#NOT THE POV CAM NOW

[scarefox]

[emilyjunk]

"Kevin isn't that bad it's not like he beats her, why does she need to kill him or fake her death, just get divorced" you are the point of the show, you are missing the crucial reveal. Allison sees Kevin in every single scene as she does their last scene together, but we as the audience aren't privy to that and we only see sitcom Kevin which is Kevin's self perception. He is not suddenly becoming scary and threatening to her. He was like that the whole time. We only see Allison's feelings about Kevin and the aftermath of her interactions with Kevin -- this is the ONLY time we see Kevin from her POV except for the brief initial breaking of the sitcom cam. Every other time we see Kevin on screen it's from Kevin's POV. Even after she cuts her hand we only see the bandage in her singular pov when she is away from kevin, but when it shifts back to sitcom Kevin it's gone.... We do not see the reality of her interactions with Kevin, that's the point of the show!!! Because when Kevin is on screen, it's Kevin's world! We only see Kevin from anyone else's lens in ONE scene at the end, which is when Allison decides to leave, so yes the sitcom cam "softens his abuse" but it also just fully acts as an unreliable narration because we never literally see Kevin from anyone else's POV until the series finale so every time Kevin is on screen it isn't even an accurate portrayal of what's happening, it's Kevin's perception of what's happening. Allison has viewed him like that the entire show, we as the audience just did not get to witness that POV until the end

[qroier]

bagi wasted no time asking melissa for her number

[shesmore-shoebill]

When i say amangela pining rpf au, and SPECIFICALLY, amanda pining rpf au, know that this is what im thinking about.

Like, with Angela as A and Amanda as B. The opposite is ALSO very good and i have no objection to it but i think theres something so delicious about. Amanda as a straightforward communicator and Angela as someone who pays very close attention to her friends and Would prioritize their feelings over hers, in this scenario.

Angela in a sort of "well this wouldn't happen anyways" state who is so in love but has learned how to manage vs Amanda absolutely getting slammed with her emotions and going "oh fuck". and like. As a big believer in being open and honest with people she cares about she is Not Going To Lie About It, holy shit!! She HAS to talk to Angela about it wtf. But she is going to lose her mind for a bit first.

anyway thats my vision. 👌

[broodygaming]

I've seen prob like hundreds of hours of the Simmers of Twitch playing Among us by now so as an expert /s on sabotage games

FCG and Imogen would be the gaslighters and good at it, big braining each emergency meeting and self reporting and getting away with it

Chetney would stack kill, cmon. and get caught every time

Fearne would stack kill, get away with it by loudly screaming sus on someone else and self reporting. Also she'd be QUEEN of the driveby kill

Ashton would kill on electrical, hanging out in the corner while sabotaging and chatting with whoever else wanders in if their cooldown is still cooldowning

Orym would be so good at the vents, quick guilty kills, no marinating, just business and GONE

Laudna would be the chatty imposter, not doing a lot of kills but rly good at pulling focus and giving time for their partner to get three in a round

[fearforthestorm]

#i nomated 100 dmv legundo to the sexyman poll but i guess they missed mine 😔 #god i need to rewatch that series #but where does the name decem and the lore of them missin someone come from? ive literally watched every 100 days please Help

@ghost-town-dwellers hope you don't mind me answering this in its own post: both the name and that lore come from various books and things hidden in the hardcore s2 world download!

saying this from such a place of love for the series, but unfortunately there's a lot of lore that is a couple layers deep, and you would never see if you weren't also elbows-deep in the fandom. and that's not even counting everything that gets dropped casually on streams and never brought up again - I'm halfway working on making a proper lore documentation file with sources and clips, but it's not even remotely anywhere near done. 100dmv my beloved, why are you such a goddamn spiderweb of lore that's impossible to enjoy casually without missing vital bits of the story </3

[gyuswhore]

Statistically Speaking...

part of the svt TA collab

kim mingyu x reader

word count: 21k

contains: TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [minors DNI], angst, statistics, ur honour they're stupid for one another, descriptions of stress exhaustion and burnout, academic burden, disagreements, mingyu is smart as hell, shitting on bad professors, smut but its a surprise [gyu gets his soul sucked while he's reciting statistical models I mean what]

words of conviction from @highvern: Kim Mingyu, total asshole , 1-800-HOT N DUMB , THEYRE IN LOVE MINGYU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LOSER , sick fucking freak , i know when you wrote this you put your head in your hands , OHHHM YW GOD

synopsis: In all your years of academic endurance, you’ve never failed. A 100% success rate, despite you cutting it close at times. However, the line graph that is your life starts tanking somewhere around the time you began taking this hellsent Statistics in Psychological Research class. With a professor that wouldn’t know his ass from his head, and an overworked, overenthusiastic, and overcaptivating TA, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. However, statistically speaking,…it could.

[a/n]: this fic is set in the same universe as @highvern's wonu fic endpoint [to be released], some insight for wonu's pov is included here as is some of Mingyu's pov in cam's fic if you'd like to see more about what happens in the gaps!!

I want to start by thanking everyone who chose to be part of this collab fic and for being the reason cam and I were able to open up @camandemstudios in the first place. everyone's been so kind and cooperative and I still cant believe we managed to convince such amazing writers to join us on this collab journey 🥹 I love u guys

Thanking my wife camothy @highvern for brainstorming with me since day one and for betaing for me. @seokgyuu and @miabebe for also looking over the doc and reassuring me. I'm for sure forgetting someone and I'm really sorry about that, know that I appreciate you just as much 🤍

on that note, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, im HELLA nervous for some reason so plsplspls remember to reblog and send me feedback on how you liked it, I will love you forever <333

masterlist

Monday

A normal person would’ve cried. Perhaps even sued the entire institution for all it was worth. Burn down the world, if it came to it. 

But as you stare at the tiny 37/100 on your screen, you feel…nothing. 

You could’ve said you saw it coming, which you did, but something about blaming someone else for an exam you took was beginning to feel a little manipulative. 

Clicking off the student portal, you huff loudly, five in the morning too early for you to begin breaking down over a grade that was completely unreflective of what you were taught. 

Or maybe it was, because as you count one, two, three hours till your dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, you can only hope you’ll hold back from spitting in your professor’s coffee. But alas, you can only shut your laptop harder than necessary for what it costs and push the grade out of your mind.

You were tired enough to sleep for a couple more hours, and you take it as an opportunity to spite the entire course by giving just as many fucks as your professor did.  

Which was little to none. 

That was a lie—on your part anyway. Because you continue to show up, and probably will until you can put this course and all of its trauma behind you. Even now as you feel the inclining beat of your pulse sitting in the white lecture hall, you know this is all but you versus the universe. 

Dr. Cho might as well have wheeled himself into the room on a skateboard with the way he struts into the room. 

He’s wearing a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and jeans of a matching finish that do not fit him properly. There’s pins in every last colour on this earth, littering the front of his jacket with sayings that toe the silver controversial lining. There was one that said Vote for John F. Kennedy, another plain black one with I Eat Kids, and of course, the blaring Cunt written in cursive, pink sparkly letters. 

This man that’s pushing into his 60s stands before his slightly wilted class in his crocs, hands on his hips as he heaves a long breath. 

“I have to say, not the turn out I was expecting on that last report.”

He’s talking about the report you coincidentally failed, the same one you were pushed into with little to no direction and a deadline tighter than any you’ve had to bully yourself through. 

“All I can say is to read through the feedback I’ve given and try a little harder next time.” His voice is somewhere bordering comical exasperation. Feedback that consisted of sparing ‘?’’s and ‘no’’s with zero further explanation. He could say more, but you’ve learned that he simply chooses to not. 

Besides the man that drones in the front of the room, there’s another person in the other corner of the lecture hall. He’s hunched over a giant pile of papers, sifting through each and every one with a pen in his other hand. 

The TA doing a mundane task is somehow more interesting than whatever seminars of disappointment your professor was giving. He’s crossing something out on every single leaf of paper that he flicks through, and you vaguely wonder if those were today’s worksheets. 

“...and post hoc tests last week, we can start on Bayesian today. Mingyu will be handing out the tutorial papers.”

The poor TA looks like he thought he’d have more time, snapping his head up to look at the professor with an expression of pure incredulousness. He staggers for a moment before he’s flicking past the pages even faster somehow, striking out what seems like the same instruction in the giant pile of papers meant for an entire lecture hall. There’s a rustle as about a hundred laptops are being pulled out and booted up, waiting for the worksheets to land on the desks. 

You hear the familiar warble of papers being passed out and you watch as the TA pulls chunks of sheets out of the giant stack in his arms to slam down onto the front tables. 

“Pass it down, please… pass it down, please…”

There’s a voice that calls from one of the front seats, “What formula is the sheet talking about?”

Mingyu looks startled as he snaps back to look at the blaring empty whiteboard. In the midst of passing papers, you watch him sprint to the rolling whiteboards, pulling one of the giant flats of white over to the other side, the mechanism slamming into place with a louder than comfortable slam. It reveals another whiteboard underneath with the detestably long formula already written (and the one you’d have to figure out yourself).

 The professor remains with his chin in his hands behind his laptop, unphased. 

By the time you’ve registered the foreign symbols on the board, one of the tutorial papers has made it into your hands.

Sure enough, there’s a quick line across one of the steps with a thick black marker. 

Blinking hard, you attempt to pull yourself into the zone, staring at the white sheet with words that are barely stringing themselves together. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially as you lift your head to find hunched shoulders and furrowed brows all around. 

There’s one person that’s zipping back and forth, just like there always is. 

You watch as Mingyu hunches over certain laptops and whispers in rapid explanation before moving on to the next, a looming sense of dizziness that trails behind him as he shoots up the stairs to the back rows to help someone else. 

There’s a brief consideration to raise your own hand to ask for help, but one look at his disoriented gaze and the amount of hands that shoot up by the second, you guess it wasn’t going to help.

Back you go, hunched over the same wretched paper as everyone else, and praying for some divine revelation. 

Tuesday

Divine revelation did not come to you, but the good sense to make use of office hours did. 

So here you are, a printed copy of your supposedly horrid assignment and a pack of multicolour pens in your tote, and determination in your stride, you make your way to the department building. 

You’ve double, triple, quadruple checked the times to ensure you don’t dip in at the wrong moment, swiping open your phone to re-check the room number yet again. 

Standing outside the door, you knock with mustered confidence, waiting for something akin to an affirmative from the other side of the door. 

Nothing. 

You knock again.

Silence. 

You glance around the empty hall before grasping onto the cool brass handle of the door, wrenching it open just a peep. Poking your head in, you find the room…empty.

The chairs and tables that usually buzz with discussing students lay barren as you step into the room. Moving to look at the front of the room, you inhale sharply as you realise the professor’s desk has been occupied this entire time. 

Except he’s asleep.

No, that’s not the professor. 

Moving closer, you watch the way his back rises and falls ever so slowly, head resting on his arm as his hand hangs limp off the table. Whipping your head around with more attention this time, you attempt to find an explanation written on the walls. But there’s none, even in the papers that litter the table he rests his head on.

You don’t need to see his face to know it’s the TA. But as you stand in the empty room, clutching the straps of your tote, you aren’t quite sure what to do. 

Another glance around the table and you realise his laptop remains on, the screen yet to sleep. Before the obvious issue of a blatant invasion of privacy can befall you, you take a step forward to take a peek. 

It’s his schedule, a million colours blaring on the screen in a colour coded regard with barely any white spaces. It doesn’t take long to find his time slot for right now, red with importance. 

Glancing down, the man remains fast asleep, pen still in hand as it inks a faint line on the page. You look around the room for the nth time, taking constant glances back at his laptop that tells you he’s actively missing something right now. Clearing your throat, you hunch over a tad bit. 

“Um, excuse me.” He hardly moves. So you try a little louder, hunching over his sleeping form even further. “Excuse me.”

You could’ve sworn you heard a snore. 

Out of instinct, you bring a hand forward to his shoulder, shaking ever so slightly as you call for him again. “Excuse me!”

There’s a sharp inhale and he shoots up quicker than you can back away, ensuring you get an entire back’s worth of force as he bumps into you, hard.

“Wh–ow!” The noise is collective, yelps and thuds as you both back away from each other. 

“W–what’re you doing here?” he asks, hair still ruffled and eyes barely open as he stands at the table. There’s a bright yellow sticky note on his right cheek, ink scribbled on in something you can’t decipher.

“Um, it’s office—”

His eyes land on the same screen you were peering into just before and it looks like his life flashes before his eyes, widening at the sight as he slams around the table looking for something. 

“I have to go,” he announces, gripping onto an unstrapped watch as he registers the time, his other hand shoving his laptop and a few papers into a dark messenger bag. 

“Wait, isn’t it still office hours?” you call out as he whizzes past you. 

He’s swinging his bag over his shoulder and half tripping to the door as he calls out, “Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

“But—”

“It’s on the portal.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it—” he pauses as he exhales loudly, closing his eyes and bringing a hand to rub across his tired face. “I’ll double check. But it’s Wednesdays and Thursdays from now on. You can wait till I get back if you really want help.”

“How—”

A loud slam! of the door. 

“—long…” 

You’re left draped in silence yet again, the echoes of the slammed door ringing in your startled ears. It all happened too fast for you to process, blinking rapidly as you registered that you were now alone in the room. 

He said he’d be back, but left you with no indication as to when. By the looks of his god awful schedule, it looked like he had something else to attend to right after whatever it was he buggered off to right now. 

Fingers clenched into a fist, you consider your options. You could wait, sit on one of the desks and try to get some work done until he gets back. 

The universe gives you your answer as the door opens with a loud creak in the empty lecture hall. It’s another professor who looks quite startled to find an overenthusiastic student already present for class. 

She stares before craning to look at the room number outside the door, “Am I in the right room?”

“Uh, yes! I was just leaving,” you buffer out, moving to shuffle out immediately. 

You’re halfway out the door when you hear another call of an “Excuse me!”

“Are these your papers?” The professor’s full arms are up as she gestures to the still littered table. 

The No is ready on your lips. Until it isn’t. 

Later on, you’d consider how you left that room with an armful of papers that did not belong to you. How you’d ducked under the table to ensure you’d gotten everything, down to the leather strap watch with the cracked clock face. 

But as you stare at the stack of files and sheets that lay on your desk at home, you only know of the decent act that you’d committed.

And nothing of the hourglass you’d just turned over. 

Wednesday

In your Sent box are three emails sent on three separate days, all asking the same recurring question, all responding with the same recurring reply.

I wanted to confirm the days and times for office hours. I’m aware it’s on the portal but I’d like to reconfirm. 

Regards, YN

Dear YN,

Wednesdays and Thursdays. 4 to 6 PM.

Kim Mingyu, T.A. 

So there you were on a Wednesday afternoon, 3:59 PM sharp, outside the lecture hall where office hours have always been. With the same tote hung on your shoulders, with the same printed assignment and pack of multicolour pens, and a separated stack of files and folders, you wrench the door open with bated breath. 

The blended murmur of the usual hustle and bustle of the appointment reassures you first, the sight of scattered students of familiar faces reassures you second. And most of all, a conscious TA that sits at the professor’s desk, speaking to another student over a laptop screen. 

The man does nothing to acknowledge your arrival, continuing above the babble of students that occupy the chairs and the discussion. It isn’t too full, but considerably busy nonetheless despite how early you’ve swooped in. 

There’s a brief consideration whether this was in the TA’s job description at all, craning your neck to take a full sweep of the room to find a sparing glimpse of the man who should be here. The professor and his loud fashion choices are nowhere to be found. 

The sigh you let out is heavy and full of an emotion you cannot possibly begin to unpack, taking a seat on one of the unoccupied chairs to slump against. Shoulders sagging, you feel every fibre of your being screaming against your better judgement to pull out some work and to be productive while you wait. Reading over your failed assignment for the nth time, the same one that seemed to be some sick form of rage bait. 

You pull a couple things out so as to not look awkward sitting and staring into nothing on an empty desk, uncapping your pen and pulling up your sleeves like there was business to be done. Which there was, but none of which you wished to entertain. 

People watching, you realise, is a lot easier when most of the room is preoccupied with whatever it is they’re doing, too busy to notice your blank stares. 

The faces are familiar, none of which are people you’ve interacted with before but classmates nonetheless. The room is full of shaking legs, spinning pens and hunched backs, not an un-scrunched brow in sight. There’s a particular gaggle of girls somewhere around the front, their tables suggesting a work environment but between the whispers, giggles and glances to the front of the room, you assume there’s one thing in common the both of you weren’t doing. 

Speaking of the front of the room, your matched glance finds you face to face with the student at the main table in the middle of pushing himself off his seat. Your reaction is immediate, hand coming over to slam against the flat of your bag to find the lost straps, moving out of your seat as you keep your eyes on the front of the room. 

Bad luck must be a lover, because you realise quickly that somebody’s already beat you to it. Before you even noticed the first’s intentions to. The student stands beside the chair ready to keep it warm as the previous occupant leaves. 

Slamming back down on your own seat, you realise very quickly that trying to get an audience with this TA was going to be harder than you anticipated. There’s multiple other sounds of frustration around the room, and you doubt the slowly increasing pool of students was going to help anyone’s time management. 

Realising you needed to be a little more tactical if you didn’t want to sit here for the next month and half, you find an empty spot near the gaggle of girls you’d noticed before. It was right up front, just enough for you to hear when the conversation would begin to conclude at the main table. 

Once again, the TA doesn’t seem to notice any of the hustle and bustle of the room as his mouth continues to move rapidly, eyes on the question as he invests himself in his explanation. 

It was unfortunate that the only remaining seat was right next to the louder than necessary group, but you take it as a blessing anyway. It’s then that the one right next to you turns to stage-whisper to you. 

“Are you here to see him?”

You don’t expect a conversation, ears straining to eavesdrop on the other conversation in front of you to find your cue. You snap to look at her in surprise. “Pardon?” 

“Are you here to see him? Mingyu?”

“Uh—” Wasn’t everybody? “Yeah, I had a couple things I wanted to clear out.”

The revelation makes her shoulders drop as she lets out a loud sigh, “God, I can never get anything this professor says. I've been here nearly every week trying to figure it all out.”

“Yeah he’s a bit…unorthodox.”

“He’s unorthodox too.” She looks over to the main table towards the TA, chin in her hands as she gazes. “A face like that is rare.”

It wasn’t that she was wrong, it didn’t take more than a glance to convince yourself that Mingyu was possibly one of the more attractive people you’d meet in your lifetime. But the appeal lasted for all of five minutes for you, flitting away when you noticed that he dragged along a very…overwrought… suggestion wherever he went. 

It was clear he was stressed seemingly all year round, nearly just as relaxed as your professor seemed to be. 

But Mingyu was attractive. And you realise how much of a fool you’d sound if you admitted to anything other than such. 

“It is. His willpower’s somehow even rarer,” you add. “Don’t know how he does it.”

“God, tell me about it. Forget getting his number, trying to have more than a three sentence exchange with him without some statistical nonsense involved is near impossible.” Her face has fallen, a tight little frown on her face as she irritates herself with some other memory. 

Taking a glance down at her notes, you find the printed sheet littered with glitter gel pen ink lining the edges, doodles of stars and hearts and small anime characters next to p values and z scores. 

There’s a distinct sound of a chair screeching, and it’s like a large GAME OVER sign is hanging above your head. 

You jerk in your seat, like you could jump over the table and land in the emptying seat with some god-given stroke of luck, like the person already standing next to the chair wouldn’t hold a lifelong grudge against the insane girl with an unnatural acclimation to statistics. 

Although, nothing was more unnatural than the way this TA seemed to know more than the professor. Or you were just really behind. 

Alas, you don’t tumble over the table or kick back your chair, merely making a forceful motion in your seat, palms itching terribly as you watch the girl with her open laptop balanced in her arms move to take a seat. 

You were preoccupied, hence you do not notice that the TA has also noticed you. 

Suddenly, the girl looks startled as she’s told to wait. 

“She’s been waiting nearly a week, I really hope you don’t mind,” you hear him say, voice strained as you turn to look at him. His hands are outstretched to motion towards you a few feet across from him. 

For whatever reason, you had no thought that he might’ve remembered you. Something about his half asleep state when he’d spoken to you, perhaps he might’ve thought he dreamt it. Or he’d just forgotten it altogether. 

The girl glances at you, and her shoulders sag a little as she nods in formality. 

“Thank you.”

It comes out of both of you, snapping to look at each other hardly a moment as you go back to smiling at the retreating student. 

“You can come right after her,” he reassures, his own upturned mouth tired and fading. 

Never have you felt more awkward trying to come around the elongated student tables. 

You pause at first, staring at the table in front of you like it was worth trying to climb over or even crawl under it to get to the desk. Another moment of eye contact as he stares at your unmoving form with a blank look, and the heat pools your skin. 

Staggering for a moment, you end up moving past your chair and walking the way round anyway, the screeching of the chairs only nurturing the existing budding humiliation for no apparent reason. 

It only gets worse when you sit across from him finally, backside barely touching the plastic before realising you’d forgotten your bag in your seat. 

Mid smile in a timid greeting when you make a sound resembling something of an “Oh!” as you spring back up immediately. It’s easier to reach for your bag over the table you were sitting on, reaching across to grab it off your vacated seat. 

The girl you were sitting next to just before makes a motion like she’s trying to help and you have to remind yourself to smile at her as you retreat. 

Mingyu has the very beginnings of an amused expression on his face once you’ve finally made yourself comfortable across from him, clearing your throat just for something to do. 

“Right. How can I help you?”

Pulling out your printed assignment, you bring out the sheets of stapled paper to the centre of the table, writing facing him. 

One look at the sparse format of the cover page, he blows a full mouth of air at the sight of recognition. Without you having to say a thing, he flicks to the very last page, finding the rubric printed on a separate page. 

“It’s a 37,” you inform him like he couldn’t see the bold 37/100 in the bottom Total cell. 

“Do you think you deserved a better grade?” he asks. It would have sounded direct, an accusation even. But he asks with an intonation of genuinity, like he actually wanted to know. 

It stumps you regardless.

“Well…I know I can do better, at least,” you decide to answer. 

“You’re here, which means you’re at least willing to try. That’s a start,” he murmurs. His eyes are laser focused on the sheet beneath him, holding it open as his eyes move faster across the page than you can keep up with. Somehow talking to you while taking in the words on the paper.

“I remember marking this,” he says, looking up to address you. “Your concepts are nearly there, but your structure and presentation was off.”

“You marked them?”

He raises his brow, “I hope that wasn’t an accusation. I need to stick to the rubric.”

“I thought the professor marked the lab reports.”

“He’s…supposed to.” There’s a forced reservedness in his voice. “I mark them and he puts in his comments if he has any. But I’m not sure you’d fare any better than this if it was him behind that pen either.”

Every question that floated in memorisation, from the form and structure, to the nitty gritties of the data presentation, all evaporate as you realise you’re at a loss for words. 

Even more embarrassingly, you feel tears prick the back of your eyes. You don’t have an explanation, but it’s somehow easier to feel helpless in front of the man that’s meant to help you. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“That’s alright,” he says as reassurance, though it sounds awfully rehearsed. Like he has to say it everyday. “We’ll work through it.”

He lets out a big sigh, adjusting in his chair and running a hand through his hair. The motion has you noticing the dishevelled nature of the mop on his head, un-uniformed and sticking out at certain places, yet still somehow cohesive with his look. His shoulders are straight and taut, fingers working as they fiddle and flick the pen in his hand. 

Despite it all, his shirt is ruffled and creased, unbuttoned at the first couple steps. The buttons are misaligned, one side of his collar higher on his neck than the other. It takes an effort to not reach over and fix it for him.

“Lab reports can be quite tricky if you aren’t sure what you’re doing. Did you refer to the tutorial?”

You mean the one that did nothing to help? “Yes.”

“You got those bits right, format and whatnot. But—”

“It was a lump of writing about subheadings and word counts,” you say plainly.

Mingyu lips are in a tight line. “Well, yes, but it helps—”

“I know the results are supposed to go in the results section. I don’t need a PDF to tell me that,” you cut him off. Your voice is reserved, and you hope it comes off as a point across and not a complaint. Although it was a complaint. “I want to know why the entire section was ruled off as incorrect when we were never properly taught how to write it in the first place.”

“Dr. Cho—”

“Is no help.”

“I understand—”

“He can’t even mark his own papers. I’m quite sure that’s not in your job description. It’s supposed to be him here. Not you.”

It’s silent. There was nothing in your voice that suggested you wished to pick a fight, on the contrary, quite calm and matter of fact. Mingyu’s fingernails are going white as his grip on his pen and paper grow stronger. 

“And yet, we continue to show up. Because we do what we must.” He raises his head in control, a small smile on his face, eyebrows unnaturally raised. “And, better that I’m here rather than no one at all. I can help you too.”

Help, he did. 

Mingyu had made it quite clear his time with you was limited, but by the end of the near 25 minute session, nearly every inch of your printed assignment was covered in a rainbow of notes and corrections, additional papers and post-it notes pasted on the back as you remain careful to not lose them as you slip the stack in your bag. 

You only remember when you spot the segregated file of papers in your bag.

“I almost forgot,” you say, slipping the files and tidbits out and in front of him. 

“Where did you find this?” he asks sharply, eyes widening as sees the familiar blue. 

“You left them at the desk of the lecture hall last week,” you say, before quickly adding, “There was a class right after you left. I took them off the professor’s hands before they got lost. Thought it might be important.”

“I’ve been looking all over for these,” he says as he goes through the pages and files. Random sticky tabs and highlighted regions across the pages. The leather strap watch with the broken clock face remains on top, and he picks it up. He looks up to you with wide, sparkling eyes and a smile that feels genuine. “Thank you.”

You flush for some reason, “O–of course, couldn’t just leave them there.”

Pausing, you wonder if you should make the next comment, the words tumbling out before you can make a decision. “Maybe don’t run out of rooms still half asleep.”

By the grace of God, he laughs, “No, you’re right. I should be careful.”

It isn’t till you’re pushing yourself out of your chair that he continues. “You can come in at 3:30 tomorrow.”

“Pardon?”

He’s stood up as well. “I have a free thirty minutes before office hours formally start. I can help you out a little more without the crowd.” 

Feet planted on the ground, there’s not much you can do but stare. “Um, sure. I can come in a little early.”

He nods casually, “Thanks again for the papers. And the watch.”

You smile, “No problem.”

Thursday

True to your punctual nature, you make yourself known at exactly 3:29 PM.

Mingyu is at the desk, conscious and on the phone, eyes closed as he rests his face on his fist.

“I don’t know if I can make time for that—no, I understand, sir,”

Another pause as the noise from his speakers fill his ears, his rubbing over his face a little harsher than you doubt he’s entirely comfortable with. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

His phone hits the table with a heartbreaking thud, both hands covering his face as he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. 

“Light on your feet or something? I can never tell when you come in,” he startles when he notices you. 

Sheepish smile on your face, you move to sit down. “Sorry.”

You know it’s invasive, and you also know you might be asking him to break some unknown university code of conduct, but curiosity takes charge as you ask a casual question. “Important call?”

“Uh, yeah, um, just work stuff,” he states, shaking his head swiftly like he’s trying to shake the thought out of his mind. 

There’s a pause while you're slipping your papers and laptop out of your bag, during which he seems to have decided to divulge a little more. 

“It was Dr. Cho. More stuff for me to do,” he says. “As always.” 

“Does he do anything other than show up to class?” you ask through a snort. 

“Of course he does. He cusses out every article he doesn’t agree with, is anything but objective and…the occasional relay of blatant misinformation.” 

For the record, you’d never really heard Mingyu speak at all for the months he’d been TA-ing for the semester. It was small whispers of choice words in a vague voice, the distant murmur as he exchanged with the professor too far for you to hear. 

The voice of the seemingly quiet and diligent TA was never known to you, not until yesterday as he explained statistical models and the flaws of your data presentation. 

Passionately too. Incredulous for a discipline so dry and unapproachable. 

That being said, something about the grit in his voice as he positively sneered through his teeth, badmouthing his professor—it was something you couldn’t quite believe he was capable of. 

“I’m sorry you have to put up with him.”

Once again, by whatever stone of tolerance the universe bestowed in his heart, you watch him sigh and smile, “Anything for that recommendation. And the pay too, I suppose. Besides, he’s done a lot for the area, can’t discredit him entirely.”

With your eyebrows raised, he seems to catch your expression. He pants out a laugh, and your stomach lurches as you watch it reach his eyes, teeth on display, a lurch in his chest; a true laugh. 

Raising his hands in surrender, he responds, “I’m stuck.”

There’s nothing you can do to stop the smile that reaches your own face, turning your laptop screen towards him with the JASP software display. “I am too. Help.”

Help, he does.

Monday

Mingyu ended up giving you an entire hour on that Thursday. 

The thirty minutes before office hours began soared by like they were nothing, and you were ready to take your leave the minute students began to scatter in as the clock hit a swift four. Except he kept going, another 30 minutes in deep concentration as he retaught you nearly everything from scratch. 

Perhaps his proven determination to ensure you don’t tragically fail is what prompted you to do this, standing at the till of your regular coffee shop as you ask, “Make that two, please.”

It might also be important to mention the 7:30 AM on the dial on a bright Monday morning as you walked into your slightly less dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, knowing there would only be one other person insane enough to get to the lecture hall this early. 

Something isn’t right. 

Mingyu is in a position all too familiar to you and everyone else who shares this class, hunched over something or the other in deep focus. The sun pours in through the lifted blinds, the lights of the class turned off as natural light does more than enough of the job. 

It also shows you a blaring hot pink post-it note on his face, all too familiar to a previous interaction you’ve had with him. 

He notices you before you need to announce yourself, brows separating as he recognises you in the doorway. “‘Morning!” 

“...Morning.”

“You’re early,” he comments, straightening his back with a hand behind him for support as you approach. 

“Figured we both needed this,” you hand him a tray with his cup of coffee, eyes still trained on his lower cheek with the paper stuck to it. “It’s a latte with no sugar, but I added a couple packets on the side anyway. Just in case.”

“O–oh, thank you. And you’re right I did need this.”

Now that you’re closer, the scrawled writing on the post-it note is clearer. 

To Do:

Call mom

Shoot myself

“You, um—” It’s alarmingly difficult for you to say it, despite the words being so simple. Hey! You got a lil’ something on your face.

But all you do is dumbly point to your own cheek, eyes trained on the loud piece of paper that tells more than he might like the world to know. 

There’s a loud slap of his hand on his own cheek as he crumples the paper in his hands, bringing it forward to see. “For fuck’s sake.”

“It’s okay! I wanna…shoot myself too sometimes.” 

What the fuck?

“I mean!” you correct louder than you anticipated, before covering with a laugh. “It’s okay, it happens. Good thing I caught it before someone else did.”

It’s all the more petrifying when your voice echoes across the blatantly empty lecture hall, reverberating like it was a punishment for you and your horrid lack of volume control. Meeting his eyes feels like a sin right now, so you keep them downcast and pray he doesn’t try to sabotage your education. 

“Good thing it was just you. Yeah.”

Just you.

“Anyways, I think I’m done with prepping for class. Do you wanna squeeze in twenty minutes of ANOVA?” 

“Have you seen the time?” 

“Not a morning person?”

“Nope!”

“And yet it’s 7:40 on a Monday morning and you’re absurdly early.” His brows are raised as he pulls around the professor's chair to bring it to you. 

“Do you want the coffee or not?” you ask, watching as he drags another chair for himself. 

The both of you sit away from the professors table, coffees in hand as you watch Mingyu run a hand through his hair. 

He gives you a crooked grin,“I apologise.”

“To be fair,” he continues. “I’m not much of a morning person either.”

You narrow your eyes the slightest bit as Mingyu takes a sip of his unsweetened coffee, “I’m starting to think no money’s worth this job.”

Mingyu snorts, coffee suspended in his full cheeks. He swallows with much difficulty before answering, “You’re right. Not sure why I’m still here either. I could get an offer from another professor.”

“And that isn’t happening because…?”

Elbows on his knees, Mingyu swirls his capless coffee cup, the beige liquid moving in a growing tornado. “I like Dr. Cho.”

“You—”

“I know,” he laughs loud, a deep, echoing sound that shakes in your ears. “I know. I sound like a lunatic.”

“I don’t know about lunacy, but insanity can have its reasons.”

“Another would argue that insanity was the very absence of reason.” 

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Excuse me for doing my job.”

He takes another sip of his coffee, and you ask again, “No, but really. I can’t imagine this man having too many redeeming qualities as an educator.”

Mingyu lifts his chin as he presses his lips together. “When I was in my first year, there was this other class I had where we had to write a lab report for the first time.”

“PSYCH101?”

“That’s the one. I’d never written one before, but I liked statistics enough to do a little more digging than what the assignment called for. I ended up finding one of Dr. Cho’s studies, read the entire thing, word for word. I was up all night reading nearly everything he’d published, some of ‘em before any of us were even born.” 

“Oh. So you’re a fan.”

“Everyone tells you to never meet your idols,” he snickers. “He’s done amazing things, but I guess he pays for it with his flawed personality.”

“I’m sorry it had to be you,” you half joke. 

Mingyu looks at you sheepishly, “That might also be my own fault.” 

“Don’t tell me you offered.”

“I might as well have. All my assignments referenced his work the most. I was always talking to him about upcoming research after class, and it was like he was a different person. Forget differing opinions, some of what he was saying was just…plain incorrect. He welcomed the argument though, and I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true. He was always emailing me extra resources which…I’m pretty sure he isn’t supposed to do. Only reason I did so well in his class was because I taught myself.” 

He sighs a loud sigh, straightening his back, “I guess he liked me more than I thought, because next thing I know I’m getting a call over the summer telling me I have a job.”

“Did he…have a TA when you were in his class?” 

“Four.”

“Four?!”

“Two at a time. All of ‘em quit at some point. Said they didn’t want the recommendation or the pay.”

“Would he…not give you a recommendation anyway? You said he liked you.”

Mingyu shakes his head solemnly, “He’s a tough cookie, everyone in the field knows that. If you’ve impressed him, you’ve impressed everyone.”

You take a moment to really absorb everything you’ve just learned. “That’s a sucky position you’re in.”

“Tell me about it. But it’s okay. Three—three and a half more months to go? This isn’t even the worst of it, I’m just dreading study week when I’m gonna have to handle all the crying.”

You wince as he mentions something even remotely close to exam season, still barely at a stage where you can accept you’d be alright with this class. 

“I know you’re not nearly as qualified or experienced as him, but I think you could take over his class.”

“Ever heard of barriers to entry? I’d be ruined if I wanted a career in this.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “All I’m saying is I’ve learned more from you in barely a couple hours combined than the last two months I’ve spent cursing this very lecture hall.”

If you weren’t lying to yourself, you could’ve sworn you saw a blush creep up his face, and paired with his shy laugh and hand at the back of his neck, you can’t help but bite back your own smile. 

“If I can help you then it’s worth losing myself.”

Your heart is in your fucking throat.

“I’m glad when students tell me that,” he continues, utterly oblivious to the landslide happening in your digestive tract. “Makes me feel like I’m doing something right.”

“You’re—” you swallow thickly because you sound like a toad. “You’re doing more than just something right. You’re saving us therapy and an extra semester.”

He laughs at that, and you wish he’d let you breathe. 

“Feels like I’m doing something wrong sometimes,” he huffs. “My friend’s a TA too and he’s got himself a girlfriend on top of everything else he’s got going on.” 

He goes on, “Do you know how many times I need to ask people to quit twirling their hair? To look at the page and not my face? Asking for my number, I have an email for a reason, for fuck’s sake—”

Mingyu is cut off because you’re laughing, hand to mouth as your shoulders shake through your sniggering. “W–what?”

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup. “It’s just…It sounds like you don’t know what you look like.”

“What’s wrong with how I look?” he frowns.

“Nothing!” you exclaim. “But that’s the problem isn’t it.”

Mingyu doesn’t seem to buy it, even through your coaxing as you attempt to explain to him that he is, in fact, desirable.

“Can’t possibly be enough to distract people,” he huffs in earnest, still hung up on the students he can’t get through to. 

“Majority of the class would beg to differ.”

There’s a pause as he registers what you imply. 

After a few moments, he drops his head, opening his mouth, “Would… you also—”

There’s a loud creak of the door as you hear the immediate noises of shuffling feet and chattering mouths, as low and tired as they sounded. Turning back to look at Mingyu, he’s already jumped out of his seat, wrist to face as he checks the time on the same leather strap watch you returned. 

“That’s our cue,” you breathe, pushing your chair back behind the professor’s desk as you manoeuvre around Mingyu who’s suddenly frantic. 

Of course you realise there’s people other than just the two of you in the room, heightened in seats that are designed to ensure they can absorb every detail that goes on right where you stand in the front of the room.

But you feel the soft of Mingyu’s shirt over his wrist as you give him a gentle squeeze despite it all, barely enough pressure. Half your index finger brushes the skin of his hand, just enough to register how cold your fingertips are and how warm his body is. 

“Relax,” you whisper. “You’ll be better off without all the panic.”

You don’t see his face as you brush past him and up to your seat, looking up to see him disappear somewhere in the corner hunched over another stack of papers. The next time you see Mingyu’s face is when the professor arrives and has begun his regularly scheduled tomfoolery, and realise all the age that can accumulate in the span of five minutes. 

Thursday

Midterm season is nothing you’ve ever really had to worry about. 

Something about the halfway point did make it obvious that the clock was ticking, but danger was far enough away to prevent the ultimate breakdowns reserved for the peak seasons. 

Except this class isn’t ordinary, and it’s all you’re able to worry about all semester. And as Dr. Cho in his Thrasher vest announces the date for the in class midterm, the glass once half empty, suddenly looks very half full. 

“I’m not ready.”

“You’re more ready than anyone else in class.”

“How do you know that?”

Mingyu stares at you blankly, “If I don’t know that, then who else does?”

You have tears in your eyes, which is embarrassing enough since this is the second time you’ve teared up in front of him, but also because you’re in a library following Mingyu around like a lost duck because he insists on putting the books he borrowed back onto the shelves himself after registering the return. 

“But I don’t feel like I’m ready,” you whine, turning the corner as he searches for the last spot to place his final book. 

“You’ll realise just how ready you are when all those hieroglyphs on the page start to make sense to you,” he grunts the last bit out as he reaches on his tippy toes to shove the book back up. 

Dusting his hands off, he adjusts his shirt before turning to you, “You only feel that way because I’ve been giving you harder problems to work on. You’re past the level you need to be at right now. Trust me, you’re more than prepared.”

“But—”

“Listen,” he waves to the librarian as you both leave the library, your eyes still glistening as you fiddle with your sleeves. “It’s only the midterm—”

“Only the—”

“If this goes wrong, I’m just gonna have to work you harder for the real thing. Even though I know it won’t go wrong because I said so.”

You fall into silence as he walks you towards the coffee shop across the courtyard. 

“I’m assuming…” you start. 

“Hm?” he looks over to you.

“I’m assuming you can’t hint at what’s on the paper.”

Mingyu barks out a laugh of disbelief, “You assume correct. I’m not going through hell with this job just to lose it because of a paper leak.”

“But it’s just the midterm,” you mumble, not even close to remotely audible. 

“What did you say?” Mingyu smirks. 

“Nothing,” you huff.

“You know, I’m a little offended you don’t trust me.”

“Who said I didn’t.”

“Well then, stop being such a worrywart.”

There must be something written on your face, because as you pass Mingyu standing at the door he keeps open for you, entering into the coffee shop with fallen shoulders, he seems to change his mind. 

He brings you a coffee, sits you down, and gives you something else you need. “I made the paper. Every question. And I taught you. Every concept. So I definitely know you’re gonna be fine.”

In that moment, with the large glass walls of the warm coffee shop, the afternoon sun comfortably resting on every last object of the room, you don’t see it illuminate anything other than the man before you. 

Perhaps you're being dramatic at the revelation, but you don’t take anything into account as you note Mingyu’s eyes and how they sparkle like they were gifted from the centre of a flaming volcano, brown and polished more than any jewel or stone you’d ever seen. Reaching out to touch him, you know you’d feel nothing but smooth stone, the indentations only possible by a being beyond what you could comprehend. 

He’d given you more than just reassurance, and at times, his timing makes it feel like he was sent from the heavens itself, just for you. 

You sniffle. 

His hands brush over yours as he hands you a napkin, and even more so, cover your own as he takes your freezing fingertips into his own palm, the contact burning you like hot coal. 

You know he’s real. And you don’t know why quite just yet, but that reassurance is enough to give you calm.

Monday

You were alright, but it seems that Mingyu seemed to disintegrate right after he was done reassuring you to the moon and Saturn and Jupiter and back.

It’s midterm day, and as always on every Monday morning, you enter the empty lecture hall with two warm coffees in your hand, ready for whatever shitshow you’d have to perform for today.

It seems Mingyu must defect from at least one regular string of behaviour to remain as Mingyu, who on this occasion, stands before you in a baby blue polo sweater. 

Except you only know that because you can see the unique collar, but it might also be important that his back is turned towards you. 

“Morning, champ,” he gruffs, nothing encouraging about his voice in the slightest. 

Your breath hitches when you finally see his face, eyes sunken in and face pale. His lips are chapped and peeling, eyes half closed. 

“Why’re you looking at me like that, why has everyone been looking at me like that?” he huffs in one long, rapid question. 

“Um, I mean,” you stare at his shirt that’s backwards. And inside out. “I can’t tell if that’s a choice or a mistake.”

Looking down at his front, he looks back up, “What?”

“Your collar is…not at your collar, Mingyu. And your shirt’s inside out.”

Hand at his nape, he reaches his fingers down and finds the unmistakable starched planes of his collar, eyes closing at the realisation. He’s immediately pulling his arms out of the shirt with his eyes still closed like it’d all disappear if he keeps them like that. 

“Wait!” you exclaim before he strips entirely, scrambling to put your coffees down to push him out of the room towards the restrooms. “Do you wanna strip for the CCTVs?”

You only hear him sigh as he moves out and into the hall, doors closed behind him. 

You’ve nearly forgotten about the midterm at this point, your concern now growing in a completely different direction. By the time Mingyu returns, he’s blabbing about wondering why everyone he ran into since he left home was giving him the strangest looks, and then something about you always swooping in to save him before the real bout of disaster strikes. 

It’s hard for you to listen to him when you’re more worried about him passing out, his face doing him no favours to reassure you that he wasn’t a breathing corpse. 

“Mingyu…did you sleep at all?”

“Hm?” His eyes are glazed over and unfocused. 

“Sleep? Rest?”

“Oh,” he frowns. “Not really. I had emails coming in all night.”

“And you were replying?”

“It's the midterm today,” he responds flatly, like it should’ve been enough explanation. 

You almost don’t believe him. “Doesn’t mean you stay up to answer something that should’ve been cleared out beforehand!”

“Couldn’t just leave them to fend for themselves,” he dramatises. 

“Yes, you could!” Your voice comes out louder than you expected, eyes wide as you realise what he’s doing to himself. “You barely look human and it’s only the midterm.”

“What’re you trying to say?”

“I don’t know if this job is really worth as much as you think it is.”

Mingyu’s jaw is clenched, fists tight as he releases them to grip paper weight on the desk, knuckles white. “I can’t get anywhere if I don’t—”

“Mingyu, please. This isn’t good for you.”

He says your name. Declarative, almost like a warning. “If you think this job isn’t worth it then you just don’t know.”

“Mingyu—”

“No, you don’t, because I’ve seen how good of a job I’ve been doing.”

“You have, you’ve been amazing but—”

Mingyu’s own voice is raised, a hard impenetrable floor to the words he spills. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You look like a corpse!”

And then he’s getting out of his chair with so much force it almost knocks it backwards, “Why on earth do you care so much? So what if I look like a corpse, if I‘m doing my job?” 

It might’ve been better if he knocked the chair right into you, your breath dissipating in your chest like it never existed. His face is morphed in an expression of exasperation your anxieties fear the most, every line on his face committed to irritation and anger. 

Why on earth do you care so much?

Right. Why do you? 

“Are you asking me that?”

“What?”

“Are you asking me why I care?” 

Mingyu only sighs, shoulders dropping and eyes closed. Like so many times before, you watch run a hand through his hair, except this time he yanks on the strands harder than ever before. 

His eyes are bloodshot. 

“I have to get the exam pack.”

Marching out the door in front of your own eyes, you’re left with a feeling that’s right in the back of your throat, curling and whirling into something you wish you could hack and gag out. Gripping the corner of the professor’s desk, you feel the peeling wood cut into your skin. 

There’s a draft, the delayed slam of the door has only hit its wind now, a delayed reaction. It’s like it registers in your mind as you feel strands of your hair shift, the clarity that comes with it.

Delusive. Chimeric. Cruel.

Everything you’d subjected upon yourself. A whimsical fantasy between pages of logic and numbers, a story that simply didn’t fit where the laws wouldn’t allow it. 

The null hypothesis of your most elaborate nightmares.

Monday

Your favourite commonplace box, where your mother once placed all her most prized jewels, had a finicky latch. 

It wasn’t broken, simply worn in from years of opening and closing. It took a few tries to get it shut. Simply pressing down with pressure didn’t work; you had to open it again, press down on the individual elements of the latch and then try again. 

You were never satisfied until you heard the distinct click of the latch fixing itself, the box closed and ready for you to hook your lock through.

Earlier on in your undergraduate career, you remember a professor talking about the effects of external factors on the mind, how they can sometimes cause it to ‘shut down’ when overwhelmed or stressed. 

It’s happened to you on many a occasion; like when you stayed up too late on a school night to watch a documentary about the Stanford prison experiment, or when you’d neglect food or water on busier days, or when you’d stop paying attention in class because you were too preoccupied thinking about Taco Tuesday. 

Regardless, you’d found a way to recognise when your brain would fall into some strange kahoots with daydreams, or whatever was bothering you, and learned ways to give yourself a reset. 

Pressuring and forcing the attention wouldn’t work, just like how the latch wouldn’t fit when you’d do the same with your beloved old box. So you’d take a walk, drink something cold, spray yourself with a garden hose, or even take a nap altogether. Opening yourself up, so the latch can finally click. 

On the morning of your midterm, when you’d ensured your brain was in optimal condition for the exam you knew would be one of the worse ones you’ll have to take, you were sure the only external force that could ruin your vibe was from God himself. 

Having been so preoccupied with your mind and its functions, you’d seemed to have forgotten where your heart had wandered off to. 

Somebody else might consider it a minor disagreement; an anxious squabble if you will. But your breakfast in your throat was enough reason to deem what happened that morning much more than that. At least for you. 

“Pass it on, please…pass it on, please.”

The sound of his voice is tectonic. Rattling in your head like a superior force had slammed into your skull like a padded hammer to a gong. 

You hated it. You hated everything. You hated yourself. And as the midterm paper reaches you with your pen in your clawed fingers, the first three questions already making perfect sense, you realise you hated Kim Mingyu the most. 

That was a lie. You were lying to yourself, yet again. 

Because it was quite the opposite. You couldn’t hate him. 

As you drift past every question of conditional experiments and screenshots of data and tables on a software, you hardly remember what you circle and what you don’t. Hardly remember what words you picked for the short answers and labels. You hardly remember taking the steps down from your seat to the front of the room, where the professor sat scrolling through his Skateboarders [!MEN ONLY!] facebook group, placing your paper down and leaving the classroom. 

Throughout your years of living, you’d learned what you needed to get your brain out of its clouded muffle, to refocus when you needed it. 

Everything. You tried everything. 

But on that day, when it mattered most, your latch never clicked.

It’s Wednesday. 

You order lunch from the Italian place a few streets down. Ravioli; it’s safe and you know you’ll like it. 

Savouring it is easy in front of another true crime show. You pull a lone soft drink from your fridge, one that your friend left weeks ago. It tastes just as bad as the last time you tasted it from someone else’s cup, but you drink it anyway, the empty can now in your trash. 

It’s 3:30 PM, and you sit at your desk. It’s strange. It feels like you’re missing something, which in ways, you are. But as you pull your laptop from your nightstand instead of out of your bag, you slow your movements. 

The papers are the same. But you read them anyway. 

Parameter estimation: Make inferences on characteristics of the population, including distributions of the variables and the effect of one variable over another. 

It’s accursed the way the universe won’t let you live. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, estimation cannot be perfect. 

Estimation cannot be perfect. 

[_]

It’s Thursday

Class. Eat. Drink. Work.

Hypothesis testing: Determine whether null hypothesis is rejected or not after data observation. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, no null hypothesis in bayesian approach!!

[_]

It’s Friday

Eat. Drink. Work.

Latent means to have meaning but is yet to be manifested. The greek letters are placeholder values for values yet unknown. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue; values that you will find out

[_]

It’s Saturday

Eat. Drink. Work.

P(A|B) = [P(B|A)P(A)

              ——————

                     P(B)

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

 it gets less complicated

 promise :/ 

[_]

It’s Sunday.

Eat. Drink. Work.

The page is blurry. Your eyes hurt. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

you’ve got this!!! < 3

You give up.

It’s Monday.

8:14 AM. 

You barely glance at the front of the room; swift turn to the left and right up the steps. Dr. Cho’s outfit almost goes unnoticed by you, tamer than most. Bright Barbie pink with large polka dots, untucked into too tight white jeans. His crocs are sparkly, at least that’s what the twinkle from up here looks like. 

He’s insulting another author, the man’s ProQuest journal article open for the world to see like a mediaeval scandal. 

There’s another person next to the whiteboards, back to the wall, hands clasped in front of him. His hair is messy, shooting lasers into the carpet as he rocks the slightest bit, listening to the professor rip this author to shreds. 

An hour later, you’re staring into the JASP software like it was written in a different language. 

Glancing next to you, the boy in the spongebob hoodie is playing sharkboy and lavagirl by himself. On your other side, the girl has the same thing as you open on her laptop, her pen occupied with drawing about a hundred tiny gojos on a bright pink sticky note. 

Bright pink sticky note. 

You snap your gaze back to your screen quickly after that. 

9:58 AM. You start packing up, shoving everything into your bag. 

Dr. Cho doesn’t even notice you slip out of the room, hardly a minute to the end of the lecture.

In the hallway, you take your first real breath in two hours. 

It’s Tuesday.

You’ve come down with something, head heavy as you feel yourself burn up. Skipping class is easy when you sleep through your alarm and every phone call from a friend asking where you are. 

They drop by, armed with medicine and soup. You almost feel better. 

It’s silent after they leave, and you realise in that moment how much you hate it. 

Opening your laptop for the first time in over 24 hours, you turn on a random podcast to play in the background, needing something to fill the air before you lose it entirely. 

The screen lands right where you left on the incredulous data presentation, unsolved tutorial paper crumpled between the screen and keyboard like a wilted leaf. 

Hot, scalding tears sting your eyeballs when you realise there was nowhere to turn to.

It’s Wednesday.

After a long day of doing nothing, still sick from whatever plagued your body, you go to bed earlier than usual.

It’s Thursday. 

Walking out of class, your mind is empty. You’re still sniffling, still achey, but better than you were. The shawl wrapped around you is warm, and your hood covers the cold tips of your ears. 

This other class makes you feel better about yourself, especially when the content is digestible and so is the professor. The TA feels like a mere accessory in the room, something you’ve learned to appreciate. 

With your gaze lowered, you only see midriffs as you walk out the classroom into the busy hallway. 

It happens in an instant, the flash of a clenched hand as the owner walks by in quick stride. An unmistakable leather strap watch with a broken clock face on the wrist.

You freeze like you’ve been caught. 

The hard bump of someone coming out the room behind you is welcomed, the annoyed “Hey!” knocking you back to earth before you could even exit the dimension. 

You’re off centre. But it’s fine. 

It’s Monday.

“Midterm results are out Tuesday morning. If you have any questions I’ll be sitting at office hours on Wednesday and Thursday, four to six in the evening. Or you could send me an email, either’s fine.”

Dr. Cho isn’t here. Something you only found out when the pitt sank in your stomach as Mingyu cleared his throat at the full hour. 

You want to leave, not caring about how strange it’d look if you did. Not caring about how he would definitely notice if you did. You want him to shut up, to stop talking, for anything to halt the way his voice infiltrates your entire being, talking about things you don’t understand but more familiar than anything else. 

Mingyu’s voice is hoarse, and you loathe the way you can tell the difference. 

It’s Tuesday.

Midterm Results for Statistics in Psychological Research.

—  92/100

It’s Wednesday. 

4:10 PM. It’s almost too much for you. Almost. 

The screech of the door is loud, the slam of the handle’s rebound even more so. The room doesn’t so much as glance at you at the door, the half full seats preoccupied with more important things. 

The front desk perks up immediately, eyes shooting towards the door for the nth time that day, like he was expecting someone that never seemed to show up. 

It’s ironic, you think, how Mingyu never seemed to notice you walk into the room for the many months you’ve walked in just for him. And now, as you walk in fists clenched and jaw set, eyes wild and burning, he’s breaking away from a student to look at the door before you even come into view. 

“Did you feel bad?” you spit.

“What?” he whispers. He seems to come around, glancing back before continuing, “Can we talk? Please.”

“Answer the question, Mingyu,” you snap. You don’t care there’s a confused student sitting right across from the both of you, his slot interrupted by your barge. “Did you feel so bad you had to give me something I didn’t earn?”

He’s stood up now, half confused. “Is this about the midterm—”

“I did not get a ninety two, I know I didn’t,” you grit. “Whatever happened before that stupid paper made sure I wouldn’t.”

Mingyu says your name and the sound makes you want to vomit. “What makes you think I’d do something like that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I fucked up because of you?” you announce, louder than before. 

The world disappeared, your tunnel vision pointed at Mingyu’s face that wears an expression you cannot even begin to read. The unbecoming tears in your eyes are of a type of unadulterated rage you’ve felt only a few times before. Your heart is going about a million miles a breath, everything else only triggering an added bout of infuriated tremble in the forefront of your emotions. Nothing makes sense. 

Mingyu pushes back his chair in silence, stalking over to a large cupboard in the corner of the room. He shuffles around for a minute before returning. 

There’s a packet being thrust into your fists when he reaches you. He does not meet your eyes. 

A bright red 92/100 marks the front page.

“Here. It was all you, if you can’t believe me.”

It’s a careful mark, unmistakable lines and curves of the nine and the two. 

Reality is slow to sink in, but for some reason it’s only making you angrier. The paper curls under the pressure of your fingertips. You don’t open the packet. You refuse to flick through the pages. 

Because you know you’ve lost.

It’s Thursday. And it’s full of regret. 

There’s a sickness in you, from that dreaded day, something beyond what affects your body temperature and your energy. It’s in your mind, flooding the nerves that swim through every crevice and cave of your brain, a physical venom that does the opposite of kill but also the opposite of letting you live. 

There’s a feeling in you, that even if you were to open your mouth, unhinge your jaw, try to scream as loud as your throat would allow, there would be no sound. Something like a horrible dream, that you need to screw your eyes tight shut to fall out of. Except you aren’t waking up from this one. 

In a coffee shop, where Mingyu held your hand in a reassurance you now bleed for, you were sure he was real. Real like some deiform image; too good to be true. 

In your bed, dry tears on your face, midterm packet sifted through that showed you absolutely everything that you did right, thanks to him. He feels too real. Real like a cloud of obsidian that follows you everywhere, like the sad that’s been sleeping with you every night. 

If there was a way to hate someone more than a human limit, you’ve crossed it with the resentment you’ve now fostered for yourself. 

Barging into office hours like that, accusing him on a basis of nothing but your own dangerously stewed thoughts. If there was a hope of salvaged parts, you took a hammer to it in disregard; tearing it to ribbons that lay at your feet. 

It’s Friday.

At least it was. It bled into Saturday before you realised the 3:23 AM on the dial. 

Two weeks of no help and you already feel lightyears behind. The hour is getting to you, and you feel the frustration pool into tears, that turn into full fledged sobs. You’re crying over Bayesian inference and it’s somehow more pressing than any other emotion you’ve ever felt. 

Impossible numbers on your data sheets taunt you, not a single reference to if it was a button you clicked wrong or if you were playing a fool’s game altogether. 

Ding! You pick up your phone, the weight of it is enough gravity to pull you back to earth. 

[Mingyu]: switch to bF10 

[Mingyu]: you’ve been pulling numbers from bF01

It’s immediate the way your eyes dart towards your lit screen, clicking off tables to get to the drop down menu you need. And there on the left, two tiny buttons, one clicked on bF01. 

With shaking fingers, you move your cursor to hover over the tiny bF10, anticipating. You click. It takes a moment for the numbers to change, but they do. The nominal values turn into something you can actually work with. 

Something akin to a tut leaves you, hidden in the breath of another sob. It’s stupid, unreasonable, absurd. Your fingers hover over your phone, shaking as tears drop onto the screen, faster than before. 

Do you not miss me?

Do you not want me around?

Talk to me

I miss you

Please talk to me

“I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true.”

Mingyu is a product of his personality. You can only imagine he’s helped because he saw you struggling in class, heard from someone else, or perhaps, he just knew the very thing you’d make blunders out of. 

The reasons come to you, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. Then why does it hurt? Why does it feel like the knife’s twisted a full 360, that despite the way you accused him of the thing that would strip him of everything he’s bruised himself for, he helps you. The very thing that caused this rift in the first place. 

There’s a reason for that, and it is again, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. 

It’s Saturday. 

Perhaps you relied on your olfactory senses to remain calm, because you always knew you could count on a coffee shop to forever and always smell the same. 

The universe seems to want to ruin that for you too. 

“Latte, please,” you voice. “Iced.”

“We have a one plus one for the week! Would you like to receive another latte?” The lady taking your order looks no older than 17, a pep in her voice. 

“Um, no thank you. Just one, please.”

She looks taken aback, a reasonable reaction to anyone turning down a free drink. But you couldn’t bring yourself to walk home with two cups in hand. 

You’re plucking a napkin from the pickup counter when you hear his name. 

“...that he manipulated her grade because they were hooking up.” 

“He has time to hook up?”

“I remember hearing about that! She barged in during office hours and asked why he fixed her grade or something.” 

“A ninety two? In that class? Oh, they were definitely fooling around with each other.”

“Whatever, at least we know he’ll entertain you if he likes you enough. I’m just glad those two are over so I can swoop in.”

There’s an eruption of giggles. You press your head down further. 

“Unless he flirts in variables.”

“All is forgiven when you’re born with a face like that.” 

Another explosion of giddy laughter, through which your drink is slid across the counter towards you, like it was waiting for you to hear the damning evidence before you could leave. You grab it anyway, grip tighter than usual. 

Turning around, your eyes search, finding a group of people that sit in smiles and in various states of trust-falls. 

There she is, the girl you sat with on the first day you attended office hours, the one with the glitter gel pen doodles on her notes and her blatant fawns over the TA you slipped under just as easily. 

She locks eyes with you and her face falls, eyes widening the slightest bit in recognition. 

Pressing your lips into a smile, you hope it doesn’t look as menacing as you feel. You don’t wait for a response before you walk out the large glass doors.

It’s Sunday.

It seems every sip of water you’ve taken during the week has been used up in all the tears you’ve seemed to be shedding. By the bucketload.

Alas, even blurry and puffy eyed, you pour over statistical formulas anyway, running on no energy and all antagonism. It’s another tutorial sheet left incomplete, a single question taking a pour that lasts in at least an hour of struggle. 

Reading the same question for the nth time, your palms press into your temples as you stare lasers into the paper, like the revelation would come to you if you stared it down hard enough. It doesn’t make sense, the commands you’ve toggled on and off identical to the instructions on the page. 

Hence the question begs why the data was coming out like someone pressed the ultimate on a number generator. 

With a heat of unreasonable embarrassment, you find yourself checking your selection in one of the drop down menus, switching to bF01 and back just to see the difference. It does nothing to help, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved it wasn’t that particular snag. 

The library is as silent as it could possibly be on a Sunday morning, near empty as you occupy the mostly vacant seats. The librarian is having her own day off, as you could swear she’s playing computer games behind the counter instead of actual work. 

The only noise in the room is your own breathing, and that seems to be enough to mess with your concentration. You’re going cross eyed staring at the page for so long, the words doubling and  disappearing before going back to normal. 

Bayesian inference…z scores…null hypothesis…

Wait. 

It’s like you can see it in front of your eyes right now, the scribble of someone else’s dark blue on your notes.

no null hypothesis in bayesian approach

Bayesian approaches don’t use null hypotheses. And z scores are in…

“Oh my god, this is a t test,” you whisper to yourself in disbelief. Immediately, you’re scrambling to shake your laptop out of its sleep, switching over to a t test to redo everything, following the instructions on the same data set. 

And there it was…a clear 0.067 under the p value. 

In a moment of questioning, you laugh out a breathy sound, the absurdity of it all becoming too real. T tests were the first thing you learned, the foundation to all your statistical knowledge. Coming so far, and it took you days to realise the instructions under a Bayesian approach were for a different realm entirely. 

It was stupid of you. But in this difficult aftermath you can’t help but feel victorious. Laughing to yourself quietly in this empty library. 

When the initial adrenaline fades and you’ve double, triple checked to ensure you were right, you can only stare at the tiny mail button in your shortcuts on the screen. It was clearly an error, one that was given out to nearly a hundred students. 

The first step was clicking, your inbox coming to life as you drift towards the big blue button with the readily available NEW MAIL. So you click. 

There’s an attached file in the email you draft. 

The tutorial paper has titled t test instructions as a Bayesian approach. Just wanted to point it out and ask if I could receive a corrected version. 

Regards, YN

It’s almost like you’re trying to remember how it feels like when you type an experimental m in the To bar. His name pops up immediately, email address typed out in full, full name clear on top as a regular contact. 

You don’t need a suggestion to remember, his email came easier to you than your own. 

But you don’t email him, backspacing till it’s empty once again. 

Dr. Cho’s email sits in that place instead, a first for you. 

SEND.

You don’t expect him to reply on a Sunday, in fact, you aren’t sure if he’s going to respond at all. You’ve already shut your laptop, half out of your seat in an attempt to pack up. You’re forced to consider. 

Would it be terrible to go back and cc him as well? 

A spiteful part of you might find joy in correcting him for a change. The rational part of you wants to actually finish the tutorial before tomorrow’s class when you’d have to tackle another beast for the rest of the week. 

Sitting back down, you move without thinking. Your mind is still cooking up possibilities as you swing your screen open once again, still weighing as you click back into your inbox. 

There’s a new email in your sent box after you’re done, a copy of the one you sent your professor, the same attachment and the same question; word for word. The only difference, a more familiar name in the address bar. 

Before you can chicken out, you slam your laptop shut for the actual last time, shoving everything into your bag before the speeding thoughts can infiltrate your mind's barrier. You’re out the door before you know it, ready to be done with this. 

You’re afraid if you put a hand to your stomach it’d be met with kicks and punches, especially with the way you feel the aggressive cartwheels slashing away at your insides. The butterflies are making it to the end of your food pipe, and you briefly wonder if you need to break into a sprint to make it to a safe throwing up zone. Your entire being jolts as you feel a buzz in your hands, a loud click that signifies a new email in your inbox. 

Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, you stop. 

The grip you have on your phone is unyielding, your fingers beginning to hurt from the pressure. There’s no way to tell if you’re shaking or not, but you bring your phone to your face anyway. The screen flips on, a lone notification on the screen. 

RE: Tutorial Error from Kim Mingyu

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since you sent that email, the library still in sight from where you stand. At the same time, it’s almost funny you expected any different from him. 

The kicks and punches in your stomach halt, the cartwheels have calmed, the butterflies have fallen asleep. The grip on your phone has loosened, and it’s like every nerve in your body went from on fire to serenity in a whiplash inducing shift. 

Clicking on the notification, the email opens. 

Noted. I have another tutorial sheet for you if you want it. I’ll be in the room where office hours are held for the rest of the morning.

Kim Mingyu, T.A.

There was no way he didn’t have a softcopy he could send you in less than a minute, and you’re sure he knew you’d realise that too. You should scoff, be upset, roll your eyes. 

But instead, you find your feet making a 180, turning around to go right back to where you came from. You walk, eyes still half trained on the email, reading and rereading as you walk back onto campus, towards the building you’d once considered a second home. 

You walk, and walk and walk, in through the doors, up the stairs and then another set of them, you take a left and look up. The hallway is empty, the door on the right coming into view as you slow your steps significantly. 

Closer and closer, you realise the light surrounding it is brighter than usual. The door is open, and you can see the empty rows of tables and chairs, set neatly against one another. It’s strange, you’ve never seen it wide open before. 

Walking even closer, you can see the beginnings of the professor’s desk come into view, and it only takes you one more step forward. 

Standing in the doorway now, you find yourself in the direct path of the sun that pours in through the open windows. It’s warm, but just enough to combat the cooling weather. 

The desk up front is occupied, as it always is. 

Mingyu is only in a t-shirt and trousers, glasses perched on his nose as he scrawls away on the paper in front of him. His laptop is turned on, screen facing the door where you stand, his inbox open and available even on the weekend. 

It wasn’t that you were waiting for him to notice, but you found yourself inadvertently taking your time looking at him. Every other situation, you’d done your absolute best to avoid your eyes grazing over him at all costs, hardly drifting over his form before flitting away. You never did it on purpose, but it was more like you were unconsciously protecting yourself.

 Like looking at him would only make the ache in your heart worse.

If that was the case, you would’ve been right. There’s a tug in your chest, and in that moment, it all comes flooding in like a gate destroyed. 

Mingyu looks up and sees you in the doorway, standing immobile. He sets his pen down, taking his glasses off. There’s the smallest hint of a smile on his face as he greets you, “‘Morning.”

You take it as your cue to move forward, stepping foot into the patch of sun slowly. “‘Morning.”

You reach the desk, standing in front of him, the only thing blocking you being the littered table with files, papers and stationary; the trench between you both. 

It’s so silent it tears at your insides, gripping the strap of your bag to have something to do. 

“I, uh, double checked when I saw the email. You were right, nobody noticed in class either.” There’s an airiness in his voice, like he might be struggling just as much as you are right now. 

He clears his throat when you don’t respond, looking back down at his workspace like he was looking for something. He finds a paper from some stack, handing it over to you. 

“Thanks,” you hoarse. It’s the same tutorial you had, except the instructions had been crossed out, replaced by a list of handwritten instructions instead, detailed in their annotation. You recognise it, because of course you’d recognise his handwriting. 

“I didn’t have time to print one out right now. I’ll probably send a corrected copy to everyone tonight,” he explains. 

“That’s alright.” You look up, lips pressed together, eyebrows forced into a regular position on your face. Nodding, you thank him once again. “Thanks again. I’ll…get going.” 

Every fibre in your body screams at you to turn back around, hollering profanities at your inability to deal with this. You’re already halfway to the door though, and your pride’s already deemed it too late. 

Please stop me, please stop me, please stop me, please just say something and stop me—

There it is. Your name, from his mouth, in his beautiful voice. 

Turning back around is the easiest thing you’ve ever done. 

Mingyu has stood up from his seat, out from behind the desk. He looks like he wasn’t expecting you to turn back. “Can we talk?” 

And then he’s pulling out the chair he was sitting on, presenting it like a piece offering. If you heard correctly, you could’ve sworn you heard his voice break the slightest bit when he pressed, “Please?”

So there you were, in a position all too familiar as you sit across from the man that’s haunted you for the past weeks, trying to keep your chest from falling in. 

“I guess I should start with an apology,” he’s fidgeting with his own fingers. “I don’t need to give you excuses about stress or exhaustion because…”

He closes his eyes, trying to find the words. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you. You were only trying to help and I was too preoccupied with myself to notice. I’m sorry I spoke to you like that when you didn’t deserve it.” 

For about the millionth time, you realise you’re tearing up again. He continues. “And then…right before the midterm too. You were right, I did feel horrible. But I swear that grade was all you, I didn’t touch those numbers.”

He really didn’t, because the papers he had thrust into your hands on that fateful day in this very room proved that you earned that mark. You wince regardless.

“I thought I could apologise before the exam started but I couldn’t find you, and then you were gone right after. I didn’t text or call because I was sure I’d fucked it all up.” 

“I’m sorry too. For barging in in front of everyone and basically accusing you. I wasn’t thinking straight.” You look up from your lap, wet lashes and all. “I really hope you didn’t get into any trouble.” 

“I–no, I didn’t.”

“Are you sure? Because��”

“I promise I didn’t.” He locked eyes with you when he said that, hoping you’d believe him. You nod slowly. 

“It wasn’t even that bad, what you said,” you sniffled. 

He scoffs at that, “I’d beg to differ.”

“I would’ve gotten over it,” you continue, bracing yourself to admit to something you’ve had trouble admitting to yourself. “I should’ve gotten over it. I don’t know why it hurt so much, why watching you walk out felt so horrible. But I haven’t been acting like normal ever since, and I’m sorry for stretching this whole fiasco out into something that didn’t need to turn into…this!”

“You were hurt because I hurt you.”

“People have said worse things to me. And you were practically a zombie, I should’ve just left it for another time. It was a little bit my fault too. But…yeah.”

There’s a silence as you try to remind yourself to breathe. You speak up again. “I just want us to go back to normal. I’ve missed you. Alot.”

“Me too. The go back to normal bit. And the…missed you bit.”

Mingyu’s half smiling when you look up, biting your lip hard as you try to keep a smile of your own at bay. “I’d thought if I gave up and admitted I was struggling that day, that’d be admitting defeat. That you’d think I…couldn’t do it.” 

Why on earth do you care so much? It rings in your ears. 

You sound light when you say it though, knowing now it wasn’t what he meant.“Since when are we on caring terms?” 

Mingyu cringes. "We are. I am, at least, if you aren't anymore, which is fine. I care about you. A lot."

It’s hard to not let out a laugh. He looks half constipated as he tries to navigate his words. 

“Oh well I’d hope you’d care, since you’re my TA and all.”

“Not in a TA way.”

“Tutor way.”

“Um.”

“Friend way? A human way?” 

“No.”

You both know you’re being obtuse on purpose, and you aren’t sure why. Maybe you just like to watch him squirm. 

“You know what?” he rasps. 

“What?”

Your answer comes in the form of Mingyu lurching to grab the legs of your chair, pulling the wheels to crash into him where he sits. You’re not expecting it, the clashing legs causing you to swerve forward, hands on Mingyu’s lap. 

And then his hand is on the back of your neck, and his lips placed on your own. 

You’re stiff as a board, brain computing the fact that Mingyu is kissing you in a classroom. 

It’s short, hardly a few moments before he pulls away. “Does that clear things up?”

There’s nothing you can do but blink at him, the reality of it all settles in. “Hm.”

He laughs at your half dazed state. It’s a purely instinctual part of you that speaks after this. “Maybe one more time. To make sure.”

Mingyu doesn’t even wait to laugh again as he wastes no time, putting his mouth on yours properly this time. There’s more of a drive in you this time, moving your mouth against his and he keeps your head close. 

The ecstasy is slow but sure to build in your stomach. Mingyu is kissing you. Mingyu is sitting with you and kissing you so good you’re already half faint. 

His mouth tastes like coffee and remnants of berry, a combination you can’t believe you could enjoy this much. Licking into his mouth, you let your tongue drag over his, like the tactile would convince you this wasn’t some too vivid fever dream. 

He pulls away for a moment, but hardly so as his lips remain pressed onto yours. 

“For the record,” he pants. “I love that you care. And I hope you’ll keep caring. Because I don’t think I can handle it if you walk away after this.”

Mouth back on his own, you decide there’s only one way to convince him you weren’t going anywhere without dragging him with you. 

MINGYU'S APARTMENT IS CLEANER than you expected. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, perhaps more mad scientist than anything else. But the most you find is a mug and plate in the sink, and a moderately crowded study desk, which is to be expected. 

Mingyu decided to abandon his work for the day to spend it with you, to which you contest that it was Sunday anyway. His response is making you change into something comfortable of his so you could laze on his couch. 

Like you would run away if he didn’t, Mingyu keeps his arms around you in a tight hold, fingers curling around your shoulders as you lay on top of him. Your head rests directly over his heart, his cheek and lips taking turns to occupy the top of your head.  

You fill him in on everything, and realise the most eventful weeks you’ve spent were actually quite uneventful in hindsight. He feels up your cheek and forehead when you tell him you got sick at one point, to which you have to reassure him it was either something going around or stress that you subjected on yourself. 

“I went to a frat party,” Mingyu mumbles into your forehead. “For Halloween.”

The information has you shifting to look up at him in bewilderment, “You went to a frat party?”

He snorts, “Dressed up for it too.”

“Oh my god,” you voice in mild horror. “Do I wanna know?” 

“Wonwoo and I matched,” he hums as he pulls out his phone, scrolling his gallery to look for pictures. “I was Mario, he was Luigi.”

“How adorable.”

He only gives you a look and shoves the phone in your face. By some grace of god they aren’t wearing moustaches, but the distinct red and green outfits are enough to give you enough recognition. 

“Thing 1 and Thing 2 were also possible contenders,” he informs. 

“That might’ve been a little better.”

“What’s wrong with Mario?” he asks sharply.

“Nothing. But I do hope you weren’t sporting an Italian accent throughout that.” 

“I was,” he pushes. “A horrible one too.”

You give him the satisfaction of an eye roll. 

“You could’ve gone as Peach. We could’ve matched.” 

“I don’t know if I’d wanna wear any available Peach costumes during Halloween time.” You crinkle your nose as you think of all the racy costumes that unearth every October. 

“Maybe in private,” he says with an insufferable smile on his face. 

Placing your hands flat on his chest, you rest your chin and look up at him. “I’m not sure I want to interrupt whatever you two have going on.” 

“Who?”

“You and Wonwoo, you’re practically married.”

Mingyu laughs out loud, and you can feel the rumble in his chest against your hands, his body moving against your own that’s stuck to him. “Not with whatever he has going on with his girl.”

“Oh right,” you frown in remembrance. “What happened to not understanding how he does it?” 

“Hm?”

“He’s a TA too. Probably just as busy as you. You said you didn’t know how he could juggle a relationship and his job at the same time.”

His eyes spark in remembrance, pausing for a moment. “I may owe him an apology.”

“Do you?”

Mingyu frowns, “Actually no I don’t. I don’t think he and his lady are doing too well right now. He’s been insufferable lately.”

“Is it because of the TA-ing?”

“I never know with those two,” he sighs.

There’s silence once again, in the midst of which Mingyu leans over to kiss you a few times, soft and lingering. Like he’s trying to familiarise himself with the shape of your mouth, the tactile feeling of kissing you. 

“Do you…know about us?” There’s hesitancy in the way you ask. But you can’t help but ask anyway.

Mingyu thinks for a moment, and it has your heart beating out of your chest. “I know that I want us to be concrete. That I wanna work around whatever life throws at us. You can decide what to call it, but I know I’m in it for the long run.”

“I’m glad you’re smarter than your husband,” you smile.

He only rolls his eyes, “He’s only good at one kind of chemistry.” 

“D’you think they’ll be okay?”

“Oh yeah,” he assures. “They’re just going through a…rough patch.”

“Like we did?”

“If you’re asking me, I’d say they’re being a little more stupid about it.”

The snort that leaves you is unanimous with his own. He continues, “They’ll be okay though.”

“I hope so. I’d like to go on double dates with my boyfriend’s husband’s girlfriend.” You start giggling in the middle of your sentence, too ridiculous even for you to voice. 

“This is getting weird,” Mingyu breathes. 

You only hum against his mouth, “Do I have to take your husband's blessing before we can move forward?”

“For fuck’s sake.” 

You’re both laughing again, a sound that comes from your stomachs, true and uncontrollable. For a moment, you can’t help but be conscious of how light you feel, how happy you feel with his scent infiltrating your nostrils, his presence known where his fingertips touch you. 

“I did the sticky note thing again too,” Mingyu says into the silence, and there’s nothing you can do to stop the fit of giggles that erupt all over again. 

“Said something worse this time,” he continues as you laugh into his chest. “Accept that you’ll die alone or some other shit like that.” 

There’s comfort in this moment. In your giggles and in your tears, in his voice and in his affection. His lips are another sanctuary you’ve found, and perhaps even another way to make your dreaded latch click. 

Nose nuzzled in his cheek, the feeling of his skin so soft against yours, fingers at his chin where a slight stubble grows, you relax in ways you cannot comprehend. 

MINGYU'S LIPS BECOME A feeling you’ve grown dangerously accustomed to. 

It isn’t that he has them on you too much, regardless of what an outsider might suggest; to you they simply aren’t on you enough. 

The following Monday went as usual, for you anyway. You weren’t avoiding Mingyu this time, and you were grateful for it. It was two hours of following him with your eyes as he darted around the room. You could hardly constitute it as not paying attention when Dr. Cho was preoccupied with explaining every reason he hates JASP over SPSS, but also ultimately, hates them both. 

You don’t even notice his loud outfit (overalls and a neon green sweater underneath), happy to watch Mingyu flit about and whisper incoherent explanations to students. 

The tutorial paper is barely looked at by you, because you know your boyfriend will be happy to help you out later at his place. 

You’re barely through the door that night when he gets a hold of you, tight grip across your waist as you’re catapulted into his arms, door slammed shut behind you. 

Bag still on your shoulders and your shoes still on, Mingyu’s slammed his mouth onto yours before you can take a proper breath. You stumble, squealing through the kiss as you realise you aren’t escaping the iron grip he’s got on your face. 

Somehow between it all, you manage to slip your bag off to let it drop to the floor of his doorway, shoes kicked off one after the other as he leads you inside, littering the way. 

“You aren’t actually paying attention in class anyway,” he breathes against your mouth before kissing you again. “So why don’t you sit in the back where you don’t distract me.”

“Who says I’m not paying attention.” You open your as your back lands on the couch, looking at him as he looms overhead. 

“You’re paying attention to me.”

“It was in my job description when I signed up for the girlfriend position.”

He’s all over you now, hands at your sides, mouth underneath your earlobes as he husks, “Was letting me take you in front of the entire class also a clause? Because if this goes on I might have to take up on that.”

If you didn’t know any better you would’ve assumed he’d been possessed, everything about his behaviour screaming the opposite of the well behaved, restrained man you’ve been accustomed to. The fact that he’s whispering directly into your ears isn’t helping either, a conspicuous shiver dragging across your spine. 

It lands with precision, right at your core. You’re too hot to tell, but there isn’t a doubt you’ve begun to pool. 

There’s a ding in the background. 

He’s suckling underneath your ear, his hands roaming in ways that would smear your reputation altogether. 

Another ding. 

He’s reached your mouth once again, groping your right breast lightly. Like he’s testing the waters.

Ding. 

Mingyu makes a noise of annoyance, the other hand trailing underneath your shirt. 

His ringtone blares throughout the room, whoever the caller was having reached wit’s end. 

“Gyu…” you whisper. 

“Ignore it,” he growls. The ringing has stopped. 

He ducks underneath to kiss at your stomach, lifting your shirt oh so slowly. He goes higher, and higher and higher, leaving a trail of kisses at the skin, taking deep breaths as he drags his mouth over your torso. 

His phone begins to ring again. 

Your head is spinning, your senses overcome. If you weren’t sure before, the air of wetness between your legs is definitely obvious now. 

He brings a hand to your centre, pushing inwards at your jean clad core. You exhale sharply yet shakily. 

The ringing stops. 

Mingyu makes a gumbled sound that you can’t quite make out, too preoccupied with the way your shirt is now up past your bra, at which Mingyu has taken to leaving open mouthed kisses to your cleavage. 

There’s a ding. 

“Mingyu, I really think—”

His phone begins to ring again. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he curses, rearing his head like an interrupted animal, wet mouthed and bleary eyed. He looks at his buzzing phone on the floor in an accusatory glare, like he wants to chuck it out the window and go right back to burrowing into your chest. 

“You should answer.” 

He looks irritated as he takes his phone in his hands, and you find a flash of Dr. Cho’s name on the screen. “It’s eleven O’clock.” 

“It might be important.”

“The last time he did this he asked where his peacock feather pen was,” he grunts as he silences his phone. 

You laugh, running a soothing hand through Mingyu’s hair, a tiny attempt to calm him down. Pulling your shirt down, you attempt to sit up. 

Mingyu makes a noise of denial, attempting to stick his face into your now clothed chest, knocking you back down, “Nooooo, I’m gonna ignore him.”

“He’s not going to leave you alone,” you sing quietly, running your nails across his scalp lightly, holding his head to your chest. You place your cheek on his head, playing with his ear. 

As if to prove your point, Mingyu’s phone begins to ring again, and he groans at the prospect. 

“Go on.”

He swipes to answer it. A loud sigh and then a tired, “Hello?”

His volume is bumped up enough for you to make out what’s being said on the other line. “Where have you been?”

“It’s nearly eleven, sir. I was in bed.”

“My flash drive won’t open up on my computer.”

You have to stifle a snort. 

“Is it…plugged in?”

“Of course it is, I’m not an idiot.”

“Is it showing up on your files?”

“Disk…is not…formatted.”

“Erm, it might be corrupted.”

“How did that happen?”

“Did you download something off the internet onto it?”

“Hardly matters, I need the attendance sheet on it!”

Your fingers are massaging Mingyu’s temples as you feel him tense on top of you. 

“Your attendance sheet is on the teacher’s portal,” Mingyu grits before adding, “sir.”

“...I have other things on there too.”

Mingyu exhales ever so quietly and you tighten your hold on him a smidge. “This sounds like something tech support could help with.”

“Why can’t you help?” he asks sharply. 

“I…I don’t know how, sir.”

There’s a noise of indignation from the other end, and you can’t help but keep from laughing. 

Mingyu sighs into the phone, this time doing nothing to hide it. “I’ll take it to tech support for you tomorrow. And I’ll send you a direct link for the attendance sheet for Monday and Tuesday’s classes.”

The line beeps shut. Mingyu brings the phone for you both to see the professor’s hung up as soon as the words left Mingyu’s mouth. 

“Wow,” you whisper into the silence, the weight of Mingyu’s head heavier on your chest. “Not even a thank you.”

“Absent father behaviour,” Mingyu grumbles as he moves his face to burrow into your shirt. 

It’s a bad joke, but you laugh anyway. 

“Will I be an asshole if I say I’m not in the mood anymore?” he murmurs. 

“Absolutely not. Everything sucked right back in the minute I heard his voice on the line.”

“Gross,” he comments, but he’s laughing too. 

“Should we call it a night?” he asks, rearing his head. 

Nodding, you rise with him. By the time you’ve reached the bedroom, you’ve already begun taking off your accessories, fiddling with your bracelet as you voice. 

“I need a shower.”

Mingyu throws you a towel and a t-shirt, which you catch and move towards the bathroom. Halfway through the door, you sneak a look at him fiddling with his belt. 

“Do you wanna come in too?” 

Mingyu looks at you peering through the door frame. You’ve never seen anyone leap across the room as quickly as in that moment. 

THE FOLLOWING DAYS WERE just as eventful as that phone call, Mingyu running around as the midterm low passed and the line creeped up towards finals season. 

Perhaps it was better that you stopped attending office hours, because the room seems to become increasingly packed as the days progressed. 

You only ever saw Mingyu in the wee hours of the night at his place, where he begged you to camp out till the end of the semester so he “doesn’t move to insanity”. It might even be better for you, going about your day as usual, without the usual added distraction of a partner.

Coming home to him was easier, where he could clear up your doubts while in ratty pyjamas and starfished across the bed, where you could find solace in Mingyu’s chest without prying eyes when the information became like filling an already stuffed junk drawer. 

It was a Friday night, you’re alone at Mingyu’s place sitting cross legged on the floor. The table in front of you is pouring over the final question of this week’s tutorial paper, everything seemingly whizzing right past the top of your head. 

Despite that, as Mingyu stumbles inside past eleven, you know you shouldn’t ask him for a thing. 

Tired was a look on Mingyu you’d gotten quite used to, so you’ve learned to not comment and simply let him fall into the couch cushions with all his weight. 

His face is parallel to yours as he closes his eyes with a light groan in greeting. Moving forward, you kiss the flutter of his eyelids softly, down to the apple of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth. 

Your fingers run through his tangled and distressed hair as he mumbles against your mouth. “Did you finish the tutorial paper?”

You huff in mild annoyance, that despite his state he still thinks about work. “Not yet. One last question and I’m done.”

He hums and waits a moment before reopening his eyes. With a loud groan he’s pushing himself off the couch, sliding off of it to sit with you on the uncomfortable floor. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

“I can figure it out myself, Gyu.”

“You would’ve been done by now if you could,” he answers. It’s annoying that he says it but he’s also right. 

Mingyu holds the paper a mere inch from his eyes, the sight almost comical if he also didn’t look an inch from passing out. 

He mumbles the question as he reads, “It’s nothing, just worded weird. Toggle this off and move this to mixed factors and you’re done.”

The toggles are done for you, and Mingyu takes the liberty crossing he question off with a pen he finds on the table. 

“Did you get everything else?” he asks in earnest. 

“Hm? I think so.” 

“Good.” And then he’s throwing his head back to rest it on the couch cushions behind him, breathing slowly. 

He’s in a navy sweater, collar of his undershirt peeking through the top. Your gaze leads up further, to the exposed area of his throat—clean, tan and naked. You realise this might not be a good time, but it’s only natural your mind cooks up other ways to translate your helplessness as you watch your boyfriend push himself to the brink. Release is never a bad idea. 

Besides, it’s a Friday night. No reason to not. 

“Gyu,” you shuffle closer. 

Lolling his head to look over at you, he answers in a small voice, “Yeah?” 

You put on the guiltiest face you can muster, complete with darting eyes and fidgeting fingers. “D’you think…d’you think you can go over post hoc tests again?”

“Post hoc?” He furrowed his eyebrows. You bite the inside of your cheek, having blurted the first plausible model you could think of to ask him. It’s an older bit of the syllabus, something you should already be well versed in. 

Not that you care what he thinks right now, he’d figure out why you were asking anyway. 

“Post hoc, um,” he rubs a hand over his face as if to jog his memory. 

Shifting forward, you plaster you front onto his side. He thinks nothing of it. 

“Analysis tool after you’ve already run the data,” he begins. 

Placing your chin on his shoulder, you let your nose nuzzle against his cheek. Trailing up, your lips find the shell of his ear. 

“Results have to be…they have to be…” He falters when your hand reaches his front, running across the expanse of his clothes stomach, nails digging ever so slightly as you reach his abdomen. You continue to place open mouthed kisses at the space of neck you can reach. 

“Hm? Has to be what?”

“Statistically significant,” he breathes when your palms reach the tops of his thighs. “To run a post hoc test.”

His trousers are less barrier inducing than regular jeans, something you’re both grateful for as you begin to palm his clothed bulge. “Results of what, baby?”

“For the love of—”

“Go on,” you whisper in his ear. “Please.”

One flick and his trousers are unbutton, pulling them aside as the zipper pulls open. You're pushing down his boxers when he answers you. “ANOVA.” 

“What’s that again?”

“You little shit.”

You move your mouth forward to kiss him.

“Analysis of variance.” 

You hum against the column of his throat at that, his half hard member in your hands. Light touches, that’s all they are, running the pads of your fingers across the pulsing length, coaxing him into full length. 

“What’s it for though? We already got our results.” Bending forward, you stick your tongue to kitten lick at his tip. Mingyu hisses, hips shifting. Your tongue swirls around the tip, pushing into the skin on the head where he’s most sensitive. 

“Ugh, fuck, for um,” he falters as you begin to suck at his head, tongue running over each hollow of your cheeks. 

“For…for…” His chest is moving up and down in quick breathes, every sound from his mouth coming from a deep rumble in his stomach. 

Letting go of his cock, you continue to pump him with your hand as you gaze up at him from your position. “For? Keep talking, baby.”

“For…To identify groups,” he grunts out. He lets out a louder moan when you place your mouth back on him, going past his tip and taking as much as you can of him into your mouth. “Identify…the differences, shit, hmph.”

He takes a loud breath before speeding through it again, “Identify which groups actually differ, oh my god.”

The bit of him that you can’t fit on your mouth is being pumped by your hands, fingers pushing into him like you were trying to indent them on the base of his cock. A glance upwards and you find his head thrown back, hands coming to tangle in your hair. His thumb caresses the side of your cheek.

“How many groups?” you ask, before diving back in. 

“Three,” he chokes out. “Three or more, oh I’m gonna cum, fuck don’t stop, holy shit.”

Both of his hands are at your head, guiding you as you suck him harder, faster, more tongue digging into his slit. You hum against his dick on purpose, making sure it’s coarse enough to get the reaction you want. 

You succeed, because immediately after you hear Mingyu rip out the loudest moan you’ve ever heard, his grip on your strands harder than ever. He cums into your mouth, hips stuttering as you place your entire weight on him to keep him in place. 

You let some of it dribble out your mouth and back over his softening dick like a hot coating, sucking him through shooting spurts of cum that land on your tongue. 

When you emerge from underneath, Mingyu looks like he got the soul sucked out of him; eyes closed, stuttered breaths raking through his entire body, a light sheen of the beginnings of sweat that glisten in the low light of the room. 

Reaching for the tissue box and water bottle on the table, you soak the napkins and bring them to clean him up. He whines when the cold tissues touch him where he’s most sensitive right now, you want to kiss him but account for the cum that is actively stuck to the walls of your mouth. 

You leave for a few minutes, much to Mingyu’s hoarse protests. He’s almost on all fours, hands on the floors as you promise to be back. By the time you’ve hauled his tired ass into bed, you’re just as ready to knock out as the half asleep man beside you. 

Mingyu’s face is plastered into your neck, arms and legs thrown over your form as he hugs you close to him. 

“I might love you,” he says into the darkness. A secret, just for you and the walls to hear. 

You hide the way your heart absolutely leaps, conceal the way your hands tighten around his form into an affectionate caress, hold your breath to prevent the inevitable hitch. 

I might love you too. 

You hide that as well. For now. 

Smiling into the skin of his temples, you sigh.

“Feel free.”

[Mingyu]: class ended early 

[Mingyu]: be there in 5 

[You]: ???

[You]: wdym ended early

[You]: kim did u end class early to come home

Your response comes in the form of the front door lock jiggling loudly. You’d stayed the night at his place, knowing you didn’t have anything to do but study by yourself. Sickly as you were, you doubt you could sit through two hours of even more statistics. 

He’d left you in bed with a kiss, needing to be extra early since Dr. Cho decided to dump the last crucial few weeks leading up to finals season entirely on his TA. As much as there was on Mingyu’s already overflowing plate now, you couldn’t deny the elated feeling of your attendance being taken care of regardless of whether you show up to class or not. 

A very real violation, but no one truly notes one skipped student in the midst of hundreds. Besides, the bag under Mingyu’s pretty eyes might be enough for anyone to have mercy and let the supposed mistake slide.

As Mingyu walks into the room, shoes flying and back dumped on the floor, he finds you still half clothed with leftover sleep in your eyes, standing in the middle of the living space like you were lost. 

He drops his things to come and drown you in his arms, loud kisses all over your face as you talk. “You’re getting too comfortable with this job.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t possibly expect me to teach a bunch of half asleep idiots when my woman is all alone at home, sickly and cold without me.”

You grumble wordlessly as you feel him check your temperature with the back of his hand. “How’s the congestion?”

“Bad,” you respond nasally. “I can’t find my Afrin.”

“It’s on the bedside table, baby.”

“No, it’s not.”

Still wrapped in his hold, Mingyu begins to take steps forward that lead towards the bed, pushing you to walk backwards.

“I’m not awake enough to navigate,” you sniff.

“I’ve got you,” he lowtones, pushing backwards slowly. 

The back of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back into the unmade sheets. You crawl back under the covers as Mingyu navigates between used tissues, water bottles and pills on the bedside table. But no sign of your nasal spray. 

You have to breathe through your mouth and you hate it, but you send a remark his way anyway. “Told you.”

Mingyu bends down and emerges with a familiar red capped bottle. He stares at you while you stare at it, choosing to simply snatch it from his presenting hands and be done with it. 

“Good thing I came back early, hm?” 

“Shut up.”

He leaps over your form to claim the spot in bed right next to you, still fully clothed as he burrows under the covers next to you.

There’s nothing flattering about the way you stick the nozzle up your nostrils and sniff hard, but the gleam in your boyfriend’s eyes might as well suggest you were trying to get him to look at you like that. 

“Are you gonna keep doing this till finals?” you ask throatily, shifting under the covers. 

“Teaching during class time is just extended office hours, I’m gonna go insane if I keep going like this. Probably just today. Or…once more if I feel it.”

“Didn’t you say you were gonna extend office hours to Fridays too?” 

Mingyu moulded himself against you, giving warmth to your shivering body even under thick blankets. 

It seems throughout the course of your relationship, your time with Mingyu is either spent laying down or in the process of doing so. Not that you mind, you’ve found that remaining horizontal was what worked best for someone like Mingyu who seemed to want to fuse with your very being whenever you were together.

“Ugh, not this week. Do not have the patience.”

“I’m proud of you,” you say, eyes closed, already on the highway to dreamland. 

“Thank you, I do think I’ve been very brave.” Even while slipping into dreamland, you find the good sense to find his nipple through his sweater and give it a hard pinch. He jerks away in a yelp, clutching his chest. 

“What’s that for?!”

You ignore him and simply run your hand over the area you just attacked. “You’ve gotten better at knowing when to slow down. I’m proud of you.”

You’re too far gone to make out what he answers you with, but with the hot breath against your already warm forehead, you decide it's more than enough for you. 

MINGYU DOES IT FOR the fourth time, but this time round he’s smart enough to not tell you. 

It’s the Friday before finals week officially begins, and you remain in your own place for once to crack down on the last bits of syllabus you want to go over, away from your extremely distracting boyfriend. 

There’s a text when you check your phone after a couple hours of hyperfocus, and you narrow your eyes at the notification. 

It’s Wonwoo’s (actual) girlfriend, and she’s sent you nothing but a picture of both of your men on Wonwoo’s living room floor, thoroughly occupied with the floored expanse of sheets, pillows and cushions. 

It’s a pillow fort.

Your boyfriend is building a pillow fort in his not-husband’s living room mere days before the final exam for the most dreaded course of the semester. All while he’s actively meant to be available for office hours.

You want to laugh. The man that stayed up multiple nights to answer stupid questions in emails, is now less than concerned about the pandemonium that is probably ensuing in the department building. It isn’t that you’re upset, because this was what you wanted from him. To learn to take a break when it was needed. But you would also prefer he’d time them a little better. 

Inevitably, you text him, but not before sending an encouraging text to your girlfriend-in-law for putting up with the both of them all by herself. 

[You]: where are you

[Mingyu]: where im meant to be?

[You]: office hours?

[Mingyu]: mhm

[You]: are u and ur husband conducting them under a pillow fort in his house

You imagine him sending Wonwoo’s girlfriend a betrayed look. Perhaps even throw a frilled throw pillow in her unassuming direction. 

[Mingyu]: DONT KILL ME

You let him suffer in your silence, clicking your phone off and leaving it somewhere you won’t be tempted to look. 

Besides, it wasn’t long before there was an incessant banging at your door that you ended up needing to get up to open. He looks so timid, the face of an innocent perpetrator that waltzes into your space. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins, following you to your desk like a lost duckling. 

“Whatever for?”

“For lying.” 

You snort as you sift through tutorial sheets, “Might wanna take that up to the poor hopeless student that thought you were their last hope.”

Mingyu’s head sinks to your shoulder where you sit at your desk. “God.”

“Him too.”

In another few moments, his arms have come around to cage you into your desk where you’re sat, hands placed on the table as he towers over the top of your head, mouth to crown. 

“Rumour has it,” he starts. 

You make a face. “Now you’ve joined in on gossip? Maybe I have steered you wrong.”

He ignores you valiantly as his mouth drops lower, down to the beginnings of the tips of your ears. You can smell him. He smells good. 

“That a textbook recitation is all it takes to get you all bothered down there.”

Lifting your head from its craned position over your papers, you stare straight ahead. Blank and unassuming. 

“Take a hike, Kim.”

“...Sorry.”

NO MATTER HOW FAKE annoyed you were at your boyfriend, you cannot possibly credit anyone else for how smooth your finals had gone. 

Not a single tear, hack or whine. Your meals were on time, your sleep schedule the healthiest it’s been for months. You even managed a movie night break in the midst of it all. A record for you. 

The very first thing you do after walking out of the exam hall, stretching and sighing, you find Mingyu waiting with nervous eyes. 

“Well?” he asks, eyes wide and lips pulled into his teeth. 

You merely grab for his hand and pull him out of the crowded hall and past a few familiar turns. 

“For the record I didn’t want some of the questions on there,” he yaps as he follows behind your stalks. “Hard ones weren’t mine. I promise I’m not a sadist.”

Then, in an un-CCTV’d corner, marked by the broken, empty vending machine, you round up on him. In seconds you’ve pulled him down to meet your lips in an eager, full kiss. 

In the moments your lips remain intact, you can feel all the horrid statistical knowledge you’d gathered over the months slip out the cracks and crevices, relieving you. 

Mingyu is careful to let you pull away first, eyes sticky to open when you do. There’s a smile on your face. “It went great.”

A strong tug against your waist and you’re suddenly pressed into Mingyu’s all too familiar hold, so everloving tight you can hardly breathe. His lips are smacking and pressing into your skin, all over your face, neck and hands. Anywhere he could possibly reach. 

There wasn’t much he could do standing in a huddled corner at nine in the morning on a Tuesday, where anyone could pass by and question what in the high school was going on. But there was more than enough Mingyu could do behind closed doors. 

In true Mingyu fashion, he’s begun to grope in every way you love the minute the lock clicks shut of his apartment, every fibre of both of your beings giddy and jumpy, giggles erupting from your tired mouths. You haven’t been touched in ages, always too tired to do anything even when you would find the time. 

It isn’t remotely strange that you're wet from only a few kisses and hot breaths against your neck. Although Mingyu’s hands haven’t been modest either, already reaching your clothed cunt as you fall into bed. 

He says it was your reward, for doing so good, his illustrious mouth suctioned onto your naked core, moving and grinding in ways you can more than just appreciate.

His tongue is nothing below made for you, like he knows exactly when to flick his tongue, graze his teeth and all but suck the daylights out of you. It’s marvellous, even more so as you realise he won’t stop. One, two, three mind blowing orgasms later, your legs still shake around his head as you cry out for him to stop. 

Not that he was going to listen, as he did not the last fifteen times you tried, simply pushing a finger into your abused hole to chuck you into yet another climax. You’re sobbing, trembling, sweating; but also half hearted in your attempts to stop him. 

By the time he’s relented, you’re sure you won’t feel a thing down there for at least a week. If Mingyu will even let you go untouched for that long. 

But as you’re finally able to catch your long lost breath in bed, and Mingyu has curled up right beside you, like he always does, you let the finality of it all sink in. You were done. And so was he. And you could now begin to experience a Mingyu that wasn’t exhausted, stressed or tired. Even now, the long indented layers of fatigue begin to melt away, revealing a less strained man. 

Mingyu was beautiful either way. 

“Are you okay?” he asks you, his fingers tracing your features. 

The pads of his fingers glide across your eyelids, down the slope of your nose, tracing the outline of your lips. You kiss his fingers as they reach you there, hand coming up to hold his wrists. You kiss the tips of his fingers, down to the palm of his hand. Eyes closed, you keep your lips there. 

“More than okay,” you mumble. 

“Good. Thought I lost you there.”

Stretching unceremoniously, you drape yourself over his naked form, head on his shoulder. “You’re not losing me. Not after being the sole reason I pass this devil’s module.”

“Is that all it takes? Make sure you don’t fail?”

“And give head like that.” It’s a half joke. “But also be Kim Mingyu comma TA.”

He mimics you between a breathy laugh, “Comma TA. Not anymore, I guess.”

“How happy are you?”

“Still have to grade the last set of papers. But I got what I wanted.”

“The recommendation? You deserve it.”

“That, and not having to be in Dr. Cho’s presence every other day. And you.”

You kiss his shoulder. “Look at you. All grown up with your big boy grad school on the horizon.”

“Not just yet.”

“You’ll get there too. If you can power through this hellsent semester, you can power through anything grad school applications throw.”

Mingyu shifts where he lays, taking a turn to lie on his side to face you. The afternoon sun peeks from behind his form, his outline made of pure gold. His breath is in your face as he talks, and there’s comfort in the air it penetrates.

“I only powered through this because of you. I hope you know that.” He’s smiling. 

“Girlfriend duties,” you quote solemnly. 

“I mean it. I knew I was walking into disaster with how this stupid job was going, all that work was just a distraction. I didn’t wanna believe this was a bad idea. And then you walked in.”

You cup his face and pout, “Oh, my damsel in distress.”

“Hm, my knight in shining armour,” he giggles. “Galloped in and saved me from myself.”

“You saved me too. From the world and its horrible creations.” 

“I’ll start talking in formulas if this keeps up.” 

You can only grumble in mild annoyance. 

“I’m glad I asked you to come in early that day,” he says.

“I’m glad I was a good samaritan and gathered all your stuff that day.” You grin.

Mingyu leans in and kisses you. It’s soft, slow, and drips of the romance he’s trying to bring into the conversation. His lips are bliss, the feeling of him is bliss. 

It’s almost scary how easily you’ve been able to give yourself to him. How quickly he’s placed himself in every nook and cranny of your heart. With his tired eyes and stronger than himself smile, the hand he extended in ways beyond you could ever explain to him. It’s terrifying when you realise what remains on the tip of your tongue, ready and bursting. 

But it’s true, and you can only pray it remains that way. Because in that moment, naked and tangled between Mingyu’s limbs, his heart in your ears, your hands on his being, you just know. 

“I think I might love you too.” 

[lolabangtan]

sideshow | jjk

You’re a successful cam girl in need of a hot guy with a big cock, and you think you’ve found your match.

Word count: 9k

Warnings: smut, dub-con fantasy.

# cam girl!reader, coffee shop AU, mutual pining, hand job, oral sex (female and male receiving), squirting, face sitting, restraints, unprotected sex, face-fucking, dacryphilia, overstimulation and post-orgasm torture, teasing/degradation, cream pie, cum play, recording kink, dub-con role play, they’re so cute *sobs*

A/N: let’s not ask about this and enjoy it without wondering where the inspiration came from.

You’re always staring at him. When you’re in line waiting for your order, chatting with someone else when he’s nearby, or even when you secretly spot him working as you pass by the window – you’re always staring at Jeon Jungkook.

Your friends mock you for it whenever they get the chance. It’s almost as if you, the sexy, mysterious girl who records herself for a living, having such a silly, wholesome crush on someone was the most amusing thing they’ve ever heard. But a guy like him, so kind and hot and funny, is worth it, and you won’t deny it.

But being honest, they’re right by showing their surprise. You just don’t come off as the kind of girl who’d fall for a guy like him.

Apart from being kind, hot, and funny, Jeon Jungkook is also extremely popular while still being down to earth. An endangered specimen – if there’s ever been one before. He’s got his tattoos, and his adorable dog, and his decent schoolwork managing skills, and his outstanding talent at any sport to ever exist. And in the meantime, you sometimes catch him staring back, so your mind has to work twice as much to fish for an excuse. You just think it’ll be better in the long run.

Because honestly, people always talk. They point at you, make comments, or ask creepy questions. Surely Jeon Jungkook, with his brilliant future, doesn’t want that just because his cock might get hard with one of your videos.

In a way – a stupid, pointless way – you’re always staring at each other.

“You could try and talk to him one day, you know. Maybe then you’ll see there’s literally not a single thought behind those silly doe eyes.”

You can’t help laughing at Seokjin’s words, almost choking on your coffee. “Isn’t that a bit mean? I thought you liked him.”

“And I do!”

“Hm, look at the time.” You check your phone before putting it back into your purse. “I’d better hurry if I don’t wanna keep my sister waiting. We’ll talk later, okay? And I will not approach him just because. I really don’t need any gossip about me.”

Well, you’re just stressed. You need some money for your Spring break trip to the beach, but you aren’t exactly thrifty. Actually, you’re quite the opposite.

So, you’ve come up with an idea: charging for requests and uploading them to your website. The answer from your subscribers was immediate and increasingly positive, with only one problem.

The most voted idea was a POV, which sadly required another person to join you. Someone with a big, nice cock if it’s possible. You’d ask Seokjin, but he’d never let his almost little sister-like friend suck his cock and give him four orgasms in a row. And it’s not something you’d do either in a world where you weren’t desperate.

You’re not going to lie, there’s only one person you’d want to do that video with – and he’s walking out into the backbar right now.

The two of you stop at the same time as you walk past each other. Not noticing his presence next to you, you keep looking at the poster with the newest sweet additions to the menu and sigh with satisfaction at the fact that you’ll be able to keep enjoying your good old butter croissants.

Then you turn around.

“Oh, shit— sorry! God, I’m so clumsy! Let me help you.”

You squat down to pick up the broken pieces of glass scattered on the floor. When you look up, you’re met with the sight of a staring Jeon Jungkook bent in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to repeat.

His lips twitch as if he wanted to say something, but the man keeps quiet as you hand him back his stuff. You can’t help looking down at his muscular arms, covered in black ink. Although Jungkook remains impassive and cool, here you are, practically malfunctioning – while he’s probably wondering why the cam girl hasn’t left yet.

“Just— be careful. Don’t cut yourself.”

He does look like a bunny, now that you think of it. A really hot bunny.

Fucking shit, you can’t help it, can you? To stare, to drool, to picture your hands stroking down his chest, kneading the flesh. You love ripped guys, especially when it doesn’t get over their heads. You’d eat him up in a second, pinky promise.

“Sorry,” you say again, standing up. “I wasn’t looking.”

“Y/N! Are you okay?”

Namjoon rushes up to you, breaking the strange silence between you and Jungkook. He sees the mess and starts to pick up the broken pieces, asking you to step back just in case. With a nod, the youngest offers to go and fetch a broom, and Namjoon thanks him.

Your friend lets out a laugh. “Only with my homeboy, huh?”

“Hm?”

“You only get like this with Jungkookie,” he explains. “The rest of the time, you’re a merciless succubus.”

“Shut up, he’s gonna hear you,” you groan.

Namjoon starts wiping the floor, and you help him by picking up the plastic bag.

“Do you think he likes you back?”

You shrug. “I guess he might be attracted to me, but I don’t think he likes me... in that sense. I don’t care, though – it’s not like we’re a match or something. I’m probably just attracted too.”

Jungkook comes back with the broom and cleans the floor while you look around in a poor attempt to avoid his eyes. You don’t notice the way he looks at you, nor the pent-up frustration with which he grips the stick of the broom, his lips twitching again.

“Well, I, uh— I’ll leave you to it. And sorry again, I wasn’t looking.”

With that, you rush out of the coffee shop and run down the street until you reach the number you were looking for. Taking out your keys, you open the door and walk in, going directly to the second floor.

When you get into the flat, the storm unleashes:

“God, I was so worried! You should’ve told me you’d be running late.”

Like always, visiting your older sister comes with a nagging and a steamy cup of coffee. You’re enjoying both of them sitting in her kitchen.

“You’re exaggerating,” you groan.

“Yeah, sure, it’s not like any of your creepy fans could ever doxx you or something and kidnap you.” With a raised eyebrow, you stare at her over the mug. “Hm, okay, just build the habit of telling me if you’re gonna be late, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So” – she turns around with a grin and leaves her mug in front of you – “who is this Jungkook guy and why haven’t you asked him out already?”

Your face turns a bright red. “How do you know about—? Fucking Jin...”

“Come on, you’re usually bolder. You really like him, don’t you?” At your shrugging, your sister chuckles. “You’re entitled to like people, you know that, right? And hit on them, and ask them out. Just because you had a few bad experiences—”

“It’s just not gonna happen,” you blurt out. “You know why? First, because he’s not remotely interested in me. And second, because I know, I just know how this is going to end if I do,” you continue, your face growing warmer. “And I don’t care about all the nice guys out there because, in the end, they’re all the same; dicks with an excuse of a brain.”

“You want to have sex with him, don’t you?”

“Uh, yeah?”

She laughs again. “Then try the opposite! You think he’d only be interested in the shagging? Go shag. And then see if he stays.”

You bury your face in the palms of your hands, thankful for the chilly contact. The skin cools down, and a sigh escapes from your lips.

“What if he says no?”

“Then he doesn’t want to fuck. That’s uncommon for a man so, one point for him.”

Ah, yes, your sister and her logic; it’s utterly stupid and yet, you always fail to rebuke her absurd reasoning. It’s almost a talent, you think. Maybe that’s why she’s a lawyer.

“Well, I do have a plan,” you murmur.

Her eyes brighten immediately. “Then go for it, tiger! He’s super cute, and super hot! Better get your heart broken by a ten if all men suck.”

The coffee shop is almost closing when you arrive; you had asked Namjoon who was closing tonight so, when you heard it’d be him, you rushed out of your sister’s place to get there in time. This is a one-time chance.

You spot him behind the window, wiping a cup.

There’s a sigh coming out from his mouth when the door jingles open. The common frustration of having a last-minute customer.

“Hey.”

“Ah— it’s you,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, and you frown. “I-I mean, I thought you were some annoying random, sorry… I don’t mind making you a coffee.”

Oh, that was nice. Very nice.

You quietly take a seat at the counter. “Thanks.”

“Uh, so…” You’re lucky Jungkook isn’t facing you, turned from you instead as he turns on the coffee machine. Otherwise, he’d notice your red face and the eagerness with which you listen to him as he stutters, “I-it’s pretty late— for a coffee. Do you have to stay up late tonight?”

“Not exactly.”

Finally, Jungkook turns around and hands you the coffee, looking pretty much puzzled.

“I was wondering if you’d like to work with me,” you finally let out, and your chest feels weightless for a second— until you come back to earth and realise that you’ll have to hear an answer.

He’s looking at you in complete silence.

Maybe he really doesn’t know that you’re a cam girl? Maybe he’s just thinking about what your job could be and how could the two of you possibly work together. Or maybe he’s just zooming out, who knows? It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Do you want me to, uh, e-edit a—?” Jungkook gets cut off by his own coughing as his cheeks turn red. “Sorry, edit a video... for you?”

Ah.

Of course he knows.

He knows, so there’s a chance he might have watched one of them. Maybe all of them. Perhaps Namjoon told him about it, or perhaps he thought you looked familiar and asked him. In his mind – and that’s what makes it awkward, and not the fact that he’s probably watched you naked or touching yourself – he knows what you work for, and every single interaction is stained with that.

“Uh— not... Not really.” You don’t notice, but Jungkook holds his breath, and his heart starts beating faster. “It was more along the lines of making one together.”

Your heart is beating fast too.

“Me?”

Well,  I’ve been told that you’ve got a big cock, oh, and because I have a crush on you.

You shrug. “Thought you could use the money, and you do have a nice body— your face wouldn’t show, though.”

“I, uh...”

“Just asking if you were down!” you blurt out then, stepping back. “Of course, it’s up to you. I understand if you’re not comfortable with us, uh, having—”

“I-I get you,” he laughs. Now his face is as red as a strawberry.

In silence, you stand there, waiting for an answer. However, it seems like neither of you is functioning properly at the time, so you clear your throat with your heart clenching painfully in your chest and let out a shaky laugh:

“Of course, it’s too weird, so, uh— forget I said anything. Thank you for considering it, have a nice day!”

You rush out of the café, but his voice stops you:

“Wait!”

You turn around and look at him; he looks positively embarrassed, even more than you, although it’s understandable – probably due to the circumstances – so, you wait, breath hitching, for him to continue.

Jungkook looks away. “I— I didn’t say no.”

“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” you rush to clarify. “That’s my number.” You hand him a business card, which he seems too afraid to check. “Call me… if you’re interested. I’ll leave now, thank you for your time. And— uh, nothing. Bye.”

“Bye…”

By the time you leave the coffee shop, your heart is beating so hard that you think it could be a stroke. Your cheeks are boiling hot, and you struggle to walk down to the bus stop while your legs wiggle. You did it, it’d done – you’ve already asked Jeon Jungkook to film an erotic video with you for your page.

You don’t get any signs of life from Jungkook until two days later, at two in the morning.

Namjoon told you that they had met some friends for a drink after closing time, so you’re not surprised that he’s up so late. He also tends to go to bed late when he stays up playing console games.

[Saturday, 2:17 AM] Unknown: Hello, Y/N.

[Saturday, 2:17 AM] Unknown: It’s Jungkook.

[Saturday, 2:18 AM] Unknown: I have been thinking about it and, if the offer still stands, I accept.

Your heart immediately somersaults the glowing letters on your screen. Reality fell on your shoulders, and you finally understood that you would be filming that video with Jeon Jungkook. Maybe you could ask him out on a date later, but it’d be tomorrow’s you’s nuisance to worry about rejection. For the time being, you’re going to get on with the script so that you can send it to him as soon as possible.

[Saturday, 5:43 AM] You: Cool, I’ve attached the script. Just let me know if there’s anything you don’t feel comfortable with or want to change. When are you free?

[Saturday, 5:44 AM] You: Of course, we’ll go through your limits before filming.

Jungkook’s reply doesn’t arrive in time for you to read it; as soon as you’re done with it, you plummet into your bed and fall asleep, totally exhausted.

[Saturday, 5:49 AM] Jeon Jungkook: Looking forward to it!

[Saturday, 5:49 AM] Jeon Jungkook: I mean

Jeon Jungkook has deleted this message

Jeon Jungkook has deleted this message

The bell goes through your head like a nail. Your mouth is dry and your body trembles, but you get up to open the door in the hope that it’s not Jungkook behind it.

After you had sent him the script, it took him a while to answer. Then, after three hours, he only answered ‘okay’ and asked you when you would be meeting. You agreed on the day and time, and here you are, turning the doorknob with your heart beating through your chest.

“Hi, come in.”

You step aside, and Jungkook walks into your small flat; it’s cute and cosy, with the golden light coming in through the windows. His black clothes soak in it as you watch him get comfortable and, for a second, it feels like he’s coming over for a date, just to hang out. It feels nice, that small, minute, short second.

“Want anything to drink?”

“Yes—” Jungkook clears his throat. “Yes, please. Water’s good.”

You come back with two glasses of water and sit in front of him on the couch, determined to calm down your nerves.

“Okay, so, I understand that you read the script, right?” you ask, and he nods instantly, perhaps too quickly. “Uh, so… is there anything you’d like to change? Anything you don’t feel comfortable with?”

Jungkook glances at you only to look away in the blink of an eye. He’s biting his lip again.

“No, hm, everything sounds good so far. I mean— t-there’s nothing I don’t like, like… there’s nothing that turns me… off.” He eventually gets discouraged to keep talking and gulps down the glass of water in front of him. “Sounds good, you know, with the angle you suggested.”

“Nothing at all? Are you sure? I wrote a lot of things.”

He keeps avoiding your eyes. “Yeah, I’m cool with it… And I brought the test results.”

“Good,” you murmur and take the papers as he hands them out to check them. “All clean, that’s good. I’ve got mine too, and I’m on birth control, obviously.”

“Cool.”

“I liked your suggestions for the plot, by the way.” Maybe it’s better to give Jungkook some praise for his effort, that way he will relax a little around you. “A bit wicked— but in a good way. Did you get it from a movie?”

He turns red in a second, and you have to press your thighs together. “N-no, I— it just came to my mind. I can add the effects later.”

You nod slowly and clear your throat.

Once the both of you have gone through every single detail of the script, you’re half turned on, half mortified. It’s almost as if your brain hasn’t fully processed that you will be doing all of this with Jungkook in an hour, or maybe even earlier.

“It’s okay if you’re nervous,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t come off shaky. “And, well, we can stop at any moment, okay? We’ll just stop everything, no hard feelings.”

“Thank you…”

You give him a robe and show him the bathroom, where he gets changed and washes up only to return to your bedroom; that’s where you record everything, but there is a tarpaulin covering the whole wall, including the window. This way, and with a VPN, you make sure you keep your affairs decently hidden.

You’re also wearing a robe when Jungkook walks in, revealing the sight of your cleavage.

You walk up to him. “All good?” you ask. “Do you want anything? A glass of water? Viagra, or an energy bar?”

Jungkook stares at you, a bit surprised, or taken aback by the joke. You turn around in shame, with an apology on your lips, before you notice the way his cheeks turn red and an amused smile creeps to his own.

“A glass of water’d be great, thanks.”

When you return from the kitchen, you’re also bringing along a bunch of papers. “Here are the test results, I’m all clean. Thank you” – Jungkook hands you his own results, and you skim-read them – “I’m also on birth control, in case I didn’t tell you already, so feel free to, uh…”

“O-okay, gotcha.”

Luckily, he doesn’t make any faces as you shut up, discouraged; why are you acting like an idiot who has no idea what she’s doing? He’s probably regretting it already.

You have prepared the props for filming in your room; your bed, which you insisted on buying with a bar headboard, is already set with the ropes, so all that remains is to tie the victim with them. You’ve done the same with the foot of the bed, as well as the POV camera that’s fitted just above his head. He’s wearing a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and you’ve put on a shirt that shows your nipples through and a pair of panties that are a bit too small so that your folds are marked.

What can you say: you consider yourself a meticulous creator.

“Okay, so I think everything’s ready. You can lie down now; I’ll take care of the rest.”

When Jungkook is finally lying on the bed, you straddle him to fasten the ties around his wrists and ankles.

It’s weird to feel his warm body beneath you after pining for him for so long; you can feel his thighs tensing and flexing under your ass, how he shifts on the mattress, looking down at your hands and how they skilfully tie him to the bed headboard. His eyes burn wherever they land, you fear you might be getting a bit of stage fright.

“How are you doing?” Jungkook murmurs a ‘good’, looking up at you. “Cool… Then we can get down to business.”

Holding your breath, you lean into him to turn on the camera and, as soon as the red light appears, you realise you’ve been holding it for too long and let out a deep sigh. Time to get into character. Don’t think about it, Y/N.

You look down at him; Jungkook stares back, waiting for you to get on with the script.

Faking a wicked smile, you bend over him and dive on his neck for a kiss, being as loud as possible, slurping and groaning. He shivers beneath you, and you feel yourself already getting turned on just by having him at your mercy like this. After all, this is supposed to be erotic.

Suddenly, Jungkook fixes your knee on his crotch and moves it a bit to the left, taking you by surprise.

“Are you awake, sweetheart?” you ask, pretending you aren’t surprised.

As you wait for a response, you bend down to leave a trail of pecks down his jaw and neck, peppering kisses on his shoulder now, as Jungkook stirs beneath you again.

“Uh… w-where am I?” he asks as he stares down at you with a pitiful frown. “Who are you?”

You let out a giggle. “I was hoping you’d recognise me, but I guess I need to be humbled… I’m the girl of your wet dreams, baby.”

“I-I don’t know what—”

You attack his lips this time, delving for a deep kiss. Jungkook eventually closes his eyes and gives in to your kiss, uttering a meek whimper against your lips and pulling at the ropes to no avail. When you move away, you sit on his crotch, happily surprised.

“Oh, what do we have here? Someone’s waking up, look.”

Before he can say anything, you pinch his tip over his trousers. He twitches again, leaking precum, as you can tell from the way a wet patch appears in the fabric.

“I’m sure it’s small, so tiny I wouldn’t even feel it,” you snicker, “but I’ll use it anyway, maybe as a plug for my butt.”

Jungkook whines, feeling himself getting even harder. “I-it’s not small—”

Honestly, when you dropped by the coffee shop and asked him to work with you on a video, he couldn’t believe it. It had always remained a fantasy, and he feared for a second that someone had ratted him out about his crush on you. ‘Someone’ as in ‘Kim Namjoon’, of course.

Jungkook has spent many hours thinking of different ways to ask you out on a date. Ever since he met you, he’s grown obsessed with you and your personality, charm, beauty, and confidence. When he started to notice you getting shy around him, a small flame of hope lit up inside of him, but why would you be into a guy like him? Yes, he isn’t bad looking, but surely, you’d be more into big, strong, sexual guys, wouldn’t you? Real men who had lots of experience in bed.

On the other hand, Jungkook becomes such a mess every time he’s around you; he drops things, he’s unable to form a coherent sentence, and you never seem to be too interested in talking to him for more than five seconds.

Now, is Jungkook in love with you? Before, he would have denied it, that this was just another crush. But now that he’s so close to you, that he can feel the sweat on your skin, that he’s one with you, he has to ask you out. Otherwise, he’ll never be happy again.

Especially now that the feeling of you straddling his lap and playing with his cock is ingrained in his memory.

“Let me go,” he barks, suddenly remembering that he has a script to follow. “I— I won’t tell anyone if you let me go now.”

You lean into him and stroke his cheek. “Why would I?”

Sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, you silence any possible reply from him and kiss him hard against the mattress. Your ass ruts against his cock mercilessly, almost by instinct, eager to feel his whines die in your mouth.

Your hands find their way beneath his shirt. With eager fingers, you brush his nipples and, hearing him whimper, keep pinching them as he stirs, fleeing your touch but at the same time seeking it. You chuckle and tease him for it, and Jungkook can only close his eyes with the genuine wish that he won’t come too soon, or at least before you get the footage you want.

You keep humping his clothed cock, now visibly hard and standing proudly against the fabric of his sweats. Between kisses, you tell him how well he’s doing.

“Let’s make a deal, shall we?” you suddenly say.

Jungkook struggles to peel his eyes open. “W-what deal?”

“If you manage not to cum before me, I’ll let you go,” you continue. “You will be totally free.”

“And— if I do?”

Shit, you forgot about this part. What happened if he came…? You can think of the paragraph and the page, but you really can’t remember the rest of the lines, shit. You totally suck at this—

“I’ll milk your cock dry until you beg me to stop – and only then will I think about it.”

Jungkook stares at you in shock, and for a second, you fear that your impromptu response has gone too far. But then you feel something hard rubbing against your pussy, and you realise that he is unconsciously humping you, twitching and getting bigger and harder.

“You’re fucking nuts,” he cries out.

But you only giggle in response, shoving your hips together as if you were actually riding him. You let out a loud moan, too exaggerated to be true. The constant pressure of your pussy against his crotch makes him arch his back, desperately trying to hold his own whines and grunts to save you the satisfaction of proving you right.

“Look at you! You poor thing,” you exclaim in laughter. “I’m gonna fuck your virgin cock until you pass out.”

Jungkook goes still.

“Oh, thought I didn’t know?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

“I—”

You bend down and bite on his neck only to soothe the sting with your tongue. “You thought I didn’t know you’ve never been touched before? You’re popular, but women terrify you, don’t they? You see them and only notice their hard nipples through their shirts and their tight pussies peeking from under their short skirts, and that makes you nervous; if they’re nice to you, you’re not interested. If they’re mean, you spend all day imagining them spanking you or sitting on your face… Don’t lie, you’re a sicko who wants a woman to spit in your mouth and fuck your cute little cock. Do you call them mommy in your fantasies? A mean mommy with a fat ass to hump your pathetic dick and huge tits to suck on.”

“S-shut up,” Jungkook cries out. “Shut up, shut up— you have no fucking idea, y-you don’t know shit—”

“I’d show you my tits and you’d come on the spot,” you laugh.

“S-stop lying!”

“Jesus, you’re gonna burst your pants from how hard you’ve got, sweetheart. And I’m nuts? At least I’m not getting hard just because a girl is making fun of me.”

You start bouncing on his crotch, laughing. The constant pressure of your ass against his cock makes him squirm, spilling out an amusing mixture of insults and plaids for mercy. His cheeks are warm with a blush of embarrassment and arousal.

“No wonder no one has ever touched this cute little cock!” you chirp, finally shoving your hand into his pants. “I bet you spend all day locked in your room, watching porn or hentai or whatever losers like you are into. Fucking into your own hand like a bitch in heat. Thank goodness you live alone, because you would live in constant fear of your mom finding your dirty comics or the huge amount of dry jizz all over your plushies and pillows.”

“I— I always clean up after myself,” he whimpers in the sweetest voice possible, and you wonder if he’s actually being honest.

Time to find out. “Yeah? You don’t fuck into your pillow thinking it’s your crush’s wet pussy and leave it full of your cum with the pathetic feeling that you’re filling her up?” you grunt, getting riled up. The thought of Jungkook wanting to do it to someone else makes your blood boil.

“Y-yes!” Jungkook finally cries out. “Shit, shit— I always fuck my pillow thinking it’s you!”

The woman was too stunned to speak.

“Fuck, it— it always leaks out, I’ve always got so much cum saved up for— for you, mommy. I imagine it’s your pussy I’m filling up, want to milk my cock into your cunt until you’re happy.”

The ache between your legs worsens, and you have to rub your thighs together to ease the pent-up arousal; you’re dripping, could simply sit on his pretty cock and ride him until he’s a crying mess – but this has got way out of hand, you need to get the video back on track.

And you shouldn’t think about why he immediately thought of you when you brought up his crush.

You lean on him and spit on his lips, making him yelp. “Yuck.”

“M-mommy, please—”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Raising your hips off him, you take off your panties; indeed, they are ruined and soaked with your juices. Their only use is to gag Jungkook, and there they go, straight into his mouth.

He has to close his eyes when the scent of your arousal reaches his nose.

It takes him a couple of seconds to process that you’re naked now, at least from the waist down. Only your breasts are covered behind the thin white fabric of your tank top. It’s too small, so the sides of your tits stick out, and the neckline is too wide and barely covers your nipples.

Now, his eyes wander down to your pussy; glistening and dripping wet, Jungkook notices the way you rub your thighs together from time to time.

Kneeling over him, you sit on his chest and lift up your shirt, trying not to care that you’re leaving a trail of your juices across his skin. You’re right on top of the camera, and it really looks like Jungkook’s point of view. So, you grab his head and push it between your tits.

“Slow, dummy babies don’t get to suck on mommy’s boobs, darling. Hurry up.”

His eyes locked with yours, Jungkook opens his mouth to suck on your left nipple as you cradle his head. The contact sends shivers down your spine. Still bound to the bed, he struggles to turn his head and reach closer, eager to flicker his tongue around your sensitive nub.

“That’s it, baby, so good,” you groan.

He shifts to your other breast, and you allow him, too hooked on the pleasure to question his intentions.

Jungkook flicks his tongue with eagerness, hunger, almost desperation. His hips buck into the air, and his restrained cock keeps leaking precum, a wet patch appearing on the fabric. He sucks on your nipple like his life depends on it, unhinging his jaw to reach what he can’t touch.

Shit.

You’ve gone off script enough as it is.

You push him away, and he whimpers. “Well done, sweetheart,” you groan, “but mommy has other plans for you.”

Taking off your shirt, you’re now fully naked on top of him. Jungkook’s eyes roam around your figure and drink it up the sight of your bare body on top of him like it is water and he’s dying of thirst.

It’s time for the good shots, so you turn around so that your dripping folds are right in front of the camara – and right on top of his face, but that’s just a little gift for you. You’re facing his crotch, and with eager hands, you pull down his pants and underwear at the same time, letting his big, red, leaking cock spring up against his stomach. It’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, and your mouth waters just at the thought.

Meanwhile, Jungkook has been struggling with the tempting sigh of your pussy right above his head. It tickles his tongue, makes his lips twitch; he can only think about ravishing your cunt like a madman.

It’s practically instinctive when his neck is stretched upwards. You said you were okay with oral. In fact, you enjoyed it. The script is just something to guide you as to the plot; the rest, it can go as it comes up. That torture you promised him wasn’t scripted either, but it’s made his cock hard as if he was in heat. And, if you don’t like it, you can use the safeword too.

Just a bit more while you keep playing with his cock in your hands.

His tongue is already out, like a dog. That’s pretty much what he feels like right now, desperate to fuck your pussy with his mouth.

Shit, you’re dripping.

“I wonder if you can get even harder,” he hears you ramble.

As you get comfortable on top of him, your hips are getting closer to his reach. Your ankles rest under his forearms, you didn’t notice he could lick you for at least a few seconds.

Jungkook doesn’t stop to think and delves his tongue into your pussy, proceeding quickly to suck and lap at your clit. Your juices soak his face, but that only makes his erection grow. Your clit reacts instantly, throbbing between his lips.

“What the— s-shit, Jungkook, what are you—” you manage to moan.

Your first instinct is to push your legs away, but Jungkook is pressing down with his forearms and, by the time you think of moving your hips away, you’re already melting with pleasure. His tongue is quick to lick your clit over and over, relentlessly, as you thrust back. Using his forearms again, he pulls you by your legs so that you’re practically sitting on his face, bent over him, grunting his name.

Saliva runs down his chin. Your taste on his tongue has shoved him into a thoughtless state, he’s only thinking about making you come. His tongue parts your lips and fucks into your entrance with wet, sloppy strokes.

Jungkook lets out a whimper. “Fuck, as good as I thought it’d be,” he cries out, his voice muffled by your folds. “Mummy got dripping just from playing with me, so fucking m-mean—”

You arch your back and thrust back against his tongue, feeling the tension in the pit of your stomach.

He’s got your ankles well locked, and you’re still torn between control and pleasure, so you simply squirm on top of him while Jungkook keeps ravishing your pussy now that you can’t close your legs – nor do you really want to.

But shit, he’s going to make you come if he keeps this up. And, if you do, the deal is off, and the video is over. You’d love to squirt all over his face and force him to drink it up, but you’ve got other plans for him and for you so, as much as you’re loving getting tongue-fucked by this bratty little shit, it’s time to stop him.

“My baby really wanted to lick mummy’s pussy, didn’t he?” you blurt out with a laugh, and his cock twitches, a drop of precum rolling down from his tip.

“W-what?”

“How was your first cunt, sweetheart?” you continue. “Better than your hand, huh? Better than the sad, pathetic hole you make in your stuffed animals to stick your dick in and think it’s me.”

A tear of embarrassment rolls down his cheek. “T-that’s not—”

“Let me return the favour.”

While Jungkook, in a desperate attempt to make you cum, keeps licking and sucking your pussy, you keep yourself decently composed and let a trickle of saliva drip onto his tip. Before he can say anything else, you’re engulfing his cock until your nose is pressed against his pubic bone.

“F-fuck!”

You try to fight a wicked smile with his cock around your lips.

Jungkook’s hips twitch, but that only makes the tip of his cock bump into your throat, ripping a sob from him.

You start bobbing your head up and down; he pulls at his restraints, his head turning to his sides as two thick tears of pleasure roll down his cheeks. Guess this probably is his first time being deep-throated, so better ruin it for everybody coming after.

Fortunately, his bratty tongue is too busy crying and moaning to pay any attention to your pussy, so you sit on his chest and get momentum.

His cock feels hot in your mouth, leaking precum. It’s salty as it mixes with your own saliva running down his shaft. Jungkook is sweating all over, his head spinning like he’s having a fever; after all, the wet heat of your mouth around his cock is too much to handle. It’s coated in your spit, sending waves of pleasure down his spine, making his toes curl, his throat sore from grunting and sobbing. You hollow your cheeks and swallow around him, the vibrations of your moans only worsening the pleasure pooling in his lower back.

“Fuck!” he cries out again. “Of fuck, p-please—!” Jungkook can’t even properly thrash with his feet as they’re tied to the bed as well. “So good, so fucking good!”

You pull the foreskin back to expose the head and dip your tongue into the slit, savouring the taste of his arousal. For a second, you wonder if he’s never really got proper head or if he’s just very sensitive, but you shove the thought to the back of your head and keep going.

“Got anything to say about that misbehaviour from earlier?” you ask, licking down to the base.

“Dunno—”

“Ah, yes, you do.” Your voice comes out soft, too soft. It sends chills down his back. “You grabbed mommy’s ass and ate her pussy without permission, remember?”

Leaning on his thighs, you manage to turn around to face him. You notice his red face and dilated pupils, and he notices your slick, swollen lips.

To your surprise, Jungkook smirks. “But mommy loved it, didn’t she? I almost made her cum—”

You shut him up by swallowing down his cock again, even if he is right; only a couple of minutes more and you would have come all over his face. But you haven’t, and that’s all that matters. Now you have to make him cum so that you can start torturing his spent cock until he’s crying for you to stop.

Jungkook may be used to keeping it down at his shared flat and know how to be quiet, but you can always tell when a guy is close, and you’re surprised at how much he’s been holding it. From how swollen and purplish his cock looks, how much he’s leaking, and the way it reacts, throbbing and twitching at your touch, he must have been on edge for a while.

“Are you a masochist, perhaps?” you ask, rather to yourself.

Your hands find his base again and start pumping him, both of them. The contact feels kind of dry, though, despite his arousal dripping through your fingers, so you bend down and spit on the head again.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, really,” you continue, jerking him off like it’s just one more chore. “A crazy chick ties you to the bed to fuck you and the first thing you do is get a hard-on. No wonder only your plushies are willing to let you hit it— though they can’t really say anything, can they?”

With a shaky gasp, Jungkook bites his lip and closes his eyes; he needs to stop either seeing or hearing you if he wants to hold on any longer, but your breasts are right in front of him, covered in a glistening layer of sweat, your erect nipples that he just had in his mouth, your pussy radiating heat and dripping down your inner thighs. If only you would sit on his cock and ride him until you cum and scream with pleasure, choke him, spit in his mouth, use him like he uses his poor childhood stuffed animals.

Then this torture would be over, he would climax inside you and stuff you with his cum, til it’s dripping. And the next torture would begin.

“Come on, the last test. If you pass it without cumming, I’ll let you go, okay, sweetheart?”

Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts; suddenly, you’re straddling his lap, the tip of his cock brushing against your folds. The brief pleasure, more like a feeling-induced fantasy turned into a touch, makes him shudder and take a deep breath.

“This” – you yank off his shirt, buttons popping out – “off.”

Raking your nails through his hair, you yank it and force him to look at you in silence. His chest heaves and falls as he stares into your eyes.

Your thumb strokes his bottom lip. “It’s a pity that such a pretty face belongs to a pervert like you.”

“I’m not a pervert!”

“Yadda, yadda,” you mock him, tilting up his chin to get access to his jaw and bite him. “Whatever, I have no interest in your pathetic excuses – if you weren’t a pervert, you wouldn’t be hard right now.”

“I-it’s a biological response!” Jungkook insists.

“Hm, yeah, sure. Then you won’t mind if I don’t fuck you, right—? What’s more, you’ll be glad.”

To add weight to your words – and torture him a little in the process – you start moving your hips up and down against his cock, rubbing him with your folds. He twitches between your inner thighs, and you keep circling and undulating your hips over his tip, every now and then pretending you’re going to finally sit on him. His head penetrates you for a second, and you fuck yourself on it, one, two, three thrusts until you decide to press your ass against it.

“Just imagine if I let you fuck my ass,” you laugh. “Just think about it, sweetheart.”

“It’d be s-so tight,” he blurts out, “around my cock! Shit, I wish I could— I wish I could eat your ass, and then your pussy, and then fuck you open with my cock—”

“Fuck—”

You find yourself grinding on his swollen tip, rubbing your clit against his sensitive skin, too turned on by his words; yeah, you’d like him to eat your ass as well. Jungkook is trying to muffle the whimpers coming through his lips, but the pressure is getting heavier.

Moving in a quick thrust, you sit down on his cock. He works you open as it disappears into your body, a moan leaving your lips. Your fingers dig into his shoulders for leverage, hips setting a pace as you bounce on his cock. It massages your inner walls, with sounds of smacking flesh, working thigh muscles as you melt at the shocking waves of pleasure.

“Ngh—” Jungkook lets out a whimper and pulls at the restraints. “Fuck! Oh, fuck—”

Your skin prickles, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone. It’s dripping, the ache between your thighs expanding while you chase your climax.

Jungkook pants, head bumping against the headboard, victim to the rolls and thrusts of your hips. Your tits are bouncing right in front of him, their round shape and hardened nipples so, so tempting, making his mouth water while his cock throbs and twitches between your walls. You clench around him, and he whines again. His nerves feel on fire, and the sight of your bare figure fucking yourself on his cock only worsens it.

Your hand slithers to pinch one of your nipples. Playing with it, arching your back, you let out a huff and roll your hips in undulating waves, cunt engulfing him over and over and soiling it with your juices.

You feel his tip bumping against your sweet spot when Jungkook suddenly cries; two thick tears roll down his cheeks, and you bend over to kiss them clean.

“Slow, s-slower, please, go—” he sobs, face red. “Shit! I’m— fucking hell, go slow! G-go slow!”

As he pulls at the restraints in pure desperation, his hips buck into you, jerking and trembling like he’s got no control over them. Jungkook is begging you to slow down, but the blazing way he’s fucking up into you, trying to reach your breasts and suck on your nipples again, wanting to get rid of the restraints so that he can grab your ass and pound into your dripping pussy only fuels him.

“Shut up, little bitch,” you grunt.

Before he can say anything else, you shove your nipple into his mouth and hover over him, your core aching at the wet pressure of his tongue around your hardened buds. You pull at his hair, and his eyes suddenly roll back.

He grows harder inside of you. “Oh fuck, oh, n-no, fuck, stop!” he cries out. “Shit, stop! Slow, slow down—!”

Only when you feel him going still on the mattress and the sweet feeling of hot cum filling you up do you understand he just came inside you.

You keep bouncing on his cock, and Jungkook’s seed eventually gets pumped out of your insides by his own cock. It leaks down your inner thighs and pools on his lower stomach, but you only lean onto him to bite on his neck while he sobs at the painful yet glorious feeling of your pussy milking every last drop of his yummy cum.

“Oh, baby,” you coo with amusement, scratching down his chest, “you just made this so much easier.”

Overstimulation kicks in when you resume bouncing on his spent cock, careful not to let him slide out of your cunt; Jungkook sobs and grunts as he writhes on the bed, pulling the restraints.

You grab his chin and spit into his mouth before you kiss him hard. Your teeth leave small bites on his lips and chin, peppering short kisses to swallow his sobs, embracing him to restrict his squirms. He’s crying so prettily into your lips, you want to eat him up.

“Please, p-please—! Hurts!”

Sucking the flesh of his neck, you let the red mark blossom. “A deal is a deal, sweetheart.”

Deal or no deal, you ride him chasing your climax, sweating and melting into him. Your clit rubs against his pubic bone, and the coiling tension in the pit of your stomach tightens. Jungkook writhes beneath you, and his toes curl in a poor attempt to let out a little of the pleasure that pushes him towards another orgasm. The sight of his cum dripping down your legs mesmerises him, your pussy engulfing his cock over and over again.

Fuck, you look so hot right now; he’s going to explode in a heart-shaped puddle of pleasure, he can’t stop the tears either. It’s torture, the best kind, how you’re touching him, stroking his skin, licking down his lips to his sweaty chest, playing with his hair. There’s almost a certain sense of affection in the ways of your hands.

“Please,” Jungkook cries out.

“Fuck,” you moan, closing your eyes. “Baby, you’re gonna make me come~“

Your words make his heart stop for a second. They fuel a fire in his abdomen and raise goosebumps all over his skin, and Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath as the pain starts to mix with the tortuous pleasure.

You keep bouncing on him, ass striking against his hips at a brutal pace. “God! Shit, shit, baby, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

“Please!” he begs.

The ache between your thighs makes your core tighten, your muscles burn, your sweat is boiling on your skin, dripping down between your breasts.

With one last powerful thrust, the tension snaps, and suddenly you’re bursting out in an explosive orgasm, squirting all over him. You scream out, squishing his cock with your dripping walls, moaning his name and burying your nails in his chest. The shockwaves grip your body, and you ride out your orgasm with slower rolls of your hips.

“Fuck, baby,” you let out in a weak breath, “you made me spill myself all over you.”

When you finally peel your eyes open, you notice Jungkook staring down at the pool of fluid on his lower stomach. His pupils are so dilated that they merge with his irises. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, and his hips are bucking into you subconsciously.

“M-mommy—”

You’re too exhausted to be careful not to drop on top of him and leave a feverish trail of kisses down his neck, holding his face and brushing your lips together, swirling your tongue around his.

“Mommy,” he calls again.

“Yeah…?”

“I’m—” Jungkook lets out a whimper when you shove your hand between his legs. “I’m c-close.”

“Again?” you ask with a hint of mockery in your voice.

He pouts and closes his lips in embarrassment, but the way his cock throbs and twitches as you circle the tip of your index finger on his cock feels too good to stifle his noises. You have such cute hands; he’d die just to see them covered in his cum.

You move down his body in a trail of kisses and nibbles, enjoying the smell of his skin, so warm and intense. The room smells of sex, and it turns you on so much that your mouth salivates.

“Let me take care of you.”

Scooting between his legs, you stroke up and down his Apollo’s belt as he arches his back into the touch, desperate to come. His cock pressed against his tummy, you grab it and spit on it right before dipping your tongue into the slit. Jungkook pants in surprise and squirms and, making eye contact, you part your lips around his cock and swallow around it.

Jungkook whines and tries his best to hold his hips still, but the feeling of being engulfed in your wet heat only engorges the tension in the pit of his stomach. Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, not yet, he chants in his head.

Sucking and bobbing your head on his cock, you enjoy how he responds to your touch; Jungkook is burning all over, writhing, twitching between your lips at the suction.

“Fuck,” he gasps, “y-your mouth—”

You don’t bother to reply and simply hum around his cock, and the vibrations send shivers of pleasure down his spine. His eyes stare at your lips, darkened and wet with saliva so, using hands and lips together, you start sucking his tip with sloppy strokes of your tongue and suction from your lips as your hands play with his balls. Jungkook lets out a breath moan, increasingly agitated and desperate.

Then you slide him out of your mouth, and he stares at you a bit confused – until he sees the way you just hover over him with your mouth wide open above his tip and gets it. Shyly, Jungkook bucks his hips into your wet heat, letting out a muffled moan.

“You— you can’t be for real—” he whines.

You tilt your head in silence, waiting for him to shove his cock into your mouth again.

He starts fucking your mouth with desperate thrusts, hitting the back of your throat. Tears make his vision blurry, and a wave of heat spreads under his skin. He’s half ashamed, half turned on just at the very thought of him having to fuck your face to cum while you stay there, hovering over him with your mouth open. The grip of your tongue around his cock is heavy and wet, you’re so mean to him, just letting him jerk his hips like a bitch in heat.

“I’m gonna— fuck!” Jungkook lets out a grunt and a desperate gasp, fighting the restraints and fleeing your mouth; but you grab his ass again and bury his cock into your mouth until your nose is pressed against his pubic bone, and you hollow your cheeks, fucking him between your lips. “C-coming! Slow, s-slow down, I’m— oh fuck, please!” he sobs.

His hips stutter, and suddenly he’s spilling himself into your mouth, dissolving into pleasure with a choked sob and your name on his lips. It’s bitter, but Jungkook’s contracted face, with two thick tears soaking down to the corners of his lips, and red cheeks makes it all worthwhile.

You help him ride out his climax with your hand wrapped around his cum-stained cock, but soon Jungkook is writhing beneath you and bursting out in tears of actual pain, and you let go of him.

Lying eye to eye, he watches you lean onto him and open up your mouth; a pool of cum rests on your tongue, and he doesn’t hesitate to open his mouth and lets you kiss it back into the source system, massaging your tongues together and rolling them over each other. A drop of white cum rolls down the corner of his mouth, but you’re both too busy making out naked on top of each other to care about it.

“We’re gonna have so much fun tonight, sweetheart,” you whisper.

After a pause, you get up and reach the camera to turn it off; suddenly Jungkook snaps out of something like a dream, and he remembers that you’re actually working. A feeling of shame and sadness washes over him, and he's so exhausted both mentally and physically that he feels the urge to cry.

“Okay, I turned it off.” You rush to undo the restraints on his wrists and massage the red marks with your thumbs to get the blood circulating again. “Does it hurt? I’ll get you something for the marks.”

In a thoughtful silence, he shakes his head.

“Good.”

You turn around and lean on his legs to undo the knots of his ankles as well, and Jungkook closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. His heart is still trying to burst his ribcage open and get out of his chest, and now that the frenzy of the video is over, a dread falls over him; what is he going to do about you now?

“Uh, Y/N?” he asks, unsure.

Smiling, you look up at him with the rope in your hands. “Yes?”

Courage.

“Can I… take you out to dinner some day?”

“Don’t laugh!” you exclaim, laughing. With a napkin, you wipe away the milkshake foam that stains your chin and the corners of your lips. “It’s not funny, you should have told me earlier. I’m sure everyone has noticed.”

The terrace where you are sitting is practically deserted except for a few tourists and a couple of birds circling over your food. With the sun shining brightly above you, you prop yourself up on your elbows as your tummy aches from laughing so hard, and Jungkook glances at the menu with a growing smile.

“I didn’t know you cared so much about the opinion of three people and seven birds,” he jokes.

“Hey, it’s eight birds, sweetheart. And the tourists are carrying a camera,” you insist, grabbing the menu from him with a playful frown, “what if I come out in the background looking like Father Christmas? I’d never get over it.”

“Then Father Christmas had a glow-up – when he was a kid, he’d just eat the biscuits and leave. Anyway, should we order to share or is it every man for himself?”

“We’d better share, I want to try it all,” you murmur as you take a sip from your drink.

Jungkook frowns. “You’ll get a tummy ache like last time.”

“You don’t have to remind me!” With a giggle, he takes the menu again. “It was so embarrassing, on our first date on top of that.”

He scoops to the other side of the table and steals a kiss from you, letting you cup his face and deepen the contact. “Okay, just order anything you want,” he says, sliding the menu back to you. “I’ll eat what you can’t fit in your tummy.”

You thank him with a short peck on the lips, and Jungkook returns to his seat.

“Oh, by the way,” you say casually, stirring your milkshake with your straw, “I have some good news and some bad news, which one do you want first?”

He frowns. “Well... The bad one, I guess?”

“The bad news is that I can’t use the video we made because you can hear us saying each other’s names. The good news is that it means we can make it again.”

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

“Sideshow” is copyright ²⁰²³ Lola Bangtan, all rights reserved.

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[flaringk]

The HOMESTUCK POV CAM for the UHC

A port of madman-bob's Homestuck POV Cam Chrome extension to the Unofficial Homestuck Collection. Follow each Character from Homestuck in chronological order from their point of view. Available now!

Download

[dejwrldarchived]

⤷‧₊˚ you + the eldest brother of the kids you babysit = a late night cam show

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — female reader, female anatomy described, female anatomy described, usage of y/n, cam work mentioned, cam boy!dabi, dabi has multiple piercings, fingering, squirting, consensual recording, dabi calls reader a slut and bitch once, mentions of black male, dacryphilia, told in third pov, mdni

a repost from my old account.

Being home from university for winter break was a huge burden for Dabi. Not only did he have to deal with being the black sheep within his family, but he had to set up a quite particular schedule to entertain his ten thousand subscribers on the popular camboy website. He figured to do cam shows when the house was down for bedtime or when he knew no one was home. However, with his family all crowding the traditional Japanese home for the holidays, he’s been abandoning the subscribers that tipped him wonderful just for stroking his cock on camera.

The thing is, Dabi didn’t really need the money. He came from pure old money. It just stroked his ego reading the comments people said about him. From complimenting his toned torso and pecks that were accessorized with a nipple piercing to adoring his Lorum piercing on his pretty cock. It made his ears grow so hot like an excited dog getting ready to play with its owners. He adored the ego stroke of what he did, but his gloomy eyes didn’t light up in excitement seeing his bank account grow. It was as if the money didn’t phase him. He didn’t spend much of the money on himself, usually buying his siblings’ stuff. Which usually was more of him throwing the item at them and mumbling how he remembered they mentioned to him that they needed or wanted it.

He even took it upon himself to give a gift to his younger siblings’ babysitter (Y/N). A beautiful young woman around his age who’s been the family babysitter for years now. Dabi never paid attention to the girl. Giving her a sly wave before slamming his home door to go hang out with his friends. However, it all changed when she went on the annual family trip with them one hot summer.

Perhaps, Dabi should have concluded that something was going to happen when the two were stuck sharing a hotel room due to a hotel mistake. A night that was filled with stealing miniature vodka bottles from the hotel bar when the bartender was occupied led to a breathless night of Dabi taking the pretty babysitter’s virginity. parted ways due to college, Dabi expected the girl to become clingy. Who wouldn’t become clingy to the guy who took their virginity? But she didn’t.

However, Dabi did notice something. He noticed that her skirts got shorter. Her tops got tighter. She always would let her fingertips graze against his hand when they were in the kitchen together. Her eyes even lit up with so much lust when she saw he was home. She was driving him so crazy because he couldn’t read her.

That was until he was in the kitchen munching on the dinner his mother cooked for the family before she and his father went on a date, (Y/N) was sliding her phone across the counter looking at him with such an intense stare. Dabi’s cold glare traveled down to the phone screen and he nearly choked on the rice ball that was in his mouth.

“You should really not use your most common fuckin’ nickname for your account,” (Y/N) chuckle as she looked at him.

Dabi swallowed the food he was chewing and quickly exited the website that once had his profile right on it. He even saw that she had an account on the website, assuming that she was only there to view the content and not do what he does.

“At first, I didn’t believe it. It’s just a coincidence,” (Y/N) explained. “But that piercing gave it all away,” She soon added as her alluring eyes traveled down to his crotch.

“Okay, I stroke my dick for fuckin’ strangers, now what?” Dabi asked as he stepped closer to her. “Going to snitch off to my parents?” His head tilted slightly, challenging the babysitter in front of him.

“Yes.” (Y/N) bluntly admitted.

Dabi’s fist clenched tightly, “Seriously (Y/N)? Don’t be such a bitch.” He uttered.

“Maybe I am one. Your father will be so upset hearing how his son gets an ego stroke by stroking his dick for strangers on the internet,” (Y/N) says as her hands went up to toy with the necklace around Dabi’s neck.

“Well, what do you want for you to keep your mouth shut?” Dabi asked. “Money? Shoes? Another necklace?” He motioned to the diamond pendant necklace around her neck. A gift he gave her for being such a good babysitter for his siblings.

Once that question left Dabi’s lips, he watched as her lips curled into a smirk. Her fingers dragged down his chest in a slow manner as she batted her lashes at him. She stopped at the string of his grey Nike sweats, “I want to be featured on your show.” She says.

“No,” Dabi says. “You’re not being in my show, I never do collabs. I won’t start now because of a brat trying to blackmail me.” He went back to eating, leaving her pouting at him.

“You’re really okay with your parents seeing this? Especially your dad,” She asked.

Dabi throws his hands up in the air in a careless manner. His shoulders shrugging before he’s speaking once again, “Guess he’ll see what he gave me huh?” He chuckled as he placed his plate in the sink and walked by (Y/N).

Her mouth gaped open at his comment before she chased after him like a lost puppy. “Toya, it would bring you so much more money though.” She whines as she follows him up the stairs.

“Why do you want to be on my show anyway?” He asked. “Wouldn’t want to tarnish your innocent image right?”

“Your shows are always filmed neck down, not like anyone would see my face,” (Y/N) blurted out.

As the dark-haired male caught on to what she said, he turned around to face her. His back pressed against his room door eyeing her up and down. He took in the way her plaid skater skirt moved as she switched her weight from one leg to another and the way he could tell she was wearing a push-up bra to show off her perfectly sized breasts. His teeth grazed at his lower lip as he was mentally weighing out the pros and cons of it. For her to notice that he always streamed from the neck down, she must have been a daily viewer.

“Fine. But if you utter any of this to my parents…” His voice trailed off. “I’ll tell them about when Shoto had to go to the emergency room because your irresponsible ass gave him something he’s allergic to.”

“How’d you know that?” She asked, her arms crossed over her chest pushing her chest forward.

Dabi’s eyes traveled down to look at her chest before he gave her a smirk. “I have my ways, now are you ready or not?”

“What? You want to do it now?” (Y/N) questioned.

“I was planning on streaming now that everyone is asleep and I have about an hour before my parents return,” He said before he twisted the doorknob to his door and pushed it open. His head motioned for her to come in. (Y/N) would give him a cheeky smile before skipping into his room like a child going into a toy store. Not knowing that Dabi was about to practically ruin her pretty little cunt for his subscribers.

He didn’t really let anyone in his room, it was his space. He was very protective of his space. The blue neon lights hardly helped with lighting in the room, which Dabi didn’t mind. It added a unique atmosphere and view to the way he stroked his cock for thousands of people online. The walls of his room were decorated with covers of vintage Rolling Stone and Playboy Bunny magazines. In the corner of his room, he had a record player with a neat pile of vinyl records. (Y/N) was expecting anything out from the camera view on his desk that had his multiple computer monitors would be messy, but he took her by shock. She sat on his bed staring around his room while Dabi sat at his desk going to the website.

“I want to finger you,” Dabi bluntly admitted, his eyes never leaving his computer monitor. “I think us having full-blown sex will be too much for my subscribers considering I only do solo content,” He soon explained.

“Don’t you think that’ll be pretty difficult?” (Y/N) questioned. “Your viewers won’t even be able to see it fully,” she huffs crossing her arms over her chest.

Dabi didn’t even have to turn to look at her to know that she was a pouting mess behind him. He logged into his account announcing that he’ll be starting a stream in about three minutes. His ears growing hot seeing the number of people liking his status update despite him just posting it. “Just take off your panties and come sit on my lap.” He said as he pushed himself a little from under his desk.

(Y/N) eyebrows raised at his comment before she stood up. Her hands up her plaid skater skirt she wore to tug down the lace panties she wore. She throws them over her shoulder before going over to Dabi’s lap, comfortably sitting down as if she sat on his lap multiple times before. Dabi’s fingertips traced alongside her thighs as he sat in the large gaming chair. Such a small intimate moment caused a chill to travel down (Y/N)’s spine.

“This still doesn’t solve our problem that they won’t be able to see you fingering me,” (Y/N) argued.

“You never shut up, do you?” Dabi asked, her remarks were causing the boy to grow annoyed.

“Only if you stuff my mouth with something,” She snapped back giving him a smirk.

Dabi chuckles at her comment, leaning over to start the stream. It was a one-minute count down until the stream would be broadcast to the world, “Lay your back to my chest, pull your knees up and place your legs on the armrest of the chair.” He urged. “Or just place your feet on my knees and keep your legs open for the world can see,” Dabi says. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

(Y/N) glanced at the thirty-second mark on the screen before she does what she was told. Her cunt was now exposed for his subscribers to see, her gold anklet reflected at her on the screen. Looking at herself in such a provocative way turned her on. Despite you could only see from the neck down, it was a wonderful view to both her and Dabi. Her eyes filled with lust and her pussy throbbed to be touched. She could feel Dabi’s breath tickle at her earlobe and seeing his devious smirk caused her to swallow the harsh lump that formed in the middle of her throat.

“Look how good you look,” Dabi whispered in her ear. “You’re probably going to steal the show from me, doll,” He adds before a little tick noise could be heard as the stream was counting down from ten. “Make sure you don’t moan my real name like you did last time I had you like this during that family trip,” His fingers inched slowly and slow in between her plump thighs.

The show was now live for all his subscribers to see. Dabi was about to finger fuck (Y/N) for his subscribers and she couldn’t wait for that to happen. The pretty babysitter felt the harsh slap at her cunt when the countdown had finally hit zero. The tingle her cunt felt at the sudden slap caused her to be soaked. Dabi’s fingers swiped at her puffy lips collecting her wetness and she could feel his teeth nibbling at the bridge of her ear. “I slapped that cunt of yours and you grew so fuckin’ wet. You like it when I do that?”

“Yes,” Her words stumble out in an intoxicating way. “Please touch me some more,”

The pad of Dabi’s index and middle finger rubbed at her sensitive bud in a circular motion. The tipping notification was blowing up on his profile, but he ignored it. He wanted to see her fucked out just by his fingers. “Like this, doll?” Dabi questioned.

“Or like this?” His two fingers entered her sopping entrance without a warning.

(Y/N)’s mouth gasped open at the sudden action. Her hands grabbed at Dabi’s wrist. “Like that,” She cooed. Her eyes fluttered closed as if she was put into a trance.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet all for me, may have to fuck you until you’re seeing stars after this,” Dabi commented as he begin to move his two fingers inside of her. Her wetness pooled into his lap staining the grey sweatpants he wore.

The audience was loving every second of what was going on as the comments were moving so quickly that Dabi couldn’t even read them. His mind was making sure that (Y/N) felt the wrath of her silly con of trying to blackmail him. His fingers thrust inside her at a pace just like she liked him. A pace she was familiar with when the two shared a moment together during the Todoroki family trip.

“Fuck—” (Y/N) stuttered out as her back pressed against Dabi’s toned chest. Her head fell back as her eyes lolled in the back of her head. The pleasurable feeling of Dabi’s slender digits stuffing her pretty cunt caused her to quiver. Her eyes watered as if she was enduring so much pain, but just she was just enduring the intoxicating pleasure of Dabi fingering her.

“Look at them pretty lil tears.” Dabi cooed in her ear as his finger tugged out of her wet pussy. His fingers were coated with her slick as he rubbed at her clit once again. “I just fingered you and you’re already cryin’ out like a desperate lil slut.”

“Screw you.” (Y/N) spat at him as she was panting, her hips bucked upon his wet fingers for more friction upon her throbbing cunt.

“You’re telling me this as you’re bucking against my hand like a poor little wolf in heat.” Dabi slapped at her cunt once again before his fingers disappeared into her pussy again.

The only sound that bounced off Dabi’s room walls were the moans that tumbled off (Y/N)’s lips and the pornographic sound of Dabi’s fingers aggressively thrusting inside her cunt. At this point, the young babysitter soaked Dabi’s lap as she could feel her orgasm pooling at the pit of her stomach. Her back arching slightly off his lap just for his hand that wasn’t buried in between her thighs to push her back from not leaning forward to expose her face to his viewers.

“If you’re going to cum on my fingers go ahead,” Dabi urged as his fingers still were inside her. “I want to feel your pussy pulse around my fingers anyway,” He adds.

Dabi’s inebriating words only was responded with a string of moans. His free hand reached over to rub at her clit. The beautiful sight of (Y/N) on his monitor had Dabi rock hard under his sweatpants that were currently soaked. (Y/N) had reached to slowly Dabi’s hand but he moved it out the way as if she was being disobedient.

“Just let it all doll, I know you want to,” Dabi assured as his thumb flickered at the sensitive bud once again.

It was as if he had her in a trance because once those words fell off his tongue, (Y/N) let it all out. Her walls fluttered around his fingers as if it was his own thick cock. But that didn’t stop Dabi. His fingers still thrust inside her tight cunt, lunging through the overpowering orgasm she was currently enduring.

“Dabi, that’s too much” (Y/N) cried out as her tears decorated her lashline, causing the once-black mascara she wore to smudge and stain her face.

“Shhhh…I said let it all out, didn’t I?” Dabi questioned as his lips kissed at the side of her temple sweetly. His fingers still pounced forward until the gush of liquid escaped from her cunt. Dabi could feel it staining his pants, his wooden floors right below him, and even his desk.

The sight of seeing the way (Y/N)’s toes curled as his fingers removed themselves before he’s back massaging her clit. She was a wet quivering mess in his lap as the tipping notification on his profile was going off like crazy.

“Don’t ever think about blackmailing again, okay?” Dabi whispered into her ear before he eventually ended his stream.

(Y/N) couldn’t feel the lower half of her body, her brain felt like a frozen Windows tab on a computer, and she felt so exhausted. As she sat on Dabi’s lap, she could feel the same fingers that once were inside her tracing alongside her thighs that still were shaking just a bit.

“You need to get up and go shower before my parents come back” Dabi interjected her thoughts.

“Yeah, you’re right.” was the only words that could come out of (Y/N)’s mouth as she climbed off his lap. Her face felt so hot when she saw the wet spot on Dabi’s pants.

“It’s just a pair of sweatpants,” He responded as he began to clean the mess (Y/N) made.

When the stream ended, Dabi and (Y/N) were in the living room watching television. Sitting in silence trying to gather up all the thoughts of the intimate moment the two shared. He heard her phone ring, expecting it was his parents notifying her that they were a couple of minutes away from the house and it was okay to leave now if she’d like. But instead, he watched as her teeth bit down on her lower lip.

“Connor, you left me on read for three days and now you want to respond because I got finger fucked on camera! Fuck you!”

At that moment Dabi realized that (Y/N) didn’t care to blackmail him and use him being a cam boy against him. She used it for her own gain. To make her boyfriend jealous.

“How’d he know it was you?” Dabi questioned as his eyes tore from the television to look at her.

(Y/N) threw her feet in Dabi’s lap, lifting her left leg shaking her leg slightly so the gold anklet that had a ‘C’ pendant would be in his view. “This. He gave it to me last Monday for our four-month anniversary, just for him to cheat two days after that. I sent him the link to your profile before I even approached you about the whole blackmailing thing.” She said with confidence in her voice.

“You’re fuckin’ insane.” He added.

“I know.” (Y/N) says as she smiled at the dark-haired male.

Silence once again overcame the duo as they went back to watching tv, but Dabi broke the silence with a quickness.

“Do you want to do another stream together?”

[zegrasdrysdale]

Jamie request! this is kinda lengthy but Jamie thinks something is happening between his girlfriend and Z bc a Trevor keeps popping up in her phone but it’s an ex that Jamie has heard about who’s blackmailing her. She doesn’t wanna tell Jamie bc she’s very independent but also doesn’t wanna get anyone else involved. This causes tension between her and Jamie so Jamie texts Z trying to confront him before realizing it’s the ex and his mind goes to cheating but she finally explains the situation to him and maybe a little spice? and fluff at the end

[ guess who ] j. drysdale

pairing : Jamie Drysdale x fem!reader

summary : after seeing someone named ‘Trevor’ pop up on his girlfriend’s phone, Jamie thinks she’s cheating on him with his best friend, but then she comes clean to him and Jamie finds out that not everything is what it seems

warning(s) : nsfw ! implied sex, some sexual content, making out, angsty (very angsty), mentions of cheating and abuse, blackmail, mentions of injury, POV changes, one use of Y/N

author’s note : anon i am so sorry this took so long to finish. hope you enjoy <33

༺═──────────────═༻

She and Jamie are both left panting with a layer of sweat covering their bodies as they lay beside one another. They're completely spent and she's not sure if she can feel her legs at the moment. She pushes her hair away from her face before she looks at Jamie.

"You are incredible, pretty girl," Jamie pants with a smile on his face. "God, if you could ride me everyday, I could die a happy man."

"Jamie, I don't think you understand how tiring that is," she laughs as she rolls over and presses soft kisses to his already swollen lips. "The only reason I keep riding you is because you're hurt and I don't want you to exert or hurt yourself again."

He deeply kisses her back, wanting to start another round. She hums and shakes her head. Jamie pulls back with a groan. "Fine," he sighs. "I'll let you go pee and clean yourself up. I want my mouth on you as soon as you get back though."

With a laugh, she rolls out of bed. She pulls on one of Jamie's shirts before slipping into the bathroom to relieve herself so she doesn't end up catching a UTI. She fixes her ponytail knowing that it's going to get ruined again and checks her chest for marks, which are new and bruising already.

After she's done, she makes her way back into the bedroom. "You know," she says as she walks into the room. "You need to let up on the marking before it looks like I got bit by a vampire or something." Her playful tone ends when she sees Jamie scrolling on her phone. "Baby?"

Jamie looks up at her. "Why is Trevor sending you pictures?" he asks.

"What pictures?" she questions in reply.

He turns her phone around so she can see what he's talking about. The pictures in question are pictures of her, pictures of Trevor -- but it isn't Zegras who is sending those pictures. Not that anyone would know who it is in those pictures because they're all faceless.

Her ex-boyfriend, also named Trevor, is mad that she's with someone infinitely better than he is, and now he's trying to manipulate and blackmail her back into a relationship with him. Jamie doesn't know about him, which is why he thinks it's Z sending her naked pictures of them.

"Jamie, baby-" she starts to say before she's interrupted.

"Don't 'Jamie baby' me right now," Jamie snaps. "I can't believe you'd do this to me. To us. Trevor is my best friend. You could've picked literally anyone else but you chose my best friend to cheat on me with."

She immediately begins to shake her head. "Jamie, it's not what you think," she panics as he gets out of bed and gets dressed. "Please. I need to tell you something and-"

"Tell me when you end things with my best friend because I really don't want to hear your excuses right now," he tells her as he dresses. "I'm going to Cam's. Don't talk to me until you're ready to tell me why you cheated on me with Trevor."

Not knowing what else to do, she watches Jamie storm out the door. The front door slams shut and she flinches like the door hit her.

This is what she gets for not telling Jamie about her ex sooner.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[ Jamie's POV ]

He has half a mind to drive up to Bedford to have a word or two with Z. How could her girlfriend sleep with Trevor knowing he's best friends with Jamie? He can't believe that the two most important people in his life betrayed him like this.

It's nearly midnight when Jamie knocks on Yorkie's apartment door. A second or two later, the door swings open. A surprise Cam asks, "What are you doing here? It's midnight, Jimmy."

"I, um," Jamie hesitates, not knowing if he wants to tell anyone what is going on. "I just needed to get out of the apartment. We had a fight, I guess you can say."

Cam moves aside to let Jamie into the apartment. He pushes past and sits on the couch in the living room. Cam joins him a second later.

All he can see is the pictures on his girlfriend's phone. Pictures of her. Pictures of Trevor. He shudders at the memory and resists every urge to throw up on the carpeted floor.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Cam asks. "The fight, I mean. It was bad enough that you had to leave."

Jamie pushes his hair out of his face and sits back. "She was in the bathroom," he begins. "Then her phone began buzzing and buzzing so I looked at it to see who was texting her so late at night. I opened her phone to Trevor sending pictures to her of the two of them. In bed together."

"Holy shit," Cam breathes out. "No way. Zegras hooked up with your girl?"

"I don't know when and I don't know if they are still hooking up but yeah, apparently," he says. He rubs his face and groans into his hands. "I can't believe the two of them would hook up behind my back. Like, I get that I'm not the easiest person to be with considering I've needed near constant taking care of over the past year and a half but talk to me instead of hooking up with my best friend."

"That's not your fault, Jamie."

"Apparently it is because why else would she go out and fuck Trevor behind my back?" he questions.

He pulls out his phone and pulls his his messages with Z. "What are you doing?" Cam asks.

"Texting Z because he needs to know that I know."

to: zzzegras - 12:02 am what the fuck dude ? my girlfriend ?

from: zzzegras - 12:03 am ????????

to: zzzegras - 12:06 am i saw the pictures you sent her. i'm not stupid. why her ? don't you have your own girlfriend ? why mine ?

from: zzzegras - 12:08 am i have know idea what you're talking abt jamie. what pictures did i send her ? aside from gifts for you for when you get better

to: zzzegras - 12:09 am what ??

A picture comes through seconds later of a screenshot. It's an exchange between his girlfriend and Trevor from the day before. There are pictures of buildings and tickets in the screenshot with a message from Trevor saying "he'd love that".

The final text in the chain is from (Y/N). It's from fifteen minutes ago and it says: "you were right. i should've told him abt my ex bc he just walked out the door thinking you sent me naked pictures when it was him. god, why can't trev just leave. me. alone ! he's going to ruin everything between me and jamie when i don't want jamie to worry abt this rn".

from: zzzegras - 12:12 am it wasn't me dude. you need to talk to her abt it. there's more going on that you should know, and it concerns her and she should be the one to tell you

Confused, Jamie looks up from his phone. "I don't think it was Z that sent her those pictures," he tells Cam. "I think she's in some trouble though."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[ reader's POV ]

She sits on the mattress with her knees brought up against her chest while she stares at her phone. More texts from Trevor come through while she wants for something from Jamie so she can explain what's going on and that she isn't cheating on him with Z.

That's the last thing she ever wants Jamie to think because she loves Jamie and everything that comes with him. His baggage, his injuries, his laugh, his smile. She won't care when he retires from the NHL. She loves all of Jamie, hockey player or not.

The door opens while she's deep in thought and the sound pulls her out of her head. Jamie stands in the doorway. She pouts and tears begin to prick her eyes at the sight of Jamie in the doorway.

"Tell me who Trevor is," Jamie says. "Why is he sending you naked pictures of the two of you in bed?"

"He's my ex," she admits with a shaky voice. "He was manipulative and abusive. When I found the courage to leave, he told me that I'd never find anyone better than him. I did, and now he's mad about it."

Jamie's face falls at her confession. "I didn't know any of that," he quietly says. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want him to have anything against you because you have a career to lose," she cries. "I didn't have anything to lose. If those pictures of me come out then oh well, they'll probably get posted to some porn sites, but if he was able to get something of you and those leaked then I'd be devastated. I was scared that he'd ruin your entire career, our lives together."

He walks toward her at the same time her phone buzzes. She groans and hides her face. The bed moves as Jamie sits on the mattress. She looks up at him and watches him grab her phone. He scrolls for a second and says, "I could've helped you. Seriously. You didn't have to go through his alone."

She wipes away her own tears. "I did," she tells him. "Well, technically, I had Z because I texted him once asking him why most guys named Trevor were assholes and had to tell him but that was an accident. I didn't think he'd ask questions. I should've told you but I didn't want you involved."

The phone buzzes again. She sighs. Jamie taps a few more times before he holds the device up to his ear. Her eyes widen when she hears her ex's voice on the phone. Jamie winks at her before he says, "I don't know who you are but you have the wrong number. I suggest you stop sending those pictures though. They could do a lot of damage in the wrong hands."

Then he hangs up the phone. He smiles at her. "I don't- you aren't mad?" she asks.

"Oh, I am," Jamie replies. "It'll take a little bit for me to get over that you told Z instead of me but I won't let anyone ruin you or our lives together. No matter how mad I am. Not to mention, I love you."

She frowns and crawls up to Jamie. "I'm sorry," she says as she presses kisses to his shoulder. "I really am sorry. I should've told you but I was scared."

Her lips trail from his shoulder to his neck. Jamie looks over at her. "You can kiss me all you want," he tells her. "I'm still mad at you."

"We'll see how long that lasts."

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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[hearts4chriss]

Tape that shit.

Boyfriend Chris x only fans girlfriend

prompt: you ask Chris if he wants to film some content w u and he obviously says yes

Part 6

warnings: sex tape ??, creampie,pet names ( baby, good boy, slut, ma, mama ), toys, 69, reverse cowgirl, overstimulation, sub!Chris, fat assed reader

I’m a cam girl, I do only fans.

I make my money

I met Chris beforehand tho and I took a break once we got together, I did tell him and boy was excited every time he’d get a “ding!” From my onlyfans he’d immediately go watch them and send me a video of him jerking off to my picture or video.

That’s when I got an idea

Why don’t I ask Chris, my man, to film some with me?

I’m sure he’d say yes.

Just the thought of him whimpering for me, and me moaning his name as we’re in 69, my ass grinding on his pretty as I suck his dick and he whimpers and eats my pussy. I’d place a vibrator on his tip teasing him as well, making him cum twice, already seeing him fucked out but I wouldn’t be done

reverse cowgirl, I know we’ve never tried this position surprisingly because I’m a freakk but first time for everything. Just picturing his face when my ass is riding his fat cock in his face he’d absolutely fucking loose his mind.

I can’t wait to see his pretty little face as I fuck him

so I quickly got off my bed and did my edges throwing on some lashes and some lip gloss before slipping on my matching pink lace panties and bra, the thong hugged my curves perfectly and my thigh tattoo shown off right in front of him and the small tattoo on my ass “Chris”

I quickly pull out my phone and send Chris a pic

my man💋💋

damn baby you look good as fuck what’s the occasion?

my girl🤍

wanna film some content with me :)

Chris’s pov

the second she sent that I immediately felt my dick press against my boxers and I groan. I’ve been waiting for her to ask me this. How could I say no?

my man💋💋

shittt I’m omw rn do not move.

my girl🤍

good boy :)

Good boy?? She’s only called me that once..she’s never been dominant towards me but maybe today’s the day and fuck I can’t wait.

***knock knock***

I hear him knock and finish setting up the cameras and lights in my bedroom making sure you could capture all angles. The cameras would start recording any moment now.

I walk downstairs making sure I look good and I then open the door.

“hey baby”. I say leaning on the doorway smirking a bit seeing Chris’s jaw drop the moment he saw me.

“let’s go- upstairs now- “he says trying to get me upstairs but I quickly stop him and he raises an eyebrow.

“oh ur gonna be submissive today baby, get ur ass on my bed.”I say pointing upstairs

“oh yes ma’am.” He says his lips curving into a small smirk and he goes upstairs seeing my set up.

“Ba- “I stop him by pushing him on my bed crawling over to him straddling my ass on his lap and he groans.

“Someone’s needy already, haven’t even touched you yet.” I chuckle my hands pressing onto his clothed dick and he clenched his fist in frustration.

“F-fuckk- “Chris moans begging for my attention and hands on him.

“hm I’m curious how long have you been waiting for me?” I mock him beginning to pull down his sweatpants seeing his boxers with a wet patch and Chris’s cheeks flush red.

“it’s okay baby just be a good boy and I’ll take care of you I promise”. I say softly and he nods eagerly

“P-please I’ll be so good mama”- he whines and whimpers desperate now.

I pull his boxers down and grip the base of his lengthy cock seeing pre cum oozing from the red tip.

“Such a pretty cock baby”. I kiss the tip and he whimpers and I smile taking of my thong straddling his chest.

“69?” Chris asks looking up at me before peering to all the cameras and gulping and I smirk

I nodded placing my pussy in his face and my hand grips the base of dick.

“Ready mama?” The desperate boy says holding my ass spreading it open to have more access for him.

“Yes baby whenever you are.” I say turning on the vibrator pressing it on the tip and he whimpers loudly.

“Mmph fuck-“ he groans before diving his tongue into my wetness making me moan out his name in curses as he sucks on my pussy harshly.

“O-oh fuck Chris! S-shit-“ i let my jaw drop steadily running the vibrator on the throbbing veins of his cock his hand grip my ass tightly with desperation licking between my folds.

Chris pulls my thighs closer to his head nuzzling his nose into my cunt dripping for him.

His cock twitched in my hand with anticipation needing to cum desperately as I gave his tip a few kisses making him squirm.

I pressed the vibrator more on his tip and I saw his toes curl and I smirked slapping Chris’s dick on my tongue and he moaned into my pussy as I moaned out his name

“Fuck-yes baby so good-“ I cried out his name while slapping his dick on my tongue with the vibrator running along his veins and he twitched in my hand

“s-shit ma I’m gonna cum!” Chris whimpers his hot breath enough to make me squirt all over his face as I stroked him faster allowing his warm load to shoot on my hand coating it.

“Fuck-“ he breathed out as I moved from his face and saw how wet he was, his face glistening in the light of my room with my cum but I wasn’t finished.

I turned off the vibrator throwing it to the side leaving a deep kiss on his lips and he moaned into it trying to pull me back.

“Baby-“!he whined and I chuckled.

“wanna try something new?” I asked giving him those eyes seeing his cock perk up along with his eyes.

“Sure Mama what is it.” Chris asked biting his lip slightly.

“wanna try reverse cowgirl?” I said running my fingers along his thigh winking at my camera.

“Oh fuck- yes I would-“ Chris mutters his dick twitched at the though of this position.

I smirk and move myself to face my ass towards him and I position myself on his cock sliding down easily feeling him stretch out my walls.

“F-fuckk chris- ur so big-“ I moan beginning to bounce a bit slowly at first his dick slickly sliding in and out of me easily.

“O-oh shit baby- ur s-so tight-“ Chris groans sitting back his hand caressing my hip watching me ride him.

fuck- I can't believe the internet is about to see how Good Chris and I fuck was all that ran through my mind. His cock sliding in and out of my slick walks and his whimpers from being overstimulated was enough to make nearly cum but fuck- it was hot.

I started twerking on his dick while I was riding him in Reverse cowgirl and hearing him moan "shit" from behind I knew was enjoying that.

“Fuck- ur so hot mama-“ he whimpers grabbing my ass and leaving a smack on my right making me whimper as he did the same feeling my ass move on his thighs watching it twerk right in front of him, Chris was a major ass guy so I knew this would send him over the edge.

“Yeah? you like when I twerk on ur cock baby?” I bite my lip turning around chris looked so fucked out seeing me like this on him.

“oh fuck- yes-fuck yes- “the boy moans desperately slapping my ass and I chuckle beginning to bounce on him again at a much faster pace, curses and moans leaving both of our mouths.

I rolled my hips a bit as he groaned deeply, his dick meeting my pelvis hearing him squirm was so damn hot.

“SHIT- oh fuckk- “!he whimpers gripping my ass tightly for sure leaving a few marks.

I felt Chris's cock twitch inside my walls as they closed in on him and he squirms rocking my ass harder begging for a release.

“fuck- be a good boy and cum for me- deep inside me baby.” I breath out heavily and chris moans loudly.

“F-fuck ma i'll be a good boy- Fuck! I promise.” Chris whines begging for a orgasm practically.

I bounced on him harder my ass slapping on his thighs.

“FUCK-“ Chris yells as he released his cum deep inside me.

“Hold on baby I gotta cum to.” I smirk before flipping myself back to face him and I gripped his shoulders steadying my body so I could ride him.

“Mmph- mama- s-so good-“ his whimpers fill my ears as my stomach feels hot and I start rubbing my swollen clit chasing my orgasm.

Chris's hands grip my ass helping bounce me on his dick and I cry out his name.

“S-shit baby- fuck im gonna cum!” I throw my head back his hand replaced mine and allowing me to squirt over his cock and lower stomach.

“Fuck baby-“ he groans as I slide off of him and stop my camera and turn off my lights.

“Shit- I need to film with you more often ma- fuck ur so good- “He lies back on the pillows and i smile.

“Oh I already have plans for what to do you next”. I smirk and he raises an eyebrow

“Whats that baby?” He chuckles sitting up and I lean over to his lips

"bondage".

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[feyhunter78]

Can you please do part two of Pink Pastels? Thank you 🩷

I definitely can!!! I'm honestly such a sucker for dual povs I swear it's like my calling card, so this chapter is in Miguel's pov! Fun fact: the bf in this story is based off my best friend's college boyfriend who showed up high out of his mind to her place of work SEVERAL times (I obvi changed his name though bc I'm a nice person)

Pt 3

Pink Pastels Pt 2

Miguel searches through every database, has Lyla run your face, your name, every detail he can find about you, and yet you only seem to appear here, in this universe where he swoops in right as your universe’s Miguel dies.

No one notices the switch. Not even his coworkers at Alchemax. In fact, they seem to welcome his “new attitude,” and he finds himself with a raise within the first two months.

This universe is quiet, the other him died from a fluke, embarrassingly enough. But it was so random, so unpredictable, that no one questioned “his” survival. So, life goes on as it had before, how he had watched it go on before.

The old woman who lives next door and watches Gabi when he’s “called into work late,” smiles at him, praises him for working so hard for his daughter. Gabi wakes up in the morning to him, her father, like always, eats breakfast, strawberries, blueberries, and honey on her toast, scrambled eggs with cheese, tomatoes, peppers, and a glass of milk. Then he drops her off at school on his way to work.

The monitors beep at him, and he turns back towards them. Finally, it’s found you in his universe, the victim of a plane crash, years before Gabi would even be born. It’s a painless death. You were among those killed on impact. Gone in a moment, but as he watches you here, in this new universe where his daughter is happy and thriving, he realizes just how desperately he wished he would have found you before you ever set foot in that airport.

“She’s pretty.” Lyla says, leaning forward, a teasing smile on her face. “Looks like someone’s got the hots for teacher?”

“No.” He deadpans, though he can’t tear his eyes from you. You’re sitting in a Mexican restaurant giggling into your margarita, another woman—Janey—sits across from you shoveling chips and queso into her mouth, making you laugh even harder.

You’re in that pink dress from earlier. It brightens your skin, hugs your curves but in a modest way, it’s more than appropriate for a teacher to wear, but he’s salivating at the thought of his talons tearing through it and exposing the soft flesh beneath.

Would you cry out for him? Cling to him as he fucks you? You look so pretty in pink, and he wants to go slow, keep you in that color for as long as possible, but he knows himself better than that. The moment he’s able to, he’ll shred the garment, leaving ribbons of fabric in his wake as he bends you over the nearest piece of furniture and slams into you. He wants to feel your warmth around him, hear you begging for him, his name falling from your perfect lips as he gropes your breasts, fangs scraping down your throat, marking you as his.

You laugh again at something the waiter said, and it’s musical, and perfect, you are perfect.

A twinge of jealousy, a foolish thing he knows, but the thought passes through his mind. It should be him making you laugh. He’s studied you now, he knows exactly what makes you laugh, what songs you hum as you prepare your classroom for the day, how you keep colorful Band-Aids in your purse because you just can’t turn off being a teacher, Janey.

And you’re Gabi’s favorite teacher, he wasn’t lying when he told you she talked about you, though he may have added the pretty part. She goes on and on about you, to the point where he almost doesn’t need the cams, he can get every bit of information from his daughter.

“And then, Ms. Y/N told us about her trip to Disney World! She went with her boyfriend, but I don’t know why.” Gabi says, collecting the animal shaped macaroni on her fork. He let her pick dinner, feeling guilty that he didn��t know she’d cried over her lost tooth.

He feels guilty about snapping at you too. He was already worked up, his job, the multiverse, traffic. And last night he forgot all about the Tooth Fairy, so in the morning Gabi was afraid the Tooth Fairy didn’t like her. But you don’t get rewards for losing things once you’ve grown up, and the idea of Gabi going into that pain blindly, having to watch as those she loves disappears around her makes him want to rip his heart from his chest.

“What do you mean Mija?” He asks, his own forkful of mac and cheese halfway to his mouth.

How had he missed you having a boyfriend? Was it serious? Did he treat you well? How easy would it be to make him disappear?

“Well, Ms. Y/N was really happy when she was talking about her trip, but then when she mentioned her boyfriend, she got sad.” Gabi explains, a frown tugging at her lips. “I don’t like him.”

“Yeah?” He prompts her, fighting the urge, to call up Lyla and have her run a search for your boyfriend.

“He came in one time on her birthday, but he was all weird and smelled bad.” Then she got up from the table and mimed stumbling and swaying. “And he walked like this. Ms. Y/N was really mad. Plus, he didn’t even bring her a present.”

Your boyfriend showed up to an elementary school—your place of work on your birthday, drunk, with no gift.

“That’s not nice, when was Ms. Y/N’s birthday?” If he was speaking to anyone but his daughter, he was sure they’d see right through them, but his sweet girl thought nothing of it.

“Last week, I wanted to tell you about it, but you were on your trip, so I told Tia Margo.”

Tia Margo, the old woman next door. He needs to speak with her about letting him know there was a drunk at his daughter’s school. Maybe next time he sees her in the hall, he’ll mention it to her.

“I wish you had told me, then maybe we could’ve gotten her a gift to make up for it.” He says, smiling at her, so she knows he’s not upset.

“I don’t think one gift would make it all better, she’s sad about her boyfriend a lot.” She emphasizes the last word, making the ending sound sharp as she stabs at her food.

“It sounds like he’s a bad boyfriend. Make sure you stay away from boys like him, Mija.” He can’t help but feel protective, even though she’s only six.

He watches as she eats, her hair in a simple braid, a sparkly pink hairband tying it off. “Who did your hair?”

She stops and proudly holds the braid up. “Ms. Y/N, well Emma did it first, but then it fell out when I did a cartwheel, so Ms. Y/N fixed it, and she said I could keep the hairband.”

If he focuses, he can smell the scent of you, mingled with the scent of his home, as if you’re already beside them in your rightful place.

“Maybe we should get her a thank-you gift?” He suggests, his heart warming at the excitement on Gabi’s face.

She is so good, so pure, and sweet. She is nothing like him, and yet she is everything he wished for her to be. He doesn’t know her mother, not in his original universe, but he knows her in this one, watched the other him break down over her leaving. Agony is a cannon event, no interference allowed. He hopes she never returns, that she stays away from his daughter. Doesn’t ruin her with her selfishness.

Just as your boyfriend is ruining you.

He waits until Gabi’s asleep to call out for Lyla. She appears and raises an eyebrow at the way he clutches your hairband.

“She has a boyfriend, find me everything you can on him.”

“I knew you had the hots for her.” Lyla laughs, disappearing before he can dismiss her.

He waits, packs Gabi’s lunch, slips two dollars under her pillow because he’ll be damned if his daughter believes some magical creature doesn’t like her, then cleans the kitchen and his bedroom three times over until finally Lyla returns.

“Okay, boss, you’re gonna want to sit down for this.”

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @aeryns--playground

[shelbgrey]

Can you do a Zack Addy x gn reader where reader goes to the Jeffersonian to bring him food and eat with him and everyone is confused because they didn't know Zack had a partner please?

Who's got him smiling like that?(Zack Addy)

Paring: Zack Addy x reader.

Summary: while y/n has lunch with their boyfriend Zack, the Jeffersonian tries to figure out what's going on between the two of them.

A/n: sorry this took so long and that it's shorter than my usual content. I hope you enjoy though.

MasterList

Seeley, Cam, Temperance, and Angela looked down from the balcony on the second floor of the lab. They leaned against the railing confused as they watched Zack laughing with y/n while they ate the lunch y/n brought.

“gotta be a sibling” Booth said, rubbing his hands together. In his eyes Zack was just a child genius that didn't have time to date.

“all of Dr. Addy's siblings are in New Jersey, but that could be a possibility,” Brennan said, looking at Booth then back down at Zack. Something about seeing Zack laughing like that with this beautiful person made her heart swell with happiness.

“Maybe it's just a friend,” Cam shrugged.

“No. I've never seen him laugh like that, he's definitely in love with whoever that is” Angela smiled. She felt so happy seeing him laugh. She could tell all that mattered to him tight now was y/n.

--------(1st pov)--------

“So, how's work?” I asked, nibbling on the last of my fries.

Zack nodded, munching on his onion rings. “well we found some very interesting set of particulates, something neither me nor Hodgins have seen on a victim before, and the humerus…” he stopped mid sentence.

Even though I never really understood all the science mumbo-jumbo I still like hearing him talk about it. There's something about seeing him get all excited and talk about something he's passionate about.

“no, no, keep going. I love it when you talk Science-y” I said resting my chin on my fist.

“'Science-y' isn't a word… And it's fine” Zack said, putting the rapper his burger came in and his napkin in the brown paper bag. “on another note, how's everything in the animal kingdom?”

I worked at the local animal shelter in town, it was an amazing job and I got work and take care of all kinds of dogs and cats. “well… Now that you mention it…” I started and gave him an innocent look. Zack tilted his head and gave me a warning look. “no! I know that look” he said, pointing his finger at me.

“Aw, but he was so cute”

“we already have two dogs... And a cat, that cat still dislikes me” he mumbled the last part.

“It's a small dog though,” I said, giving him a pouty lip. “it's a weiner dog mix, he'll stay tiny” we already had a black lab and a golden retriever, then on top of that I brought home a white cat home three months ago.

Zack playfully rolled his eyes. He always said he admired my love for all animals and loved how compassionate I was for all of them. Not so much when I keep bringing my ‘work’ home with me as he says.

“just imagine a cute little sausage dog curled up in your lap, helping you read Science stuff for work”

Zack sighed playfully.

“I'll let you name him” I smiled and gave him the puppy eyes he can't refuse. He sighed again. “don't give me the look”

“Please”

Zack groaned in a very monaton way. “... Fine”

I immediately wrapped my arms around him and kissed his forehead. “thank you babe”

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

“what are you doing?” Hodgins asked, walking up to the others. He looked over the balcony to see what everyone was staring at. He smiled when he saw y/n and Zack together.

“trying to figure out who's with Addy,” Booth said.

“Oh, that's y/n” Hodgins smiled.

Everyone gave Hodgins a confused look as Hodgins yelled down at the couple “Hi y/n!”

Y/n left Zack's arms and happily waved at Zack's best friend. “hey, Hodgins”

“soo… Who's y/n?” Angela asked Hodgins.

“Zack's partner” Hodgins smiled like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“your telling me Zack… Our little child prodigy is y/n's boyfriend” Booth asked, shocked but at the same time impressed Zack snatched up a beautiful person like y/n.

“trust me I didn't even know y/n existed until Zack tried to seek them in one night when he was still living with me” Hodgins said.

“Well, y/n seems to make him happy,” Cam smiled down at the couple.

“y/n's great… Zack just seems so much happier now”

The team smiled at the couple, Zack and y/n were in there own little world talking about the knew puppy and the case Zack was working on. Hodgins was right, he was so much happier with y/n in his life, he felt more alive and human. He just couldn't help but smile everytime he was in y/n's presents.

[luvyeni]

MY SHY NEIGHBOR ( chapter 3. )

— CHAPTER THREE: lovestreams …

— 𖦹 warnings? 18+, cursing, masturbation, jeongin is down bad ( this is told in jeongins pov )

previous chapter - next chapter - my shy neighbor masterlist

jeongin genuinely was gonna go to sleep, but han jisung put the thought into his head. “fuck it.” he got up — sitting at his desk, opening his laptop. “oh that’s right.” he grabbed his headphones, sitting back down.

after plugging his headphones in, he typed in his favorite sight, scrolling through the main feed, searching for his favorite cam girl. “shit.” he cursed realizing she wasn’t streaming that night. should he just go to bed then? but he was already hard.

he was about to head to twitter, when he got a popup ad. “hm?” he read the words on the screen. “love streams?” he never heard of it, he shrugged, clicking the ad — what’s the worst that could happen.

he rid himself of his jeans while waiting for the page to load. his eyes widened at the new selection of girls, this sight was much bigger than the previous one, his cock twitched at the all the content.

he scrolled down, palming himself until he came across the top streamers selections. he scrolled over searching for the best one until he stopped at one. “lovergirl?” he clicked the screen, your body coming into frame, the camera off your face — you must want to keep your identity hidden.

“hi everyone!” your voice low and seductive, but also had a sweetness to it — that was what he liked the best.

“did you guys miss me?” you asked, your white robe hanging off your shoulders along with your bra strap. “yes? good i missed you guys to.” you chuckled, his cock was begging to be freed. “oh you want me to take it off?” you pulled at the robe, he nodded his head, like you could see him.

“if i do something nice for you, doesn’t that mean you have to do something nice for me?” he knew what that meant, so did the other viewers, because soon your tip jar was filling up. he reached for his card, typing in his credit card information.

he typed in $50 without flinching, you smiled at all the donations. “you guys are too kind.” you said, coming closer to the camera, he could now see your plump lips, your boobs about to spill from your bra, he bit his lip. “i guess i owe you guys something.”

you slowly undid your robe, letting it fall, your bra was next, you slowly pulled down the straps, undoing the latches, watch the bra fall into your lap, your boobs bouncing from being freed, he could hold it anymore, he stood up, pulling his underwear down, he cock sprung from his boxers, hitting his abdomen. “shit, he hissed.”

“is this what you guys wanted?” you chuckled , squeezing your boobs together, they looked so soft, he could only imagine what they felt like. “fuck.” he squeezed the base of his cock, teasing himself.

“no? this isn’t what you want?” your lips formed a pout, he thought about what they would look like covered in his cum. “well what is it you want?”

he quickly typed into the chat box. ‘your pants, take your pants off.’

“my shorts?” his heart fluttered, he knew there was thousands of comments saying the same thing, but it felt like you were personally answering him. “don’t you like them?” you teased, pulling at your waistband, a whimper emitting from your lips as you let it go, the elastic snapping against your waist.

“i wore them especially for you.” for him? that made him squeeze his cock, he for sure found his new favorite streamer.

“i guess you have to do something else for me.” he quickly typed in $100 dollars, he knew he shouldn’t have spend that much, but he was desperate — clicking the send button. “oh? 100 dollars, you must be really eager.” he froze, you were talking about him.

“what’s your name?” you said. “thank you FOX.YJN, everyone say thank you to FOX.YJN.” he smiled, the way you said his name, fuck he was gonna cum, he had to stop himself, you hadn’t even done anything, yet you had this hold on him.

you sat back, your legs fully on display, as you took off your shorts, revealing your white matching lace underwear, a wet patch in the middle. “shit.” he whispered, as you rubbed yourself through your underwear. “fuck.” you whimpered.

he seen the tips go up, and the comments telling you to remove your underwear, he didn’t hesitate to type in another $150, hitting send. “o-oh, YJN seems to want it more than any of you tonight.”

you slid your panties down your leg, spreading your legs, your wet cunt on display. “i’m so wet right now.” you moaned, rubbing your folds slowly. “f-feels so good.”

jeongin began to move his hand up and down his cock, moving slowly with you. “fu-fuck please speed up.” he groaned to himself, but it seemed like you answered his prayers, your fingers slowly entering your cunt, you moaned.

the noises from your pussy filling up his earbuds, as you sped up. “fu-fuck my fingers aren’t enough.” you moaned. “i wish it was yours.” he moaned, probably louder than he should’ve, but hearing you say that, in that whiny tone drove him crazy.

“fuck i’m gonna cum.” you whimpered. “m-me too.” he sighed, squeezing his tip. “fuck, please cum with me, cum with me please.” your begging really pushed him over the edge.

“fuck, i’m cumming!” you screamed, cumming all over your fingers. “shit.” he came right after, cum spurting from his tip, covering his hand and shirt. “oh fuck.”

you were talking to the camera as he came down from your high. “wow you guys tipped a lot tonight.” you giggled, your lips swollen from biting them.

“i should show my face next time?” you read the comments. “i told you guys already, maybe one day, but not right now.”

you interacted with a few more comments before, you slid your robe back on, covering your body. “i have to go now guys.” you pouted. “i know, i wish i could stay with you guys longer, maybe next time.”

you blew a kiss to the camera, before the stream cut off — leaving jeongin to sit with his thoughts, fuck it was his first time watching you, yet you left this impact on him, he had to see more of you.

he closed his laptop, grimacing at the sticky mess he created. “i guess i should get cleaned up.” he got up from his chair.

it hadn’t even hit him that he spent 300 dollars.

— ( taglist. OPEN ) @soulsbbg @k-poplv @yourmomscuntis2tighy @bbokarimenu @enczen @queen-in-the-shadows @thesweetesttattoo @ririlinoriri @aloverga @ashiitex @ddazed-lhs @heartsforhyunjin @chlodavids @simp4myself @surefornext @lostwonderwall @xxr-s4sha @charmer-c @vixensss @frobin4ever @bmnyy @semi-semiisbae @m111nho @i2innie

©LUVYENI

[technicallyimportantsweets]

Horny Yuna

A/N: Just some random thought that was floating around my brain. Btw this is set when boys like you was made.

Warnings: Smut, Masturbation, Mommy Kink, abs riding, a teeny tiny bit of exhibitionism

Yuna’s POV:

It was another day of filming. So tiring. Promotions, dance practise, recording, photoshoot. All to make our boys like you song inspired by Taylor Swift. (Imagine seeing her in person it would be such a dream) Sometimes it’s so overwhelming being an idol, yes I do really love my job making midzy’s so happy but our work hours are hectic and unpredictable. We could be scheduled from 8 am all the way to 10pm and other days we have nothing on. Today we were lucky as all we had were some vocal recordings to do in the morning and dance practise for an hour as the dance isn’t to hard we just had to be synchronised.

“Yuna come on our driver is here.” Lia called.

“Yup I’ll be there soon.” In my usual excited tone. I finished the last touches of my makeup and left the dorm to join the others outside.

Our manager sat in the front seat chaeryeong and Yeji in the next two seats near the windows. And then me, Ryujin and Lia squished in the backseats.

We arrived at the studio in no time. The car ride totally wasn’t chaotic Yeji, lia and I were totally not belting our hearts out doing karaoke. Chaeryeong decided to scroll through social media and Ryujin took a nap which is impressive through all the noise.

( I don’t think people want more story bits so imma just cut to the smut )

It was Ryujin’s turn and boy I never thought I could get so turned on from those lyrics, it made me fantasise so many things while i waited for her to finish.

Well, you must be goin' crazy Thinkin' I'll be back, I'm sorry 'Cause you're cryin' like a baby But do I look like your mommy?

Yea you do look like my mommy and I am would be your best baby. I really want her long fingers plunging into my cunt that is dripping with need. Not sure if the lyrics are true but if you don’t like boys Ryujin I’m always here to be yours and only yours. I grinded slightly on the corner of the red couch I was sitting on hoping it would elevate the heat I was feeling but it only intensified.

Sigh what am I thinking i excused myself to the bathroom splashing water on my face. I really don’t want to mess up our friendship we even have so many years on our contract so if things ended awkwardly I would still have to see her everyday. God damn Yuna she thinks of you as a sister you even have the same last name for heavens sake.

( time skip )

After practising the dance I made the fatal mistake of looking towards Ryujin’s direction. Her abs glistened with a sheen layer of sweat her slightly below shoulder length messy hair. Oh how i would give anything to ride those abs. Ahhh why am i suddenly thinking so many dirty thoughts about my member.

“Unnie can we go home now?” I whined to Yeji the ache in my core being insufferable.

“Sure, but are you feeling ok? Your face is a bit red and your squirming a lot.”

“Yea I’m good just a bit under the weather.”

“If you say so.”

( At the dorms )

I bolted inside my room locking it as fast as possible throwing my outfit and under garments somewhere. Taking my fingers and plunging them immediately into my pussy dripping with arousal.

I turned on some fan cams of Ryujin and got to work.

Others POV:

“Do you think Yuna is ok? She has been acting odd all day and she ran straight into her room.” Chaeryeong commented.

“ I’m not sure but should someone check in on her?” Lia asked

“Ryujin”

They heard Ryujin’s name being called from Yuna’s room. Perhaps she needs medication or water.

Ryujin cautiously made her way over to Yuna’s room seeing what she wanted.

Ryujin POV:

Did I just hear Yuna groan? Is she ok? Is she that sick? I rushed to her door only to find it was locked.

She really sounded sick so I took my lock picking set out to pick her lock. What if she had fainted in there and hit her head? I had to at least make sure she was doing alright.

I was in the middle of picking her lock when I heard her moan Ryujinnie Mommy please… F-Faster. I definitely now had an idea what had occupied her mind all day. I was very flattered that, that someone was me. I now was really turned on and Yuna needed to fix the problem she started plus she sounded like she was having a little difficulty pleasuring herself so why don’t I just go in there and help her a bit.

“Oh you wanted me to go faster huh? What was that you were calling me, mommy?”

3rd person POV:

Yuna was shocked trying to pull a blanket over her as quick as possible hiding in embarrassment. Ryujin had seen it coming and immediately pulled the blanket off her. Revealing Yuna’s puffy flaps coated in a thick layer of cum and arousal.

“It’s not w-what it looks like unnie.”

“Are you sure because I came in here to help my baby and for her to get her mommy to a climax as well.”

Yuna was at a loss of words

“How does that sound” Ryujin said with a smirk

Yuna was still shocked and could only nod her head quickly in agreement. She never thought she would get another chance to indulge in her fantasies. She pulled down Ryujin’s clothes so fast it could beat an Olympian. Throwing Ryujin’s clothes somewhere she got to work on Ryujin’s pussy giving it a few kitten like licks. Then plunging her tongue in to the older girl. Ryujin produced some very unholy sounds that were music to Yuna’s ear. Determined to hear that sound from her unnie again she plunged her fingers in and sucked on her bud creating double stimulation.

“Yunahh— you ahh better not— stop mmmh.”

Ryujin’s sentences were barely coherent but they got the message along to Yuna. She picked up her speed and eventually was rewarded with a sweet sticky substance that she tried to take as much of it in her mouth but ultimately failing with some dribbling down the sides of her face.

“Unnie you good?”

Ryujin just laid there thoroughly fucked her eyes screwed shut panting not moving an inch.

“Sorry for being a bit greedy but woah Yuna mmmm you make me feel soooooo good”

“I didn’t  even know getting eaten out could feel like that” Ryujin slurred almost as if she was drunk

“Sorry to assume but you haven’t had sex yet im your first?!?”

“Uhm… no?” Ryujin’s voice came out quietly embarrassed that she had blurted out her secret that she was planning on taking to her grave.

“You give off such a girl crush vibe I just kinda assumed you’ve done it before if it makes you feel any better you’re my first as well.” ‘But definitely not my first sexual encounter I’ve been preparing for this day for ages’ Yuna added in her head.

“Being an idol has kept me pretty busy”

“Anyways my darling what is your first fantasy that you would like to fufill” Ryujin grabbed a magic wand like thing from a box nearby and waved it around in the air as if she was casting a spell

‘Fuck why the hell did ryujin pick up that and why does she look so innocent does she know that she’s holding a dildo?’ 

‘I wonder what this button does? And why does Yuna look redder than a tomato is that even possible?’ Ryujin thought 

‘I mean it’s probably just some lights right?’

Yuna quickly took the wand from Ryujin’s hand while she was inspecting the button and shoved it under pillow and switched positions with ryujin. Thump! Ryujin landed harshly onto the bed she didn’t even have the time to realize before she found a Shin Yuna grinding her pussy down onto her flat stomach.

( Authors note: idk how you guys do it with those fancy software thingos to do the text stuff but imma just be creative bare with me 😭)

 🌷🍓Flowering Strawberry 🍓🌷 = Lia

🌿🍵 Sleepy Matcha Lover 🍵🌿 = Ryujin

✨👑 Baby Princess 👑✨= Yuna

🐈‍⬛🖤 Yuna’s Cat 🖤🐈‍⬛ = Chaeryeong 

🍭🧁 Sugar-holic 🧁🍭 = Yeji ( sorry guys ik the username sucks )

🐈‍⬛🖤 Yuna’s Cat 🖤🐈‍⬛: Does anyone else think ryujin has been in Yuna’s room for an abnormally long time?

🍭🧁 Sugar-holic 🧁🍭: Maybe they’re fucking

 🌷🍓Flowering Strawberry 🍓🌷: Maybe you just have a really dirty mind and ur just upset cause u haven’t been fucked in a long time 

🍭🧁 Sugar-holic 🧁🍭:  Nuh uh

🐈‍⬛🖤 Yuna’s Cat 🖤🐈‍⬛:  Guys I’m sure they are responsible enough to not be doing that

 🌷🍓Flowering Strawberry : But what else could they be doing tho? 🤭

🍭🧁 Sugar-holic 🧁🍭:  Says the one who bought a face roller in the shape of a dick 

🐈‍⬛🖤 Yuna’s Cat 🖤🐈‍⬛: Yea but I was responsible with it wasn’t I?

🍭🧁 Sugar-holic 🧁🍭: Sure sure if being responsible means sticking it up your pussy to see if it would fit 

🐈‍⬛🖤 Yuna’s Cat 🖤🐈‍⬛: Nuh uh I never did that 

🍭🧁 Sugar-holic 🧁🍭: 🙄

 🌷🍓Flowering Strawberry 🍓: Enough of this shenanigans even though I was a part of it we should probably go check in on them. 

🍭🧁 Sugar-holic 🧁🍭: You sure about that? I can hear Yuna’s moans bouncing off the walls and they sound borderline pornographic and I don’t want to walk in on that.

🐈‍⬛🖤 Yuna’s Cat 🖤🐈‍⬛: Unnie 🤣 I see you sitting by their door literally getting off from hearing their moans 

🍭🧁 Sugar-holic 🧁🍭: Meanie 🖕why did you rat me out 

🍭🧁 Sugar-holic 🧁🍭: Well since Chaeryeong ratted me out I’m bringing her down with me did you know she keeps a journal of at times in mv’s and videos we look the most sexy/ fuckable?

🐈‍⬛🖤 Yuna’s Cat 🖤🐈‍⬛: Unnie you meanie I’m not ur fan anymore hmph.

🍭🧁 Sugar-holic 🧁🍭: Noooo cherrryyyy 

🍭🧁 Sugar-holic 🧁🍭 deleted a message

🐈‍⬛🖤 Yuna’s Cat 🖤🐈‍⬛: fine ur forgiven 

🌷🍓Flowering Strawberry 🍓: We going in or no?