#basically a great excuse for me to be a perfectionist

[cake-emu]

romance is dead? not if Lisa Swain has something to do about it!

Coronation Street | Carla Connor + Lisa Swain

[artdnldsn]

gestalt therapy

college professor!art donaldson x fem reader

word count: 5.2k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, swearing, student!reader, age gap, porn w/ a little plot, head (f receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, slight degradation (question mark?), one mention of "daddy"

synopsis: you're done with your senior year at college, and all you want is a parting gift.

a/n: my first full fic here wow my first ever smut WOW the only thing that's not a first here is english because it's my second language so be patient pookies. college prof au has been haunting me for days so i needed to get it out. even though i have no fucking idea how colleges work in the us ;) hope you like it! happy reading

The first thing he notices about you is how ridiculously smart you are.

It's not even a stretch or him trying to justify the instant attraction he feels towards you. No, you're genuinely, undeniably brilliant, especially for your age. You've got this way with words, and concepts come to you so easily. You pick up on all his lead-ups to lecture topics, knowing exactly what the main conversation will be about a good five minutes before the rest of the class. You smile smugly, crossing your arms and leaning back, your eyes seeking his because you want him to know that you know.

And honestly, he'd be mad at you for being so smug if you weren't so damn smart.

The way you walk up to him after class to discuss your latest essay, your stance confident and voice sure, as you argue over why you deserved a 100 and not a 98. He's looking at your essay, then at you, then back at his computer screen, squinting just to appear like he's thinking it over, but he knows you're right; of course you are. Your essay is perfect. He was just being a dick about it, nitpicking because he couldn't admit you're basically flawless.

He's getting self-conscious about his teaching. There's nothing he can teach you—you come so prepared for every class that he wonders if you even have a life outside his classroom. Maybe your brain just works like that, but a small, selfish part of him hopes you spend hours prepping for his classes. The thought that you do it for him and not the subject is a nice one, but he shoves it away.

At least that way, it wouldn't be as pathetic for him to spend nights rewriting his lectures, perfecting his presentations to the point where he's sitting in his bed at 3 AM, pondering whether Times New Roman or Arial would make his point come across better.

He's always been a perfectionist, living by the book, striving not for greatness but for the reserved maximum of his natural capabilities. He never really pushed himself. But you—oh, fuck, you. Fuck you. You make him want to lose sleep just to prove to you or himself that he's certainly smarter than some college senior.

He calls you a lot of things in his head. A know-it-all, an "excuse me" because you're always "excuse me"-ing him like he doesn't have a name, a smartass, a bitch—he hates when he's in a mood like this last one because it signals it's time to sleep. You're a lot of things, but you're not stupid.

In fact, he starts wondering if you're a once-in-a-lifetime talent. Because he's rather young for a professor, he hasn't seen as many students as his colleagues, who always crack up anecdotes about past students, someone who graduated 15, 30 years ago, but the older professors still remember them. He wonders if he's going to remember you like that. He's pretty sure he will.

He's never even thought about you as a woman and not just his student. He's just respectful like that. Sure, you were hot, which only added to your confident allure. He's not blind—hell, he'd admit it if he had to—but he's never thought about you like that.

But apparently, you have about him.

You appear at his office doorstep minutes before he's about to clock out for the night. You're looking pristine as always, and with your silhouette illuminated by the office's dim lights, he wonders for a second if you're even human with your endless drive, brilliant mind, and hair that always looks like it's animated because it's impossible for real human hair to flow that perfectly.

"Good evening," he greets you, eyebrows creasing slightly in confusion. You've never visited, your final grades are in, and you're graduating in a week. He's already said his goodbyes to your class, and when he did, you shot him a little smile that he read as everything being good between you. What are you doing here then? "Can I help—"

“Are you impotent?” you cut him off, arms crossed, a challenging look in your eyes.

He actually chokes on air. “E-excuse me?” he mutters under his breath, his expression shocked, his voice strained. God, he’s ridiculed you for years in his head for addressing him like that, and here he is now.

You turn your back to him, lock the door, and make your way to his desk in confident steps. You sit on the edge of his desk, looking at him over your shoulder. "I asked if you're impotent," you shrug, arching your eyebrow.

“No,” he blurts out, his expression still one of pure horror as he doesn’t know where to keep his gaze, his eyes darting between the papers on his desk, and his computer screen, and his hands, anywhere but you. “God, no.”

“Why you never fucked me, then?” you ask, your tone still almost accusatory, but your voice soft. It’s almost like there is a hint of genuine regret in your words, and he doubts his sanity right now, wonders if he’s imagining things. He pinches his thigh under the desk, just to make sure.

“What do you mean, why?” he stutters, his cheeks flushed. “B-because.” Oh, God, it’s really bad. He’s really speechless, his mind unable to conjure up a full sentence. “Because you’re my student, and I respect you, and there are boundaries that shouldn’t be—“

“I’m not your student anymore. Not technically.” Your tone is matter-of-fact, one he’s too familiar with. One you’ve used to tell him about all the typos in his handouts, all the mistakes in his tests, all the times he’s fucked up grading someone’s papers. Only now you’re telling him… Fuck, he really can’t grasp what it is you’re telling him.

“I can’t argue with that, but I really don’t understand the point of this conversation. You’re completely out of—“

“Consider it gestalt therapy,” you shrug nonchalantly. He’s getting mad, really, with you cutting him off like that, like you’re getting back at him for years of having to listen to his lectures without having an opportunity to talk over him. It takes him a second to grasp what you’re implying. He clears his throat.

You sigh, letting your arms drop to your sides, sliding off the desk, walking up to him in these fucking deliberate strides, spinning him in his chair so he faces you, his hands lifted up in the air as if he is surrendering. He doesn’t know to what, exactly.

“Just really have to get this out of my system, Mr. Donaldson,” you sigh almost guilty, your gaze landing on his lap. He's hard, his cock straining the fabric of his trousers. Of course he is, what the fuck?

You cup him, eliciting a soft sigh from his lips, his eyes falling shut. You start stroking him through the fabric, confidently like everything you do. It makes his blood boil. You’re such a bitch. A know-it-all. A smart-ass. And so, so hot that he can’t bring himself not to kinda wish you’re intending to fuck his brains out.

He opens his mouth to say something, maybe a weak protest to give you a final out, but you lean down, pressing your lips to his in a languid, deep kiss, a thorough exploratory one like every single one of your fucking essays has ever been.

You move to his lap, straddling him, the chair creaking under your combined weight. Only when his hands move to your hips does he understand you’re wearing a skirt. God, he hasn’t even noticed that. He lets his hands stay there, caressing your bare thighs as your skirt rides up, and you lean in for another kiss.

There's no raw hunger. If anything, he’s sure he’s incapable of it in this situation, his mind still trying to catch up, trying to relabel you as not forbidden. You’re grinding against his growing erection, tugging at his hair as you deepen the kiss, your curves so unexpectedly perfect against him.

He only realizes you’re working on his belt and zipper when he hears them. Instinctively, he moves his hands to your wrists to stop you, but you just shake them away like you’ve shrugged him off all these years. He gasps into your mouth as you wrap your hand around his freed cock, stroking the length expertly, thoroughly, meticulously, as your lips never leave his. He actually relaxes into the chair, his hands gripping your waist, tugging your top up to reveal more bare skin.

No bra. Of course you didn’t wear any. You’ve come prepared as always.

You chuckle quietly, your lips continuing to move in unison with his, finding a lazy rhythm that drives you both insane. He reads this chuckle as you being amused at him taking any initiative. It makes his blood boil.

He breaks the kiss, one hand squeezing your breast firmly as he leans down, capturing your left nipple between his lips, sucking gently before biting. His other hand lands on your ass with a loud smack, making you gasp. Finally, some reaction.

He starts bucking into your hand, seeking more friction, moving his mouth to your other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, leaving a bite mark on the side, making you wince but moan. That moan—fuck, that beautiful sound. Now he’s angrier at himself than you are at him for not having fucked you sooner.

He understands you were expecting to ride him, like he’s some sexless creature, a toy to use, a dick attached to a fantasy that has nothing to do with the man he is, and it makes him even madder. He’s always admired your insightfulness, your capability to get right to the gist of things through walls of useless shit, but he’s feeling his respect for you slipping as he understands just how wrong you must’ve been about him in your head.

He peels himself off your chest, lips glistening with saliva, smacking your ass again, harder this time, groping both cheeks as he lifts you off his lap to sit you on his desk over the papers he’s grading. He’ll just tell everyone he spilled a drink. No one will miss them.

His lips find yours again in a searing hot kiss. It’s messy, all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to hurt you, but he’s not. Of course not. It’s just that something dormant is being woken up in him. You whimper as he cups your mound through your panties, making him chuckle. Well, look who’s laughing now.

"You've seriously dreamt about this?" he whispers against your jaw, his long fingers sliding into your underwear, finding your slickness. Fuck, you're so wet for him, it almost makes him black out. "Wanted me to fuck you on this desk? Or the one in the classroom? Or in the library? Or right in the fucking hall, huh? Why not? Let everyone watch." His tone is almost taunting, his every word accompanied by a painfully slow and teasing circle of his thumb over your swollen clit.

"Yes, yes, yes," you mutter, eyes squeezed shut, forehead pressing against his shoulder, hips bucking helplessly into his hand, seeking friction. It’s not clear if you’re answering his questions or begging him to go faster. It doesn’t matter; his smirk is already in place, his eyes glistening with amusement as he looks down at you, breathing hard through his nose.

"Yes, what?" he chuckles, shrugging, his eyes scanning every reaction on your face. The way your head falls back, your lower lip caught between your teeth, your cheeks flushed. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Yes, what?" he murmurs softly, his hand in your panties slowing down to the point of stopping.

A groan of disappointment escapes your lips as you snap your head back up, eyes darting open. He can see your pupils blown wide even in the dim light, the lamp on his desk illuminating you from behind like a renaissance painting. "Yes, fuck me," you say dryly, like it’s obvious, still seeing him as some pathetic, stupid nobody, but you’re slightly out of breath when you say it, so that’s a win in his book for now.

Just means he’s gotta try harder.

His arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place. He’s standing between your legs, keeping them spread wide for him. He pulls his hand out of your panties to bring it to your face, shoving two fingers into your pretty smartass mouth. Your eyebrows crease, eyes falling shut at the action, a hum leaving your lips, vibrating through his skin, but you still suck on them obediently, tasting yourself on his fingers and coating them in your saliva.

He slips one finger right inside you when it makes its way back down. He starts thrusting it into you at a steady rhythm, his lips finding your neck, nibbling on it, his teeth grazing your delicate skin, tongue sliding over the little marks his teeth leave there, as he curls his finger inside you, thrusting deeper, deeper, almost aggressively.

"God, I really thought you were smart," he mutters under his breath, hot against your skin as he adds another finger and starts stretching you, eliciting a soft moan from you. He leans down, sucking on your tits again, noticing how hard your nipples are now, almost painfully so, matching the way his dick is rock hard, still standing at full attention against his clothed abdomen. "Thought you were different. Hard-working. Proper." He sinks onto his knees in front of you, looking up at you with a glint in his eyes you can’t quite read. "Turns out you’re just a slut."

He tugs your panties down, his tongue finding your cunt, one of his hands moving to throw your leg over his shoulder, keeping it there tightly as the fingers of his other hand re-enter your cunt, starting to finger it at the same urgent pace, his tongue moving feverishly over your clit, making you moan quietly because, yes, there are still people in the building, you have to keep quiet, but a part of him, the one you’ve awoken, wishes the circumstances were different, that he could hear you scream for him.

He’s getting high off the taste of your juices, off the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils, his nose pressed into your pelvis as he fucks you with his fingers in a relentless rhythm, curling his fingers inside you, feeling your walls clench down onto him, searching for that sweet spot that’s going to make your toes curl.

“Tell me,” he rasps out, pulling away from your cunt just for enough time to say what he needs to say, peppering your inner thigh with kisses in the meantime. “Tell me exactly how long you’ve wanted this. And how you wanted me to fuck you. Leave no details out.”

You whimper when he delves back onto your clit, sucking on it, not caring to keep his teeth from grazing your sensitive skin here and there, but it’s a good feeling.

“S-since that lecture. Sophomore year,” you breathe out, you throat tight from holding back so many moans that are begging to be let out. Your mouth falls open in a silent ‘oh’ as he sucks your whole clit in, lapping at it with his tongue inside his wet hot mouth, your hand snapping instinctively onto his head, gripping his hair to pin yourself down to the reality. “You wore that slutty turtleneck, and of course I’ve thought you’re hot, but then you had one wrong date in your presentation, and I got so fucking mad at you. Thought you’re too careless to teach.”

He hums against your cunt, encouraging you to go on, or agreeing with your point, he can’t tell himself anymore. He’s completely gone at this point, drinking your juices like he’s drinking in your words. Amidst all this, he actually appreciates you not calling him stupid. You might’ve, but you didn’t.

“And you were always s-so passive, like I tried arguing with you, reading all that shit instead of going out just to get a rile out of you, and you never fucking bucked. I-I-I—“ you stutter, your mind going into overdrive for a second as he continues abusing your g-spot, his fingers moving at a frantic speed in and out, in and out. He smacks your thigh to get your attention back on the topic. “I just couldn’t fucking believe you. I was being a bitch, I was nagging you, just because. And you didn’t even care.”

He smiles into your cunt, a huff of air leaving his nose. At last, you admit it. He suddenly doesn’t feel bad at all for calling you a bitch in his head. He can feel your walls contracting around his fingers, your breathing irregular, you’re practically panting, your grip in his hair tightening as you guide him closer, rolling your hips against his tongue and fingers, seeking release. You’re close.

He pulls away, earning another cuss and another groan of disappointment off your lips. He smacks your thigh again, hard, the action leaving a red print of his big palm on your skin. “You didn’t answer,” he rasps out, delving back into you. Fucking students, he thinks to himself. Always so smart, thinking they know it all, and always forgetting to answer the second part of the question after they’re done answering the first.

Your mind is so hazy at this point, it takes you an effort to rewind the interaction in your head to understand what he means. “L-like this,” you whimper, your thighs trembling as he grips the one that’s not on his shoulder to stop it from shaking too much, keeping you in place. “I-I didn’t want you to be nice. You’re always so fucking nice, it’s not human, I knew it wasn’t true.”

He’s too set on making you cum to chuckle now, although it is pretty funny. He’s been doubting you’re human, too, but the way you gasp for air, trying desperately to hold back your moans as he feels you coming closer and closer to release, it tells him all that he needs to know. You’re just flesh and bones, not the perfect genius he’s painted you to be in his mind.

“Fuck!” you whimper, giving his hair one last tug before your hand springs up to cover your mouth, biting into your index finger to keep yourself quiet. It takes one slide of his fingers, one roll of his tongue, five seconds, and your muscles go taught as your hips buck off the desk, his pens in the glass standing on the edge of it clattering against each other, the keyboard of his computer flying up for a split second from impact of your ass slamming back down onto the desk. It’s like a mini-earthquake, that’s left your world erupt into white behind your closed eyelids.

He fingers you through it, lapping his tongue over your clit until you wince quietly from it hurting, and he pulls away reluctantly, standing up from the floor to stand in between your legs again. His neck and back hurt like hell from crouching down on the floor for so long, his muscles are not what they used to be, after all, and for a split second he considers actually giving up and letting you ride him, but it would be your win in his book, and he can’t allow that.

He spits on his hand before he leans down to kiss you, his tongue sliding back into your mouth, letting you taste yourself once again, as he brings his hand down to stroke himself, breathing softly out of his nose at the relief of some friction, finally. “You’re such a hypocrite,” he murmurs into your lips, softly, almost lovingly, the same fucking slightly condescending tone he’s always used in his classroom.

You open your mouth to ask what the fuck he means, but he pushes his tongue back into your mouth, all thoughts of a protest evaporating from your mind. You slide closer to the edge of the desk instinctively to accommodate him when he eventually pushes into you. You almost can’t wait.

He gropes your ass to position you like he wants you, his fingers digging into your plump skin maybe a little too hard. You don’t protest. He breathes heavily, like it’s physically paining him to hold back any second longer — it does,—and his brows are furrowed in concentration while he slides his tip over your clit, coating it with your slickness, the same way he frowns when he’s grading papers or goes over tomorrow’s lecture in his head.

He pushes inside in one determined thrust, piercing through you, a quiet grunt escaping his lips, a soft moan escaping yours. Before you have any time to adjust, he starts pounding his hips into yours, one of his arms hooked around your torso to keep you in place as his free hand flies to your chest, squeezing your right tit roughly, pinching your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and index finger, making it harden again.

“Careless?” he scoffs, an expression of pure disbelief on his face at the fact you’ve even dared to say that. He grunts again, his hand falling from your breast to your hip, gripping it firmly as he continues pounding into you, your breathing quickening again. He’s rather big, and it hurts a little from you still being sore from your orgasm, but you still moan softly under your nose, your wrists hurting from you leaning on the desk behind your back for so long.

“You call me careless for a typo in a presentation I made six years ago, and it’s not careless for you to come here, asking me if I’m impotent? Fuck you,” he grunts again, a grin pulling on his lips as he throws his head back, the rhythm of his hips never faltering. You’re squeezing his cock so tightly, there’s no way in hell you’re ever going to be asking him or yourself that question again.

He lets go of you, reaching behind your back to pull on your wrists, tugging them further to himself, which makes you fall back on the desk. “Fuck you,” he repeats, his words almost sounding like a moan now as he holds your wrists near your stomach, basically transfixing you. He moves one of his hands up to throw your leg over his shoulder again, another continuing holding your wrists down, as you both groan quietly at the change of the angle, the new one allowing for him to go so deep he’s touching parts of you you didn’t know existed.

“So, you wanted me to be a good teacher and a good dick all at the same time?” he muses, a smirk pulling on his lips again as he looks down onto your dishevelled form, your tits bouncing out of your tugged-down top, you skirt ridden up to your waist, your fucking face, so unbearably beautiful, flushed and your lips swollen from his kisses and from you biting on them so much. He can’t fucking get enough of how silent you are now after running your mouth at him for all these years. “Did you want me to be your boyfriend, too?” he chuckles, shaking his head, his expression faltering as he picks up the rhythm for a good minute, pounding into you so hard all the items on the desk are clattering, and you have to bite on your lips again not to scream from him practically tearing you apart, because you can’t cover your mouth anymore with your wrists held by him.

“Daddy never loved you, right?” He understands he’s probably taunting you too much, his words almost feeling cruel, but he’s too far gone at this point, he’s making a forceful effort to continue looking down at you to imprint the way you look right now into his memory to revisit later, even though his eyes are almost rolling back from just how good your cunt takes him. “That’s why you’ve been pining for my dick for fucking three years? Are you getting what you wanted?”

“Y-yes,” you whimper weakly. Yes to all that, actually, but he doesn’t need to know that. He feels too good, filling you up to the brim, you can almost feel him in your guts, he’s making your toes curl. And he’s finally not acting nice. Just like you wanted him to.

“Good,” he growls, letting go of you for a second before his hands find the undersides of your knees, bringing them close to your chest, changing the angle again as he starts hammering down into you, the room filled with the sound of your shared ragged breaths, the desk creaking under you and the sound of his pelvis slapping against yours. “Fu-uck, you’re taking me so good, none of your schoolwork was ever that good,” he’s lying through his teeth. Not about the sex — you’re taking it like a champ—but about your schoolwork. It was, indeed, that good.

He basically has no power left over what words leave his mouth, he’s completely drunk on you, the taste of your cunt and your mouth still lingering on his tongue. “Are you gonna come again?” he pants out, slowing down, feeling your walls clenching down on him, squeezing him tight.

“Y-yeah,” you mutter, fluttering your eyes open to look at him from under your eyelashes, but you can pretty much only make out his silhouette with how hazy your vision has become with just how good he’s fucking you. “I knew,” you repeat, your throat feeling tight again, your head falling back on the desk as you bring your now free hands to your mouth, covering it to muffle out the scream you know is there, brewing, destined to roll of your lips when he drives you to release again.

“You—“ he starts in disbelief, but he’s getting closer, too, there’s no point in arguing now. He just can’t fucking believe the nerve on you. What do you mean, you knew? Knew he could fuck you like you wanted to? Knew you would be walking out of here with a limp? Such a know-it-all, always thinking she’s two steps ahead everybody else.

He sighs shakily, a broken, needy sound as he brings his hand in between your legs, finding your clit again, his other hand still holding your knees pressed to your chest. He rubs at you in sync with the thrusts of his hips, his pace picking up, up, and up, until he finally lets out a low grunt, stilling, slipping out of you as he watches you bite on your hand, tears streaming down your cheeks as he feels your pussy convulsing under his fingers, another orgasm hitting you, and in a matter of seconds, after a few fast strokes, he comes, too, thick ropes of his seed landing all over your stomach and knees, and some of it lands on your chin.

For a few seconds, he just stands there, catching his breath, watching over you. He opens his desk drawer, pulls out a tissue pack, and wipes himself before doing the same for you. You're still lying there, face hidden in your hands, your outfit a mess. He's already caught you crying and knows you might feel awkward doing it in front of him, so he just makes sure you're clean for when you leave.

He tucks himself back into his trousers, fastens his belt, and walks to the other side of his office. You hear him rustling around while you try to get your breath back and keep your emotions in check. His soft footsteps approach the desk again, and you feel him gently patting your knee. You open your eyes to see him holding out a cup of water—a peace offering or an apology. But you know he doesn't owe you either. He just gave you everything you've wanted for the last three years. And he even brought you fucking water. Because he's disgustingly nice like that.

You nod in gratitude, sit up, and take the plastic cup from his hand, downing it in one gulp. It actually brings some life back to you. You breathe out shakily, fix your top, and tuck your tits back in before sliding off the desk. Your shoes land softly on the floor, your legs still trembling, your knees feeling like they'll give out any moment. You tug your skirt down and sheepishly meet his gaze, unsure where to go from here.

He steps closer and brings his hands up to your face to fix your hair. His eyebrows furrow in concentration again as he smooths it down, making sure you don't look disheveled when you walk out of here.

He sighs, letting his arms drop to his sides, and keeps looking at your face as if making sure you're not just looking okay but are okay too. “I didn’t mean that. The ‘fuck you’. And the ‘slut’ comment. Well, I kinda did,” he shrugs, averting his gaze with a humorless chuckle, “but I didn’t.”

You punch the air out of his lungs as you pounce on him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. It takes him a second to gather himself, but he hesitantly hugs you back, just letting his hands rest on your lower back as you nuzzle your nose into his chest.

You had to get it out of your system, but now that it's in, you feel like you’ll never get enough. He feels like a beacon, one he's always been for you. The guy you picked a rivalry with your first week of sophomore year just to push yourself harder, to strive for greatness. He wasn’t even aware there was a rivalry to begin with. He's an academic, though, they’re all fucked up in the head, he must understand a part of it, at least.

And he understands. Truly. He just hopes you won’t start crying again, because he doesn’t know how he'd handle that. He pulls away slightly to look you in the eyes, cupping your face in his hands, and plants a soft kiss on your forehead.

“You’re a smart girl,” he says, his voice low, the small, friendly smile on his lips sincere, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he looks down at you. “You’ll figure it out. I don’t doubt it.”

He had this whole speech prepared for the class about how adult life is going to treat them, the challenges they'll face, how scary it’ll be, but also insanely rewarding. It was long, sentimental, with a few jokes thrown in. Some girls cried, but it was all bullshit. What’s real is this. Him understanding your fears without you having to voice them. Him telling you you’ve got this.

“And until you do, you always know where to find me,” he nods to the side, obviously meaning his office, a lopsided smirk making him look a good decade younger. His gaze finds yours again, and he pulls you into another tight hug, one he initiates this time.

In his mind, he’s already thinking how long it would be appropriate to wait before he can invite you for a coffee.

[theinfernaldesiremachine]

I want to know more about the guy who threw three tons of type into the Thames, please! Thank you!!

So first, thank you for this ask. I love talking about this guy, and you gave me an excuse to fact-check all of the absurd things I’ve learned about him over the past year or so and, as a result, learn even more absurd things about him. But oh man, where to start. So those tags were about a guy named Thomas James Cobden-Sanderson (often written about as T. J. Cobden-Sanderson, TJCS here for efficiency). He was an absolutely fascinating dude – quit like three or four different career paths before actually becoming a lawyer and just fucking hating it. He was hanging out with his buddy William Morris (yes, THAT William Morris*) lamenting his lack of satisfying work when Morris’s wife Jane (yes THAT Jane Morris**) suggested he try his hand at bookbinding. (Side note (there are going to be so many side notes): TJCS is the one who coined the name “Arts and Crafts” for the decorative arts movement that Morris basically founded, and TJCS was hugely influential in that circle as well.) He started a bookbinding apprenticeship and just kind of blew everyone away. He was crazy good at it much faster than he should have been, and he founded the Doves Bindery (named after the nearby pub, not the bird) with capital from his wife.

(The biggest side note: TJCS was a hard core Wife Guy, and Annie Cobden-Sanderson was insanely cool in her own right. She was a famous suffragette, was arrested and imprisoned for demonstrating in the lobby of parliament, and was an evangelist for vegetarianism. This whole post could be about her, actually. TJCS thought she was so cool that he took her name – he was T. J. Sanderson, she was Annie Cobden, and when they married, they both took the name Cobden-Sanderson. She went to the U.S. in the early 20th century to teach the suffragettes there what she had learned protesting in England, so I feel like she is in part responsible for my right to vote. Love her.)

Okay, but back to TJCS. Our very talented, very egotistical, very tempestuous little dude was Not Satisfied binding whatever books came in the door because he had big feelings about what the Ideal Book should be. To that end, he teamed up with printer and engraver Emery Walker, William Morris’s former partner at the Kelmscott Press (yes, THAT Kelmscott Press***) to found the Doves Press so that he could create the most beautiful books by printing only the most beautiful words. TJCS was the “visionary and fanatic” (his words) and Walker was the technician. TJCS commissioned a new typeface to be used exclusively by the Doves Press. It was based on some of the most beautiful typography ever created – the capitals based on Nicholas Jensen’s 15th century roman that’s still considered one of the standards of perfection in type design (if you’ve ever used Centaur or read a book set in it, that’s kind of the contemporary version of Jensen’s roman). The Doves Press was unexpectedly successful and it along with Kelmscott Press laid the foundation for what would be the fine press movement of the 20th century. The Doves Bindery now only bound Doves Press books, and if you have a local library or museum that has examples in their collection, it’s well worth the trip to go look at these books.

(The opening of Genesis from The Doves Bible, widely regarded as one of the most perfect books ever printed, image from Jonkers Rare Books.)

Of course, “tempestuous” and “egotistical” are not a great recipe for long and healthy partnerships, even when coupled with “very talented,” and TJCS and Walker had a mega falling out. TJCS was a perfectionist the level of which it is hard to overstate. Walker was… not. He was a printer. You printed your pages, and that was that; sometimes there were going to be errors. Also, he liked to make money. The Doves Type was widely regarded as the most beautiful typeface in existence, and there were lots of folks willing to pay to use it in their own printing pursuits like advertising and other commercial work. I’m sure you can imagine how well this went over with TJCS. After what seemed like endless fighting, a mutual friend, Sydney Cockerell****, suggested a compromise: TJCS would get exclusive use of the Doves Type for the rest of his life, but Emery Walker would own it and could do whatever he wanted with it once TJCS died. Walker figured this was the best he was going to get and agreed. TJCS agreed at the time, but as he got older, he got even more tempestuous and obsessive, and this is where the river comes in. Dude grabbed all of the matrices and punches (the stuff you would need to make more of the Doves Type) and literally threw it into the Thames. Fine, now the only Doves Type that exists is what’s in active use by the Doves Press. That was not good enough for our good friend and Weird Little Guy TJCS. No, in addition to throwing the matrices and punches into the river, he ALSO threw every last piece of type in the workshop into the river. This is fucking hilarious because it’s not like a print shop just has a few copies of the alphabet laying around. A working press (even a small one) like the Doves Press had literally more than a ton of type in the workshop. TJCS was so petty and so determined that only HE would ever get to use this type that he made almost TWO HUNDRED trips to Hammersmith Bridge to dump type in the river.

And the story doesn’t even end there! And I’m typing this alone on my couch instead of trying to retell the abridged version over drinks with friends, so guess what? You get the rest of the story too! The Doves Type is still to this day considered one of the most beautiful typefaces ever created, and I get to introduce you to another single-minded, obsessive little guy who REALLY REALLY wanted to create the most accurate digital facsimile possible of the Doves Type. His name is Robert Green, and at first he was just looking at the texts printed by the Doves Press and trying to recreate it from the printed pages themselves. He did a pretty good job. In his quest, read everything he could about TJCS and the Doves Press, including TJCS’s diaries. I’m not sure anyone before Green really took literally TJCS’s declaration that the type had been “dedicated & consecrated” to the river but Green sure did. He even figured out that TJCS’s bridge of choice must have been Hammersmith. And then he started digging around. Almost a hundred years after TJCS donated it to the Thames, Green found a piece of the Doves Type in the mud under Hammersmith Bridge. With help from Port of London Authority divers, more than one hundred and fifty pieces of the Doves Type were recovered, and Green was able to revise his facsimile based on actual specimens.

The absolutely insane consequence of this is that YOU, dear friend, can buy your own license to the Doves Type and use it for whatever unhinged purpose you can dream up. Whether your interests align with TJCS and you also want to create the Ideal Book, or you feel like typesetting your favorite shitpost, one of the most beautiful typefaces ever cut is at your disposal.

Feels a little silly to put the footnotes under the cut given how long this got, but we're running solely on vibes now, so here we go.

*Founding member of the Arts and Crafts movement, iconic designer, you definitely know who William Morris is. Or at least you've seen his wallpaper.

**Similarly, textile artist, muse and model for the painters of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood and Arts and Crafts movement, you know who Jane Morris is.

***If you know Kelmscott press, it's likely because you know The Kelmscott Chaucer. It is widely considered one of the most beautiful books ever printed, and it's likely that you've seen images of its pages if your interests run bookish at all (and I kind of assume they do if you've managed to read this far).

****Okay, so I footnoted Sydney Cockerell mostly to talk about his younger brother, Douglas. You probably don't know who Douglas Cockerell was, but I think you should! The fine binding tradition in England is an incredibly vibrant community of artists, and many of them can trace their education directly to TJCS through his apprentice Douglas Cockerell. Cockerell quickly became a giant in the craft and trained a generation of bookbinders himself, notably Bernard Middleton, another deeply talented binder and teacher who taught many, including Dominic Riley, from whom I have been lucky enough to take classes.

[spadeprincesss]

in your au, how do each of the colors handle and cope with stress?

oh my goodness i love this question !! Ok so basically

Green:

Green has mastered the ability to feel numb to stress because he’s always stressed to some degree, being head of Zelda’s guard, future King Consort and Leader of the Decorated Heroes’ Party. There’s always something to do, someone to meet, something to sign, but Green coexists with it.

When it gets to be too much he will excuse both himself and Zelda and they’ll take a day, he’ll order her favorite foods, wander the gardens, and overall leave things in the other color’s hands, which none of them mind because the happy couple more than deserve days off every now and then.

Red:

When Red is stressed he tries to give himself space to stress-cry and do something else entirely. He’ll bake, take a walk, talk to the townspeople or one of the other colors, just to take his mind off what he was doing and come back when he’s feeling calmer and can actually get it done properly.

Blue:

Blue is someone that swears up and down doesn’t get stressed easily but he does, he’s a perfectionist which means that a single mistake can upset him more than is considered normal. There’s very little that can be done to de-stress Blue until the offending thing has been dealt with up to Blue’s standards, which in short terms means “no Blue doesn’t deal with stress”.

Red is usually the exception to this, he (figuratively) slaps some sense into Blue from time to time when he spirals, giving him the “you’re doing great honey” and a kiss to get Blue’s head back on his shoulders so he can finish what he started with a clear head.

Vio:

Vio and stress are best fucking friends, those two are never apart, as it tends to go when you’re a chronic overthinker. Vio hides that he’s stressed extremely well, because he feels he needs to be calm have all the answers at a moment’s notice. He’s good at thinking critically in a crisis, but that comes from shoving his feelings down and never dealing with them.

Shadow is great at telling when Vio is at his limit though, the way he barely stands still, paces, rambles under his breath everything he needs to get done, and how he won’t meet Shadow’s eyes because if he does he’ll crumble. Shadow has to pry him away from it all almost by force, and Vio resists until Shadow hits him with the “won’t you take care of yourself for me?”

Shadow:

Shadow is still learning how to human, he knows a lot of the good and the bad, and he sees in his friends what responsibility does to you. He takes the load off them all when he can, but as someone who’s come from a world where all is dark and dangerous he takes the most time off to enjoy the simple things in life. All this to say Shadow doesn’t stress easily because he purposefully doesn’t let it get to him.

Seeing the others in distress does stress him out a LOT though, and in those situations he gets protective and defensive, very snappy at anyone that can potentially make his loved ones feel worse. Vio and Zelda are great at calming him down in these states, and Shadow tries to focus on how they both smile at him in order to calm down.

[caubri]

✧･ﾟ:RAVENWOOD LEGACY CHALLENGE:･ﾟ✧

When I was a kid I mainly played 2 games; Wizard101 and The Sims 4. So let’s mix the two! 

Each generation is inspired by the seven schools from Wizard101. Unfortunately this will not be Base-Game Compatible but all pack requirements are listed next to their respective generation.

I'm not a writer so please excuse the quality of my writing <3

BASIC RULES:

Have fun! If there’s a rule that’s holding you back from having fun with your game, pretend it’s not there! (This is meant to expand your gameplay, NOT limit you.)

Match your sims wardrobe to the colours listed under each generation

Add any extra lore you’d like to. The more the merrier :D

The challenge is completed once every Generation 7 goal has been completed.

If you play this challenge, and you’d like me or others to see it, add #RavenwoodLegacy to your posts!

GENERATION 1: FIRE requires Lovestruck, Cats & Dogs

“If the mind is like a candle, the Heart is like the sun.” - Kingsisle

You’re quick to anger but you have a great passion for the loves of your life. They tend to walk a fine line so be careful, because those passionate flames could one day burn and consume you. Being completely obsessed with all things romance, you’re looking for the one that will match all the characters you’ve been writing about in your romance novels. To most people, your standards are impossible. Although you’ve dated many, you never end up settling down with anyone. On the plus side, your many dates make great writing inspiration.

Traits: Romantic, Hot-headed, Self-Assured

Aspiration: Romantic Explorer

Career: Writer: Author (Specializes in Romance Novels)

Rules:

Master Writer Career and complete Romantic Explorer Aspiration

Master Romance and Writing Skill

Adopt a Cat or Fox

Never keep a partner for longer than two sim weeks

All partners must be met through Cupid’s Corner

Next Generation Heir can only live with you, not the other parent

Associated Colours: Red, Orange, Yellow

Name Ideas (From W101): Dalia, Ashley, Bernie

GENERATION 2: ICE requires Seasons, City Living, Get Together, Nifty Knitting, Spa Day

“...with Persistence, Victory is assured.” - Kingsisle

“Slow and steady wins the race.” they say. Or at least you do. You grew up in a semi-broken household. One of your parents drove the other away shortly after you were born but that didn’t mean you had issues knowing what real love was. You didn’t realise until you were older that your parent’s standards weren’t actually that crazy. Your highschool sweetheart made you discover that whatever that was written in your parent’s romance novels can actually exist in real life. Even though you have it all, you can always be better. Whether it’s painting, skating, or knitting, you can never be less than great. 

Traits: Perfectionist, High Maintenance, Loyal

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim

Career: Painter: Patron of the Arts

Rules:

Master Painter Career and Complete Renaissance Sim Aspiration

Master Painting and Fitness Skills

Have a hobby of Skating

Complete Snow Globe Collection

Marry your high school sweetheart (only remarry if your spouse dies)

Be the leader of a club and attend meetings weekly (ex. Book Club)

Take up Knitting as an elder

Associated Colours: Blue, White, Dark Purple

Name Ideas (From W101): Lydia, Kelvin

GENERATION 3: STORM requires Get To Work, Crystal Creations, Get Together

“That which can be imagined, can be achieved.” - Kingsisle

Growing up around an artist, you got to embrace your creative side at a young age. As an adult, you used your creative prowess to carry you through your career as a scientist. “Eureka!” To you, your career is like catching lightning in a bottle but to others… you may be a tad bit insane. Whenever you’re not in the lab, you express that spark with your crystal collecting. (You may have stolen a few from some co-workers… oops) And just between us… You dance in your bedroom when no one is watching. 

Traits: Creative, Ambitious, Dance Machine

Aspiration: Crystal Crafter

Career: Scientist

Rules:

Master Scientist Career and Crystal Crafter Aspiration

Master Logic and Gemology Skill

Have a hobby of Dancing

Complete Crystals and Metals Collection

Have multiple children (a non-heir child must have a daughter)

Associated Colours: Purple, Yellow, Dark Green

Name Ideas (From W101): Halston, Torrence

GENERATION 4: MYTH requires Discover University, Realm of Magic, Kids Room Stuff

“To control the Future, one must look to the Past.” - Kingsisle

Your imagination is everything. Nothing means more to you than the power of your mind. Many people described your parents as crazy and the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. You value your relationships with animals and robots over other sims. Or at least you thought you did until you met your niece.  After that you realized maybe having a family wouldn’t be so bad. As you were researching spellcasters in the Magic Realm of Glimmerbrook, you met someone who caught your eye. As a young adult you built yourself a robot without realizing that said robot would become your best(robot)man at your wedding.

Traits: Erratic, Genius, Jealous

Aspiration: Spellcraft and Sorcery

Career: Engineer: Mechanical Engineer

Rules:

Master Engineer Career and Spellcraft and Sorcery Aspiration

Master Robotics Skill

As a child, complete the Voidcritter Collection

(optional) Get a degree in Physics (must live in a dorm)

Marry a spellcaster, and become a spellcaster

Build and befriend Servo

Be your niece’s godparent

Associated Colours: Yellow, Blue, Black

Name Ideas (From W101): Cyrus, Ivan

GENERATION 5: LIFE requires Eco Lifestyle, Cottage Living

“As we have been Created, so must we Create.” - Kingsisle

Your entire life has been about growth. You grew your love for music since you were a kid, and as an adult you grew your plants and watched your animals grow right in your backyard. Your music breathes life and spirit into your green-filled home. As a child you were just as nurtured by your parents as your farm is by you. You wish to do the same for your children.

Traits: Good, Music Lover, Green Fiend

Aspiration: Country Caretaker

Career: Gardener: Botanist (optional)

Rules:

Master Gardener Career (optional) and Country Caretaker Aspiration

Master Gardening and a music skill of your choice

Have the next gen-heir be born in the last half of the Adult Life Stage

Attend the Finchwick Fair occasionally

Always have a Cow or Cowplant on your lot

Associated Colours: Green, Brown, Gold

Name Ideas (From W101): Linda, Blossom, Sylvia

GENERATION 6: DEATH requires Vampires, Cats and Dogs, Get Famous, Any pack including apartments

“Timor mortis conturbat me.” (The Fear of Death Confounds Me) - Kingsisle

Your earliest memory was listening to your parents singing and playing their favourite instrument. They passed away when you were decently young. As soon as they passed you moved out on your own into an apartment, adopted a cat and tried to get your life on track. You did some odd-jobs here and there to make ends meet as you could only handle having a part-time job. You visited your Parents’ graves in Forgotten Hollow and discovered the existence of vampires. This discovery seemed to give you a purpose in life, a way to potentially cheat death unlike your parents. 

Traits: Loner, Cat Lover, Self-Absorbed

Aspiration: Master Vampire

Career: Any Part-Time Job

Rules:

Master A Part-Time Career and Master Vampire Aspiration

Master Pipe Organ and Vampire Lore Skill

Start a part-time job as a teenager and keep it until you retire

Keep your cat alive as long as possible using Healthy Treats

Get your spouse to eat Ambrosia at least once (if they’re not a vampire)

Live in an apartment for most of your life

Associated Colours: Black, Red, White

Name Ideas (From W101): Malistaire, Malorn, Mortis, Dworgyn

GENERATION 7: BALANCE requires Discover University, Cats and Dogs, Spa Day, Strangerville, For Rent

“Eye of Newt, and Toe of Frog, Wool of Bat, Tongue of Dog.” - Kingsisle

You believe that every part of you was once a part of the generations before you. You’re like a perfect blend of them all. It’s as if you’ve stolen little bits of everyone and turned it into one unique being. The good parts and the bad. You’re just as smart as your ancestors but also just as crazy. You do good deeds during the day by bringing justice to criminals, while committing your own crimes at night… But it balances out, right?

Traits: Generous, Paranoid, Kleptomaniac

Aspiration: Inner Peace

Career: Law: Judge

Rules:

Master Law Career and Inner Peace Aspiration

(optional) Get a degree in History

Master Wellness and Research and Debate Skill

Have a Dog

Must have a Son and Daughter (keep going till you have it)

Associated Colours: Brown, Red, Orange

Name Ideas (From W101): Arthur, Niles, Alhazred

created by @caubri

If you run into any issues involving the writing of this challenge, let me know so i can fix it, as I have not gotten a chance to fully play test this yet.

[cameronsactivities]

an f. scott fitzgerald companion

i found this book at a thrift shop and here are some of our beloved scotty's worst moments

"In their correspondence, Fitzgerald saved every letter Ginerva wrote him. He later had them typed up and bound with ribbon. Not a single one of Scott's letters to her survived. She threw all of them away."

From Ernest Hemingway's memoir:

"I had watched him drink two good solid whiskies and nothing happened"

"I had never heard, then, of a grown man missing a train; but on this trip I was to learn many new things."

"While I had been angry I had demoted him from Scott to Fitzgerald."

fitzgerald tries to mansplain pneumonia to hemingway

"Scott then asked me if I were afraid to die and I said more at sometimes than at others."

the entire saga of fitzgerald convincing himself he has pneumonia and hemingway being not quite sure how to react, which goes as follows: "You haven't any temperature. How the hell are you going to have congestion of the lungs without a temperature?" [Hemingway] "Don't swear at me," Scott said. "How do you know I haven't a temperature?" "Your pulse is normal and you haven't any fever to the touch." "To the touch," Scott said bitterly. "If you're a real friend, get me a thermometer." "I'm in pajamas."

More:

An entire section called "That Sad Young Man"

"he spent his whole freshman year at Princeton writing the Triangle Show, which left him no time for algebra, trigonometry, coordinate geometry, and hygiene."

"'F. Scott Fitzgerald,' I said. 'I thought he was dead.'"

he's 5'6 (this might have been exaggerated though)

[at the 20th century fox office] "Fitzgerald made himself comfortable by taking off his shoes"

closing remarks:

i think fitzgerald gets a bad rep for generally being an asshole, which is true, but i also feel really bad for this guy. after the 1920s and his success with this side of paradise and the great gatsby, the media started saying he was "wasting his talent" and basically calling him a one hit wonder. a lot of this was because of the great depression starting in 1929 which made his books unrelatable, like people started saying that the great gatsby was promoting that kind of excessive lifestyle. he fell out of favor with the public for the rest of his life, hence the "i thought he was dead" quote. people just forgot about him. this obviously caused a lot of financial struggle for the fitzgeralds and he later got really paranoid and perfectionist about his writing.

there's this part in the book that stands out to me, where he goes to a play adaptation of one of his short stories and absolutely nobody is there at the theater, which literally has benches instead of actual seats. this man continually got slandered by the media and faced this type of rejection from the public but still worked on his last novel (the last tycoon) up until the literal date of his death. and he was still hopeful that the novel would be his saving grace and planned to write more novels. even after his heart attack he continued to write despite bedridden. idk i just think that's respectable.

i know he was a jerk in MANY other ways but i will have to mention that he genuinely was trying to be better for zelda and his daughter, scottie. he lived frugally because he was paying for zelda's treatment/care and for scottie's boarding school. he was still in a lot of debt but he wasn't just perpetually wasted. speaking of which, he didn't drink for like the last year of his life and tried multiple times in his life to quit alcohol.

anyway this by no means excuses any of the other things he's done, but i think dying thinking that all your entire life was lived in vain is pretty bad. i still laugh at him because it's funny though.

[lavenderandlaurel]

like I mentioned at the beginning of the year, one of my overarching goals for 2024 is becoming less perfectionist. I've not had great results on this issue from either talk or cognitive-behavioral therapy in the past, so I knew this would be a forge-your-own-path kind of goal, but I wasn't sure what that might look like. especially since all the books I skimmed on authenticity / overcoming perfectionism / self-acceptance triggered aggression responses.* (excuse me. where is the historical-social-cultural context!!)

so instead, I have decided on some basic principles for the year:

share in-progress work earlier and more often

seek out failure (or, realize that criticism of The Thing is not criticism of me)

give mindfulness + meditation techniques another shot, despite my overwhelming skepticism of the self-help genre

try to be curious (or at least pragmatic) rather than judgmental when I'm procrastinating

turn in something on the dates I promised.** see also principle 1; it is better to turn in incomplete work early than polished work late

practice being flexible - including with these principles

secret seventh thing***

*one of the fundamental disconnects between me and most of these books is that I don't really have issues with self-worth. my perfectionism comes from anxiety (will I be fired or ridiculed or lose some ability to make decisions for myself) and I find it frustrating that a lot of mental health professionals don't take my concerns seriously (it's not like those concerns haven't happened to me before!)

**I set most of my own deadlines at my current job, so I have some leeway here that I haven't always had

***not really secret I've just been thinking about this topic from a jewish perspective, which perhaps warrants its own post

[missgeniality]

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna​​ is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this!   This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy! 

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods. 

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning. 

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold. 

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity. 

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully. 

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.” 

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?” 

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation. 

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?” 

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious. 

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well. 

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight? 

BTS is on your flight? 

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography. 

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger. 

BTS who? 

Biggest boyband who? 

You only listen to Frank Sinatra. 

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally. 

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours. 

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help. 

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved. 

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could. 

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back. 

Aw, you are in trouble. 

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face. 

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true. 

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth. 

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you. 

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you. 

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to. 

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all. 

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile. 

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously. 

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.  

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean. 

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.” 

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..” 

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in. 

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb. 

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.” 

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.  

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told. 

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep. 

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began. 

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you. 

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you. 

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you. 

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family. 

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen. 

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request. 

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement. 

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.” 

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck. 

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart. 

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him. 

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon. 

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.” 

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence. 

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car. 

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you. 

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that. 

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of. 

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far. 

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode. 

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma. 

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this. 

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong. 

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do. 

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall. 

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!" 

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!” 

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor. 

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so. 

But you’re not anyone else. 

He isn’t just anyone.  

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two. 

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours. 

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century. 

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind. 

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours. 

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation. 

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end. 

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark. 

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.” 

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible. 

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken. 

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him. 

The elevator door opens, and people walk out. 

But that’s not where your attention is. 

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm. 

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad. 

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present. 

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.” 

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” 

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile. 

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too. 

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space. 

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!” 

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed. 

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again. 

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.” 

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”. 

The punctuation was not vocalized. 

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself. 

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there? 

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna. 

So far, no sign of him. 

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far. 

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode. 

And then you hear it. 

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but. 

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck. 

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight. 

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight. 

 “Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement. 

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is. 

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart. 

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.” 

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first. 

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own. 

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes.  “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.” 

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter. 

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?” 

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight. 

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger. 

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware. 

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer. 

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue. 

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch. 

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates. 

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?” 

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air. 

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative. 

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?” 

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress. 

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured. 

“On your knees.” he commands.  

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.” 

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on. 

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm. 

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head. 

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise. 

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly. 

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him. 

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him. 

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.” 

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over. 

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench. 

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening. 

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod. 

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum. 

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you. 

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him. 

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss. 

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair. 

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt. 

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room. 

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom. 

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you. 

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention. 

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought. 

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret. 

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch. 

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth. 

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way. 

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face. 

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs. 

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem. 

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-” 

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him. 

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason. 

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard. 

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him. 

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making. 

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls. 

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat. 

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it. 

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response. 

“Go on baby, ride me.” 

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better. 

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!” 

“That’s fucking right, only me.” 

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away. 

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve. 

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full. 

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high. 

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face. 

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!” 

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.” 

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way. 

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole. 

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs. 

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core. 

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours. 

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.” 

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon. 

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart. 

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.” 

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness. 

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy. 

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance. 

He finds none. 

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go. 

You inch closer. 

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his. 

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win. 

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words. 

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst. 

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows.  You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him. 

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far. 

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up. 

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement. 

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

[sgt-paul]

should have posted this on the anniversary of the rooftop concert but posting it on the anniversary of the ed sullivan show the first live wings gig is pretty fitting as well, anyway i just have the urge to react to the sort of "paul is a nervous, anxious wreck and he doesn't want to go on the roof he is scared and he is pain, and he is fishing for excuses" trope i've seen spiral on here (thanks to PJ's ability to come up with the most tone deaf "insights") as i'm just.. i don't get what people are looking at lol.

like, how do we get from paul talking about wanting to perform and play live for the whole doc really to the "paul is waiting for someone to boycott the gig because he is afraid to play live" conclusion. we know he wants to perform and play live, he wants an audience etc, because not only is he consistent about this during get back (at the "meeting" before the concert when there's still some uncertainty around the whole thing, according to MLH he is the one telling the others that they should do it), he said it himself (1) prior to get back [the idea of singing live is much more appealing to us now] (2) he continues saying this after they have finished get back (we know touring was basically the only suggestion he's made to the band around the time of/at the divorce meeting too) and (3) 3 years later, just months after he's formed wings the first thing he does is bringing his original idea to life with their university tour. + (4) he's absolutely thriving when he is playing on the roof...

yeah paul shows that he is frustrated and nervous about the direction the project is heading into, but he is literally right, he is not "moaning about nothing", he is not in a "pointless anxiety spiral", he's not bringing up "excuses" because he has "stage fright". (i can get behind the idea that he would be nervy about playing live again because (1) duh, and (2) in regards to that he very openly and sensibly says that he thinks they've/he's "got a bit shy". but uhm, that's quite different from what people are trying project him). the sense you get from him is that for him, playing a few numbers on the roof, and a couple others in the basement in a rush, and then somehow stringing them together into an album is not enough, it's not it ["but for who is tommorow the day we've got to do it?, not for me"]. hence why john is saying to him that he's aware that doing only ~7 tracks instead of 14 is disappointing and he's not talking to paul about the "stress" of having audience, or doing the concert or playing live, whatever. he's quite literally said, that he wants to go out with a bang. he wants a big, proper end to the story, he wants something different and fresh, something good they can be proud of and satisfied with ["i just like making the best out of an idea"] and then he wants to close the project and move on. he's a perfectionist, and he isn't lazy to put in the work to achieve what he perceives to be "enough". (of course ringo's and glyn's upcoming commitments are considerable obstacles when it comes to the possibility of extending the length of the project, but to me it seems his idea was to spend one more week working on the songs/setlist and preparing a 12-14 song concert in a proper location - days before the roof he is still talking about doing it somewhere like the saville theatre). he clearly cares about the band's output, he is fully invested in creating something great - just like he was when it was about pepper or the mmt - and he doesn't want some half-assed end* to the project they have been working on for about a month, the project that could also easily turn out to be their last(!). *the half-assed end being the better than nothing rooftop gig they resort to, seasoned with the basement tracks. so he's trying to get the most out of it, he's trying to give the biggest ending to this project that he can think of. right until the last moment he's trying to get more out of it than what they have eventually ended up with, because he thinks the roof isn't enough and it's not the ending that he wants. but once it becomes obvious that the roof&basement combo will have to be the finale, he is determined to make it as good as possible.

also you can't say that his frustration, worry and dissatisfaction weren't justified lmao, because when you look at the not particularly ideal treatment let it be got in the end (enter spector and klein), or just them being not that satisfied with what they had ended up with (days before the roof they are already talking about starting the recording of a new LP and just like that within a few weeks they are already working on abbey road) and the end result being subpar to the white album or abbey road... yeah. you can see what his problem was at the time. it could have been a step forward, as the project had the potential.

(and like, he could not have known that 50 years later people would look back on the rooftop concert and hail it as this iconic farewell gig lol, and that the performance of those 5 songs we got from the roof would be considered so legendary etc)

[wordsnstuff]

Guide to Drafting

Patreon || Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Work In Progress

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Planning v. Discovery

The first thing you must decide when you embark on the journey of drafting a story is how you’re going to get it done. Typically, there are two groups you can fit into, though most writers are somewhere in between. There are writers who plan meticulously before they begin writing to create a very clean first draft, or there are discovery writers (otherwise known as “pantsers”) who find more success in choosing a premise and then using a zero draft to explore the idea before gluing down any details. You are most likely someone who falls between those two methods. Some initial planning to feel familiar with your idea before you do some of the planning through the writing itself. Having some semblance of a method will help you narrow down your own process, which is immensely important if you want to get any substantial project near completion.

Consistency

Drafting is a difficult process because it’s either the revisitation of ideas you’ve already had, or the generations of ideas in quick succession. If you want to have a draft in a reasonable amount of time, you must develop a consistency in your writing. I won’t say that it must be a strict routine because time management can be a luxury, but you must make the consistent effort to write, and keep it in the forefront of your mind. Even if you don’t write every day, it should be something you try to make time for every day.

Know What You’re Trying to Accomplish

To get a draft done, you need to set expectations for yourself and they must be realistic. That doesn’t mean they have to be easy, or an amount of work you’ve been able to accomplish in the past. Considering how much time you dedicate to writing and your skillset, it should be a goal within reality. In addition, you must accept that you cannot create a masterpiece in one draft. For each version of your story that you write, you must have a focused goal, such as maintaining consistent characterization, making the plot concise and engaging, or making the prose more fluid and efficient. If you have a specific and attainable goal that you can accomplish in a reasonable amount of time with a fair amount of precision, each draft will be better than the last.  

Designate Work to Phases

As mentioned in the last section, it maximizes your time and effort to have specific and attainable goals for each draft. This doesn’t mean that you rewrite the draft each time (though that is very common amongst writers), but that you designate tasks to draft versions. I find it very helpful in clearing my mind and soothing my perfectionist anxiety to make a “schedule”, outlining what I’ll accomplish in each version following the zero draft. For example, my draft schedules usually end up something like this:

Zero Draft: Main plot line, basic characterization, key world building

First Draft: Finalize Timeline, research for world building, structure

Second Draft: (Rewrite) Plot Development Fine Tuning

Subplot development

Foreshadowing

Build up to climaxes

Tone & Pace

Third Draft: (Intermittent Rewrites) Character Development Fine Tuning

Backstory

Subtextual Development

Making sure motivations are clear

Relationships between characters

Reinforcing character arcs

Checking dialogue

Fourth Draft: (Give to Beta Readers) World Building & Prose

Descriptions & Flow

Finalize settings

Checking grammar & punctuation

Reader Immersion

Fifth Draft: Incorporate Beta Reader Feedback

Write for Yourself First

In what some call the “zero-draft”, there are no rules. This draft is purely for your eyes. It’s you telling yourself the story for the first time. So, you don’t have to write in chronological order, or know the right word you’re looking for, or take a break every time you run into a problem. The purpose of the zero draft is to get a rough idea of as much of the story as you can and avoid getting snagged on minor details. This part is important. A lot of writers like to outline meticulously before they begin drafting and if that works for you, that’s great, but the majority of writers who attempt that get stuck in the planning phase, or burnt out on their story before a word of it exists. The easiest way to avoid those two situations is to do a zero draft, which can be as long or short as you want if it provides a skeleton for you to add meat to later.

Common Struggles

~ How do you estimate the number of words/chapters?... That depends on the genre, mostly. However, that’s usually something you decide in the second draft and beyond, and it can vary because of factors you haven’t got locked down until the plot and character arcs are firm or final. This is also something you’ll probably do a lot of tinkering with, and receive feedback on, especially from beta-readers, who can advise you on where natural breaks could occur from their perspective.

~ Why, after planning everything out, do I always struggle to write the draft?... 99% of the time, it’s because you’ve either burned yourself out, or accumulated too much pressure. When you put that much effort and time into a story, you can either slip into a headspace where you feel little excitement about it because you’ve already done all of the problem solving and had all of the revelations. It’s usually beneficial at this stage to take a step back (even if you’re not burnt out) and give your story some space, so that once you come back to it, you’re enthusiastic enough to fully realize your vision. If instead you’re struggling to write because you feel a lot of pressure to do justice for a story you’ve put so much love into already, take a step back, remember that the first draft is just for you, and work on letting go of the idea that the zero draft is meant to serve any purpose beside simply existing. 

~ How do I come up with the necessary scenes to move the story forward between major plot points?... Most writing problems can be solved by asking yourself the right questions. When you’re trying to figure out what your reader needs to see next in order to effectively set up the next major event, ask yourself “What would happen between event A and event B that would add context or make event B more impactful?”. Treat it like a real situation and try to map out all of the tiny, notable moments that would take place between the major plot points, and then assess those moments on the basis of how impactful they would be to the coming scenes, and whether they can add context, set the tone, or aide in the rising action.

~ How do I balance sticking to the draft and following my own creative instinct in the moment?... This is a judgement call. Sometimes you’ll realize that maybe you should have just stuck to the outline, but remember that you can always go back, rewrite, test things out, etc. Always save every version of every scene, just in case, and go wild. Don’t be afraid to take detours just to explore. The writing process is anything but linear. 

~ How do I maintain momentum in my writing progress when I constantly have distractions or other responsibilities that take priority?... Work at it. There’s no magic trick or piece of advice I could say that gets rid of your personal responsibilities. Write when you can, don’t make excuses on top of the reasons you have no control over, and remember that you create your own deadlines and expectations. Be kind to yourself, do what you can, and don’t spend potential writing time punishing yourself because there isn’t as much as you’d like. 

~ How should I designate space (words/pages) to specific scenes/description/conversations, etc?... Trust your instinct and remember you can always cut/add later. In the earlier drafts, I’d advise you try to create as much material as possible to work with, and in the later drafts, be ruthless when determining what is necessary and adds value, and what doesn’t.

~ How do I finish a draft if I regularly lose motivation or interest in my projects?... Accept the fact that motivation is fickle, and that no writer in history has ever maintained “inspiration” for any project from the beginning to the end. There are going to be days where you’re like “ugh this is not what I want to do right now”, probably more than there are days where you’re stoked to work on your project, but that’s reality. If your goal is to finish a draft, you must recognize that writing is work, and nobody wants to work all the time. Try to supplement the lack of motivation by setting a positive and enjoyable routine so that, even when you’re not particularly motivated, you still know that your writing time will be peaceful and comfortable. 

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Masterlist | WIP Blog

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[hey-hamlet]

SVSSS AU Idea: What if they were also Australian

This is. An incredibly silly au. The concept is basically - what if the transmigrators where chinese-australian and, rather than dying, transmigrated into PIDW via a very dodgy course they both took. Read on for more stupidity. 

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Stupid svsss au - the transmigrators are also australian

Shen Yuan is the 3rd son of some rich real-estate tycoons and was moved to some of their property in Australia bc less pollution is better for his lungs - also to give his family a great excuse to holiday internationally.

  Shang Qinghua went to an Australian University and just.didnt leave. He never really knew if he was here legally or not

HIS VISA IS ACTUALLY EXPIRED BUT HE MANAGED TO ESCAPE THE LAW BECAUSE HES JUST THAT UNNOTICED

Shen Yuan did wildlife science!!! Bc Australian wildlife is as close to fantasy monsters as you can get. Shang Qinghua's degree was definitely something like Commerce.

Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua actually had a group project together but they didn't remember each other - my zoo husbandry subject did a group project with architecture students, so it could happen!

"oh yeah a (insert ridiculous creature here)? Similar to a red belly black snake"

They can use English to confuse people but you know that after a bit people would figure it out so they Australian English it up

Qing Jing is covered in pitfall traps so Shen Yuan can study the wildlife.

Shang Qinghua has 100% forgotten hes not working with standard western modern capitalism at some points and everyone is just so horrified by the things he’s muttering they just. do not inform him hes wrong.

“Whats scarier - facing down 100 demons or the concept of living in that economic system Shang-shishu sometimes rambles about” “Oh, the economy, every day.”

Shang Qinghua drops a "oh, fuck you cunt" and Shen Yuan is like "YOURE NOT EVEN CHINESE???"

Oh consider, for extra comedy, Shen Yuan's spoken mandarin is out of practice and Shang Qinghua still mixes them up

Of course, if we're using Aus English we can't go too ham with the lexicon because then it's just out of place

Reason they transmigrated wasn't BC they died but BC they signed up to a sketchy 5th course that semester. System threatens to eject them and they both had a project worth 70% due which neither had started. Course code is PIDW0666 - SQH thought ‘heh, that has the same acronym as my novel.” and then never thought about it again.

Shang Qinghua needs to pass BC Visa issues, Shen Yuan just has a perfectionist streak and refuses to submit less than the best and losing time while in another world meaning he'll have to rush and submit a rough draft and the shame would actually kill him - better to not go back at all, rather than go back and fail the course

The 5th course was vague as and only had one assignment worth 100% of the mark. A Literature Review.

Ok but also, Shen Yuan holding lil animal handling courses - and he's just got a swarm of these little bitey mammal bastards and is holding them like burgers. And they all look Furious but they can't get him.

He's gotta wrestle an off brand croc tho

Shen Yuan forgetting he has a sword and just sitting on the motherfucker - Actually thats it. That's the research he goes out with LQG for sometimes

LQG wrestles the animal while he makes notes. He was originally going alone until Yue Qingyuan and LQG found out and then they both had minor nervous breakdowns and decided Shen Yuan could never be allowed to do that alone.

Beast Peak goes to him for advice

Shen Yuan teaching his kids the different classes of animals and having a minor crisis as he tries to work out if that's a thing here or not.

Shen Yuan: A bat is actually a mammal, not a bird!

Random Child: What’s a mammal?

SY, to system: please tell me this child is just an idiot and that they have invented the concept of mammals please god

  So, there was an Incident at my sister campus - a slice of cake got stolen from the law library fridge and all the law students were furious and started insisting that only law student be allowed it. What I’m saying is that Shang Qinghua 100% stole the cake from the law library fridge

"IM SORRY, it had been there for like 2 weeks! I didn't think anyone was coming for it!"

"WHY DID YOU EAT 2 WEEK OLD CAKE??"

"it was the week they banned us from the local Macca's!!"

"oh yeah. Fair enough ."

[dimpledlavendeer]

❥︎ Enhypen's hyung line as room/homemates

Warnings: none! May contain typos🙈

Heeseung

He would be shy at first but will get crazy the more you know him

He would be so shy to interact first

He would try to avoid having conversations with you bc he would be afraid of getting weird due to his shy personality

He would get comfortable around you the more time passes and will like the fact that you always try to speak with him

So he would try to talk with you too, trying to start up conversations

Once he's done being shy he would ask questions abt you to get to know you more

He would be very interested in you and the things you like, so he would observe a lot

I think he's really skilled at reading people's emotions so if you had a bad day he would notice the second you get in the door

He would make a coffee or tea for you, silently sit on the couch next to you and ask if you want to talk

He is such a great listener so you could tell him what was bothering you or just talk with him for hours, thus you both have a lot of nights when you just stay up until the morning talking abt all kinds of stuff

He would make sure that you guys would always have snacks to eat for the times you stay up talking until morning, bc both of you LOVE eating

Omg I need to say this once you get closer and the awkwardness goes away expect A LOT OF CUDDLES

Like he would just hug you when you feel down, when he feels down, when he's happy, when he's tired etc etc. He would even ask for you to hug him

He would joke around a lot, teasing you abt your appearance when you ask him how you look before going out but never say anything rude that can hurt your feelings

I don't think he's that neat tbh lmao so his room tends to get messy a lot and he would often use his aegyo to get you to help him clean things up

He would be VERY shy abt Showering when you're home and since he sleeps late you often hear him shower when you wake up in the middle of the night

He's clumsy like really really clumsy

He's the most likely to walk in to you getting undressed or getting off shower

Most likely to fall in love with his roommate btw

He would BLUSH a lot even tho he himself tries to joke or flirt around

If you end up falling for him too and if he notices expect a lot of cute kdrama like scenes where you two just giggle around

Jay

He would be the ideal roommate

He seems very neat, so your house would look heavenly bc he would never let anything look messy or ugly

His awesome fashion taste probably also goes for home decorating

I don't think he would be shy like Heeseung

He would be really really talkative, would try to learn your interests

He would offer doing thing together abt your shared interests, basically he would try to be more intimate with you

Idk why but he gives me big brother vibes

He would help you and look after you all the time

He would cook instead of you even if it was your turn to deal with housework and stuff

He would give perfect relationship advices

Also he would be the shoulder you cry on, when you didn't listen to him and got heart broken

He is the type of friend that never gives up until he sees the corner of your lips curl into a smile

He would get close with your friend really quick tbh

He would teach you how to play his favorite video games so that you can play with him

OMG and he would definitely help you get ready when you have to dress up for somewhere

Going to shopping with Jay would be a routine for you

Also I think he would buy you guys cute friendship bracelets to celebrate your friendship anniversary

I don't think he would fall for his roommate

He would be like the best friend/ brother type of roommate

You would never get bored with Jay tbh

You would be bratty around him to tease and he would lowkey enjoy how you joke around with him

He would take care of you like your parents so you would probably never get sick

Movie nights with Jay when you had a bad day, under a warm blanket 😔💔

Jake

He is the least shyest tbh

He would treat you so warmly since the moment you meet

Since he is such a bright person he would most of the times make your mornings better

He would wake you up every morning with a smile on his face

Even tho not as much as Jay he still gives me a neat person vibes, at least I don't think he would be as messy as hee if that makes sense

He would help you with housework all the time

Cleaning with him would be so fun

He would just put on some music while you wipe the floor and he washed the dishes

And you guys end up dancing together rather than actually getting things done

He would help you with you school work

Gives the best speech whenever you need motivation

He will boost your ego up whenever you lost confidence in yourself

He also is a great listener and I think he is the best at giving any kind of advices abt anything so he would probably be the first person that you talk with abt things that confuses you

Jake really has such a charming aura I think he would probably be able to make anyone fall him lmao

So you would probably have a crush om him after some time

Not as much as hee but I see him also falling for his roommate

If he would also develop feelings for you he wouldn't be shy to show it

He would buy you flowers ever day of the week

He would often try to make excuses to try sleeping while cuddling you

He would hold you under his embrace all night, making sure you don't feel alone when you have a bad day

He's the general sweetheart and tbh impossible not to fall for

Sunghoon

He would be even shyer than hee

He would definitely avoid trying to talk with you and all

Wouldn't be able to speak looking itno your eyes at first

He would be so tense around you but in time he would really really get comfortable he would turn into Jake lmao

He just needs time to get used to it but once he does get comfy he would be the most intimate person you would see

He would start conversations abt random random things

He would ALWAYS tease you for mostly being shorter than him

He would act like a brat most of the time but only bc he really cares abt you

He is also very neat so he wouldn't let anything go messy but instead of helping you with your own stuff he would expect you to clean them yourself

So you guys may have argue abt his obsession over keeping things neat but it would never go to the point where it breaks your heart

You guys would have decent schedules on who will wash the dishes that day or who cooks etc.

He would always try his best to be extra kind with you especially if you're having mood swings

He seems like a perfectionist to me that's why he may get frustrated when things go wrong

And when that happens he really loves it when you listen to him

He would love how you and him having long conversation where he just can rant abt whatever it is that's making him uncomfortable while you silently listen to him

Idk why but I think he would enjoy night walks so it may become a routine for you both to go out at midnight, walking around in the neighborhood

And I think he would love stargazing

He would take you to a park near the place you guys stay when you don't feel very well and will let you lay on his lap

Tbh I'm not really sure if he is likely to fall for his roommate but there would definitively be situations where you guys act like a couple even to it isn't intentional

[okskz]

Mistake.

Mia + Stray Kids

during their kingdom performance, mia ends up making one mistake towards the end which causes her to be upset.

hope you guys enjoy! please feel free to leave some feedback because it is always appreciated!

[9th Member of Stray Kids]

Mia sat patiently in the chair, getting her makeup done. She was getting a few more touches done on her face, the makeup artist adding some shimmer on the side of her face and neck. As well as adding some sparkle in her hair. Mia felt like she was shining, and them wearing all white made the look even better.

“You look like a disco ball.”

Mia glared at Changbin through the mirror. “Be nice to me.”

“Eh, not fun.”

The girl shook her head, letting out a small snort before she got told that they were done with her makeup. She quickly jumped out of her seat, but had slipped back on the chair. “Woah. These shoes are kinda slippery.” She looked down at the white combat boots she had on and began sliding them on the floor. They were indeed slippery, but Mia paid no mind to it.

She looked at herself one more time in the mirror, her outfit looked great, and her hair had faded out from the pink she had so now she had some blond streaks at the bottom, which she had really liked. And it was pulled back on top, braided. Mia wasn’t a big fan of having her hair in her face because it got in the way of performing sometimes. So she was glad the hairstylist decided to pull it back for her.

“How do I look?” She twirled around when approaching the boys, seeing they were done getting ready.

“Ugly, hideous, I hate you, none of the above.” Minho joked. “Just kidding, you look great. Stunning even, the most beautiful girl in the world, so pretty, Mia.”

Mia rolled her eyes. “Thanks, you’re so kind.” She said, with a hand on her hip.

“Starting making your way to the stage.” Their manager had said to them, making everyone get up from their seats.

Mia began feeling a little jumpy, standing next to the stage. Out of all the performances she’s ever done, the Kingdom performances made her feel more pressure. Mainly because so much was added to them, from props, to having backup dancers, and making sure everything turns out good. Especially since this was basically a competition, not just performing for fun. Although she did hav me fun performing, Mia knew she had to be extra cautious on not making any mistakes. Which has always been not hard to do for her.

“Nervous?” Changbin questioned her.

“A little.” She whispered. “But also super stoked. This might be one of our best performances.”

What could go wrong?

Mia had lots of adrenaline going on throughout the performance, everything was going great. They were close to finishing and Mia was the one that was going to end it with the last verse. She knew she had to finish strong.

Everything was happening so fast when the backup dancers had lifted Mia up and she had to jump down.

But when she did, Mia ended up accidentally slipping. With her shoes and floor being a bit slippery, it wasn’t a good mix which ended up making her fall back.

Thankfully the two backup dancers that were behind Mia caught what had happened and were quick to pick her back up on her feet to pull off the mistake she did. Mia felt her heart racing now, but still manged finish off the song. Except her mind was now on the mistake she had made, and only hoped it wasn’t affecting how she was performing.

They were at their ending pose, and Mia could already feel the embarrassment go through her if someone had caught her mistake. She was also going to feel bad if this mistake was going to cause their rank to go down. She swallowed hard, feeling her anxiety kick in.

And once they got the okay to leave the stage, Mia was the first to get out. “Mia.” Chan called out. He had noticed her mistake and knew she wasn’t taking it so good. Mia only ignored him, looking straight as she could feel herself slowly breaking. Tears making her vision blurry.

“Noona, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” She said, trembling.

“She made a mistake while performing.” Chan whispered to the group, low enough for Mia to not hear. “At the very end.”

“I didn’t even notice.” Jisung whispered back. He felt bad now for Mia. He knew how much Mia hated making mistakes in anything.

“Mia.” Changbin jogged up to the girl, softly grabbing her wrist to turn her around. The group finally catching up to her. “Hey, it’s okay-“

“No, it’s not.” She softly cried. “I should’ve been more careful.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, accidents happen.” Seungmin patted her back.

But as stubborn as Mia was, she wasn’t listening to them. The more she thought about her mistake, the more upset she was becoming. Mia took Changbin’s hand away from her wrist and darted away from the group, then quickly following right after.

“Mia!” Chan called out again, but the girl was quick to enter the restroom, causing all of the boys to halt. “She’s really upset.” He sighed.

“It wasn’t even that noticeable was it?” Jeongin questioned. “I didn’t even see it.”

“The two dancers behind her were quick to pick her back up to play it safe.” Chan informed. “But, we should all know her by now. She can be a perfectionist, and this was her very first mistake.”

“She’s going to be in there for awhile then, there’s no trying to talk to her right now.” Jisung sighed. “She’ll only ignore us.”

“Um, excuse me?” A voice said beside the group. “Can I please pass through to use the restroom.”

The group turned to face the direction of where the voice came from. “Oh! Elena!” Jisung exclaimed.

“Hi guys.” She bowed. “Everything okay?” Elena had questioned when seeing the groups’ facial expressions. All looking a bit upset.

“It’s Mia.” Jisung replied. “She doesn’t want to come out of the restroom because she’s upset of her one mistake she did while performing.”

“Oh, I see.”

That was when Chan had came up with an idea now that Elena had showed up. “You’ve met Mia before already, you think you could go in there and talk to her?” Chan suggested. “She probably won’t listen to us when talking to her, but she might listen to you.”

“Please, Elena.” Jisung said after.

“I’ll try my best.” The girl smiled at the group, heading towards the restroom.

Mia was sat against the wall, hugging her legs as tears continued to flow down her face. She felt like she was overreacting, it was only one mistake, not the end of the world. But the more she thought about it, the more she kept feeling worse about it.

When Elena had opened up the door, Mia didn’t dare to look up until she heard her name being called. “Mia?”

“Yes?” She sniffled, when looking up. She felt a relief when seeing it was Elena. They may have only met once but it felt nice seeing her again.

“You okay? Your members told me what happened.” The girl took a seat next to Mia.

“Not really.” Mia wiped her tears away. “It’s just, I feel a bit embarrassed and honestly not good about myself. I should have been more careful when jumping down.”

“If I’ll be honest, I didn’t even notice anything, when did it even happen?”

“Towards the end, when I had to jump down.” Mia answered. “I fell back on my bottom, but I got picked up quick.”

“Ah, see if you would have never said that, I wouldn’t have known.” Elena slightly chuckled, making Mia smile just a bit.

Elena was quick to notice Mia’s small smile which caused her to do the same. She then slightly tapped Mia with her elbow. “Your members probably told you this, but don’t beat yourself up. Especially if the mistake was quickly recovered.”

“I know.” Mia sighed. “I guess it’s hit me a little hard because this is the very first mistake I’ve ever done while performing. I’m always careful.”

“And making mistakes is definitely okay. We’re not perfect, Mia, and accidents do happen, and don’t forget yours was recovered quickly, just gotta make it work.” She reassured her. “Plus what idol hasn’t done mistakes while performing? Your members have, haven’t they?”

“Yeah.” Mia said in a low voice.

“And who knows, maybe you’ll back at this and just laugh about it.”

Mia took in Elena’s words and she was definitely right. Her words made Mia not feel too bad about the mistake happening. “Thanks for this. It definitely helped, Elena.” Mia said, standing on her feet. She put a hand out to help Elena up as well.

“Not a problem at all, glad I could help a little.”

“If you ever need anything, I got you as well.” Mia smiled. And who knows, maybe after Kingdom ends, Mia would end up having another great friend.

Elena had stayed back in the restroom while Mia walked out, feeling a lot better than before. She was met with all her members right outside, everyone staring at her. “I’m okay, now.” She said softly.

Chan broke into a grin and went in to crush Mia with a tight hug. Jeongin had came up from behind her. “That’s great to hear.” Chan patted her head.

———————————————————————————

elena belongs to @ateez-elena! please check out their blog :) hopefully we can continue collabing in the future!

[watchingtheunivereeexpand]

Lilith Clawthorne (Enneagram Analysis)

From The Owl House by Dana Terrace/Disney

Type: 1w9 Subtype: so/sx Tritype: 136 Enneagram Analysis Masterlist

-> TYPE: 1w9

Core Desire: to be morally good, ethical, perfect, fair, and balanced.

Core Fear: to be corrupt, bad, unfair, imperfect, or defective.

These types have, as mentioned above, the desire to be perfect. They want to be good and above criticism, which is why they strive for greatness and hold onto any excuse for their bad behavior. For Lilith, that was the curse. Yes, she did curse her own sister, but she deserved that position, and she's gonna cure her! She nitpicks little things to avoid thinking about her actions, like mentioning Eda's white hair in WILW.

As she herself mentioned, Lilith wanted to work alongside the most powerful witch in the Boiling Isles and to make the world a better place. Throughout the years, though, she lost that motivation, and became hyperfocused on her work instead. The one thing she could congratulate herself for, curing Eda's curse, ended up being a lie, which forced her to realize she had been corrupt for the past 30 years or so.

Lilith desintegrates onto Four: she put so much of herself in being good, being the best, that she lost her own sense of self. Who is she without magic, without a Coven? Her supposedly controlled anger was turned against herself, now that she is finally faced with the consequences of her actions, and she becomes depressed and hopeless, as we've seen in season 2.

On the other hand, she integrates onto Seven: here, she stops focusing on perfection and becomes looser, more enthusiastic and optimistic. She lets go of control and allows herself some spontaneity and fun.

-> SUBTYPE: so/sx

Lilith's primary instinctual drive is the social one, which is typically community-driven and focuses on shared goals. Social Ones particularly strive to be good role models, following rules and changing the world. They're rigid, perfectionistic, and tend to have a superiority complex. Even though they're sociable, these Ones feel separated from their group and struggle to find someone they truly relate to. That mindset certainly didn't help Lilith into being recruited into a cult, where she could achieve all her basic goals at a cost she didn't truly understand at the time.

Her secondary instinctual drive is the sexual, or intimate, one, which focuses on intimacy and intensity. Intimate Ones spend their energy perfecting the people around them rather than themselves. This can lead them to be critical, nitpicky and control freaks, but also inspiring and charming. Lilith believes her goals, joining the Coven and honoring the Titan, are superior to Eda's, for example. In season 1, we see her being irritated and confused by her sister. Why isn't she trying to be better? Why is she still getting attention, getting praised? Why does she think she's better than me?! She had no problem pointing out other people's flaws, but became defensive about her own.

-> TRITYPE: 136

Lilith's body fix is 1. This is her primary type, as mentioned above, and it also handles anger by controlling it. She bottles up her anger inside her, possibly due to her Nine wing, giving the impression that she has it under control. When she lashes out, though, is because she had a reason to! Lilith believes she can't be angry without an excuse, so she grasps for one wherever she can.

Her heart fix is 3. It handles shame and image by being the best. That's the image of herself she puts out, the composed and powerful Head of the Emperor's Coven. This fix makes her an overachiever, looking for success and acceptance, which might get her mistaken for a Three.

Her mind fix is 6. It handles fear by being suspicious and vigilant, and seeking out support and security—particularly from her community, her social instinct. Lilith's One and Three fixes might make her believe that being perfect and successful are the only ways to earn her support system.

[mlbpotter]

Sole Crusher and why I hated it.

Ahh, one of the most prodigious episode for Zoe-fans.

You see, we see Zoe in a car touring Paris as she came from New York. She entered a bakery to get something for her family (A.K.A Audrey) Marinette entered, and slipped on the floor, but Zoe being who she is, clever perfectionist, nimble, quick blah blah blah, whatever the directors want to show us, caught Marinette in a blink of an eye.

In irl, I think if somebody did slip, in front of me, I’d be too shocked to react in seconds. I’d be gaping, mouth open, too shocked to catch anyone.

Ahh, well, Marinette then talked to her a little, learnt how she only had one friend, made some of us feel pity for her (eh, Thomas). So, NOW THE NEXT PART REALLY GETS ME! Marinette didn’t know who this unknown Zoe girl was (could be a thief, murderer, kidnapper idk) yet she gave away her phone number, free pastries, and invited her to HER FRIEND’S CONCERT! OMG you dumass, you don’t just give away these things to unknown people!

Well, still, moving on, zoe went back to the car, and to the bourgeois hotel. She gave away the pastries to the driver saying her family preferred sour from sweet, meaning they were not exactly caring. Just showing what a bad mother Audrey is, Zoe, like Chloe tried to act all snobbish and mean to get her mother’s attention.

To keep it short, Zoe met Chloe and they had a very meaningful conversation. But the thing that bugged me the most was that what Chloe said. 'Your father exists only to do whatever you want, whenever you want.'

Huh? Forgot this, in origins pt.2? This shows that chloe actually loves her father.

Also, Chloe was shown locking Sabrina in a locker, and forcing her to do her homework.

......

So how do u explain this?☝️

Chloe cares about Sabrina. Thomas really ruined Chloe's character her smh, in sole crusher.

Anyways, Chloe took Zoe to the school in a limousine, with Sabrina running behind them!

BrUh, thomas? R u serious? This is a kids show, no? You are supposed to show how to be considerate, not treating ur friend as slaves!

After some more uneccessary chloe-being-cruel moment, Chloe introduces everyone to Zoe.

She says, that Zoe needs a guy to pamper, who is preferably rich....wow, Thomas you already destroyed Adrien's friendship with Chloe, what more do u want?

When Zoe pretended to hate Marinette's macaroons, Sabrina started idiolizing her immediately. SABRINA ALSO NEEDS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!!!!

Obviously, Chloe 'tried' to teach Zoe some mean habits, and Marinette was confused about the way she acted so differently at school.

Being Marinette, she texted Zoe about the the confusion, and obviously blamed Chloe. When Chloe found out that her sister was texting her arch-enemy Marinette, she became furious.

Zoe lied and said that she was planning to humiliate Marinette. One of the worst things about Zoe is that she tries to change her nature just to meet up the needs for others. Chloe only does that to impress her mother.

Zoe went up the blacony, and was met by Andre, Chloe's father, who tried to console her, by telling her his own dream. Ok, listen up, how come Andre is only nice to his step-daughter, in a fatherly way??? And treats Chloe like a spoilt queen?? What kind of a father u r, even though u know that's wrong? Ugh

Anyways, the part where Andre wanted to be a film director was pretty cool. Again, we get some background history about the character. And yes, he listened to Audrey, about being rich, not a film director, blah blah blah, showing again how bad of a wife Audrey is.

Then, we discovered that Zoe wanted to be an actress for no good reason, and yest, admittedly she is pretty good a hiding her emotions and 'acting'.

This is how Andre tried to cheer up Zoe, but obviously made the situation worse, as she only thought about the way Chloe, treated her, and not her mother. So yeah, She only has a grudge against Chloe, again showing how horrible and cruel Chloe could be, right?

Just because Chloe said, 'You either step on other people, or I step on you!' This is so out-of-character for, Chloe. She would never say that, I reckon this much.

And there we go, Zoe reluctantly wears the diamond shoes, and becomes akumatized by shadow moth.

So, her power was touching other people with her shoes, and she became bigger.

Sole crusher, found Chloe in her room taking selfies of herself, to shoe how vain she was and how much she admired herself. Ummm..when did Chloe have an obsession with taking her photos? Except maybe in the episode where Marc was akumatized.

Chloe caught a glimpse of Sole Crusher, on her mobile's photo.

She said, 'How come you are using my image without my authorization?' Old Chloe loved to be idolized, so out-of-character.

So, when Chole discovered that it was Zoe, she began running like she was in a marathon, which was again out of character, as she wouldn't run, it'd be too much of work for her.

I think the running was just to show how bad of a character Chloe was, as she pushed Marinette's parents and Marinette herself towards Zoe, to show how cruel, evil and selfish she really is.

Another thing, I think that the kwamis shouldn't be allowed outside the box very long, as someone might catch them, like Chloe almost did.

So, the reason Sole crusher didn't step on Marinette, was because Marinette is the main character of the show, and she just can't be in a dangerous situation (Thomas logic). It'd made a great plot if Marinette was crushed by sole crusher. It would keep the viewers on their toes.

Eh, well, To make look Chloe worse, they made her run further, and order Zoe to literally step on the 'losers'. AKA rest of Marinette's classmates. (Do students really meet each other like this irl?)

So Marinette discovered that Zoe was Sole crusher, and gave some advice.

Marinette: That's not true, you don't need to crush on anyone. The 'winner' and 'loser' thing doesn't exist. It's just people, each one with your differences and unique features. (after Chat Noir interrupted) Zoe, no one will judge you here. You can be yourself! You can trip, you can fall, there's always going to be someone to help you stand up. I will always support you!

Shadow moth manipulated Zoe again, So Chat Noir tripped sole crusher giving Marinette the chance to run away and transform in a place that no one can see (totally). Since Tikki followed Marinette, and Kaalki alerted Adrien about the akuma, they both were able to transform.

Since I am no good at writing battle scenes, I'll tell the main points. Ladybug used her lucky charm, and got a shoe horn. So basically, Chat Noir and ladybug both destroyed the heels of Zoe's shoes, but the akuma didn't come out. Chloe insulted sole crusher, and got crushed.

Chloe : Look at how you're treating ur very expensive shoes! Go back to wearing you hideous and plain sneakers.

So ladybug figured out that the Akuma must be in those sneakers Chloe mentioned.

So the team tried to find out those sneakers in Chloe's house. Ladybug saw Sabrina in the closet, yet asked her about the sneakers, and ignored her. Wow, shoe some empathy ladybug, or even Chat Noir!

They saw Andre, and he told them where the Akuma went. So basically Andre showed them the box, and was so scared of Audrey, that her had hid those directories a secret from her. Since that box was not opening, ladybug used her shoehorn to open that box thingy. Long story short, ladybug repaired everything, and gave Zoe the lucky charm, and left.

Skip to the noon, where Zoe went to the concert she was invited in, and Chloe still believed Zoe's lame story about humiliating Marinette, and was super pissed off when Zoe ate the macaroons.

So yeah, Zoe apologized about her akumatizatidon, and told her 'tragic' backstory. She didn't want to disappoint her family's expectation, so she pretended to be mean.

In her boarding school, she was being bullied, and pretended to be someone she was not.

And since er...the miraculous fandom characters are so 'different' and tried to be nice to her, which was pretty cool of them....

Chloe demanded that Zoe leave for New York, but Andre was pretty cool about it, and made a lame yet nice excuse for her, to be enrolled in anther boarding school. So she had a different room. Obviously, the creators showed how err..awesome Zoe is as she said to Andre, 'Promise me that you are not going to give up on your dreams for too long.' But Andre's dream was very irrelevant, as nothing of that sort was mentioned after that.

Zoe's new found friends helped her become a better person, and there were some ending pics of her.

Zoe's message to Marinette was pretty cheesy ngl. But if only Zoe was introduced as a character who didn't out smart her sister, I would honestly love her so much!

(If my dumb shit post doesn't get famous, I will quit. I literally worked so hard for this post, and also had to rewrite it multiple times)

[kpop-hive]

NCT as Social Cliques

Taeyong: The Alternative Boy; Likes to be different from others, doesn’t judge people because he doesn’t like to be judged himself. Will try to do things his way, but does have a caring heart. His friends are like his family, and tries to be self sufficient, and only rely on himself for the most part.

Taeil: The Crackhead; always in a good mood no matter what, can make anyone’s day turn from boring to interesting. He has a lot of potential as a student, and does well, he’s just goofy.

Johnny: The Popular Student; Everyone loves him, always trying to talk to him, is very nice, and doesn’t act like the popular kid, has many girls swoon over him, and is super into his academics, is a very reliable person, and treats everyone like a friend.

Yuta: The Bad Boy; Does this even need an explanation? Obviously a bad boy just from his looks. Loves to be a rebel and do his own thing, is smart, but he doesn’t put his effort into school, thinks there are other things on his mind to worry about.

Kun:The Therapist; literally everyone goes to him when they have a problem. 99% of the time he always says the right thing and they end up working. Everyone wants him to be a psychiatrist when he graduates. Or possibly a great father 👀 (Only Joking)

Doyoung: The Poetic Heartbreaker; Loves to write poetry. Anything involving writing is his thing. Loves to recite his poems at open mic nights, talent shows, in front of the class just because he loves poetry. He’s a heartbreaker because he is super romantic in his poems, but he doesn’t want a fling, he is saving himself for a special someone.

Ten: The Artistic Student; Were you even surprised? This boy loves to draw, but he is also good at everything, and is very smart and angelic looking, so of course he would be labeled as artistic.

Jaehyun: The F-Boy/ Player; Hear me out, I don’t think Jaehyun would be the type that is considered an f-boy, he is just really attractive and good at sex, his awkward persona plus his stature and charming qualities just attracts girls, but he is not going to just dump them then and there, most of the girls he fucks with know it’s just a fling and move on.

WinWin: The Quiet Kid; Very Shy, but is super nice and adorable, intelligent as well, has a small group of friends, and when he is around them he will become outgoing. Usually surprises everyone when he speaks because they never hear his voice, so when he speaks his voice flows out beautifully.

Jungwoo: The Forgetful Student; Has to have people remind him 24/7 about upcoming work due, just to remember, everyone suggests that he gets a planner or sticky notes to write down dates for things, but he doesn’t listen, will also forget about the time he has to hangout with his friends, but overall he is very sweet, he just forgets lol.

Lucas: The Jock; I shouldn’t have to explain this, very athletic, attractive, and a goofball, he’s a perfect athlete. Does almost every sport that he can try out for, girls swoon over him like crazy, and is a major flirt about it, he is very playful, and jokes around a lot, but he is a very smart student, and excels in a lot of stuff.

Mark: The Skater Boy; Of course, think about the voice, the way he dresses, and his attitude, he has to be a skater boy. Is always at the skate park during lunch, will head out with his friends on weekends, after school, but he loves to go at night. Tries to learn new tricks every five seconds. Even has one of those miniature skateboards he takes to school, and uses his fingers to practice tricks when he has free time.

Xiaojun: The Quiet Songwriter; Stays by himself, and writes lyrics. Always wanted to be a singer, and promises himself that he is going to get there. He writes beautiful lyrics, and is a sweetheart to everyone around him. Wants to share his lyrics, but is shy and wants to make sure they are perfect.

Hendery: The Partier; Can definitely see him throwing a house party every weekend, but they are always good, if you miss one one week, just go to the next one next week, it would surprise people if he didn’t throw a party. Makes sure to know a lot of people so he can have a party, and always wants them to be memorable.

Renjun: The Awkward Friend; He’s that one friend that tags along just for the fun of it. Doesn’t think to much about his actions, but that’s why everyone likes him, he’s carefree. He’s the type of friend you bring to a haunted house when you are scared. Loves to be around people and have a good time.

Jeno: Underclassman President; I don’t know why, but I always imagine Jeno as a really good class President, always trying to take care of his classmates, and making sure they are all safe, of course Jeno and Jaemin are really good friends for this exact reason. Makes sure to keep his persona as a leader, and will always keep a promise.

Donghyuck: The Classy Student; That one student that acts rich or is rich. He tends to be very classy, knows how to dress well, and always smells nice. Talks to a lot of people, and is seen as the prince of the school. He is also very funny naturally, so he gets along with everyone.

Jaemin: The Favorite Student; Always has teachers around him admired by his desire to learn, always a sweetheart, and makes sure the teachers know that as well, helps students by tutoring them, and helps his peers pass. Is in multiple academic clubs, and helps with the school to make it better. All in all he’s an adorable good boy.

YangYang: The Class Clown; of course he’s a class clown, look at him now, lmao, but seriously, he would always keep his entire class laughing at his jokes. Is in the yearbook every year for class clown, and he’s proud of that, has many friends, and is very popular, definitely a good friend to have around.

Shotaro: The Always Late Student; Never on time, always has some excuse for class as to why he’s late to school, or to a date, or to hangout with some friends. Is such a deep sleeper as well, he can sleep over his alarm a lot, but he does put effort into being on time when it counts like exam days, or important dates.

Sungchan: The Perfectionist; Wants everything to be put in a nice, neat, and orderly fashion. Always gets extra points on his projects because he puts nice designs on them and always has index cards to read off of. His classmates love when they are paired up with him because he knows he will get them a good grade.

Chenle: The Professional Friend; The one kid that is known by everyone because they swear that he is one of their closest friends. He didn’t intentionally become everyone’s “friend,” he just talks to a lot of people, he’s smart, charismatic, and funny, of course everyone wants to be his friend. Only downside is that it takes him a decade to remember everyone’s name.

Jisung: The popular underclassman; you know those freshmen or sophomores that know and hang out with only upperclassman? Yeah, that’s Jisung, basically only has juniors and seniors as friends, but also has a few friends in his grade, Attracts girls from every year because of his status, and many girls never know what grade he is in, just assumes he is upper class due to his height, and demeanor.