╾╾╤デ╦︻

“Ха, поШЕЛ ТЫ!”

The bed creaks under Griefer’s weight as he stretches out beside you, shirt halfway lifted from his constant fidgeting. His white hair fans over the pillow, and that stupid Roblox cap is still on his head, tilted just enough to look like trouble.

You’re minding your business, scrolling on your phone or maybe just zoning out—until WHAP.

His hand smacks your chest outta nowhere. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to jolt you and leave you staring at him like “What the actual hell?”

He’s already grinning like a menace.

“Oi,” he says, tongue brushing his snake bites, “wanna make out or what?”

You don’t even have time to recover before he rolls over and props himself up on his elbow, eyes scanning you like he owns every inch of you. His green jacket slips down one shoulder, and there’s that flash of his red bracelets as his hand ghosts over your jaw.

“I’m bored. And you’re hot. Fix it.”

And just like that, Griefer’s in your space, heat radiating off him, breath brushing your cheek like he’s daring you to say no.