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eddiernunson · 6 months

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Nice to Meet You, Where You Been? | Eddie Munson x f!Reader | 18+

Thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing, you're the best!

Summary: your college roommate takes you to the annual Harrington Halloween Party, where you expect to do nothing but get drunk and dance for a night. That was...until you turn around to the person dancing against you to Eddie fucking Munson.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, praise/degradation, hook-up at a party, daddy kink, creampie, no protection, slow ish build up, size kink? maybe?, hooking up under the influence

I had a whole ass plan to write for KinkTober but executive dysfunction took over. Hopefully this makes up for it...maybe.

I have another Halloween themed fic from last year, EddiexReader with Steve if anyone is interested

Word Count: 6.1k

You sit in the backseat of your roommate’s boyfriend’s beater, the music bumping through the stereo as you make your way to what is supposedly the biggest Halloween party of every year. Your roommate spent the beginning of your fall semester hyping up this party as the best place to be on a Halloween night. Her insistence was charming, and you were looking for an excuse to get drunk. So, now you are watching as you pass by Halloween decorations and children dressed in costumes going Trick-or-Treating.

You don't pay much attention to what they're saying, the gist of it reminiscing on the Halloween parties they had attended in the past. Your roommate had made it very clear from the start that this guy, whatever his name was, his Halloween parties were legendary in town. He has only been throwing them for a handful of years, but if you were a young adult in rural Hawkins on Halloween night, chances are you were at this party.

You start to wonder how big this guy’s house must be if a couple hundred people have been attending every year, and it sounded like he even encouraged it.

You can hear the music bumping from the house before you even see it. It's hard to miss, a cluster of cars in the neighborhood, several people walking up the lawn towards the wide-open door. Your roommate’s boyfriend parks down the street, a spot that is probably fine to park overnight due to the nature of the party.

If there is to be a single sober soul at this party, they would be a rare sight.

You tug at your costume as you walk behind the two of them, strutting arm in arm. They’re wearing a matching couple’s costume, as salt and pepper. It’s something they could come up with last minute, him wearing a black shirt for pepper and her a white dress for salt. Their costume is minimal, and certainly they’ll get asked frequently what they’re supposed to be, but when everyone’s intoxicated, you suppose it won’t matter much.

You’re dressed as your favorite iconic Batman villain, Poison Ivy. You loved the character from the DC comics as you grew up and having a year away from your parents and in a different town, you figured it might be a time to try a new daring costume. So here you walk, arms crossed in a small green dress with fake vines pinned across your chest. You opted for some dramatic green eyeshadow and bright red lips, hoping your makeup and costume will sell the look.

Your ears are nearly bursting as you cross the threshold to the front door of the massive house from the loud bumping music. The pop music is a bit obnoxious, but you’re sure you won’t care once some alcohol is in your system.

Your roommate seems to remember you exist, escaping her boyfriend’s arms for the moment and intertwining her arm around yours. She immediately guides you to the kitchen where stacks of red solo cups are sitting, surrounded by bottles of alcohol and soda. “Holy shit.” You mutter.

“I know.” She giggles, handing you a cup and some tequila.

“No thanks.” You push it back, knowing what exactly tequila does to you. “I’ll just do a vodka-sprite.”

As you’re pouring, in waddles a lanky dude with brown curled hair and freckles scattered on his pale skin. “Oh hey, Mandy!” He greets her, stumbling as he toasts his cup. “Haven’t seen you in a while! How’s that boyfriend of yours?” He asks, spinning the lid of the alcohol he’s holding absentmindedly, causing it to flick off into the distance.

“Nate’s good, I think he’s taking over your stereo, though.” She says, moving the bottles around to make Nate’s drink, as well.

“As per usual.” He laughs, pouring a large quantity of said tequila into his cup.

Mandy seems to realize something halfway through her sip. “Oh shit!” She sputters out, a drip of alcohol leaving her mouth. “Sorry, I forgot you two don’t know each other, yet. Y/N, this is Steve. Steve, Y/N.”

“Hi.” You greet him shyly, his confidence radiating, but very intimidating.

“Hello. Me casa e su casa, and whatever, whatever. Can I just ask, who are you supposed to be?” He asks you, gesturing to your costume.

“Oh, Poison Ivy.” You explain to him, sipping on your concoction and wincing when you realize you’ve poured way too much.

Steve blinks at you, seemingly trying to make sense of your costume. “You’re—you’re a plant?”

You laugh, not in the mood to explain comic book villains to someone who clearly doesn’t know anything about them. “Yeah, sure.”

“Oh, cool!” Steve laughs, taking a big sip of his drink.

“Hey, Steve, you see much of Munson these days?” Mandy asks him, wiping her face from the excess drink surrounding her mouth.

How wonderful, more people you don’t know. Hawkins is the smallest town you’ve ever seen; everyone seems to know of everyone.

“Eddie? Yeah, he should be here tonight actually. Super dork, dressed as some character from Star Wars. Or at least I think it’s Star Wars.” He mutters, rolling his eyes in obvious affection for his friends. “He’s matching with Henderson and Wheeler.”

They shake their heads together in tandem at their supposedly dorky friends. As a Star Wars fan, however, you were fine, ecstatic even to hear that there were souls brave enough to dress up as dorky characters and that you weren’t the only one.

You follow Mandy into the living room, now bumping with a tape mix that Nate apparently brought to the party. It's a damn blast, everyone in the living room dancing surrounded by sweaty bodies, finally finding some joy as the strong drink makes you lose your inhibitions. As you continue dancing, suddenly you find yourself in a huddle of people, Mandy and Nate both dancing by you, but lost in their own drunken haze. You don’t care about that. However, something in your mind as you tell yourself you don’t care tells you to care about the person who’s been up against your back for God knows how long.

They have a good rhythm, and they weren’t all too touchy so nothing in your head raised any red flags. You turn around to face the stranger, and it’s like you forget how to breathe. One of his hands is placed on your hip, a smile on his face giving way to dimples that make you swoon. “Hi.” He greets you. You can’t quite hear it over the music, but you can certainly read his lips. Isn’t all that hard to decipher.

You smile back to him, letting a forearm rest on his shoulder. Who were you to deny such a pretty person? His wide smile expands even more, adding some pressure to your hip. The weight and size of his hand sends a thrill through you, and there’s a level of horniness that’s coming from you that you didn’t even know you could have.

Your drink is eventually finished, the cup dropped to the floor, forgetting to bother to throw it away. The gorgeous stranger pulls you in closer and closer as you continue to dance with him, his hands never dipping down past your waist, but you can tell by the steadiness of his grip that he knows how to use them. Usually, eye contact this intense would cause you to retract, looking away after that first glance. This eye contact only makes you want him more, his brown eyes exuding a type of lust you’ve never experienced before.

Or…were you just picturing this?

The hand that rested on your hip moves to frame your face, slender fingers brushing your cheek, caressing it for a half a moment. The hand moves down to hook under your chin, his thumb swiping across your bottom lip. His eyes very obviously stare at your lips, silently asking you for permission. When his tongue licks his bottom lip you nod eagerly, one hand moving to his black curls that you have been itching to touch as long as you’ve faced him.

Somehow, your ears muffle out the deafening music in favor of the chuckle that leaves his mouth. Before you could even register your heartbeat loud in your ears, he bends down to kiss you, and for the first time your brain computes how much taller he is than you. Any thought you might’ve had seems to evacuate the moment his soft lips meet yours. He kisses you with an expertise that makes you irrationally jealous of any other person who’s had the opportunity before you. He draws a sharp inhale as you deepen the kiss, offering more slobber and spit for him to wholeheartedly accept.

His hands tangle in your curled hair, thumbs caressing your face on either side. Something you're learning about this stranger is that he kisses with his whole body, and he knows how to do it well. His teeth graze against your bottom lip, tugging on it lightly. You whimper, shoving your tongue down his throat. A deep laugh escapes his throat as he meets your enthusiasm. He kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheek, and down to your collarbone. You barely sigh into it when his lips leave your collarbone, looking at you with remorse.

Uh oh. Not good. Were you the worst kisser and he was going to go find someone else worthy of his magical skills?

“Sorry, gotta piss. Beer’s hittin’ hard.” He shouts over the music, his thumb gesturing toward where you guessed the bathroom was.

“Ok. I’m gonna go get another drink.” You tell him, noting the red lipstick now all over his lips. “You got some uh…some lipstick there…hold on…” You reach out to wipe it for him, but he deflects, ducking from your thumb humorously.

“Uh…no thanks. I wear this shit with pride.” He explains, giving you a wink. “Meet you in the kitchen.”

You nod, suddenly full of nerves. You have been all over this guy for the last…however long, you couldn’t even tell. And now you’re realizing, he might be a decent dude on top of being a fantastic kisser.

Your legs carry you into the kitchen, running into Mandy and Nate. You weren’t sure where they’d been, having been lost in your own little world.

“Hi, babe!” She greets you, alcohol sharp on her breath. Whoa. She has had a lot more than you have. “I missed you, where the hell you been?”

You giggle, deciding to go for the tequila. After all, it was your literal liquid courage. And if you wanted to get that man’s fingers down your panties tonight, you were gonna need some. “Making out with the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my life.” You proudly proclaim, taking a big sip of just straight tequila before adding some Sprite.

“Oh my god!” She squeals, letting go and forgetting about Nate’s existence. “Holy shit, I’m so fucking proud!” Speaking of him…he waltzes into the kitchen, grabbing a cup right by you and winking, apparently unseen by Mandy. “Shit, I’ve been looking for you!” She tells him, drunkenly tapping her hand on his bicep. “Hey, Y/N! This is Eddie. Remember? The dork Steve talked about earlier?”

Ouch. Mandy has no filter, as of course, she's drunk, but she didn’t have to be rude.

At least now you have a name for him. You were starting to feel bad. “Oh, I’m acquainted.” You tell her, sharing a smirk with Eddie.

“Seriously? Cool.” Mandy answers, not getting the hint. You gesture with your eyes alone to Mandy that Eddie was the guy you were talking about just a few moments ago. She gets it, but apparently forgets all about subtlety. “Wait, Eddie Munson is the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in your life?” She asks you incredulously, like it's the most unbelievable thing she's ever heard.

“Thanks, Mandy.” You grit out, teeth clenched.

“Oops.” She grimaces, grabbing Nate's hand. “We’re gonna go find a spot on the couch to make out. Sorry!”

You roll your eyes affectionately, knowing she meant no harm. Did she have to say it, though?

The smirk on Eddie’s face says everything without saying a word. “So, the hottest guy you’ve ever seen, huh?” He asks, looking incredibly proud of the fact.

You knock your tequila back, needing more liquid courage. “Yep. Hottest.”

His eyebrow raises, and he takes a big sip of his own drink. Maybe he needs his own courage. “Well, you’re probably the sexiest damn Poison Ivy I’ve ever seen.” He smirks, leering at you. His eyes blatantly rake up and down your body, giving you a surge in confidence. “You’re like a little sexy nugget of weed.” He laughs, his words slightly slurred.

“Wait, you get that I’m Poison Ivy?” You ask, finally assessing his costume. Oh, he’s Vader without the mask. “I mean I guess you are the dork they talked about earlier.” Eddie seems slightly sunken by this. “Don’t worry,” you tell him theatrically. “I’m a massive dork, myself.”

He perks up, pulling you in by the waist. “What do you say we find a room upstairs?” He asks, taking another big sip of his drink.

You raise your cup back to your lips, knocking the remainder down fast. “I say, lead the way.”

He grabs you by the hand and leads you up the stairs, pushing some people out of the way that were blocking it in the middle of a conversation. As he leads you down the hall, the music somewhat fades out and you can hear him muttering under his breath. “We better find a guest room cause I’m not hooking up in Harrington’s room, and I’ll be damned if I hook up in his parents' room.”

From that, you’re able to assess that he’s over here enough to know which room belongs to whom. He knocks on one of the doors, swearing softly when someone shouts out. He does it twice more, meeting the same result. “Ok.” He sighs, fingers crossed. He knocks twice, no answer. He knocks once more for good measure, and it can be said that there is definitely no one inside. “Thank fuck.”

As soon as you’re through the door he turns the dimmer switches on lightly and locks the door. You take off the vines, letting the pins and fake plants fall to the floor to make it easier for him to climb on you.

He watches you from the four postered bed, still head to toe in what you now noticed was the caped costume that Darth Vader wears. “So, we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, by the way. If you wanna do hand stuff, we’ll do hand stuff.”

Your gut swoops at his consideration and empathy. He seems to truly care about your comfortability rather than him getting off. You walk to him, swiping off all accessories you wore, including your shoes. You straddle his lap, pushing on him lightly so he falls back onto the bed. You attack his lips with your own, attempting to show how much his consideration for you already has you soaked. “I will do” you whisper in between a handful of kisses, “anything you want me to,” you tell him, starting to grind the tent you feel poking past your dress. “Within reason.” You add for good measure, not quite that down for anything. But if he wants to fuck you, you’re down. You’re so down. You’re so down bad.

“Fuck…do that again.” He asks, holding your hips. You comply, grinding your wet heat against him, teasing yourself, but loving the expression on his face. It's ethereal. “Fuck, baby. You barely touched me, and you already have me falling apart.”

This makes you smile with pride. A huff of laughter escapes your lips, sighing deeply as you can feel his erection growing. The fact that this man is as hard as he is when he’s this good looking is the biggest compliment in the world. You wrap his lips in a kiss again, your tongue peeking out to lick across his lip, managing to tug yet another moan out of him. You relish in the tone, the whimper that follows right after it. He really isn’t afraid to tell you how much he is enjoying what the two of you are doing.

As you continue to explore his tequila-scented mouth, both of his hands cup your ass, feeling his limber fingers bunch up the fabric of the bright green dress you’re wearing. He takes his time, giving you every minute to communicate any second thoughts. You moan impatiently, encouraging him to get under there already.

He chuckles, pulling the rest of the material up swiftly. His fingers grab at the skin of your barely covered ass cheeks roughly, the friction burning in the best way. A whimper escapes your throat, your mouth filling with the taste of him as your tongues meet. You’re sure he’s gripping those cheeks hard enough to bruise, not that you mind.

An increasing need has been growing since you first laid eyes on him, the need for him to touch you in the most sinful of ways. While his touch on your ass is electric, you are ready for much more. Your whimpers echo the thought, feeling needy for more of his touch, your hip movements going from fluid and purposeful to rigid and needy.

“What do you need, hmm?” He asks in-between kisses, one hand pushing up your dress to your waist as it caresses your bare hip. “Use your words, beautiful.”

“Need you to touch me,” the thought leaves your lips without your permission. How dare your brain betray you like that?

Eddie starts to kiss at your jaw, switching between nibbles and his tongue deliciously lapping at the skin. “Like how?” He asks in intervals, his voice soft, yet demanding. “Like this?” He grabs harshly at your ass, nails digging into the soft flesh. “Like this?” He asks again, tingles radiating down your skin as he lightly grazes your hip bone. “Or…like this?” His hand that rested on your hip bone flutters down to where heat radiates off your core, getting a feel of your soaked panties. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking wet.” He mutters, putting some pressure at the top of your mound.

Your hips start desperately grinding against his fingers, needing him to touch you. “Can you blame me?” You ask him, breath stuttering through it.

“Are you trying to flatter me?” He asks, pausing his pressure momentarily and backing off to study you. You stutter through an empty response, and he laughs kindly. “Cause flattery works, sweetheart.” His fingers move past the cotton barrier he's been making small circles against, delicately tracing along the wetness of your folds. You’re so slick, it’s like a damn slip and slide. The moment his fingers make contact with you, they’re soaked and in your juices.

“Oh shit—” you stutter, grinding on him helplessly. You can barely focus, your arms weak as you’re suddenly unable to hold your weight as you collapse on him. He's not touching you purposely, but just the feel of him sends a ripple down your spine. “Feels good.”

“Hmm.” He answers, noting the way you’re writhing so beautifully on top of him. He knew he would have you in a mess. In fact, he looked forward to it from the moment he saw you. He meticulously moves you onto your back, taking in your wide-eyed stare with a smirk. “Gonna take these off.” He mutters, fingers moving to the waistband of your panties. “Need a good look at you.”

You’re not entirely sure what he means until you see the look on his face as he stares at your pussy for the first time. His darkened stare, the slack smile he wears as he stares at you. Well not you, just the most vulnerable part of you. You’ve had a bit of experience in high school, but no one ever looked at your pussy like this. Like…it’s…

“Beautiful.” Eddie whispers, licking his lips. You watch him as he takes you in, admiring how wanted he makes you feel. Without a warning he lurches forward in between your legs, his tongue licking one long strip up your slick. Your thighs convulse, the pleasure so red hot, you can’t control the choked-out moan that escapes your lips if you tried. “Oh, you’re shaking, baby.”

His tongue moves more purposely to your clit, sucking on it and tapping with his tongue repeatedly. Your thighs clamp around his face, tensing up as every goddamn nerve is set on fire. You feel a slight huff of laughter against your puffy clit, the breath tickling you, causing you to giggle from the sensation. The giggle leads into a whimper, the small movements of his tongue sending you into overdrive. “Feels so—oh my god—I—” You stutter, unable to finish a single sentence.

He tugs your legs, forcing your knees against your chest to get even closer. A fierce heat starts in your stomach, startling the hell out of you. A great build slowly moves you, pushing you step by step over a high you’ve never reached before. Your stomach has never coiled so tightly, the heat never so intense. “Too much, too much.”

“You’re almost there, sweetheart.” He encourages you, watching every muscle in your legs tighten and feeling your abdomen tighten and release. “Oh, it’s gonna feel so good, baby. Wanna see you cum for me, see you fall apart, hear that pretty little mouth make the prettiest noises.”

Eddie slips a finger in, pumping it slowly at first, building up the speed quickly as he continues sucking. There’s something in you telling you to be embarrassed at how quickly your orgasm has snuck up on you, but from the foreplay of his expert lips and the mind-numbing words, it only makes sense.

“Cl-close…” You manage out, the heat making your way through your body, even making a stop in your head.

“Let me see you come apart, sweetheart.” He tells you, working his fingers at an unmatched rate.

The sensation sends you over the edge, your extremities shaking uncontrollably. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, a near primal moan leaves your mouth, a sound you didn’t even know you had the capability of making.

It takes you a minute to recover, Eddie working you through your whole orgasm and gently kissing your thighs until you come back to. He’s patient, waiting until your breathing slows down, kissing his way up your half-dressed torso. Eddie rests his body on yours, the tent in his pants meeting the heat of your center as his forearms support his weight on either side of your head. His thumbs sway at your temple, slowly watching as your eyes lose their glaze.

Your vision finally focuses back on him, his soft smile on his face welcoming as he watches you. His legs tense up, his muscles spasming as he resists thrusting into your heat. It’s teasing you, your hips accidentally moving upwards to meet the now wet stain on his polyester costume. “You’re wearing too much.” You tell him, whining softly.

“I’m sorry, should I take these off?” He asks, kissing you rapidly on the face right after. “Or if you’re done, I don’t blame you.”

“Done?” You ask incredulously. “Oh no, I’m not even close to done.” You tell him, giggling when he gives you a smirk.

“Just checking, sweetheart.” Eddie replies, kissing you rapidly again.

You’re finally back on earth, your hands reaching around him to look for where his costume opens. You had a feeling it would open from the back. You pull each Velcro apart one by one, your hands telling you as you move down that he’s not wearing anything underneath. You don't know if it's odd or the hottest thing in the world. Both, definitely both.

Your nails scratch at his skin at the last one, finally taking the shoulders off. You gasp as he helps you take out each arm awkwardly, only because you could finally see all the tattoos that his costume has covered up. “Holy shit.” You mutter, hands reaching out to palm at each one.

As he mouths at your neck, you push the rest of his costume down, figuring out it was a one piece. Ok. Steve might’ve been right about calling him a dork. But with his cunnilingus skills, who fucking cares? “You wanna fuck?” He asks, making his way down your neck, one hickey at a time.

You wrap your legs around his waist, tugging him down so the thin fabric meets your soaked pussy even harder. “Please?”

“When you ask so nicely, how could I deny?” He answers, leaving one last final nibble on your shoulder. He gets up without a warning, and you whine pathetically. “Jus’ takin off my pants sweetheart. Can’t put my dick in you if it’s still covered.”

You watch him pull down his pants, teasing you as it makes its way down his torso, his treasure trail, the v-line, you start drooling the moment his cock pops out. You figured he was big from his bulge pressed against you, but the material was apparently holding him back from his true length. You spend a good minute staring at it, how pink the head is, how thick he looks, it made you nearly feral.

“Enjoying the show?” Eddie asks. You glance back up at his face, heating up when you realize you've stared a lot longer than planned.

“Mmmhmm.” You tell him, not seeing any need to deny.

He lurches forward onto the bed, yanking giggles out of you. His hands roughly move up your torso to take your dress off, moving it over your head. He throws it over his shoulder, eyes raking in your tits like they’re in the Louvre. Hell, he’d take a polaroid and hang it there, despite the risk of security arresting and escorting him out immediately after.

“You are fucking gorgeous, baby.” He mutters, leaning into one of your tits mouthing at the nipple delicately, grazing it with his teeth, turning the mound into a shade of purple.

You can’t help yourself, reaching down to grab his cock. “Need you in me.” You urge him, smiling when he lets out a surprised whimper.

“Fucking—” he stutters out, biting on his lip. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I can do that.” He laughs, and before you have a moment to admire how adorable that was, you feel him line himself up. “Shit, you’re fucking tight.”

You can feel exactly what he means, the head barely pushing in. Even with how wet you are, Eddie's having difficulty pushing into you. Your mouth drops open, panting through it at the blinding pain and pleasure. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust. “Feels so goddamn good, Ed.” You gasp, blindly reaching for him.

Blindly, because your eyes are unable to stay open from the sheer pleasure that has taken over your body.

“I know, baby I know.” He whispers, holding one hand to your face.

“Ok.”

He pushes in more, eliciting a high-pitched whine out of you. “You have any idea how fucking hot those little noises that you make are?” He asks, his voice husky and strained.

You laugh at his successful attempt at flattery, causing him to whine at the way your pussy tightens around him in sync. “Keep going.”

He pushes in a little bit more, your legs tensing around his torso as the noise caught in your throat is even louder. “You’re taking me so well, baby, what a good girl.” You tighten up at his praise, provoking Eddie to get the idea that praise is something that you desire. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you, my good girl?” You tighten around him again, Eddie twitching in you as a response.

“More.” You manage out, your voice guttural. He pushes in just a little bit more. “Oh my god, you’re in my fucking stomach, so fucking deep!” You whine, eyes closed as you pulse around him.

“Just a little bit more, baby. You’re doing so well, such a good girl.”

“More.”

He pushes the rest of his cock in, finally able to rest his body on yours. You take your time adjusting to his size, inhaling, and exhaling with purpose as the pain subsides. “That’s a girl, take your time.” He mutters, watching you carefully.

“Kiss me please.” You whisper, opening your eyes to face the intensity radiating from his chocolate brown ones. He leans in for a lush kiss, your legs wrapping around him to pull him in tightly. His hand moves to your tit, playing with the nipple between two of his fingers. Your tongues meet, somehow knowing exactly what the other needs. “You can move now.” You whisper in between kisses.

Eddie, apparently a master at multitasking, lifts his hips without so much as stuttering in the kiss. You expected him to stop, but the new mix of sensation throws you off intensely. His first thrust causes you to shout directly into his mouth. You’re much more prepared for the second thrust, however unprepared for the force behind it. “Yeah?” He asks, pulling back and staring into your eyes.

You nod enthusiastically. “So good. Cock feels…so good.” You whine to him, legs unable to continue holding onto him as tight as they were. Now they’re floating in the air aimlessly, unable to focus on much except for how good and how deep he is. “How…this good?” The question you meant to ask was how he was so good at fucking like this, but your mouth was unable to form a single coherent sentence.

“Barely been in you for a minute, and you’re already cock-drunk, huh?” He borderline mocks you, fucking you faster with each thrust.

You grunt in response, fully accepting the label of cock drunk. “So…good, Eddie!” It’s just…fucking true, which is the only rational thought in your brain for the moment. Others are So Hot, and Big Ass Cock, and finally, Gorgeous fucking body.

“Your pretty pussy is so tight, baby, bein’ such a good girl for me.” Eddie sits up, pulling your ass down to where he can fuck you in a better position where he can hit your g-spot. He rests a hand sideways on your lower tummy, putting slight pressure on it. This sends a blinding hot pleasure into you as he repeatedly hits that spot.

“F-fuck, get-getting cl-close…” you stutter, feeling your tits bounce at the sheer force he's fucking you with.

“This is fucking embarrassing, but so am I, baby.” He mutters, starting to go at a faster rate, which you would've deemed impossible a few seconds ago. “Your pussy is so fucking good, can’t fuckin’ help myself.”

You half giggle, half moan at the flattery, not minding for one moment that he would cum so quickly. After all, he spent the first half paying most of his attention to you, so you understand if he's been pent up. While that is the reality of why, you can’t help but feel like hot shit for making someone as fantastic as Eddie cum so fast. His stamina and willingness to give on top of how gorgeous he is does nothing but boost your ego.

“Cum with me.” You beg him, also on the edge. “Cum in me.”

“Oh my god—” you make his hips stutter, and you smile with pride. “You sure, baby?” He asks, trying to make sure he covers his tracks.

“Cum in me, please, daddy!” It leaves your mouth before you’re unable to stop it, the daddy kink not quite something you break out on the first fuck most of the time.

Eddie, however, is a different breed. He meets the unexpected outburst with a growl, and you swear his cock twitches inside of you. “Of course, baby girl, whatever you want.” He grunts out. “Daddy is gonna fill you the fuck up.” He lurches forward so he’s skin on skin with you again so he can whisper in your ear. “When we go back downstairs, I’m gonna keep your panties, and you're gonna dance with my cum dripping down your fucking legs.” You tighten up around him, telling Eddie this is exactly what you wanted from him. The sweet mixture of praise and degradation makes your head spin with need. “You like that, huh? Of course, you’d like that you fucking slut.” His hips rut harshly against yours and at a stupid crazy speed. “If I catch you trying to clean yourself up, you’re gonna fucking hear about it, got it?”

You nod, entirely thrilled about this.

“Didn’t fuckin hear you, slut.”

“Got it, daddy.” You answer, right on the edge.

“You gonna cum with me, baby girl?” He asks, his voice strained.

“Mmhmm. Waiting for you.”

“Good fucking girl. I’m so close…fuck…gonna—” Eddie is interrupted by his own orgasm, which sends you over the edge with him. It’s not as intense as your last one, so you’re able to pay extra attention to the look on his face. His mouth half open, a deep moan leaving his throat. Oh god, you’ll definitely be remembering this next time it’s only you and your imagination.

He collapses on you, his chest and forehead covered in sweat. The only sound in the air is you and Eddie catching your breath together. Your breath is finally back in your lungs, but your heart is still racing against his chest. He suddenly sits himself back on his forearms, petting at your forehead and hair gently. “Fuck, please go out with me on Saturday.” He whispers, quietly assessing the expression you wear on your face.

“Huh?” You ask him, unsure you heard him correctly.

“Go out with me on Saturday. Please, I can’t fuck a pussy this good and not take you out on a hot date.” He mutters softly, placing the gentlest of kisses on your lips.

“If you think I’m letting you go after this, you’re fucking insane.” You whisper back, framing his face to grab it for another lush kiss.

Eddie sighs, petting your hair. “Thank fucking god.” He pulls out of you, tugging a whimper out of you. He gives one last kiss, before moving down your torso. You almost ask what he was doing, when you feel two of his fingers push inside you quickly.

Your head jerks up, wondering what in the ever-living hell he's doing.

“Just helping by pushing the cum back in you, baby. Wanted to give you at least a fighting chance before it starts dripping down these stunning thighs of yours.” He places a wet kiss on your thigh, one last quiver radiating through it. “You good to stand up?”

“Hope so.” You laugh, scooching your ass down the plain comforter. Eddie tosses you your dress and gets dressed back into his cheap costume himself.

You assess Eddie, fixing his hair so he doesn’t look so disheveled. “You realize my lipstick is all over your neck and face, right?” You ask him, assessing him in all his post-nut glory. How the fuck is anyone this hot?

“Didn't I tell you earlier that I'm gonna wear this shit with pride, darlin?” He asks you, giving you a smile that makes you melt. “Wanna go downstairs and make-out on Steve's dad’s stupid chair?”

“If we make out I might wanna blow you.” You admit, the effects of the alcohol and the level of his hotness has still completely taken over your brain.

Eddie groans, and you swear his pupils dilate. “Fuck, I’ll take you into the nearest hallway closet if that happens, then you can get on your knees and suck my cock off like a good girl. You just tell me, yeah?”

You giggle as he opens the door and you nod enthusiastically, pretty much already in your head that hooking up with Eddie is nowhere near done.

When you reach the bottom of the steps, Eddie tugs on your hand straight to the leather chair in the corner, having you sit across his lap as his tongue makes its way down your throat again.

Eventually, after a mere ten minutes of teasing, Eddie has to lead you to a hallway closet, where yes, you worship him on your knees with his treasure trail meeting your nose.

That was the best fucking Halloween, ever.

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

#eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader

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catboyieejeno · 3 months

Text

gameboy :: p.js — one

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

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18+ minors do not interact!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sung? Sung!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck even was that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit, shit, shit.

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

“Hello?”

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

“Sung?”

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

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

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

He hears you yawn and smiles fondly.

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

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

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

God, no, he thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could it be… No. No way.

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

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

“Park Jisung?”

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

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

“You’re welcome, Professor.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Will we be able to select our partners?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

“She was obnoxious, you have no idea!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

I know! He thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

“No!” Wow. Good going, Jisung.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How so?”

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

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

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

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

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

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah… he’ll think more on that later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like an e-date?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

“I like you, too.”

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 6:49PM

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

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 8:22 PM

you’re so cute

i can barely think

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 9:14 PM

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

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 10:58 PM

i should get to sleep

but i don’t wanna stop texting you

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 12:02 AM

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

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

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

“Your partner will be,”

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

“Lee Chan.”

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

“Your constellation is-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this seat taken?”

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

“No.” He replies shortly.

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

“You’re Ji-sun, right?”

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

“W-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any of those work for me,”

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

Feeling slightly more confident, he types up his message.

To: 555-111-0205

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

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

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

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

“Hi-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, right.” Chenle scoffs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Computer Lab 4C?”

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

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

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

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

To: 555-111-0205

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jisung? You okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You live close by?”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll see you in class?” he asks.

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

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

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

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

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

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

“Hi…”

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

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

“I-thanks but,”

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

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

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

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

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—then she’ll be there, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you know if Chaewon is here?”

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

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

“Yo, what do you mean bounce?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mark, there’s so many girls here.”

“I know, but—”

“But Chaewon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you I don’t wanna—Jisung?”

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

“What are you doing out here?”

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

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

“I’m fine—“

“This should help,”

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

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

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

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

“How about the library?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you nod eagerly, “let’s go.”

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

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

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

“Foul.”

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

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

“I can tell. You’re stumbling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Jisung.”

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

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

“Yeah, I’m almost done!”

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

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

“You’re Ji-sun, right?”

“—Sung.”

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

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

Could it be…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!”

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

“Sung? Right? That’s you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Since when did you know it was me?”

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

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

“I was so excited when I found out,”

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

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

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

“You’re really pretty in person.”

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

“What’s that—”

“Oh nothing! It’s just—”

“Is that my cardigan?”

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

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

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

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

“Jisung.”

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

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

“I-”

“Were you?” You ask sternly.

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

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

“Show me.”

*. * ·

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

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

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nonexistent-introvert · 11 months

Text

Bad mood

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Content: fluff, jealous Miguel, the getting injured trope AGAIN, swearing. hobie and the gang messing around, lyla playing matchmaker

A/N: i got carried away oops. He may be off character im sorry but i really think this man needs some fluff.

“What’s up with her?” Gwen asked, watching as you stomped through headquarters with a frown. “Everyone got their bad days,” Pavitr stated, chomping on his Spiderman 2099-themed burger. “Remind me not to get on her bad side.” Gwen watched as the other Spidermen scurried out of your way. “She could match up to Miguel's bad temper..”Peter stood with an amused smile with Mayday napping in the baby carrier he had on his front.

=========================.

You were not having it at all the entire week. You were busy enough with the missions you had and now, you still had to babysit a man-child. Now, you stood in said man-child’s office, watching his platform slowly descend while he kept his back facing towards you like he was in some cliche spy movie and was trying to hide his identity from you. You could almost picture him saying the iconic “I’ve been expecting you” and turned around. You rolled your eyes at the sight of him, your patience thinning with every passing second.

“Hey! Perfect timing!” Lyla waved frantically from her side beside Miguel. Miguel grunted and groaned, waving Lyla away. Lyla popped up in front of your face and you instinctively took two steps back at how close she was to you. “Miguel’s not getting help- again.” Lyla rolled her eyes at the last word. Lyla popped up next to Miguel again, pointing at his side and the blood that was slowly dripping down from the gash. You could hear Miguel curse in Spanish and grunt before turning away from you further in an attempt to hide his injury. You simply closed your eyes, taking a few calming breaths.

“O’Hara. Go to the med-bay.” You stated in a low voice. “I’m fine, Lyla’s exaggerating-” Miguel stopped talking when his eyes met your figure. There was a menacing aura around you, one that Miguel will not admit scared him. “O’Hara” You warned and he shuddered slightly at the mention of his last name. You only used his last name when you were mad at him or trying to annoy him and he doubted it was the latter. You slammed the files you were holding onto the floor. “Lyla, make sure he doesn’t injure himself further. I’ll be back.” You simply said before waltzing right out of his office again. “Will do!” Lyla shouted after you. “Great! You pissed her off. Way to go Lyla!” Miguel said sarcastically as he sat down on the chair while his platform was still in the midst of descending. “Don’t push the blame, Miguel. It’s you she is mad at. I can’t believe you even managed to piss her off! She used to be all smiley and stuff and now she’s acting like you with the permanent scowl on her face.” Lyla nagged.

Miguel’s jaw dropped at your request when you returned. He stared at the wheelchair that you had just pushed into his office. “I can walk perfectly fine.” He insisted, trying his best to stand as straight as possible while holding the cloth to his side. “It was already a fucking miracle you didn’t bleed out while you waited for the stupid platform to descend. You still wanna tempt fate?” You asked, staring at the white cloth that you had brought him slowly turn into a crimson-red cloth. “I don’t- can’t you bring the supplies needed to treat me here? Or?” Miguel trailed off, noticing the glare on your face.

He sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat before he sat down begrudgingly onto the wheelchair.

=====

Miguel’s face burned in embarrassment while he sat in the wheelchair. His face was almost as red as the bloodied cloth that he was still holding to his side. Judgemental glances were passed around any of the rooms that he passed while you pushed him in the wheelchair. He did try to gauge your reaction but all he noticed was your very tight grip on his wheelchair and scowl on your face. Maybe Lyla was right, you were turning out to be a grump like him.

“Everyone saw that right?” Pavitr’s choked on the fries he was eating, as he watched you push an injured Miguel on a wheelchair. “I- I don’t think I can take him seriously again.” Gwen found it hilarious to see Miguel in a wheelchair acting like a pouty child that had just been scolded but it was also combined with the shock and disbelief of seeing the usual stoic leader sitting in a wheelchair. “Heh, I knew he was scared of her,” Peter remarked. Pavitr and Gwen turned to look at Peter, “Hey, when she’s angry, she’s a force to be reckoned with.” He spoke in experience although Peter will never tell anyone what he did to piss you off. For now, he could only pray that Miguel doesn’t get burned in the flames of your anger. “I’ll help!” A medic immediately came forward when you entered the med bay. Miguel stared intently at you, you sighed, he had only came on one condition. That you were the one to patch him up, you couldn’t even wash your hands off Miguel O’Hara if you wanted to. “No.” You simply said before pushing him off to a private ward.

“Lie down.” You instructed. Miguel did as you told, turning his head so he can watch you put on the gloves and your usual white lab coat you wore when you helped out in the med-bay.

“Dizziness, anything yet?” You asked, the anger in your tone has simmered but is not fully gone. He recognized the tone, it was a professional tone of a doctor. “Um no-?” He frowned, “I already told you- I’m fine-” Miguel stopped again when you took the bloodied cloth from him and his suit immediately covered his skin back up. “Remove the fucking projection O’hara.” You cursed, taking the resources you needed. “You know I’m-” “Just the top.” You answered, pinching the bridge of your nose. Miguel’s suit slowly revealed his skin to you and you had to take a breath. You always forgot that he literally had muscles that seemed to be sculpted by a skilled clay artist.

You heartlessly sprayed the alcohol into his wound to sanitize it. Miguel’s muscles tightened as he groaned, arching his back ever so slightly at the burn. “You weren’t gonna give me a heads up?” He gritted out through clenched teeth. “I thought you would prefer to get it over with.” You stated plainly, hiding the intention that you wanted to get back at him for acting like a child.”Can’t you be more gentle?” He complained when you did your work. You gave him an annoyed look, “I could knock you out.” You suggested. “That may help.” He looked over to you, trying his best to hold back his pained grunts. “I will actually knock you out with my hands to get a few moments of silence.” Miguel remained silent as his fists clenched by his side.

Your fingers traced against one of his old injuries, staring at the abomination of messily done stitches you were sure Miguel stubbornly did on himself. “Fucking hell.” You cursed out loud. “I ran out of drugs” He replied sheepishly, the drug he relied on to help him close the wound instead of stitching a would hold traditionally. “You didn’t think to- I don’t know, visit the Med-bay? In the very headquarters, you set up?” You asked sarcastically.

“It turned out fine,” Miguel argued. “Yeah? And you’re already on the verge of ripping the stitches out yourself.” You snarked. “I don’t even want to know how you managed to angle yourself to stitch this up” Your head pounded with a headache while you redid his stitches.

Miguel O’Hara was a constant headache you couldn’t get rid of.

========

When Miguel finally got back to the comfort of his office. He sighed in relief having argued with you about resting in his office instead of the Medbay. “Lyla!” You called out, Miguel still in the wheelchair in front of you. “Yes!” She appeared before you, chuckling at the sight of Miguel. “No missions for two weeks. And make sure he’s in bed by 10pm” you instructed. Miguel clicked his tongue in annoyance as he climbed back into his office chair while Lyla reassured you that she will keep a close eye on Miguel and will inform you if he misbehaved.

When you turned to leave, he held onto your wrist. His grip was firm but not tight enough to hurt you. He suddenly soothed the crease in between your eyebrows when you frowned. You looked at him in disbelief. What the hell is he up to now? “You look prettier without the frown.” He simply said with a soft look. “Are the drugs kicking in?” You asked, still taken aback at his sudden actions. Miguel cursed internally at himself, did he just attempt to flirt? He was way too rusty when it came to this.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked with a soft tone. You closed your eyes, “Just-rest, and leave me alone.” You sighed. “Are you mad at me?” He repeated again, this time with the usual authority in his voice. The tone he used with the other Spidermen. You looked up at him, he didn’t scare you anymore.

“Are you blushing?” You pointed out the pink tint on his cheeks. His eyes widened, “Vasodilation is common when you’re injured no?” He made up an excuse. Miguel smirked lightly when he saw the ends of your lips quirk up slightly. “Sure…” you said, not pushing him further. Even if he wished you did.

“Big boss!” Miguel groaned at Hobie’s voice.

You naturally smiled at Hobie as you returned the two-finger sauté he gave to you in greeting. Miguel noticed it of course, how easily your frown went away when you saw Hobie. “Oh, you left your jumper at my place dear.” Hobie reminded while you walked out. “Shit man, I’ll swing around soon for it. It’s my favorite.” You laughed. Hobie grinned, “I know it is. Even took the liberty to wash it for ya.”

When you left, let’s just say Hobie got the brunt of Miguel’s temper.

======

“Miguel!” You called out to him upon entering his office. “Yes, I am not moving around Lyla,” Miguel replied mindlessly. You laughed, in a much better mood than last week. “I’m glad to hear that Miguel!” Miguel’s head turned at record speed, his eyes widening at the sight of you, and how the usual smile you always had seemed to have made its way back onto your face, replacing the frown that you wore last week.

Miguel, he missed hearing his name fall from your lips. Miguel turned in his seat, “Are you feeling better?” You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” He chuckled lightly, pressing on the screens before him. “I’m fine. Like I have always told you.” He replied, his eyes scanning your frame.

Miguel noticed the jumper you wore over your spider suit. He also knew that it was the jumper you always wore, and it may just be the jumper that Hobie mentioned last week. “Why the long face?Mad that you’re stuck indoors?” You asked with a teasing grin. Miguel let out a huff, “You need to focus on the missions.” He stated sternly. “Am I not?” You frowned, you were pretty sure you were on track on your missions. Miguel simply shot you a glance over his broad shoulders, “I don’t think any of the missions require you to go to Hobie’s dimension does it?” He questioned with his eyebrows raised in suspicion. “What I do in between missions is none of your business Miguel.” You folded your arms over your chest in defense. Miguel tried his best to pretend that those words didn’t bruise him by busying himself with the orange screens in front of him.

“Is that jealousy I sense?” Lyla popped out of thin air, teasing Miguel.

“There’s no rule stating that a Spiderman aren’t allowed to go over to other spidermen dimensions right?”

“I thought it was an unspoken rule,” Miguel replied, he knew about how many of the spidermen tend to travel to other dimensions for the fun of it. He understood that his headquarters served as a place of social hangout for the Spidermen and that many of them have formed friendships with each other, meaning that they spent time together in different dimensions outside of missions. He couldn’t bring himself to make it a strict rule that traveling to different dimensions was prohibited. However, it was known to be heavily discouraged and that spidermen would take responsibility for any consequences.

“I’m sorry.” you apologized, pushing yourself off the wall you were leaning on. Miguel closed his eyes, trying to erase the guilt he felt upon seeing the look on your face. You approached him upon seeing that his platform has finally descended. A smirk tugged on your lips as you pulled the wheelchair that was on the platform in front of his chair.

“I made sure he will only move around in that wheelchair and that was enough to keep him in here.” Lyla proudly announced. You bit back a smile at the pink tint across Miguel's cheeks. “I don’t think they will ever get over it.” You laughed, the cafeteria still buzzed with the news upon seeing their boss in a wheelchair.

Miguel was wearing a black t-shirt instead of his usual suit. Miguel naturally lifted up his black shirt for you. “It looks good.” You simply commented, trying your best to not blush at the sight of his body. “It better be.” Miguel snarled. “Then I guess I’m off work early today!” You celebrated, grinning as you pulled his shirt down, your fingertips gracing his muscles ever so slightly.

A look of disappointment flashed across Miguel’s face. You didn’t notice but Lyla did. “Just ask her already.” Lyla rolled her eyes. “Ask me what?” You immediately asked, A curious glint in your eye. Miguel waved his hands frantically trying to shoo Lyla away. “Nothing.” He says.

Lyla groans as she appears on the other side of Miguel. “He’s been dying to find out “ Miguel swatted her hologram away, “Are you and Hobie a thing?” Lyla finally forced out. Miguel’s shoulders slumped in defeat while silence filled the office.

The silence only filled the office for a few moments that lasted way too long in Miguel’s opinion before you burst into laughter. “Me and Hobie?-” Miguel has never felt more embarrassed than now as you kept on laughing at the fact that Miguel thought that Hobie and you were dating. “It’s none of my business.” Miguel cleared his throat. “Why did you even think that?” You questioned, trying your best to hold back your laughter. “Well, he makes you smile and laugh.”

“Miguel, I laugh and smile at anything.” You deadpanned. “He just seems to be able to make you happy even when you’re down,” Miguel stated plainly. “You know? Because you smiled at Hobie despite being grumpy the whole of last week?” Lyla reminded, getting impatient with the pace of the conversation. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as you realised what Miguel meant. “Oh, that’s because I was mad at you and not him.” You said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So I was right, you were mad at me.” You nodded. “Can I finally know why?” Miguel’s eyes were boring into yours. You leaned back against the wheelchair, turning your head as you sighed.

“Because I was fucking worried Miguel.” You rubbed your nose with your knuckles. It was a nervous habit of yours. “You were getting injured left and right and then you work non-stop to finish up on the reports. To make matters worse, you even head out for more missions afterward and refuse to let anyone help you. You’re not a fucking machine Miguel, you need the rest.” Miguel’s eyes widened, he never knew that his unhealthy work habits were noticed by you. He kept quiet until you finally met his eyes. “I’m sorry cariño.” Miguel muttered, “I didn’t mean to make you worried.” He says while his hand gently caresses your knee.

A mischievous glint lit up in his eyes. “No, no. I don’t know what you’re thinking but no.” You immediately recognized that look in his eyes. He chuckled lightly, glancing over to Lyla for moral support. Lyla jumped with poms-poms in her hands, egging him on like a cheerleader. “I’ll rest even better and for a longer period of time. Under one condition.” He proposed. You raised your eyebrows at him in question.

“You go out on a date with me.” There, he finally asked you out.

Your eyes widened and your hand immediately went to cover your face in an attempt to hide the blush that was creeping onto your cheeks. The wheelchair you were sitting on slowly rolled backward in your shock. Miguel chuckled, stopping the wheelchair right before it rolls away from him. “You can’t leave me hanging like this cariño.”

“Stop with the cariño, I can’t think properly when you call me that.” You answered flusteredly. Miguel smirked, “And why is that?” You wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face so badly.

“Fine, Ok! I’ll go out with you!” You shouted, standing up abruptly from the wheelchair. Your ears were turning red from how flustered you were. The sound of fireworks filled the office thanks to Lyla while you walked out. Miguel trying his best to not laugh at how flustered you were. “See you at 8pm this evening!” He shouted after you just as you walked out in utter embarrassment.

----

Bonus: "Miguel will kill you." Gwen stated. The group was gathered around a picture that Hobie was holding, a picture of Miguel O'hara himself pouting while sitting in a wheelchair. "He won't" Hobie shrugged confidently. "Not when the photo is taken by" Hobie gestures to you, bouncing on your feet nervously while you waited for your coffee to be served. "They went on a date?" Peter exclaimed in surprise, Hobie gave him a confirming nod.

"Who on earth started this," Miguel sighed, getting more and more irritated by the second while staring at the noticeboard that was in the cafeteria. You simply laughed at the title. "What is big boss up to this week?" Below it was pictures of Miguel in a wheelchair, him sitting in his office in comfortable clothes and the last picture was a picture of him in a formal western suit with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. The same bouquet that was in a flower pot in your house now.

#miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spider man #spider-man #into the spider verse #spider verse #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #spiderman atsv #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x you

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lichenes · 1 month

Note

vincent renzi nsfw alphabet? :3

Thank you for the ask anon ;D

I figured this would be the best way to start writing nsfw soooo :3c

Giggling. kicking my feet literally. If you want me to elaborate on any particular letter feel free to lmk :]

I tried to make it as gn as possible :p

Vincent Renzi x gn!reader

CW: Less descript-y than my usual works, different format basically, kinda drifted from the nsfw-ness of it in a few of the subpoints lol, NSFW

wc: (excluding the template) 1,2k

_____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿____

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I feel like he would kiss you through your orgasm and after you've both come off your high he would get up lazily still basking in the afterglow... He would look so good doing it too, his tired eyes observing your still heaving chest. He would ask you if you need anything and provide it for you. A caring partner thats for sure.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also yours)

In this context- he likes his own fingers. You clearly like his hands and he confronted you about it jokingly a few times to tease you. The first time he uses them on you, oh mon dieu... His favourite part of you are your eyes. To look into them while you cum is like heaven to him. While he eats you out he likes to keep eye contact if possible...

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I wouldn't say he's obsessed with you swallowing his cum. He is a tad bit opposed, being familiar with the risks it carries with it. He wouldn't be completely against it so if you feel like it, go for it.

D = Dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

He's a massive yearner. He'd never tell you that but he made a social media account solely to stalk you on it and not for work like he assured you. He would gaze lovingly at your pictures if you post any or just stare at the blank profile picture icon imagining what you were doing at the time.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Mostly, he was pretty vanilla for most his life so if you want to try anything kinkier you should research it together to give him the security of knowing. When it comes to the basic things, fingering, eating out, different positions, he passes with flying colours.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Whatever you're comfortable with and whichever ones he can see your face in. He's obsessed with your face contorting into expressions of pleasure or pain if youre into it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He stays pretty serious for most of the time, teasing you if he feels bold that day. When he feels like you're in a bad mood he tries his best to cheer you up in... many ways. He doesn't crack jokes at random times while you have sex though.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's a clean man that's all I can say. His carpet does indeed match the drapes. And most importantly he cares for your comfort which makes him trim himself quite often. When it comes to his facial hair he sometimes forgets to shave and his moustache comes in. He noticed that that's when you make love most passionately so he sometimes 'accidentally' forgets to shave, when he's feeling particularly needy.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Oh big romantic type, the first time you had sex he did the whole, rose petals on the floor, candles lit and all. Every time you have sex it's a special occasion and he feels obligated to make it seem so every time. During the moment he's very tender with you, kissing you and whispering sweet nothings into your ears...

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Remember that social media account I was talking about earlier? The first time the thought crossed his mind to masturbate to your pictures he got so flustered he had to go to the bathroom and splash cold water on his face to get rid of the thought. After he has aquired your photos though he does it with only a twinge of embarrassment.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He's big into undressing you if you, the act of stripping your clothes from your perfect body, lord, he couldn't imagine anything as arousing. He is a vanilla man up untill it comes to you riding him. When he's in that state you could convince him to do anything.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your bed, your patio on the outdoor sofa. You tried to convince him to go at it in his office at the law firm he works at but he got too flustered just at the thought and thought that he'd die of a heart attack if you were to actualise your fantasy.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As previously mentioned, undressing you. It's not like he's a complete maniac, taking your shirt off in front of him won't make him faint but he still will get a little flustered. Begging. That's it. He also loves seeing you relaxed. Whenever you're lounging on the sofa he gets the urge to make you just a bit more tense...

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I feel like he wouldn't degrade you unless you begged for it. He is also against impact play, but he's a covenantal man. Talk to him about it and you shall see.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving or recieving is fine. He's a master at eating pussy and if you aren't comfortable with oral he won't force you to do it. He will happily welcome it thought, giving you tips as you go.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Highly depends on his mood. If he's feeling particularly foul he won't have any qualms to pound you into the matress. If he's upset he'll go slow and sensual to relay to you how much you mean to him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers longer sessions to quickies. Fervency isn't what fuels him most so he prefers to go slow.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He likes experimenting, with certain limits of course. He prefers not to take risks, a calm and calculated man he is. When he warms up to you though, you could convince him to do it outside your bedroom (ex. the sofa on the patio).

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

When angry or self concious he can go for many rounds, his stamina knows no bounds when he's mad. Normally, he prefers 1-2 rounds a happy medium.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on you or themselves?)

He doesn't own any toys as he's too embarrassed to buy them, online or at brick-and-mortar. If you use any, he likes using them on you during your raptures to rile you up even more.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh this man adores teasing. Especially when he can see that you're too self-assured that day, he likes breaking down your barriers of faux confidence and making you melt in his grasp.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Aside from occasional grunts and moans he isn't very vocal. He loves listening to your sounds though. This man is generally lovestruck by you. With little sounds comes how quiet he is. Maybe that little office endeavour could happen then?

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I think he would go feral if you were to wear lingere for your first time with him. He is definitely a flatterer but he would be talking and thinking about you on the bed just in those perfectly enveloping you bra and panties... MON DIEU.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He is on the lean side with his medium height statue perfectly complimenting his overall shape... What? Oh yeah his dick. That's what this subpoint is about. He's hung, not uncomfortably so that you couldn't take him all at once but enough to not be able to put it in without some prep first.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Once again he will do it as often as you like, it all depends on you. Although once he's desperate he won't hold back on you and go at it for hours...

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After clean up, he falls asleep in your arms pretty quickly spent from all the lovemaking. Sometimes he stays still just to face your sleeping form and watch your peacefull demeanor, safe from all the evils of the world when in his embrace.

_____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿____

masterlist

#vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi #swann arlaud #anatomy of a fall #writing #ask #send asks #:D #headcanons #vincent renzi headcanons

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simp4wom3n · 1 year

Text

Celebrity Crush

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Reader

Requested: Yes/No ~ request @meimei-a

Summary: Y/N has been simping over Jenna for years. What happens when Y/N finally gets noticed by her celebrity crush. (Y/F/M = your favourite movie) ~ Word Count: 2,190 ~ Warnings: swearing

A/N: Hello everyone!! Idk why these keep getting longer and longer but hopefully you guys still like them. Obviously because they are longer they take longer to write but my schedule has loosened so I have more time to write so hopefully the next one will be finished soon <3

Part 1 ~ Part 2

“And here to promote her new movie, the newest star of Hollywood, the amazing, and beautiful, Y/N L/N everybody!!” Jimmy announces with his iconic smile plastered on his face, his hand gesturing towards you as you walk out. Dressed in an extravagant pantsuit and heels, you wave to the audience as you make your way towards your chair. You greet Jimmy as you sit down, taking a moment to take in your first late night show, sat across from Jimmy Fallon, in-front of a large audience, cameras covering you on all angles. Sure you had done press before but this was something else.

Whilst you are undeniably nervous, the excitement of another ‘I made it’ moment overshadows any of your anxiety as you finally face Jimmy as the cheers of the audience diminish. “Welcome Y/N it’s amazing to finally have you on the show. How are you feeling?” he starts with a warm smile, instantly calming your remaining nerves. “Thank you so much for having me. This is definitely a dream of mine so a little nervous.” you explain, earning a nod from Jimmy. “I’m used to being in the audience so it’s still sinking in” you add, gesturing and glancing towards the audience, still unable to grasp the fact that your here.

“Well you have definitely earned it, I mean your incredible.” he commented, earning a chorus of cheers from the audience. A tight lipped smile of appreciation crosses your face as you reply, “Thanks Jimmy thats mean a lot”. “Now… your new movie Y/F/M, am I right in saying its your first lead role in a blockbuster film?” “Yes it is” you reply with a nod. “Now I know they are really strict on what you can say but is there ANYTHING you can tell us.” he asks with genuine curiosity in his eyes.

Despite wanting to go on and on about the movie and reveal every little detail you can, your director says otherwise meaning you can’t say a thing. “I hate to break your heart Jimmy but my lips are glued shut. All I can say is I’m really proud of it” you answer solemnly, giving both Jimmy and the audience a small smile of apology. “It’s annoyingly ironic. Like I have to sell a movie without actually talking about it.” The solemn look on Jimmy’s face is quickly replaced with one of pure elation as he leans back in his chair, letting out his signature laugh, instantly bringing a smile to your face.

He took a minute to settle down before he moved on, “I had a feeling this would happen so I prepared a little game for you” he started with a mischievous look on his face. You matched his energy, playfully glaring at him, “Ok…” you replied with concern earning a chuckle from the audience. “So I had my team go through your twitter and try to find any common topics you talk about” At the mention of your twitter account you could feel your cheeks warm as you realise where he is going with this.

“Oh god…”. Despite having a decent following, you essentially used your twitter as a dumping ground for all of your opinions on films, actors, food, basically everything. Which also meant you tweeted a lot, and I mean a lot, about your celebrity crush. The breathtaking Jenna Ortega. You practically worshipped her. Your initial film reviews of her performances soon turned into you straight up thirsting over her, so much so you had been asked about it before in previous interviews. It was impossible to deny so you would always openly admit your crush, quite passionately if you might add.

“And it would appear there is one VERY prominent subject” he continued, attempting to hold back a chuckle after seeing the mix of concern and acceptance on your face. “Mhm” you hum as you rest your head on your hand, waiting for him to just say it. “Jenna Ortega”. There it was. You closed your eyes attempting to compose yourself as a smile grew on your face just at the mention of her. “So I thought we could take a look at a few of the more recent ones and you could explain them to us all”, he finishes with a look of satisfaction, knowing he had struck gold. “Really trying to expose me aren’t you Jimmy.”, you chuckle as you straighten your posture and face the screen, “Your lucky I’m passionate about this.” you add causing Jimmy and the audience to laugh.

“Ok first one”. A screenshot of a tweet you posted in January 2022, the day that ‘The Fallout’ premiered for streaming, came up on the screen. It read ‘Just watched ‘The Fallout’ for the first time. Jenna Ortega everybody🧎🧎🧎’. You chuckled as you listened to Jimmy read it out to the audience. “I mean it’s pretty self explanatory” you start, reflecting back on that day. “I didn’t get the chance to see it beforehand so I had been waiting for it to come to a streaming service and when it did… OOO Jimmy you have no idea.” you explain whilst the audience bursts out laughing and you just shrug your shoulders. “What can I say. Not only was her performance Oscar worthy but DAMN she looked good doing it.” you fall back in you chair with a massive smile on your face whilst they all cheer and laugh around you.

“Ok ok next one” Jimmy says through his laughter. A new screenshot of a tweet from a week or so later, right after you had seen ‘Scream 5’, appears on the screen reading, “I’m not one for horror, but did I just binge the entirety of the Scream saga to see ‘Scream 5’ with Jenna Ortega? Absolutely. P.S it was so worth it”, Jimmy read it out as you and the audience laughed whilst your hand hid your massive smile. “Lets just say I would do anything to be able to watch her.” you say with a smirk on your face as you try to suppress your giggle. “I actually really don’t like horror that much. I hate jump-scares with a passion. I was also praying the entire time that Jenna’s character didn’t die. That was basically all I cared about.”

“Ok final ones” Jimmy states as he pulls up a tweet from only a few weeks ago from after you binged ‘Wednesday’ is one sitting. “Guys someone explain to me how Jenna played a literal psycho but was still incredibly attractive AND girlfriend material.” Jimmy read as he also pulled up another one from a few days ago, ”These bts photos from Wednesday… Someone take them away from me I need this girl as my girlfriend ASAP” you chuckle as he finishes reading them out. “I mean look I think we can all relate to a show being that much more enjoyable because an actor you love is it in right?” you question, looking at the audience who respond with nods and cheers “Right so when I saw that Jenna was playing Wednesday I legitimately counted down the days until it aired and I watched the entire show in one sitting” you finish with a laugh. “That first tweet was right after I finished it and the second one… I mean guys have you seen those photos how could I not be in love”

Meanwhile…

The Tonight Show was a show that Jenna frequently watched. She had been checking Instagram to see who would be appearing on the show when she stumbled across you. She noticed someone who she instantly found attractive, and their name sounded familiar although she wasn’t sure where from. ‘Y/N L/N…. where do I know you from’ she thought as she googled your name in an attempt to connect the dots. Browsing through your movies and tv shows, nothing seemed to trigger any realisation despite having seen some of them. ‘Weird’

Jenna set her phone aside, sat down on the couch, and took out her TV remote, turning it on and switching the station to start the show. Turning it on just as Jimmy announces you, she watches you walk out and her eyes widen slightly as her cheeks warm ever so slightly. You were gorgeous. She sat there speechless as she watched you smile and wave to the crowd, and she couldn’t help but smile with you as you sat in your chair.

If she was being completely honest with herself, she was entirely distracted by your beauty and hadn’t been listening to a majority of what was said, that was until she noticed you glaring at Jimmy. Snapping out of her trance, she listens to Jimmy explain the ‘game’ he wanted to play with you, something about looking through your twitter. ‘Wait have I seen her on twitter?’ Jenna briefly thought as he continued explaining. Her eyes shot open as she unexpectedly heard her name. ‘Wait what’, her ears immediately perking up, her attention now entirely on Jimmy.

As soon as the first tweet came on screen, Jenna’s mouth dropped open as she was suddenly hit with the realisation of where she had seen you before. She wasn’t one to frequent twitter, but whenever she did she would always notice a large amount of tags and tweets relating to you. The ones she had seen were just her being tagged in the comments of your tweets but she thought nothing of it and just presumed it was the fans messing around. She was obviously mistaken.

As you continued talking about your tweets and your love for her so openly on live tv, her cheeks burned as she sat there on her couch in pure disbelief. “How could I not be in love” is what you had said. That was all she needed to hear before she decided to binge almost all of your previous interviews, and to her surprise, and delight, you mentioned her in almost every one.

‘Holy shit’ she whispered as you wrapped up talking with Jimmy, saying your goodbyes and promoting your movie one last time. As she watched you stand she thought ‘fuck it’ as she reached for her phone, immediately opening instagram and going to her DMs.

Back at the studio…

You had just left the stage and were taking a moment to relax and think about how everything had gone. ‘I really just said that on live TV’ you thought to yourself as you chuckled and headed back to your dressing room to get changed and head home. The first thing you did was change out of your outfit because, despite how beautiful it makes you feel, your one and only real love—aside from Jenna—is an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. Once you had changed you grabbed your phone off the table and took a glance at your notifications, the number of which multiplied significantly since before the show. ‘Oh wow ok’ you mumbled as you scrolled through them seeing if there were any of significance.

You were about to put your phone down before a DM notification caught your eye, your breath hitching as you read the name. ‘Holy shit no way’. It was from fucking Jenna Ortega. ‘What the actual fuck… oh my god ok’. Deciding to wait until you got home to answer it, so you don’t seem too unbearably desperate, you grabbed your things and walked briskly to your car. As you drive along the quiet streets late at night, your mind is racing as all you can think about is her. ‘Oh my god does that mean she watched the interview?’ ‘I can’t believe she actually knows who I am’ ‘How am I going to respond to this oh god’.

When you finally arrived at your apartment, you hurriedly got out of the car and made it to your floor before you almost crashed through the door with excitement. Not bothering to do anything else, you instantly collapse onto your couch and open you instagram, saying ‘Fuck it’ and opening the DM. “Hey cutie” it started, instantly making you blush. “I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to reach out to you. I would love to get to know you better so I was wondering whether you wanted to maybe get dinner with me sometime this week?? Absolutely no pressure but I would love to meet you in person :)” You sat there speechless for a moment. Jenna Ortega, your celebrity crush, wants to go out with you?!? ‘This is too good to be true’ you thought as your fingers hovered over the keyboard. You eventually decided to just go for it, “Are you asking me out on a date?? ;)” you typed quickly and sent before you could start overthinking it.

You were shocked when it was read in just a few seconds, and you waited eagerly for her reply “How could I not ask such a beautiful girl on a date <3”. Here you were, on what you thought would be a regular day of press, instead being asked to go on a date by your celebrity crush. This was an ‘I made it’ moment on a completely different scale.

Part 2

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega request #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega imagine #wednesday #wednesday netflix #the fallout #scream 5 #wednesday addams x fem reader #wednesday addams x reader #simp4wom3n

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im-yn-suckers · 10 months

Text

ponyo

i hate that the pictures dont match color-wise, but fuck it

pairing-bf niki x gf reader

warnings-kissing, cuddling, reader is a little whiny and pouty. eating, kinda sleeping, not proofread, lmk what i missed as usual

"but i wanna watch ponyo!" "so? i wanna watch spirited away!"

you wanted to watch ponyo because you wanted to see how they made the ramen. and also because it was a cute movie. niki wanted to watch spirited away. who knows why, he just wanted to.

truth is, he didnt care what movie you watched, as long as it was Studio Ghibli. he just wanted to see you all whiny and pouty. he thought it was cute. no, he thought you were cute when you were angry.

"fine! how about we do rock paper scissors and whoever wins, chooses?" "fine, but the loser doesn't whine.'' ''ROCK, PAPER, SCISSORS, SHOOT!"

your fist was in rock formation, his was in paper. "WHAT?!" he just stood there laughing as a pout came across your face.

"not fair, i wanted to see how they made the ramen so we could make it" good excuse, y/n. "fine, we can do another round." he said in fake annoyance.

''ROCK, PAPER, SCISSORS, SHOOT!'' tie. "ROCK, PAPER, SCISSORS, SHOOT!" you both pulled paper in the previous round. niki knew you were most likely to pull scissors next. so what did he do? he pulled out paper. (T-T)

''YAYY!" he partially wanted to see you try to replicate the ramen in ponyo. he also didnt like seeing you sad, even if you were being dramatic.

he watched in awe, and when i saw 'in awe' i mean in awe, as you pulled up the movie and ran to get snacks.

he sat down and grabbed a blanket big enough for the both of you. you came back with some chips and a soft drink.

you sat down next to him, opening the bag of chips. niki put his arm around your shoulder, pulled your head near his face, and pecked you scalp. he opened the can of your shared drink and took a sip.

"I-D-I-O-T! B-U-G O-F-F!" "L-I-S-A, I L-O-V-E Y-O-U" " I-D-I-O-T! I-D-I-O-T! I-D-I-O-T! I-D-I-O-T! I-D-I-O-T! I-D-I-O-T! I-D-I-O-T! B-U-G O-F-F! B-U-G O-F-F! B-U-G O-F-F! B-U-G O-F-F" (yes, i did that. Lisa is an ICONIC character in ponyo. fight me)

"why doesnt Lisa understand that Koichi is working and he just cant come home. like yeah, he said he was going to be there but hes your husband. he works at sea! give him a break!" while you complain about Lisa getting mad at Koichi for not being home, niki takes another sip of your drink and licks his lips.

"she's just salty that her husband isn't home all the time" niki smiles and responds to your whines can complaints. "see, baby? be happy that im not salty about you doing whatever." "we're always together!" and it's true. you guys are always together. "i dont care." "whatever. i still think Lisa just wants Koichi to be with her 24/7"

the movie went on and it came to the ramen part. (istg, if yall dont know what im talking about)

"baby!!!! can we make the ramen once the movie's done?? please??" "do we have everything?" "i dont know. i dont think we have green onion" "once the movie's over, we can walk to the store and buy it, if you want" "yesyyesyesyesyes!!!"

the movie ended and you both got up to leave. you walked in, greeted the cashier and headed to get onion. "baby, do we have ham?" "um, i dont know. i'll ask the guys." "no, its okay, we'll just buy some"

you finished shopping and walked home. it wasnt that far of a walk but your legs hurt.

after getting home and making the ramen, you put on spirited away. niki smiled at your action and pressed a kiss to your forehead. you placed the bowls on the coffee table in the living room almost right away and sat next to niki on the floor. he looked at you and hugged you.

the little moments like these made you realize that, niki is your happiness. the coffe table was far away enough for you to climb into his lap, at least until the food was ready.

"are you tired baby?" niki chuckled at you dozing off on his shoulder. "a little, but im really hungry"

"well, the foods ready so we can eat and then we can go to sleep." you got.off of him slowly and ate your food. after, you and niki went to ash up and go to sleep. after all that, you layed down with your back facing niki, only to be pulled into his embrace with his annoyingly strong arms.

he nuzzled his nose into ypur hair and slowly fell asleep.

the end

yalllllll, im back. ive been gone for so long 😭 but i might not be so active tmw bc i need bloodwork done 😓 the doctors didnt ecen tell me why tho. soooooo, whats new?

(i have writers block gimme ideas)

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heeracha · 1 year

Text

## end of the line. — p. jongseong

synopsis: thinking it was a hotline for people who just need someone to talk to, jay calls. but why did a clueless student answer? with jay’s phone call has a time limit, you, the clueless student, insists on staying with him until the end of the line.

pairing: jay x f!reader

content/genre: college au (wow shocking), slowburn, fluff, angst and crack, smau.

warning(s): swearing, mental health deteriorating, lonely thoughts, i'll put it on every chap if there's anything you need to look out for.

note: hahaha im horrible, yes, delaying wob again, im so sorry. i just,,,,, idk lets say this is self-indulgent bcs fuCK its obvious im not doing too well for the past months lmAO AHHSDH,,, anyway,, yep. hope u enjoy whatever the fuck this is T_T. TAGLIST CLOSED. remember my bullshit last night about this not being as angsty as ymtm? yeah i take it back, i have the alt ending written already. HA.

tags: r.asks: eotl, eotl updates, eotl thoughts, eotl spoilers

profiles. / profiles 2.0

ep 1. — the one with the moving in (pilot).

ep 2. — the one with mommy looking for a daddy.

ep 3. — the one with too much workloads.

ep 4. — the one with donald duck.

ep 5. — the one with the hotline.

ep 6. — the one with the ppg leader, blooming.

ep 7. — the one with the style note.

ep 8. — the one with y/n's 15 minute-bf.

ep 9. — the one with reunited by peaches & herb.

ep 10. — the one with sulley and boo.

ep 11. — the one with the ghosting.

ep 12. — the one with the ghosting 2.0.

ep 13. — the one with three am bbq.

ep 14. — the one with bubs coming back.

ep 15. — the one with the cat naming.

ep 16. — the one with the lukewarm coffee.

ep 17. — the one with jay cooking his sadness away.

ep 18. — the one with the giggly simp in sunoo's dorm.

ep 19. — the one with the cream puffs request.

ep 20. — the one with jay's sweater.

ep 21. — the one after the bake sale.

ep 22. — the one with the three boxes.

ep 23. — the one where jay (almost) won.

ep 24. — the one with the backup plan.

ep 25. — the one with the rude girl and the guy with no manners.

ep 26. — the one with the sad face.

ep 27. — the one with the "you too" replies.

ep 28. — the one with the "i fell first, they never did" trope.

ep 29. — the one with jay can't because he's busy.

ep 30. — the one with sunoo blocking jay in his priv.

ep 31. — the one with sunoo leaving the group.

ep 32. — the one with jake throwing a shoe at jay.

ep 33. — the one with bubs' messages.

ep 34. — the one with bubs and honey catching up.

ep 35. — the one with jay trying to talk to y/n.

ep 36. — the one with jay's way of confessing.

ep 37. — the one with jay being so close (for the millionth time).

ep 38. — the one where honey called bubs by her real name.

ep 39. — the one with ur mom vibes.

ep 40. — the one with y/n crying for the hundredth time.

ep 41. — the one where minho gets a headache.

ep 42. — the one with sunoo becoming a caregiver.

ep 43. – the one with the letter.

ep 44. — the one with sunghoon being a drama queen.

ep 45. — the one with the matching icons.

ep 46. — the one during y/n's sad hours.

ep 47. — the one where jay doesn't care about y/n.

ep 48. — the one where jeongin spoils y/n.

ep 49. — the one where they decide they either fix it or have closure.

ep 50. — the one where everything's okay.

ep 51. — the one where minho will airfry jay and y/n.

ep 52. — the one with the ending, but not the end of the line.

alternative ending. — the one with y/n staying with jay even after the line ended.

#pls work or i will cry #Hiraya-M #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen reactions #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen socmed au #enhypen smau #enhypen soft hours #jay imagines #jay reactions #jay fluff #jay scenarios #jay x reader #jay smau #jay social media au #jongseong imagines

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chimielie · 26 days

Text

i swear that i will hate you 'till forever

summary: Yaku x F!Reader. sometimes divorce is what you really need to strengthen a marriage

word count: 1.2k

cw: angst, alcohol, pr marriage gone extremely wrong, yaku is older by six years, reader is a socialite with no life skills or healthy coping mechanisms, yaku also has no healthy coping mechanisms, no one in this story is doing well, The Judgment of God Himself, also blasphemy

a/n: heeey long time no see. i actually genuinely don't know when i wrote this, i'm just emptying my drafts of all the half-written fics i have locked in jail. i do still like this concept a lot so shoot me an ask if you want to know more about what i had planned for the full thing :)

Morisuke hates weddings.

He stares up at God, who is trapped in a little circle in a bigger circle, surrounded by gorgeous, centuries-old paintings of angels and saints and little red devils. Everything is gold, the flickering light of hanging chandeliers shining down to gild a rapt audience, even as the real people seem to pale in comparison to their artistically rendered counterparts. Standing here, surrounded by ornate displays of divinity, Morisuke has never felt so wealthy in spirit and physicality. He wasn’t raised in this religion, nor was he ever baptized into it as an adult, but he doesn’t find a seed of objection in himself he’d though he would. The icon he thinks is God looks both mournful and benevolent. All the shining things make Morisuke feel as though he’s looking into a mirror.

The people rustle, whispering among themselves. A stray string instrument sounds, alone and twanging into a silence far greater than itself, and Morisuke almost misses it when the orchestra starts up moments later. He has a headache, the kind that gets worse because he’s so irritated that he has one at all.

He looks down and away from God, straight into the blinding flash of a camera. His only reaction is a slight narrowing of the eyes, the closest he’s come to flinching in years. When the spots clear from his vision, you’re there, an angel from the fresco come to life, a goddess in the church.

Morisuke folds his hands. It feels only right to pray, the way he’s seen it on television, the way some of his teammates do before matches. You stare at him as you walk down the aisle, light playing over your dress in shining bursts that make his head throb harder. He can’t find any bridal tears in your eyes.

He shifts in his dress shoes, fights not to run his hands through his carefully-styled hair. The air-conditioning is too strong, meant to keep a thousand pressed-together people from overheating, or perhaps it’s the winter air leaking in through the great doors. You reach the stairs to the altar, wobbling a little on your first step up, though the movement is so minuscule anyone but him wouldn’t have noticed. Without thinking, Morisuke reaches a hand out to steady you. Your fingers press hard into the flesh of his palm, gripping him bruisingly tight. He can barely pull his hand away fast enough. The music stops, and Morisuke takes in a deep breath, while your chest doesn’t move to inhale or exhale. This is the last moment before you are knotted together irrevocably for life. A groom who hates weddings for a bride who doesn’t cry.

one year, eight months later

If you tilt your head up and almost close your eyes so that you’re looking through your lashes, you can pretend that you’re floating among the stars. You do so, walking backwards, tipping champagne down your throat as you go, trying to envision yourself as a constellation. You’re pretty sure you are one—Morisuke’s gift to you on your birthday, the first one after you’d married. The tabloids had eaten it up. You, watching him board a plane through the social media stories of your so-called friends, hadn’t felt quite as romanced as your picture in the news claimed.

You had forgotten about the constellation. Perhaps it had stuck in your subconscious, though; it was awfully romantic. Perhaps that’s why you had chosen the planetarium as a venue for tonight, though in the light of day it had been the midnight blue velvet and shadowy, domed ceilings that had cinched it for you. But you throw a lot of parties, and you don’t need any more sentiment in your life than what you’re currently suffocating under. You’ll come back on your own, you decide, finishing off your glass and plucking another from the nearest hand to you. You like being lost amongst your guests, freewheeling in space even without oxygen to breathe.

You stumble as you continue your backwards, meandering path through the party. You kick off your shoes, lab-grown crystals chipping off as they bounce. You don’t notice. You’ll buy more. You could buy the whole stupid world, with your husband’s money that he throws at you so he doesn’t have to come home and face you. Your husband who leaves you alone to do whatever you please. Alone, dancing among the stars.

Morisuke was twenty-eight when he proposed to you; you had just turned twenty-two when you said yes. You had been officially seeing each other for three months and acquaintances for nearly a year prior.

The story of your first meeting the interviewers knew was one you and your husband had told many times. A mutual friend had introduced you at a high-profile event and said, blatantly, that the two of you should “make babies.” Morisuke was smooth; you were flirtatious. The story played out like a romantic comedy, ending in a fairytale wedding.

You and he had kept the real story for yourselves, to take out and admire in times of trouble, to tuck away in your pocket like a note between secret lovers.

You were running through a rose-garden maze, eyes over your shoulder, hands fisted in your skirts. He had been walking a perpendicular path to yours (looking for someone else, another lover, you’d later learn) when you had tripped right over him, tumbling head over heels through the flora and into a new sector. Your breath knocked out of you, it was all you could do to stare up at the sky and try to laugh.

“Miss?” He’d called, ducking through the opening, pushing stray rose canes away. “Miss! Are you alright?”

He sounded so formal. You accepted his hand up, but only pulled yourself into a sitting position, trying desperately to catch your breath. He was so handsome, it was making things much harder. Inconsiderate of him, you thought

“I’m fine,” you managed, eventually. “Are you?”

“No more bruised than usual,” he’d returned, teasing. You cocked a brow. “I’m an athlete. I dive face-first onto hardwood floors all day."

For reasons you couldn’t recognize, you’d taken his hand, pushing up the sleeve of his shirt. His forearm toward the elbow had a nasty bruise, as he had said. You ran a careful finger over the discoloration, and he hissed.

“How was my form?”

“Awful,” he said frankly. “But—“ He’d seemed to get lost there, watching the way the sunlight filtered through the clouds and played across your features. With all the raw honesty of someone saying something they hadn’t even known they were thinking, he opened his mouth and said: “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

On a slight breeze, the petals you’d knocked off drifted around the two of you, catching on his shirt, in your hair. They pooled between you, and when you ducked your head down they were all you could see.

You fell in love during that first meeting.

He never fell in love with you at all.

#yaku x reader #yaku morisuke x reader #yaku angst #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #haikyuu!! x reader angst

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shawnxstyles · 1 year

Text

green and gold

DATE: MARCH 29, 2023

summary: tom invites you to the brothers trust charity event that you didn’t really want to go to. you made up countless excuses, trying to run away from him like you usually do, but were convinced anyway. during the event, tom finally confronts you about always running away when he’s close. years of pent-up feelings are unraveled along with some clothes to make up for all the time you lost.

request: yess

song: dress- taylor swift

words: 7.7k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, slight masturbation, some nipple play], exhibitism, small praise kink, unprotected sex [coming inside], dirty talk), pining, lots of fluff, and some language.

note: i used this image because it was one of the only ones i could find of him at the event where he wasn’t with other people lol. this is hardly edited

best friends to lovers :) famous!tom x female!reader

–

You really didn’t want to go tonight. You had so many reasons, or excuses is what Tom said, why you didn’t want to go to a high-end charity event. But your best friend put on his puppy dog eyes and played the “I need you by my side tonight” card. It was truly an unfair move.

The “reasons” you gave Tom were all in-the-moment excuses. Like “I have to clean my entire apartment and it’s going to take a week” or “I’m not going to feel good for the next week”. Yeah…your excuses got worse every time he asked.

Tom told you a week in advance and it went like this; he asked if you wanted to go, you said no for three days straight, and then eventually caved because of those stupid puppy dog eyes. That’s how most of Tom’s requests for your presence went. At first, you loved the idea of all the fancy clothes and luxurious events, but after about two nights out, you were already sick of it. You respected that Tom did that and more for a living.

Like every other event he convinced you to go to, you shared a suite in some grand hotel that still made your jaw drop from its lavishness. He made sure his team arranged an outfit for you each time, every dress more opulent than the last. The dresses he got you always fit you so perfectly, you were in disbelief when you looked in the mirror at the final results.

Tonight was no different. Well, it was a bit different. As you stood in front of the full length mirror, you stared at your figure way longer than you usually would have. Tom ordered you a long, green dress with velvet fabric that comforted your skin. It was snug, flawlessly fitting, and had a huge slit that showed your entire leg. You made sure to shave everything and wear your tiniest pair of underwear, so nothing could be seen.

You weren’t a celebrity like Tom. Yeah, sometimes you went to events with him, but only for support. You were seen on the media with him a lot, and after at least a year of fans either “shipping” you two or hating you, they finally understood the idea that a man and a woman can be friends.

No matter how much you hated it, that’s all you two were. That’s all it was ever going to be.

You and Tom have been friends since you were kids. You only ever saw him as a friend, and he, the same. But as puberty hit and hormones developed, the line of friendship began to blur for you. When he had a few girlfriends (all for short periods of time), it became clear to you that he had no interest in you outside of a friendship.

His name got huge after he landed the iconic role of playing Spider-man for the Marvel Cinematic Universe. But your relationship together never faded, along with the confusing feelings you learned to label as a crush. Your “crush” eventually turned into a “like”, and then…well, you would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t in love with the man.

And as you smoothed your hands over the velvet dress, your heart swelled at the idea of it all. A girl in love with her best friend.

You took a deep breath and pulled your conscience away from your reflection. You hastingly put in the dangly, gold earrings with matching green gems that Tom also ordered for you. Sparkling gold heels rested by the bed, waiting for your feet to become ridiculously uncomfortable. You strapped them on and grabbed your black clutch on the bed. You peered one last time at your shared hotel room before walking out and to the elevators.

Outside, a car was ready to escort you to the event. As you rode, you made light conversation with Tom’s driver, Eddy, and asked about his family and how his night was. While entering, sitting, and exiting the car, you repeated numerous thank you’s just like you did every time he escorted you. A few events ago, you overheard him say you were something along the lines of “kind-hearted” and “a keeper”, which made you smile to yourself. But you swear Tom replied saying “that’s the goal”.

Maybe it was all in your head, but it never left you. Even if it was, you wanted to hold onto it–the sliver of possibility that there might be something between you and Tom.

You trailed up the long, creme cemented stairs and opened the double glass doors. The lobby was roomy and extremely tall for no good reason besides the glistening chandelier that hung from the roof. The floor was covered in red velvet carpet with a white and gold marble outline. Heels padding the carpet, you checked in easily and were directed to the ballroom area. You followed and strutted into the decked out event.

Similar to the lobby, red velvet and marble decorated the floor and walls. The foundation of the walls were dark wood, which matched pleasantly with the other colors. Accents of gold were everywhere, including the white-clothed tables; candle holders, golden tassels, and picture frames. Voices buzzed all around you, but you hardly acknowledged anyone before taking in the beauty of the room. This was definitely one of the fanciest events you’ve ever been to.

After a welcoming look, you scanned the crowded tables for a familiar face. Or, familiar faces. Since this was The Brothers Trust charity event, all of the Holland brothers were present. That being said, it was also one of your first questions you had asked Tom when he asked for you to go. Why would you need to go if he had the support of all his brothers? You would just be there.

But that’s all he wanted. He just wanted you there. At his events, by his side; in his house, in his bed, in his arms–he always just wanted you there.

You got easily distracted by the outfits and people that it took you a minute to find him. But when your eyes spotted his face, your heart skipped a beat so frequent and fast that it became comfortable. Tom stood in a criminally charming tux by a table of middle-aged people, conversing with a wide smile plastered on his tan face. You watched as he laughed whole-heartedly when Harry made a joke, clutching onto his arm for support.

Without noticing, you had swallowed all your saliva and weren’t breathing correctly. Once your brain and body wanted to function, you used your legs to wander his way.

Tom was busy talking to one of his associates at another table when you caught his eye from across the room. The words that left the older man’s mouth turned into a muffled hum along with all the other voices in the room as he gazed at you. He’s seen you in a numerous amount of dresses, all beautiful and glamorous in their own way. But the dress you’re sporting tonight caused his breath to hitch in his throat and heart stop–correction, it made everything stop. Everyone around you blurred as he absorbed the image of you strutting towards him in that dangerous green and gold.

Dangerous because he might not be able to hold himself back tonight.

“Uh, Tom?” The associate questioned, causing Tom to shake his head and peer down at the man. Before the man could continue about whatever he was talking about, Tom politely, but quickly excused himself with a pat on his shoulder and met with you in the midst of the room.

He inhaled deeply to appear unaffected, like you didn’t just ruin his entire night–entire life–by taking his breath away and looking drop-dead gorgeous. He wouldn’t be too surprised if you killed him.

“This place is ethereal,” You said, head spinning and arms waving. “I cannot believe you made me come to this.”

“Why? You don’t like it?”

“Tom, I just said it was beautiful. Of course I like it. It’s just…a lot,” Your arms cross and you tuck your clutch under your armpit. “I don’t think this scene works for me.”

“Me either. You stick out like a sore thumb,” He teases with an exaggerated sigh. You dramatically gasp.

“What is that supposed to mean?!” You whisper-shout, leaning closer to him. He feels your breath fan his cheek and a slight blush creeps up his neck at the proximity. He doesn’t want to look down because he knows that he would get a glimpse of your breasts perched up by your crossed arms. However, his eyes betray him as his glances quickly at the pair causing a subtle twitch in his cock.

No more looking, Tom, he tells himself.

“You’re way prettier than all of these people. You’re killin’ all of their egos and raising all of their jealousies. If everyone hates me, I’m blamin’ you and that goddamn dress,” Tom expresses with gritted teeth, eyes wandering anywhere but yours. A wave of heat rushes up your neck and your eyes have a staring contest with the carpet.

When you finally have the courage to look back up, his eyes are piercing into yours causing your skin to feel flushed all over. The glare of his brown eyes kindles a small fire in the pits of your stomach, dull but throbbing. The feeling travels lower until there’s a slight drip in your thong.

“I’m glad I chose a good one,” He adds, eyes drifting to scan your entire frame once again with his hands behind his back. Your breasts raise up and down with the deep breaths you take, still unable to comprehend his previous words. You shake your head.

“You chose it?” You always thought it was some stylist, or literally anyone else but Tom. You thought it was just his money that he used to rent it. “Do you always choose my dresses?”

He nods matter-of-factly. “Of course. I’d like to think I know what you like.”

He wasn’t wrong. Every dress that he chose looked like it was made exclusively for you and only you. Whether it was flowy or tight, red or white, you always managed to leave the hotel room more confident than you had when you entered. Now that you think about it, you don’t remember ever telling Tom your sizing. It must have been something he learned along the way because like you said, every dress fit perfectly like it was tailored for you.

Before you could respond, a lady tapped on his shoulder and introduced herself. Tom didn’t hesitate to take a step back and introduce both himself and you. You greeted the lady kindly as you three talked about the goodness of the event. After a few minutes, the auction was set to begin and Tom had to excuse himself.

Before he went on stage, he showed you your seat, which was right in the front with Harry, Sam, and Paddy. You didn’t sit before giving them each a heartwarming hug, even though you saw them all yesterday. Even though you were in a glamorous ballroom you weren’t used to, you felt comforted by the boys you were close enough with to call the brothers you never had.

Sometimes, you wished you saw Tom that way. But when you compared the feelings in your heart and your head, you knew they could never be the same.

Finally, the auction started. Tom’s name glowed in dotted lights on the striped wall behind him. You turned your whole body to face Tom as he introduced the entire event before it got kick-started. Many items were being auctioned; paintings, autographed guitars, and other things that were so far out of your price range that you were deaf to all numbers over the thousands.

In between each item were fun little trivia games to keep the people awake and alert. It was an entertaining way to support a charity, and you felt a sense of pride because you knew it had been Tom’s idea. One of the trivia questions had been to guess how many na’s there were in “Hey Jude” by The Beatles. Some people got insanely close, but no one got it on the money.

After all the auctioning and bidding was over, you felt immensely poor, but felt instantly better when Tom came to sit next to you. The room chatted away, wining and dining while Tom’s brothers did the same. Unlike them, Tom turned to you.

“How are you?” His voice was raspy, probably from talking for hours. That subtle fire in your stomach tingles at his voice. You turn your body to face him.

“I’m good. You did really well up there, by the way,” You said, lifting your nearly empty wine glass to your lips. There’s a blurring stain from your shiny lip gloss on the rim.

“Thanks, love,” The graveliness of his throat doesn’t fade, even after he takes a few sips of water. You watch as his fingers wrap around the cup, and it’s embarrassing that you’re obsessed with his simplistic movements. You subconsciously lick your lips, unable to rid the dirty thoughts piling in your head.

Tux. Pretty. Hot. Raspy voice. Thick fingers.

Tom’s lips started moving, but you weren’t paying enough attention, too caught up in your head to focus on the living dream in front of you.

“What?” You asked, subtly leaning toward him. He leaned closer, lying a hand on your bare thigh through your slit. You quietly gasp because his hand is chilly from the water, but also because it was so close to where you ached. Your skin burned nearly causing you to break out in a sweat, contradicting his icy palm.

“Are you okay?” His other hand gently patted against your forehead and caressed your hot cheek with his thumb. “You’re warm.”

No shit. Does he see what he’s doing?

You couldn’t formulate a response when his hand traveled down to rest on the curve of your shoulder and neck. His hand on your mid-thigh rubbed reassuring circles as your heart thumped a million miles an hour.

“I’m fine,” You vaguely answered in a squeak, subtly squeezing your thighs when his touch got too much. His eyes glance briskly at your tightened thighs and anxious hands in your lap, a knowing eyebrow raising slightly. Tom didn’t mean to put his hand on your thigh, but now that it was there, he didn’t want to remove it. When he saw you squirm for a sliver of a second, he engaged in the idea that you might be turned on.

The thought made his cock twitch needily in his pants.

You didn’t notice, too concentrated on the feeling of his hands on you.

You wanted him to slide his hand up higher, to break that boundary that you’ve waited years to cross. But of course, when your chances were closer than ever, you had to be at some stupid, very public event. And doing anything explicit would be stupid.

“Are you sure? You’re burning up, love,” Tom’s hand squeezes the back of your heated neck causing you to inhale sharply. “And you’re so tense. What’s up, Y/N?”

You clenched your teeth. You began to run through every excuse in your mind, just like you had when Tom first asked you to this event. But he wasn’t texting you or calling you this time. He was sitting right in front of you with his hands on your neck and thigh. You nearly moaned out from just him rubbing your skin, his touch delicate with his rough skin. With every excuse you thought of, you couldn’t think of one that made sense enough for Tom to want to leave you alone for the rest of the night so you could collect yourself.

“I’m just really hot,” You complained in a low voice. Tom’s eyebrows raised, pursing and tightening his lips. To Tom, your voice sounded whiny and lustful. His dick stirred, slightly hardening at the growing conclusion that you’re highly aroused. Like him.

“What can I do, love?” He noticed the smallest quiver of your lip at the name, almost as if you were holding something in. He’s called you love for ages, so maybe it was something else. Or someone else…

What if it wasn’t even him? If it wasn’t him then what had you so worked up?

“Um…can we go outside? Need some air,” Your eyes traveled down to his pink lips, looking so soft and kissable. You were barely a foot away from him before he nodded and stood up. You didn’t know you were holding your breath until a wavering sigh left your mouth. Tom extends his hand and you follow him to what you assume is outside.

He leads you out a back door after giving a curt nod to a security guard. The chilly February night breeze brushes over your skin, finally cooling you down as Tom releases your hand. The exit led to an alleyway, a brick wall that grew darker one way. You strained your eyes on each brick and attempted to concentrate on your breathing. But Tom’s looming presence made it impossible because that fire in the pit of your stomach never dulled.

“Feelin’ better?” He broke the silence and it had you swinging your head to face him. You shakingly nodded your head with a quick hum.

You couldn’t take it. You couldn’t stand so close to him while you were feeling this way.

“I have to go,” You exhaled briskly before beginning to walk away. Tom told you to wait, but you didn’t.

You didn’t get more than a few steps before Tom caught your hand and spun you around magically. Your shoulders collided with the surface as he stood in front of you, caging you to the wall. Your breathing faltered as your heart bounced crazily against your ribs, skin beginning to burn up again. He faced the floor before finally meeting your wide eyes. He gazed at you as if he was searching for something and you wanted to give it to him, whatever it was, so he would stop looking at you intensely.

“Why do you always do that?” His voice was a whisper, low and still a tad raspy.

“What?” You scanned his features, allured by his lips only inches away from yours. He’s never been so close and it was dangerous. So, so dangerous. The only barrier in between you was that line of friendship that thinned with every passing second.

“Always run away. Every time…”

Your heart raced faster than it ever has before. It thumped out of your chest like a lovestruck cartoon character as he had you hanging on every single word.

He closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to collect his thoughts. “Every time I get close. Every time I want to be closer, you make up some excuse so you don’t have to be near me. Am I that horrible, Y/N? Is the possibility of this that horrible?”

Possibility? Possibility of what? Oh, please be what you’re thinking.

“No, God, of course not. You’re perfect. You’re too perfect that I get…overwhelmed when I’m near you. I can’t do this,” You shake your head and try to duck away under his arms. You’re completely disarmed when one of his hands drops to pin your hip down. Your wiggling comes to a halt.

“There you go again. Just stay, Y/N,” He leans toward you, mouth hovering near your ear. Your senses dial up to a hundred when you feel his breath tickle your skin. “You’re still warm, Y/N.”

You bite your lip, holding in a whimper that was threatening to leave your mouth. Your hips subtly moved against his hand that stationed you to the wall, but you weren’t going anywhere.

A thick thigh parts your legs, pinning you to the wall more securely. You gasp as his hand that was on your hip travels up and brushes over the warm skin of your cheek. You search for the words in your brain.

Maybe instead of avoiding it, just go with it.

Tom is struggling. Being this close to you has his cock rock hard under his trousers. He’s sure you could feel him against your bare leg, which was slightly spread for his own leg. His chest was restricting and blocking his air flow because he couldn’t breathe correctly. Your glossy lips were plush and soft, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss you until you shared oxygen.

You felt what you assumed was his large boner on your thigh. You mewled so delicately you weren’t sure if he heard it, but he did.

You felt years of friendship being slowly torn apart with every second he didn’t say something. You were about to push him off of you and sprint towards your hotel, which was miles and miles away, so you could die of embarrassment. Or maybe you would die because of your lack of cardio.

When you looked away from him, his hand adjusted your chin so you were staring directly at him. A soft kind of smile adorned his lips, but no words were spoken quite yet. You hated the sliver of hope that leaked from your heart. His thumb rubbed against your bottom lip and pulled it down, smearing your lip gloss.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to kiss these lips?” Throat husky, he pushed himself impossibly closer to you, lips barely an inch away now. His nose bumped yours and you felt the breath evaporate from your lungs. “Sixteen years.”

“Sixteen years…” You repeated breathily. If you were to do the math, which your brain was very incapable of doing right now, that would be your entire friendship. Since you were only ten years old, Tom has been waiting to kiss you.

Tom’s been waiting to kiss you for sixteen years? That must mean…

“Promise you won’t run away,” Tom said, on the edge of pleading and demanding. A slow nod was all you did, and then Tom’s thumb slid down to your chin and tilted your head.

He pressed his lips to yours gently, slowly molding you both together. The motions are so agile, but you can feel everything this way. The tip of his tongue nudges yours, eliciting sparks of fire with every push of your lips. Your polished nails trail up and lightly scrape the soft hair on the nape of his neck. A swirl of passion ignites in your stomach, encouraging and begging for more. Eagerly, your movements got faster, rocking your heads together as you took in as much of one another as you could.

His body pins desperately into yours, smushing you against the rough wall. He removes his hand from your chin and slams it on the wall beside your head. His free hand lifts one of your legs, so he can slot himself in between you. A needy whimper escapes you as his clothed bulge presses against your damp thong. You clench around nothing but the aching and throbbing of your pussy.

“T-Tom, the dress–” You pant.

“I’ll buy you another one,” He slams his lips back on yours to shut you up, which of course, it works. But not for long before another excuse is popping up in your head.

“What if someone walks out here–”

“I’ll kill them,” He goes to kiss you again.

“Tom!” You dramatically shout with a giggle as your hand rests on his chest while the other is on his neck.

“Okay, I won’t actually kill them. Unless you want me to…” He drifts off, getting lost in your smile and your sparkling eyes.

At that moment, it hit him. He had you. He finally had you. Like he’s said, he’s waited sixteen years to have you. He’s been through trial and error with other girls, but they weren’t you. No one could ever be you.

Suddenly, someone bursts through the exit door and has both of your heads turning hastingly. Tom gently releases your leg as he scoffs annoyingly when he realizes it’s just his brother. His hand balls into a fist on the wall as he smiles irritatingly at Harry.

“There you are! Can you save this for later? We have things to sign and people to acknowledge,” Harry says before walking briskly back into the building.

“Yeah, let’s just “save this for later” like I haven’t waited long enough,” Tom mocks his brother with a grumble. You feel Tom sigh into the air. You bring your hand to caress his cheek reassuringly. After the last few minutes, you’ve gotten the courage to be a bit more vulnerable with him, without feeling the urge to run away.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve waited a long time, too,” You curl the corners of your lips into a faint smile as you watch your own thumb smooth over his tan skin. Tom practically melts into your touch, smiling goofily at you. “But we’ve waited this long, what’s a few more hours going to do?”

“Kill me,” Tom mumbles dramatically and you roll your eyes. “I don’t want you to run away.”

Your heart aches at his words. You made a promise to him, and you planned to fulfill that. After that kiss and feeling him in ways that you only imagined, you couldn’t run away now. You needed more of him, all of him. But even if you had all of him, you don’t think you’d be able to leave him again.

“I’ll stay by your side all night. Just like you asked,” You reassured and he nodded. He slowly backs away from the wall, releasing you, and all the heat between you dissipates. But your skin still burned from his touch and your clit still throbbed for him. You quickly adjusted your dress and wiped your hands over the fabric.

“How does the dress look? Fucked up?” You asked, spinning in a half circle. Tom cursed to himself, getting a view of the curve of your ass. That dress really did fit you perfectly, but he wanted nothing more than for it to be off of you.

“Not nearly as bad as I want it to be,” He husked, the sexual innuendo hanging in the air. He quickly swipes his thumb under your lip to fix your smeared gloss before leading you back inside. You blink a few times as he drags you through the door. You weren’t used to him being so blunt, but you loved it. It made you aware that there was something between you and Tom.

You had both surpassed the line of friendship ages ago. You looked back at it like a distant horizon as you entered a new, long-awaited arena; romance.

–

After what you swear was the longest two hours of your life, Tom had talked to every person at least twice with the addition of his goodbyes. Ever since you came back from outside, the tension between you and Tom was undeniable. You stuck to your word and were tied to Tom’s side for the straining hours. His hand was placed on your lower back for most of the night torturing you, and it was no different when he was ushering you out of the front door. Hastily, you both went down the steps and into the car with Eddy.

You tried your best to make normal conversation with Eddy like you usually do, but when Tom placed his large hand on your bare thigh again, it was hard to comprehend anything. Eventually, you entered traffic and Eddy got a phone call. He pressed a button and the wall that separated him from you and Tom was rolled up.

Tom gave you a knowing look as his hand raised higher on your thigh. Your breath hitched as his fingers were merely inches from your drenched heat. You instinctively spread your legs a bit wider, allowing him more access. He leans toward you, purposefully missing your lips and pecking your cheek. He tucks a stray strand of hair around your ear causing shivers to crawl up your spine.

“Are you wet, darling?” His thumb rubs dangerously close to your clothed cunt. Finally, his finger skims over the laced fabric, soaking. You whine when his delicate, teasing touch pets your clit. He chuckles hoarsely. “You’re soaked, baby. Have you been like this all night?”

You nod with closed eyes. “Please, touch me, Tom,” You plead quietly, in fear that Eddy might hear you.

“In the back of the car? Naughty thing,” His fingers press harder into your seeping hole, still covered by your panties. He rubs your hole, thumb petting your clit while your hand slaps over your mouth to keep you quiet. Your chest rises quickly with your racing breaths, your nipples poking at velvet material.

Tom slides your thong to the side, making bare contact with your dripping cunt. He massages your arousal around your folds while his thumb quickens its pace on your throbbing clit. That fire in your lower belly burns deliciously as his movements send you into a frenzy.

“Tom,” You mewled behind your hand suctioned to your face. Tom groans as his middle finger slips into your hole easily. Your hips buck into his touch, back slightly arched.

“Almost there, Mr. Holland,” Eddy informs on the other side of the wall. Your eyes widen as your heart beats quickly in a panic.

What if you get caught? Oh God, you would seriously die of embarrassment.

“Okay,” Tom replies simply, as if he’s unaffected and he isn’t fingering you in the back of a car. Tom’s voice lowers and instantly becomes raspier. “Are you almost there, Y/N?”

You remove your hand from your face, so you can hold onto his shoulder and nod briskly. Your nails dig into his tux jacket as your head slams against the leather seat. Rolling your hips for more, Tom inserts another finger into you and curls them. Your teeth stab into your bottom lip, probably drawing blood, so you don’t scream and alert the whole street.

“I need you to come, love. Right now,” His order was soft and sexy, but demanding and dirty. The thrusts of his fingers only increase in pace as he tries to get you to your orgasm before the car comes to a stop. With another curl of his fingers and a nudge to your clit, your stomach tightened until relief flooded over you.

Noticing this, Tom crashes his lips onto yours to dull your sweet noises. Every moan, scream, and whimper melts into his mouth as his fingers gradually pump into you. Your legs spasm intensely as your release coats his fingers. Tom pulls away from you and takes his fingers out from your sopping cunt, messy with your arousal and cum.

He doesn’t hesitate to raise the substance up to his pink lips, licking it clean off his hand with a devilish smirk on his face. You watch him do so with a widened mouth while you try to catch your breath, panting.

“Did so good, love,” His smirk never fades as the car comes to a stop. Before you know it, Eddy is unlocking and opening your door for you both. You exit first while trying to fix your disheveled appearance, so your post-orgasm look isn’t too suspicious. You mumble a thank you as you hurriedly walk to the front door of the lavish hotel. You stop in your tracks, almost forgetting your clutch in the car. Turning around, you walk back to the car and overhear Eddy and Tom again.

“I’m no fool, Mr. Holland. You told her.”

“I know you’re not, Eddy. And I did. Finally,” Eddy pats him on the shoulder. “And you can call me Tom, you know. We’re friends.”

“I know, I know. Because as your friend and driver, I know when to roll up the partition.”

As a wave of heat rushes up your neck and cascades onto your face, you realize that the clutch wasn’t that important and someone would return it. You resume your fast-paced walk into the hotel with an uncontrollable smile on your face.

A girl in love with her best friend.

–

Since you didn’t have your clutch, you were standing in front of your hotel room waiting for Tom. He wasn’t long after you, finally walking up to you with a smug smirk on his face. And your clutch in his hands. You snatch it from him.

“Finally, I can take these heels off,” You moan, slipping them off as he scans the card and unlocks the room. You place them on the floor near the door and head straight for your room. You don’t get too far, though, because Tom captured your hand and is twirling you around just like earlier in the night.

He traps you on the door, instantly warm against you. You feel his bulge poke your bare thigh as he spreads your legs slightly, fitting in between them. He grabs your hands and pins them above your hands.

“Your dress,” Rough and raspy, his breath fans your cheek.

“What about it?” You whisper, swallowing as your heart falters.

“I need it on the floor,” He husks. You hesitate, so aroused you can’t think straight. You just had an orgasm in the car and you were already horny again. This man made you insatiable.

“Then take it off,” You reply. Everything was so quiet around you. The only things you could hear were your ragged breathing and galloping heart. Tom groans, but listens.

He drops your hands and then folds the straps off your shoulders until your dress is pooled around your ankles. Now, you stood anxious in nothing but a black thong.

“Fuck me,” He grumbles after just looking at you for a second. Your breasts were bare and perky, nippled pebbled from being so turned on. He wanted to put them in his mouth and suck on them until you were sore and begging him to stop.

“That’s the goal,” You’re not sure if he got the reference, but he chuckled, voice even more raspy from the low talking.

“I knew you heard that conversation, you minx,” Without a warning, Tom sweeps you off the ground and throws you over his shoulder. You squeal, squirming in his hold, but it doesn’t even phase him as he leads you toward his bedroom. He jokingly slaps one of your ass cheeks causing you to shriek at the jolt of pain. You won’t lie, it turned you on even more.

Tom tosses you on the bed easily, watching as you scramble to lay on your elbows. You gaze at him with a seductively lip bite, wondering what he has in store for you.

“Touch yourself,” He orders as he loosens his bowtie around his neck. “C’mon, want to see what you can do.”

Hesitatingly, your hand sails down to your laced thong, slick with arousal. Your fingers rub your throbbing clit causing you to sigh and spread your legs. Your eyes drift shut as you get immersed in the feeling of your own hand. Your other hand massages your breast, gently pulling on your nipples. Getting eager, you yank your panties off. You get a glimpse at Tom, who is admiring your every move in nothing now.

Fuck.

You’ll never get used to Tom’s body. He was attractive on a God-scale level and sometimes that scared you. But finally seeing his whole body was jaw-dropping. His cock was girthy with a good amount of length that you had a feeling would kill you. His tip was pink like his lips, and like his lips, you wanted your mouth on it. Was he even real?

You didn’t get too much time to think about it because Tom was removing your hand from between your legs while hovering over you. His brown orbs ogle yours, piercing into your soul and reading you. Although you were way past friendship, entering the “romance” area was very scary. If not, scarier. Tom’s body above yours and the way you could see every detail of his skin terrified you. But you’ve never wanted something more in your entire life.

You pushed your head up, interlocking your lips with his. You melt into a passionate kiss, your hands entwining with his brown locks. Tom drags his lips down your neck, sucking for a moment on a sensitive part. Moaning, his smirks smugly against your skin, trailing lower. He meets your breast and immediately begins to suck on it.

You sharply inhale as his tongue swirls around the bud. His other hand twists the other causing your back to bend off the mattress. It should be illegal for him to be this good with his mouth. He could cause some serious damage.

He sails lower and lower until he’s kissing the skin near your heat. You’re already panting and he hasn’t even touched you yet. His mouth licks your thighs, teasing you immensely. You had already come once tonight around his fingers, you didn’t expect his mouth too. Although you would love to have his mouth on you, right now, you just needed him inside of you. You needed to feel him stretch you out and officially break that boundary.

“I really need you inside of me. Like right now,” You yank on his hair, pulling him towards you. He moans at your words and you love how vocal he is.

“Need a condom, fuck, hold on–”

“Can you actually um…not have one?” You suggested, voice shaky as the question came out. You just wanted to feel him. Everything that he was willing to give you, you wanted. You’ve both waited too long for this. In some way, you felt like you were in a relationship with him this whole time.

Maybe that’s what friendship to relationship feels like.

“Are you…are y’sure? I mean, I’m clean and everythin’–”

“Tom,” You put a reassuring hand to his warm cheek. “I’ve never wanted something more.”

“Christ,” He grits and strokes his shaft above your cunt a few times. His tip teases your entrance, and the small, but very bare contact had you both hissing into the air. “So fucking wet for me.”

His dribble of pre-cum mixes with your arousal as he rubs himself against you. Finally after ten years of waiting, literally, he slowly pushed himself inside of you. The crown of his cock is squeezed by your walls as if you were going to lose him. He curses, pulling himself out an inch, just to add more of his length.

Just like you craved, you feel the impending stretch as his entire cock gradually enters you. Once he’s fully in you, you sigh as he holds the position for a moment. You both take in the feeling of the moment; you’re never going to forget his body on yours or the look on his face as he slowly moves.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight, darlin’,” Tom moans with a lip bite.

“Please, please, move,” Just as eager as you, he obeys your request.

He lifts his hips, almost pulling completely out, before thrusting back inside. You cohesively moan, your mixed sounds echoing off the hotel walls. His leisure rocks gently accelerate into powerful pumps, hitting that sensitive spot with a simple nudge of his cock. Your body naturally levitates toward his body, pushing your neglected breasts on his skin.

Tom rams his cock into you, pinning you to the bed with his harsh thrusts. His head falls in the cradle of your shoulder as one of his hands lifts your leg to spread you wider. When his dick sinks entirely deeper, you gasp and drown in a mix of moans and screams. Your nails dig into his tough shoulder blades, probably leaving crescent moon shaped marks. Your leg wraps around his backside, forcing him to be deep inside of you forever.

Your head is thrown back onto his pillow, hair fanned out wildly. When Tom lifts his head to look at you, the wind practically gets knocked out of him. You were drop-dead gorgeous in your dress, like he said. God, your naked, bare figure nearly sent him into cardiac arrest. But watching you wither in complete bliss underneath him gave him a sense of pride that he was the one making you feel this way. No one else. And it would never be anyone else ever again.

With this thought, his cock pumps barbarically into you, rightfully proving to you that your friendship will never be the same. He repeatedly pokes at your G-spot, eliciting debauched shrieks from you. When you thought it couldn’t feel any better, Tom’s hand sneaks between you both and circles lightly on your clit.

“Feels so good. God, you’re so good,” You praise breathily. Clenching around him, a shuddering moan leaves him. “I’m so close, please.”

“Gonna come for me, hm? Need to feel you come around my cock,” Tom orders with another jarring thrust into your cunt. Your eyes roll to the back of your head with his demanding words, your body on the verge of caving.

Squeezing around him greedily, your entire figure tenses as an overpowering wave of relief floods over you. Your abdominal muscles clench intensely, your hands cramping from fisting his skin so hard. Your legs flutter around him as you begin to coat his cock in your release. At the same time, you feel the twitch of Tom’s length inside of you, alerting you that he’s close.

“Where do you want me to…” He grunts when you clutch around him from overstimulation. A string of curses leak from his mouth as he holds back his load, waiting for your response.

“I-Inside, please. Fuck, I need it inside of me, Tom,” You panted as he practically growls against your perspired skin.

“Fuckin’ killing me, angel. Shit,” Finally, Tom releases into you, pumping sloppily as he does so. You sigh relievingly as his orgasm covers your walls, tingling your insides. He slowly pushes every drop inside of you, ensuring you didn’t miss any.

Your eyelids flutter closed as Tom falls on the bed beside you. Your body sinks into the mattress beneath you, suddenly too tired to move. You had a keen feeling that tomorrow you would struggle to walk, or move in general.

“Tom,” You start. “I think you just ruined me forever.”

“Good,” His post-orgasm was somehow even more sexy. It was groggy and double raspy. He drags your body towards him and holds you close. Your head relaxes on his buff chest, his rapid beating heart making you smile to yourself. “I want to ruin you for everyone else.”

The heat on your skin that you thought had ceased never did, not with his flirtatious and alluring comments. A flush creeps up and makes your cheeks all warm against his torso.

“You know you’re mine now, right?”

“That’s definitely not how I pictured you asking me out…”

“Well, how did you picture it?” The truth is, you never really pictured it. You never let yourself think that far because then you would start getting hopeful. And being hopeful made you scared, and when you were scared…you ran away. It was a constant loop of life you lived in. However, with Tom lying beside you as your face was cradled in his chest, you had a feeling you wouldn’t have a problem staying this time.

“How about “Will you be my girlfriend?” That seems better.”

“But what if you said no? Might as well jus’ say you’re mine, so you can’t,” He kisses the top of your head softly while you roll your eyes at his foolishness. “Aren’t you glad you went now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” You wave him off. Realizing you have to get up from the comfort of his security, you gently push yourself up into a sitting position.

“I really don’t want to get up.”

“Then don’t? Just stay here. We don’t ever have to leave this room again.”

“As much as I love you, I’m not sleeping with a face full of makeup,” You begin to slide off the bed before you realize what you just said.

Oh fuck. Did you just admit you loved him after not even five minutes of being in a relationship?

“You love me?” He gripped your wrist, but didn’t spin you like what he did earlier. This time he let you stand still in shock of your own words. In every other situation you would have run away or made some excuse. But you wanted to be different. You didn’t want to be so easily intimidated by intimacy or vulnerability anymore. You really did love Tom, you always have, even if it took you a little longer than him to realize it.

Maybe instead of avoiding it, just go with it.

“Yeah, I do,” You smile full-heartedly at Tom, delicately biting your lip. A part inside of you bursted open, unlocking all sorts of emotions you didn’t know how to comprehend or express.

“I love you too, So much,” You both lean in to share a passionate kiss, but you cut it short to seriously push him off of you, so you could leave and wash up. If you didn’t have an ounce of self-control for the both of you, you would never leave this hotel room. Tom was clearly the insatiable one.

“If you don’t come back to my bed in five minutes, I’m dragging your ass in here. No warnings,” Tom says before you strut out of his room completely naked. You hear him groan to himself, which makes you giggle like a young school girl.

Walking to your bathroom, the same uncontrollable smile etches on your face like the one you had when you returned to the hotel. You splashed icy cold water to your heated cheeks and tried to rub away the plastered grin, but nothing could dull the adoration you felt for the other man in your hotel room. Instead of trying to erase it, you stared and allowed yourself to feel the emotion without running away from it.

A girl in love with her best friend.

A boy in love with his best friend.

Best friends who are stupidly in love with each other.

–

this was wayy longer than i thought. i liked this a lot more than i thought i would, too. i hope you enjoyed it just as much :D

tags: @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @raajali3

crossed out= not able to tag

#shawnxstyles #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fan fics #tom holland fan fic #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland fluff #tom holland best friends to lovers #tom holland friends to lovers

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