#I have a lot of feelings about the way he was raised but I will not share them in the tags of my big art just yet

[totalswag]

podcast therapuss ⎯ DREW STARKEY

authors notes first time writing influencer!reader, i like it so far. this idea popped into my head the other day after watching one of jake’s episodes. there's no face claim for influencer!reader, i added this picture for the ideal theme.

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary joining jakes podcast talking about various topics then mentioning not getting the chance to meet drew starkey. clips of you talking about him goes viral which leads him to reaching out to you.

warning(s) none!

About a month ago, your manager texted you about doing a podcast with Jake Shane, and you quickly said yes. You contacted him shortly after your managers confirmed it, expressing your excitement. Since then, you've grown closer and spent the night before the episode was filmed.

The two of you went out to dinner and got to talking about various of topics. It was a great way to get to know each other. You consider each other as friends now.

You've used social media since you were fifteen years old. You began by posting YouTube videos, and you continue to do so. Tiktok became another source of content to promote, including daily vlogs, hilarious content, and so on. Nothing would make you change it.

Everyone was getting settled before filming began. Jake started off by talking about a few topics then you came in. You were super excited about doing this.

“Welcome to Therapuss! "We've got the incredible Y/N here today," Jake says, gesturing toward you as you relax into the comfortable chair across from him. You flash your characteristic smile, which your followers enjoy. The cameras roll, but it feels natural—just another day in your life, sharing your thoughts and experiences with the world.

"Stop it!" you chuckle, shaking your head. "But seriously, Jake, thank you very much for having me. "I am a huge fan of the podcast."

"You're too kind," he replies, smiling. "So, let us dig in. You've experienced an unimaginable rise on social media. Your vlogs are really addictive, your TikToks are continuously trending, and everyone adores you. "How does it feel?"

You enjoy answering questions like this. They are your favorite because you don't always get to discuss what inspired you for doing this.

"It's surreal, honestly," you acknowledge. "I started YouTube my freshman year of high school because I wanted to look back on the moments I made. I never imagined it would turn out like this. It has been a whirlwind, but I am grateful for it."

Jake takes it all in, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. "Based on what I've seen, your content is incredibly diverse in your vlogs, TikTok, and lifestyle tips. Tell me, how do you balance all of that?" He asks, intrigued by what you do.

You respond to the question by explaining how you learned to draw boundaries over time. You prefer to keep a lot of things private that do not affect the outer world. As your audience grew, you formed a unique bond with them.

"Do you have a show you've been obsessed with lately?" Jake asks you while laughing and raising his eyebrows.

"Duh, Outer Banks pookie!" Before you laugh and toss your head back theatrically, you smirk. The statement, "I love all characters, Rafe is my favorite," leaves Jake speechless.

"Let me explain, his character is so interesting and yes, he's a psycho," you huff, putting your palms up in defense.

Jake and you keep talking about the show and his favorite show.

Jake nods in agreement. "Totally. Okay, switching gears to Pougelandia. Tell me everything."

You giggle and lean back in your chair. "Oh my goodness, that was incredible! The Outer Banks cast is as cool as they appear on television,” You gush, your excitement is evident.

Jake’s face lights up hearing you talk about the cast, “stop it that sounds so sweet, tell me more!”

You quickly point at him, “They’re so down to earth and so sweet. I got to meet practically everyone except for one person,” pouting then covering your hands with your hands.

Jake shrieks in surprise, "bitch who? "You must tell me!" He exclaims excitedly, settling into his seat.

“Drew Starkey. I was very disappointed since I'd heard he was the sweetest person, but our schedules didn't work out." you confess with a hint of disappointment. You were excited to meet him and start a conversation like you did with the rest of the cast.

Jake, of course, teased you about it, saying, “I feel like we’re setting up a rom-com here. Drew, if you’re listening, the universe is waiting.”

The remainder of the podcast you two continue to talk about various topics and even did the infamous NAME—someone will send in a question or mention something for Jake and the guest to answer the question on the podcast. There were lots of interesting questions.

A few days later, the episode is up—fans are talking about you talking about Drew and you wanting to meet him. TikTok is overloaded with clips of you talking about Drew, and your comments are full of hopeful hints about a possible meet-up.

You'd just completed editing your most recent YouTube video for your next vlog, and you were drained enough to fall asleep at your desk. The buzz of your phone buzzing from your bed, frowning but curious in who it could be.

You scream. Literally scream.

Drew Starkey followed you.

Drew Starkey sent you a message.

"Am I being punked?" Am I dreaming? "What the fuck is happening?" You ramble while holding your phone in your shaky hands and looking at the two notifications on your lock screen.

Allowing yourself to relax and compose yourself. You unlock your phone, tap on instagram, go to the messaging tab, you’re sure your jaw dropped to the floor.

Drew Starkey: Hey, I recently watched your podcast with Jake. We should get together sometime—finally make up for not meeting in Pougelandia!

What do you say?

How do you come off calmly?

Yourusername: Hi! Yes, it sounds perfect. Let me know when you’re free.

Fast forward two months later, you feel you’re still in a dream. Drew and you hung out together at a local coffee shop then went back to your place to talk more. Once you started talking you two couldn’t stop.

After hanging out the first time came more meeting ups. Drew asked you to be his girlfriend three weeks ago—you were shocked and excited all at once.

One day, while scrolling through TikTok in your kitchen, leaning on the counter, you came across the trend—wait they don't love you like I love you. You thought the trend was silly, so you decided to participate. 

You did a couple tries and posted your favorite one out of the four—not realizing Drew was in the background on his phone, unfazed about what you were doing. Your comments started blowing up.

Bestie you got some explaining to do 🤨

Causally dancing in your kitchen while Drew Starkey is walking around at the same time? Interesting

When worlds collide fr 😏

Alright where the cameras at...

I fucking knew it!!!!

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[soft-beams]

okay, so i had camgirl!reader x vi in my mind so i decided to write a little something...i couldn't resist!!

camgirl!reader x vi

"Hey, can you loan me like five dollars?" Jinx asks, hand already held out to receive what she's asked for. Vi stares at it with a raised brow before pushing it away.

"No," she replies, rolling her eyes when Jinx gasps in feigned shock.

"No?" she questions with enough dramatics to win an Oscar. "To your own sister? Your own flesh and blood?"

"Yeah," Vi says, unaffected by the being that is Jinx. "I don't have the money to spare today. If you really need it, why not ask Ekko?"

Jinx pouts. "Because he's gonna give it to me and I like to fight for it," she says. "Besides, you never not give me money. Yeah, you'll bitch about it, but you're usually reaching into your wallet while doing that." She reaches out to flick Vi's forehead, easily dodging when Vi swats her hand away. "So what gives?"

"It's nothing," Vi stresses; expect it isn't nothing.

It's actually a lot of something.

Vi isn't one to shy away from admitting that she's broke.

If she is, she'll tell you because why hide the struggle that 99.99% of people go through every day?

No, she isn't shy about that.

However, she is shy about admitting why she's broke because it'll make her sound stupid and borderline obsessive.

Which she is, but that's something she'd like to keep to herself until the end of the time.

That the reason she's broke is because of a camgirl she discovered over a month ago and has her gripped by her metaphorical balls.

But it's not her fault that you're so pretty with your cute laugh, gorgeous smile and moans that resemble siren calls. Or that every time she sees you pleasure yourself, she loses a few more brain cells and oh no, her wallet's open again.

It's also not her fault that she feels this need to look after you and to give you everything you desire. Whether it be from your Amazon wishlist or some extra cash because you said, in passing, that you felt like ordering take-out for dinner. It makes her feel as if she's there for you, that she's providing for you.

Even if it's in some fucked up parasocial way.

So.

"I have bills to pay," Vi settles on, ignoring the suspicious look Jinx gives her. "Not all of us can live with our boyfriends rent and bill free."

"He insists I don't pay!" Jinx argues. "Every time I try to suggest it, he tells me not to worry about it." She pauses. "He also buys me gifts and stuff...is Ekko my sugar daddy?"

Vi nearly chokes as Jinx continues rambling about how Ekko could have turned her into a sugar baby.

But that's fine.

Better that than her younger sister discovering that she's spending her cost of living on a pretty girl on the internet.

Jinx would never let her live it down.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Actor

The Golden Age of Hollywood. Stars are born every day and you're desperate to become one. Thanks to @laboodanda for requesting this!

Yandere! Actor who's well established in the industry - his name on the Walk of Fame, his face on all the posters, his agents calling day and night with new offers.

Yandere! Actor who meets you on the set of his latest movie. You're barely even part of the main cast - just a side character with a few lines. But you sparkle.

You have that razzle dazzle in you that makes a true star.

Yandere! Actor who knows it's just a matter of time before you make it big. You've already got your foot in the door and all it takes is a lucky break.

Yandere! Actor who comes up to talk to you during lunch, winks at you and grins at the way you blush. You're in awe of him and it takes a second before you can answer his questions.

Yandere! Actor who's used to starstruck fans, to women who shriek when he looks their way. But, it's somehow new and endearing when you're the one looking at him like that.

He can hear the other extras rushing to your side when he leaves, babbling about how lucky you are that he talked to you, the big stars never notice the little fish.

On the final day of filming, he congratulates you on your first ever role and invites you to dinner to celebrate.

Yandere! Actor who takes you to a cozy restaurant in a quiet seaside neighbourhood. He doesn't want to be interrupted by fans, but he also doesn't want to be seen in public with you. At least not yet.

You really impress him. You know quite a lot about acting techniques, about getting into and maintaining character, about catering to the camera.

But it's clear you're still a rookie. There's a slight nervousness to you that veteran starletts don't have. It's alright - he'll train it out of you in no time.

Yandere! Actor who shares he milkshake with you and offers you his jacket when the sea wind starts to nip.

When he drops you off, he squeezes your thigh and says he'll talk to his agent about you, that there might be a role in his next movie for such a pretty little thing.

Yandere! Actor who sees the innocent, love struck look in your eyes and revels in it.

Pretty soon he calls you and tells you about a private audition with some studio execs.

"Keep your hair loose and wear that short sundress you wore on our date."

It should be friendly advice, so why does it sound like an order?

The audition is in one of the studio's offices. A room filled with big shot executives and egotistical directors. Men in suits who are high on their own power, their own genius. They've seen a thousand hopeful girls and to them you're no different.

The way they look at you makes you feel like dirt, like the most untalented person in the whole world. You would have walked out then and there if it wasn't for him.

Yandere! Actor who volunteers to read the lines with you. He winks and smiles at you and by just being there makes you feel so much better. And a few sentences in, you find your stride. Immerse yourself in the scene.

You're playing the part of a jilted lover, a woman who gave everything to her man and has her heart shattered when he leaves. In the final act, you grab his collar and look up at him with tears in your eyes, your voice shaking.

"Please, please don't go. I love you. I need you."

You raise one hand to his cheek, your fingers trembling. "Don't you love me too?"

Yandere! Actor who actually forgets his line.

You're looking up at him so weak, so vulnerable that his mind goes blank. His director calls out the line and he repeats it blankly.

"And...End scene!"

Yandere! Actor who doesn't look away from you even when the directors start clapping and you turn to give them a bow. You were so raw that it didn't feel like a performance. The tears, the desperate way you pulled at him... It felt so real.

It's only when his agent slaps him on the back that he manages to snap out of it.

The director is already grabbing your arm and insisting to the studio executives that he needs you in his next movie.

Yandere! Actor who comes up behind you and drapes his arms around your shoulders. You don't realise it but he's staking his claim, showing all these rich and powerful men that anything to do with you has to go through him. He grins at his agent.

"She's perfect, isn't she?"

The man lowers his shades and drags his eyes across your body.

"You need to clean up her look a little, but you were right. She's the perfect girl for you."

You feel like there's more behind their conversation, things they've discussed that you aren't privy to. But you don't have the nerve to ask.

On your way out of the studio, Yandere! Actor curls his arm around your waist.

"You're gonna be a lead actress soon baby. The execs want you in a few supporting roles first, just to get you used to the camera, but the director has his mind set on you."

You smile at him, a megawatt grin filled with the thrill of having your dream come true. It makes him feel like the centre of your world, makes him feel like a man.

You throw your arms around his neck and hug him. "I owe you! Thank you thank you thank you thank -"

He cuts you off with a kiss. And in that moment you really do feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Yandere! Actor who slowly takes over your beauty routine. Who tells your hairdresser exactly what shade to tint your hair, exactly what shape to thread your eyebrows. Who buys you new clothes and tells you exactly how to style them.

You don't realise it, but he's shaping your look into something that compliments his own.

Yandere! Actor who almost invites you to his movie premiere until his agent advises against it. Who kisses you and apologises and says he'll bring you to the next one.

You understand, you really do. You're still relatively unknown and having you on his arm would just invite gossip. But it still stings watching him go to the premier on his own, his arm around his beautiful co-star. You go to bed that night with doubts nagging at your mind.

It's only when you hear him knocking at your door at three in the morning that your insecurities go silent.

Yandere! Actor who's still wearing his tuxedo from the red carpet. His hair falling out of its slicked back style as he dangles a bottle of champagne in front of you.

"Gotta celebrate with my girl."

He's barely three steps into your apartment before he's kissing you, his hands on your waist and dropping lower.

You try and push him away. Tell him it's your first time.

Yandere! Actor who nips at your neck. "Don't worry, 'm gonna be so gentle."

When you still try and slip away, he pulls back to look in your eyes. Despite the haze of alcohol, there's something piercing about the way he looks at you.

"How many girls can say their first time was with a Hollywood star?"

Yandere! Actor who let's his fingers climb higher up your thighs.

"I've been workin' so hard to make you an actress. Don't I get a reward?"

How are you supposed to say no to a man who holds your future in his palm? You nod your head just the slightest and he's back to kissing you, back to drawing you hands to his belt, back to growling in your ear.

Yandere! Actor who's a shameless liar. He isn't gentle with you at all.

Yandere! Actor who wakes up all groggy and hungover the next morning. Who pulls you closer to him and falls asleep again with his head on your chest. You look down at his dark hair and his chiseled features and for a little while, it doesn't feel like such a bad deal. Love him in exchange for a career.

And he is so easy to love.

Yandere! Actor who encourages the director to start filming your movie as soon as possible. A romance between a thief (you, in your very first lead role) and a jaded detective with a heart of gold (him, who's had so many lead roles he's lost count).

The schedule is gruelling and the director is a tyrant, but this is your big break. You give it everything you have. You learn the script inside and out, badger the screen writer until she discusses your character arc with you, follow the director around and beg him for tips.

Yandere! Actor who adores working with you. You're sweet and pliable and the chemistry between you is sizzling. Every scene with you makes him need a cold shower and a priestly intervention.

Yandere! Actor who pulls you into his trailer every chance he gets to "read lines." But it always ends with him holding you down and kissing you, claiming it's good practice for the camera.

"Character building," he pants from between your legs. "Just getting into the mindset."

Yandere! Actor who watches with satisfaction as the movie comes along. You remind him of himself when he just started, raw talent and a burning desire to please.

Yandere! Actor who is next to you every moment he isn't needed on set. Who gives you endless advice and makes you laugh with his stories about bad takes and wardrobe malfunctions.

Part of it is to keep an eye on you - there's a jealous bit inside him that thinks of you as his creation, your talent a reflection of his training - and part of it is to spark rumours.

It works exactly as he intends. Pretty soon the magazines and radio hosts are blabbering about a possible romance between him and his relatively unknown co-star.

Yandere! Actor who's determined to make this movie a success. On the premier night, he walks down the red carpet with his arm around your waist. When the cameras are at the height of their flashing, he takes your chin in his hand and kisses you.

The next morning, the papers are raving about it and the theatres are sold out before midday.

It's a critical and commercial success. Yandere! Actor who's high on the thrill of it. Who loves driving down Hollywood Boulevard and seeing you on the billboards, who loves having Hollywood's newest darling on his arm and in his bed.

But then the letters start coming.

Yandere! Actor who snarls at the piles and piles of fan mail you receive. Maybe, if it was all innocent praise, he could have accepted it. But most of the letters are absolutely filthy.

Men writing to you from all over the country, all over the world. Describing in detail all the things they want to do to you, all the ways they want you speared on their cocks. Men who promise to treat you so sweet you'd never want to leave them and men who threaten to whip you over their knee if you don't learn to say please when they fuck you.

Yandere! Actor who's never received mail with such perversion. His fans are mostly sweet young girls who timidly describe how nice it would be to find a man like him, to get taken to prom and courted.

Yandere! Actor who becomes suspicious of every man he sees. The gaffer that looks at you too long becomes the guy who promised to find you and fill your cunt with his come. The driver who holds your hand when you climb out of the car becomes the stalker who followed you home the other night.

Yandere! Actor who keeps his arm around you whenever you're outside. Who starts keeping his gun in the glove box of his car.

It's not only strangers he needs to worry about either. The studio executives keep pressuring you with stricter and stricter contract offers. The director wants you starring in a romance role with another man. Two dozen talent agencies are crawling over glass to try and sign you.

Yandere! Actor who tells you to let him handle the contracts and paper work.

"The bastards will try and trick you out of your money and your clothes. Trust me baby, I've had to deal with plenty of shitty deals. I don't want that for you."

Yandere! Actor who knows exactly how tightly binding a contract is. And it's no coincidence that the one he has you sign binds your career almost entirely to his. It ensures that the bulk of your roles are alongside him, that he has the final say in studio disputes, that he owns the rights to your name.

The studio executives might normally never sign a deal like that, but they're desperate to get you under contract. You're a blazing star and they aren't going to lose you to a competitor.

Yandere! Actor who drinks a toast to your success and kisses you infront of all those high flying executives. Despite all the attention and awards you've earned, you still look up at him with a blind sort of hero worship. He's the goal you've always aimed for, the standard you've tried to reach. To be his girl is still so dizzying you almost can't believe it.

In bed that night, Yandere! Actor thinks about proposing, about wifing you up. The wedding would be huge, generate massive press. His next big project with you is scheduled for half a year away. Maybe do a proposal during opening night? Or better yet, at the Academy Awards? Yeah, that would get cinemas sold out even faster than kissing you on the red carpet did.

Save the wedding for a few years down the line. When your career is more established and your image might need an upgrade.

You curl against his side and moan in your sleep, brow scrunched. Cute, naive little thing, aren't you? Hollywood would swallow you up and spit you out if it wasn't for him.

Yandere! Actor who kisses your forehead as you dream about cameras and lights and action.

"Don't worry baby, I'll take extra good care of you."

Yandere! Actor who's curated his image so carefully. Who wants a girlfriend who's light and talent make him shine all the brighter.

And who better than someone who owes him her career?

Extra!! Here's a short drabble I wrote when I was brainstorming the idea with @laboodanda

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 2, Moving noises?

Masterlist Word count: 1.9 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Author's note: Haha, take this! 2 chapters in one day! Also, every time I write another chapter to this story I have to update the warnings and it isn't even that spicy yet.

Mature content under the cut.

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'Are you alright? You look tired.' Tara sounds awfully concerned and you can imagine why. The bags under your eyes might as well be down to your knees by now. Turns out your new neighbor is nocturnal. You couldn't care less about the moving noises, but the fact that they only happen past ten pm is killing you. 

'No kidding,' you sass at her. Quickly, you smack your hands in front of your face. Sure, you're known to have an attitude but never to Tara. She's too sweet. 'I'm sorry, I'm just so tired.' 

Tara frowns: 'Is it that new neighbor of yours? Kieran told me he has a tendency to stay up late.' 

'That's an understatement. He's nocturnal.' Tara lets out an annoyed groan in solidarity, but it just sounds cute coming from her. 'It's fine. I'm sure he's almost done. I mean, how much stuff can you fit into one of those units? You've seen mine, the one next door isn't much bigger.' 

'Must be a big change, considering you and Zayne were so close.' 

'We still are,' you tell her, 'we just see each other a little less now. I do miss him a lot.' She nods but her eyes have a little twinkle in them and you know where this is going. 'No, stop that. Zayne and I are just friends.' 

'Never even... you know,' she questions with a cheeky smile and a wiggle of her brow. 

'No, never,' you laugh, 'as I said, just friends. I don't know, he just feels like a brother. I mean, I've teased him before as a joke and nothing “physical” happened on his end. So I don't think he likes me either.' 

'He goes through an awful lot of effort to be “just friends,” just saying.' 

'Yeah, yeah, sure. You have a very filthy mind for the way you look.' 

'It's been said,' she responds with a gleaming smile. You lean back in your chair and cross your arms, looking her up and down. 

'About that.' Her body tenses up every so slightly. 'Your boyfriend is not what I expected at all. I mean, I've seen him pick you up before and he looks quite tough, but he seemed just as awkward as you are.' Tara's eyes flicker around the room a while, seemingly not wanting to explain anything to you, until her phone lights up. She quickly checks the notification and gasps with excitement. 

'Hold that thought, so Kieran just told me they're doing drinks to celebrate Sylus’ move. That means they must be done,' she states in a chipper tone. You raise an eyebrow at the strange change of topic. There's a freaky side to that woman, you're sure of it. 

'So?' 

'So, I'm dropping Kieran off so he can have some drinks but maybe we can have a girls' night,' she suggests. Considering Red Crow isn't posting anything today for once, your evening is completely open. Could be fun to have a quiet night in with Tara. 

'Sure, sounds fun. What are you thinking? Movie, face masks, board game?' 

'All of the above,' she squeals in excitement, 'I'll bring some snacks.' 

'Great, just let me know when you and Kieran are driving over.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

To be a good neighbor, you decided to get this Sylus guy a little something as a housewarming gift. Considering they'll be drinking; a bottle of whiskey can never go wrong. Lucky for you, you were gifted a bottle of whiskey a few weeks ago but you know that one is not quite your style. The Writer's Tears single pot still. It's a very nice whiskey and you've had different whiskeys from Writer's Tears before, but you're just not the biggest whiskey drinker. It's expensive too, so it might give a good impression. 

Tara just texted you she's on her way, which means you've got about fifteen minutes before she gets here. You considered waiting for her and Kieran to hand over the gift so it could be in the spirit of "oh, just dropping my friend's boyfriend off" but that’s just weird. Feels like you're a parent dropping your kid off at school and you're not about that. 

So now you're here, in front of the oh-so familiar door that you used to have a key to. Part of you is really curious how the place looks now, another part of you wants to keep the memory of how it used to be in a time capsule. Either way, you've got a present for your neighbor and this interaction could be done within a minute if you do it right. 

You press the doorbell and hear something fall followed by a string of curses. The door opens fast and the person on the other side, who you think is probably Sylus, towers over you. You look up at him with wide eyes and recognize him right away. That man right there is the reason for most of your pleasure and orgasms. Red Crow. 

'What,' he barks. Rude , and not at all what you would've expected. Still, it takes you a second to take all of him in. He’s even taller than you imagined, eyes even more piercing, face even sharper. It's like a fucking God leaning over you and staring down like you're no more than a puny peasant. 

And a switch flicks in your head. 

'Fix your tone,' you huff, 'I'm your neighbor. I thought I'd bring you a housewarming present.' His eyes widen ever so slightly. How you managed to muster up such a bratty tone in the face of who's talked you over the edge more times than you can count is a mystery to you, but it feels kind of nice to see him stunned like this. You hold out the box the whiskey is packaged in towards him. 

His shoulders relax and he does actually fix his face. His features soften a little and his eyes no longer stare at you like you're an intruder. Your heart starts racing, as if your body just now realizes who is in front of you. You beg to the Gods above that your cheeks don't get bright red. A cold shiver goes down your spine when he takes the box from you with a flicker of an amused smile, the box suddenly seeming much smaller in his hands. 'Thank you, that's nice.' 

'No worries. Tara told me you're having a party, so I thought that wouldn't hurt,' you say, trying to sound as casual as possible. He studies your face for a second, searching for the answers to a question he doesn't ask you. 

'You know Tara?' You nod. 

'She's my coworker.' Shit, your voice isn't as steady as it was at the start anymore. You've got this man on a fucking pedestal and he's here, in reach. It's a weird feeling. Your panties are soaked but you're highly put off by the way he greeted you. Still... there are very little appropriate thoughts going on in your head right now. If this was your last day on earth, you'd have this man bend you like a pretzel right here right now in the hallway. 

He nods, amused like a cat playing with its prey. 'Is that right?’ 

'Yes. Whelp, nice meeting you. I'm gonna go back to my place,' you ramble awkwardly and quickly turn to slip back into your own apartment, accidentally slamming the door. How the hell are you going to face Tara now? Your body is going into overdrive. You bet you could cum just hearing your vibrator turn on. However, you can't risk it. Tara has told you Kieran drives like a maniac and always drives if he's sober, which is now. She could be in front of your door any second. 

"Just breathe," you tell yourself, "it's just a man." Yeah, just a man, a man that could fuck you like there's no tomorrow. Shit, your thoughts aren't your friends right now. A cold shower ought to work. Hopefully. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

The bottle of whiskey from his neighbor was put on display on his bar cart. He knows the kind and that type of whiskey isn't for parties. Not even small parties like this. He figures it might be a regift or something. No sane person would give a total stranger an expensive whiskey like this. Never mind a stranger who has been a disturbance from the start. 

Then again, they're not really strangers. He saw the look in her eyes. He's seen it before and hasn't been wrong about it yet. It's that "I've seen you naked" look. To be fair, Sylus would've preferred to stay anonymous in this building for a little longer but considering his neighbor is friends with Tara, she probably won't tell anyone what he does. That is, if she knows what her boyfriend Kieran does since he wears a mask in his content. 

But there was more in her eyes. More than just scandal or embarrassment. There was lust. A lot of it. So much so that Sylus feared he might've caused his pants to tent if she would've bit her lip. Best for both of them that she left when she did. 

He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. Normally, he's not one to obsess like this but there was just something about her. Something about how she looked at him, about the way she commanded him to fix his tone. It's been a long damn time since a woman showed that kind of dominance to him and, shit, it turns him on like crazy. 

Maybe, just maybe, he can rub one out real quick. He sits down on his bed and looks down at the bulge in his pants. He truly hopes he didn't look like that before. He hadn't seen her look at it. Besides, would that be so bad? It looked like she wanted him to take her right then and there, and he would have if she asked. Or demanded, he isn't picky. 

A devious thought pops up in his head. He promised his followers he'd record himself getting off if they begged and beg they did. Maybe he could tease her with this as well if she really does watch him. If it wasn't just a look of attraction and intimidation, but recognition. 

He whips out his phone, puts it on his dresser across from the bed pointed at his crotch and upper body with his thighs still visible. His face is just out of frame, not on purpose but he doesn't mind his followers not seeing how flustered one small interaction got him. Not that they'd ever know why, but she would. 

He sits down on the edge of the bed once more to check if everything's in frame when he hears it. The shower. Her shower. So, her bathroom and his are next to each other, which means their bedrooms are probably also next to each other.  

“Good to know,” he thinks to himself, and that's when he hears it. The softest, most muffled of moans coming through the air extractor fan followed by a string of whimpers. Those must be connected to each other. He feels his dick twitch against his pants like it's being chocked, his ears feel like they're burning while a wicked grin plays on his lips. 

And then he presses record. 

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Previous - Next

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[pomefioredove]

omg i LOVE the concept of cookies as asks so can i have a sugar cookie, #8, with chocolate drizzle and marshmallows thank yeww 🙏

t-t-total idia victory!

order #8, sugar with chocolate drizzle and marshmallows

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ internet connection

tropes: ex (mutuals) to lovers, roommate au characters: idia additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu

It was the closest experience to dating Idia had ever gotten, and likely the only experience he'd ever get again.

Three months.

Three perfect, blissful months.

That's 13.0357 weeks, 91.2501 days, 2,190 hours of chats, voice calls, and texts with someone he had almost considered his.

He was raising his confidence stats to ask them out when they sent him a message, which would be their last:

"router busted. sry. will get it fixed soon"

That was weeks ago.

Idia couldn't blame them. They were going to get tired of him eventually, and ghosting him, sucky as it was, was still the easiest way to let him down.

Then, at least, he could pretend that they were telling the truth.

"Come on, Idy! This is your chance! You'll never get over them if you never meet anyone else!"

Ortho's cheery, hopeful words twist Idia's stomach with guilt. He knows that. Of course he knows that.

He buries himself deeper into his blankets. "I don't want anyone else,"

"It's only for a few weeks. Maybe you'll make friends!"

Unlikely. Idia doesn't have the social XP for that. Who would want to be friends with him, anyway?

He can't even keep Magicord mutuals.

Then again, he has no other choice.

The Prefect had asked to stay somewhere with a high-speed internet connection while post-S.T.Y.X. Ramshackle was being repaired, and Ortho had volunteered Idia.

And his room.

Ugh. Why can't anything go right for once?

Idia hides under his covers like a small child, drowning the sound of the door and voices in PreMo.

He honestly doesn't know a lot about you. He doesn't get out much, and even if he did, you've always got those OP normie friends around you.

He knows you don't talk much. He's actually never heard you talk at all.

Whatever.

Idia only emerges from his blankets when his ears are ringing from the music and his body is sore from stillness.

He takes off his headphones and reads the room.

There's Ortho, projecting a beam of light on the wall, and there's Grim, chasing it, and there's you.

You seem a little out of place, awkwardly sitting on the floor when there are chairs and tables, your bags still at your sides, unpacked.

Something about you makes him feel at ease. Weird.

"Oh- Idy!" Ortho chimes. Idia jumps, and then everyone is looking at him. Crap.

"We were wondering when you'd come out! The Prefect has a question for you!"

You give Ortho a panicked look, as if to say you most certainly did not have a question for him. Idia has his own suspicions.

"About the Wi-Fi," Ortho chimes. "They really need to get online."

Idia narrows his eyes. His brother can handle something as simple as that.

"...O-okay," he mumbles. "I guess."

He reluctantly gets out of bed and sits beside you. At least with an objective, he isn't so nervous. You hand him your phone, some sad secondhand thing, and he puts in the password for you.

"Lemme know if it's slow. I've been working on upgrading the router, and it's been a little laggy," he hands your phone to you.

"Shouldn't be a problem, though."

You take it. "I can't complain, I don't have a router at all right now,"

Idia's face turns red.

His eyes go wide.

He can't place it, at first. What's that weird feeling? What is it about you-

You notice his expression. "Uh... did I say something?"

And when you speak again, just like that, Idia jumps to his feet.

"IT-IT'S YOU!"

"You?" Grim asks.

"You?" Ortho echoes.

"Me?"

Idia feels like he's losing his mind, his anxiety cracking and breaking away, shock taking its place.

"Y-yes, you! I know that voice! Don't you- you recognize mine too, don't you?!"

Your eyes widen.

"Oh... no... no way,"

"I-I can't believe this!" he says, suddenly grinning. "You weren't lying about the router, it must've got totally busted when S.T.Y.X- oh, crap. IT'S ALL MY FAULT!"

"Idy..." Ortho warns. "Your heart rate is-"

"I know! I know, I just- I can't believe it- you, of all people,"

He sits again, shaking. It takes you a moment to catch up.

"I... I wasn't lying," you mumble. "I've been trying to get a decent internet connection since we got back, but..."

"This is the guy?" Grim mumbles to you. He is ignored.

Idia feels lightheaded. This isn't real. This isn't happening. This is some weird dream.

He can't seem to stop grinning, anyway.

"Will you go out with me?!" he asks, without thinking at all. But not even the sinking feeling in his stomach is enough to ground him.

You stare back, your own eyes wide.

And then, in your familiar voice, in your familiar easing presence: "I'd like that,"

[cognitiveoverload]

A temporary goodbye (Front Man / Hwang In-Ho x reader)

summary: The first game is about to begin, and the Front Man needs to talk to his right hand man - who happens to be a little more than that.

tags: secret relationship, established relationship, fem!reader in mind

note: I had this scene in my head and just had to write it.

You’re standing next to the Front Man in the control room in silence, patiently waiting for his orders as always. There’s a lot going on in your head, so it’s not a surprise that you find yourself stealing a glance at him more and more often, because he’s the reason why you’re a little distracted today. This is the first day of the games, and while normally it’s a routine task, this year things are different. Everyone can feel it, but very few know the reason.

“I’ll watch the first game in my room,” he suddenly announces, and before you could react, he walks away. You let out a sigh under your mask, disappointed that you can’t talk to him before he springs into action, but then he calls back, his voice cutting through the silence. “Bunny, with me.”

The mask luckily hides the wide grin that appears on your face upon hearing him say this. You were supposed to have a proper code name, but he decided that Bunny suited you more, which is why you began to use it, and he even got you a bronze rabbit mask that matched his own in style. As usual, you follow him without a question, passing by the staff members who are preparing for the first game.

In his private room, the Front Man sits in the armchair and pours himself a drink, and eventually he takes off his mask too, feeling comfortable and safe enough to let it go temporarily. You can feel your heart beating in your throat as you wait for him to show any sign that he remembers you’re there. Sometimes he gets so lost in his job that you have to remind him of your presence.

But not this time. Now he clears his throat and raises his hand to signal you to go closer. “Say it,” he orders, although his voice is gentle, as it is every time he talks to you. 

Since you’re obedient enough, you pad closer and stop by his side, a small smile creeping on your lips when you look at him. Four years. You’ve been working together for four years, but he only took off his mask around you two years ago. This was his way of showing his trust, something you truly appreciated. 

“Take off the mask, we’re alone.” He finally looks up at you, a faint smirk visible as he watches you follow his order. Once it’s placed on top of his, he sneaks an arm around your waist and pulls you into his lap. “So? What’s on your mind? I can see something’s bothering you.”

Letting out a long sigh, you wrap an arm around his shoulder and lean in to give him a tentative kiss. “Are you sure about this? Joining the game, I mean,” you clarify.

In-ho lets out a quiet, humorless laugh. “You know perfectly well why I’m doing that. But it’s okay, you don’t have to worry,” he assures you as he rests his hand on your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin to ground you. Because he knows you. He knows you’re spiraling, he knows you think something bad will happen, which always kicks your brain into overdrive. 

“If you don’t get out in time, I’ll be stuck babysitting the VIPs,” you say with a pout.

“You’d be fine.” When you give him a sceptical look, he kisses you again, and he even moves his hand closer to your inner thigh. The moment a soft moan escapes your lips, though, he stops. “Since when do you doubt me?” he wonders, his eyes examining your face to see the reaction.

Shaking your head, you rest your forehead against his. “I don’t doubt you, I’m just… Look, I know you can protect yourself, and you thought of everything, but we don’t know what he’s planning. He’s a ticking time bomb in there,” you explain. 

“Keep an eye on the team while I’m in the game. Everything’s supposed to go smoothly, but if something happens… take care of it.” 

You nod without hesitation, after all, that’s why you’re here. That’s why you became his right hand man. What’s happening between you–the stolen moments, the shared life back home when you’re not busy preparing for the next games–is a secret you’re keeping to yourselves. You’re the only ones who should know about it, no one else. It’s personal, and if anyone knew about this connection, they could easily use it against him. 

In the beginning, you tried to resist the pull, you tried to escape his gravitational field, but then In-ho made you understand that it was okay, that you could make this work. He would make sure you can make this work. By now, you’re sure he would go to great lengths to protect you, he would get rid of anyone who ever dared to even look at you the wrong way. 

The moment is ruined when you hear the instructions of the first game, a sign that it has begun. You both turn to the screen to watch it, but his hand is still teasing you, even if it’s nothing more but a subconscious movement. The comfortable silence between you is based on the deep understanding of each other, but you’re a little startled when he speaks up, not bothering to look at you. 

“I love you, Bunny, never forget that,” he says quietly, as if he was telling this to himself. 

A warm smile crawls on your lips. “I love you too.”

[ghouljams]

Can Ghost sew in the doll au? Would be a handy skill for making pretty little clothes and undergarments for his doll. And I have a thing for him wearing glasses while concentrating on his craft

Of course he can sew. How else is he supposed to get all the outfits you wear on your instagram in miniature? Of course, Ghost could go to one of the many people who sew doll clothes with reference images of you, and he did, but it raised a lot of questions. So, he sews everything himself these days.

Honestly, it's better this way. He doesn't feel as guilty for ruining your pretty dress when he's the one who made it. Doesn't worry about getting a new set when he carefully cuts a slit in the tiny cotton panties he tongues when he can just make them himself. If your skirts are stained with come, and your tops are wet with his spit, he's got plenty of copies. You'll get a fresh set as soon as he's done warming his cock against your little resin body. The doll's resin body. He'll put a change of clothes on her when he's done rutting against the tiny, molded cunt between her jointed hips.

It's not like it really matters whether you're naked or clothed, poor little dolly, all that matters is that he has easy access to your cunt.

(The phantom feeling of fingers against your folds, of something big and hot sliding over your cunt, the stiffening of your nipples under the chill or something wet... unexplainable sensations that seem to rush at you as soon as you hit that "Live" button, making you squirm and whimper for an invisible audience, one you think might not always be tuning in to watch you work, but rather to see if this time you'll come apart.)

[hjvi]

𝘾𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙔𝙤𝙪

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

Summary: Intimacy, intimacy, intimacy.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Kissing, touching, fingering. Inexperienced and slightly innocent reader. Loss of virginity.

You’re sitting on the worn, overstuffed couch in Christopher’s basement, the dim light of a single lamp casting a golden glow over the room. The faint hum of his laptop sits in the background, but your focus is entirely on him. Christopher—your Christopher—is pacing, talking a mile a minute, hands flying in every direction as he tells you about some ridiculous idea for a YouTube video. To anyone else, he’d be this loud, fast-talking ball of energy, hard to follow and even harder to keep up with. But to you, he’s everything.

Ever since you were kids, you’ve known a side of Chris that no one else sees. To everyone else, he was the annoying kid who couldn’t sit still, who blurted out answers in class without raising his hand, and who was always two steps ahead of himself. But you—you saw the quiet moments. The times when he’d focus so intently on a drawing or a thought, his blue eyes narrowing in concentration, the world fading around him. You saw the way he’d bite his lip when he was nervous or how his hands fidgeted when he was trying to keep his energy under control. To you, he wasn’t just loud or impatient—he was a puzzle, intricate and endlessly fascinating. And for some reason, you were the only person who seemed to want to figure him out.

The two of you grew up in the same neighborhood, your houses just a few blocks apart. Your earliest memory of Chris is of him at a birthday party when you were six. He’d been the kid running around with cake smeared on his face, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. But later that same day, you’d found him sitting under the dining table, quietly drawing pictures of dinosaurs on the napkins. He’d looked up when you crawled under to join him and smiled, wide and genuine. “You like dinosaurs too?” he’d asked, his tone curious, his smile so warm it felt like sunshine. From that moment, it was like you’d known each other forever.

As the years passed, your friendship deepened. Chris was the only friend you ever needed. He was loud, sure, but he always made space for you. No matter how chaotic his energy was, he’d stop everything to listen when you needed to talk. It amazed you how someone so full of life could also be so present, so deeply invested in you. He’d lean back in his chair, hands still for once, his blue eyes locked on yours. “You’re seriously the only person who gets me,” he’d say, and you’d believe him.

When you were ten, the two of you made a promise. It was one of those silly, half-serious pacts kids make late at night when the world feels a little too big. You were sitting on his bed, the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling casting faint shadows. “If we don’t have anyone else by the time we’re, like, old—I dunno, twenty-five or something—we’ll just get married, okay?” he’d said, his tone light but his eyes sincere. You’d laughed and agreed, pinky-promising under the covers.

You never told anyone about that promise, but it stayed with you. Maybe because deep down, you’d always known there was something different about the way you felt about Chris. You’d always loved him, in one way or another. But it wasn’t until recently that you realized he loved you too—not just as a friend, but as something more.

It happened one night a few weeks ago. The two of you were sitting on the hood of his car, parked at the edge of an empty lot. The sky was clear, stars scattered across the black canvas above you. Chris was quieter than usual, his leg bouncing as he stared out into the night.

���Hey,” he’d said suddenly, turning to look at you. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” you’d replied, your voice soft.

He’d hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. Then he’d smiled, small and shy. “I think I’ve been in love with you since, like, forever. You’re the best part of my life, you know that?”

Your heart had stopped, then started again, pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. You’d felt your cheeks heat up, and for a moment, all you could do was nod.

Since then, everything had shifted. You and Chris were still you, still the same two kids who had grown up together, but now there was something more. You’d found yourself leaning into it, letting yourself be vulnerable in a way you never had before.

But there were still parts of you that held back. Chris had always been so sure of himself, so full of life, while you had always been a little more reserved. You loved the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world, but sometimes you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. You’d always been thin, your body a mix of sharp angles and soft curves, and while Chris never seemed to notice the things you picked apart about yourself, the insecurity lingered.

The evening in Christopher’s basement feels like every other moment you’ve spent with him, but there’s a new charge in the air, one you can’t ignore. The two of you are on the worn couch again, the soft hum of the paused movie barely audible in the background. His arm rests along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing the ends of your hair. It’s a small touch, one that sends warmth rushing through you.

Chris leans closer, and his voice is softer than usual. “You okay?” he asks, those piercing blue eyes of his locking on yours.

You nod, smiling at the way his concern seems to melt into relief almost instantly. He tilts his head, his messy hair falling into his face just a bit. “Good,” he says, his lips twitching into that familiar, crooked smile that’s always made your heart stutter.

His hand brushes your hair from your face, and for a moment, it feels like the world has slowed. He moves in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. The tension is palpable, hanging between you two, thick like a storm that’s about to break. The quiet pulse of your heartbeat fills your ears

You don’t remember who moved first, but suddenly his lips are on yours. It’s gentle at first, an exploration, a shared breath as if testing the waters. But as his lips press against yours again, firmer this time, something shifts. His hands slip behind your neck, pulling you in closer, tilting your head as his mouth moves against yours with more urgency. You respond in kind, your fingers finding the soft curls at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer still. His lips part slightly, and you follow suit, the kiss deepening as your breath quickens.

You kiss him back, feeling the heat of him spread through you. The world fades, and it’s just the two of you, the taste of him on your lips, the soft slide of his mouth against yours. You lean in, deepening the kiss.

His hand slips from your neck, trailing slowly down your body, fingertips brushing the edge of your shirt, and then—deliberate—he slides his hand beneath the fabric. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, his fingers warm against the bare skin of your waist. You feel him hesitate for just a split second, his touch lingering there, waiting for permission.

He pulls back for a moment, his breath hot against your lips. His eyes are locked on yours, searching for something, maybe reassurance, maybe a signal to continue. You can see the longing in his gaze, but there’s something else there too—a tenderness that cuts through the heat of the moment.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, his voice low and raspy, as if he’s afraid of pushing you too far, too fast.

You nod, your throat tight, but even in the dim light, you feel exposed—vulnerable in a way you’ve never been before. “Yeah… just… just slow down a little,” you say, the words coming out in a breathy whisper. You reach up, your fingers trailing down his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt.

He nods, his fingers trailing down your arm before they find your shirt. With a sudden surge of confidence, he starts unbuttoning it, his fingers careful but sure. You can feel every movement, every inch of fabric that loosens, as if the small space between you and him is collapsing with each passing second.

As the fabric falls open, his fingers trace the curve of your collarbone, the heat of his touch spreading through you like wildfire. You shiver beneath his hand, but instead of moving away, he closes the distance again, kissing you harder, deeper, as though he can’t stop himself, as though the world outside the two of you has ceased to exist.

His lips leave yours, trailing down to your neck, and you gasp, feeling the soft press of his mouth against your skin. His hands move, carefully but insistently, exploring, learning the shape of you. You feel exposed, vulnerable—but with Chris, it’s different. It’s safe. He’s not rushing, not forcing anything; he’s savoring every inch of you.

You pull him back up to kiss him again, your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him into you with a hunger that surprises you. He groans softly, pressing his body against yours, the heat of him intoxicating. Your hearts beat in sync now, and everything else—the noise, the world outside, the insecurities—fades into the background.

His lips move to your neck, kissing the soft skin just below your ear, and you shiver, your breath catching in your throat. He pauses again, his lips lingering there as if savoring the taste of your skin. His hands are now at the hem of your shirt, sliding it upwards, slowly exposing more of your bare skin.

You don’t stop him immediately. Instead, you close your eyes, letting yourself drown in the sensation. But when his fingers move lower, his touch now bold and unhesitant, you freeze. His fingers find the clasp of your bra, the small piece of fabric that is the last barrier between you and the vulnerability you’re feeling in this moment.

It’s not that you don’t want him, not that you don’t trust him. But something inside you shifts, a rush of uncertainty flooding you all at once. You swallow hard, the intensity of the situation pulling you back to earth. You place your hand gently on his chest, stopping him just as his fingers brush the clasp.

“Chris… wait,” you murmur, your voice shaky.

He pulls back immediately, his eyes wide with concern, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His brow furrows in concern, and his voice is low and steady when he speaks. “I’m sorry… I—I didn’t mean to—”

You shake your head, your fingers pressing lightly against his chest, grounding yourself. “No, it’s not that… it’s just—” You pause, looking into his eyes, seeing the question there. “I’m not ready for that. Not yet.”

His shoulders relax, but his gaze doesn’t waver. He nods slowly, his lips pressing into a thin line as he processes your words. “Okay,” he says, his voice soft but certain. “That’s all you ever have to say, you know? I’m not here to push you into anything.”

You drop your hand from his wrist, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, his hand lingers on your side, the touch no longer exploring but reassuring. “It’s not just that,” you continue, your voice shaky. “I—I don’t feel… good about myself. I know I’m too thin, and I just don’t—”

“Stop,” he interrupts gently, his tone firm but full of warmth. “Don’t do that to yourself, okay? You’re not ‘too’ anything. You’re you, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you glance away, feeling vulnerable under his steady gaze. But Chris isn’t having it. He shifts so that he’s kneeling on the couch in front of you, his hands coming up to cradle your face. “Look at me,” he says, his thumbs brushing the corners of your eyes where the tears threaten to spill. “You’re beautiful, m’kay? Not because of what you think you should look like or whatever you’re comparing yourself to. You’re beautiful because you’re you. And I swear, I’ll spend the rest of my life reminding you of that if I have to.”

The sincerity in his voice leaves you breathless. You blink up at him, and when he sees the tears falling, he leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m serious,” he murmurs against your skin. “You never have to explain yourself to me. I’ll always wait for you, no matter how long it takes. Because it’s not about me, or even this. It’s about us.”

You nod, your hands finding their way to his as they rest against your cheeks. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “You don’t have to thank me. I love you, that’s all.”

The two of you stay like that for a long time, the weight of the conversation settling into a comforting quiet. Eventually, Chris pulls you into his arms, shifting so that you’re both lying back on the couch. His hand runs gently up and down your arm, his touch soothing.

He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, feeling the weight of your own emotions settle in the safety of his words. He’s not in a hurry. He’s not pushing you. And somehow, that makes everything feel better, more right. The tension that had been building between you two dissolves into something quieter, softer. You still feel the heat of him beside you, the pull of his presence—but now, it feels like something you’re ready to embrace, when the time comes.

And as the night stretches on, you both stay there, wrapped up in each other, waiting for whatever comes next. The promise of more—a promise that can’t be broken.

But as the hours tick by and the night grows colder, you can feel it: things are about to change. The future, unknown and full of possibilities, awaits just beyond the horizon.

And whatever it holds, you know one thing for sure: you’ll face it together.

Months have passed since that night, and the walls you’d so carefully built between the two of you are beginning to feel fragile—like old bricks slowly crumbling, piece by piece. With every moment you’ve spent with Chris since, the weight of the space between you has only grown heavier, more unbearable. There’s something in the air now, a shift that feels as inevitable as the tide. You can feel it in the way he looks at you, in the way his voice deepens when he speaks your name, in the way his hands linger on your body just a little longer than before.

The tension between you both has escalated, winding itself around every glance, every touch, every whispered conversation. What started as tentative steps into new territory—those quiet, soft moments—has gradually transformed into something more intense, more urgent. You’ve grown so close that it’s almost suffocating in the best possible way, each of you navigating the space between comfort and longing, between safety and desire.

You’ve taken things much further now. Your lips no longer linger at the edge of hesitation; they meet his with fervor, with want, with a fire that feels like it could burn through everything in its path. The warmth of his touch sends waves of electricity through you, leaving you breathless and wanting more. You’ve learned every contour of his body, every curve of his smile, the exact way his lips feel against yours.

But none of it is enough.

You’ve built something with Chris, something you know is real, something you can’t imagine living without. But every time his hands trace the line of your back, his fingers brushing against the bare skin under your shirt, every time his lips leave a trail of soft kisses down your neck, it only leaves you wanting more. Not just his touch—not just the feeling of him beside you—but the intensity of everything he makes you feel, the wild, untamed yearning that has settled in your chest, burning brighter with each passing day.

It’s hard to put into words, the way it’s grown. The longing, the craving—it’s like a hunger you can’t ignore, can’t sate, no matter how many times your lips meet, how many times his hands gently pull you closer. You need more. You need him like you’ve never needed anything before. Your body aches for him in a way you hadn’t fully realized until now—until every moment you’ve spent with him has built to this crescendo, this pressure that you can’t push down anymore. It’s there when he smiles at you, his eyes full of mischief and sincerity all at once. It’s there when he touches you, his fingertips grazing your skin like a spark that could light the fuse of something you’ve been holding back for too long.

Tonight, the air feels thick with it. You’re sitting next to him on his couch, the soft hum of his laptop still present in the background, but it’s drowned out by the sound of your breathing, your heart pounding in your chest. The way his hand rests just inches from yours—your fingers brushing, the slightest touch—sets your pulse racing. Every movement he makes is like a promise, every glance, every small laugh, an invitation.

He shifts closer, his thigh pressed against yours, the warmth of his body radiating through your clothes. His arm finds its way around your shoulders, pulling you gently into his side, and for a moment, you just lean into him, taking in the feeling of his proximity. But the moment doesn’t last long. You can’t ignore the way his lips linger near your ear, the way his breath fans over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft, teasing, “I’ve been thinking about this... about us... a lot lately.”

You turn your head slightly, meeting his gaze. His eyes are darker now, filled with a mixture of warmth and desire that makes your heart skip a beat. He’s not talking about just the past few months of your friendship, not talking about the casual touches or the quiet moments where your hearts would connect in a way you never thought possible. He’s talking about something more, something that neither of you has fully embraced yet.

“I want you, m’kay?” he says, his voice rough around the edges, his hand sliding down to your waist. His fingers press into your side gently, but you can feel the strength in his touch. It’s almost as if he’s trying to hold back, trying to be respectful of the space you’ve both created over the months, but the desire is too strong now.

You breathe out, feeling your chest tighten as he leans in, his lips barely brushing against yours. The kiss is slow, deliberate, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that makes everything else fall away. His hand moves up to cup your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, and you feel it—everything you’ve been craving—crash over you in waves.

You’ve always known how much you wanted him, but this? This is different. This feels like a tipping point, a line you’re both about to cross. And as his kiss deepens, as his hand slides down to your back, pulling you closer, you know it’s no longer about holding back. It’s about surrendering to what’s between you, letting it consume you in the way you’ve longed for.

His lips trail down to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You tilt your head back slightly, giving him better access, the pulse in your throat beating in time with the wild thrum of your heart. His hands move with purpose now, slipping under your shirt, his fingers grazing the skin of your stomach, sending a wave of heat rushing through you.

And then his fingers find the clasp of your bra. There’s no hesitation now. His touch is confident, sure. You can feel the pressure of his hand against your skin as he works at it, slowly and deliberately. But just as the clasp starts to loosen, you freeze. It’s not that you don’t want him—it’s that you feel yourself on the edge of something, something that makes you nervous but excited all at once.

You place your hand gently on his chest, stopping him. It’s not a rejection; it’s just… a moment of clarity. You pull back slightly, your breath ragged, and meet his eyes. His expression softens, and his lips curl into a small, reassuring smile.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice gentle, full of concern. “I don’t want to rush you.”

You take a deep breath, nodding slowly. “I want this, Chris. I really do."

On one particular Saturday night in the midst of autumn, you found yourself propped up against Chris’s side on one of the couches in the triplets party, legs bent up at your chest as you fiddled with frayed denim at the end of your pant leg. Chris was in a debate with a random man, someone he seemed to know well enough to bullshit with, talking about how the two had snagged something good off a rich man’s car not too long ago.

If it hadn’t been for the incessant rap music Nick played when it rounded two in the morning you’d likely have fallen asleep against Chris, but the occasional jump of a new song kept you jerking awake, a tired pout situating itself on your features as you rested your cheek against Chris’s shoulder.

“Looks like your miss is real tired.” The man stated, taking a long puff from his cigar before gesturing toward you with the end of it, a snicker following his words as he propped himself up against the end of his pool cue. Chris quirked a brow, looking down at you where you were tucked into his side with a hidden smile.

“Guess she is.” He murmured, not saying anything more beyond that before moving to prop himself up straighter, hand smoothing down your back as he looked down at you. “Tired?”

You weren’t tired, tired. More so bored, the constant scent of smoke and alcohol wasn’t helping the boredom or the budding headache in the back of your skull. But knowing if you said anything other than ‘yes’ at that moment would result in another hour downstairs, you nodded, feigning a yawn as you let your eyes flutter deceptively.

Chris caught on, but he didn’t say anything. Instead choosing to click his tongue against his teeth as he played along, shrugging as he moved to stand. “I’ll see you later, man.” He stated, causing the older man to shrug himself before dispersing off into the crowd. Chris turned to you, helping you to your feet before leading you up the stairs.

“Lyin’ is a sin, y’know that right?” He chuckled out, quiet enough for only you to hear as he nudged open his bedroom door with the toe of his shoe, causing you to laugh yourself and avert your gaze from his as you moved into the familiar room.

“Didn’t lie.” You mumbled out, another pout crossing your lips as you kicked off your shoes, making your way to his bed. “Real tired, Chrissy.”

“Sure, doll.” He snickered from the corner of the room as you made yourself comfortable on the bed, the familiar metallic clang of his belt hitting the wooden floor echoing throughout the room soon after.

He moved beside you then, letting out a sigh as he wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling your back flush with his chest. The sound of rap music and clattering pool balls still echoed from downstairs, but the only thing you could bring yourself to focus on was the feeling of Chris’s knee between your legs.

It was an innocent move, both of you slept with your legs intertwined, it felt comfortable given how small his bed was. As he shifted to get more comfortable his knee pressed harder against your clothed cunt, causing your cheeks to flush red as you choked back a whine. Chris stiffened, breath catching in his throat as he took a moment to gauge your reaction before moving his knee again.

“Chri-“ You whined, hand moving down in between your legs as you buried your face into the pillow you two shared, his scent lingering heavily on the fabric doing nothing to quell the growing ache between your legs.

“What, doll? Feel good?” He whispered, words ghosting across the nape of your neck, causing your back to arch involuntarily as you slowly nodded. His hand smoothed down your front, bumping over the fabric of your shirt and jeans as he slowly moved to cup your sex, ever so gently applying pressure as he rocked himself against you.

You felt yourself soaking your underwear with arousal the longer he rutted against you, his fingers pressing against your cunt through your jeans as he did. A familiar sensation bloomed in your lower stomach, one that left you clenching your thighs around his palm as you tried to quell the growing ache.

“Gotta tell me what you want.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, trailing a litany of open-mouthed kisses along the curvature of your throat, pressure from his fingers increasing against your cunt. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Fuck, Christopher, just fuck me.” You whined, embarrassment over the prospect of voicing your needs soon being overweighed by the sheer need you felt for him, your hand moved to grasp at his forearm as you begged. “Please, Chris.”

That seemed to be all he needed as he moved to sit up on his knees, pressing another kiss to your jaw before pulling his shirt up and over his head. You laid there, lips parted as you watched him undress, feeling your blush spread from your cheeks to the top of your chest. You wanted to touch him, feel him, kiss him - so you did. You moved to sit up, folding your legs underneath yourself as you moved to press a kiss to his lips, hands moving to cup his jaw, only pulling away when you felt that familiar pull to touch him elsewhere.

You’d seen him without a shirt, but you’d never truly been able to admire him until now. Your hands wavered over his body, fingertips dipping in between the rivets of his toned skin, along healed scars, a faint bruise that still lingered under the left side of his ribcage. Above it all you found yourself fascinated with the way his chest rose with each breath and the small freckles that lined his skin. They reminded you of the ones he’d gotten from his time in the sun that plastered themselves against his cheekbones and upper shoulders.

Chris let you look, eyes fluttering whenever your hands would drift farther south than before. You could hear him taking in shuddering breaths, chest catching every few minutes as though he were teetering on the edge of self-control. He raised his hands then, looking to you for approval before he lifted your shirt up and over your head, bundling the soft fabric in his hands before letting it fall to the floor.

You reached your hands behind yourself, unclasping your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders until your bra collapsed into your lap, exposing your breasts to him. He felt his throat dry, blue eyes flickering between your chest and your eyes before he moved to gently lay you back against his bed, situating himself over top of you.

“You want this?” His words were hushed as his hand drifted down over your bare stomach, slowly unbuttoning your jeans as he kept his gaze locked on your face, watching for any sign of discomfort or worry. When you responded with a nod and a quiet, “I want this.” He smiled, a soft laugh leaving him as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

You’d envisioned losing your virginity hundreds of times, a perfect encapsulation of what sex had to be painted in your mind, vivid and blaring. But this was so different, the way Chris was so gentle, not afraid to laugh if something awkward happened, both of you sharing the pure moment of intimacy with smiles on your face. Nothing could’ve ever prepared you for it and that somehow made it all so much better.

As he slid your jeans off your legs he smiled up at you, a soft look on his face as he tossed the denim to the floor, moving back up to place another languid kiss to your lips. His hand moved between your thighs, fingers splaying against your cunt through your underwear, a groan passing his lips when he felt just how wet you’d become.

“Chris, please-“ You begged, thighs trembling as he continued to tease you through your underwear. He relented, placing a gentle kiss to your jaw before moving to sit back up, slowly sliding your underwear down and off your body before discarding them to the floor as well.

“So beautiful.” He murmured, eyes wandering over your form laid in front of him, hands smoothing up and down your sides as he took it all in. “So fuckin’ beautiful, doll.”

You watched with bated breath as he slipped his jeans off, kicking his boxers off along with them. His length was bigger than you’d anticipated, only having felt the shape of it when you’d ground down against him during your frequent make-out sessions. As if sensing your apprehension he moved back over you, hand moving to cup your cheek as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“It won’t hurt, alright? We’ll take it slow, real slow.” He whispered, voice soothing as he helped you to wrap your legs around his hips, your heels subtly digging into the flesh of his lower back. He smiled down at you, eyes voicing a silent question if you were alright to which you quickly nodded back, a smile upon your face as well.

He braced himself on his arm, face close to yours as he slid a hand down between you, helping to guide himself inside before sliding his fingers up to slowly circle your clit. A moan left you at the feeling, leaving you clenching around his tip, the feeling causing him to bite back a grunt as he slowly began pushing in.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groaned out, brows screwing together as he pushed himself to the hilt inside of your welcoming cunt, pausing in his movements to give you a chance to grow used to the feeling. “Doin’ so good, baby, so good.”

You’d heard horror stories from your friends, tales of how their first time had been painful and rushed, but this felt the complete opposite. While it took you a moment to grow used to the feeling of him inside of you, A sharp groan slips from your lips, the sound escaping before you can stop it. The sharp sting still lingers, a fiery sensation that makes every breath feel a little too heavy. You try to steady yourself, but the pain pulses with each movement, teasing you with its intensity.

You close your eyes, waiting for the sharpness to subside, the heat gradually fading into a dull throb. The tension in your body tightens, but you force yourself to relax, to let the stinging tone down. It’s a slow burn, a lingering reminder of just how real everything feels right now it was an incredibly welcome feeling. You could feel yourself clenching down around him, his fingers circling your clit only adding to the feeling building in your stomach.

“Chris- Chris, move.” You whispered out, voice hoarse as you grasped at his shoulders, desperate for him to move. He snickered at your pleading tone, slowly pulling himself out before pushing back in, slowly and deeply fucking you as he whispered words of praise into the crook of your neck, pressing kisses against your damp skin whenever he couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of your warmth surrounding him.

You could hear your wetness coating his cock with each thrust of his hips, his fingers slick against your clit. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, broken-off moans, and whispered words. Your thighs tightened against him as he adjusted himself, lifting himself a bit, unknowingly brushing against a spot within you that you’d never known existed - one that pulled a drawn-out moan from your chest.

Your mind goes momentarily blank, a fog settling over your thoughts as his hand flattens against your stomach, feeling the bulge of his cock. warm and grounding. The touch sends a ripple of heat through your body, and for a second, it feels as though time slows. Every nerve in your body seems to focus on the gentle pressure of his palm against your skin, pulling your attention to the way it feels—so intimate, so right. Your pulse quickens, your breath hitching as you struggle to gather your thoughts, but the weight of his hand keeps you rooted.

“Do you feel that, sweet girl?” His voice is low, the words curling around your senses, sending a shiver down your spine. It’s not just the question—it’s the way he says it, with that mixture of tenderness and something far deeper, far more possessive. His touch lingers, as if savoring the moment, and your body reacts before you can think. The fog in your mind grows thicker, swept away by the overwhelming sensation of him so close, so present.

“Yeah?” He asked through a smirk, hand moving down to cup your hip as he pushed back into you, hitting that very same spot. You could hardly think, let alone breathe as he fucked himself into you, fingers working at your clit as he angled himself to hit that spot over, and over. “Taking me so good, doll.” He grunted out, grip tightening on your hip as he picked up his pace.

Your hand shot down to his wrist as he continued toying with your clit, eyes fluttering shut as you felt your orgasm building to its peak in your lower stomach, the feeling causing you to rock your hips in tandem with his thrusts. The look on your face was enough to make him groan, his hand moving from your hip to your jaw as he tilted your face to look at him.

“Look at me when you cum on my cock, baby.” He murmured, voice soft yet authoritative as he slammed into you. As soon as you opened your eyes he moved his hand, pressing it against your lower stomach as he continued fucking himself into you. It felt as though he were pushing you down onto him, that spot that nearly blinded you with pleasure constantly being rutted against by his cock.

All you could muster was a weak, “F-fuck,” as you came undone, back arching off the bed as you whined out his name. He didn’t stop, stifling a groan at the way you writhed beneath him as he felt his orgasm building. Once you started swatting at his fingers that still circled your clit he moved his hand, choosing to grab the other side of your hip, effectively propping you up against him as he fucked you.

The pace was near brutal, moans forced from your body as your breasts bounced with each thrust. You couldn’t focus, still reeling from your last orgasm as he continued fucking you into oversensitivity-fueled bliss. You could feel his thumbs pressing into your hipbones, short curses slipping past his lips.

“Gonna cum, baby.” He grunted, pulling out of you a second later, spilling his cum across your lower stomach. His chest heaved, cheeks flushed red as he pumped himself through his orgasm. You could only watch in a haze of your own, still catching your breath as he looked up at you, that familiar crooked smile taking over his features as he moved on top of you once more.

“Did so good, doll. Real good.” He murmured against your cheek, pressing a kiss to your skin between each sentence. “You feel alright? Need me to get you something?” He asked after a moment, a hint of concern evident in his tone that made you smile as you shook your head.

“It felt perfect, Chris. I’m alright.” You whispered back, turning over onto your side to face him, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek, leaning up after to press a kiss to his waiting lips. “Perfect.”

Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

A/N: Thank you for reading if you made it this far, or even if you just skimmed it over - either way I appreciate the interactions! I tried to make this accurate or at least how I envision virginity loss for Chris but feel free to correct me! I am very open to constructive criticism. I'm flopping very bad so I don't expect much interactions:))

taglist: @swagalicious260@watercolorskyy@coquettechris@lovesturni0l0s@christmastreecake@ellbowmacaroni@blog-luvdance@sophand4n4@meg4-matt44

NOT PROOFREAD!

[smilesatdawnmain]

This might have been asked before, but what would have happened in Taken Au if Nezha took Xiaotian instead of MK?

Also, I love the au and the tragedy of Six as well. Thank you for creating such beautiful art!

This has been before, but I am happy to tell more about it!

It's my REVERSE TAKEN AU The basic concept is that if Xiaotian was taken instead, he was found and raised by THE SPIDER QUEEN.

Basically grows up to be a Thief for her, and considered her "Prince".

While MK grows up more considered Wukong's heir. While Xiaotian never had an interest in training in Taken, in Reverse Taken, MK flourishes in training and gains a lot of attention.

Still gets sick, but not many see that side of him.

Xiaotian would be called Xiaozhizhū (little spider)

Mk would be Xiaotian (Little heaven)

Link to More

(I honestly feel like Xiaotian is constantly stealing from Red Son and his Family XD As well as Mei's family)

When MK and him meet, MK is constantly trying to convince Xiaotian to not follow "in the ways of evil".

THANK YOU!

Previous

Next

[kenyan-corvid]

*🌊 Champion of The Undersea 🌊*

My personal Gillion Tidestrider design! I haven’t finished the podcast but I’ve been working on him for a few days already :)

Design notes!

I really think he would be pretty Leopard Seal like and actually a mammal so his humanoid appearance makes a bit more biological sense

I took a lot of liberties with his clothing and accessories as I feel his canon ones don’t really capture his personality and are very similar to surface clothing despite him being from a mainly underwater civilization, so I wanted to change it up by taking inspiration from non-western cultures like the Maasai, Akan, Plains + Northwestern First Nations, and many others!

He wears his Orca mask whenever fighting! Whales, Orcas as well as colors such as black, silver, blue and purple are heavily tied to the moon and the deep, and channeling this though a mask gives him more strength as well as intimidation!

The orange and pink circles on his loin cloth represent the relationship the sea and krill have :]

Rough Biological Changes:

Tritons do not have gills and cannot truly breath underwater like a fish :[ however they can hold their breaths for extremely long amounts of time and poses very strong muscles around their nose that can seal them shut to prevent water inhalation!

Tritons do not lay eggs but instead have live births like seals and will also nurse their young for a time, they often have 2-3 guppies, but it’s not uncommon for some to not survive birth or adolescence

Tritons have very short, bristly fur as well as curly, protective hair to maintain water when above the surface

Theres a very low chance for a triton to be born with a “coral crown” however this is actually a bone that behaves like horns!

Rough cultural changes:

A bit of a name change! Tritons have a True name and a Surface name due to how differently sound travels through water and air. His surface name is Gillion Tidestrider but his True name translates to First Champion of The Deep Moon From The Tidestrider Ice sheet (Moon’s Champion).

Tritions travel to the South Pole give birth due to their main food sources migrating! Guppies are born on the surface (on ice sheets) as they don’t have the ability to hold their breath for a sufficient time at birth, and until they are able to migrate and make the journey back north they’re raised communally with the other guppies on that particular icesheet. Once they are named, they will take the name of the ice sheet as a last name to avoid potential inbreeding

Most Tritons are actually polygamous! It’s common for one triton to have various partners whether platonic or romantic. Unfortunately this makes it generally hard to tell which guppy is sired by who. To avoid inbreeding, any guppies born on the same ice sheet as you are automatically deemed a sibling (or more specifically and ice-sibling) and it is therefore taboo to have romantic affiliations with them.

Tritons are a very musical species! Being vocally talented (underwater) is a large priority in all of their cultures and is considered a very desirable trait in a mate.

Fighting is also a large aspect culturally as well! It’s not necessarily fighting to the death that’s important or attractive, but rather being able to do so in more dancer-like way, fighting but remaining beautiful, composed and thoughtful. It’s common for there to be competitions for this type of traditional dance-fighting during holidays and celebrations (gill is great at this)

Their religion is based on the currents of the ocean where as certain directions represent physical things, phenomena, concepts, deities and teachings! I will go into further detail at a later date as I haven’t finalized anything yet

That’s all I got for now I fear but I’ll probably more about them as well as the other crew :]

[blessedbyahuntress]

i saw your post asking for requests so i have one! odysseus x chubby!reader who is insecure about being his queen due to their weight?

Alright! *Excited clapping of hands* Thanks for the request!

Too Good

Pairing: Odysseus x Chubby!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Nah, just insecurity on Reader's part

Word count: 690

You stared at your reflection.

Your handmaiden swayed slightly from holding the mirror for so long, snapping you out of your daze. You waved your hand to dismiss her.

As she left the room, you stood, running your hands down your dress. You tried to ignore how large it was; nothing was just your size exactly. The only time you could find anything that wasn’t too small or wasn’t too large, was around your day of birth, when you always asked Odysseus if you could get fitted for a dress.

You looked at the mirror across from you. Gods, this room had too many mirrors. You ducked your head to avoid the searing eyes of your reflection as you shuffled toward your bed.

“What am I going to do with myself?” You asked no one in particular, flopping down on the perfectly made sheets.

~

You stayed there all day, the only one allowed to come into your room being your handmaiden. 

As she brushed your silky hair- you couldn’t see what more to be brushed; it was the only part of your body that you were proud of- she began speaking. “Queen Y/N, are you going to appear at the feast tonight?”

“No,” you mumbled into your pillow.

She sighed, removing the brush from your hair. “Shall I tell King Odysseus?”

“No.”

That earned you another sigh. “He won’t be pleased,” she warned.

“I know.”

~

Odysseus was more worried than furious. He knew you didn’t like going to the feasts he arranged, yes, but he thought you’d want to be at this one.

“Y/N,” he said, marching into your room. He took one glance at your figure, and concern flashed in his eyes.

You scowled, shifting slightly so that your eyes met his. “You didn’t knock,” you said stiffly.

Odysseus raised his eyebrows. 

You groaned as he came closer. “Go away.” You threw an arm over your head.

“Love,” he started. “What’s all this about?”

“Ody,” you whined as he sat down beside you. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Odysseus snorted. “I wasn’t going to press,” he said, gently stroking your hair. 

“That sounds like such a ‘you’ thing to do, though.”

Odysseus made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat before breaking into a smile. “I- yes. That sounds a lot like me,” he admitted.

You returned his grin triumphantly. “Ha, ha, ha!” You cried, imitating how he always acted when he managed to fool you. “I was right!”

Odysseus’s smile turned into more of a smirk. “Oh?” He asked. “And who says?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, though it didn’t have much effect, as seeing you were still laying down. “I do, that’s who.”

“Well, maybe I was just trying to get you to laugh.”

You blinked.

“Ody-” You were rudely interrupted by Odysseus, who put a finger to your lips.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he scolded. “I think I know what this is all about. You’re feeling insecure about your body again, aren’t you?”

You huffed indignantly, which was answer enough for Odysseus.

“Ithaca couldn’t have survived with me being away for so long without you,” he began. “You kept the suitors at bay- and yes, I’ll remind you that you had a hundred and eight suitors lined up to marry you-”

You flicked your wrist. “We both know that they were only here for the title of ‘king’.” 

Odysseus shot you a glare. “Shush,” he ordered. “I wouldn't care if you were the skinniest woman in the world, nor the prettiest.” He leaned over to tap a finger on your forehead. You went cross eyed to glare at it, causing Odysseus to laugh. “All I care for is your smarts and your intellect- very impressive way you fooled the suitors for that long, by the way.”

You groaned and looked away, swatting at his hand. “Why are you so good at this?”

Odysseus blinked, false innocence written all over his expression. “Good at what?”

“You’re too good at making me feel loved,” you complained. 

Odysseus let out a low chuckle. “Well, that was always the point, wasn’t it?”

[measuredingold]

my soul is useless without you

author's note: part two to i'd walk through hell for you is finally here ! i'm not sure if i want to do a third part, but we’ll see lol but i'm currently working on something for folio 👀 as always, i hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated ! also, if yall have any requests, send them my way :) i'm in the mood to write but inspiration is running thin lol

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

divider: @saradika-graphics

word count: 3.5k

cross posted on ao3 / part one

cw/tw: angst, hurt/comfort, Noah Sebastian Is Bad At Feelings But A Good Friend, reader is going through it, anxiety, hints/mentions of depression, noah is just a good guy and cares about reader a lot ( more than he realizes ), friends to lovers pining lol, 18+ minors do not interact

It's when Jolly asks Noah in-between takes if he'd heard from you recently that the anxiety finally settles in.

Because he doesn't know the last time he's heard from you. Which isn't normal.

He's a bad texter, notorious for looking at messages and making a note to reply to them later or replying in his mind, but he always makes sure to reply to you whenever the two of you aren't together. It's just always been a thing, to always have some form of communication with you when he wasn't over at yours or if you weren't at his, so it panics him when he can't remember the last time he'd spoken to you.

He goes through your messages and finds that it wasn't him this time who didn't respond, but instead it was you. Relief washes over him briefly, the guilt of forgetting to respond to his best friend vanishing, but then that anxiety comes back full force. 

You didn't respond.

You always responded.

He sends off a quick message to you, apologizing for being in studio mode and not leaving the house and asks if you're alright. He waits. They go through another take, he somehow doesn't fuck it up even though his mind isn't all the way there. You still haven't responded by the fifth take and that's when he starts to feel sick, stomach twisting with the worry of what could be wrong. 

He tries to think back to if you've ever gone this long without speaking and he can't think of a time when that has happened. 

"Earth to Noah." Jolly's voice pulls him away from his thoughts.

"Oh. Uh, sorry." 

"All good, man." His bandmate eyes him for a second before his eyes flicker towards his phone. "She respond?"

"Um. No." His brows furrowed as he stared at his phone, the black screen mocking him. "Kind of worried."

"Yeah... I am, too." Jolly murmurs. He clicks around on the screen a few times before twisting his chair around to fully face Noah, arms crossing over his chest. "You should go over there. Check and make sure she's alright."

Noah raises a brow at him. "We're in the middle of recording?"

"And?" Jolly shrugs, waving him off. "We got a lot done today, we can wrap it up. Something's obviously wrong and she might need you. That's more important than some song."

He blinks at his friend, letting his words settle in. Jolly's right, he thinks. You are more important than whatever song they're working on. That confirmation makes him feel funny, something tightening beneath his chest but he ignores it, nodding slowly. 

"Okay. You wanna come?"

Jolly shakes his head. "Nah. The both of us might be overwhelming. If you do need me then call, if not..." He shrugs again before lifting himself up out of his chair, groaning softly to himself, "...might be best for just you to go. She'd probably feel better if it's just you, anyways. You know how she is."

Noah isn't quite sure what he means, but nods along anyways. He checks his phone again and still no text, but he notices that you read the message. He should feel relieved at the sign of life but it only makes his anxiety worse, stomach twisting violently. 

"Okay. I'll text you when I get there." 

He's practically running out of the studio after that, the only thing on his mind was you. He needed to make sure you were okay. Deep down he knew that if this was him, you would've already been here, and he feels guilty all over again. He should've paid more attention, shouldn't have let this slip his mind so easily. He thinks back to your last messages together and how you were talking about your work day, overwhelmed and quite frankly, upset about it all. He should've paid closer attention.

He makes it to yours in record time, legs moving him to the door before he can even think about it. He sends up a quiet prayer to the universe that you had given him an extra key months ago and uses it to unlock the door, slowly pushing it open.

He calls out your name, but no answer.

His eyes sweep over your apartment as he enters, scanning the open space. Your kitchen looked untouched, minus the few dirty dishes that were in your sink. A few boxes of Chinese take-out and some bottles of water. He feels almost relieved. You'd been eating and as far as he can tell you'd been keeping yourself somewhat hydrated, so that was a plus. He knows how bad you can be when you get into this headspace - brain fog, forgetting to do basic things like eating and drinking water. But this... this is a step in the right direction.

His eyes move towards the living room and it's just about the same. A pile of blankets lay together at one end of the couch, pillows scattered along the length of the cushions. You'd been there quite a bit, he can tell, but other than that nothing was too bad.

Noah feels like he can breathe for just a second, eyes going straight to the cracked open door to your bedroom. He hears the faint hum of your television and hears the muffled voice of your favorite characters in your favorite comfort show. His chest tightens. You only ever watch it when things get bad inside your head, when things start to become too overwhelming and you need to cling onto something that you know. Something that won't throw any surprises at you and make things worse. 

He makes his way towards your room, ready to call out your name again as he pushes open your door but stops halfway. You're curled up in your bed, covered in a pile of blankets. He steps closer to get a better look at you and he doesn't think he's ever seen you look so peaceful. Lashes against the tops of your cheeks, lips parted. The crease between your brows is relaxed, which never happens. 

Noah takes a deep breath.

You're alright. He can see that you're safe and sound, at least for now, and that's enough for him. He shuts your door behind him and makes his way back into the main room, taking his shoes off by the door. He takes another deep breath to center himself as he looks around your space, hand finding its way to his hair. 

He decides he'll clean up your kitchen and living room. It isn't too bad, and it won't take him too long. He also just... doesn't want to leave yet. He'll wait until you wake up. Make you talk to him, ask what’s up. Probably make you eat something. Then he'll head home. 

Sounds like a good plan to him.

Even though your door is shut he still tries to be quiet, making sure to carefully wash and put away your dishes without making too much of a fuss. After the dishes, he throws away all the take-out boxes and water bottles. He even makes a note to take the trash out for you when he's all done, because he knows you would've done it for him. 

The constant reminder of you and knowing that you'd do something like this for him, and have, is the motivation he needs to continue. It makes him feel warm all over and he thinks how lucky he is to have someone like you as his best friend.

And he definitely ignores the bitter taste in his mouth at the word best friend. 

It's maybe an hour after he's finished, curled up on your couch that now has its pillows in place, and the pile of blankets are neatly folded and put away, that you finally emerge from your room. You rub the sleep out of your eyes, not noticing him on the couch at first, but when you do you make a noise of surprise that has Noah laughing.

"Hey."

He notices the slight flush of your cheeks but ignores it. "Hi?"

"I uh," He scratches the back of his neck, sending you a sheepish smile. "Hadn't talked to you in a few days. Got worried. So did Jolly. Told me to come over. Check on you. You were sleeping so I just," He throws his arms around, gesturing to the space around him, "cleaned up a little? Figured you would appreciate a clean house when you woke up so..." 

He's talking too much, he knows it, but he can't seem to stop the word vomit from coming out. Noah knows you wouldn't mind, but he was nervous, especially because all you do is stare at him without saying a word. Stare and stare and stare until you sniff, brows furrowing.

"...Thanks."

You're unusually quiet and it makes his stomach turn again. You sniff again and Noah swears you look like you're on the verge of tears, and he sits up on the couch. He watches you closely as you wring your hands together in front of you, mouth opening and closing as if you want to say something. You don't, and Noah catches the exact moment when your bottom lip trembles, and he's moving before he can even think about it.

"Hey. It's okay. You’re okay."

He tries to keep his voice soft and free of any panic, but his heart is beating so rapidly against his chest he swears you can hear it. You sniff again, head shaking as your lip continues to tremble and he does the only thing he can think of. He pulls you into his arms and presses you into his chest. You don't move for a second, but eventually your arms circle around his waist. You squeeze, tight, but he doesn't mind. He just squeezes you back. 

Your body begins to shake as the cries start to rack through you, the sound muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Noah swallows down the lump that was beginning to form, cheek resting on the top of your head. He's always hated when you cry. He himself wasn’t one for much display of emotions, but when it came to the people he cared about, he hated seeing them anything but happy. 

Especially you.

He's seen you cry a few times. Well, more than a few times. Sometimes it was over nothing, and then sometimes it was over an incredibly cute dog you'd seen scrolling on Twitter. He didn't mind those, but when it was over something serious, he fucking hated that. He never wanted you to be anything but happy, and whenever you weren’t, it’s like a piece of him breaks. 

“What’s wrong?” He whispers into your hair, trying to pull you even closer to him.

“Everything.” You eventually mumble against his chest, sucking in a deep breath as you try to control your tears. “Fucking everything is wrong.” 

He fucking hates the way that answer makes him feel. His chest feels like it's on fire, and he swears his heart just fucking broke at how sad you sounded, voice muffled by his shirt. He squeezes you to his chest again.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

He wants you to talk about it, to tell him what's wrong so he can make it better. Noah knows it'll probably be damn near impossible to even do that, but god, he'd try absolutely anything to make your tears stop. You take a long moment to respond, trying to control your breathing, before you eventually shake your head against his chest.

"Not right now." 

"Okay.” He mumbles, raising a hand to smooth down your hair. “That's okay, we don't have to."

"Thank you."

You stay like that for a moment, in the middle of your living room. Noah doesn't plan on letting go any time soon, thinking for a split second that he wished he could keep you in his arms forever. If you were there, he'd always know if you were okay. The thought fades before he could think too hard about it when you finally pull away from him, and Noah catches sight of your slight red and blotchy face. He frowns.

He doesn't remember the last time he's ever seen you so sad. So defeated. Whatever was going on really pained you, and he wishes you'd just tell him so he can fix it. Another passing, fleeting thought, but he thinks he'd do just about anything right now to see you smile again. 

"Have you eaten?" He breaks the silence between the two of you, not waiting to hear whatever you were planning on saying.

You blink up at him. "Um... no. Not since this morning. Had some fruit and coffee." 

"I figured." He guides you towards the couch, practically pushing you onto it. You snort when he grabs a throw blanket and dumps it onto you. "Pick something to watch." 

It's not a question, but more of a command, and Noah ignores the way his chest flutters at the small smile you give him. He turned away from you, pushing whatever feeling was brewing inside of him so far down and got his brain to focus. Food. You need food. To be honest, so does he. He’d been so worried about you for the last few hours that he didn’t even think of getting something to eat. 

It takes him a few minutes of rummaging around your kitchen to settle on making something easy - instant ramen. He’s surprised you hadn't eaten it all in the week you’ve been off-grid, but thankful nonetheless. Noah's way too impatient to wait any longer to actually cook something, especially knowing you hadn't eaten anything since this morning. Every so often he looked over his shoulder to watch you, wishing you'd say something, but would find you either staring blankly at the television or your phone.

A bitter taste settles in the back of his throat every time he turns back around to the stove. He hated this, and he fucking hated that he couldn't do a goddamn thing about it.

He brings your bowl to you once he's finished, already making a mental note to clean up the mess he had made while cooking. You blink up at him and reach for it, giving him a quiet, "Thank you."

Noah doesn't verbally say anything, just hums out a response as he ventures back into the kitchen to grab you something to drink. When he comes back he notices you had slowly begun to eat, and he feels his shoulders finally relax. Just knowing you ate something eases him, the tension in his body leaving him completely. You're already reaching out for the glass of water in his hand that he happily hands off to you, giving you a gentle smile.

"Need anything else?"

You shake your head, peering up at him. "No. Just want you to come sit with me." 

That same fluttery feeling beneath his chest returns and he wishes he could ignore it again, but it doesn't go away. No, it stays perched underneath his chest, as if it's decided that it's making a home there and never leaving. He doesn't say anything, just nods at your request before grabbing his own bowl and a Pepsi you had in the fridge before making his way back to you.

You wait until he's settled on the couch to scoot closer to him, legs pressed flushed together. You're already halfway through your ramen and for a split second he forgets that weird feeling in his chest, instead focusing on the intense pride filling him. He was able to get you to eat, he was able to help out in some way. Knowing you were alright for the most part and it was from his doing made him feel good.

The both of you eat in silence as whatever show you decided to put on plays in the background. He’s just now realized it was The Office, and he huffs out a small laugh at something Michael Scott said. Another one of your comfort shows, something easy. 

It isn't until you both are finished with your food and Noah's back in the kitchen cleaning up that you finally speak. He doesn't hear you come up behind him, focused on washing the dishes and making sure everything's clean and good to go, so he can't help but jump when he feels your arms slip around his waist and squeeze.

"Shit." He swears, followed by a breathy chuckle. "You scared me."

You don't say anything to that, just squeeze him harder and he feels you press your face against his back. Then ever so softly, he picks up the faintest, "Thank you," muffled against his back. His face flushes, eyes casting down to the soapy water his hands were currently submerged in. He's glad you can't see the blush on his cheeks, and he fucking hopes you can't hear the way his heart is pounding beneath his chest. Can probably feel it, though, and that makes his face burn even more. 

"For what?" He manages to mumble out, resuming his efforts. Your arms squeeze his waist again.

"For being here." You sound so small. "You don't have to be, but you are, and I can't thank you enough for that."

"You'd do it for me." His response comes easily, voice nonchalant because it's true. He knows you'd do the same for him, and the thought has his stomach flipping every which way. "And have done it for me. It's the least I can do."

You're silent after that but don't part from him, and Noah can't help the smile that spreads across his lips at the feeling of you rubbing your face against him. It makes him feel warm all over, and that damned fluttery feeling in his chest is back yet again. You stay like that until he's finished with the dishes, moving with him as he shuffles to the side to dry them off. You don't pick your head up even when he manages to turn in your arms, finally facing you. 

Noah's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him and now you can rub your face against his chest. He laughs softly, pressing his cheek against the top of your head.

"Still don't wanna talk about it?" He knows he's pressing but he can't help it, a part of him still needs to know what's wrong and how he can fix this for you.

You shake your head. "Not yet. Tomorrow, okay? I just... don't wanna think about it tonight."

"Okay." He thinks he can handle that. 

"Thank you." You say again and finally lift your head up from his chest, blinking up at him. There's still a sadness there, roaming around behind your eyes, but not as prevalent as it was earlier. He’s at least done something right. "I'm really fucking lucky to have you, you know that, right?"

The way you're looking up at him is overwhelming, Noah's throat tightening at the softness surrounding your tired eyes. You smile at him and this time it reaches your gaze, not faked but real, and his heart slams against his chest. A thought passes his mind again, something he hasn't thought of in years, and he pushes it back with a hard swallow.

"You're just saying that because you didn't have to do the dishes."

You roll your eyes but that smile never drops from your lips, and Noah thinks he'd like to keep you smiling like that for the rest of his life. 

"Shut up. I'm being serious." You're giggling now, eyes crinkling and he catches a glimpse of the real you for the first time in hours - probably days, weeks even. 

"So am I." Noah yelps when you pinch his side, your laughter growing louder. "Hey!"

"I'm trying to be nice here, asshole. You can at least try, too."

He softens at that, eyes meeting yours. He's well aware his face is on fire right now, cheeks pink.

"You already know I'm lucky to have you. Didn't realize I had to say it."

Even if he doesn't say it often, he is very lucky. So incredibly lucky to have you in his life, for sticking by him and for understanding him. For always being patient with him. Jolly reminds him occasionally how lucky he is to have you, how all of them are lucky to have someone like you in their lives. He doesn't know what the fuck he or anyone did to be so deserving of you, but dammit, he's fucking thankful for it everyday. 

You don't say anything, just continue to beam up at him and Noah can't seem to stop himself, tilting his head down to brush his lips against your forehead. He feels you press further into his chest, if it was even possible, and practically melt in his arms. 

He wishes he could keep you here forever, tucked away in his arms. He thinks there isn't much he wouldn't do to keep you safe, to make sure you were okay, and that thought alone scares him. He'd never admit it, at least not out loud, and he tucks that thought away for another time. Or to possibly be never thought of again, he doesn't know. He doesn't really care.

No, all he cares about right now is that you're okay, at least for now, and that you're nestled against his chest like it's the only place you want to be. 

And that's enough for him. 

[s1lu3s]

WELL-DESERVED REST, zayne.

warnings: suggestive content +18, oral (fem receiving), masturbation. pairing: zayne x y/n notes: GUYYSS OMGGG WE REACHED THE 150 NOTES WHAT THE HELL?! i also wanna thank you for all the reblogs 😭🩵 just wanted to thank you very much, this means a lot for me, bc i honestly thought that i would never reach something like this sooo in order to celebrate, i write this one about our lovely doctor, hope u enjoy it the same as the rest <3 credits for the banner of mdni to roseschoices.

Christmas was always a very bad time to visit Zayne at work. No matter what time of year it is, no one stops having incidents because of it. In spite of everything, you don't stop going there to see him so he can rest even if it's just for a few minutes.

Your poor boyfriend has to deal with all kinds of people and you just want to make his workday a little more pleasant. So you take the bag of food from his favorite restaurant, add the dessert from the best place where they make the best popsicles and leave it on the passenger seat.

Today you wanted to surprise Zayne with a nice dinner even though he told you to stay home because of the cold weather. But you can't sit still and do nothing when he's going to work day and night no matter when it's his shift.

So you park your car on a street a little further back from the hospital so he won't see it and walk over there. Since you warned Greyson about your plans, he gave you just this once a key to enter by the back door of the hospital, which can only be used by the staff. You would return it to him. Or not, if Zayne continues to work the same way as he is. 

When you finish climbing the eight flights of stairs, you end up with irregular breathing. Instead of using the elevator, you've had to use the only alternative left to avoid all chances of your boyfriend seeing you here. But it will be worth it, you assure yourself, because you plan to have this Christmas dinner even if it's not at home. 

So before knocking on his office door you finish controlling your breathing, stretch your back and tie your hair up to give it some grace and movement. You knock a couple of times and manage to hear a low “come in” before you cross the threshold of the door and close it by subtly turning the knob.

“Merry Christmas, Dr. Zayne.” Just the first of your words was enough for him to recognize you and raise his head from the pile of papers scattered on his desk. It must have been a very hard day for him to have his desk like this.

You observe without saying anything about his reaction and how he frowns when you place the bag with the food on one of the chairs in front of him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks in his usual dry tone.

“Can't I bring dinner to my boyfriend? “You bite your lip as you approach his chair. “Besides, I also brought your favorite dessert.” You smile playfully, pointing to the bag with the popsicles.

“I expressly told you not to come.” He replies warily, not taking his disapproving gaze away as you settle in and give him a small kiss on the cheek.

“And are you going to do anything about it, Dr. Zayne?” You bring your lips to his as you start playing with the buttons of his shirt.

“For the moment, I don't know. You like being close to the edge too much, though.

“What can I say, anything to help my boyfriend unwind from work.” You chuckle.

“Hum.” He sighs, as he rests his head on your chest and moves his arms over your thighs, tightening his grip on you. He lingers a few seconds too long, breathing on your breasts and spreading his soft breath through the thin fabric of the dress you wear. You feel your nipples perky.

“Zayne?” You call out, but he ignores you. He slides his hands down your legs to your buttocks. Your breathing hitches and you feel your pulse quicken. “Don't y-you want to have dinner?”

“I don't have that kind of hunger right now.” He replies flatly, as he stands up with you in his arms, pushing the contents of the table aside, “Or you prefer not to continue?”

You know from the gaze he gives you that you are incapable of saying no to him. Not when his eyes yearn to devour you and even less when you have him like this, caressing your skin.

“It 's okay.” You answer breathlessly, especially when his hands rest on your knees and he gently spreads your legs to slip between them.

“What am I going to do with you?” He sinks his head into the crook of your neck, smelling your vanilla scent.

He moves one of his hands from your hip to your back to unzip your dress. The fabric slides gracefully down your skin, leaving you naked from the torso. He helps you finally remove the dress, which falls to the floor.

And you're left in heels with your underwear.  

“I should deny you this, because it's not the first time you've completely disregarded what I tell you.”He whispers, kissing your neck and tightening his grip on your thighs.

The only thing you are able to hear is his heavy breathing and your heartbeat, sure that he is able to hear them too.

“But in turn, I should reward you with it, because if not for you, my life would have become an absolute mess.”

He pulls the thong up, rubbing against your already wet slit. You sigh in anticipation, clinging to his shoulders.

“Zayne…”

He unties your bra and pulls it back. His mouth moves down to one of your nipples. He circles it with his tongue and bites down gently. He kisses it again before turning his gaze back to you.

“It's impossible for me to keep my hands off you. Especially if you look this... tasty.”

He wraps the edges of the thong around his fingers and pushes down slowly. Your skin bristles and you shiver from the cold. He has once again let out his Evol. 

“So... what should I do?” He stammers. His husky voice makes you even wetter if that's possible. “You don't say anything now?”

He rests his hands behind you, making you lean back slightly.

“I guess as long as you put work aside, anything's fine for me.” Is the only witty reply you can think of.

Zayne smiles slyly at your failed sarcastic comment.

“You're damn stubborn... You know that, don't you?”

You just giggle.

“You still like me though.” He looks back at you.

“You do.” He offers, before kissing your shoulder again and bending down to you. Kissing and licking your skin, Zayne crouches down before you. He holds your left leg and continues to leave a trail of wet kisses down to your knee.

You sigh, throwing your head back.

You don't even dare to move a muscle when Zayne finally slides his tongue shallowly over your needy slit. Her warm breath moistens it even more, something that makes you shudder and makes your stomach tingle slightly.

“Don't forget to breathe, darling.” He smirks condescendingly, holding your leg tighter. You blush more.

His gaze meets yours before he runs his tongue along your folds again, this time going over you thoroughly from top to bottom.

A sweet moan escapes your lips as he continues to devour you relentlessly. He thrusts his tongue as far in as possible, teasing you and turning you on more as he makes room at your entrance and plays with it. Your thighs are trembling, so he spreads your legs wider and immobilizes you so he can taste you better.

“Z-Zayne...” You babble senselessly. The heat of his mouth on you consumes you in the most exquisite way. You arch your back and press his face to you, pulling at his hair.

“I like order, but seeing the chaos in you every time you're about to come is absolutely awesome.” He looks at you with a look of adoration and devotion in his eyes that makes you tender. He kisses your inner thigh and his mouth comes back to rest on your clit, circling and caressing it. His torrid tongue finds its way into your folds and continues to lick, up and down, without pause, but either not as quickly.

You gasp again as he inserts two of his fingers and begins scissoring them. You feel yourself getting more and more on edge and along with it, Zayne's mouth keeps licking everything you give him.

“Your taste is so addictive... so sweet.” He dives back between your thighs, sucking, licking and feeling you cling tightly to his fingers.

“P-please...” You whisper. You feel your vision blur as he continues to push his fingers and rub your clit delicately.

Your consciousness becomes fuzzy as you are caressed and filled. So you feel somewhat empty as he pulls his fingers out of you, licks them and looks at you with his desire-filled eyes.

“Forget about the damn popsicles. You are definitely my new favorite dessert.”

[yourownutopia]

Anomaly [Jin Woo x !Shadow !Fem Reader]

When the Shadow Monarch adds you to his ranks, he has no idea what he's in for. Not only are you uncontrollable, but you also harbor a secret that even the System keeps hidden from him. As he searches for a way to bring you under control, it becomes clear that your existence exposes a flaw in the perfect structure of the shadows—one that no one could have foreseen. Why don’t you yield to his will, and more importantly, why doesn’t the System want you to remember?

Information: The prologue is written in the third person. I’m honestly unsure whether I want to keep it that way or write the following chapters from different POVs. Feel free to let me know if you’d be interested in a second-person perspective as well.

This idea has been stuck in my head ever since I saw a similar start to a roleplay on Character AI. I’ve had so many thoughts since then, and I hope I can integrate them meaningfully into the story!

I’m known for starting ideas and never finishing them, but I really hope it’ll be different with this story. At the very least, I still have plenty of fuel in the tank and a lot of motivation to write! <3

Ideas, story requests, and feedback are always welcome, so don’t hesitate to reach out 😊

Enjoy the prologue!

Note: I want to clarify that English is not my first language. I’m sorry if there are any mistakes or if I sometimes use incorrect words. Please feel free to send me corrections so I can continue improving my skills! 😊

[Prologue] “Arise.”

The Shadow Monarch’s voice reverberated through the room, deep and commanding, shattering the silence like fragile glass. Clear and resonant, his words echoed off the stone walls, lingering as though the air itself sought to hold onto them. The sound was low and powerful, vibrating faintly, giving the room a brief sense of life before the quiet crept back in.

A translucent window appeared in the air, the oppressive dark aura blanketing the ground retreating like mist. Once again, the extraction had failed. [Soul Extraction failed. 1/3 attempts remaining.]

Jin-Woo’s cold gaze flickered down to the lifeless figure lying on the ground. He exhaled deeply, raising his hand again.

“Is this truly where you wish to meet your end?” he asked, his eyes beginning to glow faintly. His voice was the only thing animating the desolate room. Vines crawled up the cracked stone walls, fractured beams of sunlight piercing through the shattered ceiling above. It looked like an abandoned boss chamber—ancient extinguished torches lined the walls, weapon gouges marred the hard stone—but there was no trace of life to be found. Not even the body before him radiated vitality.

So why couldn’t he extract her shadow?

Had it been too long since this monster’s death? Monsters decayed, yet her body showed no signs of rot. Only the deep lacerations across her skin, the missing heartbeat, and the faint, oppressive aura around her gave away the truth—she was dead.

“What a pitiful end,” he murmured. Jin-Woo didn’t expect a response, but something about her unnerved him enough to speak aloud, as though testing the air for answers.

“Arise,” he commanded once more, his hand tightening into a fist as though he could will her soul to obey.

The black smoke coiled around the lifeless body, intertwining with the tendrils rising from her chest. Slowly, the shadow took shape. Jin-Woo’s lips curled into a victorious smirk as the dark form solidified into the outline of a woman. Her glowing white eyes locked onto nothingness, the telltale mark of a newly risen shadow.

The system window popped up again, prompting for a name. Jin-Woo glanced at his latest recruit, who now knelt before him, one leg folded beneath her and the other bent upright. Her gaze remained forward, never meeting his.

“You belong to my Shadow Army now,” Jin-Woo declared, lowering his hand. “From this day on, you will serve me and obey my commands.”

He pondered briefly, then began typing a name into the prompt. Just as his finger hovered over the “Confirm” button, the window glitched, flickering erratically before closing. The chosen name replaced by another. [Y/N]

“No.”

The voice was so faint it barely registered. Jin-Woo paused, convinced he must have imagined it. Yet, before he could dismiss the notion, the shadows surrounding her physical body dissipated, retreating into the darkness along with the lifeless form on the ground.

“What?” His voice was sharp, his composure slipping for an instant as the word lingered in disbelief.

“No.” The second time was louder, firmer. The shadowy figure began to rise, her form shifting. The darkness coating her crumbled away, replaced by color. Her eyes, once glowing white, now gleamed a vibrant shade of [E/C], locked onto his in defiance. Her hair, [H/C], shimmered with an unnatural vitality, stark against the bleak surroundings.

Jin-Woo’s usually impassive expression flickered with subtle astonishment. A shadow capable of speech? Only Beru had ever displayed such an ability.

He cast his gaze toward the floating information above her:

Name: [Y/N] Level: ???

He couldn’t read her level. And she already had a name.

A tense silence filled the space, his dark aura intensifying until even Igris, his loyal Blood-Red Commander, shivered. Yet, [Y/N] stood unflinching, her jaw tight as she met Jin-Woo’s penetrating stare. Despite the icy dread running down her spine, an unyielding resolve kept her rooted. She refused to kneel.

“I refuse,” she ground out through clenched teeth, watching as the black-haired man’s glowing eyes narrowed into sharp slits. Her voice was thin but steady.

Before she could react, he had grabbed her chin and leaned down toward her; after all, he was a good head taller than she was. His grip was firm, not enough to hurt, but enough to convey his dominance. His hands were icy cold. Could shadows even feel such sensations? His face was mere inches from hers, and his piercing gaze sent a cold shiver crawling up her limbs.

[You are forbidden from harming your master.]

The window that briefly popped up caught her eye for a moment before her gaze returned to the Shadow Monarch’s icy stare.

“What was that?” he asked in a deep voice, as though his physical intimidation and the flicker in his glowing eyes could compel her to reconsider her defiance in light of what he was capable of.

“Say that again,” he growled, his tone icy and measured, daring her to reconsider. He was giving her one more chance to retract her initial refusal and do what—at least in his mind—was the only correct thing. [Y/N] stared at him for a moment. Her irritation over the situation gradually gave way to anger, which settled heavily in her chest. Who did he think he was? More importantly, who did he think she was? ... Who was she?

But there was no time to dwell on that thought, as the Shadow Monarch grew impatient. He made this clear with a brief but painful squeeze of his hand. But her defiance didn’t falter. “I. Refuse.” The words were deliberate, slow, and unwavering.

For the first time, Jin-Woo felt something beyond annoyance—curiosity laced with disbelief. Never had a shadow disobeyed him. His dominion was absolute. So why did she stand so boldly against him?

“You’re either very brave or very foolish,” he said, his voice low as his violet eyes flickered dangerously. “Do you even realize who I am?”

Her lips curled into a faint smirk. “When you’re dead, titles lose their meaning. Honestly, nothing really matters anymore.”

For a fraction of a second, Jin-Woo’s stoic mask slipped. Her words, blunt and logical, were disconcerting. Yet his pride demanded he reassert his authority.

“If you won’t obey me, I have no use for you,” he declared coldly. “I’ll kill you again a second time”

“Go ahead.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, her expression challenging. “I have nothing to lose.” Something in her tone—half daring, half resigned—made Jin-Woo hesitate. The tension between them crackled like static, thick enough to choke. Shadows coiled at his feet, thick as ink, creeping toward her like serpents. Yet, as they reached her, they paused, lingering for a moment as though recognizing her as one of their own before retreating.

Even Jin-Woo couldn’t deny what he had just witnessed. Releasing her chin, he let out a heavy sigh, his energy dissipating as the oppressive weight in the room lifted.

This was no ordinary shadow.

The shadows retreated as quickly as they had appeared, his eyes returning to their cool gray, and the immense energy he exuded vanished entirely.

He couldn’t simply let the chance of having a powerful shadow slip away, even if her lack of respect infuriated him to no end. The fact that he couldn’t determine her rank and that she didn’t yield to his will suggested she must be strong.

[Y/N] exhaled in relief; the whole ordeal hadn’t left her unscathed, but she was incredibly fortunate that the black-haired man hadn’t killed her on the spot. Despite her earlier words, she really didn’t want to die again.

His cold expression remained unchanged, but his gaze lingered on the [H/C]-haired woman, who stared back at him blankly.

Her appearance was human—different from his other shadows. She had color, glowing eyes, and if not for the name and lack of rank floating above her head, he wouldn’t have even guessed she was part of his army.

“Let me put it another way: as the one who revived you, you don’t have a choice but to follow my commands. So stop being so stubborn and just obey,” he said, his voice slicing through the silence as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Stubborn? Me? Does he even listen to himself? [Y/N] thought.

“Clearly, we’re both stubborn,” she stated , rubbing her chin, which still bore faint pressure marks from his firm grip.

She didn’t notice the faint flicker of concern in his eyes. Did he hurt her?

“If you’d stop being stubborn and accept that you can’t just go around resurrecting people and making them your slaves,” she retorted, earning another angry glare from the black-haired man. He at least seemed to accept that physical intimidation wasn’t going to work on her.

Jin-Woo turned slightly away from her and opened the window displaying the current number of his shadows.

“I revived you for a reason. You are now part of my army and will serve me. End of discussion.”

[Y/N] laughed humorlessly—a cynical laugh. He still didn’t get it.

She rolled her eyes, though there was that peculiar feeling in her chest—a strange connection that had been there since her resurrection. It felt more like a tether pulling at her core, drawing her toward him.

But she didn’t feel compelled to obey him—so why should she?

“Nope, as long as you act like an asshole, I’m not even going to consider it.”

The Shadow Monarch froze mid-movement, shooting her a deadly side-eye.

Did she just insult him?

His frustration grew with every passing second. No one had ever defied him like this, especially not someone he had revived.

“And why should I be nice to you? You’re the one defying me here. You’re the one refusing to obey me. What have you done to deserve my kindness when all you’ve shown me is disrespect?” he said.

[Y/N] responded without thinking, “You reap what you sow.”

Yes, he was an asshole, and she couldn’t stand him, but her reaction wasn’t exactly the best icebreaker either. Besides, they were both in a pretty crappy situation, and it wouldn’t get any better if they kept clashing.

Plus—what choice did she have? She had no idea who or what she was, where she was, or where she was supposed to go.

A resigned sigh escaped her lips, and her tense posture relaxed a little.

“Maybe... just maybe, we got off on the wrong foot,” she said, her voice softening slightly, almost innocent—though theatrically so.

The Shadow Monarch was once again surprised by her words. She had personality—and plenty of it, apparently.

He could insist that she was his shadow and that he was therefore superior to her, but what would be the point in the end? Perhaps it was time to swallow his pride and admit he might have been wrong.

Maybe he had simply spent too much time alone, consumed by his role as the Shadow Monarch, losing whatever social skills he once had.

His expression remained cool for a moment longer before his features softened slightly, and he scratched the back of his head. “That’s an understatement,” he muttered, reflecting on how he was almost the cause of her second death. [Y/N]’s eyes lit up slightly. Had she just detected a hint of humor in his voice?

His tone had lost some of its anger, which gave her a bit of relief.

“Okay. What am I even supposed to do, and where the hell are we anyway?” she asked, glancing around the room and taking it in. She knew she had seen this place before—clearly, it was where she had died—but it didn’t feel familiar. Jin-Woo, still a bit taken aback by her sudden cooperation, followed her gaze.

“We’re in a dungeon,” he said matter-of-factly. He really didn’t share more than he absolutely had to, did he? As for what she was supposed to do? Well, his shadows usually fought for him, but what about her? She had no weapon and didn’t seem magically inclined—at least he couldn’t sense any significant mana coming from her.

“Follow me. That’s enough for now,” he finally said, turning on his heel. His cloak lifted slightly with the abrupt movement before settling back down.

Jin-Woo didn’t look back, his footsteps silent on the cold stone floor. The young woman hesitated for a moment, but the invisible force seemed to nudge her forward, almost pushing her to follow him. She let out another frustrated sigh. “Okay,” she said, taking a few quick steps to catch up with him, though she stayed a few meters behind. “I’ll follow you,” she said after a brief pause. “But I won’t follow your orders blindly. If a command seems pointless to me, I’ll refuse,” she added—a compromise she could live with. Jin-Woo stopped abruptly, nearly causing her to bump into him. He paused, processing her words. For a moment, he hesitated. With a sigh, his expression softened slightly. “Fine. I’ll accept your compromise,” he said, reluctantly agreeing to her terms. “But if your reason for refusing seems pointless to me, don’t expect my mercy,” he added without glancing at her and continued walking. Though he was satisfied with this for now, there were limits—even for her.

What had he gotten himself into?

[artsninspo]

THAT’S MUFASAAA 🦁 | TIKTOK REACTION - RIO X READER

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

: ̗̀➛ rio's library - good girl nbc

Summary: This short one-shot explores the viral "Aaron Pierre, that's mufasaaaa" TikTok moment happening right now and how Rio would react to hearing the sound on his lady's phone. Marcus makes an appearance in this one he's about 11 years old.

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

Word-Count: ~800

Your timelines have been flooded with the handsome stranger ever since the popularity of Rebel Ridge. You’ve never been into violence or action films, but Rio insisted you watch the movie with him on a cozy movie night. As you snuggled into your man’s side, you couldn’t help but notice the actor’s striking eyes and impressive frame. If only that had been the end of it.

For the past week, Marcus had been singing about wanting a brother, leaving his father grinning and watching you the same way a lion eyes an antelope. Marcus had already seen the movie once with his mom—perks of co-parenting. But watching it again in theaters with you and Rio was a second treat.

Rio sat between the two of you, his arms around both as you and Marcus reached into his popcorn bucket, your eyes glued to the big screen. Rio, however, fell asleep halfway through, leaving you and Marcus to enjoy the film. You exchanged excited glances, whispers, and laughter as the action unfolded.

…

A few days later, Rio was on soccer practice duty when he noticed Marcus laughing at his phone.

“What now?” Rio asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The voice actor for Mufasa is going viral,” Marcus chuckled, jogging his father’s memory. The last time something went viral on TikTok, it had been a prank at Rio’s expense.

“For what?” Rio asked, parking in the soccer field lot.

“Women think he’s handsome. Even my mom thinks so,” Marcus said, handing his dad the phone.

Rio watched the harmless video of the actor walking down a hallway to a chorus of women’s cheers. His eyes darted to the flurry of comments, which left him both amused and unsettled.

“That’s not even the funniest part,” Marcus laughed, showing him a parody video of men complaining about the trend.

Rio shook his head, feeling too old to understand the appeal.

“I need to talk to your mom about you having access to this app,” he muttered.

“What? I’m on your side! Now, if you hear it, you’ll know what Y/N is watching,” Marcus teased.

“Y/N ain’t watching that nonsense. Go on and make some goals,” Rio snapped, shaking his head as Marcus laughed, hopping out of the truck.

Still, Rio couldn’t shake his suspicion. He’d heard you humming around the house more than usual, especially songs from the movie. Jealousy crept in, his possessive nature stirring. The only man you should be watching on a loop was him. If not, maybe he wasn’t doing his job at home.

…

After practice, Marcus ran in, hugging you and eagerly recounting his day. Rio watched as you listened attentively, plating food for both of them.

“Hey, baby,” you greeted, tiptoeing to kiss his lips.

“Hey, mama,” he murmured, holding you close.

“Hey, Y/N, been on TikTok lately?” Marcus asked as he sat at the table, his hands freshly washed.

“Not yet today. Did you send me something?” you asked, reaching for your phone.

“Nah, I was just wondering if you saw anything good,” he replied.

“No, just the usual jokes and stuff,” you said with a shrug before sitting down to dinner.

You listened as Marcus chattered about his day. After homework and bedtime, Rio headed to his basement gym, newly inspired, before joining you in bed.

As you scrolled through your TikTok feed, Rio worked on his phone, arranging his schedule.

“Aaron Pierre… that’s Mufasaaaa,” a video played, the chant catching his attention. He glanced at you, noticing the slight smile on your lips.

The sound repeated, and Rio suppressed a groan. Just as he was about to grab your phone, you scooted closer, showing him the screen.

“Baby, look at these guys trying to kill the fun! You know the actor from Rebel Ridge? He’s having a viral moment, and the men are so bitter,” you laughed, showing him parody videos.

Rio smirked, scrolling through the comments. The thirst on display amused him, though he wasn’t thrilled about your interest.

“Do you think he’s fine like the comments claim?” he asked, casually posing the trap.

“I don’t know. I haven’t really paid attention—I have what I want,” you said with a shrug, making him smile.

“Good answer. Now, I don’t want to hear that sound again,” he muttered. “If I do, you and Marcus are getting banned from that app,” he added, sounding like a congressman.

“Yes, Daddy,” you teased, putting your phone on the charger and turning off the lights.

“That’s right,” he said, his voice sleepy.

authors note: ooooh chile, this is such a fun moment for the internet. the girls have been acting up and hellish and i LIVE 😂 first fic of the year. i hope you enjoy 🥰 is this how you think rio reacts or is he crashing out lol?

: ̗̀➛ Loved the story? ❣ Like, ❝ Comment, ↺ Reblog

tags:

@meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every Day Until Season 5

Day 3 - Mike's incriminating dilemma

I think one of the most obvious byler proofs to me that barely gets any notice or recognition that it is very convincing, is the fact that Mike seems totally unwilling to talk to Will about his problems with El. Whenever Will is spoken to about the issues they have, it's very noticeable to the audience that Mike talks about it in very general terms, making sure he doesn't end up spilling what they spoke about.

This is simply because it is incriminating.

It's also the reason why he doesn't tell Will he called him multiple times even though he easily could! It would solve a lot between the two of them if he had admitted he called him (which we got confirmation about from Dustin). However, he would rather not, and would rather sacrifice himself in a sense than have Will know how much he called, turning the focus away from himself.

So again, why wouldn't Mike just tell Will about what happened? He knows that it might help him, since he's definitely told a friend about his relationship problems before (Lucas). However, this time he's hiding something bigger -- he does not love El. He would much rather have Will stay in the dark about what he really 'needs to say' than have Will ask him more questions. He's worried that if he gives too much detail, he'll be outed as a liar, he'll be figured out by Will. There is no other reason for hiding what El wants him to say. He could tell Will, but he's simply worried about the questioning this would earn.

The fact that he's lying is one of the reasons he makes this face here:

This is when Will says 'Whatever you didn't say, you can say it to her then', referring to when Mike sees her again. He believes he's comforting Mike that she's safe and he will see her again.

At first, Mike grins at Will, simple because... he's happy that Will's comforting him. But then he starts to dig deeper into what he's just heard and what it then means. That's when he almost startles, blinks rapidly and looks nervous. The internal conflict is clear on his face, and the directors want you to take notice of it.

It's almost like he's disliking the fact he has to lie to Will here. He doesn't like that Will has no idea how deep this thing actually goes, and it's really not as simple as saying I love you when he sees El again.

All in all:

Will has no idea that he's encouraging Mike to say I love you to El.

He believes he's comforting Mike on the fact that El is safe and that Mike will see her again.

But Mike's worried about saying I love you. Meaning he's worried about seeing her again.

He does not want to say I love you.

Okay.... so this means that he does not want to say I love you. Even if it means that he can see El safe again. But this can be for many different reasons. Maybe he's not ready to make the commitment or something. But the next scene on the car is when Mike shows the real reason why he doesn't want to say it.

The next time Mike and Will talk about this, the thing that he has to say to her has been reframed to being 'The Truth.' He's realised, between the previous scene and the car scene, that he will eventually have to explain himself to El because he'll likely see her again. He thinks that if he had explained himself, maybe he would have taken him with her.

Now, 'explaining yourself' does not at all sound like a confession of love. It almost sounds like Mike trying to justify to El why he doesn't say it. AND:

He tells Will in this scene that he 'didn't know what to say' despite El spelling it out for him very clearly. This shows he knows that he can't say what she wants him to say, and he has no idea how to explain why he can't say it in a way that isn't incriminating. Again, he can't tell Will the thing he has to explain away, because it would raise too many questions.

Will says 'to say how you really feel', suggesting that Mike feels the opposite of what El wants. And the fact that Mike nods. He NODS when Will says 'what if they don't like the truth?' is just so clear to me. It AGAIN solidifies that Mike is nervous because he really doesn't want to tell El the truth. He has no idea what to say to make it better without lying.

TLDR; Mike does not want to say I love you to El. The reason? He doesn't love her.