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#i Dont send shit to people i Dont. i just complain about them where they wont see lol. like here.
tomurakii · 6 months
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I truly apologise but I've never found a character more irritating than Ruby Rocks. It is severely impacting my ability to watch a crown of candy because this bratty literally-the-embodiment-of-the-status-quo bitter bastard child won't stop sulking and being shitty to the only good surviving member of this royal bloodline (Saccharina).
The immediate Rocks family in general is so unsympathetic, I'm sorry but if you want me to feel bad over your personal growth journey you can't ALSO be a monarch who has absolute power over an entire nation-state. If you had literally the best education of everyone in your country and you're still an idiot I don't know what to tell you except that you're a resource hoarding pig who has not earned an iota of the power or luxury you have. They have SERVANTS and all they do is complain about going to class or doing their job. Hey if it sucks so bad demolish the state and redistribute your wealth <3 you won't <3
#shes just wrong and a brat. ive found it difficult to sympathise with the monarch characters the whole time but shes the worst of the 3#i was her age 3 months ago and I've NEVER been as stupid and ignorant and selfish as she is#youre gonna send thousands of your people to die at war over your own petty vendetta??? you grow up in immense privilege and all you do is#complain about the tiny bit of responsibility it comes with but the second someone else (who has worked infinitely harder and suffered#infinitely more) comes along and is willing to take that responsibility you hate her and talk shit and try and turn people against her#because she'll “uphold the status quo” WHERE did you get that from. she has more respect for the people and awareness about the monarchy#than you EVER have. youre a fuckin idiot rich kid. this is game of thrones-themed 1400s monarchy. some 30% of kids die in their first year#barely any of them can read. 90% of your people have experienced the death of their parents or siblings firsthand#but rather than ending the war you're gonna send MORE of them to die fighting the empire over your personal vendetta#saccharina has NEVER been pro church??? she is quite literally only taking the throne to CHANGE the status quo#meanwhile your ass would probably keel over and die after 2 seconds without the luxury that status quo has afforded you your entire life#you dont want to change SHIT. youre just mad it isnt you or your OTHER sister on the throne anymore. your dad is the fuckin EMPEROR#you ARE the status quo. “changing the status quo” means people come and take your house from you brat ass loser. it means they kill your#father. you dont want that youre just making excuses because youre a stupid brat who got oneshotted your first time leaving the castle#because despite 18 years of the best possible education you dont understand simple concepts like “people want to kill royalty”#jet died because she was immature and by god if ruby isnt carrying on her legacy
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skaluli · 1 year
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"""" tw eddsworld mention """"
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girl what the fuck lmao
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orcelito · 1 year
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I'm in fuckin bitch mode today I guess
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highvern · 8 days
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endpoint
Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader
Genre: fluff, smut, angst, FWB to idiots to lovers
warnings:  cumshot/facial, unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, oral sex (m & f receiving), rough sex, breath play (choking), mentions of exhibitionism, face fucking, virgin wonwoo mentions, idiots in love, edging (emotionally), impact play, sir kink (brief), alcohol consumption
Length: ~19.5k
Note: thank you to @gyuswhore my love, my life, for suffering through this with me. this fic is set in the same universe as her gyu fic for this collab so check it out (threat). also thank u @haologram and everyone else who beta'd this for me bc im sensitive. follow @camandemstudios for more fics!!! i will come back later and tag the people who commented on the teaser but rn im getting day drunk hehehe
summary: Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.
collab m.list || m.list
This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.
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“What’s the difference between a proton and an electron again?”
“Shoot me in the fucking head,” Wonwoo whispers harshly.
He’s a seat over, a laptop covered in gaming stickers and a coffee cup containing a lethal amount of caffeine occupying the space atop the narrow lecture desk. It’s a feign to productivity. His screen is split between thesis notes and a countdown to a new video game release that unfortunately hits 0 in the middle of lecture. 
Dr. Wagner’s intro to chemistry  course isn’t difficult – freshman aside – which is why you and Wonwoo agreed to be her teaching assistants. Easy money and a way to get in her good graces come grad school application season. You’ve TA’ed the same course since sophomore year for different professors but it’s all the same; the metaphorical killing field before hopeful freshmen become cannon fodder in the real trial of will: O Chem. 
“Me first,” you whisper back. 
Wonwoo slumps in his chair, opening the shared drive keeping track of problem areas to touch on in lab hours, and typing “check for basic brain activity” under the class To-Do list. 
Fair enough. If they can’t understand the basics this far into the semester then you two are in for a world of hurt for the next practical. You're in for a world of hurt come next study hall when half of them will complain about failing their quiz this morning despite having the answers spoon fed straight from the notes.
[09:48] You:  be nice
[09:48] wonwoo: if they were smarter, id be nicer
[09:48] You: maybe they’re scared stupid
It wouldn’t be too far off. One time a freshman burst into tears while asking Wonwoo to check their practice work during lab hours. Wonwoo swears he didn’t say anything and the kid looked on the verge of a mental breakdown if the wind blew the wrong way.
[09:48] wonwoo: from what?
[09:48] You: the fact ur trying to kill them with your mind
[09:49 ]wonwoo : i wouldn’t kill them
[09:49] wonwoo: just maim or seriously injure so they dont come to class and say dumb shit
Dr. Wagner fields more questions in front of the powerpoint. More ‘dumb shit’ Wonwoo rolls his eyes at with such obvious disgust even you feel chastised. Luckily, no one can see his face from the front row besides you.
[09:49] You: you wonder why they like me more
[09:50] wonwoo: i know why they like you more
[09:50] You: oh?
Stifling an eye roll of your own you throw a glance his way as the next message comes through,
[09:50] wonwoo: nice ass
“Alright, Y/N and Wonwoo will be passing out the study guide for the next exam. We still have a few weeks so don’t worry about the back half but try and review the modules we’ve done so far and bring questions for them during study hours,” Dr. Wagner prattles off.
The gigantic stack of printouts is split in half for you and Wonwoo to disperse around the massive lecture hall. Over one hundred students sit in this lecture; the unfortunate ones who were forced to take a 9 AM course three days a week. Half look like their brain is melting out of their ears, other’s clearly haven’t paid attention at all, and a few are sound asleep. It’s Friday after all. They probably didn’t get back from their Thirsty Thursday night out until a few hours ago.
You wouldn’t even be here if Wonwoo wasn’t a built in insurance policy.
Dr. Wagner collects her things and heads towards the front exit with a cheery, “Have a good weekend!”
“There's a party at Sigma tonight,” Wonwoo shares as you both pack your own bags. The next class is already shuffling through the doors to claim their seats.
“I have work until eleven.”
“After?”
Shouldering your bag, you head towards the door where the next class is already trickling in to find their seats. “Don’t you have a tournament tomorrow?”
“I only have to be at the party for like an hour. I can come and walk you home.”
“Fine,” you nod. “But bring your laptop. I think Chan fucked up the last set of results and we need to fix them.”
It’s not unusual for Wonwoo to spend his Friday nights with you; or another night for that matter. He lives in a dingy frat house on the edge of campus with twenty other guys. It’s an act of mercy. A long standing tradition from the week before freshman year when you two were the only chemistry majors in your orientation group and that turned into a clumsy hook up at an upperclassman’s party. You didn’t know he’d be a virgin and he didn’t know your high school boyfriend dumped you less than twenty four hours before you left for college (but not before you lost your own virginity in the backseat of his car). 
It’d been…not good. 
Wonwoo was awkward and you were unsure. But he was sweet under the bravado; walked you home that night, pretended he wasn’t interested in the fact your roommate never moved in, leaving the suite empty. But he wasn’t a good enough actor to feign nonchalance when you invited him upstairs. Turns out sex was a lot better the second time around, in a bed that didn’t belong to an unknown upperclassman who could’ve burst in any minute. 
Wonwoo isn’t your boyfriend. You’re too busy piecing together the ten year plan concocted since junior year of highschool to even think about such frilly ideas. There’s barely enough time as it is; you’ve got work, a full class schedule, TAing, and all the random clubs you’ve wiggled your way into to pad your resume. 
And he’s busy too. Navigating a sports scholarship and one of the hardest majors left barely enough time for him to wipe his own ass, let alone date. Then came research hours and TAing and the fact volleyball, apparently, wasn’t just a one semester sport, there were scrimmages, workouts, and tournaments out of season. 
It’s been over three years of your arrangement which works best because you don’t have to spend precious brain power deciphering if some random guy you went out with once is playing hard to get or just straight up not interested. You have Wonwoo. He’s simple. 
So what you have now, friends. Who hook up. And work together. Who also happens to be applying for the same PhD program for next year. Not together but at the same time.
The application website stares back from your laptop with horror. 
It’s still too early to submit any materials but it’s been highlighted in bold red in your calendar since two years ago. Everything is ready to go the second it opens—except Dr. Wagner’s recommendation. It’s the sole reason you (and Wonwoo) agreed to be her TAs this semester; she’s one of the program’s most notorious alum, her words as good as gold in securing a spot. 
Someone hacks a cough and shatters the eerie silence of the library. The backtrack of sparse typing and the custodian shuffling around to have been the only company throughout your shift. No one would choose to rot at any of the weathered study tables late on a Friday night so early in the semester. 
With the abundance of free time, you fixed Chan’s mistakes in his set of trials easily, no thanks to Wonwoo who still hasn’t shown up. It’s good though. Your stoichiometry homework is submitted three days before the deadline and the mountain of emails clogging your inbox from hopeless undergrads is in the single digits. Half the labs from last week are graded for Dr. Wagner’s approval, the other half can wait until Sunday night. A long weekend of sleep awaits once the clock hits eleven and you’re free to run home.
Wonwoo stumbless in five minutes before the clock runs out. His duffle for tomorrow is slung over his shoulder and he’s already dressed for bed, rumpled sweats and a hat he definitely wore to the party with high hopes to cut out early. 
“You’re late,” you acknowledge, cramming your belongings back into your bag. He’s close enough to get a whiff of. “And you’re drunk.”
“I am not drunk,” he argues.
The lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips says otherwise but it isn’t an argument worth having. All you want to do is get home and pass out.
He shoulders you bag, presenting his hand when you insist you can carry it on your own. The dry warm of his palm against your cold is pleasant enough you don’t argue as you tug him towards the automatic doors.
“Have a goodnight, Mr. Lee,” you call towards the security desk.
The guard, old enough to be your grandfather, calls back, “You too, sweetheart.”
Out in the balmy night, you tug Wonwoo down the street in the direction of your apartment. Two blocks and then a right turn leaving you outside the dowdy building with hallways that constantly reek of weed and new paint smell.
A pack of freshmen girls heading somewhere, marked by their matching uniform of jeans and black tops of various coverage, crowd the sidewalk straight ahead. Someone is crying, one is on the phone, and a few others stand dumbly waiting for their next movie like zombies — all incredibly wasted. You barrel through them without acknowledgement. A few drunken bitter ‘bitch’s hit your back but you ignore them to focus on the man struggling to push through the crowd without accidentally shoulder checking any of them.
On the other side, you ask, “Have fun at the party?”
“Some pledge puked on Jihoon’s stuff,” he huffs, nose scrunching.
“May he rest in peace.”
Wonwoo sways from side to side from the weight of your bag but also whatever radioactive mix was served at the party. The stairs provide an extra challenge since the elevator has been broken for weeks but thankfully it’s a short trip to the second floor.
He presents your belongings with routine ease once the front door of your apartment looms ahead. Music from the floor above shakes the walls; hopefully you can make up for the lack of sleep tomorrow morning.
There isn’t much space inside the four walls you call home – the ‘kitchen’ which is a single counter with a stove and fridge you’re barely around to use, fifteen feet away your bed in the corner, bordered by your desk at the foot cramped with a spray of errant papers and books you’ve been too busy to deal with. The monitor doubles as a TV and finally a tiny loveseat with a broken leg replaced by a stack of hard covers completes the room.
You beeline for the bathroom to wash away the filth of a long day and Wonwoo, keeping on trend, follows into the cramped space.
“Can I help you?” you ask, shirt tossed into the bin in the corner.
Wonwoo’s shirt goes the same and then his pants after a brief struggle. “You know I sleep better when I shower.” 
True.
“And I doubt you're gonna let me in your bed if I’m dirty.”
Even truer.
The water is still cold when you step in but the man glued to your back fights the worst of the chill away. Goosebumps prickle along your skin but have nothing to do with the vent that points directly into the stall (whoever designed the apartments must have had a sick sense of humor) and everything to do with Wonwoo’s mouth tracing the curve of your shoulder.
Forcing the heat blooming between your legs down to a simmer, you focus on washing up and getting into bed before it rolls into a boil and you do something stupid that’ll only leave you and Wonwoo struggling for balance. 
Shower sex is a dangerous sport. Shower sex with Wonwoo has left you both with bruises. Drunken shower sex with Wonwoo will get you both killed.
Soft hums tickle your neck as you clean up. There isn’t enough room for two people to stand in the spray at once so you take turns hogging the steamy water and braving the frigid cold until the last bits of soap swirl the drain.
Even when drying off you stay in each other’s orbit until the need for clothes and sleep drive you both out of the bathroom and back into the equally cramped space of your room.
It’s not until you’re laying on the mattress, darkness snug on all sides, that you feel Wonwoo roll atop you with purpose.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Wonwoo hums into your stomach, fingers crawling up your bare legs.
“That,” you inhale at the nip of his teeth on the curve of your thigh, “doesn’t feel like nothing to me.”
Wonwoo doesn’t answer but gives you plenty of time to brush him off while bruising your skin. You don’t. Instead you sink deeper into the blankets and let him push your shirt up until you're bare once more.
The fuzziness of alcohol lingers in his veins – just enough that he smiles into the strip of skin above your panties as you sigh and arch under the delicious weight of wandering hands and mouth at your nipple.
“Wonwoo,” you sigh and he’s up and kissing you with eager clumsiness.
A familiar prod at your core through his boxers crashes bubbles through your veins. You felt it in the bathroom but now is when you finally get to indulge with subtle grinds Wonwoo meets in his own search for friction. 
“Don’t you need to be up—ugh—early tomorrow?”
He kisses you slowly, tongue dragging along your bottom lip until your mouth opens under his. It burns you from the inside out. Mindlessly you shift your legs to frame his hips better but Wonwoo kisses deeper and all you can think about is giving in to whatever scheme he’s working up to have you both naked and panting.
He leans back a fraction to speak, giving in when you chase his lips before ducking to nip at your ear and mumbling a response. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I will worry about it when you snooze twenty alarms and your team hunts me down because I smothered their star player with a pillow,” you snort but heat under a squeeze of his fingers at your sides.
“Sleep when I’m done with this.”
“And what is ‘this’ exactly?”
A harsh suck at your jaw has your stomach tight. heavy and thick until need drips down your spine to coil in your gut and the emptiness between your thighs becomes unignorable. He hides pleased groans in the curve of your neck until you force a hand under the band of his underwear. Eyes opening, you watch the muscles of his back tense and flex as he rocks against you, fucking your fist greedily.
It doesn’t last long. Wonwoo gets antsy under the taunting pressure of your thumb and descends back down your body with burning lips. “Take your shirt off.”
“It’s cold,” you complain but do as he asks. 
He traces your figure clad in nothing but your glasses and a soiled pair of panties; damp at the crotch from his attention and Wonwoo slips a finger under the hem to tease you that inch closure to depravity.
Wonwoo laves against the hickey on the inside of your thigh from a week ago, it’s yellowed and perfectly shaped like his mouth. It’s tender under his attention, even the gentle tracing on his nose forcing you to wince in discomfort. 
He coos, kissing it before skating back to the hem of your panties, lips vibrating against your skin. “Sorry I didn’t come earlier.”
Why he brings it up now is a mystery. Or the fact he brings it up at all. Life happens. You’ve blown him off more than once for a late night in the library; no hard feelings.
“It’s fine,” you sigh as he tugs the last scrap of fabric off your body and pushes your knees up to display you like a meal.
Spreading you apart, he lands a wet kiss at your entrance before teasing with the heat of his tongue. 
In a beg for sanity you twist a tight grip in his hair; a tangled mess from his drunk endeavors. Wonwoo pushes harder, drowns in your taste with enthusiasm as you moan and sigh. 
“F-fuck.”
He won’t ask if it’s good. He knows it is. Nearly four years of hook ups attunes him to your pleasure, a well rehearsed routine that has you both ache in the best way. 
You lose yourself in shaking breaths, feet planted to drive up into his mouth for more. He sucks your clit and nearly gets his head crushed by your thighs. It doesn’t take much and he knows it. 
You chant ‘gonna cum’ in choked groans that almost die at the edge of your teeth but Wonwoo hears and takes it as permission to pull out the stops, hand at your thing with a harsh grip and fingers sinking home.
He’s memorized all the signs of your want; the wrecked echo of your throat and the sounds he pulls from you a clear tell. He flattens his tongue, holding steady as grind straight into mindless bliss. Spit pools and drips and slips down onto the sheets. Wonwoo hums praise, unintelligible but you vaguely know it’s something that’d make you blush you could hear it over the pounding in your ears.
Back arching, your vision flares white at the edges and when Wonwoo realizes what's happening he makes it last until your fist ball up and you’re floating.
Wonwoo backs down as you twitch through the tail end, sloppy kisses to your clit that could knock into another fit if he isn’t careful. But even as you tremble the only thing you want is the weight of his cock in your mouth, or inside you. You aren’t picky as long as you get to feel him cum too.
You finally manage to pry Wonwoo from between your legs with an ankle to his ribs. You’re not done with him despite the fatigue hanging around your shoulders like dead weight. He angles over top of you for a kiss that tastes too much like pussy for your liking but it’s hot knowing he’s covered in you so you push until his shoulders meet the sheets and you can claim his lap.
His dick strains through his underwear, preening when you rock back into the heat. His nostrils flare when you grab for it, stiff enough to sink onto easily. 
“Oh god,” he groans, head digging back into the pillows to watch you like a goddess.
His fingers web across the tops of your thighs, a harsh grip keeping you flat as he grinds up into the wet heat of your pussy. You whimper and sigh for him; all the sounds he loves to hear. You squeeze your chest, taut nipples framed between the slants of your fingers to entice him until he reaches around and knocks you forward for the sole purpose of taking one in his mouth.
Your eyes roll back, jaw locked open, drowning in the stretch and the bite of his mouth and the hands squeezing your ass so hard it hurts. Wonwoo groans, throaty and desperate. “Gonna cum. Wanna cum in you. Holy shit.”
He gets you on your back. Too absorbed in his own end, he’s dead weight with his tongue between your lips and harsh thrusts that take him right to the edge. It gives that grit against your clit that means you’ll come too, soaked in cum and spit and sweat.
You wish he’d flip you on your front and fuck you with a hand between you shoulder blades and the other tangled in your hair. That’s the kind of fuck that’d leave you satisfied the entire weekend he’s busy but he’s running out of steam just doing this, picking up speed in his thrust, the clap of bodies filling the room.
Chanting his name like a broken record, ‘Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo’ breathy but loud enough your neighbors will leave another passive aggressive note on your door come morning, all you can think about is his cum. On you, in you. A sick part wants him to pull out and cum on your face – he hasn’t, not in a long time because priorities and responsibilities and you're usually lucky to have even five minutes alone before someone needs either of you. But you want it. God do you want it.
“Cum on my face,” you whimper. There’s drool on your lips and sweat in your hairline. Even if he doesn't, you'll need another shower anyway.
A strangled noise escapes from between his teeth at your neck. Then he’s driving forward so hard you burn; painfully so, mouth locked in a silent choke. Your orgasm rips through your insides, jagged at the edges where Wonwoo fucks himself into your guts. 
“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, pulling away and replacing the grip of your pussy with a tight fist as he straddles your chest. 
The taste of cock floods your tongue, heady and intoxicating. You get one, two drags against the stiff head and then he’s cumming, dripping his spend over your lips, then your cheek, then your glasses because he’s a sick freak. Even in the dim light from the window he twitches at the sight. You open your mouth and replace his hold, moaning as more comes to the surface. You swallow down as far as he’ll go which isn’t much in this position but it’s the thought that counts.
Wonwoo grinds to halt with an occasional kick of his hips that leaves you choking – rigid limbs locking in place until he melts with sticky satisfaction. 
He’s up and off, your glasses in hand for a thorough cleaning, not even bothering to flick on any of the lights but you hear the sink running in the bathroom before he comes padding back.
“God,” you whimper in disgust. “That’s so gross.”
“You’re the one who asked for it,” Wonwoo snorts, soft passes of a damp cloth on your skin focused on getting you clean enough to sleep.
“Because it’s hot but you aim for shit.”
Wonwoo tosses the rag somewhere, flopping down and pulling you close as possible with a kiss on your forehead. “Next time I’ll aim for your hair.”
“Bitch.”
The sound of music from upstairs pulses through your head as you drift off, Wonwoo asleep on your chest, fingers laced together on the sheets beside your indecipherably intertwined bodies.
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Your week is divided into a simple pattern. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays you wake bright and early to attend Dr. Wagner’s chem lecture and then stay on campus attending every other class you could find to fill the gap between your evening shift at the library. Tuesdays and Thursdays are void of responsibility until your afternoon lab with the freshman near tears while learning basic titration for four hours, followed by office hours where said freshman finally come to actually cry about their grades. Those are the nights you, Chan, Wonwoo and a handful of other lab techs work on research that carries the same threat of waterworks. 
It’s there Dr. Wagner pulls you and Wonwoo aside.
“I know you both are applying to Dr. Collins lab for your PhD studies,” she starts. 
Her office reflects the same disarray as her personality; warm and lived in. Papers and exams are organized in chaos, thick stacks lining her desk waiting for you and Wonwoo to enter them into the online grade book. Books, some leather, some paperback, some the glossy cover of a textbook with cracked spines and yellowing pages are crammed into the bookshelves lining the walls until they threaten to collapse from the weight. It smells like coffee, plants, and the candle she always has burning. It’s a cozy hovel overlooking the rear courtyard of the science building that resembles the sterility of a hospital. 
Wonwoo occupies the other barrel chair with worn upholstery. You’ve barely seen him in the past three weeks, too busy with volunteering and working and classes while his own responsibilities keep him so exhausted it’s truly a miracle he’s even here. Dark stains ring his eyes beneath his glasses and he looks paler than usual. You’ll ask about it tonight when he comes over to work on your most recent stoichiometry project (which will be forgotten in favor of passing out during a movie while you play with his hair if history is anything to go by).
“I don’t think I’ve ever met two students who belong more in his lab,” she continues.
You try not to preen, but academic validation is a hell of a drug to caffeine addicted undergrads. Wonwoo perks up too. Three and a half years of barely being people for this moment and it’s finally in reach.
“However,” Dr. Wagner clasps her hands atop the dark wooden desk. “I’m writing only one recommendation this semester. It might seem unfair but I want to commit to the student that deserves it the most since my schedule doesn’t allow me much free time.”
It’s like being underwater. You hear her words but nothing registers, blinking rapidly in case this is a hallucination from falling asleep in the lab again.
“I know it might not be the news you hoped for but I know senior year is a lot, especially for students as involved as you all, and I thought this could alleviate some of the stress. You two are the only students I’m considering. So please, keep up the incredible work and we can talk again at the end of the semester when I have a more holistic evaluation of your progress.”
She stands to leave, snagging her purse and blowing out the candle with finality before abandoning the shit storm in your lap for whatever else she has to do on a Thursday night. Probably retell the events of the last five minutes to other professors in the department, laughing at the way you’ve turned purple from holding your breath.
“Have a good night you two! See you tomorrow!”
The office, once warm, feels hollow. You feel hollow. 
“What the fuck?” Wonwoo hasn’t moved either, glued to his seat as he stares at Dr. Wagner’s now vacant chair with his mouth wide in shock.
“Did that just happen?” you scoff in disbelief. “Is she serious?”
Wonwoo collapses over his knees with his hands scrubbing at his face like he also might be hallucinating. “I needed that recommendation.”
“Well, so do I,” you argue.
“I know. This is bullshit.”
“Did Changkyun say anything like this happened last year when she wrote one for him?”
“No, all three people who asked her got one.”
“Oh, so it’s just us she hates. Great!” you throw your hands up, sinking deeper in the chair. Maybe it’ll swallow you whole and the entire ordeal will cease to exist.
“She’s probably just trying to get in our heads so we don’t slack off this semester.”
“Have we ever slacked off any semester? I’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. You’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. We’re those people.”
Since starting college, since that one night during orientation where you and Wonwoo became a ‘we’. Not in the relationship sense, but in the way two lines merge. Same path, same goals, same classes, same PhD program prospects. There was plenty you two did separately but more you did together. Neither competing, but working together. 
But now that’s over.
Because only one of you can get into Dr. Collins lab, only one of you can get the recommendation, and only one of you can have what you both worked tirelessly for over the past three years.
“Listen—” you stand up and scrub at your own face. “It’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.”
“We? Only one of us can get her recommendation. What’s there to figure out?”
Your face goes hot. He’s right. “Well, I need that recommendation.”
“So do I,” Wonwoo argues, eyes cold.
“Fine.”
That recommendation is mine.
“Fine!”
We’ll see about that.
Wonwoo stays in her office, flinching as you slam the door and flee.
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The issue with fighting with Wonwoo is that as mad as both of you are, there are a million responsibilities you share that require close proximity.
Presently, it’s grading the last batch of exams. Seventy eight packets. And because Dr. Wagner doesn’t believe in convenience, it all has to be graded by the hand of two TAs running on nothing but caffeine and spite.
Which means it’s past midnight and the couch has a permanent impression of Wonwoo’s ass while you both silently fume and scratch through wrong answers with a heavy hand in red ink.
The weather reflects the atmosphere; pouring rain and thunder loud enough to shake the windows. The power has flickered in and out since the rain started but you're both too stubborn to call it quits – if there is nothing to keep you occupied then you might rip his throat out.
Wonwoo doesn’t even ask if you want more coffee before he snags your empty mug and moves to the kitchenette. You don’t look up when he sets it back down, and only grab it and take the first sip of perfectly steaming hot sweetness when he flops back on the couch without another word. 
Then the power goes out again, and doesn’t come back.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Using the flashlight on your phone, you search the drawers of your desk for candles. There nowhere to be found amongst the stacks of unopened sticky notes and tangled cords. 
Wonwoo shuffles behind you, papers landing on the coffee table completely abandoned. “We’ve been at this for hours. Let’s just go to sleep.”
“I have them in here somewhere,” you bite, another handful of chargers and a stapled you’ve never used and other things you didn’t even realize you own fill the drawer. You move to the second. “There’s only a few tests left.”
“We can do them tomorrow. It can wait.”
“No,” you spit like a curse.
Whatever Wonwoo was planning to say dies on his lips. “Fine.” 
His shirt lands over your head, you rip it off only to find him half naked in the dark, huddling under one of the throw blankets you keep on the back of the couch. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sleeping.”
“On the couch?” 
“Yep.”
“You’re too tall.”
“Well,” he draws like a pouty kid. “I don’t feel like sharing the bed with you.”
In a way it’s safer to argue about something trivial like this versus the entire reason you’ve iced each other out since that day in her office. Because at least like this, you won’t lose him. It’s stupid and petty but at least you’re speaking to each other; breaking through that wall of silence that’s been steadily growing more and more unnavigable as the inevitable draws nearer.
“Fine, then I’ll sleep on the couch and you take the bed.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. N. O.”
Fine.
It’s difficult to navigate in the dark. Your knees end up a victim to the edge of the coffee table and you trip over the edge of the rug, but you find the couch. Reaching down, you find his chest, then his shoulder. And once you’re sufficiently oriented you sit on him.
“Ow,” Wonwoo grunts as you flop down, elbow in his gut and his chin hitting your forehead. “What are you doing?”
You wedge in closer, slipping between his body and the cushions, bracing to kick him off by force if needed. “Sleeping.”
“Here?” he asks. Too aware of your plan, he turns as well, grabbing the back of the couch overhead to stay put.
“You’re too tall to sleep here.”
“And we’re both too big to sleep here together. Take the bed.”
“No,” you huff.
“No?”
“No. N.O. I believe you’re familiar with the word,” you spit.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“If you keep talking then neither of us will sleep.”
“Neither of us are gonna sleep anyway. You move too much to be comfortable like this.”
He’s right of course. Your hips already ache but if you move then he’ll find some way to pull you off. “I’m fine.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
You do the mature thing and bite him. 
The muscles corded around his pec twitch under your mouth as he flinches. “What the hell was that for?” 
You do it again.
“Stop.”
“Or what?” you ask, muffled in his skin as you move to leave another bite.
Wonwoo also does the mature thing and pins your wrists in one hand, maneuvering until you're sandwiched between the couch with his chest flat to your back.
“I can’t breathe like this,” you muffle into the cushions.
“Oh, how tragic.” You feel his words tickle the back of your neck rather than hear them. 
Wonwoo releases your wrists pinned to your stomach. His hand finds its way under your shirt, his shirt from some stupid frat fundraiser you’d been coerced into attending, flat to your belly with soothing circles. His calf hooks over your own to tangle your bodies together. He kisses the back of your neck, a simple brush of his lips that lingers.
It’s easier to feel everything in the dark. Your annoyance and frustration forged over the past weeks melts away and all that’s left is the need to have Wonwoo close. Just like this. Where there are no deadlines, or responsibilities. Where you both can drown in each others’ presence and everything else is washed away in the heavy drops pounding the windows outside.
Here, everything is uncomplicated.
The next rumble of thunder is loud enough to send you both in the air. Unfortunately, Wonwoo drags you backwards off the couch and to the floor. You land relatively unscathed but he knocks his elbow into the coffee table.
“Are you okay?”
Wonwoo groans and curses, cradling his elbow.
“Aw, tell the doctor where it hurts,” you coo, prodding his side.
He snatches your hand and pins it to his chest but not before lacing his fingers through your own. The gentle rise of and fall of breathing and the thud of his heart reverberates down your arm and straight into your own chest where something frozen softens. “Has anyone told you you’re annoying when you’re tired?”
“Yes. You. Lots of times.”
“Good. Wanna make sure you’re aware.”
Lighting turns everything white, a quick flash highlighting the room. There and gone and leaving you more disoriented than before. Rolling over, you hook a thigh over his lap which he welcomes, tugging you closer and absorbing the proximity like second nature. You’re a glutton for warmth –  Wonwoo’s warmth specifically – even in his sweater and his sweat shorts and his shirt, you still want more of him.
“We can’t sleep like this.”
You don’t want to move – laying like this, in the dark, nose dug into his chest as you twisting your fingers in his, squeezing and glowing pathetically when he squeezes back – all you want is to drown in him a little longer. Until you're forced to come up for breath.
But the sore spot between you two is still raw like a fresh bruise.
“Then sleep in the bed,” his lips drags over your knuckles as he speaks.
“No. You sleep in the bed, you’re too tall to sleep on the couch.”
“Fine.” Wonwoo jumps up from his place on the floor, grabbing your hands once again before dragging you around the coffee table towards the opposite side of the room. It’s ridiculously childish, especially in the dark where he bounces off the desk and the rug roughens the back of your legs.
He shimmies you around a corner and a cloud of laughter puffs between your lips. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sleeping in the bed, and you’re sleeping in the bed with me.”
“What if I don’t want to sleep next to you?”
“Then I’ll cry. Like that time we watched Steel Magnolias.”
“Have mercy,” you whimper.
“Then get your ass in bed.”
Deflating like a balloon, you stand. Wonwoo keeps his hands on you the entire time, guiding you down to the mattress and covering your body with his own just in case of an escape. He bunkers down in the safety of your neck, dragging your hands to his hair, mimicking the motions he craves until you take up the action and gently comb through the tangles.
A part of you wants to cry. Preemptively mourn the end of this – whatever this is. Late nights with Wonwoo, whispering in the dark about clueless underclassmen and annoying professors. Taking turns scrolling through adoptable cats at the local rescue. Cooing over them, rolling your eyes when Wonwoo finds Pixel still listed as available for adoption, a sign to him that he’s meant to have her except he lives in a frat house. Or the nights neither of you can sleep and take a trip to the local diner and tuck yourselves away in a corner booth to watch drunk people cling to consciousness over waffles and hash browns. 
There will be no more of that. Not by the time winter break comes. One of you is getting the gold ticket and the other will be up in the air with the hundreds of other people competing for the same handful of slots. And if one of you doesn't get in? 
“Was that so hard?” he whispers into your collar.
When you don’t answer, he looks up at. In the cast of lighting coming through the window he’s the same Wonwoo. The one you’ve been best friends with for years now. The one who is practically glued to your side whenever possible. 
The one who you’ll have to say goodbye to.
He meets your kiss lazily. Like he still thinks you have all the time in the world.
It makes the urge to cry that much worse.
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The rain is gone by morning. 
The room glows from the orange light of the first minutes of sunrise. Sometime in the night you rolled to your side and Wonwoo pressed tight to your back. He’s awake, drawing shapes on your hip beneath the fabric of your shirt.
“Morning.” 
You hum and roll over to burrow in his chest, the crown of your head digging into his neck and away from the sun. “Morning.”
The warmth of his hands trace the curve of your back, pulling you closer; hiding his own discontent with such an early break in the tentative truce that only seems to exist in the late hours of night and earliest minutes of dawn. Days of sleep deprivation with nothing but sterile lighting in the lab leaves you both needy and vulnerable. So he hugs you tighter and sighs when you do the same.
He’s hard against your thigh. Clearly a result of biology more than need because he’s snoring against your hairline. Flashes of dreams rush forward – him beneath you, on top of you, behind you. It’s been weeks since you two last fucked. When you called him an idiot and he called you stubborn and next thing you were on the table with your legs spread for Wonwoo’s hand in a clumsy bump and grind while arguing about which one of you fucked up the biosensor callibration through gritted teeth and needy whimpers.
You’re wet. With his thigh pressed between your own the fact becomes more evident as the urge to curl into it nags.
Taking advantage of the exposed curve of skin beneath your mouth, you kiss and suck with lax intent until Wonwoo tips his chin up and gives a silent green light.
A heavy hand drags down his front, nails scratching bluntly through the fabric until it can slip beneath the waistband of his sweats and the curve of his cock sits pretty in your palm. Commando for convenience and comfort. More the latter because there’s no shot in hell he’s been getting laid lately.
His breath is sticky in his throat, vibrating beneath your teeth from thin pants as you work him through a loose fist. “Can I?”
“Yeah,” he huffs. “Yes.”
Slouching down, your head rests on his stomach, sweatpants bunched around his thighs. The first lick sends his hips up in search of more and you eagerly supply the soft suction of your mouth; lips catching around the flared head. A hand on the back of your skull keeps your hair from interfering as he plumps against your tongue. 
Eagerness fails to penetrate this moment slowed down by the greater need to drag this out. To savor every second because who knows when you’ll both stop being petty enough to just enjoy one another’s presence again.
“Might cum—fuck— don’t stop,” he grunts.
With the sun filling the room even more you’re running out of time, the warmth growing to leave sweat at the small of your back. He pushes harder into the curve of your throat and you let him, gagging wet with a lewd mix of spit and pre-cum that has you both moaning at the choked sound. Jaw slack, Wonwoo fucks your mouth with slow ruts; stomach tightening and the hand in your hair fisting tight enough you moan.
“Shit, babe—c-cumming,” he whines with a pathetic groan you’d make fun of him for later but all you can think about is the thick taste of cum and if there’s enough time for some attention between your own legs before life becomes unignorable. Not enough time for a real fuck but Wonwoo has a few tricks up his sleeve that promise satisfaction.
You bounce back down next to him and Wonwoo pounces, rolling on top of you, thing between your spread legs. He doesn’t shy away from your tongue against his teeth, dips a thumb beneath your chin and slips his tongue right along with it, sucks your lips until the swell, backing off only to bunch your shirt up. Lazy drags of his mouth on yours – not the ‘I need you’ kisses after a late night but the ‘I miss you’ ones after weeks of passive aggressive silence.
He licks down your front, goosebumps blooming from the draft as he sucks a nipple until you arch and twist a hand in his hair. You give a lax stretch and sigh while his hand slips beneath the edge of your panties.
Taking the morning for what it is, you fall into the motions until the blare of the alarm clock signals the beginning of the end.
You push away and swipe blindly at the night stand to make it stop but Wonwoo has other plans. 
He pins your hips down, tongue flat to the crotch of your underwear with a pant. “Ignore it.”
“What?” You look at him and find tired eyes watching back from over the edge of your wrinkled shirt. His hair is a mess, stuck to the side of his head from sleep and your eager hands and all you want to do is comb the tangles out while he pulls your strings like a puppet master.
But you can’t.
“We’ve got class,” you gasp through a hot kiss on your clit.
A groggy groan of, “skip,” vibrates on your skin.
Fingers curling in the sheets, you grasp for disagreement only to find a moan as he pulls your hips closer and works a finger where you need it most.
“We can’t.”
“We can,” Wonwoo grunts, focusing on peppering greedy kisses to the sensitive insides of your thighs. “We’ve been early every time this semester.”
The hand not curling in your guts runs down the back of your calf, bending until it hooks over his shoulder.
“Fuck, Wonu,” you whine over the crude sounds of his mouth. You want to. God, do you want to. But you open your eyes again and they land on the stack of exams on your desk. Ungraded. Because Wonwoo said you could do them this morning. And now he wants you to skip class despite how important it is. 
You close your legs only for Wonwoo to take it as a challenge, pinning your hips in place and celebrating his perceived victory with a throaty moan as he rocks against the bed.
“Stop.”
He pulls back, mouth wet and brows furrowed. “Huh?”
The alarm on your phone pings again. Swiftly silenced this time as you roll out from beneath him and land beside the mattress on unsteady feet. “We can’t skip. We have to give exams back.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” he argues, flopping down into the warmth you left vacant.
The room is too bright, a clear sign your morning routine is behind. “You think now is the time to start slacking off?”
“It’s not slacking off.” Wonwoo snags his glasses. He looks more annoyed with them. “It’s a break. You clearly need one.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Just forget it. I’m not arguing with you about stupid shit.”
“And what's stupid shit? The job we signed up for? With the professor who controls our futures?”
Wonwoo fixes his pants and rolls out of bed. On the opposite side. As far away from you as possible. “Whatever.”
“Fine.”
“Fine!”
“Good!”
“Good!”
You slam the bathroom door shut with finality. When you come back out, any trace of Wonwoo is long gone.
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There aren’t many people in class. A benefit of Halloweekend is the partying starts Wednesday and doesn’t stop until the following week. Even with last night's rain plenty of students are battling hangovers which leaves a third of the usual lecture attendance to witness you and Wonwoo go head to head while Dr. Wagner sits at home with a mysterious illness she announced in an email three minutes after nine AM.
The few that are there snag their papers, lips curled in disgust at the plethora of red ink spilled on white pages. Their own faults for not paying attention during lecture but maybe the scarlet gashes were a little dramatic. Wonwoo’s jaw is tight, pointedly ignoring you except to hand exams over that someone is waiting for with dread in their eyes. 
You could’ve skipped. It wouldn’t even count as skipping because class is canceled and there’s no award for hauling ass at the crack of dawn when your advisor isn’t even here to see it. You could be tucked away in your apartment with him under your skin; firmly in the place between dreams and waking where you liked him best, nothing but warm skin and rough hands with his lips on your hairline and your head burrowed in his chest. 
There are too many witnesses to just drop the act and wrap your arms around him from behind until he gives in. Apologize for the stupid shit he rightfully called you out on. But as your courage grows with each student’s exit, Wonwoo makes to leave before you can make use of it. 
Barely an hour of fighting and it already feels like an eternity.
“Hey,” you call.
He freezes by one of the desks near the back of the room, like he’s shocked you’re even there in the first place. But he doesn’t turn around; just tilts his head so you know he’s listening even if he doesn’t want to.
“Sorry about this morning. I-I think the stress is getting to me.”
And the fact that I can’t be mad at anyone besides the universe for this incredibly shitty situation. And I miss you. Even when you’re right next to me.
“Okay.”
“That’s it?” you fidget with the strap of your bag; a million pounds heavier even without the weight of ungraded tests that Wonwoo snatched before you could divide the remaining work.
He turns around, eying you with an exasperated look. “What else should I say? You called me a slack off and implied I don’t do my job.”
“I didn’t,” you argue but it’s salt in the wound because—
“You did.”
“But—”
“It’s fine. I’ll finish grading the exams over the weekend.”
And then you're alone.
You’re alone in the study room you both usually occupy to work on the Nanochemistry project due at the end of term. The shared document has updates, the blink of his cursor mocking your from wherever he hunkered down. Away from you. The temptation to type ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again disappears once he logs out barely a minute after you logged on.
You’re alone at the circulation desk of the library through your shift, head whipping around to every squeak and cough only to find someone who isn’t Wonwoo. There’s an email from him, to Dr. Wagner with you CC’ed, about class averages and exam questions that should be thrown out.
You walk home alone. Other students in various states of dress and intoxication crowd the sidewalks, a few you recognize but they feel a million miles away.
Alone in your apartment, the two mugs from last night clean in the sink.
The good part of being alone is when you start crying, no one is there to see.
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It’s near midnight and the chill of the breeze whipping down the street bites at your exposed skin. Already the should-be-condemned frat house pulses with life, the promise of a long night ahead thrumming through the symphony of drunk screams and music.
It’s not unusual for you to attend frat parties. Wonwoo’s favor guarantees free booze and a perch at the top of the staircase where underclassmen are barred from entering. But you’ll settle for watching drunk underclassman stumbling over the front lawn from one of the couches on the front porch (which are so broken in, no one sinks into the cushions – they just fall straight down until the worn springs catch them) because the inside of the house is too hot, and too crowded, and far too loud. 
A hail Mary apology is the only thing on your mind. Yesterday had been the nastiest spat in recent history between you two; notwithstanding sophomore year when Jeonghan asked you for tutoring and Wonwoo insisted on helping. “Helping” meant cutting off every question Jeonghan dared ask with a series of snorts and huffs until you left and refused to talk to him for a week.
He’d apologized in the most Wonwoo fashion – completing your Thermodynamics assignments for the rest of the semester and before going down on you until you threatened to kick him in the head through sensitive sobs.
Wonwoo is here – somewhere. Shuffling up the past, past the line of eager party goers looking for a way in, you scan the front porch, he’s not in his usual waiting spot to whisk you upstairs where the older members hang out with better drinks and better music. Not that he would be. He doesn’t even know you considered coming to this.
Instead, poor Chan, dressed in yellow and black stripes, mans the door with pilot Jihoon by his side.
“Jihoon,” you greet, before looking at the younger man. “Speed bump.”
Chan mumbles something under his breath but lays on the ground regardless. When Wonwoo went through the same hazing you only got a few chances to enjoy the ridiculousness before he dragged you upstairs and shut you up himself.
“Can you not torment the kids?” Jihoon grunts.
“I could. But, where’s the fun in that?” 
“Your boyfriend is inside. If you see Jun, tell him it’s his turn to watch the door.”
“Got it.”
Stepping over the underclassman still laying on the ground, you head inside and straight for the packed kitchen to get a drink. There’s barely any space between the hoard of bodies, forcing you to shuffle forward everytime there's a gap in the crowd; but it’s more like swimming against a rip tide. 
It’s difficult to see with nothing but a few strobe lights and some strings of Christmas lights to clear the dark. One glance up towards the upper landing of the staircase is all it takes to find him right next to Mingyu. Matching costume, two bean poles standing out from the crowd of shorter men. Mingyu makes a brief nod in your direction but before you can see Wonwoo turn you’re off into the kitchen.
It’s an even tighter fit in here. A pledge pours drinks from a cooler, for a brief second you’re tempted to indulge. The last time you did, freshman year, you ended up crying in Wonwoo’s room mid-hookup. You scan the slim pickings and settle on an unopened beer. The shots you took while getting ready are already catching up.
Forced between anxious isolation and drinking, a few of your friends come up and briefly make conversation. You feign interest, eying over their heads for a familiar mop of dark hair without success.
A few guys stop to compliment your costume. They give themselves away in glazed heavily lidded stares, single minded focus on your legs. They ask what your major is, boast their status as pledges to your disinterested grimace, and move on when you finally put them out of their misery and fib about your “boyfriend” being “president or something” but “I don’t pay attention to those things,” and they all disappear significantly paler than when they first appeared.
You bite the bullet of your pride and turn to leave, only to find Wonwoo barely an inch away.
His eyes burn over your figure, the short toga covering just enough for you to avoid public indecency. Good. It’s the entire reason you wore this stupid costume in the first place. He’s a horny loser for nerdy shit and this is the best thing you could’ve worn other than one of those video game character costumes forcing your boobs in your throat and leaving you at serious risk for public indecency.
It’s not the first time you’ve wrapped yourself in barely enough fabric to constitute an outfit for the sake of his forgiveness and it probably won’t be the last.
Wonwoo pins you to the counter with his hips, hands bracketing your figure on either side. The green hat with an ‘L’ is lopsided on his head but at least he didn’t wear the fake mustache. “So, what is your costume?” he hums into the space just below your ear with a kiss.
“Guess.” You tilt your chin, cocky.
“And if I get it right?” he asks, lips at your ear.
Heart pound, you ditch the beer and reach for his hips with purpose. “Whatever you want.”
“Dangerous words.”
“Think of it as my apology for being a huge bitch yesterday.” 
He sighs into your neck, arms tight around your waist in a loose semblance of a hug. It’s a farce. Your ass meets the counter with minor effort and Wonwoo claims the space between your legs before you can pretend to object.
He still hasn’t kissed you.
You want more than kisses. You want to feel him, all of him. Want to drag him to the living room serving as a makeshift dance floor and sink into the heat of his body pressed flat against your own for everyone to see. You want to pull him into that closet off the main hall, familiar from that hot night of freshman year when a drunk make out turned into a timid fingering and eventually Wonwoo handing over his first time on a silver platter. Or even run back to your apartment, pluck through the leftover Halloween candy you bought on discount and watch whatever horror movie has become his recent obsession. You just want him.
“Mingyu thought you were Socrates.”
Pressed this close on the sticky counter, his body is the only thing protecting what little of your dignity is left. Even then, there's enough of the slippery warmth of alcohol to tempt you into rutting against him right here for those stupid pledges to see. “Mingyu is an idiot.”
“Clearly,” he chuckles. “The rubber chicken gave it away.”
You shake it at eye level. “Behold, man.”
“Lame,” his kissing gets bold down the shaft of your neck, teeth scraping your collarbone.
“Oh please, I feel your boner.”
He doesn’t resist you when you nuzzle along the bare parts of his neck, a tease of soft kissing usually reserved for quiet moments tucked away in your apartment. Even in the chaos of the party, body heat turning the air uncomfortably warm, you crave more of his closeness. 
His hands feel nice on your legs. None of the timid gentleness of years prior when he’d touch you like it’d burn if he wanted it too much; trailing higher and higher but never under the short hem of the bedsheet turned dress. His fingers flex into the muscle at the outside of your thigh, hook behind your knees and drag you to the edge of the counter. 
You're sweating through your own skin when he kisses you. 
The need in your gut blooms at full force. Your mouth loosens, welcoming his tongue and teeth and whatever else he’s generous enough to give while you tug at the loose fabric around his hips to force more close proximity; the zipper of his pants is hot against your core and if you fucked him right here it wouldn’t look that different than the PG-13 make out happening right now. 
“Wanna show me your room?” You blink like some moony eyed freshman, glassy, pupils blown from vivid images of all the possibilities in the solitude upstairs. Wonwoo is fine with the game of whatever your apology entails even if it means you throw cheesy lines like that.
He ushers you off the counter, flat to your back as he pushes through the crowd with you ahead. Even in a drunken haze people part out of his way because of the mastery of resting bitch face only he seems to have despite the complaint putty that lies behind it. A private smile splits your lips. He can’t be that mad. Not with how he pulls you closer, in the protective way he so often does in the buzz of a single minded crowd with more alcohol in their veins than blood. 
Mingyu is standing on the landing. Girls in scraps of fabric eye him up and down, even in his stupid costume with the mustache but he ignores them in favor of pouting straight into a red cup.
“Why is your boyfriend moping?” 
“Fuck if I know.” Wonwoo focuses on sucking another bruise on your neck like no one's watching. 
You’re loose enough not to care about Mingyu’s annoyance as Wonwoo ushers you by. “Cheer up buttercup, I’m sure there’s a Peach here into charity fucks!” 
It’s meant to be encouraging, but Mingyu looks like he’s torn between strangling you and throwing himself over the banister.
Maybe you did lie about being Wonwoo’s girlfriend, but he is president and his room is the biggest and furthest away from chaos. Up on the top floor where the music isn’t as loud and the only people on this floor are other members and their guests for the night.
Wonwoo pushes you inside, kicking the door shut loud enough you wince before crowding you against the wood. You throw his hat away somewhere into the darkness, hand twisted in his hair as he kisses you. Sloppy and gross until he rocks into the softness of your stomach, gasoline on the flame.
“Turn around.”
He barely gives you enough space to do so, pressing you flat once again, cheek squished to the door and a rough pull at your waist. 
“If you’re thinking about touching my asshole, don’t. I have shit to do tomorrow,” you warn. 
On the other side of the door you hear footsteps but they pass by without stopping.
“Noted, but not what I’m going for,” he jokes. 
Your skirt flips up and a draft against the damp crotch of your panties sends a tremor straight through your core. “Share with the class.”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I’m shaking in my toga.”
“And you call me a loser.”
“I can call you some other things,” you grit, pushing back into the heat of his covered cock. “They aren’t as nice though.”
“Yeah, yeah. Take your panties off.” 
He’s a little bit of a freak. Sometimes he enjoys fucking you in nothing but your underwear and others he wants you in everything but. Maybe because of how this entire thing started; when you wouldn’t even take your bra off and he survived on the barest flash of nipple.
The flimsy soiled fabric barely passes your knees before he’s on you again, easily tempted by the arch of your spine. You hum content as he presses a finger into your cunt, then two. His other hand forces the neckline of your dress down and lo-and-behold your lack of bra delights like you knew it would.
Whatever bright idea that fluttered in Wonwoo’s brain is forgotten as he spins you back around for an eyeful of naked skin; a mouthful of your chest and your leg hooked around his hip for a pathetic dry hump into the heel of his hand.
“Oh, fuck,” you moan with extra emphasis and a caved stomach because there’s teeth and he makes it hurt. “Kiss me.”
Another rut into your thigh and his teeth are back at your bottom lip. It’s not exactly what you anticipated when you showed up tonight but there are far worse places than having a doorknob in your back while Wonwoo leaves a hickey below your ear; a perfectly good bed ten feet away but neither of you can be bothered to move much more than forcing Wonwoo’s pants down enough his cock leaks in your grip, head nestled at your entrance.
You surprise him by sinking to your knees. Head tipped back against the door, you tilt your mouth open to welcome him on your tongue. Wonwoo stares down at you; tits out, hand between your legs as you suck his cock in quick motions until he takes over and fucks into the curve of your throat. 
“Holy s-shit,” he hisses and you flatten your tongue to help him along. It feels good; seeing him reduced to so little just from the wet suck of your mouth on him. 
A choked gag forces Wonwoo back into his body, hips curving away so you can swallow air before leaving a sloppy kiss on the tip. Seizing him in a tight grip, you use the spit to jerk him off until he cringes with another pathetic moan. 
Someone giggles in the hallway, close enough you both hear. They’re far enough away you can still whisper to Wonwoo. “Remember that time we fucked in here last year?” 
“When you almost got us killed?”
Last year, at the same party, when you showed up in a skin tight Shego costume, Wonwoo pulled you to the only available room: Seungcheol’s. It’d been hot. Fucking when you aren’t supposed to, having Seungcheol pound at the door while Wonwoo came down your throat (no condoms and no hope to clean up).
“Do it again.”
His hand creeps into a loose collar around the base of your throat. You keep rubbing between your legs, working up a slick slide until your nails dig into the skin of his thighs.
“Really?” There’s no need for muffling the noise when it's his room and the only people at risk of hearing anything have done far worse. He pulls you to your feet, forces your cheek against the door and slides right behind you. Like he was made for you.
“Choke me,” you gasp before digging into the sick part of your brain that likes seeing him strung out, extra breathy just to see his eyes go wide. “Sir.”
Your skin sticks to the door, shamefully squeezed as he drags his cock through the mess of your pussy. “You can’t just say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because—”
“Because what?” you goad. “Gonna punish me?”
“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Show up wearing this,” he grits, tugging at the white fabric bunched around your waist, using the hand on your throat to squeeze your cheeks tight with authority you drool for.  “Asking to be choked and now you probably want me to spank you and call you a good girl.”
You grunt through the raw thrust at your gut, sending your head back from sheer enthusiasm. “N–not my fault you fuck me so good.” 
Wonwoo almost can’t control himself, hearing nothing but praise fall from your mouth as he fucks you limp against the door. “God.”
Someone screams, “Leave room for Jesus!” from the other side of the door and you almost rip it open to kill them if Wonwoo wasn’t dragging you to the bed. 
He folds you onto your front, both standing at the foot of the bed. A deep roll of his hips and you’re filled completely. 
“O-oh, fuck me,” you moan, uncaring if the idiot outside the door is still listening. Wonwoo has a hell of a hand and puts it to use against the curve of your ass. The coil in your gut pulls taunt as he delivers one after another.
He fucks deeper, a the hand not burn against your bottom between your shoulders. “You look so good— ah —taking my cock like this.” His voice waivers with the same stunted rhythm of his hips. 
“W-want,” you choke on spit, drooling into the comforter. “Wanna taste you.”
The animalist need to suck both your flavors off his cock nearly sends you into a fit but Wonwoo’s there, hooking his hand back around the front of your neck with a subtle squeeze. You want the stupid dress off, you want Wonwoo’s clothes off, you want to fuck him where there’s no one around to catcall in the hallway like twelve year old boys. Want. Want. Want.
What you get is enough pressure from his fingers that your mind blanks. Wonwoo gets a tight enough squeeze on his cock that he’s forced to a grinding halt. 
Then his rhythm goes deeper, harder. Course curls against the resistance of your ass until you almost collapse against the edge of the bed. His cock hits that spot like it was made for your body. “Touch yourself.”
You comply without further command. You’re wet, soaked, arousal smeared down your thighs from Wonwoo’s treatment. Your fingers bump against his length as you match the pace of his strokes. “Fuck, Wonwoo — hmmm.” 
“Tell me how it feels,” he gasps like it’s his first breath in hours.
“Wet, so wet,” you croon, arching harder, joints locking. “Gonna cum. Oh my god.”
He reaches low, grabbing your hand from between your thighs and pulling it to his mouth for a taste. His tongue slides between your digits, liquid slick with a soft suction your crave on your clit. 
“Beg for it.” Wonwoo bites your shoulder hard enough you cry. 
Stuffing your hand back between your legs, you play with your clit clumsily. Until pink crowds the edge of your vision and it hurts. “Please, please! I need—Want it. Wanna come for you. Please, sir.”
Wonwoo strains to hear your pleas over the clap of bodies. He’s worked you near the middle of the bed, practically laying on top of you as he fucks in quick succession. 
“Harder, fuck me,” you demand. “Yes, yes, y–yes!”
If you were on top you’d fall straight off, jerking tightly under Wonwoo’s weight, turning your face to greet his tongue between your teeth and mewling sensitivity. He doesn’t show mercy, continuing to fuck you through the worst of it.
“Holy shit,” you whimper, head throbbing. Wonwoo forces you back on your knees and you fight through sore muscles and sensitivity to preen under the weight behind his hips. 
“Can I come in you?” he asks in a shivery breath.
You nod with closed eyes, tugging the hand around your throat to your lips and sucking his fingers like it’s a cock. He finishes with a choked breath, flooding your insides with sticky warmth you’ve never gotten used to in all the months you’ve fucked without condoms. 
His breath fans against the nape of your neck, another swivel of his hips from the sensitivity. Your walls squeeze as Wonwoo pulls away. 
You roll onto your back with a bounce, Wonwoo jostling you when he joins. Shoulder to shoulder, you stare up at the ceiling while catching your breath. “Do you think you’ll pop a boner when your students call you a sir next year?”
Wonwoo heaves a long breath, amusement in his voice. “I come inside you and that's the first thing you think of?”
Immediately you regret the joke. Since Dr. Wagner’s announcement weeks ago neither of you had broached on the topic of what happens after graduation. Mostly from fear. But also because it’s a long discussion you’re not exactly sure what you want out of.
“Answer the question.”
“I hope not.”
The bed shifts beneath your knees as you crowd over Wonwoo, laying with his arms behind him to keep from sinking flat. The tired lines of his face look deeper in the lamp light. He’s nothing more than a big softie that wants to cuddle half naked in his bed while you play with his hair until sleep finds its place.
“It’s our last Halloween party.”
“Wow, just like old times,” you snort. “Should I start crying? Then it’ll be just like freshman year all over.”
Wonwoo laughs, his hand snatching yours and lacing your fingers together. “You wore a bra and bunny ears freshman year so if you’re gonna whip that out too – by all means.”
“God, we were so lame,” you announce matter of factly. Crying in lingerie and animal ears in one of the supply closets downstairs all because—
“Don’t rope me into that, miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’.” Wonwoo rolls on top of you, hoping to silence whatever argument bubbling in response with a teasing press of his lips. You're still sticky with sweat and spit and cum, nipples and pussy out and the thought of his dick, limp against your thigh, makes you sensitive all over.
“That’s former miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’,” you trail off into his mouth. “And you’re one to talk. Remember the time you cried about how happy you were that we were friends.”
He bites your lip in retaliation. “I didn’t.”
“You did. I have the video from Mingyu.”
“I thought he was an idiot.”
“He is but he’s good for blackmail.”
You might consider staying the night if he keeps tracing his nose along the arch of your collarbone. But a shrill giggle and some pornographic moans ring through the walls of the neighboring room. Not the side Seungkwan occupies. Hoshi’s. And it’s only the start.
“We can’t sleep here.”
Wonwoo collapses, tugging you with him. “I can’t ditch again, I’m on pledge duty.”
“You’re hiding in your room with me.”
“Okay, technically I’m on pledge duty.”
He wouldn’t stay here if he wasn’t required. Wonwoo hates party nights, especially Halloween. Too many variables requiring all hands on deck; too many needy people demanding his presence for some issue that could’ve been handled if they used their brain to think farther than the tip of their nose. Rarely, if ever, does he sleep in his own bed when you have a perfectly good one tucked away in a private apartment without thirty other men tripping over each other. 
“Well, I’m not sleeping with that.” On cue, another whimper, clearly a man’s, breaks through the tentative silence. Are they fuck against the shared wall?
Wonwoo sighs, scrubbing his face before moving for his phone. “I’ll send one of the kids to walk you.”
“Wow, a pledge escort. How thoughtful,” you sneer.
He huffs again, unwilling to start a fight that’ll leave neither of you satisfied. “Text me when you get home.”
You don’t.
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There is an unspoken habit between you and Wonwoo that Sunday mornings are spent at the only reasonably priced coffee shop just near your apartment. A charming hole in the wall, with hanging shelves displaying layers of tchotchkes, paintings lining whatever free space between them, and wobbly tables with equally unbalanced chairs. It’s always packed because the coffee is decent and they have outlets. After last night, you hope he’s too exhausted to even think about showing up.
Mugs click against dark lacquered tables, the dull murmur of conversation churns over the music swelling softly through the speakers. The smell of pastries and espresso wake you enough to slide into a vacant table in the corner and set to work. 
Or you would’ve if someone didn’t sit down first.
“Oh.”
Wonwoo already has a mug and a little brown bag as he looks up at where you stand dumbly.
“I can just go…sit somewhere else…” You turn to leave, except there are no other tables. Couples and groups claim every single seat except the one across from Wonwoo.
“Why would you do that?”
“I don’t know, probably because I’m mad at you.”
He unpacks his laptop, shaking his head. “You’re not mad at me.”
“Yes, I am,” you emphasize. 
“You’re a bad liar.”
Neither of you are good at lying. Even worse at fighting. Incapable of committing to real anger when it takes all your energy to stand up straight and not fall asleep in a pile of ungraded papers and half finished assignments. Besides, you're only pouting because he passed up a night at your place to clean up pledge vomit. 
You can’t tame the annoyed grin cracking your face.  “Fine, I’m not that mad at you. Buy my forgiveness in the form of coffee.”
“Too much caffeine will kill you.”
“I can only hope,” you sigh, arms cradling your head against the hard wood of the table while he joins the queue at the register.
Wonwoo orders your drink and a cheesy pastry the size of your head, the smell of greasy carbs first thing in the morning softening the ice in your veins. He knows your weaknesses too well. 
“Is this penance?” 
“Something like that.” He tears the crispiest corner off and pops it into his mouth.
“Did you look at the study guide for Calc yet?”
Two hours later you approach the counter for a second round of coffee and snag one of the jammy tarts Wonwoo likes but rarely buys for himself. Whatever chaffs between you two melts under the constant stream of note checking; Wonwoo’s hand on your knee under the table helps too. 
“If I look at this anymore, I’ll run into traffic.”
“We’ve got the Nano project that needs some work,” you suggest. 
He stretches wide, a sliver of skin visible between the hem of his sweater and the band of sweat pants. “I’ve got practice in an hour. We can do it tonight when I’m done.”
You try not to stare and instead return to focusing on the screen of your laptop burning your retinas.“I’m tutoring Seungkwan.”
“After?”
“He’s gonna be a bitch and the last thing I wanna do is look at more school stuff.”
“Then no school stuff,” he decrees with finality. “I’ll bring mushroom pad thai from that place on Market.”
“Are you trying to bribe your way in?”
“Is it working?”
You hum a dismissal but watch him through your lashes. He looks good – washed in late afternoon glow, hair a mess with glasses and a sweater that hangs off his shoulders. It all screams ‘drag me to bed and nap the rest of the day’ which is trouble for you because you still want to be mad at him if only to see how fair he’s willing to go for your forgiveness.
“We can watch Yellowjackets,” he barters, packing his bag.
Another group eyes your table with hope to claim it the second it’s available. Sadly, your ass is firmly planted for the rest of the afternoon. With or without Wonwoo.
“You’re really trying to butter me up, aren’t you?”
“I cannot sleep in that house,” he deadpans. “Please take mercy.”
“Oh, so you’re just using me for a place to sleep. Even after I wore that stupid Halloween costume?”
He pauses, eyes glazing like it’s a distant memory and not less than twenty four hours ago. “You looked hot.”
“You made that pretty clear.”
“Anyway, I’ll come over after practice. You can bitch about Seungkwan until you pass out.”
“Fine, but if there is no pad thai then don’t come.”
“Whatever my woman demands,” he snorts, dropping a kiss to your lips before turning towards the door.
Two hours and another coffee later, Seungkwan occupies Wonwoo’s abandoned chair. There’s no reason for him to be taking an intro chem class as a Creative Writing major other than the fact he’s a bit of a masochist. He’s not half bad at it and doesn’t really need any tutoring but you get paid for showing up even if it’s complete silence as you pick your nails until he needs something.
You’re marking through his latest attempt when he finally speaks up, “You're dating Wonwoo, right?”
Red pen scratches through the edge of the paper. “What?”
“You and Wonwoo.”
What is the absolute configuration of the two carbon atoms in this compound? More red ink.
“What about me and Wonwoo?”
Seungkwan rolls his eyes with exasperation, like you’re on the outs of some obvious joke. “Dating.”
If an alkene has 24 hydrogen atoms, how many carbon atoms does it contain? Another X.
“No.”
“Oh, I thought—”
“We’re just friends.”
When 10 g of 90% pure lime stone is heated completely, the volume (in litres) of is liberated at STP is… Wrong, again. Which makes no sense because Seungkwan is good at this level. He’s fucking with you on purpose.
“Huh,” he comments, grabbing the worksheet back from your claws.
“‘Huh’ what?”
“I heard a rumor he had a girlfriend last night, that’s all.”
It's not the first time someone assumed there's more between you and Wonwoo then there actually is, your fib last night clearly fanned the flames of even more speculation. But neither of you date; not enough time, willpower, or patience to entertain someone around packed schedules. If you and Wonwoo didn’t have the same life within the chemistry department then you’d never see each other. It’s convenient as it can possibly be. 
Maybe at one point there was. Summer of sophomore year when he studied abroad in Spain and the usual substance of correspondence morphed from memes and jokes to something softer; I miss you’s and you’d like it here’s. Late night phone calls that lasted hours, refusing to hang up first until one of you fell asleep and the other finally canceled the call. 
But the opportunity to tip over the edge came and went without coalescing into whatever was on the other side. 
Seungkwan can pretend it’s an innocent suggestion but he stares you down until you crack with your own curiosity. “Who told you that?”
“Some pledges said they accidentally hit on his girlfriend. I don't even think he knows another girl beside you. Plus you were at the party last night.”
Stupid fuckers, you mutter under your breath. “We’re not dating.”
“But you guys are always together.”
“We work together. You and Vernon are always together, are you two fucking?”
“My room is next to his and it doesn’t sound like work to me.”
“How does me failing you sound?” you spit. 
Seungkwan doesn't so much as flinch at the threat but returns to the practice sheet with a smile nonetheless. 
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Typically, fall break is spent hidden away in a pile of blankets with you and Wonwoo alternating movie choices throughout the weekend. Dead Poets Society (him), When Harry Met Sally (you), Over the Garden Wall (him), Fantastic Mr Fox (you), and so on and so on.
This year, you have a strong feeling Dr. Wagner’s favorite pastime is seeing her TAs squirm. It’s the only explanation for the unique brand of humiliation she subjects you and Wonwoo to. Tonight, Friday and technically your first night off for the long weekend, she decides to engage in a new sort of torture. A fancy dinner that neither of you could ever hope to afford, and even as her treat, you still eye the menu prices nervously. 
But Dr. Collins sits across the table, in the flesh, so you pull out the skills you learned in the ridiculous theater class you took freshman year to “diversify” your transcript and smile through the anxiety. 
Wonwoo does a little better; in a button up you’ve only seen him wear a handful of times when his usual wardrobe is sweatshirts and free shirts from campus events, he looks more comfortable than you feel.
“Jill, tells me you both work on Epitranscriptomic mapping in her lab?” Dr. Collins asks after another sip of his drink. Two whiskeys at dinner. 
It’s not an official interview. Not anything close to it, according to your advisor. Nothing is set in stone, even if Dr. Collins laughs at Wonwoo’s awkward jokes and nods enthusiastically to your stories about working in the library (he also worked in the library in undergrad, but used it to nap more than actually work). But it feels like a step in the right direction. 
“Yes, sir.” Wonwoo and you nod in tandem.
Dr. Wagner’s research focuses on how different RNA modifications vary across various cell types and states. It’s high level stuff that no one but Wonwoo understands when you rant about the broken Cellraft machine. And his complaints about NovaSec’s constant crashes that leave him without work fall on deaf ears except when they’re directed at you. 
Half the reason you two started speaking during orientation is because the overly enthusiastic intern asked what people were looking forward to the most during school. You and Wonwoo were the only ones who seemed to think she meant school-related and not where to buy a fake ID. Apparently, the best person to get a fake ID from was a junior in Dr. Wagner’s lab that year. Go figure.
“I’ve seen you two listed down the line as co-authors,” he nods. 
The waiter brings dessert, spiced toffee cakes and ice cream. You’re starving but the knot in your stomach from when you sat down is even tighter and all you can do is pick at the plate.
“Well, Y/N does a lot of the troubleshooting for the RNA degradation issues,” Wonwoo shares. 
Your face heats at the unexpected but not undeserved compliment. Dr. Wagner’s work isn’t cheap and the thought of wasting valuable money, money that could line the pocket of an extra set of hands, forced you to run a tight ship. The other researchers in her lab could say what they wanted behind your back but Dr. Wagner nods with fondness and you try not to preen.
“We’d be a mess if it wasn’t for her,” Dr. Wagner agrees. “The lab techs should write her a card.”
Not wanting to leave him out, you shoot a look to your left where Wonwoo pulls at the napkin in his lap. “Wonwoo is the one that made sure the parameters made sense for the last publication.”
“Also true.” Dr. Wagner smiles. “I told you, Harry, they’re my best students. Excel a mile past my TAs last year. They work together exceptionally well. If I could keep them both for next year, I would.” She says it with finality. There might very well be an opportunity to stay here and continue in her lab, even if your ambition has outgrown the place you’ve called home for four years.
The table is cleared, your plate full of mashed cake and melted ice cream with not a single bite missing. You’re exhausted. Mentally, emotionally; physically from the three all nighters you’ve pulled this week. There’d be an earful from Wonwoo about the dangers of sleep deprivation (hypocrite) but he looks like he’s seen a ghost tonight and won’t sleep himself.
Dr. Collins glances at his watch with a muffled yawn, “My, my! Look at the time! My apologies I didn't mean to keep us all out so late. I know you two probably have far more interesting things to be doing than spending the evening with a couple old timers like us.” He winks at Dr. Wagner, who rolls her eyes and hands the check back to the waiter who can’t be more than nineteen. “It looks like I’ll have some tough decisions to make in the upcoming weeks. Best of luck to the both of you.”
Hands shakes all around, and an awkward shuffle at the door and Dr. Collins and Dr. Wagner disappear into the night, leaving you and Wonwoo alone on the long walk back to campus.
You don’t beeline to your apartment for a debrief. Or even to ignore the obvious awkwardness cracking between. A bench to the side of the campus green is where you find yourselves, across from the fountain that upholds the tradition of drunken seniors taking a dip during finals when they’ve given up. 
You want to drown in it.
“Wonwoo,” you whisper. “What happens if one of us doesn't get in?”
“I–I don’t know.” He peers down at you with what you think is grief and the white noise that follows his quiet admission chokes painfully. There’s no plan B for something like this
If you got in, then Wonwoo did too. An unfounded assumption that wherever you went he’d be there too, based on almost four years of something between you. Too much to be friendship but too scared to call it something else. Something more. All the stereotypical college firsts had been with him or witnessed by him, you assumed grad school would be the same.
But it can’t be.
“Then we should end this.”
The words are out like shaken champagne, a dramatic explosion you can’t take back; a mess in the slimmest inches of space between your bodies on the bench in the freezing air.
“What?” he says.
You can’t swallow back down the idea. Wonwoo won’t let you. Maybe you don’t want to. You stare at the fountain across the green with a twitch in your jaw. 
“One of us is gonna move to Boston and the other is gonna have to figure it out and I’d rather not hate you or you hate me when it happens.”
You won’t take it back but you won’t look at him either. 
“You think I’d hate you?” 
He’s staring at you. You can feel the burn of his gaze on your cheek where embarrassment heats as well.
“I would.” You ignore the break in your voice at the complete lie. “I’d hate it if you got in and I didn’t. Even though you deserve it and I couldn’t be mad about it. I’d hate it. All I’ve wanted since freshman year is to go there, and I won’t ruin it for you just because I can’t have it.”
For a painstaking moment, he doesn’t say anything. His shoulders are still rigid and he props his weight into his knees, head bowed so you can’t even see his face in the stark street light. He doesn’t do anything until you do, until you slump with utter defeat.
“Fine.”
“Fine?” Your voice pinches in your throat.
“What else is there? You’ve already decided for the both of us. That stupid fucking program matters more to you than—”
You heat close to explosion.“It’s not stu—”
Wonwoo rushes off the bench. “It is! It is because we’ve been dating for the past three years but you won’t even fucking admit it! You’ll tell some stupid pledge I’m your boyfriend but everytime I think we’ve worked it out – that you’re finally ready to talk about it – you pretend nothing is happening.”
“That wasn’t—” you shake your head.
“It’s fine. I’ll get over it.” 
You move quicker than he does and find his hand, but he doesn’t want to stay and you can’t stop him from leaving. “Wonwoo.” 
“Stop.” His voice is stoic, whatever emotions previously controlling him locked up tight behind faux dismissal. “Just…stop.” 
If you’re going to lie then the smallest favor you can do is obey his command. You hide your face in your hands, cheeks hot and eyes stinging. Because if you look at him then you’ll break into a million pieces. You’d admit to lying to his face; that you could so much as entertain the idea of hating him.
Wonwoo waits but you say nothing. No argument, no final comment. 
When you finally look up he’s far enough down the sidewalk that the pathetic croak of his name is unheard.
Endpoint: a critical moment in a chemical process where a specific change indicates that the reaction is complete. 
Two days later, when you finally get the balls to call Wonwoo and apologize, to tell him he’s right and that you’re an absolute idiot, he’s already blocked your number.
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In a game of passive aggressive pettiness, Wonwoo takes gold.
He won’t talk to you outside of class and lab hours. Even then, he refuses to look at you; talks straight around you. Any form of correspondence you receive has Dr. Wagner’s name attached and anything you send without it is loudly ignored. 
Other people notice too.
In study hours, the students notice, whisper to each other when Wonwoo snubs your attempt to discuss a batch of graded homework in favor of focusing his attention on a cowering freshman who looks like he might piss himself when Wonwoo calls him by name. All the others bury their heads in their textbooks in fear he’ll pick them next.
In Nano, when he shows up just in the nick of time to leave his self-assigned seat next to you empty, and instead sitting next to the door. You feel the eyes on you, hair standing on end at the back of your neck when Dr. Lim stutters through his intro with wide eyes at the scene.
Seungkwan shows up to tutoring significantly less interested in your love life. Or he pretends he isn’t. He doesn’t ask outright and there’s pity in his eyes, thick enough you want to burst into the tears you’ve waited to come for the past two weeks. Instead you feel hollow. 
Even Mr. Lee, the night guard at the library, eyes your solitary exit with something like concern. Even going so far as to call campus public safety to escort you the short walk home.
Your other friends try to take you out, get your mind off the tilt in your world axis. You go. Sit at bar tables and laugh when you're supposed to, make empty conversations with strangers but you don’t care. You want to go home and curl up in your own misery like a blanket and cry until your eyes swell shut and pass out from exhaustion. Eventually, they stop asking if you want to come and just leave ice cream and bottles of wine on your doormat as support.
Your grades don’t suffer, and that’s the only thing you can cling to right now.
In Dr. Wagner’s office, an impromptu meeting under the guise of setting final exam expectations and tinkering the schedule, Wonwoo continues the harsh coldness of silence; content to pretend you don’t even exist. 
You work through it easily enough. You and Wonwoo have the same finals so there's only two schedules (Dr. Wagner’s and your shared one) to coordinate for extra study hours. The entire ordeal takes ten minutes to complete the shared calendar, pack it full of final lab meetings and deadlines for grading.
And when it’s over, you move to rise but Dr. Wagner stops you short.
She looks sheepish which is an odd sight. Immediately, you go to the worst. You grit and swallow and sit back down in the same upholstered chair from the last time she dropped a bomb in your lap. 
This is the bandaid rip you’ve waited for all semester. Whatever is at the end of this meeting means you finally know if you’re good enough or not. If karma does justice and gives Wonwoo the spot in Dr. Collins lab next year because you committed the sin of wanting it too much, sacrificed too much.
“It seems my attempt at friendly competition had some…unintended consequences.”
Where sizzling anger would once flourish and bloom, nothing but empty exhaust stutters to life. “What?”
“Last year, the second my TAs found out I’d recommended them, they slacked off. Missing class, incorrect results in the lab. Now I know you two are hard workers but I was afraid senioritis might set in and I’d have to lay down the law. I don’t like being harsh with my students, not directly anyway. I want the best out of them, and I knew I could anticipate the best from you two. I was always planning to recommend both of you to Dr. Collins. I told him he would regret it if he even thought about not making space for you both next year.”
“What?” you repeat again.
There’s a weight on your knee. You don’t even need to look to know it’s Wonwoo’s hand. He doesn’t look before flipping it over when you place yours on top, fingers knotting together; holds it tight like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. You unconsciously squeeze and he mimics without thought.
“So what does this mean?”
“Dr. Collins can’t outright say it but he’s on the admissions board and decides who gets to join his lab. He was adamant that both of you join him in Boston.”
“But we haven’t even—”
“I know, but the application is a formality at this point.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Your work speaks for itself.”
Wonwoo is still there, clenching your hand for dear life. Waiting for the other shoe to drop because there is no way – no way – it’s this easy. Months at each other's throat from the tension and for nothing. You’re sweaty, heart thumping loud enough it might break from your chest and skitter on Dr. Wagner’s desk. She keeps talking and you still haven’t looked at Wonwoo.
“I’m so proud of you both!” she beams. “And I’m sorry if I’ve…complicated things…for the two of you. It was never my intention. Now, go! Rest! Take the day off and celebrate. Send me the links to your applications and I’ll do my part so you can finally relax before finals.”
The pair of you shuffle outside like zombies. In broad daylight, the world keeps spinning and someone drops their coffee a little further down the street and curses a storm; a car honks at a biker, there's packs of students shuffling around where you stand dumbfounded. Your sweater does little to block the chill of late November wind.
Wonwoo still hasn’t let go of your hand.
“Did that just happen?” he asks.
“What the fuck.”
“What the fuck.”
Your laughing, deranged and fatigued cackles that earn several looks but on the cusps of finals it’s not uncommon enough to stop anyone out of concern. “What the fuck!”
You’re not sure what to do. Celebrate? Cry? 
It’s a little bit of both as Wonwoo swoops in, wrapping his arms around you tight enough to squeeze a surprised scream from your lungs. He’s not done, lifting and spinning you around in a quick circle before crying, “What the fuck!”
You laugh, snorting ugly cackles as he almost drops you with both of you gasping for breath. Completely deranged but what just happened that the rift between you momentarily heals.
Wonwoo sets you down gently but keeps close, his hands your waist like he’s afraid to let go. Like he’s missed you just as much as you’ve missed him. You finally look at him, and it’s the first breath of air after drowning for hours. The creases around his eye, the happy wrinkles around his nose. His hair is long enough it brushes your skin where your foreheads almost touch. His hold is like a cocoon of warmth.
“I’m sorry!” you blurt. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m stupid and stubborn and I’ve been so caught up in this program that I—”
“No,” he shakes his head, arms tightening as you squirm in his hold.
“Let me finish.”
“No,” he says. “I like that you're stubborn and a pain in the ass. And it wasn’t fair that I expected you to just push aside something like grad school for me. I was being selfish and—”
“I love you.”
You might say it again just to see the way he chokes and turns purple; pulls you closer. He’s at a loss for words and you capitalize on the moment.
“I’ve thought about what would happen if I didn’t get in, like a million different possibilities and never once were you not there. I felt like…I don’t know, honestly. Like I was losing you and it was easier to be upset about the program than admit that. It was stupid and I’m stupid, and I’m really bad at speeches so…feel free to shut me up or whatever.”
You wait for him to process what you’ve said – a million emotions swiping across his face. Ridiculous some people act like he’s the embodiment of stoicism because if you know what to look for then they’d realize he’s terrible at hiding the way he feels.
“You love me?”
All that crying you did in the past few weeks means nothing because you could cry right now. But you don’t look away, you don’t ever want to look away from him again because you’d miss the way his face softens.
“Well, we’ve been dating for the past three years. It’s about time I told you.”
Wonwoo doesn’t speak, facing morphing into confusion before he scoffs with disbelief. “You’re so annoying.”
“Hey!” you stomp but Wonwoo pulls you closer, buries his face in your neck and squeezes so tight something feels on the verge of popping in your spine. His ears burn red as he whispers those three words back quietly enough you strain to hear them. He bites your shoulder just to be an asshole.
“What the hell was that for?” 
He does it again.
“Stop biting me you freak, we’re in public.” You pinch his side for good measure and only then does he smash the side of his face to yours and begin walking you backwards, in the direction of your apartment.
“Whatever, you love me.”
He lets you walk normally at the cross walk, your hand in his, both tangled in the warmth of the pocket of his sweatshirt because it’s fucking cold and the wind isn’t helping. Wonwoo drags you straight home, up the stairs, and crowds you against the door and kisses you until you can’t breathe.
“Why are you crying?”
You are. You don’t even realize it had started until you reach up and feel the dampness on your cheeks.
“Probably because I haven’t slept in two days and I missed you, idiot.” Wonwoo kisses you flat on the mouth again at the confession, smiling big enough it’s less of a kiss and more of teeth pressed together. But it’s good. You like it. You speak into his mouth, “I promise I would have really ‘sloppy I love you sex’ but I’m so tired I think I might throw up.”
“You missed me.” he hums, more of a statement than a question.
“Yeah, big head, I missed you. Now let’s sleep.”
“God,” he moans, biting his lip in mock pleasure. Maybe even real pleasure at the idea of a Friday afternoon full of nothing but hazy dreams in silence rarely found in a frat house. “I love you too.”
You undress straight down to your underwear. Cotton with a conservative cut because in no universe did you think you’d end the day with Wonwoo back in your orbit. Wonwoo who loves you, Wonwoo who you love back. But he eyes you like you’re a grand prize and all he wants is to touch you. But the rush of adrenaline keeping you conscious is burning out quickly.
He strips too, nothing but boxers and circles under his eyes but he’s happy. It radiates off him in waves and if you weren’t part of it, you’d throw something at him because it’d be annoying. You might just be glowing too.
You slip under the covers and Wonwoo snuggles up behind you, a second skin with his hand flat to your stomach to keep you from going anywhere. Not that you would. You don’t even remember falling asleep. 
When you wake up, it’s dark outside; which could mean it’s been minutes or hours since the winter sun likes to deep beneath the horizon early in the afternoon. It’s the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.
Everything is warm; your body beneath the comforter, where sweat sticks at your back, the lips dragging across the curve of your neck, Wonwoo’s crotch firm between your legs.
“Good morning to me,” you sigh.
He hums in happy agreement, tongue traces the shell of your ear before kissing across your cheek and chin and finally landing on your mouth with a kiss that can only be described as sappy.
“Got started without me?” Your hands press under his underwear, two palms full of his ass holding him still enough to grind up into. Something about a sleepy make out has you hungry to lay there and take whatever he’ll offer.
“I’ll catch you up, don’t worry.” 
You snicker, “No wonder those freshmen have crushes on you.”
“What do you mean?” He traces your naked sides with his fingers.
“I’ll catch you up,” you mock, then wince from a razor of his teeth as he shifts down your chest. “If you were my TA, I’d try to fuck you.”
“I’m trying to have’ sloppy I love you sex’ and you’re trying to goad me into some student teacher shit?”
He bites your side, just a nip but you flare and blush anyway. “Ooooo, tell me I’m bad.”
“You’re annoying.”
“You love me.”
“As I was saying,” he whispers into your stomach, fingers tugging your panties off. “Sloppy I love you sex.”
“Okay, okay.” You sink a hand in his hair only for him to tug it away, fingers laced together over your sternum as he strokes you to life. “O-oh, that’s—fuck.”
He hikes a leg up over his shoulder, out of the way for the fingers that satisfy the empty squeeze in your gut. Your tongue prickles with another goad but Wonwoo senses it first and swiftly works to silence you with a hot kiss to your clit that makes your vision bleed red.
The cold of the room works in his favor, pinching your nipples tight until you cave to the need to touch yourself. If the light was on then he’d watch and you get the urge to pause the action just for the chance to watch him watch you.
“Don’t stop,” you grunt. 
He eats it filthy, spit and arousal forming a wet mess slipping down your ass. The way his tongue lashes is nothing short of despicable and you know you’re the one that taught him that and you can’t help but flare with pride. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m—” you chant blindly.
The warmth between your legs surrounds, suffocates until your thighs go numb and your shoulders pull away from the mattress with a groan rivaling porn; but you mean it. Wonwoo means it too. 
You clench harder, revitalized in the stretch of another finger and a clip of teeth on your clit.  You tug at your still clasped hands on your chest, bite into the meat of his palm and let the flood consume you with stiff legs and tears in your eyes. “Oh, Wonwoo – u-ugh. Fuck. Fuck.”
Wonwoo takes it, mouth waiting for every eager roll of your hips; completely unphased until you melt back in the sheets with a pathetic mewl.
He kisses up your body, mouth and cheeks wet and warm. When he reaches your mouth you resist the urge to lick him clean. Something about that feels decidedly unlike sloppy I love you sex. So you slip your tongue between his lips instead and spread your legs until his crotch is level with the raw sensitivity of your own.
“Roll over,” you pant.
Like an asshole, he laughs. And then he drops his weight behind his hips and you actually see stars. “Wanna do it like this.”
“Make love to me,” you croon.
He doesn’t even pretend to stifle the obnoxious snort. “Don’t ever say that again.”
“What happened to sloppy I love you sex?” 
“Getting to it. You like it when I come inside you?” Now he’s the one goading and you’re blushing like you’ve never fucked him before. To be fair, you haven’t fucked him as the man you’re in love with so it’s a first time for the both of you. Wonwoo’s drunk on the power of having you stutter through something so familiar yet new.
“Love it.” 
“Good,” he agrees with a saccharine peck to your nose that makes you feel like a doe eyed virgin again. “I love you.”
Your need for games and pretense dissolves. You just want Wonwoo, all of him, until you can’t take it any more. 
Wonwoo senses the change, noses against your cheek before kissing you. He’s still holding your hand, the other cupping your jaw, thumb tracing the curve of flesh. It’s vulnerable and soft and something you probably could’ve experienced years ago if you weren’t willfully blind.
“I love you, too.”
You whisper the confession so quietly it doesn’t even make a sound but Wonwoo figures it out because he surges into action, pulling you to the center of the mattress in all your naked glory. The flood light from the side of the building reflects back in through the slats in the blinds and Wonwoo sits up to soak in what he can see in the limited light.
Twisting a hand in his hair, you pull him down for a kiss; forcing all the emotions you have to the surface. He doesn’t make you wait. Instead, he drops flat, flat together from head to toe as he slips inside. You’re still tight and sensitive, squirming at the feeling of being stretched so thin with Wonwoo wrapped tight in your arms.
“W-wonwoo,” you mewl. You know he loves the sound of his name, any time, in desperate moans and sleepy coos. You’ll say it as much as he wants to hear if he kisses you like he is now – with something new at the edge. Something needy. “More.”
He wraps your legs around his hips, folding you clean in half with a heavy rut into your pussy you’ll feel for days. You both want to drag this out – take hours to come apart and come together again and again – but Wonwoo is already working a hand between your bodies; stroking you over hot coals just to hear you moan his name again.
In record speed, you feel that familiar burn creeping along your spine. He fucks you into a wet mess and it’s all you can do to hold on and claw up his back. Breaks you into something limp and pliant, hands twisted together over head; tugs at that loose thread over and over until you unravel beneath him and Wonwoo watches like it’s magic.
“Oh- oh, Wonwoo–” you cry. Actually cry. Tears he swipes away with a thumb before pressing his mouth to yours.
You’re swollen and stiff, muscles taunt while they twitch from a rush of complete bliss.
“M cumming, baby – oh my god.” Wonwoo bucks into the tight squeeze of your legs, deeper, harder, more. “Love you—fuck.”
He hides with soft sighs in your neck, skin sticky where you both slide together. You cradle him to your chest, fingers rushing through the sweaty tangles on his hair gently. A kiss to his head, his brow, his nose that wrinkles from pure content.
But you’re not done yet.
You wiggle from beneath him, peeling yourself off the pillows, lower half still numb from one hell of an orgasm. But you want more, insatiable and doped on years of repressed fondness. “Can you go again?” 
Wonwoo looks like you asked him to run a marathon. “You want me to die?”
“Worse ways to go,” you coo, sinking low enough to take his cock in your mouth. It tastes like you and him and it makes your eyes roll.
“God. I didn’t know sappy sex meant you’d try to kill me,” he moans airly under your ministrations, a hand at the back of your head when you show off with a nose to his crotch before sliding off. “You’re evil.”
“I’m in love with a sexy nerd and I'm horny,” you sigh dreamily, thrilled with the way he pulses in your hold.
“Yeah, well…” he gives up on whatever rebuttal under the weight of your body on top of his. Nothing he can argue with in that statement anyway so you tease him with a kiss, smile when he chases your mouth, roll when you realize he can taste the mix of you both off your tongue.
“You know…I’ll need a roommate in Boston.”
“Huh,” Wonwoo feigns. His focus is on the way your tug at his cock, spit and cum webbed between your fingers. This isn’t the best way to have this conversation but you’re both high on sleep deprivation, love, and orgasms and it encourages loose lips.
“Know anyone interested?”
He shudders back into the pillow, leaving his neck open for your teeth with a choked, “Yeah.”
“Who?”
“Me.” 
“Yeah?”
“Yeah —fuck—wanna wake up to you every morning.”
“Even if I’m a cranky bitch?” Your knees bracket his hips, cunt split on his cock as you grind against the underside.
His stomach caves as he responds with a thin voice, “yeah.”
You like waking up to him too. Falling asleep with him tangled in your body, listening to him hum in the shower when he thinks you aren’t listening. Sometimes he even sings with a little encouragement like those times you were sick and the only thing that got your mind from exploding like thunderclaps was the lullabies from his childhood that he cooed into your hairline.
Starting and ending everyday with Wonwoo sounds nothing short of blissful.
“Okay.” You tangle his fingers with your own, rising on your knees to distract from the sheepish smile splitting your face in two.
“Really?”
“I like having you around,” you admit, sinking down on his cock. “Makes me feel better.”
Weird conversation over the back track of slapping skin and pathetic muffled sobs but you like it. Feels well overdue.
“A-about?”
Everything.
He gives a tender squeeze to your thigh, cradles your face in both hands, eye contact that you fight not shutter away from because it’s terrifying he can see you clearly. 
He’s lost; completely mesmerized by the way you bounce on the length of him, grind back into his lap like you’re possessed.
“Can’t last—” he chokes.
“S’okay,” you press the words into his cheek, his jaw, the bones jutting from around his collar. “Just wanna feel you.”
You bend and strain for his pleasure, to watch it dance across his brow as he cums inside you again, his hands heavy on your ass, your thighs, whatever he reflexively grips in a bid for grounding, nails leaving streaks of color. Twitching and jerking in sensitive painful bliss, his eyes roll back with a quick exhale. “Fuck-k.”
You're sticky and used between the legs but you take comfort in the feeling and bask in the glow on top of him. Nothing but a pile of satisfied boneless goo where you lay with sweaty skin and heat you feel from the top of your head to your toes. “Good?”
“Great,” he hums, pulling into one last toe numbing kiss. 
When feeling returns to your bodies, you spend the rest of the night eating greasy pizza on the couch in nothing but his shirt, drinking wine straight from the bottle in celebration. You kiss Wonwoo whenever you want, which, admittedly, is a lot; a flurry of sappy pecks over his face leaves him blushing and dewy. When you fall asleep after making love once again, the last thing you hear is him saying he loves you too.
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Epilogue
4 months later…
There’s a certain level of comfort that comes with receiving an official acceptance email. The words you’ve been waiting to hear since Dr. Wagner all but confirmed your future in a fifteen minute meeting last semester.
On behalf of the Chemistry department, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as a part of…
The big envelope in the mail today helped too.
Wonwoo sends a photo of his, unopened, because you promised to open them together tonight. On your date; which is nothing more than grading assignments and eating leftover take out on the couch like so many nights have been spent already. But this time he’s your boyfriend. And after all the worksheets are graded, and you get to cuddle deep into the worn couch cushions, you get to tell him you love him and he’ll say it back and the flutter in your veins at the thought is nothing short of magical. 
And this time you have a surprise waiting for him and he might just cry. Or you hope so. You’ve got $50 riding on the possibility.
You’re sweating through your shirt from putting the new piece of furniture together for the past three hours by the time he shows up with a bag of takeout, Thai food from the place on Market where they know you by order, and a kiss you’ve been missing since the morning when he left for one of his stupid workouts. 
Wonwoo sets the bag on the counter, immediately pulling you into his arms before sagging like a deflated balloon. “Pixel got adopted today.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He’s moping. He accepts your placating kiss with a pout, and starts unpacking the food.
You feel the smallest flutter of guilt but it's worth it.  “That sucks.” 
“She needed a good home.” Wonwoo confirms and that's the end of the conversation.
Even in your final semester, your schedules are still packed. Crammed full with meetings, exams, work, Wonwoo’s volleyball stuff that you attend with posters and sit near the other girlfriends. It’s weird but not because its the same stuff you two were doing for years. But it’s exhausting.
So you don’t blame Wonwoo for not noticing the newest addition to your apartment until he’s inhaled his food and the last third of yours.
“Babe.”
“What?” you ask, focusing on cutting another red slash into the white paper.
“What’s that?”
He points at the gigantic cat tower in the corner next to the couch. It’s cramped in tight but in two months you’ll both be in Boston with a bigger apartment with real bedrooms so it’s only temporary.
You shrug and make another mark. “Oh, just something I picked up.”
“You don’t have a cat.”
“Huh. Weird.” Your eyebrows furrow in mock confusion but you keep grading papers or else it’s game over and the need to watch him puzzle together your plans is all you want. “Then what’s the thing in the bathroom?”
“You didn’t.”
“I did,” you confirm.
Wonwoo stares open mouthed, between you and the bathroom door and back to you. He might pinch himself but he flies off the couch with childlike eagerness and your face hurts from smiling already.
Pixel spends the rest of the night curled up asleep on her new dad’s lap and you’re $50 richer. Mingyu’s girlfriend is already offering to catsit despite Mingyu’s pouts about losing money.
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Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie
@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire
@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi
@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts
@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially
@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy
@lukeys-giggle @aaa-sia @tinkerbell460
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aihaitahm · 1 year
Note
if u have time can u plsss write ab vampire blade🙏🙏
vampire blade with gn! reader
cw blood mentioned
vampire blade and how instantly magnetized he was when you walked past him. he tends to always stay inside in the morning but elios assigned him to do something that morning and he grumbled, because why cant elios just grab silver wolf or kafka or anybody else to do it.
vampire blade purposely bumping into you to get interactions from you. he loves your voice and your looks make him lose his breath. mutual gazing and light touches. he started taking some morning chores/missions from elios which made the stellaron hunters question why he all of a sudden wants to take on these missions, where he would usually complain loudly.
vampire blade and when he’s secret admiration for you was out because of kafka, he begs and will even pay or play videogames with silver wolf to get your social medias. kafka is a big tease and would use you for black mail.
“bladie do you mind doing this mission for me?”
“no.”
“well i guess i tell (name) about how you feel towards them. right bronie?”
“can you ever be more reasonable? fine i’ll do it.”
vampire blade and how he became flustered yet prideful when you first approach him to help you with something. some people were bothering you and you wanted him to make them go away because he naturally looks scary.
vampire blade giving you his number just in case you need help for anything. he was so smooth with it and even kafka and silver wolf was impressed while hiding behind the bushes. he texts you to make sure you got home safe and because he wants to talk to you.
vampire blade and him sharing his thoughts with you. he enjoys your company a lot. you both have gotten close and you show have mutual respect for each other. he gets a bit jealous when you hang out with other people. also you do notice how blade dresses up a lot in the morning as if he hates the sun and dresses more comfortably in the morning.
vampire blade reveals he was a vampire when you point about how he hates the sun. he was scared for your reaction but he had to get it out of the way. to his surprise, you werent shocked at all and you kinda knew along which made him quite disappointed when you said he’s quite obvious. sarcastic remarks sparked between you, making you both blush.
one night as you both were walking, monsters came up and came in the way. vampire blade knows how to fight and he always felt the need to always protect you. you fought along side with him and he was very skillful, you admired him for that. after the long fight, he felt quite thirsty and nauseaous. he did not want to drink out of you but if you offered… he wouldnt know how to react.
you noticed how thirsty and how vampire blade was suffering. you then unbuttoned your shirt and offered him a drink by your neck. vampire blade was hesitant but he was feeling like absolute shit.
“i apologize…” vampire blade held you close and tight. feeling the warmth of your body and the sexual tension between you both. you felt his hot fangs sink in deeper and deeper until he was drawing blood. you whimpered as he continued to suck at your neck, fingers playing with his hair.
as he finished, vampire blade noticed your obvious fatigued and brought you to the hunters’ place to get you aided. he carried you gently, and apologized. you being half awake and being dizzy, confessed to him so it is alright, as long he takes care of you. blade’s hand stiffen at your words. his usually pale skin, going bright red.
“its okay… i like you alot anyway maybe love too. just take care of me bladie…”
“idiot dont talk to me like your dying… of course im going to take care of you. youve always been mine and i… i like you too a lot.”
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thumperdaetime · 2 months
Text
A Gentle Reminder:
if you feel like you're spinning your wheels, and stuck doom scrolling this week -due to the current political landscape. I highly recommend logging off for a bit and seeing if you have the stomach to call a loved one who has political veiws that clash with your own.
social media and news coverage is fantastic for getting info out to people who want to listen, but it is an ineffective tool for actually communicating with people you disagree with.
I'm not a people-scientist but every time i see "yelling at each other online doesn't actually help" and have the energy to look into What does actually help, experts always say that it's empathetic, long term relationships between people that disagree.
so if you have a bunch of nervous political energy and no clearly helpful place to put it right now:
go call your grandmother. talk about the weather, and the way you miss her cooking. give her a real living person to picture The next time a newscaster talks about the radical-left-mob. if you talk to her regularly consider asking what she thinks about the recent political thing. you're not there to debate or prove her wrong or even change her mind. just listen to someone you love confess their fears, and then share your own fears. you are probably actually on the same side when you get down to it. you both want a safe place to live and the people you love to be happy, (most people do) its just you dont agree about how to go about that.
text your little cousin a random meme, when they send back a thing about how voting is a scam, let it go. share a vine to find out if they know the deep lore. make plans to meet up and play whatever video game they're obsessed with right now. and if the vibe is right and its not going to become an argument, try talking a bit about why the whole not voting movement scares you. don't talk down to them, talk like your two friends who respect each other's opinion (Thats The whole goal actually) ask them why they think its a good strategy, collaborate on other activist things you can do together. included them in your politics instead of dismissing their points.
and its not easy, as wild as it is to think about having a deep but pleasant conversation with your worst Uncle. the fact remains that Your Problematic & Uncle is much more likely to speak up for gay rights. if you can get to a place where you enjoy each others company, and you feel safe talking to him about your struggles as a queer person. and to be fair, you are more likely to take into account the effects of a gun ban on the local wildlife balance, if you sit through your Problematic Uncle complaining about how local restrictions made deer season hard to do last year, and now the tic population is up and the food banks are empty.
divide and conquer is a long standing tactical strategy. and we have seen that fascist in particular like to divide people into a hierarchy of ""real people""" and an ""inhuman enemy"" . when we let their rhetoric turn our peers and neighbors into an inhuman enemy, we can loose sight of what we should actually be fighting for and against.
and if you spend all your time yelling at Doug Nobody who was taking an angry shit when you were typing out that essay, you take energy away from the real fight (the systems and actual active oppressors). the best way to stop that tactic is by standing together with people outside of the box you've been assigned (as much as ethically possible). and refusing to let the system make you perpetuate usless infighting.
When we let the political fandom (yes i mean the media made around politics and not actual political action) act as a wedge between us and people who could have been in our lives, we end up with weaker support groups and less per review for political ideas. it is easy to believe Q-anon if the only people you talk to believe in Q-anon. the same way it is easy to believe that Taylor Swift is a lesbian if everyone you talk to believes Taylor Swift is a lesbian. sometimes we need a person to stop and say "wait, can you run that idea by me again? it doesn't fit my perception of reality"
and Yes. it is probably unlikely at this point to convince someone who has voted one way their whole life to change their political views before November. but that doesn't mean we dont reach-out ever. there will still be politics in September and October, you will still need a diverse support group, and people you trust to bounce political ideas off of. and if you are as worried as i am about this upcoming election, it is very possible that having a community of people who are okay with working together despite political differences will be very helpful in the coming years. (and holding a meaningful, satisfying conversation with someone you disagree with on a fundamental issue is a huge skill to have if you want to take part in alot of activism, community building, or family gatherings)
a quick list of things Op is NOT Saying in this post:
it is your duty and responsibility to do this thing and you're a bad person for not doing it.
this is really easy and everyone should be able (and willing) to take on the emotional energy needed to do this for everyone they know who doesn't agree with them.
watching news or being on social media doesn't help anything.
this is the best way to help and there are no other things you should be doing with your time/energy.
the conversations will be pleasant and/or will always have a positive outcome.
any beliefs i listed together are some how morally equivalent.
you should compromise your beliefs for the sake of getting along with others.
the best answer is most likely centrist because both sides are extremists.
voting this one time will fix all of the things and you're evil if you are conflicted about it.
voting is the best way for a single individual to enact change in their country.
i love the president, and the candidates, and the voting system, and the two parties, and the electoral college, and the bombs, and the genocide and all the death and corruption and violence its all holding up and being held up by.
we should listen to "both sides" to get a fair and balanced picture of the issue
we should let nazis, and bigots, and fascist talk openly about their ideas openly as if its not hate speech calling for violence against marginalized people.
you Have to go reconnect with your abusers and toxic relationships from your past in the hopes you can convince them to vote correctly.
the current political thing that made me make this post is The Most Important Thing!!! that has ever happened in the whole world over all of written history, and we should all be talking about it for forever, otherwise you're helping the inhuman enemy!!!
things are already fucked so theirs no point in trying to get enough votes.
things will be fine and ok if nothing changes and we just keep on this projected path forward.
i know so much and am so smart and I've solved political discourse and if only everyone listened to me we would have world peace already.
Taylor Swift is a wlw
things I am saying. now. here. at the end of the post:
be kind. go look at the sky. i love you <3
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pumpkinsy0 · 11 days
Note
can we please get some fluffy/cute papercut hcs?!? i feel like people have been asking/sending in too many things about other characters/shows and i need my fix back
ur right bro im sorry i need to get back into my papercut roots,,,i apologize,,,i know my place,,,
•curly would ONLY hold ponys hands if its so he can squeeze it w the force of fucking superman and ponys hand is just throbbing in pain
•pony calls darry superman,,,and curly calls tim batman,,,,and pony asked “wouldnt that make u robin” and he stopped laughin IMMEDIATELY, aint shit funny man shut up🙎🏽‍♀️
•when i say curly cant cook, i mean he CAN, but it probably wont look that appetizing, tried making ribs once and the way it was looking pony had to ask “whos ribs r those”, like a ‘what the fuck animal did that come from, it looks like it should be in the move the thing’
•these niggas SUCK at uno if they were a team together, they argue too much and would probably accidentally shown one of the cards they got😭
•pony did try teaching curly some gymnastics but curly nearly broke a bone doing it, he is NOT athletic enough to b doin it, he can do a backflip though (barely but still)
•curlys practiced braiding hair (for angela mainly) on pony, he wanted to prove he could do it☝🏽☝🏽
•there r these designs ppl in haiti paint on themselves for carnival and id like to think that curly tried doing it on ponys had w a pen in class, he was bored and pony likes the feeling
•curly kinda gets cuteness aggression???but not rlly??? he just likes pony a lot and sometimes roughhouses to get the feeling out, its just in his bones
•they also had a chicken contest to see who could inhale the most w a cigarette, was like a “who can catch cancer speedrun” atp, they dont even know who won, they took a deep inhale and chocked and dropped the cigarettes and couldnt tell whos was whos
•i think it would b cute if curly had a freckle on his lips and pony would look at it a lot and curly would joke “what u wanna kiss me or somethin🤨”
•sometimes pony “flirts” w curly right back when he drops a line on him and curly is always surprised cause he NEVER suspects it, but hes not complaining
•immmm ginna hc they move to brooklyn bc thats where i am and i demand them they stay close to me, but if they hear a few cars blasting music at night driving past one of them is thinking “shut the hell uppp” while the other is like “wow!!!!humans r rlly alive in this moment w me!!!”, it flip flops whos who
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whumpbug · 2 months
Note
OKAY OKAY THIS ONE IS IMPORTANT. How would each of your new sillies text. all caps? kaomojis? walls of text? would anyone be a triple texter?
THIS ONE IS SO FUN AND SO SILLY. going to provide a tiny example for each!!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!
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nieven: this guy texts like he's still sending things through messanger Spigeon (space pigeon). he texts in like. email format. like its a letter.
"Good Evening Nylathrania,
I am messaging because I noticed the third restroom (the one just to the right of the hangar bay and to the left of the storage closet) has run out of paper and there was none in the cupboard. I was wondering if you'd put it on the list for the next port stop so that this matter may be resolved quickly. Thank you.
Best wishes, Captain Nieven Alaric."
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hari: he's more casual about it... maybe too casual. typos galore. he's the triple texter. he spams people phones because he breaks up his thoughts into each message (me too...)
"yo vinmy do you have that book for that1 planet"
"the one with the green n trees n shit"
"yknow"
"with the pink flowrs"
"the ones i wad allergic to"
"hello"
"helloooo"
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nyla: she is your kaomoji user. she texts so cutesy and compared to the rest of them its so funny and out of place. she is so cute. she just has fun decorating her messages
"guysss dinner in 20 minutes o(>ω<)o i made earth ice cream for desert!!!!!!!!"
"wait... sorry hari forgot you can't have that ueueue (っ´ω`)ノ(╥ω╥)"
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zel: SHE TEXTS OMINOUS AS HELL. HER TEXTS ARE SO WEIRD AND CREEPY. NO ONE KNOWS WHAT SHE MEANS SHE JUST SAYS STUFF AND BOLDS RANDOM WORDS ITS SO SCARY.
"Nyla. Be alert."
"Hari... Trust that you will have the day you deserve."
"Where is everyone..."
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vinny: they send BRICKS. of text at a time. they text like they talk and they can YAP. its worse because there's hardly any puncuation or line breaks when they message so its just. hell.
"okay guys so we're gonna land on this new planet soon ive been looking at some of the readings and it looks like the planet might be cold ill be fine. but make sure you all bring extra layers because last time you were all complaining even though i gave you ample warnings so make sure you pack that also. make sure no one has any weapons looking at you zel because we won't be let in if we have any i was translating the radio waves, which seems to be their main form of communication to outsider. it says that we shouldnt be armed in any way. it may be suspicious but its better than risking an entire planet to war against us. any weapon bigger than a normal pair of scissors (5") is strictly prohibited looking at all of you (zel) to make sure you empty your pockets. check all your packed clothes and bags as well. daggers are also prohobited. make sure you bring extra layers once again we dont need any of you getting forstbite"
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ren: baby boy isn't the most literate because of his upbringing so nyla and vinny showed him emojis and his life has been changed ever since. he hardly EVER uses words in his texts.
nyla: hi ren!! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ i'm making dinner, do you want anything specific?? ^^
ren: 🍜 ❓😄 🤔
nyla: okay! noodles it is!!!! (b ᵔ▽ᵔ)b
✮⋆˙
AUGHGHG THEY ARE SO SILLY THIS WAS SUCH A FUN QUESTION THANK YOU!!!
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"i've been part of the pompous homophobe community for years and have never experienced pompous homophobia because it doesn't affect me personally why are gay people whining"
so for some context: i replied to this post by saying "one of the people who were originally talking about gay cafes as an alternative to gay bars/clubs was a recovering alcoholic who wanted somewhere to hangout without having to be around alcohol. it was always "we should have more options" not "theres something Wrong with going to a bar". Said recoving alcoholic i was referring to is Natalie Ironside, an asexual trans woman.
Someone else replied "there should be more options but there are definitely people who dont like clubs and think they shouldn't exist bc they dont like them and wont go to them".
Because i have never heard this opinion from anyone, ever, i sent back "I've been part of the asexual community for years and I have never once heard someone say this. Sure someone out there has said literally anything and everything but that's not a dominant opinion".
This is why i brought up the asexual community, because people in the replies and tags were complaining about the idea of queer cafes, which as i said, was thought up/popularized by an asexual woman, and a lot of the push back is just because of her identity and the unfair assumptions and stereotypes people like you pushed on her.
also, no idea where the idea that asexual people are all just homophobic pretenders came from. probably some bullshit from 2012. i very much have experienced homophobia, not that you care clearly, and tons of aphobia as well. mostly because people refuse to acknowledge its existence, brush it off as stupid discourse, then turn around and treat me like shit specifically for being asexual.
i also never said gay people were whining, i made my own post (as you should when your complaining about someone, instead of sending anon hate like a little bitch) strawmaning these people as "why are you saying we should have less gay bars? kinda puritan ngl" and i put that together after looking through the replies of the post i mentioned at the top. yes its not *exactly* what people were saying but my point remains. y'all hate the idea just because an ace trans woman came up with it. not all of us want to be pressured to drink while hanging out
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marcianoliterati · 1 year
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# A MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING ADAPTATION WHERE THEY'RE STUCK TOGETHER DUE TO COVID LOCKDOWNS,BORED AF, AND ON THEIR PHONES 247.
A SOCIAL MEDIA AU. SORT OF.
claudio benedict pedro and tagalong little brother john are roadtripping
italy.
they pay a visit to their old friends' parents house, where hero and
beatrice are also holidaying.
hero and claudio have been heavily flirting online
beatrice and benedict have been fighting online for like a decade,
basically since they met
everyone who follows them but doesnt know them irl thinks it's just a
game and that they're actually dating
all of them are online but none of them are big influencers or anything,
no one has more than 5k followers
and their followers beyond friends and family dont even cross that much
they all post about different things outside of life stuff
only beatrice and benedict intersect, theyre the only ones who have a
lot of different active accounts and they follow each other on every
single one, from like lj to fb to tumblr to twitter to insta to tiktok,
they even regularly show up in each other's reddit posts for the sole
purpose of disagree,most of the time, theyre not even in the same
subreddits or fandoms
but their spats are amusing and a few bits have gone viral before.
but then you get a lot of late-twenty something stuck together, and
posting all the time, reviving somewhat dormant account, it's like an
impromptu accidental reality show
at first its just like games, from tag and hide and seek to passionate
games of uno and clue,tours of the place, building shit, improvising
stuff, and theyre constantly posting little snippets, and so on
benedict and beatrice both post the same thing like "worst person to get
stuck with" and at first people thing they went on holiday together but
now theyre just stuck at like a villa the parents rented
"oh so you just met up while on holiday. riiiiiiiight"
they keep posting, complaining about dumb shit the other is one, about
their disgustingly in love with friends, and so on.
their friends also post clips of them arguing, like during games where
theyre always rivals,and others of them always seeking each other out
a new account pops up something like beadick updates or something, that
takes the time of trawling through all the accounts to post compilations
and builds a bit of a timeline of them through the years
then a different account pops up that start sending them personal
videos, clearly some of their friends having fun
they also post about the group discussing b&b (crucially hidden from
them)
and later both bea and ben hearing the others discussing them and how
they react
cue compilations like "no women will ever tempt me" next to "but it bea
wants me im down" and ben dissing bea next to talking her up after, same
for bea.
it goes like that for a bit
the leak continues posting them acting awkward around each other, trying
to argue then running away, spying on the other,trying to do something
nice while seeming like they dont care
then theres some event theyve organised
a lot of posts of everyone looking nice
a few of people drinking
and then a livestream of dancing is interrupted by a lot of shouting the
sound of stuff breaking and what seems like a physical fight
and then everyone goes quiet
then it switches
the audience, which had been steadily growing, is left in the dark, the
fourth wall is broken when they decide to reach in and find out what the
hell is going on.
someone hacks the complex's cctv
the updates account posts different bits, claudio having a huge jealous
tantrum and starting a fight, hitting hero in the process
then b&b left alone in the garden, with confessions of love to follow
and then shouting and storming off "i will cut his heart out with a
spoon!"
"for you, i will defy covid and the goverment" promises ben before
leaving
the others try to pack and leave, but are stopped and so they hide in a
small cabin on the edge of the property, where they start drinking
it is there where ben finds them, smashes the bottles and dares them to
make it right or he will reign fire on them
claudio laughs at first going "but why is the rum gone?????!"
but then he gets actually worried
the audience witness this via cctv, they see ben through the grounds,
finding the cabin,hear the smashing and shouting
then they start looking back seeing if there is any back footage or if
its been deleted.
it hasnt
they find a treasure trove
not knowing how to contact them discreetly,beadick updates posts a video
of little brother john discussing sabotage plans with some minions and
they tag every account
the cctv is only outside for privacy reasons so they only know it worked
when they see john making a run for it, trying to climb the walls, being
caught by claudio and beaten before john pulls him off
then everyone reunites outside, when they see them coming up
hero goes up to john and hits him, then she goes up to claudio and does
the same
she spits at pedro and calls him a coward
claudio falls on his knees and begs for forgiveness
but she tells him he's clearly not worth her trust or love
everyone is feeling hurt and sore and not sure where to go now
pedro steps up and apologises
he shouldve known better than to trust anything john says, he's always
loved stirring up trouble for no reason
and they shouldve come to her not make a huge deal and ruin everything
claudio also apologises but more begrudginly, same as john
as they all just sort of stand there, their phones ping
and so pedro goes 'hey whats the deal with the video? who found it?"
before anyone gets an answer someone checks and gasps
the audience, stirring shit up, sends the video of them all plotting to
get b&b together, and laughing as they talked it all up
"so you do not love me? it was all a ruse?"
they both accuse each other and then turn to their friends, who in turn
took to look at the cameras in suspcion
their phones ping again. only b&b's first, which makes them both put on
pained faces of "what now?"
so then everyone's faces ping
it's a video compilation of b&b doing nice things for the other in
secret
bea spent an afternoon learning to make ben's favourite biscuits, and
then just left them in the kitchen for him to find
ben spent forever tracking something bea forgot, and then hiding it in
her room to make it look like it was just temporarily misplaced
bea finding ben's favourite movie and casually engineering things for a
watchalong
ben coming up with a thousand different ways to distract bea whenever
she starts to look sad or worried
they all watched, as it dawns on them that a) apparently, theyve had an
audience this whole time
and b)it was never a ruse
b&b were always in love, just too afraid or stubborn or emotionally
constipated to do anything about it
so hero turns to bea and goes "all this time? what the hell happened
between you two?"
beatrice and benedict look at each other and just shrug
"it doesnt matter. we're here now"
they kiss
beadick updates posts a playlist of several hours on yt featuring their
whole story, with videos of them as teens, shyly flirting, to a lot of
screenshots and clips of them arguing online, to the whole saga in
italy, ending in their big kiss
as an epilogue, the two post a video of them in the airport, they thank their audience, and say now they can travel so they will be going off together
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amethiosspouse · 8 months
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erm what the flip, one ur bullying a minor and my bio literally says dni if you dont like my content ;-; /hj
seriously though, i've had your ANON request sitting in my inbox for so long i might as well reply to it (the fact that you didnt have the balls to send this ask without turning on anon is just fucking hilarious to me). i've been debating whether or not to reply to this ask for quite some time now and here i am growing a pair and doing so (UNLIKE YOU).
first of all, where do i even start??? how does me making (low quality) content of my self inserts bother you to the point where you send a WHOLE ASS HATE SPEECH abt how much you hate it??? like, this sounds so cliche but the block button exists for a reason. simple as that. theres people out there making literal pokemon nsfw for a living and here you are complaining about the fact that i ship myself with a character???
second of all, a good part of your paragraph is just you saying my character is offensive. AS A PERSON WHO ISNT EVEN NON BINARY??? firstly, who even are you to say that?? non binary people can represent themselves however they want to. same goes to everyone else in the LGBTQ community. and i NEVER once in my life, labelled my selfships as BL ships. most of my yumes are either gnc/nonbinary or straight up cis male and most of their ships are with male characters but i always label them as either MLM or just "the gays" cuz of my limited knowledge on what to call those types of queer relationships.
this is the last part im gonna cover before making more amemari shit to piss ppl off like you ig but gamefreak/nintendo themselves have NEVER once confirmed a characters sexuality (from memory) and judging by the wording of your last statement im assuming youre mad that i label amethio as someone who isnt straight...
amethio is gay and suck my balls bro he kisses me 24/7 get over it
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seriously though, im still in awe someone would send me this and im happy to finally get this off my inbox <3
i could write more paragraphs abt how this persons hate paragraph doesnt make sense to me but im losing braincells as i type this and i honestly do not have the mental capacity to respond to this anymore.
to the anon who sent me this, try and find some real happiness apart from making fun of others and telling people what to do in life <3
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monmuses · 3 months
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🔥 for any of your muses, is there a commonly-accepted headcanon or ship that you absolutely despise?
Send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion. - currently accepting!
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GOD do i have a few that i could talk about
okay so im not one who's like "i hate this ship because it's problematic and wrong!" type shit. im more of like ........ "i dont like this ship because the chemistry makes zero sense" or "it gives me a major ick". i only view that with ships that are actually having growth in a media.
one ship i genuinely despise is Angel x Husk from Hazbin Hotel. i DO NOT see the appeal nor do i believe the show itself has shown that growth between both characters. im not complaining about the age gaps or shit like that, but its like ............ i don't see how any of them would really be together in a romantic or even platonic sense.
like, there's multiple points where Husk's boundaries are constantly pushed by Angel and Husk responds accordingly. and it just doesnt seem to fit Husk's character to like Angel's presence solely because of how often he makes people uncomfortable and breaks their boundaries (often on purpose!). and i know an argument one can give is, "but it's hell! people are shitty!" i get it. but from the perspective of a ship actually growing and developing between two characters, i don't like it nor did i think they were, in any shape or form, close friends. sure, there's a bond, but not to where Husk would be entirely comfortable.
for a character who's had a shit past and shit outcome, being cheated into a contract with another Overlord, i'd expect him to still have his walls up. he just doesnt seem like the type of character who'd end up tolerating someone who's acting sexual and dropping innuendos to them in the hopes they'd get a reaction.
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inventedfangirling · 1 year
Text
ep 3 thoughts
firstkhao have way too much chemistry to be cast as mere fuckbuddies...what the hell was that domestic shiz in the morning after scene make it stop i dont wanna love them together more than i already do but i also know there's more cute shiz coming and i cant complain cos boi do i wanna see it all
pls that kitchen scene where ray tells sand that he's just teasing him but then asks him if he's okay with it pls?? more of that pls. i love it. i love them!!! also i cant believe im saying this but im having way more fond feelings for sand than ray so far. that being said khao looks criminally goodlooking🤌
boston projecting onto nick by asking him if he likes top too lmao but also im not really getting why he's being so good to nick. why the casual intimacy, the random cheek kisses and shiz when nick seems upset, seems more than what boston is used to doing with others. he clearly developing a soft corner for nick whose deviousness we're just starting to really get into altho ofc the signs were there since ep 1 gawd the mess is just getting started
as soon as i thought that and bam boston has gotten to manipulating both ray and top in very different ways to attain the same outcome, cant wait for when all of this blows up in his face, courtesy nick
oh also cannot wait for mew to find out all the shit thats been happening behind his back and go batshit crazy cos thats gonna be THE EPISODE
ahhh more firstkhao how did i forget about this car scene
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um how about you first stop looking so edible then maybe he wont send puppy dog eyes your way but also you arent even looking at his eyes!????
nooooo why did mew have to lose his key i hate that sand finally gave in only to be faced with disappointment why you do that to him ray WHY but also i cant help love that he dropped his makeout session immmediately to go help out his friend eventho its mainly due to his feelings for him, stilll any stray bit thrown to friendship in this mishmash of sexual/romantic relationships i will take.
yikes nick bugged the car pls his expression while standing outside i dieeed
im finally caught up and next week's preview my gawds i really everybody to back off and take my baby sand's feelings into consideration...he is such a softboy people need to treat him with the love he deserves i will RIOT and also as much as i love sandray together i am very excited for ray and mew's kiss next week time for the pairs to mix and match...id never have watched such a mess of a show a while ago but now that i am watching it, i wanna lean into wholly.
can we get more screentime for the lesbians too that would be great kbye, until next week
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fauslayer · 1 year
Note
2 3 7 11 & 12?
‼ theres some suggestive to downright implicative shit going on in this one (due to the nature of the first question) watch out ‼
2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom
it deleted my entire thang i have to type it.again hold on
ok this is a tough one. because i have like. insane people thoughts on faust guilty gear and sexuality mostly revolving around his canonical masochism and how that intersects with his atonement complex and his profession.
I Do Not Think Faust Tops In The Ways People Think He Would, Usually. theres been an exception or two where i understand fully where OP is coming from and it feels like they understand both why hes desirable and how he would wish to be desired rather than just wanting a size difference “”monsterfucker qualifier“” character to jump after. but these are exceptions in an already rare enough situation.
I Think He COULD Top If He Wanted To Though. talking pre-strive i imagine he could be caring about it but i think sex with him in a more traditional sense would lack closeness. i think there are some things you can only strip bare from him if you get a little weird. i have conflicting thoughts on the common placement of him in a sort of medicalplay or “sex as treatment” scenario where i think the only way it would be Truly intimate and not just him using his body as an extension of his profession without much care to his own physicality and such would be like. I don't know bro you have to get a little weird with him! am i even allowed to talk about fausts canonical masochism on tumblr dotcom.
TLDR there should be more serious character exploration of pre-strive faust and how he expresses himself as a vessel for servicing others and how that interlocks with his self-proclaimed “shameful” masochistic desires and the freedom that only actual selfishness in this regard can give him. and there should also be more exploration of sexuality with post-strive faust because You motherfuckers cannot be that afraid of him. If you already want his kidney scraper so goddamn bad you can care for him a little bit more.
What happened I blacked out.
3. screenshot or description of the worst take you’ve seen on tumblr
if this was on twitter (so many people are weird about faust there) or ao3 (i dont want to ask triptych_triptych_triptych why they're so mad that guilty gear doesnt show faust and may experiencing anti-asian racism as a result of 9/11, which did not happen in the guilty gear universe, because id rather not read another word of their pseudointellectual nonsense parading their lack of media literacy and completely unnecessary self-flagellation as Real Transsexual Art) i would have perhaps worse things to send but here you go
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this post was so long and disgustingly descriptive while saying pretty much nothing at all. when i sent this to my friends to complain about i blur-stretched everything past the first couple lines in mspaint because i think looking at it unfiltered in the future (like now) would make me literally fucking tremble with rage and i have forgotten OPs url. i hope i blocked them but i have the memory of an ant. you only really need the first few lines to know this post is insanely bad. and this isnt a dig on it for being a Sex Post. i just think if youre the kind of rinse and repeat nothingburger blog whose entire outwards appearance is that of a postironic "im not like the other channies" 4channer who thinks theyre hot shit because theyre over 20 and Not Afraid To Say Slurz you probably shouldnt touch guilty gear because without love it cannot be seen and you desperately need to find love for yourself before you touch ky kiske again. ok
7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?
i really dont want to say bidget. i love bidget. bidget is a reminder of self love and discovery, of living and growth and understanding and all that shit. i look at her in-game or i listen to the town inside me and i think about that time daisuke said smth in that interview that amounted to “i make a lot of guilty gear characters because i want underrepresented people to see a vision of happiness for themselves“.
but oh my god nobody that Posts Her seems to get it. all i see are the same tired memes and using her as just boring-ass iconography. claiming that she SHOULD be more popular than the Mean Brown Protagonist because shes a transgender white woman who has a side-part in the main plot. like holy shit im SO grateful shes here and that They Fixed Her but oh my god dude ive genuinely heard more than one person say that they were glad that she seemed like the protagonist more than sol.
11. number of fandom-related words you’ve filtered
my only filtered tags are Goncharov (just didnt find it funny but not in an offensive way and wanted to let everyone have their fun) and umineko spoilers but back when i was a moreso mentally unwell teenager i had like every variant of zato-1 muted that i could possible come up with. i would say i dont know what was wrong with me but i was like 17 and going through some things.
12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them
I THOUGHT YOU GUYS LOVED TWINKS WHERES THE ADORATION AND CARE FOR MY GOOD FRIEND ZAPPA GUILTY GEAR!! not only is he, on a surface and aesthetic level, sooooooo kyute but i think hes genuinely very gripping. he had to be stronger for himself than i think he shouldve ever had to be and i kinda wish we got a light novel chronicling him trying to dispel the ghosts before landing his government job or something like that.
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phantomdecibel · 1 year
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hey if u ever like,, have to get a cheque reissued or whatever and send it back to whoever u got it from,,, please be polite,,,, the people you think you’re yelling at are never gonna fucking see ur lil temper tantrum okay the ppl who are actually reading probably weren’t even involved in sending you the first cheque or even sending them out in general man,,,,,,, it’s usually just temp staff and students looking over this stuff,,,, we didn’t print or mail your cheque,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, do you realize how many cheques we’re looking over right now??? I’m on file 5258 and there are plenty more, you cashed your cheque FOUR MONTHS after you came over here to complain. I do Not want to hear it, let me focus on the people who actually haven’t received this shit,,, over half the time whatever issue means you didn’t get your cheque? it’s because whatever fucking. handwritten note you sent us was messy as fuck and literally no one could decipher it properly,, please don’t write in cursive I am begging you do you know how hard it is to rwad that,,,,, do you know how tired I am,,,,,,,,, you’re not the only person venting in the comment section okay whatever ur complaint is I can’t. do anything about it, I can’t fucking fix the economy I can’t get you a job I can’t do anything about your divorce I don’t know where your fucking husband ran off to I don’t know where your cheque is,,, tge people you’re yelling at for being incompetent and failing at their jobs aren’t the same people who sent you ur papers in the first place,,, did you even update your property information in the first pkace?? any information I could possibly pull up for you comes from there I can’t read your mind no one here is a mind reader,,, if u don’t tell us you’ve moved we can’t send ur cheque to you,,,,,,,, wait a fucking second you live in Saskatchewan????? you dont?? qualify for this????? what are you even talking about,,,,,,, listen you can tell me you’re eligible for this all you want but I am not the person who looks into that. please be polite, I get ur pissed off u didn’t get ur money but like,,, there are so so so many reasons why that might be like yeah sure it might be our fault but maybe it got lost in the mail or – have you talked to your spouse? says here they’ve cashed it. please stop yelling at me, whatever it is you’re suggesting would not, in fact, make anything more efficient. I don’t need to know your life story man I’m just tryna make enough to pay for groceries and school okay, I had nothing to do w sending out your cheque I don’t know where it is and you don’t know anything about how any of this works so shove it. Up! your fucking ass
On the other hand if you’ve got a fun email those are great keep up the good work ‘head-full-of-stars’
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this is untagged sorry
The hardest thing for me to grapple with post emotional abuse is coming to terms with how much of it was likely done on purpose, the fact that it WAS actually abuse, and how much it is affecting me years later cause ive never properly addressed it w/ real guidance.
I dont even know how to explain that it’s not even just a matter of like. oh i’m mad/sad this person treated me like shit it’s more like the way I was treated seeps into how I interact with people to this day! but if I like . talk about it i may have to deal w/ assholes who think i couldn’t get over a high school ex or something. god forbid they live through someone completely eroding their sense of self. I can’t even explain how that feels, but it made me suicidal. It felt like I’d only stop feeling like I belonged to her (not with her, TO her) if I were dead. (thankfully it went away). it’s not even about Her as a modern day person, but the construct of her that exists in the past. I never have nightmares where she looks how she actually looks nowadays, it’s only ever how she looked as a teen. When I get triggered because there’s someone who looks like her, it’s the same way. It’s the past version of her that haunts me.
Not to mention how warped my view of sexuality got. I became too eager to sexually please people, im lucky that im in a healthy relationship where im not exploited anymore. I started off associating affection heavily with performing sexual acts… My body doesn’t react to stimulus that used to turn me on. I have a time limit during sex until I’m just not able to continue, regardless of what happened. Idk if it was dysphoria before top surgery but anything involving my chest would make me tear up because of what she did to me. I bend down and pick things up in such a specific way because of how she used to see me as a sex object. She didn’t respect my dysphoria. She touched my chest through my binder or would stick her hands under it, because her pleasure was more important than my comfort.
I put up such a facade of stoicism and strength after breaking up with her because any hint of vulnerability with her had me treated as an inconvenience. I was such a confident and self assured person before I dated her, a defense mechanism for how much I was outcasted by others sure, but I didn’t let people try to get me down. But I slowly let her sand the edges off of me because I felt I would lose her if I didn’t. I was someone who wasn’t afraid of telling people when something was wrong or when I was bothered, but with her I accepted it. I felt resigned to it. She’d lash me into submission.
I always thought maybe she was like that cause she was just an emotionally immature teenager who didn’t know better. But I don’t think so anymore. She admitted to me that she was being demanding and cruel (“pestering”) because she wanted sexual pleasure from me but was so mad that I didn’t have time to invite her over. She lied to my face about respecting whatever decision I made irt leaving her out of my life or letting her back in… Only to guilt trip and try to manipulate me into letting her back in, not taking no for an answer until I told her to back off and blocked her. Most people with shit exes just complain about how much they sucked. I saw her when she was working once years later, froze in a panic, and ran away out of desperation. Her sending me a message to reconnect with me after we broke up while I was working through trauma sent a chill up my spine. that’s not normal.
I won’t ever know her train of thought when we dated. and she would never give me an honest account of that. she may not have calculatedly went “i’ll act like this to make them do that” but she expressed her feelings with the expectation that I’d change my behavior to please her, then lashed out when it didn’t work. I thought she just didn’t want us to argue when we disagreed with something… but getting your partner to shut up about a topic you disagree with them on, then essentially saying fuck you to them when they bring it up again later is… Bad. and I really do mean Shut Up. She’d tell me to drop a conversation at any sign of a disagreement, and I thought this was reasonable because we agreed we wouldn’t talk about religion (she was a christian at the time, i was an atheist and still am one) but it didn’t stop at that.
I have a difficult time processing all of it. I still have a hard time believing she acted the way she did as a conscious choice, especially because of our ages at the time (14-16). I don’t even really know what a reasonable expectation would be for someone to act at that age, because I don’t even remember what it was like. genuinely. When I look back at it all, it feels like there were a few years where someone else was in my body instead of me. I don’t quite remember my thought processes. I remember how I felt, I just don’t feel like my decisions were my own. Just a poor child who I watched go through all of that.
This way longer than I thought it was going to be and I don’t even feel like I scratched the surface of how I’m feeling right now. I just feel damaged and it has nothing to do with her, who she is as a person, right now and more to do with the fact that I feel like a plate that was thrown at a wall, shattered, and somewhat glued back together. I have cracks all over me and it’d be ridiculous to act like I don’t. I’m not a “broken” person per say but I’ve been changed
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