#shoving the ramble under a read more

[kenntolog]

….. what if sukuna steals you’re phone while you’re scrolling on it and you magically pull a book out from behind your back because you predicted him to do that……

Bonus if he takes that too and closes it without a bookmark as he watches the smirk leave your face

an: hey anon!! sorry for the delay, hope u enjoy this :)) read more about cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader here!!

one thing that never fails to piss sukuna off if when people, specifically you, ignore him.

at first, whenever you start ignoring him — usually because he’s been too mean with his comments or behaviour towards you or has done something to make you really mad — his tactic is to just ignore you back. but that’s boring, sukuna gets bored so easily that he realises how pathetic he actually is. he even finds silence with you not boring. he could sleep on your chest at least.

so then, sukuna tries to woo you with affection; he kisses up your arms and call you his baby, his pretty girl and his one and only woman, he shoves his head between your arms and chest to kiss your face and not let you watch whatever the fuck you are watching on your phone(or reading, maybe even drawing). that usually is enough to melt the ice and say something resembling apologies.

if that doesn’t work, then it’s time for heavy artillery — he just takes your phone, throwing it away somewhere with no care and watches the way your unmoving features turn shocked and you finally talk to him(start complaining until he shuts you up with a kiss).

this time you seem to be prepared because when he takes your phone you pull out a damn book from under your pillow.

“what the hell?” sukuna curses at you, frowning when he notices the confident curve of your lips as you indulge yourself once again.

so after another period of silence he just rips the book out of your hand. at that you just stare at him, still stonefaced, just a curious brow raised.

that is until sukuna flips through the pages and closes the book quickly, letting the bookmark fall off somewhere, unable to contain his laughter at the sight of your smirk immediately disappearing.

“sukuna!”

he continues cackling like a maniac, clearly enjoying the bewilderment of your tone and happy that you finally talked to him.

“you’re such an ass,” you grumble, taking the book from him and frantically looking through pages to find the one you were reading last. “who even does that? that’s pure evil.”

he watches you with a sickly satisfied smile on his pleased face and takes the book away from once again, this time minding the bookmark you placed. sukuna wraps his arms around you tightly, bringing you to his chest.

“shouldn’t have ignored me for so long, loser, y’know i hate it.”

“that’s why i did it.”

“i will burn your book.”

you look up at him with a scared expression, suspecting that he might just really do that if you carry on, and he just continues smiling down at you like nothing happened. leaning down to press a kiss on the tip of your nose, sukuna finally feels you give into his touch, relaxing in his hold as you start rambling(complaining) about him being mean while he just dismisses everything you say, your soft voice lulling him to sleep.

#— miya writes! #sukuna x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader

[loveinhawkins]

The Championship Game of 1985 is only a quarter of the way done, and Eddie is already certain that it’s not going to be a Hawkins victory.

It kinda blows, honestly. It’s boring, like correctly guessing the ending of a movie five minutes in.

And yeah, sue him, maybe high school basketball is a legitimate source of entertainment—he can admit that in the safety of his own head, at least.

Take, for example, the first game of the ‘83 tournament, when a timeout was called with only seconds remaining: the Tigers’ last hope of winning was to miraculously sink a shot with the fraction of time they had left. The tension in the air was palpable as the team formed a huddle—Eddie couldn’t hear anything apart from students chanting, but he stood on his tiptoes and found a gap in the crowd, just in time to read Steve Harrington’s lips: “I’ll make it.”

And he had—with a goddamn stunning full-court jump shot, too, the ball falling through the net just before the buzzer sounded.

Like, come on. Eddie would only admit it under pain of death, but that definitely rivals the intensity of any worthy campaign.

But he can see none of that excitement now. The Tigers have had few opportunities to even get the ball, and whenever they do, Billy Hargrove seems to have taken it upon himself to hog the damn thing, like it’s a symbol of his masculinity.

Of course, he loses the ball—again—and his nostrils flare with anger.

Maybe that’s why Eddie notices it. He’s checked out of paying attention to the game itself, instead focusing on the jaded expressions of Hargrove’s teammates.

As the ball makes its way down center court, Eddie’s eyes are instead drawn to Steve Harrington. He looks pissed, wiping sweat off his forehead and shouting what looks like some pretty choice words at Hargrove’s back.

Hargrove doesn’t seem to acknowledge it, but for just a moment he goes completely still, and all Eddie can think is danger.

It’s covert, the way it’s all done. Hargrove’s move is quick and calculated; he steps far enough away afterwards that it looks like the whole thing is the fault of a rival player.

But Eddie sees the subtle shove. Sees Steve lose his footing.

He goes down hard.

Winces ripple through the audience. Eddie hears Robin Buckley from band suck air through her teeth, then ramble, “Shit, do you think it’s really bad? Beth Wildfire, on my soccer team, her bone, like, came out of her whole knee, you could see it, must’ve been six inches—”

It doesn’t look like anything as gory as that has happened; Steve is already up, and from the redness of his face, it initially seems as if the only thing that’s been hurt is his pride.

But as Eddie sidles to the end of the front row, within earshot of the bench, he sees that Steve can’t put his weight on one ankle, sees the telling way he grits his teeth while speaking.

“I can keep going,” he says, even as Jason Carver’s getting pulled up to replace him.

The coach barely spares Steve a glance, clapping Carver on the shoulder as he jogs onto the court.

“Get someone to take you over to the nurse.”

Steve’s spine goes rigid. “But I can—”

“Look, I don’t have time for this.” The coach finally looks at Steve directly, pointing a stern finger at his chest. “You’re benched, Harrington.”

Steve visibly deflates. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, and then he glances to the side, as if suddenly aware that he’s drawing attention to himself.

This time, when his teeth clench, Eddie thinks that it’s more from embarrassment than pain.

“Whatever,” Steve mutters, and he limps out of the hall—close enough that he clips Eddie by the shoulder as he goes.

Eddie doesn’t know that he’s made a decision until he’s already moving, stepping to the side.

He turns and heads for the exit.

There’s a jeering call from the bench: Mark Lewinsky.

“Aw, what are you gonna do, Munson? Nurse him back to health?”

Obscene moaning noises, punctuated with laughter.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

He finds Steve in the corridor, bracing himself with a hand against the wall. There’s a couple of pictures on the floor, class photos taken for the yearbook that had been pinned up; Steve must have inadvertently torn them down as he grappled for balance.

“Go away, Munson,” he says without looking. “Go back to the game.”

“I’ve kinda lost interest,” Eddie says lightly. He manages to watch Steve take one painful step before he simply can’t do it anymore—stepping forward, he says, “Christ, Harrington, here.”

Steve jolts away from his hand. “Fuck off, I don’t need—”

“Well, fuck you too, then,” Eddie snaps. Something’s burning in his chest, a sudden and fierce hurt. “Jesus Christ. You know what I am isn’t fucking catching, right?”

He shocks himself by saying it.

In the silence that follows all he can think is that, for once, his dad was right: he never did learn how to shut his damn mouth.

Steve’s staring at him, pressing his back against the wall like it’s the one thing keeping him upright.

“That’s—that’s not why—” He breaks off, looks completely lost.

Somewhere within Eddie’s own mortification, he takes pity on him.

He sniffs, tries to act nonchalant. “Don’t hurt yourself, man.”

“No, I—I didn’t mean…” Steve sighs. “I’m sorry. That’s not—I just meant—” He pushes off from the wall again, wobbles until his hand finds purchase. “Just meant I can do it myself.”

Eddie feels his heart rate slow. He tilts his head. Re-examines Steve’s posture: the set to his jaw, the pained determination.

Years ago, Eddie broke his wrist at the fair, thanks to an awkward crash while on the bumper cars. It was the first summer that staying at Wayne’s had become a permanent thing, and Eddie had hidden his wrist beneath the folds of his too-large leather jacket, but Wayne met him off the ride and immediately noticed (“Chrissake, Ed. I’m not mad, kid. Just… lemme help you?”).

Eddie tried to stay silent as he got wrapped into a splint, because anything else felt like admitting to something.

Felt shameful.

“Yeah, you can,” Eddie says, shrugging. He pauses. Takes a chance. “Doesn’t mean you have to, though.”

He moves forward again—slower this time. Offers his hand.

Steve takes it.

“For the record,” he says, grunting as he shifts his weight, “I could’ve kept playing. Like, I’ve had worse.”

Yeah, Eddie thinks, you sure have.

Steve clearly hasn’t sensed that Eddie’s thoughts have gone to how messed up his face was last winter, because he keeps talking.

“Anyway. My own damn fault.” A rueful grin. “Didn’t plant my feet.”

“Don’t,” Eddie says. “You don’t have to… I saw. I saw Hargrove, man.”

Steve scoffs quietly. “Yeah, of course you did.”

“Shit, Harrington, way to make me sound like a stalker.”

“No, it’s just—” Steve shakes his head. “Just typical, that’s all. Remember when the fire alarm went off, last spring? You were the only one who noticed Debbie Lyons was missing.”

“Uh, so?”

Steve smiles. “So… you notice things.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say.

But he gives it a try as they round another corner.

“What the fuck is Hargrove’s problem with you, dude?”

Steve chuckles wryly. “I’m really annoying.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Eddie says, grinning when Steve manages to elbow him in the ribs. “But not, like, ‘intentionally injure’ levels of annoying. He threw the game, too.”

“Huh?”

Eddie fixes Steve with a pointed look. “Took out one of our best players.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but still looks undeniably pleased. “Shuddup.” He sobers in the space of taking another step and says, “With Hargrove, it’s… there’s bigger things than basketball, y’know?”

Eddie hears the just drop it underneath what’s spoken. He nods.

They’re almost at the nurse’s office when Steve sighs. “S’not exactly how I pictured it.”

“Hmm?”

“My last game.” Steve winces slightly as they inch closer to the door; Eddie tries to take more of his weight. “Had it in my head that I’d win, go out on a high.”

Eddie’s staring down the prospect of repeating senior year again—he knows all about having ideas in your head that don’t quite pan out.

“Life isn’t like a movie, Harrington,” he says.

It comes out perhaps more fond than he intended.

For some reason, Steve starts laughing like he’s heard something downright hilarious. “Yeah, gonna have to agree to disagree on that one, Munson.”

In the nurse’s office, they find out Steve’s probably got a bad sprain rather than a fracture (“See? I totally could’ve kept playing,” Steve insists), but that he should get it checked out at the hospital, just in case.

Ice pack in one hand, Steve makes a call on the office phone, with what sounds like a morbidly curious teen on the other end: “No, dude, there’s no blood—can you be normal for, like, two seconds and put your mom on? Thank you.”

As Steve hangs up, Eddie is very aware that the right time to leave was probably five minutes ago.

He stays put.

“This was supposed to be my last game, too,” he says.

“Was?”

Eddie clicks his tongue. “Well. S’not confirmed yet, haven’t had my last test results back. But uh, it’s kinda like the game.” He nods in the direction that they came, towards the basketball court. “I already know which way it’s gonna go.”

There’s no judgement in Steve’s eyes. “Sorry. Must’ve been boring to watch.”

Eddie smiles. “Nah, you’re good.”

He doesn’t say that, in his eyes, Steve’s single-handedly given the school almost all of its memorable basketball moments. That his secret favourite one isn’t even a Tigers victory: there was a game when Steve was poised to take the winning shot, and a kid from Connersville fainted.

In the few seconds of confusion, Steve could’ve still taken the shot. He could’ve won.

But as soon as he realised what was going on, he refused to.

To Eddie, that says more about him than any triumph ever could.

The phone rings again; the nurse is letting a Mrs Henderson in at the front of the school to pick up Steve.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Eddie says, because there’s only so many people allowed in the office at one time.

“See you, Munson. Um, thanks, by the way. Hope next year’s championship is, uh, better.”

There’s something in the way he says it, like even while still in the building, he’s drifting away, high school in his rear view mirror.

Oh, Eddie thinks wistfully, you’re already halfway outta here, aren’t you?

Goddamnit. I might actually miss you, Steve Harrington. You and your stupid hair.

“Hmm, can’t see myself going to watch next year.”

“Oh, yeah? How come?”

Eddie lingers in the doorway. Maybe it’s the fact that in a few weeks they’re never gonna see each other again. Maybe that helps him say it. Makes him a little braver.

He’s never learned to shut his damn mouth.

“My favourite player’s leaving,” he says.

And sure, he leaves barely a second later; he’s not that brave.

But he stays just long enough to catch Steve’s smile: startled, pleased, and perhaps just a little shy—like he’s made the winning shot after all.

#i just love the thought that Eddie used to secretly enjoy basketball ‘for some reason’ ❤️ #pre steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #implied homophobia

[stariikis]

ni-ki as your study date •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

synopsis ; the price you paid for choosing an athletic boyfriend over an academic one? no practical help when you're drowning in mysterious equations and symbols. but at least he's good at comforting the perfectionist in you.

pairing ; athletic!nishimura riki x academic achiever!reader genre ; fluff, established rs wc ; 802 warnings n notes ; dear readers, these two are mentally suffering because one doesn't care and the other cares too much! trigger warning, bio phys chem and math mentioned..

“-And during PE we played badminton, and Jake hyung was soooo bad today. He kept trying to smash but missed the shuttlecock.” Beside you, with his “I-swear-I’ll-finish-three-chapters-today” Physics textbook hardly opened to the first page, Riki doesn’t stop rambling about the various sports he’s played today. You’ve heard enough about the goals he scored during an impromptu morning game of football. The way his best friend fumbled during a badminton match. How his legs ache from standing in the sun for hours during baseball training. You’re about to tug him out the cafe by his jersey. 

“Are you going to start your notes or what?” You shove him with a lighthearted tone, barely concealing the exasperation behind your words. “All that talk about wanting to finally get an A but you still keep yapping. About sports, no less.” 

Riki rolls his eyes and mock-salutes in your direction. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Taking a sip of your matcha latte, you sigh resolutely and return to examine various electronic configurations. Perhaps now, Riki will leave you in peace… 

Only five minutes later, you’re snapped out of focus with a sheepish nudge. 

“What’s a moment…” “OH my days Nishimura Riki how can you not know what a moment is that’s like basic physics you’re supposed to have known that since we started chapter TWO.” 

Shrinking under your scoldings, he glances back at his textbook, reads the definition and looks back towards you. “I don’t get it.” 

With another heavy sigh, you scoot closer and attempt to explain as simply as you possibly can. However, he’s deliberately distracting you, with playful caresses through your hair and touches of kisses as smooth as silk on your cheek. You’ve got to be turning a beetroot red, but you ignore the warmth spreading through your cheeks and continue on. 

“Now repeat what I just said to you.” Refusing to give in to his silly antics, you cross your arms and lean back. Swiping the hair his fingers touched, not too long ago, out the way. 

He pouts, knowing him acting cute is your soft spot. “That’s not fair.” 

“Why?” You press, but relent and hunch back over your notes. “You know what, just focus on relearning your balanced forces. Do you remember what the principles of moments even is?” Oh wait, he doesn’t even know what a moment is. The way he blinks once at his textbook and blinks twice your way proves this. 

“At this point, I’m not dead, you’re more cooked than I am. And I am cooked.” 

Gasping scandalously, he whisper shouts, “You’re literally my academic goal, what are you on? I wish I had the motivation you did. Okay, more like I wish I had your grades, but we both know that’s not happening.” 

He gestures to all the bruises he’s obtained over the past week, scratches and wounds that demonstrate how dedicated he is to all the sports he partakes in. They’re his own personal souveniers. Although most fade quickly, some leave scars burning in his skin, but he’s proud of them all even when you express your concern for him. 

He’s always been like that. Dismissive of concerning matters because he enjoys showing people how strong he is. Internally and externally. The complete opposite of him, one Maths question you get wrong and you start questioning the very bane of your existence. 

You fall into silence, looking back at your notes. You have lost track of where Chemistry starts and ends, your paper copy of the periodic table crumpled and defaced from your bursts of frustration. You may not show it, but there’s so much going on in your head it’s hard to escape the fog you’ve mentally put yourself in. With the crazy STEM course you’ve chosen, you know that you’re definitely on the train tracks with a sign pointing towards a crash site. 

Either you shut yourself out and pass with flying colours, or you enjoy life and fail miserably. There’s no in between. Is it so hard to want to maintain a social life and a healthy relationship, while topping your class and achieving high honours? Perhaps it is. 

Noticing your sudden stillness, Riki panics. “You’re stressing out again. Why are you stressing out again? You’re doing well. Well, compared to me. Should I just do bio? Things with numbers are always complicated..” 

You laugh as he looks back at his noteless textbook. 

“Anyway, I think you’re doing just fine.” Riki murmurs, massaging your back with his hand. “Don’t overwork yourself and you’ll be fine. Just like you were, and always will be. Do you want me to test you?” 

“That’d be nice…” You smile, watching his eyes light up a little too eagerly when he closes his textbook. “But you’re just saying that so you don’t have to study anymore, right?”

how life be feeling rn, send prayers

#stariikis #enhypen #nishimura riki #enhypen x reader #enhypen riki #nishimura riki x reader #riki x reader #enhypen niki #nishimura riki x you #nishimura riki enhypen #nishimura niki #riki nishimura x reader #niki au #riki fic #riki x you #riki fluff #ni-ki x reader #niki fanfic #niki x reader #ni ki #ni-ki #riki #riki x y/n #ni ki x reader

[candyk0rn]

Cuddles : BG3

It’s been a while! I hope you’re all doing great, and I’m sorry for once more going on a forever break lol. But of course, Baldurs Gate 3 brainrot is so real

Before reading: Fluff, headcanons, Astarion, Lae’Zel, Gale, Shadowheart x reader (separate), gn reader

Astarion:

“Oh? I see you still can’t say no to my endless charm..”

At the beginning of the relationship, touches and prodding aren’t uncommon

Anything that can bring your attention to him

It takes a while and a lot of convincing from you that his somewhat risqué touches was not all that pleased you

And eventually he can even process that you don’t just love him for his body

Although hard for him to realize, with your help he can

So after your relationship has really blossomed and grown, his touches become softer, calmer, more intimate

Nights by the crackling fire, you in his lap, his hand massaging your nape

His fingers are dangerously cold against your skin, but there’s a sense of comfort that comes with the chill

Although he will brush off your reassurance as pitiful and unneeded..

Please reassure him omg

For the longest time, he will surely believe you are like all his other conquests,

Seduced by him and his charms

But just small whispers of love into his ear, your comforting touch against his skin

That’s enough for him.

Gale:

“Come with me, we shall rest under the stars tonight.”

I am of the firm believer that Gale is horribly touch-starved, poor man

Taken advantage of by his own Goddess, thinking that that is the best he would ever be able to do

Then when you come along, it all changed

His thoughts about himself seem to change, his standards seem to change, his love seems to change

He cares so much about you, he cannot help but think he is not worthy

That a cursed, unfaithful man as himself could never even breathe the same air as you

But all of his doubts and worries seem to melt away when you two hold one another underneath the stars

Your fingers lovingly combing through his hair as he rambles on about something he is passionate about

Wether it be a book, his expertise in magic, or Tara (lmao)

Others would shove him off as a show-off, annoying, etc

But you are so willing to hear him go on and on, that he can’t help but love you

His index finger instinctively draws shapes into your back when you hold each other

When he’s cuddled up with you, his worries that today might be his last don’t even cross his mind

He’s more worried about you, how you feel, if you’re comfortable

He doesn’t care if tonight is the last night he shall ever see you

He’d rather die tomorrow than live for an eternity never knowing you

Lae’Zel:

“Chk..I do not take part in worthless acts of intimacy.”

Lae’Zel is not much of a ‘cuddles’ person

Like at all…

She’d rather feel the thrill of battle with you, bathing in the blood of your enemies

Her way of loving is slaughtering anyone who even just looks at you the wrong way

But, if you’re particularly lucky, or especially down

She can’t help but..pity you

In her mind, it’s such a disgusting feeling. This ‘love’ makes her weak, but she cannot run from it no matter how much she tries

The most touch you’ll get from her will only occur in private

A hand perched protectively on your hip or waist

Her head slumped on your shoulder when you’re on watch for the night

acts like this, although small

It means so,so much from her

And she’ll kill you if you go telling Shadowheart about how ‘sweet’ she was being last night

Shadowheart:

“My love…ugh. I’m still not used to calling someone that.”

Shadowheart is lost when it comes to you

Not only is she horribly confused that you of all people would love her

She’s confused as to how she’s supposed to love you

Her entire life, for what she can remember, she’s never been shown comfort or remorse

If she did something wrong, she was punished

She doesn’t remember a single moment in her life when she was loved the way you love her

And although grateful, she feels unworthy

Hugs are common with her, of course in private, but common nonetheless

When she hold you in her arms, the pads of her fingers massage your back lovingly, worried if she lets go, you’ll flee

Let! Her! Play! With! Your! Hair! 🙏🏻

And please play with hers omg

At night, she’ll let her hair down and allow your hands to explore her long, black (or white) locks

Your touch sends shivers down her spine, a feeling she’s not used to, but craves so much

She truly hopes that you’ll never leave her, for now that she has tasted your touch,

She never wants that sensation to leave

Thanks for reading!

#x reader #fanfic #fyp #baldurs gate gale #baldur's gate 3 #Baldurs Gate #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate laezel #baldurs gate shadowheart #astarion x reader #shadowheart x reader #laezel x reader #Gale x reader #fluff #headcanons #Baldurs Gate headcanons #Baldurs Gate fanfic #candyk0rn #video game #x y/n #tav #Baldurs Gate tav #for you page

[catboyieejeno]

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 :((

#nct imagines #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct fanfic #nct #nct reactions #nct moodboard #nct dream #nct 127 #nct smut #park jisung fluff #park jisung #jisung x reader #park jisung scenarios #nct dream reactions #nct dream fluff #nct dream x reader #jisung imagines #jisung smut #nct jisung #nct icons #park jisung smut #nct jisung smut #catboyieejeno #catboyieejeno gameboy #jisung nct #nct dream imagines #jisung scenarios #nct dream scenarios

[winchester-books]

This Isn’t What it Looks Like

Based on- OBX

characters- jj x reader (john b’s sister)

warnings- language, suggestive themes

w/c- 500

summary- john b accidentally traumatizes himself when he walks in on jj and his sister doing what he thinks is the “deed” but is really nothing of the sorts.

You opened your eyes once again, glaring at the ceiling as JJ’s alarm rang in your ears from the room next door. You grabbed your phone to check the time, anger only growing when it read 6:00am.

Never in your life had you seen JJ Maybank up and moving before 9.

You ripped the covers off, goosebumps rising on your legs from the cool air. “JJ, Maybank I am going to kill you,” you grumbled, storming into the chateau’s guest room which your brother’s best friend had claimed as his own.

“JJ!” You reached forward and shook him when you got no reply. Immediately, you were met with him swatting your hand away with a groan. You repeated yourself, only for him to yank the covers over his head and roll over.

You snatched his phone, silencing the alarm that was still ringing. No way in hell you were gonna let him sleep through the morning after his alarm had ripped you from yours.

JJ let out a yelp as you seized the pillow out from under his head and smacked it down onto his head. He jolted up, eyes narrowing as he realized you were the culprit, “Y/N! What the hell?!”

Before you could reply he was taking hold of the pillow and hitting you back.

“You’re the one who set an alarm for the ass crack of dawn!” You shot back, dodging his blows as best you could. You stepped towards the door to make your escape, but not fast enough. JJ grabbed your arm, pulling you into his bed with him.

After taking a few more hits, you managed to get on top of him, grabbing the pillow back and laughing as you smacked it down onto his face. Your success was short lived though, he quickly got ahold of your shoulders and rolled you beneath him, grinning as he did so.

“Not so funny now, huh?” He mocked, regaining control of the pillow and landing it to your face. You tried to shove him off, but had no luck as he kept you pinned to the mattress.

“God, it’s literally six in the morning could you guys please keep it down-” John B cut himself off, no longer half asleep as he stood in the doorway and caught a glimpse of what didn’t look so innocent, “Shit- gross, ugh!” He stumbled over his words almost as much as his feet as he backed out, dragging the door closed as he did so, “At least close the door- JESUS!”

JJ dropped his head down in silent laughter as your eyes grew wide at your brother’s insinuation, “John B, hold on! It’s not like that- this isn’t what it looks like!”

He didn’t seem to be listening, you could here bits and pieces of him rambling to Sarah who was probably just trying to sleep in his room.

JJ finally rolled off of you, plopping down next to you in bed.

“There’s no way that just happened,” you groaned, covering your reddened face with your hand.

JJ chuckled again, “And to think of all the times he hasn’t caught us…” he smirked. “Of course he thinks something’s up the one time we aren’t doing anything,”

You rolled your eyes, lightly smacking him. “This is mortifying. We weren’t even-” you sighed as you trailed off, beyond embarrassed.

You turned to look at JJ as you felt him reposition himself in the bed, now on his side with his hand on his chin as he looked at you. He rose his eyebrows, shrugging slightly, “I mean, if the cats out of the bag… might as well take advantage of it,”

You rolled your eyes, but found yourself smiling as you looked at the blonde boy. He leaned over, lips pressing to yours as he pulled your body closer to his by your hips.

“If he thought we were loud before, he’s about to be pissed,” JJ joked, rolling himself back on top of you.

#outer banks imagine #outer banks #obx #outer banks x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fluff

[jihyoruri]

I feel like nobody has asked this but can we get some wow!yn and aeri moments I know for sure they have questionable but cute friendship moments on camera

✮GISELLE AND YN BEST MOMENTS — aeri x wow!yn

warnings: idol au, wow!yn, you can also find more wow!yn stuff in my masterlist <;33

➩ CLIP #1 PLAYING… 📼

“I’m meeting a friend.” aeri said to the camera as she walks, “most of the time we see each other like everyday but we’ve been so busy lately so I’m excited to see her.” she continue trying not to say the persons name for suspense but everyone knew who she was talking about.

“we always meet at this hangout place that we discovered there’s just a bunch of seating and music and they sell records as well, it’s pretty cool.” the girl rambles as she walks up to the place opening the door the indie music playing loud enough for aeri to wince at the camera.

she scans the area and her eyes lights up when she spots the certain someone sitting in the corner with her face in her phone, her managers sitting a couple seats away from her.

aeri quickly gives the camera to her manager and speed walks over to the girl her manager walking closer behind.

“ynnnn.” aeri sings walking over to the girl with a wide smile on her face, she stands above yn as the girl looks up from her phone and adjusts the backwards cap on her head looking at aeri with a small smile.

yn takes aeri’s hand in hers swinging it slightly, “aeriiii.” she mocks before taking a quick glance at the camera in the mangers hand and sends aeri a teasing look, “using me for veiws?”

aeri rolls her eyes before sitting on yn's lap muttering a “shut up”

yn wraps her arms around the older girl and looks up at the camera singing the lyrics to the song playing in the background, aeri also joining in.

➩ CLIP #2 PLAYING… 📼

both yn and aeri laughed their heart out at the most dumbest things that came out of each other’s mouths, both girls were on live after aeri spammed yn to join her live.

fans enjoy watching the two girls cause it’s like watching two best friends on a facetime, “wait wait I can’t breathe.” yn said taking her face out of the camera and tilting her phone to said causing aeri to laugh harder but the girl took notice of the lump under a blanket beside yn the only thing being shown was hair.

“um, what’s that?” aeri asked trying her best to be serious but the way she asked it had the girls laughing again.

yn tilted the camera back to her, “oh, that’s wonyoung.” she said nonchalantly after another giggling fit.

aeri raised an exaggerated brow at yn causing the younger girl to do one back sending them back into another laughing fit.

➩ CLIP #3 PLAYING… 📼

somi turned the camera so it showed yn, aeri and her all there girls decked out in chrome hearts in an alley way, “the trio is back.” she said to the camera with a serious face, yn making a serious face as well but aeri ruined it by bursting out in laughter, leaning into the girls shoulder as the taller girl looked down at her unamused.

“you ruined it.” she groans as somi explains that the girls have been trying to do with intro for like 15 minutes but it constantly got ruined by the aespa member laughing.

“don’t talk to your elder like that.” aeri said pointing up at yn’s face with faux seriousness.

“I’ll talk to you however I want.” the ive member says with attitude.

“guys she’s so disrespectful to me.” aeri says to the camera as somi turned it towards the two girls.

aeri shoves yn and tries to run away but is stoped by the younger girl grabbing into her hood and pulling the older girl into her, she lets out a scream as yn laughs, somi’s laughs also being heard in the background.

“she thought she could get away.” yn says into the camera wrapped an arm around aeri’s neck pulling the girl closer to her.

➩ CLIP #4 PLAYING… 📼

both girls sat beside each other on the floor their legs crossed as they answered fans questions on the live.

“have you guys ever dated someone?” aeri reads before laughing and turns to the younger girl who unbottens her flannel a little acting like she didn’t hear the a question.

“yn I know you heard me.”

“huh?” the girl asks only to be met with a teasing face from aeri.

she sighs and innocently looks at the camera, “I’ve never dated anyone, I’m too innocent for that.” she says causing aeri to let out the most biggest laugh ever heard.

yn tries her best to be serious and not laugh as aeri laughs her heart out.

“I only belong to my fans.” she says scratching the back of her neck.

“starship training.” aeri says between laughs finally causing yn to burst out in laughter.

➩ CLIP #5 PLAYING… 📼

aeri stands on the stage alongside many other idols waving fans with her members.

she lets out a startled sound when she feels someone wrap both of their hands around her from behind.

she turns around and slaps yn’s shoulder, scolding the younger girl for scaring her.

yn laughs and interlocks her hand with aeri before both girls walk together on the stage, waving at fans and talking to each other.

#aespa x reader #wow!yn #aespa giselle #giselle x reader #aeri x reader #aespa fluff #ive #girl group fluff #girl group imagines #aespa #aespa aeri

[kivino]

I DON’T CARE WHAT’S IN YOUR HAIR || ROOMMATE!JOHN ‘SOAP’ MACTAVISH X GN!READER

Word Counter – 1.9k

Tags/Warnings – Some friendly banter, can be read as both platonic and romantic, fluff!

Summary – Your roommate Johnny comes back after his deployment and his hair looks like it needs a little trimming.

A/n – I AM ON MY ROOMMATE!SOAP AGENDA AND I WILL SPREAD IT FAR AND WIDE. let me know if you guys would like to see more roommate!Soap things on my blog, i'm very interested in different opinions!!!

ao3 link!!

Soap couldn’t wait until he was finally back home – several months had passed since his last leave and he was getting restless and antsy without the very much-needed rest. And, well, your company, which he missed more and more each day. You’d constantly be on his mind, plaguing his every thought with your presence, from a rather simple, passing “Oh, they’d like this joke” inside his head to talking the ears off of anyone who’d listen to him ramble about his lovely roommate, who he affectionately called “my dumbass back home”. Slowly, but surely, the number of people willing to lend an ear to restless Johnny became less and less, with each day of him staying on the base. So really, it was more of a favor extended to all the resident soldiers there.

Soap could almost feel the buzz of excitement itching under his skin, the commute back to your shared apartment was really long and tiring; the huge duffel bag filled to the brim with dirty laundry and a variety of clothes he shoved inside in a hurry didn’t help with the soreness in his body either. Soap, thankfully, didn’t forget to tell you earlier this week that his leave got approved, which you didn’t seem too excited about over the text, but he knew that you were screaming and jumping from joy. Maybe.

The last time he forgot to do that ahead of time he came back to an absolute disaster inside the apartment, with you trying to cook dinner while doing laundry, vacuuming, and cussing him out for not telling you earlier. Truth be told, Johnny didn’t mind if the apartment was messy, with undone dishes and whatnot, he’d help you do everything, but you were fixed on the fact that you should do it yourself and it’s absolutely crucial that everything has to be perfect by the time he’s back. Ghost joked that you had some military spouse mentality when Soap mentioned it to him (among countless other times he’d tell the big guy about you). Maybe there was some truth to this joke. Just maybe.

Regardless, Johnny could feel the bounce in his step and the same lightness in his chest when he was finally within a short walking distance of the apartment, and he just simply couldn’t wait to see you, even if you were a bit tired after all the cleaning you’d have to do in the apartment to keep up this image of a “perfect roommate”, despite being to him much more than just that. Seconds drag out unbearably long when he’s going up the steep stairs in the building that have certainly seen better times than the 21st century, and Soap thinks he could combust when he has to rummage through his pockets for the keys he hasn’t used in months. Johnny could hear the vacuum moaning from exertion from his place outside the door and an unintentional smile grazes his lips when he hears you cursing something out in your native language. Johnny finally fishes the key out of his pocket, hurriedly unlocks the door, and goes inside, as quietly as he can, which you can still hear even over the sound of a working vacuum.

“Johnny, you ass, you’re finally back.” You’re immediately distracted from the home appliance, as you turn it off and focus your attention solely on Soap, running up to him across the room and helping him with the giant duffel bag. “Thought you died out there with long they held up your leave.” You mumble with a chuckle that turns into a rough shriek, courtesy of Johnny squeezing the life out of you with a tight and warm embrace.

“Aye, there we go, bonnie, let’s hug it out!” If you could hear over his loud booming voice you were sure you’d hear your bones snapping from how tight his arms wrapped around your torso. You’d probably hug him back if you could free your arms out of Johnny’s hug too, but that didn’t seem to be an option at the moment.

“Johnny, for fuck’s sake, you stink!” You only hear a hearty laugh in response to your dramatic delivery. You tried to seem annoyed with Soap, which was a bit harder than you initially thought. You kind of missed him, the apartment felt cold and empty without his chatter.

“And that’s how you treat me after we haven’t seen each other for months? You wound me so deep.” The man says in a mock-sad tone. Deep inside of him, he felt that – you’re not being serious and just messing with him. So, he only continued squeezing you in his arms, without much thought. “When did you shower last time anyway?” you ask with a light groan. “Not in the past 24 hours, I’ll tell ya that.” Johnny’s chest rumbles with a low laugh and you can feel those vibrations going right through you, from how close you were.

“Oh, fuck off. And what’s with the hair? Decided to take some fashion advice from those edgy lads down the road?” You finally look up at Soap and he looks…Interesting to say the least. It’s obvious that someone probably helped him trim down the sides, since they didn’t appear much longer than they were several months ago when he left last. The longer part of the mohawk, however, made him look like he decided to go full mullet, with parts of his hair cut in certain places, like there was an attempt to make it shorter. It wasn’t bad-looking by any stretch of the imagination (in fact, you were sure, that Johnny can make look good just about anything if he managed to pull off the fucking mohawk in the first place), but you had to take the piss at him while you had the chance.

“Everyone’s a critic. Help me cut it then, will ya?” The man asks, slightly loosening his iron grip on you to look you in the eyes with an infectious smile.

“Only after you wash.”

“Naturally.”

And that’s how you find yourself in the cramped, tight bathroom of your apartment, Johnny sitting in front of the mirror on a stool, back hunched over the sink and you standing right behind him, with a pair of scissors and a clear goal in mind – sort out whatever mess was on his head. If it was up to you, you’d find a person who decided to make Johnny the next victim of their questionable fashion choices and cut off their fingers so they can never hold anything that can cut hair in their hands again. But for now, you just have to figure out what to do with Soap.

“You look like a feral rat on steroids, Johnny,” You say, as your fingers slowly drift through the longer, very grown-out parts of his mohawk. You look at his reflection in the mirror and your eyes meet, despite the weird angle his head was positioned at, just to rest on your stomach. Soap gives you a lopsided smile and closes his eyes with a relaxed sigh. That bath must’ve been good, you scrubbed the shit out of the bathroom yesterday.

“Well, somebody’s gotta be the pretty one outta the pair of us.” If you were meaner than you already are you’d yank his hair to teach his ass a lesson. But you don’t. And he knows you wouldn’t do that, which is why you can see one barely open blue eye staring back at you from the mirror. He’s such a pain in the ass, but you love him. The world will collapse the day you actually acknowledge that though.

“You’re butt-ugly.” You mumble instead, playing with the damp strands of hair that refused to stand up the way they did before his deployment. You didn’t know much about the military dress code but you’d be surprised if he wasn’t violating any regulations with how his hair looked.

“Yer mum would disagree.” Johnny gave another hearty laugh and leaned more into you with his back. It really felt great to be back home. He could’ve still lived with his parents and sisters back on that farm, but as much as he loved them, relatives were too much sometimes. Maybe he should visit them soon with you. That’d be great. Johnny just has to explain beforehand that you’re only roommates, so it doesn’t turn into a big mess, that he’d hate to sort out.

“You don’t even know my mum, you wanker.” You slap Johnny on the shoulder lightly and he doesn’t even flinch. “Come on, straighten up.” He reluctantly obeys and gets up from his unusual resting position, you hear no verbal protests from him. With a light, gentle motion your hand ruffles his hair in approval.

“I’m sure she’s a woman of refined taste.” This earns Soap another slap to the shoulder, to which he laughs like a damn schoolboy. Your eyes are glued to his hair, studying it carefully. You didn’t have much experience even trimming it on somebody else, so this was a bit nerve-wracking – you didn’t want to mess up and make Johnny look worse. Although not a lot of things could look genuinely bad on the man, you were willing to admit that. You finally take the scissors that have been sitting on the edge of the sink for the past half hour and pinch the longer stand that fell over Johnny's eyes between your index and middle fingers. “Well, what are you waiting for? Cut it.” He tries to hurry you, and you can’t even see the way he observes your expression - brows tied together in a thoughtful frown, Johnny thought it looked quite cute.

“Shut up, I’m thinking.” Your eyes rise to the mirror again and he playfully rolls his eyes. He doesn’t say anything though, letting you take your time, as you put down the scissors. You start ruffling Johnny’s hair again and you see the way he closes his eyes in the reflection, a warm smile stretching his lips. Your hand rests on the side of his face for a moment and not even a second passes, before you feel Soap’s palm rest over it in a gentle motion. But it doesn’t end on it, when he rubs his cheek over your skin, his stubble scratching you slightly. You let him have this moment though.

You look at his hair, as you ruffle and play with it using your free hand, and your realization makes you want to bash your head on the wall. You like it better like this. This is stupid and you feel like an idiot. At least you had an idea on how you can tell Johnny that you changed your mind about cutting his hair. Your fingers dive into his hair again, scratching the scalp lightly with the nails as you give your final verdict, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“I don’t think I can make it any worse than it already is, to be honest. Somebody fucked you over real good with that one.” You lie right to his face. Johnny opens his eyes and gives you a mischievous smile when he hears that.

“So, what I hear is you’re chickening out?’ He asks with a light, airy laugh that makes even the cold bathroom feel warmer.

“Johnny, get out of here before I shave you bald”

check out my masterlist or send me a request/comment!

#cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty mwii #call of duty x reader #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x gn!reader #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish #cod soap #soap call of duty #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw fanfiction #mw2 2022 #mw2 soap #mw2022

[pedgito]

okay i had this idea of eddie and reader fucking in a closet or an enclosed space of some kind yk being real sneaky and shit. and the reader lets him finish in their mouth. then he kisses the reader with his cum in his mouth bc he nasty like that. sorry if this was a really specific request it’s been sitting in my brain for ages.

author’s note: full warning, if this grosses you out, don’t read. and i don’t want to hear how much you don’t like it in my inbox because i don’t care lol. but for those of you that do read this, enjoy my nasty eddie thoughts.

cw: 18+ (minors dni) semi-public (in a closet), voyeurism (if you squint), oral (m receiving), fluid play/bonding (idk they share eddie’s jizz yeah), established relationship, eddie is v gross but we love that shit, if i missed anything lmk

word count: 1.7k

Eddie didn’t do parties, ever. It was just another spectacle and a place for him to be laughed at, wondering who invited the freak to drink and kill the vibe—but for you, he endures it. That and everyone knows to keep their mouth shut around you. It’s nice, Eddie can admit that—but it’s also damn near impossible for him to keep his hands off of you in public, not that you had a problem with it.

Dating Eddie hit you completely out of nowhere, ending up in an after school detention with him that left very little to be discovered about each other, both in your likes and dislikes, but also your bodies.

And so what if you fucked Eddie with only one twenty minute conversation under your belt—he was levels above most of the guys you fucked, even if he was a little bit inexperienced in the beginning.

He’s more surprised at how easily your perfect persona is tarnished in front of him—good grades, nice friends, always smiling at everyone who walks by. You were never mean to anyone, which is why no one ever said shit when you started your mornings cuddled up to Eddie at his locker.

They could look and stare, but no one dared to comment on it.

Eddie’s quick to feed into it, openly kissing you in the halls, grabbing at your ass under the short confines of your skirt or tight jeans—it would emit a few groans, but you didn’t care.

Not for a second.

He’s insatiable, really—and nasty to the core. You never really expected to like it as much as you did, settling for missionary and doggy style in most of your hook-ups, minimal eye contact, and getting straight to the point; not to say you didn’t enjoy it, but with Eddie, it’s kismet.

You could never say no.

“Hey, hey,” You murmur against his lips, his hands blindly reaching for the doorknob to shove you into Steve Harrinton’s bedroom, leaving the door open just a crack, “we can leave if you want—do you wanna leave?”

“Mmm,” Eddie shakes his head, breathing hotly against your mouth, “don’t think I can wait that long, wanna fuck you right now.”

You giggle softly, arms wrapped around his neck as he hoists you up, licking into your mouth with the same edge of depravity he always carried, growling lowly. His hands slip past the waistband of your jeans, contacting the bare skin underneath.

“No panties,” Eddie notes, “dirty girl.”

“Do you expect anything less?” You tease, squealing softly as he buries his face into your neck, nipping at the skin.

But, the loud ramblings of another pair of bodies stumbling down the hall has you both in a panic—Eddie nearly shuts the door close, but you’re hopping off of him to pull him into the closet before he can act, sliding the slatted, wooden doors close, leaving little light to leak through.

You force your hand over Eddie’s mouth, his features barely visible aside from the tiny spec of light that hits his face from the lamp on the table beside the closet. He blinks, confused.

It doesn’t take long for you both to realize that it’s Steve—and some girl you’ve only talked to a few times at school, who seemed a lot more familiar with Steve than you expect, hands reaching under waistband of his boxers from where his jeans hang open loosely, you avert your eyes quickly, connecting with Eddie’s.

He’s got that ridiculous smirk on his face, having caught you in the act of peeping, shifting the closet door shut tight—no more peeking on his account. His hands keep busy, whether on your neck, your breasts, over the expanse of your back, just touching because he wanted to—but you can feel how impatient he’s being, hard in his jeans from where’s pressed up against you in the small space.

“We can’t,” You whisper softly, feeling Eddie’s hands squeeze at the slope of your ass, pulling you in closer, “Eddie, I’m serious.”

“It’s Steve,” He murmurs, lips connecting with your neck briefly, “he won’t even know.”

Eddie was right—but the hesitation was still there.

“I’m not letting you fuck me in a closet,” You force out in a hushed whisper, “get over yourself.”

Eddie chuckles lightly, fumbling with the front of his pants carefully, mouth still busy against your skin, “Never said anything about that, but if I need to find a way to keep that mouth occupied, I can think of a few.”

You look at him sternly—Eddie can faintly read your expression, smiling confidently as his belt jingles quietly, slow to unzip his jeans.

“Because as much as I love to hear you talk, that mouth is good at other things,” Eddie says knowingly, “unless, of course, you’d rather watch Steve—“

“Fuck off.” You mutter, sinking to your knees with ease, yanking Eddie’s jeans down his hips impatiently and reaching under his boxers for his cock with a ferocity that has Eddie feeling for the walls, hands coming up to brace himself.

“Jesus,” He grunts softly, your grip tightening around the soft, velvet skin, his cock thickening to full hardness under your touch, “—a little warning next time, sweetheart.”

You scoff lightly at that, the deep hum of the music traveling upstairs and under the gap of Steve’s bedroom door—it didn’t help drowning out the sounds of Steve and the girl only a few feet away, but it did help muffle the sounds of Eddie, who couldn’t help his noise level when your mouth finally closes around his cock.

You lick at the tip slowly, right along the slit until Eddie’s reaching for your head, hand squeezing at the root of your hair. Eddie never tried to be soft, or caring—he always was regardless, but he was also just as intense.

“Fuck, take it, baby—“ He pushes a little deeper, forcing you to inhale on the push, moaning against him, “oh, fuck—“

It was easy to wreck Eddie’s ego, watch it come crashing to the ground every time you touched him. You bob your head with his movements, slowly until he’s holding you still, rocking his hips into your mouth with harsh, precise thrusts—fucking your mouth just like he would your pussy, reminding you just how devastating it was that he couldn’t have you right now.

There’s a creak on the bed that has you two pausing your movements, mouth still fully engulfing Eddie’s dick as footsteps approach. Eddie’s thumb pressing at your cheek gently, rubbing in small, comforting circles—almost a way to soothe or ease your worry.

“Hurry.” The girl giggles, followed by Steve’s ruffling through the drawers of the table placed beside the closet.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

And the double entendre of it has both you and Eddie forcing a laugh back down.

When Steve finally retreats a safe distance you feel Eddie rub at your jaw, urging you to continue.

You double down, shifting down to mouth at his balls, the weight heavy against your tongue as you swirl it gently over the skin—Eddie raises his fist in silence, biting down to stifle the filthy groan that almost escapes. It’s the easiest way to fuck with him, knowing how much he liked it—and you don’t stop.

Your hand pumps steadily, stopping to squeeze at the head occasionally, smearing the precum over the head and down, the friction unbearable as you made it your absolute mission to make Eddie come—fast and hard.

It doesn’t take long before he’s grunting softly, yanking gently at your head to pull you away.

“Need somewhere,” Eddie begs, “Steve’ll never forgive me if I use his shirt to clean up my jizz, sweetheart.”

“I don’t know,” You tease, “think it’s kinda hot, actually.”

It would’ve been easier for him to ask to come in your mouth, but that was a little too straightforward—he didn’t do it often, mostly because things would’ve led to sex by now, but it’s still one of his favorite things, your eyes wide and attentive on his face as he cums, thinking he might actually pass out from the feeling of it all.

“Your mouth, baby,” He finally says, voice strained, clearly holding himself back, “god, let me cum in your mouth, please.”

You smile widely, despite how hard it is to make it out in the poor lighting and nod, which he does feel.

You close your mouth over the tip, feeling his hand leave your hair to tug at his dick, jerking himself off with fervor, breathing harshly through his nose.

“I’m gonna come,” He forces out in a hushed tone, giving you the small warning you need to pull back, tongue pressed against the underside of his cock, as he lets out a litany of curses, “fuckfuckfuck—“ in the same deep tone that makes your thighs clench together harder, reminding you how greatly you were lacking his touch.

You flinch when the warmth of it hits your mouth, warm and pooling in the dip of your tongue as Eddie tries his best to suppress his groans, squeezing himself until there’s nothing left, the head of his cock dragging against your lips as he pulls away—your immediate instinct is to swallow, rid yourself of the musky taste and find the best route of escape, but Eddie stops you.

“Come here,” He urges, letting him pull you up, your face tilting in his grip as he closes your mouth with his thumb, rubbing the underside of your chin, “—how does it taste?”

You raise your eyebrows expectantly, gesturing to him before opening your mouth, beckoning him to get a taste—and Eddie’s never shied away from things like this, always willing to try things at least once. So, he does, his tongue dipping into your mouth quickly, the taste of him lingering between you two briefly as you hurried to swallow the rest.

“Dirty,” He repeats his earlier sentiment against your lips, “—fuck, if I didn’t like you so much I would never do shit like that.”

You giggle quietly, reaching up to press a gentle kiss against his lips, “I know.”

And you can say that with full confidence, because it’s true.

“Now, how do we get out of here?”

You shrug, “Don’t know—but, I got something that’ll keep you busy, if you want.”

Eddie was more than eager to please.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #my writing

[flawdchaos]

Pinky Promises

Robert Rosenthal x Reader

Word Count - 1840

- this is a part 2/continuation of Spilled Drinks that was requested by anon.

Ever since the night Y/N had literally ran into Rosie at the bar she couldn’t seem to rid herself of a small smile, no matter what she did. When the girls made it back to their barracks that night, the ambushing of questions went on for well over an hour and even into the next morning.

“You have to talk to him again, Y/N. We both saw the way he looked at you when you were dancing.” Violet declared as she pinned her hair back under the white cap the Red Cross was gracious enough to bless them with. “You know Violet is right, Y/N. He’s already dreaming of a house back in the states and curly headed babies running around.”

“Hazel!” Y/N stopped midway through her dress buttons to lightly smack her friend on the arm, cheeks burning bright red. “I just met the man and for all we know, he doesn’t care and will never speak to me again.” Reaching down to grab her work satchel packed full of supplies.

“Well Y/N if that was the case I don’t believe Mr. Rosenthal would be waiting outside for you, would he?” Violet taunted, Y/N’s head snapping up to meet her friend's gaze. Violet stood peering out the window, fingers holding the blinds open enough to see outside. Hurriedly, Y/N rushed over the window trying her best to not trip over her own feet.

Sure enough there stood Robert Rosenthal - hands shoved in his pockets gaze searching the area around him.

“Go get him, tiger!” Hazel bent forward, laughing.

There truly was not much left in this world that could phase Y/N. She had seen it all in the cruel reality that was war. Men she had grown close to over the span of their visits to the nurses stations would come back battered and broken, some beyond repair - and despite all of what she saw, she was always able to ground herself. She had to. But now, she felt like a young school girl again. Her body was littered with anxiety - sweaty palms, shaking hands, and a racing heart. Why?

All because Robert Rosenthal was standing outside of the nursing barracks.

The squeaking of the barrack front door brought her back down to reality for a moment before the brightness of the sun had her quickly shielding her eyes.

“Rosie, is that you?” she more than obviously knew the answer but she still could not convince herself that it really was him.

“Uh, yeah”, he let out an awkward chuckle “I wanted to stop by this morning and see how things were going. Maybe walk you to the nurses station since I’m heading in that direction.” he was rambling. She stood, head cocked up to him, eyes squinting still from the sun. “I mean, unless, that makes you uh - uncomfortable.”

“I’d love the company. The commute can get a bit lonely.” that same small smile making its way back onto her face. Rosie extended his hand for Y/N to lead the way and with one quick glance back inside she saw her friends staring out at her, smiles plastered on each of their faces.

“What is on your itinerary, today?” Robert finally spoke up.

“The usual. Work until roughly 1900, probably later since there is a mission today and hope to make it back to the barracks in time to do some reading before I get up and do it all again tomorrow.” Y/N paused, kicking a few pebbles along the path before she continued. “How is the day looking for you?”

“Nothing too crazy but I am going up today.” he said nonchalantly, stopping Y/N in her place.

“You’re flying today?” she almost felt like throwing up. Maybe it was selfishness or chosen ignorance but Y/N had grown to hope the war wouldn’t need Robert anymore. She hoped she could protect him from it but all she could do was treat the wounds he would inevitably bring back to her.

“Yeah, debriefing starts at 0730. I’m heading over there once we get you where you need to be.” Her anxiety ridden mind could not help but imagine this was Rosie’s goodbye to her.

Y/N stepped forward to Rosie, grabbing his hands in hers as she looked up to maintain eye contact.

“I know I am just a nurse and you can’t tell me what you're doing up there or where you’re going but you have to pinky promise me you’ll be safe.” Dropping his left hand, she stuck her pinky out expectantly.

“Cross my heart.” he said, as their pinkies connected tightly.

As they continued along their walk, conversation came easily. The pair were still strangers by most accounts and each of them hated it. Y/N wanted to know everything there was to know about Robert Rosenthal and she had made it her plan to figure it out. Stopping outside the nurses station, Rosie removed his hat and began anxiously squeezing it in his hands.

“Be safe up there, fly boy.” Y/N teased, attempting to keep the mood as lightened as she could.

“As long as you do the same down here.” Y/N nodded.

“This mission will be my 20th. I’ve got a two day pass calling my name once my feet hit the ground. Let me treat you to a real introduction and dinner.” Rosie spoke quickly, nerves taking over the brunette.

“I would love that, Mr. Rosenthal.” rising on her tiptoes to plant a quick kiss against his cheek. “You know where I'll be when you get back.” With that, Y/N took a step back and hurried inside to her awaiting duties.

There wasn’t any other time that Y/N had remembered the clock dragging by so slowly. The seconds ticking by was beginning to drive her up the wall and she had to busy herself with random duties. It was while she was restocking the gauze that she heard the all too familiar rumble of the engines overhead. She couldn’t make it to the window to count the returning planes but she hoped, with all her being, every single one of them returned. Hazel’s blonde curls popped around the closet corner, an all too familiar sign that the once quiet med bay was about to pure, unadulterated chaos.

“We’ve got boys already headed our way.” Hazel spoke softly, as if she tried to lessen the blow.

“How bad?” Y/N asked but was only met with a small head shake from the blonde - it was never a good sign.

When Y/N finally saw Robert Rosenthal, he appeared in the med bay doors adorning some cuts and scrapes across his face.

“I told you I would make it back, pretty lady. My leave starts at 0700 sharp. Let’s go to London.”

It was pure luck that her days off coincided with Rosie’s rendezvous and that Helen and Violet were great at covering for their friend. The train ride was where Y/N finally got to the bottom of who Robert Rosenthal truly was. Shortly after taking their seats, Y/N couldn’t help but start to prod.

“Alright, tell me everything Mr. Rosenthal. Give me all the dirty details.”, her cheeks flushed bright red ,”uh- not like that i mean tell me - uh - tell me something no one else knows about you or something.” She could have thrown herself off of the moving train at that point but Rosie just flashed her a smile and started speaking.

“Robert Rosenthal, from Brooklyn, New York. I was working in law before all this mess. I loved it. Graduated top of my class actually. But after Pearl Harbor, I couldn’t keep sitting on my ass while my country needed me so - I enlisted.”

“No secret wife or kids back at home?” Y/N poked.

“No ma’am. It’s just me. And - uh - as far as something no one on this side of the world knows about me - I was the captain for my college’s baseball team. I was trying to be the next DiMaggio.” a small chuckle escaping him as he finished his sentence. “Now what about you?” he asked, softly bumping his shoulder up against the girls.

“Nothing too crazy for me. I always loved helping folks, I was told my whole life I was meant to be a nurse. Once we started fighting this fight I knew I had to volunteer - sorta like you I guess. I’m not dropping bombs or toting a gun but knowing I patch you all up before you get back in the saddle is enough for me.” she sighed, turning up to glance at Rosie.

“And no secret husband out at war or kids back at home?” Rosie mimicked her early question. Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “God no, Robert. Where I’m from I don’t turn heads.” He took a moment to look at her, maintaining eye contact before he took his large hand and grasped over hers before pulling them on to his lap.

“Well Y/N Y/L/N you turned mine - and maybe after we get all this nonsense settled with the bad guys, I can give you a tour of Brooklyn. I know just the place that I’d love to take you dancing.”

“I’m most certainly holding you to it but for now, let’s explore London.” raising her free hand to the platform approaching quickly.

“Yes ma’am. How would you feel about a picnic?”

“That sounds absolutely lovely.”

Rosie stood up as soon as the train hissed to a stop, busying himself with gathering the overnight bags each of them had packed. He stubbornly insisted on carrying both to the hotel around the corner. Y/N knew they would have to enter as colleagues and nothing more, separating as they went to their respective rooms to drop off their bags before meeting again in the hallway.

“Let’s go find sandwiches.” he spoke quietly and Y/N nodded, falling in line behind him as they walked past the lobby and out to the streets. For the first time Y/N really took in the size of the city around her and she couldn’t even help that her jaw was almost to the floor. The Germans had done their share of damage but it didn’t lessen the experience for her at all.

“What is it, Y/N?” Rosie questioned, taking a step towards her.

“I’ve never seen a city like this before. This is just - wow.” Rosie broke out into an ear-to-ear grin. “It is awesome but wait until I take you to Brooklyn. We’ll catch the train to New York City and I’ll make sure you take the ferry to see the Statue of Liberty.”

“You promise?” Y/N broke from her trance to look up as Rosie smiled and turned to her fully, sticking out her left hand.

“I pinky promise.” he said, watching as Y/N connected their hands tightly. “You better believe it. I haven’t broken a promise yet.”

AUTHORS NOTE - hi friends, i hope everyone enjoyed this little part two to spilled drinks. there may be a part 3 to this little series if it’s wanted. please feel free to give me feedback or more requests as my inbox as open. i’m still new to this so i appreciate anything :)

#masters of the air #masters of the air imagines #masters of the air x reader #john egan #gale cleven #rosie rosenthal imagines #rosie rosenthal x reader #rosie rosenthal #robert rosenthal #robert rosenthal imagine #bucky egan x reader #buck cleven x reader #john egan imagine #gale cleven imagine

[byhees]

attractive things that he does.

엔하이픈 성훈 ・ female reader + word count 400 genre fluff established relationship warnings not proof-read kissing skinship — more

a/n. blank

is a really observant person; whenever he spots you bending down to pick something up, he’d cover the sharp edges of counters and tables with the palm of his hand. he’d play it off so smoothly too, casually shoving his hand back into the pocket of his pants, eyes shifting to the surrounding space.

when he (lightly) flexes his arm muscles; at some point, you’re unsure if he’s doing it on purpose, or if it’s the nature of a habit. he’d quickly steal a glance over at your direction whenever he hears even the slightest of a reaction.

when you’re standing in front of his path, he’d softly press his fingers to your waist, lightly moving you to the side; would flash a small smile your way, his little “excuse me, darling,” laced and coated with sweetness.

when he comes up with new nicknames for you, and softly calls you over with them. he’d probably look over at you, wanting to see your reaction each time; has this tiny grin tugging at the corners of his lips whenever he does this.

when he leans against tall surfaces, arms crossed over his chest, body weight pressing onto said surface; even while doing so, he towers over you.

when he hooks a finger under your chin, and lifts it up to make eye contact with you.

alternatively, when he leans forward a tad, arm being supported by a surface beside him; does so to hear you better, or to simply get a better look at your pretty face.

when he lightly pinches your cheeks, adoration spilling from his eyes. additionally, when he cheekily pokes your cheek, finding you so incredibly cute.

when he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. he’d be so romantic about it too, leaving a peck on your forehead afterwards.

when he listens to you ramble about your day, and his fingers lightly caress the contours of your hand, providing a form of comfort and support.

when he engulfs you in back hugs, arms wrapped around your waist; there’s a whole butterfly garden in your stomach whenever he rests his chin on your shoulder, or when he leaves a quick peck on the nape of your neck.

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @crxzs @g4m3girl @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

#૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა ? #kflixnet #enhanet #k labels #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #enhypen reactions #enhypen headcanons #enhypen soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts #enha fluff #enha scenarios #enha imagines #enha drabble #enha reactions #enha headcanons #enha soft thoughts #enha soft hours #enhypen oneshots #enha oneshots #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon drabbles #sunghoon oneshots #sunghoon reactions #sunghoon headcanons #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon soft hours

[ncteez]

friends don’t fuck (l.s.m)

Your best friend of several years says that he can share a bed without being weird. Well, he’s a fucking liar. 

or the one where neither of you sees any harm in fucking just to see what it’s like. 

ao3 | minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog, i will kiss your forehead so fucking fast if you do. 

WORDCOUNT― 3.7k

PAIRING― seokmin x afab reader

CONTENT― first time with big boy bestie, crackish, fluffish, mostly just smut 

NOTE― im just in love with him bro. i know that i’m typically more known for writing plot and/or really detailed smut scenes with a bigger word count but i’m having fun relaxing and writing these little fics in my free time (ㅅ´ ˘ `) , which means this is not proof read.

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― soft top seokmin, he gets a little lost in the sauce, BIG DICK BESTFRIEND, seokmin loves boobs, unprotected sex, cream pie, lil tiny bit of finger action 

~

           The couch is uncomfortable. That’s his excuse.

 “Well, you haven’t complained once in the years you’ve been crashing at my place.” You argue, sizing up your taller best friend who just so happens to already be tucked into your bed and spread-eagling it. 

 “I’m complaining now, though,” Seokmin yawns, stretching his arms and legs out even further as if to kick you onto the couch, “c’mon, I won’t be weird about it.”

          You size him up once again. Never did you make him sleep on the couch because you thought he would be weird about it, usually it was just because the bitch is a blanket thief.

 “Fine,” you relent, sliding yourself onto the bed and using your entire body to shove him over to make room for yourself, “the least you can do is make room for me.”

             He chuckles, deciding to stop being annoying and scooting over for you, and then casually rolling over so that his back is facing you, implying he’s actually going to sleep.

             So, there the two of you are. Not at all awkward, because you’ve been in worse situations with him that were a bit overwhelming (like that time he spilled his drink on you and mocked you for looking like you pissed yourself in the middle of a food court), this is nothing. It’s actually kind of weird that the two of you have never shared a bed considering the sheer amount of time you spend crashing in each other’s space. Guess it just never came up, guess neither of you cared too much about it. 

             It’s silent for a good thirty minutes save for the almost-muted Netflix show playing on the tv and your eyes are feeling ridiculously heavy. You can feel that heavy-sleep fuzz consume your body before you’re jolted out of it by none other than the fucking man himself.

 “Are you still awake?” your best friend whispers as he shifts on your bed, presumably turning to face you.

 “Trying not to be,” you mutter out in annoyance, staying on your back but turning your head to look at him with drooping eyes, “why, is the bed also too uncomfortable for your highness?” 

             He smiles and shakes his head, his eyes zoning in on your face and studying it.

 “I’ve been thinking about something.”

 “Well, can you stop so I can sleep?” You argue, not actually annoyed but just very tired. 

 “How do you feel about like–” he ignores you and pauses mid-sentence, which brings you to a place of curiosity. 

 “How do I feel about what, Seokmin?” You grouch, this time turning fully to face him.

             You take a minute to admire him, despite seeing him multiple times a week. He looks nice when he’s tired, and you’ve told him a thousand times how handsome he is. You really don’t think he gets it though, like, look at him. His sharp features always fall into softness when he’s just finished yawning, and his eyes always flutter differently when he’s sleepy. It’s not like you’re into him that way though, you just know how to appreciate an attractive person, regardless of if he’s your best friend and in your bed. 

 “I don’t know, me and Seungcheol were talking about how we lost our virginities and–” 

 “Why?” You snort, imagining that they probably were just rambling at each other for that topic to be brought up. 

 “That doesn’t matter,” he groans, waving you off and continuing his point, “anyway, he mentioned that he lost his to his best friend and I was like, woah,” he looks at you, watching for a reaction, “like, wouldn’t it be just so weird to have sex with a best friend?”

             You raise a brow at him and narrow your eyes.

 “I mean, to some I guess it’s weird, depends on the person?” 

 “Okay, but I’m asking you.” He prods, trying not to be obvious but ultimately failing. 

 “Nah, I think people can do those kinds of things if they both know how to navigate the situation,” you start, looking away from him because for the first time ever, you think he might be implying something. “I’ve never tried it though.”

             He deadpans at you before running a hand through his hair. 

 “So, you’re saying you could fuck a best friend?” 

 “Seokmin, you’re my best friend.”

             Then he’s silent.

 “I know.”

 ~

             You’re avoiding the fact that you’re shocked by his sudden sexual interest in you. This is the last thing you imagined you’d be doing on a regular Tuesday night sleepover with your best friend. Like, who even goes out of their way to ask for a major change in friendship dynamics on a fucking Tuesday!? 

             It’s kind of flooring, actually, enough to push you out of your sleepy daze and into a different sort of mood. The man who usually keeps you grounded is now somehow making you feel entirely off balance and dizzy at the very idea. You mentioned that friends can definitely fuck if they know how to navigate the situation. Now it’s like, do you know how to do that? Are you a person who can navigate this type of thing? Can you really just accept his offer simply out of curiosity? 

             Clearly, being friends with Seokmin has some downsides, and those downsides are usually fighting the yearly urge to pretend his face wasn’t the star of one of your rare wet dreams. That was completely unintentional! Another one of those downsides might be the occasional stray idea of what’s in his pants. That’s totally natural though! Your friendship with him is strictly platonic albeit occasionally full of sexual curiosity. 

 “What if we just pretend to not be best friends for ten minutes?” Seokmin offers through the past thirty minutes of silence in the room. 

 “Seokmin,” you start, feeling anxious because if he asks one more time you might just take him up on the offer, “if you keep talking we won’t be best friends for any minutes.” 

             You can hear that all-too-familiar chuckle from him, the one that’s deep and mischievous. 

 “You act like I didn’t see the way you looked at me today when I got out of the shower.”

 “And in what way did I look at you?” You feel a little called out simply because you didn’t even realize you were checking him out. 

 “Correct me if I’m wrong but–” Seokmin crowds up behind you considering you rolled away from him not too long ago, “you kind of seemed like you wanted to be under me.”

             Never has he ever spoken to you like this. Sure, there’s a sexual joke here or there. Maybe even a playful ass slap and a fake moan, but this? This felt a little too real, and a little too inviting. 

 “Wrong,” you argue as a last-ditch effort to save yourself from whatever it is that you’d definitely prefer to happen right now. 

 “Oh yeah? Is that why you keep rubbing your ass against me?”

             Goddammit. You were doing that, weren’t you? It’s his fault for crowding up behind you, all you were doing was– never mind that. The issue at hand here is you trying to pretend you’re not curious enough to absolutely fuck him. The even bigger issue is figuring out how this is gonna work, and if it’ll be worth it. 

             You pull your ass away for a moment, mostly to decide on what to do without feeling his–uh…thing against you. He shocks you though, by placing his hand around your waist and not really letting you. He knows you’re into it, there’s no way he doesn’t. Your best friend, the big bimbo man who also happens to go by another name of Seokmin, would never do something like this if he wasn’t already aware of how stubborn you are. Just this afternoon you eyeballed his snack and refused to admit that you wanted a bite until he basically force fed you. You’re stubborn, but he knows that you set boundaries seriously when he’s got the wrong idea. 

             God, you’re so in your head about this right now. Especially with him crowded up behind you, hands on your waist, his lips dangerously close to the shell of your ear. 

 “Okay,” you admit, defeated as you intentionally press yourself against him this time. “ten minutes,”

 “Yeah?” He sighs out, and yeah, you were right– he’s like right there. 

 “If you make this weird, I’m never talking to you again.” You attempt to argue, but there's a feeling in your gut that overpowers any type of anxiety right now. Maybe it’s because his hands don’t stray from your waist, and they stay gentle, or maybe it’s because his lips are immediately against your neck and he’s pressing his length against you. 

             Oh so you’re really doing this now? This is how he starts off when he wants to fuck someone? Your best friend likes to kiss and lick and suck against the neck of his interest while also letting them feel his size? Damn, okay. You’re trying to hold it together, honestly. The nearly muted netflix show that’s playing sounds as if it has no sound at all by this point because you’re entirely focused on the fact that this is the reality and you’re about to fuck your best friend for shits and giggles. You’re seeing him in a brand new light, and goddamn does it look beautiful on him. 

 “You know…” Seokmin whispers against the back of your neck as he plants a kiss there, his fingers running from your waist to your stomach and fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “I’ve never seen you without clothes on before,”

             He’s right. 

 “We agreed on ten minutes,” you say, still being a bit stubborn but also encouraging him to take your shirt off– or his pants, or anything else for that matter, “you’re taking your sweet time.”

             You can feel his lips against you turning into a smile and just as you go to try and make another snide comment, you’re grabbed by him and rolled over onto your back. He’s so quick with it, and seeing him now after already feeling his body against yours, he doesn’t look like your best friend. He looks like someone you desperately want to make feel good.

 “Up.” He instructs, lifting your shirt until it’s caught under your arms. You do as he asked, of course, and then lay back down feeling kind of shy about the fact that he’s blatantly staring at your chest and–oh.

 “God,” he groans, dipping down and nuzzling his face against them, “I knew they’d be pretty.”

             There’s that heat spreading across your cheeks. You’re blushing and feeling goosebumps run all across your skin and it’s making you feel kind of small but also kind of adored.

 “Ten minutes,” you remind him with a coo, cupping your hand on the back of his head as he continues to nuzzle and kiss against your tits, “get our pants off before you lose sight of the goal–”

             He pulls up, looking at you with a raised brow and a slack jaw. Then he narrows his eyes.

 “You’re really only gonna let me go for ten minutes?”

             Of course not. 

 “Ten minutes, firm. Unless you change my mind.”

             Ah, he does love a challenge, that’s true. Only this time you see this challenge as something more than a drinking contest or who can get the most kills in a video game. You swear he’s moving faster than he ever has before, navigating his big body and pulling himself back. He doesn’t even ask before he slips your pajama pants off of you, followed by his own. 

             You look down at him, now wanting your own curiosity to be satiated, but he’s still moving fast and leans down to your face, blocking your view.

 “Now, hold on–” you argue, shoving his face away and lifting your head a bit to see between his legs, “you can’t just whip it out and not let me see it.”

             He chuckles, because that’s fair. He pulls himself back, sitting on his knees between your legs and proudly presents his length to you. You stare, and then he stares. Both of you, stuck in a loop of taking in the other’s body and what there is to offer in terms of pleasure once you both have your fill of visuals. 

             His eyes go from your tits to your belly and then stop directly between your legs, and it’s like he wants to pray to the heavens for you wanting to do this because damn you look good. He wonders if you’re wet, or if you’re as excited as he is to be doing this with you.

             Then there’s you, eyes scanning his length and internally trying to measure the circumference of his thickness. He had a huge cock this whole time and didn’t even offer to let you see it before now? What an awful best friend, he should be ashamed for withholding such information about himself from you.

 “Hey, um–” you swallow around nothing, probably because your throat is trying to prepare itself for him. “not to be weird or anything but like, when did you get so fucking hot?”

             He smiles, giving you a breathy laugh before finally tearing his eyes away from your folds.

 “Why? Am I turning you on?” 

             You roll your eyes at that, leaning forward and grabbing his hand. He falls forward a bit with an excited breath and then immediately sighs out when he realizes that you place his fingers directly on your clit. 

             What you were gonna say was that he can see for himself if you’re turned on, instead, the second he felt it against his fingers, he slid them down and started exploring with a gentle groan. 

 “Good,” he compliments you, continuing to run his fingers through your folds, “can I kiss you too, or is that off limits?”

             You look at him like he’s an idiot, but he knows what that means.

             It’s silent when he does it. His lips laid against yours and feeling so plush and warm that all you can do is lick them until he lets you in. He does, and it’s really fucked up that he also hid the fact that he definitely knows how to kiss a woman from you too. From feeling his fingers teasing your entrance to feeling his tongue teasing your own– you feel elated that you’re getting this from him.

             The kiss lasts much longer than his fingers do between your legs. You felt the absence of them for a split second before feeling him slide his length against you and essentially coat his cock in your arousal. He’s thick, long, and incredibly hard against you. 

             You let out a strangled sort of groan feeling it, and you shocked yourself at the sound. Never have you been so excited to feel someone rubbing their length between your lips. He kisses you harder when you make the sound, and you can feel his hips press into you with more pressure. For a second, you thought about it. You thought about doing this for hours, days, weeks with him. Unfortunately though, you both have shit to do and it upsets you a bit too much right now. 

             You whine against his lips, bringing your hand up and pushing his messy hair out of his face to prevent it from tickling your own. That same hand drags through his hair, down his back, and then between the two of you. 

             His body jolts when you grab him, and he pulls back from the kiss with a dazed smile and looks down at your hand around him.

 “Do you want it now?” He asks, shaking his head at the situation, feeling like he’s on top of the world. Technically, he kind of is, because you’re kind of his whole world right now. 

             You smile back mischievously, lifting your hips a bit and guiding his length down. You’re incredibly prepared to feel him, to see him, and to know what it’s like for other’s when your best friend fucks them. Why shouldn’t you know, anyway?

             He nods to you, leaning his head down to your chest and attaching his lips around one of your nipples as he attempts and fails to find the hole the first time. You help him with a laugh though, guiding him a bit more until both of you release a sigh at the feeling of his head stretching you open.

             He now loses the ability to suckle on your nipple and instead drops his head to the side and treats your tits like a personal pillow as he focuses solely on the slide inside of you. He wants you to feel every inch of him, and jesus christ does he want to make sure he feels every inch of you.

             Taking his sweet time, he shallowly thrusts into you slowly until the last thrust, where he plants himself between your legs and wiggles his hips against you just to get a snug fit inside of you. You think he might be deeper than anyone has ever gone before, and instantly you’re gripping him into a hug as he waits patiently for you to adjust. 

             He’s silent for a bit, squeezing his eyes shut and reaching a hand down to guide your legs around his waist, and he only releases his own moan when he stops holding his breath. You do as he encourages, wrapping your legs around him and waiting for him to show you what he’s made of. 

 “You can move–” you say in a small voice, releasing him from your hug and brushing his hair out of his face once more as he raises his cheek from your chest. 

             He listens well, pulling his hips back and slowly sliding into you again. You can see his face right now and it’s different from anything you’ve ever seen before. He’s being passionate and it’s fucking insane to see him like this. 

 “You’re really hot, did you know that?” You compliment him, clenching around him and watching his breath hitch at it. 

             What you’re not aware of though, is how in his head he is about you right now. You’re so fucking wet for him and it’s driving him up a fucking wall. The drag of his cock against your walls is sending intense shocks throughout his entire body, and honestly, hearing your voice on top of it all compliment him makes him want to hate himself for never bringing this up to you before. 

             He doesn’t respond, and his pupils continue to grow as he looks at you with each thrust. He’s lost in the thought of getting to be inside of you specifically.

             And when he finds a rhythm, one that’s equally as hard as it is deep, you can’t even muster words for him. You’re breathless, moaning as his stupid necklace dangles against your face when he moves his hands to either side of your head to support himself. 

             You can’t really look away from him though. He’s never been this quiet before and he’s never looked this insanely hot before– you decide to stop thinking so hard, throwing your arms up and around his neck to pull him down into a kiss. His thrusts become slower at that point but still insanely deep. 

 “You’re going to make me come if you–” you whisper against his lips but get cut off, sighing with a slight moan as he presses harder into you.

             You don’t even think he’s listening, because now he’s talking. His voice is insanely deep and raspy when he does it.

 “You’re going to come on me?” He says, completely lost in his lust, probably attempting to say whatever is on his mind, “gonna come all over me?”

             Well, when he puts it that way. Hell yeah.

             You shoot your hand between the two of you and it’s like, three rubs of your clit and you’re already shaking. 

 “That’s it babe, squeeze me,” he chokes out, feeling your other hand scratch against his back and against his neck. 

             He watches your face as you release around him, studying the way you close your eyes and moan out for him. He thinks it might be the hottest thing you’ve ever done, come on his cock, you know? 

 “Jesus,” he chokes out this time, feeling you still squeezing around him as your legs start to shake, “okay, fuck, hold on–” he adds, now putting more power into his thrusts and chasing a high that’s close enough already.

             Good thing your best friend knows you’re on birth control, considering he’s the one who has to remind you to take it half of the time. 

             When he reaches his own orgasm, you’re just coming out of yours. You can feel his relentless hips stutter as he reaches it, and you watch the way he holds his breath through it. He’s literally not breathing when it happens and all you can do is, similar to him, fucking watch.

             You can feel his load pumping into you, and when he finally releases his breath, his groan is breathy and guttural before he practically flops down onto you and tries to regain his breath.

 ~

 “Ugh,” he groans out, refusing to remove his limp limbs from caging you in, “why was that so hot?”

             You’re taken aback by that for some reason.

 “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” You grouch, shoving him off of you and wincing at the way he slides out of you at the same time. 

 “I mean, like, how am I supposed to not want to do this again?” He laughs through his own wince, knowing full well that his cum is probably seeping out of you in heaps. 

 “Who says you’re not supposed to?” You look away from him, unprepared for conversation immediately after orgasm, but also slightly relieved that he’s back to his talkative self. 

 “Oh?” He smiles, pulling himself up from your bed and wiggling his brows at you, “So, now we are best friends that fuck?”

             You shrug, looking up and down his body.

 “Yeah, if you don’t make it weird.”

 ~

#seokmin smut #dokyeom smut #dk smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #lee seokmin smut

[romanticgremlin]

Wants And Needs.

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

Summary: Sebastian discovers your choice of reading material is rather lewd and proposes a proposition.

BE AWARE: NSFW, ALL CHARATCTERS ARE 18+

This will be a 5-6 part FWB to lovers fic. Pining, oral s*x, first time, Sebastian is a switch and so is MC, slight breeding kink, many more.

I already have most of it written I just need to edit it.

The mottled stone of the courtyard widow you sit on leaves small imprintations on the skin on your legs as you sit reading the latest book you've managed to snag last time you were in the restricted section.

Recently, you have successfully figured out a way to read your explicit reading material in public by spooning the smaller book inside a slightly larger book to give the appearance that you're reading a potions textbook. You check the time and go back to your reading.

An hour goes by before you hear footsteps approach me and your eyes wander up to see Sebastian leaning against the stone some two feet ahead of me. You can’t help but internally fawn over him and his bare forearms, veins skirt from his dexterous looking hands, up dissappearing under the rolled up shirt sleeves. He’s filled out since last year, taller and broader than he used to be. seemingly outgrown wearing his robes all the time like he did in their fifth year, opting for the white button down and that bloody green tie that had been in too many of your dreams lately. A warm churning In your lower belly makes her breath hitch as he lazily smirks at me, his eyes zero in on the potions textbook.

“How was brewing liquid luck this afternoon.” he says with a playful smile, taking a step towards you.

“Fine.” you says, tensing slightly. If he moved any closer, there would be nothing stopping him from seeing the raunchy book you were currently devouring.

“Do you think I've never never hidden a book in another book before?” he says with a slight chuckle, uncrossing his arms and reaching over to pluck the book from inside the red potions textbook before you can stop him.

“Hey!” you squeak out in horror as his fingers deftly skim through the book, reading pages here and there, his mouth falling open, along with a slight raise of his thick eyebrows.

His eyebrows raise, and he looks back at you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"What is this, It's a little raunchy..." *He chuckles as he continues to read through the book.…Did you steal this from the restricted section?” he asks, his eyes still roving the words every 20 or so pages.

Is that a faint blush on his cheeks as well?

He flips the book over to glance at the cover before finally looking back at you.

"Go ahead, make fun of me." You say trying to grab the book back. Your cheeks are wildly red.

Sebastian chuckles again, flipping through the pages. The more he reads the more apparent the blushes is that's spreading over his cheeks.

"This is like.. really raunchy. Oh, wow!" He says as he continues reading, deftly avoiding your attempts to retrieve the book.

He continues to read, his eyes skimming down the pages as he looks through your book.

"I was just-..." you start to say something and quickly realize you may shove your more in your mouth than it already was if you keep rambling without thinking.

Sebastian chuckles once again, tapping you on the back and turning the pages a little bit to the next chapter.

"Just what?" He queries with a mock innocent tone.

He turns the pages slower and then to your horror, starts to read it aloud, grinning wildly.

“Their lips battled for dominance as he slid his hand up her thigh. “I need You inside me, Geoff!” He reads mockingly.

"Oh my god." You says in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands and he chuckles a bit before glancing at you once more, the wild grin drops from his face into a more serious one and his eyes seems to darken as if he's had a sudden thought.

"I must admit, this stuff is pretty stirring." Sebastian says in a lower voice, his cheeks are a blazing bright red.

Suddenly you are wishing you had something to drink as he takes a step towards you. The tow of you are in a lower deserted area of the courtyard and there's no one else around as his eyes drag over your face as if trying to gauge your reaction.

"This actually seems kinda... fun, you know." He says taking another step towards you. He's so close you can smell him, like sundried laundry, coffee and a small hint of the cologne he usually wears, mostly worn off now that the sun was beginning to dip behind the hills.

It was intoxicating and entirely to blame for the loss of your normal brain function as he leaned a forearm against the wall slightly over your head.

"How do you mean?" You asks, your brows furrowed as you watch him set the book down on the stone.

Sebastian shrugs slightly.

"Haven't you ever been curious about this stuff?" He says, his face reddens more.

"Wanted to try anything, see if it feels as good as they make it out to be?" His voice is low and surprisingly vulnerable sounding.

"I suppose I have..." you trail off, finally unable to bear his gaze any longer and angle your eyes at a crack in the stone on the ground.

"You know...we could..try some of it. If you wanted..." He trails off, his hand reached up to ghost over your lips before gently angling your chin back to look at him.

your entire body is hot at the thought. "With you?" You ask.

"I mean, we're close, right? Best friends." His eyebrows raise as he continues to look at you.

You nod, your throat is feeling drier than ever.

This was not a good idea.

This was not a good idea.

Your deeply buried feelings for the Slytherin were making a reappearance and your lips were not listening to your brain.

His smiles softly at you, it's important to note that this is a smile and not a grin.

Sebastian Sallow grins much much more than he smiles. You've learned this over the course of your time knowing each other and have been graced with several of his smiles.

“Yes?..." *He asks. The muscles of his chest brush lightly against the swell of your breasts and the feeling shoots like and electrical charge right down to the spot between your legs. "We could start right now...if you'd like." He murmurs against your cheek as his frame hunches slightly to reach his large hand down to the hem of your dress before sliding it up your thigh, using the clip of your stocking to hook your leg higher on him.

"Yes." You say trying to make your response sound a little bit more dignified that the strangled whimper that tries to fall from your lips.

His lips are on yours before you can register anything else and you unconsciously grind your hips against his causing a delicious groan to reverberate from his throat.

"We could try everything in this book." He murmurs against your lips. "But first, I want to try something I've heard about."

PART 2

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy art #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy ominis #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #ominis gaunt #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts legacy screenshots #hogwarts houses #sebastian sallow fanfic #seb #sebastian sallow x mc #slytherin #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow fanart #hogwarts legacy fanart #fanfic

[nottheeconomy]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN AND NO I’M NOT LATE SHUT UP!!!

But yes happy late Halloween hahahaha

They’re having a nice ghostly tea party!

(Brainrot under the button, come on, click it, you know you want to 👁️👁️👁️)

I’m shoving my vision of Ouma and Korekiyo being ghost type gym leaders into your mouths

Listen they’re perfect as ghost type gym leaders

Korekiyo is your typical Asian horror movie level spirit medium that fills his gym full of creepy dolls and seesaw boards while Ouma is the creepy clown type of gym leader that fills his gym with cracked funhouse mirrors and it’s essentially a abandoned carnival style haunted house

Korekiyo was the previous ghost type gym leader that retired to pursue travelling for anthropology studies and he chose some smelly clown gremlin off the street as his replacement hahahahahahha

Yes I used the art to bait you to read this far for my AU and no I’m not letting my hostages go

*slaps on AU Ouma design drafts*

Ouma’s main partner is Sableye and Korekiyo’s main partner is Banette and Yamask

*slaps on another AU draft design*

I have a whole google doc on this silly pokeronpa AU

So I *will* be posting more

I err spent way too much time thinking about this and if not for @lightbulb-warning (thank you so much for listening to my ramblings you’re way too sweet) I would’ve been rambling this to the white walls

That is to say!

Err

I’m very normal about them yes :)

Close ups!

#Danganronpa #drv3 #kokichi ouma #korekiyo shinguji #the economy is producing #pokeronpaV3 AU #pokemon #I definitely got carried away and added so many details on the tea table hahahaha #Banette in Korekiyo’s lap and Sableye backseating Ouma as all things in the world should be #if anyone wants to talk pokeronpa or really DRV3 in general you know #the interrogate button is just right there 👁️ #for anyone that actually read beneath the page break i can be normal about things I promise #but maybe not about this hahahahaha

[steviewashere]

Love, Rest Your Head

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Canon Typical Injuries Tags: Pre-Season 4, Aftermath of Starcourt Mall, Aftermath of Torture, Season 4, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Steve Harrington, Major Character Injury, Established Relationship, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Head Trauma, Mentions of Vomiting, Self Sacrificing Steve Harrington, Mentions of Major Character Death (In Reference to Hopper), Foreshadowing, Ambiguous Ending

💕—————💕 The news was pure devastation. Overhead shots of the Starcourt Mall burning. Flames engulfing the building on all sides, swallowing it up until it sat a collapsed, ashen mess. There was no structure. No semblance to any kind of store that was inside. Just dust. Blackened walls. Melted floor tiles.

Eddie sat on the edge of the couch cushion, left hand tucked harshly under his thigh, chomping down on his right hand’s fingernails. There was a metallic tang on his tongue, but he couldn’t get himself to stop. Not even when the raw, exposed parts of his skin bared themself as a tender ache in his mouth’s warmth. Nothing could stop him. In between bites, there were moments where he was holding his breath. Gasping for it when push eventually came to shove. At least it was air he was choking on, not bile.

His uncle was stoic in his recliner in the corner. Until, with the quietest and gruffest voice Eddie’s ever heard, Wayne said, “Your boy. He’s in the parking lot. Has to be.”

“What if he isn’t?” Eddie barely mustered. “What if—What if he’s not there in the parking lot with all those ambulances? What if Steve’s stuck in the debris and he can’t get out and nobody can hear him and then he doesn’t come home and I never—“ He was back to choking on his breath. Sipping at the smallest pockets of air he could manage.

Wayne didn’t answer. The promises that could be made in this moment, every single one of them could be a fallacy.

Then, the news reporter read out those who suffered in the fire. That crisped with the building. Ones that couldn’t be recovered. Ones that were found, yet only identifiable by the licenses in their pockets.

Jenna Kinling Parker Smith Tony Roberts Billy Hargrove…

Eddie bit his fingers harder at that last name. Maybe they didn’t run in the same circles or maybe they weren’t friends. But Billy was still a young dude. He had a life ahead of him. They had classes together. What if…What if…What if, rings loudly in Eddie’s head.

Except, Steve isn’t listed. Neither is his new friend, Robin. They aren’t…They weren’t found in the rubble. They weren’t believed to be in it either. And, as if on cue, the trailer’s phone begins to ring. Eddie is up and out of his seat before he has a chance to miss a single ring.

“Munson residence, Eddie speaking,” he answers hastily.

On the other end is the wet, nasally, raspy breathing of another person. The deeper the breaths, the more he can make out it’s somebody masculine. Their intakes are interrupted by small sniffles. Short bursting whimpers that come from sure pain, not pleasure.

“Hello?” Eddie speaks quietly.

The person gasps. Sobbing around the words, “Eddie…Eddie, I need help.” Steve.

“I’ll help, sweetheart,” he promises immediately. “What do you need? I—Uncle Wayne is here, too. We can help. We can—“

“‘M at the mall. And it’s all charred and…and gone. And I think I—I left your birthday present in Scoops and I’m sorry that I—My head hurts, Eds. It hurts and I’m bleeding and the paramed—they think…Billy’s dead and I watched him die and it scared me and—I don’t like him, I don’t like him at all but he looked sad and he looked…He’s dead, Eddie. I watched somebody die, Eddie,” Steve rambles. His words are heavily slurred. Barely breaking by his breath. Almost swirled by puke. 

Before Eddie has the chance to interrupt, Steve is continuing. “I protected Robin from getting hurt,” he says seriously, gravely. But his next words are tiny, as if Eddie was listening to a child, not his eighteen year old boyfriend. “You’re going to be mad at me.”

“Why?” He asks. Shakes his head though, and asks instead, “Where should I pick you up? Does Robin have a ride home?”

“I got beat up again,” Steve barrels on. “’T’s really bad, Eds. Everything is ringing. Makin’ me nauseous.” His breaths grow heavier as if he’s ready to retch on his sneakers.

Eddie prepares himself to hear it all, because he knows it’ll happen. Knows it like the back of his hand, unfortunately. From how many other times Steve’s been concussed. Yet, he doesn’t care, saying, “I’ll take care of you here at home, but I need you to tell me where I need to pick you up. Does Robin need a ride?”

Steve mumbles, “She already left. Hugged her and everythin’. Rob—Robin’s safe. I protected her from getting hurt. They were going to hurt her, Eds. It would’ve been my fault for getting her involved.”

The words crawl under Eddie’s skin like spiders. He wants to scratch at himself, get them out of his head. Get away from how small each word is that comes from Steve’s mouth. He wants to find out who ‘They’ are and kill them. Wants to rip this world apart for making Steve sound so…horrified. But he just calmly asks, “Where are you, Steve? Where at the mall are you?”

“Front,” Steve mutters, “at the payphone. The one with all the gum on the back. It’s gross, Eds. I feel gross. Smell like—I’m sorry.”

Eddie just swallows harshly. Doesn’t know why Steve’s apologizing. But he’s scared shitless, that’s for sure. He grabs for his car keys on the dining table. “I’m going to hang up, Stevie. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

The last thing he hears is Steve coughing and retching up his lungs. Spiders work their way into his veins.

——— Sure enough, Steve’s by the payphone. Sitting with his knees up to his chest. Leaning against the thin pole of the phone. Inches away from whatever lunch he had last. Doesn’t look like much. Eddie just thought Steve was busy with work and relaxing at home. Though…Eddie’s starting to piece together that maybe Steve never left work. Like he’s been here way too long.

Steve shivers where he grasps to himself and Eddie approaches with great caution.

He crouches down to Steve’s level, keeps his hands to himself, and speaks softly. “Steve, it’s Eddie. I brought you a jacket. And some water. I’ve got crackers. You ready to go home?”

With his one good eye, Steve looks to him. Blood caked around his nose and mouth and chin. Eyebrow split, though covered with a butterfly bandage. His left eye is swollen shut and a deep, concerning purple. A part of Eddie almost wants to ask who left Steve here like this. To sit by himself and hold to his elbows. But, a stronger part of him cares too much about making sure Steve gets home.

Slowly, Steve reaches out his right hand and grasps at Eddie’s left wrist. Thumb harsh over his pulse point. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. Without any fanfare or warning, Steve’s eyes fill with tears. Streaming down his face in sluggish lines. “I was stupid and got in trouble again and now I’m all…I’m all broken and ugly and I smell really bad and you’re gonna have to stay awake with me because I’m not allowed to sleep and I—“

“Baby,” Eddie whispers lowly, “Steve, I’m just glad that you’re alive. I’d rather look after you all beaten up and bloody than…Well, y’know.”

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” Steve meekly asks.

“Do you want me to be mad at you?”

With great force, Steve shakes his head. Hissing and hiccuping at the pain that surges through him. “It hurts so bad,” he whimpers. “I just—They were going to hurt Robin and—and the kids. I couldn’t let them do that and now I—“

Eddie gently shushes him. “You don’t need to explain yourself right now, okay, sweetheart? We’ll talk about it when you’re better.”

“What if I never talk about it?”

He shrugs. Wraps his free hand over Steve’s where it still grips him. “Then you don’t talk about it,” he whispers. “Let me take you home, though? Give you the food and water I brought. Warm you up and change your clothes. Can clean your face,” Eddie lists. He cups the injured side of Steve’s face with a tentative hand, barely touching his swollen skin. “Clean this all up and brush your hair. Let you sleep.”

“I can’t sleep for long,” Steve reminds him.

“Wake you up every few hours, that’s fine. I don’t have school tomorrow, we’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“‘M’kay,” Steve agrees quietly. He’s drooping in Eddie’s hold. Exhaustion quickly swamping him. “Sorry if I throw up in the car.”

Eddie gently hefts them up off the ground, leads them towards the van, and gets Steve situated in his passenger seat. He murmurs, as he buckles Steve in, “I can clean up. But I’ll leave the window rolled down. I’ll drive slow. Do you want the jacket?”

Steve shakes his head softly. His eyes are closed and the rest of him is very still to his seat. As if moving anything physically pains him. It probably does, based on what Eddie’s able to see. “I don’t want to be reminded of the heat,” he state quietly.

“Okay,” Eddie whispers. He leans up into Steve’s space, presses a short kiss to his temple, and cranks the passenger window down. “Just lean towards the window a little. Rest. I’ve got you, baby.”

The car ride is incredibly slow, it makes Eddie antsy. But out of the corner of his eye, he notices Steve tensing at every gradual rumble and deep pothole. It makes Eddie want to just get out and push the van. He slides a hand off of the steering wheel and goes to grab Steve’s left wrist, but he jolts away. Head colliding solidly with the window frame.

“Don’t,” Steve bites. “Don’t touch me there,” he whispers.

Eddie swallows down the sudden rise of bile in his throat. “Okay, Steve,” he murmurs right back. “Do you…you need me to pull off for a second? Give you a break from the bumpy road?” Steve gives a slow and tentative nod.

He pulls to the shoulder, parks in silence, and just sits in the driver’s seat. Face forward, eyeing beyond the windshield. He’d turn on the radio, try to fill the gap between their bodies, but knows that the noise would be too much. Instead, he listens in on Steve’s audible deep breaths. Like he’s trying to ground himself to the carseat or maybe veer away from puking out the window. Eddie wants to touch and soothe, like he normally would during Steve’s concussions. But…he can’t. There are tears percolating in the corners of his eyes.

“You need water?” Eddie quietly asks.

“Please,” Steve mutters lowly. His voice is crackling and snotty wet.

Eddie moves slowly between the front seats, grabs an unopened bottle of water, and uncaps it. He leans across the center console to find a straw in the glove box. Plops it in the bottle and offers it up for Steve to take. “Slow sips,” Eddie states, “don’t need to make yourself sicker.” Steve angles his body away from the window, leans forward slightly, and takes the straw between his lips. Each swallow of water looks like he’s trying to consume rocks. His tongue working slowly, hesitantly against the straw. Testing it. “You’re doing a good job,” Eddie can only praise.

When Steve pops off the straw, it’s with a gasping breath. Catching and falling and catching again. He lolls his head on the seat, looking over to Eddie. Chest moving up and down with shallow, croaking shakes of air. “We can go,” he rasps, “I wanna sleep.”

The water bottle goes to the cup holders. And Eddie does what he’s told. Crawling slowly back home. Taking small pauses to check in with Steve, help him drink water, nibble on some crackers, rub his back when he hurls out the car window.

But when they make it back home, they move in complete and utter silence. Through the front door and to the couch. Wayne ogles the two of them, fear present in his eyes. His mouth hangs open, suckled dry of all words he could ever think to say. Eddie makes him grab a bowl of warm water and a rag.

And they just exist in silence.

In fear, Eddie now realizes, of whatever happened to Steve.

Because they’re not stupid. This wasn’t a fire. There was something else. Something more…disastrous. Dastardly. But Eddie places the bowl on the coffee table, sits on Steve’s right on the cushions, and turns them towards each other.

“Alright, I’ve gotta clean the blood off of your face, Stevie,” he encroaches their silence. “I’m going to be really careful. I’ll go slow. But I need you to tell me when you need a break, okay?” Steve blinks groggily at him. His eyes are dilated beyond belief. Eddie’s nauseous just looking at them. These aren’t the eyes he fell in love with.

These eyes are like terror in existential form.

Steve nods, though. He places a shaking hand on Eddie’s left knee. Doesn’t tighten it, doesn’t pet the fabric under his hand, just rests it there. As if he’s searching for an anchor.

Eddie wets the wash rag with the warm water. Raises it to Steve’s chin. “If this hurts, you need to tell me. Here we go.” The rag stains pink and crimson as soon as it touches Steve’s skin. He hates how hard he has to press just to work the blood off, but it’s dried to him. It’s coming off in flakes, Eddie sees the particles fall to Steve’s dirtied uniform. As he works the rag over Steve’s face, he can’t help but notice how stained and red the uniform is, too.

It used to be something Eddie could tease Steve about. Be flirtatious and saucy about it. Talk about stupid things with. Make dumb fantasies and see if Steve will play into them. But looking at it now only makes Eddie’s chest hurt. Makes his stomach turn uneasily. Shrivels something inside of him that will never live again. But he’ll get Steve into his clothes. Get him comfortable. Maybe he’ll burn the uniform when Steve isn’t looking. Rid of it like a demon needing to be expelled.

The last bit of the blood finally comes away, flaking from Steve’s nostrils to the washcloth. Eddie places it back in the pink tinted water. And then he looks back. At Steve’s child like eyes. And his split lip. The plum like bruise around his left eye.

Eddie’s never had homicidal thoughts, but today might just be the eye opener for him.

But he continues to be gentle. Offering, “Let’s get you some of my clothes. I’ll wash your hair in the bathroom sink. Then, you can rest.” Steve just nods, allows Eddie to pull him along to the bedroom, and change him out of his clothes. Ignores the slight bruising on his ribs, where he most likely struggled or fell. Tries to not think about the red, twisting lines across Steve’s chest, arms, and wrists from where he’d been tied. Just covers Steve back up in reds and blacks and soft things. And, while Steve is looking away, throws the Scoops uniform away in a nearby waste basket.

Washing his hair is no struggle. Steve goes listless and quiet when Eddie scrubs at his scalp, carefully detangles knots that were glued together by sticky blood. He barely blinks as he watches Eddie move and go through his hair washing routine. Doesn’t protest any of what Eddie chooses to do—even when he puts too much conditioner in the ends of his hair or doesn’t do two wash throughs with the shampoo, even if he uses a hair dryer instead of a towel. Allows him, which Eddie finds a little odd. He has an inkling, though, that it may just be the gentle touch that Steve doesn’t want to mitigate.

When they’re back in bed, Eddie lays flat on the mattress. Putting space between their two bodies. His alarm is set for three hours from now, where he’ll wake Steve up and make sure his concussion symptoms either are stagnant or lessening. But for now, he just stays put. Eyes up at his ceiling, stomach turning and knotting at whatever happened today.

Whatever happened almost doesn’t matter, knowing Steve made it out alive.

But there’s a haunting to him that Eddie can’t ignore.

Right when he thinks Steve is asleep and goes to close his own eyes, does he hear the smallest of statements.

“Hopper died, too,” Steve murmurs.

“No…”

Steve nods sagely against his pillow. “Heard about it through some of the kids I babysit. Guess he…Guess I wasn’t the only one to make a sacrifice.” Eddie hears him shift, coming closer. His body warmth radiating and tight against his rigid body. There’s a hesitant palm that slithers and sits on Eddie’s chest. Where his heart beats rabidly. “Could…Could’a been me.”

Eddie places his own hand over the back of Steve’s. Presses them together firmly. His chest caving with the push. “Don’t say that,” he harshly whispers. “Don’t…Steve, I thought it was going to be you. Please don’t say that.”

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I just…That’s the only thing I could think of before you got me. How I—I almost didn’t get to see you again.”

“At least you’re with me now, right? I’m just glad that you’re alive.”

“Yeah,” Steve croaks. “I just wish I could bring myself to tell you what happened.”

“Don’t need to do that, Steve. Just rest up and get better for me, alright?”

Steve shuffles closer. His head resting on Eddie’s shoulder. He nods. “Thank you. I love you,” he sleepily murmurs.

Eddie wraps an arm around his back and squeezes him tightly. “I love you, too, love bug. Get some sleep and I’ll check on you in a bit.”

The snores are a comfort after tonight.

——— And when he looks Steve in the eyes, mere seconds before he leaves for Vecna, Eddie understands the harrowing sacrificial fear. He’ll be the one to protect Steve now. “Make him pay,” he says. But he knows, reflected in Steve’s eyes, that there is finality in his stare. His stomach turns and his hands shake, but damnit, he’ll make sure that Steve won’t be the one drowning in blood this time.

He hopes to hear snores against his shoulder tomorrow night.

If night comes.

💕—————💕

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #angst and hurt/comfort

[taytrashmouth]

Peeta mellark x reader

(The hunger games)

Remember requests are open so please send them in!!!!

It was a quiet day in district 12. And everything would’ve been at peace if it weren’t the last day of the games. That Peeta was still in.

You told gale to call you when it was only down to a few tributes, you couldn’t watch Peeta and Katniss. Not after the way he left.

“Peeta Mellark.” Effie trinket read with a smile, your heart dropped as you watched him ascend the stage. Your throat ran dry and you couldn’t speak, you wanted to call for him but no words came out. Tears streamed down your face as you made your way to the empty aisle where Katniss has volunteered for her sister.

He looked down at me, but not for long. He couldn’t seem to bare it. A part of me knew he wouldn’t come home- I had seen the way those other tributes played.

I stood there until a peace keeper hit me across the cheek and shoved me back into place, I saw Peeta lunge forward but a peace keeper held him too.

When I was allowed to say goodbye I entered the small room after his family has left.

I hugged him tightly and he returned the gesture. “Peeta you have to survive.” You spoke firmly holding his face.

He started to object but you interrupted. “Promise me you’ll try to win!”

“I promise.” He was being genuine.

His hand brushed hair behind your ear and lingered on your cheek.

“You know- since you stood up for me against those boys when we were 12, I’ve never admired someone so much.”

You smiled whilst your cheeks turned red, you didn’t look away though, you couldn’t. This could be the last time you see him.

“You are so smart, and shy but you stand up for what you believe in, even when that means putting yourself out there. You’re funny and creative. I’ve never met someone who loves bread as much as you and-“ Peeta was rambling.

“Peeta..” you tried to question where he was leading in you Mr final moments.

“You’re beautiful n/n…and I guess all I’m trying to say is that I love you.” He looked nervously at your expression. “I have since the day I met you.”

“Peeta I- I love you too.” You smiled and cried at the same time.

“I wish I told you sooner.” He cried too.

“Yeah, me too.” He hugged you tightly.

As you both pulled out of the hug, with tear stained faces. You were leaning into each others touch. Lips barely grazing before two peace keepers were ripping you away. You screamed as they pulled you away.

“You’ll kiss me when you come home!” You yelled as they picked you up.

A boy from the mines ran out of the local bar to inform me that gale was calling. When I saw gale he couldn’t look away.

Peeta and Katniss were being hunted by some rabid hybrid.

You couldn’t watch for a while, until Cato found them and the stakes became a lot higher. You watched Peetas head almost become a meal and watched as he was held at gunpoint. You held gales hand in support as he did yours.

You hid your face in your other hand often.

When the last canon had fired you let out a breath you weren’t aware you were holding in.

“They won.” You smiled at gale.

Just as they announced 2 tributes from the same district can no longer win.

You began to cry. And then harder when Katniss handed Peeta those stupid berries.

You dropped gales hand and ran out of the bar. You couldn’t watch him die. You wouldn’t. You ran deep into the meadow and fell to your knees. You screamed. You were angry at the capitol, angry that you didn’t have more time with Peeta. You had lost the best thing in your life.

You stayed there for hours, crying and remembering.

You stayed out there in the meadow for a day or two. Sleeping under the trees. Forgetting about food or water.

When you finally went home in that third day you took a cold shower, wishing you had gone in his place.

In the early evening there was a knock on your door. You swung the door open expecting to tell whoever it was to come back some other day.

But when you saw the boy you longed for you began to sob. He grabbed you tightly, hugging you with everything he had.

“I thought you were dead-“ you sobbed into his shoulder. “I’m here now it’s okay.” He whispered into your ear and stroked your hair.

When you had both calmed down, he lead you to the river. Not many people knew about it.

And there it was, a picnic blanket with 3 types of bread in a basket accompanied by some fancy drink from the capitol.

“Peeta.” You smiled becoming all giddy. Running down to the blanket, Peeta followed with a smile, knowing he had made you happy.

“You like it?” He asked sitting down.

“It’s perfect.” You blushed, and ripped a piece of the soft bread loaf. “Mmmm… oh my god I missed this. There is no good bread in the world without you Mr Mellark.” you smiled. 

“It was all an act…” he spoke up. He looked scared. “Me and her.”

You smiled sadly to yourself.

“It wasn’t real?” You asked him genuinely to assure yourself, letting your insecurities get the better of you.

“Promise.” He whispered.

“Then you owe me a kiss, Mr-“ you were interrupted when he pulled you in and kissed you passionately. You squealed as he flipped you into your back, leaning over you into the kiss.

When he pulled away from air you giggled. “I’m really glad I’m home.” He smiled. You laughed again.

“Me too…”

You spent the rest of the evening holding each other, kissing and talking about all the times you missed each other over the past month.

“You are beautiful you know that.” He smiled, holding you in his lap looking at the water.

“You’re really pretty yourself…lover boy.” You teased tilting your head back and looking up at him.

“I hate that!” He cringed.

“Okay okay, I’ll stop.” You turned around to face him. “Lover boy.” You repeated and immediately screamed and ran away. He was hot on your trail. Smiling and chasing you.

When he caught you he spun you around smothering you in kisses, carrying you back with your legs dangling. Both laughing and smiling.

#y/n #thg peeta #peeta x reader #team peeta #peeta mellark x reader #the hunger games peeta #peeta mellark #peeta my beloved #the hunger games #may the odds be ever in your favor #katniss everdeen #gale hawthorne #thg fanfiction #thg #peeta supremacy #fluff