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thatsonemorbidcorvid · 3 days

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“Every year, about 25,000 (UK) women who give birth — approximately 4 per cent — are so distressed that they meet the diagnostic criteria for post-traumatic stress disorder. That makes birth one of the biggest causes of PTSD in the UK according to the Birth Trauma Association charity – probably coming second only to sexual abuse and rape. Hundreds of thousands more women are traumatised. This is a major health crisis. And yet it is barely discussed…

According to figures from NHS Resolution, the arm of the Department of Health and Social Care that handles litigation, 62 per cent of the total clinical negligence cost of harm in 2022-23 (£6.6 billion) related to maternity.”

When my husband and I left for hospital on a Friday afternoon, we had no idea what would happen. The next few hours would change my life. For good and bad. It had all started with a cervical sweep the day before. I was 40 weeks and 4 days pregnant and, frankly, I’d had enough. My pregnancy had been uncomplicated in terms of my baby — she was healthy throughout, albeit had spent much of her time in the back-to-back position. But I had found the nine months increasingly difficult. From around 20 weeks I’d suffered from pelvic girdle pain, which, for me, meant increasingly agonising pain in my lower back. Walking and other everyday movements became difficult. The only place I felt vaguely comfortable was in water. Swimming was a relief.

Women are offered a sweep to help induce labour. A midwife inserts their finger and sweeps around your cervix. It’s about as basic as you can get. They’re trying to separate the membranes of the amniotic sac that surround the baby from your cervix. This then releases hormones, which may help start your labour. “Some women find the procedure uncomfortable or painful,” NHS guidelines say. I found it excruciating.

“Oh,” the midwife said, as I lay in a rather compromised position. “I might have broken your waters.” This didn’t make sense to me. I’d always assumed that when my waters broke, I’d know about it. Apparently not always, and I was instructed to call the hospital if contractions hadn’t begun within 24 hours as I was now potentially at risk of infection.

They didn’t start. And I did what I’d been asked. The voice on the phone was chirpy — everything sounded fine, stay at home, we’ll be seeing you soon enough. Half an hour later, my phone rang. “Where are you? You’re meant to be at the hospital,” the woman said angrily. I needed to come in immediately to be examined.

It was late Friday afternoon and it was busy. We took the last of the beds in maternity triage. And my waters broke in earnest. That solved the mystery, I suggested. No, I was told, and the water birth I’d hoped for was out of the question — too risky.

Strong and regular contractions started immediately. We were moved to a glorified cupboard that had been turned into a makeshift holding room. I was denied any pain relief because it was “too early”, and told that someone would bring me some paracetamol when they came to “examine” me.

It seems obvious when you think about it, but I had never been told what being “examined” meant. Nor thought about it. It sounds medical. But it’s literally a midwife sticking their fingers inside you. I was 3cm dilated. Plenty of time to go, apparently. It was 9.30pm. I felt sick and in enormous pain. Both were dismissed — until I vomited everywhere. And lost control of my bowels. This would happen several more times over the coming hours. I felt utterly ashamed. Again, it’s common — but I hadn’t been told.

I continued to ask for pain relief and continued to receive none. An hour later, I was 7cm dilated — in full labour — and finally received some paracetamol. There was no space on the labour ward. In just another half an hour, I was fully dilated and ready for the baby to come out. No one seemed to know what to do. The midwives were panicking. And that made me scared. This was my first baby. I didn’t know what to expect. We were rushed to the ward. Already, nothing had gone the way I wanted, or the way it had been talked about at National Childbirth Trust (NCT) classes. Eventually, I was given gas and air to ease the pain. But only for about 20 minutes. Apparently it was “distracting” me too much and I needed to push.

Two hours later there was still no baby and I was in agony. A doctor arrived, took a brief look and said cheerily, “You’re going to be fine. You’re going to get that baby out.” And then he left. My maternity notes state, “PLAN: continue pushing.” I have no idea what this refers to — like so many of my notes. There was no plan. If there was, it wasn’t one I had agreed to. Finally, after another hour the decision was made that the doctor would use a ventouse — a suction cup that sits on your baby’s head — to help deliver my baby. Apparently I consented to this, but I have no recollection of doing so. And I’m ashamed to say I didn’t know what was being asked of me. My doctor didn’t use the word ventouse. He used “Kiwi”, which is a type of ventouse. At the time, I didn’t know what either were.

I remember screaming in pain and then my daughter finally being born. She was placed on my chest for less than a minute. I was examined, told I had a fourth-degree tear that must be repaired and that I needed to sign a consent form for surgery straight away. “Look at the state of her,” my usually mild-mannered husband said. “How can she possibly sign a form?” I couldn’t. The writing on that form is barely legible, but they would not proceed without it.

I had no idea what had happened. I lay in an operating theatre in pain, silent tears rolling down my face. I was frightened. The anaesthetist was amazing and stayed with me while I was repaired. I am so grateful for that, at least. But I also feel guilty about it. It was half past three on a Saturday morning and she was the only anaesthetist on duty at the London hospital. Other women may well not have received the pain relief they needed because of me. “Will I be able to have any more children?” I asked as I stared at the ceiling.

After surgery I was moved to the high dependency unit (HDU) and reunited with my daughter. I finally held and fed her for the first time. That morning is a blur. My notes tell me we stayed in the HDU for five hours before being moved to a ward. It was there that I attempted to understand what had happened to me. I was in pain, barely able to move and soaked in blood. I asked various midwives to explain what had gone on. They repeated that I’d had a fourth-degree tear, but I didn’t know what that meant. One line, in scribbled handwriting, stands out when I look at my notes: “We don’t have any written info about fourth-degree tears.”

Eventually, a midwife appeared with some information they’d printed off after googling it. As I read it, I sobbed. I was 35 years old and thought my life was over; that I would be incontinent. And still no doctor came to explain. The medic who’d delivered my daughter was eventually marched to my bedside more than 48 hours later.

I am perhaps unusual in that I’ve always wanted children. We had done what many middle-class suburban couples did at that time and attended NCT classes. The underlying message of these was: try to avoid a caesarean section at all costs. “Natural” births were best, and even better just to breathe through it. No need for pain relief. I remember in our penultimate class bringing up the subject of tearing during labour. I had seen a TV feature on it that week and it struck me as important. “If most of us are going to tear to some degree, it would be really helpful to talk about that,” I remember saying. “It would be good to know how best to care for ourselves afterwards, that kind of thing.” The answer was no, there was no need. Instead, we proceeded to get on all fours and “moo” like cows and then practise putting nappies on a doll.

Up to nine in ten first-time mothers who have a vaginal birth will experience some sort of tear. The least invasive kind involves only the skin from the vagina and the perineum — the area between a woman’s vagina and anus. These tears usually heal quickly and without any treatment. Second-degree tears involve the muscle of the perineum and require stitches. Third and fourth-degree tears are the most serious. These involve not just tearing of the skin and muscle of the perineum but the muscle of the anus. In fourth-degree tears, the injury can extend into the lining of the bowel. These deeper tears need proper surgical repair under anaesthetic.

I don’t really have any happy memories of the first few days or weeks after we left the hospital. I was completely in love with my baby, but I felt shellshocked. I couldn’t process what had happened and there was no one who offered to help me. A different midwife was sent to our house every couple of days to weigh our daughter. I had no milk the first few days and she had lost a fair bit of weight. Even when my milk came in, I found breastfeeding painful and difficult, in large part because it hurt so much to sit down.

I cried quietly every day for several months. Often it would come completely out of nowhere. I’d be talking or watching television and I would just start to cry. Several midwives wrote in my notes in those early weeks the same phrase: “Mum is anxious.” I don’t think I was. I was traumatised. Several weeks later, I was told that I was “lucky” by the midwife examining my stitches. Apparently the doctors had done a “wonderful” job at repairing me and it looked “beautiful”. I now know that I was fortunate to be repaired properly and immediately after the birth. But the last thing I felt — then or now — was lucky.

After several months I desperately needed to have some control over my life again. I had never felt so helpless, lost and infantilised. But my overarching feeling was anger. I wrote to the chief executive and chair of the hospital to complain and was invited in for a debrief. The head of midwifery was lovely, apologised and followed through on her promise to try to prevent other women facing the appalling lack of communication I had. The hospital now has a specialist perineal health clinic too.

But the attitude of the consultant obstetrician whom I met with my husband floored us both. It was about six months after the birth, but I was still under the care of a consultant urogynaecologist. (I subsequently had two further operations: the first 14 months after giving birth to remove an undissolved stitch that was causing pain but hadn’t been spotted, and another six months after that.) My urogynaecologist had told me not even to consider giving birth vaginally again. The risk was too great, he explained. If I tore again, there was a 30 per cent chance I couldn’t be repaired and I’d be incontinent. The obstetrician said the opposite — don’t rule it out! I saw red. “How dare you,” I growled. I remember saying that he would never be so cavalier about a man’s body.

Every year, about 25,000 women who give birth — approximately 4 per cent — are so distressed that they meet the diagnostic criteria for post-traumatic stress disorder. That makes birth one of the biggest causes of PTSD in the UK according to the Birth Trauma Association charity – probably coming second only to sexual abuse and rape. Hundreds of thousands more women are traumatised. This is a major health crisis. And yet it is barely discussed.

“Birth trauma is a broad term, but generally it’s overwhelming distress that leads to a detrimental impact on well-being,” explains Susan Ayers, professor of maternal and child health at City University in London. Estimates “range massively”, she says, but having conducted research into birth trauma for almost 30 years, Ayers puts it at about a third. “If you ask women whether they thought they or their baby was going to die or be severely injured, then it’s around 19-20 [per cent] in the UK. But if people just ask women, ‘Was your birth traumatic?’ some of those estimates are up to 50 per cent.”

“I’M BEATRICE’S MUM,” EMILY SAID, introducing herself to a committee of MPs in March. “Beatrice died during labour at full term in May 2022.” Emily is one of a number of brave women who have shared their traumatic birth stories with the all-party parliamentary group (APPG) on birth trauma, during the first parliamentary inquiry into this issue.

“As soon as my labour started,” Emily explained, “I knew it wasn’t right, wasn’t normal.” The details are harrowing: a series of obvious but missed red flags and an attitude from medical professionals that can only be described as cruel. The midwife who shrugged her shoulders when Emily’s waters were meconium-stained; the consultant obstetrician who laughed at the “slimy” feel of that meconium while her hand was still inside Emily.

“The ultrasound scanning machine was brought in and showed that Beatrice’s heartbeat had stopped,” she explained. “At that point I begged, pleaded like I’ve never pleaded for anything in my life for a caesarean, and that consultant obstetrician refused. She said no. And she left.”

“It’s destroyed my life,” Emily says now. “I’m not the person I was before.”

This inquiry has been led by the APPG’s co-chairs, the Conservative MP Theo Clarke and Labour’s Rosie Duffield. They received more than 1,200 written submissions after asking women to share their experiences; that number doubles if you count the letters and emails they’ve been sent informally.

“The thing that’s really struck me is there seems to be a taboo around talking about the risk of childbirth,” Clarke tells me when I sit down with both women in Westminster. There shouldn’t be, she adds. “Something we’ve heard from a number of the mothers coming to speak to us is that there’s such a focus on the baby post-delivery, they almost forget there’s a second patient in the room, and that’s the mother.”

“I was constantly told by GPs that I had nothing wrong with me,” one mother, Sarah, told the MPs. She experienced a major tear that doctors and midwives failed to diagnose. “I was discharged two days later with [an] untreated tear, which very quickly led to enormous amounts of pain, incontinence, faecal incontinence and thinking I was going mad.”

“It’s very painful,” explained Jenny, who also experienced a serious tear that was left untreated, “but the long-term consequences of an unrepaired tear are that I had to give up my job. I’ve suffered PTSD, anxiety, depression. My activities are restricted. My life is impacted in that I have to meticulously plan my day around toilets.”

Another mother, Neera, lost three litres of blood and required more than ten hours of life-saving emergency surgery the day her daughter was born. The haemorrhage had not been picked up by staff. She said she is fortunate to have had the “means and support” to access mental healthcare over four and a half years of her five-year-old’s life. “I have personally spent over £6,000 and received more than 50 hours of mental health support,” she told parliament.

The women who have spoken to politicians as part of the inquiry had different medical experiences. But there were obvious similarities. Their concerns and their pain were dismissed. They were not treated with respect or, in some cases, like human beings. They felt helpless, angry and scared. “Nobody really cares about women,” says Kim Thomas, CEO of the Birth Trauma Association. “What we tend to find with most of these stories is there’s failure after failure after failure. Lots of things go physically wrong… and that continues afterwards in the postnatal period with really poor care.” Almost all women seeking out the charity say their experience was made much worse by the way they were treated during labour. “The number of stories we hear of women being shouted at by midwives or laughed at by midwives is quite extraordinary.”

Birth doesn’t have to be this way. And it isn’t for many women. But women, in England in particular, could — and should — be having better experiences than they are.

Let’s start with serious tears. The number one risk factor is being a first-time mum. There’s nothing much that can be done about that. But the next is having an instrumental vaginal delivery — and in particular one that uses forceps. “Data indicates that we use more forceps than other parts of Europe,” says Dr Ranee Thakar, president of the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists (RCOG). While rates in several European countries hover at around 0 per cent, a 2023 study of assisted births in 13 high-income countries found England used forceps in a higher proportion of births — about 11 per cent — than any other.

There are cases where forceps must be used. When babies are premature, suction would cause too much damage to the head. But that’s doesn’t explain the discrepancy. “It’s education,” Thakar explains. “We should be trained to do both [forceps and ventouse], so that we provide the best care to women and use the right instrument for the right baby and the right mother.”

The risk of a severe tear when forceps are used is at least twice as high as with ventouse: 8-12 per cent compared with 4 per cent. Women should be told this. The recent parliamentary inquiry heard other suggestions that might explain why forceps use in England is so high. The consultant gynaecologist and obstetrician Dr Nitish Raut explained that when poor outcomes of childbirth become part of litigation, the question, “Why were forceps not applied earlier?” will be asked. Although they can cause injury to mothers, forceps are the most effective instrument for getting a baby out. If a doctor tries and fails to deliver a baby with the less invasive ventouse first, a record will be made at the hospital trust. It was suggested by others that this might also be pushing some doctors straight to forceps use even when they might not be necessary.

“Training is a really key part of everything here,” Posy Bidwell, deputy head of midwifery at South Warwickshire Foundation Trust, told MPs. “If we can train people, we can prevent these injuries happening. Many midwifery students wouldn’t know the impact that these injuries are having on women.”

Newly qualified midwives did not know enough about perineal damage, and yet they’re providing one-to-one care to women. Current training did not seem to see it as a priority: while several aspects of maternity care are mandatory each year, suturing and perineal protection are not.

Neither doctors nor midwives appear to be taught how to routinely examine women after they have given birth either. Where this was once part of mandatory medical training, doctors are no longer encouraged to do it, Raut explained.

England is short of as many as 2,500 midwives, the Royal College of Midwives (RCM) estimates, although people are wanting to train and join the profession. Donna Ockenden, who is reviewing maternity services at Nottingham and who previously did so at Shrewsbury and Telford Hospitals NHS Trust, cautions against being too optimistic, however. The focus needs to be on retention. “Two midwives don’t equal two midwives,” she told parliament, “of we are losing midwives with 20, 30, 35 years’ experience… and they’re then being replaced by a more junior workforce, who are not being supported in those early days of their career.”

In the past decade and a half, the UK has seen several NHS maternity scandals — in Morecambe Bay, Shrewsbury and Telford, and East Kent. In all these cases, some of the poor care provided to mothers and their babies was because of a push towards “normal” or “natural” birth and a desire to keep caesarean section rates low. The RCM ended its campaign for “normal births” in 2017, but its legacy persists. Some NHS trusts still talk about them today. A culture of cover-ups and a lack of care remains in others. Just last month, the Care Quality Commission found that staff at Great Western Hospital in Swindon had been downgrading third and fourth-degree tears, “which meant they were not investigated as thoroughly as they should” have been. The c-section target was only officially dropped in 2022. Does RCOG now accept that it was a mistake? “It’s difficult for me to say years later whether it was a mistake or not,” Thakar tells me. “I think there was a general trend at the time to put figures to caesarean section rates. But now we know that, we don’t do that.” It was now right that women were offered a choice; she insists she hasn’t seen an attitude against caesareans more recently.

Aside from any physical and psychological impact, traumatic births are costing the country billions. According to figures from NHS Resolution, the arm of the Department of Health and Social Care that handles litigation, 62 per cent of the total clinical negligence cost of harm in 2022-23 (£6.6 billion) related to maternity. Of the £2.6 billion spent on clinical negligence payments that year, £1.1 billion (41 per cent) related to maternity. (As the fact-checking service Full Fact explains, the cost of harm differs from the amount actually paid out in compensation: the former includes an estimate of claims expected in the future arising from incidents in that financial year.) The year before, maternity services accounted for 60 per cent of the total clinical negligence cost of harm (£13.6 billion). NHS England spends about £3 billion a year on maternity and neonatal services.

There is such a long way to go. The government is well behind on its long-term target of halving the rates of stillbirth and neonatal mortality by 2025; the death of mothers within 42 days of the end of pregnancy is at its highest rate in almost 20 years. And while only a handful of trusts have been subject to official investigations, there are signs that poor care is happening across the country. Only half of maternity units in England are rated good or outstanding; one in ten is inadequate. That is a damning indictment of the way so many women are cared for.

One crucial area of improvement does not cost money at all. It requires a shift in attitude to one where women are treated with respect, listened to and allowed to make informed decisions about their bodies and babies.

When I first heard of parliament’s inquiry into birth trauma, it was never my intention to share my experience. Doing so has been upsetting and uncomfortable. But as I sat listening to other women talk about how giving birth had affected them so profoundly, it felt dishonest to stay quiet. Difficult births are not something we should feel ashamed of — much as I know many women will have been, myself included.

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ahalliance · 7 months

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this bit from baghs’ lore is haunting me . a blackboard with all the francophones’ initals . were all of them originally island experiments that managed to escape like qbaghs?

#qsmp #baghera jones #french lore goes haaaaaard #like . okay . baghs was a child hybrid experiment who grew up with the feds then eventually managed to escape .#we know Someone was asked and then instructed to Get Her Back #which we think means the whole crashing the plane on purpose thing . which we think kameto orchestrated #and all the other francophones have Some sort or connection to the island and experiments as well #étoiles serving as a test subject during his code fights for the feds #the feds nearly torturing aypierre to death (fucked up . btw can we talk about that) to get info out of him #and then performing some dubious ass unknown procedure on him to save his life #antoine has less tying him to the feds as of Now but we know he doesn’t hold as much hatred for the feds as the others do . like he’s very #neutral and almost lenient towards them (suceur de cucurucho . anw)#so there’s links for All of them . multiple hints pointing towards a shared islander past linked to the federation #maybe that explains why the federation seems so chill about them (in comparison to the brazilians lmao)#like . they’re not That outwardly aggressive towards them #maybe the Feds are just so smug and pleased that they got their experiments back that they don’t mind being lenient towards them now .#because they’ve got them back in their clutches and this time they won’t be able to leave #hmmmmmmm okay current theory: baghs n some of the others (at least aypierre and étoiles though probs antoine too) managed to escape the fed #kameto stayed behind for x reason idk he’s a fed simp . anw he was then instructed to orchestrate the plane crash to bring the others back #and he did . and the vague memories aypierre has and the ‘oh maybe they’re not so bad’ mentality antoine has #are just the old Feelings being stirred up by being back on the island despite the amnesia #okay boom im so smart #jay rambles #incredibly long tag set im not sorry

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itadorey · 5 months

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𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐖— gojo satoru

pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader summary: it's hard to hide your relationship when your boyfriend has a staring problem. genre: fluff, humor (?), secret relationship notes: inspired by a real incident (aware). not revised, sorry for any mistakes </3 wc: ~2.4k

he’s staring.

you're sitting on the couch, curled up in the corner and chatting with shoko about your hellish weeks, and he's just staring.

you keep your gaze on shoko, refusing to look at gojo as he stands in the doorway and all but ignores geto's greeting. it's a little embarrassing, really, and you can't help but spare a glance in his direction in order to give him a sharp glare. the corners of his lips tug up at your action, and he reluctantly tears his eyes away from you and greets geto with an enthusiastic hug.

"i brought cookie dough!" gojo announces proudly, puffing his chest out as the rest of you groan. he all but wilts at the sound you all make, and you can see his lips forming a pout as he gives you all an expectant look. "what's the issue?"

"last time you tried to bake cookies, you burnt them," shoko says dryly, letting her head fall back against the couch as she complains. "for someone who claims to be good at everything you sure seem to love proving yourself wrong."

"that's because i didn't read the instructions, shoko," gojo explains patiently, face smug as he smirks. "but it'll be fine this time because you'll be the one making them."

"like hell i will," shoko snaps, eyes narrowing as she turns her head to glare at gojo.

"then i'll just try my luck again, i guess," gojo says breezily, meeting her glare evenly. the two of them stare each other down for a couple of seconds before shoko lets out a loud sigh and stands up, stalking over to gojo and snatching the container out of his hands. a snicker leaves his lips as she starts to walk towards the kitchen, and it only turns into a full blown laugh when she picks up the nearest thing (which happens to be geto's water bottle) and launches it at him.

"suguru!" shoko yells once she's in the kitchen. "get in here! you're going to help me."

"i'll be right back," geto says, smiling amicably before slipping through the doorway. you turn to finally face gojo, smiling as he bends down to pick up the fallen water bottle before placing it on the table beside him. the smile remains on your face as he approaches, and he can't help but smile in return as he casually points to the now empty space next to you.

"this seat taken?"

"yeah, by shoko," you scoff lightly, shaking your head lightly when he ignores your words and plops himself down next to you. he rests his arm on the back of the couch, and his added weight has the cushion sinking in a way that forces you to lean into him.

"oh? is that so?" gojo asks, an innocent smile on his face as he inches forward the slightest bit.

"yeah," you breathe, eyes darting towards the kitchen to make sure that geto and shoko are still occupied.

"but she's not here right now," gojo teases, chuckling when you roll your eyes.

"she'll come back eventually."

"and she can sit on my other side," gojo states confidently, leaning in even further with a cocky little grin on his face. "besides, we both know she likes curling up and resting her head on the arm rest."

"but she always insists on sitting next to me," you argue, giving in and leaning in as well.

"then you can sit in the middle," gojo whispers, his lips brushing against yours the slightest bit. "that way it's a win-win for everyone involved."

"what about suguru? where will he sit?"

"who cares?" gojo murmurs, eyes fluttering shut as he leans in fully to kiss you.

"the cookies will be ready in fifteen minutes!"

the two of you spring apart, almost leaping to opposite ends of the couch as shoko peeks her head into the living room. there's a moment of silence as she glances between the two of you, and it isn't until she turns to look back at who you assume is geto that you share a mildly panicked look with gojo.

"do we wanna wait or should we just start the movie?" shoko asks, drawing your attention back to her.

"let's just start the movie," you say, willing yourself to sound as normal as possible. shoko nods in return, stepping back into the living room with geto trailing behind her. she makes her way to the couch as geto approaches the tv, gingerly plucking the remote from behind it before settling down on the ground. shoko comes to a stop in front of gojo, motioning for him to move from his spot so she can sit.

you shuffle awkwardly across the couch as gojo makes his way to the other end of the couch, sinking into the middle seat as shoko curls up on the edge and rests her head on the arm rest. you turn to look at gojo when he plops down next to you, only to be met with a smug expression that screams 'i told you so'. the tv comes to life as geto nestles himself into the spot between you and shoko, his broad back pressed firmly up against the couch and preventing you from moving to the left in fear of accidentally kicking him.

"so what are we thinking?" geto asks, tilting his head back to look at the three of you. "comedy? action? romance?"

"horror," you reply flatly, choosing to ignore the look geto had sent your way when he had suggested romance. you smirk when you notice his expression fall, and he merely grumbles something under his breath before shifting his attention back to the tv.

"any objections?" geto asks, sparing a glance at shoko and frowning when she shakes her head. "any at all?"

"just choose a movie," shoko sighs, lightly kicking the back of geto's head. it's silent as geto finally settles on a movie that you know you've all seen before, and you decide to let it slide this time because you know that dealing with a scared geto is worse than sitting through a rewatch.

you reach across gojo to turn off the floor lamp, effectively plunging the living room into near-darkness. the glow from the television is bright enough to highlight geto's uncertain expression, and you resist the urge to snicker as you lean forward to tug at his hair. he looks up at you in annoyance, rolling his eyes when you speak. "if you get too scared, you can just sit on gojo's lap, okay?"

a low snort leaves shoko's words at your comment, and geto shushes her as the movie begins to play. you quickly find yourself engrossed in the film, and you let yourself melt into the couch as the first scene plays. you make sure to stay aware of geto's reactions when you realize the first jump scare is coming up, and you're rewarded with a sharp jolt as geto does his best to hold in his gasp.

a swat to the calf is all you receive when he hears your quiet laugh, and you throw a glance at shoko in hopes of sharing an amused glance, only to stop when you notice her already looking at you. or rather, looking past you and directly at gojo.

you feel yourself stiffen as you force yourself to look back at the film, waiting for shoko so turn her attention back to the tv before glancing at gojo through your periphery. a soft sigh leaves your lips when you see him staring at you, and you waste no time before elbowing his side and subtly tilting your head towards the tv. you don't wait to see his reaction, but you do feel him shift in his seat, stretching his arm across the back of the couch before running his fingers over your shoulder lightly.

you shiver lightly at the contact, and you don't even have to spare gojo another glance to know he's back to staring at you. the next few minutes consist of the same few actions: gojo shamelessly stares at you, shoko shoots him suspicious glances, and you do your best to ignore the two of them while you watch the movie. it isn't until a phone goes off that the strange cycle finally gets broken.

"what was that?" geto asks, eyes wide and voice low as he pauses the movie. you shake your head, trying to suppress a smile at his reaction.

"my phone," shoko says, her eyes glinting with amusement. "the cookies are ready. c'mon, suguru."

"no, i'll help!" you say, jumping to your feet. you watch as shoko watches you with narrowed eyes, and can't help but sigh in relief when she merely shrugs and starts making her way into the kitchen. you pointedly ignore gojo's stare and geto's curious look, slipping into the next room just in time to see shoko pull a tray out of the oven.

"i wanna wait for them to cool down, but i also know how impatient those two are," shoko mutters, a hand on her hip as she looks down at the tray. you hold up a finger, skirting around her and rifling through one of geto's drawers before finding a spatula.

"we can just transfer them to a plate and take them back with us. besides, gojo likes them warm," you suggest, earning a nod from shoko. you trade places with her while she pulls out a plate, and you begin scooping the freshly baked cookies onto it as she leans on the counter next to you.

"so, gojo," shoko says offhandedly. "y'know, he's been staring all night."

"oh? has he?" you ask, mentally patting yourself on the back when your voice remains steady.

"yeah," she continues, watching as you place the last of the cookies on the plate before grabbing it. "just pay attention and you'll notice. it's kind of scary, if i'm being honest. if he kept looking at me with those eyes of his, i'd put in a complaint with yaga."

you can't help but giggle at her words, and you quickly wash the spatula and dry it before placing it back into the drawer. "i'll keep your words in mind."

shoko gives you a lazy smile before plucking the tray of cookies off the counter, already making her way back into the living room. "make sure to keep an eye out!"

"yeah, yeah, whatever," you grumble under your breath, following after her and taking your seat once again. you flinch when she plops the plate into your lap, but you're given no time to say anything before geto and gojo are digging into the cookies.

"they're still warm!" gojo exclaims, earning a soft smile from you. shoko watches you closely, making sure to give you a knowing look when you finally glance her way. she remains silent when geto starts playing the movie once again, only reaching for a cookie herself and curling back up on the couch cushion.

five minutes after resuming the movie, you feel gojo's knee bump against yours as he shifts in his spot, sinking lower in his seat and spreading his legs apart before leaning against the armrest on his side. you can feel shoko's prickly stare as you keep your own gaze focused on the tv, and you simply tuck your legs under you and refuse to acknowledge either one of them. it isn't long until you can feel gojo staring at you too, and you feel your face grow warmer due to all the attention.

by the time the movie ends, geto is the only one who can say he actually watched the film, and he wastes no time before leaping to his feet and letting out a groan as he stretches.

"well, i need a drink if we're going to continue with the horror movies," geto announces, turning the floor lamp back on. he leans over to snag the last cookie, breaking it in two before offering half to gojo.

"me too," shoko agrees, suppressing a yawn as she joins geto's side. "i could go for a drink."

"me three," you chime in, making a move to stand up only to be stopped by shoko.

"nah, stay here," she says smugly, placing a hand on your shoulder to keep you in place. "i'll get it for you."

"um, okay?" you respond hesitantly, watching as geto follows shoko into the kitchen. "thank you!"

"well, well, well," gojo says quietly, leaning in and drawing your attention back to him. "it seems like we're all alone."

"you're so stupid," you snort, gently pushing him away from you. he pouts at your action and you find yourself shaking your head fondly at his expression. "shoko's been noticing all the staring you've been doing."

"well can you blame me?" he asks, grabbing your hand and pulling you close. he lets his lips skim against your knuckles, and you roll your eyes when he finally presses a firm kiss to the back of your hand. "how can i not stare when i have the most beautiful art i've ever seen sitting right next to me?"

"you're so cheesy!" you hiss, ignoring the way your stomach lurches when he gently intertwines his fingers with yours.

"yeah but you love it," gojo responds haughtily.

"yeah, i do," you say softly. gojo's eyes soften at your words, and he leans forward slightly before pausing, hesitation clear on his face. you let go of his hand to cup his cheek, pulling him even closer as you run your thumb along his cheekbone. "c'mere."

gojo's lips meet yours eagerly, and you resist the urge to smile when you hear him hum happily. you scoot yourself closer to him, half on his lap as he tilts his head to the side in an attempt to deepen the kiss. you respond eagerly, giggling when his hands settle on your waist and pull you onto his lap entirely.

"i told you they were making out!"

the two of you pull away from each other when you hear shoko's voice, and you turn to give her a mildly annoyed look as she gives you a smug one in return. geto stands right behind her, lips pursed as he does his best to hold back a smile.

"yeah, we were," gojo mutters bitterly, giving shoko a dark look. "before you so rudely interrupted."

shoko only laughs at his words, and you don't have the chance to explain anything before gojo is pulling you into another kiss.

"you owe me five bucks, suguru!"

reblogs are appreciated <3 ty for reading !!

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo imagine #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo imagines #satoru x reader

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rileyslibrary · 11 months

Text

HR thought it’d be a good idea to handcuff you and Ghost together as a team-building exercise. It wasn’t. Or was it?

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,345 (approx. 5-6 min reading time)

Notes:

Fluff and the typical shenanigans

Warnings: language, suggestive content

For @ddiamondsdancing, who inspired me through her story

More of these.

———————————————————————

He secures one end of the handcuffs to your wrist and adjusts them.

“Is it okay?” He asks.

“It’s beautiful, Lieutenant, you shouldn’t have,” you reply and flick your wrist.

He makes a clicking sound with his tongue and rolls his eyes.

“I mean, does it hurt?”

He’s one of the most feared men on the base, yet he worries about hurting you. That’s… new.

You twist the handcuff, and he advises against fidgeting too much, asking you to let him know if it hurts so he can readjust it.

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” you finally say.

“Good,” he responds and clicks the other end of the handcuff to his wrist, “shall we get going?”

You nod.

Things have started changing around the base since HR got their hands on your superiors. They switched their focus away from resorting to punishment and toward more effective ways of communication.

That was all good and fun until Captain Price and the other higher-ups decided that this training shouldn’t be limited to them alone. They believed that everyone at the base could benefit from the same approach.

And here comes today, where you find yourself assigned to Ghost as a buddy with a pair of handcuffs—key not included—and instructed to spend the entire day helping each other. Or torment. Whichever comes first. Or more naturally.

He starts walking, but his strides are so broad that you get dragged along.

“Can you—” you struggle to find the words while keeping up, “can you chill for a second?”

He stops in his tracks, which causes you to bump into his back. You look at him, annoyed, and he stares down at you.

“You need to slow your pace, Lieutenant.”

“You need to pick up yours.”

“I can’t lengthen my strides,” you explain, “but you can shorten yours.”

He looks down at his boots briefly and lets out a sharp chuckle. You wonder what’s going through his mind. He turns his feet outward like a ballerina and starts taking little steps forward.

“Are you mocking me, Lieutenant?” you ask.

“Do you walk like that?” he asks back.

“No.”

“Then no, I’m not mocking you,” he replies, although you can hear the amusement in his voice. He stops and turns to face you.

“Go on,” he says, gesturing with his head for you to move to the front, “you take the lead, and I’ll adjust my walk.”

The rest of the day wasn’t easy, but it was manageable.

You went to the training room, where you had to do the same exercises simultaneously and adjust to each other’s pace to get work done, except in some cases where the Lieutenant wanted to put in more reps. So you sat on the ground, cross-legged, with your hand attached to his, and waited until he finished his push-ups.

“Ready to hit the showers with me, Lieutenant?” You tease and anticipate his reaction.

He stands up and helps you off the ground.

“From bonding to bondage...” He says, and you immediately get flustered. You weren’t expecting this kind of reaction, that’s for sure.

“Tempting offer, soldier,” he says in a flirtatious tone, “but first, you have to tell me...”

He pauses and seizes you, looking at you from head to toe. Your heart beats so fast in your chest that you can feel your pulse in your throat and head.

“...how are you going to remove your shirt?” He asks and shakes your handcuffed hands.

Good question. But you won’t let logic, or Ghost, take hold of you now.

“When there is a will, there is a way, sir,” you reply. “I can cut through it.”

“And what about putting another shirt on afterwards?” he adds, raising an eyebrow. “Will you be sewing one back on?”

You sigh and roll your eyes. “Always with the logistics, aren’t you?”

“Someone has to think ahead,” he explains, pulling you gently to keep moving, “just in case we have to explain to HR why we’re both handcuffed and naked.”

Touché.

You organised the warehouse for your next task, and the handcuffs forced you to communicate and collaborate more closely than ever before. Navigating through the cluttered aisles and shelves became a shared challenge. You relied on each other’s strengths to find the best way forward. Every movement had to be coordinated, and every decision was made together.

Even when you wanted to take a break and have a snack, he helped you by holding up your water bottle while you munched on your sandwich. It was as if the handcuffs became a synonym for unity and teamwork rather than restraint and suppression. You had to trust each other’s judgement and, by combining your resourcefulness, turn every obstacle into an opportunity.

Up until you had to pee.

“Can’t you hold it in?”

“Until the end of the day?” You ask, squeezing your legs together, “No way, Lt., sorry. I—we have to go now.”

“No wonder why,” he snaps and pulls you with him, “you drank the entire water bottle.”

“It was you who fed me the entire water bottle,” you snap back and follow him to the toilets. “You were squeezing too much water in my mouth—that’s why it went empty.”

You approach the bathroom stall and squeeze into one of the cubicles. Ghost looks away to allow you some privacy.

“Sir?” You ask, and he turns halfway.

“I need your hand; I mean my hand to unzip my pants.”

He lets out a long exhale and relaxes his arm, so you can use it as you wish. With his hand very close to your zip, you pull down your pants and squat.

But nothing’s coming out. You need more privacy, and unfortunately, under these circumstances, you had none. How didn’t HR think of that? The HR, of all the departments!

“You done?” He asks with his head facing the door.

“I haven’t started yet,” you explain. “I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable.”

“A couple of hours ago, you wanted to shower together, but now you’re uncomfortable peeing in my presence?”

“That’s different, Ghost; I think you know that.”

And, as if things weren’t awkward enough, someone knocks on your bathroom door. Ghost lifts his heels and peeks from the top of the door. He instinctively turns halfway to talk to you, but you kick him to look in front.

“It’s Janet from HR,” he jokingly tells you. “Want to say hi?”

“What the hell, Ghost?” You whisper, “Shut up.”

He chuckles and then turns to face her.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he apologises, “you’re going to have to find another loo; we’re trying to pee in this one.”

You glance at Ghost’s back, and your face flushes with embarrassment.

“We’re... experiencing a tiny issue, Janet,” you explain, “the handcuffs, you see...”

Before you can finish your explanation, Ghost interrupts you.

“It’s a team-building exercise, Janet!” He says in a threatening tone while peeking at Janet, who’s hurrying out of the bathroom, “We’re exploring new levels of trust and communication; ISN’T THAT WHAT YOU FUCKERS WANTED US TO DO?”

“GHOST!” You shout.

“What?” he asks, acting innocent. “They should have considered the consequences before implementing stupid shit.”

“Speaking of shit...”

“Don’t tell me you have to do that as well,” he says, throwing his head back. “We’re going to stay here forever.”

“No,” you reply, “I’m done—your feud with Janet helped me.”

With Ghost’s help, you zip up your pants, wash your hands—all four of them—and head to Price’s office, where you’re about to report how the team-building exercise went. In return, you will receive the key to your handcuffs.

You stand at the captain’s door with several other soldiers, handcuffed in pairs.

“I’ll miss you, Lt.,” you whisper, “my other half.”

He chuckles and shakes his head.

“No, really,” you continue, “who will I have now to unzip my pants when I want to pee and squeeze the fucking ocean in my mouth when I want water.”

“Don’t worry,” he replies, “I’m sure you’ll find another poor soul to torture.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“No,” he says, taking your hand discreetly and interlocking your fingers in his, “not one bit.”

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod ghost

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augustinewrites · 7 months

Text

“you’re an idiot.”

“really, doc? you’re gonna insult me after i came all this way to see you?”

you pause what you’re doing to stare down at wriothesley with a wholly unimpressed look. “you were wheeled in on a stretcher.”

(he’d even come in shirtless, one hand resting behind his head all laid out like a fontanian model in a clothing campaign.)

he dismisses the fact with a wave of his good hand, tsking. “only because sigewinne threatened to tranq me if i didn’t get on!”

you know for a fact that the head nurse is still stationed outside the infirmary in case his grace tries to leave without staying for overnight observation.

“she should have done it anyway,” you hum, taking his wrist and using it to carefully position his arm at his side. you nod at the nurse across from you holding the band to keep him steady. “deep breath now, your grace.”

wriothesley draws a breath and releases it quickly, grinning up at you. “so, what are you— fuck!”

“get him a sling,” you instruct, stifling a laugh as you let go of his arm and step back. “i’ll get him an ice pack.”

the two of you move around the infirmary, quickly gathering supplies as the duke lets loose a string of expletives that would make sigewinne faint.

it’s quite entertaining to see the duke pout, holding a heart-patterned ice pack to his shoulder. “i think i deserve a kiss for that.”

“a kiss is going to help with shoulder pain?”

“duh.”

this time, you don’t stifle your laughter as he closes his eyes and puckers his lips.

you pull a sticker from your pocket, pressing it to his waiting lips. “you were a very brave boy.”

his pucker turns into a pout as he uses his good hand to take the sticker off, sticking it to his discarded gauntlets. he looks more like a puppy than a wolf in this state.

with the worst of it out of the way, you begin tending to any scrapes or bruises.

it should be simple, but wriothesley doesn’t make it easy. he flexes playfully whenever your fingertips brush his biceps. insists on holding your hand when the antiseptic touches his wounds.

“okay, you’re all done,” you tell him, peeling off your gloves and tossing them into the bin. “but you will have to stay overnight so we can monitor you for any concussion symptoms.”

his brows raise as he clicks his tongue, smirking. “oh? are you asking me on a date?”

“no,” you say, tucking your clipboard under your arm. “i’m doing my due diligence as your physician.”

“but it’ll just be me and you and this very romantic lighting…”

“it’s dim light because someone keeps forgetting to put in the order for new ones.”

“they’re dim? hm, i didn’t notice. how could i when your smile lights up the room?”

you roll your eyes when he winks, but can’t help the heat you feel spreading across your face. “if you keep this up, i’ll have sigewinne and her tranquilizer gun stay overnight with you instead.”

“if i stop and you stay, will you at least have tea with me?” he asks, a hopeful glimmer in his eye.

“fine, i’ll stay. but only if i get to pick the tea,” you tell him, pulling a chair to the side of his bed and shedding your lab coat to get comfortable. “you’re especially insufferable when you’re injured, aren’t you?”

he reaches out and pulls the chair closer, so you’re sitting between his knees. “and yet, you’re finally succumbing to the temptation of my rock hard abs and winning personality.”

“no,” you deny, but you’d be lying if you said being this close to his spectacularly toned torso wasn’t doing…things to you. “it’s because you have liyue imported tea.”

“yeah,” he says, flashing you a charming, sinful smile that makes the fine hairs on the back of your neck raise, threatening to shatter your resolve. “if you say so.”

#he is so annoying i need him #wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #wriothesley x you

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smileysuh · 9 months

Text

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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#wonwoo #wonwoo smut #svthub #svthub.collab #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo smut #svt #svt smut #seventeen #seventeen smut #wonwoo seventeen #wonwoo svt #wonwoo svt smut #seventeen wonwoo #svt wonwoo #svt wonwoo smut #seventeen wonwoo smut #wonwoo x reader

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messylustt · 1 year

Text

teach me — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : ethan comes to you with a surprising request…

contents : kissing, i don’t really know how to kiss, so don’t mind the “teaching” part, virgin/innocent ethan. wc 1.5k.

pt one pt two

“what did you want to talk about?” you ask ethan as he takes a seat on your bed beside you.

you turn to him, lifting your knee to get comfortable.

“i, uh,” ethan begins gulping. why was he so nervous?

“is something wrong?” you question, worried that it may be related to the wandering ghostface, but ethan just shakes his head.

“no, i just—” he breathes, finally meeting your gaze. “its kind of embarrassing.”

you chuckle, wondering what the hell he could be on about.

“have you ever, like…touched someone?” his question comes off so innocent, that it takes you a moment to process his actual words.

you furrow your brows as you tilt your head. “as in…sexually?”

ethan diverts your gaze. “yeah.”

“oh.” you say before sitting straighter. “yeah, i have. why do you ask?”

ethan scratches the back of his neck. “well, there’s this girl i like, and I want to impress her. i plan to ask her out…but if we kiss i want it to be…good.”

“ah, and if you go further you want to know what your doing?” you guess.

ethan carefully looks away with a quick nod and an awkward chuckle.

“well, for one, i don’t think she’d mind if your a virgin. most girls don’t care.” you say honestly. ethan meets your gaze. “but I totally get if you want to impress her.” you smile.

you pause. “so, why did you come to me? i mean, i’m sure chad knows what he’s doing.” you chuckle.

ethan joins you. “yeah, but he’d tease me for it and not actually be very helpful.” he scoffs.

“ah,” you hum, nodding. “well, what do you want to know?”

ethan meets your gaze. “h-how to kiss…maybe.”

you nod, crossing your legs as you fully face him. ethan turns to face you more as well, resting his hand back against your duvet.

“so, it’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it,” you begin. “focus on her bottom lip, and press lightly as first. then when you want to add tongue you brush yours along—”

“can you show me?” ethan speaks quickly, watching you carefully. “i-i just mean so that i can actually…practice, you know?”

your slightly shocked that ethan asked that, but you know that it’s just as he says. ‘practice’. “i mean, sure. if your comfortable?”

ethan nods, maybe a fraction too quickly, as his eyes dart down to your lips. “i just want learn.”

you take a breath before sitting closer, ethan moves as well until your legs are touching. you lean forward.

“just let me know when you want to stop.” you say, as you lift your hand to his cheek. “obviously i’m used to being with guys rather than girls, but luckily kissing is the same both ways.”

you draw closer, hearing ethan’s thumping heart. “focus on the bottom lip.” you instruct as you wrap your lips over his top, pressing into him.

ethan copies you, wrapping his lips around your bottom as you both kiss. moving against each other slowly at first, as ethan copies your head movements. you pull away as your hand on his cheek drops to the side of his neck. “good.” you nod. “your a natural.”

ethan blushes at your compliment. “then?” he breathes out.

“then you have to know where to place your hands.” you begin, as ethan’s eyes dart down to your lips continuously. “depends your position of course. but, let’s say it’s sitting, like we are.”

you reach to grab his wrists. “the waist is always a good place.” you pull his hands to your hips. ethan listens to your words as he slides his hands further around your waist.

you slide your hands up and around the back of his neck. ethan leans closer to your lips, awaiting your next instruction.

“you can move your hands from here whenever you want.”

“to where?” he questions intently.

“anywhere.” you say. “like rubbing up and down her side, or under her shirt, if your brave enough.” you smirk, earning a small chuckle from him.

“alright.” he says, leaning back in. “anywhere.” he confirms to himself before he’s pressing his lips back to yours. he captures your bottom lip, carefully sucking. he’s soon dragging his hands along your side, before edging the hem of your shirt. “is that ok?” he asks against your lips.

“uh, yeah, good. that’s what you should say to her.” you gulp.

“and then?” ethan asks, as you back away a fraction.

“then you can add tongue. but if your not comfortable doing that with me, totally under—”

“no, i, uh, i want to.” ethan nods, his hands hitting against your thighs.

“alright.” you hold down the shakiness in your voice as you nod.

he pulls you back in, placing his hand on the back your neck now as he kisses you. a little more confident than before.

you take the next step and run your tongue along his bottom lip, asking for access. ethan got the hint as he opens his mouth a fraction. your tongue dives in, meeting his as his breath shudders against you. you let your tongue dance with his before your pulling back.

ethan follows your lips, his warm breath staying close, before he realises what he’s doing. he leans back looking bashful. “sorry.”

“it’s alright.” you say softly.

ethan meets your gaze. “can we do that again?” he pauses, catching your expression. “just so I can get it right.”

“yeah…sure.” you lean in again as ethan quickly places his mouth against yours, copying how you ran your tongue along his bottom lip. you open your mouth as he finds your tongue, taking control of this kiss, as you let him take the lead.

his hands are suddenly at your hips. “can you straddle me?” he asks, a little dazed. your eyes slightly widen.

“i’d want her to straddle me.” he says quickly noticing your expression.

you carefully nod, as you raise your leg over him, not quite sitting down though, just hovering.

ethan eagerly watches you, his hands still on your hips. then he’s pulling you in for another kiss. “am I doing it right?” he asks against your lips before he’s kissing you again.

“mhm.” you hum into his mouth as he laps at your tongue. growing more confident by the second.

your hand finds his hair, twisting in his curls as he lets out a small whimper. he blushes, having not meant to let that slip.

his hands draw under your loose shirt as he brushes up your sides. you slightly shiver at the slight coldness. “sorry.” he says, but you shake your head.

“your hands are just cold, that’s fine.” you assure him. “so, i can do this?” he asks as he runs his fingers along the skin by your ribs. you unintentionally arch as you nod. “she’d like that.”

ethan nods, absorbing all your words. his hands stop just under your bra, before they splay across your stomach. “can i?” ethan asks fiddling with the lace of your bra, looking extremely distracted.

“for her you should.” you say, remembering he’s doing this to impress a girl. you go to pull his hands out when his grip tightens around you. you jolt slightly. “i want to learn more.” he sounds nearly breathless.

“ethan.” you say catching his gaze. “i don’t think we should go farther if you like another girl—”

“what if i’ve already kissed her?” ethan cuts in.

your brows furrow. “then why did you—”

“what if i want her to show me how to touch her.” he sounds desperate as he pulls you down onto him, making you gasp. “to show me how to please her.” his breath hits your collarbone. and that’s when you feel how hard he’s grown underneath you.

out of shock you go to move away but you end up just moving along his bulge. he whimpers, bucking up into you. “fuck.” he whispers.

that’s when you realise that the girl is you. he had planned this.

ethans mouth hangs open as he holds you by your hips, grinding his bulge into you, becoming a quick whining mess.

you gasp. “ethan!”

“ugh, you feel so good. that feels so…good.” he whines as he uses you to rub himself.

“ethan.” you gasp-moan as he rubs right along your clothed clit.

ethan picks up on the sound straight away, watching your expression closely. he grinds again, watching you this time as he waits for another sound to fall from your lips. his expression is a mix of eagerness and pleasure. you moan again as he juts into you.

ethan smiles, finding more pleasure as your breathing stutters. you place your hands on his chest, trying to stop his movements.

“i thought you just wanted to kiss?” you ask, partly breathless.

ethan shakes his head. “no.” he leans in again, and captures your lips. “though, i do like kissing you.” he smiles against your lips.

“i didn’t know—” you begin.

“that i liked you?” ethan asks as his hand slips under your shirt again, rubbing up your back. you shake your head, and he holds down a grin. “can i—” he cuts himself off, breathing hard. “can i kiss somewhere else?”

#. ( archived )#the ethan effect #scream smut #scream #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry x y/n #scream 6 #ethan landry #jack champion #jack champion smut #jack champion x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x reader

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exhaslo · 21 days

Text

Over-Time

CEO!Miguel x Shy/Clumsy!Reader!

Warning: MINORS DNI, eventual smut, slow-burn, mentions of sex, bullying, cussing

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Dear, (Y/N), you have been selected to join us for a group interview at Alchemax. Please arrive at appointed date and time below. Read and follow all instructions to ensure your interview. We can't wait to meet you."

Unable to fathom what you had just read, a loud gasp escaped your lips instead. All you really read was interview. Everything else blurred out since you were so excited to finally have a chance to leave your current job.

"Oh my gosh! Do I even have the proper clothes for an interview there?! I can't believe it!" You whispered, resisting a squeal.

This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Alcehmax was one of the biggest companies in Nueva York. Everyone in their right mind wanted to get even a chance to work there. Hell, some people were happy just being a janitor there.

It was all anyone wanted to gloat about. Getting an interview was nearly impossible and yet, your clumsy ass managed to get it. You had prayed to every God you could think of. The questionnaire was a nightmare and where people failed the most.

"Okay, okay! I have to prepare...I have to practice..." You told yourself.

Interviews were hard for you. You were nervous around new people and freaked out when asked hard questions. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you just smiled. You got this far. You had an interview to take and succeed in.

---------

"Lyla, have we found anyone decent enough within the last two group interviews?" Miguel asked with a grumble.

Lyla, Miguel's private assistant, just laughed. She took off her designer glasses and placed them on Miguel's desk. Miguel was the CEO of Alchemax. One of the richest men in all of Nueva York, and a man with a quick temper.

"We have some potential candidates for the open slot in Marketing, but no one to replace me for when I go on my vacaaaation~" Lyla sang happily. Miguel felt his eye twitch,

"Yes, I know. You haven't stopped bragging about your damn vacation all week. Would have been nice if you mentioned it sooner-"

"Oh, don't give me that, Migs. I had it pop up on your calendar every week for the past three months reminding you! It isn't my fault you don't look."

"I am a busy man. You know that because you make my schedule," Miguel hissed lowly then pinched the bridge of his nose, "Just-Ugh, I just find me someone who won't try and suck my dick within the first week."

Lyla just snickered as she typed on her tablet, "You need to find someone. Maybe it will make you less of a grump." She mocked.

Miguel exhaled loudly, glaring towards his assistant. It was a good thing that Miguel could tolerate that woman. Lyla was a close friend of his and knew how to push his buttons.

Leaning back in his seat, Miguel closed his eyes as he took the moment to rest. Lyla was going to be gone for a few months. She sure knew how to utilize her vacation time. Hell, Lyla had a tough job dealing with him. She deserved it.

"I just need someone....quiet."

---------

How could a building give off such an intimidating presence? It was as if all those powerful inside were warding off the weak and frail. The start of a challenging, yet welcoming part of your life. If you managed to do good in the interview.

Inhaling deeply, you gripped onto your folder and finally had the courage to make your way inside. You heard the stories, but Alchemax sure was a force to be reckon with. The inside of the reception floor felt like another world.

You had arrived super early. You were scared of being late and well, knowing yourself, you were probably going to get lost. Hopefully, your clumsiness won't get in the way of your interview.

"Ah-"

Magic words. Just thinking of it alone caused you to goof up. You had accidently bumped into someone while admiring the inside of the building.

"I-I'm s-so sorry!" You stuttered, panicked that you were fucking up already, "I wasn't looking! I'm sorry!"

"It's alright. Are you okay?" The man spoke as you picked up your paperwork that fell.

Tears were starting to form as you thought of running away. Glancing up at the stranger you bumped into, you sniffed and tried to compose yourself. The man before you had bend down and helped with your paperwork.

"No need to be afraid, I won't bite." The man said with a warming smile. You gulped, finding him very attrative,

"I'm sorry again."

"Oh? An interview?"

"Ah, yes. I'm a little early, but since I've never been here I wanted to make sure...I wouldn't get lost," You admited as he handed your paperwork, "Thank you. My name is (Y/N)."

"Miguel,"

You stood up, staring at the towering man before you. That name sounded familiar, but you were so focused on your goof up to remember. Everyone was probably staring at you, laughing and knowing that you were probably going to flunk the interview now.

"Come, I'll take you to the floor you're going to be at. There are drinks in the lobby once you arrive. Help yourself."

"Ah, thank you."

You were just lucky to have bumped into someone as nice as Miguel. If it were anyone else, they would have probably made you feel worse than you already do now.

---------

Miguel stayed quiet as he led you to the elevator. He won't lie that it was slightly amusing to find someone who didn't immediately recognized him. That and quite refreshing. Miguel wondered what you would think if you found out that he was the CEO.

Glancing ever so slightly in your direction, Miguel couldn't help but smile. It was like you were in your own little world. You were fumbling with your fingers while you had a slight look of panic on your face. Honestly, that was how people should look for an interview.

Alchemax was not a place to enter with confidence.

"What position are you applying for?" Miguel asked, wanting to ease your nerves.

"Oh!" You gasped lowly, "Marketing."

"Hm. How good are you with planning and scheduling?" He asked casually. Your shoulders raised slightly,

"I, um, I like to...It's easier for me when I have everything in an itinerary. Makes for unnecessary distractions and delays. I find myself at ease with a schedule," You admitted with such a carefree smile.

"And organization?"

"If I'm not overwhelmed I'm great with organizing things." You chirped, "Oh, um, will I get a lot of people talking and asking me questions if I do get hired here? I...I'm just a little shy and if I get overwhelmed I do tend to be clumsy."

Miguel resisted a chuckle, finding you quite entertaining. After another second of silence, Miguel watched as you gasped and covered your face with your folder.

How cute.

---------

How embarrassing!

Just because he was a handsome face and kind to you, doesn't mean you could get comfortable! It took you hours to practice talking to yourself in the mirror to prepare for an interview and now you were blabbing away nonsense to a stranger!

Feeling the elevator come to a stop. You gasped lowly, admiring the lobby before you.

"Here is your stop." Miguel spoke.

"Thank you," You bowed your head slightly, still embarrassed from rambling off.

As you stepped off the elevator, you gulped. Nerves started to kick in as you took your first step to a better future.

"Oh, and (Y/N)," Miguel called out, causing you to turn, "Best of luck."

"T-Thank you!"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Chapter

@timidquindim @decentsoupperson

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse

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honeywiththemoneyloa222 · 19 days

Text

MY LONG AWAITED SUCCESS STORY PLUS RANT/YALL NEED THIS STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND READ

First things first

I’m tired of being nice

I have took time out of MY day to help you guys

EVERY DAY

I have given tips methods

Advice answered questions

Replied to countless amounts of DMs

Etc etc I’m not providing false hope here I AM trying to help you guys

I’m getting so many different suggestions and asks

Let me say this

STOP

from now on

No more questions

If it’s urgent

Like you really wanna know something

DM me

I WILL respond

No more questions asking how to enter the void

My account is literally talking about HOW TO ENTER THE VOID STATE

Are instructions not clear?????

Get off your butt and fucking do it!!!!

Stop procrastinating stop being lazy stop asking questions you spreads know the answers to

And for the love of God

STOP ASKING ME TO ENTER FOR YOU!!!!!!!!!

I’m doing what I can to help you all manifest

But it’s YOUR job to make it happen

Y’all used my kindness against me and it’s pissing me off I’m tired of people not even asking anymore

Just begging me

I AM NOT A MAGICIAN

I was literally YOU

not too long ago

I am a nice person but I am at my limits

Stop repeating questions

Look at my page for the answers you need

Stop asking me to enter for you

If it’s not happening

DM me for ADVICE

I used to be the kid that got asked by others to do their homework for them

If I didn’t put my foot down

Y’all were gonna drive me insane

Literally

I love y’all but stop depending on me

Just ask

For advice

But stop treating me like a Genie

And I manifested for someone and it doesn’t work

Then what

Am I a liar now???

Am I fake??

Like are you serious

Bruh I’m serious when I say

I’ve had enough

Read this story to see how YOU CAN ALSO

Transform your life

I literally went from

TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️

I went from slitting my own wrists and going in my closet trying to hang myself EVERY FUCKING NIGHT

I used to stare in the mirror

Crying about how my body looked

I used to go to school scared because I was getting abused by guys there and bullied by girls

All my friends turned their backs on me and I literally said

FUCK IT

I don’t deserve this fucking life so you know what I did????

I changed it

It’s so easy it’s insane

I too over complicated it

I too was desperate

But your desires are yours

They just are

Ignore them MF negative thoughts

Matter of a fact don’t even call it that

You are giving your “intrusive” thoughts power by saying they are negative

Don’t label them as intrusive thoughts

THEY DO NOT EXIST

THEY WILL NEVER MANIFEST

And I’m not just saying that it’s true

It’s soooo fucking true

By labeling them as “intrusive” or “negative” you’re giving them power

To take over and control your life

When this is not what you want

Don’t fear your own head

Bitch it’s YOUR BRAIN

It can’t NOT listen to you

Change your goddamn assumptions

You are a bad bitch you’re hot beautiful

You’re THAT bitch

Bad bitches don’t beg we make shit happen

Get off your cute ass and go get your dream fucking life

Bitch you can have it all

You can marry Shawn Mendez

Be the sexiest model on the planet (but you’re only 5’3) OK ANDDDDD

Marissa Rose is the first 4’11 runway model

You mean to tell me it’s not possible???

They have plus size models

Shirt models

Models with tig ol biddies

Models with tattoos models with piercings models with scars etc

ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE

You can get a call back from that job

Better yet fuck 9 to 5s

Bitch YOU ARE RICH

You are literally Jeff Bezos

Don’t manifest “small shit” cuz if you can get an apartment and a job

You can also manifest $100 million and 2500 square feet mansion

You can have superpowers

You can be a master manifestor

You can become a celebrity and overnight

You can meet your favorite celebrities at awards shows

You can sit next to Ice Spice at the Grammys

EVEN SHE MANIFESTED HER DREAM LIFE

There’s proof in her old tweets and in your interviews

YOU CAN HAVE HARRY STYLES TICKETS FOR WHENEVER HE DECIDES TO DROP AN ALBUM

YOU CAN BE THE NEXT BEYONCÉ

YOU CAN MEET OR EVEN PERFORM WITH TAYLOR SWIFT

YOU CAN HAVE ALL THE MONEY YOU WANT

YOU CAN SHIFT TO ANOTHER REALITY AND MEET MICHAEL JACKSON

YOU CAN HAVE THE SINGING VOICE OF AALIYAH OR MF MARIAH CAREY

YOU CAN MANIFEST THAT YOUR DOG NEVER DIED OR THAT

YOUR EX STILL MISSES YOU

KANYE WEST MANIFESTED KIM K

TOM HOLLAND MANIFESTED ZENDAYA

YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOU CANT HAVE

MICHAEL B JORDAN WAITING ON YOU HAND AND FOOT????

YOU CAN ENTER THE VOID MANIFEST YOUR Sp

AND WAKE UP NEXT TO YOUR CRUSH

YOU CAN MANIFEST BEING IMMUNE TO BAD SHIT BEING A GODDESS BEING SO BEAUTIFUL THAT PEOPLE FORGET MEGAN FOX EXISTS

YOU CAN MANIFEST LOOKING LIKE MARILYN MONROE

OR MADISON BEER

YOU CAN MANIFEST TALENT

BITCH ITS ALL POSSIBLE

You OWN THIS SHIT THIS IS YOUR LIFE BOO

Go fucking get it!!!!!!!

SUCCESS STORY

I was tired of own shit so I used the method that I created

I already posted it

Go read it

Here’s what I manifested

1. SP

I manifested a girlfriend because I’m bisexual asf

And I created her on my phone

Just write if list of what she looks and acts like

I manifested my dream career

I manifested platonic SPs

As in friendships

Money

A strong intuition

More knowledge

A better self concept

Immunity

The ability to hypnotize with my eyes(OK I HAVENT TESTED THIS OUT BUT IM EXCITED TO)

Meeting a celebrity

Can’t say who but I manifested it for the future

I even got pets now!!! A puppy two kittens and two snakes!!

I manifested lots of cool talents

I improved my dancing!!!!!!

I was insecure about my voice

So I changed it

Deadass I sound kinda sexy now

I wanted a whispery ass voice😭😭

So I got oneeee

I also manifested a LOT of personal stuff that I won’t share

Unfortunately I’m SUPER protective of my soul and just overall self

And I’m not posting a face reveal

This might seem surprising to most

My passive aggressive behavior but this is literally how I am daily

I really am nice but y’all just make me ANXIOUS

But still

I love you darlings soooo much

Like for real

But please just pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Don’t make me your wish granter

Make your own wishes come true

If it’s cool with y’all

I’ll manifest tonight

That entering the void will be easy for you guys

But you HAVE to do it yourself I can only guide you

You got this babe

If you got offended it’s working

That means you needed this

Take this tough love and go use it for good

I better see some goddamn success stories this month or we gon fight

(Not literally that’s just my humor talking)

Love you bitches

Now go meditate before I appear under your bed tonight and yank yo shit

Love youuuu💗💗💗💗💗

#void state #law of assumption #law of attraction #void #law of manifestation #manifesting #manifesation #subliminals #loassblog #loassumption #loa tumblr #loa blog #loa success #loablr #success story #reality shifting #desired reality #guided meditation

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girlgenius1111 · 28 days

Text

someone who loves you wouldn't do this

the fourth and final chapter of family line solstråle faces some more challenges and makes some important decisions. angst. like angst... but then fluff :) cw: more of the same... poor mental health on sol's part.

it must be said that this chapter would be absolutely NOTHING compared to what it is now without @wileys-russo. for every comment you leave on this, YOU BEST leave bailey something telling her thank you, too :)

------

“Solstråle… that is just… wood. Your bed would just be on some wooden slats on the ground.”

You beamed at your sister. “I KNOW. It’s so cool. It’s like camping. But with a comfy mattress, and it’s oversized, so I don't need a nightstand, it’s like a built-in shelf! It'll go so well with my new map because the wood is the same as the frame and…”

Ingrid didn’t need to hear your reasoning; the excitement on your face was more than enough for her. She would have bought you anything, no matter how hideous, just to keep seeing this joy on your face. This alleged bed frame wasn’t even that bad; it was woodsy and earthy and the precise thing you loved.

The bed frame was the final thing you’d needed. Ingrid had come in with a gameplan, because of course she had, and you had systematically made your way through the store.

You’d seemed unsure at first, and very hesitant to really pick anything out. Mapi, meanwhile, was too excited to see that she was overwhelming you. After the 8th time you’d said the words, “I don’t know, do you like it?” your sister knew she had to step in.

Mapi was busy talking your ear off. “OOO what about this dresser? With the matching mirror? Or we could get the other mirror with this dresser and paint the wood framing so it would match. Or we could get-”

Ingrid cut her off. “María, darling, I love you, but take a breath.” You watched amused as Mapi literally took a deep breath at Ingrid’s instruction. “Okay, now go pick out a couple new mugs over there and then come back.”

Mapi nodded enthusiastically, bounding off towards the mugs. “Do not run, María Pilar!” Ingrid shouted after her, smiling to herself when Mapi slowed down to an awkward shuffle.

Your sister turned to you then, a sympathetic look on her face as you regarded her cautiously.

“Which dresser do you want?”

“I don’t-”

“No. Which dresser do you want?” Ingrid insisted.

You shrugged, looking away from your sister, and inexplicably starting to tear up. You didn't want to pick the wrong thing, and you didn’t want to make anyone buy anything for you.

The brunette put her hands on your shoulders, looking down at you insistently. “Listen, Solstråle. I want you to have a space that is yours, with things you pick, and things you like. Let me do this for you? Please?”

You sighed, nodding slowly. “I like that one.” You said softly, pointing at one of the dressers Mapi hadn’t even glanced at.

“Good.” Ingrid said. “MARÍA, come here.”

Mapi returned like a puppy being called back to its owner, with a single mug in her hands. Ingrid had been about to scold her, and tell her to stop hijacking your shopping trip, when Mapi handed out the mug towards you. You took it into your hands, turning it around until the design was facing you.

It was a ceramic mug, painted with a minimalist map of Spain. There was only one marking on the map, signifying Barcelona. It was a little sun, right on the coast, marking your new home.

“Get it? It’s a map. Like the one I got you. And it has a sun. Mapi and Solstråle. Un mapa y el sol.” She joked, clearly thinking you’d laugh, and put the mug back, as it wasn’t normally the sort of thing you’d like.

You grinned at her, though, looking between the Spaniard and your sister, who also had a big smile on her face. “Can I get it?” You asked.

Mapi looked surprised, but Ingrid just kept smiling, knowing instantly that the silly mug meant something because Mapi had seen it, and thought of you. “Of course. María, she picked out a dresser.”

“Which one?” Mapi asked, looking around excitedly.

You’d laughed, shaking your head, and pointing at the one you wanted. Ingrid was a little worried Mapi would jokingly complain that you hadn’t picked one of the ones’ she’d pointed out, and inadvertently make you feel guilty, but Mapi just nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh I didn’t see that one! Good call pequeña!”

You’d looked relieved, Ingrid felt relieved, and Mapi was just happy to be there.

-------

You couldn’t sleep. It felt dumb, laying in your new bed, in your redecorated room, but your mind just wouldn’t turn off. You’d spent the day with Ingrid and Mapi, and they’d done everything right. Everything. Your room felt like your room, now, not just the guest room. Their home felt like your home.

And yet. You were still empty. It wasn’t enough. You weren’t convinced. It didn’t make any fucking sense, because they’d gone out of their way, over and over, to show you that they loved you. That seemed like something that couldn’t be reality, though. You weren’t… loveable. How could you be? You were just you. And that had never been enough, no matter how badly you wanted it to be.

You couldn’t stand laying in bed any longer. It was too soft, too comfortable. It felt too safe, like everything was about to be ripped away from you. The living room was safer. It was so viscerally Ingrid and Mapi’s space. You didn’t have anything to lose down here.

You turned the TV on, appreciating the array of Norwegian options Ingrid was subscribed to, and put on a mindless one. You sat and watched, and tried not to think. You weren’t very successful if the way you jumped when the couch moved next to you was any indication.

“Can’t sleep?” Mapi asked, tucking herself under the blanket you were using.

“Nope.”

“Thinking about how much better you’d sleep in that race car bed we saw? That’s why I'm up.” Mapi replied wistfully, causing you to crack a smile.

“Something like that.” You replied softly. The defender studied you for a moment, before throwing an arm around your shoulder, contact you leaned into, almost on instinct.

A scene came on in the drama that was playing, one which took place in a tattoo shop. Mapi perked up, and you saw an opening to change the subject before your mood could be questioned.

“How old were you when you got your first tattoo?” You questioned.

“18. It was this one.” Mapi said excitedly, holding out her arm to point at the partially covered up tattoo. “I covered it kind of a couple years later. Would you ever get a tattoo?”

You weren’t a bad liar, but for some reason, you didn’t feel like lying to Mapi. She felt like a judgment free zone, in a way your sister didn’t. “I have one.”

Mapi looked at you in surprise. “You do? Where? What is it? When did you get it? How did you get it?” The law in Barcelona was that you could get one at 16 without parental consent, but Mapi hadn’t known when you would have done it.

You laughed at her rapid fire questions. “I got it in Norway. It was a stick and poke, I don’t even remember getting it, I was blacked out.”

Mapi tried to school her features, but you could sense her disapproval anyway. It wasn’t for the reason you expected, though. “Someone gave you a stick and poke while you were blacked out?” She asked evenly.

You just shrugged. “I asked for it, apparently.”

It was quiet for a moment while the defender tried to act like that didn’t upset her.

“What is it?” You blushed, then, and Mapi cracked a smile. “Tell me, tell me. I won’t tell your sister.”

Instead of telling, you showed her, pulling your shirt up so your rib was exposed.

So the 23 clearly inked into your skin was visible.

Mapi’s touch was delicate when she traced over it, a small smile on her lips.

“23, huh?”

You shrugged. “It was the only thing I asked for, apparently. I couldn’t remember the number, I was so drunk, but I made someone google what it was, and then… got it.”

“That’s really sweet.” Mapi said quietly.

“Hope she doesn’t change her number.” You said quickly, trying not to linger on the sentimentality of it all.

“Eh. You can always turn it into something else. Tattoo cover ups aren’t that expensive.” Mapi said casually, knowing exactly who was just a few steps from the family room. Sue her if she wanted to see Ingrid’s reaction to your tattoo.

“Tattoo? TATTOO? You have a tattoo, solstråle?” Ingrid asked, practically falling into the room. You tensed, suddenly terrified that this would be it. She’d make you leave after this. But while ingrid looked a little stern, she didn't seem angry. Still, you were a bit frozen still, and Mapi took her opportunity.

“Stick and poke. Got it while blackout drunk.” She said, holding up a hand for you to high five, despite clearly disapproving minutes earlier. Apparently, Mapi only needed to be a protective adult in Ingrid’s absence. You high fived her, allowing yourself to smile a bit, though you shot your sister a nervous glance.

Ingrid pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers, sighing heavily and sitting on the couch.

“Alright. Let me see it.” You sat up to lift the side of your shirt again, stopping when she threw a hand over her eyes. “Wait, no. Is it bad? Is it a bad word? Is it a vagina?” You and Mapi collapsed into giggles, and Ingrid rolled her eyes, removing her hand from her face. “Oh grow up, both of you. Let me see, solstråle.”

A bit smugly, now, you showed her the tattoo, watching carefully as her face morphed from apprehension, to surprise, to… emotion. Ingrid was tearing up.

“Oh my god, don’t cry, please, Ingrid,” you begged, sitting up and looking at your sister anxiously. Mapi was shaking with silent laughter next to you, and Ingrid was waving her hands in front of her face frantically.

“I’m not crying, I’m not. I’m just- tattoos are bad. Really bad. You shouldn’t have that. Tattoo. Of my number. On your body forever. My baby sister,” She trailed off, biting her lip when it began to tremble.

“Ingrid,” you complained, looking away uncomfortably.

“Ven aqui, princesa,” Mapi said quietly, pulling Ingrid into her side, though she was still smiling. Ingrid took a few calming breaths resting against her girlfriend, staying silent even though she had a million things to say. Her girlfriend took the opportunity to break the ice, seeing as though you looked to be on the verge of bolting out of the room. “ You know what would look good, solstråle? A 4, on the other side.” She suggested with a grin.

Ingrid sat bolt upright. “NO! No more tattoos. María, I swear to god.”

Mapi laughed, throwing her hands up in the air. “I’m just kidding, princesa, relax! God you sound like Alexia when I joked that I was going to tattoo Fresa when she was 12. I thought Ale was going to hit me.”

“I might hit you.” Ingrid mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at her girlfriend.

“Nah. I’m too hot for that.” Mapi said confidently, leaning in to kiss her girlfriend’s cheek. Ingrid fought a smile and you turned away with a grimace on your face.

“Well. I’m going to bed. Please, keep the volume down, I don’t wish to be scarred this evening.” You said, walking briskly out of the room, ignoring Mapi’s cackle, and Ingrid’s gasp.

“We don’t have sex! We don’t! Abstinence is key!” Ingrid shouted after you, sighing heavily when she heard you laugh from the stairs. She turned to Mapi with a defeated look on her face.

“Nicely done, princesa.” Mapi teased.

Ingrid groaned, collapsing against her girlfriend. “She laughed a lot today. Like really laughed.” Ingrid commented after a minute.

Mapi ran her fingers through Ingrid’s loose hair. “I know. It was nice. She’s making progress, mi amor. You’re doing really well.”

Ingrid smiled shyly into the Spaniard, privately thinking that she’d do a lot worse without Mapi around to help. It takes a village, she supposed.

-------

You hadn’t quite drifted off when you heard your bedroom door open quietly. You were half asleep, too sleepy to open your eyes, assuming that either Ingrid or Mapi were putting something in your room you’d forgotten downstairs. You cracked an eye open after a second when you heard a noise closer to your bed, and saw your sister picking up Snø, who had fallen off your bed. She turned towards you, and for some reason, you shut your eyes before she could see they were open.

You pretended to be asleep. You weren’t sure why.

You were glad you had, though, when you felt Snø placed just next to your face, felt the covers pulled up a little until they were just under your chin, and felt Ingrid press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“God natt solstråle, jeg elsker deg,” she whispered, before quietly creeping back out of the room.

You were wide awake now, opening your eyes as soon as you heard the door shut. You weren’t quite sure what you were so upset about. Ingrid tucking you in had felt safe and loving and warm. Those were all good feelings… so why did it feel like a part of your chest was caving in on itself?

It was just… where had Ingrid learned to do that? You couldn’t, for the life of you, remember your parents doing anything similar with you. Even when you were young, putting you to bed consisted of them standing in the doorway while you got under the covers, and them bidding you a goodnight. Had it not been like that for Ingrid?

The more you thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. Of course it hadn’t been like that for Ingrid. She had been intentional, wanted. She was their favorite. They loved Ingrid in a way they never loved you. Of course they tucked her in, and kissed her forehead, and told her they loved her. Words you hadn’t heard from either of them in a long time. Ingrid got everything you always craved, and you couldn’t even really be that mad about it. Because if anyone deserved the absolute best the world had to offer, it was your sister.

You cried yourself to sleep that night, quietly muffling your sobs in your pillow. It was a sadness that plagued you, mixed with hope. Your parents didn’t love you, you were pretty sure of that. But it seemed like, maybe, Ingrid did.

-------

The following day was a match day. Well, not for Mapi, obviously, but it was an important league match for the team, and for Ingrid, and you were actually looking forward to going.

You woke up well rested in your bedroom, warm sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the blinds. You looked around when you woke up, a bit confused at the transformation it had undergone. It was cozy, and you relished laying in bed for a bit, not in any rush to leave this newly comforting space. It felt like home, and thought that still scared you, it wasn’t as terrifying in the daylight. Everything was always better in the morning.

And though the morning was good, the afternoon only went downhill.

You’d disappeared up to your room to get some homework done before you were set to leave for the game, and Mapi and Ingrid were lounging downstairs, watching a WSL match. Ingrid was ignoring the repetitive texts from her mother. After another one buzzed her phone, quickly followed by a sharp ring as her mom resorted to calling her, Ingrid flipped her phone over with a heavy sigh, turning to hide her face in the crook of Mapi’s neck. The Spaniard frowned sadly, wrapping her arms tight around the Norwegian, softly rubbing her back.

“I love you.” Mapi whispered, not really sure what to say, but figuring that those words couldn’t hurt. Ingrid whispered them back, feeling a bit braver now, before pulling away and reaching for her phone again.

“I don’t know what to say to her. I don’t want to talk to her right now, but she can tell something is wrong. I never ignore her like this.”

“You’re not ready to talk. Just say that.” Mapi suggested. Ingrid thought for a few moments, before slowly nodding and beginning to type a response.

Please stop calling. I am focused on Solstråle right now. You’ve really hurt her, and neither of us are ready to talk to you yet. Please respect that.

Ingrid showed Mapi before hitting send, an apprehensive look on her face.

“Perfect, amor.” Mapi assured her, watching as Ingrid hit send and snuggled back up against her girlfriend. She felt the words more than she heard them when Mapi spoke into her ear. “I am proud of you. You’re doing the right thing for your sister, and I know it’s hard, but you’re doing so well, mi princesa. I’m so proud of you.”

Ingrid blushed heavily, but smiled to herself. She wasn't sure why, but it suddenly felt like things might be okay from here on out. She would be wrong.

-------

You shouldn’t have answered the phone. You should have known better. You couldn't help the hope that bloomed inside of you when you saw your mom’s name on the caller ID as your phone rang, though. You answered the phone.

“You’re ruining our family.” She ruined it first.

“You’ve made my daughter hate me.” You’re her daughter too.

“Ingrid doesn’t want you there. She’s not your parent, I am.” Ingrid says she wants you here. And Ingrid acts more like a parent than she ever has.

“If I'd known how much trouble you’d be, I wouldn’t have bothered with having you.” Sometimes you wish she hadn’t bothered with it.

“You cause more trouble than you’re worth, and one day Ingrid will see that. And I won’t be here to take you back.” You were a lot of trouble, weren’t you? Your mom was right. One day, Ingrid and Mapi would reach the point she had. And you’d have nowhere else to go.

Your thoughts only spiraled from there. You hung up the phone without saying a word, letting it fall to the ground. You curled into yourself and thought. Thought hard. Until your mind felt like a prison you were locked in, and you weren’t sure how to get out. Until the room disappeared around you, and all you felt was hatred. Not towards your mother. But towards yourself.

-------

You wouldn’t look at Mapi. You wouldn’t move. You didn’t even really seem to know she was there. You sat with your knees pulled to your chest on the floor by your bed, a vacant look in your eyes.

“Come on, pequeña, come back. I’m right here, you’re safe.” Mapi said softly, careful not to touch you. She’d come to ask you if you’d be ready to go in an hour, wanting to leave at the same time as Ingrid and spend time with the team as they got ready in the locker room. She’d found you like this, making yourself as small as possible against your bed. You looked tiny, and Mapi spoke quietly, delicately, trying to coax you back to her.

Still, even her soothing words didn’t bring you out. And she knew she needed to get Ingrid, even as she knew that Ingrid would freak out.

She stepped away from you, leaning into the hall and calling quietly towards her room, where your sister was.

“Ingrid, come here please.” She said, as calmly as she could. Ingrid appeared in the hall, walking towards your room as she fiddled with the braid in her hair.

“What’s up?” She asked, following Mapi into your room. “Solstråle?” She looked between you and her girlfriend in confusion.

“I think she’s a little out of it right now. I’m not sure what happened, I found her like this.” Mapi explained, trying her best to not make Ingrid panic.

Ingrid sat down next to you, grabbing your hand. When you didn’t even flinch, she looked at Mapi in horror.

“María, what do we do?”

“She’s all right, amor. She just needs a bit.” Mapi reassured, sitting down on your other side.

“I… I don’t understand, what happened?”

“I don’t know, mi amor. Something probably upset her. She’s very vulnerable right now.” Mapi replied, before pausing briefly. “Do you remember when I withdrew from camp for the first time? I got like this. I was okay, I just needed some time, and my brain was trying to protect itself. Solstråle is okay, she just needs the same.”

Ingrid nodded slowly, because she did remember. That was different, though, that was… a traumatic experience for her girlfriend. And whatever was happening with you right now, this couldn’t be a reaction to a traumatic experience. Yes, you were struggling, and yes, the last couple years had been hard, but you weren’t… traumatized?

As Ingrid sat and waited for you to come back to her, though, she realized that you were. If she put herself in your position, she couldn’t see how you could have come out of everything not traumatized. The marks your parents had left on you ran deeper than Ingrid had realized. And there wasn’t anything she could do to fix them unless you let her.

“María,” Ingrid said quietly, a desperate plea for some reassurance as minutes passed and nothing changed, as she stared into your eyes and you didn't react.

“I know, cariño, but she’s okay. She’s okay, I promise. Just try to stay calm.”

Ingrid wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay calm. Especially when she glanced at her phone and saw it was several minutes past the time she was supposed to leave for the match. “Can you call Ale? And tell her I can’t come?”

Mapi was nodding before Ingrid finished her sentence, standing and stepping out of the room. The phone only rang once before Alexia picked up, her reassuring voice calming Mapi, who was pretending to be a lot less panicked than she felt.

“Hola.”

“Ingrid and I can’t come.” Mapi said simply.

“What’s going on? Are you both okay?” Alexia asked with concern. Ingrid wouldn’t just miss a match she was supposed to be starting. Not unless something was wrong.

“It’s her sister, she’s not… well right now. We have to stay here with her. Ale, I’m really sorry,” Mapi said, cutting herself off before she got choked up. She wasn’t an emotional person but seeing you like this, seeing Ingrid so upset, and hearing her best friend’s voice over the phone… she couldn’t help it.

“No, don’t be sorry. Family first, always. I’ll talk to Jona. Do you need anything? Can I help?” Alexia asked. Hearing Mapi cry was always unsettling, because it happened so rarely.

“No, we’ve got it. Thank you, Ale, really.” Mapi said back, clearing her throat.

They said goodbye, and Mapi walked back into the room, raising her eyebrows when she saw Ingrid on your phone.

“She talked to Mom. Like 20 minutes ago, she answered a call from Mom.” Ingrid stated. “Could that…”

Mapi took her spot back next to you, absentmindedly taking your hand in hers. You gave it the faintest of squeezes, but the Spaniard didn’t want to put any pressure on you, so she said nothing. “It could be that. It makes sense. A lot of this seems to have to do with your mom. I don’t know what she said on the phone, but… it probably wasn’t good.”

Ingrid sat with that information for a bit, startling slightly when you slumped into her. Carefully, she lowered you so your head was in her lap. You seemed a little more aware, now, but still nowhere near normal. Softly, she began to pull your hair out of the braid it was in, combing it back away from your face.

“Our Mom did this to her.” She said evenly. Mapi rested her chin on Ingrid’s shoulder, nodding slightly. “I am never letting that woman near Solstråle again. I don’t care what I have to do. She’s been hurt enough. I won’t let her be hurt anymore.”

It didn’t matter that Mapi had come to this conclusion a couple days ago. It mattered that Ingrid was there now, and Ingrid was going to keep you safe.

You heard what Ingrid said. Your ears still worked, you were just a bit… out of it. You heard what she had told her girlfriend. And as she sat above you, relaxing you with every touch of her fingers to your scalp, you knew that you were failing at the rules you’d set yourself years ago.

Don’t get attached. Don’t expect anything from anyone. Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t listen when people tell you they love you; they almost never mean it.

You were trusting, again. Just a little bit, piece by piece, and you knew that it would take time before you healed fully, before you trusted fully. Very quickly, though, you were losing the will to be independent, losing the will to be strong. You didn’t want to have to be strong anymore. And you were beginning to think you didn’t need to be.

Of course, healing isn’t linear. Nothing is that easy. So even as you slowly sat up off your sister, and inquired as to why she wasn’t at her game, some part of you knew something else would go wrong. It had happened too many times for you not to know any better. There was still a hesitation when you leaned into the hug your sister offered, as she explained that you were more important than football. There was still hesitation when she asked what had happened. You told her the fewest details possible, which she clearly wasn’t happy with. You were still holding yourself back, somewhere in the middle of healed and broken. It was almost a race to see who could get to you first. It would either be Mapi and Ingrid to reach you, to put you back together. Or it would be the trauma and pain that pulled you backwards, back to the version of yourself you hated. Breaking you for good.

------

The answer would come in the form of a knock on the front door, later that day. After you’d gotten up off the floor of your bedroom, and returned to pretending to be okay. You were in the garage with Mapi, working on the bike, while Ingrid cooked dinner. You were loosening up a bit, and Mapi could tell you were getting closer to telling her what your mom had said on the phone.

Your sister answered the door, thinking maybe it would be one of their teammates, coming to check on them after her rather abrupt withdrawal from the match.

When Ingrid opened the door, though, it wasn’t her teammate on the front porch. It was your father.

-------

Your father, who was significantly less at fault than your mom, but still complicit in how you’d been treated. Your father, who always worked too much to really have a say in anything regarding your life. Your father, who you’d always felt closer to, always trusted more.

Your father, who loved you more than he’d ever admit.

Ingrid knew what he was there for the minute she saw his face. She was proven right when she got you and Mapi from the garage and brought you into the family room. When he began to talk and explain what he wanted, began to try to convince you to come home.

“I know Mom messed up. We both have, really. Our home isn’t the same without you though, Solstråle. I officially retired yesterday, which is why I wasn’t here sooner. I want to make things right. We weren’t good parents, but I’m here now, my darling. I want you to come back home. We can fix things with your mom. We can fix things at your school, get you back with your friends. We can be a family again.”

We can be a family again. A few months ago, maybe that would have gotten you home. Maybe the temptation of your friends and Norway and the promise of being loved would have worked. Things were different now, though. You felt like you had a family here, or that you could.

You’d always had a better relationship with your Dad. He loved all the outdoorsy activities you did, and though he’d been busy with work practically your whole life, the little time you spent together was always nice. Him retiring would ensure one sane person was home with you, that it wouldn’t just be you and your mom. And maybe you would have said yes, if you hadn’t seen the fear in Ingrid’s eyes, and decided it was because she wanted you to stay. She wanted you here, you told yourself. You wanted to be where you were wanted. And that wasn’t Norway, not with your mom.

“No.” you said simply.

“Solstråle,” your father began, with an exasperated sigh.

“No. I appreciate you coming here, and I appreciate you caring but it’s too late. It’s not enough, and it’s too late. Mom doesn’t want me home. She made that clear on the phone today. I don’t want to be where I’m not wanted. I don’t want to go back to Norway.”

Next to you, Mapi, who had been silent this whole time, squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

Your Dad shifted uncomfortably in his seat. You got the idea he thought this would be easier, which made sense. You hadn’t put up any fight when they’d sent you to Spain, and your Dad hadn’t expected any fight now.

“Take a day or two. Think about it. For me?”

Ingrid and Mapi wanted to snap that you didn’t owe him anything and he was in no place to ask you for anything, but they didn’t want to cause any more conflict than was necessary. Besides, you could handle yourself.

“I’ve made my decision but if you want to hear me repeat myself in two days, that’s fine.” You said calmly. Ingrid bit back a laugh, but Mapi smiled openly.

Your Dad didn’t seem phased, to his credit. “I’d like to talk to you both. Alone.” He directed that at the older girls, and you took the opportunity to flee upstairs, far away from the man that was… doing nothing but confusing you about your feelings towards your parents.

Your Dad didn’t stay for much longer, giving your sister a little speech about encouraging you to “make the right decision,” and why the right thing would be sending you home with him.

It left your sister with a bit to think about, her parents often making her rethink her decisions. Mapi could sense this turmoil, but she didn’t say anything, knowing Ingrid would come to her. Ingrid was completely silent as her and Mapi went to clean up the kitchen from dinner, allowing you space and time upstairs to process.

After a few minutes, though, Ingrid spoke up.

“Are you sure we’re making the right decision?” Ingrid asked, turning to Mapi as she finished putting away the dishes.

“We aren’t making a decision. Your sister is.” Mapi reasoned. “Besides, Ingrid, you said it yourself. Solstråle shouldn’t be around your mom. There are no real, tangible reasons why she shouldn’t stay here.”

“My dad had a couple.” Ingrid said skeptically.

“Okay. Why should Solstråle go back to Norway?” Mapi asked, taking a seat at the counter across from her girlfriend. Ingrid sighed, and began to list off the reasons her father had given her.

It was, of course, at this moment that you came down the stairs to fill up your water. This moment, the worst possible moment, as Ingrid tried to convince herself that you should stay, while inadvertently convincing you that she didn’t want you to stay. You froze in the hall, just out of sight, after hearing your name when Mapi asked her question. It was a miracle you stayed silent and on your feet, as every fear you still harbored about being a burden to Ingrid and Mapi was, apparently, proved to be true.

“She doesn’t have friends here. She doesn’t speak Spanish very well. We’re both busy athletes, and she is… not easy. We’d have our hands full. We are young, and we aren’t her parents. I’m her sister, not her mom. She needs help, and I’m not sure how to convince her to get it. My mom and dad can get her back on track better than I can.”

Ingrid was simply restating what her father had said. None of it she agreed with, none of it felt true. You didn’t hear her tell Mapi that, though. No, you quietly crept back upstairs, and sat on your bed numbly. Your stupid bed that she’d bought for you. In the stupid room she’d redecorated. With the absurd presents she’d gotten you. All of it wasn’t true. All of it was a lie. She didn’t want you here, how could you have ever let yourself be convinced that she did? Just like that, with only a few sentences overheard, every ounce of trust you’d begun to place in your sister had evaporated. They were downstairs, talking about how they didn’t want you, after spending so long lying and saying they did.

It should have been confusing, this contradiction. But it wasn’t, because you’d spent your whole life feeling unwanted. And what is a few days of being told something against 18 years of being told something the complete opposite? Your mom had been right. Ingrid had come to her senses. You weren’t wanted here. Your Dad said he wanted to fix things, and though that was hardly believable to you, you’d go back. Maybe you weren’t wanted anywhere, but you’d go back to Norway, where no one cared what you did as long as you didn��t get in trouble. You supposed they didn’t really care here, either, they’d just been pretending to. It had all been an act, probably to spare your feelings, but an act nonetheless. You ignored that it didn’t make sense. You pretended that the complete contradictions in what they’d been telling you and how they’d been acting didn’t exist. Because you’d rather convince yourself then be convinced by them. You’d rather hurt yourself than let them hurt you first. You’d take the first step. You’d make it easy, and you’d go.

Very suddenly, you couldn’t stand to be in this house, this room for a second longer. You pulled out your phone, and told your dad you’d reconsidered. You took a few calming breaths, preparing yourself to rid your sister of the burden that was taking care of you, apparently. You shouldn’t be surprised by this. You'd been right, the whole time, to not trust her when she said she wanted you here. She didn’t. Of course she didn’t.

Doubt swirlied around in your head. Nothing made sense, nothing made any sense. There had always been one constant in your life, though. And that was being unwanted. Ingrid didn’t want you. Ingrid couldn’t want you. It was too good to be true.

You stomped down the stairs, hearing Ingrid and Mapi’s voices grow quiet upon your approach. You assumed they’d been talking about you, and they had. About finding you a therapist. Not about wanting you to go.

You entered the kitchen, startling both girls with the hard look on your face. “I’m going back to Norway.” You asked, voice monotone, but shaking dangerously as you regarded your sister and her girlfriend.

“What?” Ingrid asked, thinking she must have misheard you.

“I am going back to Norway. I texted Dad.” You turned to leave, but Mapi grabbed your wrist, spinning you back around.

“What the hell are you talking about?” She asked. You could only glare at her.

“You said you wanted to stay, solstråle, I don’t understand…” Ingrid said, trailing off.

“You don’t want me here, Ingrid, and I don’t want to be here.”

“Of course we want you here,” Ingrid began, growing more and more confused with each venomous word that you spewed at her.

You wrenched your arm out of Mapi’s grasp and stepped towards your sister, your outstretched hand connected with her chest as you shoved her backwards.

“Oye!” Mapi shouted, getting in between the two of you. You were beside yourself with rage, suddenly. Why had she lied? Why had she gotten your hopes up?

“No. You. Don’t. Stop lying, both of you.” You pushed Mapi away from you then, ignoring the angry tears that had begun to well in your eyes. “You don’t want me here, you think I’d do better in Norway. I don’t speak Spanish, I don’t have any friends, I’m too much work, you are young and you don’t need a teenager to take care of. I’m mean and quiet and stubborn and my own fucking mother doesn’t love me. I heard you earlier Ingrid, you don’t need to lie. I’m used to it. You don’t want me. Stop pretending you do.”

At some point during your speech, Mapi and Ingrid understood what had happened. You’d overheard something out of context, clearly. And it was evident that you’d reverted back to your original belief that they didn’t want you. It hurt them, how easily you’d been convinced. And suddenly, they weren’t confused and they weren’t angry that you’d pushed them. Their faces softened, and they inched closer to you and you hated it. Because everything inside of you was screaming to believe what you knew what they were about to say, to let yourself fall into their arms, for good this time. To trust them.

You couldn’t. You couldn’t be hurt again. It would kill you.

You stepped backwards, and both girls stopped moving. It was Ingrid that spoke first, her voice low and soothing.

“Solstråle, I don’t believe any of that. Dad said all that, to try to convince us to let you go back to Norway. We want you here. I know it’s hard for you to believe us, honey, but we do. More than anything, we want you to stay.”

You shook your head frantically, teardrops hitting the floor under you. “No. No.”

Mapi nodded, stepping a bit closer. “Yes, mi sol. We want you here. We love you, and we want you to stay.”

“No, stop!” You shouted. Ingrid was crying now, and you tried not to care. “You don’t mean that, you can’t mean that. Please, stop lying, this is too confusing, and it hurts too much, please. Just let me go.”

You didn’t mean you wanted them to let you go back to Norway. You wanted them to let you go. The tension in the air thickened at this, as both of them realized what you meant.

“No. I won’t do that. You’re staying here, with me. Here, where you are loved, and wanted. You’re not going anywhere, you aren’t allowed to.” Ingrid said, carelessly wiping a tear off her cheek as she stepped closer to you.

Mapi stepped closer, too. “Nena, I promise you. On everything I love. On my parents, on football, on Ingrid. I want you to stay. Please.” The emotion in the defender’s voice startled you, and very suddenly, all of the fight had gone out of you, all of the anger.

You wiped your eyes like a child. Because really, that was the part of you crying. “Why?” You cried. “Why do you want me? No one wants me.”

Mapi shook her head, for once at a loss for what to say, as Ingrid let out a rough sob at your words. “How could we not? You’re my baby sister, Solstråle. You are kind, funny, and caring. You’re a good person, honey. You are good, and we love you.”

It was quiet as you heaved in a few breaths, looking between both girls as you tried to decide what was true and what was false. And, ultimately, when you made your decision, it was because you were too tired to do anything else. Too exhausted of hating yourself to continue punishing yourself. Too exhausted of not letting yourself believe that you were worthy of love. Because you craved it, so deeply inside of you. And as much as you didn’t want to, and as much as you wished you didn’t care, you did.

You are good, Ingrid had said. And if you were good, you could let yourself be loved.

“Do you promise?” You asked, your voice cracking at the same time Ingrid and Mapi felt their hearts break for the 10th time today, at how completely disbelieving you sounded.

“I promise.” Ingrid said. You looked between her and Mapi silently, and Ingrid took a hesitant step towards you, before Mapi pulled her back, shaking her head slightly. You needed to go to them. You needed to decide, all by yourself.

It was the desperation in your sister’s voice that really got you, the tears in her eyes. And maybe it was also the desperation inside yourself, too, and the ache in your heart that you knew you didn’t need to carry anymore. You wrapped your arms tight around your abdomen, and prepared yourself to say the most vulnerable, most terrifying words you had ever said, and might ever say.

“I want to stay with you guys.”

The words were barely out of your mouth before you were being squished into Ingrid’s arms, Mapi’s quickly following. Both of them hugged you tight, giving you the comfort you had been trying to give yourself. You didn’t need to do that, anymore. They would do it for you.

You wouldn’t have to do any of the things you’d spent a long time doing alone, alone anymore.

It had been years and years of wishing you had a family that loved you, thinking you’d give anything for a family that cared about you again. It turned out you didn’t need to give anything. You could just… have it. You just deserved it.

-------

def not the end of my girl sol ☀️ we'll see more of her... soon ish :)

hope everyone enjoyed this little series <3 I love and appreciate you all very much

also... i was 🤏 this close to leaving part 4 on a cliffhanger where mr. engen shows up but the second part wouldn't have been long enough and i am much too nice

#woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #engen!reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #🍓☀️

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wileys-russo · 1 month

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i have an idea for leah! r moves to england to be with leah and she helps with her driving since they drive on the left side of the road. during the driving lessons leah is being too bossy and demanding so then r asks someone else (maybe someone from arsenal) for help and leah gets jealous hdhshaa

under strict instruction II l.williamson

"baby are you ready to go? we've only got a certain window of time before training!" leah called upstairs, checking the time on her watch and tapping her foot with an impatient sigh.

"i'm really nervous lee. maybe we just leave it for another day?" you appeared at the top of the stairs, bottom lip clenched between your teeth apprehensively making leah smile.

"come here." your girlfriend opened her arms as you made your way downstairs and melted into them, exhaling into her shoulder.

"you've been putting this off for weeks now. you passed your learners, you've got your permit, you know the road rules, the next step is to get behind the wheel." leah mumbled softly, nudging your chin up with her hand.

"do we have to do it today?" you sighed as leah nodded. "yeah babe, we have to do it today." the blonde confirmed, pecking your lips a few times and mumbling that she loved you before letting go.

"gym bag, go!" leah nodded upstairs as you retreated from her warm and strong hold, glancing at the defender over your shoulder with a scowl as she smacked your ass on the way up, the girl simply sending you a wink and a wiggle of her fingers.

"heathen." you shot at her playfully before disappearing into the bedroom, grabbing your training bag and returning downstairs. "oh i think i left the straightener on!" you smacked your forehead and tried to go back up them again.

"your hair is braided today gorgeous." leah grabbed your hand with a knowing smirk as you sighed. "fine, lets go!" you muttered with a roll of your eyes, unable to think of anymore excuses having tried to delay the inevitable all morning without much success.

"for your first lesson we'll just go to an empty parking lot baby girl, nice and easy."

it took a little while but you soon realized it was in fact not nice and easy being anything other than in the passenger seat with your girlfriend.

"no! thats reverse. D is for drive!" leah huffed, grabbing your hand on the gear stick and moving it for you. "i thought that was for park!" you huffed back as your girlfriend stared at you blankly.

"love why on earth would D be for park?" leah scoffed throwing her hands up. "i don't know leah this is my first time!" you huffed with a roll of your eyes.

"D is drive, R is reverse, N is neutral, P is park. notice any...common similiarites? like the words that the actions match all start with the letter on the console that they stand for!" your girlfriend snapped, pinching her nose and exhaling.

"stop yelling at me leah i'm nervous!" you snapped back, knuckles turning white as you gripped the steering wheel. "you're nervous? we haven't even fucking moved the car yet babe!" leah groaned dragging her hands down her face as you mumbled something inaudible.

"alright. lets just take a moment, breathe, reset, and go again" leah forced out, both of you pausing to take a breath, your girlfriend moving the gear stick back to P.

"okay. you take the car out of park, move it to drive. keep your foot on the brake until the car is in drive, then very slowly move your foot off the brake and press down gently on the accelerator. keep your left foot away from the pedals, only use your right for the brake and the accelerator." leah spoke a little calmer as you nodded.

"okay." you exhaled shakily, moving the gear stick into D and carefully lifting your foot, pressing down on the accelator. "what the fuck is that!" you panicked as the engine roared and stalled but the car didn't move.

"you left the hand brake on!" leah groaned, head thumping back into the seat. "you didn't tell me to take it off!" you argued back, leah hurrying to shift the car back into park as you slammed your foot bac down on the brake.

"yes i did!" leah snapped with a roll of her eyes. "hand break first, shift gear from P to D, move foot slowly off the brake and onto the accelerator and off we go! its simple and we've been at it for an hour now and we haven't moved at all." leah cried out with a laugh of disbelief as you glared at her.

"do it again. go!" leah ordered as you swallowed the insult on the tip of your tongue, following her instructions only tapping the accelerator much too hard this time as the car shot forward and you panicked, pulling the hand brake up and causing a horrific screech to sound.

"jesus christ you don't pull the hand brake when you're driving babe you're not in a fucking james bond film!" leah yelled, pulling at her hair as you pushed down the hand brake and slammed down on the brakes instead, sending leahs body lurching forward and her head near smacking down on the dash.

"oh my god slowly! do i have to say it in another language? at a different speed? sloooowly." leah mocked condescendingly as your jaw clenched and you yanked up the hand brake.

"i'm done with this leah you are the worst fucking instructor ever!" you snapped, wrestling with the seatbelt, kicking the door open and stepping out as she scoffed. "oh yeah? well you're the worst fucking student ever. you don't listen!" leah jumped out her own side, the two of you swapping.

"don't slam my fucking door!" your girlfriend growled as you raised an eyebrow, opening her door again. "don't. you. dare." leah warned as you suddenly yanked it closed again with a slam and leah gasped, the two of you exploding and yelling at one another back and forth.

"just fucking drive leah we're going to be late!" you cut her off, turning your body forcefully to the side giving her your back as best you could in the car seat as leah scoffed.

"well if you were driving we might make it in time...for pre season next year!" leah mumbled sarcastically, flexing her fingers and grabbing the steering wheel.

"oh look its in park! what should i do? hand brake, shift to D, foot off the brake, onto the accelerator and off we go. how hard!" leah cooed revving her engine and racing out of the carpark as you exhaled shakily and remained facing out the window, a frosty silence encapsulating the space you both occupied.

leah had barely pulled into colney and her car space before your door was flying open, bag snatched from the back and doors slammed yet again. though you were storming angrily away from the blonde before she could even get out of the car to yell at you for it.

"good morning sunsh-" beth barely got her words out before you brushed past her, head dropped and steely look in your face that had her shutting up instantly, exchanging a worried look with steph who was by her side.

"i'm gonna take a wild guess and say thats not some sort of kinky foreplay." beth sighed watching across the carpark as leah seemed to be having an argument with herself, throwing her hands about and kicking at the tyres of her car as her friends wandered over cautiously.

"fucking door slamming, fucking hand brake, fucking shit driver, fucking girlfriend being fucking stupid, fucking can't listen!" leah ranted and raved to herself, shaking her head angrily.

"are you alright leah?" steph spoke up first, slowly as to not startle the blonde too much who grabbed her bag and puffed air out of her nose, flicking her fringe out of her eyes.

"fine." leah huffed, shouldering her bag and pausing, squeezing her eyes closed and forcing herself to take a deep breath. "alright hot head, what happened?" beth chuckled, leah exhaling heavily and launching into a very animated recount of this mornings events as the trio wandered toward the training centre.

you on the other hand still caught up in your own head had barreled right into lia and alessia who were heading to breakfast before the mornings gym session, nearly winding poor alessia who doubled over and wheezed.

"shit sorry less!" you apologized with wide eyes and bright red cheeks, the blonde waving you off with a wince. "where were you off to in such a huff? trouble with your blonde lover perhaps?" lia smiled knowingly, having had a heavy hand in your and leahs coupling up.

from the very first day you'd signed lia hadn't missed the way leahs eyes had glazed over slightly and she'd tuned entirely out of their conversation, watching you walk past and sending you a tiny wave when you smiled warmly at the two of them as you passed.

from that moment on and later finding out you were very single, the swiss woman had made it her mission to get the pair of you together.

and long story cut short, it worked.

"what happened?" lia asked softly, draping an arm around you as her and alessia guided you away to somewhere a little more private to chat. "well, i finally did my first driving lesson." you started, smiling a little at the way both girls cheered proudly.

"it went horribly." you continued on bluntly, their cheers cut off and faces dropping as you sighed and recounted the mornings events. missing leah, beth and steph wander past as leah was still throwing her hands about, too enthralled in her annoyance to notice you as she passed.

"yeah that doesn't sound very successful." alessia winced as you finished with a roll of your eyes. "she's just got no patience! i'm learning, of course i'm going to make silly mistakes and ask questions and forget stuff." you puffed air out of your nose in frustration, alessia moving to rub your back as your head fell to the taller girls shoulder.

"i'm just never going to drive, it was a stupid idea to think i could anyway." you muttered, dismissing both girls protests with a shake of your head and making your way to the change rooms as they let you go, conversing quietly with one another about what to do.

you rolled your eyes as you entered the change rooms and the conversation ceased, clearly having been about you as you made a beeline for your cubby, well aware of the eyes on your back as you did.

"morning!" steph tried to greet you cheerily, though it wasn't enough to clear the air of the awkward tension that you were the hot topic of conversation, or the moody pout sent your way by your girlfriend who was sat at her own cubby.

"oh please, don't stop yapping on my behalf leah." you quipped icily, not waiting around for a response as you grabbed your hoodie and marched out of the change rooms back toward the cafeteria.

"did it just drop about fifteen degrees in here? cause that was cold." katie snickered, kim smacking her arm with a look of disapproval as the irish woman frowned.

"what? i'm only jokin! humour helps in these sorts of situations!" katie tried, kim tugging her out of the room before she could say anything further.

"yapping! the fucking cheek of her." leah huffed, shaking her head and muttering something under her breath as she crossed her arm over her chest, the other girls encouraging she come to breakfast and try to cool off.

though right as she stood and started to follow beth and steph out another two bodies blocked the doorway, a finger poking at leahs chest. "we need to talk, now." lia stated sternly, alessia nodding in backup as beth whistled and steph pulled her swiftly out of the room.

"what did i do!" leah protested as her swiss counterpart pushed her to sit back down on the bench. "why did you upset your girlfriend? leah i did not spend three months meddling about and getting the two of you to fall in love for your big mouth to ruin it!" lia huffed as the blonde scoffed.

"me? i'm not the problem." leah argued firmly with a shake of your head. "oh? then why has your girlfriend just announced she is never driving again?" lia questioned calmly as leah's aggression began to fade fast, alessia humming in agreement.

"she said it was stupid she even thought she could." the younger blonde added on as leah groaned and buried her face in her hands. "maybe i was a little harsh." she admitted quietly after a moment, leaning back and wincing at the sharp looks from both girls stood in front of her.

alessia looked on confused as lia barked out a very harsh string of german toward leah who winced clearly affected by the words. "what?" the striker asked with a frown as leah waved her off.

"i'll tell you when you're older less, be grateful you didn't understand her." her english captain waved off, shrinking away as lia smacked her shoulder for it.

"you have some serious grovelling to do leah."

awhile later you looked up mid mouthful at the handful of bacon dropped onto your plate, your girlfriend sitting down with a charming smile making you roll your eyes unimpressed.

"is that supposed to be an apology?" you swallowed and questioned with a raised eyebrow, leah nodding happily and leaning in for a kiss. though she near choked as instead a piece of said reconciliation bacon was shoved in her mouth, the rest dumped back on her plate as you swiftly stood and moved tables.

"that was you grovelling? christ leah." alessia shook her head at the pathetic efforts as leah huffed and spat out the bacon. "food normally works when she's shitty with me!" the defender frowned, drumming her fingers against the table top.

"did you consider just saying sorry and acknowledging what you did was wrong and clearly upset her?" lia sighed as leah scowled. "i was getting there! she didn't give me a chance." the girl stabbed angrily at her egg whites.

"or maybe you lead with that leah?"

though hard as leah tried you didn't give her the chance all day, avoiding your girlfriend and her attempted apologies like she had some sort of infectious disease you didn't want to catch.

in the gym you were quick to rush over to laura to pair up, the austrian a little shocked at your choice but making no move to shun you despite the pleading glances sent her way by leah, any attempts by laura to raise your girlfriend in conversation swiftly shut down.

you paired up with alessia during pitch training, eyes refusing to meet leahs which followed you like a kicked puppy, inadvertently infuriating you further as poor alessia bore the brunt of that with the footballs which flew at her head in your frustration.

at lunch you made a point of squeezing yourself in between amanda and stina who looked surprised at your company but made no move to complain, happily chatting away with you as leah looked on longingly from a different table.

at the sound of your laughter she deflated even further, stina trying to teach you some swedish and near choking on her food at your awful attempts to pronounce the seemingly easy words, leah pushing away her tray and resting her head on her arms.

"this is truly pathetic." lia mumbled to beth who hummed in agreement, nobody able to engage leah in a conversation as she grew grumpier and grumpier at the lack of you in her life today.

after lunch was media and leah near sprinted to catch up with you, body dropping down into the spare seat by your side as you rolled your eyes and refused to acknowledge her.

but when you also didn't move leah took it as a win, crossing her arms and smiling happily. though it was wiped clean as you suddenly clambered over the seat in front and instead moved a few rows forward to sit in between kyra and vic.

"she's choosing to sit next to kyra over you? oh you're properly in the doghouse mate." beth leaned forward to tut, patting the blondes shoulder sympathetically as leah pushed her hand off and shot her a glare, moody pout glued right back to her face as her eyes bore holes in the back of your head.

come the end of training leah hovered around clearly waiting for you as you took your time, choosing to shower at colney and not at home as usual, yet another sign that leah had properly screwed up, your shared afternoon showers together often the highlight of the older girls day.

when finally you returned, damp hair pushed to one side of your head and in a fresh change of clothes the locker room was near empty, only a handful of the team still lingering about chatting.

armed with the knowledge that she was your ride back home leah took a deep breath and slung her bag over her shoulder, making her way over to your cubby where you sat packing up your things.

"you ready to go?" leah asked softly, hands fiddling nervously with the strap of her gym bag as you only glanced up at her but offered no verbal response, leahs stomach twisting as she sighed heavily.

"baby." she dropped down to her knees in front of you, not a care for the others still present in the room as you glanced at her again and only raised an eyebrow.

"i am really really really sorry for being so impatient and unreasonable this morning, i promise to work on it for next time. can we give it another try? please babe." leah spoke hopefully, hands clasped together.

"there's no need." you brushed her off with a shake of your head as your girlfriend frowned.

"please don't give up on learning just because i royally fucked up our first lesson. as much as i adore my beautiful passenger princess i'll sleep a little easier knowing in an emergency you're able to drive yourself." the blonde attempted a joke, wincing at the frosty silence which followed.

"i'm not giving up." you stated, zipping up your bag and swiftly standing as leah nearly fell back onto her ass but caught herself and also stood. "good. then lets give it another try." the taller girl smiled and offered you the car keys as you shook your head.

"i told you leah, there's no need." you pushed them back toward her as she frowned in confusion. "but i thought that-" she started before you stepped around her and cut her off.

"lia's going to teach me." you announced, the brunette appearing by your side seemingly out of thin air with a smile that you returned, leah's jaw nearly hitting the floor.

"i-you-what!" she spluttered out in disbelief as you shrugged.

"you said it yourself, you're impatient and unreasonable and i can't learn with an instructor like that, so wally is taking me. i'll see you at home." you nodded, lia grinning at the gobsmacked blonde before handing you her car keys and the two of you were off.

"what the fuck just happened?"

"thank you wally, that was much much much better." you breathed a sigh of relief as the swiss woman pulled up outside yours and leahs shared flat with a kind smile. "you will learn in no time lieben. same time tomorrow?" she offered as you eagerly agreed, pulling her into a hug before exiting her car, throwing her a wave and a grin before wandering up the driveway.

you were unable to miss the stroppy blonde sat on the front steps, decked out in a grey tech fleece tracksuit, head covered with a hood as her eyes followed your journey closer and closer to her until you came to a stop at the bottom of the stops.

"hi." leah mumbled, uncrossing her arms as you hummed. "hi." you echoed back, most of your anger from earlier having melted away by now. "i missed you?" leah tried sincerely, offering you a smile as you couldn't help but allow the corners of your mouth to upturn.

"of course you did, its nearly dinner time and you burn water." you chuckled, making your way up the stairs and gently pushing at her hood covered head as leah exhaled a long awaited breath of relief that it seemed you were no longer upset with her as she hurried to follow after you.

the door unlocked you made your way inside, only able to get one shoe off before a body latched onto you from behind, apologies mumbled over and over into your neck as leahs chin hooked over your shoulder.

"its fine, but lia is going to teach me to drive. okay?" you warned firmly, turning your head to meet her gaze as leah nodded. "i love you." leah promised as you wiggled off your other shoe and dropped your bag, turning around in her grip, arms winding around her neck.

"i love you too. even if you are horribly impatient, hot headed, stubborn, unreasonable and a terrible cook." you mumbled against her lips as you drew her in for a kiss.

"hey! this morning had nothing to do with my efforts in the kitchen." your girlfriend pulled away with an offended frown making you smile.

"i know, but it's hardly a lie baby." you teased softly, sweetly pecking her lips a few more times before letting her go, leaving your bag to be taken back upstairs later, wanting to get a head start on dinner.

"whats all this?" you asked in surprise, coming to an abrupt halt at the fort assembled in the middle of your living room, a video game loaded onto the tv and two remote wheels sat side by side on the floor.

"well. i thought since i did so poorly this morning in the actual car we could get a little practice in here together on this game i found, and i can work on my teaching." leah explained, rubbing her arm as your eyes softened.

"you're such a sap." you smiled, wrapping yourself around her in a tight hug as she huffed. "am not." your girlfriend muttered, finger tilting your chin up so she could kiss you softly. "are too, but don't worry i'll make sure to tell everyone." you teased, pinching her cheek as her eyes rolled and she wiggled away from you.

"you are truly so insufferable. i try to do something nice and-" she cut herself off with a huff as you laughed and grabbed at her again, hand on the back of her neck forcing her head down so her mouth pressed against yours.

"come on then, few laps and i'll start dinner." you grabbed her hand and tugged her over to the immaculately made little fort, melting even further at the cosy blankets and pillows set up inside.

"leah!" you squealed as you were tackled down into them, your girlfriend hovering over you with a cheeky grin as her hood fell off and her messy bun clung on for dear life to the top of her head.

"know whats better than a virtual driving lesson?" leah questioned, leaning down so her lips just ghosted yours, fingers interlocking and pinning your hands either side of your head, moving to straddle you properly and you shook your head and her wolfish smirk widened.

"virtual car sex."

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson imagine #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #engwnt

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ms-demeanor · 4 months

Text

*screaming*

*continued screaming*

Okay. So. My introductory Visual C# class.

The professor for that class was Alice. Alice was the person who spoke in the introductory video and the person who we were supposed to email if we had any issues.

But all of the assignments, lectures, and quizzes were written and delivered by Bob. On the youtube channel "Bob's programming academy." The quizzes included Bob's name, like "if you do X will it return the string ProfessorBob, Professor, Bob, or Professor.Bob?"

This class was really frustrating for me because it was structured in such a way that you could easily pass the class with zero knowledge of the subject - it was totally based on quizzes that you could take an unlimited number of times and we *had* weekly programming assignments but they weren't graded so there was no incentive to do them (and look, if I wanted to teach myself programming with no incentives I could fail for several years to do that on my own, I don't need to pay fifty bucks a unit for that; the reason I am in a *class* and am not self-taught is because I need external motivation. That's why I sought out a class).

Also when there *was* a problem with an instruction that was unclear in one of the videos for the assignments, or if I thought I'd done something correctly that was very much incorrect, it wasn't Alice who had created the instructions, it was Bob - in 2017 no less - and I didn't really feel like I could ask Alice for help with an ungraded assignment that she hadn't written.

So. Now. My Python class.

Today is the first day of class. Professor is Charles.

I go to the mandatory attendance quiz and it is word-for-word the same mandatory attendance quiz as the C# class, down to the final question "what is your personal email address so I can keep in contact with you after the semester?"

I look at the syllabus.

Class grade is based on quizzes. We have assignments but none of them are graded. There's no textbook, just a series of videos from Professor Bob's Programming Academy.

So I'd been toying with staying at this school and trying to take more CS classes instead of going to another school, just to try to keep my records easier to manage, but since it seems like that *ENTIRE DEPARTMENT* is five Professor Bobs in a trenchcoat, I will probably be going somewhere else (and once again trying to force myself to do projects that I already know are *good for me to do* but *useless for the class and a massive time suck*)

I should drop this class. I should drop this class and apply for the other school so that I can start taking classes there in the spring because if I take this class and then go into the object oriented programming class in the spring and it's another professor bob sock puppet and I end up taking twelve units of programming classes where all I learn is how to google answers in a short time frame (something I already know how to do thanks) I am going to fucking lose it.

Also, again: I have a Bachelor's Degree. I spent five years at a community college when I was getting that degree. I took probably a dozen online classes starting in 2005 and going until 2011 in the process of getting that degree.

THIS bullshit, this "I'm your professor but actually I'm not and all the materials were created by someone else in the department or came directly from the textbook publisher and there is no writing and there are no assignments everything is multiple choice quizzes that are automatically graded" is *dogshit.*

This is NOT how online classes worked back in my day, not even online math classes, and as much as I know adjuncts are getting fucked over by academia in general, this isn't something that these professors should be getting paid as much as they are to do. Alice checked whether or not students turned in a hello world assignment and gave a pass/fail grades for three discussion boards that were responses to youtube videos. Nothing else in the class required her input. If this is the level of instruction that students are getting then the class is already automated and the students shouldn't have to pay for it.

This is crap. This is an incredible level of crap.

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tia-222 · 2 months

Note

The void is The quantum field?

I found out about the void back in november 2023 on pinterest, and I joined tumblr because of it. Last night, I came across a tiktok video with the title "how to know if you're in the quantum field in your joe dispenza meditation". The girl in the video basically said things like: -Being disconnected from your 3D reality, how disconnected you are from the 3d from the meditation. -in order to create from the quantum, you can't be in space time, you have to be in time space. -You can't be trying to create from 3D, you have to be creating from "NOTHINGNESS" -going to your inner world Link to the tt video: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSF1nWtBc/ That's what she said. It hits me when she mentioned the word "nothingness" because the void is basically also the nothingness. The void is being everything and NOTHING at the same time. And I thought does that mean the quantum field and the void are the same thing? so if we do joe dispenza quantum field meditation we can get into the void? So you can simply go into the void/quantum field thru his meditation? I'm not promoting doctor joe dispenza or anything i wouldn't call myself an expert im just someone in the void community. I just thought this could help you guys! Anyway I found some of his quantum meditation on yt: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DwHLLVvPAng&pp=ygUlam9lIGRpc3BlbnphIHF1YW50dW0gZmllbGQgbWVkaXRhdGlvbg%3D%3D https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3PWmCQMKwEw&t=27s&pp=ygUlam9lIGRpc3BlbnphIHF1YW50dW0gZmllbGQgbWVkaXRhdGlvbg%3D%3D https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_Jz7iy7wN0&t=600s&pp=ygUlam9lIGRpc3BlbnphIHF1YW50dW0gZmllbGQgbWVkaXRhdGlvbg%3D%3D I'd recommend doing the first one which is 1h 30mins bc idk it seems better. It may be long but do it for your desire life. Note: English is not my first language, I have never posted sth like this before idk if my explanations is understandable. I just want to share this everyone in the community.! @voidprincessblog pls help share this to everyone 😭😭😭

Hii love!! omg tysm for this <33.

Yess, the void has many different names to it and the " Quantum Field " is one of them. I've read becoming supernatural by Dr Joe dispenza and it's phenomenal. Many people have entered the Void State/ Quantum Field. I'm gonna talk about this right now and link some stuff from the book that y'all can read from.

What does Dr Joe dispenza say about the " QUANTUM FIELD " ?

" As you enter this endless, vast space as an awareness, there are no bodies, no people, no objects, no places, and no time. Instead, infinite unknown possibilities exist as energy. So if you find yourself thinking about knowns in your life, you are back in the three-dimensional reality of space and time. But if you can stay in the blackness of the unknown for long enough, it will prepare you to create unknowns in your life. "

Success story of how someone got healed Instantly :

" After they unfolded into the quantum field, I then asked them to dimensionalize a scene from their Mind Movie. When the meditation was finished, I instructed them to lie down on the floor—but as Sarah told me later, she couldn’t find the floor. She kept reaching lower and lower, searching for it, but it was no longer there. The next thing she knew, she was in another dimension having a full-on IMAX-like sensory experience—but without her senses. She was living a future scene of her Mind Movie. Enough circuits in her brain had turned on to make her internal experience as real as any external experience she had ever had. She was not visualizing this scene—she was in it, living it.

“I realized I was in another reality, a different time and space—I was in my future,” she explained. “And I was actually performing aerial yoga. I was hanging upside down and the floor wasn’t there. I kept reaching for it, but I was just swinging upside down from this beautiful red silk scarf. I felt freedom from my pain. I was swinging freely in space.” Eventually she did lie down, with tears of joy flowing down her cheeks. When she came out of that meditation, all of her pain was gone.

“I knew I was healed,” she said. “I was in awe of the power of my mind and I felt tremendous gratitude. I continue to manifest things from my Mind Movie—in fact, my Mind Movie can’t even keep up with my life.”

Also, there was an anon from an deactivated blog which spoke about entering the void by using Dr Joe dispenza way. I'm gonna copy and paste it here, and link it too 🖤.

" i have a fabulous book by dr.joe dispenza (how to become supernatural). he talks of the void state or the zero state and how you’re open to all possibilities and timelines. in it, he directed to first become aware of your body, the space you take between the folds of your skin, the space you take in your room, your home, your neighborhood, and the world. now- you must forget all of this and focus only on the black behind your eyelids. you must become no one, no thing, no body, no time in space. you must forget of your accomplishments, your worries, relationships- anything that makes YOU, you. literally on the first “try” of doing what he said i got into the void. it’s so easy i understand how stressful and confusing the void can be but just try to let go of all of that and focus on being nothing. imagine a beam of light going through the black space where your affs travel. stay focused and try not to dwell on the 3D. do not pay attention to the time or if you’re itchy- whatever. just having a clear mind helped me so much. ofc, this is not required but it does help!! " Original link

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freedomfireflies · 9 months

Text

Four to Go*

Summary: The fourth part to One for the Money*

Mr. Styles, your boss (and the CEO of the company you work for), offers to help you expand your OnlyFans business.

But can he watch you sleep with someone else?

Word Count: 7.8k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

Mr. Styles is calm as he slips off his jacket, unfazed by the curious look on Max’s face.

“Uh…all right,” Max replies, sneaking a second glance at you for confirmation. “So, you…you’re just gonna…be here? Or…?”

Mr. Styles nods, taking a seat on the lounge chair near the wall, loosening his tie as he sits. “See, Peach always tends to need a little…encouragement. So, that’s why I’m here.”

He smiles at you, and your heart leaps.

“To give it to her.”

You have absolutely no idea what to say. What to think or feel. Part of you is somewhat comforted by his presence and the other part is wildly confused by it.

“Okay…” Max clears his throat and cocks an eyebrow up. “Well…we were just gonna go over some ground rules—”

“Excellent.” Mr. Styles beams as he leans back. A hand is waved as instruction to continue. “By all means.”

Your lips press together into a thin line.

“All right. I was just gonna ask how you feel about kissing,” Max begins, returning his attention to you. “There’s no right or wrong answer. Sometimes it can make things feel less serious, but it’s up to you.”

“Oh, I’m fine with it,” you say, shrugging once. “It’s just a kiss.”

Out of your peripheral, you catch Mr. Styles tilt his head.

“Okay. And condoms?”

“Yeah, I brought some.”

“Perfect, and I’ve got some, too.” Max looks around the room in thought. “Uh—oh. The safe word. I know we agreed on the color system, but if you have a particular word that feels best…?”

“Color system is fine,” you agree. “I trust you.”

Mr. Styles coughs under his breath.

You look over.

He smirks.

Amused, Max moves for his camera. “All right, then. Do you wanna go over the scene one more time?”

“Uh…honestly? Maybe we just…get right into it,” you answer, slowly slipping your coat off. “I have a tendency to overthink.”

You hear a snort from behind you, and you don’t even have to look to know who it came from.

“Got it,” Max chuckles, surveying the room one last time. “Well, then…I guess I’m ready when you are?”

Your pulse skips a time or two as you nod and allow your covering to fall away, revealing the outfit underneath.

Another one of Mr. Styles' sets. A soft, pastel peach color. It felt fitting, and the room grows oddly quiet as both men take a moment to drink you in.

Max is the only one with a comment to make, smiling gently as he says, “Nice. And it’s comfortable?”

“Very. Yeah, my investor did an excellent job.”

Mr. Styles smirks at your sly comment while Max laughs.

“Ah, so this is the work of the mysterious gentleman in the corner?”

“Indeed.” You nod as you step closer to the bed. “Turns out, he’s incredibly picky.”

Another scoff but you pay it no mind as you shoot Max an innocent grin and take a seat on the edge of the mattress.

Max fiddles with the camera and the lights a moment more before he clears his throat and claps his hands together once. “All right, I think we’re ready.”

There’s a weird flutter in your stomach as you straighten up and prepare to begin, unable to resist sneaking a glance at your boss.

He’s expressionless. Stoically sitting in his chair, relaxed, yet seemingly uninterested.

It’s not unusual for him, but even still, you wonder where the man who dominated you in your bedroom has disappeared to.

And if you’ll ever see him again.

“You ready?” Max calls gently, smiling his encouragement.

“Yes,” you reply, voice oddly timid as you scoot back toward the pillows. “Ready.”

With that, a little red dot begins to blink from the device, signaling the start to the video.

No going back now.

Max makes his way around the tripod, approaching the bed with a confident gleam in his eye. “Hi, Peach,” he murmurs, rather seductively, and your breath catches. “’S’about time we found our way here, yeah?”

You nod again, lip disappearing between your teeth as he kneels onto the mattress and begins to crawl closer.

“Look so fucking sweet,” he continues, letting his eyes trail from your face to your thighs, appreciating every thread on your lingerie set. “Did you dress up just for me?”

You fight the urge to look toward your boss, swallowing thickly as you whisper, “Yes.”

His hands find your hips, smoothing over the curves and dips with ease before slowly guiding your legs apart. “Gonna let me have a taste?”

You feel breathless. Wonderstruck by the fingers inching closer to you, the anticipation building in your gut.

“Yes,” you repeat, nails curling into the silk bedding beneath you as he moves in.

He hooks onto the material and slowly begins to pull it aside, allowing him access to your cunt. Then, his thumb outstretches, ready to swipe across your clit when the sound of a throat clearing echoes across the room.

You and Max both still, exchanging a curious look before turning to sneak a glimpse of the man responsible for the interruption.

Mr. Styles stares back, eyebrow raised. “I’m sorry, is that it, then?”

Max pushes up onto his knees. “Pardon?”

Your boss leans forward. “You have her all spread out, ready and willing, and this is the best you can do?”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as Max tosses you a curious expression.

“I mean…this is what we agreed on,” Max replies slowly. “A little foreplay before the rest of it.”

“And this is your idea of foreplay?”

Max blinks. “Uh…yes?”

“Interesting.” His fingers strum against the arm of the chair but he says nothing more.

A little rattled, you shift beneath Max and wait for him to continue.

Tentatively, he does, pushing through your folds with intense focus. He’s slow with it, letting the air hit you just so until you squirm, hand pushing your thigh open.

Vaguely, you feel a pair of eyes studying you from the corner of the room, taking note of each breath and quiver of your limbs.

And you know he’s watching you. Know he’s observing the technique. And while you don’t mind being watched by him, something about this feels odd.

Max straightens up and moves in to kiss you, slotting his knee between your legs as a hand wraps around the back of your neck.

His tongue is in your mouth before your eyes can close, and you whimper a bit at the aggressive force behind his touch.

He’s quite good. One of the better men you’ve been with, and nothing has even happened yet. You take this as a good sign, allowing yourself to melt into the gesture as his fingers fiddle with the buckle on his belt.

There’s another condescending snort near the wall, and Max sighs against your cheek before turning around. “Yes?”

“Nothing.” There’s a touch of innocence behind his response but the look in his eye reads anything but. “That’s just not how she likes it.”

You feel the blood drain from your face as Max smirks and looks back at you. “Sorry, Peach. Is that not how you like it?”

“It is,” you confirm, shooting a peeved look toward the chair. “Ignore him, I’m sorry.”

Max smiles gently before pressing another kiss to your bottom lip while tugging his pants down.

He manages to get his boxers around his knees before there’s another noise, and you audibly groan.

“Now what?” Max calls, slightly annoyed but attempting to maintain a bit of calm.

Mr. Styles lifts one shoulder in a relaxed shrug. “Just think it wouldn’t hurt to slow down.”

Max lets his head drop, chin meeting his chest as he sighs before replying, “Is that right?”

“Nobody is watching this video for you,” Mr. Styles continues. “They’re watching it for her. They want to see the way she reacts. How she feels. Your cock is nothing more than the sideshow. She…is the main event.”

There’s a weird sort of flutter in your stomach as you let your focus drift to the man near the wall.

Max exhales beneath his breath before straightening up. “All right. Then how do you suggest we proceed?”

Not needing to be asked twice, Mr. Styles stands to his feet and saunters toward the bed. “For starters…” A hand comes out to grasp onto Max’s jaw, tugging his face to the side. “…that’s not how she likes to be kissed.”

Wincing some, Max shoots him a glare while attempting to yank himself free. “Yeah? And how would you know?”

A rather excellent question, and your breath hitches as you await the response.

Mr. Styles doesn’t even look at you as he says, “I’m her fucking partner.”

Another tense silence flitters around the room before Max is finally released.

“And let me guess…I’m touching her wrong, too?” he counters, leaning away from you as Mr. Styles straightens up.

“Yes.” A simple response but the bite behind his tone makes you shiver.

Max scoffs to himself, head shaking with disbelief as he pulls his boxers back up. “Well, maybe it would just be easier if you did it, hm?”

“It would. But then it wouldn’t be your video, now, would it?”

“Mr. Styles,” you begin in a gentle murmur, “please…it’s fine—”

“Doesn’t look fine,” is his only retort, nodding at the gentleman still kneeling above you. “Is this what they pay you for, then? Mediocre sex and cheap camera work?”

“This is what Peach and I agreed on,” Max reminds him. “All right? This is the scene that we created—”

“Nothing about this scene was constructed for her benefit,” Mr. Styles replies. “And if you knew anything about her content, you would know that her audience likes to see her squirm.”

“Well we’re not just catering to her audience, okay? This is about my audience, too—”

“Last time I checked, her subscriber count doubled yours. The majority of viewers won’t be for you. They’ll be for her—”

“Right, and that’s why she’s the one in the frame, all right? I know what I’m fucking doing—”

“No.” Another straightforward answer, and it makes your head spin. “No, you don’t. And I don’t think that’s fair to her or her subscribers. They shouldn’t have to pay for your incompetence.”

Max looks to you. “Is he fucking serious?”

“I—” You push up onto your elbows, feeling a little exposed in your see-through garment. “Mr. Styles, I appreciate the thought. But he’s right. This was part of the plan—”

“Your plan was to fake your orgasm just so he could nut on film?”

Both you and Max still as this reply hangs in the air.

Then, Max crawls off the mattress, and stands to his feet. “Okay, you know what? I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

“Max…” you attempt to call, feeling rather embarrassed as he begins gathering his things. “Look, he doesn’t mean it—”

“No, I do,” Mr. Styles interjects, ignoring your peeved look of warning.

Max ignores you both.

He strides around the hotel room, throwing things into his duffel before turning the camera off and packing it up.

You attempt to shoot daggers toward your boss, a silent scold, but he simply meets your eye with relaxed indifference.

“Listen, Peach, you seem nice,” Max sighs, moving for the door with his things while shooting you a sympathetic grin. “And I appreciate you for even meeting with me. But…these things never work when the boyfriend gets involved. So, just…enjoy the room. It’s all yours for the night if you’d like it. And…I look forward to maybe working with you in the future.”

Your stomach drops as you nod and watch him exit the room, disappearing into the hallway until you’re left with the perpetrator.

All of fifteen minutes he’d managed to keep his mouth shut, and you huff as you sit up. “Seriously?” you mumble the moment the door is closed.

He leans back against the dresser, regarding you with ease. “That was pathetic, and you know it.”

“How? He hadn’t even done anything yet.”

“Exactly.”

You frown. “Mr. Styles, I really appreciate all of your help. But you were the one that told me this would be good for my account.”

“And it could have been. Just not with him.”

“What was so wrong with him?”

“He wasn’t doing it right.”

“Why? Just because he wasn’t doing it like you?”

“If he’s not doing it the way I would have, he’s doing it wrong.”

Your lips part but you find yourself without a response. After all, what exactly does he expect you to say?

He sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. But you can do better than him. Even in porn.”

“Right,” you snort under your breath, settling against the headboard and pulling your knees to your chest. “Well…guess it doesn’t matter now. I’ll just go back to my vibrating cock. Seems to be the only thing people really like.”

You’re attempting to lighten the mood, but Mr. Styles only offers you a rather contemplative look.

“Is that right?” he calls.

You suck in a quiet inhale and nod once. “Yeah. I mean, technically that wasn’t the only thing they liked, but…”

His brow raises.

You clear your throat. “You. They liked you.”

This seems to amuse him, his perfectly pink lips pulling up into a coy grin. “Me.”

“Yeah.” You glance down at your nails. “They, uh…liked your voice? And your…hands? And the way you talked? I guess? It was, um…the main feedback. They wanted to see you in more videos.”

The smug bastard is much too pleased to hear this, practically beaming as he studies you. “They did, did they?”

“Mhm.” You nod, cheeks warming. “So…you’ve got fans.”

“How nice.” He runs a hand along his jaw in thought, smile still much too wide. “And were you happy with the video?”

The million-dollar question. Truth be told, it’s the first video of yours that you’ve ever willingly watched more than once. You can still hear his instructions ring between your ears. Can feel his hands on your thighs. Can taste yourself on his fingers.

“Yes,” you reply quietly, shifting a bit in your spot. “It was…it was really good. I like how it came together.”

“You watched it?”

“…yes.”

“I thought you didn’t like to watch yourself come.”

“Yeah, well…this was different.”

His head tilts. “How so?”

You toss him a frown. He knows exactly why, and you hate his insistence on making you spell it out. “Why do you think?”

“Could be a number of reasons.”

“Except it’s not, and you know it.”

“Perhaps. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You huff again. “I just like what we did, okay? It was a nice video, a nice scene, and a nice sound bite. Happy?”

Once again, that dark eyebrow dances up, his expression twisting into one of curious intrigue. “Sound bite?”

Shit. Your eyes flicker back down to your hands. “I mean…yeah. You do have a nice voice. Sounds…sounds great on film.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “You like listening to me talk?”

Again, you feel your pulse skip over its own rhythm as you attempt to convey nonchalance. “Sure.”

But he’s unconvinced by your casualness, pushing off the dresser to step closer to you. “Is that why you were watching the video, then? To listen to me?”

You want to respond but your whole mouth has gone numb.

“Were you using my voice to get off, Peach?” he murmurs, the scent of his cologne finally reaching you as he approaches the bed.

You don’t have to answer for him to know that he’s right. And perhaps you ought to be ashamed of such an admittance, yet…the strange darkness in his expression suggests otherwise.

“Yes,” you breathe, moving your gaze to the white button up clinging to his chest. It’s a rather sheer material, allowing you to see just a taste of his tan skin beneath, and the faint markings of ink from potential tattoos. “Couldn’t help it.”

“No?” He reaches the side of the mattress where you reside, sitting near your feet as he watches you. “Just had to listen to me while you touched yourself, hm?”

He’s so close. So fucking close to you, and the adrenaline you felt that day in your bedroom triples until you feel a bit faint.

“Yes,” you repeat, but it’s strained and airy. You don’t mean to sound so weak, but he always seems to leave you this way.

“How?” His attention to your face pulls you back. “How did you touch yourself? Did you do it the way you always do? Or did you do it the way I do?”

Your focus falls to your lap but he quickly takes hold of your chin to hoist your eyes back up.

“Peach,” he warns, “need you to tell me, yeah? Need to hear you say it.”

And you want to huff. Or scream. Or ball your hands into fists and pound on his chest in retaliation.

Instead, you whisper, “Touched myself the way you told me to.”

A look of pride flashes across his face. “Did you?”

A soft nod. “Yes. Imagined you there with me.”

He drops his attention to your lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You sit up, desperate to bring yourself closer to him. Magnetized by this invisible pull. “Thought about your voice. Your hands. What you would have asked me to do. Wanted to make you proud…be good for you.”

He releases a deep breath, lashes fluttering as if working to keep his grip on his self-control. “Peach…”

“Almost called you,” you admit, fingers outstretching for his knee. “Almost asked for your business advice.”

He tightens his grip on your jaw, leg pushing into your touch.

“Watched it over and over and over.” Your palm glides up his thigh. “Thought about you through every fucking second.”

His expression grows stern as the vile language leaves your mouth, and you can see his dominant demeanor slip through the cracks.

“Just wanted to feel you, Sir,” you whimper, and his breath hitches. “Wanted your cock. Not the toy. Not his. Just you.”

It’s dizzying how quickly he manages to take hold of your hips and force you onto his lap, lacy cunt grinding against his covered bulge.

You both make a noise of approval, your forehead meeting his as you steady yourself by his shoulders.

“Is that right?” he finally speaks, but it’s coarse like gravel.

“Yes.” Your nails dig into his jacket. “It’s not the same when it’s just me.”

“No,” he agrees instantly. “No, how can it be? Such a pretty little thing doesn’t know what she’s doing. Needs someone to do it for her.”

You’re tugging on your lip to cover a whine, nodding quickly in agreement.

“Needs someone to take care of her, yeah?” His nose nudges into yours, taunting you with a kiss that you aren’t sure he’ll actually give you. “Tell her how to make Daddy happy?”

Your thighs are dragged over his for a second time as he grinds you down, forcing another wave of pleasure to roll over you.

“Wanna make me happy, don’t you?” he asks, and it’s so cruel of him to expect your coherence in a moment like this. “Always want my approval. My permission. Wanna do anything I fucking tell you, hm?”

“Yes…yes, please—”

“Please what, hm?” A beat as he inhales you. “What do you want, honey?”

You press your chest into his, gasping when the rings in your nipples are harshly stimulated. “Want you to tell me what I want.”

And he grins like this is the best thing he’s ever heard, hands tightening around your hips rather possessively. “Think you want my cock, don’t you? Want someone to do it right.”

You do. Have never wanted anything more, and it nearly makes your stomach ache from the thought of finally having him in a way you never thought you could.

There’s a brief moment of pause, the implication of your position and request dangling in the already tense air.

His lips are so close, taunting you with a taste, and it takes everything in you not to surge forward and take him for yourself.

He shifts, cock bucking up into your cunt as you sigh again, and just when you think this is the moment the dam breaks, he says, “Did you bring your camera?”

With a racing heart, you nod quickly, glancing toward your bag in the corner of the room.

He doesn’t move, at least not for a moment, instead breathing you in as he thinks. “Where is it?”

“There,” mumble, chin jutting toward the wall.

This time, he nods, squeezing your hips once more before taking a deep inhale and moving you off his lap.

It feels like the end of the goddamn world to have him rip his body from yours, and your chest nearly caves in as you watch him move for your things.

He rummages around in the bag until he finds the camera and tripod, moving to the other side of the bed to begin setting up.

It’s a different angle than Max had picked, and something tells you this is intentional. Whether this is out of spite or because he genuinely disapproved of Max’s camerawork, you aren’t sure.

You study him as he straightens the device and faces the lens toward the bed. Wonder yet again who this man really is. What his motivation is. What his intentions are. You’ve seen a side of him today you weren’t sure existed and despite yourself, you’re becoming addicted to it.

But is this just a ruse? Or is this who he really is?

“Look at me,” he calls, and it’s a dark, sensual instruction. “Good girl.”

He focuses on your face, making sure everything that needs to be in the frame is, and once he’s satisfied, he straightens up.

“I’m gonna hit record,” he tells you while your heart leaps into your throat. “What you choose to do with it is up to you.”

Your lips roll into your mouth, and you scoot back into the pillows. “Okay.”

The moment the red dot begins to flash, the air in the room shifts.

Your pussy practically comes to life as he side-steps into frame, slowly pulling his suit jacket off.

“Hi, Peach,” he murmurs, and your eyes zero in on his shoulders as they’re revealed to you. “Been a while, hm?”

Exactly one week and two days.

Not that you’ve been counting.

You stay silent as he approaches, desperately enthralled by his body as more and more of it is exposed.

He tosses the covering toward the other side of the bed before flicking the first couple of buttons on his shirt open.

“Know you missed me, haven’t you?” he continues, his back to the camera as he kneels on the bed. “Needed someone to take care of you.”

Your chest rises and falls with labored, anxious breaths. It’s torture the way he slowly crawls from the end of the bed to where you wait, taking his sweet time like if you aren’t about to pass out from anticipation.

Glimpses of his tattoos peek from beneath the collar of the white cotton fabric, teasing you with ideas as he finally reaches your legs, forcing your attention back.

“Isn’t that right?” he asks, just loud enough for the mic to pick him up.

“Yes,” you mewl, correcting yourself when you see his stern expression. “Yes, sir.”

“I know.” His fingers curl around your ankles, tugging your thighs apart to make room for his body. “Shame you didn’t ask me sooner.”

You consider this. Consider if this is part of the scene or an actual comment from Mr. Styles himself.

Either way, it makes you pout. “Should have,” you agree. “M’sorry, sir.”

The extra helping of compliance in your tone makes his mouth dance up into a proud grin.

He settles himself between your legs, reaching now for your wrists to bring them to his chest. “Take off my shirt.”

And it’s an instruction you don’t need to hear twice as you shoot up and begin pawing at his buttons.

Despite your shaky fingers, you manage to pull the tie over his head and free the shirt from his body, anxious to shove it down his arms until you can see his chest in full.

When you do…the world changes.

Colors are brighter, sights are sweeter, life is fuller. The body before you is that of real beauty. Sketched by the steady hand of an artist, each line, and ridge, and curve telling a story you desperately want to read.

It’s as if he were painted on a canvas and brought to life, your own work of art sitting right before you on this bed, asking you to indulge him.

Without thought, your palms sweep down his tan skin, drinking in the dips and edges that make up his torso.

He’s strong, and warm, and effortlessly sturdy. The ink littering his collarbone is delicate yet expressive. Two sparrows on each side with a butterfly just below his sternum.

It moves when he breathes, wings fluttering with the rhythm of his heart. You can’t tear your eyes away, and even though you feel him watching, you can’t move past this moment. Can’t fathom anything else but the divinity of the man between your thighs.

He smiles, pushing his body into your hands before grabbing hold of your hip. “Gonna show them your little surprise?”

Your head moves up and down wordlessly as he takes hold of your lingerie set and pulls the material down.

As it falls, he scoots to the side, allowing the camera to find you as your tits are revealed to the audience.

The rings shimmer in the light flittering through the hotel curtains, the initials—his initials—like a badge of honor to claim you to the world.

“So pretty, Peach,” he tells you, not for the first time, yet it makes your ego swell the same way it had before. “Like being mine, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you say without pause. “Wanna be yours. Always.”

He hums, and it’s delicious. Soft green eyes like grass on a summer day.

He kneads your breast in his palm, letting his thumb ghost over the piercing until you keen, back arching from the bed.

He makes another noise, soft but urgent, and you can see that his attempt at dragging the scene out is all for not.

His other hand moves to your cunt, rough fingertip pressing into your clit through the lacy fabric until you’re squirming. He swallows your whispers for more, for mercy, and his brows furrow when he feels how wet you’ve become.

“Lay down,” he nearly grits, practically tugging you onto your back. “Let me see you.”

You settle into the mattress with ease, lashes fluttering when he maneuvers onto his stomach. His hands curl around your legs, forcing them further open to make room for his head as his nose brushes down the fabric on your stomach.

He’s moving for your pussy, lips sweeping across every inch of you he can reach before hovering over where your clit lies.

His tongue comes out and presses into your cunt, despite the covering in the way, and you whine when you feel him. Warm, and wet, and pointed as the tip slides up just to tease you.

“Sir,” you gasp, but it’s his name you’re desperate to say. His real name, the beautiful H still shimmering from your chest, seeming to taunt you.

He hums, and the vibrations echo into your nerve endings, setting each sense on fire. You attempt to move away from his mouth, but his strong hold keeps you cemented to the bed and his firm expression keeps you submissive.

He creates a pattern of licking and sucking. Rhythmic yet purposeful. And the skill behind each nudge of his nose or flick of his tongue far exceeds what you expected of him.

His nails sink into your heated skin, practically forcing you against his lips until the flesh tears, crescent-shaped indents now littering your thighs.

And he’s so close to tasting you but not quite close enough. You’re not sure who this tortures more, but you hate the way he keeps you from what you truly want. What you need.

Your hands find his curls, sweeping through the auburn strands as he makes another noise and nuzzles into your touch.

“Please,” you whimper, and it’s a futile attempt at begging but even still, Mr. Styles seems pleased.

More than that, he seems just as unhinged as you feel, rutting into the bed beneath him as he squeezes his eyes shut.

You imagine he might come just from this little act of foreplay, spurred on by your sounds and pleas. But you need to feel him, and he needs to feel you, and there’s no goddamn way either one of you will be leaving this room until his cock has been inside your cunt.

“Sir,” you try again, tugging on his hair until he looks up. “Please…need you to fuck me. Need it, please—”

He shoots you a displeased sneer, palm slapping into your thigh as punishment for the choice in language.

But you don’t care. Not when he’s this close to conceding, and you know it’s hurting him just as much as it’s hurting you.

Despite his disapproval, he sits up and begins tugging on his belt, yanking it through the loops before ripping the zipper down.

Your greedy hands reach for him, trailing across his large arms and broad shoulders. Fumbling with his pants in an effort to push them down his legs. Slipping into his briefs just so you can get the faintest feel of his cock.

He’s outrageously hard, already leaking when you find him, and despite his conviction, he bucks into your palm.

The slight twitch makes your head spin, and you whine as you scoot closer.

“Please, please, please,” you beg breathlessly, legs spreading once more as he pulls himself free.

The cool air sends a wave of goosebumps from your neck to your toes, but it’s the sight of him in his own hand that really does it.

Pumping himself with delicate precision, he hisses between clenched teeth, “S’this what you want, Peach? Want Daddy’s cock?”

The voice inside your head is screaming but your mouth merely mumbles, “So bad, sir. Need you to make it better.”

He pushes on your leg, cementing it to the mattress while his other fingers hook onto your outfit to pull it away from your dripping pussy.

He seems mesmerized by the way your body reacts to him, and you have to wonder why he’s so surprised. You imagine it should be obvious the effect he has on you, yet the fascination in his eye leads you to believe he never considered this to be a possibility.

“My perfect peach,” he whispers, letting his finger drag through you. You jolt, moaning deep within the back of your throat as he brings his cock closer. “Gonna feel so fucking good for me, aren’t you? Can already tell. Gonna be my good girl.”

He spreads you, studying your pussy with fascination. Allowing his touch to move up and down your soaked folds while he plays with you. As though you’re a toy, meant only for his amusement.

And he’s so wonderstruck as he moves your arousal around, letting it web between his fingers before teasing your hole.

One digit is sweet, but two is ecstasy. Reminding you of just how empty you really are. How badly you need him. All of him.

He works himself in and out for at least two minutes, just to see you stretch for him. And the way he watches you makes your ears ring, your cheeks growing hot.

He could keep you here forever, you imagine. Could make you come from this alone, and you have half a mind to let him.

But you enjoy the feeling of his fingers curling inside your soft walls. Enjoy the way he strokes you, pets you, presses into you. You want to kiss his hand for being so wonderful. For being so generous, and maybe you want to kiss him, too.

The faster his fingers move, the harder you sink. Your muscles dissolve into jelly, and you nearly disappear through the bed when he places a knee onto your thigh.

He’s using his weight to trap you, keep you pliable, keep you submissive. And it works because you don’t consider doing anything else as he finally removes his hand and lines himself up.

“Breathe,” he orders, taking hold of your hip to steady you and angle you up. “Easy, honey. Gotta open you up for me, yeah?”

He pushes in slowly, inching forward with great restraint as your walls stretch around him, mold to him, invite him in. You’ve gone quiet, jaw dropped open in an empty, soundless pant. But he knows what this means, and the bastard smirks as he continues.

Halfway in, and your cunt has latched onto him. Squeezing him so tight, you can see the torture of it on his face. He’s trying to take it easy, be gentle. Make this at least somewhat pleasurable for you but he’s only a man. An older gentleman at that, and it seems as though he wasn’t expecting to lose himself so fast.

“More,” you mewl, wiggling down. “More, sir, please….please, just…go.”

You greedily reach for his shoulders, his neck, his hair. Wanting to wrap your arms and legs around his body and hold him inside of you until this ache goes away.

And he seems to want this, too, driving in a bit faster than before as if to satiate you.

“M’almost there, Peach, be patient,” he scolds, but you can tell the threat is empty. “Gotta make this pretty pussy mine, yeah? Gotta show you what a real cock feels like.”

And maybe his cock isn’t purple, and maybe it doesn’t vibrate, but my god does it scratch that itch. Reaches places inside of you that a silicone one never could and it’s his. The only thing that really matters.

He smells like money and expensive aftershave. Addicting in every sense of the word, and you whine again when he stills.

“Easy,” he warns, attempting to shoot you a stern look, but it dissipates when he sees how ruined you are. “Be good, my love, come on.”

And this nickname makes your heart burst as you whimper and melt into the silk sheets.

He’s almost there, maybe an inch or two from being completely sheathed within your cunt. But he throws all decorum to the side when he decides to ram himself forward, filling you to the hilt as his lips suddenly crash into yours.

The kiss is salty yet oddly sweet. His tongue has traces of you, but it also tastes like him, and both of you together is something you couldn’t have anticipated.

It’s a messy connection, wet and a bit uncoordinated for only a moment before he figures out a rhythm he likes.

You scratch down his scalp almost as if to discourage him from leaving you, moaning while your body works to accommodate his size.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t attempt to pull back before you’re ready, and you’re grateful for this courtesy in a moment so heated. You aren’t sure if you’re in control of your own mind anymore, but you enjoy following his lead.

You always have.

When he nips at your bottom lip, you’re reminded of how bad you need him. Need that release, and you slip your free leg around his bare hip. “Please,” you whisper, nose nudging into his cheek. “Please, Daddy.”

He groans at the nickname, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he eases back, just gentle enough to torture you.

And so begins the languid but deviously hard pace. A cadenced set of thrusts so deliciously slow, it makes your lungs ache.

Each pull out and push in seems to rip you in half, introducing you to the kind of pleasure you’d only ever heard about.

It feels as though this is what has always been missing from your life. This kind of sex, this kind of understanding, this kind of prowess.

And maybe it’s just his cock, or maybe it’s him, but it doesn’t matter because you’ll take it. Take anything this man offers you, and you’ll thank him for it.

Perhaps a rather uncouth thought, but you’ll correct yourself tomorrow.

Today, you’re his.

“Taking me so well, Peach,” he grunts, hips knocking into yours as he slips an arm beneath your waist. “Look at you, honey. So fucking wet, you hear that? Hear the way you sound for me?”

And you do. How could you not? It echoes around the room, bounces between the walls, and fills your ears like a harmony.

You imagine this might be your favorite part. Listening to the way your body has welcomed him in. You can feel it dripping down to your ass, can see it on his skin, can practically taste it still on his tongue.

Your back arches, chest knocking into his, and the brush of the rings makes you writhe. A squirmy movement that benefits you both as he growls beneath a strained breath and drives in at a harder pace.

“Bet it feels good, yeah?” He captures your mouth with his. “Bet it’s so fucking good. Bet you’ve never had someone fuck you like this, have you?”

With a fervent shake of your head, you wrap your arms around his neck and move to kiss down his jaw. “No, Daddy.”

The arm beneath you coils a bit tighter. “I can tell. This poor, pretty pussy just doesn’t know what to do, hm? Can’t do anything but take it.”

Sweat trickles between your bodies, and it’s salty on your taste buds as you lick the spot below his ear.

You almost swear you hear him purr from the feel of your lips, and it makes your heart soar to know he’s so enamored.

“Show them,” he seethes, the blades of his shoulders rippling beneath your hands. “Show them how good it feels to be fucked right.”

Your head drops back, heavy from the weight of your lust before you manage to look toward the camera.

Already you can see the influx of comments about the man between your legs. Praising him, idolizing him, thirsting after him.

And with your eyes on the lens, you lift your mouth to his, sucking on his tongue with great purpose as you remind the audience who he really belongs to.

After all, his initials are emblazoned across your chest. His mark, his claim, his property.

Whether or not that follows you both outside of this room doesn’t matter. Right now, right here, in this moment…he is yours.

His hips snap forward and he’s losing the battle fast, unable to keep himself from fucking into you with a fervent need for release.

But you certainly don’t mind because the angrier he gets, the harder he goes…the more infatuated you become.

And he’s hitting that spot over and over and over. Like it’s his job, like he always knew where to find it, how to please you. Stars scatter behind your eyelids and you’re drenching his cock and the sheets and his fingers the moment they attach to your clit.

The room fills with sex and whimpers and determined thrusts that have the bed shaking. Nothing else exists but this. Just this. Just him.

“Come on,” he breathes, pinching you between his fingers, tweaking the sensitive nerves until you nearly scream. “Come on, Peach. Let go for Daddy. Let me feel you come on my cock.”

“Please,” you cry because it’s far too overstimulating for you to think straight. It almost hurts, and you writhe beneath his hand. “Please, can’t—”

“But you will,” he tuts, thumb pressing into your clit as though punishing it. “You will because you’re my good girl. Aren’t you? Do exactly what I say, don’t you?”

Your head rolls back into the pillows, spine arching as you whisper, “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He removes his arm from under your waist so he can go back up to your chest, pulling on your tit until tears actually gather in your lashes. “Go on, then. Fucking give it to me.”

You can feel the cool brush of his rings against your skin, but the moment you look down at his hands, it hits you.

Unraveling faster than you ever have, you clench around him, and finally release that scream. It’s the strongest one you believe you’ve ever experienced, and it seems to last an eternity as he continues fucking into you.

Then, his hand is on your jaw, tugging something fierce until your eyes meet.

“Look at me,” he whispers, knee still digging into your thigh as his weight keeps you caught in the pleasure. “Look at me, honey. Let me see you come.”

Tears fall from your cheeks and into his hands, almost burning your skin as you shudder around his cock.

You can see the repercussions of it on his face. Can see how connected you two have become in this singular moment.

He’s seconds away from following, and just when you begin to revel in the thought of feeling him fill you…he pulls out.

Straightening up, he takes his cock in his hand, and with a quick, firm pump, he comes all over your tits.

Nothing will ever be able to describe the wave of adoration you feel as you watch him release himself. The knitting of his eyebrows together in pure, unadulterated bliss or the flush in his cheeks as he groans.

His lips are so very pink and swollen, and the expression on his face, like something out of a museum. Structured and beautiful and the perfect showcase of exactly how good he feels right now.

And you watch as the nipple rings—his initials—are drenched in the sticky substance. It looks like art, painted across your chest in featherlike strokes.

The camera catches everything, allowing the audience the best view of his contribution. You imagine it’ll be something you’ll rewatch for years to come. A screenshot engraved in your mind for the rest of time.

You hum contently, eyelids growing heavy as you admire his work, and just when you think the moment is dwindling down, he dips down.

His tongue swipes over your breast, collecting himself on his lips as you groan and push up into his mouth.

He makes a noise himself, both hands gluing to your ribcage as he pulls you closer and keeps you still.

He licks at you like you’re a popsicle on a hot day, smearing his come over your skin, your lingerie set, and his chin.

“So good, Peach,” he murmurs between sucking your nipple into his mouth. “Could fucking stay here all day.”

Once again, your fingers brush through his curls, lazily this time. Almost as if trying to relax him. Thank him.

“Please do,” you whisper, almost as if to yourself, but the softening of his expression tells you he heard.

With one final kiss to your tit, he moves back up and takes hold of your jaw.

His fingers press into your cheeks, right beside your lips as a silent instruction for you to open.

You do, immediately sticking out your tongue for his offering as he leans down.

The spit and come dribble down deliciously slow but the moment they make contact, you whimper.

He keeps his hold on your face, watching as it sits in your mouth, seeming to enjoy the sight of your full submission.

Then, he squeezes. “Swallow.”

You do, quite greedily, and the second it’s down your throat, he’s kissing you again.

And it’s different this time because he’s no longer inside of you. No longer fucking you or showing off for the camera.

He’s kissing you just to kiss you and it makes your head spin as you disappear into his unspoken display of affection.

“My sweet girl,” he says against your lips, and it makes you smile. “Sweet like a peach, hm?”

You giggle into his cheek, nuzzling into him as though his touch is the only thing that can save you.

And maybe it is.

“Thank you,” you finally say, nipping at his earlobe until he smirks.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. Fucking me?”

He laughs as he smooths his palm down your side, drinking in your feverish body as the camera watches.

“Just trying to be a good business partner,” he retorts, and it makes your stomach flutter.

You lean back to meet his eye, already feeling sheepish. “Mr. Styles?”

“Hm?” His focus drifts to your forehead as he absentmindedly brushes back your hair.

“I wouldn’t be…opposed to doing that again,” you admit with a sheepish grin.

And for a moment, he’s amused, staring at you with a look you aren’t sure you recognize but absolutely adore.

Then, his smile falls, and a frown settles over his face. A sad kind of expression that changes the afternoon on a dime.

Suddenly, he’s sitting up and scooting back, tucking himself into his pants before snatching his shirt from the bed.

You watch, confused and a little unsure as he begins packing his things in the same way Max had.

“I’m…I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” you venture timidly, arms crossing over your chest in an attempt at covering.

He doesn’t reply. He simply turns off the camera and redoes his belt, eyes trained everywhere but you.

“I was just…I was kidding. We don’t have to do that again, I just…I thought—”

“It’s fine.” His tone is clipped. Short and straight to the point. He sounds the way he always does yet it makes your heart sink.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” you try again, but his head merely shakes.

“You didn’t.” Another vague and frustrating answer. “I just have somewhere I need to be.”

However, you know his schedule inside and out, personal and professional, and you know that he specifically kept today wide open.

Still, he pulls on his jacket and runs a hand through his hair, attention drifting toward the door. Eyeing his escape.

You bite back a sigh. “Uh…okay, well, thank you. Again. For your help.”

He nods, finally glancing over. But he’s not looking at you the way he was before. Now, it’s hollow. Void of any understanding and care. “I told you I’d help, and I meant it.”

“Right.” And now he’s done. “Sure, yeah. Okay. So I’ll…see you Monday?”

Another nod, this time quiet. You can see that he’d like to add something else, but his lips purse together, keeping his secrets locked away.

“Monday,” he finally repeats, moving for the exit. “I expect you to be on time.”

You stare at his back as he opens the door, silently pleading with him to turn around. To look at you one last time. Not leave like this.

He hesitates, hand gripping the handle, knuckles going white. He’s halfway into the hallway and your breath hitches.

Then, he disappears through the frame.

And the door slams shut.

ONE MORE PART, I WILL BE SOBBING TBH

Next Part:

~ Five to Go Live*

Previous Part:

~ Three to Make Ready*

~ Full One for the Money Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Credit for the incredible and perfectly peachy dividers to @firefly-graphics!!

And a shout-out to @fkinavocado for helping me plan! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @indierockgirrl @narry-heart @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @likeapplejuicenpeach @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever

(If your name is highlighted it's because Tumblr won't let me tag you, it's very weird and I don't understand it but I tried, I promise 😭💞)

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