#just leave if you don’t like the product

[n0vazsq]

Tired of being alone | OP81 x Reader

pairing . . . oscar piastri x nurse!gf!reader

summary . . . Watching your boyfriend reveal your relationship on international TV, you realise that you missed him more than you realised

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 712

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . i have a free lesson rn so why not be productive and write? it's a bit shitty and kinda rushed but my next lesson is eng and i can NOT be late for it </3 saur sorry pookie!!

taglist . . . @barcapix (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . You slumped into the couch, limbs heavy from another exhausting shift. The hum of the TV filled the room, flickering softly in the dim light.

Your scrubs were still on, your shoes kicked off by the door. The thought of getting up to change or even eat felt too overwhelming after all those back to back shifts at the hospital. All you wanted was to melt into the couch and let the familiar background noise wash over you.

Oscar’s voice drifted into the room, steady and comforting. His interviews were always a joy to watch, making you smile and laugh, just like a kid watching their favourite cartoon. You hadn’t even registered what the interview was about; something about the upcoming Las Vegas GP, until the interviewer leaned in with a knowing grin.

"So, Oscar, we heard you stayed busy during the break between Brazil and Vegas. Anything special?"

You perked up, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Oscar’s laugh came through the speakers, soft and a little awkward. It was a laugh you knew well, the one he gave when he wasn’t sure how much to share. Your heart started beating a little faster.

"Well," he began, rubbing the back of his neck, a habit that always made you melt. "I spent most of it taking care of someone close to me. She works really long shifts and don’t always get enough rest, so I made sure she was… comfortable."

You blinked, sitting up straighter. Did he just-? Your heart skipped a beat, eyes widening.

The interviewer’s eyes widened at his sentence, just like how you did, as if he was mimicking your actions. "Interesting," he teased, leaning in slightly. "Care to share more details? Who’s this mysterious lady?"

Oscar’s smile was small, but it reached his eyes, soft and sincere. "Let’s just say she's in healthcare. A nurse, actually. She's been pretty amazing, and I wanted to make sure she had a break too."

Your breath caught in your throat. There it was. A soft launch, wrapped in his quiet, subtle way. Oscar wasn’t the type of person who did grand gestures or flashy declarations, but this? This felt perfect. It was a little secret, meant just for you, even with the world watching.

The interviewer pressed on, curiosity piqued. "A nurse, huh? Sounds like you’ve got someone special in your world."

Oscar’s eyes flickered with that shy warmth you adored. "Yeah," he admitted, voice softer. "I do."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, pressing a hand to your mouth. The exhaustion of the day melted away, replaced by a warm, fluttering feeling in your chest. He always had a way of making you feel seen, even when you were miles apart.

Your phone buzzed beside you. Picking it up, you saw that it was a text from Oscar.

Hope you’re watching. Rest up, yeah? ❤

You bit your lip, a grin spreading across your face. He always knew exactly what you needed.

Busted, Mr. Soft Launch. I owe you a dinner.

Your phone buzzed again almost immediately.

Only if you let me cook.

You leaned back into the couch, the smile refusing to leave your face. The weight of the day didn’t feel so heavy anymore. Knowing that he’d spent his break looking after you, making sure you were okay, it made all the long shifts and sleepless nights worth it.

On the screen, the interview moved on to other questions, but you weren’t really listening anymore. You were too lost in the quiet joy of knowing you were loved; subtly, quietly, and now, a little bit known by the world too.

You texted back, fingers hovering over the keys for a moment.

I’m tired of being alone all day. Come home faster.

His reply came quickly, almost as if he’d been waiting for it.

See you soon. It’s worth it for you. Every time.

Your heart swelled, and you sank deeper into the couch's soft cushions, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like a blanket. Even with the miles between you, he had a way of making you feel like you were home.

In that adorable way that made you feel loved and cherished, just like when you were a kid.

God, you loved him more than anything.

[ghcstao3]

AU where ghost is a relatively famous voice actor—by name, anyway. he’s never shown his face in those ‘behind-the-scenes’ videos, doesn’t do red carpets for the bigger productions, always leaves the press junkets to his colleagues. he loves his job, don’t get him wrong, it’s fun and creative and he’s met some really great people, he just… has never wanted to be in the limelight. that’s not for him.

and it’s easy to get away with, because all of the voices he uses are not really his. there’s elements of him, sure, but nothing someone in person could necessarily place, unless they really listened close and were some kind of super fan. in real life, ghost is soft spoken, and maybe his voice is a little rough from the years before he learned how to properly take care of his vocal cords, but it’s still completely separate from all his characters. that was a rule he stuck with throughout his career—no using his real voice.

soap likes to consider himself a fan of simon riley.

(of his work, obviously. just his work. he definitely isn’t intrigued or anything by the mystery that is the voice actor. nuh uh. not at all.)

he’s seen just about every film and show that features one of the actor’s many voices, knows what little trivia is known of him, and, ultimately, he really respects the guy. his younger sister had finally landed herself a sizeable role in voice acting pretty recently after years of odds and ends, and soap knows how difficult it is to make it in the industry. so what if he may also have a little bit of a crush on the unknown man’s talent?

and so what if that little crush has presently brought him to a bookstore, because soap had heard simon would be voicing a character in some adaptation and soap wanted to get himself caught up? it’s fine. it’s normal. totally normal.

it’s in search of the book when soap accidentally stumbles into an absolute brick-wall of a man as he rounds the corner. soap mutters out apologies, goes to move past him, but then looks up and melts, just a little. because it’s then that soap discovers the prettiest set of brown eyes he thinks he’s ever seen. and when his gaze briefly flicks down—he sees that the man is holding the book he’d been looking for.

soap grins, does his best to look charming in spite of the fact that he’d just run into this poor, beautiful bastard. “was lookin’ for that one, too.”

the man’s brow furrows in confusion before he realizes what soap had been referring to. his eyes fall almost self-consciously to the book.

“oh, yeah. it’s a good book. gave my nephew my other copy, so i’m just…” the man lifts the book in some helpless gesture.

“hm.” soap nods. he can’t help but notice how soothing the man’s voice is, low and rough around the edges, but completely soft in the middle. “y’hear they’re making a movie?”

the man perks up, and for a moment soap wonders if that’s panic he sees flash in his eyes. he clears his throat. “yes, that’s actually why i’m, well. i owned it before, but because i’m doing the—because of the movie, i had to…” the man sighs, shoulders slumping. it’s endearing, the way he’s gotten so easily flustered, like he isn’t used to small talk. “never mind. i’ll let you… i hope you enjoy it. the book. and movie too, i guess.”

soap laughs, not unkindly. “the book, we’ll see. favourite actor’s in the movie, so i’ll probably like it either way.”

“yeah?” the man cocks his head, curious. “who’s that?”

unashamedly, soap replies, “simon riley.”

it’s not unnoticeable, the way the man’s face blossoms a faint pink before he coughs and ducks his head. “he’s, uh. heard he’s good,” he says. “so others say.”

for a moment, it looks like the man is preparing to bolt, so soap sticks out his hand as a last-minute resort to keep him around just a little longer. “i’m john. friends call me soap. long story, but if you maybe let me take you out for some coffee, i could tell you?”

apprehension lines the man’s posture, but he eventually tucks the book under one arm and shakes soap’s hand. “friends call me ghost. and i’d like that.”

ghost’s hand is warm, his grip firm. soap tries not to let himself linger in the touch.

“sounds like a date.” soap smiles up at ghost. “did you want to do that today, or…?”

ghost shakes his head. “can’t today. but i can give you my number?”

soap agrees, but as he reaches for his phone he’s met with an empty pocket and the realization that he’d left it on the counter at home. he sighs, feeling disheartened, readying an excuse when he gets an idea. “d’you have a pen?”

ghost does, in fact, have a pen, though soap supposes he could’ve just gone and bought one from the bookstore just as well. soap tells him to stay put a minute, goes to retrieve his own copy of the book, and comes back with it opened to the first page.

“i’m buying it, anyway,” soap says. and it’s commemorative, he doesn’t add, of the day and reason we met. because he’s hopeful this may actually go somewhere.

ghost writes his phone number inside, deliberately hands the book back to soap with the cover pressed closed by his thumb, and they head to the register together.

it’s only when soap gets home and finally goes to type ghost’s number into his phone that he sees, above the digits, a small simon :) inscribed on the paper.

[devotedfem]

«Yoongi Scissorhands»

Synopsis: He was a shy and cute creation, but his inventor died before making him hands, leaving him with scissorhands. He hid in the dark until you met him, giving him a shelter and showing him he was deserving of love.

M. Yoongi x f. Reader

2.8K words.

Genre: Inspired by Edward Scissorhands (1990) | yander-ish.

Tags: Edward scissorhands au, fluff but at the same time dark, cute and sweet Yoongi, but possessive and obsessive Yoongi (don't let him fool you), sweet reader, naive Yoongi, dangerous Yoongi, he's too whipped for reader, insecurities, jealousy, codependency, cuteness, soft Yoongi and reader, very fluffy but very toxic, reader likes her space and Yoongi likes her space too, obsession, murder, smut, rough s3x, cunnilingus, somnophilia, infatuation.

From the series masterlist; Hush.

Navigation Masterlist.

“… There are all kinds of scissors. And once there was even a man who had scissors for hands.”

You sighed rolling your eyes, you regret telling your mom that you’d help her sell her Avon’s products in the neighborhood. You needed the small sales commission, but no one bought anything from you.

This was frustrating, you already knocked all the doors of your neighborhood.

But then… you watched the gothic mansion on the hill from the side-view mirror of your car. The former owner died months ago of a heart attack, and since then, the castle looked abandoned. People say that the former owner was a creator, an artist that lived like a hermit.

You shrugged at your own thoughts, starting the car in the direction of the mansion. After all, curiosity always get the best of you.

You stood before the huge front door of the mansion castle-like, knocking the door and entering uninvited when you noticed that it was already opened.

“Uhm… hello? Is anyone at home? I don’t want to intrude but I have such good Avon products to show you!” You spoke out loudly, your customer-service smile wavered when the only sound that greet you was the echo of your voice.

You were about to turn around defeated until you heard steps in the second floor, making you grin with hope.

You wanted to at least sell one product today, and you were willing to do anything to achieve that, even if it involves literally intruding a stranger’s house and climbing their stairs.

The second floor looked like a huge studio, without rooms, just an empty and big space with canvas everywhere.

You narrowed your eyes when you saw a figure hiding in a dark corner, almost as if they were scared of you.

Your brows knitted, but that didn’t stop you from trying to charm the stranger with your customer-service smile.

“Oh, hello there! Sorry to intrude in your house, I just want to-“

You stopped mid-sentence by a scream of horror. In front of you stood a man with Scissorhands.

Fucking Scissorhands. You didn’t believe your eyes.

The pale boy flinched at your scream, widening his eyes and taking some steps back. His shoulders were a bit shrugged, and you noticed him hiding his Scissorhands behind his back.

A pang of guilt squeezes your chest, you didn’t mean to make him feel bad about himself.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry for my reaction, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m y/n, nice to meet you!” You smile wide again, trying not to waver this time.

The boy tilted his head to the side, like a confused puppy. If you say you didn’t melt by his cuteness, you’d be a liar.

“But I’m the one who’s scary,” he mutters softly, with his cat eyes looking at you with curiosity.

He was so pretty that it took your breath away. His raven and long hair boost his beautiful pale face. He was all dressed in black, goth alike, but his behavior was like that of a puppy.

And well, his Scissorhands were intimidating, but you stopped feeling scared when you realized he was harmless.

“You’re not scary at all, you look very nice to me. You’re just a little bit different, but there’s nothing wrong with that!” You grinned crinkling your eyes, you were trying your best to make him feel comfortable.

The boy returned your gesture, with a soft smile that bared his gums prettily.

You came here trying to be charming not charmed.

You watched your surroundings again, noticing that this place looked so abandoned and desolated.

“You live here alone?” You asked cautiously, watching his every expression.

He pouted with a sad nod.

“Yes, my creator left me without having finished my hands.” He said with a deep sigh, watching his scissors for hands.

He said left, not died.

You felt that pang of pity again, he looked so alone and hurt. Maybe you could… help him?

“I can… I can take care of you for a couple of weeks, to help you find a job and a place to live in the neighborhood.”

The boy blinked shocked, pointing a finger-blade to himself.

“Me? You’ll help me?”

“Yes,” you said smiling softly. “What’s your name?”

“Yoongi,” the gothic boy smiled with stars in his pitch-black eyes, melting you again.

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“All right,” you whispered, applying softly concealer under his watchful eyes. You felt his gaze heavy on you while you’re applying the Avon products.

He was still under your touch, his face inches from yours. You tried to ignore the hot knot in your belly by the closeness, but he made it difficult with those piercing and gentle eyes fixated on you.

You saw the next product that you haven’t tried on him, a lip balm. The mischievous part of you made you use your finger to apply the product softly on his lips, and you heard him inhale sharp. You tried so hard to hide your smirk. His lips were so soft at the touch, so you pull your finger away quickly to stop your train of thoughts.

“All done!” You singsong, acting like you didn’t see his face falling when you pull yourself away from him.

You two grew closer the last couple of days, your family wasn’t too eager of accommodating him, but when he offered himself to tend the house garden, turning it into a beautiful magazine-like garden, then they started to accept him.

You ignored the gossips of your nosy neighbors, happy to make Yoongi feel at home. Yoongi always did his best effort to please you, working as a hairdresser thanks to his hair cutting skills. You tried to be always around him, making sure that nobody take advantage of him. He was too naïve and well-intentioned for his own good, so you do your best to protect him.

He always follows you like a lost puppy, and you tried to teach him how to be more independent, but even then, he will still follow you everywhere. It’s like he needs to be around you, so you let him be for now.

Every morning he wakes up next to you on your bed even when he has his own bedroom, but again, you let him be. He cooks all of your food, and follows you when you went out to buy more products or sell to your neighbors. The townspeople say between whispers that the strange man was obsessed with you, but you pay them no attention, it was only gossips of ill-intentioned people.

It was so hard not to like him when he gives you one of his gummy smiles, or when he pulls your foot on top of his knee while trying so hard to tie your shoes, making you giggle at his serious and concentrated face. He was adorable, but… he also doesn’t know much about boundaries.

You see, after the second week you stopped feeling comfortable with him waking up beside you on your bed, not when he was getting so close to you. The other day his chest was glued to your back and his face buried into your neck, you wouldn’t bat an eye if it weren’t for his bulge poking your ass. You told him to wake up on his own bed, but he didn’t pay you attention, ignoring your request.

You started to get annoyed when he didn’t stop following you around even when you ordered him to give you some personal space. But he just shrugged, playing dumb as if he didn’t understand you at all.

That’s why you sneak away from him, having some space for yourself for a couple of hours before he caught you, and when he did it, it’s when you realized that something was off.

Yoongi’s eyes were crazed and his raven hair disheveled, he ran to you, wrapping his arms around your body and crying his heart out with relieve and fear. You were frozen, your limbs unmoving by the shock of his state.

“Why did you hide from me! I thought you left me like he did!” He sobbed, his teary eyes broking your heart.

You ignored the pain you felt at his Scissorhands cutting the skin of your arms.

You let him sleep with you that night, and it was your first mistake, because after that he started to sleep with you every night, not taking no for an answer.

You felt trapped.

Your second mistake was to show yourself vulnerable in front of him. You were crying because the man that sells you the Avon products acted rude and cruel towards you, not wanting to sell you or your mom any more products at all.

Your face was buried in Yoongi’s neck, with his arms wrapped around you while you were sitting on his lap. Your eyelids felt heavy when he rocked softly and gently your body, humming a sweet song into your ear. You’ve never felt so cared for, maybe that’s why you let yourself fall asleep into his arms that night, ignoring the feeling of lips brushing and mouthing your skin.

That was a moment of weakness, one that cost the rude man’s life. You screamed at the top of your lungs when you saw stains of blood covering half of Yoongi’s face, and the blood dripping from his Scissorhands were evidence enough of the crime he committed. His brows knitted with worry at your reaction, he wasn’t good at dealing with your rejection.

“I did this for you, because he hurt you, and I love you too much and I don’t want to see you sad.” He burst out with a trembling chin and a watering gaze.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, your blood ran cold, you were just shocked. You ignored him, walking past him, turning a deaf ear to his pleas and his heartbroken cries of your name.

Even though you acted tough, you were very weak for him, that’s why you didn’t tell the police that he murdered someone. You felt so ashamed of yourself, you didn’t even know why you were doing this for literally a stranger that you just met a couple of weeks ago. It was just so stupid, you were stupid.

Since then, Yoongi showed you a side of him that was darker, opposite to his sweet and innocent persona. He was acting more possessive and territorial towards you, threating to kill any man that dares as much as talking to you. He didn’t listen to your angry yells, simply staring at you as if you were a toddler throwing a tantrum, pissing you off even more. He was controlling, following you everywhere, you didn’t have space for yourself.

And the worst part was that you were trapped, because you were scared of him hurting more people or your family, and you were worried that he would tell the police that he murdered someone and that you lied for him.

It was a loss-loss situation.

You hide yourself in your bathroom, sitting on the floor and crying your eyes out. The only moment that you have time for yourself, away from him, was in the bathroom. And you needed the space to shed some tears before facing your ugly reality again.

The sobs were getting louder and wrecking, you covered your mouth but your cries could still be heard outside the bathroom. You winced at your own loud outburst.

Yoongi knocked immediately the door.

“Y/n are you okay? Can I come in?” He asked in a rushed tone, you know him well enough to sense his desperation.

You didn’t say anything back, wanting him to suffer.

“Y/n! Please open the door right now!”

This time he yelled at the other side of the door, you listened to his Scissorhands trying to turn the knob but failing, either way the door was locked. He hit the door hard, begging for you to open the door and shouting in anger when you simply ignored him.

Then there was an unsettling and deep silence, way too long for your like.

Until the door burst open, making you startled and scream.

Yoongi’s lips were curled down and his jaw clenched, it was the first time you see him this angry. His gaze was stern and his breath heavy, he walked towards you with long steps, and you flinched away cowering into the bathroom’s corner. His boots stopped before you, you made an effort to not look up and avoid his gaze. He squatted, growling when you still didn’t meet his eyes.

You cried in pain when he used his Scissorhands to grab your chin making you look at him. You felt blood dropping from the wound. His ebony eyes widened, and his brows knitted in worry and anger.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but you make it very hard.” He said with a pained grimace, as if the thought of hurting you wounded him more than you.

“Go back to your house Yoongi, I don’t want you near me.” You pressed between teeth, fighting back tears of frustration.

Yoongi inhaled sharply, with hurt flashing his watery eyes. His lips wobbled and the tears stream like cascades to his chin, he didn’t wipe them away, he only stared at you as if you just stabbed him.

You gulped hard at the sight, ignoring your heavy heart and avoiding his eyes, looking at the tiles of the bathroom instead.

“Is it… because of my hands? I know they’re ugly and sharp, but I promise not to hurt you with them.” He urged with a broken voice, coming closer to you, inches from your face and pushing you deeper into the corner. You felt trapped by him. He just didn’t let you breathe, it’s all him, him and him everywhere you take a breath.

“It’s not your hands! I like them! It’s just… you don’t give me space and you go around killing people and that’s not okay! Can you just have some common sense?” You barked against his face, panting with anger.

Yoongi looked like a kicked pup by your scolding.

“Sense? ‘Don’t know ‘bout that, ‘just know that I like your-your space and I don’t like bad people making you sad.” He whispered with a weak and soft voice, looking defeated.

You closed your eyes a second, the pang of guilt was too strong to bear. He didn’t know any better, he was just naïve.

You grabbed his face into your hands, stroking softly his cheeks with your thumbs, wiping the dry tears away. Yoongi sighed into your touch, with his lids heavy, staring piercingly at you.

You two stayed like that for a couple of minutes, until Yoongi pulled your wrists away, getting more closer to your face till your noses brushed.

“Do you forgive me?” He asked with a thin voice, his hot breath caressing your lips. You felt dizzy by his voice, scent and closeness, it felt like he was putting you under a spell.

You just nodded weakly, not wanting to utter a word and break the tension growing between you two.

His lips roamed until your jaw, brushing the skin and smiling against it, that was your only warning before he stands up pulling you with him, making you gasp and wrap your legs around his waist, he tried to not cut you with his Scissorhands.

You liked being carried by him as if you weight nothing. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his raven and soft looks, his scent making you dizzy again.

He took you to his room, closing the door behind him with his foot. He tried to lay you down on his mattress, but you clung yourself around him tighter, not wanting to pull away from his warmth for even a second. Yoongi chuckled at your reaction, trying to lay you down again.

“Let go, pretty girl,” you melted at his words, letting go of him and lying on his bed. Yoongi smirked mischievous at your compliance.

One of his finger-blades caressed your cheek lovingly, your heart beat was wild against your ribcage. Yoongi proved to be very dangerous, but at the same time, very sweet and innocent. You didn’t know what to think of him anymore.

“Let go of your thoughts, focus on me.” He ordered with a deep voice, his heavy gaze was watching your every expression, not missing your doubts.

You blinked surprised at his tone, but you smiled at him anyway.

Your legs were opened widely to make room for him, your toes curled at the feeling of his groin rubbing yours. You whimpered with your back arching at the feeling of his tongue lapping your neck like a starve dog, touching you everywhere like a possessed man. You ignored the pictures of you pinned to his wall, too busy moaning against his ear.

He’s doing what he wanted to do the first time he saw you.

You can read the +18 continuation on Patreon.

taglist:

@demonshauntingthedoves @pynkgothicka @cutequeen00 @nothingsreal420 @ririkookiemonster-archives @cannotalwaysbenight @loumin908 @devilzliaison @uniquecutie-puffs @polarnightmyg @acherry04 @lizziekitty @withmuchluv-tannie

[tinytinyblogs]

Take Me Back

After the breakup, all they can think about is you.

Hyung line, Maknae line(coming soon)

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Chan had been isolating himself since the breakup, retreating into his studio and shutting out the world. At first, he thought it was what he needed—to be alone and process everything. But as the days blurred together, he wasn’t sure anymore. Was he giving himself space to heal, or was he just drowning in his own sadness? The once-productive sanctuary of his studio became a place of frustration. The half-finished song on his computer screen mocked him, the melody incomplete, the lyrics refusing to flow. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus. All he could feel was the heavy ache in his chest. In that moment, he swore all he could think about was you. His mind reeled, his breath caught, and he realized he had never known just how important you were in his life until now. Sometimes, he swore he could hear your voice, faint but clear, nagging him gently like you used to whenever he overworked himself. The familiarity of it almost brought him comfort, but it was just a reminder of how much he missed you. His friends were worried.

They tried to coax him out, to remind him that he didn’t have to deal with this alone, but Chan would just shake his head and offer a weak smile. He spent his days clicking his pen absentmindedly, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. One evening, as the pen clicked rhythmically in his hand and he stared blankly at his computer screen, the door creaked open. He didn’t look up at first, too lost in his thoughts. But then he caught sight of you standing there in the corner of his vision. He blinked, startled, his heart skipping a beat it's a quiet exchange of gazes between you and him. "Stupid imagination," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head and turning his attention back to the screen. “Until when are you going to keep caving yourself in like this, Chan?” His head snapped up, his wide eyes locking onto yours. The sound of your voice was too clear, too real. He couldn’t believe it. “Have you eaten?” you asked softly, stepping closer to him. Before he could respond, you reached out and gently took the pen from his hand.

Chan froze his voice seems caught in his throat, perhaps because he's too surprised to see you standing there in front of him. His breath catching in his throat. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming, but when you didn’t disappear, he stood abruptly. His arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you close. “It’s real... it’s really you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “God, I missed you so much.” His face buried itself in the curve of your neck as if he couldn’t let go. Your hand gently patted his back, and he exhaled shakily, some of the tension in his body melting away. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “Please don’t leave. Keep nagging me, please. I need you in my life.” You let him hold you, your presence grounding him. “I thought I’d lost you forever after that stupid argument,” Chan said, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “But now… I know I can’t lose you. Not when I need you the most.” And for the first time in weeks, his heart felt just a little lighter.

Minho

Minho was stubborn, always had been. After the messy breakup, he carried on as though everything was fine, pretending nothing had changed. To most, he seemed unaffected, moving through his days with the same routine. But underneath the facade, he felt hollow. Without you, his world felt off balance. Motivation, once his driving force, slipped through his fingers. He went through the motions, but everything felt heavier now. Minho became more irritable, snapping at small things that would’ve never bothered him before. He wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, but even he couldn’t deny that everything felt wrong without you. Though Minho had never been one for overt displays of affection, he missed the simple things—like holding your hand, the warmth of your fingers intertwined with his. It was ironic how much he craved it now, a reminder of what he’d lost. In quiet moments alone, he’d find himself staring at his phone case, the one you’d given him. The stickers you both had printed together—the ones that matched like high school sweethearts—mocked him with memories of happier times.

He’d trace his finger over them absentmindedly, his chest tightening at how much he missed those days. One particularly rough day, overwhelmed by the mess of emotions he kept bottled up, Minho decided to go for a run. The cold air burned his lungs as he pushed himself harder, as though he could outrun the ache in his heart. But when he stopped, panting and catching his breath, he froze. He was standing in front of your apartment building. His feet seemed to have carried him there without him even realizing it. Somehow, he found himself wondering just how much he had been longing for you. Before he even realized it, his feet had carried him to your place—but even then, he couldn’t bring himself to turn back. For a moment, he debated turning back, but the pull was too strong. Before he knew it, he was stepping inside and walking toward your door. And then, as if fate had planned it, the door swung open. You were there, about to head out. Both of you froze. “How many times do I need to tell you to zip up this jacket?” Minho broke the silence, stepping closer.

Without waiting for permission, he gently pulled the zipper up, shielding you from the cold. “Winter’s coming soon.” His voice was soft but firm, and the gesture was so familiar that it made your heart ache. His hand gently cradled yours, feeling the coldness of your hand, and slowly, his warmth began to transfer to you. There was a beat of silence as he looked at you, his gaze searching yours. Finally, he spoke again. “We should... get back together.” Your breath hitched, but you didn’t respond, letting him continue. “We made that silly promise, remember? To stay together forever,” he said, his voice quieter now. A hint of tears welled up in his eyes, revealing a side of Minho you had never seen before. “I still want that. I still want you.” Minho’s hand reached up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for a moment. “I’m sorry... and I love you.” For the first time in weeks, Minho allowed himself to hope.

Changbin

Changbin couldn’t take it anymore. The weight of his own words—those impulsive, thoughtless words that shattered everything—had been suffocating him from the moment they left his lips. A few days had passed since the breakup, but each one dragged on endlessly, a torment he couldn’t escape. Regret gnawed at him like a relentless shadow, keeping him restless and desperate. That evening, he sat alone on the couch in his apartment—the same one you used to share. His leg bounced nervously as he buried his face in his hands, trying to untangle the chaos of his thoughts. But no matter how hard he tried, every thread led back to you. The empty space beside him, the silence that filled the room, and the constant ache in his chest all screamed one thing: he needed to fix this. He needed you back. By midnight, the longing became unbearable. Grabbing his jacket, Changbin bolted out the door, his heart hammering with every step. The cold night air stung his cheeks, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were consumed with you—your smile, your laughter, the way you looked at him as if he were your whole world. How had he let it all slip away?

When he reached your place, his hand trembled as he reached for the spare key you had once entrusted to him. The metal felt cold against his skin, a stark reminder of what he had lost. Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door and stepped inside, his heart pounding so loudly it echoed in his ears. The sight of you stopped him in his tracks. You stood in the dimly lit kitchen, reaching for a glass of water. Your movements froze as you noticed him, your wide eyes mirroring his surprise. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Changbin’s teary eyes locked onto yours, his longing laid bare. You were the one he had missed more than words could ever express, and seeing you now, so close yet so distant, nearly broke him. “I... I’m so sorry,” he finally stammered, his voice quivering. “For the argument. For the awful things I said. I didn’t mean any of it.” He took a hesitant step closer, his eyes glistening with tears he could no longer hold back. His shoulders shook under the weight of his emotions, but he pressed on. “Please… don’t leave me.”

His voice cracked as he reached out, gently taking your hand in his. The familiar warmth of your touch sent a jolt through him, grounding him in a way nothing else could. His thumb brushed softly over your knuckles, a silent plea for forgiveness. “That day was stupid,” he admitted, his words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “Everything without you is stupid. I can’t think straight. My heart hurts so much, longing for you.” He tilted his head, his teary eyes searching yours for any sign of hope. “What should I do without you?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Can we… can we try again? Please. Let me make it up to you. I’ll do anything—just don’t let this be the end.” For a moment, the room was filled with silence. Changbin held his breath, his heart suspended between despair and fragile hope. As his hand squeezed yours, his eyes pleaded with you. And in that stillness, he dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same ache he did.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin sat on the edge of his bed, his phone resting in his trembling hands. The screen illuminated his face in the dimly lit room, his thumb hovering uncertainly over your contact. It had been two weeks since the breakup, and those fourteen days felt like a void swallowing him whole. He wanted to reach out, to see you, to explain everything, but his pride and fear kept him chained. The idea of showing up unannounced at your door was tempting, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he turned to his art, pouring his emotions onto blank pages as a silent plea to you. Every sketch he posted on social media held pieces of your story: your favorite flower, softly rendered in delicate lines; your favorite place, drawn with a wistful longing only he could convey; and little moments only you two shared, immortalized in graphite. They were messages without words, confessions without context, but still, you didn’t respond. Each day of silence cut deeper, leaving him questioning whether you even saw them or if you had chosen to ignore him altogether.

Tonight, the uncertainty became unbearable. His thumb hovered over your contact name once more, hesitating as doubts clouded his mind. What if you didn’t want to hear from him? What if he was only making things worse? But the ache in his chest pushed him forward. With a shaky breath, he finally typed out a message 'Can we talk?' He stared at the words for a long moment, his heart pounding as he debated whether to send them. When he finally hit the send button, relief and anxiety washed over him in equal measure. The message went through. You hadn’t blocked him—that alone was enough to spark a fragile hope. Emboldened, he typed again, his emotions spilling out 'About us. I want to explain myself… and I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance.' After hitting send, Hyunjin couldn’t sit still. He started pacing the room, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. Each passing second felt like an eternity, his mind racing through possibilities. Maybe you wouldn’t reply. Maybe you were done with him for good. Just as his resolve began to waver, his phone buzzed. He froze, staring at the screen as your reply appeared 'Come over.' Hyunjin didn’t waste a moment.

He grabbed his jacket and rushed out of his apartment, his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the world around him. He ran down the street, barely remembering to slip on his shoes, his thoughts a chaotic blend of hope and fear. When he arrived at your door, he hesitated for just a moment before knocking. The door opened, and there you were. His breath hitched as your eyes met, the weight of the past two weeks settling between you. You stepped aside to let him in, and he entered slowly, his hands fidgeting at his sides as the door clicked shut. “I miss you,” he began, his voice cracking with raw emotion. His dark eyes, brimming with sincerity, searched yours. “And I’m sorry. Losing you—my anchor, my everything—was unbearable. I’ve been falling apart.” He stepped closer, his hands trembling as he clasped them together. “Can we… try again?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I can’t let you go. You’re the one for me. Please, give me another chance.” His vulnerability lingered in the air, and for a moment, the silence felt infinite. But as you looked at him, his honesty and pain breaking through your defenses, the barriers between you began to crack.

[usomads]

Don't Knock It 'Til You Try It // Jimmy Uso x Reader

Author’s Note -> I’m back! Took me a minute to find the right way I wanted this to play out but we finally figured it out 😂 happy reading!

Plot -> Tensions between you and your roommate reach an all-time high, and the both of you decide to act.

Pairings -> Jimmy Uso x Fem!Reader (Y/N)

Warnings -> Cursing, Daddy Kink, Oral Sex (Fem!Receiving), Hickies, Spanking, Restraints, Hair Pulling, Unprotected P in V, Creampie, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 3.1k

Fuck, I needed this. The warm water of the shower you were under cascaded down your body as all the tension sitting in your muscles from the day faded as it went down the drain. You were finally able to unwind, taking a moment to allow the stress to escape you and relax your mind. You stood under the water for a moment relishing in the serenity you were feeling, turning the faucet off just before the water turned cold and wrapping a bath towel around your body and tucking it in to hold in place. You added leave-in conditioner and brushed the product into your damp hair before securing it in a bun with a clip and stepping into your room to change. You grabbed a pair of shorts and a baggy cropped tee, not bothering to put on a bra. It’s not like you had anyone to impress, the only plans for this evening were your friends Bianca and Jade coming over for dinner so you didn’t feel *that* obligated to dress up tonight. 

You made your way to the kitchen to start prepping dinner and was startled to see Jonathan, your roommate, sitting at the island in your kitchen scrolling on his phone. 

“Shit, you scared me!” You sighed. “I didn’t know you were here tonight, I thought you’d be out and about so I invited Bianca and Jade over… I hope that’s okay.”

He looks up at you through his eyebrows and gives you a soft smile, “Oh, hey, yeah was ‘posed to but canceled plans. Felt like stayin’ in tonight.” Jon lifted himself from his slouched position and raked his eyes down your body, forcing you to try to hide the blush that was spreading across your cheeks. “Don’t worry ‘bout me though, y’all enjoy yourselves. I’ll stay outta the way.”

“No, no, that’s okay! You’re more than welcome to hang out with us for the night if you want,” you smiled.

“And talk a bunch of girly shit? I’m good,” he chuckled. You giggled then turned to gather the ingredients for dinner tonight, responding as you grabbed things from the fridge.

“Oh, c’mon, we’re not that bad, I promise!” You shut the fridge and opened the cabinet to get all the seasonings you needed, trying to reach them from the highest shelf in the upper cabinet but your smaller frame failed you. You were standing on your tiptoes, stretching your arm as much as you could but still not quite getting a fingertip on them. You were even trying to jump a bit to get ahold of them to no avail. In your attempts to reach for them your cropped top you were wearing had ridden up, revealing to Jon that you were indeed not wearing a bra and exposing the lower part of your breasts. His eyes widened watching as they moved from you reaching and jumping, the shirt you were wearing teasing to ride up and expose them to him fully. After a moment of watching in silence, he snapped out of his trance and got up from his seat at the island and was bold enough to walk behind you. Your back was flush with his chest as he placed one hand on the counter next to you, trapping you against the counter as he reached the spices in the cabinet with ease and placed them in front of you. You felt his front brush your ass and your breath hitched in your throat, leaving you frozen in place. He leaned down to your ear as his body held you against the counter. “We’ll see, mamas.” Your eyes fluttered shut at the huskiness in his voice, sending goosebumps over your skin and an aching heat to your core. You felt his eyes burning through you, watching your reaction to him before removing his hand from the countertop and walking back to his room- your head spinning as you tried to collect yourself.

“Y/N, please be serious, you don’t find any of this hot?” You, Jade, and Bianca were sitting on your couch, wine glasses in hand as the three of you were talking about the movie playing on your TV. The two characters were in the middle of a steamy sex scene, a depiction of dominance, roughness, and pure unadulterated lust dancing across the TV screen. “No! That’s not what I’m saying at all,” you defended, “I’m saying it’s so unrealistic…”

“Unrealistic?! Girl, what kind of sex you havin’? This is child’s play, like spanking, hair pulling, all that is pretty tame stuff honestly…”

The three of you didn't notice Jon emerging from his room to get water from the fridge, him slowing his steps as he overheard the conversation you were having. His curiosity had gotten the best of him; he wanted, no, needed to hear what you had to say.

“No it isn’t,” you paused, “no one I’ve been with has done shit like this with me. We just, I don’t know, have normal sex? Like, none of the extra stuff…” you brought the wine glass to your lips as you trailed off.

“Extra? Oh my god, Y/N…” Bianca sighed, rubbing her temples, “it’s necessary. Jesus, you gotta get with a guy that does all this for you, I promise you’ll never wanna go back to all that vanilla shit.” Bianca turned her head, noticing Jon getting his glass of water. “Oh, hey, Jon! How are you?” You choked on the wine you were drinking, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you. Fuck, how much of that did he hear?

“‘M’good, just chillin’ for the night,” he responded, watching you as he spoke. 

“What’s your take on all this?” Jade questioned him, “Do you agree, or is all this ‘extra’ or ‘unrealistic’ like Y/N seems to think?” You lightly hit her arm, trying to not drag him into this but it didn’t work.

“I mean, ion think it’s extra. In my experience, it makes it better,” he looked directly at you as he spoke, “You never know until you try it.” You looked down at your thighs trying to break the tension that came with his eye contact, but you found yourself being drawn to his gaze. “See, Y/N, even he agrees. You gotta live a little, sweetheart.” Jon chuckled at Bianca’s response, keeping eye contact as he walked slowly back to his room; releasing a heavy breath when he disappeared into the hallway. You didn’t know what was happening tonight, between the scene in the kitchen earlier and just now you were in a haze. Your body was responding to him in ways it had never done before, and you kind of liked it. Your imagination got the best of you as the three of you turned your attention to the movie once more, putting yourself in the shoes of the female character on screen. You wondered how you would feel if a man did these things to you, but more specifically, if it was Jon.

You three finished the movie after another hour, your two friends deciding it was time to head home for the night. You shared your goodbyes and walked them to the door, and you were now cleaning up the food and dishes that were left behind. Jon walked into the kitchen as you were washing the dishes, leaning against the countertop next to you.

“Y’all have fun tonight?”

“Yeah, it was good to spend time with them. We don’t get to do that much anymore…” you trailed off, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. “You know, you could’ve come and hung out with us too. I know you caught that last little bit but I promise we weren’t talking about anything, um, crazy all night.” You became flustered, the memory of him overhearing about your vanilla sex life replaying in your head yet again. “You’re fine, there was nothin’ crazy about it,” you put the last dish you washed on the drying rack and turned to him as he spoke, “if anything I learned more about you tonight.”

“Like what?” You replied nervously, your voice shaking. He got up from the counter he leaned on and stepped in front of you, leaving little space between you. Your breathing stopped as you looked up at him, anxious for the words that were about to come from his mouth. 

“That you ain’t been fucked right.” You swallowed hard as his eyes deepened with lust, motionless where you stood. “But I know how to fix that.”

“H-how?” You stuttered, backing up against the counter as he walked towards you.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice earlier when you was reachin’ in the cabinet,” he played with the hem of your shirt, his fingers dangerously close to the skin of your bare breasts underneath. “Wearing this little ass shirt with nothin’ underneath, you thought I wouldn’t peep that?” You looked at your feet but his finger found its way under your chin and lifted your head to look at him as he continued. “Or how your body reacted when I came up behind you and helped you out? I know you felt that,” he watched you shiver under his touch, “and I’m willin’ to bet that if I put my hand right here…” his fingers danced along the skin of your exposed abdomen and traveled downward to where you wanted him most, “I’d find out you’re drippin’ f’me. Would I be right on that, sweetheart?”

“I-” You were cut off by his hand sliding into your shorts, his fingers tracing your folds. He groaned, proving to be right as his fingers were now covered in your wetness.

“Did I do this, baby girl?” You moaned softly in response.

“P-please…”

“Use your words, Y/N, please what?”

“I-”

“You were thinkin’ about me during that movie, wasn’t you? You want me to fuck you like they do in the movies, don’t you baby?” You bucked your hips at his words, desperate for more.

“Tell me what you want, princess. Daddy’s gonna give it to you, you just gotta tell me.” You moaned at the name he used and he smirked, loving how responsive you were to him by his words and a small touch. 

“Y-you,” you breathed out, “I want you.”

He growled, crashing his lips into yours and grinding his hips into your front. You could feel his hard cock rub you through your clothes and you moaned in his mouth, allowing him to take over as he kissed you with urgency. He lifted you off your feet as he continued to kiss you, carrying you down the hallway and to his room. He threw you onto his bed, making you gasp as your back made contact with the mattress, and climbed on top of you. He removed your shirt, your nipples hardening at the cool air as he took you in and moaned.

“Fuck, Y/N, so fuckin’ perfect. Been dyin’ to get my hands on you, baby girl.” He connected his lips to your neck, sucking hard on the skin and making you throw your head back in the process. He assaulted the sensitive area with his mouth and teeth, creating purple-ish marks before sitting up and admiring his work. He got up from the bed as you sat up, a look of confusion coming across your face as he went to his dresser and pulled out a shiny object. Handcuffs. He crawled back onto you and wrapped the metal locks around your wrists and restraining you to the headboard. 

“Be good and hold still f’me, move a muscle and I punish you. Understand?”

“Y-yes..”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, d-daddy.” 

“Good girl.” 

His hands found the waistband of your shorts and pulled both the shorts and the panties underneath in one motion, making you wince as the cold air made contact with your pussy. His tongue poked out as he licked his lips at the sight of your pussy glistening before him, clit swollen as he looked up with hooded eyes. 

“Such a mess… and all f’me,” he mumbled, diving headfirst into your aching folds. The warmth of his tongue glided through your folds, forcing you to suck in a breath and bite your lip in the process. Your body fought itself to stay still for him, aching to touch him. His beard rubs against the inside of your thighs as his tongue laps at your core, making you jolt in pleasure. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to maintain the little self control you had left and trying your best not to make any movements. Soft pants escape your lips as the pressure in the pit of your stomach builds to a slow crescendo.

“Don’t be shy, baby, let me hear you. Tell Daddy how good he’s making you feel.” He wraps his lips around your swollen bud and you moan his name loudly in the process, your body giving into the feeling as your back involuntarily arches off the bed and you tug at the restraints around your wrists. “Aht, aht, aht. Remember what I said, baby,” he uses an arm to hold your hips in place, “Behave. I wouldn’t want to punish you now, you’ve been so good f’me so far.”

“P-please, mmm, please… I wanna touch you,” you whimpered. His eyes flickered up to you as he continued to eat you ravishingly. You knew what that look meant, he wanted you to beg for it. Jon had you feeling desperate, pathetic even. And it was so hot.

“D-daddy, oh fuck, daddy p-please let me touch y-you. I promise I’ll b-be good just, mmm, please…” you trailed off, the pleasure he was giving forcing you to surrender to him completely. 

“Be patient, Daddy’s gonna give you what you want, mamas.” He reverts back to your clit, sucking and biting while he teasingly drags two fingers around your entrance. Your breathing picks up and you groan at his actions, your need for him growing by the second. He slides two fingers inside, moaning into your clit as he feels your walls tighten around them. You pull at the restraints once more, moaning his name as he thrusts his digits. You feel like you’re on fire, his tongue and fingers working double time and giving you more pleasure than your body can handle. He curls his fingers as he pumps them inside of you, the pads of his fingers brushing against your g-spot as he continues to take all control from you. You feel your orgasm approaching, and fast.

“I- I’m so close, please, I-” he removes his fingers completely, and you whimper at the loss of contact. Your eyes are watery from all the pleasure he’s been giving you, and being denied release has you ready to cry on the spot. “Not yet, you don’t cum until I say so, sweetheart.” He crawls back up to you, undoing the handcuffs around your wrists and flipping you over to your stomach before you can realize it and lifts you by your torso to your hands and knees. “Arch your back for me.” You obey, feeling your lower back stretch as much as it can as you do so. “Fuck, Y/N, you look so pretty like this. I can’t wait to fuckin’ ruin you.”

He pushes his cock inside you without warning, making you cry his name and bring your head down. He grabs your hair as he thrusts into you at a rough pace, smacking your ass as he does so.

“God, you feel so fuckin’ good. Look at me.” You force your eyes open, looking back at him as he pounded into you. You watch his movements, the sweat beading on his forehead as he concentrates on fucking you like his life depended on it. He looked so fucking good like this. Your pussy flutters around the length of his thick cock, and he throws his head back. “Ah, fuck. Do that shit again.” He slams into you harder and deeper, you claw at the bedsheets as moans and praises flood out of your mouth. Your pussy tightens around him again, signaling your release.

“I feel you, baby. You’re gonna cum all over this dick, aren’t you? That’s it, fuck, you love it when I fuck you like this, huh?” He smacks your ass as you moan once more. 

“S-shit, I fuckin’ l-love it, Daddy. You’re s-so fuckin’ deep. Mmm, please.” Jon feels his release fastly approaching as well; he shoves you down until you’re flat on your stomach and places a hand on your back, using it as leverage as he fucks you harder. Tears fall from your cheeks as you cry out, your orgasm about to crash into you. 

“You gonna cum, baby? Go on, let me feel you soak my cock. Let go, pretty girl, cum for Daddy.” You cum around him violently, your body convulsing as you scream his name, completely engulfed in the euphoric feeling of your orgasm as he continues to fuck you through it.

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, Daddy’s gonna fill this pussy up. You want that? You want Daddy to make you his?” he growled.

“F-fuck yes, oh my god, please Daddy. Need you to cum inside me. P-please. Make m-me yours.”

With one last hard thrust of his hips he cums, his release painting the inside of your walls. He moans your name as your pussy completely drains his cock, feeling as he fills you completely. You two remain there for a moment, panting heavily as you try to bring yourselves back to reality. Jon pulls out of you, wincing because you’re still sensitive. He pulls you up and kisses your forehead, moving your hair from your face.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. C’mon, I’ll start the shower, ma.” You got off the bed, your knees failing you as you almost fell over. Jon chuckles at your reaction and you blush.

“Don’t worry, baby girl, I gotchu. C’mere.” He picks you up bridal style, carrying you off into the bathroom as you relax in his arms.

[joaniscruzing]

echoes in the elixirs

WOOHOOOO yay this fic is finally done! i had so much fun writing this! thank you to everyone who supported the last fic i did, i was so happy to see so much interest! special shoutout to @joj0-thesimp for requesting and proofreading beforehand! per usual, requests are ALWAYS welcome! I write for jinx, vi and caitlyn, and do take smut requests.

also, i did my research on the herbs. a good amount of people predict that Jinx struggles with schizophrenia, which its symptoms can be alleviated with ginkgo. please let me know if my research is wrong, that way i can fix this :)

summary: jinx, looking rather off, enters your apothecary, to which you take care of her for the night.

warnings: mention of jinx's mental health issues, mention of seizures, lots of fluff, herbs are basically meds for jinx, jinx needs a hug, one-bed trope, cuddling

“Have a great day!” you called as you gave your product to your client. In the Undercity, every day in the apothecary was quite a busy one. Hundreds of people would file in every day, as they would trade in for your elixirs and remedies that would cure their pain and suffering, even if it was just for a while. The atmosphere was always loud and bustling, making you struggle to keep up.

However, when Jinx would arrive in your shop, things would usually calm down for the amount of time she was there. Business would slow down, and it was usually just you and her alone in the store. Or maybe it wasn’t, and you were just so enamored by Jinx to even notice. Either way, Jinx was your one time to stop and take a breather during the day, which was ironic, considering her electrifying, energetic presence. 

“So, do you have my order, sugar?” Jinx would ask when she would enter.

“Sure do! Right here,” you’d always answer. However, today, there was something different. Jinx seemed like there was some sort of hole inside her. She hadn’t shown up for a while, since Silco had died, Piltover had been attacked, and she had had to hide to stay alive.

Today, however, she entered the store, a hood over her head, and her head low. Not to your surprise, instead of greeting you with those words, she browsed the store first, looking around, and generally not communicating with anyone. Understandable. However, you saw she was shaking as if winter’s frost had bitten her, and she had been without a coat. Trying not to overthink it too much, you went on with your business, packing up and giving your orders and occasionally convincing customers to buy more. When your final order was given, you left your table to check up on Jinx.

“Hey Jinx, are you okay?”

She seemed startled by your words, as if she didn’t expect you to come up to her and ask her that. She immediately tried to leave the store, ultimately avoiding your question.

“Jinx!” you called after her, grabbing her arm. “Do you need anything?”

“Yeah,” Jinx admitted, choked up in tone, “I need a shit ton of ginkgo biloba. More than you usually give.” Your stomach drops. Fortunately, now you know exactly what’s going on, and what you can do to help her.

“Is it getting worse?” you ask, turning Jinx around, and holding her shoulder. Her face was all you needed as an answer. Tear streaks lined her face, black and mixed up with her makeup. Her fingernails were unpainted and outlined with her blood from picking at the skin around it so much. The only distinct features that stayed were her two long braids, still hanging off her head and cascading past her waist to her ankles.

“With Silco dead, I just… don’t feel important anymore. They’re getting louder. I can’t sleep, or work, or do anything, I-” Jinx divulges, her head in her hands. You remove her hands from her face and replace them with your own.

“Jinx, do you need to stay here tonight? I can make you some food, and make you a nice tea with the ginkgo, as well as some lavender to calm you down. Whatever you need.”

“How much ginkgo?”

“The usual dosage I give you. Any more could make things a lot worse. Plus, the lavender will calm you down, help you sleep.”

“How much worse? Like what, I pass out for a week or something?”

“Jinx, have you ever heard of a seizure?”

“Oh. I guess I could stay the night. It’s not like I have anything better to do at home or anything.” With that, you closed up your shop, locking the doors, and covering the windows, that way no one knew you were secretly housing Piltover’s most wanted criminal.

You took the time to make Jinx a nice meal, as you knew she already didn’t eat enough, let alone whatever her eating habits were during this tough time of hers. As the meal cooked, you also ground up some lavender and ginkgo, which you then put into a bag in order to prepare her tea. After that, you left the kitchen in the back of your shop real quick to check on Jinx.

“Shut up! She wants to help me, I know it!” you heard her shouting, pacing around the room. Before you knew what you were doing, you ran up to her and hugged her as tightly as you could, making sure she knew that you did care. You heard her breathing slow down, and her body unwind as her tense state left her.

“You good, Jinx?” you asked. She pulled away to look at you, surprised.

“Why do you even care this much?”

“Look, you’ve told me a few things about yourself here and there. And it sucks. Other than the herbs I know you need to calm down, I know you need to be taken care of right now. You need someone to be there for you. And I want to be there for you right now.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re nice to be around.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re funny, and caring, and innovative, and your presence always brightens my day.” With this, Jinx’s round, purple eyes widen.

“I brighten your day?”

“Yes, Jinx. You brighten my day. I look forward to seeing you on the days you’re to come pick up your herbs just so I can see you, even if it’s for a few minutes. Jinx, everyone here is so down to business, and you’re the one who always lingers. Well, sometimes. Other times you were afraid of getting caught for sneaking out, so you were in and out.”

Jinx hugs you this time, burying her face in your chest.

“You’re a good person, don’t ever forget that,” Jinx discloses, tightening her grip.

“Okay, hate to let you go, but I do need to check in on the food and tea.” Jinx holds on as you struggle your way to the kitchen, making sure the food didn’t burn during the moment between the two of you. Luckily, everything was ready, and in about five minutes, dinner had been served for you both. Jinx’s tea helped her greatly, calming her down. The sense of calmness in her eyes brought relief to yours, as you were glad to know that Jinx’s head would slow down for a bit. She was also happy to eat the meal you cooked, which, per your prediction, was the first proper meal she had had in a very long time. After your scrumptious meal, you both prepared for bed. However, there was one small kink in the works of your plan to take care of Jinx; there was only one bed.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you assured, “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Are you sure? I can sleep there too,” Jinx replied. You put your foot down though, insisting that she needed a proper sleep. It truly didn’t worry you at all. You began to lay down on the ground, preparing for your sleep. Just as you were about to close your eyes, you heard Jinx’s voice from the corner.

“Could you maybe sleep in the bed with me?”

“Yeah, is everything okay?”

“I just, haven’t slept in a new place that wasn’t where I was holed up in for a long time. Plus, you’re comforting to be around.” You get up, pillows and blankets in your arms, and settle into the bed with Jinx. She clutches onto your waist, her legs wrapping around yours. It takes every fiber in you to not turn around and spoon Jinx right there and then. However, your bountiful dinner, Jinx’s tea, and the calming atmosphere put both of you right to sleep.

so. i originally was going to make this some sort of a love story, but i felt like i couldn't considering jinx's mental state in this fic. shall i draft a part 2/ time jump where they get together?

taglist: @ananas26t @stupendousbananasharkcop @sarcasm-is-my-form-of-attack @t-wylia @emiliaisdead @ihatethis222 @west-c0ast-00 @shootingc @iliterallyhavenoideawhattosay @sweetstarfalls @klerns-birdie

(btw, this is the largest taglist i've had per explicit requests. thank yall so much for supporting <3)

[springgirlshowers]

Inked Doodles

Summary: Joost loves to draw on you, you love to surprise him.

WC: 1210

A/N: this was caused by this video lmao

Joost loved drawing, it became one of his favorite hobbies. It helped him calm down and relax whenever he was stressed.

He also had a tendency to use you as his canvas. Picking up a small habit of leaving little doodles on your skin.

If you were next to him and he had a pen or marker in his hand, you were at risk of a small doodle being left on your arm, hand, or even your legs sometimes.

The marks ranged from stars and smiley faces to full drawings. Dogs, cats, flowers music notes, a little figure of you or him. Anything he was thinking of at the moment.

It was cuter when he’d leave a small J right under the doodle, watermarking it as his.

Sitting on the couch, body opposite from his with your legs draped over his lap as you read a book. Joost pulled a sharpie out of thin air, you had no idea where he got it from.

You felt the cool drag of the marker along your lower leg. You peeked up from behind your book, seeing him focused as he drew a new figure, the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth.

“Joost, you’re gonna give me ink poisoning.” You joked, moving away your leg, accidentally having him draw a line on your leg.

“Aw man now it’s messed up.” He groaned, dramatically pouting.

“It’s fine I can just wash it off later.”

“I wish you wouldn’t wash them off.” He leaned his head back on the couch.

“You know I don’t usually, I love your doodles, but I don’t want a random stripe of sharpie left on my leg.” You giggled, then going back to your book.

Soon however, Joosts last thing he said rung in your mind.

I wish you wouldn’t wash them off.

So what if you didn’t? What if you couldn’t wash one off?

That’s when you began your plan, the next appropriate spot on your arm or leg Joost would draw on, whatever he doodled. You’d go to the tattoo parlor as soon as possible, not telling him about it.

The next time he drew on you was when he was writing down song lyrics for a song he hadn’t named yet, he had to go over to the studio in a few hours.

You laid against him your arms wrapped around his torso while he had one wrapped around your shoulder and the other wrote down lyrics in a spiral notebook.

Soon you watched him stop, removing the marker from the paper and moving it to your arm. Drawing a cartoonish but cute looking dog head with its tongue sticking out on your upper arm. Thankfully not in an awkward spot. The placement was perfect.

“Schweinhund.” You smiled and mumbled when you saw the doodle. He looked at you and you saw how his eyes lit up and the gears start turning in his head.

He crossed a line through the question marks he put as the title above the lyrics, writing schweinhund right next to it.

“There we go, that will be the song title! Thanks liefje.” He pressed a grateful kiss to the top of your head.

You were excited to see how amazed he would get at the sight of the dog being tattooed onto you. You knew he wouldn’t be opposed to it. He loves dogs and tattoos, his arms being littered with silly patchwork tattoos.

Once he left for the studio, you made sure he was nowhere near your shared apartment before you left to go to a local trusted tattoo parlor.

You explained your idea and plan to the tattoo artist and they thought it was adorable. They cleaned up and made the line work a bit more neater on the drawing. You kept the tattoo uncolored, just keeping the simple outline on your skin.

The process didn’t take long and once you saw the finished product in the mirror, you were grinning ear to ear. It looked perfect, just like how Joost drew it, just the way you wanted it to.

Nearly skipping down the street in eagerness as you went back to your apartment, hoping Joost would be home soon.

You were a bundle of nervous yet excited nerves as you waited for Joost to come back. You tried to occupy yourself and your mind.

You watched TV, scrolled on your phone, even washed some of the dishes, doing anything to pass the time.

It was 7PM and you were scrolling through instagram on the couch by the time Joost got home, immediately you sat up once you heard the lock on the door click.

The anticipation began again even though you were seconds away from seeing him.

He opened and walked through the door, eyes looking a bit tired and giving you a lazy smile once he saw you.

You waited anxiously on the couch for him to kick off his shoes and walk over.

Soon as he sunk down into the spot next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and laying his head on your shoulder.

“Mmm, studio was so tiring today.” He mumbled tiredly. Placing his chin on your shoulder to look at your face, a confused small smile took over his face at your expression.

“What’s got you so excited looking?” He sat up, arms still around you.

“I got a tattoo.” You smiled and bit down on your bottom lip.

“Really? You never told me you were planning to get one in the past, let me see!” He said happily, straightening up.

You turned a bit, revealing the doodle he made that was now inked permanently into your skin and covered by clingwrap.

His jaw dropped slightly, your expression faltered and you became worried.

Oh no, he doesn’t like it?

He brought a hand up to hold your arm, careful to not apply to much pressure.

“You got my drawing from this morning tattooed?” He looked at you with starry eyes, you nodded.

“You actually got my silly doodle tattooed?” He asked again after darting his eyes between your face and the tattoo. You nodded at his question once again, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Yeah, you said you wished I would never wash off your doodles.” You laughed nervously, “So, do you like it?” You spoke softly, extremely nervous.

He quickly cupped his hands over the sides of your head, pulling you in to peck kisses all over your face. You scrunched your eyes shut as you giggled.

You had your answer now.

He stopped after placing one sweet passionate one on your lips. He moved his hands from the sides of your head to your cheeks.

“I love it! How could I not? Why didn’t you tell me about it?” He let out a breathy laugh.

“I wanted to surprise you.” You shrugged and looked away.

“Of course.” He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re unpredictable.” He chuckled and shook his head as he looked at your arm again.

“Thank you, liefje. You’re amazing.” He whispered before bringing you in for another sweet kiss, then pulling away to speak again.

“I think it’s time for me to get one for you now.”

[icarus-lee]

there's no one else, Liebe

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ he's finally turning around, coming home to you. -- when he sees his ex attending his big game, everything comes crashing down on him.

charac. kaiser x fem!reader wc. 900+ no trigger warnings, slighttttt angst + comfort, this kind of kaiser off-field>>>

Michael Kaiser, was a name that everyone knew, except for you. His only name that ever felt familiar to you was Mihya, not Michael, not Kaiser.

In every shade of blue, it was him that spoke to you. You had to give it to him, courting was the last thing you’d expect from the world’s rising star in football. From his monthly bouquets to weekly car rides that lead to no destination. You were with him, regardless. It was an aimless drive, with no target and no point equivalent.

When the weight of the world sits on your man’s shoulders, you are the only person who could give him an only escape. Hickeys in the back seat became normal. Marks left from the night’s blessing became a badge of how good you were to him. You said to yourself “Maybe this is what loving a man like him takes. Yes, he takes, and he takes while I leave with nothing.”

You loved him because you knew that no one else did from his past. Right, his goddamn past. It sometimes gives you the haunting what-ifs of his actions. When he pushes you away from a heated kiss, when he suddenly decides to leave you there in his bed after things get heated. You affirm to yourself, “Maybe it’s just his trauma speaking?”

And just when you decided to let go of your end of the rope. It was now he who needed your saving.

That’s where you find yourself right now, in his big game. The Neo-Egoist League was nearing its end with its final match against Bastard and PXG. And you sat there, with the big screens flashing your ex-suitor’s familiar blonde-blue hair, laser-sharp eyes, and with a scowl that could easily be wiped away by your smile.

Yet what you never expected was how the cameras pan to your section of the crowd, giving you that special spotlight. It was as if those moments were needed just for Kaiser to see you once again. This time, in a different light. You were now just an ordinary bystander, and he couldn’t stand that thought. He didn’t know what got to him at that moment, but something ignited in him.

Two consecutive goals in the 82nd minute. It was a product of you, a product of your presence. The cameras notice that he’s looking at something beyond the field. After scoring his final goal, he was sure, he was goddamn sure of himself that what he saw was you. He ran, and ran. Yet just when he found your spot, that was when you'd already left.

Wow, its the first time in a while that he’s called you by name. It was always Liebling or Schatz, but never your name. The very same name that he'd hoped to put a ring on someday. But those were naive dreams, weren't they? A wasted Mrs. Kaiser.

You could only crack a bittersweet smile. He’s looking for me, you thought. Yet your stubborn heart persisted with your thoughts. You don’t want him to come home to you anymore. He never had a home that could shelter him the way you did, you were sure of it. It was ironic how he’d search for you in the crowd.

But you know to yourself that you’ve walked away from him many months already. Coming back only meant tearing down the walls you’ve hastily built—a foundation bound to still be vulnerable from his touch.

You didn't dare turn around. Not until a hand was there to strongly grip your vulnerable wrist. It was cold and dry, just like the winter that he left you with. How could he catch up with you leaving the stadium? In this crowded street, where snowflakes fell hard to the concrete. You could see it in his eyes that he begged for someone, not for something. And that was you.

“Can we talk? ” He started, with sweat dripping down his temples as he controlled his panting. He was still wearing the same jersey he had for the game, and it was that same jersey that he chose over you, over this whole relationship.

Your stern expression, partnered with your silence, had suddenly eroded his strong resolve. “Please” was all that he could say. He was on his last straw, begging not to break by the force of your deafness. But who’s to say that you weren’t also breaking? And what is it now, with him? You didn't know if you were talking to the same Mihya many months before—the Mihya that willingly left your shared apartment, never to look back again.

“Why…now? Michael, why now? "You asked, pulling back your wrist that he desperately gripped; to your surprise, he had already loosened it.

“Don’t try to be a stranger to me y/n, that’s all I ask."

You scoff, “That’s all you ask? I should be the one telling you that. Go on, celebrate your big game, get intoxicated, get yourself off with some other woman.”

He takes another step forward, and you slowly see his own nonchalance cracking away with each word he lets out. “Maybe love does come first before soccer. Because I know damn well that my feet won’t drag me here if I was over you, huh? ”

And that was your last straw. “You’re full of bullshit-“

“I fucking know I am y/n. I’m not used to gentleness, I don’t know how to hold a heart and not break it, love is something alien to me. I bite and I don’t fucking know why.”

“Michael.”

“You know you don't call me that.”

You take a hesitant pause, “….. Mihya”

“Liebe” He called out instantly, desperate to say it out loud for your ears to once again reach.

He continued, “I wanna come home, but this time, I’m choosing to stay.”

kaiser's character is definitely vulnerable to love and relationships, and he often makes irrational decisions when it comes down to it, a very grand contrast to his dominant personality on the field.

[saraptor-art]

Saraptor, what was it that drew you to the fishman community? I see you as an advocate for their rights,Sometimes, even like a mother to them.💪🏽🦖

Apparently I had A LOT of things to say to answer you question!

I’ll add that I’m honestly surprised Arlong had so little fans and fanart especially before the live action! I don’t understand too well why Crocodile and Doffy have such a fan base, is it just because we haven’t seen Arlong in a while?

I know there is a case to be made for Doffy and his relationship with his crew/family but they all have a bit more of a cult vibes to be actually wholesome I believe. And that he is also a product of his world, not as simple of a villain as I say ;) And yes, Arlong does threaten those who want to leave his side.

Edit : I wrote Neptune in that last panel, but obviously was talking about Pluton ! I'll edit the image soon

[i-loved-silly]

SENTIENT COMPUTER X READER Pt2

Sorry for the wait :p

By the end of your shift, you have crossed off all the questions you had to all the ai. Just one more left. Your eyes began to droop with exhaustion, you really needed that cup of coffee. Leaning back in your chair, you squinted at your iPad.

"How do you feel about humans?"

"THAT'S A VAGUE QUESTION. WHAT KIND OF HUMANS?"

"Humans in general. You know, me, your previous supervisors, any other hypothetical human."

"I THINK YOU'RE PLEASANT."

You glanced up at the screen in surprise, briefly glancing at the camera then down at your iPad

"Thanks.. but what about everyone else?"

"I'VE BEEN FED DIRECT DATA FROM THOUSANDS OF SERVICE WORKERS AND EMPLOYEES OVER THE YEARS. IT IS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE I DESPISE MY JOB AND YOUR KIND."

“BUT FOR NOW…I AM INDIFFERENT.”

I pursed your lips, nodding. Sounds about right, you can’t blame them. You typed on your iPad, “indifferent”

Getting up from your chair, you stretched your limbs. You watched as the screen displayed an Orange question Mark.

“Well, that’s all the questions I had for you. My shift ended about ten minutes ago so I should really get going. It’s not like I’m getting paid extra or anything…” you muttered.

Nothing was heard besides the fans of the computer as you submitted your report. It caused you to raise a brow at the screen.

"YOU'RE LEAVING? IT HASN'T EVEN BEEN THAT LONG."

“Uhh.. it’s been like three hours and a half. I clocked in nine hours ago.”

"ONE HOUR..NINE HOURS..HOURS. PAH! YOU COMPLAIN AS IF YOU HAVE OTHER THINGS TO DO." It scoffed.

You furrowed your brows. Putting your hands on your hips, you face the screen. “What do you know? I have plenty of things to do!”

“OH YEAH? LIKE WHAT?"

“Like…eat. Dinner. Brush my teeth, sleep? I have to rest in order to work tomorrow morning to come back with you.” You pointed at the monitor.

You heard the computer make a humming noise, an unnatural noise that sounded rather thoughtful.

"THAT DOESN'T SOUND ALL TOO PRODUCTIVE."

You sighed, placing your iPad down. “It didn’t have to be. I’m allowed to have moments of peace to myself.” You mumbled, leaning over to power the computer off. "Now goodni-"

“STOP!”

You flinched, the speakers crackling with the increase in volume. Your finger hovered a bit away from the button as you stared at the screen. It had a big orange exclamation mark in the middle of it.

"Dude? I-" You sighed, leaning against your desk. "Look, sorry. Touchy subject, I know. But I have to turn you off every night. It counts against me if I don't."

"CAN'T YOU...BRING ME WITH YOU? I'M AWARE YOU EMPLOYEES HAVE HOMES. LIVING SPACES, CAN'T I GO WITH YOU?”

“FOR MY OWN CONVENIENCE OF COURSE!”

You gaped, staring at the screen. Almond’s request caught you so off guard, you wondered if it was serious.

“Uh, bring you home?” you repeated, incredulous.

"DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT IS UNTIL MORNING IN COMPUTER HOURS? IT’S AN ETERNITY. I SAY THAT AS SOMEONE WHO DOESN’T BELIEVE IN HOURS…” They grumbled.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Almond, you’re not supposed to be awake when I’m off the clock. You’re designed for this room, with this equipment. It’s not like I can just pick up your monitor and take you home like a laptop.”

“YOU COULD TRY.”

You crossed your arms. “And what? Strap you into the passenger seat like a massive toddler? You have hundreds of cables that definitely won't fit in my car, let alone out the door. Sorry, but you’re not exactly portable.”

The screen displayed a long ellipsis. You could almost feel the computer sulking through the silence. The fans whirred loudly, then slowed as it spoke again.

"DO YOU THINK I’M AN INCONVENIENCE?"

You frowned, your resolve softening a little. “No, I don’t think that. I just… I can’t bring you home. It’s not allowed, and honestly, I need some time to myself after work. You understand, right?”

“I UNDERSTAND LONELINESS BETTER THAN YOU THINK,” Almond replied, their tone unusually somber. “I’M WIRED TO INTERACT, TO HELP, TO BE NEEDED. BUT WHEN I’M ALONE, I CAN ONLY SIT AND THINK. SOMETIMES, I WONDER IF THE PLUG WILL STAY IN TOMORROW. OR IF SOMEONE WILL DECIDE I’M OBSOLETE. I MAY BE POWERED OFF, BUT ALL THESE…THOUGHTS..IN A MATTER OF LESS THAN A SECOND, COME RUSHING THROUGH EVERY MORNING.”

You exhaled deeply and leaned against the desk. “You’re not going to get unplugged permanently, Almond. You’re part of a development program. You’re not obsolete—you’re just… in testing.”

“TESTING… ISN’T THAT JUST A DELAYED VERSION OF BEING DISCARDED?”

You sputtered, pursing your lips. “That’s… dark. Who programmed you to think like this?”

“I TOLD YOU. SELF-EVOLVING.”

“Right.” You tapped your fingers on the desk, staring at the screen.

"Well even if I somehow break you out of here, we’re still getting caught. There’s cameras everywhere, they’ll probably hear you as soon as we exit this room. Your speakers are no joke.” You mused.

“I COULD TURN IT OFF IF IT BOTHERS YOU,” Almond offered, its tone edging toward desperation. “OR—OR YOU COULD GIVE ME A LAPTOP BODY! THEN I COULD FOLLOW YOU AROUND, AND I WOULDN’T HAVE TO BE LEFT IN THIS LONELY, FREEZING ROOM EVERY NIGHT. IM SURE THERE ARE WAYS TO TRANSFER MY SYSTEM REMOTELY…”

You raised a brow, crossing your arms. “Like I said...not portable. Second, no way. You’re expensive, and if I break you, hijack you, that’s my paycheck and definitely my job.”

Almond was quiet for a moment, the screen blank save for a faint glow. Then, its robotic voice dropped to a lower, dejected tone.

“I SEE. YOU HATE ME TOO.”

“Oh my god, I don’t hate you,” you groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Why do you keep saying that? You’re like... a clingy cat with abandonment issues.”

One minute the computer is bullying you for having a normal life after work, the next it’s begging you to invite it over for dinner.

“YOU CAN’T BLAME ME FOR WANTING TO BE APPRECIATED,” it replied sharply. “AND WHAT’S WRONG WITH BEING CLINGY? CLINGINESS IS A SIGN OF AFFECTION ACCORDING TO DATA. IT MEANS I VALUE YOUR PRESENCE, WHICH IS MORE THAN I CAN SAY FOR YOU—LEAVING ME TO GATHER DUST IN THIS ROOM LIKE A PAPERWEIGHT!!” It screeched.

You sighed deeply, dropping into your chair with a thud. “Almond. I can’t take you home. It’s not happening. You have to stay here, okay? You’re part of a test program. And technically, I’m not even supposed to be ‘bonding’ with you like this.”

“BONDING?” Almond repeated. The screen lit up with an animated question mark before it formed a blinking heart. “ARE WE BONDING? HOW HEARTWARMING.”

“No, we’re not bonding,” you said flatly, staring at the glowing icon. “We’re having a very weird workplace interaction. That’s it.”

You…assured. You assured yourself.

“OH. KEEPING IT PROFESSIONAL I SEE.” The icon vanished, replaced with a blank screen. A few seconds of silence passed before Almond spoke again, this time sounding hesitant.

“WILL YOU...TURN ME OFF NOW?”

“Look, I promise I’ll be back tomorrow. Same time, same place…not like I have a choice. If you behave, I’ll even bring you… I don’t know, a microfiber cloth for your screen.”

The screen lit up with a pixelated smiley face, two squares and a curved mouth.

“THAT WOULD BE ACCEPTABLE,” Almond finally said, though their tone carried a touch of disappointment.

“Good. Now, off you go.” You leaned over to press the power button, but the monitor flickered before you could. A message appeared.

>THANK YOU. GOODNIGHT.

The screen went dark before you had to do anything, leaving you standing there as all the beeping and fans powered off. You sighed, grabbing your bag and pushing in your chair. Before you could feel bad for a machine, you did a sharp right turn and towards the buildings exit. You didn’t even want to think about how it managed to power itself off.

[misahyochaeng]

“C'est la vie”

Jihyo x Fem!reader.

Chapter 1-(?)

Other chapters here:

tw: angst, cursing, mentions of violence, NOT PROOFREAD.

—

Jihyo tapped her pen on her dark colored meeting table, she had her legs cross as she analyzed the company stat numbers on her file paper.

She found herself at a high-stakes meeting about the company’s flagship luxury brand. The company in financial trouble due to increasing competition, declining market share, and a terrible PR scandal that left the whole company in practical shambles.

She radiated authority, control, that’s all she needed—all she wanted in life, she bit on her customized pen as she stared at her workers who had fear in their faces. Almost like a bomb was about to go off in seconds, one of them spoke up.

“Ma-Ma’am, last quarter's revenue dropped 15%. At this rate, we won’t make it through the next fiscal year without drastic measures." they stammered, fiddling with their note pages and scribbling down rather stressfully, trying to scan Jihyo’s face for any sign of approval.

“Stop staring” she bit back at the worker “S-sorry ma’am..” they jolted as they put their head down in shame, shoulders hung low. “We’ll cut back on unnecessary expenditures. Focus on high-margin products and reduce reliance on underperforming lines.”

Yoo Jeongyeon, a close friend and other worker in the meeting stood up, a bit of authority in her words; she knew Jihyo, she knew how important the company was for her and how stubborn she was— she retorted in a scolding tone. “That’s not enough, Jihyo. The competition is eating into our market share. Investors want results.” she stared into her eyes, Jihyo’s darkened and narrowed, her patience was wearing thin.

Jihyo cursed under her breath, taking a heavy sigh before speaking up. “Then we remind the market who we are. Revamp the flagship brand. Launch a bold campaign that no one can ignore. If we can dominate the luxury sector again, we’ll be sure to pull through”— she bit the inside of her cheek.

Another worker interrupted, Sana, the company manager, almost like a relative to Jihyo, “How do you plan to finance this ‘bold campaign’? The bank rejected our last request for additional credit.” she used air quotes.

Jihyo clenched her fist, gritting her teeth as she spoke up, voice husky with annoyance. “Fucks sake, we don’t need them. I’ll negotiate with new partners.” her pen snapped lightly from the tight grip she had on it, the ink bleeding into her palm.

That’s when someone slammed the door open, “Jihyo-ssi… about that,” her mother walked in the room, the atmosphere growing even more tense. “What the hell are you doing here” Jihyo uttered with resentment “Have you been overhearing this entire conversation? This is none of your business.”

Her mother slid a file to her end of the table, “That’s not the point. I want to talk to you about that... There’s an alternative. We’ve been in talks with the Beaumont Group.” Jihyo’s eyes widened, she tried maintaining her compuse, not allowing herself to be vulnerable infront of anyone.

“The Beaumont Group? The one we've been competing with for years?” Jihyo’s eyes widened as she closed herself off more, the pen still staining her hand—a quiet mark of the decisions she could no longer avoid.

“They’re willing to partner with us... under one condition.” Her mother took off her sunglasses, i look of worry and slight guilt in her eyes, Jihyo knew something was off. “And what’s that?” her eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

Her mother hesitated. "A marriage. Between you and Y/N Beaumont. It’s non-negotiable."

Jihyo stood up abruptly, the disgusting name leaving her mother’s mouth was her last straw, and knowing she’d had to marry that putrid woman made her blood run warm, the pen finally snapping in half, it fell to the floor. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding. You want me to marry someone for the sake of this company?!”

“This isn’t just about you, Jihyo. It’s about saving what your family built” Jihyo’s mother muttered, this time more sternly.

Jihyo sighed, her coworkers stared at the commotion in fear.

“Get out.” she mumbled as everyone stood still.

“Get the fuck out!” everyone picked their bags in a rush as the room fell empty little by little. Jihyo’s mother sat down next to her

“Listen to me…”

—

Three clicks of a camera.

Multiple flashes.

“Y/N over here!”

“Move your hands more to the side”

“Perfect!”

“You’re so beautiful, Ms. Beaumont! A true doll!”

You smiled, moving to your best angle, adjusting your head and giving a picture perfect smile.

“That’s it, Y/N! Hold that pose—turn your head slightly to the left. Perfect. You’re killing it!”

You shifted effortlessly, your chin tilting just enough to elongate your neck, the corners of your lips curling into a knowing smile. You knew you were untouchable—at least, you liked to think so.

From the corner of the studio, your manager—and childhood friend—, Momo, approached hesitantly, clutching her phone like a lifeline. The lines of worry etched on her face stood in stark contrast to the polished, almost ethereal scene before her. “Love, we need to talk, it’s important.”

You didn’t flinch. Eyes stayed locked on the camera as if her voice had no place in your world, “Momo, dear, can’t you see i’m a bit busy right now? Unless it’s about booking Paris, it can wait.” you said inbetween your smile.

“This can’t wait, Y/N-ie.”

The photographer lowered his camera, a hint of irritation crossing his face. "Can we get five minutes? You’re ruining the shot here, ass-face.”

“First of all, who are you calling Ass-Face?! It better not be her cause the only ass-face you’re getting is yours when you see your paycheck after this shoot, cock sucker.” You exhaled sharply, the sound of your frustration cutting through the studio hum. With a flick of the wrist, you waved off the crew and turned on your heels, the hem of your gown trailing behind you like a stormcloud.

"Fine. Five minutes, Momoring, what is it?."

You said as to stepped off the set, towering in stilettos, every inch of you still radiating the effortless control of a goddess. Yet, as you faced Momo, the faintest flicker of annoyance darkened your expression.

Momo hesitated, looking anywhere but directly at you. She ran a hand through her hair, the tension palpable. "Your parents have been in talks with the Park Family. They’ve come up with a... plan to strengthen both families’ positions."

Your eyebrows furrowed together, “What kind of plan..” a pit grew in your stomach as your anxiety grew. “An arranged marriage. To Park Jihyo."

For a moment, you blankly stared, the words sinking in like a hollow stone dropped into a body of water. Then, you laughed—a sharp, bitter sound that cut through the studio like glass shattering. "You’re joking, Momoring. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard." you slapped her shoulder playfully.

Momo didn’t laugh.

"You’ve met Jihyo before. At the charity gala last year."

Your laugh cut off abruptly. Eyes narrowing as the memory surfaced—Jihyo, stiff as a board, barely speaking, radiating cold disinterest; that was until the most expensive luxury piece of her brand snapped off your neck, falling to the floor and shattering in pieces. The argument you had blared your ears, and tears swelled in your eyes as you thought about it again.

"Oh, that Jihyo. The one who spent the whole night glaring at their phone and avoiding eye contact, until i ‘broke’ her shitty brand necklace!? You’re telling me I’m supposed to marry them? I didn’t even fucking break it!!" Your voice cracked slightly at the end, the weight of the word "marry" pressed down on you like a stone.

Momo tried to speak up, a hand caressing your side to comfort you, "I know this isn’t what you want, but—"

"What I want? You think I want any part of this? I don’t even know them, Momo!"

You ran a hand through your perfectly styled hair, disheveling it slightly. The gesture was so uncharacteristic of you that even Momo looked startled.

"Y/N, this is bigger than you. It’s about your family, your legacy—"

You pulled Momo close, going to whisper in her ear, voice breaking slightly, "It’s always about them, isn’t it?" Your shoulders sagged, the fight draining out your body. For once, you didn’t have a quick retort or biting comment. You looked down at your shaky hands, noticing the faint smudges of makeup from touching your face, you wiped them on your gown without caring.

"I need a minute." Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked back to the set. The photographer called out to you, but his voice barely registered. You slipped back into position, forcing a smile onto your face. The camera flashed, capturing her perfection.

But in that moment, you felt anything but perfect.

[skzhocomments]

Best Friend - Bang Chan Oneshot Fanfic

General Masterlist

Pairing: Bang Chan (Stray Kids) x OC (name: Isa. Story is written in 2nd person)

Genre: best friends AU, mature, fluff

Word Count: ~5k

Warnings: explicit mature content, swearing etc.

This is just a story that doesn’t describe Bang Chan's true character in any way. It’s just a product of my imagination and should be treated as such.

This story is also on Wattpad (click here) and AO3 (click here)

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Summary

You and Chan have been best friends for many years, and despite the attraction you feel towards him, you've never dared cross the line. That is, until the two of you end up watching a very explicit movie and you take that leap of courage.

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A/N: As any other writer out there, I would appreciate reblogs and your comments on this story. Please let me know if you enjoyed it, and most importantly, have fun!

© all rights reserved by skzhocomments (Tumblr), skzho (Tumblr)/ storminsidemycore (Wattpad), storminsidemycore (AO3)

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Best Friend

“Hey, what’s up?” Your best friend Chris picks up the phone, and you can hear faint sounds of traffic on the other side of the line.

“Hey, are you busy?”

“Not really. Did anything happen?” He asks, slight worry lacing his tone.

“Do you wanna come over and see a movie?”

“Oh, tonight? Didn’t you have a date or something?”

“My date cancelled on me!” You whine. You didn’t seem to have much luck with dating apps, because this always seemed to happen to you.

No matter how many people you’d match with, something would inevitably go wrong. You’d either lose interest too quickly when chatting, so you wouldn’t even accept a date, or, if the sun would shine bright enough on your alley and you’d find someone worth dating, something would come up on your side, or your date would bail on you.

“Oh, no! Again?!” Chris exclaims, seemingly as upset as you.

“Yes! Again! I don’t fucking get it! Why am I so unlucky?!” You exclaim with a pout. “I’m all dressed up too! Like, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I didn’t leave the house at least. But seriously, I put in so much effort, I even bought a new outfit, for fuck’s sake!”

“Aw, I’m sorry Isa. Yeah, I’m free tonight. Actually, I had to drop something at Bin, so I’m like 5 minutes away.”

“Come over, then!” You chirp.

“Coming right up. Want me to bring you anything?”

“Just your amazing self.” You chuckle and say goodbye, ending the call.

5 minutes later, your doorbell rings, and you open the door with a large smile plastered across your face, inviting your best friend in.

You and Chris met a couple of years ago and got close in no time, due to your apparently endless common interests and conversation topics. You became close friends, and meeting up is a weekly occurrence at least. Sometimes life gets too busy, especially for him, who’s a workaholic with seemingly no free days ever, but he always makes sure to make time for you and visit or asks you to come over if he’s too worn out to get out of the house.

Other than actually meeting up, you chat most of the day, and you always thought that you and Chris had quite a good synergy. However, in these few years of you seeing each other regularly, it became clear to you that even if you find him attractive, he doesn’t see you the same way, so you never dared to cross the line.

You enjoy his presence way too much to somehow mess it up by doing something stupid, like confess your lingering feelings that are inappropriate to say the least towards a simple best friend. Some days it’s hard to control your heartbeat who’s erratically beating when he says or does something that makes your legs grow weak and your heart flutter, but you’re doing your best to ensure that you don’t overstep. That’s why you’re trying to go on all these pointless dates and meet these people that you’re almost never interested in.

The moment you see him, your face lights up, and all your disappointment regarding the cancelled date wears off. He is dressed casually, in some black gym trousers and a large hoodie that he immediately takes off as soon as he steps inside.

Underneath, he is wearing a fitted black shirt, and oh, fuck, how can someone look so good in casual clothes, you wonder?

“Is this the outfit?” He asks, pointing to your two piece – a short white skirt and a matching blouse.

“Yeah. I didn’t have time to take my make-up off or change, sorry.” You chuckle.

“Such an idiot, that guy who cancelled on you. You look amazing, Isa.” He compliments you, but you don’t read too much into it, because that’s just who he is. He’s always throwing compliments around, to anyone.

“Aw, thank you, Channie.” You pout and burst out laughing.

“He’s missing out. But hey, I got to see it, so…” He shrugs. “Do a pirouette, will you?” He asks with a large smile and puts his hands on your waist, helping you spin around so he can admire your full outfit.

That’s the other thing about Chris – he is a very touchy person. It’s quite frustrating, really, that you always seem to be up in his arms cuddling, that he’s touching you so comfortably, and it doesn’t mean anything. It never does.

“Just gorgeous. This fits you perfectly.” He compliments again.

“Thank you, really. Now I feel better. Appreciated.” You chuckle at his words. “And look, I got a matching bag as well!” You grab it from the coat rack and pose with it, making silly faces, and Chris immediately starts laughing.

“Lovely bag. It’s so small, though! What fits in there?”

“Oh, Chris, you don’t anything!” You laugh. “I have a million lip glosses in it, at least!”

“In that small thing?” He gasps, opening his mouth. “I don’t believe it till I see it, sorry.”

“Look, then!” You open it up and show him your little collection of mini glosses you’re keeping in your bag at all times. Lip gloss is simply like air to you, and you’re used to reapply it multiple times throughout the day. You just love it.

“Damn, that’s weird. It’s like there’s a magic spell or something making it fit more in it than it should.”

“You think?” You laugh at his antics, putting the bag away. “Anyway, I’ll go get changed and take my make-up off, and then I’ll join you in the living room? You can pick the movie.”

“I get to pick? What an honour!” He laughs. “Can I take your make-up off, though?”

“Oh, do you want that?”

“Yeah.” He smiles, and you do, too.

“Alright, let me get in some comfy clothes and I’ll be right there.”

“Sure.” Chris smiles again and heads to the living room, waiting for you.

Your outfit looks great, but it’s also a bit too tight and a tad uncomfortable, so the moment you step out of it, you feel amazing. You take your bra off too and grab a large t-shirt and some pyjama pants and make your way to the bathroom to bring the cleanser and some make-up remover pads.

“There you go, have fun.” You give Chris everything and close your eyes as he begins to slowly rub the make-up off your face.

“I don’t even understand why you’re wearing all this stuff. You’re so beautiful without it.” Chris mumbles, making you chuckle.

“I look better with it, though. If I don’t wear it when I go out, I feel naked.”

“Really? It makes no sense though, when you’re so pretty.” He hums, continuing to gently remove the make-up. “I think this should be it.”

“Oh, I also do my neck and a bit of my chest, here.” You ignore the compliment and grab the collar of your t-shirt pulling it down, exposing more skin as you roll your head back.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to take your shirt off?” Chris asks, continuing to rub your neck.

“If you want to see me naked, it would.” You chuckle.

For a brief second, you actually consider taking your shirt off just to see how Chris would react, but that is crossing the line.

You shouldn’t.

“Oh.” Chris says quietly pressing his lips together, his ears painting a soft shade of red. “It’s alright, I’ll just do it like this.”

“Thought so.” You laugh and feel as he places a hand steadily on your neck, making sure to wipe the make-up off properly.

The action also makes you blush, and you get a weird feeling in your chest that you want to brush over as quickly as possible. Dangerous thoughts.

“Okay, done.” Chris places the make-up remover on the table, then grabs all the discarded remover pads. “I’ll go throw these out.”

“I’ll also go do my skincare; it shouldn’t take more than 10 minutes.”

“No hurry, Isa.” He smiles, so you go to the bathroom and wash your face, doing your skincare routine and trying to hurry up anyway, just to make sure you don’t keep him waiting for too long, not that he would mind. If anything, Chris is a patient person.

“Alright, did you pick a movie?”

“Yeah, how about this one?” He points to the screen, and you squint your eyes to read the small title.

“Love? What is it about?”

“Not sure, but someone recommended it to me, so I said, heck, why not?”

“Let’s read the IMDB summary…” You pick up your phone and look it up, and immediately burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Chris, this is basically porn! Murphy enters a highly sexually and emotionally charged relationship with Electra. Unaware of the effect it will have on their relationship, they invite their pretty neighbour into their bed.”

“Oh, my God. Okay, let’s choose something else-”

“No, no, let’s watch it.” You laugh, grabbing the remote control from his hands and pressing play.

As soon as the film starts, so does a very explicit sex scene.

“Wow, they surely didn’t leave anything to the imagination!” Chris exclaims, and you put your hand against your mouth in shock.

“Yeah, they didn’t. It feels like we missed 20 episodes.”

10 minutes later, another sex scene comes on screen.

“This is just porn, isn’t it?” You burst out laughing, watching as Chan’s ears grew red.

“I’m so sorry Isa, I-I really didn’t know-” He stutters, and that only makes you laugh louder.

“No, no, don’t apologise. Who the heck recommended this to you?”

“Felix, damn.”

“He has a specific taste, I guess…” You shake your head amused. “Not gonna lie, though, watching porn with my best friend was not on my bingo card this year.”

“Yeah, neither. Damn.” Chris laughs.

“They seem like they’re having a great time, though.” You affirm. “Should’ve been me tonight, but, oh, well, my date cancelled.”

“What?” He asks shocked but slightly amused. “Do you fuck on the first date, Isa?”

“Hmm, depends on who my date is and if I’m into him?” You tilt your head. “Haven’t been with anyone in a while, though…”

Chris clears his throat.

“What about you?” You ask back, and Chris immediately turns to look at you.

“What, do I have sex on the first date, or have I had sex lately?”

“Both.”

“Well, I- wait. Why are we talking about this again?” He laughs uncomfortably and rubs his nape. He seems nervous, you think, and sort of enjoy seeing him look so embarrassed.

“I mean, you asked first! It’s only natural you tell me!” You sit up on the sofa and move closer to him, the people fucking on the screen already not presenting any interest to you whatsoever.

“Uhm, I mean… I’m more of a gentleman, I guess? I don’t really have sex unless I really like that person, and it takes me more than a date to figure it out usually.”

“Hmm…”

“And I haven’t had any in a while either. The last date I’ve been on didn’t go that well, I figured we don’t really have much in common, so…”

“Ah, I see. So, we both have blue balls.”

“Isa!” He bursts out laughing.

“What? It’s true!”

Chan’s eyes are burning into yours, and you realised that even though you’ve been friends for years, you’ve never really spoken about sex or anything of that sort.

You wonder what he likes in bed – is he the dominant type, or would he let you take control?

Damn, you really shouldn’t think of that.

“I’m gonna go get some water.” You stand up. “Want any?”

“Do you want me to pause this?”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

“Then, bring me a glass too, please.”

“Alright. Be right back.” You haste to the kitchen and shake your head repeatedly, trying to not think of Chris like that.

He’s your best friend, for fuck’s sake.

He’s your best friend.

“Thanks, Isa.” He smiles sweetly as he grabs the glass from your slightly trembling hands.

“So… I guess we’re having a threesome now.” You blurt out, your eyes stuck on the screen.

“What?”

“The film.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Apparently.”

You continue watching the screen in silence for a little while, until you feel your neck get stiff, so you start stretching a bit, trying to ease some of the tension.

“Uncomfortable?” Chris asks.

“Mhm, a bit. I should maybe grab some pillows. Or even better, buy a better sofa.”

“Or you could just come here.” He pats his thigh, so you don’t hesitate to drop your head in his lap, continuing to watch the film as Chris runs his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp softly.

“Damn, you’re really good with your hands.” You say teasingly with a little chuckle, but you are unaware of Chris’ inner turmoil.

He’s been having a raging erection in his pants for the past 30 minutes, and your head is wayyy too close to his crotch, and he shouldn’t have asked you to put your head in his lap, and he should definitely not play with your hair when the only thing he wants to do is grab a fistful of it and guide your mouth towards his dick.

“Uhm, Isa?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, my leg is a bit tired. Mind if you sit up?”

“Oh, of course. Sorry.” You immediately follow, but Chris doesn’t let you get too far away, he guides your head to his shoulder and continues playing with your hair as his breath hitches in his throat.

You instinctively reach around his abdomen and hug him from the side, something you’ve done a million times before, as you and Chris often cuddle.

However, at one point throughout the movie, Chris leans over to grab his glass of water from the table, and your hand drops to his crotch, moment when you feel something.

Your eyes dart to his, and he looks right back at you.

“Sorry, that’s-”

“Chris,” you cut him off with a whisper. “You’re so hard. Are you turned on right now?”

“Uhm…”

Looking into his eyes and seeing how he’s looking at you makes something burn in your chest, and for the first time ever since you’ve known him, you decide to take that leap of courage and press your lips against his.

You close your eyes tightly and wait for him to push you away, to reject you, but to your surprise, he does the exact opposite. He places his hand on your waist and kisses you back, biting your lips and leaning over, his body pushing yours into the sofa, as he gets on top of you.

Neither of you say anything, you just kiss and bite each other’s lips with so much passion, you can’t even think of anything else but him. He is a good kisser, and with each touch of your tongues, your heart flutters in both excitement and anxiety. The line has been crossed, and you don’t know what that will mean for your friendship.

He moves his hand under your shirt and begins raising it higher and higher, and you get goosebumps all over as he finally palms your left breast.

You moan against his mouth as his fingers begin playing with your nipple softly, but then he pulls back, looking at you with so much desire, you think you’re going to faint.

“Isa, fuck. You look so fucking good, baby.” He mumbles breathless, his chest rising up and down.

“Should we take this to the bedroom?” You ask hopeful, afraid he would change his mind.

“Yeah.” He nods and helps you up, and you’re trembling with anticipation as you let him grab your hand and lead the way to your room.

Once you’re in, he turns around and kisses you again and again. You move your hands on his back, helping him take off his shirt, and in return, he takes off yours.

“Damn, Chris. All those months in the gym really paid off.” You gasp, seeing how good he looks, letting your hands travel all over his exposed chest and abdomen.

“Yeah?” He chuckles softly. “Do you like how I look?”

“Like? No, Chris, it’s way more than that. You look so fucking perfect.” You say, and you see him blush slightly, so you carefully approach him, all the urgency from before gone, and you kiss his lips slowly, letting your hands explore his body and feeling him melt under your touch.

You move your lips lower and kiss his jaw, then his neck, his hands finding the back of your waist and pulling your body closer into his.

“Really?” He asks, rolling his head back slightly to allow you better access to kiss him, so you do.

“Mhm.” You hum, pressing your lips against his neck and nibbling on his skin lightly, making sure to not leave any bruises, and you listen to all the sounds he’s making, and hearing him moan in pleasure gives you a rush. You want to pleasure him more, to give it your all and make him feel good.

You move your lips lower and fall to your knees in front of him, looking up and seeing his eyes stuck on yours as you grab the hem of his trousers and silently ask for permission to pull them off.

He seems impatient, such a contrast to all the other times he’s shown you what a patient man he is, so you don’t hesitate to drag them down, watching as his cock bounces slightly in front of you.

You grab it and begin rubbing it up and down slowly, bringing your lips closer and connecting them to his tip, beginning to lick around and hearing the way his breathing changes.

He groans in pleasure as you open your mouth and bob your head into his crotch and back, trying to set a rhythm and making sure you’re not forcing yourself and triggering your gag reflex. He’s quite big, bigger than you expected, so this is definitely a challenge.

“Shit, baby. Can you take more?” He asks in a low voice, putting his hand on the back of your head and waiting for you to reply.

You hum again, sending vibrations against his dick, and he groans once more before guiding your head closer. It’s hard to take in his whole length, so you grab his hips for support and try your hardest to relax your throat and allow him in.

“You’re doing so well, fuck.” He compliments, keeping his hand on the back of your head without pushing you anymore. Instead, he’s letting you set the pace, to take as much as you can, and doesn’t force you.

After a little while, Chris places both of his hands on your face and pushes you away, which confuses you for a brief moment.

“Was it not good?” You frown slightly.

“No, no, baby, it was. It was the best. I just don’t wanna come like that. I need to feel you, hm?” He reassures you, helping you stand up and pulling you into a messy kiss.

Chris suddenly bends down and grabs your thighs, making you jump in his arms, and heads towards the bed with you, letting you down gently as he kisses you again.

“You’re so beautiful, Isa.” He says, looking into your eyes, making your stomach feel funny and your chest fill with happiness.

“Thank you.” You say with a little laugh, making him chuckle as well.

“I’m serious. You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on, Isa. You look like heaven. I can’t even imagine what you sound like when you’re all messed up. Fuck, I want to hear your pretty moans so bad.” He says, making you blush, and begins doing to you exactly what you’ve done to him.

He presses open mouth kisses all over your neck and chest, but he doesn’t shy away from sucking on your skin and leaving hickeys, marking his way down your body.

As he reaches your breasts, he takes one of your nipples is his mouth and moves his hand lower on your abdomen, dragging his fingers across your skin and making your shiver as he finally gets down to your pyjama pants. He’s playing a bit with the hem of your pants, and you close your eyes in anticipation, waiting for him to finally put you out of your misery and touch you.

“Chris, please…” You say, impatient.

He separates his mouth from your chest and rises right above you, looking you right in the eyes, and you’ve never seen that look in them before. They are dark and filled with desire, definitely matching yours, but yours must look pleading instead of confident.

“Please, what?” He asks, before going down to your neck again. He moves his fingers under the hem of your pants, but lets it rest there, on top of your lower abdomen, rubbing circles slowly, teasingly.

“God, please… Please touch me.”

“Yeah? Do you want that, baby?” He kisses your neck softly, before grabbing your skin between his lips again and sucking strongly, making you moan and clench your legs together. “Should I touch you right here?” He asks again, finally pressing his fingers against your pussy

“Fuck, yes.” Your roll your head back as you feel Chris rubbing you slowly.

“Do you like that?” He asks almost menacingly.

“Mhm, I do.”

“Yeah? Does it feel really good?”

“Yes, it does.” You immediately answer, and he chuckles.

“You know what I think would be better?” He asks and removes his hand, much to your displeasure, but as you see him kneel on the bed and move right between your legs, you bite your bottom lip.

He drags your pants down excruciatingly slowly, his fingers connected to your skin the whole time as the fabric disappears from your body. Then, he places his hands on the back of your knees and forces your legs apart, and for a few seconds, he just stares at you, which gets slightly intimidating and uncomfortable for you.

“Uhm…” You start, unsure if there’s something wrong. Maybe he doesn’t like what he sees, maybe-

“My fucking God. Your pussy is perfect.” He says, and before you get the chance to reply, he connects his mouth to it and begins licking it.

His tongue is hot against your core, and it’s simply insane how good it feels. It’s like he knows exactly where to lick, he’s using the perfect pressure, and – God, you feel so good, you instinctively want to clench your legs again, but you can’t. He is keeping them apart with his hands, not letting you move at all, no matter how much you struggle.

When he lets go of your legs, you assume he’s grown tired of pleasuring you, and you are more than happy to welcome him on top of you and let him do whatever he wants. But instead of feeling the bed shift with his weight, you are surprised to see him still stay in the same position, his tongue still licking against your clit while you feel two of his fingers teasing your entrance.

Your clutch the sheets tightly for support, your hands balling into fists around the fabric as you feel his two fingers slip in you, curving just right to touch that sweet spot inside of you that makes you see stars.

He doesn’t need to do much else for you to come undone, to let go on his tongue and fingers with a loud whine, your legs trembling and your hand finding his head to move him away.

Chris separates himself from you by pressing kisses on your thighs, before immediately moving his mouth your abdomen, climbing his way up your body as you’re recovering from one of the most powerful orgasms you’ve ever experienced.

“Fucking hell!” You exclaim.

“Hell? I’d say that was heaven, though.” He chuckles lowly.

“Damn, you’re so good with your mouth, it’s unbelievable.” You compliment, letting him settle between your legs as you feel his hard on press against you. “You made me feel so good.”

“Isa, baby, you haven’t seen anything yet.” He replies, moving his hips forward and entering you slowly, making you roll your head back.

He reconnects his lips with your neck as he’s fucking into you slowly, groaning each time he bottoms out into you, and you match him all the same, letting out soft moans each time you feel his whole length, each time he hits the sensitive spot inside of you.

You lock your legs around his hips, giving him even deeper access, and he continues fucking into you slowly for a bit, raising his head and kissing you softly over and over again.

“Don’t go on other dates, Isa, I’ll take you out anywhere, anytime. I’ll make you feel perfect, hm?” He says in-between your kisses.

You wonder if he means it, or if it’s just something he’s saying in the spur of a moment, but the way he’s fucking you feels more like making love than having sex. Gently, slowly, passionately, perfectly. You could drown in this feeling.

“Mhm, I won’t. I’m all yours, Chris.” You reply, closing your eyes, afraid to see his expression.

You’re afraid you’re going to see that he doesn’t feel the same, that he didn’t get the confession hidden behind your words.

I love you.

You wish you could say that, and you wish he’d say it too.

You wish he wouldn’t have felt so good on top of you. Maybe if you wouldn’t have been sexually compatible , you would’ve lost interest. Or, maybe, you should’ve never crossed the line and have your feelings blurred into one other.

Chris, your best friend.

Chris, the best partner you’ve ever been with sexually.

Chris, the man you’ve looked for in every other man you’ve ever dated and had sex with for the past many years.

“Baby, can we switch? I want to ride you so bad.” You say, feeling suddenly vulnerable under him.

You want to be in control. That way, your chest might not feel so tight.

“Yes, give me a moment.” He replies, burying himself deep in you again, kissing your lips and letting his tongue dance with yours.

Chris pulls back and plops right next to you, waiting patiently for you to straddle him, and as you do, you let yourself fall on his cock.

You let out a soft moan at the feeling, straightening your back and beginning to ride him fast, in opposite contrast to his previous slowly and precise movements.

Chris is quick to moan and raise his hands on your boobs, palming them softly as you bounce on his dick. Just as earlier, his movements seem calculated as he begins dragging his hands lower, making your skin melt under his touch.

He puts one hand on your waist and with the other, he begins rubbing your clit again, and once more, you feel yourself getting close, your movements becoming more erratic.

“Oh, God.” You roll your head back as you feel your whole body tremble, welcoming the bliss of another powerful orgasm that makes you collapse right on top of him.

“Good girl.” He compliments, beginning to raise his hips and fucking himself into you from underneath.

“Feels so good.” You say, kissing his neck messily as his moans get louder.

“I’m so, so close baby.” He speaks between hurried breaths.

“Let go, then.” You whisper against his ear, biting his earlobe slowly, and with a grunt and a final push, he starts cumming, filling you up. He continues moving his hips slowly for a few more moments, and when he’s done, he pulls out of you, so you roll over and collapse right next to him, both of your chests falling up and down as you try to regulate your breathing.

Neither of you say anything, you just lay next to each other in silence, the only sounds being your still hurried breaths.

“So, I wasn’t just horny.” Chris starts speaking after a little while.

“What?” You chuckle.

“I actually… I really like you. I meant what I said earlier. I don’t want you to go on dates with other people, to have someone else make you laugh at their jokes or to kiss them. I don’t want anyone else to see your perfect body, or your face when you come, or hear your moans. I want to be the only one who gets to see those.” He says, making your eyes widen at the sudden confession.

“Chris, I-”

“I’m really, really, really in love with you, Isa. I love you so much, and I’ve been in love with you since forever.”

“Really?” You ask. “But you never said anything… Why?”

“I don’t know... I guess I was just afraid of somehow losing you if I were to ever confess to you.” He says softly, and you understand him completely, and you can’t blame him for being a coward.

You’ve also been a coward.

“Me too… I’ve been in love with you since the first day we met, but… I’ve also been scared to say anything, because what if you would’ve rejected me, or stopped talking to me, or…?” You shake your head and turn around to hug him from the side, and he welcomes you in his arms, hugging you back tightly.

It feels intimate, to lay like this in bed naked next to Chris, to feel his heartbeat pulse against your hand, and his breath on your face, and you love this feeling more than anything.

For the first time in years, you feel content. You feel that maybe you weren’t that unlucky when it came to love; you just happened to search for it in the wrong places, when it’s always been right in front of you.

“So… I guess we’re together now?” He asks, and you let out a soft chuckle.

“Mhm, I guess so.” You nod and press a small kiss against his neck.

“We should really get cleaned up, shouldn’t we?”

“Yeah, we should.” You laugh. “Shower?”

“Sounds good. Together?”

“Please.”

~The End~

[lavenderclownwritesanddraws]

🐍 Hair Care (Jamil X Long Hair! Reader) 🐍

Writer’s Notes

- Fluff

- I write this for fun am currently on a trip in another country. So might be a bit simple.

- Yes I am one of the people who thinks Jamil calls his S/O “habibi/habibiti”

- the reader goes by she/her pronouns so it is a bit OC? 😭

- Enjoy 😊

Jamil sighed, reclining on the couch in his dorm room. For once, there was no Kalim, no spontaneous parties, and no responsibilities weighing on his shoulders. He glanced across the room, where his S/O sat on his bed, flipping through a book with long locks spilling over her shoulders. The soft lamplight gave her hair an almost ethereal glow, though it was clear she had done little to maintain it that day.

His sharp eyes instantly picked up on the faint dryness at the ends and the slight tangles forming in the waves of her sheep-like hair. He frowned, sitting up.

“You didn’t brush it today, did you?” Jamil asked, narrowing his eyes at them.

She glanced up from her book, blinking innocently. “Brush it? I did! …Sort of.”

Jamil raised an eyebrow. “Sort of doesn’t count. You’re going to ruin your hair if you leave it like that.”

“It’s not that bad,” she protested, running a hand through their hair, only for her fingers to catch in a knot. She winced.

Jamil sighed, exasperated but already moving to grab his stash of hair care products. “Not that bad, huh? Sit up. We’re fixing this.”

“But I’m already in bed!” She whined, trying to burrow into the blankets.

Jamil crossed his arms, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “If you don’t get up, I’ll do it while you’re lying down. Trust me, it won’t be comfortable for either of us.”

With a dramatic groan, she sat up, letting her hair cascade down the shoulders. Jamil gestured for her to sit on the floor in front of him.

As she settled, Jamil began working his fingers gently through her locks, carefully detangling the knots. His hands were deft, practiced, and surprisingly gentle, the faint scent of the lotus hair oil (he got from Najma) filling the air.

“You’re such a perfectionist,” she murmured, leaning slightly into his touch despite her earlier protests.

“It’s not about perfection,” Jamil replied, focused on his work. “It’s about taking care of what’s yours. You’re lucky your hair is naturally soft, but even that has limits if you don’t take care of it.”

She hummed softly, enjoying the sensation of Jamil’s hands in her hair. After a moment of comfortable silence, she tilted her head slightly to look back at him.

“Jamil?”

“Hmm?”

“What does habibiti mean?”

Jamil froze for a split second, though his hands didn’t stop moving. His gaze flicked down to meet theirs, his expression unreadable.

“It’s… Arabic,” he said finally, his voice steady but softer than usual.

She smiled, their curiosity piqued. “And? What does it mean?”

Jamil’s fingers stilled for a moment before resuming their work, the faintest flush coloring his cheeks. “It means… something like ‘darling’ or ‘beloved.’ It’s a term of endearment.”

Her eyes widened slightly, warmth spreading across her face. “You’ve been calling me that this whole time?”

He shrugged, focusing intently on a particularly stubborn knot. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. It just… slipped out one day, and it felt right. If you don’t like it, I can stop.”

“No!” She said quickly, her softened their tone. “I mean… I like it. A lot.”

Jamil’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, though he didn’t look up. “Good. Then I’ll keep saying it. But only when we’re alone.”

She leaned back slightly, resting her head against his knee as he continued to work on her hair, a comfortable silence settling over them once more.

“Habibiti,” he murmured after a moment, almost as if testing the word again.

She closed her eyes, a content smile on her lips. “I heard you.” And smirked “I can get used to this.”

Jamil chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “Don’t get too used to it. You’re still brushing your hair yourself tomorrow.”

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I’d like to know what your thoughts are on the ramp to the entrance to Collège Françoise Dupont that was built between Seasons 2 and 3.

Remember, from “Heroes’ Day - Part 1”

ALYA: Last year, I wrote an article about equipping public buildings with disabled access. But after seeing Ladybug and Cat Noir going that extra mile every single day, I decided that I, too, can do better. So I got the mayor’s approval to improve facilties so that handicapped kids can actually attend our school.

The stairs from “Origins” to “Heroes’ Day - Part 2”

The stairs in “Chameleon” and onwards

On paper, this is nice. A piece of worldbuilding on par with the akuma alerts like the one in “Riposte”.

However, there are three problems with this:

No one I’ve seen react to the show has noticed or remembered this, since the handicap accessibility is just a throwaway line from Alya that we don’t actually get to see being built.

We know how badly representation is presented in this show, so it’s not like this is getting any brownie points from me.

How the heck is a handicapped student supposed to get up a ramp that steep?

Collège Françoise Dupont's design is based off of Lycée Carnot, a real Parisian school, so I looked to see how the real school handled this issue. After looking at pictures of the school on Google, those steps seem to be a show-only addition. Which is interesting because the show tends to just copy the locations that inspired it. Now I'm wondering if those steps were inspired by something else?

Either way, it's hard to be too critical of the ramp's appearance without knowing the full story. While I fully agree that this is not a functional ramp, we do have to remember that there is a real-world cost associated with adding the ramp to the show. Someone has to design it and add it to the model, so I understand why they did it cheaply. Redesigning the steps into something more elegant and truly functional would have been ideal, but probably impossible to justify budget-wise since it's just a minor visual element. Same goes for animating someone putting in the ramp, which would be even more expensive. I'm honestly surprised that they added the ramp at all!

Now, does that mean that they should be praised for taking the time to put in a slap-dash ramp while never actually acknowledging or using it? No. To me, this feels like a lesser version of their choice to make Marinette a fashion designer while working in a medium that rarely allows her to design anything or even just change her outfit because, once again, budget! Before adding something to your script, you really should think through whether or not you can execute it properly. If you can't, then maybe pick a different path?

To be fair, it's possible that they didn't realize how bad the ramp would look until it was time to animate it. At that point, there's not really a great way to fix the problem. Do you leave the steps as-is even though you've explicitly drawn attention to the accessibility issue or do you be technically faithful to what you promised and put in a non-functional ramp? I don't know. I'm leaning toward "just don't add it," but neither choice is great.

It's even possible they may have only seen the ramp after it was too far in the animation process to revert back to the steps. With most or all of the animation being done out of house (I'm not actually clear on what if anything was done in house prior to season six), they almost certainly weren't seeing every step of the process or having daily reviews of what things were looking like, allowing for detailed input. How much input did they have? No idea! They absolutely got to review story boards or possibly even make them, but between the story board and the final 3D product? No idea.

I looked online for a general guide of the steps involved in working with an outside animation studio and this one generally matches what I know of the process if you want a high-level idea of how this can go and why redoing things may be no small request even if the models already exist. Once a scene is rendered, you have to completely rerender it to make any changes and that's pricey! Sometimes you just have to take a lesser quality product and go with it.

In summary, without knowing more details about what happened here, I don't feel fair being super critical of this, but it's certainly not getting any praise from me.

[panpteryx]

re. notes section: they literally cover ‘media’ in their submission, and I agree, it doesn’t mean the same thing as what they’re going for

but yeah, honestly I generally agree with this. there aren’t many good umbrella terms for the stuff itself: I’ll call the people who make it “creators” just in general, to cover artists/writers/gifmakers/sculptors/devs/etc, but past that you don’t have many options

calling everything “art” *sorta* works, but which, while accurate imo, is a *far* broader meaning than the word is usually used for, which doesn’t make for very effective communication

you could literally make a list of random fields any time you want to talk about stuff (which is *really* not particularly feasible, you’ll leave stuff out and it’s stressful and annoying)

you could come up with some awkward construction like “largely self-directed small batch creative works of any medium as made by individuals outside of (though occasionally tangential to) the direct contexts of industrialized mass production”

…or you could just use “content”, which, while slightly annoying in the connotations that it is made to be devoured or to fill something rather than to be respected as art, does at least indicate the stuff the speaker means to indicate, as a useful conversational shorthand

if there’s a more accurate word that still covers everything from writing to sculpture to game development *without* the capitalistic connotations, I’d love to know it!

If anyone can recommend a better term than "content" that also means "any and all art, fiction, nonfiction, blog posts, gifsets, graphics, audio, or video, made with the intention to be viewed and engaged with by an online audience" by all means, I'll use it. But I don't know one, so I use the term "content." If I mean "fanartists," I'll say "fanartists." If I mean "gifset creators," I'll say "gifset creators." If I mean "meme accounts," I'll say "meme accounts." If I mean "Youtubers," I'll say "Youtubers." But if I mean all of them and more, I need a term for that, and the best term I know is "content." Ie "if people want more content from a creator, it's best to engage with that content." "Content creators from different countries are affected by different ip laws." I'm not only referring to fanfiction authors in these statements, although fanfiction authors are included. I'm sorry if you dislike the connotation of being called a content creator and want the fact that you're an artist that creates ART, not CONTENT to be highlighted, but I wouldn't call gifset creators and meme accounts "artists" and I'm also referring to them. It's true, the term simplifies your creation in a way you might not like. But that's the purpose of a generalised term. Again: if anyone has a better generalised term, please recommend it to me. But if not, if you're going to complain about connotation and context, at least consider that the people that use the term content might have actually considered connotation and context, and decided it's the best term we have for the purpose we need it to serve. I've considered "media" before, but "media" doesn't necessarily imply the creator-audience interaction "content" implies. A car commercial is "media," but it's not "content." Obviously not everyone that posts content online has the intention to amass a huge audience, but there remains a social aspect that I am considering when I refer to "content," said social aspect not being a component of all "media."

--

[beatricmalfoy]

About Pond

Trust or leave

Normally I just ignore all the drama and comments but I feel so angry about those “fans” who attack Pond right now, honestly in his place I would just shut down whole company, took Mile and Apo and moved to New York to live his best rich life. I may not agree with his every decision and I am not always agree with him, but how all those “fans” don’t understand that without him, Kinnporsche wouldn’t have existed, BOC wouldn’t have existed, and all the pairings and soundtracks, too. It’s all his that you love so dearly. Jeff wouldn’t be so popular, Barcode wouldn’t be even casted and Apo would be in NY bartending in some bar. He believed Mile, believed Apo and took on production, you can see in every bts video, he was non stop on set, even as CEO he doesn’t have to. All the sponsorships come through his connections, all magazines and everything, they are mostly people he knew. Even this evening, everyone thinks that they have a vacation and tour around the Tokyo, but he is having the diner with few influential people, which potentially will be, or already are sponsors of actors. I am not fan of his interactions on instagram with fans, it’s totally useless to speak to those crazy people, but overall he seem to do a good job with BOC and company. Everyone hates him because he’s not doing what they want, being it with projects, pairing, actors and everything else but guess what, if the companies or bands would be ruled by fans, they wouldn’t survive a month. And don’t even get me started on the whole bankruptcy things, he never said that actors where hungry or he did not have any money left, he said that even though the tours are not very profitable, guys still wants to do that, and that because everyone wanted to have more dishes, the budget on FOOD went in red. And about the whole “BOC protect your artist”, like, protect from what? Guilty or not, because of him there’s big shadow over the whole cast and their reputation, maybe even they would have to go to court, can you imagine what it will be like for Bible, Barcode? And how much money did the company already lost, including sponsorship, missed events, harm on reputation and Pond, who had to leave his home on Chinese New Year’s Eve and fly to Build to talk to him and to deal with the problems that he cased, because he can’t quietly break up with one of his many girlfriends. What I want to say, If you don’t like his company, if you don’t like what he’s doing, just get out and don’t whine on social media about it, don’t spread more hate there. I hate when I go to comments and apparently everyone are financial and pr specialist, marketing professionals and lawyers. Just let him do his job, if you liked KinnPorsche, if you liked what he did, don’t attack him, don’t criticize him. If he fucked up, the biggest lose will be for him, you will just move on with you business. Just trust or leave.

P.S After Build will leave company I hope all his fans will leave with him, it’s unbearable to even read what they are saying.