was back in session. Although he and Haein lived in the same city, there was a lot more than just distance that separated them.

Six months into their relationship, Wonwoo began to doubt himself. He was less eager to meet her or even text her. He could only blame himself for how things turned out with Haein. Despite his adolescence, he believed he loved her; he just got tired and disinterested.

On a subconscious level, Wonwoo could not stop comparing Haein to you, and as fucked up as that was, it was completely out of his control. Why didn’t Haein ever want to talk about what Wonwoo was interested in? Why did she seem bored out of her mind when he would delve into his theories about his favourite shows? Or anything about himself and what he liked. As though she didn’t see him for the Wonwoo he was, the personality he had behind his looks.

“It all makes sense now! Eren had Zeke fooled!” Wonwoo couldn’t contain his excitement about the newest episode, but Haein didn’t seem interested in hearing her boyfriend geek out.

“I'm sorry babe, but I gave up after the first episode,” Haein sighed into the phone, and if Wonwoo could guess, she was probably picking at her cuticles out of boredom. “I just didn’t get anything that was happening.”

“Wait, really?” He was a little offended, how could she not be obsessing over the beautiful intricacies of his favourite anime? Wonwoo didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand because when he introduced you to the show, you texted him the next day saying you were caught up to where he had left off. It amazed Wonwoo how fast you were at binge-watching shows, especially because he had told you about it on a weekday.

You came into school the morning after with dark circles under your eyes, but even with that tired look on your face, you ran up to him with so much eagerness while thanking him for urging you to watch his favourite show. You two were obsessed and never missed out on watching the weekly episodes together. It had become you and Wonwoo’s thing, and even though he wanted Haein to join in on the fun, he found himself more entertained by your theories than by talking on the phone with his girlfriend.

It dawned on him that he wished that Haein acted a little more like you. And it made him feel guilty. He knew he should’ve loved Haein no matter her interests, but he wanted someone who could understand his nerdy side. And that was only something that you were able to do.

“Honestly, I’m really tired, I’m gonna go to bed now okay?” Haein’s voice brought Wonwoo out of his thoughts.

“Oh okay. Night.” He said before ending the call so quickly that Haein’s ‘I love you’ was cut off mid-sentence.

Haein probably had thought he had forgotten, but Wonwoo just didn’t want to say those words if he didn’t mean it. He had grown annoyed, and a little bored of practically talking to a wall all night.

Comparable to the light switching off in his bedroom, he decided to do the same thing with Haein. He pushed his guilt aside and decided it was probably best to leave Haein and Changwon in the past. The memories of his last week of summer with her would become something he would look back on in the future and smile. But he didn’t want to pretend any longer, it would’ve just hurt her more if he stayed, he couldn’t help that he fell out of love with her. The least he could do was not lead her on.

Wonwoo’s relationship with Haein was merely a catalyst and a peek into what the rest of his relationships were going to look like in adulthood. He was never able to comprehend why he couldn’t keep feelings for anyone after the six-month mark, and it almost frustrated him. Something was missing in every single relationship he had been in, and he wasn’t sure what that was. But he was determined to find an answer.

three, present time.

The answer was you. But of course, Wonwoo didn’t know that.

“Are you gonna keep checking your phone every five minutes or are you gonna do your homework?” Mingyu lectures him.

The two were studying in the library before their stats midterm, but Wonwoo’s mind couldn’t help but wonder. He hasn’t been acting like himself since the night of Seokmin’s party.

“Oh, right.” Wonwoo clears his throat, putting his phone face down on the table.

Wonwoo drags his palms against his face, trying to not let sleep overtake him. It is not his fault that every time he tries to close his eyes, your face comes into his mind. The memory of you smiling with Seokmin made his insides twist. He hasn’t seen you smile that hard in a while, and he almost misses how your eyes crinkle whenever you do so. You were practically haunting him and he had no idea how to make it stop.

“Not to be rude, but you’ve been looking like shit lately. What’s wrong?” Mingyu questions him with furrowed eyebrows.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes at his friend, he didn’t have to be insulted to know how crappy he looked, but Mingyu seemed to only be telling the truth. Wonwoo did look and feel like shit. With the amount of near run-ins he’s had with you and Seokmin on campus, he’s begun to sense that it’s some sort of karma. Whatever that karma may be for, he fully believes that it’s completely unwarranted.

Forcing a hand through his dark locks, Wonwoo contemplates whether or not he should just go up to you in person and demand answers. It’s uncommon for the two of you to fight, or ignore each other for that matter. But he can’t help but presume that if he were to confront you about your silence, there would be no rightful explanation. Or at least not the explanation that he wants from you.

Every time he even fathoms the thought of barging into your apartment and asking what the hell is wrong, there’s a lingering nervousness that he wishes would dissipate, leading him to lay awake with his thoughts for hours on end.

“Thanks for that, asshole, I just haven’t been getting much sleep,” Wonwoo huffs.

“Okay, obviously. You practically look like a zombie with the way you’ve been moping around. What has been keeping you up?” Mingyu presses.

It’s not every day that Wonwoo indulges in his problems with Mingyu, that’s what you were for. However, he can’t talk about his problems about you, to you, so he’ll have to settle for the next best thing.

“Y/N has been ignoring me since the night we all hung out at Seokmin’s,” Wonwoo confesses, and it feels nice.

For the past two weeks, he’s been keeping his frustrations to himself, and now that he can freely speak about it lifts the weight off his chest.

Mingyu snorts, obviously finding his friend’s situation humorous. Wonwoo sneers at Mingyu’s reaction, clearly not finding anything about you ignoring him funny.

“Serves you right, you’re a dick to her, man.” Mingyu shrugs without any remorse to spare.

“What?” Wonwoo sputters, since when was he a dick to you? His best friend?

“How blind are you? You have glasses and everything but you can’t see how mean you are to her sometimes? Really?” Mingyu almost sounds offended on your behalf as he stares at Wonwoo with an incredulous expression.

“I am not a dick to her. She would definitely tell me if I’ve ever said something to hurt her feelings,” Wonwoo defends himself.

Attempting to rack his brain of all your moments together, he can’t seem to pick out a memory where he has been especially rude to you. Of course, you two teased each other from time to time, but he wasn’t a complete asshole. He knew when to not take a joke too far or purposely try to upset you.

“You’re a dumbass.” Mingyu lets out a frustrated sigh which only aggravates Wonwoo even more.

“Could you stop with the insults for one second and just tell me what’s going on?”

Shutting his laptop, Mingyu’s posture becomes serious, a deviation from his usual carefree and smiley self. He cares about you just as much as the next person, so if he had to reality-check his friend, then so be it.

“She cares about you a lot. And you treat her like shit. It’s not about what you’ve said to her, it’s your actions. Ever since we were in high school all you’ve done is use her to solve your problems. I can’t even blame her for wanting to cut you off. I don’t know what happened at Seokmin’s place for her to realize that, but you don’t deserve her,” Mingyu confesses.

Soaking up each word that left Mingyu’s mouth, Wonwoo sat in a pool of perplexity. There are so many questions flying through his mind, yet he can’t seem to utter a single word. Is that really how everyone perceives his friendship with you?

Wonwoo is going to throw up. There's a tightness in his chest and a burning sensation behind his eyes. He wants nothing more than to hear all of this coming from you, not Mingyu. The frustration of wanting to talk to you about this is taking a toll on him, he doesn’t want to believe that Mingyu is telling the truth.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that Mingyu gets to know these things about you while Wonwoo is just left in the dark. Did he make you feel like you couldn’t tell him anything?

Ever since Wonwoo met you, it was evident that he can be quite merciless when it comes to his relationships, but that’s romantic, not platonic. Wonwoo was convinced that he treated you equally because that’s how it's supposed to be.

Hearing Mingyu talk about his friendship with you in that way caused Wonwoo’s whole world to crash down. And the only thing he can do in moments like these is seek out your comfort, except he can’t anymore. Not only has he been a terrible friend without realizing it, but he’s pushed you so far to the brink that you’d rather ignore him than attempt to hash out what’s been troubling you.

“I-I didn’t know that's how you guys saw our friendship,” Wonwoo falters, clearly taken aback, and still attempting to fully comprehend what’s been said to him.

“It’s not that we see your friendship with her that way, it is that way. If I was her, I would’ve cut you off a long time ago.”

“Well, thanks, Gyu. I feel like this could’ve been said before she started ignoring me,” Wonwoo huffs, trying to come up with the words to explain his side.

“It was kinda obvious, man,” Mingyu shrugs.

“Was it, though? If I had known, I would’ve at least tried to be better,” Wonwoo attests, tired of feeling like the bad guy.

“How about you just talk to her about it instead of sulking,” Mingyu suggests.

Desperation hijacked his rational thinking, making Mingyu’s advice sound plausible. Talking to you seemed out of the equation since you started ignoring him; he feared you wouldn’t even answer if he tried to call or show up at your door. But he can’t go on like this, especially now that he knows there is more to your friendship than he had initially thought.

four.

For the first time in Wonwoo’s life, he’s unsure about what decision to make. Although he wants nothing more than to knock on your door, his feet stop him from even entering your building. So instead of mucking up the courage to talk to you face to face, he waits inside his car. Without a solid plan, he continues to sit there, biding his time.

Never has he acted so pathetic in his life, not even for the sake of his relationships. He knows that nothing will come from sitting there, just watching, but before he can even comprehend what he is doing and where he is going, he is already across the street from your place.

Gripping on the leather of his steering wheel, he just couldn’t help himself. He can’t help but watch your silhouette from your window. The curtains are drawn, but there are glimpses of you walking around. He’s such a fucking loser. What type of person has Wonwoo become that he resorts to stalking you from the front of your building?

After all that Mingyu has enlightened him on, Wonwoo’s attitude has become less angry and more apologetic. There was a line he pondered crossing, and it practically mocked him. Stepping over that line would mean getting answers from you, demanding to be brought into the light that you had snuffed out from under him. But his uncertainty of the outcome outweighed his decision to do so.

That same apologetic attitude died a fiery death after watching Seokmin leave your apartment. There you were in all your glory, the tiny sleep set clinging onto your body as the wind forced its way into the door of your building. Then there was Seokmin, grinning like a fucking idiot as he waved goodbye.

“Shit!” Wonwoo grunts as he ducks down, not wanting to blow his cover. His car was visible from where the two of you stood, hoping that you weren’t able to recognize it in the dead of night.

Boring holes into the back of Seokmin’s head, Wonwoo's guilt diminished, floating away with the cold night breeze. You were fine, and he should’ve known that the root of all his problems started with the name Lee Seokmin.

The shape of your figure had faded into the confines of your building. Yet Wonwoo can still make out your body through the glass window of your door. He can’t help but gawk at your skimpy attire, your ass practically on display for the whole world to see. The deathly twist in his gut intensifies the more he ponders on what may have happened during Seokmin’s visit. Wonwoo desperately wants to stop thinking about the possibilities, especially because your lack of clothing only fueled that inferno inside his mind.

He’s never been more annoyed at Seokmin in his entire life, not until today.

Wonwoo allowed himself to ignore the signs, but only for a moment. But this, this he can’t ignore. Not after what he witnessed. He allowed himself to stay ignorant when it came to your silence because he had been so naive to think that it was your decision. Now that he knows Seokmin had somehow weaselled his way closer to you, Wonwoo had to make sure this plan of his didn’t go on any longer.

…

There is a heat inside Wonwoo that, for some reason, he cannot extinguish. The curve and outlines of your body burn in the back of his retinas. No matter how many times he’s tried to put himself to sleep, the image of you is clear as day in his mind. Sparks crawl their way up his spine, and he desperately wishes that it would just go away.

There’s a point where Wonwoo gave up on trying to sleep altogether. Thoughts of you, your body, and the oh-so-painful reminder that you’re still ignoring him. How can he sleep with everything going on? What made things worse, was the fact that the one person he wanted to call most likely wouldn’t pick up.

Wonwoo wasn’t the type of person to let his emotions get the better of him, but this abrupt rift that has been torn between you two has him acting out in ways he’s never acted before.

The urge to grab his phone, to text you, to give it one more try, grows perpetually every second he lies awake.

One more time. One more attempt. What does he have to lose?

Wonwoo stands up, pacing around nonsensically, trying to think of what to say. For all he knows, you may not even answer, but there is the urge to hear your voice one more time and see your name pop up on his screen. Wonwoo yearns for you so much so that it supersedes any part of common sense he has left in him.

[12:52 a.m.] [wons <3: darling. can we talk? please?] [not delivered]

The silence within the four walls of Wonwoo’s bedroom is harrowing. Out of all the outcomes he had considered before he texted you, the outcome of you blocking him was not even on the list.

Before jumping to some sort of conclusion, Wonwoo’s finger hovers over the call button with skepticism. If you don’t pick up, then that’s it. That would be the definitive answer to all his qualms.

“The number you have called is not available, please leave a message at the tone,” an automated voice affirmed his suspicions.

The notification is gut-wrenching, but he can’t just sit here and pretend like it’s okay for you to do this. To decide without any of his input. What kind of friend were you to just drop him like he was nothing but an old toy? How unfair did you have to be to not even try to talk it out before you completely cut him off?

five.

Pacing outside the door of your apartment, Wonwoo hasn’t been this nervous in years. He has always been so sure of himself, but it’s almost two in the morning and he’s still continuing to weigh his options.

It’s either you’ll let him in, and talk for the first time in almost two weeks, or you’ll kick him out before he can step a foot past the door. Desperately, he desires that it be the first option. Losing you over this would break him, and not in the way you would expect.

He’s already lost his mind. This shouldn’t be the way you two break it off. It won’t be the way you two break it off. Not if Wonwoo has a say in the situation.

Sweaty palms and white knuckles rasp against the dark oak that barricades himself from you. There’s nothing that Wonwoo wants more than to see your face glowing in front of him. And before he can even get a word out to you, the door whips open. The person on the other side is someone Wonwoo is starting to get really sick of seeing.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Both Wonwoo and Seokmin speak in unison.

Scoffing, Wonwoo rolls his eyes at his so-called friend, “I think I should be asking you that. You clearly don’t live here.”

“Minnie? Is someone at the door?” your voice is as sweet as a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day.

Minnie. Wonwoo almost threw up in his mouth.

Minnie. The nickname is parallel to nails scraping against a chalkboard.

“Yeah! Your neighbour just needed to borrow something,” Seokmin goads through a sickly sweet smile, eyes never leaving Wonwoo’s. Without as much as a word of mockery, Seokmin’s expression had said more than his words ever could have.

Despite his soft demeanour, Wonwoo knew there was something vile hiding under Seokmin’s thick skin.

A rebuttal to his deception is on the tip of Wonwoo’s tongue, but your melodic voice echoes throughout your home once more. The refute dies within his throat, and he hopes you will come out and see what your “neighbour” is looking for.

“Okay!” is the only response you give out. The reverberation of the water hitting the shower tiles causes Wonwoo’s stomach to practically lurch out his abdomen.

“Whatever you’re doing, she’s not gonna fall for it,” Wonwoo jeered, staring at Seokmin with looks that should kill, if he could.

Seokmin chuckles bitterly, “She already has.”

There was no need for Wonwoo to put two and two together; he already knew what Seokmin was alluding to. It left a dreadful taste in his mouth.

Puffing out his chest, Wonwoo takes a step closer towards the man he once considered a close friend. Sizing him up, he knew that Seokmin was the reason for the wedge in your friendship. And Wonwoo had no problem treating him as such.

“You’re fucking sick, you know that?” Wonwoo practically spits in his face.

“I could say the same thing for you,” Seokmin mutters, unperturbed, “I didn’t have to do anything you know? Just a little push and she fell into my lap, voluntarily.”

“I’m not just going to let you get away with something like this. She’s my best friend.”

“I think the correct tense is was. She was your best friend,” Seokmin taunted.

He was wrong about Seokmin. Even though he had known about his friend's crush on you for years, Wonwoo didn’t expect the lengths Seokmin would go to in order to cut him out of the picture.

Before a breath could even escape his lips, Seokmin cuts him off, “I think it’s time for you to leave. She doesn’t want to see you.”

The last few words that he heard come out of Seokmin’s mouth nearly fell on deaf ears. It was practically a whisper, laced with enough malice to almost kill the fighting spirit inside him. Almost.

“By the way, don’t text her anymore. I’ve made sure she won’t get any more notifications from you.”

The realization had struck Wonwoo hard. He knew you well enough that you wouldn’t just block him so carelessly, without a word no less. Yet he was no match for Seokmin, not after the fact that you allowed him into your home, your heart, so willingly.

…

Lying in wait, Wonwoo observes the door of your building once more. The distinct difference this time was that Wonwoo had no guilt left in him to care. Whether you see him or his car across the street didn’t matter to him anymore. The only thing Wonwoo wanted to make sure of was whether or not Seokmin would be leaving your place.

After what had felt like hours, he watched the same scene from last night unfold in front of him once more. The abhorrent hug goodbye that is exchanged between you and Seokmin is nothing but a cue for Wonwoo to make his move.

With as much grace as a bull in a china shop, he slams the car door shut, not even bothering to lock it before he stalks his way to your apartment. The anticipation caused the hairs on his neck to stand straight up. As he presses the button to your floor, he can only deliberate whether any of Seokmin’s words hold any truth behind them.

Certainly not, right? Not after all the years you spent together. His friendship with you couldn’t end on this vague note. You were always the sentimental type, holding onto trinkets, memories, and even people for far too long. It should be the same with Wonwoo; he believed it would be the same.

If there is a chance, you should allow him to talk and voice his opinion. No, Wonwoo will voice his opinion; there has never been a time when you haven’t let him speak.

As the elevator ascends to your floor, anxiety begins to weigh down his shoulders. The feeling is atypical and Wonwoo hates how his throat constricts. He hates how his clothes feel too tight and stuffy despite his casual attire. Is this how it feels? To actually care about someone and whether their decisions might affect him later on?

Footsteps echo within the hallway, and with each step he takes, the illusion steadily becomes more vivid. Your front door almost looks like it’ll take a mile before Wonwoo can reach it, rather than a few feet away.

After what felt like years, Wonwoo stands before the entrance of your home once more. The foreboding tension won’t vanish and it’s starting to make him itch. Without another thought, Wonwoo forces himself to knock on the door knowing it’ll be you who answers this time, not Seokmin.

“Minnie? Did you leave something agai—,” Abrupt silence engulfs your words, leaving nothing but an echo to resonate within the expanse of your long hallway.

“Wonwoo…” your voice falters, like you genuinely didn’t expect to see him, let alone have him standing outside your door.

“Did you fuck him?” Wonwoo cuts to the chase, not leaving any room for you to ask questions.

His blunt words caused a frown to grace your soft pink lips, and Wonwoo almost felt bad for being so frank. But he doesn’t have time to beg for your forgiveness, the anger surmounting to nothing but harsh words and a push past you and into your home.

“Did you fuck him? Yes or no?” Wonwoo continues to press you for answers, agitated that you have the audacity to stand there dumbfounded. As if you don’t know who he's talking about. “C’mon, you know who I’m talking about,” he can almost laugh at the situation in front of him.

How is it that all the rage he built up for Seokmin is being taken out on you? Wonwoo had no clue, but the thought of his friend-now-enemy defiling you, tasting you, while Wonwoo desperately waited for your call caused him to direct all his anger to you. Perhaps it’s undeserving to do so, but Wonwoo’s frustration spoke for him before his brain could even register what he was saying.

“The past two weeks you’ve been ignoring me, spending your time with him, do you know where his true intentions lie?” Wonwoo continues to rant with unpreparedness.

He didn’t plan what he was going to say because there was a moment of doubt, he had expected you to open the door just to slam it right back in his face. The look you gave him almost brought him to his knees. Your doe-eyed expression could’ve broken down every wall he’s built if only he hadn’t let his anger proceed him.

Wonwoo should’ve cried, to plead for you to take him back. To go back to the way things were. He knew he fucked up the moment he uttered a single word. The hurt flashed across your face as though Wonwoo turned your world upside down.

“Seokmin doesn’t care about you, and I’ll tell you that now because you need to hear it. He just wants to fuck you! And you just gave that to him?” He can’t stop talking.

“Stop. Just stop fucking talking Wonwoo. Do you hear yourself right now?” You cut off his rant. “Out of all people, who gave you the right to tell me who I can and cannot fuck? Especially knowing the type of person that you are. It doesn’t matter if Seokmin and I had sex. What matters is the fact that you think you can barge in here at two-thirty in the morning interrogating me over a situation that doesn’t involve you.”

“No. I’m just trying to help you. Seokmin isn’t the person that you think he is,” Wonwoo seethes, annoyed at how you’re twisting his words.

The bile in his throat rose further, as you stood before him like he had just kicked your dog. Wonwoo’s extremely aware of the hole he had dug for himself, but he couldn’t stop. His urge to self-sabotage overrides his common sense.

“That is exactly what we’re not going to do right now. Seokmin has been a better friend to me than you have been in all the years we’ve known each other. I have been by your side for years, bending over backwards. I was at your beck and call and I’m tired. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and warn myself about you. I fell in love with my best friend, and the worst part was that you didn’t care enough to notice.

“I gave up so much for you, Wonwoo. I lost myself trying to please you. But I give up. I was drowning in my love for you. It consumed every part of me to the point I couldn’t even come up for air. And I’m just sick of it. I know there’s a part of you that cares about me too, but it’ll never be equal. I’ll always love you more than you love me, and I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

“What hurts me the most, is that you thought it would be okay to accuse me of things I didn’t even do. I did not sleep with Seokmin, but why is that what you care about? He respects me and just wants to be there for me. And that’s a lot more than I could ever say about you.”

Your voice was terrifyingly calm, with neither a lilt nor a hiccup during your speech. The heft of your declaration crashed back down onto Wonwoo, leaving him at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing to come out of his mouth after a long pause.

“Please. It’s late, you should go home,” you sigh, but Wonwoo couldn’t move an inch. He refused.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats himself, looking into your eyes, searching for the look of endearment you had always given him.

“Wonwoo…” there it is. Your voice had broken for the first time since Wonwoo stepped foot in the place.

“Please. I’m so fucking sorry. For getting angry, for doubting you, for not realizing how badly you were hurting,” Wonwoo resorted to pleading.

A look of desperation mixed with agony was the only thing you could exchange for his apologies.

The stare of grief you had given him caused a shooting pain to swell throughout his limbs. The one that begins at his fingertips, creeping up to tug at the strings that held his heart together. He wanted this nightmare to end, and he was sure you did too.

“It’s time for you to go. I’m tired, Wonwoo.” A single tear slips and trickles down your cheek.

He regrets not wiping it away for you at that moment. It was the first time he had been so unsure of his actions. So, instead, he walked out of your apartment, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of his cologne and a piece of his heart.

Wonwoo's world was crumbling underneath him, and there was only one person he refused to let go of. He should’ve known.

He should’ve known that you were in front of him this whole damn time.

end of act one.

⊹ a/n: if you liked this story pls dont be afraid to let me know thru a reblog, comment or ask! also a big ty to my beshies forever @vapidlynn and @bunnyjjongie who i've texted multiple times in the wee hours of the morning for reassurance abt this thing hehe.

#jeon wonwoo #seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #svthub #Hiraya-M #thediamondlifenetwork #seventeen fic #wonwoo x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #svt fic #svt smut #svt fanfic #wonwoo #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo seventeen #svt imagines

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hoshigray · 7 months ago

Note

reader flirting with some random guy for toji to fuck her senseless 🙏🙏🙏😭😭 really mean and sadistic toji with a really submissive reader

sorry for tbe filth im ltierally dying i want that man so bad

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: fuck yessssssss!! lmao not me writing this in a day

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: hard dom! Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - rough sex - Daddy kink - choking - spitting - impact play; spanking - degradation (bitch, cumslut, fuckhole, slut, whore) - minimal praise - missionary + backshots/leapfrog positions - dumbification - pinching - pet names (baby, good girl, mama) - Toji is a bit mean here - mention of blood and drool.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k

Toji didn’t like what he was seeing.

You knew better, yet you still misbehaved.

Your boyfriend sees you from across the pub, mingling with some random guy at the bar top. You were smiling and laughing at the dude’s jokes, prompting the man to treat you to some drinks. To say that the display left a sour taste in Toji’s mouth would be an understatement, especially with how you would place your hands on the chump’s arm or lean into him to rest your head. How brazen of you.

Oh, but what really sealed the deal for him would be the occasional glances you’d throw his way. Your eyes honed on him briefly with a mischievous smile to complete the look before you went to your business — you knew what you were doing. And it made the older man’s brow twitch, rich green eyes observing your every move.

Just wait til’ we get home, brat. That’s all he can think of as you deliberately flaunt your autonomy. Because the moment you have your purposeful fun and return to Toji’s side, ready to go home, he takes you without a word. He doesn’t have to say anything, letting what will happen once you step inside the house speak for itself.

“—Ahhch!! Fuhucck!! Harder, Daddy, harder…!”

Have you ever been choked while being fucked into like a toy? That’s the treatment you’re receiving as you lie on the bed, Toji’s tough, calloused hands wrapped around your throat to restrict your breathing while he pistons his cock into you with inhumane force.

“Harder, they say,” he chuckles. “Who told you can boss me ‘round, huh?” His hold on your throat gets tighter, and the limitation of air becomes hard to avoid while turning you on even more with the clamp of your walls around his fat dick. “You got some nerve, actin’ like a real fuckin’ slut tonight, huh?”

The snap of his hips makes it difficult to respond to him appropriately, his girth stretching your insides so euphorically, and the scrape of your g-spot has you shaking. Fuck, it felt so fucking good, so rewarding to be used like this!

“Hahh…To’jii—Ehhck!!”

“Wrong name, whore.” His eyes narrowed, hands getting tighter and tighter that his fingernails pierced your skin, the pain adding to the suffocation.

Your watery orbs roll to the top of your head as dizziness creeps in. “Dad–dyy, I…can’t brea…” your lips agape, trying to gather whatever air you can.

Toji sees your open mouth, and with a wicked snicker, he spits into it. Your eyes widen instantly, but Toji uses one hand to squeeze your cheeks roughly. “Swallow,” he demands with a dark glint in his eyes. There’s a bit of a struggle, yet he senses you gulp his saliva down from the bob of your throat, and a shiver crawls down his spine when you show your clean mouth. “That’s a good girl…”

Don’t get blinded easily because he is not finished with you yet.

He’ll have your back faced to him, face down to the sheets, and butt up for him to plow. His hands keep your lower half to him at all times, rutting his pelvis so hard to your wet cunt that it rocks you against the mattress. Your asscheeks rebound with every smack of his hips, taking your breath away.

“Ooooh, hoooh, mmaahhh!” There is no way you could even make out a proper sentence, Toji grinding into your soapy slit has you shrieking from his cockhead grazing those sweet spots your could never reach.

Unbeknownst to you, the older man surprises you with a hard slap to your ass. The action pulls you out of your daze for a split second to scream, and your vagina inherently contracts onto his length. He hisses, “Hssshhiit, baby, fuckin’ grippin’ on me and making so much damn noise like a bitch in heat...Hey, I’m talkin’ to you.” Another smack to your butt for not responding to him, prompting a rushed wail to leave your lips. “Heh, damn slut, can’t even talk to me; all you’re thinking about is my dick, right?” He slowly pulls his cock back to hear your whining, a salacious grin grows by the inch when he snaps the limb back inside your warmth, and you grip the sheets. “Mmmph, fuck, this pussy is too crazy…”

Another slap to your butt makes you tremble and twitch, peering over your shoulder to look at the man behind you. Jesus, he looked so hot the way he was drilling his dick into you. The sounds of skin slapping against each other brings the room to life. “—Fuuahh, haahnn, Daddyyy…!”

The raven-haired man notices you observing him, chuckling before placing a hand on your head to smoosh it back down to the sheets. “Who the fuck told ya to look over here?” He strikes your ass once more, his fingertips stinging crescents into your hot skin. He's so rough with you that you know there will be blood from those scratches.

The weight of his hand on your head feels so strong, unable to move as his entire brawny frame has you submit to his bow. “Daddyyyy, ohh fuuuck,” you mewl for him to hear. “It shfeels sho g’ood…!” God, you sound so fucking stupid. Your brain dissolves into mush, and your body corrupted by his powerful dominance. “God, it sh’o gooood! Give me more, pleaseee!!”

“There they go asking for more, fuckin’ fuckhole,” he groans under his breath, grinding his pelvis to your chasm to listen to your sweet begs for pleasure. “Easy there, mama; I’ll give ya what ya want...Hgghh…You wanna cum for Daddy again, right?”

Drool streams down from your lips to stain the sheets beneath. “Yesshhh, yes pleaseee…! Ohhh!” He slaps and pinches your asscheeks again; Good Lord, his strikes were not meant for the weak.

“Then stay still, look all pretty, and keep wringin’ me out like the cumslut you are, got it?” You babble more sounds of agreement, thoughtless on whether they are actual words. You amuse him to remove his hand from your head and back to your hips, propelling you to stick to him again as his hips strike your ass with a hungry vigor.

“That’s my girl…”

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

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liquidstar · 6 months ago

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The characters all have real names now 👍 they might still change but they're at least chosen to be more than just placeholders

does anybody remember that one transgender isekai concept i had a while ago. i decided to work on the idea some more (even wrote a very rough draft for the start of it, though im using placeholder names) and i came to the realization that i want struggling w identity to be a throughline for every major character so now im having so much fun coming up with ways, both fantastical and grounded, to apply it to everyone (it mostly wont be just gender) now im excited to make it more real. maybe even give these characters some names lol

#I'm using real names for this bunch even the fantasy world characters #tho i didn't give them last names like the ones from the real world. still might later though #but bc theyre real names i was using baby name websites and then double checking to make sure the websites weren't just making shit up lol #hopefully i didnt just find more bs but i also looked into real ppl w the names so it's probably fine #see if im basically taking inspo for the premise from japanese animation/lns it makes the most sense to make the protagonist japanese #and i want character names to have meanings so i was looking at different ways to spell the names #but i don't speak japanese and thus cannot read kanji so i wanted to make sure i was checking thoroughly BUT there may still be blind spots #though this may not end up mattering because I'm writing in english anyway but i still think the sentiment matters because #it'll give me a clearer idea of the meaning and that's something to write around too. so it matters #genuinely tho having character names gives me a much clearer image of their personalities and stuff #makes me very excited to do more stuff w them. will have to go back and change those placeholders

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nereidprinc3ss · 10 months ago

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light of the morning

in which spencer sneaks into bau!reader's hotel room and they share a little more than just the bed

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence x sub reader, munch!spence, unprotected piv sex (dont do that), creampie (hate that word btw) praise, mentions of having to be quiet because morgan is right next door LOL, fluffy, established co-workers/friends with benefits, soooo idiots in love a/n: here is the promised smut. i am literally kicking my feet and twirling my hair and giggling and blushing at my own writing. I'm gonna have a freak out. requests are open like my legs

It’s late when the knock finally comes. Late enough that you’re dozing on the bed above the covers.

It takes you a moment to reorient yourself—you’re rubbing your heavy eyes when you finally get the door.

"Hi."

"Hey," says Spencer, hands awkwardly shoved into his pajama pants pockets. It’s funny, really. He never gets any better at this.

You step aside and he enters the room, looking around as you close and relock the door.

"Did I wake you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You’re in pajamas. And you look tired. I mean—you don’t look bad. You never look bad, I just meant… you don’t look tired but you’re not—I didn’t mean to—"

"Relax," you yawn, putting him out of his misery. "I was joking. I know I look tired." You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. "It’s late. We have to be up early tomorrow."

"Yeah, I got, uh, sidetracked. Sorry."

He was reading. If it was anyone else, you'd be offended--but a sinkhole could open up under Spencer's feet and he probably wouldn't notice if he was absorbed in a book.

You shrug, a knowing smile lifting the corner of your mouth.

"It’s fine. But I don’t know if tonight is a good night. I really am exhausted."

His eyebrows dart up.

"That’s fine. That’s totally fine. I’ll just, uh—"

When you don’t move from in front of the door, he pauses, unsure. You bite the inside of your cheek, studying his rangy frame and choice of clothing. Blue pajama pants, slippers, grey CalTech zip up hoodie. It feels wrong to describe a 6'1 man as adorable, but that’s how he looks in his sleep clothes. There’s a very real chance, you find yourself thinking, that you are the only member of the BAU to ever see him in something other than slacks and a button-down. He looks so cozy that you kind of really want him in your bed even if he’s not doing anything but sleeping. The invitation slips out before you can think too hard about it.

"You could… stay, anyway, if you want?"

His mouth parts slightly, and those eyebrows raise again. There’s a moment of awkward silence and you are very much beginning to regret your offer, wondering if you somehow violated the sanctity of your co-workers/friends with benefits situtationship. Clumsily you try to backtrack.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you can—"

"No, no! You didn’t, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me to stay in your room. I’m right across the hall, I can go back if you want me to."

You smile awkwardly, silent relief replacing the brief anxiety.

"It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before." And not like you wouldn’t have ended up doing it tonight anyway, if things had gone as originally intended.

He chuckles, looking to the floor and nodding. The blush on his face does not go unnoticed by you. "Fair enough."

It’s incredibly endearing how nervous he still gets after six months of this little arrangement.

"Do you wanna get your stuff, or…"

"No, that’s okay. I’ll just go back early tomorrow. The chances of someone seeing me leave your room are significantly higher if I do it so soon after entering."

You squint, unable to tell if he’s fucking with you or if that’s an actual statistically sound probability. And then you realize, blissfully, that you don’t really care.

"Okay, well. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to brush my teeth."

Once you’re enclosed in the bathroom, hotel vanity lights blinding you as you brush, you find that there is a jittery sort of apprehension buzzing in your chest. But that’s silly. As you yourself pointed out, the two of you have shared a bed many times over the past few months. But the sleeping together is always a byproduct of the sleeping together. Never have you shared a bed in a completely decent, virtuous, strictly non-sexual manner. It’s always been a matter of convenience—less bother if he doesn’t have to worry about sneaking back into his room in the middle of the night when you’re both exhausted. Or maybe that’s just what you’ve been telling yourselves.

You rinse your mouth out and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and finding that Spencer has indeed made himself comfortable. The hotel room is dark and he’s already under the covers, fiddling with his phone.

"What time should I set the alarm for?" He asks, looking over at you as you crawl into bed, drawing the covers over yourself. "I was thinking 6:23. That should give me enough time to—"

"Sounds perfect," you affirm, wiggling under the blanket as you get comfortable. He schedules the alarm and sets his phone on the bedside table, dousing the room in complete darkness. Your eyes stay open despite, waiting for them to adjust. A few moments of utter silence and stillness pass, and you can tell Spencer is completely stiff next to you.

"Spencer."

“Yeah,” he answers immediately. Like he’s even more wired about this whole situation than you are.

"You know you don’t have to avoid touching me at all costs, right? I’m not a leper."

He looses a nervous laugh.

"I know. We’ve just never really done this."

You frown at the darkness.

"We’ve definitely slept in the same bed before."

"Yeah, but… this feels different."

That, you can’t argue with. Can friends with benefits share a bed just to be near each other? Does that blur some line? And why does it feel more intimate than the sex?

Screw it. If there is one thing you don’t want your relationship with Spencer to be, it is uncomfortable. Uncertain, you can work with. But not uncomfortable. You reach for him, hand sliding under the duvet—and find his hand already waiting for yours.

"I don’t think it’s that different," you lie, interlacing your fingers together slowly.

"Prolonged physical non-sexual contact does have measurable health benefits…" the words are murmured, like the moment is fragile and he doesn’t want to shatter it.

"Can’t argue with the facts," you breathe, trying to modulate the shakiness of your voice. But you have a feeling you’re doing about as good of a job at concealing your nerves as he is. He shifts.

"Can I…"

"Yeah."

Your heart is pounding as he slips one arm under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you close. Instinctually you curl into him, slinging your top leg over him as you’ve done before, but always dismissed as post-sex brain chemicals making you feel all warm and fuzzy. A neurological reaction that is so solidly scientific, neither of you ever questioned it. But it feels bigger now.

He exhales as you settle against each other—a sound of relief that mirrors your own. He’s so warm, so safe as he envelops you, physically and sensorially. In such close proximity, so clear-headed, you notice each layer of his scent. Toothpaste, lavender, vetiver, detergent. You sort of feel like a creep, but you can’t deny how comforting it is. Nor can you deny the pirouette your heart does when he begins minutely rubbing your back, like he’s not even thinking about it.

"Goodnight," you whisper into his shirt.

"Goodnight," he whispers back.

You fall asleep pretty quickly after that.

------------------------------

It’s unclear what wakes you up—maybe it’s the blue-grey dawn light filtering in through the filthy window (doubtful, it’s still mostly dark) or maybe it’s the blinking green digital clock on the nightstand. 5:02 AM. Your alarm will go off in an hour and 21 minutes.

Sometime in the night you shifted, turning over in your sleep, but Spencer is still holding you close. The arm slung so casually over your waist is slightly domineering, but you manage to rotate again and face him once more. Mere inches away from his face you can see every detail. His expression is so peaceful, it makes your heart ache.

But you’re just friends.

Perhaps he felt you moving, because his eyes flutter open and you watch as they flood with consciousness. He takes you in, takes in his arm over your waist. For a split second you’re nervous he’ll pull away.

"What time is it?" His voice is scratchy with sleep.

"Five."

"Why are you awake? We have over an hour til the alarm goes off."

"Sometimes waking up early is okay."

His eyes flicker between your own, and momentarily you’re paralyzed as you realize this is a limbo state for the two of you in which you’ve never operated. You don’t know what’s acceptable. You don’t know what to do. Being close to him feels so good, that the idea of separating hurts. But you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, or—

He leans forward and kisses you softly. In the blue light of dawn, rather than frenzied and hidden in the dark, a desperate tear of clothes and teeth and hands—it’s almost freeing. All the anxiety you were feeling just seconds ago begins to melt.

Friends.

"You looked anxious," is his whispered answer after he pulls away a moment later, like a kiss is the simplest remedy in the world. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "We should go back to sleep."

"I don’t want to go back to sleep."

The corner of his mouth twitches as he studies you.

"No? What do you want?"

Emboldened by your mutual indiscretion, it’s your turn to kiss him. You feel him smile against your lips, hand finding the back of your neck and raking up through your hair to pull you closer.

The delirium of sleep seems to have softened you, filed down the rough edges of your boundaries and kicked away the lines in the sand. What’s a kiss or two when you’ve just woken up? A small, innocuous display of affection while you’re still barely conscious. Nobody could fault either of you for that. People don’t think clearly when they’ve just been asleep.

So what if your lips part against his, and his other hand finds its way under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your waist and hips? So what if you hitch that leg over him again and press closer?

Spencer breaks the kiss, still ghosting over your lips.

"I thought it wasn’t a good night?"

"It’s not night time anymore, is it, genius?"

You sneak another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently as you pull away.

Instead of whatever array of responses you were expecting, Spencer smiles slightly, eyes almost sparkling in the faint light. The hand on your hip moves to your face, gently thumbing across your cheek. He begins to say something, and stops himself—biting his lip to hold back the words.

"What?" you ask, heart dropping. Illusion fracturing.

"I was just—" he begins, pausing for a moment before the words all come out in a rush. "I was just going to tell you how beautiful you are, but I don’t know if that’s something I should say, or if it would feel too… I don’t know…"

He trails off. A rare instance in which he doesn’t have the words.

You do. Intimate. Real. Romantic. And he’s right, it does feel too much like all of those things. But that doesn’t mean you don’t like it, perhaps more than is strictly good for you.

"It’s fine. Thank you."

He continues chewing on his lip for a moment.

"Did I just ruin the mood?"

"No," you laugh, "not at all."

"Thank god," he sighs, surging forward again.

"Since when do you thank god?" You manage between kisses.

He moves to press his lips to your jaw and down your neck.

"Do you want me to talk about the historical and cultural transition of religious expressions into ubiquitous secular colloquialisms right now?"

"Kind of," you breathe.

"No you don’t," he murmurs against your neck as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "You want me to take your clothes off."

Well, he’s not wrong there.

You help him tug the shirt over your head before leaning back into the pillows as he situates himself over you and lavishes more kisses down your neck and collarbones, pausing to suck a mark only when he knows it’s low enough to be covered by your clothing later.

You gasp when his lips brush over your nipple, before running his tongue over the sensitive skin. He glances up at you, and though his mouth is occupied, you can see the humor in his eyes. He loves how sensitive you are—how easy it is to get a reaction out of you.

Of course, you continue to prove him right when he takes the other into his mouth, trying to hold back your little whimpers as he darts his tongue over the peak. Maybe somebody else wouldn’t hear them, but Spencer does. He’s hyper attuned to the sounds you make. Something of a catalogue has begun to form in the back of his mind; he knows exactly what each noise means and how to get them out of you.

Once satisfied, he moves to press a kiss to your sternum.

"You’re gonna be quiet for me, right?" Another kiss above your bellybutton. "Because Morgan is sleeping right on the other side of that wall, and we don’t want to wake him up."

"I’ll be quiet," you promise, somewhat breathlessly. Spencer’s mouth trails lower until he’s pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely naked. He tosses them somewhere on the floor and hooks your legs over his shoulders.

"Good." He plants one last kiss to your thigh and the next one lands right between your legs.

You regret the need to be silent almost as soon as he drags his tongue over your clit. It’s not like the two of you have ever had the privilege of making a lot of noise, as the hotel rooms are always so close to each other, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

Instead you opt to rake your hands through his hair and try to take deep breaths. But he knows exactly what you like—he knows starting light and slow, teasing around your most sensitive spot will work you up to the brink of insanity, just like he knows gentle circles make your back arch and elicit the prettiest little moans.

"More," you beg, and the hands wrapped around your thighs rub soothingly, reassuring you that if you can just be patient you’ll get what you want.

He takes your aching clit into his mouth, sucking lightly and you’re forced to clap a hand over your mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure you can’t hold back. Spencer keeps it up until you’re practically riding his face, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his tongue when you get too close.

"Fuck, please, Spence," you whisper through your fingers, hips rutting in your desperation. Somehow it always ends up like this—with him in charge and you begging. Not that you have a problem with it, of course.

He hums into you, and if the way his tongue moves back to circling your clit with newfound fervor is any indication, is apparently satisfied with your entreaty.

You gasp and try to control your breathy moans, but his mouth feels so good on you that your vision is going out and you’re losing touch with reality ever so slightly. You use the last of your brain power to bite down on the back of your wrist, hoping it adequately muffles the noises you make as you come on Spencer’s tongue and he greedily continues lapping at you. There’s really no way of knowing—your ears are ringing anyway.

When you come to a moment later he’s peppering kisses on your thighs, rubbing your hips gently.

"So pretty," he murmurs, climbing back up so your lips can meet again. "Everything about you is pretty."

You paw at his shirt, signaling that you want it off as you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, feel your slippery arousal staining the kiss. Spencer helps you, sitting up briefly to unzip his hoodie and pull off his shirt.

You’re the one to drag him back down, and you notice that he pulls the covers back over the both of you in a sweet gesture he probably didn’t even think about.

"Need you to fuck me," you beg, reaching down to try and undress him further.

"So crude. What happened to my nice, sweet girl?" He mumbles against your neck, but helps you with his pants anyway.

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"Doubtful."

You don’t have much time to consider what that could mean before he’s running the head of his cock over your clit and you’re gasping into his mouth, saying please like it’s the only word you know.

"There she is," Spencer croons, slipping inside you slow enough for you to feel every inch but quick enough for it to expel all the air from your lungs. Once he’s opened you all the way up, impossibly deep and close, you’re seeing stars, barely breathing. His head has dropped to your shoulder but now he drags his lips up your neck and jaw. "We okay?"

It’s been a while, you realize, since that last case in Maine. He always takes some getting used to. Hardly able to think around the pressure of his cock you nod, trying to string together a few words.

"Fuck, I need a second." The words come out choked, but you manage. Spencer rubs your hip, his lips brushing yours as he speaks.

"Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you."

He curses to himself, dropping his head momentarily. You’re so fucking soft, and warm, and perfect, he can’t think straight. But he has to try because he has to take care of you.

"Spence," you gasp, failing to verbally communicate the intensity of the physical sensation.

"I know, baby," comes his sympathetic coo. "You know you can take me. Deep breaths."

"Mhm," you squeak, trying to take follow his directions and soften your muscles. Spencer keeps rubbing soothingly over your hips, stomach, whatever he can get his hands on, really, pressing kisses all over your face and telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel for him. After a few moments he feels you fluttering around him and experimentally pulls out halfway, before pushing back in equally as slowly. Your jaw drops as he begins to leisurely fuck you, arms wrapping around his back. He gets deeper than you expect every time, rubbing you raw and stretching you out in the most delicious way.

"Perfect, baby. Such a good listener, did exactly what I asked."

You cry out when he begins fucking you impossibly deeper, but still so slow and sweet.

"You feel so fucking good for me," he groans. "This is what you were made for, huh?" You agree enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut.

"Only for you."

Just three words—but he wasn’t expecting to like hearing you say that as much as he does. A strong desire to possess you overtakes him—one that he’ll probably have the decency to feel guilty about later, but for now feels fucking fantastic and intoxicating.

"Only me?"

You moan an affirmation.

"Good. I don’t want anyone else fucking you, do you understand me?"

"Yes!"

"I’m the only one who gets to touch you," he breathes, speeding up ever so slightly, "nobody else is going to feel you like this. Such a good girl, spreading her legs for me at five in the fucking morning. You’re not doing this for anybody else, baby."

"Uh-uh, please, pleasepleaseplease Spence—"

He knows what you need, reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit.

You gasp an airy, high pitched curse, hips twitching but unable to escape the near-punishing rhythm of his own. It’s obvious that your orgasm is close, but you can’t even warn him, too overwhelmed with pleasure. He kisses you, swallowing your moans that have probably become just a bit too loud given the whole hotel thing.

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you near the finish line for a change, open mouths slipping against each others in what is too messy to be called a kiss. Your orgasm body-slams you, a choked silent scream as you tighten around Spencer and he seems to come at nearly the exact same moment—deep inside you, slowly rolling his hips in a few more strong thrusts as he finishes.

You let out a delayed moan at the sensation of being filled up, still pulsing around him as he comes to a halt, buried inside of you. He drops his head to your neck, and you can feel each breath against your flushed skin. Other than the panting, you’re both silent for a while. Spencer seems to gather himself sooner than you do, finally breaking the quiet.

"You okay?"

All you can manage is a little squeak, at which he looses a breathy chuckle. His hand slides to your hip, gently stroking the skin with a thumb.

"Need your words, angel girl."

"I’m okay," you coo into his shoulder, but he has to strain to hear it above his own breathing.

"Yeah? Why so quiet?"

But it seems that at least for the moment, he’s gotten all the words he can out of you. When he tries to move, you whimper indignantly, clutching onto him tighter.

"I really did a number on you this time, huh?" He laughs when you nod into him. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Mhm," you hum dreamily, little puffs of warm air slowing against his neck.

"You can have…" he cranes his head to check the digital clock, "48 minutes."

"An hour."

He settles his weight on you once more, pressing a chaste kiss to your throat. His voice is low and gentle as he admonishes you.

"I said 48 minutes."

But it doesn’t matter—you’re already asleep, or close enough to it. Spencer takes the opportunity to shift you to your side, and the way you wrap around him like a vine even unconsciously makes his heart ache. He really should go now—the earlier he gets out of your room the less likely certain complications will arise—but how can he possibly leave you like this? A vulnerable, dreamy girl with tangled hair haloing around her on the pillow case, clinging to him with blind trust that he’ll watch over her as she sleeps? No—there’s no way he’s leaving yet. Instead, he brings you closer. 48 perfect minutes will go by far too quickly, he’s sure.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut

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seraphicsentences · 3 months ago

Text

all mine (pt.2)

closeted/in denial abby anderson x reader

pt.1: you told me your new man don’t make you nut, that’s a damn shame.

please click here!

tags: sub!abby, dom!reader, experienced!reader, mentions of owen, tbh trauma from owen, strap-on sex, cunnilingus, 69ing, dry humping, grinding, nonexplicit masturbation, lowkey voyeurism+exhibitionism ish? there’s plot i swear.

A/N: im well aware that i apologize in every post i make and that its redundant, but im still sorry that i took forever to write.

so. some of this may sound a little familiar from the first part, but it’s simply just drawing parallels between abby’s and your stances on one another.

this gets gradually worse and worse. i think the quality started landsliding once i reached the smut. enjoy!

it’s been near ‘round a week later, and abby’s avoiding you like the fucking devil. in fact— by the way she’s been acting, you think she might even believe so. she’s never felt so inexplicably thrown off. clickers, bloaters… couple of well-aimed shots and they’re no deal. but you? the ghost of your touches haunt her day and night. she’s like a woman possessed. and she’s insatiable.

her once weekly visits to the chapel have become daily: hour-long stays spent on her knees, prayers whispered hastily under her breath, eyes darting to paranoically try to catch potential eavesdroppers.

even owen, the air-headed asshole, has been left victim, or perhaps victor, to the effects of your actions. in a desperate attempt to ease her whirling mind, or rather, to ease the painful throbbing between her thighs, abby’s seemed to have turned to her boyfriend as a last ditch effort.

abby’s newfound flood of arousal, pooling and pleading, only to be met by owen’s two incher every night have had his ego blowing up fucking obnoxiously.

“god, abby, you’re fuckin’ desperate for my dick lately,” he’d gloat, hilariously blind to his girlfriend’s infidelity.

unfortunately for abby, her pathetic resorts have done nothing to quiet the moaning mess of guilt-filled memories. if anything, they’ve done quite the opposite.

she’s been left to the mercy of her palm, heel of it digging into her clit while she’s beside the sleeping figure of owen, straining every massive muscle in her body to give her that orgasm she so badly needs.

it’s to no avail, though. stuck gasping and tearing up against a pillow, her poor pussy crying for some semblance of relief. and what’s left is a week-long edged abby anderson, ms. “top soldier”, who’s back to shooting no better than a freshly new recruit.

what’s up with that, hm?

2am now, in the isolated west dormitory’s showers, and abby’s at it again. her body starving for your touch; your sinful, corrupting, addictive touch, and she’s failing to appease her needs once more.

“mmph- fuck, ah-please,” abby begs into her forearm, groaning as two thick fingers plunge deep into her sopping hole, thrusting in and out messily.

it’s exhausting to fuck the way you do. even with her arms the impressive size they are, it’s impossibly demanding to reach every nerve you had reached, filthy sounds echoing along the tile walls, taunting her.

abby knows what’s coming, or really, the lack of it.

skin pink from the heat of the water, she abandons her effort, shutting the stream off with a squeak and ventures the locker room to get dressed for the night.

her mind wanders to you— that’s all it ever seems to do as of recently, and she thinks about how she almost misses your antics. she can’t place her finger on what it is exactly about you that makes her chase every teasing interaction so masochistically.

maybe it’s your lopsided smile that lures her in, or that glint in your eye she gets caught up in. or maybe it’s just that she knows she shouldn’t want you, and it’s so deliciously wrong, and that’s why she’s got to have you.

towel flung over her shoulder, abby makes her way out, only to stop in her tracks when she hears the loud slam of a locker door.

what the fuck? wasn’t the bathroom empty when she last checked??

cheeks burning at the mistaking of her privacy, she swivels the corner, furious to see who the fuck else is using the west dorm showers at this hour. of all the hours.

and, well, abby’s frozen in place when she’s met with the sight of a mystery someone’s bare back. but oh, how she recognizes you, you and your wet hair, slinging droplets down your smooth skin, trailing lower and lower and-

you cough, breaking her trance. baby blue eyes dart up, caught, as you slide your tank on, smirking.

“hey, anderson.”

that just about does it for her. abby slams an open locker door shut, almost sprinting out of the room.

and really, there’s no choice but for you to follow her, practically hunting her down as she sharply turns down random hallways, clearly attempting to outrun you. abby makes a wrong turn soon enough, and you honestly think you might burst out into laughter because of the funny way fate seems to string the two of you together.

the blonde’s backed herself into a corner, and it just so happens to be your residential corner. you can’t help but wonder if she already knew where your room was located.

“scared, anderson?” slips out of your mouth, and it feels significant, reminiscent of the week before. you stare her down, wet strands clinging to her skin to match yours, and it’s like the two of you know what’s to come with your words. the inevitable.

you’re not sure which one of you moves first, rubber band of tension snapping as your lips collide in a catastrophic sort of way. you’re scrambling to blindly dial your dorm code in and tugging abby by her shirt in a tangle of limbs and saliva.

“i’ll play nice,” you pant, “even after that disappearing stunt you pulled last week.”

abby laughs, whispering, “whoops,” under her breath before pulling you in for another dizzying kiss, tongue eagerly curling into your mouth like she’s been waiting years for a taste.

you wrap your fingers around her hair with a tug, and the low groan that escapes from the back of abby’s throat has you repeating the motion again and again as you veer her backwards to fall atop your bed. you follow, straddling her, not wanting to spend a second apart from the fucking drug that her mouth is.

your hips grind down on their own, burning and desperate for stimulation. abby, in return, wraps a strong hand around your throat, pulling you even deeper into a sloppy kiss to swallow your moans as she pushes her hips up to meet yours.

“fuck,” you gasp, clit catching against the seam of your shorts with every roll.

abby’s mind has gone blurry with arousal, drunk off the satisfaction of finally getting what her body’s begged for. every pretty noise that slips out of your mouth sends pulses of pleasure straight through her bundle of nerves, and every touch of skin has her feeling set ablaze.

but as always, she needs more.

she maneuvers you easily under her big frame, your head tipping back in a soft whine as she latches herself onto your throat, biting and soothing your skin over.

she’s lodged a leg in between your own, mimicking your position as she wildly bucks her hips down onto you. “please,” she breathes out, tears welling in her eyes with how foreign this feeling is. she can’t bring herself to care about how needy she’s acting, because to starve, is to take anything.

“just like that, baby, you’re soaking my thigh,” you coo, continuing to dry hump her leg like she’s nothing but a toy to you. the whimper she lets out at the name you call her is downright criminal, and the way her movements pick up have you groaning it out again. “c’mon baby, make a mess of yourself for me,” you grab her meaty hips, grinding her harder down against you.

“gonna-“ she gasps into your neck, before shuddering against you as she cums with a cry, muscular thighs holding you so desperately tight in place. you almost scream, caught in the iron grip she has your body in, stopped so close to your own finish. you dig your nails into the flesh of abby’s hips, hearing her moan as the pain mixes with pleasure, and echo the sound yourself as the burning in your core starts up again.

“just let me, for a minute- i need you- just stay here, shit,” you ramble, gripping her hair for leverage while you fuck yourself faster against her thigh.

every twitch of a muscle beneath your soaked pussy has you reeling, unable to wrap your mind around what a massive fucking crime it is, for another woman not to have experienced the absolute blessing it is to have abby anderson’s defined-ass thigh to grind on.

you glance down at abby, and the fucked-out expression she has on, all watery doe-eyed as she peers up at you, mesmerized, has you throbbing enough to match your heart rate.

curse after curse flies out of your mouth as she attaches her mouth to your neck again, biting down as you let go of that coil tugging on your navel.

abby’s no sooner clambering atop you, diving in to taste your sounds as she scoops you onto her lap, practically growling, “fuckin’ get over here,” under her breath.

as your vision returns, she attacks your mouth with a sloppy kiss, colliding teeth, and you’re unbearably hungry for more.

“let me- i’m gonna taste you,” you breath out, shoving abby’s back down with a push.

she falls back with a soft thud, eyes not leaving you once. “please, fuck- taste me, have me,” abby affirms, scrambling to tug her shorts off.

the massive soaked patch at the center her boxers have your eyes rolling into your skull. “shit, anderson,” you run a finger over her clothed slit, giggling as she jerks her hips up.

“shut up,” she rasps, her words harsh, but the small smile on her face says otherwise.

you grin up at her, “didn’t say anything,” before licking a fat stripe up her covered pussy.

her response is immediate, hands fisting into your hair to pull your mouth closer, actions the epitome of more, more, more.

you flatten your tongue, licking, and meshing her arousal with your saliva to entirely soak her boxers wet. you wrap your lips around where you guess to be her clit, based off the place her legs tremble when your tongue reaches it, and suck hard.

“there,” abby whines out, back flying off the mattress, and you’re so very desperate to see what other fun reactions she has in store for you, you grab at her waistband to unveil her pretty dripping pussy.

up close, face to face, you get to really admire the work of art she is. the divets of muscle adorning her thighs frame her pussy almost in a greek-goddess sort of way. light brownish-blonde curls of hair that reach out to your mouth, trying to pull you in closer. she’s beautiful. you’re in complete control of her right now, and holding the reins of such an unreal being has you groaning into her slick eagerly, hands holding her spread wide open while you feast.

you’re dipping your tongue into her sopping mess, teasing and thrusting, feeling her gummy walls flutter around every brush of the muscle. you dart a thumb up to circle her puffy clit, red, from her earlier actions, and the way abby’s legs kick up— almost hitting you in the face, has you giggling again into her pussy. the vibrations of your laugh make abby squeal, thighs clamping around your head, and then she’s tugging at your hair, chanting, “stopstopstopstop,” and you, of course, oblige immediately.

your face comes up covered in her wetness, arousal dripping from your chin as you lick your lips in an halfhearted attempt to clean yourself up. “sorry, sorry, i- did you want me to stop?” you ramble, concerned that you might’ve gone a little too far this time, getting yourself involved with a taken straight girl.

abby’s face flushes a deep red, even darker than it had been from your actions, as she catches her breath and looks away. “no, i- can you, uhm.”

you catch on to her hesitation, newer to sex thats more than just, well, dick. you rub her calves soothingly, “use your words, baby, you got it.”

she visibly gulps, thighs pressing tight around your body, “can i?” she asks, almost sulkily as her hands move to tug at your shorts.

“oh-!” slips out of your mouth, surprised, “yeah, yeah you can.”

she lets out a soft okay, tugging harder now, slipping her calloused fingers under your waistband as well so as to drag both down together. abby’s groans, low and heady, at the sight of your glistening pussy, practically dripping down your thighs from just getting her off. “this too,” she murmurs, sliding your tank off before you can blink.

she’s pulling you in closer, as if she’s in a trance, as she wraps her lips hesitantly around one of your perked nipples. the high-pitched sigh you let out is more than enough encouragement for her to continue, warm tongue flicking at it as she sucks around your breast. “is this okay?” she pulls away to whisper, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she looks up at you, eyes wide.

“fuck- yes, just,” you push her head back in, her lips abiding immediately as they gently pull at your nipple, teeth grazing the most sensitive parts of your chest as you arch your back into it, quiet moans ringing in her air.

all of a sudden you’re being turned around, confused, until your hips are being lifted up towards abby’s stuck-out tongue and you’re shaking with your face pressed to her thigh while she experimentally kitten-licks around your hole, unknowingly teasing you.

her nose brushes ever-so-slightly over your pulsing clit as her tongue passes just over your dripping mess, and it has you crying out, “there, please- right there, please,” breath hot over her own throbbing pussy.

her hips jerk up at the sensation, and you take the hint— latching your lips around her own clit and stuffing two fingers easily into her hole, moaning at the feeling of her squeezing tight around you.

it’s no wonder abby’s the top soldier of wlf. for a girl who’s only ever been with the most lacking, vanilla man ever, she picks up fast. each action of yours is borderline self-serving, with the way abby’s mimicking every move not even a moment after, so adorably eager to please.

abby had this insistent need to pull every pretty sound from you, whether she got it through grazing her teeth against your clit, or curling a thick finger against your g-spot, she was determined to hear it— to the point where you thought she might’ve even needed it. and it’s what made sex with her so intoxicating.

she wasn’t like any of the other girls you typically hooked up with, and that’s not to say the girls you usually got with were bad to fuck… they just weren’t as invested in your pleasure as you were with theirs. and as the type to get off on giving rather than receiving, this was especially new. you’ve never been with someone like you. and god, does it take the cake.

abby’s really coming to terms with all the ways she can use her especially large everythings to make you feel good, murmuring into your pussy, “‘m fuckin’ splitting you open with my fingers, pretty,” as she pushes in a third finger to your sopping hole, relishing in the squelch that comes with the thrust.

your thighs shake around her head, stimulated beyond compare as you continue your ministrations on abby’s pussy, humming mhms into it to encourage more of her bolder ventures.

“mm-fuck, can feel you choking my fingers. you gonna cum, hm?” she mumbles cockily, the high from your reactions sending her mind into a frenzy.

“shit, please, need it so bad,” you croak out, taking only mere seconds apart from tonguing down her puffy clit.

“ah- god, me too, pretty. cum on my tongue,” she says, and the fucking vulgarity of it, so downright shocking to hear from ms. straight christian prude over here, has you riding your orgasm out, trembling heat overtaking your body like a california wildfire. matched moans come from beneath you, as abby’s hips fuck up against your mouth, legs flexing deliciously as the two of you reach your peaks together, the world slowing.

you slide your body off of hers, turning around to be met with a sight to behold. your cum, all over abby’s mouth, shining on the tip of her nose, remnants leaked onto her chin— and you have not a doubt you look the same mess. you yank her into a sloppy kiss, fluids mixing in your mouths in the most animalistic nature.

“i’m not done with you,” you say, eyebrows scrunched as you take in her fucked-out expression.

“i know,” she whispers, “give me more,” she breathes out.

abby slips out of her tank, finally, using the cloth to gently wipe your face and hers, action a bit too intimate for what you guys have, but neither of you decide to call out on it.

“you gonna let me fuck you?” you ask quietly, running a hand over her chest softly, enamored, as abby shivers from your words.

“please fuck me,” she whimpers, tone all pouty and petulant as she watches your hand trace ambiguous shapes over her skin.

“so polite,” you tease lightly, pulling her in for a brief kiss before reaching over to your bedside drawer and pulling out your favorite strap, just the one for the special girl in front of you.

8 inches, hot pink, with a slight curve to it, but most importantly, never been used on anyone other than yourself, by yourself.

“it’s so-“ she stutters nervously, thighs rubbing together in anticipation as you secure the toy onto your hips.

“pretty?” you finish, unable to help your laugh as she looks at you, so clearly not thinking of your response.

“yeah,” she shrugs, “suppose it is.”

it’s quiet in the room as you finish latching the silicone dick onto yourself, the two of you settling into the weight of your impulse-fueled actions.

you gently pull open her closed legs, settling yourself between them as you tease her entrance with the tip of the toy, covering it with her cum. you then spit down onto it, twisting your hand around to coat, and hear abby ask, “what’re you doing?”

you continue to prep the toy with easy motions, committed by memory, “i know you’re soaked, anderson, but it’s still a dick you’re taking, baby.”

“i just mean- i, you know,”

you hum, “owen doesn’t put in the effort, huh? and i bet you’re not even a quarter as wet for him as you are for me,” scoffing.

“don’t-“

“it’s the truth though, isn’t it?”

“…yeah.”

“that’s what i thought.”

you thumb her clit in circles, using her slick as lube to rub over it smoothly, relishing in the way abby’s head falls back and her hips jolt up. “that’s it, ease up for me,” you murmur.

you prod again at her entrance with the toy, sliding the tip in slightly as she hisses, “‘m sti-still sensitive.”

“and you’re gonna take it like the fuckin’ slut you are, anderson, aren’t you?” you tsk, pushing a couple inches more into her.

“shit- yes, yes ma’am,” she whimpers out, legs threatening to close from the new stretch.

“because even after all that time in the shower, nothing can fill you like i do,” you finish, thrusting the full length of you into her tight pussy, abby nodding repeatedly as her back arches up.

her moans pick up alongside your hips, voice breaking with every thrust as you push into that one sensitive spot deep inside with obvious expertise.

“so, s-so go-od,” she cries, hands gripping into the bedsheets as she searches for some tie back to reality.

you smirk satisfactorily, fast pace fueled by the sight of abby’s open mouth, drool spilling out the sides as her voice grows hoarse from constant use. you fuck her hard, strength channeled from the anger you bore against her homophobic attitudes, and jealousy you garnered towards owen and his idiotic male self.

you lock your eyes with abby, sweat dripping down your face as you zero down on her, slamming into her pussy with no reprieve. “no more owen,” you say, each word punctuated by another deep thrust.

“this is so wrong, this is so fucked,” abby rambles, nervous eyes darting around the room so as to avoid your gaze. her eyebrows are tugged together, head shaking no: but no to argue your words, or no to agree with them?

“has something so wrong ever felt so good?” you pant out, “tell me baby.”

“i can’t, i can’t, i can’t,” she repeats, torn between what felt right in her head, and what felt so right in her heart. “turn me over,” she babbled, not wanting to head-on face the fucking sin-filled act she was committing.

“you tried running, baby. and how’d that work for you?” you ask, fed up. “you’re still back here, a fucking mess, and all for me.”

“what’s it gonna take for you to face the fact that you’re getting fucked by a girl, and it’s so much better than anything you’ve ever experienced?”

abby’s eyes scrunch tight, trying to tune you out, but her moans still wrench out from the back of her throat, guttural and unstoppable.

you slide out finally, earning you a soft whine of disagreement, toy dripping with her slick with the tip pressed against her folds. “look at me, abby.”

and fuck. she’s never taken notice to the fact that you’ve never said her name before—but god does it sound so pretty coming out of your mouth. and god is it enough to make her wrestle her eyelids open and stare you dead in the eyes, blue clashing with the darkness you reeked in.

“say that again,” she whispers, look full of pleading. 4 letters, 2 syllables, but it has her core tensing and her heart racing a mile.

“tell me you’re mine, abby,” you breath, and she almost finishes right there and then.

“i’m yours,” she says, a single tear breaking free from her right eye, baptizing her skin, absolving her of guilt.

“good,” you choke out, bottoming entirely into her as she releases a cry. your movements quicken, ravenous, chasing the sweet whines that fill the room.

abby’s tits bounce with each thrust, and you reach down to give her sensitive nipples a pinch, making her reach an all time new height of pleasure. her chest heaves, curses slur, as she squirms under your touch, nearing an unbearably overstimulated state.

“feels- gonna cum,” she moans, barely holding on.

“cum for me,” you demand, needing to see her fall apart now more than ever as you pound into her harder, fingers rubbing harsh circles into her clit.

“s-shit,” she gasps, throwing her head back as her walls tighten around the toy, “‘m- fuck, god- fuck! ‘m cumming!”

loud squelching noises overtake the room, complete with the sight of abby writhing beneath you as spurts of her juices drench your moving cock.

her chest heaves, mouth open in a silent scream as she comes down from her high, squirming with overstimulation.

you can see the moment her brain clicks, panic in her eyes clear as her skin turns pasty white.

“i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to do that i don’t know how-“

“abby.”

“-that happened ive never done that before, like who-“

“abby.”

“-fucking pisses on someone like that i’m so sorry ill clean it-“

“ABBY.”

her eyes shoot up to meet yours, frame cowering as she mumbles a quiet apology again, so obviously uneducated in the realm of half-decent orgasms.

“you squirted, abby, you didn’t piss on me for christ’s sake. it was hot. now don’t worry about it, i’m very honored,” you chide lightly, cradling abby’s heated face in your hand.

you stand up, grabbing a clean towel and wetting it with warm water from your kettle. striding over, you spread abby’s legs lightly, running the towel gently over her worked-out center, breath hitching, hips jerking with your touch.

“why are you- you don’t have to-“ abby stutters, grabbing your wrist.

you pause, confused. “abby, i’m not a fucking dick, contrary to belief,” you scoff.

she doesn’t let go. “no that’s not what i- i didn’t mean it like that, it’s just, you know.” she waits for you to look up at her, before looking away. “you don’t have to fuss over me.”

a laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “you mean owen doesn’t-? yeah, who am i kidding, of fucking course he doesn’t ‘do aftercare,’ god, what a dick!” you groan, facepalming.

“abby, baby, this is fucking normal. owen just sucks,” you smirk, her cheeks flushing at your words. “let me take care of you,” you continue more softly, nudging her grip off as you drag the towel over her sternum next, cleaning off any remnants left from the two of you.

abby’s quiet now, eyes following your every movement, curious almost, a bit hesitant— as if she’s not sure what to do with herself in the meanwhile. she’s stiff to the touch, frame shrunken now due to the sheer vulnerability of it all. bare as the day she was born, and touched like she’s never done wrong a minute in her life.

she doesn’t know how to feel about it. wisps of hair tickle her nose, and so she scratches it, pushing her hair away, tugging it behind her ears. and you’re right there on it, wordlessly turning her around as you begin to comb through her hair loosely, pulling it into a simple braid. the same hairstyle she displays everyday, always done by her own hand: tight, knot-free, and burning into her scalp. a reminder to remain true to her virtues, live by strict rules, and not stray from the lord’s path.

but the way you braid is so different. you’re careful to tie in the tickling wisps, but not harsh. effective, but not pushing. with owen she feels like an accessory, but you make her feel like someone worth worshipping. and so, the only burning she feels is not on her scalp, but behind her eyes.

you do notice the subtle tremble in abby’s shoulders, droplets trickling down her cheeks as you weave her hair through, but you make no comment on it. certainly not with the way your own hands fumble her golden strands, fingers shaking into the knots. you tie the end of it up.

“i should go,” abby whispers, standing to grab her scattered clothes.

you remain seated, mouth opening and closing like a fish, as your lips struggle to wrap around the words your heart is singing out for.

you settle on one.

“stay,” you blurt, louder than you intended, the word ringing in the tense air.

abby freezes, hand outstretched towards her tossed shirt. her head edged just the slightest bit towards you, like subconsciously, she was waiting for you to say something.

“just- stay,” you whisper this time, more unsure. waiting for the rejection you know is to come. and while your brain is screaming for you to let her go, your eyes are hooked onto abby’s figure— searching intently for the smallest signal of her response.

you see her breath catch in her throat.

“okay,” she whispers back, and her head turns just enough for your gazes to lock, matched desperation surging.

she’s drawn back to the bed like a magnet pulled to its twin, the mattress dipping as she settles in the space beside you.

and abby feels the heat of your drilling stare, one she refuses to return. she has no more fire left in her, not for you, just contemplation. a longing for more, an urge to savor, an ache to feel.

so abby faces the door, and you face her back, waiting for the day she’ll turn around.

so what did we think guys?!?? this was 4.7k words. crazy.

ok. so notice the tear coming from her right eye during that whole end part of the sex. note that it came from her RIGHT eye. scientifically speaking, that’s a tear of joy. BOOOOOOM MIC DROP.

i, unfortunately, shot for the stars and tried to make this deeper. hard to do that when you’re not in touch with your emotions. so now you guys are stuck being confused. good luck!

anyways. the final scene is supposed to represent where they metaphorically stand in their relationship. reader is trying to bond with abby, or at least making an effort to, hence her facing abby. abby can’t come to terms with all this, but she’s trying! she’s not fully accepted the homosexual part of herself though, the side that comes out with reader, so she’s facing the door. FACING IT, not leaving through it. ;)

also, yes, owen goes in dry. it’s canon. do not come at me.

taglist:

@pricefieldsuperiority @heartlexs @graviewaviee @liaphrodite @k1ngpin42 @deadbolted @be3flow3r @mrsabbyanderson

@rob1nbuckl3ys @vivispace @bookpagecandlescent

@thelosstvalkyrie for photo creds ty baby <3

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