#idk i just hate myself and my actions a little

[jupiter---daydreams]

I will scream,

And bite,

And claw,

And still, I wonder

Why I am

Alone.

[jemmo]

i can’t tell you how much i usually hate these ignoring, distancing plots in shows and how much i absolutely adore everything about these 2 episodes of the eighth sense. like im not having a good time, and it’s fantastic.

bc the thing is, in all of this, i can’t see the right way to go, i can’t find the person to blame, i can’t find the way to make it better. I can’t single out a single moment or a thing someone did and say “this is why everything went wrong”. it’s just this coming together and rise and swell of things happening and people feeling things that has us ending up here and it feels beautifully and horribly organic bc we can’t find that point where it all went wrong. was it on that rooftop? was it at the beach? was it when they first met? was it when his brother died? was it when he was born into this family? there is no single point. it’s all of them and it’s none of them. there is truly nothing and no one to blame. and there are bad characters in the show, people you can hate, eunji and taehyung, but neither of them are to blame for any of the bad stuff that happens in the show. you’re not waiting for them to be taken down bc that doesn’t solve anything. instead, it’s just two people hurting, and not knowing how to make it better.

bc you take jaewon, and after what he says at the end of ep 8, you want to hate him, you want to be so angry at him for what he says, for how he acts, how dismissive and hurtful he is, and yet you’ve been made to understand 100% why, and not just in a “i get it but that wasn’t the right thing to do” way, in a “that was horrible and yet i know he doesn’t see any other way to handle this” way. like you don’t see this as a misstep, or a step to far, bc you know for him, in his state of mind, it is completely justified, it’s necessary. bc it not only punishes the person he blames for all of this, himself, but he sees it as a way to protect jihyun. and not even in a cliche “bad things happen when people around me, the people I love always get hurt” kinda way, but more so in that he sees that he is a scared, messy, struggling person that doesn’t know how to handle himself, and doesn’t want to inflict that on anyone, let alone the person he cares about. so what’s worse, a quick, swift blow that hurts but cuts everything off cleanly, or this prolonged relationship where he inevitably continues to weigh jihyun down with the weight of his trauma, and take it out on him. what’s the point of having a place of refuge when you ruin it more and more every time you depend on it, until it eventually can’t offer you comfort. it’s a lesser of two evils, jaewon’s choice is obvious to him.

but then you take jihyun. and we talk about masks and fronts but we never once question whether jihyun wears a mask bc he appears so sweet and innocent and naive, what can this boy possibly be putting up a front for. but i see it, this almost fake it till you make it confidence front that yes is becoming more natural. but my god just think about what he’s gone through for a second. think about it. left home for the first time in his life, moved to an unfamiliar and intimidating city with only one other person he knows, started a new job, started university, tried to build relationships, met a man that intrigues him, and perused him only to be kissed and then ignored, then maybe establish something tentative, only to then see him spiral, go on a trip where he shared his trauma, you have an intimate night together only to almost die, and then be not only ignored, but plain and simple rejected and pushed away. like… you can say all you want about jihyun growing as a person and having more courage, but no amount of growth for however many months this has been going on for can prepare you for that. for the mixed messages on steroids. for the back and forth, not knowing. to give yourself to someone like that and go through something traumatic and then be abandoned by that person. we get it, bc we see all of jaewon’s story. but apart from what jaewon shared at the beach, jihyun doesn’t know any more than that. he doesn’t know about therapy, about how his father acts towards him, about the extent of his trauma and how it manifests and affects his mental health, and how he is struggling every single day. and you can’t expect him to know the depths of that no matter how empathetic and connected he is, how much he cares about jaewon, he can’t be superhuman. and so you get why he pushes and fights for jaewon. like… he is in love. it’s clear. he’s fallen in love with him. he is this wide-eyed, open kid that fell in love with a senior. and jaewon has just messed with his head, he’s never been clear, and you can’t expect jihyun to just get past that bc he knows something is up with jaewon. he can’t know the full story, but even if he did, that can’t be a reason or a justification to be treated the way jaewon treats him. bc we’re all about jaewon putting himself first and doing what he wants and respecting himself like that, but jihyun deserves that too. and it’s such a fine line to tread when you know someone is going through something, bc again you understand why, but you’re still the one being treated that way. like we talk about jaewon’s trauma, but here jihyun was part of it, he went through that traumatic experience. he’s the one that nearly lost his life. and yes, he appears to handle it well, and no matter to what extent that’s true or not, you can’t not look at jaewon struggling and understand it and then not look at jihyun with that same understanding. it’s not about comparing trauma and pain and deciding who is suffering more, it’s seeing that there are two people in this, and they’ve both been affected, so we should give them the same level of understanding.

and that’s something jaewon has to see. that his self-preservation is selfish. that his destructive behavior doesn’t just affect jihyun, instead it feels pointed and directed, bc every way jaewon hurts himself hurts jihyun. and it comes bc jihyun was so much of what was good about jaewon’s life for a second, so attacking that is his only form of self-sabotage. he can’t mess up his relationship with his friends or parents bc they were broken in the first place, and he can’t sabotage his future bc it’s already been ruined the moment he didn’t pursue his photography major. him nearly getting kicked out of school affected him so little not just bc he wanted that punishment, but bc even that punishment meant so little to him. all these things are established and they already contribute to his suffering. removing jihyun from his life is the only active thing he can do to make himself feel worse, and he can veil it in an act of protection, and even feel like he’s doing the right thing, but that deceives them both into believing this is done from a good place, when no good can actually come of it. in trying to protect jihyun, you hurt him more. in trying to hurt yourself, you hurt him too. and when someone is in a headspace like jaewon is, you look for that thing that’ll break through. bc he is so distant, he’s trying to remove himself from reality, and jihyun needs to act as this person that can anchor him to it. when you’re trying to isolate and separate yourself, sometimes seeing that you still affect things, that there’s a persons that exists that is affected and hurt by your actions, and no matter how you try to cut yourself off, you cannot stop that, separating yourself still hurts them, maybe that’s a thing that can get through. but that’s something that depends on jaewon. ultimately, he’s the only one that can get himself out of this place, and that’s what makes it so hard, that no matter how much jihyun cares and how much he fights for him, nothing can come of that effort is jaewon doesn’t meet him there. and it’d be so easy for jihyun to give in, to take the hurt, but over the course of this show we’ve seen the strength jihyun has developed, which has only seemed to increase more so after the accident, call it a renewed vigor for life or something. he has the strength that jaewon doesn’t, to not let his pain consume him. and in a beautiful full-circle moment, it’s because of jaewon, bc when they first spoke he sparked in jihyun a want to be stronger, to be more than the country mouse, and he’s done it. and it’s that courage that means he can fight for jaewon, even in the face of rejection. he trusts himself and that he knows jaewon, the real jaewon, to see past words that are intended to hurt them both, and go after the person that’s still inside jaewon somewhere. no, he can’t do it for him, and no them being together is not some magical cure for jaewon, but it’s what can put him on a path of caring for himself again, and sometimes that has to start with caring about someone else (and suddenly I’m reminded of my beautiful man 2 and how kiyoi tries to break hira out of his worthless mindset by making him care about him, and how ultimately that can’t be enough, and that hira has to take those first steps of seeing his self worth by himself). what jihyun can do by fighting is again act as that tether to reality and try to be this representation of the good jaewon can be and do. bc look at jihyun, look at how confident and strong he has become, and look at how he got there, bc you saw that country mouse and gave him the time of day and helped him grow and gave him new experiences. you jaewon, you. and that shift in mindset, from jihyun representing hurt and the accident and the trauma of his brother and everything he can’t do, to being that light and refuge and everything he can do is again something that might breaks through. and the fact it has such narrative strength and satisfaction makes me hopeful that that’s what we might actually get.

[buckleydiazmp4]

wow i just saw. a Take

[dordey]

girl i am by no means a tswift stan but like........when you spend your free time compiling a post about her Years worth of having bangs or wearing clothes back to front, just to complain about it??? sounds kind of like you Are

[damagedslightly]

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

[k0yaz]

shackled.

Pairings: arlecchino x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, arranged marriage, arle referred to as your husband, use of her real name, idk if this is angst so I’ll tag it as angst and fluff, wlw, I actually fucking hate arranged marriages irl but it’s interesting to write about, fun when it’s the character you like and not a 10 year old girl getting married to an ugly ass 60 year old man who gets no bitches, uhm anyway not proofread.

A/N: nobody gonna request arrange marriage? I’ll do it myself with my husband/husbwife arlecchino 🕯️

Uneven beats of your heart pulsed in your eardrums continuously as you stared out the open window, a cool breeze caressing your downcast face gently. Your pupils flickered down to your extended left hand, dilating smaller out of disdain upon catching sight of the cold silver ring encircling your ring finger.

You dreaded it. This arranged marriage parted an endless uncomfortable pit in your stomach, which you had felt would remain as long as you were trapped in a bind you didn’t want. Gazing down at ring once more, you couldn’t help but find it difficult to swallow the choked feeling in your throat whenever you laid eyes upon the ruby, nausea enveloping every possible sense you had in the moment. Rather than a promise ring that bound you to someone you loved, the one on your finger felt like a tiny silver collar clamped around your flesh. An irking feeling that forced you to love a stranger.

Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate Arlecchino. The woman had actively attempted to respect your personal space, being able to tell how much you loathed the inescapable grasp of your arranged marriage. You could tell that she opposed even the thought of this, especially from the way her eyes would stare down at her own ring with an empty and unfeeling expression.

Sighing deeply, you reached an arm up to grasp the satin curtains, before tugging your arms inward in a single dynamic motion. As you turned your back to walk away from the now closed up windows, you felt a gust of light air brush against your nape, causing you to spin around and lower your eyes from slight annoyance. Right. You forgot to shut the windows first. You just went over to shut the windows, still harboring a hint of irritation. Ever since that marriage, you always tended to feel unwilling to do anything anymore. Frequently always irritated by the smallest of actions as you’d always think to yourself—what’s the point?

Upon closing up the windows completely, you fell back onto the intricately decorated sofa set situated in the corner of your shared bedroom, your mind still a cluttered mess from all your thoughts being scrambled rather than neatly arranged in an array. You began to ponder once more. How things could’ve been different. Ran away, or disobeyed your parents to a full extent.

There wasn’t anything you could do. You didn’t see a point in even trying to keep a happy front anymore. All of your aspirations that you had, every little dream, was now out of your reach as you were shackled into this marriage. The warm air of the heater hit your skin as you rested your cheek into your palm. A small smile made its way onto your lips as you mused at the possible scenarios that could’ve happened if you were free. Perhaps if you were wallowing in your delusion, you could smile atleast once.

“I’m home.”

You blinked from sudden surprise, jolting as the bedroom door creaked open—albeit a bit roughly. Arlecchino’s emotionless voice rang in your ears, had she called out upon entering before? She often enters the living room first, and doesn’t enter the bedroom until nightfall. Then again, you tend to reside in the living room to await your husband’s return, so maybe she simply wondered where you were.

Stray specks of blood decorated her cheek, scattering small splatters ranging in a variety of spots across her face. Right. She was the fourth harbinger after all. You folded your arms as Arlecchino towered over you, still standing upright while her x-marked eyes pierced into you. Shifting uncomfortably, you decided to clear your throat, gesturing towards your own cheek in an attempt to break the thick fog of tension between you two from the lack of words.

“You got some-“

“I’m aware.” Arlecchino replied coldly, making you bite back a scoff at the harbinger’s dismissive response. Well, excuse you for trying to make this shitty marriage more bearable.

Still, it didn’t seem intentionally rude although it did come off that way. You only looked away from her, eyes fixating on a random painting hung over the flower pot on one of the shelves. Hunching your shoulders, you bit down on your quivering lip subtly so that Arlecchino wouldn’t notice. Although you were the one that distanced yourself from her. Although you were the one who only focused on despising this marriage, rather than even trying to get closer to Arlecchino in the slightest for atleast a small hint of peace. It still hurt seeing your husband brush you off like this.

Her seemingly exhausted expression remained glued to her face as she dragged the folded white washcloth along her cheek, eyes staring at the ground aimlessly as she continued to clean her stained face. The weight of all of this had clearly taken a toll on her as well, yet she had to keep a sturdy front for the sake of her profession as a Fatui harbinger. Yet her actions regarding you had always been courteous and respectful. Consistently respecting your boundaries and trying her best to avoid making you feel uncomfortable must have taken a toll on her, especially knowing full well that your resentment for this marriage could have set you off at any given moment.

A sudden wave of sympathy flooded you upon seeing Arlecchino’s tired eyes, dark linings shaded below her eyes as well. Just maybe, you could try to repay her for having your comfort in mind throughout the course of this resented relationship. This relationship wasn’t her fault, and you knew that. She hated this just as much as you did.

Deciding to swallow your pride, you rose to your feet, standing before her as you awkwardly shifted for a couple moments while remaining standing there. Arlecchino paused her movements, raising an eyebrow at your sudden motion of getting up off the couch. She simply stared at you with a puzzled gaze, trying to figure out your sudden want to interact with her.

Hesitantly, you reached out a shaky hand, lining it up with her cheek and gesturing her to lean in. Arlecchino on the other hand, wasn’t expecting you to switch up suddenly like this, only keeping her skeptical gaze locked onto your own eyes. It felt like a trap to lean in to someone who was so hesitant to even look at her. No matter how badly she wanted to lean into the soft skin of your palm, her hesitance seemed to uphold her rationality despite her exhaustion.

“Arle…it’s okay, you can lean in…”

She needn’t be told twice as you felt her hand grab ahold of your wrist to keep it in place, her head nearly collapsing against your hand. Deep breaths echoed within the vicinity, her breaths cancelling every other noise around you two as Arlecchino slowly composed herself from your touch. She pulled back after a couple moments, her cold front faltering for a moment with a flash of tenderness, before immediately snapping back to her calm demeanor.

However, you didn’t stop there. You don’t know what flipped that switch in you, but you just felt the urge to grow closer to Arlecchino. Perhaps it was the realization that you weren’t alone in the hellhole of a marriage, and that you two may be suffering together. Knowing she hated this as much as you was comforting, it remedied your internal turmoil slightly, and made you detest the idea of anyone else going through what you were. Or maybe, it was the fact that Arlecchino didn’t push anything in this marriage, and respected you, preventing your mental state from growing worse. It could even be both.

Regardless, you wanted to atleast provide a sort of ease to her. Cupping her cheek once more, you pulled the washcloth from her hand, rubbing it against her cheek in circular motions as stains of blood began to soak up onto the cloth and coloring it red. Arlecchino didn’t seem to protest your attempt at soothing her, face pressing further into your shaky palm as it seemed to be working. The quiet buzz of the heater reverberating through the silence, and the general tidy atmosphere of the neatly arranged bed made everything feel so right. As if this marriage wasn’t so awful after all.

Arlecchino exhaled a swift sigh as you finished washing up her face, remaining silent. The two of you awkwardly awaited for the other to speak up, the crickets outside chirping louder than the two of you by this point. You finally decided to say something, face tinged a light pink from moderate embarrassment

“You didn’t want this either did you?��

Arlecchino shook her head in affirmation, her eyes still avoiding yours—as if she was afraid that your vulnerability would shift over to her, and shatter her calm self at this moment.

“I’m well aware of this situation. Your parents are already closely associated with the Fatui, and want wanted you to marry a harbinger in order to elevate their own status for the sake of the family.” She replied. A sour taste seeped onto your tongue at the mention of the reason why you were forced into this in the first place, unpleasant memories beginning to race through your mind for a few moments.

“Why did you accept the offer then? You could’ve easily declined if you didn’t want to be in this marriage either. There’s multiple other harbingers my parents would’ve auctioned me off to.” You said bitterly, strangely hating the idea of getting married to anyone who wasn’t Arlecchino at this point. Arlecchino merely shrugged in response, raising her shoulders to remove the white fur coat cloaking her and draping it neatly over the coat hanger drilled into the wall.

“I’m not sure.” She paused, taking some time to think over another answer to compensate for her vague response. “I believe I just felt it was necessary in that moment.”

You sighed back collapsing onto the mattress. Suddenly, you felt an arm circle your waist, pulling you closer as you felt Arlecchino push her torso flush against your back. Your face burned from the sudden intimate action, the warmth of her body only serving to make you lean into her further as her sharp nails raked along your stomach lightly. Arlecchino whispered out against you, visibly less uptight than when she came in. She was a bit more relaxed and clingy with you simply with a mere touch against her cheek, it was sweet honestly.

“I still care about you, (Name).” She muttered against your neck, voice muffled as she was evidently quite tired. Pale rays of the moonlight illuminated Arlecchino’s now eased expression, watching her eyes lowered shut as her exhaustion began to catch up with her. Surprisingly, you found yourself relishing in the comfort of her arms as you flipped onto your side facing her to examine her rested features.

“…I’m starting to care about you too, Peruere.”

Your hand drew down along her arm, all the way from the skin of her shoulder down to the black faded enveloping her arms from her curse. Maybe, just maybe, this could work. You found solace in the fact that you could make the best out of this marriage with a woman who kept you in mind and tried her best to care about your interests.

Maybe, you could warm up to her.

A/N: im screaming idk if this turned out good guys pls asaaawaabshshs but yayyyyy arlecchino MY CONTENT WARNINGS WERE ASS ON THIS ONE WHY ARE THEY SO BORING AND SAD ‼️

[wcnderlnds]

stupid for you | peter maximoff

SUMMARY: you and peter fall out and he makes it up to you in his own peter way WORD COUNT: 928 WARNINGS: some swearing. A/N: idk what this is but writing peter is my fave so he gets all my dumb ideas ❤️ p.s. if the format sucks it’s bc im mobile.

It wasn’t like Peter had meant to upset you. Sometimes his mouth didn’t have a filter and he said things before even thinking about it so when he called you ‘annoying and needy’, he really didn’t mean it. He wasn’t that guy. He wasn’t the type of person to ever want to upset you or anyone for that matter. So when he’d seen you walk away hurt and upset, that had sent him right into action. He just had to make it up to you — make you see how important you really were to him. It gnawed at him inside that he’d been the one to make you feel that way. Never before had he ever felt so bad. So guilty.

He’d spent the whole day trying to think of what he could do to apologise then suddenly the idea hit him. Maybe it was a little stupid, maybe you’d completely hate it but he thought it’d be cool. Different. It’d be something him.

Meanwhile, you’d spent the day moping around the X-Mansion. The training session you’d had earlier had helped distract your mind but as soon as it was over, your thoughts drifted back to Peter. The fight the two of you had had been so stupid. All you’d done is made some comment about Peter needing to slow down for a minute and listen to you and it had spiralled from there. It wasn’t often the two of you argued. In fact, you never really had. In the whole six months you’d been dating things had been going smoothly. Things had been so easy going, so fun — it wasn’t really a surprise that something was bound to happen to ruin that. When things were going good there was always something that had to come along and mess it all up.

With a sigh, you started to head upstairs to your room when suddenly a blur of silver and blue rushed past you. Before you could even blink Peter was stood right in front of you, his hands hidden behind his back. Your arms wrapped around yourself as you looked at him. “Hi.”

Your nerves were mirrored in his face as he spoke. “Hey. Uh…”

The silence fell between you. It was awkward — something that didnt happen often when it came to you and Peter. Just as you were about to open your mouth to say something he began talking.

“Okay, just let me talk for a minute before I chicken out. I’m not good at this shit. I’m not the best at filtering the stuff that comes out of my mouth. That’s why I’m always getting myself in trouble. You know that but the last thing I ever want to do is hurt you. You gotta believe me on that one. If I could, I’d punch myself in the face. I mean, I could but… I can’t break the goods, y’know?” He laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension.

“It’s my fau-“

“Gonna have to stop you there, babe,” he said as he pulled one of his hands from behind his back and held it up to signal you to stop. “Can’t have you taking the fall on this one. It’s all me. A Maximoff fuck up special. That little switch people have in their brain where they tell themselves to shut up before they say something dumb? Yeah, turns out mine is broken. Probably wasn’t born with one actually. I’m not letting you feel bad for this. It’s all on me, okay? I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “It’s okay. You really don’t have to apo-“

“I do, I really do, though. Felt bad the second I said what I said. You’re not annoying and I love when you’re clingy. I love you wanting to be around me as much as I want to be around you. You caught me on one of those rare days where I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Maybe Scott even pissed in my cereal or something, who knows. Point is that I messed up.”

“Are you gonna stop cutting me off?” You asked, an amused look on your face as you listened to your boyfriends rambling.

“Oh shit, sorry. My bad. The floor is yours.”

“What I was trying to say was that you don’t need to apologise because I forgive you anyway. We’re gonna mess up sometimes and I know you didn’t mean it. It was just hearing it come from you that upset me, I guess. Anyone else I could take it but you? Your opinions and thoughts about me matter the most. Can we just forget about it and move on?”

“Sure, yeah… but first…” he finally pulled his hand from behind his back to produce a Lego bouquet of flowers. “These are for you and lemme tell you, it was hell trying to put this together.”

“…you got me Lego flowers?”

“Duh. This way they last forever and you won’t have to worry about watering them and you can always remember the time your boyfriend was a dumbass.”

You laughed, taking them from him. “How long did it take you to put it together?”

“Might have cheated and used the ol’ mutation but I kept messing up. Some of the pieces wouldn’t fit where I wanted them to and I almost got mad and thr-“

“There’s instructions, you know.”

“Are you gonna stop cutting me off?” He grinned, hands on his hips as he echoed your words from earlier.

”Smartass.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

[sen-ya]

Life After Info Post

[Click here to access the Life After Digital Comic Book]

Summary: Two years ago, a viral outbreak rose the dead. Considering how his life had gone up to this point, surgeon Trafalgar Law figured this might as well happen too. When a supply run into the nearby city gets intercepted by a seemingly reckless and impulsive former patient, the dependable routine Law had settled into in this new life shatters. He finds himself exposed — his body out in the infected landscape, his conscious clawing to define what he believes is right, his heart begrudgingly deciding to find a new home on his sleeve. Maybe there’s more than a virus roaming the new world that can bring a dead man back to life.

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence, zombies/body horror (but lbr I am not good at making scary things look scary)

Relationships: Luffy x Law

Update Schedule: New page every Monday/Wednesday/Friday

Page Count: [37 posted | 55 drawn]

Latest Update: [7/21/24] WOWEE did I get myself carried away this morning. I just spent 5 hours organizing my comics and creating the digital comic book pages. I could have spent that time drawing or idk not doing what I do for my job, but I cannot be stopped. Anyway I blocked out 30 pages of this comic last week and they include the most intense action sequence I've ever done in my gotdang life. Wish me luck because I am nervous about tying down all my drawings lmao.

OLD UPDATES:

[6/29/24] HULLO! I'm doing so bad at keeping my masterposts updated lately I am sorry. All pages of life after are tagged life after if you're ever looking between masterpost updates! Also exciting update, I finally have figured out all the different plot points i'm gonna be hitting (yay!). I got hung up on something for awhile that made me not wanna work on this project, but I'm back at it. I think we'll end up with 6-7 parts! I have probably another 80-100 pages to draw lol. Also i got the app Magic Poser and it's AWESOME and I immediately used it to block out sets cuz MAN I hate backgrounds.

[6/10/24] HELLO. I'm sorry I've been shit at updating my masterposts lately. It's easiest to do from my computer, which I rarely use, and life has been happening. I also can't believe I bungled the queue and posted pg19 before pg18 i am very sorry 🤦 Eventually I'll have to turn this into an airtable base I'm sure, but until that day comes where I have like 100 pages of this comic we're stickin to the regular post lmao

[5/26/23] I got real caught up in doing summer of lawlu comics this week and this is the first week since the first week of April I haven't drawn new Life After pages and it feels weird 🙊

[5/19/24] More Luffy backstory comin' this week! :^)

[5/12/24] Updating now so get myself on schedule to update on Sundays like I had been with my other comic master post!

[5/8/24] Thank you to everyone who's liked/reblogged/comment on the first few pages!! It means the world to me that anyone's reading my silly little comics.

[4/28/24] HULLO. It’s happeninnng. I’ve spent the last few weeks working on this comic, and I gotta make this post so I can start queuing pages & link this in them! This is the most like….legit? Comic endeavor I’ve undertaken perhaps….ever. I’m very nervous about committing to how long it will need to be lol. This story is dear to my heart — zombie content is kind of my very favorite. I’ve always found it to be a great backdrop for exploring themes like grief, coping with change, community, and learning to live again. It’ll be a long haul but I hope you’ll ride it out with me!! Tomorrow I’ll be posting the first two pages. After that a page will post every Monday/Wednesday/Friday. As of this post I’ve completed over 20 pages so that I have a good lead on what’s posting and continuing to write, so I’m hopeful that’s a cadence I’ll be able to maintain. I’ll update this post weekly to include the most recent pages the way I do with my main comics master post. All pages will be tagged 'Life After' and I'll tag any pages with zombies in them with 'zombie' for blacklisting etc.

[sailoryooons]

Okay hear me out, but maybe a little bit of enemies to lovers, little bit of smutty goodness between witch hunter!yoongi and witch!reader?? Idk why this popped in my head but I’m kind of desperate to see a little something now lol.

Also, I love you ❤️

❀ Pairing: Witch hunter!Yoongi x f. witch!reader

❀ Summary: For years, you and Yoongi have played cat and mouse. It’s his duty to rid the world of witches, but he always finds a new excuse to let you slip through his fingers. When you find yourself at his mercy, you wonder if the great witch hunter will finally end your game of chase, or if there’s something that will stay his hand. 

❀ Word Count: 4188 

❀ Genre: Urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, a hint of angst, smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: On screen character death (not permanent though), depictions of blood and intense action sequences, scary demon thing, depiction of weapons, hints at violence between two groups of people, mild world building, a bit of angst, explicit language, explicit sexual content featuring light nipple play, unprotected vaginal sex, emotional sex, a lot of spit, UNEDITED. 

❀ Published: August 3, 2023

❀ A/N: I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to control myself with some of these ideas because god dammit Sarah, I want to turn this into more than ~4k of a work. Like this idea inspired me so much, you have no idea how insane I wanted to go on this but I had to CONTROL MYSELF because I promised that this year I would keep it tame. I love you so much and I’m so sorry that this is like 90% plot and 10% smut but I kept inching toward 5k and I was like I HAVE GOT TO STOP MYSELF JESUS CHRIST and dkfgjdiogjfoigjg I am telling you right now, I want to come back and revisit this fic and makie it like a four chapter thing or something because GOD I LOVED THIS IDEA AND YOU KNEW JUST WHAT TO REQUEST. Also this is unedited!!!!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust | Song Inspiration |

Most nights, Yoongi dreams of you. He knows better, and yet he can’t help himself. It’s like you’re living under his skin, a virus that has taken root in the marrow of his bones. He doesn’t know how he would dig you out if he tried.

If he tried. 

If anyone from the Conclave knew the dangerous game that Yoongi is playing, he would be ousted or killed. Killing would be the mercy, but he’s garnered enough hate within the elite members of the Conclave to know they’d rather him suffer cut off from his resources. His friends. His family. 

Still, Yoongi walks a dangerous line. He knows it’s wrong, letting a witch infect him like a sickness. He is sure that he’s under your spell. There’s no other explanation for the way he always lets you slip away. For the way he closes his eyes and imagines the flutter of your heart against his, the sound of your gasps, the warmth of your hands.

Stars explode behind Yoongi’s eyes as he presses the heels of his hands into them. He’s exhausted, limbs heavy and sore from a day of bloody work. The activity downtown has only worsened the last few months, making Yoongi hunt multiple times a day and return home banged up. 

The pain he can handle. Witches and their demons are nothing new to him. But he knows there’s something he’s missing, something lurking beneath the surface of the increased activity and the strong demonic presence in the city.

Yoongi knows he could ask you. He’s thought about it a few times over the last few weeks but he’s talked himself out of it each time. The curiosity has always lingered there, waiting for him to ask in those moments where you cross his path, coy and sharp as ever. In the minutes you linger, shooting him insults he thinks you don’t mean and playing little word games. 

He doesn’t ask, though. And you never offer, despite the fact that your sharp eyes and knowing smirk lead him to believe you know he wants to ask. 

Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t. Not giving you what you want is part of the fun. He likes the way it makes you bristle, magic crackling at your fingertips. He loves the way it makes you narrow your eyes at him, lobbing empty threats that make him want to purr. 

Whatever this effect you have on him is potent. He can’t shake you off, can’t outrun you. 

And worse, he doesn’t want to.

Rain begins to beat on the bedroom window outside. Though his limbs are heavy from slogging through the sewer system downtown after a witch and her ivax demon, he’s a little too keyed up to sleep. Yoongi senses something staticy in the air, an energy that he can’t name.

Opening up his phone, he flips through his text threads with members of the Conclave. It seems everyone is in it tonight, the demonic activity buzzing and the monsters worse than usual. He frowns when he sees Seokjin mention a prowler crawling through the warehouse district. Yoongi knows that’s where you live and an unexpected sense of unease slivers down his spine.

He locks his phone and tosses it on the bed. He doesn’t need to worry about you. You’re one of the most skilled witches in the city and you’ve killed scores of demons and others alike. He should remove your head for the number of hunters you’ve put in the ground, but you’ve killed triple that in witches. 

Which is why you’re alone. It’s not lost on Yoongi that you’re a witch without a coven and with unusual alliances living in a warehouse all alone with a prowler on the loose. If you know it’s there - you have to know it’s there, being you - he knows you’ll go after it. 

“Fuck,” he sighs at the ceiling. 

Grabbing his phone, Yoongi sends off a quick text. 

Yoongi: Anyone dispatching to take care of the prowler?

Councilman Haer: Negative. The Conclave will not be dispatching. The Warehouse District is not critical and it’ll go back down after it’s satiated. Prowlers aren’t controlled by witches, it might even take a few out for us.

Yoongi stomach flips as he squeezes his phone tight before getting up. He’s tired of the Conclave’s inaction. He knows he’ll get in trouble for going after something so dangerous without backup, but he can’t ask Seokjin and Hoseok to back him up on this one. Not unauthorized, and not for something so dangerous. 

Unsanctioned hunts is exactly how Yoongi has ended up at the bottom of the pool among Conclave members, but he doesn’t care. Politics can’t erase the fact that he’s the best fucking hunter in the city, and no councilman who won’t get their hands dirty can give him grief for doing what needs to be done.

This isn’t about the Conclave, though. Yoongi knows it. Seokjin would know it, if Yoongi told him what he was doing. But the thought of a prowler tearing through the low-income streets in the Warehouse District doesn’t resonate with him. Neither does knowing that you are one of the witches in the line of fire. 

Yoongi dresses and arms himself with military proficiency. A black, long-sleeved shirt with a form-fitted leather vest over it to prevent most stabs and cuts, knives sheathed along the ribbing of the vest, breathable pants with a tactical belt and pockets full of hunting necessities, and his necklace with the Conclave helix. 

At the last second, he grabs a jacket and pulls the hood up to keep the beating rain from soaking him through. While he has some talent with magic to help him heal faster and make his blows stronger and faster, he’s not skilled in the way of weather or anything advanced enough to keep him dry and comfortable. 

Nervousness settles into him as he takes the subway to the Warehouse District. It’s not far, but the train is empty and filled with dirty puddles left behind from passengers. Lights flicker above as the subway rockets unevening on the tracks, making him dizzy. 

When he steps off the train and into the wet underground of the station entrance, he knows something is amiss. His fingers twitch as he jogs up the steps, boots splashing loudly as the rain comes down. Wind whips at him here and when he hears a crack of thunder too loud and rumbling to be human, his instincts kick in.

Yoongi takes off running. He knows where your warehouse-turned-loft is. He’d originally scouted it out to eliminate you. Now, it’s something he’s always kept an eye on, steering other hunters away from your home. It’s silly, he knows. You’d call him weak if you knew, probably. And yet he does it, diverting danger coming your way when he can.

Now, danger is already there. 

The storm rages harder as he heads your direction. Wind pushes at him, making Yoongi lock his muscles as he fights the freezing cold rain and the debris that blows down the street with the force of the storm. He hopes that it keeps people indoors and away from the prowler. 

But Yoongi sees the purple lighting lance out of the sky, an explosion of radiant beauty for a moment before it strikes nearby, blowing transforms into white sparks and he realizes what is so uncanny about this storm. 

It’s you. You’re the storm. 

A roar of rage shakes the air as he comes around the corner to your street. The warehouse you live in is at the end of the road right up against the bay. The wind is mixed with salt spray, stinging his eyes as he runs towards the shadowy outline of your building, nearly impossible to see in the rain and night.

Yoongi manages to roll one of the heavy doors open to your loft, muscles screaming with effort. Stepping inside, chaos greets him. The ceiling is blown out above your home, rain pouring in from the sky. It tastes like lightning and blood. No doubt your storm is what ripped the ceiling apart, but when he sees the prowler, he doesn’t blame you. 

A massive creature stands ten feet tall, rippling with leathered hide and spikes on its back. Long, gangly limbs drag on the floor with black, sharpened talons on the end of each of its three fingers. The prowler walks awkwardly and Yoongi notes the scorch mark in its left shoulder, making it lean as it drags itself toward its intended target. 

Which is you, laying on the ground bloody and rain soaked. Yoongi doesn’t even think. He has no idea if you’re conscious or not, but he’s moving across the room, putting power into his step as he pulls out two of his daggers and jumps high up into the air. 

Yoongi’s intent is to land on the back of the prowler and sink each blade in as he falls. He doesn’t anticipate the demon to turn away from bloodied prey, but it does, swinging its arm wildly to bat him away. He’s lucky that the forearm catches him in the stomach and sends him flying and not the flaws.

Closing his eyes and bracing for impact, Yoongi is surprised when he doesn’t slam into a wall. He opens his eyes to see himself floating toward the floor, suspended briefly before the phantom energy drops him gently. He lands with shock, looking up to where you’re sitting up, one hand extended toward him.

At least you weren’t out cold or dead. Yoongi is really happy that you’re not dead, but it’s cut short as the prowler charges him. 

This time, Yoongi’s ready. He runs at the beast, waiting until he’s right outside of the window of its swiping claws before he dives to his knees, sliding under the creature and between its legs. He twists his hands, cutting the inside of the creature’s thighs as he goes.

It shrieks, shaking the building and scattering Yoongi’s thoughts. He feels fizzy and confused for a moment, the mind breaking scream of the prowler enough to make him vulnerable. He feels a hand on his face and he looks up, momentarily stricken with the thought that he sees an angel. 

“Thank you,” you breathe, and he recognizes your voice. Usually it cracks like a whip, but this is soft. Strange. It terrifies him. “I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me. Just know that I liked our game, Hunter.”

“What are you doing, Witch?”

Your smile is like the sun. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful. Your face is covered in blood and rain, turning your neck scarlet as it runs. There’s a gash above your brow and he sees a blackened wound in your stomach. 

It is amazing, how a creature like you, bred to be an evil, wicked thing can look radiant. Holy. Wonderful. Your hand is cradling his face and it feels warm, despite the rain and blood on your hands. Your thumb is soft as it sweeps across his cheek, a touch more reverent than he’s ever known. 

“Witch,” Yoongi starts, unsure what you’re doing. 

“I’ll miss that. Take this.” 

Before Yoongi can react, your hand falls from his face. You move past him with absolute confidence, lifting your chin. You have a limp as you do, and Yoongi reaches after you but you’re already out of his grip.

Something stirs in the air. He’s only felt power rippling like that once before when he was a child, and the entire Conclave worked together to slaughter an Eldritch Witch that had attacked them and taken out more than half of their hunters.

Now, Yoongi feels that dark presence again, energy buzzing against his ears as he turns to look at you over his shoulder. The prowler senses the power disturbance too, backing away from you as dark particles begin to gather around your hands.

Above you, the rain hovers, disrupted by the frequency of your magic. The buzz in Yoongi’s ears gets louder as he climbs to his feet, clapping his hands firmly over his ears, wincing as it gets higher and louder. He thinks it might burst his ear drums or crack his skull open. 

Disks of dark particles circle you as you approach the demon, which is now roaring once more, trying to disrupt your thoughts. It doesn’t work, the air vibrating with dark matter. You’re at the center of the swirling darkness, the rings rotating around you like an access.

The sound stops suddenly, and for a moment, Yoongi thinks he’s deaf. Black matter pulses from you, exploding outward. Yoongi hits the floor, realizing if he gets hit with your magic, he’ll die. Never before has he witnessed the Eldritch Blast of a witch, but he knows that it's only used as a final stand.

I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me. 

The finality of your words shreds him open as the shockwave of your magic barrels at him. He thinks he’s going to die as it expands toward him, but instead, it arches over him, battling down against a magical barrier. 

Take this. Yoongi realizes you’ve warded him from your destruction, keeping him safe as your blast levels the world around you. He feels the magic beating down on your ward like raging fits, vibrating and shrieking under the pressure of the magic. 

It even keeps him from being injured by the collapsing debris. 

Yoongi looks at you as the world falls to pieces. You go down to one knee, then the other, swaying as the darkness cascades around you in a final flutter of power. Then you fall over, heavy and unmoving as the rest of the building comes down. 

All he can do is scream.

-

Most nights, you dream of Yoongi. You don’t know when it started - perhaps that first night after you met him? You can’t be sure. All you know is that at some point, the hunter poisoned you from the inside out, a disease taking root and rotting you all the way through to your core. 

You always knew that dreaming of him would get you killed one day. But Yoongi was different. Wiser than the rest of his wretched Conclave. Smart enough to question his way of life and his faction’s merciless killings. You think he’ll start asking the right questions soon, that maybe he’ll start seeing the signs that who he has sworn loyalty to isn’t who they say they are.

But Yoongi never asks questions. 

It’s easy to tell he wants to. There’s always that little pause at the end of your meetings. You used to think it was perhaps he was trying to decide whether or not to kill you. Perhaps it was that at first, but now it’s something a little different. A little more. Like he is on the edge of finally asking you what exactly is going on in the city that he protects from monsters.

Yoongi is simple, though. He likes his little life tucked away in the Art District and he likes the wash, rinse, repeat of killing demons and corrupted witches nightly. You think he likes your little run-ins.

Now, you’ve finally paid the price of letting him live these last two years. Had someone told you before you’d met Yoongi that you’d sacrifice yourself for him and the rest of a small neighborhood, you’d have laughed in their face. You weren’t a hero, though some might think slaying your own kind and their creatures was worth praise. 

Penance and praise are not the same, though. 

Dying seems like a good way of paying off your list of wrongs. Especially to save Yoongi. If only to save Yoongi, if you were being honest. 

Witches have a lot of lore about death and where one goes in the afterlife. You’re not sure where you are, if you exist, or if you’re even really a thought. It feels like nothingness and everything all at once, a void of floating consciousness. There’s no pain, but you remember the warehouse. Remember the prowler ripping down the door and coming for you specifically. 

And him. You remember Yoongi coming in, looking like a fucking angel of old as he leapt through the skies. Together you might have taken on the beast. But prowlers are notoriously difficult to destroy, and you were in no shape to protect Yoongi, much less fight by his side as a reliable partner. 

That left you with one option, and though you knew it would end you, you’d done it anyway.

Yoongi’s face swims in your mind. Soft and round, eyes like the bottom of the ocean, a single pink scar carved through his right eye. Mouth soft and petal pink, hair silky and dark, reaching to his shoulders. He’s small for a hunter but he’s strong and broad, his mind his best weapon. 

Witch, Yoongi had said. The last words you’d hear from him, spoken with a softness that you’ve never heard from him before. Rain-soaked and wide eyed Yoongi, looking at you like you held the flame of life, like you were something more than a creature on the other side of the trench. 

The best thing you could do for him was die.

So you summoned your magic from deep within you, that ancient, sleeping thing. You try not to think about what Yoongi’s last memory of you will be, an eldritch horror that will remind him of the creature that slaughtered his family as a child. 

Yoongi will never get to ask his questions. You’ll never get to tell him why you haunt the streets killing your own kind. Yoongi will never know the softness of your kiss. You’ll never know the gentle press of his hands. 

Something brushes across your forehead. You feel now and you frown. Or can you frown, in whatever plane of death this is? You’re not sure, but you feel… the weight of your own body. The beating of your own heart. The rush of air through your lungs as you breathe.

Awareness prickles at the back of your neck like a needle. Slowly, you begin to feel solid. Your fingers twist in soft sheets, and when you turn your head, you feel the plushness of a pillow. Smell petrichor and cedar. 

It smells like… Yoongi. 

“Hmmm?” you feel the vibration in your throat at your unspoken question, nothing but a rumble of noise and confusion. Something cradles your face. “Hunnn..?”

A deep, throaty laugh. “Mmm, I take care of you for a week straight and we’ve moved on to endearments?” 

Your eyes flutter open, lids heavy. The world swims into view, a little blurry as your eyes try to focus in the dimly lit room, taking in the bed you’re in and the face hovering above yours. 

“Yoongi,” you breathe, your heart expanding with unfettered joy. 

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said my name.”

“What?”

“Say it more often.” He leans forward and you watch as his dark eyes drink you in. “And never do that to me again.”

Before you can ask him what that is, Yoongi’s mouth is pressing against yours. You melt immediately, going boneless in a bed you’re unfamiliar with, lost in the citrusy taste of his mouth and the gentle press of his lips. His kiss is soft soft soft, blurring reality as he pulls at your bottom lip teasingly before pulling away.

Eyes fluttering open, you stare at him in wonder. He hovers above your face, haloed by inky-black hair. “Yoongi.”

He smiles. “It sounds much better than hunter. Hun can stay, though.”

“You’re not calling the shots.”

“You’re in no condition to fight me.”

“I killed a prowler, I think you’re no problem.”

His eyes glow. “I think perhaps you’re right. But for now, you’re at my mercy.”

“Kiss me again.” You lift your hands and bring them toward his face, brushing a finger over the bottom of his scar. “And don’t stop this time. I’ll ask my questions later.”

“Of course, witch.” 

Yoongi’s kiss is hungrier now. Desperate. Full of all the questions he never asked and you meet him with equal fire. You don’t care that you’ve beat the odds and lived. You don’t care about anything else but the weight of Yoongi straddling your waist and the feel of his velvet soft skin beneath your hands. 

Every inch of him is warm, filled with the heat of the hunter’s fire that burns through every member of the Conclave. This hunter burns brighter than the rest, though. Warmth blooms where your fingers press over his stomach and chest, ridding him of his shirt. Fire burns where you grab his arms, arching into him as his teeth skim your throat. 

You’ve never felt this in sync with someone, bodies twining together like you were made for one another. Yoongi’s hand is scorching as his touch ghosts down your body, his touch light and teasing as he lowers his mouth to your hardened nipple, catching it and giving a gentle suck.

Honey-dipped moans slip from your mouth. Yoongi’s mouth is wet-hot against your skin, tongue laving hungrily as his hand seeks the heat between your legs. Your thighs open for him easily, giving Yoongi access to the dripping mess of your folds. He curses when his fingers slide between your slit, gathering slick to circle his digits around your clit.

“Fuck,” you hiss, hips twitching. “Don’t bother. I can take you now. Want you now.”

“I told you that you were at my mercy.” You summon your magic, rattling his shelves. Yoongi leans over to your neglected nipple and plucks it with his teeth, making you squeal and shiver, pleasure rattling you. “Fine,” he agrees. “Greedy witch. Should have known.”

“Not greedy,” you shoot back as Yoongi sits up and sheds his pants. Your hands follow him, tracing the faint scars on his stomach, pressing against the muscle of his tapered hips. “I’ve waited for months for you to do something. To say something.”

“I’m not good at that.” 

You hum. “It takes me dying for you to take initiative?” 

“A lesson hard-learned and never to be repeated.”

Yoongi’s cock is hard, bobbing heavily as he shuffles you under him and presses your thighs open for him. The brown tip is sticky with precum, his shaft long and thick enough to make your cunt ache for him more.

“Nice cock,” you tease as he pumps himself, hand gliding and spreading his precum down his shaft.

He grunts. “Can’t wait to feel this fucking pussy,” he mutters, leaning forward and pressing the tip to your entrance. You make a breathy sound, eyes fluttering shut at the pleasure-pained stretch. “Think you can take it, witch?”

“Yes.”

Yoongi sinks in and you second-guess your statement for a second, but the stretch of his cock pressing you open feels good. Deliriously so, your back arching as he bottoms out. You feel him in your gut, deeper than anything ever before and you whine as he draws his hips back before snapping them forward, punching the breath from your lungs.

He sets a deep, hard pace. You grip his biceps, feeling the muscle flex in his arms. Every part of you is on fire, lit up from the closeness of your bodies as Yoongi leans down and melds your mouths together, continuing to fuck you so deep you know you’ll never forget what it feels like.

Every brush of his cock against your g-spot drives you mad. Every whisper of your name - your name, not witch - makes you shudder. His tongue is hungrily as it brushes against yours, his moans deep and throaty as your pussy grips him tight. 

“Fuck,” he pants, sliding a hand down your body to grab your thigh and hoist your leg higher. It changes the angle, making his stroke somehow deeper. Your eyes roll back and your head digs into the mattress as you fist at the sheets. “You can fucking take it.”

“Keep going.”

“As if i could fucking stop.” 

You never want him to stop. Fucking you, kisses you, teasing you, shadowing you as you take on the world. You want every part of your life colored with Yoongi. You want him to be a part of your mornings, your fights, your weaknesses, your strengths. You want to rile him up, needle him with little insults that get him going. Tease him to make him laugh and share that secret smile. 

Every moment has led to this. You don’t know how you never saw this outcome, here with him, crying out his name as your orgasm crests into an unstoppable force. When you come around him, it’s with his name in your mouth and so much need for him in your heart that you think you might explode with energy for a second time. 

After, when you’re wrapped in Yoongi and you feel his hunter’s skin blaze against you, sweat-slick skin pressed close, you think that finally, he’ll ask those questions. You’ll give him answers. 

“Don’t do that ever again, witch,” Yoongi warns. “I will follow you into death.” 

[shitsndgiggs]

Hello there i am new here and love your work so much, this is my first ever request so i hope you could consider writing when you have time.

So the oc and Kenan have know each other since child and their family are also close. Oc have a huge crush on Kenan so did him, but oc is not afraid of showing it so everyone around them friends and family knew about it. They never confess but their actions shows. Kenan have lots of girls pursuing him so oc have moments where she is vey jealous because Kenan is a kind hearted person and talks nicely to them, but Kenan somehow make up to it(?). But.. one day she saw him kiss a beautiful influencer and assume they are dating and oc distance herself from Kenan's life. And Kenan try go win her back and confess to each other.

A little angst with fluff and happy ending please. Thank you <3

JUST US - KENAN YILDIZ

… idk what to write here

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Growing up in a small town, the lines between family and friendship were often blurred. My family and Kenan’s were the epitome of that.

From playdates to family dinners, our lives were intertwined in ways that made it impossible to separate one from the other.

We were always together, whether we liked it or not. But as we grew older, what started as innocent childhood companionship evolved into something more complex—at least, for me.

I don’t remember the exact moment I realized I had a crush on Kenan. Maybe it was when he defended me against a playground bully in third grade, or when he spent a whole weekend helping me finish a school project that was due on Monday.

Or perhaps it was the way he always had this stupid grin on his face whenever he saw me, like seeing me was the best part of his day. Whatever it was, my crush on him grew slowly, steadily, until it became impossible to ignore.

Unlike most people with a secret crush, I didn’t exactly try to hide it. I couldn’t help but blush whenever he was near, and I’d make up the most ridiculous excuses just to spend more time with him.

My friends teased me about it constantly, and our families noticed, too.

They’d exchange knowing looks whenever I gazed a little too long at him, or when I found some flimsy reason to sit next to him at the dinner table. It wasn’t a secret to anyone���except Kenan himself.

Despite my obvious affections, Kenan remained blissfully unaware. He was kind-hearted and warm, with an easygoing nature that drew people to him, especially girls.

And that was the problem.

Even though everyone knew how I felt about him, Kenan never seemed to catch on, or maybe he just didn’t feel the same way.

It didn’t help that there were always girls pursuing him, drawn in by his charm and good looks. He never shied away from them, always speaking kindly, his warm nature making him a magnet for attention. I hated it.

Jealousy wasn’t a feeling I was proud of, but it was hard to avoid when Kenan seemed to have a new admirer every week.

He was nice to them, of course—too nice, in my opinion—and I often found myself seething silently as I watched him chat and laugh with girls who were far prettier and more confident than I was.

But just when I’d start to spiral into insecurity, Kenan would do something small but meaningful, like sending me a text to check in or inviting me over to hang out. It was his way of showing he still cared about me, even if it wasn’t in the way I wanted.

One time, after I had been particularly distant during a group outing, Kenan surprised me by showing up at my house with my favorite snacks and a dumb movie he knew I loved. We spent the entire evening on my couch, laughing until our sides hurt.

In those moments, it was easy to believe that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way about me. But then I’d see him with another girl, and the doubts would creep back in.

The worst of it happened a few months ago. We were at a mutual friend’s birthday party when I saw him talking to a beautiful influencer who had recently moved to our town.

She was everything I wasn’t—gorgeous, sophisticated, and exuding a confidence that seemed effortless. I tried to stay away, to not let it bother me, but when I saw them kissing in a corner of the backyard, it felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest.

I don’t remember much of what happened next. I left the party as quickly as I could, my mind reeling with a mix of anger and heartbreak. The next few weeks were a blur. I distanced myself from Kenan, avoiding him at all costs.

He tried to reach out multiple times, but I either ignored his calls or gave him the cold shoulder whenever he tried to talk to me in person. My heart couldn’t take it. If he had moved on with someone else, then I needed to let him go, even if it hurt like hell.

Kenan, however, was persistent. He’d show up at my house with lame excuses, like borrowing a book or asking for advice on something trivial.

Each time, I’d keep my answers short, making it clear that I didn’t want to talk. But he didn’t give up. It was like he couldn’t understand why I was pulling away, and the frustration was evident on his face.

Finally, one evening, I couldn’t take it anymore. He had shown up at my door again, this time with a sad smile and an apology for not calling ahead. I could see the concern etched on his face, but I was too exhausted to pretend everything was fine.

“Kenan, I really don’t have time for this,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“What happened, Y/N? You’ve been avoiding me for weeks. Did I do something wrong?”

His voice was laced with genuine confusion and concern, and it broke my heart even more.

I wanted to scream, to tell him everything, but the words stuck in my throat. Instead, I just shook my head. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just… I need some space.”

His expression softened as he took a step closer. “Is this about that party? The one where I… kissed that girl?”

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of it, but I forced myself to stay calm. “Why would that matter to me? You’re free to do whatever you want, Kenan.”

“But it does matter to you, doesn’t it?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The truth was too painful to admit.

Kenan sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you. That kiss… it didn’t mean anything. I was just trying to be polite. It’s nothing compared to what I feel for you.”

My eyes snapped up to meet his. “What?”

He took a deep breath, stepping even closer until there was barely any space between us. “Y/N, I’ve liked you for as long as I can remember. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you. And then you started avoiding me, and I thought I’d lost my chance.”

I stared at him in disbelief, my mind struggling to process what he was saying. “You… you like me?”

Kenan’s gaze was intense as he nodded. “Yes, I do. More than you know. And seeing you pull away from me has been killing me. I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. I never did.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as the weight of his words finally hit me. All this time, I had been doubting his feelings, assuming the worst, when in reality, he had felt the same way about me all along.

“But… you never said anything,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“I was scared,” he admitted, his own voice breaking slightly. “Scared that I wasn’t good enough for you, that you’d realize you could do better. And then when you started pulling away, I thought maybe I was right.”

I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They spilled down my cheeks as I closed the gap between us, wrapping my arms around him in a tight hug. “You idiot,” I sobbed into his chest. “I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Kenan’s arms tightened around me, holding me close as if he never wanted to let go. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t important to me. You’re the most important person in my life.”

We stood there for what felt like an eternity, just holding each other, letting the years of unspoken feelings and misunderstandings melt away.

When we finally pulled back, Kenan cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away my tears.

“I don’t want to hide how I feel anymore,” he said softly, his eyes locked on mine. “I love you, Y/N. And I’m going to spend every day proving it to you, if you’ll let me.”

My heart swelled with emotion as I nodded, a smile breaking through the tears. “I love you too, Kenan.”

He leaned in then, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that was soft and tender, yet filled with all the passion and love we had kept buried for so long.

It was a kiss that spoke of promises and new beginnings, of a future where we no longer had to hide our feelings from each other.

When we finally pulled apart, Kenan rested his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips.

I laughed softly, the sound light and carefree. “Probably as long as I’ve wanted you to.”

He chuckled, pulling me back into his arms. “Well, now we don’t have to wait anymore. We’re in this together, okay? No more hiding, no more misunderstandings. Just us.”

“Just us,” I repeated, feeling a sense of peace and happiness that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

[sturniolosangel]

hands- chris sturniolo (18+)

masterlist

warnings: (MINORS DNI) handjob/blowjob, lots of pet names, choking, unprotected sex (plz wrap before u tap it), breeding i think, chris lowkey being a sub bc i was feeling silly, idk what else😭 also not proof read so don’t dox me pookies

summary: chris really likes readers nails.. like a little to much.

text message: orange is chris and blue is reader

i’ll be home in a little gonna go get my nails done real quick💋

okay baby see you soon i love you

i love you too chris

i was driving to the nail salon when all of the sudden i got a notification from my apple pay.

chris sturniolo sent you $100 get em orange for me mama🧡

i could’ve had a heart attack from how much he cares about me. i smiled as i parked at the nail salon.

i had just got done and i was feeling myself. i send a picture to chris of my nails in black and white so he couldn’t really see what they looked like.

thanks pretty boy you can see them when i get home i’m sure you’ll love them.

come on ma you know i hate the teasing

see you soon baby

i was on my way home and all i could think about was chris i cant believe how lucky i got with him. i turned the music up trying to drown out my thoughts. i arrive to the house i shut and locked my car an walked to the door. i opened the door to see chris on the couch he whipped his head back with a smirk as he got up and walked he’s way to me. i put my hands out for him to look and he almost moaned at the sight. “that’s not even the best part baby” i say turning my hands over so he could see the back of my nails. the back of one of my nails had a C and on the other hand one of them had the fresh love logo. “just for me ma” he questioned. “just for you chris” i replied.

he pulled me into a kiss as i smiled into it nails finding his hair tugging. he groaned out as i pulled away keeping my hands in is hair. “aren’t you needy today baby” i smiled at him. “just missed you a lot” he said putting his head in my neck as he starting leaving kisses. “that’s it?” i question as i scratch his head. “well maybe more but” before he could finish i cut him off “but.. you need my attention huh” i say lifting his head up as he nodded. “that’s all you gotta say chris” i grabbed his hand led him upstairs.

as soon as i shut the bedroom door his lips were on mine again. my hand found the end of shirt as i lifted it over his head. he looked down on me as i kissed down his shoulders to his torso. “sit” i say gently as i point to the bed, he obeys sitting down. i walk in between his legs wrapping my hand around his neck pulling him into a kiss as he moaned against my lips. i dragged my nails down his torso to his sweatpants lighty palming him. his head tilted back as i pulled away. i lowered down to my knees in front of him.

i slowly pulled off his pants and underwear. “this is what you wanted huh baby? you wanted me to get nails done so you could see them wrapped around your dick” i say taking him in my hand as i look up. “fuck.. yes that’s what i wanted ma” he struggled to get out. “such a slut for me baby” i speak as spit travels from my tongue to his dick.

“please.. i want your mouth” he said whimpering. i reply with taking him in my mouth while my nails dig into his thighs. he brings his hand to push my hair back looking down on me. my head goes down taking all of him swirling my tongue. “just like that.. fuck ma don’t stop” he gasped as i gagged on his dick. his dick twitched in my mouth as i drug my nails on his stomach. his breathe started to pick up as i bobbed my head. “shit! i’m bout to!” his own actions cutting him off this time as the liquid hit the back of my throat. he moaned as he came down from his high.

i pulled off his dick with a pop as i stood up looking at his fucked out expressing. i took off my clothes as i let him calm down. i kissed him than sat on his lap. “you gonna make me feel good baby?” i asked kiss his neck. he nodded lifting me up and bring me to the bed. i backed in to bed by the headboard as he followed me. i spread my legs for him revealing my glistening now wet pussy. he whined as he lined himself against me. “gonna make you feel so good ma.. worked so hard at work this is the least i can do” he said thrusting into me.

“fuck! chris go faster!” i almost yell out. he grips my hips pounding into me as i arch my back. i pull him down to kiss him moaning against his lips. he brings his hand up to my nipples rubbing them. i reach my hand around his neck again pulling away “gonna make me a mama for real huh? you gonna get me all round and pregnant” i speak clenching around his dick. he let out an almost pornographic moan as he spoke “fuck ma! gonna fill you with my cum you would love that being so full of me” i arched my back as i dragged my nails against his back almost breaking skin.

“shit chris! i can feel youre close too come on pretty boy come with me” i roll my eyes back as he pumping in and out of me. he’s now on top me groaning in my ear. “god i love being inside you” he whispered. that’s what got me as i came all over his dick while screaming out. he was right after me putting his whole load in me filling me up. we both came down from our highs chris starting pulling out and i whine from the lost of contact.

“i’ll be right back baby gonna clean you up than start a bath” he says out of breath. i sit there smiling processing what just happened. chris came back with a warm cloth as i could here the bath being on. he walking up to me and crawls infront of my pussy and takes his fingers shoving his come back into me. “wouldn’t want that going anywhere else” he stated as he wiped my legs down. he just had his hand for you to follow him to the bathroom “chris i cant walk come pick me up!” i said as he turned back around and picked me up.

he laid me down in the bath whilie getting in behind me. he started to wash my hair for me as i closer my eyes. “what would i do without you ma” he whispered. “chris i don’t know what i would without you baby you’re my everything” i said leaning my back against him. “can’t wait to your all big and round” he smiled as he rubbed the soap on my belly. i tit my head up and give him a kiss saying “can’t wait till i’m carrying your child”. i smiled as i looked down at my nails thanking my nail artist in my head.

[askinkiskarma]

ok so what about like an enemies with benefits type of thing with neteyam and they’re so mean to eachother but in the height of it all he’s holding her close and praising her. idk this probably don’t make sense

ok this took me a while, but I enjoyed doing this. hope you enjoy, too, anonnie x

Thoroughly recommend you play this for the full effect (thank you @karma-is-a-cat-purringinmylap for the flawless music taste and ability to match music to text, ily)

wc: 760 words

“If I have to use my radio to tell you off one more time, neither of you are allowed on a mission for a month, do I make myself clear?”

The voice of the Olo’eyktan pierced through the silence in his family’s tent, his angry snd stiff demeanour not one to be trifled with, even on the best day. Today wasn’t one of those days. Your last mission almost went to shit, and if you were being honest with yourself, it was all because of you.

Well. Because of you and likely the world’s most frustrating, annoying, stupid, antagonistic man the world has ever had the misfortune of hosting in its midst. You hated Neteyam. There were certain privileges that came with being the son of the chieftain, the Omatikaya prince, and he made sure to take advantage of just about every one of them. He was cocky and arrogant, and he loved to push your buttons. So many buttons, it was like one of those little machines residing behind the Toruk Makto that the Sky People used to make symbols appear on the screen, and he was proficient at pushing the right combination to make you want to commit violent acts or reckless actions that he knew would get you into trouble.

You were a warrior. Not just any warrior, you were a great warrior. So great, in fact, people were saying you were for sure the next Neytiri, bound to achieve great things, bound to be a key player in the upcoming war with the Sky People.

Neteyam was also a warrior. Not just any warrior, he was a great warrior. So great, in fact, people were already excited for the prospect of him being Olo’eyktan one day, praising his calm, collected demeanour, his incredible hunting skills that were only second to his own father, his outstanding bow work and leadership instincts.

You two have competed your whole lives. For the title of best warrior. For supremacy. For finally settling who was the better one between the two. No one else cared, no one else thought it was important who was on top, as it wasn't a competition to begin with. The more, the merrier, right? Well, that's not how it worked with you two. His pride was wounded every time you were better than him at anything, and your pride was wounded every time he acted like it was somehow unexpected that you were.

He was a better hunter, but you were a better rider. He was better at making beaded necklaces, but you were a better alchemist. He was better with a machine gun, you were better with a sniper. But perhaps the toughest call to make when it came to your competition was when you were fucking each other. You both took great pleasure in making each other come undone, and you took even greater pleasure in rubbing the other's nose in it.

"I made you come in like 20 seconds, that has to be some sort of record."

"You have got to be kidding. You forget that you could barely contain yourself when I was riding you the other day. I didn't realise you can make such pretty, girly sounds, Neteyam."

That was your life, and today, it was no different. Loud moans were slipping past your plush, reddened lips in a saccadic burst of sound that you couldn't help exhale, no matter how much you were trying to. In truth, the man was a god at fucking you. He knew you so well, he knew your body like he's spent his whole life learning it, his whole life studying it. Still, you wanted to spite him, wanted to be quiet, wanted to not seem weak to him, give him another reason to be cocky, another reason to tease and antagonise you at a drop of a hat. But as he rutted into you at a pace that made you see stars, rubbing your clit in the way that made you dizzy, kissing your neck in the way that almost made you forget you hated him, he knew you were putty under his touch, and you couldn't find it in you to care.

"Neteyam, I -"

"I know, baby. You're doing so well for me. Such a good girl on my cock. Come, pretty girl. Come for me, I want to feel you milk me dry."

You came on command at his words, at his praise, that you never thought you'd ever want, but now were wondering how you're going to live without.

[keepmycandleburning]

IDK if this little section of the internet is just uncharacteristically hateful and negative and miserable lately or what. I've been lurking for like a year and posting since like 2 months ago, and it seems recent. I don't really feel like inserting myself into it anymore because it's not fun.

I loved HP as a kid probably like 9-12 y/o, at which time I picked up on something between Bellatrix & Voldemort due to the be quiet, Bella and the no higher pleasure lines. I reread the series for the first time as an adult in Oct-Nov 2023, and I was astonished at how much more I am able to pull from this text now. I came away with a much greater understanding of several things I'd missed as a kid. One of these is that it was very clear to me that Bellatrix & Voldemort were written to be at least sleeping together. VERY CLEAR. It was AFTER this point that I started being part of the fandom, and way after that I've seen people claiming their relationship ISN'T in the books. To me, this is really surprising, because when I've read the books as an adult, it's quite clear. Once I got into the fandom, I found that there are a huge number of people that agree with this interpretation of the text and find is equally obvious as I do.

However, despite the fact that I've seen a number of claims that they DON'T have any relationship in the books, I don't see people using text evidence to support this interpretation. In my personal opinion, this is probably because this is a very difficult argument to make based on the text. But if you think it can be done, instead of submitting negative anon messages without any text support, why don't you write a meta? If anyone would like to make a post going through all of the things people say are text evidence for Bellatrix/Voldemort and explaining why they're not the case, I would gladly read that out of genuine interest. Or, simply going through all the excerpts on their interpersonal relationship and explaining based on the text what sort of relationship you think they DO have.

I have seen countless people over the years analyze sections of text, lines between different characters, their attitudes toward each other, their various actions, and so on, and explain why this adds up to Bellatrix & Voldemort having some sort of relationship. I have NEVER yet seen someone who DOESN'T believe they had a relationship write a text analysis of their opinion. So I sincerely invite you to go through all the bits of text that Bellamort shippers say are canon evidence and explain why they're not—in individual instances and in total. Explain why = not just 'this is my alternative interpretation without text analysis' but *how you justify this being the case based on the text*. How do you justify ignoring how countless bits of the text can be interpreted all in this one way (Bellamort) and instead interpreting them all different ways? How do you explain what JKR was intending to say about Bellatrix & Voldemort's interpersonal relationship considering all their interactions both on- & off-page? WHY are they written the way they are if they don't have an intimate relationship? Or if you believe they're not written that way, again how can you justify this based on the text? If you need a list of text moments and existing 'Bellamort is canon' metas I can compile one.

I'm curious to see what you come up with, because I've never once seen this done—and because, as I've said, it's not an opinion that I personally believe to be supported by the text. If you can explain why it is supported by the text please do that and I'll consume it in good faith.

[juyeonszn]

I LOOK BETTER UNDER YOU

PAIRING choi chanhee x f!reader

WORD COUNT 2.62k

GENRES smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, TW: LEWIS STRUCTURES/CHEMISTRY TERMS 🤢🤢🤢, academic rivals to something idk, kev and jichang appearances, chanhee is a cocky little shit, vaginal fingering, edging, exhibitionism lowkey, there’s not p in v action but they are in a public space so…. take with that what u will

SUMMARY aside from excelling at literally everything else, choi chanhee was also really fucking good at getting on your last nerve.

MORE my brain hurts LOL anyway fawntober day???? 7 holy fuck that is actually insane… ANYWAY shout out reese for being my beta as always <3 and also shout out @sungbeam for the idea <3 laurv u bestie!!! pls reblog if u enjoyed :)

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

You felt stupid. Never in your life had you ever struggled to learn a concept, usually understanding on the first go around. This was the case for a majority of your courses. However, for some reason you just couldn’t quite grasp Lewis Structures in your Chemistry class.

Everything else seemed simple enough, your professor explaining them in a way that made them sound easy. They were anything but. You found yourself stressing over whether or not you could fully comprehend the bonds between atoms in time for your midterm. With the way it was going for you, that hope appeared to get less and less realistic.

“Have you thought about going to tutoring?” Your friend, Kevin, asks as you sit across from each other in one of the library’s study rooms, your chemistry textbook opened up to the section on Lewis Structures.

“I mean, no, I haven’t. I just think they’d judge me, considering I have the second highest GPA in our department.” You huff, scribbling down even more notes on the concept, as if you didn’t already have everything you needed to know. God, being a woman in STEM was so hard.

“That’s your problem,” Kevin rolls his eyes, working on his communications homework simultaneously. “Your ego is too damn big. Maybe if you toned it down a notch and set aside your pride, you’d be able to grow the balls to actually ask for help.”

You’re offended, honestly. Because as much as he was right, he was simultaneously very wrong. It wasn’t that you didn’t have the courage to ask for assistance. It was the fact that your biggest rival was the person in charge of the science department’s tutoring lab. He had the highest GPA in your year and you couldn’t stand the thought of losing to him. Let alone showing your weak side.

Aside from excelling at literally everything else, Choi Chanhee was also really fucking good at getting on your last nerve. You were thankful that he wasn’t in your Chemistry lecture, lest he made fun of you for all the questions you asked pertaining to your struggles. He had a knack for crawling under your skin like a goddamn parasite, doing everything in his power to make sure you never felt a moment of peace as long as he was around.

You hated him. You hated him so much for all of the unnecessary competition and constant need to one-up you in every mutual category possible. You hated his overall overachievement to be better than you, to be above you at all costs. You hated his dumb pretty face.

So how could you turn to tutoring after all of that? It just wasn’t feasible. Kevin wouldn’t get it. He didn’t have an arch nemesis holding him back from success.

“That’s not it at all, Kev. But it’s whatever, I’ll figure this shit out myself.”

You could not figure that shit out by yourself. Midterms were a week and a half away, and you were still ripping your hair out over which structures were more dominant and other things of that nature. This was absolutely humiliating. Perhaps growing up as a gifted kid was the worst thing that could’ve happened to you.

With a frown permanently etched on your face, you glance over at your tablemate’s notes. He had messily scrawled examples of those damn Lewis Structures covering the sheet, eyes flickering back and forth between his notebook and the projector at the front of the lecture hall. Oh how badly you wished to be in his shoes, to decipher everything and anything to do with the dot structures presented to you.

Ji Changmin was by no means a genius. His intelligence levels were above average, but that was still below you. How could he understand this better than you? It made no sense. Then again, he was close friends with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. That had to be the reason why. His friend was practically the Einstein reincarnate.

This meant that you couldn’t even express your difficulties with him either. Chanhee no doubtedly knew that you sat beside his friend. If you asked for his help, it would obviously circle back to him and you’d never hear the end of it. You’d never unhear the taunting voice of Choi Chanhee teasing you for asking Ji Changmin for assistance with fucking Lewis Structures. There really was no winning here.

As the lecture draws to a close and your professor reminds you to study for the fast approaching midterm, Changmin clears his throat beside you with a raised eyebrow. You look at him with thinly concealed surprise. So much for being subtle.

“I saw you looking at my notes,” he snorts. “You know, if you’re having a hard time with this chapter, you should just go to the tutoring lab. I’m assuming you haven’t because Chanhee hasn’t gloated about it yet. But if you were curious, he won’t be there today. He has to go to some meeting for the newspaper. You know that guy’s got like ten different clubs he’s a part of.”

You’re not sure why Ji Changmin would be on your side with this. In fact, it kind of makes you skeptical. You didn’t know how credible he was, so why would you trust this information? For all you knew, he could’ve been attempting to lure you right into a trap. However, despite the bit of laughter he exhibited, he didn’t appear to be lying. You were usually a pretty good judge of character.

That’s how you found yourself showing up to the tutoring lab later that evening.

It was located inside of the STEM building on the fourth floor, along with some of the offices belonging to several professors. You chose to go later at night with the knowledge that most students would be gone by that time. The lab was available for use until 9 PM on weekdays, and it was currently 8 PM.

Your grip on the strap of your bag tightens as you push open the see-through glass door of the lab, grateful for the evident emptiness. Though it also worries you, because there were no tutors around either. Maybe the slowness of a Thursday evening encouraged them to head home early. You decide to wait a few minutes anyway, just in case someone shows up.

That was, unfortunately, a very big mistake. As you’re pulling out your notes and textbook, you hear the low creak of the door opening. You think you might keel over and die when you’re suddenly face to face with The Choi Chanhee.

His lips curl up almost menacingly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well well well, look what the cat dragged in.”

“Shut the fuck up,” your teeth grit together. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting or something? Why are you here?”

“Ended early,” he shrugs. “The tutors have a habit of leaving prematurely when I’m not around, so I wanted to see if there was anyone here. Guess it’s my lucky day, huh?”

This dude was a walking headache for real. You were seriously going to walk out of the lab with a migraine if he kept talking like he was so fucking smart. He was, but he didn’t need to know that you thought that. His own ego was large enough without you inflating it even more.

“I’m going home.” You state simply, mouth drawn in a straight line. You didn’t have the patience for his aggravating ass tonight.

“Am I really that horrible that you won’t accept my aid? I heard that you’ve been having problems with Lewis Structures. I may like to joke around, but I’m not really a masochist who likes to watch people suffer,” Chanhee chuckles with a shake of his head. “You’re just so easy to rile up.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter, avoiding his piercing gaze. “But fine. If you’re actually gonna help me, I’ll let you just this once. I can’t afford to have this cost me a perfect midterm grade.”

He grins, something that looks conniving. You hate how much more attractive it makes him. You were thankful again for the fact that there were no other students present. It was embarrassing enough to be seen being civil with the worst person in the world.

Chanhee takes the seat beside you, turning it so he’s facing you. You keep your body squared to the table, flipping your textbook to the page on Lewis Structures and preparing a fresh sheet in your notebook. You feel your cheeks warm up with the attention on you, his arms still folded in front of him.

“S-So I don’t get the— um— I don’t— uh— I don’t understand the dominant— the dominant bonds,” your eyes squeeze shut, mortified by the amount of stuttering and fumbling over your words. “How do you— um— how do you determine them?”

He smiles at how cute you are, a shy side of you he’s never seen before. He was so used to you constantly arguing with him, used to you standing your ground and competing with him even when you knew he’d come out on top. He places an arm on the back of your chair, leaning in to read what was in your textbook although he didn’t need to. He just wanted an excuse to get closer to you.

“So you’re gonna want your formal charge to be as close to zero as possible. In order to calculate that, you’ll have to subtract the number of bonds divided by two and the number of electron pairs from the total number of valence electrons per individual atom,” Chanhee explains, pointing at the formula on the page. “How about I give you a couple examples to work on?”

You nod slowly, afraid your voice might betray you again. He jots down a few molecular examples on your notebook, pausing for a moment to nip at his lip and examine you. You blink, a little confused by the action.

“What are you doing?” There’s a slight crack in your tone.

“I have an idea,” he licks his lips. “To make this more rewarding for us both.”

Your brows furrow, his response further perplexing you. One of his hands situates itself on your thigh, your eyes widening. Of all days to wear a skirt, why did you have to choose today? You glance between his face and his hand, lips parted.

“Ch-Chanhee?”

“Yes, pretty?”

You don’t know why the nickname has your upper and lower heartbeats skipping, sweat forming on your palms. You’d always been too preoccupied despising him for being so much better at everything than you were. But right now, his fingers creeping beneath the denim of your skirt, all of that seemed to fly out of the window. You gasp as his fingertips reach the lace of your panties.

“I can make you feel good,” he says into your ear, thumb massaging your thigh. “I can make this worth your while if you do well for me.”

He was giving you fucking whiplash. One second he was teasing you for coming to the tutoring lab, and the next he was trying to coax you into coming quite literally. You think you’re the insane one, however, because you can’t conjure a logical reason to say no.

“Okay,” you breathe, shakily picking up your mechanical pencil. “Okay, I’ll do my best.”

You begin to work on the first molecule he wrote out, trying to ignore his slender fingers pushing aside your underwear and rubbing your clit gently. Your bottom lip quivers when his lips make contact with your neck, kissing up and down softly with each circle of his phalanges on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Chanhee presses two fingers inside of your cunt, smiling against your skin when you whimper, nearly dropping your pencil. You fight back tears threatening to spill from your eyes due to lack of reaction, his digits so skilled at working your pussy and looping that knot in your abdomen. Your legs spread wider as you attempt to finish the first example as quickly as possible, so he can knock you over that edge that seems so close now.

“D-Done,” you shiver, lids almost fluttering shut from pure bliss.

Chanhee judges your answer, fingers halting their movements when he recognizes an error. You whine, that taste of sweet release pulled right from under you like a rug. He tsks, kissing your temple as if he hadn’t just denied you an orgasm.

“That’s not the dominant structure. Try again.” He instructs, not continuing until you’ve picked up the pencil and rewrote the Lewis Structure.

You ignore his palm applying pressure to your clit as his fingers thrust in and out of your drooling cunt, lips sucking at the exposed base of your neck, where it meets your shoulder. Your focus zeroes in on completing this structure correctly, rearranging the electron bonds until they’re right. You feel your climax returning when he praises you for getting it this time.

“Such a smart girl,” he murmurs into your collarbone. “Now do the other one.”

He doesn’t stop his assault, increasing the pace of his fingers while you scribble out numbers and draw electron pairs. Your orgasm inches towards you, like a freight train going at full speed. Chanhee curls his middle finger, tripping you up and causing you to write down a wrong number on accident. Ever the perceptive, he relaxes his wrist and retracts his hand, the band in your stomach loosening along with it.

“Please, Chanhee,” you cry, tears beginning to roll down your cheeks. “Need to cum so bad.”

“Mm-mm,” he scolds. “Not until you finish the structure properly. C’mon, I know you can be a good girl for me.”

You force yourself to persevere, bottom lip between your teeth when he slips his fingers back into your pussy. Pretending like you weren’t on the cusp of euphoria was making you dizzy, but it was necessary if you wanted to reach it completely. You couldn’t handle a third denial.

Chanhee speeds up his fingers, adding his thumb on your clit for extra stimulation. It was like he did enjoy watching you suffer. Perhaps he really was a masochist. You scrawl the last electron bond of the structure, releasing the pencil from your grasp and throwing your head back with a low whine. He hums in appreciation at a job well done.

“Oh my god,” you moan softly, looking down at where his hand disappears in your skirt. “Feels s-so good.”

“Yeah?” Chanhee goads, peppering kisses on your jaw and nibbling at your pulse point. “Ready to cum for me, pretty? Gonna cum all over my fingers?”

You can’t even reply, his cocky voice filling your head as he finally permits your orgasm, walls convulsing and clenching around his digits with a wail. It hasn’t even occurred to you that you’re in a very public, very open space, where anyone could walk in at any given moment. Your brain is too foggy from your overstimulated cunt and the comprehension that Choi Chanhee just fucking fingered you to even consider the consequences of the location.

It only takes a few seconds for you to come to, your body catching up with your head. You look at Chanhee with eyes resembling those of a prey cornered by its predator.

“Why is your hand still inside my skirt?”

“‘S warm down there,” he shrugs with a sly smile. “Besides, I’m not really done with you yet.”

“What are you talking about…?” You trail off, throat dry from how winded this guy was making you.

“You still need some practice before your midterm, no? And I kinda wanna see how pretty you look under me.”

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[mari-lair]

Honestly? Since Tsukasa and Nene are currently my least favorites in the manga, I did not care for most of the chapter but I do have a handful of thoughts about the clock keepers!

Idk how to start, so I'll just ramble.

The owl's eyes are like the clock keeper's masks, the only ones that don't seem to have mechanical glassy eyes are the baby owls.

And Mirai, the kid of the keepers, is the one I have never seen wear a mask. I doubt there is any deep meaning but it does make me wonder if she even has a mask she can wear.

EDIT: Mirai does wear the mask!

The lack of tubes attached to the baby owls is cool to, it makes me headcanon that they feed on visitors' time to grow up and only after maturing does the time they steal go somewhere else.

Mirai stole the show though so let's talk about her! The clock on her neck ticks in the boundary, it tics very loudly, but it stays silent outside the boundary.

The only time she made clock sounds before this arc was when using her power to age things up. (and even then, the sound of her neck clock is implied to be faaar louder than her 'what i touch grows old' ticking)

So far I can only think of two reasons why:

1-) Her clock only tic inside the boundary.

2-) She is using a special power she doesn't normally use to judge Tsukasa, which is the option I am more inclined to believe. Since her behavior and speech changed.

If this power uses time in any way to be activated (be it her time, or something else), I do not know, but I adore her judge hammer. Is really cool. Destroy him girl.

There is also a hierarchy of power.

Akane is the weakest, Natsuhiko called him 'the grunt' for a reason, he is bascally an intern of the clock keepers. So now that Mirai is revealed to be in the middle, my suspicion that Kako is the big boss has been given a thumbs up.

I am excited to see more of her. Just look how cute she is, with her little bow and dramatic entrance!

And I do wonder what happens when someone is marked as 'guilty'

But what made me insane in this chapter is the way they connect the clock keepers with the idea of judgment. And how that made Akane being chosen as a clockkeeper finally click.

I always adored how opinionated and judgemental Akane is, and how strong his sense of justice is, but I didn't connect the dots that he is the perfect pick for the role until Elise mentioned it, reminding me that Akane is the one that gives others characters the most call outs in the manga, he is an amazing voice of reason. He has been passing his judgment on others since his introduction as a clock keeper.

Hell, the reason he hates the clock keepers so much in the first place is because he considers their actions (tricking him/almost killing Aoi) unforgivable.

I want Akane to have a hammer of judgment so bad, because it fits him so much. He needs to throw hammers at people, I think he deserves to throw hammers at people.

tldr: this chapter makes me want to give Akane a hammer so bad it makes me look stupid. If I didn't have an art block I would have drawn it myself.

[bonesandthebees]

I'm not sure if any of this is as important to say as I feel like it is, but just in case, here it is.

Idk about you, but I'm really tired of having things taken from me because the cc's were abusive. I say this with an emphasis on the fact that supporting their victims and condemning their actions is far more important, that I'm not giving that man a single cent anymore. The most important thing the community can do is support the people he hurt. But It's still gonna hurt to purge my playlist because we, as a community, were lied to. And something I derived comfort from, especially in the wake of recent personal events, has been taken from me. Not by the community or by the people coming out; by him and his actions.

So seriously thank you for creating a space for people to talk about what's going on, because it's so easy to feel guilty right now for having feelings about this situation. Especially as a neurodivergent person whose main comfort is music, including music (and YouTube videos) he made.

I just feel like it's important to put this out there. The community as a whole needs to support the victims, but it's also okay to feel betrayed and it's okay to look at his songs in your playlist, dreading deleting them, for a while. No one will hate you for that. You're not a bad person for that. They're just songs or videos, but they're content that mattered to some of us. How dare he ruin that for all of us. How dare he.

Now that I've written a whole entire novel, please take care of yourself. I know I'm an internet stranger but I almost didn't write this because I think that it's important to emphasize that while I'm glad to see Tumblr users creating a space to talk for those of us who don't post and such, I also think it's way more important that your blog be a safe space for you yourself.

- a rambly anon 🪐

yeah, trust me, I'm fucking sick of this too. you're not selfish for feeling upset about deleting his songs from your playlist or not being able to watch vods of his for comfort anymore. you are not a bad person for having an attachment to someone who lied to his audience about who he was. you are human. you are allowed to be upset.

also, to veer slightly from your point but to bring something else up, while I know there are varying opinions on the community in this I personally don't think I want to let this make me stop hoping for people to be good. yes, it might seem like an endless pattern of people you like being revealed to be assholes. and for some people, they might want to leave the community to avoid that disappointment again. for me, I'm not going to put cc's up on a pedestal and expect them to be great people, but I'm not going to expect the worst from them either. keep my expectations realistic, but not pessimistic. content creators are flawed human beings like the rest of us, and sometimes they can be really shitty people, but sometimes they can be good people too. and I'm always going to hope for the latter.

and thank you for thinking of me. honestly the reason I've slowed down answering asks the past few days is precisely because I've been trying to take care of myself. I've gone up and down in terms of how I'm doing, and when I'm not feeling up to it I don't touch my inbox.

and despite everything that's happened this morning, I've had a good day. I got myself a cinnamon roll. I'm drinking green tea and it's sunny out. I saw flowers blooming on the side of the road and it made me smile. focusing on the little things, you know?