#I just wanted more to big mouse I guess | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jj-one · 27 days

Text

MIND GAMES ⋅˚₊ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ pairing ꒱ ˒˓ bf!Jungkook x gf!reader ˒˓ established relationship genre/tags. smut, v small amount of angst, fluff, thigh riding, face sitting, body worshipping, jk lowkey simping hella hard in this & we love to see it <3 words. 1.4k

**old repost from my deleted blog

“Can you stop ignoring me please? It's driving me crazy.” You whine to your nonchalant boyfriend, urging him to mutter at least one word.

He has been giving you the silent treatment since this morning. You and Jungkook got into a petty argument that could've been easily resolved within seconds had he not just stormed out mid-convo.

Rightfully so— you were upset by him not wanting to talk things out and he got all defensive by saying you were ‘overreacting’. The bickering only spiraled from there and once you realized you had to leave for work you left without even saying goodbye.

You felt bad for not at least giving a peck on the cheek but you were slightly annoyed by how immature he could be at times. Once you came back home, you wanted to talk with him immediately to patch things up yet he's still being difficult with you. His silence was speaking mere volumes.

“So you're really going to play that game now huh? You know you can't ignore me forever Kook.” You snicker, all those pent up emotions filling you with an intense longing for him. “Can you say something?”

Jungkook remained quiet as a mouse, still refusing to speak, just sitting there examining you. Taking all of you in, basking in his own little glory. He wasn't trying to ignore you at first but now it has turned into a game for him. His only goal was seeing how far he could push your buttons until you break.

There was nothing more frustrating than craving someone's affection. His affection. Usually he'd give it to you on a silver platter, spoiling you with all the love and attention he could provide. But today — you were gonna have to work for it, and that you did.

Since talking wasn't the solution you try your best guess and think of something else. That's when an evil plan struck your mind — you were going to get a word of out him one way or another.

You were still wearing your work clothes so you strip naked right in front him, taking off every piece of clothing to only leave you in your panties. He tried to make it not so obvious that he was staring but you could feel his eyes on you the whole time. Still quiet, he looks up at you with his big, brown doe eyes — glancing over every inch of your bare form.

Licking his lips while leaning back on the couch he takes in all of you, losing himself in your alluring gaze. As much as he wanted to believe he had all the control in this situation, you played a deafening role in making sure this won't be an easy win for him.

As soon as you fully undressed you make your way over to Jungkook, subtly swaying your hips to send a rise out of him. Walking up to your boyfriend you find yourself straddling his thighs between your legs, the bitter silence only creating a thicker tension. His face looked so innocent, you couldn't help but go in to kiss him. Grabbing the side of his face to pull him in for a sweet, sensual kiss, molding your lips to match his hungry movement.

He was passionate with the kiss — almost leaving you winded by the end. You could tell that he's been holding that in since this morning, you couldn't open your eyes afterwards, savoring in the taste of him on your tongue.

“I'm an asshole, sorry y/n. I don't know why I do the things I do sometimes… but l'm thankful I have someone as patient as you in my life.” Jungkook finally spoke, his gentle tone brings you a familiar source of comfort.

Heated make outs turned you both into even more dangerous territory. A constant rush of heat surges throughout your body, leading all the way down to your aching core, you swung your head back in pleasure while riding your boyfriend's pretty, muscular thighs. The light-blue distressed jeans he wore showing just the slightest bit of skin to make you go feral. The weak, sweaty kisses in between rutting against him — the friction of his jeans grazing over your clothed heat, making you feverishly whimper out for him.

Jungkook couldn't keep his hands off you if he tried. Everything about you is absolutely stunning and perfect to him. His hands dance along the perimeters of your body, tracing every line and curve of your heavenly beauty — embarking on the notion that you are all his. He needs to show how grateful and lucky he is to have you more often.

“God... need you so bad right now..I don't wanna waste another second without having my cock inside you.” He keens, migrating his lips up the side of your earlobe.

He's going to have to put in the work to get a reward like that though.

“I want you to eat me out then we can talk later.” You boldly counter, not even giving him an option at this point.

His face lights up with an idea, “Wanna sit on my face princess?” You nod right away, letting Jungkook maneuver you to the side so he could lye down comfortably — he looks up at you with wandering eyes as you go in for another kiss. He hums into the kiss, moving his hands to grab your ass. It's beginning to become too unbearable to keep your panties on.

Breaking the kiss to remove your soaked underwear, you toss them on the floor and meet your boyfriend's handsome face once again.

The anticipation was killing him, he couldn't wait to devour your pretty little pussy already ;( As soon as you positioned yourself below him, he held onto your thighs with both hands — making eye contact with you as he pressed a kiss to your swollen bud.

Any minor touch to your clit makes you overtly sensitive, letting out a tiny mewl from the light action. His lips part open to dip his tongue into your wetness, “mmmh... fuck Koo” you hiss, already needing to brace yourself to not cum early. His mouth always works magic on you, leaving you with an earth-shattering orgasm every single time.

He flattens his tongue completely now, dragging a long stripe across your slit, drinking up all your essence, letting none of you go to waste. His face was so deeply buried into you all you could see now was the top of his head — grabbing a fistful of his messy hair to pull on later. You rock your hips back and forth to build more movement, grinding on his face while not having a care in the world if he could breathe or not.

From the looks of it, there were no complications on his end since he started moaning against you — the vibrations sending instant chills to your spine. You feel his nose brush up against your bundle of nerves, his tongue appears again to spread it’s brutal attack on your clit. His warmth on the sensitive sprout makes you jut your hips into a hastier motion.

“Shit... keep going just like that…i'll cum all over your face,” you cry out, feeling yourself close to making a huge mess and creaming all over his face.

“Cum on my face please, my precious little doll.” He only breaks away to say that quickly and attaches hisself back instantly.

Those words did it for you, it was like ultimate green light to reaching your climax. Two digits enter your weeping cunt and his tongue goes back to sucking on your puffy abused clit — the knot in your stomach tightens as he produces sloppier licks to your leaking folds.

A lusty, guttural moan escaped your lips, screaming your boyfriend's name at the top of your lungs. Jungkook keeps your hips steady with a tight grasp to help ride out your intense high; his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping. His face saturated with the glint of your sweet nectar, he licks his lips and savors the delicious taste of you, there's nothing that'll ever compare.

"So beautiful my baby.. so fucking gorgeous.." he chants under his breath, kissing the apex of your thighs. He'll never get tired of admiring your pretty body— or you in general.

Jungkook has always been more of a giver than a receiver, he likes to watch his partner writhe under him, loves when they cry and violently shake while he's giving them the most pleasurable moments of their life. He also likes to get what he wants in the end but that isn't always needed for him to be satisfied. He'll get his nut eventually, but in the meantime he's going to keep playing with you some more.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook drabble #jungkook drabbles #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #bts smut

1K notes · View notes

lowkeyremi · 4 days

Text

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 !

pairing: suna, tsukishima, ushijima, osamu, sakusa, and iwaizumi x fem!reader (separate) note: thank you for the request @nicoleisdumb ! this was so fun to write and a nice refreshing break from jjk :3 miss writing abt these boys. summary: You forgot date night ! Oops... now your man is ignoring you?? How are you gonna fix this? content: slight angst to fluff, established relationships (marriage for a few, hehehehehe I will always find a way to sneak babies in), cursing, kinda suggestive for kiyoomi's part. not proofread!!!! wc: 3.3k

❥ 𝐑. 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐀

Rintaro is not one to usually get upset when you forget things because you're human just as he is and he forgets things all the time. He forgets his keys at home sometimes, or his wallet, sometimes he forgets his birthday, etc. (never his phone, he always has that thing).

There has never been a day that he's forgotten a date or an anniversary to your surprise. Lately, though, work has consumed both you and your boyfriend. He was handling it better though, because when you'd get home you would immediately collapse onto the bed and fall asleep. Rintaro would make sure to change you into something more comfortable and at least clean your face with a warm, wet cloth and your face wash.

Today was no different from any others. As soon as you remove your shoes and lay in the bed, all of your problems don't matter anymore. It was only around 7 pm then.

The morning had arrived in a blur. Finally, you had a day off. This morning is off though, because you don't wake up with a set of pajamas on or Rin's t-shirt. That was your first clue to something being off.

The second clue was the fact that he is not in bed. Rin doesn't get up out of bed unless he absolutely has to. Usually, he's holding you captive in his arms. Before you investigate, you take the initiative to shower and brush your teeth. When you're in a fresh pair of clothes; a tank top and shorts, you slowly make your way into the living room, sleep still in your body.

A brown tuft of hair sticks out from under your mickey mouse blanket and a body way too big for the couch is curled up on it. Why is he sleeping on the couch?

"Rin, baby, why are you on the couch?" Silence. He's awake, you know it because of the sound from his phone that's muffled by the blanket. Is he ignoring you? There's no way... he must not have heard you.

So you speak up in case he didn't hear you the first time, "Morning, Rin!"

Still nothing. He doesn't even move. What is his problem? Your mood instantly deflates into something sour. There was a hope within you that you would finally get to spend time with him today. Be it cuddles or going out.

Since he's not talking to you, you'll just decide to make breakfast in order to pass the time and fill the silence. While breakfast is being made you try to think of things you could have possibly done to upset him.

Then it suddenly clicks... you wanted to go out with him today. He had planned to take you out yesterday. That had to be it, right?

"Rinnie was yesterday date night? I'm sorry for forgetting. I think you had tickets for something? I feel so fucking bad, baby." Sleep had instantly taken you last night that you forgot to set an alarm or something so you could remember date night.

He still didn't say anything, but he did get up from the couch to get some food. His gold eyes were cold and unforgiving.

"Rintaro. I'm really sorry. I guess my body got used to going to sleep right when I got home. I didn't even check to see if we were doing anything yesterday. I'll make it up to you, we can go out tonight?"

He's not mad at you, not anymore at least. Even though he's not mad at you, he kind of wanted to be. It's hard for him to be upset with you for too long.

"Don't fall asleep this time, sleepyhead." That familiar smile that you know so well appears on his face. It causes you to smile just as wide if not wider.

In seconds your arms are wrapped around him in a loving hug. "I won't fall asleep. Promise."

❥ 𝐊. 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀

Kei is mean and petty about it. Date night is usually something simple like Netflix and some homemade snacks or something of the sorts. Mainly because the two of you like to stay in rather than go out.

He texted you asking where you were, only for you to reply that there was some old close friend of yours visiting town, so you decided to hang out with them.

When you got home late into the night, it was a little too quiet for you. Kei is probably asleep or playing on his play station, you assume. So, without even knowing that your boyfriend is upset, you go through your whole nightly routine.

Upon entering your bedroom you see his body lying in bed, his chest rising and falling every second. "I'm home." Leaves your lips in a whisper. There is no response so you assume he's asleep.

Halfway through the night you can't sleep, at all. It's probably because your boyfriend's comforting hands aren't wrapped around you, like usual.

You softly nudge your boyfriend's side trying to ease him awake, "Kei."

After a few more tries he finally startles awake, "what?"

"I can't sleep." You whine, "I need you to hug me."

"Shoulda' thought 'bout that before you went off with your friend instead of having date night." His tone is sour, from both being woken up and from you forgetting date night.

A small gasp leaves your lips, suddenly the conversation you two had a week prior to last night floods your brain. You weren't working that day and neither was Kei, which meant you guys could have your annual movie marathon.

"I'm sorry baby, I completely forgot..." He doesn't say anything to you and you can't tell what he's thinking because his back is facing you.

With a new spring of motivation you hop out of bed to make some of your favorite movie snacks and grab your laptop, before heading back to your bedroom.

"How about a redo?" Kei turns his body to look at you, he eyes the snacks and your computer. How could he stay mad at you?

"Hurry up before I change my mind." A huge cat-like grin adorns your pretty face.

❥ 𝐖. 𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀

"Daddy, why red circle?" Your little son Nao asks looking at the calendar on the fridge.

"Mommy and Daddy were supposed to go out tonight, but work called Mommy and asked her to come." Wakatoshi explains to his three year old.

The original plan was for Nao's nanny to come a little early because Wakatoshi finally had time off of work and so did you. When she came to take care of your son you two were going to go to dinner and see this new jazz group.

Wakatoshi had only told his son part of the truth, you did have to suddenly go to work but it wasn't because they called you in, it was because you requested to work late, so you could have more time off in the future.

The only reason he sugar-coded it was, because he would never want to paint you in a bad light.

The both of you have enough to support the household and live a steady life so he has no idea why you decided to go into work tonight. It seems you'd even forgotten that you were supposed to go out on a date with him tonight.

"Mommy not gettin' dinner with you?" He asks for clarity.

"Yeah, that's right." He gives the little guy a pat to the head.

"So it's just you and me. After bath time and dinner we can do something fun like watch a movie."

"We watch Dootopa?" He asks with a beaming smile on his face.

"You wanna watch Zootopia?"

"Yes yes!!!" That is his all time favorite movie. Flash the sloth is his favorite character next to Judy Hopps.

"Okay, well lets hurry up and get bath time and dinner time over with."

When you arrive home, your two favorite boys are fast asleep on the couch. You make the assumption they've been watching movies all night because Toy Story 2 is playing and neither are awake to watch it.

Nao is curled up in his father's lap, while Wakatoshi's hand is supporting him in case he falls.

You pick the sleeping little boy up in order to take him to his bed. Wakatoshi ever the light sleeper awakes when you remove Nao from his lap.

Instead of smiling and kissing you goodnight he turns the TV off and proceeds to walk straight to your shared bedroom without a word.

You quickly place your son down in his bed kissing him goodnight. You know why he's upset with you and there's an eagerness for you to fix it.

"I totally forgot about dinner, honey, I'm sorry." Those words leave your lips as soon as you enter your bedroom.

Your hurry to change into something more comfortable so you can join him in bed.

"Don't be mad 'Toshi." He grunts, his back is turned to you, so who knows what he's thinking.

Luckily for you he tends to not hold grudges.

"I'll get us a reservation at your favorite place," desperation seeps into your voice when he still doesn't answer you, "I really feel dumb for calling into work today, please cut me a break baby-"

"You aren't dumb, by any means, and I'm not mad. I'm confused." That's when you remember that Wakatoshi doesn't usually ignore you when he's upset about something.

The reason he doesn't say anything is usually because he's thinking.

You wait for him to tell you why he's confused and as you do so you sink into bed. At the point he turns over to see your face.

"I'm confused as to why you needed to work late when you already have so many days off."

"Well- I was hoping the three of us could go on vacation this summer, if the team doesn't require you to do your workouts there." His confusion is replaced with awe.

"Just ask them for days off, if they dock your pay it won't matter. We have enough to live comfortably, I promise." It feels good to finally have your man looking into your eyes again. A relieved sigh leaves your lips.

❥ 𝐎. 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀

"Forgettin' something?" Your husband asks right before you walk out the door to go to your best friend's baby shower. He's leaning against the door frame, his huge arms flex when he goes to cross them over his equally large chest.

Is there something you're forgetting? Nothing rings a bell, so you assume he means you're about to forget to kiss him goodbye.

You lean into kiss him and he kisses you back of course, but there's still a pout on his face and he doesn't look satisfied.

"I love you, 'Samu! I gotta get going before I'm late!" So you forgot about it. You forgot that tonight Osamu was supposed to take you to the shop and fix up a nice dinner for you two at your favorite table. He'd serve your favorite wine and you two would talk about the stupidest things into the early hours of the morning. He even closed early for tonight.

I mean, he can't blame you, your best friend of a lifetime is having a baby shower, and of course she wants you there. It would have made him feel a little bit better if you at least remembered it, but you didn't.

Osamu wouldn't be a Miya if he wasn't at least a little bit petty about it. He's decided he'll ignore you until you figure out that you'd forgotten about your date tonight. Maybe if he's not too sour he'll make dinner for you.

The petty man in question has been watching the clock for the past twenty minutes. You were supposed to be home by now, because it's already 8:45 pm. The baby shower started at 6 and ended at 7, so, where are you?

Just as he asks himself that question, the telltale sound of keys on the other end of the door snaps him out of his trance.

"Hey baby, I'm back!" The door swings open and your pretty face greets him.

He doesn't say anything back to you, he just pretends to be busy on his phone.

"Sorry I got back so late, I stayed to help her clean everything up." Your eyes watch your husband carefully, checking for any sign of him being upset, because he doesn't say anything yet again.

"What's wrong, 'Samu?" Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He's definitely mad, now you just need to figure out why.

After a quick change into your slippers and your keys are on the rack you walk up to him, giving him a hug from behind. You rest your chin on his shoulder. He's scrolling through twitter, his personal one not the one for promoting the shop.

"Why are you sulking? You're acting like your brother." Osamu accepts his fate, you know he can't ignore you when you compare him to his brother.

"Do not compare me to that oversized baby." When he hears your beautiful laugh he almost forgets why he was upset, almost.

"Did I not tell ya that ya were forgettin' somethin' before ya left?" The question in his voice makes you think for a second.

"Was it not a kiss?" He shakes his head. Now you're completely lost.

"I was 'posed to take ya down to the shop and we were gonna eat at our table." When he finishes his sentence you gasp in remembrance. Oh shit. You forgot about date night.

"Baby, you can't possibly be telling me I had to choose you or her." He stiffens for a brief moment, then relaxes.

"Nah, I was just hoping ya'd at least remember it." A shudder rolls down his spine when you give him a small kiss on the neck.

"I'm sorry for forgetting, baby. Let's have a do ov-" Osamu doesn't allow you to finish because he scoops you up bridal style and brings you into the kitchen to set you down on the counter.

"Ya better watch me cook or I won't forgive you."

"Aye aye captian!"

"Yer so annoying." He smiles at you.

❥ 𝐊. 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀

"Bye baby! Mama and Dada love you!" Your baby girl waves at you shyly as you and Kiyoomi drop her off with her grandparents.

"I wuv you too! Bye bye Mama, bye bye Dada." Kiyoomi hugs his daughter tightly before setting her down next to her grandma.

"Alright, sweet girl, make sure to be good for nana and poppa okay?" She nods her adorable little head, the tiny ponytails you put in her hair swing rapidly.

As soon as you guys are in the car, a look of excitement flashes in your husband's eyes.

"What?" You can't help smile when he looks at you like that.

"Made us that reservation for brunch like you asked." Your smile immediately drops. You'd forgotten that you and Kiyoomi planned this whole weekend out already. You two had planned this weekend two weeks prior, which is kind of why you forgot and booked a mani-pedi for an hour from now.

"Fuckkkkk." Why do you forget the most important things?

"Kiyo, can we do dinner instead? I forgot about brunch and booked a mani-pedi because today is the only day my nail lady could fit me in."

A tension forms almost immediately when you inform him of your plans. Guilt is heavy on your stomach while listening to your husband cancel brunch over the phone. The rest of the car ride is silent except for the sound that's happening outside of the car.

Your husband is kind enough to drop you off at your nail appointment. You feel so bad as you hop out of the car, so in order to try and smooth things over you offer for him to come inside but he just mumbles a quick, "No thank you, I'll come get you when it's done."

That's how you ended up spilling everything to your nail lady. She shakes her head as she shapes the gel nails into the shape you asked for. "What's his favorite color on you, sweetheart?"

You think for a second before answering, "He loves when I get sage green." The woman gives you a knowing smile and you connect the dots as to what she's referring to.

"You want him to feel better? Take him to dinner and then give him a night to remember with those pretty nails. Works every time with my husband." She says with a mischievous smile.

Your eyes widen for a second, "Oh my- I- we haven't had time to do anything because our little girl requires most of our time, but she's with her grandparents for the weekend."

The nail lady giggles as she goes to find your color. "Honey, if that's not a sign to get laid then I don't know what is!"

When your appointment is over you see the cadillac waiting for you in the parking lot. Kiyoomi doesn't even bother to look up when you enter the car.

"Got your favorite color." You purr with a seductive smile on your face. Kiyoomi doesn't spare you a glance, "Cool."

"Stop being so mean, I'm sorry about brunch. I made a reservation for dinner." That finally baits his attention, he turns to you, a nasty look in his eyes.

"Oh I actually think I'm going to be busy, can't go to dinner." He mocks your voice to make you feel what he had felt earlier. He's being mean, but he doesn't mean it. He still kind of has this habit of getting defensive when he or his pride is hurt.

"Too busy to get a blowjob in the car after dinner?" You know you've got him when he stops breathing for a few seconds. Your husband is only a man, and what kind of man would he be to deny a blowjob from his wife?

"Shit, should have started with that. Let me see your nails." The whole time he inspects your pretty hands there's a smirk on your face.

"I love this color on you baby."

"I know you do Kiyo. Now, let's get home, we have to get ready for dinner tonight."

Having your daughter stay with her grandparents for the weekend was the best decision you guys have made in a while.

❥ 𝐇. 𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈

Hajime has been ignoring you for the past two hours and you can't figure out why.

You know you haven't done anything to piss him off recently (or so you think), so his behavior is kind of strange. Nothing you did made him listen to you either.

He doesn't even let you know he's leaving for work, which reminds you of yesterday. You were so excited to go see your cousin's puppy you'd forgotten to tell your boyfriend you'd be out for awhile.

Suddenly while you're tidying up the kitchen you briefly remember him asking you on a date... yesterday.

That's probably why he's ignoring you.

So of course, being the problem solver you are, you head to the store to get stuff to set up a nice date at home.

You decorate the table with pretty rose petals and cook his favorite meal for him. Candles light up the table and two glasses of wine are set on the table.

Hajime lets out a loud groan as he enters the house, working with a bunch of athletes all the time is quite tiring. What he doesn't expect is the dimmed lights and quiet music playing from the alexa in the kitchen.

For the first time today he talks to you, "What's all this?"

"An apology for forgetting our date last night. I set up an at home date for us." He tries and fails to look upset, still.

"I'm glad you remembered," he pauses, "the day after our date." A snort leaves his lips and you roll your eyes.

"At least I remembered. Hurry up and put your stuff up so we can eat. The food is gonna get cold."

It's safe to say he forgives with the way a lopsided grin adorns his face.

divider: @/chachachannah

599 notes · View notes

loganlermanstanaccount · 9 months

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 4)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

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

Part 3, Part 5

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

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

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

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

Join my taglists here

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

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

lips black and blue and gold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…the woman. She looks like you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"...Should be okay now."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

"...what does that even mean?"

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

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

You shrug. "I thought it was interesting."

"Seriously?"

"...no, not really."

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

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

"Lyla? Could you let us up?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Let it go, that's enough now–]

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

"Can you just fucking open the–"

"What's the magic word?"

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

"Magic. Word."

He mumbles. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please could you open the fucking door."

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't sound- "

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

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

[you're a dipshit, Parker]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wait, Miguel, I need my-"

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

"Um, we should… we should go."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's not–"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Miguel?"

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

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

You squint. "No. Not really."

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

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

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

"Are you even listening to me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel quirks up an eyebrow, amused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. "How would you know?"

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

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

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

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

"You look like a painting."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A-Ahi, ahi–"

[t-there, there–]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And you've got that 9am."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1K notes · View notes

kedreeva · 3 months

Text

Actually had mice to take to a reptile expo for the first time in MONTHS (between selling out immediately after listing any mice and taking my end-of-year break, I simply haven't had enough mice to make it worthwhile to bring them since last summer!), and had a blast again. It seems like every time I bring them, there's never a single second where there's not someone at my table.

It's very funny to me that I have to put out a sign that says "these are PETS not feeders" and how often someone starts to walk by, sees the sign, and comes over. I actually have a whole Display Sign that has info about my mice, why they are different, how to handle them, and like a dozen photos of some of the beautiful mice I've had, and I catch people stopping to actually read it, too. The font is pretty big, but it's juuuust small enough they have to come a little closer, close enough I can hold a mouse out to them.

I've also learned that people don't always believe me when I say the mouse won't bite or jump off their hand. I see the tension, I see the anxiety. I tell them, they've been bred for this. I have told people, I will pay you $5 if this mouse bites you, I'm that confident, because I wouldn't bring them if I thought they might. But the only thing that really gets through to some people is to just plain show them. Close my fist around them (gently, but firmly enough I can flip them upside down securely), scrub them up, smoosh my face to them, rub a finger on their cheek/jaw/mouth. Nothing happens. At worst the mouse is lightly inconvenienced for a moment. But the transformation that comes over the people who see it is complete and instant. A visual "oh." moment. They relax completely, which makes their handling experience so much better. People straight terrified to hold a mouse in the first place hold out their hands for one. Small children who said no thank you (which I always respect, I have even told parents no, it's okay if they don't want to hold one, we have to respect their no thank yous too) will often ask if actually, can they can hold one?

I had one little girl who held a mouse that was a little squirmy at first because the girl was holding just a liiiittle too tight, and she was having trouble for a few seconds, but I kept an eye on her in case I needed to intervene, and she quickly figured out to be more gentle, and the mouse quickly figured out she was fine actually, and she ended up flopping down in this girl's hand and getting her face and head rubbed while she bruxed for like twenty minutes. I was surprised she didn't go home with a mouse, but I have a feeling I may see her family again.

I also had some guy ask if I wanted to be on his reptile podcast, for the mice, because he never knew there could be a difference between feeder mice and other mice. So I guess we'll see!

#expos #mice #my pets #personal #longfeather lane #I also had some guy pick up a business card and go “longfeather lane? I take it you breed peafowl”#like the photos of peacocks on my brochures and the peacock logo didn't give it away?

367 notes · View notes

disneyprincemuke · 5 months

Text

orange pulp * fem!driver

(series masterlist) | (📂 a day in the life)

logan raises his eyebrow, spoon in his mouth as oscar walks back into the kitchen with the carton of orange juice in his hand and a cup in the other. shortly after, she walks in, starting to go on a rampage about the orange juice in question.

"seriously! you've known me for how long?"

"obviously not long enough," oscar mutters, throwing logan a side glance, and opening a drawer to look for something. "i'm sorry, i just like the orange juice with pulp. i forgot that we don't share the same taste."

"what exactly is going on?" logan finally asks, swallowing the last of his cereal as his two friends continue to argue in his kitchen. "no arguing in my kitchen, please."

"this is my kitchen. you moved into my apartment with me," she scolds logan before turning away to continue scolding oscar again. "i just wanted orange juice without the pulp!"

"yes, and here i am delivering it to you!" oscar says, pulling the strainer out of her drawer. "please, the things i do for you should be considered slavery! this is outrageous! i'm telling lily."

"so you're draining the orange juice of its pulp to give her pulpless juice?" logan asks, slowly coming to a realisation of what all the fuss is about. he looks at her. "wow, you've grown to be quite the diva."

she folds her arms over her chest and shoots him an unamused stare. "i just wanted orange juice."

"you could have drained that by yourself," logan says to her, walking past her to put his bowl in the sink. "come on. be serious."

"which, he wouldn't have to be doing if he just got me the correct type of orange juice!" she insists, looking over oscar's arm to see if he is, in fact, draining the juice of the pulp.

"i don't understand why you're screaming at me. this orange juice came from your fridge!" oscar says, realising how quick it was of him to get the juice for her. "so you should be screaming at logan for getting the wrong type! not me!"

"you got me the wrong orange juice?" she shrieks, turning to logan in disbelief. "logan!"

"you should've just gotten your own groceries if it's such a big deal," logan shrugs, pressing his lips together as he tries to walk out of the kitchen. it's way too early in the morning to be dealing with all this fighting.

"i do get my own groceries - you're just always outside more than i am!"

"okay, enough yapping. drink the orange juice," oscar sighs tiredly, shoving the cup into her chest. he watches her sip on it cautiously, obviously second-guessing his effort to drain the drink. "all better?"

she nods slightly, putting the cup down. noticing logan trying to exit the kitchen, she chases after him and jumps onto his back. logan, stumbling a couple of steps forward, instinctively reaches back to support her weight. "you got me the wrong juice!"

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1@megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie

#vettel reincarnate #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke vr #female driver #f1 female driver #fem!driver #f1 fem!driver

427 notes · View notes

livlaughloveluke · 6 months

Text

𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫- 𝐞.𝐥

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your usually bright and bubbly self snaps when you hear people talking bad about your boyfriend

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, one slap LMAO 😥, people are very mean in this :(

(loosely) based off this request: Just dorky shy ethan x sweet bubbly (maybe popular??) reader from @wonderstruck4llthew4yhome

𝐚/𝐧: two posts within the same day?!? also i only kinda followed the request but i think its similar! hope you guys like this one! 💘

you had just finished drawing a nose and whiskers with bright eyeshadow, when your phone lit up. you picked your it up, to see that ethan had texted you. you smiled and unlocked your phone to open the message.

ethan 💗

hey im omw

ill be there in 10

you

okay!! ily! 💘

ethan 💗

love you too ❤️

you and ethan were walking together to some frat party for halloween. a couple of your friends begged you to go, however you knew ethan wasn’t the most comfortable at parties.

you asked him one afternoon if he was up to it, making sure to emphasize that it was okay if he didn’t want to go, and that you would be happy to stay home and watch movies all night if thats what he wanted.

ethan wanted to be supportive, so he said he didn’t mind going, which was a complete lie. but seeing the smile on your face when he agreed was totally worth it.

you and ethan decided to be characters from ratatouille. you were the remi, and he was chef linguini. you took a more sexy approach, with a grey corset and mini skirt, while he dressed a little more modest, with jeans and an apron.

you carefully put on the headband with little mouse ears attached to it, and your costume was complete. shortly after, you heard knocking. you left your room and headed to let ethan in.

you giggled at the sight of his costume, and went to plant a kiss on his lips. he kissed you back, his face now a shade of red.

“you looks so cute!” you say, grinning widely. ethan compliments your outfit, and you head off the party.

you interlock hands with him on the short walk, your arms swinging with every step. you heard the house from down the street, the typical frat party music blaring loudly.

you enter the rowdy estate, and immediately see some of your friends. you rush over to them, dragging ethan along with you. you let go of his hand to hug your friends, which left him standing their awkwardly.

you decide to go find some drinks, and invite ethan to follow you. however, on your way to the kitchen, the crowd separates you and him.

when you find the drinks, you realize ethan wasn’t with you anymore. you reach the keg and fill up a red solo cup, trying to be quick so you could find him again. you search for a soda in the alcohol filled kitchen, knowing ethan wasn’t a big drinker.

while opening all of the cabinets, looking for anything that wasn’t spiked, a man around your age walked up to you.

“what are you? a mouse?” he asks, trying to start a conversation.

“remi the rat actually, im matching with my boyfriend.” you say, trying to politely express your disinterest while still searching for a damn soda.

“whatcha looking for?” he continues to pester you, despite your previous comment.

“a soda, for my boyfriend.” you make sure to accentuate the boyfriend part, hoping he would take the hint.

he opens a cabinet and hands you a sprite.

“uhm thanks i guess.” you reply, and turned to walk away. the strange man grabbed you by the wrist, turned you around, and pulled you closer to him.

“he doesn’t have to know.” he whispers maliciously.

you yank your arm away from him, and take off the other way. you tried your best not to make a scene, hoping that you could leave that all behind you and have a good time.

he seemed to leave you alone after that whole ordeal, and you searched around the house for ethan. you eventually spotted him in the corner alone, scrolling through his phone.

a wave of guilt washed over you. you should have been able to tell that he was lying when he said he wanted to come.

you rush over, and apologize for leaving him.

“im so sorry eth, we can go home if you want.”

ethan saw the look of disappointment in your eyes, and he couldn’t bear to make you leave.

“it’s fine, really. I don’t mind. can you stay with me, please?” ethan asked.

“of course, baby.” you replied, handing him the soda. “i know you don’t like drinking, so i found a soda for you!! all i could find was sprite, although i know your favorite is coke.” you say.

ethan smiled at your caring personality. how did he pull you? you were drop dead gorgeous and extremely popular, and he was well, just ethan.

a loser, friendless, and a nobody were all words people used to describe him. you however, made him feel the opposite.

with you, he was someone. he could be himself around you, and make the stupid dad jokes that he was scared to say around other people in fear of being judged.

just then, someone shouted your name from across the room. you grabbed ethans hand and interlocked your fingers once again, making sure he stayed by your side this time.

you pulled him over to a group of people, all of which he was unfamiliar with. you greeted all of them with a smile, and started catching up with them.

“your costume is so cute!” said one of the girls you were having a conversation with.

“thanks!! ethan helped pick out most of it!” you reply back, leaning your head on his shoulder and smiling.

what you seemed to miss was the nasty glares they gave ethan.

“is he uhm.. your boyfriend?” another girl from the group asked. what you didn’t miss was the tone she used. it was like she was ridiculing him, and for what?

“yeah. got a problem with that?” you ask in a sarcastic tone, although you weren’t in the mood for being funny.

“its just.. he’s kinda… nevermind.” the girl says back, her voice lowering at the end.

“no, say it. he’s kinda what?” you respond back, not as cheerful this time. ethan stood next to you, looking down at the ground.

“fine. he’s a fucking weirdo.” the girl blurted out, and you were livid. in the heat of the moment, you slapped her straight across the face, hoping to knock some sense into her.

the group gasped, and ethan looked at you with wide eyes.

“what the fuck?!?” she shouted, getting everyones attention.

“how the hell are you gonna make fun of my boyfriend when you’re to much of a slut to even keep one?!?!” you yell at her. all you heard was “ooohs” from the crowd at your statement.

ethan dragged you outside before anyone could say anything else.

“are you okay??” ethan asks, worried. you look at him confused.

“i should be asking you if you’re okay! those bitches had no right to say anything about you. you’re the best boyfriend, and if they can’t see that, than it’s their loss.” you reply.

ethan just hugs you upon hearing your words.

he wanted to spend forever in your arms. you were his savior, protecting him from every asshole out there.

#jack champion #ethan landry smut #ethan landry #ethan landry angst #ethan landry x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion x reader #jack champion x actress! reader #liv’s writing !

523 notes · View notes

junekicks · 10 months

Note

steve sneaking up to reader room because he misses her & she’s been quiet all day.

i changed this up just a little, hope that’s okay <3 (shy/anxious!reader) (588 words)

mush little mouse ♱ steve harrington

Steve’s house is jumbo.

You could easily get lost if you’ve never been here before. Though, it seems everyone’s been here before. It’s Steve Harrington.

It’s summer, and summer means parties.

You hadn’t really wanted to come. Parties, big parties, at least, aren’t necessarily your thing. You’d also woken up this morning with an awful feeling in your chest. Like a boulder’s been sitting on your chest all day just rambling about nothing important. And mister boulder won’t seem to move till he’s done talking, and he won’t stop talking.

You’d come to the party anyway. For Steve. Because you like Steve. And Robin says Steve likes you too. But you highly doubt that.

You’re not sure, but around twenty minutes ago, before you disappeared upstairs, a crowd of them were doing shots off bodies. It might’ve been Eddie on the counter with Nancy’s lips against his tattooed skin. You aren’t really sure. Your head is still spinning.

You’ve been in Steve’s home before. You find his door quicker than you mean too. It’s quiet up here.

Your back pushes against the wood once you’re in, taking a deep breath. Your eyes screw shut as you push the ends of your palms into them. You smudge your mascara.

Your eyes ghost along Steve’s room. You’ve been in here briefly a couple of times before. Your palm glides over his made comforter before you take a gentle seat. You stare at his wood floors for a little before letting your body fall back into his bed with huff. You aren’t sure what’s wrong with you now. You hug yourself. It’s quiet for about six minutes before the door opens.

“Knew I’d find you here, cupcake.” Oh.

Your eyes peel open at the all too familiar voice. You sit up on your elbows as the door closes. Steve looks awfully pretty. Hair highlighted and a bit messy, like his fingers have tugged on it endlessly. He looks like he’s glowing. Plain black shirt. Jeans that sit low on his waist. He’s got his gold chain on, he always has it on. There’s a red solo cup in his hand, but he doesn’t seem drunk. He seems very far from it. He seems to catch your eye as he stands before you.

He smiles small. “Fruit punch. The normal kind. You want any?” You smile small up at him, you shake your head as in no. He places the cup in your hand anyways. He’s like that.

He takes a seat next to you and gently squeezes your bare knee. You’ve got a cute little, short flowy white skirt on. It complements you nicely. “Thank you for coming,” he says gently. You sip the drink gently. He carries on, staring at your scuffed high tops. “I know you hate these things. It means a lot to me.”

Your gaze flickers to his now. He seems to feel it, he looks over at you too. He smiles. Warm. Sweet. Honeyed. Your cheeks fade pink. “It’s no biggie, Stevie.”

A whimper almost crawls up his throat and slams past his lips to break his teeth. He smiles more. Skin a little hot. “S’okay if I hang out with you up here?” He’s doing it again. Making sure you’re all good.

You raise a brow and place the drink back in his hand gently. “It’s your room?”

Steve can’t stop smiling. “Yeah. True, but you’re more fun to be with than the mess downstairs.” You aren’t sure you believe him, but you decide to take his word for it. “Okay.”

He laughs a little and presses a soft, wet kiss to the highest point of your cheek. You laugh gently, nose scrunching up. He squeezes your knee again.

Guess his parties aren’t that bad.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x y/n fluff #joe keery #Steve harrington x shy!reader #steve harrington x anxious!reader #soph’s place

773 notes · View notes

mykoreanlove · 2 months

Text

princess treatment or leave me the fuck alone - minho 👑

“Oh my god, this food is so good”, you sighed in pleasure as you took another bite of the rice bowl in front of you. It was a typical Friday night – you were out in town enjoying life to the fullest.

“Don’t get me wrong, y/n, I love going out with you but why the fuck am I here?”, your friend asked irritated.

“What do you mean?”, you sipped on your savory drink.

“I thought you were going out with the guy from last time. The one that approached you in the club?”

A small smirk formed on your lips, as you remembered the night you had met Minho.

He was out with his friends, looking irresistibly sexy and strutting through the premise, too confident for his own good. It didn’t take long for him to notice you, gazing at you like a cat that was about to catch a mouse. When he walked over you were sure that he was about to ask you for a hookup, after all that man was sex on legs.

But he didn’t.

He was polite and witty, making jokes and laughing shily.

“I’d like to take you out, y/n.”

“I’d like that, too”, you nodded excitedly.

“So, what happened? Why am I your date tonight?”

You sighed in disappointment.

“I had to cancel”, you admitted and took another sip from your drink. “He was just not my type, I guess.”

Your friend looked at you surprised. “That Greek god was not your type? Are you nuts?”

You chuckled before spilling the truth.

“Okay, listen. Minho had called me, and we set up the date for tonight. He chose a place for us to go to and get to know each other and that was all fine. And then I asked him to send me a cab.”

“A cab?”, she asked bewildered.

“Yeah”, you shrugged your shoulders. “It’s not that big of a deal but he declined. He asked me if I really needed a cab. I mean no one ever needs anything, really, but I would have loved to be chauffeured through town like that.”

Your friend downed her drink and waited patiently. “And then?”

“Well, at first, he explained that no girl had ever asked that of him before and after that he kind of tried to talk me out of it, really. He didn’t think it was necessary, so I cancelled the date. I thanked him for organizing everything and told him that we could be friends, but that’s it for me.”

Your friend waved her hands at you exasperatedly.

“Wait, wait, wait. You rejected Minho, the sexy motherfucker Minho, because you were too petty to take the subway? Are you for real, y/n?”

You chuckled amused, already anticipating that your actions would be received quite controversary.

“Listen, I’m done taking the bare minimum from guys. I would have loved for him to organize a cab and ensure that I arrive safely. But he didn’t. And that’s okay but it shows that we are on different levels regarding dating. I’d like a man that can take care of me, spoil me. You know… princess treatment? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

“Aren’t you”, your friend hesitated, “asking for too much though?”

You straightened your back, ready to lecture your friend once and for all.

“I’ve went on so many dates last year and so many of them treated me like dirt. Actual dirt, bestie. Along the line I realized that there are certain things I want and need. And I’m not going to settle for less. I did that in the past and you know what it got me? A broken heart. A fractured ego. The longer you do that, the more agitated you get. I’m done with catching feelings for someone that regards me as low value. I can’t be doing that again and begging them to treat me better. Never again.”

Your friend stayed silent, but you could see her brain working hard, trying to make sense of what you had just said. You realized that your way of thinking was offensive to many but then again, you had always been one of a kind.

“I don’t know if I can agree with you, y/n.”

Before you could answer you got interrupted by a guy, who hurriedly took the seat next to your friend and looked at you with sorrowful eyes.

“I think I can now”, he answered breathlessly.

“Minho”, you whispered inaudibly.

365 notes · View notes

jennamoran · 3 months

Text

The Far Roofs: Systems

Hi!

Today I’m going to talk a little bit more about my forthcoming RPG, the Far Roofs. More specifically, I want to give a general overview of its game mechanics!

So the idea that first started the Far Roofs on the road to being its own game came out of me thinking a lot about what large projects feel like.

I was in one of those moods where I felt like the important thing in an RPG system was the parallel between that system and real-world experience. Where I felt like the key to art was always thinking about the end goal, or at least a local goal, as one did the work; and, the key to design was symmetry between the goals and methods, the means and ends.

I don't always feel that way, but it's how I work when I'm feeling both ambitious and technical.

So what I wanted to do was come up with an RPG mechanic that was really like the thing it was simulating:

Finding answers. Solving problems. Doing big things.

And it struck me that what that felt like, really, was a bit like ...

You get pieces over time. You wiggle them around. You try to fit them together. Sometimes, they fit together into larger pieces and then eventually a whole. Sometimes you just collect them and wiggle them around until suddenly there's an insight, an oh!, and you now know everything works.

The ideal thing to do here would probably be having a bag of widgets that can fit together in different ways---not as universally as Legos or whatever, but, like, gears and connectors and springs and motors and whatever. If I were going to be building a computer game I would probably think along those lines, anyway. You'd go to your screen of bits and bobs and move them around with your mouse until it hooked together into something that you liked.

... that's not really feasible for a tabletop RPG, though, at least, not with my typical financial resources. I could probably swing making that kind of thing, finding a 3d printing or woodworking partner or something to make the pieces, for the final kickstarter, but I don't have the resources to make a bunch of different physical object sets over time while I'm playtesting.

So the way I decided that I could implement this was by drawing letter tiles.

That I could do a system where you'd draw letter tiles ... not constantly, not specifically when you were working, but over time; in the moments, most of all, that could give you insight or progress.

Then, at some point, you'd have enough of them.

You'd see a word.

That word'd be your answer.

... not necessarily the word itself, but, like, what the word means to you and what the answer means to you, those would be the same.

The word would be a symbol for the answer that you've found, as a player and a character.

(The leftover letters would then stick around in your hand, bits of thought and experience that didn't directly lead to a solution there, but might help with something else later on.)

Anyway, I figured that this basic idea was feasible because, like, lots of people own Scrabble sets. Even if you don't, they're easier to find than sets of dice!

For a short indie game focused on just that this would probably have been enough of a mechanic all on its own. For a large release, though, the game needed more.

After thinking about it I decided that what it wanted was two more core resolution systems:

One, for stuff like, say ... kickstarter results ... where you're more interested in "how well did this do?" or "how good of an answer is this?" than in whether those results better fit AXLOTL or TEXTUAL. For this, I added cards, which you draw like letter tiles and combine into poker hands. A face card is probably enough for a baseline success, a pair of Kings would make the results rather exciting, and a royal flush result would smash records.

The other core system was for like ... everyday stuff. For starting a campfire or jumping a gap. That, by established RPG tradition, would use dice.

...

I guess technically it didn't have to; I mean, like, most of my games have been diceless, and in fact we've gotten to a point in the hobby where that's just "sort of unusual" instead of actually rare.

But, like, I like dice. I do. If I don't use them often, it's because I don't like the empty page of where to start in the first place building a bespoke diced system when I have so many good diceless systems right there.

... this time, though, I decided to just go for it.

The Dice System

So a long, long time ago I was working on a game called the Weapons of the Gods RPG. Eos Press had brought me in to do the setting, and somewhere in the middle of that endeavor, the game lost its system.

I only ever heard Eos' side of this, and these days I tend to take Eos' claims with a grain of salt ... but, my best guess is that all this stuff did happen, just, with a little more context that I don't and might not ever know?

Anyway, as best as I remember, the first writer they had doing their system quit midway through development. So they brought in a newer team to do the system, and halfway through that the team decided they'd have more fun using the system for their own game, and instead wrote up a quick alternate system for Weapons of the Gods to use.

This would have been fine if the alternate system were any good, but it was ... pretty obviously a quick kludge. It was ...

I think the best word for it would be "bad."

I don't even like the system they took away to be their own game, but at least I could believe that it was constructed with love. It was janky but like in a heartfelt way.

The replacement system was more the kind of thing where if you stepped in it you'd need a new pair of shoes.

It upset me.

It upset me, and so, full wroth, I decided to write a system to use for the game.

Now, I'd never done a diced system before at that point. My only solo game had been Nobilis. So I took a bunch of dice and started rolling them, to see ... like ... what the most fun way of reading them was.

Where I landed, ultimately, was looking for matches.

The core system for Weapons of the Gods was basically, roll some number of d10s, and if you got 3 4s, that was a 34. If you got 2 9s, that was a 29. If your best die was a 7 and you had no pairs at all, you got 1 7. 17.

It didn't have any really amazing statistical properties, but the act of rolling was fun. It was rhythmic, you know, you'd see 3 4s and putting them together into 34 was a tiny tiny dopamine shot at the cost of basically zero brain effort. It was pattern recognition, which the brain tends to enjoy.

I mean, obviously, it would pall in a few minutes if you just sat there rolling the dice for no reason ... but, as far as dice rolling goes, it was fun.

So when I went to do an optional diced system for the Chuubo's Marvelous Wish-Granting Engine RPG, years later, to post here on tumblr ... I already knew what would make that roll fun. That is, rolling a handful of dice and looking for matches.

What about making it even more fun?

... well, critical results are fun, so what about adding them and aiming to have a lot of them, though still like rare enough to surprise?

It made sense to me to call no matches at all a critical failure, and a triple a critical success. So I started fiddling with dice pool size to get the numbers where I wanted them.

I'm reconstructing a bit at this point, but I imagine that I hit 6d10 and was like: "these are roughly the right odds, but this is one too many dice to look at quickly on the table, and I don't like that critical failure would be a bit more common than crit success."

So after some wrestling with things I wound up with a dice pool of 5d6, which is the dice pool I'm still using today.

If you roll 5d6, you'll probably get a pair. But now and then, you'll get a triple (or more!) My combinatorics is rusty, so I might have missed a case, but, like ... 17% of the time, triples, quadruples, or quintuples? And around 9% chance, for no matches at all?

I think I was probably looking for 15% and 10%, that those were likely my optimum, but ... well, 5d6 comes pretty close. Roughly 25% total was about as far as I thought I could push critical results while still having them feel kind or rare. Like ...

If I'm rolling a d20 in a D&D-like system, and if I'm going to succeed on an 18+, that's around when success is exciting, right? Maybe 17+, though that's pushing it? So we want to fall in the 15-20% range for a "special good roll." And people have been playing for a very long time now with the 5% chance of a "1" as a "special bad roll," and that seemed fine, so, like, 20-25% chance total is good.

And like ...

People talk a lot about Rolemaster crit fail tables in my vicinity, and complain about the whiff fests you see in some games where you keep rolling and rolling and nothing good or bad actually happens, and so I was naturally drawn to pushing crit failure odds a bit higher than you see in a d20-type game.

Now, one way people in indie circles tend to address "whiff fests" is by rethinking the whole dice-rolling ... paradigm ... so you never whiff; setting things up, in short, so that every roll means something, and every success and failure mean something too.

It's a leaner, richer way of doing things than you see in, say, D&D.

... I just didn't feel like it, here, because the whole point of things was to make dice rolling fun. I wanted people coming out of traditional games to be able to just pick up the dice and say "I'm rolling for this!" because the roll would be fun. Because consulting the dice oracle here, would be fun.

So in the end, that was the heart of it:

A 5d6 roll, focusing on the ease of counting matches and the high but not exorbitant frequency of special results.

But at the same time ...

I'm indie enough that I do really like rolls where, you know, every outcome is meaningful. Where you roll, and there's never a "whiff," just a set of possible meaningful outcomes.

A lot of the time, where I'm leaning into "rolls are fun, go ahead and roll," what it means to succeed, to fail, to crit, all that's up to the group, and sometimes it'll be unsatisfying. Other times, you'll crit succeed or crit fail and the GM will give you basically the exact same result as you'd have gotten on a regular success or failure, just, you know, jazzing up the description a bit with more narrative weight.

But I did manage to pull out about a third of the rolls you'll wind up actually making and assign strong mechanical and narrative weight to each outcome. Where what you were doing was well enough defined in the system that I could add some real meat to those crits, and even regular success and regular failure.

... though that's a story, I think, to be told some other time. ^_^

#the far roofs #jenna moran #rpgs

229 notes · View notes

thisismeracing · 3 months

Text

King of my heart | MS47 | Part. 24 (ending)

― Pairing: Mick Schumacher x hamilton!reader ― Word count: 1.2k ― Warnings: none I guess. ― Summary: Mick Schumacher rode a lousy wave for quite some time, so when the sky gets cleaner and the sun brighter he just knows something terrible may be in store for him. Whereas y/n was just so magnetic, and the possibilities of life with her seemed better than anything his mind could ever create, that’s why, for the first time in forever, he threw caution carelessly through the window, hoping to get to the finish line before it catches up on him.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

part. 23 | series masterlist

Mick paced around the room again, and for the looks of it, it wouldn’t take him long to dig a hole in the exact spot his racing boots were hitting.

“We don’t have much time, Mick, you gotta get ready,” Gary, his engineer, knocked on the door, opening it just enough to look at the German.

“Where’s Yn?”

“You mean Yn Hamilton?” he asked, just to make sure and Mick tried to keep his eyes from rolling, too stressed to answer properly, but too polite to give a rude answer to Gannon who was friendly most of the time. The engineer took on the driver's silence, and tried, “I think she’s with Lewis. Want me to get her?”

“Get who?” just from Yn’s voice Mick could guess she was smiling. That bright and big smile he loved so much. The only smile that would be able to calm his racing heart.

Gary waved to Yn opening the door wider for her, he motioned ‘5 minutes’ to Mick and left the lovers alone giving them as much privacy as a small driver’s room could.

“Hey, mouse, what's the matter?” she walked inside and towards him, tipping her face up so their lips could meet in a quick peck.

Mick, however, had other plans.

His hands found purchase on her waist, bringing her body impossibly closer, and his tongue took advantage of the surprised gasp she let out to sneak inside her mouth, tasting her sweetness. Yn grasped his blonde locks between her fingers, and corresponded the kiss as much as she could, feeling how nervous he was.

When the air made itself scarce, the driver hid his face in the crook of her neck.

“I’m nervous, what if I fuck it up? What if I crash? What if the car is shitty? What if–” Mick started, voice trembling, finally letting his walls down, and showing someone how vulnerable he was feeling.

Sure they had this conversation before, and sure Mick Schumacher knew he was a great racing driver, but he was also a human being and, of course, he had his own insecurities and doubts.

Yn held his face between her hands, leveling it with her own, and looking him in the eyes. His big blue orbs looked at her with adoration and fear all mixed in one, and she smiled sympathetically.

“Close your eyes,” she commanded in a soft tone and he obeyed. “Hear this rustling of people walking around from one side of the other working non-stop?” Mick nods keeping his eyes shut, they’re chest to chest so listening to her soothing voice and feeling her breath evens his. “They’ve been working for a while now so everything is perfect for their number one driver. They’re not sure if the car will beat that Red Bull witchcraft, but they’re doing their best, and they counting on you to do your best as well. It doesn’t matter if this combo doesn’t get you a podium today, there’s always next Sunday. They got the will to make it happen, and they got the driver to do so too. Leave the past in the past, get in that car, and do what you love doing, do what you know you can do, and also what you don’t know you can do yet. We’ll be here watching, rooting, working, and praying.”

Her comforting words and soft tone made Mick lean even more on her touch. He smiled, nodded, and kissed her forehead.

“Where–”

“Here,” she was quick to answer, already knowing he was going to ask from where she would watch the race. Lewis was racing as well, and before Sunday rolled around Yn was asked this question by a lot of people, her brother included. “I’ll watch it from here, you may see me cheering when Lew overtakes others, but I’ll be here rooting for you too. And I don’t care about the outcome, you’re my number one.” She whispered the last part and Mick smiled, kissing her yet again.

“I love you.”

“I love you,” she echoed back, lacing her hands around his large shoulders and enjoying his warmth. “You’re also looking hot as fuck in this new racing suit, please tell me you can sneak one in your bag tonight.”

Mick laughed and nibbled on her neck just enough to make her whine, but before he could give Hamilton a witty answer, there was a knock on the door.

“Go out there and kick ass,” she kissed his chin, and smiled, turning to the door.

And that was exactly what Mick did. He turned the first race of the season into a show. His show. Everyone watched on the edge of their seats as time after time he overtook cars and climbed up to the podium. A fight for the podium went on on the last turn – Lewis, Mick, and Max were fighting for first place, and in the last seconds the Schumacher overtook his future-in-law, hatching the first place and surprising everyone.

The camera panned on Yn watching the race from the Porsche’s garage, and the way she smiled and cheered when Mick got his first win of the season on the first race of the season during his first year with a team that was racing for the first time. It was a first, and how sweet it tasted for everyone. Even for Lewis, who ended up getting second place, but celebrated as if that was his win too.

The team ran for the celebration, and Mick went straight for Yn once the car was parked and the helmet was off. There wasn’t much thinking into it, he just saw her there crying and smiling wearing his team’s merch, his number on her body, his initial dangling from a chain around her neck, Mick couldn’t do anything but kiss her lips in front of the cameras. The cheers and flashes faded during the seconds their lips were sealed, he hugged her close, before jumping on top of the crew. Lewis walked to his sister after the congrats from his own team, he hugged her and they smiled as brightly as ever.

After the podium celebration and interviews, Mick walked back to his garage finding Yn and Lewis there. They were side by side talking, both smiling, and Mick couldn’t help but remember the first time he saw Yn. That day she was talking with Lewis too, it was also the beginning of the season, and now, just like before Mick felt like he could stare at her forever. Yn looked stunning wearing Porsche’s shirt and baggy jeans, the colors of the shirt creating the perfect contrast with her black skin. Her curls were tied on top of her head after the long day. She was stunning, and now he was the one walking into the room, walking to her, his girlfriend.

His heart was doing somersaults inside his chest.

After so many days of worrying and agonizing about the future, he was here with a seat on a great team. After so many days of fear about his relationship, Yn was here, as sure as ever about their commitment. After so many times unsure of the future, Mick was happy with the unknown, happy to discover it with Yn, happy to build his own legacy, happy to experience life to the fullest, and even happier to rule the kingdom of Yn’s heart because he knew damn well she was the queen of his heart, body, and soul.

She was the one he had been waiting for.

“There he is,” Yn said taking Mick from his thoughts and walking towards him again. “My number one,” she whispered hugging him, “the king of my heart.”

And nothing ever felt as right as being in her arms.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, honeybees! I hope you guys liked this. I know it's been a while since I last updated, but it's finally here, and I'm happy to end (or give a pause to it, considering I won't stop thinking about mickyn in the context of komh) this journey. Thank you so much to each and every one of you who liked, reblogged, commented, sent asks, and gave me the motivation needed to get this together. This wouldn't be possible without you, thank you! <3 I hope to see you guys in a new series soon. Meanwhile, make sure to tune in to my account and read all the new blurbs and pieces coming. I may post a bonus piece (or rather a smau epilogue) hihi.

▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @v1naco @dearxcherry @elliegrey2803 @peachiicherries @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @goldenalbon @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji @heelariously @bbreezybitch @graciewrote @ferrariloverr @minkyungseokie @scopeiguess @princewis @leclercsluv @alessioayla @littlesatanicassholebitch @barcelonaloverf1life @fanboyluvr @noncannonships @is-just-a @love4lando @woozarts

©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

#komh #ms47 #millie writes #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x black!reader #hamilton!reader #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 x black!reader #f1 fandom #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #mick schumacher #formula one fanfic

141 notes · View notes

beebeetheclown · 4 months

Text

Quiet as a Mouse

Oliver Quick x fem!reader

Summary: You attend college with Oliver Quick. He is quiet and a little strange. You think you are nothing alike, he proves you wrong when you are assigned partners for an assignment.

Notes: This is different from what I usually write so bear with me here👀 I needed to write about Oliver as soon as I watched Saltburn because I love little freaky men and I know you do too, don’t lie😏 Hope you enjoy it😊

Also, go read my bestie’s, @aurorag98’s, Saltburn fic if you haven’t already, it is perfect in every way.

Read here on ao3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🐬~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was your second year of college when you first spoke to Oliver, he was in one of your classes. You thought you were different from one another as he was quiet and you were more talkative and went out to a lot of parties. In your first year, you weren’t as extroverted, it was actually your boyfriend who helped you come out of your shell more, he was the one who dragged you out to all the parties. Now that you have been with your boyfriend for a while, you became more like him and enjoyed things that he liked, which was mostly drinking and partying.

It was hard to focus on studies when you went out a lot as it would give you less time to study and actually focus as you would sometimes go to class with a hangover. You were very smart though, so even when you felt like shit from the other night, you managed to keep your grades high.

The only reason you had spoken to Oliver was because you had been assigned as partners for a big assignment. You would much rather have the professor let you pick your own partners but he said that it was better that he picked as it would make people fool around less. He also said that it was good to get to know others.

You figured Oliver was pretty smart, he’d attend every class and you had seen him in the library often either studying or reading. You didn’t really want to be his partner though because you knew nothing about him and he didn’t know anything about you, so it would probably be awkward.

“Switch tables and sit with your partners, this will be the seating plan now as you will be working on this project until the break. You have three weeks to complete it.” The professor says.

You sigh a little, not wanting to have to sit next to him because you knew you’d most likely have to do all the talking, but you had no choice, you collect your things and go to sit next to him.

He looks up at you, and to your surprise, he’s the first one to speak, “Looks like we’re partners.”

“Looks like it.” You reply and sit next to him, “So, I guess we just decide which part we will each work on. I’ll choose mine and you’ll choose yours, we work on it individually then share them and put them together the last week before it's due.” He just looks at you with his blue eyes before looking down at the paper, you could tell something was on his mind, “Unless, there was something else you had planned.”

“Well, the professor said we work on it together, not individually.” He says quietly, continuing to keep his eyes on the instruction paper.

You grew annoyed easily when things didn’t go your way, it was something you got from your boyfriend. You didn’t let your annoyance show as you knew that you’d be with him for the next three weeks. You had to get along with him otherwise the three weeks would feel even longer.

“Yes, it’s just harder to work together as we, you know, don’t know each other well. But it’s fine, we can figure something out.” You say and then your phone buzzes, it’s a text from your boyfriend and you immediately smile and text him back. Oliver was now annoyed with you, but like you, he didn’t let it show.

“So, I think we should pick our parts now, class is almost over, I want to start early so we can finish early. That way, we’ll have free time for a while in the end.” He says as he looks at you typing on your phone.

“Alright, you can pick your parts, I’m fine with whatever.” You say, still looking at your phone. Oliver just takes a deep breath in and exhales before he looks over the papers while you stay on your phone. A few minutes pass and he has read them over,

“Okay, I think I’ll do part 1, 5, and 8. You can have the others.” Finally, you put your phone down and look at the parts he gave you, they are a lot of work but you shrug it off.

“Cool, sounds good to me.”

“Would it… be okay if you started tonight? You don’t have to do much, even a little research is fine.”

You look at him, “Yeah, I’ll start some, no problem.” You give him a fake little smile. You knew that you most likely wouldn’t start anything. Soon, class ends and you are done for the day. Your only plans now were to go to the library after dinner to help your boyfriend with his school work, he wasn’t the brightest at school, it was almost like his party life was more important to him.

Hardly anyone was in the campus library as it was later in the evening and it was closing in an hour or so. The two of you enter the library and laugh together as you hold hands and you walk with him to find a computer. When you sit down next to him, you look up only to see Oliver sitting at another table a few feet away from you.

“Shit.” You say quietly and laugh.

“What?”

“My project partner is here. I told him that I’d work on the project. I haven’t even started.” You can’t help but laugh quietly.

“Just lie to him, no big deal. Now, help me with this essay before I fall asleep.” You begin to help him and Oliver soon notices you. He can’t seem to stop studying you. He was watching you to see if you were working, seeing who you were with. He hesitated for a second but when he sees you laugh with your boyfriend and put your hands in his hair, he stands and makes his way over to you.

“Hey, sorry I don’t mean to bother you.”

You turn and look up at him, “No, don’t worry about it. Is there something you need?”

“I just come over here to tell you that I’ve got part one started, you know, for the project.”

“Oh, okay um, that’s good. You can share it next class.”

“Yeah, okay. I was just wondering if you… got any work for the project done?”

You side glance at your boyfriend before answering. Oliver captured the small glance, he was good at catching the small details of a person, the side glance told him everything he needed to know. He knew you hadn’t started, but he let you finish speaking anyway.

“Oh, yeah. I got a little research done earlier today.”

“Great, you can share it with me in the next class.” He grins a little, knowing now that if you were going to keep lying to him, you’d have to get work done now as you’d have to show it to him next class.

“Uh huh, right. It’s uh, that’s not a problem. See you next class Oliver.”

“Okay, see you.” Before he leaves, he looks over at your boyfriend for just a second with a blank expression.

Your boyfriend leans into you and speaks into your ear when Oliver is walking back to his own table, “Yikes.”

You playfully hit him in the arm and laugh. Little did the two of you know, Oliver heard the words leave your boyfriend's lips and he felt upset. He already hated your boyfriend. Oliver wanted to be better than him in some way, he didn’t know how yet, but he would find a way. He always found a way to get what he wanted.

…

The next few classes, Oliver knew that you didn’t start the work. He had listened to so many of your lies, hearing you say that you forgot your notebook, saying that your laptop with all of your work on it was dead, or that you had forgotten your USB stick. He came up with a plan, he knew how to make sure you would actually start working.

“Why don’t you just come to my dorm room tonight? That way, we can work together. I can even help you with yours.” He looks down at the table, “... Or start yours.”

You look at him, “I have started.” You lie.

This only makes him look back at you, “Look, you don’t have to lie to me anymore. I know you haven’t started. I won’t get angry with you if you come and work with me, just this one time. Please?”

You think for a moment, you really didn’t want to go to his dorm because you felt as if it would be both awkward and boring, but you did have to get work done eventually, “Okay, I’ll come over, but just this once. You can just help me get started and I’ll go from there.”

He smiles a little, “Perfect. How does six o’clock sound?”

“Six sounds fine.” He soon gives you where his dorm was located and unlike you, he was actually excited to have you over. He wanted to get closer with you, not just for the project, but in general. He found a lot of people pretty or handsome, you were one of those people.

…

You went out to dinner that night at a little pub with your boyfriend. You went out at four, you knew you had to be over at Oliver’s by six, but you didn’t see a problem if you would be a little late.

Coincidentally, he was at the pub too. Well, he was outside of the pub. He was on the street when he saw you a few feet ahead of him with your boyfriend and he watched you enter the pub. He slowly made his way closer to the building and gazed through one of the windows and he spotted you sitting at a booth. He watched you for a moment and you didn’t notice him watching. There were a few tables outside, so when one of the waiters asked if he needed something, it kicked him back into reality.

“No, sorry. Just looking.” He says, but before the waiter can walk away further, he stops her, “Hey, actually could I just get one drink?”

“Of course, would you like to sit inside or outside?”

“Inside please.”

“Of course, we should have a table open for you.” He follows the waiter inside and she begins to lead him closer to your table, you still didn’t see him as your back was to him.

He notices that the booth next to yours is empty and he knows that the waiter most likely was leading him to it, he stops in his tracks, “Hey, actually, I might just sit at the bar on one of the stools. Thanks though.” With that, he turns and walks to the bar and sits down. You were still in his vision.

While he is sitting at the bar counter, you are still at your booth just a few feet away. Your boyfriend is facing where Oliver was sitting and he sees him, “Hey, isn’t that the guy? Your nerdy project partner?”

You stop smiling before turning you back to look where your boyfriend was looking and you spot him. He is looking at you but when he catches your gaze, he quickly turns to face forward again.

“What is he doing here?” You say, half laughing and half annoyed.

“Maybe he is following you.”

“What’s the time?”

Your boyfriend checks his phone, “five thirty, why?”

“He wanted me to come over to his dorm at six so we could start this stupid project early.”

“You’re going to his place?” Your boyfriend asked with a concerned look on his face, “You didn't tell me.”

“Well, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Why can’t you just work on it at school?”

You shrug, “He seemed to really want to work on it at his place.”

“The campus isn’t far, I wonder if he walked here as well. You should ask him to walk back with us.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think we should just leave him alone. He’d probably rather walk back alone anyway.” You reply. “We should actually head back.”

He pays for your meals and begins to walk towards the door with you. In order to get to the door, you’d have to walk right past the bar where Oliver was sitting.

Your boyfriend tends to always do what he wants so when the group walks past Oliver, he stops right next to Oliver, “Hey, you’re my girlfriend's project partner, am I correct?”

You turn back to look, annoyed that he said anything even after you told him not to.

Oliver looks at him, then to you, and then to him again, “That would be correct, yes.”

Your boyfriend gives him a fake little grin, “We were just heading back to the campus. She tells me that you two are planning to work together soon. Would you like to walk back with us?”

Oliver just looks at the two of you. Before he can say anything, you speak, “You don’t have to. I can just meet you at your place. I have your dorm number.”

Your boyfriend barges in, “No, no. We insist you come with us.”

You give your boyfriend an annoyed glare but he ignores it. Oliver speaks again, “Alright, sure. I can walk back with you guys. I was planning to leave now anyway.”

“Great.” Your boyfriend replies, and soon, you along with Oliver make your way back to campus with you both.

Your boyfriend was the one who did most of the talking, once in a while, his friends would join in. They paid most of their attention to Oliver.

“So, Oliver, what brought you to the pub? We maybe thought you were following us.”

“No, I came for the same reason as you, I wanted to get out for a bit.”

“Right. But you went out alone.” Your boyfriend replies. “This must be weird to you, hey? Walking with us. I seen you around, you seem like you don’t hang out with people like us, or you are and I’m just not seeing it.”

You stay quiet and listen to what Oliver replies with,

“People like you?”

“Yeah, people like us. We party, go out, get drunk. It’s fun, you should try it sometime.” Your boyfriend continues blabbering, “I’m curious now as to why you chose my girlfriend as your partner.”

You finally speak up, “He didn’t choose, the professor did.”

“Ah, I see. That’s a shame for you isn’t it.” He jokes and nudges his arm into yours playfully.

You look at Oliver then at your boyfriend, “Stop.” You say quietly. He was beginning to get on your nerves a little. The one thing you didn’t really like about him is that he could be mean at times and he would be cocky about it.

“What? Oh, come on. It was a joke. It was a joke Oliver, clearly you aren’t offended, right?’

“No, I’m not offended.” He replies coldly.

“See? You are too soft sometimes.” He wraps his arm around you and kisses the side of your head. Oliver watched as your boyfriend held you close to him and kissed your head. There was some sort of anger building up in his stomach.

Soon, the three of you finally make it back to the campus and it is now time to break apart. You were going with Oliver to his dorm. Your boyfriend whispered “Good luck” to you before he left the two of you and it now grew silent for a moment as you both just stood still in the hallway.

“It’s just down this way.” Oliver says, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

You follow him down the hallway, the whole time your mind was only thinking about how you wanted to apologize to him for how your boyfriend was treating him. You don’t apologize right away and just walk in silence beside him. You couldn’t help but notice that Oliver smelt good, you didn’t know exactly what he smelt like, maybe a flower of some kind, but all you knew was that he smelt good.

He breaks you out of your thoughts as he makes it to the door of his dorm and unlocks it, “You don’t have your things. It’s okay, I probably have paper or something you can borrow.” He could have just sent you to go get your things as it would probably only take you about ten minutes, but he was growing impatient and he even thought that maybe if you left him, you’d run away.

When you enter his room, you look around and see that everything is clean and so organized, crazy organized. Everything everywhere was straightened out, the things on his desk, the pillows on his bed, everything. The one thing you did realize was that he had no pictures or posters on his walls, they were bare.

“No posters?” You ask.

“No, I like how it is.”

Something was on his mind, and you could tell, “Hey, I’m sorry about him. My boyfriend can sometimes say a lot of stupid things. He is kind of cocky.”

“Cocky?”

“Yes.”

He looks at you deeply and says your name, “Your boyfriend’s a dick.”

Your eyes widen, “I’m sorry?”

“He’s a dick. I don’t know why you are with him. You deserve someone better.” He walks over to his desk and gets papers out, “We should start now.”

“Hold on, you just called my-”

“Yes, I did. Can we work now, please.”

“So that’s why you are alone often. You are quiet but when you speak to someone, you insult them.”

“I am not insulting you, I am insulting your idiot boy.”

“Okay, and? That’s basically the same thing.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to hurt your little feelings, all I’m saying is,” he pauses for a minute, “What’s happened to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Last year, you were like me. Quiet, smart, focused on work. You were these things but not a total ‘nerd’. We were similar and now ever since you met this guy, you’ve acted differently. I liked you better before.”

Hearing him say all of this just makes you still in silence for a moment. You barely even remembered him from last year and he seemed to remember you so well, as if the two of you had spoken before.

“How did you know that?”

He shrugs, “I’ve seen you around. Is it fun hanging out with them? Do you like it better than how it was before?”

You think for a moment, you honestly had never thought about it before, “I don’t know.” You reply softly, “I can’t remember what I liked about being quiet rather than outgoing. Do you like it quiet? Do you like it this way?”

“I do. It’s peaceful really. But I hate being looked down on by people like your boyfriend. I sometimes want to be the way he is, not give a shit about anything and have fun.”

“Then how come you don’t go out more? You can come out with my group of friends if you’d like.” You saw Oliver in yourself now, he was alone but was too afraid to go out because everyone else felt different than him. He felt alienated.

“They wouldn’t like me. I am not like you anymore. You have changed into a copy of everyone else. At least I stay the same.”

Just as you thought you were finally getting along with him, he gets on your nerves again and you get on his. You would just be annoyed with him but his annoyance felt different, he was annoyed with you but felt a weird connection to you. He wanted you to like him but he also wanted to show you that he could be strong and that he didn’t just pretend to be strong.

“I was trying to be nice. You make it really difficult for me to like you more, you know that?”

“I don’t need you to like me, I just want you to respect me. Look at me as if I am the same as you.”

“Well, we are not the same. Maybe we were a year ago, but not anymore.”

“We are the same. Deep down, you are just like me.” He walks closer to you now, “I can see right through you.”

“You’re crazy. I came here to work on this stupid assignment and all you’re doing is insulting me and speaking nonsense.”

He chuckles softly, “You’re boyfriend was right, you are too soft, aren’t you? I am not insulting you, I am just telling you the truth. Truths aren’t always what we want to hear, most people hate the truth, but you can’t run away from it. You can’t run away from reality no matter how hard you try. Trust me.”

Your faces were inches apart now and it seems as if he has trapped you in place somehow because you feel as if you can’t move back or push him away, you just stand still and let him inch closer.

“You need help Oliver. You need fucking help. You are even crazier than I thought.”

His smile only grows, “I think you’ve got the wrong word. I am real, raw, not crazy. God, there are not enough real people here. That’s why I liked seeing you last year, you were real like me, I could feel it.” He brings his hand and tucks hair behind your ears and you let him, “You don’t have to be scared.”

“I’m not scared.” You whisper back.

“Then why’d you change yourself? You changed yourself to be better for him, changed to be how society makes people like your boyfriend cool and people like us strange. You didn’t want to be strange, so you changed.”

All of his words were true, you couldn’t believe that you only started talking to him and he was revealing truths that were hidden deeply in your mind. You thought no one else knew about your truth, but he did.

You begin to cry very quietly, a couple of tears run down your cheeks. “You are pretty when you cry, has anyone ever told you that?” He asks. You shake your head and continue to cry softly, “So quiet, so small, like a little mouse. Your eyes look all glassy when you cry, it brings out the beautiful colour of them more.”

He leans in closer and brings his tongue to your cheek, licking the tear off your skin with the tip of his tongue. You could feel his warm breath on your skin. He moves his lips to the left side of your face and does the same, bringing his tongue to lick away your tears.

He holds the sides of your face in between his hands and looks at you in the eyes, “You are like me, and I am like you. Just give it up, give in and admit that it’s the truth.”

“Okay.” You whisper.

“Let me hear you say it. I need you to say it. Tell me what I just told you.”

It takes you a couple of seconds before you obey and repeat his words, “You are like me and I am like you.”

“Good girl. Say it again.” His voice was soft but demanding. You’ve never been in a situation like this. You were under his control, his power. You were too weak to move, you couldn’t do anything else but listen to him and do as he told you. You didn’t know how he did it. Oliver was quiet, but had so much control, he had you at the palm of his hands, right where he wanted you.

“You are like me and I am like you.”

“Again.”

You keep on repeating the same sentence over and over again. You only stop when he runs his tongue along your lower lip very slowly before he kisses you. He still has his hands at the sides of your head as he continues to kiss you. You kiss him back and part your lips, allowing him to slip his tongue inside of your mouth to meet your tongue.

Your mind was running with so many thoughts, it was so loud and everything didn’t seem like it was real, you felt as if you were in some crazy dream, a crazy nightmare. He begins to push you gently backwards so you make it to his bed. When the back of your legs hit the edge of his bed, he pushes you so you sit on his bed.

“Who are you Oliver?” You ask.

He leans down so his lips are close to yours again, “Do you want to find out?”

You shake your head and continue to look into his eyes, “Why are you doing this? How- why can’t I stop you?”

“You can’t stop me because you want me. You want me just like I knew you would.” He begins to drag his fingers up your thigh, “Are you going to take off your clothes, or are you just going to sit there and stare?”

You finally snap back into reality, “No, Oliver. You are not doing this. I can’t. I have to switch partners, I have to tell the professor-”

He stops your words by putting his hand over your mouth, “Can’t you just give in for just a moment? You are so difficult. Are you this difficult with him? Does he even know how to fuck you?” He doesn’t remove his hand yet and he just looks you in the eyes. His eyes were the colour of water, but they were burning through you like fire, “Now, when I remove my hand, you are going to smarten up. You are going to be quiet and give in to what you want. No more lies, all we want here is truth, okay?”

You can’t help but nod your head and he removes his hand and the room falls silent for a minute. You were wet between your thighs and that was no lie. You shouldn’t have been, you liked your boyfriend. You felt like you couldn’t say you loved him yet but that didn’t mean that cheating on him was not a big deal. It was a huge deal, if he found out about it. Oliver was quiet, the secret would be in good hands.

“I don’t want to take my top off.” You whisper, “I will feel guilty.”

“Then take off your pants.” He brings the back of his hand to stroke the side of your face, “He won’t find out. If you stay quiet, it will be easy; he won’t catch on. All you have to do is be quiet about it. Be quiet like me. You get away with a lot more things when you keep to yourself.”

You look at him the whole time you begin to remove both your pants and panties, you are soaking wet, you shouldn’t be but you are. He is already hard in his pants, he was dreaming about having you like this ever since he first saw you.

“Now it’s my turn. I am going to remove everything and you are going to watch.” He says and pulls his shirt over his head. You couldn’t believe what you were doing, sitting half nude on Oliver’s bed and watching him undress himself. First of all, you had your boyfriend, and second, you never thought Oliver would be like this. You saw him like a deer, quiet with pretty eyes. But he wasn’t a deer when he was alone with you, if anything, he was the opposite. He still looked like a little deer, but he didn’t act like one.

Soon, he is standing in front of you naked, you don’t even look at his body and just keep your eyes on his, feeling as if it would make you feel less guilty of cheating on your boyfriend if you didn’t look at his body.

“What now?” You ask innocently.”

“What now? What do you mean ‘what now’? Has your boyfriend never fucked you good enough? I bet he just gets right into it doesn’t he, bet he doesn’t even excite you first.” He chuckles a little, “That dumb boy. Spread your legs, quit being so scared.”

You do as you’re told and just sit there, waiting for what to be told to do next. He kneels down in front of you now and admires your pussy, “Does he ever eat you out before fucking you?”

“Sometimes.” You reply, “I don’t want to talk about him, Oliver, not when I’m like this.”

“Like what?”

“Having you in front of me while my legs are spread. It’s so wrong.”

“Oh, but it’s so right. You want this, look at how wet you are. Stop pretending to be someone you’re not just to get him to like you. You’ll regret it, trust me.” Right after he says this, he latches his lips onto you and tastes you, gliding his tongue along your walls. Your hand falls down to his hair and you brush your fingers through it. A loud noise leaves your lips and it makes him hum into you in satisfaction. He ate your pussy as if he was starving.

He doesn’t let you cum, he removes his mouth from you and brings his lips an inch away from yours, “Kiss me. Taste yourself on me to know how good you taste.” You thought he was crazy and doing such a thing was bizarre, but you bring your lips to him and kiss him deeply, tasting yourself on him, “Now, I’m going to fuck you.” He says bluntly when he pulls away, “I was going to fuck you with my fingers like I’ve wanted, but you’ve got me so hard I can’t wait any longer. Maybe next time.”

“There will be no next-” You can’t finish what you were going to say as he pushes you down so you are now on your back and he stands. He pulls you by your legs to get closer to you,

“You’re going to see just how much pleasure you’ve never received, how much time you’ve wasted by fucking pretty boy when you could have had me this whole time.” He grinds his hips forward and fits himself inside you and you both let out sounds. He grins as he fucks you, thinking that he has won, he finally has you like this and made you pick him over your boyfriend.

He watches every part of you as he fucks you, looking at your stomach, your breasts, your face and how you reacted to the pleasure he was giving you. Your boyfriend wasn’t that bad at sex, but something about how Oliver was working you made it feel like your boyfriend was completely clueless on how to fuck. Oliver fucked you with such need, with a mixtare of love and hate.

“Oliver, wait.” you whimper out, “Let me ride you.”

He paused inside of you for a moment, “You want to ride me? You’re more of a slut than I thought.” He pulls out of you then the two of you immediately switch positions. He leans against the headboard of the bed and you climb on top of him and lower yourself down. You couldn’t get yourself to look at him, otherwise guilt came over you, so you just put your face in the nape of his neck as you kept moving your hips up and down to ride his dick.

Hearing your sounds in his ear along with having your hot breath against his skin already made him close. He grabs your hips tightly, digging his nails into your soft skin. “Fuck, I need to cum inside you.” He groans out.

“No, no, you can’t Oliver.” You don’t stop your movements, you wanted to let yourself come over the edge too, it felt too good to stop

“Why not? Let me cum inside you.”

“No.” You reply. He growls and then suddenly flips you over so you are underneath him again and he begins to fuck you harsher. The change of pace makes you even closer. He brings his fingers down to play with your clit and that’s all that it takes for you, you moan out loudly and cum around him. He finishes right after you. He wanted to spill inside of you so badly but he decides not to, he pulls out and spills onto your stomach.

In the end, you never ended up working on your project. You only let him fuck you and then you left and went back to your own dorm room. Your boyfriend called you later in the night and you have no choice but to answer it and act as if nothing happened. You smiled and laughed at his stupid jokes through the phone. You pretended and lied to yourself that nothing between you and Oliver ever happened. You knew that it would never happen again, hoped it would never happen again. But you wanted him so badly.

You ended up switching partners, telling your professor that you and Oliver were not getting along and having a hard time working together. The professor thought about it for a while but then gave in and switched you to work with someone else. Oliver was angry but he didn’t tell anyone the real reason why you wanted to switch so bad. He wouldn’t be that cruel to you, he still wanted you to like him. He liked that you and him had a little secret between the two of you.

He grew more than angry as more days passed of you ignoring him and his glances, he practically grew obsessive. He’d follow you around the hallways when your boyfriend wasn’t with you and you were alone, asking you why you didn’t want to sleep with him anymore and why you didn’t even want to speak to him anymore. You got angry at him every time he mentioned the two of you sleeping together and told him to keep his voice down even though he was already talking quietly.

Oliver was always sneaking around now, watching you. One night, your boyfriend's dorm room window was open, facing the campus fields, and Oliver stood there watching through the window. Watching how your boyfriend would kiss you and how your body and your face would react to his touch and his kisses. He felt himself getting hard the more he watched but soon, the two of you were out of his view as you moved away from the window. Oliver was only mad now.

He wanted to find a way to have you again; he would find a way, he always did.

#saltburn #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick #barry keoghan #saltburn fic #saltburn fanfiction #oliver quick fanfic

294 notes · View notes

teddywook · 7 days

Text

intoxicated ꨄ sungchan

warnings. first person narrative, smut, mention of alcohol consumption and others substances, mdni, semi-public sex, non idol!sungchan x fem!reader, kinda situationship to lovers?, and more i guess...

words. 1.119k

hope you guys like it since it's my first attempt at a fic here (also the first time i write smut). english isn't my firts language, please let me know if something isn't clear enough. enjoy !!

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

the music sounds loudly around me, i feel the vibrations from the speakers shake my chest. my senses are clouded, the alcohol hindering my movements and the smell of cigarettes stinging my nose, making me feel dizzy

my eyelids feel heavy, but i force them open when a strange sensation tickles the back of my neck

dark, big wide-open eyes stares at me from the other side of the crowd of people. i look at sungchan with his eyes fixed on me and i give him a smile before my eyelids droop again, letting myself be enveloped by the music again

we've been in a tug of war for a while, just playing cat and mouse. i want him and he wants me, we simply hadn't done anything to deal with it. but nothing to avoid it either

i feel hands rest on my hips and i open my eyes. he crossed the room to approach me

sungchan is huge compared to my small body, so very tall and so sinfully handsome. his eyes are glassy, bright with lust, he licks his lips and his grip tightens on my skin as i press my body to his. our eyes glued as we begin to dance obscenely together

at one point i have my back against his chest, my hips making circles against his crotch. i can feel his bulge pressing into the curve of my ass, his fingers digging into my skin. his breath is hot on my neck as he leans in to whisper in my ear

—can we go somewhere else?

i feel dizzy between the sensation of his lips on my ear and his hands holding my waist, i can only nod my head and let him drag me out of the place

his lips find mine as soon as my back hits an alley wall. i'm locked between his body and the wall. hot and cold, hardness against softness

his lips tastes to alcohol and sweetness, to tobacco and glory, to sin and paradise

i almost complain when he stops kissing me, but the feeling of his mouth leaving wet kisses on my neck makes me sigh. one of his hands runs along my thighs and squeezes my ass, the other holds my cheek, tilting my head to have better access. i let out a moan when i feel a sting, his lips sucking on my skin to leave a hickey

he kisses me again and his hands go under my dress, kneading my ass. mine get tangled in his hair and pull on it. i feel his cock, hard under the clothes, rub against the skin of my bare thighs. i let out a loud moan when i move my hips and his crotch rubs against mine, he groans into my lips before he breaks the kiss, a thin thread of saliva connecting our mouths. i look at him with wide eyes, heavy breaths leaving our mouths

sungchan watches me expectantly, his eyes searching for any sign to stop. but seeing him like this, with swollen lips, heavy breathing, eyes shining with lust, hair disheveled

how could i deny him something when he looked so tempting and angelic at the same time?

i grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him close to me, our noses touching as i talk over his mouth

—please channie... fuck me

he doesn't need another word to kiss me again, hungrier than before, almost eager, needy. he lifts my dress to my waist, his hand reaches my cunt over my panties, pressing against my throbbing clit

—fuck... you're so wet

broken moans leave my lips when his hand sneaks into my underwear. his fingers sliding inside me easily due my slick. his fingers move in and out of my pussy, making my legs shake. the feeling of vertigo makes me lean my head against the wall, my eyes squinting backwards

—please sungchan... i want you

my voice comes out in a sob, sounding pathetic and needy, but i don't care. desire is bigger than shame right now

—need to prepare you more, baby. i don't want to hurt you if i'm too big for you

—i can take all of you, i swear

he sighs on my lips and kisses my cheek

—how can i deny you when you ask for it with that beautiful expression on your face

i heard the sound of his belt, then the zipper of his pants. his arms nimbly lift me against the wall and i wrap my legs around his waist for more stability. one of his hands holds my ass for support and the other holds his cock against my pussy

—tell me if it's too much

he looks me in the eyes and i nod with a smile to reassure him, but my expression changes as soon as i feel his cock push its way through my walls, stretching me painfully delicious

i let out a slightly louder moan, my nails digging into the back of his neck and I let my head fall back

—you're taking me so well, beauty, such a good girl

—feels so good channie

—like that baby, let me hear you

senseless babbling leaves my lips, moans and whimpers as he fills me up. sungchan's hands dig almost possessively into my skin, his growls over my neck making shivers run down my spine

one of his hands reaches my clit and rubs circles, making me feel the heat accumulate in my low belly. my breathing quickens, my eyelids tighten

sungchan hisses at the feeling of my fingers pulling too hard on the hair at the back of his neck, but instead of stopping him, it encourages him to speed up the movement of his hand

—that's it honey, cum for me

—fuck sungchan!

orgasm hits me like a wave. spasms run through my body, forcing me to press closer against his. i'm at the highest point when i feel the heat of his cum filling me, his heavy breathing hitting my neck

the calm comes to us like a breeze, i feel the rise of his heart couple with mine through slow breath

he lifted his face and our gazes meet, sweat drips from his forehead and his eyes remain glassy. there's something in his fucked-up expression, something beautiful and dirty at the same time. an almost overwhelmelming sensation, which numbs your body and intoxicates your mind

is it possible to become addicted to a sensation?

but when he smiles at me, with a sweet and loving gesture on his face, as his cock stills deep inside me and his cum drips down my thighs, i realize that it is

#riize x reader #riize sungchan #riize smut #riize #sungchan #sungchan smut #sungchan x reader #jung sungchan

85 notes · View notes

badnoahmens · 7 months

Text

I Took Your Keys, It Was Me - Part 2

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Words: 2.5kish

A/N: I’ve never had so many requests to make a part 2 to a fic before, so here’s this. Part 1 found here.

Two weeks had passed now, your normal daily life routine had fallen back into rhythm. A swell of work, sleep, food somewhere in the mix. There was a slight adjustment though, and that was the odd text message from Noah. It wasn’t every day, and no deep, dark secrets were being shared, it was simply a meme, a photo of something mundane, or most of the time, a terrible, terrible, pun.

The communication between the two of you was effortless, like talking to a lifelong friend. There was no sense of urgency, no burdening, no feelings of dread whatsoever, which was unusual for you to feel like that.

Their tour was starting to wind up. Only 1 week left, and 3 cities to visit and perform at. To think back at the meeting you had 2 weeks ago seems like more time had passed than it actually had. It could be because of life going back to normal, or because of all the stories Noah had told you about touring, both old and new.

Your mind got lost in a memory, one of a late night. You were sitting on the couch, dirty dishes on the table in front of you, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly as the TV kept playing in the background.

The sudden vibrations in your hand and a change of screen distracted you from your doom scrolling, seeing Noah’s name flash up. It wasn’t often that he would call, this was only the second time, but there was a comfort in talking to him that didn’t seem to happen with anyone else, especially this quickly after meeting someone.

“You’ll never believe what just happened” he would say, not even letting you say hello. Immediately, he continued. “So, tonight, after the show, we went to get some food because the hungry boys deserved a feast, and then…”

Your mind started to wander. He was so excited about what had happened that he called you. You. Out of anyone in the world. It was something that you tried not to think too deep about, but boy was that hard. He was excited, and thought of your name, and wanted to tell you all about his exciting story.

It was his laugh that brought you back to the conversation, bringing you out of your own head and back to whatever epic tale he was recounting. Something about getting lost and then being chased by some rodent and needing to hide up a tree, then the rodent climbed the tree too… it was hard to follow along with what he as actually saying because of the wheezing and laughter mid-sentence. You couldn’t help but just smile. A big, goofy, toothy grin. He sounded so genuinely happy.

“So, as you can probably guess, I have a new fear of rats now” he finished.

“So what you’re saying is, that big, bad Noah, who wears a ski mask and wraps his hands like a boxer to perform, is scared of a mouse?” You tease.

“Did you not hear me! This rat was the size of a small dog! What if it bit me!” He was off again. Going into strangely specific detail about how big it’s teeth were and how hairless it’s tail was.

Snapping back to reality, you couldn’t help but scroll through your old conversations, giggling once again at some of the photos he chose to share with you. One in particular was a favourite.

It was a selfie, and wore a uniform black outfit of a shirt and beanie. It looked like it was night, the windows showed a dark sky. Although it was a selfie, the photo was aimed over his shoulder, a chaotic scene of arms flailing and frustrated expressions in the band and crews faces. Noah himself looked as though he was stifling a giggle with his eyes semi-closed and lips pursed together. What looked to be a Monopoly board and its game pieces were scattered over the floor, table, and lounge. What you could only imagine is an argument occurred where someone was wrong done by, egos were crushed and friendships were put to the test.

It was these kinds of photos, the casual insights into his life, that made you think more about him than what you probably should.

Almost as though he knew you were thinking of him, a new message from Noah dings in your phone.

“We’re in your town next week!” Is all it said, followed by a second message. “Still offering that tour of the best places to eat?”

Your heart skips a beat. The memory of the offer to show him around your city floods back and you cringe a little at the awkwardness of it all. After musing over a response for a few minutes, you respond.

“I’ve got just the right place in mind”.

————————————————————————

The next week had finally rolled around and you were on your way to the food truck you had told Noah all about. It was… quaint. Set up permanently in an old car park, with some rickety plastic chairs scattered around, it served some of the best food you’ve ever eaten. Throughout the morning, you had changed outfits 4 times, drank 3 coffees, turned the house upside down looking for a hat that you didn’t even wear, and then almost locked yourself out of the house, all thanks to the panic that was starting to set in.

Thoughts if doubt started to creep in, force of habit you guess. Your mind was not the kindest of places, especially to yourself. Some of the things you would say to yourself almost made you pull the plug and not go at all, but you were distracted once again by Noah sending a message confirming the address.

Right now, you were sitting in your car, around the corner from where you were supposedly meeting everyone. You had invited the whole band and crew along to try and ease the awkwardness, but now it has made the whole thing even more daunting.

You leg bounced in its place, nervously tapping a rhythmic and repetitive beat, almost like you were building up the courage to actually get out of the car. A very long 5 minutes passed, and you forced yourself to push open the door. Why was this so nerve-wracking? Was it because it had been building up for a week, or because you were seeing Noah in person for the first time since you last met? Was it because you had brought along the hoodie that he gave you last time to give back to him, but secretly you didn’t want to part with it?

One foot started to move, followed by the other, as you walked closer to the desired location of greasy burgers and fries. Your stomach rumbled fiercely at you, reprimanding your choice to skip breakfast and run only on a caffeine diet this morning. It distracted you enough, right up until you could hear a familiar voice, echoed by a band of laughter.

You stood at the corner, looking at the food truck, seeing all familiar faces crowded around the plastic chairs and tables. Folio was talking to Jolly, making strange expressions and wide arm movements, as though he was telling an age-old story of his, meanwhile Jolly looked as though he had heard it all before. They were the closest, a wall of bodies with their backs turned to you was behind them, a mix of people, of which you could vaguely make out Bryan, Matt, Ruffilo, Dakota, Tim, Steven, and even Miles.

Memories of their faces flash back in your mind, back to the night you met them, sitting around in a circle in the greenroom after their concert. They were so kind to give up their space, time, and drinks for a stranger, let alone a fan of theirs.

There was a shift in the crowd that stood around the plastic table, and then you could see Noah. He was sitting down at one of the chairs, glancing between his phone and his friends around him. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, along with a white graphic tee and some black shorts. He was a simple fashionista, but you’d be damned if you said it didn’t look good on him.

The 10 seconds that you stood there for felt like a lifetime as the bubbling of nerves in your stomach grew. They all seemed to happy and relaxed, and you could help but think, why ruin that?

The devil on your shoulder screamed at you to leave them alone.

They’re happy.

Don’t ruin it for them.

Look how well they’re doing without you there.

You could feel your eyes welling up, threatening to spill over tears at any moment, but you wouldn’t let that happen, especially with the threat of them seeing you like that.

You suck down a shaky breath, holding it in as you turn on your heels. In the end, that voice was right. Why would they need you to join them? A fan, nonetheless, that they met once, to hang out like they were childhood best friends? It was ignorant to think that it could have gone any other way than this.

You could see your car now, almost acting like a safe place. Your steps quickened as you impatiently headed towards your familiar haven to then let the tears fall. That was until you heard your name being called out from behind you. It makes you stop in your tracks. A feeling of panic rises inside your chest as you hear it called a second time.

It was Noah. It was his voice, undeniably, calling out to you.

Your eyes squeezed shut in an effort to fight back the feeling of despair, forcing the tears back. You couldn’t face him like that. You could hear him walking towards you, footfalls growing louder and the keys that jingled by his pocket rang like a warning bell.

Blinking back the fear you still had, you had no choice but to turn and face him. When you did, his face was full of confusion, slightly tilted to the side, eyebrows knitted together like he was trying to figure out what you were doing.

“The food place is this way” he says, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder, glancing back in that direction. “Are you okay?”

“Just got lost, I guess” you lie. He knows. He can tell something is off.

“We’ve been waiting for you. Need some recommendations for this place!” He says enthusiastically. It’s clear as day to see he is trying to cheer you up. He’s reading your situation exactly as it’s playing out. He gives you a look, tilting his head down and raising his eyebrows almost as though to say ‘you coming or what?’

It was his calm demeanour that was the only thing that could have convinced you to stray from your path of heading to the car. The way his eyes pleaded in the gentlest of ways made it feel like it was all going to be okay.

“The burgers are greasy as, and you’ll regret it afterwards, but they’re the best thing I’ve ever eaten” you finally respond with a slightly shaky voice. There’s still an air of hesitancy as you start walking towards Noah, but you admit defeat and cave anyway.

As you step closer, one arm lifts and wraps around your shoulder, pulling you into a side hug as he spins to face the rest of the band of friends. His arm drops and pulls out his phone, taking a quick snap of the food truck as he strides towards it. You need to quicken your pace because the fucker has long legs and walks fast as hell.

As you near the crowd, they turn and meet your gaze. A chorus of “Hey! Good to see you!” “Where have you been? I’m starving!” And “what’s new key-girl” welcomes you.

You throw out a wave, paired with a “good to see you guys again” and a side glance at Noah, who’s smile is beaming as he looks on at the menu hanging on the side of the truck.

The next hour that follows is one filled with jokes, good food, tales from the road and even a short walk down the Main Street of town. Framing each side of the road are buildings of all different architectural styles. Art-deco neighboured modern, which neighboured neoclassical. There was even a gothic-style library building that you walked past. It was something you admired about this small city, it wanted to be so much more than it was, but seemed like it never really got there.

You walked amongst the group, trailing more towards the back, looking up at how the sunlight danced through the buildings, the trees, and reflected on shop front windows. The sky was a picture perfect blue, letting the sun shine down a radiant warm that gently kissed your skin. It was mid-admiration of your surroundings that you see in your peripheral vision that Noah was looking your way. When you finally glanced at him, you were met with a sweet smile, one that was soft but warmed your heart. He looked away quickly, down at his feet, with his hands shoved into his pockets, along with a little giggle as he scuffed a rock with his shoe.

“Thanks for earlier” you say, looking up at him, squinting slightly as the sun was shining behind him, highlighting a glow around his hair, showing every whiff of the wind that tousled loose strands.

“Don’t mention it” he says, swerving to bump his elbow into your side. It took you aback seeing how comfortable he was being this casually playful.

“I wasn't going to come. I was on my way home”

“I know. I could tell. You had the fear of god in your eyes” he said with a smirk. You couldn’t help but notice how one side of his lips curled up a little more than the other when he smiled.

As terrifying as it was to admit, he was right. You were never that good at hiding your emotions, so why would this be any different?

“I’m glad I caught you, though” he continued, looking back at you, with that damn smile again.

“I’m glad too” you reply, looking away from his gaze in an attempt to hide the blushing in your cheeks. There was a moment of silence between the two of you, yet it was comfortable.

You look ahead, glancing between all of the friends, strolling down the Main Street of your town like it was nothing. Like they weren’t these recognisable figures adored by thousands, if not millions. Including you, you admired them. As artists, as people. They had brought you so much joy and yet here you were, just going for a walk with them.

It was only a few minutes later that you reached your destination, the bank of a lake, splitting off into river mouths and down into streams. It was a favourite of yours because of how tranquil it was, how calm it seemed and how it housed an entirely different world beneath the surface that just fascinated you.

There was a concrete wall that ran along the side where the group had started to sit, some propped up and some laying on their backs on the grass next to it.

But you and Noah decided to keep walking for now, continuing the conversation of small talk and banter.

“How long have you lived around here?” Noah asks.

“As long as I can remember. It’s changed a lot over the years. It’s kinda comforting, but it also gets old. I guess it’s different to what you’re used to” you reply, cautiously asking about him, but not wanting to pry.

“Yeah… I guess you could say that. I haven’t really stayed somewhere too long to really get that used to it. I’m at a good place now, though. Living with some of my closest friends” he says, looking ahead into the distance.

“I meant, with tour, you probably see some cool places.”

“Oh, for sure. We have been to some awesome cities, met awesome people. It’s quite a unique lifestyle that’s for sure.” He looks down at you to meet your eyes, “not for the faint of heart”, followed by a wink.

A wink? Dude, come on. You’re already confused about how you feel, and now he throws you a wink? This man.

“It’s a lot of temporary things. Temporary bed. Temporary city. Sometimes temporary people” he was looking out over the water now.

You admire the way he chose his words carefully. It was clear that he had been through some shit, but he was clever and never intentionally dragged up baggage for pity or for entertainment.

“I hope I’m not a temporary person” you say, almost too quiet. He looks at you and smiles, and you panic. Was that too forward? Would he think you’re clingy?

“So do I” he says, then looks away again.

Your heart starts pounding in your chest, and right on schedule, the overthinking-train arrives. What is that supposed to mean? Is he flirting with you? Is this a joke? Are there hidden cameras somewhere filming this whole prank?

Noah can see your mind racing, it might have been the jittery hands or the rapid eye movements to look anywhere but in his direction.

“I hope I haven’t freaked you out” he admits, and in a moment of confidence, you start to question him.

“Is this some kind of cruel prank you play on fans that you meet?” You ask, in an almost harsh tone. Noah is taken aback slightly, pausing his steps to come to a standstill.

“Why would you say that?” He asks sounded offended.

“You can’t blame me. Think about it. Fan meets band. Band and fan hang out. Fan and band become friends. Fan gets feelings for band. This stuff doesn’t happen in real life” you say with a sigh in defeat. Saying it out loud makes it seem more like a joke.

“It’s… it's not a joke. I rarely meet people that seem like good people.” He pauses, thinking of what words to use, carefully plucking them to try and not make you flee. “It’s different for me too, but you seem like someone I really want to get to know”.

There was sincerity in his voice. You looked at him, and there wasn’t an ounce of falsity to him.

“Plus, did you just say that you have feelings for the band?” He asks, cracking a smile.

You throw your head back, covering it with your hands and turn away from him to hide from the embarrassment. Why did you say that? You have feelings for him? What a way to fuck it up now!

“Yeah… I mean… you can’t blame me” you’re stalling. “I mean, have you seen Ruffilo? The man is beautiful”.

Noah smiles and let’s put a small laugh, but his eyes give away that he’s a little offended that you didn’t mention his name.

Fuck. Now does he have the wrong impression? Why is this so hard?

Now you were panicking, trying to think of a way to fix this.

“But really…” you start, trying to quickly think of the right words to say. “Think about it. Even us walking along here together, right now, seems like it’s a bit far-fetched.”

He nods, acknowledging the strange circumstance that led up to this point.

“I don’t want to seem ungrateful. I mean, I get to spend time with you. That’s something I never expected!” You say trying to change the mood, but Noah shifts and crosses his arms, avoiding eye contact.

“No, I get it. It’s to be expected, really. I guess I was a bit delusional for thinking that wouldn’t come up” he looks out over the water, past you, with a solemn expression. I guess you really did hurt his feelings. You internally kicked yourself for royally fucking this all up.

You stop walking, Noah takes one step more than you, then turns to finally meet your gaze. You take a big breath in, close your eyes, and then exhale. Noah looks at you quizzically. When you open your eyes, you give him a soft smile, and hold out your hand to him. He looks at your hand, then back at you.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you” you say kindly, then offering your name to him.

“Is… this… are you okay?” He asks.

You drop your hand and give him an exasperated look.

“I’m trying to start things over”.

“Oh.. oh okay. Hi, I’m Noah” he states, then holding his hand out. You shake it, feeling the warmth of his hands and noticing the calluses forming.

Noah’s phone pings at that moment, he takes a second to type out a response, then puts it back into his pocket.

“Everything okay?” You ask.

“Yeah. The guys said they’re heading back. I’ll meet up with them later.”

“If you need to go, I won’t be offended”

“We only just met! I can’t leave now, that would be rude” he says with a smirk.

You continue to wander, side by side, for the next 30 minutes, at some stage turning and beginning your walk back to your starting point.

“Are you staying locally?” You ask.

“Yeah, we have a hotel tonight. A nice break from the bus. That thing gets crowded and smells bad real quick.”

“I can drive you back there if you need. Your hoodie is in my car too.”

“I said you could keep that” he glances at you with a side eye smirk.

“I know, I feel bad keeping your stuff though”

“I have probably a million pieces of Bad Omens merch. I can even give you more if you want”

Your mind quickly flashed to the mound of merch for this band that you already own. “I don’t think that’s necessary, thank you for the offer though”

“Fine, suit yourself.” He shrugs. “But I will take you up on the offer to drive me to the hotel. Think of it as that driving tour you promised me last time.”

You smile down at your shoes remembering the interaction, the hoodie he gave you, him making sure you got back to your car safely. He did everything so right, and you were trying everything you could to not stuff this up even more.

By the time you got to your car. The sun was starting to set. You hadn't realized that you had spent half a day with Noah until you turned the headlights on.

Noah slipped into your passenger seat, legs so long that they almost needed to be folded over each other just to fit. He rummaged around for the mechanism to move the seat, and finally found it giving him more leg room as he slid back in the chair. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle at the sight.

“What? Man needs his leg room!” He throws his hands forward, motioning to his long limbs, which we’re still bent just to fit. You shook your head a little, playfully, and then pulled the car out to start your journey.

Noah directed you to his hotel, saying it was about a 10 minute drive from here.

“For someone just passing through, you sure do know your way around” you joke, keeping your eyes on the road. Noah, however, was looking at you, like you were having a full conversation, only glancing ahead to point you directions.

He was a passionate talker when he got out of his shell, spoke with his hands a lot. The boy couldn’t keep them still at one point he was almost twisted completely around just to emphasize the story he was telling. He had you in stitches, the way he recounted events and waited for your response, then gave you time to recover from a laughing fit before he continued. He watched you react to his words, he paid attention to the small details, the crinkles by your eyes when you laughed hard, how you would glance at him throughout the conversation to tell him you were listening, even the way your grip would twist around the steering wheel when he was describing a scary part of the story. He noticed everything about you. And you noticed him noticing you.

You had a moment of realization that he was just a person. A person who laughed, who cried, who’s been through shit and now, is just sitting in your car. The sudden wash of relief, the pressure you were feeling, just gone.

The drive comes to an end and you pull up outside the hotel. Nothing too fancy, just to get them through the night. You look up at the building, half its lights were switched on in the three-storey building.

You turn and look at Noah then, the glowing of the lights bouncing off his face making him look as angelic as ever, so much, that it actually made your heart skip a beat. Trying to make sure he didn’t notice the hitch in your breath, you twist at an awkward angle, reaching for the black hoodie on the back seat.

You couldn’t help by notice Noah lean to look over too, your faces now only an inch apart. So close that you could even feel his warm breath each over your cheek. It didn’t help the state of admiration you were already in.

Your fingers graze the material, grabbing at it and finally twisting back into your position in the drivers seat.

“I believe this belongs to you” you say, handing over the garnet.

“I thought I said…” he spoke, pausing to take the hoodie in his hands and hold it out by its sleeves. He then leaned towards you, stretching his arms above you and wrapping the piece of clothing around your back and over your arms, twisting it into a knot on your chest. “You could keep it.” He finished, smiling triumphantly.

The closeness had you feeling a little lightheaded, maybe because you felt like you forgot to breathe around him, or maybe the low lighting made this interaction feel way more intimate than it was.

“I guess…. Thank you” you say, looking into his eyes. All you could see was a sweet dark chocolate brown staring back at you.

Noah’s hand then takes yours as he plants a light kiss on the back of it, placing it back down into his hands again. You couldn’t help but stare with your mouth ajar slightly at the gentlemanly gesture.

“It’s my pleasure.” He pauses again, looking outside then back to you. “If… if I asked you out on a date, would you hesitate to show up to that too?” He asked, sounding honest in his intention, his eyes looked in your hands together.

“A date?” You gawk, almost too quickly. He nods. “I, uh, no. I wouldn’t.”

“Because I’m still in town tomorrow if you’re free.”

“Tomorrow… tomorrow…? Uhh..Nothing on the agenda that comes to mind.” Honestly, you had no idea if you actually had anything in tomorrow.

“Great. It’s a date. I’ll meet you here at 10?” He asks excitedly, that sweet lopsided grin making a comeback.

Your heart was beating through your chest, it was a miracle that he couldn’t hear it.

“10. That works. I’ll be here.” You say, not sounding that convincing.

“I hope so” he replies, paired with another wink. With that, he opens the car door, stepping outside, and closes it with a gentle thud behind him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow” he says with a wave through the window. You couldn’t help but smile back at him, taking in the image of him gentle waving and glancing over his shoulder as he walks to the door. He enters safely, and on his way to his room.

That’s when the excitement hits. You grip the steering wheel tight and let out a squeal. That’s right, a squeal. You have never squealed before in your life, but this man has you feeling so giddy it’s unreal.

With a deep breath, you pull the car out again, heading home, already running through every possible scenario that could happen at 10am the next day.

Part 3

Masterlist

339 notes · View notes