#all the water analogies

[finitevariety]

Andrei Tarkovsky (1972) Solaris | Jeff Wall (1989) Photography and Liquid Intelligence | Kaja Silverman (2015) Water in the Camera

[squiredpengu]

Hello I am back to talk about Freddie and Grace obvious spoiler warning here

I have so many thoughts (as I am creating a Playlist/fanfic and still cannot replay the game) and like it's just so sad when you think about the aftermath of Grace being unable to save Freddie 💔

I've only barely delved into the Orpheus DLC, but the fact remains Grace would've lost so much. Like I haven't done one where she wasn't saved with the DLC yet (my Pan romance save still need to do Freddies) - but imagine the loss after that and again finding yourself unable to know what to so afterwards.

Like Grace shows up pretty much lost again like she is at the beginning of the original game after what she decided to do post game - so not much time has passed (probably a few months to a year at best)

Like I understand why the "choice" is vague in her reference, but ugh girl it hurts to think about. Like where do you go after all the "idol" introduction business is done and you just exist? Like they establish it's kinda just normal now in the world for them to be there.

I love how they mention what happens after the epilogue, even if it's brief. But just would she be able to properly grieve for Freddie? Would she visit Hades, to the throne room? Would she visit the Reliquary? What would she do with Freddie's hat? Her stuff? Her relationship to music has to be bittersweet.

I'm definitely exploring these questions in my fanfic, but man it does hurt to think about 🥲

[idontevenuse-thissite]

"Killing curse green eyes" is a description that should be reserved for a Harry that is an alarmingly few amount of steps away from using said curse.

[katyspersonal]

Okay aside from ibuprofen, I have a serious question for when you feel better—

How do you think Rom felt after she ascended? Do you think she gained any sort of higher perspective that allowed her to see what the others she had left behind were doing and to look back on her own life? Could she see Micolash? Caryll? Willem? Yurie? What did she think of all their goals and ends…most of all…why was she hiding the rituals? To save the world from Mico’s horror or to help him hide his sins out of some lingering sense of care? Was she even think much at all? I wanna hear your thoughts!!

Well hmmm 🤔 First things first, I always felt like Willem urging the hunter to go in the lake was a signal from him to hunt Rom, which I think would be counter-productive if Byrgenwerth's goal was TO conceal that specific ritual! My interpretation is that Rom was a volunteer to conceal the horrors of the cosmos prior to what Micolash did; as far as Byrgenwerth and Willem were concerned, she was their special asset to gatekeep the Eldrich Truth from those who are not ready to handle it, as well as the one concealing Byrgenwerth ITSELF! Argh, this is a slightly long theory to recite, so I will just link it here: ( x ). Byrgenwerth we see in "reality" is only a very small building, and the rest of it (Lecture Hall) is between Nightmare and the waking world! The true univercity used to be accessed through the lake like a portal! .....really, please, just check the linked theory ;-;

So yeah, that's the gist of it! Rom knows that if 'unprepared' people witness a cosmic horror - nothing good will come out of it, and also chooses to protect Byrgenwerth. She cared for humanity in general and the evolution, just like other best Byrgenwerth scholars! So, protect humanity, but also ensure the research to improve it continues.

It was my recent idea that what happened with Byrgenwerth was a very similar effect to creation of Hunter's Dream - Rom having sort of a "pact" with Ebrietas instead! Now, yeah, whether she REALIZES what she's doing is a question that torments me to this day! @_@"

The best explanation for Willem's gesture I can give is that he is aware of Mensis Ritual and wants it stopped, realizing how damning it is for humanity! Damian, the one from School of Mensis himself works with us to break Rom's concealment, too... Like I said before, insanity for "strong ones" and beasthood for "weak ones" could never be stopped by any means as long as ritual is ongoing! The note in the Hunter's Dream for us is my best clue for this headcanon:

The night of our Hunter ends when Mergo is silenced (aka ritual is stopped), so this would be the 'source'. Rom's barrier mitigates the severity of the ritual's effects, but doesn't stop it. Her barrier is penetrable for those who are "ready" (you start to see things like Amygdalae even through her concealment if you have enough Insight), but Mensis Ritual is special in how it still bears effect on people in Yharnam whether they are aware of it or not. One could completely avoid blood and eyes both, but as long as ritual is ongoing, sooner or later they WILL give into either beasthood or madness.. That is not very acceptable, right?

My version of Yurie becomes aware of what is happening, together with Fauxsefka, but agrees to let it happen. She thinks that keeping the ritual but also concealing it could cause a positive effect on humans by making their conscious evolve sooner or later.. So, what if some people become beasts instead of elevated as the cost? Can't help everyone! Fauxsefka thinks she is a callous bitch for that and bails. Laurence, I think, would be really proud of the way she thinks, on the other hand.. Willem, like I said, doesn't seem to agree with something so drastic! (Sadly, the only way to stop the ritual would be to first unveil it, which.. not everyone could survive. Like ripping the bandage.) But Rom is... still up for questioning.

Prior the spider form, Rom did believe in making people smarter through "deception". She witnessed the 'cursed', 'forbidden' knowledge beyond 'Stars and Moon' early and knew that Choir people would not listen. And she did hide Micolash's true antics at Mensis, trusting him to figure things out in his own way. And to do things that no one else would have the courage to do, herself included. I think it would be very bittersweet if even after her ascension, Rom still blindly trusted Micolash to figure everything out while she covers his back, even if now at more instinctive level. So, when Micolash decided to lock the Lecture Hall passageway to protect himself further (after Edgar betrayed the Choir for him), Rom just... let it happen. Helped, even! Placing herself in opposition against Willem. During her human life, she allowed Micolash to do a lot of awful things - with herself too, using her as a test subject, believing that she was "too stupid to decide such things" and Micolash always "knew better", so could that persist even now? That... deep trust, even in the most insane plan, not knowing that Micolash completely lost the objective.

But on the other hand, the idea of her being so completely lost within her own power that she doesn't even understand what happens (and when) is really appealing! That she just experiences and observes so many things, in so many timelines, on so many levels at once... well, until Hunter trying to kill her would make her focus on their specific universe and timeline. :') But yeah, complete transcendence + theme of a powerful "idiot god" that doesn't realize their power is really good. So, yeah, Rom doesn't leave the lake past the Mensis Ritual because of either blind faith in Micolash's plans or because she just... well, everywhere. She might not even notice with how many other things she's seeing. The motivation of milking the "use" of the ritual's effects I already gave to Yurie. 🤔

I just think the whole vibe of her being a genius that never credited herself properly fits her the best! She kept hearing that she was too dumb to decide for humanity or herself from the only family she had and just... agreed with it? Although she is aware that progress is impossible without sacrifice and very daring experiments, as soon as Mensis Ritual happens, Rom believes that "smarter people know what they're doing"... if she IS still aware of anything. Whatever Micolash is doing, he has good intentions and knows what is the price and the result, right...? RIIIIIIIGHT?? Yurie, Damian, Willem and Fauxsefka know Micolash is batshit, though.

If she still has some lucidity - she can "see" people that she used to know, yes. She just would not think of them or miss them in the same way us normal humans do... Memories would be torn, like in a dream, she'd know of Yurie, Micolash or Caryll but not have lucid comprehension of becoming a bit too "enlightened" to interact with them normally. Most of her attempts to interact with someone would transcend the space and time, but also she'd be too incomprehencible in this way... Not even for the most Insightful people. It could come like a dream, or like sixth sense, and Rom would "envision" herself as still a human. Close person like Yurie or very smart person like Caryll would still guess that the strange 'feeling' must be Rom, just not able to grasp her. That'd be beyond their perception! Micolash, that lil shit, would think whatever he could perceive to be a sign from Kos, though. -_-" I think even Ebrietas would not be able to truly grasp Rom now, should she try to contact her via the 'astral projection'! Think of it as almost no one having enough Insight / Eyes Inside to see her like this... This is very lonely, like being a ghost. Rom has to be there physically to communicate! But she should NOT leave the darn Lake!!

Patches, who is also a 'spider', got split across the multiverse in a much more solid way, of course 🤔 Rom is simply Too Many Things to have a similar fate... becoming a person-per-universe is too little to contain her, at least yet. Great Ones are more complex than just bald lil shit who messed with something forbidden!

[dahlia-molinas]

no i've never watched succession yes i can give you a full analysis of important symbolism and parallels in the show, each character's arc and how they interact with every other character in the show, but yeah no, i don't really know what waystar is. hope this helps

[bloodstained-ballgowns]

when phoebe bridgers wrote -

"playing would you rather when it comes to fire, you always say that you'd prefer to drown"

"sick of the questions i keep asking you that make you live in the past, but i can count on you to tell me the truth when you've been drinking and you're wearing a mask"

"all the bad dreams you hide, show me yours i'll show you mine"

"for generations, they'll romance us"

"you're sick and you're married and you might be dying, but you're holding me like water in your hands"

"can the killer in me tame the fire in you? i know there's something waiting for us. i am sick of the chase but i'm stupid in love, and there's nothing i can do"

"do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?"

- she was writing about Daisy Jones and Billy Dunne.

[valentines-wolf]

Me: -goes to psychiatrist dressed fem cus uno i have to stealth and dos i can-

Psychiatrist: normally when trans men come to me they don't have long hair and earrings lol

Psychiatrist: -diagnoses me with disharmonic personality instead of adhd after not interviewing me about my symptoms- that'll be 200pln

[emotional-piece-of-meat]

Duke spent all his childhood and most of his teenage years in a middle class family, so I like to think that he carried these habits into his rich life as well.

Example 1:

Duke: who the fuck is wasting our water? Do you know how expensive the bill will be next month?

Tim: Do you know that even if we had opened all the taps in the manor, Bruce would still have no problem paying for them for at least the next ninety years?

Duke, closing the faucet: yeah, what's your point?

Example 2:

Duke: It's literally a rip-off! Six dollars for a fucking yogourt?! Nah, let's go Cass, bet I can find an analog for three.

Cass, handing him the hundred dollar bill that Bruce gave them to buy two yogourts (he didn't know the price and just hoped that it was enough): ?

Duke, dragging her out of the store: It's a principle now, let's go.

Example 3:

Dick, accidentally dropping his phone: oopsie-

Duke, without thinking: of course, go on and break it. We are all billionaires here, aren't we?

Dick, pretty much confused: well, technically…

Duke: I see you, victim of capitalism.

He also constantly turns off the lights when someone leaves the room for more than 0,5 seconds, because it pisses him off.

[grinchwrapsupreme]

Saw a post about helping people that used the analogy of "if you see someone fall off a cruiseship and theres a life preserver ring on the wall next to you do you walk away or do you throw them the life preserver? Of course you throw them the life preserver." And i dont want to add to or tag the post with any sort of correction because its literally not the point at all but i am desperate to say that the first thing they teach you when you work on a cruise ship is that if someone falls overboard you Do Not Look Away

If theres a life preserver nearby but you have to turn your back to get it, tough luck. If theres someone nearby who can't hear you but you could run and get them, absolutely not. You see someone go overboard you point at them and never ever let them out of your sight because looking away even once could mean losing them forever, so you just have to trust that someone will hear you scream for help but you cant for any reason look away

And maybe that adds to the life preserver metaphor somehow but mostly i just need you to know if you spot someone in the water you point at them and you watch them close and you scream for help

[bet-on-me-13]

The cult of...Danny Fenton?

So! Way back when Danny first moved into his new neighborhood in Gotham, he had some trouble controlling his Powers. The different Types and Levels of Ectoplasm in the air when compared to Amity had thrown off his control.

He was used to being in places where his Ectoplasm meshed well with the Atmosphere, like a Water Balloon in a Pool, but in Gotham that analogy would be closer to a Water Balloon in the sewers. It was too different from what he was used to to fully control his Powers.

So it's understandable that he messed up a few times and his neighbors found out about his Abilities.

They took it well at first, Danny wasn't going to go Rogues or anything, and he never used them maliciously, but eventually they got curious.

They asked what his limits were, how he got them in the first place, and what the hell the Ghost Zone was. The answers "None Really", "I died and was reborn", and "A Collective of every Afterlife at once" did spark some interesting reactions from them.

Most importantly, a few of them joked about him being an Eldritch God that they needed to worship. He was good enough friends with them that at that point they felt comfortable pranking eachother, so they did just that.

Danny woke up one day on his birthday, and saw all of his friends and neighbors surrounding the makeshift Throne they had made and put him on while he was asleep. The entire day they chanted stuff like "The Great One requires Ms. Smiths Apple Pie for his day of birth!" And "The Great One Wishes for us to sing the Ritual Song! Happy Birthday to You! Happy Birth-"

After his birthday, they kept up the joke.

It didn't help that his powers had evolved Again! And now he could bestow abilities onto his friends. The jokes they made about their God granting them Supernatural Powers to rule the world with were insufferable.

Then, one day while he was just resting at home, watching a movie on his TV, he felt a Pull at his Core. The same kind of Pull whenever he was being summoned. But why would they summon hi- Oh Shit! It's Mr Jenkins Party today! He was supposed to meet them at the Warehouse they used for special events an Hour Ago!

He quickly accepted the Summoning, but was met with a suprising sight. His Neighbors all tied up in a pile to his right, a spilled table of party food to his left, and right in front of him, Batman and his Family watching him with wary eyes.

Slowly, he opened his mouth. "...so, did you come for the party or..."

[kitten4sannie]

middle of the night

pairing: boyfriend! san x fem! reader

genre: pure smut

summary: these days, san can never seem to get a good night’s rest, that is, until he’s able to completely unload himself inside his pretty little girlfriend. good thing you‘re laying right next to him.

w.c: 2.1k

warnings: mean dom! san, subby painslut! reader, both of these mfs are nymphos, somno that turns into full blown sex (they have an established agreement and there is strict consent involved), san’s got a big curved cock as per usual, pet names/name calling, praise/degradation, manhandling, tit play, spit, finger sucking, pussy slapping, marking, possessiveness, spanking, vaginal/anal sex also known as the two for one special <3 (psa: never switch from ass to pussy irl btw), rough altered missionary/doggy/back to missionary, san puts reader in a headlock (muahahahah), creampies, squirting, breeding kink, bulge kink, dumbification, brief oral, san eats his own cum out of reader, this is really filthy btw i should be locked up :3c

a/n: i literally can’t stop writing bc of the horneee that is constantly brought upon me against my will 😞 it’s all san’s fault </3 also i realized i’ve only written one fic about somno like two thousand years ago even tho it’s in my top ten kinks so i gotta fix that <3 *screams* i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed coming up with it~

song recs: angel by massive attack - beware by deftones (GRRRRRRRR BARK BARK)

San couldn’t seem to stop tossing and turning in bed, forcing his eyes shut and waiting for one side of his pillow to grow far too hot for comfort, before letting out a frustrated groan and rolling onto his other side, his cheek squished against the feathered pillow. Squinting at the glowing analog clock on the bedside table across from him, San blinked a few times, his eyes getting used to the darkness inside the room. It was already nearing dawn and he still hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. There had to be some kind of solution.

It was then that you shifted besides him, emitting a soft moan and rolling onto your back, your loose tank top lowered just enough so that one of your tits had popped out of it, creating another obstacle for San to overcome, one that wouldn’t let him fall asleep until he confronted it.

“Fuck,” San whispered to himself, pushing the covers down far enough to confirm his growing problem. With half-closed, tired eyes, your boyfriend watched his cock repeatedly throb upwards against his loose black sweatpants, as if it was begging him to do something, and quick.

Hs thought back to a conversation you had earlier that week, one you brought up after he had just got done fucking you all over the house in every position imaginable. Like many of your sex marathons, it was initiated because of something simple — you being bent over the washing machine to fill it up with a load of detergent, which, of course, led to San filling you up with his own load in every possible area of your house, including the back patio when you tried to water your poor succulents.

“Sannie, you might as well fuck me when I’m asleep too, at this point,” you giggled, running your fingers through San’s soaked hair, admiring the way he looked in between your legs, with his mouth and tongue exploring your leaking, cum-filled cunt.

“You mean that, angel? My dumb slut wants me to fuck her even dumber in her sleep?” he asked in between licks, humming softly as he continued to languidly clean you up after the destruction he caused to your used hole. It was his favorite pastime, besides rearranging your insides and painting them white with his seed, of course.

Moaning at his mean words, you tugged on his hair, rubbing your soaked pussy in his face like you always did. “Yes, I mean it, baby. Now, shut up and clean up your mess.”

Before San knew it, he was hovering over you, your thighs wide open and resting against his own, your loose, nonexistent sleep shorts tossed to the side so that he could eagerly rub his slick cock along your plush folds, his thick, calloused fingers exploring every inch of your heated skin, groping at your soft thighs, your hips and waist, eventually getting distracted by your tits, rolling your tank top up over them until they spilled out into his greedy hands. He squeezed and rolled them around, bringing his drooling mouth down to your chest to drag his hot tongue up and over your tits until they shined with his spit, pinching your puffy nipples in between his teeth until you whined out in your sleep, feeling your arousal leak out onto his pulsing cock when he finally pushed inside.

“Mmn, my angel is such a good little cocksleeve, so fucking wet for me even in her sleep,” San sighed lovingly to himself, sucking one of your tits into his mouth, spitting on it for good measure, before exchanging it for the other, moaning around your soft flesh, his eyes never leaving your pretty flushed face, even though you weren’t even awake to look down at him.

Unable to hold himself back, he began to buck his hips wildly into you like he always ended up doing when your tight, warm cunt sucked him in the way it did, the headboard beginning to bang loudly against the wall behind it. Grunting, San licked up from your spit-laced chest to your neck, sucking and biting into it, leaving his mark on you. “My baby, my sweet girl, you’re mine, all mine, even when you’re dreaming,” he whispered against your slick skin, slowly pulling back when he heard the breathy gasps you were letting out turn into full-blown moans.

“S-sannieee, I’m so full,” you voiced in a sleepy tone, reaching up to rub your tired eyes, studying your boyfriend’s rosy cheeks and lips, the way his drenched hair stuck to his forehead, a few drops of sweat landing on your face, unable to look away from his intensely dark, lust-filled gaze. “Is my pussy making Sannie go crazy?”

A low growl erupted from San’s throat, a vein starting to grow taut against his skin, now that he was pounding into you with abandon, reaching up underneath your thighs to forcibly fold you in half like you were nothing but a doll for him to use. “Your slutty cunt always drives me crazy, princess, so be good and take responsibility, hm?”

Barely able to breath now that you were akin to origami, your brain grew delightfully fuzzy from the lack of oxygen, encouraging the hazy, half-asleep state you were still in and the oversized cock that was being driven relentlessly into your cervix to work in tandem until pleasure overtook your body to the point of orgasm. “Fuck, Sannie, baby, fffuuck, I’m cumming…!”

“Oh, my dirty girl, creaming yourself so soon?” San mused with his lips quirked into a shit-eating grin, his dimples and canine teeth on display. Just as your eyes begin to disappear underneath your fluttering eyelids, San suddenly grabbed you by the chin, reaching down in between your sweaty bodies to smack his hand down roughly against your spasming cunt. “Look at me when you’re squirting on my cock, baby. You know better.”

“S-sannie, it’s so, oh my god–” you cried out, opening your mouth to moan and instead feeling his thumb slide over your tongue, your lips closing around it. You continued to suck on his thumb as he fucked you through your first mind melting orgasm of the night, biting into it when he smacked your cunt again with his free hand.

“Owww, bad girl.” San watched you lick and suck on his thumb with a lecherous smile plastered on his red, sweaty face, rubbing his other thumb roughly into your puffy clit, rolling it in circles until he felt your thighs trembling nonstop against his moving body, suddenly stopping his movements to sheath himself fully inside you, groaning heavily as he flooded your pulsing cunt with his hot load. “Mm, you feel that, princess? I’m pumping all my cum into this slutty womb of yours, so I can get you nice and knocked up for me…You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Just as he pulled his thumb out of your drooling mouth, you clasped your hands onto his cheeks, looking up at him hearts in your teary eyes, and begging, “Yes, Sannie, I like it, love it so much. Can I have more?”

And there it was. You might’ve been the love of his life and his beautiful angel of a girlfriend, but you were still his personal breeding bitch at the end of the day — and in the middle of this hazy, sleepless night.

“Oh, yeah?” San hummed, slowly pulling out of you and running his fingers through his wet hair, just for it to fall back into his half-lidded eyes, watching as his cum began to flood out of your gaped, fluttering hole. He wanted nothing more than to eat it out of you, his mouth watering at the thought of tasting the warm saltiness mixed with your sweet squirt on his lips, but he still had to pursue his mission of pleasing his baby. “My little slut still hasn’t had enough?”

“No, Sannieee, I need your cock in my other breeding hole. Please?” you whined softly, pouting up at him, hoping you’d get your way now that you were fired up and desperate for him to fill and own as many of your holes as he could before the both of you fell victim to drowsiness.

San closed his eyes to ground himself for a second, not even fully prepared for the filth that you exuded, despite being quite the pervert himself. When he opened his eyes back up, he looked down, his curved cock now painfully stiff and twitching upwards into his heaving abdomen, somewhat winded from how hard he had been fucking you just a moment ago. “Head down, ass up, little slut. Don’t make me ask twice.”

And just like that, you were lying with your head pressed into bed, drooling heavily from both ends, getting saliva onto the arousal stained mattress, your sopping wet cunt pushing out all of San’s load and causing it to drip down your inner thighs, your weak, bruised knees wobbling beneath you, your ass being relentlessly pounded into by your ravenous boyfriend. “Gonna cum, gonna cum–”

Your warning was cut off by a sharp gasp, just as San’s hand collided with the side of your reddened ass, his fingers grabbing into the soft, sensitive flesh until you whimpered pathetically. “You’re such a filthy slut, aren’t you?” he growled between gritted teeth, smacking the other side of your ass and making you cry out before you could answer him properly. He suddenly pulled out of your ass and forced himself back into your cunt, stuffing you completely full, hunching over you so that he could put you in a headlock, loose enough so that you remained conscious, but tight enough so that you could feel deliciously dizzy. “You’re my filthy slut. All mine to fuck raw, to ruin, to breed. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whispered hoarsely, opening your mouth up to accept his tongue inside when he closed in on you, feeling breathless once he manipulated your body until you were back underneath him, your legs near your head, his cock so deep inside your cunt that the tip of it created a prominent bulge inside your stomach, one that San was already palming as he began to shudder, his lips, teeth and tongue attacking your neck again to leave more marks, darker ones that you would have to put concealer over before you went to work the following morning. “That’s it, that’s it, cum inside me, San, please, make me yours!”

“You’ve been mine since the beginning, angel, but I’ll make you mine again, and again, and again,” San exhaled onto your lips, wrapping his arms protectively around you, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his tip just about kissing the entrance of your cervix, your bodies so entangled together, neither of you knew where the other began. You gazed into each other’s hazy eyes, moaning into each other’s open mouths, as another seemingly endless flood of thick, hot cum claimed your womb. “I love you so fucking much, it hurts.”

“I love you too, San,” you sighed back, caressing his heated face, your fingers slipping into his hair just as he began to lower himself down, shuddering at the sensation of his lips and teeth making their mark on your chest, abdomen, hips, then gasping when he made his way to your center, his hot tongue slipping inside your pulsing cunt.

Like every time before, San ate his warm load out of you like a starved man, his nose nudging your sensitive clit as he moved his head in an up and down motion, coaxing more of the saltiness onto his tongue, reaching up to rapidly rub your clit just because he could, pleased with the way you began to cry and shake, your warm squirt pouring down his throat. He swallowed it all down with a low, pleased groan, dragging his tongue up and over your used, puffy cunt to collect the last few drops of nectar, before he finally felt tired enough to collapse down onto the bed next to you.

With the last ounce of his strength, he pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then to your lips, letting you taste your combined essence. “Bedtime?” San whispered, cradling and rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs, looking at you with a fondness that bordered obsession. He chuckled softly, giving you a dimpled smile. “I promise I won’t wake you up again.”

“You won’t wake me up, but you still might fuck me in my sleep? Huh, nympho?” you teased jokingly, cradling his face back, so close that you breathed in the same air, your eyes never leaving his, despite how heavy your eyelids began to feel. “I need my sleep, you know.”

San was in a similar state, starting to drift off, his hands leaving your face so that he could wrap them protectively around you. “Sorry, baby. I’ll try to be quieter next time,” he murmured, letting out a soft giggle, pressing a kiss to your lips just as his eyes began to close. “Just don’t be mad at me when you wake up with my cock still inside you…”

Leaving a kiss on his nose, your eyes started to close as well, completely relaxing into your boyfriend’s warm embrace. “I’ll be mad if it’s not still inside me.”

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[zebulontheplanet]

I think people have greatly watered down autism into this silly label or identity that they can collect.

I’ve seen multiple posts that defend that autism should be an identity, similar to how sexualities and gender labels are. I think they’re missing multiple things with this analogy. First, you cannot help your queerness. It’s not simply a “label” it’s your whole being. It’s who you are.

I want people to realize that autism is a serious disorder for over half of people diagnosed with autism. From more then 30% being higher support needs, to more than that having different comorbidities, it’s a serious disorder. Not only can it affect every aspect of your life, it can severely affect how your health is, how independent you are, etc.

To a lot of people autism isn’t “a silly label” it’s a disorder. A disorder that comes with comorbities, that affects how they speak or don’t speak, how they view the world, how the process or dont process things, etc.

Higher support needs people need to be recognized, and in turn you have to recognize the disorders that they have. You can’t ignore them. You can’t simply shrug it off as a silly little label or identity.

People deserve to have their life altering disorders taken seriously and not turned into something that’s shrugged off and seen as another add in the newspaper. Autism is serious. It’s a neurodevelopmental disorder. Say what it is. Don’t water it down.

That’s all.

[threewaysdivided]

Nut-free vegan-safe compound chocolate is hideously finnicky to work with but I would be remiss in my duties as Grandma-friend if I didn't make something for my tragically-allergic friends to partake in.

Flavours: Chilli-Coconut cream ganache (white sugar hearts), Vegan orange curd (pink glitter sprinkles), Vegan raspberry "cheese"cake (pink and white sprinkles)

(Masterpost on truffle-making principles)

[tired-teacher-blog]

Shouto usually says the most random things and asks the most unexpected questions regardless of his surroundings.

It's in his nature and you have grown accustomed to it by now, so much so, that you are no longer surprised with anything leaving his mouth.

Well, almost..

_ "I'm a fish." he utters confidently and straight into your ear, while pulling you closer and pressing your back to his chest a bit harder as you two are lying on the couch, watching your favorite show.

His deadpan voice startles you, so you tilt your head back to look him in the eye, only to be met with his usual expressionless face as he kept staring at the TV ahead.

_ "You're a what now?" you let out a defeated sigh while shifting your body so you're now lying on your back, giving him your full attention and trying to figure out what's exactly on his mind this time.

However, a part of you is not at all surprised with his statement, in fact, you're starting to believe that if he's being serious and is somehow a fish reincarnated in a human form, then everything will finally start making sense.

_ "A fish.. I'm a fish." he says it again with the same indifferent tone and unreadable face, only now, his mismatched irises are staring down at you.

_ "Shouto honey I love you, but if you don't start explaining right now, I'm going to scream." and you are really starting to believe that maybe he is speaking literally.

_ "I'm a fish and you're my water, so if you ever leave I'll just die, much like a fish out of water." he blurts out all at once, still staring down at you with the same look on his face.

You suddenly let out a soft giggle and turn on your other side so you're now facing him, extending a hand to cup his cheek, and brushing your thumb gently along the scar reaching under his eye.

You are amazed by his analogy, and you have many questions to ask, but only one is forming in your brain right now, "why didn't you just say that you love me? Wouldn't that be simpler?"

_ "Because it's not as simple as that, it's a lot more, you are my home, just like water is to a fish, and I wanted to convey it properly." a hint of a smile is finally showing on his lips, and a blinding sparkle is appearing in his eyes.

Home..

Your heart squeezes almost painfully in your chest, and your eyes start to water at his words, you do realize the significance of that word to him because he wasn't raised in a typical and loving household, nor could he ever understand the meaning of it, so being called his home, the place where he belongs, puts you in a rollercoaster of emotions that almost overwhelms you, but in a wonderful way..

_ "I love you Shouto.. and I'll be your home.. Just as you are mine."

He might say the most random things and ask the most unexpected questions regardless of his surroundings, but he's as easily able to make your heart race and face light up.

Your very own sweet fish...

[ceilidho]

fear of god

prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 4 masterlist

-

At the quantum level, an electron can behave as both a wave and a particle. It is the act of observing it that confines it to a single form. The electron that once could’ve passed through multiple openings at once is forced to choose a single path when observed. 

Because what the eye sees becomes—

“—real,” you whisper, staring up at the face hovering in the window beside your bed. His smile doesn’t waver. “You can’t be real.”

“Sorry about the other day,” he says, instead of answering. “I got a bit lost after you left.”

Again, you pinch the soft skin of your thigh to wake yourself up and twitch when the pain sets in. The reassurance that you’re still awake doesn’t go a long way towards reassuring you. 

“This isn’t real,” you repeat to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and breathing heavily out through your mouth. “This isn’t real.”

Your words are met with a silence so profound that it almost feels as though you’ve plugged your ears, until you open your eyes and he’s still there, waiting right outside the window.

The blue lights around the inside of the window glow soft against his dark skin. You can make out the finer details of his face up close—the smoothness of his skin; the faint scar on his cheek; the fine grooves in his plush bottom lip. Too beautiful to have spent the last several days without food or water or sleep or fresh oxygen. You, with access to all of those resources, feel grimy; gritty. Skin tight against the bone, and hollowed.

“Was that you? Before?” you ask, thinking of the astronaut you saw drifting out in the distance, so lifeless and limp that you imagined the body within it long expired. 

He nods. The motion is slow, deliberate; still that sluggishness analogous with zero gravity. 

You wait for him to volunteer more information, but he just smiles wordlessly at you. It’s difficult to know where to begin. You’ve always been the kind to break a problem down into smaller, more manageable parts, but with this you don’t even know where to start. Its bigness is all you can focus on. The enormity of it. 

“Where did you go?” you ask instead. “You weren’t—…you were gone when I came back. We couldn’t find you.”

He blinks. “Elsewhere.”

“You can…move around out there?” 

“I can.”

His deliberate evasiveness frustrates you. Ostensibly one-dimensional with his glib charm and easy smile, but with an unplumbed depth. His response provokes more questions than it answers, and you can tell that it’s intentional. 

But again you’re prescribing an internal locus of control to an apparition that has been proven to exist only in your head. It can only supply you with information that you already have. 

And that’s the real quandary, isn’t it? The thing that has you whispering softly to yourself oh no oh no oh no oh no in the quiet of your room. Your body knows that the front door of your mind lies on its side, ripped from the hinges, dirt mounds blackening the entryway. And now outside stands a man, waiting to be let in. 

“How am I able to hear you?”

He smiles. “You must just want to listen.”

You huff out a breath through your nose. There it is again. 

“Who are you?” you ask, and you know that his answer won't matter. It won't matter because it won't be real. Because it's just you in your head and the words are too loud and whatever sickness is in your mind has crystallized in the body of a man that stares at you with a gaze too intense, too penetrating for what he is.

“You can call me Gaz,” he says simply, teeth peeking out from behind his lips when he enunciates the name. Glinting sharp like bone in the blue light. 

His answer makes you blink. It doesn’t seem like a name that you would come up with, but the mind works in mysterious ways. You didn’t think it could conjure up a person either, and now look at what’s happening to you. And it is happening to you, of that you’re sure. 

“Are you going to let me in?” he asks before you can open your mouth again.

He presses his gloved hand to the window. The folds in the fabric spread with his fingers, the pads of his fingers flecked with dust and grime, worn from years of use. 

You give a curt shake of your head. 

“Love…” Gaz says warningly. 

In the few days since he first appeared in the window, you’ve never heard him use that tone. You’re not too proud to say it frightens you. Whether he’s real or just in your head, so far Gaz has been perfectly affable, and you’re not sure you’re willing to face the implication that he might not always be that way. 

“I need to sleep,” you plead. “T-tomorrow—I’ll…I’ll think about it tomorrow.”

You press a button on the wall that drops a panel over the window with a quiet shunk, blocking Gaz from view.

When he knocks again, a shiver ripples down your spine. Guilt twists your insides up in knots. All you can do is pull the comforter over your head and block your ears. 

By morning, the temperature in your room has dropped a degree. You bundle up in a thicker sweatshirt and boots before going for your morning cup of coffee, but for the first time since takeoff all those months ago, you head for your work station instead of sipping your coffee in the cockpit. 

You start to hear him no matter where you are on the ship, a window no longer necessary. Always it comes after two solid raps against the hull of the ship, the sound jolting your heart into a frantic beat, pulse fluttering wildly under your skin. And then his voice, muffled through the layers of aluminum and titanium alloys, but intelligible despite the impossibility of it all. 

Sometimes, you respond. Just a few words to acknowledge his existence, even when the wall separating the two of you is impermeable, only his voice accessible to you. 

That makes it worse somehow though. Displaces his voice from his body, forcing you to reckon with his presence like a symptom of a bicameral mind, your own thoughts projected from you into the world. What difference is there between his voice and an audio hallucination? You should know better than to indulge in it. 

You’re beginning to understand the real root of the problem. The crux of it all. There’s a box in your mind labeled psychosis, and in the months of prolonged isolation and discomfort, you’ve inadvertently unshelved it, pulled it out of its storage space and peeled the lid open, all of its contents now released into the world. 

The thought is terrifying. You wonder if you can even trust your own mind, if everything is now compromised. Can you even trust what you see in front of you, or have you made it up as well? The thought is so disturbing that it paralyzes you in your bed at night. 

You’ve taken to sleeping in the medbay because it’s one of the few rooms without access to any exterior walls. Several other crew quarters separate it from the hull, while the main corridor runs along the other side. It’s the only place where you’re able to get a decent night’s sleep, though the lights stay on, fluorescent white at all times, programmed to stay at full brightness in case of an emergency. 

Even the sight of your own reflection makes you flinch until you realize it’s just you. 

One twenty-four hour period cycles into the next, pulling you into its embrace like crossing over an event horizon, your future self already distended out in front of you. 

In an effort to finally put you to good use (you try not to resent the implication when it’s framed like that), Farah tasks you with conducting pressure checks on the fuel tanks and lines around the ship while she continues to focus on the issue with the cruise control. You’re tasked with attaching a pressure gauge to the tank and increasing the pressure while keeping an eye out for any leaks or drops in pressure. A task simple enough that even the uninitiated could perform it. Busywork. 

You shut down the part of you that beats on your chest and demands that you leave. That this isn’t your job; you were brought aboard for a particular purpose and this isn’t it. You could be conducting your own research instead in the comfort of your lab, ensconced in data on antimicrobial resistance in space or microgravity-induced orthostatic intolerance. Not checking fuel tank pressure.

Someone raps their knuckles against the wall nearest you from the outside of the ship, startling you. 

“Shit,” you curse, the pressure gauge slipping out of your hand and clattering to the floor. You sigh when you bend down to pick it up and wince when you notice a crack in the glass where it hit the floor. 

“Love? Is that you?” Gaz asks from the other side of the wall, voice muffled.

Ignoring his voice doesn’t keep your heart from beating harder. You try to focus instead on the task at hand, pressuring the tank to fifteen hundred psi and waiting for the needle to stabilize on the gauge. Nothing abnormal. You jot it down and move on to the next tank, removing the gauge and starting the process anew. 

Another thump against the hull, the sound sending a jolt through your body. 

“I know you’re there.” He sounds amused. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

How could you avoid someone in your head? You almost say as much but then catch yourself on the verge of opening your mouth. You turn back your task, scrolling down the checklist on your tablet. 

There’s an edge to his voice the next time he speaks. “This is starting to annoy me, love.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” you whisper, finally breaking, the stylus nearly slipping from your clammy hands. Brows scrunched, eyes shut tight. Another breath out to stabilize yourself. 

“Ah, there you are,” Gaz hums. “Thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

Just ignore it, you think, breathing in and out again. 

“You’d rather talk to Farah than me,” he says when you don’t respond, almost accusatory, and you nearly brush it off until you register what he said.  

“How do you know her name?” you hiss under your breath, turning your head to stare at the panel that his voice emanates from behind. 

“I thought I was just in your head,” he says, amused again. Voice lighter than a moment prior. Easygoing as ever.

You worry at your lower lip until the skin threatens to break. “Yes, but—”

“Who are you talking to?”

Your head whips around at the sound of Farah’s voice. You hadn’t heard the cargo hold doors open, but she stands in the doorway, staring at you with an unreadable expression, shoulders squared and hands on her hips. 

Your instinct is to ask her how long she’s been standing there, but that won’t serve you in the long run. You almost want to ask if she heard his voice too, but you don’t think you could handle her confirming to your face that Gaz’s voice is all in your head. 

“…No one.”

Her face hardens and you wonder if you made the wrong call choosing to lie to her. But what else should you have said? The wall behind you remains conspicuously silent.

The next few seconds under her gaze feel endless. Eventually though, Farah pivots on her heel without another word and leaves the way she came, the doors sliding shut behind her. 

The room bellows its cold ire. Only the sound of your own breathing reaches your ears. 

An hour passes. Possibly longer. The stress eats away at your insides. Though you don’t cross paths with Farah for the rest of the day, you can’t help the way every sound makes you flinch and glance towards its source. Jumpy; paranoid. 

You make yourself dinner when the galley is still empty and eat in the medbay instead of with the rest of the crew. The peppery aftertaste is more prominent than usual while you eat; you almost have to choke your food down. Almost metallic, like antiseptic. 

It happens again on your way back to your quarters. The lights cycle with the night and dim in the hallway, a soft pale glow like a low-hanging moon illuminating the floor in front of you. 

You catch him in the corner of your eye this time, no knock to signal his presence. Just an astronaut hovering outside the window, nearly translucent with the absence of light. The fear that overcomes you is almost animalistic until it settles into the folds of your skin like an ointment rubbed in, and you turn to face him. 

It’s the same but different. You know what he wants. What he’s waiting for. 

“I don’t think I can let you in,” you whisper, looking away from the window to the other side of the hall. His gaze seers into the side of your head.

“Why not?” It’s the first time Gaz’s voice has sounded cold to your ears. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end. 

“I’m worried you’re not real. That maybe you’re just in my head. And I can’t—” You bite your lip, swallowing the warble in your voice. “—I can’t let them know I’m crazy.”

Let them know. As if it were a foregone conclusion. As if you’ve already passed the point of no return. But what other conclusion could you draw from your observations as of late? The constant disappearances and reappearances, his voice in your head only when you’re alone. His voice in general, somehow audible despite there being no medium for it to pass through. You’ve been ignoring his anomalous properties because you’ve been desperate to believe that your mind hasn’t been compromised. That you aren’t a danger to the people around you—a voice in your head telling you to open the airlock when there’s nothing out there in space. 

When you turn your head, he’s still there, eyes stony behind the visor of his spacesuit. He tilts his head and the visor glints black for a second, suddenly opaque, obscuring his face.

He looms like a figure straight out of death, imposing even from the outside of the ship. Your arms hang limp at your sides, locked in place under his gaze. Even the thought of moving fills you with dread. 

But he isn’t real; he’s just in your head.

When Gaz lifts his head again, his visor clears and his smile is pleasant again, back to what it once was.

“I’ll prove that I’m real. Wait for me, love.”

And then he’s gone, the view beyond the window night sky black. Gone between one blink and the next; faster than light.

[mister0ctopus]

Dolbeault's Theorem

Pairings: Top (wink hehehehe) Student JK  x Reader

Summary:  When you found out you’d be paired with the smartest guy in class for a math project, you couldn’t help but anticipate all the things you could learn from him.

Ratings: 18+ ONLY!!! MDNI!

Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents, JK is a warning but its ok because he is jeykey!!!

Au/Genre: Smut (X), Fluff if you squint (-_-), college au, they’re kinda cute idk, reader is needy

Word Count: 2.1K

Note: This is my first post… kinda nervous, but fuck it lololol please let me know what you think!!! Aaaaaaaagh

:)

🐙 Masterlist / AskMe!

When you found out you’d be teamed up for a math project with the smartest guy in class, you have two reasons why you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning like a fool:

you were certain your grades were gonna be great! At least you knew you wouldn’t fail.

you’d been nursing the fattest crush on him since last year.

There was just something about the way he explained complex formulas, his voice always calm and gentle. And then, there was the way he pushed his glasses up his nose, almost absent mindedly, mid-sentence while he’s patiently simplifying every confusing calculation.

So, you found excuses to sit closer to him. To brush your hand against his “by accident.” You don’t miss the way his jaw tightens. But he never touched you back. Never gave any indication he noticed your lingering glances or the way your voice softened just for him.

So, when imagining how his lips, or his cock, might taste as you touch yourself at night wasn’t enough anymore, you decided to take a chance. It was bold, it was brave. But you couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

One late afternoon, when the two of you were alone in the lab, you pushed your luck. It started with a subtle brush of your breasts against his arm while pretending to look at his computations. He froze, but he didn’t move away. Encouraged, you pressed harder and you saw his hand curl into a fist, his breathing falter, his jaw clench like he was fighting something within himself.

And then, when you felt there was no going back, you leaned closer, grazing your lips against his.

Silence.

Just the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t move either. And just as you were about to wish the ground would swallow you whole -

Jungkook kissed you.

It was gentle but full of intent. He kissed you like he had been waiting, holding back, and now he couldn’t any longer. He kissed you like he was studying you, tasting you, learning you.

From that day forward, you weren’t just partners in math—you were partners beyond the four walls of the classroom. Partners in exploring each other's bodies, learning each other's sweet spots, tasting each other's skin.

And as days pass you learn a lot about him – like how he’s gentle in the classroom but not in the bedroom. How he spoke softly in school, but rough in bed.

And you couldn’t help but anticipate all the things you could learn from him.

So, when Jungkook offered to teach you Dolbeaut’s Theorem, he didn’t realize the kind of lessons you were truly eager to receive from him.

The moment he sat in his chair and started explaining how Dolbeault's theorem is a complex analog of de Rham's theorem, your mind was on the dripping need between your thighs. So when he told you to focus on the lesson, you dropped to your knees, unzipped his jeans, freeing his already hard cock, your mouth watering at the sight of it.

Your tongue licking along the length of his cock, measuring his girth with your soft, eager lips, wrapping around his swollen tip.

His groans and filthy sounds filled the air as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper. His fingers tangled in your hair, pushing your head down further.

You choked, tears spilling down your cheeks as you took him to the base, your throat tightening around his cock.

“Fuck baby you’re gonna make me cum,” he hissed, voice strained as you licked and sucked, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head. The salty taste of his pre-cum drove you wild, and you feel your cunt clench.

He tastes so sweet so sweet you want more.

And when he couldn’t take it anymore, he grabbed you by the jaw, another hand on your back, as he pushed you to the bed.  

You were about to crawl onto the mattress when he grabbed you by the ankle, flipping you onto your back. In one swift motion, he dragged you to the edge of the bed, spreading your legs wide.

His mouth lapped on your wetness, his tongue flicking over your clit with determined precision. Your back arched as he sucked hard, the nasty wet sounds of his tongue against your pussy filling the room.

“Jungkook!” you cried, your hands fisting in the sheets.

He smirked against you. “So wet for me.”

When he slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right, your vision blurred. He pumped them hard and fast, his lips never leaving your clit.

“You taste so fucking good,” lips glistening as his fingers slammed into you harder, hitting that spot, driving you to the edge of release. But just when you were about to cum, he pulled away, leaving you gasping.

“Fuuuucccck!!! Kook, please!” you gasped, your voice trembling.

And as you writhed in need, hands clawing the sheets, he grinned – or was that a chuckle?

“Hmmm? What’s that baby?”

“Please baby, please…” you begged, whining, as you watched him pump his hard member, tip glistening with pre-cum. He rolled a condom over his length as he watched you squirm. He towered over you as he slapped his cock against your slick entrance, teasing you as he smirked.

“I need words baby girl” he taunted, tapping your swollen clit with the head of his cock.

You just groaned as you stared at his toned abs. Your hips lifted to try and take him in, but he held you down with a firm hand on your stomach.

“Fuck… this pussy” as he pressed just the tip of his cock inside, stretching you torturously slowly.

“Oh god…baby, please. More!” you pleaded, as your breath hitched in need.

“Greedy little whore,” he chuckled, sliding an inch more, slowly.

Oh, you want more. You need more more more -

“You think you can just suck my dick like that?”

You whimper in torment, sobbing, breaking –

He pushed another inch in quick and steady motions, but still not burying all in. And it's driving you crazy, so crazy you claw on his biceps.

“Jungkook! Please!!!”

He chuckled again, staring you down like the beautiful, pathetic mess you were. “You look so pretty like this,” he murmured, his gaze drinking in every inch of you.

Your velvet skin glowed under the light of the computer screen, and your dark hair sprawled messily across his bed.

You grind yourself to him, trying to take more of his hard dick.

“Goddamn baby. You want this dick? You want to take it all?” he growled, pushing in another inch, making you cry out.

Utterly helpless and succumbing to need, you yelled. “Jungkook, please! I need you to fuck me hard baby please!”

He gave a raspy laugh, leaning over you, his eyes dark with a promise. A warning?

“You act like a slut, you’re gonna get fucked like a slut. Do you understand?”

And with both his hands on your jaw, he slammed into you in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Your scream echoed in the room as he set a punishing pace, his cock hitting deep, every thrust stealing the breath from your lungs.

“goddamn, so fucking tight” he hissed, one hand now gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks.

You cried his name because words left you, and you can no longer form coherent sentences. You were so drunk on lust, feeling full of his dick – and yet, you still want more. You craved his dick every day and you couldn’t get enough of him.

“Turn over baby. I wanna see your ass” he ordered, flipping you onto your stomach before you could process his words. He yanked your hips up, pressing your face into the mattress as he entered you from behind. His hand fisting your hair, pulling your head back as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“You like being used, don’t you? Being my little toy to fuck however I want?”

 “Yes! Fuck!” you sobbed, your body trembling as he pounded into you.

He bit his lip, feeling you clench around his cock, his free hand snaking around to pinch your nipples, then your clit.

“You’re taking me so well.”

Your body tensed, the knot in your stomach tightening, your head blank but seeing stars, and all you can feel was his dick slamming torturously inside you. And as you thought you couldn’t feel fuller, he inserted his thumb into your asshole, his pace never faltering as he stretched you further.

“Fuck!” you cried, your head spinning from the overwhelming sensation.

“You like that?” he chuckled, his voice dripping with pride. “Taking my cock and my thumb like a greedy little slut?”

You could barely respond, drool in your mouth, your moans turning to screams as he fucked you harder, faster, both holes clenching around him as you feel the build to an unbearable peak.

“Speechless now, are we? You like all your holes filled?”

He grabbed the base of your hair, pulling you back to him so you could feel his chest, and hear him whisper filth in your ears. You’re feeling everything, everywhere all at once.

You’re so close, so fucking close –

“You coming baby?”

You could only respond with a nod and noises unknown to man.

“Yeah?”

His thumb pressing deeper, his cock slamming into you relentlessly as he bites the side of your jaw.

“Then come for me”

Your release hit like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as you screamed his name, along with words you couldn’t comprehend.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You come so hard you collapse on the mattress. How Jungkook can make you feel like his nasty little whore, you also don’t know. But you love it.

But just as you thought he was done, Jungkook’s hand slid between your thighs again, his thumb brushing over your abused clit. You jerked, a whimper escaping your lips as the overstimulation sent a jolt through your body.

“Oh, you thought we’re done?” panting, with a smug grin spreading across his face. "We’re not done baby."

“Jungkook, wha—”

And before you knew it, he slammed his hardness back inside you, fingers rubbing your clit until you arch into the sensation. He pressed kisses along your spine, his voice a soothing contradiction to the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Come for me again baby”

Your body obeyed his commands before your mind could catch up, pulse after pulse, as you ascended to the sky. He slams so hard you feel your eyes roll at the back. You're so close close clo-

“Look at you,” he said, his voice laced with pride. “So fucking perfect. Taking everything I give you.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you felt your thighs trembling. He watched you, his dark eyes devouring every reaction, every twitch and moan.

“Jungkook- im g-gona fucking come”

“I know baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “I know”

And so you come again. Your body shattered under his touch, your orgasm crashing over you in waves so intense that you couldn’t hold back the sobs that broke from your throat. Jungkook didn’t stop, movements quicker now, your walls milking him for all he was worth. He hissed, his thrusts growing erratic before he buried himself deep one last time, his cock twitching as he came hard, filling the condom with a groan.

Fuck.

You left the earth, because there’s no way that wasn’t heaven.

As you both came down from the high, you lay there, spent and trembling. He took his time easing himself out of you. Your spent body still twitching with aftershocks. He laughed lowly, leaning down to brush a soft kiss against your shoulder.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, baby,” he murmured, his voice gentle now, his hands soothing as he helped you sit up.

He disappeared for a moment, returning with a warm, damp cloth. The care he took in cleaning you up was almost as overwhelming as the pleasure he’d just given you.

When he was done, he climbed into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms. You nestled against his chest, inhaling his scent – a mixture of musk, vanilla, and sex.

“I think you did a great job explaining Dolbeaut’s Theorem tonight,” you joked weakly, your voice muffled against his warm skin

Jungkook chuckled. “Uh huh. Guess I’ll have to teach you another lesson tomorrow,” he sighed dramatically, his fingers brushing through your damp hair.

“And what’s that?”

“Equilateral triangle.”

“…because I have three equal sides?”

“Because you’ve got all the right proportions.”

You rolled your eyes. “Baby, sometimes you’ve gotta know where to draw the line.”

Before he could say another punny joke about lines, you kissed his smile and swallowed his laugh.

And once again, you feel the soreness in your core—a reminder of your just-concluded learning session today.

Oh, the perks of dating the smartest boy in class.