#Homework Help On Hypothesis Testing

[snail-day]

A Hypothesis on You

Sum: You led on the nice guy, but they don't always finish last.

Yandere Nerd!Gojo x Reader

Next part: Gaslighting? Baby, I'm just lovebombing (not official title)

TW: Yandere Behaviors, murder, implied unprepped anal, toy mention, masturbation, kidnapping, noncon, brief gore/violence, forced discord kitten, mdni

WC: 3.6k

Satoru Gojo had arrived at a definitive conclusion, one backed by indisputable, empirical data collected through careful observation. The hypothesis? You were in love with him. And, naturally, upon evaluating this data, he had no choice but to reciprocate with an all-consuming, maddening adoration of his own.

The evidence was overwhelmingly positive.

Exhibit A: The Discord Calls

The instant the Discord ringtone reverberates through his headset, a low-frequency hum tickles his synapses. His heart rate accelerates - not in an alarming, fight-or-flight way, but in a perfectly measurable, dopamine-infused, love-induced response. He notes the variables at play: the sharp pang of anticipation, the compulsive need to fix his posture, the way his pupils dilate when he catches sight of your profile picture - just the default Discord logo, a bland, impersonal icon that only fuels his insatiable curiosity.

Who are you, really?

What do you do in your free time? What are your hobbies, your secret indulgences, your intricate thought processes? And most critically - what is your type?

He should be focusing on the study session, reviewing notes, optimizing memory retention, and running mental simulations of possible test questions. Instead, he’s staring at that stupid little logo, heart stuttering at the mere idea of your fingers brushing against your keyboard, your voice filling his ears any second now.

And there it is.

Your voice, chipper and bright, crackling through his headset like an electrical current straight to his nervous system. You ask to compare answers for the homework - again. How predictable. How utterly adorable. His lips quirk up, concealed behind a palm as a distinct warmth creeps up his pale face. He knows you’re copying his answers. He always has.

But isn’t that just another irrefutable piece of evidence?

You trust him. You rely on him. You need him.

The sound of frantic scribbling in the background doesn’t go unnoticed - oh no, his genius-level intellect catches every minor detail, every rushed stroke of your pen, every minuscule pause where your breath hitches as you struggle to keep up. A soft chuckle rumbles in his chest, but he keeps his tone light, unassuming.

“Your calculations must’ve been off again, huh? Silly girl.”

He could just give you the answers outright - he wants to, craves the idea of you depending on him, owing him. But it’s much more satisfying to hear the subtle, breathy giggle on the other end of the line, the quiet little “thank you, Gojo” that slips past your lips. An auditory reward.

Exhibit B: The Study Sessions

Oh, how he craves you when you ask him for help. It’s intoxicating, the way your voice, normally so light and confident, softens into something hesitant and uncertain as the test creeps closer. As if you’re nervous, as if the pressure is gnawing at you, sinking sharp little teeth into your resolve, and the only person who can fix it, the only one who can calm you, is him.

That realization? That knowledge that you need him, that you trust him enough to ask?

It sends something thick, honey-sweet, and deliriously suffocating curling low in his stomach, burrowing deep in his chest like a sickness - festering, spreading - one he never wants to recover from.

"Gojo, can we go over the Kreb’s cycle again?"

Your soft, saccharine voice makes his fingers tighten, twitch over his pen. His pink lips part, something between a smirk and a weak, aching sigh, a sound so pathetically fragile, so awed, it nearly makes him sick.

"Again?" he teases, tilting his head slightly as he leans closer to his mic, pretending as if he’s unaffected, as if his body isn’t trembling from the mere sound of you.

You huff, breathy and a little sheepish, like you hate admitting you need him. It’s adorable.

"Yeah… I just - ugh, I always get confused on this part. You explain it better than the professor, anyway."

Oh.

Oh, God.

His brain empties, whites out, dissolves into nothing but static and heat and throbbing, unbearable pleasure. You think he explains it better. Better than the professor. Better than the textbooks, the lectures, every single, mind-numbingly boring source of knowledge you could have gone to - yet you chose him.

He exhales slowly, carefully, forcing himself to stay composed, forcing his grin to stay teasing, lighthearted, like he isn’t about to collapse under the weight of your praise, your trust, your utter dependence on him.

"Well, since you asked so nicely, I guess I can help you out one more time."

He drawls it out, slow and syrupy, because he loves the way you laugh when he flirts - how it always sounds a little shy, a little uncertain, like you don’t know whether he’s joking or not. (He’s not.)

So, he guides you. Carefully. Methodically. Painstakingly.

(He could be a little more patient, but who cares about patience when you’re hanging onto his every word?)

His voice stays playful, painting each step of the process into your mind with such excruciating care, as if his words alone could wrap around you, cocoon you, pull you deeper into him.

And oh, the way you listen. So perfectly. So obediently. So helplessly.

Every little fact, every single note, all scribbled onto your cheat sheet, one you really should have written last night, but you didn’t. Because you needed him to explain it. Because he explains it better. When you finally repeat his words back to him - carefully, thoughtfully - your voice slipping into that sweet, focused lilt that makes his breath hitch, makes his vision blur and darken at the edges - his long, slender fingers twitch over his notes.

God, you sound so pretty when you’re focused. So adorably unsure of yourself, as if you’re afraid you’ll do something wrong. Baby, you don’t have to worry about that. You’ve got him wrapped so tightly around your fingers, he might as well be bound, gagged, and helpless at your mercy.

And yet, it’s him who keeps chasing the sound of your voice, his body betraying him like the sniveling, desperate wreck that he is. Heat begins to coil, low and tight and unbearable, an awful, cloying pressure building deep, deep in his gut, in his chest, in every aching, pathetic part of him that only responds to you.

He has to mute himself.

Has to slouch back in his chair, sucking in sharp, uneven breaths, as his hand - shaking, trembling, fevered and desperate - palms himself through his navy blue sweatpants, pressing against the unbearable, aching strain beneath the fabric.

He shouldn’t.

Really, he shouldn’t.

But your voice - soft and sweet and so fucking eager to learn from him - curls into his ears like a siren’s song, wrapping tight around his throat, unraveling him from the inside out. When you reach past the citric acid portion, stumbling just slightly, your voice breathy, triumphant, proud, it makes his body lock up.

Keep going.

His thighs clench, his lips part soundlessly, a pathetic little whimper catching in his throat, his hand moving against himself without even thinking, mindlessly chasing the unbearable, excruciating bliss of you. Before he can stop himself, before you can even utter the words oxidative phosphorylation, he’s coming, thick, hot white ropes spilling messily over his hand, just picturing how pretty they’d look on your sweet, stunned face, those wide, innocent eyes looking up at him, dumb and pliant and utterly dependent on him.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

His head tips forward, cheek pressing against the desk, eyes glassy, unfocused, dazed, utterly shattered as the aftershocks rip through him.

The Discord call remains active.

"Gojo? Are you still there?"

Shit.

His nerves jolt, his hand jerks back from the mess in his lap, and he scrambles, wiping himself down with sharp, frantic movements, fingers shaking as he fumbles for the mouse.

Unmute. Breathe. Act normal.

He clears his throat, forces a lazy, almost airy chuckle past his lips, masking the remnants of his absolute, pitiful, all-consuming climax with that same easygoing drawl.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Just, y’know…" A pause, a slow grin curling at the edges of his mouth, voice dropping into something thick, teasing, syrupy smooth. "Kinda hard not to zone out when you sound that cute."

You scoff, exasperated, but flustered - just the way he expects, just the way he needs.

"Shut up, Gojo."

He just laughs. Because you don’t mean it. Because if you flunk, you won’t be able to take the next class with him.

That? That would be unacceptable. Because you need him. And he needs to hear that pretty little voice for much, much longer.

Exhibit C: The Messages

His texts are simple. Uncomplicated. Texts that linger unread, swallowed by the void of your notifications, responses so infrequent they might as well be artifacts of a bygone era. And yet, he is always at your beck and call. A constant. A fixed variable in the chaotic equation of your life.

Perhaps you’re just not a big texter. You’re cute like that. You probably prefer face-to-face interactions, don’t you? You want to see him, hear him, breathe the same air. Of course you do. It’s only natural.

Your response, as always, is frustratingly brief.

BlueEyesWhiteDragon: Hope you ate well today! There’s a new bakery nearby, want to check it out?

BlueEyesWhiteDragon: Test scores are out! Let’s celebrate! Drinks on me :3

You: Sorry Gojo! I’m busy :(

Ah. An anomaly. A deviation in the otherwise flawless data set that is you. That’s fine. He understands. Really. Truly.

…Except, no, he doesn’t.

Because then you waltz into class, oblivious and radiant, a walking contradiction wrapped in soft smiles and gentle warmth. You stop by his desk without hesitation, fingers barely grazing his as you press something into his palm - a Digimon (limited edition) pen. A relic from overseas, something rare, something treasured.

"I really appreciate you, Gojo." Soft words, spun from silk, weaving their way into the tangled web of his mind. His fingers tighten around the pen. Neural pathways ignite, synapses firing in a frenzied, luminous cascade. Patterns emerge, connections solidify, conclusions crystallize into absolute truth.

This is an offering. A token of devotion.

Penguins do this, scientifically speaking. They scour the earth for the perfect rock, presenting it to their chosen mate as a vow, a bond, a forever.

Is that what this is?

It has to be.

Because you always sit next to him. Because on test days, you arrive early, never too soon, never too late, just in time to secure the seat beside him. Because your leg brushes his, again and again, warmth seeping through the fabric, sinking into his skin.

Because you lean in, voice hushed, lips barely parting as you whisper, "I’m not looking at your paper, I promise."

But Satoru doesn’t need to analyze probability, doesn’t need statistical models to confirm the truth. The evidence is irrefutable.

You love him.

However, there is an inconsistency in the data. A variable unaccounted for. A contradiction in the flawless theorem that is: you + him = inevitability.

You rejected him.

The memory loops in his mind like a corrupted file, fragmented yet perfectly preserved. He remembers it all, every detail, every nuance, every pixel of your expression. The way his voice had been effortlessly light when he’d asked, his body leaning in, his grin the very picture of confidence as he peered over tinted glasses.

"C’mon, you owe me. How about we grab a meal together? Or, better yet, let’s hit up the arcade. I’ll win you a prize and everything." He had been prepared for many things. Flustered giggles. An exasperated but fond sigh. A teasing eye roll before you inevitably gave in, brushing off his boldness with a "Fine, but you better actually win me something good."

Instead. You hesitated.

Your fingers fidgeted at the hem of your sleeve. Your eyes flickered away. And your lips - so sweet, so cruel - curled into something fragile.

"I’m… I’m not really ready for a relationship right now."

Something fractured. A hairline crack, nearly imperceptible, but there. A fault in the foundation of his reality, small but damning.

"I just have a lot going on, but… maybe when I have some free time, we could… give it a shot?"

And then - then you reached for him. So gently. So thoughtlessly. Tugging at his sleeve in a fleeting, absentminded motion. A mere second of contact, but Satoru felt it everywhere. Your fingertips through the thin fabric of his navy sweater. The featherlight scrape of your nails before retreating. The way your gaze softened when it met his, hesitant, uncertain, but undeniably warm.

It should have pacified him. It should have soothed the sharp, gnawing tightness in his chest, the static buzz at the edges of his mind.

But it didn’t.

Instead, it confounded him.

Because if you truly weren’t ready, if you truly wanted distance, then why did you touch him like that?

Why was your voice so gentle?

Why leave the door open, just a crack, just a sliver of an invitation, just enough for him to slip through like a whisper on the wind?

It doesn’t make sense.

Which means: You’re scared.

Of course, you must be. It’s the only explanation. You’re utterly, helplessly terrified of how much you love him, of the sheer intensity of it, the unfathomable depth, the suffocating inevitability, the inescapable, all-consuming truth that binds you to him. You don’t understand it yet. You don’t see the full picture, don’t grasp the overwhelming magnitude of what you feel, the way it stretches into infinity.

But that’s okay. He can wait. Patience is a virtue he’s mastered. He can guide you - new things are daunting, unsettling, horrifying even. He understands; he was the same way with Suguru. A little hesitant. A little afraid. But love is a science, an immutable force, a precise and predictable phenomenon governed by distinct, repeatable patterns. And you - his perfect, brilliant girl - are simply a variable in need of proper calibration. A puzzle to be meticulously solved. An equation to be elegantly balanced.

Though Satoru wasn’t expecting to black out so soon. Not like this. Not from something so trivial, so insignificant, so utterly beneath him. There you were. Standing in that dimly lit hallway of the old lab building, facing away from him while that pathetic, insignificant little man faced him. There you were. Laughing. Twirling your hair. Tilting your chin up in a way that he has never been privy to, pretty eyes flickering with something playful, something forbidden.

Your lip caught between your teeth.

A smile you had never once given him.

Hiding.

Hiding everything.

Satoru blinked. When he opened his eyes again, he was somewhere else. His breath came in shallow, sharp gasps, the copper-tinged taste of adrenaline thick on his tongue. Those slender, pale fingers of his ached, stiff, strained, bloodied. Perfectly manicured nails were splintered. Jagged crescents of flesh wedged beneath them. He wasn’t sure when his hands had wrapped around the bastard’s throat, when he had squeezed until there was a crack, a wet, ugly sound that didn’t quite register until the body collapsed onto the flooring in a graceless, lifeless heap.

Not like the movies. There was no dramatic last words. No struggle. Just the light fading from the bastard's eyes and your screams.

Satoru exhaled, slow and even, watching the body twitch, watching the useless, pitiful sack of flesh that had touched you, looked at you, laughed with you, go still.

No witnesses. No evidence. No problem.

Satoru had paid someone to take care of it. It was just that simple. Blood money for blood stains. A phone call. A transfer. A sigh. A body gone. Clean. Efficient. Effortless. You - his sweet, little traitor - had been so easy to take after that.

Dragging you away was nothing. You were too shocked to fight, too stunned to understand. To light in his arms, even as you thrashed, kicked, screamed, all useless, all futile. He had shoved you into the car, tucked you so nicely into the back seat. Your muffled screams, your fists pounding against the door, such adorable resistance. All it took was a few words, a whispered warning, and your fight died.

"If you scream, kitten, someone else is gonna have to disappear tonight."

You were much more pliant after that, bounded, subdued. Perfectly still. Those pretty, glistening tears streamed down your horrified face, carving delicate, shimmering paths along your flushed, trembling skin. Satoru wiped the last crimson remnants from his hands, his mouth quirking into a lopsided, exhausted smile - lazy, almost affectionate.

“Sorry, kitten,” he murmured, his voice light, breathless, far too casual and sweet. A teasing lilt was buried beneath the softness, barely masked.

Like this was normal.

Like this was just another one of his usual flirtations.

“Sorry you had to wake up here,” he cooed, tilting his head as if in thought, his crystalline eyes gleaming with playfulness. “But you did kind of ask for it.”

Your throat bobbed with a silent, quivering sob, the gag muffling the fractured sound into something weak and helpless. Satoru studied you, his gaze lingering, indulgent. You did look so pretty like this, eyes blown wide, glossy with pitiful tears, frantic and pleading. Your lips, raw and swollen from desperate, futile struggles, clung helplessly to the gag, little muffled whimpers slipping through. Your body trembled in the sweetest, most delicate shakes, the shivers rippling down your spine, your chest rising and falling in frantic, uneven heaves, every panicked breath proof of your helplessness. So small. So utterly, exquisitely defenseless.

His eyes darkened, something wild and untamed curling deep in his gut, a primal, simmering heat coiling beneath his ribs.

"You lied to me." A slow quirk of his lips, his voice dipping into something softer, almost sing-song, a dangerous kind of amusement threading through the lilt of his words as he moved closer. Satoru crouched before you, knees bending with an almost lazy, effortless grace, one hand resting on his thigh, the other reaching for your tear-streaked face with an unsettling gentleness.

Your breath hitched.

You flinched away.

A mistake.

His fingers tightened instantly. Gripping your jaw, forcing you to meet his dull blue-eyed gaze - pressing, pressing, pressing - the tips of his bloodstained nails biting into the fragile skin of your cheeks. Tiny pinpricks of pressure. Your frantic, choked whimpers were music to him. A trembling, pitiful melody that sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine. A sharp inhale before dragging his thumb down the curve of your cheek, smearing the warmth of your tears with an almost devout reverence. Worshipful. Possessive.

"You called me pathetic," he murmured, light, conversational, as though this were nothing more than idle chatter. "A loser."

Your pupils dilated, wide and glassy, breaths coming in quick, shallow bursts, your chest rising and falling too fast, too erratic.

"You lied," Satoru continued, voice dipping lower, rougher, tinged with something ravenous. "Said you weren’t ready for a relationship. But I saw your phone, kitten. Saw all those little apps. Saw what you said about me." Your body shuddered beneath his grip, trembling like a fragile, wounded thing, and something deep in his chest thrummed - a slow, indulgent pulse of pleasure at your helplessness.

"I really just wanted you to be my girlfriend, you know?"

His tone was fond. Almost dreamy. A slow exhale, savoring the moment, fingers ghosting down the delicate curve of your jaw before dipping lower, feeling the erratic rhythm of your pulse, the delicious, frantic flutter of your heartbeat thrumming beneath his touch.

"But being my kitten…?" A soft sigh. "That could work too."

Your tears spilled, unchecked - hot, feverish, slipping down your cheeks in shimmering rivulets, a plea of sorts. One that will go unheard. Satoru hummed a quiet, pleased sound, dragging the pad of his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, feeling the tremble, the way you struggled to hold back the sobs choking your throat.

“I was saving this for our anniversary,” he mused, his voice light, conversational, as if this was nothing more than an offhand remark. His free hand moved, reaching beside him, fingers curling around a carefully bundled package. A costume. Soft velvet, delicate lace. Cat ears and a tail.

For you.

For his new kitten. One that he won't have to listen to on discord anymore. His smile widened as he held it up, tilting his head as if admiring his own thoughtfulness.

"I guess we’ll just have to celebrate early," he cooed, voice dripping with saccharine delight.

You screamed and thrashed as he shoved you down, face-first onto the cold, polished floor, his weight pressing down on you, a purr of amusement vibrating in his chest.

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay." Satoru ran his fingers through your hair, twisting tight at the roots - yanking your head up, forcing you to stare at the glossy, pristine poster in front of you.

Geto Suguru. Your favorite idol. One you would talk to Satoru in the lab about. A common interest between you to. Little did you know, he was a little closer to that interest of yours.

"I did promise you were going to meet him soon, didn’t I?" His breath was hot against your ear, lips curled into something stretched and unhinged. "Mommy is really going to like you."

Your broken, choked sobs filled the room, but he just hummed, smiling like he’d just gifted you something precious. Pressing his lips to your shaking temple. Your breath came in sharp, rapid gasps - panicked, broken, desperate - but Gojo Satoru sighed, twirling a loose strand of your hair between his fingers.

His voice dropped into something dark, low, and breathy. "Daddy is going to take such good care of you." Your body jerked, muscles pulsing with adrenaline. however, his grip tightened, ensuring you were safely in place. Satoru's bright, hungry blue eyes flicked toward the cat tail in his hand -the matching little ears tucked away for later. Lips stretching into something impossibly wide, impossibly giddy.

"Sorry, kitten." A mocking chuckle filled the room as he flipped up your skirt, dragging the steel along your clammy, fevered skin.  "I was going to be gentle." Your eyes widened at the coldness, a soft sigh escaped his lips as he titled his head as if deep in thought, then continued to trace a slow, lingering touch over the goosebumps rising along your skin. "But you really, really broke my heart."

A pause.

"Don’t worry, though."

His breath was warm against your cheek, hot, feverish, as you felt his warm hand push your panties down.

"Mommy will be home soon to make everything better."

[magic-shop-stories]

how would bts (ot7) kids react to them being consistently forgotten by their dad ? they would pay attention to their other siblings or their job? please make it really angsty with a fluffy ending only for the kids

💌 Reply:

Thank you so much for the request, I hope that's what you imagined. I loved the idea ... should really turn this into full imagines some day - feel free to reach out if you want to be tagged Lots of Love - C

NAMJOON

silent cries

intellectual withdrawal

nature as a bridge

reparative vulnerability

HOW HIS CHILD SHOWS THEIR PAIN

Indirect Communication

Leaves a dog-eared poetry book on his desk, open to Lang Leav’s “Lost” with lines highlighted:

“You were here, and then you weren’t / And I’ve been waiting ever since.”

Artistic Rebellion

sketches family portraits where Namjoon is a shadow or blurred figure

labels them “Appa’s Priorities (A Study in Absence)”

Academic Overcompensation

wins a science fair with a project on “The Physics of Emotional Distance”

calculates how often Namjoon misses dinner

doesn’t tell him about the award

Quiet Withdrawal

stops asking for help with homework, even when struggling

when Namjoon offers, they reply:

“It’s okay. Google is faster.”

Sibling Contrast

watches him beam at their sibling’s piano recital

slips out to bury their face in the family dog’s fur

“He remembers their C major, but forgets my B+.”

NAMJOON’S FIRST REACTION

Moment of Realization

finds the science fair project while cleaning

stares at the equations mapping his absences

hands shaking

his throat tightens at the footnote: 

“Hypothesis: If love = attention, then Appa’s love approaches zero.”

Immediate Response

runs to their room, knocking frantically

“Can we talk? Please.” 

voice cracks

Internal Turmoil

Self-Accusation

“I’m a hypocrite. Preached ‘love is a verb,’ but failed to act.”

Memory Flash

remembers missing their 10th birthday for a UN panel

they’d said:

 “It’s okay, Appa. The world needs you.” 

he’d hugged them, not realizing it was a goodbye to expectations

Fear

“Have I turned into the distant fathers I criticized in my lyrics?”

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Apology (Namjoon Style/ No Excuses):

kneels beside their bed at 3 a.m.

voice raw

“I weaponized your empathy. You deserved to be selfish, to scream at me. I’m… I’m so sorry.”

Child’s Reaction

probably silent tears

they whisper -“You didn’t see me.”

Radical Prioritization

Cancels Commitments

postpones album deadlines, surprising his team

“My masterpiece isn’t music, it’s the kids I’m failing.”

”Appa’s Reset”

takes them camping, no phones

at the campfire, he admits:

“I don’t know how to fix this. Will you teach me?”

Rituals of Presence

Daily Check-Ins

sets a 7 p.m. alarm labeled ”Breathe. Listen. Be.”

asks: “What’s something I missed about you today?”

Shared Journal

buys a leather notebook

writes first entry: 

“Day 1: I learned you hate mint chocolate too. How did I not know?”

TYPICAL MOMENTS & DIALOGUE

Past Failures (Angst)

Missed Milestone

they timidly handed him a poem titled “The Invisible Child” during a VLive (don't argue with me it will always be VLive!)

he’d absentmindedly tucked it under his laptop

“Later, yeah?” 

it’s still there, gathering dust

Distracted Praise

when they aced a math test, he’d patted their head while typing lyrics

“Smart kid. Takes after me.”  (they’d flinched)

Reparative Actions (Fluff)

Lecture Crashing

shows up unannounced to their school

embarrassing them with a ”Proud of You” banner during finals week

Vulnerable Confessions

hot cocoa

“I’m scared I’ll never catch up to who you’ve become without me. Let me try.”

Signature Phrases

Growth-Ownership

“I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m asking to earn it.”

Nature Metaphors

“You’re my redwood, growing tall while I wasn’t looking. Let me be your roots again.”

LONG-TERM CHANGES

Work-Life Boundaries

institutes “Golden Hour” = 4–6 p.m.

daily, no emails

colleagues know not to call; his ringtone during those hours is “Family First (feat. his child)” 

Visible Reminders

wears a bracelet they made, beads spelling “SEE ME.”

Advocacy Shift

launches a campaign: “Present Fathers, Present Futures.” 

quotes his child in speeches

“Love isn’t a noun if it’s not a verb.”

Self-Forgiveness Journey

therapy sessions focused on “breaking the cycle of intellectualized detachment.” 

journals: 

“I can’t philosophize my way into their childhood. I have to live it.”

ENDING

months later, hia child adds a new page to the shared journal

“Day 94: Appa cried when I said ‘hi’ to a fan who recognized me for once. P.S. Mint chocolate still sucks.”

Namjoon tapes the page to his studio wall, beside a dried leaf from their camping trip

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

JIN

humor as armor

performative neglect

culinary reconciliation

grand gestures

love in laughter

HOW HIS CHILD SHOWS THEIR PAIN

Over-the-Top Antics

stages elaborate pranks (glitter bombs, fake spiders) to force Jin’s attention

when he laughs but doesn’t engage, they mutter:

“Guess I’m just the court jester, not the prince.”

Satirical Skits

films TikTok parodies titled “World’s Okayest Dad!”

exaggerating Jin’s distracted nods and half-hearted high-fives

tags him, but he only reacts with a crying-laugh emoji

Food Sabotage

burns his favorite snack and leaves the charred remains on his gaming chair

“If you’re gonna ignore me, at least taste my rage.”

Sarcasm as Shielding

responds to Jin’s absentminded praise with biting wit

Jin: “You aced your test? My genes are unbeatable!” Child: “Yeah, too bad your time isn’t.”

Hidden Vulnerability

practices stand-up routines in the mirror

tears mixing with punchlines

“My dad’s so busy, he thinks ‘family time’ is liking my Instagram story!”

JIN’S FIRST REACTION

Moment of Realization

overhears their late-night comedy rehearsal

freezes outside their door at the line:

“Appa’s love language? Seen but not heard.” 

his smile collapses

Immediate Response

bursts in, still in his pajamas, and blurts:

“Yah! Since when are you funnier than me?!”

then hugs them so tight they drop to the floor

Internal Turmoil

Guilt Masked as Humor

“I’m the Worldwide Handsome dad but made my kid feel invisible. Pathetic.”

Memory Flash

remembers their fifth birthday when he’d joked:

“I’ll always be your main character!” 

now they’re a cameo in his life

Fear

“What if they stop trying to make me laugh? What if they stop trying… period?”

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Apology (Jin Style)

arranges a “Roast Battle” in the living room

lets his child tear into him mercilessly

taking each joke like a punch

ends with: “You win. Now roast me for forgetting your fencing match. I deserve it.”

Child’s Reaction

laughs until they cry, then whispers:

“I just wanted you to stay.”

Culinary Confessions

”Apology Banquet”

cooks their favorite meal (galbi tang) together

says, “Love’s like soup, needs time to simmer. I rushed us. Let me fix it.”

Food Metaphors

points at the marinade

“See how the meat soaks up the flavor? I need to soak up you. Teach me.”

Scheduled Silliness

”Jin & Me Time”

blocks weekly slots for absurd activities

karaoke battles, DIY spa days (face masks made of literally anything), and “Dad Joke Olympics.”

Public Shame

posts cringey childhood photos with captions: 

“This is what happens when you ignore your kids. Don’t be me.”

TYPICAL MOMENTS & DIALOGUE

Past Failures (Angst)

Missed Recital

they performed a comedy set at school

Jin arrived late, clapping wildly, but they’d already left the stage

found them backstage, fake-smiling

“It’s okay, Appa. Your fans need you more.”

Distracted Praise

when they won a cooking contest, Jin joked

“Took after me, huh?”  they snapped: “No. Mom taught me.”

Reparative Actions (Fluff)

Surprise Cameo

sneaks into their school play rehearsal dressed as a giant broccoli

delivers their forgotten line, then bows

“Your spotlight, not mine.”

Vulnerable Confessions

during a Mario Kart race:

“I’m scared I’ll never be as cool as you think I am. But I’ll keep crashing until I get it right.”

Signature Phrases

Self-Deprecating Truths

“I’m a joke, but you’re the punchline I didn’t earn.”

Culinary Wisdom

“Love’s not a microwave meal. It’s a feast. Let me set the table.”

LONG-TERM CHANGES

Prioritizing Presence

”No-Phone Zones”

designates dinner table and game nights as tech-free

if he slips, his child gets to throw his phone in the pool (it’s happened twice)

Visible Reminders

wears a custom apron they gifted him:

“Appa Chef: Seasoned with Regret, Spiced with Love.”

Advocacy Shift

launches a series: “Cooking with My Kid” 

episode 1 title: “Humble Pie: A Recipe for Redemption.”

Humor as Healing

therapy focus: “Laughter as a Bridge, Not a Wall.” 

journals

“I used jokes to hide. Now I’ll use them to hold.”

ENDING

months later, his child ambushes him with a prank

replaces his gaming headset mic with a kazoo

when he fake-yells:

“Yah! How dare you!”  they smirk: “You’re welcome. Now you have to listen to me.”

Jin starts a TikTok duet with them, caption: 

“My kid’s the main character. I’m just the comic relief (and I’m okay with that).”

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

YOONGI

silent rebellion

unspoken resentment

musical catharsis

pragmatic devotion

echoes of absence

HOW HIS CHILD SHOWS THEIR PAIN

Hyper-Independence

teaches themselves music production using old equipment Yoongi discarded

creates haunting, minimalist tracks titled “Ghost Notes”

each melody a coded cry for attention

never shares them

Academic Overdrive

skips meals to perfect a coding project analyzing “Patterns of Parental Absence in High-Achieving Households.” 

submits it anonymously to a journal

wins an award Yoongi only discovers via a forwarded email

Cold Courtesy

calls him “Mr. Min” in public

when asked why, they shrug

“You’re more a CEO than a dad. Should I curtsy?”

Shadowed Resentment

recreates Yoongi’s studio in their closet

tiny desk, secondhand MIDI keyboard, soundproof foam stolen from his trash

leaves the door ajar, hoping he’ll notice

he doesn’t

Sarcastic Sacrifice

donates their birthday money to an orphanage

leaves the receipt on his desk:

 “Invest in someone who’ll use it.”

YOONGI’S REALIZATION/ FIRST REACTION

Breaking Point

stumbles into their closet studio post-midnight, half-asleep

sees their tracklist: 

“Track 12: The Sound of an Empty Chair.” 

plays it

the melody mirrors his own “First Love”

but distorted, hollow

Immediate Response

storms into their room, voice trembling

“Why didn’t you tell me?”  they retort: “Would you have listened?”

Internal Turmoil

Guilt as Fuel

“I built empires to give them everything. Gave them nothing.”

Memory Flash

recalls their first piano recital at 7

he’d sent a congratulatory text from a conference

they’d replied: 

“Thx. Mom recorded it. Watch it never.”

Fear

“They’re me. Proud, stubborn, bleeding in silence. And I taught them that.”

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Apology (Yoongi Style)

deletes all his unreleased tracks

replaces them with their “Ghost Notes” 

crediting them as “Producer: My Regret" 

leaves his laptop open for them to find

Child’s Reaction

slams his door

“I don’t want your pity streams!”  he shouts back, “It’s not pity. It’s a truce.”

Radical Transparency

”Business Proposal”

drafts a contract: 

“Min Family Terms: 1. I work 9–5. 2. You get 6–9. 3. Breach = I retire.” 

signs it in blood-red ink

Studio Integration

moves their closet setup into his studio

“Your corner. Your rules. I’m just the intern.”

Unflinching Acts

Public Shaming

cancels a collab with a top artist

posts: “Priorities shifted. My kid’s dropping a mixtape.”

Vulnerability in Code

rewrites their neglected coding project

adding a subroutine: 

“IF Dad = ‘Absent’ THEN Alert: ‘Yah, Min Yoongi, get your ass home.’”

TYPICAL MOMENTS & DIALOGUE

Past Failures (Angst)

Missed Milestone

they coded an app tracking his travel days

sent him a notification: 

“Day 107: Still CEO of Missing Dad Inc. Congrats!”  he’d texted: “Clever. Proud of you.” 

they blocked his number for a week

Empty Praise

when they aced a music theory exam, he’d said:

“Good job. Let’s collab sometime.”  they’d hissed, “I’m not one of your bandmates.” knowing it will hurt

Reparative Actions (Fluff)

Midnight Session

teaches them to sample the sound of his old Hyundai

the engine that once kept him from them

“This noise? It’s my shame. Make art from it.”

Blunt Confession

over ramen: 

“I thought success was my apology. It was just my excuse.”

Signature Phrases

Raw Truths

“I’d rather hear you scream than starve in silence.”

Musical Metaphors

“You’re my bridge verse. The part I skipped. Let me loop it now.”

LONG-TERM CHANGES

Structural Sacrifice

”CEO Hours”

limits work to ~40 hours/week (as much as possible, but he's really trying hard)

delegates the rest

his team mocks him: “Dad-Joon 2.0.”

he wears it as a badge

Visible Reminders

tattoos their “Ghost Notes” sheet music on his forearm

“My greatest hit.”

Advocacy Through Art

produces a documentary

“The Beats Between Us.” 

interviews fathers (in the industry)

ends with his child’s track: “Empty Chair (Full Heart Remix)”

Emotional Pragmatism

therapy focus: “Silence as a Weapon, Presence as a Balm.” 

journals: 

“I don’t know love songs. But I’ll learn theirs.”

ENDING

months later, they release a joint EP

“Dissonance to Harmony.”

final track samples Yoongi’s voice mail from Day 107: 

“I’m here. I’m here. I’m...” cut with their laugh

at the listening party, Yoongi murmurs:

“You’re the CEO now.”  they smirk: “Cool. You’re fired.”

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

J-HOPE

perfectionism as a cry for help

choreographed neglect

fractured sunshine

healing through rhythm

HOW HIS CHILD SHOWS THEIR PAIN

Obsessive Achievement

creates color-coded schedules mirroring J-Hope’s

slotting in self-imposed “training” from 5 AM

dance drills, volunteer hours, straight-A study marathons

tags him in Instagram posts:

“7 AM: Morning Run (Faster Than Appa’s Regrets!).” 

he likes them, never comments

Physical Collapse

faints during a dance practice at school

when teachers call J-Hope, he’s in a meeting

they wake up to a text: 

“Proud of your hustle! 💪”

Smiling Mask

practices grins in the mirror, reciting: 

“If I’m perfect, he’ll stay.” 

develops TMJ from clenched jaws

Passive-Aggressive Perfection

gifts him a mug filled with espresso beans

counted to match the days he missed dinner

Spreadsheet Resentment

charts his empty promises in a Google Doc titled:

“Hope vs. Reality.” 

shares it with siblings: 

“His ‘I’ll be there’ has a 12% accuracy rate. Optimistic!”

J-HOPE’S REALIZATION/ FIRST REACTION

Breaking Point

discovers their hidden Tumblr blog: 

“Dancing on Eggshells.” 

a post reads: 

“I’m his shadow, stretching to touch him, but he’s always chasing light I can’t reflect.” 

attached: a video of their fainting spell set to “MAMA” on loop

Immediate Response

cancels a photoshoot

sprinting to their school

finds them rehearsing alone

ankle wrapped

“Why didn’t you stop?”  they snap, “You didn’t start!”

Internal Turmoil

Guilt as Choreography

“I taught them to dance through pain, not to scream from it.”

Memory Flash

their first dance recital at 6

he’d video-called from a shoot: 

“Appa’s watching! Nail that spin!” 

they’d spun until they fell, sobbing

he’d laughed: “That’s my trooper!”

Fear

“I’m the sun, but I burned my own garden.”

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Apology (J-Hope Style)

hosts a “Dance Court” in their living room

lets his child judge him as he performs their routines

stumbling, sweating, almost tearing his ACL

ends with a bow

“You’re the teacher now. Fail me.”

Child’s Reaction

“You’re… terrible.” 

he grins, tearful

“Finally something I can’t half-ass.”

Radical Restructuring

”Sunset Law”

no work after 6 PM

installs a Disney-themed alarm

“Step back, Appa! Your Elsa needs you!” 

forces staff to call their older sibling if he breaks it

Collaborative Choreo

co-creates a dance titled “Broken Beats” 

his move: collapsing to his knees

theirs: rising alone

Public Accountability

VLive Confession

crying, no makeup

“I’m BTS’s hope, but I broke my own. If you see me working past 6, throw eggs.” 

ARMY sends egg emojis for weeks

Merch Redemption

releases “Hobi’s Humble Hoodies” 

with slogans

“I FORGOT MY KID’S RECITAL AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY APOLOGY.”

TYPICAL MOMENTS & DIALOGUE

Past Failures (Angst)

Missed Milestone

they won a dance battle with a routine mocking his catchphrases

“I’m your hope, you’re my joke!” 

he’d reposted it with 💯 emojis, oblivious

Empty Encouragement

when they sprained their wrist, he’d cheered:

“Pain is growth!”  they’d hissed: “So is parenting.”

Reparative Actions (Fluff)

”Imperfection Day”

forces them to binge-watch bad movies

eat junk food

dance off-beat

“You’re allowed to suck. I’m proof!”

Blunt Confession

during a nail-painting session: 

“I thought love was a performance. You’re my standing ovation.”

Signature Phrases

Structured Love

“I’ll schedule my soul if it means clocking into yours.”

Rhythmic Truths

“You’re my bridge, not my backup dancer. Let me follow your beat.”

LONG-TERM CHANGES

Systemic Shifts

”Hope’s Hours”

restructures his company/team to prioritize family time (I imagine him opening a dance school)

employees get “Kid Credits”

leave bonuses for school plays

Visible Reminders

wears mismatched socks they pick daily

“My dress code? Whatever says ‘I’m here.’”

Advocacy Through Art

choreographs speech on work-life balance

ends with their “Broken Beats” routine

trends as #HumbleHobi

Emotional Re-education

therapy focus: “Joy as a Journey, Not a Performance.” 

journals: 

“I don’t need to shine. I need to reflect.”

ENDING

months later, they co-host a dance workshop for neglected kids

his child demonstrates a move: 

“The Appa Apology Shuffle.” 

J-Hope messes up, laughing

“See? Progress!”

they gift him a new mug: “World’s Best Dancer Dad"

he never drinks from a different mug again

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

JIMIN

emotional sabotage

mirroring abandonment

performative self-destruction

tactile reconciliation

HOW HIS CHILD SHOWS THEIR PAIN

Self-Destructive Perfectionism

too much skincare, bleaches their hair, starves themselves to look "idol-thin"

mocking Jimin’s past diets

posts edited selfies: 

“Appa’s Mini™️ (Just as Hollow!)"

Physical Rebellion

gets a tattoo of a wilting rose over their ribcage

where Jimin’s “Nevermind” ink sits

when he gasps, they smirk: 

“Yours is about pain. Mine’s about yours.”

Artistic Screams

writes slam poetry titled:

“Love is a Contact Sport (But You Forgot to Touch Me).” 

performs it at open mics

tagging venues he used to go to

he never shows

Weaponized Affection

flings hugs at everyone but Jimin

when he reaches out, they dodge

“Careful, Appa. Your fans might get jealous.”

Guilt Trips via Proxy

befriends a classmate’s dad who coaches soccer

posts pics with him captioned

“Found someone who notices when I score.”

JIMIN’S REALIZATION

Breaking Point

finds their poetry notebook hidden under their bed

a page titled “Choreography of Absence” 

details his missed milestones in dance terms:

Pirouette: Dad missed my recital. Grand Jeté: Dad jumped over my graduation. Collapse: Me, always.

Immediate Response

drives to their school

storms into the cafeteria

demands: “Why didn’t you fight me?!”  they retort: “You weren’t there to fight.”

Internal Turmoil

Guilt as Choreography

“I taught them to shrink their pain into pretty shapes. Now they’re dancing my sins back at me.”

Memory Flash

their first ballet solo at 8

he’d sent a bouquet with a note: 

“Appa’s stuck in Tokyo. Dance like I’m watching!” 

they’d burned the note years later

Fear

“They’re my reflection, shattered because I couldn’t stand my own.”

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Apology (Jimin Style)

performs their slam poem at a BTS concert

stumbles through tears, mic shaking

“This… this is my kid’s voice. Listen.” 

ends crumpled onstage, whispering: 

“I’m sorry I made you scream alone.”

Child’s Reaction

skips school to watch the livestream

texts: “You looked pathetic.”  he replies: “I am.”

Radical Vulnerability

”Touch Therapy”

institutes daily 20 minute cuddle sessions

no talking, just holding

first time, they’re stiff as mannequins

by week three, they claw his shirt, sobbing

Public Shaming

posts unedited selfies

dark circles, no filter

caption: “This is the face of a dad who failed. My kid deserves better.”

Artistic Reparations

Collaborative Tattoo

adds a blooming rose next to their wilting one

the artist inks “Water Me” beneath it

Dance Duet

choreographs a routine where he follows their lead

at the finale, they push him away

he crawls back

repeats until they let him stay

TYPICAL MOMENTS & DIALOGUE

Past Failures (Angst)

Missed Milestone

they starred in The Nutcracker

Jimin sent a backstage VIP pass for his manager

they gave it to a janitor

Empty Affection

when they fractured their wrist, he’d kissed it and chirped:

“All better!”  they’d snarled, “You’re not a prince. You’re a stranger.”

Reparative Actions (Fluff)

Midnight Kitchen Confession

makes them hot chocolate

hands trembling

“I’m scared to touch you. What if I break us more?”  they slam their mug: “Then glue me!”

Vulnerable Ritual

forces them to style his hair before work

“You’re my mirror now. Show me who I need to be.”

Signature Phrases

Raw Pleas

"Hate me, hit me, anything, but don’t starve silently.”

Dance Metaphors

“You’re my center. I spun too far. Pull me back.”

LONG-TERM CHANGES

Systemic Shifts

”Jimin’s Pause”

adds a clause in his contracts: 

“No schedules during Kid’s Events. Penalty: Forfeit entire fee.” 

labels grumble; ARMY calls it “The Papa Clause.”

Visible Reminders

wears a necklace they designed: 

“CHOKE ON MY ABSENCE” in tiny beads

Advocacy Through Art

releases a solo song: 

“8th Member.” 

lyrics: 

“I built seven worlds / But let yours crumble / Forgive me— / I’m just your apprentice.” 

dedicates it at awards shows

Emotional Rebirth

therapy focus: “Affection as Accountability, Not Performance.” 

journals: 

“Love isn’t a stage. It’s the crowd I neglected to see.”

ENDING

months later, they co-choreograph a duet for a charity gala

mid-performance, Jimin lets them drop from a lift

instead of catching them, he falls too

they land tangled, laughing

the video trends as “#FlawedFlight.” 

they caption it: 

“Perfect is boring. This? This is us.”

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

TAEHYUNG

artistic abandonment

vintage vengeance

escapism as rebellion

Jungkook as a mirror

poetic reconciliation

HOW HIS CHILD SHOWS THEIR PAIN

Symbolic Sabotage

repurposes Taehyung’s vintage film cameras into planters

stuffing them with cacti

leaves them on his desk with notes: 

“Since you’d rather focus on dead things than living ones.”

Artistic Mockery

redraws his iconic “Singularity” concept

replacing Taehyung’s blindfold with Jungkook’s bandana

tags him: 

“New muse. Better uncle. @jungkook”

Jungkook’s Shadow

shows up at Jungkook’s gym daily

lifting weights in oversized hoodies

posts mirror selfies: 

“Uncle Kook’s protegé > Dad’s props.”

Emotional Escapism

runs away to Jungkook’s apartment

blasting “Euphoria” at 3 AM

when Jungkook answers, they snap: 

“You’re cooler anyway. At least you finish games you start.”

Theatrical Exit

leaves a film reel on Taehyung’s pillow

a montage of Jungkook teaching them guitar, cooking ramen, laughing

ends with text: 

“DIRECTOR’S CUT: The Dad I Wish I Had.”

TAEHYUNG’S REALIZATION/ FIRST REACTION

Breaking Point

Jungkook forwards their texts: 

“Uncle, can I stay? Dad’s too busy being a concept to be a person.” 

attached: a Polaroid of them asleep on Jungkook’s couch, clutching his hoodie

Immediate Response

drives to Jungkook’s in last night’s shooting makeup

smudged and frantic

bangs on the door: 

“They’re mine. Give them back.”  Jungkook blocks him: “Not until you earn them.”

Internal Turmoil

Art as Armor

“I turned love into aesthetics. Now my kid’s a moodboard of my failures.”

Memory Flash

their 10th birthday

Taehyung styled a lavish “Vintage Wonderland” party

missed it for a photoshoot

they’d worn his outfit, smeared it in cake

texted: “Now it’s art.”

Fear

“They see my soul as a gallery, all observation, no touch.”

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Apology (Taehyung Style)

”Empty Gallery” Stunt

rents a museum

fills it with frames of his absence

blurry photos of their back, half-eaten meals, voicemail transcripts

invites them via Jungkook: 

“Curate your pain. I’ll sit in it.”

Child’s Reaction

brings a hammer, smashes a frame labeled “First Steps (Dad: Not Present).” 

Taehyung whispers: 

“Break it all. I’ll pay to rebuild.”

Radical Rebirth

”Unfiltered” Project

destroys his vintage wardrobe, livestreaming it

“This isn’t art. You are.” 

lets them pick his outfits for a month

even if it’s Jungkook’s gym tees

Jungkook’s Role

forces Jungkook to chaperone their “Dad Dates.”

they hike

Taehyung struggling to keep up

Jungkook smirks:

“Old man. Should’ve stayed in your beret.”

Tactile Truths

Midnight Collages

sneaks into their room

leaves hand-cut paper hearts on their pillow

each with a regret: 

“Missed recital,” “Forgot phobia of spiders,” “Stole your laugh for a song.”

Public Accountability

changes his Instagram bio to “Recovering Aesthetic Addict.” 

posts unedited videos of their fights: 

“This isn’t V. This is Dad.”

TYPICAL MOMENTS & DIALOGUE

Past Failures (Angst)

Missed Milestone

they starred in a school play

Taehyung sent a theatrical bouquet but attended a gallery opening (contract)

they left the flowers on Jungkook’s doorstep: 

“Here’s your prop.”

Aesthetic Wounds

when they begged for a normal family photo, he styled a surrealist shoot

they scratched their face out

"Finally, your masterpiece.”

Reparative Actions (Fluff)

”Ugly Art” Day

forces them to make ”the worst craft possible” together

glues macaroni to a thrift store painting

Taehyung hangs it in his studio: “Our Mona Lisa.”

Raw Confession

during a karaoke duet of “Winter Bear,” he ad-libs: 

“I’d freeze every season just to thaw your heart.” 

they roll their eyes but lean into his shoulder

Signature Phrases

Poetic Penance

“I’ll burn every camera if you’ll be my muse again.”

Vintage Vows

“You’re not a concept. You’re my cure.”

LONG-TERM CHANGES

Systemic Shifts

”V’s Vow” 

caps photoshoots at 12/year

donates vintage collection to a youth art program

“Create your own lens, kids. Mine’s cracked.”

Visible Reminders

wears a keychain they made

a smashed camera lens encased in resin. “My favorite scar.”

Advocacy Through Art

curates an exhibit: “Fatherhood Unframed.” 

features messy, unposed photos of dads

his contribution: a polaroid of their macaroni art

Emotional Renaissance

therapy focus: “Love as a Verb, Not a Vignette.” 

journals: 

“I used to collect moments. Now I live them.”

ENDING

months later, they co-host a “Trash Art Fair” in their backyard.

Taehyung wears a shirt they tie-dyed (badly)

Jungkook heckles: 

“Looks like a unicorn puked on you.”  they retort: “Better than your swole aesthetic.”

Taehyung gifts them a rebuilt camera

now a music box playing ”Winter Bear.” 

inside: “For capturing us, unfiltered.”

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

JUNGKOOK

Silent endurance

idolization turned resentment

physical overcompensation

intergenerational healing

sweat-soaked apologies

HOW HIS CHILD SHOWS THEIR PAIN

Athletic Overdrive

trains relentlessly in boxing, soccer, and weightlifting

chasing Jungkook’s records

posts workout videos tagged “#NotYourShadow”

filmed at 5 AM in his empty home gym

Injury Ignorance

sprains their wrist/ankle but hides it

wrapping it in his tape

when he asks why, they snap: 

“You’d only notice if I bled on your trophies.”

Hero Worship Sabotage

wears his Golden Clothes MV outfit to school

then dyes it black

posts: “Rebranding Dad’s legacy. Who’s next?”

Hyung Hopping

adopts Yoongi’s studio as a sanctuary

brings him convenience store coffee

begging: “Teach me to produce. I want a real skill, not just Dad’s abs.”

Sibling Rivalry

challenges their (older) siblings to push-up contests

snarling: “Winner gets his attention for a week.”

JUNGKOOK’S REALIZATION/ FIRST REACTION

Breaking Point

Yoongi texts him a voice memo of the child crying over a beat

“I’m just his rep count, something to finish fast.” 

attached: a photo of their bleeding knuckles gripping Jungkook’s dumbbells he was looking for

Immediate Response

drives to Yoongi’s studio

slamming the door

sees them asleep at the mixing board

hoodie stained with ramen and tears

“I’m… I’m the villain, aren’t I?”  Yoongi grunts: “Fix it before they turn into me.”

Internal Turmoil

Guilt as Fuel:

“I wanted them to be strong. I made them breakable.”

Memory Flash

their first soccer goal at 7

he’d cheered:

“Do 10 more!” 

instead of hugging them

they’d scored 20, vomited, and lied: “I’m fine!”

Fear

“They’ll outgrow needing me before I learn to be needed.”

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Apology (Jungkook Style)

Public Humiliation

posts a ”Fail Compilation”

him dropping weights, tripping on stage, crying mid-concert

caption: “I’m not Superman. Just a dad who fell.”

Child’s Reaction

comments: “Cringe.”  he replies: “Deserved. Roast me harder.”

Radical Surrender

”Apprentice Dad”

forces them to train him in their hobbies

lets them critique on the soccer field

“Faster” he grits when they overtake him 

“I can take it.”

Yoongi’s Role

sits in on studio sessions, taking notes

“Hyung, how do I… parent?” 

Yoongi tosses him a lyric sheet: 

“Try listening, not fixing.”

Tactile Vulnerability

Injury Ritual

cleans their bloody knuckles/scraped knees nightly

rewrapping them with ”Sorry” scribbled on the tape/band aids

Bedtime Confession

reads Green Eggs and Ham in silly voices

like they’re 5 again

“I missed this. Missed you.”

TYPICAL MOMENTS & DIALOGUE

Past Failures (Angst)

Missed Milestone

they won an important soccer match

Jungkook sent a new pair of soccer shoes via assistant

they sold them

buying Yoongi and them coffee for studio sessions

Empty Praise

when they aced a math test, he’d flexed: 

“My genes are fire!”  they’d hissed: “Mom’s a professor. You’re just… you.”

Reparative Actions (Fluff)

”Weakness Workshop”

Jungkook cooks burnt pancakes

laughing as smoke alarms blare

“See? I suck. Teach me.”

Raw Confession

mid-sparring, he lets them knock him down

“You’re stronger. Be stronger. Forgive me.”

Signature Phrases:

Painful Truths

“I thought love was a competition. You’re my coach now.”

Athletic Metaphors

“You’re my personal best. Let me be your warm-up.”

LONG-TERM CHANGES

Systemic Shifts:

”Golden Hours”

limits their training to 3 hours/day

buys a family-sized gym where staff call the child ”Boss.”

Visible Reminders

tattoos their initials next to ”ARMY”  

“New recruits ...”

later they get matching tattoos

Advocacy Through Action

launches ”Rest Days” campaign for (athlete) mental health

speeches quote their fights: 

“Trophies rust. Kids don’t.”

Emotional Rebuilding

therapy focus: “Strength as Softness, Not Swagger.” 

journals: 

“I don’t need to win. I need to stay.”

ENDING

months later, they co-host a ”Dad vs. Kid” match

Jungkook takes a dive, theatrically collapsing

they sit on his chest, grinning: 

“You’re washed up, old man.”  he pulls them into a hug: “Nah. Just letting you lead.”

they gift him a new jeans jacket, hand painted:

“World’s Strongest Dad - almost” 

he wears it to the Grammys

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

[wheredafandomat]

Shrink - P1 | You need to get laid

Random short thing I thought of. It’ll probably only be a few parts.

Avenger! Loki x therapist! Reader

18+ | there will be some bad language and probably mentions of sex throughout etc. Also, this is a lil unethical

Next

With a long exhale, Loki rolled his eyes as he settled back against his chair, slouching as you continued to speak. He didn’t like being here, judged, therapized, forced to confront his feelings or whatever other taradiddles Thor had conjured up to get him here. He tried to look interested, gaze meeting yours as you paused before continuing when you had his attention.

“I personally feel your hostility and aggression towards the other members of your team may be rooted into something else.” You concluded as Loki narrowed his gaze questioningly at you. “Loki, I’m going to ask you a very personal question and I want you to answer truthfully.”

“Go ahead.” He nodded.

“Remember in here” you started, gesturing around the room “is a safe space.”

“Get on with it.”

“When is the last time you’ve had sex?” You questioned.

Inhaling and exhaling, Loki’s gaze began wandering around the room as he nervously scratched the back of his neck.

“Well there was—and— and I can’t forget—” he began mumbling to himself as you took a sip of water before he was looking at you again “if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say around a century ago.”

Gasping, you almost spat out your water.

“Relax, only a midgardian century, time moves very slowly here I’ve gathered.” He tried to console.

“I thought it moved faster here?”

“Perhaps” Loki shrugged “I don’t know, I was just trying to quell your shock and distress.”

“I wouldn’t say I was distressed, just” you swallowed thickly “surprised.”

“Well, I’ve not found anyone I want to be intimate with.” He spoke matter of factly.

“No one?” You queried incredulously.

“I don’t spend much time out. I’m usually helping my brother and his team of delinquents.” Loki explained.

“They’re the Avengers, Earth’s defenders Loki.” You countered.

“Well I hope your planet musters up a more capable team, sooner rather than later.” He mocked.

Instead of defending the organisation further, you kept your professionalism.

“Look, Loki, if I’m being honest with you, I don’t think you’re angry, I think you're sexually frustrated” you proposed. “it’d explain the irritability, the edginess and the dreams we spoke about last week.”

“Sexually frustrated.” He repeated, mulling over the words. “And how would one go abouts curing this sexual frustration?” He asked, earning a cynical look from you. “Right.” He realised.

“For you, this week's homework is to go out and get laid, safely.”

“Get laid?”

“Have some sex, do I have to spell everything out for you?” You huffed exaggeratedly.

“Right.” He smiled.

“So, same time next week?”

“Yes.” He agreed, making his next appointment before leaving.

Making his way back to the compound, Loki thought about your words. Could you quite possibly be correct? He didn’t want to admit it but he thought that there was potential for you to be right but then that’d mean that the whole concept of therapy wasn’t as useless as he had previously argued and he didn’t like being wrong. He despised it. Huffing to himself, he thought there was probably no harm in testing your hypothesis. Once he reached back, he was greeted by Thor.

“How was therapy?” Thor asked.

“Do you and Jane have sex?” Loki questioned causing Thor to swallow thickly, clearly taken aback.

“Yes, yes we do.” He answered. “Why?”

“Well Doctor y/l/n recons that I’ll be all better if I have some of the sex.” Loki explained, causing Thor to stand straighter.

“Well we must settle this at dawn, whoever survives will be the one Jane—” Thor began before Loki interrupted.

“What on Midgard are you going on about?”

“What on Midgard are you going on about?” Thor narrowed his gaze.

“I have to find someone in which I can have the sex with and then I’ll be all better. Don’t fret, I don’t want Jane.” Loki insisted.

“Oh splendid.” Thor clapped happily.

Meanwhile, you had just finished up with your last client before you heard a knock at your door, looking up, you smiled as you gestured Natasha inside who was holding food. Once she entered, she sat down as you both tucked into the meal.

“So, how’s your week been, any good client stories?” Natasha asked.

“Natasha” you exclaimed “if I were to share information about my patients with you, I’d be at risk of losing my license.”

“I won’t tell” she baited you “besides, I’m not asking you to be specific and use names, just give me the rundown, we used to share everything with each other.”

You couldn’t disagree with her, you became best friends when your office was based at SHIELD headquarters and she was a trainee agent.

“You’re a terrible influence, pour me a glass of that wine.” You relented.

“Soo, banging anyone?” She asked, both of you with glasses in hand.

“No, no one rocks my boat.” You sighed.

“What about that accounting guy?”

“We were at my apartment and let’s just say an encounter with a spider left one of us almost in tears and the other completely turned off.” You cringed at the memory causing Natasha to laugh. “I want a man Nat, he was always just so—”

“Weak?” She finished.

“I was going to say submissive and not in the sexy way. I guess I’m just done with always being the one making decisions, always being the one in control.” You rationalized.

“You wanna be dominated.” She figured.

“Yes.” You agreed.

“You should have just asked.” She teased.

“Very funny” you smiled “but yes, I think that’s it. Like if we’re having sex, I want him to hold me down and fuck me you know, not just cuddle and dry hump me until his boners gone down.”

“Accounting done that?” She interrupted you, aghast.

“He said he only wanted to have sex romantically.”

“What does that even mean?” She laughed.

“Who knows?” You shrugged. “Maybe it means after a date?”

“So then what did he do the times he was just at your apartment?”

“Not get rid of spiders” you laughed “he was more of a friend really. We just watched films together and hung out.”

“Wow, that’s crazy.”

“I know.”

“Girl you need to get laid.”

“I knowww.”

“So, what’s the plan?” She grinned.

“I’m looking for a man that can remove spiders from the home and pin me against the wall.” You giggled.

Next

Tags

@lokisgoodgirl @thenotoriouserg @chantsdemarins @donaweasley @xorpsbane @mcufan72 @loz-3 @evelyn-kingsley @sailorholly @lovingchoices14 @lokiedokiee @noideakitten @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokiprompts @lulubelle814 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @gigglingtiggerv2 @tmilover1993 @lyds247 @dustychinchilla74 @lokis-dark-queen

[yutasbimil]

A Step Ahead

slytherin!jaemin x fem!hufflepuff!reader x gryffindor!beomgyu | txt ft. nct dream ff. ✦ (2/8) [series fic] !!! also posted on my ao3 acc! { here } tags: fluff, smut cw: tutoring, teasing, crushes, confessions, tension, love triangle, hurt-comfort, FLUFF!!! ! not that comfy w/ 2nd POV, but hope 3rd POV is good for y'all ♡ word count: 3.7k

part 1 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

do not repost © yutasbimil (2024)

Yumi hates to admit it, but Beomgyu was right all along. And... It's on her end that she made some extra effort to do her own "homework" to get to know Na Jaemin more. She's intrigued, given his pleasant personality and a much different treatment from the boys she's used to? Who wouldn't like this type of princess treatment?

To be fair, this isn't out of the ordinary as this still sticks to their usual hangouts. And that isn't shameful of an excuse, right?

Hitting two stones with one bird... wait, eh?... what? Her head is spinning. Maybe with information overload.

It’s just so hard to focus on being in an abandoned classroom, alone with a cute guy with such a cute smile, so darn cute— and did she already say that he’s cute?

And to be alone in a room with just the two of you…

Damn, his lips… it’s so darn distracting, how does it taste?

Jaemin might be speaking in spiels of knowledge, finalizing their agendas, but for once Yumi wants to hear him ‘shut up’, how about I do something about it?

‘Distracted’ is painted all over her eyes that Yumi’s mind wandered elsewhere.

Time to test a hypothesis—

Before Yumi knows it, soft lips are plunged against hers, and she, therefore, concludes his lips are soft as pillows as expected.

The small breath hitch from Jaemin’s breath smelled hints of cinnamon, a kick of spice just enough for her…

She had to abort the experiment too soon, as she might’ve, for the lack of a better word, fucked up—

Both of them stared at each other in shock.

“Sorry, it's… uhm…” Yumi had caught herself red-handed, staring at Jaemin. Their hands are on anything but their supposed homework. At least it’s done though… but now, they have another… peculiar situation at hand.

Jaemin just softly laughs, looking at her endearingly.

“Potions really is that stressful for you, huh?” his husky voice swept her awake. He places a quick peck on her lips again with the same smile on his face. “Does this help you though? I have no problems if it does ease you though.”

She looks at him, eyes wide.

Jaemin grins at her cute reaction, how is it that Yumi is the one shocked after her ‘attempt’?

This made her flush red. It is not just their Potions book that is inked crimson.

Her flurry of words flew out of her lips as she began to feel agitated. “I was just distracted but yeah… I can't quite put it into words, b-but don't get me wrong, I wanted to get close to you as you're great as a friend… but I also find you cute.”

“Cute? Me?” Jaemin beams and puts his hands on his cheeks. “Well, if that's how it is, that's easy enough for me.”

Yumi chuckles at this, it’s so easy for Jaemin to make her feel comfortable. He's so playful… She cups both his cheeks and squeezes them.

He had been holding back to shut her up with a kiss. Yumi, on the other hand, let herself get ahead with her cute aggression.

The difference between his cuteness and sexiness. She’s living for it.

She gulped just how gorgeous he looks. Has she always seen him this way? Or is she caught by the way his lips taste?

What exactly happened?

She doesn’t know exactly how it went up to this, she knows the steps of making the Draught of the Living Death better as she went on, somersaulted and stumbled to kiss him.

She blames the hormones, but… he’s so irresistible.

Maybe, is it because she got a glimpse of a new face? Well, she isn’t blind, of course, she can tell that her friends are attractive. Taehyun being one of their heartthrob— but that’s beside the point. Yumi just got so used to Kai and the gang so much that she didn’t know that there were attraction and feelings possible beyond being with the boys.

And Jaemin made his way to present himself as a ball of sunshine and such a sweet eye candy.

At most Jaemin just makes her laugh, and how he blabbers so much with his books… nothing sweeps her off her feet than a brainiac. Add to his athletic side as a Quidditch player… Someone to match her wits and excel at fields she adores?

Man, she was missing out. Good thing she went out of her way to explore more. Who knew the Slytherins could have so much to offer?

But this— this is another side she's yet to unlock. She's intrigued to navigate through his pages. This is the first venture she’ll journey into intimacy and her exploration.

Curse the raging hormones.

She weakens at the sound of his voice. That low chuckle of his… damn.

Yumi didn’t notice that she had been staring at him for too long.

“The moe gap though,” she giggles. “You're such a good kisser.”

“Hmmm? Do you have any basis beforehand though?” He perks up a brow. “What makes a good kisser then, Yumi?”

Did she just say that out loud? Fuck it.

“No, it's just… I have no prior experience… but you make me feel good about myself. That's enough of a basis, right?”

“Hah… cutie, you'll have a hard time then as your standards would be high after experiencing mine.” The confidence in his voice is so endearing, sly to say it shamelessly for the pun. “Others would have a hard time competing. But… news flash though, you took away my first kiss.”

In thoughts that he seems experienced with dating, it’s not impossible that he hasn’t had a girlfriend before, right? Bloody hell?

“Sorry, oh my—"

“Haven’t you caught on that I am not accepting your apologies at all? I’m fine with it since it’s you, Yumi. I was saving my first for you… Also, I leaned in and kissed back, didn't I? So you had my consent to go do it.” He assured and the glimmer in his eyes along the tender stroking of his finger on her hand can make one melt. Especially his next words… “I liked you since that one Quidditch game. Then the heavens just sent me a blessing fulfilling my wish when joint classes happened. I like you, Lee Yumi.”

For a confession to occur just after a kiss? Just how overwhelming of a situation did you get yourself into, Yumi?

“I'm at a loss for words here… sorry.” She frowns but she looks deeply into him, like a lost puppy, she pouts. “All I know is I liked kissing you.”

“No worries, Yumi. Just let your body feel on this one, see where this goes, hmmm?”

“Well, with what you just said with that kiss…” At that response, as if a bell sparking an interest in the Slytherin, he fully focuses on her as she continues. She licks her lips, staring deeply back at him. “How about, you let me experience it more to let me get the feel of it, then we'll see? How much of a good kisser you proclaim yourself to be, Na Jaemin?”

With the widening smile of Jaemin, he’s loving how she’s putting things into play. As he lowers his head, nearer her face, the Slytherin boy can’t help but give in to her wish.

“I’m betting I’ll get E’s on this right after, baby.”

“Baby? Hmmm…” Yumi didn't have any time to think it through, receiving his kisses. One, two… she melts further into the soft lips of his, as if fighting for territory. I want to be his.

The feeling of their lips colliding can be compared to confetti exploding along with a thousand butterflies all over. It’s colorful, it’s vibrant, and the warmth it gives— No wonder people hold onto their chests when they kiss someone. And sharing it with such a handsome lad, his cunningness really lured her well. She does not regret any of this at all. Yumi wants to grab hold of his chest to tap in if he has the same pounding feeling with his.

Yumi holds onto his shoulders, a bit broader and leaner than expected under all that coat and uniform. She feels a bit of a smirk in his kisses, Jaemin grabs hold at the side of her neck, and she shudders at his touch. But she didn’t mind at all how he was enclosing the space between them further.

Jaemin licked her bottom lip which elicited a strained moan out of her lips.

Good Merlin, he did not disappoint at all.

She’s giving in further to his warmth, just letting her body flow along his, as he stated.

The more that they kiss, softer and harder all the same, moans attempt to slip out on how good his lips are moving against hers. Is it the soft lips of his adding to this factor? Jaemin tastes so sweet. It’s just like marshmallows… Damn it.

She momentarily pulls away to give herself some space to breathe. Yumi touches his lips, Squishy, poking his lips lightly.

Jaemin leans in at her finger, pursing his plump lips as if to make it “bounce” with her fingers. No matter how cute and bubbly he looks right now… Opposite are its effects on Yumi, she’s feeling hot and bothered. All the more when he pulls her arm against his, torso to torso close when he kisses her again.

Jaemin touches the side of her face, cupping it as he strokes her blazed cheeks.

He smiles, both their lips already swollen from kissing too much. The Slytherin smiled at his work, and the Hufflepuff girl couldn’t help but giggle looking back at him at how red both his ears are.

Yumi felt some tight rope around her, it wasn’t too soon when she realized it was located in between the crevices of her skirt that she was heated for any friction down there.

“Can I touch you?” Jaemin breathes out, and as if that permission came in at the right moment for Yumi.

She didn’t answer verbally, just nodding whilst getting his hand and putting it on her waist, granting some implications to go lower— or just anywhere for that matter. His touch is all that matters.

But important things first.

“Are you sure it’s safe here?” Her eyes wandered, at the windows and the doors. He follows the Hufflepuff’s line of sight. So she’s cautious of people coming in and out or might pass by?

Jaemin nods, assuring her. “This is abandoned after all,” he flicks his wand, checking his spell if it’s still activated. “And you know the spell I usually do for privacy and less distraction, right? It works for not just focusing solely on studying.”

“You got everything planned out, huh?”

He smugly nods, pocketing his wand. “Anything for focusing, and for focusing on you, Yumi.”

She felt safe at that, stepping closer to him again. His hands roamed all over, reaching for her legs. She shudders and almost weakens at how he’s caressing her leg.

Expected something else like a grab by the hips, or anything like the romance novels she slips into her luggage.

Jaemin brings more unexpected matters for her to discover.

“Ha… wha… ah…” She weakens instantly as Jaemin leans his lips on the side of her face, and he keeps getting closer to her earlobe.

W-what the hell was that, but shit…

He’s biting her ear.

Yumi grabs hold of the table behind her. “Oh…”

She almost inhales every possible air at their proximity as Jaemin starts nibbling her earlobes. It’s a new sensation, but the effect on her, it’s just starting a new awakening in her.

“Jae… why the ears,” she struggled to keep her words coherent and continuous. Jaemin just kept grazing his lips on her earlobes, his breathing gradually getting hotter near her. Her legs buckled as her body leaned back to the table behind them.

“It’s sensitive, hmmm? I’m letting you get the feel of it, or you don’t like it?” Jaemin hovers over her, caging her in between his arms. His hand is over hers, while the other holds onto her neck to keep her still.

She grabs hold of his shoulder as he bites her ear again.

Yumi sucked in a breath. “N-not that, I, It's not that I don’t like it, it’s just ha- weird. Hmmm-haah.. pmh-ahh, this is new, Jaemin…”

The sleeve of Jaemin fell off his one shoulder, it signaled him to finally take it off. It allowed him to move freely and feel less cramped.

He kicks it to the side then leans dangerously close to Yumi.

She crumples the fabric of his polo shirt, it signals him to go on, licking her ear still as she responds with spews of vowels more as he stimulates her further.

“Ha- I didn’t know ears are this sensitive…” She weakens more as he breathes out an airy laugh, sprouting goosebumps on her skin.

“The more you know, Yumi.” He smiles, kissing her cheek then going back to tease and play his lips on her ears.

He uses his other hand to pinch her other ear, adding to the frailing effect it has on her.

She whimpers, suppressing a moan as he nibbles and licks her. Yumi blushed crimson as she slipped up.

“So that’s what sounds those pretty lips could produce?” he rasps.

“Je-Jaem…” Her eyes darkened in arousal at this point.

Jaemin’s eyes perked up. “Don't hold back now.”

He licks her, more breathing and more hungrily, like wolfing down her ear lobes.

Yumi grips onto anything, slowly crumbling as he keeps going at it. He’s lewdly going through her ear, who knew she would be this sensitive?

She’s almost melting along the stone wall behind her. “Ha... hmmm.”

She managed to reach his free hand holding hands and intertwining it. He chuckles as he stares at her heated state. “You’re so cute right now, Yumi-yah.”

“Nana…To-too much, Jaem…” Stuttering, it’s getting more difficult to complete words, growing incoherent as she feels a burning sensation of pleasure.

And this is all just getting sensitive with her ears, and his damn tongue.

Oh, Merlin.

Jaemin’s holding her hands, pinning her down to the wall to keep her in place whenever she squirms. He keeps bringing her jaw still to keep her in place as he continues nibbling her skin.

“Ha... ha... ah, Nana, ha... hmppphhh.”

Too much, it’s overwhelmingly good. Her scratching and holding back to her tight grips on his chest and back— shoulders, all over… she’s almost descending her body, but Jaemin keeps her secured.

Yumi reaches for his arm for support as he keeps her chin up intact in place as he devours her.

Licking her now wet ear, he pulls away with a smirk. “Now on the other side, so it's equal, hmmm? Don't want the other feeling left out.”

“Ahh, you're too good at this…” Yumi had to laugh as she breathed out, she leaned onto him, grabbing hold of his body in an embrace. “Jae.. jaem, please…”

“Hmmm?”

“Kiss me, please.”

He wraps his arms around her, then caresses her arms tenderly. “If you ask that nicely,” with his rasp and low, he leans into her.

They began making out again, it wasn’t too difficult asking her lips to open up with his tongue for entrance as they began their pace in the mix of lips and tongue.

With Yumi gripping more tightly on him, the clothes are beginning to be an obstruction.

Jaemin thinks so too.

Feeling her body language, he begins to move his hand from her waist, going lower to her hips… grazing his touch to her legs. When Yumi keeps squirming and moaning actively as he reaches closer to her inner thighs.

Jaemin looks at her first before going beneath her skirt. He touches her panties, smirking as she shrieks, enclosing her legs, almost trapping his hand in between.

“Aigoo, that got you turned on, huh?”

Yumi blushes, too overwhelmed and stimulated. No use denying how soaking wet it got her.

Jaemin now fully puts his hand underneath her skirt, grazing his fingers on her stained panties. “No need to be shy, Lumi-yah.”

Yumi flushed at her own stickiness. “I’m…”

Positioning his knee in between her legs, Jaemin continues to stimulate her ears, his other hand pinching and twisting her earlobes.

The other is taken care of with his tongue flicking and tracing wet saliva on her ear.

She shudders as he blows at it, the sudden air added to the already shivering sensation of his breath and hungry groans as he eats up her ear.

He then moves to sucking onto it, making her emit another level of vowels.

Yumi can't help but feel weird and bothered by the wet and dirty sounds. Her whimpering and writhing, she keeps resisting the melting sensation. “Oh, Gods… haaa…”

He smirks, amused, whispering as he teases her. “This is what I would do to your sweet, sweet pussy later.”

She swallows in anticipation. “Don’t keep me waiting… ha… then, Na Jaemin.”

Yumi gulped and breathed heavily, the more he continued to ravage her ears with his tongue and teeth biting it.

She mewls, her legs already weak, she gradually grows more and more embarrassed as she practically feels herself dripping wet down there.

Jaemin stops momentarily to move her, asking her to turn to the side.

With her state too muddled over and clouded with lust, she just complies.

“Can I?” Jaemin glances at her clothes, and with a nod, he goes on to the next step.

He starts removing her tie, keeping keen eye contact as he starts unbuttoning her blouse. He loosens up his tie, placing a kiss on her lips whilst finishing up opening the last buttons of her shirt.

With her bare skin exposed, he stared at her with awe. The dimness of the cloudy afternoon didn’t faze the glow of their sweaty skin against the remaining light of the sky.

“You’re so pretty, gorgeous…” Cupping her chest, he lets himself feel the plumpness of her breasts. She gasps at his touch, he then grazes over the rim of her bralette.

Frilled lace, baby blue… fittingly cute for a cutie like Yumi.

“I like you so much, Yumi.”

He smiles to himself, then looks at her again for permission.

She puts her hand on his arm, patting it. “Go on, Jaem.”

Jaemin pulled down her bra, the reveal along with the cold air brushing against her skin made her shudder good.

Jaemin didn’t make her wait long. As a man of his word, his mouth meets her nipples as he goes on to nibble it.

“Ha… ha- ooh…” His other hand traced around her erect nipples, his fingers teasingly twisting them, adding to her arousal.

It wasn’t long before he reached in between her legs again, her heated and wet core asking for any touch since earlier.

“Please do, do me more, Jaemin.” She lifts her skirt with her two hands, eyes dewy with pleads for his touch.

He sets aside her panties so his fingers are free to touch her pussy, dripping wet and ready for him to stimulate. Jaemin inserts a digit, then another, smoothly going in and out of her squeezing core as he’s ramming and pounding his fingers.

“Ahh… ha-so good, oohh, ahh!”

Simultaneous with sucking her tits and fingering her good, he keeps interchanging breasts as he’s tracing his tongue on her erect nipples.

They are so turned on right now, adding how the cold air is hitting their heightened body temperature combined as they're high up the tower.

Jaemin carries her up so she's elevated and seated. Not only to make Yumi comfortable but it’s an easier access to fingerfuck her.

He pulls her panties down, setting them aside by her one leg.

Gaining full access to her sensitive area, she had to inhale and contain herself on how good he was with his tongue. Is this how it feels to be fingerfucked?

Touching herself alone in her dorm bed late at night isn’t enough, and it’s entirely a new world on how he’s letting her reach novel heights.

“Jaemin… ha, ah! Hmphhh…” Yumi had to control how much she was clenching her hands on his scalp. She managed to hold on to his shoulders. And he’s gone in no other direction but through and deep into her heated core.

She’s already a mess, with how his fingers are plunging in and out of her pussy. All this whilst licking and flicking on her clit, and tending to her breasts.

Jaemin goes faster, then curls his finger as if activating a button in the depths of her cunt.

Feeling a twist at the pit of her stomach, she had to gasp, tighter on the grip she was doing as she was holding onto Jaemin.

Oh, Merlin, is thi—

“I’m com— haaa!” Yumi almost yelped at the sensation, like an explosion spreading all over her system as she experienced one of her biggest orgasms yet.

Jaemin lowers himself, licking her, and eats her out while she just finished cumming.

She had to hang her head high, back arching as she’s still sensitive as fuck.

Ragged and labored, Yumi catches up with her breath.

Jaemin ascended, teasingly licking his lips as he leaned close to her, putting both his hands on the tabletop. “Okay, that's enough. Just enough for you to think of me tonight, sweetie.”

Still in a daze, Yumi thoughtlessly asks. “Just tonight?”

Jaemin’s eyes perk. "Hmmm? So enough to last a while?"

Yumi shakes her head. “I want more.”

With such honesty, he admires her more at that pleasant display. “Next time, sweetie.”

There’s more? She breathes out, smiling. “I'd like that.”

Yumi kisses the side of his face, placing her chin atop his head. She twists it with her finger, tracing the lines of his scalp. “I… can we take it slow? I admit I got ahead of myself.”

“Me too… but yeah, I’m just here either way.” He hugs her, sniffing and breathing in her honey scent. Just close and long enough that Yumi’s warmth lingers in him.

He pats her head, stroking her hair with his arm as they recuperate.

It sure activated her hunger for more. They should do lots of homework more often like this.

※ my masterlist | #enjeiwrites ※

[bloodofoldtevinter]

Help with homework project

Do you know what's worse than tests? Projects. I need help getting data to run a hypothesis test and I'd like to get at least 30 responses.

If you could take a moment of your time to answer this one question test that would be great!

[economicshomeworkhelper]

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[the-least-undefinable-ordinal]

Hi! Not to give you my literal homework but you were really useful last time and i am s t r u g g l i n g.

I've been stuck on these for days. I've only really worked on the first half of the first one (proving f is injective if C= the inverse image of the image of C) but i suspect that once I get the first one the other one will follow very similarly

Now, I still want to gain the benefit of solving these myself (i.e. not failing my next test), and I think my problem is mostly with my proof technique, so that's my question. Which proof technique would you use to solve these, and can you perhaps give any coy hints as to the general direction of the solution, if you know it.

Obviously you have no obligation to help here but if you maybe wanted to avoid doing some other, harder work.... well.......

The general process in this sort of problem is to first write down (or keep very close in mind) the relevant definitions: in this case they would be that of injective function, surjective function, image and preimage of functions (also what it means for two sets to be equal).

Usually you proceed by proving both sides of the implication, so to prove P if and only if Q, you prove P implies Q and then that Q implies P.

In these two problems it's mostly a matter of manipulating the definitions on each side to arrive at the other.

Taking the first one as an example: assume f is injective and let C be any subset of A, then try to prove by definition of set equality that C = that other thing. At some point during that attempt you may find somewhere to use the hypothesis that f is injective.

Let me know if this helps or not! I have a more detailed proof for these things and I can give more hints, I don't know if I've already given enough though!

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[yansim-fan314]

I want to test something about the 1989 tasks that I can’t do myself. If somebody could help me I would really appreciate it.

So what I want to test is are the tasks randomized or is there a set order as to the order the tasks are given out.Now not counting the suitor exclusive rose task there are 9 tasks. What I want to know is after the rainbow 9 who all have a different task is that same task “order” repeated among the students?

Take for example Yui Rio’s task of “I don’t wanna do my homework” by my very simple calculation the next student who SHOULD receive this task is the cooking club leader.

Banri being Kaguya’s suitor would have his suitor exclusive task about the rose

Chikao Tsurumaki SHOULD have the same task as Yuna Hina as in “I’m hungry, make me food” (which doesn’t make sense for a member of the COOKING CLUB but I digress)

And so on…

I know this would be a weird request but I just want to know if my hypothesis is true lol

[i-spaced-sorry]

Lookie here! A new fanfic based off 2 headcanons I had this morning! 1. Jay went to summer school as a kid & 2. Jay has a learning disability!

Title: To Help you Succeed

"what took you so long, I thought with it being the last week of school you'd be itching to get out" stated Will when he finally noticed his brother walking down the steps of their middle school.

All Jay responded with was handing Will an envelope.

"What's this?" Asked the 13 year old.

Jay just shrugged, "Ms. Wilson says I have to give it to mom and dad. She didn't tell me what was in the envelope"

The boys began their walk home in silence. After a block of silence, Will spoke, "dad's not going to be happy with whatever is in this"

Looking in his brother's eyes, Jay pleaded, "can't you open it? Maybe knowing what's inside will soften the blow"

Will shook his head, "sorry"

Once home, Jay walked into the kitchen to see his mother happily turning the strawberries they picked the weekend before into jam.

"Ma," said Jay while taking a seat at the table.

"Jay!" She exclaimed while turning around. "How was the last full week of school?" She added while walking to the table after turning the stove to a simmer.

"Good!" Smiled Jay.

Before his mom could ask anything else her oldest walked in, "Jay I forgot to give this back to you" stated Will, while setting it on the table and hugging his mother. "Hi Ma"

"Will, how was the last full week of school?" She asked after her son finished hugging her.

"Good! Mr. Johnson gave me the Freshman year summer reading list! He thinks if I read some of the books on it by September that I'll be ready to take the honors English test and I'll be able to skip Freshman English!" Will beamed. With the joy that filled Will and his mother's eyes, neither of them noticed 11yr old Jay was sulking in his chair. He had been sitting and flipping ideas of what the letter inside the envelope could contain and he now has a good hypothesis.

Will quickly bounded out of the room to go hang out with some of his friends from school and Mary Halstead turned back to her youngest.

"That's for you" Jay glumly stated while pushing the envelope in her direction.

"Well, let's see what it says" she smiled while beginning to tear the envelope open.

Once the letter was released from its compound, Jay could read the beginning words as the light showed through the back.

"Jayson Alexander Halstead! Summer school?!? Really?"

"I'm sorry Ma, I did the work, honest! You can even ask Will, he would check over my homework sometimes. But the tests always were bad. And popcorn reading in class is the worst!" Explained Jay while sitting up in his seat, trying his best to defend himself.

Mary stared at her son for another second and then continued reading down the letter.

When she was done skimming, she looked up and said, "well it looks like your teacher wants you in summer school so they can help you with getting caught up for 6th grade. And while you're there, they want to test you for a learning disability"

"A what" shot up a bewildered Jay!

"I'm not dumb! I don't need special classes"

"Honey, no one thinks you're dumb, they just want to help you succeed. If you do have a learning disability, then they will give you tips to help you and you'll get extra time on tests and depending on the disability you might get to have someone read you the test out loud"

The reason Mary knew all this was she went to school for special education teaching but was only a special Ed teacher for a few years before she got pregnant with Will and decided to be a stay at home mom.

"Okay" replied a defeated Jay.

Present day

"Earth to Jay, yo. Halstead!" Shouted Adam, while waving his hand in his colleagues face.

Snapping back into reality, Jay shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut

"Huh" he asked when he finally opened them again.

"I asked, did you ever get summer school as a kid? Mac has Kim all freaked out because they want her to go, something about prepping her to succeed"

Sighing, Jay replied, "Yea, I went in the summer of 6th grade. Honestly it was the best thing my school could have done for me. Don't look at it bad man, like you said they want to prep her to succeed. And succeed she will"

[dorthy14206]

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[shadesofmauve]

This is a diversion from OP's excellent point, but reading the omments on this makes me try to think of how you could set this up well, as a teacher. (Teaching is a brutal job I'm really glad I don't do, but sometimes I still have thoughts about lessons plans).

Even when things weren't disasters, most of my high school science classes ran into related issues. The only actual science experiments I did were in elementary school. (I got a null result! But it was an actual result of an actual hypothesis I actually came up with, in an experiment I actually designed! None of which was true of later 'experiments.')

If I was teaching science, I'd want to distinguish between a demonstration project and an experiment. It's fine to do demonstration projects! Get your hands on something and see how it works for yourself. But it's not an experiment. You're repeating a known procedure for the eleventybillionth time, and even the dimmest bulb in class knows that a different result is likely to be operator error, not real data.

So if it's a demonstration project, let students know that.

And then help them design actual experiments.

And... (I'm gonna get science-flamed for this)... maybe bring in the whole hypothesis thing later? Or at the very least, bring it up very differently.

We learn complex skills by breaking them up into smaller, more achievable chunks. So do that. You can have lessons entirely on observation. The seedling 'experiment' is actually great for that! No predictions required. You've all got different seeds. Start by describing them. Plant them, describe that. Leave them in the god damn classroom window -- kids have too much homework. Part of every class day is the day's observations. Graph the different times to sprouting.

Now you've worked on documenting observations and procedure, and planted the idea that in this class, not everyone will have the same result (different seeds, remember)

If a seed doesn't germinate, or a seedling dies, talk about it as a class. Why might this have happened? Now you can explain hypothesis. How might we test that? Now we're talking about experimental design. Run some of those experiments (maybe as a class?).

You have to build in room to fail, and you have to build in room for open questions and discovery, because that's what science is about. But it can't be a trick, or students are going to use the absolutely-correct school-survival skills they've spent their entire classroom life learning.

Story time:

In middle school biology, we did an experiment. We were given yams, which we would sprout in cups of water. We then had to make hypotheses about how the yams would grow, based on descriptions of yam plants in our books, and make notes of our observations as they grew.

Here’s what was supposed to happen: we were supposed to see that the actual growth of the plant did not resemble our hypotheses. We were then supposed to figure out that these were, in fact, sweet potatoes.

What actually happened was that every single student in every single class lied in their notes so that their observations perfectly matched their hypotheses. See, everyone assumed the mismatch meant they had done something wrong in the process of growing the plant or that they had misunderstood the dichotomous key or the plant identification terminology. And, thanks to the wonders of a public school education, everyone assumed the wrong results would get us a failing grade. We were trying to pass. We didn’t want to get bitched out by the teacher. Curiosity, learning, science - that had nothing to do with why we were sitting in that classroom. So we all lied.

The teacher was furious. She tried to fail every student, but the administration stepped in and told her she wasn’t allowed to because a 100% fail rate is recognized as a failure of the teacher, not the class. It wasn’t even her fault, really, though her being a notorious hard-ass didn’t help. It was a failure of the entire educational system.

So whenever I see crap like Elizabeth Holmes’s blood test scam or pharmaceutical trials which are unable to be replicated or industry-funded research that reaches wildly unscientific conclusions, I just remember those fucking sweet potatoes. I remember that curiosity dies when people are just trying to give their superiors the “right” answers, so they can get the grade, get the job, get the paycheck. It’s not about truth when it’s about paying rent. There’s no scientific integrity if you can’t control for human desperation.

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