#chat plays a game of cat and mouse

[bueckets]

The Hit List | Part 1

Pairing: fuckgirl!Paige x Mechi Student!reader

Masterlist (TBA) | Part 2

Genre: romance (eventually), slow burn, enemies to lovers, kinda funny?, smut (eventually), cat n mouse

Description: When an overworked engineering student's late-night CAD project gets interrupted by a very drunk, very lost basketball star stumbling into the wrong dorm room, she learns that some defensive plays work better in love than on the court.

What starts as a case of mistaken identity turns into an unexpected game of cat and mouse when UConn's golden girl, Paige Bueckers, can't seem to take a hint– or maybe just doesn't want to. Armed with nothing but sarcasm, an overprotective stuffed bear named Mr. Gummy, and a borrowed team jacket that definitely isn't helping the situation, our engineering hero finds herself drawing up plays to defend her heart against college basketball's most persistent point guard.

They say offense wins games, but defense wins championships. When you're trying not to fall for a girl who treats the court like her kingdom and your personal space like a suggestion, maybe it's time to admit some battles aren't meant to be won.

WC: 11.2k

Authors Notes: i had first written this for jkxreader on my other blog (whoretan) however plot deviates heavily after the first encounter, um, kinda fuck girly paige, but kind of just a love drunk idiot too

Chapter 1: The Unexpected Guest

Your eyes burned as you stared at the CAD model rotating on your screen, the internal combustion engine you'd been working on for the past—what was it now, eight hours?—still refusing to cooperate.

The familiar workspace of SOLIDWORKS had become both your best friend and worst enemy over the past three years at UConn, but tonight it felt particularly vindictive. You'd been trying to get the timing belt assembly to properly mate with the crankshaft for what felt like an eternity, and your deadline was creeping closer by the minute.

"Did you hear?" Riven's voice cut through your concentration as she burst through the door, her designer backpack hitting her bed with enough force to make your desk lamp wobble.

"Hear what?" You didn't bother turning around, instead zooming in on the problematic area of your model. The project was due in six hours, and you were nowhere near having it stress-tested. Sleep was starting to feel like a distant memory from another life.

Riven paused in her tracks—you could practically hear her jaw dropping in that dramatic way she'd perfected since freshman year. "Paige Bueckers was talking about how Q’s jump shot is worse than a middle schooler's."

The absurdity of the statement finally forced you to tear your eyes away from the screen. Your neck cracked in protest as you turned to face your roommate, who stood there with her perfectly manicured hands on her hips, waiting for your reaction. Three years of living together had taught you that Riven wouldn't let you focus until you properly acknowledged whatever piece of gossip she'd brought home.

“That’s literally ridiculous.”

Riven tilted her head, eyes rolling toward the ceiling in that characteristic way of hers. Six seconds of contemplation later (you’d learned to count), she shrugged and pulled out her iPhone, probably to text the women's basketball group chat about the latest drama.

Your roommate, much like all the other Huskies superfans, didn't care whose reputation a particular player tarnished. She'd much rather get on their good side, damaged reputations or not. It was a dance you'd watched play out countless times since freshman year, when you'd first been assigned as roommates.

Back then, you'd thought the random housing assignment would be a disaster—the sports-obsessed sorority girl and the robotics team president seemed like a recipe for mutual hatred. But somehow, your differences had created a strange balance. She dragged you out of your engineering cave occasionally, and you reminded her that there was more to college than chasing after basketball stars.

"Caitlin bought Kate those new custom Nikes." Riven thrust her phone in your face, revealing a photo of Clark's teammate happily posing with pristine white sneakers. The caption read, 'Thanks for the gift bb, @CaitlinClark22'.

You squinted at the screen, trying not to think about how those shoes probably cost more than your entire semester's textbooks. The basketball elite weren't just known for their court skills—their NIL deals were equally legendary. Every starter came from successful programs, the kind that built training facilities and had courts named after their alumni.

"What a lucky bitch," Riven sighed, flopping onto her bed.

Apparently, your roommate wasn't the only one who didn't care for her reputation. Last week, she'd blown up your phone with about thirty—maybe sixty—texts about how her sorority sister had seen Caitlin making out with someone else at The Tavern. Looks like those custom Nikes must've been an apology.

You looked up at your starstruck roommate with pursed lips. Riven caught your expression and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, she's being messy. So what? Those shoes are like two thousand dollars with the custom work, that's my fucking meal plan right there."

"Remind me again how you're a neurology student?"

Riven clutched her chest with an open hand, gasping dramatically. "Wow. I see how it is." She threw herself backward onto her bed with the theatrical flair of a soap opera star.

You couldn't help but grin, even as your eyes darted back to your computer screen. The smile quickly died on your lips.

Oh fuck.

The CAD model still sat there, mocking you with its incomplete state. You'd managed to complete maybe forty percent of the assembly, and the entire thing needed to be fully rigged and stress-analyzed by nine AM.

This was the cost of your procrastination, another dinner sacrificed to the gods of engineering deadlines. At least you had a good excuse this time: you'd spent the weekend helping the robotics team prepare for their upcoming competition. Being vice president meant putting in the extra hours, even if it meant cramming your actual coursework into impossible timeframes.

"I have to finish this tonight. Do not bother me with any more basketball drama." You spun your chair back to face your screen, not bothering to check if Riven was sticking her tongue out at you. You could picture it anyway, she had the maturity of a twelve-year-old sometimes.

Five and a half hours later, you finally pressed the glorious 'Submit' button on Blackboard. You turned off your PC with such violence that the desktop nearly toppled over.

"Never doing that again," you groaned, slumping into your chair and letting your head fall back against the cushion. Your neck felt like it had been replaced with concrete somewhere around hour six.

"You literally say that every time," Riven quipped from her side of the room.

If you had any energy left, you would've gotten up and punched her in the ass. Luckily for her, your eyes had started doing that thing where they drooped shut every few seconds without your permission. You'd decided about thirty minutes ago that your chair was an acceptable substitute for a bed. The walk to your actual mattress seemed about as feasible as climbing Mount Everest right now.

"How do I look? Good enough for the party?"

Fucking hell. 

You summoned what little remained of your core strength and groaned as you forced your chair to swivel around. The sight that greeted you was, admittedly, impressive, even through your exhaustion-blurred vision.

Riven wore a black dress that hit just above her knees, with strategic cutouts along her ribs. The laced-up black heels she'd spent twenty minutes struggling with (while whining very fucking loudly) completed the look perfectly. She'd devoted the last hour of your project completion marathon to preparing for KK’s birthday celebration.

“Which party?” you croaked. “The one where everyone’s fighting or the one where they’re pretending nothing happened?”

Her nose wrinkled in that way it did when she was trying not to laugh. "You're so annoying."

Yeeeaaah, definitely the messy one.

You watched as Riven stumbled toward her drawer, rummaging through three compartments before pulling out a neon orange tiny bag. And when you say tiny, you mean tiny, it couldn't have been more than two inches across.

"Can you even fit anything in there?"

A wicked smile spread across her face as she opened the toy purse, pulling out her student ID and a tube of lipstick. Of-fucking-course. “Minimalist chic, baby. Besides, I don’t need much. Just the essentials. I'm serious. Tonight's gonna be fucking legendary."

“Legendary,” you deadpanned, swiveling your chair back to your desk. “Try not to end up on Barstool again.”

You swore she lunged forward, ready to attack you with her miniature weapon. But her phone rang, which happened to be a far more pressing matter. The assault could wait. Riven pressed the phone to her ear with a smile that would have made the Cheshire Cat proud.

"Are you here? Yeah, I'm ready. You have the Pink Whitney? Okay. Bye."

She turned back to you with that same manic grin. "I'll get you back for that later. Bye!"

And just like that, Riven leaped out of the room, her neon orange bag and its singular tube of lipstick disappearing with her into whatever chaos awaited at the UConn house.

The sudden silence in her wake felt almost oppressive. You sat there for a moment, contemplating your life choices. The clean lines and precise measurements of your engineering models never gave you this much drama. Maybe that's why you preferred spending your nights with SOLIDWORKS instead of at parties—machines were predictable, logical, and they never started drama about anyone's jump shot.

After nearly crawling your way across the room for what felt like thirty minutes (but was probably closer to five), you finally made it to your bed. Or rather, to the base of your bed. The problem now was getting on top of it. UConn, in its infinite wisdom, had given everyone the tallest fucking beds in existence.

Tall enough that all of your belongings fit underneath it so they could make the rooms ten times smaller by doing so. You sat on your ass, glaring at what felt like a sixteen-foot space between you and the mattress. You could, theoretically, just fucking get up and with one last surge of energy jump onto it. But the soft cotton of your fuzzy rug was suddenly hugging your back, tucking you in, cradling you like a loving parent.

Fuck it, the floor isn't even that bad. You've slept on much worse—like that one time freshman year when you passed out in the robotics lab after a forty-eight-hour building session. At least your rug didn't smell like motor oil and desperation.

Your head lay flat on the floor, the hardwood never felt softer. Riven had left hours ago, and you'd managed to successfully knock out on your chair for a bit. That was until you jolted awake, sweating out of every crevice of your body, and made eye contact with your actual bed. You'd said goodbye to the chair and began the voyage to your proper sleeping place. Clearly, that wasn't going as planned.

It was too late now to dwell on what could've been. Tomorrow, you'd start anew. Just like every time she partied, Riven wouldn't be back for two or three days. You'd have a full day to sleep on your actual bed without the mention of UConn and internal combustion engines.

You turned to your side, the fuzz tickling your chin as you nuzzled into it. Sleep was just starting to creep in when—

"Taylor! Tay baby, please open the door!"

The hairs on your arms rose and a fart you hadn't realized you'd been holding in released into the air. Some drunk player had the wrong door.

“Wrong room,” you called, hoping they’d get the hint. With a shaky breath, you nuzzled deeper into the carpet.

Not a second later, a bang erupted through your room. "Tay, please. I'm so sorry. I fucked up."

Your heart thrashed in your chest. Could you not have one night of peace? One night of tranquility to enjoy your own company? One night to enjoy sleeping on the hard floor?

"Taylor, for fuckssake." The asshole nearly knocked the fucking door off the hinges.

First, you're going to knock her the hell out. Then, you'll find out where Taylor lives and knock her out, too. Maybe you could work it into your next robotics project—a robot specifically designed to punch drunk athletes who can't read room numbers.

"Tay, please—"

You jolted upward and ran to the door so fast you probably broke several laws of physics. Swinging the wooden panel open like a madwoman, you yelled, "Listen asshole, I don't know who Taylor is and I don't give a damn. It's late as hell and some of us actually enjoy sleeping!"

Said asshole leaned against the door frame of your room, a Nike-covered foot tapping against the floor as she pressed a finger to your lips. "Shhhhh, baby, I said I'm sorry."

Your throat locked and you nearly laughed at the audacity. Did this fucker really not notice you weren't Taylor? Through your sleep-deprived haze, you managed to register a few details about the intruder: tall, athletic build that made your mouth go dry, honey-blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders, and wearing what looked like exclusive UConn team gear. Great. A drunk basketball star. 

Said basketball star happened to also push herself off the door frame and trudge past you, right into your room as if she'd been there a million times.

Much like you wanted to before your carpet trapped you, the stranger leaped onto your bed, stomach flopping onto the cushion of your mattress. She muttered something you couldn't hear as she grabbed your favorite pillow and brought it close to her chest. She was snuggling your Mr. Gummy.

You were going to go to jail for assaulting a Division I athlete. Yeah. This was the end of your girl boss engineering career. Goodbye feminist STEM icon. Hello convict. All those years of suffering to get into UConn just for you to catch a case over the Greek Goddess, Nike, herself. At least you'd submitted your project first, might as well get credit for that before you went to prison.

"Babe, I don't remember your bed smelling this good." She'd gone into a fetal position, kicking off her—yep, definitely team-exclusive Nikes. Maybe, just maybe, you'd knock her out and then sell her shoes on StockX. The proceeds could cover your legal defense.

You rubbed your forehead with the back of your palm, wiping away the stress sweat that had accumulated. You swung your head out of your door, looking left and right, then repeat. Empty. Fuck. Fuck, and fuck.

You paced back and forth a few times, biting on the edge of your hand. You can't pick this goddess off your bed. One, she's drunk as hell. Two, she's... You gazed back at the stranger, somewhere on her journey to your bed she'd tossed her UConn warmup jacket to your floor. Leaving her in a fitted tank top that left nothing to the imagination.

Who needs that many shoulder muscles? The definition in the arm that hugged Mr. Gummy was sculpted by years of perfect jump shots. Each shift of her body revealed new curves, like a living Nike ad designed specifically to torment sleep-deprived engineering students.

Holy hell. Get a fucking grip.

Okay, so you can't drag the basketball star off your bed.

Plan B it is.

You trudged into your room, taking one last look at the hallway. Should you close the door?

If someone did hypothetically walk past would they think you drugged her? She was slurring her words and hugging your favorite bear while you paced back and forth like you happened to "accidentally" slip something into her Gatorade.

You closed the door.

You needed to call Riven. You could care less that she was at the beginning of her three-day rager, you weren't going to wait till the next morning when Nike would wake up and start accusing you of kidnapping UConn's star point guard.

You slowly walked toward your desk, making sure to avoid the panels on the floor that creaked every time someone stepped on them. Empty. You pushed your chair back to see if it happened to fall earlier. Empty.

The air stilled, and you shook your head. No. No. She was laying on it.

You'd chucked your phone onto your bed after deciding to finally start your project. You had to call Riven. There was no other choice but to tell someone. And given the fact that your contact list included your parents and Riven, she was looking like the most optimal candidate.

As silently as you could, you tip-toed toward your bed and did a quick examination. Near her head? Nope. Mr. Gummy? Nope. Legs? Nope. Hip?

Yeah.

Maybe you would go to jail after all, for assault.

You better get an A on that fucking project.

You took a step forward, awkwardly climbing the edge of your bed to get closer to your phone. Which was nicely tucked right under the curve of her ass, your camera barely peeking out as if it was taunting you.

Shit. How are you going to pull it out?

Your face contorted as you inched closer to the basketball player, thumb and middle finger clutching the edges of your phone and lightly tugging backward. She huffed out a soft groan. Dear god.

It's not budging.

In and out. Breathe.

You tugged again.

Something thudded against the floor.

Your eyes left the phone and gazed to the floor where your Mr. Gummy lay sacrificed to the floor demons. Uh oh.

You turned back to retrieve your bear when your eyes locked with hers. Her very open eyes.

She was smiling.

"Baby I didn't know you were so handsy."

You stared. That's all you could manage to do—stare at the face of the beautiful drunk idiot in front of you. And holy shit was she beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made you question if UConn's recruitment standards included a mandatory photogenic quota for certain players.

The idiot had a playful smile playing across her stupidly perfect face. Taylor must be a lucky girl. Not lucky enough, though, considering her girlfriend was currently in a stranger's bed. How drunk did someone have to be to not recognize they had the wrong person?

"C'mere," she grabbed your arm, pulling you to your side as if you weighed nothing. A strong arm locked around your waist and began rubbing circles on your stomach. The motion sent shivers down your spine that you desperately tried to ignore.

"Missed you, n' I'm sorry baby," she slurred into your ear. Her voice was much softer now, a warm whisper that made your whole body tingle.

Taylor, I'm so sorry.

The words shot straight between your legs. You hadn't been touched in almost two years. Sue me. A gorgeous basketball star was rubbing your lower stomach while she told you—her girlfriend—she missed her. This had to be some kind of cosmic joke. You spend three years avoiding athlete drama, and now the universe deposits one directly into your bed?

You needed your phone. Pronto.

"Listen— I—" You raised a clammy hand to lift her, attempting to wrap your fingers around her wrist to lift it. Your engineering brain was trying to calculate the exact force required to remove her arm without waking her up further, but all mathematical ability seemed to have short-circuited.

"You're so squirmy tonight," she intertwined your fingers.

What the fuck are you supposed to do? You inched your body further away in an attempt to shrug her off. A move that, in retrospect, was about as well-thought-out as trying to integrate calculus while drunk.

Nike thought otherwise. She pulled you closer until her front was pressed firmly against your back, her breath warm against your neck. You could feel the defined muscles of her stomach through her tank top, her body radiating heat that made your head spin.

FUCK.

You'll wake up with a gay panic and a warrant.

"I'm really tired," you squirmed against the death grip around your waist. For someone supposedly blackout drunk, she had the grip strength of someone who'd spent their life fighting through double teams.

Just pretend it's not there. You do not feel anything. Just toned arms and her—

"G'to bed baby. I'll make it up— make it up to you n' the morning." Nike lifted herself to place one last sleepy kiss against your cheek.

Two minutes later, Nike’s light snores vibrated against the back of your neck, warm breath caressing your skin. You wouldn't be able to move her off you. You had no clue where your phone was. Her hip could very well have fully consumed it at this point, creating some kind of phone-eating black hole that physics hadn't yet discovered.

With a sigh, you closed your eyes, pretended there wasn't a Division I basketball star sleeping in your bed, and prayed that you wouldn't end up in some viral TikTok before noon. At least if you did become internet famous, you'd already submitted that goddamn CAD project.

Your last thought before drifting off was that Mr. Gummy better not tell anyone about this.

"OH MY GOD! WHAT THE HELL!"

Are you being robbed? Is someone being murdered? You jolted upwards to see Riven staring at you with an open mouth, her perfectly applied makeup from last night now resembling a raccoon's Halloween costume.

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of sleep. What's her problem?

She pointed to your bed and you turned your body to the side. Oh.

Oh.

Nike was rapidly blinking, those unfairly long eyelashes fluttering as she was most likely realizing you were not Taylor. The morning light streaming through your window illuminated her features in a way that should be illegal before coffee.

You laughed nervously, hands flailing in front of you like a malfunctioning windmill. "It's not what it looks like."

"Why is Paige Bueckers in your bed?"

Paige Bueckers? The same UConn Basketball Star Paige Bueckers? No fucking way.

This Paige had cuddled Mr. Gummy half of the night before opting to trap you in the bed with her. There was no chance that this was the same Paige Bueckers that had NIL deals with Nike and Gatorade and had laid waste to half the NCAA. 

Paige—definitely Paige—groaned beside you, hands rubbing her face. "Taylor's going to kill me," she mumbled underneath her breath.

"No, we— we didn't. We." You pointed between yourself and Paige, your brain short-circuiting like a poorly wired circuit board.

"Listen, sweetie, I'm sure it was the time of your life, but this was a one-time thing." Her voice had that practiced smoothness of someone who'd given this speech before, probably more times than the number of equations in your thermodynamics textbook.

Your eyes bulged out of their sockets. Was she serious? Did she think you two—? And she was okay with it? Now, this fits the description perfectly of the cocky superstar Paige Bueckers was known to be. 

Your face burned hotter than an overclocked processor. "We did not have sex. You came in here drunk off your ass screaming about your girlfriend."

By the time the word girlfriend left your mouth, Paige Bueckers had already jumped off your bed with the agility of someone who definitely wasn't as hungover as she should be. She snatched up her UConn warmup jacket from your floor and was halfway down the hallway before you could blink.

What an arrogant little asshole. Your muscles quivered with the urge to strangle her. That is if you ever saw her again. Which, given your luck and UConn’s campus, was probably inevitable.

"How long have you and Paige been seeing each other?" The empty spot beside you filled with Riven's weight. "Is that why you never wanted to come to the games with me?"

"Riven, you have five seconds to get off of my bed before I strangle you."

"You can't avoid this conversation forever!" she called out as you stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door with perhaps more force than necessary.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you tried to process the reality that you'd just spent the night cuddled up with Paige fucking Bueckers. The same player whose name had been carved into the unofficial NCAA hierarchy since before orientation. 

You splashed cold water on your face, trying to wash away the memory of how her arms had felt around you, how her breath had tickled your neck, how her—

No. Absolutely not. You were not going to join the ranks of college students who'd lost their minds over a basketball star. You had bigger things to worry about. Like whether your CAD project had uploaded properly. Or if you could ever look at Mr. Gummy the same way again.

The next few days passed in a blur of classes, labs, and actively avoiding any location where you might run into Paige. You'd even skipped Tuesday's Engineering Club meeting, sending your vice president a detailed email about needing to catch up on work. It wasn't entirely a lie—you did have work to catch up on, considering you'd spent half your study time calculating alternate routes to class that avoided the usual athlete hangouts.

But by Thursday afternoon, your luck ran out. The library was supposed to be safe—the one place on campus where the basketball players rarely ventured. They had their own private study rooms in the athletic center, after all. Which is why you'd let your guard down, settling into your favorite spot near the engineering section to catch up on your reading.

The peaceful atmosphere was shattered by two girls settling at the table across from you, their whispered conversation carrying clearly in the quiet space.

"So yeah, I like totally made out with Paige in the team room. We almost knocked over Coach's whiteboard, isn't that hilarious?" The prettier of the two said as she placed her MacBook on the wooden table, her voice carrying that forced casualness of someone trying very hard to seem unbothered.

Her friend laughed and took a sip of her Starbucks, a lemonade, probably sugar-free, because of course it was. "So how was it?"

Paige's latest conquest giggled and opened her laptop, trying to seem as uninterested in the conversation as possible. You'd seen this play before, the carefully crafted nonchalance that masked the inevitable disappointment when Paige moved on to her next target. You'd bet your entire scholarship that she'd gone home crying after being ghosted, only to watch Paige pretend she didn't exist the next day.

By this point, you'd given up all pretense of studying chemical processes and electron movement. You'd reread the same paragraph in your textbook sixteen times, your brain more interested in this glimpse into the life of your unexpected bedmate. So what if you're being nosy? Everyone is nosy, and besides, you'd mentally checked out the moment these two sat down.

"She's such a good kisser.” Her friend's mouth dropped open as she placed her half-empty cup onto the table, grabbing her friend's shoulder with one hand. The former nodded, still giggling, "Sarah, I know. She like totally picked me up against the whiteboard."

Are they not aware that people can hear them? That they're in a public space? You glanced around the library, which was half-empty as usual. So maybe you were the only one eavesdropping. Still, you wouldn't go around a library of all places announcing your hookups to the world.

"Hey buttercup," an eerily familiar voice purred in your ear.

You jolted, arms flailing like a malfunctioning robot, inevitably colliding with your pencil case and sending its contents scattering across the floor. Various writing implements rolled under nearby tables like they were making a break for freedom.

You turned to lock eyes with a very, very familiar pair of hazel eyes. Shit.

"Do I know you?" You asked through gritted teeth, trying to ignore how good she looked in her fitted Nike training gear. The amount of exclusive team merchandise on her body probably equaled your entire semester's expenses.

Why would Paige, of all people, be looking for you? If you remembered correctly, she was the one to so diligently inform you that whatever happened was a one-time thing—even though nothing had actually happened.

Paige's eyes crinkled at the corners as her lips tugged upward into that infamous smirk. She leaned forward, resting one hand on the edge of the table, the other on the back of your chair, effectively caging you in. "Don't play dumb."

She was in your bubble. Way too close for comfort, especially since you'd been planning on never having to interact with her again. You groaned and leaned backward, roughly pushing your chair back to give yourself space to lean over and pick up your scattered pens. The move was partly practical and partly designed to annoy her.

"Listen, if it was up to me, I wouldn't be here either." Paige grabbed the chair to your left and pushed it closer to you, dropping into it with that natural athlete's grace. "I've been to your room every day since Sunday and you haven't been there once."

Welp. Why the hell would she be looking for you?

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware I was supposed to be waiting in my room for you." You shoved the pens back into your pencil case, gripping the zipper and tugging it closed with perhaps more force than necessary. Looks like the library was no longer a safe haven.

"I lost my phone and you're the only person I remember being with that night," Paige groaned, turning her head.

Does she truly remember that night? Remember that you two didn't actually hook up but instead cuddled? You wanted to convulse at the memory of how safe and warm you'd felt in her arms. How right it had—no. Absolutely not.

"Oh fuck," she mumbled, her expression shifting from annoyed to something closer to panic.

Your eyes followed her gaze to see what had caused this reaction.

Ha. Ha. Ha. In your face, superstar. You couldn't help but grin as you realized the two girls were still very much present. Not only present but staring at you and Paige with expressions that suggested their jaws might actually detach and hit the table.

Paige leaned back in her chair, sending them a small wave and a—was that a wink? Your eyes nearly rolled directly out of their sockets. How much more predictable could she get?

You didn't bother to look back at the two girls to see their reaction. You could guess it anyway—probably swooning in their chairs, maybe even planning their own strategic "accidental" encounters with her. You wouldn't be surprised if they were already planning to show up at her next practice session.

"Anyways," Paige turned back to you, her voice dropping to that low register that definitely didn't do things to your insides, "Have you seen it?"

You shook your head, closing your textbook. Time to get the hell out of here. "No, I haven't. Sorry."

"Are you mad about what I said? Is that why you're holding my precious phone hostage?" Paige's hand shot out to land on top of your textbook, preventing you from shoving it in your bag—or directly at her stupid, perfect face.

"Mad about what exactly?" You grabbed her hand and tried to shove it off the textbook. She didn't budge. Of course she didn't, you'd seen her arms during all those ESPN highlights Riven forced you to watch. "I do not have your phone."

Within seconds, Paige's hand slid off the textbook only to trap your hand against it instead. She moved to the edge of her chair and leaned forward until her lips were at the shell of your ear. Her warm breath hit your skin and you had to resist the urge to squirm. "About what I said in front of your roommate, sweetie."

Your blood ran cold. Does she think you give two shits about what she said in front of Riven? That she made your roommate think you two were secretly hooking up and that she would undoubtedly eventually let it slip to her sorority sisters? Who will tell the rest of campus? No. Not. At. All.

Asshole. She's a no-good little asshole with too many NIL deals and too little accountability.

You turned your head to face her, ignoring the fact that you were now inches apart. If you weren't so pissed you might've paused to appreciate how her eyes looked up close, how they seemed to hold more mischief than all the troublemakers in Cambridge combined. But now wasn't the time for character studies.

You held her gaze, noting the slight knit in her brow that suggested she wasn't as confident as she was pretending to be. "Listen here Bueckers, whether or not you want to keep pretending like we hooked up or not is none of my business. I do not have your fucking phone, and if I did I would've thrown that shit into the Charles River by now."

You yanked your hand away from her grasp and turned back to your desk. You managed to successfully toss your textbook into your bag and rise from your chair without another word from her.

Before making your very dramatic exit, you turned to face her one last time. Might as well make it grand.

Paige hadn't moved an inch since you'd stood up. She stared at you with a raised brow and that infuriating smirk tugging at her lips. She found this amusing? Found humiliating you in the library a good pastime?

You bent over your chair, placing one hand on her shoulder and leaning in until you were at the shell of her ear. She stiffened under your touch, and you felt a small thrill of satisfaction. What the fuck are you doing?

You leaned in further, so close that your chest pressed flat against your arm and her body. So close that your lips actually grazed her ear as you whispered, with all the venom you could muster, “This might work on your little groupies, but, I’m not interested.” 

The last thing you saw as you straightened up and walked away was the shocked expression on her face, like she couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Good. Let her be confused for once.

You managed to make it all the way to the library exit before your hands started shaking. What the hell had gotten into you? You'd just essentially declared war on one of the most prominent athletes at UConn. The star player who could probably get you banned from every sports event without blinking.

But as you pushed through the heavy doors into the crisp fall air, you couldn't bring yourself to regret it. Maybe it was time someone stood up to the mighty Paige Bueckers. Someone who didn't want anything from her except for her to leave them alone.

Your muscles were still tense from your library encounter as you trudged up the stairs to your dorm room. The familiar hallway felt longer than usual, probably because every step reminded you of how spectacularly you'd just antagonized UConn's star player. At least you'd managed to get through your thermodynamics lab without dwelling too much on the way Paige's face had dropped when you'd—

No. Stop fucking thinking about it.

You fumbled with your key card, missing the reader twice before finally getting the door open. The first thing you noticed was an envelope on the floor, likely slipped under your door while you were in class. You bent down to pick it up, ready to toss it in the recycling with all the other campus spam, when Riven's voice cut through the room.

"What's that?"

You jumped, nearly dropping the envelope. Your roommate was sprawled across her bed, still in her scrubs from her hospital rotation. She must have gotten back early.

"Nothing," you muttered, but it was too late. Riven had already launched herself off her bed with surprising agility for someone who'd just finished a twelve-hour shift.

"Oh my god," she squealed, snatching the envelope from your hands before you could protest. "These are courtside tickets to Saturday's game!"

Your stomach dropped. Sure enough, two tickets peeked out of the torn envelope in Riven's hands. But what caught your eye was the note attached.

Found my phone in the team room. Who would’ve thought, right? Peace? - PB

"We're going," Riven declared, already pulling out her phone. "I'm texting the group chat right now. Do you know how impossible these tickets are to get?"

You reached for the tickets, but Riven danced away, holding them above her head like a prized trophy. "We are not going."

"Oh yes we are," she grinned, typing furiously with one hand while keeping the tickets out of your reach with the other. "Everyone's going to be so jealous. How did you even get these?"

"I didn't—" you started, then stopped. How exactly do you explain to your basketball-obsessed roommate that these tickets were some kind of weird peace offering from Paige Bueckers? A peace offering that felt more like a challenge, especially given that note.

"Earth to engineering nerd," Riven waved her hand in front of your face. "You're coming to this game. No excuses. I've already told everyone you're finally embracing the Husky spirit."

You groaned, falling face-first onto your bed. Mr. Gummy stared at you judgmentally from his spot against your pillow. Even he seemed to be saying you should have thrown those tickets away the moment you saw them.

"I have to study," you mumbled into your comforter.

"You always have to study," Riven countered. "But how often do you get courtside tickets from Paige Bueckers?"

Your head shot up. "How did you—"

"PB?" Riven held up the note, smirking. "Please. I may be pre-med, but I'm not stupid. Also, her signature is literally on every piece of UConn merch in the campus store."

Great. Just great. Now you had no choice but to go to the game. If you didn't, Riven would never let you hear the end of it. She'd probably drag you there anyway, study plans be damned.

You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling as if it might offer some escape route from this situation. Instead, all you could think about was how you'd have to sit courtside—courtside—and watch Paige play. Watch her make those impossible passes, sink those perfect three-pointers, command the court like she was born to do it.

And she'd know you were there. That was the worst part. This wasn't just a peace offering—it was a power play. She was making sure you couldn't ignore her anymore.

"Fine," you sighed, already regretting the word as it left your mouth. "But I'm bringing my thermodynamics textbook."

Riven's squeal of delight was probably heard all the way in the engineering building.

You grabbed Mr. Gummy and hugged him to your chest, wondering how exactly you'd gone from successfully telling Paige Bueckers to fuck off to having courtside seats to watch her play. The bear offered no answers, but you could have sworn he looked a little smug about the whole situation.

The next two days were a special kind of torture. Riven had taken it upon herself to become your personal "game day preparation coordinator," which apparently meant forcing you to sit through endless highlight reels of UConn's recent victories. By Friday afternoon, you could probably recite Paige's stat line from memory—not that you'd ever admit that to anyone.

"You can't wear that," Riven declared as you pulled out your standard comfort outfit: UConn Engineering hoodie and black leggings.

You glanced down at your clothes, then back at your roommate. "Why not?"

"Because we're sitting courtside," she emphasized the word like you were a particularly slow child. "People are going to see us. The cameras might even pan to us during timeouts!"

The mere thought made your stomach churn. "That's exactly why I should wear this. I don't want to draw any attention."

Riven was already shaking her head, diving into her closet with the determination of someone on a mission. "No way. If Paige Bueckers gives you courtside tickets, you dress for the occasion."

"She didn't give them to me," you protested, even though technically she had. "They were just left under our door."

"Right," Riven emerged with an armful of clothes. "Just like she just happened to end up in your bed that night?"

You threw Mr. Gummy at her head. She dodged, laughing as the bear bounced harmlessly off your desk lamp. "We are not talking about that again."

An hour and approximately seventeen outfit changes later, you finally escaped. Your excuse about needing to pick up materials from the engineering lab wasn't entirely a lie—you did have a project due next week. The fact that the engineering building was on the opposite side of campus from the athletic facilities was just a bonus.

Lost in thought, you didn't notice the person exiting the coffee shop until it was too late. Hot liquid splashed across your chest as you collided with what felt like a brick wall of muscle.

"Shit, I'm so sorry!" A voice that definitely wasn't Paige's (thank god) exclaimed.

You looked up—and up—into the concerned face of one of UConn's basketball players. The Croatian accent and defensive intensity were legendary enough that even you, perpetually sports-oblivious, recognized her from Riven's endless team discussions.

"It's fine," you managed, trying to ignore how the hot coffee was currently seeping through your shirt. At least it wasn't your engineering hoodie—Riven would've killed you if you'd ruined her carefully planned outfit for tomorrow.

She was already pulling napkins from her pocket, dabbing at your shirt with a look of genuine distress. "Let me buy you a new coffee. And shirt," she added, eyeing the growing stain.

"Really, it's fine." You stepped back, ready to bolt. The last thing you needed was another interaction with a basketball player.

But she wasn't letting you off that easy. She grabbed your wrist with surprising gentleness for someone known for her aggressive defense. “Nah, I insist. I'm Nika, by the way. And I really do feel terrible about this."

Before you could protest further, she was steering you back into the coffee shop. The barista's eyes widened slightly at the sight of Nika—clearly a regular customer—but otherwise maintained their professional composure.

"The usual for me," Nika called out, "and whatever she wants." She turned to you expectantly.

You mumbled your name and order—"Just a black coffee"—trying to shrink into yourself. Several students were openly staring now, probably wondering why Nika Mühl was buying coffee for some random engineering student.

"And a chocolate croissant," Nika added, ignoring your attempt to protest. "Trust me, they're amazing here."

You shifted uncomfortably as she paid, very aware of the wet fabric clinging to your skin. Nika seemed to notice your discomfort because she shrugged off her UConn warmup jacket and held it out to you.

"Here, you can't stay in that wet shirt."

You stared at the jacket like it might bite you. The same style jacket Paige had left on your floor that night. The one that probably cost more than your textbooks.

"I can't—"

"You can and you will," Nika insisted, pushing the jacket into your hands. "There's a bathroom right there. Go change before you catch a cold."

Something in her tone brooked no argument. You found yourself in the bathroom before you could really process what was happening, staring at your reflection as you zipped up the warmup jacket. It was slightly too big, making you look like a kid playing dress-up in their older sibling's clothes.

When you emerged, Nika had already claimed a table in the corner, your drinks and the promised chocolate croissant waiting. She waved you over with a smile that somehow managed to be both friendly and slightly intimidating.

"So," she said as you slid into the seat across from her, "what's your major?"

"Engineering. Mechanical." You picked at the croissant, wondering how quickly you could eat it and escape.

Nika's eyes narrowed slightly, like she was trying to solve a puzzle. "Engineering— wait." Her eyes widened with recognition. "Holy shit, are you that girl?"

You froze mid-bite. "What girl?"

"The one from the library! The one who told Paige—what was it?  ‘That you’re not one of her groupies’?” Nika's grin spread across her face like wildfire. "No wonder she's been such a mess lately."

You choked on your croissant. "What?"

"Oh my god, this is perfect. You're also the one she—" Nika cut herself off, studying your increasingly red face with growing delight. "The one whose room she crashed in after KK’s party?"

Your face burned hotter than the coffee you'd been wearing moments ago. "How did you—"

"Paige tells me everything," Nika leaned back in her chair, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "Well, eventually. Had to drag this one out of her after she spent three days moping around practice like someone had stolen her favorite pair of Jordan’s.”

"I didn't steal anything," you protested automatically. "Not her phone, not her—"

"Oh, she knows that now," Nika waved dismissively. "Found it in the team room yesterday morning. Right where those girls said it would be." She paused, then added with a smirk, "Though I have to say, watching her spiral about it was pretty entertaining. She's not used to people calling her out like that."

The implication hung heavy in the air. You remembered the library girls' story about making out with Paige against the whiteboard. Something must have shown on your face because Nika's expression softened slightly.

"Look, Paige is complicated. She's not used to people seeing through her bullshit." She took a sip of her drink, considering her next words carefully. "Those tickets? That's her way of saying she fucked up."

"By accusing me of stealing her phone?"

"By letting you think she didn't remember that night."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "What?"

Nika's phone buzzed before she could answer. She glanced at it and grimaced. "Speaking of her royal highness, I'm late for film." She stood, gathering her things with practiced efficiency. "Keep the jacket. Consider it compensation for the coffee attack."

You watched her head toward the door, your mind spinning with questions. Just before she left, she turned back with a knowing smirk.

"See you tomorrow at the game. Front row, right?"

The door chimed as she left, leaving you alone with a half-eaten croissant and more questions than answers. You looked down at the jacket, at the way the UConn logo seemed to mock you with its pristine embroidery.

Somehow, in trying to avoid Paige Bueckers, you'd managed to get tangled up in her world anyway. And tomorrow, you'd have to sit courtside and watch her in her element, all while wearing her best friend's jacket.

Mr. Gummy was definitely going to judge you for this.

"No." You glared at the suspicious red cup Riven was waving in front of your face. "Absolutely not."

"Come on! It's tradition!" She pushed the cup closer, its contents sloshing dangerously near the rim. The sharp smell of cheap vodka mixed with what you assumed was cranberry juice wafted toward you. "You can't go to your first real game sober."

You turned back to your mirror, adjusting Nika's warmup jacket for the hundredth time. The number 10 stared back at you, a constant reminder of yesterday's coffee shop encounter. You'd tried to talk yourself out of wearing it, but everything else felt too casual for courtside seats (according to Riven) or too formal (also according to Riven).

"I'm not pregaming a basketball game at three in the afternoon."

"It's four," Riven corrected, checking her phone. "And yes, you are. The team's already been at Gampel for hours, and we need to leave in thirty minutes if we want good spots for warm-ups. I refuse to let you sit there reading thermodynamics while history happens right in front of us."

You spun around, hands on your hips. "History?"

"Yes! We're playing Notre Dame. It's huge." She thrust the cup into your hands with such force that some of it splashed onto your fingers. "And you're wearing Nika Mühl's personal jacket. Do you know how many people would kill for that?"

"I got it because she spilled coffee on me," you muttered, but took a small sip anyway. Just to shut her up. The drink was surprisingly not terrible— mostly juice with just enough vodka to warm your chest.

"Right. Just like Paige 'accidentally' ended up in your bed." Riven made air quotes with her fingers, nearly spilling her own drink in the process. "And then 'accidentally' gave us courtside tickets."

"Can we not talk about that?" You took another sip, larger this time. The warmth spread through your limbs, making everything feel slightly softer around the edges. Maybe Riven had a point about the drinking thing.

"Oh, we're definitely talking about it." She flopped onto your bed, somehow not spilling a drop. "You're wearing her best friend's jacket to watch her play. This is like, next level psychological warfare."

You choked on your drink. "It's not warfare! I just didn't have anything else to wear."

"Mhmm." Riven's knowing smirk made you want to throw Mr. Gummy at her again. "That's why you spent twenty minutes adjusting it in the mirror."

"I did not—"

"You did! You were all,” She stood up, mimicking your earlier movements with exaggerated precision. "'Oh, should I zip it up all the way? Maybe halfway? What if I push up the sleeves?'"

You drained your cup in one go, grimacing at the burn. "I hate you."

"You love me." She was already mixing another drink, this one slightly stronger than the last. "And you're going to thank me when Paige sees you in that jacket and loses her mind."

"She's not going to lose her mind," you protested, but accepted the fresh drink anyway. "She probably won't even notice."

Riven's laugh echoed off the walls. "Oh honey. Paige notices everything. Why do you think she's the best point guard in the country?"

The walk to Gampel Pavilion was a blur of Riven's excited chatter and your growing anxiety. The drinks had taken the edge off, but your heart still raced as you approached the arena. Students were already lining up outside, many wearing jerseys and carrying signs. Your hand instinctively went to the zipper of Nika's jacket, suddenly very aware of what you were wearing.

"Stop fidgeting," Riven hissed, pulling you toward a separate entrance. "You look hot. Own it."

The security guard barely glanced at your tickets before waving you through. The arena was already humming with energy— staff rushing around with equipment, the band setting up in their section, early arrivals claiming their seats. 

Your courtside seats were exactly where you'd dreaded they'd be: directly behind the UConn bench. Close enough to hear every word, see every expression, feel every moment of tension.

"This is insane," you muttered, sinking into your seat. The court stretched out before you like a stage, the overhead lights making everything feel surreal.

"Look." Riven nudged you, pointing toward the tunnel. "They're coming out for warm-ups."

Your heart jumped into your throat as the team emerged, led by the coaching staff. Players filed onto the court in perfect formation, their practice jerseys a sea of navy and white. You spotted Nika first— impossible to miss with her distinctive playing style, already intense even in warm-ups.

And then there she was.

Paige moved with that effortless grace that made everything look easy, her ponytail swinging as she dribbled two balls simultaneously. She hadn't looked toward the crowd yet, locked in that pre-game focus that elite athletes got.

"Here we go," Riven whispered, her phone already out and recording.

You watched as Paige went through her warm-up routine, each movement precise and practiced. She worked her way around the three-point line, barely seeming to notice as shot after shot swished through the net.

Then she turned to grab a rebound, and her eyes swept across the courtside seats.

You saw the exact moment she registered you. Her hands froze mid-dribble, the ball bouncing away forgotten. Her gaze locked onto the number 10 across your chest, then slowly traveled up to meet your eyes.

The intensity in her stare made your whole body flush hot. You watched as her jaw clenched, that familiar muscle ticking in a way that sent heat straight to your core. Her eyes darkened with something that looked dangerously close to possession.

Nika appeared beside her, saying something that made Paige snap back to attention. But not before you caught the way her gaze lingered on how her best friend's jacket fit your frame.

"Holy shit," Riven breathed, still recording. "I think you broke her."

You slumped lower in your seat, already regretting letting the vodka convince you this was a good idea. "Shut up."

"No way. This is better than any reality show." She zoomed in as Paige missed her next three shots in a row. "Look what you did to her."

"I didn't do anything," you protested weakly, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from Paige's form. The way her practice jersey clung to her shoulders, how her muscles flexed with each movement, the intense focus that had returned to her features – though you swore you caught her glancing in your direction between plays.

This was going to be a very long game.

The game started exactly as you'd expected— with Paige absolutely demolishing Notre Dame's defense while you tried very hard to look anywhere else. It wasn't working.

"Did you see that pass?" Riven screamed in your ear for approximately the eighteenth time. "She didn't even look!"

No, you hadn't seen the pass, because you were very deliberately studying the fascinating architecture of Gampel's ceiling. The vodka buzz had worn off about twenty minutes ago, leaving you hyperaware of every move, every sound, every time Paige jogged past your seats during transitions.

The worst part? Nika kept sending you these knowing looks from the bench, like she was watching her favorite rom-com play out in real time. You were starting to regret not bringing your thermodynamics textbook after all. At least differential equations made sense. They didn't smirk at you or have perfectly defined arm muscles or—

"Time out, Huskies!"

The players jogged toward the bench, and suddenly your personal space was invaded by very tall, very sweaty athletes. You tried to shrink further into your seat, but there was nowhere to go. Especially not when Paige dropped into a crouch right in front of you, ostensibly to grab her water bottle.

"Nice jacket," she said quietly, just loud enough for you to hear over the timeout huddle. Her eyes traveled down your body in a way that made you feel like you were wearing significantly less than a full warmup jacket and jeans.

You opened your mouth to respond with something witty, something that would put her in her place like you had in the library. Instead, what came out was: "Your friend has good taste."

Paige's eyes darkened, that same possessive look from warm-ups returning with intensity. "Does she?"

Before you could dig yourself into an even deeper hole, Coach Auriemma's voice cut through the tension. "Bueckers! Get your ass over here!"

You watched as she jogged back to the huddle, trying to ignore how your skin felt electric where her gaze had lingered. Beside you, Riven was practically vibrating with excitement.

"I got all of that on video," she whispered, waving her phone in your face. "This is going in the group chat."

"If you send that anywhere, I will reprogram your phone to only play the Barney theme song."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

The timeout ended, and the players returned to the court. You noticed Paige was playing with even more intensity now, if that was possible. Her crossovers were sharper, her passes more precise, like she had something to prove.

"Twenty bucks says she's showing off for you," Riven muttered.

"Thirty says you're delusional."

But as you watched Paige sink another impossible three-pointer and turn slightly— just slightly - in your direction before jogging back on defense, you had to admit that maybe, just maybe, Riven had a point.

The game continued in a blur of strategic timeouts (during which Paige found increasingly creative ways to end up near your seat), incredible plays (that you definitely weren't watching just to see the way her muscles moved), and Riven's running commentary (which was getting progressively less about basketball and more about the "tension that could be cut with a knife").

By the fourth quarter, UConn had built a comfortable lead, and you'd developed a concerning familiarity with exactly how Paige's practice jersey clung to her shoulders when she was sweating. This was not information you needed in your life. You had CAD models to build, robots to program, a future in engineering to secure. You did not have time to notice how her hair had started falling out of its ponytail in these impossibly attractive wisps, or how—

"Game! Huskies win!"

The final buzzer snapped you out of your completely professional analysis of athletic biomechanics. The crowd erupted as players from both teams exchanged handshakes and hugs. You stood, ready to make your escape before—

"Leaving so soon?"

You turned to find Paige standing right there, still slightly breathless from the game, her presence filling your entire field of vision. Up close, you could see the flush of exertion on her cheeks, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the slight curl of her lips that suggested she knew exactly what she was doing to you.

"I have studying to do," you managed, proud that your voice came out steady.

"On a Saturday night?" She stepped closer, and you caught the faint scent of her perfume mixed with sweat. It should not have been as attractive as it was. "After watching me put up thirty points?"

"Thirty-two," you corrected automatically, then immediately wanted to die. Beside you, Riven made a sound that might have been a squeal or a laugh.

Paige's smirk grew wider. "So you were watching."

"It was kind of hard to miss, considering where we're sitting." You gestured to the courtside seats that had started this whole mess.

"About that," she ran a hand through her hair, and those loose strands fell perfectly around her face in a way that had to be practiced. "I was thinking maybe we could—"

"Paige!" Nika's voice cut through whatever she'd been about to say. "Media's waiting!"

You'd never been so grateful for press obligations in your life.

Paige's jaw clenched in frustration, but she recovered quickly. "This isn't over," she said, her voice low enough that only you could hear. Then she was gone, jogging toward the media section with that natural athletic grace that made everything look effortless.

You stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Your skin still tingled where she'd been standing close enough to touch.

"So," Riven's voice broke through your daze. "Still think she hasn't noticed you?"

"We're going out," Riven declared, already rummaging through your closet without permission. "No arguments."

You looked up from your laptop, where you'd been desperately trying to focus on anything other than replaying the game in your head for the past two hours. "I have to—"

"If you say 'study' I will literally scream." She emerged with your one decent going-out top, the black one with the low back that you'd bought on impulse and worn exactly once. "You just watched UConn destroy Notre Dame from courtside seats while Paige Bueckers eye-fucked you in front of the entire student section. We're celebrating."

"She wasn't—" You cut yourself off, heat creeping up your neck. "And anyway, shouldn't she be celebrating with her girlfriend?"

The words tasted bitter in your mouth. You'd been trying very hard not to think about Taylor, about how Paige had crashed into your room calling out her name, about how clearly serious it must be if she was that desperate to apologize. The fact that she'd spent the entire game looking at you like... that... well, it just proved what everyone said about her, didn't it?

"Oh my god," Riven threw the shirt at your head. "Put this on. We're getting drunk and you're going to tell me everything you're overthinking about right now."

An hour later, you found yourself at The Tavern, nursing your second Moscow Mule while Riven recounted the game to anyone who would listen. The bar was packed with students celebrating the win, most still wearing their UConn gear and riding the high of victory.

"I just don't get it," you said, mostly to your drink. "Why is she suddenly so interested? I'm literally nobody. I spend my Friday nights debugging Python scripts and building robots that occasionally catch fire."

"Maybe that's exactly why," Riven waggled her eyebrows. "You're different. You don't worship the ground she walks on."

You snorted. "Right. Because what Paige Bueckers really wants is someone who told her to fuck off in the library."

The doors to The Tavern burst open, and suddenly the energy in the room shifted. A new wave of celebration swept through as the team arrived, fresh from their post-game duties. Your stomach did a complicated flip as you spotted Paige among them, now changed into fitted black jeans and a white button-down that should be illegal. Her hair was down, falling in waves that your fingers definitely didn't itch to touch.

"Speak of the devil," Riven smirked. "Want to test that theory?"

"Don't you dare—" But Riven was already waving enthusiastically, catching Nika's attention. The Croatian player's face lit up with unholy glee when she spotted you.

"Engineering girl!" Nika bounded over, dragging a very amused-looking Paige with her. "Still wearing my jacket, I see."

You started to unzip it, but she waved you off. "Keep it. It looks better on you anyway." She shot Paige a meaningful look that made your cheeks burn.

"I need another drink," Riven announced suddenly, grabbing Nika's arm. "Come show me where the team keeps their secret stash."

"We don't have a—" Nika caught on quickly, grinning. "Oh, right. That secret stash. This way."

And just like that, you were alone with Paige at the crowded bar, your body humming with awareness of how close she was standing.

"Subtle, aren't they?" Paige smiled, and for once it wasn't that practiced smirk. It was something softer, more genuine. She signaled the bartender, who materialized instantly. Must be nice being a campus celebrity.

"The usual?" The bartender asked Paige, already reaching for a bottle.

"And whatever she's having," Paige nodded toward your nearly empty Moscow Mule.

"I can buy my own drinks," you said quickly, reaching for your wallet.

Paige's lips twitched. "I know you can. But consider it part of my ongoing apology for the whole bed situation."

You raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep your voice steady. "You always apologize to your drunken mistakes with expensive drinks?"

The moment the words left your mouth, you wanted to snatch them back. But instead of looking offended, Paige just studied you with those impossibly intense eyes.

"Only the ones who let me cuddle their stuffed bears."

"Mr. Gummy," you corrected automatically, then immediately wanted to die. Again.

The bartender returned with your drinks, and you grabbed yours perhaps a bit too quickly, needing something to do with your hands. The Moscow Mule was perfect – strong enough to blame your burning cheeks on the alcohol.

"So," Paige said after a moment, looking far too comfortable for someone who'd just been called out on their drunken mistakes. "Engineering, huh?"

You nearly choked on your drink. "Are we really doing small talk right now?"

"Would you prefer I go back to staring at you from across the court?"

"I prefer knowing where I stand," you shot back, the alcohol making you braver than usual. "Because last I checked, you had a girlfriend you were pretty desperate to apologize to."

Something flashed across her face – regret? Embarrassment? "Taylor and I it's complicated."

"Isn't it always?" You couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of your voice. You'd heard enough stories about Paige's "complicated" situations to fill a textbook.

She turned to face you fully, and your breath caught at the unexpected vulnerability in her expression. "Look, I know what people say about me. Some of it's probably true. But Taylor and I have been over for months. That night... I was drunk and stupid because she'd started seeing someone new, and I handled it badly."

"By trying to crawl into her bed?"

"By accidentally crawling into yours." Her voice dropped lower, sending involuntary shivers down your spine. "Which, in retrospect, might have been the universe doing me a favor."

You forced yourself to meet her gaze, ignoring how your heart raced at the way she was looking at you. "Does that line usually work?"

"I don't know," she smiled, and it wasn't her usual cocky smirk. It was something smaller, almost shy. "I've never used it before."

Before you could process that, a commotion erupted near the pool tables. You both turned to see Riven attempting to teach one of the team's shooting guards proper form, which seemed to involve a lot of unnecessary physical contact.

"Ten bucks says they end up making out in the bathroom," Paige said, amusement coloring her tone.

"Twenty says Riven chickens out and spends the next week telling me about all the signals she thinks she missed."

Paige laughed, and the sound did something dangerous to your insides. "You know your roommate well."

"Well enough to know she's going to interrogate me about this conversation later."

"This conversation?" Paige shifted slightly closer, and you caught that intoxicating mix of her perfume and something uniquely her. "What's there to interrogate about?"

You gestured vaguely between you. "This whole... whatever this is. Where you're suddenly interested in small talk about my major and making jokes about the universe doing you favors."

"Maybe I just want to know more about the girl who told me to fuck off in the library." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "While wearing my best friend's jacket, no less."

"That was an accident—"

"Was it?" She was definitely closer now, close enough that you could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. "Because from where I was standing, it looked a lot like a challenge."

Your grip tightened on your drink. "Not everything is about you, Bueckers."

"No," she agreed, her voice soft but intense. "But the way you've been looking at me all night? That might be."

The air between you crackled with tension. You should step back. You should remember all the stories, all the warnings, all the reasons this was a terrible idea. You should—

"There you are!" Nika's voice cut through the moment like a bucket of cold water. "Coach just texted. Team meeting tomorrow morning got moved up."

Paige's jaw clenched in frustration, but she recovered quickly. "What time?"

"Eight AM." Nika's eyes darted between you and Paige, her expression far too knowing. "Sorry to interrupt."

"You weren't," you said quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly judging by Nika's raised eyebrow.

Paige turned back to you, and the intensity in her gaze made your breath catch. "We'll finish this conversation later."

It wasn't a question.

You watched her walk away, trying to ignore how your body still hummed from her proximity. Nika lingered behind, grinning like she'd just won a bet with herself.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "I've never seen her work this hard for someone's attention before."

"I'm not—" you started, but Nika was already following Paige, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a half-empty Moscow Mule.

Riven materialized beside you moments later, her eyes wide. "Okay, what the hell was that?"

"Nothing," you mumbled into your drink. "Just Paige Bueckers being Paige Bueckers."

But as you watched her gather her team to leave, she turned back just for a moment, catching your eye across the bar. The look she gave you was pure heat, a promise of more conversations to come.

You were so beyond utterly fucked.

Continue Reading Part 2

[claw-deen]

with a black cat variant s/o (genderneutral!reader):

miles would be like “no! stealing is wrong! 😤 but they look so cool while doing it tho 😩” his mind would be so confused, because yeah you're stealing, but only from rich people and he heard rumors about black cat helping people on the streets. one day he used his invisibility power to spy on you during one of your heist, he could have stopped you a hundred times that day, but he didn't. he might have developed the tiniest crush on you.

gwen thinks that you're the coolest person alive. yeah stealing is wrong, but she honestly doesn't care at all lol. as long as you're not hurting anyone you can rob as many rich people as you want she won't stop you. sometimes you meet on rooftops at night and often end up teaming up with her to defeat some bad guys, then you watch the sunrise together while chatting about your lives.

pavitr is suspicious of you at first, he understands that you're not a threat to the people he protects but he doesn't treat you like an ally either. he kept his distance from you until the day you saved his life; now he trusts you entirely and he likes to do his night shifts in your company. he knows you won't like it but he's very worried about you and your illegal activity, he'd rather have you doing vigilante work with him.

hobie is a big fan. he heard about you as someone who stole the rich to give to the poor and he was like “slay.” he's the one who came to you during one of your heists and asked you to team up with him. now you, pavitr and hobie want to rob museums to return all the stolen objects to their people. hobie admires you a lot, like gwen, he thinks you're the coolest person he ever met and coming from him, that means a lot.

GUYS I CAN ALREADY SEE THE ENEMIES TO LOVERS FICS COMING IN miguel wants to see you as nothing more than another enemy, he really wants to, but it's such a difficult task when you're helping people with the money of your robberies and you're looking so good while doing it too. he tried to stop you on multiple occasions, but every time he was about to put an end to your crimes something in his mind made him fail. for now you two will keep playing that cat and mouse game, well, cat and spider game, but one day you'll have to kiss him on the mouth, that'll calm him down.

[mocchiixxx]

Ranked First, You Second—Wait, No, You First

Genre: Fluff, Gamer!Wonwoo, Clingy but Lovable Girlfriend, Soft Affection

Summary: Wonwoo is in the middle of an important ranked game when his clingy girlfriend demands his attention. Unable to ignore her, he pulls her onto his lap, letting her cling to him while he finishes the match. The moment he wins? She becomes his only priority.

It started with a simple poke to his shoulder.

Then, a soft whine.

And then—a full-on koala cling.

Wonwoo sighed through his nose, not in frustration, but in quiet amusement. He was in the middle of an intense ranked match, headset on, fingers flying over his keyboard with perfect precision. His focus was sharp—until you started nuzzling against his back like a cat demanding attention.

"Jagi," he murmured, eyes still locked on the screen. "I'm in a match."

"I know," you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. "But I miss you."

He exhaled softly, tilting his head slightly as if considering his options. Then, without a word, he reached out, hooked an arm around your waist, and effortlessly pulled you into his lap.

You blinked in surprise. "Oh."

Wonwoo adjusted you so you were comfortable, one arm loosely wrapped around your waist while his other hand remained on the mouse. His focus never wavered, even as you rested your head against his shoulder.

"Better?" he asked, voice low and even.

You hummed, burying your face into the crook of his neck. "Mhm. Much better."

Wonwoo smirked slightly but said nothing. He simply continued playing, his movements precise and calculated, barely affected by the added weight of you clinging onto him. His chat, however, had a lot to say about it.

"WHO IS HE PLAYING WITH ON HIS LAP???" "Gamer bf but soft bf at the same time???" "I love how he didn’t even hesitate to pull her in." "Sir, focus on the game, not your cute gf."

You peeked at the screen, watching him take down opponents effortlessly. Even in this position, he was completely in his element. But every now and then, his fingers would ghost over your back in soft, absentminded strokes—little reminders that he hadn’t forgotten about you.

Then, finally, after what felt like forever, the victory banner flashed on his screen.

"Alright," he muttered, taking off his headset. "Now, where were we?"

Before you could answer, he shifted slightly, adjusting you in his lap so he could fully face you. His eyes, once sharp and calculating, had softened considerably.

"You wanted attention, right?" he asked, tilting his head.

You grinned. "Yes, I did."

"Okay," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You have all of it now."

And just like that, the world of gaming faded into the background—because as much as he loved winning, nothing compared to the feeling of having you in his arms.

[haihoneys]

Pool Party Fun Times

Summary: San is getting really tired of this cat-and-mouse game he’s been playing with Y/N. Little does he know, she’s fed up too. What’s going to happen when they each decide they’re going to make a move at their mutual friend’s pool party?

Word Count: 3,763

Pairing: Choi San x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut - reader is a ✨screamer✨, mention of blood (bitten lip), barely proofread (im defs high editing this oops), unprotected sex (pls be smart)

A/N: this is set in the same universe as If The Heavens Ever Did Speak and Afternoon Delight. you don’t have to read those to read this, though!! just thought i would mention it hehe. if you wanna get really specific… it actually happens the same day as Afternoon Delight… its the same party 👀

——

The first time they met, San found himself drawn to her. She just had this magnetism about her that seemed to always keep him in her orbit. From the second Yeosang, a long-time friend of her’s apparently, introduced them to one another at a listening party San was just…enamored. She was all twinkling eyes and bright smiles, fluttering lashes and breathy laughs. 

Since then, she’d been popping up randomly in his world.

Two days after the listening party, they ran into each other at a cafe. A week after that, he was picking up some takeout from his favorite chicken place and all but ran into her as she was leaving the same restaurant. The very next day, as he was leaving the dance practice, he saw her from across the street as she was exiting a cab. 

San smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughed and called her name. Y/N whipped around, shock coloring her features as she searched for the stranger calling for her. He jogged across the street, huffing another chuckle as he stopped before her. 

“We really need to stop running into each other like this.”

She laughed and nodded her agreement, reaching out a hand to rest on his bicep.  

The gentle touch had him biting down on the inside of his cheeks to keep from sighing and leaning closer to her.

“Yeah, we definitely do,” she smiled up at him, and to his horror, she pulled her hand away to hoist her bag up higher on her shoulder. “I actually have a meeting I need to get to. But, here, let me see your phone?”

San immediately started fumbling for his phone, patting at his pockets until he found the device. He unlocked it before placing it in her waiting palm. Y/n pulled out her own phone, swiping until she open… Snapchat… of all things and opened up her profile to show the qr code. She found the same app on his phone and opened it up, scanning the code to add her as a ‘friend.’ 

She made a satisfied little hmph sound as she locked his phone and handed it back to him. “Ooh, the request came through! Let me accept it before I head to my meeting.”

And they had been dancing around each other ever since, skirting just on the edge of flirting.

A shirtless, post-workout gym selfie from San. A shot of her legs in a bubble bath in response. 

A reply to his story complimenting his new haircut. A little video showing off said haircut as he thanked her.

Nothing too overt, but at the same time… it wasn’t just nothing.

They were both aware of the mutual attraction, of the suggestiveness of some of their photos and messages. But neither of them were making any real moves towards the other.

That is, until they were thrown into a group chat together with all their friends and invited to a pool party to celebrate the start of the summer.

Their phones pinged at the same time from opposite sides of the city: Y/N tucked into her cozy apartment and San in the back of an SUV on his way back to the dorms from the studio.

That was it. That was the opportunity they needed. This party would be the perfect time to make a move.

Of course, both of them choked when the day came. Offering up only shy hellos and timid waves when they saw each other.

In San’s defense though, she just looked too fucking good. When he saw her in the low-cut summer dress, nipples poking through the thin fabric, he had to excuse himself to the bathroom to adjust his semi-hard cock in his jeans.

He spent the rest of the afternoon making eyes at her from across the pool deck, not bothering to hide the fact or even deny it when Wooyoung giggled about it.

And she was sending those looks right back to him! He swore she was fluttering her long eyelashes at him, too. And maybe he started to think about how she would look up at him when she was on her knees for him… about how she’d take him down her throat and - 

A beach ball came soaring across the deck and smacked him on the forehead. He stood there, a bit dazed, as he snapped out of his thoughts.

Wooyoung was doubled over, laughing so hard he was near tears, trying to choke out an apology. San huffed and rolled his eyes, picking the pool toy up and hurling it back at Wooyoung.

San smiled at the dull thwack! as it made contact with the side of his head.

“Ow!” Wooyoung gasped, hand flying to rub at his head. “No way it hit you that hard!” 

“Serves you right, brat,” San shrugged. Honestly, it was probably for the best with the way his thoughts were spiraling just seconds ago. 

San eventually found himself behind the outdoor bar, playing bartender much to the delight of his friends. Yunho and Mingi’s cheering for him caught Y/N’s attention from across the deck, her focus pulling away from the boys’ makeup artist to land on the rowdy trio. 

She excused herself at the first lull in the conversation, claiming she needed another drink despite the nearly full seltzer she was nursing, and seated herself at the far end of the bar. 

San turned toward her, leaning back against the counter behind him as he tossed the towel he was using to dry his hands over his shoulder. He crosses his thick arms and Y/N’s eyes locked in on the corded muscles and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t thinking about him pinning her down and - 

“What can I getcha miss?”

His question brought her back to reality, her cheeks and ears heating as he stared her down.

‘He knows’ she thought ‘he absolutely, 100% knows that I was just thinking about him pinning me to the bed upstairs.’ 

“Um,” she stuttered, suddenly nervous under the weight of his intense gaze. “Surprise me.” 

The left corner of his mouth tugged into a smirk as he uncrossed his arms and turned away from her. He began pouring various mixers and liquors into a shaker before slapping the top on and shaking the concoction. Y/N watched him and nearly moaned at the way the toned muscles in his shoulders and back flexed and moved under his white t-shirt as he went about the task. 

Yeosang just so happened to pass behind her and reached up to tug on a lock of her hair to get her attention. Y/N hummed, barely acknowledging her friend, and Yeosang chuckled under his breath.

“Close your mouth. You’re starting to drool,” he teased before walking off again. 

Y/N swatted at him as he went, mumbling for him to hush because she was busy watching a ‘show.’ 

San scooped some ice into a glass and poured the mixture over it, making a show of licking the fingers of his right hand as he slid her the drink with his left. He leaned forward onto the bar, and the muscles of his arms shifted again. He noted Y/N’s eyes following his movements, and he smirked.

“Let me know what you think.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great.” She reached for the glass, making sure to just barely brush the tips of her fingers against his forearm as she did. She kept her eyes locked on his as she brought the glass to her lips and took a sip.

“I bet it’ll be the best you’ve ever had.” 

Y/N choked and spluttered on her drink, the heat returning to her cheeks. She looked up at him when she finally caught her breath, ready to spew something about how the drink had just gone down the wrong way. But when her eyes locked on his face again he was giving her the biggest shit eating grin and something clicked into place.

She realized he had been torturing her on purpose. Well, two could play at that game, she supposed. 

She leaned forward onto the bar, purposefully crossing her arms under her tits so they were pushed up practically in his face. She gave herself an extra point in their little game when she noticed his eyes dip down to her cleavage. He flicked his eyes back up to meet hers, his mouth opening to say something clever, to try to fluster her again. So she beat him to the punch.

“Hmm.. I bet I could top it.”

San cocked an eyebrow and grinned at her. “Is that so?” 

Y/N hummed in affirmation and took another sip of her drink. This time, she had to bite back her cringe as the alcohol actually made contact with her taste buds. It was atrocious; nail polish remover probably would have gone down smoother than the literal poison he had given her.

But she smiled, her best attempt at coy, and slid off the bar stool without another word, making sure to put a little emphasis in the sway of her hips as she made her way to the sliding door that led directly into the sunroom of the house. 

It was one of those cliche-as-fuck moments where San thought “damn I hate to see her go, but I love to watch her leave”. 

He was still leaned over the bar, trying to give her at least a few minutes of a head start so everyone still gathered around the pool and bar wouldn't immediately know what they were about to get up to.

The last shred of his willpower flew out the window, though, when she made it to the door and looked over her shoulder at him. She grinned like she knew she had him in the palm of her hand.

And to be fair, she did. 

San pushed off the bar and, as casually as he could, walked towards the door she’d just disappeared through. He found her in the sunroom leaning against the sideboard that was pressed directly under the window, back to the door as she played on her phone.

He stepped behind her and wrapped an arm around her from behind, one hand splaying across her lower tummy as she discarded her phone. San leaned in and moved the hair from her neck and shoulder before leaning in and pressing a kiss just beneath her ear. 

“You thought you were cute out there, huh?”

She could feel the smirk he pressed into the skin of her neck, and then all of the bravado she had worked up was suddenly gone as she practically melted into his touch.

“Bet you thought you had the upper hand all day…Just flouncing around in this flimsy little dress.”

His hands started to wander, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they slid from her hips, up her abdomen to cup and squeeze at her tits. “Not wearing a fucking bra… bet you aren’t wearing panties either, are you?” San laughs, and it’s a sardonic, almost cruel sound.

He pinched at one of her nipples and involuntarily bucked into her when she whimpered and arched into his touch. He slid a hand up further so he could grasp her neck, turning her head towards him just a bit so he could see her pretty face. 

“What if I’m not?” She was breathless as she said it, the anticipation, the want, evident in her tone.

She was clenching her thighs together, trying for any sort of friction, for any sort of relief. San laughed again and dropped the hand that was still on her chest back to her hip. He started to grab and bunch the fabric there, hiking her dress up just enough to slip his hand under the hem.

Y/N whimpered as his fingers brushed over her thighs, tracing shapes and patterns so close yet so far from where she truly wanted him. She was ready to beg for it, the plea on the tip of her tongue when he finally, blessedly moved his hand between her thighs and slid his fingers through her folds. 

He pulled his hand away and held it up in front of their faces, the setting sun shining through the window and reflecting off the sticky wetness on his fingers. 

“You’re being a tease,” she breathed out, chest heaving. 

San laughed and Y/N was beginning to hate the sound and how it made her pussy clench and ache for him. She turned in his grip and watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean.

He groaned at the taste of her. He was going to spend a long, long time between her thighs. He wanted to fucking drink her and all she had to give him. 

Then he was kissing her, hands in the hair at the base of her skull and pulling just hard enough to guide her where he wanted her. She could still taste herself on his tongue and it was driving her fucking insane, her head swimming.

The primal urge to tear into each other was palpable. The kiss was all clashing teeth and bitten lips, wet and sticky with spit and a bit of blood from a bite that was just a bit too hard. San pulled away a fraction, his pupils blown wide as he stared her down. 

Y/N zoned in on the drop of blood on his lip and gasped. “Fuck! I’m so sorry…oh my god… I didn’t realize I was going that crazy.”

She was speaking a mile a minute, rambling and apologizing profusely, and San cut her off with another searing kiss. 

“What’s pleasure without a bit of pain?” He walked them backwards as he said it, his hands still tangled in her hair.

He eased them down onto the daybed at the back of the room, pulling her into his lap and rucking her dress back up around her hips so she could straddle him.

“You okay?” He asked, wanting to keep her comfort at the top of his priorities. 

“God, yes,” she breathed out and went back in for another kiss, licking into his mouth like she wanted to imprint the taste of him in her own mouth. Y/N started grinding down onto him, the fly of his jeans and the hardness of his cock providing the most delicious friction against her clit.

He moaned into her mouth, strong hands on her hips, dragging her back and forth over his lap until she was whimpering and whining for him. San kissed at the corner of her mouth and murmured to her, “You gonna cum for me? Gonna cum just from humping me like this, baby?” 

She whined and nodded her head frantically, her voice fully gone, the pressure building and building in her lower belly until her toes were curling and stars were bursting behind her eyelids. San hummed below her, hands still pushing and pulling at her as she started to writhe above him, riding out her high.

San watched her, in rapture, as she lost herself to the pleasure. He wanted to burn the sight into the backs of his eyelids so he could conjure it up the next time he found himself alone and wanting.

“I need you inside me right now or I might fucking die.”

That might be the hottest thing he’d ever heard. 

She lifted herself onto her knees - there was just enough space between them to allow her to fumble with his pants and help him shimmy them down his thick thighs. She almost started salivating at the sight of his cock slapping up against his abdomen, heavy and swollen and already leaking precum. 

“Can’t have that now, can we?” He tried to joke, but his laugh was cut off by a guttural groan as she sank down onto him. The wet, molten heat of her might just be heaven, his own personal nirvana. He honestly thought he could live there, buried to the hilt in her pretty little cunt.

Then she started rocking against him and moaning his name, and San nearly came undone at the sound. He gripped at her hips, fingers pressing marks that would surely turn to bruises, and picked her up just enough to give him room to fuck up into her.

The angle was damn near perfect, she could feel every ridge and vein of him, could feel the tip of his cock kissing against her cervix. Her head fell back as she moaned at a particularly well-placed thrust, leaving her throat exposed to him. And San took full advantage of it.

He leaned forward and attached his lips to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Biting down until she whined - he was starting to think that high-pitched, needy little noise was going to become one of his favorite sounds - before he laved over the quickly reddening mark with his tongue to soothe the sting of pain. 

She was clawing at his arms and shoulders, nails raking down his skin, and he hissed at the sharp bite of it. But he loved it. Loved that she was marking him up, putting her claim on him in such a visible way. Just as he had done to her. 

Suddenly, he was flipping them, and she squealed, arms flying up to wrap around his neck. San never lost his momentum though, fucking into her with even more force thanks to the new angle and leverage. He buried his face in her neck, kissing and sucking new marks onto the column of her throat.

“Fuckkkk,” he groaned into her, pressing the curse into her skin between the kisses, “you feel so fucking good.” 

Words were lost to her at that point; her eyes rolled back in her head as he slammed into her over and over again. She was whimpering and keening beneath him, her hands tangled in and tugging at his hair as he kept pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

San slipped his own hand between them, effortlessly finding her swollen clit. It was a bit clumsy at first, but he steadied himself quickly, drawing tight little circles over her. He sped up his thrusts, and the force of it had them sliding over the edge of the bed.

He was somehow clear-headed enough to thank god that the daybed was low. Practically just cushions on the floor already, so neither of them ended up hurt when they fully slid to the floor.

Y/N didn’t even seem to notice the shift, pupils blown wide, and cheeks flushed. She looked so fucked out that he thought he might could cum just from the look on her face. From knowing that it was him that put that look there. He set back to rubbing at her clit, determined to make her cum again.

“Can you cum for me again, baby? I need you to cum for me… c’mon and give it to me, yeah?

She didn’t need words to answer him, her body taking over and doing it for her as her pussy clamped down so tight around him that he couldn’t fucking move.

The blinding ecstasy ripped through her, and she screamed his name as her vision fully whited out. She was clinging to him like she might slip away from the earth if he wasn’t there tethering her to it, arms thrown around his shoulders and legs hooked over his hips.

San slapped a hand over her mouth, torn between relishing in the fact that he was the one making her scream like that and being worried about everyone just on the other side of the window being able to hear them. 

He swore to himself that next time, he would make sure they were fully alone. That they had all the privacy they needed so she could be as loud as she wanted. So he would be able to hear all those pretty sounds at full volume.

San knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, the fluttering of her cunt around him and the muffled whines she was making from behind his hand were sending him barreling towards his own climax.

He quickly pulled out, sitting back on his calves, his hand flew over his cock as he gave himself a few pumps. San moaned as he came, hot ropes of cum spilling onto her lower belly. 

She was still trembling through her aftershocks as she hummed and brought her fingers to the mess, swirled them around before bringing them to her lips and licking them clean. The menace made sure to keep her gaze locked on his as she did it, moaning at the taste of him as he watched her slack-jawed.

“Didn’t think it was fair that you got to taste me and I didn’t get to taste you.”

San snorted as he rolled to the side of her, flinging his arm over his face. “Keep looking at me like that and saying shit like that and you’ll definitely be tasting me soon.”

Y/N laughed, and it had him giggling in turn. San wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, pressing soft kisses to her temple. They gave themselves a few moments to fully catch their breaths before they decided they should clean up and head back out to the party before their friends came looking for them.

He needed to find her something clean to wear and offer to have her dress dry cleaned. He told her as much, but she waved him off, telling him not to worry about it. 

San leaned against the doorframe and watched as she tried her best to tame her hair into something remotely presentable. 

“By the way,” he started, “You’re really loud. I was sure someone was going to come in here thinking I was killing you or something.”

Y/N flushed and looked away from him, embarrassed that he had brought it up after the fact. “Sorry… I get so caught up I can’t really help it…”

San paused, head tilting to the side and grinning softly at her.

“I never said it was a bad thing. Or that I didn’t like it. In fact,” He took a step forward, just close enough to be able to settle a hand on her hip, the other cupping her cheek. “I plan on hearing those sounds again. And seeing just how loud you can get."

——

Tag List:

 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones

[crimsonbubble]

no bc just imagine how sexually frustrated miguel would be after chasing you around like cat and mouse… the breeding has entered the chat

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, breeding kink, creampies, hair pulling, degradation, overstimulation, a bit of manhandling, improper use of webs *not proofread, just pure horny

[I want him so bad why can't he be real 😔😔😔]

MINORS DNI!!

he's getting tired of this, but your pretty eyes and soft lips draw in him each time he swore that he wouldn't fall for your games. as tired as he is, he always lets you get away with it.

letting you get away with it a little too easily. though now he's stopped his chasing, trying to keep himself occupied to stop himself from playing into your games. he can feel your eyes on him, burning into his back as he continues working through anomaly reports.

as you tried to sneak up on him, you felt something spread across your chest, wrapping around your arms. with a sharp tug, miguel pulled you into him. you collided with his chest, a hand holding his webs and a hand on your lower back. you struggled against the webs, only making him spread more around you.

miguel quickly tugged your mask off, a smirk playing on his lips as he saw the shock written on your face. "not so tough now, huh?" you struggled against the webs again, trying to pull yourself away from him. "don't try and run from me now, you earned this."

miguel let out a grunt, pushing you up against his desk. he pressed a heavy hand to your back, webbing your wrists together. with little to no care, his talons rip through the crotch of your spider suit. the cloth is torn to shreds on the platform. "you've been nothing but a pain in the ass,"

miguel takes in the sight of you bound in crimson webs and bent over his desk. "a real thorn in my side." you try to peer over your shoulder only for miguel to press your head down to his desk. "we're not done til I say we're done." he disengages his suit with a flash, grinding his throbbing cock through your folds.

"you're lucky I'm even letting you have my cock." he says this yet he's just as needy for you as you are for him. the back and forth, the pushing and pulling, the cat and mouse games; he loves them but sometimes all he really wants is to web you up and fuck you til your legs give out.

and that is exactly what he's going to do. miguel lets his own fantasies and desires lead him, letting himself act on his impulses. miguel bottomed out in one sharp thrust, your walls convulsing and tightening around him as he fucked you. each thrust was heavier than the last, hips hips knocking you up further onto his desk.

with the hand pushing your face into his desk, he's tangling his fingers into your hair, pulling your head back as he rocked his hips into yours. you can't get words out because of how rough his pace is. miguel set a hand on your hip, using it to pull your ass back on his dick.

every thrust in and pull back forced his cock deeper, stretching your walls to accommodate his size. you're practically seeing stars shoot across your vision, mouth hanging open with each moan and cry that leaves you breathier than the last. with how easily miguel is leading you to orgasm, you know that you're not getting out of this for a while.

"only the first and you're already this fuckin' messy, huh?" the condescending tone makes your pussy flutter, as miguel tracks a finger over your pulsing clit. he rubs circles against the throbbing bud as you tumble head first into another orgasm. "m-miggy-" the words are caught in your throat, being passed by lewd cries and heavy moans.

your slick is gushing around his cock, and the wet noises of skin on skin finally make it to your ringing ears. miguel pushes your head against his desk again, grunting as he speeds through his release. it's a flood of warmth as miguel keeps his pace, groaning as much cum spills out of you. "fuck, look at you. such a messy little thing."

you can't tell up from down as miguel guides you to another orgasm. you're trying to alleviate the heavy plows of his hips by raising to your toes, but it only motivates miguel to go even harder, as if he's trying to knock the sense out of you. your eyes are blurring with tears, the stinging of the overstimulation starting to bite.

in a feeble attempt at pushing miguel away, he pins your wrists against your back. he uses it as more leverage to pull you back on his cock, letting another heavy load paint your walls white. "it's okay, take it just like that." the moans he's letting out are deep and guttural, a noise you would've missed if you weren't being drowned in his mere presence.

you're struggling against the webs again, the tingle of the overstimulation reaching new heights. miguels superhuman nature granted him increased stamina and endurance, making it easy for him to ride out his second high while you're crashing through your third. "c'mon now, is that all you got?"

you outwardly whine at his words, pushing your hips back to meet him halfway. miguel leans down, his chest to your back as he kisses up your neck. his fangs pushed against your skin, lightly grazing it with a featherlike pressure. it's as if he's teasing the idea that he could sink his teeth in. he very much could but he wants you to feel everything that he's doing to you.

he's got you trapped, and he doesn't intend on letting you go any time soon.

[forlix]

𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁・l.f.

— in which you forget that your hot housemate follows you on twitter.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.1k 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・roommate!felix x gn!streamer!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, flirting, kind of an smau, implied friends to lovers, humor if u count jeongin being a piece of shit

𝗮/𝗻・saw this tweet the other day and it was so painfully lix coded that i knew i had to write something asap. contains a tiny bit of gaming jargon but is hopefully comprehensible. ENJOY ♡

y/n ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ @ y/nxx

if someone brings you fresh cut fruit to your table when you're gaming, they either like LIKE you or it's your mom

11:23 A.M.・Oct. 2023・220.2K Views

bokkie 🐣 liked your post.

“My tweet?”

You read aloud the newest text in your chatroom, and your face brightens when you remember the one in question.

“Oh, about the fruit—no, it’s so true though. And I love my mom, don't get me wrong, but I have an inkling she did it to guilt trip me." You change your posture and adopt your best motherly tone of voice. "‘This is your tenth consecutive hour wasting your young adulthood in front of that damn screen. I am now going to hand deliver apple slices straight to your mouth.’ That kind of vibe, y'know?"

A slew of messages follows your anecdote, but it is a comment from one of your moderators that catches your eye first:

je0ng1n: what about the other option tho 👀

You groan at the sight of his username. “Man, why are you always here? Don't you have a job?"

je0ng1n: i’m on break je0ng1n: taking a dump je0ng1n: ungrateful bitch

You brandish a middle finger to the camera. “Hope the dump sucks."

je0ng1n: HEY je0ng1n: don’t even joke about that :(

An involuntary cackle precedes your next words. “If you’re actually wondering, though, the only person who’s brought me fruit while I’m playing video games is indeed my mother. Heartbreaking, I know.”

At this, the steady flow of messages morphs into a gallery of depressed cat emoticons; your audience never fails to impress you with their way with words.

“But if someone other than your disappointed parent is bringing you fruit,” you go on, “they might as well get on one knee in the process, honestly. That's such an adorable, loving thing to do.”

Suddenly, the words MATCH FOUND splash across your monitor, and you move your cursor to accept the game invite—only to be met with a pop-up window and a familiar error sound that grates on your ears like screeching tires.

You know how this story ends: the lights in your mouse go dark, and you look on in dejected silence.

je0ng1n: LMFAOOOOO je0ng1n: bro’s mouse definitely just exploded again

“You guessed it," you sigh. “Hang tight for a sec, guys."

Half an hour ago, you could’ve sworn you heard sneakers being kicked off, a set of keys falling against plastic. Now, you pull one side of your headphones off and roll your chair a few feet backward, calling through your half-open door: “Lix, are you home?”

You pick up on a soft clunk that sounds like metal hitting wood—the cutting board, maybe?—and then your housemate's low, accented answer bounces off the walls of your shared hallway.

“Yeah, you alright?”

“The mouse,” you say helplessly.

“Ah.” It’s not the first time you’ve summoned him for this. “Be right there.”

A few seconds later, you remember to tack on a hurried disclaimer: “I’m live, by the way!”

“I know.”

This brings a bashful smile to your face, though the expression quickly turns to one of pure dismay when you return to your desk and witness the disastrous state of your chat.

Felix has become a regular guest on your stream by now, always popping in to show you a TikTok or ask for your opinion on a new pair of jeans or simply give your camera an awkward wave—but he may as well own your channel with how completely and unequivocally he has captured the hearts of your viewers. They’re convinced he’s the sexiest person to ever grace the earth, with his chiseled features and coffee-colored eyes; with a grin that could set entire estates on fire and a voice that could scrape the nadir of the Grand Canyon.

Do you agree? Absolutely.

Do you have any intention of voicing this sentiment, so long as you’re splitting rent with him? Absolutely the hell not.

Another of Jeongin’s messages—GET ME HIS NUMBER OR I GET VIOLENT—inspires you to minimize the stream window before Felix gets here. It’s for the best.

A few moments later, the door opens, and the air shifts inside your room. A hand comes to rest on the top of your head; a familiar silhouette appears in your periphery. There is a fond grin plastered across your face and a bright greeting sitting readily on the tip of your tongue.

But then, Felix places a plate of freshly cut fruit in the empty space to the left of your keyboard—here, he hums, the sound falling against the shell of your ear like a drop of melted chocolate. And the gears of your brain grind to a complete stop.

There is no further acknowledgment; no supplementary explanation for what he's just done. He simply picks up your mouse and gets to work.

The words of your tweet swim dizzyingly before your eyes, not unlike those halos of stars and birds that revolve around disoriented cartoon characters. And you’re suddenly, achingly aware of your roommate's arm nudging against yours as he tinkers away; of the aromas of vanilla and laundry detergent that always come with his proximity; of the heat that’s risen to your face, and the plethora of questions that have surfaced to your mind.

A soft huff of laughter follows a gentle utterance of your name, and you snap out of your trance. Felix’s eyes are glinting with amusement when you meet them.

“It’s been recalibrated,” he says, handing back your mouse. “Just give it a few minutes.”

Your fingertips brush over his palm when you accept the object, and even this blink of contact has your heart performing an elaborate hopscotch routine across the plane of your chest.

It’s either your mom, or…

“Thank you,” you mumble, finally retrieving your larynx from the bottom of the Atlantic.

“Anytime,” Felix returns, and you know he means it. “You need a duo, by the way?"

“Yes, please.”

He gives you a warm smile at this, and there’s a hint of something else—something new—in the curve of his lips. “Give me two.” And he’s gone as quickly as he'd come.

You will never know how Felix slips his phone out of his pocket the second he emerges from your room, his pulse hounding his ears as he turns a nervous gaze upon his screen.

There is now a supersonic blur of messages saturating your chatroom, a colorful cacophony of moving emotes and capital letters, but he is focused wholly on the person in front of the camera and how you slowly lift a hand to your mouth, deathly silent despite your every viewer demanding your comment on the matter, your sanguine cheeks visible even through the gaps of your fingers.

That is all he needs to know.

Felix sinks into the leather of his gaming chair and bends to power on his computer. Only after a deep breath blows past his lips does his smile start to stretch into a grin, every bit as embarrassed as it is relieved.

je0ng1n: no way je0ng1n: no fucking way je0ng1n: my heart fluttered je0ng1n: wtf je0ng1n: how’d you pull HIM??

y/nxx has removed je0ng1n as a moderator of this channel.

𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[burningembers91]

The Baby Shower - The Salesman x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to:

Freak of Nature On Display A Game of Cat and Mouse Crime of Passion Rare Gunpowder and Lace Like a Dog Three Little Words

Synopsis: While attending your friend's baby shower, The Salesman can't help but think about what it would be like to have a family of his own. But how could he be a loving father, when the only person he's ever cared about is you?

He disliked social events, detested having to made idle conversation with people he didn’t have any interest in. The mindless small talk drove him to the brink of insanity, the idea of having to talk about cars, jobs, and how much people paid for their watches was enough to give him an aneurysm. He’d managed to avoid needless social interaction for most of his life, but now that he had you, necessity required he dip his toes into the world of dinner parties, social gatherings and idle chit chat.

As much as he loathed talking to anyone who wasn’t you, he loved you more, and he’d walked across broken glass if you told him to. “It’s only for a few hours,” you smiled, zipping up your form hugging dress. “I know you hate these things, but she is my bestfriend after all.” You knew how much he hated attending parties with you, and you felt bad for making him go. You told him that you didn’t mind if he stayed at home, but staying at home wasn’t an option for him. He needed to be close to you, a loyal dog sticking by his mistress. He couldn’t stand to be away from you, even for a minute, so he’d brave the party, just for you. Everything he did nowadays was all for you. “When we get back, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me,” you whispered, smirking at him slyly in the mirror.

He was instantly hard, the list of desires he had too long to play out in his head. You always let him take charge when you got home from a party, always allowed him to punish you for the mundane torture he’d endured surrounded by your friends. “You’ll regret saying that,” he smiled, coming to stand behind you, his hands trailing up your body to the delicate curve of your neck. He tightened his grip ever so slightly, a small moan of pleasure escaping you as his hand gently closed around your throat. “I’ve never regretted letting you punish me,” you whispered, you hand snaking behind you to gently grip his growing erection. You were locked in a stalemate, both you desperate to tease the other, to see who would break first.

“Why don’t you let me punish you now,” he growled into your ear, his teeth grazing the soft, sensitive skin of your earlobe. “I could let you attend the party with my handprints on your ass. Maybe I’ll make you walk around with no underwear on while I drip from that pretty little pussy of yours.” You were so close to relenting, to letting him have his way. But you didn’t have time to play now, you were already late. “You’ll just have to be patient,” you smiled sweetly, squeezing his aching bulge between your grasp a little tighter. He moaned into you, his face buried in your hair as your fingers worked him through his suit. Your touch was his drug, the one thing he craved more than anything in the world. “More,” he grunted, pushing himself further into your touch. His hips bucked against your hand; his eyes fixed on yours in the mirror as he chased his high. “Later,” you whispered, pulling your hand away. He groaned in frustration, his arousal evident through the fabric of his pants. “We need to get going,” you told him, grabbing your purse from its hook on the back of the bedroom door. “I can’t be late to my best friend’s baby shower.”

The party was just as dire as he’d expected, everyone laughing and chatting about the prospect of their friends’ becoming parents. He’d never felt paternal before, had never understood the fascination with bringing a child into the world. He did his duty, plastering a smile on his face, asking your friends about their jobs and their families. But then he noticed you, your hands proudly cupping your friends growing baby belly, the two of you lost in conversation. Something stirred within him, some carnal desire he’d never felt before.

He pictured you with a growing baby bump, your hands pressed to your lower back as you looked lovingly down at your belly. He imagined his hands cupping your bump protectively as you fell asleep each night, of placing soft, sweet kisses on your stretchmark covered stomach. You’d be a wonderful mother, so caring and kind. But what kind of father would he be? He wasn’t capable of loving anyone or anything other than you. He tried to push the thought from his mind, convincing himself it was just residual desire leftover from the moment in the bedroom. And yet the thoughts persisted. Thoughts of you bringing a baby home, of cradling the tiny life in your hands as you sat by the window. He was getting angry now, the incessant images of you caring for his baby weaving their way into the fibres of his brain. He couldn’t risk bringing a baby into the world, not when he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to love it.

That night, he was extra rough when he punished you. He forced you to your knees, fucking your throat with his aching, hard cock until tears streamed down your face. He bent you over the bed, spanking you until your skin turned red. He fucked you into the mattress, your face buried in the pillows as he took his frustration out on your tight, dripping core.

But after the punishment, when he’d returned to being your faithful little dog, the thoughts resumed. Thoughts of you growing his baby, thoughts of walks through the park with a stroller, of nighttime feeds and days out at soft play. The baby would be part of you both, your combined DNA. But he couldn’t choose what parts of him the baby inherited. Would they be as cold and callous as he was? Would they get kicks out of torturing and taking the lives of innocent people? Would they grow up to be just as evil as their father?

He didn’t sleep that night, his mind whirling as his thoughts consumed him. He stared down at you as you slept, your soft body pressed against his. He had no doubt you’d be a great mother.

But what kind of father would he be if he felt nothing for the life he helped create?

[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

[one] [two]

18+ minors do not interact!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sung? Sung!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck even was that? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit, shit, shit. 

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

“Hello?” 

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

“Sung?” 

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

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

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

He hears you yawn and smiles fondly. 

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

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

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

God, no, he thinks.  

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

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

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

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

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

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could it be… No. No way. 

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

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

“Park Jisung?” 

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

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

“You’re welcome, Professor.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Will we be able to select our partners?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

“She was obnoxious, you have no idea!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

I know! He thinks. 

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

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

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

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

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

“No!” Wow. Good going, Jisung.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How so?” 

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

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

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

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

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

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah… he’ll think more on that later. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like an e-date?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

“I like you, too.” 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 6:49PM

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

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 8:22 PM

you’re so cute

i can barely think 

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 9:14 PM

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

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 10:58 PM

i should get to sleep 

but i don’t wanna stop texting you

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 12:02 AM

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

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

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

“Your partner will be,” 

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

 “Lee Chan.” 

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

“Your constellation is-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this seat taken?” 

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

“No.” He replies shortly. 

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

“You’re Ji-sun, right?” 

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

“W-what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any of those work for me,” 

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

“Sure.” 

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

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

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

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

Feeling slightly more confident, he types up his message. 

To: 555-111-0205

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

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

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

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

“Hi-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, right.” Chenle scoffs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Computer Lab 4C?” 

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

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

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

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

To: 555-111-0205

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jisung? You okay?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You live close by?” 

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

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

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

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

 “I’ll see you in class?” he asks. 

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

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

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

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

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

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

“Hi…” 

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

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

“I-thanks but,” 

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

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

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

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

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—then she’ll be there, too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you know if Chaewon is here?” 

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

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

“Yo, what do you mean bounce?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mark, there’s so many girls here.” 

“I know, but—” 

“But Chaewon.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you I don’t wanna—Jisung?” 

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

“What are you doing out here?” 

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

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

“I’m fine—“ 

“This should help,” 

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

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

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

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

“How about the library?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you nod eagerly, “let’s go.” 

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

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

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

“Foul.” 

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

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

“I can tell. You’re stumbling.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Jisung.” 

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

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

“Yeah, I’m almost done!”

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

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

“You’re Ji-sun, right?” 

“—Sung.”

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

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

Could it be… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” 

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

“Sung? Right? That’s you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Since when did you know it was me?” 

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

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

“I was so excited when I found out,” 

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

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

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

“You’re really pretty in person.” 

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

“What’s that—” 

“Oh nothing! It’s just—” 

“Is that my cardigan?” 

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

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

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

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

“Jisung.” 

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

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

“I-” 

“Were you?” You ask sternly. 

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

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

“Show me.”

*. * ·

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

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

[drdawnbreaker]

𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 ☆ 𝐑𝐄𝟒!𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧

Summary: You had one job and three rules. And you broke every single one.

Word count: 2.18k

Genre: Smut. Mafia Au.

Pairing: MobBoss!Leon x PrivateDriver!Reader

Warnings: Swearing. Gun violence. Some angst. Mention of death. Leon’s a bit bloody. Blood (obviously). Unprotected sex. Car sex. Squirting. Light-hearted banter. Hinting of sex work and abuse (doesn't go into detail). Speeding. Car chase. Fingering. Fucking while driving (don't do this). Pet names

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"So you like to drive cars? Or just for me?" His voice was deep, smooth like vintage whiskey. You could see his eyes stare you down through the rear view mirror.

"Mr. Kennedy, I can reassure you that you are one of my favourite people to drive for. But try not to boost your own ego. I do drive for others and ride other things other than your car." You didn't even smile, knowing exactly how to play this cat and mouse game that all Mob bosses do. But Leon was different in a way. You felt a thrill bloom in your tummy whenever his eyes were on you.

"Ride other things? Like what?" He sipped his liquor, legs spreading wider, with one hand resting dangerously close to his crotch.

"Mr Kennedy. Don't flatter yourself." You smirked.

"Oh no, i want to hear it, darling. What else would you find enjoyable to ride?" He shot the last of his drink, his hand evidently palming his clothed hard-on.

"I think you already know the answer sir."

"Hmm," was all he responded with.

-

That night you’d fuck yourself on your dildo with the idea of Leon palming himself while you drove. The way his soft pants and whimpers were stuck in your brain, playing on repeat as he continued to pleasure himself while you drove him home. You couldn’t have dropped him off sooner, cause you swore he was going to cum in his pants if he kept going.

‘Until next time, bunny.’

His voice was so smooth. Deep. You know you were playing a dangerous game by becoming involved with a client much less a feared mob boss that would kill someone that looked at him the wrong way. But the way he looked at you through the mirror every time you drove him. He was always so happy to see you, chatting about anything to keep his mind off his work. You were an escape for him. Something that was a reminder he was supposed to be this angry man twenty-four-seven. No, he could, laugh, tease, flirt, with you and you’d either shut him down or egg him on. Both of which rial him up even more.

The idea of touching you, having you. Even if it was for one night, it was becoming increasingly more tempting. But alas, he knew you. You are professional, and you wouldn’t disobey your company’s rules.

Do not sleep with the clients.

But something deep in your soul was screaming at you that all of your morality was about to go out the window. You were sent to pick up a client on a south port right after they had finished some trade. Well, that was the plan, at least, but here you were sitting an hour later after the supposed pick-up. This is getting ridiculous. You thought, shifting in your seat, trying to keep your muscles awake. What is taking him so long?

You knew of the client. Some lowlife trying to make it big in the mafia world. How he managed to hire you was a mystery. Maybe a debt is being paid? Or some sweet talking. But then again, from what you heard, he had neither up his sleeve. You closed your eyes for a moment, just a moment, trying to rest the tired feeling you were experiencing behind your temple. Everything was quiet, peaceful almost… Well, that was until you heard a gunshot, then two more following it.

You sat up and looked around frantically, spotting a few men rushing out of the large barn that sat by the waterfront. They were chasing a man, a scruffy blonde, looking like..—it’s Leon… it’s Leon S. fucking Kennedy.

The side door opened to a bloody-looking man with a feverious smile. His adrenaline was pumping to the point that you could see the veins in his neck bulging. His gun was still tight in his grip, wiping his brow with the back of the same hand. “I need you to get us out of here, princess.”

“I..B-but. Wait. My client…” You were so confused, not even registering you started the car. The men that had been chasing Leon were hot on your tail, so you began to floor it through the back roads of the port.

“Uh, yeah, well. He’s dead. He didn’t like the deal I offered and the bitch thought he could beat it out of me. ME! The king of fucking Raccoon City. Fucking arrogant pig.” San rambled but you barely heard what he had to say about the client. No, all you could think about was getting the fuck out of dogged and away from any of the crooks Leon managed to piss off. But then again pissing people off seemed like Leon’s specialty.

“Where do I even go from here those bastards are probably tracking my fucking car.” You’ve never spoken so out of line before in front of a client but here you were. Leon just raked his fingers through his dirty hair, licking his busted lip.

“Why would they be tracking us.” Leon started searching through the glove departments for any signs of a tracker, but you just huffed, clutching the wheel tighter before almost screaming at him.

“They would be tracking us ‘cause they are the ones that own this fucking car and I was supposed to drive their fucking boss to a fucking safe house you idiot.” You didn’t mean to blow up but the tension became so thick in the vehicle you felt like you had no choice. Leon sat still for a moment, never hearing someone call him out of his stupidity before other than his right hand, Ada. The silence was making your skin crawl, making you suddenly aware you just yelled at a mob boss. A mob boss that was definitely packing some kind of weapon…The fucking king of Raccoon City as he put it. You suddenly felt a hand touch your thigh making your whole body jump and the car almost swerved off the road.

“Well go on. Get us out of here, darling.” His voice was smooth and collected. It made your head spin. “B-but the track—If we get far enough, the tracker won’t reach, and then we can dump the car and run." Leon chuckled, turning back to stare at the road. You, on the other hand, were struggling to keep focus on the tar in front of you. He hasn't moved his fucking hand…

You started to speed up, swerving through the small amounts of traffic. You kept eyeing the rear-view mirror checking your back, and you noticed several cars tailing you.

Bastards.

You took a sharp left, causing Leon to shift in his seat and his hand that was perched on your thigh to slide up higher. You visibly shivered, making Leon aware of where his hand went. He just smirked, "Such a good girl. Getting me out of here. Remind me, why you don't drive for me permanently again?"

"Cause you flirt too much and I'm…" you felt his finger brush against your inner thigh… "I-I'm in a contract with the company I work for."

"Hmmm, well, you know I'm pretty good at making contracts disappear." He dared to reach further, and you were delusional enough to open your legs a little for him.

"H-he'd kill me. I can't leave." There was so much more in your contract that Leon didn't know of, but he could think of a few things the scum bag made you do. You have a passion for driving and driving fast. And he used that to get you to do other shit for him. Bastard.

"You won't have to ever do anything for him ever again. Come home with me. I'll look after you. Let you ride any of my cars… and anything else you might want…" he leaned towards your tense frame, seeing your knuckles turn white from how hard you held the wheel. "I'd give you the moon if you asked, darling. Anything you want you’ll get, my best girl."

Best girl…. oh, now your head is definitely spinning. Your foot hit the gas harder, reaching a long stretch of dirt road. Sitting at 90, you jumped to 120. "L-Leon…"

He popped the button of your dress pants, slipping his fingers delectably down until they grazed your bare core.

125km/h

"You like to be called my Best girl, huh? Just need some praise, princess?" His breath tickled as he licked a strip along your neck up to your ear, biting your ear lobe. All the while, his hand dipped further, running his long finger along your slit. "Fuck your soaked baby. Wet for me baby?" He chuckled, deeply.

You bit your lip, trying so hard not to close your eyes. "Leon p-please." You didn't know why you said that, but it was all you could think of. He pushed the pad of his finger against your clit, rubbing in slow little circles.

130km/h

"God you know how much I've thought about this pussy. How much I've dreamt about fucking her, tasting her. I bet you taste like fucking honey darling." His finger slid into your aching hole, making you gasp.

135km/h

Your watery eyes looked through the rear-view mirror, seeing no one behind you anymore, just a thick dust cloud created in your wake. You felt his finger slip in and out of you, making you open your legs wider for him. He chuckled, kissing your neck more until.

You slammed on the brakes, drifting the car through the dirt until it spun around and stopped in a sharp huff. Everything happened so quickly, but it was like you and Leon were in sync. Undoing your belts, he pulled his chair's brake, pulling the seat backwards so he had more leg room and was angled so you could climb on top of him.

Your lips captured his in a hot and messy kiss while his hand worked his belt and pants, slipping them down just enough so his naked ass could rest on the leather and his cock slapped against his clothed abdomen. You pulled your pants off while still in your seat. Ditching your slip-on sneakers before climbing onto his lap.

He gripped your blouse, ripping it off so the button flew everywhere. Neither of you cared though. Not as his lips latched on the top of your breasts, tugging your bra down so your tits could spill over the top. "Fuck,"

He groans as he catches a glimpse of your body. You are perfect, better than he imagined. "This was not how I wanted to ravish you."

"Yes, it was, don't fucking lie." You cut him off with another kiss. In truth, you were right. He had many dreams of fucking you senselessly in one or all of his vehicles. Maybe even on his bike, too.

"It's the thought that counts." He laughed against your lips.

"Shut up." You pulled your panties aside, sinking your fingers inside yourself. Leon watched in awe as you stretched yourself out on top of his twitching cock. And as if you could get more perfect, you moaned his name while doing it.

"Fuck your gorgeous." He slammed his head back against the chair and groaned as he bucked his hips up to try and get some kind of friction. But what he didn't expect was to feel your hand wrap tightly around his aching shaft. "Jesus fuck.."

It was your turn to giggle now, shifting your weight you lined your soaking entrance to his red angry cock tip, letting him breach your walls with a pop. You slowly sank down on his inch by inch. His hands flew for your hips, helping you bottom him out. "L-Leeonnnn y-you're huge. Fuck."

"Don't say shit like that. I-Fuck.. I won't last." His eyes hazily gazed to where you were connected feeling you pull up, then slam back down onto his cock. You circled your hips, drawing loud moans from both of you. Your hands fly to his shoulders, bringing his body closer to yours. Chest to chest. Leon nuzzled his face into your neck, taking a large inhale through his nose. He could smell your sweet perfume mixing with the lewd scent of sex.

"So perfect." He mumbled, bracing his feet to the floor before jackhammering into your soaked cunt. Your screams were muffled against his neck as his pace became ruthless and harsh. Your hips moved out of sync with his thrusts, perfectly letting you grind your clit against his pelvis, sending electricity up your spine.

"Leon, I'm gonna cum. Please let me cum." You whimpered, biting down on his shoulder fearing to draw blood.

"Yes, cum baby. I want to feel you cum around my cock. Be a good girl." He groaned, holding you tighter, feeling his own high creeping closer. Your tummy tugged tight and snapped. Your hips stilling, taking Leon’s abusive thrusts as you squirted all over his lap.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck." Leon slammed deep inside you, splurting his seed inside you, painting your walls with his cream. He kisses your shoulder, legs slightly shaking as he empties his load. You just laid there, taking every drop. Your pussy clenched around him, hissing at the sensitivity. Your fingers were laced in his hair, and his making shapes on your sweat-still clothed back.

"I broke the rules…" You whispered. Leon felt a little guilty that he made you break the rules of your company. He tainted you, and he was sorry for it. You'd never get another job as a driver if people found out you slept with a client. "You made me go over 140. You're lucky there weren't cops out here."

Oh, you weren’t complaining about sleeping with him.

"That's what you're worried about." San had to laugh, hugging your figure tighter as he chuckled against your neck.

"Yes, I could have crashed and fucked the car."

"Yeah, instead, you just fucked me." You sat up and slapped his chest for that comment.

-

© DrDawnBreaker. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

[777heavengirl]

AM - Chapter 2

No. 1 Party Anthem

Sirius Black x reader Chapter 2/3 Warnings: angst?, smoking, suggestive themes, fwb to lovers word count: 4,294  masterlist

Currently playing: No. 1 Party Anthem by the Arctic Monkeys

Chapters i, ii, iii

        Sirius Black was not a somber man. He was known for being loud, rambunctious, insufferable, incorrigible. His voice echoed and his eyes shone when he laughed. He did not wallow nor turn gloomy. He had suffered too much in his life for that. But you had turned his life blue. Your absence left a hole in his heart. It had been three months. Three arduous months of a game of cat and mouse. You avoided him at any cost, clinging off of your boyfriend's arm more often than not. Sirius seemed to always be searching for you. 

He felt the rush of adrenaline as he finished his drink in one gulp, it had tasted horribly bitter at the beginning of the night. Now he couldn't taste it at all. He had been on the prowl the whole night. For you, just to catch a peek of you would be enough. To hear your laughter would soothe his growing anxiety and the paranoia that you were out of his life for good. He'd do anything for a glimpse of you. He wondered if you had come and left already. The thought settled in his heart like a pile of rocks. 

Sirius could feel the beat of the music in his chest it overpowered the beat of his own heart and the ringing in his ears wouldn't stop. Between the lights on the floor and the sweat that seemed to permeate the walls. He felt like he was searching for his soul, tumbling between people, staring too hard to see if it was you through the darkness. It kept slipping from his fingers. You kept slipping. 

He hated this point of getting drunk. He hated the way he knew there was no way back from this threshold. No matter how much water he drank or bread Peter fed him there was no way back. He hated that he still had the itch to get more because he might as well be completely pissed. He'd feel sick regardless. He felt his heart beating in his ears as he finally laid eyes on you. A cigarette hanging from your lips even indoors. You had been smoking a lot more. He had found and monitored the pile of cigarette butts in a corner of the astronomy tower. The only trace of you he could ever find these days.

He wondered if you were happy.

The fun-colored drink in your hand swished and swirled as you laughed, the blond gripping your hip. He could see James across from you, laughing and chatting spiritedly. No doubt recounting some dumb story, Lily shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. They had finally gotten together. Or so he thought. He felt like a terrible friend. He couldn't think straight. He caught James's eye, he hoped he'd come get him. 

Sirius felt like his feet were slowly being cemented into the ground. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, the only grounding force as the mass of people around him overtook his senses. 

"Let's go Padfoot, you need a walk," Remus whispered into his ear, worry seeping through his skin, his demeanor. Sirius felt the beat and the melancholic lyrics that were starting to resonate through the charmed speakers clutched his heart with an iron grip. He shook his head furiously, he couldn't go. Not when he had just found you. Just when he had finally seen the light. It had been like catching a glimpse of a star in the middle of a stormy night. 

"Come on Moony-" Sirius moaned out, his eyes barely open, barely registering the scarred boy's figure. "Before she's gone before the moments gone-"

Remus dragged Sirius away regardless. He wasn't going to be making much sense if he spoke to you anyway. Remus felt bad, sometimes he'd hear Sirius mumble your name in his sleep. It was fleeting and slurred but after the third time it happened, his wand illuminating only the page of the book he was reading, Remus knew it was indeed your name. 

The Ravenclaw common room entrance was directly connected to a staircase, Sirius's head lulled to the side colliding with Remus's shoulder. Neither of them dared actually to go down the stairs. 

"Up, come on pads,” Remus finally got Sirius upright but turned as the door opened once again, the chatter and music from inside spilling into the hall briefly.

"Is he good?" James shut the door behind him,

"I'm doing great Prongs I just need a smoke," Sirius had wandered over to the small stone window, breathing in the fresh night air. He briefly thought of throwing up. 

Remus sighed offering Sirius a cigarette, rolling his eyes as James's lips resembled an 'o' in surprise. 

"I thought we were all collectively quitting?" James put out his hand, fingertips tingling with excitement. Lily didn't like it. James had quit way before they got together anyway.

One wouldn't kill him. Remus placed it on his palm. 

"Where's Wormtail?" Sirius turned to look at the two other men, a, now lit, cigarette hanging from each of their lips.

"Last I saw, chatting up Dorcas Meadowes," James chuckled as he blew out some smoke,

"I reckon he doesn't know she's a wee lesbian" Remus mumbled from between his cigarette

The other two broke out in a roar of laughter, they loved Peter dearly but he could be a bit clueless sometimes. 

"Marls is going to kill him," James clutched his stomach as he laughed. Sirius threw his head back as he continued to laugh, his forearms supporting him as they leaned on the window ledge. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes as he continued to laugh. The world still spun around him. But the sound of his friend’s laughter grounded him. He hadn't felt like this in a while. 

As they all calmed down again, snorts and chuckles still bouncing every so often, they continued to take drags of smoke. 

"What's been going on with you lately?" James's voice was low, a heavier tone than the one that usually laced his tone. Brows furrowed in concern and his free hand was tucked into the pocket of his jeans. Remus stomped out his cig with his chucks, crossing his arms as he looked in between the two other men. He could feel the air become thick, as Sirius mulled over the question and continued to hang his head out the window, letting the air blow at his short curls. They reached a little under cheekbones now, he was relieved.

Remus felt his knit sweater was going to suffocate him. 

James thought of repeating his question.

"Is she happy?" Sirius finally broke the silence, taking the last drag of his cig before he also stomped it out. The ashes and the rocky floor grinding under his heavy boot. He was starting to regret wearing only a black shirt to cover his torso, the short sleeves had been cuffed and he could feel the cold night air pick at the skin of his arms. 

"I don't think it's fair for you to question that," James mumbled. He loved Sirius. He did. He was his brother, his closest confidant. He’d been trying to convince him to run away and stay with him. His mother had a room prepared already. He'd do anything for the boy. 

But brothers or not. Sirius was a fool. He had been for a while now. He could see the look on Sirius’s face. The look of love.

“Do you think it’s too late-“ 

“That’s even more unfair,” Remus thought of lighting a second cigarette. He didn’t.

”I need a drink,” Sirius stood upright again, his forearms marked and itched with the stamp of the edge of the window. 

Before either Remus or James could deny Sirius his itch, the door to the Ravenclaw common room opened again, this time with Peter stumbling out.

”Did we know Dorcas was a lesbian?” 

-

You didn't care that Sirius was ignoring you. You didn't care that he never glanced your way, or that he left when you came. You didn't care that you had seen a girl coming out of their dorm two weeks ago. You didn't care about him. You had a boyfriend now, a boy who cared about you and made you smile and blush. Someone who wanted you for more than just sex. Jacob was sweet, he brought you daisies and taffy. Even if you didn't adore either of those things. He always put his arm around your waist and he had started dragging you to be with his friends more often than not. You suspected he had realized he wasn't exactly popular around yours. 

You wondered sometimes, between cigarettes, if you were happy.

You hated smoking.

Jacob hated you smoking too. You pondered the psychology of your actions as you pulled one out of your pocket. He flicked your arm when he saw the stick between your fingers. If only he knew how many packs you had been running through. You ignored his glare, opting for lighting it, even if you were inside. Not like anyone would notice in the overcrowded, obscure Ravenclaw common room. Bastards had the best spot, couldn't hear anything coming from the common room for at least two flights of stairs. Horrendous to go up or down when intoxicated, however.

Lily smiled pleasantly while hanging from James's arm. They were cute, you were delighted they finally got together. It was almost like it was meant to be. You couldn't help but feel your stomach churn when she spoke of the fireworks and butterflies that lived in her chest from his look alone. Lately, life had been feeling like a pile of rocks had settled in your stomach. The dread that came with every touch and every kiss. You wondered if there was something wrong with you. You felt vaguely bored. You pushed down the thought, hoping it wouldn't crawl out again.

You weren't listening much to James, the story he had dug up to entertain his new girlfriend, and your new boyfriend was something you had lived alongside him. No point in tuning in, he had it covered.

You felt Jacob squeeze your hip. Your eyes searched the crowd, you knew what, or well who, you were looking for but you were afraid to even acknowledge it to yourself. The cold glass of your drink made your fingers numb and tingly. You wondered if he had even come tonight.

You laughed as your boyfriend did, as if on cue. You glanced at James, whose eyes flickered to someone in the crowd. You saw his smile falter.

"Y/N how about you finish the story," He finally focused back, handing Lily his drink with a kiss on her head. He left, his body weaving in and out of the crowd, without much of an excuse. You smiled awkwardly at the two people in front of you. You wanted nothing more than to hand Jacob your drink and cig to follow James out. Well, maybe not the cig.

"Flippant man isn't he?" Jacob directed a small smile towards you. You offered a very wobbly one back. You thanked the heavens as Lily left, mumbling something about Marlene having Peter by the scruff of his collar. 

Jacob’s face flashed with recognition, his hand going up as to call someone's attention. He grabbed your waist with a simple let's go and dragged you around the crowd like a rag doll. You finished your drink, the shimmery liquid burning at the back of your throat and your glass sat forgotten on some piece of furniture for someone else to find. Your now smushed cigarette sat at the bottom of the glass. You greeted Jacob's friends warmly, a small shy small playing on your lips.

You tried, you truly did but either the alcohol or the knowledge of your friends being outside wouldn't let you focus on the conversation. Jacob's friends weren't bad, just not your type of crowd. You caught a glimpse of three out of the four marauders coming back in. James immediately made a beeline for Lily, a very sweaty Peter under his arm as he noted Marlene's presence. Remus trailed slowly behind the two. Sirius was nowhere in sight.

"I'll be right back, I gotta go to the loo," you knew your lie had reached the blond as he let go of your waist with a small smile. You pushed through the crowd, avoiding your group of friends. The door was all you could focus on. The man who was possibly on the other side. You weren’t sure he was even there. You didn’t know if you were hoping he was. So you went, the cold night air immediately forcing your lungs to expand. The hall smelled like cigarette smoke. The door closed behind you and it was finally silent.

"Don't I know you from somewhere?" Sirius looked at you through his dark lashes, a small smirk on his face. 

"I thought we said we'd quit," your mumbled statement was meant as a joke, both of you just trying to break the icy barrier you had built between you. There wasn't a cigarette in sight.

"Your pile on the astronomy tower says otherwise" you winced, "does your little boyfriend know? I reckon he doesn't like the thought of his pretty girl frying her lungs with a cig"

You stared at him silently, your teeth biting at the inside of your cheek. You regretted finishing your drink. You pulled out the box of Player's No. 6 instinctively. 

"If you don't put it away, I'm going to throw it out the window," Sirius was drunk, he made sense but he felt like he couldn't look at you straight. He closed his eyes briefly. He sort of felt like was melting into the wall. The pack silently went into your pocket again.

"You know it's not like I'm falling in love," you didn't know why you said that.

"I didn't ask that love," you wondered if you were drunk. You observed Sirius, the way his jaw clenched, his tongue running over his teeth as he went deep in thought, eyes still closed. You trudged closer to him, forearms resting against the windowsill. You wanted to kiss him. You felt sick.

"I hate you," you mumbled as he laughed and shuffled closer. Shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. You looked out the window, he stared at the door, body leaning against the stone wall. 

"The same way you hate cigarettes?" He whispered this, his head turning towards yours. He didn't know what he hoped to hear. You were mere inches apart, his warmth mixing with yours, you wondered if you'd get a shock if you touched him. He fought the urge to press his lips against yours. 

"Yes, the same way" You felt the words scratch at your throat. He felt closer than ever, he moved a bit, and you held your breath. His lips pressed against your cheekbone. Right next to a little beauty mark. Soft and light but enough to tie a knot in your throat. You didn't want to cry in front of him again. You felt intoxicated.

"He won't be happy if he sees us," he parted a bit after he whispered this fact, his eyes darting to the closed door. He pressed another kiss to your cheek, this one closer to the corner of your lips. You pushed him playfully with your shoulder. You missed him.

"Do you think he'll break up with me?" you felt as pathetic as when you asked the opposite question three months ago. you frowned. It squeezed Sirius's heart in hope, he didn't answer though. But he didn't have to, you laughed and soon he did too. You laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. You clutched your stomach and stumbled a bit, laughter spilling from your lips like a river. He hoped to hear you laugh like this forever. He’d never get tired of the sound. 

You discovered that Sirius found it equally as hilarious. Tears gathered in his eyes as he laughed, he laughed endlessly, his usual chuckles or boisterous laugh missing. No, this was unfiltered, his sides hurt and he snorted sending the two of you into another fit. 

Your body ached in laughter. Your heart ached for him. You wondered if he thought of you. 

You thought of him every day.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you slowly stopped laughing. 

"You're no good Sirius Black," he could feel his heart flip as your lips said the syllables of his name "You'll do me no good." He pressed his shoulder into yours, turning to kiss the top of your head. It felt like an apology. Like an I'm sorry love, for every time he pretended not to want you, for every time he took you for granted, for letting it get this far, for not remembering or caring or loving. 

You didn't know what he actually meant with it. The door opened again, and the first thing you noticed was the frown on his face. Then the angry red of his cheeks as your boyfriend stomped closer to you. You had never noticed how Sirius was a bit taller.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," his grip on your arm was asphyxiating. You felt like your heart was plummeting down to your stomach. 

"I'm sorry I got distracted," your mumble was blue and laced with regret. Sirius considered taking the swing he'd been pondering about for months. He refrained.

"Let's just go" Jacob pulled you along, down the stairs. Not without sending Sirius a glare over his shoulder. He could hear how the boy talked about him the whole way down, shooting question after question, the why were you there with him's, and the can't even take my eyes off of you's not letting you speak. He hoped you'd look back.

You didn't. You couldn't.

You'd cry if you did.

You wondered if you were supposed to feel this way. Like the sheets were the only thing that could save you. You felt like your bed was stuck on you.

Lily was a sea of worry.

"He's outside the common room he won't stop asking Marls where you are and why you aren't coming down," she sat at the side of your bed. It had been about five days since the party. Since you laughed with Sirius. Since you concluded that you wouldn't. No, that you couldn't be happy without him. "You know how she gets, she's already exasperated."

You've been avoiding your boyfriend like the plague and your heartstrings pulled against your will. You felt bad, you thought you could just forget about Sirius, forget his looks, his touches, his kisses. You felt like the worst person on the planet. You had turned your once kind, sweet boyfriend into a jealous mess. He wasn’t the nicest anymore but you couldn’t blame him. Because it was obvious. More than you had thought. How often your thoughts strayed, how often you thought of Sirius. You knew the real reason your friends didn't exactly love him was because he wasn't Sirius. Because every person on the planet except the bastard himself could tell you were in love with Sirius Black.

Sirius didn't want you though, did he?

"Sweetie, what do you want me to tell him?" Lily in all her caring nature brushed her fingers through your hair. 

"Just tell him I'm really sick and that I'll send an owl or something Lils," you sighed "Just get rid of him before Marls says something insensitive"

Lily laughed "I'm afraid that's already happened but I'll see what I can do.”

As Lily left you thought about Sirius. About what your non-relationship was before. How you lounged around his bed for hours on weekends. Mostly naked as a baby, you would talk for hours. You’d always have sex of course and you’d hardly spend the night, but you would sneak over earlier rather than later, so 'we get the whole day love'. Sirius wouldn’t let you go until dinner was being served and you whined about hunger.

The way he’d kissed you the first time, slow and steady with his hands cupping the back of your head. you were bordering on tipsy. he said he had been wildly drunk but you knew from Remus he had only really had one or two drinks. This was one of the things that made the uneasiness start to prey on you. The way he would subtly kick you out, asking you if you wanted to go to dinner or leaving with you just for you to end up going different ways at the end of the night. The way he’d only kiss you on your lips every so often. The way it was a badly kept secret but a secret nonetheless.

You wondered what was missing from you. Was it something about the way you looked? or worse your personality? You had agonized over your appearance for months. You asked Lily about the trendy muggle workout videos. She had laughed as if you had said something silly.

At first, you thought why Sirius, it would’ve been anyone really. Insecurity was a wild beast, hard to satiate and even worse when it was something as transactional as sex with seemingly no meaning beyond pleasure. why did you decide to kiss him that night? had he kissed you first? you honestly couldn’t remember anymore. 

You stared daggers into the bracelet on your wrist. what had he given your other friends? you wondered about the price as if it would help the urge to feel wanted.

You missed Sirius Black because you were in love with him. Because he was one of your closest friends. You missed his stupid smirks and teases. The way he used to tuck a stray hair behind your ear and kiss the corner of your mouth. You missed sitting next to him at breakfast with his hand always touching your thigh in some way and the way he always saved you your favorite foods. Sneaking into the kitchens because you had missed dinner. He always refused to let you leave his bed until he decided it was enough.

But his body betrayed him until his eyes were droopy with sleep and he’d have to find some force to get up so you wouldn’t end up falling asleep together. 

You missed the way his fingers traced your naked back and the way he’d whisper secrets in French. He always refused to tell you what they meant.

You felt your cheeks dampened and wondered when you had started crying. You were tired of this, you needed everything to stop. Marlene and Lily came bursting into the room, bickering about Marlene’s temper. 

“Well he deserved it-“ Marlene grumbled and a small smile formed on your lips.

”Why is that Marls?” your pleasant smile faltered as the two girls looked at each other nervously. 

“Well it might be best if you talk to him-“

”Oh sod off Lillian she deserves to know,” Lily scowled at the name as Marlene went on “Your boyfriend's a wanker, he got all hot and flustered and had the balls to get in my face” 

You scowled, Jacob didn’t seem like the type. He was sweet and quiet most of the time. You wondered where he had been hiding this temper. You felt the guilt start to bite at your fingertips. Marlene continued,

”He kept talking about how you were probably with Sirius, he kept screaming can you believe it? He was screaming!” Marlene spoke so fast you felt like you couldn’t keep up. “He kept screaming about how you were hiding out in his room, and how you were a- well”

“I think that’s enough Marlene”

“and James well… he came out,” Marlene ignored Lily, but opted for omitting what your very upset boyfriend had rambled on about. Probably for the best, you thought.

”Oh Merlin,”

”He punched him!” You jumped from your bed, eyes wide as Marlene started to giggle but she quickly stopped as you gestured for her to explain. Lily glared at her and Marlene suppressed a smile. 

Lily turned to you, “I just think you need to talk to him directly, he’s in the hospital wing”

”Where’s James?” they both looked at each other, worry in their eyes. Marlene fidgeted with her ring.

“Slughorn took him, we’re hoping McGonagall will get involved at least,” Lily chewed on her lip nervously “It might help”

You sighed as you flopped back down to your bed. Everything was falling apart. You felt like you were falling apart. James wouldn't have gotten physical unless it was needed. He was always so relaxed, sure he always had a witty comment on the tip of his tongue, always some smart bullshit to spew. But to get physical? You couldn't help but still be grateful for him. For whatever the reason was.

Your thoughts strayed to Sirius,

You felt your eyes water again, hot with tears. You couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of it all.

Tags ! (lmk if they don’t work or if u wanna be added) :

@beekeepingageissome,

[yuujispinkhair]

Gamer boyfie Kuna headcanons

These headcanons are inspired by @windlullaby-arts super sexy fanart of gamer boyfie Kuna. You said you would like someone to write about him, so I did it ;) I hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much for blessing us with that sexy art!!

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + smut Word Count: 1.2k Warnings: 18+, smut, cockwarming, dirty talk, creampie, oral, cum-eating, possessive Sukuna, implied possibility of getting overheard during sex. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who looks so cool and so sexy, sitting there dressed all in black with his cute cat-ear headset, eyes focused on the game he is playing. But when you walk into the room, he always has time to wink at you and make a kissy face.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who is so proud when his teammates hear you through his mic and ask if that is his girl.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who loves to show you off when he asks you to join him and his boys for a game. But who gets possessive when they talk too much to you and try to hit on you in the chat. "Back off, I know she is perfect, but she is mine. You wouldn't stand a chance against me anyways."

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who smirks so smugly when you walk over to him and press a kiss onto his cheek afterward, whispering in his ear that he is your only, while he starts the next round with his online friends, who complain that they already miss you.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who grins when you crawl under his desk and unbuckle his belt and open the zipper of his skinny black jeans. Who bites his lip when his thick cock slaps against your face before you take his gorgeous dark-pink tip in your mouth and suckle so sweetly on it.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who tries his best to play a good game, even while you blow him under his desk. But in the end, he can't hold back and just fucks your mouth. One large hand lands in your hair, tugging on it, and his hips buck while he moans, "Fuck yeah, princess, that was worth losing that round."

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who, under normal circumstances, plays to win and, in most cases, does win because he is good at everything he does. But on the rare occasions when he loses a game (without you being the cause), he will throw a fit. Flaming everyone, getting banned, throwing his mouse against the wall, and then complaining when it doesn't work anymore.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who isn't scary in those situations, though, but rather ridiculous because he becomes so dramatic. And you know he would never shout at you or hurt you. To you, he is always the sweetest devil, purring like a kitten when you coo at him and scratch his undercut, and run your fingers through his slightly sweaty pink hair. "Aww baby, did you lose a game?"

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who sighs and pulls you onto his lap, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and telling you something about how those other guys clearly used cheats! Because it cannot be that a gaming God like Sukuna loses!

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who needs lots of kisses to get over the defeat. Strong, tattoed arms wrap tightly around you, keeping you on his lap while he licks into your mouth with his pierced tongue until your head spins.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who whispers hoarsely in your ear, telling you to stay on his lap while he starts a new game. It feels so good to snuggle against him, feeling his firm muscles under his shirt and his toned arms encircling you.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who gets hard when he has you so cutely on his lap in your little skirt, feeling your warm pussy press against him through your thin panties and his jeans.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who slips a hand into your panties while waiting for the game to load, playing with your pussy until he has you whimpering and squirming on his lap.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who smirks and pulls your panties to the side, murmuring to you softly, "Keep me sweet company, princess. Wanna feel your pretty pussy on my cock, keeping me nice and warm while I own all those losers."

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who tells you your pussy is his good luck charm. "See, I can play even better when you sit on my cock, my sweet thing."

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who makes you whine because it feels so good to cockwarm him while he plays round after round, your pussy stuffed with his thick cock, feeling so full and so loved when you snuggle against him and just feel him.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who looks at you with a passionate fire in his eyes when he is finished playing, and his large hands land on your thighs, kneading them while he rolls his hips upwards to push his thick cock deeper into your wet heat.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who tells you in that sexy low voice to ride him right here on his gaming chair. "Let's celebrate my success with a victory fuck. Thank you for being my lucky charm, baby."

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who looks so sexy when he lets his head fall back against the headrest of his gaming chair, his cat-ear headset askew, eyes closed in pleasure, and lips opening in soft groans, while you ride him.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who smiles when you get up from his lap afterward, with wobbly legs and his warm cum running down your thighs. He doesn't let you get far but stops you with his strong hands, making you sit on his desk, pushing your thighs apart so he can lick your pussy clean, driving you crazy with his tongue piercing against your clit.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who also loves to play games with you, basking in the quality time you spend together. He is always very biased towards you and lets you get away with everything, letting you win and get the loot. No matter how ambitious he is, when it comes to you, he is fine with losing.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who thinks it's incredibly cute when you take his place and sit on his gaming chair wearing his cat-ear headset, playing the games you enjoy.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who spends hours playing on your account to unlock a special achievement for you so you get the mount you want so bad. Who grins broadly at you when he calls out to you, "Hey, princess, come here and look what I got for you!"

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who laughs softly when you squeal and throw your arms around him. "Oh my God, Kuna!! Thank you so much, baby! But this must have taken hours!" And Sukuna just smirks that irrrestible, sexy smirk and tells you in that velvety voice, "You know I would do anything for you, princess."

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who always makes sure to log off after a while and spend some time with his girl because, after all, you are his favorite toy, and playing with your pretty pussy gives him more satisfaction than any game could.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who hopefully turned his mic off before he fucks you hard on his bed, or everyone will hear your cute moans, letting them know how good he fucks you and that you only belong to him.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who doesn't just take a break from gaming to fuck you but also to take you on cute dates, or cook with you, or just lie on the couch with you, his big body curled around you, hugging you from behind, cuddling and kissing you while you watch your favorite shows together.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, whose top priority will always be you. His princess, his love, his player 2.

HE GIVES ME BUTTERFLIES 😭😭😭 Thank you so much for reading! Seeing that gorgeous fanart drove me crazy!! I went into obsession mode and couldn't stop writing, and suddenly it was dark outside lol. Now I want to sit on his lap the whole time while he plays aaaaahhhhh!!!

I hope you like gamer boyfie Kuna!! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

[waitforyrlove]

slytherin ! matt catches reader in his room after losing a bet.

PART TWO.

you curse yourself for agreeing to this ridiculous bet. It had seemed like harmless fun at the time, something to get your friends off your back about always playing it safe. But now, standing outside the threshold of the Slytherin common room, you question every decision that’s led you here.

the heavy stone wall slides shut behind you, leaving you in the dimly lit space that exudes an unsettling elegance. Green light filters through the lake’s murky waters outside the windows, casting long shadows across the plush sofas and polished floors. Every creak beneath your feet feels deafening in the eerie quiet.

your heart pounds. You’re not supposed to be here. And yet, the terms of the bet were clear: sneak into Matt’s space and return with proof. A book, a quill or anything to show you’d been there.

you’d lost the game, and now here you are.

the room smells faintly of aged leather and something crisp, like winter air. You tread carefully, trying to make out which door might lead to the boys’ dormitory. Somewhere above you, the faint sound of laughter echoes—probably from students lingering in the upper common room.

you’re halfway across the room when a voice freezes you in your tracks.

“Planning to redecorate, are we?”

you spin around so fast you nearly trip over your own feet. Matt leans against the far wall, his green-and-silver tie undone, his robes draped casually over one shoulder. His eyes glint with amusement, but his smirk is razor-sharp.

“What—what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, pushing off the wall and taking a lazy step toward you. His tone is light, but there’s an edge to it, like a cat toying with a mouse. “This doesn’t seem like your scene, sweetheart.”

you resist the urge to back away as he closes the distance between you, though your pulse is thrumming in your ears. “I was just—uh—looking for something.”

“Looking for something,” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t believe you for a second. “Let me guess: your houses tradition? Break into the Slytherin common room and hope you don’t get caught?”

you flinch. He’s far too close now, his presence making the space feel smaller. His dark green jumper clings to his broad shoulders, and you can’t help but notice the faint, woodsy scent that clings to him.

“No..” you say, a little too quickly. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it like?” he asks, crossing his arms. The amusement is still there, but his tone is sharper now, his gaze probing. “Careful how you answer, love. You’re already on thin ice.”

you hesitate, weighing your options. Lying to him feels impossible under his scrutiny. His eyes seem to see straight through you, as though he already knows why you’re here and is just waiting for you to admit it.

finally, you sigh. “Fine. It’s a bet, okay?” you admit, crossing your arms defensively. “I lost a bet, and now I’m here. Happy?”

his smirk widens, “I’m ecstatic. Go on, then. What’s the dare? Break into my dorm? Steal my favorite book? Something embarrassing, I hope.”

“Just… find something that proves I was here,” you mutter, your cheeks burning.

Matt’s laugh is low and warm, but there’s something dangerous about it. “You’ve got nerve, I’ll give you that.”

“Can I go now?” you ask exasperated.

“Not so fast,” He steps even closer, until you can feel the heat radiating off him. “You think you can just waltz in here, invade my space, and leave without consequences?”

“What do you mean, consequences?”

he tilts his head, pretending to think. “I could report you, you know. Breaking into the Slytherin common room? That’s grounds for a nice, long chat with the fuckin’ professors.”

“Matt, come on—”

“Or,” he interrupts, a glint of mischief in his eyes, “we could make our own bet.”

“What kind of bet?”

“I’ll let you off the hook—no detention, no tattling to your head of house—but you owe me. I haven’t decided what yet, but when I do, you’ll agree. No arguments.”

you hesitate, weighing your options. The alternative—a full-blown scandal and possible expulsion—isn’t exactly appealing.

“Fine,” you say through gritted teeth. “Deal.”

“Gooood girl,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. He steps back, giving you just enough room to breathe, though his eyes never leave yours.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he adds, his smirk deepening. “If you’re ever stupid enough to pull a stunt like this again… don’t expect me to be so fucking forgiving just like I was.”

with that, he turns and saunters off toward the dormitory stairs, leaving you standing there, equal parts relieved and humiliated.

as you make your way back to your own common room, you can’t help but feel that somehow, you’ve just lost another bet.

this was nowhere close to ending.

© waitforyrlove. all rights deserved. do not copy my works. or modify my work.

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˙ . ꒷ 🪽 notes from author˙— giggles, giggles..

[pseudowho]

The Chase

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

Kento doesn't appreciate your insistence on No-Nut November. At a Curse-user VS Jujutsu Sorcerer event with the students, Kento hunts you down in a slow-burning, cat-and-mouse, smutty thrill ride.

WARNINGS: 18+, Oral sex (F2M), BDSM, use of toys, some subtle knife-play, overstimulation, orgasm denial, PiV sex, Nanami Kento falling off his perch and Inumaki being an absolute menace, Y/N is a Jujutsu High teacher with a badly explained technique

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"AND WHAT SAY WE TO DEATH, CHILDREN?"

"NOT TODAY!" "SALMON!"

Satoru beamed and clapped at the fighting words of his students, who rustled together and chatted in excitement for their team training day. You smiled fondly at your students (Nobara, Yuuji and Inumaki particularly pumped), but you felt a shiver run down your chest and shoulders.

Kento's eyes bore only into you, and as he pulled the black leather glove tighter to his hand, you felt heat blossom in your belly and pussy. Team game or not, you knew, as a bead of sweat dripped between your cleavage- not unnoticed by Kento, whose wolfish smirk only grew, cock twitching in his black jumpsuit- that you were his prey today, and his alone.

The hunt was on- and you had nobody to blame but yourself.

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Kento clipped a suitcase shut, and zipped his satchel with a huff, mentally ticking off his to-do list, before the team training day which he was in no mood for. While you trailed in and out of the bedroom behind him, every time you brushed past his back, or your fingers grazed his to take something from the bed, his skin turned electric. He reached down to his crotch and squeezed his cock with a suppressed growl; he had been half-hard for weeks, all because of you and your stupid game. No-Nut November was a fucking ridiculous concept, and you had a lot to answer for. Silent and stewing, his strong shoulders were rock solid, as he imagined taking you on the bed, in the shower wet and pink as he hammered into you from behind, making you ride him on the sofa until you were floppy and pliable and begging him to cum inside you, and--

"Kento, are you alright? It is a bit hot in here. You look all sweaty." Feigning concern, and reaching up to scratch your nails through the back of his undercut, you knew exactly what was wrong with your fiancé. Kento's head preened backwards, shivering into your nails, and he turned, pressing you against the wall, his usual gentleness barely winning over his insistence, his need.

"We don't need to continue these silly games any longer, do we darling?" he crooned into your neck, voice honey-laced and persuasive, "You're feeling it too. I know. There would be no winners or losers, here." One muscled forearm pressed against the wall above your head, tongue licking slow circles on your decolletage, while the other hand ghosted over your nipple, tweaking softly. Kento's cock ached desperately, pressing against you. His heart dropped as you laughed and kissed him playfully, sliding out from under his towering frame.

"It's the 28th today, Kento. We're nearly there. Just imagine how good we're going to feel on the 1st." Truth be told, you were absolutely desperate, growing more so as his attempts to seduce you had grown more bawdry, more wiley. Abandoning towels completely as he padded around the house after his shower. Spooning you all night so you couldn't escape from his cock, hard and heavy against your lower back. Choosing movies with only the best sex scenes and tracing the outline of your pussy under the blanket.

You wanted to see him unhinged. You wanted him rough, heavy and all at once, his anger and frustration taken out on your quaking body. You wanted to see just how far you could deny him before he snapped and ate you out for hours, just to hear you fall apart above him. You had even wickedly pondered the possibility of denying him on the 1st.

Kento laughed sardonically, still leaning on his forearm against the wall. The cold in his voice sent icy trickles through your clit and nipples, and even the standing hairs on the back of your neck listened as that same cold voice began to speak to you.

"So this is how you want it? You want me begging?" He shifted his weight, and you could tell he was trying to find some relief for his hard cock in his tight jeans. "So it's a team game today, right? Curse-users VS Jujutsu sorcerers, hiding and hunting, using all of your best espionage techniques to get out victorious, right?" You remained quiet, pretending to finish packing, ears intently pricked.

"We aren't, of course, on the same team- why would we be? So all this time, you've been the bad guy, and today we swap."  His voice dropped an octave, and you jumped as his breath ghosted millimetres away from your ear, not even feeling him move towards you. His hand drew roughly round your hip and clasped your pussy hard, making you squeak, "Today, I'm the bad guy. Would you fancy your chances against a Curse-user like me?"

He stepped away, leaving you flushed and thrilled, panting at the threat and promise.

Kento was now taking the suitcase and bags to the door, seemingly unaffected. He called from the hallway.

"Oh and, darling? I think you'd better give me a safe word. Or god knows what I'll do with you once I catch you."

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It was late, nearly 10pm, as Kento drew the car smoothly into a bay, pulling up the handbrake. You stepped out into the underground car park of the shopping centre, turned into a vast playground for Sorcerers, for one night only. Kento opened the door for you, declining your offers to help him get bags out of the car. Glancing round, he noted you were the first to arrive, and quickly began stripping to change into his outfit for the night- a heavy black jumpsuit, cuffed above dense back boots, leather gloves pulled taut, dark glasses, and a black mask covering his mouth and nose. You watched him breathlessly, already in your usual mission-wear; you were, after all, on the Jujutsu sorcerers team, not the Curse-user team. You imagined Kento stalking through low lights in that outfit, and felt wetness pool between your legs, making your thighs sticky with arousal. As Kento clipped his watch back on, a pair of grey vans pulled into the parking bays opposite you, and soon enough,  your excitable students poured out, greeting you and Kento with bows and waves.

Yuuji, Nobara, Megumi, Maki, Panda, and Inumaki jostled around the vans for their bags. Satoru, Shoko and Ino came next, Ino running directly to Nanami, and already wearing his jumpsuit.

Nobara, Megumi and Maki clambered back into the vans, and shortly after emerged dressed identically to Kento. You had not known the layout of the teams in advance, and by the confused looks on Yuuji, Inumaki and Panda's faces as they joined you, you felt distinctly outnumbered. Kento, Ino, Maki, Nobara and Megumi cut an intimidating team. Kento looked you up and down with glinting eyes, pulling his blade onto his back, and lowering his mask to smirk at you.

You noticed that Maki had with her one of Yaga's cursed dolls. A blue felt teddy with large, watery looking eyes, held onto her back, peering round at the crowd. You heard Maki explaining to Ino that, whilst her glasses were great for seeing curses, they were not so good for seeing cursed energy, and so she had been lent a cursed doll to act as a sniffer dog for anyone leaking above a certain volume of cursed energy. You weren't sure why this was important.

"OKAY TEAMS!" shouted Satoru, demanding audience, as everyone turned to face him and Shoko.

"We will now lay out your objectives; the game is simple. Predator VS Prey, but only you can decide which of those you will be. Nanamin! Care to take over?"

Kento cleared his throat, and stepped up to Satoru, now nearly matching Satoru's height due to the depth of his boots, but vastly broader, built.

"You all have plenty of experience fighting Curses, but little fighting Curse-users. Fighting another man or woman bears vastly different challenges and consequences. The fights are rarely fair, in number or skill or intellect. You must learn to conceal your cursed energy even more vigorously. Why? To minimise your appearance as a threat so you may release it and strike to your best advantage. To hide when your only task is reconnaissance, or getting out of there alive."

Kento took a deep breath, "A dead sorcerer is not a lesson learned. That sorcerer will learn nothing, ever again. The limit of their skill and knowledge has been reached, then cut short. That sorcerer will never again save a civilian, a friend or a colleague. But whether you view your party as allies or fodder, is up to you." You felt heavy sadness in your chest, knowing as Kento stared into the students, that he saw only Yu Haibara, battered and dead on the cold mortuary slab. Satoru and Shoko were silent and grave, Suguru behind their eyes and grimaces.

Kento let his words hang in the cool night air for a few seconds. "Finally, the shopping centre has been chosen as a base of operations for two reasons. Firstly, to remind you of the value of your surroundings, and we ask you to fight intelligently with little to no collateral damage where possible. The building has been stripped of civilians and security cameras all night for our use. I trust you will all behave responsibly."

The students nodded sagely, carrying deep respect for Kento and his words. Nobara's hand shot into the air. Kento gestured fluidly towards her.

"What's the second reason, Nanami-sensei?" Kento didn't correct her, more willing to be sensei now if it meant working alongside you. Kento stepped aside as Satoru stepped forward.

"It would be obviously unfair for me to participate. But, I will be invigilating the event, and if you perform well tonight, I will treat you all to shopping and breakfast in the morning. Why else would I tell you to bring a normal outfit?" Nobara squeaked with delight, and the students began to hustle together as Satoru encouraged a battle-cry.

While the rest of the team jostled and dissipated to find hiding spots with their ten-minute warnings, you bit the bullet and walked, more confidently than you felt, centimetres away from Kento. His eyes met yours and your breath mingled, each feeling the sexual tension as you slipped something into his pocketed hand. You darted out your tongue to graze against his bottom lip, and his breathing hitched as you whispered to him.

"In case I'm too good at hiding, I thought you may need something else to sniff me out."

You turned and ran up the stairs into the shopping centre, disappearing from sight, Nanami turned on by your skill as your cursed energy disappeared completely. Removing a glove and fingering the item in your pocket, his ears reddened and blood rushed directly to his cock, as he felt the still-damp lace of your underwear against his fingertips. He licked his thumb clean of your taste surreptitiously, and raised his mask once more.

Kento clenched his fists and cracked his neck from side to side, adjusting his aching cock in his jumpsuit. The last to leave the car park, he mounted the stairs in leaps, figure dark and imposing as he slipped into the dimmed lights of the shopping centre above. Hunting you. Wanting you.

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You sprinted through the atrium of the shopping centre, quick light footsteps on the white marbled floors. All of the lights above you were significantly dimmed, apart from occasional orange emergency lights, flashing sporadically above fire exits, illuminating your surroundings in brief spats.

A plan formed quickly in your mind, as you slipped into a book shop, hopping over the counter to crouch beneath the tills. Your abilities were good, in some ways exceptional, but you were ill-suited to fight those on the Curse-user team. You considered your chances against all members of the team one at a time; your conclusions were grim, should you face head to head combat. Your skills lay largely in reconnaissance and manipulation, your intelligence for tactical battle-planning vastly outstretching almost all of your peers. Only one member of the team could absolutely match your intelligence, and absolutely exceed your combat prowess; Kento.

You shivered in anticipation. You remember feeling your heart stop, feeling the danger in the air as you ran from Kento, leaving your arousal-damp underwear in his pocket. You grazed a hand over your pussy, covered in nothing but your leather trousers, and felt the outrageous urge to pleasure yourself to Kento, alone and gasping, on the book shop floor.

The thought was cut short as you heard soft rustles against the book store carpet on the other side of the counter. Whatever it was, it didn't weigh much, and it wasn't making much effort to suppress its cursed energy. Your brain ticked- Maki's cursed doll. You stayed calm, your ability to dampen your cursed energy one of your greatest strengths.

It would be a great inconvenience to Maki, you thought slyly, if you destroyed her sniffer-dog. While Maki's own cursed energy was minimal at best, so was her ability to hide it, and so, eyes heavily lidded, you felt Maki approach the book shop, bladed staff in hand. You felt her pause at the door, watching her cursed doll amble uncertainly around the shop, knowing that something nearby had cursed energy, but unable to pin you down.

"You've found something, huh, bear?" Maki walked into the shop. She stood considering her options. "Well, at least we know it's not Itadori-kun. He sticks out like a sore thumb. Another Curse-user would make themselves known to me. So is it Inumaki, Panda, or Y/N-sensei?"

You smiled, proud of Maki. You knew that she and you would have been friends had you attended Jujutsu High at the same time. But, you resolved to make an attempt on the life of her bear, and escape her. You were not here to fight, but to survive.

Your abilities lent themselves best, in the form of telepathic suggestion. In a gentler, more insidious way than Inumaki, you could compel the heart and mind of another in any manner of your choosing. It worked well, most of the time, and served well in keeping you hidden. You were not powerful enough to compel another to violence, or drastic choices.

Maki did not find it unusual when she was compelled to check the darker areas at the back of the store, ignoring her cursed doll, who had now started trying to climb the counter. Reaching over the counter slowly, you whipped the bear into your arms, and, muffling its cries with your foot, savagely ripped off all limbs but one, before shoving it in a dank stationary cupboard.

Its watery blue eyes looked up at you, trembling and whimpering in terror as you pointed a finger in its face, "If you know what's good for you, bear, you'll shut your mouth when Maki calls for you, or I'll deliver you back to Yaga one piece of stuffing at a time." The doll threw its remaining arm over its eyes dramatically, rolling silently against a tape dispenser, quietly weeping. Monstrously satisfied, you locked the cupboard, and slipped effortlessly out of the bookshop.

Immediately at the other end of the atrium, you saw a fight break out- Megumi and Inumaki, you noted. Inumaki's chances were good, but he was a glass cannon, and your confidence in taking out a Curse-user soared as you considered Inumaki your ally. You sprinted towards the fight as Megumi's Nue swept down towards Inumaki, who rolled athletically aside.

I need to get down to the floor, you forced into Megumi's mind as he circled above Inumaki on Nue, I need to get down, and physically incapacitate Inumaki. Not doubting for a moment that his thought was his own, Megumi dismissed Nue at ground level, and, about to beckon his remaining Demon Dog to attack, you leapt at Megumi's back and slammed an elbow into the back of his head. Megumi was in no way prepared, and hit the floor face-first, hard. Inumaki took his chance, unzipping his mouth and speaking directly at Megumi:

"Laugh uncontrollably!" Immediately, Megumi began twisting on the floor in hysterics, blood from his nose dripping into his mouth, wracked with painful laughter as he struggled to get up. In horror, you and Inumaki recalled that Megumi can summon shikigami with his hands alone. Inumaki cried out again:

"Hands down your pants!" Involuntarily, and still wheezing with laughter, Megumi shoved one hand down the front of his pants, and one hand down the back.  Now blushing wildly, sweating, laughing and bloody, Megumi dropped to his knees. You high-fived Inumaki and reached into your pocket, pulling a thick white paint marker out. Leaning down to Megumi and ruffling his hair, you painted a large, white cross over the chest of his jumpsuit. Inumaki dropped blithely off the balcony beside you, hanging by his hands from the railings, only his fingertips now visible.

One down, you thought. Moving to stand, you felt your legs swept abruptly from under you, hitting the floor with a crunch as  Maki loomed over you, staff at your throat.

"I should have known it was you making me search that shop, Y/N-sensei. But where did you put my fucking bear?" You grinned toothily up at Maki, pointing to a Build-a-Bear Workshop on the other side of the hallway. Maki looked away from you at your insistence, and missed Inumaki climbing up the balcony behind her, waggling his tongue before whispering in her ear:

"Have a nice sit down." Maki dropped wordlessly to the floor, legs now completely useless, as you scooted away from her and she swung her staff furiously, cussing at you and Inumaki. Inumaki pulled out his throat medicine, spraying lightly into his mouth while you patted his back in congratulations.

"That was sloppy, Maki, you can do better than that."

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Walking away from Maki, who you couldn't yet determine to be truly defeated as much as severely limited, you and Inumaki wordlessly split ways.

Just Ino, Nobara and Kento left. Rounding a corner, you felt a hushed, deep pulse of cursed energy through your chest. Your breath caught. This cursed energy you knew better than you knew your own. It washed over you when he made you cum. It rumbled through you when he made love to you in the dark of the night. And he was making little, if any effort to conceal it from you, confident in his ability to hunt you until his completion.

Stepping into a doorway backlit only by an intermittently flashing orange light, the black figure of Nanami Kento, huge, blade in hand, remained in the doorway for just enough flashes of light for you to see him and feel dreadful arousal sink into your belly. Another flash came, and the doorway was empty.

All of the breath left your body at once.

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When Kento first reached the top of the stairs into the shopping centre atrium, he felt multiple residual cursed energies heading away from him, his head filing them away rapidly- Inumaki and Megumi, front right, Maki hard right, Panda hard left, and Yuuji, thrumming with cursed energy like a beacon, hard left.

Ino and Nobara took high perches among the huge white rafters, watching, waiting.

He could not, however, feel you. He was not surprised; you were very good at hiding your cursed energy, but Kento knew you better than anyone. He twiddled your lace underwear between his fingers as he considered his options. You were most likely to be flushed out if you considered an ally to be at risk, and Kento considered you most likely to have followed Yuuji, the newbie, and the one whose poorly controlled cursed energy would most likely disguise your own.

He took a left down a curved hallway in the atrium, carefully avoiding any traces of cursed energy, on his way to Yuuji. Suppressing his arousal, his wish to hunt you down like an animal, he reminded himself he also had a job to do.

Meandering around a series of shops, he felt Yuuji, getting closer and closer, until he pushed through the staff entrance of a brightly lit teddy bear shop. Stuffed toys of all varieties, from the size of his palm to the size of a grizzly bear, lined the stacks and shelves, glassy-eyed and plush. Kento briefly considered leaving some money in the till and choosing you one, before gruffly remembering you were an absolute brat who needed the attitude fucked out of you, not a teddy bear. Twisting his neck again as his arousal peaked, he felt his cock growing and throbbing along his thigh. He sighed in frustration. Best just get on with it,  he mulled.

Reaching into an enormous pile of plush unicorns, Kento lifted Yuuji out by the front of his uniform. Yuuji yelped, and took a half-hearted swing at Kento's face. Kento grunted as knuckles chipped his jaw, and he held Yuuji aloft with the same hand as his blade, slapping Yuuji bodily across the cheek.

"Nanamin!" Yuuji gasped, squirming half-heartedly in his grasp. He looked at Kento, wet-eyed, unable to make the decision to fight him. Kento scowled and barely reduced his full force as he swung Yuuji at the floor, hearing marble floor crack under the carpets. Kento knelt, knees pinning Yuuji's arms to the floor as Yuuji choked down blood, gasping and sputtering.

"I'm disappointed in you, Itadori-kun. Fight me, boy." He slapped Yuuji again, and pressed his blade to Yuuji's throat. "Gone. You're dead. In just seconds, because you hesitated to hurt me, because you think I'm your friend." He spat the last word at Yuuji, who stared up at him, jaw steadfast and eyes trembling.

"Would you kill me, boy, if I turned? If I walked with the real Curse-users one day? I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered it, in my darkest moments."

"You would never. I trust you, Nanamin." Nanami sighed, resting back on his haunches, drawing a painty white cross on Yuuji's chest. Kento stood, pulling Yuuji up from the floor, certain he'd at least broken some of Yuuji's ribs. Yuuji grinned a bloody grin up at Kento.

"Go on, Itadori-kun," Kento sighed, disappointed but unsurprised, "get yourself to Shoko. She's probably at the coffee shop on level 2. Get yourself patched up." Kento didn't even have the heart to interrogate him.

As Yuuji hobbled away, he paused in the staff entrance doorway, and turned to Nanami.

"I'd already made my mind up, Nanamin. If any of you turned to the Curse-users, I wouldn't hurt you because I wouldn't blame you. I'd blame myself for not being there enough. For not helping you." Yuuji walked away, leaving Kento in ponderous silence.

Moments later, Kento felt a warm whoosh of released cursed energy, unmistakeably you. He ducked left, concealed behind the shutters, and, gazing out through the slats, he watched as you and Inumaki flawlessly took out Megumi and Maki. His eyes darkened as you ruffled Megumi's hair, touched Inumaki's hands, patted his shoulders.

Jealous of boys, he scoffed at himself. His self-restraint was now wildly out of touch, obsessing over you barely touching him all month, skirting around him at home, acting like this torture was all for a good cause. He growled lowly at the thought of you now, turning away down a corridor, wondering if you were wet for him, wondering if you were afraid of being caught by him. His mouth salivated at the thought of you pinned against a wall in the dark, crying out for mercy and relief as he pounded, deep and long, into your tight, gummy walls.

Kento was fully erect now, and silently thanked his tight boxers for pinning his aching length against his leg, the heavy jumpsuit material hiding his sticky precum, leaking continuously now, sticking to the hairs on his thighs.

Waiting for Inumaki and you to disappear, he forced up the shutter and crouched underneath, walking across the atrium, finger pressed to his lips as Megumi (still laughing) and Maki saw him. Dropping like a cat onto the level below from the balcony,  he landed on his feet and sprinted ahead, directly underneath the direction he imagined you were headed. Finding a fire escape, he headed up the stairs, and, coated in shadow, emerged into the doorway where he saw you.

Cock thick and hot against his leg, he abandoned any pretence of a game. Hungry and quietly seething, he darted from the doorway into the dark, swearing he could smell you on the air.

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You knew your only chance of escape at this point was to lead Kento through an assault course which was big enough for you, but not for him. The biggest part of you was desperate to be caught, punished at his hands for your torment, and everything inside you clenched in anticipation as you felt your thighs grow steadily wetter with your arousal. Another, competitive part of you wanted to win, and prove to Kento that you were determined to see November to the end. You knew that if you sincerely told Kento to stop, he would drop his every need, his most vital wish being your safety, your right to say no.

But he knew you better than that- knowing your safe word now, knowing how desperately you ached for him, too, he fully committed to your plan to not go down without a fight. When Nanami Kento takes on a duty, he takes it on seriously. And his duty now? To hunt you down, and use you as a personal cocksleeve.

You had already taken a running slide under a partially raised shutter, and heard Kento curse behind you, too bulky to fit beneath it, and an echoing screech as he yanked it upwards. By this point, you were well on your way into a tiny service lift, standing room for one only, the door closing just too fast for Kento to reach. He roared his frustration and, eyes meeting yours through the wired square of glass, you watched his figure disappear as you blew him a kiss.

All of your tactical abilities had grown wings and gone. You panted, nipples erect, thighs sticky, thrilled by the chase, and trying, failing to plan your next move.

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Kento paced like a tiger.

If I have to pull you out of a fucking dumbwaiter, I will. He turned tail to the doors and rolled under the shutters, moving seamlessly back onto his feet and searching for the nearest store-room access point. Finding one, bathed in sickly light, Kento ignored individual stairs and instead leapt them a flight at a time, like a man possessed.

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As soon as you made your way out of the lift, you realised you had made a terrible error of judgement. Between the rolling trolleys and stacks of cardboard boxes, you could see only one way out. Above you, you heard rhythmic slams, getting closer, as someone hit each staircase downwards with terrifying force.

You turned tail and ran back into the service lift, hammering your forefinger on the 'up' button repeatedly, screaming and clapping a hand over your mouth as the store room door slammed open and heavy footsteps sprinted towards you, the lift door nearly closed but four thick fingers pushed past the gap and with a grunt of effort turned satisfied sigh, Kento stepped into the space, barely wide enough for a stack of boxes, and now with he and you crammed against each other.

Still clad in black glasses and mask, he glowers at you wordlessly, reaching one finger behind him to press the 'down' button, keeping the lift in place in the dimly lit basement. You stutter up at him, utterly trapped.

"Kento-" you start, and he presses a leather-gloved finger to your lips. Pushing you, looming over to you until you're flush against the back wall of the lift, you moan as he slowly lifts you off the ground with his thigh and knee pressed against the wall, pussy now grinding against his flexing muscles. You shudder at the sudden pressure, unable to stop yourself bucking your sex against his thigh. Before you could plead for relief, he pressed two black gloved fingers into your mouth, firmly caressing your tongue at first, before pushing them deeply to the back of your throat. A satisfied huff came from beneath his mask as you choked and gagged, his second hand coming up to lightly squeeze the front of your throat, feeling for his fingers inside you.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he breathed, low and dangerous, continuing to fuck your mouth with his fingers, gradually releasing and squeezing your throat in time with your desperate bucking against his thigh. He groaned lowly, savouring your flushed cheeks and the tears of overstimulation running down them.

"Oh darling," he intoned, watching you struggle to get yourself off against his thigh. "Would this help?" He released your mouth and throat abruptly, reached between your legs with both hands and ripped your trousers at the crotch, your pussy now directly on the harsh cloth of his jumpsuited thigh. You let out a momentary cry of protest, and Kento laughed cruelly.

"You make me hunt you like an animal just for a good fuck, and you draw the line at torn clothes? Please. Your pussy's going to need fresh air for a month after what I'm about to do to you."

He hoisted you roughly by the hips and you wrapped your legs around him, and now you could feel the complete outline of his cock, straining and pulsing against the fabric of his jumpsuit.

"Put the effort in, sweetheart," he said as he let go of your thighs, slamming his clothed cock against your bare pussy to hold you against the wall, and you humped furiously against his length, folds open and clit rubbing directly on rough cloth. He gasped beneath his mask, and as you clawed at his back and sucked a droplet of sweat off the side of his throat, he growled, low and threatening.

You felt his hands move together, one to grip your throat again and push your head hard against the wall, and the other to rip open your shirt and tear the fabric of your bra to release your breasts. He tugged at your nipples until you mewled and squirmed against him. He felt your arousal seep through his jumpsuit and underwear, mixing with his precum and making you both wetter. Involuntarily, his hips bucked into you, and you broke, begging and pleading for him to let you cum.

Abruptly, he pulled away from you, leaving you splayed, pussy cold and throbbing, denied the pleasure of your approaching orgasm. Kento turned away from you, shoulders heaving with effort, gripping the base of his cock through his jumpsuit. Head thrown back as he panted, you felt lightheaded with the smell of his sweat and natural scent filling the air around you.

"No...no. You don't get off that easily. And I won't get off that easily, humping like teenagers in a store cupboard. You take pleasure in denial? I'll give you denial."

He turned, spinning you and pressing your face against the cold wall, hand still gloved. You were astounded and appalled by his level of self-control, his own continued self-denial, refusing himself sensory stimuli by remaining gloved, clothed and masked. He rolled his hand into a fist and pressed the small of your back.

"Arch. Now," he ordered. You did as you were told, dropping your belly and pushing your arse out, teasing again against his straining cock. You heard a slow unzipping behind you, and a rustling. You cried out as fabric was crammed into your mouth and, tasting yourself and Kento on your tongue, you guessed he had used your panties to clean himself up before silencing you.

Another noise filled you with alarm- Kento reaching to his back and unsheathing his blade. You felt one finger gently tap the side of your head as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, "You and I both know you have other ways to get your safe word across, hmm?"

You felt something cool and hard rub slowly between your wet, bare folds, and realised with a moan and a blush that Kento was about to fuck you with the handle of his blade. Rubbing lazy circles around your clit, Kento sighed, watching creamy arousal drip down the handle of his blade. He wanted nothing more than to duck down and lick it clean before plunging his tongue into your velvety walls, for you to ride his face until he had you seeing stars. Denying yourself pleasure had meant denying him pleasure, and you knew as well as he did that all it took for him to cum in his pants was you moaning, breaking and falling apart as he ate you out.

For now, he'd let his rage burn slowly, bright embers on black coal, and remind you just how patient he could really be. It would be all the better to lose control with you when you were fucked out, floppy and incapable of denying him any longer.

"Are you going to cum on my blade, hmm?" he whispered against your ear, quickening his circles around your clit as you nodded and whimpered, occasionally threatening to push his blade's handle inside you, denying you as you pressed yourself back into him. Suddenly, inchingly, he raised the handle to your entrance, sliding it through velvet walls and your slick until it bottomed out at the hilt. You whined, and squealed as he twisted the blade, so the nub at the end of the handle pushed insistently against your cervix and sweet spot.

Thrusting it in and out of you harshly, Kento felt dizzy as you shook and whined, leather glove now coated with your creamy white arousal, smells of sweat and cum mingling in the air, and he was overwhelmed for a moment with untouched pleasure and affection, with how well you were doing for him, and he mumbled into your ear as if he were the one being pleasured blind.

"Oh god, yes, yesssss, keep going. Keep going darling, don't stop now, you're taking it so well for me." He groaned into your ear as it became harder for him to push the handle back into you as your pussy clenched and fluttered as you approached your orgasm, tears streaming down your cheeks, so he sped up, reaching round you with his other hand to pinch your clit harshly.

You came with a shout, bliss overwhelming you, wishing it was his cock your walls were milking, your voice drawing out into pathetic mewling as Kento continued his ministrations. Your vision speckled with white lights and your legs shook, seeking Kento's eyes behind his dark glasses. He raised his eyebrows and looked over his glasses at you, eye-to-eye for the first time since you had left home and through Kento's flinty gaze, was a fleck of playfulness as he toyed with you, a cat with a mouse.

Kento hummed, "Too much, not enough...hard to please, aren't you? Oh, keep going my love, because I won't be satisfied until you're putty in my hands." Precum dripped down his throbbing cock as you came again, crying out weakly, nearly collapsing onto the handle of his blade. Slowing down as you rode the waves of pleasure, Kento pulled the handle out and wiped the tears from your eyes, shushing you. He tugged the panties out of your mouth as you coughed and pocketed them, raising the handle up to your mouth.

"Clean it," he ordered, eyeing you intently as you obediently locked and sucked your own essence of the length of the handle. "Not too much," he urged, sheathing his blade back between his shoulders, "I want to smell you on my hands after I fight."

You turned, back pressed against the wall, and Kento allowed it. He appraised his work, you now trembling and sweating, your arousal evident on the torn leather of your trousers, and you begged him.

"Kento, please...I need you inside me. I'll do anything. Please."

"I'm not sure," he intoned again, "you haven't taken me for quite some time, you see. I feel like we need to stretch you out a little, before I wrap you around my cock."

Still staring at you, eyes settled on your heaving breasts, squashed together by your torn shirt, he removed his gloves, one finger at a time. Reaching into another pocket, you heard the rustle of packaging, and Kento deftly unpackaged a dildo and rabbit duo, and a tiny controller that he rolled musingly between his thick fingers.

Hand around your throat again, warningly, Kento gave a gentle squeeze as he stuffed the dildo up with little warning until it bottomed out in you, rabbit lined up with your clit. You jumped in shock, still sensitive from cumming- but blurted out through your tight throat, "Not as big as you."

Kento chuckled sardonically, "Oh? You remember how big I am?" He yanked you in by your neck until you were nose to nose, "Only, you haven't been very good friends with my cock this past-" he checked his watch, "29 days, have you?" He removed his glasses, tossing them aside, rewarding you again with his impassive gaze. His mood was swinging so wildly, he was giving you whiplash. Kento, for the first time in years, seemed positively unhinged. He slammed a mask-shielded kiss to your mouth, moaning into you, and as you came up for air, he buried his hand deep into your hair, grabbing at the roots and forcing you down to your knees, the tightness of the space bringing you face to face with his clothed, hard cock.

He stared down into your eyes, satisfied with the arrangement as you clutched his thighs, and you felt the vibrator buzz to life while he once again unzipped his jumpsuit agonisingly slowly, stripteasing you as first the hard planes of his chest, then his abdomen, then his neatly trimmed honey-coloured pubes came into view.

Reaching the hand holding the controller down, he reached into his underwear and finally revealed his heavy cock and balls, falling hard onto your face. Your mouth watered as you stared up at him, opening your mouth obediently, and Kento's last thread snapped.

Both hands now buried in your hair, and gripping the controller, Kento rammed his cock immediately to the back of your throat, whimpering with relief at the intense pleasure of your throat gagging around him. A few quick clicks of the controller and the vibrator maxed out, strangled squeaks coming from you at the combined intensity of Kento fucking your face with wild abandon and the buzz of the vibrator on your swollen, hypersensitive clit.

Kento gripped you by the hair, slamming his cock repeatedly into your mouth and throat, grunting and gasping as he felt your tongue raise to cup the underside of his sensitive length, pink head brushing against the wet muscle as he thrust, and thrust, and thrust. His head swirled with pleasure, vision thick and hazy after denying himself and being denied for so long, moaning your name, begging to cum down your throat, begging you to cum with him. Head thrown back, he saw stars.

Rolling his head down to look at you, tears running down your cheeks, and mingling with your own saliva and his precum, he fell apart as he watched you play with your own nipples, your mouth tight around him.

As you came again, throat closing around him, he held you nose to pubes as he came with a bark, a month's worth of pent up seed squirtig down your throat in thick, hot bursts. You swallowed, twitching and jerking as the vibrator overstimulated you and you struggled to swallow Kento's massive load. Kento shook, grip in your hair loosening, cock still pulsing and leaping in your mouth as his orgasm drew-out, moaning your name and sweet nothings to you.

Pulling out of your mouth, cock still impossibly hard, he pulled you up to him, pulling the dildo out of you and throwing it and his mask aside. Your eyes met, thoughts headed in the same direction and he pressed you against the wall, your legs locked around his hips.

Kento sunk his cock between your puffy folds, hammering into you immediately, kissing you properly for the first time. Both addled and desperate, you cried out his name as Kento rammed repeatedly into you, pulling out almost completely before bottoming out again, feeling your cervix jump against your belly every time he hit you deeply.

Hair a mess, sweat mingling on his chest, and eyes ablaze, Kento watched you with total adoration as you melted around him, as pliable and floppy as he'd wanted you, eyes glazed as you shook your head and whined.

"I can't cum again...Kento...hurts..."

He leaned close, huffing into your neck as his cock continued to abuse your hole, used and swollen, denying himself from finishing until you came again. His hand coming to rest at your throat again, and his other at your breasts, he squeezed both harshly. The overstimulation combined with lack of air caused a rush that went straight to your pussy, and you broke, gushing around him as you came again.

Kento came again, all shaking moans and pleas, cockhead squirting against your cervix as you felt warmth seep into your belly, both riding your highs, clinging to each other as if on a sinking ship.

Moments passed, panting in each others' arms, and Kento drew both arms around you, embracing you warmly, nose in your hair. You sunk against his chest in bliss, a moment of emptiness as his cock slipped out, and cum trickled down your thighs.

"You were right," he finally groaned, "it was especially good after so long."

You grinned into his chest, nuzzling it and planting a wet kiss above his heart, "And you were right."

Kento looked down at you, one eyebrow raised quizzically. You nipped his left pec, playful.

"I wouldn't fancy my chances against a Curse-user like you."

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Principal Yaga sat with Gojo and Nanami, reading through progress reports for the students, looking with special interest at the Sorcerer VS Curse-user event.

"So, let me get this straight:

Fushiguro would have laughed himself to death if Inumaki hadn't finally released his technique, and Shoko healed him of a minor concussion caused by Nanami-sensei.

Zenin Maki had to be carried back to the van by Ijichi-san, as Inumaki wouldn't release his technique, as he worried Zenin would stab him to death.

Nanami, you broke four of Itadori-kun's ribs, as he refused to fight you. As he was headed to Shoko for treatment, Nobara nailed him to the walls of a lingerie store, but both declined to answer who was in there first. Nobara went to browse the clothing shops.

Ino was found asleep at 2am in a bed store, and once Inumaki had ordered him to tidy up after himself, he was then ordered to go and play by himself in the adjacent toy shop.

Inumaki settled himself down in the book shop, and sellotaped my Curse-doll back together, which he found inside a stationary cupboard, after it had been torn to shreds by Nanami-sensei.

Nanami captured you in the store rooms after a brief combat."

Yaga then glared up at Gojo, eyes narrowed as Gojo sipped coffee innocuously. Yaga continued.

"And Gojo witnessed none of it, as he and Shoko spent the whole night gossiping at the coffee shop on Level 2."

"I figured Nanamin and his girl had things handled."

Yaga scoffed, tucking the papers back inside their folder.

"So who would you both agree to have been MVP of the event?"

Nanami and Gojo looked at each other. Considering, Nanami spoke first.

"I'd say it had to have been Inumaki. Excellent use of his cursed-technique to incapacitate without injuring, taking out 3 of the 5 Curse-user team, with a little support from my wife."

"Actually," Gojo interjected, "I'd have to say it was Panda." Nanami raised an eyebrow in inquiry- he had completely forgotten about Panda.

Gojo continued, "He stayed as still as the grave against the shelves in the Build-a-Bear Factory. Said he hadn't planned to stay there that long, but he found watching Nanamin beat Itadori-kun half to death so intimidating, he stayed there all night. I didn't find him until 7am."

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Reader when she runs from Kento after pushing her undies into his pocket:

Being chased down by horny Nanami?

Haha pussy go BRRRR

[imloyaltoscoups]

club night | choi seungcheol

As you enter the club with Seungcheol by your side, the pulsating beats envelop you, igniting a rush of excitement. You exchange a knowing glance, both aware of the unspoken agreement to enjoy the night separately, free to mingle with your own friends.

You nod to each other before parting ways, disappearing into the crowd. Seungcheol's figure quickly blends into the vibrant sea of dancers, his easy charm drawing people towards him effortlessly.

You find yourself surrounded by your own circle of friends, laughter and chatter filling the air. Drinks flow freely, and the music pulls you into its rhythm, washing away any lingering inhibitions.

As you chat and sip your drink with your friends, you catch sight of Seungcheol across the room. Your gaze lingers as you notice him engaged in conversation with a girl, her laughter ringing out above the music. She leans in close, her body language unmistakably flirtatious.

You watch, intrigued yet oddly unsettled, as Seungcheol reciprocates her advances with a playful grin and a witty retort. Your stomach twists with an unexpected pang of bitterness, the casual nature of your relationship suddenly feeling uncomfortably real.

"Can you believe him?" you mutter to your friend, your voice tinged with a hint of resentment.

But just as you're about to turn away, Seungcheol's eyes flicker in your direction, catching you in the act. His smirk deepens as he holds your gaze, a silent challenge in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Looks like someone's not having as much fun as they thought," he teases, his voice barely audible over the music.

You swallow hard, feeling exposed under his penetrating stare. Despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of indifference, you can't shake the sting of jealousy that courses through you. With a forced smile, you raise your glass in a mocking toast before turning back to your friends, determined to bury the unwelcome surge of emotions that threaten to overwhelm you.

As you take a gulp from your glass, a plan starts forming in your mind. You can play that game too. Your friend's invitation to accompany her to the bar station is the perfect opportunity to observe Seungcheol's next move. With feigned curiosity, you agree, your eyes never leaving his figure in the distance.

As you stand at the bar, deliberating over your choice of drink, a tall, handsome stranger sidles up beside you, his presence commanding attention. You steal a quick glance towards Seungcheol, noting the scene unfolding with the girl at his side, her touch lingering on his biceps as she leans in closer.

Feeling a surge of defiance, you grip your glass tightly, the cool surface a reassuring anchor in the midst of the chaos. You refuse to let Seungcheol's antics unsettle you, determined to hold your own in this impromptu game of cat and mouse.

The stranger turns to you, a charming smile playing at his lips as he engages you in conversation. Despite the distraction of Seungcheol's flirty interlude, you find yourself drawn to the stranger's magnetic presence, his confidence infectious.

But as the conversation progresses, you sense Seungcheol's eyes on you, his gaze unwavering even as the girl's touch inches closer to his lips. You hold his gaze, a silent challenge passing between you, unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

With a subtle smirk, Seungcheol lifts his glass in a mocking toast just what you did a while ago, his eyes never leaving yours as the girl's fingers brush against his lips. It's a daring move, a silent declaration of intent that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through you.

With a coy smile, you started to engage again in a conversation with the stranger beside you, matching his flirtatious banter with ease. You lean in closer, mirroring the girl's actions with Seungcheol, your eyes never leaving his as you deliberately provoke a reaction.

You watch with satisfaction as Seungcheol's expression shifts, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. It's a small victory, but in this game of tit for tat, every move counts. And you're determined to show him that you're not one to be played with so easily.

As the guy beside you leans in, his voice barely audible over the thumping bass of the music, he whispers, "Hey, want to go somewhere a bit quieter?"

You meet his gaze, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes as you nod in agreement. "Sure, why not?"

With a playful smile, you follow him through the crowded club, weaving between bodies until you reach a more secluded corner. The dim lighting casts shadows across the walls, providing a semblance of privacy amidst the chaos.

As you settle into the secluded corner, the guy leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he continues to flirt shamelessly. You play along, matching his enthusiasm with a hint of seduction, all the while stealing glances at Seungcheol across the room.

You catch his eye once again, and this time, there's a flicker of surprise in his expression, a hint of realization dawning in his eyes. You hold his gaze defiantly, silently daring him to make a move, to acknowledge the game you're both playing.

Seungcheol's lips are now occupied with the girl's, but his eyes remain fixed on you. It's a silent acknowledgment of the game you're both playing, a subtle challenge that sets your pulse racing.

As the girl leans into him, lost in the moment, Seungcheol's gaze intensifies. There's a depth to his eyes, a silent communication that transcends words. It's as if he's saying, "I see you, and I raise you."

You meet his gaze head-on, refusing to back down. There's a fierce determination in your eyes, a defiance that matches his own.

And as the girl continues to kiss him with her eyes closed, oblivious to the silent exchange between you and Seungcheol, you can't help but feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Turning your attention back to the guy in front of you, you lean in teasingly close, your lips just grazing his as you playfully evade his attempts to kiss you. His hands begin to roam, tracing patterns along your thighs, the fabric of your dress hitching up with each movement.

You revel in the thrill of the moment, the anticipation building as you toy with him, teasing and tempting with every touch. With a mischievous smile, you finally give in, pressing your lips to his in a heated kiss, your mind buzzing with the knowledge that Seungcheol's eyes never once left you, even as he indulged in his own distraction.

As the guy in front of you moves from your lips to your jaw and down to your neck, placing soft kisses along the way, you find yourself getting lost in the moment, forgetting momentarily about the game you were playing with Seungcheol.

But before things can escalate further, you're suddenly pulled away, the guy's touch vanishing as this person grabs your arm and guides you towards an empty room. You stumble slightly as he pushes you through the door, the cool air of the room hitting you in contrast to the heated atmosphere outside.

"Having fun, are we?" Seungcheol's voice cuts through the air, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You bristle at his accusation, your defenses rising instinctively. "I'm not the one who started this," you retort, running a hand through your hair in frustration.

"You're talking back now?" Seungcheol's voice carries a teasing edge, his amusement evident as he grabs your face in his fingers, forcing you to lock eyes with him.

You can feel the heat of his touch against your skin, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine. But instead of backing down, you decide to play the brat, knowing it will provoke him further.

"Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?" you challenge, a smirk playing on your lips as you meet his gaze defiantly.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" he says, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Seungcheol's grip tightens slightly, his jaw clenching as a flicker of irritation flashes across his features. But there's something else there too, a primal desire that you can't ignore.

You lean in closer, deliberately pushing his buttons as you revel in the power play between you.

"I'm not the one who fucked up, Seungcheol," you declare, refusing to back down as you move closer to his face, the tension crackling between you.

But instead of acknowledging any wrongdoing, Seungcheol's gaze darkens with possessiveness. "You let others touch and kiss you," he accuses, his voice low and dangerous. "You belong to me. Every inch of you is mine."

You bristle at his words, his attempt to gaslight you only fueling your defiance. "Oh, do I?" you retort, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "Last I checked, you weren't the only one in this game."

But he doesn't back down, his grip tightening on your face as he leans in closer. "You fucking allowed someone to kiss you, Y/N," he growls, his voice laced with barely contained anger.

"Like I said, Seungcheol, you're the one who started it. I'm just doing my part," you shoot back, refusing to let him intimidate you.

With a defiant tilt of your chin, you move your hand above his chest, tracing a teasing swirl with your fingertips, a bratty challenge in your actions. You're not about to let him dictate the terms of this game, not when you're just as capable of playing dirty.

Seungcheol's breath catches at your touch, his eyes darkening with a mixture of desire and frustration. But you hold his gaze, unflinching in the face of his intensity. This may be his game, but you're determined to show him that you're not one to be controlled so easily. (but you were dead wrong)

As Seungcheol leans closer, his lips brushing against your neck, his words send a shiver down your spine. "You should have rushed towards me when that whore began flirting, but you just watched, isn't that right?" he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "You should have claimed me right there."

His words strike a nerve, and you can't deny the truth in them. But before you can respond, he continues, his lips trailing lower to your collarbone, eliciting a soft moan from you. You tilt your head back, offering him more access, but he abruptly pulls away, his gaze piercing as he faces you head-on.

"But instead of running to me, you chose to flirt with someone, huh?" he accuses, his voice tinged with anger and disappointment. "And you even had the guts to fucking kiss that shit. And now you're telling me it's my fault?"

You open your mouth to protest, but before you can speak, Seungcheol's lips find their way to your ear, his teeth nibbling gently as he moves his hand to the exposed skin of your back, tracing slow circles along your backless dress. He leans back once again, his gaze pierces through you with a mixture of anger and desire, a storm swirling in his eyes.

"Did you enjoy making out with that fucker, huh?" Seungcheol's voice is low, his lips almost touching yours, sending a jolt of heat through you. You can feel the wetness forming between your legs as his dominance overwhelms you.

You lick your lips, feeling the dryness as you try to find your voice. "It wasn't like that," you protest weakly, but the desire in his eyes leaves you breathless.

Seungcheol's gaze darkens with lust as he continues, his knee pressing gently between your legs, a tantalizing pressure that makes your pulse race. "Did you use your pretty tongue of yours?" he demands, his voice dripping with possessiveness. "When I went there, you had your fucking eyes closed. Did you fucking enjoy his company that much?"

You struggle to respond, his words sending a surge of arousal coursing through you. But before you can form a coherent reply, he leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours as he whispers, "Did you let that fucker touch you?" His tone is laced with lustful desire, a primal need that ignites a fire within you.

Seungcheol's eyes narrow with intensity, his desire evident as he waits for your response. He knows, and you know he knows, but still, he wants to hear it from your lips.

You're torn between defiance and desire, your body craving his touch even as your pride fights against it. But in the end, it's the intoxicating mix of jealousy and longing in his eyes that wins out.

With a sudden surge of boldness, you grab his collar, pulling him closer, and press your lips to his hungrily. Your kiss is hungry, fueled by a primal need to possess and be possessed.

He finds your eagerness amusing, a smirk playing on his lips as he allows you to take control. But he doesn't kiss you back, his lips remaining passive against yours, a silent challenge that only serves to heighten your desire.

You find his refusal to respond maddeningly arousing, the thrill of the chase driving you to push him further. But deep down, you know that no matter how much you crave his touch, Seungcheol is the one in control.

As he remains passive against your hungry kiss, a whimper escapes your lips, betraying the frustration and desire swirling inside you. You can sense his arousal, feel the heat radiating from him, yet he remains strangely calm despite the anger simmering beneath the surface.

"Why won't you..." you start to protest, but Seungcheol interrupts you with a low chuckle, his eyes dark with amusement and desire.

"Because I know you want it more," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "And I'm going to make you beg for it."

His words ignite a fire within you, a mixture of frustration and arousal that threatens to consume you. You know he's playing with you, teasing you with the promise of pleasure, and you can't help but fall deeper under his spell. With a frustrated growl, you release his collar, stepping back slightly as you try to catch your breath.

"But if you want to do something with that mouth of yours..." Seungcheol's voice trails off, his tone low and suggestive as he brushes his thumb against your parted lips.

Your breath hitches at the touch, anticipation coursing through you as he inserts his thumb into your mouth, pressing against your tongue with firm insistence.

You look up at him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of desire and defiance, the intensity between you reaching a fever pitch. The taste of his skin against your tongue only serves to fuel the fire within you, igniting a hunger that can't be ignored.

As you suckle gently on his thumb, you can feel the tension in the air crackling with electricity, a silent acknowledgment of the power play unfolding between you.

Seungcheol's eyes darken with desire as he watches you, a smirk playing on his lips. "That's it, be a good girl" he murmurs, his voice husky with arousal. "Show me what that pretty mouth of yours can do."

As you try to suckle on his thumb further, Seungcheol gently stops you, His gaze flickers down to his pants, a silent invitation that you understand all too well.

Without needing any further instruction, you drop to your knees in front of him, your eyes locking with his as you face his obvious arousal straining against his pants.

With practiced ease, you reach out, deftly undoing the button and zipper, releasing him from his confinement. His erection springs free, and you can't help but lick your lips in anticipation, the sight of him already making you throb with need.

Desire coursing through you as you meet his gaze, silently asking for permission. Seungcheol's eyes darken with lust as he watches you, a primal hunger burning within him. With a silent nod, he gives you the approval you seek, granting you permission to satisfy his every need.

As you begin to slowly suck his cock, Seungcheol's hand gently tilts your chin upwards, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes burn with intensity, a silent command for you to maintain eye contact while you pleasure him.

With his erection in your mouth, you comply, locking eyes with him as you take him deeper, savoring the taste of him on your tongue. Each movement is deliberate, calculated to elicit the maximum pleasure for him, but your gaze remains locked with his, a silent exchange of desire and dominance.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal as he watches you. "Being watched while you please me."

You can only respond with a muffled hum, your mouth too full to form words, but the hunger in your eyes speaks volumes. As you continue to swirl your tongue along his cock, Seungcheol hisses with satisfaction, praising how good you are.

"Fuck, that's it," he groans, his voice rough with desire as he sets the pace. "Just like that, baby. You know exactly what I like."

His words only serve to fuel your desire to please him further, and you redouble your efforts, determined to make him lose himself in pleasure.

But just as you find your rhythm, Seungcheol holds your hair up, tilting your head back slightly. With a soft groan, he begins to move his hips, setting a pace that you eagerly follow.

You struggle to maintain your balance as he sets the pace, your hands instinctively reaching out to grip his hip and thigh for support. The feeling of him moving within your mouth, filling you completely, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you moan around him, the vibrations only serving to heighten his arousal.

Seungcheol's praises continue, his voice thick with desire as he urges you on, each movement of his hips driving you closer to the edge. You lose yourself in the sensation, completely at his mercy as you surrender to the pleasure of pleasuring him.

As Seungcheol's hips rock into your mouth with increasing force, tears begin to trickle down your cheeks. The roughness of his movements, combined with the demand to not stop using your tongue, sends a wave of mixed sensations coursing through you.

"Don't stop," he demands, his voice low and urgent. "Keep using that pretty tongue."

You try to comply, despite the ache in your jaw from the force of his thrusts. With every movement, he pushes you further, driving you to the brink of pleasure and pain.

"Fuck," he groans, his grip tightening in your hair as he moves faster, his movements becoming more frantic with each passing moment. "Just like that, baby. Don't you dare stop."

You do your best to obey, your mouth working tirelessly to pleasure him despite the strain. But with each passing second, the ache in your jaw becomes more pronounced, tears streaming down your face as you struggle to keep up with his relentless pace.

As Seungcheol's thrusts become more urgent, you can sense that he's getting closer to the edge. Bracing yourself, you prepare for what you know he wants – for you to swallow it all for him.

"Fuck, I'm close," he grunts, his voice strained with ecstasy as he approaches the brink of release.

With a mixture of anticipation and submission, you continue to obey his every command, your mouth working tirelessly to bring him to the peak of pleasure.

As Seungcheol reaches his climax, he pulls his cock out of your mouth just as you're about to swallow all of his cum. Instead, he places it on your lips, his juices still dribbling out from his pulsing cock.

"Keep it there," he commands, his voice thick with satisfaction and dominance. "Let me see you with my cum on your lips."

You obey without hesitation, holding his spent cock in place as his essence coats your mouth. The taste lingers on your tongue, a potent reminder of his control over you as you look up at him with eager anticipation, awaiting his next command.

He looks at you with satisfaction, a smirk playing on his lips as he observes your submissive state.

"You know," he says, his voice laced with smugness, "you can never beat me."

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his dominance pressing down on you. Despite your best efforts to resist, you know he's right. He always seems to have the upper hand, leaving you powerless to his desires.

With a firm grip on your chin, he reminds you of your place. "Next time a girl flirts with me," he says sternly, "you need to claim that I'm yours. No more flirting with fuckers who approach you."

His words are a sharp reminder of the rules of this game, a game in which he always seems to come out on top.

Seungcheol kneels before you, catching your lip and tasting his own cum on your tongue. His actions are possessive yet tender, a contradiction that leaves you breathless.

"I hope this will be the first and last time you'll act like this, okay?" he murmurs against your lips, biting gently as you nod in response.

He kisses your forehead, his voice softening as he asks if you want to leave the club now. His eyes hold a warmth that belies the intensity of the moment, leaving you questioning the nature of your relationship.

You've asked him about being official before, but he always seems to evade the topic. As you stand there, caught between desire and uncertainty, you can't help but wonder if there's something deeper between you two, something more than just a casual fling. The question lingers, unanswered, as you follow him out of the club, the night's events leaving you with more questions than answers.

....... ≿━━━━━༺MASTERLIST༻━━━━━≾ .......

[lau219]

This gif was sent to me by my dear friend @novashelby for the gif-inspired drabble requests I encouraged readers to send me. Thank you for the request, Nova! Once again, this turned into a one shot rather than a drabble. 🤦‍♀️

Upon seeing this gif, I immediately couldn’t help thinking of another situation where Tommy is chasing his woman. Therefore, I ended up writing this with the idea that it’s a little prequel to It Can Wait, the other gif-inspired request I just wrote for my friend @runnning-outof-time.

So, here’s Tommy and Y/N from It Can Wait several years earlier. Notice any behaviors that haven’t changed??? 😉👀😉👀

Come And Get It

One shot: Tommy Shelby x Female Reader

No smut. Mildly suggestive.

•.•.•.•.•

Thomas Shelby never chased anything.

Or anyone.

No. Anything he wanted, he obtained through influence and power, making it happen. It was all brought to him, acquired through other means and tactics under his direction. His status? His power? His reach? He hadn’t chased it; he’d crafted and created it. He’d never had to chase anything, and he assured himself he never would.

And as far as female company went, he never had to chase that, either. The women, they all came to him. Willingly and earnestly, practically crawling to him with the yearning of an eager kitten. He could have his pick of any one of them, and he never chased a single one.

Until her.

For months now, it had been a game of cat and mouse, yet in this case, Tommy was in the previously unfamiliar position of being the eager feline.

From the moment he’d met her, Y/N had captivated Tommy in a way no other woman ever had. Something about her sparkled from the inside out, a vibrance and warmth that won over everyone she encountered. But what called to Tommy more than anything was that she was also a charming troublemaker, witty and sassy with a knack for pushing his buttons in the most frustratingly enticing way, and always leaving him wanting more. She knew the power, the influence, the status Thomas Shelby held, and yet, unlike all the other women, she hadn’t just fallen at his feet.

For months, she’d dangled the carrot, keeping Tommy on his toes and him thinking about her constantly. She’d teased him with plenty of close calls, but always pulled back, taking pleasure in his obvious frustration and always looking for new ways to push his buttons.

But, surprisingly, Tommy had discovered he very much enjoyed the chase, particularly because he knew that, despite her tormenting him, Y/N was just as drawn to him as he was to her. And with every new close call, it was clear she was closer and closer to the brink of giving in, and her little games had become unspoken foreplay between them, her playing hard to get on the verge of an ending that coincided with Tommy’s last threads of patience.

The next time he chased her, she wouldn’t get away.

And that’s exactly what he’d been doing. Chasing her.

Outside the Garrison that night, a large group of them had lingered as they chatted and smoked, the group of friends Y/N was with having finished their drinks for the night and preparing to head home. But while everyone else was milling around in the street, Tommy had remained near the door, leaning against the building as he silently smoked a cigarette. Ordinarily, the last thing he’d be doing was standing around like this, but he wasn’t going to let Y/N out of his sight when surrounded by several other men who’d been served one too many, Arthur and John included amongst that group.

Upon turning around after laughing at something her friend said, Y/N’s gaze landed on Tommy, his cap pulled low and his eyes zeroed in on her beneath it as the tip of his cigarette glowed between his lips. A mischievous smile on her face, Y/N approached Tommy and then stopped in front of him, holding his gaze as she spoke.

“Do you ever do anything other than brood, Mr. Shelby?” she asked him teasingly. “A bit of friendly mingling might do some good for that recurring moody glare of yours.”

Calmly lifting his hand to his mouth, Tommy pulled his cigarette from his lips and exhaled the smoke before replying.

“I don’t mingle, love,” he replied as they continued to look at each other. “I prefer to get right to the point.”

Rolling her eyes and giving another smile, Y/N then stepped even closer to Tommy, stopping right in front of him.

“Always so serious beneath that cap,” she said, her eyes briefly lifting to his hat before then looking at him again. “You need to learn to have some fun, Thomas.”

Flicking his cigarette away then, Tommy pushed off the wall and stood up straight, his chest just brushing hers as he did.

“I’m not sure that you’d be able to handle the kind of fun I enjoy,” he said to her then, his voice especially low.

The mischievous smile still on her face, Y/N ever so slightly pressed her chest more against Tommy’s.

“You don’t think so, hm?” she said.

“No,” he answered, his eyes burning into hers. “But trust me, love…” he fully pressed their chests together then as he paused for effect, “…I know how to have it.”

For the briefest of seconds, Tommy could see the flash of desirous intimidation in Y/N’s eyes. But once more, her beautiful orbs then twinkled with renewed mischief, and she smiled as she lifted her gaze to the top of Tommy’s head, along with her hand. Before he could stop her, Y/N reached out and quickly plucked Tommy’s cap off his head, and their eyes locked for a final moment.

“Prove it,” she said, and then she took off down the street.

It was with every slam of his feet against the cobblestones that Tommy’s determination and arousal intensified as he ran after her. Up ahead, he could hear Y/N giggling and calling out rushed apologies to the few others in the street whom she narrowly missed or bumped into as she darted between them.

Tommy’s hat still in her grasp, Y/N looked over her shoulder to see him several yards behind her, his brothers trailing him. While having no context of the situation, Arthur and John had enthusiastically followed after Tommy anyway, eager for a fight in their slightly drunken state and assuming Tommy was in pursuit of someone to beat up. But Y/N was Tommy’s only focus, and as he rushed past every spot and pedestrian that she’d dashed by just seconds before, he realized somewhere in the back of his mind that this was a woman he’d never tire of chasing.

Reaching the lively end of the long street where music was drifting out from inside the still open jazz club, Y/N had nowhere else to go but inside. Tommy still down the street about a half dozen yards, Y/N reached for the handle of the door of the club, hurriedly pulling it open with her free hand and darting inside. Pausing for the briefest moment to look around, she saw there was still a hefty amount of patrons throughout the large room and at the bar despite the late hour, and she did her best to quickly blend in amongst them, her eyes fixed on the door where she knew she’d soon see Tommy.

Having remained completely focused on Y/N up ahead, Tommy had seen her pause for a split second before rushing inside the jazz club at the end of the street. As he himself reached the door, he paid no mind to Arthur and John as they breathlessly followed behind him, still oblivious to their brother’s actual target.

He himself slightly winded and his hair disheveled from the way Y/N had pulled his cap from his head, Tommy was breathing unsteadily through his mouth as he entered the main room of the club. His eyes scanned the area slowly, carefully, intent on finding Y/N amongst the crowd and ignoring the several odd looks he was getting from the club’s patrons as he made his way through the room. Walking with slow intention, Tommy’s eyes looked everywhere and his head was turning in all different directions as he searched for Y/N, determination once again coursing through him as he did.

Already distracted by some other women who had caught their eyes, Arthur and John soon lost interest in Tommy’s endeavor, and they no longer followed him as he prowled through the room.

But as soon as Tommy had entered the club after her, Y/N had spotted him, and when she saw him making his way closer and closer to the bar as he searched for her, she subconsciously gripped his cap more tightly in her hand.

It was when a small group at the bar shifted and moved that Tommy finally spotted her, the group’s minor commotion enough to have grabbed Tommy’s attention. His cap still in her hand, Y/N stood at the bar, her cover now blown, and as Tommy spotted her and their eyes locked, his parted lips were suddenly forming into a predatory smile as it was clear Y/N realized she now had nowhere else to go.

Or so Tommy thought.

But as he was still holding her eyes and closing the remaining space between them, Y/N suddenly moved again, stepping away from the bar and making her way back towards the entrance, once again dodging people as she wove through the crowd. She and Tommy’s eyes remained locked the entire time, and as Tommy made his way back though the room as he yet again followed her, he was thinking about the one hundred and one ways he’d show her just what a big mistake she’d made by testing him once he had her truly without an escape.

Nearing the front door of the club once more, Y/N was walking backwards to keep her eyes on Tommy as he followed her, the two of them in a silent showdown. But just before she reached for the door, Tommy spoke, his voice heavy with threatening desire.

“I’m going to need that back, love,” he said, gesturing to his cap still in her hand. “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t make me come after you for it again.”

Her smile unfolding across her face once more, Y/N lifted her hand that clutched his cap.

“You want it, Thomas?” she said seductively as she dangled the cap tauntingly in the air. She then used her other hand as well to grasp the cap and smugly tugged it down onto her own head.

“Then come and get it,” she finished.

His gaze unrelenting, Tommy replied.

“You’re on incredibly thin ice, darling,” he said in a warning tone. “Now, am I going to get what I want, or do you plan on running again?”

They both knew that they weren’t just talking about Tommy’s hat.

“What do you think?” Y/N replied with a smirk, and she pushed the door of the club open partially in indication that she planned to take off again.

“Alright, go on then,” Tommy said, and he jerked his head towards the door, “I’ll even give you an intentional head start this time. But keep in mind that wherever you lead us next, you’d better hope it’s warm inside.”

Her self-assuredness slightly faltering at Tommy’s words, Y/N furrowed her brow in confusion, her head tilting.

“What? Why?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

At that, Tommy gave her a look that would have stopped a lesser woman’s heart, and upon hearing his next words, Y/N was squeezing her thighs together and quickly trying to think of the next nearest place she could lead him that offered some secluded warmth.

“Because, love,” Tommy said, his voice lower than she’d ever heard it and his devilish smirk returning, “once I catch you, that hat is going to be the only piece of clothing that I leave on your body.”

@novashelby @runnning-outof-time @xsweetcatastrophe @meister95 @toobusyshrimping

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@birdaquarius @mostly-marvel-musings @hairica

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐘𝐨𝐮

gojo x virgin!reader x nanami

request: i deleted the ask by mistake. it contained nanami helping gojo to lose your virginity. tags: soft dom!gojo, mean dom!nanami, petnames, degradation, threesome (?), commands, established relationship gojo x reader, alcohol – all three are drunk, fingering, p in v, dirty talk, of course not beta read notes: this was my first time writing m x reader x m in one scene wc: 2.4k

In the intimate setting of your home, you and Gojo sat across from each other at the kitchen island, your friend Nanami perched on a stool nearby. Glasses of wine in hand, you chatted and laughed, the atmosphere light and easy.

As the evening progressed and the wine flowed freely, Nanami found himself drawn to you in a way he hadn't anticipated. Your laughter was infectious, your smile radiant, and with each passing moment, he couldn't help but notice the way your eyes sparkled under the soft glow of the kitchen lights.

The alcohol acted as a catalyst, dulling Nanami’s inhibitions and heightening his senses. He couldn't shake the feeling of attraction that simmered just beneath the surface, the way his pulse quickened whenever you leaned in close to share a joke, the subtle curve of your lips as you sipped your wine.

As the night wore on, the air grew thick with tension, a palpable energy that crackled between them. Nanmi tried to brush off his feelings, to ignore the heat that coiled in the pit of his stomach whenever your gaze met his own. But with each passing moment, it became increasingly difficult to deny the desire that burned within him.

As the conversation meandered from topic to topic, Gojo found himself playing a silent game of cat and mouse with Nanami, watching with amusement as his friend struggled to maintain his composure in the presence of your effortless charm.

And then, in a moment of mischief, Gojo decided to drop a bombshell that would change the dynamic of the evening entirely.

"Yo, Nanami," Gojo said casually, interrupting the flow of conversation. "Did I ever tell you that she’s still a virgin?"

The revelation hung in the air like a sudden gust of wind, catching both Nanami and you off guard. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, while Nanmi's eyes widened in surprise.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, ‘toru!”

With a smirk, Gojo leaned back against the couch, relishing the opportunity to turn the tables on his friend. "She told me that she fantasizes about you helping me... you know, take her virginity."

The words hung in the air, heavy with implications, as both you and Nanami continued to stare at Gojo in shock. Your cheeks flushed even a darker crimson with embarrassment, your eyes widening in disbelief, while Nanami’s jaw dropped open in stunned silence.

Gojo couldn't help but chuckle at your reactions, thoroughly enjoying the sudden shift in dynamics. He had expected surprise, perhaps even a bit of discomfort, but the intensity of your reactions took even him by surprise.

The air crackled with tension as you and Nanmi exchanged a glance, both unsure of how to respond to Gojo's bombshell revelation.

Nanami couldn't shake the sudden surge of desire that pulsed through him. The playful banter had taken an unexpected turn, igniting a fire within him that he struggled to contain.

Leaning in closer to you, Nanami's voice took on a seductive edge as he asked, "Is Gojo serious?"

His breath grazed your ear, sending shivers down your spine as you met his gaze, your eyes dark with a mixture of apprehension and intrigue. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his proximity stirring something primal within you.

Caught off guard by the intensity of the moment, your heart raced in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. You could feel the weight of Nanami's gaze, the magnetic pull between them growing stronger with each passing second.

Unable to resist the allure of the moment, Nanami closed the distance between you, his lips hovering just inches from yours. The air crackled with anticipation as your breaths mingled, the tension between you reaching a fever pitch. Slowly you nodded.

With a boldness Nanami hadn't known he possessed, he reached out and grabbed you, pulling you onto his lap so your back pressed against his chest.

YOu gasped in surprise at the sudden intimacy, your heart pounding in your chest as you found yourself enveloped in Nanami's embrace. The heat of his body seared through you, igniting a fire deep within your core.

Feeling emboldened by her response, Nanami's hands traveled along the curve of your thighs, sending a shiver of anticipation coursing through you. With a gentle yet firm touch, he guided your legs, pulling them up to your own chest, the fabric of your skirt bunching up around your waist.

Your breath caught in your throat as you surrendered to the sensation, your pulse racing with a heady mix of excitement and apprehension. The air crackled with electricity as Nanami's touch sent sparks flying, the boundaries between you fading away in the heat of the moment. Lost in the throes of passion, you leaned back against Nanami.

“I’ll help you.”

As the scene unfolded before him, Gojo felt a surge of desire unlike anything he had ever experienced. The sight of his lovely girlfriend, your legs spread open for him, ignited a primal fire within him, sending a rush of heat coursing through his veins.

With each breath, Gojo could feel the tension in the room thickening, the air crackling with raw, unbridled desire. His gaze locked onto you, your body glistening with anticipation, your eyes dark with lust as you lay in Nanami's embrace.

Unable to resist the magnetic pull of the moment, Gojo approached you slowly, his heart pounding in his chest with each step. He stopped right in front of you, between your legs, his eyes raking over your exposed form with hunger.

Your breath caught in her throat as you watched Gojo's approach, your body thrumming with anticipation at the promise of what was to come. You could feel the heat of his gaze on your skin, igniting a fire deep within you that threatened to consume you whole.

As Gojo stood before you, his presence looming over you like a tantalizing promise, you felt a surge of excitement coursing through you. You longed to reach out and pull him closer, to feel his touch against your skin and lose yourself in the ecstasy of their passion.

“Gojo, start prepping her.”

As Nanami's command hung in the air, Gojo felt a surge of arousal course through him. Without hesitation, he leaned in closer to you, his lips trailing a path of fiery kisses along your collarbone and down your neck. With each tender touch, he could feel your body respond, your breath hitching with every caress, before he got on his knees.

Meanwhile, Nanami wasted no time in exploring your body, his hands roaming freely over your curves, igniting a blaze of desire wherever they touched. His touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you as you surrendered to the intoxicating sensation of his hands on your skin.

Gojo shifted his focus to your most intimate desires. With tender care, he trailed his fingers along your inner thighs, feeling the shiver of anticipation that rippled through your body.

“Know you like being teased, princess.”

Your breath hitched as Gojo's touch grew bolder, his fingertips dancing tantalizingly close to your most sensitive areas. Each caress sent a jolt of electricity coursing through you, your body responding eagerly to his gentle ministrations.

With a soft whimper, you parted your legs slightly, granting Gojo access to your already wet cunt. Encouraged by your response, Gojo leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your soft skin as he worshipped your clit with reverent devotion.

As the heat between you intensified, Gojo's touch grew more insistent, his fingers tracing delicate patterns against your skin as he teased and tantalized your senses. You moaned softly, your body writhing with pleasure to the overwhelming sensation of his touch.

As Gojo's hands worked their magic below, you felt Nanami's touch ignite a fire within your chest. His fingers danced across your skin with a confidence that sent shivers down your spine.

With each caress, Nanami whispered dirty secrets into your ear, his words sending waves of desire crashing over you like a tidal wave. His voice was a seductive melody, low and husky, as he painted vivid images of your shared desires, igniting a primal hunger deep within her core.

“You wanted me to help, huh? I didn’t know you were that dirty. Such a slut.”

Your breath hitched as Nanami's words washed over you, his dirty talk awakening a hunger you never knew existed. You arched her back, pressing yourself closer to him, craving more of his touch, more of his words, more of everything he had to offer.

“Bet you wouldn’t mind Gojo fucking your cunt while I thrust into your mouth, hm, little one?”

With each whispered confession, Nanami's touch grew bolder, his fingers playing with your nipples, squeezing your tits. His lips grazed your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin as he continued to whisper sweet promises of pleasure and ecstasy.

Lost in the throes of passion, you surrendered to the intoxicating sensation of Nanami's touch and the heady rush of desire that consumed you. In that moment, with his hands on your tits and his words in your ear, you knew that you were exactly where you belonged.

The contrast between Gojo's gentle touch and Nanami's dominant demeanor sent a surge of arousal coursing through your veins. With each caress from Gojo, you felt yourself melting into a pool of blissful surrender, Gojo’s fingers sliding in and out gently, slowly.

Gojo's touch was like a soothing balm, comforting and reassuring in its softness. He worshipped you with tender care, his fingers bending inside your pussy, hitting your sweetest spot. With each gentle stroke, you felt herself drawn deeper into the depths of ecstasy, your senses ablaze with the intoxicating sensation of his touch.

“You’re such a good girl for me, princess. Your pussy is soaking already, sucking my fingers in.”

Meanwhile, Nanami's dominant presence sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you, igniting a primal hunger deep within your core. His commanding touch left no room for hesitation, his fingers moving with purpose as he claimed you with a confidence that set your pulse racing.

“Dirty slut, can’t wait for Gojo’s cock, huh?”

The contrast between their approaches sent sparks flying, each touch more electrifying than the last as they danced the delicate dance of pleasure and desire. Gojo's tenderness and Nanami's dominance blending together in a symphony of desire. You surrendered completely to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that consumed you.

With each passing moment, the tension between you three reached a fever pitch, the air thick with the promise of what was to come. 

“Gojo, stand up.”

Gojo pulled back and stood up, an enormous bulge visible in his dark pants. You cried out due to the lack of your pussy being filled.

“Don’t cry, slut. Stand up, turn around and bend over.”

As Nanami's commanding voice cut through the air, Gojo's pulse quickened with excitement. With a nod from Nanami, he rose to his feet, his gaze fixed on you, who stood ready to follow their instructions.

You, too, complied without hesitation, your heart racing as you turned to face Nanami, your back now presented to Gojo. With a mixture of nerves and anticipation, you bent over as instructed, feeling a flush of heat spread across your skin as you exposed yourself to them both.

Positioned behind you, Gojo's breath hitched as he took in the sight before him. Your curves were tantalizingly close, your back arched in invitation as you awaited their next move.

With a confident stride, Nanami approached you, his presence commanding as he guided you into position. Gojo's pulse quickened as he watched Nanami's hands roam over your body, guiding you with firm yet gentle touches.

Meanwhile, your senses were ablaze with anticipation, your skin tingling with the heat of their proximity. You could feel Gojo's presence behind you, his breath hot against your neck as he waited eagerly for his cue. With a flicker of excitement, Nanami positioned himself before you, his gaze locking with yours.

“Fuck her, Gojo, show the little slut what a cock inside her cunt feels like.”

The knowledge that you were about to give yourself to him, to surrender your innocence in the heat of the moment, sent a rush of excitement coursing through your veins.

With a sense of urgency, Gojo stepped even closer to you, his hands trembling with anticipation as he positioned himself behind you. His touch was gentle yet firm as he guided himself towards you, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he prepared to take your virginity.

Your body tensed with anticipation as you felt the weight of Gojo's desire pressing against your, his tip gliding up and down between your slit, feeling your wetness. With a final, longing look exchanged between you, you braced yourself for the inevitable, knowing that there was no turning back now.

“Going in now, princess.”

And as Gojo entered you for the first time, the world seemed to fade away around you, leaving only the raw, unbridled passion that burned between you. It hurt yet felt incredibly good at the same time. Gojo was filling you up completely as your pussy clenched around his hard cock.

“F–fuck, baby…ahh, you’re fucking tight.”

Gojo hips moved slowly but hard, thrusting into your tightness. God, how often has he dreamed about pounding into your puffy cunt? Making you scream and beg for him to fill you up?

As Gojo's gentle thrusts began, you were overwhelmed by a rush of sensation unlike anything you had ever experienced before. Each shallow movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through you.

Your breath came in short, ragged gasps as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of Gojo's touch, your body arching instinctively to meet his with each gentle thrust. The heat between you grew with each passing moment, fuelled by the raw, unbridled passion that burned between you.

With every movement, you felt herself drawn deeper into the depths of ecstasy, your senses ablaze with the intoxicating sensation of your shared desire. You almost forgot Nanami, almost.

Nanami stepped forward with a commanding presence. Your eyes widened as you saw his cock – big, thick, adorned with veins. Nanami’s hand reached out and he gripped your hair. With a firm, he pulled you closer to his cock, his larger and thicker shaft now in stark contrast to Gojo's.

"Thought Gojo would be the only one having fun now? Open your mouth, slut, I’m going to fuck your face."