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#i have like four asks queued

roadstostray · 10 months

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RAAHHHH I LOVE THE WAY U DRAW DAVID AND GWEN

AAAAAAA

THANK

#ask #theres so much more to come #the camp camp brainrot is bad #i have like three or four drawings queued rn

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page-2-ids · 6 months

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This is kind of an open ended one, so I totally get if you say no. Would you do terms for covers that you would want from that set of cover terms you did a few months back with gnr mcr a7x & slipknot?

‘Queued’! Also, something about how I handle big requests like this. I tend to post the request and say that I’ve queued it before I finish the whole thing (once or twice before I’ve even started). For the more free-form ones like this and that -hottic one from a while back, I’ll do a list of what all I want to do so I don’t forget anything I want to do. I already had six things on my to-coin list that I’m packaging in with this one, but - not counting those - this request list already has 38 things in it and I’m not done.

I’m not complaining, I did choose to do this (and I do honestly like stuff like this), I just wanna give a heads up why this could take a while and why this could seriously out weigh everything else for a while, since there are two more of these than what’s in my drafts at the moment

#ask #anon #not a gender #i will say #i am very glad this came in now #and not after i posted ten more cover terms like that #(which are all queued)#vecause i might actually have to say no to that #four groups is a lot #eight (plus however many more mixes of them)#might actually count as too much #even for me

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starflirts · 3 months

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OUR SECRET MOMENTS IN A CROWDED ROOM

as mrs swift once said: "romance is not dead if you keep it just yours" luke castellan x fem! reader, wc: 614, warning: none, note: here's a little something i queued before classes took over my life… enjoy! (still working on other stuff though don’t worry!)

“They have no idea about me and you” he whispers softly in the space between your neck and your collarbones, soothing breaths tickling your skin.

The lake is quiet at this time of day, campers from all cabins too busy with their own activities to pester Luke. The setting sun casts its golden rays on the water and you can hear the faint giggles of dryads in the woods.

You stand with your back against the trunk of a tree, a bright smile on your face as you card a hand through his hair. “You have to thank me and our secret spot for that.” you muse, slightly pulling on his curls to get him to look at you.

Luke grins, hands resting on your waist, thumbs tracing small circles on the skin hidden by your shirt. “And you,” he tilts his head to the side, “should be thankful Chris accepted to take over my camp counselor duties without asking any questions !”

Curling your hands around his neck, you let out a laugh and Luke swears you’ve stolen the last remnants of sunlight. “If you keep disappearing like that he might become a little too curious and find out. And I really don’t want him complaining about you not telling him about us. He’d beg to be your best man.” you tease him, fingers toying with the curls at the back of Luke’s head.

Your boyfriend can’t help but smile at the implication. He shrugs, hands still on your waist. “Whatever. I’d like to see his face when we tell him.”

Pretending to pout, you cross your arms over your chest. “No more secret rendezvous then ? Such a shame, I love having you all to myself.” you answer with a grin, tone dripping with amusement.

Luke can feel warmth creeping up his ears. His hands crawl up your sides until they're resting on your cheeks. He’s so close to you now you can almost feel his lips hovering over yours and the tip of his nose brushes against yours. “Pretty lady, I am yours all the time. Always have, always will.”

He’s about to lean in when voices suddenly call your names. Whipping your head towards the source of the sound, you push yourself away from the tree but the distance between you and Luke remains minimal.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Annabeth is the first one to appear in your line of vision, Percy in tow. “The Apollo cabin is setting up the bonfire. You guys should come now otherwise Percy’s going to eat all the s’mores.” she adds, ignoring Percy’s complaints.

When the four of you make your way back to the heart of the camp, Annabeth looks back at you once. If she notices the way Luke’s hand brushes against yours she doesn’t say a thing.

Bonfire nights are Luke’s favorites by far. With your hand safely secured in his underneath a blanket you both share, he enjoys the proximity; whispering sweet nothings into your ear when no one notices, grinning when only he can see your bashful smile.

“You’re so obvious Castellan” you giggle, shaking your head.

He only chuckles at that. “Can’t help myself pretty. I just love you too much.”

His words make you shy away from his gaze, turning towards the crowd of campers by your side.

As you face the fire, you can feel Annabeth’s eyes on you from across the flames, a smirk on her face. Her gaze shifts from you to Luke, intently observing his lovesick gaze and your giddy countenance. Raising your eyebrows as if to ask her what she was thinking about, she only mouths back: “I knew it !”

#percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo imagine #pjo x reader #pjo fluff #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan fic #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine

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thef1diary · 2 months

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Little Big Fan | Four

- Little Big Celebration

Series Masterlist

wc: 1.6k

After getting over the initial shock of seeing him, you greeted him. "I thought you were room service, I ordered some food."

He smiled but then he asked the question he's been meaning to ask since he couldn't find you after the celebrations, "why did you leave so fast?"

"Isabella watched you hold the trophy then she fell asleep. I didn't want the noise to disturb her," you explained, and he nodded in understanding. "Is that why we're still standing here, because she's sleeping inside?"

You shook your head, "as long as you keep it down." You moved out of the way to let him inside and he saw your favourite show queued up on the tv.

"Looks like you already have plans for the night," Max commented and you chuckled, "This is how my nights are usually spent."

"Well then I probably shouldn't ask if you want to come celebrate with us." Both of you sat on the couch, facing each other. "That would mean going to a club, which I can't do but you should go celebrate your win."

Based on the celebrations you saw on the podium, you knew the afterparty would be even better. A little part of you wished that you could go, but you were content with how you've been spending your nights lately.

"Congratulations by the way," you added. "Do you want me to leave?" Max asked bluntly which made you frown. "No, but if you have plans—"

"My plans are here, with you," he interrupted you, making you shut your mouth with his response. A smile threatened to grow on your face but you managed to compose it. "Plus I can celebrate next weekend at the next race," Max added, a smug smile on his face and you couldn't hold back yours any longer.

"That confident in your winning capabilities?" You asked with a teasing tone behind your words. He shrugged, "if I don't think I am the best, then I won't be the best."

There was another knock at your door, and this time you were certain it was room service. Fortunately, you ordered enough food so you could share with Max.

Watching your show was at the bottom of the priority list, replaced by wanting to keep the conversation going with Max.

"Don't tell Brad about this," Max spoke, pointing to the meal that surely wasn't part of his diet. "Oh no, the champion is a rule breaker," you teased him, earning a smile from him in return.

Max looked at the closed bedroom door, "did she have fun today?"

"So much fun! I think she would start asking me when we're going to another race," you told him, the excitement on Isabella's face is something you wouldn't forget anytime soon.

"All you have to do is ask, I can get you the passes for the next race." Based on his tone, he wasn't joking and you quickly shook your head.

"No, you've already done so much for us; the hotel, flight tickets, caps and whatnot," you explained, but he was quick to retort. "I don't want to sound like a stuck up asshole, but the cost doesn't matter as much as the experience."

You couldn't help but chuckle, "maybe another time, Isabella is starting school soon too."

"First grade?" He asked, and you nodded, "yeah, she's growing up so fast."

"And what about you, did you enjoy this weekend?" He looked at you in anticipation, hoping you enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed yours.

"Maybe not as much as Isabella, but it was a very nice experience and I still can't believe you do this for a living." He chuckled at your response, but then you added, "and what about you?"

"What about me?" He asked, and you clarified, "did you enjoy this weekend, home race and all?"

He seemed taken aback by the question but he answered nonetheless. "A lot better than it usually is," the meaning behind his words was clear to you, especially with the way he looked at you.

"If you told me earlier, I would've worn orange for the race." Max shook his head, "Then people would've thought that you were supporting McLaren."

An idea popped in your mind and you slapped your hand on his thigh while exclaiming, "I should've taken the cape from Daniel!"

Your hand remained on his thigh but you didn't seem to realize, and he didn't move it away either. "I'll get you one next year," Max suggested.

Your focus shifted away from Max as soon as you heard footsteps in the room Isabella was sleeping in. "Hold on," you stood up and went to check on her.

As soon as you opened the door, Isabella paused in her step, looking at you with a sheepish smile on her face.

"Angel, are you hungry?" You asked, knowing that there were a bit of leftovers. She shook her head, then pointed at the suitcase or rather the teddy bear sitting on the suitcase.

You passed it to her and she climbed back in bed. "Are you sure you're not hungry?"

"No, mama, I'm tired." On cue, she yawned as you walked closer to her. Tucking her in properly, you placed a kiss on her forehead and sat by her side, brushing your fingers through her hair until she was sound asleep. Which again, didn't take long.

You noticed the glittery clips still in her hair from earlier in the day. You carefully began taking them out one by one while trying not to wake her up. Then, after placing another kiss on her forehead, you left the room.

"Everything okay?" Max asked as soon as you sat down on the couch. You nodded, "yeah, she went back to sleep."

"The race really tired her out today," he smiled because of his next thought, "seems like she's the one who raced instead of me."

You chuckled, "looks like it." Then you added, "I know you're a professional and all but it was just as much fun as it was scary watching you drive so fast."

"So you're not a big fan of fast cars?" He didn't comment on the fact that you only mentioned him while there were nineteen other drivers on the grid.

"That depends, will your follow up question be if I would trust you to drive me around?" You responded with a question and he had a sheepish smile on his face, "maybe."

"I guess I'll have to get in a car with you one day to know the answer to both questions."

Your conversation was interrupted by a call on Max's phone. He muttered a curse before declining it. "Why don't we watch your show?" Max suggested, leaning back on the couch comfortably.

You didn't ask him about his other plans, as he had already assured you earlier that the only plan he has for tonight are with you.

It was possible that he wanted to spend more time with you before you leave tomorrow evening, and you couldn't help but smile at the thought.

The thought of leaving didn't sit with you, but you pushed it to the back of your mind and focused on the present, with him.

You grabbed the remote and pressed play, shuffling a tad bit closer to Max.

Somewhere along the way, a few episodes later, Max's arm rested on the back of the couch. His fingers lightly grazed your shoulder every time either of you moved.

Max's phone rang two more times. The second time he picked up and quickly muttered, "I'm busy." Then he turned it off, and apologized to you.

"It's okay, you're the most popular man of the night, people want to see you," you shrugged casually.

"Yeah well, I don't want to see them." You chuckled, liking his bluntness.

It was pretty late when he decided to leave, both of you were so tired but neither wanted the night the end. You opened the door for him, but as he stepped out, he turned to look at you.

"I'll drop you two at the airport tomorrow, just let me know when you're leaving." Once again he said it so casually that you had to remind yourself that he only knew you for a few days. Although it didn't feel like it.

"You don't have to," you reminded him that he was under no obligation to send you off. He shook his head, "I want to, if you let me."

You couldn't say no to him, and perhaps it was a little selfish because you wanted to spend all the time there was with him. You haven't been selfish in a while and it is about time to change that.

"I'll text you tomorrow then. Isabella is going to be very happy knowing she'll see you tomorrow as well." You stated, not mentioning that you would be happy to see him too, using your daughter as an excuse. But then, you didn’t lie either because Isabella would be overjoyed as well.

"Trust me, I'll be very happy too," he added with a smile, preferring not to tell you how delighted he would be to see you as much as he was to see Isabella. That information was best kept to himself.

Then he left. While Max hadn't properly celebrated a race win tonight like he usually did, this sort of celebration felt better than any others.

He walked away with a smile on his face that wasn't related to his victory at all. He was just looking forward to seeing you and Isabella again.

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly @llando4norris @wonnou @randomgirlnumber13 @dark-night-sky-99 @chanshintien @leilanixx @gisellesprettylies @peachiicherries @monsieurbacteria6 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @arian-directioner @distancedss @morenofilm @sachaa-ff @lighttsoutlewis @teamnovalak @casperlikej @sadg3 @d3kstar @lewisvinga @lpab @queenofmanydreams @glitterf1 @honethatty12 @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @its-avalon-08 @yourbane @oconswrld @noneofyourfbusinessworld @ssrcsm @softtina @namgification

#max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #thef1diary fic #f1 imagine #little big fan fic #fluff

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catboyieejeno · 3 months

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gameboy :: p.js — one

genre: gamer! jisung x gamer! reader, college au cw: female reader, fwb to lovers, explicit smut, pervy jisung, male masturbation, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, inexperienced jisung, cum play/breeding kink, pet names, slight humiliation kink, size kink, creampie, probably more wc: 18.257k

join the taglist for part two

18+ minors do not interact!

The red letters that flash across your screen read ‘Defeat’, illuminating your dimly lit room with a shy, red hue. The instant the word appears on your monitor, a voice blasts through your headset, erupting in emphatic complaints and protests. You can hear the clatter of a keyboard and mouse being shoved around on the other end of the receiver, and it takes everything in you to stifle your laugh.

“We definitely could’ve won that!” the boy scoffs, “I swear, sometimes it feels like you and I are the only people with any fucking game sense.”

“Wow, thanks for the validation,” you joke, instinctively queuing up for another match. Your eyes trail up to the little icon in the corner of the screen that glows green every time he speaks.

“You know what I mean,” he grumbles, and you imagine he must not look all that different from the little crying cat picture he set as his discord icon. The thought makes you snort, but he ignores you, stating, “I think this is my last game,”

You nod even though you know he can’t see you, “same, I have class tomorrow,”

“First day of the semester for you, too?”

You nod again. “Unfortunately. My days of gaming until four and sleeping until noon have come to an end.”

He laughs, leaning forward in his chair as he realizes something, “You know, I never asked what you’re studying,”

“Oh,” you blink, “Well, the first class I have tomorrow is just a random credit I needed, but I’m actually majoring in-”

It takes less than a few seconds for your words to drown out into a muffled buzz, and the only thing Jisung can focus on now is the silky, smooth sound of your voice.

He would never admit it, at least not out loud, but your voice makes his heart beat just a little faster. The way each and every word rolls off your tongue makes his breath hitch, imagination running wild at the thought of what your lips look like when they mold to form each syllable and sound.

Every night like clockwork, Jisung finds himself rocking side to side in his desk chair, eyes hanging low and round lips curved up into a smile as he listens to you speak.

It’s so easy to talk to him, too. By now, you’ve lost count of how many nights the two of you rambled off in voice chats, watching shows or playing video games or simply oversharing the details of your lives. It’s only been a few months since you met in a game chat, on that night where he practically harassed you for your discord after you carried him up a rank in-game. You’re secretly grateful he did, though you wouldn’t let him know that; the two of you effortlessly became part of each other’s daily routine, and now, calls with you are his favorite way to end the night. Tonight is no exception.

Jisung begins to mindlessly swing in his chair as usual. He’s humming passively between your small pauses to encourage you to keep going as his hands automatically start caressing his torso. It’s a somewhat innocent gesture, or at least it starts out that way: his palms sliding across the ridges of his abdomen as he listens to your voice. It’s better than music to his ears, and it urges his long fingers to dance closer and closer to his waistband.

“–and I thought about changing it, but I think with an degree in Lit, I could probably get a career in–”

Lost in your voice, Jisung slips his hands into his shorts, holding his balls as he fully zones out of the conversation. He knows you’re saying words and forming actual sentences, but his social awareness has dwindled completely and he absolutely can’t seem to get past how sweet you sound, and how much sweeter you would sound under… different circumstances. He moves up to hold his dick gently and furrows his brows. Almost accidentally, his thumb brushes along the underside of his tip, teeth clamping the inside of his cheek and gnawing on it to ground himself. Just as eager as its owner, Jisung’s dick jolts in his palm, progressively swelling up until it’s flushing bright pink.

“You’re into English?” He manages to stop daydreaming and hone into the conversation for a fleeting moment, just long enough to ask you that simple question and keep your attention off of his rapidly shifting breath.

He’s blatantly playing with himself now, ever so distractedly. It’s an autonomous act: the way the pad of his middle finger trails over his slit to collect a bit of the pre-cum that has begun to dribble out in pearly beads. He hisses, then quickly snaps his mouth shut in hopes that you hadn’t heard him.

“Yeah,” he can hear your smile in your words, “I think I always have been. I used to read all the time and—I swear, if you say I’m boring, I’ll personally come over and choke you–”

As he acknowledges reality for a quick moment, his pace falters. His brows pinch, and he feels confused as he realizes he can’t stop or even moderate his actions, despite the shame slowly beginning to wash over him. The more you talk, the harder he grows. His grip is getting tighter, his strokes needier… he must be losing his mind. With a gulp, he thinks to himself, what would you do if you could see him touching himself like this to you? Would you think it’s sick and twisted or would you offer to help him out? His head begins to throb as the room spins around him, but he really can’t seem to slow his motions. By now, he’s bucking his hips up and into his hand while the other covers his mouth, silencing the whines that threaten to leave his throat. He’s breathing heavily, praying to god you don’t somehow notice his perverted actions. Despite knowing that he isn’t thinking straight, Jisung can’t help the thoughts that continue to fog his mind, rampant and obscene.

Could you hear the squelching of his hand pumping his cock, covered in his pre-release? Or the way he’s practically panting, reduced to nothing at the mere sound of your voice? He’s not sure whether or not his mic would even pick that up, but even so, the corner of his lips curl into a lazy smile as his mind continues down his twisted rabbit hole.

In spite of not knowing what you look like, there’s no denying that he wants to give you all of him. He wants to feel himself buried deep inside your throat, your pretty voice vibrating around him as you choke on his length. He feels himself twitch in his palm and he subconsciously nods, picturing it's your walls around him instead of his own inadequate hand. Jisung huffs out once, fucking his fist wildly, picturing how much he’d like to feel himself bust inside of your warm, tight pus-

“Sung? Sung!”

“Huh? W-what?” As he yanks his hand from his shorts, the waistband snaps against his skin and he yelps out at the impact, “Sorry! I promise I was listening, it-its just, I got a little caught up with–” words are tumbling out of his mouth, before he can catch up to them.

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Hurry, just pick your agent before the match gets–” but the timer runs out, and the lobby screen appears once more as you sigh, “–canceled...”

Jisung glances down at his hand, separating his fingers and watching how the sticky pre-cum leaves webbed strings between each of his parted digits. His stomach is also wet, and the tent in his pants is growing increasingly painful with each passing second.

“What were you fantasizing about, huh?” Oh, fuck. The teasing edge in your words makes his nerves tingle, and he throws his head back as you hum into your mic, “Hmm. Well, I guess it was more interesting than what I was saying. Can’t blame you though, the topic of school is boring me too, and the semester hasn’t even started yet. Also, that can’t count as your last game. I literally won’t allow it.”

You queue up for another game and Jisung sighs, watching the timer on the screen tick away. The picture changes, and the two of you are prompted to start a game. A few kleenex wipes collect the mess on his hand and torso, and he settles back in his chair after tossing them, deciding his neediness will have to wait for now.

Bidding you good night is harder than usual tonight, but he knows you need to get to sleep—you mentioned you had an early class and he had his own, so his selfish urge to keep you talking until he came in his hand would, unfortunately, need to take a raincheck.

After logging off of his computer, Jisung drops his head into his hands with a sigh.

What the fuck even was that?

A mix of shame and arousal take over him as his cheeks begin glowing a deep shade of red. He lets out a small scoff, shaking his head to himself as he gets up from his chair. His dick is still as hard as a rock, and he can’t help but feel flustered at the fact that he has, quite literally, blue-balled himself.

With a towel swung over his shoulder and a clean pair of sleeping shorts clutched in his fist, Jisung walks up to the dorm’s nearest communal bathroom. He turns on the faucet, freeing himself of his clothes. The moment his boxers come down past his thighs, his length slaps against the skin below his navel, making him hiss out as he steps into the shower. The cold water, running down against his heated body, seems to be doing the trick of clearing his mind, that is, until his hands find their way to his stomach, rubbing the soap over it.

It’s so hard to expel the thoughts of you when they’re so intrusive and tempting, and Jisung lets his mind drift off once more, imagining how it would feel to be touched by you, sucked by you. All the soft noises you would make are weirdly familiar; he can practically hear them. His head falls back, lips caught between his teeth as he twitches and gives himself an experimental stroke, shuddering as his thumb glides across the slit of his sensitive tip. He clenches his eyes shut tighter, letting out a shaky sigh and letting the water continue to trickle down his body. He doesn’t know what you look like, other than your hair color which you mentioned the other day. Despite that, he still tries desperately to piece an image of you together behind his eyelids, picturing what your lips are like. And just like that, thoughts of you flood him, and he shudders at the vision of you on your knees, looking up at him with big, innocent eyes, begging to taste him and take all of him. He longs to feel you swallow around him—to grab either side of your face and thrust into your needy mouth until the tears slip from your eyes and your pussy is dripping from the need to be fucked.

Getting lost in the moment, he doesn’t even realize how loud he’s becoming and how fast his fist is working his dick. Jisung's highly anticipated release is only seconds away when a loud knock startles him, lunging him right back into his body.

“Yo, man! How long are you gonna take in there?” His friend and next door neighbor, Mark, shouts from the other side of the door, knocking again and ruining Jisung’s fantasy once and for all.

The boy takes a moment to clear his throat and swallow, not trusting his voice to not crack otherwise, “Uh.. Sorry. I’ll just be a minute.”

It takes everything in him to slow his hand to a stop and pry it off of his shaft, deciding that perhaps, he shouldn’t entertain his filthy thoughts any longer. He quickly finishes showering with another unnecessary interruption from Mark, then drags himself back to his room and gets into his bed, forcing his eyes shut in an attempt to sleep. The longer he lies there, however, the more restless he grows.

His dick feels sore to the touch and it’s driving him absolutely crazy. Every time he adjusts his shorts or moves his legs, his balls throb from how full they are. Knowing he has class to get to the following day, he tries to convince himself that maybe he needs a release to get to sleep. It’ll tire him out, and then finally, he’ll be able to get some rest…There’s at least a bit of logic to that theory, or that’s what he tells himself, anyway.

Against his better judgment that pleads with him to just shut his eyes and count sheep, Jisung huffs out and slips his hands into his shorts to begin touching himself for the nth time tonight. This whole time, he had been unknowingly edging himself and now he’s so, so undeniably and incredibly desperate to cum that it literally hurts.

His free hand brings his phone up and unlocks it, thumb swiping quickly in search of the discord app where your contact resides, the little green bubble next to it signifying that you’re still online. He hovers over the call button, taunting himself with the idea of making a call to you at this time. One little click, and he’d hear your voice again. Just one click and he-

sung ᨐฅ started a call. Today at 11:54 AM

Shit, shit, shit.

He rushes to hang up, but you’ve answered no more than a ring later.

“Hello?”

Jisung holds his rather unsteady breath, staring wide-eyed at his phone. His dick pulses in his palm that now rests still.

“Sung?”

As gently as possible, he lays the phone down on his puffed up chest, letting out his breath slowly so that you don’t hear him.

“I’m gonna assume you called me by accident… ” you sigh out in disappointment, growing quiet in uncertainty. For a second, Jisung is convinced you’re gonna hang up, but when you stay on the line, he peers down at the screen curiously.

Your icon lights up green and there’s some shuffling on your end, presumably from you getting comfortable in bed.

He hears you yawn and smiles fondly.

“I’m tired,” you mumble, “are you asleep? I was actually excited that you called. Maybe it’s my fucked up schedule… or, maybe I’m just dreading tomorrow, but I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know…”

You’re speaking slower and quieter than usual, but you’re speaking, completely oblivious of the fact that he’s thinking of the dirtiest things that involve you, getting off while you think he’s sound asleep.

“It’s always easier to sleep once we’ve talked so,” you pause, then sigh out jokingly, “I guess I'll just talk your unconscious ear off until I fall asleep…You don’t mind, right?”

God, no, he thinks.

Jisung silently celebrates your decision with a pump of his hand, shuffling a bit to get comfortable as you go on about genshin and cats and other things he can barely pay mind to. It takes no more than a few strokes, shallow ones where he caresses the angry head of his dick to the velvety sound of your slurred and drowsy mumbling, for him to bring himself to come so fucking hard.

His knees lock as his cock springs up in his clutched palm, spewing streams of white cum all over his stomach, chest, and thighs. The muscles on his abdomen ache from the way they contract, eyes and jaw shutting tightly as he challenges himself to remain quiet. The sheets aren’t spared from his thick load either, his nut dripping down the sides of his tummy to make dark, round puddles on his bed. His toes curl as he tries his hardest to not gasp out when the pleasure dissolves into sensitivity, digging his head back into the pillow with a hand clasped over his lips.

A few minutes later, the blurriness in his vision is relieved, along with the ringing in his ears. You’ve stopped talking; instead, the receiver picks up your short and shallow breaths, as if you’ve fallen asleep with your mouth open. Cute.

As he assesses the aftermath of his much needed release, he wishes he could snap a picture and send it to you, so that you’d wake up knowing this pathetic mess he made was all for you, because of you.

Alas, he can’t, and he hangs up once he’s completely sure you’re resting. With his eyelids feeling much heavier than before, he manages to toss his phone onto the nightstand before he, too, drifts off to sleep.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The following morning, Jisung wakes up in a bit of a panic. The first thing that throws him for a loop is the fact that his alarm didn’t go off at all. He quickly realizes he forgot to set it amidst the activities of the night before. The second thing that strikes him is his own hand that rests on his stomach, stuck in some kind of damp, sticky liquid. In his half-conscious state, he lifts his fingers and his puffy eyes widen as he identifies the clear fluid that decorates his tummy as his drying release from the night before.

“Ugh…” He grimaces, sitting up in his bed. His phone, which is less than half full of battery since he forgot to plug it in, blinks back the numbers 8:38 at him. Jisung’s eyes widen as he remembers that his first class of the day, of the semester, is at 9.

“Fuck!” In a flash, his blanket is flung off of him and his legs are swinging over the edge of the bed. He moves to grab some tissues from his nightstand, making aggressively desperate attempts at wiping away his cum. When the Kleenex sticks to him instead, he digs around his drawers for a pack of wet wipes, snatching a pair of pants off of the floor at the same time and practically yanking them up his legs.

Despite almost falling over, he manages to get them on and clean off his torso… for the most part. A random sweatshirt is tugged on over his head and he runs his hand through his hair a few times to tidy it before passively telling his reflection, this will do.

Moments later, he’s rushing downstairs and outside of the dormitory with his unzipped backpack hung over his shoulder. He rushes to unlock his bike, cursing as he fumbles with the keys. Once he’s on, he starts pedaling to the Science building on the other side of campus, heavily dreading checking the time in fear it’ll read some absurd number and he’ll wind up being much later than he anticipates.

The breath that’s been caught in his throat all morning is only released when he steps through the door of the lecture room to see that the professor hasn’t walked in yet, and that the clock reads that he’s 6 minutes early.

Finally slowing his rushed pace, Jisung does a quick once over the room to scan the faces of his fellow students before taking his seat somewhere near the back. Thanking the heavens that his notebook and textbook didn’t go tumbling out of his bag in the midst of his previous hurry, he tugs them out, flipping them open and writing the date on the first page. His laptop, which is where he had planned to take notes on, sits in his dorm room where he left it on his desk. Everyone else has theirs out, but he’ll just have to bring his own next time.

There’s a distant click, and the door on the lowest level of the lecture hall opens. Through it walks a relatively tall and slender lady, heels echoing rhythmically as she strides over to set her dark bag down by the podium. Her hair is tied back high and tight, so much so, that all of her features look like they're blending into her hairline. She looks like she’s somewhere in her mid-to-late fifties, and from the instant she walked in, the entire class went silent.

She clearly has a presence that commands attention and undoubtedly, she fits the visual profile of a strict college professor quite well, especially when she picks up the chalk and scribbles her surname onto the green chalkboard beside the larger projector screen.

“I’m Professor Hwang. Welcome to AST1002, also known as Descriptive Astronomy. If you’re here, that means you took AST1001 with Mr. Kwon last year. He has since transferred to a different department.”

There’s no audible response, although some disappointment does flash across the faces of the students in the room, all of whom did have (and seemingly would miss) Mr. Kwon. Professor Hwang doesn’t seem to notice the lack of responses, and continues speaking as she pulls some papers out.

“Firstly, I’ll take attendance. Then, I’ll pass the syllabus around. I would like for you to note,” she pauses to place a pair of red glasses high on the bridge of her nose, “that attendance is mandatory for my class, and worth 20% of your grade. I’ll go over pop quizzes and weekly quizzes, as well as the initial class project, when each of you have a copy of the syllabus. That being said, I look forward to seeing you all here every class. Please call out when you hear your name.”

As she starts to take attendance, Jisung takes the time to sigh into his hands, both exhausted and dreading the fact that he’d have to spend three days out of the week rotting in a lecture hall to attend a class he expected to be fun, or at the very least a break from his much more difficult core classes. By the looks of it, that’s no longer the plan.

It’s easy to zone out quickly while his mind is still foggy, no doubt from the lack of sleep and the subsequent abrupt awakening that followed. He had just begun an attempt to read the syllabus when something made his ears perk.

Immediately, his head snaps up in pursuit of a soft and airy voice that just responded to Professor Hwang. It’s so quick and in passing that he almost thinks he might have imagined it in his delirious state, but the way the hair on his limbs stands on end is unmistakable. His eyes dart around the room, hitting his classmate’s heads like targets, but there’s absolutely no way to identify the individual who just spoke.

Could it be… No. No way.

Jisung is no stranger to daydreaming about you, but he isn’t completely delusional. He knows the chances of being not only in the same city, but the same university and class as you are absolutely slim to none, so he stops that train of thought dead in its tracks.

It does segway him into thinking of you, though. You’re obviously not here, so he wonders instead what class you are in at the moment. He tries to picture what you’re wearing on your first day of class, trusting you look more put together than him in his old hoodie that is slightly sticking to the dry cum on his stomach. Do you like your classmates? Your professor? He sincerely hopes you have a more tolerable one than he does.

“Park Jisung?”

With a slight cough, he spits out a weak “h-here.” and instantly grimaces, raising his shoulders autonomously as if he would get scolded for stammering so pathetically. The professor, to his relief, doesn’t even glance up from the roster. Then, he feels quite silly for even thinking he would get reproached for that to begin with. In his defense, she’s a rather intimidating woman, and his inner monologue is so loud and flooded with thoughts of you that he fears she may have heard it.

She finishes calling for attendance, resorting to striding up and down the aisles as she begins to dissect the syllabus. In an effort to pretend he’s paying attention, Jisung glances down at the size twelve font on the page, skimming over the words without really taking anything in. During one of the professor’s paces, a pen she had resting on her ear slips and falls towards the ground with a slight clatter, and it seems a student picked it up for her, because there’s a slight mumbling, followed by a sharp “thank you,” and a very, very recognizable,

“You’re welcome, Professor.”

His eyes widen at once. Alright, call him crazy, but now he thinks that it really might have been your voice. The familiar timbre, warm and delicate; a sound he’s heard for months on end and knows embarrassingly well… The thought of being in the same room as you out of sheer luck and coincidence makes his abdomen twist and his palms sweat so bad, he has to wipe them on his pants.

He hates that he can’t fully tell, in fact, he’s almost ashamed that he can’t; before today, Jisung would have sworn up and down that he knew your voice better than even his own, but you sound so far and so quiet that he can’t completely bet all of his marbles. Then, he quickly realizes calling it ‘your voice’ definitely makes him sound delusional, even in the safety of his own forgiving conscience. He decides to call it ‘the voice’ for now, at least until he’s a hundred-percent sure.

An irritatingly long hour and half later, the only sound that continues to ring around the lecture hall is Professor Hwang’s monotone one, reciting each and every itemized assignment and rule on the never-ending syllabus. There’s less than fifteen minutes until class is over, and she shows no signs of stopping her dissertation.

“As for the class project: In pairs of two, you will research a constellation extensively to create a presentation on its formation, who cataloged it, and the Greek myth that may accompany it. Please note that this is the first and last time we will talk about constellations in this class, since they are not cosmic phenomenons but instead, a mere roadmap to the objects and themes we will be focusing on. Consider this strictly as an opportunity to familiarize yourselves with another classmate and show me your interest and effort in the subject. That concludes our syllabus,” Thank God, Jisung thinks.

“Any questions?” She glances around at a hand that floats in the air, near the front of the room, “yes?”

“Will we be able to select our partners?”

“No. Partners will be assigned at the end of the week. Yes?” She calls on another hand.

“As for the constellations,” Wait, that’s it! That’s the voice—that’s your voice, he’s completely sure of it! “Will you assign those as well?”

Jisung elongates his neck to try and peek over the heads in his way. It is you, he’s positive now, but you’re turned away from him, and he can’t fully make out which ‘back of the head’ is your ‘back of the head.’ The echo in the hall makes it nearly impossible to pinpoint who just spoke which means he can’t pinpoint you. For some reason, he finds himself slightly panicking, desperate to finally see you in person.

He follows Professor Hwang's line of sight as she answers that she’ll assign the constellations on Friday too, and finally finds you, seated between a few other students. A few more questions are thrown around, but his eyes never leave you, anticipating the moment he catches a glimpse of your face.

Naturally, his first instinct is to approach you as soon as class is out, but when he sees you spin around to pick up your bag that hangs off your chair, he finds himself glued to his own flimsy seat. Feet stuck to the ground, legs not budging, and air hitched in his throat at the sight of you.

You’re so, so much prettier than he could have imagined with whatever unoriginal features he tried to piece together in his lacking mind, and that fact makes him both exhilarated and completely nauseous.

He’s barely been looking at you for a few seconds when he feels his insatiable cock growing fast in the confines of his pants, with no regard for its owner and the fact that he has to stand up within the next minute or so to exit the hall. Jisung curses under his breath, awkwardly rising to his feet when most of his classmates leave, his bag clutched tightly in front of his groin. He prays you don’t glance over, not even because he has a semi-hard on he’s failing to hide with dissimulation, but because he’s staring at you like some sort of freak and can’t seem to look away.

There’s nothing he wants more than to come up to you and say hi and confess he’s the person you’ve been gaming with for months. He’s pictured it countless times before, you’d think he’d have it down by now, but your beauty is intimidating, and he simply cannot and will not make a fool of himself in front of you by greeting you with a raging boner.

You walk out of the classroom and Jisung’s heart settles in his chest as he sits with his decision to stay anonymous for now.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

“She was obnoxious, you have no idea!”

“My teacher wasn’t much different,” he admits, a small, knowing smile toying at his lips, “she seemed like a real bitch,”

It’s later that same evening, and talking to you doesn’t really feel the same anymore. It’s much harder, because now, Jisung can vividly picture you, sitting in your chair with your hands on your keyboard and mouse. Every word you say, his imagination is right thereafter, picturing your pretty face clear as day in the forefront of his mind.

The moment he got home, he fucked his fist until he came in his hand. It took about five minutes, and then he pumped another one out in the shower, (a much needed shower, at that) where he finally washed away the remains of the night before.

After he had lunch with Mark and the other boys from his floor, they had invited him to play basketball. At the same time, however, he received a direct message from you, explaining you didn’t have any other classes for the day and asking if he could get on earlier.

It’s a little ridiculous, but now that he’s seen you, now that he knows you’re so much closer than he initially thought, he can’t wait to talk to you again. And so he quickly came up with an empty excuse related to his studies, took the berating from his friends like a champ, and rushed upstairs to log into his PC and open up your chat.

“Not only do we already have a project, but we don’t even get to pick our partners.”

I know! He thinks.

“Like,” you start, and he pictures the way your cheeks fill up with air as you let out a huff, “what if I get stuck with some weirdo?”

Instantly, Jisung stops palming himself, letting his hand climb back up to the mouse slowly.

He probably shouldn’t let that innocent statement affect him as much as it does, but he can’t help it. He has the advantage, right? Or, at least it seems that way.

When everything is laid out, he has the upperhand of knowing who you are—you haven’t seen him, yet… but what if you did see him, and he wasn’t at all what you were expecting? Or even worse, what if you got paired together for the project and you thought he was weird or the two of you didn’t get along? That option is far less likely, since there are well over fifty students in AST1002.

“I don’t know,” you start, “I’m considering switching out of the class-”

“No!” Wow. Good going, Jisung.

He catches his slip-up and quickly blurts out, “I-I mean, it might not be that bad! You should… at least give it a shot before you try to switch out, right?”

“I guess you’re right… The add and drop period at my school is until next Friday, so I'll try it out until then.”

Great! Perfect! Good save. The only problem now is: Jisung has a little over a week and a half to somehow convince you to stay in his class and at the same time, not completely butcher his introduction to you. Approaching you now seems practically impossible, but he needs you to stay in the class, even if it means he has to come up to you first. He can’t be bothered to care that his insistence is for his own selfish intentions, if it means getting to see you three times a week.

“But anyway,” he clears his throat, changing the topic as quickly as possible, “how did your other class go?”

“Much better than the first, the teacher let us out early once he covered the books we’d be analyzing this semester and attendance isn’t mandatory since most of the material is online or in the library. I think I’ll swing by there one of these days to see if I can get ahead on some of the assignments.”

“Oh, so you’re a nerd?” You gasp and smack his character in-game a few times. He laughs, calling out, “okay, okay, truce! You’re not a nerd then, just an overachiever.”

“How so?”

“We’re barely a day into the semester and you’re already trying your homework that I’m sure isn’t due for at least a few weeks,”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s right. With a bit of playful flirtation twisted into your tone, you hum out, “What can I say? I like to please.”

One of his eyebrows perks up, “is that right?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He can hear your smirk through the screen, and now, he can vividly picture it, too.

Jisung scoffs, backing away from your character so that he’s out of your sight. He cowers into a corner in game; this way, you don’t notice how he stops moving when his left hand leaves the w,a,s,d keys to cup and rub his needy bulge.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

Wednesday’s class is somehow packed and entirely uneventful at the same time. The first of Professor Hwang’s dragging lectures is so loaded that Jisung actually thanks the heavens that he remembered to bring his laptop. Otherwise, his notebook would have been about halfway full already, and his hand? It would have fallen off.

On another relevant note, he’s struggling to stay focused because today, he is sitting much closer to you. Intentionally, of course. There’s still a few rows between him and you, but in this new seat, he can glance at you as often as he’d like without straining his eyes or stretching out his neck to make his gawking painfully obvious. He can clearly make out your smooth skin, along with other details he wasn’t able to notice before like your beauty marks and your dainty earrings. You’re paying unfaltering attention to the class for the first hour, but after the sixty-minute mark, you appear to have become bored. He catches the way your pencil starts doodling along the corners of your notebook and it takes everything in him not to snort when you scribble down a wonky looking cat.

He’s so distracted by you, that every couple of slides, he glances back to the projector to see that the class is now on an entirely different topic than the one he last managed to jot down. He doesn’t mind, though. You’re a much more enthralling sight than quasars and supernovas.

Halfway through the lesson, you decide to peel off your little black cardigan and hang it on the back of your chair, exposing your arms and neck and shoulders to him. Your hair is tied up neatly right after, giving him all the more to gawk at and envision. Jisung has to remind himself that he’s in a classroom just so that he doesn’t start fantasizing about how it would feel to grip your hair up in a similar fashion and fill your throat up with his dick.

With great difficulty, he directs his focus to the board instead, typing quickly into his laptop all the notes he manages to catch before the slide changes again and Professor Hwang’s narrow eyes can scan the room to see who’s paying attention.

When the class is over, you start talking with the girl next to you, aimlessly reaching back for your bag. The gesture makes your cardigan fall, and Jisung has to fully bite his tongue to keep himself from calling out your name and giving himself away. He waits to see if you’ll notice, or if someone nearby will alert you, but neither one happens. Instead, you stand up, still engrossed in your conversation, and make your way towards the door. Instantly, he jogs down the aisle and between the seats to grab it and wordlessly hand it to you, but by the time he makes a move to head in your direction, you’ve already left.

He feels disappointed at first, but the feeling quickly shifts into relief. Wordlessly hand it to you? Does he want your first impression of him to be awkward and borderline rude? No and definitely no. This problem has a simple solution—it’s a blessing in disguise; he’ll take your cardigan home and bring it to you on Friday and maybe, if his courage allows, he can introduce himself then.

“Hey! I noticed you left your sweater here last class. I brought it for you. Oh, and by the way, it’s me! I’m @sung.ie. How did I know it was you? I can recognize your voice across a huge lecture hall.”

Yeah… he’ll think more on that later.

With your cardigan clutched in his fist, Jisung sighs, making his way outside and towards his bicycle. He tucks the clothing item into his backpack and pedals back home, wondering how he’s going to manage to give it back to you since you always get to and leave class before him.

He knows some of his friends and dorm-mates have their own class today, they had exchanged schedules during lunch a few days ago, which leaves him to hope and pray you’ve decided to skip your class and get online. As he parks his bicycle downstairs and locks it, he slips his phone from his pocket and opens discord, but your bubble remains gray and cold. You’re offline.

Maybe you haven’t gotten home yet. He checks his phone again when he gets upstairs, and again when he goes inside his dorm, tossing his bag aside and crashing on his bed. He checks after losing a round of candy crush, and again after replying to a text from his mom.

By the looks of it, you were in class, or at the very least, not available for the moment. Jisung sighs, pretending he’s not actually as disappointed as he feels. It seems a bit dramatic to feel the need to kill time until he gets to talk to you again so he resorts to doing physics homework—a short baseline his teacher assigned that wouldn’t be graded—and tricking his brain into thinking the former is not what he’s actually doing.

When he pulls his bag off his desk chair to grab his laptop, your cardigan comes into view, and he pauses to look at it. He sits like this for a moment, wondering if he should fold it nicely on his dresser so he can remember to take it to you, but his hands act before his mind can catch up, reaching in and basically shoving the material toward his face.

With his nose buried in your scent, Jisung inhales deeply, sinking into his chair as his legs grow weaker. The trace of your floral softener is the first aroma he gets, and then, the smell of your perfume peeks through, soft and sweet and very fitting for you. Once more, his treacherous hands are acting for themselves and he’s suddenly undoing his belt single-handedly.

Once his dick, growing by the minute, is out and clutched in his palm, he finally retracts your sweater. With little hesitation, he wraps it around his erection and pumps once, throwing his head back in immediate relief.

It’s a fucking miracle that his room is the last one at the end of the hall, and that his next door neighbors, Renjun and Jaemin, are both in their afternoon lectures, because nothing would have been able to muffle the wanton moan that rips from his chest as he strokes himself with your scent. His hips are bucking up into the air, and in only a few minutes, he’s broken a slight sweat. His balls tighten from sheer sensitivity at the act of fucking something directly related to you.

A cry of your name, followed by a few more pumps and he’s coming inside your mangled cardigan, his white release breaching the thin material. It seeps through it like light through a veil, gathering thickly on top before spreading into a dark, wet patch. There’s a shudder that passes through his bones as he sits back, burying his cock into the fabric and keeping it there until he’s given up every last drop.

The only thing that snaps him from his post-nut bliss, is the distinct discord ring-tone that blasts through his headset. His computer monitor turns on as your icon appears and simultaneously, his heart and dick both twitch.

“Hello?” With his output device swung over his head, he presses the green ‘answer’ button and speaks into the mic, hiding his slight shortness of breath with a yawn.

“I’m so glad you answered,” you beam, and he does too, “I was worried I had called while you were in class or something,”

As he speaks, he wipes the remnants of his cum off with your cardigan and puts it aside on his desk, tucking his softening (and still very sensitive) dick away into his boxers, “No, you’re good. I had a class earlier today but now I’m free.”

“What a relief,” you sigh, “Would you want to have a little homework ‘sesh’ with me? I just found out the library doesn’t have any available labs. I doubt I’ll be able to concentrate much with you but at least I'll be in good company.”

“Like an e-date?”

“We can call it that,” you grin, then he pictures your expression becoming a gloom one to match your slightly sadder tone as you admit, “Sometimes I wish we went to the same school so we could meet up and study at a coffee shop.”

He snorts, unable to help but crack a joke, “Like a real date?”

Your laugh makes his heart swell slightly. When you reply, “Maybe,” it starts flipping wildly in his chest.

God, you can’t even begin to imagine how badly he wants that.

“That would be nice,” he agrees humbly, a blush creeping on his cheeks. “What class are you gonna study for?”

There’s a pause before you speak again where you hum in thought, flipping through a few pages and shuffling through your bag. Jisung joins you, grabbing his laptop and school supplies, “I have a project for my astronomy class. It’s related to constellations and I wanna start researching them so that I can make an outline for the assignment,”

He looks through his math notes with his brows furrowed down, “I thought she was gonna assign them on Friday?”

Your icon flickers as you reply, “She is, but I want to—wait. How did you know that?” At your words and the realization of his untimely slip up, Jisung’s body goes rigid. He can only imagine the confusion on your features, and he’s quite relieved you can’t see the look on his. If his eyes were to open any wider, he’s sure they might just slip out of his head.

“Oh, um,” he clears his throat mechanically, then gulps in an effort to lubricate it and keep his voice steady, assertive, certain. “You mentioned it on Monday, remember?”

“Did I?” You didn’t, but he really hopes you think you did. “Probably,” At that, he lets out the air he’s holding, shaking his head slightly at himself for being so careless.

“But um, yeah,” he starts before you can give it any further thought, “If she’s assigning them Friday why are you working on it today?”

“Cause she’s also assigning partners on Friday, and I don’t really know anyone besides the girl who sits next to me and I doubt I’ll get paired with her. I want to make sure my grade is secured, you know? I’ve never liked group projects. I feel like all the work gets dumped on me.”

He’s still not entirely sure what you mean to do, or how you intend to create a blueprint of sorts without knowing what it was for, and so he stops flicking through his page of notes to look up at his monitor and ask, “But if you don’t know which constellation you’re gonna work on, how are you gonna make an outline?”

You ponder his question for a moment, then mumble out, “She didn’t mention a rubric or anything, so I figured that as long as I plan out the different sections and give the project a structure, half of the work is cut out, right? I can just assign parts at that point.”

“You’re that kinda person in a group project? I’m sorry to whoever gets partnered with you,” He’s not sorry, not at all. He’s rather envious, actually, despite his attempts to sound indifferent or amusing. Being granted time to spend with you at your place or his, or at the library or the local campus cafe, would be a no less than perfect ice breaker. Jisung would make sure you never felt like all the research and assembling depended solely on you—in fact, he could see himself now, spending countless hours perfecting the details of his assigned part and inquiring about other suggestions to improve the project, just to impress you or at the very least, satisfy you. The reality that someone else would get to do all of that in his place is disheartening.

You guys had rarely ever talked about school before now, since neither of you actually were enrolled in any classes when you started chatting, but now that it’s relevant, he feels like he understands a whole different side of you. You’re organized, and obviously very studious. Hell, you’ve been itching to get started on assignments that haven’t even been assigned yet. You’re responsible, dependable, funny, beautiful, and every time he thinks of you lately, he realizes that his innocent crush is slowly becoming an insatiable one.

“Hey! I’d be very nice if it was you, you know. Show you some favoritism,” the corners of his lips twitch upwards—“But I’m also glad it’s not you,”—and fall down again.

“What? Why?” He tries to not sound too offended.

“I’d end up talking your ear off, Sung.”

“I’m already used to that, don’t mind it. Kinda like it, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods curtly, even though there’s a monitor and an entire school campus between you and him and he knows you have no way of seeing his gesture. There's a moment of silence that you spend taking a brief breath as a glow tinges your cheeks.

With a stifled laugh, you open your mouth again, “I think it’s just because you like me that you tolerate my rambling,”

“No.” He’s quick to clarify, “I really do like it.” He loves it.

“And me?” your voice is much quieter, almost giving the impression that you’re shy in asking something so decisive and direct. Jisung, emboldened by your vulnerability, and the distance the screen puts between you two, answers with certainty.

“I like you, too.”

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

“The constellation project, as I mentioned during your first class, is a tool for you to acquaint yourself with your classmates. It will be due in 3 weeks, and you can check the syllabus for specifications regarding that. After today, there will be no changing partners or constellations so should you need any changes to be made, you have until class is dismissed. Listen closely as I read out the pairs for the project. I will not repeat myself.”

The sharp tone he’s growing more and more distaste for by the day drowns out as Jisung glances over at you. Today, you’re sporting a bone-colored long sleeve and corduroy pants with half of your hair held back in a shiny clip. You look ravishing. Truthfully, he can’t really tell if you’re wearing makeup or not—although he concludes it doesn’t matter. Your features are soft and pretty nonetheless, and your cheeks have turned rosy from the dropping autumn temperatures.

“Yu Karina will be partnered with Lee Heesung. Your constellation is Cassiopeia.”

When you walked into the lecture hall this morning, there was a hot coffee cup with the campus cafe’s logo on it clutched in your hands, which you sipped on while shivering. Taking your usual seat, you greeted the girl next to you, who Jisung now knew was called Yu Karina.

The dark haired girl perked up when Professor Hwang called her name and waved down the aisle at who he can only assume is Lee Heesung, her partner, then whispered something to you. You looked over at the boy and back at Karina, nodding and giggling with her.

“Jennifer Huh, partnered with Ning Yizhuo,” Professor Hwang referenced her other list, “Constellation: Cancer.”

The two girls greet each other with a look and a smile, but Jisung pays little mind. He’s listening intently—for the first time—in anticipation of hearing one of your names be called. He doesn’t exactly know your full name, only a nickname he refers to you as, the one attached to your discord handle. Otherwise, pinpointing you that first day of class would’ve been much easier.

“Park Jay and Lee Sohee, your constellation is Orion.”

Sitting there, he realizes that in all the months you’ve talked, he’s never once asked for your full first name. Is that strange? What kind of friend is he if he doesn’t even know your name? In all fairness, you never asked for his, either, so he supposes it’s okay. Would have been useful to know, though, at times like this.

After his small confession of ‘like’ on Wednesday, the two of you went on studying your respective subjects, with the occasional (and inevitable) distraction here and there. Admittedly, he thought his comment would be forgotten rather quickly. It wasn’t like he outwardly poured his heart out to you, so he figured you’d move on and just crack a joke or two about it later. There was a change, though; a strikingly obvious one to Jisung, who hangs on your every word like it’s a tether that keeps him from floating. And, even if he didn’t pay such close attention to you, there’s no way he could have missed the new flirtatious ambiance that flourished afterwards. Flirting with you is not uncommon by any means—the two of you playfully tease each other with frequency, but it’s nothing he’d allow himself to look into too much, for his own sake.

That changed in the hours following his comments. All of Wednesday evening, the two of you went back and forth, feeding each other compliments in the form of banter. Again, he thought it would end there, but on Thursday afternoon when you logged on, he asked how your progress was going with the outline, to which you texted back, “I was thinking of you all day. Didn’t get around to doing much else.”

It wasn’t the only message from you that nurtured his feelings, either. There were enough substantially flirty messages from your conversation that night, that he was able to scroll through them and reread them a few times before bed.

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 6:49PM

hi did you smile when you saw my name pop up on your phone just now

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 8:22 PM

you’re so cute

i can barely think

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 9:14 PM

i feel like my day doesn’t make sense if we don’t talk

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 10:58 PM

i should get to sleep

but i don’t wanna stop texting you

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 12:02 AM

goodnight, sung <3 miss you til’ you’re back

Now, as he eyes you with a boyish, lovesick gaze, watching you doodle your stupid little drawings as you await your assignment, he finds himself praying for the courage to come up to you after class.

Professor Hwang calls your name next, something he only realizes at the fitting similarity of your nickname and the way your pen meets the table in alert to being called on, head lifting up and eyes blinking expectantly.

“Your partner will be,”

Jisung holds his breath, chanting in his head ‘please, oh, please let it be me,’

“Lee Chan.”

Wishful thinking never got anyone anywhere, then. He ignores the way his heart sinks into the pits of his stomach, unable to help but observe your curious gaze as it looks around the filled seats. For a fleeting moment, you meet his eyes, but he doesn’t react or claim to be Lee Chan who you so evidently are in search of, and so you pass him and keep studying the aisles. After a few seconds, you find no one gazing back, even after you slightly stand to peer above the nearby heads that obscure your view.

“Your constellation is-”

With a cautious raise of your hand, you interrupt Professor Hwang gently, “Excuse me, Professor, but I don’t think my partner is here.”

For a moment, her lazer-like gaze looks like it could light you on fire, a consequence of daring to interrupt her, but it softens only slightly as she realizes the truth in your statement, scanning the room herself and calling out for the missing boy. Upon receiving no call back, she thinks for a moment, then looks back down at her clipboard and crosses something out.

“I did mention attendance was mandatory, didn’t I?” This she mutters to herself, “No matter. Instead, you’ll work with,” she gives the paper another once over, then clicks her pen and speaks, “Park Jisung.”

In an awkward burst of both excitement and confusion, Jisung darts out of his chair. His knee hits his desk with a clang, and his laptop would have gone flying if it wasn’t for his quick hands that catch it before it can fall. The loud ruckus turns several heads in his direction, including Professor Hwang’s and more importantly, yours.

Feeling an awful lot like a deer caught in headlights, Jisung blinks as the two of you make eye-contact, then he takes his seat again, very quickly by the way. “Uh, that’s me,” he announces, heat spreading across his face and eyes darting around, “Sorry.”

Does he feel more sorry to his teacher and classmates for disrupting the classroom, or to himself and you for the absolute fool he has just made of himself? As much as he’d like to tear his gaze away from yours and cast it to the ground in embarrassment, it remains stuck on you, awaiting your impending reaction.

You’re rather unsure how to feel, though given, a little surprised at the commotion. You offer him a small smile through pursed lips, and Jisung nods, willing with all his might for a hole to open in the ground beneath him and swallow him.

“Thank you, Mr. Park, for your remarkably clear confirmation. Your constellation is Gemini.”

You turn in your chair to face the front again, scribbling down his name in the corner of your notebook, as well as the constellation you’d been assigned.

“He’s cute,” Karina comments to you as you look over at her, and you finally let out a small laugh you had been holding in.

“He is. Clumsy,” you snort, “but cute.”

“We both got cute partners. We should meet up at the library later and all get started on the project together,”

You nod enthusiastically, going back to your outline that sits at the ready on your laptop screen and making quick work of labeling the different sections evenly. If it wasn’t so obvious for you to spin around and steal a glance, you might have done so again. You’re certainly tempted to, thinking back to seconds ago and realizing you hadn’t really noticed him the last two classes.

Jisung watches your exchange with his dignity at serious risk. He’s entirely unable to hear or make out what you’re saying to each other, and it makes his pulse pick up and his mind race. He considers many things as he watches the two of you talk: firstly, asking to change his partner, but then realizing that would be an awful idea. Once you knew who he was, how would you ever forgive him for immediately ditching you? Absolutely not. Cowering had gotten him nowhere so far.

Then, he considers switching out of the class himself, and disappearing, never to reveal himself to you—but that wasn’t the right thing to do either. Incapable of checking out of your life so quickly and denying himself the treat that is seeing you three times a week (and now, possibly more), he cans that idea, too.

As Professor Hwang finishes reading off the list of names, he begins planning what he’ll actually say to you, as that conversation is just minutes away. There’s less than a half-hour left of class, which means he has to think hard and fast.

As he busies himself with the grueling task of picking an appropriate and redeeming introduction, he doesn’t hear the new instructions from Professor Hwang, which are to find your partner and begin brainstorming, as well as exchanging schedules to set aside time outside of class to work on the presentation. A shadow falls over his desk and consumes his work space in darkness. When his curiously squinted eyes trail up to find the source, only to land on you, hovering above him with your things clutched in your arms, he grips his seat to keep from jumping out of it for the second time today.

“Is this seat taken?”

So much for having time to figure out how to approach you. His heart does a leap of surprise in his chest in place of his physical body, and he resists the urge to clutch it.

“No.” He replies shortly.

With your unfaltering, kind smile still present on your face, you laugh softly and place your things down, introducing yourself.

“You’re Ji-sun, right?”

“—Sung.” he politely corrects you. When you don’t immediately react, he wonders if you had even heard him. He doesn’t put it past himself to have imagined that he replied to you, between his sweating palms and nervous jittering, and your pretty self sitting just a foot away, he’s barely keeping it together. After a moment that feels infinitely longer than it actually is, you raise your eyebrows slightly, round lips parted to ask your question with a palpable hesitance.

“W-what?”

“Jisung,” he quickly replies, pronouncing the ‘g’ clearly and masking the way his eyes widen with a heavy blink that honestly, may not serve as any better of a guise. He pleads with himself to get his shit together but luckily, you don’t seem to notice.

“Oh, sorry… Sorry, It’s just—nevermind. Hi, Jisung.”

“Hi, Y/N.” He savors the way your name feels on his tongue but keeps his enjoyment brief.

“I hope you don’t mind,” you start, lifting the screen of your laptop to reveal the very same outline you had started working on during your last call with him, “but I already made an outline. If you wanna scrap it and start all over, we can—”

“No, It’s fine, we can use this,” when you give him an unsure look, he smiles reassuringly, “It looks brilliant.”

“Thank you.” There’s a pause that is filled only by you clearing your throat, “Ok, I have a literature class right after this one on Mondays and Wednesdays. The rest of my classes are online, so I’m free at any time, really. I usually like to study at the computer labs in the library, it’s nice and private there and I find it much easier to focus. But if you don’t want to go there, we could always go to the cafe or the square for some fresh air. Oh, and either one of our dorm rooms works fine if you’re okay-”

To experience your presence on a phone call is one thing, but to experience it in real life, with your clear voice so arresting and your silky, smooth lips within reach, is absolutely mesmerizing. He’s fighting the urge to glance down at your mouth, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to sustain eye contact, as lovely as he decides your eyes are. Another thing that is becoming exponentially harder, and more sensitive all the same, is his cock, springing to life with an eagerness to greet you.

There’s a bit of panic that flashes across his features as he senses the strain it’s causing in his pants, and only when you look down at your outline does he dare to sneak a glance down at his own groin where as expected, a noticeable imprint was beginning to develop. In a desperate gesture, he slides his notebook over his lap, suppressing a hiss, and leans forward to pretend to use his own laptop.

“Any of those work for me,”

“Okay, great,” You notice the time and turn back to him. “You can just message me when you’re free.”

“Sure.”

“And here’s my number—” you reach over, sliding the protective notebook from his lap and placing it on your desk, scribbling your number in the corner. Jisung immediately readjusts his hoodie, throwing the hem of it over his boner. Professor Hwang dismisses the class as you pass it back.

“Call me whenever you’re free.” With a spin of your heel, you wave goodbye to him and rejoin Karina, who waits for you at the door with her partner.

Jisung lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and looks down at the number you wrote. Beside the digits, written in very neat handwriting, might he add, sat perched on a wobbly branch a little black cat that he recognized from his hours of staring as one of your doodles.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The time is 4:33PM, and Jisung has drafted over a dozen messages on the iMessage app addressed to your number. None of them have exactly made it to you yet, courtesy of his thumb that keeps pressing backspace and wiping out any trace of a remotely embarrassing text. It’s the next day and no introduction or invitation to meet up seems like it’s good enough to send, though he knows that inevitably, he has to text you first. You left your number behind with the doodle that he has since stuck to the corner of his PC monitor, but you never took down his; so now, the ball is in Jisung’s court, and he knows that if he waits too long, you’d think he was avoiding you or the project altogether.

Realistically, he knows a simple “Hi, it’s Jisung,” will suffice, but he can’t bring himself to send you such an unoriginal and boring message. After pondering for a moment, he then decides the best solution would be to do some research, and then call you with his findings—this way, his interest in the project would be clear, and he knows how important that is to you.

At once, he peels your cum-stained cardigan off of his lap, though not before stealing a glance at the day’s new additions, and places it aside. He tucks his spent dick into his short and turns on his monitor, typing the name of the constellation into Google and investigating nearly every website he could find with any useful information.

In the nicest handwriting he can manage, Jisung bullets a list of all the facts and history he could find on ‘Gemini’ within the hour, including the stars that make up the constellation, the myth behind it, and other relevant statistics. It isn’t until he has filled up an entire page front and back—partially—that he picks up his phone again and makes another attempt at contacting you.

Feeling slightly more confident, he types up his message.

To: 555-111-0205

hi, it’s jisung from astronomy. i did some research and i wanted to show you what i found. let me

know if you’re free to exchange notes. Sent at 5:52 PM.

Jisung rereads over his message for any flaws, though there’s nothing he can do about it now that it’s sent, anyway. After he deems it an okay first message, he takes a breath and moves to put his phone down, but it buzzes in his hand instead.

Incoming call at 5:54 PM From: 555-111-0205

“Hi-”

“Hi! Sorry to just call unannounced but I’m walking to the library with all my stuff and I can’t really text. I was able to book us a computer lab for the next two hours so If you want, we—can you hear me?”

He sits up straighter, “Yeah! Yes, I can hear you,”

“Oh, good, so—wait, hello?” Your voice shifts in volume and proximity, as if you pulled your phone from your ear to check the call screen, then brought it back, “Oh, sorry. I-I thought I had accidentally called someone else… nevermind.” Instantly, Jisung realizes instantly that you must have recognized his voice. It makes sense, seeing as you’re used to hearing it specifically on calls. You seem to show no further suspicion as you continue speaking, though, but perhaps, he should keep talking on the phone with you to a minimum.

“Do you think you can make it? Otherwise I can go work on my own. I saw your text and instantly booked the room. Sorry for not checking in with you first,”

“I’ll meet you there,” He replies quickly, grimacing at the instinctual effort it takes to try and make his voice deeper.

“Okay! Great. I’ll see you there, then.” You hang up, and then your text message comes through with the lab room information just minutes later.

Jisung all but lunges out of his chair and rushes to face himself in the mirror, taking in his reflection. Besides his hair that looks slightly disheveled, he looks alright. He doesn’t want to make you wait long for him, so he quickly grabs his laptop and his notes, shoves them all into his bag, and flies out of his dorm room with the laces of his sneakers left untied.

In the brightly, yellow-lit hallway, Mark and Chenle are popping out of their respective rooms, a basketball clutched under the younger boy’s arm.

“We were just about to come grab you,” Chenle starts, “Let’s play some ball. Jeno’s meeting us at the court,”

“Can’t,” Jisung shakes his head, “I’m going to the library,” he tries to not get offended at the way the two boys snort loudly in disbelief, looking at each other as if they’ve both had the same thought.

“Yeah, right.” Chenle scoffs.

With a blink, Jisung replies meekly, “I’m serious.”

“Since when do you go to the library?” Mark brows pinch and he adds, “It’s the start of term. You’re already studying?”

“Since now, I guess. I have a project for a class so I’m gonna go meet up with my partner at the library, but I’ll catch you guys later.”

“Alright, alright. Oh—remember there’s a party next week at Jaehyun’s frat for syllabus week.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” His answer doesn’t seem to fully convince Mark, Chenle, or even himself, but they seem satisfied enough, because they let Jisung go without any more pestering. He flies down the flight of stairs and out the front door of the dormitory.

The cold September air is biting at this time in the evening, feeling particularly cool on the apples of his cheek, which glow from the light layer of sweat that develops during his jog over to the library. It’s a considerable distance away, which is part of the reason why he, in his two years of being a student at the university, has never seriously stepped foot inside of it. Studying in his room is much more convenient, but you seem to like the library, so the twenty-minute-walk there, or in this case, fifteen-minute-jog, will simply have to be adopted as a new way to get in some brief exercise a few times a week.

More than likely, you have already arrived, and Jisung doesn’t want to make you wait too long for him, especially since there’s a two-hour time limit on the room and he intends to spend as much time with you there as he can. He wipes his cheeks with his gray sleeves and climbs up the stairs of the building quickly, swiping his student card at the door and stepping inside.

The ceiling is massively tall, seemingly taller than when he once saw it during freshman orientation, and the endless rows of shelves are filled with books, ranging from thin, colorful novels to thick, leather-bound classics. It’s quieter than he expects it to be, even for a library, and he clearly can hear the pitter patter of his feet as he follows the sign labeled ‘Study Rooms and Computer Labs.’

The guy at the reception desk in this section seems to be a volunteer, his student ID and name tag shining on his shirt. He glances up from his book when Jisung approaches, nodding once. There’s an awkward silence that feels rather loud as Jisung fumbles with his phone, flipping it between his clammy hands as he searches for your message.

“Computer Lab 4C?”

Wordlessly, the boy nods again, then slides over a clip-board with a sign-in sheet clamped to it.

It’s surprising to see how many lab spots are filled up so early into the term, names scribbled along the lines and time-slots. Your name stands out, partly because of your familiar handwriting, but particularly because of the empty line beside it, where he signs in before handing the clip-board back.

“Down the hall, second door on your right.”

It’s Jisung’s turn to bob his head once and the boy looks back down at his book. He makes his way down the hall until he reaches the correctly labeled door. His hand reaches for the handle, but he withdraws it. Should he knock? Or maybe send you a text? Or both?

To: 555-111-0205

hey again. i’m outside :) Sent at 6:18 PM.

The door creaks open from the taps of his knuckles bumping against it, and he peeks his head in timidly, finding you sitting in one of the desk chairs, nearly hidden behind your laptop and a stack of books. You look up over the screen, eyes squinting in a smile.

“Oh, I had left the door open for you,” you stand up, holding out a cup for him, “and I got you coffee… didn’t know how you liked it so I just got you the same thing I order,”

There’s a fluttering in his stomach as he sets his bag down. There’s no chance he can manage to meet your eyes after such a gesture so he casts them to the ground instead, graciously reaching out to receive with both hands the drink you offer him, “You didn’t have to,” he mumbles, “but thank you. I’m sure your order is great,”

“I wanted to! It’s just—I mean, I did drag you out of your room in the cold and on really short notice—A hot coffee was the least I could do,” you shrug, “One of my friends works at the cafe and I was there doing some work for my literature class before I got your message and I figured I’d grab us both something before I headed over here… Sorry, I’m talking too much. Here, sit down.”

He’s not exactly sure what to say, so he takes his seat beside you in silence, but not without a small smile decorating his face. The notes he had taken down to show you are retrieved from his bag, as well as his laptop. There’s a low screech of your chair dragging across the floor, and he turns to find you’ve scooted closer and you're leaning forward with your cheek resting on your palm, eyes intently looking at his research.

“It isn’t much. I’m sure whatever you found is much more substantial, but I couldn’t show up empty handed.” Jisung explains, sliding the paper over to you. As your eyes scan the page, you make a few comments along the lines of ‘Oh, this is a good point,’ or ‘We should mention this.’

You seem to be very carefully reading his work. Meanwhile, he takes advantage of your preoccupation to let his eyes rake over your person.

The first thing he notices is that you’re wearing a different cardigan, and he suddenly remembers your black one is still on his desk, unwashed and covered in his cum. Your hair looks soft, and when you mindlessly swing it over your shoulder, he catches a whiff of your lavender scented hair wash, and it makes him gnaw the inside of his cheek. You’re not quite close enough for him to catch the perfume you’ve decided to wear tonight, though he can vividly picture the gentle florals that linger still on your cardigan. His eyes trail down, and it’s only then that he notices your skirt—or blatantly, the length of your skirt. Your smooth thighs are exposed, full and fleshy and pressed together, and he suddenly wishes they were wrapped around his head.

“Jisung? You okay?”

“I–Yeah, sorry.” It’s clear that you’ve noticed his staring, and he all but rips his eyes away in embarrassment, “I was just wondering if you were cold,” He gestures down at your legs shyly, pretending the content he’d written on the paper was more interesting the sight of your plush thighs.

For a moment he expects some harsh comment or outburst, but you laugh instead, smoothing the material down a bit, “No, not in here, at least. And the walk over was short, so,” His lips are pursed and his cheeks are burning, but you spare him from any further humiliation when you reach across him to turn the page over and quietly gasp, muttering some surprise under your breath at how extensive his work is. “This is really good. We can use pretty much all of it.”

Failing to hide his beaming at your praise, he snaps his head over to you, “You think so?”

“Yeah, I mean—,” The screen of your laptop changes over to a page of notes, “I pretty much wrote down all the same things. I’m actually so relieved, I was worried I might get paired up with someone who wasn’t gonna contribute.”

“Bet you’re glad you didn’t switch out of the class now, huh?”

Distracted in the notes and in the taste of his coffee, he misses your quick, confused glance his way. Smoothly recovering before he notices, you slowly nod and present to him the layout where you had already taken the liberty to assign him his designated parts. Not that he expected anything else; it’s endearing to see his name labeled over specific sections, color-coded in a blue, bolded font. He wastes no time in pulling up the screen of his computer, exchanging emails with you so the two of you can get to work on the shared document.

The time passes quicker than he hopes, and he realizes just how much he likes spending time with you. Talking with you online is one thing, but sitting beside you as you sip your drink and hum mindlessly, fingers typing away or flipping pages in a book? Completely different game. He’s sure that if it wasn’t because he relieved himself earlier today, he might have popped a boner from the simple act of being in your presence.

Every once in a while, you make an occasional comment regarding a point or two you thought was worth mentioning or adding, and he’d oblige, making a note of it and sharing his thoughts here and there. Occasionally, he manages to steal a look at your thighs, which he swears you’re bouncing and squeezing together on purpose, but for the most part he keeps his focus on the task at hand.

Towards the end of the night, there’s a moment where your hands brush his as you point something out on his screen, and Jisung swears he’s never felt more like a teenage boy in his life. He practically flinches at the contact, failing to mask his awkward reaction and pretending he really meant to fix his hair.

Bidding you farewell is possibly the most difficult of the tasks this evening, even more so than pretending he isn’t completely infatuated with and aroused by you for a whole two hours. When you stand from your seat and walk with him out of the study room, and subsequently, out of the library and into the cold, Jisung faces another of his many dilemmas related to you. He’s not sure if he should offer to walk you back to your dorm, or at the very least halfway there. Perhaps, offering you his jacket would be appropriate, since your skirt wasn’t doing much of a job at keeping you warm.

“You live close by?”

“Yeah! Just a 5 minute walk,” you point your index finger, “In that dorm right over there.”

Jisung nods once, then decides to indulge his impulses. “Here,” he slides his hoodie off with a little less coordination than he would’ve liked, holding it out for you to take, “so you aren’t cold.”

He can’t tell if your cheeks are red from the temperature again or from his gesture, but he hopes it’s the latter. The moment you take his sweater, pretty eyes wide in thanks, he sucks in a breath. It’s much chillier now that the sun is gone, and he fights the urge to chatter his teeth when he offers you a lopsided smile.

“T-thank you,” you tie the sleeves around your waist, covering your lap.

“I’ll see you in class?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod, flashing him a final grin before you spin on your heel to head home.

The twenty-minute-walk-fifteen-minute-jog back to his room feels eternal. All of his hair is standing on end, but picking up his pace too much means that the icy wind, which has so graciously decided to blow in his direction, would just become harsher. His palms soak up the little warmth on his stomach, tucked under his t-shirt, as he alternates between speed-walking and jogging. The minutes drag on and on until finally, his building comes into view and he breaks into a run.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The following morning when he walks into his astronomy class, he follows his usual routine of checking for you in your seat and is almost distraught when he finds it to be empty. It’s not like you to miss a class, and he contemplates reaching for his phone to check-in on you. It isn't until he pans his vision over to his own chair that he spots you. You’re accompanied by Karina and her partner, Heesung, taking up the empty seats beside his own.

On your desk sit two coffee cups like the ones from last night, and he pulls his lip between his teeth to hide the grin that fights to break out.

You look up when you spot him, and Karina and Heesung look up, too.

“Hi…”

“Hi! Jisung, right?” Karina extends her hand out and he takes it, nodding to confirm, “I’m Karina and this is Heesung.” He mumbles another small hello to the boy, who acknowledges him before looking back at his computer.

“Good morning,” you greet as he sits, placing his cup on his desk. “You never told me whether you liked it or not, but I figured you’d grow to like it eventually.”

“I-thanks but,”

“I know: Didn’t have to, but I wanted to. So just say thanks, yeah?”

There’s a familiar burning on his cheeks that always seems to make an appearance when you’re around, but he doesn’t bother masking it this time.

“I wanted to ask you if you would be free to study tonight?”

Instantly, he bobs his head up and down, and you book the study room on your computer just moments before Professor Hwang strides inside the classroom, her glasses on the tip of her sharp, pointed nose.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The frat house where the seniors stay is practically next door to Jisung’s dormitory, which is why when Mark, Chenle, and Jeno come banging on his door on Saturday night, he realizes he can’t use walking so far in the cold as an excuse to stay home. He also can’t use studying as an excuse anymore, since Mark had already caught him leaving the dorm a few times throughout the week to go study with you. That, and he ran into Jeno as he was entering the library just the night before.

“You’ve been studying plenty,” they’d say, or “We told you about the party last week, no way you’re not going.”

Anyway—the point is, he’ll have to endure tonight, despite his wishes to stay close to his PC for the chance that you’d want to hop into a game. He’d prefer to spend the night talking with you, but that’ll just have to wait until tomorrow. With a somber look on his face, he shrugs on a jacket and opens the door for his friends, who practically drag him outside.

Jeno slings his arm over the taller boy’s shoulders as if to prevent him from fleeing, and the four of them climb down the stairs and onto the path toward the frat. If Jisung strains his ears, he can already pick up on the sounds of the party, even from here.

“You think Chaewon will be there?” Mark asks no one in particular, but the boys all respond simultaneously with groans of distaste.

“You dated her three semesters ago, why do you care?” Chenle starts, “isn’t she seeing Jungwoo now, anyway?”

“That’s exactly why I care,” Mark grumbles, foot kicking a rock along the pavement. “He’s one of the RAs. If he’s there—”

“He’s always there,” Chenle interjects, earning a glare.

“—then she’ll be there, too.”

“So, what happened with… what’s her name, Minjeong? Why don’t you hang out with her?”

“Nah,” He turns to Jeno, “She’s sweet and all, but I found out from Giselle that her and Chaewon are friends, so,”

There’s a chorus of understanding, albeit a bit pitiful, “aah’s” and “oh’s” as the building comes into view. A few people are gathered at and around the entrance while others litter the parking lot with phones and solo cups in their hands as they wait for friends. Among them, and Jisung has to do a double take to make sure, he spots Karina, who waves someone down from the direction of the main courtyard. For a moment, he thinks it might be you who appears from between the treeline, but it’s Heesung who jogs over to meet her and he realizes how silly his thought was in the first place.

In the months he’s known you, you’ve never once brought up a party. In retrospect, you don’t seem like the type to like partying at all. He can picture you clearly now, tearing through textbooks or novels for your literature class, or maybe even typing away to him on Discord and asking if he was online.

He isn’t and can’t be tonight, and he’s very sorry about that, for the record.

Maneuvering through the crowd of tipsy college students isn’t too difficult,and neither is their entry. The door is propped open, and Jaehyun, with his signature snapback that he wears backwards on his dark hair, calls them over from the drink bar.

“First problem I see here,” he starts, “is that none of you have a cup in your hand.”

“We’ve barely made it through the door, man,” Mark laughs, clapping up Jaehyun and moving aside so he can greet the rest of the guys.

“That’s no excuse, you should be sipping on something by now.” He waves his arm, “Take a look around, boys! This is what life is gonna look like for you guys next year—and the year after for you, Jisung.”

Jisung gives a curt, disinterested nod amidst being handed some fruity, fizzy, white claw resemblant that probably wouldn’t taste much different from an Alka-Seltzer. He cracks it open upon being prompted to by Jaehyun, who initiates a “cheers” between the friend group. The moment the alcohol touches his tongue, Jisung grimaces, taking a few long chugs in hopes that the effect will kick in quicker and make the long night that awaits him a little less long.

“Do you know if Chaewon is here?”

Wordlessly, Jaehyun fixes his cap and points a single finger toward the couch, where Chaewon sits besides Jungwoo, leaning in to hear him over the music and giggling at whatever he says in her ear. The boys look over at the couple, then quickly glance back at Mark, whose face falls despite the fact that he knew to expect this.

“Tough,” Jeno gives him a pat on the shoulder, “Hope you have better luck the rest of the night. I’ve gotta bounce,”

“Yo, what do you mean bounce?”

He gestures toward a girl standing near the beer pong table, who looks slightly familiar to Jisung, though he can’t quite put his finger on it, and smirks, “She smiled at me the moment we walked in. I’ll see you later, but I honestly hope I don’t.”

The realization that his friends, in search of their hook-ups for the night, would eventually be abandoning him one-by-one kicks in just then, inviting Jisung to down the rest of his bubbly drink in one go.

Mark rolls his eyes, “You ever notice Jeno is always the first one to get a girl?” His comment earns a few hums of agreement.

“I’m gonna go find Jaemin,” with his phone clutched in his hand, Chenle turns towards the door, “he just texted me he’s outside with Sullyoon and her friend.”

“Wait, Jaemin is—he’s setting you up and not me?” Chenle only shrugs at Mark’s question, replying with a blunt and concise “yeah.”

“I’m not a dog like Jeno though, so I’ll definitely see you guys later.”

As if noticing he was facing the same unfortunate fate as Jisung, Mark turns to the youngest boy with a fearful look in his eyes. Jisung only shakes his head and takes a quick look around, “I’m not planning on hooking up with anyone here, so…” At this, the boy sighs in relief, handing Jisung another drink in solidarity. The two lean against the counter as Jaehyun looks between them, snorting.

“Mark, there’s so many girls here.”

“I know, but—”

“But Chaewon.”

Mark nods, echoing Jaehyun in a quiet, maybe even embarrassed voice, “But Chaewon…”

“Don’t worry, I get it,” he adds sympathetically, “I’m caught up on my ex, too.”

“Uh…” there’s a pause. “Which one?” This comment lands Mark a shove, playful, for the most part. He rubs his shoulder and hisses while Jaehyun, on the other hand, sloshes around the little liquid left in his cup and grabs the closest bottle of alcohol to him, along with whichever random mixer he finds first.

“The only one that really mattered.” He tilts his newly filled red cup back to drink from it, but his eyes peek over the rim and he pulls it from his lips to sigh out, “Speak of the devil and she doth come,” he raises his brows and announces, “there she is now.”

Following his line of sight, Jisung trails his vision toward the front entrance and at once, the sight makes each and every one of his limbs seize up. There’s a twisting and turning in his stomach that almost invites the seltzer he chugged to make a reappearance, and he’s pretty sure the color has drained from his face as he watches you walk inside the frat house behind Karina and Heesung.

So many things go through his mind in such a short amount of time that he fears he may have had some sort of out-of-body experience or hallucination episode; it wasn't really you he was seeing, it couldn’t be. The way your skirt clings to your hips makes him grip his cup tighter within his sweating palm, and the lacy, corset top you’ve decided to wear, which shows off a tasteful bit of cleavage, causes him to swallow down the saliva that had pooled on his tongue.

It was a more provocative outfit than he’d even seen you wear, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Jaehyun opened his mouth to speak, he’s sure he would’ve instantly become bricked up.

“And of course she’s wearing that shirt…” Jaehyun fixes his cap for the second time tonight and straightens out his shirt, “Alright, wish me luck.”

It’s not like Jisung would have interjected anyway, he didn’t really have the grounds to, but he couldn’t even entertain the thought before Jaehyun headed in your direction with decisive confidence. Part of him hopes he was referring to someone else as his ex, perhaps even Karina, since there isn’t another girl in your immediate vicinity besides her, but his bit of hope is crushed as he spots Heesung’s hand intertwined in hers. Surely, Jaehyun wouldn’t be coming up to her if she showed up with someone to his party. It leaves him to reach his regretful conclusion just as his friend and you make eye contact, recognition flashing across your features, along with something else.

Unable to torture himself further by watching your exchange, Jisung tears his eyes away and grabs another drink to make this very, very long night ahead of him somewhat bearable. He turns to Mark, who he didn’t even realize had been talking this whole time, but the loud music and the cloudiness in his mind muffle out his speech.

“—I mean this just sucks! I guess we still have each other, maybe we can find some girls who—”

When did you even date Jaehyun? You hadn’t mentioned him once in the months he had known you. And also, why did you date Jaehyun? Not that there was anything wrong with him, other than his habit of cycling through girls every semester. Mark’s “Which one?” comment had some truth to it, but he would have never expected you to have been on Jaehyun’s roster. It takes him a second to remember that Jaehyun is still his friend, but even then, he can’t fight the bitterness that settles in his bones. What did he mean when he said that you were the only one that mattered? How significant was your relationship with him? There’s too many questions circling his mind, and it isn’t until he downs the fifth drink that they start to blur.

Currently, he’s passing the time conversing with Mark and following him around the party, but more importantly, avoiding you in fear he’ll steal a glance and you’ll be locking lips with your ex. He spots Jaehyun by the bathroom a bit into the night, but thankfully, you aren’t near him. It’s in the middle of a beer pong game with Mark when he dares to glance around in search of you.

First, he spots Karina and Heesung, making out on the couch where Chaewon and Jungwoo once sat. You aren’t near them. Then he spots Jaemin and Chenle dancing with the girls they had met up with, but you aren’t dancing, either.

He’s relieved to find you aren’t with Jaehyun when he spots him, finding instead that his friend is flirting it up with a different girl who is certainly not you. The sight completely pisses him off, and somehow makes him feel immense relief simultaneously. Right around this time, he decides he’s had more than enough of the party. You aren’t here anymore, and Jaehyun’s face is making him fucking sick. Mark is slurring his speech enough that he wouldn’t notice if Jisung just slipped, so he does just that, though he does make sure to mention to Chenle that he’s leaving on his way out so he can keep an eye on Mark.

Outside, the cold is unbearable. The previously crowded lot is empty for the most part, except for a few people puffing clouds of smoke into the air by a bench. Not even the alcohol in his system is enough to warm him up, so he can’t even imagine how a joint could be worth sitting outside for.

The only other person sitting outside is squatted down by the curb with their knees curled up to their chest. As the autumn leaves crack under Jisung’s feet, they turn their head around.

“I told you I don’t wanna—Jisung?”

Your big eyes widen in his direction, and you shoot up from the ground. Jisung’s brow lowers in concern and he notices the only thing you have to cover up is a flimsy cardigan. You and your damn, flimsy cardigans.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Sorry for snapping I—sorry,” you shiver involuntarily as a gust of wind blows through, wrapping your arms around yourself, “I thought you were someone else.”

There isn't a sliver of hesitation before Jisung shrugs off his leather jacket and begins to wrap it around you, grumbling, “Are you crazy? You must be freezing,”

“I’m fine—“

“This should help,”

“But- Jisung, how many of your jackets am I gonna take—”

“As many as you need to.” Your lack of a response makes him look back up to meet your eyes, round and much warmer than the rest of you was right now. He clears his throat, guiding your sleeves into the arms of the jacket as he jokes, “or until you bring your own.”

You smile, muttering a small ‘thank you’ as the warmth engulfs you, along with the smell of him and some cheap cologne only a college student would buy. He’s tugging the collar closer to cover up your exposed neck and chest, eyes flickering down at your bare skin despite being well aware that you’re looking. Where this newfound boldness came from tonight, he doesn’t know. What he does know is that his boldness is always rather short-lived when it comes to you, and tends to appear and disappear like random spurts of energy—he’ll take advantage of it this once. Especially now that he knows you’re Jaehyun’s ex and the most he might even get to do is gawk at you, he intends to make it worth it.

“You must be freezing now, though,” you start, “should we go somewhere warm?”

“How about the library?”

You laugh, looking at him in disbelief, “The library isn’t open at this time, much less on the weekend,” “Right…”

“Wanna go to mine?” Your suggestion makes his breath hitch for a second, but he manages to respond with decent clarity.

“You live by the library, though. That’s like a half-hour walk. I don’t think you’ll make it that far without turning into an icicle,”

“Well, I don’t really wanna go back inside…” he knows why, so he offers something else.

“My dorm is five minutes away. We could go there if you want, b-but if you’d rather go somewhere else—”

“Okay,” you nod eagerly, “let’s go.”

As Jisung leads the way, speed-walking to beat the chill that spreads through his newly uncovered limbs, he turns his face to you, watching as you tuck the lower half of your face into his coat.

“I don’t know if you want to work on the project or—”

“God no,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “I’m not that much of a buzzkill, dude.” You jog a little to catch up to his longer strides, “Besides, I have like three shots of Pink Whitney in me,”

“Foul.”

“I know. Can’t think about a project right now,”

“I’ve had a bit to drink, too.” he admits.

“I can tell. You’re stumbling.”

He snaps his head around, down to his feet, then back to you. “What? Am I?”

There’s a small, stupid smile on your face as you shake your head. “No.”

He can’t pinpoint why this banter with you is so easy, why it feels so right. Or perhaps, he can, but regardless, his heart leaps in his chest as he scoffs, not fighting the shit-eating grin that spreads on his frosted cheeks.

"It’s that building right over there,” he points.

“You weren’t kidding when you said it was close,”

The two of you climb the stairs and he opens the main door for you, watching you sigh out in bliss as you step into the warmth of the hall. You bounce around in a cute way that once more tugs at his heart-strings, still looking all puffed up and adorable in his jacket that entirely engulfs your frame. He leads you up another flight of stairs and onto the floor his room is at, and once the two of you stop in front of his door, he pats his jean pockets.

“Oh my uh- my keys are in the pocket of the jacket.”

You mimic his recent action, patting around until you find his keys, holding them out for him to take.

Somewhat awkwardly, he fumbles with them until he manages to fit it into the lock, opening the door with one hand. He gestures for you to enter his room with a small shrug, “Make yourself at home.”

As you step inside, Jisung makes it a point to quietly thank whatever higher power compelled him to make his bed this afternoon. The rest of his room wasn’t perfectly organized by any means, but at the very least, his bed, which you now sat at the foot of with your legs bouncing, was neatly made.

“You have your own room?” You mutter in surprise as you look around the small space and notice the lack of a second bed. The tall boy beside you just shrugs again, toeing off his shoes in the corner as he pulls the door closed.

“Yeah, uh… I’m one of the RAs for the sophomore class.”

“Wow,” you sigh, “I wish! I mean, I love sharing a room with Karina, but it’s nice to have space for myself sometimes.”

“That’s why you’re always at the library?”

You nod, sliding your palms across his duvet, “It’s nice and quiet,” your fingers move to grip and release the material, and he blinks harshly to erase the sight of that from his mind before it causes him to spiral. It didn’t prove to be very useful, though, because your still-exposed thighs move and press together, just as they did at the library, and his dick gives a little twitch in response.

“I’ll get you some clothes to change into, that way you’re more comfortable.” he decides, more for his sake than yours. You don’t answer, continuing to look around, taking in the details of his computer that flashes in a bunch of different colors.

“You know I gave up extra storage in my bedside table to be able to keep my PC? I let Karina take it to her side of the room so I’d have space for my setup.”

Rummaging through his drawers, he pipes up, “you game?” as if it wasn’t something he already knew about you.

“I love it. I stayed here for most of the summer just because I had my computer here.”

Jisung picks out a pair of sweats for you and one for himself, along with a t-shirt he knows he recently washed, then he turns, handing it over to you. “I’ll change in the bathroom down the hall and then wait outside. You can crack the door open when you’re done,”

“Thank you, Jisung.”

There’s a gentle sincerity in your tone that makes him wanna say “anything for you,” but he settles for pursing his lips instead, leaving to let you change before he can embarrass himself with any baseless comment you wouldn’t really get. The effect of the drinks still hadn’t completely faded, and he fears he’s capable of saying just about any of his stupid thoughts out loud right about now.

You weren’t completely sober either, not by any means. The trashy vodka your ex offered you in an attempt to reconcile was as bitter as the end of your relationship with him, and it was flowing through your veins and giving you that light-headed buzz. You stand up and slip off your boots and Jisung’s jacket, along with your skirt. Your top requires a bit more precision, the lace getting twisted and tangled in your uncoordinated fingers. There’s little huffs and puffs of frustration that leave your lips during your struggle, and you’d almost consider asking for help if it wasn’t completely inappropriate.

Finally, though, you manage to get it off and slip on the change of clothes Jisung has so graciously provided. They’re warm and they smell good, and they’re much more comfortable than your outfit which is now folded on Jisung’s gaming chair, alongside your purse.

When you look up in admiration of his impressive keyboard, which looks to be custom made, and your eyes trail up to his monitor, you notice something on the corner of the screen. The mindless doodle you had drawn beside your phone number that day in class had been very carefully cut out and stuck onto his screen with tape.

“You okay?”

His voice calls from outside, quietly as if not to disturb you even though it’s you who is occupying his room.

“Yeah, I’m almost done!”

“I thought that she was gonna assign them on Friday?”

Sung had asked you that on call, in regards to the constellation project you mentioned you wanted to start working on. Not Jisung, Sung. Sung, who is not in your astronomy class and would have had no way of knowing when or even what your professor would be assigning.

“You’re Ji-sun, right?”

“—Sung.”

The nickname sounded very right coming from his lips, from his voice. You never gave his nickname too much thought, because truly, Sung could just be a display name. And if it is his real name, it could stand for anything: Sungmin, Sungwoo, Daesung, Ilsung, Jaesung… Jisung.

And then, you recall the time you spoke on the phone—specifically, the time you had to do a double take at your screen to make sure you hadn’t actually called Sung. It was the first time you had spoken to Jisung on the phone, and it’s the only way you had even spoken to Sung… something about it seemed so, so strangely familiar.

Could it be…

“Alright, I’m done!” Your announcement comes after the realization that he’s been waiting outside for a few minutes already.

“Coming in…” He warns, eyes still cast to the ground in case you weren’t decent. They slowly make their way up, and something flashes across his features at the sight of you. You try to ignore it, still preoccupied by your growing suspicions. His computer is on… meaning…

“Let me let Karina know I left… I kinda just walked out on her.”

Jisung nods and takes a cautious seat on his bed a few feet away from you.

As you open the discord app on your phone, you scroll to the top to find his contact and type out a simple Hi, clicking send with your heart beating faster than usual. It’s an impulsive act, but you can’t help yourself. If there’s even a chance…

Instantly, his screen lights up and through his headphones you hear the familiar chime of the notification coming in.

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!”

If it’s possible, Jisung’s face grows even paler than it already was naturally, and even more gloom than it appeared earlier in the night when he identified you as Jaehyun’s ex. All of his features are alert and in shock, watching as you spin around to face him.

“Sung? Right? That’s you?”

He’s struggling to read your expression, and it’s beyond obvious. The only change in his demeanor is the now tensed up shoulders and the redness that takes over the white on his cheeks.

“I—” Are you mad? Should he apologize?

“Did you know all this time? That it was me, I mean?”

He nods slowly, unable to find the appropriate words to say.

Two things happen just then. First, your hand smacks his arm, hard. “You fucking idiot!” and Second, you topple into his arms, hugging him. Initially, his hands hesitate to wrap around you, hovering above your waist as you squeeze his neck.

“You’re not mad?” He asks shyly. You shake your head against him, then lift off with your hands on his shoulders to take a real good look at his face.

“No! I’m so glad, I thought I was going crazy. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs again, a gesture he seems to do a lot around you.

“Since when did you know it was me?”

“Since I heard you speak on the very first day in class. I recognized your voice.”

Your eyes soften at this small confession, and you look back towards his desk, “So, this is where you were this whole time while we played? This close? A twenty-minute walk away?” You shoot up from the bed and cross the small distance to the desk, swiping an index finger along the surface, then his mouse, then his keyboard, and all of his other equipment. Your eyes are beaming, looking around and familiarizing yourself with his things. All the things you wondered about him are now laid out in front of you, and it’s exhilarating.

“I was so excited when I found out,”

“You should’ve told me,” you repeat, still taking in his pictures and personal items, your profound curiosity surfacing within you.

“I was worried about making a good first impression, you’re…”

“I’m…?” you press, turning to him for a moment.

“You’re really pretty in person.”

In that moment when you turn away to hide your blush, with the words “you’re really cute in person, too” ready to spill from your tongue in a sweet and shy whisper, a small black pile on the corner of his dresser catches your eye.

“What’s that—”

“Oh nothing! It’s just—”

“Is that my cardigan?”

Forget distraught, forget embarrassed, forget every possible synonym for the word humiliation. Not a single one would do what he’s feeling in this moment even a sliver of justice. Jisung is convinced his soul has left his body, that he’s passed on or that the ground has swallowed him whole. In fact, he’d prefer it that way. He has never felt more panic in his life as you quickly approach the cum-stained cardigan that he took from you, that he pleasured himself with countless times, that he still hasn’t washed…

“You dropped it in class, and I-I meant to give it back to you, you know, a-after I washed it, but then—”

As you turn the material over in your hands, taking note of and examining the stains, Jisungs breath completely cuts off. You spin slowly on your heel, facing him. There’s an unreadable expression on your face, and it takes every bit of the little pride he has left to not squeeze his eyes shut.

“Are these—” His voice is no more than a sputtering squeak, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. Fuck, you must think—”

“Jisung.”

“I didn’t mean to keep it for so long, or-or at all, really, it’s just—”

“Jisung.” He’s pretty sure you can hear him gulp. “Were you using my cardigan to get off?”

“I-”

“Were you?” You ask sternly.

He sucks in a breath, unable to look at you any longer as the faintest of yeses leaves his pouty lips.

There’s a moment of silence. A terribly long, excruciating moment of silence where Jisung can think of no way to make this up to you. He’s beyond ashamed, palms clasped together and sweating, face red with horror, inside of his cheek clamped tightly between his teeth, the whole nine miles. So much for mulling over how he’d reveal who he was to you, and so much for all the overthinking he did, all the times he planned out exactly what to say to you and how. Now, it’s all coming to an end because of this damned cardigan. He should’ve just washed it and given it back to you after the first time—no, he shouldn’t have used it at all. His mind is filled with thoughts of everything and nothing at the same time, and he’s already beginning to mourn the loss of your friendship when you say the unthinkable:

“Show me.”

*. * ·

taglist: @heartlvrrss @albedoloser @zp00ks @simpforarmihn @toroufriteh @quokkatss @jising-jisang-jisung @camstqr @tangerinehyuck @ma-riiii @minlvrpage @hancafe

there are some users that couldn't be tagged, as tumblr did not recognize their accounts. sorry :((

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sovietpostcards · 3 months

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It seems wild to me that Elton John was allowed to perform in USSR?

It was wild for sure! I looked it up, it's such an interesting historical event (and I do love Elton John). Some interesting facts:

Apparently the person who invited EJ to the USSR and made it all happen was a nephew of Aleksey Kosygin (then the Premier of the USSR). Elton did want to visit the USSR and asked the embassy about it, but I'm sure that a big name would have to be involved to bypass the bureaucracy machine.

Elton gave eight concerts in total, four in Moscow and four in Leningrad. The bulk of the tickets in Moscow were distributed among nomenklatura. There was no free sale of tickets. Some tickets were privately exchanged for luxury goods like Armenian cognac or fur coats. A small fraction of tickets was available on the black market, and the price was as high as a month's salary (100-150 roubles). In Leningrad the ticket situation was a little easier (less nomenklatura in the city), but the demand was crazy. Fans flooded the city. People signed up through designated social Soviets and queued for days (and nights) in advance to have a chance at buying a ticket.

Elton brought 11 tonnes of equipment. Such quality of light and sound was unfamiliar to the Soviet people. He also brought along 30 journalists.

Here's the film about EJ's visit. And here's an audio record of one of the Moscow concerts (it was released in 2019).

#soviet union #elton john #history #1970s #asks

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writefightandflightclub · 3 months

Text

Ride or Die (Santiago "Pope" Garcia x fem!reader): Series Masterlist & Warnings

Posting schedule and Series Masterlist

This is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are queued.

Chapter One: POSTED

Chapter Two: POSTED

Chapter Three: POSTED

Chapter Four: POSTED

Chapter Five: POSTED

Chapter Six: POSTED

Chapter Seven: POSTED

Chapter Eight: POSTED

Chapter Nine: POSTED

Chapter Ten: POSTED

Chapter Eleven: POSTED

BONUS content: PLAYLIST (TBC)

Series Warnings (below the cut):

To avoid chapter by chapter spoilers, this time I'm providing general, series-level warnings of the main themes covered throughout. This may also mean the list is non-exhaustive. If you need more information in order to safely avoid a trigger/topic, or to enhance your reading experience, you are welcome to DM me / send in an ask. Also, if you spot something I missed that you think should be included here to aid other readers, hmu!

Please note, the whole series is NSFW, MDNI (18+). Minors or ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.

Smut: EXPLICIT, CORE THEME e.g. fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, casual sex with other non-pairing partners implied off-screen.

Angst: A CORE THEME. Relationship angst. A lot of arguing / yelling (not trying to romanticise this at all!). Some toxic jealousy. Conflicts with friends. Abandonment fears. As well as this central relationship conflict, side characters are dealing with individual issues, such as those referenced in canon (divorce, prior violence, drug misuse etc.).

Drugs / alcohol mentions: reader participates in casual social drinking throughout, some heavier drinking in one chapter (party context). Smoking (one chapter). Brief mentions of drug use (cocaine).

Food mentions: casual, frequent.

Mentions typical of canon / e.g. wartime, US army, bullet wounds, car crash, injury, fear of mortality, violence (no graphic descriptions).

Mental health: implied past trauma typical of canon. Brief mentions of nightmares, possible PTSD.

Reader descriptions: fem!AFAB reader. Uses she/her pronouns. Reader’s hair is described a couple of times as being e.g. “pulled”. No hair texture / colour / style / other details specified or implied. Reader has a family who appear in a couple of chapters (sister and nephews). No physical descriptions of them are supplied. Mentioned that reader grew up with her sister, though not specified whether biological / adoptive / found family.

Spanish language: reader understands / speaks Spanish, though not specified what her first language is (or isn’t). I have avoided lengthy Spanish translations / text as I am not a native speaker. Some Spanish language is included, limited to terms of endearment and the like. I am always happy to be corrected. I research, but some mistakes are likely.

Sexual health / pregnancy: mentions of reader using birth control, including mentions of emergency contraceptives / slip-ups. Not a core theme.

Religion: mentions of Catholicism.

Other: contains significant Tom. It’s pre-canon, I’m so sorry.

#SO EXCITED TO FINALLY ANNOUNCE THE POSTING SCHEDULE!!!!#Also a bit nervous ahahahahahhaha 😅#santiago pope garcia x reader #ride or die series #oscar isaac

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cameronslilypad · 10 days

Text

find me through my dealer - part two

summary: you and rafe have been in the same friend group for a while now, so you could be considered close, when he finds out you have a dealer who isn't him he demands you cut them off and use him instead. you both work out an arrangement you get 'discounts' and in return do him 'favors' (but are they really favors if the both of you enjoy it a little too much?) because that's what friends are for right? friends?

part one

you wake up squashed between two bodies, with no room to move. the first few things you notice is the ringing in your ears, your pounding headache and arms laid loosely around you. you wait a few moments before giving in and slowly squinting your eyes open. you’re met with rafe, still fast asleep snoring softly, you slowly and carefully get up and the arms that were once around you drop onto the mattress with a soft thud. you turn your head seeing the arms belonged to becca and next to her was topper.

what the fuck. you laugh quietly to yourself at the fact all four of you have managed to end up cuddled together in rafes bed.

you slide to the end of the bed and leave the room, trying to be quiet but inevitably failing, and head downstairs to get some painkillers. as you’re sitting at rafes kitchen island, drinking some water, you realize your bag is laying on the floor. checking your phone the numbers 2:47 stare back at you.

how the fuck. you realize you need to go home, you feel disgusting and just want to relax in a bed that isn’t occupying three other people. you decide to be cute and leave them a note as you notice a notepad on the island.

morning sunshines! i went home because i felt gross, left painkillers on the island. love ya.

you go back into rafes room and decide to leave the note on rafes head. putting back on your heals, jacket and making sure everything’s in your bag. you leave for your 5 minute walk home.

hours have passed. becca had called you saying she was home and talking about lasnt night, which you only remember aspects of. you’ve had a nice long shower, done a facemask and are feeling a lot better. you’re parents aren’t home, as usual, they never are which is fine by you, it can get a bit lonely sometimes but you like your own space, and it allows you to do whatever you want. right now all you wanna do is smoke, watch some of your favorite show and use your vibrator. so you take your little tin that holds all of your smoke stuff downstairs and open it onto the table in front of the couch you’re now sat on.

you’re fucking joking. now the good news is you don’t have no weed but you don’t have nearly enough, one small nugget.

you: hey rafe u busy? need some weed asappp!

you swear this man better be able to give you some after telling you he has to be your only dealer. as you’re going on this hypothetical rant your phone lights up.

rafe: already lol how much u want

you: 3.5

rafe: im omw to urs

absolutely perfect. as you wait you decide to play some music, softly so it’s in the background, on the tv just as you finish queuing some songs there’s a knock on the door.

“hi, come in” you tell rafe standing to the side of the door so he can walk past you. he settles on the couch and pulls out a little baggie filled with weed. you take it from his hands and sit next to him.

“thank you. how much do i owe you?” you ask him settling next to him and already starting to grind some of the weed up.

“don’t worry about it” he replies looking at you with a little smirk.

“funny. but seriously how much” you reply just wanting a price so you can get the cash.

“i’m serious it’s on me” you didn’t really know how to feel about that, free weed is free weed so it’s great but it’s sort of like you owe him now.

“oh thank you. you got plans? wanna smoke some with me?” the offer was the least you could do after getting it for free

“yeah course” you smile at him, getting a cone out of your tin and just as you’re about to poke some of the weed in it a loud laughter interrupts you.

“what are you doing!” rafe can barely get the words out due to his laugh.

“what do you mean?” you ask a bit softer, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious. rafe points at the cone. ooooh.

“i can’t roll, so i use cones” you tell him, to which he looks dumbfounded.

“you smoke most days and you can’t even roll” you nod your head, it’s not the first time someone’s said something like this to you.

“i’ve never really had to, cones exist or i can get someone else to roll for me” it’s true, you had tried to learn how to roll. it was too stressful.

“i’m gonna have to teach you. but not today, ill just roll” rafe tells you with a slight teasing tone, pulling some papers out of his pocket. you watch him as he rolls, it takes him no time at all, and he passes the joint to you. you light it and take a few puffs and flick some ash into the ashtray that’s on the table, before passing it to rafe.

“i’m going to get some water, want any?” you ask him, standing from the couch.

“na i’m good thanks” his voice is a bit hoarse because of the weed and it brings back that fluttery feeling you had the night before.

shit, this isn’t good. you shouldn’t be feeling this way. you think as you get a water bottle ,from your fridge, taking a massive gulp to try and push this feeling down once again. you stand there for a few seconds and take a couple deep breaths before returning to sit next to rafe.

“i’m rolling you some more so you don’t need to worry about that cone shit for a bit” he says, as he finishes rolling a second joint. you realize he’d left the current joint you we’re smoking in the ashtray, you pick it up and take a few hits after making sure it was still lit.

“awwww how nice of you” you ruffle his hair, this wasn’t abnormal but for some reason the moment felt a bit more intimate than usual. rafes only response was a roll of his eyes but he has a smile on his face as he redirects his focus back on rolling your weed.

it’s silent between you, passing the joint back and forth, the music in the background making things not awkward at all. you stub the joint out and pick another up from the table. rafe had just stopped rolling, putting his papers back in his pocket. he’d rolled another five your you. you light the second one and just look at him, his eyes are focused on the tv playing some random music video. you’re not sure weather it’s the weed, or watching his hands and tongue while he was rolling or the cute little gesture. it could’ve been the fact that you felt the need to repay him for the weed or that you were waiting to use your vibrator and was already horny. or all of that could just be excuses for what your about to do as it would make it less embarrassing if it backfires.

just go for it, you’re going to do it anyways act confident to not make it awkward. you sit up and swing one of your legs over rafes lap straddling him.

“what’re you doing?” he asks, teasing tone prominent, a massive smirk plastered on his face and slowly reaching his arms around your waist.

“hmm nothing” you smile, feeling a bit dazed from the weed, you hold the joint to his lips. he takes a strong pull and tilts his head up the blow the smoke out, his adams apple bobbing up then down.

fuck.

“come here and open your mouth” he says taking the joint and having a pull. he then removes his arm from your waist and places his hand behind your head, pushing it towards his own until your noses touch. his thumb on the hand that’s still holding the joint brushes your lips, so you comply and open your mouth. he takes a sharp inhale of the smoke that was sat in his mouth and blows it into yours.

hot. you wrap your arms around his neck and he goes back and forth between taking a puff of the joint and holding the joint up to your lips, just looking at each other. it takes little to no time to finish this joint so you take the roach and lean back to put it in the ashtray. rafe quickly leans forward wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“i wasn’t going to fall” you giggle, leaning back up and pushing rafe back to his original position rolling your hips a little. he lets out a soft groan and leans into kiss you. it’s sloppy and a bit rushed, you place your hands up his shirt to trace his abs as his hands rub up and down your sides. he starts kissing down your neck, hands resting on your ass as he sucked on the spot under your ear making you throw your head back and letting out a half moan half gasp. you cant wait any longer so you slide your hands down from his toned stomach to his belt and start to attempt to unbuckle it.

“wait” rafe quickly grabbed your hands. your eyebrows furrow. well fuck, it did backfire, what an idiot. he takes one hand off of your wrist and uses his thumb the smoothen the wrinkles that had just appeared on your forehead, his other hand brings your wrist up to his mouth.

“are you sure about this?” he asks looking up at you, his eyes hooded. its an effect of the weed but if anything you think it makes him look even better.

“fuck rafe” you breathe out a laugh “you scared the shit out of me” you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“silly girl” he tuts, knowing exactly what you meant without you needing to day it “i just need to make sure you want me as much as i want you” his big hands cup your face and bring it out of the gap between his shoulder and face, so you’re looking him directly in the eye.

“and trust me i want you bad” his words make you feel giddy, you turn your head to kiss his right palm then follow suit to his left palm.

“i guess you could say i want you a little” you shrug, letting out a small squeal as rafe manhandles you so your back is laid on the couch and he’s laid on his front, head laid on your upper thigh.

“a little hm? let’s see if you’ll still be saying that after i’m done with you” he sends you a wink massaging up your other thigh making his way up to the waistband of your sweats.

“lift your hips up for me baby” you comply, his lust struck tone of voice, and the pet name he’s used makes you believe you’d comply with anything he asked of you in that moment. he lifts his head up and pulls both your sweats and underwear down and completely off your body. you bring rafe down for a kiss by the back of his head, the buzz he’d recently got feeling soft on your fingertips. you bite his bottom lip and tug on his shirt but it seems he didn’t get the hint.

“cmon rafe take it off” you whine as he chases your lips again, unhappy that you broke the kiss to talk. he shoves his tongue back into your mouth and works his shirt up his body so his arms aren’t in it anymore and its hanging around his neck. he disconnects his lips from yours begrudgingly, throwing his shirt off and sitting you up slightly to make quick work of your own shirt. he fumbles very slightly with the hook of your bra before throwing it to the side in a hurry so he can get his hands on your tits, his lower lip is drawn into his mouth as he circles around your nipples. he takes the left one into his mouth letting out a long sigh, in return you let out a quiet mewl, throwing your head back and bucking your hips up. rafe shows the same amount of attention to your right boob before leaning down to your ear.

“lay back again for me” his husky voice mixed with the soft bite he leaves to your earlobe makes you shudder and comply straight away. rafes head ducks down to your thighs, leaving feather light kisses on either side, completely neglecting the place that is aching for him.

“rafe come onnn, stop being a tease” you beg him, you need him to touch you right now

“m sorry” he breathes out, placing the softest kiss to your clit “you’re just too pretty” he admits, the weed and your arousal making him soft and genuine, admitting things he probably wouldn’t admit otherwise, unless it was portrayed by him as a teasing, joking comment. and you’re loving this little side of rafe you’re seeing. his fingers finally touch where you’ve been waiting for, spreading your lips and slowly pushing one finger into you and slowly pumping it in and out before adding a second finger and slightly scissoring them, making your toes curl and breathless moan exit your mouth. you hold the back of his head and push him into you, he understands and flicks his tongue against your clit, the pace of his fingers quickening. you can feel the tension in your stomach getting stronger.

“fuck rafe, just like that” you moan out to him, feeling your self clench around his fingers and you’re about to cum. when the sensation completely stops.

“what the fuck” you whine pushing rafes chest as he comes up to kiss you, you turn your head in protest. he puts the fingers ,that were just in you, into his mouth.

“you taste so fucking good, but i want you to cum on my dick for our first time” he groans into your ear, tracing your jaw before grabbing it softly so you’re facing him.

first time? so its happening again. that’s fine with you.

you take his thumb into your mouth and wrap your legs around his waist, his dick fitting snug between your fold, making him look at you with dark, wide blown pupils. this is the first time your getting a proper look at it, its pretty, a mushroom tip and a few prominent veins running down to the base and a little pre cum dribbling out of the slit. you rotate your hips and take your thumb to his slit swiping some of his pre cum and licking it off your thumb.

“oh fuck” he shudders in a groan thrusting his hips so his tip hits your clit, making you gasp and realize your getting impatient you move your hips back to line his tip up with your entrance as best as you could. rafe takes control and grips the base of his dick slowly pushing it into you. you both throw your heads back and let out a strangled noise, almost simultaneously.

“you okay?” he asks brushing your hair away from your face as he bottoms out. you nod and thrust your hips up with a little whine.

“use your words baby, how you feelin’?” he starts moving, a slow and hard pace.

“good, so good. but go faster please” your words come out breathless and there are little halts in your sentence due to the force of his thrusts. he complies, which starts making him hit your g spot.

“oh my god” you squeal a little, overcome with pleasure. you grab onto his biceps to stable yourself. rafe leans down, putting his hand around your neck bringing you into a bruising kiss which makes you gush and tighten around his cock.

“knew you’d fucking love my hand here, squeezing my cock so good, you’re so good” his cockiness fizzling out as he rambles praise at you. you’re so close and your impulses take over you as you start to fuck him back

“shit baby i’m right there, tell me you’re there with me” he moans out as he starts to rub soft circles on your clit, trying to get you to cum before him.

“m there, cum with me” you say completely fucked out, pushing his lips into yours. after a few more sloppy thrusts and kisses you reach your orgasm, having to break the kiss as you let out a deep pornographic moan, basking the bliss of this feeling.

“shit, yes” rafes voice is so raspy and in that moment you don’t think you’ve ever found someone more attractive. he rides out the both of your orgasms with a few more thrusts before slowly pulling out, his cum dribbling slowly out of you.

“fuck, so pretty” he murmurs, almost massaging his cum on your clit. it almost seems as if he’s talking to your pussy rather than you.

“rafe i’m sensitive” you tell him softly, hips jerking at his actions. his reply is leaving a soft peck to your jaw.

“can you pass me my clothes?” you ask rafe as he gets up to put his boxers on. he gathers your clothes and to your surprise starts helping you get re dressed. he starts with pulling your underwear up your legs.

“hips” he mutters softly tapping them, you lift them and he pulls your panties in place, leaving a small kiss the the bow that decorates the front. following with your sweats. when it gets to your bra, you sit up and shake your head, you want to be comfortable, to this he wiggles his eyebrows up and down making you involuntary roll your eyes with a stupid smile on your face. you lift your arms up so your shirt can be put back over your body. rafe gets up and finishes dressing himself.

“i’m gonna head out, i’ll see you later” walking over to the couch giving you a weird sort of side hug.

“okay see you” he walks off, softly shutting the door behind him. your focus switches to the four joints that were left on the table, forgotten about a while ago. you change the tv from the music that was playing to your favorite show. as you light and take your first puff of your joint, it then starts to dawn on you.

what the fuck just happened?

part three

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #obx x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #obx fic #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe outer banks

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brownsugarwrites · 3 months

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Poundcake.

✰ pairings: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x black!fem!reader

✰ warnings: none! fluff with a liddol bit of suggestive content. reader cooks soul food (no debate)

✰ a/n: this was soooooo yummy to write! I hope I can write more ghost in the future I love this man.

There was a click of the knob at the door. “He’s home, you thought, eyes coming away from the TV as you stood behind the stove.

Hearing the door perch open, you hear his heavy boots stepping into the house as the smell of pound cake infiltrates his nose.

“I'm guessing my princess is in the kitchen, right?”

“Hi, baby!!!” You greeted him gleefully before shuffling your feet towards him and hugging him. Firm arms wrapped around your thick waist, crushing you slightly.

“I missed you around here,” you told him, pouting as he gave you a light pat on your head.

“I missed ya too, sweetheart. Food smells divine,” he compliments

You blush a little as you give a little thanks, telling him you’d been cooking all day for him, waiting for him to get back

It was something you started to do for him about a year into actually living with each other, and now that you were engaged, it became a habit

“Well, I'm going to make me a plate-“ he started

Your face scrunched up in disgust. He knows you make him shower before he can eat.

“Simon…. I dont know why you come up in this house acting brand new. You know to get in the shower before you sit at the table,” you responded with attitude, popping your hip out.

“But sweetheart-“ he began

“But sweetheart, nothing. Get cleaned up and put your clothes in the laundry room. Your plate will be ready when you come downstairs.”

Huffing like a child, he took his bag and lugged himself up the stairs to get into his house clothes.

As you watched him go up the stairs, you quickly turned your attention back to the oven, opening it to take the cake out to let it cool.

While he showered, you set the tray tables and queued the TV to another episode of Real Housewives of Atlanta.

About a good hour later, you turned your head to the heavy footsteps that came down the stairs to meet you in the living room.

You watched as his shirt clung to his body, showcasing his physique. To you, he looked a little more...fluffy than usual. You noticed in his abdominal area he was losing some defintation. Which you found cute and a little sexy, knowing he could still probably fold you into a pretzel while fucking you.

"What do you want on your plate, big boy?" you asked playfully, a smile gracing your face.

His cheeks were turning pink as he told you he was okay to make his own plate.

"Si, you've been gone for four months. What makes you think I'm not going to make your first plate back?" you said, standing up and going to meet him where he was at

"tell me what you want," you said, looking up at him so innocently

What he wanted was to take you upstairs and have his face in your cunt till the sun rose until he heard his stomach growling.

"A little bit of everything is fine, princess," he told you, hands moving down your waist, effectively cupping your ass with his big hands.

Rolling your eyes, you pulled away from him, going to the kitchen to make you and his plate.

Coming into the living room with the warm, fragrant food, you sat it before him as he drooled over it.

"lemme get you something to drink, ok," you said before scurrying to the refrigerator to get a bottle of water and a pop.

Seeing that he had already started eating his food, you giggled as you watched him stuff his face full.

"Is it good?" you joked, plopping down next to him and giving him his drink.

"Spectacular," he managed to get out before taking another bite

Pressing play on the TV, the two of you watched Real Housewives as y'all ate. Once Simon was finished, he sat back on the couch, rubbing his stomach in content

"You're gonna make me fat with all this good cookin', princess." he laughed

"Good!" you smiled at him

Seeing his eyes get heavy, you knew the food was sitting in, and he was getting the itis.

"You want a piece of pound cake, big boy?" you asked, rubbing a hand up and down his arm.

"No, thank you, sweetheart." he simply stated before cuddling you on the couch. "Thank you for the food, my love. I'm happy to be home."

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty fanfic #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x black reader #video game x reader #video game fanfic #call of duty x y/n #call of duty x reader

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iceman-soup · 4 months

Text

gn!reader x 141 (bar roach)

CW - not a gangbang i swear, gaz is ur only bf, harsh biting, blood and injury, not smut but kinky??

Part 2 to this

Okay, sure, you'd called Gaz silly for saying that the others would be jealous of his bite marks. Obviously you didn't expect it to actually happen.

As expected, the gauze and hickeys on your boyfriend's neck (and the best one patched up on his cheek, of course) don't go unnoticed. And, unsurprisingly, your smirk and Kyle's blush quickly let them know that yes, the patches are a result of some kinky shit and not some freak accident. So they don't ask. Just sort of.. look when they think you don't notice.

Until Price breaks the unspoken rule of no questions, no unwanted answers. In his defence - he's perhaps a little more oblivious than Ghost or Soap, and he's concerned about his totally-not-favourite Sergeant. And he probably wasn't expecting your shit-eating grin and Gaz's condescending answer.

"Well, Cap, when two people love each other very much-" he starts, before you cut him off with a snorted laugh at how Price's face turns red. When a recruit eventually asks later too, he responds with an equally condescending smile and just casually says, "bites!"

This continues for a couple days, making you laugh every time at how show-off he's being - although once alone, he's complaining that the gauze itches, and why can't you just take it off already? So you do, finally accepting the wounds have healed enough now. Fuck, that was a mistake.

The boys will not stop trying to touch the bite marks, particularly the deepest one on Gaz's face. Trust your boyfriend to be a cocky dick about it, too, bragging that he "told you so" when you notice them glancing at you more often than usual. Needy fucks, the lot of them.

Price calling you over one day when everyone's together and saying, "Well, its hardly fair to single Sergeant Garrick out, is it?" with his arms folded across his chest and his usual charming smile on his face as you feel a flush rise.

His taunting works wonders and you spend the rest of the day pulling Price, Soap, Ghost and Gaz into cupboards and empty rooms just to bite them, then leaving and getting on with whatever you were doing as if nothing happened. Which sort of backfires, 'cause now you have four fully grown men queuing to get patched up since your boyfriend apparently promised that you took care of him after, and their standards are now too high to back down.

So these grown ass men are now following you around like puppies to the first aid kit, then curling up in your lap on the floor as you kiss their wounds and clean them up gently, soothing them as if they're not military when the antiseptic stings.

Gaz is extra clingy, of course, because you're still his partner... but he will admit that he adores seeing your teeth imprinted on the others' skin.

#not sure if this reads as clunky or if its fine #my bad i guess #cw biting #cw bite marks #cw injury #cw suggestive #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x gn!reader #john price #john price x gn!reader #john soap mactavish #soap x gn!reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x gn!reader #john price x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader

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fluentmoviequoter · 18 days

Text

Constant Faith

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x worship pastor!reader

Summary: When your church is robbed during worship practice, you try to remember as many details as you can to tell the police. Tim is the responding officer, and despite his worry about you, he's impressed by what you remember.

Warnings: robbery, the robbers point guns at r, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Everyone has constants in their life and unshakeable faith in something to get them through hard days. No matter what that faith may be in, is an irrefutable fact that people put their faith in at least one thing, perhaps even themselves, and rely on it when times get tough. For you, your faith and your constants align. Today, your constants include Tim Bradford and worship practice.

Being a worship pastor at your home church is one of the best parts of your life, and the time you spend at church is just as special and important to you as time spent at home. As you drive to practice, you realize that it has been less than twenty-four hours since you were last at church and chuckle to yourself. Your faith makes you active in church, and you doubt that you’ll ever get tired of being there: your home away from home.

Meanwhile, Tim is out on a call and trying not to think about you. He tends to get distracted by you, and when he sees the time, he knows that you’ll be at church. Safe. Knowing you, your routine, and where you are brings Tim comfort. He trusts you, though, it’s the rest of Los Angeles he has a problem with. Tim also knows better than to think about you too much at work because you make him happy, and the officers around him may get suspicious.

“Hi,” you greet happily as you enter the sanctuary.

The rest of the worship team matches your excited attitude from the stage. Your team is amazing, and you look forward to the time spent with them each week. After you catch up with them quickly, you direct them to take their places with microphones and instruments before queuing the song list for Sunday service.

“I have a question,” your newest, and youngest, member says shyly.

“Of course,” you reply with a smile.

“Could I maybe try harmonizing on the second song? I’ve been practicing, but I don’t know if I can do it with those notes yet,” she explains.

“Please do! We’ll run through it again after, too, if you want.”

She nods, and you signal to Jerry, the audio tech, to start the countdown to the first song. You’ll have one when you enter on Sunday, so you like to utilize it during practice, too. The music begins filling the room, and you lose yourself in the lyrics of the first song.

A door slams somewhere outside the sanctuary, and you raise your hand to end the song. The sudden quiet lets you hear footsteps moving quickly through the foyer area.

“Who is that?” the bass player asks.

Before you can answer, the door at the back of the sanctuary opens and two men wearing masks enter.

“Put your hands up!” one of them demands.

You’re prepared to argue with him, but when he raises a gun, you decide to comply. The friends around you step back and raise their hands as requested. When he gestures for them to move to the back of the stage and sit, they do so without hesitation. As they drop their heads toward the stage, you hear a small voice somewhere within you. It demands that you pay attention and remember everything you can about this moment. You sit as well but keep your eyes up and watch the men walk toward each other and begin whispering.

“… safe somewhere, John!” one of them says.

Clutching your hands together, you say a silent prayer that these men don’t hurt anyone. Your prayer focuses on your continued safety, and that of everyone else in the building, before you ask for justice. These men have clearly done this before, and you’re confident that there are other people, maybe even other church congregations, who have been robbed before. Throughout your prayer, you keep your eyes open and on any defining markers you can find.

“Where’s the safe?” one of the men – John – yells.

He swings the gun toward you, and one of your worship team members answers, “In the treasurer’s office! It’s just around the corner.”

One of the men nods before leaving the sanctuary. You’re left to sit with the other gunmen, and you take the hand of the woman beside you in an attempt to soothe her. Everyone else seems to be panicking, and you say another prayer for them.

Minutes that feel like eternities pass before the man returns and gestures for his fellow thief. They walk out backward to keep anyone from following them, but the moment the door closes, you pull your phone from your pocket and call 911.

“Officers are already en route. We were alerted of the crime in progress,” the dispatcher says before asking you several questions.

After explaining what you can, you end the call, stand, and walk toward the door.

“Don’t go out, they could still be here!” someone implores quietly.

“I’m not going anywhere, just checking on Jerry,” you answer.

Jerry, the audio tech, is in the small booth at the back of the sanctuary. He’s no longer in his seat, and you open the door slowly.

“Oh, it’s you,” he sighs from his spot on the floor. “I called the police. Is everyone else okay?”

“We’re fine, Jerry. Thanks for being so proactive,” you reply.

“I should- should have done more.”

“Your safety is more important. Everything’s fine, so don’t worry about it, alright?”

“LAPD! We’re coming in,” an officer yells outside.

You push the sanctuary door open and wave to the responding officers. You’re surprised to see Tim, but your falling adrenaline keeps you from showing it. He’s with Celina for some reason; you’re not curious enough to ask why yet.

“The robbers are gone. There were only a few of us here for worship practice and we’re still in here,” you explain.

“Any idea what they took?” Celina asks as she moves past you through the doorway.

“Go check on the other witnesses,” Tim interjects.

After she turns around, Tim lays his hand against your side and asks, “Are you okay?”

You nod quickly. “I think so. Just shaken up, I guess.”

“There’s no shame in that. I am too. I heard the call over the radio and couldn’t get here fast enough.”

“How’d you know I was here?”

“You’re always here,” Tim teases.

“I, uh, I heard one of their names and I got a pretty good idea of what they look like – build, I mean; they were wearing masks.”

Tim shakes his head as three more officers enter the building. He tells you to join your worship team and he’ll find you again when he can. After you give a detailed statement and describe both men to a sketch artist, you sit heavily against one of the pews.

“You got a name and a nearly perfect physical description,” Tim says as he lowers to sit beside you. “Most cops can’t even do that.”

“Guess I had a lot of reason to be calm,” you say with a shrug. “I wasn’t scared, I knew that I had no reason to be, but I also knew you would need to know as much about them as I could tell. Not you, but the police.”

“Sergeant Bradford?” Celina asks as she approaches. “Officer Chen is looking for you.”

“Tim!” Lucy says as she rushes to join Celina. “I heard you attach yourself to this call; what was the urgency?”

“Crimes against churches usually go to Metro,” Tim answers.

Lucy’s eyes drift to you, sitting comfortably beside Tim. “Just that?” she asks knowingly.

“Robbery and CSU have work to do,” Tim deflects as he stands. “So, mind your own business and get out of the way.”

“Tim,” you chide quietly.

“What?” he asks.

Lucy grabs Celina’s arm and leads her outside. “You’re telling me everything I missed,” she whispers.

“Your former rookie just abducted your new rookie,” you point out.

“She’s not my new rookie. Just doing a favor for Wade; Celina’s dealing with a lot of stress, so I’m trying to get her back where she needs to be.”

You smile and Tim takes your hand. Your faith allowed you to be aware and alert, and Tim is obviously impressed by the details you remember.

“Let me drive you home,” he offers.

The rest of the worship team is ready to leave, and you wave as they move toward the door.

“Same time tomorrow in my garage?” your bass player asks.

“Sounds great,” you reply. “See you then. And call if any of you need anything.”

“Hey,” Tim says, nudging you. “I promise that we’ll catch the men who did this and make sure the money is returned.”

“I know. And, yes, please, to the ride home. Only if you give me a hug.”

“You’re getting more than one.”

#tim bradford x reader #hanna writes✯#tim bradford fic #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #tim bradford the rookie #the rookie abc #requests

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em1e · 10 months

Text

⠀ ⠀ ༝ your mother said to pick the very best girl - and i am.

こづめ + てつろう + コウタロウ + けいじ // TAG, YOU’RE IT ⠀ ༝ ༝ slasher!au ft. kuroo + kenma + akaashi + bokuto ⠀ ༝ ༝ 4.4k words ⠀ ⚠︎ final girl!reader, VIOLENCE, CHARACTER DEATH(s), implied fem!reader but no pronouns used, reader's bf and friends are oc's! ⠀ — a fun camping trip! what could go wrong.

you really wish you could pinpoint when everything went to shit.

you could guess, sure. maybe it was when your boyfriend suggested coming to this hicktown, the promise of a campground for your friend group of four to have a wonderful, fun, and cool outing. maybe it was when his friend invited his new girlfriend - some girl from your college that talked too loud and popped her gum too much the entire car ride over. maybe it was when the lock to your cabin didn’t fully click into place.

or maybe it was when your boyfriend slumped against the wall, his head cracked open with blood and what you could only guess was brain matter leaking freely from the hole.

you should probably backtrack a little. think for a second.

“does he have to bring his new girl?” you’re almost whining at this point, shoving the last of your bags in the back of the minivan your boyfriend, akio, thought would be perfect to rent for this weekend trip.

‘so we can all ride together!’ he’d explained with a grin. you really couldn’t tell him no if you wanted.

he hums in thought at your complaints, shrugging, “i mean he’s already invited her. he said she’s excited, too, i don’t wanna be the one to tell her she can’t come when we’re gettin’ him from her place.”

you find it hard to believe that hana’s excited to be out in the middle of nowhere with bugs biting at her and no cell service, but you take the new addition in stride, “whatever,” you wave off, climbing into the front seat, "we’re getting chiyo and aya first though, right? they dislike her more than i do.”

the twins, grouped nickname given to them by their brother and one bringing the parasitic gum-popping girl, have voiced their complaints about her coming more than once, but are ultimately shut down by said brother, riku.

“mhm,” akio confirms with a thumbs up after he’s settled in the driver’s seat, offering you the aux as he starts the van. a passenger princess through and through, you start the playlist you’d carefully crafted days before - full of things everyone will enjoy, “then we’re gonna get hana and riku.”

akio doesn’t miss the small thank god that falls from your lips, but he chooses to ignore it in favor of turning up the music.

༝ ༝

“i’m not really fellin’ this song.” hana leans over the center console to peek at what you have queued next on your phone, popping her gum loudly in your ear as she does. you grimace, but she doesn’t seem to notice while trying to decide herself what song to play instead.

you lean away from her, head hitting the window with a small frown that barely disappears when akio’s fingers tangle with your own.

“we’re like 30 minutes from the campsite, can you just sit down?” aya groans, happy to voice her distaste to anything hana does. to be fair, she’s been bouncing from seat to seat in the van, and you think it’s even been pissing riku off, if the way he grumbles a small yeah, please is anything to go by.

you tune out any further argument while looking out the window, squeezing akio’s fingers with a small hum as you pass some dingey motel in the dingier town you’re passing through before you hit the woods, “if any bugs land on me or i see a snake or a spider, you’ll be able to find me there.”

“the motel?” akio asks, grinning while glancing back in the mirror.

“mhm,” you nod, sitting up slightly and stretching your legs as much as you’re allowed, “not dealin’ with that.”

“we’re gonna be in the woods,” he reminds you with a laugh, “s’gonna be kinda hard to avoid all of that.”

you shrug, “good thing that ‘no vacancy’ light was off.”

“you’re funny.” he untangles his fingers from yours to squeeze your thigh instead, and the action leaves you smiling.

and true to aya’s word, thirty minutes later you’re in the middle of the woods, in front of a pretty cabin akio rented on airbnb. hana complains before she’s even out of the van, swatting away invisible bugs that seemed to swarm her as soon as the door was opened.

you do your best to ignore her, bumping hips with chiyo as you begin to remove everything from the van, “let’s have a fun weekend, yeah?” you offer with a small smile.

chiyo returns it with a scrunched nose, “one could only hope.” and removes her two suitcases from the pile.

༝ ༝

the first night was nice. riku might’ve made the damning decision to invite his annoying girlfriend, but he makes it up to the group easily by providing a surplus of booze, and the six of you get drunk off your asses and sleep until the middle of the next day. that saturday is filled with exploring around the cabin, walking down what trails were already there, and settling the next night off with a barbeque and sipping on what alcohol was leftover from the previous night.

the second night does not end as nicely.

you went to bed early. a headache, you think was your reasoning, probably from hana and whatever annoying habit she’d picked up for the day getting to you, but you woke up far earlier than intended.

one look to your phone told you it was a little past midnight, and you chasisted yourself for not plugging in the device before laying down - the blinking red of 7% flashing at you from a day of taking lots of pictures in nature. there’s a crash somewhere in the cabin, the living room you think, followed by a scream that has you stumbling to your feet and almost tripping over the covers as they try to hold you down to the bed.

hana’s holding what you assume to be her phone in one hand, pointing a finger at aya with a glare, “who the fuck gave you permission to go through my shit?”

aya looks impassive as she shrugs, “shouldn’t leave your phone out. maybe then we wouldn’t know about daniel, 32, who likes long walks on the beach and, what was it chiyo, country music?”

hana’s cheeks flush, scowl deepening when she finally realizes you’re standing in the hall, “of course you’re up the second there’s something going on.” and as if god isn’t sparing her any chances, your boyfriend and riku stumble in through the front door, cheeks pink from drinking.

hana’s eyes narrow between the three of you, before settling sweetly on her boyfriend (boytoy?), “riku, babe, i think we should head to our room. stinks in here.” she and aya share an intense glaring battle, before she clicks her tongue and saunters over to riku, who’s mostly being held up by akio.

just as she snakes her hand around his waist, pulls him close, the door swings open again. it lets in the chilly night air, leaves you wrapping an arm around yourself with a furrowed brow.

who the hell could that be?

tall. objectively attractive with a sharp grin and dark hair, taking in each of you with enthusiasm.

“um . . . do we know you?”

chiyo asks, head tilting while the two boys turn to face the intruder.

“me?” the stranger asks, mocking her head tilt, “no. not yet at least.” his grin is unwavering, and you decide then it’s unnerving, leaves a pit in your stomach when his eyes find your own.

“who the hell are ya then?” akio straightens his shoulders, and despite being over the line of tipsy, stands tall. the stranger however, remains taller of the two.

“is it a party in here or what?” someone behind you says, and you jump with a squeak when an arm wraps around your waist, a face you don’t recognize hooking their chin over your shoulder. gray and black hair finds way to your vision, and your body tenses before you’re shoving him away with a stumble. he pouts, slouching over, “thought a pretty thing like you’d be sweet.”

“can we help you guys with something?” aya snaps, pulling you back by the upper arm so you’re a decent distance away from him, “this is private property.”

the tall man from the door clicks his tongue, eyes narrowing, “maybe. we’re just here to have some fun.”

two more guys walk in behind him, one shorter with a mix of overgrown bleached-blonde hair giving way to dark black roots, and the other a taller man with dark hair following in close behind.

“is this a joke?” hana steps from riku, who’s looking just as annoyed as your boyfriend.

“no jokes, ” the first guy who came in promised, “just wanna play a game with you guys.”

“we’re not into games,” akio slurs out, “you guys should go ‘fore we call the cops.”

this seems to make the stranger grin wider, holding out his hand behind him to his friends. the shorter one puts something in his awaiting grasp, and it’s like everything starts happening in slow motion.

akio’s squaring his shoulders, getting ready to throw a punch, but the guy, without hesitation, is already swinging. except it’s not his fist that makes the contact - it’s a fucking bat. akio’s head turns with the impact, and the stranger takes another swing from overhead. it lands with a sickening crack, one that has akio stumbling backwards until his back hits the wall and he slumps over, fingers twitching once, twice, before stopping altogether.

you don’t know who screams first - if it’s hana or chiyo - unable to process anything around you as you openly gape at your crumbled boyfriend’s form on the ground.

“now,” the man with the bat wipes away a spot of blood that’d splashed to his cheek, “let’s talk about that fun, yeah?”

riku takes a stumbling swing at one of them, but is ultimately knocked on his ass when his own hit doesn’t connect while they make their way further into the room. hana is the first to try and run out the door, but it’s slammed shut by the last guy to come in, steel eyes freezing her in place when her hands make contact with the doorknob. she stumbles away instantly.

“let’s start with introductions, “ the bat man gestures to the couches at the center of the room, pulling a chair from the dining room to sit across from it. the slamming of another dining room chair on the ground has all of you scrambling to find a spot to sit while they find places in front of all of you, “‘m kuroo,” he points the bat to the one with blonde bits of hair, “that’s kenma,” to the one who touched you, “bokuto,” the final of the four, “and akaashi.”

his head tilts as he looks at each of you squished on the sofa together, pointing the bat at the group and grinning when you recoil, “eenie,” he points it at aya, “meenie,” chiyo, “miney,” riku, “you.” stops on you, “tell me your names, pretty.”

your eyes widen as you look between your friends.

“u-um . . .” and you introduce everyone with hesitation laced on your tongue, looking at him for confirmation that you’re finished when you’re done.

“and him?” he nods his head to akio’s body, smiles when your lip wobbles as you stutter out his name.

“good job,” he praises, “now, we are gonna let you guys go.”

hana visibly perks up at this, it’s not missed by the analytical eyes of the four studying your group. bokuto sighs from behind the couch, surprising both you and chiyo as he leans over the back of it and into your personal bubble again (when did he even move from beside akaashi?), “buuuut we gotta have some fun first.” he adds before kuroo can continue.

“fun?” chiyo parrots with a squeak. you think you can make out a smile from akaashi.

“fun,” kuroo confirms, “we’re gonna play a game. like hide and seek. you guys make it to the town that’s a few miles north from here, you win!”

he almost sounds excited as he explains.

“what happens if we don’t . . . make it?” aya asks with a frown.

“good question, aya,” kuroo stands, pushing the chair back as he does, “we’re going to kill you, if we catch you. you’ll join your little friend over there.”

you hear aya swallow hard.

“what if we don’t play?” riku counters with a glare, “we can just stay here and you won’t get a hard on from chasing us.”

“we’ll kill you here,” akaashi says easily, as if talking about something as miniscule as the weather, not about your life being held in the palm of their hands.

“speaking of -” kuroo’s eyes flit over each of you, “seems kinda unfair to be a 5 v 4, huh?”

you feel chiyo stiffen at your side from the implication, hand clumsily finding your own as kuroo towers over the five of you.

“who should it be, kenma?” kuroo glances to his right, and kenma’s head tilts before he points.

riku barely has the chance to stand before the bat is hitting him. he falls loudly to the center of the carpet, unmoving.

chiyo sobs, squeezing your hand, and aya wretches at the sight, vomiting over the side of the couch. you can only stare, wide eyed because surely this isn’t real. your boyfriend couldn’t have been murdered in front of you less than thirty minutes ago, riku’s not dead on the ground joining him right now, and these guys aren’t going to chase the four of you in the woods of some dense forest with such a minimal chance of escaping. . . right?

chiyo’s fingers digging crescent marks into the back of your hand is what pulls you from that hope.

“we’re gonna give ya fifteen seconds to get out of here-” kuroo starts, tapping riku’s back twice with the bat as if to ensure he’s down for good.

you interrupt him before you can stop the words from spilling off your lips, “twenty.”

“sorry?” kuroo’s brows furrow for only a second, before his head is tilting with a grin.

“w-we get twenty seconds,” you ration, ignoring the way chiyo’s fingers are squeezing your hand too hard, “and we get to put on our shoes.”

“you’re not really in a position to be making demands,” kenma comments impassively, but kuroo waves him off, closing his eyes for a second.

“no, it would be a little unfair if we let them zip outta here like that. we’ll give you twenty-five seconds to put on your shoes and go and it starts . . .” he looks at kenma, who gives a thumbs up, “now.”

only a second is wasted between the breath of his last words before the four of you are scrambling to stand. you have to drag chiyo up yourself, push her forward towards the door so she can slide on her shoes with shaky hands, and you’re following in suit as she’s opening the door.

one of them hollers excitedly as you slam the door shut behind you, and your eyes meet kuroo’s just before the door shuts completely. there’s no comfort in the way he smiles, the way his eyes bore holes in your trembling form.

༝ ༝

you’d been running for what felt like forever.

somehow, you’d lost everyone in the dark - hana dipped into the right of the woods the second she was out the door, and aya and chiyo’s hopes of climbing into the van were crushed when they realized the tires were slashed, so the three of you made a dash following the dirt road that brought you here. one minute they were with you, the next you’re alone, and your legs were starting to ache from exhaustion.

you freeze when a scream tears its way through the woods, echoing and desperate, but you don’t have a second to dwell on it when another body slams into yours. the impact knocks the wind out of you, and you almost scream until you fully realize who’s taken you down.

hana winces as she looks down at you, tears trailing down her cheeks with her hand held tight to her abdomen, and it’s then you notice the blood.

“t-the smaller one stabbed me,” she breathes out, a fresh wave of tears filling her eyes and spilling over her cheeks, “i didn’t even wanna come to this stupid trip.” she pushes herself off of you, sitting at your side.

“we gotta keep moving, hana,” you whisper, forcing yourself onto your aching legs and offering her a hand to stand as well.

she takes it with a frown, opening her mouth to say something before her eyes flit behind you. they widen for a second, before she’s shoving you back and stumbling away, ignoring your curse of her name as you fall flat on your ass.

“two for one?” someone says behind you, you whip your head around as you see kuroo emerging from the dark of the trees, smiling with a tilt of the head, “s’a shame. kenma just went that way, too.”

as if to confirm this, you hear a scream that has you cringing in on yourself.

“now what to do with you?” he steps around you, crouching in front of you with his head still tilted, “you were quite amusing with that twenty second rule - and the shoes. no one’s ever demanded anything from us like that. i’d hate to end this chase when you’re at such a disadvantage.”

his fingers tap the sole of your shoe, trailing up until his fingers brush against the skin above your ankle to poke there too, “you won’t make this boring for me, will you?”

you dig into the dirt at your side with a frown, and he opens his mouth to say more, but you’re tossing the mix of twigs and dirt and leaves into his face before he can get the words out. he even laughs, when you use the leg his hands wrapped around to kick at his chest. somehow, miraculously, your other foot connects with his face while he’s distracted with controlling the first, and it loosens his grip enough for you to push yourself onto your feet and stumble away.

you think you hear him laugh again as you disappear into the trees. you don’t stay long enough to find out what’s so funny.

༝ ༝

kuroo was really enjoying this chase with you.

they each took turns picking who they’d get to grab, and he was lucky enough to go first.

but something about you was really driving him wild. and now, here you were throwing dirt in his face, kicking him right after hard enough to make his nose bleed. he wipes at the blood as it makes its way past his lips, metallic and warm against his tongue. maybe they could have even more fun with you together.

don’t kill mine if you guys see ‘em. <

b> :(

k> you got something in mind with them?

you could say that <

a> I just got mine. I can help you guys if you need.

b> me pls !! mine’s slippery :(

a> 👍

k> stabbed mine couple of times. she’s annoying

just remember not to kill mine <

kuroo shoves his phone in his pocket as the three bubbles pop back up, uninterested in whatever else his friends might have to say.

he’s got a chase to get back to. he grins at the thought.

༝ ༝

you hadn’t seen anyone in what’s felt like hours and you were fucking exhausted.

your legs were begging you to just take a break, your lungs heaving painfully with each inhale you took, but the adrenaline in your veins spurred you on further. everything ached as you stumbled up a hill, leaning against a tree for support to use the height to your advantage and fuck, you could cry at what you saw.

just barely in the dark, you can make out the asphalt of the road - and if you squint your eyes, you can see a little further down the road is the shitty fucking motel you were gonna sleep in, the no vacancy sign shining bright against the dark of the world surrounding you.

but then someone’s grabbing you from behind, shoving your back against the tree you’d been using to hold yourself up. a scream rips itself from your throat, clawing at whatever skin your nails can come in contact with, but bokuto, you realize, only smiles and presses you harder against the tree.

“i’m so close,” you whimper out, shoving at his face when he drops it too close to your own, stomping on his toes and really doing whatever you can to shove him away from you. you glance to your right and you can still see the neon lights from the motel’s sign, the streetlights keeping the hicktown illuminated, “please.”

“kuroo’s gon’a be so happy i caught ya,” he leans down, nosing at your collar and inhaling despite you still struggling against him, “exciting since ‘kaashi got mine.”

you feel him frown against your neck, fingers tightening at your shoulders where they keep you in place. he pulls back with a pout, “that’s not even fair, is it! what’s the point of pickin’ who we wanna go for if someone else is gonna get ‘em anyways!”

you’re frozen at the implication of what ‘got mine’ could mean. the question of who dancing on your tongue, unable to voice it.

bokuto straightens after a second, smiling down at you, and you never really realized how much bigger he was than you until now - all muscles that flex as he readjusts his grip on you, “now, let’s go meet back up with kuroo, yeah?”

it frightens you how easily he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder - and despite your desperate flailing, the way you kick and claw and scream, his grip never wavers. you can only watch as the red LEDs blink further out of sight, until the light that remains is eaten by the darkness of the woods that surrounds you.

by the time he’s walking up the stairs to the cabin, you’re worn out, and you don’t fight it when he places you on the living room floor.

riku’s no longer at the center of the carpet, and if you dared to look you’d see akio is no longer slumped against the wall as well.

bokuto crouches in front of you, toying with a piece of your hair as it falls in your face, and you half-heartedly push his hand away when he laughs, “we’re gonna have lots’a fun with you, i just know it.”

he stands when the door is pushed open again, akaashi walkin through the foyer, dragging a groaning riku in behind him. you stiffen at the sight of him, scrambling to stand only to fall back against the floor when bokuto pushes you down by the shoulder. akaashi, not so gently, pulls him until he’s laying in front of you, and you feel your fingers flex with tears welling in your eyes when he barely moves.

“r-riku?” you whimper out.

you’re answered in the form of a groan, his eyes fluttering open before they close again as if keeping them that way brought him pain. despite the way your hands shake, despite being pushed down before, you move to his side to examine what damage they could’ve done to him.

bokuto laughs again from your side, but doesn’t stop you from pulling him to you protectively, “look atcha, worrying ‘bout someone else’s skin.”

akaashi clicks his tongue, but makes no comment as the door swings open again - kuroo and kenma walking in with dirt and blood staining their hands and clothes. kuroo ruffles your hair almost affectionately as he passes and you duck away from the contact with a frown.

he looks away from you, whispers something to someone, but your heart beats painfully loud in your ears and you can’t hear much beyond your own breaths. kenma fiddles with an already blood-stained knife, twirling it between his fingers as he stares holes into your back.

kuroo takes the knife from kenma with a grin, kneeling beside you and tilting your chin up with the blade, “you do good, we’ll consider letting you go.” his hand finds itself at the nape of your neck, keeping you in place when you shy away from the metal.

“w-what?”

“you’re gonna kill him,” his eyes flit from your own to riku’s body lying beside you, then he’s turning the blade so the handle is facing you instead, pushing it into your hands, “it’ll be easy once you get past the first stab.”

your hands tremble at the weight of the knife, shaking your head with tears spilling over your cheeks, “no . . . no, i’m n-not gonna-”

kenma groans from behind you, and you flinch at the sound, closing your eyes as if that could make everything happening come to an end.

“they’re not gonna do it,” akaashi says boredly, moving behind you to somewhere else in the room, “told ya.”

“i think they can!,” bokuto adds, “they’re just scared of the first step.”

kuroo’s staring at you like he wants to eat you, like you’re stepping in the maw of a wolf and his teeth could sink into you at any second from the way he grins, “you’re right. first step is the hardest.”

his fingers wrap around your own on top of the handle, long and precise as he maneuvers you with his chest against your back, his arms surrounding you until all you can feel is him. it’s suffocating. he leans down, breath hitting the shell of your ear as he whispers, “let me help you.”

and he lifts the knife above riku’s body, and despite your protests, despite the way you fight against him, to try and squeeze your hand out from under his, the knife still lands right at the center of his chest. you’re sobbing with new vigor now, body vibrating when kuroo lets out a genuine hearty laugh.

he holds you upright as you curl in on yourself, numb. you so desperately want to fall. collapse, cold and lifeless just like riku. a nasty jolt snaps you back to reality. kuroo´s shaking you out of your stupor, his pupils dilated to the point where his eyes look black. he holds you vice-tight, cradling your head as you cry, your tears dampening his shirt. proud? maybe.

“now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

#salmon rowe #kuroo tetsuro x reader #tetsuro kuroo x reader #kenma kozume x reader #kozume kenma x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #kotaro bokuto x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #keiji akaashi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #x reader #akaashi x reader #bokuto x reader #kuroo x reader #kenma x reader

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octuscle · 8 months

Note

Full time barista here I’ve always been envious of the men on stage especially the heavy weights. Don’t want to over work the chronivac but help me become a muscle bull as big as jean pierre fux.

Mate, I understand you only too well…. There are few things hotter than the real heavy beefcakes. I've tried it long enough myself… But I didn't make it either. Jean Pierre is a pretty good role model… But I have an idea…

Friday morning. It's 06:00, you have to hurry, in one hour you have to prepare the first coffee. You don't have time for much more than a few situps and pushups. In the bathroom you have to hurry. You need longer and longer to conceal your receding hairline. You are now 40 years old, slowly you just notice that you are getting older. If you go out tonight to party, it will take you almost the whole Saturday to recover. The cosmetic industry has nothing effective to offer against the wrinkles in the corners of your eyes. And even if you don't need to be ashamed of your body: You won't gain much more muscle in your lifetime.

Shit, at 07:00 o'clock people are already queuing up. You hate it when you can't open the store in peace. But as it looks, it will be 10:00 o'clock, until you have the first moment of rest. In fact, it's even 10:30 when your colleague thinks you can take a break. If you need it, he adds with a wink. You look fantastic today! You take a mineral water and sit down in the warehouse. In fact, you feel pretty damn good right now. You drink the water in one go. You don't have much time for a break. And you have to piss again before the lunch business starts. Your lower jaw drops as you wash your hands. Fuck, what happened to you. There are no more receding hairlines or laugh lines. You look ten years younger than when you got up today. The only difference is that you look as if you'd spent the last ten years doing little else but lifting iron. Your T-shirt is almost blown up by your biceps and pecs. And your jeans look like they're painted on your monstrous legs. How could you not notice that? As you tie the apron back on your way back to the counter, you wonder why you were just amazed. Since your 20th birthday, you've spent every spare minute at the gym, investing every penny you earn in protein and supplements. Hell, if you didn't look the way you do, you would have wasted a hell of a lot of time and money.

The calm in your coffee bar begins to subside again. The lunch business is starting up. There's a beefcake in your line that makes you jealous. Yo, bro! he greets you. It's nice to see that there are real men working here, too. What you can recommend to him. You suggest the protein bomb. A scramble of 10 eggs with 400 grams of chicken breast. He grins and nods. And a liter of still mineral water. The bro shares your taste. While you type everything into the register, he asks you if you're all-natural. Of course you are. With the money for the meal, he slides you a card. In case you want to think about it.

It is 17:00 o'clock, when you tie off your apron. Fuck' according to your watch you have walked 12,000 steps today on the few square meters behind the counter. But it also looks like it's been a pretty good day so far. You're 20 now, and the idea of opening your own café with healthy and, above all, protein-rich food came to you when you were 16. That's when you started getting into high performance bodybuilding. And a place like this was missing at that time. And then you built this place with your mentor and trainer as a straw man. But you can't stand behind the counter for more than ten hours. Even if you are the best advertisement for your products, you have to work out at least four hours every day. Otherwise you don't stand a chance on the big stage.

You might not be one of the big ones yet… But you are on a really good way to get there. You met Jean Pierre Fux once at a fitness fair in Germany. A great role model for you. And he said that at your age he would have been a linnet compared to you. The prerequisites for a brilliant career are there. Enjoy it and make the best of it!

This and other hot pics @anton227ludwig

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #male transformation #muscle transformation #tank top #inked man #age reduction

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makethatelevenrings · 2 years

Text

Only For You // J. Todd x gn/f!reader

Requested? Yes!

WARNINGS: menstruation (not explicitly stated and not explicitly female!)

Summary: You woke up feeling like shit. If only a certain simp vigilante was there to help.

A/N: apologies for this being short and also for this taking so long! I had emergency surgery and was in the hospital for a few days. I’m home now but I will be recovering for a few weeks so unfortunately I won’t be able to knock these out as much as I would like.

The door to your apartment opened with a quiet creak. You nestled under the blanket some more, not bothering to check who was entering because there was really only one choice. Jason had the place wired with the top security measures known to man and while the bats and birds could easily break in, they respected you enough to know that your apartment was off limits unless it was an absolute emergency.

His boots let out a thud as he kicked them off by the front door and then he made his way further into your shared apartment. Jason must have stopped by a bodega on the way home because you could hear the crinkle of a bag as he walked into the bedroom.

“How we feelin’?” he asked quietly as he crouched down in front of you. You shrugged and he frowned. He reached out to stroke his hand down your shoulder and you relaxed at his warm touch.

You had woken up this morning to the feeling of being hit by a freight train. Your joints ached, your head pounded, cramps twisted painfully at your gut, and the idea of eating anything but a croissant at the coffee shop on the corner sounded unappealing. The idea of dragging yourself out of bed, walking down three flights of stairs, and heading over two blocks just for a croissant.

But then you discovered that your dear darling boyfriend had used up the last of the aspirin and forgot to restock the first aid kits and you promptly burst into tears. Despite your efforts of trying to shuffle out of the bedroom without waking up the exhausted vigilante who had crawled into bed sometime around four in the morning, Jason woke up at the second sniffle that escaped you and was in the bathroom before you could wipe the tears away from your cheeks.

He had taken one look at you, checked the calendar, and pushed you back towards the bed with the promise of being back in less than half an hour.

And Jason Todd always made good on his promise.

“I feel stupid,” you admitted. “I cried over nothing.”

“I’m telling you this because I love you. One time Dick put a lizard in my bed when I was nine and I cried.”

You snorted out a laugh and covered your face to hide your grin but he tugged your hand away and pecked your cheek. You sighed and titled your head back so you were staring at the ceiling. He rubbed a hand against the back of your neck to help relieve tension.

“I got you a tea and a croissant,” he murmured. “And I got more ibuprofen and some Motrin too.”

“Thank you.” You began to sit up but he stopped you with a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Stay,” he ordered. He slid out of the bedroom and you could hear cabinets opening and closing in the kitchen before he reappeared with tea in one hand and one of your cheap plastic Target plates in the other. With a grandiose flourish, he presented the plate for you. You sat up and accepted it with a grin. He disappeared again and returned seconds later with his own plate and tea which he set on his nightstand. Jason set up the heating pad and passed you a bottle of ibuprofen before he laid another kiss against your forehead and slid back under the covers on his side.

“Thank you,” you whispered, craning your head up so you could kiss the underside of his jaw. He harrumphed but a small smile tugged at his lips. He pushed your laptop onto the center of the bed and queued up Netflix.

“Only for you,” he murmured. You smirked and snuggled closer to his side. The great Red Hood, crime lord extraordinaire, was a total simp.

tag list: @annalayton19 @tiannamortis @khaetiin

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood fluff #dc imagine

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