#GOOD QUESTION BUDDY :0

[neonnerd17]

Wooo go girl 500th post uuuuuhhhh socks are yucky and the seam was made by Satan but cool socks are funky fresh but a trap because they usually have all the little stringies inside and I hate those

[schemelin]

every now and then i experience brief moments of self-awareness telling me to make major changes to the fusionsprunt story

[highvern]

endpoint

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, angst, FWB to idiots to lovers

warnings:  cumshot/facial, unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, oral sex (m & f receiving), rough sex, breath play (choking), mentions of exhibitionism, face fucking, virgin wonwoo mentions, idiots in love, edging (emotionally), impact play, sir kink (brief), alcohol consumption

Length: ~19.5k

Note: thank you to @gyuswhore my love, my life, for suffering through this with me. this fic is set in the same universe as her gyu fic for this collab so check it out (threat). also thank u @haologram and everyone else who beta'd this for me bc im sensitive. follow @camandemstudios for more fics!!! i will come back later and tag the people who commented on the teaser but rn im getting day drunk hehehe

summary: Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.

collab m.list || m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

“What’s the difference between a proton and an electron again?”

“Shoot me in the fucking head,” Wonwoo whispers harshly.

He’s a seat over, a laptop covered in gaming stickers and a coffee cup containing a lethal amount of caffeine occupying the space atop the narrow lecture desk. It’s a feign to productivity. His screen is split between thesis notes and a countdown to a new video game release that unfortunately hits 0 in the middle of lecture. 

Dr. Wagner’s intro to chemistry  course isn’t difficult – freshman aside – which is why you and Wonwoo agreed to be her teaching assistants. Easy money and a way to get in her good graces come grad school application season. You’ve TA’ed the same course since sophomore year for different professors but it’s all the same; the metaphorical killing field before hopeful freshmen become cannon fodder in the real trial of will: O Chem. 

“Me first,” you whisper back. 

Wonwoo slumps in his chair, opening the shared drive keeping track of problem areas to touch on in lab hours, and typing “check for basic brain activity” under the class To-Do list. 

Fair enough. If they can’t understand the basics this far into the semester then you two are in for a world of hurt for the next practical. You're in for a world of hurt come next study hall when half of them will complain about failing their quiz this morning despite having the answers spoon fed straight from the notes.

[09:48] You:  be nice

[09:48] wonwoo: if they were smarter, id be nicer

[09:48] You: maybe they’re scared stupid

It wouldn’t be too far off. One time a freshman burst into tears while asking Wonwoo to check their practice work during lab hours. Wonwoo swears he didn’t say anything and the kid looked on the verge of a mental breakdown if the wind blew the wrong way.

[09:48] wonwoo: from what?

[09:48] You: the fact ur trying to kill them with your mind

[09:49 ]wonwoo : i wouldn’t kill them

[09:49] wonwoo: just maim or seriously injure so they dont come to class and say dumb shit

Dr. Wagner fields more questions in front of the powerpoint. More ‘dumb shit’ Wonwoo rolls his eyes at with such obvious disgust even you feel chastised. Luckily, no one can see his face from the front row besides you.

[09:49] You: you wonder why they like me more

[09:50] wonwoo: i know why they like you more

[09:50] You: oh?

Stifling an eye roll of your own you throw a glance his way as the next message comes through,

[09:50] wonwoo: nice ass

“Alright, Y/N and Wonwoo will be passing out the study guide for the next exam. We still have a few weeks so don’t worry about the back half but try and review the modules we’ve done so far and bring questions for them during study hours,” Dr. Wagner prattles off.

The gigantic stack of printouts is split in half for you and Wonwoo to disperse around the massive lecture hall. Over one hundred students sit in this lecture; the unfortunate ones who were forced to take a 9 AM course three days a week. Half look like their brain is melting out of their ears, other’s clearly haven’t paid attention at all, and a few are sound asleep. It’s Friday after all. They probably didn’t get back from their Thirsty Thursday night out until a few hours ago.

You wouldn’t even be here if Wonwoo wasn’t a built in insurance policy.

Dr. Wagner collects her things and heads towards the front exit with a cheery, “Have a good weekend!”

“There's a party at Sigma tonight,” Wonwoo shares as you both pack your own bags. The next class is already shuffling through the doors to claim their seats.

“I have work until eleven.”

“After?”

Shouldering your bag, you head towards the door where the next class is already trickling in to find their seats. “Don’t you have a tournament tomorrow?”

“I only have to be at the party for like an hour. I can come and walk you home.”

“Fine,” you nod. “But bring your laptop. I think Chan fucked up the last set of results and we need to fix them.”

It’s not unusual for Wonwoo to spend his Friday nights with you; or another night for that matter. He lives in a dingy frat house on the edge of campus with twenty other guys. It’s an act of mercy. A long standing tradition from the week before freshman year when you two were the only chemistry majors in your orientation group and that turned into a clumsy hook up at an upperclassman’s party. You didn’t know he’d be a virgin and he didn’t know your high school boyfriend dumped you less than twenty four hours before you left for college (but not before you lost your own virginity in the backseat of his car). 

It’d been…not good. 

Wonwoo was awkward and you were unsure. But he was sweet under the bravado; walked you home that night, pretended he wasn’t interested in the fact your roommate never moved in, leaving the suite empty. But he wasn’t a good enough actor to feign nonchalance when you invited him upstairs. Turns out sex was a lot better the second time around, in a bed that didn’t belong to an unknown upperclassman who could’ve burst in any minute. 

Wonwoo isn’t your boyfriend. You’re too busy piecing together the ten year plan concocted since junior year of highschool to even think about such frilly ideas. There’s barely enough time as it is; you’ve got work, a full class schedule, TAing, and all the random clubs you’ve wiggled your way into to pad your resume. 

And he’s busy too. Navigating a sports scholarship and one of the hardest majors left barely enough time for him to wipe his own ass, let alone date. Then came research hours and TAing and the fact volleyball, apparently, wasn’t just a one semester sport, there were scrimmages, workouts, and tournaments out of season. 

It’s been over three years of your arrangement which works best because you don’t have to spend precious brain power deciphering if some random guy you went out with once is playing hard to get or just straight up not interested. You have Wonwoo. He’s simple. 

So what you have now, friends. Who hook up. And work together. Who also happens to be applying for the same PhD program for next year. Not together but at the same time.

The application website stares back from your laptop with horror. 

It’s still too early to submit any materials but it’s been highlighted in bold red in your calendar since two years ago. Everything is ready to go the second it opens—except Dr. Wagner’s recommendation. It’s the sole reason you (and Wonwoo) agreed to be her TAs this semester; she’s one of the program’s most notorious alum, her words as good as gold in securing a spot. 

Someone hacks a cough and shatters the eerie silence of the library. The backtrack of sparse typing and the custodian shuffling around to have been the only company throughout your shift. No one would choose to rot at any of the weathered study tables late on a Friday night so early in the semester. 

With the abundance of free time, you fixed Chan’s mistakes in his set of trials easily, no thanks to Wonwoo who still hasn’t shown up. It’s good though. Your stoichiometry homework is submitted three days before the deadline and the mountain of emails clogging your inbox from hopeless undergrads is in the single digits. Half the labs from last week are graded for Dr. Wagner’s approval, the other half can wait until Sunday night. A long weekend of sleep awaits once the clock hits eleven and you’re free to run home.

Wonwoo stumbless in five minutes before the clock runs out. His duffle for tomorrow is slung over his shoulder and he’s already dressed for bed, rumpled sweats and a hat he definitely wore to the party with high hopes to cut out early. 

“You’re late,” you acknowledge, cramming your belongings back into your bag. He’s close enough to get a whiff of. “And you’re drunk.”

“I am not drunk,” he argues.

The lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips says otherwise but it isn’t an argument worth having. All you want to do is get home and pass out.

He shoulders you bag, presenting his hand when you insist you can carry it on your own. The dry warm of his palm against your cold is pleasant enough you don’t argue as you tug him towards the automatic doors.

“Have a goodnight, Mr. Lee,” you call towards the security desk.

The guard, old enough to be your grandfather, calls back, “You too, sweetheart.”

Out in the balmy night, you tug Wonwoo down the street in the direction of your apartment. Two blocks and then a right turn leaving you outside the dowdy building with hallways that constantly reek of weed and new paint smell.

A pack of freshmen girls heading somewhere, marked by their matching uniform of jeans and black tops of various coverage, crowd the sidewalk straight ahead. Someone is crying, one is on the phone, and a few others stand dumbly waiting for their next movie like zombies — all incredibly wasted. You barrel through them without acknowledgement. A few drunken bitter ‘bitch’s hit your back but you ignore them to focus on the man struggling to push through the crowd without accidentally shoulder checking any of them.

On the other side, you ask, “Have fun at the party?”

“Some pledge puked on Jihoon’s stuff,” he huffs, nose scrunching.

“May he rest in peace.”

Wonwoo sways from side to side from the weight of your bag but also whatever radioactive mix was served at the party. The stairs provide an extra challenge since the elevator has been broken for weeks but thankfully it’s a short trip to the second floor.

He presents your belongings with routine ease once the front door of your apartment looms ahead. Music from the floor above shakes the walls; hopefully you can make up for the lack of sleep tomorrow morning.

There isn’t much space inside the four walls you call home – the ‘kitchen’ which is a single counter with a stove and fridge you’re barely around to use, fifteen feet away your bed in the corner, bordered by your desk at the foot cramped with a spray of errant papers and books you’ve been too busy to deal with. The monitor doubles as a TV and finally a tiny loveseat with a broken leg replaced by a stack of hard covers completes the room.

You beeline for the bathroom to wash away the filth of a long day and Wonwoo, keeping on trend, follows into the cramped space.

“Can I help you?” you ask, shirt tossed into the bin in the corner.

Wonwoo’s shirt goes the same and then his pants after a brief struggle. “You know I sleep better when I shower.” 

True.

“And I doubt you're gonna let me in your bed if I’m dirty.”

Even truer.

The water is still cold when you step in but the man glued to your back fights the worst of the chill away. Goosebumps prickle along your skin but have nothing to do with the vent that points directly into the stall (whoever designed the apartments must have had a sick sense of humor) and everything to do with Wonwoo’s mouth tracing the curve of your shoulder.

Forcing the heat blooming between your legs down to a simmer, you focus on washing up and getting into bed before it rolls into a boil and you do something stupid that’ll only leave you and Wonwoo struggling for balance. 

Shower sex is a dangerous sport. Shower sex with Wonwoo has left you both with bruises. Drunken shower sex with Wonwoo will get you both killed.

Soft hums tickle your neck as you clean up. There isn’t enough room for two people to stand in the spray at once so you take turns hogging the steamy water and braving the frigid cold until the last bits of soap swirl the drain.

Even when drying off you stay in each other’s orbit until the need for clothes and sleep drive you both out of the bathroom and back into the equally cramped space of your room.

It’s not until you’re laying on the mattress, darkness snug on all sides, that you feel Wonwoo roll atop you with purpose.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Wonwoo hums into your stomach, fingers crawling up your bare legs.

“That,” you inhale at the nip of his teeth on the curve of your thigh, “doesn’t feel like nothing to me.”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer but gives you plenty of time to brush him off while bruising your skin. You don’t. Instead you sink deeper into the blankets and let him push your shirt up until you're bare once more.

The fuzziness of alcohol lingers in his veins – just enough that he smiles into the strip of skin above your panties as you sigh and arch under the delicious weight of wandering hands and mouth at your nipple.

“Wonwoo,” you sigh and he’s up and kissing you with eager clumsiness.

A familiar prod at your core through his boxers crashes bubbles through your veins. You felt it in the bathroom but now is when you finally get to indulge with subtle grinds Wonwoo meets in his own search for friction. 

“Don’t you need to be up—ugh—early tomorrow?”

He kisses you slowly, tongue dragging along your bottom lip until your mouth opens under his. It burns you from the inside out. Mindlessly you shift your legs to frame his hips better but Wonwoo kisses deeper and all you can think about is giving in to whatever scheme he’s working up to have you both naked and panting.

He leans back a fraction to speak, giving in when you chase his lips before ducking to nip at your ear and mumbling a response. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I will worry about it when you snooze twenty alarms and your team hunts me down because I smothered their star player with a pillow,” you snort but heat under a squeeze of his fingers at your sides.

“Sleep when I’m done with this.”

“And what is ‘this’ exactly?”

A harsh suck at your jaw has your stomach tight. heavy and thick until need drips down your spine to coil in your gut and the emptiness between your thighs becomes unignorable. He hides pleased groans in the curve of your neck until you force a hand under the band of his underwear. Eyes opening, you watch the muscles of his back tense and flex as he rocks against you, fucking your fist greedily.

It doesn’t last long. Wonwoo gets antsy under the taunting pressure of your thumb and descends back down your body with burning lips. “Take your shirt off.”

“It’s cold,” you complain but do as he asks. 

He traces your figure clad in nothing but your glasses and a soiled pair of panties; damp at the crotch from his attention and Wonwoo slips a finger under the hem to tease you that inch closure to depravity.

Wonwoo laves against the hickey on the inside of your thigh from a week ago, it’s yellowed and perfectly shaped like his mouth. It’s tender under his attention, even the gentle tracing on his nose forcing you to wince in discomfort. 

He coos, kissing it before skating back to the hem of your panties, lips vibrating against your skin. “Sorry I didn’t come earlier.”

Why he brings it up now is a mystery. Or the fact he brings it up at all. Life happens. You’ve blown him off more than once for a late night in the library; no hard feelings.

“It’s fine,” you sigh as he tugs the last scrap of fabric off your body and pushes your knees up to display you like a meal.

Spreading you apart, he lands a wet kiss at your entrance before teasing with the heat of his tongue. 

In a beg for sanity you twist a tight grip in his hair; a tangled mess from his drunk endeavors. Wonwoo pushes harder, drowns in your taste with enthusiasm as you moan and sigh. 

“F-fuck.”

He won’t ask if it’s good. He knows it is. Nearly four years of hook ups attunes him to your pleasure, a well rehearsed routine that has you both ache in the best way. 

You lose yourself in shaking breaths, feet planted to drive up into his mouth for more. He sucks your clit and nearly gets his head crushed by your thighs. It doesn’t take much and he knows it. 

You chant ‘gonna cum’ in choked groans that almost die at the edge of your teeth but Wonwoo hears and takes it as permission to pull out the stops, hand at your thing with a harsh grip and fingers sinking home.

He’s memorized all the signs of your want; the wrecked echo of your throat and the sounds he pulls from you a clear tell. He flattens his tongue, holding steady as grind straight into mindless bliss. Spit pools and drips and slips down onto the sheets. Wonwoo hums praise, unintelligible but you vaguely know it’s something that’d make you blush you could hear it over the pounding in your ears.

Back arching, your vision flares white at the edges and when Wonwoo realizes what's happening he makes it last until your fist ball up and you’re floating.

Wonwoo backs down as you twitch through the tail end, sloppy kisses to your clit that could knock into another fit if he isn’t careful. But even as you tremble the only thing you want is the weight of his cock in your mouth, or inside you. You aren’t picky as long as you get to feel him cum too.

You finally manage to pry Wonwoo from between your legs with an ankle to his ribs. You’re not done with him despite the fatigue hanging around your shoulders like dead weight. He angles over top of you for a kiss that tastes too much like pussy for your liking but it’s hot knowing he’s covered in you so you push until his shoulders meet the sheets and you can claim his lap.

His dick strains through his underwear, preening when you rock back into the heat. His nostrils flare when you grab for it, stiff enough to sink onto easily. 

“Oh god,” he groans, head digging back into the pillows to watch you like a goddess.

His fingers web across the tops of your thighs, a harsh grip keeping you flat as he grinds up into the wet heat of your pussy. You whimper and sigh for him; all the sounds he loves to hear. You squeeze your chest, taut nipples framed between the slants of your fingers to entice him until he reaches around and knocks you forward for the sole purpose of taking one in his mouth.

Your eyes roll back, jaw locked open, drowning in the stretch and the bite of his mouth and the hands squeezing your ass so hard it hurts. Wonwoo groans, throaty and desperate. “Gonna cum. Wanna cum in you. Holy shit.”

He gets you on your back. Too absorbed in his own end, he’s dead weight with his tongue between your lips and harsh thrusts that take him right to the edge. It gives that grit against your clit that means you’ll come too, soaked in cum and spit and sweat.

You wish he’d flip you on your front and fuck you with a hand between you shoulder blades and the other tangled in your hair. That’s the kind of fuck that’d leave you satisfied the entire weekend he’s busy but he’s running out of steam just doing this, picking up speed in his thrust, the clap of bodies filling the room.

Chanting his name like a broken record, ‘Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo’ breathy but loud enough your neighbors will leave another passive aggressive note on your door come morning, all you can think about is his cum. On you, in you. A sick part wants him to pull out and cum on your face – he hasn’t, not in a long time because priorities and responsibilities and you're usually lucky to have even five minutes alone before someone needs either of you. But you want it. God do you want it.

“Cum on my face,” you whimper. There’s drool on your lips and sweat in your hairline. Even if he doesn't, you'll need another shower anyway.

A strangled noise escapes from between his teeth at your neck. Then he’s driving forward so hard you burn; painfully so, mouth locked in a silent choke. Your orgasm rips through your insides, jagged at the edges where Wonwoo fucks himself into your guts. 

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, pulling away and replacing the grip of your pussy with a tight fist as he straddles your chest. 

The taste of cock floods your tongue, heady and intoxicating. You get one, two drags against the stiff head and then he’s cumming, dripping his spend over your lips, then your cheek, then your glasses because he’s a sick freak. Even in the dim light from the window he twitches at the sight. You open your mouth and replace his hold, moaning as more comes to the surface. You swallow down as far as he’ll go which isn’t much in this position but it’s the thought that counts.

Wonwoo grinds to halt with an occasional kick of his hips that leaves you choking – rigid limbs locking in place until he melts with sticky satisfaction. 

He’s up and off, your glasses in hand for a thorough cleaning, not even bothering to flick on any of the lights but you hear the sink running in the bathroom before he comes padding back.

“God,” you whimper in disgust. “That’s so gross.”

“You’re the one who asked for it,” Wonwoo snorts, soft passes of a damp cloth on your skin focused on getting you clean enough to sleep.

“Because it’s hot but you aim for shit.”

Wonwoo tosses the rag somewhere, flopping down and pulling you close as possible with a kiss on your forehead. “Next time I’ll aim for your hair.”

“Bitch.”

The sound of music from upstairs pulses through your head as you drift off, Wonwoo asleep on your chest, fingers laced together on the sheets beside your indecipherably intertwined bodies.

Your week is divided into a simple pattern. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays you wake bright and early to attend Dr. Wagner’s chem lecture and then stay on campus attending every other class you could find to fill the gap between your evening shift at the library. Tuesdays and Thursdays are void of responsibility until your afternoon lab with the freshman near tears while learning basic titration for four hours, followed by office hours where said freshman finally come to actually cry about their grades. Those are the nights you, Chan, Wonwoo and a handful of other lab techs work on research that carries the same threat of waterworks. 

It’s there Dr. Wagner pulls you and Wonwoo aside.

“I know you both are applying to Dr. Collins lab for your PhD studies,” she starts. 

Her office reflects the same disarray as her personality; warm and lived in. Papers and exams are organized in chaos, thick stacks lining her desk waiting for you and Wonwoo to enter them into the online grade book. Books, some leather, some paperback, some the glossy cover of a textbook with cracked spines and yellowing pages are crammed into the bookshelves lining the walls until they threaten to collapse from the weight. It smells like coffee, plants, and the candle she always has burning. It’s a cozy hovel overlooking the rear courtyard of the science building that resembles the sterility of a hospital. 

Wonwoo occupies the other barrel chair with worn upholstery. You’ve barely seen him in the past three weeks, too busy with volunteering and working and classes while his own responsibilities keep him so exhausted it’s truly a miracle he’s even here. Dark stains ring his eyes beneath his glasses and he looks paler than usual. You’ll ask about it tonight when he comes over to work on your most recent stoichiometry project (which will be forgotten in favor of passing out during a movie while you play with his hair if history is anything to go by).

“I don’t think I’ve ever met two students who belong more in his lab,” she continues.

You try not to preen, but academic validation is a hell of a drug to caffeine addicted undergrads. Wonwoo perks up too. Three and a half years of barely being people for this moment and it’s finally in reach.

“However,” Dr. Wagner clasps her hands atop the dark wooden desk. “I’m writing only one recommendation this semester. It might seem unfair but I want to commit to the student that deserves it the most since my schedule doesn’t allow me much free time.”

It’s like being underwater. You hear her words but nothing registers, blinking rapidly in case this is a hallucination from falling asleep in the lab again.

“I know it might not be the news you hoped for but I know senior year is a lot, especially for students as involved as you all, and I thought this could alleviate some of the stress. You two are the only students I’m considering. So please, keep up the incredible work and we can talk again at the end of the semester when I have a more holistic evaluation of your progress.”

She stands to leave, snagging her purse and blowing out the candle with finality before abandoning the shit storm in your lap for whatever else she has to do on a Thursday night. Probably retell the events of the last five minutes to other professors in the department, laughing at the way you’ve turned purple from holding your breath.

“Have a good night you two! See you tomorrow!”

The office, once warm, feels hollow. You feel hollow. 

“What the fuck?” Wonwoo hasn’t moved either, glued to his seat as he stares at Dr. Wagner’s now vacant chair with his mouth wide in shock.

“Did that just happen?” you scoff in disbelief. “Is she serious?”

Wonwoo collapses over his knees with his hands scrubbing at his face like he also might be hallucinating. “I needed that recommendation.”

“Well, so do I,” you argue.

“I know. This is bullshit.”

“Did Changkyun say anything like this happened last year when she wrote one for him?”

“No, all three people who asked her got one.”

“Oh, so it’s just us she hates. Great!” you throw your hands up, sinking deeper in the chair. Maybe it’ll swallow you whole and the entire ordeal will cease to exist.

“She’s probably just trying to get in our heads so we don’t slack off this semester.”

“Have we ever slacked off any semester? I’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. You’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. We’re those people.”

Since starting college, since that one night during orientation where you and Wonwoo became a ‘we’. Not in the relationship sense, but in the way two lines merge. Same path, same goals, same classes, same PhD program prospects. There was plenty you two did separately but more you did together. Neither competing, but working together. 

But now that’s over.

Because only one of you can get into Dr. Collins lab, only one of you can get the recommendation, and only one of you can have what you both worked tirelessly for over the past three years.

“Listen—” you stand up and scrub at your own face. “It’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.”

“We? Only one of us can get her recommendation. What’s there to figure out?”

Your face goes hot. He’s right. “Well, I need that recommendation.”

“So do I,” Wonwoo argues, eyes cold.

“Fine.”

That recommendation is mine.

“Fine!”

We’ll see about that.

Wonwoo stays in her office, flinching as you slam the door and flee.

The issue with fighting with Wonwoo is that as mad as both of you are, there are a million responsibilities you share that require close proximity.

Presently, it’s grading the last batch of exams. Seventy eight packets. And because Dr. Wagner doesn’t believe in convenience, it all has to be graded by the hand of two TAs running on nothing but caffeine and spite.

Which means it’s past midnight and the couch has a permanent impression of Wonwoo’s ass while you both silently fume and scratch through wrong answers with a heavy hand in red ink.

The weather reflects the atmosphere; pouring rain and thunder loud enough to shake the windows. The power has flickered in and out since the rain started but you're both too stubborn to call it quits – if there is nothing to keep you occupied then you might rip his throat out.

Wonwoo doesn’t even ask if you want more coffee before he snags your empty mug and moves to the kitchenette. You don’t look up when he sets it back down, and only grab it and take the first sip of perfectly steaming hot sweetness when he flops back on the couch without another word. 

Then the power goes out again, and doesn’t come back.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Using the flashlight on your phone, you search the drawers of your desk for candles. There nowhere to be found amongst the stacks of unopened sticky notes and tangled cords. 

Wonwoo shuffles behind you, papers landing on the coffee table completely abandoned. “We’ve been at this for hours. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“I have them in here somewhere,” you bite, another handful of chargers and a stapled you’ve never used and other things you didn’t even realize you own fill the drawer. You move to the second. “There’s only a few tests left.”

“We can do them tomorrow. It can wait.”

“No,” you spit like a curse.

Whatever Wonwoo was planning to say dies on his lips. “Fine.” 

His shirt lands over your head, you rip it off only to find him half naked in the dark, huddling under one of the throw blankets you keep on the back of the couch. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping.”

“On the couch?” 

“Yep.”

“You’re too tall.”

“Well,” he draws like a pouty kid. “I don’t feel like sharing the bed with you.”

In a way it’s safer to argue about something trivial like this versus the entire reason you’ve iced each other out since that day in her office. Because at least like this, you won’t lose him. It’s stupid and petty but at least you’re speaking to each other; breaking through that wall of silence that’s been steadily growing more and more unnavigable as the inevitable draws nearer.

“Fine, then I’ll sleep on the couch and you take the bed.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. N. O.”

Fine.

It’s difficult to navigate in the dark. Your knees end up a victim to the edge of the coffee table and you trip over the edge of the rug, but you find the couch. Reaching down, you find his chest, then his shoulder. And once you’re sufficiently oriented you sit on him.

“Ow,” Wonwoo grunts as you flop down, elbow in his gut and his chin hitting your forehead. “What are you doing?”

You wedge in closer, slipping between his body and the cushions, bracing to kick him off by force if needed. “Sleeping.”

“Here?” he asks. Too aware of your plan, he turns as well, grabbing the back of the couch overhead to stay put.

“You’re too tall to sleep here.”

“And we’re both too big to sleep here together. Take the bed.”

“No,” you huff.

“No?”

“No. N.O. I believe you’re familiar with the word,” you spit.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“If you keep talking then neither of us will sleep.”

“Neither of us are gonna sleep anyway. You move too much to be comfortable like this.”

He’s right of course. Your hips already ache but if you move then he’ll find some way to pull you off. “I’m fine.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

You do the mature thing and bite him. 

The muscles corded around his pec twitch under your mouth as he flinches. “What the hell was that for?” 

You do it again.

“Stop.”

“Or what?” you ask, muffled in his skin as you move to leave another bite.

Wonwoo also does the mature thing and pins your wrists in one hand, maneuvering until you're sandwiched between the couch with his chest flat to your back.

“I can’t breathe like this,” you muffle into the cushions.

“Oh, how tragic.” You feel his words tickle the back of your neck rather than hear them. 

Wonwoo releases your wrists pinned to your stomach. His hand finds its way under your shirt, his shirt from some stupid frat fundraiser you’d been coerced into attending, flat to your belly with soothing circles. His calf hooks over your own to tangle your bodies together. He kisses the back of your neck, a simple brush of his lips that lingers.

It’s easier to feel everything in the dark. Your annoyance and frustration forged over the past weeks melts away and all that’s left is the need to have Wonwoo close. Just like this. Where there are no deadlines, or responsibilities. Where you both can drown in each others’ presence and everything else is washed away in the heavy drops pounding the windows outside.

Here, everything is uncomplicated.

The next rumble of thunder is loud enough to send you both in the air. Unfortunately, Wonwoo drags you backwards off the couch and to the floor. You land relatively unscathed but he knocks his elbow into the coffee table.

“Are you okay?”

Wonwoo groans and curses, cradling his elbow.

“Aw, tell the doctor where it hurts,” you coo, prodding his side.

He snatches your hand and pins it to his chest but not before lacing his fingers through your own. The gentle rise of and fall of breathing and the thud of his heart reverberates down your arm and straight into your own chest where something frozen softens. “Has anyone told you you’re annoying when you’re tired?”

“Yes. You. Lots of times.”

“Good. Wanna make sure you’re aware.”

Lighting turns everything white, a quick flash highlighting the room. There and gone and leaving you more disoriented than before. Rolling over, you hook a thigh over his lap which he welcomes, tugging you closer and absorbing the proximity like second nature. You’re a glutton for warmth –  Wonwoo’s warmth specifically – even in his sweater and his sweat shorts and his shirt, you still want more of him.

“We can’t sleep like this.”

You don’t want to move – laying like this, in the dark, nose dug into his chest as you twisting your fingers in his, squeezing and glowing pathetically when he squeezes back – all you want is to drown in him a little longer. Until you're forced to come up for breath.

But the sore spot between you two is still raw like a fresh bruise.

“Then sleep in the bed,” his lips drags over your knuckles as he speaks.

“No. You sleep in the bed, you’re too tall to sleep on the couch.”

“Fine.” Wonwoo jumps up from his place on the floor, grabbing your hands once again before dragging you around the coffee table towards the opposite side of the room. It’s ridiculously childish, especially in the dark where he bounces off the desk and the rug roughens the back of your legs.

He shimmies you around a corner and a cloud of laughter puffs between your lips. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping in the bed, and you’re sleeping in the bed with me.”

“What if I don’t want to sleep next to you?”

“Then I’ll cry. Like that time we watched Steel Magnolias.”

“Have mercy,” you whimper.

“Then get your ass in bed.”

Deflating like a balloon, you stand. Wonwoo keeps his hands on you the entire time, guiding you down to the mattress and covering your body with his own just in case of an escape. He bunkers down in the safety of your neck, dragging your hands to his hair, mimicking the motions he craves until you take up the action and gently comb through the tangles.

A part of you wants to cry. Preemptively mourn the end of this – whatever this is. Late nights with Wonwoo, whispering in the dark about clueless underclassmen and annoying professors. Taking turns scrolling through adoptable cats at the local rescue. Cooing over them, rolling your eyes when Wonwoo finds Pixel still listed as available for adoption, a sign to him that he’s meant to have her except he lives in a frat house. Or the nights neither of you can sleep and take a trip to the local diner and tuck yourselves away in a corner booth to watch drunk people cling to consciousness over waffles and hash browns. 

There will be no more of that. Not by the time winter break comes. One of you is getting the gold ticket and the other will be up in the air with the hundreds of other people competing for the same handful of slots. And if one of you doesn't get in? 

“Was that so hard?” he whispers into your collar.

When you don’t answer, he looks up at. In the cast of lighting coming through the window he’s the same Wonwoo. The one you’ve been best friends with for years now. The one who is practically glued to your side whenever possible. 

The one who you’ll have to say goodbye to.

He meets your kiss lazily. Like he still thinks you have all the time in the world.

It makes the urge to cry that much worse.

The rain is gone by morning. 

The room glows from the orange light of the first minutes of sunrise. Sometime in the night you rolled to your side and Wonwoo pressed tight to your back. He’s awake, drawing shapes on your hip beneath the fabric of your shirt.

“Morning.” 

You hum and roll over to burrow in his chest, the crown of your head digging into his neck and away from the sun. “Morning.”

The warmth of his hands trace the curve of your back, pulling you closer; hiding his own discontent with such an early break in the tentative truce that only seems to exist in the late hours of night and earliest minutes of dawn. Days of sleep deprivation with nothing but sterile lighting in the lab leaves you both needy and vulnerable. So he hugs you tighter and sighs when you do the same.

He’s hard against your thigh. Clearly a result of biology more than need because he’s snoring against your hairline. Flashes of dreams rush forward – him beneath you, on top of you, behind you. It’s been weeks since you two last fucked. When you called him an idiot and he called you stubborn and next thing you were on the table with your legs spread for Wonwoo’s hand in a clumsy bump and grind while arguing about which one of you fucked up the biosensor callibration through gritted teeth and needy whimpers.

You’re wet. With his thigh pressed between your own the fact becomes more evident as the urge to curl into it nags.

Taking advantage of the exposed curve of skin beneath your mouth, you kiss and suck with lax intent until Wonwoo tips his chin up and gives a silent green light.

A heavy hand drags down his front, nails scratching bluntly through the fabric until it can slip beneath the waistband of his sweats and the curve of his cock sits pretty in your palm. Commando for convenience and comfort. More the latter because there’s no shot in hell he’s been getting laid lately.

His breath is sticky in his throat, vibrating beneath your teeth from thin pants as you work him through a loose fist. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Yes.”

Slouching down, your head rests on his stomach, sweatpants bunched around his thighs. The first lick sends his hips up in search of more and you eagerly supply the soft suction of your mouth; lips catching around the flared head. A hand on the back of your skull keeps your hair from interfering as he plumps against your tongue. 

Eagerness fails to penetrate this moment slowed down by the greater need to drag this out. To savor every second because who knows when you’ll both stop being petty enough to just enjoy one another’s presence again.

“Might cum—fuck— don’t stop,” he grunts.

With the sun filling the room even more you’re running out of time, the warmth growing to leave sweat at the small of your back. He pushes harder into the curve of your throat and you let him, gagging wet with a lewd mix of spit and pre-cum that has you both moaning at the choked sound. Jaw slack, Wonwoo fucks your mouth with slow ruts; stomach tightening and the hand in your hair fisting tight enough you moan.

“Shit, babe—c-cumming,” he whines with a pathetic groan you’d make fun of him for later but all you can think about is the thick taste of cum and if there’s enough time for some attention between your own legs before life becomes unignorable. Not enough time for a real fuck but Wonwoo has a few tricks up his sleeve that promise satisfaction.

You bounce back down next to him and Wonwoo pounces, rolling on top of you, thing between your spread legs. He doesn’t shy away from your tongue against his teeth, dips a thumb beneath your chin and slips his tongue right along with it, sucks your lips until the swell, backing off only to bunch your shirt up. Lazy drags of his mouth on yours – not the ‘I need you’ kisses after a late night but the ‘I miss you’ ones after weeks of passive aggressive silence.

He licks down your front, goosebumps blooming from the draft as he sucks a nipple until you arch and twist a hand in his hair. You give a lax stretch and sigh while his hand slips beneath the edge of your panties.

Taking the morning for what it is, you fall into the motions until the blare of the alarm clock signals the beginning of the end.

You push away and swipe blindly at the night stand to make it stop but Wonwoo has other plans. 

He pins your hips down, tongue flat to the crotch of your underwear with a pant. “Ignore it.”

“What?” You look at him and find tired eyes watching back from over the edge of your wrinkled shirt. His hair is a mess, stuck to the side of his head from sleep and your eager hands and all you want to do is comb the tangles out while he pulls your strings like a puppet master.

But you can’t.

“We’ve got class,” you gasp through a hot kiss on your clit.

A groggy groan of, “skip,” vibrates on your skin.

Fingers curling in the sheets, you grasp for disagreement only to find a moan as he pulls your hips closer and works a finger where you need it most.

“We can’t.”

“We can,” Wonwoo grunts, focusing on peppering greedy kisses to the sensitive insides of your thighs. “We’ve been early every time this semester.”

The hand not curling in your guts runs down the back of your calf, bending until it hooks over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Wonu,” you whine over the crude sounds of his mouth. You want to. God, do you want to. But you open your eyes again and they land on the stack of exams on your desk. Ungraded. Because Wonwoo said you could do them this morning. And now he wants you to skip class despite how important it is. 

You close your legs only for Wonwoo to take it as a challenge, pinning your hips in place and celebrating his perceived victory with a throaty moan as he rocks against the bed.

“Stop.”

He pulls back, mouth wet and brows furrowed. “Huh?”

The alarm on your phone pings again. Swiftly silenced this time as you roll out from beneath him and land beside the mattress on unsteady feet. “We can’t skip. We have to give exams back.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he argues, flopping down into the warmth you left vacant.

The room is too bright, a clear sign your morning routine is behind. “You think now is the time to start slacking off?”

“It’s not slacking off.” Wonwoo snags his glasses. He looks more annoyed with them. “It’s a break. You clearly need one.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Just forget it. I’m not arguing with you about stupid shit.”

“And what's stupid shit? The job we signed up for? With the professor who controls our futures?”

Wonwoo fixes his pants and rolls out of bed. On the opposite side. As far away from you as possible. “Whatever.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“Good!”

“Good!”

You slam the bathroom door shut with finality. When you come back out, any trace of Wonwoo is long gone.

There aren’t many people in class. A benefit of Halloweekend is the partying starts Wednesday and doesn’t stop until the following week. Even with last night's rain plenty of students are battling hangovers which leaves a third of the usual lecture attendance to witness you and Wonwoo go head to head while Dr. Wagner sits at home with a mysterious illness she announced in an email three minutes after nine AM.

The few that are there snag their papers, lips curled in disgust at the plethora of red ink spilled on white pages. Their own faults for not paying attention during lecture but maybe the scarlet gashes were a little dramatic. Wonwoo’s jaw is tight, pointedly ignoring you except to hand exams over that someone is waiting for with dread in their eyes. 

You could’ve skipped. It wouldn’t even count as skipping because class is canceled and there’s no award for hauling ass at the crack of dawn when your advisor isn’t even here to see it. You could be tucked away in your apartment with him under your skin; firmly in the place between dreams and waking where you liked him best, nothing but warm skin and rough hands with his lips on your hairline and your head burrowed in his chest. 

There are too many witnesses to just drop the act and wrap your arms around him from behind until he gives in. Apologize for the stupid shit he rightfully called you out on. But as your courage grows with each student’s exit, Wonwoo makes to leave before you can make use of it. 

Barely an hour of fighting and it already feels like an eternity.

“Hey,” you call.

He freezes by one of the desks near the back of the room, like he’s shocked you’re even there in the first place. But he doesn’t turn around; just tilts his head so you know he’s listening even if he doesn’t want to.

“Sorry about this morning. I-I think the stress is getting to me.”

And the fact that I can’t be mad at anyone besides the universe for this incredibly shitty situation. And I miss you. Even when you’re right next to me.

“Okay.”

“That’s it?” you fidget with the strap of your bag; a million pounds heavier even without the weight of ungraded tests that Wonwoo snatched before you could divide the remaining work.

He turns around, eying you with an exasperated look. “What else should I say? You called me a slack off and implied I don’t do my job.”

“I didn’t,” you argue but it’s salt in the wound because—

“You did.”

“But—”

“It’s fine. I’ll finish grading the exams over the weekend.”

And then you're alone.

You’re alone in the study room you both usually occupy to work on the Nanochemistry project due at the end of term. The shared document has updates, the blink of his cursor mocking your from wherever he hunkered down. Away from you. The temptation to type ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again disappears once he logs out barely a minute after you logged on.

You’re alone at the circulation desk of the library through your shift, head whipping around to every squeak and cough only to find someone who isn’t Wonwoo. There’s an email from him, to Dr. Wagner with you CC’ed, about class averages and exam questions that should be thrown out.

You walk home alone. Other students in various states of dress and intoxication crowd the sidewalks, a few you recognize but they feel a million miles away.

Alone in your apartment, the two mugs from last night clean in the sink.

The good part of being alone is when you start crying, no one is there to see.

It’s near midnight and the chill of the breeze whipping down the street bites at your exposed skin. Already the should-be-condemned frat house pulses with life, the promise of a long night ahead thrumming through the symphony of drunk screams and music.

It’s not unusual for you to attend frat parties. Wonwoo’s favor guarantees free booze and a perch at the top of the staircase where underclassmen are barred from entering. But you’ll settle for watching drunk underclassman stumbling over the front lawn from one of the couches on the front porch (which are so broken in, no one sinks into the cushions – they just fall straight down until the worn springs catch them) because the inside of the house is too hot, and too crowded, and far too loud. 

A hail Mary apology is the only thing on your mind. Yesterday had been the nastiest spat in recent history between you two; notwithstanding sophomore year when Jeonghan asked you for tutoring and Wonwoo insisted on helping. “Helping” meant cutting off every question Jeonghan dared ask with a series of snorts and huffs until you left and refused to talk to him for a week.

He’d apologized in the most Wonwoo fashion – completing your Thermodynamics assignments for the rest of the semester and before going down on you until you threatened to kick him in the head through sensitive sobs.

Wonwoo is here – somewhere. Shuffling up the past, past the line of eager party goers looking for a way in, you scan the front porch, he’s not in his usual waiting spot to whisk you upstairs where the older members hang out with better drinks and better music. Not that he would be. He doesn’t even know you considered coming to this.

Instead, poor Chan, dressed in yellow and black stripes, mans the door with pilot Jihoon by his side.

“Jihoon,” you greet, before looking at the younger man. “Speed bump.”

Chan mumbles something under his breath but lays on the ground regardless. When Wonwoo went through the same hazing you only got a few chances to enjoy the ridiculousness before he dragged you upstairs and shut you up himself.

“Can you not torment the kids?” Jihoon grunts.

“I could. But, where’s the fun in that?” 

“Your boyfriend is inside. If you see Jun, tell him it’s his turn to watch the door.”

“Got it.”

Stepping over the underclassman still laying on the ground, you head inside and straight for the packed kitchen to get a drink. There’s barely any space between the hoard of bodies, forcing you to shuffle forward everytime there's a gap in the crowd; but it’s more like swimming against a rip tide. 

It’s difficult to see with nothing but a few strobe lights and some strings of Christmas lights to clear the dark. One glance up towards the upper landing of the staircase is all it takes to find him right next to Mingyu. Matching costume, two bean poles standing out from the crowd of shorter men. Mingyu makes a brief nod in your direction but before you can see Wonwoo turn you’re off into the kitchen.

It’s an even tighter fit in here. A pledge pours drinks from a cooler, for a brief second you’re tempted to indulge. The last time you did, freshman year, you ended up crying in Wonwoo’s room mid-hookup. You scan the slim pickings and settle on an unopened beer. The shots you took while getting ready are already catching up.

Forced between anxious isolation and drinking, a few of your friends come up and briefly make conversation. You feign interest, eying over their heads for a familiar mop of dark hair without success.

A few guys stop to compliment your costume. They give themselves away in glazed heavily lidded stares, single minded focus on your legs. They ask what your major is, boast their status as pledges to your disinterested grimace, and move on when you finally put them out of their misery and fib about your “boyfriend” being “president or something” but “I don’t pay attention to those things,” and they all disappear significantly paler than when they first appeared.

You bite the bullet of your pride and turn to leave, only to find Wonwoo barely an inch away.

His eyes burn over your figure, the short toga covering just enough for you to avoid public indecency. Good. It’s the entire reason you wore this stupid costume in the first place. He’s a horny loser for nerdy shit and this is the best thing you could’ve worn other than one of those video game character costumes forcing your boobs in your throat and leaving you at serious risk for public indecency.

It’s not the first time you’ve wrapped yourself in barely enough fabric to constitute an outfit for the sake of his forgiveness and it probably won’t be the last.

Wonwoo pins you to the counter with his hips, hands bracketing your figure on either side. The green hat with an ‘L’ is lopsided on his head but at least he didn’t wear the fake mustache. “So, what is your costume?” he hums into the space just below your ear with a kiss.

“Guess.” You tilt your chin, cocky.

“And if I get it right?” he asks, lips at your ear.

Heart pound, you ditch the beer and reach for his hips with purpose. “Whatever you want.”

“Dangerous words.”

“Think of it as my apology for being a huge bitch yesterday.” 

He sighs into your neck, arms tight around your waist in a loose semblance of a hug. It’s a farce. Your ass meets the counter with minor effort and Wonwoo claims the space between your legs before you can pretend to object.

He still hasn’t kissed you.

You want more than kisses. You want to feel him, all of him. Want to drag him to the living room serving as a makeshift dance floor and sink into the heat of his body pressed flat against your own for everyone to see. You want to pull him into that closet off the main hall, familiar from that hot night of freshman year when a drunk make out turned into a timid fingering and eventually Wonwoo handing over his first time on a silver platter. Or even run back to your apartment, pluck through the leftover Halloween candy you bought on discount and watch whatever horror movie has become his recent obsession. You just want him.

“Mingyu thought you were Socrates.”

Pressed this close on the sticky counter, his body is the only thing protecting what little of your dignity is left. Even then, there's enough of the slippery warmth of alcohol to tempt you into rutting against him right here for those stupid pledges to see. “Mingyu is an idiot.”

“Clearly,” he chuckles. “The rubber chicken gave it away.”

You shake it at eye level. “Behold, man.”

“Lame,” his kissing gets bold down the shaft of your neck, teeth scraping your collarbone.

“Oh please, I feel your boner.���

He doesn’t resist you when you nuzzle along the bare parts of his neck, a tease of soft kissing usually reserved for quiet moments tucked away in your apartment. Even in the chaos of the party, body heat turning the air uncomfortably warm, you crave more of his closeness. 

His hands feel nice on your legs. None of the timid gentleness of years prior when he’d touch you like it’d burn if he wanted it too much; trailing higher and higher but never under the short hem of the bedsheet turned dress. His fingers flex into the muscle at the outside of your thigh, hook behind your knees and drag you to the edge of the counter. 

You're sweating through your own skin when he kisses you. 

The need in your gut blooms at full force. Your mouth loosens, welcoming his tongue and teeth and whatever else he’s generous enough to give while you tug at the loose fabric around his hips to force more close proximity; the zipper of his pants is hot against your core and if you fucked him right here it wouldn’t look that different than the PG-13 make out happening right now. 

“Wanna show me your room?” You blink like some moony eyed freshman, glassy, pupils blown from vivid images of all the possibilities in the solitude upstairs. Wonwoo is fine with the game of whatever your apology entails even if it means you throw cheesy lines like that.

He ushers you off the counter, flat to your back as he pushes through the crowd with you ahead. Even in a drunken haze people part out of his way because of the mastery of resting bitch face only he seems to have despite the complaint putty that lies behind it. A private smile splits your lips. He can’t be that mad. Not with how he pulls you closer, in the protective way he so often does in the buzz of a single minded crowd with more alcohol in their veins than blood. 

Mingyu is standing on the landing. Girls in scraps of fabric eye him up and down, even in his stupid costume with the mustache but he ignores them in favor of pouting straight into a red cup.

“Why is your boyfriend moping?” 

“Fuck if I know.” Wonwoo focuses on sucking another bruise on your neck like no one's watching. 

You’re loose enough not to care about Mingyu’s annoyance as Wonwoo ushers you by. “Cheer up buttercup, I’m sure there’s a Peach here into charity fucks!” 

It’s meant to be encouraging, but Mingyu looks like he’s torn between strangling you and throwing himself over the banister.

Maybe you did lie about being Wonwoo’s girlfriend, but he is president and his room is the biggest and furthest away from chaos. Up on the top floor where the music isn’t as loud and the only people on this floor are other members and their guests for the night.

Wonwoo pushes you inside, kicking the door shut loud enough you wince before crowding you against the wood. You throw his hat away somewhere into the darkness, hand twisted in his hair as he kisses you. Sloppy and gross until he rocks into the softness of your stomach, gasoline on the flame.

“Turn around.”

He barely gives you enough space to do so, pressing you flat once again, cheek squished to the door and a rough pull at your waist. 

“If you’re thinking about touching my asshole, don’t. I have shit to do tomorrow,” you warn. 

On the other side of the door you hear footsteps but they pass by without stopping.

“Noted, but not what I’m going for,” he jokes. 

Your skirt flips up and a draft against the damp crotch of your panties sends a tremor straight through your core. “Share with the class.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I’m shaking in my toga.”

“And you call me a loser.”

“I can call you some other things,” you grit, pushing back into the heat of his covered cock. “They aren’t as nice though.”

“Yeah, yeah. Take your panties off.” 

He’s a little bit of a freak. Sometimes he enjoys fucking you in nothing but your underwear and others he wants you in everything but. Maybe because of how this entire thing started; when you wouldn’t even take your bra off and he survived on the barest flash of nipple.

The flimsy soiled fabric barely passes your knees before he’s on you again, easily tempted by the arch of your spine. You hum content as he presses a finger into your cunt, then two. His other hand forces the neckline of your dress down and lo-and-behold your lack of bra delights like you knew it would.

Whatever bright idea that fluttered in Wonwoo’s brain is forgotten as he spins you back around for an eyeful of naked skin; a mouthful of your chest and your leg hooked around his hip for a pathetic dry hump into the heel of his hand.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan with extra emphasis and a caved stomach because there’s teeth and he makes it hurt. “Kiss me.”

Another rut into your thigh and his teeth are back at your bottom lip. It’s not exactly what you anticipated when you showed up tonight but there are far worse places than having a doorknob in your back while Wonwoo leaves a hickey below your ear; a perfectly good bed ten feet away but neither of you can be bothered to move much more than forcing Wonwoo’s pants down enough his cock leaks in your grip, head nestled at your entrance.

You surprise him by sinking to your knees. Head tipped back against the door, you tilt your mouth open to welcome him on your tongue. Wonwoo stares down at you; tits out, hand between your legs as you suck his cock in quick motions until he takes over and fucks into the curve of your throat. 

“Holy s-shit,” he hisses and you flatten your tongue to help him along. It feels good; seeing him reduced to so little just from the wet suck of your mouth on him. 

A choked gag forces Wonwoo back into his body, hips curving away so you can swallow air before leaving a sloppy kiss on the tip. Seizing him in a tight grip, you use the spit to jerk him off until he cringes with another pathetic moan. 

Someone giggles in the hallway, close enough you both hear. They’re far enough away you can still whisper to Wonwoo. “Remember that time we fucked in here last year?” 

“When you almost got us killed?”

Last year, at the same party, when you showed up in a skin tight Shego costume, Wonwoo pulled you to the only available room: Seungcheol’s. It’d been hot. Fucking when you aren’t supposed to, having Seungcheol pound at the door while Wonwoo came down your throat (no condoms and no hope to clean up).

“Do it again.”

His hand creeps into a loose collar around the base of your throat. You keep rubbing between your legs, working up a slick slide until your nails dig into the skin of his thighs.

“Really?” There’s no need for muffling the noise when it's his room and the only people at risk of hearing anything have done far worse. He pulls you to your feet, forces your cheek against the door and slides right behind you. Like he was made for you.

“Choke me,” you gasp before digging into the sick part of your brain that likes seeing him strung out, extra breathy just to see his eyes go wide. “Sir.”

Your skin sticks to the door, shamefully squeezed as he drags his cock through the mess of your pussy. “You can’t just say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because—”

“Because what?” you goad. “Gonna punish me?”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Show up wearing this,” he grits, tugging at the white fabric bunched around your waist, using the hand on your throat to squeeze your cheeks tight with authority you drool for.  “Asking to be choked and now you probably want me to spank you and call you a good girl.”

You grunt through the raw thrust at your gut, sending your head back from sheer enthusiasm. “N–not my fault you fuck me so good.” 

Wonwoo almost can’t control himself, hearing nothing but praise fall from your mouth as he fucks you limp against the door. “God.”

Someone screams, “Leave room for Jesus!” from the other side of the door and you almost rip it open to kill them if Wonwoo wasn’t dragging you to the bed. 

He folds you onto your front, both standing at the foot of the bed. A deep roll of his hips and you’re filled completely. 

“O-oh, fuck me,” you moan, uncaring if the idiot outside the door is still listening. Wonwoo has a hell of a hand and puts it to use against the curve of your ass. The coil in your gut pulls taunt as he delivers one after another.

He fucks deeper, a the hand not burn against your bottom between your shoulders. “You look so good— ah —taking my cock like this.” His voice waivers with the same stunted rhythm of his hips. 

“W-want,” you choke on spit, drooling into the comforter. “Wanna taste you.”

The animalist need to suck both your flavors off his cock nearly sends you into a fit but Wonwoo’s there, hooking his hand back around the front of your neck with a subtle squeeze. You want the stupid dress off, you want Wonwoo’s clothes off, you want to fuck him where there’s no one around to catcall in the hallway like twelve year old boys. Want. Want. Want.

What you get is enough pressure from his fingers that your mind blanks. Wonwoo gets a tight enough squeeze on his cock that he’s forced to a grinding halt. 

Then his rhythm goes deeper, harder. Course curls against the resistance of your ass until you almost collapse against the edge of the bed. His cock hits that spot like it was made for your body. “Touch yourself.”

You comply without further command. You’re wet, soaked, arousal smeared down your thighs from Wonwoo’s treatment. Your fingers bump against his length as you match the pace of his strokes. “Fuck, Wonwoo — hmmm.” 

“Tell me how it feels,” he gasps like it’s his first breath in hours.

“Wet, so wet,” you croon, arching harder, joints locking. “Gonna cum. Oh my god.”

He reaches low, grabbing your hand from between your thighs and pulling it to his mouth for a taste. His tongue slides between your digits, liquid slick with a soft suction your crave on your clit. 

“Beg for it.” Wonwoo bites your shoulder hard enough you cry. 

Stuffing your hand back between your legs, you play with your clit clumsily. Until pink crowds the edge of your vision and it hurts. “Please, please! I need—Want it. Wanna come for you. Please, sir.”

Wonwoo strains to hear your pleas over the clap of bodies. He’s worked you near the middle of the bed, practically laying on top of you as he fucks in quick succession. 

“Harder, fuck me,” you demand. “Yes, yes, y–yes!”

If you were on top you’d fall straight off, jerking tightly under Wonwoo’s weight, turning your face to greet his tongue between your teeth and mewling sensitivity. He doesn’t show mercy, continuing to fuck you through the worst of it.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, head throbbing. Wonwoo forces you back on your knees and you fight through sore muscles and sensitivity to preen under the weight behind his hips. 

“Can I come in you?” he asks in a shivery breath.

You nod with closed eyes, tugging the hand around your throat to your lips and sucking his fingers like it’s a cock. He finishes with a choked breath, flooding your insides with sticky warmth you’ve never gotten used to in all the months you’ve fucked without condoms. 

His breath fans against the nape of your neck, another swivel of his hips from the sensitivity. Your walls squeeze as Wonwoo pulls away. 

You roll onto your back with a bounce, Wonwoo jostling you when he joins. Shoulder to shoulder, you stare up at the ceiling while catching your breath. “Do you think you’ll pop a boner when your students call you a sir next year?”

Wonwoo heaves a long breath, amusement in his voice. “I come inside you and that's the first thing you think of?”

Immediately you regret the joke. Since Dr. Wagner’s announcement weeks ago neither of you had broached on the topic of what happens after graduation. Mostly from fear. But also because it’s a long discussion you’re not exactly sure what you want out of.

“Answer the question.”

“I hope not.”

The bed shifts beneath your knees as you crowd over Wonwoo, laying with his arms behind him to keep from sinking flat. The tired lines of his face look deeper in the lamp light. He’s nothing more than a big softie that wants to cuddle half naked in his bed while you play with his hair until sleep finds its place.

“It’s our last Halloween party.”

“Wow, just like old times,” you snort. “Should I start crying? Then it’ll be just like freshman year all over.”

Wonwoo laughs, his hand snatching yours and lacing your fingers together. “You wore a bra and bunny ears freshman year so if you’re gonna whip that out too – by all means.”

“God, we were so lame,” you announce matter of factly. Crying in lingerie and animal ears in one of the supply closets downstairs all because—

“Don’t rope me into that, miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’.” Wonwoo rolls on top of you, hoping to silence whatever argument bubbling in response with a teasing press of his lips. You're still sticky with sweat and spit and cum, nipples and pussy out and the thought of his dick, limp against your thigh, makes you sensitive all over.

“That’s former miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’,” you trail off into his mouth. “And you’re one to talk. Remember the time you cried about how happy you were that we were friends.”

He bites your lip in retaliation. “I didn’t.”

“You did. I have the video from Mingyu.”

“I thought he was an idiot.”

“He is but he’s good for blackmail.”

You might consider staying the night if he keeps tracing his nose along the arch of your collarbone. But a shrill giggle and some pornographic moans ring through the walls of the neighboring room. Not the side Seungkwan occupies. Hoshi’s. And it’s only the start.

“We can’t sleep here.”

Wonwoo collapses, tugging you with him. “I can’t ditch again, I’m on pledge duty.”

“You’re hiding in your room with me.”

“Okay, technically I’m on pledge duty.”

He wouldn’t stay here if he wasn’t required. Wonwoo hates party nights, especially Halloween. Too many variables requiring all hands on deck; too many needy people demanding his presence for some issue that could’ve been handled if they used their brain to think farther than the tip of their nose. Rarely, if ever, does he sleep in his own bed when you have a perfectly good one tucked away in a private apartment without thirty other men tripping over each other. 

“Well, I’m not sleeping with that.” On cue, another whimper, clearly a man’s, breaks through the tentative silence. Are they fuck against the shared wall?

Wonwoo sighs, scrubbing his face before moving for his phone. “I’ll send one of the kids to walk you.”

“Wow, a pledge escort. How thoughtful,” you sneer.

He huffs again, unwilling to start a fight that’ll leave neither of you satisfied. “Text me when you get home.”

You don’t.

There is an unspoken habit between you and Wonwoo that Sunday mornings are spent at the only reasonably priced coffee shop just near your apartment. A charming hole in the wall, with hanging shelves displaying layers of tchotchkes, paintings lining whatever free space between them, and wobbly tables with equally unbalanced chairs. It’s always packed because the coffee is decent and they have outlets. After last night, you hope he’s too exhausted to even think about showing up.

Mugs click against dark lacquered tables, the dull murmur of conversation churns over the music swelling softly through the speakers. The smell of pastries and espresso wake you enough to slide into a vacant table in the corner and set to work. 

Or you would’ve if someone didn’t sit down first.

“Oh.”

Wonwoo already has a mug and a little brown bag as he looks up at where you stand dumbly.

“I can just go…sit somewhere else…” You turn to leave, except there are no other tables. Couples and groups claim every single seat except the one across from Wonwoo.

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know, probably because I’m mad at you.”

He unpacks his laptop, shaking his head. “You’re not mad at me.”

“Yes, I am,” you emphasize. 

“You’re a bad liar.”

Neither of you are good at lying. Even worse at fighting. Incapable of committing to real anger when it takes all your energy to stand up straight and not fall asleep in a pile of ungraded papers and half finished assignments. Besides, you're only pouting because he passed up a night at your place to clean up pledge vomit. 

You can’t tame the annoyed grin cracking your face.  “Fine, I’m not that mad at you. Buy my forgiveness in the form of coffee.”

“Too much caffeine will kill you.”

“I can only hope,” you sigh, arms cradling your head against the hard wood of the table while he joins the queue at the register.

Wonwoo orders your drink and a cheesy pastry the size of your head, the smell of greasy carbs first thing in the morning softening the ice in your veins. He knows your weaknesses too well. 

“Is this penance?” 

“Something like that.” He tears the crispiest corner off and pops it into his mouth.

“Did you look at the study guide for Calc yet?”

Two hours later you approach the counter for a second round of coffee and snag one of the jammy tarts Wonwoo likes but rarely buys for himself. Whatever chaffs between you two melts under the constant stream of note checking; Wonwoo’s hand on your knee under the table helps too. 

“If I look at this anymore, I’ll run into traffic.”

“We’ve got the Nano project that needs some work,” you suggest. 

He stretches wide, a sliver of skin visible between the hem of his sweater and the band of sweat pants. “I’ve got practice in an hour. We can do it tonight when I’m done.”

You try not to stare and instead return to focusing on the screen of your laptop burning your retinas.“I’m tutoring Seungkwan.”

“After?”

“He’s gonna be a bitch and the last thing I wanna do is look at more school stuff.”

“Then no school stuff,” he decrees with finality. “I’ll bring mushroom pad thai from that place on Market.”

“Are you trying to bribe your way in?”

“Is it working?”

You hum a dismissal but watch him through your lashes. He looks good – washed in late afternoon glow, hair a mess with glasses and a sweater that hangs off his shoulders. It all screams ‘drag me to bed and nap the rest of the day’ which is trouble for you because you still want to be mad at him if only to see how fair he’s willing to go for your forgiveness.

“We can watch Yellowjackets,” he barters, packing his bag.

Another group eyes your table with hope to claim it the second it’s available. Sadly, your ass is firmly planted for the rest of the afternoon. With or without Wonwoo.

“You’re really trying to butter me up, aren’t you?”

“I cannot sleep in that house,” he deadpans. “Please take mercy.”

“Oh, so you’re just using me for a place to sleep. Even after I wore that stupid Halloween costume?”

He pauses, eyes glazing like it’s a distant memory and not less than twenty four hours ago. “You looked hot.”

“You made that pretty clear.”

“Anyway, I’ll come over after practice. You can bitch about Seungkwan until you pass out.”

“Fine, but if there is no pad thai then don’t come.”

“Whatever my woman demands,” he snorts, dropping a kiss to your lips before turning towards the door.

Two hours and another coffee later, Seungkwan occupies Wonwoo’s abandoned chair. There’s no reason for him to be taking an intro chem class as a Creative Writing major other than the fact he’s a bit of a masochist. He’s not half bad at it and doesn’t really need any tutoring but you get paid for showing up even if it’s complete silence as you pick your nails until he needs something.

You’re marking through his latest attempt when he finally speaks up, “You're dating Wonwoo, right?”

Red pen scratches through the edge of the paper. “What?”

“You and Wonwoo.”

What is the absolute configuration of the two carbon atoms in this compound? More red ink.

“What about me and Wonwoo?”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes with exasperation, like you’re on the outs of some obvious joke. “Dating.”

If an alkene has 24 hydrogen atoms, how many carbon atoms does it contain? Another X.

“No.”

“Oh, I thought—”

“We’re just friends.”

When 10 g of 90% pure lime stone is heated completely, the volume (in litres) of is liberated at STP is… Wrong, again. Which makes no sense because Seungkwan is good at this level. He’s fucking with you on purpose.

“Huh,” he comments, grabbing the worksheet back from your claws.

“‘Huh’ what?”

“I heard a rumor he had a girlfriend last night, that’s all.”

It's not the first time someone assumed there's more between you and Wonwoo then there actually is, your fib last night clearly fanned the flames of even more speculation. But neither of you date; not enough time, willpower, or patience to entertain someone around packed schedules. If you and Wonwoo didn’t have the same life within the chemistry department then you’d never see each other. It’s convenient as it can possibly be. 

Maybe at one point there was. Summer of sophomore year when he studied abroad in Spain and the usual substance of correspondence morphed from memes and jokes to something softer; I miss you’s and you’d like it here’s. Late night phone calls that lasted hours, refusing to hang up first until one of you fell asleep and the other finally canceled the call. 

But the opportunity to tip over the edge came and went without coalescing into whatever was on the other side. 

Seungkwan can pretend it’s an innocent suggestion but he stares you down until you crack with your own curiosity. “Who told you that?”

“Some pledges said they accidentally hit on his girlfriend. I don't even think he knows another girl beside you. Plus you were at the party last night.”

Stupid fuckers, you mutter under your breath. “We’re not dating.”

“But you guys are always together.”

“We work together. You and Vernon are always together, are you two fucking?”

“My room is next to his and it doesn’t sound like work to me.”

“How does me failing you sound?” you spit. 

Seungkwan doesn't so much as flinch at the threat but returns to the practice sheet with a smile nonetheless. 

Typically, fall break is spent hidden away in a pile of blankets with you and Wonwoo alternating movie choices throughout the weekend. Dead Poets Society (him), When Harry Met Sally (you), Over the Garden Wall (him), Fantastic Mr Fox (you), and so on and so on.

This year, you have a strong feeling Dr. Wagner’s favorite pastime is seeing her TAs squirm. It’s the only explanation for the unique brand of humiliation she subjects you and Wonwoo to. Tonight, Friday and technically your first night off for the long weekend, she decides to engage in a new sort of torture. A fancy dinner that neither of you could ever hope to afford, and even as her treat, you still eye the menu prices nervously. 

But Dr. Collins sits across the table, in the flesh, so you pull out the skills you learned in the ridiculous theater class you took freshman year to “diversify” your transcript and smile through the anxiety. 

Wonwoo does a little better; in a button up you’ve only seen him wear a handful of times when his usual wardrobe is sweatshirts and free shirts from campus events, he looks more comfortable than you feel.

“Jill, tells me you both work on Epitranscriptomic mapping in her lab?” Dr. Collins asks after another sip of his drink. Two whiskeys at dinner. 

It’s not an official interview. Not anything close to it, according to your advisor. Nothing is set in stone, even if Dr. Collins laughs at Wonwoo’s awkward jokes and nods enthusiastically to your stories about working in the library (he also worked in the library in undergrad, but used it to nap more than actually work). But it feels like a step in the right direction. 

“Yes, sir.” Wonwoo and you nod in tandem.

Dr. Wagner’s research focuses on how different RNA modifications vary across various cell types and states. It’s high level stuff that no one but Wonwoo understands when you rant about the broken Cellraft machine. And his complaints about NovaSec’s constant crashes that leave him without work fall on deaf ears except when they’re directed at you. 

Half the reason you two started speaking during orientation is because the overly enthusiastic intern asked what people were looking forward to the most during school. You and Wonwoo were the only ones who seemed to think she meant school-related and not where to buy a fake ID. Apparently, the best person to get a fake ID from was a junior in Dr. Wagner’s lab that year. Go figure.

“I’ve seen you two listed down the line as co-authors,” he nods. 

The waiter brings dessert, spiced toffee cakes and ice cream. You’re starving but the knot in your stomach from when you sat down is even tighter and all you can do is pick at the plate.

“Well, Y/N does a lot of the troubleshooting for the RNA degradation issues,” Wonwoo shares. 

Your face heats at the unexpected but not undeserved compliment. Dr. Wagner’s work isn’t cheap and the thought of wasting valuable money, money that could line the pocket of an extra set of hands, forced you to run a tight ship. The other researchers in her lab could say what they wanted behind your back but Dr. Wagner nods with fondness and you try not to preen.

“We’d be a mess if it wasn’t for her,” Dr. Wagner agrees. “The lab techs should write her a card.”

Not wanting to leave him out, you shoot a look to your left where Wonwoo pulls at the napkin in his lap. “Wonwoo is the one that made sure the parameters made sense for the last publication.”

“Also true.” Dr. Wagner smiles. “I told you, Harry, they’re my best students. Excel a mile past my TAs last year. They work together exceptionally well. If I could keep them both for next year, I would.” She says it with finality. There might very well be an opportunity to stay here and continue in her lab, even if your ambition has outgrown the place you’ve called home for four years.

The table is cleared, your plate full of mashed cake and melted ice cream with not a single bite missing. You’re exhausted. Mentally, emotionally; physically from the three all nighters you’ve pulled this week. There’d be an earful from Wonwoo about the dangers of sleep deprivation (hypocrite) but he looks like he’s seen a ghost tonight and won’t sleep himself.

Dr. Collins glances at his watch with a muffled yawn, “My, my! Look at the time! My apologies I didn't mean to keep us all out so late. I know you two probably have far more interesting things to be doing than spending the evening with a couple old timers like us.” He winks at Dr. Wagner, who rolls her eyes and hands the check back to the waiter who can’t be more than nineteen. “It looks like I’ll have some tough decisions to make in the upcoming weeks. Best of luck to the both of you.”

Hands shakes all around, and an awkward shuffle at the door and Dr. Collins and Dr. Wagner disappear into the night, leaving you and Wonwoo alone on the long walk back to campus.

You don’t beeline to your apartment for a debrief. Or even to ignore the obvious awkwardness cracking between. A bench to the side of the campus green is where you find yourselves, across from the fountain that upholds the tradition of drunken seniors taking a dip during finals when they’ve given up. 

You want to drown in it.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper. “What happens if one of us doesn't get in?”

“I–I don’t know.” He peers down at you with what you think is grief and the white noise that follows his quiet admission chokes painfully. There’s no plan B for something like this

If you got in, then Wonwoo did too. An unfounded assumption that wherever you went he’d be there too, based on almost four years of something between you. Too much to be friendship but too scared to call it something else. Something more. All the stereotypical college firsts had been with him or witnessed by him, you assumed grad school would be the same.

But it can’t be.

“Then we should end this.”

The words are out like shaken champagne, a dramatic explosion you can’t take back; a mess in the slimmest inches of space between your bodies on the bench in the freezing air.

“What?” he says.

You can’t swallow back down the idea. Wonwoo won’t let you. Maybe you don’t want to. You stare at the fountain across the green with a twitch in your jaw. 

“One of us is gonna move to Boston and the other is gonna have to figure it out and I’d rather not hate you or you hate me when it happens.”

You won’t take it back but you won’t look at him either. 

“You think I’d hate you?” 

He’s staring at you. You can feel the burn of his gaze on your cheek where embarrassment heats as well.

“I would.” You ignore the break in your voice at the complete lie. “I’d hate it if you got in and I didn’t. Even though you deserve it and I couldn’t be mad about it. I’d hate it. All I’ve wanted since freshman year is to go there, and I won’t ruin it for you just because I can’t have it.”

For a painstaking moment, he doesn’t say anything. His shoulders are still rigid and he props his weight into his knees, head bowed so you can’t even see his face in the stark street light. He doesn’t do anything until you do, until you slump with utter defeat.

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Your voice pinches in your throat.

“What else is there? You’ve already decided for the both of us. That stupid fucking program matters more to you than—”

You heat close to explosion.“It’s not stu—”

Wonwoo rushes off the bench. “It is! It is because we’ve been dating for the past three years but you won’t even fucking admit it! You’ll tell some stupid pledge I’m your boyfriend but everytime I think we’ve worked it out – that you’re finally ready to talk about it – you pretend nothing is happening.”

“That wasn’t—” you shake your head.

“It’s fine. I’ll get over it.” 

You move quicker than he does and find his hand, but he doesn’t want to stay and you can’t stop him from leaving. “Wonwoo.” 

“Stop.” His voice is stoic, whatever emotions previously controlling him locked up tight behind faux dismissal. “Just…stop.” 

If you’re going to lie then the smallest favor you can do is obey his command. You hide your face in your hands, cheeks hot and eyes stinging. Because if you look at him then you’ll break into a million pieces. You’d admit to lying to his face; that you could so much as entertain the idea of hating him.

Wonwoo waits but you say nothing. No argument, no final comment. 

When you finally look up he’s far enough down the sidewalk that the pathetic croak of his name is unheard.

Endpoint: a critical moment in a chemical process where a specific change indicates that the reaction is complete. 

Two days later, when you finally get the balls to call Wonwoo and apologize, to tell him he’s right and that you’re an absolute idiot, he’s already blocked your number.

In a game of passive aggressive pettiness, Wonwoo takes gold.

He won’t talk to you outside of class and lab hours. Even then, he refuses to look at you; talks straight around you. Any form of correspondence you receive has Dr. Wagner’s name attached and anything you send without it is loudly ignored. 

Other people notice too.

In study hours, the students notice, whisper to each other when Wonwoo snubs your attempt to discuss a batch of graded homework in favor of focusing his attention on a cowering freshman who looks like he might piss himself when Wonwoo calls him by name. All the others bury their heads in their textbooks in fear he’ll pick them next.

In Nano, when he shows up just in the nick of time to leave his self-assigned seat next to you empty, and instead sitting next to the door. You feel the eyes on you, hair standing on end at the back of your neck when Dr. Lim stutters through his intro with wide eyes at the scene.

Seungkwan shows up to tutoring significantly less interested in your love life. Or he pretends he isn’t. He doesn’t ask outright and there’s pity in his eyes, thick enough you want to burst into the tears you’ve waited to come for the past two weeks. Instead you feel hollow. 

Even Mr. Lee, the night guard at the library, eyes your solitary exit with something like concern. Even going so far as to call campus public safety to escort you the short walk home.

Your other friends try to take you out, get your mind off the tilt in your world axis. You go. Sit at bar tables and laugh when you're supposed to, make empty conversations with strangers but you don’t care. You want to go home and curl up in your own misery like a blanket and cry until your eyes swell shut and pass out from exhaustion. Eventually, they stop asking if you want to come and just leave ice cream and bottles of wine on your doormat as support.

Your grades don’t suffer, and that’s the only thing you can cling to right now.

In Dr. Wagner’s office, an impromptu meeting under the guise of setting final exam expectations and tinkering the schedule, Wonwoo continues the harsh coldness of silence; content to pretend you don’t even exist. 

You work through it easily enough. You and Wonwoo have the same finals so there's only two schedules (Dr. Wagner’s and your shared one) to coordinate for extra study hours. The entire ordeal takes ten minutes to complete the shared calendar, pack it full of final lab meetings and deadlines for grading.

And when it’s over, you move to rise but Dr. Wagner stops you short.

She looks sheepish which is an odd sight. Immediately, you go to the worst. You grit and swallow and sit back down in the same upholstered chair from the last time she dropped a bomb in your lap. 

This is the bandaid rip you’ve waited for all semester. Whatever is at the end of this meeting means you finally know if you’re good enough or not. If karma does justice and gives Wonwoo the spot in Dr. Collins lab next year because you committed the sin of wanting it too much, sacrificed too much.

“It seems my attempt at friendly competition had some…unintended consequences.”

Where sizzling anger would once flourish and bloom, nothing but empty exhaust stutters to life. “What?”

“Last year, the second my TAs found out I’d recommended them, they slacked off. Missing class, incorrect results in the lab. Now I know you two are hard workers but I was afraid senioritis might set in and I’d have to lay down the law. I don’t like being harsh with my students, not directly anyway. I want the best out of them, and I knew I could anticipate the best from you two. I was always planning to recommend both of you to Dr. Collins. I told him he would regret it if he even thought about not making space for you both next year.”

“What?” you repeat again.

There’s a weight on your knee. You don’t even need to look to know it’s Wonwoo’s hand. He doesn’t look before flipping it over when you place yours on top, fingers knotting together; holds it tight like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. You unconsciously squeeze and he mimics without thought.

“So what does this mean?”

“Dr. Collins can’t outright say it but he’s on the admissions board and decides who gets to join his lab. He was adamant that both of you join him in Boston.”

“But we haven’t even—”

“I know, but the application is a formality at this point.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Your work speaks for itself.”

Wonwoo is still there, clenching your hand for dear life. Waiting for the other shoe to drop because there is no way – no way – it’s this easy. Months at each other's throat from the tension and for nothing. You’re sweaty, heart thumping loud enough it might break from your chest and skitter on Dr. Wagner’s desk. She keeps talking and you still haven’t looked at Wonwoo.

“I’m so proud of you both!” she beams. “And I’m sorry if I’ve…complicated things…for the two of you. It was never my intention. Now, go! Rest! Take the day off and celebrate. Send me the links to your applications and I’ll do my part so you can finally relax before finals.”

The pair of you shuffle outside like zombies. In broad daylight, the world keeps spinning and someone drops their coffee a little further down the street and curses a storm; a car honks at a biker, there's packs of students shuffling around where you stand dumbfounded. Your sweater does little to block the chill of late November wind.

Wonwoo still hasn’t let go of your hand.

“Did that just happen?” he asks.

“What the fuck.”

“What the fuck.”

Your laughing, deranged and fatigued cackles that earn several looks but on the cusps of finals it’s not uncommon enough to stop anyone out of concern. “What the fuck!”

You’re not sure what to do. Celebrate? Cry? 

It’s a little bit of both as Wonwoo swoops in, wrapping his arms around you tight enough to squeeze a surprised scream from your lungs. He’s not done, lifting and spinning you around in a quick circle before crying, “What the fuck!”

You laugh, snorting ugly cackles as he almost drops you with both of you gasping for breath. Completely deranged but what just happened that the rift between you momentarily heals.

Wonwoo sets you down gently but keeps close, his hands your waist like he’s afraid to let go. Like he’s missed you just as much as you’ve missed him. You finally look at him, and it’s the first breath of air after drowning for hours. The creases around his eye, the happy wrinkles around his nose. His hair is long enough it brushes your skin where your foreheads almost touch. His hold is like a cocoon of warmth.

“I’m sorry!” you blurt. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m stupid and stubborn and I’ve been so caught up in this program that I—”

“No,” he shakes his head, arms tightening as you squirm in his hold.

“Let me finish.”

“No,” he says. “I like that you're stubborn and a pain in the ass. And it wasn’t fair that I expected you to just push aside something like grad school for me. I was being selfish and—”

“I love you.”

You might say it again just to see the way he chokes and turns purple; pulls you closer. He’s at a loss for words and you capitalize on the moment.

“I’ve thought about what would happen if I didn’t get in, like a million different possibilities and never once were you not there. I felt like…I don’t know, honestly. Like I was losing you and it was easier to be upset about the program than admit that. It was stupid and I’m stupid, and I’m really bad at speeches so…feel free to shut me up or whatever.”

You wait for him to process what you’ve said – a million emotions swiping across his face. Ridiculous some people act like he’s the embodiment of stoicism because if you know what to look for then they’d realize he’s terrible at hiding the way he feels.

“You love me?”

All that crying you did in the past few weeks means nothing because you could cry right now. But you don’t look away, you don’t ever want to look away from him again because you’d miss the way his face softens.

“Well, we’ve been dating for the past three years. It’s about time I told you.”

Wonwoo doesn’t speak, facing morphing into confusion before he scoffs with disbelief. “You’re so annoying.”

“Hey!” you stomp but Wonwoo pulls you closer, buries his face in your neck and squeezes so tight something feels on the verge of popping in your spine. His ears burn red as he whispers those three words back quietly enough you strain to hear them. He bites your shoulder just to be an asshole.

“What the hell was that for?” 

He does it again.

“Stop biting me you freak, we’re in public.” You pinch his side for good measure and only then does he smash the side of his face to yours and begin walking you backwards, in the direction of your apartment.

“Whatever, you love me.”

He lets you walk normally at the cross walk, your hand in his, both tangled in the warmth of the pocket of his sweatshirt because it’s fucking cold and the wind isn’t helping. Wonwoo drags you straight home, up the stairs, and crowds you against the door and kisses you until you can’t breathe.

“Why are you crying?”

You are. You don’t even realize it had started until you reach up and feel the dampness on your cheeks.

“Probably because I haven’t slept in two days and I missed you, idiot.” Wonwoo kisses you flat on the mouth again at the confession, smiling big enough it’s less of a kiss and more of teeth pressed together. But it’s good. You like it. You speak into his mouth, “I promise I would have really ‘sloppy I love you sex’ but I’m so tired I think I might throw up.”

“You missed me.” he hums, more of a statement than a question.

“Yeah, big head, I missed you. Now let’s sleep.”

“God,” he moans, biting his lip in mock pleasure. Maybe even real pleasure at the idea of a Friday afternoon full of nothing but hazy dreams in silence rarely found in a frat house. “I love you too.”

You undress straight down to your underwear. Cotton with a conservative cut because in no universe did you think you’d end the day with Wonwoo back in your orbit. Wonwoo who loves you, Wonwoo who you love back. But he eyes you like you’re a grand prize and all he wants is to touch you. But the rush of adrenaline keeping you conscious is burning out quickly.

He strips too, nothing but boxers and circles under his eyes but he’s happy. It radiates off him in waves and if you weren’t part of it, you’d throw something at him because it’d be annoying. You might just be glowing too.

You slip under the covers and Wonwoo snuggles up behind you, a second skin with his hand flat to your stomach to keep you from going anywhere. Not that you would. You don’t even remember falling asleep. 

When you wake up, it’s dark outside; which could mean it’s been minutes or hours since the winter sun likes to deep beneath the horizon early in the afternoon. It’s the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

Everything is warm; your body beneath the comforter, where sweat sticks at your back, the lips dragging across the curve of your neck, Wonwoo’s crotch firm between your legs.

“Good morning to me,” you sigh.

He hums in happy agreement, tongue traces the shell of your ear before kissing across your cheek and chin and finally landing on your mouth with a kiss that can only be described as sappy.

“Got started without me?” Your hands press under his underwear, two palms full of his ass holding him still enough to grind up into. Something about a sleepy make out has you hungry to lay there and take whatever he’ll offer.

“I’ll catch you up, don’t worry.” 

You snicker, “No wonder those freshmen have crushes on you.”

“What do you mean?” He traces your naked sides with his fingers.

“I’ll catch you up,” you mock, then wince from a razor of his teeth as he shifts down your chest. “If you were my TA, I’d try to fuck you.”

“I’m trying to have’ sloppy I love you sex’ and you’re trying to goad me into some student teacher shit?”

He bites your side, just a nip but you flare and blush anyway. “Ooooo, tell me I’m bad.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You love me.”

“As I was saying,” he whispers into your stomach, fingers tugging your panties off. “Sloppy I love you sex.”

“Okay, okay.” You sink a hand in his hair only for him to tug it away, fingers laced together over your sternum as he strokes you to life. “O-oh, that’s—fuck.”

He hikes a leg up over his shoulder, out of the way for the fingers that satisfy the empty squeeze in your gut. Your tongue prickles with another goad but Wonwoo senses it first and swiftly works to silence you with a hot kiss to your clit that makes your vision bleed red.

The cold of the room works in his favor, pinching your nipples tight until you cave to the need to touch yourself. If the light was on then he’d watch and you get the urge to pause the action just for the chance to watch him watch you.

“Don’t stop,” you grunt. 

He eats it filthy, spit and arousal forming a wet mess slipping down your ass. The way his tongue lashes is nothing short of despicable and you know you’re the one that taught him that and you can’t help but flare with pride. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m—” you chant blindly.

The warmth between your legs surrounds, suffocates until your thighs go numb and your shoulders pull away from the mattress with a groan rivaling porn; but you mean it. Wonwoo means it too. 

You clench harder, revitalized in the stretch of another finger and a clip of teeth on your clit.  You tug at your still clasped hands on your chest, bite into the meat of his palm and let the flood consume you with stiff legs and tears in your eyes. “Oh, Wonwoo – u-ugh. Fuck. Fuck.”

Wonwoo takes it, mouth waiting for every eager roll of your hips; completely unphased until you melt back in the sheets with a pathetic mewl.

He kisses up your body, mouth and cheeks wet and warm. When he reaches your mouth you resist the urge to lick him clean. Something about that feels decidedly unlike sloppy I love you sex. So you slip your tongue between his lips instead and spread your legs until his crotch is level with the raw sensitivity of your own.

“Roll over,” you pant.

Like an asshole, he laughs. And then he drops his weight behind his hips and you actually see stars. “Wanna do it like this.”

“Make love to me,” you croon.

He doesn’t even pretend to stifle the obnoxious snort. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“What happened to sloppy I love you sex?” 

“Getting to it. You like it when I come inside you?” Now he’s the one goading and you’re blushing like you’ve never fucked him before. To be fair, you haven’t fucked him as the man you’re in love with so it’s a first time for the both of you. Wonwoo’s drunk on the power of having you stutter through something so familiar yet new.

“Love it.” 

“Good,” he agrees with a saccharine peck to your nose that makes you feel like a doe eyed virgin again. “I love you.”

Your need for games and pretense dissolves. You just want Wonwoo, all of him, until you can’t take it any more. 

Wonwoo senses the change, noses against your cheek before kissing you. He’s still holding your hand, the other cupping your jaw, thumb tracing the curve of flesh. It’s vulnerable and soft and something you probably could’ve experienced years ago if you weren’t willfully blind.

“I love you, too.”

You whisper the confession so quietly it doesn’t even make a sound but Wonwoo figures it out because he surges into action, pulling you to the center of the mattress in all your naked glory. The flood light from the side of the building reflects back in through the slats in the blinds and Wonwoo sits up to soak in what he can see in the limited light.

Twisting a hand in his hair, you pull him down for a kiss; forcing all the emotions you have to the surface. He doesn’t make you wait. Instead, he drops flat, flat together from head to toe as he slips inside. You’re still tight and sensitive, squirming at the feeling of being stretched so thin with Wonwoo wrapped tight in your arms.

“W-wonwoo,” you mewl. You know he loves the sound of his name, any time, in desperate moans and sleepy coos. You’ll say it as much as he wants to hear if he kisses you like he is now – with something new at the edge. Something needy. “More.”

He wraps your legs around his hips, folding you clean in half with a heavy rut into your pussy you’ll feel for days. You both want to drag this out – take hours to come apart and come together again and again – but Wonwoo is already working a hand between your bodies; stroking you over hot coals just to hear you moan his name again.

In record speed, you feel that familiar burn creeping along your spine. He fucks you into a wet mess and it’s all you can do to hold on and claw up his back. Breaks you into something limp and pliant, hands twisted together over head; tugs at that loose thread over and over until you unravel beneath him and Wonwoo watches like it’s magic.

“Oh- oh, Wonwoo–” you cry. Actually cry. Tears he swipes away with a thumb before pressing his mouth to yours.

You’re swollen and stiff, muscles taunt while they twitch from a rush of complete bliss.

“M cumming, baby – oh my god.” Wonwoo bucks into the tight squeeze of your legs, deeper, harder, more. “Love you—fuck.”

He hides with soft sighs in your neck, skin sticky where you both slide together. You cradle him to your chest, fingers rushing through the sweaty tangles on his hair gently. A kiss to his head, his brow, his nose that wrinkles from pure content.

But you’re not done yet.

You wiggle from beneath him, peeling yourself off the pillows, lower half still numb from one hell of an orgasm. But you want more, insatiable and doped on years of repressed fondness. “Can you go again?” 

Wonwoo looks like you asked him to run a marathon. “You want me to die?”

“Worse ways to go,” you coo, sinking low enough to take his cock in your mouth. It tastes like you and him and it makes your eyes roll.

“God. I didn’t know sappy sex meant you’d try to kill me,” he moans airly under your ministrations, a hand at the back of your head when you show off with a nose to his crotch before sliding off. “You’re evil.”

“I’m in love with a sexy nerd and I'm horny,” you sigh dreamily, thrilled with the way he pulses in your hold.

“Yeah, well…” he gives up on whatever rebuttal under the weight of your body on top of his. Nothing he can argue with in that statement anyway so you tease him with a kiss, smile when he chases your mouth, roll when you realize he can taste the mix of you both off your tongue.

“You know…I’ll need a roommate in Boston.”

“Huh,” Wonwoo feigns. His focus is on the way your tug at his cock, spit and cum webbed between your fingers. This isn’t the best way to have this conversation but you’re both high on sleep deprivation, love, and orgasms and it encourages loose lips.

“Know anyone interested?”

He shudders back into the pillow, leaving his neck open for your teeth with a choked, “Yeah.”

“Who?”

“Me.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah —fuck—wanna wake up to you every morning.”

“Even if I’m a cranky bitch?” Your knees bracket his hips, cunt split on his cock as you grind against the underside.

His stomach caves as he responds with a thin voice, “yeah.”

You like waking up to him too. Falling asleep with him tangled in your body, listening to him hum in the shower when he thinks you aren’t listening. Sometimes he even sings with a little encouragement like those times you were sick and the only thing that got your mind from exploding like thunderclaps was the lullabies from his childhood that he cooed into your hairline.

Starting and ending everyday with Wonwoo sounds nothing short of blissful.

“Okay.” You tangle his fingers with your own, rising on your knees to distract from the sheepish smile splitting your face in two.

“Really?”

“I like having you around,” you admit, sinking down on his cock. “Makes me feel better.”

Weird conversation over the back track of slapping skin and pathetic muffled sobs but you like it. Feels well overdue.

“A-about?”

Everything.

He gives a tender squeeze to your thigh, cradles your face in both hands, eye contact that you fight not shutter away from because it’s terrifying he can see you clearly. 

He’s lost; completely mesmerized by the way you bounce on the length of him, grind back into his lap like you’re possessed.

“Can’t last—” he chokes.

“S’okay,” you press the words into his cheek, his jaw, the bones jutting from around his collar. “Just wanna feel you.”

You bend and strain for his pleasure, to watch it dance across his brow as he cums inside you again, his hands heavy on your ass, your thighs, whatever he reflexively grips in a bid for grounding, nails leaving streaks of color. Twitching and jerking in sensitive painful bliss, his eyes roll back with a quick exhale. “Fuck-k.”

You're sticky and used between the legs but you take comfort in the feeling and bask in the glow on top of him. Nothing but a pile of satisfied boneless goo where you lay with sweaty skin and heat you feel from the top of your head to your toes. “Good?”

“Great,” he hums, pulling into one last toe numbing kiss. 

When feeling returns to your bodies, you spend the rest of the night eating greasy pizza on the couch in nothing but his shirt, drinking wine straight from the bottle in celebration. You kiss Wonwoo whenever you want, which, admittedly, is a lot; a flurry of sappy pecks over his face leaves him blushing and dewy. When you fall asleep after making love once again, the last thing you hear is him saying he loves you too.

Epilogue

4 months later…

There’s a certain level of comfort that comes with receiving an official acceptance email. The words you’ve been waiting to hear since Dr. Wagner all but confirmed your future in a fifteen minute meeting last semester.

On behalf of the Chemistry department, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as a part of…

The big envelope in the mail today helped too.

Wonwoo sends a photo of his, unopened, because you promised to open them together tonight. On your date; which is nothing more than grading assignments and eating leftover take out on the couch like so many nights have been spent already. But this time he’s your boyfriend. And after all the worksheets are graded, and you get to cuddle deep into the worn couch cushions, you get to tell him you love him and he’ll say it back and the flutter in your veins at the thought is nothing short of magical. 

And this time you have a surprise waiting for him and he might just cry. Or you hope so. You’ve got $50 riding on the possibility.

You’re sweating through your shirt from putting the new piece of furniture together for the past three hours by the time he shows up with a bag of takeout, Thai food from the place on Market where they know you by order, and a kiss you’ve been missing since the morning when he left for one of his stupid workouts. 

Wonwoo sets the bag on the counter, immediately pulling you into his arms before sagging like a deflated balloon. “Pixel got adopted today.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He’s moping. He accepts your placating kiss with a pout, and starts unpacking the food.

You feel the smallest flutter of guilt but it's worth it.  “That sucks.” 

“She needed a good home.” Wonwoo confirms and that's the end of the conversation.

Even in your final semester, your schedules are still packed. Crammed full with meetings, exams, work, Wonwoo’s volleyball stuff that you attend with posters and sit near the other girlfriends. It’s weird but not because its the same stuff you two were doing for years. But it’s exhausting.

So you don’t blame Wonwoo for not noticing the newest addition to your apartment until he’s inhaled his food and the last third of yours.

“Babe.”

“What?” you ask, focusing on cutting another red slash into the white paper.

“What’s that?”

He points at the gigantic cat tower in the corner next to the couch. It’s cramped in tight but in two months you’ll both be in Boston with a bigger apartment with real bedrooms so it’s only temporary.

You shrug and make another mark. “Oh, just something I picked up.”

“You don’t have a cat.”

“Huh. Weird.” Your eyebrows furrow in mock confusion but you keep grading papers or else it’s game over and the need to watch him puzzle together your plans is all you want. “Then what’s the thing in the bathroom?”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” you confirm.

Wonwoo stares open mouthed, between you and the bathroom door and back to you. He might pinch himself but he flies off the couch with childlike eagerness and your face hurts from smiling already.

Pixel spends the rest of the night curled up asleep on her new dad’s lap and you’re $50 richer. Mingyu’s girlfriend is already offering to catsit despite Mingyu’s pouts about losing money.

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

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

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts

@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially

@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

@lukeys-giggle @aaa-sia @tinkerbell460

[kimhargreeves]

A Flashy Act part 2-Buggy x Reader (smut)

Summary: Buggy has decided to question you behind curtains in his private room, which leads you both to share an intimate moment together.

(A/N: The people have spoken and I delivered!! Enjoy this spicy Buggy smut for all you weird clown fuckers like myself. Special thanks to everyone who liked my post! I didn't expect it to become popular in just a day. Anyone enjoy cause this is nasty..or spicy however you want to look at it. A part 3 may be done once I finish the show since I'm on ep 3.)

(Tag list: @pookiesnatcher @alejandro0-0 @ghostlycrystobalove @lenu-i

"Luffy!"

"Don't worry, I got this!" Luffy shouted when Buggy had grabbed me and began to pull me away from the stage, where Luffy was now held. This fucking clown, I swear if he harms that boy. I frowned when the clown began to now pulling me away.

"Quit giving me such a hard time!"

"Hey! What do you think you're doing pulling me into this room-" I was immediately quiet when Buggy grabbed my shoulders dipped me a bit and he unexpectedly began to kiss me.

I started back at him surprised as he lifted me back up on my feet. The first thing I did was slap his across the face and I hid my face.

"I-I'm so sorry! What..why did you-"

Buggy began to chuckle to himself as he held onto the spot I had hit him. His lipstick was smeared around his lips, and it was a bit hard ti tell if I let a mark on his face.

"You're still annoying and hard to please. You haven't changed quite much, (Y/N). Now..Where is my map?!"

I furrowed my eyebrows and leaned closer to look at him. All of the sudden Buggy took a step back and froze.

"Buggy…sorry I don't know what you mean-"

"Ugh I knew it! That damn Shanks probably told you to forget about me. He always does things like this."

I crossed my arms over my chest and tilted my head. "Shanks you know him?! Wait…" I thought hard and suddenly remembered a certain memory of myself, Shanks and Buggy.

"Now I remember! You took a few punches once when-"

"When a guy threatened to toss you out into the sea." Buggy ended my sentence and sighed.

I started up at the clown and wondered how I had forgotten about him. "We used to hang out didn't we? The three of us."

"Yeah until I was left alone! Shanks returned one day without you, saying how he wanted you to have s nice and decent life, not a pirates one which I thought was bullshit."

"Language." I warn and smirked afterwards.

Buggy sighed and now looked at me up and down. "You really grew up, (Y/N)."

"Flashily I suppose?" I said giving a twirl and giving a wink. "But seriously, did you kidnap us just so you can have the map?"

"That map belongs to me! Not to some prepubescent boy who doesn't know what it's like to be a pirate. Why are you with him anyways?" He asked leaning his back onto the wall and crossing his arms.

"I made a promise to my brother, Shanks. That I would look after him."

"So you're a babysitter then? That's great." Buggy rolled his eyes as he said that and started to take his gloves off. "Really suits your character." He laughed.

I squinted my eyes at him and looked at him from head to know. "Never thought you would go with the whole creepy clown look. You look like you would eat children." I joke.

"I eat others things… I let the whole raw meat thing to my buddy you met back on stage."

Great. So not only are they all supposed to be freaks, but he has a cannibal among them. What else has he been up to for these last couple of years?

"Gross. How many times have you taken advantage of some poor girl..or boy."

"Don't be ridiculous. I would never take advantage of someone if they were against it. And those who accept?"

"Well, let's say we have a pretty good time." He grinned pulling himself back up straight and seeing me fake throwing up.

"Ew.. I did not need that image in my head."

"Don't tell me you're still a virgin! Someone like you? Traveling the sea?!"

I looked around at where he had taken me. Making sure to look well even if it was kinda dark, only a few candles here and there with a vanity mirror and a few makeup scattered around, a small bed with the same lights messily clinging above the room.

"Where's Luffy?"

"Now you're avoiding the question!"

"Just tell me where he is with his ginger girl and broccoli guy!" I said trying me my best to not seem nervous, but really wanting to know if they were safe.

"I'll gladly tell you, once you tell where my map is!" He shouted and seemed to quickly compose himself and curse under his breath.

Buggy dramatically sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed. "Rubber boy is fine, he's entertaining my guests. Other two are with Cabaji."

My eyes looked back at the entrance and worried about the people being held hostage, I even spotted a poor dog with an older man, probably the owner saving the last thing he has, "What about the people?"

"What people?"

"The towns people, you idiot. You have to let them go." I said hoping he'd listen.

Buggy jumped up and began to laugh. "Sure! I'll do it right now, wanna help me?"

I frowned looking at him and was thinking if there's some way I can somehow release some of them. I really need Luffy's help…I decided to be straight and harsh with him.

"No matter how many people you hold captive. You'll never make people love you."

I felt a bit intimidated by his stare when Buggy took steps closer to me and cornered me against the vanity mirror. I looked to the side and felt his stare on me.

"Don't think you'll get a pass out of this, sweetheart. You're doing this so I can let your little friends go." Buggy lowly spoke as he took his ungloved hands and wrapped one around my neck.

"You seriously think that I would take advantage of you?" I question looking back up at him and saw a cold stare on his face.

"I think you're the one wanting to take advantage of me. You want to know where the map is. Well, I won't tell you, because I don't know. Thanks to your bombs I collapsed before I got the chance to see where or who got it."

"And why should I trust you? We don't know each other well." He sang being sarcastic as ever.

"You like playing games don't you? Maybe I can show you that I am telling the truth." I said and smiled.

Buggy frowned and gave me a harsh stare. I reached my hand down to his pants beginning to unbutton the first few buttons. His breathing hitched and I could feel him freeze when I touched him.

"It's been years since I saw you. We were kids..I'm sorry I forgot about you. Shanks only wanted what was best for me-"

Buggy instantly grabbed my wrists making me stop and look back at him when with his other hand he grabbed my face.

"Shanks being selfish as ever. Did he ever wonder what was best for me? He's taken everything from me, and now I have you back." He grinned and now grabbed the back of my head.

He placed his hand under my chin and I could see his blue pupils darken. I closed my eyes when Buggy leaned down to kiss me again. I felt him move my hair aside and leaving quick kisses down my neck and collarbone.

I gripped onto his shirt tight and began to kiss his lips again, ignoring how I would end up stained in his makeup. Quickly it began to deepen with me slipping out a moan when I felt his hands on my stomach and felt his pants getting tighter.

I moaned into the kiss when I felt him begin to get rid of my upper half clothes and began to palm my chest. Buggy's kisses began to lower until he reached down my breasts while his other hand played with my other one. While he was busy I started to reach my hand down to his pants beginning to unbutton the first few buttons. His breathing hitched and I could feel him freeze when I touched him.

"It's been years since I saw you. We were kids..I'm sorry I forgot about you. Shanks only wanted what was best for me-"

Buggy instantly grabbed my wrists making me stop and look back at him when with his other hand he grabbed my face.

"Shanks was being selfish as ever. Did he ever wonder what was best for me? He's taken everything from me, and now I have you back." He grinned and now grabbed the back of my head.

He smiled as he placed his hand under my chin and I could see his blue pupils darken. I shivered when I felt his hands beginning to move lower into my pants, until his fingers started to tease my nub.

My breathing hitched and a moaned almost escaped from my mouth, quickly I covered my mouth which made it seem like it was irritating Buggy. With my mouth still covered I saw him beginning to lower himself down on his knees. Quickly he got rid of my pants quick and slowly pulled down my underwear.

I've never been this exposed to someone. I began to cover myself but Buggy held my hands back and he began to leave a few bits down along my thighs until I saw him begin to part my legs. I leaned my back against the vanity mirror making all the things that were on it fall to the ground.

"You are so beautiful, (Y/N)." I heard Buggy say when he saw me naked before him.

Buggy began to lick his smudged lips and I gasped when he grabbed my thigh and placed it on his shoulder. I threw my head back when I saw stick his tongue out and gave a slow and long lick to my entrance, he followed it with another lick until Buggy was swirling his tongue. I loud moan escaped from mouth when I couldn't hold it it anymore.

His nose would occasionally brush against my clit, causing my body to twitch and strain against him. Buggy's other hand continued to thrust his fingers inside me while he pressed his thumb against my nub. "Buggy..” I moaned lowly. My hand continuing to grab his hair tugging at it slightly, causing him to growl right into my cunt again. "I'm gonna-" I squeezed my eyes shut when he thrusted his fingers faster for me to come.

I began to buck my hips forward and continued to tug onto his blue hair which has been tied up. I squeezed my eyes tights and cried out in pleasure when I felt something build inside of me, and when I finally came, I felt my legs about to give out.

Buggy quickly wiped his messy face and quickly stood up and held me close to him. Holding me so I wouldn't fall.

"Not so fast, sweetheart. It's my turn." I was still coming back to reality when Buggy pushed me down on my knees and I was met with his long and big- "There's no way its gonna fit." I thought looking at him.

"Why don't you use your pretty mouth, (Y/N)?" Buggy hummed slipping his thumb into my mouth before pulling it away. I looked down at him and my entire face got red seeing him completely undressed now. What would people say if they saw me about to fuck a clown.

Suddenly I began to feel nervous as I watched him begin to stroke himself a bit until he began to guide his member closer to my mouth, his other hand running through my hair lovingly.

I did what I suppose I am to do, I opened my mouth sticking my tongue out. Buggy wasted no time and he began to gently fuck my mouth. I hummed when I tasted him and heard him groan above me as I took in more of him and took him out with a pop.

I reached my hands out to pump the rest that couldn't fit in when I took him back again and began to gag when he began to fuck my mouth faster. Buggy gripped my head tight and suddenly pulled be back leaving a string of saliva connected to him. I shrieked when he suddenly began to carry me onto the bed.behind him.

Buggy quickly getting rid of his remaining clothes and grabbed my ankles to part my legs when he got on top of me, his hands gripped my hips as he guided his dick between my folds. I shivered when I felt him toying with me and kept on teasing me before he grabbed himself again and began to slide in.

Both of us moaned when he slid deep inside of me. Buggy cursed a few words and he stayed still for a minute, before he began to thrust into me at a rough pace. He slid deep in me with ease as my juices coated his cock. I moaned out and looked to the side feeling shy again, my breasts bouncing with every hard thrust he did as I felt his fingers rubbing my clit harshly.

Again I felt that familiar sensation returning I clenched around his cock as I interlaced my fingers with Buggy when I felt that snap again and my vision got blurry for a second. I began to feel overstimulation when his hands buried into my hair again until one of his hands reached down my neck. His pace became even rougher and faster, making me come closer to my climax again

"B-Buggy!"

I began to cry when he learned down to whisper dirty things into my ear, his playful self no longer present in the room. Tears streamed down my cheeks as he continued to fuck me. Buggy reached down to rub my clit harshly, making me come again and stain the sheets beneath us. And just when I thought we were done, Buggy flipped me so my stomach would be facing the bed and my back facing him.

Another moan escaped from me when I felt a harsh smack against my ass and felt his hands grab my ass and stretching me to take him in better. At this angle I could feel him closer.

I shut to eyes shut and continued to moan and cry every time he would thrust into me. I bit my lips tight as I felt his harsh thrust inside of me. I reached down myself and stated to circle my finger over my clit, the friction along with this man's rough thrusts making my mind go blank as I rested the side of my face onto the bed.

"Buggy..I-I'm.." I cried out when I felt Buggy holding onto my hips tighter pulling me back against him.

I heard Buggy softly laughing as he watched the faces and moans I made. One last moan and cry came out of me when I came hard. I still felt extremely sensitive when I felt Buggy holding onto me tight until we both gasped, I grasped onto the sheets when I felt forward a bit and felt him getting closer

Buggy gripped onto me tight and moaned close to my ear when he came inside of me. I fell forward and began to shake at what happened. Slowly, Buggy pulled himself out.

I got myself comfortable laying on my side and felt something still slowly dripping out of me. I was too tired to speak or to even look back at the blue haired clown.

Last thing I felt was Buggy rubbing my hips and planting a kiss a quick kiss on my head before I watched him leave the bed. Too tired to question anything, I decided to shut my eyes for a quick nap and felt something warm being placed on top of me.

"(Y/N)! You're safe..where the heck where you?!" Luffy questioned seeing my tired face. "Where you kept locked up? Buggy didn't hurt you did he?!" Luffy grabbed my shoulders and began to shake me.

"Luffy! Now's not the time!" I said not wanting anyone to touch me at how sore I felt. I looked at the young boy and smiled, "…I-I'm fine. None of you got hurt?" I asked genuinely concerned for them.

Though I have no idea what had happened since I had blacked out. I only remember falling asleep and well, waking up alone and pulling away from some curtains and making my way outside of the huge tent. That bastard clown. How dare he leave me.

Everyone of the towns people were set free and thanking Luffy for his help. Everyone genuinely seemed happy and very grateful. That way they know that not every pirates are bad.

"Nothing we couldn't handle." Zoro calmly replied walking past me.

"Kicking the clowns ass was fun. You should've seen it." Nami told me after.

They defeated him then? I sigh and smiled looking at Luffy and pulled his straw hat down and chuckled. There's no way he can't know what happened between that clown and I. That fucking clown will pay if I were to see him again.

I looked over at my friend and smiled at him. "You did great Luffy."

I followed Luffy to the ship and saw him waving at everyone where the ship began to sail. We all got busy and I sat down rethinking what the hell I did back there.

Luffy came over and smiled sitting next to me. "Are you sure you're fine? I swear I heard you crying."

My blood ran cold and I grew pale. I noticed Luffy's worried look and he quickly placed his hand over my forehead.

"Are you sick? Don't tell me you're getting sea sick all of the sudden."

"…Nope. I'm sorry I shouldn't worry you. Nothing happened." I lie straight at his innocent face.

The boy smiled and nodded his head. "If you say so! Let me know if you feel any better."

I nodded my head and saw Luffy run over to the front of the boat. I turned around and spotted Nami and Zoro shaking their heads at me.

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

Rating asoiaf characters based on how likely they are to use pocket sand:

Jon Snow - my hot take is that people are very delusional and wrong about Jon. It’s not that he’s too “honorable” or “good” to use pocket sand in a fight coz he’s definitely not above using dirty tricks. But you gotta ask, which Jon is it? Agot-acok!Jon is def not using pocket sand because he thinks it’s dishonorable and a coward’s weapon. Asos!Jon is 8/10 gonna use pocket sand because fuq honor. Adwd and beyond!Jon is 0/10….he’s got something far more devious in his pockets - broken shards of glass.

Dany - yeah she’s using it, 7/10. She’s a smart girl. Like her actions in Astapor and Meereen show that she’s not above using dirty tricks to get ahead. Now how much pocket sand is she willing to use and against who? That’s the question…I can see her hesitating if her opponent is a small child.

Arya - for sure using pocket sand 10/10. There’s no denying it. She’s actually studied which types of sand are the best suited for different situations. But she’s quick enough that people don’t know what happened until she’s far away.

Bran - he doesn’t even know what pocket sand is so 0/10

Sansa - she knows what pocket sand is but she’s usually not willing to use it because it gets her clothes and hands dirty. If she’s really pushed…maybe? 2/10 but she’d gladly watch someone else do it

Robb - oh 20/10 using it no doubt. He’s been pushing Jon to get on the pocket sand trend for years to no avail

Theon - went with Robb to the pocket sand factory for a boys’ date out. 20/10 using it and with RELISH

Ned Stark - knows what pocket sand is, is unwilling to use it himself, but will turn the other way when he sees his buddy whip it out 0/10

Cat - yeah she’s using it, I’m not willing to debate over this 10/10

Davos - um yeah 10/10 using it….look sometimes you have to use all the tools available to you to survive

Jaime - trick question because which Jaime? Pre-hand chop Jaime? Won’t use it on principle. It’s cowardly and stupid. Post-hand chop Jaime? Yeah….he’s using it because he has to so 8/10

Brienne - look she doesn’t want to use it, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do 6/10

Pod - *confused* “why would anyone carry sand in their pockets to a fight?” 0/10

Howland Reed - was actually the one who invented the best sand for it and is mass producing it. Probably used it to defeat Arthur Dayne 100/10

Meera - come on, she’s swamp person and howland’s kid so 20/10 using pocket sand

Bronn - involved in an MLM to sell pocket sand 100/10

Tyrion - the one who founded the MLM and recruited Bronn so 200/10

[wonyscafe]

astro appreciation

⋆ ˚｡ ୨୧

☆ my undying love for virgo moons is so intense, you guys are such good listeners and have the perfect advice... you're also so freaking talented!!

★ I once dated a 0 degree aries venus and yes it was short but I have never felt more loved than those 2 months

☆ you gemini placements especially gemini suns always know how to make people connect w each other without even trying too hard, it just happens

★ I'd like to make a quick moment to appreciate all the aquarius moons out there, I've noticed how you can make anyone laugh even during the hardest times

☆ also omg leo risings!! you hype people up and I love u for it!!

★ to all the 12H people out there: your questions are not weird or strange. they're interesting and original. don't let others stop you from asking intriguing questions

☆ also aquarius suns have so much rizz and y'all don't even notice it

★ I will never get tired of listening to a fire/9H mercury. you speak with so much passion about certain topics

☆ all the people I know who have libra sun/moon are so trustworthy during fights. like they will not break your trust, and if they are, they'll 100% receive their karma for it. and they know this. and they're smart so chances are very high that they'll be trustworthy

★ IDC WHAT ANYONE SAYS BUT GOSSIPING W GEMINI VENUS IS SO FUN BRO WHAT

☆ if you ever see someone w pisces placements, don't look into their eyes. you'll literally get lost in them.

★ every single taurus I know is so cozy, like they will legit treat you like a royal if you set foot into their house I'm so serious

☆ the people who have the best rational advice in my opinion, are capricorn mercuries. they come off as an authority figure but I really like that energy. they're just really wise idrk how to explain it...

★ if you have scorpio placements you deal with jealousy SO MUCH bc you're literally so attractive. like the energy you radiate intimidates others in a way that they get jealous of you

☆ I'm telling you sags are the best travel buddies EVERRR me and my sag friends go to different countries or cities everytime we hangout and it's so much fun like???

★ ok but cancer moons. like that's it that's everything THEYRE everything.

☆ something ab 10H placements and being the literal human embodiment of the devil wears prada

★ ok biased but virgo placements >>> something ab them is just so hot like

↳ a/n : I'm definitely not done yet bc MAN I LOVE SO MANY PLACEMENTS!!! but now your girl has to study for her ecology, biology and chemistry exams </3 wish me luck y'all I'm ALMOST DONE!!! have a wonderful day or night 𖹭

[subizer0]

can this arcane/league of legends character be trusted with your drink at a party?

caitlyn (8/10)

attended to house parties her whole life (probably not voluntarily) and kept a lot of peoples drinks safe. she tends to stay away from the party so a very solid option if you need a quick toilet break. will only let go of it in emergencies but makes sure to buy you a drink as an apology.

vi (4/10)

might take a sip if the beverage is up her alley. can and will judge you based on your drink of choice. doesn't let go of the drink in any cases but anybody could spike the drink and homegirl wouldn't realize it. (makes sure they memorize her fist print is she does though)

jinx (0)

you wake up in a cold bath with empty ice bags on the ground. the side of your body feels super warm. you got the jinxed ending. have fun living without a liver.

ekko (7/10)

he dances while holding the cup 🥺🥺 will definietly ask if he can take a sip regardless of what the drink is. slightly pouts upon hearing no but won't force you to elaborate on it. drama queen, will close the cup with his palms if he hears you approaching

"my bad, thought you were coming for my buddies drink there"

heimerdinger (7/10)

will try his best to protect your drink. holds it with both of his hands. realistically, somebody could just swoop in and take it from his grasp but otherwise, another solid choice.

viktor (4/10)

why must you do this to him??? nervous that a half empty drink in hand might be an excuse for other people to speak to him. just stands there, you find him in the exact position as you left him. there's a big chance he might just leave it there if the party gets too intense.

mel (10/10)

super natural and professional about it. will sip only a little to make sure she leaves her lipstick mark on it. sways the glass slowly while gracefully holding a conversation.

jayce (8/10)

he's excited🥺🥺 holds it like a trophy. he fights for a safe drink, he'll die for a safe drink. might get bored if you take too long and theres a slight chance that he WILL judge you for your drinking choices.

singed (no)

no

silco (5/10)

if he likes you, he'll death stare anyone that gets close to the drink in question. if he doesn't, the houseplants will be seeing some action.

"hey silco can you hold this for a minute?"

"of course, love."

"cut the cameras"

sevika(6/10)

she also drinks without asking, not because she likes it but just to see you flustered. other than that, people could "joke" about grabbing the cup and they would be catching these blades.

aphelios (10/10)

he's a soldier with a mission. cup locked in sight, just silently stares at it until you come back. gets praised by his sister for being such a responsible friend.

kayn (7/10???)

actually very happy to hold it for you. might think of you as a stupid cunt if he sees you drinking embarrassing stuff but this is a very good opportunity to shut people up.

"oh sorry, kind of busy here you see. i'm keeping an eye on this one. have a good time" *bends down to rhaast's level* "kill this bitch right now."

aatrox (??/10)

YES HUMAN!! FINALLY YOU UNDERSTAND THE TRUE PURPOSE OF BEING A DEATH BLADE. ofc he will keep you tiny cup safe wdym *gets fucking split in half*

sett (10/10)

surprisingly (or not) responsible. he will cross his arms on his chest but hold onto the cup firmly. he's making his momma proud, no screwing around on his watch.

akali (6/10)

sure bestie, doesn't actually mind it. the only problem is, she also probably doesn't care if you're not very important to her. makes sure that the drink is safe from other substances but leaves it on the counter if she sees you approaching.

jhin (no)

art, shall blossom from the absence of your wit and self-awareness. what were you thinking :D?

vander (10/10)

another professional. definitely knows what an angelshot is and definitely slapped a bitch in a blue t-shirt before. tired and unamused dad keeping the cup safe, that's it this is the motto.

graves (???)

you get the goody aaah ending. he drank the spiked drink that he was supposed to protect, good job! twisted fate was there to witness everything and he did nothing to interfere just for the fun of it :)

[otomiyaa]

Catching up (Tag Game)

Ive been a bit on and off and felt like making a tag game so here's one to catch up on each other's interests and hyperfixations! Answer the 10 questions and tag 5 people. No pressure ofc!

@fluffandgiggles @ppystkposts @crazy-as-a-jaybird @blobbirobbi @kusuguricafe + everyone who wants to join! **edit + everyone who received a notification from when I tried to tag 10+ people and the tumblr post broke 😂

❤️ Newest obsessions: Dungeon Meshi, probably has been clear.. and capybaras. Taylor Swift not very new but refueled obsession since seeing the eras tour concert!

🎥 Last 3 movies I watched and what I thought of them:

Inside Out 2 - CRYING SOBBING LOVING IT SO MUCH

The Parent Trap 1998 rewatch - Still golden fav, one of my guiltiest pleasures

Sous la Seine / Under Paris - Love a good shark movie but thought this was mediocre smh. the ending was cool tho hahaha

🎶 3 songs I discovered recently and love:

Peggy - FEMININE RAGE

Spencer Sutherland - Alive

HOYO-MIX - Interstellar Journey

💘 Newest fav ships: Falin x Marcille , Chilchuck x Senshi, and Laios x Kabru all from Dungeon Meshi!!!

📺 Currently watching: The Apothecary Diaries, Wind Breaker, House of the Dragon, Pokemon Johto Journeys (rewatch), FMA Brotherhood (rewatch), Mushoku Tensei S2 (might drop it)

📖 Currently reading: Dungeon Meshi manga, Define the Relationship manhwa, XXX Buddy manhwa (both manhwas on hold but I'll continue reading soon!)

🎮 Currently Playing: Fortnite, Minecraft, Genshin Impact (haven't played since Cyno story quest tho), Zelda Tears of the Kingdom (on hold), Yakuza 0, Zelda Skyward Sword, Hogwarts Legacy, note: I kinda dropped all mobile games but I'm really considering starting love & deepspace again hmmm.

😍 Currently looking forward to: New Fortnite update, Genshin Natlan update (even though I have to catch up on the previous ones lol), the new Deadpool movie, Blue Lock movie (seeing it this week!)

✅ Recently finished: Kaiju No. 8 (anime), other than that no books, manga, games or shows. All still in progress lol.

💌 Something to Share: I'm glad to see people are enjoying the x reader drabbles and I'm motivated to work on them faster when I can! Thanks everyone for your patience.. T-T

[cloudmancy]

I have no desire to get you in trouble but I would be curious to hear your thoughts on the new episode and the preview because I also have.. thoughts and I'm interested in what other people clocked as not great or kinda.. idk. other people's concerns, because I have had a lot of them and I never see people really talk about those things

they're doing a new format this season where they film a bunch of rp episodes in a row then take a break when there's a battle so the crew can get the battleset ready, so I understand the dissonance. but the tone of this episode from the tone of last episode was SO jarring. I was ready to chew drywall at the end of episode 17 but we head into the episode 18 fight and at the end all I can say is... damn! that sure is a battle that happened. the entire fight felt really low-stakes even though objectively a few of the bad kids were in mortal danger, but the mood at the table was so relaxed and chill and there was almost no roleplay at all... which drove me so crazy

>no rp except for fun silly party stuff (no callbacks to the adaine elven oracle in a storm thing? after all the fun setup last time??)

>fought 8 different antagonists and none of them said a word

>nobody questioned why or what oisin's grandma or all those dragon were doing there they just started taking them out one by one like raid battles in world of warcraft

>cassandra/nightmare king showed up only to not make any impact or get a single word in

>dos2 lady vengeance fight did the floating boat/ballistas/dragon fight better SMH

and then after all of that we're headed straight into ANOTHER battle episode judging by the preview... and it's against the rat grinders and porter/jace! let me out I want PLOT & DIALOGUE fhjy cannot end like this (5 hours straight of battle where they just kill everyone that moves). there's 2 eps left so I really hope they do the last ep as a 4 hour long roleplay only epilogue episode because as we've all seen ending campaigns on a battle leads to frankly really rushed character and world decisions. it's ultra disappointing too because I loved this entire season so much so far. the setup and buildup and plot points and mystery of fhjy is the best they've ever done it in dimension 20 period

ep 18 fhjy battle was a letdown to me... not giving the party an rp episode after 3 hours of loredump + going straight into a final battle without being able to interact with the world after gaining info is bad. they should've had a chance to process everything they learned about house sunstone, porter's plan, the rat grinders being used as ascension fodder, whatever the whole deal behind ambrosia and lucy frostkettle and why they needed a helios cleric in buddy IN ROLEPLAY. I don't want all this stuff explained to me after the battle by brennan or in some throwaway lines in the adventuring party - I want the bad kids to talk to people! I want them to investigate! I want fig to pull some BS with porter knowing the full extent of all his plans. it really sucks for us as an audience too to be hit with all this lore and get approximately 0 time for it to sink into the implications of how the worldbuilding was shaped by it or realizations of "ohhh that's why that happened at the beginning of the season" before we go straight into killing everyone.

with the way this is going I don't have any confidence they're gonna be able to actually empathize at all with the rat grinders too before they start lopping heads off because in battle episodes everyone kind of just. becomes numbers and an objective to take out except for pet favourite npcs of the cast. and they've mostly been interacting with the rat grinders as nuisances all season 😭 I'm PRAYING to be proven wrong and the last 2 episodes of this are fantastic but it's not looking good folks

[futbol16]

Just an FYI  • Ana-Maria Crnogorčević

Request:  can I please request jealous protective anamaria over R?

Word count: 3k

Going into the Champions league semi final you were quite surprised to see that Barca would be going up against Arsenal. Nonetheless, you were excited. Especially because of how the last games ended two years ago. You knew the reds have improved their team and game a lot since then, but that didn’t stop you from picturing all the goals your team would send soaring past Zinsberger. 

You sat next to your usual bus buddy, Ana, on the way to the stadium and the two of you spent the bus ride laughing and sharing the snacks you were allowed to eat. 

“How many goals do you think we’ll score?” she questions with the same cheeky smile on her face that you are wearing, the both of you more than ready for the match.

“I reckon 2, maybe 3.” you nod confidently, following your statement by your own question. “What would you predict for the end result?”

“3-0” she shrugs nonchalantly and you chuckle at her antics, leaning into her side more. Your cheeks are dusted with a light pink shade as Ana keeps an arm around you.

 “Okay, 3-1 if we get unlucky.” You can only nod along to her words, knowing that the team is in its best form and a strong Arsenal won’t stop you from scoring.

Walking out into the tunnel already clad in your Barca jersey you take your place behind Jana. Your focus is solely on the pitch just outside the tunnel but you’re also aware of the stares of some players from the Arsenal line to your right. 

You breathe in deeply to calm your nerves and then you slowly exhale. Ana senses your slight distress from behind you and without a second thought she slides her hand into yours, giving it a squeeze. It seems like her gesture has the desired effect because the pounding of your heart is becoming less intense and you feel more at ease. Your thumb rubs over her knuckles in appreciation and the Swiss international’s heart swells at it. Just as quickly as her hand slipped into yours, you let go of it though and Ana’s eyes snap down to your hand in confusion, only to then be nudged from behind and she realizes the team has started walking out. 

The game is intense to say the least. It is apparent that even without Vivianne and Beth, Arsenal are more than capable of creating chances. Barca is doing good too and although the possession remains mostly in your team’s, Arsenal’s defense is proving to be hard to get through. 

You’re experiencing it first hand because as soon as you're near the penalty box, a certain defender takes you out in some way or another. Every single time. More than half of these tackles have been borderline fouls which frustrates you and your team on no end. Irene and Ana can barely contain themselves enough to not spring into action and give the defender a bit of their own medicine. 

The first time you were brutally side tackled, her boots catching a bit of your ankles, you thought you knew who it was. The flash of the red jersey and the aggression of the tackle is one you’ve experienced from an Arsenal defender before. However, when you catch sight of the name on her back, you’re beyond surprised to see it’s not McCabe who’s been trying to end your career. 

“Bloody hell, what has gotten into her?!” you mutter under your breath as Ana helps you up and the referee finally blows her whistle. There’s a fire in Ana’s eyes as she glares at Catley, one that you recognize in every other Barca player’s eyes too. They’re all ready for revenge. It’s a well known fact about Barcelona, any Barca team. If they mess with one if you, they won’t come out alive.

“What? Ref that was nothing, it was the ball! The ball!” Steph shouts in fury, mimicking a ball with her hands. 

“You might need glasses, honey.” Mapi retaliates and while Ingrid tries to stifle her laugh, Ana next to you doesn’t hold back. The referee interferes before it can go any further and hands the ball to Irene, telling her that the team is going to be awarded a free kick. Steph Catley’s expression falters slightly as she watches the ref write her name on the yellow card. 

“You confident to take it?” she raises an eyebrow with a small smile, knowing just how much you enjoyed shooting from long distances. 

As you stand behind the ball just halfway in between the halfway-line and the penalty area, your eyes rake over the players scattered around in front of the goal. Your gaze connects with Ingrid’s and all you need is the small nod she gives you before you’re sending the ball into another dimension with the force you kick it with. The Arsenal players expected you to line your shot up for a header but when the ball goes soaring above them and straight into the goal, they stare after it with wide eyes, their bodies still in a position that tells you they were ready to head the ball away. Dumbfounded, that’s what they were. All of them. 

In an instant you’re surrounded by the team as you do a knee slide in celebration before getting into the group hug. 

“I fucking told you they weren’t ready for you!” Ana shouts in your face as she touches her forehead to yours and you laugh at her words while your body heats up. Even as the team moves back into position, the winger stares after you with a prideful look.

Your happiness is short lived because barely fifteen minutes later and just before halftime, Frida manages to slot the ball into the goal, just out of reach for Panos. 

Despite the equalizer, the girls' heads are held high as you head to the locker room, ready for the halftime speech Jonatan would be giving. 

Ana-Maria’s hand subtly resting on your thigh grounds you enough to absorb everything the coach says like a dehydrated plant. Ana on the other hand, keeps most of her focus on you during those fifteen minutes and she doesn’t miss the pink tint of your cheeks as her thumb grazes your skin just below your shorts. 

Truthfully, the two had been dancing around your feelings for each other since the start of the season. It started when the team was out for team bonding and you ended up dancing with a girl at the bar - far too intimately you had to admit. It resulted in endless teasing from your friends and a scowl on Ana’s face. You didn’t understand why she was upset, and for the first few days neither did Ana. But as the weeks went by and her urge to be closer to you only grew, she had come to the realization that she had strong feelings for you. 

You shared these feelings, you’ve always found Ana attractive but you were scared to shoot your shot with the older woman, scared of the embarrassment you’d feel when you would be rejected. The blonde never made a move on you either, only giving small signs here and there that weren’t enough to give you a clear indication as to how she felt. She has only recently gotten as touchy as she was now, her hand rarely leaving you.

The second half of the game is a hard fought one. Frida and Stina are on the move any chance they get and Steph still hasn’t given up on trying to sprain your ankle. In spite of their clearly good advances on goal, your team has switched up their strategy as well. Zinsberger can’t catch a break in goal with each shot Caro and you send her way, and you’re proud to say that Sandra has stayed clean in your goal. The defenders are working extra hard to keep the ball away from the penalty box. 

Just as the clock hits the 60’th minute mark, Ana sends a through ball that ends up in front of Aitana’s feet who continues the pass towards you. You know you have to make a quick decision before Catley comes pouncing on you. Pass or shoot. The ball is still in the air. Pass or shoot. The red of Steph’s shirt appears in your peripheral vision, you can’t let her close. Shoot. 

With a jump, your back still facing the Arsenal goal, your foot connects with the ball in an overhead shot. On your descent towards the ground you merely manage to crane your neck and watch as Zinsberger attempts to punch it over the crossbar.

You aren’t given a second to react before a body lands on you, many following behind and you lay under the pile of blaugrana players with a satisfied grin on your lips.

“VAMOOSSS!!” 

The switch flips after that and Barca take advantage of Arsenal’s momentary discouragement. Another shot fires into the back of the goal, courtesy to Caroline and you don’t even bat an eye at the way Steph barrels into you when the game is resumed because it is only five minutes after that when the full time whistle is blown. Barca is through to the final.

You ignore the Arsenal players around you and the crowd as you dance around in happiness with your teammates, celebrating the win. 

“3-1 like I told you.” Ana winks at you and you roll your eyes at her.

“It’s not like I said it would be different.” she chuckles at you and then breaks out in a laugh when you gently shove her.

Once everything has calmed down a bit, you shake hands with the one red player you haven’t shaken hands with. You’re surprised when you’re pulled into a hug by the defender but you pat her back anyway. Steph pulls back from you though she keeps her hands on your biceps and looks you over with a smirk. 

“You made my job extra hard today, you know.” she informs you as her thumbs rub into your bicep and you let out a nervous laugh.

“Yeah well I didn’t know the yellow card McCabe’s spirit would possess you.” The Australian throws her head back as she laughs and her hands slide lower on your arm before her fingers graze over yours. 

You barely resist from pulling back from her touch, mildly uncomfortable in the situation you’ve found yourself in with the defender who’s been trying to separate your ankles from the rest of your legs.

“Do you want to swap shirts?” the heavy accent rings out close to your face and she doesn’t give you time to answer as she pulls the shirt over her head. You can’t refuse now though. Steph’s hands play with your Barca kit but she’s quick to put it on once you’ve handed it to her. 

Steph’s eyes remain glued to your toned abdomen as she continues lightly praising the way you’ve played. Just as her fingertips are about to make contact with where she’s been staring, a hand slides across your torso.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you’ve been holding as you recognize the arm and your body relaxes into hers. Ana’s hand remains on the waistband of your shorts, clearly displaying not only her protectiveness but also rubbing it into the defender’s face when her fingers softly scratch the skin of your abdomen, soothing you more than possible. 

Steph’s eyes finally part ways with your abs and her head snaps back up to your face. You almost laugh at the frightened look that washes over her expression. 

“Everything okay here?” That's not a question, all three of you know that.

The Swiss international stares her down, a mix of emotions swirling in her eyes but Steph can tell none of them are good. The brunette clears her throat in discomfort, averting her eyes back to yours as she rushes out a goodbye.

“It was nice to meet you - well formally, you know, apart from the many tackles.” she huffs out a laugh but stops when Ana raises a daring eyebrow, urging her to finish. 

“Erm, well thank you for the shirt and goodluck in the final” the Australian almost squeaks out and you decide to cut her some slack as you give her a quick hug. Still, the blonde’s hand remains on the small of your back and she gives Steph one last glare over your shoulder before the defender practically sprints back to her own team. Ana snorts at that and you lift your gaze to meet the older woman.

“Thank you” you tell her sincerely as you lean into her side and you discreetly press a small kiss to her shoulder. The winger’s face heats up right in front of you for the first time ever and she struggles to say anything for a second. A smile forms on your lips as you see her all flustered. You’d be lying if you said your knees weren’t close to giving out from the softness of her eyes and the seemingly star struck expression on her face.

“I’ll go catch up with Ingrid and Frida, okay? I will see you after” you give her arm a squeeze and Ana nods at you. She stares after you as you join your national teammates while you struggle to pull on the shirt and she chuckles under her breath when Ingrid gives you a helping hand. 

“Du bist eifersüchtig” A voice speaks up next to her and Ana jumps slightly. Lia grins at her with a knowing look and Ana can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes.

“Nein.”

“Ja. Don’t think I didn’t see whatever that was just now. Oh and the hand holding before the game?” the Swiss women share a look and then Ana sighs in defeat as she finally pulls her national teammate into a hug. However, she is quick to redirect the topic as she instead opts to ask about how her friend has been doing since the last time they’ve seen each other.

A few minutes later both teams start heading inside and you hug Frida goodbye as you detach from your Norwegian group. You lean your head on Ana’s shoulder, who without your knowledge glances down at you with a fond smile.

“Hi Lia” you greet the Swiss Arsenal player and she hugs you. 

“I also better get going. See you next time” she tells the two of you and then she gives Ana a teasing smirk who thinks she knows what her friend is about to say. “Sag ihr, dass du sie liebst!” the confusion on your face is one she expected but the blonde next to you had been totally caught off guard by what she said. But, a second later, she does give a small, shy nod.

“Come, let’s not make them wait.” you follow the blonde into the changing room and then onto the bus.

It doesn’t come as a surprise to you when by the time the bus leaves the car park, half the team is passed out and deep in sleep. The dark sky outside the window can only hint as to just how late it is. You’re sitting next to Ana in one of the last rows in the bus, like usual. 

Unlike the rest of your friends though, the two of you are wide awake. You’ve always been known to be very energetic so you can’t even think of resting your eyes. Meanwhile, Ana-Maria next to you is deep in thought about what Lia had told her. 

You linking your pinkies together is what breaks her out of her trance and she turns to you. The dimmed lights of the bus give you a halo and as the light from the street lamps shine through the window Ana recognizes the glimmer in your eyes.

“What’s got you lost?” you whisper, mindful of all the girls who are sleeping around you. The blonde’s eyes are dark with desire and the urge to tell you everything. She swallows hard as you patiently wait for her to say something.

“Look Y/N/N, I just really-” she stops mid sentence, wondering if it was the right thing to tell you. You reach out with one hand to cup her cheek gently, bringing her gaze to meet yours again. 

“You really what?” Ana opens her mouth again and her eyelids flutter at the way her body heats up when your thumb strokes over her cheek. She has never felt so flustered around someone. She can feel your breath fanning against her face, only now noticing that she has subconsciously leaned closer to you. “Ana?”

“I really like you” she chokes out and she’s ready to panic but your soft touch calms her slightly. “Actually, maybe I'm in love with you. I don’t know if that’s a wrong thing, I get it if you don’t feel the same way. Just like, an FYI” she rambles in a hushed tone and you swear you’ve never seen her act so nervous. 

The butterflies in your stomach are going crazy however and you’re overwhelmed with joy knowing that the Swiss woman feels the same way you do.

“Ana, I’m in love with you too” you tell her softly - although truthfully you thought it was obvious - and her eyes meet yours. The adoration in your gaze makes her blush deeper and you smile at her, your own face heating up at the close proximity as well as the confession.

“Just an FYI” the two of you giggle quietly and you press your face into her neck to muffle the sound. Ana lets you stay there for a second before she eases your head back and her eyes move to your lips. Your mouth falls open in anticipation and you gently squeeze her thigh.

“Can I?” Ana breathes out.

“You know you can” is all it takes for Ana to dive right in and claim your lips. You softly gasp into the kiss, your senses heightened and utterly in love with the way she kisses you so passionately, like she’s been waiting for decades. It’s only for a second that you pull away to take a breath and then you’re back in, lips molding together and moving against each other in a fervent yet loving way, uncaring of the people around you. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” Ana whispers against your lips while your fingers tangle in her hair.

“I’ve wanted you to do this for so long.”

[woso-fan13]

Sicktember 2023: 30 (uswnt)

Patient 0

It wasn’t your fault. Technically, you are the only person that the blame falls to, but you didn’t mean for everything to happen. You had felt fine when you had left for camp and when you arrived. You didn’t start feeling sick until dinner on the first full day, but you blamed the headache on the lack of water that you had consumed that day. 

Waking up the next morning, you knew that this wasn’t caused by a little dehydration. This was, without a doubt, a nasty bug. 

You were determined to keep this to yourself in all ways possible. You didn’t want your teammates to know that you were sick, but you also didn’t want to get them sick. The best way to accomplish both of these things is to hide from everyone as much as you can. 

You had some pretty good excuses over the next day, insisting that you needed to complete a lengthy assignment for school and spending a lot of time in your room. You also claimed that you wanted a little extra practice time, allowing you to get out of the locker room before everyone else arrived and stay on the field until you were sure everyone had changed. It was draining, but it was for the best. 

—-

On the third day, an unstopping knock sounded on the door. When you heard the voices on the other side- Emily and Kelley- you knew that they wouldn’t stop knocking until you opened the door. 

Unwrapping the blanket from your body and pausing briefly to try and make yourself look less ill, you make it to the door and open it. You stare at the women on the other side, an eyebrow cocked in question. 

“Hey, nugget,” Emily says, pushing past you and walking into your room, “we figured you could use some company tonight.”

You protested, assuring the women that you were busy while trying to hide the rasp in your voice. The two women ignore you and settle on your bed anyway.  

“Yeah, yeah,” Kelley rolls her eyes, “I’ve heard, you’re swamped. But you know what I think?”

You shake your head slightly, unsure as to where Kelley is going. 

“I think it’s all a lie. What do you think, Sonny, is Y/N lying to us?”

You try to protest but Emily interrupts you, “she obviously is. I mean, look at her.”

“I think you’re lying,” Kelley continues, “because it’s summer right now. So I know your fall classes haven’t started, and I know that you weren’t taking any summer classes. So you obviously aren’t working on something for school. All of this brings up the question of why you’re lying.”

You stay silent, your eyes suddenly finding it necessary to study the carpet on the hotel floor. 

Emily decides that she should also chime in, “at first, we thought you were just being a little shy. But, come on, when have your name and shy been used in the same sentence?”

Kelley continues the conversation, “Then we thought you might be working on a surprise or a prank or something, but you can’t keep a secret.”

“And then,” Emily pauses, “we figured it out.”

“You’re sick, kiddo,” Kelley says bluntly. 

“No, I’m not,” you insist much too quickly for someone telling the truth, “I’m totally fine, I’ve just been busy. But I’m completely, 100%, totally healthy.”

Kelley snags an arm around your waist, pulling you to sit between the two women on the bed, “it’s okay if you’re not.”

And the dams had burst, as you began crying. The two women hold you tighter, whispering calming words as you allow all of the emotions from the past few days to escape. 

“Shh, buddy, you’re okay,” Emily soothes, “we know you’re feeling a little sick, but you’ll feel better soon. I promise.”

“It’s not that,” you whimper through tears, “I- I just don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

Somewhat confused by your confession, the women share a look over your head. Kelley pulls you to completely rest against her, dropping a few kisses to your hair. 

“You don’t have to be alone, that’s why Emmy and I are here. We’re going to snuggle up and watch a movie before bed, you’ll be right between us.”

“But I can’t, cause then you’ll be sick.”

Oh. 

That’s what you had been afraid of. 

“Oh, bug,” Emily says sadly, “we don’t care if we get sick, that’s okay.”

“But you’ll get sick and then everyone will get sick and it will all be my fault,” you force the words out through tears. 

“You’re not going to be patient 0, Y/N/N, I promise. And even if you are, no one will be mad,” Kelley reassures you. 

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Remember when you got really sick at camp last year and ended up in the hospital?”

You nod, thinking about the endless wait in the ER as your sick lungs struggled to breathe properly. 

“Do you remember how you got sick?”

Again, you nod. 

“Do you blame me? I was the first one in the team to get sick and I was your roommate. Was it my fault you got sick and were in the hospital?”

You frantically shake your head no, “of course not, don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t mean to get me sick.”

The women fix you with identical looks, clearly telling you to take your own advice. And you do, slumping fully into their embrace with a sigh. 

[fortheb0ys]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLYeA8Kt/

Okay okay okay

Pet play with Jeff vs Graves would be soo fun to see

Jeff only really gets rough if provoked, feels awful after usually unless it's sex. Then he's probably pretty satisfied, but even then he's really not that rough. Really gotta work him up to being rough, let him blow some steam in a safe environment where he won't be afraid to be "bad."

He has his moments, overwhelmed and probably panicked, especially after Shauna and her "book club." But he's not inherently a bad dog. He's a good boy, just needy and clingy, probably a bit insecure and wary around people.

That biting issue isn't awful after being with him for awhile, probably actually able to train him over Shauna. But sometimes he'll bite if something feels too good or he's frightened, but I can't imagine putting him in his kennel again over it. They're accidents, lost in his head like last time and everyone's learning from it

Graves?

Rough and mean for the hell of it. Is not satisfied by slow sappy shit unless you really work him in, or his day was genuinely terrible. But usually? Graves is wrestling and probably straight up sparring with you for dominance that he doesn't want.

Bites bites bites all the time. You look like you were thrown to the wolves after leaving a session with Graves, cannot train this out of him. It's his god given right as a puppy. Fuck him with a dildo with a knot? It's soo over for him. Eyes rolled back and drooling everywhere. 0 thoughts in this pups brain, literally none at all as he's shooting blanks over and over again.

He's bratty, mouthy. Loves to tease and be pampered. Stressed at work? Scratch behind his ears and coo at him and he's melting away, itching for that weight of a collar around his neck.

Anyways 😭 idk if any of that makes sense but you get to have my rambles anyways!

-🥭

AHHHH I WANNA DIG A HOLE IN YOUR SKULL TO LIVE IN YOUR BRAIN AND EAT YOUR THOUGHTS!! THIS SO PERFECT😭 This is fucking perfect! I'm so sorry if none of this makes sense.

Jeff is gentle natured. Only ever violent when really pushed in a corner or someone's threatening people dear to him. He's definitely not in control of his mouth when he experiences any overwhelming emotions. He would bite his lip, the inside of his mouth or tongue and not realize. He'd start panicing or whine when he taste blood.

He just doesn't like to be treated rough at all. Rough means punishment. He needs reassurance that he's not a bad boy and that no one's mad at him.

I feel like Jeff gets let off the handle more than he should. Don't want to push him and break his trust. He's, for the most part, well behaved. If he does something wrong he's most likely going to beg for forgiveness before he could get reprimanded.

His kennel isn't really for punishment. It's more of a safe space for him. Just plushies and throw blanket. It's only ever punishment if the cage is closed.

He likes everything soft and sweet, especially nicknames. Cute one like buddy, puppy, pumpkin, etc. He loves to be spoiled. Kisses and praises more the material things.

Shauna lets him stay at your place some weekends and as much as he loves spending time with you Jeff questions why Shauna doesn't love him anymore. He definitely soooooo fucking clingy. The type of dog to wait outside the bathroom door.

Shauna probably wouldn't have much patience with training him. Would give up quickly or scold him a little too hard. Gentleness is key in reinforcing Jeff's good behavior.

Graves gives the vibe of one of those pitbulls named 'Cupcake' or 'Princess'. He can be sweet but violence is in his nature. I think he reacts violently because that's how he was treated. He's violent with both play and sex. He'll violent rip apart toys and goes through them so easily. Old wounds can never heal properly cause he just bites over them (I have a fic talking about this actually).

Graves thinks if he does his mission he'll get rewarded but is let down constantly by Shepherd. He'll finish his mission and all Shepherd gives him is a cold pat on the back and his paycheck.

Yes, Graves loves the money but he craves to be praised both cause of his ego and his deep need to be wanted. If someone wants him, they pay.

Shepherd calls him a dog with a bone. He'd somehow learn of Graves' puppy play. Use it against him and for sometime Graves let him. He's loyal to the ones he's close with and it took alot to break that trust. But seeing his men, the ones he views as a pack, die made him snap.

So now with a new 'handler' he's never going to be fully trusting. He gave it away and it backfired.

I think Graves bite more so to show ownership. Yes, he has violent tendencies but he like to see markings. It's way of him keeping some level of control. Plus he just genuinely like to do it.

Graves accept no punishment. If boundaries are crossed or his actions too severe, just go quiet for a few days to scare him. He'll think he'll be abandon and will crawl back. It's a bit cruel but it's the only thing that works.

He has money so spoiling him with gifts isn't going to win any favor. He just wants someone to 'play' with. Honestly he'd probably pay. Of course, most of the paycheck is hush money.

Graves requires a lot of energy burning activity aka sex when in his head space. He's a busy man and doesn't get to relax often. I can imagine his has those heavy chain collar. Chain him somewhere and get him to fuck himself on a knotted dildo while trying to finish work than fuck him for hours after.

[freakartack]

Okay. This is going to be an extremely weird question, especially since I have the opposite mario alien tism

How would orbulon react to the shroobs :0 I'm just curious

NOT WEIRD i fucking love thinking about warioware's connection with the Greater Mario Universe, which I am also unhealthily obsessed with. In fact I'll do you one better:

ORBULON'S RANKINGS OF VARIOUS ALIENS IN THE MARIO SERIES*

*Not including things that are only aliens by virtue of being in mario galaxy

Shroobs

Going to talk about them as a collective here (so this includes all shrooboids and shroobsworths and whatnot), but first of all I fucking love the shroobs. I think the concept of a fungus alien that weaponizes mycorrhizae is ingenious, and their blank little gaping mouth expression is hilarious. THAT BEING SAID, orbulon would be a little less receptive to them. Given that he's been trying to take over the world for 1000 years, and they almost conquered it in like 2 seconds, he would probably be scared shitless. 0/10 too scary

Tatanga

A lot of people ask me about this one. "Would tatanga and orbulon be buddies? They are both aliens that worked for wario!" And to that I say no. Yes, they are both diminutive little aliens bent on conquering the world. However, so are Shroobs. Not only would orbulon be similarly intimidated by someone way more competent at doing so than his lazy ass, but tatanga, notably, does NOT respect women - he kidnapped the resident red-haired girl to try and force her to become his bride, something that would not fly with orbulon given that he is best friends with a red-haired girl and is also occassionally one himself. Furthermore, while Orbulon works for Wario because Wario offered him a place to stay in his hour of need and they are friends, Tatanga worked for Wario because he was really mad that their mutual enemy stopped him from forcing someone to become his bride. (This was also during Wario's evil phase, so he didn't really care about that as long as Mario got walloped. Which he didn't. Good going, Tatanga.) Fortunately, Orbulon never had to cross paths with tatanga due to my pet theory that he was asleep for the entirety of Super Mario Land. 2/10 incel

X-Nauts

You may be sensing a pattern here. This is another one that Orbulon is not a fan of, but this is also one that he's actually around for. Unlike the invasion of the Shroobs, which he was around for but not invested in Earth beyond a potential conquest yet, or the invasion of Tatanga, which he was asleep for and didn't find out about until he woke up to a million missed notifications on his dashboard about Unknown Spacecrafts Near You, this happened around the events of Warioware Touched (if you decide to view mario games as happening concurrently with wario games released at the same time, which is a fun thought exercise if you ignore enough things.) SO, if we arranged the timeline just so, we could pretend that he had an experience like this:

1/10 their advancements in synthetic organisms are fascinating

Squirps

There is absolutely no chance of Squirps and Orbulon interacting or having interacted. Which is a shame, because they'd probably get along better than most aliens on this list. Squirps would probably regard Orbulon as a weird old man, despite technically being at most half a century younger than him. Orbulon would think he was a cute kid but likely be overwhelmed by his energy as Squirps runs laps around him (similar to Kat and Ana). 7/10 just make sure he doesn't bite you

E.C.

10/10 they go out for drinks every friday

[silverskye13]

ngl i suspected Tanguish was a flavor of trans since i began reading rns XD

in order of fairness and curiosity i feel like i must repeat the question... if Tanguish is trans, what abt Tango?

I have given 0 thoughts to Tango gender, which is a crime actually. I think maybe he's cis, but in a "I thought about my gender and I think yeah, cis guy fits," kind of way. A secure in his masculinity kinda way. Which facilitates all his flirting with his friends when they do talk. He comes from a place of "I know exactly where I stand with this." When Tanguish is discovered trans man, I think he kinda raises his eyebrows and goes "Oh hey buddy! Good for you! Man this hels double thing is weird huh? You're ice and sculk and trans? Huh."

[anxresi]

So, it turns out Chloe IS going to return for S6... this hot off the press from her voice actor... (actually from back in Jan, but who's counting?)

...So why, my dears, couldn't I give a damn?

Probably because, as arguably the writers had no idea what to do with her in S4 and S5 other than strip her of all personality, agency & likability, what's the point in her still remaining?

*She's not going to be a hero again, Manbaby Astruc has made this PERFECTLY clear thankyouverymuch. IMHO, she's far more useful as a tool for him to take out his warped misogynist humiliations on, apparently. Why he doesn't just buy himself a blonde mannequin, call it 'Chloe' then beat it with a wooden stick whilst shouting various profanities within the privacy of his own bedroom, IDK. Maybe it's good therapy for him to expose his weird hang-ups in front of a mass audience? Hey, if it works for him... good for you, buddy! I just wish the rest of us didn't have to suffer to aid his treatment.

*As a villain, Chloe's threat level is arguably less than 0%. She is now written to be dumb as a post, no-one trusts or likes her and everything she says and does seems more cartoonishly infantile with every tortuous appearance since S3. The ONLY time she posed any vague threat is during her massively overhyped team-up with Lila where basically she was little more than a pawn to the Mary Sue Of All Lying B*tches... and those two episodes where she took over Paris as Mayor with a bunch of robots were undebately the most stupid ones of S5. Which if you've seen the competition, you KNOW that's some achievement.

*My prediction is: They're gonna rehash the same tiresome schik we saw before she got on that plane at the end of S5... perhaps they'll give us a one episode Hope Spot upon her unexpected arrival back where it looks like she's changed after attending a 'tough school' in New York/London but OH MY WORD WHAT A SURPRISE it turns out to all have been a ruse to become Queen Bee again. YAWN. She'll move straight back into her old room... Andre and Audrey will reconnect... and it'll be like nothing ever happened. In case you hadn't noticed, this show handles plot continuity or character development about as well as Marinette keeps her distance from her crushes.

*'But where does that leave Zoe?' You might ask, to which I can only respond with a succinct 'If you had the Hubble Space Telescope on full power, you still wouldn't be able to locate how little I care about that particular subject.' Maybe she'll carry on as Vesperia. Maybe she'll get a girlfriend. Maybe she'll do something halfway interesting, and give the viewership a heart attack out of sheer shock value alone. It doesn't matter to me one jot... less because I curse the ground this insipid plot device masquerading as a serious character walks on, but simply because I have no faith in the utterly abysmal writing this show has displayed for years and years now. Chloe could take over the lead role in a SHOCKING twist, they could change the name to Miraculous Queen and I STlLL wouldn't give it a second glance. The fish rots from the head-up, guys.

(Okay, so that's a bit of a lie. I would probably sneak a peek at ONE episode out of sheer curiosity, but you and I both know with HIM in charge the standard won't improve one iota. Plus, it isn't gonna happen anyway... so why am I tying myself in knots speculating about an impossible scenario?)

Anyway, I've nattered on for too long. I'll just leave you by answering Selah's somewhat disingenuous last question there about 'your favorite Chloe line of season 5'.

This implies we were watching 'Chloe'. As far as I was concerned, we weren't. Not the Chloe I fangirled for in the very beginning and got me involved in the show in the first place because I could relate so much. Not the Chloe who got so many other fans emotionally invested in her personal and familial struggles, before her character was comprehensively trashed by a ruinous creator with a grudge.

So in answer to your question Ms Victor, none. Because it simply wasn't Chloe.

[malwaredykes]

honestly tbh leigh's relationship with the ncr is REALLY funny because. she hates them. she has 0 allegiance to them. she doesnt help THEM she resolves matters in ways that often happen to benefit them in some way or simply prevents needless loss of life, but it never is about them and aside from that shes always stealing, sabotaging, disrespecting them, turning people against them, encouraging members to desert, putting their legitimacy into question, especially the legitimacy of them being in the mojave in the first place, and exposing their ineffectiveness. she has 0 intention of venerating The Republic that she comes from. she thinks its hilarious that anyone should take that stuff seriously.

but she ends up being a celebrity to them. because crocker likes her despite everything, and hsu likes her, and because shes from new cali but important in the mojave, and because shes done stuff like calm things down in the freeside and help at refugee camps and retake nelson. which makes her even more of a problem in a way. if she were Only a nuisance thatd be one thing, theyd just put a bounty on her. but shes a celebrity. she has a status in new vegas and in the ncr. shes kind of untouchable. and her crimes and sabotage can never quite be proven. of course to the higher ups theres having proof and theres Knowing. shit only gets worse when she and her buddies storm the legion fort and kill caesar and free a bunch of slaves because like. this strengthens her vip status AND is absolute humiliation to the ncr. like they cant take the credit and instead they have to live with the fact that what a lot of them dismissed as some upstart with a bunch of clueless locals backing her did something they never couldve achieved. "oh this was pretty much an angry mob of townies and misfits" yeah and they got caesar in his own fortress. shes out there making the ncr look like shit and pointing people to seeing the ncr as the problem and yet she never does it in a way that she could be prosecuted for. by the time the ncr realizes shes a lot of trouble they also know they would lose a TREMENDOUS amount of support if they did something to her

like shes never openly hostile. she never provokes open hostility. shes not Openly Antagonistic to the ncr but its not exactly a secret shes got something planned and would like them to leave. young ncr recruits seeing her are like Omggg ma'am its an honor!!!! ^_^. there are officers and rangers whod be REALLY appalled if you said anything bad about her because Well she sure has done a lot more for us here on site than any of you government people. and that was her goal. that is the game shes playing. folks youll eventually realize its not the ncr that has done good in the mojave despite its flaws, but yours were the hands doing the work, and all the reasons one might consider ncr good or necessary are within you, Are you, the people who joined hoping theyd make a difference. folks youll realize that the ncr has to lie and obfuscate and make bullshit orders and directives to maintain claim over that good work and whitewash its own crimes. folks, i have this ex-ncr friend here. do you know what the ncr got him? complicity in atrocities (lyrical miracle), ptsd, apocalyptic thinking, countless biases to unpack, hopelessness, enemies where he shouldve made friends. and so on. and do you know what he got from *me*? a chance to actually do good. a chance to question those false beliefs of his. a friend. new opportunities. 40 rolls of duct tape. new rifle. lots and lots of soda. TWO toy trucks. and an apple. just ask him