#i hope i dont come off as that when i complain about my shit but i feel like i can appreciate my stuff
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basslinegrave · 7 months ago
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nothing
ive been over self deprecating stuff for so long that i cant really stand it (very specific stuff. if its in a vent its ok ofc, i mean specific cases of saying nothing else but that) and its ruining some twit artists for me... like i love their art but if someone thats on a super high level of skill and creativity constantly talks about how their work sucks (i say that about mine from time to time, but not about every single piece, dont call me a hypocrite here lol) it gets a bit offputting... what do what do.. its also a reason why i dont talk much on my art twit and tumblr like i love to complain but i dont wanna sour ppls moods if they just wanna browse art yk. and its completely fine if some artists also use their account as personal but if its just saying how awfl their art is when its a literal masterpiece its like damn... and what do you say, like do they want attention (which theyre still getting) or are they just in a bad place? its all valid its just like. if this is "bad" to you then what is good art
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orcelito · 4 months ago
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ok i am actually so very angry and there's literally nothing i can do to fix it. life keeps going on. she might even be happy. and fuck dude, i'll make sure im happy too, i was a fully developed person before she was in my life and i'll continue to be one without her. but God Damn, the fact that she can just do something so blatantly awful and unfair to me and then run off without any actual repercussions is just so fucking rankling to me.
like perhaps she feels guilty. she said she did when it was all going down. but it was just something she "needed to do". so obviously she didn't feel guilty enough or she wouldnt have done it like that lmaoooo
i really did deserve to have a good solid yell at her. but unfortunately, by the time i did see her in person i just wanted her out of my fucking life. so. no yelling was done, unfortunately.
#speculation nation#the duality of being a deeply resentful and angry person. and being a person that Tries to be mature and peaceful.#like im not gonna actually Do shit even tho i keep wanting to message her just to yell at her some more again#it's like there's a beast in me that keeps yelling for retribution. she wronged me in such a disrespectful and humiliating way#and yet she just gets to walk away like it was nothing? live her life like it was nothing?#be in 'love' with her new 'soulmate' after cutting me off like a rotten limb?#i feel so DEEPLY angry. i want to spit vitriol and fire. i want to dig my claws into her bones. make her really FEEL how i feel.#i want to wander into her dreams and make her experience what i felt. every miserable second of silence.#the humiliation of admitting you might be falling in love only to be told you were never loved at all.#and i want to knee her in the gut and spit in her face and really make her regret ever fucking wronging me#but unfortunately im a stupid fucking pacifist so all the aggression and anger and violence has no FUCKING outlet#ive been. trying to not think about it too much. ive been trying to just live my life. because i dont want her to run my life.#but the anger keeps catching up to me. filtering in when i dont expect it. endless constant fucking thoughts coming back to me#on and on and on and on i live and i eat and i read and i game and i hate and i hate and i hate and i hate and i hate and i HATE AND I HATE#the greatest injustice is that i cannot make her truly feel every single ounce of my resentment and anger#it's so overwhelming i think i could choke on it. and she gets to live her FUCKING happy little life with her stupid fucking 'soulmate'#i hope it collapses around her and she loses her too so she's single and alone and miserable and regretting all of her fucking impulsivenes#she deserves to have it fail after what she did to me. and all i can really do is hope that karma has its fucking kiss for her.#if only curses were real. what i wouldnt give to put some energy into that karmic payback lmfao.#ok . ok ok ok ok love and peace on planet earth. i am shifting out of vitriolic little shit mode.#just had to let some of the steam out. im still angry but i am going to go back to not thinking about it.#i think i should go on a nice long bike ride tomorrow. to decompress and work some of the steam out.#it's something that she can never take from me. something that is so wholly mine. fuck that stupid bitch and fuck her new girlfriend too#...............................ok NOW im shifting out of vitriolic mode. lol#negative/#WAHOOOOOO i am certainly not taking this breakup well. but i dont think anyone would be lmfao.#all things considered i think im doing a pretty great job at handling this breakup.#bc at least im only recounting unrealistic threats and fantasies on my tumblr dot com instead of messaging Any of this to her.#i may kinda want her to read it so that she knows anyways. but i wont message her directly. bc i am Trying to be at least a little mature.#complaining on my tumblr dot com so i dont message my ex with more vitriol. gotta cope Somehow.
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nomairuins · 2 months ago
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we had fun tho the whole family hung out and we did some sporclee and chronophoto and then globle me n lamp nd father did globle bc mein mamma went to sleep. yay :]
#nd i think tmrw or something like that me n my mom will finish off 13s run in de#which im excited for bc im rly excited to get to 15 bc my mom loves it and im excited to be caught up so we cn talk abt everything#i am a bit bummed i ws rly hoping 2 like 13s seasons better this time around.. but i didnt :[ just the writing didnt come together 4 me and#i feel like the companions weren't developed much at all#and im famously a timeless child hater like i think its stupid for the dr to be the timeless child. like if there hss to be a timeless child#Fine ig its a fine origin story its kind of a like. answering a question nobody asked thing#where like. yk. i was fine with the tjme lords judt having regeneration#but mein mamma told me that they like drop all that and it is Nottt mentioned again eith the new writers which is so funny#the blessing and the curse new writers. bc the blessing is if there was a writing decision i dont like The new writers will completely#abandon it and go do their own shit. the downside is they do the same for things i do like#missy what happeneddd like where. UGH we cant even get into it i miss my princess so badly it hurts#ik we like. saw her die im just like. bc this master was not at all like.. it just doesnt feel like a continuation at all#my moms theory is he might actually be an earlier incarnation of the master since they never actually specify. nd then i was checking the#wiki and rheres some weird stuff like. missy forcing all of her Good parts to regenerate into some other lady and then like.#idk it just said that. so idk if that implies the bad parts regenerated into like. evil master... i dont know. but wtvr. im excited#and a little birdie told me donnaaaaa will be baaaaaaaaackkkkkk which is the best thing that could ever happen to me im SO excited. my#friend donna#i like that like. i like getting new companions inlike when companions dont overstay their welcome cough cough. clara. but i do love seeing#companions come back like sry it does get me everytime im always like My friend my friend my friend. yk. i just love to seeing them again...#oh i got distracted. i was gonna say i rly dislike the dr being the timeless child bc i rly like when the dr is judt like. a guy. gender#neutral my mom laughed at me bc i said rhat earlier and went That sounded like im complaining abt hrr being a woman. im noy#THATS WHY I WANTED 2 LIKE HER LIKE. im so bummed that the first female dr is the one with In my opinion the weakest writing. like fml. tho i#havent seen any of the older stuff so idk... just from 9 onwards is what iiiiive got going.#but ya. i ws so worried voicing my criticisms to my mom bc i ws worried i ws just being a hater or nitpicky#but my mom agreed with me on a lot and ya. i rly like discussing stuff w my mom even tho im almodt positive i annoy her sometimes bc i get#too busy discussing my theories and being like And what about this and i get distracted from the show where theyrelike#explainjng somrthing jm asking abt. JFBFJFNT#i judt love discussion. and its tly fun to talk abt it with my mom :] yay#like ikit snnoys ppl when someone talks while watching smth or theorizes while watching smth lr asks questions that will be answered#but lke its my fav part of watching things w ppl 😭😭😭 im fr the yapperrr
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smellyprincetm · 1 year ago
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FUCKING HELL
#i gotta complain cause ik every1 in my life is tired of this#my fuckin ex is being annoying as fuck#that motherfucker deleted all photos of me(as he should) but left the comments ive made#just to have a narrative of me being a weird ex who still longs for him WHEN I LITERALLY TOOK THE BREAKUP AS A GOOD THING#cause IT WAS A GOOD THING.#but he lied and manipulated fuckinh everything and I JUST KNOW that he lied to his friends about me#we were supposed to be friends but im cutting fucking all contact. he can eat shit and die for all i care.#THEN he lies about not having my stuff. i know he does. for fucks sake just give them back so i can forget about you.#i never want to have you in my life again.#IM SO FUCKING ANGRY AND DISGUSTED#he just used me lmao#you couldve at least lied a little better. if youre gonna cheat and do me dirty OWN IT. dont be a fucking pussy.#IM SO DONE WITH THIS ASSHOLE SERIOUSLY#holy shit you could at least be a DECENT FUCKING HUMAN BEING AND COMMUNICATE#i was open with you. i told opened up to you. i understood you. i broke MY OWN BOUNDARIES FOR YOU. I WOULDVE DIED FOR YOU.#just for you to do this. with all love i hope you die. in the most painful way imaginable.#YOU KNEW THIS WAS THE WORST THING YOU COULD DO TO ME. YOU JUST PLAYED A STUPID EMOTIONAL GAME WITH ME.#FOR WHAT. FOR KICKS??? GLAD YOU GOT THEM.#apparently my fwb is gonna come w me to scare him lmaooo what the fuck#he has a strange thing towards owning me so i think he will be more than happy to piss off my ex lol
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highvern · 2 months ago
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endpoint
Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader
Genre: fluff, smut, angst, FWB to idiots to lovers
warnings:  cumshot/facial, unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, oral sex (m & f receiving), rough sex, breath play (choking), mentions of exhibitionism, face fucking, virgin wonwoo mentions, idiots in love, edging (emotionally), impact play, sir kink (brief), alcohol consumption
Length: ~19.5k
Note: thank you to @gyuswhore my love, my life, for suffering through this with me. this fic is set in the same universe as her gyu fic for this collab so check it out (threat). also thank u @haologram and everyone else who beta'd this for me bc im sensitive. follow @camandemstudios for more fics!!! i will come back later and tag the people who commented on the teaser but rn im getting day drunk hehehe
summary: Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.
collab m.list || m.list
This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.
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“What’s the difference between a proton and an electron again?”
“Shoot me in the fucking head,” Wonwoo whispers harshly.
He’s a seat over, a laptop covered in gaming stickers and a coffee cup containing a lethal amount of caffeine occupying the space atop the narrow lecture desk. It’s a feign to productivity. His screen is split between thesis notes and a countdown to a new video game release that unfortunately hits 0 in the middle of lecture. 
Dr. Wagner’s intro to chemistry  course isn’t difficult – freshman aside – which is why you and Wonwoo agreed to be her teaching assistants. Easy money and a way to get in her good graces come grad school application season. You’ve TA’ed the same course since sophomore year for different professors but it’s all the same; the metaphorical killing field before hopeful freshmen become cannon fodder in the real trial of will: O Chem. 
“Me first,” you whisper back. 
Wonwoo slumps in his chair, opening the shared drive keeping track of problem areas to touch on in lab hours, and typing “check for basic brain activity” under the class To-Do list. 
Fair enough. If they can’t understand the basics this far into the semester then you two are in for a world of hurt for the next practical. You're in for a world of hurt come next study hall when half of them will complain about failing their quiz this morning despite having the answers spoon fed straight from the notes.
[09:48] You:  be nice
[09:48] wonwoo: if they were smarter, id be nicer
[09:48] You: maybe they’re scared stupid
It wouldn’t be too far off. One time a freshman burst into tears while asking Wonwoo to check their practice work during lab hours. Wonwoo swears he didn’t say anything and the kid looked on the verge of a mental breakdown if the wind blew the wrong way.
[09:48] wonwoo: from what?
[09:48] You: the fact ur trying to kill them with your mind
[09:49 ]wonwoo : i wouldn’t kill them
[09:49] wonwoo: just maim or seriously injure so they dont come to class and say dumb shit
Dr. Wagner fields more questions in front of the powerpoint. More ‘dumb shit’ Wonwoo rolls his eyes at with such obvious disgust even you feel chastised. Luckily, no one can see his face from the front row besides you.
[09:49] You: you wonder why they like me more
[09:50] wonwoo: i know why they like you more
[09:50] You: oh?
Stifling an eye roll of your own you throw a glance his way as the next message comes through,
[09:50] wonwoo: nice ass
“Alright, Y/N and Wonwoo will be passing out the study guide for the next exam. We still have a few weeks so don’t worry about the back half but try and review the modules we’ve done so far and bring questions for them during study hours,” Dr. Wagner prattles off.
The gigantic stack of printouts is split in half for you and Wonwoo to disperse around the massive lecture hall. Over one hundred students sit in this lecture; the unfortunate ones who were forced to take a 9 AM course three days a week. Half look like their brain is melting out of their ears, other’s clearly haven’t paid attention at all, and a few are sound asleep. It’s Friday after all. They probably didn’t get back from their Thirsty Thursday night out until a few hours ago.
You wouldn’t even be here if Wonwoo wasn’t a built in insurance policy.
Dr. Wagner collects her things and heads towards the front exit with a cheery, “Have a good weekend!”
“There's a party at Sigma tonight,” Wonwoo shares as you both pack your own bags. The next class is already shuffling through the doors to claim their seats.
“I have work until eleven.”
“After?”
Shouldering your bag, you head towards the door where the next class is already trickling in to find their seats. “Don’t you have a tournament tomorrow?”
“I only have to be at the party for like an hour. I can come and walk you home.”
“Fine,” you nod. “But bring your laptop. I think Chan fucked up the last set of results and we need to fix them.”
It’s not unusual for Wonwoo to spend his Friday nights with you; or another night for that matter. He lives in a dingy frat house on the edge of campus with twenty other guys. It’s an act of mercy. A long standing tradition from the week before freshman year when you two were the only chemistry majors in your orientation group and that turned into a clumsy hook up at an upperclassman’s party. You didn’t know he’d be a virgin and he didn’t know your high school boyfriend dumped you less than twenty four hours before you left for college (but not before you lost your own virginity in the backseat of his car). 
It’d been…not good. 
Wonwoo was awkward and you were unsure. But he was sweet under the bravado; walked you home that night, pretended he wasn’t interested in the fact your roommate never moved in, leaving the suite empty. But he wasn’t a good enough actor to feign nonchalance when you invited him upstairs. Turns out sex was a lot better the second time around, in a bed that didn’t belong to an unknown upperclassman who could’ve burst in any minute. 
Wonwoo isn’t your boyfriend. You’re too busy piecing together the ten year plan concocted since junior year of highschool to even think about such frilly ideas. There’s barely enough time as it is; you’ve got work, a full class schedule, TAing, and all the random clubs you’ve wiggled your way into to pad your resume. 
And he’s busy too. Navigating a sports scholarship and one of the hardest majors left barely enough time for him to wipe his own ass, let alone date. Then came research hours and TAing and the fact volleyball, apparently, wasn’t just a one semester sport, there were scrimmages, workouts, and tournaments out of season. 
It’s been over three years of your arrangement which works best because you don’t have to spend precious brain power deciphering if some random guy you went out with once is playing hard to get or just straight up not interested. You have Wonwoo. He’s simple. 
So what you have now, friends. Who hook up. And work together. Who also happens to be applying for the same PhD program for next year. Not together but at the same time.
The application website stares back from your laptop with horror. 
It’s still too early to submit any materials but it’s been highlighted in bold red in your calendar since two years ago. Everything is ready to go the second it opens—except Dr. Wagner’s recommendation. It’s the sole reason you (and Wonwoo) agreed to be her TAs this semester; she’s one of the program’s most notorious alum, her words as good as gold in securing a spot. 
Someone hacks a cough and shatters the eerie silence of the library. The backtrack of sparse typing and the custodian shuffling around to have been the only company throughout your shift. No one would choose to rot at any of the weathered study tables late on a Friday night so early in the semester. 
With the abundance of free time, you fixed Chan’s mistakes in his set of trials easily, no thanks to Wonwoo who still hasn’t shown up. It’s good though. Your stoichiometry homework is submitted three days before the deadline and the mountain of emails clogging your inbox from hopeless undergrads is in the single digits. Half the labs from last week are graded for Dr. Wagner’s approval, the other half can wait until Sunday night. A long weekend of sleep awaits once the clock hits eleven and you’re free to run home.
Wonwoo stumbless in five minutes before the clock runs out. His duffle for tomorrow is slung over his shoulder and he’s already dressed for bed, rumpled sweats and a hat he definitely wore to the party with high hopes to cut out early. 
“You’re late,” you acknowledge, cramming your belongings back into your bag. He’s close enough to get a whiff of. “And you’re drunk.”
“I am not drunk,” he argues.
The lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips says otherwise but it isn’t an argument worth having. All you want to do is get home and pass out.
He shoulders you bag, presenting his hand when you insist you can carry it on your own. The dry warm of his palm against your cold is pleasant enough you don’t argue as you tug him towards the automatic doors.
“Have a goodnight, Mr. Lee,” you call towards the security desk.
The guard, old enough to be your grandfather, calls back, “You too, sweetheart.”
Out in the balmy night, you tug Wonwoo down the street in the direction of your apartment. Two blocks and then a right turn leaving you outside the dowdy building with hallways that constantly reek of weed and new paint smell.
A pack of freshmen girls heading somewhere, marked by their matching uniform of jeans and black tops of various coverage, crowd the sidewalk straight ahead. Someone is crying, one is on the phone, and a few others stand dumbly waiting for their next movie like zombies — all incredibly wasted. You barrel through them without acknowledgement. A few drunken bitter ‘bitch’s hit your back but you ignore them to focus on the man struggling to push through the crowd without accidentally shoulder checking any of them.
On the other side, you ask, “Have fun at the party?”
“Some pledge puked on Jihoon’s stuff,” he huffs, nose scrunching.
“May he rest in peace.”
Wonwoo sways from side to side from the weight of your bag but also whatever radioactive mix was served at the party. The stairs provide an extra challenge since the elevator has been broken for weeks but thankfully it’s a short trip to the second floor.
He presents your belongings with routine ease once the front door of your apartment looms ahead. Music from the floor above shakes the walls; hopefully you can make up for the lack of sleep tomorrow morning.
There isn’t much space inside the four walls you call home – the ‘kitchen’ which is a single counter with a stove and fridge you’re barely around to use, fifteen feet away your bed in the corner, bordered by your desk at the foot cramped with a spray of errant papers and books you’ve been too busy to deal with. The monitor doubles as a TV and finally a tiny loveseat with a broken leg replaced by a stack of hard covers completes the room.
You beeline for the bathroom to wash away the filth of a long day and Wonwoo, keeping on trend, follows into the cramped space.
“Can I help you?” you ask, shirt tossed into the bin in the corner.
Wonwoo’s shirt goes the same and then his pants after a brief struggle. “You know I sleep better when I shower.” 
True.
“And I doubt you're gonna let me in your bed if I’m dirty.”
Even truer.
The water is still cold when you step in but the man glued to your back fights the worst of the chill away. Goosebumps prickle along your skin but have nothing to do with the vent that points directly into the stall (whoever designed the apartments must have had a sick sense of humor) and everything to do with Wonwoo’s mouth tracing the curve of your shoulder.
Forcing the heat blooming between your legs down to a simmer, you focus on washing up and getting into bed before it rolls into a boil and you do something stupid that’ll only leave you and Wonwoo struggling for balance. 
Shower sex is a dangerous sport. Shower sex with Wonwoo has left you both with bruises. Drunken shower sex with Wonwoo will get you both killed.
Soft hums tickle your neck as you clean up. There isn’t enough room for two people to stand in the spray at once so you take turns hogging the steamy water and braving the frigid cold until the last bits of soap swirl the drain.
Even when drying off you stay in each other’s orbit until the need for clothes and sleep drive you both out of the bathroom and back into the equally cramped space of your room.
It’s not until you’re laying on the mattress, darkness snug on all sides, that you feel Wonwoo roll atop you with purpose.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Wonwoo hums into your stomach, fingers crawling up your bare legs.
“That,” you inhale at the nip of his teeth on the curve of your thigh, “doesn’t feel like nothing to me.”
Wonwoo doesn’t answer but gives you plenty of time to brush him off while bruising your skin. You don’t. Instead you sink deeper into the blankets and let him push your shirt up until you're bare once more.
The fuzziness of alcohol lingers in his veins – just enough that he smiles into the strip of skin above your panties as you sigh and arch under the delicious weight of wandering hands and mouth at your nipple.
“Wonwoo,” you sigh and he’s up and kissing you with eager clumsiness.
A familiar prod at your core through his boxers crashes bubbles through your veins. You felt it in the bathroom but now is when you finally get to indulge with subtle grinds Wonwoo meets in his own search for friction. 
“Don’t you need to be up—ugh—early tomorrow?”
He kisses you slowly, tongue dragging along your bottom lip until your mouth opens under his. It burns you from the inside out. Mindlessly you shift your legs to frame his hips better but Wonwoo kisses deeper and all you can think about is giving in to whatever scheme he’s working up to have you both naked and panting.
He leans back a fraction to speak, giving in when you chase his lips before ducking to nip at your ear and mumbling a response. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I will worry about it when you snooze twenty alarms and your team hunts me down because I smothered their star player with a pillow,” you snort but heat under a squeeze of his fingers at your sides.
“Sleep when I’m done with this.”
“And what is ‘this’ exactly?”
A harsh suck at your jaw has your stomach tight. heavy and thick until need drips down your spine to coil in your gut and the emptiness between your thighs becomes unignorable. He hides pleased groans in the curve of your neck until you force a hand under the band of his underwear. Eyes opening, you watch the muscles of his back tense and flex as he rocks against you, fucking your fist greedily.
It doesn’t last long. Wonwoo gets antsy under the taunting pressure of your thumb and descends back down your body with burning lips. “Take your shirt off.”
“It’s cold,” you complain but do as he asks. 
He traces your figure clad in nothing but your glasses and a soiled pair of panties; damp at the crotch from his attention and Wonwoo slips a finger under the hem to tease you that inch closure to depravity.
Wonwoo laves against the hickey on the inside of your thigh from a week ago, it’s yellowed and perfectly shaped like his mouth. It’s tender under his attention, even the gentle tracing on his nose forcing you to wince in discomfort. 
He coos, kissing it before skating back to the hem of your panties, lips vibrating against your skin. “Sorry I didn’t come earlier.”
Why he brings it up now is a mystery. Or the fact he brings it up at all. Life happens. You’ve blown him off more than once for a late night in the library; no hard feelings.
“It’s fine,” you sigh as he tugs the last scrap of fabric off your body and pushes your knees up to display you like a meal.
Spreading you apart, he lands a wet kiss at your entrance before teasing with the heat of his tongue. 
In a beg for sanity you twist a tight grip in his hair; a tangled mess from his drunk endeavors. Wonwoo pushes harder, drowns in your taste with enthusiasm as you moan and sigh. 
“F-fuck.”
He won’t ask if it’s good. He knows it is. Nearly four years of hook ups attunes him to your pleasure, a well rehearsed routine that has you both ache in the best way. 
You lose yourself in shaking breaths, feet planted to drive up into his mouth for more. He sucks your clit and nearly gets his head crushed by your thighs. It doesn’t take much and he knows it. 
You chant ‘gonna cum’ in choked groans that almost die at the edge of your teeth but Wonwoo hears and takes it as permission to pull out the stops, hand at your thing with a harsh grip and fingers sinking home.
He’s memorized all the signs of your want; the wrecked echo of your throat and the sounds he pulls from you a clear tell. He flattens his tongue, holding steady as grind straight into mindless bliss. Spit pools and drips and slips down onto the sheets. Wonwoo hums praise, unintelligible but you vaguely know it’s something that’d make you blush you could hear it over the pounding in your ears.
Back arching, your vision flares white at the edges and when Wonwoo realizes what's happening he makes it last until your fist ball up and you’re floating.
Wonwoo backs down as you twitch through the tail end, sloppy kisses to your clit that could knock into another fit if he isn’t careful. But even as you tremble the only thing you want is the weight of his cock in your mouth, or inside you. You aren’t picky as long as you get to feel him cum too.
You finally manage to pry Wonwoo from between your legs with an ankle to his ribs. You’re not done with him despite the fatigue hanging around your shoulders like dead weight. He angles over top of you for a kiss that tastes too much like pussy for your liking but it’s hot knowing he’s covered in you so you push until his shoulders meet the sheets and you can claim his lap.
His dick strains through his underwear, preening when you rock back into the heat. His nostrils flare when you grab for it, stiff enough to sink onto easily. 
“Oh god,” he groans, head digging back into the pillows to watch you like a goddess.
His fingers web across the tops of your thighs, a harsh grip keeping you flat as he grinds up into the wet heat of your pussy. You whimper and sigh for him; all the sounds he loves to hear. You squeeze your chest, taut nipples framed between the slants of your fingers to entice him until he reaches around and knocks you forward for the sole purpose of taking one in his mouth.
Your eyes roll back, jaw locked open, drowning in the stretch and the bite of his mouth and the hands squeezing your ass so hard it hurts. Wonwoo groans, throaty and desperate. “Gonna cum. Wanna cum in you. Holy shit.”
He gets you on your back. Too absorbed in his own end, he’s dead weight with his tongue between your lips and harsh thrusts that take him right to the edge. It gives that grit against your clit that means you’ll come too, soaked in cum and spit and sweat.
You wish he’d flip you on your front and fuck you with a hand between you shoulder blades and the other tangled in your hair. That’s the kind of fuck that’d leave you satisfied the entire weekend he’s busy but he’s running out of steam just doing this, picking up speed in his thrust, the clap of bodies filling the room.
Chanting his name like a broken record, ‘Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo’ breathy but loud enough your neighbors will leave another passive aggressive note on your door come morning, all you can think about is his cum. On you, in you. A sick part wants him to pull out and cum on your face – he hasn’t, not in a long time because priorities and responsibilities and you're usually lucky to have even five minutes alone before someone needs either of you. But you want it. God do you want it.
“Cum on my face,” you whimper. There’s drool on your lips and sweat in your hairline. Even if he doesn't, you'll need another shower anyway.
A strangled noise escapes from between his teeth at your neck. Then he’s driving forward so hard you burn; painfully so, mouth locked in a silent choke. Your orgasm rips through your insides, jagged at the edges where Wonwoo fucks himself into your guts. 
“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, pulling away and replacing the grip of your pussy with a tight fist as he straddles your chest. 
The taste of cock floods your tongue, heady and intoxicating. You get one, two drags against the stiff head and then he’s cumming, dripping his spend over your lips, then your cheek, then your glasses because he’s a sick freak. Even in the dim light from the window he twitches at the sight. You open your mouth and replace his hold, moaning as more comes to the surface. You swallow down as far as he’ll go which isn’t much in this position but it’s the thought that counts.
Wonwoo grinds to halt with an occasional kick of his hips that leaves you choking – rigid limbs locking in place until he melts with sticky satisfaction. 
He’s up and off, your glasses in hand for a thorough cleaning, not even bothering to flick on any of the lights but you hear the sink running in the bathroom before he comes padding back.
“God,” you whimper in disgust. “That’s so gross.”
“You’re the one who asked for it,” Wonwoo snorts, soft passes of a damp cloth on your skin focused on getting you clean enough to sleep.
“Because it’s hot but you aim for shit.”
Wonwoo tosses the rag somewhere, flopping down and pulling you close as possible with a kiss on your forehead. “Next time I’ll aim for your hair.”
“Bitch.”
The sound of music from upstairs pulses through your head as you drift off, Wonwoo asleep on your chest, fingers laced together on the sheets beside your indecipherably intertwined bodies.
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Your week is divided into a simple pattern. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays you wake bright and early to attend Dr. Wagner’s chem lecture and then stay on campus attending every other class you could find to fill the gap between your evening shift at the library. Tuesdays and Thursdays are void of responsibility until your afternoon lab with the freshman near tears while learning basic titration for four hours, followed by office hours where said freshman finally come to actually cry about their grades. Those are the nights you, Chan, Wonwoo and a handful of other lab techs work on research that carries the same threat of waterworks. 
It’s there Dr. Wagner pulls you and Wonwoo aside.
“I know you both are applying to Dr. Collins lab for your PhD studies,” she starts. 
Her office reflects the same disarray as her personality; warm and lived in. Papers and exams are organized in chaos, thick stacks lining her desk waiting for you and Wonwoo to enter them into the online grade book. Books, some leather, some paperback, some the glossy cover of a textbook with cracked spines and yellowing pages are crammed into the bookshelves lining the walls until they threaten to collapse from the weight. It smells like coffee, plants, and the candle she always has burning. It’s a cozy hovel overlooking the rear courtyard of the science building that resembles the sterility of a hospital. 
Wonwoo occupies the other barrel chair with worn upholstery. You’ve barely seen him in the past three weeks, too busy with volunteering and working and classes while his own responsibilities keep him so exhausted it’s truly a miracle he’s even here. Dark stains ring his eyes beneath his glasses and he looks paler than usual. You’ll ask about it tonight when he comes over to work on your most recent stoichiometry project (which will be forgotten in favor of passing out during a movie while you play with his hair if history is anything to go by).
“I don’t think I’ve ever met two students who belong more in his lab,” she continues.
You try not to preen, but academic validation is a hell of a drug to caffeine addicted undergrads. Wonwoo perks up too. Three and a half years of barely being people for this moment and it’s finally in reach.
“However,” Dr. Wagner clasps her hands atop the dark wooden desk. “I’m writing only one recommendation this semester. It might seem unfair but I want to commit to the student that deserves it the most since my schedule doesn’t allow me much free time.”
It’s like being underwater. You hear her words but nothing registers, blinking rapidly in case this is a hallucination from falling asleep in the lab again.
“I know it might not be the news you hoped for but I know senior year is a lot, especially for students as involved as you all, and I thought this could alleviate some of the stress. You two are the only students I’m considering. So please, keep up the incredible work and we can talk again at the end of the semester when I have a more holistic evaluation of your progress.”
She stands to leave, snagging her purse and blowing out the candle with finality before abandoning the shit storm in your lap for whatever else she has to do on a Thursday night. Probably retell the events of the last five minutes to other professors in the department, laughing at the way you’ve turned purple from holding your breath.
“Have a good night you two! See you tomorrow!”
The office, once warm, feels hollow. You feel hollow. 
“What the fuck?” Wonwoo hasn’t moved either, glued to his seat as he stares at Dr. Wagner’s now vacant chair with his mouth wide in shock.
“Did that just happen?” you scoff in disbelief. “Is she serious?”
Wonwoo collapses over his knees with his hands scrubbing at his face like he also might be hallucinating. “I needed that recommendation.”
“Well, so do I,” you argue.
“I know. This is bullshit.”
“Did Changkyun say anything like this happened last year when she wrote one for him?”
“No, all three people who asked her got one.”
“Oh, so it’s just us she hates. Great!” you throw your hands up, sinking deeper in the chair. Maybe it’ll swallow you whole and the entire ordeal will cease to exist.
“She’s probably just trying to get in our heads so we don’t slack off this semester.”
“Have we ever slacked off any semester? I’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. You’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. We’re those people.”
Since starting college, since that one night during orientation where you and Wonwoo became a ‘we’. Not in the relationship sense, but in the way two lines merge. Same path, same goals, same classes, same PhD program prospects. There was plenty you two did separately but more you did together. Neither competing, but working together. 
But now that’s over.
Because only one of you can get into Dr. Collins lab, only one of you can get the recommendation, and only one of you can have what you both worked tirelessly for over the past three years.
“Listen—” you stand up and scrub at your own face. “It’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.”
“We? Only one of us can get her recommendation. What’s there to figure out?”
Your face goes hot. He’s right. “Well, I need that recommendation.”
“So do I,” Wonwoo argues, eyes cold.
“Fine.”
That recommendation is mine.
“Fine!”
We’ll see about that.
Wonwoo stays in her office, flinching as you slam the door and flee.
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The issue with fighting with Wonwoo is that as mad as both of you are, there are a million responsibilities you share that require close proximity.
Presently, it’s grading the last batch of exams. Seventy eight packets. And because Dr. Wagner doesn’t believe in convenience, it all has to be graded by the hand of two TAs running on nothing but caffeine and spite.
Which means it’s past midnight and the couch has a permanent impression of Wonwoo’s ass while you both silently fume and scratch through wrong answers with a heavy hand in red ink.
The weather reflects the atmosphere; pouring rain and thunder loud enough to shake the windows. The power has flickered in and out since the rain started but you're both too stubborn to call it quits – if there is nothing to keep you occupied then you might rip his throat out.
Wonwoo doesn’t even ask if you want more coffee before he snags your empty mug and moves to the kitchenette. You don’t look up when he sets it back down, and only grab it and take the first sip of perfectly steaming hot sweetness when he flops back on the couch without another word. 
Then the power goes out again, and doesn’t come back.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Using the flashlight on your phone, you search the drawers of your desk for candles. There nowhere to be found amongst the stacks of unopened sticky notes and tangled cords. 
Wonwoo shuffles behind you, papers landing on the coffee table completely abandoned. “We’ve been at this for hours. Let’s just go to sleep.”
“I have them in here somewhere,” you bite, another handful of chargers and a stapled you’ve never used and other things you didn’t even realize you own fill the drawer. You move to the second. “There’s only a few tests left.”
“We can do them tomorrow. It can wait.”
“No,” you spit like a curse.
Whatever Wonwoo was planning to say dies on his lips. “Fine.” 
His shirt lands over your head, you rip it off only to find him half naked in the dark, huddling under one of the throw blankets you keep on the back of the couch. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sleeping.”
“On the couch?” 
“Yep.”
“You’re too tall.”
“Well,” he draws like a pouty kid. “I don’t feel like sharing the bed with you.”
In a way it’s safer to argue about something trivial like this versus the entire reason you’ve iced each other out since that day in her office. Because at least like this, you won’t lose him. It’s stupid and petty but at least you’re speaking to each other; breaking through that wall of silence that’s been steadily growing more and more unnavigable as the inevitable draws nearer.
“Fine, then I’ll sleep on the couch and you take the bed.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. N. O.”
Fine.
It’s difficult to navigate in the dark. Your knees end up a victim to the edge of the coffee table and you trip over the edge of the rug, but you find the couch. Reaching down, you find his chest, then his shoulder. And once you’re sufficiently oriented you sit on him.
“Ow,” Wonwoo grunts as you flop down, elbow in his gut and his chin hitting your forehead. “What are you doing?”
You wedge in closer, slipping between his body and the cushions, bracing to kick him off by force if needed. “Sleeping.”
“Here?” he asks. Too aware of your plan, he turns as well, grabbing the back of the couch overhead to stay put.
“You’re too tall to sleep here.”
“And we’re both too big to sleep here together. Take the bed.”
“No,” you huff.
“No?”
“No. N.O. I believe you’re familiar with the word,” you spit.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“If you keep talking then neither of us will sleep.”
“Neither of us are gonna sleep anyway. You move too much to be comfortable like this.”
He’s right of course. Your hips already ache but if you move then he’ll find some way to pull you off. “I’m fine.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
You do the mature thing and bite him. 
The muscles corded around his pec twitch under your mouth as he flinches. “What the hell was that for?” 
You do it again.
“Stop.”
“Or what?” you ask, muffled in his skin as you move to leave another bite.
Wonwoo also does the mature thing and pins your wrists in one hand, maneuvering until you're sandwiched between the couch with his chest flat to your back.
“I can’t breathe like this,” you muffle into the cushions.
“Oh, how tragic.” You feel his words tickle the back of your neck rather than hear them. 
Wonwoo releases your wrists pinned to your stomach. His hand finds its way under your shirt, his shirt from some stupid frat fundraiser you’d been coerced into attending, flat to your belly with soothing circles. His calf hooks over your own to tangle your bodies together. He kisses the back of your neck, a simple brush of his lips that lingers.
It’s easier to feel everything in the dark. Your annoyance and frustration forged over the past weeks melts away and all that’s left is the need to have Wonwoo close. Just like this. Where there are no deadlines, or responsibilities. Where you both can drown in each others’ presence and everything else is washed away in the heavy drops pounding the windows outside.
Here, everything is uncomplicated.
The next rumble of thunder is loud enough to send you both in the air. Unfortunately, Wonwoo drags you backwards off the couch and to the floor. You land relatively unscathed but he knocks his elbow into the coffee table.
“Are you okay?”
Wonwoo groans and curses, cradling his elbow.
“Aw, tell the doctor where it hurts,” you coo, prodding his side.
He snatches your hand and pins it to his chest but not before lacing his fingers through your own. The gentle rise of and fall of breathing and the thud of his heart reverberates down your arm and straight into your own chest where something frozen softens. “Has anyone told you you’re annoying when you’re tired?”
“Yes. You. Lots of times.”
“Good. Wanna make sure you’re aware.”
Lighting turns everything white, a quick flash highlighting the room. There and gone and leaving you more disoriented than before. Rolling over, you hook a thigh over his lap which he welcomes, tugging you closer and absorbing the proximity like second nature. You’re a glutton for warmth –  Wonwoo’s warmth specifically – even in his sweater and his sweat shorts and his shirt, you still want more of him.
“We can’t sleep like this.”
You don’t want to move – laying like this, in the dark, nose dug into his chest as you twisting your fingers in his, squeezing and glowing pathetically when he squeezes back – all you want is to drown in him a little longer. Until you're forced to come up for breath.
But the sore spot between you two is still raw like a fresh bruise.
“Then sleep in the bed,” his lips drags over your knuckles as he speaks.
“No. You sleep in the bed, you’re too tall to sleep on the couch.”
“Fine.” Wonwoo jumps up from his place on the floor, grabbing your hands once again before dragging you around the coffee table towards the opposite side of the room. It’s ridiculously childish, especially in the dark where he bounces off the desk and the rug roughens the back of your legs.
He shimmies you around a corner and a cloud of laughter puffs between your lips. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sleeping in the bed, and you’re sleeping in the bed with me.”
“What if I don’t want to sleep next to you?”
“Then I’ll cry. Like that time we watched Steel Magnolias.”
“Have mercy,” you whimper.
“Then get your ass in bed.”
Deflating like a balloon, you stand. Wonwoo keeps his hands on you the entire time, guiding you down to the mattress and covering your body with his own just in case of an escape. He bunkers down in the safety of your neck, dragging your hands to his hair, mimicking the motions he craves until you take up the action and gently comb through the tangles.
A part of you wants to cry. Preemptively mourn the end of this – whatever this is. Late nights with Wonwoo, whispering in the dark about clueless underclassmen and annoying professors. Taking turns scrolling through adoptable cats at the local rescue. Cooing over them, rolling your eyes when Wonwoo finds Pixel still listed as available for adoption, a sign to him that he’s meant to have her except he lives in a frat house. Or the nights neither of you can sleep and take a trip to the local diner and tuck yourselves away in a corner booth to watch drunk people cling to consciousness over waffles and hash browns. 
There will be no more of that. Not by the time winter break comes. One of you is getting the gold ticket and the other will be up in the air with the hundreds of other people competing for the same handful of slots. And if one of you doesn't get in? 
“Was that so hard?” he whispers into your collar.
When you don’t answer, he looks up at. In the cast of lighting coming through the window he’s the same Wonwoo. The one you’ve been best friends with for years now. The one who is practically glued to your side whenever possible. 
The one who you’ll have to say goodbye to.
He meets your kiss lazily. Like he still thinks you have all the time in the world.
It makes the urge to cry that much worse.
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The rain is gone by morning. 
The room glows from the orange light of the first minutes of sunrise. Sometime in the night you rolled to your side and Wonwoo pressed tight to your back. He’s awake, drawing shapes on your hip beneath the fabric of your shirt.
“Morning.” 
You hum and roll over to burrow in his chest, the crown of your head digging into his neck and away from the sun. “Morning.”
The warmth of his hands trace the curve of your back, pulling you closer; hiding his own discontent with such an early break in the tentative truce that only seems to exist in the late hours of night and earliest minutes of dawn. Days of sleep deprivation with nothing but sterile lighting in the lab leaves you both needy and vulnerable. So he hugs you tighter and sighs when you do the same.
He’s hard against your thigh. Clearly a result of biology more than need because he’s snoring against your hairline. Flashes of dreams rush forward – him beneath you, on top of you, behind you. It’s been weeks since you two last fucked. When you called him an idiot and he called you stubborn and next thing you were on the table with your legs spread for Wonwoo’s hand in a clumsy bump and grind while arguing about which one of you fucked up the biosensor callibration through gritted teeth and needy whimpers.
You’re wet. With his thigh pressed between your own the fact becomes more evident as the urge to curl into it nags.
Taking advantage of the exposed curve of skin beneath your mouth, you kiss and suck with lax intent until Wonwoo tips his chin up and gives a silent green light.
A heavy hand drags down his front, nails scratching bluntly through the fabric until it can slip beneath the waistband of his sweats and the curve of his cock sits pretty in your palm. Commando for convenience and comfort. More the latter because there’s no shot in hell he’s been getting laid lately.
His breath is sticky in his throat, vibrating beneath your teeth from thin pants as you work him through a loose fist. “Can I?”
“Yeah,” he huffs. “Yes.”
Slouching down, your head rests on his stomach, sweatpants bunched around his thighs. The first lick sends his hips up in search of more and you eagerly supply the soft suction of your mouth; lips catching around the flared head. A hand on the back of your skull keeps your hair from interfering as he plumps against your tongue. 
Eagerness fails to penetrate this moment slowed down by the greater need to drag this out. To savor every second because who knows when you’ll both stop being petty enough to just enjoy one another’s presence again.
“Might cum—fuck— don’t stop,” he grunts.
With the sun filling the room even more you’re running out of time, the warmth growing to leave sweat at the small of your back. He pushes harder into the curve of your throat and you let him, gagging wet with a lewd mix of spit and pre-cum that has you both moaning at the choked sound. Jaw slack, Wonwoo fucks your mouth with slow ruts; stomach tightening and the hand in your hair fisting tight enough you moan.
“Shit, babe—c-cumming,” he whines with a pathetic groan you’d make fun of him for later but all you can think about is the thick taste of cum and if there’s enough time for some attention between your own legs before life becomes unignorable. Not enough time for a real fuck but Wonwoo has a few tricks up his sleeve that promise satisfaction.
You bounce back down next to him and Wonwoo pounces, rolling on top of you, thing between your spread legs. He doesn’t shy away from your tongue against his teeth, dips a thumb beneath your chin and slips his tongue right along with it, sucks your lips until the swell, backing off only to bunch your shirt up. Lazy drags of his mouth on yours – not the ‘I need you’ kisses after a late night but the ‘I miss you’ ones after weeks of passive aggressive silence.
He licks down your front, goosebumps blooming from the draft as he sucks a nipple until you arch and twist a hand in his hair. You give a lax stretch and sigh while his hand slips beneath the edge of your panties.
Taking the morning for what it is, you fall into the motions until the blare of the alarm clock signals the beginning of the end.
You push away and swipe blindly at the night stand to make it stop but Wonwoo has other plans. 
He pins your hips down, tongue flat to the crotch of your underwear with a pant. “Ignore it.”
“What?” You look at him and find tired eyes watching back from over the edge of your wrinkled shirt. His hair is a mess, stuck to the side of his head from sleep and your eager hands and all you want to do is comb the tangles out while he pulls your strings like a puppet master.
But you can’t.
“We’ve got class,” you gasp through a hot kiss on your clit.
A groggy groan of, “skip,” vibrates on your skin.
Fingers curling in the sheets, you grasp for disagreement only to find a moan as he pulls your hips closer and works a finger where you need it most.
“We can’t.”
“We can,” Wonwoo grunts, focusing on peppering greedy kisses to the sensitive insides of your thighs. “We’ve been early every time this semester.”
The hand not curling in your guts runs down the back of your calf, bending until it hooks over his shoulder.
“Fuck, Wonu,” you whine over the crude sounds of his mouth. You want to. God, do you want to. But you open your eyes again and they land on the stack of exams on your desk. Ungraded. Because Wonwoo said you could do them this morning. And now he wants you to skip class despite how important it is. 
You close your legs only for Wonwoo to take it as a challenge, pinning your hips in place and celebrating his perceived victory with a throaty moan as he rocks against the bed.
“Stop.”
He pulls back, mouth wet and brows furrowed. “Huh?”
The alarm on your phone pings again. Swiftly silenced this time as you roll out from beneath him and land beside the mattress on unsteady feet. “We can’t skip. We have to give exams back.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” he argues, flopping down into the warmth you left vacant.
The room is too bright, a clear sign your morning routine is behind. “You think now is the time to start slacking off?”
“It’s not slacking off.” Wonwoo snags his glasses. He looks more annoyed with them. “It’s a break. You clearly need one.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Just forget it. I’m not arguing with you about stupid shit.”
“And what's stupid shit? The job we signed up for? With the professor who controls our futures?”
Wonwoo fixes his pants and rolls out of bed. On the opposite side. As far away from you as possible. “Whatever.”
“Fine.”
“Fine!”
“Good!”
“Good!”
You slam the bathroom door shut with finality. When you come back out, any trace of Wonwoo is long gone.
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There aren’t many people in class. A benefit of Halloweekend is the partying starts Wednesday and doesn’t stop until the following week. Even with last night's rain plenty of students are battling hangovers which leaves a third of the usual lecture attendance to witness you and Wonwoo go head to head while Dr. Wagner sits at home with a mysterious illness she announced in an email three minutes after nine AM.
The few that are there snag their papers, lips curled in disgust at the plethora of red ink spilled on white pages. Their own faults for not paying attention during lecture but maybe the scarlet gashes were a little dramatic. Wonwoo’s jaw is tight, pointedly ignoring you except to hand exams over that someone is waiting for with dread in their eyes. 
You could’ve skipped. It wouldn’t even count as skipping because class is canceled and there’s no award for hauling ass at the crack of dawn when your advisor isn’t even here to see it. You could be tucked away in your apartment with him under your skin; firmly in the place between dreams and waking where you liked him best, nothing but warm skin and rough hands with his lips on your hairline and your head burrowed in his chest. 
There are too many witnesses to just drop the act and wrap your arms around him from behind until he gives in. Apologize for the stupid shit he rightfully called you out on. But as your courage grows with each student’s exit, Wonwoo makes to leave before you can make use of it. 
Barely an hour of fighting and it already feels like an eternity.
“Hey,” you call.
He freezes by one of the desks near the back of the room, like he’s shocked you’re even there in the first place. But he doesn’t turn around; just tilts his head so you know he’s listening even if he doesn’t want to.
“Sorry about this morning. I-I think the stress is getting to me.”
And the fact that I can’t be mad at anyone besides the universe for this incredibly shitty situation. And I miss you. Even when you’re right next to me.
“Okay.”
“That’s it?” you fidget with the strap of your bag; a million pounds heavier even without the weight of ungraded tests that Wonwoo snatched before you could divide the remaining work.
He turns around, eying you with an exasperated look. “What else should I say? You called me a slack off and implied I don’t do my job.”
“I didn’t,” you argue but it’s salt in the wound because—
“You did.”
“But—”
“It’s fine. I’ll finish grading the exams over the weekend.”
And then you're alone.
You’re alone in the study room you both usually occupy to work on the Nanochemistry project due at the end of term. The shared document has updates, the blink of his cursor mocking your from wherever he hunkered down. Away from you. The temptation to type ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again disappears once he logs out barely a minute after you logged on.
You’re alone at the circulation desk of the library through your shift, head whipping around to every squeak and cough only to find someone who isn’t Wonwoo. There’s an email from him, to Dr. Wagner with you CC’ed, about class averages and exam questions that should be thrown out.
You walk home alone. Other students in various states of dress and intoxication crowd the sidewalks, a few you recognize but they feel a million miles away.
Alone in your apartment, the two mugs from last night clean in the sink.
The good part of being alone is when you start crying, no one is there to see.
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It’s near midnight and the chill of the breeze whipping down the street bites at your exposed skin. Already the should-be-condemned frat house pulses with life, the promise of a long night ahead thrumming through the symphony of drunk screams and music.
It’s not unusual for you to attend frat parties. Wonwoo’s favor guarantees free booze and a perch at the top of the staircase where underclassmen are barred from entering. But you’ll settle for watching drunk underclassman stumbling over the front lawn from one of the couches on the front porch (which are so broken in, no one sinks into the cushions – they just fall straight down until the worn springs catch them) because the inside of the house is too hot, and too crowded, and far too loud. 
A hail Mary apology is the only thing on your mind. Yesterday had been the nastiest spat in recent history between you two; notwithstanding sophomore year when Jeonghan asked you for tutoring and Wonwoo insisted on helping. “Helping” meant cutting off every question Jeonghan dared ask with a series of snorts and huffs until you left and refused to talk to him for a week.
He’d apologized in the most Wonwoo fashion – completing your Thermodynamics assignments for the rest of the semester and before going down on you until you threatened to kick him in the head through sensitive sobs.
Wonwoo is here – somewhere. Shuffling up the past, past the line of eager party goers looking for a way in, you scan the front porch, he’s not in his usual waiting spot to whisk you upstairs where the older members hang out with better drinks and better music. Not that he would be. He doesn’t even know you considered coming to this.
Instead, poor Chan, dressed in yellow and black stripes, mans the door with pilot Jihoon by his side.
“Jihoon,” you greet, before looking at the younger man. “Speed bump.”
Chan mumbles something under his breath but lays on the ground regardless. When Wonwoo went through the same hazing you only got a few chances to enjoy the ridiculousness before he dragged you upstairs and shut you up himself.
“Can you not torment the kids?” Jihoon grunts.
“I could. But, where’s the fun in that?” 
“Your boyfriend is inside. If you see Jun, tell him it’s his turn to watch the door.”
“Got it.”
Stepping over the underclassman still laying on the ground, you head inside and straight for the packed kitchen to get a drink. There’s barely any space between the hoard of bodies, forcing you to shuffle forward everytime there's a gap in the crowd; but it’s more like swimming against a rip tide. 
It’s difficult to see with nothing but a few strobe lights and some strings of Christmas lights to clear the dark. One glance up towards the upper landing of the staircase is all it takes to find him right next to Mingyu. Matching costume, two bean poles standing out from the crowd of shorter men. Mingyu makes a brief nod in your direction but before you can see Wonwoo turn you’re off into the kitchen.
It’s an even tighter fit in here. A pledge pours drinks from a cooler, for a brief second you’re tempted to indulge. The last time you did, freshman year, you ended up crying in Wonwoo’s room mid-hookup. You scan the slim pickings and settle on an unopened beer. The shots you took while getting ready are already catching up.
Forced between anxious isolation and drinking, a few of your friends come up and briefly make conversation. You feign interest, eying over their heads for a familiar mop of dark hair without success.
A few guys stop to compliment your costume. They give themselves away in glazed heavily lidded stares, single minded focus on your legs. They ask what your major is, boast their status as pledges to your disinterested grimace, and move on when you finally put them out of their misery and fib about your “boyfriend” being “president or something” but “I don’t pay attention to those things,” and they all disappear significantly paler than when they first appeared.
You bite the bullet of your pride and turn to leave, only to find Wonwoo barely an inch away.
His eyes burn over your figure, the short toga covering just enough for you to avoid public indecency. Good. It’s the entire reason you wore this stupid costume in the first place. He’s a horny loser for nerdy shit and this is the best thing you could’ve worn other than one of those video game character costumes forcing your boobs in your throat and leaving you at serious risk for public indecency.
It’s not the first time you’ve wrapped yourself in barely enough fabric to constitute an outfit for the sake of his forgiveness and it probably won’t be the last.
Wonwoo pins you to the counter with his hips, hands bracketing your figure on either side. The green hat with an ‘L’ is lopsided on his head but at least he didn’t wear the fake mustache. “So, what is your costume?” he hums into the space just below your ear with a kiss.
“Guess.” You tilt your chin, cocky.
“And if I get it right?” he asks, lips at your ear.
Heart pound, you ditch the beer and reach for his hips with purpose. “Whatever you want.”
“Dangerous words.”
“Think of it as my apology for being a huge bitch yesterday.” 
He sighs into your neck, arms tight around your waist in a loose semblance of a hug. It’s a farce. Your ass meets the counter with minor effort and Wonwoo claims the space between your legs before you can pretend to object.
He still hasn’t kissed you.
You want more than kisses. You want to feel him, all of him. Want to drag him to the living room serving as a makeshift dance floor and sink into the heat of his body pressed flat against your own for everyone to see. You want to pull him into that closet off the main hall, familiar from that hot night of freshman year when a drunk make out turned into a timid fingering and eventually Wonwoo handing over his first time on a silver platter. Or even run back to your apartment, pluck through the leftover Halloween candy you bought on discount and watch whatever horror movie has become his recent obsession. You just want him.
“Mingyu thought you were Socrates.”
Pressed this close on the sticky counter, his body is the only thing protecting what little of your dignity is left. Even then, there's enough of the slippery warmth of alcohol to tempt you into rutting against him right here for those stupid pledges to see. “Mingyu is an idiot.”
“Clearly,” he chuckles. “The rubber chicken gave it away.”
You shake it at eye level. “Behold, man.”
“Lame,” his kissing gets bold down the shaft of your neck, teeth scraping your collarbone.
“Oh please, I feel your boner.”
He doesn’t resist you when you nuzzle along the bare parts of his neck, a tease of soft kissing usually reserved for quiet moments tucked away in your apartment. Even in the chaos of the party, body heat turning the air uncomfortably warm, you crave more of his closeness. 
His hands feel nice on your legs. None of the timid gentleness of years prior when he’d touch you like it’d burn if he wanted it too much; trailing higher and higher but never under the short hem of the bedsheet turned dress. His fingers flex into the muscle at the outside of your thigh, hook behind your knees and drag you to the edge of the counter. 
You're sweating through your own skin when he kisses you. 
The need in your gut blooms at full force. Your mouth loosens, welcoming his tongue and teeth and whatever else he’s generous enough to give while you tug at the loose fabric around his hips to force more close proximity; the zipper of his pants is hot against your core and if you fucked him right here it wouldn’t look that different than the PG-13 make out happening right now. 
“Wanna show me your room?” You blink like some moony eyed freshman, glassy, pupils blown from vivid images of all the possibilities in the solitude upstairs. Wonwoo is fine with the game of whatever your apology entails even if it means you throw cheesy lines like that.
He ushers you off the counter, flat to your back as he pushes through the crowd with you ahead. Even in a drunken haze people part out of his way because of the mastery of resting bitch face only he seems to have despite the complaint putty that lies behind it. A private smile splits your lips. He can’t be that mad. Not with how he pulls you closer, in the protective way he so often does in the buzz of a single minded crowd with more alcohol in their veins than blood. 
Mingyu is standing on the landing. Girls in scraps of fabric eye him up and down, even in his stupid costume with the mustache but he ignores them in favor of pouting straight into a red cup.
“Why is your boyfriend moping?” 
“Fuck if I know.” Wonwoo focuses on sucking another bruise on your neck like no one's watching. 
You’re loose enough not to care about Mingyu’s annoyance as Wonwoo ushers you by. “Cheer up buttercup, I’m sure there’s a Peach here into charity fucks!” 
It’s meant to be encouraging, but Mingyu looks like he’s torn between strangling you and throwing himself over the banister.
Maybe you did lie about being Wonwoo’s girlfriend, but he is president and his room is the biggest and furthest away from chaos. Up on the top floor where the music isn’t as loud and the only people on this floor are other members and their guests for the night.
Wonwoo pushes you inside, kicking the door shut loud enough you wince before crowding you against the wood. You throw his hat away somewhere into the darkness, hand twisted in his hair as he kisses you. Sloppy and gross until he rocks into the softness of your stomach, gasoline on the flame.
“Turn around.”
He barely gives you enough space to do so, pressing you flat once again, cheek squished to the door and a rough pull at your waist. 
“If you’re thinking about touching my asshole, don’t. I have shit to do tomorrow,” you warn. 
On the other side of the door you hear footsteps but they pass by without stopping.
“Noted, but not what I’m going for,” he jokes. 
Your skirt flips up and a draft against the damp crotch of your panties sends a tremor straight through your core. “Share with the class.”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I’m shaking in my toga.”
“And you call me a loser.”
“I can call you some other things,” you grit, pushing back into the heat of his covered cock. “They aren’t as nice though.”
“Yeah, yeah. Take your panties off.” 
He’s a little bit of a freak. Sometimes he enjoys fucking you in nothing but your underwear and others he wants you in everything but. Maybe because of how this entire thing started; when you wouldn’t even take your bra off and he survived on the barest flash of nipple.
The flimsy soiled fabric barely passes your knees before he’s on you again, easily tempted by the arch of your spine. You hum content as he presses a finger into your cunt, then two. His other hand forces the neckline of your dress down and lo-and-behold your lack of bra delights like you knew it would.
Whatever bright idea that fluttered in Wonwoo’s brain is forgotten as he spins you back around for an eyeful of naked skin; a mouthful of your chest and your leg hooked around his hip for a pathetic dry hump into the heel of his hand.
“Oh, fuck,” you moan with extra emphasis and a caved stomach because there’s teeth and he makes it hurt. “Kiss me.”
Another rut into your thigh and his teeth are back at your bottom lip. It’s not exactly what you anticipated when you showed up tonight but there are far worse places than having a doorknob in your back while Wonwoo leaves a hickey below your ear; a perfectly good bed ten feet away but neither of you can be bothered to move much more than forcing Wonwoo’s pants down enough his cock leaks in your grip, head nestled at your entrance.
You surprise him by sinking to your knees. Head tipped back against the door, you tilt your mouth open to welcome him on your tongue. Wonwoo stares down at you; tits out, hand between your legs as you suck his cock in quick motions until he takes over and fucks into the curve of your throat. 
“Holy s-shit,” he hisses and you flatten your tongue to help him along. It feels good; seeing him reduced to so little just from the wet suck of your mouth on him. 
A choked gag forces Wonwoo back into his body, hips curving away so you can swallow air before leaving a sloppy kiss on the tip. Seizing him in a tight grip, you use the spit to jerk him off until he cringes with another pathetic moan. 
Someone giggles in the hallway, close enough you both hear. They’re far enough away you can still whisper to Wonwoo. “Remember that time we fucked in here last year?” 
“When you almost got us killed?”
Last year, at the same party, when you showed up in a skin tight Shego costume, Wonwoo pulled you to the only available room: Seungcheol’s. It’d been hot. Fucking when you aren’t supposed to, having Seungcheol pound at the door while Wonwoo came down your throat (no condoms and no hope to clean up).
“Do it again.”
His hand creeps into a loose collar around the base of your throat. You keep rubbing between your legs, working up a slick slide until your nails dig into the skin of his thighs.
“Really?” There’s no need for muffling the noise when it's his room and the only people at risk of hearing anything have done far worse. He pulls you to your feet, forces your cheek against the door and slides right behind you. Like he was made for you.
“Choke me,” you gasp before digging into the sick part of your brain that likes seeing him strung out, extra breathy just to see his eyes go wide. “Sir.”
Your skin sticks to the door, shamefully squeezed as he drags his cock through the mess of your pussy. “You can’t just say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because—”
“Because what?” you goad. “Gonna punish me?”
“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Show up wearing this,” he grits, tugging at the white fabric bunched around your waist, using the hand on your throat to squeeze your cheeks tight with authority you drool for.  “Asking to be choked and now you probably want me to spank you and call you a good girl.”
You grunt through the raw thrust at your gut, sending your head back from sheer enthusiasm. “N–not my fault you fuck me so good.” 
Wonwoo almost can’t control himself, hearing nothing but praise fall from your mouth as he fucks you limp against the door. “God.”
Someone screams, “Leave room for Jesus!” from the other side of the door and you almost rip it open to kill them if Wonwoo wasn’t dragging you to the bed. 
He folds you onto your front, both standing at the foot of the bed. A deep roll of his hips and you’re filled completely. 
“O-oh, fuck me,” you moan, uncaring if the idiot outside the door is still listening. Wonwoo has a hell of a hand and puts it to use against the curve of your ass. The coil in your gut pulls taunt as he delivers one after another.
He fucks deeper, a the hand not burn against your bottom between your shoulders. “You look so good— ah —taking my cock like this.” His voice waivers with the same stunted rhythm of his hips. 
“W-want,” you choke on spit, drooling into the comforter. “Wanna taste you.”
The animalist need to suck both your flavors off his cock nearly sends you into a fit but Wonwoo’s there, hooking his hand back around the front of your neck with a subtle squeeze. You want the stupid dress off, you want Wonwoo’s clothes off, you want to fuck him where there’s no one around to catcall in the hallway like twelve year old boys. Want. Want. Want.
What you get is enough pressure from his fingers that your mind blanks. Wonwoo gets a tight enough squeeze on his cock that he’s forced to a grinding halt. 
Then his rhythm goes deeper, harder. Course curls against the resistance of your ass until you almost collapse against the edge of the bed. His cock hits that spot like it was made for your body. “Touch yourself.”
You comply without further command. You’re wet, soaked, arousal smeared down your thighs from Wonwoo’s treatment. Your fingers bump against his length as you match the pace of his strokes. “Fuck, Wonwoo — hmmm.” 
“Tell me how it feels,” he gasps like it’s his first breath in hours.
“Wet, so wet,” you croon, arching harder, joints locking. “Gonna cum. Oh my god.”
He reaches low, grabbing your hand from between your thighs and pulling it to his mouth for a taste. His tongue slides between your digits, liquid slick with a soft suction your crave on your clit. 
“Beg for it.” Wonwoo bites your shoulder hard enough you cry. 
Stuffing your hand back between your legs, you play with your clit clumsily. Until pink crowds the edge of your vision and it hurts. “Please, please! I need—Want it. Wanna come for you. Please, sir.”
Wonwoo strains to hear your pleas over the clap of bodies. He’s worked you near the middle of the bed, practically laying on top of you as he fucks in quick succession. 
“Harder, fuck me,” you demand. “Yes, yes, y–yes!”
If you were on top you’d fall straight off, jerking tightly under Wonwoo’s weight, turning your face to greet his tongue between your teeth and mewling sensitivity. He doesn’t show mercy, continuing to fuck you through the worst of it.
“Holy shit,” you whimper, head throbbing. Wonwoo forces you back on your knees and you fight through sore muscles and sensitivity to preen under the weight behind his hips. 
“Can I come in you?” he asks in a shivery breath.
You nod with closed eyes, tugging the hand around your throat to your lips and sucking his fingers like it’s a cock. He finishes with a choked breath, flooding your insides with sticky warmth you’ve never gotten used to in all the months you’ve fucked without condoms. 
His breath fans against the nape of your neck, another swivel of his hips from the sensitivity. Your walls squeeze as Wonwoo pulls away. 
You roll onto your back with a bounce, Wonwoo jostling you when he joins. Shoulder to shoulder, you stare up at the ceiling while catching your breath. “Do you think you’ll pop a boner when your students call you a sir next year?”
Wonwoo heaves a long breath, amusement in his voice. “I come inside you and that's the first thing you think of?”
Immediately you regret the joke. Since Dr. Wagner’s announcement weeks ago neither of you had broached on the topic of what happens after graduation. Mostly from fear. But also because it’s a long discussion you’re not exactly sure what you want out of.
“Answer the question.”
“I hope not.”
The bed shifts beneath your knees as you crowd over Wonwoo, laying with his arms behind him to keep from sinking flat. The tired lines of his face look deeper in the lamp light. He’s nothing more than a big softie that wants to cuddle half naked in his bed while you play with his hair until sleep finds its place.
“It’s our last Halloween party.”
“Wow, just like old times,” you snort. “Should I start crying? Then it’ll be just like freshman year all over.”
Wonwoo laughs, his hand snatching yours and lacing your fingers together. “You wore a bra and bunny ears freshman year so if you’re gonna whip that out too – by all means.”
“God, we were so lame,” you announce matter of factly. Crying in lingerie and animal ears in one of the supply closets downstairs all because—
“Don’t rope me into that, miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’.” Wonwoo rolls on top of you, hoping to silence whatever argument bubbling in response with a teasing press of his lips. You're still sticky with sweat and spit and cum, nipples and pussy out and the thought of his dick, limp against your thigh, makes you sensitive all over.
“That’s former miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’,” you trail off into his mouth. “And you’re one to talk. Remember the time you cried about how happy you were that we were friends.”
He bites your lip in retaliation. “I didn’t.”
“You did. I have the video from Mingyu.”
“I thought he was an idiot.”
“He is but he’s good for blackmail.”
You might consider staying the night if he keeps tracing his nose along the arch of your collarbone. But a shrill giggle and some pornographic moans ring through the walls of the neighboring room. Not the side Seungkwan occupies. Hoshi’s. And it’s only the start.
“We can’t sleep here.”
Wonwoo collapses, tugging you with him. “I can’t ditch again, I’m on pledge duty.”
“You’re hiding in your room with me.”
“Okay, technically I’m on pledge duty.”
He wouldn’t stay here if he wasn’t required. Wonwoo hates party nights, especially Halloween. Too many variables requiring all hands on deck; too many needy people demanding his presence for some issue that could’ve been handled if they used their brain to think farther than the tip of their nose. Rarely, if ever, does he sleep in his own bed when you have a perfectly good one tucked away in a private apartment without thirty other men tripping over each other. 
“Well, I’m not sleeping with that.” On cue, another whimper, clearly a man’s, breaks through the tentative silence. Are they fuck against the shared wall?
Wonwoo sighs, scrubbing his face before moving for his phone. “I’ll send one of the kids to walk you.”
“Wow, a pledge escort. How thoughtful,” you sneer.
He huffs again, unwilling to start a fight that’ll leave neither of you satisfied. “Text me when you get home.”
You don’t.
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There is an unspoken habit between you and Wonwoo that Sunday mornings are spent at the only reasonably priced coffee shop just near your apartment. A charming hole in the wall, with hanging shelves displaying layers of tchotchkes, paintings lining whatever free space between them, and wobbly tables with equally unbalanced chairs. It’s always packed because the coffee is decent and they have outlets. After last night, you hope he’s too exhausted to even think about showing up.
Mugs click against dark lacquered tables, the dull murmur of conversation churns over the music swelling softly through the speakers. The smell of pastries and espresso wake you enough to slide into a vacant table in the corner and set to work. 
Or you would’ve if someone didn’t sit down first.
“Oh.”
Wonwoo already has a mug and a little brown bag as he looks up at where you stand dumbly.
“I can just go…sit somewhere else…” You turn to leave, except there are no other tables. Couples and groups claim every single seat except the one across from Wonwoo.
“Why would you do that?”
“I don’t know, probably because I’m mad at you.”
He unpacks his laptop, shaking his head. “You’re not mad at me.”
“Yes, I am,” you emphasize. 
“You’re a bad liar.”
Neither of you are good at lying. Even worse at fighting. Incapable of committing to real anger when it takes all your energy to stand up straight and not fall asleep in a pile of ungraded papers and half finished assignments. Besides, you're only pouting because he passed up a night at your place to clean up pledge vomit. 
You can’t tame the annoyed grin cracking your face.  “Fine, I’m not that mad at you. Buy my forgiveness in the form of coffee.”
“Too much caffeine will kill you.”
“I can only hope,” you sigh, arms cradling your head against the hard wood of the table while he joins the queue at the register.
Wonwoo orders your drink and a cheesy pastry the size of your head, the smell of greasy carbs first thing in the morning softening the ice in your veins. He knows your weaknesses too well. 
“Is this penance?” 
“Something like that.” He tears the crispiest corner off and pops it into his mouth.
“Did you look at the study guide for Calc yet?”
Two hours later you approach the counter for a second round of coffee and snag one of the jammy tarts Wonwoo likes but rarely buys for himself. Whatever chaffs between you two melts under the constant stream of note checking; Wonwoo’s hand on your knee under the table helps too. 
“If I look at this anymore, I’ll run into traffic.”
“We’ve got the Nano project that needs some work,” you suggest. 
He stretches wide, a sliver of skin visible between the hem of his sweater and the band of sweat pants. “I’ve got practice in an hour. We can do it tonight when I’m done.”
You try not to stare and instead return to focusing on the screen of your laptop burning your retinas.“I’m tutoring Seungkwan.”
“After?”
“He’s gonna be a bitch and the last thing I wanna do is look at more school stuff.”
“Then no school stuff,” he decrees with finality. “I’ll bring mushroom pad thai from that place on Market.”
“Are you trying to bribe your way in?”
“Is it working?”
You hum a dismissal but watch him through your lashes. He looks good – washed in late afternoon glow, hair a mess with glasses and a sweater that hangs off his shoulders. It all screams ‘drag me to bed and nap the rest of the day’ which is trouble for you because you still want to be mad at him if only to see how fair he’s willing to go for your forgiveness.
“We can watch Yellowjackets,” he barters, packing his bag.
Another group eyes your table with hope to claim it the second it’s available. Sadly, your ass is firmly planted for the rest of the afternoon. With or without Wonwoo.
“You’re really trying to butter me up, aren’t you?”
“I cannot sleep in that house,” he deadpans. “Please take mercy.”
“Oh, so you’re just using me for a place to sleep. Even after I wore that stupid Halloween costume?”
He pauses, eyes glazing like it’s a distant memory and not less than twenty four hours ago. “You looked hot.”
“You made that pretty clear.”
“Anyway, I’ll come over after practice. You can bitch about Seungkwan until you pass out.”
“Fine, but if there is no pad thai then don’t come.”
“Whatever my woman demands,” he snorts, dropping a kiss to your lips before turning towards the door.
Two hours and another coffee later, Seungkwan occupies Wonwoo’s abandoned chair. There’s no reason for him to be taking an intro chem class as a Creative Writing major other than the fact he’s a bit of a masochist. He’s not half bad at it and doesn’t really need any tutoring but you get paid for showing up even if it’s complete silence as you pick your nails until he needs something.
You’re marking through his latest attempt when he finally speaks up, “You're dating Wonwoo, right?”
Red pen scratches through the edge of the paper. “What?”
“You and Wonwoo.”
What is the absolute configuration of the two carbon atoms in this compound? More red ink.
“What about me and Wonwoo?”
Seungkwan rolls his eyes with exasperation, like you’re on the outs of some obvious joke. “Dating.”
If an alkene has 24 hydrogen atoms, how many carbon atoms does it contain? Another X.
“No.”
“Oh, I thought—”
“We’re just friends.”
When 10 g of 90% pure lime stone is heated completely, the volume (in litres) of is liberated at STP is… Wrong, again. Which makes no sense because Seungkwan is good at this level. He’s fucking with you on purpose.
“Huh,” he comments, grabbing the worksheet back from your claws.
“‘Huh’ what?”
“I heard a rumor he had a girlfriend last night, that’s all.”
It's not the first time someone assumed there's more between you and Wonwoo then there actually is, your fib last night clearly fanned the flames of even more speculation. But neither of you date; not enough time, willpower, or patience to entertain someone around packed schedules. If you and Wonwoo didn’t have the same life within the chemistry department then you’d never see each other. It’s convenient as it can possibly be. 
Maybe at one point there was. Summer of sophomore year when he studied abroad in Spain and the usual substance of correspondence morphed from memes and jokes to something softer; I miss you’s and you’d like it here’s. Late night phone calls that lasted hours, refusing to hang up first until one of you fell asleep and the other finally canceled the call. 
But the opportunity to tip over the edge came and went without coalescing into whatever was on the other side. 
Seungkwan can pretend it’s an innocent suggestion but he stares you down until you crack with your own curiosity. “Who told you that?”
“Some pledges said they accidentally hit on his girlfriend. I don't even think he knows another girl beside you. Plus you were at the party last night.”
Stupid fuckers, you mutter under your breath. “We’re not dating.”
“But you guys are always together.”
“We work together. You and Vernon are always together, are you two fucking?”
“My room is next to his and it doesn’t sound like work to me.”
“How does me failing you sound?” you spit. 
Seungkwan doesn't so much as flinch at the threat but returns to the practice sheet with a smile nonetheless. 
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Typically, fall break is spent hidden away in a pile of blankets with you and Wonwoo alternating movie choices throughout the weekend. Dead Poets Society (him), When Harry Met Sally (you), Over the Garden Wall (him), Fantastic Mr Fox (you), and so on and so on.
This year, you have a strong feeling Dr. Wagner’s favorite pastime is seeing her TAs squirm. It’s the only explanation for the unique brand of humiliation she subjects you and Wonwoo to. Tonight, Friday and technically your first night off for the long weekend, she decides to engage in a new sort of torture. A fancy dinner that neither of you could ever hope to afford, and even as her treat, you still eye the menu prices nervously. 
But Dr. Collins sits across the table, in the flesh, so you pull out the skills you learned in the ridiculous theater class you took freshman year to “diversify” your transcript and smile through the anxiety. 
Wonwoo does a little better; in a button up you’ve only seen him wear a handful of times when his usual wardrobe is sweatshirts and free shirts from campus events, he looks more comfortable than you feel.
“Jill, tells me you both work on Epitranscriptomic mapping in her lab?” Dr. Collins asks after another sip of his drink. Two whiskeys at dinner. 
It’s not an official interview. Not anything close to it, according to your advisor. Nothing is set in stone, even if Dr. Collins laughs at Wonwoo’s awkward jokes and nods enthusiastically to your stories about working in the library (he also worked in the library in undergrad, but used it to nap more than actually work). But it feels like a step in the right direction. 
“Yes, sir.” Wonwoo and you nod in tandem.
Dr. Wagner’s research focuses on how different RNA modifications vary across various cell types and states. It’s high level stuff that no one but Wonwoo understands when you rant about the broken Cellraft machine. And his complaints about NovaSec’s constant crashes that leave him without work fall on deaf ears except when they’re directed at you. 
Half the reason you two started speaking during orientation is because the overly enthusiastic intern asked what people were looking forward to the most during school. You and Wonwoo were the only ones who seemed to think she meant school-related and not where to buy a fake ID. Apparently, the best person to get a fake ID from was a junior in Dr. Wagner’s lab that year. Go figure.
“I’ve seen you two listed down the line as co-authors,” he nods. 
The waiter brings dessert, spiced toffee cakes and ice cream. You’re starving but the knot in your stomach from when you sat down is even tighter and all you can do is pick at the plate.
“Well, Y/N does a lot of the troubleshooting for the RNA degradation issues,” Wonwoo shares. 
Your face heats at the unexpected but not undeserved compliment. Dr. Wagner’s work isn’t cheap and the thought of wasting valuable money, money that could line the pocket of an extra set of hands, forced you to run a tight ship. The other researchers in her lab could say what they wanted behind your back but Dr. Wagner nods with fondness and you try not to preen.
“We’d be a mess if it wasn’t for her,” Dr. Wagner agrees. “The lab techs should write her a card.”
Not wanting to leave him out, you shoot a look to your left where Wonwoo pulls at the napkin in his lap. “Wonwoo is the one that made sure the parameters made sense for the last publication.”
“Also true.” Dr. Wagner smiles. “I told you, Harry, they’re my best students. Excel a mile past my TAs last year. They work together exceptionally well. If I could keep them both for next year, I would.” She says it with finality. There might very well be an opportunity to stay here and continue in her lab, even if your ambition has outgrown the place you’ve called home for four years.
The table is cleared, your plate full of mashed cake and melted ice cream with not a single bite missing. You’re exhausted. Mentally, emotionally; physically from the three all nighters you’ve pulled this week. There’d be an earful from Wonwoo about the dangers of sleep deprivation (hypocrite) but he looks like he’s seen a ghost tonight and won’t sleep himself.
Dr. Collins glances at his watch with a muffled yawn, “My, my! Look at the time! My apologies I didn't mean to keep us all out so late. I know you two probably have far more interesting things to be doing than spending the evening with a couple old timers like us.” He winks at Dr. Wagner, who rolls her eyes and hands the check back to the waiter who can’t be more than nineteen. “It looks like I’ll have some tough decisions to make in the upcoming weeks. Best of luck to the both of you.”
Hands shakes all around, and an awkward shuffle at the door and Dr. Collins and Dr. Wagner disappear into the night, leaving you and Wonwoo alone on the long walk back to campus.
You don’t beeline to your apartment for a debrief. Or even to ignore the obvious awkwardness cracking between. A bench to the side of the campus green is where you find yourselves, across from the fountain that upholds the tradition of drunken seniors taking a dip during finals when they’ve given up. 
You want to drown in it.
“Wonwoo,” you whisper. “What happens if one of us doesn't get in?”
“I–I don’t know.” He peers down at you with what you think is grief and the white noise that follows his quiet admission chokes painfully. There’s no plan B for something like this
If you got in, then Wonwoo did too. An unfounded assumption that wherever you went he’d be there too, based on almost four years of something between you. Too much to be friendship but too scared to call it something else. Something more. All the stereotypical college firsts had been with him or witnessed by him, you assumed grad school would be the same.
But it can’t be.
“Then we should end this.”
The words are out like shaken champagne, a dramatic explosion you can’t take back; a mess in the slimmest inches of space between your bodies on the bench in the freezing air.
“What?” he says.
You can’t swallow back down the idea. Wonwoo won’t let you. Maybe you don’t want to. You stare at the fountain across the green with a twitch in your jaw. 
“One of us is gonna move to Boston and the other is gonna have to figure it out and I’d rather not hate you or you hate me when it happens.”
You won’t take it back but you won’t look at him either. 
“You think I’d hate you?” 
He’s staring at you. You can feel the burn of his gaze on your cheek where embarrassment heats as well.
“I would.” You ignore the break in your voice at the complete lie. “I’d hate it if you got in and I didn’t. Even though you deserve it and I couldn’t be mad about it. I’d hate it. All I’ve wanted since freshman year is to go there, and I won’t ruin it for you just because I can’t have it.”
For a painstaking moment, he doesn’t say anything. His shoulders are still rigid and he props his weight into his knees, head bowed so you can’t even see his face in the stark street light. He doesn’t do anything until you do, until you slump with utter defeat.
“Fine.”
“Fine?” Your voice pinches in your throat.
“What else is there? You’ve already decided for the both of us. That stupid fucking program matters more to you than—”
You heat close to explosion.“It’s not stu—”
Wonwoo rushes off the bench. “It is! It is because we’ve been dating for the past three years but you won’t even fucking admit it! You’ll tell some stupid pledge I’m your boyfriend but everytime I think we’ve worked it out – that you’re finally ready to talk about it – you pretend nothing is happening.”
“That wasn’t—” you shake your head.
“It’s fine. I’ll get over it.” 
You move quicker than he does and find his hand, but he doesn’t want to stay and you can’t stop him from leaving. “Wonwoo.” 
“Stop.” His voice is stoic, whatever emotions previously controlling him locked up tight behind faux dismissal. “Just…stop.” 
If you’re going to lie then the smallest favor you can do is obey his command. You hide your face in your hands, cheeks hot and eyes stinging. Because if you look at him then you’ll break into a million pieces. You’d admit to lying to his face; that you could so much as entertain the idea of hating him.
Wonwoo waits but you say nothing. No argument, no final comment. 
When you finally look up he’s far enough down the sidewalk that the pathetic croak of his name is unheard.
Endpoint: a critical moment in a chemical process where a specific change indicates that the reaction is complete. 
Two days later, when you finally get the balls to call Wonwoo and apologize, to tell him he’s right and that you’re an absolute idiot, he’s already blocked your number.
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In a game of passive aggressive pettiness, Wonwoo takes gold.
He won’t talk to you outside of class and lab hours. Even then, he refuses to look at you; talks straight around you. Any form of correspondence you receive has Dr. Wagner’s name attached and anything you send without it is loudly ignored. 
Other people notice too.
In study hours, the students notice, whisper to each other when Wonwoo snubs your attempt to discuss a batch of graded homework in favor of focusing his attention on a cowering freshman who looks like he might piss himself when Wonwoo calls him by name. All the others bury their heads in their textbooks in fear he’ll pick them next.
In Nano, when he shows up just in the nick of time to leave his self-assigned seat next to you empty, and instead sitting next to the door. You feel the eyes on you, hair standing on end at the back of your neck when Dr. Lim stutters through his intro with wide eyes at the scene.
Seungkwan shows up to tutoring significantly less interested in your love life. Or he pretends he isn’t. He doesn’t ask outright and there’s pity in his eyes, thick enough you want to burst into the tears you’ve waited to come for the past two weeks. Instead you feel hollow. 
Even Mr. Lee, the night guard at the library, eyes your solitary exit with something like concern. Even going so far as to call campus public safety to escort you the short walk home.
Your other friends try to take you out, get your mind off the tilt in your world axis. You go. Sit at bar tables and laugh when you're supposed to, make empty conversations with strangers but you don’t care. You want to go home and curl up in your own misery like a blanket and cry until your eyes swell shut and pass out from exhaustion. Eventually, they stop asking if you want to come and just leave ice cream and bottles of wine on your doormat as support.
Your grades don’t suffer, and that’s the only thing you can cling to right now.
In Dr. Wagner’s office, an impromptu meeting under the guise of setting final exam expectations and tinkering the schedule, Wonwoo continues the harsh coldness of silence; content to pretend you don’t even exist. 
You work through it easily enough. You and Wonwoo have the same finals so there's only two schedules (Dr. Wagner’s and your shared one) to coordinate for extra study hours. The entire ordeal takes ten minutes to complete the shared calendar, pack it full of final lab meetings and deadlines for grading.
And when it’s over, you move to rise but Dr. Wagner stops you short.
She looks sheepish which is an odd sight. Immediately, you go to the worst. You grit and swallow and sit back down in the same upholstered chair from the last time she dropped a bomb in your lap. 
This is the bandaid rip you’ve waited for all semester. Whatever is at the end of this meeting means you finally know if you’re good enough or not. If karma does justice and gives Wonwoo the spot in Dr. Collins lab next year because you committed the sin of wanting it too much, sacrificed too much.
“It seems my attempt at friendly competition had some…unintended consequences.”
Where sizzling anger would once flourish and bloom, nothing but empty exhaust stutters to life. “What?”
“Last year, the second my TAs found out I’d recommended them, they slacked off. Missing class, incorrect results in the lab. Now I know you two are hard workers but I was afraid senioritis might set in and I’d have to lay down the law. I don’t like being harsh with my students, not directly anyway. I want the best out of them, and I knew I could anticipate the best from you two. I was always planning to recommend both of you to Dr. Collins. I told him he would regret it if he even thought about not making space for you both next year.”
“What?” you repeat again.
There’s a weight on your knee. You don’t even need to look to know it’s Wonwoo’s hand. He doesn’t look before flipping it over when you place yours on top, fingers knotting together; holds it tight like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. You unconsciously squeeze and he mimics without thought.
“So what does this mean?”
“Dr. Collins can’t outright say it but he’s on the admissions board and decides who gets to join his lab. He was adamant that both of you join him in Boston.”
“But we haven’t even—”
“I know, but the application is a formality at this point.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Your work speaks for itself.”
Wonwoo is still there, clenching your hand for dear life. Waiting for the other shoe to drop because there is no way – no way – it’s this easy. Months at each other's throat from the tension and for nothing. You’re sweaty, heart thumping loud enough it might break from your chest and skitter on Dr. Wagner’s desk. She keeps talking and you still haven’t looked at Wonwoo.
“I’m so proud of you both!” she beams. “And I’m sorry if I’ve…complicated things…for the two of you. It was never my intention. Now, go! Rest! Take the day off and celebrate. Send me the links to your applications and I’ll do my part so you can finally relax before finals.”
The pair of you shuffle outside like zombies. In broad daylight, the world keeps spinning and someone drops their coffee a little further down the street and curses a storm; a car honks at a biker, there's packs of students shuffling around where you stand dumbfounded. Your sweater does little to block the chill of late November wind.
Wonwoo still hasn’t let go of your hand.
“Did that just happen?” he asks.
“What the fuck.”
“What the fuck.”
Your laughing, deranged and fatigued cackles that earn several looks but on the cusps of finals it’s not uncommon enough to stop anyone out of concern. “What the fuck!”
You’re not sure what to do. Celebrate? Cry? 
It’s a little bit of both as Wonwoo swoops in, wrapping his arms around you tight enough to squeeze a surprised scream from your lungs. He’s not done, lifting and spinning you around in a quick circle before crying, “What the fuck!”
You laugh, snorting ugly cackles as he almost drops you with both of you gasping for breath. Completely deranged but what just happened that the rift between you momentarily heals.
Wonwoo sets you down gently but keeps close, his hands your waist like he’s afraid to let go. Like he’s missed you just as much as you’ve missed him. You finally look at him, and it’s the first breath of air after drowning for hours. The creases around his eye, the happy wrinkles around his nose. His hair is long enough it brushes your skin where your foreheads almost touch. His hold is like a cocoon of warmth.
“I’m sorry!” you blurt. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m stupid and stubborn and I’ve been so caught up in this program that I—”
“No,” he shakes his head, arms tightening as you squirm in his hold.
“Let me finish.”
“No,” he says. “I like that you're stubborn and a pain in the ass. And it wasn’t fair that I expected you to just push aside something like grad school for me. I was being selfish and—”
“I love you.”
You might say it again just to see the way he chokes and turns purple; pulls you closer. He’s at a loss for words and you capitalize on the moment.
“I’ve thought about what would happen if I didn’t get in, like a million different possibilities and never once were you not there. I felt like…I don’t know, honestly. Like I was losing you and it was easier to be upset about the program than admit that. It was stupid and I’m stupid, and I’m really bad at speeches so…feel free to shut me up or whatever.”
You wait for him to process what you’ve said – a million emotions swiping across his face. Ridiculous some people act like he’s the embodiment of stoicism because if you know what to look for then they’d realize he’s terrible at hiding the way he feels.
“You love me?”
All that crying you did in the past few weeks means nothing because you could cry right now. But you don’t look away, you don’t ever want to look away from him again because you’d miss the way his face softens.
“Well, we’ve been dating for the past three years. It’s about time I told you.”
Wonwoo doesn’t speak, facing morphing into confusion before he scoffs with disbelief. “You’re so annoying.”
“Hey!” you stomp but Wonwoo pulls you closer, buries his face in your neck and squeezes so tight something feels on the verge of popping in your spine. His ears burn red as he whispers those three words back quietly enough you strain to hear them. He bites your shoulder just to be an asshole.
“What the hell was that for?” 
He does it again.
“Stop biting me you freak, we’re in public.” You pinch his side for good measure and only then does he smash the side of his face to yours and begin walking you backwards, in the direction of your apartment.
“Whatever, you love me.”
He lets you walk normally at the cross walk, your hand in his, both tangled in the warmth of the pocket of his sweatshirt because it’s fucking cold and the wind isn’t helping. Wonwoo drags you straight home, up the stairs, and crowds you against the door and kisses you until you can’t breathe.
“Why are you crying?”
You are. You don’t even realize it had started until you reach up and feel the dampness on your cheeks.
“Probably because I haven’t slept in two days and I missed you, idiot.” Wonwoo kisses you flat on the mouth again at the confession, smiling big enough it’s less of a kiss and more of teeth pressed together. But it’s good. You like it. You speak into his mouth, “I promise I would have really ‘sloppy I love you sex’ but I’m so tired I think I might throw up.”
“You missed me.” he hums, more of a statement than a question.
“Yeah, big head, I missed you. Now let’s sleep.”
“God,” he moans, biting his lip in mock pleasure. Maybe even real pleasure at the idea of a Friday afternoon full of nothing but hazy dreams in silence rarely found in a frat house. “I love you too.”
You undress straight down to your underwear. Cotton with a conservative cut because in no universe did you think you’d end the day with Wonwoo back in your orbit. Wonwoo who loves you, Wonwoo who you love back. But he eyes you like you’re a grand prize and all he wants is to touch you. But the rush of adrenaline keeping you conscious is burning out quickly.
He strips too, nothing but boxers and circles under his eyes but he’s happy. It radiates off him in waves and if you weren’t part of it, you’d throw something at him because it’d be annoying. You might just be glowing too.
You slip under the covers and Wonwoo snuggles up behind you, a second skin with his hand flat to your stomach to keep you from going anywhere. Not that you would. You don’t even remember falling asleep. 
When you wake up, it’s dark outside; which could mean it’s been minutes or hours since the winter sun likes to deep beneath the horizon early in the afternoon. It’s the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.
Everything is warm; your body beneath the comforter, where sweat sticks at your back, the lips dragging across the curve of your neck, Wonwoo’s crotch firm between your legs.
“Good morning to me,” you sigh.
He hums in happy agreement, tongue traces the shell of your ear before kissing across your cheek and chin and finally landing on your mouth with a kiss that can only be described as sappy.
“Got started without me?” Your hands press under his underwear, two palms full of his ass holding him still enough to grind up into. Something about a sleepy make out has you hungry to lay there and take whatever he’ll offer.
“I’ll catch you up, don’t worry.” 
You snicker, “No wonder those freshmen have crushes on you.”
“What do you mean?” He traces your naked sides with his fingers.
“I’ll catch you up,” you mock, then wince from a razor of his teeth as he shifts down your chest. “If you were my TA, I’d try to fuck you.”
“I’m trying to have’ sloppy I love you sex’ and you’re trying to goad me into some student teacher shit?”
He bites your side, just a nip but you flare and blush anyway. “Ooooo, tell me I’m bad.”
“You’re annoying.”
“You love me.”
“As I was saying,” he whispers into your stomach, fingers tugging your panties off. “Sloppy I love you sex.”
“Okay, okay.” You sink a hand in his hair only for him to tug it away, fingers laced together over your sternum as he strokes you to life. “O-oh, that’s—fuck.”
He hikes a leg up over his shoulder, out of the way for the fingers that satisfy the empty squeeze in your gut. Your tongue prickles with another goad but Wonwoo senses it first and swiftly works to silence you with a hot kiss to your clit that makes your vision bleed red.
The cold of the room works in his favor, pinching your nipples tight until you cave to the need to touch yourself. If the light was on then he’d watch and you get the urge to pause the action just for the chance to watch him watch you.
“Don’t stop,” you grunt. 
He eats it filthy, spit and arousal forming a wet mess slipping down your ass. The way his tongue lashes is nothing short of despicable and you know you’re the one that taught him that and you can’t help but flare with pride. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m—” you chant blindly.
The warmth between your legs surrounds, suffocates until your thighs go numb and your shoulders pull away from the mattress with a groan rivaling porn; but you mean it. Wonwoo means it too. 
You clench harder, revitalized in the stretch of another finger and a clip of teeth on your clit.  You tug at your still clasped hands on your chest, bite into the meat of his palm and let the flood consume you with stiff legs and tears in your eyes. “Oh, Wonwoo – u-ugh. Fuck. Fuck.”
Wonwoo takes it, mouth waiting for every eager roll of your hips; completely unphased until you melt back in the sheets with a pathetic mewl.
He kisses up your body, mouth and cheeks wet and warm. When he reaches your mouth you resist the urge to lick him clean. Something about that feels decidedly unlike sloppy I love you sex. So you slip your tongue between his lips instead and spread your legs until his crotch is level with the raw sensitivity of your own.
“Roll over,” you pant.
Like an asshole, he laughs. And then he drops his weight behind his hips and you actually see stars. “Wanna do it like this.”
“Make love to me,” you croon.
He doesn’t even pretend to stifle the obnoxious snort. “Don’t ever say that again.”
“What happened to sloppy I love you sex?” 
“Getting to it. You like it when I come inside you?” Now he’s the one goading and you’re blushing like you’ve never fucked him before. To be fair, you haven’t fucked him as the man you’re in love with so it’s a first time for the both of you. Wonwoo’s drunk on the power of having you stutter through something so familiar yet new.
“Love it.” 
“Good,” he agrees with a saccharine peck to your nose that makes you feel like a doe eyed virgin again. “I love you.”
Your need for games and pretense dissolves. You just want Wonwoo, all of him, until you can’t take it any more. 
Wonwoo senses the change, noses against your cheek before kissing you. He’s still holding your hand, the other cupping your jaw, thumb tracing the curve of flesh. It’s vulnerable and soft and something you probably could’ve experienced years ago if you weren’t willfully blind.
“I love you, too.”
You whisper the confession so quietly it doesn’t even make a sound but Wonwoo figures it out because he surges into action, pulling you to the center of the mattress in all your naked glory. The flood light from the side of the building reflects back in through the slats in the blinds and Wonwoo sits up to soak in what he can see in the limited light.
Twisting a hand in his hair, you pull him down for a kiss; forcing all the emotions you have to the surface. He doesn’t make you wait. Instead, he drops flat, flat together from head to toe as he slips inside. You’re still tight and sensitive, squirming at the feeling of being stretched so thin with Wonwoo wrapped tight in your arms.
“W-wonwoo,” you mewl. You know he loves the sound of his name, any time, in desperate moans and sleepy coos. You’ll say it as much as he wants to hear if he kisses you like he is now – with something new at the edge. Something needy. “More.”
He wraps your legs around his hips, folding you clean in half with a heavy rut into your pussy you’ll feel for days. You both want to drag this out – take hours to come apart and come together again and again – but Wonwoo is already working a hand between your bodies; stroking you over hot coals just to hear you moan his name again.
In record speed, you feel that familiar burn creeping along your spine. He fucks you into a wet mess and it’s all you can do to hold on and claw up his back. Breaks you into something limp and pliant, hands twisted together over head; tugs at that loose thread over and over until you unravel beneath him and Wonwoo watches like it’s magic.
“Oh- oh, Wonwoo–” you cry. Actually cry. Tears he swipes away with a thumb before pressing his mouth to yours.
You’re swollen and stiff, muscles taunt while they twitch from a rush of complete bliss.
“M cumming, baby – oh my god.” Wonwoo bucks into the tight squeeze of your legs, deeper, harder, more. “Love you—fuck.”
He hides with soft sighs in your neck, skin sticky where you both slide together. You cradle him to your chest, fingers rushing through the sweaty tangles on his hair gently. A kiss to his head, his brow, his nose that wrinkles from pure content.
But you’re not done yet.
You wiggle from beneath him, peeling yourself off the pillows, lower half still numb from one hell of an orgasm. But you want more, insatiable and doped on years of repressed fondness. “Can you go again?” 
Wonwoo looks like you asked him to run a marathon. “You want me to die?”
“Worse ways to go,” you coo, sinking low enough to take his cock in your mouth. It tastes like you and him and it makes your eyes roll.
“God. I didn’t know sappy sex meant you’d try to kill me,” he moans airly under your ministrations, a hand at the back of your head when you show off with a nose to his crotch before sliding off. “You’re evil.”
“I’m in love with a sexy nerd and I'm horny,” you sigh dreamily, thrilled with the way he pulses in your hold.
“Yeah, well…” he gives up on whatever rebuttal under the weight of your body on top of his. Nothing he can argue with in that statement anyway so you tease him with a kiss, smile when he chases your mouth, roll when you realize he can taste the mix of you both off your tongue.
“You know…I’ll need a roommate in Boston.”
“Huh,” Wonwoo feigns. His focus is on the way your tug at his cock, spit and cum webbed between your fingers. This isn’t the best way to have this conversation but you’re both high on sleep deprivation, love, and orgasms and it encourages loose lips.
“Know anyone interested?”
He shudders back into the pillow, leaving his neck open for your teeth with a choked, “Yeah.”
“Who?”
“Me.” 
“Yeah?”
“Yeah —fuck—wanna wake up to you every morning.”
“Even if I’m a cranky bitch?” Your knees bracket his hips, cunt split on his cock as you grind against the underside.
His stomach caves as he responds with a thin voice, “yeah.”
You like waking up to him too. Falling asleep with him tangled in your body, listening to him hum in the shower when he thinks you aren’t listening. Sometimes he even sings with a little encouragement like those times you were sick and the only thing that got your mind from exploding like thunderclaps was the lullabies from his childhood that he cooed into your hairline.
Starting and ending everyday with Wonwoo sounds nothing short of blissful.
“Okay.” You tangle his fingers with your own, rising on your knees to distract from the sheepish smile splitting your face in two.
“Really?”
“I like having you around,” you admit, sinking down on his cock. “Makes me feel better.”
Weird conversation over the back track of slapping skin and pathetic muffled sobs but you like it. Feels well overdue.
“A-about?”
Everything.
He gives a tender squeeze to your thigh, cradles your face in both hands, eye contact that you fight not shutter away from because it’s terrifying he can see you clearly. 
He’s lost; completely mesmerized by the way you bounce on the length of him, grind back into his lap like you’re possessed.
“Can’t last—” he chokes.
“S’okay,” you press the words into his cheek, his jaw, the bones jutting from around his collar. “Just wanna feel you.”
You bend and strain for his pleasure, to watch it dance across his brow as he cums inside you again, his hands heavy on your ass, your thighs, whatever he reflexively grips in a bid for grounding, nails leaving streaks of color. Twitching and jerking in sensitive painful bliss, his eyes roll back with a quick exhale. “Fuck-k.”
You're sticky and used between the legs but you take comfort in the feeling and bask in the glow on top of him. Nothing but a pile of satisfied boneless goo where you lay with sweaty skin and heat you feel from the top of your head to your toes. “Good?”
“Great,” he hums, pulling into one last toe numbing kiss. 
When feeling returns to your bodies, you spend the rest of the night eating greasy pizza on the couch in nothing but his shirt, drinking wine straight from the bottle in celebration. You kiss Wonwoo whenever you want, which, admittedly, is a lot; a flurry of sappy pecks over his face leaves him blushing and dewy. When you fall asleep after making love once again, the last thing you hear is him saying he loves you too.
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Epilogue
4 months later…
There’s a certain level of comfort that comes with receiving an official acceptance email. The words you’ve been waiting to hear since Dr. Wagner all but confirmed your future in a fifteen minute meeting last semester.
On behalf of the Chemistry department, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as a part of…
The big envelope in the mail today helped too.
Wonwoo sends a photo of his, unopened, because you promised to open them together tonight. On your date; which is nothing more than grading assignments and eating leftover take out on the couch like so many nights have been spent already. But this time he’s your boyfriend. And after all the worksheets are graded, and you get to cuddle deep into the worn couch cushions, you get to tell him you love him and he’ll say it back and the flutter in your veins at the thought is nothing short of magical. 
And this time you have a surprise waiting for him and he might just cry. Or you hope so. You’ve got $50 riding on the possibility.
You’re sweating through your shirt from putting the new piece of furniture together for the past three hours by the time he shows up with a bag of takeout, Thai food from the place on Market where they know you by order, and a kiss you’ve been missing since the morning when he left for one of his stupid workouts. 
Wonwoo sets the bag on the counter, immediately pulling you into his arms before sagging like a deflated balloon. “Pixel got adopted today.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He’s moping. He accepts your placating kiss with a pout, and starts unpacking the food.
You feel the smallest flutter of guilt but it's worth it.  “That sucks.” 
“She needed a good home.” Wonwoo confirms and that's the end of the conversation.
Even in your final semester, your schedules are still packed. Crammed full with meetings, exams, work, Wonwoo’s volleyball stuff that you attend with posters and sit near the other girlfriends. It’s weird but not because its the same stuff you two were doing for years. But it’s exhausting.
So you don’t blame Wonwoo for not noticing the newest addition to your apartment until he’s inhaled his food and the last third of yours.
“Babe.”
“What?” you ask, focusing on cutting another red slash into the white paper.
“What’s that?”
He points at the gigantic cat tower in the corner next to the couch. It’s cramped in tight but in two months you’ll both be in Boston with a bigger apartment with real bedrooms so it’s only temporary.
You shrug and make another mark. “Oh, just something I picked up.”
“You don’t have a cat.”
“Huh. Weird.” Your eyebrows furrow in mock confusion but you keep grading papers or else it’s game over and the need to watch him puzzle together your plans is all you want. “Then what’s the thing in the bathroom?”
“You didn’t.”
“I did,” you confirm.
Wonwoo stares open mouthed, between you and the bathroom door and back to you. He might pinch himself but he flies off the couch with childlike eagerness and your face hurts from smiling already.
Pixel spends the rest of the night curled up asleep on her new dad’s lap and you’re $50 richer. Mingyu’s girlfriend is already offering to catsit despite Mingyu’s pouts about losing money.
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Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie
@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire
@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi
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@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy
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daddyfordaeddy · 8 months ago
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Pairing: werewolf! Yunho x f! yn (you can imagine yn as any species, she's kept ambiguous)
Word Count: 1910
Warnings: cursing, smut warnings under cut
Genre: Fluff, smut, supernatural au, werewolf au, E for explicit
Summary: On the week of the solstice, Yunho's rut starts.
Written for @cultofdionysusnet’s winter solstice event <3 took me a bit to get it down lol, and a big thank you to @sanjoongie for beta'ing hehehehehe <3 love u bae
Smut Warnings: unprotected sex (DONT DO THIS unless you discuss safely outside of sex!), praise, degredation, cum play, breast play, lactation kink (guys ignore the science behind it), knotting, breeding kink, overstimulation, subspace (i think it falls under it), creampie, multiple rounds, pet names
I've never written a werewolf au before so i hope its good <3
-
You perk up at the sound of the door opening, hearing the tell-tale signs of your boyfriend jingling his house keys as he hangs up his coat. “Yunho, you’re home early,” you call out, finishing up washing your lunch plates and wiping your hands. “Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong, my love,” Yunho responds, his voice liting. You know the sound well—his pre-rut is starting and you’re sure he’s hard in his pants. “I just got sent home because I started my pre-rut early. Must be the solstice.”
Bingo. The week of the winter solstice is when the werewolves’ inner selves are their strongest, and schedules are thrown off every year. You’ve been quite excited for this year’s solstice rut—the last two Yunho wasn’t comfortable enough sharing that side with you and after long discussions, it will be the first time you spend it with him.
You take a deep breath in before coming around the corner to properly greet your boyfriend, unwilling to make him feel pressured by your eagerness. “Do you want something to eat?” you ask as you wrap your arms around him and tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek. “I can make you the beef we have in the freezer.”
Yunho shakes his head, letting it drop to your shoulder. He takes a deep breath in, enjoying the scent of your body wash. “No, not right now,” he sighs through his nose. “I need a moment. You– you smell good.”
You open your mouth to say something but your breath catches in your throat as you feel his growing hardness against your hip. You knew his dick was big, but…it feels…bigger. Subconsciously, you squeeze your thighs together.
“YN.”
Yunho’s voice breaks you out of your fantasies. “Ah– yes?”
“Are you ready?” His voice is strained and you cock your head, confused. His eyes are dark and he licks his lips, neck veins popping as he holds himself back. “Coming home didn’t help with my pre-rut. You smell too good. Too fertile. I need you and I need you to tell me yes or no now before I lose control.”
“Fertile?” Your eyes widen more and you only vaguely remember a conversation held a while ago when Yunho warned you that in his solstice-rut, his wild instincts take over more so than usual and he will be saying and doing some out-of-pocket things. And somehow, it only serves to make heat sear in your core.
“Answer me, YN.” Yunho’s voice dips and your arms tighten around his waist.
“Yes.”
-
Teeth sink into your neck and your hands scrabble to grip at Yunho’s back, scratching down the skin. You’re sure there will be marks when the morning comes, not that it would bother him at all.
“Shit– Yunho–” you moan, back arching as your boyfriend drives his thick, throbbing cock deep inside you. “Fuck–”
You can hardly get a word out without Yunho rearranging your guts with every thrust. You should’ve known this was bound to happen, with the winter’s solstice landing on a full moon, and in turn, the werewolf’s rut landing on the week of the solstice. Not that you’re complaining about how perfectly Yunho nails each thrust into you.
“Look at you, lying there so perfect for me,” Yunho groans into your neck where he has been littering bite marks all over your skin. You’re sure if anyone who didn’t know the both of you saw it, they’d be worried for your safety. But the deep purple marks only serve to make you proud of your boyfriend. “Letting me use your sloppy pussy to my heart's desire like the whore you are.”
Not a thought exists in your brain as Yunho bites down on the junction between your neck and shoulder, where the old scarring from his mating bite sits. You’re pretty sure you’re melting into the sheets as he grabs your waist and moves you up and down on his twitching member like a ragdoll.
Come spills out of you so easily but Yunho doesn’t stop, just fucking it back into you and letting it foam up around the base of his cock where his knot is slowly growing.
You can’t even count how many orgasms you’ve had at this point, every time you think you can’t, Yunho somehow manages to drag one after another out of your body. The only thing you can feel is Yunho’s cock pounding into you at an unforgiving pace, stretching you out so deliciously.
Your boyfriend has come a couple of times too, your thighs and pussy lips coated in the sticky white substance, but he still hasn’t popped his knot and you know this isn’t going to end until he does. With a groan, you try to shift up, but the bite he has on your skin increases and his hands grip your hips even tighter. “Ah–” you moan, sinking back onto the pillow. You can feel pleasure roll in your stomach and your cunt clench, and you know you’re on the brink of your nth orgasm of the night.
“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” Yunho whines in your ear, his thrusts erratic and you can feel the base of his cock swelling. “You’re going to look so pretty carrying my pups, all round and perfect for me. God, I’d fuck you over and over just for you to carry my babies. My little cumdump.”
You moan, his words pushing you over to your next orgasm and you throw your head back in a silent scream. You swear your vision goes white and you can hardly hear anything as your hips and cunt convulse. Through your high, you can vaguely feel Yunho still snapping his hips into you as he moans against your neck.
And just as you come down, you feel him push his thick knot inside you, stretching out your walls even further. As soon as it pops in, you can feel him shudder and his dick twitch as searing come fills you up so full. “Shit–” you groan, grinding down subconsciously at the feeling. “Your knot is so big inside of me, baby.”
Yunho groans, thrusting as much as he can, the slightest bit of cum leaking out around his hard cock. Your thighs are burning but you can hardly feel it, just another addition to the pleasure slowly building once again. You’re not quite sure how much more you can take, but you don’t mind finding out.
Before you can think too much more, Yunho’s mouth travels down until he reaches your chest, taking one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking gently on it. “Oh–” you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut at the sparks it sends straight to your core. The way he flicks his tongue around the bud makes you shiver and your hands come up to grasp at the soft strands of his hair.
“These tits are so perfect, God,” Yunho groans around the mound of flesh. “Taste so perfect for me. Look at you baby, I’m affecting you so much in my rut you’re making milk, huh.”
Your eyes widen and they trail down your body to see the milky liquid trickling out of your nipples. “Yun–”
“Hush and let me taste you some more,” Yunho groans, dipping his head to capture your breast in his mouth again.
His voice is deeper than the ocean, rough around the edges, and it sends vibrations through your body. The grip he has on your hips tightens even further and you’re sure you’ll have bruises blooming in no time. Without warning, he bites down on your sensitive nipples and you squeal, fingers pulling at his hair as your cunt grips down on his cock. Without mercy, his fingers immediately come up to play with your unattended nipple, rolling the bud between the digits. You can feel milk streaming out of it and you moan.
“Yunho, please,” you don’t know what you’re begging for, and Yunho chuckles.
“So needy for me again, slut,” he hums around your breast, sharp teeth scraping the skin gently.
You open your mouth to complain, but before any words can come out, you feel a great pressure on your pussy and with a pop Yunho pulls his knot out. “Fuck!” His hips have been slowly grinding into you, knot deflating bit by bit, but it was still big enough to sting when he pulled it out carelessly. But the pain is what you absolutely adore and your mouth drops open as he leaves the tip of his cock in your hole.
It’s still pumping come into you slowly, but with how loose you are after that fucking, you can feel his come pouring out of you. You try to squeeze your legs together to stop the flow and keep the full feeling, but your legs are too jelly to even curl your toes. Yunho just chuckles, bringing the hand down that was playing with your breast to lazily press his come back into you, as well as the milk clinging to his fingers.
“God, you don’t understand how much I want to taste you right now,” Yunho growls, his cock twitching again. “But keeping you nice and full and stuffed is my top priority. Fill you with my pups and keep your tits full.”
Before you can say or do anything again, he slowly pushes his dick back in your wet heat, his knot popping back inside you with ease. Your body is hardly able to react, soft moans and whines spilling out of your mouth.
As Yunho smirks down at you, he scoops up the leftover come on your walls and brings his fingers to his mouth, licking off the sticky remains. “Fuck, you taste just how I dreamed of,” he sighs, eyes fluttering shut as he flashes his sharp canines. “Really should keep you warm and pregnant for me—you’re so impossible, YN. I don’t know how the fuck you do this to me.”
You don’t think he even knows what he’s saying, too drunk on the winter solstice’s power to fully comprehend what he’s saying. You can’t get pregnant from him right now anyways, the birth control you use specifically for multi-species relationships. Plus, his come doesn’t have the right potency until the full moon and there’s no way in hell you’re letting that monstrous cock near you (although you dream about it).
Your thoughts are cast away as Yunho’s hands come up to fondle your breasts again, causing more milk to leak out and he immediately dips his head down to suck at your peaked nipples. “Yunho,” you breathe out, no energy to call out his name even louder, “please.”
The ache of your body is finally hitting you and you’re limp on the stained sheets. The haze in Yunho’s eyes clear up a little and he shifts, keeping his cock in you but slowing his grinding. “You’re so sweet for me, YN, letting me use you like this. You can sleep if you want, I need the knot to go down anyway.” His large hands leave your breasts to brush strands of hair away from your sweaty face. “I’ll wake you up for dinner,” he hums, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.
Exhaustion takes over your body and you feel your eyes flutter shut as Yunho continues to stroke your hair. “I love you, puppy,” you mumble, halfway to sleep already.
“I love you too, my moon.”
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thewertsearch · 6 months ago
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ERIDAN: for all that trainin you did ERIDAN: i wwouldnt be the incredible holy wwizard i am noww wwithout your help […] KANAYA: I Hope You Use Your Magnificent Powers Of Light And Hope For Goodness And Purity And Lets Not Forget Science
At this point. Kanaya is Human Sarcasming better than most actual humans.
ERIDAN: dont wworry im all ovver that shit you dont evven knoww KANAYA: Uh Oh I Hope That Didnt Come Off As Too Sarcastic […] KANAYA: Please Dont Take Too Much Offense ERIDAN: haha damn kan if thats your idea of offense bein made then i honestly gotta fuckin wworry for you ERIDAN: tell you wwhat ill givve you some lessons in dealin out the dark umbrage to repay you for your tutelage in the wwhite science
I think Dave taught Kanaya more about the art of trolling in a single conversation than Eridan could in an entire lifetime.
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That guy can troll better than most actual trolls.
ERIDAN: wwhats that thing there KANAYA: The Matriorb KANAYA: I Was About To Go Hatch It In The Core To Restore Our Race ERIDAN: that sounds ERIDAN: hopeful […] ERIDAN: if theres goin to be any sort a hope for our race as the prince of hope i demand to be invvolvved ERIDAN: so dont go anywwhere wwithout me got it […] KANAYA: Fine
I’m all for the construction of neo-Alternia, but I really don't think Eridan should be on the planning committee, unless we also want a neo-hemospectrum.
Honestly, the only trolls I'd really trust to rebuild their society are the bottom half of the hemospectrum, and possibly Gamzee. The other highbloods can go sit in the corner.
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ERIDAN: its not magic wwe talked about this kar KARKAT: RIGHT, IT'S POWERED BY SCIENCE, I FORGOT. KARKAT: OR HOPE. WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT MEANS
I don’t see how Hope translates to a robot-exploding beam, though.
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If it was wizards he was blowing up, I’d understand, because it would be consistent with my theory that he's weaponizing his hatred of FRAUDULENT MAGIC. If anything, his Science Wand should strengthen a robot, since it's a product of the TRUEST SCIENCES.
ERIDAN: i had a harder time than anybody wwith this game ERIDAN: it wwas really fuckin unfair wwhat challenges i got saddled wwith ERIDAN: i wwoulda fuckin MURDERED for a land full of a lot a harmless brains and fire ERIDAN: but no ERIDAN: it wwas so lonely ERIDAN: hey guys anybody wwant to come hang out wwith me in the land a wwrath and angels
That sounds cool, though. Angels, I assume, are how Hope is represented in his Land, and I’m sure Eridan synergized well with its wrath. I wonder what physical form it took?
ERIDAN: anybody at all i knoww it isnt anythin like one of your flippin land picnics ERIDAN: anybody please ill evven settle for the kittycat shipper cavve girl
You can't complain about loneliness and then insult your ‘friend’ in the same breath. That's not how any of this works, and the fact that you're unaware of this should tell you everything you need to know about why you're lonely.
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So Karkat does know about Nepeta’s little crush. He is a relationship aficionado, after all.
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Poor Nepeta.
I sort of figured Karkat didn't reciprocate her feelings. He's preoccupied with plenty of other redrom prospects, and he basically never mentions her.
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Karkat’s honestly a little too nice to Eridan. He’s being such a bro here, but what Eridan actually needs is to be brought down to size a little.
Granted, I think Eridan needs a bigger shock to the system than an angry tirade from Karkat. I feel like Terezi could tear him to pieces - but since it's unfair to expect her to put up with him alone, I'd put both the Scourge Sisters on this assignment. >:)
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What Karkat is aptly demonstrating here is that there’s a difference between an Eridan kind of asshole and a Karkat kind of asshole.
Let's be real, here - Karkat's a dick. But he's a dick who holds no true malice, knows when he's crossed a line, and is willing to sincerely apologize for his past actions, and make amends.
Eridan possesses none of these qualities, which is why he sat alone in his house for a month while Karkat befriended the entire cast.
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pvnks0ul · 5 months ago
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worth the wait (18+)
❀ nerdy!riri w. x nerdy!fem!reader
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sypnosis: with you turning her away every time she tried to make a move, Riri eventually remembers that she is, infact, stronger than you
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⚠︎: cw/amateur writing, fingering(clit stim only), barely any plot, dirty talk!
(Not the one inspired by scotty)
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Ri–!“ You find yourself having to remove her lingering fingers away from slipping into the edge of your leggings for the umpteenth time.
She groans throwing her head back in disapproval about to throw a tantrum for the umpteenth.
“Gonna break your pencils & take all the tiles off that keyboard.” She plops herself down onto your little twin mattress.
Your laughter taunts her as she clenches her legs in want, she just needed your attention and can only feel disruptive when you don’t even spare her a single glance.
She groans again, “Dont know why you're even working on that stupid shit when all your other partners bailed..”
Your eyes roll, you take a deep breath remembering that she's obviously only trying to rile you up for a response because you've explained many times that just because you were paired with people of a less fortunate intelligence doesn't mean your grades have to suffer...plus they paid! So it was a win win.
"Y/n, baby, I didn't come over here to stare at your back. Just talk to me and I'll help you with everything in the morning!"
“Really? You can wait, it's not gonna take too much longer! I’m closing it up literally right now.” You smile while tapping away at the aforementioned keyboard.
Riri grumbles something most improper under her breath, "You told me that last time and now the sun is going down."
She eyes the side of your face because she knows you can feel her stare. She pauses,"Gimme kiss."
"What?"
"Just give me a kiss."
"Riana.." You tilt your head, backspacing on a minor spelling error you'd made. Even just her voice was a bug distraction.
"I promise I wont try nothing." she pleads and hopes you won't turn around for the time she crossed her fingers behind her back.
You turned away from the screen at her complaining with a sigh before standing on wobbly legs, “So just one kiss and you’ll leave me to go back to my program in peace?”
Riri nods, trying hard not to burst into a smile but with all the straining she does it only makes her little dimples pop more.
You roll your eyes before falling suit, Riri lifts herself to meet your lips. When you try to pull back she holds the side of your face with every intention to deepen the kiss. She bites down on your bottom lip before swiping over the skin with her tongue and your knees buckle. Riri mewls while pulling on your arm purposely making you stumble and fall ontop of her.
Her hands are quick to grip your hips, pressing you further between her legs, you didn't try too hard but you struggled to break free. Riri slips her tongue into your mouth, you moan when she starts licking over your own and still you don't break away but then something cold slithers inside, feeling too much like mischief that you finally have to pull away from the messy kiss.
You'd be a liar to say the game of cat & mouse you tried to play didnt already have you turned on but you did have an actual project to work on and all her touching was not helping.
You lift up as much as you could, trying to hold her arms down by continuously pressing on her wrists, after wiping her spit from your bottom lip with the long sleeve of your sweater, "Wait, listen! Riri, I really have to—"
She doesn't want to listen, her index and middle pressing between the slit of your folds, you freeze up as she strokes your sticky arousal with the pads of her fingers, swiping at your throbbing little bud, "Shit– you keep telling me to wait but you're already so wet.."
Riris mouth waters at the thought of how’d it’d taste on her bare tongue, having her face enclosed between your thighs, letting you rut against her and messy up her nose, chin– have her glasses foggy from how hot she was making you.
Your bottom lip falls under your teeth and suddenly you’re no longer running from her ; instead grinding down onto her palm.
And Riri's so lost, possibly lust drunk, just muttering pleads for you to let her help as if she wasn't already strumming her fingers on your pussy and making a bigger mess in her own pants, like you weren't already whining and wrinkling her tee with closed fists as she rubbed your clit in tight circles, your head spinning with each one.
"Fu-Anngh! Fuck, okay, fine, yea whatever you want Ri!" Just crying out & blabbering more nonsense, finally giving into her greedy fingers and you could feel yourself literally unclenching (mentally) from the migraine that was the stupid report you’d been working on nearly all week long.
Your eyes are glued shut, watering under the pressure of her constant pleads, "please, cum on me baby..." she whispered against your earlobe, pressing her chapped lips there over and over.
She can feel your nipples pebbling against her chest and gets even more worked up, eyes swirling something dark with lust and wrist burning from the awkward angle but she didn't want to stop, not until she had you sensitive & sore & thanking her for how good she is to you.
Laboured moans breach your lips as you swayed back and forth on her fingers, "Ffuuuck, feels so good Riri!"
Riri groans as you humped her hand, she stares you dead in the face, your expression and the sounds you were making telling very different pictures. "Y'sound so pretty.." she speaks with a raspier tone in reference to the sloshing of your clit against her wet digits.
Your lower half collapses into her, and riri can feel your pelvic bone from how deep she was rubbing into your cunt but you loved it. All it took was her thumb bumping over the small bead steadily to have you panting and whimpering, buzzing in pure bliss as she kneaded you through it with her thumb, "Mm fuck! Give it to me, baby." you gasp as she greedily inserts her two fingers pass your sticky flower to collect whatever cum hadn't yet spilled out.
You curl your back into her, face nuzzling into her neck bashfully as she happily sucked your juices clean off her fingers ending with a sigh when it’s all gone. You giggle and kiss the base of her neck, right over her clavicle, your head feeling dizzy even as you rested up against her.
“t–tricked me.”
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🔖: @blushyrawrz @ririshotgf @lppriceisright @s0lam33y
a/n: happy pride month yall..not too happy though, another month without riri and riri only on my screen 😔
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lululandd · 1 year ago
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problem;
pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader
word count: 712
warnings: self-doubt, anxiety, insecurity, eventual fluff
note: i really dont wanna paint könig, im mad procrastinating
summary: the unspoken ‘with me’  hangs in the air.
 “You packed.”
His curt tone made you flinch as you gingerly put groceries in the fridge. You tried as best you could to not look his way, hoping Simon would let the matter go. You had broken your leg and fractured your wrist in the most uncool way possible, slipping on ice. He had warned you beforehand, knowing how frail normal human bodies could be. Unlike his apparently, sometimes you wonder if he sees himself as indestructible just because he’s 6 '3.
His hand came to view and you froze, shoulders curling into yourself as you tried to subtly move away from him. Sensing your tense demeanour, he slowed his motions and gently grabbed the fruit from your hand, put it inside the fridge himself, and leaned on the counter. Not daring to look him in the face, you decided to try and continue packing your groceries. 
Sighing, he dragged your chair away from the fridge and closed it.
“You’re going to your parents?” his voice was barely above a whisper, but it scared you so bad he might have as well have shouted. “What’s wrong with staying here?”
You were on the verge of tears, not knowing why. Simon’s always busy with work, he barely comes home, and the one time he had a three month long break from it you stupidly slipped on some ice. He has to take care of you, instead of having fun and going somewhere or doing whatever he wants on his time off.
Stupid.
Useless.
“I just didn’t want to bother you with broken leg and hand stuff. My parents' place is closer to the doctor’s office and the physical therapy place anyway.”
He visibly tensed and you know you fucked up. 
“Physical therapy is after you’re fully healed.” he remarked, you saw a flicker of indignation in his eyes, “Are you planning to stay there the whole time I’m here? Every time I go to work you complain that I’m never home and the one time I come home for longer than a week you do this.”
You stared at him wide-eyed, a muted gasp twists your face. “It was an accident, Simon! You say that like I fell on purpose or something!” You say in a raised voice, appalled at his words.
He presses both palms on his eyes, “No, that’s not what I meant at all.” He squatted next to you–you never knew men that big could do that–and placed a large hand on your thigh. “By ‘this’ I meant going to your parents. I will be here for three months, and you want to stay with your parents for however long it will be. What’s wrong with being here?”
The unspoken ‘with me’  hangs in the air.
“Oh.” A wave of embarrassment flowed through your veins, you had thought of the worst of him when all he wanted was to spend time with you. With uninjured you, preferably. “Sorry.”
“You’re still not answering any of my questions, love.”
Weighing your words, you realised you can’t weasel your way out of telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. 
“I don’t want to bother you, Simon.”
“Bother?” He breathes.
A shiver of apprehension travelled up your spine at the way he spoke. You’ve heard that tone before, but never directed towards you; it was always towards people bothering you two. Does that mean he sees you as a bother right now?
“You don’t have a lot of time off, and I don’t want you to waste it… here.. taking care of me while I can’t do jack shit. You have to carry me up and down the stairs, you have to carry me to and from the car when we go outside,” you gestured with your good hand, “you have to go with me to the doctors and my physical therapy, you have to do most of the cooking and cleaning, and you have to sit down and listen to me bitch about this broken leg from 1am to 4am.”
He stood up and cupped the back of your neck, his thumb slowly drawing soothing circles as he kissed the top of your head.
“You’re listing things I already want to do, with or without your broken leg.”
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chunniwritesalot · 3 months ago
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home - nh27
HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! welcome to my 3rd haas related fanfic 😍😍 i think i should be named the nh27 queen by the amount of ff i'm writing about him (not that im complaining... i want to eat this guy...) if you dont follow me, or check my rambles (go follow me PLEASE... im a desperate gal) you wouldn't know that im going to vacation so i wanted to write something super quick before i left. when i get back- TRUST an smau WILL be made, probably for nico because this man is so beautiful 🤗😋 the writing on this is super rushed but i've been out of practice (uni is starting soon PLEASE SEND HELP) because i major in english and BRO i write so many essays that when i get to break i just stop writing all together. my creative writing is SAUR shit because all i write are analysis's and shit like that BUTTTTT im taking a lot of creative writing courses this year (2) so watch out because i might become Shakespeare cw: sad, cursing, you have a son but your gender isn't included, mentions of crashing (obviously, its about the monaco grand prix), mentions of hate, banner is mine but photos aren't, use of yn, bad writing style
other: y/s/n means your son's name! I DIDN'T EDIT THIS SHIT SORRY FOR GRAMMAR OR SPELLING MISTAKES. MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN IM BEGGING YOU REQUEST wc: 682
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you didn't watch f1 races because of your love for the sport. in reality, you hated the sport. the loudness, the chaos, the danger. you thought that maybe nico would've finally listened to you, he would retire and you two could finally live... peacefully, that you could live your life not fearing the fact that the love of your life could quite literally die almost every week. you watched those stupid fucking races because nico was your husband, and you would never forgive yourself if you weren't watching and something unspeakable happened. so nico promised you that he would always come home to you, and he would never break that promise.
sometimes you wished you never got involved in this stupid sport, because then maybe you wouldn't find yourself sitting in the haas garage with your 3 year old being restrained in your grip as you watch the screen. everything going in slow motion as the two haas cars and the redbull collide in with eachother. was it bad to say you hoped most of the damage went to kevin or checo? you didn't care, f1 made everyone a bad person. you were sure louise, who was glued right next to you, thought the same thing- that most of the damage went to nico or checo. "shit" you muttered, your son looking up at you. he was too young to know what was happening, but you could tell he was worried.
"its okay love, just an accident." you whispered to him, he wriggled out of your grip to go run around the garage. not that you cared, right now, you were focused on nico and lord, were you fucking mad. mad that he broke his promise to you, mad that he never listened, mad at this fucking sport. you hated nico for this, hated that he sacrificed his entire life to this sport, when he knew that he had a 3-year-old son. when he knew you were waiting for him, and you would never forgive him if he didn't come back. you sat there, arms crossed as nico made his way back to the haas area after getting checked with the medics. you watched as he approached you, a flash of guilt on his face. louise seemed to get the message because she quickly got up from the seat next to you and made her way over to the children as she waited for her own husband. "y/n, i'm sorry." nico cracked out quietly, reaching out his hand to take yours. he grimaced when you snapped your hand away and stiffened at his words. "what if you died?" you spat out, "god nico, i-" tears burned in your eyes, "i hate you." nico watched as you stormed to the bathroom, not bothering to follow you. he knew you needed time to cool off. after a while, you came back, sitting next to your husband again. "even y/s/n was fucking worried." you whispered to him, "nico, you-." nico stayed silent, his gaze never tearing from the TV infront of them, he nodded slowly. "i was thinking about you the entire time." he started, "and i'm *sorry*, i'm so fucking sorry." he slowly turned to you, "i-i would never forgive myself if something happened to me, love. i-" he stopped, reaching out to wipe your tears, "i'm... i know you hate this sport, but- its my..." you shook your head, motioning for him to stop. sure, you hated this sport, but you didn't hate nico. you loved nico, and loving him meant you would always be there with him. even if that meant you had to watch all his stupid grands prix. because as much as you knew nico loved his sport, he loved you more, and nico promised he would always come home to you and y/s/n.
"i..i don't hate you" you said back gently, "i'm sorry." nico cracked a smile, "i know, my love. don't be sorry." he reached out again, and this time? you didn't pull away, because nico kept his promise. he was always going to come home to you.
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thesupreme316 · 11 months ago
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Heyyyyy I just came up with this but headcanons with the boys if their so is in college and has a bunch of missing work how and how they would deal with it (not like this is related to me rn totally DONT have have 20+ missing assignments that r do Thursday😮‍💨) if not that’s fine I just needing something to do so I felt like I was being productive cuz I don’t feel like doing work in my week off. Thought I’d submit ideas for writers so I’d be doing smt!
AEW STARS React to: Their S/O In College (and Taking Finals)
Pairings: Nick Wayne x Reader, Darius Martin x Reader, Hook x Reader, Dante Martin x Reader, Christian Cage x Reader, MJF x Reader, Eddie Kingston x Reader, Wheeler Yuta x Reader
Word Count: 1.2K
Supreme Speaks: hey yall, finals kicked my butt, but we back and packed up in here! to this lovely anon, i hope you got everything done and passed with flying colors (ik i struggled). but anyways, please remember that you are loved and appreciated, and also that you are more than a gpa.
Warnings: none i think, grammarly wasn't working so barely proofread, no gifs as tumblr don't wanna work rn
Taglist: @hooks-martin @sheinthatfandom @triscillal @cassie0sstuff @eddie-kingstons-wifey @hookerforhook @batzy-watzy @wwenhlimagines
i totally forgot to add my beautiful besties my bad
Nick Wayne
Hahaha He is the last person you should be going to for help
If anything, Nick believes that you should just leave it alone and just be in candy land with him
But he knows how hard it is for you and how important it is
So he’ll try his best to help you actually do the assignments
Like you two split up how much work you have and he does half the assignment
I think he would find it fun; pulling all nighters in the library and doing work with their S/O until like 4 am
Every night would be a new adventure
Would let you review the work before you submit it
But anything science-related
Don’t ask him shit
I see him as more of a math person
Darius Martin
I see Darius definitely as a liberal arts or literature person
Like he can edit your papers (he’s your personal chat gpt)
I think Darius would help you by creating a schedule
Like when you need to get stuff done by
BUT
He takes it a step further by allocating time limits for each assignment
Like you can only work on assignment 1 for an hour and 30 minutes each day
Something tells me he is particular with schedules
Darius will keep you on track as if he’s getting paid for it
“Y/N, your break ended 3 minutes ago. LETS GO”
Will definitely help you with researching topics cause that takes a while
Don’t ask him shit about math
Dante Martin
Doesn’t particularly understand what you are going through
But nonetheless he hates that he doesn’t see you as much anymore
I can see him just giving you gifts and words of encouragement
Will tutor you if you need help…but realize that this is not high school science
“You mean there is more than Chemistry I? CHEMISTRY VI? ORGANIC-“
He soon gives up
Stays up with you and drags you away from work if needed
IMAGINE DANTE SAYING “COME TO BED BABY” OMG MY HEART
Will help you with assignments like Nick
Will reward you for all your hard work (wink wink)
Tries to distract you and give you moments for fun/relaxation
After the dust is settled, he’s just happy that you are out of the shackles of academia and you two can hang out stress-free
Hook
MANS IS NOT BOTHERED WITH YOUR BULLSHIT
Has the constant “I told you to start on these assignments earlier” look on his face
If anything he will just supply you with food, energy drinks, and emotional support
But if you thing this man will give you any type of physical help
YOU ARE LYIN TO YOURSELF SWEETHEART
Will secretly complain about your lack of self care or wishing he could actually help in Italian
Fancanon: Hook can speak Italian
If he thinks you have been working too much
He will save your work and shut your laptop down
Will make sure you did everything on your checklist before turning the assignments in
If you need him to print stuff off, just ask, he’ll do it
Unless it’s 1 am…then he’s telling you to take your ass to sleep
Wheeler Yuta
Okay, this man can actually help you
WITH HIS CUTE ASS GLASSES
He truly understands what you are going through as he used to be in your shoes
Mans will tutor you until you are smarter than him
Loves helping you with history and shit
“No the War of 1812 didn’t happen in 1937”
Gives you helpful study and test-taking tips
Tries to make you drink healthy caffeinated drinks not Monsters or Red Bulls
Believes they are the devil and will slap them out of your hands
“What did I say? Red Bull gives you horns, not wings…no not horns for being horny”
Will give you little trinkets or treat you out to dinner when you complete your assignments/exams
He just wants you to remain healthy during this stressful time
Christian Cage
I feel like if anything Christian is a professor…with the way he be schooling those-
He’s probably very knowledge in various subjects
He just does them the old-fashioned way
“What the hell is this?…Whatcha mean this is the new way?”
But if anything he’ll adapt to it, just trying to help you
I HAVE A THEORY that he’ll stay up reading the next chapter or the directions for your next assignment and tries to figure out ways to make the process easier
So the next day you walk out to the table and you see the parts of your project laid out and labeled
“I know it’s a lot but we break it up like this, you should be able to complete by tomorrow”
Christian takes pictures of you two so he can look back and bring up times like the Vietnam war
Makes you take breaks, in which he’ll work in your place
When you get your grade back, it’s yalls grade
not yours
MJF
Straight up pays for a tutor/homework helper
But stays in the room and yells at them cause you are still confused and behind
I mean this in the nicest way
Max is no damn help
He is laughing at you while he’s putting on his scarf
“Imagine doing homework to get a little paper for a job! That’s what you get for not being born rich”
Will post you on instagram and claim that homework and exams are to test idiots
But will quickly change his tune when you place a physics worksheet in front of him
“WHY IS THE GREEK ALPHABET HERE?”
Issues you a public apology and vows to never make fun of you again
If anything MJF supplies you with emotional support, letting you know that your feelings are valid
Will buy you new shoes or something massive for surviving and passing everything
Eddie Kingston
Now when I say don’t ask him anything
DON’T ASK HIM ANYTHING! HE’LL JUST SAY
“Doll, imma be real, I have a GED. I dunno shit”
He can only laugh from afar and say “glad I don’t have to do that shit”
But if you ask him anything about English or Shakespeare, he got you
Will recite random Shakespeare quotes to provide entertainment
I think he proofreads your papers to ensure they make sense
I do think he can help with researching and giving you credible websites
Other than that, his designated role is paper weight or waterboy
He believes your every word when you groan about school
That’s all he can do but you don’t complain about it
After he loves you and you love him
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puhpandas · 4 months ago
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Do you have any analysis or notes on how different both dr rabbit and Gregory’s personality is like? I can’t read the book of ggy but I’d like to know how different these two are just like Vanny and Vanessa.
OH DO I. u just opened a can of worms anon. pausing tower of hell for this
thisll all just be off the top of my head but I hope itll help anyway :)
from reading ggy and analyzing the shit out of dr rabbits behavior and doing the same with Gregorys SB personality along with ruin, there are immediately 2 key differences
dr rabbit is a character that puts on a front and a show for everything. hes portrayed as a genius who never does something without it being calculated and valuable for whatever hes trying to achieve
in GGYs case, one of Rabs goals was for some reason to play a part so tony and ellis would like him by playing into each of their interests. this was probably to appear more inconspicuous and seem less guilty since no teacher would pick out a kid from their class as someone to be worried about if he has good grades and has friends and seems plenty happy
he would joke around with ellis and play games with him and hang out with him, and with tony, he would say a couple deep sounding sentences to play into Tony's interest in the meanings of life and its mysteries and stuff. he did it just enough to the point where tony would notice it and prefer him over Ellis because of it but he also wouldnt pay him any mind when he wasn't actively doing that stuff
so basically rab always acts knowing exactly what he wants to come out of every interaction and it usually works. most of his personality is fronts he puts on for whatever goal hes trying to achieve
but with Gregory, none of his personality shown in sb/ruin is meant to put any sort of front or mask on. he doesnt even try to put on a brave face most of the time. he usually isn't that scared of things and can push through it, but he also has no problem expressing fear if he actually is scared of something (shown in the lines "its pretty dark in there" and "what was that??" in response to his watch beeping)
a lot of his interactions with people and just his outward personality are really genuine. that doesnt mean hes always nice or kind, but he just does or says what he actually feels. a lot of the time in sb he happens to be in a bad mood (for a. very good reason) and snappish towards anyone interacting with him. none of the 'quips' he says are meant to be funny, it's just him complaining and it happens to sound humorous just because of his personality
so that's immediately one line drawn between the two of them. tldr rab puts on fronts and nothing of what he does is genuine but everything Gregory does is genuine just in the way that it's true to himself his personality and what he is feeling in the moment
another thing is obviously their moral code. i dont rlly wanna focus much on this because its kinda obvious. rab will obviously do whatever it takes to stay in operation and was probably created to keep vanny in check, even if it includes murdering tons of people and glitchtrap abusing vanny through him. but Gregory holds a very specific moral code that I can boil down best to "I wont help anyone who doesnt deserve it, but if they do deserve it I'll truly try my best to save them, even if it means risking my life"
the way that Gregory decides which people are worth saving is pretty basic. people like vanny obviously don't deserve to be saved because shes evil and kills people. but vanessa was forced to be mind controlled by her and puppeted around to do it so Gregory believed she deserved to be saved
and the glamrocks werent because they were killer robots trying to rip him apart for seemingly no reason. gregory had no idea about any viruses or probably that they were sentient until Freddy became sentient but that was already by the end of the game. he decommissioned them with the knowledge that they were trying to hurt him, they're robots and can be fixed, and that they probably will by tomorrow because in a few hours the place will open
rab is also patient 46 so any little quirks in those tapes also apply to him. things like disliking flowers and liking the dark and liking to watch sports are all him, but theres no telling how much he could have picked up from Gregory by being created off of him
as for just like. dialogue things and how they talk, rab is a lot more literal and blunt with the things he talks about. gregory also says what he means and takes it literal, but he talks with "uh... like... I guess.... umm" things like that. rab doesn't stutter and he has a bigger vocabulary, while Gregory calls the security badge stations "badge head things" and stuff he doesnt know what to call "things"
rab is also very good at reading people and obviously a really good liar to the point where he can get anyone to believe what he wants. but Gregory is a very very shit liar LMAO. he literally just said "I'd rather not say" to Freddy about Monty and just told the truth but changed a little with the others
with vanessa and vanny they for sure changed Vanessa's personality in SB compared to the trailers so she turned from afraid and worried to snappish and annoyed. I honestly think that now vanessa is never vanessa at all during SB but shes always vanny, just in and out of costume. this way, Vanessa's like the opposite of vanny with how shes more timid from all the trauma and naturally afraid
so with Gregory and rab it could be the same but with different things. vanessa and Vannys personalities are black and white, but Gregory and rab dont talk or act very differently outwardly so it's more of a mental change
I've analyzed the crapp out of these 2 so I hope this helped a little bit =)
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orcelito · 4 months ago
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God I don't wanna go to therapy tomorrow. Sick of talking about my feelings in a clinical setting. I do enough psychoanalysis just by myself, and now I gotta sit through it with someone else??? Come on.
#speculation nation#i say as if i didnt submit myself to this and am not willingly paying for this to continue#idfk man ive always hated therapy. just kinda kept it going bcus i was so messed up about the whole grief shit#and i guess it's been maybe helpful. i dont know.#SHOULD i mention this tomorrow? i already know it's ass and entirely undeserved#if i did it'd mostly be another source to complain about it. theres really nothing anyone can say to make it better#bc it's bullshit and it already happened. and i already have the objective proof of yet another person losing interest in me.#... i dont know. i feel like it's inevitably going to come up. it's already taken up so much of my thoughts.#my every dream last night stemmed from it all. it was such a fitful night of sleep.#i can only pray that i dont dream about it tonight too. i want a fucking break from it all.#i hope she loses sleep from guilt. i hope she hurts every time she remembers what she did to me.#i hope she comes around tomorrow so she can see the face she kissed and she lied about loving#so she can remember im a person with feelings too. a person who opened up to her. a person who trusted her.#............ okay maybe i should talk about my blatantly vicious retaliatory remarks with my therapist.#i tried to reign it in but Bitch Mode definitely came out earlier today. when it was fresh. and i just wanted to make her Hurt.#i still want that honestly. i want her to truly regret doing this. to be filled with so much guilt for how she chose to do it.#i cant change her feelings. no matter how much i might want to. but i sure as hell can make her regret it.#i feel like im allowed a bit of petty bitchiness after this bullshit. but i also dont like the person i become like this.#anger issues. perhaps i should talk about my anger issues with my therapist.#easier than just rehashing the whole breakup. though i'll probably have to do that some too.#but better to have a goal for it. a direction to focus on. so that it's not just me complaining.#... it still wont be fun. and my ex mentioned coming round an hour after my therapy ends for dropping the shit off.#so Assuming she actually shows up (still not convinced she will after she flaked on me twice)#it's gonna be therapy and then seeing her right after. god it's gonna suck.#i'll try to do some homework maybe. and then maybe see if anyone wants to hang out later tomorrow.#my friends r the real ones. hanging out with me for 7 hours... they traded off between them but still#for 7 hours i was not alone. and that was very nice of them to do.#good things. positives! focusing on the positives. i am a healthy person with a healthy outlook on life. smiles.
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rat-cannibal · 8 months ago
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i have no idea if you write for adam, but here i am
i am the ultimate angst asker, if you're okay with that
adam or lute(ilovewomenbumpersticker) x reader who does in the extermination without them knowing.
- FEED ME A BONE,
carcass
aaaa thank you so much for the request!! i am a fellow lover of women, so I will do Lute at a later date. i wasnt too sure about what you meant by 'does in'. i did give you a sad ending though, so hopefully that makes up for it!
how would adam or lute react to the reader finding out about the exterminations? Part 1
- Adam -
you and adam started dating before he started the exterminations
you're an amazing person - kind, sweet, innocent, everything an angel should be. and also everything Adam isn't.
adam is already so insecure about anything that has to do with hell bc lucifer stole his wives (cue pussy eating hand gesture)
so he doesn't even mention it when he starts thinking about the exterminations
you're suspicious, obviously, because he's going off on so many meetings and is becoming more distant
but you dont say anything because you love adam, and he would never lie to you.. would he?
when adam finally gets his extermination team approved, he's overjoyed
he comes home and immediately kisses the shit out of you
You whine as he pulls away from you, your lips swollen and your face flushed. You try to catch your breath. "Not that I'm complaining, but, uh, what exactly was that about?"
Adam grins widely, squeezing your hands. "What, am I not allowed to kiss my beautiful partner hello?" You sense a hint of deceit in his voice, but choose not to question him about it.
you and adam always sleep in the same bed at nights. you have practically since you started dating.
so when one night he doesn't come home, alarm bells immediately go off in your head
is he cheating on you? maybe he found someone else, someone better
no, you reason, surely he's just held up at work
your suspicions only intensify when he returns the following morning, hair tousled and clothing ruffled
he looks exhausted, like he didn't get any sleep. usually this would indicate a long day at work, but theres a smile on his face that paperwork could never cause
dread grows in your stomach
he greets you happily, like nothing's wrong, and you play along, not wanting to fight with your boyfriend about something that could very well have been a misunderstanding
next year, though, when he disappears again and comes back looking thoroughly satisfied, your suspicions are confirmed.
adam is cheating on you.
you're a very conflict-averse person, so these yearly meetings go on for nearly two decades (time works different in heaven ok just roll with it. 1 year = a month to them basically)
eventually, though, you come home from a hard day of work and Adam isn't there.
that pushes you over the edge. you pack a bag and store it in the closet before going back to your room.
you would look for an apartment in the morning. for now, you just want to sleep.
you wake up and join adam in the kitchen for breakfast. he looks like he always does after these meetings - ruffled, yet satisfied.
"Adam," you say simply, "we need to talk."
"Uh-oh," teases Adam, "am I in trouble?"
"Where were you last night?"
Adam swallows thickly. "What?"
You glare at him. "Where were you last night?"
"I was busy with a work thing - you know how it is, babe, they work me to the bone. It's ridiculous."
"Why do you look so happy, then, so fulfilled?" You sigh. "Look, Adam, I know you're cheating on me. I've known for years now. I guess I just hoped you'd have the balls to admit it."
adam tries to frantically explain that he's not cheating on you, that he's been leading a yearly extermination
he would never cheat on you, he loves you
you demand to know what an extermination is, and he tells you in more detail than you ever would have wanted
you listen in silence as he describes the joy he gets from killing demons - from killing human souls
you retrieve your bag and leave your shared apartment for good
adam begs you to stay, says he'll change, that he'll do anything
but you can't be with a murderer
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keirawantstocry · 9 months ago
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hi tis i 💋anon. Im running out of ways to convey my love for your writing. Just kissing you is no longer enough, I need you to kill me- Youll still get kisses ofc but- AHHHH. anyways
So ive been having Thoughts about current tubbo. I think he needs to snap and be Covered in blood. Remember day 1 that he was back? where he Immediately threatened the Chocobos cause they were noisy, yeah just snaps and kills all of em. Then just, goes about his day after, not bothering to clean anythin. I feel fit would maybe have a moment of 'WHO DID HE KILL- oh okay', maybe quietly fawning after idk, camera cut to pac. jaw on the Floor, unable to get himself together, Bright Fuckin Red.
I Dont Know i just need more of Pac (and fit lets be honest) being obsessed with men that could(and would) kill them. I also just want Tubbo covered in blood. Thats also my agenda now.
Hope youre having a good day :> (srry that these Keep Gettin Longer)
darling I need you to know that I think ab this ask every day. kisses aren't enough, you need me to kill you?? that's the most romantic thing I've ever heard in my life. I get flustered everytime I read it. gah anyway enough about me you're here for the freaks (affectionate) also never apologize for how long they are i love it
Fit's first emotion when he spotted Tubbo was concern. The second was something deep in his gut that felt eerily similar to the feeling he got seeing Pac kill people in Purgatory. Which sort of made sense considering Tubbo was currently covered in blood. 
Tubbo met his eyes with a strangely empty look. “Hey Fit.” 
“Why are you covered in blood?” And why did his voice sound so strained when he asked?
Tubbo blinked at him slowly with eyes full of emotion that contradicted his emotionless face. “I got annoyed.” 
“At?” 
“Chocobos.” 
The deep feeling in his gut overtook the concern when he realized that Tubbo hadn't hurt an islander or child. “And you haven't cleaned the blood off why?” 
Tubbo's eyebrows dipped down. “I don't know.” 
Fit took a step forward and put his hand on the least bloody part of Tubbo's shoulder. “Why don't you come home with me and let me clean you off, yeah?” 
Tubbo nodded slowly. “Yeah okay.” 
-
Fit had forgotten one tiny detail. The tiny detail in question was standing in the doorway of Fit’s house with an open jaw and wide eyes. 
“Pac,” Tubbo said with a stupid grin before pushing past him into the house. Fit and Pac both watched as he walked straight over to the bathroom and slammed the door. 
Pac grinned with a stupid expression that Fit knew was the one he made at the men he liked. “Who did he kill? Did you watch? Do you think he’ll let me lick the blood off his face?” 
Fit choked on air. “Excuse me?” 
“C’mon,” Pac said in a whine. “He’s strong.” 
“Are you attracted to that?” Fit asked in half disbelief. 
“You’re saying you aren’t?” Pac asked. 
Fit froze. Took a long moment to consider it. It made a lot of sense. The way he couldn’t keep his eyes off him. The intensity of the feeling in his gut that seemed to grow with every second. “Holy shit.” 
Pac laughed wildly. “You spent all that time in the wasteland and you’re telling me you never got a boner for some guy covered in blood?”
Fit spluttered turning bright red but before he could respond, the door to the bathroom was swinging open again. 
There stood Tubbo, shirtless, holding a damp cloth in his hand. “I can’t reach my back, can one of you-” 
“I’ll get it!” Pac interrupted, rushing over to take the wash cloth from Tubbo’s hand. Fit followed them both into the bathroom silently. 
Fit sat at the edge of the bathtub as Tubbo lifted himself up onto the counter. Pac’s mind was clearly out of it considering the long looks he was not subtly giving the man. And the fact he was cleaning blood off his chest and not his back like he had originally asked. But nobody was complaining. 
Fit had to admit there was truth to Pac’s line of thinking. There was something about the mess of blood on Tubbo’s chest that made his mind dizzy and his heart race. So yes. Nobody was complaining. 
Pac motioned for Tubbo to stand back up and he did so with a sigh, standing in front of Fit so Pac had room to work. Fit watched as Pac ran the washcloth under cold water again before wiping it quickly down the blood covering Tubbo’s back. He averted his gaze from his chest up to his face to see the slight pursing of his lips and the hiss at the evident chill of the water. 
“Fuck dude couldn’t made it any colder?” he bitched. 
Fit slapped him lightly on the arm and didn’t think about how warm his skin was. “Leave him alone. He’s helping you.” 
“And why aren’t you? If I remember correctly you said you would help clean me up. I was fine with being bloody, you're the one who insisted on this.” 
Pac paused and peeked at him over Tubbo’s shoulder. “Really?” 
Fit swallowed feeling dizzy and nodded. “Well, yeah.” 
“Then do it.” Tubbo was reaching behind him and taking the wash cloth from Pac’s hands. Fit saw it all in slow motion but with sharp vision. The washcloth was cold. The washcloth was in his hand. Tubbo was looking at him expectantly. 
“There’s no blood left on your chest,” Fit said stupidly, feeling incredibly out of his depth all of a sudden. 
Tubbo shrugged before taking a step forward and turning to sit himself down on Fit’s lap. Fit didn’t even know it was possible for his body to freeze up more but it did. Pac met his eyes, nervous trepidation meeting awestruck joy. Waving him on with one hand, Pac leaned back against the counter to watch them carefully. 
Slowly, Fit took a deep and careful breath. He brought the washcloth up every so gently to rub at the blood staining the skin at the top of Tubbo’s spine. The man’s shoulders slipped down as he relaxed and let the silence fill the room. With his non-metal hand, Fit held the curve of Tubbo’s bicep to keep both of them steady as he scrubbed at a particularly stubborn smudge of blood. The skin under his hand was so warm it was hard to focus on cleaning the blood off. Pac’s eyes were boring into him and the strangely soft lighting in the bathroom made this moment feel much more intimate than was to be expected. 
Simultaneously it felt as if it stretched on forever and also was over way too soon. 
Fit dropped his hand, letting the bloody washcloth fall to the floor. “There,” he said gently. 
“Thank you,” Tubbo said in an even quieter voice before he stood. “I’ll get out of your hair now.” Before either of them could protest, he was pulling his shirt back on and leaving. 
They both stared after him, feeling as if part of them was now missing. Pac giggled suddenly and Fit’s eyes darted over to him. “What are you laughing about?” 
“That was the most-” Pac laughed again. “That was just crazy. You two are something else.” 
“Shut up,” Fit grumbled. 
Pac just laughed once more before standing up to give Fit a quick kiss. “I’m going to go see what Richas is up to, okay?” 
Fit nodded, trying to clear his head. “Yeah, okay, I’ll see you later Pac.” 
“See ya, querido.” 
Fit’s head spun as he stood up. He had a lot to fucking think about.
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rookflower · 4 months ago
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extended thoughts on ivypool's heart preview
honestly enjoying how messy ivypool is this book so far. she's a character i have mixed feelings on (i like her more than dislike her i'd say but i don't care that much and she frustrates me a lot) but the way she doesn't have her shit together through her grief is pretty interesting and touching and i hope it's as intentional as i'm reading it as. straight up telling her sister "well my daughter is deader than your son is so you wouldn't get it" is Fucking Horrible but also within the warriors universe where the presence of starclan is always a comfort that dilutes the impact of death then... yeah, that's an interesting and in-character way for her to be feeling about this!!
antpelt mention ! i like that they drew into that parallel and i hope they get more out of it.
i like how the little adventure group setting off is all characters who can bounce off of ivypool in some meaningful way and we're not bringing fucking crowfeather or something
concerned that the narrative throughline of this book is going to loop back into "the Clans are the most important things in life after all <3" because of how they specifically cited ivypool's apathy about her clan and ughhhh sighhhh yeah you sure do like crawling back to that shitty and questionable status quo you like to pretend isn't dogshit every time don't you warrior cats.
the cats thinking about Symbols and Human-Made Imagery and Art is funny
some of the dialogue is really weird but i think warrior cats dialogue is just really weird in general sometimes, especially when they're in exposition delivery mode, so whatever
fernsong is the king of the bare minimum and "tell don't show" when it comes to this parenting thing it's so funny. erins you CANNOT pat yourself on the back for this one you had ONE CHARACTER be a "more involved dad than usual" and you dont even SHOW IT you just awkwardly mention it.
i still really wanna find out what the mystery creatures are. i got it in my head that it's parrots for some reason even though that's a completely random pull that absolutely isn't happening in a million years. expecting a big cat or maybe something to do with midnight
i'm expecting this book to bring bristlefrost back from double death somehow but that's boring
i'm not expecting this book to kill off ivypool but if they do i wouldn't complain. i really hope they give her a decent send off if so though.
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