#im so stupid when it comes to chemistry

[kkyaka]

I'm so nervous for my orgo class 😢

[sincerelyaudri]

Dridri!!! Baby!! I’ve been missing you so much since our night out~~ looked so pretty then!! You’ve been doin okay yeah? Nothin concerning? I’ll kiss away each and every one of your worries, yeah?

— @kiryucutie

i’m…doing! i’m definitely doing! 🥹👍🏼

[highvern]

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.

“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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts

@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially

@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

@lukeys-giggle @aaa-sia @tinkerbell460

[norrizzandpia]

The Video (Part 2) (LN4)

Summary: They’ve taken leaked videos to a whole new level.

Warnings: its a sex tape so that, sexual conversations, language, explicit

Note: when i was trying to come up with a part 2 for the video i literally couldnt think of anything until i was half asleep and this came to me and i was like THATS IT 🤓☝🏻(part 1 is here)

TWITTER

mclarensgirly woke up today and saw “lando norris y/n y/l/n sex tape” trending and thought it was a joke so i clicked on it and GOOD GOD IT WAS NOT A JOKE

- ln4andop81 my jaw DROPPED when it surfaced

- mclarenfan22 anybody watch it??

- mclarensgirly yeah ofc who do you think i am

- ln4andop81 YES.

- f1fan2 you bet your ass i grabbed my popcorn and STUDIED that vid

- mclarensgirly i had an idea lando was dirty but BROOOOOOO

- ln4andop81 its even hotter that the camera isnt propped up somewhere its literally being filmed by lando as he goes in from the back

- f1fan2 I LITERALLY STILL CANT WRAP MY HEAD AROUND IT LIKE HIS VOICE WAS SO CLOSE TO THE MICROPHONE AND YOU COULD HEAR ALL HIS MOANS AND THE SHIT HE WAS SAYING TO HER

- mclarenfan22 “you like being fucked from behind baby?” I CEASED TO EXIST.

- ln4andop81 WHEN HE WENT FASTER AND SAID “fuck baby so tight” 😩😩😩

- f1fan2 the way he gripped her hips so he could go harder>>>>

- mclarenfan22 this video has literally altered my brain chemistry.

—

y/nnn yeah ofc we have sex… look at him.

Comments:

danielricciardo HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

- landonorris shut tf up

- y/nnn let him laugh its fine im getting good dick

- danielricciardo im no longer laughing.

mclarenfan22 SHES SO REAL OMFG

Landos-lover1 slut behavior

- y/nnn stalker behavior babes, youre not his lover, i am 💋

- mclarensgirly oh how i wish to be as unbothered as her

- f1fan2 SHUT. DOWN.

landonorris this was not the planned statement we talked abt 🥲

- y/nnn planned statement my ass we were having good sex let them wish they were us

- ln4andop81 she understands the lando girlies to a level that makes me believe she once was one of us too

- y/nnn OH HELL YEAH I WAS DONT GET IT TWISTED HE WAS MY CELEB CRUSH FOR YEARS BEFORE WE STARTED DATING

- ln4andop81 BRUHHHHHH YOU MANIFESTED IT I ENVY YOU

- y/nnn THANK YOU THANK YOU I DID MY BEST

- ln4andop81 YEAH AND NOW YOURE HAVING GREAT SEX AND RUBBING IT IN EVERYONES FACES

- y/nnn THAT TRULY WAS THE GOAL.

- landonorris what just happened

—

landonorris apparently the statement never mattered anyway so basically i love my girlfriend and that video was supposed to be kept between us but honestly now all yall bitches know im good in bed SO THE NICKNAME NORIZZ BETTER BE PUT. DOWN.

Comments:

carlossainz norizz will never die.

- danielricciardo norizz lives on.

- oscarpiastri norizz forevermore.

- landonorris i hate you

- y/nnn its ok baby they didnt see the tape so they dont understand

- landonorris well now they need to watch it to understand im sick AND TIRED of this

- oscarpiastri ARE YOU STUPID DID YOU JUST ASK ME TO WATCH YOUR SEX TAPE

- danielricciardo lando there is a target on your back.

- carlossainz im gonna pretend like i dont even know who you are

- y/nnn what an overwhelming no!

- landonorris 😒😒

oscarandlando4ever norizz the nickname was forgotten the first time around when the grinding vid surfaced

- f1fan2 yeah they went in for the overkill this time

mclarenfan34 yeah we def KNOW youre good in bed now dw

- mclarenfan22 “do you like it when i make your eyes roll back my love?” PROVED THAT.

- mclarensgirly “ill never get over the feeling of you fuck baby” 🤭🤭🤭

- f1fan2 *she moans his name* “yes y/n say my name baby let everyone know who makes you feel this good” I HAD TO TAKE A BREATHER

- mclarensgirly “good girl” and “youre taking me so well” HAD ME DRY HEAVING.

- ln4andop81 no but the best part of the entire vid was when she came and he moaned “yes baby ill never get tired of the feeling of you cumming around my dick like a good girl”

- y/nnn im a lucky girl ‼️

—

TWITTER

mclarensgirly one month since the sex tape leaked and we FINALLY get the info from lando on HOW it got leaked

- mclarensgirly in an interview with lissie he says, “it was actually my fault. There’s a, uh, folder, if you will, on my laptop that has videos and pictures of that category which we have accumulated in the years we’ve been together. Well, anyway, i was emailing with a fan about her transaction with quadrant merch. It’s a long story but her order had been so screwed up that i had to step in and see it out myself, but, nonetheless, i was trying to attach her old receipt and new receipt to the email, but, because it was 2 AM and I was exhausted, I didn’t realize I went into me and y/n’s folder, didn’t realize I clicked and attached that video. By the time I realized what I had done, the email had already been sent. The fan never emailed me back to get her merchandise, but the next morning we [y/n and him] woke up to it being plastered on all platforms.”

- mclarensgirly he later goes on to say, “No, we weren’t that mad. I mean, yes, we were mad the fan had leaked it, but we weren’t upset it was out there. You can see us make jokes about it on our social medias. We’ve made sex jokes before and we had that other video leak a few months back, so it isn’t a shocker or touchy subject with our fans that we have sex. Yeah, the video was a lot and I’m sure made people uncomfortable, I’m sorry for that, but, at the end of the day, it’s a natural, healthy part of a relationship and we didn’t feel the need to try and cover it up.”

- ln4andop81 YOURE FORGETTING MY FAVORITE QUOTE FROM THE ENTIRE INTERVIEW WHEN HE SAYS “we have great sex! We have a great sex life! And if people know that I’m more than capable of satisfying my girlfriend in bed, then so fucking be it. Neither of us are complaining.”

—

TWITTER

landonorris 2 videos leaked, nervous the others will too

- y/nnn put the GODDAMN folder on a flashdrive and give it to me PLZ. i will keep it safe

- landonorris only way ill do that is if you recreate both leaked vids with me

- y/nnn deal.

[ihave-atummyache]

3 way with ur roomie, hey roomie

ot8 blurb/imagine

stray kids

just my personal thoughts on the topic of ur skz!bf sharing u with another member (;

1.5 words

just hard thoughts i guess? idk im just horny and thinking

bang chan:

would share u with seungmin.

i feel like they would have very different approaches to how they are intimate, however, they both very much so give off brat tamer vibes in my opinion! i think seungmin would be more of a hard!dom brat tamer and chan would be more of a soft!dom brat tamer or even like more of an emotional brat tamer than a physical one. in the context that seungmin would spank you, smack you, spit on you, degrade you, chan would rather have you write that youre sorry 100 times on a piece of paper. im sorry its hot idk dont ask me!

i think their dynamic would work well together because they are so opposite but also so similar that it would be really easy to break you.

also they both would definitely love to see you cry. idk thats what theyre saying!!

lee know:

would share u with chan.

okay, hear me out. i know most people would think that he would share you with jisung but i so disagree!! minho is a possessive, jealous, mfer (hot). that being said, he is also basically joined at the hip with jisung and when you come around, its probably quite often the three of you together.

i dont think minho could stand the idea of you being around someone 24/7 that has seen you naked and felt every inch of you. hes sooo jealous.

but!! i think minchan would make for a great time tbh. theyre both so strong and yummy that it could get really rough, fast!! they're both very conscious of your body and how it is reacting to everything and they work in perfect tandem to make sure youre having a good time :p

you definitely cum so many times you can’t walk by the end of it all!

oh! and they both have greatttt stamina so i can just imagine you guys going at it for hours and hours.

most likely to have been made self indulgently, fueled by my own personal desires.

-on my knees for minchan.

changbin:

would share u with hyunjin.

changbin is so obsessed with hyunjin and its the cutest thing in the world. he thinks he can never be more obsessed with anyone but then, he meets you!

the idea of the two people he adores most in the world being intimate with him at the same time??? hot. hot hot hot. i also think that binnie is such a visual person. seeing you and hyunjin together is probably just pure art in his eyes.

i think that it would actually be super intimate. it would definitely not be something that happens often or casually. it probably happened one night on accident and it was a lot more intimate and intense than you all figured it would be.

changbin and hyunjin definitely kiss while they eiffel tower u. im sORRY!

hyunjin:

would share u with felix.

hyunjin loves felix so much. we all know this. i think that it would be very important that you and felix get along for hyunjin to make the relationship work.

honestly, it wouldnt surprise me if hyunjin were to make you two meet before you meet anyone else. he just values lix's opinion so much and its so cute. with that being said, i think that the idea of sharing you would kind of come naturally.

you and felix have GREAT chemistry and i think it would be hyunjin that suggests it. you three are probably sitting around the table or in the living room and he's just listening to you and felix talk and then he just speaks up with something stupid and hyunjin-like, for example: 'do you wanna have a threesome. like us three?' and obviously you and felix are quite surprised but after it being talked about, youre all down.

felix is probably a little softer in bed and i imagine hyunjin being the same way, except if he get particularly worked up. i imagine sex with hyunjin is usually pretty intimate and more like love-making. he is just such a romantic and values intimacy so much.

theres probably a lot of you receiving great head from the two boys and a LOT of kissing. and they have such nice lipshshshsjash

u definitely have a few bruises left as a reminder.

han:

would share u with minho.

okay okay okay so

im sensing the dynamic of minho actually not really participating and youre both kind of submissive BECAUSE voyeur minho>>>>

him telling jisung exactly how he should touch you or what he should say to you and then he gets all frustrated when jisung doesnt do it right and pushes him out the way and is like 'do it like this' and then showing him exactly how its done.

you're definitely being treated like an object more than a person and it's embarrassingly just that much hotter. i feel like jisung would follow every one of minho's commands without much thought. he trusts him whole heartedly even when it comes to you.

when you do actually have sex with both of them, it’s probably super rough. i feel like jisung would feed off minho’s energy and try to match it, yk?

felix:

would share you with changbin.

okay....hear me out! why do i lowk feel like you could dom changbin and felix so well.... and theyre so muscly and like masculine but you can get them both on their knees for you????? HOT

anyways, felix trust changbin a lot and he has said that changbin is his ideal type in men so... youre his ideal type, changbin is his ideal type, felix is in heaven.

a lot of praise from you has them both flustered and blushing and like putty in the palm of your hand. they could definitely dom you too tho!!! dont get me wrong.

manhandled, thrown up against a wall, rough, marked up, the works. they would probably hold you up at an insane angle so they can both fuck into you at the same time. some crazy karma sutra shit. i think they would be the first ones out of all these duos that would be found out. the way that changbin just suddenly gets a lot closer and touchier with you and the way the three of you would interact, it would be suspicious

most likely to end up in a poly relationship, methinks!

seungmin:

would share u with i.n.

THATS HIS BRO FR.

"seungmin, how do i make a girl cum with my fingers?"

"i can show u better than i can tell u"

and thats how you end up sprawled out on the bed getting edged over and over and over until you can barely feel your body!

"no angle your hand like this, there you go! you feel how this pretty pussy just clenched around you? thats good"

"you could probably make her squirt, she does all the time"

seungmin's words would be filthy. actually talking like youre just a sex doll that they can use for their own pleasure. i.n would probably often return and ask you and seungmin different questions and then youre all in the bedroom

he just happens to be more of a visual learner is all!

least likely to become poly, methinks! im under the impression that out of everyone, seungmin and jeongin would be the two that are most likely to keep things platonic. i think these would also be the most likely two members that have a friend with benefits and genuinely never catches feelings, yk?

okay and maybe it's just my own personal hand kink.... but they both have such fucking pretty hands like oh my goshdmsmshx put them down my throat pls!

i.n:

would share u with jisung.

tbh i think jeongin would be the most likely to share you with multiple members (maybe at the same time but uh anyways) but him and jisung just work.

jeongin is genuinely sooooo fond of jisung and you can just tell. he takes good care of jisung, even though he's younger and i think he trusts him a lot.

however, i think there could be a crazy dynamic here...

dom i.n x sub hannie x sub you?????

why is that kind of hot... and you all know im a big advocate for dom!han but i imagine him being a softer dom, at least a lot softer than jeongin. i.n and minho seem like they would be very similar in their dom ways.

i just cant imagine jeongin being a sub!!! like he IS an aquarius…lets not forget.

him and han’s dynamic is very silly and you can tell that they love each other dearly and feel very safe with one another. like they’re very much themselves around one another. i think thats why han would be able to sub to jeongin. and the irony of him being younger and he’s bossing him around… he would dig. jisung a freak!

han is a certified pussy addict. he eats coochie off the bone!! im imagining you sat back against i.n’s chest and jisung is between your legs just devouring and jeongin has his fingers practically gagging you omg i gtg N O

[kvrokasaa]

hi there!! you have wonderful work :) i was wondering if you could write for akaashi, kuroo, and atsumu with a girlfriend who finds out her friends are fake (talking crap, bullying her, etc.). i just wanna know what the boys would do about it. im sorry if this is too specific!

a/n: AHHH my first request!! Don't worry anon, this isn't too specific :), thank you hsjdhsjahdj

Fake Friends

Includes: Akaashi, Kuroo, Atsumu (separately) x Fem!reader

cw: cussing, bullying, spitting, hitting, hair pulling, slapping, implied slapping, corny chemistry joke.

Akaashi wasn't too concerned about friendships, relationships, or anything of the like. That's what he used to think, until he met you.

Before he met you, he would walk home alone, he would only hang out with his team when they celebrated a win. But now he has someone to walk with him, someone to hold when he needs the comfort. He has someone who he can rant to when he needs to.

Those few things are the reasons why he loves you so much. But he wonders if he's ever going overboard when ranting to you. He never hears your side of things, he never hears you complain about things. He wonders why. Maybe you're just not comfortable with sharing?

He finds out the reason after just a few days of worrying.

Akaashi came to pick you up from your class, ready to walk you to your next like usual. But he hears some noises, which isn't out of the ordinary. But he hears girls saying mean things, almost like they're patronizing someone.

And when Akaashi opens the door a little wider, not enough to be seen but enough to see what is going on, he sees you. You're at your seat, head down while your hair covers your face. Three girls surround you.

One points her finger at you, "what gives you the right to think you can blow us off?" She gives you a stern look. But this wasn't something a friend would say, no. She said it in a vial and cruel tone.

"You should know by now that you're nothing but a dog for us."

Another girl laughs at the statement, her hand covering her lips as she looks down at you. The third girl sits on the desk facing you.

"Answer me, you bitch!" The first girl grabs your hair, which makes you look up at her. Tears are flowing down your cheeks.

"Aww, she's crying. Fucking pathetic." The girl sitting on the desk starts laughing at seeing your tears. She puts her hand out, showing her rings to your face, "come on, mutt. You know what to do."

Just as you're about to lean forward to kiss her rings, Akaashi stalks towards the girls and slaps the girl's hand out of your face. He has an angry expression on his face, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips in a straight line.

"What gives you the right to treat my girlfriend like a dog?!"

Akaashi clenches his jaw. He's seen enough, no wonder why you were always so quick to do something for him. You're used to this kind of treatment.

You look to the side, eyes wide at the seen in front of you. "Keiji, it's not what you think!" Akaashi's head snaps over to you, are you really defending these girls? How long have you been accustomed to this kind of behavior?

But Akaashi doesn't respond, he only grabs your hand and leads you out to the hallway. "Those aren't your friends. Do you understand?"

You can only nod in response, your eyes brimming with tears, afraid that he's mad at you now. But Akaashi pulls you into his chest, hiding your face from anyone who passes.

"Don't let people like that control you, Y/n. You're too good for that."

Kuroo had a goofy smile on his face, ready to tell you another science joke. He knows you hate them, that you cringe every time you hear one. But you still smile at him, you still laugh at his stupid jokes.

He rounds the corner, about to make it down to your street, but he catches sight of five people on the sidewalk in front of him.

Two boys and two girls surround another person that is sitting on the ground. They all have a big smile on their faces as they yell at the fifth person. Kuroo isn't one for confrontation, when he sees something like this happening, he usually just threatens to call their parents or something of the like.

But as he walked closer, he realized that you're the one on the ground, a big, ugly handprint on your cheek. Your head is down, tears streaming down your face. Kuroo can't even imagine how you managed to fall to the ground.

All thoughts leave his mind when he sees one of the boys lean down and spit on your shirt. Kuroo's eyes widen, and he grits his teeth. Did that scumbag really just do that?!

"What makes you think you can be with Kuroo?" He hears one of the girl's voices shouting at you. She points her finger at you and sneers, "did you get with him because you knew I like him? Answer you ugly whore!"

Kuroo grows tired from hearing these words. He walks over to the scene, but not before hearing an insult from one of the boys.

"You're such a fucking pig. Always stealing guys, you'd really let anyone use you, huh." He laughs.

Kuroo starts walking faster, and once he gets to the scene, he grabs the guy's shirt, pulling him back and pushing him. The guy falls to the floor and looks up, he glares at Kuroo.

But before anyone can try to throw a punch or slap, Kuroo grabs your hand and takes off, running down the street.

Once you both get to a safe and secluded place, he immediately pulls you into a hug. Your tears start flowing down your face as you hug him back.

"Carbon and hydrogen went on a date. I heard they really bonded."

You pull back from the hug and playfully slap Kuroo's chest, "'s stupid." He smiles when he hears you laugh through the tears.

You never thought you would be dating Astumu Miya. You always thought his fangirls were a bit too much, and maybe they'd even threaten you.

But now you're having the time of your life because of him. Every worry ceases to exist when you're around him. He just has that effect on you.

But that doesn't mean his fangirls wouldn't try to hurt you in any way.

Over the time your relationship started, you gained new friends. You didn't recognize them as Astumu's fangirls, so your worries were unfound. Oh, how wrong you were.

One of his fangirls, Hana, managed to squeeze her way into your life. She was nice at first, gaining your trust, making you feel good around her. She was so nice that you considered her your best friend.

But once she gained your trust, she immediately turned against you. She would copy you, steal your clothes when she slept over, blame you for things that aren't your fault - she would do everything in her power to make you feel horrible.

Astumu didn't catch wind of this problem until a few months after it started. At first, he thought that you two were super close. He thought that someone was on your side.

But he knew he was mistaken when he started noticing the signs of her behavior changing. One of the main things he noticed was when you tried to talk, she would interrupt you and start talking about her day or other trivial things. She would take credit for your ideas. She even stole the necklace that he gifted you for your third mensiversary.

Astumu could only sit back and watch you let this happen. He knew that you didn't have many friends, so you didn't want to lose her.

But after a few more months, he knew that he had to put a stop to this. He knew when he saw you looking at yourself in the mirror after your 'friend' told you to lose some weight.

"Astumu would look better with someone who doesn't look like," she paused, "that."

While you were talking to Astumu in your bedroom, he comes over frequently, with your 'friend.' She interrupted you again as she stood up and smiled at him.

"Y/n, just stop talk-"

She was cut off by Astumu's glare, his jaw clenched, and his eyebrows furrowed. He looked pissed, and the girl had her eyes widened at his expression.

"When my girl speaks, you sit and fucking listen."

His tone was harsh, cruel, making the girl sit immediately.

But she couldn't listen to another word, she was scared out of her mind. She huffed and stormed out of your bedroom, grabbing her coat and shoes as she ran off.

protective men protective men protective men protective men!!!! HGSHGHASG

I love when men are protective of their woman!!!

[adhdduckie]

felix felices, or liquid luck f.w. x fem! reader.

my masterlist

irl mutuals dni (你没有看到我）

music choice; yo bro wtf

t.w.: swearing. (sorry i couldnt help myself)

word count: 3.5k

synopsis; strangers (hallway crushes) to lovers, with the help of felix felicis potion, or the liquid luck potion!!

here you go anon! hope you enjoy <3 sorry i took so long.

im so sunburnt help

(slightly inspired from my own events but let me tell you i died inside. i hate chemistry oh my lord, potions reminds me too much of it lol)

warnings; not proof read. 3 (?) mentions of y/n, a really stupid misunderstanding. reader is described with hair that can get blown into their face.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

everybody knew fred weasley. it was impossible not to, as they were hogwart's most well known pranksters since the era of the marauders.

of course, you did not happen to know him well enough yourself. you had a couple of lessons with him, such as; potions, herbology, and arithmetics.

His brother and he never really contributed anything to class discussion, only ever helpfully supplying mischief and jokes, and whatever they deemed interesting to themselves.

however, you noticed him wherever you went. It seemed as if it was almost impossible not to, he just happened to pop up randomly everywhere. In hogsmeade, in the hallways between classes, and in your dreams. (not in a weird way you weirdos).

Maybe the first time you ever really started thinking about him was when he appeared in your dream…you weren't too sure. But soon enough, you began thinking about him way too much, counting down the lessons till you could see him again in a next lesson.

you began searching for him in the hallways, the common room, the dining hall. even in places you know he would never be, but it just seems like you were always looking for him.

in lessons, everything he did, you were drawn to. you knew what he had, knew what he liked, and you spoke to him only every once in a while.

'this sucks.' you'd tell your friends. they'd laugh, telling you you should just talk to him more.

which isn't really helpful. you would think.

through some miracle ( or horror, you really couldn't decide.) you ended up sitting with fred in potions. Technically it wasn't a miracle, you had just been goofing off with your friends, being too loud for dear old snapey, you'd been moved next to him.

'oh god oh god oh god oh god' was the only thing going through your head as you packed up your desk to move next to him. your friend could barely hold in her laughter, having to slap her own hand over her mouth to muffle it.

'oh shit oh shit oh shit what have i done to deserve this oh my god' is what you were thinking as you walked towards the back, brushing past george as you walked towards fred.

You sat down at his desk, and he turned his face to you, giving you a soft smile. you pray internally that your face does not erupt into flames.

professor snape, once satisfied that you are suffering, turns back to the board, tapping his wand impatiently on the board.

"today," he drawls, "we will be attempting the felix felicis potion. failure to produce a functioning potion will result in a fourteen inch parchment describing every step you made and what you did wrong." he finishes, piercing his gaze into every one of his students.

you wince. fourteen inches for a mistake? seems costly. Potions has never been your strong point. (for the purpose of this, we're gonna pretend fred is excellent at potions.) You pray to the gods above that you don't mess this up for fred.

as snape sits down on his desk, working through marking some paper. as you get up to go get the ingredients as fred sets up the cauldron. you come back, setting down the ashwinder egg, squid bulb, murtlap growth, thyme occamy eggshell, and powdered common rue on the desk.

fred smiles again, thanking you for your help.

"so we have to set in the ashwinder egg first. you wanna do it?" fred asks, as you tie up your hair. he watches as you do so, and you nod, trying to fight off any embarrassment.

he steps back from the cauldron, letting you do so. your hands are shaking and you are doing everything in your power to stop it. in your haste, you knock over the murtlap growth, but before it falls, fred's hand flashes out, catching it in his hand.

"sorry!" you apologise frantically, and he laughs. It's the nicest laugh you've ever heard, deep and infectious, a laugh you'd be able to hear across the room and still recall years later.

"don't worry. i caught it." he says, setting it back on the table.

you smile, avoiding eye contact. you manage to finish the task, and with his help with mixing, the felix felicis is done. while he was mixing, you tried to pretend not to notice his hands. they're nice, to say the least. his hands are rough and calloused from years of being on the quidditch team, as a beater. he's got small white scars littered across his hands from years of experimenting with george over their joke shop products. you have to drag your eyes away.

The felix felicis potion is finished, and it's the most beautiful shade of gold you've ever seen. You would describe it akin to what you would imagine liquid gold to be, and it fits perfectly into a little vial the size of your middle finger. all that work for a little vial no bigger than your middle finger.

it's still the most valuable potion in the world, though.

the potion has large drops of gold leaping across the surface like goldfish, but it never seems to spill out of the vial. you put the stopper over it, and you hand it to fred, your fingers brushing against his warm ones in the process.

"thanks." he seems to whisper, even though he speaks at normal volume.

"we work well together, i think. usually i can't even get a basic potion done." you tell him, laughing a little.

"i bet that's not true." he responds, the corner of his lips upturned.

"it is." you laugh.

you both return to your seats after setting all the equipment away, and as the first group finished, it means you get to present it first.

snape looks at it approvingly, the first time he's ever regarded something you've done, as done well. you can't help but smile, and snape speaks. "i'm glad that you were able to work well once i removed you from your friends. mr. weasley will now be your partner."

you stare at him in slight disbelief, before shrugging and saying, "yes professor snape."

"as the first students done, and the best potion made, you may keep it. decide amongst yourselves which of you gets it." snape finishes, before shooing you away from his desk.

you both stare at each other, your eyes meeting his hazel brown ones. "you have it-" "i don't want-" you both say, before he tries to hand it to you.

you push his hand away, shaking your head, "it's alright, you can keep it."

"no, i think you should keep it. after all, you need it for potions, right?" he jokes, pushing it into your hands.

you gape at him in mock shock. "how could you say that! We only did so well because of me!" you respond, in mock indignation.

he laughs, as he closes your palm over the small vial, and you realise you've lost. however, you decide, you will sneak it into his bag when he's not paying attention.

the end of the lesson has never come so fast. And for the first time in your life, you're slightly disappointed to leave potions. before leaving you levitate the felix felicis potion into his bag with your wand, and you grin wickedly. you'll just have to see him in your other classes later.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fred Weasley thinks he is absolutely screwed. After a year of having a crush on a girl who he does not talk to often, despite sharing three lessons with her, he is now partners in potions with her for an indefinite period of time.

He doesn't know when he first noticed you, but god, is he glad he did. he thinks you may be the prettiest girl he's ever seen, with the brightest smile, and the sweetest personality.

so imagine his surprise, that this sweet girl, has gotten in trouble for talking so much (he doesn't care, he liked listening to your voice)

while you were freaking out and chanting 'oh shit' in your head, something similar was going through fred's. george coughs, unsuccessfully hiding his laugh behind it. fred elbows george to get him to shut up as you approach the table, and george gathers his things, to leave. he winks at fred, before walking to your previous seat next to your friend, flashing a quick and easy smile.

fred wishes he could talk to you so easily, and he tries his best not to show his nervousness, flashing you what he thinks is an awkward smile. (it isnt, it looks natural as hell, not to mention hot as hell)

while you make the potion, he watches you with fervour, as if he's scared he'll miss a single movement you'll make, hungrily soaking up your smiles like a man starved.

every touch feels like something he's been missing, like a hot cup of chocolate after a walk in winter, and he's scared he's going to get addicted.

he wants to give you the felix felicis, and is happy when you finally give up. after potions, in herbology, he reaches into his bag, to find the felix felicis. he laughs, before searching across the classroom for you.

when he makes eye contact, he raises an eyebrow, holding it in his palm to show you, his heart fluttering in his chest. he looks as composed and calm as ever to you, but he knows differently.

it becomes a game, the felix felicis. it takes over several months, and you start to get creative with it, hiding it in his mail, he hid it in your textbooks somehow, you hid it in his hair, etc etc.

it became a competition, who could come up with the craziest spots. after you hid it a couple months later in what you hope was his jacket pocket.

it's been awhile since you had first sat with fred in potions because of professor snape, and you're so happy to say that you've grown closer over the months, even spending time together out of lessons at cafes to study, or in the library together.

after hiding the felix felicis in his jacket pocket while on a walk with him in the winter months, you wait for his turn.

one day passes. nothing happens. another day, and another. four days later, and it still hasn't turned up yet. where is it? you wonder. you check for it everywhere you go, turning your entire dorm upside down searching for it.

he couldn't have lost it, right? it was in his jacket pocket. could it be that he's bored of this game, and he just decided to keep it? must be.

you're disappointed, of course, it was very enjoyable. but there's nothing you can really do.

imagine your surprise, when you walk into the dining hall, to see fred standing with his brother, and what- what's that in his hand? none other than the felix felicis.

you watch as he takes a swig of it, setting the rest of the vial in his pocket. his brother pats him on the back in what seems to be encouragement, and he walks over to your friend.

he smiles at her, and she smiles back. they talk and for some reason your heart starts to get a bit heavy.

'did he just drink the felix felicis just to talk to her?' you ask yourself. unable to stand there and watch, you turn around and walk out of the dining hall, threading your fingers through your hair, brushing it away from your face.

something dark, sick and familiar is brewing in the pit of your stomach, it's pulling, pushing your heart strings.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

fred weasley is going to ask you out. he toys with the felix felicis vial in his pocket as he waits for you to enter the dining hall, turning it over and over again in his pocket as he leans against one of the columns with george.

you don't show up for awhile, and fred's wondering where you are.

"go ask her friend." george states, pushing him forward, giving him a reassuring pat on the back.

fred hypes himself up, and he takes the vial out of his pocket, swigging a sip as he stalks towards your friend. the liquid is thick but light in his mouth, tasting of golden hawthorn berries and honey.

he taps her on the shoulder and smiles at her nervously.

"hey. where's y/n?" he asks your friend

"she's still upstairs i believe." she responds with a smile.

she turns around to see you walking out of the hall, and her smile drops.

"oh."

"what?" fred asks.

"i think she may have misunderstood what's going on." she sighs, and gives fred a slightly strained smile. "you couldn't have waited till after you spoke to me to drink it, could you?"

fred flashes a confused look. "whatever do you mean?"

"hasn't the entire potion been a game? who could hide it the best?" your friend asks him.

"i mean, yeah, it has. but i don't see the problem…?" he scratches the back of his neck.

she rolls her eyes, muttering something about 'boys…' freds eyes narrow, and she lets out a soft laugh.

"right. think of it this way. imagine you've had a crush on this guy for ages. you're not exactly close, but you talk. you have one 'special' thing you do together. for example, hiding the potion….and then you see them keeping it for themselves….you got me?" Your friend finishes, raising her eyebrows at him.

he stares, before realisation finally dawns on him.

"oh shit." he mutters, hand threading through his ginger locks.

"well?" your friend asks, somewhat impatient. "go after her."

fred nods, sprinting across the dining hall, after you. praying to himself that he can fix this, and george throws him a thumbs up as he sprints past.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'fuck.' you think as you sit down on the edge of the astronomy tower. you can't help but replay the moment of fred drinking the felix felicis before he speaks to your friend. he looked so nervous but so hyped.

you're not about to jump off the astronomy tower, but it's a nice place to be where you need some time alone, to think. you need that now.

that sick, familiar and painful thing pulling at your gut earlier, its back. theres nothing you can do now, but just sit back and let it happen, you suppose.

She's your friend, and so is fred. you have to be okay with it. it's not worth losing friends over.

the wind picks up, ruffling your hair into your face, tangling it into knots. the rain starts pouring down, dropleta cascading down your face.

turning your face up to the sky, you let out a deep sigh, feeling tears prickling at your waterline, fighting the tears back. 'no. you don't have a right to be upset.' you chatise.

'he's not yours. he never was.' you need to remind yourself. this isn't fair to either of them, they had no control over their feelings.

despite that, the tears continue to fall. you can't compete, this isn't fair. she knew you liked him. she knew how you felt. you literally spoke to her about it.

There is nothing. nothing you can do about this. you are just going to have to wait for the feelings to go away. it wouldn't be fair to like your best friend's boyfriend. (getting ahead of yourself, aren't we?)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

fred weasley is freaking out. he can't find you. you're not in the common room, in any of your lessons for the day (yes, he knows your schedule), you're not in any of the bathrooms (he didn't go in, he just asked the girls who came out of the bathrooms), and you're not near the black lake.

in his haste, he almost runs in to someone. "shit." he grunts

"watch where you're going!" someone says. he looks up and realises it's harry.

"oh it's you. you alright there, fred?" harry says, pulling fred up to his feet.

"harry!" fred basically shouts. "where's the marauders map?" he practically begs, and harry raises a brow in response.

"not the time. i need it." harry nods, pulling it out of his pocket, before handing it over to fred.

"oh shit." fred whispers, seeing your name pop up at the astronomy tower. how could he forget it? you told him weeks ago that it was your favourite place in the school.

shoving the marauders map back into harry's arms, fred yells his thanks to harry as he speeds through the hall, skipping steps three at a time to get to you, he stumbles a couple of times, not hitting the floor, but catching himself just in time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

your back is to the door, and the combination of the rain and the wind prevents you from hearing it open.

"y/n? are you alright?" fred asks quietly, taking a deep breath and sitting besides you.

you turn your face away, wiping away the marks of tears before turning back to him.

"yeah. just enjoying the rain. it's nice, isn't it?" you tell him, trying to change the topic, giving him a soft smile.

you both stare off into the distance, slowly watching all the dark rain clouds move away from the astronomy tower.

he notices that you're drenched, and he sighs. he pulls his jumper over his head, pulling his wand out from his pocket as he does so. "exaresco" he whispers as you dry off.

he passes you his jacket, which you accept without a word. it's still warm with his body heat, and smells faintly of the quidditch pitch and cinnamon, tinged with a scent of something burnt.

"so. you and (friend's name), huh?" you say to attempt to lighten the mood. turning your face to him, you send him a (fake) sly smile, nudging him in the arm.

he stares at you, furrowing his eyebrows. since he finally knows how you feel about him, why are you acting like this?

"no." his reply is short, straight to the point.

you gape at him, mouth falling open and he lets out a deep chuckle, his index finger reaching out and pushing your jaw back up.

"what do you mean no?? I saw you going up to her, drinking the felix felicis." you say, pushing his hand away from your face with a confused frown.

"it wasn't for her." He states simply, hoping his answer is enough for you to finally understand his feelings.

you stare blankly at him.

"you're one of the smartest people i know, but you're so oblivious." he states, sighing playfully.

"then who's the lucky girl?" you ask him, not really wanting to hear the answer anyway. your stomach's already feeling heavy, and he's not even said anything yet. is it katie bell? angelina johnson? who else has he spoken to that he might like?

fred lets out a groan. how can you be so oblivious.

"what?" You laugh, nudging him and trying to get out an answer from him. your hands are getting cold, so you put them in your (fred's) jacket pockets. there's something cold inside, and you pull out a familiar vial.

"why would you think there's anyone else?" fred asks, eyes trained on you as you turn the vial over and over again in your hands.

that catches your attention and your eyes turn to him. "what do you mean?"

fred laughs, his hand combs through his ginger locks as he pushes them back nervously.

"I'm trying, and failing apparently, to tell you i like you." he finally says, laughing nervously again, avoiding eye contact with you.

you gape, for the umpteenth time tonight, before realising he must be joking. you force out a laugh, slightly (super) disappointed. "you're so funny." you deadpan.

"i'm not joking."

"you must be." You respond, slightly hurt that he finds something like this funny. you're facing away again, so you don't notice him look at you. something steels inside of him, and he's confident this will end in his favour.

he reaches up, his hand finding your jaw, and he pulls your face back to him.

something in his eyes is dark, and you realise for the first time, that he's not joking. there's something similar to adoration in his eyes, and it's everything you do in your power to stop from gasping.

"i'm not joking." he repeats.

you can feel his breath on you, fanning across your skin like a warm embrace.

"are you sure?" you whisper, trying to contain the butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

"yes." his response is short, sure and straight to the point. "i am"

the next thing you know, his lips are on yours, breaths mingling together. he pulls you closer, and you feel yourself melt into his embrace.

you pull back from the kiss, and he lets out a unhappy groan.

"does this mean…you like me?" you ask him.

he glares at you, and you laugh. "i'm only joking." is your response. he grins, his forehead resting against yours.

you lie your head on his shoulder, and the both of you enjoy each other's company. this all happened because of felix felics. you can't help but feel so grateful. maybe you should stop hating potions now.

[adorekento]

flirty scara x insecured reader? like maybe self loathing themselves 😙

Glimpse — Scaramouche

Synopsis: You were nothing but an ordinary student, People never attempted to approach you, Until a certain Indigo-haired dude asked you out.

warnings: self-loathing, flirt attempts, offensive content, bullying, ooc, etc.

notes: agghsge I'm sosorryyy for being inactive 😭😭🙏🙏 I'll js fix the error tmrrrrr and if there's grammars my apologies im half asleep when i wrote this 🙂🙂

"y/n."

A voice called out from behind, startling you out of your thoughts. Veering around, your eyes locked with the Indigo eyes that were fixed on you, "Uh, Yes?" you asked, baffled.

It wasn't every time people would call out to you. In fact, No one attempt to chat with you unless they ought something. You'd probably be more surprised if someone spoke directly to you and it's happening, the person talking to you is known all over the school for their coldness and mindset. So you were kind of thrown when he began speaking to you.

"Be my partner."

Gasps can be heard throughout the room as students turn to look at the male who just spoke up, when he finished his sentence, your cheeks bloom red. It was not the statement you anticipated, especially from him, and you're kind of dumbfounded.

'He's probably just... Ugh.'

"Pardon?" you ask politely, though unsure about what his intentions are with this whole situation. "Did you not hear me? I want to be your companion for the upcoming task." He continues, giving you an expectant look which you fail to return because you're still trying to process what he'd said.

"Huh?! Scara~ Are you sure you want to be partnered with this— thing? Come on! Think twice!"

"Unless he lost to a bet?"

"Understandable."

"Right! He probably lost to a bet that's why he's asking y/n for their help, they don't even seem interested, Haha!"

"Seriously? Scaramouche and y/n? Is he just trying to get them a good grade by partnering with them?? That's stupid,"

The whispers around you grow louder as everyone starts to make fun of you for the current situation you're in.

"T-Thank you for the offer, really, But I'm certain I can work alone on our lesson," you say with an awkward smile, "Maybe you could just try asking someone else instead," you manage to say while staring into his pretty eyes.

"No way! Are they actually refusing Scaramouche?"

'What the fuck do you guys want me to do then?! You were just judging me a few seconds ago because he wants to pair up with me! And now that I'm rejecting his offer you're mad too?! Ridiculous!'

"they think rejecting him is cool! It's not like they ALWAYS get a partner, right?"

"They might reject him just for looking like this and making them feel inferior,"

"Poor Scaramouche! How can someone like them reject him?"

The students went on to talk as you tried to maintain yourself calm and steady despite all these comments, but unfortunately, all that did was cause you to start feeling a little tense. Not enough to go wild or anything. Just a tiny amount. You could still deal with the ridicule, but not enough to get furious at them,

Scaramouche grimaced at the crowd of students who were talking about you while you were staring at the floor, Making them look away,

He picked up your bag off the ground and threw it over his shoulder, grabbing your hand to pull you out of the classroom with him. You didn't resist as he dragged you outside, ignoring everyone calling after him as they watched him go.

Once you two left the room, he eventually let go of your hand and kept walking. You followed behind him, keeping your mouth shut. It wasn't until he stopped in front of you and uttered, "Apologies for dragging you here against your will, and well- drawing attention onto us," he says awkwardly, scratching his neck with his free hand as he looked around,

"Also, it's not every time I do requests. I wish to be your partner for the project. we have mutual chemistry and I believe that working together would benefit both of us," he said grinning,

You blinked rapidly a few times, not knowing how to respond to such a sincere statement,

"...You're aware that bunch of people out there desire to have you as their partner for this right? I mean I am glad and surprised that you're inviting someone like me but you don't have to push yourself!" you respond nervously, fiddling with your fingers before rubbing your hands to keep from getting too nervous.

"Look, I won't force you. You can simply say no, you're only saying that because you care about what people think, Right?" he asked.

He stared at you for a moment. Then he grabbed your chin, making you meet his intense eyes. You gasped slightly at the contact, then relaxed after a second. "Just do whatever feels right to you, okay?" He sneered.

Your face flushed again as you nodded shyly at him. He smiled lightly at you before releasing your chin and letting go of your hand,

"Okay..."

—

After a few days, You've gotten closer to Scaramouche, everyday he would go to you and walk you home, helping you study in class and even hanging out at lunchtime.

it also took you a bit to realize that you were starting to develop feelings toward him, Who wouldn't? With his handsome features paired with his cold demeanor, plus that cute laugh of his whenever he speaks, you're sure to fall in love with him sooner or later, no matter how hard you try not to.

The earlier morning he asked you to hang out with him at the park near your house so you agreed, and now you're walking with Him beside you. It was quiet between you two, as you weren't much of a chatterbox.

The silence is mostly comfortable, though you felt your heart beating faster than normal, which made you panic slightly. Why is your heart beating this fast? Maybe you're sick!

You shake the thought away, it's probably nothing... "You alright?" Scaramouche asked, tilting his head slightly as if noticing you panicking a bit before shrugging.

You nod quickly, trying to avoid eye contact, "Yea! I'm fine, Sorry, Don't you think it's gotten cold? It's not even winter yet—"

Your rambling stops abruptly as you felt his arm move across yours to hold your hand tightly. "If you wanted to hold my hand, you could've just said so, instead of making absurd excuses," he grinned at you, squeezing your hand reassuringly,

"T-That's not—" you stutter. Your ears start burning from embarrassment. You really shouldn't let his charm affect you that easily. Or maybe it was just the way his touch felt so warm and inviting?

"What's that? Do you also want to kiss me? Now aren't we getting ahead of ourselves a little early?" he smirked down at you, leaning forward until you were nose to nose,

"I didn't even say anything— I wasn't going to!" You argued back, taking a step back from him as he chuckled.

His laugh was nice to hear, "Go ahead, I might let you." He whispered in an amused tone. The smirk remained on his face as he leaned forward again, bringing his other hand to cup your cheek, "Are you blushing?" he teased gently stroking it with his thumb while keeping eye contact with you.

Your body was heating up, it felt warm and tingly from all those butterflies suddenly fluttering around in your stomach, and your cheeks felt flushed due to his closeness. It was weird and uncomfortable how he had made you feel all flustered and embarrassed. You didn't know how to respond, so you simply closed your eyes, allowing your cheek to be caressed while his breath tickled your ear,

You felt his lips brush against yours and your heart began racing again. His thumb moved from your cheekbone and rested itself over your lips before moving slightly and softly kissing them. Your eyes flew open in shock. You stood there, frozen and completely dumbfounded as your heart rate increased drastically in both speed and volume,

"There, I kissed you." He snickered down at you, his voice low and smooth. His voice sends shivers down your spine and you blush more.

You shook your head slightly and cleared your throat before smiling at him,

"Right!" That was all you managed to mutter back.

You looked back at him for a second, then averted your gaze toward the ground once more. You couldn't believe that you got kissed by someone like Scaramouche! you didn't have any idea how to react.

but, to be fair, most girls would jump at the chance to kiss him when they first saw him, so you weren't complaining.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt his hand slide down your arm to grasp your hand and intertwine your fingers. You glanced down at your interlaced hands, then back up at him in confusion, "Are you fine with this?" he asked, looking at you curiously.

"Mhm! No worries." You nodded quickly as you started to walk, but hesitantly intertwined your fingers with his, causing his grin to widen.

"But... If any chance s-someone you know strolled by— we can quit holding hands, I don't want to embarrass you in front of your friends..." you mumbled, feeling his hand squeeze yours tighter.

"If someone I know happened to catch a glimpse of us, I'd pull you extra close."

© [ adorekento ] do not steal, repost, or translate my work.

[tinandabin]

Guys. S4 EP1 Kny. Let's insert reader there because YESSSSSSSS!!!!!! im SO EXCITED TO BE WIRITNG FOR KNY AGAINN!!!!!!!

updated a/n: y'all, it's me, tina except now kny has s4 ep8. wow I forgot about this draft lemme continue it.

Yandere Muzan x Reader ( I hope this is yandere )

__________

You were summoned in the infinity castle, well not really summoned, just teleported to a different area since you quite literally live in the infinity castle. All because of stupid Muzan being love-sick over you. Like bro, find a new obsession or something. Stop being a creep.

"[Name], come here. Stand beside me." Muzan said without looking at you, sensing your presence as soon as you were here. He was mixing some chemicals, since when did bro know chemistry?

You obeyed nonetheless, it would be futile to resist. So you got up and stood beside him, like a dutiful pet. You couldn't help but look at all the different chemicals Muzan was mixing, like bro, tell me the atomic mass of barium!!! You had this sudden urge to poke the chemicals, so you did. "Darling, don't do that." He chided you softly, as if you were some child. Did you listen to him? No.

Soon, all of the uppermoons were summoned and Muzan went on and on like some boring professor lecture. You almost fell asleep, almost.

"Ne ne, Muzan-sama, who's the new guest?" Douma, sitting in a criss-cross position, pointed a finger at you, staring at you menacingly. You stared back, more menacingly. Soon, it turned into a staring contest between the two of you before you decided to jump down the platform where Muzan is also standing, because why not? You have free will!!

Muzan glanced at you before sighing, irritated. "Don't do it." He warned. You looked back at him, smirking. "What if I did?" You replied in a snarky tone. Muzan looked fed up with your bullshit while Douma only merrily laughed in the background, finding it amusing that someone was able to challenge the demon king. A mere human, at that.

"Don't," Muzan said, not bothering to look at you again. "What's the magic word?" You wiggled your eyebrows at him. Really, all of the uppermoons were just waiting for you to get your skull burst open because who in their sane mind tells the demon king to say the magic word? Psh, as if he will- "Please don't." I kid you not, the uppermoons let out collective gasps. "Are you a witch?" Daki muttered, looking very surprised.

You only laughed and decided to not jump off the platform. Maybe another day. It was comical seeing the oh-so-feared demon king listen to the demands of a tiny human. That, my dear, was a normal day with the feared demon king. Just some uppermoon meetings, where you got Muzan to do something polite, effectively shocking the uppermoons to their core so much that they might just go into a coma. They all have concluded that you must be some type of goddess to be able to get Muzan to say, 'please'.

_______

"Moo-zan." You poked Muzan's cheek as he read some boring ass book about flowers. He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, humming.

"I'm bored."

"And? That is not of my concern."

"I'm bored."

"I still don't understand how is that my concern."

"I'll eat your books."

"Would you like to go to dinner, tonight?" Muzan felt threatened. He knows you won't be beyond eating his books.

Silly little threats always work, guys. Try it out! Sponsored by [Name].

Masterlist

[irisintheafterglow]

hear me out....Hawks hcs with a significant other who has a Chemist/Potion quirk. Like im talking a buncha potion bottles and glasses of little remedies they've made and have yet to test 🙏. Kei would occasionally find her notebook on the counter or table, the notebook being filled with ideas of new mixes or something specifically for healing for Keigo when he comes home injured

Also love your work! Some of the best things I've read have come from your page

good chemistry (pun intended)

cw/tags: fem!reader, established relationship, pet names (my girl, love, baby)

note: YASS YOU ARE COOKING and so is reader!! please excuse any chemistry misrepresentations i got a 2 on the ap chem exam LMAOO. thank you for the love, i hope you enjoy this!!!! been a hot minute since i wrote for keigo and i missed him :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

"you've got a visitor."

you startle when your coworker's head peeks into your lab, carefully setting down the beakers of volatilely combustible liquids on the black counter of the bench. she tilts her head to the side, urgently commanding you to check out whatever was making her so concerned. slipping off your gloves and sliding your goggles up on your forehead, you thank her as she opens the door and your jaw hits the floor. talking to an obviously starstruck receptionist was your boyfriend, still in his flight jacket and sunglasses and causing the biggest scene you've witnessed in the office since all might accidentally set off the sprinkler system. golden eyes flick over to you in the doorway and his mouth breaks out into a dazzling smile, one that has your coworker clutching the back of a chair for support.

"there's my girl," he murmurs, embracing you with strong, open arms and a chaste peck on your forehead, right under your goggles. you can feel the jealous eyes of the entire staff, but all keigo only pays attention to you. "you look beautiful today, birdie."

"you're saying that because i have goggle marks on my face, kei," you remark, unfazed, and he shrugs in defeat. red feathers sprinkle onto the floor and you make a note to remind him to recall them before he leaves.

"eh, worth a shot. you're unfortunately immune to my charm, now. just means i have to come up with some new lines." you scoff despite your racing heartbeat. with his stupid superhuman senses, he definitely knew exactly what he was doing to you.

"shouldn't you be on patrol?"

"i am, but i wanted to see you and bask in your radiance," he grins boyishly, running his tongue over a sharp tooth. despite every cell in your body wanting to drag him into the nearest supply closet and kiss him until you're breathless, you're still skeptical about the unexpected visit. his voice drops to a low, private octave that sends goosebumps up your arms. "also, i think you left a certain notebook on the kitchen table." your eyebrows blast off into the ceiling, panic overtaking you as you whirl your head toward your lab where you thought your formula book was.

"oh my god, did someone take-"

"no, baby. you're okay," he reassures you and the notebook magically appears from the depths of his jacket pockets. "i'm glad i picked it up before i left this morning," he chuckles. for good measure, you flip through the worn pages to verify that every experiment was, in fact, still there. exhaling a deep sigh of relief, you meet his gentle gaze with a thankful smile. the pages were worth more to you than any sum of money, since it held all the formulas for the antidotes and counteragents you made for keigo when he was injured.

you'd created it after he asked, between colorful strings of expletives, why getting patched up hurt more than the actual injury. being the loving partner you are, you decided to do something about it. your quirk allowed you to visualize all possible outcomes for a chemical reaction depending on the quantities of reactants and lab conditions. it ensured that every experiment you instigated would be successful, as long as you followed the conditions in your head down to the air temperature of the lab. your recordings in the notebook started as a simple antiseptic that didn't have the sting of store-bought bottles, one that could douse a wound without so much as a flinch from the injured patient. now, you were part of an independent company that created first aid products for heroes to use and distribute during rescues. and, it was all thanks to the oversized chicken-man that slept in your bed.

"whatcha workin' on right now?"

"some stronger eyedrops for eraserhead," you reply, taking his gloved hand and guiding him into your lab. he delicately picks up a few beakers, inspecting their color through the bottom of the glass like a kid in a soda shop.

"like the stuff you put in my eyes when-"

"when you got hit by that smoke quirk, mhmm," you hum, milling about in front of the shelf of chemicals. "if i figure this out, it'll also help when your eyes get dry from flying."

"you mean, when you figure this out," he reminds you, turning you to face him and pulling you close by your hips. he leans into your hand when you card your fingers through his wind-mussed hair, melting against your touch. "there's nothing in this world that you can't do."

"you're a really sappy guy, you know that?"

"i know it, as much as i know that you're never getting rid of me."

"you promise?"

"as long as the birds still fly, baby."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[oneslimybastard]

Another underutilized aspect of N, Natural Harmonia Gropius himself, is that he's conceptualized as not just a Math Guy, but a Math Genius if we go by some interview trivia notated on Bulbapedia.

It clearly shows in the way he speaks since his (translated) dialogue (idk about the original japanese one) is full of hamfisted references to formulas and frustration expressed when the chaos of the world does not align with them — which to me is like, the core of his character, something that makes him both An Asshole to deal with but also a very intellectually curios and creative individual. It's just a brand of creativity not a lot of people can keep up with nor understand.

N likes math because a lot of math is about clearly defined variables and their relationship to one another. If you come across an inconsistency that doesn't fit any prior definitions, you iron out a new definition and suddenly the field has expanded upon itself tenfold. It aligns with how his Very Autistic Brain functions, x + y = z, if I do x to y then z will happen. If z doesn't happen, then that just means I have to identify the hidden variables within the exchange and rewrite the formula to be more accurate.

Black and White's quality of writing is. Like pokémon often is. Questionable at best. The foundations are there but the execution is dumbed down and corny because it's still aimed at kids, BW in specific really cutting the theme of pokémon trainer ethics short in favor of just "dang u beat me in the pogiebattle guess ur right!". How-ev-er. In my head, and the reason why I still find the plot of those games compelling (aside for my unhinged thirst for goth man-milf Ghetsis) is that to me they're about local cult-raised autist Normal Henry Gropus bashing his head against the world over and over to desperately try and make the formulas make sense, to distill it into variables he can understand and predict on a consistent basis, and failing miserably at it. Because even if the world is Technically made up of a bunch of chemistry that you could, in theory, predict, there's just a lot of random noise in there from microscopic complexities that fuck everything up.

Pokémon are simpler creatures (discounting the eerily intelligent ones) who will be nice enough to behave like math problems most of the time. Humans rarely extend that grace, the more N studies them like a science project the more contradictory variables pop up. They have a million thoughts in their head he doesn't have access to, that brew into feelings he doesn't understand, which leads to actions he can't do a proper traceback through. Which is frustrating, devastatingly frustrating. At least at first.

Due to how BW2 pans out and my own yearning for thematic mirroring, whereas Ghetsis gives in to the Autistic Bitterness over all these NTs he doesn't fuckign understand, I like to think N develops a sort of joy in studying people like the impossibly complex math problems we are. Because he likes math, he likes figuring shit out, he likes buying a nightmare rubik's cube and charting the squares out on a nightmare variable graph (listen i am not a math guy. i respect the hustle but my skill level is too low to accurately attempt to simulate the process in writing. im sorry math guys) so he has a home-made flexible cheat code on how to solve any possible mix-up of it. It's fun for him, it stimulates his brain and he is so stupid good at it that he can only share that joy with like a stray alakazam or metagross because he's a bit of a tarzan just hanging out in the wilderness, he doesn't know any high end mathematicians he can casually geek out about combinatorial game theory with, and the normies just do not get it .

I think this math enjoying is kind of a big part of his ~Innocence~ as well, since there's a lot of childlike glee to being a Math Guy. It's the love of problem solving as a process rather than a means to an end, it's playful, but severely misunderstood to the point where people kinda might assume things about you if you are a math guy.

N's love of math helps him love the world but it also isolates him. He's a genius, but since he can't communicate it in a palatable way it'll get overlooked in favor of him just being a loomy weirdo on the street chatting up the local patrats.

If introduced to DnD though he'd spend so much time on forging ridiculously optimized multiclass builds, then migrate to digging through old obscure sci-fi ttrpgs from the 80s with hellishly complex systems just for the funsies of learning how the presented variables behave within a variety of frameworks, but then if you actually invited him to play with your group he'd look at you like you'd just called his mom a llama.

He's a neat guy to me, STEM guy who's also one of those animal rights activists who's a little too PETA-coded, I like him :)

[seattlesellie]

im having…. thoughts… about guitarist!ellie and lead singer!reader in a fleetwood mac type band.

so imagine you and ellie are fucking famous. like super fucking famous rockstars. she’s the rough, eclectic, groupie magnet guitarist, and you are the desirable, beautiful lead singer and lyricist of the band. the world is practically yours. touring all over, days filled with music, recording studios, top notch producers, assistants, all the clothes you could ever wish for. and the nights - always fucking blurry, chaotically beautiful messes. drugs youve never even heard of, alcohol, chasing the darkness and partying till you and the band are black out drunk in a fucking billionaires’s apartment in downtown nyc.

you have everything you want in the palms of your delicate, yet masterful hands. the thing is…

the fucking lead guitarist. shes a fucking menace. all you do is argue, throw shit at each other when she doesn’t understand what chord you wanted her to play, or when she thinks one of your new songs are stupid, “user your brain” she throws. it always gets heated when you two are around each other. its like when you two start arguing all the other band members completely shut off. they used to get involved, pin you back when you grabbed one of the drummer’s sticks ready to shove it inside of ellie’s eyeball, or when she got so pissed at you for telling her she “needs to practice one more time” she almost broke her guitar in half on your very own head. but now - they just leave the studio, or the apartment, or the middle of your giant loft, and let you two go at it, scream until your voice cracks, leaving you two red faced and panting until one of them decides to throw a bottle of whiskey directly into ellie’s hands so she could take a shot and chill the fuck out before she destroys everything near her.

you dont know what it is. you have no idea why you keep clashing with her like two fucking war enemies, two hungry lions in a cage.

but when you get on that stage - to everyone’s disbelief, thats where the magic happens. your chemistry is off the charts. the sound of your voice, the movement of your body in contrast to her rough stance and loud guitar create something that is so beautiful it almost hurts. chaos turns into an absolute electric masterpiece. when you’re standing there, almost going deaf over the screaming sounds of your adoring crowd, you and ellie collide. all the fights turn into harmony. a rough, harsh, rock&roll harmony. you two are mixed into one, leaving everybody yearning for more.

i keep imagining this scene where you two had a huge fight before a show. one that left you trembling and crying and seeking for help. ellie’s been bringing a new imbecile, empty eyed groupie to rehearsals every day. its like she does it on purpose. she takes ownership of your songs and dedicates them to those girls. “this ones for you, beautiful” she says in her husky voice, the one she uses with them, since it always fucking works, before glaring at you, knowing you were already twitching your hand, enraged.

you go up on stage after a screaming fest with ellie (dare i say your band is playing the chain by fleetwood mac… if u know u know) and you sing your fucking heart out, sweating, dancing around like no ones watching, bewitching the crowd. and then the sound of her guitar gets louder. its louder than your voice, making you sound like youre miles away. and youre on the stage ground - because you were giving the crowd what they were asking for. hair sticking to your forehead, throat burning like fire. and ellie comes over, walks toward you slowly, with a look on her face you could only describe as raging and… hungry. her hands playing the guitar so harshly you swear you can see small dots of blood forming on her calloused, guitarist fingertips. the sounds of the electric guitar are deafening but oh so beautiful, electric. youre on the ground, in your flowy white skirt, and as soon as almost you manage to get up, she steps on the fabric, and youre on your knees. you cant move, and her gaze is so sharp you think she see’s through you. the crowd is going fucking wild, screaming and begging for more - and you cant move.

i couldnt stop thinking about this omfg guys. i wanna do a full on fic.

[sarejima]

i am a starving child and am requesting kyman fanfics to soothe my hunger (PLS recommend ME SOME)

OMG YAY SOMEBODY ASKED ME SMTH IM SO HAPPY AMSBSDB

Unfortunately I'm a green and inexperienced mother but I'll do my best!! (thisll be long as i cant keep from waxing poetic about fics i like)-

The love of my life and one of the best things I've had the pleasure of reading period is “Know your Enemy” by Elsen. It's beyond perfect to me enough so that even though it may never be finished I'm sort of satisfied. Eric's characterisation is beautiful and literally just as hilarious as in the show itself with the way he schemes and jumps over nonsensical hoops in his head in order to satisfy his self image in processing his feelings for Kyle and unwitting desires to submit to him. The plot and setting in and of themselves also somehow complement his absurdity. Also has just the right amount of perversion. (Okay I'm done sorry)

Another genius Cartman channelfic that I was audibly giggling at due to the insanity of his mental gymnastics is "I crush everything" by Rainbow_Convection which is quite short and mainly deals with him "processing" his feelings

(The above person is really good at writing compellingly about manic impulses and emotions so check out their other fics too)

On a similar note and also exploring implications of Cartmans outright deluded conscious, this time through Kyle's perspective, is 'Imaginationland 4: a tale of two Kyles' by Sinshipsahoy where it's revealed to Kyle (in increasingly horrifying ways) that Cartman's mind is (literally) swarming with him.

(This guy also has a worryingly well written corpse desecration fic so if that's your cup of tea)

In the 'I'm with Stupid' series by numbknee Eric gets together with Kyle and is annoying and fiercely loveable and everything's great until Kyle realises that sadly Cartman's views on relationships/love in general- but especially with Kyle, his 'enemy'- had been significantly skewed from the start due to an aversion to vulnerability, stunting their progress. I especially like the fourth and last fic/chapter.

Kinda depressing but in 'Sharing Last Names' by serpenrzbreath an adult Cartman's Kyle obsession is partly due to lamenting, while in the depths of denial, his own collosal wasted potential as over the years wasted rotting and room-bound due to severe mental instability but also just lack of trying, one of the only things grounding his shame is Kyle's comparative success, and when a time of reckoning comes an unwilling(?) Kyle is all he feels like turning to. However he soon learns that pity and concern is much more confusing and enraging than ire.

Some more Kyle focused fics are

'Love and the other thing' by Gumdroppy where we get an equal amount of Kyle and Eric perspective- Kyle who revealed his love for Eric as a kid first and loves Eric WAY too much for his own good(to the point where his friends feel the need to take measures to ensure his best interests) and Eric who perhaps fell harder- worships the ground Kyle walks on- but can't seem to help the kneejerk hurt and abuse that flows from his hands. Bonus points for jealous Stan and Kenny being an angel.

Ans also by Elsen 'How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Let My Mortal Enemy Eat My Ass' which is really hot with a compelling theme of overcoming Kyle's past trama what can I say

'It's basically a weird cat, right?' By Verimakea is a adorable fic about adult Kyle who by chance meets Eric in raccoon form(and then not-so-raccoon form) in which Cartman has separation issues and Kyle is forced to battle loneliness and incteasing mildly worrying feelings for this addition to his life.

Some other concepts:

'Baby, Just Say Yes' by shortstackedcheesecake96- a beautiful wonderful fic where the palpable chemistry between a (surprisingly earnest about the subject and a talented actor) Cartman and (quite good novice) Kyle get cast as Juliet and Romeo respectively. There's so much compelling teenage awkwardness where they both appear to be unwillingly drawn to each other despite everything in ways they feel they really shouldn't- Kyle especially is almost embarrassingly captivated by an Eric in his element- and it's such a pleasure to read; just thinking about some scenes has me wanting to reread it lmao.

(This writer also has a lot of enticing and well-written smut too)

'Fake it 'till you make it' by mewtwos is another fic I hold so so close to my heart in which Kyle and Eric have to fake date for a bit, until they realise that these fake displays of affection draw them in a little bit too hard; make them a bit too lightheaded, and by that point the reel has already been cast. It's insanely well written.

'Expertise' by Mewtwos where Eric is a little too eager to practice kissing with kyle and they have a little awakening

'To Be Wanted' by Verimakea- a Cowboy au where Kyle takes it upon himself to capture Wanted Sheriff Cartman, but things quickly gp array and they and up stuck together in one place for an indeterminate amount of time, with Kyle put in a position where he often has bo choice but to rely on the other. This writer is seriously skilled at painting subtly erotic/suggestive imagery, and writing complex emotions into characters through their actions so its quite the fun leg-kicking read lol.

'Copacabana' by Senkenwoo is a bittersweet fic about jaded middle aged retired performer Kyle recalling how he lost his charming and endearingly annoying bartender lover

Some unconventional smut cus y not:

'Laid To Rest' by gosh_zillah in which Kyle has a deep seated desire to be a cocksleeve and subsequently gets watched in his sleep by an enthralled little audience for a bit(among other things as he proves to be quite perceptive lol)

"You're in his DMs? i'm in his walls, we are not the same" by ratherblue - Eric watches Kyle have smexy times thru a hidden camera; implied mutual pining. Also Kyle's trans

'Cause I'm a free bitch, baby' by knumbknee where Kyle sees an Eric in proper drag for the first time and is transfixed

'sleep tight' by bloodylamb is a quirky little sleepover somnophillia fic where Kyle's mildly vocal about his Eric-disposition in his sleep if you're good with dubcon.

I'm sure you weren't expecting to be waterboarded by text and for this I apologise

[bloodyminyard]

a (long) comprehensive list of buck related things in 7x04 that have me losing it as i rewatch:

- the stupid starry eyed look he has while getting the tour from tommy

- the terrible “i need mo jo” joke that tommy laughs at purely bc it was endearing

- “you didn’t call me because you wanted to see the toys”

- “you need to raise your bar kid” my GOD the “kid”

- ofc, the “no way!! eddie was in the army!”

- god they are so FLIRTY “really?” “my fees are competitive” “let me buy you a beer no WAY buck is this clueless

- eddie being so excited about the fight, and specifically the idea of buck joining help

- “keeping my options fluid” SIR

- evan?!?!?!????

- the close up shot as the fly off my heart

- the look on bucks face when eddie talks about tommy, boy is devastated

- “i saved a baby in a pipe once!” yes you did were so proud

- not buck related: but i adore ravi so much

- OKAY BUT BUCKS STUTTER !! they way he trips over his words when he’s surprised or nervous or even upset 😭

- “i do. i really do.” MY GOD OH MY GOD FUCK ASHHH AHHH

- and the SIGH after as eddie walks away, the building up the courage to ask more

- THE SAY HIS FACE DROPS WHEN EDDIE ASKS HIM TO WATCH CHRIS OHHH EDMUNDO WHEN I CATCH YOU

- “i keep saying, chris it’s not a video game” “because it’s harder than a video game???” maddie i see you and am so sorry you have to deal with this

- SAME WITH “he’s made an impression in a very short time” “i can see that” LIKE SHE IS SO NOT GONNA BE SURPRISED WHEN BUCK COMES OUT TO HER 😭

- “i don’t think you lie to a child just to ingratiate yourself” bro it’s not that serious i promise

- sorry brb imagining buck asking chris all these questions about tommy and chris going 🤔🤔🤔

- buck being upset that eddie invited tommy to play basketball even though eddie always asks him and he says no bc he doesn’t like it… he’s so me i can’t

- “was there a heart around it?” there might as well been maddie!!!

- peacocking buck we love and hate to see (it’s so embarrassing i have to close my eyes. “maybe we should hoop” sir please stop)

- the pouting OLEASE he’s so

- his smile

- the “evan” throws me off every TIME but also it kindaaaaa

- “what are the odds?” bro chill

- the smile when tommy fists bumps him oh i see you gay boy even if you don’t yet

- “so i’m your basketball beard” brother you don’t even KNOW

- i’m sorry the song that’s playing while they play basketball is “playing with the boys”🤔🤔… the lyrics too “i don’t wanna be obsessed but my desire with the boys” (and YES i am aware it’s a top gun reference, however that movie is also gay is hell and so is this song, moving on)

- tommy cocking his head when buck runs into him like oh my

- poor chim does not deserve to be put in the middle of all of this

- “well you bucked that up didn’t you” :(

- okay this scene between maddie and buck afterwards is actually so important to me, i love their ability to communicate, and how buck openly admits that he doesn’t know if he meant to hurt eddie or not, and that he was angry and lashed out, and maddie’s reaction to it :( “that’s not how you get someone’s attention”

- “i guess i was trying to get his attention” buck is the representative of the “i don’t know why i do the things i do until tons of self reflection after the fact” club, same im the president actually

- i do love that we get to watch him try and figure out why he acts and feels the way he does in real time! even at the end he still doesn’t entirely know until tommy is in his face staring at his lips

- the stutter is back 🫶

- “evan…” STOP THE WAY HE SAYS IT THAT TIME MAKES ME GIGGLE I CANT

- this entire scene drives me crazy btw i can literally pick it apart piece by piece… but the way he smiles throughout it makes my heart go akrjeidjdjsjd

- the chemistry is fucking IMMACULATE btw!! the flirting is so natural and it shows through buck being oblivious about it!! like brother no one stands that close to each other

- buck figuring out how he feels AS he speaks!!! poor boy is trying to catch up as fast as he can

- everything about the “okay” after tommy says “i can teach you”… the smile, the eye squint, the head tilt, like oh my GOD

- the way the tone changes when buck says “good” my GOD, the way his face drops as he comes to the realization that maybe it was about tommy the whole time

- the “cause trying to get your attention has been kinda exhausting” punches me in the gut EVERY TIME I WATCH THIS LIKE FUCK OH MY GOD BUCK LIKES MEN FR? and the way he says it GOD, like i said, he’s literally figuring this out as the words come out of his mouth (“i guess so”)

- okay my ONE nitpick about the kiss scene is that tommy grabs his chin, and then when it cuts it’s the two fingers under the chin, it’s inconsistent and i think i like the chin grab better

- the absolute STUNNED look in bucks eyes after the kiss!!! as the perfect oliver stark put it: he’s found something he’s been missing for a long time

- tommy is so worried in the split second before buck tells him that it was okay

- the wordless nod after tommy asks if it was okay THIS MEANS SO MYCH TO ME

- you can FEEL the sense of relief and wholeness radiating off of buck

- “better than fake mouth static” AKSHSISHS

- his eyes following tommy’s lips as he laughs, and then the brief look down like his whole WORLD has just been turned upside down before tommy speaks again

- i am so fucking here for buck being asked out and being stunned by it

- the stutter again 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

- tommy’s smile as he leaves like tee hee ur kinda cute

- the entire of his expressions at the end. there’s panic, there’s confusion, there’s happiness OLIVER STARK THE MAN THAT YOU ARE !!!!

in conclusion: this is everything i wanted and more, the brain rot is everywhere, i cannot escape this episode

[cowboy-robooty]

something that i think is sooooo stupid is this obsession people have with being "good for their age" at art. i know a million people say this and talk about this sentiment being harmful already but i really do think it is a terrible way to think about things. Art is a skill just like being good at math or playing basketball and I think its stupid when people put the worth of their skillset in tandem with their age because also it completely disregards the notion of how everybody lives in different ways. Michaelangelo was so good at art not only because he was a genius but also because bro literally woke up every mf day and only drew since he was a little baby so no shit he could make amazing sculptures in his early 20s. Everyone lives with so many different responsibilities and different amounts of freetime, so really i think its quite stupid to say someone is "good for their age" because that doesnt say anything about their ability to budget their time or naturally progress or commit to the grind despite everything or really anything at all since you dont have any idea about what kind of life they live. There are crazy artists out there who go to cram school for 11 hours a day on top of extracirriculars + volunteer work and still manage to create with the same skill level as someone who is the president of going home club. You dont know the resource of time that is ACTUALLY avaliable to one person compared to others using their age, so its stupid to act as though that its such a big deal. I personally dont think ive ever been good at drawing for my age and thats fine because I dont care about that. I could be good at drawing for my age if i committed more freetime to practicing it, but i dont because i dont want to. just like how i could be a super scholar whiz at chemistry or something but im not because I dont want to spend all my freetime doing problems and reading textbooks. I dont think the progress id make in those kinds of skills are worth missing watching a movie with my friends or learning how to bake a cake or enjoying a walk on a trail. I think anybody can be a genius at anything if they put their mind to it, but it also comes at great suffering most of the time because a lot of sacrifices have to be made and being able to embrace the choices you make with the limited time you have is important to being happy with what you have. Like yknow celebrating the stuff you were able to collect instead of mourning all the things you wish you had. I think only very few people are actually good at art for their age, like how einstein is one of the few people who was for real smart for his age and that is okay because what matters is having something you feel passion in doing. For a lot of people if they actually forced themselves to sacrifice what they needed to in order to be "good for their age" they would probably lose the passion in their craft during that process; which is probably one of the only ways to make the skill of drawing useless.

[fearlessreid]

Bad Idea, right?

a/n: yeah yeah steve won the poll, enjoy.

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: you and king steve have been broken up for 6 months, will that distaste you feel for him manifest into sexual tension when you see him at a party?

warnings: SMUT 18+. swearing. unprotected sex (pls wrap it up, especially with your ex) piv sex

2K words (not proofread)

obv based off of olivia’s song

Six months ago I broke up with ‘king steve’, he would tell you that it's because there was a ‘lack of chemistry’ which we all know is a lie, the real reason is because all he could care about was partying and his stupid, stupid hair.

Im sitting at my vanity applying lip gloss, getting ready for another one of carol perkins end of year summer kickoff parties, it's honestly just an excuse for the jocks to hook up with the band geeks and then blame it on the alcohol.

“Okay so Tommy is going to be there, despite it being carols party and they broke up right after prom” my best friend, heather rants. I nod my head and continue applying my makeup. Heather continues “But Tommy told me to keep an eye out for him so I think he wants to hook up and- you are so not listening”

I sigh “I am, I just have bigger things to worry about” I say and heather scoffs “right because worrying about being at a party with steve harrington for the first time in months is so important” she sasses and I roll my eyes.

“Oh please like I could give a shit about king steve and his hair that would explode if I held a lighter to it”. Heather laughs “you totally give a shit,” “nope now hand me the hairspray”

At the party, I stand by a staircase, nursing a cup of jungle juice in my hand, watching across the room as Heather has her tongue down tommys throat.

A hand taps my shoulder and I look at the culprit. Peter Marco, the cute boy from my algebra class, once upon a time, long before Steve harrington, I had a crush on peter, that crush being fizzled out by the charm of king steve.

He smiles, his dimple showing “hey, haven't seen you in a hot second” he says and i smile back, “yeah, I took a break from the whole party thing”. For the next half an hour, I talked with Peter, he's cute and he's funny, he's the type of guy I should want.

Our peaceful conversations get interrupted by a boy yelling “king steve is in the building” and everyone starts chanting and cheering. I roll my eyes and walk into the kitchen, I did not need this.

I down at least 3 more cups of jungle juice, the sugar is rotting my teeth and the alcohol is going right into my bloodstream, it's only 10:00 pm and I am completely wasted.

I walk to go use the bathroom. My head is spinning. I bump into someone and the next thing I can comprehend is their drink now on my dress, my light pink dress. I look up and his eyes burn into mine, the man of the hour, Steven William Harrington.

“You absolute idiot look what you did” I yell. I pushed past him and ended up in the second floor bathroom. I locked the door and took a wet towel to try to scrub the drink out of my dress.

There's a knock at the door. “Occupied” I called out and took a seat on the toilet seat. “Open up” Steve calls from the other side of the door. I roll my eyes “go away” I yell and go back to scrubbing at my dress.

“I brought a tide stick, let me in” he says, an undertone of annoyance. I hesitantly open the door and let him in. He comes in and closes the door.

I sit back down on the toilet seat and he bends down on his knees and tries to take out the stain with the tide stick. It doesn't work and I sigh frustratedly. “I'll pay for dry cleaning, don't get your panties in a twist”

His comment makes me scoff “you see? Comments like those are why I dumped your ass”. “You're wasted” he says and i laugh “so what”, he sighs “so i'm taking you home, I haven't drank anything tonight”

I shake my head “i'm not going anywhere with you, plus im here with heather”. Now it's steves turn to laugh “heather left with tommy like 15 minutes ago, let me take you home, no funny business, i promise”

I get into his car and we drive in silence and we pass my street “steve that was my street “what the fuck”, he smiles and shakes his head “youre parents would kill you if you showed up this sloshed, and i meant what i said, no funny business”

My eyes burn into him “fine”

I walk into the Harrington home and the memories start flooding in, the good and the bad. Steve guides me to his room and lays me on the bed. “You'll take the bed, I'm staying in the guest room” and explains. “Stay” I basically beg

I make room for him on the bed and he lays next to me. He's taken off his shirt and changed into his pyjama pants and I steal one of his shirts to sleep in.

All I can notice is his pants low on his hips, his toned v line. my thighs press together. The rational part of my brain is trying to talk but all im hearing is ‘blah blah blah’

I can feel Steve's eyes on me,he's right next to me, I feel the heat of his body lingering on mine, the tension is unbearable.

“Fuck it” i mutter under my breath, i straddle steves hips and his eyes widen “what are you doin-” i cut him off by placing my lips on his, he tenses but melts into the kiss, his hands finding my waist.

The kiss heats up as I grind my hips into his. Steve pulls away and I whine. “You are drunk, we can't” he says and i shake my head “i sobered the minute i walked into this house” i say and peck his lips.

Steve contemplates and is at a mental war with himself. He mutters a “fuck it” and smashes his lips back into mine and my hips immediately find his again and he lets out a groan.

“This is such a bad idea” I mutter against his lips. He flips us so he's on top and pushes my shirt up and kisses down my chest and stomach until he reaches the waistband on my underwear. “Steve please we don't have time for that just put it in me” I beg, Steve nods and takes off his sleep plants to reveal his cock.

My mouth waters at the sight “fuck ive missed your cock so much”, steve smirks and takes off my underwear to reveal my glistening cunt. He groans at the sight and lines up his cock with my folds as he rubs the tip of his cock through them.

My back arches as I moan “please steve, no teasing”. He slides it slowly into me and we both moan at the feeling. He allows me to adjust until I give him the okay. He pumps slowly and I wrap my legs around his waist bringing him closer. It shouldn't feel this intimate, I can't hear my thoughts screaming. This is a bad idea.

His thrusts get sloppy. Signalling that he's close and he sneaks his hand down to my clit and starts rubbing at the nub.

Steve cums first, his hips stuttering and he breathes heavily as he cums, I finish seconds after him, my body tensing with pleasure.

As we both come down from our highs, my thoughts run wild, what the hell just happened.

Steve pulls out of me and watches his cum drip out of me. As the post orgasm haze dissipates my eyes widen “steve we forgot to use a condom”

He freezes and panic sets into his face “oh fuck”