#maybe this is obvi and has been discussed

[callstheadventurescience]

In the Harrow the Ninth river bubble, when Judith is shot eight times (which is significant bc this meant The Sleeper has to reload)...is this a foreshadowing of Judith eventually being possessed by the RB of the eighth planet, Neptune aka Varun?

[meirimerens]

(ran this reblog through a discussion with some people who have more experience in storytelling/gamedev than i do and some who are central asian indigenous [which i'm not] to get their point of view on the Kin so it's probably going to be long because I'm condensing multiple discussion pieces in one, it's gonna be one of them Long Posts)

while the Kin is obviously heavily inspired by the Buryat, including in its language which does contain a lot of Buryat words, but also a lot of not-Buryat words (Yargachin, pointedly incredibly important in the game, is Mongolian directly. as stated above, Yas & Merdrel are also Mongolian), I do not know if I agree that finding the other inspirations is "forgetting that and trying to match them to other cultures". The Kin is not "its own somewhat distinct culture", it is its own, imagined, invented, imaginary culture, which takes inspiration from (/plainly steals) from existing ones. It is an imaginary people with heavy foundational roots, in the same way the town is imaginary with heavy foundational roots, and the disease itself is imaginary with heavy foundational roots. It is obvious the game takes inspiration from the Buryats (and from others), but it also, in the name of storytelling, creates a religion which is almost an inverse of Buryat Tengrism (Tengrism, with Kyuk-Tengri, father-sky-god as head of the pantheon, being, from what i'm understanding, pantheistic [the Main God is in everything, and everything is a manifestation of him], polytheistic [while Tengri is the main one, there is a heap of other gods, goddesses and spirits under/around him, with great importance placed on those spirits [44/55 associated with different things]], and of course with a main head of a father-sky-god; whereas the Kin's religion, with Boddho, a mother-earth-goddess* [whose name seems to relate more to Mongolian], is pantheistic [mother Boddho is in everything and everything is a manifestation of her], monotheistic [she is the only one, the all-mother, all-creatoress] OR duotheistic [her + Bos Turokh are the only deities], and lacking in spirits entirely, which are so important to Tengrism), has an important spiritual caste of women (the Herb Brides) who have no resonance within Altaic/Mongolic/Turkic cultures because no culture has Naked, Dancing Young Pretty Women Whose Sole Job is Dancing For Harvest (some types of goddess-priestesses / witches / oracles have always existed, but the Herb Brides are a distinct, obvious invention, which deserves scruteny. you could argue that they correlates with shamans, but in the text it appears evident that is more the place of Burakh [father, then son], and the Herb Brides directly go against a widespread shamanic practice which is the wearing of many layers made of animal skins, bones, antlers, horns in order to disguise oneself, to wander between worlds, to trick the tricksters, etc), and also like. Worms. "crude", "unfinished". half-man half-dirt.

*the cult of an earth-mother/mother-earth exists in Buryat Tengrism with Umai, because earth-goddesses exist/have existed in most pantheons, especially before the advent of pastoralism; however, she is daughter of Tengri, whereas Boddho is all-mother. Mongolian Tengrism has her be named Etugen, and while she is said to have all control over the natural forces and all living forces be subordinate to her, Kyuk-Tengri is still "above" her, she is the "second highest" after him. the existence of a earth-goddess within two religions does not make them more similar than any others (the Greeks had an earth-goddess, Demeter, with theories that she was there before the advent of the hellenic pantheon as an all-mother... etc etc so on). there is also sources stating that at some point, Tengrist or proto-Tengrist peoples might have worshiped him/a sky-father exclusively or so majoritaly that the other deities were aside, but it could also come from biased or outside sources.

we are also unsure about your claim that the Kin represents the Buryats in "interesting and careful" ways. We do not know of your position wrt indigenity (and it's none of my business specifically, might be the business of those in the group who are indigenous but i'll let them decide if they want to contact you directly) and if you were doing research on the Buryats out of a reconnecting journey or intellectual curiosity/desire and personally feel that the Buryats are respectfully represented in P2 as one, but I have read many other Central Asian Indigenous people in this fandom write, since the release of P2 (and possibly before that about P1, as well as in the discussion we were Just Having about this ^) about how the Kin does not represent them faithfully, or even sometimes just kindly, and the treatment of it and its members being insulting in multiple ways (including the fact that their beliefs and language are a hodgepodge of languages and beliefs that feels to "steal" from multiple sources [=appropriative instead of appreciative] which itself is another discussion, do not represent any real-life religion while obviously being inspired by some, and on other levels just the fact that the Kin's clothes do not resemble the vibrant, intricate, and historically-significant clothing of the Buryats, or any of the peoples they are inspired by. That and the fact that they literally have non-human/in text sub-human members [the Worms]). Most of the discussions around the Kin that i've seen, from Central Asian Indigenous people, recognizes and celebrates the inspirations (plural) while still interrogating how callous, cruel, sexualizing and misogynistic the narrative and metanarrative treatment of the Kin is, a far cry from a "careful and interesting way" of representing the Buryats (or any of the other inspirations).

last thing: I am personally curious as to where/how you've found the "half Chinese" data piece, because I have not been able to find anything of the sort online (doesn't help that my grasp on Russian is nonexistent). I have seen it going around, without a source, and I also have seen (in the tags of this) the data of "1/16 Manchu or Han", which is a far cry from "half-" anything, and not related to Shenekhen Buryats. [deleted the rest to add:]

Dybowski, from his own mouth, is not half-chinese, and the tagger who mentioned it being 1/16 was right: on page 57 of [this interview], he mentions his grandfather's father (so great-grandfather) having married a Chinese woman (when he was 60 and her 20, but that's a whoooole other story), making him 1/16 chinese (possibly Han or Manchu as the tagger mentioned). I do not doubt this informs his view of the world and how he is treated, even if he mentions being "the only one in [his] family who really looks Russian", but it is a far-cry from "half-" anything. that does not change the general discussion i've read for years at this point around the Kin, which is that the inspirations are obvious and should be celebrated, but it is obviously imaginary/invented, and in the hazy lines of imagination lies a treatment of the Kin which is cruel, crude, sexist (more specifically misogynistic), often racist and feels more like appropriation for a morally gray ethnicity that pays lip-service to its inspiration but mistreats it nonetheless rather than full, hearty representation.

great discussion! 👍🫂 i'm genuinely glad we can exchange on this. but what is contained in your reblog is, from what i've seen and read, pretty far from the consensus on the Kin. we all can recognize (and we should appreciate and take good care in handling) the real-life inspirations while still seeing that, in the blurry lines of storytelling and "invention" for the sake of (technically) a ~fantasy~ ethnicity, lies like. a racist mistreatment with appropriative qualities. which i've seen people talk about for years at this point.

the pathologic Kin is largely fictionalized with a created language that takes from multiple sources to be its own, a cosmogony & spirituality that does not correlate to the faiths (mostly Tengrist & Buddhist) practiced by the peoples it takes inspirations from, has customs, mores and roles invented for the purposes of the game, and even just a style of dress that does not resemble any of these peoples', but it is fascinating looking into specifically to me the sigils and see where they come from... watch this:

P2 Layers glyphs take from the mongolian script:

while the in-game words for Blood, Bones and Nerves are mongolian directly, it is interesting to note that their glyphs do not have a phonetic affiliation to the words (ex. the "Yas" layer of Bones having for glyph the equivalent of the letter F, the "Medrel" layer of Nerves having a glyph the equivalent of the letter È,...)

the leatherworks on the Kayura models', with their uses of angles and extending lines, remind me of the Phags Pa Script (used for Tibetan, Mongolian, Chineses, Uyghur language, and others)

some of the sigils also look either in part or fully inspired by Phags Pa script letters...

some look closer to the mongolian or vagindra (buryat) script

looking at the Herb Brides & their concept art, we can see bodypainting that looks like vertical buryat or mongolian script (oh hi (crossed out: Mark) Phags Pa script):

shaped and reshaped...

[scaredpigeons]

More than some stress relief

Blade x Stelle NSFW 18+ MDNI

CW: Stelle asks Blade to spar with her, and unfortunately that results in some unresolved sexual frustration, because c’mon, he’s still a whole ass man. Luckily, mama Kafka steps in to lend a helping hand. (Not her literal hand, she just buys the toy lol) phone sex, mutual masturbation? The fleshlight blade uses is connected to Stelle through the (magical) necklace that was part of the set. (Magical) creampie.

WARNING: Blade is very violent in his descriptions of how he threatens to bone Stelle. If you’re uncomfortable with him saying things along the lines of: —until the carnage is unrecognizable, —until you’re nothing but hot pulp running through my fingers (just to paraphrase loool) please do not read this. Blade is a very broken man, I was really trying to play off his more violent tendencies with this one. Stelle is so fuckin down bad tho (relatable)

If you are 18+, comfortable with some gory descriptors, and willing to read, please continue! Enjoy.

——————————

🐺👾: you want to…. Spar with blade? Are you a masochist or something? Should I be concerned? 

🦝🗑️: shut up 

🦝🗑️: I have this crazy lance and I don’t really want to hurt anyone by practicing with it 

🦝🗑️: I know he’s got that healing thing going on 

🐺👾: 👀 …. 

🐺👾: I’m telling him you called it that 

🦝🗑️: DONT U DARE 

🦝🗑️: JUST PLEASE ASK THE MAN IF HE CAN SPAR WITH ME WITHOUT KILLING ME 

🦝🗑️: AND DON'T TELL HIM IT'S ONLY BECAUSE HES WEIRDLY INDESTRUCTIBLE 

🦝🗑️: I don’t wanna like, offend him or anything. Obvi I don’t want him to get hurt, but like, the off chance I slip up with this thing… he isn’t gonna get murked. You know? 

🐺👾: okay okay I get it, I’ll ask 

🦝🗑️: 😩🩶🩶💯🔥

🐺👾: he agreed. Here’s the coordinates. Have fun, don’t die. 

————

“Thank you for agreeing to this, I really appreciate it!” 

The man in front of Stelle says nothing, only stares as the winds coming off the water pick up loose strands of his hair, making the inky strands flow behind him. 

“You… remember me, right?” Stelle tentatively asks. 

Still nothing. 

“It’s okay if you don’t, we don’t even have to go through with this, I just thought you would be the best person for what I’m—“ 

“I remember you, Trailblazer. My mind is not so far eroded that I’d forget you so easily.” 

His voice is dark, just as raspy as she remembers it. She has to clench her teeth to suppress a shudder. If March could hear her thoughts, she’d blush and squeal, smacking her arm in scandal. If Dan Heng could hear her thoughts… he’d institutionalize her immediately. 

This man is dangerous. Incredibly dangerous. Stelle had to lie about where she was going just so no one would try to talk her out of it. 

Danger always pulled at something inside her though, that nasty, deranged thing inside her that craved violence and adrenaline. She figured it was a side effect of hosting a stellaron inside her body, but man— did this guy make her wish she could have something else inside her body too.

 *Wink wink*

Aeons. She’s such a fucking simp. If it wouldn’t make her look bat shit insane, she’d smack herself right now just to get her shit together. 

“Oh…” she said instead. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

An awkward pause lingered between them, and she found herself thinking that maybe she was standing a bit too close to him, despite there being at least two feet between them. 

“Are you… doing well? The last time I saw you, Kafka was… helping you feel better.” She said hesitantly. 

It could’ve been her imagination, but she swore that the furrow of his brow softened ever so slightly. 

“We’re not here to discuss such trivial matters.” His voice was harsh nonetheless. 

“Right, right.” Stelle said, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly. “So, how do we do this?” 

Blade summoned his sword, dragging his fingertips across the edge before spreading the tainted blood across the flat of it, causing the cracked blade to glow and radiate with unnatural power. 

“It is not your time or place to die here, so luckily for you, I will show restraint.” 

—————

Stelle could tell Blade was holding back, true to his word. 

Any flames she created were either quelled by his winds, or overfanned by his elemental power to the point that they grew too dangerous for the environment around them, or even Stelle herself. 

She found that with her control over the lance, she could call forth and dissipate her fires at will, so the damage to herself was minimal. 

She worried that if the flames grew too large, she’d lose control over them— but every time, she willed them away and they would flicker out, leaving charred shrubbery and stone in their wake. 

Didn’t mean they weren’t hot as shit though.  

The first time she’d used the lance, the freezing temperatures of Jarilo XI dulled just how hot her new weapon could become. 

But now, well she couldn’t tell if her sweat was from the flames or just how hard her opponent was pushing her. 

He was toying with her, clashing together brutally before jumping away and circling her like a hawk. 

He was resistant to her taunts, though keeping up with him left little room for her to pause long enough to think of something to say. 

He seemed completely at ease though, the violence in his eyes and the murderous grin doing nothing to help the degenerate part of her brain that was screaming and crying and throwing up at the opportunity to observe him like this up close, without Dan Heng around to make her feel guilty for admiring this man so much. 

Her arms grew heavy, and she’d not even made him sweat, let alone injure him in any way. 

She knew that the lack of true danger was causing her to remain at a reasonable power level, flash backs to the Herta space station incident making her shudder. 

She was really no match for him in this kind of situation. 

He lunged for her again, and this time, she was too tired to react properly. She parried his strike, but missed the signs of his next move, getting her feet swiped out from beneath her as he tackled her to the ground. His sword stabbed into the dirt just beside her head as he landed on top of her, effectively straddling her as he pinned her with his intense gaze. 

Her eyes flitted back and forth between his as her breath heaved in her chest, her heart racing as she struggled to right herself after being disoriented so badly. 

Something in his expression shifted, and instead of murderous amusement, his gaze seemed… hungry. 

He leaned closer, ever so slowly, and continued staring at Stelle so intently it made her do something so embarrassing she knew she would never live it down. 

She whimpered. 

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he was gone. 

He pulled away from her and disappeared within the same breath, leaving her lying there in the dirt as she caught her breath. 

She ran her hands over her face. “Well fuck.” 

—————

🐺👾: what did you do to him? 

🦝🗑️: ??????? 

🐺👾: last week. When the two of you sparred, did something happen? 

🦝🗑️: ….

🦝🗑️: why 

🐺👾: ever since he got back he’s been fucking pouting. 

🐺👾: well, I mean pouting in the way that blade does. It’s more of a scowl than anything else, but I’ve known him long enough to differentiate between his various types of frowns. 

🦝🗑️: … nothing happened. We fought. I lost, obviously. But no one was hurt or anything. 🙃 everything’s totally normal 

🐺👾 added Kafka🕷️💕 to the chat

🐺👾: Kafka, what’s she hiding? 

Kafka🕷️💕: some sexual tension, most likely. 

🦝🗑️: …. -_- 

🦝🗑️: mother, why hast thou forsaken me????

 Kafka🕷️💕: nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetie. 

Kafka🕷️💕: Bladie may be a tragic creation of the abundance, but his body was once human. It wouldn’t be a far stretch to say that some of the more… human tendencies of a man may still linger within him. 

🐺👾: F

🦝🗑️: F 

🐺👾: so you’re saying he’s pouting and kicking shit because he’s sexually frustrated? That’s fuckin nasty. 

🐺👾: @🦝🗑️ you need to fix this. I don’t wanna look at him sulk anymore 

🦝🗑️: me?!!?!? Tf am I supposed to do??? How is this my fault??? 

🐺👾: you fought him and now he’s horny. Fix it. 

🦝🗑️: … bruh 

Kafka🕷️💕: I don’t think the traditional way of solving this problem will be the best idea, silver wolf. 🤭

🐺👾: wym? 🤨

Kafka🕷️💕: I don’t think it’s safe right now for our little trailblazer and Bladie to get together on a more intimate level… he’s still a bit unstable mentally. 

🦝🗑️: you let me fight this man while hES UNSTABLE 

🐺👾: heh. L 

Kafka🕷️💕: fighting is what he knows. It’s what comes natural to him these days. Emotions? Not so much. 

🦝🗑️: I mean… I’m always down to help anyone whenever I can

🐺👾: *tucks hair behind ear* “i’M aLwAys DoWn tO HeLP aNyONe WHeNeVEr I cAn”

🦝🗑️: BRO FIGHT ME 

🐺👾: no thanks, I have better ways to waste my time 

🦝🗑️: ENGAGE ME IN A BATTLE OF FISTICUFFS RN 

🦝🗑️: IM ALWAYS DOWN TO HELP BUT USUALLY I GET NICE REWARDS TOO 

🐺👾: heh… you want a nice reward for this one too? 

🦝🗑️: I STTA ILL COME FIND UR LITTLE HOLOGRAM AND SMACK THE SHIT OUTTA YOU 

🐺👾: wtf does stta stand for you heathen 

Kafka🕷️💕: ooh! She’s used this one with me before. It’s “swear to the aeons.” Cute, right? 

🐺👾: 🙄 

🐺👾 has left the chat

Kafka🕷️💕: I think I have an idea on how you can help, if you’re open to it. 

🦝🗑️: …

🦝🗑️: what do I need to do? 

———

“Stelle sweetie!” Himeko knocked on her cabin door. “You have a package here.”

Stelle nearly slipped as her sock feet slid along the smooth floor of her room in her haste to reach the door. 

She tumbled along gracelessly and threw open her door, huffing as she took the package from Himeko. 

A box, about five hands wide and three hands deep, wrapped in plain brown paper, with a little card tapped on and slathered with all the necessary postage. 

“Thank you!” Stelle said hastily, reaching for her door. 

“Wait—“ Himeko put a hand to the door shaft, stepping forward a bit with worry in her eyes. 

Stelle cringed a bit, looking up at Himeko and trying to hide the shame she felt creeping up the back of her neck. 

“Listen,” Himeko started, eyeing the little card on the package with Stelles name written in pretty, looping letters. “I know you and that stellaron hunter have some strange connection that we aren’t sure about, and I know you’re unsure too, but I just want you to be careful, okay?” 

It took a solid two panicked seconds for Stelle to realize that Himeko was speaking about Kafka, and not the other stellaron hunter she’d so guilty formed a connection with recently. 

When the realization dawned on her, she tucked her package to the side and pulled Himeko into a tender side hug, snuggling into her chest a bit as she usually did. 

“Thank you for worrying about me, Himeko.” Stelle said, pulling away. “It means a lot to me, and I promise I’m being careful. I won’t do anything to jeopardize the safety of anyone on the express.” 

Himeko sighed, smiling as she pulled back too. “I know, I just worry about you. We’re all here to support you through this, you know that.” 

Stelle grinned. “I do, thank you.” 

The red haired woman nodded, smiling still as she said her goodbyes and left Stelle to her own devices. 

She’d never closed and locked her door so quickly before. 

Throwing the package on her bed, she hastily sat beside it and pulled the card from the packaging. 

She took a moment to trace her fingers over the pretty script on the card, before she tore open the envelope and read its contents. 

Stelle, 

Inside this box you’ll find the fun toy I told you about, along with a new shipping label to send it off to Bladie. 

I’m off on my own right now, far away from him, and I figured he’d handle it a lot better if it came from you, and not me. hehe~ 

Also, you’ll find a beautiful little necklace I had added to the set, that’s for you to wear. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time with it. 

Thinking fondly of you always, 

K 

Stelle blushed a little, Kafka was always saying the strangest things. She tucked the card away in her nightstand and gently pried open the package, not wanting to tear the postage stamps. 

Inside was indeed the… thing that she was told about, and she blushed furiously while looking at the nondescript white box, though the size and shape was very indicative of what was inside.

She pulled the new shipping label out, looking at the address inquisitively and realizing she had no idea where Blade even was, not recognizing the planet. 

She sat it aside and pulled out the other small box inside, opening it up and finding a rather beautiful blue choker necklace. The colour was reminiscent of her garter, and she smiled, happily pulling the gift from its box and wrapping it around her slender throat. 

It clicked nicely in the back, and fit perfectly. She smiled, patting it and thinking about how it was such a thoughtful gift, however strangely unrelated. Then again Kafka was a bit of an enigma regardless, so who knows what her thought process was when putting these two together. 

Stelle closed up the box, slapping the new shipping label over the old one and eyeing it as it sat in the middle of her bed. 

Fuck, I should probably write him a letter, some kind of explination so he doesn’t just throw it away without opening it. 

She scurried to her desk, pulling out a very cutesy animal themed stationary set that March had gifted her after their mission on Jarilo XI. 

The envelopes and cards were soft blue, covered in cute little bunnies and bears and what Stelle thinks are pink raccoons, surrounded with hearts and little stars. 

She laughed at the idea of Blade handling such delicate paper, and got to writing a quick note on her desk.

Hey, 

Don’t hate me, but SW was complaining about your… mood lately, and I thought this might help. I totally fuckin get it, trust me, I understand. Traveling with a group of people that’s more like family than anything else can really put a damper on your… personal time. So please take time for yourself, if not for me, then to at least make silver wolf stop complaining to me that you’re moody. 

I look forward to the day you’ll spar with me again. 

-Stelle 

It might’ve been doing a bit too much, but Stelle couldn’t help but feel like the note might help him to be more receptive to the gift. 

Being a bit delusional never stopped her before, so why should it now? 

She slid the card in the envelope and slapped it to the package, picking it up to go and have it delivered. Hopefully she could feel a bit more at peace once it was gone. 

—————

A quick and impatient knock sounded on his room door, pulling him from his deep meditation on the floor. 

“Hey asshole, you’ve got a package.” 

He and Silver Wolf were sent together to fulfill one of Elio’s scripts, and it was a brief period of lull in their respective duties. 

The inn they were staying at wasn’t lavish by any means, but they were discreet, and that’s really all they could hope for. 

Blade released a breath through his nose as he rose from the floor, walking over and opening up his room to find his fellow hunter standing impatiently, tapping her foot on the rough carpet of the hallway. 

Blade hated carpet in the hallways of inns. Always disgusting and ridiculously coloured. 

“Here.” Silver Wolf shoved the box in his hands, her grin was wide, spreading to her eyes which twinkled up at him with the mischief he tried so desperately to avoid. 

“Who could possibly know where we are right now.” He grumbled at her, though she was already turning to leave. 

“I have an inkling, and hopefully the stick falls out of your ass soon.” She laughed maniacally as she waltzed down the hall. “Enjoy!” 

Blade felt his brow scrunch up tight as he eyed the package. The blue envelope tapped into it was terrible to look at, the childish print making him want to throw it away immediately, but the unfamiliar lettering spelling his name across the paper made him pause. 

He brought the package to his bed, sitting down and thumbing open the envelope. 

The contents of the card made his stomach drop and then lurch into his throat. He was ready to run silver wolf through with his sword. 

Calm yourself. 

He took steady breaths, though he was angry, he was also rather curious about what exactly was in the box. 

With a carefulness he didn’t remember he had, he pried open the package to find a smaller white box without any words or indicators of what could be inside. 

He lifted the lid, only to drop it in shock at what lurked within. He knew what that was. He was older than most but he was still a man, and he knew exactly what had been sent to him— what was to help his “mood.” 

He sighed, pinching his temples. He didn’t know whether he wanted to thank silver wolf or strangle her. Either way, he’d be getting some kind of relief today. 

———————

Stelle was eating dinner when she felt the first phantom touch. 

Fingertips, as soft as a whisper, ghosting over her pubic mound and making her stomach dip. 

Her eyes darted around, but everyone else was still enjoying their meal, chatting quietly together with the melody of silverware accompanying their voices. 

She was sat beside Dan Heng tonight, but both of his hands were above the table. 

She leaned back to look at him below the waist, looking to see if he’d manifested his tail and was making a pass at her, or more likely, was absentmindedly flicking it about like he did whenever he took his secondary form. 

But no, he was tailless this evening, and now eyeing her a bit warily as her eyes darted around. 

“You okay?” He murmured, not wanting to bother the others. 

The touch ghosted along her outer labia now, making her drop her fork in shock. 

Everyone was looking at her now, and she felt something pulse around her throat, right where her new necklace rested. 

Her face heated, and she placed her utensils onto her half finished plate before scooting from behind the table. 

“I’m… not feeling the greatest. I think I’m gonna go to bed early, if you all don’t mind.” 

She stood quickly, standing there for a moment as the touches continued, soft and inquisitive. 

“Are you alright?” Welt asked, concerned. “Would you like me to bring you some tea, or medicine?” 

“No!” Stelle jumped, before she caught herself and smiled sheepishly. “I’m alright, just feeling a little off. Probably just need some good sleep. I’ll see you all in the morning?” 

They all nodded, watching her go with worried eyes, but letting her leave without more questioning, which she was so grateful for. 

As soon as she made it to her room, she felt the first touch swipe through her core, and she nearly keened. 

Her throat pulsed, the necklace weakly glowing in the dark of her room. 

Her body felt hot. She was embarrassed at the amount of wetness that was pooling in her underwear, but most importantly, she was so fucking confused at what was going on. 

Something wet and blunt prodded at her entrance, and her knees buckled as she locked her door. 

She nearly crawled to her bed as her choker pulsed and pulsed with a weak glow, and the blunt thing, which felt suspiciously like a pair of fingers, finally slipped inside her, curiously prodding around, as if feeling her out. 

She slapped a hand over her mouth as she squeezed around the phantom digits, their touch lingering at her g spot with ridiculous precision. The fingers withdrew and she breathed a sigh of relief, though it was short lived as something much, much larger prodded itself at her entrance. 

Her eyes widened, and she scrambled to pull Kafkas card from her bedside drawer. 

“you’ll find a beautiful little necklace I had added to the set, that’s for you to wear. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time with it. “

Stelle hadn’t realized what those words meant at the time, but as the blunt head of a ridiculously sized phallic object pushed at her hole, the meaning slapped her in the face like a rouge automaton. 

Her back arched off the bed as the phantom cock pushed into her, and she choked on a moan as it buried itself deep within her. She was so ridiculously wet she wanted to cry, and knowing who was on the other end of this feeling made her eyes roll back into her head. 

The thrusts started slow, but slowly worked their way up to something more intense, almost violent. Her insides churned, and she felt the telltale signs of an orgasm building up so quickly she might scream. 

No, no no no. She scrambled, reaching for the necklace, but when her fingers reached the latch, the thrusts changed angles, pounding directly into her g-spot and she cussed into the dark of her room. 

Her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave, crashing into her and seeping deep into her bones. It was the first actually satisfying orgasm she’d had in an incredibly long time. 

Her fingertips shook as they lingered on the necklace a moment, before she threw them back to her sheets, gripping them tightly as the thrusts continued. 

Fuck, this feels too good.

Through the post orgasm fog, she wondered if he knew. 

Did he know it was connected to her? 

She suddenly felt overcome with guilt. If he didn’t know, this felt a little like taking advantage of his struggles. If he did know, then she wanted to hear him say it out loud, that he knew exactly what he was doing to her. 

She wanted him to hear exactly what he was doing to her. 

With shaking hands and twitching thighs, she slapped around her bed for her phone, biting her lip through the pleasure to scroll through her contacts. 

It was nearly at the bottom, and the last time it was used was a hack of Silver Wolf’s, and Kafkas words, not his own. But she had to try regardless. 

She clicked the call button, bringing her phone to her ear as she bit back moans. 

Suddenly, the thrusting within her stopped, though the phantom cock remained buried within her. 

She gasped as the ringing came to a halt as the line picked up.

There was no answer, though she swore she could hear his breathing, just a bit heavier than usual. 

“Don’t… don’t stop.” She whispered. 

She thought she heard his breath catch in his throat. She definitely heard the swallow before he spoke. 

“What are you talking about.” His gravelly voice reverberated through the phone, and she felt the cock inside her move ever so slowly, in and out. 

She bit her lip. “I didn’t know at first, I swear.” Her thoughts were scrambled as the soft thrusts continued, and the knowledge that he was actively fucking himself with the toy while she spoke make her stomach jump in pleasure. 

“You didn’t know what?” He said, voice low and nearly at a whisper. 

“It’s… we’re… we’re connected.” 

The toy stopped, and she sucked in a breath of relief, hoping to gather her thoughts so she could properly explain herself. 

Suddenly a moan was ripped from her chest as his cock thrust into the toy with vigor, and his intense pace was picked back up tenfold. 

She tried to hide it, but the damage was done, and if he didn’t know before, he certainly did now as he listened to her whine and whimper through the phone. 

“I thought the inside felt far too realistic.” He growled. “You’re squeezing me so tight, little Nameless.” 

She gasped, his voice along with the stimulation was far too much, and another orgasm was quickly approaching. 

She tried to play it off like she wasn’t being fucked within an inch of her life though. 

“Yeah well, it’s… been a while since I’ve gotten any action, s-so forgive me for being a little tense.” She stammered. 

He switched his thrusts to hard and deep, so hard Stelle could nearly feel the sensation of his hips hitting hers, and she’s almost positive the fat of her lower half would be rippling in the recoil if he were actually here. 

“I knew as soon as I saw you that you were just a needy hole begging to be filled.” Blade said, voice deep and oh so condescending. 

Stelle fisted the sheets, her eyes nearly rolling into her skull as her needy moans slipped through clenched teeth. He was right, he was so right— but that didn’t mean she needed to concede so easily. 

“That’s bold talk…” she hissed, biting her lips until they felt raw. “…For someone who literally ran away from m-me as soon as his blood traveled south.”  

His dark laugh made her squeeze around him, and she knew he could feel it because the laugh trickled off into a deep groan that set her face on fire. She felt like her fingertips were alight with electricity, like her body was attempting to defy the artificial gravity on the express as she arched off her sheets. 

The pounding within her never faltered as he continued speaking his vile, filthy words at her. 

“You’re lucky I did, little Nameless.” She could almost imagine his murderous grin, the violence that vibrated through his voice was astounding. “If I had stayed I would have fucked you until not even your beloved crew would have been able to recognize the carnage I’d left behind.”

She couldn’t stop the noise that flew from her throat, a guttural keening that had her gripping her cellphone in embarrassment as he laughed once more. 

“Oh?” He teased, voice edged with gravel and venom. “You must be desperate to enjoy the idea of me fucking you until you’re nothing but hot pulp slipping through my fucking fingers.”

Oh she was so desperate, so fucked. If anyone else had said something so absolutely horrifying, she’d have run far, far away. 

“Does the rest of the express crew know how fucking depraved you are?” His thrusts seemed to pick up speed, which would’ve seemed nearly impossible, except she couldn’t exactly think at the moment, only sob as they slammed against that spot inside her over and over again until she felt herself slipping slowly. 

“Do they know that their precious little star wants to be fucked by a monster?” He snarled, and she cried out into the soft light of her room, thrashing around as her orgasm teased its way at her— but she was holding it back, why, why?

“Please,” she gasped. “Please, can I—“ oh, she thought distantly. Oh I’m so fucked up. 

Blade groaned, the slick sounds of him thrusting into the toy ringing in her ear. “So desperate, so polite. You really are something else.”

She keened, arching her back as the feeling licked at her further, so close to toppling over the edge.

“Go on then,” Blade whispered darkly. “Cum for me.” 

It crashed over her, more powerful than anything she could remember feeling. It pulsed through her in quick waves, so strong and violent as he just kept going. 

It started to dance into sickly sweet overstimulation as she heard his breath quicken, and she steadied her breath, wanting to savor this moment. 

“You know,” she breathed. “I’m a lot tougher than you think.”

His breath stuttered, his pace faltering ever so slightly. 

“I could take it,” she whispered. “I don’t think you’d hurt me in any way I didn’t want you to.” 

He faltered, and she heard him cuss under his breath through the phone.

“Yeah?” He whispered. “You’d take what I give you?”

She nodded at her ceiling, knowing he couldn’t see her, but her mind was too foggy with brutal pleasure to think straight. He was undoing her. 

“Every disgusting, violent, nasty thing you’d give me Blade,” she said, clutching the sheets as tears welled behind her eyes, praying he was almost finished but simultaneously never wanting it to end. “I’d take it so well for you, and I’d thank you for it.” 

“Fuck.” Blade moaned, deep and guttural, and his thrusting seized inside her. Much to her shock, she could feel the warmth of him filling her up, pump and after pump of him coating her insides. 

They both lay there, staring at their ceilings and breathing heavily over the phone, not speaking but not really wanting to anyways. 

Finally, once the breath returned to her lungs unlaboured, she felt him pull himself from the toy. 

She felt like she’d been hollowed out, like a crater had been formed where her insides should be, and without him there plugging her up—-her guts would fall out and she’d be left empty. 

He made a confused noise, and just as he did she felt the telltale squelch of cum slipping from her still twitching insides, and she groaned in frustration. 

“Well then,” he chuckled, softer now than before— almost a forbidden sound. “That makes cleaning up easier for me.” 

She smacked her hand over her face. “This is the weirdest toy ever invented, and I'm going to cry the next time I have to face Kafka.” 

“I figured this had something to do with her,” he said, shuffling noises heard from his end of the line. “She can never stay out of my business for too terribly long, unfortunately.” 

“Mine too it seems.” Stelle sighed. She smiled when he made a neutral sound of agreement. 

“You sound like you’re in a better mood.” She said, uncaring of the consequences.

“Well, before I realized what this really was, I was just hoping to release some inconvenient pent up energy.” He said, voice flat. “But I suppose doing it this way has added benefits. I’m no fool, I understand how the human brain works.”

“So this… helped you?” Stelle asked tentatively. 

He sighed. “I’d be lying if I said it was entirely useless.” 

Stelle smiled, stroking the choker around her throat, the delicate glow now completely faded. 

“I’ll keep my end of the connection on, it's simple enough. Just call me next time, okay? I don’t need to embarrass myself at dinner again.”

“I make no such promises.” She thought she heard the faintest of smiles in that last sentence before the line went dead.  

[kerokerokook]

the rebound girl: chapter two

pairing: nerd pro-gamer jeongguk x reader

word count: 25.5k wtf

warnings for this chapter: oc just goes for it, jeongguk is hot as usual, lots of kissing, finally some smut, first time, virgin jk!, subby jk! with dom! reader at first but that changes, oral (m. receiving), oral fixation, fingering, jeongguk does the lower stomach trick from tiktok (iykyk), he's a little shit but it's okay.

other tags: lots of overthinking, oc goes back and forth a whole bunch (she's confused and hurt ok), jeongguk is a giant MF green flag (obvi), vmin and 2yeon being chaotically gay ofc, some brief physics mentioned, a bit of angst, oc has been hurt in her teen years.

a/n: sorry this took 9 million years but ya girl just got into her masters program!! hopefully, i can update this once/twice a month? maybe even more but, that's the plan!

enjoy :)

<3 mal

original post

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The first day of school hit you in the face like a speeding fourteen-wheel truck. 

Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration because you’ve known the date since the beginning of summer break but time flew by so quickly that you couldn’t believe September was starting and another school year was too. 

Soon, you’ll graduate and get a job and move on from all of the shit you’ve gone through to become a whole adult. It’s terrifying yet exciting all at once. 

Fortunately, you picked out your outfit last night: baggy blue jeans, a white cropped tank top and an oversized black corduroy button up shirt. It’s simple and comfy which you always prefer for school outfits. Simple gold jewelry sits on your neck and in your ears and you keep your hair back with a clear claw clip. You keep your makeup light, being that you’ll be back home in a few hours where you’ll just slip back into your pajamas and do nothing for the rest of the day.

While packing your things, you make sure to tuck Jeongguk’s t-shirt that you’ve washed and his umbrella into your backpack, then give Snowball her last few pets for the day while checking her food and water bowl. 

“I’ll be back in a few hours cutie,” you coo, scratching underneath her chin. Her head tilts up, a content smile on her cute face, eyes shut while pushing into your touch.

Adopting Snowball sort of just happened. You were lonely last Winter break after a guy you met in your Economic Growth Seminar had moved on and your mom was talking about how your neighbor’s cat just had a litter of kittens. Thankfully, your landlord was okay with pets and boom, there was a little fluff ball making your day better little by little. After a long day, there was nothing you liked doing more than stroking her soft fur and listening to music or throwing a movie on while she purrs right next to you. She’s a great comfort to you and your friends love her too.

Tearfully, you rip yourself away from your little baby and step outside of your comfortable apartment. The hallway is empty at this time. Your building has mostly college students and a few bachelors and bachelorettes here and there so it’s surprising that no one else is walking out at the same time as you. But that’s fine. No polite greetings necessary. You put your headphones in, play some music and begin your trek to school. 

Living one subway ride away from university is a privilege. It never takes you that long to get to class and it’s easy to get back home. It’s the best thing about living here. 

Plus in the springtime, the blossoms decorate the streets with little pink petals and it’s a sight to see. 

On the way down the subway steps, you check your schedule once more just to be sure of your class load today. You have a 9am lecture, then an 11:30am lecture and then a discussion at 1:45 but those only start the second week of school every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you have classes from 8am-3pm which sounds like ass now that you think about it. 

Fuck, were you drunk when you selected these courses? 

You shake your head. Whatever, not like there’s much you can do now, right? At least you’ll be busy so less time to mess around. 

Your walk down the steps continues and you shove your phone into your jean pocket as you rush over to make the train before your first class, taking out your metro-card.

After dodging some lethargic businessmen and starstruck tourists, you manage to reach the train with a few seconds to spare. There’s a towards the back so you quickly walk over and grab the handle when there’s a vibration against your ass. 

Confused, you pull your phone out. It’s probably a tiktok sent to you by Jeongyeon of a cat with a funny filter on or something but the screen shows the message icon and you use FaceID to unlock your phone to see who the sender was.

It’s a text from Jeongguk. 

jeon jeongguk

hey

do you want to give me the stuff outside the engineering building?

maybe around 1? 

by stuff i mean my shirt and umbrella

You smile to yourself. The fact that he felt the need to explain what he meant by stuff is unbelievably adorable to you. 

me 

sure, i’ll be there :) 

You almost wonder what Jeongguk’s schedule is like but you stop yourself quickly. You tried to not to think too much about him on Sunday when you got back. It was enough that his sweet smelling shirt was on your body and you still had the lingering imprint of his hug on your skin but now that you know he  goes to the same school, you’ll become more interested and you can’t. Jeongguk isn’t going to be the next boy to occupy your mind. 

This year is going to be different. You won’t be the rebound girl anymore, you won’t sleep with guys from your school, and you won’t give in. 

After everything that went down with Wooshik, it’s just better for you to distance yourself from this stupid label of rebound girl. It’s done nothing but hurt you and worsen your relationship with the people in your department. First year you were hanging out and eating with them and now all you have are Nayeon and Jeongyeon. Not that you don’t like them but you just hate what being the rebound girl has done to your college life.

Your mother used to say your college years are your prime years to be young and stupid and learn about life. 

But college is nothing special to you. The classes are harder, people are smarter, meaner, better, and all you can do is push yourself to do the best that you can. Sometimes it’s enough, sometimes it isn’t. Your friends are great and you’ve made some good memories, but so far, college isn’t that coming-of-age life lesson that your mother always talked about. 

You’re not particularly upset about it. You just wished you could do more. Live your life without eyes all over you and whispers at every mistake. 

As the train lets you off at your spot, you make sure to triple check your schedule for the day so you know where you’re going after your first class. 

9am is your Macroeconomics lecture in the Economics building which is fine. Your professor is nice and the class seems interesting enough that you know you’ll do well. Mostly test based which won’t be a problem because economics is your thing. You’ve been studying it diligently for three years now so you can confidently say that. 

But 11:30 is your worst nightmare: physics. 

This is all your fault. Nayeon told you to get all of your general education requirements out of the way quickly your first and second year so that you wouldn’t have to worry about them later but you didn’t listen. 

Look, science is simply not your thing. High school courses were hell on earth thanks to your asshole of a Chemistry teacher. You managed to gaslight yourself into thinking math was easy enough as long as you studied like a mad person and got those requirements out of the way but science is hell on earth for you. Your university requires one life science and two physical sciences. Life science was an easy choice: zoology. You got to learn about cute animals and watch videos about them. First semester of your first year was easy. 

Then you decided to take Geology for physical science during your second semester. It sounded easy but memorizing all of those different rock formations was starting to wear you out from the inside. Somehow you managed a B. And after that, it was either meteorology, astronomy, or some form of physics since every other course required you to be enrolled in the Physical Sciences department or have some prerequisite that you didn’t want to take. None of the options sounded appealing to you so you put it off until now. Then, when the realization hit that you had only one more year after this to make up for all of those credits, you decided astronomy might be the best choice after reading some professor reviews. 

Only for you to sleep through registration and wake up in a frenzy to find the class completely full. 

Yeah, you almost started crying.

So physics it was and, how wonderful, the only class available was with an unlikeable teacher that has a horrible rating. Amazing. 

Panic floods your system as you walk into the large lecture hall. You aim for a seat in the middle, take out your supplies, and start diligently listening. Your professor is a stout, sad, little man who is trying to improve his professor score online so thankfully, he says he’s going to be more lenient when it comes to tests but demands that homework be turned in on time otherwise points will be deducted. Fair enough. You could do that. 

But then he starts going into course material. 

Energy; alright. 

Motion; cool. 

Thermodynamics; okay.

Optics; excuse me?

Electromagnetism; sound the alarms. 

This class is going to kill you. Even if it’s Physics 1 and your class is filled with mostly underclassmen, you know you won’t grasp the concepts easily with all of your other classes weighing down on your head. There’s so much to do and so little time to do it all. 

“.. previous students of mine have so graciously offered tutoring hours so if any of you are confused, I highly recommend meeting up with them and going over concepts. They have taken my tests before so they know what to expect. It is the best way to ensure you do well.”

Most of the students behind you have gone to sleep or started scrolling through their phones but you have a lightbulb moment. 

Perfect, okay. All you have to do is check the list of tutors online and schedule appointments with them. Shouldn’t be that bad.  Another thing to be strict about. 

This is just what you wanted: a tight enough schedule to keep you too busy to think about anything else.

Once class is over, you pack all of your things and check your phone once more. Jeongguk said he’d be outside the engineering building which is close to the physical sciences building. The time reads 12:50pm so you have some time to make your way outside. 

So far, the first day has ended and it’s gone pretty well. You’ll go back home, create a strict study table on your Notion, rent all of your books and then relax for the rest of the day. Then the rest of this week should be smooth sailing as you get into the groove with your new professors. Nayeon and Jeongyeon are going to meet you at your place for home-cooked dinner this Friday( a little first week back tradition) which you’re excited for.  You should look up some recipes and make sure Nayeon stays out of your kitchen so she won’t blow anything up. That girl is incapable of not making a disaster in the kitchen. 

You sigh through your nose, studying the sights you see on campus. Various students walking in small triplets or duos. The occasional lone wolf with headphones on to block out the world. Some clubs are putting up posters or setting up tables to grab first years as they explore campus. The path that is currently running outside the STEM buildings break off into various courtyards and cafes where students of all departments come to chill or cut through to go to their other classes. 

It’s about to be a great scenic walk just until you run into Wooshik and his buddies as they’re exiting a café with drinks in their hands. 

Kill me now. 

You pause like a deer in headlights when you make eye contact with him, stopping midway so your lips can part as your entire body goes stuff. 

Now, more than anything, you really wish you were walking with someone. 

“Hey,” Wooshik forces out, crossing his arms over his chest. His polo shirt is open enough to show a random cluster of dark hickeys from the middle of his throat to the beginning of his chest. Real subtle. 

Before seeing that, you were thinking about apologizing but now, not so much. 

“Hi,” your tone is short. You can feel eyes dance over your body, the swell of your breasts and the sliver of skin revealed between your crop top and pants from one of his creepy pals behind him and you have half a mind to kick him in the balls. 

Wooshik’s eyes bounce back and he juts his face forward like he’s waiting for you to say something to him but you keep your lips perfectly sealed. If he wants an apology, he can wait until he’s dead. His other friends exchange weird looks at the lack of conversation going on between you two, probably wondering if this standoff is going to linger forever. 

It makes you wonder what Wooshik told them. 

Guys love having their ego fluffed. If they get rejected by a girl, they’ll tell their best friends that she was an ugly slut or they’ll flip the story to say that they rejected her to save face. The last thing they want their friends to know is that a girl rejected them. It dims their coolness. However, you really don’t give a fuck about Wooshik looking cool in front of his boys. If anything, you revel in the cutting deflation he’ll feel when you tell them the truth. 

“Did you get the wine out of your shirt?” You ask innocently. “I should’ve aimed it more towards your face and less towards your clothes.” Shrugging, a satisfied smile grows on your lips. 

Wooshik’s ears turn red. “I–” he cuts eye contact as his friends snicker behind him. You watch in satisfaction as his expression changes from surprised to annoyed to angry. “You know what, fuck you. You ruined my shirt. I had to take that hot waitress back to my place instead of a hotel so I didn’t reek of wine.”  

You scoff immediately. “Damn and I was trying to do her a favor. But congrats, looks like you got your tiny dick wet for two minutes.” You start to clap. One of his friends chokes back a splutter of laughter at the jab. 

Wooshik wasn’t anything amazing but you sort of expected that. Most of your hookups are satisfactory. They get the job done and they give up. As stupid as it sounds, you’ve always gone above and beyond to pleasure someone. There’s something amazing about making your partner feel good but most men see sex in a selfish lens. 

For most guys, sex means sticking their dick in and sloshing it around a few times until they feel good. Boom, sex over. 

Now, if they want to make you feel good, it still won’t be about you. Orgasms are like points. They don’t get off on your pleasure but more on the fact that they’re so amazing at sex that you experienced pleasure. Another way to fluff their egos. 

For once, you’d wish for a guy to actually care about you and your pleasure in an unselfish way, the same way you do for them. 

Wooshik stumbles for a moment but he jumps back quickly to get you too. Especially with all of his boys watching. 

“You didn’t seem to complain about it at first. What, changed your mind because I didn’t want you anymore?” 

Oh, please. A plastic vibrator has done more for you than he ever will. 

You laugh sardonically. “No, I just felt bad for you.” You say it wholeheartedly and it's the most truthful you’ve ever been with him. 

His friends then burst into giggles and snickers, shoving him around when he fails to retort, left dumbfounded by the sheer audacity of you but you don’t care. You don’t get to see the look on Wooshik’s face but you don’t care. The laughter is your cue to leave him. 

 That chapter of your life is over now and you won’t ever have to deal with him again. The last man you’ll let trample all over you the minute you show them some sympathy. 

All you can hope is that the pesky nickname that’s been poisoning you since your first year college can fade away into obscurity forever and ever. 

Then, you can just be you. No label, no nickname, no reputation. Just a regular college senior. 

The walk to the engineering building is lighter now. You feel like one of the falling petals gently flying through the sky from the branch down to the ground. A new journey begins and you can’t wait for it. 

After another minute of walking, you reach the engineering building. Painted a soft brown with tons of posters and clubs waiting to talk to students. You dodge all of them to head inside where Jeongguk is waiting by a random classroom. You navigate through the crowd until you finally locate a  mop of gorgeous dark hair and bright clear eyes. 

He’s facing his phone screen, one leg crossed over the other, but you’re still mesmerized by him. Beauty is in simplicity but with a face like that, Jeongguk could wear a burlap sack and make it work. But currently, he’s dressed in baggy gray cargos and a dark blue long-sleeve shirt with some brand name logo on it. The urge to sigh like a satisfied cartoon character is intense. 

You hate and love it at the same time. How on earth can he look so boyfriend without trying? 

“Hey, Jeongguk,” you call softly, taking short strides towards him, hoping that your hair looks good and not like a frizzy mess from the wind. 

His head pops up, glimmering eyes like two black pools of water gazing back at you. Then a soft grin forms on his lips, skin creasing, dimpling, and cute. 

“Hey.” Jeongguk tucks his phone into his pants pocket. His perfume wafts over to you the moment he moves, welcoming you like a warm hug after a long day. 

You want to bury your nose in it and never forget the smell. 

“Sorry, I got caught up with something on the way here. Were you waiting for a while?”

“Nah, I’ve been here for like two minutes. Did you bring it?” He adjusts his bag for a moment. 

“Yep.” You hand him the shirt, neatly folded and smelling of your fabric softener, along with the umbrella tied. “All clean.” A cute smile grows on his face as he gently takes the items and puts it in his bag, humming excitedly under his breath which makes your entire body warm. “Listen, are you off for the rest of the day?” 

“Yeah, I have all morning classes on Mondays and Wednesdays. You?”  

“Same and it just so happens that I needed a walking buddy to the subway station.”  You take the first step towards the exit when he agrees with a short chuckle and a nod. Your apartment building is one stop away while Jeongguk is about four stops away so you won’t get to talk much but the sentiment is what matters. 

Plus, all you really want is to be close to him and his family again. There was a real bond going on when you were young and now you’ve been handed a golden chance to reignite that spark. 

Fresh air fills your lungs while your ears pick up on the sounds of fading conversations, the smell of food and new school supplies greets your nose. You have yet to reach the economics building, where more people know you, so people here aren’t staring just yet. They’re preoccupied with their own lives and you want to appreciate it for a little longer. 

“By the way, thanks for Saturday. I’m sure dealing with five drunk weirdos must’ve been annoying,” you add. 

You barely remember the words coming out of your mouth. It was a slew of garbled song lyrics, high thoughts and giggles and that’s the best you can do. There’s no way Jeongguk was walking out of the night sane.  

He huffs out a laugh and then shakes his hair out of his eyes in a very attractive manner. “It was… well, it was something, I’ll tell you that much. But you don’t have to apologize. I don’t mind.” Then Jeongguk looks at you with his chin tilted down, lids low, almost glazed over like he’s checking you out but his gaze just dances over the features of your face. 

You get incredibly shy with him staring at you like that. 

Let’s hope you aren’t turning tomato red right now. 

“Jimin and Tae go out a lot so I’m used to making sure they don’t, like, die.” 

Jeongguk is like Jeongyeon in that sense. Always taking care of people and making sure they are safe in bed before worrying about themselves. Sometimes, she forgets that she’s allowed to have fun and let loose too and you don’t want Jeongguk to fall into the same mindset. Being the caretaker all the time can be draining. 

“I mean, it’s your birthday and the rest of us were getting fucked up. Usually, it’s the other way around.” 

Your 20th was nothing short of a hot mess. Nayeon snuck in bottles she got her older brother to buy and you tried to take a shot from every single type he brought. Whiskey, vodka, soju, sake, and beer. Safe to say, that was a rookie mistake that ended up hunched over a toilet bowl  for almost an hour. Nayeon held your hair while Jeongyeon ordered just enough carbs and hangover soup to make it all better. 

But it was a memory you hold dear to you because it was one of the last moments you felt like it was okay for you to be a stupid teenager and make a mistake.

Jeongguk didn’t get that moment and you want him to because that sloppy behavior won’t be cute when he’s in his late 20s or early 30s. 

“I didn’t want to,” he shrugs simply. “Drinking is sorta fun but I don’t love it and I never let myself get super drunk.” You want to ask why but Jeongguk continues speaking. “But we had cake and barbecue before coming to the club and my parents sent a care package, so it was a good birthday. Taking care of you guys didn’t ruin everything.” 

You relent a little. Perceptions of fun are different after all and maybe, for Jeongguk, he got exactly what he wanted so he isn’t complaining. The residual guilt fades slowly inside of you.

“As long as you enjoyed your birthday,” you sigh, a wave of something sentimental coming over you causes your heels to raise up so you can be tall enough to ruffle his fluffy perfect hair. The same boy who only dressed in Pokémon shirts is now legal, old enough to do whatever he wants, and you’re starting to feel a little soft about it. “Can’t believe you’re twenty!” You squeal. “You’re all grown up!” 

Jeongguk cringes, turning away from your constant pinches and prods and whining as a few eyes drift towards the two of you. His ears get the tiniest bit red but he doesn’t scold you so you continue teasing him. 

“Remember when you used to hand draw all of my birthday cards with little cartoons and you and Eunchae would come with my mom and I to look at all of the cakes at the store?”

The filmstrip of memories is painfully nostalgic. That one nice cake store a few streets away from your apartment building that made the best cakes. If you close your eyes, you can smell the sugary air as you walk in, a tinkling bell on the door to let the owners know someone was there, and the various cakes put in the display case. You always got the fudgiest chocolate cake with bright red strawberries on top. Your mom could only afford the small size but that was fine. You just wanted a cake. 

Jeongguk would come with you and press his face to the glass in complete awe. Sometimes, the three of you would pretend like you were rich people who got to buy big cakes whenever they pleased and you’d pick the biggest sizes of your favorite flavors. 

You always got chocolate, Jeongguk got some sort of fruit while Eunchae would get red velvet and you would dream of the day when you had enough money to indulge yourself on a whim. . 

Then, when Jeongguk’s mom opened up her bakery, she began making your birthday cakes so the three of you sort of got your wish but those were free. Made with love and compassion until you moved too far to feel it. 

“You still remember all of that?” He asks. The stone pathway turns. A signal that the economics building is getting closer by the second. 

Trying not to think about it, you answer him. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?” You’ve always had impeccable memory but you treasured every second of your childhood. 

Because your later teens, in Seoul and away from all that you knew, were terrible. 

“I barely remembered what I ate yesterday,” Jeongguk laughs, staring over at you. “That’s pretty impressive.” 

“You think so?” You turn to look at him when you feel his eyes linger for longer than usual. His stare isn’t piercing but it leaves a viable imprint on your skin like a thick layer of lotion. “What?” You get self-conscious. Is there something in your hair? Did a bird shit on you without you noticing? 

“I like your hair,” Jeongguk says after a moment, pointing to the clear clip holding all of your hair up. 

A few of the shorter strands come out from the tight hold with time, framing your face, while the rest remain bunched up with a large claw clip. It’s such an effortless look. This morning you were too lazy to fully style your hair with a hair dryer and a brush after spending too much time on it for your sham date with Wooshik. It’s starting to get a little greasy so you plan to wash it tomorrow but this is your go-to dirty hair look. 

“Oh, thanks.” A goofy grin nearly breaks out onto your face but you stop it halfway. “I like your earrings.” You want to return Jeongguk’s compliment with one of your own. Your pointer finger runs through the three thick hoops like a wind chime, causing Jeongguk’s shoulder to rise up thanks to the ticklish sensation, getting shy. “How on earth did your mom allow all of these piercings?” 

Mrs. Jeon lost her shit when a 14-year-old you greeted her with a second hole in your ears when she was coming home from the grocery store.  An upperclassman offered to pierce everyone’s ears using the nurses supplies in exchange for cigarettes or candy from a nearby convenience store. Since she was your guardian for the day while your mom was out for a certification exam, she felt irresponsible but you assured her that your mom was okay with it. 

Well, she had no idea at the time but you knew she’d get over it at some point. It was a second ear piercing, not like you got a tattoo on your forehead. 

“These were all presents, actually.” Your fingers brush the back of his palm as you get closer to the economics building at the end of the road, a little before the sidewalk down the main road begins, as your dread multiplies. “I learned that from you. Convinced mom and dad that my good grades warranted some award and they had no choice but to say yes.”

A dangerously familiar feeling mixed with pride courses through your veins like the newest drug. Jeongguk says he doesn’t remember much but he manages to reach in and pull out a sickly sweet memory from your childhood that has your insides turning into mush. You almost want to wrap your arms around your stomach to get it to stop flipping so much. 

You didn’t ask for much as a kid. Growing up you knew that money was tight so expensive things like the best console or brand name clothes were simply out of the question. But you liked to barter with your mom for more simple things. A good grade for ice cream or a day at the beach or a trip to the bookstore to buy a manga edition you’ve been waiting to read. 

It wasn’t all the time but when you felt like you wanted to celebrate yourself. You earned it after all. 

Then you got a little older and you wanted to become like the cool older girls you went to school with. So you dropped ice cream for piercings, nail polish, and CDs from all of the new idol groups that were popular at the time. Your mom was frugal of course, most of your stuff was cheap from the local dollar store or second hand markets, but she loved to treat you. She wished she could spoil you one day, buy you everything you could lay your eyes on, however the universe didn’t allow her to do that. 

She still can’t but that’s okay. You’re glad you didn’t grow up a spoiled brat. That you learned humility and patience and empathy because it’s those traits that set you apart from most of your classmates. 

“I taught you well.” Fingers itching to flick his chin, you hold back. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable with all of the touching. 

Jeongguk hums. “Got these and these,” he turns his head to the other side to show you almost five studs in his ear, “after my class rank and CSAT score came out.”  

“Didn’t that hurt?” 

You do your best to keep your eyes either on the ground or on Jeongguk as the almighty building comes into view. Despite the heavy beating in your chest, your inner turmoil shouldn’t be obvious. 

Jeongguk doesn’t need to know about your problems. Those are yours and yours alone. 

“Yeah but it wasn’t unbearable. I swear, Eunchae almost passed out when she got her doubles. She hates needles.” 

You laugh. “I remember. Your sister was freaking out when we were all getting our vaccines because she literally slithered down onto the floor the moment she saw the thing.” 

Jeongguk hums. There’s a small break in the conversation as the two of you pass by a huge yet short wave crowd of people who are either rushing to the cafeteria or to their next class but even through all of that, you can feel eyes all over the two of your backs. Especially yours. 

Your department members linger by the vending machines and smoking areas in little judgmental pods,  whispering about you amongst themselves. 

You can predict what they’re saying. 

There she goes again, latching onto another guy after Wooshik dumped her poor pathetic ass. 

Will she ever learn? 

Poor thing. He probably doesn’t know that he’s dealing with the campus whore. 

That word. That one word, repeats in your mind. Whore, whore, whore. That’s all you’ll ever be to them. 

Fear sets in. What will they say about Jeongguk? Will he get teased? Will he find out about your reputation and want nothing to do with you afterwards? No, the last thing you want is for him to get tangled in all of this. He shouldn’t have to deal with all of this. Know about all of the things people whisper about you when they think you aren’t listening.

At some point, he’ll find out. No matter how hard you try to hide it, push it down, pretend everything is okay, Jeongguk will come to know what everyone thinks of you and all of the nasty vitriol they throw your way. 

And when he does, you’re going to have to learn to let go of whatever you two have right now and whatever builds in your heart until all you have left to cling to Jeongguk are the sweet memories of your life in Busan. 

Because that’s how it goes for you. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Jeongguk stumbles into his apartment and throws his backpack onto his gaming chair, quickly calculating the amount of free time he has right now. 

 He has a group match in about two hours for League of Legends and he plans on canceling on them since he had to wake up early today. Jeongguk’s sleep schedule was fucked up all summer and suddenly, waking up at 6am instead of going to bed around then was quite literally torture. 

There’s no guilt when Jeongguk texts them. He doesn’t owe his teammates anything, not like he’s joined a real league anyways. He has other priorities. 

Now that he’s a student again, his sleep schedule sort of matters. His mother would cry learning about the absolute buffoonery he was committing over summer session with his new league he met online. Playing various games until the sun was peeking through his blinds and then ordering breakfast from McDonald’s while entering another battle. Usually that would entice him but all he feels is exhaustion. 

Most of it is from lugging his heavy ass backpack around all day in the sun. Some of it is still from this weekend. There’s a reason Jeongguk isn’t an avid partier. 

Quickly, he throws whatever pre-packaged dish he bought into the microwave and changes out of his school clothes into some sweatpants and a different shirt. All part of his usual after school routine. Then he carefully takes the steaming plate out once it’s done and sets it on the counter to cool before going to the bathroom to wash his hands. 

As he walks through his hall, something presses into the soles of his feet. It’s soft but flexible and round with a hard plastic bit strung onto it that digs into his skin.

“Ouch!” He stops midway, moving his foot and staring at the mystery item. Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow at first. 

It looks like one of Taehyung’s many charm bracelets that he buys from those street vendors in Hongdae with the cute little charms around colored string. Jeongguk has one from him ( a black string with a baby pink bunny charm that he wears every now and then). The idiot probably dropped it while singing karaoke or doing his Scarface impersonation to make Jimin laugh. Jeongguk takes his phone out to text the guy but he realizes that Taehyung hasn’t been to his apartment in a few days. 

The only other person that has been here was… you. 

He bends down to look at the bracelet. Were you wearing one that night? Your bracelets didn't look like this. They were metal, not string. Jeongguk bends at the knees and picks it up. The string is elastic and stretchy but loose enough to fit around his wrist if needed. 

Oh, it’s a hair tie. 

You must’ve dropped it when you slept over. Jeongguk turns the thing around to see the charm. The elastic itself is plain black but the charm seems to be some Sanrio character that he recognizes but cannot remember the name of.

Hello Kitty? No, he knows her and she doesn’t look like this. 

Cinnamoroll? No, that’s a puppy. This is some weird purple looking thing. 

My Melody? Maybe. 

Fuck, he doesn’t have time to worry about this. Jeongguk shoves the damn thing in his pocket, makes a mental reminder to text you about it after eating lunch, and goes to quickly wash his hands. His fingers push the door open to his bathroom. Clean white tiles, the scent diffuser smelling of white musk, and his TMNT towel drying on the rack. 

Jeongguk looks up at himself in the mirror. His eyes are sunken in and a little swollen from the lack of sleep. His stomach rumbles as he lathers his hands in his fresh cotton hand soap. 

But all he can think about is you on that night. 

Saturday Night. 

The night felt never-ending. 

Jeongguk was doing his best to get everyone in a car ride home safely after song after song on the dance floor but he was getting a little overwhelmed with all that was thrown onto him in the span of a few short minutes when Nayeon decided she wanted to go home.

Laughing, tripping, complaining about vomiting, a smell coming from some random spot that’s making someone nauseous, Jeongguk felt like a parent trying to get their kids together. His phone was glued to his hands to call cabs and type in addresses while making sure the five of you didn’t wander off into the unknown without his supervision. 

Thankfully, one of your friends managed to usher the other into a cab and Jimin was able to shove a whiny Taehyung into the one Jeongguk had ordered so now all he had left was you. 

Drunk you was something else. Stuck onto him like a second layer, arms twined tightly around his waist, mumbling about something random while stumbling over every step. Jeongguk had half a mind to just pick you up and walk to where the guy had parked but he didn’t want to make your nausea even worse by swinging you around.  

“Wait! Jeongguk, I can’t find my phone, we have to go back,” you whined, tugging on his arm with one hand. “I-I can’t–hiccup–I can’t live without my-my phone!”

You were clutching your phone in your other hand. 

He sighed. “You’re holding it,” motioning to the device pressed into your fingers. “Come on, the cab is parked there.” The yellow thing looked like something descending from the heavens while the driver finished the last of his cigarette and belched loud enough for Jeongguk to hear. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay, I trust you.” You mumbles, hugging him close like he was a large pillow. 

The next few minutes passed by a bit quicker as you let Jeongguk help you into the car and started on your way back to his apartment since you and your friends were incapable of remembering your address. 

He leaned against the tough upholstery as the car began moving. Muscles tight and tired. Jeongguk felt the rivulets of sweat dripping down on his neck which he quickly wiped off and onto his pants, something he usually doesn't do but he’s at the state of not really giving a fuck about clothes he’s going to wash anyways. His body bobbles with a shaky turn and somehow, your limp body ends up pressed into his side, head leaning on his chest while a muffled groan leaves your painted lips.

“Ah s-sorry,” you slurred, attempting to sit up by placing a hand on Jeongguk’s mid-thigh. “I forgot to put on my belt.”  Your perfume flowed to him, a soft clean scent, maybe a bit sucrose when mixed with the scent of your shampoo. 

“Oh, the belt is finicky on that side, ma’am.” The driver informs. He meets both of your eyes in the rearview mirror. “It’s okay. Lean on your boyfriend for the rest of the drive. Should only take a few more minutes!” 

Jeongguk opens his mouth to correct but you interrupt him with a giggle. His head switches to you, mouth covered, skin dimpling. “Boyfriend.” You repeat. 

The driver plays along, most likely very confused, just like Jeongguk. “You two make a lovely couple.”

That next statement makes you giggle a little more. Jeongguk wants to know what is so funny about this cab driver assuming the two of you are dating. Do you find the hypothetical to be so insanely outrageous that it’s hilarious?  Should he even bother asking or should he let it go to save himself the pain from hearing your brazenly honest answer?

Jeongguk chooses to ignore it. He knows another turn is coming up so he raises his left arm and nudges you closer to rest on him comfortably. That same arm circles around your shoulders and the top of your head tickles the bottom of Jeongguk’s nose. You’re warm and comforting after a long night, bringing up a slew of feelings he’s been pushing down for years at this point. 

Still mumbling to yourself, you become distracted with the jewelry on Jeongguk’s hand so you don’t hear the questions that the cab driver throws your way. 

“How long have you two been dating?” He asks, turning down the late night radio station playing old hits. 

Jeongguk just goes along with it. “It’s-uh-very recent, sir.” A four hour relationship to be exact. “But I’ve known her since we were kids.” 

“How cute! My wife and I only dated for a few months before I proposed, you know,” he proclaims proudly, shoulders broadening. Jeongguk nods and fakes a grin in hopes that the conversation ends here. 

Jeongguk wants to laugh. Marriage? 

He’s never even been in a relationship before. He’s barely gone past kissing someone for longer than two minutes. With the way things are going, Jeongguk will probably live his life exactly like Steve Carell in the movie The 40-year-old Virgin only there’s no way he’ll get a happy ending. 

The cab driver laughs to himself when he sees the look on Jeongguk's face before turning the music back up. You’ve successfully knocked out on Jeongguk’s chest so you miss the faint redness creeping up his neck and to his ears but it’s not something he wants you to see either. His brain zeros in on his own pathetic state of affairs. 

He’s always prided himself on his emotional maturity for someone so young but romantically? Horrendous. 

Jeongguk has always stood behind the belief that he simply isn’t meant to be in a relationship with anyone. Sometimes he can be too shy, too closed off, and people don’t gravitate towards people like that. They want someone who can be openly affectionate after a few conversations and Jeongguk simply isn’t the type. The only reason why he has friends like Taehyung and Jimin is because they made an effort to get to know him at his pace. It’s the same with you, who was older and a girl but you still made the effort to invite Jeongguk to watch Barbie movies or search for coins to get the cheapest candy at the convenience store. People usually don’t care after he brushes them off a few times but you did, Taehyung and Jimin did, and Jeongguk gets all fuzzy inside. 

Would he ever find someone like you three again? Would he ever be so lucky? Probably not. 

He looks over at your face smushed against his chest, playing with the zipper of his jacket. You’re so pretty, always have been, always will be, like a rare flower. Even after all of this time, he’s so taken aback by how effortlessly beautiful you are; on the outside and the inside. The way your hair falls delicately over your face, cheeks puffed, lips puckered; the way your shirt gives you an angelic look and your necklace lies perfectly in the middle of your collarbones. 

It’s enticing. Jeongguk can’t take his eyes off of you. He never could. 

Fuck, this random reunion might do more harm than good if Jeongguk doesn’t learn to control himself. This isn’t the time to reawaken old feelings that he pushed down for a good reason. 

Once the cab stops in front of his apartment building, Jeongguk pays him and then helps you out of the car. Body limp and slippery like slinky. 

“No, I forgot how to walk,” you mumbled, leaning against one of the pillars outside the building to keep yourself up straight. “Can’t I just sleep here? It’s comfortable.”

“That’s a concrete pillar.” Jeongguk runs a hand through his slightly dampened hair. “Come on, there’s an elevator and I don’t live too high up. You’ll sleep better on my bed.” 

A pout grows stronger on your face, a few streaks of something black collecting in the corner of your eyes and your lipstick is smeared a little but Jeongguk still finds you so put together and exquisite. Still like that rare flower on top of a mountain peak; beautiful yet impossible to reach. 

“Fine.” You peel yourself off the pillar. “But if you’re lying to me, I’m gonna pinch those cute little cheeks right off your face.” Squishing his flesh momentarily before dropping your hands, Jeongguk blinks a few times in shock. 

Focus, Jeon. She needs to rest. 

Getting you inside is easier than he thought. The promise of the elevator and a warm bed with some water turned you much more docile. But you’re still enamored by his rings which you slip on and off his fingers as the elevator beeps. Then, Jeongguk slips off your shoes and tells you to wait by the kitchen counter while he rifles through his things, handing you a shirt and directing you to the bathroom.

A loud sigh escapes his lips once he’s all alone. Jeongguk has about ten seconds to change himself. He’s been in these tight jeans that squeeze his legs like anything. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone so hard in the gym over the summer. Now most of his old clothes don’t fit him as well as they used to. 

Quickly, he throws on his pajamas just as you emerge from the bathroom and hum a random song from tonight. 

Then, he helps you into bed, groaning out at the soreness in his muscles from all of the lifting he’s been doing today.  You don’t fight back too much, clearly worn out, so you sink into the soft padding easily like a little kitten. He throws the blankets over you, does a quick check to see if you’re okay, and then gets into his own makeshift bed made out of a thin mattress and a set of sheets. 

It’s not nearly as comfortable as his own bed and his back might be mad at him tomorrow but it’ll do for now. 

Just as Jeongguk is beginning to fall into deep sleep, he hears you rusting around, mumbling under your breath about something. Your hands push yourself up on your elbows. For a second, he thinks you’re going to throw up so he gets up quickly and makes his way to his kitchen to grab a plastic bag. 

But you start speaking louder. 

“I can’t believe you, Seojoon.” Your hair sticks out from every corner as you flop back down, lips bloated and pouty, slapping around the comforter and pointing to no one. “I hate you.” Jeongguk’s eyebrow raises, pausing in the middle of his kitchen to decipher what on earth you are talking about.

Clearly, you’re having a nightmare. Jeongguk takes quiet steps back to his spot on the floor in order to avoid that one squeaky 

“You cheated on me with Somin, didn’t you? You bastard. You told me you loved me,” whining, your body twists around. “Why else would I let you fuck me?” 

Jeongguk reels his brain back to stop the curious sympathy right there. He doesn’t want to prod further into this bad dream involving a fight with an ex of some sort. It’s none of his business and clearly this wasn’t meant for him to hear. All he does care about is if you’re going to vomit or not. 

He calls your name. “Are you okay?” Jeongguk whispers. 

You don’t respond. Instead, your face twists in discomfort as you continue to mumble into his mattress and writhe around. 

Jeongguk grows increasingly worried. He doesn’t want you to choke or anything of the sort while he’s deep in REM. Slowly, he gets down on his knees to get a closer look at you tossing and turning.  

“It hurts so much.” 

Jeongguk gently places a hand on your arm, saying your name softly so you don’t wake up. “Hey, you okay? Do you want water?” You twist away from his touch at first. “It’s me, it’s me, it’s Jeongguk,” reminding you as your lids barely part. He thinks you register him, that maybe you’re somewhat awake right now as you begin to curl forward. 

But then your hands clasp Jeongguk’s arms tightly, restricting his every move. 

“You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?” Your voice slurs, the tip of your nose meeting the fabric of his shirt, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to leave indents. 

Nothing but confusion clouds Jeongguk’s brain. What are you talking about? 

“You told me you loved me. What? Don’t you want me anymore?”  

Tightening around him, you bury your face into his neck again. Your arms begin to raise, wrap around his shoulders to bring your body closer to his rigid frame. Jeongguk feels wetness from your eyes begin to drip onto his skin, dampening his shirt.

“Just do it then. Just leave me. No one ever sticks around anyways. Guys always leave me the moment something new comes along. Every single one,” you enunciate, vibrating into him, crying softly. “You don’t even care about how much you hurt me. No one cares.” 

Jeongguk is paralyzed under your hold as your tears start to roll down. Your sobs are loud and erratic and painful, as if all of this hurt has building until you eventually couldn’t hold onto it anymore. That it took alcohol and a long night to wedge it out of you. 

It’s contradictory; holding him tight and telling him to leave you.

But he doesn’t push you away and he doesn't let go. Jeongguk lets you grip onto him for safety because he’s terrified that removing his touch could break you even further. 

 He doesn’t know what is happening in your dream to make you behave like this, he doesn’t know what made the previous glee that used to make your eyes bright fade away after all of those years passed. He wants to ask but he doesn't know how. 

All Jeongguk does know is that you were different. Not in a good or bad way but you were simply different.  The happy go lucky little girl grew into a hardened adult. When he looked into your eyes tonight, he saw traces of all of this hurt woven alongside other emotions. Like a heavy blanket that only pushes you further and further deeper into a more melancholic way of being. 

And as he helps you back into bed once your tears stop falling, rubs some cooling Vicks rub on your forehead and pulls the cover close, his brain turns into an echo chamber until he tires himself to sleep. 

No one ever sticks around anyways. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A week has passed and while you thought you could gain control of your physics plight, it seems like the universe has some different plans. 

The tutor that you selected, a second year girl who is majoring in electrical engineering, has been a total flake. You exchanged numbers with her on Thursday during Week 1 and she fed you all of these sweet words about wanting to become friends and teaching in a friendly, kind way which immediately softened you. The last thing you wanted was for some dickhead to call you stupid because you didn’t understand the concept the first time. 

She said she’d meet you at the library that Saturday at 3pm to come up with a schedule and she never showed. So you rescheduled to Sunday, then Monday, then Tuesday and now you just feel like an idiot. 

There’s always some excuse. Either she slept in or she’s not feeling well or her roommate needs her but you’re losing your damn mind right now. 

“You’re not paying her, right?” Jeongyeon asks, rummaging through Nayeon’s bag for something. “Maybe she’s a scammer?” 

You give her a dull look. “She doesn’t get paid by me. I think the university does or she’s earning credits, I don’t know. But I’m fucked for the big quiz we have next week.” 

It’s only Week 2 but the material is daunting and frankly put, you’ll shit your pants the day of the actual quiz and whatever date the final is. This is all so unfamiliar to you and, unlike other subjects, you struggle to find that area where the content becomes interesting. All you feel is terror. 

Nayeon, ever the optimist, tries to lift your spirit. 

“Girl, that shit is next week. Do yourself a favor, find a new tutor, study a whole bunch and then ace the quiz. There’s no point in waiting for this random girl to start caring. It’s your grade after all.” 

“Yeah but I just don’t want someone that’s going to be an asshole when I get things wrong.” 

People love to dumb you down, especially those in your own department. Obviously your promiscuity directly correlates to your intelligence. Girls can only be slutty or smart, right? There exists no gray area. But you know yourself. Even if science and math aren’t your thing, you’re a smart person. You got into a top performing university without any fancy prep classes or coaches and you are consistently pulling good grades each semester. That speaks more about you and your capabilities than anything else. 

“I’ve heard this one guy is pretty good. He’s a teacher’s assistant pursuing his masters degree here.” Nayeon takes her phone out to look him up. “My friend was in his Chemistry group sessions and he was apparently super helpful and kind. I think he does physics too. Let me ask her.” 

You perk up. It would be perfect if you could land a tutoring session with this TA instead of your missing student tutor. Even if it’s a group setting

“Let me know what your friend says.” You look away from the two in front of you for a split second as your attention was cut by your phone vibrating on the table. Flipping it over you see a text from your flakey tutor herself. 

Reading it over, you roll your eyes heavily. Another lame excuse about her skipping out on your tutoring session because she scheduled a meeting with her professor at the exact same time by accident. You ignore it and plan to respond with a passive aggressive rejection to end all of this bullshit. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jeongyeon and Nayeon try to discreetly take their edibles before digging into the food you all ordered. 

Steaming plates of rice, kimchi, stir-fry and meats along with a few fried foods makes your stomach grumble. You flip your phone back over and grab your chopsticks, changing the subject quickly. 

“What are you guys doing after this?” You ask. The edibles are going to last a while and considering a weed high has different stages, there’s no way these two are going to be eating the entire time. Munchies aren’t that strong. 

Jeongyeon wiggles her eyebrows suggestively to her girlfriend, cheeks full like a chipmunk, and Nayeon turns beet red. Enough context for you to figure it out, breaking into a fit of giggles. 

“Ohhh, I see.” 

Good for them. If only you were getting laid too. Lately, your vibrator has been your best friend late at night when your mind wanders. 

With thirteen settings, it’s safe to say you won’t be getting bored for a while. 

However, you’ve never done it while being high. You’d want to do it with someone you’re comfortable with, maybe a consistent trustworthy hookup and only if consent is 100% enthusiastic, but you can only imagine how heightened the senses feel. 

Getting lost in thought, you cross one of your legs over the other, thinking about the haziness parting as you ride them slow but deep. Your hands will grip their shoulders, nails digging into the tight flesh as the drag of their length is delicious inside of you. Moaning out loud at how full you feel, watching the sharp bone of his jaw unhinge with pleasure, thick silver earrings brushing your skin, dark hair between your fingers as you increase the pace and drive the two of  you to the tipping point. 

It sounds… so satisfying. 

Fuck, okay, you need to get some control over yourself. It must be the week before your period or something because your mind has been cooking up these scenarios that demand attention. 

And most of the time it involves some familiar looking yet faceless character giving you the best dick you’ve ever gotten. It’s really messing with you. 

How the fuck are you going to be Miss Celibacy if your ass can’t go a week without sex? 

You stab your chopsticks into a large chunk of tofu and stare at the red sauce over the surface before shoving it into your mouth in hopes of distracting you when an angry recognizable voice flutters past your table. 

“..and this bitch has the nerve to look me dead in the eye and go, ‘well, you just lost yourself a customer,’ as if any of us give a shit. Like ma’am I get paid minimum wage to make watery coffee and reheat cardboard sandwiches regardless of your purchase, please leave me alone and die.” 

Turning your head, you see tufts of blonde and shiny boots combined with the soft smell of peaches: Jimin. 

And right next to him is none other than Jeon Jeongguk who is chuckling at Jimin’s whiny Karen tone to describe his awful customer. His cheeks creasing, eyes getting shinier and cute. 

You can feel your body thrum with excitement. 

“Hey guys!” Nayeon waves, setting down her utensils. They turn to look at her, then Jeongyeon and then at you, bowing while greeting. Your shoulders cave in when you feel Jeongguk’s stare on your face. “Do you wanna eat lunch with us?”

“Hell yeah. Is the menu today good?” Jimin asks.  

Jeongyeon, with a mouth full of food, nods excitedly which is perfect. Jeongguk and Jimin laugh, motioning to the lunch line quickly so you save the table and go back to eating your lunches. Your brain demands another curious glance at Jeongguk’s retreating figure. 

What? He looks really fucking sexy from the back. 

Ever since the first day of school,  you agreed to ride the subway back with Jeongguk on the days you end class at the same time and you've come to the conclusion that he is quite literally the hottest guy on the entire planet. Hotter than any other guy you’ve wasted your time with. 

He has the most boyish features but his body is perfectly crafted. Wide shoulders, defined thighs and arms, a super sculpted back, but not overly burly where he looks fake. Like an exquisite marble statue from the Hellenistic period. 

Yes, yes, you know it’s sort of weird considering the fact that you’ve  watched grow up from a cute kid to an emo pre-teen and now jumping to the absolute meal he is now but it’s just some simple attraction. 

One that rears its ugly head whenever Jeongguk laughs or smiles or pushes his hair out of his face or tongues his cheek or does literally anything. 

There are a million reasons why this could’ve happened. From all the time spent together from the subway rides to morning coffee and dinner one night (with all of your friends but it still counts) or you’re thinking this silly little attraction might be a combination of a lack of dick, PMS and pure loneliness. Either way, it isn’t anything major. 

Finding a way to ignore it is the next step.

Nayeon nudges you. “Remind me again, how exactly are you two childhood friends?” Her cheeks puffed with food.  

“Oh, I lived in Busan until high school and he was my neighbor. I would always hang out with him and his two sisters.” You explain, taking another bite of soft sticky rice. 

“Older sisters?”

You shake your head. “One older and one younger.” Wondering why this is relevant. 

But then, Nayeon and Jeongyeon make eye contact, eyebrows raising like they do when they know something you don’t. Meanwhile, you’re just sitting there like an idiot, waiting for context with your chopsticks held halfway up to your mouth. 

“Green flag. Bright green fucking flag.” Jeongyeon whistles. 

“Huh?”  Your chopsticks barely prod your lip without your mouth opening. Did the edibles pull out some secret stoner knowledge that you aren’t aware of? 

Jeongyeon decides to explain it to you. “According to the girlies on tiktok, men with older sisters are usually green flags. Something about learning gentleness and patience and respecting women from an early age or whatever. I don’t get you heteros so it went past my head.” 

You’re puzzled at first. These men all have mothers, they came from a woman who nursed them and cared for them until now, why is having an older sister so different?

But then it hits you. 

The way Jeongguk treats you is so different from the way most guys treat you. There’s no domineering masculinity coming from him in heavy waves trying to overpower you. It’s softer. He’s so approachable and gentle. He never touches you unless you’re okay with it, he’s always polite and kind and sweet. He never makes you feel stupid or inadequate, doesn’t talk over you, nothing of the sort. 

And while it’s the barest of minimum, Jeongguk makes you feel safe. 

Even Jeongyeon and Nayeon, who are often not comfortable around straight men, found him to be a delight. That has to mean something. 

“I…I never thought about it,” your voice goes a little husky. Tucking a stray piece of hair out of your face as your cheeks get a little warm. “He’s just a good guy, you know.  Jihyo, his sister, always kept him in check. I guess, it’s a good thing.” 

Kids lead by example. Growing up in an environment where the adults around you were treating women poorly or pushing people around will appear in relationships. But Jeongguk was the opposite. 

“It is. Think about it,” Nayeon leans in, “after all of those duds you’ve been with, he’s just what you’re looking for.” 

The way your heartbeat accelerates is not a good sign. 

Your chin pulls back, like you’re leaning away from the possibility. “What? I’m not gonna date him, Nayeon,” you groan under your breath. 

“Why not?” She whines, slamming her fists onto the table, then laughing slightly at the indents left on his skin. 

“Because he has no interest in dating right now,” you grumble, remembering his words from his birthday. 

Even if you did try to pursue it, there’s a high chance Jeongguk might only see you as his older sister’s friend. Which is how it should be! It’s best that you let this silly little crush die like a lonely star and maintain your promise of making this year all about you. Your bullet vibrator is going to have to help you whenever you get the urge but besides that, no sex, no dates, no boys, nothing of the sort. 

“Did he tell you that?” Jeongyeon asks, eyes glazing over. The weed must be hitting pretty hard. You’re surprised they can keep up with this conversation. 

Then again, they’re probably used to it. 

You nod. “At the club.” Snorting, your eyes briefly flick to the other side of the cafeteria where a certain someone sits. “Juri offered him her number and he said he wasn’t going to go out with her.”

That seems to wake the brunette up. “Fuck, really? I wish I saw that,” she pouts, leaning on the blonde curled up next to her. Cute. 

“Well, he didn’t say no since you two started fucking hazing him the moment you saw him,” you scold. “But he told me he was going to reject her if/when he saw her in person.” 

“Hey! You were the one who directed us to shoo away any man that came up to you that night.” Nayeon defends. “We were just listening to instructions when we came over to stop you two.” 

Jeongyeon joins in. “Yeah, and he looked like your usual type so we assumed we should pull you away. How were we supposed to know the super hot guy you were talking to was a friend?” 

You open your mouth to quip back when you feel a presence behind you, casting a shadow on your back. The lingering smell of cologne and food dance in the air. A wave of despair crashes inside of your stomach and you really wish a black hole would open up right under to sweep you away from this hellscape. 

“What are you guys talking about?” 

Taehyung Jimin split to sit on the bench between Nayeon and Jeongyeon’s bench and yours. It's a square shaped table with four benches on each side, so enough space for two people per bench. The two couples share a bench while you and Jeongguk get your own, although he still sits closer to you on his own bench. 

“U-uh–” Jeongyeon stutters, looking at you with wide eyes for help. 

“Oh, just some guy,” you fake a laugh, flicking some hair out of your face and turning to food so you can shovel it in your face like a starved person. 

Taehyung laughs a little. “Just some guy? Jeongyeon was saying that he’s super hot and your type.” He’s being cheeky, like he always is, but this time, you can’t engage in a back and forth with him. 

Because the hot sweet guy you were talking about is sitting right next to you. 

Your brain urges you to take a peek. Jeongguk is dressed like he usually is; a pair of baggy cargo pants and a light gray sweatshirt, and he always looks attractive. The fall wind is allowing you to smell the scent of his flowery shampoo in combination with his usual perfume and it’s such an addictive scent that you never want to forget. 

But you can’t think about that. You should be thinking of a lie. 

“I’ve always wondered if you had a boyfriend,” Jimin asks, resting his chin on his palm. A sly smirk forms on his lips, just as cheeky as his own boyfriend’s. “I asked Jeongguk and he said he didn’t know.” 

Fuck. You look at him now, hair swishing with your movements. The boy is eating without a care and shrugs in response. “You never mentioned one.” 

Yeah, because there isn’t one. You’ve never had a boyfriend in your life. 

Sweat beads your palms. There has to be some guy that you can just drop in here for the sake of the conversation. Some random guy out in this cafeteria that is insignificant enough to never cross paths with you again so you can nip this conversation right in the bud. 

You scan the place. There are a few guys you’ve already hooked up with so that’s a no. Some groups of first-years and that’s also a no (you’re not trying to catch a case here). 

For fucks’ sake, are the only hot guys at this school Jimin, Taehyung and Jeongguk? 

“Uh–”

Nayeon swoops in like a guardian angel. “We were talking about the Physics and Chem tutor. I don’t know if you guys have had him but, Kim Namjoon?” 

Right, the tutor Nayeon’s friend went to. The really nice one. 

She sends you a hidden wink from her end of the table and you respond with a quick finger heart. Bless her soul. 

“Joon? Oh, he is so hot.” Jimin, to your surprise, bounces at the chance to thirst over this supposed sexy tutor that you’ve never seen before. His eyes roll back at the sheer thought of him, leaning closer to gossip.  “He was our tutors for Physics 2 last semester and wow.” He shakes his head, marveled at such a man. “He could top me and then never speak to me again and I’d be okay with that.”

Now you’re curious about this Kim Namjoon. Just how hot is he? 

Taehyung jumps in. “I agree, however, “he holds a single finger up, “I would also like to add Kim Seokjin, the bio tutor.” His eyes roll back dramatically. “Dream threesome. Foursome if you want babe,” he nudges the blonde who blushes in agreement.  

Then the entire table breaks out into giggles and with a little coaxing, Nayeon and Jeongyeon reveal their ideal threesomes which you already know the answers to (Han Sohee and Irene from Red Velvet) since they share the same girl crushes. Then you answer begrudgingly which are the two male leads from Business Proposal because, obviously. However, the person next to you is rather quiet. You lightly nudge his side with your elbow to check in with him. 

“You okay?” You’re asking just in case Jeongguk isn’t comfortable with sex talk. 

But he nods. “Sorry, I’m still listening. Just really hungry. All I had for breakfast was a protein shake.” Jeongguk inhales the glazed stir-fry chicken on his plate, a dot of sauce landing on the corner of his lip and, oh my, do you want to wipe it off for him because he is so cute with his bready baby cheeks all puffed with food.

“Come on,” you pretend to scold. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Jeongguk’s mom would weep if she heard about him skipping. 

He waves it off but you can see his ears get a little red. “Yeah, yeah, I know but I slept through my alarms so I was in a rush this morning. Almost pulled a Taehyung and crashed into the wall while trying to run out.” 

You laugh at the image. Taehyung can be a bit of a klutz. At the club on Jeongguk’s birthday, he almost crashed into an entire table because he was dizzy from doing tiktok dances all night. Your head throws back slightly, eyes fluttering shut, and when you open them again, Jeongguk’s eyes are on you. 

They feel explorative, searching every inch of your face like he doesn’t want to forget a single inch, lips quirked up in a half smile but it’s Jeongguk’s eyes that really take you aback. His eyes have never looked at you like that before. 

As if something is swimming deep in those pools of glimmery chocolate brown; something warm and sweet in there. 

“Sorry,” he blushes, turning his eyes away from your face and back onto his food. Your heart stops for a moment, looking down at his pillowy soft lips. They’re right there, moisturized and pink. All you really have to do is lean in. 

And with the way Jeongguk looks at you, you really fucking want to. 

He’s so beautiful. So pretty and sweet and kind and unlike any other guy you’ve ever wanted. The urge to go for him is almost primal that you can barely hold yourself back. 

Your friends are like little angels in your head, goading you on to just do it. Just kiss him and take him and then drop it. Satiate that part of you that needs sex, that needs to fucked just right, and then move on. It would be different than usual because Jeongguk is different from the previous men so you wouldn’t get hurt. 

Although… 

He’s Jihyo’s little brother, the boy who needed to hold your hand when crossing the street, the kid always on his skateboard or his nose buried in a manga. Would it tarnish everything that you find familiar to just go for it? Would years of a perfectly healthy happy friendship go right down the drain? 

But Jeongguk is an adult, only one year younger than you. There isn’t anything wrong. 

Ideally, you could just lean in and–

“Jeongguk, what was the name of the blue penguin in the Backyardigans? I really need to know like now,” Taehyung urges, breaking your train of thought immediately. 

You fly back as if the contact singes you, curling into yourself and placing a single hand on the surface of the table to catch your breath. You completely forgot about the whole conversation going on around you when you stared into Jeongguk’s pretty deep eyes. 

It’s clear as day to you. With the man he’s become, it’s obvious that you are definitely into Jeon Jeongguk. 

“Huh?” He rasps, slightly out of it too. “Oh-uh, Pablo. He’s the one that sings International Super Spy.” 

“Pablo! I knew it.” Taehyung snaps his fingers loudly. “How do you still remember that?”

Jeongguk awkwardly forces out a laugh. “We watched a few episodes together this summer, remember?” 

“Right. Pretty sure I was blazed out of my mind, though.” 

Jimin nudges him. “Babe, when are you not blazed out of your mind?”

“When I’m with you, baby boy,” he coos.  

The boy next to you groans out loud. “Ugh, you two are so nasty.” His voice is muffled by food but he still gets his point across. You bite back a giggle at the disgust on his face. 

“Jeongguk, you can’t be mean to us. It’s homophobic.” Jimin points a chopstick in his direction but Jeongguk simply shrugs and continues eating without a care. 

Jeongyeon pipes up. “I agree. That applies to you too, Queen of the Straights.” 

The direct hit has pulled you out of your internal panic, reminding you to contribute to the conversation like friends usually do. Your eyes dull a little. “Yes ma’am.”  Faking a soldier’s salute to make everyone laugh. 

You’re glad that everyone else seems oblivious to what just happened because you know that had the two of you been alone, the situation would be entirely different. 

And you don’t know if that outcome would be any better than this one. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

On Friday, classes get canceled. 

Thankfully, it’s nothing bad. All of the buildings are getting fumigated to keep out any infestations that might’ve crawled in over the summer since someone thought they saw a cockroach in the Arts building so all the professors decide to post the lecture information online or have virtual class if necessary. 

You had no complaints with this change. Attend class in your pajamas, in your bed, and have the option to fall asleep without getting caught? Sounds perfect. 

Although, no in person class means you don’t get to speak to your Physics professor to complain about your flakey tutor and find a new one which you were banking on completing before you had your huge quiz next week. So, once your final lecture ends, you begin to worry about how the hell you’re going to resolve that problem. 

Sure, you could easily self-review with the resources online but you’ve always learned more theoretical concepts with someone explaining it to you in person so you could ask questions immediately. 

You shut your laptop off and place it on top of the long coffee table you use as a desk. An open notebook with notes sits on your right, pen clicked off, highlighters placed neatly in your pencil case, and the silence of your studio apartment almost starts ringing in your ears. 

Who do you know that can tutor you for physics? 

Nayeon sent you the email address for the Namjoon person whom everyone is vouching for. You asked this morning  if he had any space in his tutoring session but he responded saying that he does but he isn’t having a session today and he’s happy to answer any questions over email or through a video call individually. 

You genuinely consider that option until you look up at the decor in your room that Namjoon has no chance of missing during the video call. 

Now, you wouldn’t call yourself a strange person, if anything you are a well-adjusted member of society,  but the pieces chosen to hang up in your studio apartment would raise some eyebrows. From the poster of Bibble from Barbie saying Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss to the concerning amount of Sanrio plushies you’ve collected over the years to all of the cat beds and toys thrown around the place and the impressive array of diffusers in every corner, your apartment is an amalgamation of you. 

And you don’t know if this Namjoon guy is going to take one look at the place and peg you down as a fucking weirdo or not. You want to make a good impression on him. 

So, you wrack your brain for a different option to help you just before your quiz next week. 

Someone. Anyone. 

Your worst bet is to walk over to the nearest cram school and ask someone there but those are all high school students and you’d die of embarrassment. 

Then you remember, Jeongguk took Physics last semester. Maybe he can help. 

Quickly, you pat around your duvet for your phone. It’s lying screen down a few inches away from Snowball’s sleeping body. Carefully, you grab the device, scroll through your contacts and call him with fiery hope coursing through you thickly.

“Hello?” His voice drips from the speakers like flowing water and you want to drown in it. 

“Hey, are you done with online classes?” You ask, on your back and knees to your chest in a very suggestive position. 

“Uh almost,” Jeongguk trails off. “Why? What’s up?”

You hold back a goofy smile at his distracted tone. “You know how you said you took physics last semester?” He hums in response. “Do you think you could explain a few concepts to me? I have this big ass quiz soon and I don’t wanna bomb it.” 

You wait. The pessimist in you expects a rejection, a flat out ‘I’d rather die than waste my time explaining physics concepts to a 21-year-old,’ but the optimist is waiting with a bouquet of roses on the other side. 

This is Jeongguk we’re talking about. Sweet, sweet, lovely Jeongguk. Not that dickhead that sits in the back of lecture and watches hentai on his phone. 

“Oh. I’m not the best teacher.”

Both the optimist and pessimist in your head are waiting on the balls of their feet. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting but it's an answer you aren’t hurt by! 

“That’s okay! I just need someone to go over it with me. As long as you aren’t mean, I won’t complain.” You want to appeal to Jeongguk in a way that’ll get the guy to bend a little and what other way to a man’s heart than food? “I’ll repay you with dinner,” you sing-song.  

There’s a brief pause, like he’s considering the option while noises mumble in the background. “What’s the menu?” Jeongguk asks. 

God, he’s so cute. Your cheeks are raised so high, they might as well curl into your eyes. 

“I live near a great fried chicken place.” Works out perfectly because you’ve been craving something fried for a while now. Must be your period. 

Jeongguk barely waits a second. “Sold. Text me the time and your address.”

You cut the call after bidding each other goodbye. A giddy squeal almost bubbles out of your lips until you realize that you have about two hours until Jeongguk is in your apartment for the first time ever. 

Alone. No friends. No family. 

Just you and this super hot guy. 

No interruptions. Complete privacy. 

You launch out of bed so fast that you wake up Snowball from her slumber. Quickly, you shower and you take your time to scrub your body with lilac body wash and shave. Usually Friday is your pamper day so this isn’t anything out of the ordinary. Then you wash your greasy hair to rid yourself of the conditioning hair mask you slathered on this morning. After your shower, you walk around your studio with your fluffy bathrobe and microfiber towel on to find the perfect outfit. 

It has to be comfortable but cute. Even though Jeongguk is just tutoring you and there is a high chance that this meeting will only be platonic, you still want to look your best. 

Rummaging through your dresser drawers and closet, your eyes immediately fall to your collection of baby-doll lingerie sets in various colors. An expensive purchase, but you’ve always enjoyed dressing up every now and then. Your fingers dance across the itchy lace, thinking about which one Jeongguk would like? Lilac? Baby pink? Maybe the nude one with the intricate designs on the cups? Or how about the blood red and black one that looks like it came straight out of a BDSM film? 

Nah, that’s too much. You go for yoga pants, a plain t-shirt and a quarter-zip with your university’s logo on it. Then selecting a lacy pair of underwear and no bra. You hate wearing one at home anyways. 

The clothes lay spread out on your bed as you begin your post shower process of lotion, deodorant, a soft scented body spray and then your clothes. Then, you dry your hair and then begin cleaning up the little clutter you have over the place. You’re a neat person, which others find shocking, so there isn’t much to do. You dry some dishes on the rack, reset your bedsheets, light up a candle, empty the litter box, and eat a mediocre salad as you wait for the clock to strike 5pm. 

Time moves at a microscopic pace, probably because you’re staring at the moving hands in hopes that you’ll blink at the pretty boy will be standing at your doorstep. You should focus on something else in the meantime. So you take out your physics notebook and begin reviewing. 

Next week’s quiz will be on a little under ½  of the energy chapter covered so far. You’ve been paying attention, taking diligent notes, and doing pretty good on the homework but the topics still freak you out.  

It’s a STEM thing. You haven’t taken one since your first year so you’re rusty and the material seems extra intimidating. Unlike Jeongguk, Jimin and Taehyung, you don’t study this on a daily basis. 

But there’s nothing you won’t be able to conquer without working. 

About halfway through your revision is when the buzz of your home intercom rings, shocking you out of your thoughts. Slowly, you get up, dusting the invisible particles off your clothes and going over to the machine to let Jeongguk in. There’s a short waiting game, lasting about two minutes, as he probably comes up from the lobby and reaches your door before knocking. 

You’re putting a kettle of water to boil as the sound resonates and you rush over to open the door with a bright smile on your lips. 

“Hey,” you breathe out, taking in the sights before you. 

As always, Jeongguk looks perfect in a gray long-sleeve t-shirt and black sweats. Like the comfy soft boyfriend of your dreams. His hair is a little damp at the ends but it waves a little past his eyebrow as it grows and his backpack straps pull his shirt wide to show off his broad shoulders. 

Fucking hell, you think. You want to eat him up and ruin him. 

Swallowing shakily, you step aside as he grins. “Hi.” Jeongguk’s voice is low, like usual, but a little buttery and less hoarse. Almost sexy. 

Basically, it’s doing things to you. 

Carefully, you lead him inside where Jeongguk takes his shoes off and stares at the place with those big eyes of his. You wonder what goes through that pretty head of his as he stares at the various stuffed animals and the wall art. But, instead, he lands on the Kirby shaped cat-bed at the base of your bed holding Snowball’s half-asleep body. 

“You have a cat?” He asks. 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you.” You walk in front of the thing, squatting down in front of the entrance to hold a hand out for the ball of fluff to sniff. Snowball headbutts you immediately. “You didn’t inherit your dad’s allergy, did you?” 

That would crush you. As much as you like dogs, you’re a cat person at heart or a Snowball person at heart. 

Jeongguk shakes his head no. Then he comes to the same spot you are and gets on his knees on the opposite side of you, watching with curious doe eyes. Slowly, Jeongguk extends his hand out, thinking Snowball needs time to get used to him like some cats do, but no. She’s friendly and extroverted, getting out of the bed to welcome Jeongguk with an excited soft-tone trill.

It’s heartwarming watching her melt into his touch, purring and climbing into Jeongguk’s lap the more he pets her on all of her favorite spots. 

“You’ve been accepted,” you muse, crossing your arms over your stomach in hopes that by pushing on it, that buttery, gooey, sugary feeling will go away. 

“Yay,” Jeongguk cheers cutely. “What’s her name?” 

“Snowball.” 

“Snowball!” He coos. “You are the cutest ever!” Jeongguk leans down to tell her, slight aegyo in his tone. The rounded tip of his nose brushes the top of her small head

No, you are, is what zings through your mind but don’t tell Snowball you thought that.  

Since your knees start screaming at you to get up, you leave Jeongguk and Snowball to go check on the kettle which is at its very end of boiling the water. You get up on your tiptoes to pull out two white mugs and before grabbing your go-to peach green tea packets, you ask Jeongguk. 

“Tea or coffee?” 

Jeongguk looks up from Snowball curled on his lap, the body of a bright grin on his lips. “Coffee please.” When you nod, he goes back to petting the white feline without another care. 

His adorable politeness removes any nerves you had or any prior sheepishness from the way your studio apartment looks. Small and decorated with all of your interests. The only people that have ever been here are your mother, Jeongyeon and Nayeon. Hookups were always at their place or a hotel so it’s a little odd to see Jeongguk seated on your floor. 

But at the same time, it’s Jeongguk on your floor so you aren’t that worried. 

Pouring the mugs with steaming hot water, you grab a packet of instant coffee while your tea bag steeps and you make Jeongguk his coffee. In the meantime, he’s seated by your coffee table/desk, shrugging his backpack off while Snowball sits beside Jeongguk diligently. Like she’s protecting him from whatever she thinks is going to attack him. 

“I like your place,” Jeongguk says, shocking you for a moment. “It’s very,” he trails off. “Very you.” 

You give him a dulled look over your shoulder. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know, it’s got all of your favorite things.” His chin gestures to the Sanrio stuffed animals, the various figurines from all of your favorite animes, the vintage posters, the bunny paraphernalia, all of your favorite things, like Jeongguk said. 

You turn, pressing the small of your back to the cold counter behind you. “Your place is nice too,” you add for the sake of returning the compliment, although it is true. 

Jeongguk shakes his head. “Yeah but, my landlord is a gaping asshole and hates the idea of posters and paintings since he’s scared it’ll fuck up the wall. It’s nice but it feels dead,” he gives your apartment one more look, “but yours has some personality, you know? I’m kinda jealous.” 

His smile is genuine, sweet and kind. You find yourself melting from the sheer sight of it but you hold yourself back. Don’t want to look too whipped.  

Exhaling with some laughter, you start bringing the mugs over along with some biscuits since it’s tea time. “The first apartment we had when we moved here was like that. The landlord didn’t even let my mom change the curtains even though the ones that came with the place had stains all over it.” Jeongguk grimaces at the thought. “But Mrs. Jeong from our Busan apartment was so nice.” 

What a sweet woman. She would often come down whenever she heard one of them had a cold or if there was a birthday and she was never harsh when your mother’s checks bounced or if she needed an extra day because she hadn’t gotten paid yet. She was the reason you thought all landlords had some semblance of empathy but no. 

“We lived there for about fifteen years. It sucked having to leave.” 

“Oh my god, I didn’t know you moved out!” You gasp, shifting yourself to face him completely. “Is your current place closer to the bakery?”

“No, it’s actually farther but it’s closer to the center of Busan so public transport is good. Plus, noona got a car so it’s not too bad.” 

You sigh. Fuck, you miss Busan so much. Even hearing the slight satoori in Jeongguk’s voice does wonders for your nostalgia as yours only peeks out when you’re angry thanks to teasing from all of the Seoul elitists. 

The beach, the food, the fresh air, the streets, you miss all of it. Such a simple time. You’ve always dreamed of settling there once you’ve figured your life out. It was your end goal. 

“I wanna hear more but let’s get physics out of the way first,” you tap your notebook twice and Jeongguk moves to his backpack to take some items out to start the tutoring session. 

And, to no one’s shock, Jeongguk is actually a really great tutor. 

He’s patient with you and doesn’t mind giving you constant encouragement when you get a bit insecure halfway through a word problem. On concepts you’re unsure about, Jeongguk explains them in the simplest way possible without getting haughty. No outbursts if you make the same mistake two times in a row, he never once calls you stupid or says you’re wasting his time. Jeongguk gently coaches you until you try to solve some problems on your own from the textbook without his help and he checks them afterwards, telling you what you did right and wrong.   

Quite literally, this is all that you wanted. 

Someone to answer your questions, explain a few concepts, and walk you through a couple of examples without questioning your smarts as a whole. 

It’s nice. You feel safe and even better, you feel actually prepared for the quiz which is the opposite of how you felt this morning. You aren’t even worried about it at all. 

After clearing through the sample quiz and practice problems easily in a matter of about 2 ½ hours, you two are all done tutoring. Which means freedom for the rest of the night. 

Quickly, you connect your laptop to the small TV mounted on the wall and put on Love Island since neither of you have watched it. Jeongguk is rather curious about it since Jimin and Taehyung won’t stop talking about it,  so you decide to jump into the newest season with him while leaning against your bed and pulling up the menu for the fried chicken place.

“I’m getting honey garlic,” you tell him when you hand him your phone.  

“Then, I’ll do the spicy cheese one.” He leans closer instead of taking the device and you really wish he didn’t because your body reacts to the proximity with goosebumps erupting all over you like you’re a teenager again. 

Your eyes flick up to his side profile, which is literally perfect. His jaw is strong, well cut, defined and his skin is the color of fresh milk tea. You can see little imperfections on his skin like old acne scars, the slightly chapped surface of his lips, and all of his shiny earrings. You love the way he looks and how Jeongguk has grown into his features.  The urge to trace his jawline with your tongue is insane, almost caustic inside of you. It’s impossible to push down. You sort of dressed up for this tutoring date, throwing on a pair of your favorite panties, lathering yourself in the softest lotion; you took all of the right steps and you’re hungry for a certain ending even though there’s a high chance it won’t happen at all. The horny side of you is begging for you to shoot your shot. 

But you stop. Not yet. Not right now. 

While Jeongguk picks out drinks, appetizers and the dessert he wants,  you rush to the bathroom for a second. In the mirror, you take notice of your reddened cheeks and parted lips and the messy wisps of hair sticking out. You quickly tie it back into a loose braid and then splash some water on your face. 

Reel it back, bitch.  

While in the bathroom, you call out. “Hey Jeongguk? Could you get my wallet? It’s on top of my dresser, the one next to my closet.” Might as well pay now so you can get the chicken faster. 

“Okay!” He responds. 

The noise your stomach makes is loud and painful. The salad you had did nothing to satiate your cravings so the thought of chicken, perfectly fried to a crisp and covered in garlicky sweet sauce has you practically salivating. Especially since you’ve been eating so healthily as of late. It’s nice to treat yourself to some fast food.

Afterwards, you trudge back on over to the coffee table and plop down silently while Jeongguk puts in your card information. Meanwhile, you remember to feed Snowball for dinner and give her some much needed attention by bringing her to sit with the two of you so she can be pet and loved. 

Jeongguk’s warmth emanates from his shoulder that is inches away from you while the Love Island intro song plays at the start of every new season. Half-heartedly, you watch the corny antics as each contestant introduces themselves with the main host speaking over and you think about how much internal anguish you’re feeling at the moment. 

An object prods into your forearm. You look down to see the rounded edge of your credit card. “I paid,” Jeongguk tells you. You don’t respond verbally, taking the plastic and shoving it into the slot of your card wallet. 

“Thanks,” you mumble. You bring your knees up to your chest and rest your chin on top of them, hoping to get into the various shirtless tattooed guys on your television screen. It’s an easy task. Shows like Love Island don’t ask too much of you but you can get into it enough where other thoughts begin to fade. 

You check your phone to see that the chicken should be delivered in about 10 minutes. Then you can have food and TV to reward you for all of your hard work. 

The beginning is awkward as each person picks their couple purely based on looks and their name. You cringe when a guy comes in and no one steps up to match with him so he has to randomly choose a girl who was either too shy to step up to say she thinks he’s cute or not at all interested in him. It sounds like such an awkward place to be in and you’d hate to be on either side of the situation. 

Jeongguk, on the other hand, isn’t a reality TV kind of guy. So he has a million questions and comments throughout the 57 minute episode. 

“I don’t get it. They just shove 10 hot people in a house and they have to like each other?” 

“Fuck, that’s how you’re supposed to say Leicester?” 

“That one guy looks like such a fuck boy. Why would you ever get a chest tattoo of an eagle?” 

“What happens if you don’t like anyone you match with? Can you just leave?” You shrug in response. This is your first time watching this show too.  “I’d leave so fast if I was on this show. None of these people would interest me.”

“Me too,” you respond, playing with the frayed edge of an old receipt sticking out of one of the wallet pockets. “I’d get the ick so fast and then hop on the first plane back home.” 

Jeongguk’s bantering turns the simple binge into something more. You start laughing, indulging his every whim, making fun of the guys trying too hard to flirt and seem suave and it’s really fun. You manage to barely remember the way you felt when you came out of the bathroom. 

Is this how it should always be? Platonically hanging out? 

Was it a good thing that you stopped yourself before your desires took over your logic?

You don’t know. You don’t want to either. You just want to sit back and enjoy the rest of this lovely day off. 

After another few minutes of watching the show, you feel Jeongguk’s eyes on you. Wide, glittery, washing over every inch of your skin like he’s trying to commit your features to memory. You raise an eyebrow in question. For a moment, he doesn’t do anything, just stares at you, and then he points to your phone screen where a notification from the delivery app shows. 

The food is here. 

Quickly, you go down, slipping some slides on your feet and shoving your hands in the pockets of your sweater. The delivery person hands you the plastic bag with steaming boxes and you thank them before trundling back upstairs. The smell that wafts to you is mouth-wateringly delicious. 

This. This is your treat after a grueling two weeks of school. 

You bring it up for you and Jeongguk to dig into. The chicken is fresh and delicious and in combination with Jeongguk’s commentary, you start to really enjoy yourself. Especially as all your sex related thoughts begin to push to the back of your brain and the night gets more fun yet relaxing. The food is good and the drinks are refreshing. 

Afterwards, you crack open a bag of  kit kats to share with him to cap off the meal with something sweet since none of the desserts at the restaurant sounded appealing to either of you. 

Love Island is addictive. Your friends were right about it. Two episodes later and the two of you are curious about who is the new islander coming and how they are going to shake things up. 

The TV is on the wall mounted across your bed and coffee table. For the sake of your backs, you move Jeongguk to the bed and take some pillows to lean against so your backs aren’t completely sore by the next morning. 

Although, you do wish your back was sore for another reason but let’s not get into that just yet. 

Since you don’t have a lot of pillows, you share your main one, meaning you’re a lot closer to Jeongguk than you originally planned. To the point where your arms are pressed against each other and your legs are brushing. It makes you nervous to be this close. His perfume is a strong elixir, heady and comforting, pushing you to lean in and bury your face into the delectable skin of his neck. Even his neck, wow. The skin is so smooth, there’s a mole right in the middle of it. You want to sink your teeth into the flesh and use your lips and tongue to paint it all sorts of beautiful colors. 

Sweat begins to form on your hairline. You get nervous with Jeongguk sitting so close to you, hands itching to do something. First they play around with the single star pendant on your necklace, then at a loose thread on your comforter, and then you decide to redo your hair. 

The braid has become a straggly mess with you leaned against things so you pull your hair tie off and begin to undo your braid. At the very least, it is something for your hands to do, keep them occupied and away. 

From Jeongguk that is. You don’t want to obstruct his view or break his attention. 

Pushing off from the pillow, suddenly something happens on screen that makes your head turn abruptly  to see who said what and your hair wacks Jeongguk right in the eye. 

“Shit,” he hisses, clutching his face, curling inwards. 

You begin to panic, turning in on your knees to get closer to him. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I was trying to tie my hair and then something happened on screen so I–” you stop midway, no need for an explanation. Instead, check to see if your hair scratches him in the cornea or not.

Jeongguk’s legs, that were once crossed, are now spread wide without your body taking up the space next to him on your bed. Without a second thought, you cross over the one closest to you and end up in between his two long legs. One hand on his shoulder to grab his attention. 

“Are you okay?” You ask worriedly, trying to search his gaze but Jeongguk’s eyes are turned down. “Jeongguk?” 

Muffled, he speaks up. “Y-yeah. I’m fine.” Jeongguk drops his hands onto his thighs before blinking a few times and you see a telltale tear pool from his big doe eyes, dripping down the slope of his cheek. 

A huge wave of guilt crashes inside of you. 

You made Jeongguk cry. 

Not intentionally but still. He’s crying. 

“Aw,” you cup his cheeks, searching his irises for anything like you’re a licensed ophthalmologist or something, wiping the stray tear with your thumb.“I’m really sorry. Do you need eye drops or anything?” You sit down on your feet, leaning closer to see him. “I can go check in my medicine box if I have any left from Spring.”

He doesn’t respond. 

 Jeongguk freezes immediately with you between his legs. As if all of his blood stops flowing through his veins and he’s turned to stone by Medusa. He glances at every corner of your face, at the strands of hair framing it, like he’s never seen you before. His jaw unhinges and the tip of his pink tongue is just barely visible. 

You don’t even notice how close you get. So worried about the possibility of your hair scratching his cornea that you forget that your knees are brushing against his crotch. Nor do you think about how your face is near, you’re literally staring down like you’re about to kiss him despite dreaming about being in this position all day. 

The only thing echoing in your mind is: Is Jeongguk okay? 

Not another thought. 

“I–” he stops, lips parted, “I’m okay, really.” 

Jeongguk’s palm gently pushes your hands off of his cheeks and he shifts in his spot. 

He’s practically shielding himself for you. His legs are pushed up to his chest now. Jeongguk looks like an animal that’s getting scolded for spilling food everywhere and you cannot understand why on earth he’d be making a face like that. 

“Is something wrong?” You ask. Jeongguk covers his face but you can see his ears starting to turn red. 

You inch closer to him and gently wrap your fingers around his wrist. You’re so close you can smell the gentle perfume he’s sprayed on his neck and the inviting scent of his hair serum. But he’s wriggling around like a fish out of water and it’s scaring you. 

His hands move down, ripping his wrist out of your grip to cover up his crotch and you see a glimpse of the obvious bulge poking from his sweatpants. 

Oh. 

You recoil, muscles tightening as your brain moves a mile a minute. Something Jeongguk must sense from you because he starts explaining way faster than you thought he would. 

“I’m sorry! This is–I can leave if you’d like–” 

“It’s okay, Jeongguk,” you mumble. Your voice is soft. 

It’s okay. It’s more than okay. 

It’s better than okay. 

Jeongguk continues to panic, deaf to your obvious nonchalance about him popping a boner right after you almost blinded him. “I don’t–It just sort of happened-and-and I wasn’t like–thinking a-about you or doing anything–it just,” he pauses midway, sighs to catch his breath, stops nervously stuttering,  and then turns to get up which makes you a little nervous. “I’ll go to the bathroom and get rid of it–”

In a flash, your hand wraps around his wrist to stop him from moving. 

“It’s okay,” you repeat. “I’m not grossed out.” Literally, you are the complete opposite of that but barely you mull it over one last time before speaking up again. “I could fix it, if you’d like.” Just before your conscience could stop you.

This is it. This is your chance to have him. Just once, satiate that need, and then you can go back to normal. 

The universe practically handed you this opportunity on a golden platter so you should take it. Given that Jeongguk is down too. 

His eyes go adorably wide. “W-what?” Jeongguk stutters. 

“I could help you deal with it.”  You say once more. 

At least your voice is clear and sure. On the inside, you’re just a giant piece of adrenaline. 

Jeongguk relaxes some more, gulping, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob. His shoulders broaden like he’s trying to seem confident but you can tell that he’s nervous as fuck too. 

“Why would you do that?” 

Oh, you pretty thing. You have no idea, do you?

“I don’t mind,” you shrug. Feeling bold, the hand that rests on his shoulder squeezes the mass indulgently and Jeongguk feels exquisite. You want to rip all of these clothes off of his body. “You helped me with physics so,” trailing off, as if it’s the only logical solution to this problem. 

To you, it feels like it is. Trade an A on a quiz for an orgasm. 

Plus, you finally get to rid yourself of this intense sexual tension building inside of you. A combination of your hormones and your loneliness all cooked up to make a touch-starved mess at the tiniest thing. Being with Jeongguk could be just what you need to get your focus back on yourself. He’s gorgeous, inside and out, so there’s no intense guilt to bubble from letting some douchebag grow an even bigger ego by sleeping with you. 

Jeongguk is still apprehensive. “You… you know you don’t-like-owe it to me to fix this, right? Just because I got hard doesn’t mean it’s your job to do something for me.” 

You’re taken aback. 

Most guys wouldn’t have even protested. Your mouth would be on his dick and the minute they come, you’d be all alone. They’re the types to view sex in a very individualistic manner. 

A dopey smile makes its way to your lips. “I know. This isn’t a really transactional thing.” You cup his cheek with one hand this time and trace the deep scar there absentmindedly. “I actually want to do this.” 

If Jeongguk were to hear the insane things your brain produces, you wonder if he’d run for the hills or be flattered. Definitely the former. 

“Okay but um,” he avoids your eyes, looking off to the side and you sort of love Jeongguk like this. It’s so different from his nonchalant easygoing behavior.  “I’ve never,” he searches for the words, changes his mind halfway through, and finds another path. “No one has ever like-oh god this is embarrassing–”

You decide to save him. “No one’s ever given you a blowjob?” 

He nods behind his hands that rose to cover his reddening face during his reveal. God, he’s adorable. 

“Really?”

“Is that such a surprise?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re hot.” You say truthfully. His change of expression does wonders for your confidence. So much so that you decide to bite the bullet and run a hand through his hair affectionately. “How far have you gone?”

The strands are silky smooth, flowing through your fingers like water, and Jeongguk’s eyes flutter shut at the sensation as he mumbles out a response. 

“I kissed someone but only a few times. I got dragged to a high school party and played spin the bottle but nothing more than that.” 

This is new for you. Almost every guy you’ve ever been with is experienced or way more experienced than you. From the guy in high school who took your virginity all the way to Wooshik. And they varied from vanilla guys to those who are super into the dom/sub spiel. You’ve never been the experienced one and it feels different. 

Like you’re corrupting him, forcibly taking away something precious. Like Mrs. Robinson on the prowl for someone younger whom she can use to her advantage. 

And even though that isn’t the case with you and Jeongguk, you want this to be different than your first time. If anything, you want him to feel safe and wanted and to let him know that, at any point, if he wants to stop then it will stop. Just like there’s no obligation for you to make him feel good, there is no obligation for him to return the favor. 

“Then let’s start with that and then we can move on if you’re comfortable. Or we don’t have to do anything and we can just forget about it. Whatever you want.” 

You won’t do anything unless he wants you to. As much as you want to touch him, as much as you need sex, you’re totally fine with taking things at his pace. 

And if he rejects this entire thing and opts to fix his situation in the bathroom, that’s okay too. 

Jeongguk presses the back of his head against the wall in thought, giving you an amazing view of his jawline, until he shyly speaks. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” You want to be sure, hiding the fact that you are utterly elated on the inside.  Jeongguk just turns more red as he avoids your eyes peering into him. 

“You–we can start. I-if that’s what you want.” 

You exhale through your nose. “Oh, you have no idea how much I want to.” 

Before he can question you, you lean down and gently connect your lips with his. 

There’s a moment where it feels foreign, where your body becomes covered with goosebumps at the sheer adrenaline coursing through you and the way your brain freaks out at the change. This is happening, you’re finally doing this, but you take a second to just press and feel. Be in the moment and stop trying to control everything, then you’re fine. 

It’s easy because Jeongguk’s lips are pillowy soft. 

Starting off with a quick peck, you split for a second, nose brushing, and then you kiss Jeongguk again. This time it’s much stronger. Any lack of confidence melts when your lips move languidly against Jeongguk. He’s responsive to your every movement, feeling the inside of your mouth with his own, while his hands rest appropriately on your hips. His lip balm is rose flavored and delectable. Jeongguk is a good kisser. 

The noises fill the quiet apartment as you move closer and cup his jaw on one side while your other hand goes back to his silky soft hair to move your lips cohesively. You adjust yourself so that instead of kneeling between his legs, you’re straddling his thick muscular thighs and they feel exquisite against you, pulling a soft sigh from your lips. 

Jeongguk must feel your exhale, gaining some bravado to take the lead when he kisses you, setting the pace as his own hands begin to move from their comfortable spot on your hips. Part of you really wants to push them down to your ass to feel those big sexy hands grab a handful but you want to wait to see what he does.

He kisses you a little wet but wanton, igniting a deep burning flame inside of you. It’s bright, hot, and you can’t pull yourself away from him the more your lips collide, suckle, and slot. 

Jeongguk’s hands begin tracing up your back with a feather-light touch, and your lips part at the feeling when he unexpectedly inches his tongue into your mouth. 

Looks like he wasn’t lying when he said he’s kissed before. 

Crackles of pleasure bubble in you. Kissing can turn you on, if the guy is good at what he does, and Jeongguk is doing just that. That throbbing sensation takes over and you find yourself clenching around nothing, dreaming of having something just fill you just how you like. His tongue tangles with yours. The kiss starts to get much sloppier, something you didn’t realize you were craving until now, and you rise up on your knees while gently tugging on his hair in a flash of atypical roughness on your end. 

Your mind refuses to process that this is Jihyo’s little brother who is kissing you silly. Right now, he’s Jeongguk. 

Jeongguk with the gorgeous eyes and the gorgeous body who got hard the moment you inched closer. 

You decide to grind down on him, especially when the curve of his bulge becomes more prominent against your ass, and Jeongguk muffles a noise into your mouth. The fabric of your underwear drags across your neglected clit, pulling another sigh out of you. It’s a small jolt of pleasure and you can feel yourself dampen even more. From the action and from the way Jeongguk sounds. 

Another moan comes from Jeongguk when you grind against him again and again, whiny yet soft. It’s doing something to you. His hands squeeze your hips and then one drifts to the back of your thigh. 

Pulling away to catch your breath, you press your forehead against his. There’s a thin layer of sweat building on your skin but your arms loop comfortably around Jeongguk’s neck, tugging his body forwards. His eyes glimmer at you, with kiss-bruised lips and the beginnings of his pearly white bunny teeth peeking out from between. You resist the urge to dive down again, instead wanting to appreciate the absolute view you have right now. 

Your fingers tangle in a lock of his soft black hair. “You’re so gorgeous,” you whisper, taking in his forehead, his jawline, his perfect nose, and every single one of his moles. 

Jeongguk, who is already blushed and heavily breathing, gets even more shy at your compliment, looking away from you to avoid your teasing smile. Which just makes you want to shower him in more praise just to see how embarrassed he can get. 

“So pretty, so handsome,” your finger traces his jaw before going down to his unblemished neck where the skin looks so soft but the area is taut and beautiful. You want to see how he’d look with hickeys. “I want to mark you,” you point to the middle of the right side of his neck, “right here.” 

Jeongguk’s eyebrows raise to his hairlines. “You want to give me a hickey?” He says incredulously. You nod. 

“I want you to remember this.”

Usually, you aren’t the possessive type but you think about Juri, walking through campus and finding Jeongguk, someone that she’s expressed interest in, like this. Covered in marks you left, reeling after the pleasure you gave him. You know the chance is unlikely and if Jeongguk were to run into her, you doubt he’d tell her any bit of what you two had done but it’s the principle of it all. 

That she can be a misogynistic pick-me/not-like-the-other girl all she wants, you still pull better than she ever will. 

Maybe then, she’ll keep your name out of her damn mouth. 

Jeongguk exhales quietly, holding some weight. “Do you actually think I’ll forget this?” 

You smirk. “Dunno, but I can’t let a pretty little thing like you get away, can I? Especially with all of those other girls who love to stare.”

It happens often whenever you two would be walking from class or on public transport and people would stare at Jeongguk. Not that you’d blame them. With a face like that, Jeongguk could debut as an idol and win the hearts of millions, he could act or model even, but then you become more aware of the fact that someone even better could scoop him up at any time and you wouldn’t stand a chance against them. 

“I won’t,” he starts, shaking his head with eyes so honest and truthful that you almost collapse in his hold. “I won’t go away and I won’t forget, okay?” Jeongguk pleads with you, holding your body still with two exact hands on your hips. 

You swear your stomach feels a group of butterflies flapping about, along with unicorns and rainbows and glitter and all of that silly shit when Jeongguk says that. The hand in his hair cups his cheek, thumb tracing his cheekbone. 

“You won’t?”��

“Never,” Jeongguk presses firmly. “And,” he hesitates for a moment, “and I’m not looking at anyone else right now, either. There’s just you.” 

There’s just you. 

The sentence sounds like a confession. Like he’s being honest while you were just being horny and possessive. You feel your act drop, whatever front you were putting up, it drops, and you don’t know what to say at first. 

The truth? You aren’t thinking about anyone else either. You don’t want to. You want Jeongguk. There’s only Jeongguk right now. 

Had this been with any other person, you wouldn’t feel comfortable being honest with them. You wouldn’t trust them not to use that against you but you know Jeongguk and you trust Jeongguk more than anything. 

“I… I’m not looking at anyone either,” you manage to mumble out. Now you’re the one who is all red and shy. 

And watching Jeongguk’s expression change when you said that… priceless. 

He stares at you like you hung all of the stars in the sky, that you push the sun up in the sky every morning, like the dew droplets on the blades of grass, like it was just you. 

It’s perfect yet so much at the same time. You want to say more but you don’t know what else you could say so you meet his gaze, then dip down to his lips, and he nods so you lean in to kiss him again. 

He makes a noise of surprise, immediately licking fiercely into your mouth to meet the movements of your lips. Slowly, Jeongguk pulls away from the wall and begins moving down to lay against the bed, holding himself up with a forearm on the soft material and strengthening his hold on you so you wouldn’t slip off from him. 

You feel Jeongguk grin against your lips at your eagerness but he maintains the energy. Arching your back a little, mostly for show, you reach back and push one of Jeongguk’s hands further down to your ass. He’s been so careful and gentle with you so far and, as nice as it is, you want more. His eyebrows furrow against you, curling his palm over the tangible curve before giving your ass a tentative squeeze and pulling a muffled moan from you. 

So Jeongguk does it again. Does it with more vigor, digging his fingers into the flesh of your cheek and grinding his hips upwards. Gets you throbbing insufferably and so wet. 

“Jeongguk,” you gasp into his mouth, meeting the movement of his hips with your own. The bulge in his pants becomes really prominent as you break the kiss, moving down his strong jawline to his perfect neck. 

Whatever perfume he uses, the smell is strong now, filling your olfactory senses with sweet powdery softness. Your lips search for that spot you ache to mark, digging your teeth into the gentle flesh and soothing  the area over with your tongue. 

The noise he makes…

Jeongguk whimpered when you were sucking and biting on his skin. 

It took so much willpower for you to not rip his damn top off when that sound reached your ears. You were so wet and throbbing in your pants, desperate for some form of touch besides your soaked underwear against your clit. If you could, you’d cover his entire body with hickeys, paint his neck all sorts of beautiful colors if it were socially acceptable for someone to be walking around like that and not have everyone’s immediate thought be that he got jumped or something. 

But you practice restraint and suck on the hot skin, kissing, and doing your best to keep yourself under control even if your wetness was starting to become bothersome. Jeongguk’s hands on your ass don’t help with that either. 

The hold helps you feel the shape of his fingers which are pretty long and thick. You’ve seen them writing, typing, gripping onto the pole in the subway so the veins and tendons pop out and you’ve reached a conclusion that you need to feel them inside of you. Pumping deep and slow. Since the digits are longer than yours, they would reach that damned spot inside, turn you into a shaking, coming, mess. You crave that. 

Even before Wooshik, these dry spells weren’t uncommon. You know that it’s just your monthly horror revving up the hormones that’s making you want some dick like water in a desert but still. 

A girl has her needs. Especially when said girl is constantly hanging around a hot guy. 

Once you pull away from his neck after creating a total of three hickeys, you sit up. All of the kissing and petting and grinding has made you all sweaty so you quickly pull off your quarter-zip hoodie, leaving the plain t-shirt you have on underneath with no bra. 

Jeongguk’s eyes fall to the way your breasts lift and fall with the movement, jiggling into place as you throw the piece of clothing somewhere. The change in temperature has your nipples straining against the thin material and you can tell his attention has shifted. 

With a cocked brow, you smirk. “Want my shirt off?” You ask, slowly twisting the hem around a single finger. 

“Yeah.” 

His hands give your ass another appreciative squeeze. One that nearly has you dropping the control but you rebuild quickly. 

“Take this off then.” You place a hand down on the base of his stomach. Jeongguk’s shirt is thin so you can feel his stomach through the fabric. You need it off asap. 

Jeongguk’s lips part. You think he’s going to deny at first. Maybe he isn’t comfortable showing you his body yet. That’s okay; you don’t mind. Whatever he’s comfortable with, right? 

But in a split second, he grips the gray fabric and sits up slightly to peel it off of his body and gives you a view of what he has underneath. 

Which is just exquisite. 

Jeongguk treats his body like it’s a work of art. When he isn’t gaming or studying, he’s in the gym and he has one of the strictest meal plans you ever see. Allowing himself one cheat meal out of the week and then sticking to his rice, steamed veggie and lean meats for the rest of the days. And that dedication shows in the way his body looks. 

While still being thin and put together, his stomach is defined with steel-cut abs and his obliques are enviable along with sturdy shoulders, firm chest and deliciously bulky arms. 

You’ve never really cared about the body of whoever you were sleeping with. Muscles are nice and hot but they aren’t a necessity. Honestly, having a handsome/pretty face can get a guy farther than a six pack but now you might be changing your mind on that stance. Because Jeongguk has a pretty face and a six pack. 

Or is that a twelve pack? You didn’t really count. 

A single finger starts at Jeongguk’s sternum, tracing down his body to the waistband of his sweats, taking your time to appreciate every patch of skin and flesh. You inch backwards so you are sitting more on his thighs than his lap where his bulge is firmly straining against his pants. Looking all inviting. Your thighs clench together to relieve yourself from the lack of attention.

But before you can wrap your hands around him, Jeongguk’s fingers close around your wrist to stop you. 

“You said if I took my shirt off, you would too,” he reminds you. His tone is low, barely teetering into a domineering one. Brings a rush of arousal to your pussy and you immediately bite the inside of your cheek. 

Jeongguk ordering you around is… really hot. 

“Eager.” 

The plain t-shirt is rather unflattering on the outside so you do away with it quickly, feeling the mass of your breasts lift and bounce back down while adjusting to the temperature change. Your nipples are hard and goosebumps cover your upper body. 

But that’s mainly caused by the way Jeongguk’s eyes practically ravish you. 

You wonder if he’s more of an ass guy or a boob guy. Because his grip has stayed on the plump curve of your backside but his tongue swipes over his bottom lip while staring at your tits like he’s at the Louvre and he has two seconds to take a glance at the Mona Lisa. 

  There’s a sense of vulnerability to have him look at you like this. Like you’re something perfect when all everyone else, including yourself, does is point out your faults. 

It’s too much. You need to make a move, get his eyes off of you, so your hand goes back to the waistline of his pants where his boxer band flashes quickly. Calvin Klein, black in color to match the color of his sweatpants. 

“Can I?” You ask, looking down at the heavy print showing through the material and your mouth waters. 

Jeongguk nods immediately. “Please.” 

Carefully, you peel back the first layer of clothing. The tight elastic pressure around his waist is enough to slowly peel back Jeongguk’s boxers, exposing the beginning of his ilium but then he raises his hips some more until his sweatpants are pushed a little past the beginning of his quad muscles. You desperately want to see the sinew on his legs because you’ve been feeling them flex and move against you this entire time and they are just to your expectations. His skin is soft, a little tanned, thin hairs barely visible on his thighs from the hallowed light. 

“What do you want? My hand or my mouth?” 

You said a blowjob but whatever he wants, you will do. 

His eyes darken with lust. “Y-your hand, first,” Jeongguk stutters, shaking some hair off his sweaty forehead.  You try not to smile excitedly at the word first. 

“Okay.” 

After pressing one more kiss on his perfect nose, your palm cups his bulge. Against the material, you can see somewhat of a defined shape. It’s thick, impressive looking, and your wetness is soaking through your pants, effectively ruining the pair but that’s the least of your concerns. You fight the urge to grind into something, relieve some of the throbbing pressure from your core, clenching around nothing in hopes that it will fix. 

Jeongguk says your name carefully, checking to see if you’re still okay with continuing and your attention is back on him. You give him a wry smile in response and then work on slowly tugging his boxers off of his hips to free his cock. 

You gasp when his length slaps against his bare stomach, incapable of holding it in. 

 He’s big and thick; bigger and thicker than any guy you’ve ever been with. Jeongguk’s dick is pretty. Two veins trailing up the sides and pulsating with blood, the tip peeking with a small droplet of pearly white pre-cum. 

“Fuck,” you curse, reaching a hand forward to barely wrap around him. Your fingers manage to encompass the whole circumference but you can only accredit that to your long digits. Otherwise he would be too girthy. 

Jeongguk’s eyes flutter shut when you pump his length once. His jawline strains sexily as little puffs of air escape his lips. He looks so good when he’s pleased. As if he was made to only look like that. The emotion sits perfectly on his pretty features. 

A bead of pearly white fluid seeps from the stop, collecting slightly over the flesh-toned head. You lick your lips. “I don’t think you’ll fit in my mouth.” 

“W-what?” He stammers. 

“You’re too big, baby,” you purr, panicking momentarily about the pet name. “Shit,” swearing under your breath when you feel him twitch. Then, you let a fat drop of spit fall from your mouth and onto the head to aid your hand gliding up and down. “My throat will definitely be sore tomorrow.” 

Not that you’re complaining. 

The boy beneath you flushes. “I–” his breathing quickening when your hand works over him expertly, barely a moan. “You–um–you don’t have to,” Jeongguk offers. 

You coo, reaching forward to boop Jeongguk’s cute little nose with your free hand, still slowly jerking his cock with the other, giving the fat length a nice squeeze at the base. “But I want to,” forcing a pout and watching his gaze turn heady with euphoria. “Don’t you want me to use my mouth? To suck you off nice and properly?” 

This is new for you. You are usually rather submissive in bed and you’ve always liked it that way. If anything, you sought after guys who were more dominant because it was an immediate turn-on for you but now that you’ve made Jeongguk all pliant and soft, you can’t stop. He just looks so perfect. His eyes clench shut, creases appearing at the sides when your hands squeeze his length teasingly on the upstroke, legs going more rigid. 

Jeongguk doesn’t respond at first so you lean down, holding yourself up with one hand splayed on the mattress, right next to his head, and increase the pace of your hand. You pay special attention to the tip and the spot right under where he’s sensitive, rubbing a thumb over the area to collect more precum on the way down his cock. Jeongguk sputters out a soft noise, gritting his teeth tightly. 

“You have to tell me what you want, Jeongguk,” you muse. The tips of your noses graze, your breasts meeting his hot skin. Jeongguk’s hands, which switched to curling into the fabric of your duvet, go to your thighs to squeeze them. At that point, you decide to only stimulate the head of his cock with the pad of your thumb, rubbing teasingly tight circles while Jeongguk leaks all over, rivulets of creamy white decorating his length.  “My hands? Or my mouth? What do you want me to do?”

Jeongguk goes crazy.  His back arches off the mattress along with a high whine emitting from his swollen lips. He looks so overwhelmed with red cheeks and his hands gripping onto your body like it’s a lifeline. 

“Y-your mouth! I want your mouth, please,” he whines once more, digging his nails into your thighs, surely leaving indents. You smile, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips before descending down his taut body. 

Jeongguk is a work of art after all and you need time to appreciate him. 

Your hands stop their tortuous movement, leaving Jeongguk’s cock to hold yourself up while inching down. You kiss down the right side of his neck. The skin is salty from sweat but you don’t mind. You kiss all the marks you left, the mole on his chest, the beginning of his abs (you pay special attention to this area), licking up a stripe to feel the ridges of his body before you end up on your knees in between his legs. 

While you were kissing him, Jeongguk kicked his sweatpants off his legs, allowing you to capture a full glimpse of his meaty thighs. His skin is flawless and soft looking and you bookmark the thought of leaving red lines atop his thighs while riding him like a fucking stallion for later. 

His length deliciously twitches again from the brief lack of touch. You eye it for a split second, mouth watering, before taking the head between your lips. He throws his head back in satisfaction. 

Jeongguk tastes good. A mix of skin, salt, but he isn’t bitter; soft, pliable skin meets the plush membrane in your mouth. You moan out while your tongue circles the head, awarding you with a fresh spurt of pre-cum. 

Giving head isn’t everyone’s favorite (totally understandable) but it’s definitely yours. You don’t know why, maybe you have an oral fixation that you don’t know about, but it always makes you wet and desperate for more. Especially when the guy you’re blowing has hot moans like Jeongguk does. 

“Fuck,” he drawls out, while your tongue moves over him. He wraps a hand around the back of your hair gently, barely pushing you down to take more of him into your mouth. 

Ideally, you’d punish Jeongguk for that. If you were continuing this dominatrix stint you have going on then he shouldn’t be pushing you and trying to choke you but you drop the whole act. 

Because he feels so good. 

Your wetness is trickling down the swell of your ass as more of your mouth stretches to accommodate his length. The back of his head is about to reach the back of your throat when you wrap a hand around to pump what you can’t reach. It’ll be impossible to take him all in one go. You need to warm up first. Fat rivulets of spit trail down to his base and collect there to ease your ministrations. 

“So good,” Jeongguk praises, tangling his fingers in your hair while the wet sucking noises filter through your apartment. “You’re s-so good at this.” 

Jeongguk’s low voice isn’t helping you. Another pathetically whiny noise is muffled by his big dick going back into your mouth, swallowing around the tip as you take a little more than before. 

Swirling your mouth, using the inside of your cheek, the side of your tongue and the puckered membrane of your lips in conjunction with your nimble hands, jacking his thick cock and feeling the skin get hotter, wetter, with every second that passes by. 

He’s probably big enough to make you squirt. Though, you are the type to squirt easily, but guys around his size tend to hit the g-spot head on, to turn you into a shaking, coming, moaning mess in their arms. The thought really gets you going, imagining yourself sinking down on him like a Queen perched on her throne and spilling all over his thighs with a loud noise. 

Would he like it? Would he want to see you do it again? 

Fuck, you need a little bit of friction here. The combination of sucking him off, Jeongguk’s breathy whiny noises, and the deranged thoughts in your brain make your pussy so needy, demanding attention. 

You think about reaching back and rubbing yourself, just for a second, but your brain is too transfixed on Jeongguk. 

“P-please don’t stop-p,” he begs, “Please–Ah, yes.” Sounding like he’s about to cry. 

Your wrist flicks up during your motions while you pay special attention to the head. Jeongguk twitches some more and judging by how hard he grips your hair, he must be close. 

So you make sure your tongue stimulates all of the areas that make Jeongguk quiver in your hold. Your back arches, suckling at the skin. 

“Can I,” he interrupts himself with a moan, hands shaking, “Can I cum in your mouth?” He asks politely. 

You pull off with a breathy sigh, moving your hand to respond. “Please.” You want to taste more of him, until he’s filling your throat up completely. 

Sinking back down, you take in as much of him as you can, deep-throating his cock to the best of your abilities. It’s wet, the noises are filthy, salacious, but you don’t really care that much. Jeongguk’s cock twitches again as he spurts into your mouth, awarding you with his release as he whines throughout. 

And like a good girl, you swallow every last drop, refusing to let even a tiny drop of it go to waste. 

Jeongguk pants. His fingers slip out of your ratty hair and his hand slap over his forehead while he collects himself. His thighs shake with the aftershocks of his orgasm, sweat collected at the enticing dip of his collarbones, making his skin look like it’s speckled with diamonds. While you sit up slowly and wipe the back of your mouth, tucking his slowly softening length back into his boxers with a soft pat. 

For a few seconds, he doesn’t say anything to you. All Jeongguk does is try to catch his breath, probably slow his heart rate a bit. 

In that short period of time, your brain speeds at 100 miles per second. Did Jeongguk like it? Did Jeongguk hate it? Will he let you do it again? Oh my god, do you want to do it again and again and again. Is he uncomfortable around you now? What next? 

Your thighs are folded under you, watching Jeongguk’s stomach tense and flex as he leans on his elbows to look at you. 

His lips are adorable pouty and the hickeys look really pretty on his skin. You want so much more from him but you’re too afraid to vocalize it. You don’t want to stop. You don’t want to wake up and force this memory out of your brain. Jeongguk is so pretty and perfect and so easy to want. 

“C’mere,” he says softly, exhaling quickly with a stupid grin. Unsure if he meant his lap or right next to him, you shuffle closer until Jeongguk pats the space next to his body and you move accordingly. Hands an knees on the bed like a slinking cat. 

The air, which was once zinging with tension, has simmered down a little. Jeongguk’s arm stretches out for you to lean your head on his bicep. Up close, his eyes sparkle more than the stars in the night sky as Jeongguk pushes all of the loose strands of hair out of your sweaty face. 

“You were really good,” he repeats. “Thank you for that.” 

It feels weird to be thanked for sucking dick so you shake your head. “No need to thank me.” And because it doesn’t hurt to be truthful, you open your mouth once more. “I really wanted to.” 

Jeongguk’s expression warms; his smile gets wider and his cheeks get rounder. His thumb traces the curve of your jaw, dancing over your features like he’s trying to commit them to memory again.

“So can I return the favor?” 

Your heart leaps to your throat. You were sure Jeongguk was under the impression that this was a simple blowie, the end. Nothing else and nothing more. Even though you wanted more, you were ready to leave this romp at that but he proves you wrong once again. 

You raise an eyebrow. “You want to?” 

Most guys don’t. Most guys give up the second they cum without even offering.

But Jeongguk fucking smirks when he noticed your shocked expression. “I really want to,” he copies you. 

Fuck, you think. You put on a nice pair of underwear thinking that this would happen and then the entire tutoring session you were gaslighting yourself into thinking that nothing would ever happen and now here you are. 

There’s no doubt in your mind that you want this. Your panties are soaked and your core is aching to be touched. You need it so bad that you might never forgive yourself for turning this down.  

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” Jeongguk repeats. 

“Touch me. Please Jeongguk,” you plead with him, placing a soft hand on his warm chest. The breath is just about to escape you when he leans in to kiss you with his supple lips. 

You almost cringe. You must taste like him and you’re sure that there’s still some moisture collected in the corner of your mouth but Jeongguk doesn’t care. He licks hotly into your mouth, taking control during the kiss which surprises you completely. 

Gone is the shy whimpering boy who begged you not to stop. Jeongguk’s fingers squeeze your hips then pull one of your legs over his thighs so that you get even closer to him and your center is more exposed. That same hand travels upwards to your tits and cups the mass, and it’s your turn to shake in his hold. 

He’s starting off perfectly, like he knows what moves drive you crazy just by looking at you. 

You sigh softly when your lips break and he begins kissing down your neck. Unlike you, Jeongguk doesn’t leave any marks. Instead, he’s strategic about creating a clean line from your mouth, smooching along your jaw, then the side of your neck, to the middle of your collarbones before meeting your boobs. Jeongguk hauls you up the bed a little so he’s facing your chest instead, bringing your body closer with a splayed hand on your back. 

“Jeongguk,” you try, unsure as to why you’re calling him out. Jeongguk pays you no attention, transfixed by your naked breasts. He expels something inaudible under his breath and then takes one of your nipples into his mouth while tweaking the other, causing your body to go rigid. 

His lips wrap around the bud, sucking and circling his tongue over it while his other hand tweaks and pulls at the other. Like his tongue, his finger moves in time to turn you into a pile of mush. You grind onto nothing, wishing it was his thigh instead because you need friction from how wet and needy you’ve become in the span of like 20 minutes. 

Moaning out at the feeling of him slowly stimulating you, Jeongguk switches to the other one until your nipples are left shiny, wet, and puffy from his lips and tongue. 

He picks up fast, it seems. While kissing down your stomach, he asks you, “What do you want me to do?” Just like you did. 

“Anything,” you respond. You don’t care what he does, you just want him to do something. 

Jeongguk shakes his head. “Gotta give me a real answer,” he pulls up a little closer to your face, cupping your swollen bottom lip thanks to all of his work. “Tell me.”

“I,” you start. In all honesty, you wouldn’t mind anything from him. But you feel the length of his fingers, thick and perfect, and you remember your pressing desire of having them inside of you. “I want your fingers,” deciding on that. 

He grins softly at how cute you become when you’re overwhelmed. Jeongguk doesn’t wait around any longer, fingers going to the waistline of your yoga pants and tugging them down slowly. They’re tight, sticking to you like a second skin, so they snag along the meat of your thighs. Jeongguk doesn’t seem to mind as the fabric bunches up into a little ring and you kick it off to a random spot on your floor. 

Cold air meets your soaked underwear, making you cringe at the feeling, totally unaware of the way Jeongguk gapes at the flimsy little thing hugging your hips. He gently traces the band over your pelvis, almost like he’s hesitation. 

You open your mouth, ready to check in to see if Jeongguk still wants to do this for you or not, but before you can, his fingers dip into your panties to feel just how wet you are from him. 

His expression morphs beautifully. “You’re…” he’s speechless at first. Jeongguk’s finger trails up and down your center, barely grazing your sensitive clit. 

A whimper escapes you. His touch is feather light and barely enough yet so much all at once. 

“Fuck,” he groans, hiding his face into crook of your neck, soaking up all of your arousal while his ears and neck get bright red. You’d be embarrassed by the rushing gush coating you even more if Jeongguk’s thumb hadn’t stopped at your clit to draw tight, short, slow circles. 

Such a gentle pace, way less intense than the bullet vibrator you’ve been using, and the pressure builds gradually. One of your hands wind in his hair and the other grips his bicep, openly feeling him up. 

“Fucking soaked,” Jeongguk grits, moving his thumb a little faster. 

Your eyes shut. “Oh J–” interrupted by a shaky noise spilling from your mouth. Jeongguk takes that as a good sign, deciding to torture you even further by moving his lips back to your stiffened nipples and using his tongue to suck and lick at them as if you aren’t already sensitive. 

“You’re pretty too, noona,” Jeongguk says, looking at you this time. Slowly, your eyes peel open to find his big brown irises glimmering at you. “I think you’re beautiful. Always have.” 

You blush immediately. You don’t know why this feels so intensely intimate, like a pan that’s gotten too hot. Is it Jeongguk’s tone, the fact that he’s so close, the way he looks at you to make sure you know and understand him? What is it that has you so stupefied by such a simple comment? 

Boys have called you pretty before, called you much worse too, but you should be used to it. Over the years you’ve started to develop a thick skin but this one gets to you. 

That flutter of butterflies comes back, dancing from the tip of your toes all the way to your head. Jeongguk has seen you grow, from a kid to a pre-teen and now an adult. 

And he still finds you beautiful. Even after every embarrassing phase. 

You begin to smile, cupping his cheeks and leaning down to press a short kiss to his lips, then the corner of his lips, his cheek and his nose, because he deserves it and he’s cute. 

“Thanks,” you mean it, even if the sweet moment cut all of the flourishing beginnings of an orgasm from you and Jeongguk’s fingers halted, out of your underwear and holding your hip instead. 

Jeongguk mirrors your expression. Then he looks down at where his hand is and back up at you, nervously tonguing his cheek. “Can I move now?” 

You nod your head yes quickly after he asks. 

“And…” Jeongguk still looks awkward. You go back to cupping his soft cheeks. “Tell me if I’m doing okay?”

You want to melt in his grip. “Of course, Guk.” Thumb swiping over his cheekbone affectionately. 

Jeongguk takes that as the greenlight and slips his fingers back into your underwear. His gaze is on you, studying your features when his thumb goes back to your clit while his middle finger teases around your opening. You clench, desperate for something to slip inside of you, lifting your hips up in hope that Jeongguk would take the hint and put his fingers inside but he continues collecting your arousal to get his digits wet enough. 

“Jeongguk,” you call tightly, digging your nails into the meat of his shoulders. He hums in response. “I need more.” 

His thumb decides to go faster at your demand but not fast enough and his middle finger still traces your opening instead of slipping inside. 

“More?” He repeats, lilting his voice teasingly. 

Shithead. 

“Yes, more.”  You want to whine, kick your legs even. 

He can feel how wet you’ve gotten, does he not know how much you want this? 

“You want my fingers?” 

“Yes,” you grumble but it sweetens at the end because his thumb starts moving faster over your clit and you feel the waves of pleasure swirling in your stomach, turning into a half-moan. 

Jeongguk angles his hand a little differently and, gently, pushes his middle finger inside you. He groans at the feeling of you. “So tight,” breathing out against your skin. 

You react immediately, throwing your head back. There’s a slight pinch but it's not even the slightest bit painful. The intrusion is welcomed; although small, you need it. Jeongguk’s finger is nice and long and he pistons it out of you with so much care while hitting just the spot. 

“Fuck, right there,” you moan out, turning your face into the soft material of your sheets, eyes rolling back.

Jeongguk slips another finger in and he stops teasing your throbbing bundle of nerves to focus fully on moving his digits, curving them upwards to your walls as you release a symphony of noises. Finding that soft spongy part inside of you and massaging it. 

“F-faster please, please, go faster,” begging him out of the fear that he’ll tease you just like he was doing before. 

But Jeongguk plays fair and fingers you even faster, upping the ante even more by removing his free hand and pressing down on your lower stomach, right before your pelvis. 

And you lose it. 

The pressure from his hand on top, plus the way his fingers are moving, just becomes too much. The  gradual pressure starts accelerating and accelerating until it drops like a rollercoaster and you feel a burst of tingling pleasure rush through your veins and all over your body. 

“I’m cumming!” Crying out, tears pooling inside your eyes streaming down your cheeks as your legs shake with the crashing waves of your orgasm. 

Different than when you do it. As good as your vibrator is, something about it has yet to make you orgasm like this. Heavy, powerful, almost numbing. Waves crash inside you, again and again, cresting at the peak and slowly simmering out into a soft current and then nothing at all. 

Your breath comes out in heavy pants, limbs feeling like jelly, slowly opening your eyes to find Jeongguk staring back at you in bewilderment. His lips are parted but his cheeks aren’t red with embarrassment. If anything, he looks like the complete opposite of that. 

Like he could watch you do that again and again. Something you would gladly agree with. 

Jeongguk takes his fingers out from your underwear, glistening with your arousal, and before you can offer him a napkin, he slips his digits into his mouth and cleans them off. You really begin to question if this man is a virgin or secretly a sex god waiting to be discovered. He’s way better than you were when you were inexperienced. Does he watch a lot of porn?

Or do Taehyung and Jimin just talk about sex around him too much? Must be that. 

“Mmh,” his fingers come out with a soft pop noise, “You taste amazing.” Jeongguk’s clean hand brushes some hair out of your face as he smiles. You lean into his touch like a purring kitten, curling into his chest because your entire body feels weak. 

“You okay?” Jeongguk asks, closing his arms around you. 

Nodding into his chest, “Yeah. Felt really good.” You want to say more but there’s no energy for you to do so. 

“Did it? You looked really hot when,” trailing off, you know what he means, and you press a kiss to his chest. “Kinda want to see it again.” 

That takes your attention. 

Removing the fact that you haven’t been touched in a bit, two orgasms from Jeongguk might put your legs out of commission and that was just with his fingers. You can’t imagine what it would be like with more of him, especially as he learns more about how to pleasure you and gets better. Your poor vibrator might be out of a job. 

“I would love to, but you definitely wore me out.” Pulling your face away, you look up at his perfectly crafted face. “Can we try that another time?” 

Another time, you get giddy even before he agrees. After getting addicted to Jeongguk’s touch, you don’t want to entertain the idea of this being a one time thing. 

“Of course.” And neither does he. 

Jeongguk kisses the top of your head gently, rubbing soothing circles on your back. You tangle your legs with his, inhaling his scent and doing your best not to fall asleep. 

It feels sticky and wet between your legs. You should change and you should get ready for bed. Jeongguk probably wants to go back to his house, right? He probably doesn’t want to stick around your place after what just happened. 

But you think about it and that’s the farthest thing you want. 

Being in his arms, you feel safe and protected, like you drifted off to another dimension where nothing bad has ever happened and you were still the girl you were when you left Busan. Happy and lively. 

You don’t want him to leave you. You don’t want this to be another shitty hookup or one-time thing that makes both of you blush and walk-away. You just want Jeongguk to be in your life. 

So you hold on tight, avoiding his eyes when you ask: “Do you want to stay here with me tonight?”

Please, please, you beg internally. You’ll make breakfast, there’s a pack of toothbrushes under your sink, anything. Just stay. 

And thankfully, Jeongguk responds without wasting another second of your time, putting you at ease once again.  

“Please.”

a/n: okay yes, that was a lot but more smut will come and more angst will follow!

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@iwuzhere

[toppamplemousse]

Hiii!!! I loved bottle episode so much!! I don't know if I can do that but I saw your end notes so... is it possible if we can get a Max pov for when Charles came back after a year? Thanks!!

hi!!!! firstly, THANK YOU. secondly, YES. this was always in my head when i wrote it because like, obvi this scene is devastating for charles but POOR MAX. anyway. max pov below the cut :) MWAH

bottle ep on ao3 | bonus pt 1

bottle episode; bonus pt 2

He knew he didn’t have to come in today, but he couldn’t help it. It’s not about being a control freak, it’s just about–

Well. It’s about pride, Max thinks. He hasn’t worked his ass off at this bar for one busy Saturday night when he’s not there to ruin it. It’s been a while since he took the weekend off. A lot has changed.

His mind is everywhere. Trying to think of everything all at once, thoughts and reminders rushing through his brain with nothing sticking and nothing actionable happening, and he feels like he is just sitting in his office, brain on standby.

Max sighs, running his hands through his hair. Messing it up. Running them back through to help. He pulls out a notepad and a pen, trying to jot down the tasks he should try to complete before Gia shows up and he has to leave. His hand is back in his hair without realizing it. Fuck.

Taking a deep breath, he makes a checklist. 

Review forecast. Double check staffing. Bar check: make sure bar is clean; chairs are neatly arranged; dishwasher works. Storewalk: menus stocked behind counter; plants watered; new display on show. Hair combed. Lint roll pants free of cat hair.

Ring in pocket.

There’s a jolt in his stomach. It’s a good one. A nervous one. One where it’s exciting and nerve wracking and his heart feels like it's racing and his skin feels a little itchy. All good things come with a bit of nerves. They’re not worth doing otherwise.

He gets up, deciding to walk around the bar first, trying to expel some of the energy out of his system. Calm down a little. 

There’s a routine for him, an order to it. Like his brain can visually check off boxes as he goes around. As he makes his way through the high top tables, Ollie comes in.

“Max!” He waves, his mouth smiling wide, showing his typically-English teeth behind his grin. “I thought you weren’t coming in today? Isn’t it–”

“Yes, yes,” Max cuts him off, not wanting someone else to say it, to put it into motion. “Yes, that’s today.”

Ollie raises his eyebrows and winks. Max looks away, taking a deep breath. Through his nose, out his mouth. 

Gia will be so pleased. So happy. She’ll give her big goofy grin and her loud laugh, and maybe she’ll cry a little, and she’ll want to tell her mother and call her best friend. She’ll turn to Max and hug him and put the ring on – fitting perfectly, just what she wanted. They haven’t discussed it fully in detail, but they know enough.

She’s like that, Gia. Straightforward, just like Max. It’s what he first liked about her. After— well, once the weather got colder and they met and she just worked and they clicked and then months had passed. And Max can see it; them, together, New York. A family, maybe, down the line. 

There’s a certain peace to it. He’s nervous about this evening, the actual asking, but he’s not nervous about the rest. A calmness that comes with knowing what’s ahead, of knowing it’s with her. Of less what ifs, and more when’s. 

They work. He loves her. There’s peace. 

Ollie starts to set up the bar, working on cutting the mint leaves into garnish-sized portions. He’s a relatively recent hire, a college student needing something for the summer. Max likes him; he’s diligent, bright-eyed and eager. 

Max zones back in, heading to his office to check the forecast and staffing list for tonight. His brain feels calmer, able to check most of the items off his list and feel the weight lift slightly off his shoulders. 

He’s midway through looking at the financials when his phone pings, jolting him. Liam flashes up on the screen. It’s never a good sign. 

Max feels his stomach churn again as he reads that Liam apparently now can’t come in because he’s sick. And maybe, if Max was working, he’d let it slide, and say no worries, and just plan to be down a waiter and promise the ones who do come in today something a little extra. 

But Max isn’t working today, and he can’t bear the thought of anything even remotely not correct. He rings Oscar, ready to beg for them to come in. 

He walks out of his office, tapping his jacket pocket once again to confirm that the ring box hasn’t somehow evaporated suddenly or grown legs and jumped out and is sitting in the garbage disposal. It’s there. 

“No— I told Liam, he can’t call out this late, I can’t—“

There’s no way. 

Max has to be hallucinating. 

There’s no way, there’s not one universe, not one alternate reality, where he has just come out of his office and there, sitting at the bar, boyishly beautiful and sucking all the air out of Max’s lungs—

Is Charles. 

”I’ll call you back.”

Charles smiles at him, and it’s lethal. 

It’s heart-stoppingly, blood-curdingly lethal, and it aches and it aches and it aches. There’s two front teeth and a perfect cupid's bow and dimples so deep Max used to get lost in them. For a moment, a moment so small there would be no scientific name for it, not even enough time for it to be recorded anywhere, Max feels a surge of hope. Of happiness. He’s there, just like how Max had hoped. 

There’s Charles. Sitting. Smiling. Shattering every piece of Max he had worked so fucking hard to repair. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Max means for it to be a question, but it’s flat, monotone, as though a transcriber might put a period at the end of the sentence instead of a question mark. He watches the cogs turn behind Charles’ eyes briefly, the warm, soft gaze gathering just slightly more of an edge. 

“I am back in the city briefly.” 

Max refuses to think about whether Charles had to choose to be in the city, or if he truly had a few days. It doesn’t matter. Charles continues. 

“I didn’t text but— well, I just thought I would come see you.”

Max responds with a hello. 

He wants to respond with a scream. 

He wants to push Charles square in the chest and ask him what the fuck he was thinking, showing up out of the blue, after one fucking year, with not even a crumb of communication. So fucking typical of Charles not to think, to just do, and expect everything and everyone to fall into place, just because he so willed it.  To not think about how it might make Max feel. About whether it’s a dumb fucking idea. About whether it makes Max want to tear his hair out and then his whole life down and start again, eighteen months rewound, and ignore the drunk stranger outside the pizza place. 

“Hi, Max.”

It’s enough to make him falter. The way Charles says his name, tongue curled around the syllable of it, dancing so beautifully off those lips. How the last time he heard it, it was through tears. 

And then Charles reaches his hand forward, crossing the no man's land of the bar between them, the space Max had specifically put there. He reaches his hand forward like he doesn’t even think about it, and Max flinches. Recoils. 

A flicker crosses through Charles’ eyes. Maybe a year ago Max would have pointed it out. 

And as if God is playing a cruel, cruel joke on him, as though it wasn’t enough already, and if Max didn’t know any better he would assume Charles just wants to twist and twist the knife until Max can’t even breathe— Charles just continues speaking. The voice he replayed over and over until he could barely remember which sounds Charles couldn’t pronounce and which English terms tripped him up — that voice just floats in his goddamn bar. 

“Well, I know you’re working tonight but I managed to get a reservation at Pizzetta 644 on Tuesday, it’s a little late but I thought we could go, since you mentioned it last time and you know pizza is what–”

Max shakes his head. Charles can’t— he’s not— 

He takes one moment to be grateful that Ollie showed up early, that Ollie still stands there, trying not to eavesdrop but failing. Without him, Max might have yelled, might have smashed a glass. Might have done something worse, like throw himself at Charles. 

And God, who clearly takes no care of Max and only finds his existence one big fucking joke, a game of poker that no one, not even the dealer can win, plays his next card. 

Gia walks in. 

She looks beautiful, like Max anticipated. Max has a feeling she knows, said something about getting her nails done. Her hair falls around her shoulders, no doubt because Max has expressed his preference in that style on her, and she walks right into the sheer mess of a glue trap she doesn’t know exists. 

Sunglasses pushed up to her hair, she leans in and gives Max a kiss. His cheek burns. He can feel Charles’ eyes stinging through his skin. Max rests his hand on her hip, to stop him from doing something foolish. 

Max clears his throat. “Gigi, this is Charles, a friend of mine.”

What are you supposed to say when the love of your life, the one who filled you with an emotion too bright to name, to full to encapsulate, the one who didn’t only fit but who just was, what are you supposed to say when they crash your perfectly sufficient life? What do you call them? What do you say?

Not enough.

“Charles, this is my girlfriend, Gia.”

It feels so dismissive. His friend, his girlfriend. Max never thought he’d have to consider them in the same place, in the same thought. Gia knows he has dated others. Max assumed at some point, years down the road, they’d be drunk and giggling and reminiscing on their foolish twenties, and Gia might tell a story about a clumsy hookup or some on-off boyfriend, and Max would laugh and say I had a messy summer with some finance boy.

He wouldn’t mention Monaco, he wouldn’t mention the pizza place, the bar cart, the edibles at the museum, the flowers on the counter when he got home and the wine in the fridge and the affection the two cats had for him.

He wouldn’t mention any of that, and Charles would be reduced to a single line, a crossed-out section of his love life. 

Gia reminds him they have to go. It’s a reservation Max made, for them, to solidify their future. And before, Max was nervous and jittery, but now, he’s furious. Storming into his bar, ruining his plan, messing up his checklist. How could Max have possibly accounted for this? He didn’t jot down previous love of your life shows up on the one fucking day you could really not use it on his godforsaken notepad. 

“See you later.”

This time, where a period would be ideal, a question mark comes out. Max doesn’t know if he will see Charles later. He’s not sure he wants to. 

But God, does he. 

With Gia’s soft hand in his, they leave the bar. He waves to Ollie. He doesn’t look back at Charles. 

He had planned this dinner so well. So perfectly. Just how Gia would want. And now, of course, Charles ruins it. 

Max can’t think. He can barely read the menu, even though he had already decided what he was going to get in advance. Gia can tell, obviously, that he’s shaken. Maybe it would be better if Gia knew it was because of Charles, but Max can sense that she thinks Max is nervous to propose. And God, what he would give for that to be the case now. For it to be 45 minutes earlier, when his biggest concern was making sure the ring was in his pocket, not that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull it out at all. 

It burns, the box. Pressed right into his lungs and sapping him of breath. Suffocating. 

After the appetizers, he goes to the bathroom. Looks at himself in the mirror. And there’s no other option. 

With Charles, there was never any other option. 

He’s come in at the worst time, he’s blown up Max’s life as he knows it, he’s crumpled everything Max has tried to step beyond for the past year. And yet, the moment Max laid eyes on those beautiful dimples, on that soft smile, Max knew there was no other option. 

That no matter how hard he tried to bury it, whether he pushed it down so far beneath the peace and the stability and the love for Gia, it’s never far enough. Like a disease that Max would so gladly succumb to, letting it spread to the end of every limb, letting it cover his whole body. 

The option, the one where Charles does want him back, truly, honestly, forever — he couldn’t ever turn that away. 

The ring stays in his pocket. 

He apologizes to Gia when he tells her it’s over. He lets a tear fall alongside her sobs, and squeezes her hand. Asks for forgiveness. 

And then he puts his two weeks notice in at Bar Vasseur, buys two travel carriers for pets, and books a one way plane ticket. 

[sparklingcid3r]

soda is obvi the most emotionally mature of his siblings and can always see people for what they actually are that even when paul and darry were best friends (and more obvi) he still saw that paul was gonna fuck him over like could tell that even apart from the soc of it all, paul was not there for the right rzns and was gonna hurt darry. also y he is so defensive of darry bc he is the only one of the gang that sees that darry rly is alone now socially and wants tb there for him

Soda really was an empath🙏

But you’re so right, he was probably more in touch with other people’s feelings than his own (that’s a discussion for another post tho lmao). It does make it interesting to insert his perspective into relationships like Darry and Paul, Tulsa’s first situationship<3

Soda HATEDDD Paul from the get go. And yeah sure, maybe it was because he was a Soc to start with, but he just didn’t like the person he was making Darry out to be, which was ultimately someone he wasn’t. It wars with the person Darry could have been, but not even Soda has all the answers about what goes on in people like Darry’s heads.

It wasn’t even like it was a secret. Paul was so obviously uncomfortable around other greasers, there was no way he was going to change his mindset because of Darry alone, but would rather change Darry to suit his own idyllic world. Soda saw everything, the good and the bad. He saw the laughter on both of their faces when they’re walking down the halls of Will Rogers, Darry’s arm thrown around Paul’s shoulders in both mocking and genuine displays of friendship with their other football buddies. Just because it was mounting to implosion doesn’t mean they didn’t love each other, at least sometimes.

But Soda saw Paul when Darry wasn’t around, hanging out of red Mustangs and honking at kids walking on their own down the streets, shoving greasers to the ground and stealing worthless pocket change, or just handing out fat lips like candy. It wasn’t even about Socs and greasers at the end of it all, it was about power. Paul had a lot of it over Darry, even if Darry would flex his muscles and say otherwise. One word from Paul about how, actually, Darry has nothing to show for himself as to why he ought to run with the West side, and it’s over for Darry. Even legally, when speaking to police, Paul probably has much more sway with his word than Darry does.

I love love love that you say Paul is the reason Soda’s so defensive over Darry because you’re right and should never shut up about it🫶

Soda was veryyyy aware of the impending doom of the relationship as a whole, seeing as Darry didn’t really hang out with greasers that weren’t part of the gang. So when it falls apart, Darry’s got no one to fall back on. He was completely isolated by both Socs and greasers once the Curtis parents died, and for once, Soda’s got to be his rock. It didn’t even get better after Darry got the boys settled back into something of a normal life. Sure, he’s got work buddies he can get a beer with, but Soda knows that Darry’s far more closed off about his personal life with strangers now. They don’t know what Darry doesn’t want them to know, and they’ll never be what Paul was to him.

Soda’s probably the only one who’s seen Darry at his worst, so I’d honestly say protective isn’t enough to cover what Soda feels for Darry. Soda knows that his work at the DX is only a fraction compared to what Darry does day in and day out, so it’s on sight for whoever decides to talk shit about his brother and his “wet blanket” of a personality.

Anyway I kind of want to talk more about Soda in the future so if anyone has any thoughts they’d want my opinion on, I’m so down 🙏 I feel like I still ended up neglecting him in this so I want to fix that soon with some new fun little think pieces

But thinking about Darry’s apparent lack of a social life got me for some reason, I’m so sad for him oml😭 brother has nothing going for him!!

lol but tysm for the ask!! had fun w this one🫶

[cinnbar-bun]

Dio w/ an S/O who Celebrates Ramadan

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~750

Notes: Muslim!GN!Reader. So yeah, obvy talking about religious beliefs and practices- if those make you uncomfortable please feel free to skip <3

A gift for my friend @over--heaven enjoy my darling!!!

We all know Dio, our proud and very devoted brother, mashallah. 

Okay, okay, being serious. Dio definitely did read up about different cultures and religions during his time in Cairo. Catching up has never been so informational, and Dio views these reading sessions as a way to formulate a plan. 

Yes he has canonically read the Quran (in the OVA) no I’m not arguing with this leave me alone!!!

Especially since he was in Cairo, he was exposed to Muslim culture not only through his reading, but quite literally outside his doorstep. He didn’t make many appearances outside (duh, vampire) but on the occasions he did, he was taken by the customs and celebrations by some of his neighbors. 

Well, the people here certainly know how to have a nice time compared to England. 

I would say he’s participated in many events or Muslim customs, maybe not out of sheer devotion or anything, but mostly due to entertainment and intrigue. He tends to people watch and view how some of the Muslims pray or how they behave with one another. 

He is aware of what Ramadan is, and since he reads the Quran, I can imagine he’s got a pretty good grasp of Islam as well as the Arabic language in general. 

It is quite ironic that Dio of all people had a partner who was Muslim, but he honestly doesn’t mind. All humans are the same to him, so he doesn’t hold one higher than another.

So, when you begin to prepare for Ramadan, he’s understanding (somewhat, he’s still Dio and he still will be a menace as usual). He’s pretty curious how devoted and disciplined you’ll be. 

Makes an off-hand comment how he’d be willing to participate with you, just to experience it alongside you.

Might even pray beside you if he’s feeling up to it (although he gets tempted to do it more when he sees you doing it). 

His sleep and eating schedule is pretty messed up as a vampire, I assume, so I like to think he’d be doing the opposite and eating breakfast during iftar and dinner during suhoor. It’s a funny thought and whether or not you decide to follow his flipped schedule is up to you. He’s just gonna be Dio throughout. 

He’d occasionally get philosophical with you about your faith and feelings. He likes to hear your interpretations of your faith and compare it to his own/what he’s read. He’s not sure if Islam itself will help him achieve heaven, but the discussions he has with you are rather thoughtful. It’s very rare for him to take what others say to heart, but for some reason, he can’t help but be enthralled by your words (we all know the reason is because he loves you). 

He does like you feeding him dates and fruits when it is time to break your fast. Heck, he might even feed you back if he’s feeling up to it. 

Although that’s kind of what Dio does during the month. He likes to bother you or annoy you for attention, but often will return the favor by making it so you can rest easily and not bother with things like cooking or cleaning. The minions can handle those tasks, but you are needed beside him in the bed for cuddles (I mean, serving him faithfully, my bad). 

Part of his studying of the human condition just leads him to be appreciative of you and your place beside him. Dio tends to make a show of it that you should be grateful he’s spoiling you like this, but truthfully he’s got a soft spot for you that is reserved for only you. No one else gets the level of care Dio gives you. 

He’ll hold off on ‘tempting’ you much during this month. He originally was going to tease you to see if you could be tempted, but after he saw you were steadfast, he softened up and quit trying to mess with you so much. He still will, but prepare for him to be a lot gentler with you. 

Soft kisses on your forehead, him gently rubbing your hands in circles with his fingers, and lots of cuddling. Again, stuff he only does with you. 

All in all, Dio is considerably more giving, quiet, and reflective during the month of Ramadan with you. It’s a new level within your relationship that he wanted to humor you with but ultimately finds rewarding in many ways.

[justa-smalltown-gargoyle]

Hey batman/batfam people, I wanted to talk about something. I know this might not be received well, but...this is my blog. So if you disagree with me, feel free to block me! Literally that's what's great about this site. (I've been trying to do so on my end, but I thought I'd reach out a bit.....idk maybe try to form some understanding?)

I have been a batman fan since like...age 13 or something. Batman as a character means so fucking much to me, as does all his kids and massive extended family. (can't forget Alfred, Kate, Lucius, and Jeff Gordon!!) And I know that they mean a lot to you guys too.

In comic book and fandom spaces we talk a lot about misrepresentation of characters in fandom, but even in "canon" or rather published/produced content. I have beef with a lot of live action adaptions of Batman for example.

The thing with comic book characters, even more than some fandoms/pieces of media, is that there is SO MUCH content out there, that two people can say they like this one character but those two versions might be in total contradiction. But does that make one right over the other? does that make one superior?

Now, I hate Ben Affleck's Batman. And to fans of his, I'd say, you want the punisher, not Batman, because to me, that goes against who Batman is fundamentally. I read the comics, watch a lot of the animated stuff, and formed my own opinion and version of Batman. However, and this seems to be a controversial take, i really enjoy Wayne Family Adventures.

I see a lot of hate on here for WFA (and on tiktok but they're another beast), which, it's not for everyone, that's okay! Not everyone has to like what I like. But what I don't agree with, is that people who like WFA are seen as "not true batman fans", "they haven't ever read a comic". "they only like the flat fanon versions of the characters", etc.

These comments I would like to rebut- some comic readers such as myself might enjoy WFA. There might be people that have never read a comic or even watched anything batman related but like WFA. Are they not valid to enjoy that and have their own fandom for that? Are they not allowed to be fans of Batman?

I also would ask, how much of WFA did you actually read? In it's nature, it's suppose to be the bat family on their time off, or more light stories, but it actually addresses things like Jason's trauma, Duke moving in to the Manor, Damian struggling to fit in at school, things like that. Now if you read pretty far and still didn't like the portrayal of the characters, that's fine, I'm not asking you to change your opinion, however I am asking you to make space for those who do enjoy it, or that WFA is their first introduction or only experience with the Batman and co.

WFA isn't perfect, but it holds a special place in my heart, and gives me more content for Not Perfect but Trying and Cares Dad Bruce Wayne which I am grateful for. And tbh I feel like it just shows other sides to the characters we don't see that often!

And again, obvi people have their opinions, I guess I'm just asking for us to be more aware and create a space where people can feel free and excited to talk about these characters that we all love. I enjoy content and discussions I see in the tags and different blogs but then I see the hate for WFA fans and it just puts a real damper on otherwise really good content.

Anyways, thanks for reading!

[victorspindrop]

HOA Characters and Fandoms they are in

**NOTE: Second headcanon type post lets go! Love reading peoples responses (Sorry for the Alfie rap erasure you're so right baes) but anyways, thought of this while driving home from college for Easter weekend so enjoy! Also, some of these fandoms I am not even in but they make sense for the characters so**

Nina

-> Harry Potter fandom or Potterhead

-> I mean with the amount of times she mentions Harry Potter in the first episode it just would make sense that its because she's a fan of the books and movies

-> Definitely brought her entire Harry Potter book series to Anubis House with her when she first moved in (but maybe hid it at first because of Patricia)

-> Favorite character is probably Hermione Granger (she loves a strong and intelligent female main character)

-> Dressed up as a Hogwarts student for her first Halloween at Anubis (Fabian dressed as Harry for her <3)

Amber

-> Twilight. Enough said.

-> Girlie has a huge Jacob poster in her room. No like seriously, its in the show

-> I know she had a heart attack during the last movie (I did to)\

-> Obvi Team Jacob

Fabian

-> Doctor Who Whovian

-> This is where we start to get to things I am of little knowledge of

-> Space, time travel, monsters (i think?) it just sounds right up his alley

-> Has one of those TARDIS t-shirts... and a poster...and maybe a keychain... and maybe a secret plethora of Doctor Who merchandise under his bed, but keeps enough out so people know he likes it but not enough to know he is obsessed with it

Patricia

-> Like I stated in my post about the characters music taste, she had a FallOutBoy and PANIC! At the Disco phase

-> I feel like she's read FallOutBoy fanfiction here and there IDK IT MAKES SENSE

-> I feel like she probably had a Twenty One Pilots phase as well

-> All of those fandoms together, she was DEEP in alternative fangirl culture

Alfie

-> HOT TAKE: Alfie watches anime

-> I haven't watched much but I feel like he would watch like One Piece or maybe Dragon Ball Z

->Have you seen all of his costumes in the show, the boy cosplays for sure

-> Puts on cosplay either to watch his shows or just puts it on for the hell of it and then goes about his day (all the housemates have candid photos of him doing the most mundane things in the most ridiculous cosplays)

Jerome

-> This one was hard ngl

-> I feel like he would be more in like Youtuber type fandoms

-> Pewdipie.

-> Ok hear me out, JSclatt. I MEAN THINK ABOUT IT! DOESNT IT MAKE SENSE IN A WAY???

Joy

-> As I stated in my music post, she was a One Directioner

-> Was a Harry girl

-> She wrote and read fanfics on Wattpad (valid)

-> Along with Amber, she is a Twilight fan

-> Unlike Amber, she is Team Edward

-> Her and Amber have had some HEATED discussions at dinner over this topic to the point where it has been BANNED from the dinner table

Mara

-> Ok I know Mara is all books or whatever in the show BUT, I can see her being a cozy game fan

-> Stardew Valley, Animal Crossing, The Sims, honestly anything that is a cozy management type game

-> Hunger Games fan for sure.

->Is in love with Peeta

Mick

-> Fortnite.

-> Does Fortnite dance emotes when he scores a goal during soccer/football (whichever you call it)

-> This is a Mick Campbell hate page.

[quinloki]

Hahahahhaa

Brain thought of this and I wanted to share

Just picturing you’re together with Marco and Sabo for a bit, but you’ve only had short times where they’re together in any capacity

And you’re just feeling bold one day and just want them to test the limits a little, see where you can’t handle it. It’s discussed and limits/safe words are put in place

Idk kinda like a free use? Within limits obvi but that’s a concept that makes brain go brrrr

And so they go ham both taking turns and sharing both whispering dirty dirty things about you (and eachother) as they use you

I still think Sabo likes to watch so for some he has your head in his lap while Marco has his fun

My favorite thoughts about this are thinking of a spit roast where they’re both taunting you to focus on whoever is doing the taunting or a nice little one behind one in front one in each ear whispering how good you are taking them both and how tight it is with both of them

<<

I wish I had the gift of the written word to properly articulate the thoughts plaguing my mind but I DONT and im sad

Hopefully this gives you enough of a visual for my depraved Sunday thoughts

(I unintentionally drove past a church service this morning blasting lil jon’s yeah! Earlier so between that and this… hell it is)

>.>

One day a month, you'll wake up and Sabo and Marco will ask you if you're Green For the Holiday or not, and if you are then it's open season. They'll take you whenever - where ever - and however they want.

cw: bondage, toys, edging, cock warming, anal, body painting, mdni, 18+

One of them will be railing you over the breakfast bar while the other is making everyone's breakfast. Then the other gets you post breakfast while the other does the dishes.

Maybe Sabo paints on your body.

Marco reads to you while you warm his cock. (Sabo comes by and takes you from behind, hushing you to not disturb Marco's reading, finishing on your back and wandering off while Marco keeps reading like you didn't just get railed. He'll pet your hair and kiss your cheek and let you rest against him for a bit, give you reassurances between pages.)

Maybe one holiday they just fill you full of toys set on low and leave you in a shibari in the middle of the living room, both doing nothing but watching you while they read or have a movie marathon. (You might be set up on a Sybian, and Sabo edges you with it a few times before he and Marco let you cum back to back)

some holidays they'll try out new things you've mentioned (or things they've noticed you paying attention to). toys that give them knots? hell yeah. been looking at humiliation kinks? sure they can test the limits. Orgasm counters, sensory deprivation, one holiday they don't touch you at all, and don't let you touch yourself either - it's time for a picnic in the backyard, the only thing you can wear is your collar.

Another holiday they might invite someone over you've talked about being okay with including.

You're feeding me Kaz, dangerous waters >.> (I mean I'm just adding more notes to Outnumbered at this point.)

[f1-disaster-bi]

hi!!!! hope you are well!!! paddock hoe lando is my favorite au, and with the recent posts about it (which i loved!!) it got me thinking about how when lando escapes and still has the rope around his wrists, you mention that max is the only person lando trusted to do that with, would you ever write more about the aftermath of the incident/how max and landon’s relationship might have been impacted by that violation? how did it affect them? obvi i feel like it would take a long time for them to ever consider using ropes again, if ever, and even then maybe like silk instead? how did it effect the dynamic between them, having that trust they both had, violated by someone else? weird emotions from max knowing that he had tied lando up and now it’s a place of trauma? sorry for the length but i’ve been thinking about this au so much lately and max/lando is my happy place haha

Never apologise for the length!!! I am so happy to get this ask and see so much love and interest for Paddock hoe au and for Max/Lando in this cause I love their dynamic 🥹

I am so close to writing a second part to that fic. I have like two drafts of it going with @f1-birb. I just need to sit down and actually write it 👀

In that fic, when Lando is found with the ropes and the marks on his wrists and it's Max who sees him first, it definitely shifts their dynamic because Max never wants to hurt Lando and even when they engage in rough play and bandage, they have so many checks and they always discuss it beforehand.

Max is the only one Lando has ever let tie him down or gag him or blindfold him. It's something he feels safe doing with Max, and something they're both interested in. He trusts Max with him being submissive and vulnerable and knows (like with all his partners) Max would never hurt him or cross his boundaries.

And when he shows up like that, they're both shaken.

Lando doesn't really want any type of sexual touch for a while after that. He's still wrapping his head around it. He's dealing with it in therapy, and he's learning slowly to differentiate between good touches and bad touches again because the first time he tried to do something a little sexual with a partner, he froze and panicked and couldn't tell who was touching him.

Even when he gets better, he notices that Max hangs back. Their time together is more cuddling and soft making out and more frottage than sex and while Lando likes that, he's worried he's fucked up and eventually asks Max about it.

"I don't want to remind you of Him" is all Max manages to get out before Lando would be hugging him tight and planting himself in Max's lap because he knew Max was struggling with seeing Lando like that, but he hadn't realised Max was scared Lando would see him differently.

There would be a lot of talking and measuring each other. Lots of Lando promising that this hasn't changed anything about how he sees Max or feels about him because Max would never have done that to him. He knows that like he knows his own body.

It would still take a while before Max and Lando were comfortable doing anything with restraints again. Max even hesitates to pin Lando down when they eventually start having sex again but they make it fun. Lots of teasing words and soft kisses and colour checks and sweet kisses.

Max definetly gets rid of the rope he had and used before. He can't stand the sight of it after seeing Lando so distressed and hurt and he doesn't want something that's meant to be about trust tinged with bad memories so I can see him moving to something different.

The first time he breaks out the padded fluffy handcuffs, Lando laughs so hard he cries but he also smothers Max in kisses because he knows why he has those and he's reminded again of how much his boys love him and care for him.

After that, I can see them using a mix of silks and soft items and maybe padded cuffs that Lando can let himself out of if he wants. It's trail and error, and takes a long time to get back to that space but Max and Lando get there eventually with lots of talking and reassurances from both sides 🥹

[djinnandtea]

so I got some interest on this post where I tossed out that I wanted to talk more about monster romance and race and gender. it's been really nice to see a few folks are also wanting to hear/talk about it! I'm not prepared to say anything at length [eta: this turned out to be kind of a lie] with any certainty or research to back me up, but I thought I could post a rough outline of sorts of what I'd want to research and explore further, just as a starting point for myself but also a jumping off point if anyone else has any thoughts or resources.

I guess I'll start with gender first. I'm new to the romance genre generally, but I don't think it's a surprise that the genre has always been dominated by discourse around who reads romance and the kind of gender dynamics presented in a lot of conventional romance books (which are generally heterosexual/heteronormative in a lot of problematic ways). I'm thinking of the harlequin romances my mom and grandma used to read, but also of the discussions around colleen hoover's work and then the dark romance sub-genre too.

this means that there's the obvi discussion to be had about content vs. context. who is writing the romance, what informs their writing, what messaging comes through via choices made by the author, as well as by the context the author is writing in. I'm sure if you've been reading romance--even fanfic--for a while, you're well versed in some of these conversations, even if just in a casual way.

after considering romance on a macro level, I think you'd then have to look at some of those more micro sub-genres. where are gender norms accentuated and exaggerated, and to what end? why is dark romance a thing, why do (usually) straight white women want to fantasize about being in that kind of relationship? what's the purpose being met? (this is all asked non-judgmentally, btw, as I also enjoy dark romance.)

and maybe there are folks who would dislike my comparing of monster romance to dark romance, but I do think the two are related, especially based on a lot of posts I've seen since joining this corner of tumblr. I think there's a lot of interest in exploring ideas around control and dominance that dark romance and monster romance provide contained space for. if you watched my YouTube video, I touch on this a little bit more at the end as well.

I'm sure I'm missing a lot re: gender (like all the stories being told about lgbtq+ MCs), but this is just some initial thoughts at the fore of my brain.

as for race...........well. lol.

there's the very surface level question around what percentage of monster romance FMCs are white. I genuinely don't have this answer, and I know there are a lot of nonwhite FMCs too! but I'd be really curious to know the actual numbers here. why? well, bc diversity matters. but also because of the decades long narratives around white women as victims of men of color, and how that narrative has been used to weaponize whiteness and demonize blackness specifically, and non-whiteness more generally.

I am def not saying that all monster MMCs = depictions of non-whiteness, I'm just thinking about the connections between equating non-white people/bodies with monstrosity. I'm thinking of the historical framing of non-white people and communities as sub-human, as savages, as beastly. inhumane. monsters have kinda always been a metaphor for the other, including the non-white other, and I think it'd be naive of us to assume that vestiges of that brand of racism (which is still alive and well) never inform the ways creators engage with monster romance and monsterfucking, consciously AND unconsciously.

I'm also thinking about orientalism. I'm thinking of the exotification and classification of the east. the way westerners invaded the eastern world and began treating the people there like specimens. I'm thinking about how othering and abjecting and exotifying a culture or community or person can create a power-informed version of sexualizing that culture or community or person. like, othering/abjecting/exotifying can lead to creating a perverted sort of desiring. I have a special interest here because I'm arab, so this stuff feels particularly personal, but yeah. it makes my wheels turn.

there's also a dehumanizing element of turning an othered body into a piece of sexual meat. I'm thinking about the way monsters in these books are always excessive, the way their penises are always massive. we can't pretend that doesn't seem a little familiar to the degrading ways white people have also discussed black bodies, too. like. I'm not saying wanting our monsters to have big dicks is racist, I'm just saying there are some aspects of the genre that I think deserve to be ~unpacked~ and considered in a wider context that takes this kind of stuff into account. not as a confirmed given, but as an avenue worth approaching with curiosity, if only to point out the ways in which it's NOT a product of racism/anti-blackness.

obvi this post is not backed up at present with a single source because I'm just thinking out loud based on stuff I've read previously over the years that I definitely would need to revisit, so I totally get if you read this and think I'm being ridiculous. but if you saw my first post and were kinda wondering what I had in mind when making it, this is it.

[queermania]

I'm a different anon but now I'm curious what you would have preferred they do in Dabb era with Dean's anger

hmm i think the single biggest change they could make is to not have soulless!jack kill mary and instead make dean pointing the gun at jack be the actual breaking point. so the vague shape of the last few seasons would look like this:

everything is the same up until right before jack burns off his soul

jack burns off only some of his soul, enough to be concerning, but not enough to actually make him soulless/lose control (the situation with his soul and what to do about it will be a big pressing concern going forward, just another worry added to the pile)

mary dies while on a hunt in a way that is seemingly nobody's fault but is still obviously a huge emotional blow (for the record i would not kill mary off in an ideal scenario but i know that they had to kill her off for understandable sam smith reasons so that's why i'm leaving it in here)

dean and cas get in a fight that is explicitly a culmination of both of their communication issues and has nothing to do with jack and/or mary

the divorce arc still happens (but this time jack is like a confused kid whose parents are getting divorced and they both have to assure him they still love him and its not his fault etc etc)

the makeup still happens but it includes an actual discussion of their actual issues and in the process cas confesses, summoning the empty. ideally, it would be because dean reciprocates but i'm trying to be plausible here so the general vibe would still be the same (and it would have nothing to do with billie because if i'm rewriting this shit, billie is not gonna be a villain! we can find another way to work around lisa's pregnancy!)

after the confession, chuck tries to manipulate dean into thinking that jack is dangerous and that he's the reason that cas is dead again. that everything is jack's fault. that he's burned off all of his soul. that the only way they can all get off this hamster wheel is for jack to die.

dean points the gun at jack. he doesn't want to kill jack but he doesn't want to do this anymore. he just wants it all to be over and if god says this is the way to do it, who is he to argue (he's dean winchester! but he's so broken down at this point)

jack still gets on his knees because he's nothing if not a winchester willing to sacrifice himself.

dean is horrified when he sees jack on his knees in front of him, waiting to be executed, and turns the gun on chuck instead

this leads to the reveal that chuck is the Big Bad and that he sucks. chuck is the reason mary died. he added one extra unaccounted-for vampire or whatever at the last minute and that's why mary died. amara giveth and chuck taketh. he just wanted to see what would happen.

salmondean and jack decide they have to kill god, obvi. instead of spending a season just kind of vaguely stressing over THE THREAT OF GOD DESTROYING ALL OF CREATION while not really doing much about it, they spend one or two episodes figuring out a plan.

15x20 is them defeating chuck. maybe they release all of chuck's power into the universe or maybe amara absorbs him and then her and billie live happily ever after. i don't care. but jack doesn't become god. the series ends with sam saying something about how now that chuck is gone they really can do whatever they want, and dean and jack share a look that is very much What We Want To Do Is Get Cas Back And We're Going To Start Working On That Right Now.

something like that? i know this isn't perfect but it it's a general idea of a narrative trajectory that i would find a lot more satisfying while still being something that they would've actually been allowed to do

[nalyra-dreaming]

Logging off Twitter again. Maybe I should just delete the app. No really there has been discours again where people are answering what their honest opinions on loustat was a couple days ago, and seem to keep going. And while many love loustat there is of course a few that has a problem them and also Lestat. Which is fine it’s not for everyone, but I do am starting to get annoyed by ALL the discourse here, there is just never any room to fully breath.

Not saying that all is negative obvi, but going back to the discussion of loustat/Lestat. My biggest annoyance and I might sound a bit petty are those tagt aren’t aggressive in their dislike but doesn’t seem to understand how important these two things are to the (especially old) fandom. I may personally have a bit of complicated (yet loving) feelings about lousta and Lestat, at the moment, since I am a relatively new fan and has only read “Interview” (thoug I am excited for Lestats redemption). I still understand that Lestat is the deeply complicated not easy main character of the story and that loustat is pretty much the heart of the VC. So I genuinely feel a bit confused when a lot of new fans is just like “they should stay separate” or “Lestat is irrelevant”, like obviously there isn’t any malice here and I understand if you don’t vibe but really? I am honestly a little confused by this….

This makes me understand why many old fans can feel very frustrated. Anne Rice clearly isn’t for everyone, and probably works best in a small community. I mean this LEVEL of discourse that has been going on can’t be healthy right? Art can be discussed, but it‘s also made to be enjoyed.

(I mostly stay off of Twitter these days, I find it a snake pit tbh)

I can understand the new fans that have only seen the show, because some of the articles and press also called Loustat "doomed" etc. And the podcast lady was very... errr... direct in regards to that and Armand, too, for example.

But... that just won't stay that way *laughs*

The first half of IWTV was just that, the first half. The easy half, imho.

If you read the book you know what's coming. I think the first season will likely be remembered as the most harmless. The one to ... separate a few things, maybe, too. The Vampire Chronicles truly are not for everyone.

When "we" (as in old book fans) speak about Armand for example, and Loumand and then the blender, or sexual violence... we are not kidding. Or trying to pitch "ships" against each other. It's much, much, MUCH more complicated than that :)))

The current discourse/drama level will likely be "cute" when we get to the dramatic shift in Paris season 2. However they'll spin it, fans will feel betrayed by what they thought was a cute, loving relationship. And of course Daniel. And of course Lestat will HAVE to show up somehow for season 3. And, then, if they show Claudia's death as Armand tells it in his book.... oy. Incoming *laughs*

Lestat is the anti hero of the chronicles, but he is not even the worst out there. None of them are the nice guys.

Some of the new show-only fans will be ill-equipped for that simple truth I think.

[compacflt]

Dude you should be so so so so so proud, literally one of the best pieces I've ever read. It's the angst and complex characterization of Baldwin's Giovanni's Room meets the research behind The Alienist (the book, obvi- haven't actually seen the show yet). I adore how you maintained the characters' personal values even though I don't like them most of the time, and I now know way too much about the military in general because I would wikipedia something every third sentence. (Also thanks for that because coincidentally I'm working on a research project on how low-level fighter jet training affects marine animal behaviour, and I actually passed my first oral with flying colours because of the random knowledge I have acquired while reading/because of your fic.) That being said, I desperately want a physical copy on my bookshelf- would you ever feel comfortable distributing one or letting us go get it printed professionally? If not, I totally understand and am more than happy with what we have access to now! Seriously, thank you- it's incredible.

thank you thank you thank you for the ask!! just gonna answer by point

1. i am very proud!!! just extremely editorbrained ie have been trying to fix all the flaws for the last two months straight, and now all i see are problems & flaws that i couldn’t fix…. you guys should see my hard copy of this fic every single page is basically black with pencil. just ripped it to shreds. it’s just a writer thing i think, i am my own worst critic :(

2. if by personal values you mean political opinions … I wish it were like socially acceptable to post my extremely in-depth headcanons about random shit like this because i am so deep in it that i literally wrote out ice and mav’s voting records since 1980. Tldr: conservaDems. registered R but consistently vote D. mav would vote libertarian if his husband weren’t standing over him threatening divorce. after 1/6/21 change their registration to D & are basically just neolib shills. only reason they don’t vote obama in 2008 is that mccain was a navy vet.

3. thank you for the compliment but i am literally BEGGING you guys not to take anything i say/claim in this fic about the military to be true. there are certainly elements of the truth but many of the details i literally just made up. or altered to make plot sense (see IRST discussion ch 9, IRST was SUGGESTED by Boeing in 2007/8, not implemented until 2010ish). so much of the plot simply would not happen in real life. i can make a whole post about this sometime if people are interested cause there is actually so much I could say about real life accuracy in this fic/implications of real life shit…

4. no way???? that research project sounds so interesting??? congrats on passing ur oral!! idk what that means but congrats!!!! coincidentally i am also working on a research project—it’s why i have to stop working on this fic at some point. my senior research thesis is a novel about USAF CSAR chopper pilots so ive been doing so much research over the last 5 months… but about the USAF not the USN. my navy research HAS helped though. so maybe it’s a mutually reciprocal relationship :) i would love to hear more about ur project!!!

[officialromaniantranslatiuni]

What you wrote in that post about the course for teachers meant to prevent antisemitism in schools is proof that it is much needed and something like that should have been implemented yesterday. You could have done some research about the massive misinformation campaign started by the both sides of the I/P conflict (including allies, especially) since 7 October and the blatant antisemitism that is corroding the pro Palestine side, because many of their supporters have decided to show their solidarity through antisemitic biases and actions that most of them don't even understand are deeply problematic and are in no way helping Palestine, but your first reaction was to assume the Jews Israel is controlling the narrative and weaponizing antisemitism - at a time when antisemitism is skyrocketing everywhere around the world.

Also, there's a reason why the Jewish community of Timișoara is so small, isn't it? Actually, there's a reason why the Jewish community in Romania is so small now compared to how it used to be before WW2, isn't it? You're a teacher and you oftenly complain about how closed minded and ignorant your fellow teachers and your students' parents are, you should have known better than this.

Ok, anon who invented mineral water and is extra educated. I have no idea if you have no reading comprehension or if you were just looking for an excuse to insult me and whine.

But I shall approach you like one of my students:

In what context would the Palestine vs Israel conflict be approached by History teachers?

There is no present day history being taught as far as I know. I am not using contemporary because it leads up to the 21st century but not in detail and it only mentions a couple of events.

So the context would be... non existent.

I do not follow the news and the few I have been following are plainly stating facts. X is doing atrocities to Z. You can place either team. I do not deny your claim that some outlets are probably using discriminatory tactics just for kicks.

The thing is that Romanian pupils are not watching news on foreign politics. If anything, they would care about the war a few km away from us.

Let's address antisemitism and when it's discussed during History lessons:

- WW2 (I am no longer aware when exactly it's taught but I learnt about it in years 7, 8, 11 and 12)

- The new school subject added this year for 11th graders: The History of the Jewish People/Holocaust (it's a thing since like uwu yesterday uwu and the information is the same as in history lessons except with the emphasis on the Jewish community obvi)

- maybe other subject which tackle communities, tolerance and maybe even Religion (I remember learning a lot in primary school about their history)

So, please enlighten me why should this contemporary political/military issue be suddenly discussed in class?

Can we trace a timeline that would lead to understanding the reasons behind this war? Yes.

Does a teacher going to class and shouting "hey, kids, stop watching dances on tiktok and let's discuss the news which are very antisemitic" sound like a plausible thing? Definitely, but not really in a country that already supports Israel in this war and which is already the reason why Israel has a significant community number of citizens from here. Because things have been going on before and after WW2, but you call me ignorant and compare my intelligence to the one of a 6 year old, darling.

So to sum up... If you want to call out antisemitism in mass media, you approach zealots, uneducated adults and the media outlets themselves, not freaking children who don't even know where fucking Palestine and Israel are and don't know shit about politics to begin with!