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smileysuh · 9 months

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rogue

🌙 staring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “Lay back,” he instructs next. “I’m going to take your panties off.” Your heart races in your chest as you realize what he’s about to do, and you fall onto your elbows on the hood of his car, breathing heavily as Wonwoo leans down and begins to press kisses up your bare legs. His fingers hook in your panties, and he drags them down, exposing your hot core to the cool evening air. You can’t help the gasp that leaves you, and as Wonwoo positions your thighs over his broad shoulders, you think you might actually faint from the tension.

tw/cw. protected sex, pussy eating, blow job, deep throating, swallowing, oral (f/m receiving), exhibitionism (sex at a lover's lookout on the hood of his car), multiple sex scenes, Wonwoo's broad shoulders #confirmed, teasing through panties, hair pulling, breast worship, mutual orgasm, night terrors, mentions of a bad past, cuddling, etc… I pet names: (hers) angel.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 15.5k I collab. 70's collab

🍭 aus. 70's au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I've been missing Wonwoo, and when his spot in the collab was open, I figured why not?

It’s an hour into the date and you already wish you’d stayed at home. A walk through the town followed by bowling had sounded like a great way to get to know the location you’ve just moved to- however, the guy showing you around is something of a wet towel.

He looks cute enough, but then again, your housemate had promised he would. His name is Carter, and he’s just over six feet tall, with blonde hair, a worn jean jacket, and a nice smile. You’ve tried to give him the benefit of doubt, you really have, but there are some guys you simply can’t force a spark with, and unfortunately, he’s one of them.

When you reach the bowling alley, Carter holds the door open for you, and you flash him a small smile, entering the space.

“Are you excited?” your roommate, Mary, asks. She links her arm with yours, stepping away from her own date to give the boys a moment to talk by the front door while she drags you further into the establishment.

“For bowling?” You look around. “Sure.”

“Carter’s nice, isn’t he?” she presses.

You sigh. “Sure.”

Movement catches your attention, and your gaze shifts to a man working behind the shoe counter. He’s in a dark green sweater, and his black hair shines in the light of the bowling alley. Now he is someone who interests you, and you find yourself tugging on Mary.

“Let's grab shoes,” you tell her.

“Welcome to the bowling alley,” the worker greets you with a smile, and you find that his face is even more handsome while lit up with a friendly expression. “Have you two been here before?”

“I have,” Mary answers for you. “But she’s new to town, so this is her first time.” Your housemate nudges your shoulder and you swallow thickly, nodding.

“It can’t be much different from the bowling alleys in my last city,” you offer.

“You’re right about that,” the pretty man nods. “What size shoe can I grab you?”

You and Mary give him your sizes and he leans down, retrieving the shoes from under the counter. When he passes them over to you, your fingers briefly touch, and your gaze darts up to meet his own.

There’s a very brief pause, a frozen moment that feels like forever, and then he’s tugging his fingers away.

“How much do we owe you?” Mary asks. “For a game?”

“You two are on a double date, aren’t you?” the man asks.

“How could you tell?” you laugh, feeling a little dejected that being out with Carter might dissuade this pretty man in front of you from seeing you as a girl who’s on the market, which you most definitely are.

“I can always tell these sorts of things,” the worker grins. “I’ll let your dates pay when they stop talking by the door and come for shoes.”

“You’re new in town too, right?” Mary asks suddenly, eying the man behind the counter up and down.

“How could you tell?”

“I feel like I’d remember you,” Mary insists. “Besides, most of the guys in this town would have let us pay. You strike me as a good one, someone not from here.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” the worker nods.

“What’s your name?” you ask suddenly, feeling the urge to know it, if even to know him better.

“Wonwoo,” he says, and suddenly coming out tonight feels like the best possible thing you could have done with your time.

You tell him your own name, and he smiles softly at you.

“Enjoy your date,” Wonwoo muses, nodding to the two men who have now come to grab their own shoes.

It sucks to be reminded that you are, in fact, on a date with Carter even while partially drooling over Wonwoo. With a small sigh, you follow Mary to one of the free alleys. There are new mechanized automatic scorer machines, and Mary types in the nickname ‘Baby’ for herself, before nudging you to write in your own.

“Choose something cute,” she tells you, watching over your shoulder.

You punch in the nickname ‘Angel’ and she nods, satisfied.

“Now for Carter, put in Big Guy, and my date should be named Handsome,” Mary insists.

“Are you sure they won’t want to choose their own nicknames?” you ask.

“Who cares what they want?” she shrugs. “I think they’ll like these names.”

With a sigh, you do as you’re told. Your dates approach, and you all slip on your shoes, slotting your discarded runners under the bench you’re sitting on while Mary stands up to bowl first.

It’s a nice establishment, and there’s a Beatles record playing that gives the space a nice ambiance. However, no matter how hard you try, your attention keeps slipping back to Wonwoo.

He’s seated in his little work table station, and you catch him staring back at you a few times when you try to casually look over your shoulder at him.

When Carter moves closer, resting his arm around you, your gaze is quick to dart to Wonwoo, who laughs, looking down at the makeshift paper airplane he’s playing with in his hands.

You get the sense that he’s amused by your interactions with Carter, who lays on the affection more and more as the date continues. In fact, Carter even stands up to show you how to bowl properly, and despite your attempts to squash his so-called ‘help’ he still ends up flattening against your back and guiding you on how to hold your arm when you toss the ball down the lane.

You’re starting to have enough of Carter, and the temptation to go talk to the person you’re really interested in gets the better of you. “Do you guys want drinks?” you ask, addressing your foursome.

“A coke!” Mary chips.

“Make that two,” says her date.

“How about four?” Carter asks, pulling out his wallet to hand you a bill. “Unless you want me to come with you to grab them?”

“No, it’s your turn to bowl. I’ll manage,” you assure him.

He gives you a look that tells you he doesn’t quite believe you, but you’re already running away with his money in your hand. Your eyes are fixed on Wonwoo, who straightens up as you approach.

“Did I hear something about four cokes?” he asks.

“You have good ears,” you muse, nodding. “And yeah, four cokes sounds good.”

“Coming right up,” he smiles, heading from the shoe area to the location they keep beverages. There’s another worker in that section, but he’s so busy playing crossword he doesn’t even look up when Wonwoo begins messing around and grabbing glasses.

“So…” you watch the gorgeous man work, enjoying the way he pushes up his sleeves, revealing strong forearms. “Looks like we’re both new in town.”

“Looks that way,” he agrees.

“How are you liking it?”

“You know, the Pacific Northwest is never somewhere I thought I’d end up,” he admits, looking at you while filling the cups with coke.

“Really?” You assess him up and down. “Are you not a big fan of trees, mist, and small mountain towns?”

“Not a fan of mosquitos,” Wonwoo grins.

“Okay, now that I can understand,” you laugh.

“How’d you end up here?”

“I’m not sure,” you say honestly. “I’d driven through this place a few times, and when I decided I needed to get away from my parents, it felt like a good intermediary location.”

“So you’re not planning on staying here forever?” Wonwoo cocks his head.

“Definitely not.”

“Does that big guy you’re on a date with realize this isn’t a forever thing?”

You let out a small laugh, turning to look at Carter, who is glaring daggers at Wonwoo. “My date’s not even a this week thing,” you admit.

“No?” At this point, you think Wonwoo is purposefully taking his time filling the cups, and you enjoy getting to chat with him. “Why’s that?”

“He’s not my type.”

“He’s tall, blonde, buys you things, holds doors open, offers to show you how to bowl…” Wonwoo counts up Carter’s virtues. “Sounds like the kind of guy any girl in this town would die for.”

“And you’re an expert on what women want?” You cock a brow at the worker.

“I guess not,” Wonwoo admits. “You tell me then, what’s your type?”

You think on it for a moment, then grin. “Cute guys, with dark hair, who wear soft looking sweaters, and work in bowling alleys.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Wonwoo simply stares at you. Then he swallows thickly, and you watch his adam’s apple bob with effort. “Can I take you out sometime?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“I’ll just need to grab your landline number-” Wonwoo begins to explain, but you’re already reaching for a napkin.

“Pen?”

“One sec,” Wonwoo turns and plucks the pencil out of his coworker’s hand, and the man looks up from his crossword in shock. “I’ll give this right back,” Wonwoo promises before handing it to you.

You scribble down your landline number. “I live in a house with two other girls, so you’ll have to ask for me by name,” you explain, signing the napkin just in case he forgets.

“You got it,” Wonwoo grins, accepting your number when you’re finished with it.

“I work evenings,” you explain, “so call in the afternoon, okay?”

“Definitely.” He grabs two of the drinks. “Now let me help you carry these back to your friends.”

“You’re quite the gentleman, aren’t you?” you smile, picking up the other two cups and beginning to walk back to your bowling lane while Wonwoo follows.

“Sometimes,” he muses. “I try.”

It’s been less than twenty four hours since Wonwoo met you and he’s already feeling eager to call. His shift is going slow, and as noon rolls around, he finds himself inching closer to the telephone.

The napkin with your digits is practically burning a hole into his pocket and he pulls it out gingerly, careful not to damage it in any way.

“I’m gonna take a five minute break,” Wonwoo calls to his workmate, who simply nods while completing his crossword. Wonwoo doubts anyone will come in while he does this, but at the same time, he’s not looking to get fired from this shitty job anytime soon.

He begins to dial your number into the phone that hangs on the wall behind the till, and when he’s done, he presses the handset to his ear. His fingers begin to play with the wirey chord, and he looks down at his shoes while it rings.

“Hello?” a feminine voice answers, and Wonwoo is quick to realize it’s not you on the other end of the line.

“Uh, hi,” Wonwoo clears his throat. “I’m calling for y/n?”

“One second,” the girl on the line yells your name loudly and Wonwoo nearly drops the phone from the shrill noise of it all. “Oh, and who’s calling?”

“Tell her it’s the bowling alley guy,” Wonwoo says dumbly. He’s not sure if you’ll remember his name, and he wants to make things easy for you.

“Bowling alley guy?!” The woman sounds excited. “I met you last night! I knew y/n was flirting with you- I knew it!”

“Uh… yeah?” Wonwoo’s really not sure what to say to women most days, let alone during a conversation like this one.

“Poor Carter,” the woman sighs. “He’s going to be devastated.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Wonwoo lies. He thinks it feels like the right thing to say, so he says it.

“Mary, give me the phone.” Now that is your voice, and Wonwoo perks up, holding his breath while he hears a murmured exchange. “Wonwoo?”

“Hey,” he smiles. “Uh, yeah, it’s me.”

“You work fast, don’t you.” He can hear the grin in your own voice and it makes his widen.

“I’m not the kind of guy who plays games or anything,” Wonwoo tells you honestly. “I was really happy to get your number, so I thought I’d call.”

“I’m glad you did.”

There’s a pause while Wonwoo builds up his courage.

He’s done many things in his life, things that people would say were much harder than asking a girl out, and yet, he finds himself becoming tongue tied just talking to you. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and counting to three, like they’d taught him how to do in the military before doing anything that might be considered drastic.

“Are you still interested in going out sometime?” he asks.

“I’d love to.”

His heart skips a beat.

“What were you thinking of doing together?” you question.

He had definitely not thought that far ahead, but he can’t back down now. He scrambles for date ideas, and the first one in his head is, “How about I take you to a roller rink.”

“A roller rink, huh?” You let out a small laugh and he worries he’s suggested the wrong thing.

“We can do something else if you want,” he immediately back pedals.

“No, a roller rink is good,” you assure him. “But I can’t promise I’ll be any good at it.”

“Well… you can hold onto me if you’re afraid you’re going to fall.”

“You know what? I just might,” you giggle again and the sound makes his entire body buzz with happy energy.

He’d never thought when he moved to this stupid small town in the Pacific Northwest that he’d meet a girl like you, and he hardly even knows you yet.

Wonwoo truly can’t explain his attraction to you- it’s simply a feeling he has. Sure, you’re gorgeous, but there’s something deeper, something he can’t put his finger on. He wants to figure you out, and he can’t wait to discover what makes you tick.

“When are you free?” Wonwoo asks.

“Well, it’s Monday now, let me just check my schedule again,” you’re silent for a moment except the sound of a paper flipping. “I generally work Friday through Tuesday, so how about we say Wednesday or Thursday?”

“Wednesday works,” Wonwoo says, pulling out a pen to write it into his own schedule book he keeps in his back pocket.

“Are you that eager to see me?”

He can hear your smile again, and he can visualize it in his minds eye. God, you’re beautiful.

“Maybe,” he admits. “For a town that mostly gets rain, it’s nice to see a little sunshine every now and again.”

The line is quiet, and he worries again if he’s said the wrong thing. Then you let out a shaky laugh. “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

“Not usually,” Wonwoo says seriously.

“No?” you tease. “So you don’t use your job as a place to hit on girls?”

“Never.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“What time should we meet? Or do you want me to pick you up?” Wonwoo is simply eager to get the details solidified in his notebook, to get things written in stone so to speak.

“I live close to the roller rink, so how about we meet there? Does seven sound okay?”

“Works for me,” he nods, eyes shifting to the front door of the bowling alley where a customer has just walked in. “Look, I gotta go-”

“Me too, have a good shift Wonwoo. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

He can’t fucking wait.

You’d chosen one of your cutest outfits. Mary had even whistled when you left your room in the denim pantsuit number, her eyes skimming down to the flared pant legs. “So this is what you wear when you really like a guy,” she’d mused.

You’d done a small twirl, showing off how great the pants make your bum look, and she’d warned you that if Wonwoo got handsy, he’d have her to deal with.

“He’ll be fine,” you’d assured her. “He’s a nice guy.”

“You don’t even know him,” she’s pointed out, and you suppose there’s truth to that. However, at the same time, you just feel like Wonwoo’s not someone who’s a threat, not to you anyways.

He seems like a nice guy, a genuinely nice guy, and excitement surges through you as you make your way to the roller rink.

Wonwoo meets you outside, and you note the way his eyes widen as he looks you up and down. He has the decency to make the motion quick, and you think it must be an automatic reaction, one he’s even ashamed of, because his cheeks flare a pretty pink colour.

He’s absolutely adorable.

Like Carter had, Wonwoo pulls out all the stops. He holds the door open to the rink for you, and pays the small fee to enter. The two of you trade your shoes over and he even bends down to help you tie up the laces on your roller blades, checking to make sure they’re not too tight.

“Have you don’t this before?” he asks as you rise on shaky legs.

“Once,” you admit, noting the steadiness he has in his form. “Have you?”

“Never, but I’ve got good balance,” Wonwoo smiles softly at you.

“I’ll say,” you laugh, shocked at how well he’s holding himself up while you’re wobbling already.

“Here,” he holds out his hand, and you take it, grateful at the extra stability you gain by having him next to you. The two of you make your way to the side of the roller rink and you watch couples going around in circles.

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” you sigh, feeling overwhelmed by the speed and ease at which the other people are moving.

“You can do it,” Wonwoo assures you. “I won’t let you fall.”

“Promise?” You squeeze his hand.

“Promise.” He squeezes yours back, and then he takes a step onto the rink, looking back at you.

You take a deep breath before following him, grabbing at his arm with your free hand. The rink is much more slippery than the carpeted floors had been, and you marvel again at Wonwoo’s balance.

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” you ask in shock.

“Positive,” Wonwoo grins.

“I don’t believe you,” you laugh, letting him pull you along as you get the hang of being on roller skates.

“You don’t have to believe me,” Wonwoo muses, turning so he can hold both your hands. He’s moving backward now, and you think he must be lying to you. “You just have to focus on your feet.”

“While you focus on what? You’re skating backwards!”

“I’m focusing on you,” Wonwoo says softly, flashing you a small smile.

“You and your charming words again,” you shake your head, enjoying the way he makes you feel.

“Only for you,” Wonwoo muses, guiding you around the roller rink. “Look, now that you’re not thinking about it so hard, you’re doing better.”

“I’m doing better because I’m holding both of your hands and you’re steadying me,” you counter.

“Take your small win,” Wonwoo advises you.

“No,” you say stubbornly.

He only laughs at your antics. “Do you think you can do it with one hand again?”

You consider letting go of his fingers, and part of you doesn’t want to, but you know he should probably be skating next to you again, watching where he’s going, so you concede. “Fine.”

“How often do people usually skate for?” Wonwoo asks suddenly.

“Are you bored already?” you laugh. “We just got here!”

“Not bored,” he smiles. “Just thinking that it would be nice to go grab milkshakes after this.”

“That would be nice,” you admit. “How about this, I’ll tell you when my legs start to hurt and we can go then? Or if I fall, I think we should call it quits.”

“Deal,” Wonwoo laughs. “Although, I hope you know, I’d never let you fall.”

He squeezes your hand gently, and your heart thumps loudly in your chest.

Wonwoo is such a charmer, but you don’t mind one bit.

You find yourself in a diner not an hour later, and your thighs are burning from the roller skating exercise you’d not been used to. “Are you more into chocolate, or vanilla?” Wonwoo asks suddenly, his gaze fixed on the menu in front of him.

“I like them both, what do you think we should get?”

He looks up. “You mean… we’re going to share one?”

“Were you thinking of ordering two?”

“I mean…” his skin flushes that pretty shade of pink and he lets out a small cough. “I uh…”

“We can order our own,” you tell him, wanting to smooth the miscommunication over.

“No, we should share one,” he insists, looking determined. “Whatever flavour you want.”

“Are you sure?” you cock a brow at him, and he gives you a curt nod, jaw set.

The waitress shows up and you order your favourite milkshake. Wonwoo fiddles with the menu that’s been left on the table and you take the opportunity to assess him.

He’s a bit of an enigma.

He’d seemed so confident when you’d first met him at the bowling alley, but now that you’re on a date with him, he has these shy moments. He’s endearing, and you can feel yourself falling for him, which is kind of scary to admit to yourself.

The milkshake is set between you, two straws sticking out of the whipped cream topping.

“Thank you,” Wonwoo says politely to the waitress, who simply nods and scurries away, giving you some privacy for your date.

You and Wonwoo move toward the straws at the same time, and your hands brush as you both reach for the cold glass.

“Oh,” Wonwoo immediately retracts his hand. “Sorry, you go first.”

“You’re cute,” you tell him. “Don’t you want to sip together?”

“Can we do that?”

“Of course, silly,” you laugh. “Come on, lean in.”

He eyes you as if you’re tricking him, but after a breath, he follows through. You both lean over the table, and you reach for your straw, bringing it to your lips while Wonwoo does the same.

He’s so close to you, and he’s even prettier at this short distance. His eyelashes are particularly enthralling, and his dark brown eyes look rich and warm in the diner’s light.

Wonwoo’s gaze dips down, and you watch him try to hide a smile while you both take your first sips of the milkshake.

Then, you’re pulling away again, and Wonwoo’s reaching a hand to rub the back of his neck. “I have to admit,” he sighs, “I don’t do this often.”

“What, date?” you cock your head to the side, assessing him.

“Uh… yeah,” he nods.

You’re a little shocked at how a guy as cute as he is can get through life without being asked on numerous dates a week. “Are you not looking for a relationship, or…?”

“It’s not that,” Wonwoo assures you, swallowing thickly. “It’s just, my last job made it sort of impossible.”

“Yeah? And what job was that?” you ask, taking another sip of your milkshake.

Wonwoo lets out another chuckle, but this one isn’t very humorous. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“Wow, a mystery boy- it wouldn’t have to do with an underground cartel working out of a bowling alley would it?” you tease.

“Definitely not,” he smiles.

“Are you really not going to tell me?”

“Not tonight,” he shakes his head, and you realize there’s no use pressing him on this.

“But maybe another night?”

“Maybe,” he nods.

“Then let's talk about something other than work,” you suggest. “Have you gone fishing around here? I know this town has some really good rivers and lakes in the forest around here.”

“I’m not a fisherman,” he tells you.

“Do you not have the patience for it?”

“Not the patience so much as the willingness to hurt the fish.”

“I’ve heard it doesn't hurt them.”

“Sure you have,” Wonwoo smiles to himself. “Also, I don’t eat fish, so it would be a waste.”

You like getting to know him. He’s a peculiar man, and every detail you find out only makes you more interested.

After your milkshake, Wonwoo had insisted on walking you home. “You never know what creeps are out at night,” he’d told you, wrapping his jacket around your shoulders to protect you from the September air.

You’d talked about books, schooling, hobbies and such, and Wonwoo had been the one asking you the majority of the questions as you’d slowly made your way home. He’s even more secretive than you’d initially realized, and you wonder what details you’re even going to give your friends when you debrief them on the date later.

“So this is mine,” you say when you come to a stop in front of your rental house.

“Can I walk you to your door?”

You look up at your home then back at the pretty man. “I don’t see why not.”

You notice his ears are flushed, and you get a sense that he might try to kiss you. Each step towards your door feels like an eternity, and your heart is racing in your chest.

Coming to a stop on your doormat, you turn to look at Wonwoo. “I should give you your coat back.”

“Keep it for next time.”

“There’s going to be a next time?” You cock a brow.

“There better be,” he laughs. “Unless.. Unless you don’t want to go out again?”

“I’d love to see you again,” you assure him. Your gaze shifts down to his mouth and you find yourself licking your lip, biting it between your teeth as you wait for him to make a move.

You notice that his eyes are also shifting down, and you hold your breath.

He leans forward-

The door to your home is thrown open and Mary is standing there.

Wonwoo practically jumps away from you, and Mary grins wickedly. “Look what the cat dragged in,” she smirks.

You sigh. “Mary this is Wonwoo, Wonwoo you’ve met Mary.”

“Right, yeah, of course,” he nods. “How’s your night been?”

“Not as good as yours it looks like,” Mary says sassily. “We’ve been waiting on our third to watch a girls movie, unless she was about to invite you in.”

“Mary,” you whisper a warning.

“Looks like you’ve had no such luck, pal,” Mark laughs. “Thanks for walking her home.” She grabs your hand and tugs you into the house.

“I’ll call you,” Wonwoo promises.

You push Mary into the hallway before leaning out the door, getting close to Wonwoo again. “You better,” you smile, a sudden rush of courage surging through you as you lean forward to press your lips to his cheek. “Goodnight.”

He’s smiling as you pull away, and you’re struck by how beautiful he is. “Goodnight,” he echos.

“Get home safe,” you warn.

“I always do.”

You watch him walk away, and he stops on the sidewalk, turning to give you one last wave before you close your door.

“He’s cuter than Mary said,” your third roommate, Jessica, notes from the living room as she watches him head down the street.

“He’s very cute,” you agree, tugging his jacket tighter around your form.

“Are you two having another date?”

“Yup-” you suddenly realize you’d never gotten his number. Which means Wonwoo truly has complete control of contacting you again.

The jacket still wrapped around you is something like insurance that he will call, but you’re a touch saddened that you’ll have to wait for him to find the time to reach out.

He’s a good one, and you really don’t want to let him off the hook just yet.

“So tell us about your date!” Mary grins, jumping onto the couch. “Is Carter really out of the running?”

“Carter has nothing on Wonwoo,” you laugh.

“I really don’t see how that’s possible-”

“Mary, if you like Carter so much, you should date him yourself,” you point out. “I don’t know, Wonwoo is just- he’s a good guy. I really enjoyed being out with him. He held me up at the roller rink and we shared a milkshake-”

“That’s original,” Mary scoffs.

“It was cute!” you insist. “I need a bit of cute in my life,” even if he does joke about having to kill you if he tells you about his last job.

When your phone had rung at noon on Thursday, you’d jumped at the idea it might be Wonwoo, but it had only been the diner you work at, asking if you could cover a shift.

You suppose you need the money, but as you manage the small dinner rush, you find it hard to take your mind off of Wonwoo. You keep replaying the small moments in your head, how he’d held both your hands to help you rollerblade, moving effortlessly backward, or how you’d both leaned in for the milkshake, noses almost touching.

The kiss that could have been feels fresh in your mind, and you’d given Mary a royal talking to about opening the door at the moment she had.

What would he have tasted like if you had kissed him? Would his lips have been as soft as they look? Would he have grabbed your hips and tugged you close to his chest?

You’re so busy thinking about Wonwoo that you almost don’t realize he’s walking past your diner until he comes to a stop, staring at you through the window while you take a couple’s order.

You nearly drop your notepad, only to snap yourself out of it and finish scribbling two burgers with extra cheese. “Can I grab you anything else?” you ask, forcing your gaze to shift to the customers.

“That’s it for now,” the man smiles, and you scurry off to give the cook the order.

Your back is to the front door of the diner, but when you hear the bell ring, you know what you’ll find when you turn around.

Wonwoo looks a little windswept, and he’s wearing glasses today.

He looks so handsome you could die.

“Hi,” you smile, approaching him and fidgeting with your apron.

“Hi,” he grins. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Sometimes, usually on Thursdays, which, now that I think of it, didn’t you say you weren’t working tonight?”

“You have a good memory,” you breathe. “I uh, picked up a shift.”

“I’m glad I walked by, I was almost going to skip coming in and get a burger from the joint down the road.”

“Andy’s Burgers?” you ask in shock. “No, no, no, you have to have one of ours. They’re much better.”

“I wasn’t planning on sitting in to eat, but what the hell, can I grab a booth?”

“Of course,” you wave at the open seating. “Anywhere you’d like.”

“Thanks,” Wonwoo smiles at you, turning to slip into one of the blue and white coloured booths.

You’re quick to go grab him a menu, and you scurry over, heart racing in your chest. “So how’s your night going?”

“Better now,” he grins. “I actually uh, called you an hour ago, and no one answered-”

“We’re all working tonight,” you muse.

“I’m glad I caught you.” There’s a sincerity in his words and it makes your skin heat. “I probably shouldn’t be asking you about this while you’re at work-”

“Ask anyways.”

“How do you feel about going for a drive on our next date? I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything.”

There have been a string of unsolved murders lately, and you’d be lying if you said they weren’t concerning you, but at the same time, the missing women are half a country away, in New York.

You cock your head, assessing Wonwoo. “Are you sure about that, mister ‘if I told you about my last job I’d have to kill you’?”

“You know what, fair, out of context, that sounds very ominous-”

“I trust you,” you insist. “A drive would be great.”

“How do you feel about Sunday?”

“Sunday works, I get off at eight.”

“Perfect.” Wonwoo plays with the menu in front of him. “Should I pick you up here or at your place?”

“Let’s say eight thirty at my place, I want to get dressed up for you.”

Wonwoo grins, gaze shifting down at the table. He pushes his glasses up his nose, then he eyes you again. “I think you always look pretty.”

“Really? Is this a nice apron?” You tug at the material wrapped around your waist and Wonwoo’s grin widens.

“The nicest apron I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ll send my manager your regards,” you tease. “What can I get you for dinner?”

“A bacon cheeseburger, please.”

God, you love a man with manners.

“Any drink?”

“Just water, thanks.”

“The burger comes with fries, is ketchup okay?”

“It’s perfect.”

“I’ll be back with your order shortly,” you smile, finishing up on your notepad.

“Take your time,” Wonwoo assures you.

As you move away to the kitchen to put the order in the window, you get the suspicion that Wonwoo’s watching your ass. Hell, you hope he’s checking you out.

With so few people in the restaurant, and burgers being a fairly fast food menu item, you find yourself serving the couple their dinner in no time. It’s almost torture to not look over at Wonwoo, to know he’s watching you work.

You bring him his water and you take the opportunity to chat with him again. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“I usually wear contacts,” he tells you.

“Right, I heard about that new brand that came out. Are they any good?”

“I could see you pretty well last night with them in,” Wonwoo smiles.

“Good. That outfit was meant to be seen.”

“It sure was.”

Flattery will get him everywhere- but before you can say anything else, the kitchen bell dings, signifying an order is up. When you turn your head, you see Wonwoo’s burger sitting in the window. “I’ll be right back with your food,” you assure him, scurrying off.

As you’re bringing Wonwoo his plate, a family enters the diner. Your attention is effectively transferred to them, no matter how much you wish you could just watch Wonwoo devour his burger and thirst for him.

The two adults and their three kids are very rowdy, and you bring over some colouring sheets with crayons, as well as a tray of water in plastic cups. Your focus shifts between Wonwoo and the family while they look over the menus, and when they put them down, you head over again, notepad in hand.

By the time you’re done taking their very complicated and long order, Wonwoo’s finishing up his meal, licking his fingers clean in a way that makes you salivate as you run to the kitchen to quickly give the chef the new list of food.

“Can I leave the money on the table?” Wonwoo calls, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.

“I’ll be right there-”

“I’ve got somewhere to be,” he says, casually tossing a few bills onto the counter. “Thanks, y/n.”

“Bye, Wonwoo.” You hate watching him leave, but as you approach his table, you find he’s left you a very generous tip.

When you head back to the kitchen window, the chef leans through. “You know that guy?” he asks.

“Yeah. I hear he’s a bit of a regular here?”

“Started coming in two months ago,” the chef nods. “He’s a little weird.”

“Weird?” you cock your head to the side, watching the chef flip burgers. “How so?”

“He only ever comes in alone, usually just orders a black coffee, and watches other customers. I don’t know how you talked him into getting a burger today, but… yeah, a little off.”

You assess the chef. While he seems like a good guy, you wonder if there are any other biased reasons he might be rubbed the wrong way by Wonwoo.

“I think Wonwoo’s just…” you search for the word to defend him, “unique. He’s really nice, when you start to get to know him.”

“I hope you’re right about that,” the chef sighs. “If things don’t work out and you need someone to tell him, or any man, to back off, just let me know.”

“Thanks, chef,” you smile. “I’ll let you know if I need your help.”

You think maybe the chef is simply worried about you as a young woman entering the town’s dating pool with very little experience.

However, when it comes to Wonwoo, you’re pretty sure you have nothing to worry about.

You’ve decided to wear an orange floral boho style dress for your second date with Wonwoo. It reaches your mid thigh, and when you do a twirl for your roommates, Mary starts to scream about how beautiful you are.

“You’re going to give that boy a heart attack,” Jessica grins.

“Or a boner,” Mary agrees.

“Lets try for both,” you tease, gaze shifting out the front window just in time to see a car pull up. “I think that’s him!”

Your roomates jump up to get a look outside, and Jessica frowns. “I don’t know why, but I didn’t picture him as a 1966 Chrystler Imperial kind of guy.”

“Yeah, for some reason I thought he’d have a nicer muscle car.”

“Don’t be rude,” you remind Jessica. “And to be fair, he did just move here, muscle cars have limited room- I bet he has a car like this for the space.”

“Because you know him so well after only one date,” Mary rolls her eyes.

“You know what?” You grab your keys and head to the door, throwing Wonwoo’s jacket around your shoulders. “I do!”

Without another word to your roommates, you head outside, practically jumping down the steps. Wonwoo’s exited his car by now, and he’s come around to lean against the passenger’s side door, which he opens for you upon approach.

“Hi,” he grins.

“Hi!” you echo, throwing your arms around his shoulders to pull him into a hug.

His hands are hesitant, but they settle on your hips, holding you tighter. You take a deep breath, enjoying the embrace, and his woodsy scent washes over you.

“So where are we driving to?” you ask when you pull away.

“One of my coworkers said there’s this nice spot, I thought I’d take you there,” Wonwoo suggests. It’s so very vague, and so very Wonwoo.

“Works for me,” you grin, allowing him to take your hand and help you into the car.

As you close your door, you notice Wonwoo waving at your roommates who are staring from the living room window. Jessica immediately ducks down and you laugh to yourself.

“The girls you live with seem nice,” Wonwoo notes as he enters the driver’s seat.

“They’re alright,” you smile. “Do you have any roommates?”

“No, I live alone.”

“That must be nice.”

“It’s quiet.”

“Are you the kind of guy that likes the quiet?”

Wonwoo considers your question for a moment. “I used to be. But some days, it can be lonely.”

It’s the first time he’s really gotten deep with you. He’s being vulnerable, and your breath catches in your throat.

You reach out and rest your hand on top of his on the gear shift, giving him a gentle squeeze. “If you ever need company, you know where to find me.”

“I might take you up on that,” Wonwoo flashes a small smile, but you can tell it’s an aversion tactic. You don’t mind dropping the topic, and you take your hand away, looking at the road.

Wonwoo’s pulled off the main street and is heading up one of the dirt roads that leads into the forest. It’s a path you know well, and your heart thumps when you realize where Wonwoo must be taking you.

“Are we going to Hellyhill Lookout?” you ask softly.

“Uh huh, have you been?” Wonwoo sneaks a glance at you.

“Not personally, no, but I’ve heard it’s nice.”

“Okay,” he nods. “Good.”

“Do you…” you lick your lip. “Did your coworker tell you what kind of lookout it is?”

“What do you mean?”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, and you enjoy the switchbacks of the road, the way the tall trees fly past. “It’s a lover’s lookout.”

“A lover’s lookout,” Wonwoo repeats.

“You know, a place that teens drive to so they can make out in their cars?”

Wonwoo practically chokes on air, and his grip tightens on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t know-”

“Don’t be sorry,” you try to assure him, but he’s already beginning to blush.

“We can go somewhere else-”

“Really,” you reach for his hand again, “Wonwoo, it’s fine.”

“I can’t believe my coworker would suggest this-”

You can tell that your words aren’t helping his anxiety, so you lean over the bench seat, pressing your lips to his cheek. He freezes under the motion. “Wonwoo,” you whisper again, “I want to go to a lover’s lookout with you. Stop panicking, please.”

He takes a shuddery breath. “Okay.”

You look out at the road again. “Pull over at the next stop,” you instruct. “The lookout is just through the trees.”

Wonwoo does as you say, and pretty soon you’re entering a small, empty parkinglot. You suppose it’s a school night, and you’ve heard this spot is busiest on Fridays and Saturdays.

The privacy is welcome, and Wonwoo slowly pulls to a stop. The view is breathtaking as the sun sets behind a mountain. Even from inside his car you can see the whole small town down below, twinkling and nestled amongst the Pacific Northwest geography.

“Wow, Wonwoo-” you turn to say something, but suddenly he’s cupping your face and pressing his lips to yours.

The shy man you’ve been getting to know is gone, and you melt into the kiss, closing your eyes while your thoughts disappear. His touch is gentle on your cheek, but his fingers slip around to cup the back of your head, and when his tongue glides across your lower lip, you open your mouth for him, granting him access.

You stifle a groan, reaching out to grab the front of his shirt, pulling him closer while also sliding across the bench seat, your knees pressing against his thigh.

Already, you want to be closer. You wish he’d grab your hips and pull you on top of him, but he doesn’t, he simply kisses you. You can feel your panties beginning to stick to your core, and when his lips move to your throat, you stifle a moan, fingers flexing against his shirt.

“Wonwoo, I need more-”

“I didn’t bring condoms,” he says against your neck.

“I don’t care-”

“I’m not about to get you pregnant on our second date.”

“How… responsible of you,” you laugh, feeling a little disappointed. “You could always just… I don’t know, pull out?”

Now it’s Wonwoo’s turn to chuckle, and he shakes his head. “Here, I have an idea.” He pulls away from you, and you’re left frowning. “Come outside with me.”

“But-”

He cups your face. “Do you trust me?”

You sigh. “Fine.” Maybe the cold air will calm you down, maybe you can convince him to bring condoms next time.

You exit the car, coming around the front to join Wonwoo. “Here,” he says, reaching for your hand and gently tugging you so you’re standing with your back to his chest while he leans against the hood of the vehicle.

He wraps you tightly in his arms, and you release a sigh when he begins to kiss your neck again.

“Are you trying to torture me?” you ask.

“Angel, if I was trying to torture you, you’d know it.”

“Yeah?” you can feel his cock through his jeans, and you begin to grind back against him. “And how would I know it?”

“Well for starters,” his hand snakes down the front of your dress, and he grabs at the fabric by your thighs, dragging it up, “I wouldn’t be doing this.” His lips return to your throat. “Can I touch you properly?”

“I’d be angry if you didn’t,” you confess, resting your head back against his shoulder.

Wonwoo’s hand slips under your dress, and he cups your pussy, two fingers begining to rub you through your panties. A whimper slips past your lips, and you wiggle your hips, wanting more pressure, which Wonwoo gives you.

“Feels good?” he asks, breath hot against your throat.

“So good,” you nod. “For a guy who doesn’t do this sort of thing often, you definitely know how to handle women.”

Wonwoo simply laughs, but doesn’t respond more than that, continuing to tease you through your panties until you’re wriggling against his hand and cock. Then his free arm moves around to stop your hips, keeping you pinned to his chest. “Stop moving,” he says lowly, breath hot against your neck.

“I can’t help it,” you whimper, your pussy throbbing with need.

“Are you close, Angel?” He smiles against your throat and a shiver runs up your spine.

You nod, not able to find the words to admit to him that a little teasing through your panties has already taken you to the edge.

Wonwoo pulls away from your neck, and you feel him look around. You’re still the only two people in the dark parkinglot.

“I’m gonna put you on the hood of my car now,” Wonwoo tells you.

You don’t really know what he’s thinking of doing to you, but there’s no way you’re going to question him now. You’re as compliant as ever, letting him adjust you and lift you onto his vehicle.

“Lay back,” he instructs next. “I’m going to take your panties off.”

Your heart races in your chest as you realize what he’s about to do, and you fall onto your elbows on the hood of his car, breathing heavily as Wonwoo leans down and begins to press kisses up your bare legs.

His fingers hook in your panties, and he drags them down, exposing your hot core to the cool evening air. You can’t help the gasp that leaves you, and as Wonwoo positions your thighs over his broad shoulders, you think you might actually faint from the tension.

His breath is warm against your entrance and your thighs quiver with anticipation. There’s nothing for you to grab onto while on the hood of his car, so you bundle your hands in your dress, pulling the fabric higher so Wonwoo has easier access to your core.

His own palms flatten along your thighs, fingers digging against your skin while he kisses closer and closer to where you need him most, his lips light like feathers.

“God,” you groan. “Please!”

The bastard smiles, and you realize how much he’s enjoying teasing you. How did your shy bowling alley boy turn into a demon like this?

He presses a soft kiss to your clit and the sensation has you gasping loudly. Most men who’ve eaten you out have started rough and ended rough, but it’s clear to you already that Wonwoo is not like other men. It’s absolutely insane how good the feather light touches can feel, and when he kitten licks your folds your stomach clenches.

“Please, I need more-” you beg, pushing your pussy closer to his face.

“Why won’t you let me enjoy you slowly?”

“Because-” your breath catches, “I need to cum!”

“Already?”

“Wonwoo, I swear to God-” You don’t even get to finish your sentence because he gives in, pressing his mouth against your core and pushing his tongue into your tight hole. Your hips push up involuntarily, and your clit brushes by Wonwoo’s nose, which sends shivers of pleasure down your legs.

He must notice the way you react from clit stimulation because he wraps his lips around the sensitive bud, flicking at it with his tongue.

Your whole body tenses. You’re so close to your orgasm you could die-

Wonwoo groans against your pussy and that’s all you need to topple over the edge, pussy throbbing as you come undone for him.

Your eyes are clenched shut and your back arches off the hood of his car. Pleasure surges through your entire body, radiating out from between your legs. Wonwoo doesn’t let up on you though, he keeps licking your pussy, working you through your orgasm until you’re a complete quivering mess, shaking and moaning like you’ve never shaken and moaned before.

You’re breathless, body tingling with afterwaves of your orgasm when Wonwoo finally pulls away from your pussy. You watch under hooded lids as he wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, licking his lips.

With the limited light, it’s hard to see details, but you can tell his pupils are blown.

Honestly, condoms be damned, you need this man to fuck you, and you need it now.

“Wonwoo-”

There’s a flash of light and his gaze shifts past you. You hear the familiar crunch of tires on graveled dirt, and you realize another car is pulling down the path to the lookout.

“Shit,” Wonwoo cusses, standing up and fixing your dress over your thighs. He reaches out for your hand. “Come on.”

“What about you?” you ask, knowing he’s probably aching in his jeans.

“I’m not about to make you blow me in my car.”

“What if I want to, though?” you question.

Wonwoo takes a deep breath, pulling you to your feet and holding you close. “Another time,” he assures you.

You tug on the front of his shirt, letting your lips ghost past his own. “Are you sure?”

He nods. “I wanted tonight to be about you.”

“Blowing you can still be about me.”

Wonwoo laughs. “Next time.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise,” he confirms.

“You know… I like a man with self control.”

He simply shakes his head at you, letting you go so you can both get back in his car. “Let’s go for a drive,” he suggests, “because if we don’t, my self control might just snap.”

Your whole week is spent with you on edge, but your third date with Wonwoo finally arrives on your next Wednesday off. He’s suggested a movie date, and you’re not exactly sure how you’re going to get touchy with him in a car surrounded by other couples- but as the date approaches, you realize that you probably won’t be the only duo getting a little frisky while watching the new James Bond movie, Live or Let Die.

You’re waiting outside when Wonwoo picks you up, and you enter his vehicle, leaning over the bench seat to press your lips to the corner of his mouth. “Hi,” you grin. “I missed you.”

“I uh…” he swallows thickly, “I missed you too.”

“What time is the movie again?” you ask.

“Uh,” Wonwoo checks his watch. “Fifteen minutes?”

“Then we should get going.” You settle in your seat while he takes you to the drive in movie. He pays for your tickets, and rolls into the parking lot, finding a spot. Your windows are already down, and there’s a speaker set up outside your doors so you can both hear the sound.

“Do you want popcorn or anything?” Wonwoo asks.

“Not right now, maybe later,” you grin, sliding closer to him.

Wonwoo adjusts, resting his arm behind you and allowing you to tuck against his shoulder. “I’m happy to be here with you.”

“I’m happy you came,” Wonwoo admits. “I’ve been wanting to see this movie.”

“Yeah? You like spies?”

“I think the way Hollywood portrays them is… interesting.”

“Right, because you’re an expert on spies, huh?”

Wonwoo grins. “Something like that.”

He begins to play with your hair, stroking it gently, and you rest one of your hands on his thigh, enjoying the muscles and denim. God, it’s so hard to be near Wonwoo and not get horny, almost impossible you would say.

The film begins, and you do your best to focus on it, to no avail.

Wonwoo’s still stroking you, and each drag of his fingers by your hair makes your panties wetter. You’re determined to repay the favour he’d done for you last time, and finally you’ve had enough.

“Wonwoo.”

“Hmm?” He sneaks a glance from the movie to look at you.

“I need something to suck on.”

“I can go grab you something from the concession-”

“No,” you shake your head. “I need you to suck on.”

“You need…” he coughs. “You need me.” It’s almost as if he doesn’t believe it.

“Uh huh,” you nod. “Will you let me make you feel good?”

“I-” his words cut off into a groan when you cup him through his jeans, and you realize he’s already half hard.

“Looks like you need me too,” you smile, leaning forward to press your lips to the side of his throat. He jolts a little at the contact, angling his head back to give you more space to begin to suck on his skin.

“Fuck,” he groans, and the sound goes straight to your core.

Why’s he so sexy. Like. How is this legal.

You’ve decided Wonwoo is illegal. No one should be this hot. It’s a panty dropping hazard, as you’re beginning to see for yourself.

“Will you let me suck you off?” you ask. “Please?”

He swallows thickly. “Yeah.”

“Good,” you grin, pressing one last kiss to his cheek before you begin to undo his jeans. You’ve never undressed someone so fast in your life, and a few moments later he’s lifting his hips to allow you to tug his pants down, his cock springing free.

You lick your lips, already salivating at the sight of him.

He’s somehow perfect everywhere. From his handsome face and gorgeous hands all the way down to his pretty cock, which is probably around seven or eight inches. It’s a good thickness, with a vein running along the underside that you want to trace with your tongue.

“Just, make sure no one sees,” you whisper, as you dip your head down, hoping the car doors will hide your body from view of other movie goers.

“Angel,” Wonwoo lets out a shaky breath, “I’m pretty sure the guy in the car next to us is doing the same thing with his girlfriend.”

That makes you feel a little better, as you wrap your hand around the base of his cock and bring its head to your lips, kitten licking and earning a groan from Wonwoo. His hand finds your hair again, stroking you as you take more of him into your mouth.

You haven’t blown a guy in a while, and it feels empowering to be pleasuring someone again. Wonwoo’s small moans are already making this more than worth it, and his constant touch through your hair is extra encouragement.

You sink yourself onto his cock, taking as much of him as you can. You’re trying to be gentle, but you get more daring as you go, sucking harder, which makes Wonwoo’s hips jolt below you. The head of his cock hits the back of your throat and you gag slightly. His grip tightens in your hair, and he curses, breathing heavily.

You want to make this man cum like you’ve never wanted to make any man cum in your entire life, so you go harder on him, pushing through the discomfort in the back of your throat. You focus on your tongue movements, the pressure of your sucking motions and the way you’re bobbing your head.

“Shit,” Wonwoo groans. “Slow down-”

You refuse. This is personal. You want to see how fast you can make him come undone. You want Wonwoo to be mouth whipped for you, if he’s not already obsessed after having a taste of your pussy last time.

It might be a little insecure of you, but you’re not one hundred percent sure Wonwoo wants you the way you want him. You need to be sure. You need to know he’s not going to leave you, like most people in your life have.

“Angel,” Wonwoo’s voice lacks conviction, and you think he can tell you’re not intent on letting up anytime soon. When you release a moan around his cock, Wonwoo matches the sound. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You suck him even harder and Wonwoo pants above you, fingers flexing in your hair. He lets out a strangled sound as he reaches his high, and he shoots his load down your throat. You do your best to swallow like a good girl, continuing to bob yourself on his cock, wanting to milk him for all he’s worth-

“Shit, angel,” Wonwoo’s voice is breathless, almost whimpery, and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. The last rope of cum goes down your throat and you finally let up, swallowing and pulling off his cock You take a deep breath, wiping your hand against the back of your mouth.

Wonwoo looks beautiful. His skin is flushed, his lips parted, and he’s looking at you in a way that no man has ever looked at you before. You want to kiss him so badly, but you’re very aware of his salty taste still in your mouth.

“I’m going to go get a drink,” you tell him.

“What?” He blinks. “Right now?”

“Yeah,” you nod, already reaching for the door handle. If you stay in this car with him any longer, you will jump his bones. You need the cool air and a breather, a way to slow your racing heart, and more importantly, you need your damned pussy to stop throbbing because you’re not getting laid tonight.

As you weave through the cars, you notice a group of men standing at the concession. They watch as you approach, and you do your best to downcast your eyes, feeling your skin heat. There’s no lineup for ordering and you’re quick to ask for two cokes, hoping that you’ll be able to head back to Wonwoo faster than people waiting for popcorn.

“Hey pretty girl,” one of the men calls, and it only takes you a moment to realize he’s talking to you.

You don’t respond.

“I said,” he steps closer, “hey pretty girl.”

“Hi,” you say quietly.

“What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing here alone?” the man questions.

“I’m not alone.”

“I don’t see a boyfriend.”

“He’s in the car,” you insist.

“He must not care about you that much if he sent you out for drinks all by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Wonwoo’s voice makes you turn, and you let out a shaky breath at his sudden appearance.

“And who are you?” The man hitting on you puffs up his chest.

“The boyfriend who you don’t think cares,” Wonwoo says steadily. “I do care,” he turns to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and lowering his voice to address you. “You ran away pretty quick, are you okay?”

“Uh huh,” you nod. “Just thirsty.”

“Two cokes!” the concession girl announces right on schedule, and you reach up to retrieve them, taking a sip of one and letting out a soft sigh while Wonwoo tosses a bill onto the counter.

“Come on, is this guy really your boyfriend?” It looks like the man harassing you doesn’t want to quit.

“I am,” Wonwoo confirms, for the second time, and it makes your heart race in your chest.

The man takes a step forward. “I want to hear the girl say it. I don’t believe you.”

“I think you better back off.” Wonwoo’s voice has lowered an octave, and you’ve never seen him behave this way.

“Or what?” The catcaller has about two inches on Wonwoo, and he’s built like a bull, puffing his chest out again as he looks down at the man you met in a bowling alley of all places.

“Maybe you should try me and find out?” Wonwoo suggests.

The big guy laughs, and then in one motion, he takes a swing at Wonwoo.

Wonwoo dodges the man’s fist easily, grabbing his forearm and adding to the forward momentum. Before you know what’s really happening, Wonwoo’s manuevered the man onto the ground, twisting his arm behind his back and pressing a knee just below that.

“I think you should say sorry for harassing my girlfriend,” Wonwoo says coldly.

“What?!” The man wiggles on the ground, but to no avail. Wonwoo’s thigh muscle bulges in his blue jeans and you think your mouth is watering again.

“Say you’re sorry.” Wonwoo twists the man’s arm behind his back and the man lets out a grunt of pain.

“I’m sorry,” he groans.

“For?” Wonwoo presses.

The man meets your gaze. “For harassing you, I’m sorry!”

Wonwoo lets up, standing and joining you again. “Lets go,” he says, grabbing one of the drinks from you before lacing your fingers. You allow him to guide you away from the man laying on the ground with a look of shock on his face.

You’re still quite stunned yourself, and you let Wonwoo pull you back through the cars toward his own. He opens your door for you and you get inside, taking a deep breath while you watch him go around the front to enter his own seat.

“Wonwoo?”

“Yeah?”

“Where the fuck did a guy who works in a bowling alley learn to pull a move like that on someone so much bigger than him?”

“Well-”

“Let me guess,” you hold up your hand, “If you told me you’d have to kill me.”

“Something like that,” he laughs.

You simply blink at him. “Who are you? Like really? Are you James Bond?”

“Definitely not,” Wonwoo grins. “Speaking of… should we continue watching the movie?”

All you can do is nod, but your mind is reeling, and you can’t focus the rest of the film. There’s so much about Wonwoo you still don’t know, and it’s making you insane.

When the movie finishes, Wonwoo pulls out of the drive in theater. “I can tell you’re still shaken up about what happened,” he muses, “and I want to make it up to you.”

“Really? How are you thinking of doing that?”

“I was wondering if you’d let me cook you dinner sometime soon.”

“At your house?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” you nod… maybe his house will provide a few clues to help you figure him out.

“Does tomorrow work for you?”

“Works great.”

Wonwoo looks over at you, and he reaches out a hand, lacing your fingers and giving you a gentle squeeze. It’s meant as reassurance, but he doesn’t say anything else as he drives you home.

“Can I walk you to your door?” Wonwoo asks softly when you arrive.

“Of course,” you nod, exiting the car and waiting for Wonwoo to come join you so you can head up the walkway together.

“I had a really good time tonight,” he muses, “and not just because you sucked me off.”

The statement makes you laugh, shaking your head at him. “No? Bet you also enjoyed throwing that guy on the ground.”

“I enjoyed watching a movie with you,” Wonwoo insists.

“Sure you did,” you grin, turning to face him on your doorstep.

You know it’s probably just a matter of time before one of your roommates ruins the moment, and you think Wonwoo knows it too, because there’s no hesitation in his actions tonight. He grabs your hips, tugging you close so he can lean down and press his mouth to your own.

He’s confident, lips parting so his tongue can glide against your own. One of his hands releases your hips to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek while he kisses you.

Your stomach is in knots just from this, and you’re acutely aware that you haven’t actually fucked him yet, aware that tomorrow, you’ll be in his home, alone.

Your front door opens and Wonwoo breaks away from you. “Hi Mary,” he addresses your roommate.

“Hi love birds,” Mary grins.

You shake your head at the way she’s ruined the moment. Your panties are sticking uncomfortably to your core and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.

“I’ll uh… see you tomorrow?” you say softly, looking into Wonwoo’s pretty, dark eyes.

He nods. “I’ll come pick you up at seven.”

Wonwoo is a shockingly good cook. He’d made a baked chicken and pasta dish that he’d simply taken out of the oven after picking you up, plating the food while you looked around his little home.

Your first bite of food had made you almost groan, looking at him while he laughed. “Bet you thought I couldn’t cook,” he’d mused.

You’d admitted your expectations had been low, and the two of you had eaten dinner together, chatting about everything from his house being rented furnished, to a few towns he’d been in before coming here.

Wonwoo had given nomadic vibes, but as you listen to him speak, you realize how deep that constant need for movement runs. It strikes something like fear inside of you… when is he going to decide to leave this town? To leave you? Is there even a future for you both?

Wonwoo doesn’t seem to notice your distress, as you’re good at hiding it, and after you’re done eating, he suggests moving to the couch to watch a sitcom.

He sits down first, and after a moment of deliberation, you tuck close to his side. His arm wraps around you immediately and you lean against his shoulder, letting out a deep sigh while he turns on the tv. “Do you want to watch anything in specific?” he asks.

You shake your head. “I’m okay with whatever.”

A generic sitcom begins to play and you relax even more, enjoying the feeling of his arm around you. You could get used to nights like this… if Wonwoo wasn’t such a nomadic, unpredictable man.

Wonwoo’s hand begins to stroke up and down your arm, and you find it hard to even concentrate on the show while he’s doing this. You simply enjoy existing with him, and you haven’t experienced this type of peace with a man possibly ever.

An hour passes in this easy way, and Wonwoo begins to yawn, stretching his arms over his head. You wonder how he manages to remain so pretty even while yawning- sometimes you hate how attractive this man is. If he wasn’t so god damned sexy, maybe he wouldn’t have you wrapped around his finger the way he does.

“I’m getting tired,” he notes. “Maybe… maybe I should drive you home.”

“You could do that… or, you could let me cuddle you, and you could have a nap,” you suggest.

Wonwoo considers it, and he bites at his lip, looking deep in thought. “I’ve never uh… never napped with someone before.”

“Really?” Your brows raise in shock. “Well… don’t you want to give it a try?”

“Sometimes I have bad dreams,” he tells you quietly.

“Wouldn’t it be nicer for you to wake up with someone there to comfort you?” you ask.

Wonwoo blinks. “Would you really do that?”

“Of course!” you assure him, reaching out to gently squeeze his thigh. “Come on, if you get nightmares, I’ll even let you be the little spoon.”

“You’ll let me be the little spoon,” he repeats, not looking convinced.

“Trust me, it will help,” you assure him.

He still looks like he doesn’t quite believe you, but he allows you to maneuver him down onto the couch, with you removing the back pillows so the two of you can lay comfortably. You curl around his back, tucking a hand around him, placing your palm over his heart. A moment later, he threads his fingers through your own, locking you into a position that feels secure and warm and very loving.

He’s tense, but when you let out a deep breath, he mirrors you, and you feel him relaxing in your embrace.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” he tells you.

“You don’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust myself.”

“Well, I can trust you for the both of us,” you say softly, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his neck. “Have a nap. I’ll be here for you, no matter what happens.”

Wonwoo sighs, but he cuddles a little closer to you, and you can’t help but smile at the motion. You listen to him breathe while the sitcom chatters away in the background, and you’re pretty sure it only takes a minute or two for him to fall asleep.

The poor man, he must have been really tired for him to knock out so fast.

You enjoy holding him, and you get comfortable wrapped around his back. His broad shoulders obscure part of the tv screen from your view but you don’t mind, it’s not like you’re really watching anyways.

Focusing on your breaths, you allow yourself to fall in a state of deep relaxation. You’re not particularly sleepy, it just feels nice to be close to Wonwoo like this… even when he begins to twitch. You can tell he’s dreaming now, and you note the way the muscles in his arms feather- you wonder what dream Wonwoo is up to.

He settles down a little, and you’re glad that maybe he’s not going to wake up, maybe having someone cuddling him does help.

Your hope that your presence makes a difference is dashed not five minutes later when Wonwoo begins twitching again, but this time, there’s more force in it.

“No-” he mumbles in his sleep. “No-” he says again, but now he’s louder.

At this point, you’re not sure this counts as a nightmare, it’s pretty clear to you that Wonwoo’s having a night terror, and when he begins to shake, you can’t help but wrap your arms around him, clinging to his back. “Shh,” you whisper softly, reaching up a hand to stroke his hair. “It’s okay, it’s just a dream-”

Wonwoo jolts in your embrace, and then he’s sitting up abruptly, eyes snapping open, lips parting in gasps-

“It was just a dream,” you tell him again, louder now that he’s awake. You sit up and attach to his back again, running your hands up and down his arms. “You’re safe. You’re safe with me now.”

He’s still breathing heavily, shoulders moving with each sharp inhale of breath.

You hold him through it, knowing now is not the best time to ask any questions. You just want to support him, so that’s what you do.

After a while, Wonwoo starts to take more even breaths, and he rests a hand over yours, leaning back against you. He’s quiet, and he lets you simply hold him. You’re sure now that you’re providing comfort, and when you lean in to press a soft kiss to his neck, he lets out a deep sigh.

“I need to tell you something.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” you assure him.

“I do,” he insists. “Especially after what happened at the drive in.”

He must be referring to his ability to take down a man and pin him to the sidewalk, and to be fair, you have been wondering about that. You give Wonwoo the space to elaborate.

“I’m not even sure how to explain this,” Wonwoo sighs after a moment.

“Take your time.”

“This is going to sound crazy,” he says softly, and you can tell he’s working up the courage to get out what’s on his mind. “There’s no other way to describe it, so I might as well just say it. You’ve probably been wondering about the job I had before I started at the bowling alley.”

He pauses to allow you to confirm, and you give a small nod, leaning against his shoulder. He’s not looking at you, and you assess his side profile. It’s clear that this is going to be a turning point in your relationship with him, and you give him your complete attention for it.

“The government…” Wonwoo licks his lips, “well, they’d call me a rogue military asset.”

You take in his words, not quite sure how to react-

“I can’t go into details with you, I won’t, but… I can tell you that I never agreed with what the government wanted to use me for.”

The night terrors make sense now.

“They put a lot of time training me to be who I am, so… let's just say they wouldn’t let me leave without a fight. Technically, I’m court marshalled, but it’s worse than that- I’m on the run, moving from town to town- I can’t stay anywhere too long- it’s never been a problem for me, but then-” he swallows thickly. “Then I met you. It’s funny,” Wonwoo lets out a sad chuckle, “I’m trained to assess probability, but nowhere in my future sight did I anticipate meeting a girl I actually liked, someone I could confide in, someone who I could rest next to, who wouldn’t judge me for my dreams.”

“Wonwoo-” you whisper his name, and he turns in your arms, facing you.

“I don’t want to ruin your life,” he states. “Being with a guy like me, it doesn’t give you a future.”

“You wouldn’t be ruining it,” you insist, “and your wrong. It would give me a future, a future with you.”

“It’s not enough.”

“Let me be the judge of that, please.” You cup his face, and Wonwoo leans into your touch, his eyes meeting yours. You can’t help but lean forward, pressing your lips to his own. It’s a soft kiss at first, and you hope he can feel the emotion you’re pouring into it.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, adjusting so you can climb into his lap, straddling him on the couch while his tongue slides over your own.

His hands find your hips, and he applies a bit of pressure, helping you grind down on him. You can feel his cock in the denim of his jeans, and you’re a little surprised that he’s turned on so soon after a night terror, but at the same time, you’re not complaining.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper, breaking the kiss while his lips move to your throat. “I think… I think I should stay over tonight, in case you have any more night terrors.”

You feel him smile against your skin. “Is that the only reason?” he asks.

You grind your clothed core along his cock, shaking your head. “No.”

“Let me take you to bed,” Wonwoo says, grabbing at your ass and lifting you up easily. “I’m not about to have you on the couch.”

“You’re about to have me?” you grin.

“Unless you don’t want it.”

“I want it,” you confirm, lips moving to his neck while he carries you through his small house. “I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

“Me too,” he says softly, fingers digging into your ass.

When you get to his bedroom, he lays you onto his bed softly before standing over you, looking down at your form. “You’re so pretty,” Wonwoo whispers, reaching down to trail a finger over your denim covered knee.

“Prettier with my pants off,” you smirk.

“Yeah?” He lets out a small laugh.

“You should see for yourself.” You reach down to undo your jeans and as you pull down the zipper, Wonwoo grabs at the leg, tugging. Soon, your legs are bare, and you feel the cool air of the room against your hot, panty covered core. “Now's the time I tell you I’m also cuter with no underwear.”

“I remember,” Wonwoo nods.

His words make a hot lick of pleasure tease up your pussy, and you grab at the bottom of your shirt, tugging that off next so all you’re left in is a bra and panties.

Wonwoo begins to get onto his knees but you shake your head. “We’ve had enough foreplay. Enough teasing. I want you inside of me.”

“Are you sure?” Wonwoo kisses your inner thigh, and the feeling makes you close your eyes, leaning your head back to let out a sigh.

“I’m sure,” you confirm. No matter how good his tongue might feel, you’re aching to get to his cock.

“Why won’t you let me take care of you?” he asks, breath hot as it fans up your legs.

“Because I’m impatient,” you can’t help but laugh, writhing in his sheets. “Because I need to know what you feel like.”

Wonwoo lets out something of a hum, and he presses a kiss to your thigh before moving up your body. His lips drag over your stomach and up to the swell of your breasts while he climbs on top of you, hands pressing against the mattress on either side of your head. His nose nuzzles by your throat as he kisses there too, and when you tug on his soft hair, he finally makes it to your mouth.

You groan against his lips immediately, wrapping your legs around his hips while tugging at his shirt. He allows you to tear it off of him, breaking the kiss for only a moment before you’re dragging him back to you.

His tongue glides across your lip and you open your mouth for him, allowing him to trace your teeth. You like the feeling of him, like what he does with his tongue.

His hand slips under your back and you arch yourself for him, making it easier to take off your bra. He pushes at your straps next, and you lose your patience, pulling the fabric from your chest and exposing your boobs to the man who makes you hornier than you’ve ever been in your entire life.

Wonwoo dips his head down, pressing kisses over your breasts until he reaches your nipple. His free hand begins to gently massage your other boob while his tongue begins to trace your pebbled bud. It feels like magic, and you thread your fingers in his hair, releasing a groan.

He sucks gently on your nipple, taking his time.

You’d said no foreplay, but you’re okay with this. You can feel yourself beginning to soak through your panties, and when Wonwoo switches from one breast to the other, you practically throb at how well he’s taking care of you.

Sounds of pleasure are slipping past your lips now, and you get lost in the feeling of his mouth on your chest, his hands groping what his tongue isn’t playing with.

You wonder how long it’s been since he had his face in a nice set of boobs, and you allow him to enjoy it. He’s clearly having the time of his life, and you can feel him beginning to grind down against the mattress between your legs.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper tugging at his hair.

He murmurs against your breasts, but doesn’t let up.

“Need you inside, please,” you beg. “You can keep sucking on my boobs, but, I need you inside of me right now.”

“Let me grab a condom,” Wonwoo says, pulling off your chest to reach into his bedside table where he takes out a square foil.

He sits back onto his knees between your legs, tearing open the package while you work on his jeans, getting his belt undone and his zipper down.

You can tell by his movements that he’s starting to get impatient too, and when he looks down at your panty covered core and smirks, you have a feeling you know whats coming next.

“How much do you like these?” he asks, hooking a finger in the fabric.

“Just ruin them,” you laugh, not wanting to wait another moment.

“You got it, angel,” Wonwoo grabs your panties with both hands. He tears one side, freeing a thigh, before repeating the motion on the other side, then he tugs the ruined clothing item off your body and tosses it onto the floor.

“Don’t even bother with your pants,” you say, pushing them down his thighs, “just fuck me with them at your knees.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said you needed me.”

“I’d never kid about that,” you giggle, watching him roll the condom onto his thick cock. The moment he’s done, you’re grabbing at his shoulders, pulling him down on top of you so you can crash your lips to his own.

He ruts his hips, cock grazing through your pussy folds, teasing your clit.

“Please,” you groan, feeling absolutely insatiable. He’s so close, he just needs to put it in-

Wonwoo reaches a hand between your bodies, adjusting his cock to your wet hole. “Are you sure?” he asks.

Instead of answering, you wrap your legs around his hips, applying pressure to force him inside of you. He lets out a groan as his length sinks into your wet heat, his mouth moving hot against yours again while you get his body flush to your own.

You both moan loudly when he’s inside of you fully, your greedy pussy taking him all after the build ups you’ve had in numerous dates.

“Do you like is fast or slow?” Wonwoo asks, lips moving to your throat.

“Slow, then fast,” you respond, tracing his broad shoulders while you relax into the feeling of him.

“You got it, angel,” Wonwoo says, starting to move his hips. He rocks slowly, the tip of his cock dragging by your sweet spot as he begins to make love to you.

It feels like heaven, and you get lost in him, moans slipping out of you with each thrust.

True to his word, Wonwoo’s pace gradually quickens, his fingers digging into your hips to pin you to the bed. He’s so big and sexy and- everything you’ve ever wanted in a man.

You hold him like you never want to let him go, and the way he kisses you makes you think he feels the same.

There’s no dirty talk, and you don’t mind it. You’re just two souls quietly enjoying each other. The only sounds are primal noises of pleasure and the soft slapping of skin on skin.

As his pace builds, so does the feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. Wonwoo’s moans don’t help your situation, and each groan has your pussy practically throbbing with need.

His shoulders are your anchor, your broad, lovely, wonderful, sexy anchor, and you hold onto them tightly, eyes shut while you enjoy him.

When Wonwoo’s thrusts become almost piston like in nature, you cry out, and Wonwoo breaks your kiss to bury his face against your throat. “You close?”

“Yes, fuck, Wonwoo-” you whimper, so close to your high you can almost taste it.

“Want me to cum with you, angel?”

“Yes, God, please-” you nod quickly, digging your nails into his shoulders.

Wonwoo groans deeply. “I’m almost there-”

“I can’t hold it,” you’re nearly crying now, overwhelmed by how good this feels.

“Then cum,” Wonwoo states, voice husky as he reaches a hand between your bodies, fingers rubbing your clit. “Cum with me, angel.”

This is the last straw, and your pussy clenches tightly around his cock, orgasm slamming into you while you hold onto Wonwoo as your life line. You gasp loudly in his ear, waves of pleasure washing over you. In fact, you see stars, vision clouding behind your lids as you’re overtaken by Wonwoo and everything he does for you.

He’s still groaning in your ear, and his thrusts are harder now. You can tell he’s cumming too, and the thought only makes your orgasm last longer, pussy milking him for all he’s worth.

You’re not sure when exactly he begins to slow down, but soon he’s coming to a stop on top of you, gasping loudly. His heart is thundering in his chest, and you can feel it through your breast where you’re pressed together.

You reach up to stroke a hand through his hair, also working on your ragged breathing.

He holds you for a while, but finally he’s forced to pull away. “Let me get rid of the condom, then we can sleep,” he says softly, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before heading to the bathroom just down the hall.

You stare at his ceiling, still overwhelmed with everything that’s happened.

Wonwoo might not know what his future holds, but you’re certain that as long as you find a way to be part of it, you might be happy forever.

Waking up next to Wonwoo had been wonderful. There hadn’t been any more night terrors, and Wonwoo even mentions it as you make breakfast together. “I haven’t slept that well in years,” he muses, holding you close and kissing your neck.

“Then you might have to keep me as a safety blanket,” you tease, although… you do mean it.

The comment is enough to make him groan and he turns off the stove, neglecting breakfast in favour of throwing you on the table and eating you as his first course.

He buries his tongue inside your core, making you cum three times before the day has even really started. Then he sits you down and plates your meal, sitting across from you and watching you with dark eyes exaggerated by circular spectacles that set off the handsome features of his face.

“When can I see you again?” he asks when you clean up from breakfast.

“Working tonight,” you sigh.

“I could pop by, if you wanted me to.”

“As long as you don’t drink coffee at my eight pm shift,” you giggle, remembering what your chef had said about Wonwoo’s obscure proclivities.

“I promise,” Wonwoo smiles. “I’ll get a burger again.”

“Then you can come see me at work,” you grin, stepping closer to Wonwoo while he wraps his arms around your form, tugging you to his chest.

You’re getting way too used to him, but you can’t stop yourself, all you can do is watch while you fall deeper and deeper into the world of Wonwoo.

You’re downright giddy when Wonwoo shows up in the middle of your shift. He’s always cute, but today, with his circular glasses, he takes your breath away.

He waves as he enters the diner, and you call for him to take any table. He takes the same booth as last time and you’re quick to get him some water, scurrying over with a smile.

“Hi,” you greet him.

“Hi,” he repeats. “How’s your shift going?”

“Better now that you’re here,” you say honestly. “You still want that burger?”

“Can you give me a couple minutes?” he asks. “I think I want to watch you run around for a bit. The sooner I order, the sooner I have to get out of here.”

“Are you going to stare at my ass, Wonwoo?”

“If you’ll let me.”

“Stare away.” You wink, turning on your heel and heading to check in on a different table.

It’s interesting to have his eyes on you like this, to know he’s happy just watching you while you work. He’s such a softie, and you adore him.

You’re grabbing food from the kitchen for a couple when the diner bell rings, and you look up to see four cops coming in. It’s not that often that police come to the diner for an aftershift meal, but tonight seems to be one of those nights.

They’re regulars, all things considered, and with a short wave to you, they take their favourite table, two down from Wonwoo.

Your gaze shifts to the man who’s just told you he’s on the run from the government. He’s playing with his cup of water, but that’s the only indication that he’s nervous. His body language is otherwise relaxed, and you think maybe he’s simply a good actor.

You grab four menus for the cops, and a tray of water, casually walking over them to pick up a conversation about how their night is going.

As you serve them, you notice one of the cops peering over at Wonwoo, and you can feel anxiety building in your stomach. “Can I grab you anything?” you ask, trying to take the man’s attention off of Wonwoo. “Tea, beer-”

“A beer would be nice,” he nods.

You give him a list of what you have in bottles, and he chooses, but as soon as you’re done with him, his eyes move to Wonwoo again.

You head to the main counter, where you put through the drink orders.

The bell to the diner rings, and when you turn to greet the new guests, you don’t see anyone standing at the door. You do, however, find Wonwoo’s booth empty, and your heart drops in your chest.

You’re walking home from your shift when a car pulls up next to you. For a moment, you feel your heart begin to race, but then Wonwoo’s rolling down his window and calling out to you, “Hey, angel.”

“Oh my gosh, Wonwoo-” you stop in your tracks to look at him.

“Can I give you a ride home?”

“Of course,” you respond immediately, heading around his car to get in.

“I’m sorry I left so abruptly,” he apologizes when you enter, closing the door behind yourself.

“I understand why you did it,” you sigh. “You were probably worried one of those cops would recougnize you.”

“Exactly,” he nods. “This is why…” he swallows thickly. “This is why I never stay in one place for too long.”

His words hurt.

They really hurt.

“Look…” you choose what you say next very carefully, “if you do decide to leave town, please don’t do it without coming to talk to me first.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Wonwoo says softly.

The rest of the short ride is quiet, and when he stops in front of your house, he leans over and cups your face, pressing his lips to your own.

When he pulls away, you stay staring at him. “Call me anytime, okay?”

He nods. “You got it, angel.”

It’s been two days since you last heard from Wonwoo, and you’re hanging out at home before a shift when the phone rings. Something inside of you makes you jump from the couch, running to answer the call before either of your roommates can.

“Hello?”

“Hi, angel.”

“Wonwoo-” you let out a deep breath. “How are you?”

The line is quiet for a moment, and you hear him sigh. “I’ve been better.”

“Did something happen?”

“Not yet, but… I expect it might soon.”

You try to figure out what he’s saying. “Does that mean…”

“I’m leaving,” he says, as assertive as you’ve ever heard him. “I have to go.”

Your skin heats and you feel hot pricks in your eyes. You hold back tears, taking a deep breath and squeezing the phone in your hand. “Let me come with you.”

“I told you, this isn’t a life for you-”

“And I told you I don’t care!” You can’t contain yourself anymore, and you feel bad the moment the loud words are out of your mouth. Jessica looks at you from the other room and you turn your back to her, lowering your voice. “It’s not a life for you either, Wonwoo. You can’t live alone forever. You can’t.”

“Some days I think I was built to be alone.”

You can’t help the tears now, and you choke a little on the sob that works its way up your throat. “Wonwoo, please-”

“I don’t want to do this to you, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re hurting me now!” you insist. “Wonwoo you can’t leave, not right when-” you cut yourself off, closing your eyes and leaning your shoulder against the wall. “Not right when I’m falling in love with you.”

The line is dead silent, and each second is like an hour. You’re shaking now, anxiety flooding your system. “Wonwoo? Are you still there?”

“I have to leave soon,” he says finally. “We wouldn’t have room for furniture, or-”

“I don’t care about furniture,” you insist. “All I need is a bag and you.”

“This is crazy,” Wonwoo sighs.

“People do crazier things for love…” you bite at your lip. “You do love me too, right, Wonwoo? That’s why you’re open to this?”

This time, there’s no moment of contemplation, he simply answers, “Of course I love you, angel. How could I not?”

This time, when you let out a small cry, it’s not sadness. It’s a release of pent up emotion, emotion you’ve been holding in for who knows how long. You’re not sure how Wonwoo came into your life and flipped it upside down, but you are sure about him. More sure than you’ve been about anything in your life.

“Your roommates aren’t going to be mad about you abruptly leaving?” Wonwoo asks.

You turn to look at Jessica. “My roommates will get over it,” you state. “When are you picking me up?”

“Can you be ready in an hour?”

“I’ll be waiting outside with my bag.”

“See you then… and angel?”

“Yes, Wonwoo?”

“I do love you.”

“I love you too.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I had so much fun with this collab, find the masterlist for it here

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🔮 preview. “We could always practice making babies,” you suggest. Wonwoo lets out a loud laugh, the kind of laugh that lights up his face in the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen. “Practice, huh?” He releases a deep breath, hands moving to your hips to pull you closer to his bare chest. “I hid your condoms,” you say. It sounds like you’re teasing him, but you are, in fact, being completely serious. “Come on…” you plead, leaning forward to ghost your lips over his throat, “have some fun with me.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected/raw sex, sex, fairly vanilla sex, Wonwoo is a park ranger so he’s built, hand grabbing, heavy panting/breathing, Wonwoo is pleasure vocal, talk about making babies, oral (f receiving), Wonwoo loves eating pussy, fingering, multiple orgasms, etc… I pet names: (hers) angel.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 staring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

The first few months being nomadic with Wonwoo had been bitter sweet. Every time you were getting used to a town, something would happen that would cause you to run. Eventually, however, you found a fit.

Wonwoo had stumbled upon a job opening as a park ranger, and it came with a log cabin a half an hour drive from the closest town, the small house nestled discreetly between the trees Wonwoo would be hired to take care of.

It had helped that one drive through the area had proven to Wonwoo that the cops were lazy, more interested in their donut runs than doing their jobs.

You’ve been living with your park ranger boyfriend for over a year now, and the cabin feels like home.

Wonwoo wakes up with the sun, and sets off to do a run through of the trails. You take your time waking and cook breakfast, or you head in to town in your second hand beat up truck for supplies. There’s a library that hired you and the scheduling is relaxed-

You have everything you could ever want… well, almost everything.

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flamingpudding · 8 months

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UNO reverse B-

"And with this, the tree of you would be now legally in my care. Alfred will have your rooms ready by the time we arrive at the Manor." Bruce smiled at the three children sitting across from him at the table.

The oldest of the three, Jasmine a red-haired girl, probably about Tim's age, picked up the papers and was reading through them, eyeing him every now and then.

The youngest Danielle, a girl younger than Damian that looked like the splitting image of her brother, the middle child and only boy among the three, eyed him distrustful and was muttering something about fruitloops. Maybe he could go buy some for her on their way to the Manor.

The middle child Daniel, a boy a little bit older than Damian and appeared to have a similar temper considering the glare the boy was sending him ever since it had been mentioned to the three that he would take them in for the time being. He wondered if he should warn his own children just in case this boy had a similar tendency. The kid definitely knew his way around weapons, considering how they met.

But suddenly Daniel smirked and slammed his hand on the table, the same time the youngest girl started to giggle, and the oldest placed the papers back on the table, pushing them back towards him, shaking her head with a fond smile.

"I don't think so, man." The boy started slowly lifting his hand from the table, revealing a green UNO Reverse Card. "I think. I will be the one taking your family in. Ghost adoption, you know? Considering you have a halfa in the making, who will need guidance and protection and pretty much all of you Waynes are liminal."

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dpxdc #dp x dc #crossover #danielle phantom #jasmine fenton #bruce wayne #uno reverse card #bruce was going to foster them #danny uno reversed the situation #he will ghost adopt the Waynes #jason is a halfa #in the making...#dcxdp #prompt idea

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supernaturalistthings · 16 days

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Acts of Service

Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester has been loving you for years in his own way and with a little help you finally realize it.

Warnings: soft core smut +18

You watch from across the bar as Dean sips his whisky from a short glass. You're on your third tequila pineapple and he looks as amazing as ever. His jaw is sharp and he has some slight stubble from not shaving for a few days. You, Sam, and Dean had just finished a tulpa case in Pennsylvania and had decided to celebrate with a few drinks at a local dive. You had worked with the boys for a few years now and it had become a tradition to celebrate after a win.

Meanwhile on your side of the bar you were starting to feel the bass of the music vibrating through you in a different way, the drinks were going down too easily, and the urge to dance was coursing through your being. You had sipped your thoughts away to your heart's content.

You had one too many to drink and you were starting to feel it. If you didn't watch yourself you were going to wake up in somebody's front lawn very shortly.

The feeling of warmth on your waist breaks you from your thoughts and you look up to see an unknown, attractive, dark haired, blue eyed man, with one of his hands on your waist.

“Sorry i didn't mean to startle you…” he says and then continues “Can i buy you a drink?” raising his to make sure you can understand what he's saying over the loudly playing music. It's not that he wasn't attractive, hell he was very attractive. But he wasn't Dean Winchester. He didn't have stubble, or piercing green eyes, or a gruff sultry voice that could make a girl melt. So you raise your full glass as an answer and in hopes to send him on his way but he doesn't budge. He leans in once again to make sure you can hear him and says

“Well, how about a dance?” He pulls back to see your answer but you look across the bar. Dean's eyes are locked on you and the dark haired man before you. If you didn't know better there was a twinge of jealousy behind his eyes. His jaw is locked and his hold on his glass is strong. You think back to all the times you had to watch him shamelessly flirt with local girls and even go home with them and something in you screams that this is your turn. Your eyes snap back to the man in front of you and you say

“Yes”

You down your drink and leave the glass behind. He puts his hand on your lower back and leads you to the part of the bar where everyone's dancing. You wrap your arms around his neck and start swaying your hips to the beat of the music. He's a pretty good dancer, but that drink you just downed starts to catch up with you and all of a sudden you feel hot, really hot. Your vision is slightly blurred and you can't tell if you're about to throw up or pass out.

You lean up to his ear and say that you'll be right back and start stumbling your way towards some fresh air. The walk to the exit feels like it takes a literal year but you finally get there and fling the door open. Little did you know there was a pair of eyes on you watching you your whole way out.

The familiar sensation of warmth on your waist once again breaks you from your thoughts as you've steadied yourself against the wall of the building. You look up expecting to see the newly met set of blue eyes but instead you're met with bright green ones. It's Dean. The confusion must've been written on your face so he clears it up for you.

“We’re going home” He wraps one hand around your waist and throws your arm over his shoulder so he can walk you side by side to his car. He opens your door and sets you in the passenger seat and buckles you in. He walks over to his side, gets in, and the next thing you hear is the engine roar to life. It hits you that you're leaving the bar without saying goodbye to the handsome stranger, or paying your tab, that you werent ready to leave.

“Wait, let's go back… i'll get the next round if we go back right now” You slur out. This makes Dean laugh deeply and he looks over briefly to take in your disheveled state. You never get like this so it's always hilarious to him when you do, and unbeknownst to you it amazes him how you can still look so beautiful.

“I don't think even the most careless bartender would give you another drink right now. You're cut off” He replies still laughing.

This makes you pout and you turn away from him and look out the window dramatically.

“Oh cmon sweetheart… you'll thank me in the morning trust me…” he breaks the silence

“The one time I find someone to take home…” you mumble out with an emphasis on “I”. He snaps his head over and looks you up and down. His grip on the steering wheel is turning his knuckles white. He lets out an unnoticed frustrated sigh and says

“You didn't really want him… did you?”

This causes you to slowly look over at him and he's already looking at you while momentarily darting his eyes back to the road. He wants an answer. But you don't give it to him, ashamed of how and what you really feel. You just bury your head back into the side of the door without saying anything until the motel comes into view. You're exhausted all of a sudden. You hear his door open and he opens yours which causes you to almost fall out of the car. He catches you and laughs and sits you back up straight. He unbuckles you and says

“Okay enough of this” and with that he scoops you up princess style and carries you to your motel room door. You're secretly thankful, as you are embarrassed that you're this drunk, you would've never made the walk. It feels like you're getting more inebriated by the minute. He puts the arm that was carrying your legs down gently and holds you there.

“I'm going to search your pockets for the key okay…” he warns you before gently diving his hands into your pockets until he grasps the key. He opens the door, swings it open, and then picks you up once again to carry you to the bed. He lays you down gently on top on the sheets and the next thing you know your eyes are closed and you have the deepest sleep of your life.

You wake up and the first thing you see is a glass of water on the side table. You reach for it and drink it like you haven't had anything to drink in days. You're pretty sure it was the best thing you've felt in a while, and this only reassures the notion that you are extremely hungover. You don't remember anything from last night other than dancing with some mystery man for a little bit while a pair of familiar green eyes watched you from across the bar. That's it. You lift the sheets that were comfily tucked around you off and see clothes laid out and tylenol behind the glass of water. You must've set yourself up for the morning once you got in. You're a genius is what you're thinking. You couldn't have been that embarrassingly drunk, that crosses your mind and soothes your conscience. You're thankful for the sliver of soberness in you last night and throw on the fresh clothes, brush your teeth and go to head over to Sam and Dean's room. You knock and Sam opens the door. The smell of greasy breakfast food hits you and warms your soul. It's exactly what you need right now.

“Tell me you got something for me” you ask while looking hopefully at Sam.

Sam laughs and says “Yeah Dean went earlier, he got your usual”

You look over at Dean who keeps his eyes on his food and say thank you. You take a seat at the small motel room table and start diving in. You look up and Dean is looking at you and smiling softly.

“What?” you say cluelessly

“Nothing” he replies, dropping his smile and focusing back on his food and you do the same.

“So how was last night? Was it epic” Sam says with a curious smile, eyeing the both of you.

“Not really, I was sober enough to set my clothes out and get under the covers so I'd say it was kind of a bust” You say laughing as you take another bite of your breakfast. Everything gets quiet for a second and you wonder what you said to cause such an awkward vibe.

“I'm going to shower” says Dean and he gets up without even looking at either of you, walks to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. You hear the shower start and that's when Sam leans in and looks at you seriously. You pause mid bite and look at him confused.

“What?” you say setting your plastic fork down

“You know Dean got you home last night right?” he says directly

“I figured…” you reply, “so?” you continue.

“So… Dean set your clothes out…” it's starting to hit you, he continues “He drove to get you tylenol because we only had the strong stuff…” It hits you, “He set out a glass of water… he tucked you in, he woke up early and got your favorite breakfast. Hell he even paid your tab” Sam says looking towards the bathroom.

It felt like the world stopped spinning, in that moment cars stopped driving, birds stopped chirping. Everything was still. The realization was flowing through every molecule of your being and you were absolutely frozen, other than your jaw dropping you couldn't move. Dean Winchester cares about you. He cares about you as more than a friend, he sees more. It keeps repeating in your head until hopefully it sinks in. He sees more.

How could you have not seen this before? Maybe it's because he knew the real you, he knew more about you than anyone else, and how could anyone love or care about you once they do? That question can no longer plague you because He sees more.

All you can say is, “Thank you Sam”

He replies with a nod and takes his breakfast and says that he'll be in your room. The door shuts behind him and you're left alone awaiting Dean to step out of that bathroom. You’re carefully forming your thoughts making sure what you say is exactly what you feel. It's going to be perfect. You hear the bathroom door creak open and you quickly stand and turn to face a half naked dean who's only wearing jeans and drying his hair with a towel. He pauses when he sees you're the only person in the room. You feel like you might explode.

“Where’s Sa-”

“I care about you… alot” you interject. The silence is deafening. So much for your deep thoughtful speech. You can't take the silence and break it by continuing “and I know you care about me too…”

He's absolutely frozen, cornered. It was now or never.

“How did you-”

“I can just tell” you cut him off. You smile proudly, only now realizing you have the ability to make the Dean Winchester speechless. You're scared you might’ve overstepped, might've been too enthusiastic when he starts laughing and smiling. Maybe Sam was wrong? But that all changes when he says “i don't just care about you… im in love with you…”

It was your turn to be frozen. “You don't have to be yet… but I want you to know that I've been in love with you for a while now. I love your laugh, your smile, hell I even love what you get for breakfast.” Your eyes are wide in disbelief, he walks forward until he's close enough to where he can reach out and brush some hair out of your face and then continues. “I'm painfully in love with you. With everything about you” He’s desperately scanning your face for any sign of reciprocation, any sign of hope. He gets his sign when your mouth curves into a bright smile beaming at him, and before he can even realize it he has one of his own shining back at you.

You don't know who leaned in first, but the next thing either of you know is that your lips are moving against each others. You're running your fingers through his still damp and already messy hair. His hands are at your waist and holding you there like fine art. You were to him, something timeless, thought provoking, head turning, beautiful. This kiss was the start of Dean Winchester's future and he knew it. It tasted sweet and he savored every movement of your lips with his own, grateful for anything you give him.

His hands were electrifying you with every soft touch. You were melting in his arms and you can't get enough of him. You were pressed flush against his bare chest and you can't help but run your hands over his broad shoulders while continuing to kiss him deeply. You can't help but still be in a bit of disbelief. You could kiss him for hours, and by the way he's kissing you, he could too.

He pulls back and says “I don't want to rush things…”

“I was thinking the same thing…” You say, but yet again you have no idea who leans in first but your lips collide once again. His hands are on the sides of your face and yours are resting on his stomach. The room is filled with the sounds of your kiss and occasional involuntary moans, this feels better than either of you had imagined and you can't help it.

“When did he say he'd be back?” Dean mumbles into the kiss referring to Sam.

“He didn't” You mumble back barely breaking the kiss to do so.

You both simultaneously pull back and look at eachother wide eyed and it's like a lightbulb goes off over both your heads, but you can still see the worry plaguing his eyes so you say. “It'll be perfect no matter what because it's us… You and me.” You lace your fingers with his and at that he smiles and pulls you to him and towards his bed. He picks you up and lays you on the bed with him on top of you and it makes you both laugh into the kiss. When suddenly a pang of worry hits you. The last thing you want is for Sam to walk in on what's about to happen. As if on cue you hear the door shut and both of your heads snap to a frozen and panicked Sam. Dean begrudgingly and with a groan stands up and off of you and you immediately sits up. You're utterly embarrassed but Dean is just annoyed.

“Really?” Says Dean

“I wasn't expecting that, I mean I was hoping things went well but… wow” says Sam while setting the remnants of his food on the table. Dean finds a shirt in his bag and throws it on along with his shoes and grabs your hand and starts leading you towards the door. “We’ll hit the road in 2 hours until then … stay here” Dean says to Sam and he rolls his eyes. Dean shuts the door behind you both and starts walking you towards your room with a grin like he's won the lotto, and in his head he has. You laugh and he says

“What? Checkout isn’t for another two hours, might as well make the most of it…” He leans over and places a quick kiss to your temple. Your eyes flutter closed for a second. You've never felt this type of contentment before. You realize you never said i love you back earlier and you immediately look to the side of his face and say

“I love you too by the way” He immediately looks over and smiles wider than you've ever seen him smile before. In the moment he feels the contentment the same as you. His life just got a hell of a lot better and he knew it.

#dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural headcanon #supernatural imagine #dean winchester headcannons #dean winchester moodboard #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean winchester one shot #dean #dean winchester smut

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too-deviant · 1 month

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jackie and wilson.

previous | next masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

summary: you haven't been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile

word count: 5.3k

content: fluffff, loser!reader, happy!luke if you squint and a sprinkle of loser!luke, brief mentions of suicide but nothing heavy, we finally find out which state reader is from

notes: this is so cute i love them.

PART III — she’s gonna save me, call me ‘baby’, run her hands through my hair

Wading through a misty green lake with Luke Castellan was not on your camp bucket list — something you’d produced with a young girl called Silena who you’d met in the arts and crafts cabin — but alas, here you were; knee deep in pond water and ankle deep in whatever sludge lived at the bottom, hands searching blindly along the floor while you tried your best to keep your chin dry.

You probably wouldn’t have been there if you were any good at Volleyball — which really doesn’t make much sense with the given context.

Okay, here’s what happened. It was Saturday at camp halfblood — and while you had been there for a solid three days now, you were yet to experience the joy of the weekends. Not that you knew they were any different, not until Travis Stoll approached you after breakfast.

“Heyyyy, uh...newbie.” He chuckled, sidling up beside you while you were occupied with deciding whether your camp shirt was better tucked into your shorts or left hanging over them.

You turned to the boy with an amused smile, reminding him of your name. He snapped his fingers at you, “I knew that. I did. I just prefer newbie.”

“What’s up, Travis?”

He dropped his finger guns, rocking back and forth on his feet and looking at you sheepishly, “Well, me and a few friends were gonna chuck a ball around on the beach and we need an extra player to make it even. Now that Luke’s not an option.”

He muttered that last bit low and under his breath, not in hopes that you wouldn’t hear but in hopes that Luke wouldn’t — there was no telling how far he was from you at any given moment, but he wasn’t going to tell you that, so he just put on his charming Stoll Smile and said, “So, wanna join us?”

You didn’t have anything to do that day, and since you’d assumed you were in for another long eight hours of finding out what you were good at and failing, a friendly game of ball (which you were safe to assume was volley, per what Luke told you yesterday) seemed like a great idea.

Only it wasn’t — friendly, that is. You wandered over to the net set up on the beach with Travis at your side and a taller girl with curly blonde hair narrowed her eyes at you in suspicion, “How good are you at this?”

“Uh —“ You shrugged, shaking your head slightly, “I’ve never played. We don’t have many beaches where I’m from.”

“You don’t need a beach to play volleyball, newbie.” Connor Stoll appeared out of nowhere, grinning at you, “But it’s easy to pick up. You can be on our team.”

Their team consisted of Connor, Chris, Poppy from the Demeter cabin, Evie and Evan (twins from the Ares cabin) and now, yourself. Apparently it was a lost cause whenever the Stolls were on the same team, so Travis was on the other side of the net with the blonde girl from earlier — who’s name you’d learnt was Sabine, and who’s godly parent was Nike, which did not decrease your nerves even a little bit.

“It’s pretty simple once you get the hang of it.” Evie explained to you once she noticed your unsure eyes. “Just don’t hit the ball twice in a row, Sab’s a stickler for that rule.”

“Other than that, we’re pretty lax.” Her brother tagged on, smirking at you, “This isn’t the Olympics.”

“Tell her that.” You side eyed the blonde on the other side of the net, who was cracking her knuckles and discussing strategy with Travis and Brynn, an Athena kid with a bright blue buzzcut.

The twins let out identical chuckles, sharing a look before patting your shoulders, “You’ll be fine.”

You didn’t have time to quip that the pair of them talking at the same time was a little foreboding before the game was on, and a volleyball was heading straight for you.

To be fair to you, you lasted longer than expected. Maybe it was your battle instincts kicking in, but you hadn’t missed the ball once — sure, your defence lacked any real strategy and was more you hitting the ball in whatever direction and hoping for the best, but it was working, so why complain? You wouldn’t qualify for varsity, but at least you were one upping a Stoll brother — the same couldn’t be said for most campers, you knew that much.

You actually thought you were getting pretty good, too. Your team was up by a few points (no thanks to you, all thanks to Evan. Seriously, he was like six foot four) and Sabine was getting angry. Every now and then she’d turn and scowl at Rhea, one of her teammates, and the girl would just shrug in response before returning to her position. But then, just when you started to get confident with it, Travis got you.

Hard, too. You were paying close attention to your feet, making sure you didn’t trip over any sand when you had to move, and unfortunately didn’t notice the ball coming at you until it clipped you in the face. You went down onto your ass, both hands flying to your nose and groaning when you felt a warm trickle of blood slide through your fingers and down your hands.

“Holy shit, newbie.” Travis sped over, dropping to his knees next to his brother and hovering over you, “I am so sorry, are you okay?”

Your speech was muffled and nasally when you replied with a swift, “No, asshole!”

“Shit.” He muttered, looking between Connor and Evie, “Uh, I can take you to the infirmary if you want —“

“I’ll take her.” Evan interrupted. He was crouched somewhere behind you, looking at your teammates over the top of your head. You felt his hands flatten on your back as he pushed you up to stand, the rest of the group joining him and wincing when some blood dripped onto the sand.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to —“ You held out a hand in his direction now that you could see him, only to press it firmly back against your face when your nose simply started to gush once the pressure had been removed.

“Yes,” He nodded, “I do. Let’s go.”

You let him lead you, sending an apologetic look to the remaining teens on the sand — you were pretty sure it looked nothing like an apology since your hands were covering half of your face and there was blood seeping through your fingers, but it was the effort that counted.

You didn’t receive as many looks as you thought you would’ve on the walk to the infirmary, although you assumed demigods had gotten worse injuries than a nosebleed before, so it wasn’t exactly odd. When you got there, you stopped on the porch and tried to speak to Evan as best you could without letting any more blood spill.

“You can — you can go.” You said through your hands, “I got it from here.”

He looked a little unsure, but you nodded firmly and he turned back the way he came. It was pretty embarrassing, walking into the infirmary with a bloody nose on your third day at camp, but the Apollo kid who took care of you said it was only a matter of time before you shed first blood, and that you’d better thank the gods it was a volleyball and not a hellhound that did the damage.

They stopped the bleeding with some sort of special gauze and told you to be a little more careful before sending you on your way — which was when you found Luke.

You didn’t even see him at first, more focused on folding the gauze you’d been given into a perfect square while you stepped off the wooden porch. But then a voice muttered your name in slight shock and confusion, and you looked up to meet those baby brown eyes you couldn’t help but love.

You grinned, “JoJo.”

Luke shook his head, “What were you doing in the infirmary?” His eyes tracked all over you, assessing for any visible injuries. When he found none, he turned his questioning gaze back to your face.

You sucked in some air through your teeth, embarrassed, “I, uh, got hit in the face with a volleyball. Turns out, I’m awful at it.” You let out a weak chuckle, and Luke rolled his eyes in amusement.

“Of course. I thought baseball was your thing?”

“It is.” You nodded, “But there’s nobody out here to play with, so…” Then an idea sprung, and your face lit up so visibly that Luke took a tentative step back, “Hey, why don’t you come watch? We’re playing on the beach.”

“Oh.” The boy paused, eyes sliding to the beach and back to you, “I don’t think so…I, uh, tend to spend my weekends alone.”

“You spend your everything alone.” You pointed out with a raised pair of brows. He pursed his lips. You sighed, “Come on. You don’t have to play.”

He looked as if he was thinking about it, and your hopes were raised a little. You liked Luke, you wanted to know him better and one day consider him a friend rather than a guy you harassed every day. But you were very aware of his aversion for all things social — the comment Travis made about Luke not playing with them anymore saddened you, and it pained you to imagine Luke all alone while his brothers and friends still had fun around him. But then his face dropped, and so did yours, Luke shaking his head no.

“I just…” He shrugged, “I don’t really…”

“It’s okay.” You interrupted before he could spout out his excuse. He didn’t need one. “We can do something else.”

“Oh, I —“ Another shake of the head, “You go back to them, don’t let me ruin it.”

“You aren’t ruining anything.” You said plainly, and you thought that those four words hit Luke a lot harder than expected, because he had this pensive look on his face that didn’t fade until you spoke again, “Listen, I know baseball isn’t exactly a camp sport, but I’ve got a ball. This place has gotta have bats — I mean, if it’s got swords, it’s got bats, right? So we grab them, we go off somewhere and take turns batting. I need to stay in practice anyway, if I’m gonna make varsity.”

You sent him your shiniest smile paired with some doughy eyes, and after squinting at you for a solid ten seconds, Luke agreed to your idea with a hesitant nod. You weren’t exactly expecting him to jump up and down in joy, so you took the liberty of doing that before asking him, very enthusiastically (because if you stayed positive, maybe it would rub off on him), to go look for a bat while you grabbed your ball.

Chris caught you exiting the Hermes cabin while he was filling up his water bottle using the outdoor tap not far from the porch, asking you what you were doing with a baseball. You explained that volleyball was definitely not your thing and ignored his chuckle of agreement in favour of informing him that you would be teaching Luke how to become the next Babe Ruth. He raised a brow.

“Really?”

“Uh, yeah.” You replied, a little put off by his reaction. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no.” He backtracked quickly, hands raised and water sloshing around his bottle as the movement, “I just…I dunno. Luke’s been a little off recently. If I were you, I wouldn’t meddle in it.”

“Meddle?” You asked, shaking your head, “In what?”

“In his…” He puffed out his cheeks, trying to find the words, “His funk.” He shook his head then, eyes glossing over as he thought about it, “He failed his quest, he’s a little butthurt, but…he’ll get over it. Y’know?”

You didn’t know.

“I just don’t think he needs babysitting.” He firmed, looking confident in his wording now that he’d found it, “He’s just gonna talk your ear off about how much he hates his life until you’re borderline suicidal. I wouldn’t bother, personally. He's a big boy, he can get over it.”

You rolled your lips over each other, staring blankly at Chris as he sent you a polite smile and walked back to the beach. Slowly, your eyes narrowed, and your brows pulled together. But you didn't say anything, you just turned around yourself and walked to where you’d asked Luke to meet you.

He was tossing the bat between his hands when you got there, dropping it in his left when he spotted you and nodding, “Alright, where are we doing this?”

You stopped, snapped out of a stupor you didn’t even realise you were in and blinking at him. For the first time since you’d met, it seemed that he was more focused and lively than you were. It irked him a little bit, and he frowned, “Sunny?”

“Sorry.” You responded immediately, shaking your head to rid yourself of your spiralling thoughts, “I just…uh, let’s go somewhere clear. We don’t wanna hit anyone with the ball.”

Luke led you to a clearing in the woods, explaining that the wood nymphs would be able to help you if the ball got lost in the foliage, so there was no need to hold back the arm you’d been bragging about for the entire walk. You just smirked, raised the bat level, and nodded at him to serve.

Yes, you were a thousand percent better at baseball than you were at volleyball. You knew that, of course, but it was nice to be reassured. Luke wasn’t half bad either, but you were also a really good runner, so you kept having to remind him that an average level fielder wouldn’t have a chance against his bats — you just so happened to be way above average.

Plus the wood nymphs were very helpful — apparently they didn’t get to watch many demigod activities other than capture the flag so it was refreshing for them to see you two play, and to actually be able to help.

All in all, you were having a great time. Which of course meant that you were long overdue for something going wrong. Of course.

“I can’t find it.”

“What?” You asked breathlessly, staring at the tree nymph who shrugged at you plainly.

“It rolled into a pond, I think.” He sniffed indignantly, “And I am not climbing into a pond.”

“Oh, and you expect us to?”

And that, kids, is how you ended up knee deep in pond water and ankle deep in something else — with Luke Castellan right by your side.

“This is so gross.” You whispered, grimacing as your hands ran over the murky bottom. You couldn’t see anything but your own reflection when you looked in, so you were replying on touch alone to help find your ball. “I can’t believe this. My lucky ball and it falls into a pond! Not so lucky anymore, huh? Yeah, lucky my ass.”

“Hey, Sunny?” A slosh of water rippled over you and you had to straighten up to avoid the tiny waves splashing in your face. They only increased at your movements, but you were too busy glaring at Luke to notice. He pressed his mouth together, holding in a chuckle, “You’re not being very sunny right now.”

You huffed, flinging your arms out at your sides and wincing when you splashed water on yourself by doing so, “I —“ A huff, “I don’t feel very sunny, Castellan. I am wading in sludge.”

He actually had the audacity to let a tiny grin slip through, “Wow, the last name? You’re acting like me right now. It’s weird.”

“I can’t believe this.” You repeated, narrowing your eyes at the boy, “I’ve been trying to cheer you up since the day I met you and when you finally do, it’s because you’re relishing in my pain? Fuck you.”

As if he was trying to piss you off, Luke laughed. He actually laughed, exactly like he had yesterday and if you weren’t so annoyed you’d be smiling at him for it. But you were annoyed, so all you did in response was send a wave of pond water at him and drench his front.

He stopped laughing. You started laughing.

“Okay, is that how you wanna play this?” He asked, stepping closer, “Is it?”

You grinned, stepping back. The water moved when you did, and the paired struggle of your’s and Luke’s legs under the water just increased the waves that oscillated around your knees. It slid up to your thighs and threatened to wet the denim of your shorts, but you were too busy prying your foot out of whatever the hell lived at the bottom of the pond so you could escape Luke’s wrath.

You shook your head, “You don’t wanna do this.”

He nodded mockingly, “I think I do.”

Then it was on. He lunged for you, and you dived to the left in a swift attempt to get around him. Water was splashing everywhere at this point but neither of you cared — especially when Luke’s hands were mere inches from your arms, waiting for your ankle to snag on some algae and pull you back so he could push you over. You were smarter than that though, so you did a swift one-eighty, dragging your hands under the water with you as you did — the wave that accumulated from the momentum doused Luke from head to toe, his curls sticking to his forehead. He wiped them away and blew hard from his mouth before forming a weak glare in your direction.

Your jaw trembled as you held in what you knew would be some serious chortles — but it was silent. The only noise apparent was the settling of the waves now that you had both stopped moving and Luke’s heavy breathing in front of you. He shook his head, stepping forward slowly, and you braced yourself for what was about to come.

“Hey!”

You paused. You shared a look with Luke before looking confusedly at the form that had appeared suddenly between the two of you. It was a girl by the looks of it, only she was made entirely of the water the two of you were standing in. She glared between the pair of you, hands on her hips.

“I don’t appreciate all this splashing.” You felt suddenly like you were being berated by a school teacher for talking too loud during class, “Are you trying to drain my pond? Are you?”

“N—No.” You responded, shaking your head, “We were just looking for — ”

The water nymph held up your ball with a stern expression, “This? Yeah, it looked like you were.”

Her sarcasm was not lost on you, and you tried your best not to meet Luke’s eyes, knowing they would fail you the second you did. Instead you looked at the nymph before you and took the ball from her outstretched hand, “Thank you. And, um, sorry…about the splashing.”

She folded her arms, lifting her head and straightening her shoulders, “That’s okay. Now get out.”

You were both quick to exit the water, although not too quick that you made anymore of it splash onto the rocks. Once you were out, the nymph nodded in satisfaction and melted back into the pond, and you and Luke were finally able to breathe. Then, you both burst into laughter.

“Oh my gods.” You huffed, shaking your head and looking down at yourself, “Did we just get into trouble?”

“With a water nymph?” He finished, shrugging off his wet shirt and wringing it out, “Yeah. How embarrassing.”

Your mouth was suddenly very dry. You knew Luke was strong — he had to be to fight a dragon and come back alive. To be known as the Best Swordsman in Camp. To be trusted by so many campers despite his newfound, distanced demeanour. But damn.

You blew out a long puff of air, hoping your reddened cheeks could be excused as some light sunburn. You weren’t as soaked as he was, but you still wafted your damp shirt from your body in hopes that it would dry — and also to give yourself something to do that wasn’t ogling at Luke’s lean figure.

He spread his shirt out on a rock, ensuring the sun was hitting it right before lowering himself to the ground on the dry grass a few feet away. He leant back on his hands, face to the sky, and revelled in the warmth. You stayed standing, fiddling with the button on your shorts, staring at him. At the scar on his face, at the rest of them along his chest.

He cracked one eye open, glancing at you, “What?”

“I, uh.” You licked your lips, “Nothing. Nothing.” You muttered, taking a seat beside him and crossing your legs. Your gaze stuck firmly to your lap and you waited for his to return to the sky. It didn’t.

“You can ask me.” He said then, shrugging.

“What happened on your quest?” You let slip, and when he stayed silent for a second too long, you realised that maybe that wasn't the question he was giving you permission to ask. “I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business, it’s nobody’s really. But Chris told me before that you’re in a funk and that seemed like a gross understatement but then again I’ve known you for, what, three days? He’s known you for years, so surely he’s right. But you just seem like it’s more than a funk, and I don’t know what to believe because I don’t know what happened but I also don’t want to ask because it’s none of my business and it’s also very clearly a sore subject because of what happened with Dean. Not that I think you’re gonna fly off the handle or anything, but it’s definitely a touchy subject and I can’t just go demanding all the details just because I wanna be your friend and— ”

A hand over your mouth stopped you from continuing what Luke was sure to be a very long tangent. He looked at you, half in shock, half in amusement, and huffed out a laugh, “Sunny, you need to calm down.”

You couldn’t respond, but you did nod. He removed his hand slowly and you swallowed your embarrassment. Luke sat up fully, straightening his back and clearing his throat, “Uh, okay. Have you heard of that Hercules story? With the golden apples?”

You nodded, afraid to speak in case you went off on a rant again. He nodded with you, “Yeah, well, my father sent me on that. The exact same quest…except I failed.”

That explained the scar, and the dragon story he’d mentioned very briefly yesterday. He started to go into a little more detail about his quest — and suddenly you were overcome with this…angry sort of sadness.

Hermes sent Luke on a quest that had already been done. After hearing Clarisse yap your ear off about Kleos, you understood why he’d been a little bummed. Honestly, if it were you, you wouldn’t have even gone. What’s the point in doing a quest that’s already been done? But you didn’t say that to Luke, who seemed a little deep into his story. You just simmered in your irritation while he continued to explain his battle with Ladon, and his ultimate failure.

“I refused to leave the infirmary for a week.” He chuckled, but it was a little sad. “I mean, I’m supposed to be a leader here, and I fail my first quest? Some demigod I turned out to be.”

Without even thinking, you shook your head, “You didn’t fail.” Luke looked at you, confused, “You battled a dragon with a hundred heads and lived. That doesn’t sound like failure to me.”

“But I didn’t get the apples.” He explained. “I disappointed my father.”

“Your father…” You said slowly, unsure of how your next words would land, “Who I’m going to assume had never spoken to you until the day he gave you your quest?” Luke nodded after a brief pause and you took that as permission to continue, “So who cares if he’s disappointed? He clearly doesn’t care if you’re mauled by a dragon.”

“Exactly.” Luke replied, brows pulled together in the way they had been when you’d first met. Angry, irritated. Disappointed. “Everyone keeps telling me to get over it. That demigods have failed quests before and it just means I need to try harder next time but…why should there be a next time? Really, if you sit and think about it for a second, why are we even here? To train, so we don’t die whenever monsters come and attack us? And who’s fault is that? Maybe if our parents were good people, there wouldn’t be any monsters trying to murder their kids. If they cared, even a little bit, they’d do more than just claim us and leave us to die!”

He scoffed, looking in the direction where you knew the rest of the campers resided — playing games, building weapons, dedicating every waking hour to becoming the best of the best. And for what? For glory? For a pat on the back from a parent who can’t even be bothered to raise them?

“They don’t get it.” He said then, turning back to you, “They think this is all okay. They’re too invested to realise that they’re just being used. They’re so focused on getting a shred of recognition from the gods that they don’t understand that it’s never gonna come.”

“So…” You finally spoke, your first words in a minute, “What do we do?”

Luke shrugged then, “I don’t know yet.”

It was silent for a long time after that. Luke stayed staring at the floor and you led back to stare at the sky. He was right, wasn’t he? Sure, you’d only been in this for a little while, but you weren’t stupid. You knew the gods didn’t care — you’d figured out that much when you got to camp. A dumping ground for demigods. Demigod daycare, except mommy isn’t coming to pick you up at three o’clock. Luke deserved to be angry, he deserved to mope — they all did.

But they wouldn’t. You could sit there and curse the gods for hours on end, but that was still half of you. And that, you thought, was probably the worst part of it all.

You were so caught up in your feelings that when the tree that had been shading you phased into a nymph and walked away, you jumped halfway out of your skin, “Jeezum crow.”

You looked at Luke, expecting him to either share the same dumbfounded look on his face or be laughing at you — something he seemed to be doing a lot of today — but instead he was staring at you, slack-jawed and wide eyed. You blinked, “What?”

“You’re from Vermont.”

Your mouth snapped shut, and his expanded into the grin you’d been hassling him for since you’d set your sights on him. You sighed, “Fuck.”

He let out a disbelieving laugh, “You’re from Vermont! Holy shit. I should’ve known it when you called me a flatlander.” He threw his head back, and you shook yours at his dramatics. But he didn’t care, he just pointed at you, “You’re a fuckin’ woodchuck!”

“Oh my gods.” You groaned into your hands, pulling yourself to your feet in hopes of escaping his sudden glee. “Is that so bad?”

“No.” He laughed, following you, “I’m just amazed that I figured it out. I’m a genius!”

“Okay.” You sent him a blank look, but it only lasted a few seconds before your tiny smile was fighting through, “It’s not like you’ve discovered the meaning of life. Calm down.”

“Never.” He shook his head, “This is my greatest achievement.”

“You fought a dragon.”

“Screw the dragon!” He gripped your biceps, grinning at you, “You’re from Vermont!”

“You’re not funny.”

“And yet you’re laughing.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not!”

____________

“What’d you do to him?”

You threw a piece of salmon into the fire, glancing at Chris, “I’m getting deja vu. Haven’t you asked me this already?”

“Yeah, but…” The boy looked behind him, back at the Hermes table, where Luke was perched on the end and waiting patiently for you to come back from the hearth before digging into his food, “This time I mean it. I mean, he still isn’t talking to us, but he’s sitting on our side of the table again. You can be honest with me…” He sent you a grave look, “Did you give him a BJ?”

“What? No!” You threw a pea at him. “I just listened to him.” You tried to be a little serious, but clearly Chris wasn’t getting the hint, so you relented, “And doused him in pond water.”

He laughed at that, nodding proudly. You turned back to the fire, asking Aphrodite to get rid of your split ends. You’d given up on praying to your father, deciding to go through every Olympian until one of them answered. So far, only Hera had responded — you assumed so, anyway, when a cuckoo woke you up from your afternoon nap. That wasn’t very helpful, but at least it was an answer. You didn’t suspect campers prayed to her often, so she probably appreciated the sentiment.

“So…” Travis smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at you once you sat down. He sent this look around the group, but even Connor gave him a weirded out look in response. He huffed, “It’s team day tomorrow.”

A collective ohhh seemed to hum around the group, but you were still confused. You sent a questioning look to Luke who said, “For Capture the Flag. Tomorrow is when all the cabin counsellors gang up and decide on the two teams.”

“Then we have five days to strategise.” Travis continued on very dramatically, hands splayed on the table, “And on Friday…we battle.”

That seemed to lift the energy up a bit, the people around you sharing mischievous looks. They started to discuss amongst them who would be the best cabin to ally with, Lana turning to Chris, “Who are you gonna pick?”

Chris went to speak, but paused. He seemed to think about something, looking slightly scared but still turning to the boy across from him anyway, “I thought maybe…Luke would like to reinstate himself as team captain this month.”

Right, you’d completely forgotten. During your spear lessons with Clarisse, you’d asked her why it was so important that you be amazing at fighting quickly if monsters couldn’t get into camp. She’d then explained the whole situation that was Capture the Flag — how it was a bigger deal than the super bowl around here — before briefly mentioning that Luke had always been Hermes team captain, but stepped down for the last game because his scar was still healing from his quest. Chris had taken over for him, and based off of the looks the people around you were sporting, you assumed they weren’t expecting him to give up his title so quickly.

You couldn’t blame them. Luke hadn’t exactly expressed much desire to captain this time — he hasn’t expressed much desire for anything these days apparently. You were all waiting for him to let Chris down easy, but instead he looked up from his plate with an indifferent nod and said, “Yeah, sure.”

Nobody said anything. Except Chris who, when Luke stood to rack up his empty plate, looked at you gravely and asked, “Was it a handjob?”

🏷️ @katherines-imagines @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry @jennapancake @cobaltskiez @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @m00ng4z3r @mischiefmoons @woodlandwrites @theo-notts-doll @iammightsadyall @fennecswife @csifandom @tsireyasgf (just ask to be removed/added!)

#sunny!verse #@lia’s works #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #i am a hoe for loser!luke #i also know nothing about baseball #hence the very brief baseball scene #its just like rounders im pretty sure #but im not too confident on that #also reader maybe gets claimed in the next part #wink wink

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sir-kuroo · 8 months

Text

.—♡ 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐄, 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒 { K. KENMA }

KENMA accidentally walked in on you in the airplane lavatory; @mrskenmakozume: dedicated to you like before and as always

︶︶୨୧ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 ⋮ pwp, semi-public sex, frotting, dry humping, penetration, slight dacryphilia, airplane sex xD (trust me with the outrageous places to have sex) 𖦹 @enchantedforest-network

It was a bad idea opening up the link Lev sent, Kenma thought. He never expected it would be a hentai game and his curious ass played it while on flight. Great. He knew he couldn’t take it any longer or he’d get his balls blue for real. Pulling his hoodie on, he rushed to the restroom, opening the first available cubicle.

You both froze as you were halfway from pulling your panties back up. Your pussy was fully exposed from his sight.

Fuck!

He immediately turned around and was about to open the door when you stopped him, “Don’t! Don’t open yet!” You pleaded in embarrassment. “I’m not yet fully dressed some people outside might see me!”

Shit! He’s annoyed. Fucking annoyed. He’s already hard and you got him even harder. Just…Fuck!

“Hurry up.” He snapped. “You should’ve closed the door.”

“I did!” You rebutted.

Kenma glared at the door lock and flipped the switch. Some of the lights turned even brighter and the green sign from above turned to red. “This is how you lock it.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes! Did this person even realize that you’re the one humiliated here? The only thing he had was a pretty face, but what’s with the personality?

“Okay. I’m done.” You said, avoiding eye contact. He just saw you half-naked!

“We can’t go out together.” He leaned back to the wall, giving you space to make your way out of the restroom. Striding sidewards through the tight space, your ass grazed against his crotch. He tightly pinched his eyes close. He sure felt your shape through those tight leggings.

You were about to unlock the door when the plane wobbled. The toilet seat cover closed as you both struggled to keep your feet.

Ladies and gentlemen the fasten seatbelt sign is on. Please remain seated at all times.

Your body bumped on Kenma’s, throwing the both of you off balance, which had you stumbling right on his lap. Good thing he managed to sit on the covered toilet.

You both sighed as soon as it stopped quaking. However, your eyes widened when you felt his bulge poking against your ass. You looked back at him and he had that wide-eyed gaze and flushed face.

Now, you’re quits.

He’s quite the pretty boy though, bearing that cute and boyish features. You mentally slapped yourself! You shouldn’t be thinking this way towards the guy who just saw your privates and whose hard-on was poking your back.

You were about to stand up, when the plane seesawed and you fell hard back on his lap.

Fuck! Kenma took hold of your waist, keeping you in place so you won’t fall. This new position had his cock in between your crotch. Your soft cunt roughly rubbing against him. Your walls clenched with the friction as the plane kept on shaking while your hips matched the movement.

He's growing even bigger.

Kenma gritted his teeth and you bit your lip. It felt so good.

The turbulence ended yet no one’s making a move to stop and you just kept on squirming around him.

“W-we can’t do this!” You said, but your hips were grinding his length.

“Yes, we sh- we shouldn’t.” He said, but he’s doing nothing to move you away and you were both still hungrily rubbing against each other.

More! More! More!

He needed more! As long as he could still control himself, he better stop this now, right? That’s just sensible. He lifted you away from his lap, giving you a chance to run, however you pulled your leggings and panties down.

“A-Are you sure this is okay?” You asked with reddened face, taking his gesture differently.

His eyes were wide as he couldn’t believe what just happened. “I think so...”

He’s pretty sure that his fucking dick was now dominating his head.

He freed his cock from the opening of his pants. It wasn’t that difficult as he’s already full-pledged. Hastily, he put on a condom with agitated fingers. It’s better to be safe, though he had no intention of putting it inside you.

Guiding you on his lap again, your thighs sandwiched his cock and your bare pussy was rubbing his length. You rocked your hips, pressing your mounds further against his flesh to add a satisfying pressure against your clit, sliding and dragging the lips of your pussy on the length of his cock and coating it with your wetness. His hips met your rhythm and gradually increased it, until the plane teetered.

“Aaaah~” You moaned. You were both jolted! He accidentally slipped inside you!

Cabin crew prepare for landing.

Kenma wrapped his arms firm around your waist and you gripped on the side handle tightly. Your bodies were shifting together with every tilt of the plane. Both of you were no longer in control of your movements, yet it was very satiating. His cock was reaching the deepest and most pleasurable spots inside you, while the plane's brisk motions were giving him so much friction and it's getting him close to losing his mind.

You had to tightly latch onto each other with the intensity of the shaking. Tears started forming in the corners of your eyes. Kenma had his forehead pressed on your nape while you were holding his head, reaching a hand from behind. You both couldn't even manage to cover your groans and whimpers as the plane began its descent. Both of you were drowning in pleasurable friction caused by the sudden tilts and vibrations.

As the wheels of the aircraft touched the runway, his grip on your waist tightened even more and so was your hold on the side handle; the impact took you bouncing up and down raggedly and violently against his cock, getting the both of you to your destination, screaming and crying curses while you were being completely muffled by the engine’s noise.

You both trembled out of your orgasms, still throbbing at how intense it all felt and reeling in the pulses in your core.

Ladies and gentlemen we have now arrived at Galeão International Airport, Rio de Janeiro. Please remain seated until the fasten seatbelt sign is turned off. Current ground temperature is…

Your minds were empty as you caught your breaths, panting and limply swaying your heads. It was so good that your pussy and his cock felt like it’s burning hot in the right way. You both wanted more of it, but you had no energy left.

“Are you…Are you alright?” Kenma asked in an airy whisper.

You nodded your head silently.

“Can you walk?” Somehow, something inside him wanted to assist you outside but…

You blushed. There’s no other way or else you had to walk out together and people would be suspicious. You gave him another nod and stood from his lap, his now flaccid cock slipping out of you. You pulled your panties and leggings up and almost stumbled. Your knees felt like jelly.

“Walk closely to the wall.” He said gently.

“Alright, thank you.” You told him without looking back. You didn’t even get his name or whatever, but you sure would never forget his face.

Kenma watched as you walked out of the door.

Shit! What did he just do? First flight to a different continent and he fucked up. Literally.

Running a hand over his face, he let out a sigh. He hadn’t even asked for your name. All he knew was your whines were kinda’ cute…just like you. He blushed. What was he even thinking now? Did the plane ride rewire his brain?

Kenma went out of the restroom once he sensed that almost all of the passengers had already gone, though there’s a part of him that hoped you were still there. Even up to the baggage carousels, he sort of looked for you, but you were nowhere to be found anymore.

Anyway, what would he even do? Ask for your name and where you’re heading? He’s just here to visit Shoyo. That’s it. This would probably be one of the experiences he’d keep to the grave.

Finally picking his luggage up from the conveyor belt, he glanced around to search for his friend until the bright boy beamed at him. His name written in a white paper. “Ke-n-ma!”

Kenma smiled upon seeing him again after a long time. He looked toasted, geez.

“Shoyo,” he greeted back.

"Welcome to Rio!" Shoyo welcomed him happily. “Oh! I forgot to tell you.” He said with excitement. “This is Y/N! She’s the friend I was talking about to you. I’ll tour you two together. I actually booked you in the same hotel…”

The ginger head’s voice drowned as you and Kenma stared at each other, frozen and red-faced.

It looks like you were never done yet.

JOIN THE 🍷 𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄! Get tagged whenever I update ♡

⏝︶︶⏝︶ ୨୧ ︶⏝︶︶⏝

#kenma smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #kozume kenma smut #kenma x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #kozume kenma x reader #hq kenma #haikyuu kenma

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theemporium · 1 month

Note

A number 15 green-eyed mojito with Nico💚

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

15. "What would I be jealous about?”

“You’re staring.”

“I’m observing.”

“If looks could kill, he would be dead.”

“Tragic.”

“Oh my god,” Jack grumbled under his breath, shooting his captain a concerned look before shaking his head. “Remind me not to piss you off.”

Nico rolled his eyes. “You piss me off quite often, actually.”

“I—” Jack paused, his eyes narrowing as he lightly jabbed his side with his elbow. “One, that was rude. Two, you need to calm down. You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend and you aren’t even her boyfriend. You’re just the jealous part.”

Nico scoffed, but he didn’t tear his eyes away from you.

Because, as much as it pained him to admit, Jack was right. He was acting like a jealous boyfriend and he was fully aware of that. But it wasn’t like self-awareness couldn’t exactly stop the bitter feelings bubbling in the pit of his stomach as he watched the man openly flirt with you.

“You know,” Jack continued, something quite like amusement in his voice. “This wouldn’t be a problem if you just grew the balls to ask her out.”

And he hated that Jack was right again.

The crush he had been harbouring on you was obvious to everyone with a pair of working eyes. Or at least, everyone except you. Since the day you started on the team, Nico had been all lovesick smiles and longing gazes, practically throwing himself at any social media opportunity he could just so he could spend time with you. It was a little embarrassing and pathetic, all things considered.

But the worst part was that it had been a better part of two years and Nico had made no move to confess his feelings towards you.

Which then led to moments like now, where Nico had no real reason to feel as irritated as he was over some guy from the media team flirting with you.

“Shut up,” was all he managed to mutter out.

“This is actually really sad to watch,” Jack muttered before sighing deeply. “Just know that I’m doing this because, as your friend and alternate, I’m worried about you possibly breaking your jaw before making a move.”

Nico frowned a little. “What are you—”

But before Nico could even stop whatever stupid move Jack was going to pull, he was calling out your name and waving his hands in such an exaggerated and overly dramatic manner that Nico felt his cheeks heating up.

“I hate you,” Nico muttered under his breath as you began making your way over.

“You’re about to hate me so much more but I know you love me,” Jack whispered back before he grinned at you, the words leaving his mouth so quick that Nico almost thought he imagined it when the younger boy said, “Nico is jealous.”

And then, the fucker was running off and leaving a gaping Nico in the dust to deal with the consequences.

You blinked in surprise before you turned to the boy. “You’re jealous?”

“Me? Jealous? What would I be jealous about?” Nico attempted to laugh off, but it was forced and dry and it didn’t quite land the way he wanted to when he noticed your brows furrowing in concern. “Jack is just messing about, don’t listen to him.”

“Really?” You questioned, watching as Nico quickly nodded in response. “So it has nothing to do with the fact you have spent the last fifteen minutes glaring at Thomas?”

Nico blinked, feeling the blush spread from his cheeks to the tip of his ears. “Uh—”

“For what it’s worth, I’m not interested in him,” you said.

“Oh.” He couldn’t bring himself to care how happy he sounded, how hopeful.

“I’m interested in someone else,” you continued.

“Oh.” The disappointment was clear and heavy in his voice, inklings of the previous jealousy sinking into his response.

“You might know him,” you added, trying to bite back your smile when you watched his nose scrunch up. “He’s a hockey player, has a cute accent and pretty brown eyes. Think he might even be the captain or something.”

Blood roared in his ears and he was pretty sure his smile was going to split his cheeks, but he didn’t care. “Really?”

“Yeah, but he’s a little blind,” you teased, almost looking a little bashful despite the unwavering confidence in your voice. “I’ve been waiting for him to ask me out but he hasn’t been catching my hints.”

“He sounds a little stupid,” Nico murmured. Maybe he would’ve felt embarrassed if his heart didn’t feel like it was about to beat out of his own chest. “But I bet he’s wondering if you’re free at seven tonight.”

“Let him know it’s a date,” you said, grinning right back at him.

#cece's cocktail celebration #nico hischier #nhl #new jersey devils #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier fic #nico hischier one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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loganlermanstanaccount · 9 months

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 6)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

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

Part 5, Part 7

summary: Everything unravels. You teach Miguel a lesson.

warnings: soooo much smut. mutual masturbation, grinding, slight femdom, Miguel is a submissive switch cuz I said so, m! masturbation. very very 18+ Minors DNI (ageless blogs will be blocked, thanks!)

a/n: yeah...so. ya.

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: 8k

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

in your half-hearted hubris,

Miguel is not a jealous man. Jealousy implies something he thought was shed long ago: a second skin of something green-eyed and crooked.

One minute, he's watching you kiss someone else. And when you sigh into it; imperceptibly, but he notices because he always sees these things about you; he's biting the inside of his cheek and drawing blood. The guy you danced with, and now your lips are on his. Is… Is that your type? Jun is slender and charming; a pretty boy, through and through . There's a hand on your thigh, he notices, milky white and willowy. It has Miguel looking at his own, rough and tan, the ghost of soft skin and pillowy thighs on his fingertips. The illicit foray of one night, one night with you , and he's second guessing himself.

Insecure.

His hands are rough and calloused. He picks at hangnails, the skin is raw from rubber gloves and mystery chemicals, and knuckles creaky because he cracks them too often. Is that what you like? The kind of thing you touch yourself to; his hands, pawing at flesh. Jun cups your chin, slender fingers pulling you closer, and your own come up to wrap around them. You seem desperate for it, panting and pretty lashes fluttering when you separate.

And you look at Jun like… like he wants you to look at him.

There's blood in his mouth when you finally do. He looks away, quick and furtive, like you've caught him doing something wrong. It's not right or wrong, he supposes, just tripping over a muddle of thoughts – still stuck on the image of your hand on Jun's.

He was a late bloomer, awkwardly proportioned and too tall for his limbs. Clumsy, if you can believe it. He's always been a bit of a bull in a China shop; bulldozing and brutish and still growing into a body that pools at his ankles and is tight around his wrists. Like an ill-fitting suit; the kind he wore to Fernanda's quince, skirting the rental hall with a bottle of j2o. In and out of conversations, tripping and stuttering over words in stiff dress shoes and a waistcoat . Gabi took a lot of photos: peace signs and pointer finger looped into coat pockets.

Point is; he's not felt this way in years . Tongue-tied, hot and cold, heart-pounding. Jun decidedly isn't; able to talk to you like a normal person, making you smile and laugh. Curling fingers into the crest of a wide palm, he digs his nails into the flesh: producing a sting that makes it crystal clear. Oh. Oh.

Fuck.

One minute, he's nursing a warm beer and trying not to take a chunk out the inside of his mouth. The next, he's on the floor of Lyla's living room, blinking up at bright lights.

There's soft hands all over him. Holding his own, cupping his cheek, moving his head this way and that as he tries to focus. He's looking at your pretty lips, pert and pressed into the lean line of a frown. There are… people talking over the other; strained and hushed in a quiet corner.

He recognises Lyla's voice, distinctive despite the ringing in his ears.

"A-All over a drink…. pushing past 'em, Jess…. he threw the first punch…"

~~~

The drive home is terse, air thick with something. Stewing, you've got your arms crossed and head turned to the windows. You're watching the streaky lights of the city zip past, lips pursed. Head on the glass, you're making a point not to turn back or utter a word to Miguel.

"You picked a fight." You swipe a finger on the condensation, finally ready to talk.

He shrugs limply. A beat passes.

"....this is the part where you explain what happened, Miguel."

"I picked a fight."

"...that's it?" Your brows shoot up. "You just… there was no build up? Why? "

"Wanted to give 'em something to bond over in the morning." He deadpans, glancing over to the passenger seat. "Matching black eyes."

You shake your head slightly. "Don't believe you."

You see something flash in his gaze, and then it's gone. He smooths over features, and that Miguel is back: lifeless and blank. Steadfast, he doesn't turn to look at you.

"Okay." He says simply.

"All that Ophelia shit from a couple of weeks ago, and you still won't –" It's under your breath as you clamp down anger. If Miguel hears, he doesn't indicate. "I just want to understand."

He purses his lips. "Nothing to understand. I'm an insecure piece of shit, and I picked a fight. I ruined Jess' birthday, and fucked it up for everyone else. I know. Can we… Can we speed this bit up? I'm exhausted. "

"No-one… I didn't say that." Your voice is hoarse. He's being mean. He's never been all that nice; sarcastic and smug, for sure, but never cruel. It feels spiteful. You're blinking away a hot tear before you can stop it. And then they become angry tears, ones that sting your cheeks on the way down.

You're not good with fights. Never have been. And it's not even the confrontation that scares you, it's the apathy. Sifting through your guts and begging someone to care, when they don't. It's like screaming at a brick wall and expecting the mortar to shift; a pointless exercise in delusion. You'd grown sick of it with Jamie; the hand-waving and the what do you want me to do about it of it all. It's the one thing you've grown to like about Miguel, about all your little fights. He's rarely the bigger person, petty, and able to get down in the shit and stink with you; because, on some small level at least, he gives a fuck. He cares .

You're embarrassed that you even thought he would be any different. Disappointed, but not with him: with yourself for getting caught up in all of this.

You're sniffling, wiping up and flattening out of sheer spite; refusing to let him see how a stupid thing like this affects you. The tears well up in your eyes, hot and blurry and you're focusing on holding yourself together by the seams before you get home.

You don't notice him pull into a side road and park the car. It rolls to a stop, and he's reaching over to the backseat; and pulling out a box of tissues. The box is floral and tissues scented; rosy and sweet in a way you wouldn't expect from him.

When he nudges you with the box, apologetic, you're still not looking at him; not even flicking over to give him a dirty look.

"Chula. " It rolls off his tongue so softly, but you jut your chin in the air. "Please. I'm sorry."

You purse your lips.

"I'm a dick."

"Yep." You manage.

"I picked a fight. I'm an insecure piece of shit–"

"No, no." You're turning back, quickly. "Stop saying that. Why are you saying that?"

He shrugs again, and you flop into your seat. You notice, he's gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white.

"Relax , Miguel." You wrap a hand around his, and watch him visibly melt. His gaze softens. "M'not trying to push, I'm sorry."

You take his hand off the wheel, inspecting the purple and blue that spreads across taught skin. His palm is rough, knuckles bony and bruised.

"When we get home–" Home. You sigh, bringing it up to the little car lights. "I've got a first aid kit, somewhere. We need to clean this up, or it might get infec–"

Looking up, you catch Miguel staring , stars in his eyes, and it… it knocks the breath out of your lungs. All of a sudden, you're flustered and letting go of his hand in a hurry.

All he does is nod, starting the car. He runs a hand through his hair, pulling away with a palm on the flat of the wheel. In the light of street lamps, shadow cutting his cheekbones just so. He's beat up, he's tired, but even then; Miguel is so, so pretty.

~~~

You end up in the bathroom, first aid kit splayed on the countertop. He insists on standing, despite a slight limp he tries to downplay, and so you're sitting on the faux marble with Miguel between your legs. Your dress rides up but you're too tired to care, ripping open gauze and tapping disinfectant on a little pad. At least he has the decency to be still and quiet, with his palms on the counter top and kissing bare thigh.

Miguel is tall, still having to bend over when you pat the peak of a split lip; hand on his chin ever so gently.

"Where'd you get all of this from?" He asks because your first aid kit is comprehensive : micropore, gauze and antiseptic with a name that sounds like sleeping pills.

You're swatting him gently, trying to keep his jaw still. "My ex was a med student."

He smothers a smile, like he's trying not to laugh.

"...what?"

"...is he the one that couldn't make you cum?"

You stop tending to his wounds, hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. Never have I ever faked an orgasm – the words start ringing in your head. You're not a blushing virgin, but his crass word choice makes you flush.

"None of your business."

He smirks. "So that's a yes. "

"I faked it once or twice , sue me. But… I mean, the sex wasn't bad. It was even good, sometimes."

"Sure." He cringes, and you bat his shoulder.

"Don't want to hear it."

He hums, pressing a little closer to your front.

"What was he like, then?" He seems nonchalant; but his tone is unusual, sending shivers down your spine.

"He was… nice."

"Nice?"

"Yep." Four years, and that's the best you can come up with. It's all you can verbalise, at least. How does one describe the feeling of getting hit by a metaphorical train? One that leaves you on the tracks, thinking of picnic dates and IOUs and diner coffee? They'd describe it as poorly as you do, most likely. A moment passes. "I loved him, I think."

You don't know why you said that, but the melancholy of the night starts to sink in.

"Then why'd you break up?"

You shrug. "Wasn't enough."

He looks surprised, eyebrows drawn up momentarily, as if that's the last thing he thought you'd say. You strike him as a romantic; ditzy and dopey when you have feelings for someone, a love conquers all type of person.

The mood sours, air heaving in that little bathroom. You finish up in silence, applying strips to a gash above his brow. It takes some time for him to speak, as if he's been building up the confidence.

"Is that your type?" He asks, finally puncturing that pressure.

You shake your head, a little confused.

"Nice? Like that guy you were talking to."

"...Jun?" You hesitate, sensing something else behind his words. "I mean… I just wanted to get laid."

He doesn't really react, thumb grazing the silk of your slip dress. The skin his hand brushes past feels a little hotter.

"He's pretty, though." You're careful not to make eye contact, getting to work cleaning the cuts on his knuckles. You smile to yourself. "And yeah, he's nice. More than nice, actually. "

Jun works with computers. Jun is good with his hands. And you really were going to fuck him. Until… until…

…until Miguel got into a fight. After watching you kiss someone else. The gears turn in your head, creaky and lumbering because you haven't had to navigate a shitty pseudo-situationship in forever. You're wrapping up his hand with gauze, mouth moving quicker than you can think.

"Are you jealous?"

He splutters, flashing pearly whites in indignation.

"No… No . You can fuck whoever you want." He says it too quickly. "I don't care."

He looks a mess; a gash above one eye, a nasty cut glancing the side of his lip, and knuckles bruised. Suspecting more hiding beneath his shirt, you look at him, gaze heavy. You're worried, even when you shouldn't be, even when he doesn't deserve it.

"Oh my God." You're connecting dots, and your stomach churns with the realisation. "What the fuck ?"

" M-not -"

"Just because you don't want to fuck me– "

"I never said I didn't want to–"

"You didn't have to, you just refused to acknowledge how we almost did for two weeks. "

"Neither did you!"

"I wanted to… after. And you said we couldn't, because I had a lecture."

"You did have a lecture, and you were high! That doesn't mean anything… I need you to mean it when you say it."

"So you resort to sabotage? I was gonna get laid, you fucking asshole."

"You kissed him."

" So? "

"You didn't kiss me."

That one takes the wind out of your sails, and you're stammering with the amount of brainpower it takes to wrap your head around it. You slip off the counter, putting some space between you both.

"...I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm not saying you can't kiss him… o-or you're not allowed to, or some crap. I just don't get it. I don't understand."

He's holding your hands in his,

"You just met the guy, and you kiss him on a stupid dare–"

" –he kissed me." You correct him, voice hoarse.

"He kissed you . Cool. Whatever. You kissed him back. But when I tried to kiss you, after… " He trails off.

"I dodged one kiss . Maybe I wasn't feeling it."

"And that's fine. I respect that, and I respect you. But it wasn't just one kiss. It's all the time , around here. I say something, then you say something, and then… we have a moment. Time just stops. Can't you feel it? I-I feel like I'm going crazy."

You keep quiet, only the sound of your heart racing to punctuate thoughts.

"Miguel… "

He gets even closer, pressing you against the counter, his bandaged hand migrating to your waist, and then the small of your back. Your knees are weak as you swallow roughly, with Miguel; strong, annoyingly handsome, perceptive Miguel; resting his forehead on yours. You come together, intimate, even allowing your eyes to flutter shut, waiting for the press of lips on yours.

It never comes. Wrenching yourself away at the last minute, you're standing in the doorway; arms folded, because you don't know what to do with your limbs anymore.

He doesn't look disappointed. Just deflated.

"Do you want to fuck me?" He asks. Yes , you answer, but he can't hear it.

"Do you want to kiss me?" Do you want me? Do you want me in a way no-one else can have me?

This feels different. Not as simple as a yes or no.

Your face must say it all for you, because he sighs. "I just want to know why."

His behaviour has been erratic, to say the least. You've spent a good month and a half terrorising each other, before coming to an uneasy truce – and he fucked it up. All that talk like he knows you, that he sees you, and it all feels for naught.

"After all the shit you've pulled… what gives you the right? I was so worried about you–" Your voice is barely above a whisper. " Fuck this. M'going to bed."

Slipping into the gloom of the hallway, and then into your room, leaving Miguel there.

It's different, why can't he see that it's different? A one night stand, with Jun, with someone else; kissing a guy in a dare doesn't have consequences. You get off, you go home. Simple, clinical, no need for niceties. With Miguel, as you've come to realise, there are other things to navigate. Even when high, you knew ; with someone like him, it's too intimate – the possible consequences too dire. He's your roommate, for God's sake.

You can hear him now, turning off the bathrooms lights and padding into his room. For once, there's nothing to be heard from behind the wall. The dim light spills in, warm yellow pooling around the door. Your window is open, moonlight and the city below to keep you company.

And you want him to stew in that room, to punish him for all the shit he's put you through in the past week; hell, the past few months you've been here. But you can't. If you're sick of the mind games, you can't keep this game of chicken going – you're both careening towards the edge faster than you can say the words: Yes, Miguel; I want to sit on your face. If you could get rid of the attitude, that would be great, too .

So you're knocking on his door, still in your dress, tugging down its hem when he opens. He's in that shirt and slacks, bloodied front and all.

Deep breath. You straighten your back, and make sure you're heard, loud and clear.

"I don't like it when you bring over girls to fuck them in your room. The walls are too thin, and I can't sleep because I hear everything. Everything, Miggy."

He's stony-faced, unreadable as ever. Still, you continue.

"I don't like it when you look at me… like that, and then pretend it never happened. You're inconsistent, sarcastic, you freak out whenever there's a sock out of place and it drives me fucking crazy–"

" I don't –"

"I'm not finished. You're a prick. You don't tell people you love them enough, when… when you do. You so clearly do. Lyla was worried when you took so long to get to Jess' – just give her a call, sometimes. Let people know what's going on."

His face is stuck somewhere between abject horror and plain old shock. For Miguel, that means his eyebrow is raised a half-inch higher than usual.

"...you finished?" He strains.

"One more.. ." Another breath. "...your poker face needs work. Because you look like you need a shit half the time."

His jaw shifts. You maintain eye contact; despite everything screaming that you should run with your tail between your legs.

"I fucking hate you , Miguel."

"I know." He softens, running a hand through his hair. Leaning against the frame, he steps a little closer; and imperceptibly, you're both pulled by the gravity of the other. All of a sudden, your head is on his chest, blood-spattered cotton that smells like him, arms wrapped around his middle. Hesitant, he pulls you even closer, slotting into the crook of your neck as best he can.

Wordlessly, you separate. You knit your eyebrows together, looking up at him. With your hand on his cheek, he leans into your touch. You graze a thumb on his lips, eyes fluttering at the broken skin: plump and messy and pretty.

"Sit down." You say it so softly, he convinces himself he didn't hear it.

You go again. "Sit down."

Your tone makes him flush, and then he's sitting on the edge of the bed. He leans back, you step forward; legs brushing his knees splayed atop the sheets.

"Do you want me?"

He's nodding before he even hears the end of the sentence, eyes locked onto yours.

You shrug.

"Prove it. "

And it goes straight to his cock: the way you say it, blasé and casual, like you haven't put words to the way he's been feeling for weeks. Usually, he'd start to spiral, endlessly loop around what you mean. Want , strong and heady; and to him that means a hungering that leaves his throat dry and innards bare.

Do you want me? Do you want me in a way no-one else can have me?

And yet, he doesn't quite know the answer. Instead, he shows you; hoping and praying he hasn't read this wrong.

Barely breathing, studying your every move, he takes your other hand. You hinge slightly at the hip, coming closer, eyes still locked onto his and he places your little palm onto his crotch. It spans his whole length, quickly hardening. When you don't react, he panics, trying to move your hand away…

…and then you squeeze .

Miguel keens, bucking into the pressure you apply with the heel of your palm. He starts a slow roll of hips, other hand wrapped around yours on his cheek; melting into it, in a way that brings heat to that sweet spot between your legs. And then he stutters to a stop, lips parted and panting.

"Why'd you stop?"

"G-Got carried away. Sorry ."

His brows are knitted, shoulders hunched, and when you slide your hand down to the corded muscles of his neck, he tenses. He always seems so stressed, but you've never seen him like this: desperate and falling apart at the seams.

"You're okay, Miguel. Relax. "

You shift your wrist, rolling around that growing tent in your palm. He hisses, palms flat by his side and head thrown back. With a little smile, you watch his shoulders melt, satisfied.

"Does it feel good?"

"Y-Yes." He groans. Despite your quickening pace, he seems to clamp down instinct; biting his cheek to muffle wanton moans.

"How about you get more comfortable for me?"

At first he doesn't understand, grumbling when you take your hand away from his clothed cock. Pulling him upwards, you make a start with his buttons, helping slide the fabric off of his shoulders. He slips his slacks off, and then he's left in black boxers; it's band hanging dangerously low.

They're tented, sporting a wet patch of precum around the fat tip of his dick. And he is large, its outline clear under the thin fabric.

You wrap a hand around his waist, other hand tracing up to his chest.

"What about you, chula? "

You look up. Miguel looks down at you, eyes low, large hand splayed between your shoulder blades.

"You don't like what I'm wearing?" Doe eyed, you don't really expect him to take you seriously.

"N-No, no. " He's stuttering, now. "You look beautiful. Always do. I just… I want to see more ."

You click your tongue with faux disapproval. "Don't be selfish, baby. You wanted my attention, right?"

He nods, with the self-awareness to be hesitant at your tone.

"Then," You start, slipping a hand into his boxers. You wrap a dainty hand around his length; thick and slanted and weeping at the tip. "Learn to be grateful."

"Ayy-" He wraps around you, head bowed to dip into your shoulder.

You pump his cock, other hand around his neck; eyes sparkling as you force him to look to his side, at you.

"F-Fuck–" He's breathing heavily, mouth open into a pretty little O , and you clamp a hand down to his jaw.

"What do you want?"

"R-Rapido, mas rapido por favor -"

[Faster, faster, please-]

Surprisingly vocal, he loses it as you press your thumb onto his slit; flushed and pouring with precum. You rub his wetness along the length of his shaft, squeezing and turning your wrist as you get to his tip. He likes that; hips bucking to fuck into the ring you make with your hand.

You want to savour this moment: Miguel stripped down to his boxers, beautifully tanned skin pressed up against yours. And of course, that look on his face; a lusty haze, even stronger than the one you were under when high, all those nights ago.

His lashes flutter, and you watch as his core tenses; watching and waiting for just the right moment to… stop.

You pull away, and he chases it, bucking into thin air. You're pushing him back onto the bed, with a hand to his chest. Eyes blown , he leans back onto his forearms; unable to tear himself away. There's a certain glow about you, a glint in your eye, one that takes his breath away. Something smug , a little smile as you drag a black thong down your pretty thighs. It's long forgotten when you chuck it onto the bed; Miguel still can't get over the sight of legs and a flash of your cunt, committing it to memory.

Sidling up to his chest, you kick a leg over and seat yourself onto his lap. Flush against the fabric, you settle onto your knees. The look in Miguel's eyes almost bowls you over; stunning and windswept, as he runs a hand over your thigh. Eyes wide at the way the fabric pools around your body: the swell of tits cupped by silk, how good it looks against your skin.

He's staring at where you meet, that spot between your thighs when it happens; when you guide his hand to the apex of your pussy. His thumb slots against your clit like it belongs there, rough pads applying just the right amount of pressure.

"Oh f-fuuuck," You sigh into it, pressing your tits to his chest in a way that makes him hump into the pocket left by your body and the smooth fabric of your dress.

Even in his haze, Miguel is hyperfocused on your pleasure, obsessed with the noises he can pull from you. With a big hand on your waist, he pulls you closer to slot you against his front. It's your turn to moan, the prettiest thing he thinks he's ever heard, slipping his cock between your lower lips with a swirling intensity.

You're drunk with the pleasure, hands on his shoulders to angle him towards your clit. He thinks you look like an angel, head tilted back to expose the expanse of your neck. Bringing his teeth to that slight vein, he's a killer; sucking rough hickeys to the skin.

"M'close, fuck –"

"Damelo, hermosa, " He places two palms at the globes of your ass, squeezing and pressing into you even closer.

[Give it to me, beautiful.]

"Miguel…shit–b-baby, think I'm–"

You cum, gushing and clamping down around nothing. Miguel is more interested in the way you transform ; fine lines and deep furrows of your face softening, the pure bliss written into the gentle arch of your body. He did that. It makes his chest warm, it makes his cock swell; and with the feeling of slipping through your pretty folds, he gets so, so close to that biting edge.

You stop, slipping off of his lap and he whines at the loss of you. Tugging down your dress, you make your way out of the room and he's reeling , clutching at your arm so you don't leave.

"Chula ," He's babbling, tucked back into his boxers, but on his knees for you. "I'm sorry, please. Do you want me to beg? Because I will , baby, I w–"

Helping him up, you give him a little smile that he's too pussy-drunk to realise its true nature. Dangerous, you cup his face with both hands, brows pressed together and large, sparkling eyes. Not quite sympathy, but it's enough to make him think you'll wrap a hand around his cock out of pity, press those pretty tits against him and–

On your tiptoes, you give him a chaste kiss between his brows. You flash him a stunning smile, bottom lip hooked under your teeth.

"Goodnight , Miguel."

And then you're out the door, down the little hallway and into your bedroom. Miguel runs a shaky hand through his hair, unsure whether to laugh or cry. And he knows, still rock hard, body burning with the memory of you: he's fucked.

~~~

When morning comes, Miguel wrenches open his eyes, bloodshot and sore. He feels like shit , barely able to sit up without feeling like his chest will collapse.

It feels like he was ran over in a headfirst collision; and he was, essentially, wincing at the memory of that fight. He can feel strike one and two; between his ribs, to the side of his navel; but the real knockout punch was you – a deadly, calculated assault that he almost hates you for.

Almost.

He came harder than he has in months last night; bent over his cock, pumping shakily. It had only taken a couple of rough tugs until he spilled all over himself; embarrassingly quick. He lasted longer the second time, unable to help himself.

In his defence, the black thong you had slipped off was right there ; rumpled amongst the sheets. He had pressed it to his nose and then wrapped them around his shaft; eyes closed as he imagined being buried in your plush pussy. All his fantasies; quickies in the shower spent jerking off to the thought of you, where he'd hold onto the feeling of brushing past you in the kitchen, or little touches on the couch. You've surpassed them, well and truly.

Now, he stumbles into the shower, stripping on the tiles. Inspecting himself in the mirror, he pokes at flesh; purple bruises stretching over brown and tan muscle. Turning around and craning his head, he follows them all the way to his back and then… oh. He can see them: scratchy-sharp lines, spanning the width of his shoulder blades. You did that, he thinks.

Fuck . He's hard again, sighing heavily as he clambers into the shower. It sputters to life, ice cold, but he grits his teeth and takes it , trying to free his mind of cotton and cobwebs. As the water warms up, he presses both hands flat on the tile, head down and eyes closed. The water washes over him, down his back, and like a flash of lightning he's imagining you pressed up against him, bent in half over his cock. He'd press a thumb to your clit, slamming into your ass; fucking you hard, like you deserve. You'd like that , he thinks, from what he's heard of you in your room, the filth that spills from your mouth and to his side of the wall.

"Miguel?" It's a little muffled over the shower, but you get closer to the door.

"Yes?" He shouts over the rush of water. He shouldn't . He really shouldn't.

"You've got a call!"

He hums. With the way you say his name he caves, making a tight ring around his length.

"It's Lyla, and-" Something clatters. " Fuck , sorry."

Your voice is breathy, little groans as you pick up whatever's dropped to the floor. Miguel feels like a perv, turning the water pressure down to listen to your voice properly. All the while, he keeps a steady pace on his cock.

"Should I just let it ring? Keep it going?"

Keep going is what he hears, and then he speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him. What would it would it take to have you babbling and begging for more? How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length.

"Miguel?"

Or maybe you'd be on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God , thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

H-Harder, please–

That's how you would ask him, clawing at his back, and he'd capture those pleas in a searing kiss.

"–Miguel!"

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes onto the tiles. He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool tile.

"Just take a message," He strains, panting as you say something in response. He doesn't quite catch it, of course, too busy reeling from the aftershock.

The shower croaks and gurgles, spluttering to a stop. He listens as your footsteps recede beyond the door, moving away.

Shit. It's going to be a long day.

~~~

You sleep like a baby. Lulled into blissful sleep, after practically floating into bed. That orgasm does wonders; and you sleep better than you have in months. You dream of cotton candy clouds, flowing green grass, and tanned, muscled men on their knees; in the kind of sleep that wraps around you like a blanket.��

Surprisingly fresh in the morning, you wake up before Miguel does. You're milling about the hallway when he barrels into the bathroom, and on the couch when he leaves.

"Mig?" You poke your head towards the door, and he almost jumps half a foot into the air.

Eyes wide, and he can barely manage a weak smile.

"Lyla called."

"Yeah, you…" He sighs, clutching the towel slung around his waist a little tighter. "You mentioned it."

In the light of the morning, you're able to assess him a lot better. To put it plainly, he looks rough ; blinking at you oddly, shifting when you come closer. You don't touch him, Miguel seems much too antsy for that, but you get closer to inspect the bruises that bloom across his side. It looks even worse than yesterday, purple and blue across taut muscle. You reach for it and he flinches, so you pull away.

"...you okay?"

" Yep. " He grits it through a plasticky smile; and the fact that it reaches his eyes is a red flag in of itself for the usual grump.

The side-eye you respond with isn't quite enough to chip at it, so he continues.

"M'just fine."

" O–kay . Lyla said something about a debrief , earlier."

"At the usual place?"

"...uhhh. She said at HQ? In about an hour."

"Okay… okay. Nonono, that's fine… okay." He's muttering to himself and about to turn around when something catches his eye. Your lips; pretty gloss and freshly done. In fact, you're fully dressed to go out; in a display that has him confused.

You answer the question he posits with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"She invited me, Mig."

His eyebrows shoot up. "Of c.. of course she did."

Distracted and haphazard, Miguel gets dressed; squeezing into the car with a flask of coffee to-go. It scares you; the way he barely flinches while taking sips of the bitter liquid you know must be piping hot. He's acting weird, even weirder than usual; but you let it wash over you and move on.

Eventually, you pull up to HQ ; a shitty dive bar that is inexplicably serving breakfast and other miscellaneous items at 12pm. At least, that's what it looks like, arriving to see one overcrowded table and a sea of pancakes and coffee. Jess sports a croissant and orange juice, whilst Peter scoffs down a burger almost as big as his face.

"Miguel!" He says it with a mouthful of pickles, beef and patty, slapping the man in question heartily on the back.

He winces, batting Peter away before sliding into the seat next to you. For barely a second, your legs brush together and he's shifting away. Okay. That's… odd.

You're sifting through menus when you glance over to the counter and you see her : a pretty woman of about 25, tucking red hair away behind her ear. Your heart stops, and then you're tapping Miguel.

" Look, " You hiss quietly, nodding towards the counter. " Isn't that…? "

June McGinnity, the premier main character in the hit tv soap, And Everyday Before The Last; The Final Season. It's the very same show you've been bingeing for the past 6 months. 18 seasons, 3 spinoffs, and a revival currently in the works; you're obsessed with the show that's gotten you through your last breakup – and the one before that, and a couple of rocky moments with your parents.

She's been a staple for the last couple of seasons, quickly skyrocketing to popularity in her minor role, and now , in The Final Season, she's got her well-deserved spot as a season regular. June is tenacious, smart, absolutely hilarious, and–

" –she's coming over here . Shit, Miggy, she's coming over," You whisper to him and for the first time this morning; he smiles, wide and genuine. It takes you back; not just because he looks so pretty when he smiles, but because you have no idea what's so funny.

June slips into the seat besides Peter, and your eyes almost fall out of their sockets. She gives him a kiss on the cheek , as Peter brushes away blunt bangs. Frantic, you turn to Miguel, who's trying not to piss himself laughing.

He's borderline howling, and you put a hand around his arm to get him to keep quiet – to stop embarrassing you in front of June – but he's too busy wiping away tears.

Peter turns to the scene, clearly confused. He says something to June, and then he's turning to you, saying your name.

"Hey, I don't think I've introduced you to– Miguel, please shut the fuck up– this is–"

"MJ." She smiles, brilliant and sparkling, with her hand outstretched and you think you might pass out.

"I'm–" You're stumbling over your words, grasping her hand before you can overthink it. Maybe it comes off as overzealous, but you're desperately trying to shut out Miguel's laughing. "I'm a massive fan, you're so incredibly talented ; as June – I always cry at that one scene when you meet your long-lost sister... a-and when you find out that Jackie is actually your Mom, I swear, I get chills–"

The man besides you splutters, hunched over and gripping onto the table for support. It's getting egregious, now, and you make it known as best you can with a dirty look.

"I'm, oh fuck, no… I'm done, I promise." He clamps down a smile, hands up in surrender.

"Was that… too much?" You gain some semblance of perspective, and then you're falling over yourself to apologise. " Shit , I'm really, really sor–"

" – No, no. You're good, it's nice to get recognised for that show! Most of the demographic is old people and pensioners, honestly. Not a lot of IRL interaction with fans, if you know what I mean." She flashes you that smile, again, and you melt. She turns to the man beside you. "Don't be a dick, Miguel."

"Yeah, Miguel." Peter continues to inhale what you think is his second burger, wagging a sauce covered finger. "What she said."

Miguel rolls his eyes so hard you think they might rattle about in his skull, and you give him a rough shove for good measure. Down the other side of the table, you spot Lyla; downing a brightly coloured drink and massaging her temples.

"Shit , Lyla. You want to slow it down?" Jess says, and then her eyes are flicking over to yours. She does a double take, giving you a wide smile. " Hey , y'all! When did you get here?"

"Not long!" You call back, and she gives you a thumbs up in response. Lyla coughs beside her, sporting a nasty grimace; and then she's up and looking around the table, as if taking a headcount. At least, you think she does, as it's hard to see her eyes between pink tinted shades. They slip down her nose and she brings a fork to the empty glass; silencing the rabble.

"M-Morning…" She stills, hand on her chest like she's got heartburn; throat bobbing as she gags slightly. "Morning, everyone. First off, hope you all feel as shitty as I do."

And then there's cheers and good-natured elbowing, especially towards Ben and Miguel. Apparently , if you're to believe the whispers and rumour mill; Ben took to bar-hopping across town, ending the night without a shoe and someone else's shirt. He gives a rueful smile, holding up a mug to scattered laughter. And Miguel… well, he's Miguel , sitting back in his seat with folded arms.

"Second," She pauses, for dramatic effect. "Someone's volunteered to pay for the next round of food to apologise for last night… everyone say Thank you, Miguel."

She starts a limp round of applause with a flourish, and sits down. There's only about a dozen people there: most you recognise, and some you don't. There was no attempt to explain what exactly a debrief was; so you're left disorientated in the mash of voices. Miguel picks at waffles besides you, in his own world. Without a word, you get up, making your way towards neon bathroom signs in the corner.

It's some peace and quiet, a moment to think as you look at your reflection in the mirror. You look lighter , as if a weight was lifted off of your shoulders last night. Your skin looks a little brighter, eyes sharper and even your hair falls differently, today. You feel good, and it seems to translate to the person looking back it you. Wow. You're practically–

" -glowing. Shit , you look good." Lyla calls out from behind you, entering the little bathroom with Jess.

Jess gives you a warm hug, and Lyla follows before pushing up heart shaped glasses.

" Damn, girl." Jess gives a low whistle, hands on her shoulders to turn you this way and that.

They make you giggle, with a warmth that blooms at your chest.

"Was it that cute guy from last night?"

Lyla interrupts. " Jun! Did he send you a little something after you got home?"

"Did you ditch Miguel to get some?"

"God, did you invite Jun over? "

Jess gasps, before quickly adding. "No judgement, of course. Once upon a time, we probably would've done the same thing."

It's a back and forth that gives you whiplash, dodging fastballs that get hit into the tiles. Not trusting yourself to speak, you shake your head, demurely.

"...are you telling us you didn't have sex last night? Because that glow says something different."

You clamp down any words that might give you away, but Jess' sharp eyes latch onto the cracks: a little smile tugging at the sides of your lips.

"So not Jun … but someone else? Last night…? "

The penny drops and then she's grabbing at you and Lyla. When realisation hits the mousy brunette to your side, she's flinging off pink shades to look you in the eye.

"You fucked Miguel?"

"No!" You're hissing, trying to calm raucous behaviour. "Technically, not… yet."

"Not yet? " Lyla repeats, astonished. "I mean, I thought you two were already–"

"It makes sense! Could've sworn I saw his knees shakin' today…"

"Okay, okay…" You're laughing, finally understanding the magnitude of the grenade you've just lobbed at them. "It wasn't like that . It's not a thing."

"...do you want it to be a thing?"

You tilt your head, pretending to think on it. Yes , you want to ride him till something breaks; but Miguel is a walking red flag. You know, deep down, nothing good can come out of it.

"Don't… don't say it like that."

"Look, Ly, she wants it to be a thing. "

" Definitely. It's basically already a thing ." Lyla concurs, nodding firmly.

"Fuck you guys." It's not said with spite, leaving your mouth with a smile.

"Oh, no. You like 'em tall, and tan, and a little grumpy. You mean: Fuck me, Miguel. "

You're swatting her away, whilst Jess is doubled over in laughter; hand on the ceramic to steady herself. They're good fun; raucous and boisterous and making you feel welcome, when you know they really don't have to.

The laughter dies down, and they're leading you out of the bathroom to their side of the table, chattering away. Jess digs into another pancake, rock hard, and all of a sudden you're telling her about the waffles at Pam's Diner, and all the interesting characters you've met there. Lyla nurses another sweet cocktail, chattering on about a pre-game she's got in a couple of hours; and then you're exchanging stories about hangovers and missed lectures.

From their conversation, you slowly learn what a debrief entails: the remnants of a tradition they'd started when 19 and spotty. All of them, friends of friends, roommates, classmates; growing to know each other in the dinky bar across the street from their dorms. Tending to hangovers in the morning from an all night rager, or pre-gaming before the biggest events of the year: it's something that trickled down to every so often later in their adulthoods. It's something else Miguel started, surprising you yet again.

So absorbed in their heart-to-heart, time flies by; and late breakfast turns to brunch. You're exchanging phone numbers, and left smiling from lots of little tete-a-tetes, before Miguel tries to drag you to the car. One last goodbye had turned into two, which had turned into four; and then he's grumbling alone in the car for a dire couple of minutes.

You open the door, glowing. Your mood dampens immediately as you sit down; soured by Miguel's own swirling dark cloud. He seems worse than before, somehow. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, the air thick with something. Where you would've bit your tongue before, pushed down difficult-to-say words, now, you find a surge of confidence.

"Miguel," You start, and he turns; key still in the ignition.

You look around at the parking lot, mostly empty, except for you two.

"Can we talk?"

"...sure." His tone seems anything but sure; which feels like a first, for him.

"About last night."

"Oh." And then he's gone again, eyes flicking around the cab of the car. All of a sudden the mirror needs fixing, and he's fiddling with some buttons on the dash.

You place a hand on his to still him. He doesn't flinch.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He shrugs. You don't believe him.

"Did you like it?"

He pauses, chewing his lip. " Yes ."

You believe that .

"Good." You hum. "I liked it. But you made me feel like shit, too."

He softens. "I did?"

"You did. You only wanted me after you saw me with someone else. After I kissed Jun."

You wait to see if he admits it, and his hand curls into a fist, tight. His grip relaxes, and then his voice comes out in a whisper.

"Y-Yeah… I was jealous." He seems remorseful, at least.

You sigh. "I don't want a relationship with you, or anything. But it made me feel like… an object. A conquest, another notch on your belt because you only want me when you can't have me. It made me feel shitty, Miguel."

"I fucked up," He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Wasn't really thinking, chula. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Miguel. I like fucking around with you." You say it with a small smile. "I want… more ."

"Me too." He's smiling back, shy, brushing against you with fingers stretched out.

"That's fine, more than fine. We can do this because I make you feel good, and you make me feel good, and somehow… this works . But we need to keep this," Gently, you push away his hand, gesturing between you both. "...and us separate. My heart can't take the possibility of this blowing up. And… And it's probably going to be me; 'cuz I seem to like getting my heart broken."

You give a watery laugh, but he doesn't laugh with you; instead, boring into your soul with red-brown eyes.

"If we're going to do this, it means I can't kiss you, properly ; it means no cuddling after sex, or staying the night in your bed." It's why you couldn't kiss him before, and you hope he understands. "You can say no… you probably should say no. But that's what I want, right now. And those are my terms."

It takes a moment before he respond, mulling it over, and you barely breath in the interim.

"I want you ." He nods slowly, and then more firmly as he turns the key in the ignition. The engine rumbles to life, as Miguel turns to you with as best a smile he can manage. Lip cut, hair smattered across his forehead, and thick brows softening; he says, firmly, " Yeah, I'd like that."

Miguel taglist: @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 #rigor mortis 😼#kat_writes😼#spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut

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cherry-leclerc · 3 months

Text

back to you ☆ cs55

genre: fluff, oldmoney!reader, strangers to lovers

word count: 3.1k

Fixated from the moment he first saw you, Carlos stays missing someone whom he never even properly met. But that all seems to change one night when you unexpectedly show up to a business dinner.

req!... i'm such a liar lmaooo (iykyk). hope you enjoy, my lil anons :) hope this heals some of the heartbreak we all endured today !!(*bashes head against keyboard*)

It almost seemed like you had something up your sleeve, a tactic to retrieve all of his attention away from the camera shoved right in front of him - media duties.

“Hello guys, just wanted to come on here to say that I think we gave it all we could during today’s race but there is definitely always room for improvement…” Blah, blah, blah.

He can’t quite figure out what he’s saying because his brown eyes are attached to the pretty girl walking right in front of him. Not behind him, trying to catch up. Not besides him, begging for a photo. Nope, right in front of him as if you could care less that you have one of the most popular drivers to ever exist almost chasing after you.

He could hear you mumbling about God knows what to the girl walking besides you. The Spaniard feels like a total creep when it comes to him becoming more alert to possibly catch your name. As you were saying? The media team manager stares back expectantly once Carlos blanks out. Though it wasn’t that unusual.

The 29 year old flickers his gaze back to the camera and then back to where you were, only except, you’re gone. Out of sight and his heart stops for a nanosecond.

“Onto the next week. Vamos.”

“So then, you have your upcoming shoot for the new fireproofs, testing, stimulator - if we have time, interview at…”

Carlos tunes out as he blinks at the never ending list as if it were just another Monday. Charles nods attentively, though he also looks far too uninterested. They were exhausted.

“And dinner tonight to meet our new sponsors.”

“Another one?” Charles asks, a slight crack in voice as he tries to pretend he wasn’t at all annoyed. “We just had one last night.”

Maria musters up a stern look. “Yes, again. They’re a lovely family, so we want to impress them with two well-behaved drivers.” The Ferrari boys swallow their laughter as they nod their heads. Got it.

It takes all of Carlos’ remaining willpower to get ready for dinner that night. On the way to the small Italian restaurant, he second guesses even showing up. He could fake a fever. A sore throat. Shaking his head, he curses as he steps out of his custom Ferrari.

“Oh good, I thought it was just going to be me,” Charles jokes as soon as he spots the Spaniard. Carlos chuckles before greeting the team. About 10 minutes go by before the Monegasque grows impatient as a child. I could have finished watching my movie.

“Shut up,” Fred murmurs before abruptly standing up from his seat. “Ah! È così bello rivedere finalmente te e la tua famiglia!” Choking on his champagne, Charles scrunches his nose before flying up and introducing himself. Carlos bites back a smile as he follows his lead.

And there he sees you, standing elegantly with a silk dress that looks as soft as your skin. You’re smiling sweetly at everyone, stepping in to not just shake their hands, but also go in for a small hug. Your mother and father repeat the same action, though they later focus all of their attention on Fred and Maria.

The Monegasque kicks his teammate’s shin. Carlos winces as he shoots fiery daggers. “We hit the jackpot.”

“What?”

Charles' shoulders drop theatrically. “Are you kidding me? Are we looking at the same girl right now or are you just blind?”

But he did see you, and he never quite forgot about you since that day. He could feel the tips of his ear burn bright red as you made your way over to him and his teammate. Charles, so nice to meet you, the green eyed boy beams before going in for a hug. You smile from ear to ear.

“Nice to meet you, too! I must admit; I’m a little starstruck right now.” Charles blushes fast as he stutters his way around such a compliment, even if he’s received thousands of the same one before. “Ah, this is Carlos.”

“Hello,” he feels himself saying. “Carlos, nice to meet you.” As soon as you look up at him, his breath hitches and fears you might feel his sweaty palms flourishing against your soft ones. And if you do, you choose to ignore it as you share a small smile, the kind you share when you see someone after 15 years.

The kind that seems forced.

“Ditto.”

With one last glance, you excuse yourself before making your way over to where your parents and Fred chatter about upcoming plans. Carlos blinks. “Wow. No hug,” Charles points out. “That’s weird. She was basically giving them out for free.”

“Be quiet.”

The remainder of the night you kept to yourself, occasionally inputting your own opinion with a polite smile drawn onto your fruit punch lips. Very well mannered, Fred would approve as you would bow your head with shyness. Carlos quirked a brow of curiosity.

He wondered what he might’ve done wrong. Had he been too forward? Cold? Often, his parents would claim he could be like that sometimes, so maybe? He wasn’t clinging onto the fact that he was the only one who didn’t receive a warm greeting from you, but he was left with questions.

“E tu, tesoro?”

“What about me?” you repeat, hair fanning along your face like a shiny curtain. Maria chuckles. How do you feel about being a part of this new chapter? You think about it for a second before settling with the safest answer. “Very proud, there’s nothing better than tying links with such a superior team.” Fred roars with genuine laughter as he pats your father’s shoulder. Smart girl.

“Why fine jewelry?”

“Pardon?”

The inquiry was directed towards your parents - who would clearly have the answer - but his eyes were trained on you, leaving you to fend for yourself. Lips part slowly as you connect with Carlos’ intense attention. “I’m curious, that’s all. I’m delighted we have you as our sponsors, but I was just wondering what made you dive into the business? Must be hard.”

Squinting your eyes, you click your tongue. It’s in our blood, your father’s voice cuts your train of thought. It’s what we do, what we love. But his warm gaze sticks to you like hot glue. You clear your throat before returning to your wide smile.

“I think it’s safe to say that diamonds are beautiful. They are scarily so crystal clear that for a moment one might search for a trace of color. And then they do come in other colors, so it’s really no problem,” you say, soft chuckles circling the table. “But I believe it’s also safe to say that we don’t often think about how they got here, shining around many ring fingers.” Your mother approves as she shows her mind-blowing diamond cut.

“Miners are the answer. They work hard - get their hands dirty - because they know that while it may not be easy to find such precious things…” His eyes roam your lips before dancing back up to your orbs. “It’s very well worth it.” Taking a sip from your glass of wine, you raise a brow. “That’s why.”

“It doesn’t even feel that tough to wear these pieces,” Charles squeaks as he slips on a white gold bracelet around his wrist. “They’re breathtaking.”

Clapping, you squeal at his words. For a moment, Carlos thinks about punching his teammate for getting to see your good side. They’re great, thank you again. You just tip your head towards him to confirm you heard, and slide away. Carlos sighs.

“This is ridiculous. She can’t even look at me.” The Spaniard bites his cheek. “Do you think she hates me?”

“For doing what?” Charles asks, face pinched with confusion. Carlos huffs, arms flying up.

“I have no idea!”

“Well…I don’t think so, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?”

“No.” He groans. “Can you picture how awkward that would be? There’s no way.”

“Suit yourself.”

Pouting, the brown eyed boy zigzags his way into the studio, mentally preparing himself for hours of blinding lights. “Buongiorno, Carlos!” Spotting your father with his arms wrapped around his wife, he walks over with a tired smile. How are you guys? “We’re fine, son, thank you for asking. Tell me, are you excited for this weekend?” He instantly stands up straighter.

“I am. The Tifosi are always great to be around. Gets hectic, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I can imagine. My wife and daughter are always amped up when it’s finally Monza’s turn.” He hums, almost as if he’s reminiscing. “Tell you, my baby would beg for us to take her to cheer on her favorite drivers. It’s kind of a full circle moment so don’t mind if my wife gets emotional.”

“Stop,” your mother sniffles as she shares a grimace. Told you, your father mouths. Carlos laughs.

“I completely get it, it must mean a lot to all three of you. Maybe that’s what makes this partnership work all the more.” Your fathers winks, large fingers wagging over at the Spaniard. Working over time. I respect it.

“I see why my daughter likes you.”

Carlos halts. “Sorry?”

The older man pants, seeming comedically defeated. “Are you kidding me? She adores you! You've been her favorite driver since you joined Formula 1.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Her love towards the sport had a huge impact on us to join as sponsors, but to be fair, we probably still would have done it. Like I said, it holds a special place in our hearts.”

“Buongiorno,” your soft voice echoes, skipping happily to greet the Ferrari team. Everyone’s energy quickly picks up as you flow with such easiness, skirt wrapping around your waist, making you seem like the only flower in an empty garden. Talk to you in a bit, you cheer as you make your way up to your parents. You stop dead in your tracks as soon as you spot the grumpy brunette. Like always, he can physically see you create a wall around yourself, keeping you from him. He felt like the Beast drooling over the rose inside the glass. “Good morning, Carlos. Logo looks good,” you hum, dark red pedicure pointing at your last name printed onto his fireproof. “Can’t wait to see how it looks on Charles.”

His jaw ticks. “Why don’t I call him then?”

“That would be lovely.”

He’s jealous. Of course he fucking is. He might have found out your whole act is a facade but that didn’t stop him from feeling this way. He could have been your favorite at one point, but what about now? It sure as hell didn’t seem like it.

“She wants to see you.”

The Monegasque furrows his brows. Who? But as soon as he notices his teammates' sour face, he registers the reason for his bad mood. “Stop pouting. You look like you just sucked on a lemon.” Carlos shoots a deadpan expression. “This has gone too far. It’s obviously bothering you.”

“What? You nagging?”

“Okay, ouch.” The green eyed boy takes a small step towards the Spaniard. “You don’t like it that she’s ignoring you because you like her.”

Carlos jumps off the couch. “I do not!” Charles hums.

“Oh shit, good, then I could ask her out.” He beams. “I wouldn’t want things to get weird between us.” Carlos' heart almost jumps out of his chest as he grows nauseous at the thought of you saying yes. He continues. “I’m telling you; I have a good feeling.” The brown eyed boy clenches his jaw. “It’s like this - I could see myself marrying her, having a baby heiress-”

“Okay fine, I like her!” He pants. “She drives me so fucking crazy. Whether she looks my way or not, she makes my head spin. Ever since I saw her at the Canada GP, she’s been imprinted into my brain like a lecture I’ve been told over and over, time and time again. It makes me sick that she seems to almost get sad when she’s around me. The way she can never look at me the way I’ve always looked at her. And I’m…” He looks down at his race boots. “I’m too afraid of ruining something that I don’t even have a chance at.”

The Monegasque pats him on the shoulder, lips stretched out into a teasing smirk. “Now, was it that hard to admit your feelings?”

It was that hard to admit his feelings. He thought about it for the first time since he met you. Confess everything that’s been locked away deep inside of him; claim his feelings like some kind of gold medal. But then he saw you radiating pure perfection and he would turn the other way. You hated him, he’s sure.

“Alright Carlos, push, now push.”

He could taste it - sweet victory that he badly craved. If he played his cards right then he could get second place, which was pretty good in comparison to past results.

The Spaniard tries to not feel too upset about coming in third and waves up at the Tifosi who let out blood curdling screams. Pride rushes through his veins as he walks onto the podium, he didn’t even mind all the attention. Especially the kind you were gifting him with.

The way you smile so big that your perfect teeth shine up at him, eyes crinkling like a love letter. Cheekbones slightly pink from cheering so loud but also from the bright sun. He swore he was on some kind of drug.

Making his way back into the motorhome after all the interviews, he bumps into you and your parents. “Like it?” he asks as he displays his trophy.

“Definitely,” your father beams. “You deserve it, son, enjoy it.” After a few more affirmations, he and your mother walk away. Brown orbs find your own.

“Have fun?” He tries to ease his deep voice, to appear more outgoing, to not scare you away. And yet, you nod, looking down.

“He’s right. You totally deserve it.” And for what seems like the first time, you bless him with your warm stare. “Felicidades, Carlos.” Pink paints his cheeks. You speak Spanish? Your eyes grow wide as you feverishly shake your head. “I-I- I don’t, but I’ve picked up on a few things here and there…”

“From me.” He tilts his head. “You actually pay attention to me.”

You can’t help stutter like a broken record. “Of course-e, I ha-ave ears.” You show them off like a weak justification. “See?” you squeak. Playing with the hem of your dress - that had him swallowing a string of moans the moment you walked into the garage that morning - you slowly started backing away. “I should go now…” You point towards the sliding doors. “See you later?”

But he knew there would be no later. Fuck, this was the most you’ve spoken to him since, well, ever. He wouldn’t let that slip away so easily. Even if his heart got bruised along the way.

“Did I do something for you to hate me?”

Your brows narrow like a little kid. “You think I hate you?”

“It’s okay if you do, I suppose, but I’m just lost as to where that happened? Did I-”

“I don’t hate you,” you softly speak up, eyes shut in disbelief that you’ve made him feel that way. You blink back at him. “I promise you, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Okay, he confirms.

“Why can’t you talk to me then like you do with everybody else? Why can’t you even spare me a passing glance?”

His voice sounds desperate now, he knows it, but he was desperate. Now you were embarrassed that he continues to bring up more and more of your poor behavior - but it was never intentional. You twirl a strand of your hair before releasing it.

“You intimidate me.”

The Spaniard squeezed his fist around the trophy. For a moment, he thought he would dent the steel. Your stomach drops at the sight and he feels guilty for proving you right. He lets out a shaky breath.

“I’m not a bad guy, y’know? I’m sure it may seem like it, but…” He licks his lips. “I’m not.”

Doe eyes flutter like butterfly wings. “I believe you, Carlos.”

“Good. Now, would you please tell me why you always escape when I’m around?” You softly curse as you pinch your hand for a second.

“I wasn’t lying; you do intimidate me. But not in the way you might think.” Like an angel, you make your way closer. “You’re my favorite driver, you know that?” The Spaniard’s brown eyes grow wide. You laugh. “Ever since you-”

“Joined Formula 1.”

Your jaw drops. “My father ratted me out?” Panicking, you pace the room back and forth. You could only look at him for a couple of seconds before planting your stare at anywhere else that isn’t him. “I told him not to say anything! Oh God.” You let out a maniatic chuckle. “I swear it’s just a tiny crush, it’s not even that deep - I’ll get over it!”

Now it’s his turn to geek out. “You have a crush on me?” Crap, you groan, biting down on your nail. He didn’t mention that part, did he? Brown strands of hair shake back and forth as you sigh.

“Forget I said anything, I am so sorry for making things awkward-”

“I’ve seen you before.” What? The 29 year old winces. “At the Canada GP. You were walking with a friend.” Synthia, you whisper to yourself. “I was being filmed for feedback on the race and you were about 5 steps in front of me.” You counted? “I said about - and for months, you were all I could think about. You sort of stuck to me like a nostalgic scent. I don’t know why I felt the need to talk to you, I mean, it’s never happened to me before. I looked away for a second and you were gone.” He shares a lopsided smile. “Then I saw you again.”

“And I blocked you out.” You bite your lip. “Shit, Carlos…I had no idea you felt this way.” He shrugs.

“It’s my fault. I never told you.” Still, you try to reason but he only brushes you off. “It’s not your fault.”

“But it is,” you whimper. “I acted like a complete snob and belittled you.” Your heart breaks at the image. “And you’re telling me it’s been mutual all along?”

“Looks like it. This is good though.” How? The brunette winks as he pulls you in. “Because now we do know and I can take you out sometime?” You quirk a brow.

“It works just like that?”

He hums, comfortable with the two trophies pressed up against him. “Only if you want it to be like that.” You can practically hear your crazy heartbeat with the way he’s looking down at you - as if he’s just discovered a previously nonexisting star. With soft hands pressed onto his suit, your eyes twinkle.

“Just like that, then.”

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