Moka's secret

Moka was a good student. She paid attention in class, shared her notes, and studied diligently. Her impressive consistency was admired by all her peers, and they wondered how she achieved this type of discipline. It seemed like nothing bothered her: not the five tests set in a week, not her insufferable courters, not her friends’ dramas.

Indeed, Moka had a secret: fanfictions. That’s how she took her stress away. The study material is too difficult? Read a one-shot, and it will all click right away. A short break from the clubs? That’s time for some headcannons. Having a bad day? Some smuts will fix it right up. What about a good day? Well, read away.

It was when she went to college that she started writing, and when she discovered her natural talent, she never stopped. Reading was fun. People had amazing stories to tell, but after absorbing all those tropes and characters, her brain was starting to bubble with stories of her own. Suddenly, she could create whatever she wanted and didn’t need to send requests, hoping the writers liked them.

Moka seemed like an innocent girl. She wore cute sweaters and girly shirts, often paired with a pleated skirt; she wore a lot of gadgets, and always had rounded sneakers. She had a bright personality and always smiled.

People looked at her and saw an adorable ray of sunshine. Never would they have guessed what she wrote.

And, truly, she did write cute stories at first. Short fluffs about the shows she was watching. Ships and self-inserts. 

But a girl has her needs. 

When that character showed up on screen, shirtless and sweaty, oh it burnt like a fire. Immediately, she had to look up something, something strong.

She started following boy groups and entered their fanfiction fandoms, and that was the decisive moment.

Fluffs weren’t enough. She needed more. The heat inside her chest couldn’t be tamed by simple cuddles and kisses. She was well past that, that was for kids, not her.

It started with spicy scenarios, a little teasing, some touching here and there, and it quickly spiraled into something wilder.

Moka wanted to try them all. All kinks, plays, tropes, and characters. She let the tingles take her away, following that feeling that clouded her brain.

She started dipping her feet on the other side as well and realized just simply how hot girls were. But other than that, she got curious about the other perspectives and started reading male reader stories.

Seeing the perspective of the man made her go insane. It was exhilarating. 

By that time, she had already built up a decent following. It was only natural, given how prolific a writer she was.

That’s when she met you, her fellow writer friend.

She stumbled upon your blog after scrolling endlessly through mediocre clanker-ridden Y/N slop. It was like finding a diamond in the rubbish. 

After reading the first paragraphs, she was hooked. After eight more, her breath was hot. 10 seconds later, her right hand crawls down her legs. 20 more seconds and she has to stifle the lewd moans rushing out of her mouth. 

And 10 minutes later, she was left with a mess to clean up.

It was love.

She had to meet whoever wrote this story. It was like their brain completely in sick with hers. It knew everything she liked, from the cute interactions, to the sexual tension, the sex and even the pace.

Moka took some time to re-collect herself and get some tissues to get herself back into her clean demure image. Then she went to your blog, clicked the small speech bubble under your post and started typing.

[OMG THIS WAS SO GOOOD. Honestly my favorite fic right now. PLEASE GIVE US A PART 2] 

Hearted.

Her job was done, her nerves were soothed, now back to studying. 

Moka went back to her microeconomy book and started reading the chapter the professor had taught this morning. It wasn’t exactly an interesting topic but she still had to catch up otherwise it would pile up endlessly. So everyday, when she went back home, she would re read her notes and check what it said on the textbook. Read… Read…

She needed to read another one. Another smut.

Moka threw her book aside and jumped on the bed again. She opened her phone and rushed to your blog, that she had followed already. She checked your masterlist. There were so many choices, so many fics she hadn’t read yet. 

So her personal ritual started again.

On the other side of town, you were scrolling through the countless memes on IG reels when you received that notification. It surprised you. Nobody had ever written a comment with that much excitement and certainly not with those many capital letters. You thought for a moment. It was either a very zesty man or it was a girl.

You’ve heard of them before, girls that read male reader fics, though they were very rare. You wondered why they’d be attract to this, especially since the perspective was so different. As long, as they liked it, you didn’t complain.

“How should I reply to this?” you thought to yourself. It was always good practice to reply to comments. They took the time to write it, after all.

[Thank you for the comment! Wait for part—

“No,” you thought. “It will probably not happen. Delete.”

[Thank you for the comment! We’ll see what happens]

There. That’s perfect. Give them hope but don’t promise anything. Done, enter.

You were about to put your phone away when another notification hit your phone. 

[IM GONNA WORSHIP THE GROUND YOU'LL WALK IN🙏🏻💛😭]

Okay, what the fuck?

Well, you were flattered, that’s for sure. But was this really necessary. You kinda remember what you wrote and not a single sentence deserved this much… excitement. Not to mention, it wasn’t towards the character either, it was towards you. You. 

You had to sit back and really think what to reply this time. 

Maybe you should match her energy. No, that’s not really what you do.

[You’re too kind!]

Yeah, that will be okay. And… send.

[IM SCREAMING THAT WAS INSANE OMGGG I- I’ll NEVER recover from this, I’m not the same person anymore]

What?

Is this person okay?

You rubbed your forehead. You had to go and quickly read what you wrote to try to understand the reasoning of this reaction. No matter how many times you went back to it, you still couldn’t understand. 

You stared at the blinking cursor. Should you reply again? What if she continued? What would you do then?

Before you could decide, someone messaged you. It was her. Or him, you still weren’t completely sure.