#sorry for repeating myself a million times

[warlenys]

wait wait.. pls talk about your hilson father/son dynamic thoughts 🙏🙏

this is incredibly all over the place but. 8x16 gut check house gives wilson a child etc classic gay shit house though then gets jealous of this child and wilson tells him it’s because house is a child. doesn’t say His child but also. house says to him in that ep that the only relationship wilson hasn’t quit on has been theirs. you then have wilson’s fake child telling him he loves him in a Car. then in holding on wilson tells foreman that house isn’t his child he’s not responsible for his happiness! foreman says you are responsible actually. then there are multiple quips about wilson’s cancer being his and house’s baby so overall for me it’s just like. house gives wilson a child. he feels replaced by that child because it ends up occupying his space in wilson’s life. that child’s fake though. their real child is cancer. it’s their precious little bundle of tumour that’s taking wilson away from house. replacing house in wilson’s life. house wanted to make wilson a dad he was pining for a child so he gave him one but he’s awful his love is awful so the child ends up being cancer. wilson’s gregnant with cancer. and house can’t abort the cancer he tries but he fails so the most he can do is become it. give wilson a good child. and with that house becomes the source of wilson’s pain and is that pain and is inescapable (he always has been). he is however also the Reliever of that pain (he always has been). house could only give wilson a viable non-cancer child by giving him himself but now he’s fused with the cancerous one and it’s killing both of them. his life is (now, by nature, indisputably) dependent on wilson completely. he’s tied to him forever and wilson’s tied back. beyond marriage. in blood. in life. the life that house finds after dying and surviving is a rebirth and he’s reborn as wilson’s child. and wilson accepts this and accepts house’s need for him (doesn’t think it’s a bad thing anymore) because he now isn’t just another future ex wife. wilson doesn’t get to run away if it turns sour and he likes that. it’s what he’s always needed (every time he runs away from house he hates it but he keeps running away). this keeps them together. wilson didn’t want house as a husband he wanted him as a child because it’s (now, for them) a completely inescapable relationship. and wilson knows that he isn’t just engaging in it to feed his neediness he’s no longer a vampire he’s a father this is sustenance for both of them this is legacy this is forever and yet also. it is only now. these few months. it will end. slipping through their fingers etc. but they’re fine with it. this is a consenting to it. death won’t do them part anymore and that’s the only thing they want. and to be reductive of the rest of the show i also just like thinking about house as having been in wilson’s womb the whole time with the ending being his realisation that that’s where he is and that’s (part of) why he’s failed at every other love meaning now he can die to finally be born correctly in the correct arms and finally therefore Live. but yeah it’s just this nutrient sucking codependency that fulfils them in ways they’ve always unknowingly needed. they birth each other. they feed each other. they kill each other. they save each other. it’s about wilson wanting to be a dad and house hating his. it’s about their love only existing when it becomes deadly. it’s about escaping everything that’s doomed them and creating something new. it also means wilson is survived by house. like house’s afterlife becomes wilson, wilson’s afterlife through this becomes house. the child is killing him and the child won’t let him die. so they die and live simultaneously. as they do. tldr faildad house (made cancer baby) tries child role instead and thrives. let me know if this made any fucking sense btw

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Still cant believe rivals charles real. Or will be in like. A year’s time.

[theythemmer]

did you get banished from bluesky? i was wondering why my timeline was so empty 😭

oh no i’m having like an EPIC mental breakdown and deactivated LMFAO i miss yall so bad but im so all over the place rn that i needed to take a step back. i’ll be back soon i promise i am just trying to deal w mental illness on top of my body actively shutting down lol

[kaddos]

never in my life have i heard such a tragic and hopeful and beautiful song..... what if we were both addicts and desperately in love with each other but we could only manage to be the worst versions of ourselves to each other... and what if we understood each other profoundly because of this and yet we couldnt have any real closeness because our relationship would only ever be tumultuous. what if i hold a million versions of you in my head and you were bad to me but you were all i had and it wasnt even anything i could name. what if sometimes i cared about you desperately and you did sometimes and other times you were just fucking mean. and what if ill miss you forever. what then

[atrwriting]

selfish - frank castle x reader

hey y'all back in action with another porn no plot one shot

all i'm saying is,,, they knew who their target audience was with this (or are we just all mentally ill?)

summary: frank shows you what it means to be a real, selfish man.

informal warnings: frank is the selfish man in this, but I was the selfish woman writing this. couldn't get this out of my head as I started season two of the punisher, and frankly (haha get it -- sorry) after this scene you wouldn't be able to either

as always, the actual warnings: vulnerable frank, #sadboihrs for both the reader and frank, smut, porn no plot, choking, dirty talk, and ROUGH frank

anyway... selfish:

“what’s your type?”

the million dollar question. the one that you had been troubling yourself over for years.

“my type?” you repeated, eyeing the man who asked you. “or my pattern?”

he tilted his head in curiosity. “both.”

you chuckled. “my pattern… well, they’re usually useless. man babies.”

it was his turn to chuckle. “you like taking care of them, yeah?”

you shrugged. “i love taking care of people, but not men that de-age into babies as time goes on. did you know a guy i dated asked me how to boil water once?”

“you’re joking,” he took a swig of his beer, eyeing you. “no way that’s true. made that up.”

“i wish,” you laughed, rubbing a hand over your face. “i’m also not making it up that i stayed with him two years after that.”

“sounds like your fault.”

you nodded. “the pattern made me realize what my real type is.”

“what?”

“it’s corny.”

“say it.”

a smirk attempted to appear on your lips, but you pushed it back down. “i don’t like selfless men.”

he let out a laugh in disbelief at that. “you and every other chick.”

you chuckled too. “i heard this an analogy once… if you’re falling over a cliff, would you want your person to save you? or someone else about to fall on another side of the cliff?”

he stopped talking then, listening intently.

you kept going. “obviously, i’d want the other person saved… but in my head, when i’m all alone and there’s no one that has to be saved… sometimes it’s nice to think that someone would be so selfish that they would save me over doing what’s right.”

“you could live with that though?” he asked, narrowing his eyes, a bit of judgement lacing his words.

you shrugged. “never been the person that was saved, so i’m really not sure. it’s not that i want to be saved or anything — that’s super fucking corny. but man, a fucking masculine man, putting you over other things? deciding that in that moment, you’re what matters to him? i spend all my days being selfless, putting myself in danger so other people are saved… and i’m tired.” you took a swig of your drink. “i’m really fucking tired.”

“why don’t you save yourself, then?”

“for the same reason you’re here,” you sighed. “when have we ever been selfish, frank?”

he laughed at that, but almost scoffed. “i don’t do anything i do for anyone but me.”

you swallowed then, clenching your jaw. “so many people have wronged you… but you’ve only done what you’ve done because of how people have wronged those you loved. hate to break it to you… but you’re as selfless as anyone could be.”

he folded his lips underneath his teeth and stared aimlessly off into the distance. there were bags under his dark eyes, and no amount of sleep or beer would ever take them away. the man would never know peace, and your heart broke at that. however, it was nice to know someone was going down the rabbit hole with you.

“i don’t think i’m selfless,” he finally spoke after a bit.

you raised an eyebrow at him, calling his bluff.

“i did the things i did because my family was what was most important to me,” he admitted. “that’s selfish.”

you swished his words around in your mouth a little, and decided he was right. the spin on your words made you nod, agreeing with him. “i see your point.”

“so, what?” he asked. “you want a man that would choose you over innocent people?”

you huffed, standing. “i know you know that i never said that. i’m saying that in the back of my mind, it would be nice, just once, for a selfish man to decide that i’m all he wanted. it would be nice to know that i don’t always have to carry the weight on only my shoulders.”

he didn’t say anything then, staying planted on his seat on the floor. he twisted the bottle in his hands and listened to you.

“if i’m being honest with myself…” you began, swallowing your heavy statement. “i would prefer if they saved the innocents, but only so i could die, as i probably would falling in that situation, with a clear conscience. all i’m saying is… it’s a heavy fucking burden always doing things so i don’t feel guilty.”

you walked away then, not muttering a goodbye. frank didn’t say anything either. you heard him raise the bottle to his lips once more before you shut your bedroom door behind you.

it would be an hour or so before you heard a gentle knock on your door. there was no yelling or screaming outside, so you were grateful to hear there was no imminent danger present. in your tiny pajamas, you answered the door to find none other than frank. he was leaning against a wall in the hallway that led to your door, only a couple feet from you.

he didn’t say anything when you came face to face with him. he just stared at you, placing all of his focus on your confused face. it would be a few moments of silence before he finally stepped closer to you, and placed a calloused hand on your face.

you froze. frank castle never touched you, especially in that way.

“wanna know my type?”

you stared at him and swallowed thickly. your lips parted to whisper, “sure.”

“an escape,” he whispered back. “i know what you meant by always having the dark cloud of duty hanging above your head, ready to kill any moment of peace you happen to get your damned hands on. i’ve done everything i’ve ever done for the people i loved, and i know the only way for me to experience any fuckin’ joy is with another person.”

his dark eyes held your gaze, and you soon grew lost in them and his words. you swiped your tongue across your lips and stepped closer. you could feel frank’s breath on your chin, but you couldn’t breathe. his scent, his stare, and his fucking words were more intoxicating than any alcohol you had before.

“you want an escape, frank?” you softly asked, eyes darting to his lips.

“i do,” he stated, before he lowered his head and kissed you.

his free hand immediately came up to the other side od your face and pressed against your cheek. there, he held you in the palms of his hands as you rested your hands on his thick, muscled chest. his lips were dry and cracked, but you didn’t care. the fire that brewed from his affection was enough to fill any of the cold, dark, and lonely places inside of you and you greedily drank from anything he offered.

“you want someone to want you, darlin’?” he asked in between kisses.

you hummed in agreement, not wanting to break apart your kiss for anything — even words.

“can’t get you out of my head, sweetheart,” he spoke, dipping his tongue into your mouth. “need to feel those long legs around me.”

you whimpered at his words, letting his tongue dance with yours. you could taste the heineken on his tongue and savored every bit. “please, frank… i need to feel you so badly.”

“i’ve got you, darlin’.” he picked you up by the backs of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around him. the pads of frank’s finger tips dug into your flesh and a warmth spread throughout you. “those fuckin’ legs.”

you would’ve giggled, but you were too consumed with the very touch of frank to even care. you pulled at his shirt and threw it over his head, sad to break the kiss for even a second. you immediately went to his neck and began to nip at the thick skin, causing a growl to rumble in the deepest parts of his rib cage.

“y’drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he grunted. “sweetest fuckin’ kisses.”

“oh, frank…” you moaned against his neck before he threw you onto the bed. you turned over onto your back to face him. he locked eyes with you as he stood over you, muscles naturally flexed as he undid his belt. your mouth watered at the sight of the fucking man before you, taking off his belt for only you. the way his shoulders, pectorals, and arms worked in the dim light of your room… that man would be the death of you. you hissed, “you’re such a tease.”

he smirked at that, throwing the belt somewhere in the distance. “think you’ve just never been with a real man before,” he replied, before engulfing you into another kiss.

frank’s hand dipped into your shorts and immediately went for your slit. your body fucking sang at finally being touched the way you needed to be as you arched your back into frank, his chest pressed against yours. when frank began to run rough circles around your clit, nothing could hold back your moans or him swallowing them whole.

“only took off my belt, and this is how wet you get?” he asked, biting down on your neck. his long, thick middle finger dipped inside of you as his thumb worked at your clit. he tapped against your upper wall and you keened into his touch, whimpering his name. “now i know it’s the men before me. barely doing a fuckin’ thing and i’ve got you like this.”

you nodded pathetically, just wanting him to continue. “it feels so good,” you gasped, bucking your hips into his hand. “please, please — don’t stop, frank.”

he leaned over and pressed his chest against yours before his lips found your neck once more. his kisses were wet and sloppy, and there was nothing better than feeling the weight of a strong man above you working at your needy pussy. his rough movements against your sensitive skin were sending you into a frenzy as if nothing mattered in the world besides frank — your world started and ended there. your body felt hot — steaming from everything this man was doing for you with barely any effort. your whimpers and gasps fueled frank’s movements as if he couldn’t get enough of them.

“such a good girl f’me,” he said before he bit down on your neck and kissed the spot. “y’get so worked up, i want to see what it’s like when you fall apart.”

“i’m so close, frank…” your voice was hoarse and full of lust, and you were about to break any moment.

“that’s it, baby, yeah,” he spoke, slipping a second finger inside of you. “cum all over these fingers baby. let me taste you after.”

“fuck, fuck, fuck —!”

your world came crashing down onto you. your strength was no match for frank’s, but with the way your back arched and body curled into him, your chests both rose off the bed. he wrapped a strong arm underneath the curve of your back as you fucking sobbed his name, holding you to him and supporting your weight.

“that’s it, darlin’,” he grunted against your ear. “yeah — that’s it. keep cumming for me, fuck…”

your hands grabbed at his thick biceps and you grew lost in his movements against the most sensitive parts of you that never ceased. your hips were rolling in circles with his fingers and your vision went hazy.

“so beautiful like this f’me,” he groaned. “might be mean and not let you stop.”

“fuck, frank,” you cried, whimpering for him. your body fell limp against his arm, and he lowered your bodies back down to the bed. during your comedown, frank kissed at your neck as his free hand ran up and down your body. his other hand continued to rub against your pussy and it was driving you fucking crazy. “let me ride you — please.”

your voice was full of desperation, and frank smirked down at you. he slipped his fingers out of you and rolled off of you onto the bed. you tugged his pants down to his thighs, not wanting to waste any time. you were so greedy, but he didn’t care. he smirked as he watched you pull down your tiny shorts. you straddled him, pressing his chest to yours, as you sank down onto his thick cock.

“my fucking god —“ you gasped, your pussy stretching around him.

frank immediately grabbed your throat and you sucked in a sharp breath at the sight. he placed the tips of his fingers in his mouth, and tasted your juices that remained on his skin. there you were, impaled on his cock, hovering over him as you watched the most sensual thing you had ever seen him do. his dark eyes were locked on yours, but your lips parted as you watched him taste you. only a smirk remained on his lips.

“sweetest fuckin’ pussy i’ve ever tasted,” he spoke. “now show me how she rides me.”

he roughly pushed you upwards so you stood up straight. the angle made a whimper leave your lips, as he was now fully inside of you and the deepest anyone has ever been. you planted a limp hand on his stomach, and began to roll your hips against his.

his calloused hands found your hips as he threw his head back against the bed. the tendons in his neck were on full display as he stretched his head back as far as he could. the pleasure he felt was spreading all throughout his body, and he couldn’t help but go taut at the feeling. you watched his mouth fall agape and his eyes close as a moan pushed passed his lips.

the pads of his fingers dug into your hips and pushed you forward and back. even his fingers were strong and had control over you, and you couldn’t help but willingly give everything over to him. your whines filled the room, getting lost in your own pleasure with him. there was nothing like the sight of being thrown into vulnerable pleasure with the man under you, succumbing to your touch.

“fuckin’ god —“ he moaned, raising his head back up to keep his eyes locked on where your bodies connected. “never felt so fuckin’ good.”

his hoarse voice caused you to move faster as you ground your hips against his. his hands were rough and desperate as they pulled you up, down, back and forth — until you didn’t know which way was anything. all you knew were the directions of frank’s hands, and you followed in suit as he dragged you down another road of ecstasy.

“greedy fuckin’ pussy,” he groaned. “never enough for her, huh? needs more, even after what i did?”

“yes, yes,” you whimpered pathetically. “your cock feels so good, frank. so fucking good.”

“yeah, darlin’, that’s it,” he grunted, brown scrunching together. “such a good fuckin’ girl f’me.”

“fuck, frank — don’t say that,” you cried loudly, biting your lip. “feels too good when you say that — i can’t cum yet.”

he immediately reached for your neck and pulled you down to him. you gasped at his rough touch, but your hips never stopped. he bent his knees so your ass could bounce off of them, giving you more leverage. his cock curled deeper into you, hitting your cervix.

“oh my — god —“ you sobbed so close to his lips.

“nah, baby, that’s not how this works — you’re gonna take everything fuckin’ i give you,” he grunted. “i know y’want to be a good girl f’me, yeah?”

“yeah, yeah, yes —“ you were incoherent at this point, ready to tell frank anything he wanted to hear as he bucked his hips into yours. “frank, i’m so close — how —“

“love a needy pussy like this,” he spoke, pulling you closer by the throat for a kiss. “you gonna be good to me? you gonna cum around my cock?”

“fuck, yes —“ you sobbed. “i want you to cum with me, baby, fill me up.”

that set him off. he rolled both of you over before you even knew what was happening. he had you pressed against the bed, hand still around your throat. you grabbed at his arm, loving having the feeling of his strong muscles hold you down. you wrapped your legs around his back as he threw his hips into you. over, and over, he drove himself inside you.

“dirty fuckin’ girl,” he growled, biting down on the skin of where your neck and shoulder met.

that was it. that was how you crumbled a second time for frank that evening.

you fucking wailed his name.

you grabbed at every part of him you could, struggling to hold on for dear life. your body shook with convulsions as your pussy tightened around him, locking his cock in place. nothing could stop his strong hips as they continued to rut into you — riding out your second orgasm of that evening.

you fell back against the bed, fucked out and gasping for air pathetically. frank pressed several kisses to your neck before he stood up on his knees, leaving your weak body below him. you pushed yourself to your elbows with whatever strength you could muster. frank grabbed you by the hips and you watched him slam his hips into yours.

you watched his forehead scrunch as his mouth fell agape. his chin was almost tucked to his neck as his eyes never left where his cock fucked into you.

“use me just like that, baby,” you cried. “i want your cum inside me.”

his strong, trim body went taut as his orgasm hit him, and you watched hungrily as the man before you fell vulnerable to the only pleasure he could allow himself these days. you watched as his conscious mind slipped further and further into the sensation until every ounce of stress and exhaustion left his face. you couldn’t help but bite your lip in pride and satisfaction — knowing that you will never see a more beautiful sight like frank castle using your body to get off.

you fucking loved selfish men.

----

DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN NOW EVERYONE GO WATCH THIS SCENE -L xox

[chaiisms]

BALDURS GATE 3 PARTY BANTER PROMPTS LIST.

all of the following prompts are taken from party banter between the companions in larian studios' baldurs gate 3 (2023). there should be no spoilers! also, a disproportionate amount of these are from astarion and karlach. i'm not sorry.

I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you, [ name ]?

You'll be as depraved as the rest of us in no time.

Friend of yours?

Were you always so sneaky?

If there's hope for me there's hope for anyone.

How are we not there yet? My feet are killing me.

This is what I get for trying to strike up conversation.

We're not going to have trouble, are we?

If we continue this way, we may get too close for comfort.

Don't get too comfortable. We shouldn't overstay our welcome in such a place.

Do you have pet names for each other yet?

[ name ]! Was that a joke?

You know what - that is not the easiest of questions for me to answer.

Given your own nature, are you really the one to judge?

You can read?!

I'm surprised - I expected you to turn your back once you got what you wanted.

I wouldn't know a flirtation if you whacked me alongside the head with it.

Why stay somewhere safe and comfortable when we could be in mortal peril?

Can't say I love what they've done with the place.

I'm learning to enjoy the taste of chaos. Count me in.

At least you didn't tell me to 'be myself'.

You have so much to learn. Repeat after me: honey muffin, sweetie pie, sugarplum.

Nice to be in a crowd of normal people for once.

So [ name ], how is your sad, hopeless pining going?

You seemed a million miles away just then.

I fear I've been rather hasty to judge you, [ name ].

Ready to enter the belly of the beast?

Step one of starting a conversation: think before you speak.

I hear your relationship has taken on a new aspect recently…

All right, just keep it down. We're conspicuous enough without your hyena call.

Not one for roughing it, I see.

Why not have a little fun?

You're right, of course. Forgive me.

My money's on you, [ name ].

The echoes - listen! They're coming from three directions!

Want me to carry you?

Feeling at home?

Treat them right, or you'll have me to answer to.

Oh, darling, would you?

No doubt they found me too intimidating.

A girl could get used to this.

Now I don't know what to believe.

Well - yes, it was a joke.

I know that, too. It just wasn't funny.

And here I thought I rubbed you the wrong way.

Man, it's good to be home. First round on who?

Oh, I wouldn't actually leave. After all, where would you be without me?

You've quite the knack for finding the bright side of things, haven't you?

Well what would impress you, then?

Let's just stop this conversation right here, shall we?

Must've been an awful day for the people who lived here

You've clearly thought this through a great deal. I'm impressed and appalled in equal measure.

Sure, but think of the stories you'll be able to tell.

I never was scared of the shadows.

I know you're not really as heartless as all that.

I judged you wrongly. I'm sorry.

Are you charging for this sage advice, or is sticking your nose into my business just a hobby?

Pragmatism, thy name is [ name ].

That's ironic, coming from you.

We're either very clever or very lucky.

You do not need luck to survive, [ name ]. Not when you have me.

That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky.

Stop gawking at the decor. This place is dangerous.

I can't tell if you're joking.

So, what's it like caring for someone other than yourself, [ name ]?

You think I'm beautiful?

I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.

Yet another thing we have in common. We're two peas in a pod.

Is it so unbelievable that they would simply like me?

Use your words.

You gonna catch me if I eat a brick?

[ name ], I've heard you talking in your sleep.

Let's never speak of this again.

You can take a day off once in a while, [ name ]

Hey! Something bit me.

Cheer up. It might be all downhill from here.

I love a nice secret hideaway, don't you?

Think the bar is open?

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

[wip!] the art & science of parenting || jay park

update: this fic's been posted!! click here to read!

a/n: hellaur everyoneeee here's a lil summary & drabble into another wip i'm working on rn,,,i had this idea in the back of my head for SO incredibly long (im talking since 2021 pls) and decided to finally go for it :') so here's a lil peek for the time being to prove i'm still alive heh. i hope you guys like this concept,,,idk why but i really envisioned jay in this trope maybe because i plan on making it very fun & lighthearted but mixed in with some serious & angsty tones...we shall seeeee....you know i love my college!aus and e2l!aus heheh anyways saur sorry im yapping now! lmk what you think & if you want to be tagged !!

genre: jay x female!reader, fluff, comedy, college!au, enemies to lovers!au, parenting!au (parenting a robot baby LMAO), sum angst maybe, both reader & jay are smartasses who don't know how to communicate and confront their feelings , also a bit of photographer!jay :')

summary: The Art & Science of Parenting 101 (PSY1009) – In this interactive course, students will explore the psychological, social, and biological foundations of parenthood. Through a mix of theory and hands-on practice, you'll master the art of raising a simulated baby—aka the 'robot child.' Late-night feedings, tantrum taming, and crisis control are all part of the deal. What you didn’t expect to be part of the deal? Getting paired with Jay Park—the last person you’d trust to raise, well, anything. You’re pretty sure he couldn’t even take care of a pet rock. Now, you’re stuck co-parenting this robot baby together for 40% of your final grade.  Warning: Sleep deprivation is guaranteed. And maybe, just maybe, some unexpected feelings for your disaster of a partner. Good luck!

longer drabble under cut! <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

"Y/N and Jay."  

Wait. What?  

Your head snaps up so fast it's a miracle it didn't pop off your neck and roll away.  

You blink. You must have misheard.  

"Y/N and Jay," Professor Kim repeats as if she could read your confused expression, voice too nonchalant for the life-wrecking news she's about to deliver: "You two are partners."  

The words hit you like a bus. No, not even. The words hit you like a bus driven by a T-Rex that flips over, crashes into a building, and explodes into a million ashy pieces. And there you are—standing right in the middle of the wreckage, somehow still alive to suffer through every second of it—while Jay, smug as ever, whips around in his seat to face you.  

And of course, there it is: that look of his that screams 'This is going to be so much fun for me, and so much pain for you.' 

"Guess we're parents now, Y/N!" Jay chimes, his voice dripping with so much sarcastic enthusiasm you swear he just got handed an Oscar for Most Annoying Human. If that tone were a substance, you'd bottle it up and use it as insect repellent. On him. Repeatedly.  

You blink at him, you're sure—you're praying—this has to be some elaborate prank. Maybe Jay bribed Professor Kim with his rare attempt at turning in an assignment on time just to mess with you. Or maybe the universe just hates you and this is your karma for stealing your roommate's last ramen packet that one time a year ago.  

But no, Professor Kim keeps rattling off other pairs like it's business as usual, as if your entire academic career and sanity isn't currently being flushed down a metaphorical toilet, while you sit there, paralyzed, your brain rapidly melting into a useless puddle from the sheer thought of being paired with him.  

"What's wrong, Y/N?" Jay teases as he leans over the back of his chair towards you. "You don't want to play house with me?"  

You narrow your eyes at him, mentally wielding your imaginary bug spray like it's a holy weapon. "I don’t," you reply flatly. "In fact, I’d rather perform open-heart surgery on myself with a plastic spoon than co-parent with you." 

Jay’s eyes light up as his hand goes to his heart. "Aw, you really know how to make a guy feel special. This is why I like our little relationship, you know?" 

"Relationship?" You scoff loud enough to make the people sitting three rows behind you to glance in your direction. "The only thing we have in common is a shared oxygen supply." 

"See, that’s the spirit," he says, turning back to face the front like he didn't just ruin your life. And somehow, that pisses you off even more. Is it his voice? His stupidly perfect hair? The fact that he breathes in your general direction? At this point, he could literally sneeze, and it would still feel like a personal attack.

Is it too late to switch majors? Or schools? Maybe even countries? Surely, restarting your entire college career as a super senior would be better than spending the next six weeks parenting with Jay. Jay Park, who has probably never held anything more fragile than a Red Solo Cup.  

Jay Park, who is just sitting there, all calm and collected, clearly loving every second of your misery.  

While you're frozen in pure, unadulterated horror.  

Your grade? Plummeting as we speak.  Your robot baby? Probably going to need therapy by day two.  And you?  

You're screwed. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

decided to go for a longer sneak peek than usual bc im very excited about this one heh :) i also changed up my title image formatting..trying out smth new !!!

lmk if you want to be tagged!

<3, addie

[featguler]

we don't talk about it ────── you don't have the time — arda tries convincing you to come to his game.

♡ ────── pairing : arda güler x reader ♡ ────── tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. situationship!arda guler. reader speaks turkish n is speaking turkish with arda in this. angsty i guess??? i keep asking myself why i keep on giving him these stressful situationship scenarios omfg ♡ ────── wordcount : 715 ♡ ────── notes : more situationship arda i literally dc. also sorry for not posting in a while im tiiiired with work and my intern!! >:(( title is from august by flipturn!! ♡ masterlist.

“So you can’t come?”

Arda breathes into the mic, his eyes immediately fluttering close as he hears shrugging on your end, his phone trapped between his shoulders and his ears.

“Yeah.”

Arda tries imagining you right now. He tries imagining the expression on your face, he tries imagining what you are doing—swaying around, sitting down, biting your nails, rolling your eyes—and he lets his fantasies feed more into his imminent heartbreak.

He is in the changing room. Practice was rough that day, though he thinks that maybe it’s just him. Brahim seems to be having the time of his life, and Federico is somewhere talking to Antonio about the shenanigans that his kids, plural now that the youngest have turned one, have been up to lately.

And the room is far from quiet.

It’s alive—full of Eduardo chanting a Spanish song that Vinícius just taught him, full of Jude giggling as he texts his family group chat, and it’s full of Arda’s ailing heart beating against his ribs.

“Sorry,” you mumble to his speaker. Normally, Arda would find a way to voice his disappointment; he would click his tongue, he would thump his head against the wall, he would hang the call and scream into his mouth. But not right now.

“It’s in a week,” he tries negotiating, “not a week, even. 10 days. It’s in 10 days.”

The background noise increases—maybe he’s hallucinating—and Arda decides that he wouldn’t let anyone notice his distress.

No.

A part of him is embarrassed that he’s mulling so much over someone who he has been pining for for ages. He wonders if his older teammates, like Toni or Luka, know what a situationship is. His mother certainly does not. He asked her.

And sure there’s nuances and context in every relationship, but it somehow feels humiliating to explain to his teammates that he’s sad over someone who he is crushing on, but is technically going out with, but also not dating, yet is in a relationship with.

“I know, Arda,” he hears something shifting on your end. “It’s just that I promised my friend that we would go hang out.”

“You can hang out at the Bernabeu,” he encourages, still, his voice light despite the disappointment anchoring his chest. “I’ll get you the tickets.”

Arda opens one eye and watches the changing room, making sure that nobody is giving him their time of day.

“I asked you a few days ago,” he mutters quietly, rubbing the back of his neck rather harshly at the pent up frustration he’s developed every time he speaks to you. “I mean, I asked you first. It’s not fair.”

“Not fair?”

You echo him, and Arda lets out a rather long, extravagant sigh.

“Sorry.”

“We’re not—” you sigh. “Not fair? And whose fault do you think that is?”

Arda bites his lips, thinking over his words.

“Sorry.” He sighs again. “My fault. It’s my fault.”

“Right,” you huff into the speaker.

“Right,” he repeats, before uttering out a weak, “I miss you.”

You didn’t answer him for a moment, and Arda fears that he might have lost his hearing, but he eventually hears a breath.

“I miss you too.”

“I miss you more.”

A stupid smile etched on his lips—an idiotic, hopeful smile.

“Whatever.” He can basically see you roll your eyes. “I’m still not coming. I’m not coming to any of your games, you hear me?”

Until you make it official. He can basically hear you say.

He’s had this conversation a million times, and for some reason, it’s not enough push for him to commit to a relationship. He feels like if it were anyone else, he would not have much of an issue in putting a label on your relationship.

But it’s you.

And he has spent so long wanting you. What if you become his, and then you leave? You break up with him, leave him shattered? There is no breakup if there is no relationship in the first place—the senseless voice in his head keeps on whispering—there is no being left alone if he never decided to stay.

“Tell me if you change your mind.”

You huff to the phone again. “See you, Arda.”

He holds back an I love you, and laughs softly.

“I’ll see you around.”

[elodieunderglass]

Can you re-describe your flight rising lying story? I’m afraid I don’t know it and I can’t find it on your blog anywhere

Ah sorry you can’t find anything on this blog! But when I tricked Flight Rising, it was about birthday dragons.

At some point before the 2millionth dragon was born, I noticed that dragons were being hatched with IDs like 19890902. That’s a birthday!

So naturally I went and submitted a post on the anonymous tumblr confession blog DramaRising, where unhappy people complained about dragons. This was my only post on this blog, which I did not even follow or read. I simply went in to a random dive bar, dropped an explosive, and left.

The post was something like, “I’ve just found my birthday dragon. Be sure to get yours quick!” I believe there was no further explanation of what a birthday dragon even was? I was just momentarily possessed of a spirit of mischief.

Carnage ensued.

Everyone assumed that it was an established new trend, and they were FRANTIC to secure theirs. They posted their birthdays online, threads sprang up, and there was a surge in activity. Cheeky people were exalting birthday dragons to the great woe of the dozens of players sharing these birthdays.

Eventually one of the mods posted that it was now dragon-illegal to post a dragon ID with reference to it being a birthday.

Many of the threads have been deleted, but for example in 2018 people were still talking about it.

Here’s a Reddit thread in which a better historian than myself recalled them selling for 20 million coins.

Nobody could figure out how the trend had started … but by the time they were chasing their birthday dragon, it was already well under way. The trend was a trend! It was trending! It made sense! You only had one chance (or two, if you used USA/UK style dates) to get it, you were competing with others, it was unique and random and could never be repeated… the conditions were perfect for a wild frenzy. It was very funny and good.

There is another punchline: I do not own my own birthday dragon. Someone else has it. It would have been SMART to secure my own birthday dragon before setting off an illegal stock market surge in birthday dragons, but i did not, because…

… i have never cared very much about dragon IDs.

lmao

[kimabutch]

So I used to have intense cooking anxiety, to the point of frequently crying and/or having panic attacks in the kitchen — and now I love cooking and it rarely stresses me out. In case anyone else is going through that same struggle, a) I’m really sorry, that sucks immensely and don’t let anyone tell you it’s silly and b) here are a few rules I’ve made for myself that have helped me tremendously.

Never cook while hungry. Ever. It makes me sad, tired, and frustrated, which makes me try to go faster than I should, which just makes me more sad, tired, and frustrated. I keep small snacks on hand at all times.

Abandon the oppressive clutches of time. Trying to cook at a “normal” pace was one of the biggest sources of anxiety for me, so I don’t try to do that anymore. The recipe says it’ll take X minutes? Fake number, ignore it. It take a million years to cut a clove of garlic? That’s fine, I’ll get better over time. Other people are hungry? They can have one of my small snacks. Doing two things at once is too stressful? Do them one at a time, fuck efficiency. I’m feeling overwhelmed in the middle of a recipe? Almost all recipes can be completely paused in the middle of cooking by simply taking them off the heat, with very little effect on the final product.

Look up anything and everything. The internet sucks in many ways, but it has also allowed me to search for “skillet” or “scallion” dozens of times when I’ve forgotten, without anyone else knowing. If I’m anxious about making a substitution, I look it up. If I don’t know why something’s taking so long to cook, I look it up. There’s no shame in it.

My kitchen, my rules. And when I’m cooking in a kitchen, it temporarily becomes my kitchen. I kick people out if I need to. I put on my music or stay in blissful silence. I know not everyone can do this one, but even something like putting on noise-cancelling headphones and asking people not to talk to me as I cook has been helpful in decreasing my stress when sharing a kitchen.

Repeat recipes. Making something I already know I can make is so much less anxiety-inducing than making something new. It lets me actually practice the techniques they use and eventually, to tweak the recipe (something that used to make me super anxious), and eventually go faster or be more efficient. Anyone who doesn’t want to eat vegetable fried rice once a week for a whole month doesn’t need to eat my cooking.

Hope that helps someone and good luck out there!

[drowned-captain]

The Rebound - Pitfighter! Vi x Fem! Reader - Ch. 5

A/N: WE HAVE REACHED HALF A DOZEN CUPCAKES! I REPEAT: WE HAVE REACHED HALF A DOZEN CUPCAKES! Muah muah <3 I feel so loved rn. So Ima love y’all back with an even longer chapter >:D Would’ve gotten this out much earlier, but I’m currently studying for one of the most important exams of my life!! Sorry about the delay. That exam is coming up, so I'll have a lot more time to get these chapters out sooner. I hope y’all enjoy

MDNI (18+ only).

TW// Mature themes like violence, drinking, drug use, infidelity, mean/triggering thoughts, toxic codependency

Word Count: ~ 8.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vi’s soreness woke her up the following day. Her head was pounding, her neck was stiff, and some of her bruises hurt more than she was used to. She blamed the lack of alcohol in her system for feeling this kind of physical pain, inhaling sharply through her teeth as she sat up. It took her a moment to remember how the fight went, causing her shoulders to slump. She chewed the inside of her lip, feeling anger bubbling in her veins. When she swung her legs out of bed, she knocked the plastic cup of water over. 

“Son of a…” she grumbled, seeing the liquid spread on her floor. She left it there, angry at herself for placing a cup of water on the floor in the first place. 

The first thing she did after leaving her bed was to beat the hell out of her punching bag. Her body begged her to relax, but she ignored its warnings. The exhaustion won anyways, making her punches sloppy. The smacks of the punching bag didn’t ring in her apartment like they always did. This pissed her off even more. She yelled in frustration, now pacing her apartment like a caged lion. 

She sat back down on her bed, cringing a bit for stepping in the water with her socks on. She then stared at the floor as her leg bounced.

Being the crowned champion of The Pit was all that she had. That was one of the biggest things that made her proud of what she does best. She knows that she let a lot of people down for not winning. That’s all she ever does: Let people down. Maybe that’s what she actually does best.

Vi sighs and runs a hand through her oil-colored hair, then holds her head in her hands as she stares at the floor. Looking down made her headache worse, but she felt like she deserved this pain for freezing in the arena. 

Her eyes tracked the fallen cup ahead of her. She reached over and picked it up, looking into it. She brought it to her lips and tapped the bottom of it, only getting the one drop that didn’t spill out into her dry mouth. As if it was some sort of potion, the thoughts about losing the fight came to a halt. There was a feeling of anxiety in her chest as she remembered how nasty her attitude was with you. 

“Fuck.” She whispered, putting a palm to her face. God, she felt horrible. She gripped a lock of her hair in frustration. She knew that you didn’t deserve all that bullshit from her.

There was a soft knock on her apartment door.

“Fuck off, rent isn’t even due for another few weeks!” She yells out. When there’s another knock, she huffs in annoyance and goes to her door. She opens it, her nose wrinkled, “What the f— oh,” she calms down, “Loris. Didn’t expect you to show up this early.”

She lets him in before going back to sit on her bed. He looks around briefly, noting that there are in fact less empty bottles laying around. 

“I just wanted to see how you’ve been holding up,” he puts his hands in his pockets, “It was a pretty rough night, wasn’t it?”

“I’ve reminded myself of that a million times before you showed up,” she sighs, her head drooping, “I still can’t believe I let some doped up cheaters beat me. It’s not like it’s the first time I fought someone under the influence of shimmer.”

Loris takes a few steps towards her, then pauses when he steps in the puddle. He looks down at it, then back at Vi. She was still holding the cup. Vi takes notice of the little scene, and she sighs again with a remorseful look on her face. 

“There are so many varieties of shimmer out there nowadays. Who knows what that formula had in it?” He steps back, removing his foot from the puddle of water beneath him.

“I was an asshole to her, wasn’t I?” she mumbles, looking at the empty cup in her hands. Loris stays quiet for a moment, averting his gaze. “Wasn’t I?” Vi repeats, clutching the cup hard enough for it to bend.

“You were,” Loris finally says, his voice even. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

Vi lets out a bitter laugh, her thumb rubbing the edge of the warped plastic cup. “I guess it’s what I do best, huh? Screw things up so bad that people end up leaving me for it.”

Loris leans against the wall, crossing his arms. “You’re good at a lot of things, Vi, but self-pity shouldn’t be one of them.”

She shoots him a sharp glare but says nothing. The silence that stretches between them feels heavier than her sore muscles, and for once, she doesn’t try to fill it with anger. Instead, she stares at the cup in her hands as if it holds all the answers she doesn’t want to face.

“Apologies go a long way, you know. I really think you two can talk it out.” Loris says after a moment.

Vi scoffs, but it lacks her usual fire. “Yeah, because a half-assed ‘sorry’ is going to fix everything.”

“It’s a start,” Loris counters, “She doesn’t deserve to carry the weight of your bad night.”

Vi huffs, shaking her head, but the corner of her mouth twitches upward for just a second. “Do you know where she lives?”

Loris shakes his head, “Sorry, Vi. I wish I knew.”

Vi lets out a frustrated sigh, resting her forehead against the kinked plastic cup. “It’s probably too late anyways. There’s no way that someone like her would want to stick around after I’ve been a piece of shit to her not once, but twice.” She curses under her breath, dejected.

Loris, concealing a smile, crosses his arms. “Why do you care so much about this situation anyways? Isn’t she just some random person? Forget about her. People come and go, as you’re very familiar with. After all, you don’t know her and she doesn’t know you.”

Vi is quick to give him a look between being shocked and angry. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you kick me while I’m already down?” Then, her expression becomes more confused, as if she doesn’t exactly know why you matter to her either. She stands up slowly, her bed creaking. “...I just feel like she might understand me. Talking with her the other night– the night that you bailed on me, by the way– left me feeling like I had someone to relate to.” She stacks the cup with the other two nearby.

Loris raises one of his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth fighting to turn into a victorious smile. 

“Then I had to fuck it all up,” Vi continues, “Please, Loris. Will you help me find her? I don’t– I can’t forgive myself if I never make it up to her. You’re right: she didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of my stupid tantrum. And she seems like she…” Vi recalls a deep pain within your (e/c) eyes during all the times you two have spoken, “...She seems like she could really use a friend.”

The man nods his head, finally letting himself smile, “Sure, if it means you’ll give yourself some time to recover before getting back to your gigs.” He steps out of her apartment.

Vi grabs her black jacket on her way out, her movements sluggish but purposeful. As she glances back at Loris, he gives her a small nod of encouragement. The two of them split up to look for you.

*

As usual, you were being a hermit in your bedroom. You didn’t sleep a wink last night because you were too consumed by the disappointment over everything that happened yesterday. Your shoulders ache from how tightly you’ve been holding them, and your stomach twists every time her face flashes in your head and her words echo in your ears. You press your palms against your temples, willing yourself to relax, but it’s no use.

Everything was on loop in your mind, her sharp words replaying like a broken record. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.” Each time, it stung a little more, making your fingers curl tightly into fists around your unkempt hair. You bit your lip to keep yourself from crying, though you weren’t entirely sure who you were angry with—her or yourself.

‘Ugh, why do I even care this much?’ you angrily think. 

Here’s the thing: You were hoping to begin a new chapter in your life starting with making a friend out of Vi. The idea of waking up and looking forward to spending every day with a new friend was deliciously desirable. You thought that this journey after being fresh out of a relationship would come much easier since Vi was presumably going through the same thing. You had it right there! A much needed blank slate. A new best friend on a silver platter. At least, that’s what it looked like to you.

You hated that you even spoke to Vi in the first place. It would have been so much better for you if you were just another person in the audience, collecting winnings and living a decent life through the bets. It would have been much easier if Vi was someone whose only meaning to you was a cash cow. You hated yourself for getting your own hopes up. You hated yourself for not seeing that Vi’s friendship was too good to be true.

Vi being the only reason you have something to take you away from the hellfire of your thoughts was something you didn’t realize you needed. Gosh, you needed it. You need her to distract you from it all. Talking to her about your situation, even if it was just for that one moment, was liberating. And here you are, feeling like you were pushed back into a cage.

You wrinkle your nose in anger. ‘Why did she have to play with me like that, then? Why did she get my hopes up about seeing her again?’ 

Your face then softens, suddenly feeling bad for getting upset at Vi. 

It was too easy to blame yourself. It was comfortable to blame yourself. You felt selfish for even being upset about this whole ordeal. You wanted to be mad at Vi, but it felt too self-centered. 

‘You only have yourself to blame, so blame yourself. Do you really think that someone showing you an ounce of sympathy is a sign that they are meant to be your friend? Your self respect was already crushed into dust, and somehow you made it become even worse than that.’ You sniffle, but stop your tears immediately. It makes no sense crying over Vi. You already have that spot taken by someone else. Vi, on the other hand, is someone you do not know a damn thing about. 

To you, she is a heartbroken fighter who drinks alcohol as a hobby. So what else is there to her?

You sigh, dragging your hands down your face as you try to stop the storm in your head from raging on. The rational part of you knows it’s ridiculous to spiral like this over someone you’ve only spoken to a few times. But the other part—the louder part—is shouting that it all meant something, that Vi was supposed to be the start of something new, something good.

Instead, you’re stuck here, reeling from what felt like rejection. You glance at the clock on your wall. It’s almost noon, and you haven’t even stepped out of your room. Your apartment feels stuffy, like the walls are closing in on you. The bed creaks as you stand up, and for a moment, you just stand there, staring at the floor, wondering if you should bother leaving the house or just let the day waste away.

‘Maybe some air will clear my head,’ you think. Or maybe it’ll just give you more room to stew over everything.

As tempted as you were to take all your cogs and soothe yourself by buying things, you knew that being stingy is going to save you for now. An idea suddenly popped into your head, but you were not too happy about it. 

You step into your little closet, shifting through articles of clothing you have. A large chunk of your belongings were gifts from your ex. You sigh, grabbing a beautiful (f/c) shirt. 

You had been here in your apartment, and your partner was absent for nearly the whole day. When they finally came home, they brought you that blouse and claimed that they bought it from a vendor in Piltover. You happily accepted it despite the smell of perfume lingering on the skin that you kissed in appreciation. 

Everyone in Zaun knows how hard it is to come across nice things like this shirt, especially items from Piltover. You were too scared to wear that blouse in public because you were worried about getting it dirty or having it torn off your back. The only times you were able to appreciate it on your body was when you were out and about with your partner and their friends. After all, nobody would dare touch the girl of a shimmer lord on the rise. 

You bring a finger to your mouth, tempted to bite your nail. You really did not want to get rid of some of your stuff. You owned a lot of nice things! You groan in frustration, lightly tapping yourself on your cheek to remind yourself that this is a desperate time.

So then you start clearing out your closet. You left yourself with clothes that would not make you that big of a target to rob in the streets. You stuffed the clothes into a bag that luckily wasn’t heavy enough to make you carry it like some giant snail. For protection, you grabbed a switchblade that you kept hidden under your mattress.

When you left your apartment complex, your anxiousness was heightened. You stayed as vigilant as you could, taking only routes that you knew were less populated than others. Each step felt heavier than the last, your grip tightening on the strap of the bag as if it were your lifeline. The streets of Zaun were quieter in these parts, but even the occasional glance from a passerby sent your heart racing. Every shadow seemed to stretch longer, every corner held the potential for trouble.

Your other hand brushed against your concealed switchblade, fingers brushing against its cool, reassuring surface. This wasn’t your first time walking these streets alone, but somehow, it felt different now. More vulnerable. You didn’t have a pack of people with you, nor do you think you look intimidating enough for people to leave you alone.

Most people in Zaun knew how to fight defensively, including yourself. But you would feel a lot more secure if you had Vi’s fists and her courage. You almost felt envious at the thought that she can walk wherever she wants to in Zaun and come out of every conflict without a bruise. You wished that you didn’t have to flinch at every sudden noise. 

‘Good for her, I guess.’ You think. 

You walked past an alleyway, spotting the silhouettes of two Zaunites in a heated embrace. You roll your eyes and keep walking.

As you walked, the weight of the bag on your shoulder felt less like a collection of clothes and more like a physical burden to carry. There were memories stitched into every seam, moments you wished you could hold onto and ones you wanted to forget, all bundled together and ready to be discarded.

‘Fucking hell! It’s just useless stuff!’ you tell yourself.

That nice shirt you almost kept wasn’t just a shirt—it was a promise you’d let yourself believe in. A promise that someone cared enough to bring you a piece of a better life, even if it reeked of a lie.

The irony of it all hit you as you passed an old, crumbling building with boarded-up windows. Here you were, clinging to fragments of a life that was never as stable as you wanted it to be, walking through a city that never stopped reminding you of how quickly things fall apart. Maybe this was just the way of Zaun—everything temporary, everything borrowed. As temporary as romantic relationships. As borrowed as precious time invested into a friendship that would never bloom.

You glance around at the passersby, wondering who might be willing to cough up a few cogs for some quality clothing. Selling these clothes felt like ripping off a layer of yourself, but desperation made the decision for you. 

You drop the bag to your feet, grabbing the first shirt on the top. You contemplate putting it back in your bag since it was a favorite of yours, but you fight your urge.

“Any takers?” you announce, feigning confidence despite the pit in your stomach.

With each passing minute, your chest tightened. Would anyone even stop to look? Or worse: would someone take one look at you and try to snatch it all away? You sigh gently and wonder if you just made yourself a target. Paranoia about being tagged and robbed some other time might haunt you for a little while after this.

A wiry woman approached, her eyes darting to the shirt in your hands. "Nice fabrics you got," she muttered, fingers twitching at her side, "I’ll give you five cogs for it."

You clenched the fabric a little tighter, your lips pressing into a line, "Five? This is worth at least forty."

The lady sneered. "Forty?" she laughed, “You think anybody just has forty cogs on them, girl?”  She stepped closer, her voice low and threatening. "Take the five, or you’ll end up with nothing.” Her eyes dart to the bag at your feet. You fight the urge to scoff at her bluff– you’ve seen much better intimidation tactics.

 "Look, I know how this works. But this isn’t just some scrap—I know the quality, and so do you. Ten cogs, and it’s yours.” You keep a steady voice, kicking the bag behind you so it’s against the wall. Just a precaution.

The woman snorted, crossing her arms, "You think I’m some kind of idiot? I can get something like that off a pile for six at best."

"Then go find it," you shot back, refusing to back down, "You won’t get this kind of stitching in Zaun unless it’s straight from Piltover. Ten’s a steal, and you know it."

"Eight," she countered, her voice sharp. "Final offer. Take it, or I walk."

Your jaw tightened, but you nodded, "Deal."

You felt the sting of losing something worth far more than eight cogs as you handed her the shirt. At least you got something out of it, right? 

*

Vi was looking into every crowd and peeking through every window hoping to catch a glimpse of you somewhere. The day was already almost over. 

She spots Loris exiting a nearby brothel, and he makes eye contact with her. They meet halfway, an unamused expression on Vi’s face, “You really think (Y/n) would be spending her time in there?”

Loris shrugs, “I thought she might work there or something.” He smooths his hair into place.

Vi facepalms. Then after a moment, she looks up at him, “...Does she?”

“Nope.” He rubs his neck, wiping lipstick off of it.

Vi stands there with Loris, feeling somewhat hopeless. “Keep looking around, I guess.”

Loris nods, walking off in some other direction.

Vi does a double-take when some lady walks by wearing a very familiar shirt. For a moment, she thought it might be you. Vi pushed her way through a few people until she was right behind this person. She studied this person’s clothing. This is, without a doubt, the shirt you wore a couple of days ago. 

She puts a hand on the lady’s shoulder, forcefully spinning her around. The lady gasps, quickly shoving Vi’s hand off of her, “The fuck do you want?” the lady barked, a disgusted look on her face.

“Where did you get that shirt?” Vi asks, her eye contact intense.

The lady opened her mouth to answer, but then her face became smug, “Oh you’re Vi, aren’t you?” She brought a hand to her mouth and giggled into it, “I don’t need to be sitting in front row seats to recognize everyone’s favorite fighter. Hah! I’m glad I didn’t bet on you yesterday. That would’ve been tragic for me.”

Vi clenches her fists, her nose wrinkling in annoyance, “Where did you get that shirt?” she repeated, more upset at the fact that this lady ignored the question. Vi could care less about this person’s lame attempt at rubbing in last night’s failure.

The woman smirked, clearly enjoying the tension she was causing, “What’s it to you? You planning to fight me for it, champ?”

Vi took a step closer, towering over her, “I’m not here to fight. Just tell me where you got it.” Her voice was sharp, low, and carried a weight that made the woman’s smile fall slightly. Vi’s eyes then narrow before she speaks, “You didn’t fight anyone for it, did you?”

“Geez, relax!” The woman exclaims, putting her hands up in defense while taking a step back. “Some poor sucker sold it to me earlier. She wanted forty cogs for it, that greedy bitch! But I got it for eight.” A smug look crosses her face.  “Whats’a tough girl like you wanting prettier stuff like this for, huh? You gonna change your look, Vi? ‘Cause if you are, I’m willing to trade this shirt for your jacket.”

Vi’s eyes darkened, the muscle in her jaw twitching. “Not happening. Last chance—where did you see her?”

The woman shifted her weight back and crossed her arms, “She’s near that old pawn shop– it used to be called Benzo’s, or something. Couple of blocks away from it. You can't miss her. She’s hawking clothes to anyone who’d listen. Looked desperate, too. Pretty sad if you ask me.”

Vi took a step forward, forcing the woman to flinch. “I didn’t ask for your opinion,” she said, her voice icy. Without another word, Vi turned and pushed her way back through the crowd, her chest tightening.

You were out here somewhere, and judging by the description, you weren’t doing great. She quickened her pace, her mind racing as she tried to shake off the gnawing guilt. If she found you, she’d make this right—she had to.

*

By the end of the day, you got rid of most of your nicer clothing. As hard as it was to part with all those gifts you loved, your pockets were a bit heavier because of it. These things would have sold for what they were worth in a place like Piltover, but for obvious reasons you couldn’t bring yourself to make the trip over there and back. 

You keep a hand on your hidden switchblade as you make the long journey back home. There was a growing sense of paranoia creeping up your spine. Each step felt heavier, the weight of your earnings barely enough to outweigh the gnawing unease in your chest. The adrenaline amplified your sense of hearing. Every miniscule noise like distant voices, your own footsteps, the buzzing of neon lights, and even the scampering of street rats and alley cats were completely ignored. Your eyes would lock on to every poster with a face on it, almost scaring yourself into thinking that it was an actual person against the wall. Most of it was just Piltover’s wanted posters for Zaun’s hero, Jinx. 

You briefly wondered if a person like Jinx had to worry about running out of cogs. Maybe she was! Ever since Silco disappeared and fell off the face of the world, you wondered how she supports herself nowadays as his supposed ex-subordinate. In a way, you somewhat understood. The absence of Silco caused a rise in other shimmer drug lords which included your ex lover. You lived relatively comfortably with the cogs that they made from it, and now you’re struggling without them.

Yeah, maybe you do understand the Jinx hype in your own way. Though most people look up to her for pissing off Piltover, you feel like you can relate to her on a deeper level like no longer having someone to take care of you. 

‘Who am I kidding?’ you think bitterly, ‘I’m grasping at straws to have anything–no, anybody to relate to. I don’t know a damn thing about Jinx and her life.’ Now you are walking around feeling extra lonely than you are paranoid.

You pass by a pawn shop that you were sure was closed down. When you were younger, rumor had it that some ogre-like creature killed the shop owner. There was some back and forth about it actually being enforcers who killed him rather than some cryptid. Who knows? That was ages ago, and that shopkeeper is nothing but a name that most people have forgotten. If he was alive today, maybe he would have given you the cogs that you deserved for your high quality stuff. 

You felt yourself go cold when a figure stepped out from the shadows ahead. His face was obscured by a hood, but his posture screamed trouble—shoulders squared, stance wide, and a glint of something metallic surrounding his knuckles. Your shoes scrape against the floor as you come to a stop.

"That’s a nice little haul you’ve got there," he said, nodding toward your bag. His voice was low and rough, dripping with malice. Your legs tense up, wanting to run away. But this guy was not carrying anything, unlike you. He could catch up to you easily. 

Gravel and broken glass crunch under his boots as he walks towards you, a low chuckle coming from him.

"I don’t want any trouble," you said, keeping your tone even, though fear made your stomach churn.

He smirked, taking a slow step closer, "Then hand it over, and there won’t be any."

Your hand moved instinctively to your pocket, fingers wrapping around the blade’s handle. "I don’t think you want to do this," you said, hoping to sound more confident than you felt.

The man laughed, but his eyes darted to your pocket, catching the subtle motion. “A pretty thing like you wouldn’t know how to use whatever thing. you're hiding.”

“Try me.” You say, but your voice cracks. You try to hide it by clearing your throat, “You might find yourself surprised.”

 "I said, hand over the bag," he growled, tilting his head at you like he already owned it.

Your grip tightened on the switchblade in your pocket, your mind racing. Fighting him was a last resort—you weren’t sure you’d win, and even if you did, it could go south in so many ways. For a moment, the tension hung thick in the air, each of you waiting to see who would flinch first. But this moment of silence had you figure out that this man in front of you is full of shit. In other words, he’s all bark and no bite. If he wanted your stuff and was confident that you couldn’t defend yourself, he would have jumped on you by now.

“Threaten me again, and I’ll start yelling,” you say, finding your confidence, “I saw some enforcers a couple of streets away. They’ll hear me. I’ve got pipes.” You hope he buys your lie.

The man scoffs, “Enforcers wouldn’t care about a Zaunite screaming for hel–”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU SAW JINX?” you yell. The man flinches.

“H-hey! Wait–” he begins.

“WHAT? YOU KNOW WHERE SHE’S HIDING?!” you screech loud enough to hear yourself echo in an alleyway nearby.

He reaches his hand towards your face, probably in an attempt to shush you. Before he can touch you, you jump back and reveal your switchblade. A satisfying click comes from it as you hold the blade towards him. He puts his fists up, clutching onto the brass knuckles in his fist. However, he lacked confidence. His posture was very weak now, and he kept looking around for any signs of people approaching. The two of you shift around in a circle.

There was some sort of noise coming from down the street, which seemed to scare the man enough to look behind him. 

“Shit!” he whispers from under his breath. "Whatever," he muttered, his tough guy swagger cracking. "Keep your damn bag."

He shoulder checked you before he slinked away into the shadows, leaving you standing there, heart pounding and legs trembling. You would have waited until he was out of sight before making your own escape, but you had to get going before he realizes that you lied.

You’d managed to walk away unscathed this time, but the thought lingered in your mind as you hurried home: next time, you might not be so lucky. Your walking turned into a light jog, hearing nothing but your own heartbeat in your ears. You looked around desperately for any nook you could hide yourself in until you felt safe, but none of them seemed secure enough.

You suddenly felt a tap on your shoulder blade, making you yell out. You swing your arm, still holding the switchblade. 

Your blade cut through the air, barely missing its target as a hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. "Easy," came a low, familiar voice, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins drowned it out.

You twisted your arm, trying to free yourself from the grip. They dodged your next swing, their movements controlled, almost lazy, as if they were playing with you. You sweep one of your legs, tripping them. However, they manage to catch their balance because of their grip on your arm.

"Let go!" you snarled, lashing out with your free hand.

"Calm down, would you?" They grunted, catching your wrist again after it came in contact with their cheek. They then hold both of your arms firmly. "It’s me!"

You struggled, your breath ragged, your mind refusing to register their words. "Get off me, man!"

"Dammit, (Y/n), it’s Vi!" she snapped, her voice sharper now, the sound cutting through your panic like a blade. Your movements faltered, your heart still racing as you slowly opened your eyes, finally recognizing her under the dim light. The switchblade slipped from your fingers and clattered to the ground.

“Hey,” she says softly, shifting her weight as she slowly lets go of your arms.

Your knees felt weak, and you leaned back against the nearest wall, covering your face with your hands. "Shit," you muttered, shaking your head. "I—I didn’t know it was you."

Vi crouched down to pick up your blade. She examined it briefly before holding it out to you. "You’ve got a hell of a swing, though. Ah, but I have a tip for you: keep your eyes open next time.” She chuckles lightly as she rubs her cheek, looking at you and hoping to see if you’d laugh too. But you weren’t.

You don’t reply right away. You take your switchblade from her and retract the blade before putting it away. You slowly put your free hand to your chest, feeling your heartbeat. “What are you doing here?” you finally manage, your voice low and wary.

She takes a deep breath, “I… I came to apologize. For how I treated you. For what I said. I—I shouldn’t have taken my shit out on you.”

You blink, taken aback. Her words don’t feel rehearsed. Instead, they’re awkward and clumsy, but you can tell she means it.

“Why now?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at her. “You made it pretty clear last night how little you think of me.”

Vi winces, the sting of your words evident in her expression. “I didn’t mean it. Not a word,” she mutters, looking down at her boots. “I was pissed at myself and took it out on you. I know that doesn’t excuse it, but I just… I didn’t want to leave it like that.”

You study her for a moment, torn between giving her your back or shaking off the whole situation. A HUGE part of you was skeptical. This was not the first time you experienced something like this with someone else…

However, there’s something in her voice that made all the difference—a vulnerability that you only had one glimpse of before. You decide to test her.

You cross your arms, your posture stiff as you glance off to the side, “Why should I believe you?” you ask, your voice tight. “People always apologize to rid themselves of a guilty conscience. Not because they actually care.” You would know from personal experience…

Vi flinches but doesn’t back down. She walks over to stand in front of you, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care.”

You stay silent.

“(Y/n), please look at me.”

Slowly, your eyes meet hers. Her expression was soft, and this is the first time you’ve seen her without smeared makeup and dried blood all over her face.  

“I have not cared about anything for months,” she says, fighting the urge to put a hand on your shoulder, “I… The things I’ve been through. I thought I would never be able to feel anything other than pain and abandonment. Until I met you. I’m tired of fucking up, (Y/n). I’m tired of feeling like this. I truly want us to be friends.”

You study her face, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you see is raw honesty. It makes your chest tighten in a way you aren’t prepared for.

“I’ve heard those words before,” you say, your voice quieter now but still guarded, “from people who ended up proving me right.”

The look of hurt on Vi’s face was enough to make you feel bad about shutting her down like this. 

“Do you… still want to be friends with me?” she asks, finally breaking eye contact. She looked defeated, and on the inside she felt anger towards herself rising up.

You sigh, the weight of hesitation pressing against your chest. Testing her like this feels cruel, especially when you can see how much she’s trying, but a part of you can’t shake the fear of letting someone in again. Still, the idea of being alone with your thoughts, with the constant reminders of home, feels worse.

“You really think being friends with me is going to fix anything for you?” you ask, your voice is snappier than you intend, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability behind the words.

Vi looks at you again, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “I don’t think it’ll fix anything,” she admits, her tone steady but soft, “but maybe it’ll help. For both of us.”

A distraction. That’s what this could be. For her, for you. Maybe even for both of you.

You exhale slowly and finally meet her gaze, arms still crossed as you tilt your head slightly. You want to throw up from the rollercoaster of feelings you went through in less than ten minutes. 

“Let’s do it right this time.” You finally say. 

A small, relieved smile falls upon Vi’s face. It’s amazing how different she looks when all of her tension is gone. You blink a few times, not trying to make her uneasy with your staring. You’re still hesitant, still unsure, but for now, you let the wall between you drop just enough to let her in. Just enough to give you both something to hold on to.

You readjust your bag, resuming the walk back to your place. Vi stays put, unsure if she should follow. She wasn’t even sure where you were going. You look over your shoulder, stopping in your tracks. Vi, trying to stifle her burst of happiness, catches up to you.

“Wanna get a drink?” she asks.

“Tempting, but I have to drop my stuff off.” You pat your bag.

“The night is still young. We can go afterwards.” 

“Tempting, but my apartment is a long way from the strip. Don’t you have a fight to get to?”

Vi shakes her head, “Nah, I promised Loris that I’d give it a break today. Yesterday kind of took a toll on me.”

You snuck glances at Vi. There was a new bandage on the bridge of her nose that wasn’t there yesterday.

“You really took a beating, huh?” You ask. You mentally scold yourself for testing her once more, but you couldn’t help it. Your defenses really wanted to see if Vi would explode on you like she did last night. And if she does, then so be it. It would just feel outright shameful for you to have given her another chance so soon.

“It’s nothing. It’s all just a part of my job.” Vi said it in a tone that tried to play it off like it’s no big deal. Her ego was still very much bruised on the inside, and something about you witnessing that embarrassed her. Furthermore, she felt ashamed as the memories of taking it out on you and Loris (but mostly you) resurfaced. Before you can speak again, Vi says, “(Y/n), I know I already apologized for it, but I want to apologize again. That whole day was just terrible. I had a bad morning, drank a bit too much, and my head wasn’t in the game. I let a lot of people down, but I think you got the worst of it.”

“It’s alright, Vi,” you say, shrugging, though you aren’t entirely sure if it is. You can't shake the feeling that she's hiding more than she's letting on, but you don't press. “We all have our bad days.”

She snorts humorlessly. “Yeah, well, it was a shitshow. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. The day I was having shouldn’t have mattered. You didn't deserve that.” Vi kicks a small stone, watching it roll away. “I’m not asking for you to forgive me.”

“I… I was really pissed at you this morning,” you admit, your voice quiet. “I wanted to stay mad at you, keep up the distance, you know?” You pause and let out a shaky breath, feeling a sting in your chest. “But I can’t. I don’t think I have the right to be. I mean... everything you’ve been through, including the multitude of stuff I don’t know about, I think you’ve got more to be angry or sad about than I do.”

You find your thoughts turning inward. You’d been so quick to throw up walls with Vi, to hold onto the anger from last night, to remind yourself that it wasn’t justifiable for her to treat you the way she did. But as you watch her walk beside you, looking so much like the person you will call your new friend—vulnerable and trying—fills you with guilt. You feel like you haven’t been very fair to her.

Vi glances at you, the hard edge in her eyes softening. Vi shakes her head, the smile she gives you was the gentlest you’ve seen in a while from anyone. It’s almost like she's proud of you for letting that much out.

“Hey. Do not downplay your feelings like that,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically gentle, though still firm. “You don’t think you’re also going through a lot? Just ‘cause I’ve been taking hits from people doesn’t mean I get to shove all the stuff you’re dealing with into a corner.”

You walk a few paces in silence, the space between you comfortable for the first time today. It felt good to have someone acknowledge your pain. “Thank you, Vi.”

She runs a hand through her hair, definitely not used to hearing those words. She shrugs, but smiles as she does so. 

The lights have started to become less neon, less saturated. More softer yellow lights were around instead. Vi looked around at the somewhat nicer buildings. Even as a kid, Vi never really explored this part of Zaun. She looked at you curiously and put two and two together: you’re financially struggling. 

“So… how long have you been living in this area?” she asks, now following you instead of walking beside you.

“Ah, nearly four years.” You find your key before spotting your building.

Vi raised her eyebrows, a look of realization on her face. To test her theory, she asks “You got roomies?” 

You look back at her, wondering if you should lie. It’s not like Vi is a bad person, right? Should you tell her?

“...No,” you finally admit, voice soft. “I live alone.”

Vi’s eyebrows furrow, her lips pressing together in thought. “That can’t be easy,” she says, her tone careful, like she’s trying not to overstep. “This place… rent must be a lot.”

You simply hum in agreement, trying to play it off like it was nothing. You find your unit, unlocking the door and pausing. With your hand on the handle, you feel unsure if you should invite her in or not. The thought of someone else stepping into your space feels daunting—like giving her a glimpse of the parts of you you’ve been trying to keep hidden. This was way too soon. You clear your throat and look at Vi with a sheepish smile. 

“Uh, I know we just stitched back our newfound friendship, but I don’t think I’m ready for you to come into my apartment yet.” You then chuckle awkwardly.

Vi blinks, then lets out a breathy laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah, no, I get it. You’re not ready for me to see the tragic state of your apartment, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s actually clean, thank you very much.”

“Ah, so you’re the tragic mess, then?”

You stifle a laugh. At least this means she’s not upset with you for having her come all this way.

Vi then takes a step back, nodding in understanding. “No, I get it. I’m just happy that you’re back home safe. I should get going, then.” Vi turns on her heel and walks a few steps before looking back at you with a grin, “But now I know where you live, (Y/n), so you bet I’ll come looking for you if I don’t see you around.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” you laugh, opening your door ajar.

“Whatever scares you more.” She teases.

Guilt tugs at you. She’d walked all this way with you, and now she’s walking off. You don’t even know if she’s going to go home or if she’s going to go drink by herself. You can see Vi hesitate again, and she turns around to face you once more. 

“You sure you don’t wanna just say screw it and go straight to the bar? No bags, no rules, no complications.”

The suggestion almost tempts you, but you shake your head. “As much as that sounds like a perfect disaster, I’ve got to at least pretend like I’ve got my shit together for a few minutes.”

Vi hums, rocking back on her heels. “Fine, fine. I’ll be a patient, responsible friend for once.”

You snort and push your door open just enough to toss your bag inside before pulling it shut again. “There. My responsible moment of the night.”

“So, drinks?” she asks after a beat, her usual brashness returning as she gives you a sideways glance. You can tell that she’s trying not to show her excitement too much.

You chuckle despite yourself. “Yeah, drinks. Let’s just... take it slow, okay?”

And just like that, the night stretches ahead of you—uncertain, but a little less lonely than before.

*

The bar is packed, the low hum of conversations mixing with the distant bass of the music. Vi leads the way, navigating through the crowd with the ease of someone who’s been here more times than she can count. You follow closely, the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke thick in the air. Your feet were killing you from all the walking you did today, and sadly there were no seats open at the bar. 

Just as the two of you step in line to order some drinks, a voice calls out from behind you two.

“Well, well. If it isn’t everyone’s favorite frontrunner.”

Vi tenses beside you. It’s subtle, but you catch the way her shoulders draw up just slightly before she forces herself to relax. When she turns around, her expression is already set: a lazy smirk, cocky tilt of her head, the perfect facade. 

The guy who spoke leans against a nearby table, drink in hand, eyes flicking over her with barely concealed amusement. You recognize those thick forearms. Next to him is the agile woman from the other night, leaning against him with her hand on his chest. 

Vi exhales sharply through her nose. Her eyes darted between the two of them. “And you two are…?”

“That’s cute. You forget who we are? Or did we knock your noggin around too hard?”

Your eyes flick to Vi. She’s good at hiding it, but there’s something restrained in the way she stands, like she’s fighting the urge to react. You nudge Vi, already feeling protective over your barely-established friendship. “Just ignore them, Vi.”

The guy looks at you then, really looks, like he’s only just now realizing you’re part of the equation. His face twists into a smirk. “You got yourself an accessory?”

Vi steps in before you can answer, her voice flat. “Not everyone needs a floozy by their side,” she sneers, glancing at the lady beside him. The woman’s face wrinkles in anger. The man growls, slamming his drink down on his table before standing up straight. It was loud enough to make the ambience pause for a split second. When he takes a step towards you two, Vi takes a step forward, guiding you behind her with her arm.

“Hey, man,” the four of you turn to the bartender, yelling out, “Save it for the ring, or all of you are getting kicked out!”

The brute huffs, backing off. He returns to his table and his woman, picking his drink back up. He tips his drink toward Vi in some mock gesture of acknowledgment. “Next time, try to stay on your feet, Vi. I don’t think anybody finds you capable of walking a straight line in general.”

Vi growls, “I was wanting a rematch anyways!” She takes two aggressive steps towards him before you grab her by her arm and pull her back. “It’s not worth it, Vi. Come on.”

The man and woman laugh, then the woman speaks up, “Is she your new parole officer or something?”

“Say that again!” Vi barks, those words striking a nerve. You dig your heels into the ground as you try to keep Vi from taking another step, but holy hell this girl is a tank.

“Vi, just leave them! Come on,” you practically begged. Vi kept her eyes glued to the couple before letting you lead her away.

You drag her to the furthest end of the bar area away from her previous opponents.

“Sorry, (Y/n). I made us lose our place in line.” Vi sighs, still visibly upset.

“Don’t worry about that. You okay?” you ask, voice low.

Vi lets out a breath, rolling her shoulders like she’s shaking something off. That wasn’t exactly a yes or a no. What about their words triggered her so much?

“Ignore them, they’re stupid,” you say with a little laugh, trying to lighten her mood. Her face is still tense, and she’s not even looking at you. You notice how her jaw stays tight, her fingers flexing like she’s itching to throw a punch. The tension in her shoulders hasn’t eased one bit, and it doesn’t sit right with you. You could keep talking, try to get her to open up, but something tells you she doesn’t want to dwell on it.

So, instead, you do the next best thing. You move.

You sway a little, rolling your shoulders to the beat, then step in front of Vi, moving in sync with the music. At first, she doesn’t react, still caught in the storm of her own thoughts, but you don’t stop. You let yourself loosen up, exaggerating your movements just enough to catch her eye. A huge part of you feels stupid and awkward. It’s been a few years since you went out to dance at a club, and it probably would come more naturally to you if you already had a drink in your system.

She finally looks at you. “The hell are you doing?”

“Dancing. Duh!”

You can see Vi trying not to smile. “That’s a very interesting dance you got going on there.”

“Dance interestingly with me!” you grab her arm and pull her to the dance floor. The strobe lights should mask any further awkward dance moves you do. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Vi mutters, but there’s a smirk playing at her lips now.

“Maybe,” you say, shooting her a wink, "but at least I’m fun.”

She begins to dance too, and her willingness to participate catches you off guard. “You really don’t look like the dancing type!” 

“Just because I throw hands doesn’t mean I can’t dance,” she counters, getting closer to you so she doesn’t lose you in the crowd and the flashing lights.

But even as the two of you dance the rest of the night away, you can’t shake the feeling that whatever happened in that fight last night—whatever’s still sitting in Vi’s chest—hasn’t been left in the ring.

End of Ch. 5

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4

Ch. 6 (IN PROGRESS)

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Taglist Cupcakes: @ren-ren23 @captain-crabbo @baylegend6 @winchestergirlspn @charcoal-heart @brbaabs

half a dozen cupcakes right thereeee^ YAY! My bakery grows >:3

[ashdreams2023]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request a Severus Snape x older sister reader? We know Sev is like a grouchy and independent person, I kinda want to see him turn into an attention seeking little baby when it comes to his older sister lol. Like imagine Dumbledore and McGonagall's shock when they see Sev whining to a woman who they don't recognize (I was thinking she didn't go to Hogwarts and went to another magical school) They didn't even know Sev has any siblings whatsoever. So basically reader visits Severus in Hogwarts (he's already a professor) She hasn't seen him in a couple of years due to her profession or something. Reader still sees Sev as her baby brother she used to take care of.

Finally gotten to this one! I was actually dying to do this it’s so cute!

Severus snape x big sister reader

Sevy

Everyone knew not to cross their professors at hogwarts, especially the intimidating potions master, severus snape, the most feared professor in the school.

Even the older professors had a great deal of respect for the young professor.

"Honestly I can’t believe he didn’t even give me one chance to correct myself!?" One hufflepuff groaned to his friend, no one was safe from severus on a bad day, even his brightest students.

"Drop it mate, you can make up for it in the next pop test-"

"Hey boys, do you know where Professor snape office is?" The two teenagers stopped in their tracked and looked at the woman speaking to them.

You smiled in a friendly manner at them and repeated your question, one of them pointed at the end of the hall. The dungeons, that figures.

"Thank you boys" The two stared at you as you walked away.

"Who is she and why is she looking for snape?"

"Who knows, but I pity her regardless…"

Meanwhile after some walking you ended up finding the office, you looked at the time table hung on the wall, his office hours were still open.

You grinned to yourself and walked.

Albus and minerva waited and waited, it was unlike severus to miss their daily meeting after lunch but here they were alone with each other’s company for the past thirty minutes.

"You don’t think something came up, don’t you albus?"

"I’m not quite sure dear Minerva but we ought to go check on him"

The two older professors took a long and silent walk down to the dungeons, where they knew he spent most of his time and knocked on his door but no answer.

"Could he have went to do some errands?"

"In the middle of a school day? That’s very unlike him…"

"The greenhouse perhaps?" The wise witch suggested. The headmaster hummed before leading the way up to the greenhouse.

They had expected a lot but what they witnessed wasn’t what they had anticipated for.

"I swear to god sevy you need to learn how to grow your own stuff, you’re a potion master" you sighed plucking one of the plants in the very back of the greenhouse with severus kneeling down near an empty plant pot.

"You know i can’t do it right! See they keep dying on me" Severus whined gesturing to the broken pots in the corner of the place.

The headmaster and vise duty stared in disbelief, severus snape was pouting, he was whining and acting unlike his stock self.

"I’ve taught you a million times, the soil have to be the right kind, you can’t expect your big sissy to be here to help you all the time"

"I know I know, I’m not a baby anymore" he got up and dusted himself off then cringed childishly when you started wiping the dirt stuck on his face "Stop!"

"No! Hold still, just because you got taller doesn’t mean you can go around looking like we still live in rags"

Albus coughed in his fist catching the attention of both adults.

"Oh hi! Sorry to intrude, I was just helping sevy here learn how to plant a practical plant for his potion making"

"And you are?" Asked the older witch.

Severus cleared his throat spoke "This is my older sister headmaster, Minerva" the two professors looked dumbfounded by the news, severus never mentioned having a sibling and a witch at that!

"But wait…why haven’t you attended hogwarts with severus?" Albus was curious to say the least.

"Well, to make short I asked mother to go to another school because my passion for herbology couldn’t be fulfilled in hogwarts you see, so I went to Uagadou"

Severus looked down at you with settle pride, you have achieved so much throughout the years and he looked up to you, you’ve become a great scientist and made some big discoveries across the globe, many may not know your face but your stage name was to be hold.

"Anyways I came to visit sevy, it’s been so long since I saw this big baby" you laughed, he huffed pretending to be offended and pushed your arm to knock you off balance.

"Hey! Don’t test me boy! I used to change your diapers!" You pointed a finger at him.

He crossed his arms and pulled out his tongue at you.

Albus felt amused seeing the two siblings bicker but minerva chuckled, severus for once didn’t seem so uptight and proper, but rather…dare she say relaxed?

"I think you should join us to tea, I’ll love to hear your side of things, my dear son severus doesn’t speak much of his life back home"

You smirked "Oh do I have stories for you, and I think you’ll especially would enjoy the river one"

Severus’s cheeks flushed red before he ground covering his face in embarrassment "I beg you, stop making life harder!"

You didn’t care what he say and that afternoon was spent with everyone having tea and listening to your embarrassing stories about the eventful childhood in spinner’s end.

"Do you just enjoy humiliating me?"

"Oh sevy, relax you I do it because I care"

"I doubt it"

"You’re welcome"

[amityahasfanartnowapparently]

That Time Fox's Fat Tits Saved The Galaxy - Chapter 8 - Amity Ax - (INTRO ONLY)

Hello! Chapter 8 is still very very VERY much in progress, but I got inspired to release the first two pages early. Think of it as an early holiday present :D

If you'd rather save it for when the whole chapter is out on ao3, DON'T look under the cut ;)

Also DISCLAIMER: this intro is liable to change at some point while I'm editing everything else. And consider all the tags in my fic applicable to this post too. You've been warned.

DroidBoy6969:

ok, like, I get why everybody is talking about the tits. I really do. don’t get me wrong, they’re great tits!! but that ass needs some appreciation too! Just LOOK at it! the MUSCLES, the ROUNDNESS, the TIGHT AS KARK PANTS—it has EVERYTHING

TallMannSpotted:  @DroidBoy6969 YESSS I want to be those pants <3 <3 <3

whats_love090992:  @DroidBoy69 if this is a non-tits appreciation post, I’d like to give an honorable mention to the arms and back. Hot damn. I want him to pick me up and snap me in half like a 2x4. And that v-line in the front… *chef’s kiss* Perfect. Phenomenal. Breathtaking.

xXx_R4nc0rD3str0y3r_xXx: @DroidBoy6969 get out of here butt boy this is a tit-man only site!!!!

[See 21938451 more replies]

Unfortunately_YourMother:

everyone unfollow me right now this is going to be the only thing I’m gonna post about from now on. fuck. shit. Ohmygawdzzz

kenobis_glistening_abs444:

HUGE W for the war effort that this absolute UNIT be out here serving the people, if u know what I mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )

KittyqueeN:

No joke, I just clocked out for like an hour watching this guy run on repeat. the kriffing bounce is like… hypnotic. Literal drool down my face rn. I can feel the heft of those bonkers in my SOUL

dontlookatme.:

b…boobies…

cock_expert_420001:

Look, I’ll pay any amount, PLEASE more content like this @TheRepublic. I could feel myself becoming roughly 50% more patriotic just watching this compilation

ZDprofessional:

YESSS YES YES YEEEAAAS!!! OHHH MY GODS. OH MY GODDSSS BROOOOO!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I ALSDGJDkjfifherALSDGJKHAG GRRRRRR!!!!! GRRRARRAARRRGRGRG! BRGRGRGRaaaAAAAAARRAR!GGRRGAA! I’M CRAZZY IM CRAZY IM CRAZY. YOU HAVE NO IDEAA YOU HAVE NO IDEA!!!!!!! sorry ok. I’m normal now. cool tits.

NautilaRulz:  @ZDprofessional Dude.

TiLeavesComments:  @ZDprofessional somebody get this fine gentlebeing some water. they’re about to die of Thirst

RyurayguYuhahyrrararr:  @ZDprofessional rabies core

[See 103020 more replies]

H00tH00tMutherfarker:

I can’t believe this is real. What are they FEEDING this one to make knockers like that??? He’s got some Enormous Boobs. Absolutely Perfect Pecs. A Rockin’ Pair of Hooters. A Prize-Winning Set of Black Melons. Some Tasty Teats. A Couple of Family-Sized Milk Jugs. Some Bountiful Baps. Some Gorgeous Gazoingas…[read more]

JustSomeGuy:

Listen, I get that everybody is horny about this, but I’d like to say that this trooper is like, actually NUTS. I went back to the OG video and timed it, he was in a dead sprint for like a full HOUR. The next time you’re out of breath climbing the stairs, remember this man’s existence and weep in shame. 

NotMyOrder:

Clones really do be built different…

Drgahamne14156994:

Hello, I’m Dr. Garm Hamne. I’m a doctor from Corellia and earn 600k annually. I’m looking for a sugar baby who…[read more]

TheCommenterrrrrr:

Screaming crying throwing up I need him to choke me

FoShadeDingKing!!:

Damn where do I gotta go to spend the night with one of those

RRoller:

This is fake. You bantha-brained morons are falling for a government plant. This has sphotoshop written all over it.

N3varG0naGiv3:  @RRoller It’s OK bro, just count backwards from 10 while you inhale the copium. It’ll be over in a snap :)

U_Up?:  @RRoller because that’s what I’D do if I was trying to sphotoshop a government-approved thirst trap into looking so good it brainwashes the minds of millions. I’d make the trooper running laps in the back of the vid busty enough to belong in an art museum instead of using editing magic to make the group of buff, sweaty men duking it out in the foreground look like living gods. what a totally reasonable conclusion you’ve come to 

Nvr_Gn4_Letudwn:  @RRoller bruh just grow up and admit you wanna fuck him so bad it makes you looks stupid XD

[See 348079 more replies]

[augustghosts]

Stewy Hosseini x female reader fic that i once again have no title for

SEEEEE i told you i was gonna write this. Part 2 of this but you can defo read it alone! This took me months because I’ve been busy getting fired from two jobs in a row and losing my mind but i’m kinda back <3

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ pls because this is smuuuuuut - Apparently I can't help myself. Fem reader. Oral and pinv, the usual. A little bit of angst and jealousy. Final warnings are my bad writing and no proofreading because I'm lazy.

The same hotel bar, the same stool and the same eyes watching you from across the room. 6 months later, this time a birthday party. Apparently this place is a popular party destination among the rich and boring. Although now, it is associated with a night you would rather forget. You and Stewy ghosting each other after that night was not something either of you intended. He’s busy, you know that. But you can’t help but feel some resentment as you look over at him. Maybe because of the ghosting, but it’s definitely not because of the girl he’s talking to. The girl who’s currently caressing his arm and looking into his eyes a little too intently as he talks. She laughs loudly and you cringe, your fingers tightening on the wine glass in your hand. What could he possibly be saying? He’s not that funny. You shake your head with a sigh at the thought, because - fuck, he is that funny. He’s made you laugh like that a million times.

Eventually you decide enough is enough, you gather your things and make a conscious effort not to look over at where Stewys and his new friends are sitting. You say your goodbyes to the birthday girl, someone you’ve only met once and she looks at you like she couldn’t care less whether you live or die. Rich and boring. Whipping out your phone to order a car and mentally preparing yourself to stand in the cold and wait for it takes all of your attention, so you miss the fact that someone had noticed you leaving and followed you out. You jump out of your skin at the footsteps behind you and whirl around ready to face the culprit. Whatever obscenities you were about to throw at the ghost that had snuck up on you got caught in your throat as you’re faced with a pair of familiar brown eyes.

“Jesus,” Stewy says. The corner of his mouth twitches with a smile, although he looks just as shocked as you. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you, I thought you heard me.”

“Well I didn’t.” You say, your hand still glued to your chest - your heart racing.

“Sorry.” He repeats. His smile falters when he realizes you aren’t as happy to see him as he is to see you.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” You ask, looking over his shoulder. You regret it as soon as it leaves your mouth because it sounds so fucking childish, also because the way he grins at you makes you want to slap him.

“Who?” He smiles. He knows exactly who you’re talking about. Despite talking to her all night, his eyes have been on you. Watching you angrily glance over at him. He wasn’t even interested in her, in all honesty, and a part of him feels bad for wasting her time all night. But a bigger part of him was getting a kick out of making you jealous. He just can’t help himself.

“No girlfriend.” He says when you don’t respond, you just roll your eyes and look back down at your phone. He peeks over your shoulder at what you’re doing and boldly tries to take your phone out of your hand. “No need for that, I'll give you a ride home.”

“Hey!” You hold your phone out of his reach and scoff a ‘no thank you’.

“Why not? Come on, I'm on my way out and I’m not leaving you standing out in the cold waiting for some creep to come pick you up.” His warm hand wraps around your elbow as he speaks. You’re a goner, you want to let him drive you home - or let his driver drive you home. You want that girl to see you get in the car with him and you can’t help but think about his hands wandering in the back seat. He watches you with a grin as you wrack your brain, trying to come up with an excuse to say no. But alas, one doesn’t come. It’s like your brain short circuited when he touched you - so ridiculous.

“Fine.” You say, letting him pull you towards his vehicle.

“Wow,” He laughs. “You gave up easily, I expected more of a fight.”

“I can still change my mind,” You stop in your tracks. “You can take your new girlfriend home instead.”

“Shut up.” He mumbles, his arm moving to wrap protectively around your waist this time as he guides you to the car. Fuck, what were you doing? Why does he always have this effect on you? But little do you know, he’s thinking the same fucking thing. He came here tonight hoping he wouldn’t see you. There was a quick second where he actually did think about taking the other woman home. But one look at you and he knew he couldn’t do it, it’s always been you for him. No one compares.

“So, yours?” He asks once you're both in the car, after he gallantly opened the door for you and helped you step into the vehicle. You nod, and the car ride is uncharacteristically silent. He doesn’t really know what to say and he knows you’ve always felt awkward speaking in front of random drivers. You much prefer it when he drives, unfortunately he didn’t know at the beginning of the night that he would be in a car with you. He would have happily sacrificed drinking to drive here in an expensive car and show off to you.

When the car stops outside your familiar apartment you both linger awkwardly.

“Am I allowed in?” He asks, his cheeky smile almost breaking your stoic act.

“No.” You say, opening the door and stepping out. You’re lucky that he knows you so well, that he recognises your sarcasm and could tell by the look in your eyes that you wanted him to follow you.

Stewy fishes for his wallet in his pocket and hands way too much money to the confused driver. “Don’t wait. Thanks, man.”

He practically jumps out of the car and races into the building, finding you waiting for him by the elevator. There’s suddenly an awkwardness in the air, neither of you wanting to address the ghosting after sex six months ago. The elevator is moving way to fucking slowly and you finally decide to just ask.

“Why didn’t you call?”

Stewy sighs, suddenly he feels like the elevator is way to small and moving way to fucking slowly.

“Why didn’t you?” Is all he can come up with. Stupid, he thinks. He doesn’t have an excuse so his immediate response is to get defensive. Fortunately, you recognise this in him.

“I was just asking.” You mumble. “Thought you might want to tell me about your girlfriend.”

Stewy, who was previously leaning against the elevator wall in an embarrassingly attractive way, stands up straight and throws his hands in the air.

“Will you drop it?” He asks, his voice sounds louder than he intended it to be. The small elevator that he suddenly feels trapped in making his voice echo off the walls. “I don’t have a fucking girlfriend and I don’t know why i didn’t call you. I just didn’t, okay?”

The bell that sounds as the doors slide open makes him jump and he’s the first to leave. You follow silently, suddenly wishing you hadn’t got into his car. He walks to your apartment door, knowing the way like the back of his hand.

“Why did you come? Because, honestly I’m confused.” You ask him as you reach the door. Standing in front of him, he’s so much taller than you but you force yourself to look into his eyes as you speak. “I assumed you didn’t call because you didn’t want to do this again. That’s the vibe you gave me. Now you’re following me home and arguing with me in the elevator. Why are you here?”

“Fuck-i, can you open the door?” He hesitates, looking around down the empty corridor.

“No.” You stand your ground. “Why are you here?”

“Because-“ He starts to speak but, fuck. He’s too much of a pussy to tell you he loves you. That he still loves you. So he does what he does best and kisses you instead. Your first instinct is to push him away and keep arguing. Demand an answer. But he’s so good at this, he makes it so easy to forget why you’re even mad at him. All that matters is that he’s here in front of you. Kissing you in front of your door and murmuring against your lips about opening the door.

You do as he asks, pulling away from his lips and fishing for your key. Once the door swings open you grasp his shoulders and pull him into the room, your lips meet him again and he slams the door behind you both. He grasps your hips to push you up against the door, smiling against your lips as you whine into his mouth. No, you had to tell him what you wanted to say.

“I thought you didn’t want me, or that you regretted it.” You pull away from his lips to blurt out. He looks surprised at first, but his eyes soften and you sense something else, guilt? He doesn’t know how to respond, god knows he’s never been good at talking about feelings. But god also knows that he’s damn good at showing them.

“Does this feel like I don't want you?” He asks, his voice drops into that deliciously low growl that you love. He pushed his hips into you, his erection pressing against your thigh. “Of course I don’t regret it. Not you.”

You smile up at him, he always knows what to say - and whether you believe it or not, it works.

“How about I show you how much I want you?” He whispers in your ear. “I’ve always dreamed about bending you over in front of this window. We can show the whole city how much I want you. How about that?”

You blush as he gestures to the floor to ceiling windows, the sprawling city underneath. Holy shit. Your words fail you as you look over his shoulder at the window. Although it sounds hot, you can’t help but be embarrassed at the thought of being seen. Although you’re several floors up from the busy streets below, someone might still look up at the right moment and get lucky.

“Come on.” He grins down at you, enjoying seeing you speechless. Leading you over to the couch, his hands make quick work of your dress and he shrugs off his own jacket. God, you always loved seeing him in just a button up shirt - the first few buttons undone like they are now. His hair is slightly messy. All he needed to do was roll up his sleeves a little and you’d be a goner.

His lips find yours again, his hands cradling your face as he kisses you as only an expert knows how. He places one final and playful kiss onto your lips before he grabs your shoulders and maneuvers you down onto the couch. Once you're seated he sinks down to his knees and you groan as he pushes up his fucking sleeves, sometimes you swear that he’s a mind reader.

He lifts one of your legs up, pressing a kiss to your ankle before resting your knee on his shoulder. He starts at your thighs - gentle kisses, his eyes watching you closely.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty baby.” He all but groans before he finally dives in, the first gentle sweep of his tongue has you leaning your head back against the couch with a sigh. He’s so skilled, it kind of pisses you off. You writhe and use his thumbs to gain access to your clit. His big brown eyes watching you all the while as he does everything he knows you love.

He thinks you look gorgeous, he always does, but never as much as you do right now. Your hands find his hair as a car horn from outside catches your attention. You almost forgot that he was eating you out on a couch in front of a huge window and it makes you laugh. He glances up at the sound of your breathy giggle and smirks against your skin.

He incorporates his fingers, expertly pressing into that spot inside of you that is guaranteed to finish the job. Though he holds off, slows down and takes his time. Reveling in your moans and whines as he slowly brings you to the edge.

There was something the both of you found painfully addictive about each other, and neither of you had figured it out yet. You wonder if you ever would. He loves seeing you fall apart for him, loves having you mewling at the end of his tongue. He works you gently through your orgasm, his mouth feeling like home around your swollen clit. He pulls away from you with a grin, dramatically wiping his mouth with the back of his hand - his tongue dipping out to further taste you when he licks his lips.

He stands up, towering over you as he rids himself of his shirt. You sit up, your hands flying to help him with his belt as he sheds the rest of his clothes. He climbs on top of you, you’re trapped underneath him on the couch - there's nowhere else you’d rather be. You’re suddenly thankful that you were able to afford a decent sized piece of furniture, because as awkward as sex on a couch is, it would be worse on a small one.

“Should we go to bed?” You ask, a last ditch attempt. His eyes travel to the window and you can see him thinking about it.

“No.” He finally answers. “I’ve been desperate to fuck you all night.”

He ends his sentence by taking his hard cock into his hand and lining himself up with your entrance.

“All night?” You tease. “Even while-“

“Yes, even while I was talking to my girlfriend.” He cuts you off, anticipating the joke long before you had even thought it up.

“Oh? So now she is your girlfriend?”

You’re annoying him, but the smile on your face and the way you’re laughing makes him smile back and laugh with you. He decides to shut you up, by sliding his fingers into your mouth. Your eyes widen but you take them easily- sliding your tongue over his fingers.

“Good girl.” He mumbles as he slides his now wet fingers out of your mouth and brings them down to your clit, pressing slow circles into it as he pushes into you. He holds still for a moment, his forehead dropping to press against yours. You grasp at his face as he starts to move, pulling his face down to yours so that you can sloppily kiss him as he fucks you.

He knows you inside out, making it look effortless as he makes you feel better than anyone else ever had. He’s talking you through it, whispering dirty things into your neck but you can hardly hear him over your own whimpers. He keeps up his pace, his lips are at your ear now - calling you beautiful, telling you how good your pussy feels and how much he loves hearing you moan his name.

“Fuck, i can feel you baby.” He moans, his skilled fingers slide down to your clit again.

“I’m so close.” You whine, you feel his hips stutter. Knowing he’s close too. You’re walls squeezing him - pulling him to the edge along with you.

“Come on baby.” He groans. “Come for me.”

You cling to his shoulders as you ride out your release, his name leaving your lips as if it's the only word you know. He carries on for a few more thrusts before he tenses and stills. Filling you up deliciously and equally beautiful moans of your name reaches your ears. Suddenly everything is calmer, your thumping heart beat and Stewy’s heavy breaths are the only sounds.

He slips out of you and sits up on the couch, helping you sit up next to him. You reach down for his shirt, suddenly feeling exposed - sitting naked on the couch. If you were in bed you could have pulled the covers over you, but his shirt that smells like his expensive cologne is just as good.

“So, are you gonna call this time?” You joke, breaking the ice.

“I don’t know.” He answers. “I might go home and call my new girlfriend instead.”

You look at him in pretend shock, pulling away halfheartedly when he reaches for you. You both laugh as he pulls you into his chest, his heart still hammering against your ear - his warm hands traveling up and down your back. You love him. That's the conclusion you’ve come to after tonight. So, what the fuck are you supposed to do now?

[saleeba]

comforting jules in these hard times :(( (with a bj ;))

summary ♡ what the request says! 

pairing ♡ jules koundé x gn!reader

content ♡ 18+, smut, blowjob, (untranslated) french terms of endearment, religious undertones for some reason, not proofread, hopefully quite lovey-dovey idek this was so rushed 😭

a/n ♡ hiiii my first little snippet!! these are generally going to be short ask-based fics that are one scene/one action + i hope to share more with u guys! :D tysmmm anon for this request i hope it lives up to ur expectations!!

the copious amount of condescending headlines about his football club was creating a frenzied commotion in the world of spanish sports media and jules found it difficult to dull the noise. add on top the emotional stress of his manager’s departure from the club and it was enough to make a boy like him break into a million pieces. 

yet you were like his superglue. you held him together with the mere thought of your presence in his mind and the nights spent tangled between the sheets and gasping promises of forever grounded jules to the best version of reality for him.

this night was no different, you trying your best to make it all about him (not that it was hard — you were practically devoted to the boy) after he came home close to tears, the burdensome weight of work troubles proving heavy on his shoulders. he was never one to let his professional life trespass into his personal one but you made it clear from day one that you were both a team and that yes, it may be “his problem”  but you were both going to jump over those hurdles hand-in-hand.

and the first approach in which you consoled him was with the help of your lips on his bare, sweaty skin, not sure if the subtle dampness was from a session in training or the way his skin always warmed up to the feeling of your mouth; the feeling of familiarity and of what just felt right. 

“please don't tease tonight, baby,” jules whispered in a tone close to begging, body writhing on the couch, his voice desperate for that same familiarity to save him from losing himself in the uncertainty that had tainted the past few days.

“not even thinking about it, jules,” you tongued at his abdomen on your way down to the waist of his shorts, fingers running inside the elastic band and skimming the part where he needed you the most. “wanna take good care of you tonight.”

a blissful sigh escaped from the parting of jules’ lips as you peeled the material off of him and cast it aside, the only thing left between you and his pure form being the pesky boxers that constrained his cock. not wanting to rush the events of the night, you go to mouth kisses on the imprint and the damn thing twitches, tip jerking ever so slightly as it leaks pre-cum onto the black cotton softness. 

“what was that about not even thinking about teasing, chérie?” he whined, hips raising in demand for you to do both of you a favour and free him from the restriction.

“i’m sorry, baby… can’t help myself, it looks so pretty like that,” you put on your best, prettiest pout and ran your fingertips down his length. “promise i’ll be good for you now.”

you finally granted him freedom and the way you quickly pulled down the set of underwear had the two of you so eager, your lips immediately came to wrap around half of his cock, the engulfing feeling sending jules’ mind into what he considered a premature frenzy. 

“s-slow down, baby,” he stuttered, hands gripping onto the sides of your head to pull you back to his tip where you suckled like a woman parched, unable to allow yourself to let him go completely. jules was addictive in every sense and the way his dick slid down your throat was even more so. you’d burned every part of him into your mind, making sure it was all unforgettable, all something you could never tire of.

“mm-hmm.” your response was muffled as you effectively ignored your boyfriend’s pleas, mouth taking more of him in, back and forth on repeat as the stiffness slid down your throat. it wasn’t an easy feat since the thickness of jules’ cock was siding on the extraordinary but your mouth was drenched, spit running down your chin and over the skin of your chest as the movement of your head over him became much more rapid.

jules was near to bursting, fingers gripping onto the leather of the sofa as he couldn't help but push his hips further towards you which only brought his dick further into your mouth, the weeping head barging at the opening of your throat. he wanted to grip your head in his hands – as leverage, as control, as a means to get as close to you as possible – but was scared to do so due of his iron-strong hold and the way your tongue traced that one vein on the underside of his dick, oh god, it was heaven—no, it was beyond that. you were his salvation, his saving grace, his angel come to earth; you were so, so good to him and he didn’t think he deserved you. but you were always there to shoot that idea down; it was always a collaboration with the two of you, you were always equals and you were always going to be. 

“i‘m gonna cum, mon ange,” your raven-haired lover whined, back arching as you continued your assault on his sensitive dick, lips reaching all the way to his pubic bone as his balls slapped against your chin with force, head motioning up and down, down and up, any which way to make jules flood your throat with that subtly-salty fluid. “oh my god, baby, please, please.” 

there was no way you were relenting now, the sounds coming from jules only giving you the motivation to bring your hands to his thighs and push your tongue out, his cock still in your mouth, aiming to caress it with the wet muscle and rip his orgasm from him in a matter of milliseconds. 

and that’s exactly what you achieved; a myriad of sweet moans from your boyfriend as he came down your throat, the mixture of clear spittle and milky-white cum threatening to spill out from your filled mouth but you drank it all up with his dick still between your lips, even managing to swallow as you moved back so that only the tip remained wrapped with the swollenness of them. 

“was that good?” you asked sincerely once you had pulled off of his softening length and stood up before pressing the most tender of kisses to his lips which parted in sheer satisfied exhaustion. 

“good? it was more than that, baby, fuck,” he let out a breathless laugh, grabbing your face to pull your mouth to his once again, the motion more hungry than before. “you make me forget about all that’s wrong, my love, thank you, thank you…” 

you couldn’t help but let out a giggle and an aww, a promise of always being there to take care of him on your lips and he was more than appreciative.

“let me take care of you now, bébé. my girl deserves it. please?”

[subskz]

Imagine Minho being a brat. You're leaving kisses on his chest, while fingering him and (even though he enjoys your sweet kisses) he keeps demanding more, keeps commanding you, keeps complaining that you're not doing a good job. "Fuck- not like that- faster, go faster". And you, being a pretty patient person, decide to indulge him. But Minho keeps up his act. "I said- shit- i said faster- nngh- are you doing a bad job on purpose?" You know he doesn't mean these words, he's just teasing and you're too focused on kissing him to respond anyway, BUT! Your silence is just making him want to keep up his attitude.

"A-are you serious? You know what, just stop. Do something useful and bring me a dildo so that i can get the job done myself."

You knew damn well what he's trying to do. He's saying those things, wanting to rile you up, so that you fuck him harder and show him that he's wrong. Well, you're going to do the exact opposite. You stop your movements and look at him. "Does it really not feel good?" you ask, looking at him with a serious expression on your face. Minho didn't expect that reaction, he expected you to get mad and talk back, so he stayed silent for a moment. Then you started getting up from the bed.

"What- where are you going??" You had to keep yourself from smiling at his panicked voice.

"Umm...to get you a dildo? Like you asked me to?" The look on his face after that was priceless. You wish you knew what's going on in his head right now.

"N-no- i was just- i didn't-" he couldn't believe his plan backfired like that and now, in order to get you to touch him again, to make him feel the way that no other person or toy ever could, he has to swallow his pride and apologize. Watching him avoiding looking at you, struggling to find the right words and the way he's rubbing his thighs together, those pretty thighs shaking, begging for your touch...

English is not my first language, so excuse me if i made any mistakes🫢

no worries at all your english is perfect! 😭 and so is this ask hehe you wrote it so wonderfully~

i absolutely love the idea of besting minho by not falling for his bratty behavior like he wants you to. instead you can break him without even having to lift a finger, treating him softly no matter how much he mouths off until he realizes that all his lil mindgames won’t work on you. it’s honestly cute that he’s too shy to ask you to fuck him harder so he has to resort to provoking you like that, but only way for him to really get what he wants is to spit it out like a good boy 🥰 it makes it a million times more humiliating for him that you don’t even have to be rough to mess up his act and get him begging for you

kissing all over his chest and pretty collarbones while he secretly basks in all your attention <3 i firmly believe lino is weak for having his chest played with so feeling your warm lips press against his pecs and brush over his nipples would heighten the pleasure of you fingering him even more. he hates how it gets harder and harder for him to focus when every pump of your fingers feels so intensely good, like a jolt of electricity passing through his entire body that he can’t get enough of

“are you doing a bad job on purpose?” god u nailed his insufferable antics 😭 he thinks he’s sooo clever trying to cover up how badly he wants more by pretending it doesn’t feel good. poor kitty doesn’t know how to handle it when you see right through his challenge and suddenly he has nothing smart to say anymore~

his thick gorgeous thighs rubbing together so obviously and his pouty face watching you so helplessly would be such a perfect sight. you know you’ve got him right where you want him when he starts squirming around in the sheets, mumbling and stuttering bc he’s so caught off guard. the way “sorry” and “please” sound on his tongue when he finally musters up the courage to murmur them would be so sweet…you can’t help but make him repeat it over n over again before taking pity on him as payback for him being such a fussy brat who can’t use his words properly <3