#he needs him but he's so disappointed in him...the sadness of it all

[ill0usainte]

Pussy can be so facetious.

pairings: colonel!caleb x nurse!reader

cw: unprotected sex, rough sex, stomach bulge, cosplay kink, dom!caleb, sub!reader, overstimulation, cockdrunk!reader, crying, power imbalance

"ngh- hah-- t-too much--!" You cried out, hands gripping on the colonel's wrist that is holding your thighs tightly while slamming his gritty cock inside your plush tight pussy.

Oh, how foolish you were, knocking out a nurse just so you could take her uniform and pretend to be a nurse on the fleet to escape from Caleb.

He's been pounding deep inside of you relentlessly for an hour or so. The way your pussy sucks his hardened cock so good inside makes Caleb be in full bliss.

You'd be begging and pleading for him to take a break but your pussy says otherwise:((

The colonel is disappointed of knowing that you tried to escape again but at the same time he can't help but chuckle in amusement seeing you fail again and again.

He's determined to keep you forever by his side.

"hah- it's sad...to know you're planning to escape me again...." He coos, brushing the strands of your hair away from your face as he caress your cheek, you can only moan and whimper in return as he continues drilling his aching cock inside your throbbing pussy.

"but... you.. ngh... just k-kept on, putting fuel to the fire, sweetie... "

Adoring the sight of you being dicked down by the colonel-- seeing you like that aroused Caleb-- you look so vulnerable and submissive towards him. He can't help but abuse the power he has against you, dominating you everytime he gets the chance because he knows you'll always submit your self to him:(

He always uses the "pull it out whole and.... slam!" method-- which makes your eyes roll to the back-- legs trembling as you stick out your tongue. Feeling a euphoric climax rising to your aching pussy.

This man is fucking you like a dog in heat-- acting like he haven't been balls deep fucking you countless times in every place of the fleet headquarters.

And what aroused him the most, is how you look so hot with that nurse's uniform. How the buttons that were once in place were now all gone because he was too impatient he ripped the shirt open with his hands-- leaving you just with your bare chest, filled with his saliva in display. The way the pencil skirt fits you perfectly-- riding up to your plush thighs. He can't help but want to bite and leave marks on the flesh:((

Caleb will always be a thighs man.

"-shit- I s-should dress..you-- hah-- up in... different uniforms n-next time..." He pants heavily, pressing his thumb against your stomach as he can feel his cock forming a bulge against your stomach while pounding inside of your tight entrance.

His angry red tip kissing and greeting your womb as he pumps it in and out-- stretching you out so good. With how big his cock is, it never leaves any space inside your warm tight pussy. You're always full of his gritty cock.

"heh- m-might need another hah--.. pussy appointment soon, Nurse.."

No worries, he's just a man who's into women in uniform.

Fics of Caleb:

Play your gun right!

Mark your territory.

Fuck me like you mad at me, baby!

Got your head in a headlock!

Lasting Mark.

(Wo)men in uniform.

Pink, Pink, Pink!

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

daddy hurt / comfort (nameless, but written with chan in mind)

cw: daddy / princess dynamics, reader being babied, sweet talk, pet names, crying

if this content isn’t for you, pls skip. remember to be kind. ♡

“princess needs a big hug, huh?”

you nodded, looking up at him with watery eyes and tear stained cheeks. it broke his heart.

he repositioned himself on the couch so there was room for you to sit on his lap. he opened his arms wide. “come here baby. come to daddy.”

and with a sniffle you sat on his lap, your side against his front, head in the crook of his neck. he wrapped his arms around you, giving you a big squeeze.

“how’s that baby?” he asked. “feel daddy’s arms around you? hmm?”

you nodded, gripping his shirt in your fist, trying to get closer to him but it was impossible.

“daddy will never let anything happen to his little princess.” he rubbed his hands up and down your arms. “i am always here to protect you.” he brought one hand up to cradle your head, petting your hair gently. “baby, do you want to tell daddy why you’re crying?”

you sniffled and shook your head back and forth.

“no? well that’s okay, baby. you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. i’ll just stay here and hold you and rock you, okay? and then maybe in a little while you can tell me what’s got you so worked up. yeah?”

you did your best to nod, a fresh wave of tears washing over you at his sweet words. you felt so safe in his arms. so loved and cherished. like nothing bad could ever touch you. like all the bad thoughts would just melt away under his touch.

“my sweet girl..” he cooed, kissing the top of your head and continuing to sway both your bodies back and forth. “my brave, sensitive, big hearted girl..”

kiss kiss kiss

you sniffled. your nose completely plugged up and making an awful noise.

“shh baby. don’t cry. i’ve got you, okay?” he reached over to the table next to the couch and grabbed you a tissue. “daddy’s got you.” he held the tissue up to your nose. “big blow.” he said. and you did. letting him help you blow your nose. letting him take care of you. letting all the burden fall away. so there wasn’t anything left but him.

“can i have a kiss, baby?” he asked. “i bet some daddy kisses would chase the sadness away.”

you looked up at him, his eyes were soft and concerned.

“i’ve always said daddy’s kisses have healing powers.” he said. “let’s see..” he leaned in and kissed you softly. a feather light touch of his lips against yours. and then again. and again. and then a kiss to each cheek, the tip of your runny nose, your forehead.

“there we go baby. how’s that?”

you nodded. still feeling nonverbal. and he didn’t push you.

“a little bit better?” you nodded again, your tears had stopped, your heart feeling lighter. “good..” he wiped at your cheeks, swiped his thumb under your nose. “have you eaten anything baby?” he asked. “had any water?”

you shook your head no. looking down at his shirt, knowing he would be disappointed.

“that’s okay baby. i know it’s hard sometimes.” he squeezed you. “why don’t we go get some snacks together? hmm?”

“just a li-little longer..” you said, nuzzling back into his neck, gripping his shirt tight.

“okay princess.” he said, caging you in with his arms again. “just another minute and then we will go. gotta get some food in your little tummy.” he kissed your head again. humming a loving sound against your hair.

you closed your eyes and breathed in his scent, feeling calm, feeling better. he always knew how to make you feel better.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[oceanista08]

[1] Better ✧. ┊    cha haein x fem!reader

Cha Haein wasn't the type to get distracted during training.

Footwork, breathing, precision—every movement was calculated, controlled.

But today, she was off.

"Alright, take a break," you said, stepping back with an easy grin, barely winded from sparring. "I don't wanna be responsible if 'The Dancer' suddenly gets sloppy.

Haein exhaled, lowering her wooden sword. "I’m not sloppy."

You tilted your head, giving her a look. "You hesitated twice."

She had.

Which was ridiculous. She never hesitated.

But how was she supposed to focus when her mind was still stuck on what you had said earlier?

The casual, offhanded way you had mentioned it.

"I've been busy lately. My boyfriend's been asking to meet more, so I don’t have much free time.'

It had taken everything in her to keep her expression neutral, to not let the words hit harder than they should have.

Because why should she care?

You were her friend. Maybe. She got jealous.

And the more you talked about him, the worse it got.

You always spoke with a small smile, but your words never matched.

"He's been stressed, so I don't mind if he forgets things sometimes."

"He's usually not like this, I think he's just tired."

"I mean, he's not ignoring me—he just gets busy."

Excuses. So many excuses.

Haein had seen couples before. She wasn't blind. She knew what love was supposed to look like.

And this wasn't it.

She could see it in the way your shoulders tensed when his name came up. In the way you always gave more than you received.

She had thought about saying something—had wanted to—but what right did she have?

So instead, she forced herself to stay silent.

Forced herself to tighten her grip on her sword and focus on training, even though she hated every second of it.

Because deep down, she already knew.

She wasn't just upset because your boyfriend didn't treat you well.

She was upset because she knew she could treat you better.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Cha Haein had never been much for socializing.

The crowded banquet hall, the clinking of glasses, the stifling chatter—it all made her nervous. She had planned to leave early like she always did until she saw him.

And at that moment, her plans changed.

You were standing near the bar, neatly dressed, your usual confidence overshadowed by the presence of the man beside you.

Him.

Haein's fingers curled around the stem of her untouched wine glass as she watched him drape an arm around your waist, speaking over you as if you were just there to decorate his evening. The way he barely glanced at you when you spoke, how he only touched you when others were watching, how his attention wandered the moment someone more important entered the room—

It made her stomach clench in a way she didn't like.

She knew you deserved better.

And she knew she could do better.

You had been her friend for years - someone who understood her quiet nature, someone who never forced her into conversations she didn't want to have, someone who always knew when she needed space and when she needed someone by her side.

But here you were.

Accepting someone who didn't even see you.

The thought made her act before she could think twice.

Her heels clicked lightly on the marble floor as she approached, her usual quiet confidence making people move away without her having to say a word. She didn't hesitate as she approached you, not looking at him.

Just you.

"Dance with me."

Your head suddenly lifted, eyes widening a little. "Haein?"

She tilted her head slightly, lips curving into the faintest of smiles. "You look sad, I want to cheer you up."

You blink, and for the first time tonight, she sees something flash across your face—hesitation, disappointment, something deeper.

Your so-called boyfriend doesn’t even notice her presence, too busy talking to someone else.

Haein steps closer, her voice lower, softer.

"You don't have to pretend with me."

A breath escapes your lips—something between a giggle and a sigh. "You don't even like dancing."

"I don't want to," she admits. "But I'll do it for you."

That makes you pause.

And then, slowly, you place your hand in hers.

Warm, familiar.

The moment your fingers clasp hers, she swears she feels something happen.

She eases you onto the dance floor, her grip firm but careful, as if she's afraid you might slip. The moment you settle into the rhythm, the warmth of your body close to hers, she knows she's done the right thing.

Because this — holding you in her arms, watching you smile without forcing it, feeling the way you move naturally against her — it feels right.

"Why did you do that?" you ask, your voice smaller now, more vulnerable.

Haein exhales softly, her gaze steady. "Because someone should."

You blink at her, your eyes searching hers. And in that moment, she knows you understand.

Because he always understood her.

She doesn't need to explain.

It goes without saying how much it hurts to see you with someone who doesn't see you the way she does.

Needless to say, she wanted to be the one holding you like this—not just tonight, but forever.

The song slowed down, and so did you, the distance between you becoming impossibly small.

Your fingers tightened around hers.

And then, barely more than a whisper—

"You should have asked me sooner."

Haein held her breath.

And she swore, in that moment, that she would never be late again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

And then your lover notices.

The music continues, but Haein can feel the weight of an angry gaze burning her back.

She ignores it.

Until she doesn’t have to anymore.

"Oh, isn't this cute?"

Your body tenses slightly, but Haein doesn’t let go. Instead, she turns around—just enough to meet his gaze.

He looks uncomfortable. Defensive. Like someone whose pride has been wounded.

Good.

You sigh, backing away slightly. "I don't want to do this here."

But Haein's patience is running out.

"She's busy," Haein says, her tone even but firm.

Your so-call-boyfriend scoffs. "Oh, so you're speaking for them now?" He laughs. "I know. You've always been strangely protective, haven't you?"

Haein didn't react. Not taking the bait. She just tilted her head, her hand still resting lightly on your waist.

"I protect people who deserve it," she said smoothly. "Not people who treat their partners like accessories."

His expression darkened. "You don’t know anything about our relationship."

"I know enough," Haein said, her voice calm—so calm it was almost insulting. "I know they deserve better."

His jaw clenched. "And you think that's you?"

Haein smiled, slow and careful. "I know that's me."

You sighed softly beside her, and she didn’t have to look to know you were trying not to laugh.

He scoffed, but there was something uncomfortable about his posture—like he knew he'd already lost.

He was angry and reached for your hand. "Come with me-"

But then his actions were quickly interrupted by Haein. She glared at him, exuding a dangerous aura. "Don’t touch her."

He pulled his hand back and trembled under Haein's gaze.

Haein tilted her head toward the exit. "I think you've stayed too long."

His eyes glanced between the two of you, but in the end, he just stuck out his tongue and turned away. "You'll regret it soon."

As soon as he left, you sighed, running your hand over your face.

"That's…something."

Haeinn hummed, "Are you sad?"

You looked up at her, a slow smile spreading across your lips.

"No," you said, your voice warm. "It was kinda hot, actually."

Hae-In blinked. Then she smiled.

"Good."

She held out her hand again. "Another dance?"

This time you took it without hesitation, your fingers wrapping around hers as if they had always been there.

New blog yayyyyy (/≧▽≦)/

Solo leveling chars x reader ( except Jinwoo - Jinwoo posts in @leonastarry )

[chleem]

request idea? thinking about how Drew would drop everything for his girl ❤️‍🔥 like if she showed up at his house crying because she needs him (something with her parents or something? maybe they forgot something important to her)

and Drew is with his roommates or friends (who love the reader) but as soon as he sees his girl sad, he has a soft spot for her and for taking care of her 🫶🏼

⋆.˚ Warnings: none, pure fluff (still, read at own caution

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: enjoy! sry i haven't replied for so long, i was spending cny w/my family.

word count: 2.2k

──── 𝜗𝜚 ─────

The sound of the basketball game is practically vibrating through the walls—close to the end, with the score tied and everyone on edge. 

Drew’s lounging on the couch, leaning back, eyes glued to the screen. 

The room is full of his friends, all hyped up, throwing out their commentary and joking around. It’s guys’ night, and it’s a vibe they’re all soaking in.

Then the doorbell rings for the second time tonight, and Drew’s eyes flicker to the door.

"Did we order pizza? Again?" Drew asks. 

“Dunno, man, check,” his friend says, not looking up from the game, clearly too invested. 

Drew sighs, a little annoyed at the interruption, but his feet move automatically toward the door.

When Drew opens the door, he doesn’t see pizza. 

He sees you.

His expression shifts instantly—his confusion giving way to something deeper. 

Drew notices the smudge of mascara under your eyes first—the dark lines trailing down your cheeks. The rest of your makeup isn’t much better: foundation starting to fade where the tears have blurred it, the eyeliner long gone from where it used to frame your eyes.

His heart skips a beat. The noise from the game and his friends’ laughter suddenly feel miles away, as if the room has gone quiet in an instant.

Then, through your teary eyes and blushed cheeks, you give him a smile. It’s weak, almost forced, but you try. You shrug your shoulders, like you're attempting to downplay whatever’s hurting you.

“Hey, Joseph,” you say, your voice cracking just enough that Drew hears it. Your smile fades, and the act you’re trying to put on crumbles just a little.

Drew’s heart sinks. He knows you too well. The moment you said his name like that—broken and vulnerable—he realizes just how much you’re holding back.

Without a word, Drew steps closer.

The easy-going grin he had on earlier is gone. His brows furrowed with concern as he reaches for you, hands cupping your cheeks. 

He holds you gently, but firmly—like he's grounding you, keeping you steady.

His gaze softens, and he watches, helpless for a second, as the first tear escapes and trails down your cheek. His heart aches seeing you like this.

His eyes never leave yours, and there’s an unspoken promise in them—I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

When you speak again, the apology slips out almost before you can stop it. “I’m sorry…” you start, feeling bad for interrupting his night with his friends.

“Don’t. Don’t apologize.” He says, as if he’s trying to erase that sense of guilt before it can settle in. 

He gives you a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, “don’t ever apologize for needing me.”

He takes a moment, watching your eyes carefully, making sure you understand that he means it. There’s no disappointment in his gaze—only warmth, care, and an overwhelming need to protect you from whatever’s hurting.

Your eyes flicker away, sparkling with unshed tears as you struggle to catch your breath, trying to muffle the cries threatening to break free.

“It’s just- it’s just my parents-“

Your words falter as his friends cheer loudly in the background, their excitement rising with each point scored in the game. 

Drew notices immediately—your discomfort, the way you're struggling to open up in this moment—and it hits him: you’re still standing out in the hallway, exposed to everything.

“Let’s, let’s get inside,” he murmurs. He doesn’t need to say more than that—his hands move to your shoulders, guiding you toward his room, tell you everything.

His friends, too absorbed in the game, don’t notice the subtle shift in the air. They’re still yelling at the screen, completely oblivious to the fact that his girlfriend has showed up crying. 

As he leads you down the hall, you finally feel the air change—calmer, quieter. 

The second the door of Drew’s room closes behind you, the outside world fades.

Unknowingly, you’ve sat down at the edge of his bed, the soft mattress dipping under your weight. 

Drew quietly moves around his room, as he finds a box of tissues on his dresser. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, though—watching the way you sit, the way your shoulders shake with each breath, how your chest rises and falls, unevenly.

Once he hands it to you, Drew settles beside you. His arm slides around your shoulders, pulling you closer but not forcing you.

He listens carefully to the soft hiccups that escape from you, tiny gasps caught in the air. 

He just continues to rub gentle circles on your back, his touch light and comforting. 

Finally, Drew speaks, but it is barely above a whisper, “what’s wrong?”

You grab a tissue, dabbing your cheeks where the mascara has ran down. 

When you see the dark spots on the tissue, your chest tightens. The tears come faster now, and you let out a shaky breath between sobs, “now my makeup’s ruined!” 

Drew can’t help but chuckle lightly at your reaction, the sound soft and gentle. His hand, still resting around your shoulders, takes the tissue from your trembling fingers.

With a small, reassuring smile, he dabs at your cheeks, wiping away the smudged makeup with care. 

“Don’t, don’t worry about that,” he says quietly. 

The tenderness in his words feels like a balm to your frayed nerves, and for a moment, it’s the only thing grounding you.

As you look up at him, your breath catching in your throat, you notice how close he is. 

His face is inches from yours, and his eyes hold nothing but softness, nothing but a promise of comfort. His hand lingers at your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I…i had dinner with my parents,” you start. 

“I know,” he murmurs softly, his gaze never leaving yours. He'd seen the date marked on his calendar weeks ago, the reminder of your private dinner with your parents, and he had known it might be a tough night for you.

It was a dinner just for you and them—an attempt to reconnect, to have a moment where things might feel normal again. But Drew knew, from the way you’d talked about it in passing, that it wasn’t going to be easy.

“They still think, I made a huge mistake,” your voice cracks once again, and you swallow hard, as if trying to force the pain down, but it’s no use. It bubbles up too quickly.

Drew knows exactly what you mean. He remembers you telling him about dropping out in the middle of your final year. How it had been a decision made for yourself, even if your parents couldn’t understand it.

Drew watches you quietly for a moment, then speaks softly, “You did what was right for you. If they don’t get it, that’s on them, not you. Who cares what they think?”

He gives you a small, reassuring smile, before adding on, “you should see yourself through my eyes. You’re beautiful, smart, and more than enough as you are. You don't need a...certificate to prove that.”

His words settle over you, and for a moment, you feel your heart soften at the quiet sincerity in his voice. But you quickly look away, feeling a bit shy under his gaze. 

“Yeah, well…” you mutter, “we got into this huge fight, and I just stormed out- and look where I am. Ruining your - your guys’ night.”

“No, no,” Drew immediately interrupts, “you’re not ruining anything.”

Then, unexpectedly, without missing a beat, Drew throws the tissue in his hand toward the trash can in the far corner, and you watch, distracted by the sudden movement. 

You can’t help but let out a small chuckle when he makes a perfect shot, the tissue landing neatly inside with a satisfying swish.

Drew turns toward you, his smile both confused and amused, clearly unsure of what exactly made you laugh but happy to see you smile. “What?” he asks, his voice still holding that easy charm.

You stare at him for a moment, your eyes catching on his lips, the way they curve just slightly in that grin, and for a fleeting second, the urge to kiss him overwhelms you. 

It’s like everything else in the room fades away, and it’s just the two of you in this small, quiet moment.

Your breath catches in your chest, and before you can even think, the space between you seems to vanish.

Without a word, you lean in, your eyes fluttering shut, letting instinct take over. His hand gently cups your cheek, warm against your skin, as he tilts your head just slightly.

And then, you feel it—his lips against yours, and everything feels…right.

The kiss is calming, full of quiet affection—comforting in a way that eases all the tension, like a safe place where nothing else matters.

You could taste your own tears, salty on your lips, but somehow they only make the moment feel more real—more human. There’s something about the way Drew holds you, his lips soft and patient, as if he's absorbing all your hurt without needing to speak.

You pull away just briefly, catching your breath, but before you can even fully regain yourself, Drew leans in again, this time with urgency, as if he needs this kiss more than you.

His lips press against yours, deeper this time, gentle but insistent. His hand moves to your back, pulling you closer as if he’s anchoring himself to you, or to this moment.

You smile against his lips, hands wrapping around his neck. 

You want to push him against his bed, take him right there, show him how appreciative you are of him, but seems like, the rest of the world wants him too.  

The sound of his friends cheering from outside breaks through the moment, reminding you that Drew has guests over, and this isn't just your time with him.

You pull away, resting your forehead against his, closing your eyes for just a moment to catch your breath. 

When you reopen your eyes, you find Drew’s gaze already on you—soft, steady, and full of something unspoken. There’s a quiet intensity in the way he looks at you, like he’s taking in every detail, as if he’s memorizing this moment, just as you are.

“You have- you have people, in the other room,” to your own surprise, you’re stuttering. You pull your head away slightly, finding the fun in tracing the line of his jaw. 

“I wanna stay here,” he murmurs, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place, but you feel it in your chest, a quiet certainty. 

He doesn’t break his stare, and in that moment, it’s like he’s asking you to stay with him too—not just in this room, but in everything he’s feeling, everything you’re both sharing.

“Ask them to leave,” you whisper back, a small smile tugging at your lips, though the words are more playful than serious.

You both know it’s not that simple. 

“Join me,” he says, referring to his guys' night, to his friends in the living room. 

“Well, at least let me... change, and redo my makeup.”

“I don’t know…” he lets his words trail off, his eyes scanning your features with mischief lurking in them, “they might like- like having a panda around.”

You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitch, unable to hide the small smile. You hear Drew’s throaty laugh escape his lips, a sound that makes your heart skip.

“Alright, just… take your time,” he says, his playful tone softening as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering just a moment longer than expected, like he wants to make sure you feel it.

You watch him, your chest warming at the gesture, as he moves across the room to his dresser. 

He pulls it open, rummaging through his clothes, and then, almost casually, he grabs the hoodie you recognize to be 'yours'. It’s his, but with how often you wear it, it’s practically yours now. 

Then, in one smooth motion, he opens the top drawer and takes out your shorts, underwear, and bra. He places them beside you, not even needing to say anything—just a small, thoughtful gesture that tells you he knows exactly what you need, even before you ask for it.

You look up at him, surprised by the simplicity of it, but somehow it feels even more intimate than words could say. It’s the way he just gets you, without needing to make a big deal of it.

And because it felt right, you whisper, “I love you.”

Drew’s gaze softens, the teasing smile melting away into something more sincere. His eyes hold yours as he says, “I love you more,” his voice quiet but filled with warmth. 

There’s no playfulness now—just honesty, raw and real.

“…now get out of here,” you tease, the corners of your lips lifting into a smirk.

He leans forward, his finger lightly tapping your forehead in a playful push, “so eager to get rid of me?”

“Yes,” you whisper back, and he smiles, shaking his head. 

With one last glance, he turns and walks to the door.

And once the door closes behind him, you’re left with a warm feeling in your chest—safe, loved, and entirely at peace.

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

happy cny! angpao for everyone <3

i apologize in advance if this isn't good and has mistakes- i wrote it in a rush! (also, i realized there was a sudden pov switch- tf

other

[sweetcarrotsandroses97]

~ Loud Silence | 1 | JJK

Pairing: Doctor! Jungkook x Assistant! Fem! Reader

Summary: Your life was grey. Just like his thoughts, like his emotions, like his memories. And you ignored it all, the pain, the sadness, the unbearable silence... All because your heart told you to stay when your mind screamed at you to get away from the drowning force of Jungkook's obsession.

Warnings: ANGST, employer x employee, patients in a coma, medical terms, detachment, low self-esteem, diseases, symptoms, death, Jungkook is married, fluff?, yearning, child neglect? (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2.6k words

A/N: Chapter 1 is here, darlings! I am so excited for this story and I hope you will like it as well. I'll do my best to keep updates as fast as I can but please be patient with me.

Let me know your thoughts in the comments, darlings! I'd love to hear from you!

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

“Remember you have your fencing practice after your chinese lessons today. They were all moved an hour as Mr. Min had an impromptu. Then you’ll have your piano lessons at five instead of four sharp.”

Your words were met with a boring sigh and an acknowledged hum. Ji-hoon was busy with today's study material you had given him that morning. He sat at his desk, hunched over the textbook while a YouTube tutorial of the math problem he was solving was paused on the large screen of his computer. 

“Thanks, (y/n)”

His reply was dry, monotonous. Your heart clenched but you kept your straight face. Adjusting your posture, you lowered your tablet with Ji-hoon’s updated schedule and looked around his big room. The bed was made to perfection, the books on the large shelves were cleaned and organised and the curtains that often covered the ceiling-tall windows were open and the view of the gardens could be appreciated if only the boy would turn around and admire nature. 

You turned around, ready to leave Ji-hoon to his studies. The sound of your heels on the white polished floors filled your ears. It was a sound that was too loud, or maybe the room was too quiet. Instead of Ji-hoon’s animated storytelling of his day, he sat in silence contemplating his assignments, instead of the big screen in his room playing some sport as background noise, the smart TV was off. You didn’t remember the last time he had even turned it on. 

“(y/n)?”

You stopped. It had been the first time in days, maybe even weeks or perhaps months, since Ji-hoon had called your name with emotion. With the lace of doubt and vulnerability in his words. 

You turned around and watched as he leaned back on his chair but looked at you with doubtful eyes. His hands fidgeted with the pen more than usual and your heart sank at how nervous he looked. 

You tilted your head to the right, a subtle movement that seemed to bring him out of the lake that drowned his thoughts in doubts. Ji-hoon took a deep breath and you waited until he spoke. You didn’t pressure him. You never did. You already knew how much pressure the boy had, the weight he carried on his shoulders was one no fourteen year old child should carry. 

“Did you ask him? What did my father say?”

You blinked. Staring at Ji-hoon with the same monotonous gaze he already got used to when looking into your eyes. 

“You already have everything you need here. Your father doesn’t believe that you going to school would benefit you in any way.”

Ji-hoon turned back to his desk, his eyes downwards. The grip on his pen loosened and it pained you how soft his voice sounded when he spoke again. 

“Of course he doesn’t.”

His mumbled words pierced your heart. You wished there was something you could do to help him. To ease his loneliness that stood rooted in his heart. But that choice was not yours to be made. And so, you tilted your chin up, your grip tightening on the tablet in your hands. 

“Your father knows what is best for you, Ji-hoon.”

But the boy just scoffed at your words. For he was not sure whether to feel sad or disappointed or angry or frustrated. For he felt it all at once. You didn’t linger. Your steps echoed once more on the polished floor as you left the room that was too big for a teenage boy alone. 

Once in the hallway, you leaned back against the closed door. It pained you to see Ji-hoon so helpless when it came to decisions that concerned his life, his experiences, his memories. But it pained you more, that it had not always been like this. 

There had been a time where he had smiled, where he had laughed. 

The household had been happier. And yet, now all it was left of that happiness was the shadow of laughter in the wind. 

You walked down the large hallway, the lights hanging on the walls illuminated your features, your steps were calculated; monotonous. The house was big but silent. Your heart was lonely yet it still yearned. The sunlight streamed through the tall windows and as you turned left to descend down the large staircase, you paused. 

Looking over your shoulder, you looked at the portrait of Ji-hoon and his father, renowned doctor and scientist, Jeon Jungkook. And yet the boy was the spitting image of his mother. With a sigh, you turned away and continued your journey down the stairs. The ground floor was just as silent as Ji-hoon’s room and with quiet professionalism, you walked to your right, going into Jungkook’s study. 

You didn’t look at Jungkook’s piling paperwork on the desk, you didn’t pay attention to the already filled bin by the chair that was mostly empty. You didn’t dare look at the portrait of her. Jungkook’s wife. It was a painting he had commissioned after they had gotten married. A piece of art that now hung over the dry fireplace.

Seo-yun. 

A name that was once a blessing of the household was now a curse. You didn’t look at her portrait. You didn’t have to. That painting that looked like a mosaic was engraved into your heart due to Jungkook’s melancholy when he gazed upon it. 

Instead, you walked to the very back of the room and into the door Ji-hoon was forbidden from ever entering.

The warmth of the empty house, the soft colours of the walls and the faint smell of books vanished when you crossed that door. The lights were white, blinding in their nature. The smell of chloride and antiseptic reached your senses. Your heels announced your presence as you entered Dr. Jeon’s private lab. 

He was aware of you before you uttered a word. Jungkook sat on one of the stools, his posture rigid as he looked into the microscope once more. 

“Sir, the conference this Friday has been cancelled. Doctor Kim called, his flight was delayed and he will not make it so the board decided to postpone the event.”

Jungkook looked up at you, his gaze met yours. Calculating and monotonous. The lab was in pristine condition. A sea of exams and samples were on the table, all labeled accordingly. And yet the whiteboard that hung over one of the walls was filled with loose handwriting. Notes, thoughts, symptoms, hypothesis… Jungkook’s mind was plastered on that board. An organised chaos. The eye of the storm of his subconscious. And the contrast was big. Between his wild mind and blank stare, it almost felt like falling down a rabbit hole of confusion where nothing was clear and nothing was known. 

“Very well. Is there anything else I need to know?”

You straightened, letting your hands fall to your sides holding the tablet with your right hand. His stare was intense, dark compared to his pale skin. It had been some time since he went outside and allowed the sun to kiss his skin. 

“No, sir. Everything’s on schedule.”

He hummed. It was a deep sound that reverberated through your spine and tingled your nerves. Jungkook went back to look down at the microscope with the same indifference he lived his daily life. His hands were firm when he adjusted the lenses, his jaw was tense while he scribbled away notes and observations on a notebook at his right. 

You wanted to speak, to ask him so many things. But you didn’t know how to start. You never knew if it was wise enough to start speaking with him. He was so volatile, so silently unpredictable. Your perfect, rigid posture sagged a bit as you let out an inaudible breath. The lab was quiet, too quiet. Just like Ji-hoon’s room. 

You hated it. 

You hated that silence that strangely calmed your mind as well. 

Jungkook changed the sample he was observing, his movements mechanical. The latex of his white gloves stretched as he flexed his fingers and he spoke without looking at you. 

“If you have something else to say, (y/n), do it and go. I have work to do.”

You swallowed, remembering all the times he had spoken softly to you, all the times he asked if you could assist him in any of his experiments. All the times you had felt seen by him. Jungkook may be your employer, your boss and perhaps you were just his assistant, his secretary and Ji-hoon’s caretaker. But you missed the times when you had been more; or at least when he had made you feel more than that. 

“Ji-hoon asked again, sir. He… keeps insisting on the idea of going to school.”

The doctor let out a deep sigh, almost in annoyance, in exasperation. It hurt to think that he saw his son like that. 

“He asked me to tell you to reconsider it. He is lonely, sir.”

Jungkook let go of his pen, the sound as it hit the notebook was dry and it almost echoed in the silent laboratory. He leaned back slightly, his eyes bored; nonchalant. But it took you a second, a single heartbeat for you to see the vulnerability behind his icy glare. 

“What should I do, (y/n)? Must I throw him into the world carelessly? If I do not make it, Ji-hoon will be the only remaining part of Seo-yun.”

Your gaze softened for right now, he was not the famous and brilliant doctor, he was a man whose heart had been broken by his own passion, by the hands of science. He was a father scared to lose his one and only son.

You took a step forward, intending on consoling him, advising him. But that single step brought him back from the dark pit that were his thoughts, his doubts. His walls rose, his eyes hardened and he straightened once more. And before he pushed you out completely, you spoke again. With that same professional voice, that delicate tone you always used when addressing him. 

“You are a man who would do anything for his family, I have witnessed it more than once. You are taking into account his safety, I’ll just ask you to consider his happiness as well, that’s all.”

Your eyes flickered to the glass wall. The only wall that separated the lab from the confinement area where Seo-yun lay. She was on oxygen, her slender frame as pale as ever. She lay still, unmoving. Barely breathing. Kept alive by the sleep Jungkook drowned her in. 

You didn’t linger. You couldn’t. So you turned away, not once looking back and missing Jungkook’s soft eyes as he watched your retreating form. You left him thinking, and that was something few had ever achieved.

The smell of cooked ricotta lasagna filled the spacious and minimalist kitchen. The warmth of the oven radiated towards you as you washed the used dishes. It didn’t take long for Ji-hoon to paddle into the kitchen, guided by the delicious smell of homemade food. 

“What are you making, (y/n)?”

He asked out of politeness, already knowing the answer. He sat down on one of the stools on the counter and you felt his eyes on your form while you gave your back to him. Putting away the last of the spoons you had used to make dinner. 

“Ricotta lasagna, I know you like it.”

You dried your hands, missing the way Ji-hoon smiled at your words. Though it was a fleeting reaction, it didn’t not reach his eyes. The timer on your phone went off and you silenced it, grabbing the oven mittens, you took the refractory out, the glass warm against your covered hands. 

You placed it on the counter and took the mittens off. The smell was delicious and this time, you didn’t miss Ji-hoon’s delighted smile at the thought of the homemade dinner he liked so much.

“You should call your father.”

Your voice was soft as you spoke while grabbing a knife and cutting the lasagna into neat portions. The golden cheese stretched slightly as you pulled the first piece free, steam curling into the air. 

Ji-hoon pursed his lips, the smile vanishing from his youthful yet handsome features. His shoulders stiffened as he rested his elbows on the counter. His eyes dulled once more and his demeanour returned to that loneliness that cfept into his heart like poissouns ivy. 

“He won’t come.”

The boy murmured. You looked up, frowning gently at the sad acceptance in his voice. 

“Did you ask him?”

“There’s no need. He’s always busy.”

His tone was light, almost indifferent, but you knew better. You placed a plate in front of him, offering a small smile and hoping the food would content him, if only for a short moment. 

“Eat first. I’ll take him a plate, maybe he’ll come next time.”

Ji-hoon didn’t argue. His silence pained you. He simply looked at you with doubt and hope in his eyes at the same time before he picked his fork and began eating his lasagna. Without another word, you plated another portion and covered it with foil to keep it warm. Grabbing a tray, you added a glass of water and arranged the covered dinner before your feet carried you out of the kitchen. 

You passed the big dinning area, the table too big by the solitude that ruled over the house. The walked past the grand staircase, the yellow light from the big chandelier illuminating your features. 

You entered Jungkook’s office, once more ignoring the staring and gentle portraits of his broke family as you went directly into the lab. The sweet aroma of freshly made food was left behind when you entered the lab for it faded into the crisp sterility of his workspace. 

Jungkook was exactly where you expected—standing by his microscope, brow furrowed in concentration. He barely acknowledged your entrance.

“Sir, dinner.”

You placed the tray on the nearest table, making sure it wouldn’t get in his way. But the sound of the tray hitting the steel counter made him speak in that cold and monotonous voice of his. 

“I’m not hungry.”

You didn’t move, only blinking at him as you studied him with an unreadable gaze that guarded the secrets of your heart. 

“Ji-hoon was waiting for you.”

Silence. 

For a moment, you thought he’d ignore you entirely. Then, with a sigh, he straightened, removing his gloves before finally looking at you. His gaze flickered toward the tray, lingering for only a second before shifting back to you.

“I have work to do.”

You swallowed the words you wanted to say. The ones about how Ji-hoon had barely touched his food after you left, how the boy’s excitement had dimmed the moment he realized his father wouldn’t come. But Jungkook knew. He had to know.

“I’ll leave it here. At least it eat before it gets cold.”

Jungkook said nothing, he turned his gaze away from you. His dark eyes were fixed once more on the chamber where Seo-yun slept. His jaw clenched, his thoughts were a myriad of emotions he hadn’t been able to decipher since that day when his life turned dark and his hopes died like embers. 

But even in the silence, you noticed. You saw his pain, his obssession, his dedication, his melancholy. You saw it all. Even when the house, when his work, when your heart drowned in this loud silence that cursed your existence.  

And so, you left. Leaving Jungkook alone with his thoughts. Alone with his doubts and guilt. He noticed when the warmth of your precedence left his lab, he noticed when he could no longer smell the floral aroma of your perfume. He noticed how your steps faded into the house, away from his and his grey emotions. 

And yet, later that night as you passed by his lab again, you noticed the tray was empty and Jungkook stood in front of the glass that separated him from Seo-yun. Drowning in the loud silence of his thoughts. 

February/01/2025

Current Taglist: @toosweetforyall @jksusawife @ttipa @mageprincess7 @chxiosworld @babyitscoldoutside want to be tagged? Let me know!

[kakitetan]

Sebastian Solace x GN! Reader | Daily Life AU | The Plan

"Oh, you're back . Let me grab your file." Sebastian said, his back was turned.  

The only light in the room was his eyes and his lure . His fingers brushed through the files . He didn't want to say it, but he was thankful you had died . You had the crystal , you were so close . That worried him .. All these monsters, these obstacles, and even Painter . It's all there just to buy him time.  

"I just need to buy us more time, and this.. Filth has gotten way too close." He thought to himself. He clenched his jaw behind his lips, he knew you could barely see his face, but he didn't want to drop his friendly merchant persona unless he had to.

"There it is." His voice echoed, and he passed you your file. He clasped his hands together, you were still disoriented. He let out a sigh, "You don't have to read it, but don't waste my time."

Y/N's hands trembled as they accepted the file from Sebastian, her gaze never leaving his inscrutable features . The faint echo of his voice resonated through the quiet room, sending a shiver down their spine . Disorientation washed over them like a cold wave, making it difficult to focus on anything but the sea creature standing before them.

Sebastian clasped his hands together , he saw you shake your head . He raised his chin in defiance, staring at you in disgust . Humans are rather disgusting creatures, aren't they ? Sebastian's expression hardened, his lips curling into a sneer as he beheld Y/N's shocked face . With a dismissive flick of his gaze, he summed them up with contemptuous disdain.

"No .. I'm just really disappointed in myself..." He heard your voice crack.

He lowered his guard.

Did he hear that right? Or rather was this another manipulation tactic by the many other Urbanshade criminals that come and go?

Many expendables break down, whether it's anger, sadness, or no reaction at all. Just.. Shock. He's learned not to get attached to people; Sebastian didn't want to go through what he's already gone through. Not again ..

"You reaaaally like to waste my time , are you done yet? .. Let's get one thing straight, I don't care about you or your feelings. You're here because of your crimes. Let's see your file.." He turned around, shuffling back into the darkness.

The small light to his lure grew further away before his voice spoke up once more . "That's right, riiiight here."

"You were charged with second-degree murder, and caught red-handed." The file slammed shut with a harsh finality, his venomous retort searing into Y/N with a sneer. "Quite the charge, isn't it? It means nothing down here." He spoke with venom.

You stared at him, before looking back down at the file of what had killed you again.. Before opening your mouth to speak. Sebastian noticed your hesitation, assuming he had finally won.

"I did it because I had to .. I was in danger. Out of everyone down here, I'd think you'd understand." You spoke.

Sebastian felt a vein pop from that sentence.

All the bloodshed, the corpses he had torn apart. Sebastian's mind recoiled at the gruesome memories, each one more visceral than the last. The metallic tang of blood, the crunch of bone beneath his teeth, the slick feel of entrails spilling from ruptured abdomens, all these horrors twisted in his thoughts, swarming feelings of anguish, revulsion, and numbness. Bit by bit. He vividly remembered tearing into the flesh of other Urbanshade soldiers, biting into the tendons of the scientists, feeling every inch of the pain from the constant surgeries, and being cut open. He felt so much in pain, that he wanted to die from every waking moment of the medical procedures. His body was violated and reshaped against his will. Every incision, every probing instrument, every stitch pulled had been a fresh hell. The pain was a constant companion, a gnawing entity that refused to relinquish its grip. Even now, decades later, the echoes of that torment lingered, festering in the darkest recesses of his psyche.

"You SHUT UP!" His hands slammed onto the desk.

"YOU AND I ARE NOTHING ALIKE!"

"And frankly I don't give I fuck, even if I did understand! I was never filthy scum like you , you deserve to be down here. You should've been in MY place, I! WAS! INNOCENT! ... YOU! .. I hate YOU the most." He spat, before closing the file.

He turned his back, placing the file back into its organized spot in the darkness. He heard you mumble something under your breath, while he was putting the file away. His head perked, and his teeth became visible in annoyance. He was ready to tear you apart now, you were getting on his last nerve.

"And what was that?" He growled, this fucking pissed him off.

"I said come with me!" You shouted, and that caught him off guard. "I'll try again , just give me another try! I know I won't remember much, but I'll try until I make it , you'll come with me.." You were sobbing.

Sebastian hid in the shadows, slowly relaxing as he realized, you weren't mad, nor were you a threat. You were just stupid.

'Save those tears ' he wanted to say, but nothing came out.

It was like a lightbulb went off, he knew what to do, and he wanted to play along too . You were expendable after all, not just to Urbanshade, but to him too. His grin slowly formed back. He slithered towards you, gently picking you up, and carrying you back to the beginning. He looked down at you , you were passed out. This was routine. This always happened, every time ..

" Oh Expendable, I don't even bother to know your name.. You're a pain in the ass." He said, before lying you down. Surely someone else would find you in a safer area much as this one, and they'll do it over again, and again .

But this time, it'll be different. Oh yes. He had a plan.

He relaxed, and clasped his hands together, staring at your sleeping body.

This time, he'd help you escape. You're just a tool to him. Nothing more, nothing less. You were his stupid expendable, and his ticket to getting out.

He wiped his hands off his clothes in disgust after touching you, before slithering off into the shadows ... Sebastian had many years to memorize the corridors of the facility, so it was easier to navigate to Painter's room. The only thing is, it was rather boring and time-consuming... Sebastian eventually ended up entering Painter's office space, his .. Jail. More or less.  

"Sebastian! How are you? Did you miss me? Were you thinking of me? Did you find a way out?" Painter smiled , his screen flickered on, showing his animated face smile and nod in excitement.

"I might have just figured our way out." Sebastian clasped his hands together, with a rather devious sneer. "Follow my lead, okay?" Sebastian chuckled darkly.

So just like I said on my AO3, this was in my drafts. I'm still writing, but I've been struggling due to poor mental health. Art is my main hobby, and I didn't really expect my fics to kinda blow up like they did. SO IM LIKE... OKAY. THATS CRAZY. Anyways, enjoy some backstory where you tame Sebastian basically.

[borgialucrezia]

peaky blinders — 6x04 created by steven knight

[myrkulitescourge]

the way that one line from the new epilogue in an astarion romance is going to HAUNT me

just. what a profoundly intense thing to confess to someone.

like, just these six months of newfound happiness with you exerts a force on his heart equal and in direct opposition to two centuries of endless torment, the gnawing hunger and exploitation. this flashbulb-bright fraction of his long life holds the same gravity to him as years upon years of darkness and suffering.

in all likelihood, he hasn’t even known his lover for as long as his worst memory lasted, that year sealed away to go mad from starvation and sensory deprivation, yet he still tells them this brief time has been so fundamentally and powerfully important that the weight of even that unimaginable hell is vanishingly small compared to this present he has now and the future ahead of them both.

how am i supposed to act normal about this.

[yeonjune]

Yeonjun about the strain he felt while preparing for his debut solo project ✙ "GGUM" MAKING FILM

[grimstrawberry]

If I don't make light of everything, I'm gonna explode.

[scammydoesstuff]

Been a minute since I've been able to draw or even post anything. And that's cuz I've been busy af with a job that's been slowly killing me for the last 8 months. But it's all good; I'm actually leaving that shithole at the end of the week. Yay! Maybe that means I can open up commissions again since I'll actually have time for them? Who's to say...

Anyway! Had a rough weekend at Fan Expo Chicago last week, and I've kinda had this in mind to draw ever since my disappointing interaction with Neil Newbon. He was very nice, but it felt pretty clear that he only really cared about Astarion. And, like, to a degree I get it? Astarion seems like a cool character that means a lot to a lot of people, but to act like no one cares anymore about Resident Evil Village cuz it's an "older game" (his words, not mine), kinda killed my mood for the weekend. Not to mention coming back with COVID. That was also a bummer...

*I* still love Heisenberg, at least. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. ❤️‍🩹

[javierduffy]

ohh javieran … javieran post kieran’s death .., javier is a poor lonesome cowboy in america a long way from home with no more sweetheart to sit and talk with him ooohhh can anyone hear me ….

[rainingincale]

.

[anxiously-sidequesting]

So I don't know if it was ever revealed how Duncan felt when we killed Malistaire all three times but I'm wondering if maybe some part of him could hate us for that too. Like you hear that and you go "but why. Malistaire was terrible and even Duncan knew that(?). Why would he hate you for getting rid of him."

But like I think it's so....... interesting in a very, very, very sad way how Duncan so easily latches onto anyone who directly feeds into his delusions of grandeur. And that's no fault of his own that he was manipulated by the nasty Schism but when you think about how desperately clung to the idea that Malistaire, easily one of the greatest necromancers any of us had ever heard of (at that time), somehow actually recognized Duncan's talents (even when canon supports that Duncan wasn't all that talented, at least no more than the next necromancer) and then praised him for it so often that Duncan believed that he would be the next Death Professor is. I mean ☹️

So like with that mindset I unfortunately feel like it would be quite easy to twist even Malistaire's death as something that's horrible and awful and all our fault. ESPECIALLY if the Schism was feeding into Duncan's already broken mind and shattered ego and was constantly telling him that everything bad that ever happened to him ever in his life was Our Fault. That's like a realistic conclusion that someone like Duncan could come to

And like, at this point in time, are Malistaire's crimes even a factor in how he thinks????? Was Duncan ever able to separate Malistaire's talent and skills and prowess from the terrible and awful things he did? If Duncan wasn't able to consciously tell that distinction in the first place I can't imagine it would be any better during the years he was being manipulated and isolated and lied to

Like in Duncan's mind it probably isn't, "maybe I shouldn't idolize a national criminal, or idolize anyone at all for that matter, and aspire to be like someone so harmful when I can recognize my own talent and build from there" it's probably more like, "you (the wizard) permanently got rid of a brilliant mind, an innocent person who just made a few mistakes, and someone who believed in me no matter what just so that you could be the better than me and loved by everyone else" and that's! very sad actually!

[yelow-heart]

I miss JaidenAnimations, tails. I miss her a lot..

[angy-grrr]

okay I’m annoying yk that and I know that.

I love to see what non bkdk shippers think will happen with the manga, bc this way I can learn and see things outside of my special interest for the chapters. And I was reading some interpretations of Ochako being weird in 425.

Some people are right here expecting izuku to go and support her. Some people saw him being this sad, yet only could think about him worrying about Ochako’s feelings over her fight, not Izuku’s fight. they think this will lead to a beautiful confession, in which she cries how she couldn’t save himiko, that izuku noticed, and that he’ll call her his hero and they’ll kiss. And I can’t help but feel like this is bc he is the boy. Because he is the boy in that ship, he is the one that supports, not gets supported. When I was reading those little scenarios, I thought they would explain deku would cry with her about his own fight and bond over it, or something like that. But no… they believe deku’s strange reactions come from being worried over Ochako only. and it’s so sad, to see how gender expectations are being pushed like that in something as simple as a “what I want to happen in the manga” scenario. It’s sad how people think this is how it should work, when actually that would make me even sadder -as I said, for the most part I didn’t care about that ship, I accepted it as inevitable, but this isn’t fair. Romance irl is not perfect, but in a story for this to be a resolution when the character who hasn’t talked about his feeling keeps not talking about them and just supports her before confessing…

Even hetero relationships should have some balance, right?

EDIT:

someone brought up bkdk lmao. They explained how the confession from ochako could get answered: happy ending is izuku loving her back, bad ending is him saying he likes katsuki, and medium ending him liking mei. I can’t even lmao.

another person argued deli just has shown a brotherly bond with him (weird) and that he only thought of him at that dinner with the Im too blessed, and the last time he followed him was in season 1. people need to learn how to read, and connect the dots, literally. No matter how you see their relationship in canon as platonic or romantic (or queer platonic), it’s clear their bond is strong and that Izuku depends on katsuki as much as katsuki depends on izuku on emotional levels -izuku losing control over and over and over again with him, AFO explaining he is the closest to midoriya, katsuki going towards him no matter how injured he is, looking for each other and the time stops, etc.

this is just canon. There’s no arguing about it. Idk why intimate bonds between two male characters means they are like brothers. Is it bc if they are not related, there’s no way to not see it as gay?/gen but also /s