#AND.. SHORT HAIR??? THAT OR ITS TIED BACK!!! BELIEVE WHAT YOU WANT!!! :)

[awwthenticc]

SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE.

[wonysugar]

you know the drill i fear.. BEFORE YOU GUYS YELL AT ME just know that i’m sorry and i’m trying incredibly hard to get all of my drafts done<//3 IT’S HARD WRITING WHEN NO INSPO HITS YOU OKAY… but for now, please accept some of these fresh drabbles, i’m sorryrjrnrnf

now… NOW…… mid 2023 sugar may or may not have possessed me on this fine morning because hellooo i miss short black bob chaewon BAD i need to eat her out and make her feel good desperately!

cw: waxplay, sensory play(??) i have no idea what to call it but she doesn’t let you touch herfkemf, vibrators, very light bondage

i’m so normal about these pictures omg the femme dom ever,,, the powerbottom to have ever powerbottom-ed this earth,,,, chaewon is the definition of cute girlfriend in the streets FREAKY HOE IN THE SHEETS CAUSEEEJFKS???

she has an obsession with your mouth she cannot help it! she just loves using it for her own pleasure i fear… feeling its moist surface on her wet swollen cunt whenever she’s needy for your touchcidkfk moaning at the slight contact :(( i am also a firm believer that she’d guide you to do it the way she likes it, BUT NOT USING WORDS; indeed, she’s perfectly content with forming a rough grip on your hair and pulling on it however she wants to and whenever she wants to. sometimes she even pulls you away from her pussy so just so she can see her wet slick on your stuck-out tongueckdkf looking at the string of mixed saliva and cum left between your muscle and her core…. giggling so hard rn guys

also SHE’D MOAN SO LOUDLY??:((( i know she sounds pretty i KNOW she does,, and so does she! she gets turned on by the sound of her own moaning, it’s only natural. the way your name rolls off her tongue so sweetly as she whines sounds like music to both your ears and hers. she’ll make sure you hear how good you’re making her feel, how good you’re being for herckdmfnd

now,, if we’re looking at the more RISQUÉ aspect of things.. oh she goes nuts i’m afraid.

OMG WHO SAID CANDLEWAX?? no but yeah on the days where she just feels like watching you squirm and struggle under her touch, she’ll just pull out the candlescisndn

NOW WALK WITH ME. she’s sitting in front of you, you’re laid down on the bed and your wrists are tied to the bed frame with her tie or smth because she’s an angry and frustrated office worker in my heart LEAVE ME ALONE. she knows how much you love touching her, and she knows how needy and whiny you get when you can’t. [devil emoji] SO NATURALLY! she has a vibrator nestled in between her legs and pressed onto her clit, barely even visible due to the oversized button up she has ongkemfm and she’s just pouring drops of candlewax on your naked stomach, the sight of you whining both at the delicious pain and the absence of her skin on you.

she’s moaning so loudly and staring at you with such lustfully hooded eyes, making it even harder for you not to wanna break free from the restraint of the tight tie and fuck her better than the vibrator ever will, like she rightfully deserves:((

also she totally degrades you in the process SORRY NOT SORRY!! she makes fun of you for the warm pool growing in between your legs, moaning how dirty and slutty you look getting wet by just watching her get off,, how you’re dripping for her even though she hasn’t even done anything expect burn you ahehehcjdkd calling you a ‘desperate fucking bitch’ and whatnot,,, laughing at you when you start crying and squirming whilst begging for her to untie you,,,,,, I’M UNWELL.

AND IF I SAY THAT SHE’D ALSO SET ASIDE THE VIBRATOR AT ONE POINT AND START SLOWLY FINGERING HERSELF IN FRONT OF YOU, TEASING YOU BY SPREADING HER WET FOLDS SO YOU CAN SEE EVERY LITTLE THING— [GUNSHOTS]

i fear she’d also describe to you how her fingers feel pumping in and out of her and moan your name in the process,, you’re just watching her throw her head back in pleasure as she fingerfucks herself?? oh girl at this point you’re just whimpering and sobbing like the pathetic whore she thinks you are, trying to subtly close your thighs and rub them together for any sort of friction:((

oh selfish chaewon save me…. save me selfish chaewon

[corroded-hellfire]

The Boy Is Mine (Red's Version) - Eddie Munson x Reader

For @carolmunson’s writing event! Thank you for hosting this fun and uniting challenge 🥰

Summary: A romantic evening at Eddie’s trailer where you finally put a long-time dispute to bed.

Words: 2.2k

“Mmm,” Eddie moans as he stretches his arms out over his head. His tight back muscles loosen at the movement, having become stiff from sitting in one place so long to watch a movie. This is the third week in a row you two have had Star Wars Date Night and even though you both love it, neither of you realized how sore you’d get sitting in one spot for hours or how many times you would need to get up and use the bathroom during the long films.

Your boyfriend looks down at you, where you’re resting your head on a throw pillow in his lap. He smiles as he gently traces his fingertips down your cheek.

“Ready for bed, beautiful?” he asks.

You roll onto your back to look up at him. A rogue curl falls down in your direction and you take the opportunity to wrap it around your pinky.

“I guess so,” you say. 

Reluctantly, you sit up and push yourself off the couch, allowing your boyfriend to do the same. The whole walk down the hallway to his bedroom, Eddie has his hands on you: gripping your hips, sliding them along your waist, tugging at the hem of your denim shorts. 

“I’m capable of taking my own clothes off, you know,” you muse as you step into his room.

“I know. I just think I can do it better,” Eddie mumbles against your shoulder, pressing kisses there and up the side of your neck. 

“Can I change into my pajamas and then you can grope me? Does that seem fair?” you ask. 

Eddie chuckles and takes a step away from you. The moment you move further away from him though, he grabs his chest and acts as if your distance from him is literally killing him. 

“Aw, damn,” you mutter as you pick your bag up from the floor and set it on Eddie’s bed. “Looks like I killed my boyfriend.” 

The overdramatic metalhead drops to his knees, making the thin walls of the trailer shutter, and crawls towards you as if you’re an oasis and he’s been in the desert for days. 

“Need…my…girl.”

Rolling your eyes at your boyfriend’s theatrics, you tug your shirt off over your head. Eddie’s eyes go wide and watch you like a hawk as you take off your bra and jeans as well. You slip an oversized Metallica t-shirt on and put your clothes back in the bag. Something pink and sparkly catches your eye and you perk up.

“Oh!” You pull out a small notebook, covered in stickers in all its glittery glory. 

“What’s that?” Eddie asks, finally standing up from the floor. He tosses his own shirt aside and undoes his handcuff belt. 

“Just something to prove to you that I’ve been right all along!” You point the notebook at him like it’s an accusatory finger as he strips down to his boxers.

“About?” Eddie asks. He grabs an old yellow scrunchie you left over a while ago and ties his hair back at the nape of his neck. 

Instead of answering him, you sit down on the bed and turn yourself until your ass is up against Eddie’s pillows. Then you lay back and kick your feet up to rest against the wall, leaving your body at a ninety-degree angle. 

Eddie situates himself the opposite way, his body lying the typical way with his head coming to rest right next to yours. 

“This,” you say as you open the notebook and begin to flip through the pages. Eddie tilts his head up to try and get a look but all he can see is swoopy handwriting in black ink scrawled across the white pages. “is the diary I kept in fifth grade.”

“Oh God,” Eddie says, running a hand down his face.

“I found it when I was cleaning my room this morning. Maybe now you’ll believe me!” you exclaim, and you begin to flip the pages with more fervor. “Aha! Here we are. My eleventh birthday.”

“Babe, you only invited me to your birthday party because you invited the whole class. It’s okay.”

“No!” you groan in exasperation. “I mean, yes, I did invite the whole class but that’s not why I wanted you there.”

“Right,” Eddie says, sarcasm dripping from every syllable, “it’s because you had a crush on me.”

“Ugh!” The fact that he doesn’t believe you drives you up the wall. But now you’re holding proof. It’s right here in black and white—and clearly not in your current handwriting. “Prepare to be proven wrong.”

You clear your throat before you begin to read your pre-teen self’s diary entry. 

“Dear diary, it was a pretty great birthday. I got a new bike from mom and dad. Chrissy gave me some new gel pens and Heather got me a Rick Springfield poster. But the best part of all was EDDIE! Duh! I didn’t see him when I cut my cake so later I grabbed a cupcake and punch to bring to him. I found him in my treehouse and we sat there for a while. Together. Just us! I wanted him to kiss me soooooooo bad but I knew he wouldn’t. It’s dumb to think he’d like me the way I like him. I can’t help it though. I just wanna take Eddie Munson’s face in my hands and kiss him until our lips fall off.”

You stop reading when you and Eddie begin laughing. 

“See?” you say, nudging Eddie’s shoulder with your own. “I bet you don’t even remember that day.”

Your boyfriend lets out a loud bark of laughter before raising his eyebrows at you.

“Wanna bet?”

The backyard is set up with long tables covered in colorful plastic tablecloths, grilled meats or snack foods laid out for guests to nibble on. The day is bright and sunny, but not blisteringly hot to be outside. It seems like half of your class is in the bounce house as you walk past it. A couple of your friends call your name, urging the birthday girl to come join them, but you have other plans. 

In one hand you hold a cupcake and the other a cup of Hawaiian Punch. You couldn’t find where your mom put the extra cups from this party, so you had to settle for the Fairy Princess themed paper cups you had from last year’s birthday. 

Squinting to keep the sun from your eyes, you take another scan of the backyard. Some neighbors talking by your dad over by the grill, a few of your aunts walking inside the house with your mom, and kids scattered around the yard like dice thrown across a Yahtzee board. But not the one kid you’re looking for. Still, you don’t give up. He was here before and you’re sure you would’ve noticed if he just left. 

As you come to the back corner of your yard, it’s both cooler and much quieter. The shade from the looming maple tree brought a sense of calmness to the small, tucked away area. You take a few steps closer to the trunk of the tree and when you look up you see the treehouse you built with your dad and uncle two summers ago. And hanging out the front entrance of your hideaway fort you see two dirty white sneakers, one looking a little worse for wear than the other. 

You walk around to the other side of the tree where planks of wood are hammered into the thick bark; your makeshift ladder. It’s a little difficult to climb with the confection in one hand and a full cup in the other, but you manage to do it without dropping or spilling either. Eddie’s head turns to you as you climb up the hole in the floor behind him. One corner of his mouth quirks into a smile and it has butterflies rushing throughout your stomach. 

Determined to not make a fool out of yourself in front of the boy you have a massive crush on, you set the cupcake and beverage down as you pull your body all the way up into the tree house. Once you’re securely up, you scoot over to sit next to Eddie. Your legs dangle next to his out what could be considered the front door of the fort. 

“What’re you doing up here?” Eddie asks, not unkindly but not exactly warmly either. His eyes never meet yours, instead gazing out ahead, in the direction of children laughing. 

“You missed cake,” you tell him. 

Eddie looks at you from the corner of his eyes and you realize he’s trying to determine if you’re being sincere or not. Anger settles in your veins and you’re suddenly ready to single-handedly take on any bullies that pick on this sweet boy. 

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” Eddie finally replies. 

If only he knew how wrong he truly was. It seems like you’re always aware of where Eddie is in relation to you. Whether it be seated behind you in class, down the table at lunch, or halfway across your own backyard. 

“Well, I did,” you say, trying to quell the heat in your cheeks at your response. “And I brought you this.” You reach behind you and grab the Hawaiian Punch in the Fairy Princess cup. The reminder of what you’re giving him this beverage in has your cheeks getting warmer again though. “I ran out of like, nice cups, is this okay?”

Eddie takes it from you and raises it to his eye level to inspect the different creatures depicted on it. An amused smile graces his lips, but he doesn’t laugh. 

“It’s good. Fairies are cool.”

His response makes you feel lighter as you wrap your fingers around the polk-a-dotted cupcake wrapper and present the vanilla dessert to him.

“And this,” you say. 

The boy takes a sip of the punch and sets it down next to him before accepting the cupcake. 

“Thank you,” Eddie says softly. It’s the quietest you’ve ever heard him speak before. 

“No problem,” you answer, just as quietly. 

Slowly, Eddie peels the wrapper from the cupcake and takes a large bite that envelops half the treat in his mouth. As he chews, you notice he has a little vanilla frosting smeared above his top lip. You can’t help but smile as you gesture to the area on his pretty, pale face.

“You’ve got a little…”

Eddie sticks his tongue out and runs it around his lips, cleaning off the mess. 

“Actually,” Eddie says, tilting his head as he looks at you, “so do you.”

A frown of confusion creases your brow. 

“But I didn’t have a bite.” Your hand goes up and feels across your face. “Where?”

“Riiiiight…” Eddie swipes his pinky through the white frosting and dots it at the very tip of your nose. “There!”

The way your face crinkles up makes Eddie’s heart beat a little faster. And when your laughter joins in, Eddie swears he’s in love. 

“I can’t believe you thought I didn’t like you,” Eddie says, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Honestly, I thought you liked Chrissy.” You roll on your side and nudge Eddie’s earlobe with your nose. “That’s why I tried to copy her look as much as I could for a while. Didn’t work that well, but I tried.”

“Chrissy?” Eddie asks, tilting his head to look at you. 

“Mhmm,” you affirm, not meeting his eyes. “Actually, I thought maybe you liked her again last year when you guys were chemistry partners. Or maybe that you’d never stopped liking her. I mean, she is really pretty and the sweetest girl, and—”

Eddie stops you with a gentle hand caressing the side of your face. He turns on his side so you’re nose to nose and slowly swipes his thumb across your cheekbone.

“Aw, don’t be like that. That’s not even true. I didn’t like her last year. Or in fifth grade. Or ever. I’ve liked you since the fifth grade, though.”

You slip off of the bed and rotate yourself so you can lay by Eddie’s side. He tucks you under his arm and presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Sorry,” you say softly. “Guess I had a throwback moment after reading that adolescent angst.” 

“It’s okay. It’s not like I never get insecure.”

“Or jealous,” you add, but with a small smirk. 

“I guess, yeah,” Eddie agrees, cheeks flushing pink at the admission. 

“And possessive,” you say, tightening your grip on your man.

Now, Eddie has an amused expression on his face as he studies you. 

“And you like that?” he asks.

“It’s hot,” you explain bluntly with a shrug. 

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly and presses his lips against your temple, leaving them there for a moment. 

When he reluctantly pulls away, he reaches behind him and turns off the light. The moment he’s back down beside you, you’re clinging to Eddie like a koala bear. He doesn’t mind one bit as he holds you just as securely. 

After a little while, his eyes start to slip closed. But before he falls fully asleep, he feels your leg slip in between his. Your knee lifts until your thigh is pressed right up against his cock. Suddenly, he’s not so sleepy anymore. 

“If you don’t stop, we’re gonna have a problem,” Eddie grumbles out, making you giggle. 

“I would hardly call that a problem.”

[literallyalbertcamus]

okay literally god bless you for writing about angus tully 🧎‍♀️

angus and reader have a “study date” but its just an excuse for mr tully to admire and try and make out with reader :3

(if you’re comfortable writing ofc 🫶)

Can’t Take My Eyes off You – Angus Tully.

(This is the first request for a headcanon i writte since i was twelve, a little short but i did my best. There where 910 words in spanish)

Going to the library that day had been his idea, you were stressed about a chemistry exam, twenty-five percent of your semester grade, which wouldn't have been much if it weren't for your normally deplorable grades in the subject. That's why Angus, being the attentive boyfriend that he is, proposed to help you study. So now there you were, probably the only two people besides the librarian in the building, at one of the back tables hidden behind shelves full of books, side by side with your books and notebooks open on the table.

You two had been in that situation for at least an hour, when you had finally begun to understand the subject matter so he leaned back in the seat with his arms crossed behind his head watching you write flash cards so as not to forget what you had struggled so hard to understand and what Angus had so patiently explained to you. Your hair was tied back but a lock of it fell over your forehead, you were wearing Angus' favorite mini skirt, a burgundy color that contrasted beautifully with your legs in his opinion, you were also wearing a new perfume your mother had given you that smelled exquisite, the last two buttons of your black blouse were undone and a third was threatening to come undone as you bent over to write on the flash cards. Practically a pleasure to look at in your opinion.

Sometimes it was hard for him to believe that you had agreed to be his girlfriend, and watching the sunlight fall on your face softly there in the library was one of those times.

“Do you have much left to write?” He asked you leaning over your shoulder.

“No, just three more cards” you muttered.

He stood in that position watching you write, your handwriting was curved and hurried, not very neat compared to his but he liked that, how authentic you were compared to his world and everything around him.

“Stop looking at me, i need to finish this”

At that he just smiled and moved closer to you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I like your perfume” he murmured into your neck and wrapped his arms around your torso, sometimes he liked to do that when you were together, just hug you and hide his face in your neck “ ‘s really nice... smells like candy”

Your fruity perfume represented exactly your scent in his personal opinion, completely sweet. The truth is that Angus absolutely adored everything about you, from your perfume to the way your hands fit his, or how good your lips felt against his, you were basically God in his eyes and could do no wrong.

“Enough! I need to finish this” you let out a giggle trying to get a little away from him to continue writing “come on, Angus I'm serious!”

“Nop, you’re just so sweet i want to eat you”

He began to spread little pecks down your neck, at first soft and not so close together, at first they caused you nothing but tickles and a slight blush because it was harmless, just his arms around you and his slender long fingers firm on your waist, so you managed to finish one of the cards, then when you leaned over to take another of the pink sheets of paper, Angus took the opportunity to move a little closer, and when you sat down the side of your back was on his chest now leaning towards your body.

“You're such a tease” you mumbled looking sideways at him, his smile bigger after your comment.

“Not my fault i have a total babe in my arms”

That made you stop writing and slowly turn around, his cheeks red as he tried not to start laughing.

“Oh my god! Stop it!”

“Only if you kiss me, doll”

Now the one who was red was you, trying to refocus on the sheet in front of you. Calling you nicknames like "doll" or "baby" had started after one afternoon at the pub where you two overheard a group of Barton boys talking about what girls liked, or at least what girls liked according to them, a group of teenage boys who had never interacted with a girl their age and who's only knowledge of the female body came from the hands of playboy.

You thought it was over when you were halfway through the important information, when you felt Angus' lips on your neck again, this time leaving wet kisses for every corner he had access to, you still weren't going to let him get away with it because that test was really important and you needed to learn that information at least until you finished it. That worked for a while until you were done with that card.

“Oh!”

That vicious bastard bitted you.

“Come on, you've learned all that already! Let me take care of you” he whimpered against your neck, his hands roaming your waist and what he could reach of your legs “You're so smart, there's no way you're going to fail that stupid test!”

“Well... maybe, maybe i can have a little break” you bargained, letting yourself be tempted by the kisses that trailed up from your collarbone to your cheek and down again “But! If you leave a hickey its over” you threatened him seriously as you turned around to drape your leg over his and sit nicely in his lap.

“Yes ma’am”

“Now stop teasing and kiss me right, pretty boy”

[cool-fancier]

Fractured Promises

Synopsis: As you wait for Lisa to come home, the weight of her absence and rising fame threatens to shatter your relationship, forcing a heart-wrenching confrontation that will change everything forever

Word Count:3k

There's a heaviness in the air as you sit on the couch, staring at the door. It's become an all-too-familiar routine—the waiting. The long hours of wondering whether tonight would be the night Lisa finally walked through that door, or if you'd fall asleep alone again, surrounded by the silence of a life once shared.

You glance at your phone—still no message. She'd said she'd be home tonight, that she missed you. That small message had tugged at your heart in ways you weren't proud of. You wanted to believe her—needed to believe her. Because that's what you had always done, even as her promises began to feel as hollow as this apartment.

Lisa wasn't the same girl she was when you first met her, and in your heart, you knew you weren't the same either. She was soaring, her name shining brighter than ever. BLACKPINK was at the pinnacle of global fame, and her solo work was rocketing her even higher. But for every inch of success she gained, it felt like you lost her a little more.

You used to laugh at the thought. The idea of losing Lisa seemed impossible. You were the person she came home to, the one who grounded her when the spotlight felt too bright. But lately, that light had drawn her so far away, you weren't even sure if she remembered what life was like outside of it.

Your thumb scrolls absentmindedly through the old photos on your phone, memories of happier times. The two of you at some tiny café in Seoul, laughing over iced coffee. Her hair was brown then, a soft shade that framed her face perfectly, making her look effortlessly stunning. Back then, her life felt more balanced. The group was busy, sure, but there was still time for you—time for both of you.

Now? Now, it was all about schedules, meetings, promotions, and collaborations. And each time you tried to talk about it, about how distant everything felt, she'd brush it off. She'd smile that familiar smile, tell you that she just needed to get through this next wave of projects and then things would be better.

But it never got better.

The sound of a key turning in the lock pulls you out of your thoughts. Your heart jumps slightly—hope, it seems, is a stubborn thing. The door opens slowly, and there she is. Lisa steps in, her brown hair loosely tied back, dressed in a casual hoodie and jeans. Her tired eyes meet yours for a brief second before she quickly looks away, closing the door behind her. The excitement you once felt when she came home has long faded into a dull ache.

You want to smile, to tell her how much you've missed her, but the words are stuck somewhere between frustration and sadness.

"Hey," she says quietly, kicking off her shoes and setting her bag down near the door.

"Hey," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

She hesitates for a second, glancing at you, but you can see the exhaustion in her posture, the way her shoulders slump as if the weight of the world is too much to bear. You used to be the one who helped lift that weight, but now you weren't sure she even remembered you were here.

"Long day?" you ask, though you already know the answer.

She nods, moving towards the couch but stopping short of sitting next to you. "Yeah... Jisoo, Jennie, and Rosé—they're all gearing up for a couple of new projects. We've been rehearsing nonstop."

Of course. The group. The other girls were like sisters to her, and you had always respected that. But it felt like they had become her world, leaving little room for you. And it wasn't their fault, not really. Jennie, Rosé, and Jisoo—they were her family, and in some twisted way, you envied them. They got her time, her attention, her laughter, while you were left with the fragments of whatever she had left after the world had taken its share.

You glance at her as she finally sits down at the far end of the couch, as if the space between you is safer that way.

"How was your day?" she asks, but her voice sounds distant, like she's already checked out of the conversation before it even begins.

You shrug, not wanting to get into it. Not wanting to unload the weight of your own loneliness on her shoulders when she already looks like she's carrying so much. But at the same time, the resentment builds, bubbling just beneath the surface.

"Fine, I guess," you reply, the bitterness creeping into your voice despite your efforts to keep it neutral.

She doesn't notice. Or if she does, she's too tired to care. She leans back against the couch, rubbing her temples. You watch her, wondering if you should say something—if tonight's the night you'll finally tell her how you've been feeling. How the distance between you both is growing so wide, you're not sure if you can ever close it again.

But you don't. Because you've had this conversation a hundred times in your head, and it never ends well.

Instead, you sigh quietly and stand up, heading towards the kitchen. Maybe a distraction will help. You pour a glass of water, staring at it as if the answer to all your problems might magically appear at the bottom of the glass.

Behind you, Lisa shifts on the couch, her voice soft and almost apologetic. "I'm sorry I've been gone so much lately."

The words are familiar, rehearsed. You've heard them before. They've lost their meaning.

You set the glass down, turning to face her. "Lisa, we need to talk."

She looks up at you, her eyes wide and slightly panicked, as if she knows exactly where this conversation is going.

"I know," she says quickly, her hands clasping nervously in her lap. "I know I've been... distant. But things are just so crazy right now. The solo stuff, BLACKPINK's comeback, all the projects... It's hard to balance everything."

"And where does that leave us?" The question comes out harsher than you intended, but it's the truth. It's the question that's been gnawing at you for months now.

She flinches slightly, her brows furrowing as she looks down at her hands. "I'm doing this for us. I'm trying to make something—something bigger than just..."

You shake your head, cutting her off. "But what about us? When was the last time we just sat down and talked? When was the last time we spent a night together that didn't feel like I was competing with the rest of the world for a piece of you?"

Her eyes fill with tears, and for a second, the sight of her vulnerability breaks your resolve. But then you remember all the nights you spent waiting for her to come home. All the nights you fell asleep alone in that bed you were supposed to share.

"I'm trying," she whispers, her voice trembling. "I'm really trying."

"But it's not enough, Lisa." The words hang heavy between you, and you can see the way they cut through her. You've never said it out loud before—not like this.

She stands up, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to shield herself from the impact. "What do you want me to do?" she asks, her voice breaking. "Quit everything? Stop being me?"

You sigh, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "No, I don't want that. I just want *you*. I want the person I fell in love with. The person who used to come home to me, who made time for me. Not this... version of you that's always somewhere else."

Tears slip down her cheeks, and she wipes them away angrily, as if frustrated with herself for being so emotional.

"I'm still that person," she says softly, but even she doesn't sound convinced.

"No, Lisa. You're not. And maybe that's the problem."

The words hit her like a slap, and she recoils, her eyes wide with hurt. For a moment, you think she might yell, fight back, tell you that you're wrong. But she doesn't. Instead, she just stands there, looking at you with a kind of sadness that breaks your heart all over again.

"What do you want from me?" she asks, her voice small, broken.

"I want you to want this. I want you to want us," you reply, your own voice wavering with emotion. "But I don't know if you do anymore."

"I do," she insists, taking a step towards you. "I do want us. I just... I don't know how to make it work. I don't know how to be everything at once."

You close your eyes, the weight of her words crashing over you. You know she's telling the truth. She's trying. But sometimes, trying isn't enough.

"I don't know if I can keep doing this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lisa's breath hitches, her eyes widening in panic. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I don't know how to be with someone who's never really here."

She stares at you, her tears flowing freely now, but she doesn't move. Doesn't try to close the distance between you.

"I don't want to lose you," she whispers, her voice so fragile it feels like it could shatter at any moment.

But you don't know what to say anymore. Because part of you feels like you've already lost her.

— — — — —

Lisa's tears fall silently now, her hands trembling as she wraps them around her arms. She looks so small, standing there in the dim light of the apartment, and for a moment, you remember the woman she used to be—confident, radiant, always with that playful grin. That version of her feels like a distant memory. The Lisa standing before you is someone else entirely, worn down by the weight of the world she's been chasing.

But it's not enough. Not anymore.

You close your eyes, trying to pull back the anger and hurt, but it bubbles up anyway. "You keep saying you don't want to lose me, Lisa, but that's all it feels like. It feels like I've already lost you."

Her breath catches, and she steps forward, her voice strained. "No, don't say that. I'm here now, aren't I? I came back—"

"Yeah, after how long?" You cut her off, your voice cracking. "After weeks of being gone, of empty promises and silence. I don't know how to do this anymore. I don't know if I even can."

Her face crumples at your words, and it almost breaks you to see her like this, but the hurt inside you is too overwhelming to let her off that easily. You've been patient—too patient, perhaps. You've given everything you could, and yet, here you are, standing on the edge of something that might be too far gone to save.

"Please, let's just talk," she pleads, stepping closer, her brown hair falling in soft waves around her tear-streaked face. "I know I've been absent, I know I haven't been... the partner you deserve. But I'm trying."

"Are you?" The words come out sharper than you intended, but there's no taking them back. "Because all it feels like is that you're trying to be everything for everyone else. For the fans, for the world. But not for me."

She winces at that, her shoulders slumping further as if each word hits her like a blow. "It's not like that. You don't understand—"

"Then help me understand," you say, voice breaking. "Help me understand why I'm always the one waiting for you. Why I'm the one who's always left behind, wondering if this relationship even matters to you anymore."

There's a long, painful silence. Her eyes are glassy, her lips trembling as she tries to form a response. And then, softly, she speaks. "I never wanted it to get like this. I just... I don't know how to balance everything. BLACKPINK, the solo work, my career... I thought I could do it all, but I didn't realize how much I was losing you in the process."

Her words sting because they're true, but they don't fix the damage. They don't change the fact that the loneliness you've felt has consumed you, has eroded the foundation of what used to be such a loving relationship.

"I've been telling myself that it's just temporary," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. "That one day, you'd slow down, and we'd find our way back to each other. But Lisa, I don't even know if I want to wait anymore. I don't know if I can."

She freezes at that, and for a moment, the shock on her face is palpable. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. It's like she's only just realizing how close she is to losing you. How far apart you've drifted.

"I don't want to lose you," she says again, almost like a mantra, as if repeating it enough times will make it true.

"I don't want to lose you either," you admit, the weight of the words pressing down on you. "But I don't even know if you're really here with me anymore."

She takes a step closer, her eyes wide, desperate. "I'm right here. I'm here now. Please, can't we—"

The door suddenly creaks open, and both of you turn to see Jisoo standing in the entryway, her face shadowed with concern. Behind her, Jennie and Rosé linger, clearly hesitant but unwilling to leave Lisa alone in such a vulnerable moment.

"I'm sorry," Jisoo says softly, eyes flicking between the two of you. "We didn't mean to interrupt, but we've been worried."

Lisa wipes at her tears quickly, trying to regain some semblance of composure, but she's still shaking. "It's okay," she whispers, her voice cracking.

You stand there, unsure of what to say or how to react. You know the girls mean well—they've always had Lisa's back—but their presence now feels like a painful reminder of the life she's built outside of you. The life she's chosen over you, time and time again.

Jennie steps forward, her gaze soft but serious. "She's been under so much pressure lately. The expectations are insane, and I know it's not fair to you. But Lisa's been trying. She really has."

You clench your jaw, frustration bubbling up. "It doesn't feel like it. It just feels like she's giving everything to the rest of the world and leaving nothing for me."

Rosé, who's usually the quiet one, speaks up, her voice gentle but firm. "We've all seen it, how much she's struggling. We've been there with her through it all, but... she's not the same without you."

Those words hit hard, but not in the way you expected. They make you realize something painfully obvious—she isn't the same without *you*. And maybe, just maybe, you aren't the same without her, either.

But even if that's true, is it enough?

"I can't keep being the last person on her list," you say quietly, turning to Lisa. "I can't keep feeling like I'm competing with the world for your time. I love you, but this... this isn't working."

Lisa looks like she's about to break, her tears falling freely now. "Please, don't do this," she begs, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm trying, I'll make more time, I'll—"

"You've said that before," you cut her off, the sadness in your voice making it hard to breathe. "And I believed you. But I don't know if I can believe it anymore."

Jisoo and Jennie exchange a glance, as if they're not sure whether to step in or let the two of you work this out. Rosé stays by the door, her eyes filled with sympathy but helplessness.

Lisa's hands reach out, trembling as she grabs your arm. "I'll do whatever it takes. Please, just don't leave."

Her words hang in the air, thick with desperation, but you know the truth. You've known it for a while now, even if it hurts to admit it.

"I'm not leaving," you say, your voice soft. "But maybe... maybe we need to take a step back. I don't want to lose you, but I can't keep waiting for something that might never come."

The devastation on Lisa's face is almost too much to bear. Her lips tremble as she tries to speak, but no words come out. She's always been strong, always put together, but right now, she looks shattered.

"I don't want this to be the end," she whispers, barely audible.

"Neither do I," you say, stepping back, creating a space between you both that feels impossibly wide. "But I can't keep holding on to something that's slipping away."

You turn towards the door, and as you step past Jisoo, Jennie, and Rosé, you hear Lisa's soft sobs behind you, the sound breaking your heart all over again. You've never walked away from her before. You've always stayed, always waited.

But this time, you're not sure what's left to wait for.

— — — — —

You find yourself outside, the cold air biting at your skin, and for the first time in a long time, you feel the weight of the decision settling in your chest. You love her—you always will. But love isn't always enough, and that's the hardest truth to swallow.

Behind you, you hear the door creak open. Lisa stands there, silhouetted by the light from inside, her face pale and tear-streaked. Jisoo is by her side, whispering something you can't hear, and the sight of it—the way her members surround her, protect her—reminds you of the bond she'll always have with them. The life she's chosen.

Maybe it's time for you to start choosing yourself.

As you walk away into the night, the pain gnaws at you, but somewhere deep inside, there's a small flicker of relief. Not because you wanted this, but because you've finally acknowledged the truth.

Lisa was never yours to keep.

And maybe, in letting go, you're finally freeing both of you.

[dwntwn-strnlo]

jackass. [m.st.]

── ⟡˙ ̟ hockey!matthew sturniolo x gn!reader

↳ synopsis. — matt gets into a fight while on the ice

↳ a/n. — getting all my female rage out in this fic bc of ex pookie

↳ requested? — no

↳ cw. — really long, tuff guy matt, profanity, physical fighting, mentions of blood/scarring, slight angst, "y/n" used, verbal argument, un resolved ending (sorry lily 🫶)

"you can't expect to get everything you want, y/n."

"all i expect is for you to not be a fucking jackass."

running your hand through your hair, you began growing nervous. you can see that matt was growing more and more agitated the longer he was on the ice, and luckily chris had caught on enough to the point where he kept looking at you curiously.

once you got a text from nick, whom was currently in the locker room had he just gotten off the ice, you knew you and chris weren't going crazy simultaneously. he had asked you if you knew what was up, and that matt had supposedly been perfectly fine before the game.

watching matt carefully as he runs across the ice, he steals the puck and heads for the goal. finally relaxing, you stand up along with the rest of the crowd, fueling on excitement for your boyfriend.

as he nears an appropriate spot to shoot, his feet get kicked out from under him. luckily he catches himself, but he lost the puck. his eyes grow wide when he finds the kid on the opposing team who illegally knocked matt over, taking the puck back.

you started to panic as matt started to panic. it looked as if his mind was racing and then flatlined in the matter of a second. not processing it as he skates up to the kid in red, body checking him to the ice.

it takes seconds for matt to land on top of him, punching him in the nose and dripping blood onto the ice. he's only able to land one punch before chris is pulling him back up to his feet. it takes everything in matt not to push off his brother in fear that he'd get dragged into the fight.

chris drags matt back several feet, trying to get him to cool off. but the kid with the last name miraz stitched on the back comes flying forward, blood dripping down his nose and rage painted on his face.

he throws a punch to matts cheek, cutting it quick enough to hit him again in the nose before the ref pulls him back.

"matthew sturniolo, 5 minute penalty for fighting." the ref calls out over the speakers. "cameron miraz, 5 minute penalty for fighting. 2 more for instigating."

"fuck." you whispered to yourself. not sure whether or not you should be pissed or concerned. eyeing the clock, you find that intermission is in a short time, so you believe that'll be your nearest chance to talk to matt.

matt skates over to the penalty box, face still hot in anger. he pulls his helmet off and drops his head back before looking ahead again. finding chris pointing his pointer finger at him, clearly annoyed, but still washed with concern for his brother. you can't distinguish what words hes using to scold matt, but you can tell it pisses him off.

you can't seem to keep your eyes on the ice for the rest of the period, your eyes stuck on the coffee-haired boy with his arms crossed over his chest.

soon enough he's let back out on the ice, though there's only a minute and a half left. you can tell his body is less frustrated, but it doesn't shake the fact that he just hit someone.

as the clock hits its final seconds, you stand up, walking down to the locker rooms to wait impatiently for you boyfriend to enter.

as the buzzer sounds, the team starts flooding in heading off into the locker room for intermission. looking seemingly defeated by the currently tied game. this game could go either way, and that's leaving them on edge.

matt's one of the last people off the ice, following closely behind chris in silence. chris meets your eyes with a shrug before disappearing into the locker room.

you're quick to grab matt, pulling him towards you-carefully as he still has his blades on.

there's still dried, as well as slightly fresh blood on his face from where he was hit in the nose and on his cheekbone. you figured that one would scar if he didn't get it taken care of soon. his emotions looked mix, leaving you struggling to figure out what he's thinking.

"matt." your murmured, trying to get his light blue eyes to meet yours. "hey, look at me." your voice was low and demanding, but you couldn't help but let it stay laced with panic.

his eyes slowly meet yours, his lips pressed in a firm line. he doesn't want to talk, and normally you'd respect that but right now you're worried and pissed and just want to make sure that he's okay.

"what's your problem?" you bit, crossing your arms over your chest.

matt looked taken back, astonished even that you came at him like that. "what are you talking about." he furrowed his brows, eyes finally glued on yours.

"baby this is your third fight this season, they're going to fucking suspend you." you sounded harsh, but you felt as if it was necessary in the moment to try and knock some sense into him.

he crossed his arms too, mirroring your image. "why do you care if i get suspended? that's not going to effect you."

letting out a breath of air, you squeezed your eyes shut for several seconds. "because you're my boyfriend, and i love and care about you." you mumbled, "i know that getting suspended would effect you, and i don't want to see you in a position like that."

"you can't expect to get everything you want, y/n." he whispered, his voice dropping significantly. struggling to find a place in his heart to argue with you about this.

"all i expect is for you to not be a fucking jackass." you snapped.

matt's eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing. trying to find the right words to say. he suddenly felt small under your hot gaze, though he was significantly larger in his hockey equipment.

pressing your lips together in a line, you started to feel bad, but you still had a point to get across. "i don't know what happened today, but you're at the point where you need to learn to walk away and be the bigger person." you said, trying to meet his eyes again, which now dart around the hall. looking everywhere but you.

"he fucking tripped me." he mumbled, looking at your for a single second.

"so?" you queried. "you play hockey for gods sake. you get tripped all the time."

he squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in a breath of air before looking at you again. "i'm not gonna stand here and listen to you beat down on me." he said, his voice wary. "if you don't wrap it up i'm going back and we can talk about this later." he hushed, gesturing to the locker room.

staying silent, you try thinking about what to say. clearly he doesn't want to listen to you right now, and you want to respect that. you stare at him intently, eyes drifting down to the still slightly bleeding gash on his cheek.

"get that cleaned up, and good luck with the rest of the game." you mumbled, waiting for a response before you walk off.

matt nods, and you step away, nearing the corner when he speaks up. "i love you, baby." he says.

"i love you too..." you turn your head to look at him, mumbling the same words back before disappearing around the corner.

TAGLIST

@thetriplets3 @stxrniqlo @ifilwtmfc @iha8you @oneirophobic @20nugs @gracietaylorsversions @fenoy7 @mlimmm @prettysturniolo @ssturniolo @gabbylovesreading @oh-toseewithoutmy-eyes @matthewmurdockswife @jellybeanbby @slaysturniolo @iheartshifting @mxqdii @luvsturniolo @lvrsparadise @partoftoofuckinmanyfandoms

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

Ok. I have a request took me a lot of courage to finally request and shat myself a couple times but anyway! A one shot where choso lives in y/ns dorm with them and he was like doing his hair and kept messing up and gave up and started crying (I FEEL LIKE THATS SOMETHING HED DO THE POOR BOY:() thennnn y/n walks in their dorm and sees him crying and then comforts him and does his hair for him!!

IF THAT AIN'T LOVE THEN I DON'T KNOW WHAT LOVE IS!

synopsis// choso is having an off day.

➚ pairing// choso x gn!reader ➚ word count// 1.4k

contents// frustrated/sad choso? idk just some hurt/comfort in a way! fluff?? could be read as either platonic or romantic doesnt really matter i supposeeee? i think it kinda reads more romantic tho

notes// anon ur actual fucking MIND. i was moved. literally right after reading ur request i opened up my notes and went to fucking WORKKK!!!! anyway sorry its so kinda all over the place but i hope u like it and it lived up to ur expectations!! n also sorry to everyone else for posting a oneshot mid smau its short n cute okay (AND ITS FUCKING CHOSO SO LIKE CMON???) i couldnt help myself !! also the title is lyrics from cupid's chokehold by gym class heroes... okay bye!

Sharing a dorm with Choso was heavenly.

Because of your conflicting schedules, half the time, you rarely actually saw each other. But even when you did, he was the type of roommate to keep to himself; he has his side of the room, and you have yours. Of course, you two talked here and there; he was actually pretty nice company whenever you two were actually in the room at the same time. But more often than not, the only time you would see him was late at night when you were just getting in to go to sleep.

Either way, the point is, you never really saw him around much. Choso was always quick and effective, so by the time you would head back to your dorm after a few of your classes, he would just be heading out or have already left.

Usually, his alarm would go off an hour before his classes, which is ample time for him. He’s done his routine hundreds of times before—doing his hair and eyeliner is practically muscle memory, and at this point he's sure he could do it in his sleep. but not today, apparently. Today his alarm goes off late—half an hour late. Which Choso isn’t panicked by, only slightly frustrated, but it's fine. That still leaves him another half an hour to get ready, so there's still plenty of time given that it only takes him 10–15 minutes to get ready, so it's fine. Everything is fine; he repeats it in his head like a mantra, like if he thinks it and says it enough, he’ll actually believe it.

Choso quickly dresses, then sits at his desk, where a little mirror sits. He sighs as he flips on a lamp and grabs his eyeliner. He doesn’t even have to think about it, instinctively taking the cap off and bringing it to his eye, only for it to crumble as it meets his waterline. Choso cusses under his breath as he blinks, attempting to get whatever fell into his eye out. When that doesn't work, he rubs his eye, only for it to spread eyeliner all across his eye and cheek. He groans, grabbing a cloth to wipe it off with, and once his face is clean, he doesn't even bother trying with his eyeliner again—looking at the time, he’s already wasted more than he wanted doing that. He’ll just do his hair and leave, or else he’ll be late.

Choso stills for a moment, forcing himself to take a deep breath to try and calm the nerves and frustration simmering beneath his skin—it's fine. He nods. Now somewhat calmer, he grabs his hair ties and gets to work… only for one of them to break as he’s trying to put his hair through it. Choso stares at himself in the mirror, eyes narrowed and swallowing harshly, as he desperately tries to ignore the rising heat going to his cheeks.

Whatever.

It's fine.

He’ll just do the other side of his hair...only for the same thing to happen. Choso can actively feel his heart racing—it's pounding against his chest and ringing in his ears—and he’s already too far gone to notice or even stop the tears from falling down his cheeks. He doesn’t really know why he’s actually crying, if he’s being honest. It’s not like this is the end of the world; he knows that, yet he can't stop himself. Too many things have gone wrong, and he’s barely woken up. First, his alarm goes off late, which isn't the most horrible thing within itself, but then his eyeliner crumbles and gets in his eye, and when he tries to wipe it away, it instead smears on his face. Then he rubs his face raw, trying to get it off, and now he can't do his fucking hair because his hair ties suddenly decided to disintegrate and snap in half.

He messily wipes at his tears and tries inhaling deeply for air in a feeble attempt to calm himself the tiniest bit down. It doesn't do anything. In fact, it makes things worse. His tears fall harder, and he’s choking in shallow breaths of air. If anyone walked in right this moment, they’d think something horrible happened, like one of his brothers died. and it's just his luck, or a very obvious lack thereof, when you walk in. Choso immediately starts scrambling to wipe his tears away and hide his face from you as you drop your things in shock—you hadn’t expected him to still be in the dorm, let alone be here crying.

“Holy shit, Choso, are you okay? What's wrong? Did something happen?” You panic, immediately running to his side.

He doesn’t say anything; he just takes in and lets out shaky breaths as he shakes his head, one arm outstretched to keep you at arm's length.

You frown and look around. For what? You’re not sure. Part of you thinks if you look hard enough, you'll find why he’s crying, but all you see are snapped hair ties, a crumbled, unsharpened eyeliner pencil, and a cloth full of eyeliner. That’s when it all starts to make sense. You smile softly at him, who's still hiding his red tear-stained face from you, before you grab his comb and a new pair of hair ties from his desk.

Choso doesn’t know what you're doing when he hears you shuffling around, and he refuses to meet your gaze, filled to the brim with embarrassment at having been caught crying, but his head involuntarily snaps up, looking at you through the mirror, when he feels you start to brush his hair. You're already staring back at him and flashing him a warm smile, not saying a word as you continue to detangle his hair.

“You don't have to do this,” he sniffles, finally calming down enough to say something.

"I know I don't," you shrug. "But I also know it sucks when it seems like nothing is working or going to plan, so..."

"I can do it myself-“

"Choso, just let me do this for you, please.”

He stares at you for a moment, studying your face as if trying to find something, and when he finds nothing but your soft eyes and willingness—your desire—to do this for him, he sighs and nods. You beam and gleefully get back to work on his hair, and Choso finds that he’s no longer embarrassed by being seen crying but rather by the fact he feels like a doll—but the worst part? It's kind of nice.

He likes having someone do this for him with no hesitation; he likes the way your fingers carefully rake through his hair to ensure there's no tangles even though you just combed it; he likes the way you don't tie the ponytails too tight like he usually does, which only results in a pounding headache he can't get rid of; he likes all of it.

He likes all of it so much so that he finds himself closing his eyes in complete bliss, drowning in your gentle touches. You poof up one of his ponytails a bit, ready to tell him you're done, when you look into the mirror and notice his eyes closed, looking like he’s in a whole other world. You can't fight your smile off as you play with his ponytail for a bit longer before slowly wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder.

“What do you think?” You whisper, your breath softly fanning against his ear.

Choso opens his eyes, surprised to see you pretty much hugging him from behind, yet he doesn't hate it, not one bit. Too caught up about how much he does not hate this; he doesn't respond, and it makes you nervous.

“Sorry… I know they don't look exactly like how you usually do them, but-“

"No, no,” he cuts you off quickly. “They look amazing... Thank you, y/n...”

You smile, happy with his answer, as you untangle yourself from him and stand up. “You should head out now, Choso; you're late.”

He blinks, totally forgetting about class, and hurriedly stands up. "Right, thank you again,” is all he’s saying before rushing out the door.

You giggle slightly before yawning and making your way to your bed, ready for your usual nap, when Choso comes rushing back into the dorm again. You stare at him wide-eyed, and he simply stares back.

You furrow your eyebrows, confused, and are about to ask if he's okay when suddenly he blurts out:

"I wouldn’t mind if you did my hair again.”

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[hiraizyo]

i’m not here, even though you see me

pairing: kim minjeong x female reader

synopsis — minjeong has been your savior time and time again, no matter the pain it brings both you and her. but she’d do it all for you, even if it felt like she was burning herself alive.

tags — angst, hurt no comfort, mature language, implied drug abuse, nonceleb!au

now playing: it’s all my fault, take care

a/n: sooo another attempt at writing angst 😞 minjeong my baby :( i’m sorry y’all, kinda wanted to try experimenting with different topics ??? short cause i just did this as a writing exercise

the lock of the door clicked as minjeong turned the key in its hole, the sound echoing as she pushed the door open timidly. she had used the spare key you’d given her a couple years ago, closing the door behind her once she was inside.

your apartment was dark and eerily quiet. minjeong treaded with caution as she called out your name, but there was no reply. she glanced around the apartment, and she would’ve thought the place was abandoned had it not been for the messy state of the kitchen as she passed by.

minjeong’s heart heavily thumped in her chest, knowing you and her had been down this road before.

she stepped forward again, slow and hesitant.

“yn?” she called once again, her hand clutching the key tight in a fist. there was a shuffle sound coming from the sitting area, then a loud crash, as if something had been dropped.

hastily, minjeong strode over to where the sound had come from, finding you with your back facing her and hunched over a fallen cabinet. your body moved about in a frenzy, unaware of the girl.

“hey,” her voice was light. “yn, can we talk?”

you didn’t bother to face her, responding in a rough manner. “what are you doing here?” your hands filtered through the draws of another cabinet. they were desperate, urgent.

the blonde sighed, watching you. she knew it then, you’d relapsed. she didn’t want to believe it, not after how far you’d come, not after how the last time she nearly lost you.

minjeong pocketed the keys so her hands were free and took two steps forward. “aeri called me. she said— she said you’d been using again.”

even saying the words left a bitter taste in her mouth. how could you?

you froze at her words, momentarily stopping your search. glancing over your shoulder, you noticed minjeong’s timid behavior.

it wasn’t uncommon for her to come looking for you, especially in times like this. it wasn’t the first, and it definitely wasn’t the second. you’d been here before, whether it was coming down from a high, or being plagued by the withdrawal symptoms — minjeong was by your side.

you faced her, eyes hard. “aeri needs to learn to keep her mouth shut.”

minjeong sighed again and walked closer until she was a few feet away, her eyebrows knitting together. “she’s just worried for you.”

and frankly, she was too.

you rolled your eyes and attempted to walk past her, wanting to make your way to the bathroom. minjeong gripped onto your arm, her touch feeling like a fire on your skin.

minjeong didn’t want this to be true. still, she at least hoped you’d admit it to her.

“hey.” she said lowly, “are you?”

she didn’t have to ask the full question for you to understand.

you glared at her, narrowing your eyes, feeling like you were being observed under a microscope. it left an itch on your skin. her tone was far from accusatory, but you were on edge.

“no, i’m not. fuck— why would you even ask me that?” you fumed, looking at her in scrutiny.

minjeong wanted to believe you, she really did, but your pupils were small, the shirt you wore hung baggy on you as if you’d had a sudden drop in weight. there were bags under your eyes too, a clear sign that you hadn’t been sleeping. your hair was messy, tied in a loose ponytail with the front strands falling out of place.

what really caught her attention though was the look of desperation in your eyes, as if you were scouring — feening for your fix. minjeong thought perhaps that was what you’d been searching for when she walked in.

the korean softened her gaze, “don’t lie to me.”

“i’m not lying.” you stressed, leveling your eyes with her. minjeong didn’t look convinced, and it angered you. “you believe your friend over me?”

she shook her head, pleading for you to be honest with. “i don’t— that’s not..” minjeong swallowed hard, “be honest with me, yn. please.”

minjeong’s distress clawed at your heart, but you didn’t owe her an explanation, nor did you owe her the truth. the very fact that she’d come here over aeri’s assumptions had you feeling like you couldn’t be trusted. you were angry at her, but mostly at yourself, for all your hard work to get sober was fruitless. that frustration came out in the worst way, taking it out on the girl before you.

you harshly pulled your arm away, “go fuck yourself.”

minjeong’s eyes widened, her hand falling. she turned quickly to watch as you stomped into the bathroom and shut the door behind you. her body flinched at the loud noise, but she calmed her racing heart, following in your direction.

she wiggled the doorknob to find it locked. minjeong knocked once, lightly, with caution. there was no answer.

the second time she knocked, it was louder and had more force to it. she attempted to listened through the door — for what, she wasn’t sure, but minjeong could hear muffled sounds of your footsteps and the bathroom cabinet opening.

“can you open the door?”

you shut your eyes, angrily yelling. “leave me the fuck alone, minjeong!”

minjeong dropped her head against the door. she mumbled quietly, but you’d still heard it through the wooden surface. “when have i ever left you?”

the girl was right, there had never been a time where she has ever left you.

minjeong was devoted, determined, to help, even when you treated like she was meaningless to you. she’d come back, her faith in you unwavering. she was strong, and you only wished that you could find such strength in yourself.

your hands gripped the sink, knuckles turning white. “you should,” you replied, giving up on searching for what you craved. the cabinet was empty, you’d forgotten minjeong had cleared it out months ago. “you’d be better off.”

“don’t say that.” minjeong shook her head furiously, “please, just open the door.”

her voice croaked, tears filling up in her eyes.

the silence was deafening as minjeong slide down until she sank onto the floor. the side of her body leaned against the door as she waited until you were ready, until you’d finally come to your senses.

inside the bathroom, you looked up at yourself in the mirror, and what you saw, was a poor excuse of a human being.

you felt pathetic.

this wasn’t fair to minjeong, you knew that. this was hurting her, every time you’d crash at her place sleeping off a high, every time she’d find you passed out in your room, every time she’d come running to you over a relapse, she was there. always.

you and minjeong were sort of like parallel lines; always together but never meant to touch, never meant to be as one. it just wouldn’t work.

similarly, you were more than friends, but less than lovers. minjeong was someone you needed in your life, as did she. you grew together, weaving through life as just you and her.

you had a language only the two of you spoke, a language of understanding — you loved her, and she loved you.

but it would never be enough.

at least, not in this lifetime.

you continue to stare at your reflection, the bags underneath your eyes, and the way they sunk in. you felt sick to your stomach.

this was who minjeong was fighting for?

not being able to bare the sight of yourself any longer, you sauntered over to the door. you hand hovered over the doorknob, contemplating if you should open it, but you couldn’t — wouldn’t — let minjeong see you like this again.

you fell to the floor, a thud heard on the door as you lay your head against it. minjeong jumped at the sound, alarmed, about to get up, but then she heard your voice.

“jeongie…” you rasped out, palm against the wooden door. “i don’t want to do this anymore.”

minjeong’s body filled with terror. she pushed again, trying to coax you. “open the door.”

you laughed, though your chest felt hollow. tears flowed down your face uncontrollably, and you laughed harder, but it wasn’t long before it turned into a gut wrenching sob.

minjeong hit at the door, the sound reverberating against your ear. she stood up, wiggling the doorknob again, a burning feeling in her chest. she gasped out, her own tears falling.

the door didn’t opened, at least not until a few moments later.

what minjeong found was you, on the floor, sobbing in hysteria. she wasn’t sure if you were laughing or crying, but she could tell, this was your breaking point.

“do you.. do you think,” you sniffled, looking up at the blonde from the floor. “if things were different we — i — would be better?”

minjeong shushed you, and took you in her arms. she cradled your body, holding you tight, afraid to let go. your tears wet her t-shirt, but she didn’t care, all she wanted was for you to be better. her hand ran through your hair as she mumbled words against your ear.

your heart ached, minjeong’s did too.

they beat together in rhythm, slow, steady, like they were one.

(but it would never be enough.)

anyways…. i’ll post some fluff next :3

[thehealthyfearofeverything]

The Kitchen Sink

SYNOPSIS;  “This event was like any other school-sanctioned dance, except sometimes a camera would be shoved into your face.”

Or

You get stuck in a Joker attack.

Chapter Two || Fear Never Fixed Anything.

Warnings: depression, violence, panic attacks. 

It was a charity event, a city-wide raffle for the underfunded schools in Gotham. Three schools were chosen to attend a gala funded by some wealthy families that wanted good publicity. And your small, overcrowded, underfunded school was selected. It was hard to believe.

Yet here you were.

“I’d bet the air smells fresher.” Anessa, or Nettie as she insisted on being called nowadays said. Jamie nodded in agreement bouncing along beside you.

“Like roses and whatever the opposite of blood is.” He added the smile and excitement clear in his voice. Then he paused and gave you a questioning look.

“Does blood have an opposite?” He asked as if you had all the answers to all of his questions. It was a given, over the years you had earned the reputation of being a know-it-all. Still despite the stupid question, you took the time to humor him.

“I don’t know,” you said after a second.

Nettie and Jamie grew up together.

Nettie is a pretty girl with white skin, blue eyes, and blond hair, she was born with albinism. She was wearing the standard school uniform, the white shirt, and khaki-colored skirt, her hair was tied back with a glossy black ribbon, and around her neck hanging limply against her chest were her glasses.

Jamie is high energy, with a bright smile, shining eyes with a face that refuses to let go of its baby fat, and he’s probably the shortest boy in the entire fourth grade. His hair was cut boyishly short, and there was a band-aid over the bridge of his nose. He too was wearing the standard white shirt and khaki-colored pants.  

“ Not bleedin’, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Nettie groaned, she pulled Jamie’s ear who in return pulled her hair. Despite walking faster to get to the yellow school bus, you couldn't stop the smile from forming. Tobey was waiting by the bus looking up at it as if it was some scientific marvel. 

You came to a stop beside the brown-haired boy. “ First time seeing a bus?”

Tobey changed too, he was taller, entering into that gangly limb phase that all adolescent boys seemed to undergo. His hair was longer and shaggier taking the shape of an indecisive mullet. He was wearing a Red Robin-themed bomber jacket over his white uniform shirt, and his pants were riddled with holes and rips. 

You hugged his arm leaning against him and basking in his warmth. Absentmindedly he patted your head. In the distance just a few feet behind you and Toby you could hear Nettie: “ This is why! This is why people think we're dumb!”

Tobey snorted. “Nope, first time seeing one in front of this shithole though.”

A TA hobbled out of the bus and announced that it was time to go.

“I call window seat!” Jamie yelled pushing past you and Tobey. you stumbled and Tobey caught you.

“As if! I'm the older sister so I should have the window seat.”

Jamie blew a raspberry as Nettie bounded after him. You sighed, Tobey sighed too. Huffing you got on the bus with Tobey trailing after you. Technically you were the older sister, but you’ll let Nettie have this. Tobey let you have the window seat, before sliding into the seat next to you.

Jamie and Nettie stood in the aisle engaged in a quick game of rock–paper–scissors for the window seat. 

Nettie won.

“ You know if you're going to sit by the window you should wear sunscreen,” Tobey said as he peered over the seat to stare down at Nettie. 

“I have some in my bag,”

“ Hey Birdie, your mom is a chaperone right?” Jamie asked. 

“Yeah, why?”

“ I didn’t see her.”

“She’s probably on another bus, the younger kids need more attention than we do.”

You stood in a gymnasium. The floor was varnished wood, with circles and stripes painted on it, for the games that were played there. The hoops for the basketball nets were still in place, but the nets themselves were gone. A balcony ran around the room, for spectators, and lingering faintly like an afterimage was the pungent scent of sweat and the sweet tang of bubblegum.

You tugged at the band around your wrist, it was a safety procedure, something to note that you were a student and what school you attended. A group of parents gathered in the back, some had the care to weave through the crowds of students and be chaperones, others sat at tables saving them for their kids.  

You sat at a table, picking lamely at the white tablecloth. The music was thumping from speakers, a live band was stationed in front and a guy with a camera made his rounds around the gym stopping to talk with a few students and parents.

“ Not having fun baby?” Mama asked as she pulled a chair to sit next to you. She looked sweaty and out of breath, Jamie and Nettie had pulled her onto the dance floor, and their dancing consisted mostly of jumping and spinning. You were out of breath just looking at them.

“Not really, I was expecting something more… Fancy.” shrugging you leaned back in the chair, and looked up at the domed ceiling of the gym. This event was like any other school-sanctioned dance, except sometimes a camera would be shoved into your face. 

Over the music, you could barely make out the hum Mama let out.

“I know Birdie, but don’t let failed expectations stop you from having fun.” Mama pulled you into a side hug and then placed a gentle kiss on your head.

“ Okay mama, I'll go find Tobey.”

You got up from the table and made your way into the crowd. 

The speakers had too much bass; just pounding, pounding, and pounding, your head along with it. Children screeched, somewhere air horns blew, but the bass of the speaker drove them all. The noise echoed off the rafters. The parents and children ate, drank, and shouted at each other. You avoided Jamie and Nettie because you didn’t want to be pulled into the chaotic movement they called dancing.

Eventually, you spotted Tobey near the snack table, he looked out of it.

“ Are you okay?” You asked, almost yelling over the music. His bomber jacket was tied around his waist, he was slumped against the wall breathing heavily, his body sweaty. 

“Just hot,” he muttered. It was warm in the gym, most of the heat came from off the bodies of the students, jammed in so thick along the edges that every person who tried to move poked their neighbor in the ribs. The place was almost to full capacity, it was stupid to invite the entire student body of three different schools. But the majority of the children were having fun and this was a publicity stunt.

“Okay umm…” You trailed off eyes darting around the room, the exit was being guarded by two men dressed in all black. Security you guess. “Let's go outside for a bit, standing in the hallway should help you feel better.” 

Grabbing his hand you pulled him to the double doors.

“Excuse me, my friend isn’t feeling well. Can we step out for a bit?” You asked, the man on the right didn’t even look at you.

“Can’t, no one leaves until the party’s over.” The man on the left said. 

“Can we just stand in the hallway? Just for a bit?” You pleaded. Lefty shook his head.

“No can do girlie,” Lefty said, then he smiled as if someone just told him a joke.

“Boss’s orders.” Lefty grinned as he shooed you off. 

You opened your mouth, something crude sitting on the tip of your tongue. Tobey pulled you away, his sweaty hand holding onto your arm. 

“Shit, your nose,” You cursed, pulling Tobey towards the bathrooms.

“ What’s the matter with him?” Nettie asked a thin sheen of sweat coated her skin. Jamie bounded up beside her a cup of watery punch in his hand. 

“ He has a nosebleed and the fuckfaces over there won't let us out!” You yelled over the music, gesturing vaguely to the two men by the doors. Nettie hummed and looked at the men, she was fanning herself with her hand. Jamie frowned.

“Yeah, I heard a couple of people complain about that too, apparently it's for security,” Jamie said, taking a seat by Tobey, handing him more of the fancy cloth napkins. Nettie scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“ That’s fucking stupid! This is like a medical emergency!” Nettie’s brows furrowed further. Jamie nodded in agreement, you only hummed; eyes drawn to the balcony. There was someone up there, moving in the darkness.

“I’m going to go find the owners or something, Jamie, you go to Miss Rosetta. Birdie can stay here with Tobey.” With that Nettie stormed off and Jamie dashed to the tables. Under all of the thumping of the music, dread began to build in your gut. You sank to the floor right beside Tobey, Your heart pounded, and your chest felt tight. Grabbing his hand you traced circles on the back of his hand.

“It’s going to be okay? We're going to get out of here.” You said it more to yourself than to Tobey, still the brunette nodded.

“I just need some fresh air.” His voice was muffled, almost lost in the music, but you heard him. 

“ I know.” You said the words lost to the current of the music.

You saw Jamie pull Mama through the sea of students, her face painted with concern and motherly fury. Faintly you could hear Jamie yell; “ I Found her!”

He sounded so distant but he was so close, Mama was there too right behind him trying to get past the dancing children. 

The lights went out first, then the music.

Children were screaming, and of course, they were, what child wouldn’t scream when suddenly doused in darkness? You held onto Tobey hugging him close to your chest as you curled into him. 

The strobe light came on; all flashing green lights that took snapshots of children and their parents running to the doors. You saw Mama and Jamie being swept away in the stampede, you heard the speakers come to life and the manic cackle of the Joker.

Tobey squeezed you tighter, his body trembling. This would be the second time of him going through this. He lost his mother to a Joker attack.

Shit!

Shit!

Shit!

You were no hero, you were just a depressed transmigrator, a bystander. You weren't witty enough to draw attention to be a distraction, and you sure as hell weren't brave enough either. But you didn’t want to die, not this yet at least. You liked the life you were living, you were happy, and content. And you wanted it to last a little bit longer. 

There was nothing you could do. You were a fourth grader, small and poor, just another girl who had the misfortune to be born in the narrows. You figured that sooner or later you’d be just another casualty, reduced to a number. 

Men in green suits and clown makeup tore Tobey away from you.

You struggled, kicking and screaming, as you clawed at the hands holding you.

“No! No! Let me go!” 

The man was saying something, his voice gruff. You’re slapped across the face so hard it makes you dizzy, his cackle sounding a lot more distant than it was in your dizziness.

Your body went slack, the hammering of your heart consuming your hearing.

Tag List:

@jsprien213 @vxsire

A/n: ask box and tage list is open!

Part 1 HERE

[redpill-tfs]

Two Wishes

Aaron wasn't surprised when his grandfather left him out of his will.

The two had constantly clashed while he was alive. The retired Republican senator had never approved of his only grandson being gay. Nor did he appreciate his liberal activism. In Grandpa Scott's world, it was his way or the wrong way.

Aaron was fine following his own path in life. But when Grandpa Scott died, he felt a little sad the two hadn't been closer. Searching through the old attic's junk for something to remember him by, he stumbled across an old golden lamp. It looked just like the ones in old movies, covered in dust just begging to be rubbed off.

"Well, I guess I have nothing to lose by trying it," he thought as he picked it up. Sure enough, as soon as he began to rub the lamp, red smoke started to emerge before a hulking figure with a ghostly tail appeared before his eyes.

"Greetings, mortal. I am here to grant your two biggest wishes," the figure said, its arms out wides in a grand show of authority and charisma.

"Isn't it three wishes?"

"Not anymore. That's mainly used in movies to show a lesson being learned. Now we just give two wishes, so choose carefully. The only rules are no asking for more wishes and no bringing people back from the dead."

Aaron thought about it for a moment. He did have one wish right now. Though he'd never really wanted it before, his grandpa's love and approval of him would mean everything to him now. He wanted his grandpa to pat him on the back and tell him how proud he was of him. If that wasn't an option, he might as well ask for the next best thing as his first wish.

"I wish Grandpa Scott was proud of me."

"Granted." The genie snapped its fingers, and Aaron could feel himself start to change.

He looked down at his hands, noticing wrinkles appearing where they weren't before. His back started to ache a little bit, and his hair turned short and grey with age.

"What's happening to me!?" Aaron yelled out. "I didn't want this!"

"You wanted your grandfather to be proud of you. He'd never be proud of the old you and you know that. I'm turning you into someone he'd actually be proud of."

The changes continued as they spoke. His old t-shirt morphed into a crisp white dress shirt, buttoned all the way up. A bright red tie tied itself around his neck and a blue suit jacket draped itself over his shoulders. An American flag pinned itself to his lapel.

The mental changes started next. Memories of coming out of the closet completely vanished from his mind, as his rear entrance closed and tightened, never to be entered again. He'd never do anything sinful like that! He cared too much about his faith to go against God's teachings.

And God had taught him at a young age that Right is right. He immediately registered as a Republican at the age of 18 and had voted red ever since. He ran for office as soon as he was old enough and now the 68 year old has been a senator for the past 30 years, proudly representing his state and traditional values. He considered it his duty to fight the good fight against the godless liberals and their socialist ideals. They may win some battles but never the war. And with the recent reelection of Donald Trump, the tides were shifting once again in their favor.

"How do you feel, Aaron? Remember you still have one wish left."

Oh, right. Aaron had wished for something. He couldn't remember what, though. He had everything he'd ever wanted. A fulfilling career, a loving wife, and proud conservative kids and grandkids who knew God was in control. What else could he want? Standing in front of his workplace, the American flag waving proudly in the background, Aaron got an idea.

Maybe...

"I wish the American people would all believe the values I preach!"

[butterznack]

out of touch

Pairing : Jihyo x afab!reader

Summary : another late night studying while face-timing with your girlfriend who tells you to take a break.

Genre : smut, established relationship, college!au

Warnings : 18+, phone sex, mutual masturbation, fingering, sex talk? kinda?, clit stimulation, g-spot stimulation

a/n : first attempt at writing smut, it’s kinda short, maybe a bit rushed at the end, it’s not that bad, it’s not incredible, it’s fine enough for me to post it here lol. tell me if i missed any warnings regarding the smut <3

“I’m a mess.”

“What are you talking about?” Your girlfriend inquires.

“I’m falling behind in my classes, again.”

You watch as Jihyo tilts her head to the side, chin propped up on her hand and staring into your soul through her phone screen. You want to blame it on her and claim it is solely because of her charm, her gorgeous face and sweet words of hers that you are failing your classes this semester.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whine, leaning back into your chair, defeated.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, love,” but the smirk slowly stretching the corners of her lips gives her away and you pout.

You’ve had to retake three classes you flunked last semester. One because you dropped it as you realized five classes were too much workload for you; a second because the professor didn’t want to gross up the class’ grades even though everyone was complaining about the teacher’s unrelated-to-the-course’s-content questions in the exam, which made you and a bunch of other students fail; and a last because it was an elective you chose outside of your department of study and miserably failed as well. But maybe Advanced Calculus I when you were majoring in communications was not the brightest idea of your undergrad career.

What even is the Cauchy sequence anyway?

“That bad?” Jihyo asks, voice soft and laced with concern.

“I’m supposed to graduate next semester,” you start, throwing your pen on your desk, “and I said the same thing last semester.”

You curse at the sky, well, your dorm room’s ceiling. The scene has Jihyo giggling, and you mirror her smile, it helps a bit with the dreadful feeling bubbling at the pit of your stomach.

“Baby,” you melt at the pet name, “far be it from me to discourage you from studying right now, I believe you should take a break.”

“I can’t,” you pause, “I don’t want to.”

You see your girlfriend’s face get closer to the camera, and you think you hear the faint sound of her footsteps and a key turning in its lock.

“Because you’re gonna think about it all night, get probably four hours of sleep tops, and miss your first class of the day tomorrow?” she guesses, settling back into her desk chair and adjusting her phone in front of her so you can now see her fully. She’s got one leg propped up on the seat, and her tiny shorts riding up the inner part of her thigh are letting you see her baby blue and yellow flowers panties.

“Hello? Baby, you’re frozen.”

“Yeah, sorry, what were you saying?” You ask, stumbling over your words. You lift your eyes to her face, her hair is tied up in a ponytail and she’s wearing her glasses, a thin and roundish frame complimenting the shape and size of her eyes as they stare into yours. Her neck is exposed, and you see a pink-ish spot near her collarbone, remnants of your latest weekend spent together at her place.

“Case in point,” she pauses, “you should take a break, love.”

The term of endearment makes you whine, a shiver running up your spine to your nape. Jihyo’s tone is sweet, and yet authoritative.

“I’m not good at taking breaks when you’re not there, love.” You emphasize the pet name, trying hard not to crumble under her gaze, now fueled with the idea of a challenge. A look that screams bet.

“Well first of all you can’t possibly be comfortable with that hoodie on. I mean, come on baby, it’s April, the weather’s good. Light even.” And it is a suggestion, your girlfriend is too refined to simply tell you to take your hoodie off. A common occurrence when you started dating, you and Jihyo being downright blunt and short-winded, as if you were in a rush, finding the one weekend you’d manage to have with one another too short to your liking.

While you were still living and studying in different cities, you both got to appreciate and savor those days together.

The more you got to explore each other’s bodies - the tiny lion’s wrinkle making a guest appearance between Jihyo’s eyebrows when giving the first lick at her soaking cunt, or the head thrown back and mouth agape when her fingers poked and rubbed at your g-spot, the more you understood the importance of taking your time, of tiptoeing around, investing more time into foreplay and teasing more than ever now.

“I’m feeling very light,” you grin. Your fingers travel down south, catching the hem of your oversized hoodie and you slowly lift it, revealing your shorts first. Jihyo’s eyes follow your hand, biting down lightly on her bottom lip. She’s attentive, observing and taking in every inch of skin you expose.

You lift the hoodie up to your breasts. Then, sliding both hands underneath it, you grab at them, pulling them up as you keep raising the hoodie higher. As the shirt gathers near your collarbone, you let go of your tits, letting them bounce down.

You can hear Jihyo bite back a mewl through the microphone, her own hand fondling one tit, occasionally pinching the nipple that you can tell are both perking up beneath the fabric of her tank top.

“Copycat,” she smirks when you roll your nipples between your fingers.

“Learned from the best,” you breathe in a whine, staring at her free hand running down her stomach to her shorts. Jihyo lets her hand wander lower, shamelessly palming at her crotch and you watch as her pinky and pointer peek out the sides of the inseam of her bottoms.

“Bet you’d like a taste of me right now, huh?” She taunts.

And you can tell your girlfriend’s panties are drenched just from the dazed look in her eyes and the blush on her cheeks.

While Jihyo’s boobs are a delight for you to touch and gawk at (sometimes, you’re no better than a man), it is also way obvious your girlfriend also gets rapidly turned on and wet just looking at your own. You didn’t think cumming from just mouth and tongue on your nipples was possible until you met her. Jihyo’s skills in that matter were truly unmatched.

“Looks like you’re having a hard time breathing, love,” you tease in return, observing the quick rise and fall of her chest, though you’re no better. “You don’t seem comfortable right now.”

She scoffs, but ultimately decides on baring herself completely to you. Jihyo slides down her shorts and panties at a languid pace, bending down in her chair to gather the underwear and show it off to the camera. She lets it fall between her legs, a playful smile adorning her face, as she settles back into her initial position on the seat. She keeps her top on, an invitation to let your imagination run wild, to let you picture her boobs all round and swollen from arousal and her nipples red.

That’s all it takes for you to start panting, puffing out air as you take in the sight of your girlfriend’s pussy glistening in the lowlight of her dorm room. Jihyo resumes her ministrations, two fingers teasing at her slit, coating them in her arousal to glide them back up her clit. You’re a goner the moment you see her back arching against the backseat, and you finally let go of your tits to undress completely, too hot and bothered at the marvelous sight of your girlfriend getting off to you playing with yourself you don’t think you can hold back any longer.

You’re just as aroused and wet as Jihyo is. Your pussy is throbbing, clenching around nothing, but you don’t give in just yet.

“Keep up with me okay?” Jihyo prompts, and you nod, too focused on the way her fingers prob between her lower lips.

You get both legs to spread wide on the armrests of your desk chair, a hand going down to your soaked cunt, using it as a lubricant to toy at your clit. “You’re the one who should keep up with me,” you jest.

Jihyo doesn’t back down, getting one finger in, and you both moan at the same time. Her pace is slow and steady at first, and you don’t miss out the lewd squelching sounds her pussy makes when she ups her speed, mixed with the whines and moans she unabashedly sings out of her lungs.

For a minute you think about telling her to keep quiet, picturing her stuffing her mouth with the panties on display in front of her pussy. Maybe on another occasion.

You do as you said you would and match her rhythm on your clit, your middle finger circling at the bundle of nerves as fast as Jihyo is now fingering herself. You know the angle is not what you give her when you’re the one stuffing her cunt with your fingers, she’s well aware of it too. Jihyo frowns, it is not enough and it is frustrating, she barely reaches her g-spot, but follows through nonetheless.

When she pulls out to rub at her clit, you put two fingers in and they slide with ease. You moan, there’s still a slight burn and you feel yourself tightening around your fingers. Eyes glued to the screen of your phone, you watch as your girlfriend gets rough on her clit, her moans and gasps less sparse and louder.

“Slow down pretty,” you whimper, “talk to me.”

“Baby, I want your mouth on me,” Jihyo muses. “Fuck, I wish I could sit on your face right now.”

You gasp, going back to massage one tit while circling at your clit again. “I’m the best at it, right? Say it, love,” you demand, and all Jihyo does is nod, eyes shut, she’s pinching one nipple between her fingers, still assaulting her clit, she’s chasing her high. “Look at me.”

Jihyo opens her eyes and what a sight you are. Fucked out, legs spread wide on your chair, boobs bouncing lightly against your arms, your arousal is dripping on the seat of your chair.

Your moans are now as strong as hers, you’re a whimpering mess in front of her and that does it for Jihyo. Your girlfriend has her back arching, she’s doing her best to keep her eyes on you. Her orgasm hits her like a wave against the shore. She grips the armrest, riding herself through her high and more, wincing and whining from the overstimulation.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, the coil in your stomach snaps and it takes all your willpower to not close your legs on your hand at the risk of falling down from your chair.

“You okay, love?”

You can vaguely hear your girlfriend calling for you.

“Don’t scare me like that,” Jihyo huffs, straightens up and moves closer to her phone. You do the same, still fully naked.

“Weren’t you the one telling me to take a break?” you smile.

“It looked like you fainted for a sec,” she retorts, her lips stretching into a tired smile mimicking yours. “I hope it helped though.”

“Don’t worry, it did.”

© BUTTERZNACK 2024 ON TUMBLR. do not repost, copy, modify or translate any of my works. do not claim any of my works as your own.

[lixie-phoria]

[ 3.0 oh... ] BETTER THAN REVENGE !

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57 messages. 35 calls.

57 unread messages. 35 unanswered calls.

yeonjun. your boyfriend. who's in the field in front of you, who's been with you for four years, who's seen your best and worst times, who's always been there for you, who's been ghosting you for an entire week.

7 long days and no contact from him had pushed you to your breaking point. if he wasn't going to speak with you, you would force him to. you're only waiting for half time to roll around because you know you can't wait for the entire match to make your presence known.

it feels strange, sitting there, the game unfolding before your eyes but you're not paying attention. the cheers and shouts are white noise as you get lost in what you're going to say to yeonjun. a small part of you is terrified of the explanation you're going to hear. terrified also because you knew if he lost, you will be on the receiving end of his anger.

your nerves are going haywire because you could see the timer for half time ticking frustratingly fast, every second bringing you closer to the moment you weren't sure you wanted to witness yourself.

when the whistle finally blows and the players step off the field, everyone around you gets up, the noise multiplying as they head out for the break. it's a flurry of movement, and you know you're supposed to be stepping down, but it's difficult when your breath is coming out in short puffs and you can see him right there, gulping down water as his eyes remain trained on someone blocked by the crowd.

probably his coach?

and then you see her.

hair tied up, a bright section of pink standing out against her black locks, and a sickly sweet smile twisting against her lips.

you don't realize what's happening until you see her lean down and peck him on the lips, giggling as he pulls her closer.

hwang yeji.

campus celebrity, part-time model, yeonjun's childhood friend hwang yeji. and she's wearing his jersey, kissing his lips, tangling her fingers in his hair.

you see red as your 'boyfriend' shoves his tongue down someone else's throat and it's sickening. you nearly throw up.

and it appears as though hyunjin sees it at the same time too, because from your periphery you can see him drop his bottle, mouth open in shock as his eyes immediately search for you in the crowd.

you must not have been a pretty sight, because his features immediately twist into a scowl as realization dawns on hims too.

so this is why he's been acting strange.

you don't register what happens after that. you're slumped in your seat, heart racing a hundred miles an hour. you don't even know if you're crying or not. everything feels numb.

you notice when the game resumes and hyunjin playing absolutely dirty. even from a distance you can tell he's livid as he nearly takes down HYBE's defense single handed. you don't think you have ever seen him this angry before, playing as though it was a game of life and death, and when the whistle blows, it's your university that wins, not HYBE.

but your best friend doesn't bother celebrating. he's running out to catch up with you as you hastily let your feet carry you out of the campus.

"y/n."

you can't meet his eyes as he stops you at the entrance. guilt gnaws at your insides. he tried to warn you. he tried to stop you. you should have listened to him. you should not have snapped at him.

"i'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, angel. It's not your fault."

he insists on driving back with you, comforting you to the best he can.

it still feels numb, although the ice is slowing thawing. you can feel the sharp pain of hurt and disbelief working its poison on your system.

"It's just, I can't believe he cheated."

"he's an asshole. i can't believe it either." he envelopes your hands in his warm ones as the taxi drives through the busy streets of Seoul.

yeonjun. your boyfriend. who's been with you for four years, who's seen your best and worst times, who's always been there for you, who's been ghosting you for an entire week. who's been cheating on you for probably more than just this past week.

the reality sinks in.

"I'm going to get back at him for this."

"what?"

You choose to ignore the surprise in hyunjin's voice as you nod.

"Yeah. He wasted four years of my life, jinnie. He's not going to get away with that."

"But how?"

You hadn't thought that far, but you were determined you would.

Choi Yeonjun had chosen to mess with the wrong person, and you would make his regret it. after all, there was nothing you did better than revenge.

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©lixie-phoria, 2023

[makkir0ll]

summer heat

(reader x mattsun)

959 words

{a/n: I did in fact finish writing this at 12 am. So excuse any grammar and mistakes. But this in fact my first ever piece I'm publishing here. So if you have any sort of constructive criticism please tell me (kindly though) anyways enjoy}

it was mid-summer, and its that point of the month where the temperatures were at their all time highs, and the fact that your air conditioning broke didn't make it any better.

it's late at night, you and your boyfriend mattsun couldn't sleep comfortably. The humidity and heat mixing which made your sheets stick to your sweaty body in discomfort.

the two of you had made your way to the living room couch. The room is dim with only the fairy lights you hung in your apartment giving it a comforting glow, and the light of the television playing your favorite show shines on your faces. The windows are open to let the cool night breeze in along with the fans spinning at the highest speeds in attempts to cool the both of you down. You and mattsun lay on opposite ends of the couch, not being able to sit close to each other without being uncomfortable, but your legs meet in the middle, tangled with each other.

"Its so hot" you groan in annoyance. Mattsun glances over at you, wishing he could do something. Anything. To put the two of you out of this misery.

"I know baby, tomorrow we'll call the landlord again and I'll make sure he fixes it. And if not, we can crash at Makki's" he responds in a sweet tone, putting his hand over your shin to comfort you. You smile at the gesture.

He feels the weight of the couch shift, he glances over at you get up and walk to the fridge. You open the freezer and grab two ice cubes, you turn back around to face him with a grin on your face. He smiles dearly at you as he watches you walk towards him, handing him the cube. He puts the cold cube on his body, the cool touch soothing him. You move his legs aside as you rub your ice cube all over your neck. You sigh at the feeling.

In that moment, mattsun can't seem to get his eyes off you. You look so beautiful to him at that moment. Your hair tied back in a bun with your front layers clipped back. You're wearing a sports bra and the shorts you've had since high school. You're wearing your glasses, that you only wear at home or when you're too lazy to put in your contacts. He wishes you always wore your glasses.

"What are you staring at? Do I have something on my face?" you question, looking at him, and putting your fingers around your mouth. Maybe some of your dinner had missed your mouth. He shakes his head no, and you turn your head back at the tv.

Suddenly he feels like this moment right here, this is it. Sitting on your couch as your favorite tv show plays in front of the two of you. He reaches his hand into the pocket of his shorts and he feels the small velvet box he'd been carrying around with him everywhere since after your one month anniversary.

Now he sits here, next to you, two years later on the couch the two of you bought when you first moved in after a year. His stomach is doing flips, he can't believe what he's about to do, but he knows that this is what he wants for the rest of his life. He's known since the moment he laid eyes on you.

"Will you marry me?"

"What?!" you say in shock, whipping your head to his direction. All your focus is on him.

"Will you marry me?" he asks again. His stomach churns, he feels butterflies in his stomach, his heart is beating faster than imaginable, and he starts sweating. Not because of the heat this time. He moves down to the ground and gets on one knee, pulling the box out his pocket, opening it to reveal the ring.

"Y/N, for as long as we've been dating that I was going to marry you. Fuck, since the moment I laid my eyes on you I knew. I-"

"Yes." you cut him off

"What?!"

"Yes. YES. YES! A MILLION TIMES YES! I'LL MARRY YOU!" You yell as you jump onto him. You have a couple of happy tears streaming down your face as you and mattsun lie on the floor of your apartment, bodies tangle with each other.

He shifts his weight so that you straddle his lap now. You cup his face, leaning in to give him a kiss. "I'll marry you any day" You say between kisses. He smiles and pulls you impossibly closer to him. He pulls away and grabs your left hand, sliding the ring onto your ring finger. It fits perfectly. Its in the metal you always wear, something he noticed immediately. It has a small diamond in the middle, nothing too fancy. You look at it in awe.

"I know its not much, but it's all I could afford at the moment." He looks at you, rubbing small circles on your hip.

"It's perfect." you say softly. Looking back at him. "It's everything and more. I love you"

"I love you too." He puts his hands behind your neck, pulling you into a kiss. You gladly kiss him bacl. It's soft, its intimate...

Its....cold?

You both feel a gush of cool air blow against your bodies. You break the kiss and stare in disbelief and turn to your air conditioner, seeing it had turned on. You giggle at the coincidence of the timing, and you guys go back to what you were doing before.

Its still late at night. You and your fiancé mattsun lay in bed sleeping comfortably in each others arms with a feeling of love in the air.

[vintageshanny]

Taste of the Ocean

Content: A somewhat dejected Elvis invites his girlfriend on a vacation to cheer him up after filming Blue Hawaii. Smut ensues. (Please suspend disbelief that some of these actions might not be practical in the ocean, and you will enjoy this a lot more 😉). Written in response to the request below. 18+

Hi. May I request an early 60s Elvis in which he is with female reader at Hawaii for vacation and he is like very horny for her, even though she doesn't provoke him. Very detailed and passionate smut please and thank you.

April 1961

“This was a nice idea, honey,” Elvis said as he stared up at the crescent moon casting a glow over the water. “I’m glad ya talked me into a midnight swim.”

“Me too,” you smiled. “It’s nice that you decided to stay a few days after filming for a vacation. Thanks for inviting me.”

Elvis turned his gaze from the moon back to your face, looking slightly surprised. “Of course, baby. Y-y-y’know how much I missed ya.”

You actually were never really sure how much he missed you, if at all. He always seemed to enjoy your time together in Memphis, and he said all the right things, things that you were fairly certain he believed in the moment when he said them. The first time you’d heard rumors of him and a co-star, he’d insisted that the studio put these stories out to get people talking about the movie. You wanted to believe that was true, but you weren’t so naive as to think he would never be tempted to seek the comfort of another woman when he was gone on these movie shoots. Especially after everything he’d been through these last few years. You’d made a conscious decision to trust his words to you over any rumors and give him all the comfort and support you could in the moments when you were together. He always gave so much of himself, it only seemed right that he deserved this in return.

In his uncanny way of reading your thoughts, Elvis smiled sheepishly as he brushed a wet lock of hair off your shoulder. “Thanks for always bein’ here when I need ya, baby. It’s been a really stressful shoot,” he added with a sigh. “Each movie I make seems ta get worse.”

“You know what helps with stress? Floating on your back,” you said with a smile.

“Is that right?” Elvis smirked. “This isn’t jus’ you tryin’ ta get a better view of me in these tiny swim shorts I swiped from the set?” he teased.

“What? I would never!” you giggled, feigning innocence, glad that your blushing face was at least partially obscured by the cover of night. “I’ll even demonstrate for you.” You leaned back, letting your body float on the water, rocked by its gentle movements. “See? All the stress is just melting away,” you announced with a grin.

Elvis looked down at the peaceful expression on your face, your beauty seeming to glow in the moonlight. His eyes moved down to where your breasts swayed up and down in time with the water, barely covered by your white bikini top, then continued over the curve of your hips to that spot he knew was just for him. He could feel his swim shorts growing even tighter as he took note of the curly little hairs escaping from your swimsuit bottom.

“This is a nice bathing suit, honey,” he murmured as he fiddled with the strings that tied at your hips, a warmth continuing to consume him.

“Thanks,” you whispered, smiling a little bit. You didn’t normally wear such a risque suit, but you’d wanted to make sure you’d get his attention back from…wherever it might have wandered in the last couple months. “Why don’t you try floating?”

“Baby, I’m floatin’ on cloud nine jus’ lookin’ at how beautiful you are.” Elvis slowly started to pull on the strings that he’d been playing with. “There’s really only one thing that could make me feel even better.”

Your eyes popped open as you realized that Elvis had deftly untied and removed your bikini bottom. “What are you doing? Elvis, someone might see!”

“Shh, honey, it’s dark and ain’t nobody out here but us.” He tucked your suit bottom into the front of his shorts, his hardened dick having created a convenient little tent for it. “Lemme show ya how much I’ve missed ya.” You shivered a little as Elvis’ fingertips ghosted over your fuzzy mound and pushed your legs open, letting the moonlight bathe your throbbing pussy. “Damn honey, look atcha all wet for me already,” he groaned, spreading your lips and running a finger through your soft folds.

“It’s, it’s cuz we’re in the ocean,” you sputtered out, trying your best to stay still and keep floating.

Elvis leaned down and licked right down your center with his thick tongue before pulling back with that big goofy grin. “Nah, baby, that ain’t the ocean, that’s the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted. Ya been savin’ that sweet cream for me?”

You nodded, moaning with pleasure as Elvis dove back between your thighs. As you started writhing with pleasure, he used one strong hand to support your back so you wouldn’t sink under the water. The other one wrapped around one of your thighs and kept you firmly pressed against his face, his tongue dancing over your clit, alternately flicking and sucking it. Elvis continued lapping at you, the saltiness of the ocean mixing with the sweet and tangy flavor of your arousal. By the time his tongue pushed its way into your tight little opening, his nose rubbing against your sensitive clit, you were ready to explode with desire. All you could do was hope that your intense moans didn’t carry too far through the warm Hawaiian breeze.

After licking up every last drop of you, Elvis gently released his hold on you, your legs sinking down onto somewhat solid ground, your toes burrowing into the sandy ocean floor.

“Is that the kind of stress relief ya had in mind while floatin’ on your back?” Elvis’ breath tickled your ear as he pulled you close. You could feel under the water that he desperately needed some relief of his own.

“Better than anything I could imagine,” you whispered back. “Now it’s your turn.” You reached for his waistband, letting your fingers trail over his bulge, his body giving an involuntary little shudder.

“Oh, honey, ya ain’t gotta do that out here,” he protested weakly.

“I want to,” you insisted softly. “I missed you too, y’know.”

“Oh yeah?” he smiled. “What did ya miss the most about me?”

“Well, for one thing, I had no one to make me laugh like you do.” You tugged the tiny swim shorts down his legs and helped him step out of them, gripping them in your hand so they wouldn’t float away.

“And seeing me naked is gonna help with that?” Elvis’ mouth twitched as he tried not to laugh at his own joke. He leaned back and allowed his body to float to the surface, his pulsing dick on full display.

“No baby,” you teased back, wrapping your hand around him. Your insides tingled at the way the brown hairs at his base seemed to float around in the water. “This is no laughing matter. You could injure someone with this. It’s dangerous.” Elvis’ loud burst of laughter quickly turned to a moan as you took him in your mouth, your tongue caressing every inch of him. You could feel his sensitive tip graze the back of your throat as you took him in as deep as you could. As his body started thrashing about from the pleasure, you tried to support his back the way he had done with you, but before you could get a good grip on him, the force of his movements had pulled you both under the water.

“Wh-wh-what are ya tryin’ ta do, mama? Drown me?” He came up spitting out water and laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

You giggled too and spit out the salty water that had filled your mouth. “I’m sorry, you were moving around too much!”

“Well what do ya expect honey? Ya takin’ me all the way to the base makes me feel some kinda way. I-I can’t control it.”

“Hmm, maybe we’ll have to find a different way to relieve your stress,” you purred in his ear, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“I think I know jus’ the thing, baby,” he growled softly, giving your ear a nibble as he reach down and lined himself up with you under the water.

“Oh, God,” you moaned out as he pushed inside of you, stretching your opening around his thickness.

“It’s jus me, baby, but ya ain’t been the first ta get us confused,” he teased as he held your body down on his cock.

“Ha,” you tried to laugh at his joke, but the feeling of him deep inside of you had you in some kind of alternate reality where all you could experience was pleasure.

“Ohh, baby,” Elvis groaned as he gently lifted you and brought you back down on him. He could feel his dick twitching inside of you, releasing all the tension and stress that had built up inside of him. “Oh, shit, uhh, that feels so good honey.” With one last thrust upward, he stilled his movements and just hugged you tightly to him, burying his face in your neck, his soft lips pressed against your skin.

“How do you feel now?” you whispered, stroking his wet hair, feeling his chest heave up and down with the release of emotion.

“The best back float I’ve ever done,” he said, looking up at you with a smile. He tried to ignore the thought that popped into his brain next. You’ve had your moment of freedom in the ocean. Now on to the next crappy movie. Instead he squeezed your hand and asked, “Ya ready ta go inside?” You nodded and held his swimsuit out to him. “Gonna be fun tryin’ ta put these wet shorts back on in the water,” he chuckled.

“Wait, where’s the bottom to my suit?” you asked in a panic.

“Uh oh, it was wrapped up in my shorts, honey, and it ain’t there no more.” You could see Elvis trying to stifle a laugh.

“It’s not funny! How am I supposed to get out now?” you yelped.

“Hmm, I guess we’re jus’ stuck out here forever,” he smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “But at least we have these flotation devices.” He sneakily started to untie your top as well. “Might as well take this off too,” he murmured as he flung it to the side and wrapped his lips around one of your bare nipples, grazing it gently with his teeth.

“Mmm,” you moaned, holding tightly to him. “I think I’d love being stuck here with you.” You could feel his arousal growing again.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @lookingforrainbows @thatbanditqueen @be-my-ally @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @arrolyn1114

[bridgyrose]

It's gonna take some time for me to get used to your writing skills again after your several months long hiatus. But it's good to see that you're still an amazing writer.

Anyway, here's another prompt I'd like to request:

Weiss is caught riding on a flying broomstick. Turns out, she is actually a witch.

“Me riding a broomstick?” Weiss asked with a scoff. “Dont be absurd.” 

Nora pulled out her scroll and showed Weiss a picture she took. “Tell me that isnt you.” 

“It could be anyone.” 

“And the outlines of the glyphs holding the broom in flight?” 

Weiss shrugged. “Reflected light?” 

“Its the middle of the night during a new moon!” 

“I dont know, maybe someone was shining a light somewhere or someone was playing a prank with a drone. It could be anything.” 

“And I know what I saw.” Nora put her scroll away and started to walk off. “I’ll find out the truth and then you’ll have to tell me what’s going on.” 

Weiss rolled her eyes and started to make her way back to her apartment. As long as it was just Nora, it wasnt likely to come back to bite her. Though if anyone else had seen her… 

“I thought you said you were going to be careful,” a black cat called out to her. “You cant let anyone see you-” 

“And no one did,” Weiss interrupted.

“Nora did.” 

“I didnt ask you, Cinder.” 

The cat walked behind a tree and a woman with black hair and amber eyes walked out on the other side. “You know *exactly* what’ll happen if anyone finds out about you.” 

“Burning, hanging, drowning… you keep telling me.” Weiss opened the door to her apartment and motioned for Cinder to walk inside. “But society is past that. And besides, its not like anyone’s going to believe that witches really exist.” 

“And as your familiar, I have to worry. Remember, my life is tied to yours now.” 

Weiss sighed and sat down, making a few motions with her fingers. A few candles lit with her quiet spell and started to fill the room with the smell of pumpkin. “As you keep saying. What I dont understand is why I cant just tell my friends about this. If I could tell them, then it’d be easier for me to do my rituals in peace.” 

Cinder sat down next to Weiss. “And if you tell them, you run the risk of them treating you as nothing more than a grimm.” 

Weiss went quiet and looked away from Cinder. It had been a thought that crossed her mind more than once. Monsters and grimm were synonymous as far as most of humanity was concerned, and things that werent understood were either monsters or miracles with a fine line that separated the two. 

Still, she hated leaving her friends in the dark. The nights she had to leave to perform rituals as her mother taught her, having to explain everything away as part of her semblance, skirting away from admitting to how she knew grimm were nearby… it’d all be easier if she could just tell them. “They arent like that.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“Ruby’s kind and Blake… even when I was awful to her she gave me another chance. So I’m sure she’ll accept this.” 

“And how sure can you be about that?” Cinder asked. “Ruby’s a huntress, always going after whatever is deemed as a monster. Yang follows her without question. And when was the last time you spoke to Blake after graduating?” 

“They’ll understand-” 

“Understand all the lies?” Cinder smirked and put a finger under Weiss’s chin. “You remember how you felt when you thought Blake lied to you, dont you? Do you really want a repeat of that?” 

Weiss couldnt help but look into Cinder’s eyes as her chin was moved, a shiver running down her spine as the eyes looked more cat than human. She shook her head. “No, I dont.” 

Cinder leaned in for a kiss and purred as she spoke. “Then trust me when I tell you all I want to do is keep you safe. Your life is just as much mine as yours. And I’d hate to see it cut short.” 

[deadchannelradio]

i'm cutting roy out of every story i got him in with jason sorry jayroy stans i still believe in the joyfire dick grayson emotional thunderdome he just doesnt belong in the architecture i am crafting for jasons life nor does Jason belong in his. roy has his own life that is largely batboy free other than Being Weird With And About Dick Grayson. as such jasons stupid little dog Princess Monster Truck's inception (she is staying forever, but this particular inception is going away) i noodled at the beginning of is being put in the trash compactor to die forever. crunch crunch. so you can have it here instead. in my fanfiction abortion morgue.

“Laurie wants me to get a dog,” Jason says as Roy walks in the door, foregoing a ‘hello’ or an ‘I missed you’ or a ‘was the mission fun? It looked like you had fun when you shot the enormous bird-thing in the back of the neck with an explosive arrow and blew its head clean off’. He’s scrubbing a very clean pot with the maniacal focus of a man on the brink, up to his elbows with suds. 

Roy sets his bag down on the floor and tosses his jacket on the chair beside the door, toeing his shoes off. Jason points at the jacket without looking. “Do I look like your maid?” he asks. “Pick it up.”

“I would be a very happy man if you did,” Roy says, briefly transported to a world of short skirts and little aprons. He shakes himself off, then hangs his coat up properly before Jason gives in to the conniptions that are clearly bubbling under the surface. “Hi honey, I’m home, I missed you, we’re getting a dog?”

“Laurie wants me to get a dog,” Jason repeats darkly. They don’t talk all that much about Jason’s therapist or what he does in therapy, but all her best ideas that Roy’s heard about- starting prozac, getting an apartment and living in it full time instead of a rotating to a new squat every couple of weeks- have been accompanied by this tone of voice. “I shouldn’t get a dog.”

“Why the hell not?” Roy asks, coming up behind him to kiss the back of his neck and wind his arms around Jason’s waist, his shirt damp with dishwater. Jason backs up from the sink slightly to give him room, but doesn’t stop washing the soup pot. “You’re an adult. You have adult money and adult time. We can get a dog.” Roy likes dogs, conceptually. He hasn’t ever owned one long-term, but he enjoys them walking down the street and tied up outside of little coffee shops, and Haley and him hang out when Dick goes out of town and Barbara is unavailable to spend time with her dog-goddaughter. 

“I’m a felon,” Jason points out.

“Do no felons have dogs?”

“No good dog owners are felons.”

“Do you personally know every felon with a dog?”

“What if I have to go on the run again? Or something happens and I can’t take care of a dog?” The sound of the steel wool on metal is getting more grating by the second. “What if someone finds the apartment? Or-,”

“How many of these did you bring up with Laurie that she didn’t have a response for?”

Jason does not have an answer to that, given his silence and aggressive increase of scrubbing. Roy bites his shoulder until Jason flails a wet hand up into his hair and pulls him off, accidentally beaning him in the face with a soapy lump of steel wool. They’re totally getting a dog.

“We’re not applying for anything,” Jason says a few days later, tucking himself into a black jacket and grey scarf that he’s wrapping practically up to his ears. “I don't need a dog. This is a free zoo. We’re just looking.” 

“Of course,” Roy says, pulling on gloves and smiling serenely at the dog filled future yawning open before him. Jason gives him a suspicious squint, intensity ruined by the way that his knit hat is pushing his hair in every direction like a smacked dandelion. In spite of his claims, Jason is visibly nervous the entire monorail ride to the ASPCA, jaw clenched and tunneling into his coat like a turtle. Roy links their elbows as casually as he can when he has to pry Jason’s arm away from his body and scrolls his phone mindlessly. He’s been having visions of dog ownership- flyball, bitesports, long morning jogs with a scruffy heeler or blocky bully breed, agility classes and obedience courses. Admittedly, Roy knows very little about most of these things, but he’s willing to learn. 

Gotham ASPCA’s dog kennel contains pit mixes by majority, most rather unhelpfully labeled as lab or hound mutts, fooling absolutely no one beyond maybe a few landlords. The worker- Safia, on her name tag- who’s leading them around is looking at Jason out of the corner of her eye, as visibly nervous as Roy knows Jason is. He doesn’t look it, a hulking, silent presence over Roy’s shoulder, communicating with Roy mostly by eye contact and shifts in his stance. The biggest scar on his face lifts his upper lip in an accidental snarl, showing teeth, and his winter layers don’t make him any less bulky. She’s trying, at least, in that way that people do when they know they’re making a rude judgment based on little evidence but can’t stop themselves from feeling it. Roy’s sure that Jason isn’t picking up on that, though, just that he’s making her uncomfortable.  Roy puts a hand on the small of Jason’s back as they look at a lanky, blonde shepherd named Snuggles Friday, and Roy watches Safia relax by a few degrees. Friday licks at Jason’s hand through the wires as Safia talks about her, whining, her ears so huge they flop over for a second when she shakes her head. Jason’s fighting a smile. Roy gives Safia a conspiratorially hopeful grin and crosses his fingers, startling a real smile out of her. 

“I think all of our play rooms are occupied at the moment,” Safia says apologetically. “But I have a few more dogs I think would be a good fit for you if you want to look around and then decide who you want some time with?”

Roy looks at Jason, who shrugs, which is probably as good as they’re going to get right now. Friday is still licking his fingers enthusiastically, and Jason pulls away with some reluctance as they move along. 

He stops a few steps later, so abruptly that Roy walks into his back. 

Someone has accidentally left a swiffer duster in the kennel in front of them. It’s barking, a high and snappy thing, and it’s doing a little dance on its tiny feet, like it’s tip toeing in place. Its eyes are unsettlingly large. Roy laughs, looks over at Jason to make a joke about how it’s just not a dog if you can use it like a football, stops. Jason’s fists are clenched by his sides, his face going slowly red.

“That,” he growls through gritted teeth, “is the cutest fucking thing I have ever seen.”

Roy sends a mental goodbye note to Snuggles Friday. “That’s Caramel,” Safia says as Jason speed-reads the note attached to her kennel with the clinical efficiency usually given to an autopsy report. He drops to his knees, pauses, then gingerly presses a hand against the wire as though he’ll break it. Caramel leaves off the barking and begins licking Jason’s hand like it’s the last scoop of ice cream in the truck on a 100 degree day. Its hind end seems to be undergoing a seismic event.