#daily torso video

[dailytorso]

Day 74

Daily Torso Video

#dailytorso #daily torso #daily torso video #back fat #obese #fat #daily photo #215lbs #weightgain #weightfluctuation #anxietyhasruinedmylife #anxiety #depression #comforteating #eatingyourfeelings

[catboyieejeno]

gameboy :: p.js — one

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sung? Sung!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck even was that? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit, shit, shit. 

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

“Hello?” 

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

“Sung?” 

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

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

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

He hears you yawn and smiles fondly. 

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

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

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

God, no, he thinks.  

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

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

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

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

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

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could it be… No. No way. 

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

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

“Park Jisung?” 

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

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

“You’re welcome, Professor.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Will we be able to select our partners?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

“She was obnoxious, you have no idea!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

I know! He thinks. 

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

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

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

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

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

“No!” Wow. Good going, Jisung.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How so?” 

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

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

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

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

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

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah… he’ll think more on that later. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like an e-date?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

“I like you, too.” 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 6:49PM

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

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 8:22 PM

you’re so cute

i can barely think 

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 9:14 PM

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

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 10:58 PM

i should get to sleep 

but i don’t wanna stop texting you

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 12:02 AM

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

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

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

“Your partner will be,” 

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

 “Lee Chan.” 

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

“Your constellation is-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this seat taken?” 

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

“No.” He replies shortly. 

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

“You’re Ji-sun, right?” 

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

“W-what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any of those work for me,” 

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

“Sure.” 

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

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

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

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

Feeling slightly more confident, he types up his message. 

To: 555-111-0205

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

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

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

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

“Hi-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, right.” Chenle scoffs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Computer Lab 4C?” 

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

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

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

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

To: 555-111-0205

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jisung? You okay?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You live close by?” 

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

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

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

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

 “I’ll see you in class?” he asks. 

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

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

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

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

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

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

“Hi…” 

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

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

“I-thanks but,” 

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

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

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

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

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—then she’ll be there, too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you know if Chaewon is here?” 

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

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

“Yo, what do you mean bounce?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mark, there’s so many girls here.” 

“I know, but—” 

“But Chaewon.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you I don’t wanna—Jisung?” 

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

“What are you doing out here?” 

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

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

“I’m fine—“ 

“This should help,” 

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

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

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

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

“How about the library?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you nod eagerly, “let’s go.” 

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

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

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

“Foul.” 

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

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

“I can tell. You’re stumbling.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Jisung.” 

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

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

“Yeah, I’m almost done!”

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

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

“You’re Ji-sun, right?” 

“—Sung.”

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

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

Could it be… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” 

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

“Sung? Right? That’s you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Since when did you know it was me?” 

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

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

“I was so excited when I found out,” 

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

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

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

“You’re really pretty in person.” 

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

“What’s that—” 

“Oh nothing! It’s just—” 

“Is that my cardigan?” 

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

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

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

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

“Jisung.” 

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

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

“I-” 

“Were you?” You ask sternly. 

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

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

“Show me.”

*. * ·

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

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

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

[matan4il]

I was going to refer to this Newsweek op ed, written by Doctor Qanta Ahmed, in my daily update post, but when I was looking for which part to quote, I found that it was ALL too important to leave out. So here is all of it:

I was in scrubs from the wet morgue at Abu Kabir when I learned Queen Rania of Jordan questioned whether Israeli children had verifiably been killed by Hamas on October 7. Hugely appealing to the West, ranked among Forbes's 100 most powerful women, among the top ten most followed international leaders on Instagram, dressed routinely by Valentino, Schiaparelli and Dior, and of Palestinian origin (her family is from the West Bank's Nablus), Queen Rania is undeniably a global icon. And her powerful voice became the opening salvo to a chorus of innumerable deniers, a further barbarism dehumanizing the victims of Hamas' atrocities targeting women and girls.

Hearing her strident tone, even as I was surrounded by Israeli Jews, Israeli Christians, and Israeli Muslims still reeling with shock, cut to my core.

Days after the attacks, as a Muslim woman committed to combating Islamism and a physician, I traveled at my own expense to the Gaza envelope to view the aftermath of Hamas' butchery. I examined the cadavers of the murdered and defiled; the corpses of the decapitated and immolated. I spoke with the victims of Hamas, including a former hostage—a Muslim physician—and numerous witnesses to Hamas' express barbarity against women, children, girls, and infants, brutally violated in life, in utero and in death.

I inspected bodies that had been repeatedly stabbed, shot, and crushed. I examined mutilated bodies, restrained with cables, electrical cords, and zipties, still in place post-mortem, and those that had been decapitated and incinerated at temperatures approaching 3,000 degrees Celsius.

Back in New York City, Israeli criminal prosecutor Ayelet Razin Bet Or shared with me evidence compiled in Israel's ongoing investigation into Hamas' crimes. Michal Yaniv, Head of Foreign Affairs on Israel's National Security Council, provided me testimonies recorded by Israeli security officials.

One account, far from unusual, is especially harrowing: A woman who survived the Nova music festival in Re'im witnessed a young woman encircled by Hamas, stripped naked, violated, and manhandled by multiple Hamas terrorists as they gang raped her, repositioning her by the waist and hips, moving from one rapist to the other.

Shuddering at the memory, covering her face, with difficulty, the eyewitness continued: One terrorist pulled the woman's long hair, forcibly arching her neck backwards, fully exposing her naked torso, only to sever both her breasts from her chest with his commando knife. Her entire torso fell backwards, slackened in agony. She may have fainted, though she lived through the mutilation. The disembodied breasts fell to the ground, where terrorists casually played with them.

Sergeant Major Natah Katz from the IDF Rabbinical Unit at the Shura base near Ramle described to me cadavers he received with breasts and genitals hacked off, one with a knife impaled directly into the vagina. The mutilation of sexual organs and breasts, "seemed to be an obsession," he recalled. Dr. Chen Kugel, head of Israel's National Forensic Center has confirmed to me the same.

Indeed, Hamas arrived with orders to mass rape: Phrasebooks belonging to Hamas found in the Re'im area listed phonetic Hebrew commands in Arabic "Take your clothes off!"; " Spread your legs!'; "Get down!" Terabytes of their own video data confirm Hamas raped, amputated breasts, mutilated women's genitals, and committed systematic sexual crimes on both the living and the dead. Necrophilia has been explicitly reported.

Despite all of this, almost two months would pass before the U.N. denounced the October 7 sexual violence during hearings. Congressional and Senate Hearings must urgently follow.

Silence ensures Islamist antisemitism overrides human morality. Silence also grants open season for Hamas to continue these obscene crimes with impunity, as they likely still do this hour upon the remaining 129 hostages in captivity.

Genocidal rape has no context. Contextualization is contemptibly antisemitic and pure misogyny, if not open Islamist sympathy.

Repudiation must reverberate globally. In the meantime, I will not rest until Congress, the Senate, and the U.N. speak in unison on the international humanitarian values protecting women, for only then can the decapitated screams of the tiny girl in Abu Kabir can at last be granted silence.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish

[makethatelevenrings]

On the Edge // B. Wayne x f!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI go read Percy Jackson pls not this, sex toys, dildo, vaginal penetration, masturbation, dom/sub relationship, denied orgasm, camera sex

Summary: Bruce has been at the Watchtower for a few days now and you’re frustrated. Things ensue.

“I miss you.”

Your confession was met with a laugh suffused with warmth. A grin crept up onto your lips as the grainy video grew and glitched until it smoothed out into the handsome face of your husband. Bruce looked positively exhausted, bags clinging to his blue eyes, but he kept a straight face. He always refused to show any sign of fatigue, but he also knew better than to hide himself from you.

“You look like shit,” you commented lightly. His lips lifted into a small smile at that and he planted his forearms on the small wooden table that you knew was tucked into the corner of his quarters on the Watchtower. His cowl hung behind his head, but the rest of the suit was still on. He must have left a meeting and come straight here for your daily call.

“You’ve always had such a way with words,” he grunted, but there was no heat behind his words. “How was patrol last night?”

“Good ,” you reported. The stack of reports next to you all said the same thing. Easy night, minimal injuries, and a few low level criminals locked away. No Arkham breakouts and there was nothing from your contacts about major players making moves. You weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth here.

You leaned forward and the collar of Bruce’s button down that covered your torso slipped down just a bit. His eyes immediately locked onto the skin exposed on his screen and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Good, your plan was working.

He’d been gone a week now and you missed him terribly. The bed was cold at night and you hated running patrol from the cave, not feeling confident that you could pull one of your kid’s out of danger the way he could. Bruce was solid and secure.

And he also was the image of many night time fantasies that led to your hand sliding under the band of your underwear and touching yourself. But he had made himself very clear before he left:

You can touch yourself all you want, but you weren’t allowed to come.

The worst part was that you had no timeframe for when he was coming home. You had no idea when relief would come and instead found yourself pulling your hand away from your soaked pussy before you reached that high. Bruce did so much for you and Gotham and the world that the least he deserved was his desired sight of seeing you come apart.

That didn’t mean you wouldn’t be a little shit about it.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that, darling,” he purred. You batted your lashes and grinned.

“Well, if the world’s greatest detective didn’t see that one coming, I would have been concerned.”

His piercing blue eyes studied you from the other side of the screen before he leaned back in his seat and waved his hand. “Legs up on the desk. Spread them.”

Your breath caught in your throat. He wouldn’t…oh, but he would. There wasn’t a more secure line in the world than this single video call. Bruce would never risk anyone overhearing the two of you discuss the family, the Bat, or the Justice League.

And he certainly wouldn’t risk someone overhearing this.

You complied with his order, but you made sure to take your time. Other than his button down, you wore nothing else except a pair of heels that he had commented on once about how nice they made your ass look. With one heel on his desk, you slowly raised your other leg and planted it on the solid mahogany of his desk. Spreading your legs, your glistening cunt was revealed to the camera and Bruce let out a low, throaty groan as he ran a hand over his face.

“God, I wish I was there to taste you,” he murmured. “Look at how pretty you are.”

Heat rose to your cheeks and you almost turned away from him. A diamond ring sat on your finger, marking his claim on you, and had been sitting there for a few years now but he still made you feel like a bashful idiot. Bruce leaned closer to the camera and hummed.

“Wet already,” he commented. “Touch yourself.”

Your hand moved without another thought and you slid the pad of your middle finger over the nub at the top of your cunt. A hiss of air escaped through your clenched teeth as you touched your aching clit. It had been played with for days now with little relief. Your pussy fluttered at the thought of finally getting to come apart. Maybe Bruce would allow you this opportunity.

“Good. Now, slide one finger in there. That’s a good girl.” His voice lowered and neared the gruff register of the Bat as you slid your pointer finger into your weeping cunt and sighed.

“Doesn’t feel as good as you do, sir,” you whined. 

“Oh, really? You need a cock inside of you to satisfy you?” You squirmed at his words, your cunt tightening around your finger as if it recognized the lack of a thick, curved dick filling it. Bruce chuckled at your neediness.

“You know where the toys are, darling. Go get yourself a few things and then come right back.”

You were up and out of the seat in a second. A wooden chest tucked deep in your shared closet held a collection that the two of you had amassed over your relationship. You grabbed a thick, silicone dildo that was similar in thickness and length to Bruce’s. Hurrying back, you returned to the seat and spread your legs up on the desk once more while displaying your find to the camera.

“Good girl. You’re going to be good for me, right? You’re not going to come until I say so.”

“Yes, sir.” He was always a good dom. Bruce needed this control and you were glad to give it over to him. Bruce could be intense, but he never pushed your farther than you could take. So you knew whatever he had planned right now had to be good.

“Is there lube on the toy?”

You quickly added some waterproof lube to the tip of the dildo and held it up for him to see. He nodded approvingly and a tiny thrill shot through your chest.

“Now take that cock and press it against yourself. Keep your eyes on me, darling. I want to see you like this.”

His words lit your nerves on fire as you followed his order. Bruce was sitting up straight in his chair and all of his attention was focused on you. Hell, if he was Clark, the laptop would probably be destroyed from heat vision based on how intently Bruce watched you.

“Fuck yourself with it, darling. Ten strokes.” He counted you through the strokes and you moaned, your head falling back against the leather chair as the dildo filled you up and scraped against your walls.

“Stop!” You immediately stilled your hand and whined at the injustice of it all. Bruce sat there with a grin and you knew at that moment, you were screwed.

“Did that feel good, baby?”

You cracked one eye open and sent a halfhearted glare towards the camera. You ignored his chuckle as you shifted slightly and the dildo shifted inside of you. Bruce settled back in his chair.

“Again. Ten, nine, eight…”

He made you do this four times before you were a panting, writhing mess. Pleads of mercy fell from your tongue as you looked upon your savior. Bruce’s gaze was hungry, flames burning in his icy stare.

“Please, sir,” you whimpered. “Please, let me come.”

Your legs were shaking from stimulated nerves and frustration and tears leaked out of the corner of your eyes. You were seconds away from sobbing solely because you were so damn horny, you couldn’t think.

“Take the toy out,” he ordered.

With a trembling hand, you pulled out the dildo and hissed as it brushed against your sensitive walls. Its silicone body was drenched in lube and your slick wetness and you knew your next plan of action.

Raising the dildo to your lips, you winked at the camera and pressed a kiss to the tip.

Bruce stood up from his seat, his cape flaring out behind him as he moved, and planted both hands on the table his computer rested on.

“I’m going straight to the Zeta tube and will be home in five minutes. If you aren’t on your knees and begging for my cock the second I walk into that bedroom, you won’t come for the next week. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.” With a triumphant smirk, you ended the call and stood on your shaky legs. You would take the next few minutes to rest before you got into position. You had a feeling that you would get plenty of rest after he fucked you to sleep.

Tag List: @someoneimsure @perpetual-fangirl900 @visagebrise @alexxavicry​  @the-wayward-daughter @cursedandromedablack 

#bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #batman imagine #batman x reader #batman smut

[watermelonsugacry]

I know we kinda know how YN is whenever Harry goes out on stage but how does he react to her being on stage? I would LOVE to see that dynamic

Whenever Harry is preparing for a show, his green room has an overall calm vibe to it: he brushes his teeth at least twice, everyone sits around on the leather couches and chats, cracking jokes, and gets dressed in his outfit for the night.

For YN's shows, she's never off her feet. Much like Harry though, when YN gets to the venue she's performing at, she's working out—running up and down the stairs, doing lunges all around the perimeter of the vast room.

If Harry was with her during the day, he would sit and watch as she zooms through her workout. When he would see her slowing down on never-ending steps, he would join her on the stairs and encourage her to continue with comforting words or (the most effective method) make it a competition to get through her exercises.

Then she does run-throughs of her dance routines on stage with her tour dancers. Sometimes they're full out or just vaguely going through their places. Harry respects her space when she's focused on her dancing so he likes to sit on one of the equipment boxes in the pit with her manager. He just sits there, one leg over the other with his chin resting in the palm of his hand and a fond smile on his lips.

He loves to see her move around the stage in the way that she does. He has a front-row seat to see the way her deliciously toned and thick thighs move with strength and grace. His eyes love to scan over the strip of skin between her athletic shorts and tank top—one of his favorite places he loves to take a bite out of. And speaking of his favorite parts of her he loves to sink his teeth into, he doesn't even try to hide the way his gaze drops to the way her bum bounces when she goes from jumping around the stage to her final pose.

When she has to go to her dressing room to shower and get her makeup done, Harry's there to chit-chat with her about anything and everything. He waits patiently on one of the leather couches and talks with his fiancée's manager, Jeff, and a couple of other people from her team. When she finally emerges in her first outfit for the night, she immediately goes to the full-length mirror to adjust the fluffy material on her shoulders.

A smile creeps its way on her face when she sees her love's ring covered hands run over her glittery torso and he holds her from behind.

"So pretty," He mumbles against her temple before planting a kiss there.

One thing Harry admires about YN is that she takes the time to appreciate the people on her tour team.

When she walks down the venue halls, she addresses everyone she passes by name, even stopping by the lesser appreciated technician crew members and asking about the daily updates about their families. It's quite a sight to see her decked out in her full glittery, pink stage outfit next to her crew members in their black attire.

One of her favorite times before heading further backstage is to stop by the greenroom where her four tour dance crew members finish getting ready. For a good ten minutes, they just blast some music and dance like it's one big party to hype them up for the sold-out show.

And when it's time to officially head to the stage, YN threads her fingers with Harry's as they walk backstage. The crew members shine their flashlights on their feet as they navigate the dark areas. She takes a moment to shake out her limbs, closing her eyes and lulling her head from shoulder to shoulder.

As her introduction video begins to end, the two are escorted further down to get under the stage. She can hear the fans screaming and it only gets her more excited to get on stage. Once she's crouching down on the risen platform, she grips onto her fiancé's hand one more time and takes a deep breath.

"Have fun out there," YN nods her head with a breathtaking smile at his words. "I love you."

"I love you," She yells over the increasing sound of her awaiting fans.

Despite her getting in trouble multiple times from her make-up artist, she still leans in to give her love their traditional kiss before heading out on stage. And without fail, YN giggles when she sees how some of her lip gloss stays on his lips.

She giddily moves her fingers together at the twinkly sound of her opening song, Juicy.

With a nod from her backstage crew, she plants her feet securely on the platform to move into her opening pose as they begin to lift her on stage.

Harry laughs when she throws him a cheeky smile before quickly getting into her happily pleased expression, like her performing to a stadium full of fans didn't affect her.

SINCE 2010 masterlist

Taglist:

@wobblymug @be-with-me-so-happily @ashtongivesmebutterflies @kiwiskiwiskiwi @darlingdesire @obsesseddd @hopefulwastelandcreation @cacapeepee @breezie-b00 @harrysfolklore @theekyliepage @sunshinemoonsposts @nervousspiderling @tbslonelyhes @tenaciousperfectionunknown @harrystylesrecs @certified-nalayak @itsjustsel @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @gviosca @behindmygreyeyes @twobluejeans @allisonxmcu @theemeraldbutterfly @jean-love @marvellover-sam @b-reads-things @reveriehs @rach2602 @thurhomish @perrypughstyles @luvonstyles @mxltifxnd0m @teamspideyman @c00chiemonster @juiceboxrry @s8tellite @folklorehrry @illicithallways @claramllera @eunoiaax @hoya122 @nichmedder @sleutherclaw @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @harianaswhore @teawithcyb0rgs @vrittivsanghavi @vc55bughead @futuristiccroissantlampsludge @onecrazydirectioner @valluvsu @itsgabbysblog @awkwardbisexuall @rosehel @sucker4angstt @isalove @diorchives @mrshiddlestyles02

#since 2010 series #harry x 1dbandmember!reader #1dbandmember!yn #harry styles and reader #harry styles and you #harry styles and y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles album #harry styles x you #harry styles x singer!reader #harry styles x famous!reader #famous!reader #famous!yn #harry styles masterlist #harry styles concert #harry styles concept #harry styles fluff

[miguelswifey04]

sacrificial lamb—a miguel angst drabble

“did you miss me, miguel?” you tread lightly, your footsteps soft as a feather as you envelop him into your arms from behind. your body is gently pressed on his muscular back feeling the way his back falls and rises from each breath he takes in. you could feel him sigh in relief knowing you’re safe from your mission. what a relief!

“yes, i’ve missed you mi vida,” he slowly turned around as he wrapped his strong biceps around your shoulders, nuzzling his face into your hair. your black beautiful locs. they smell so good from the coconut oil and products that you put on a daily bases to keep it from frizzing. he cannot get enough of the sweet aroma of the hair products and yours combined. you return the hug as you wrap your arms around his torso. you could feel his heart beating and the way he breathes, it is like music to your ears and it calms you down. eases you and possibly could lull you to sleep if you’re that tired. he kissed you up all over his face. you were encased by his love and affection and you wished for this to last for a lifetime.

but alas things don’t turn out that way, do they?

-

though, he wish he could hug you again. *click clack* were the sounds of his heavy foot steps the carried a burden. the responsibility of the world on his back. his shoulders are slung down from the weight of world’s problems that need fixing everyday. one step at a time, though. one step at a time is what miguel would tell himself. one step at a time is what you used to tell him when he needed your comfort and your support.

he replays videos of his happiest moments with you and all your firsts. god, how did i mess up this bad? is what miguel would tell himself as he slammed his fists down onto the desk.

oh, was the universe so cruel to miguel. he is paying for his sins for having taken over his variant’s life—caring for a child that wasn’t his causing her whole universe to disintegrate. now he faces the consequences yet again. the universe is now getting back at him and he only has himself to blame. you were a sacrifice made for the greater good of the multiverse, and miguel hated himself for that. a sacrificial lamb. he couldn’t save you like he couldn’t save his own ‘daughter’. now, he has to learn to be lonely again. without you. without his daughter, and without his loved ones.

#spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #atsv x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #spider person #miguel o’hara x y/n #🌱 lin writes #spidersona #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara angst #atsv angst #miguel o’hara

[rushingheadlong]

okay, last post about the tank top (for now, until we inevitably get more photos) but setting aside the flailing and thirsting and excitement and everything else for a moment here

more than anything I am just SO happy that Brian felt comfortable enough to wear that tank top out onstage again without anything else over it

because he's obviously been using tank tops as his undershirt for the entire tour so far but even with everything being posted from soundchecks and hotels and his stationary bike we haven't seen him in just the tank on this tour before. he's wearing these constantly now, nearly daily, and until Halloween every image of him from this tour had been with an overshirt on or wearing a different t-shirt entirely.

and we know that Brian had(/has) body image issues and if you look at his entire wardrobe over the entire course of his life it's pretty freaking obvious that at least some of those issues are with his torso and shoulders. yes he's allergic to buttons but how many photos do we have of him actually shirtless compared to, say, Roger or Freddie?

more than that, how many times has he performed with Queen while wearing a tank top? I'll tell you right now you can count it on one hand and it's never been during a Queen concert specifically. the closest he's ever gotten has been rolling up his sleeves during the Q+PR years, or the handful of times he did the same in the 80s.

"we was glam!" Brian once said, and honestly that's probably a large reason why he's never worn tanks onstage with Queen before. because Queen's aesthetic is very different than that of his solo tours, and Q+AL is very different from Q+PR in that the glam vibes that Adam brings allow Brian to return to some of his own stage costume roots. Brian has a wild number of shirt and/or outfit changes during the show, and even the "street clothes" he wears on stage are sparklier than they ever were during the Q+PR years - not to mention that he's actually wearing costumes again, with the borhap solo outfits and the military jackets and everything else he does.

Brian may not be "fashionable" in the sense of being into fashion, following trends, etc. but he has always been extremely aware of how to follow the fashion in Queen specifically (and one day I'll write up that post about how Brian and Freddie continued wearing "costumes" onstage long past the point where Roger and John stopped....). it's really obvious when you look at Brian on the Magic Tour, where his stagewear is mostly just street clothes that vibe with what Roger and John are wearing, but he still pulls out those fabulous coats towards the end of the show to match the grandeur and spectacle that comes with a Queen finale.

Brian is clearly comfortable wearing tank tops in general but it's a very different matter for him to a) wear them publicly, where there will be photos and videos of it on the internet forever and b) wear them during a Queen show in 2023 when they match nothing else going on with his stagewear for this tour.

and I don't want to spend a lot of time on Point A because I am sick to fucking death of trying to get this fandom to understand that cracking "jokes" about the visible signs of natural aging (like the shoulder hair) isn't actually funny, especially when people are doing it on platforms that Brian himself is on like instagram

but with regards to Point B, like... there was just no reason for Brian to do this. there's no reason he couldn't have worn the Frank mask with the mirror ball suit, or if there was a reason he still could've worn an overshirt like he did when they had timing issues and he couldn't do his quick-change a few shows back.

but clearly Brian wanted to do this. he wanted THAT to be his Halloween costume specifically - not the mirror suit or his stagewear with a mask added, but a full outfit that was specifically unique for that moment in that show even if it was pulled from other clothing pieces he already had on hand.

it's a choice that, for about 20 seconds, made him completely visually different from anything anyone else had worn during that show. it's a choice that doesn't fully match Queen's aesthetic, either then or now, and it's a choice that's already generating some questionable "teasing" at his expense.

Brian has always had his physical appearance put under a microscope. from his height to his hair, the clogs to the unbuttoned shirts, by sheer virtue of the fact that he exists in the public eye Brian cannot wear anything without getting comments and critiques on it to some degree. and as he's aged those comments have naturally shifted to be about his aging - about his decision to dye or stop dyeing his hair, about how much skin he shows and how appealing the rest of the world finds that, how much body hair he now has and the small belly he's gained and everything else that comes along when you're a human being who's been alive for 70+ years.

but despite all of that, Brian wore that tank top on stage.

despite the dozens of reasons why this could have been a bad idea, despite the wildly varying opinions I've already seen, despite the aesthetic of Queen and this tour, despite the routine they already have for his outfit changes, despite the fact that this was always going to special because of the green lights and the Frank mask...

despite everything... Brian stripped down to that tank and stepped onto the raising platform without wearing any of his glam overshirts or special-made costumes, knowing that the thousands of people in that venue were waiting to get pictures and videos of that solo, and that he'd be opening himself up to very specific criticisms about his appearance by doing this.

and Brian was still confident enough, comfortable enough, in himself to do that during possible the highest-stakes moment in the entire show.

so yeah, I'm excited because there's new tank top content and I'm not above admitting that I personally find this sort of confidence very sexy even on a man of Brian's age

but I'm also just happy FOR Brian with this - happy that it went off without a hitch, happy that it has mostly been well-received by fans, happy that he seems to have had fun with it and, above all else, happy to see that any lingering self-doubts or body image issues aren't enough to stop him from giving us a moment like this.

#long post // #text #brian #ramblings #I said at the top that this post wasn't about thirsting after Brian #and it's not #but these are the tags so I get free rein to say whatever I want and it is VERY important to me that yall know #Brian is still so fucking hot in that tank #like. stupidly hot. unfairly attractive. distractingly sexy. #we're talking ''I'd still do him even at 76'' levels of hot here #you can see the fucking muscles in his arms how is the entire fandom not going feral over that right now!! #(I'd apologize for being a gilf on main but this is a sideblog so that's where the gilf-posting is supposed to go asdklfjlkasdjfkla)

[jrvanfleet]

In a Past Life | SFK

Word Count: 450

[Content warnings: none!! This is simply a fluffy little blurb!]

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!reader

You were sitting at your desk, working out your daily planner for the next few months. George Harrison’s album All Things Must Pass spinning on your record player. Light was pouring through the window in front of your desk and the candle your boyfriend gifted you was burning, filling the room with scents of cedar and magnolia. 

You were writing your plans for this month when you heard a bit of a thud and someone’s  footsteps scattering across the floor. Turning around in your chair, your eyes were met with your boyfriend, phone in hand while leaning on the doorframe.

“You okay, baby?” you asked, taking in his slightly disheveled, but excited appearance.

“So I just saw this video saying that your moles or dark freckles are where the love of your life kissed you the most in your past life,” Sam replied as he walked towards you, his phone in hand and facing you. He gave you the phone and pressed play. He was now standing behind you, his hands finding your shoulders, rubbing your shoulders and making their way down to the sides of your arms. 

The two of you watched the tiktok video that described what he was just telling you; like he said, the video talked about your moles represent where your true love kissed you the most in your past life. 

You knew exactly why he was showing you this video. Sam’s face and body had moles and freckles placed delicately on his skin. He has expressed his prior insecurities with having so many spots on his body, but you were always fascinated by the beautiful marks and not a day goes by that you don’t show him how much you love them. 

Your eyes and lips were specifically drawn to the spots on his cheek and his torso. You couldn’t help yourself from placing soft kisses on the marks when you saw them. Sam was always flustered when you showed extra love to parts and pieces he was insecure about…blushing at the thought of you loving every part of him wholly and completely. 

“That’s kind of neat, huh?” he looked at you with wide eyes and his goofy smile.

“That is, Sammy! That’s very cool,” you replied, returning his smile and getting out of your chair. You wrapped your arms around him, your lips instinctively brushing against the moles on his cheek. He let out a little sigh of relief in response, practically melting into your touch. 

“So I guess this is confirmation that you were, are, and always will be the love of my life…no matter what life we’re in, we’re together,” he said, fingers finding your chin, bringing your lips to his.

#sam kiszka x reader #sam gvf #sam kiszka #sammy kiszka #sammy kiszka fanfiction #sammy gvf #greta van fleet #gvf #gvf fanfiction #sam kiszka fluff #gvf fluff #greta van fleet fluff

[gladdygirl18]

Okay okay, ik it's been a while since i posted one of these but believe me, i gotta some stories ready!!! This I feel is gonna be a relatively long post (covering 2 days and 2 nights) so to read it, it will be below the cut

Blue me, pink GF

So on the 15th, MLK Day, I had just gotten back to campus from Chistmas break (loved it, went to Disney ✨🤩) and after my father had left and dropped off some of my belongings, my GF was waiting for me by one of the school gates to head back to her place. She was so adorable and clingly cuz the last time we saw each other was the 8th when she and a mutual friend of ours came to visit my place (had loads of fun 💖🥰)

So when were back at her place, we end up watching some JJK. After a while, my GF and I went into her room to cuddle and make out (to make up for lost time) and she couldn't help but poke me and kiss my neck constantly (i felt like i was on cloud 9, I was so happy 💖🥰💖🥰) Also, we have this thing where we take turns laying on top of one another, being the others weighted blanket (this time it was her turn to be the weighted blanket) and while she was on top of me, she proceeds to tickle me, and she lets out this EVIL LITTLE GREMLIN LAUGH (very endearing) THAT MADE THE TICKLING WOOOOORSE 😳😆💖

Okay, mini side rant: my GF has NATURALLY LONG AND HEALTHY NAILS that i am a bit jealous of cuz i want my nails to be somewhat the same length (and they're beautiful, easpecially when they're painted), but THEY TICKLE LIKE HELL OMGGGGG 😳😳💖

"Weighted blankets ahahaharen't supposed to tihihickle the person under thehehehem!"

"Well..... I'm a special weighted blanket~😈💖"

Once things settled down between us, we went back to the living room to socialize and watch the new Percy Jackson series; it was great. Ofc, whilst watching, my GF insisted on kissing my neck and tickling me (damn near has become a daily thing for her to do, and I am not complaining in the slightest 💖🥰)

The next day (the 16th) my GF and I just stayed in bed for about a good few hours (mainly cuz I didn't get a wink of sleep and when my alarm went off, that's when I finally fell asleep 😅) Once I had woken up and was conscious, my GF took me in her arms and just hugged me, and I proceeded to snuggle into her 🥰 before she lightly traced her nails all over my torso. I grabbed the hand that was tickling me and said, "You're nails make it tickle a lot worse!" "Well, guess I should keep them like this for a while~"

MAAAAA'AAM HELLLOOOOO!??!!?!?! 😳😳💖💖🥰 (i mean i'm not complaining....)

Later that night, my GF, our mutual friend, and I were playing some SSBU and I was getting my ass kicked: I only won twice, my friend won at least 3 or 4 rounds, and my GF won almost every 4-5 rounds in a row (so I was a little salty, and to add salt to the wound, she kept killing me, saying, "I am so sorry, I was aiming for *our mutual friend's name*") I know she meant what she said but it still kinda hurt, and I was getting tired of losing everytime (yeah yeah yeah, call me a sore loser idc....) But one thing that made it all the worth it was that while I was gaining the upper hand on her....

SHE PROCEEDS TO TICKLE ME WHILE I WAS WINNING 💖😆😂😳BROOOOOO WTFFFFF

The amount of fanfic i have read and audios i've listened to with the video game+tickle trope.... To think I would experience that omgggg!!!! And the same shit happened when we were playing Mario Kart!!😳😆 Like bro, I knew she was competitive but to think she'd use ticling as a tactic to win blew my mind 😍😍💖

Don't worry, I got her back too. Whenever she would have a perfect kill streak (kills my character 3 times) I proceeded to tickle her

"It wasn't my fahahahault! I wahahahas aiming fohohohor *our mutual friend's name*! I'm sohohohohohorry!" (her laugh is to die for I swear 😍💖🥰)

That night while we were getting ready for bed, I was still a bit salty that I kept dying in SSBU and falling off the sides in MK. My GF noticed this and proceeds to lay on top of me and says, "Come on babe, let me see your smile" When I refused, she started tickling me lightly with her fucking NAAAAILS OMGGGGG 😳I proceeded to cover my mouth to NOT show her my smile

"Come on hun, let me see your pretty smile, please~?"

After some time when I finally showed my smile, she kisses me and says with a laugh, "Ahhh, I love tickling you"

AHHHHHHHHHH I HAVE ASCENDED OMGGGG 😆😍🥰💖🥰😍😆💖 I WANTED TO CRY, I WANTED TO SCREAM OMGGGGGG!!! SHE REALLY SAID THAT! OMGGG I WANNA CRYYY 😆💖😭😭💖

After settling down, I wanted a hug (me is clingy). My GF turned around and said, "Awww, you're adorable." while proceeding to hug me

"No, I'm not"

"Yes you are. You're adorable, cute, and pretty~"

I TOTALLY wasn't blushing like an idiot 😳😳😳 (for someone to say those things to me made me feel so happy 🥰💖)

"Am not"

"Are too. If not then what are you?" proceeds to lift my face by my chin "Go on, admit you're adorable"

"Or what?"

"Or I'll tickle you~" with her signature gremlin grin

UUUUUHHHHHHH MA'AM YES THE FUCK PLEASE 😳😳💖💖😆

I scoffed and turned over, "Yeah right" (wanting to be tickled again)

"Oh, so you doubt me?" proceeds to place the tips of her nails on my belly (you could practically hear her smile, "You doubt me?"

I turned my head away and didn't answer

"You left your neck wide open babe~" and proceeds to kiss my neck and tickle my belly. While trying to push her hand away while laughing (never worked in the fanfics, def not gonna work irl 😅) she says, "Come on hun, say you're adorble!"

"Okay, okahahahay!" she stops the tickling and stares at me with her hazel-ish silver eyes. i look at her and say, "You're adorable~" (hey I said what she told me to say 🤷🏾‍♀️)

She groans before tickling harder on my stomach, making me laugh louder "That's not what I meant you little shit!" (says in a playful, endearing, and loving way)

When she stops, she looks at me and says "Admit you're adorable."

"Fine, fihihine...... i'm.... adorable..."

"Heheh, I know."

And turns over as if nothing happened. I scoff before I start tickling her back.

"What dihihihihid I dohohoho?! I didn't dohoho anythihihing! Stohohohop"

"Say you're adorable!"

"Okay okahahahay! I'm adohohorable!" (she taps out a lot quicker than me cuz she says she doesn't like being tickled and yet at certain times, she doesn't mind it in the slightest, so I'd want to think I'm rubbing off on her 🥰💖😈)

After we kissed goodnight, we finally went to bed

This was one HELLUVA tickle tea story, but again, this was in the span of 2 days and nights, so ofc there'd be a lot! I really hope you guys enjoyed this as much as me experiencing this! More TTS's to come, so stay tuned!

Edit: my bad, forgot to tag the fwends @giggly-squiggily @cutesmokes @burningablaze @lovelymessybubbly @otomiyaa @sunstone-smiles

#tickle tea stories #irl story

[yespolkadotkitty]

One of These Days - pt 2

Words: 1345 ~ Pairing: Rhett Abbott x female!doctor!reader ~ Content: mentions of injuries

Part 1 here

You see him next at the town bank, a few days later. He almost walks past you as you’re queueing, but then he stops and tips his hat up. “Mornin’ Doc.”

“Good morning. How’s the shoulder?”

“Doin’ better. Thanks.” He rolls it a little. “Should be okay for the rodeo in six days’ time.”

Your mouth falls open and you shut it with a snap. “You’re going?”

“It’s all I’m good at,” he says simply. He doesn’t say it like he’s asking for pity, just like it’s a fact.

“As I said. I doubt that.” You move forward in the queue.

Rhett hesitates, like he’s going to step away and leave you, and for a moment you grasp at something to say to keep him there, because he smells of woodsmoke and some kind of citrussy cologne and it’s addictive, but then he says, “Maybe you’ll come see me ride.”

Your pulse jumps at the thought of all the sweat and noise and sawdust. “I-”

“I don’t mean to pressure you,” he adds, those blue, blue eyes searching your face. His hands are tucked into the back pockets of his jeans, pushing his torso ever so slightly forward, drawing your attention to the open neck of his pale grey henley. Who invented the henley? Was it specifically to draw women’s attention to men’s necks? You think so, sometimes.

“I.. I don’t know what I’m doing yet,” you manage. “My schedule is all over the place.”

“Understood.” He plucks a flyer from one of his pockets and offers it to you. It’s warm from his body and a little crumpled. You take it and your fingers brush his. It’s electric, everything inside you buzzes at the contact. “This is it. Think about it. You can just turn up. No need to book.”

“Okay. I’ll think about it.”

He touches a finger to the brim of his hat, a slight but nonetheless stunning smile briefly touching his lips, and then he’s gone, and you watch the broad line of his shoulders until he leaves the bank with a tinkle of the doorbell.

You reach the front of the queue and the cashier grins at you. “Not bad to look at, is he?”

“I’d have to agree there.”

You make your deposit and go back to work at the clinic. You treat a man who has cut his palm badly mending fences on his land, give a little girl meds for a water infection, and assist an olde gentleman who twisted his ankle on his daily walk.

It’s a good town. Nice. Small, in the way little off-the-track towns are, but that’s OK with you. You’d had enough of the rat race in big cities like Cheyenne and Laramie.

At the end of the work day, you go home to your little rental, exhausted. Medicine might be your calling but it doesn’t mean you aren’t dog-tired by it.

After you eat dinner and video call your mom, you take out the flyer you’d carefully folded into the hip pocket of your jeans. And you think about making the drive.

You must be nuts.

**** 

As it happens, the choice is made for you. 

May calls the day before the rodeo.

“The on call doctor’s sick. Some viral thing. Can you attend the rodeo? It pays time and a half.”

You agree. What else do you have to do? You can’t drive into the city every spare day for entertainment, and you hardly know anyone yet.

When you arrive to the huge, dust-heavy field the rodeo’s set up in, May greets you with an older woman in tow. She’s pretty in a country way, her stetson the same shade as her short, thick hair.

“I’m Cece. Rhett’s mama.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

She smiles easily. “We all think Rhett’s a damned fool to be ridin’ tonight, but my husband, Royal - Rhett’s father - was a star rodeo rider in his youth. It seems to be in the Abbott blood.”

You eye her curiously. “Were you ever a rodeo rider?”

She gives you a brief but charming grin and her face is transformed. “Well. I may have given one bull or two a run for their money.”

May snorts.

You laugh at their obvious close friendship and follow them towards the ring.

The spectators are on the edges of their seats as each rider shoots his shot. It’s clear that everyone taking part today has the support of their loved ones from the huge cheers and cries coming from the bleachers.

You stabilise a broken forearm and wrap a sprained wrist, and then Rhett’s name is called.

You swear you don’t breathe as they settle him on to the bull and wrap his hand on. He looks over and meets your gaze, and you don’t know what comes over you, but you blow him a kiss. What the hell are you doing? You haven’t blown anyone a kiss since you were ten years old.

He catches it with his free hand, tucks it into the front pocket of his shirt.

Your heart bumps as his blue eyes hold yours-

And then he’s poetry in motion on the bucking bronco, one arm in the air, the other holding on for dear life as the animal does its level best to get rid of its burden. The seconds tick by and the crowd as a whole holds its breath. You see the concentration sketched hard across Rhett’s face as he grips the bull with every ounce of strength he possesses.

The huge clock that logs the seconds finally spills over into eight and Rhett wobbles and then topples from the bull. The rodeo hands rush in to distract it before he’s crushed.

The landing doesn’t look too bad. You eye him critically as he stands up and raises his hands to the crowd, and then his azure gaze finds you, and he nods, and smiles. It’s hesitant, like he isn’t sure if you want to be here.

But when he was riding, his body somehow an extension of the bull’s, you wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.

He comes to find you just as you finish treating a female rider with a cut on her shin. She thanks you and limps away into the arms of a man waiting a few feet away.

“You came,” he says, and the bright overhead lights of the rodeo ring cast shadows on his face of planes and angles, highlight the gold in his hair. He holds his hat to his chest.

“On-call doc couldn’t make it. But I enjoyed it. You’re very good at this.”

If you were expecting a snappy comeback, you’d have been disappointed. He just says, “thanks. I was glad, seein’ you there.”

He looks good. His hair is a little rumpled from his hat, but it suits him. Half a day’s beard growth, the colour of a sandy beach in the sunshine, adorns his jaw. His blue and white striped button down contrasts nicely with his rawhide vest.

“I was glad too,” you say, and you mean it. “You hurt?”

“Got off easy today.” He rolls his good shoulder.  “Ain’t always this straightforward.”

You start to pack away your tools and kit. “I can imagine.”

He waits until you’ve zipped your bag. “Have a drink with me?”

“I’m driving back tonight.”

“Just one? I promise not to keep you out past curfew,” he adds, dimple winking in his already too handsome face.

And you know that you’re going to have that drink.

-----

Tagging @airplaneanon @hederasgarden @wildbornsiren @nerdysuperchick @lorecraft @a-reader-and-a-writer @callsign-phoenix @sebsxphia @hoe-on-the-range @green-socks @3tabbiesandalab @thelifeofthelifeofme @straightforwardly @cowboybarbie @therebeccaw @hope-love-equality2 @colereads @iangiemae @blackwidownat2814 @lawfulgranola @marchingicenotes7 @fairyheart

#rhett abbott #lewis pullman #outer range #outer range fic #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott x you

[xtrasauce]

Coworker!Dabi x Reader

here i had a dream about this scenario so naturally i just swapped in dabi so let’s gooooo  reader is female. it’s a coworker au. dabi’s real name is used here, please be warned for spoilers on that. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, stifling a groan at what felt like total ineptitude. Five months you had been at this job, you felt as though you should know how to open an email and join a conference. Something so simple shouldn’t be so unmaneuverable; but after a solid 20 minutes of trying to gather any information on where you could find the link to this conference call, and failing miserably, you knew you needed some help. A quick text to your coworkers, hoping somebody would be able to help you and put you out of your technologically crude misery. It was only you present in the office today, so you took the opportunity to wear a comfortable dress: with flowy short sleeves and an open hem that allowed you to walk freely - normally an attire that was just under the dress code meant for your daily work dress. With the thought of you being alone, you didn’t expect the sound of the door behind you. With no opportunity to turn, a hand seized hold of your mouse. “I already sent it to your email. I don’t know what happened but it looks like you weren’t CC’d on it for some reason.” Your coworker, Touya, had quickly opened the conference call for you with ease, the voices of your superiors already coming in over the speakers. Thankfully this was just a voice call, so no video chatting necessary - a detail you were thankful for. Relief swept over your face, with your arm wrapping around Touya’s torso as an affectionate response for his quick assistance. “You’re a lifesaver, Touya, thank you so much.” A simple hum was all you received in response. You did your best to take notes for this conference, but your attention was slowing waning to the monotony of the whole thing. So when the soft ping of your phone rings you eagerly pick it up, the conference call meeting a swift abandonment. Your friends were looking to get food after work tonight and in your mind you couldn’t think of a better way to end your day. With the knowledge of getting a meal with some good company, the conference in front of you was a complete afterthought. …So much so that you didn’t even notice the deft fingers weaving their way into your locks. A gentle tug set your vision back to your computer screen, your eyes saucers at the force at the back of your head. “...You’re not paying very good attention…” came a purr at your ear. Heat bloomed across your back, the solidity of broad, taught muscle pressed firmly against you now. Your wrist was snatched into thick fingers, clasping just hard to keep you still. “T-Touya…” you finally breathed, fighting the feeling of your lungs ceasing to exist, “You’re so close, I–” The sleeve of your dress was pulled down, exposing the skin of your shoulder - the very place a hard kiss would be pressed into. “And I plan to be even closer.” The world seemed to spin in a heated haze, your resolve somewhere in the ethers as your coworker leaped over the boundary of strictly workplace friends. It never occurred to you how he felt, nor did he ever really say anything to let you believe he saw you as anything more than just your coworker. Yet…the fire that scorched the pathway his lips left behind as he traveled up your neck kept you wanting more. You turned now, facing Touya with bitten lips and blushed cheeks, eyes like a doe’s in headlights. The deep turquoise of his striking something hot in your belly against the cool black of his meticulously disheveled locks. Before you knew it, your dress was hiked up above your hips, his hands cupping the rounded cheeks of your ass. Your back is pressed into the cool wood of the office door, the blinds tugged all the way down in lieu of prying eyes. With a mewl diving off the tip of your tongue, you throw your head back, feeling the sinking of teeth into the soft flesh of your neck. Touya’s long loosened the belt of his pants, with them sitting at his ankles as his hips pin your own to the structure holding you up. “I’ve been fucking waiting for this,” his deep growl rolls over your impassioned skin, and with a harsh inhale he slides in, slick and hot between your waiting thighs. Your arms come around his neck, desperately holding on. His rough thrusts spell out a long awaited lust in your heat, and you clasp onto him so tightly as though you’re determined to meld your flesh together permanently. He buries his face in your neck, rough bites and lengthy licks adorning the skin there - an accompaniment to the moans that sing from your lips without regard. “Touyaaaa” you cried out, fingernails mindlessly curling into his black strands. A sharp coiling low in your belly grew with each thrust. Your hips and ass slamming into the thick wood noisily now. Yet you didn’t care - the feeling of you being filled over and over and over was your only mindset now, and your beloved “coworker” made sure that all you could think of was him. His hands readjusted your position slightly, one arm coming to lace around your lower back now while the other planted firmly next to your head.

“That’s it…feels good doesn’t it?” Another thrust deep inside you, all the way down to the base, “You gonna cum soon, princess?...Don’t lie to me now, I can feel you clenching.”

His eyes are low as they watched your face contort in ecstasy, Touya hid his shit eating smirk against your collarbone, rewarding your panting with a long lick hot on your skin. Your lashes snapped shut, his name crescendoing a desperate “TouyaTouyaTouyaaa” now into the empty office. His thrusts pick up speed now, aiming to hit that spot deep within that has you seeing stars - and oh do you ever. With a sudden flash, white hot heat thunders through your whole body, and your voice hits its peak octave at how quickly your climax hits you. Your breathless in his arms, his hips planting firmly against your own when he finds his finish just behind yours - choked gasp wordlessly into a dampened spot above your breast. The scent of sex lingers in the air, but neither of you dare to make a move. You yourself are still in the midst of establishing what all of this means…piecing together a puzzle with which you were left no pieces to begin with. The dynamic has changed, you both knew it. So with all your brevity you found your exhausted voice whisper, “Touya, why didn’t you do this sooner?” 

#Dabi #dabi x reader #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #coworker au #coworkers #dabi smut #x reader

[baura-bear]

HEY POOKIE !!!!! HOW ARE YOU!!! HOPE YOU'RE FEELING BETTER!!! here's some vigilante david javid i wrote for you. it's kind of sloppy but also what david experiences is a big part of the idea in itself sooo!!! also yeah his superhero name is desmodus which I KNOW is lame but its origin is the latin name for vampire bat so. yeah. :3

David groaned, slouching further over his desk, eventually slamming his head on its surface and closing his eyes. He felt miserable.

He was just trying to sketch out some upgrades for his suit (if it could even be called that, considering it was just a normal outfit with a few quirks), and he ended up wallowing in his anxieties.

He straightened his back, running a hand through his hair as he sighed and looked at his room's ceiling, spinning on his chair. He felt miserable and he was a loser. And because he was a loser.

As David looked over at the corkboard above his desk, at the plenty of photos of himself and his friends, mostly Jack, he felt even worse. Because David Jacobs was a sore loser, and Desmodus was a cool badass. And he felt like Jack liked his vigilante persona more than actual David.

It was irrational--they've been friends for pretty much their whole lives, they've been through a lot, and yet, for whatever dumb reason, David was slowly growing sure that Jack didn't like him that much. He felt boring, too boring for Jack.

And it's not like Jack gushed about David's secret persona daily or something, but still, the one-off mentions about how cool he wasbor whatever were enough for David to gradually become paranoid. Plus, on the occasions that he ran into Jack while in disguise, Jack did seem pretty smitten.

How could David not feel miserable? He's been in love with Jack to the point of no return, just for Jack to have a crush on some guy running around in a gas mask? Not just any guy, either, but David. He could only imagine Jack's disappointment until finding out who really was under that mask.

David decided to sleep the sorrow off. He stood up and quickly toppled over to his bed, but of course, instead of actually sleeping, he just started doomscrolling on his phone, watching some stupid videos, anything to turn his brain off for a moment.

Just when his eyelids actually started getting heavy, someone suddenly barged into his room, startling him. He sat up and looked over at whoever was standing in the doorway, and it was Jack. Of course.

"What are you doing here?" David asked, scrunching his eyebrows.

Jack scrunched his eyebrows right back at David, throwing his backpack on the floor already. "What d'you mean? It's Saturday."

"Oh. It is?"

"Yeah."

Right. David forgot that it was Saturday, and as such, he forgot that Jack always came over for the night.

David didn't bother moving, and instead he just moved to the side a little, giving Jack more room, which he quickly occupied by lying down next to his friend.

Jack, hands at the back of his head, sighed contentedly, closing his eyes for a moment as he relaxed. That let David inspect the boy's face, and that was one of his favorite activities ever, even though he memorized everything so well.

"You seem kinda sad," Jack noticed, only now opening his eyes and turning his head to look at David, who didn't stop shamelessly checking Jack out, currently studying the curve of his eyebrows.

David shrugged. He couldn't tell Jack anyway, so he didn't bother.

"Awh, c'mon," Jack ushered, rolling himself closer to David, arms lazily wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer. "What's goin' on, Davey?"

David groaned, shaking his head, refusing to speak, though the embrace was obviously very welcome. He hugged Jack's torso, burying his face in his neck, or rather the fabric of his hoodie, and he closed his eyes.

A couple of seconds passed by like that, Jack patiently waiting, caressing David's back. "So you ain't gonna tell me?" he asked finally, but he didn't move.

"No." A firm answer, and Jack knew better than to pry at it.

"Alright. If you change your mind..." Jack offered still.

"I know." And David also knew, remembered that Jack cared about him. All of a sudden his worries seemed silly in retrospect, and even if just for now, David felt okay. He would offer Jack some leftovers in a minute, but he was silent, wanting to stay like that for a minute or two more.

HAIIIII DAV E!!! I am feeling better in terms of COVID!! Still a little funky in the head though but that’s normal! I hope you’re doing well!!! You’ve been pumping out so much great art??!!!! Writing and drawing included

I’m always so happy when you share with me :’)

David is so silly!!!! Of course Jack likes him silly silly boy (Desmodus is cool because Davey is cool obviously 🙄) hehe I love these two boys so much i wanna see Jack interact with desmodus cause I just know he thinks that’s the coolest shit ever omg

#thank you for sharing it makes me so happy #ftm-megamind #asks

[dystopianvagrant]

NOTIFICATION

TUMBLR USER "dystopianvagrant" HAS FAILED TO MAKE THE DAILY POST QUOTA ACTIVATING TUMBLR.AI AUTO POST FEATURE....

TUMBLR.AI SCANNING BIOCHIP FOR RELEVANT FOOTAGE....

FOOTAGE FOUND POSTING....

The video begins suddenly, in mid-conversation and playing from DV's point of view showing that he was currently serving a tall, lean anthro coyote who seemed clearly aggravated.

"That's bullshit," The coyote growled his knuckles rapping against the counter as he spoke and stared down at the shorter employee with an annoyed glare who returned it with a nonplussed look as he was used to this sort of treatment.

"I'm sorry sir, but the kitchen staff already went home for today and I don't have to training or permission to use the kitchen equipment-" DV began to explain before suddenly being hiked up off the ground, coming face to face with the coyote's muzzle.

"Well if I can't have some gas station grub maybe I'll have some juicy man meat~"

"I mean... are you gonna pay...?"

"Not planning on it drumstick."

"Then yeah.... no."

"Threat to employee detected." A mechanical, female voice emanated out of the speakers hidden up in the corners of the gas station along with holes, large enough to stick an arm into opened up, revealing large metallic tentacles that snapped towards the coyote and wrapped around his torso and pinning his arms to the side, causing DV to fall back down onto his feet as the coyote was hoisted up into the air.

"There's a lot I don't care about the future but as far as weird things go, the mechanical security arms that throw out shitty customers are pretty ni-hgk!" DV had just dusted himself off before another tentacle had jammed itself against the back of his head before sprouting a set of four smaller tentacles to latch onto him tightly. "The fuck!-"

"Threatening customer has shown intention to devour employee unlawfully, using nearest available employee to dispose." The robotic voice stated as the writhing coyote's position was shifted, forcing him to become horizontal to the ground and pointed muzzle first towards DV who's arms was now bound behind his back while her mouth was forced open by a pair of the smaller tentacles pressing down on the hinges of his jaw. As soon as it was open enough the tentacle holding the coyote struck like a viper, forcing him headfirst into DV's gullet, instantly turning the aggressive canine into a whining imprint on the employee's throat before the tentacle shoved him again forcing him hip deep, from then on the employee's unskilled reflexes kicked in causing him to swallow rapidly but weakly causing the coyote's descent to be dragged out, no longer bound by the mechanical limb left him free to squirm and struggle against his fleshy prison as the human's stomach stretched to fit him with surprising ease and caused his shirt to ride up revealing his pale gut to the other customers in line. As soon as the coyote's feet vanished past the employee's lips the limbs binding him released DV allowing him to flop onto the ground with a resounding thud and staying down while panting deeply as his stomach and it's occupant continued to squirm and writhe causing the employee to let out a few small belches despite him trying to keep them in.

"Disposal completed, employee may resume duties."

"I- Ooouurp!... I think I'm gonna need- hic- a break...."

"Acknowledge, commencing 15 minute break."

#ic #long post

[gaypirate]

just some art videos i've found particularly useful

Love Life Drawing

(great channel, chill encouraging vibes, i appreciate that they try to identify topics that are often taught poorly) 2 Beginners INSTANTLY Improve? How to draw what you see (clickbaity title but this is an art exercise that was incredibly helpful as a starting point when i decided to go back to the basics to fill in gaps i'd missed) Train your eye: Easy perspective practice while walking Eye Level - An Essential Perspective Tip for Artists Artist Eye Training: Seeing Light and Shadows in daily life

other channels/more intermediate+ topics

Richard Smitheman: Important Landmarks in Figure Drawing #1 The ASIS (covering the muscles of the torso/hip/pelvis connection point) David Finch: This Simple Line Trick Will Transform Your Comic Art! (alternating curves and straight lines) Ben Eblen: Line work, what I wish I knew moderndayjames: CLOTH AND DRAPERY 1: Cloth, Folds, Junctions, and Armor

#i don't know if youtube just only shows me men fsr or if there's just not many women on youtube making the type of art lessons i want #please rec me women who make art tutorials... #anyway posting this mostly for myself bc all the other lists of links i've made are a mess w/ bunch of stuff on them i've never even watche #and posting it publicly forces me to be tidy about it lmao #gay piracy #about art #also pls lmk if any links don't work #i am very tired #yes i'm doing this instead of drawing

[friendship-showdown]

Friendship Showdown: Preliminary Round #26

Propaganda:

Chihiro Fujisaki and Mondo Owada (Danganrompa): i love them individually and i love their gym buddies dynamic. chihiro really admires him and mondos kind of a women respecter so they are maximum unlikely friendship. they could have been so much if not for the Dangan Ronpa i think they should play video games together.

Jayfeather and Briarlight (Warriors): Jayfeather is a cat doctor, but he's also blind and faces daily ableism from the clan (which is not the greatest idea i mean he's your only medic he can kill you and hide the body why are you making him unhappy??? he also totally has the temperament to kill you and hide the body) and Briarlight is a happy go lucky apprentice until a tree falls on her (long story short) and she finds herself paralysed from the torso (or whatever cats have in that area) down. She thus takes permanent residence in the medicine place and for some 20 books or so becomes the best friend and confident of Jayfeather.

Mika Kagehira and Arashi Narukami (Ensemble Stars): They're very sweet to each other. Mika's uncomfortable around other guys, and Arashi's a trans girl at their otherwise all-boys school, so they're perfect friends. Arashi's very refined and ladylike, while Mika's kind of a feral kitten who's canonically into eroguro, so their aesthetics are opposite, but they're very good friends.

#danganronpa #warriors #ensemble stars

[seacee16]

when petals fall | bangchan

bang chan x original female character

warnings: none

prev chapter

!! FULL STORY ON AO3 !!

epilogue 2 ~ when your heart comes home

~ 1 year later ~

People watching had always been a good way of passing time. Seeing different people with varying traits pass by as they go about their daily lives. Some on their way to work, catching up with friends old and new, or simply trying to make it through the day. Every story hidden beneath the judged cover of each individual person’s exterior. In this sense, all one could do was judge the books by their covers. Unless, they were to ignore the what-if’s of each passing soul and focus on the unique beauty of each and everyone. That is what Sakura did. Sat in the middle of an airport, sketchbook wide open on her lap as she rushed to capture as many faces as she could before they were out of sight. Slowly, her pages filled and she went on to the next. It had been just over an hour since she first made herself comfortable on one of the rows of hard airport seats, her backpack to her left and a pencil mix of different hardness scattered on the open seat to her right. A black pen sat between her teeth; one that she would use to finalize each expression and emphasize shadows.

With a soft puff of air, she finished up the last face on the double page and set it down with the rest of her stationary. Sakura looked over her work, admiring the way her ability to capture people had improved over the months. She had put every ounce of effort into completing her studies, earning grades that she knew would make her father beam from ear to ear while simultaneously scolding her for all of the proper meals and sleep she had skipped. But when things got too busy and the deadlines got closer, the girl allowed herself an hour each day to sit and draw. Whether it was in the university library, or the green quad, or referencing images and videos she found online. Whether it was neatly done with prior planning, or roughly done. All that mattered was that she gave herself some time to forget about her academic stress and regroup her scrambled thoughts. And, after a long year, Sakura had finished.

Now, she sat in the middle New Chitose Airport, ready to begin the newest chapter of her own story.

“You’re really talented,” a voice called out from over her shoulder.

It was mid-thanks that she noticed how familiar the voice sounded. Like warm honey after a long day in the cold. Turning her head, her gaze met the smiling face of a friend.

“Hello, noona.”

“Hyunjin.”

The last syllable of his name got lost in the rush as she leapt from her seat, throwing both arms around the boy made of lead and love letters. He might have chuckled at her enthusiasm, but she couldn’t hear. Sakura was clinging to the back of his blue-grey hoodie like her life depended on it, still unable to believe that he was in front of her. And when his arms wrapped around her torso, she almost let a sob free fall from her lips.

“It’s good to see you too, Sakura.”

His hands never left her, holding onto her upper arms as she pulled away to look him over, her eyes drifting around him as she spoke. Searching. Hoping.

“What are you doing here?”

“Photoshoot. Just me.”

He isn’t here.

The male should have been disappointed to see her deflate at his words, but he couldn’t bring himself to frown. Instead, he pulled her back to his chest, just happy to see her again after so long. And who was she to deny the boy of a hug?

“How have you been?” He asked her, pulling away enough for the two of them to sit down. He set his own bag down with hers, twisting in the seat until he was facing her fully. There was so much he wanted to ask, but that was the best place to start. A smile filled her face.

“I’ve been good. I came back home as soon as my final presentation was over. I’ve been here for two or three months now, spending time with everyone before I had to leave again. But what about you? You were still touring up until a few weeks ago, right? How was it?” Questions just flowed out of her, unable to hold back her curiosity the way Hyunjin had.

The male’s eyes seemed to sparkle more as he told her about their travels. He told her all about the new places they visited. How excited they had all been for their two members when they finally touched down in Australia for the first time since their last tour so many years ago. Luggage mix ups and embarrassing stage moments and a passport that was thought to be missing, only to be found moments before boarding was closed. Sakura could listen to him talk for hours without growing tired of the sound of his voice. It was then that she realized just how much she had missed the idol – well, how much she missed all eight of them, really.

Before he could continue, he paused. Her words replayed in his head, bringing his attention to something she had said in the midst of her rush. “Wait, you said you’re leaving again?”

She nodded shyly. “I am. While I was studying, one of my supervisors put me in contact with a friend of theirs that was keen on having me work for them. They really liked my paper and some of the ideas I proposed to her. So, I’m moving. Permanently this time.” As if on cue, Sakura pulled her vibrating phone out of her pocket, turning off the alarm she had set to keep herself from potentially missing her flight. “I should probably start heading towards the gates.” Grabbing her things, she stood. Hyunjin mirrored her.

“Does he know?” Three words, but she knew exactly what he was asking. Does Chan know that you’re moving? Are you going to tell him?

Sakura shook her head, adjusting the backpack on her shoulders. “He doesn’t. We haven’t spoken much. It didn’t feel right to drop something like that on him so out of the blue.” All he could do was nod. He understood, but that didn’t stop the shift in the atmosphere around them. They had only been speaking for a few minutes. There was more they needed to speak about. Hyunjin didn’t want to part ways with her just yet.

As if sensing the man’s dilemma, Sakura asked, “Walk me to my gate?”

With a sad smile, the dancer nodded.

“Of course.”

<3        <3        <3

“Chan-hyung!”

The leader paused his incomplete track at the muffled sound of his name being called from somewhere outside of the bubble his headphones had dragged him into. Prying himself from the work splayed out on his desk, Chan made his was out to the kitchen where the shout had come from. There, the other Aussie stood with his fists deep in dough. Flour dusted his nose and cheeks, hiding some of his lighter freckles.

“Hyunjin texted. He can’t get in. Said there’s something wrong with the keypad. Can you open up for him, please?” Felix asked, showing off his sticky hands to prove that he was unable to do it himself.

“Sure, Lix.”

Making his way to the door, Chan made a mental note to bring up the broken keypad issue with their manager the next time they saw him. He couldn’t risk any of the kids being locked out of the dorm. Or worse, couldn’t risk anyone else getting in somehow. The thought alone made him shiver. He would get it fixed as soon as possible. When he opened the door, a smiling Hyunjin stood patiently waiting on the other side. Hands full with his bags, the dancer hobbled past his leader, enthusiastic greetings coming from both of them – followed by an eagerly shouted ‘hello’ from the kitchen.

Pushing shut the door, Chan asked, “How was your flight?” He failed to notice the way Hyunjin tensed at the question.

“It was good. Managed to take a short nap too, which is always welcomed.” He began making his way to his bedroom, but stopped before he could disappear from sight. His gaze drifted between his belongings, as if trying to remember something. “Oh,” Hyunjin said, turning back towards Chan, “I think I may have dropped something out in the hall. Could you grab it for me, hyung?”

Chan wanted to groan. He had been in the zone with his music right before Felix called him. On the edge of a breakthrough with his latest track, he wanted to go back to work immediately before the idea could slip from his mind. But he could see the tired bags under Hyunjin’s eyes, knowing well that the boy would want to go right to bed. So, he nodded, offering a light smile before opening the door once more.

It took a single look for Chan to lose all knowledge of any vocabulary he had spent his life memorizing, in both tongue. She looked well, healthy and rested the way he had hoped she was. Her hair was a lighter shade now, closer to caramel compared to the usual cocoa brown he had been so used to. The same height, yet she seemed to have more definition to her arms and face. Her freckles had darkened. So did the rest of her skin. And across the top of one ear was a small titanium rod that definitely hadn’t been there the last time. But one thing remained unchanged. Her eyes. Golden and glowing like a thousand birthed suns. The way she looked at him with impossibly kind eyes, overflowing with every burning emotion known to them. Joy. Comfort. Love.

I love you, he thought.

A million thoughts raced through his mind at the sight of her standing before him. No number of seconds that passed made it seem any more real. She was here. His heart ached, not knowing what to do. At least, that was until their one-man audience decided to voice his thoughts.

“God, hyung, if you don’t kiss her right now, I will. The tension is stinking up the room.”

His words earned him a stern glare from the older male, his gaze following Hyunjin as he left with his hands raised in surrender, but the sly grin on his face didn’t falter. Only when he was way out of sight, did Chan’s expression soften, but his eyes stayed focused at the doorway the younger one had disappeared through. He was scared. What if he looked back and she was gone? What if this was all a dream he would inevitably wake from? Would his mind play a trick so cruel?

“Chan?”

No. Her voice was too clear, too close, too real. What if she was really there? What if he turned and she was still smiling up at him? What if he opened his arms and she ran right into them, feeling whole the way he knew he would? What if-

“I would have told you I was coming, but Hyunjin…” She paused. “I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

No, he thought. Don’t leave. God, move, you idiot. Do something. Anything.

It took everything in her for Sakura to force herself to walk away from him, the sight of his turned frame causing a lump to form in her throat. And the longer she stayed, the further the pain in her chest spread. So, she twisted away. Her steps grew, each stride bigger and quicker than the last until-

A hand wrap around her upper arm, causing her to spin right into someone’s chest. She knew it was him the moment there was contact, when she felt her skin crawl at every point they connected. And then his hands were in her hair, tugging her closer until they shared a single breath. A single heartbeat. She felt his lips against hers and every doubt in her mind slipped away like a leaf in a stream. Her body recognized his touch instantly, both arms reaching up to wrap around his neck as muscle memory kicked in. She could feel his tongue against her bottom lip and his big hands roaming her back, touching every inch. She couldn’t breathe, but not even the burn in her lungs could pull her away from him. Because if she were in his arms like this, suffocating with his tall frame cocooned around her own and him stealing the very air from her lungs, she would die happy. So, she let him kiss her. Longer, rougher, sweeter. Until his hands finally stilled and his lips reluctantly separated from hers. Behind her shut eyes, the world was dark, but every nerve ending in her body was alive. Her hands slid over his broad shoulders and down his chest, resting in the space between their racing hearts. Sakura felt the tip of his nose brush against hers, and then against her cheek as he kissed her again. Once. Twice. And this time, when he pulled away, she opened her eyes. Chan lifted a hand to cup her face, his thumb rubbing the reddening skin of her freckled cheek as he stared down at her.

“You’re here.” It was the first words he had spoken, and the sound of his voice alone hand her crumbling in the palm of his hand. It was so gentle, so sure.

“I’m here,” Sakura managed to whisper back, feeling the steady thumping of his heart beneath her fingertips. “Hi.”

Chan laughed, his hold on her waist tightened. “Hello, petal.” The way that her smile widened was enough to make his mind go completely blank. It was contagious, and soon his face mirrored hers.

“Surprised?”

“More like afraid that I’ll wake up.”

“This isn’t a dream.”

“That’s exactly what someone in a dream would say.”

She smirked. “Should I pinch you?”

“I’d rather just kiss you again, honestly.”

Wanting to feel her smile against his again, he leaned in to kiss her. However, voices were heard from the corridor, warning the pair of the swarm of members that would likely intrude any moment now. So, with his arms secured around her waist, Chan lifted her up and dashed towards his room. Her giggled flooded his ears as she tightened her hold on him to stop herself from falling, her legs wrapping around his waist for extra grip. As soon as his door had closed behind them, the male lowered both of them to his bed.

With his face buried in her neck, he whispered, “I can’t believe you’re here.” The feeling of his lips against her skin made her shiver, more so when he pressed a kiss to the tissue pulsing over her jugular. She felt Chan’s hand slide up and down the side of her waist, bunching up the material of her sweatshirt as he did.

“I missed you,” she admitted. The male pulled away, resting his weight on his arms as he looked down at her. Her hair was splayed around her messily and there was a sad glint in her eyes. He frowned. “So much, Chan. There were so many times that I wanted nothing more than to drop everything and come back. I thought about knocking on your door and being in your arms again and immediately feeling like everything was going to be okay.”

“My sweet petal,” he hummed, brushing the hair out of her face. He bent forward, kissing each of her cheeks softly, with a final stop at her lips. It was a quick kiss, but pulled away felt like fighting against a riptide. “You worked too hard for that spot to drop it so easily. And I missed you too, every day,” he told her. “But I am so proud of you for staying and finishing what you started. You did so well, I just know it, Sakura.”

A small involuntary whimper fell from her trembling lips. In one motion, Chan scooped her up in his arms and rolled the pair over so that she was laying comfortably on his chest. His arms enclosed around her frame, lightly pressing her head into the nook of his neck as he ran one hand through her hair.

They had all of two seconds to themselves before the door to Chan’s room burst open and Jisung stormed in with a pout on his face. The lack of surprise on his face at the sight of Sakura curled up in his leader’s arms proved that Hyunjin had told the rest of them about her arrival. He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring daggers at the eldest, who just groaned, not very pleased to have been interrupted.

“Hyung! You can’t keep Sakura-noona from us!”

Chan’s arms only tightened around her, re-enforcing his hold. He was not let go of her any time soon. The leader buried his face in her neck as she tried looking up at the other rapper. She couldn’t help but smile at him, glad to see his full cheeks and happy eyes again.

Sticking out his tongue in Jisung’s direction, Chan stated, “I can and I will. She’s mine.”

The younger huffed. “Unfair! Last week, when I didn’t want to give you half of my donut, you said I had to because sharing is caring!”

Chan pretended to think, his exaggerated expression causing the girl in his arms to giggle against his chest. “Hmm, I don’t recall that happening. Do you have any evidence to support your claim, Han?”

At the door, a crowd of six others had formed, each one smiling at the scene unfolding before them. “If that’s the case, don’t expect me to share my brownies with you next time, Chan-hyung,” the other Aussie said as he joined the group. Now it was Chan’s turn to pout, pure betrayal in his eyes.

Still tightly bundled in his arms, Sakura’s words were muffled against the material of the man’s clothing. Chan reluctantly loosened his grip on her so that she could speak freely. Lifting her head towards the door, Sakura said, “Come here, Sungie.”

There was nothing the leader could do but watch as his first kid rushed forward and plopped down comfortably into Sakura’s arms, knocking her back slightly. However, she was happy enough to just be hugging the younger boy again. He was warm and oozing with excitement, practically purring as she ran her hand through his hair.

“You’ve gotten so big, Ji,” she told him, still smiling down at the boy.

After one last squeeze around her waist, he sat up on his knees so that she could see him fully. It was clear as day that he had grown in size, his shoulders looking wider and stronger than they had when they last saw one another. He had the same kind eyes and goofy smile, but his newly dark hair made him look older than he was. More mature. More handsome.

Sporting a smooth grin, Jisung lifted one arm and flexed proudly. With a blush to her cheeks, she adverted her eyes before the jealous male behind her noticed her stare.

“I’m almost as big as Chan-hyung now,” he stated confidently.

Sakura smirked. Briefly eyeing the older male behind her, she cooed, “Oh, really now?”

She reached forward as if to touch Jisung’s pronounced bicep, only to be tugged backward into Chan’s steady chest before she could get close enough to feel. Two arms secured themselves tightly around her, pinning both arms to her own chest, preventing her from reaching out a second time. Now laying with her back flush against his chest, Sakura could feel a low rubble from behind her, his eyes no doubt piercing the younger.

“Thin ice, Jisung,” he warned, arms rewrapping around her waist.

Sakura couldn’t help but laugh at the way Jisung’s bottom lip stuck out. Twisting until she was more comfortable, the girl curled up against Chan’s chest tiredly. It took a single look at her for their leader’s entire stern persona to evaporate, leaving behind a loving gaze. He let his hand brush gently against her cheek and up the back of her neck. The action caused her to nuzzle deeper into his comfort.

“I’m going to leave before I throw up,” Seungmin teased with a gag before marching out, the rest of the group close behind them, but not before Sakura promised Jisung a movie to make up for Chan hogging her. The idea caused him to smile, holding up a pinky before closing the door behind him.

Alone once more, Sakura tilted her head up to look at Chan, who was already watching her with hearts in his eyes. She smiled a loopy smile.

“Jealous, Mr Bang?” Sakura asked, staring up at him with tired eyes. They shut as he leaned down to place a tender kiss to her forehead, and in return, she pressed a kiss to each dimple. An action that made him purr.

“Immensely.”

“I love you,” she whispered up to him.

"I love you, petal. In every orbit."

____________________________

and that is a wrap on 'when petals fall' !!

this may just be another piece of fanfiction to some people, but over the two years that it took for me to piece this together, I went through some dark times. my experiences became Sakura's, and as she healed, so did I. stray kids have been a great comfort to me - and sooo many others - over the years, and I only hope that stays are always able to bring them that same feeling of comfort.

idk if I'll end up posting more stories on here, but I hope everyone who reads this enjoyed the story. I am in no way a professional writer and I am a south african who has never been to Japan or Korea, so there are likely many errors and inaccuracies throughout the story. please be kind if you spot any.

anyway, thank you for reading, and I hope you all continue to love and support stray kids.

may the weight of your skies always be light.

love, AC

#angst #bang chan #changbin #comfort #fluff #han jisung #hyunjin #i.n #lee felix #lee know #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #kim seungmin #seungmin #fanfic #you make stray kids stay #skz stay #stray kids #Spotify