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astroboots · 11 months

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Rainy Night Patrol

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Summary: Miguel comes home after a night of patrolling with a lot of pent up tension to find you sound asleep.

Content: Somnophilia, panty-tearing practises (in this fucking economy?!??! I know gurl) jerking off with panties kind of? overprotective Miguel is our favourite Miguel. Rough sex. Multiple orgasms and overstimulation (cause do I evern write anything else anymore?). Implied violence against random street criminals.

A/N: Pre-established relationship with pre-established consent for somnophilia.

Word Count: 4,800

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

Rainy nights in New York are the fucking worst.

It brings out the worst in people. Stressed-out bankers who will push old ladies out of their way to get to a seat on the subway. Drunken assholes who piss everywhere, making everything reek, and alleyway mugging seems to increase by a disproportionate amount whenever it's pouring.

It surprises Miguel that street robbery even happens outside of comic books anymore. Do these people not have a computer? Cybercrime is a thing. A successful phishing scam targeting a bank employee can net millions overnight.

Yet here Miguel is, headbutting this public nuisance for trying to rob and assault a sorority girl on her way home, fists eating into the man's face. Even though it is evident by now that there is no way the man has a fighting chance, he refuses to stop. He's hissing and spitting at Miguel, lunging at him with the ferociousness of a rabid racoon.

The easiest solution would be to bite and paralyze and call it a night. But from the reek of stale sweat and copious body Axe spray coming off of this asshole, Miguel has no desire to put any part of this man's body into his mouth.

So here Miguel is, putting this bargain-bin Sylvester Stallone wannabe in a headlock and slamming his head into a street lamp in an attempt to knock the man unconscious, instead of where he wants to be: home, in your questionably sized apartment and lumpy feeling bed.

Christ, he hates this city.

By the time it's all said and done, and everything is wrapped up, it's already past midnight. As he slinks in through the window sill into your bedroom, you're fast asleep.

You're lying on top of the quilts, the bedside lamp still on, which means you've been up waiting for him, even though you're supposed to have an early morning tomorrow. Something, something about how it's year-end and you have to present... something or the other.

It's... endearing that you still do that, try to wait up for him every night, even though you should know by now that more often than not, he'll be home much too late for you to still be awake.

Climbing inside the bedroom, the post-fight adrenaline is still surging through his veins. He's riled up, irritated. There's heat brandishing under his skin that is pushing at the edges begging for an outlet.

He glances in your direction. You look so soft in the dim bedroom light, half of your face buried into the pillow.

No, tonight is not the night. You need your sleep.

With a shake of his head, he walks over to his side of the bed, letting the Unstable Molecule fabric of his suit recede until he's left standing naked in the half-darkness of your bedroom.

Dragging away the sheet, he tucks it over you, you hum and shift in your sleep. Leg swinging Akimbo over to his side before he's even had the chance to lay down. The oversized sleep shirt does nothing to disguise the curves of your body, falling completely off one shoulder and riding up to reveal the tantalizing curve of your bare thigh.

Shit.

His mouth waters at the sight, cock half hard just from watching you. It's not helped by the adrenaline still buzzing in his head. It wouldn't take much to get him the rest of the way there.

Miguel groans and rubs the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the tension growing between his temples. How exactly is he supposed to be getting any sleep with you lying next to him, all soft heat and sweet little hums that make him want to grind up against you like a cat in heat?

The weight in the bed shifts as you roll back away from him. A quiet snore issues from where you’re digging your face deeper into the pillow, clearly exhausted.

Fuck, guess he's just going to have to try. It'd be cruel to wake you now.

He slides into bed next to you, settling for the comforting warmth of you next to him, as he curls one arm around your waist and wraps himself around you. Burying his face into the warm nape of your neck and taking a deep inhale. The smell of your shampoo and soap that pleasantly lingers on his skin, washes away the memories of the stench of rain-soaked streets of this city, the disgusting smell of sulphur and piss.

New York throws a lot of stuff in his way. Muggers, arsonists, would-be murderers. It's nothing he can't handle. And he can handle what it throws at you too. Whether it is torrential rain or some freak force of nature threatening to put you in harm's way, it doesn't matter. He keeps you safe. And despite all the close calls, you're still here. Still alive. Still his.

His hand slides over the curve of your thigh at the thought, needing to feel your warmth underneath his fingertips. Goosebump prickles your skin at his caress, and he watches the way your back arches, pressing into his touch, even in your sleep.

A slow steady warmth blooms in his chest at your reaction. It's a heady blend of protectiveness but also pride. The universe itself can throw any tantrum it wants. He'll protect you from it all.

Your eyes stay shut, still clearly asleep, but your mouth parts with a needy hum, and Miguel gives you what you want, easing your body back into his arms. Like clockwork, you snuggle back against him, and the slight wiggle of your ass brushing against his front ensures there's no half about how hard is dick is anymore.

Needy heat rolls off his back in waves, and he slides one hand under the hem of your shirt and up along the softness of your stomach. If you were awake, you would be leaping away and smacking him for tickling you. But now the touch just makes you stretch and let out a contented little hum, your nipples already drawn up tight and hard for him by the time he reaches them.

Why are you so reactive when you're sound asleep? Part of him thinks you must be doing this on purpose; there's no way you can't be when he feels you shift again, the soft lace of your panties brushing up against his aching cock. He palms your hip, following the edge of the lace down over the curve of your ass, then hesitates.

You only pull out the lacey panties when you really want to rile him up. Saving them for special occasions because (as you never fail to mention while scolding him whenever he's ripped another pair in the heat of the moment) 'fancy underwear isn't cheap!' One of these lacey thrilly little things easily would set you back at $80 a pop. Miguel isn't exactly hard pressed for cash, but he sees your point.

Still Miguel doesn't know what he is supposed to do when you keep pressing back against him the way you are at the moment. He grits his teeth, jaw muscles protesting as he grinds them together, knowing fully well he's fighting a losing battle. It’s really only a matter of time. Miguel isn't a fucking saint, and right now the need riding the length of his spine is burning hot enough to incinerate him.

Oh fuck it!

Hooking a finger around the hem of your panties, he eases them to the side, and his hips hitch forward, rubbing himself against you. Sharp pleasure skitters along his back, and he has to bite down the groan in his throat. He draws back, and does it again, letting his cock ride along the curve of your ass. Letting his aching, leaking cock settle between your cheeks, the delicate lace trapping him in place against you.

You’re definitely gonna bitch at him later for stretching out the elastic. But that's okay, you'll forgive him, the way you always do.

He holds there, gently rolling his hips, doesn't go too forceful or too eager with his thrusts, some half-formed intention to not wake you. Thighs shaking as he savors the contrast between your smooth skin and the textured lace. He tells himself that he should take it slow and not disrupt your sleep. But Miguel's never been a patient man.

His hands are already moving, reaching, before his brain has anything to say about it, fingers hitching your panties even further to the side, and fuck the elastic, he'll buy you a new pair. Shit, he'll buy you twenty new pairs. A whole fucking store of panties if that's what you want.

He pulls back, presses forwards again, cock sliding between those plush thighs, the head, slick with precome, gliding smoothly against you.

And fuuuuuck.

He drops his forehead against your shoulder, eyes squeezing shut to ground himself. He can feel how wet you are, drenching his cock as he skims the hard length over and through your slick folds. You're warm and inviting and oh so fucking tempting. You may still be fast asleep, but your body is telling him it’s oh so very ready for him.

God you feel so fucking good.

Angling his hips, he slides the sensitive head of his dick against your slick folds, notching himself against your entrance, gritting his teeth against the way your pretty pussy clenches at the threat of invasion. He holds himself there, breath hissing between his teeth as he teases you both, with tiny, incremental movements forward, in, and back.

Pleasure swirls through him, hot and heady, his ears buzzing with electricity. He's lost in it, but not so far gone that he misses the noises you're making, your reaction. Those little sounds of dissatisfaction, the way your back arches, pressing your hips back against him. All of it telling him the same thing.

He presses his mouth to the corner of your shoulder. Has to hide the feral grin threatening to break out, because for all his vague intentions of letting you rest, part of him has been waiting for this. Part of him has been aiming for this exact outcome.

You. Awake. Fully ready to take him.

He presses forward again, just far enough that the head of his cock slips inside you, and is rewarded by your body clenching warm and wet around him.

Fuck, you feel too good. You always fucking do. It punches the breath right out of his lungs, needy heat singing through his veins and along every nerve ending in his body until he goes dizzy with it. There are advantages and disadvantages to enhanced senses, and right now, he's fully feeling both. Needs to get on with it, because he intends to have you coming on his cock at least twice before he's done.

Hooking an arm around your waist, he cups your mound. He stays there, pressing with his fingers and the heel of his palm, until he's rewarded by your hips hitching forward into the pressure, then rocking back again, causing you to sink down further onto him. A gasp and a small soft moan falls from between your lips.

He does it again, encouraging you to rock forward and then back again, taking him deeper each time. Inch by brain wracking inch, you take him in. He can feel your tight little pussy stretch around him, adjusting to his cock, as he presses your hips back and back and back until you're taking him all down to the root. Until he’s buried as deep as he can go.

Somehow it's not enough. Not when he's waited this long.

He centers three fingers over your clit through the lace of your panties, resting the heel of his hand just above your pubic bone, and then he presses down.

Your pussy clenches tight, and you jolt hard against him, gasping awake with a breathy 'oh' that does funny things to his brain. Makes rational thought skitter away from him, and when he hears his name on a long gorgeous drawn out moan everything inside him roars to attention.

"Miguel."

Satisfaction thrums under his skin. You’re awake, and he wants you awake for this. Wants you to know exactly who is about to fuck your brains out.

"That's right, nena," he croons, easing his hips back, and skimming his lips up from your shoulder to nip at your exposed neck, careful not to break the skin, relishing the sound of the perfect little gasp of yours. "I'm right here. You ready for my big cock, baby?"

"It– mmmmmm– It feels…" you mumble, voice still stumbling and sleepy.

He slams back into you just as you're trying to find your words, taking a bit too much pleasure in interrupting them when he hears you whine out a breathy, "Fuck, fuck!"

"What's that?" Miguel raises a hand to your chin, cradling it in his palm, tilting you back until he can press his lips to the edge of your jaw. "What does it feel like, tell me."

"Fee-feels like– ngh– like I'm already– taking your big cock." Your words are staggered, stuttered out each time he fucks his cock into you, and Miguel smiles.

"You are," he tell you, "You're taking me so well, nena."

It's a struggle for him to get the words out smoothly. He’s rolling his hips at a steady pace, fucking you in earnest now that you're awake to appreciate it. Every slick slide into your needy little pussy has pleasure burning sharp and insistent through his nervous system, overwhelming and inescapable.

He pauses, moving his hand away from your clit for a second, and grins when you whine and clutch at his arm.

"Patience," he scolds you "I've got you. I'm just gonna..."

He tucks his hand under your panties, and you stiffen against him, making a sound like an outraged cat. He knows exactly what you're going to say even before the words leave your lips, so he ignores you, sliding his fingers along the boundary where you're stretched so wide around the base of him, getting them nice and slick.

"You didn't take off my panties!? Miguel, these are my good wuh– oh fuck."

The words cut off when he locates your hard little clit, settling two fingers over it this time, one on each side, the way he knows always drives you crazy.

"What was that, nena?" he bites back a smile, "Something you wanted to say, huh?"

You suck in a breath, but he doesn't give you a chance to answer, fucking into you hard, and wastes no time resuming his former rhythm. The only thing that comes out of your mouth is a broken moan.

"Sorry, baby," he teases, "I didn't quite catch that."

You don't answer. There's no way you're going to, not with the way your body is drawing up tight, gasping for breath as if he's driving every last ounce of oxygen from your lungs.

He knows your body as well as he knows his own, and he has you caught now, like spider with a fly in its web. He keeps holding you tight against him, hips angled to drive up against just the right spot inside you, the one that has you sobbing and clawing at him with every thrust, each one forcing you forward against the fingers he has bracketing your sensitive little clit.

No more words from that smart mouth of yours now, only gasps and whimpers and cut-off moans that might be the first syllable of his name.

You're clawing at his forearm, breath stuttering in and out of your lungs in staggered gulps. Your heart beating loud and fast and alive in your chest, and he can tell that you're close now. He can feel it in the way your tight little pussy clenches and quivers around him, clutching at his cock like it wants to hold him close, closer, closest.

"Mi– Mi– Mig–" The sound stutters out of you in time with his thrusts, high pitched and desperate—cut-off moans that might be the first syllable of his name, more whine than words. Pride swells in Miguel's chest at seeing you, hearing you like this, strung out and stuttering on his cock, begging him for your pleasure.

Pleasure that only he can give you.

"That's right, nena." He fucks into you hard. Can feel you clench around him relentlessly.

"I'm right here."

You're squeezing him so goddamned tight.

"Fucking you."

It takes everything in him to hold to the same angle, the same pace. To give you just what you need, the way only he can give it to you.

"Making you come," he bites out.

You writhe against him, whining louder now, sweet noises growing higher pitched.

"Come for me, nena," he demands, and you shudder against him, your voice rising into a wail.

Your hot little cunt clamps down tight, fluttering around him, and bright spots of pain bloom into pleasure as your fingernails dig into his arm, drawing blood. Your pretty eyes flutter shut as the whole of your body tenses under him.

Fuck, you're coming.

"That's– fuck– That's it," he grits out, slowing his thrusts, rocking against you gently to help draw out your orgasm. To buy himself a freaking second so you don’t take him over the edge with you. He keeps the soft rolling rhythm until the wracked shivers seizing your body settles. Counting down the seconds until the grip of your nails into his biceps is easing, and then…

"Again," he demands, snapping his hips forward, fucking into you hard, "Come for me again, nena."

Miguel locks his arm in place, holding you at the angle that will let him hit that perfect spot inside you every time, the one that makes your eyes roll back in your head, and he intends to have you seeing stars. He hears your breath leave you with a strangled noise, feels your pussy clench tight and perfect around his cock, and grins through gritted teeth.

If he times it juuuust right, he can send you over the edge a second time. He's done it before, forcing you into another orgasm before you've even come down from the first, and he’s not above using his enhanced reflexes to make you do it again.

And right now? The way you're writhing against him, hands and arms and pussy clutching at him, like you're trying to pull him closer—pull him in, despite the fact that he's already fucking you as deep as he can go. All of that tells him his timing was spot-fucking-on today.

It doesn't take long. It never does when he makes you come this way. And thank fuck for that, because the feel of you clenching around him is almost enough to take him over the edge with you. He has to grit his teeth as he slows to the gentle rocking rhythm you like best when you’re coming. His free hand fisting in the bed sheets, claws digging into them in a way he knows will earn him another scolding later. But R.I.P. your damn linens. Better them than him. You may have come twice, but Miguel's not ready to be done with you just yet.

This time, when you come down, he keeps things slow and gentle until you go loose and boneless. Forces himself to slows further until every muscle in your body melts under his grip. You sink down into the mattress with a little sigh, like you're ready to drift back off to sleep just like this, safe and snug in his arms, his hard cock still buried inside of you.

And if he wasn't so hard up, skin crawling with need and desperation, maybe he'd let you.

But that’s not happening tonight.

Unfortunately for you, Miguel's too hungry for you. Starving. Wants to lick and bite and swallow you down to the very marrow of your bones.

He's been good. He's been patient. Has held himself back while he made you come. Twice. Satisfaction burns bright in his chest, almost as bright as his need for you. Two fucking times he's gritted his teeth, holding back his own orgasm by the skin of his fucking fangs as that pretty little pussy came around his cock, squeezing him so tight that for a second he was sure he'd black out and see god behind his eyelids.

Miguel is out of patience.

Any intention to go easy on you because you need the rest is gone. Any consideration for your early morning tomorrow has flown the nest.

Hands on each side of your hips, he rolls the two of you, easily flipping you forward onto your stomach and drags you down along the bed. You stay limp and relaxed, as you let him move you like a ragdoll, positioning you the way he wants, head and chest resting against the matress, ass in the air.

Once he's got you where he wants you, he takes just a second to admire you, taking in the way those pretty lace panties highlight the curves of your ass but do nothing to conceal your slick center, pulled to the side as they are, leaving your pussy fully exposed, all pretty and puffy from how well he's fucked you and glistening in the low light.

You shiver under his heavy gaze, and he can see the way your pussy clenches, can see how wet you are, shining slick, halfway down your thighs.

Miguel must've taken too long with his one second. A soft inquisitive "hmmmmm?" emerges from where your head is buried in the pillow, and you rock your hips gently side to side.

His dick jerks at the obvious invitation. Precome oozes from the tip, and he takes himself in hand, lets himself stroke once to spread it along his length, as though he wasn't dripping with you already.

"What's that, nena?" he bites out. He's so fucking hard for you, cock aching from holding back, but even now, he can't help but tease and goad you. "You want more? You didn't get fucked good enough already? Does that pretty pussy want my cock?"

"Mmmmm.... yes," you say, one hand outstretched behind you, making a 'gimme' motion at him.

The gesture is ridiculous, but he can't help the way it makes his chest pull tight. You're always so ready to have him, no matter how much he tires you out. Suddenly, he can't wait another fucking second to be inside you again.

He starts to line himself up, the wet heat of you just kissing the head of his dick when you tense up and make a sound of alarm. Fear stings his spine, and he freezes.

"You okay, nena?" he asks, pulling away from you, suddenly terrified that he's hurt you somehow.

Miguel has always been big—even before the "accident" that changed him—and he's bigger now, exponentially stronger. He’d thought he was being careful, but fuck, it'd be all too easy for him to let his strength get away from him, to go harder than you can handle.

"Are you hurt? Was I- Was I too rough?"

Because he forgets sometimes. Forgets that others don't heal at an accelerated rate like he does. That your body isn't protected by enhanced endurance that lets him walk off falling from a building, barely feeling the six broken ribs and fractured arm that results.

It's why he needs to protect you.

Always.

Unlike him, you can be hurt. Can be broken, can be killed. And if he’s hurt you, then he–

You make a negative sound, shaking your head.

"No, you big doofus," you mumble out into the pillow, and Miguel's heart slowly starts to ease its way out of his throat. "The panties. Take them off first. Don't want them to tear."

He stops, blinking in confusion as his eyes narrow down at you.

Your. Fucking. Panties!?

Really? His mouth curls down into a peeved frown. That's your fucking priority right now? After he's fucked you silly, made you come twice the way only he can?

"You want me to take your panties off, nena?" he demands, tone low and harsh, edging forward on the bed until he’s looming over you.

"Yes," you confirm. "They’re my last good pair." You’re nodding your head energetically in a way that tells him he hasn't done nearly as good of a job of tiring you as he thought. He’ll have to fix that.

With a snarl, he lances the crotch of your panties with a single claw, ripping them off your body.

"Miguel!" you squeak, clearly not expecting that, your voice pitched with disbelief, "Did you just–?"

"They were in the way," he manages to rasp out, lining himself up and pressing forward, unceremoniously shoving inside.

The tight, hot clench of your pretty pussy is blindingly good. It always fucking is. And just like always, Miguel is lost to it. He holds there, buried as deep in you as he can get, shuddering against you. He's damn lucky that extraordinary stamina comes bundled along with super-senses, or he'd probably come every damn time he slips inside you. It'd be all over at the first thrust.

Fuck, he has to move. He pulls out, and you gasp and claw at the sheets, shuddering under him as he starts to fuck you again. Obscene wet, squelching sounds fill the room, along with the echoing slap of flesh on flesh as he fills you over and over and over. You’re so fucking wet, so fucking perfect. He grits his teeth, trying to get a handle on the feeling, but it’s overwhelming.

Your hot, perfect little pussy clenches and flexes around his dick, and a blissful burn sears against his spine, streaking white and hot with pleasure. A tell-tale sign, warning him of what's to come if he doesn't stop. He sucks in a breath, trying to stave it off, barely hanging on to his control by the tips of his claws because he wants to feel you come around him one more time.

Because twice isn’t enough. Three times won’t be either. Nor would four, five, ten. Miguel’s greedy for you. Selfish. No matter how much you give him, it will never be enough. He will always want more of you.

More of your soft body pressed up against every inch of his. More of your eyes looking back at him, glazed over as if you have no coherent thoughts left in that pretty head of yours. He wants all of that and more. Another orgasm. Another fuck. Another kiss. One more breath. Just more, more, more.

He curls his hand around your throat, feels the chaotic race of your pulse under his fingertips.

"Come for me, nena," he demands, "I need it. Need to feel you."

He tilts your face up, your back arched like a bow towards him. So fragile. So trusting, that you let him do this to you.

He dips down to claim your lips, snapping his hips into yours faster now. Ramping up the pace as he chases his inevitable climax, forcing you to yours.

You whimper and keen with each thrust, eyes rolling wildly. Your mouth hangs open, panting out sweet, stuttered moans that he swallows in a bruising kiss. Your whole body tenses under him, going rigid, then your pretty pussy starts clenching down around him as you come again.

This time, Miguel can't hold himself back. Doesn't even try. Lets himself succumb to the sight, the sounds, the smell, the feel of you surrounding him, coming for him. His stomach draws in tight, toes curling into the sheets, as he can feel his balls drawing up, cock swelling further as he manages a last few ragged thrusts. Then he’s tumbling over the edge with you, burying himself as deep as he can as the unforgiving bliss rises and spreads, blotting out everything else.

It's endless. Pulses after devastating pulse that won't stop. He comes and comes and comes, emptying himself inside of you until he's lightheaded, barely able to hold himself.

No amount of supernatural stamina can help him in this moment. Not when he can feel his spend filling you to capacity and more, so full that it starts leaking out of you, down the line of your thighs and onto his. His strength gives out, and he collapses into the bed, bringing you down with him.

The two of you lay there, trying to catch your breath. You’re trapped under his weight, your small back heaving under his larger chest, sweat slicking your skin to his. He has no desire to move. Shifts slightly to the side, a concession to your need to breathe, but refuses to go farther than that. He wants to keep you right here, covered and cocooned by his body.

You tilt your head until you can peek over your shoulder at him. There's a look in your eyes, one that he has only ever seen on you. One just for him, filled with exasperated fondness, heat and loving familiarity. One he wouldn’t give up for anything.

"You're getting me new panties."

A warm huff of laughter escapes him. The bright warm glow in his chest spreads outwards, filling him with contentment.

"Sure, nena."

"And coffee in the morning," you add.

He hums in agreement because that's fair. You're going to be in zombie mode otherwise.

"And cupcakes for breakfast," you finish triumphantly.

Miguel turns his head to observe you, the way you're trying to hide that satisfied grin into the pillow to not betray how fucking over the moon you are right now after he's fucked you silly.

Smartass. Always pushing your damn luck. But it's not like he's going to ever say no to you is it?

He puts on a show of sighing loudly with mock exasperation. "From Gladis, yeah?”.

You nod into your pillow.

"Mmhmm."

He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, circling his arm around your waist, easily pulling you to his side.

The rain is still pouring down outside, but here in bed with your warm body pressed up against his side, the sound of it pitter-pattering against the window is almost soothing. He can feel his eyes slipping closed as it lulls him off to sleep.

The rain isn’t so bad when you’re warm and safe in his arms. Nothing is, as long as you’re here with him.

He’ll keep you safe.

Always.

Credits and Dedications: I have to give so so so so much credit to my clown-in-crime @thirstworldproblemss poor woman doesn't even go here, and spent the whole of her evening writing porn to me in my DMs. 90% of the porny parts have been written by her. So for all those who enjoyed this, please go to her inbox and send her much deserved love!!!

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #spider man 2099 #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x you #marvel #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara fic

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cordeliawhohung · 22 days

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some more pornstar!gaz where he walks into the studio with you filming with someone else. which is fine, you both work in the porn industry after all. such a shame that your co-star couldn't even get you off, though ):

Pathetic.

It was the only word that popped into Kyle’s head as he hid behind studio lights and camera men while he watched that scene unfold in front of him. There was every opportunity for that shoot to be magnificent, hell, everything had that opportunity where you were involved. Yet the man they had you paired with for that day was… subpar. Worse than that, he was useless.

Kyle watched with bored eyes as the man kept you pinned to the bed on your back with your legs around his hips. Usually Kyle was a fan of missionary, especially with you. He reveled in how he had the perfect view of your wide eyes and tense brows; how your hands always clung around his neck as if you would fall through the earth without him. It was a masterpiece he loved panting on you, yet this man was no such artist. Your hips were at a terrible angle — a pillow would have done you some good — and judging by the forced expression on your face, Kyle was right.

However, you wouldn’t have made it that far in the industry if you didn’t know how to fake it. Fake it well. Your hands still pawed at the man’s back like you couldn’t get enough of the way he pathetically pumped into you, and your moans still sang out like it was the only song you knew. You were, after all, an actress in some capacity.

Kyle knew you better than that.

Your hums and purrs were full of only a fraction of actual pleasure and passion. When he fucked you, there was always a lilt to your moans. A sweet pitchiness that he always seemed to pull out of you, especially when budding up against your cervix. You always gasped more with him too. You’d cry out and cling to him when his thumb circled around your clit or when his teeth gently sunk into the side of your shoulder. One of those days he’d eat you alive; on or off set, he didn’t care.

He could daydream about that all he wanted to, but that didn’t change the fact he was watching you get fucked by an amateur. Or at least he hoped they were an amateur. If they were a seasoned veteran still fucking women like they were lifeless sex dolls, he had a few choice words for the studio.

No matter, the torture was about to end. He could tell by the dramatic increase of the man’s grunts he was going to come soon, and Kyle nearly laughed at the relief in your face. How desperate you were, not for the man to finish, but for it all to finally end. And when he did finish, the man hardly kept the tip of his cock buried in your cunt as he gave you his spend. There was nothing deep or connecting about it; it felt like he watched a frat boy fuck some poor sorority girl rather than two adults properly make love. What a fucking waste.

Kyle could have done better.

Assistants wrapped you in a robe and whisked you off set faster than any other actress he had seen in his entire career, which almost made it even more pathetic that your co-star had to sit on the bed and take a breather. It was like your cunt had been the first drink of water he had gotten in ages, yet for you his cock had been nothing but another drop in the ocean. What made things worse, was that you didn’t even come. It was so painfully obvious, yet left completely unaddressed.

He wanted to remedy that.

One of the nice things about the studio you worked for was that they always ensured you had a place to shower after shoots, which was a godsend after that day. Annoying, sour smelling cum dripping down your thighs wasn’t exactly a feeling you wanted to savor, so you turned on the hot water as soon as you were finished. Well, as soon as your co-star had finished, anyway.

The bathroom was frigid. When they had constructed the building, it seemed as if they had prioritized more of the studio benefits rather than any sort of benefits for the actors. There was hardly any room for you to stretch your arms out in the shower, and every inch of the room was cemented in tile. But it was fine. You’d wash your body off, get the annoying sticky remains of a man you would have rather not fucked off of you, and then head home for a well deserved break.

Your break seemed further away than ever when you heard the squeaky sound of the bathroom door open just for it to close shut. Your eyes rolled as you did your best to hold back a heavy sigh. Not even a damn knock. It wasn’t uncommon for men who you shot with to follow you into the bathroom or dressing room in order to talk, which was just about as pathetic as it sounded. Most didn’t care to give you a second glance after filming, but others became rather… starstruck. You were one of the most popular female stars in that studio. Filming with you always meant big bucks.

Rather than ignoring the person who entered the room so wordlessly, you peeked behind the shower curtain with a preset glare on your face, only to be met with the sight of Kyle Garrick. A smile had already been painted onto his lips, but there was more than just friendliness behind them. There was a knowing look that nearly made you laugh.

“It seems I have a Peeping Tom,” you mused as you retreated back behind the curtain.

“You’ll be alright. I’ve already peeped more of you than what can be seen in the shower anyway,” he quipped.

There was a poor attempt made to try and hide your laughter from him, but the tile wall bounced your giggles around like a game of catch. Kyle snickered as he approached the bathroom counter and leaned against it.

“Saw you filming,” he admitted, sparking up conversation.

“Didn’t realize you were a voyeur,” you teased.

The shower turned off with a squeak as you finished your quick wash. You tore your towel off of the curtain rod before quickly drying off and wrapping your body with it before exiting. Each move was careful and calculated as you didn’t fancy slipping and cracking your head on that stupid fucking tile, but Kyle didn’t seem to mind you taking your time.

“Here for your own shoot, then?” you asked.

“I’ve got one in a bit, yeah,” he confirmed.

Humming, you approached the counter next to him where you began to rummage through your bag. If Kyle had been anyone else in the studio, you would have cussed them out and chased them out of the room within an instant. But you had grown rather close to him. You enjoyed filming with him. He was one of the few actors who could actually make you come, and you didn’t feel… gross afterwards. Luckily for you, viewers seemed to like the two of you filming together as well, so more often than not you were paired with him.

Just not that week, annoyingly enough.

“Just here to say hi, then?” you prompted.

Kyle slipped away from the counter, giving you room to set your items aside as you retrieved them from your bag, but he didn’t go far. His gaze flickered to you through the mirror before he slowly approached behind you, hands resting on your waist through the thick fabric of your towel.

“He didn’t make you come, did he?” he asked, ignoring your inquiry.

Your movements ceased as your eyes focused on the mirror in front of you. Kyle’s attention was trained on the side of your neck, and you could see the internal debate in his mind. Like he didn’t know if he should hold himself back from biting you or not.

“Was it obvious?” you asked.

“It was to me,” he answered. “All of it was. He did a piss poor job of gettin’ you off at all.”

A smirk pulled at your lips as you leaned back against him, and you felt his chest expand while his hands dipped lower. They ran along your hips, down your thighs, all the way until he reached the end of your towel where his hands then began to slide back up.

“You almost sound upset,” you teased.

“I am. It’s always a shame when pretty things like you get neglected,” he admitted, head dipping into the crook of your neck. His thumbs brushed over the underside of your bum as he pulled you further against him. “Could fix that, if you want.”

“You really were serious about getting me without the cameras, weren’t you?” you asked.

“I always keep my promises.”

Fuck. Fuck. You did want it. Wanted him. He was the only actor in that entire industry who actually seemed to know his way around a woman’s body, and it was terribly addicting. Not only was he good with his cock, but everything else. His fingers, his tongue, his words. He always had a way of getting you worked up and clenching around nothing before even touching you.

Slowly, you spun around so that you could face him, and you pressed your hands against his chest. The heavy-lidded expression on his face wasn’t a secret, but it never seemed like he tried to hide anything from you. Some sort of string bound the two of you together in a way that was more than just professional. No one else had ever followed you into the bathroom to get you off, anyway.

“It’s a shame your shoot is so soon,” you said.

Kyle’s lips twitched as you noticed his teeth dig into the side of his cheek, like he bit back words he knew he would regret. His hands lowered your towel back around your thighs, but his hands still lingered on your skin.

“Shame,” he agreed.

“But I’ll take a raincheck for when we shoot next week,” you added.

Words danced on the tip of Kyle’s tongue; things he wanted to say but couldn’t. Like how being in front of the cameras wasn’t what he had in mind. Or how he didn’t care if the taste of you lingered on his tongue when he fucked his other co-star in the next half hour. He didn’t have a bigger craving for anyone else like he had for you, but confessing that in the showers of a porn studio felt a little too on the nose.

Instead, his hands slid off of your hips as he pulled away from you with a smirk. He’d get you one day, just like he promised. He didn’t mind playing a little cat and mouse.

“I’ll be counting on it, doll.”

consider this me edging you guys, sorry not sorry

#pornstar!gaz #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #f!reader

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jd07201990 · 3 months

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I watched from the kitchen door, with a wide grin on my face, as my previously combative, nerdy Stepson watched his laptop, eyes glazed, for the umpteenth time these last 6 months. Nobody would ever remember tiny, snarky little Theodore. They’d only ever see Theo, this bulky, sweaty brute, lifting and fucking his way through college, just like any red-blooded young man should. And it was all thanks to my buddy Sarge’s “attitude adjusting” self help videos, he custom designs for a slew of shady clientele after he retired. Mostly foreign governments, some loony cults here and there. But for me, he’d done a personal favor. I filled out a details chart, every last trait, from his voice to his hair, posture, everything. I thought about everything he’d said about “those sweating, grunting behemoths” that all got into school with free-ride scholarships for athletics. Theo was going to helplessly, desperately, insatiably grow, eating and grunting his way to 215, the weight I’d maintained all through college. He’d also dress, walk, and talk like the testosterone (and a slew of supplements Sarge gave me with the videos) filled cocky young male you see frequenting college courtyards, throwing footballs between bros and chasing pretty sorority girls like lovesick puppies. Their dumb, dopey demeanor would seen pour from Theo’s mouth, his shoulders back, pecs out casually. He’d grope and adjust himself, sitting down with his legs wide no matter where he is. His diet would change, adding raw calories and protein, chuckling dumbly with the other gym rats as he gulps down creatine powder, dry, and chugs a shake to wash it down. The supplements Sarge gave me to add to his meals, ensured he’d bulk up fast, and solid. As long as I fed him enough, which I was warned would triple our groceries, at least, He’d gain the weight, and the thickness I was looking for, while his body would be thrust through a second puberty, allowing for the subliminals to work on other, aspects, of his masculinity. Let’s just say, we all know what they say about dudes with big feet. And his will be a hefty size 14. Too bad for his mother, our house is also going to reek like a Varsity locker room, because those feet, and the rest of him, will be all raw male, all the time. Pumped and ready, brimming with energy, like a Golden Retriever, if it were a 6’2” behemoth. The toughest bit was straightening him out. Giving him that good old fashioned, hot-blooded straight male instinct, making him drool over the coeds and cheerleaders, chasing girls like every young man should. The videos worked their magic well, the supplements setting his balls ablaze, churning out testosterone to fuel his primal need for aggression, for hard work, and effort, and sweat and sex. He fought it until his best friend Jenna, without realizing what her playful teasing was doing to him, had been on the couch with him, and had leaned over, and nibbled his ear one night while watching a movie. He'd lost his gold star that night. Quickly, and with all the confusion and passion that comes with young love and first times. Jenna had been stunned when he’d practically pounced on her, and from there, hours passed, and they wore themselves out right there on the couch. The next morning, he was mortified, but he couldn’t help but kiss her when she woke and complimented him on his… performance. It's been 6 months, and you’d never know he wasn’t always a muscled up, sweaty, straight boy, chasing girls at school, slacking off in class, and riding his new Lacrosse Scholarship that Sarge so nicely arranged when Theo got big and dumb enough to join the team. It seems Sarge knows quite a few coaches, Alumni, and Board members with a good bot of influence. It also seemed the school’s Jock population was skyrocketing, coincidentally at the same time as Sarge added a pool, an extension, and a garage full of classic cars to his house…

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hoshologies · 10 months

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ALL GREEK LOVE, LEE H.

synopsis — you spent the entire summer telling your family that you weren't going to join a sorority. now not only are you an initiated member of delta eta sigma, but you've been elected to the social chair position for you chapter. that's all well and good until heeseung lee, the newly elected social chairman for lambda rho and well-known in the greek community, reaches out to you to start planning runouts between your respective chapters. and now you're spending a lot more time with the cutest boy you've ever met.

genres &&. warnings — romance, fluff, meet-cute, smut, strangers to friends to lovers!au, college!au, greek life!au &&. underage drinking, afab!reader, tipsy sex, dry humping, oral (f!receiving), fingering, overstimulation.

word count — 15.7k.

from the author — not to be totally sorority girl, but the way i see greek life depicted in college au fics is CRAZY. now that i'm back hardcore into my kpop stan era, i rewatched the drunk-dazed mv and was like hmm... so the ultimate plan here was to write heeseung filth but also portray greek life a little more accurately because even if i'm not a huge fan, one thing about me is i'm gonna make sure y'all KNOW that greek life isn't just parties every weekend.

jokes aside, i really hope you enjoy this fic and my first real return to writing. likes, reblogs, and feedback are always welcome. and honestly, if you have any questions about greek life that you just have to know the answer to, i'm an open book.

if you enjoyed it, feel free to buy me a ko-fi!

the entire summer before starting your freshman year of college, you had told your family that you weren’t going to join a sorority. in your mind, there was a specific mold that one needed to fit into to join a sorority and quite frankly, you checked none of the boxes of those stereotypes.

yet here you sit, months later, in your sorority’s chapter meeting. and you’ve just been elected to the social chair position of the chi nu chapter of delta eta sigma.

truthfully, you’re not quite sure how you ended up here. you hadn’t formally rushed the week before school, but a couple of drunk girls at a frat party at the beginning of the semester had told you that you should rush their sorority. maybe you’d been a little desperate to branch out or maybe you were just a little curious of what rushing looked like, but a few days later at the student organization fair, you’d found the booth for the sorority the girls had told you they belonged to, delta eta sigma, and signed up for their informal rush.

by the end of october, you had been extended a bid, assigned a big, and promptly initiated into the chapter in what you jokingly referred to as a cult ritual (how could you describe it any other way? all white outfit? candles? promises to not divulge secrets about rituals that happen behind closed doors?).

and now, just three weeks after officially joining the chapter, you’ve ended up on the programming board somehow. you’d gotten a call from the selection board while sitting in the drive-thru of mcdonalds, waiting impatiently for your order of fries and a sprite as a treat for doing well on your gen psych quiz. the girl who’d called you said you’d made “quite the impression” on the sorority since accepting the bid and that they (including the chapter advisor) thought you’d be the perfect fit for the social chair.

“it’s a solo position, so you won’t have a co-chair like community service does, but given your grades so far this semester and the impact you’ve made on the chapter already, we would really love to see what you can do in this position! would you be interested?”

so really, how could you say anything but yes? you still don’t think you fit all that perfectly into the chapter, but they were giving you an opportunity to get involved and to make yourself fit. your name is announced for the social chair, one of your senior pictures pasted up on the powerpoint, and the girls around you smile and snap their fingers. from the executive board seats up front, your big smiles at you, eyes sparkling with something akin to pride.

a few days later, as you’re getting lunch at the student union, your phone screen lights up with a notification from groupme. a name you vaguely recognize is paired with a message that gets cut off after a few words.

heeseung lee: hey! this is heeseung from lambda rho and…

as you sit down with your salad and dr. pepper, you click the notification and read it in full. at the very top of the new message thread is heeseung’s picture and it clicks where you recognize him from. he’s friends with your big and he’s involved in a few of the bigger student organizations on campus, namely the activities board, so you’ve seen him in the student union fairly often.

[1:36 pm] heeseung lee: hey! this is heeseung from lambda rho! i’m friends with liv and she told me that you just got elected as the new social chair for your sorority. i just got slated into the same position for my frat.

[1:36 pm] heeseung lee: i know we won’t start running things until next semester, but i just wanted to reach out and touch base with you. i’m really looking forward to planning runouts with you next year :]

[1:37 pm] heeseung lee: sorry. i hope that wasn’t too weird. i guess i’m just a little too excited and want to get a bit of a headstart on things. have a good day!

you laugh to yourself, shaking your head as you set the phone down to take a bite of salad. before getting involved in greek life, you always assumed sorority girls and frat guys were airheaded and mean, people who peaked in high school, trying desperately to drag those glory days out. obviously since then, you’ve come to realize that while it is true in some occasions, most times, greek life members are the opposite.

heeseung, who you’ve never spoken to before, is proving that.

[1:42 pm] hi heeseung! not weird at all, i promise. and i’m really excited to plan events with you next semester too :]

by the beginning of february, you haven’t done much with your position. granted, the semester has only really been in full swing for about a week and a half and you have two full semesters to do plenty of things, but you’re itching to start planning. the binder you were given after the officer transition ritual has so many good ideas, everything from runouts with frats and sororities to both formal and semiformal.

while you’re brainstorming ideas for potential social events late on a tuesday night, your phone lights up from its spot on your nightstand, the short bell sound ringing out. you reach for it absentmindedly as you finish writing down the idea you had (rent out skating rink??? check budget). since the beginning of the school year, you’ve become desensitized to the groupme icon when it appears in your notifications, so much so that you barely register heeseung’s name upon first glance. it takes a second look for you to realize who’s texted you.

[9:12 pm] heeseung lee: sorry for texting so late. i just wanted to see if you wanted to meet up some time and start on some ideas for a runout?

[9:12 pm] heeseung lee: obviously not now!! but if you’re free some time this week, we could meet somewhere and talk. i spent all of winter break brainstorming stuff, so i’d really like to run it by you if that’s ok.

[9:14 pm] hi again heeseung. i was actually planning on getting lunch tomorrow at the student union after i’m done with class at 11 if you’re free then?

the second you press send, you immediately start second guessing yourself. does it come off like you’re asking him to have lunch with you? because that wasn’t your intention. really, you just meant that you’re going to be on campus proper for a little bit and wanted to offer to meet before you got lunch. not that it would be a bad thing if he asked if you could get lunch together; liv likes heeseung well enough and you’ve seen him around, and he really does seem nothing but nice, so lunch really couldn’t hurt— okay, take a breath. it is not that serious.

you take a deep breath and then let your muscles go lax as you exhale. better.

it feels like ages pass before he texts back. you’re worried you’ve scared him off, but it really shouldn’t be that stressful. it’s just a text and he’s the one who wanted to meet up in the first place anyways; you just offered a time and location. but finally, your phone dings again and his name lights up your screen.

[9:21 pm] heeseung lee: actually that works perfect!! i get out of class at the same time and usually grab lunch at the u before heading to the activities board office. wanna meet by the dining area next to the office?

[9:21 pm] sounds like a plan!! i’ll see you then!

heeseung, you realize as you set your phone down and put away your binder for the night, is the only social chair of any of the greek organizations who has reached out to you to start getting the ball rolling. he seems to be just as anxious as you are about doing this job well, which makes you feel at least a little validated. nervous and jittery though you may be about meeting him for the first time tomorrow after only having chatted with him over text twice, the idea of him feeling the same as you brings a strange form of comfort. with enough of it, you actually start looking forward to seeing him tomorrow as you lay down to sleep, mind running a mile a minute with what it’ll be like to meet him after all of the things you’ve heard about him from liv. by the time you slip into the embrace of sleep, anxiety has boiled down into anticipation.

at 11:02 the next morning, heeseung nearly scares the hell out of you when he shows up at the designated meeting spot. you’re so invested in your twitter scroll that you don’t notice when he walks up. it’s not until he says a soft “hi” that you jump and almost drop your phone in the process. when you look up, there’s a worried look on his face.

“sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you!”

after a moment to catch your breath, you shake your head and wave his worry off, though the gesture doesn’t do much to make that worried look on his (undeniably pretty) face. “it’s okay, heeseung. really.”

to really seal the deal, you shoot him a gentle smile, trying to prove that your heart isn’t about ready to give out anymore. you feel blessed when he returns it, all quirked up at the corners and smile lines and soft, plush cheeks. silence falls, the two of you smiling and staring at each other like idiots until heeseung shakes himself out of his stupor.

“anyways…” he clears his throat and moves his gaze towards the food court. “what did you want to get to eat? my treat.”

you look up at him, at the way he’s pointedly not looking at you and instead examining the restaurants just beyond the dining areas. you know, the restaurants that have been the same for the last five years probably and will be here for another five, the ones he’s grabbed food from at least a couple of times since the semester started and even more since the beginning of the school year.

“you don’t have to buy me lunch, heeseung. it’s-”

he finally turns to look at you again, that same easy smile still pulling his features into a soft form of happiness. “it’s no problem, really. just an act of good faith. all greek love and whatnot, you know?”

you laugh a little at that, conceding but allowing him to choose where he wants to get lunch from since he’s the one paying and you don’t really have a preference. by the time you’re sat opposite each other at a table with meals from the burger stall, your stomach is rumbling. you’re about half of the way through your burger when heeseung looks up from his fries, clearing his throat to get your attention.

“so…” he starts. it’s clear he hadn’t planned what he wanted to say before catching your focus, so an awkward silence settles over him, eyes on you but focused somewhere off behind you like he’s looking through you instead. you tilt your head, lean in close, which snaps him out of the trance and he restarts. “right, ideas for events. i have a binder from the last social chair of my frat with a bunch of things he did during his time.”

“oh! i do, too!” you interject. “there’s a bunch of stuff that the last girl did and then things some of the girls before her did too.”

heeseung’s grin breaks back across his face, bright and warm; you swear, a smile from this boy alone could break up the threatening winter storm currently hanging over campus. “there’s a bunch of good ideas in mine. but i’m not quite sure how well they’d work right now because of the weather.”

“are most of the ideas outside?” you inquire, taking a sip of your soda while he confirms your suspicions. when you put the cup back down, you wave off his concern. “no worries then. almost all of mine are ones that can be inside, so we could go through those if you want!”

heeseung nods and smiles that morning sunlight smile of his, and you can’t move quick enough to pull the thin pink binder out of your tote bag. he clears away some of the trash from the table so you can lay out the binder, intro page on full display. for the next five minutes, the pair of you pore over the pages upon pages of ideas, sleek white cut through with black ink that lists the idea, the locations, how much it costs.

you’re so invested in going over everything with him that you hardly acknowledge when heeseung stands and moves into the open seat beside you so neither one of you is craning your neck. you simply adjust the binder so you can read through the pages comfortably. it isn’t until heeseung points one out excitedly and you look up in startle that you finally notice that he isn’t a foot away but inches, noses just centimeters apart.

right now, this is the most compromising position you could possibly be in with a boy you hardly know and you find yourself praying that nobody from either of your chapters decides to walk by. of course, neither of you have anything to hide – this is a simple brainstorming session, of course, absolutely nothing more – but liv and your small group of friends would never let you live this down if they saw it.

heeseung clears his throat after seconds that stretch into years and you break your gaze from his painfully (how can you be blamed for staring? he’s that soft kind of pretty that hypnotizes). “um… so i think rollerskating could be fun…”

it is a good event that your sorority has done with the other frats and sororities in the past, one that you were playing around with as a potential plan to pitch to him. the fact that he picked it out on his own accord makes you bristle with something akin to pride, a feeling so warm and comforting it has you leaning just a little closer to him.

let the girls see me, you think as your sweater-clad shoulder brushes against his own. there are worse things they could catch me doing.

“actually… this was one of the ones i was going to suggest if you didn’t find any that you were really interested in…” you say quietly, voice nearly lost in the din of the dining area of the student union.

heeseung looks at you, blinking slow and round and soft, as if each flutter of his eyelids is a moment of his brain processing your words. “really… maybe it’s a sign…?”

his voice is just as soft, matching your energy in one swift go. you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing as you, if he’s feeling that it seems like you’ve known one another forever despite only knowing each other for fifteen minutes max; it seems like your souls themselves are in complete synergy, so why would it be so farfetched to wonder if maybe you knew each other in a different life to have caused that synchrony?

you laugh a little and shrug, shoulder brushing against his softly; the movement is short and sweet, but your heart rises in you like the high tide, washing through your veins with foam and salt and the kind of breeze only the ocean can bring, chill and warm all at once. “maybe so.”

silence settles over the table like sand stirred on the ocean floor, the both of you lost in your own worlds. heeseung has dragged his soda to this side of the table and sips absentmindedly, gaze focused miles beyond the horizon of the hallway. he’s completely checked out when your consciousness wanders back into your body and you take the moment to study him a little: the even slope of his nose, high cheekbones paired with plush skin, long eyelashes that brush the apex of his cheeks when he blinks, a flutter of dark against light.

there are worse boys you could be caught staring at.

you’re still thinking about your lunch with heeseung hours later, even when you’re out getting your weekly tuesday night ice cream with your big. liv is going on about how her professor for her linguistics class pissed her off during lecture today, but you’re not absorbing a single word of any of it. you remember vaguely that he openly disagreed with her during the lecture and they got into a debate in front of the whole class, but beyond that, you don’t know much else.

“god, he’s just the worst. i can’t believe– alright, you’re in the stratosphere right now. what’s going on?”

you snap back to reality, eyes wide and goosebumps prickling up under the sleeves of your sweater. you shake your head, trying to brush away the conversation she’s trying to prompt, even though it’ll be futile because liv can’t let things go for the life of her. “nothing! everything’s fine, i swear.”

liv’s eyes narrow and a single dark eyebrow quirks up. “yeah, i’m not buying it.”

you glare playfully at her, eating a spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. when you swallow, you answer with a pointed, “when do you buy anything i say? really, liv. it’s nothing.”

“did someone say something to you? i’m part of panhellenic and on the all-greek council. if someone did something, i can handle it.”

you shake your head earnestly and wave a hand for extra emphasis. “olivia. seriously. nothing happened.”

your big is silent for a few moments, studying you intently. her shady blue eyes, usually wistful and giving the impression of being miles away herself, cut right down to your very bone, as if she’ll find the answer she’s looking for written into your skin or soul, carved into your heart. eventually, she sighs and slumps back against the booth.

“alright, fine. i’ll believe you this time,” she says in a voice that hints at disappointment. “but you’d tell me if someone did say something to you, right? i’m serious about getting things taken care of if someone does something like that to you.”

you smile, reach across the table, rest your hand over her. “yes, liv. i would tell you if somebody treated me badly. you’re the only friend i have who would be willing to go to jail if needed. but i promise the situation doesn’t call for that right now.”

she perks up a little at your words and takes a deep breath, nodding. she’s back to her bubbly self, resuming her rant about her asshole linguistics professor who definitely shouldn’t have tenure. the whiplash her behavior gives you definitely just secured her an award for “most melodramatic” at formal in april (which, fuck you have to start planning that soon too).

you remain checked into liv’s rant, assenting when she asks you for your opinions on this professor who you’ve never met and never plan on meeting, and offering advice when she wants it. but you still find yourself wandering off at times, mind focused on heeseung.

you’re not sure why you don’t want to tell her about meeting with the boy earlier; she’s one of his friends and she’s always spoken so highly about him, so you shouldn’t feel embarrassed. in fact, she’s mentioned in passing a couple of times (mostly when she’s undeniably hammered) that she thinks you and heeseung would make a cute couple, even though she’s never seen the two of you interact, let alone exist in the same room.

but there’s something special about the thirty minutes you shared with heeseung. you met in a public place, sure, but something about it felt and still feels so sacred to you. it’s something you want to keep a secret for at least a little while. that soft sunshine smile and the low tide brushes of shoulders are things that, for now, belong solely to you and heeseung. it won’t kill liv to be left out of the loop for a while.

“do you think we should have it closer to midterms?” heeseung’s voice is pure static, like he’s going through a tunnel, even though there’s only half a campus worth of distance between you.

the two of you have graduated from groupme dms to phone calls over the course of three days. heeseung is saved affectionately in your phone as sseung with the deer emoji, one that you picked out as he sat across from you after you’d exchanged numbers; he doesn’t know about it, but he reminds you often of a deer caught in headlights with the way he stares at you all wide-eyed when you try to catch his attention.

“maybe? but people have to study. i’m not sure how often your guys are in the library, but i see at least thirty girls at the library every single night, so i’m not sure how willing they’d be to give up a night of studying, even if it is only for an hour, that close to midterms.”

heeseung’s small, thoughtful hmm is audible over the speaker and you smile to yourself over a basket of clean laundry. you’ve spent maybe three hours max with him over the last couple of days and already you have a pretty decent grasp on his personality and habits. right now, you can picture the way he likely looks up from his phone or planner and stares off past the beige cinderblock wall of his dorm room, turning possibilities over in his head.

“no, you’re right about that. i didn’t even consider it.”

you shrug as though he can see you, folding a pair of sweats and setting them to the side. “i’d definitely like for it to be soonish though. it doesn’t have to be planned super far in advance, you know what i mean? we’ve still got… what? a month until midterms?”

“i think so, yeah.”

you nod to yourself, hanging up one of your shirts. “okay, so what about two weeks from now? that lands us right in between now and midterms, so it’d be a happy medium.”

he’s silent on the other end of the line and you pause in your hanging of another shirt, worried that he’s thinking you’re stupid. of course, heeseung would never think anything like that about anyone because he’s the sweetheart to end all sweethearts. still, you worry because what this boy thinks of you is ridiculously imperative to your day to day functions.

three days, you remind yourself. you’ve known him for three days. there’s no reason for his opinions to hold this much weight.

you wonder if heeseung knows just how easy it is to like him, to be around him; if he knows just how much you want to see him all the time because he’s completely taken over your every waking thought. liv’s comments about him made in passing never could have truly captured just how amazing he is, nice and caring and so so pretty. you’re almost embarrassed to be this head over heels for him, but when he laughs over the phone or focuses all of his attention on you over a table in the food court, that mortification burns away into something soft and sweet and slow.

“i think that’s a great idea. not too soon, so we can make sure our chapters know it’s happening, but not too late that it disrupts any midterm studying.”

you breathe a sigh of relief and smile to yourself, resting your hands against the lip of the laundry basket. the rational part of your brain knew he was going to agree, but the part of you that so desperately craves his approval was disgustingly terrified that you wouldn’t receive it. now that you have, though, a heat rushes through you, pride warm and bright because you offered a good solution to the minuscule obstacle.

“yeah, exactly!”

you can just imagine the grin on heeseung’s face right now, delicate like freshly fallen snow. the image fills you with the giddiness of a high school girl, glad to be the one to have caused such a beautiful sight. “okay, cool. i’ll talk about it with the executive board, get it approved and whatnot, but i think we should be set, besides who’s paying for what.”

“what do you mean?” you question, brows furrowing as you finish up the last of your laundry.

“what do you mean?” there’s a playful, teasing edge in his voice. “someone has to pay to book the rink and the shoes, and don’t you think there should be snacks?”

“oh… yeah, i guess so.”

“so i was thinking we’d cover the booking and you could cover the food… but only if you’re cool with that! obviously, it’s not a big deal or anything, but i figured we should get that in order too so we can a specific date set and everything.”

“no, no! that works fine for me! i honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead, so it’s a good thing you did.” the line falls silent for a few moments, static crackling softly between you. there’s just something about the idea that you’re so close yet so far from each other, physically distant but holding each other close like this over a quiet cellphone line. it’s comforting to have him like this, you find.

“but yeah…” you break the stillness with your voice soft so as to not completely shatter the tranquility you’ve cultivated here. “that’s… that’s good thinking, heeseung.”

“hanks…” his own words mimic the same volume, nearly lost in the haze of the phone. “so… i’ll run it by the exec board and let you know?”

you hum a quick mhmm and tell him that you’ll do the same. there should be no reason that you’ll be denied, but the fact that liv, seeing as she’s vice president of programming, is part of the exec board and will find out that you’ve been, at the very least, talking to heeseung on a semi-regular basis (see: every day this week since tuesday afternoon) is a little nerve wracking, mostly because you’re ninety-nine percent sure she’s been hinting at trying to set the two of you up.

and when you say hinting, you mean pointing him out on campus or at parties and saying something like “really, i think you two would get along so well! you should go and talk to him.”

she was right about that, but the last thing you need right now is her finding out that you are catching feelings, all without her meddling. but you’ll make peace with the fact because you have to.

liv sidles up to you two weeks later on a thursday night, knit-clad arms crossed over her chest. you don’t even have to look at her to know she’s wearing a smug expression right now. “so…”

you don’t even physically react to her presence, instead choosing to gaze out over the rollerskating rink in your little college town. “so… what, liv?”

she nudges you with her shoulder and leans with her back against the wall separating the rink floor from the carpet of the sitting area. “you and heeseung, huh? i’ve been telling you for ages that the two of you would get along!”

you scoff playfully and roll your eyes, finally turning your head to look at her. “can you not start sentences like that?”

“like what?” she asks innocently.

“like heeseung and i have something going on. all we did was plan one runout together. we’ve only met, like, one time in person.”

you regret the words almost as soon as they leave the tip of your tongue because the second she hears the phrase “in person,” she’s already causing a scene. even though her voice is somewhat drowned out by the music blasting over the speakers, the absolute tenacity with which she gestures with her entire body draws more attention than it should. melodramatic as per usual.

“in person? when was this? and why was i not informed?” the questions liv asks a million times come out more like exclamations than anything else, too caught up in melodramatic distress to adjust the tone of her voice correctly.

you shrug absently, turning your head back towards the rink. heeseung is standing on the opposite side, talking to a few of the guys from his frat. he looks nice in his blue and green sweater and loose jeans, brown hair tousled from the winter breeze outside. “a couple weeks ago. and i didn’t tell you because it just wasn’t that important. we literally only had lunch just to talk about ideas for this.”

liv whines your name and stomps a foot like a child throwing a tantrum. “yeah, but i’m your big. i wanna know these things! and i’ve also been trying to set you two up forever! you didn’t think i’d want to know that you’d finally met him, even if it wasn’t because of anything i’d plan? my feelings are hurt.”

“first, this is exactly why one of the awards for formal this semester is going to be most over dramatic and exactly why you’re going to win,” you start, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “second, i knew you would want to know, but i also knew this is how you’d react. i didn’t think you’d want to know about us setting up an event together, like… there’s no tea to spill or whatever. it’s just boring stuff. i don’t even know him that well.”

a bold-faced lie if you’ve ever told one; you know heeseung down to the cologne he puts on every morning. and maybe there was a little more to the event planning sessions. at least five times over the past two weeks, heeseung has approached you either in the food court or at the library, and taken the seat opposite of you to chat and study a bit. not to mention, you’ve texted every single day since the two of you officially met for the first time.

but again: nothing liv needs to know. heeseung, for now, is just your little secret. the conversations you’ve shared, the little details you know about him, the sweater he’d given you a few days ago when you’d gotten cold at the library and your own sweater had gotten soaking wet due to rain and your lack of an umbrella, those are your things, special and personal and entirely yours.

“ugh. the two of you are so boring,” liv moans dramatically, tipping her head back. “i hope you hang out more after this, but only if you tell me about it.”

you shrug and glance back across the rink. heeseung has shifted positions, his arms crossed over the railing and by some stroke of luck, he’s looking at you, looking otherworldly under the shifting blue and purple lights. he smiles softly, just a quick phantom of a grin, and the only think you can do is return it with that same gentleness and warmth.

“maybe,” you say, glancing over at liv and then back at heeseung. “i guess we’ll just have to see.”

a week later, you’re sitting in your dorm room on a friday night, finalizing edits for a midterm paper, when there’s a banging at your door fifteen minutes before ten.

“heyyy! let me innn!” liv’s voice is airy and slurred through the door, so you can already guess what she’s here for.

with a heavy sigh, you stand and make your way to the door, opening it and finding your big leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. she’s dressed in her usual party attire: ripped jeans, black tank top, dirty shoes reserved specifically for the sticky basement floors of frat houses. she’s holding a metal water bottle in her hands; you can only guess what she’s mixed in it tonight.

“what’s up, liv?” you ask, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe, even though you don’t need an answer. you hadn’t anticipated her being here, so you’re already decked out in your comfy night clothes, prepared for a night in only.

“lambda is throwing a party and you’re going with me,” she says peppily, practically jumping up and throwing herself into your room.

“liv-“

she whips around on her heels to face you, eyes glowing in the soft gold of your fairy lights. “no fighting me on this. you’ve been working hard and you need a break. so you’re going to dress like the hot bitch you are and then we’re going to lambda.”

liv is rooted to the spot, though she sways a little on her feet, and makes it known without words that she is not moving until you get ready for this dumb frat party. eager to get her drunken glare off of you, you sigh and nod, closing the door behind you, shutting off your desk light, and moving towards your wardrobe, rifling through the hangers to find a proper outfit.

you’ve been to lambda rho’s house before and it is nothing to write home about… unless, of course, you’re talking about how absolutely filthy the basement is; they have the best sized basement out of all of the frats on campus, but you swear they have never done anything to clean the floor. the first time you went, you’d been having a great time drinking well-mixed jungle juice and dancing to the best songs of the 2010s when you noticed that every step you took sounded like velcro. the floor was so sticky that you were literally having to put pressure behind pulling your shoes from the concrete. it totally killed the vibe.

but the jungle juice and occasional jello shots are great, so you persevere. besides, lambda throws the best parties on campus and you’re clearly the person to trust on party hot takes since you only go back to frats you have a good time at (sorry, sigma pi).

plus, heeseung is in lambda rho and he has to be there since he’s the social chair and all, so… you note that out of the maybe five parties you’ve been to there since the beginning of the school year, you’ve never once seen him. granted, he’s only required to be at any parties hosted while he’s the social chairman, so maybe he just didn’t go to any last semester. or maybe he’s a wallflower like you, choosing to stand on the outskirts instead of in the center of attention.

lost in your haze of heeseung thoughts, you don’t really register that you’ve finished dressing and that liv has sat you down at your desk to fix your hair. somehow, while very much drunk, your big has an easy time styling it. she’s focused intensely on the task at hand, but also manages to carry on a one-sided conversation, not realizing that you’re not responding to her. but when she moves her hands from your head and sets them on the back of your chair, you’re amazed; she’s always been good at styling and fashion (hence why she’s been in charge of the homecoming student org dance and cheer competition every fall for the last two years), but you weren’t expecting her skills to be up to par while buzzed to hell and back.

“there we go, ready to wow heeseung,” liv says matter-of-factly, a proud look on her face. when you glare at her through the mirror, she smiles and shrugs lazily, reaching to grab her water bottle and phone from your desk. “what? he’ll be there tonight and i’ve heard through the grape vine that he might have a little crush on you, so…”

you whip around at her words, hands braced against the back of your chair. something like liquid anxiety prickles under your skin, sending goosebumps across your arms. liv is friends with just about everyone in greek life, so “the grape vine” could quite literally mean anybody, but who did she find that out from anyways? when did heeseung say anything like that? did he even actually say that or is she just deadset on shipping the two of you together until it either happens or falls through?

“what?”

she looks back at you over her shoulder, one hand resting on the doorknob and your dorm keys in the other. there’s a mischievous glint in her dark eyes and your heart drops; how did you get such a schemer as a big? “oh, yeah. i was hanging out at the lambda house the other night with yeonjun. you know? heeseung’s big? and he maybe mentioned something about it. why do you wanna know?”

she sidles back up to you, pulling you out of the chair by your shoulders. “do you maybe… i don’t know… like him back? why are you so nervous?”

you shake your head, trying to will the goosebumps on your arms and lightning in your veins away. you’ve claimed a million times over the last few weeks that there is nothing more going on between you and that boy, no matter how pretty or sweet you might think he is. heeseung is just a friend, someone you just so happened to click really well with and just so happened to plan a really fun event with. there’s nothing else to say about it or the way you get excited when his name shows up on your phone or how your day immediately gets better when he walks up to you at the library without texting you first, your favorite snack and coffee in hand and a smile on his face.

there’s nothing there to unpack. you think.

“i’m not nervous. and i bet yeonjun just misheard heeseung. the two of us are just friends. i’ve told you that a million times and i’m sure he’s said the same thing.”

liv just laughs and ushers you towards the door. “okay, okay… sure, sweetheart. let’s get over there before they run out of alcohol.”

jay, the self-appointed dj for every lambda rho party, is blasting year 3000 by the jonas brothers when you and liv arrive in the basement. there’s already a large group of bodies on the dance floor, but the bar area is still pretty crowded and getting worse. liv links her arm with yours so that you won’t get separated, even though there’s no chance of you getting lost or anything.

the two of you make your way towards the bar where yeonjun is “bartending,” a term he insists on using despite the fact that all he does is pour cups of vibrant red jungle juice. blonde hair hangs over his forehead and his skin is glistening with sweat already, looking weirdly ethereal under the colorful lights that fill the room. when he sets eyes on you and liv, he smiles brightly and leans against the bartop.

“hey, you two! glad you finally showed up!” he shouts over the music. “jungle juice?”

liv nods enthusiastically, mimicking his posture and crossing her arms on top of the counter. “yes please! any chances you have jello shots tonight too?”

the boy looks around before he leans in closer to answer. “don’t tell anyone else, but i made some just for you two since you’re my favorite customers.”

liv rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep, but she’s smiling anyways. “we’re not customers, jun. you’re not even getting paid to do this. when are you gonna stop acting like you’re a real bartender, huh?”

he clenches his hand over his heart and stumbles backwards, feigning pain. “you wound me so, liv. i did something nice for you and this is how you repay me. i can’t believe this!”

but in the midst of his monologue, he bends over to open a mini fridge behind the bar and returns with a couple of jello shots. he tells you to take them here while he gets your drinks and hide them the best you can so nobody gets up in arms that he’s providing something outside of the night’s menu. he’s always been especially nice to you, mostly because of liv and his undying love for her (though platonic or romantic, you’ve never been exactly sure about), so it’s all you can do to thank him and listen to his pleads for secrecy regarding the contraband jello shots. when he’s back above bar, you switch off, him discreetly tossing the small cups in the trash.

liv, finally armed with her precious red solo cup, turns to talk to some other friends, leaving you and yeonjun alone. the music is so loud you can hardly keep your thoughts straight, which is great for keeping your mind off of what liv said earlier, but doesn’t last long when yeonjun leans in ever closer, his cologne enveloping you entirely.

“you should thank heeseung for the jello shots, by the way. i honestly hadn’t even thought to make some for you and liv because i was busy with other stuff, but he asked about making some since he knows they’re your favorite.”

your heart clenches a little at the idea that heeseung wanted to make sure that you had things you liked at his frat’s party. it’s nice to have someone looking out for small things like that, even if it means breaking a rule or two. yeonjun rests his hand on top of your head and pats gently, a knowing look in his eyes.

“listen, i know that you swear up and down the wall that you and him are just friends, but for what it’s worth, he likes you a lot. he just won’t say it. you know him. he’s kinda bad with words. it’s not really my place to make his confession for him, but just… you know. give him a chance.”

you nod dumbly and give him a half-baked smile when he pulls his hand off your head. a few girls walk up, vying for their own drinks, so you take that as your cue to walk away, red solo cup cradled in your hands. any hope of not thinking about heeseung lee has been completely undone by both liv and yeonjun.

suddenly, you are far too sober.

two hours later, you’re five drinks in, only kept track of by the cups you have in your hand, and you’re feeling pleasantly buzzed. the lights are a little brighter, the music a little louder, liv’s arm hot and grounding around your shoulders. she’s completely gone, despite the fact that she’s only had three cups of jungle juice. she’s serenading you with dancing queen by abba, somehow getting every single word wrong.

“fuck, i’m way too drunk for this,” she says, breaking off a line in the middle of the second verse. “i’ll sing for you next time. promise.”

you laugh and lean against her, shaking your head. “okay, livvie. sounds good.” you’re content to end your sentence there, but you have an increasing awareness of how hot it’s gotten. the amount of people packed into the basement, especially in the center of the dancefloor like this, has contributed greatly to the heat and you need some time to cool down before it makes you sick. “listen, ‘m gonna get some air. ‘t’s getting really hot.”

liv nods and hugs you to her, voice chipper but slurred heavily. “‘kay! i’ll see you in a few.” she lets you go and breaks out into the next song, somehow worse than dancing queen.

you slip out of the crowd, already feeling a little cooler now that you’ve escaped from the hot press of bodies. standing on the outskirts of the dancefloor, you consider your options. there’s the open window that a cool breeze passes through or the door by yeonjun’s bar, which you know leads directly outside with a staircase up to the back deck. while you initially planned to be within arm’s reach for liv’s sake, your ears are starting to ring from the loud music and the choice is made for you.

you wave to yeonjun as you make your way towards the door. he pauses and leans over to ask you if you’re leaving, looking a little concerned, but you shake your head and tell him what you told liv. and then you tack on the information that she’s incredibly drunk, so he should watch out for her because knowing her, she’ll be tapping out sooner rather than later. he nods in understanding and lets you go, turning back to the two frat guys, jake and chan, that are standing at the bar.

the temperature difference between the basement and outside right now is jarring, but welcomed nonetheless. you carefully traverse the stairs, not quite confident in yourself to take them confidently, seeing as your sight is currently swimming a little and your head is light. getting to the top is a feat and you feel immediately better once you’re on the back deck.

you’re so out of it that you don’t realize you aren’t alone as you lean against the railing, reveling in the way the wood digs into your forearms and the chill bites at you through the sheer long sleeves of your black shirt. you’re still very much buzzed, but you feel a little more clear-headed now that you can hear yourself think.

the sound of your name startles you and you swear you jump ten feet in the air before you whip around, hand against your heart. heeseung is halfway out the back door, a cup in his hand and that deer caught in the headlights expression you’ve come to know well over the last month or so.

“jesus, heeseung. you scared the shit out of me!” you say, catching your breath and leaning back against the railing.

“i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to!” he finishes stepping out of the house and onto the deck with you, the door swinging shut behind him. he’s so earnest in his apology that you can’t help but smile, dropping your hand and instead taking a sip from your drink that you carried out here with you.

“you have a habit of sneaking up on me, huh?”

he joins you at the railing, leaning against it the way you are, and raises his own cup to his lips (perfect and plush and pink… enough of that). he shrugs as he drinks, wincing when it goes down rougher than he expected. the liquid that sloshes against the side is not the same color as yours, so you can only assume that one of the guys gave him something a little stronger than whatever they threw together for the jungle juice.

“i guess so,” he says through a small cough. “i don’t mean to, if that makes it any better.”

you laugh a little, nudging him with your shoulder. “it’s not a big deal, if that makes you feel better. i think it’s kinda funny.”

heeseung smiles at that and nods, keeping his eyes trained on the drink in his cup. it’s only when you’re committing his side profile to drunken memory that you realize the blush that’s crept up the back of his neck onto his cheeks and the tip of his ears. except, that sober voice inside your head argues it could just be from the cold.

but neither of you have been out long enough for that to be the case. it’s not even that cold out here, just a little bit chilly. drunk you is having sneaking suspicions, ones that sober you would never entertain, and this is the first time you’re seeing heeseung at one of his frat’s parties, so you might as well take advantage of it all as much as you can.

“yeonjun told me what you did… the jello shots for me and liv, i mean,” you clarify the second you realize how the first sentence sounds without context. “thanks. i didn’t think you were really paying attention to that kind of stuff.”

heeseung turns his head to look at you, eyes a little wide but that soft, perfect smile offsets it nicely. he looks a little surprised that you found out about it, but not upset that yeonjun mentioned it.

“well… i mean, of course i do. that’s kinda… what i do, you know?”

he’s beating around the bush. yeonjun was right; heeseung never talks about his feelings and he sure as hell won’t offer you the words you’re waiting to hear right now. so, drunk you reasons, why is the only way to confess through words? he’s shown you how much he cares, he’s been doing it for weeks now. maybe you were suppressing your own feelings to keep liv off your back about it all, but in doing so, you’ve been diminishing heeseung’s own attempts at telling you.

this whole thing with him has never been simply friends. love at first sight feels a little much, but you certainly have something between you and you have for weeks on end at this point. maybe it’s time to reward this beautiful boy for being so patient with you.

just as he’s beginning to turn his head away to look back towards the house, you set your cup on the railing and capture his face in your hands. there’s no moment for either of you to process what’s happening, just that one minute there’s a platonic amount of distance between you and the next, your lips are on his and it is warm and unpracticed and still unbelievably perfect. heeseung goes pliant and soft under your touch, his free hand resting gently on the small of your back. his fingers curl gently into your shirt, tethering himself to you. his other hand is still grasping his solo cup and you find yourself wishing he’d just drop the damn thing, even if it means the both of your shoes get soaked in whatever he’d been served (whiskey, you’d guess, from the smokey taste on his tongue).

he’s the first to pull away, eyes still closed for moments after. his breaths come shallow and his cheeks have gone impossibly red, his hand still against your back. you study him from this angle, closer than you’ve ever been, and somehow, you’re finding him prettier than ever before. maybe it’s the alcohol talking or the sudden lovesickness for him, but you don’t care because you finally kissed heeseung lee and left him breathless.

“what- um… what was that for?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering open. his pupils are blown wide and awestruck (you think that’s the right word in your jungle juice induced haze).

you shrug, inching yourself a little closer towards him. he turns to meet you so your bodies run parallel to each other and finally sets his offending cup on the railing next to yours. “got tired waiting for you t’make a move.”

he makes a sound in the back of his throat and turns his head to look elsewhere, as if looking at you might make him drop dead. any doubt you had from earlier in the night that he’d told yeonjun that he liked you is swept away in a single moment; he can deny it all he wants now, but you already know the truth, so what’s the point?

“liv told me that she heard through the grape vine that you liked me…” you say softly, voice trailing off into the muffled sounds of a kesha song blasting in the basement. “is that… true?”

you watch as he draws a deep breath, squeezes his eyes closed, steels himself for whatever answer he’s about to give. with all your liquid courage now, confessing might not have been a big deal, but you know that if you’d been sober, it would be just as hard as this. but you swear you saw him drinking jungle juice down in the basement an hour and a half ago, and now he’s drinking something stronger, so he must be so naturally shy that not even alcohol can wipe it out.

finally, he lets his breath out and focuses his attention on you again, his eyes soft and pleading. don’t break my heart. please.

“yeah… yeah, i got a little drunk last weekend and told yeonjun that i thought i had feelings for you when he got me back to my dorm. i’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable or if it ruins our friendship. i j–”

you kiss him again, hot and heavy and full of longing and words you don’t dare voice because you’ve liked him for a long time too; you were just too afraid to admit it to yourself. but now he’s spilling his heart out and you’d rather walk barefoot through broken glass before you let him go on thinking for a second longer that his feelings aren’t reciprocated tenfold.

you step impossibly closer, your bodies pressed tight and heavy, the seam unbreakable. heeseung’s hands (both thank god) rest on your waist, holding you close. he bristles under your touch as you leave one hand on his shoulder and the other sneaks around to the nape of his neck, fingers curling into the fine, soft hair there. your nails scratch lightly against his scalp and his chest shudders against yours, some small, refined gasp of approval passing from his mouth to yours as he takes his turn to kiss the breath out of you.

it’s a tiny noise, barely noticeable, barely passing as a soft breathy moan. but you hear it and it’s embarrassingly enough to have your knees going a little weak. well, it’s not just that minuscule noise; it’s everything, it’s the way heeseung’s lips move against your own with an uncharacteristic amount of surety, the way his fingers have slipped under your shimmery black top (a “donation” from liv’s closet last homecoming), the way you can feel his body coming alive under your attention. if this is going where you think it’s going, the dreams you’ve been having about him at least once a week since you first met are about to come true.

heeseung is the first to break away again, but he looks less nervous than the first time. no, this time he looks flushed and tousled and so attractive it should be illegal. when he shifts his weight from his left to right foot, his body brushes against you and the heat of him is unmistakable. even if you couldn’t feel it, you can see the way his eyelids flutter and feel the way his chest shudders against yours. you can’t help yourself; you need him.

“come back to my dorm,” you whisper breathlessly, words manifesting physically in a cloud of fog. “please.”

the boy squeezes his eyes shut again, looks up towards the sky, draws that deep breath he’s so fond of right now. you almost back out, almost say it was a joke; he just confessed his feelings and you kissed twice, so maybe it’s all a little much for him. you really like him and you don’t want to scare him off; besides, what you’re feeling right now is nothing you can’t take care of on your own back in your dorm room. just as you’re about to tell him that he can say no, he’s seemingly talked himself up enough because he looks down at you, smiles, kisses you on his own accord, and then takes your hand.

“lead the way,” he says.

you and heeseung stop at least five times on the way back to your dorm room to makeout, giggling into each other’s mouths as he presses you against a tree on the greens or as you pull him into the pools of darkness between streetlamps. every moment has him growing more confident, more certain that this isn’t just a hookup or a dream.

somewhere along the way, you text liv and tell her that you’re heading home because you’re not feeling well. it’s not farfetched, seeing as you’d broken away from her in the first place because you were feeling too hot. what happened between your departure and when the text is sent is entirely irrelevant right now. what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her and she’ll hear about it sooner rather than later anyways.

it takes you maybe a full twenty minutes to reach your building, a feat considering how drunk you are and how obsessed you’ve been with heeseung for the last half hour. you fully expected it to take longer, but now, you stand under the golden glow of the entry to your dorm building, heeseung unlocking the door for you because you’re a little too gone right now and unwilling to take your hands off him,standing next to him, your arms hugging his free one while you lean your cheek against his shoulder. he fumbles with the key, muttering about how they should change to a keycard system instead, but he gets it eventually and you’re in.

after that, it’s practically a mad dash up to your dorm room on the third floor. your hand is twined tight around heeseung’s as you lead him up the stairs, too impatient to take the elevator right now. somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re glad that you took the time to clean your room today after class; heeseung will see a polished side of you, one that puts laundry away as soon as they’re out of the dryer, one that has glowing golden fairy lights above the window that gild your room in warmth, one that leaves books and binders stacked neatly in the shelf on your desk. not that he’ll be paying attention to any of it anyways, what with the way you can feel his cock pressing incessantly against you as you unlock your bedroom door, hot and straining.

agonizing seconds stretch into what feels like even more agonizing hours, but eventually, you get the door unlocked and guide him inside, stepping into the glow of your string lights that you’d left on before you left. you don’t even have to turn yourself around to look at him because he does it for you, turning you by your waist, pressing you fast against the back of the now-closed door.

his mouth is on yours in an instant, tongue swiping over your bottom lip, no doubt tasting the fruit punch yeonjun had added to tonight’s jungle juice recipe concoction. his hands are on your waist, curling hot into your skin, black mesh of your shirt scratching against you. it’s nice, how respectful he’s being right now, still ever the gentleman he’s been for the last month, but you don’t want nice and respectful right now. you’ve had literal dreams about this since you met him, driving your attraction to him higher with every one; you want mean and messy and rough, and that’s what you’ll get if it’s the last thing you do.

so in a bid to urge him towards where you’re really hoping this night goes, you grab at one of his wrists and drag his hand up to your chest, pressing his palm against your breast. you can feel his breath hitch against you and you smile into the kiss because how can he still be so shy when he’s kissed the breath out of you at least five times in the last forty-five minutes? either way, he gives a tentative squeeze and it feels mind blowingly good; you’ve never been one to really care much about attention focused on your tits, but heeseung makes it feel like maybe you should.

you get lost in the feeling of his lips on yours, one of his hands kneading at your chest, the other slowly slipping under your top, rough fingertips drawing up and down the skin of your stomach, so far gone that you don’t notice the thigh he’s slotted between your legs until he grinds it up against you. it’s sudden and so well-earned, some much needed friction that you’ve been craving since that second kiss on the deck in lambda rho’s backyard. he does it a second time, the hard plane of his thigh coming up hard against your clit, and your knees buckle a little, dropping you further onto him. you moan sweetly into his mouth, tilting your head back against the door as the hand on your waist works your hips against him with a scary but uncharacteristic practiced certainty. he takes the absence of your mouth against his to trail kisses on your neck, his teeth dragging along the sensitive skin, nipping and leaving love bites in his wake.

a well aimed grind of your hips, guided singularly by the boy in front of you, has you falling forward against his chest, your forehead pressed into the junction between his shoulder and neck. you keen against him in frustration, the crest rising but not breaking, no matter how hard to try to get it to.

“seung,” you cry against his skin, fingers curling tight into his sweater. “need more please.”

you almost sob in relief when you feel him nod against your neck, more so when you notice his own hips are stuttering against your leg that is bracketed by his. it’s enough to make you moan, the idea of him needing it just as much as you that he’s trying to hold himself back from getting off on your thigh too.

pressing your palms flat against his chest, you guide heeseung backwards in the direction of your bed (which you’re very suddenly glad you haven’t lofted). when the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, he makes quick work of kicking his shoes off and then scrambling up so that his back rests against the wall. you follow suit, toeing off your party shoes and crawling onto his lap where he’s waiting patiently, his eyes wide and the browns of his eyes drowned out by his pupils. he’s breathing hard, chest heaving.

he looks up at you as you situate yourself, his hands coming to rest on your waist again. the expression on his face is nothing short of worshipful, like you’re a deity here to wrench your well-earned respect from his hands. and he is clearly ready to hand it over without a single fight. he guides you down onto him and you follow his hands willingly, your thighs straddling his and your clothed cunt just barely grazing against his hard-on until you settle down completely in his lap, not a centimeter of distance between you. the friction and pressure have both of you gasping wordlessly and heeseung tugs desperately at your hips. you fall into him, arms around his neck and pulling him to meet you halfway, lips locked once more. you give a tentative roll of your hips and heeseung moans into your mouth, just the reaction you were anticipating.

“fuck,” he moans the second time you do it. “you’re so good.”

you’re already hot, seared through to the bone, but you feel yourself go even warmer under heeseung’s praise. you’ve imagined this a million times over the last few weeks, but nothing could ever compare to the real thing. you kiss him harder, breathe him in deep to prove to yourself that this is real, that heeseung lee is under you right now, bucking his hips up into you and matching your movements, about to make you come just from a little bit of dry humping. it would be embarrassing if you weren’t both half-gone and ridiculously desperate.

you continue to rut against him, panting hot and heavy into his mouth as he swallows every single moan and whimper you let out just to return them tenfold, his hands working you over him with a rushed ease. every roll of your hips is met with his own presses upwards. he’s working you higher and higher with each move, closer to the precipice, and while you’ve never before thought you’d find yourself in a position like this, if heeseung makes you come without taking a single item of clothing off either of you, then so be it.

as if he’s read your thoughts, he presses you back and away from him. you open your eyes for the first time in minutes and take him in: messy hair, flushed cheeks, bruised lips. no wet dream could have ever prepared you for how beautiful he looks right now.

but no matter how pretty you think he is in this moment, the sudden absence of friction has you whining loudly, pitched high and tight. when you speak, your voice trembles out of frustration. “heeseung, why’d you stop?”

he sucks in a breath and moves to push at your shoulders some more. “don’t- fuck- don’t wanna come yet, not like this.”

if you weren’t already so fucked out, you would have giggled, but right now, you just feel exasperated. he’s right; you don’t want to come like this either, but you’d also come to terms with it because it would mean that you would at least be getting the release you’re so desperately craving. and that’s been ripped away from you, at least for the moment. but when he looks up at you again, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes still wide with need, you fold immediately.

“tell me what you want.” he’s practically begging you and it sends a thrill through you, liquid lightning straight to your heart. “please.”

and how can you deny him when he’s asked you so sweetly or when you’re just as needy as he is? at this point, whatever he’d offer, you would take gladly. he’s gazing at you now, waiting anxiously for an answer, not that you have a set one; you want him in any way he wants you, nothing else matters more than that. but you take in his swollen lips and lithe fingers and your mind is off to the races.

“i-” you start, but stumble over your words. you’d been incredibly forward when you’d kissed him first, but you’ve lost all of that fire now. you can’t bring yourself to ask for what you want, even though you’re certain he’d do anything you’d ask of him.

“c’mon,” he coaxes, fingers kneading into your shoulders to ground you. “whatever you want.”

the sound of his voice is earnest, nothing short of honest, and it makes you want to trust him more than anything. so you do. you draw in a steadying breath and curl your hands into his sweater as you work yourself up to it.

“will you-” another breath. “would you eat me ou-”

“yes,” he immediately answers. you don’t even get a chance to finish the question. “fuck. i thought you’d never ask.”

he moves his hands to cup your face and pulls you into him, kissing you sweetly, his nose bumping against yours. the minuscule break in sexual tension, while in most situations would be a mood killer, is nice because it just further cements that this isn’t some random one night stand; you want to see him every day for the rest of your life after this, if he’ll let you.

somewhere between the kiss and when he breaks away from you, he’s maneuvered you so that you’re laying back against your pillows. you’ve also managed to discard your shirt (thank god, the glitter and mesh combo was starting to irritate your skin something fierce) and he’s working to get your pants off, fingers fumbling with the button; it’s as frustrating as it is adorable and he swats your hands out of the way when you reach down to help him, deadset on doing it himself, which he does manage (eventually, after a few incredibly long moments). you help him shimmy down your jeans and panties by lifting your hips a little and then you are inarguably bare in front of him, a position you’d never imagined you would be in.

and maybe heeseung is a little wonderstruck too because for a few long seconds, he sits there and stares at you in all your naked glory (or nearly naked glory, seeing as you haven’t taken your bra off yet, but he doesn’t seem to mind). you’re starting to get a little bashful and have to nudge him with a bent knee to pull him out of his stupor. he’s impossibly red at the tips of his ears as he murmurs a sweet apology that comes accompanied by a “you’re just so pretty.”

before you can muster a reply, he’s situating himself between your legs, hands pressing softly against your inner thighs to draw them apart, set eyes on his real destination. you lift your head just a little bit, watching as his eyes widen as he takes all of you in, his breath hot against your folds. his fingers curl tight into the soft skin of your thighs and you whimper at the sting, equally painful as it is exhilarating. he makes an indistinguishable groan in the back of his throat before he’s completely devouring you.

plenty of your wet dreams about the boy between your legs right now have included this very scenario: his nose bumping carelessly against your clit, a suddenly confident tongue making a show of licking up all of your arousal, your thighs already trembling. but they never could have prepared you for the actual thing because he’s giving you what is quite possibly the best head you’ve ever had.

heeseung is eating you out like a man starved, it’s absolutely obscene. his tongue works you up fast, every little moan he lets out only contributing. somewhere in the midst, he says something that sounds like “you taste s’good,” but his words are drowned out by your own moans and the sound of his mouth working you over. every pass of his tongue over your folds is as close as you’ve ever gotten to heaven, but you’re lacking something to really shove you over that precipice; and now you know heeseung is so whipped he’ll do anything you ask him to.

“seung,” you gasp out breathlessly, untangling one hand from your comforter so you can wind your fingers into his hair. he looks up at you, doe eyes big and wide and glimmering with his eyebrows drawn together, a questioning look without pulling away to speak. you’re about to ask him when his nose bumps hard against your terribly sensitive clit and your word breaks off before the first syllable can even leave your lips. “fuck— seung, can you— can you add your fingers?”

you’re not quite used to asking for what you want, at least verbally; maybe it’s because any previous partners weren’t keen on getting you to verbalize, maybe it’s because they never particularly cared and just did what they thought was good. but heeseung is pliant and willing to please in any way he can, so you feel less embarrassed this time around because he’s made it entirely clear that your pleasure is his main priority.

he doesn’t nod, doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes again and goes back to work. you almost think he either didn’t hear you or is straight up ignoring you before you feel it. he pulls his hand from your right thigh slowly, letting his fingertips drag lightly against your skin; the menace is teasing you, where did that come from? but you don’t even have much time to internally complain about him holding out on you because he’s suddenly slipping two fingers into you, long, deft limbs that expertly seek out that spot inside you. he presses against it once, twice, three times, each one drawing out a whine from you.

it’s just what you need, the extra friction pushing you up that incline, closer and closer to the dropoff. when your back arches off the bed and your thighs close around his head, boxing him in against your pussy, heeseung knows he’s got you right where you want to be and then he doesn’t let up. it’s an onslaught of pressure, four different points of sensation, and you’re on the verge of tears. he’s making a complete mess of you, utilizing all he can to get you over that edge. you’re whining his name like it’s the only word you know, “yes” and “fuck” and “oh my god” getting lost in your slurred speech; he’d be evil incarnate if he denied you what you’re so beautifully begging for.

he presses incessantly at that spongy place inside you, nose bumping against your little bundle of nerves, moans growing more frequent, all while his tongue tries to catch every single drop of arousal. and then there you go, ecstasy taking over like liquid heat in your veins. his name sounds like pure euphoria on your tongue, mixed with your moans and whines. he thinks he could come just from this alone, your cum in his mouth and your thighs pressed tight around him, but he holds off because there’s only one place he wants to leave his release (if you’ll let him, that is).

“shit.”

you sound fucked out, completely gone and heeseung swears he’s never heard anything sexier. you tug at his hair a little bit, feeling completely overstimulated but still so good, a shock to your system as he pulls his fingers out of you and lets his tongue work over you just a little bit longer (to make sure you’re clean, he reasons to himself).

eventually, he does pull away and you have to fight the urge to whine again. his eyes are unfocused and glossed over, his chin practically dripping in your arousal. hell, his tongue darts out to get the last little bit of your cum at the corner of his lips and you nearly orgasm all over again.

“was it good?” he asks softly and you barely hold yourself back from laughing. he just made you come harder than any previous partner ever has, given you the best head in the world, and he’s asking you if it was good? he’s insane for thinking it was anything short of perfect.

but you don’t say that. you reach for his sweater, fingers curling tight into the cotton and tugging him down towards you. he catches himself by his hands, his arms bracketing you easily, before he completely crashes into you. there’s a long moment where he just stares down at you, lovestruck and pretty, before he lowers himself to kiss you. you can taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you moan a little bit, feeling a little embarrassed, but one of his hands moves from its place on the mattress to cradle your cheek and that alone drives it away.

one of your arms sneaks over his shoulder, your fingers tangling into the damp hair at the nape of his neck, while the other sneaks under his sweater, the shirt he wears underneath until the tips of your fingers brush the soft, pliant skin of his stomach. you can feel the gentle ridges of abs and a small piece of you shivers with giddiness. regardless, you enjoy a few seconds of running your fingers over his stomach before you push a little more incessantly at the offending pieces of material. he takes it for what it is: a plea to get rid of the clothes. after all, it’s not fair that you’re almost entirely undressed and he hasn’t taken a single article off.

you watch dazedly as heeseung sits back onto his heels, your eyes following his arms as he crosses them over himself, grasps at the hems, pulling them over his torso, his arms, his head before they land haphazardly on the floor next to your bed. every inch revealed to you makes your mouth water, his skin taut and soft and glowing in your fairy lights. you can’t help but remind yourself that dreams and an overactive imagination could never live up to the real thing because he’s very much the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

you’re entirely prepared to continue your makeout session, but heeseung seems to have other ideas because once his tops are discarded, he begins making work of his jeans. you make a soft noise in the back of your throat when you realize what he’s doing and he looks up at you, fingers stilling at his belt, his eyes wide.

“is something wrong?”

he sounds so sincere, it kind of makes you want to cry. but you shake your head earnestly, propping yourself up on your elbows so you can look at him better. “no, no! everything is fine. i guess i just wasn’t expecting you to take your pants off so soon.”

he quirks an eyebrow at you and dons that pretty little smile of his, teasing but not really. “well, you’re almost completely undressed. figured it was only right that i do the same, y’know?”

and you laugh a little because it’s true and because he’s just so cute, he laughs too, soft and quiet. you generally think sleeping with someone is fun, but you’ve never had as much fun as you are right now. maybe it’s because it’s with heeseung and you like him so much already, so the playfulness comes easy; it doesn’t feel tense the way it has with others.

so you watch him handle his belt, the button on his jeans, the zipper. you watch, mouth watering once more, as he slips out of them, leaving his boxers, which have a dark wet patch on them. the sight alone would make you groan, but you can see the outline of his cock and you almost lose it completely. so you decide to resume the impatient act because you are still very much so; as cute as the playful routine is, you haven’t forgotten the exhilarating rush of trying to get to your dorm as fast as possible and the unpracticed fumbling that’s followed since then.

you reach for him and he doesn’t hesitate, letting you pull him on top of you by his shoulders, fitting your mouths together in a messy kiss, all teeth and tongues. your hands are in his hair again, his own slide underneath you to make work of your bra, unclasping it and then pulling the straps away from your shoulders, down your arms, making you let go of him for a quick few seconds so that he can pull it off completely and toss it god knows where in your room.

you’re distantly aware that you’re entirely bare to him now, but his mouth is working at your throat, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin of your neck (he is strangely good at distracting you, you’re learning), so you don’t feel as shy as you did just a handful of minutes ago. either way, he’s sucking hickies into your shoulders, your collarbones, any skin that has a little bit of give to it that lets him leave love bites in his wake. so lost in the haze, you realize a little too late that he’s working his way towards your chest, but it doesn’t even matter, not when he has one hand kneading at one and his mouth at the other, tracing lines over your skin to quell the sting of each pinch, each little nip of teeth. your nipples pebble under his attention and while this never usually does much for you, you still find yourself getting antsy because it’s heeseung. everything he’s done for weeks has gotten you worked up, why would that stop now?

it doesn’t help that he’s grinding against you, his hips canting against your own for any semblance of friction. your arousal is no doubt contributing to the wet patch on his boxers and the idea of it almost has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. his cock feels hot and heavy against your folds, the head bumping against your clit, and all of it feels so delicious that you let out a crisp, high whine, twining your fingers into heeseung’s soft hair and tugging gently.

he pulls himself away from your chest and when you look at him, you almost moan. his lips are swollen, slick with spit, and his gaze has gone misty. he looks at you expectantly, blinking slow and lips pouted as he waits. you’re not even sure what you want from him right now, at least nothing specific because you want everything from him. you’re about to tell him to go back to doing what he was originally because it did feel good, but then he lands a particularly well-timed grind against you and you’re gasping.

“fuck,” you whimper, tossing your head back a little. your fingers tighten in his hair and from somewhere south of you, he laughs a little, light and easy and airy.

“that what you want from me?” he questions, pulling himself up over you, catching your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. in any other situation, it might come off as intimidating and teasing, but heeseung is all doe-eyed and halfway to heaven right now, so it comes off more desperate to please than anything. either way, you nod. “all you had to do was ask. you know that.”

you nod and pull him down to kiss you by the fingers you have twisted in his hair. he groans against you, moving his hand from your chin to your jaw, angling you just so. somewhere in the kiss, you murmur a soft, “seung, i want you,” and he groans a little, nodding against you. he pulls away and you chase after him, but he’s sitting up, moving lightning quick to get his boxers off, abandoned somewhere on the linoleum floor with everything else.

and then it hits you that you’re both completely bare. you lean back on your elbows, looking him over once more, though your focus lingers mostly on the skin newly revealed to you. his thighs are toned and sturdy, the skin plush, and while you’d love to stare at them a little bit more, your attention is quickly drawn to his dick. it’s big, the head an agitated red and leaking precum, and your mouth is watering at the thought of getting him in your position and giving him the best head of his life.

you actually start to move to do so, but heeseung anticipates it and moves quick, pressing you back into your mattress. his dark doe eyes are drowning in desire and you shudder under his gaze. he’s on you again instead, hips melded to yours in your nth kiss tonight. he’s got his weight rested on one elbow beside your head while his other arm is free to move around, his hand tracing from your shoulder, your chest, smoothing across your stomach.

his fingers eventually land on your thigh, curling into the soft inner flesh, and he hikes it up around his waist before dropping his hand to his cock. his lips trail from your lips to your neck and shoulders, nipping at the skin as he jerks himself off. you toss your head back against your pillows, whimpering at every little graze of his teeth against your skin.

but what’s really driving you crazy is the heat of him against you. the head of his cock bumps against your clit, this time with no fabric barrier separating them, and you’re not sure if heeseung is even meaning for the touch, but it has you feeling hot all over again, slick leaking out of you again. you’re getting impatient, heel pressing hard into his lower back and your fingernails biting into the flesh of his biceps.

“heeseung,” you whine out, canting your hips up against his; you hear him suck in a breath through clenched teeth, a hiss of air. “need you.”

he shivers against you, a teary whimper of “need you too” granted in return as he pulls his face from your neck so that he can watch you as he finally gets to what you’ve wanted since this whole thing started. on a short teasing streak, he taps the head of his cock against your clit and you whine, turning your head into your pillow and curling your fingers into his arms, which earns a laugh.

“stop playing,” you tell him, rolling your hips upwards and into him.

he hisses again and bites at his bottom lip, nodding. he slips from your clit to your entrance and even just the little shred of pressure you get has you wanting to moan out for him. but then he starts pressing in all the way, slipping into your cunt with ease and you are not prepared for just how full you feel. your back arches and he lets off a tempered moan, stifled through a lip bite. when he bottoms out, his hips flush with your own, you release a breath as you adjust to the size of him, which doesn’t take long.

“seung,” you drawl, grabbing his attention. “move please.”

and he does as you bid, pulling out before he thrusts back in. it takes a few moments for him to find a pace that works, but when he does, it’s perfect. his hips roll against yours delectably, the sounds of skin meeting skin and your shared moans filling the small dorm room. he’s shored up over you, one elbow pressed deep into the thin mattress holding him up, and when your eyes aren’t squeezed tight in ecstasy, you watch the way he bites his lip, furrows his eyebrows, shudders as you clench around him.

“god, you’re s’tight. feels so good,” he whimpers at one point, his head hanging over your own as he tries to keep a steady pace. his words are shattered, breaking off in the middle or slurred together, a verbal manifestation of how you physically feel.

one thrust hits that just right spot inside you and you can’t hold but moan loudly, back arching off the mattress and your head pressing into your pillows. heeseung inhales sharply above you as you clench tight around him and then, with you still keening, you feel him sit up, taking his warmth with him. his hands are on your hips seconds later and he’s angling you, doing everything in his power to replicate it again and again.

“fuck, i’ve wanted this for so long,” he says, one hand on your thigh and the other working deft fingers on your clit. he’s a quick learner it seems because all of it is coming together to whisk your orgasm closer, a wave of white heat washing over you. “saw you at my frat’s halloween party ‘nd thought you were so pretty. woulda come up t’you that night if i knew you felt this good.”

your breath hitches more than it has all night and you cant your hips upwards in an attempt to meet his thrusts. somewhere in the midst of your pleasure, you tell him you’re going to come and he nods fast, fingers going into overtime to get you there. that knot inside you winds up tight and then snaps like a rubber band stretched too thin, hot and fast. your pussy locks around his cock and then he’s there above you, bracing himself with his hand, to swallow the particularly sharp whine of his name you let out and any stray too-loud moans that might slip away and wake the neighbors (as if you haven’t already).

when your vision finally clears and your thighs stop trembling, his hips are still snapping into yours to seek his own release, pushing you into the territory of overstimulation, but any pain you have bleeds into pleasure until you can’t tell which is which; the only thoughts you can manage are that heeseung feels heavenly inside you that it’s almost blinding and you don’t know if you even really want him to stop.

but his hips begin to stutter, his cock twitching against your fluttering walls, and you faintly register that he’s about to pull out of you. blindly, your hand searches for any part of him to pull him back over you, legs locking around his waist. he protests, some flurry of words about how he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable (not a single one intelligible), while you whine and pull him towards you by his shoulder.

“wanna feel you, seung,” you say, a limp arm winding around him and inching him closer until your noses are brushing and you can feel his breath fanning across you, still smelling faintly of his alcohol from earlier. “don’t worry about it, ‘kay? y’said you’d do anything, so please. i wanna feel you s’bad.”

that seems to be enough to egg him on because he nods and you catch him in a messy kiss before he groans against your lips as he finally comes. he lands a few more sharp thrusts that have you whining, fucking his cum into you, before he finally falls still. his breath is hot on your shoulder as he recovers.

usually, once you’re done, your select partner of the night pulls out, maybe cleans you up, and then leaves. it’s been a while since you’ve had someone who wants to stay (at least, you hope heeseung wants to stay) and you’re not quite sure where to go from here. there hadn’t really been much discussion about where your relationship was going to lead after this, even with all of the lingering glances on campus and your impromptu study sessions at the library, so you’re worrying a little about what comes after.

stuck in your own head, you don’t even notice that heeseung has pulled his head from your shoulder and is looking at you until his thumb works your bottom lip out from beneath your teeth and then wipes away some of the sweat at your hairline. the furrow of his eyebrows carve deep lines into the space between them as he studies you, looking like an angel with the way the fairy lights strung up above him give him a faint golden halo.

“what’re you thinking about?” he asks softly, brushing his fingers across your cheek. it’s a wholly different energy than just a few minutes ago, but the change isn’t unwelcome.

you shrug, blinking up at him and reaching to push some of his hair out of his eyes, the strands matted to his forehead with sweat. “just wondering what we do now, i guess.”

heeseung’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles a little, his shoulders shaking with a breathy little laugh. you almost punch at his shoulder for laughing at you when he cranes his head down to kiss you gently, the first that isn’t rushed in some way. he nudges your nose with his when he pulls back just a little bit.

“can we worry about all the big stuff later?” he questions; you feel the words as much as you hear them, his lips barely brushing your own as he says them. “for now, how about we clean up first and then… i’m hungry. are you?”

it’s your turn to laugh, but you nod. you’re still a little drunk, your however many cups of jungle juice compared to his measly one whiskey.

“so we clean up and then go get taco bell? it’s, like, the only fast food place still open at this hour.”

“you do know that the line is gonna be insane, right? like, half of campus goes there after getting drunk.”

heeseung lets another quiet laugh loose and sits up, pulling you up with him and then into his lap, his dick still snug inside you. the feel of it doesn’t wind you up again like you thought it might, but it’s a nice reminder that he’s here, that this all actually happened. he rests a hand on your thigh and lets his thumb trace lines into the skin there absently.

“then i guess we’ll have time to talk about what you wanna do now,” he says sincerely, the smile on his face soft.

you have so many words you want to say, a million sentences tornadoing in your head right now, all jumbled up and lacking any sense of coherency. so instead, you cup his cheeks in your hands and return the kiss from just a few moments ago. he meets you halfway, all soft and pliant and giving, everything you could have dreamed up.

“wanna shower?” you ask when you pull away, giggling when he chases after you for another kiss. “feel like it might be a little more effective than a rag.”

the boy raises an eyebrow and eyes you suspiciously. “you tryin’ to go for a round two? because that’s what it sounds like right now.”

you push at his shoulders and laugh when he catches your wrists in his hands, pulling you into a third kiss. “wasn’t my intention, but i won’t turn down the idea.”

“i’ll think about it,” he responds as he taps at your hips and lifts you off of him. his seed starts to leak out with his cock no longer there to hold it in and you feel incomplete without him, but when he stands and offers you a hand to help you out of bed, suddenly the feeling of emptiness isn’t as oppressive.

you teeter across your room, opening the wardrobe to pull out the two towels you have and your shower caddy. heeseung accepts the towel you extend to him graciously, wrapping it around his waist. when you’re done securing your own towel, he’s already waiting for you by the door, one hand on the knob and the other reaching out towards you once you get close enough to him. and then you’re two people walking down the hall hand in hand, wrapped in matching pink towels towards the unisex bathroom. it’s a little unconventional, maybe, but you don’t think you’d have it any other way.

liv probably would though, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. heeseung’s your little secret after all.

#heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #heeseung smut #enhypen smut #kpop smut #writing.fic #smut.fic #stories.fic #heeseung.fic #enha.fic

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vanhelsingapologist · 3 months

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i was like man curse of strahd is going well but then someone got thrown into an oven so fuck me i guess

#cos: the sorority #dnd

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starry-eyed-kiddo · 5 months

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I may be the second, less important apprentice of Rudolph van Richten but Strahd hates me most so that’s gotta count for something.

#curse of strahd #cos: the sorority #pc: castiel cross #dnd #on god Strahd wants me dead #yeah i slit the throat of your beloved Tatyana (our Ireena PC) and she STILL escaped with me! get FUCKED #IT’S MISTER STEAL YOUR GIRL (platonically)

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mimi-0007 · 21 days

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Eva Beatrice Dykes (13 August 1893 – 29 October 1986) was a prominent educator and the third black American woman to be awarded a PhD.

Dykes was born in Washington, D.C., on August 13, 1893, the daughter of Martha Ann (née Howard) and James Stanley Dykes. She attended M Street High School (later renamed Dunbar High School). She graduated summa cum laude from Howard University with a B.A. in 1914. While attending Howard University, where several family members had studied, Eva was initiated into the Alpha chapter of Delta Sigma Theta. At the end of her last semester she was awarded Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority Incorporated's first official scholarship. After a short stint of teaching at Walden University in Nashville, Tennessee, Dykes attended Radcliffe College graduating magna cum laude with a second B.A. in 1917 and a M.A in 1918. While at Radcliffe she was elected to Phi Beta Kappa. In 1920 Dykes began teaching at Dunbar High School, and in 1921 she received a PhD from Radcliffe (now a part of Harvard University). Her dissertation was titled “Pope and His influence in America from 1715 to 1815”, and explored the attitudes of Alexander Pope towards slavery and his influence on American writers. Dykes was the first black American woman to complete the requirements for a doctoral degree, however, because Radcliffe College held its graduation ceremonies later in the spring, she was the third to graduate, behind Sadie Tanner Mossell Alexander (1921, University of Pennsylvania) and Georgiana R. Simpson (1921, University of Chicago).

After her graduation from Radcliffe in 1921, Dykes continued to teach at Dunbar High School until 1929 when she returned to Howard University as a member of the English Faculty. An excellent teacher, Dykes won a number of teaching awards during her 15 years of service at Howard University. Her publications include Readings from Negro Authors for Schools and Colleges co-authored with Lorenzo Dow Turner and Otelia Cromwell (1931) and The Negro in English Romantic Thought: Or a Study in Sympathy for the Oppressed (1942). In 1934 Dykes began writing a column in the Seventh-day Adventist periodical Message Magazine, this continued until 1984.

In 1920 Dykes joined the Seventh-day Adventist Church, and in 1944 she joined the faculty of the then small and unaccredited Seventh-day Adventist Oakwood College in Huntsville, Alabama, as the Chair of the English Department. She was the first staff member at Oakwood to hold a doctoral qualification and was instrumental in assisting the college to gain accreditation. Dykes retired in 1968 but returned to Oakwood to teach in 1970 and continued until 1975. In 1973 the Oakwood College library was named in her honor and in 1980 she was made a Professor Emerita. In 1975 the General Conference of the Seventh-day Adventist Church presented Dykes with a Citation of Excellence honouring her for an outstanding contribution to Seventh-day Adventist education. Dykes died in Huntsville on October 29, 1986, at the age of 93.

#black history #black literature #black tumblr #black excellence #black community #civil rights #black history is american history #black girl magic #blackexcellence365

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nevernonline · 1 month

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✧.* he's all that; lsm mini series

✧.*synopsis: every year the kappa sorority hosted a 'hot or not' greek life pageant show. you've luckily escaped having to bring your own "nottie" to give a makeover to and train in hopes of winning a big prize for the rest of your crew. but, just when you thought your lucky streak was going strong your name get's chosen as a representative and your sisters had just the guy for you to make over.

part of my seventeen movie series.

paring: seokmin x reader (y/n uses she/her pronouns.)

genre/s: fluff, strangers2lvrs, neighbors2lvrs or whatever.

warning/s: alcohol mentions, swearing, cigarette mentions, swearing, some pg-13 jokes. no funny business iykyk. lots of mean girls (rip)

word count: 4.2k

note: im notorious atp for not editing, pls. this edition of nmm is inspired by a true classic she's all that (w/ a bit of greek the tv show/sydney white energy if any of u have ever seen ALSO classics, this was supposed to be one part, BUT! I feel myself getting so carried away so … three parts.) i was going to post my gwag update today but im gonna wait till either tomorrow or Tuesday <3.

beginning ▸ middle ▸ end.

Y/n was dreading the meeting she walked through the front doors of the sorority for this afternoon, the pageant. Kappa and all the other sororities on Greek row participated in what they call ‘Hot or Not’ every year since supposedly the 1980’s something her now head sister Heather claims was started by the legacy that was her mother. Which maybe was true, but y/n could never figure out why it mattered? And while it was fun it was a little bit old school.

“Hey, girls. Everyone settled in? We have a very exciting tradition here at Kappa as you may know.”

The cheers rang through the sitting room, with its white walls, pale pink carpets, and sherpa couches, the cheers and claps of girls hoping Heather draws their name from the glass bowl with her perfectly manicured finger tips.

“Yes. It’s so exciting, we have a few new faces so since you haven’t been a part of this week in past years we left you out of the bowl, but we will have many things for you to participate in this week. Like dine and dash, our famous Good as Gold party, and of course judging the competition at the end of the week. Before we get to the drawing, I wanted to congratulate our last year's winner, Suni. Give it up for her.”

Smiling, y/n clapped along with the other girls, giving Suni her flowers. About to step out behind the two french doors to grab a water or something to drink, when you hear Heather call your name loudly. All of your other sisters and friends spinning around watching her looking like she was attempting to escape the reality of her name being the one chosen after three years of getting out of it.

“y/n! Finally, Come back here, girly.”

Walking through the clapping crown y/n took her place next to the blonde and pretended to smile with excitement as her gut was telling her it was absolutely the worst day of her life.

The only reason y/n was in this sorority was to get extra college credits, that and Heather and her mother met here and have been friends since that very day. Heather was obsessed with being a legacy and clawing her way to the top of the food chain at the university. Y/n was just there for the ride.

“Everyone, you all obviously know my very good friend and our smartest sister, y/n. I personally have been waiting for the day she got chosen out of this bowl. It’s something our moms, co-vp’s of their 1980’s class of Kappas have been talking about for years. So I’m just as excited as I’m sure y/n is to be our guiding light to another victory this year. Anything to say, y/n?”

“Uh, not really, you said it all.”

Another big fake smile appeared on her face. Laughing and giggling at all the congratulations coming her way.

“Girls, before we enjoy our lunch. Don’t forget tonight is dine and dash, please find your dates and bring them to Carol’s Diner at 8pm. See you there.”

Checking the time on your phone you had roughly 45 minutes before your lecture and enough time to take off the gaudy Kappa logo’d sweater you had to put on for what Heather calls “official business.”

“Y/n what are you checking the time for? We have a lot to do today.”

“I have a class in 40 minutes, I have to go back and change.”

“I don’t get why you won't just move back in here with us?”

“I told you, Heather. I can't. I have to focus on getting into Med School and no offense to you or the other girls, but this isn’t exactly the best place for me to focus when I have to study.”

“Med School can wait just one day right? We have to set up the table at Carol’s and set up for the party later. Would you mind going with the new girl Sam to grab the alcohol? And then you can meet me back here and we will go to the diner together. I’m going to have the girls go out and look for some Nottie’s for you today before that whale from Delta picks them all up. “

“No, but-”

“Thank you! Love you!”

“Also her name is not Sam, It’s Soyeon.”

“Okay got it, toodleoo.”

Searching the house for the person and so called new girl, Sam you stumbled upon her sitting out on the back patio writing in her journal.

“Soyeon?”

“Oh, hey y/n.

“Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, you didn’t. I’m just so used to everyone calling me Sam I forget people know that it’s actually not.”

“Yeah, it took Heather a whole year to not call Suni, Sunny and everyone just kind of follows her suit.”

“I thought you had class? I didn’t know you were still here.”

“I do. It’s just a lecture on the importance of mammograms and breast cancer research so, I guess it’s okay. I can just find it somewhere online.”

“Ready to head out?”

“Would you hate me if we stopped at my dorm? I cannot wear this fucking sweater for more than an hour or I may spontaneously combust.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to be seen with you in public while you’re wearing that.”

“I appreciate your honesty.”

“You should.”

Y/n and Soyeon escaped the general excitement of the rest of the girls by escaping out the outdoor gate and walked viciously together to change the heinous sweater on y/n’s back.

Turning the corner to finally reach the hall her single dorm room lived at the end of, she ran into a tall boy who’s books scattered all across the floor, a boy she had never once run into literally and physically.

“I'm so sorry.”

“No, no I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“You’re y/n right?”

“Yes? Why?”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that. I live across the hall from you. I see your name tag on your door all the time and all the photos of you from all your friends. Which now that I’m talking makes me sound like even more of a weirdo? I’m sorry. I’m Seokmin, my friends call me DK or Dokyeom , whatever. And now I’m rambling, please stop me.”

“No, you’re okay. Can we at least just get off the floor now?”

“Yes.”

Seokmin or Dokyeom whatever his real name actually is, crawled off the floor and stuck his hand out to you for assistance pulling your pink colored body off the floor.

“This is my friend, Soyeon.”

“Sorority sisters?”

“Wait. How’d you know? Oh, fuck the sweater. Don’t tell anyone you saw me wearing this, I know where you live.”

“Don’t worry, I never will. But, sorry to uh, cut this meeting short I have to get to class. I’ll see you again, I’m sure. Bye, nice meeting you y/n. And you too, Soyeon.”

“Bye.”

In unison you and Soyeon watched the tall boy walk towards the elevators. Both of you have differing expressions of looks on your face, one of pure enjoyment watching the awkward interaction and one of pure dumbfoundedness.

“He’s cute.”

Soyeon brought you out of staring at the boy walking away and stepping into the elevator, throwing his fingers up waving goodbye while clutching his mounds of books in his hands.

“What?”

“I said he’s cute and he’s your neighbor. Lucky girl.”

“Oh. Yeah, I can’t believe I’ve never met him before.”

“Why don’t you ask him out?”

“We just met. Plus, I’m busy with school and now this stupid pageant. I don’t have time for cute boys.”

“I’m sure you can make it work.”

Unlocking your door and letting Soyeon in before you so you can sneak a peek at his front door in front of yours. Plain, just a few funny messages and cute stickers of tangerines and tigers pasted on his whiteboard. Maybe he already has a girlfriend? But a boy like that with that many books is probably much like you and had no time for dating.

“Wait. Y/N your room is so nice? Maybe I should move out of the house. It’s loud as fuck anyway.”

“Why are you in the sorority? I’m not judging because I was basically dragged into it too. I’m just curious?”

“My mom always wanted me to join. She said it’s a good way to find friends, I always had a hard time making them. So I figured why not?”

“Got it. Makes sense.”

“What about you? You also don’t serve sorority girl to me.”

“Because my mom also got me to join, that’s actually how I know Heather. Our moms were co-captains of the sorority at some point in the 80’s.”

“Oh, so you’ve known her your whole life?”

“Mhm.”

“No offense or anything, but she’s… kind of a bitch.”

“Kind of? It’s only gotten worse since she’s been in charge. She was okay when we were younger, but you know.”

Slipping out of your jeans and sweater, you threw on a black pair of pleated pants and a loose white button down.

“Also you have tattoos and a sick body, stop dressing like an old woman.”

“I could never pull off what you wear? You’re so cool and confident.”

“Promise me. One party this year you’ll let me pick out something to wear?”

“Okay.”

“You’re very trusting.”

“What? You’re going to make me wear a hot pink dress and try to dye my hair blonde too?”

“Hell no.”

“Exactly.”

Hours passed on as you were getting to know Soyeon more, a part of you realized what you had been missing meeting girls outside of your own circle at school.

People who share your interests and enjoy talking about things other than clothes, shoes, and boys.

It was actually the least stressed you’ve been around someone at the sorority in a long time. Almost like a breath of fresh air.

Getting out of the Uber you took filled to the brim with alcohol and snacks, you were back at the big White House at the end of the street. Not a flaw in sight. Almost like it wasn’t a real reality.

“Should we ditch the diner? We could always go see my friend play at the bar across campus instead?”

“I would love nothing more, but Heather will have my head shaved or something.”

“Okay, well when we ditch later we can head there.”

“It’s a date.”

“Ew, you’re so corny. Save it for your new lover boy across the hall.”

“Shut up.”

Soyeon and you laughed, dragging the last box up the stairs into the foyer of the house. Met with the blonde at the bottom of the stairs.

“There you guys are! I was going to send a search and rescue team to come for you if you didn’t show up soon.”

“We got a little distracted. Sorry.”

“No problem. You’re here now, Sam go up and get ready, I’ll help y/n from here.”

“Okay.”

Soyeon or Sam, picked her poison and shoved down Heather still calling her by the wrong name and walked up to her room to change and get ready for the rest of her night. While you were stuck unpacking the boxes.

“Y/n. Don’t forget to look out for the boys everyone brings tonight. We can pick one from the litter for your Nottie.”

“Look, Heather-“

“I know what you’re going to say and don’t even think about asking me if you can drop out of the pageant, okay?”

“I just don’t think it’s worth it or fair anymore, why don’t we just get the other frat guys to do it? Like Mingyu or Wonwoo, Johnny? I don’t know. I don’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable.”

“You raise a good point. And it gives me an idea.”

“Which is?”

“We have the other frats competing too, we’ll get more payout and the three uglies will be more profitable than ever for us. You’re so smart.”

“That’s not wha-“

“Ah! I’m so lucky to have you. I’ll let everyone know.”

Heather bounced off into the other room, texting rapidly with her manicured hands on her cell phone, making the fire bigger.

With your head spinning around and around you don’t even remember walking your way to the diner waiting for the freshman girls to bring their guys along to the large table set for someone’s embarrassment.

Taking a seat near the end of the table next to Soyeon and Heather on your other side, you sat and sipped at the Diet Coke in front of you, feeling your mix of anxiety and angel swirling in your stomach and begging for something a little stronger.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Soyeon leaned over and whispered into your ear, seeing the look on your face and noticing your obvious quietness.

“I’ll tell you after.”

“Okay, if you want to go early, let me know.”

“I will”

Heather had her vulture eyes on, waiting to see which she would inevitably have embarrassed by the groups around you with no remorse.

She looked into your eyes and signaled to a cute shy boy across the table, sitting and picking at his nails, making it clear she had made her mark.

“Let me use the bathroom first okay?”

“Yeah, of course. You wouldn’t want to miss it.”

“Right.”

Walking briskly into the old blue stalls in the bathroom, which you didn't even really have to use, but just needed an excuse to go somewhere and release your anxiety.

“Y/n? Hey. Y/n?”

Seeing Soyeon’s platform heels under the bottom of the stall door you jumped up and swung your head out of the blue metal.

“What?”

“Remember that guy you met today?”

“Yes, of course why?”

“He’s here.”

“Someone brought him?”

“No. He’s here with his two friends and Heather invited them to the table. One of them is that dude that’s friends with Mingyu with the that acts like a tiger, the hot nerdy one, and the other one is just some hot short buff guy, never seen him before. Anyway, We either have to get out of here right now or stay and hide in here until they're gone.” L

“Why don’t we just go-“

“No. I don’t want him to think you’re a bitch? Are you crazy? You can’t go dunking on nerds in front of three hot dudes?”

“Okay let’s go.”

As the two of you tried to make your exit from the ladies room you heard commotion outside in the dining room, so you both slipped back quickly into the bathroom, locking the door for some reason as you head the chairs scooting and the bell ringing meaning people were slipping out on one of the boys at the table.

“You think they're gone?”

“Yeah. I hear the sink running in the men’s room, come on.”

As you walked out of the bathroom in front of you Seokmin was sitting at the table covered in a turkey club sandwich looking at the long tab Heather left for him.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Your ‘sisters’ dumped a sandwich on me and left the tab? Do you guys do this a lot?”

“It’s just some stupid shit Heather came up with when she became president. Me and y/n were hiding in the bathroom so we could come and pay the tab. But, you got to it first.”

“Right.”

Not saying anything and standing in your tracks cold, you watched as Soyeon took the check from his hands and waved you on to help him as she went up to pay.

“She dumped her food on you?”

“Yeah, my friends and I were just coming for takeout. I saw Soyeon so I went to say hi and she wanted to come get you. But the blonde girl,”

“Heather.”

“Yeah, Heather. She told me to sit down for a second and my friends went back to their dorm so they could keep studying and deliver food to some other guys. She was okay at first, but once Soyeon left she dumped her soda and sandwich on me and when I came back they were all gone.”

“I’m so sorry? Let me get you dry cleaning money or something.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I can handle it. I’m glad you two were here though, I don’t have my wallet on me. Are you okay though? Have you been crying?”

“I’m fine, just had a moment.”

The small black haired girl popped back over, tucking her card back into her wallet and smiling at the two of you sitting and talking with Seokmin covered in an orange beverage, a little bit of lettuce stuck in his hair.

“Want to come to a party?”

“If it’s at the sorority then sorry, no thanks.”

“No. It’s just some of my friends from the music department. They’re playing a show at O’Malley’s.”

“I don’t think orange soda is really a good look for a party.”

“That’s okay, y/n has to go change too. You guys just meet me there? I’m going to head out and get us a table.”

“Well I do owe you guys both a drink. So, sure.”

“Oh, and Seokmin?”

“Yeah?”

“Make sure y/n actually comes back out, she’s hard to get her hands on.”

“Of course.”

Walking back to your somewhat shared dorm, you and Seokmin walked in silence past greek row, watching all the girls running around to get ready for a greeting ceremony to the frat houses as escorts to their party.

The boy looked at you up and down, imagining you inside one of those grand houses gossiping and dishing on sister life just trying to figure out why you joined in the first place, your friend included.

Reaching your destination with only smiles and small giggles shared between the two of you on the walk over, you both slid into your dorm rooms and found clothes that were far more suitable for a night out.

You noticed the black tank top Soyeon had pointed out before and slid it on, matching it with a pair of dark ripped jeans and your go-to loafers, sliding back into the hallway, finding Seokmin on the other side of the door waiting for you.

He was somehow on your wavelength wearing an oversized black t-shirt and jeans.

“I figured I should try to match Soyeon's aesthetic somehow.”

“Me too. You look nice, I like your shoes.”

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?”

“Yes. I definitely need a drink.”

“So, y/n what is your drink of choice.”

“Anything strong and not sweet.”

“Oh, so not me then.”

“Shut up.”

Seokmin made you laugh, there was no way a boy like him was not taken or at least could be interested in you.

“Have you and Soyeon been friends for long? You guys seem close.”

“Actually, not really. We hung out for the first time today. I mean, I’ve seen her at parties and stuff, but she’s sort of been like a breath of fresh air for me.”

“Really? I’m surprised by that. Why are you in the sorority anyway? You don’t exactly have the same.. Vibe? Or whatever as the other girls. Especially the ones I met today.”

“My mom. The girl. Heather. Soda spiller, her mom and mine were friends when we were kids, they're legacy members. So I just thought it would be fun, but now.. I don’t feel that way.”

“Can’t you just quit?”

“I guess.”

“Why don’t you want to?”

“I guess I just want to be someone who sees things through. I also can’t offer Heather the satisfaction of knowing I left.”

“She really is that bad huh?”

“Worse. It’s a long story. Can we table it?”

“Of course.”

Reaching the door of the bar, you caught a glimpse of Soyeon’s shoulder tattoo near the stage, through the large crowd of people mingling.

“Go. I’ll order us drinks and meet you there?”

“You sure?”

“You said you needed it right?”

“What about your wallet?”

“Apple pay, y/n. Duh.”

“Your ID?”

“My friend is the bartender, just go.”

“So sassy.”

Walking your way through the crowd by pushing yourself through other bodies you finally reach the girl on the other side and wrap your arm around her waist as a hello.

“What the- Oh my god, you actually came? You look so hot. I’m proud.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine. Where’s the puppy?”

“At the bar grabbing drinks.”

“On the leash already? You’re good.”

“No. He’s just nice.”

“True. But, he also likes you.”

“I don’t think it’s like that, but maybe someday you’ll tell me I told you so.”

“I look forward to it. I saved you guys a table.”

“My girl.”

Soyeon gestured her long manicured fingers behind you, noticing the boy making his way with two glasses in his hands and another tall figure following behind him holding a tray with various things on top.

“Hi, Soyeon.”

“Hi, Keom. Thank you for joining us. Who’s the glasses?”

“My friend Wonwoo, he works here, well he just got off. Is it cool if he joins us?”

“Of course.”

“Nice to meet you, Wonwoo. I’m y/n.”

“Hey.”

“So. Since I didn’t get to ask Soyeon what she wanted and I wasn’t entirely sure what you liked. We brought over options. But, we have to finish them all because Wonwoo was nice enough to gift them to us and it’s unfair to not accept gifts.”

“Very charming.”

You made your second flirty comment of the night to Seokmin, even though your sober self normally isn’t entirely as bold as you find yourself being with him now. But, in all fairness you were just trying to catch his vibe. He didn’t respond verbally, but just scrunched his nose in your direction almost as if he was letting you know that he’s interested.

“First, a simple vodka soda, little lemon, then just a couple of beer options, this is a sour, this is just a simple light beer, and an ipa, which ew, but I think Wonwoo likes, some tequila shots and some lemon drop shots, also a whiskey soda and a jack and coke, and then a uh, gin and tonic i think? Right, Woo?”

“Yeah, maybe you should be the bartender, Seokmin.”

“I have other talents.”

All eight of your hands reach every which way around the table and end up with different drinks sat in front of them, you beelined for the vodka and the sour beer, Soyeon went for the whiskey soda and the tequila, Seokmin for the gin and tonic and light beer, and Wonwoo for the jack and coke and the ipa.

“Who wants what shot?”

Soyeon dipped her arm back to the middle of the table covering her eyes with her opposite hand, grabbing a hold of the small glasses very carefully and placing them around the small group.

“There. Decided for you, me and Wonwoo get tequila and you and Seokmin get lemon.”

Smiling widely at your friend next to you, you grabbed a hold of the shot glass and held it up signaling everyone to cheers. Which they all happily obliged.

Soon after the alcohol was going through your bloodstream the band started playing their music that hit you right in the chest, songs about living your life to the fullest and choosing your own path, much to your surprise Soyeon was the one who wrote the music that spoke to your soul.

After the set ended, Wonwoo and Soyeon wanted to stay back and have a few more drinks to congratulate their friends, and enjoy their night, but you were beat thinking about all the work you still had to do over the weekend and dreading the choice of man Heather would embarrass. So you decided to leave with Seokmin walking you back safely to your dorm.

“What are you studying again?”

“Me? Oh, I’m studying to be a veterinarian.”

“Wow really? That’s cool, I didn’t know. You must be busy as hell.”

“I’m sure you’re just as busy, being a doctor for actual humans is way more complicated considering a lot of them are assholes.”

“That’s unfortunately true. But, I love it to be honest. I can understand why people are afraid of the hospital and surgery I guess.”

“That’s good, maybe we should study together sometime? I know it’s not the same exact thing or whatever, but it’s nice to have company?”

“I would love that, tomorrow? I mean if you’re free. We can go to the coffee shop or library or anything really?”

“Yeah, just knock around 10?”

“Okay. Cool. I’ll see you tomorrow??”

“Yes, absolutely. Have a good night, y/n”

“You too, Seok.”

Trying to get comfortable in your bed, some pesky person kept lighting up your phone screen, reaching over to turn on do not disturb you and realized it was Heather. She was asking a bunch of interrogating questions about your new friend Seokmin, begging you to bring him over tomorrow.

Unfortunately for you, you knew her interest in him was about to make your new relationship a very complicated one.

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waklman · 1 year

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Fake it

Chapter Two: Drunk on Halloween

synopsis: a pair of best friends, one apartment, and one fake dating ploy to get jake’s ex girlfriend back, will end well right? wrong.

pairing: jake seresin x female reader.

warnings: no use of y/n, underage drinking, mentions of binge eating, jake and reader are both 20. this blog is 18+, everyone please thank @blue-aconite for deciding that jake 6'5 :)

word count: 4.3k

college au, fake dating trope, roommate trope

previous chapter | next chapter | fake it masterlist

The harsh sun beaming directly on Bradley’s back makes him deeply reconsider meeting up with Jake—especially on the one day he had off in his class schedule. Instead of sleeping in, like he originally planned to, Bradley’s waiting outside the student center building—that he didn’t even know existed until now.

Flocks of underclassmen are exiting through the front doors, fresh lanyards hanging around their necks as they walk around him. A few of them even mutter an apology to Bradley, despite him clearly being in the wrong, planting himself in the middle of the walkway—with no intention to move.

Just as Bradley’s about to turn around and leave, the devil himself appears with a crowd of sorority girls in front of him—laughing as he holds the top of the door open for them to file out through. And even with Bradley’s impatience wafting off towards him, Jake doesn’t falter.

In spite of it, Jake dips his head back down to say his goodbyes to the pack of girls, making sure to give out individual hugs as well. He then jogs over to Bradley with two energy drinks clutched in one hand, and a toothy smile plastered on his face—one that Bradley isn’t affected by because he’s not some girl seeking a temporary semester crush to keep herself going. Bradley’s just here to relay information, and to get lunch.

Ignoring the unimpressed look he’s receiving from Bradley, Jake continues walking down the cement path after passing him one of the drinks. It’s pocketed into Bradley’s sweatpants for now.

“Untwisted Javy’s panties,” Bradley flatly states, catching up behind Jake in two long strides.

“What?” Jake’s brows furrow, looking ahead at an approaching tour group. Stepping over to his left, Jake makes more space on the pavement for them to walk pass him as he continues on.

Unlike his friend, Bradley doesn’t move over at all, he continues walking in a straight line—causing the appointed tour guide to visibly panic as he divides up the herd of highschoolers from their parents. “You forgot Juliet? He forbade me from seeing you.” Bradley’s face remains stoic, delivering his reminder coldly.

“Oh, yeah,” Jake answers, mildly confused. He hasn’t got a clue where Bradley pulled the new nickname from. All Jake knows is that he can finally get through the doors for frat parties, especially now that Javy’s cooled off his case.

Both of them meet back again, walking side by side—oblivious to the wide-eyed teenage girls doing double takes at the two attractive college boys that just passed them.

It wasn’t like Jake and Bradley were blind to the fact that they always stood a head taller than most people. As a matter of fact, they both secretly marveled at their size comparison to others—it was just hard to remember how large they both were when they stood shoulder to shoulder, making eachother look rather normal.

Jake pops open the tab of his energy drink. He slows down his steps, permitting Bradley to gain on him as he sips on the liquid that pools around the rim of the can.

“This isn’t me helping you two with this shitty plan.” Bradley starts, before getting to his next point. Jake nods once, accepting the preface.

Reaching a downhill slope, their pace begins to wind down. “Talked to some chick in Alpha Xi for you. She told me Kendall’s coming to that party we’re co-hosting next weekend.” Bradley mutters, regrettably.

Opposite to Bradley’s dead eyes, Jake’s own green orbs shoot into a brighter shade at the news.

Bradley can nearly see the cogs turning in Jake’s head. From the look on his face, Jake’s already decided on taking you as his plus one to next week’s party.

Jake elbows Bradley’s side. “You talked to someone for me?”

While Bradley confirmed, more to himself, that this wasn’t him helping Jake out—the slight guilt is still there. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, knowing you’re in the thick of it all.

Other guys would have no hesitancy when helping out a buddy, but Bradley did. An unsensible part of him wishes you didn’t remind him of his little sisters so much. Juicing out information that obviously aids Jake’s dumb ploy feels like he’s setting one of his own sisters up for disaster. And though you were just as clueless as Jake was—Bradley’s no idiot. He might act like he doesn’t know what’s going on sometimes, but that’s only to have an upper hand on people.

It was hard to not ignore the elephant in the room, Bradley felt he was watching two characters dodge an issue that was going to end up blowing up in their faces. But, Jake’s too wrapped up in his own delusions about Kendall to see that, and you? Bradley’s not close enough to you to put his finger on what method of denial you’ve stuck to.

“You flirt with her to find that out, or are you just that handsome?” Jake adds on, laughing behind the can he brung up to his lips again.

“Look.” Bradley cuts him off, making a sharp turn towards the direction of the dining hall. Jake follows alongside him, sloppily taking a larger chug than expected, caused by the change in route.

“I have plenty of sisters, they—” Bradley presses his tongue to the back of his teeth, withholding the sappy lecture that’s threatening to spill out. Jake didn’t need to know he has that side to him, not yet.

Bradley alternatively lets out a breath of frustration. “Just be careful,” he mumbles, stuffing his hands into his hoodie.

Bradley watches from the corner of his eye as Jake discards the half empty can into one of the many trash bins scattered across campus.

As much as Jake hates how much Bradley’s become protective of you, Jake also knew that this meant that Bradley liked you. Bradley Bradshaw—the guy who didn’t think twice when he stepped onto sloshed freshman that groaned under his foot—liked you.

And when Bradley extended his care to someone, he kept a close eye on them at all times. It was a tendency he fell into after becoming an older brother. Therefore, Jake made sure there would be no harm caused to you before bringing this idea up to Bradley. Because you and Jake? That’s never happening, it’s actually impossible, outrageous, unimaginable even.

Jake knew what you liked, and that wasn’t him. Time and time again, you went for guys who were put together, guys who were as smart as you were, and guys who made your heart flutter through lame shit that Jake can’t even come up with. The few relationships you had didn’t last that long, but Jake was pleased knowing you weren’t left disrespected in the breakup. You were always the one who cut things off anyways.

Having that knowledge made Jake confident that you’d say something if this fake dating thing wasn’t cutting it anymore.

“Relax, Dad.” Jake claps a hand onto Bradley’s back, lightly laughing at the uptight expression dawning on his features.

Seeing that they’ve reached the wide steps leading up to the dining hall, Jake lets the hand on Bradley’s back fall to his side again. Already dismissing their conversation, Jake stomps his way up the stairs—skipping a few steps just because his long legs allowed him to.

Bradley sighs at his lack of awareness, following right behind Jake. Putting his hunger aside, Bradley feels something else bothering his stomach—a premonition, is what his kooky sisters would call it.

“Quit covering your face. I’m tryna show you off, not hide you.”

Contrary to his complaint, you turn your head away from the speechless girl, who unfortunately, stumbled upon you two in a compromising position. “This is humiliating,” you groan quietly into his hoodie, listening to her scramble off with hurried footsteps.

Meeting up with Jake in the library was clearly a mistake on your part. With your search for textbooks coming up empty, Jake took it upon himself to fool around, making a show in front of other innocent students, subjecting them to a view of him towering over you. How else would everyone know you’re my girlfriend, he argued.

You lean back against the bookshelf he’s pinned you against.

Thumbing over the button of your denim shorts, Jake lets out a soundless breath. The metal clasp looks so tiny compared to his digit tracing it—putting Jake in a momentary trance. “My girl’s so shy, what am I supposed to do with you,” he teases, eyes still trained on your waistband.

“I…I see why she broke up with you. You can’t keep your hands to yourself,” you grumble—face hot at the coined term. It’s embarrassing as is—that he’s starting with a public declaration of your ‘relationship’, but calling you his girl? None of your exes had even attempted to test out the term with you, because they had shame—something that Jake Seresin has not one ounce of.

I see why she broke up with you. Right, Kendall broke up with him.

Jake’s hands drop from your figure, feeling kicked by your comment. “You think so?” He whispers, eyes trailing back up to your face. Jake fills his cheeks with air, self-conscious at the sudden reminder that Kendall dumped him out of the blue—without giving him a single explanation as to why.

Reaching up a hand to squish his face, your eyes soften. His cheeks slowly deflate as your fingers press down on his tanned skin, allowing him to blow out the excess air. “No. I don’t think so.”

After echoing back his comment to him, Jake eases up again—puckering his lips in your hands to make you laugh, which you do—quietly. The librarians were already well versed on who you two were, there must’ve been a catalog of complaints under their desks with both your names on it.

You drop your hand from his face, forcing Jake to conceal his disappointment at the motion. “Told some girls I have a new girl today,” he moves on, eyes tracing over the lines of your face.

It only hits him now how much you’ve aged—not like it’s a bad thing. You just look different—not like the younger version of you that Jake had in his head.

“Told em’ you’re real pretty—think that’ll get back to her?” Jake rests his palms on your hips again—maintaining the illusion.

Through natural impulse, Jake’s thumb finds itself ringing around the clasps of your shorts again. The pad of his digit circles the metal button, and occasionally drops down to trace over the teeth of your zipper. He plays with the opening of your pants so lightly, that you don’t even notice it.

You face scrunches up, pretending to wince for his ex-girlfriend. “Ouch.”

“Can’t wait to break your heart and dump you, once she comes crawling back to you,” you lightly joke, poking a finger into his chest where his heart would sit. Despite his soft jab to Kendall, you had a feeling that he’ll win her back in no time.

Jakes softly smiles at you, almost forgetting where you two are for a split second. “You wouldn’t break my heart, Princess. You’re too nice for that,” and he meant it.

When his older sisters used to complain about how insufferable Jake was during puberty, you always assured him that he wasn’t annoying at all. One could say the comradery only conspired because you were also going through puberty, but it made Jake feel validated at the time. Thirteen year old Jake was well aware that he was a brat, but he just needed to hear you say that he wasn’t.

“I’m just the bestest friend ever huh?”

“The best a boy could ask for,” Jake’s eyes crinkle from his stretched out smile.

In the last hour that you two have spent here, there had been a layer of hushed whispers that can be heard amongst the soft clattering of hardcover books and clicking of keyboards—but there’s one familiar voice off in the distance that urges you to tune out Jake’s response.

Turning your head in search for it, your vision zones in on a group of girls heading directly towards you and Jake. You don’t know if it was pure luck or your intuition but the voice belonged to one of Kendall’s friends.

To your surprise, all her girlfriends are here—but she’s not with them.

Right as you take notice of the one friend, the glossy lipped girl makes instant eye contact with you. She wastes no time notifying the others around her by swatting their arms with her nimble hand.

The air in your lungs immediately expunges once they all start to swivel their heads precisely at you.

Alertness strikes you like a clap of thunder, prompting you to snap your head back to Jake. His smile falls once he catches your panic-stricken expression.

Wanting to decipher what’s bothering you, Jake tears his concerned eyes off you and starts to lift his head in the direction you were previously looking at.

If Jake were to look over there—this whole dating thing wouldn't look natural. With that in mind, you knew you were left with only one option.

Without a warning, you cup his cheek in your hand—bringing his attention back to you. Tucking away your nerves, you clasp your other hand onto the back of Jake’s neck—pulling him down towards you.

It almost happens too fast for Jake’s brain to register what’s going on—until he feels a new warmth against his mouth.

You’re kissing him.

Your tongue isn’t shoved down his throat, your lips aren’t slotted into his—all you do is softly press your lips against the corner of his mouth, but it catches him off guard nonetheless.

From the sudden proximity, the distinct scent of your strawberry body-wash floods his nose and travels to his brain—scrambling all of his thoughts into one jumbled mess.

Not knowing what to do with himself, Jake digs his sweaty fingers into your hips in surprise, the pads of his fingers practically wet your denim. This was the last thing he expected out of his visit to the library.

Slowly, you pull back only to peck him on the corner of his mouth again, to make it look believable. Deciding it should be enough, you get off your tippy toes—and withdraw the hand you hooked onto him.

Disregarding the dizzying rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins, you look up at Jake expectantly—lashes fluttering underneath him.

It’s fruitless—Jake’s scan to see if you’re wearing that prickling lip plumping gloss Kendall used to jabber out, the one that made his mouth sting from kissing her. Because Jake feels that similar sensation on the little spot you kissed. His lips tingle there.

“Jake? Did they see?” You ask, cutting through his thoughts.

Jake blinks down at you, marked with confusion. “Jake.” You stamp down again, urging him to check. You were far too mortified to make eye contact with those girls again.

Jake stammers for a moment before looking off to see what you’re talking about. Finally, his sights land on the overly familiar group of girls—it’s Kendall’s best friends.

They’re all standing by a row of printers across the library floor, faces frozen in shock. Their heads almost knock into each other in a failed attempt to turn around, as if he hasn’t already caught them looking over here.

Dismissing his heart thumping in his chest, from the energy drink he guzzled down earlier—Jake twists his neck to look back at you again, mouth parted in realization. You took the initiative to kiss him on the edge of his mouth, because they were looking—because from this angle, it looked like you were giving him a sweet little peck. One a girlfriend would give to her boyfriend.

Jake easily shakes you from the way he squeezes your hips in celebration. The boastful action pulls a weak smile from you. “You're a fucking genius, you know that?” Jake feels like he’s about to explode from the swirl of pleasant emotions in his chest, ones that he can’t even put a name to.

Jake could give you an actual fucking kiss right now. Even if you’re probably wearing that tingling lip gloss.

“Get your–own! Jacob!” you shriek, pulling your ice cream cone away from him. The soft serve was initially bought as a thank you gift, for the show you put on in the library. But you were sadly mistaken if you thought you could enjoy your frozen treat without Jake asking for a bite—which turned into two bites—which turned into half of your ice cream being gone before you could have so much of a taste.

The fight you put up is futile, as Jake’s already coming up from behind you. His large frame almost casts a shadow onto the bulletin board you’re both standing in front of. To steady your stance, Jake presses his palm against your stomach, so you don’t stumble forward.

Holding your wrist steady with his other hand, Jake lifts your hand up to his mouth to sink his teeth into the melting glob of milk and sugar. After securing a large bite, he uncurls his fingers from your wrist. “What are you gonna do about it? Kiss me?” He asks, chest rumbling behind you.

Tipping your head backwards, the top of your head hits his chest. “No more,” you declare softly—looking at him through your lashes.

Jake licks off the excess ice cream on the corner of his mouth. His teasing smile drops at your serious plea. “No more,” he repeats, looking down at you.

You knew it was ridiculous to be slighted by Jake eating your ice cream, but you’ve been feeling uneasy during the past few days. And the snacks back at the apartment weren’t enough to diminish your need to stress eat. There was something in the back of your mind lately, that’s been increasing your desire to binge.

Jake nudges the side of your foot with his own, encouraging you to eat your ice cream.

At the assurance that he’s done consuming your vanilla cone, you both bring your attention back to the array of neon flyers stapled onto the board in front of you two.

Since Jake’s hand is still pressed against your tummy, he extends his pinky to play with the button of your shorts again. “How about the outdoor movie? Maybe Kendall will show up,” he offers.

Your eyes search for the poster he’s referring to. “Jake, you’re really bad with scary movies. It says right there that it’s a horror movie night,” you point out, apprehensively.

“Movie nights are stupid anyway,” he scoffs, setting his embarrassment aside.

For the next few minutes, you read off the upcoming school events to Jake as he distracts himself by watching you give your ice cream kitten licks—holding back the urge to take another bite.

“...I don’t think she’ll be showing up to any of these Jake,” you conclude, leaning back against his chest with the waffle cone between your teeth.

Jake stiffens. It only just occurred to him now, that he made you two come all the way down here for no reason. Jake was already aware of an event you both could go to with Kendall’s confirmed attendance.

“Did you just—flex your abs because I laid back on you?”

Yeah he did. It was reflexive for the most part, but there’s other things to be discussed.

Jake cuts in with his new idea, “My old frat is co-hosting a party that we’re invited to. Kendall’s showing up,” he proposes, looking down to probe your reaction.

“Oh, okay. We can—we can do that,” you untangle yourself from him, while still being careful to not drop your cone.

Jake’s brows pinch in confusion, watching you slip out from under him. “Where are you going?”

Doing a quick turn to face him, you hand him the empty cone which he grabs from you. “That just reminded me of something—I gotta go. I’ll meet you at home later?”

Jake raises the cone to his mouth, taking a bite from it. “You don’t want me to come with you?”

“No, it’s okay,” you assure him with a faint smile.

When the doorbell rang through the house, Bradley swung open the door, already prepared to tell whatever girl that was there to leave. And that her boyfriend is most likely cheating on her if he lives in this house.

Instead of finding some teary eyed girl on the doorstep of the frat house, he found you standing there digging the toe of your sneaker into the stained doormat beneath you.

If he was given a heads up that you were coming, Bradley would’ve made an effort to tidy up his room. When he led you inside, he had to kick away the piles of out-turned shirts and dirty boxers to clear the way for you.

Bradley couldn’t begin to imagine Jake's reaction if he knew that you were sitting on top of Bradley’s bed right now.

Typically when Bradley did have girls on his mattress, they didn’t look like a meek little lamb with their hands politely folded into their laps and they definitely didn’t have their legs stiffly glued together.

Directly across from you, Bradley’s manspreading in his black and white gaming chair. He’s dressed in grey sweats and a black hoodie. And the only light in his room is a desk lamp that shines down on your face.

“He definitely remembers.” Bradley squints his eyes at you in suspicion. It’s not often that you come to him for advice, so when you did, it always had to do with Jake.

Your hands clamp tighter in your lap. “I don’t know Bradley, he looked so confused when I mentioned it in the elevator,” You’re practically sweating under the yellow light, as if Bradley’s cross-examining you.

“You kiddin’ me? I’ve seen Seresin play Jenga when he had a pack of beers in his system. And he fucking won,” he scoffs, leaning foward to rest both elbows on his knees.

Bradley’s voice is naturally gruff, but he’s making an effort to keep a calm tone with you—because it honestly looks like you would shatter like glass, if he were to speak to you in the wrong way. “When did you say this kiss was?”

At the question, your face scrunches up trying to remember the details. “It was at a Halloween party—we had to be sixteen or something,” you swallow thickly, recalling what follows. “I only had a few hard seltzers but Jake he…um he had a couple of his dad’s beers.”

Bradley intently nods, ensuring you that he’s listening.

“The music was so loud Bradley, I could barely make out what he was saying—he was trying to tell me something but his words were all—they were,” you pause, deliberating over the right word choice.

“Slurred? Fucked up? All over the place?” He offers, engrossed by your narrative.

“Yeah, and God—I had such a big crush on him at the time,” you bury your face in your hands. This had to be the first time you admitted this out loud. Never in a million years would you think you’d tell Bradley of all people.

Bradley presses his lips together and nods slowly, unmoved by your confession. He wonders what his sisters would tell you in this situation.

On his bed, you’re taking slowed breaths. It doesn’t take a genius to get a sense on why this problem from years ago is troubling you now. But, Bradley’s not sure if he wants to be the one to break it to you.

Bradley sighs deeply, putting his hard demeanor on hold.

“You don’t have to say anymore, I can tell how the story ends,” he says quietly, bringing a stiff hand over your knee.

Jake had just broken up with his first girlfriend that Halloween and intentionally got shit-faced, while dressed as Ken and you as Barbie. The costume was meant for his girlfriend pre-breakup, but you took it and matched with him instead—hoping it would cheer him up.

After having too much to drink, Jake came staggering over to you, spewing out nonsense you couldn’t even hear over the blaring music.

Then, he kissed you—right then and there. It was nothing special, the kiss lasted for less than three seconds, but it still knocked the air out of your lungs.

And right after he took your first kiss, Jake proceeded to pass out, landing straight on your shoulder like dead weight. It left you standing there, trying to keep him upright as your legs felt like jelly.

The morning after, Jake didn’t bring it back up. Right when you knocked on his door still giddy from last night, Jake let you in and continued his complaints about his ex.

You had cried for weeks at the revelation that he didn’t remember. That he had probably mistaken you for his ex-girlfriend, given the costume and all. Jake thought he kissed her in his drunken haze, not you.

And by the time you two were seventeen, you finally got past it. Whatever romantic feelings you felt for him diminished to nothing. And you’ve already concluded that it didn’t matter anymore.

So why does it bother you so much now?

“…Get out…my…room,” you tiredly mumble. The words are almost incoherent as they slip out your mouth.

Sitting on your bedside, the corner of Jake’s lip tugs into a small smile. How can he take you seriously when your face is squished into a pillow?

When Jake came in to check up on you, he walked in on you being half awake with your front sinking into the bed and your back pointing up towards the ceiling.

With a hand sprawled against the small of your back, Jake stretches his fingers wider to see much of your back he can cover. Then, he begins to gently caress his hand over your spine, contributing to your sleepiness.

“Where’d you go?” He asked in a hush tone, not wanting to disturb you too much.

Jake had gone straight home after you left him earlier in the day, but you didn’t get back until the sun had set. And when you finally got home, you looked off.

“Friend’s house,” you short-cut your answer, a tell-tale sign that you were drifting off.

Jake pauses his movement.

“…What friend?” Last time he checked, you had no other friends but him.

He waits for you to answer, but he’s only met with silence. You fell asleep on him.

All he can do is sigh, pulling his hand away from you. And as he stares down at your peaceful state, Jake struggles to identify the uneasiness twisting in his stomach.

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midnightfantasiez · 2 months

Text

Twisted Love | 하나 (chp. 1)

SUMMARY: you were certain that you would never find love nor ever lose your virginity throughout university, that is until a man named Lee Sangyeon came into the picture and offered to become your tutor; in exchange for keeping your grades up, and most importantly, teaching you everything you needed to know about sex. it was all just for fun & games, that is until one of you started to develop feelings for the other.

PAIRING: tutor!Sangyeon x afab!reader

GENRE: smut (18+ MDNI!!)

WARNINGS: frat parties whoopie 🤠, alcohol consumption, Sangyeon is such a flirt dear god, petnames (sweetheart, princess, good girl, baby), reader gets drunk, kissing, oral (reader receiving), Sangyeon's goddamn tongue 😮‍💨, foreplay, cum tasting (Sangyeon forces reader to 😃), size kink, readers loses their virginity to Sangyeon, p in v sex, unprotected sex (be careful irl folks), cursing, multiple orgasms

WORD COUNT: 3,535

A/N: and so the chaos begins 😈 shoutout to both @sungbeam @momhwa-agenda for beta reading this for me!! 💗

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The loud, blaring music was the only thing that resonated within your eardrums as you tried your best to navigate the fraternity house with a glass of Long Island Iced Tea in your hand. It didn’t help that the entire venue was dimly lit and crowded, no matter which corner you tried to escape to.

It was the day right before the new semester started, and your roommate convinced you to join the frat party hosted by the co-ed sorority house just down the block from your apartment. To commemorate both of you finishing up your first year and venturing into the next, your roommate decided it was about time you both stepped out of your comfort zone and had a little fun before hell started the following day.

There was a problem, though: you weren’t much of a party scene type of girl. Sure, you drink a little bit occasionally, but frat parties were definitely out of the question. On the other hand, your roommate often heads down to the local bars every weekend to get wasted and return home during the wee hours of the day. If only you both didn’t have 8 am classes every single day (because, well, being a law student sucked), you were pretty sure that your roommate would’ve gone out every single night if she could.

But it was totally fine with you, though—you are both still good friends, so you often just turn a blind eye to her drinking habits. In fact, sometimes, she was the perfect friend to go to whenever you needed drinking advice; she was the one who broke you out of your shell and ventured into the whole new world of alcohol consumption anyway.

Thanks to her, she managed to drag you out of the house and attend this frat party with her because you promised to spend more time with her after finals were over after turning down multiple of her offers during the previous semester. Now, there was no escape for you since you were free from studies, and your part-time job didn’t really need your assistance until several weeks later; you had no choice but to give in.

You were constantly linking your arms with her wherever you went, staying close to her at all times because, quite frankly, you struggled with social anxiety. But as long as you were close to your roommate, everything would be much more bearable than it was.

However, at some point, you unintentionally slipped your arms off her, and she probably didn’t notice either, as she blended into the crowd of strangers fairly well. Now, you were just standing in the middle of the room, groups of people constantly walking past you. Immediately, you started to panic—the alcohol in your system was also giving you a hard time as you tried your best to look for your friend since you were slowly starting to get tipsy.

But you were determined that you needed to reunite with your roommate no matter what, so you tried your best to push through the crowd with the glass of cocktail in hand, hoping that she hadn’t gone too far away and that you would be able to find her as soon as you could.

That was until you unintentionally bumped into someone, and the alcohol in your system was once again slowly disrupting your senses. As you try your best to squint your eyes and look up to who it is, you are greeted by a somewhat built tall man leaning down to your eye level, trying to start a little conversation with you.

“Hey, are you lost, pretty little thing?”

You were met by a tall black-haired male, about 176cm tall, holding a glass of whiskey in his hand as he began looking at you from top to bottom. Even when you were tipsy, you could clearly examine his well-built body and how good he looked. You had no idea such good-looking students resided in the sorority house.

“O-Oh, yeah…I mean no…I’m supposed to look for my friend…”

“Hmm, what does she look like? Perhaps I could help you find her?”

“Oh no! It’s okay; I can handle it myself—”

Before you could even finish your sentence, you began losing your balance. You were about to stumble to the ground until a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, preventing you from actually having that impact.

God, this is why you hated alcohol.

“I don’t think you’re in a very good state to go hunting for your friend, sweetheart. Let’s go get some water from the pantry,” the male insisted, and he began guiding you all the way to the kitchen, which wasn’t located too far from where you were standing. He immediately made you sit on one of the chairs surrounding the dining table. He quickly fetched warm water in a glass and handed it to you.

At this point, your subconsciousness was slowly fading away, and you were still holding onto your cocktail, not wanting to let it go. In return, the male himself had to help unwrap your fingers surrounding the glass of alcohol and place it far away from you. Once he did so, he gently placed the glass of water in your hands, guiding you to drink it while you began whining like a baby.

“I don’t wanna~ Give me back my cocktail~” You slurred.

“I’d like to think you’ve had enough alcohol for the night, princess. You’re going to blackout soon if you take another sip of that,” the male replied while he was slowly trying to push your arms down from trying to take the alcoholic beverage located on the dining table.

“Who are you to tell me what to do~ You don’t even know me~” You whined, slowly getting slightly annoyed with everything.

“I am certainly gentlemen enough to step in and stop a stranger from doing something they might regret later on,” he insisted.

“No, no, no! I don’t like it! Give it back to me!” You were starting to raise your voice a little, but it wasn’t loud enough to cause a commotion; well, technically, this was a frat party where loud music was just blasting all over the entire house.

But the male wasn’t going to back off so easily. “Princess, please stop it; you’re not going to last—”

The next thing that happens is you dive into his embrace and seal your lips with his. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and began kissing him messily, devouring the hints of whiskey that were left on his lips. The male himself was initially taken aback; his eyes widened, and he did not know what to do. Yet, you were devouring him hungrily, and you eventually tried slipping your tongue into his mouth, and that was when he knew he was fucked.

In response, he kissed you back aggressively, tilting his head to the side to gain more access to your mouth. And boy, did he enjoy the little hints of cocktail left behind on your lips. If this is what you have always heard about your roommate telling you how making out when you’re drunk looks and feels like, it definitely exceeded your expectations. You were on cloud nine, the tension and lust in the air being all prominent, causing you to crave for more.

Suddenly, your hands slowly creep up on his built chest, touching them as if it were something all brand new to you. How rock solid it felt, and how badly you wanted to lift his shirt actually to feel it bare—

“Sweetheart,” he panted.

“Y-Yeah?” You asked, all while still kissing the male aggressively.

“Do you wanna see what’s underneath?”

“Hell, yes, I fucking do.”

He smirked in between the kisses. “Well then, let’s take this somewhere else, shall we? Somewhere more private and where we will be having loads of fun together.”

You couldn’t remember exactly how you ended up in one of the empty bedrooms upstairs in the sorority house. All you remembered briefly was how he picked you up in one swift motion, your legs wrapped around him all while he took you upstairs, lips still intact with one another.

The next thing that happened was that you were lying flat on the bed, your pants were completely stripped off from you and tossed on the ground, and the male himself was situated in between your thighs, slowly leaving trails of kisses all the way close to your cunt.

As soon as he reached your underwear, he began rubbing it slowly and gently, causing you to elicit a moan as you arched your back from that sensation. He knew what he was doing, and it felt so good.

“H-Hey…can you…uughh…can you kiss m-my…”

“You want me to eat you out?” Well, that was pretty straightforward.

“Hnngh…yeah…please…” you begged.

“Only if you call my name, sweetheart. It’s Sangyeon.”

“S-Sangyeon…please…”

If only you knew how pretty his name sounded coming out of your mouth, oh god, how badly he wanted to give you whatever you asked for.

“Now that’s a good girl,” he smirked as he pulled your underwear down and tossed it straight towards the ground; the cold air that was hitting your now wet spot suddenly sent a little wave of current down your spine.

As he slowly made his way back to your cunt, he noticed how you were already dripping wet, and he grinned at the sight that was in front of him. Your face was flushed, chest moving up and down heavily, and god, the way you looked so adorable in his eyes—making him want to make you cum as much as he possibly could.

“Baby, you look absolutely gorgeous right now. I’m going to devour you up so bad and suck you dry, not leaving a single drop of your juices behind.”

With that, he immediately connected his lips to your wet cunt, your moans now much louder and more prominent than before. If you thought his fingers were deadly enough, apparently, he had another wildcard up his sleeves—his tongue.

Your head was spinning as his tongue throbbed in and out of your cunt, picking up his pace gradually, where he decided to yank you slightly closer to his mouth, causing him to penetrate his tongue deeper into you. Your hands gripped the sheets of the bed tightly, and naturally, you arched your hips up in hopes of wanting him to eat you out more.

“Hnngh, Sangyeon! I-I’m going to cum!!”

You were pretty sure that he heard that because the next thing that happened, he quickened his pace, and within seconds, your liquids came gushing out from you, and that didn’t stop him from licking every single drop.

As you slowly came down from your high, he was gently kissing all of your sensitive areas around your bud before lifting his face to move up towards you; now, both faces were just merely inches apart.

“Taste your own cum, baby. Tell me how it is,” he mentioned quickly before diving down, locking his lips with yours, his thumb pulling your chin down slightly to ensure you have gotten every single drop left on his lips.

Once he pulled away so that you both could breathe deeply, he gently caressed your face before asking the question.

“How does it taste, princess? Did I do a good job?”

“Y-Yes…It tastes so good…”

Instantly, a smile plastered across his face, and he leaned down for another peck on your lips. “Is there anything else I could do to pleasure you this evening, princess?”

There was something that you have always wanted to do from the back of your mind, but you have always been afraid to try it out. Ever since you entered college, you have always felt pressure around you when most of your friends have told you how they have already lost their virginity, making you feel like you’re still a little child waiting for your parents to get you your favourite strawberry flavoured lollipop from your local candy store.

However, you were also terrified of losing it, especially when you have heard horror stories on campus about how some girls have had traumatic experiences doing it with people that they didn’t really love or trust.

But it was always on your to-do list before you graduated from college, and if you were to ever do it, you would definitely not do it when you were sober. What exactly was the reason? You have no idea. Perhaps losing it when you were tipsy or drunk would have felt ten times better for you so that you wouldn’t have to remember about it much.

Given the fact that this Sangyeon guy has treated you nothing but well so far throughout the party, you figured that he probably isn’t those bad guys that people would tell you to stay away from. Besides, you were certain that you wouldn’t be meeting anyone from the party ever again when the new semester began.

It’s now or never.

“I want you, Sangyeon. I want you so bad.”

At first, you immediately tilted your face towards the side, not wanting to see the expression on his face as you said that. Who were you kidding, asking a random stranger to take away your virginity just like that? If he were a fuckboy, he probably would’ve done it right away without even having to wait for you to pose the question.

God, this is going to be another awkward moment—

Immediately, you felt his fingers wrapped under your chin as he turned you to look back at him, his face now merely inches away from you.

“If you want me to fuck you good, then I suggest you keep your eyes opened and watch carefully, baby.”

He then pushes himself back up and immediately lifts his shirt all the way up out from his head and throws it to the floor. You were pretty sure you were drooling at this point because you finally saw his bare, well-built body in person—rock solid toned abs, big built chest, and god, his body proportions were to just die for.

Before you could even comment on his body, he quickly yanked his pants and boxers down, revealing his now huge erected cock that he was rubbing slowly.

God, it’s a hell of a monster cock.

“Like what you see, princess?”

You quickly snap back from reality as he now slowly positions his cock directly onto your cunt, the tip now rubbing your entrance as he crawls up to you again.

“Are you ready, sweetheart? Ready to take it all in?”

You gulped. “Y-Yeah…I guess…”

He smiled and giggled at the sight of you. “You look so cute, do you know that? Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

Immediately, one of his hands finds its way to yours and interlocks them while his other hand helps push his giant cock into you, causing you to yelp and shut your eyes tightly from the impact.

Oh my god, you actually did it.

“Hey, baby, you okay?”

Trying your best to find the right words as you panted, you slowly responded to the male while your other free hand grabbed onto his arms. “Y-Yeah…I just…”

“I’ll give you a moment to adjust, hmm? Tell me whenever you’re ready; I’ll start off slow.”

After a few seconds of calming your heartbeat down a little, you slowly give him a nod, indicating that he could continue with what he was doing. The pace started slow but impactful, your walls were absolutely tight as hell, and his cock was just trying its best to loosen and break them apart.

“Let me guess,” he panted. “This is your first time doing it, huh?”

“W-What? How did you know?”

“Oh, I know alright; I’m pretty much a veteran when it comes to sex.”

What in God’s mind made him say that out loud?

As much as you wanted to comment on that, you were so out of your mind to even think straight because Sangyeon was now thrusting faster into you, knowing that your walls weren’t as tight as they were before.

“S-Sangyeon!”

“Use your words, baby. Tell me, how are you feeling?”

“I-It…it feels so good…aaahh!”

“You like it when I fill you up with my cum, baby?”

“Y-Yes, I want you, I want you so bad!”

That was all he needed to hear, and he reconnected his lips with yours for a couple of seconds, kissing you feverishly before breaking the kiss to pound you much faster and harder. In return, you suddenly felt a knot in your stomach, and that’s when you knew you were near.

“S-Sangyeon…”

“Yes, baby?”

“I-I’m going to cum…” you whispered, desperately trying to warn him beforehand.

“Then cum for me then, tell me. Where exactly do you want me?”

“I-Inside! Please! Cum inside of me!!” You screamed.

It was as if you both had the perfect timing as you both came together, filling each other up with your own respective liquids. You let out a deep gasp from your orgasm, and Sangyeon groaned out loud before he collapsed on top of you.

It took a few moments and a little breather before he lifted himself up a little, desperately trying to find your lips again and devour them slowly. You then moved your fingers up into his hair, slowly enjoying every bit of feeling how soft it is.

As your exhaustion slowly takes over you, your eyelids begin to fall, and you finally pass out into dreamland, his soft, plump lips on yours being the very last thing you remember.

You were awakened by the sound of your alarm coming from your phone as you tried your best to reach for it, which was placed on your nightstand.

When you finally squint your eyes to turn off the alarm, you shoot up from bed based on what you see on your screen.

You had 10 minutes left to prepare for your first class of the year.

Immediately, you hurried out of bed and dashed right into your toilet, trying to clean yourself up within 5 minutes so you would have the other remaining 5 to dash to campus.

You didn’t even bother putting on makeup for the day (which you would usually wear lightly); at this point, you only cared about being presentable and not looking like a homeless college student who got kicked out of her apartment.

There goes my effort to actually make a good first impression at the start of the new semester.

You couldn’t even say a simple good morning to your roommate who made your favourite toasted cream cheese bagel as you dashed straight out the door, having only one of the straps on your backpack slung over your shoulder.

As you made your way towards campus, the usual short route that would’ve taken 5 minutes if you walked and 2 minutes, if you dashed, felt much longer. But you knew that it was completely your fault since you were the one who overslept and fucked up your sleeping schedule.

Or did you?

That was when questions began popping up in your mind. The last time you remembered you were still awake and conscious was when you were at a frat party with your roommate.

A frat party…

That’s right.

You went to a frat party at the sorority house not far from your apartment, and then you remembered getting separated from your roommate and trying your best to locate her throughout the house…

…and you bumped into a man named Sangyeon.

Fuck, you actually lost your virginity last night.

The next thing you knew, you had already arrived right in front of your lecture hall, and you quickly took a quick breath and tried to compose yourself, shaking off all of the thoughts that had happened the night before.

Screw it, I’ll deal with whatever happened last night later.

You quickly navigated the entire auditorium, only to find that the front seat was left that wasn’t taken. You absolutely hated sitting in front, especially when you weren’t at your best self this morning. But you didn’t have much choice left as your professor walked into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

You reluctantly sat down and took your laptop out, turning it on while you began to hear your professor’s voice in the background.

As you were busy trying to rummage through your bag to find your textbooks, you began hearing the girls around you squeal, making you tilt your head up to see what was happening.

That was when you wished you could hide under the table and vanish from campus right this second.

A tall, black-haired male walked into the hall with a folder in his arms and made his way right next to your professor while introducing himself. His neatly styled hair was parted to the sides. He also wore a black blazer over his white tee, which, quite frankly, made him look effortlessly attractive.

“Class, this gentleman right here is Lee Sangyeon, and he will be the teacher’s assistant for this semester.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

A/N: me as i write this sangyeon series: "why do i do this to myself 😃" (no yall do not want to know the endless amount of brainrot i went through writing this)

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