#the only thing about it is that it’s going to be SO ANNOYING to grow out

[crushpunky]

paparazzi catches actress!reader’s baby bump

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this is based off an ask that i thought was just too cute to pass up and takes place in the distant future lol. as far as fics go, this is probably the farthest i will write in the realm of pregnancy, ie i wont write about babies and stuff. warnings for pregnancy + nausea/vomiting

Y/n was beginning to feel cooped up, growing tired of staying in Drew and hers’ home. It wasn’t that she hated her company (Drew and Charleston), it was more that she was starting to get annoyed by the monotonous alternation between watching tv, reading over scripts, and scrolling through her phone. Maybe it was just pregnancy hormones, maybe it was just good old boredom. Either way, she needed to get out.

The first trimester of her pregnancy had been rough, y/n often waking up to waves of nausea that stranded her in the bathroom for hours, huddled over the toilet. The process of pregnancy was already stressful within itself, and adding the public’s opinions would only make it harder, so Drew and y/n decided to keep it between themselves for as long as possible. Once y/n was far enough along, they started telling their friends and family, the love reserved for their child that had previously been kept between just the two of them growing each and every day.

“Drew!” Y/n shouted as she stood from her spot on the couch with a groan. Drew came into the room quickly, a worried look on his face as he quickly looked her up and down. Now that she was well into her second semester, y/n’s bump had really begun to grow, making it a bit more difficult to hide with the baggy clothes she’d worn during the earliest stages of her pregnancy.

“What? Are you ok?” Drew quickly came to her side, a hand resting on her stomach. As much as she loved Drew, she had to admit that her pregnancy had turned him into even worse of a nervous wreck than he had been before. Every movement or sound that could even be construed as “weird” had Drew checking on her, a gentle hand roaming to her growing stomach.

“Yes,” y/n giggled as she tugged her cropped t-shirt down. “I’m gonna take Charleston out on a walk and stop at Claire’s.”

“Oh, just give me a second—” Drew scrambled back into their bedroom as y/n tugged on a light jacket, checking in the mirror that her exposed stomach was adequately covered despite the warmth outside.

“I’m fine, I can go by myself.” Y/n sighed, tugging on a baseball cap and grabbing Charleston’s leash, the dog excitedly trotting around her legs.

“Nope, I’m coming with you.” Drew emerged from the bedroom, taking Charleston's leash and pressing a quick kiss to y/n’s before reaching down to help her put on her shoes.

“Drew, I can do things by myself.” Y/n said, placing her hands on her hips as Drew tied her tennis shoes.

“I know. I’m just tryna treat my girls right.” Drew grinned, pressing a quick kiss to her growing bump before straightening up.

“You’re so convinced they’re gonna be a girl.” Y/n laughed lightly as Drew opened the front door, Charleston quickly jumping outside into the Carolina sun. Y/n stepped out next, Drew locking the door behind them as y/n stretched her legs with a groan, trying her best to minimize her pregnancy waddling as they began down the sidewalk.

The two of them walked side by side, Charleston trotting in front of them as they chatted. Once they reached down town, the streets grew more busy, filled with tourists and locals milling between the shops. Every so often they’d hear a giggle or see a wave, a fan noticing them but too afraid to approach, before carrying on with their walk. They continued down the sidewalk until they finally reached Claire’s, the two of them walking up to the window.

“Hey guys, long time no see!” The barista greeted, taking their orders and chatting with them as they waited. As they stood, y/n could feel herself growing warm from the unrelenting Carolina sun. Too engrossed in her conversation with Drew and the barista, as well as Charleston’s milling about, y/n didn’t even think anything as she unzipped the front of her jacket, the loose fabric billowing in the soft breeze. The fans who had been waiting in line behind them, however, let out small, shocked gasps before speaking excitedly to each other. Y/n turned at the noise, smiling lightly before turning back to Drew, who handed her her drink.

“Thank you so much, have a good rest of your day.” Y/n thanked the barista, Drew grabbing his drink. Y/n took a sip, a satisfied groan leaving her lips that caused the two of them to start laughing, Drew’s hand finding its spot around her waist. His fingers instantly met the warmth of her skin, Drew’s eyes widening as he looked down to see her exposed stomach. Y/n followed suit, looking down before hastily wrapping her jacket tightly around her body, only making her bump more prominent through the thin fabric.

“Shit, I wasn’t even thinking! I was hot and—” Y/n groaned, chewing at her lip as she looked around frantically, praying nobody had noticed.

“Hey, hey it’s ok.” Drew said, his hand soothing gently down her side before handing her his coffee. She took it, sighing deeply as he quickly reached down and zipped her jacket back up.

“No it isn’t! We were going to make this a whole reveal, surprise thing and I just fucking ruined it! Those girls in line definitely saw and—” y/n rambled, running her free hand through her hair messily.

“Hey, look at me.” Drew said, stopping the two of them in their tracks as he pulled her off to the side of the sidewalk. Charleston looked up between them curiously as y/n felt tears beginning to sting at her eyes, her mind racing at a million miles a minute.

“It’s ok, a’ight? I don’t care about that, I just care that you’re ok and that baby’s ok.” Drew whispered, his hands smoothing down her arms. 

“Are you ok?” Drew asked.

“Yes, but—-” y/n sighed.

“Is baby ok?” Drew said, his hands moving to rest on the sides of her stomach. Y/n looked at him, a small smile on her face.

“Yes.” Y/n nodded. Drew grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of her face before pulling her into his side.

“That’s all we need to worry about, ok baby?” Drew said, his words helping to calm down y/n’s pounding heart. She was ok, the baby was ok. That was all that mattered, not the whispers online or judgement of others.

“Thanks, Drew.” Y/n sighed, resting her head on Drew’s shoulder. He pressed one more kiss to her head before they continued their walk home, the secret they had been keeping now seeming to weigh a little less with each step.

Once they finally made it back to their house, y/n sat back down on the couch with a groan, her feet aching from all the walking and standing. Drew sat down next to her, taking her feet into his lap as he began to rub them gently. Y/n smiled, taking her phone out to countless notifications from friends, family, and her team on just about every possible platform.

“Well, shit.” Y/n sighed, opening one of the notifications and showing it to Drew.

Drew looked at her phone, nodding slowly before his eyes flicked back to y/n’s.

“At least you look hot in it.” Drew said with a shrug before returning his focus back to where he massaged y/n’s feet. Y/n laughed, kicking his leg lightly.

“Well at least I don’t have to worry about dressing like Adam Sandler to get coffee anymore.” Y/n grinned, Drew lifting his head and smiling back at her.

Later that afternoon, after talking with their publicists, the two of them decided it was finally time to make things official. With a final deep breath, they hit post:

[luvismenu]

> motive — pt.5 ,, index ! nsfw

. . brother's bestfriend!jungkook au . .

wc: 4.6k+

warnings: banter, teasing, lots of cursing ofc, kissing, some oral (fem recieving), fingering, clit play, he's kinda aggresive, jungkook being a dick in the end, cliffhanger-ish?

jeon jungkook is so fucking stubborn.

once he sets his mind on something, there’s no going back. if he thinks something might hurt someone, he won’t ever risk it. he doesn’t change his mind, doesn’t budge, doesn’t care how annoying it is. he’ll stick to his decision no matter what.

it’s a stupid habit, but he’s always been like this. and honestly, you’re starting to think he always will be.

you’ve known that ever since the bike incident from when you were kids. it was your brother’s bicycle. you really liked it, and you wanted to ride it secretly because you knew jimin wouldn't let you. you begged jungkook to let you, but he refused. your brother had told him, very seriously, that it would break his heart if you fell and got hurt. and, of course, jungkook listened. he took your brother’s words like gospel and never let you touch the bike.

it didn’t matter that you cried about it. even though he looked a little guilty seeing you bawling your eyes out, he still wouldn’t budge. your brother’s feelings came first, even if you were sitting there heartbroken.

and that was when you were four, and they were nine

jungkook never told you why he didn't let you touch your brother's bike either. you only know about this because jimin told you when you grew up. which really pissed you off.

maybe it’s a silly thing to still think about, but it’s just so annoying that he hasn’t changed. he’s always been like this— choosing what’s “right” even if it makes you mad.

sure, he’s not your best friend, but that doesn’t mean you both didn’t grow up together. you were always there, tagging along, watching him and jimin get into all kinds of trouble. and your brother always found ways to keep you quiet, too.

“jungkook, let's carry her on the way home.”

“jungkook, give her your candy so she won’t tell mom and dad.”

and it worked.

every time.

it was fun, you won’t lie. making them beg you not to rat them out, holding it over their heads. oh, it was so fucking fun.

it’s still almost the same, you know all your brother’s secrets, and by extension, jungkook’s. growing up with them, you picked up more than they ever wanted you to. and, well, why wouldn’t you use that information to your advantage? sometimes for fun, sometimes to get what you want.

and what did mufasa say? it’s the mother fucking circle of life.

“saw that you were with taehyung a few days ago,” jimin says casually as he pulls on his jacket.

you’re stretched out on the couch, scrolling through your phone. you’ve been debating whether or not to text jungkook, but you don’t want to look desperate. still, your fingers keep itching to type something.

your brothers words make you pause, but you don’t look up. instead, you respond simply, “yeah.”

“why?” he asks, his voice closer now. you glance up to find him standing right behind you, staring down.

you shrug, keeping your eyes glued to your phone. “just because.”

and then, without warning, he snatches the phone from your hands, holding it high above his head. you gasp, jumping up immediately.

“oh, you son of a—”

“careful,” he interrupts with a smug grin, “we share the same mother.”

you glare, crossing your arms. “give me my phone back.”

“answer me properly,” he counters. “do you like taehyung?”

your face scrunches in immediate disgust. “no! he just wanted to meet up and talk. you know, because he helped me with my projects back in middle school, and we were kinda like friends.” you emphasize the words as you uncross your arms, as if reminding him.

jimin sighs and finally lowers your phone, which you snatch back with lightning speed.

“okay,” he relents, “just don’t get too close to him.”

“why?” you deadpan, raising a brow. “because he’s a model too, and you’ve got some secret rivalry with him?”

“because he hurt my best friend,” jimin snaps, his tone sharp, “and i don’t want to think about it.”

you shut your mouth, his words leaving no room for argument. the silence between you grows thick for a moment.

then, finally, you speak up. “whatever. i’m going to watch a movie. don’t disturb me.”

“i won’t, cuz i’m going out,” jimin says, grabbing his car keys from the table.

“with?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

“your mo— wait, shit, we have the same mom,” he mutters, catching himself, and you scrunch your nose in disgust but can’t help the small smile that slips out.

“your crazy model friends?” you fold your arms again,tilting your head.

“yes, my crazy, stupid, but rich model friends,” he grins smugly, “just like me.”

you roll your eyes and turn around, flopping back onto the couch dramatically.

“oh, and jungkook’s coming over,” he says as he heads for the door.

your ears perk up immediately, and you shoot up, blurting, “why?”

“it’s the weekend. he’s gonna sleep over,” jimin replies casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. and to be fair, it kind of is— jungkook crashing at your place is pretty routine. but the thing is, he’s always here for jimin, not you. all you and jungkook do is bicker whenever he’s around.

“but you’re going out,” you frown, watching him open the door.

“bro, this is my house, i’m coming back of course. don’t worry,” he says, rolling his eyes like you’re being ridiculous.

“but i don’t—”

“shush,” he cuts you off, stepping outside. “i am gonna be late because of you. take care of the house and don’t fight with jungkook.”

before you can argue back, he’s out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

you stare at the door for a moment, then slump back onto the couch, muttering to yourself.

“yeah, like that’s fucking possible.”

it doesn’t take long for jungkook to show up. the front door swings open casually, and he walks in like he owns the place, not even sparing you a glance. he heads straight for the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water, chugging it down like he just ran a marathon.

must’ve worked out.

you hear his footsteps as he walks into the living room, where you’re sprawled out on the couch, pretending to ignore him. well, pretending to mind your own business, at least.

your eyes flick to him briefly, and yep, there he is— in those stupidly attractive gray sweatpants and a black compression shirt that clings a little too well to his body. if you look at him for too long, you’re pretty sure you’ll do something you’ll regret.

nope. not worth it. you’re supposed to be mad at him.

what is annoying, though, is how quiet he has been ever since that conversation with him a few days ago. jungkook isn’t supposed to be quiet around you. if anyone gets to ignore anyone here, it’s you.

selfish? maybe. but it’s just you and him.

it is what it is.

“get up,” he says, standing right beside the couch where your legs are sprawled out. “i need to sit.”

you glance at him briefly and then smile. “there’s plenty of space,” you say, your voice sickly sweet. “outside. in the garbage bin.” your smile drops as you finish the sentence, and his frown deepens, his brows pulling together in a way that— unfortunately, makes him look even better.

even hotter.

“i wanna watch the movie too,” he says, ignoring your jab.

“too fucking bad,” you retort, keeping your eyes on the tv.

the notebook plays on the screen, and for a second, you think of how much you and jimin love this movie and how you all used to watch this movie when you were younger (but old enough to watch it). jungkook always sat through it with the two of you, even though you know it’s not his thing.

“i just came back from the gym,” he starts, his voice edged with frustration. “i could use some rest.”

“go to the other room, then. use the bed to res— hey!”

you’re cut off mid-sentence as he grabs your legs, effortlessly lifting them up. before you can protest, he flips them off the couch, forcing you to sit up as he plops himself down beside you.

he leans back, completely unfazed, and looks at the screen. “thanks,” he says smugly.

“fuck face,” you mutter under your breath, glaring at him.

your hands itch to smack the smirk off his face, but you just huff and turn back to the movie, crossing your arms in annoyance.

you grab your phone, your fingers moving quickly as you text yumi because you genuinely have no idea what to do or say right now.

you: how can this mfker sit here and act like nothing happened!?

yumi <3: he's at yours!?!?

you: yeah, sleepover

yumi <3: where's ur bro

you: out

yumi <3: so u're alone tg 😈

you: help me bae. he's acting like i didn't literally say that i fucking want him?? what do i do

yumi <3: what u always do babe ,, provoke him.

you glance over at jungkook, still seated on the couch, his eyes glued to the screen. his jaw is clenched slightly, and your gaze trails down his arm, taking in his tattoos, the way his biceps flex subtly as he rests his hand on his thigh. and that’s when an idea hits you.

without a word, you get up and walk to your room. you don’t notice it, but his eyes flick to you as you leave. his gaze lingers for a second, curious, but he quickly forces himself to look back at the screen.

in your room, you swap your pants for a pair of shorts— really short shorts. short enough to reveal your thigh tattoo.

you glance at yourself in the mirror and adjust them slightly, smirking to yourself.

with newfound confidence, you stride back into the living room. jungkook is still on the couch, his attention glued to the movie. he doesn’t even glance your way when you enter— typical.

you catch sight of the clutter on the glass table in front of him: bowls and empty cups.

perfect.

you move around the couch approach the table from the other side so he can see the tattoo and start tidying up, picking up the bowls one by one, moving slowly, purposefully. you stretch your leg just slightly as you reach for the furthest one, your thigh tattoo now fully visible.

jungkook notices. and oh, you can tell by the quick flick of his eyes, the way his jaw tightens for just a second. but he doesn’t say a word, keeping his gaze locked on the screen like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

you hold back a frustrated sigh, heading to the kitchen to put the bowls away. when you return, he’s still pretending not to notice you, still sitting there as if nothing’s changed.

so fucking stubborn. for what, though?

you stop and take a deep breath, deciding to try again. this time, you walk directly in front of the tv, deliberately blocking his view as you pretend to move things around the room.

he frowns almost immediately. “move out of the fucking way,” he says, voice sharp and annoyed.

“can’t,” you say, keeping your tone light and casual. “i’m busy doing something.”

you cross the room again, back and forth, shifting random items like it’s the most important task right now.

“do it later,” he snaps, the irritation growing in his voice. “i’m watching this,, aren’t i?”

you scoff, turning on your heel to face him. “so fucking what? you’ve seen this movie like, a hundred times!”

he stares up at you, still frowning. “what the fuck do you want?” his tone is calm, too calm, but there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach flip.

you cross your arms, glaring at him. “you know what i want.”

he raises an eyebrow, his jaw clenching as he leans back into the couch. “do i?”

“yes,” you snap as you glare down at him. “don't act stupid, jungkook. you know exactly what the fuck i want.”

he exhales sharply through his nose, running a hand through his dark hair. “i don't know what the fuck you're talking about so just fucking say it.”

you scoff, your brows furrowing deeper. “i did say it. you’re the one pretending like it didn’t happen, like i didn’t tell you—”

“because you don’t mean it,” he cuts you off, his voice low but steady.

you take a step back, stunned for a moment. “what?”

he leans forward now, resting his palms on his knees, his gaze boring into yours. “you’re just doing this to fuck with me, to get a reaction. and congrats, you fucking got one. are you happy now?”

your throat tightens, but you refuse to let him see how much his words sting. “you think i didn’t mean it?”

he doesn’t answer immediately, just stares at you, like he’s trying to read your mind.

“if i didn’t mean it,” you say, your voice softer now, “then why would i keep doing this? why the fuck would i care?”

“because you like attention, don't you?” he shoots back, his words sharper than you expected. “taehyung, me, whoever gives it to you.”

your jaw drops, anger and disbelief flooding you. “you’re such a fuckin—”

“don’t,” he cuts you off again, standing up now, towering over you. “don’t act like i’m the bad guy here. you’re the one who started this.”

you stare up at him, your chest rising and falling as frustration bubbles over. but you recover quickly, masking the storm inside you with a smirk. tilting your head slightly, you ask, “started what exactly?” your tone is light, almost mocking, daring him to say it out loud.

jungkook’s jaw tightens, his gaze locked on yours. he doesn’t back down, but he doesn’t answer immediately either, like he’s weighing his next move. you can see it— the slight flare of his nostrils, the clench of his fists at his sides.

“don’t play with me, ___.” he finally says, his voice low and rough.

your smirk widens, pushing him further. “am i really? becuz all i see is you getting worked up over nothing.”

“nothing?” he scoffs, stepping closer, closing the already minimal distance between you. “you’ve been pushing me, fucking testing me? what the fuck is that about?”

you hold your ground, refusing to back away. “and? what are you gonna do about it, jungkook? keep avoiding it like you always do?”

he lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “avoiding it? you’re fucking crazy. you think this is easy for me?”

“what’s not easy?” you press more, losing patience, your voice softening slightly. “tell me, jeon jungkook. what’s so hard for you?”

his eyes darken, his emotions clear on his face. “stop, ___.” he pauses. “stop pushing me before i—” he cuts himself off, shaking his head like he’s trying to regain control.

you feel your breath catch at his words, your heart pounding, but you don’t let it show. instead, you tilt your chin up, whispering, “no.. you need to stop fighting it, jungkook.” you lean in closer, your eyes never leaving his. “it's just you and me right now.”

for a moment, neither of you moves. the tension between you is palpable, electric, like something is about to snap. and this time, you’re not sure if you want to continue pushing him.

“shut the fuck up,” jungkook leans down, his breathe getting heavier

you smirk a little, whispering back, “fucking make me.”

and then suddenly he’s holding your jaw in his big, tattooed palm, his lips sear against yours kissing you with passion that you’ve always wanted to feel.

jungkook's hand tightens around your jaw as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a desperate hunger. you moan into his mouth as he pulls you against his body, his other hand wrapping around your waist.

breaking away for a ragged gasp, jungkook lifts you effortlessly into his arms, kissing you again. you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. he puts you down gently on the couch where he'd been sitting moments before. though there's nothing gentle about the way his hands roam over your curves, hiking your shirt up a little.

jungkook pulls back just enough to glare down at you, his breaths ragged, his jaw clenched. his dark eyes bore into yours.

"i hate you," he grits out. his hand grips your thigh, sliding up to press firmly against your skin, sending shivers through your body.

your lips curl into a smirk, your breath hitching as his grip tightens. “do you?” you whisper, your voice teasing, daring him to keep going.

his fingers dig into your thigh, his gaze flickering to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “yeah, cuz you're so fucking annoying. i hate you so fucking much,” he mutters, leaning down to press his lips against your neck, kissing and biting on your sensitive skin.

a soft moan escapes you, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as you arch into him. “yeah?” you breathe out, your smirk deepening. “i like knowing i get to you.”

his eyes snap to yours, his jaw tightening as he pulls your shorts down in one swift motion, revealing him your bare pussy. “so fucking bratty,” he mutters.

your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling as his fingers trace over the tattoo etched into your thigh, the one he gave you, the one that still turns him on whenever he thinks about how you teased him during the session.

you and your fucking mouth. he thinks.

his lips hover over your skin, his gaze fixed on the inked design before he lowers his head. his soft lips press against your hip, right where the tattoo starts.

his voice is quieter now, softer as he looks up at you. “does it still hurt?”

“so much,” you whisper, your voice shaky, but it’s clear your meaning has nothing to do with pain.

a smirk tugs at his lips, his eyes dark with intent as he begins kissing along the tattoo, lower and lower. each press of his lips sends a shiver through your body.

his hands grip your thighs firmly, holding you in place as his mouth continues its path, exploring every inch of your skin, lingering on the spots that make you squirm, but not touching the place you desparately need him to.

“you’re so quiet now, ___,” he murmurs against your thigh, his lips brushing over your skin. “what happened to that smart mouth of yours?”

you bite your lip, trying to hold back a sound. “fuck off,” you breathe out, your words make his smirk grow wider.

his hands grip your thighs, holding you open as his head moves fully between them. his eyes lock onto your bare pussy, and he curses under his breath.

he leans in, his tongue sliding in a long, slow stride over your folds, making your eyes flutter shut. a soft, needy moan escapes your lips, your body already trembling like you’ve been waiting for this moment forever.

because, well, you have.

his tongue moves through your folds with such a delicious rhythm, licking every inch of you. your breathing grows heavier with each stroke, his mouth exploring you like he’s memorizing every reaction.

when his tongue finds your clit, he flicks it expertly, a few quick strokes before sucking on it. the sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, your mind spiraling into a haze.

“fuck,” you whisper, barely able to form words as his mouth works wonders on you.

he doesn’t stop. his tongue continues to explore you, his lips wrapping around your clit again while his hand comes up to join the mix. two fingers slide over your slick folds before finding your clit, rubbing it in perfect rhythm with his tongue. when his mouth moves lower, licking at your entrance, your thighs quiver, and a sharp moan slips past your lips.

“this what you wanted?” he rasps, his voice rough as he glances up at you, his fingers still circling your clit. your back arches instinctively, your body responding to his touch, and you squirm under him, unable to keep still.

when you don’t answer fast enough, his hand lifts slightly before coming down with a sharp slap to your pussy. the sting makes you whimper, your eyes shooting open as he smirks.

“what’s wrong?” he taunts, his fingers rubbing over your folds soothingly. “for someone who bitches about everything, you're so fucking quiet now.”

he presses two fingers against your entrance, teasing you, his movements deliberate as your body tenses.

“wanna cum on my fingers?” he asks, his tone low, his thumb still rubbing lazy circles on your clit.

“y-yes,” you stammer, your voice shaky but desperate. “fuck yes, wanna cum on your fingers,” you moan, your body arching when you feel his fingers slide in.

“shit, look at you,” he groans, his voice rough as his fingers curl inside you, hitting the perfect spot. “dripping so good for me,”

your moan spills out involuntarily, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. your hand reaches out instinctively, gripping his that’s still holding your thigh, your touch shaky but needy.

his fingers pump in and out of you, his thumb pressing against your clit in perfect rhythm. the wet sounds of your pussy, with your breathless moans, echo in the room mixed with the movie still playing in the background; filling his head with even more desire. his eyes flicker down to the visible bulge in his sweatpants, hard and straining against the fabric as he takes in the sight of you.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself, his movements never faltering. watching you like this; squirming, moaning, completely falling apart— does something to him he can’t ignore. he never thought it would actually come to this.

but he can’t deny it. he’s thought about it. more times than he’d ever admit. even when he tried to push those thoughts away, when he tried to convince himself it was wrong to see you like this, he could never stop. every time you provoked him, every time you pushed his buttons, it only made him think about it more.

and now? now he’s fucking gone. he loves this. he loves having you squirm beneath him.

“f-fuck, j-jungkook, so good!” you cry out, your voice trembling as your back arches off the couch. your brows pinch together, your lips parted, your entire body trembling under his touch. your eyes flutter shut, so close to rolling back, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation he’s giving you.

“yeah?” he breathes, his tone low and wrecked. “you look so fucking pretty like this, so fucking beautiful..” his pace quickens, his fingers pumping deeper, harder, pushing you closer and closer.

“that’s it, just like that,” he coaxes, as his fingers continue working inside you. his thumb presses firmly against your clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure, driving you even closer to your release.

your breathing turns ragged, your body trembling beneath his touch as the heat coils tighter in your core. “j-jungkook, i’m gonna—”

“do it,” he murmurs, his gaze locked on your face, watching every expression, every twitch. “fucking cum for me,”

your body tenses, back arching. your walls clench around his fingers as your orgasm washes over you, waves of pleasure crashing through every nerve. you grip his wrist tightly, probably marking him, your thighs trembling as you ride out the high.

he slows his movements, letting you catch your breath, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he watches you, his eyes dark and full of something you can’t quite place. he gently slips his fingers out, glistening with your release, and you watch, dazed, with your half-open eyes, as he brings them to his lips.

“fuck,” he mutters, licking his fingers clean, his tongue swirling around them as if savoring every taste of you. his gaze meets yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you taste fucking divine.”

“jungkook,” you whisper, your voice shaky but soft, not entirely sure what to say.

but.. before you can say anything, your phone starts ringing. both of your heads snap to the table where it’s vibrating.

the contact name reads “hater,” which you both know means jimin.

your eyes flick to jungkook. his expression shifts, and his hands, which were so close to touching you again, retreat. he steps back, leaving you frowning and still catching your breath.

“shit…” he mutters, standing up quickly, like he's guilty. you push yourself up too, sitting on the couch, not caring about the mess or the fact that you're still half-naked.

“are you fucking serious right now?” you snap, your voice dripping with frustration.

he sighs deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. “just fucking pick it up.”

you scoff but grab your phone anyway, answering it and immediately putting it on speaker.

“what the fuck do you want?” you hiss.

“woah, who hurt you dumbass?” jimin’s voice is light, teasing.

you roll your eyes as jungkook silently fixes his clothes, avoiding your gaze.

“what is it?” you ask, your tone sharper than you intended.

“tell jungkook i’ll be late,” jimin says casually. “i texted him, but he wasn’t answering.”

jungkook looks around, realizing he left his phone on the kitchen counter earlier.

“is that all, brother?” you say, your voice dripping with fake sweetness, emphasizing the last word

“yeah, sister,” jimin replies mockingly, playing along. “go to sleep, it’s late, and don’t worry about jungkook.”

“care about your stupid model friends instead,” you mutter and hang up before he can say more.

jungkook exhales heavily, picking up your shorts from the floor. he places them gently on your lap, covering you, though he avoids looking at you entirely.

“what now? you’re just going to do nothing?” you demand, your voice rising with frustration.

“shut up, ___,” he says, his tone low. “we went too far. we need to stop. it’s better that we—”

“don’t tell me to shut it!” you snap, your voice breaking slightly. “you liked it just as much as i did! and—” you point at his pants, your eyes narrowing. “you’re still fucking hard, so don’t act like it didn’t mean anything.”

he groans, pressing his palm to his face. “just fucking get dressed. go to sleep.” he sighs. “we’re done here. don’t ever bring this up again.”

his words feel like a slap to the face.

“you’re just gonna walk away?” you askbut he doesn’t respond.

jungkook grabs his phone from the kitchen, heading for the front door.

“where are you even going?” you demand, anger and hurt swirling in your chest.

“out. need to cool off,” he says without looking back and walks out, the door shutting behind him.

you sit there, staring at the door.

this hurts. so. fucking. much.

what the fuck is his problem?

you want to scream, to fight, to get some kind of answer out of him, but he’s gone.

this was not okay. you can't forgive him. too fucking far.

you fucking hate jungkook.

note: wait ngl lmao i think i had a little too much fun w this ,, even though i was crying & trying to make the smut part even better 🥴

no series taglist !!

💌 permanent taglist: @annyeongbitch7 @internetrando64 @jkvias @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @jaytheatiny @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee

@134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @hoseokteardrop @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097 @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle @rrosiitas @jjeonjjk7 @remgeolli @ty-moy-ya-tvoy @rpwprpwprpwprw

[andromeda-pleiades]

Just Trust Me

WORD COUNT: 1,747

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Part- 1 | Part 3

The ride home is quieter than usual. Simon, who typically fills the silence with small talk or offhand comments, stays focused on the road. You can feel the absence of his usual chatter, and the space between you both grows.

You bite your lip, trying to decide whether to bring it up. The missing phone. The app. Simon’s reaction could tell you more than anything, but you're not sure what you're hoping to hear.

"So, I think I lost my phone today," you say, casually, trying to gauge his response.

Simon’s hands tighten around the steering wheel, though his expression doesn’t change. “Lost it? That’s a shame. Where?”

You hesitate, thinking back to the sandwich shop. The moment you realized your phone was gone, it felt like it happened in slow motion. “In the sandwich shop, I guess. It was just... gone.”

Simon glances at you briefly, his eyes cool, before returning to the road. “That’s annoying.”

He says it with a certain calmness, almost as if he's dismissing it without making a big deal out of it. You can’t quite place it, but something about his reaction makes you feel... uneasy.

"I’ll get you a new one," he adds, as if he’s solving the problem for you. “No point in you going without one.”

You almost want to argue, but something holds you back. The way he offers to replace it feels like it should be reassuring, but it only adds to the sense that you're losing control over things you once took for granted. You nod, unsure of what else to say.

"Thanks," you murmur. But the words feel hollow.

The silence stretches on, the low hum of the car filling the space between you. You keep wondering if he knows. About the app. About the things you haven’t figured out yet.

You glance at him, but his face is unreadable, his focus entirely on driving. It's as if the missing phone is nothing more than a minor inconvenience, and you can't decide if that should reassure you—or if it should worry you.

The car pulls into the driveway, and you feel the weight of the day pressing down on you. You know Simon’s going to act like everything is fine, that the missing phone is just another small thing to be dealt with. But a small voice inside you whispers that it's more than that.

You can't put your finger on it yet. But something feels...

You sit on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, while Simon moves around the kitchen, humming a soft tune as he cleans up after dinner. The evening feels deceptively normal, his attentiveness wrapping around you like a warm blanket. He checks in with you often—bringing you water, asking if you’re comfortable—all while wearing the calm, steady expression you’ve always admired.

It’s what you should want, isn’t it? A partner who cares, who notices even the smallest things.

And yet, you feel… off. Not because of anything he’s doing, but because of you. Because of your own thoughts.

You glance at him as he wipes down the counter, his movements smooth and precise. Memories of his stories about his time in the special forces flash through your mind—missions in dangerous places, the constant threat of danger, the toll it must’ve taken on him. You’ve seen glimpses of it in the night terrors that wake him up, in the way he’s always scanning his surroundings when you’re out in public, in the way he can’t fully relax even here, at home.

You understand why he might have done it. The app, you mean.

It feels foolish now, the way you reacted earlier when you found it. Simon has always been a good boyfriend, patient and attentive even when you’ve struggled to keep up with his complexities. It makes sense that he would want to keep you safe, that he might need the reassurance of knowing where you are.

He’s been through so much—things you can’t begin to comprehend. After everything he’s seen, after all the chaos he’s lived through, is it so wrong that he wants control? That he wants to protect you in the only way he knows how?

You press your lips together, fighting back a wave of guilt. Maybe you overreacted. Maybe the app really is just his way of looking out for you.

But there’s something else, something you can’t quite name. A feeling deep in your gut that won’t go away, no matter how much you try to rationalize it.

Because if it was just about safety, just about protection, why didn’t he tell you about it?

The question twists in your mind, and you hate yourself for it. You hate that you’re doubting him when he’s never given you a real reason to. He’s been nothing but wonderful to you. Understanding. Patient. The perfect partner in every way.

And yet, the unease lingers, curling low in your stomach like a warning.

Simon turns to you then, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You okay?” he asks, his voice gentle, concerned.

You force a smile, nodding quickly. “Yeah. Just... tired.”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, and you feel your pulse quicken. But then he nods, accepting your answer without pushing further.

“You should get some rest,” he says, walking over to press a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll finish up here.”

You murmur your thanks, leaning into his touch despite the knot tightening in your chest.

As you retreat to the bedroom, you try to shake the feeling, to convince yourself that you’re overthinking it. Simon loves you. He’s always loved you. And he’s been through more than anyone should ever have to endure.

But no matter how much you tell yourself it’s fine, that he’s fine, you can’t ignore the small voice whispering in the back of your mind. The one telling you there’s more to this than he’s letting on.

And the more you try to silence it, the louder it becomes.

The room is dark and still when you wake, the faint scent of cigarette smoke lingering in the air. You blink a few times, disoriented, before realizing Simon isn’t beside you.

You sit up slowly, the silence pressing against your ears. Through the bedroom window, you catch a glimpse of him standing on the porch, his silhouette faintly illuminated by the cherry-red glow of his cigarette.

Simon doesn’t smoke often—only when he’s stressed. You watch him for a moment, his posture rigid, his shoulders tense as he stares out into the darkness.

A sense of unease washes over you, but you push it aside, convincing yourself it’s nothing. He’s probably just thinking, you tell yourself. Processing whatever ghosts still haunt him.

But you can’t shake the restlessness in your chest.

Sliding out of bed, you move quietly across the room. Your bare feet make no sound as they touch the cool floor. You don’t know what compels you to move toward the closet, but something in the back of your mind whispers for you to check.

The closet is orderly, as always—Simon’s precision extending to even the smallest details of his life. You scan the shelves and the small duffel bag tucked into the corner. It’s zipped shut, but not fully.

Your heart pounds as you crouch down, pulling it open. At first, you don’t see anything out of the ordinary: folded clothes, a shaving kit. But then your hand brushes against something hard and rectangular.

Your phone.

For a moment, you just stare at it, your breath caught in your throat. You pull it out slowly, your fingers trembling. The screen lights up as you press the button, and the app you found earlier stares back at you like a damning accusation.

You’re about to set it down when a notification pops up.

A message.

From Gaz

Your stomach drops. You hesitate for only a moment before swiping to unlock the screen. The message thread opens, and your pulse races as you scroll through it.

Gaz: She doesn’t suspect anything, does she?

Soap: Not a chance. Simon’s too good for that.

Simon: Just keep your end clear. I don’t want any loose ends.

Gaz: Relax. She’s not like that.

Your vision blurs as you stare at the screen, your brain struggling to piece together what you’re seeing.

She’s not like that. Are they talking about you?

You scroll further, catching bits and pieces of their conversation.

Gaz: How’s she holding up?

Simon: Doesn’t matter. Everything’s under control.

Soap: Yeah, but for how long?

The words feel like a punch to the gut. You don’t understand the full context, but you know enough to realize that this isn’t normal. This isn’t right.

And then it hits you.

Gaz

Kyle.

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Kyle—the same Kyle you’d known for years, your childhood friend. He’d always been part of Simon’s stories, but you never knew he was the same person. You never knew that Gaz—the elusive, almost mythical figure in Simon’s past—was your old friend.

Your childhood friend. The same Kyle you ran into at the sandwich shop. The same Kyle who was part of Simon’s special forces team, whose codename you’d heard in passing but never connected until now.

Your mind races as the truth sinks in. This wasn’t a coincidence. None of this was. Simon had been watching you from the start, and Kyle had been helping him. Every move you made, every step you took—it had all been calculated.

You feel like the floor has been ripped out from under you.

You force yourself to put the phone back exactly as you found it, zipping up the duffel bag and closing the closet door. Your hands are shaking, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

When you glance out the window again, Simon is still there, his cigarette burned down to the filter. He crushes it under his boot, the movement precise, deliberate.

In that moment, he doesn’t look like the man you thought you knew.

He doesn’t look like the comforting, loving boyfriend who holds you when you’re upset or makes you laugh when you’ve had a bad day.

He looks like a soldier. A man trained to control every situation, to anticipate every threat, to eliminate every weakness.

And suddenly, you realize: you’re not his partner. You’re just another piece on the board.

[bellamoooon]

A/N: So…Patrick’s sister, this was supposed to be shorter but I uh…I got carried away, enjoy anyway!! <33

As patricks sister, you always understood the dynamic; Patrick is the overprotective annoying older brother and you are the nerdy—he says— younger sister.

So obviously, growing up with him was an interesting experience to say the least.

Before going to MRTA, he’d usually bring his friends over after school, and of course you being the pretty little thing you are, they’d always joke around about how Patrick’s sister was hot, (literally average twelve year old when they see any female) and well Patrick, Patrick was pissed, so this is when the golden rule—he calls it— came in.

Patrick’s sister is off-limits.

Which eventually stopped being a big deal when he left for MRTA, since you’d only see him for holidays and breaks, and you didn’t really get to meet any of his friends.

Then Art comes into Patrick’s life; Bunkmates since they were twelve, both in their first year away from home.

For the first summer break, Patrick left to go to your family’s lake house with you and your parents, and Art went back home to visit his nana, he knew his parents would most likely be away working—as per usual.

But he actually finds out that his nana had already been sent to a retirement home 15 minutes out of his home town, so he visited every couple of days during that summer even though his nana kept telling him, “Artie, you don’t have to visit an antique like me, go be a kid, enjoy your summer” however he insisted in staying around her to keep company.

So when they get back, Patrick “loud mouth” Zweig rants to Art about his summer, and Art simply nods thinking about how he’d most likely stay in the academy next summer, not like he had much to go back to at home.

Fast forward a couple of months, it’s Christmas; Art is helping Patrick pack last minute when there’s a knock at the door, then they hear a feminine voice.

“Come on dickwad, mom and dad are waiting in the car”

Patrick groaned as he started to shove his things into his bag, then looking back at art as he folded some of Patrick’s shirts.

“Hey, Donaldson, mind getting the door? It’s my fuck ass sister” he said casually as he grabbed the shirts from Art.

“Sure” Art mumbled not thinking much, only trying to imagine a female Patrick behind the door, seeing as he’s never met you, so there he goes, he opens the door and finds—not a female Patrick— but the prettiest girl he’d seen just standings there in the most angelic way.

“Hey…?”

“Art, it’s uh— my name is Art” he’s stumbling over his own words in the stupidest way possible.

“What kind of name is Art? Are you like an Arthur or something?” He cringes internally but before he can answer Patrick pushes past him.

“It’s just Art, leave him alone, he’s my best friend, only I can make fun of him, find one yourself, kid” Patrick speaks as he walks out the door with his things then turns to Art, “going home for Christmas, Donny?”

Art despised that nickname, the tips of his ears went red as his whole face flushed, but he shook his head.

“My parents said they won’t be able to make for Christmas and I— I don’t want to worry my nana so…” he said shyly and a bit disappointed but, they were the same parents that had forgotten his birthday a year ago and days later brought a cake that said “happy 14th birthday” when he was turning 12.

“Awe…that sucks man, I’ll talk to my parents, you can tag along with us to our lake house next summer”

And that’s how the tradition all started, every summer, Art would spend it with Patrick’s parents, you and Patrick at the lake house, which gave him enough time to catch a little something his nana called a Lovebug, essentially, his was crushing hard.

But of course, there was the golden rule— totally off-limits.

And Art was…fine with it, it’s not like you’d ever like him back, he was probably just “Patrick’s quiet best friend” to you.

Little did he know…

Then fast forward a couple years later, coincidentally, you would also be going to Stanford without actually knowing Art had already been there for a year.

And Stanford was full of frat parties, Halloween costume parties and in general, any party within a 10 mile radius.

And you, pretty little freshman had been invited to a frat party by one of the juniors in your econ class, and I mean, you can’t be rude, right? You have to go.

So, you do.

You wind up in a frat house with a shit ton of people, some cigarette smoke and, a whole bunch of red disposable cups, so why not grab one, what’s the worst thing it could have in it, beer probably?

Wrong.

Something that to you tasted exactly what rubbing alcohol smelled like, so it goes straight from the cup to your mouth then back to the cup as you cringe letting out a single dry cough.

“You alright there?” A gentle voice popped up from behind you, familiar but you couldn’t quite tell, but as you turn there he is; Art fucking Donaldson. With a backwards red Stanford cap and a grey Stanford hoodie.

Oh.

“Oh— Art…hey” you chuckle softly still smelling the mysterious alcohol from your mouth.

“This isn’t quite your scene, huh?” He spoke as he took a sip from his cup with that goddamn side smirk of his.

“Yeah— no, I mean, I’ve been to parties, fun, fun parties. And this, this is so my scene” you rambled nervously, it was already embarrassing enough you, a freshman was at a frat party with a pretty floral skirt and a crochet sweater.

“Really? Oh…then have fun, fun girl” he laughed as he lifted his cup a bit towards you to then walk away.

Fuck it. You were gonna get wasted.

And so, that you did; Somehow ending up in just a soaked tank top, a soaked skirt, hair dripping water and, squeaky wet shoes as you stumbled out of the pool from the backyard.

“Hey, watch it—“ Art turned as he felt your body bump against his, “oh it’s you, fun girl.” He giggled as he saw you, clearly too drunk to even know what was going on, and he could’ve just laugh it off and get back to the party, but Art wasn’t like that, and specially not to you, you’re such a pretty little thing all wasted and soaked past midnight, plus, you were Patrick’s sister. He had to.

So he said his goodbyes and grabbed you as you both walked out of the frat to go back to campus.

“So tell me, miss Zweig, how does one, as drunk as you, not drown in a pool?” He said as he saw you hold onto his arm for dear life trying not to trip, which might have just dug up something he had buried years ago.

“Y’know, im fun, and this is so my people” you said looking up at him—just barely— as you let out a hiccup.

He blushed as he heard it, clearly it was your first time getting drunk drunk, adding on to the wet hair and your shivering body,

“Right, fun girl, my bad” he chuckled “come on you’re shivering, here” he pulled his hoodie off as he handed it to you, “can’t let you catch a cold, how else will you go to your next party, miss fun girl”

“Thank you, Artie.” You said as you grabbed the hoodie sliding it over your head feeling the warmth it carried from Arts body, accompanied by the faint smell of his cologne.

Meanwhile, Art was feeling like his spine had just been ripped out; Artie.

You hadn’t called him that since the summers at the lake house, where he had attempted and failed to forget his crush on you.

“Yeah— I uh…yeah” he blushed even harder as he fumbled his words not knowing how to react.

You just shut your eyes and breathed in the scent of his cologne to then open them up, there you were, doe eyed looking at him, in his hoodie, hair soaked as you unconsciously made it harder for him to be a good friend to Patrick, he felt horrible.

Not only did the disgusting thought of wanting to fuck you against his jeep popped into his head, this is Patrick’s sister he’s fantasizing about.

“Come on— I uh, I gotta get you back on campus” he cleared his throat as he looked away avoiding your stare.

“You’re no fun anymore, Artie…” a pout made itself present as you took a step closer, your hands landing on his shoulders, “come on, Donny…”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Patrick would kill me, you know that.”

“I won’t tell”

He wasn’t proud of himself for turning back to look at you, but you were just so pretty, lucky he didn’t have a boner, if he hadn’t given you the hoodie to cover your very visible nipples against the tank top, he’d probably have you bent over his cars hood.

“I really— I can’t…” he mumbled, his face inches away from yours, noses brushing against each other.

“You sure?” You whispered as you stared down at his lips, “not just this once?”

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, well…there goes his willpower, he was in too deep already.

Next thing he knows, you’re riding him in the backseat of his car, all flushed, tits out, him whimpering as he dug his fingers into your hips holding on for dear life throwing his head back, and windows all fogged up.

Yeah, he was so screwed.

He will most definitely be breaking the golden rule for…well, let’s just say it’s not a one time thing.

[rockybloo]

I feel like bitchin so I'mma bitch bc I always see people going on rants on their Tumblrs and I'm long overdue for one. Anyways, this is a long one so be aware you are gonna be scrolling for a good bit if you view under the cut.

ANYWAYS, I know that that rude anon from last week is old news but their whole "I'm sad that Glitter and Guilt is a m/f relationship" thing is just a part of a never ending situation I am going to experience til the end of time (or til I stop posting stuff online) just because I focus on primarily m/f relationships in my art.

And they aren't even straight m/f relationships, which is what annoys me the most about comments like this. They're all bisexual. But because people see bisexual characters as better than straight but less than same-sex attracted orientation, I will always have to deal with these passive aggressive ass comments.

I dealt with this typa stuff SO OFTEN in my early days on Instagram, especially when I posted some of my gender nonconforming OCs like Danny (my pink demon man who dresses like a bimbo Barbie doll). It got to the point I stopped sharing him over there for a bit because I would get comments where people were hoping he had a boyfriend in the past, or they were disappointed I "never" drew any Sapphic couples because they mistook Danny as a woman in a pic where he was kissing Karrie.

And I get the whole desire to want more representation. Trust me, I'm bi, black, and nonbinary. I am NEVER going to get any type of representation outside of the indie artists I find in small niche circles online. I completely get the whole "m/f relationships are EVERYWHERE in mainstream media" mentality because I also agree but only to a point.

There's a ton of trashy m/f media, but there's also good shit when you dig because you can find people who don't just shove a guy and girl together and call that a done deal - they actually give them personality and chemistry and a fun dynamic.

I'm a firm believer that the gender of a ship shouldn't dictate if it's good or not. An interesting dynamic is what motivates me to care about a couple of characters dating. That's why it bugs me whenever someone suggests any kind of series to me and simply tells me "It's gay" before telling me the actual plotline. I WANT TO KNOW WHAT A SERIES IS ABOUT! DO NOT WASTE MY TIME!!! (Please do not pop into my inbox after reading this and suggest me stuff btw because I've never been a big suggestions unprompted person - I typically find stuff myself bc I have weird tastes ANYWAYS BACK TO MY RANTING)

When it comes to my art, I draw m/f relationships as a primary focus because it's fun to mess with gender dynamics and flip them on their head, as well as to give younger me the food I wish I had. Growing up, before I realized I was nonbinary, I rarely saw any black girls in loving relationships in animated series I enjoyed. And occasionally I would get flash banged with the long despised trope of "Disposable Black Girlfriend". So I never felt like m/f relationships were oversaturated in my eyes because there were barely any good ones that featured a black girl with a happy ending - which means from DAY MOTHERFUCKIN ONE I was starving for content.

So that obviously means that when I grew up and adopted my "Make your own food" mentality, I started cooking. AND COOK I STILL DO! Because in the end, I make all this food to please myself. OTHERS MAY EAT OF COURSE - I am always happy when people come to my restaurant to dine because they enjoy my meals, but I hate how every blue moon I will get someone who waltzes into my little eatery and tells me that they wish I cooked the meal they get from other restaurants.

Because it would be so much more productive to just go eat AT those restaurants since they already got the food you like.

Having people comment their displeasure about me drawing a guy and a girl together in a healthy (and occasionally insane) relationship is always baffling to me. It's never going to make me stop, it'll only make me draw more Red Beans or more Licorice. It's also so baffling because I know that if the tables where flipped - and I was drawing primarily same-sex bisexual couples (OR JUST SOME GAY OR LESBIAN COUPLES IN GENERAL BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE JUST DON'T CARE ABOUT BI FOLKS AT ALL), it would be so fuckin' frowned upon to comment "I wish you drew more m/f! 🥺"

But because I draw m/f bi couples, it's totally free game. IT'S DEF STILL FROWNED UPON but one is way more likely to make you look like an asshole than the other. Because even in cases where people have said they agree it's a dick move to complain about m/f from me, there's still that vibe of it being more acceptable just because of mainstream media having so many m/f couples and that being the standard of offline society.

But I'm not mainstream media. And I disagree with a lot of standards of offline society which is WHY I poke fun at gender norms with my OCs.

That's why getting a ton of new followers is such a "oh boy here we go" thing for me, because with old followers that have been around for awhile, they know what's up. They understand what I draw, what I write, and how my OCs typically behave. They get that my m/f ships have rabies.

But new followers don't know this. And this has led to some real big "OOF" moments. Like people calling Jack and Nana a "het" couple. Yes, I know that that's a term that doesn't JUST mean "heterosexual" and can refer to them being different genders. It still feels hella weird for me - it's why m/f is my preferred descriptor because it lacks that confusion.

New followers are typically the ones that leave the passive aggressive comments about me mostly drawing m/f. OFTEN because they think I am one of those artists who will draw whatever it takes to please my audience. BUT I AM NOT - THERE IS NO AUDIENCE INFLUENCE HERE ☝🏾

I am not a taxi where I pick people up whenever they call me and I drop them off wherever they tell me.

I am a roller-coaster. Specifically those ones where you can see the entire track layout in the distance so you know what you're in for. You may sit in the front or the back or somewhere in the middle but that is the last input you got before I take off at my own speed (that will be stated RIGHT on the warning sign you read as you walked in) and once I am done, you may get off and carry along your merry way through the rest of the park OR you may get on to ride again.

This entire passive aggression towards m/f ships is just so tiring to deal with because there will never be an end to it. Even after I post this, I know days, weeks, months, YEARS down the line - someone will see some Jack and Nana art, or some Bitterbat and Sweetheart comic, or ANY of my other m/f couples, and type up some comment about how they wish the couples were same-sex. Or someone will lament over the fact they thought a couple was same-sex but it turned out the dude was just hella feminine.

Because it just ain't enough to have bisexual characters that are dating the same sex because then people will call them "straight passing" and not count them as being queer. And having all my OCs being bisexuals ain't enough to mark me as a queer artists in some eyes because "making all your OCs bi is just lazy" and not me representing an aspect of myself that I constantly see sidelined online.

Me drawing bisexual m/f couples is viewed as something that can be tinkered and tampered with so I can be more appealing and inclusive to others like I'm some mainstream Hollywood series and not just some random person online who draw the fictional beings in my mind kissing each other whenever I got the crumb of free time. Primarily drawing m/f couples means I gotta just vibe whenever I see a moot or a friend post or reblog some weird sentiment referring to how lame m/f couples are and I just gotta HOPE that they aren't including bisexuals when they engage with stuff like that.

I'm in this weird space where I am wedged between "You're not a straight artist" and "You aren't drawing enough gay stuff" online.

And I'm fine with this since I've been online for over a decade at this point. This isn't a vent post, this is a rant. I don't need cheering up or comfort after posting this. This is just some real talk because I typically post lighthearted stuff since I like to keep my blogs positive.

But I also like to keep my shit honest and I think it's important to just state a piece of my mind. I wouldn't say I'm being vulnerable, this is just some insight to why I draw what I do and why I get so annoyed by certain interactions with people and certain sentiments online that are antagonistic of m/f ships that put them all down without hearing them out.

Blah blah blah I'm tired of typing and I've said most of the main points I've needed uuuummm

If you read this long have some m/f fluff

[em-harlsnow]

difference between the first seasons of shameless and the last seasons imo

read beneath the cut, it’s pretty long

what i think really changed about the last seasons of shameless compared to the first seasons is how they tried to incorporate the audience. i’ve seen writers/producers say that they tried to set up the cameras in a way that made it feel like the audience was a part of the family, or a visitor confused by all the chaos.

i think that idea was lost in later seasons and you stop feeling like a part of the show, but even more than that, the audience becomes very detached from everything.

further, i think the characters began to lack the same weight that they did before. as they all start to grow up and become steadier as people, the show also loses its chaotic appeal. by the time the characters were all adults, the writers seemed lost on how to add that gritty dark element that the show had initially without becoming repetitive. there’s only so many times that frank can have some ridiculous storyline that hurts his kids where fiona has to pick up the pieces. it gets boring.

so to try and stop that happening, they ran with old comedic devices that i felt shameless had always deviated from, or at least exaggerated. but no, in the last seasons the show fully leans into them. it becomes more like a sitcom, like modern family or friends.

with tami and lip, it was tami getting insecure about lip possibly liking someone else and lip coming up with all these schemes on how to spend less money and hide that he was going for cheaper options from his girlfriend.

with debbie, it was the show leaning into the whole milkovich/gallagher thing and trying for a new pairing which honestly was entirely lacking. we had more development on her and mattie’s storyline (which was gross) than her and sandy. they turn debbie into a caricature and leave her without much emotional development, taking away any of the audience’s compassion towards her.

with carl, it was the whole police thing, where he struggled with his annoying boss and then his second annoying boss.

with liam, it was him becoming very mature very quickly, but lacking the same depth that debbie and carl got at his age. that’s just my opinion of him, bare in mind i haven’t watched his scenes in season 10/11 recently.

with ian and mickey, it was them becoming that TYPICAL comedic couple, with the show taking away a lot of what made them different. So many of their storylines were full of pointless arguments and unsatisfying resolutions. they tried to make them almost middle class, removing mickey’s skill in crime and making him look lazy. taking away all of ian’s emotional development and making him seem pissed off constantly. they don’t seem to understand each other the way they did before.

don’t even get me started on kev and v. they were one of the most interesting storylines at the beginning, and they suddenly became boring.

fiona left, so i can’t comment much on her.

shameless also lacks the connection the show used to have between storylines. every character was somehow connected to another character at the start, all the different plots influencing each other. that quality was lost later on.

at the beginning, the show made great points about poverty and politics without needed to obviously explain each one. it was metaphorical, an example of poverty and of people and relationships and life. In later seasons, it becomes too obvious for me. the messages the show is trying to convey are much more clear and surface level, which means the impact of these messages is reduced.

it’s like the difference between someone giving you an example of a specific person who has been abused, let’s say. You can either tell an emotive story about that abuse or you can say, they were abused, this is wrong. shameless originally was emotive, giving you connections to characters and therefore adding weight and meaning to their stories. It becomes shallow when the show gives its messages in plain ways. like the conversation that ian had with that woman in the furniture shop about the election results in season 11. sure, ian was right, but it doesn’t have the same impact when delivered in that way. if they’d done the show the same as they did in the first seasons, i’m sure the message would have been conveyed more passionately and effectively.

now, this is just my opinion. i don’t hate the last two seasons, but it wasn’t very shameless-esc. I also don’t write TV shows, so i don’t know exactly how to fix all those things

i do enjoy the last seasons, it wasn’t all bad. but it was different to the first ones, and that is something to comment on.

[seokmn]

chapter 13.

wc: 1k words

“oh my god, if you say anything else ill throw you in front of a moving car! we’re almost there, stop complaining!” frustration was very clear in doyeon’s voice, which made chan even more annoyed. “youve been saying this for an eternity now! im going back home.”

“wait! we’re here!”

chan looked at the old house in complete confusion. doyeon took a key out of her pocket and opened the door before looking at chan. “what are you waiting for? come in.”

the house not only smelled but looked old. “careful where you walk,” doyeon referred to the good amount of pieces of broken dishes on the floor. she placed her backpack on the table and carefully took some plates out of it.

“what are those for?”

“look at the floor and youll know what are those for,” she laughed as you looked around. “you wanted to break some plates with me?”

“exactly. now here, take these,” she handed him a few plates and a marker pen. “why the marker pen?”

“youll write something that you want to break, that you want to get rid of it,” doyeon took a plate and a marker pen, wrote school’s pressure down on the plate and looked at it before throwing it hard against the wall and yelling at the same time the plate hit the wall and broke it in pieces.

chan looked surprised, not knowing doyeon had this side of her. “so, wanna try now?”

“why should i? breaking a plate wont make the problem go away.”

“trust me, chan. do it.”

he sighed, took a plate and wrote losing her. chan looked at the plate, his fingers gripping at it before throwing it against the wall. the sight of the plate turning into small ceramic pieces was relieving and he couldnt explain why. it felt like the some of the weight on his shoulders were gone. he smiled and chuckled a little, finding the situation amusing.

chan didnt waste any time and started to write things down the plates and threw them, laughing like he was losing his mind. every thing he wrote on the plates were about you, about losing you.

he took a deep breath while looking at the ceramic pieces on the floor and tears started to fill his eyes, making his vision blurry. laughs that were coming out of his mouth soon started to turn into sobs as he crouched down, hiding his face in his hands and doyeon went closer to him without saying a word and started to rub his back in order to soothe him.

“i- i dont know what to do!” his voice came out between his sobs, his whole body shaking as he cried hard. “the thought of losing yn was already way too painful and now that i really lost her… its like i have nothing to smile about life.”

“hey,” doyeon crouched down as well and gently took his hands out of his face, taking sight at his red eyes and runny nose. “its for the best.”

“who cares if its for the best?! doesnt mean it doesnt hurt as hell!”

“i know, i know.”

“do you? i hate when people act like they know what im going through. you clearly dont! when you lose the love of your love because of your dream life, then you can say that.”

“im sorry.”

“dont apologize,” he sniffed. “its just- it shouldnt have to be like this, i shouldn’t have to suffer like this and make yn suffer as well. i shouldve never gotten closer to her, she doesnt deserve this. i want to run back to her, but i also want to become an idol… why cant i have both?”

“in life, we have to make sacrifices, chan. you can become an idol and love her from afar, or maybe your busy schedule will make you get over her, think that it wasnt right to stay together. you dont know what can happens.”

“i dont know and i dont wanna know… now i gonna choose to let her go because she made up her mind, but not because i chose this,” he sighed and wiped his tears away. “its funny how i cant go back, how i only have one path to go to now and im still torn. its not like i can go back in time or something.”

doyeon stood up and waited for him to stand up as well, “come on, you cant stay like this forever. are you really gonna just sit in your pain or are you gonna grow out of it as well?”

chan stood up and looked at her with pitiful eyes, “i feel like im grieving.”

“well, think about the bright side, youll have a lot of great songs to compose.”

“thats not funny.”

“who told you its a joke? turn your pain into art, chan. why do you think i paint that much? youre not the only person whos hurt in this world, so will you turn this pain into something productive or will you let it drown you? turn this into songs or into choreographies. dont let this pain take over you.”

chan only nodded, that was the only thing he could do at the moment. he knew she was right, but he also knew he wouldnt be able to do that, at least not at that moment.

“im sorry i was rude to you in the groupchat. to be honest, i dont even know why i said those things, i guess i got frustrated at the situation because i hate seeing you like this and blming yourself for it. i know i never told you, but i see myself in you.”

doyeon was expecting anything from chan as his response to his words but the hug he gave her right away, which she responded by wrapping her arms around his body while whispering motivational words in his ear.

once the hug was broken by doyeon, she looked in his eyes and smiled. “im hungry, we should eat something. lets go,” chan smiled as well and nodded. “yea, lets go eat something.”

HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS

yn and chan date since their freshman year and are truly high school sweethearts, but will chan’s dream of becoming an idol get between their relationship?

masterlist — prev — next

taglist: @ivehypnosis @wonkierideul @ateez-atiny380 @noircheols @222brainrot @odxrilove @vixensss @starshuas

[mistressoftherant-blog]

Fandom Whataboutism

Well, it's been a fair bit since I've written a rant, but this one has been growing inside of me for a while, so I'm going to get this off my chest. To flag, this is an issue I've mainly been seeing on TikTok, but it is starting to creep into other fandom spaces, and I'm more comfortable posting on Tumblr, so here we go.

For anyone unfamiliar with how the term 'whataboutism' is currently being used on TikTok, it essentially boils down to people in comments bringing up random things in regard to someone making content to either discredit them or to make the original post about themselves (e.g. the infamous bean soup idea where someone has a recipe for bean soup and someone in the comments says that they don't like beans so how can they make it, or someone saying that they like dogs and immediately get hit with a 'so you hate cats?').

From what I've seen, the phrase has essentially expanded to encompass a growing behavioural trend where people seem to think that everything they see should be specifically catered to their personal taste and that, if it isn't, they need to speak up about it instead of using critical thinking or realising that they can move past content that doesn't apply to them.

And that is something that has also been rife in multiple fandom spaces that I've been in.

One general issue I have seen is people commenting on art/vids/fics and demanding that people recreate them with their fave character, or make something of their fave character/ship/fandom. This just seems rude to me. People are not obligated to create content for your favourite things. If they've created something, it is usually because they wanted to put their passion into it and share it with people who also like the same things as them. They don't owe you anything, so if their content isn't of your fave, it's best too move along as you will.likely be able to find similar content that's more to your preference elsewhere or, if you want to see your own fave reflected in it, maybe reach out and ask if you can do a version with credit to the original.

Now on to some specifics.

I'm going to use some examples here to illustrate my point, but I already know that some people may get heated if they see this post so, general disclaimer, I am not bashing anyone for having any of these characters/ships as their favourites.

I just want to highlight a certain type of behaviour, and these are some of the examples I have personally been seeing lately.

First is the TMNT fandom, which will surprise absolutely no one familiar with this account. I may be going over old ground here but, if you see content for a version of the TMNT you don't like, you don't have to engage! And swooping in with a comment about how much better your preferred version is is annoying. Why would you feel the need to say something snide about one version to big up your fave? Rise fans are especially notable for doing this, but they definitely aren't the only culprits.

Last Ronin fans are another large example of this. When someone is comparing the strengths of the turtles in a particular version, jumping in to say that Mikey is the strongest because he is the Last Ronin is irritating as all hell. Last Ronin is an entirely separate thing (and Mikey living longest is more due to luck/coincidence than him being so much better than his brothers anyway, but that's a rant for another day). And making these comments on a post about a specific turtle is a whole spit in the face. There was a cool edit of Donnie in 2012 in some of his angry moments, and so many comments were about how either Mikey or Leo were so much better than him when angry. To be blunt, if you do this, you're an asshole. There is no need to be so incessantly vocal about your personal fave on a post that is entirely unrelated to them, except to be self centred and you come across as an antagonising prick.

And then there is the Bat-fam fans who are notorious for using fanon to try and make everything about their faves. I saw a post the other day that was an animation of Dick Grayson interacting with the JL, particularly Wonder Woman that had in the description that it was about Dick Grayson. The way it was drawn and the behaviour of everyone in the vid clearly pointed to it being Dick. Yet there were a flood of Jason fans saying that it must be him because of how much he loved Wonder Woman, which is fanon? It got to the point where the poster had to update the description to say they supposed it could be Jason because his fans were being so aggressive.

Or the amount of people who try to say that the Teen Titans cartoon Robin or first season Young Justice Robin are Tim rather than Dick, despite ample evidence otherwise? And then they say that they are characterised more like Tim, as if the two don't share traits? As if Dick can't be angry, or snarky, or good with tech, so if he is, then it must be Tim instead? I've also seen people saying Teen Titans Robin is Damian, even though Damian wasn't even properly in the comics then? It doesn't hurt to do a little research, yet I've seen people try and blatantly argue against canon facts, or the words of the people creating the fan content, to try and make everything about their fave.

Last up is Shadow the Hedgehog. This bit will discuss the wider fandom, but will have some spoilers for the third movie, so please skip to the conclusion or turn back here if you don't want to risk spoilers.

It is not hard to see that Shadow is a popular character, and I can understand why he is. He's cool and he has an interesting back story and interesting powers. But some (key word, some, definitely not all) of his fans take it too far. I watched a great edit of Knuckles from the SCU and, when I opened the comment section, one of the first comments I saw was someone typing in all caps asking why no one was talking about Shadow dying. This was an edit entirely of Knuckles, yet someone was still screaming about Shadow, as if A). the majority of the fandom aren't constantly talking about him, B). Shadow wasn't completely irrelevant to this post and C). Shadow wasn't actually dead.

Likewise, there was an edit of SCU Tails, Sonic and Knuckles to Brother by Kodaline, and people in the comments were asking why Shadow wasn't included. As if Shadow hadn't been an antagonist to them for most of the film. As if Shadow had had a genuine conversation with any of them bar Sonic. Honestly, how did they think he was going to be included in a sweet montage around brotherhood when the only current clips of him are of him fighting/scaring/being a dick to them, with the Robotniks and/or Stone, and then one nice scene with Sonic and a fight montage before he sacrifices himself? He's not their brother. Frankly, I don't think it would make much sense for him to be adopted by the Wachowskis as he's always been his own separate thing, and is more likely to end up with Team Dark if they are introduced rather than having another bed crammed into the attic like he would be crammed into the Team Sonic dynamic.

Or whenever someone talks about how strong Knuckles is, and you get the 'erm actually' bros out in force to talk about how Shadow is the most powerful as he is the Ultimate Lifeform and yadda yadda yadda. And it's just, like, give it a rest already. I'm on a Knuckles post to talk about Knuckles. If you want to hype up Shadow, you genuinely have no shortage of spaces to do so.

There's also the whole matter of shipping. I feel I need to reiterate this, but I don't mind people shipping whatever they like. But I also would like to see that same courtesy extended to others.

For example, there was a post talking about canon Sonic love interests, and half the comments were saying 'what about Sonadow?' I was genuinely concerned that these people didn't understand what the term 'canon' means.

It's the same with any Sonknux or Knuxouge posts, there is always an influx of comments under them saying that they prefer Rouge or Sonic with Shadow. And I'm stuck thinking, that's great, but why don't you use some of that love you have for them to interact with posts about them, rather than engaging with content you don't like, which will inevitably end up with you seeing more of this and upset the people who do like it, especially the creator who worked hard to make something that you feel the need to shit on because it's not exactly to your tastes?

Another issue that I've seen, that isn't related to a specific fandom, is the rise of 'oh, that's just like my OC!' (And this is done with canon characters as well tbh). Although OCs aren't usually my cup of tea, I have enjoyed many stories that have OCs, and I am obviously happy for people creating content about their own characters outside of fandom spaces as well. And I have no issue with people saying that songs/memes/character dynamics etc remind them of their OC.

It is when people jump on a post of someone talking about their personal issues, or an issue that is harming people, to associate it with their OC, that it becomes insensitive. I saw a post the other day about a person who had been affected negatively by a very real issue, and one of the comments was about how this reminded someone of their OC because their OC had experienced trauma in their past. Like, do you not see how this maybe isn't the right place to bring up your fictional character?

I get that some people project their own trauma onto characters, but a post where someone is describing something that is still having a massive effect on their life because of how horrible it was for them to live through is a terrible place to bring up a character, and shows a disturbing lack of empathy or understanding of etiquette. If someone posts about something traumatic and your first thought is about a character if any kind, that's fine, but if you then hop into the comments to type about a character, you need to understand that this is how you sound: 'oh, your horrific experience and daily struggles remind me of a very not real person. Sucks to be you, but my character got awesome powers out of this situation, and the thing that scarred you physically/mentally makes for a great tragic bakstory for them. Doesn't my character sound cool guys? Let's speak more about my character and not the very real person whose story I am completely talking over in order to make everything about things I like to talk about.'

There is a time and a place to talk about your OCs, and when people are trying to educate on a topic or find a community of people who understand them, that is not your place to interject. If you are giving your character these issues in order to raise awareness/education, make a separate post.

There is definitely more I could say on this topic, both in general and in fandom terms, but this is already a pretty long post, so I am going to call it here for now.

Thanks to anyone who stuck around until the end!

[turtleblogatlast]

Something I like about Leo is that he’s honestly really chill? It’s easy to remember the moments where he’s being obnoxious or excitable but I feel like most of the time he’s incredibly “go with the flow” and has an overall affable demeanor.

[autistic-katara]

icl i would be at least a little happy with almost any ending for stranger things but one thing that would ruin all of it would be an epilogue (of a decade or more later)

[altruistic-meme]

sigh.

[tommyssupercoolblog]

hey how much is sapnap and matpat in the new tommyinnit video, i want to watch but i don't really want to see them

Matpat isn't in it. Sapnap is but it's just Tommy seeing him coming out of a store, asking if he's fucked up mentally, sapnap says no and Tommy is like "nice seeing you" very dryly and sarcasticly, and leaves. A lot of people say Tommy was being a bitch to him on purpose but he has autism and I ALSO have autism so....idfk

[wmnylander]

the reaction to the NHL bringing 4 teams to sweden has been something that's been bugging me for the last few days like no, you don't need to 'grow the game' in sweden. everyone knows that there's already a steadfast loyalty and enjoyment of hockey there. but have any of the north american old men with (unfortunately) access to the internet thought about how accessible these games are to other european fans?? even some fans from non-european countries?? how it's easier for people not in canada/the us to enjoy literally 2 whole games because they're at a normal/manageable time?? that's how you grow the game. it's how you grow any sport. losers.

[which-hospital]

okay I think all of the Sandra S1 posts are out of my system

gonna go listen to I Know The End on loop and think about 38 paramedics and all the dead ones and how the only end for Teddy’s character I would accept is him joining them!

[flovverworks]

pien

[lobpoints]

some boring lc thoughts in dm with friend ig

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