#invoice matching

[littlebellesmama]

Unapplied Cash: Why It Matters and How to Handle It

Behind the numbers and spreadsheets of everyday business, unapplied cash is a quiet disruptor that often goes unnoticed until it starts creating real problems. It’s not as visible as unpaid invoices or as flashy as revenue milestones, but it’s an area that deserves attention. Understanding unapplied cash and taking steps to reduce or clear it is essential for maintaining financial clarity, good…

[pedripics]

❤️

[korrasamibottles]

Sometimes an annoying thing will happen and then it will happen again and then it will happen a third time and all you can do is make a spreadsheet about it. It's so fucked.

[ahollowgrave]

We are entering that weird part of the year where my work is slow af until there is An Issue and then I am sooooo busy until the Issue is Fixed and then I'm back to being bored again

[cantankerouscatfish]

three cheers to one of the like biggest most fanciest priciest hort breeders sending us 4 extra plug trays of random stuff, but no tags for them, and tags for smth we DID order but didn't receive.

[a-reality-dream]

Best part of my work routine is drinking coffee and doing account billings, its like a daily crossword

[sunshinesfreckless]

His Spoiled Kitten

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairing: Idol!Lee Know x fem!reader

Summary: Leeknow loves showing his Favourite Girl who she belongs to.

Warnings: Luxury ownership. Designer collars. ehehehe minho being sexy

A/N: Leeknow arrived to the spoiled series… Han and Changbin are next, don‘t worry my kittens <3

୨ৎ Felix ୨ৎ Hyunjin ୨ৎ Bangchan ୨ৎ Jeongin ୨ৎ Seungmin ୨ৎ Changbin ୨ৎ Han

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Minho didn’t do flashy.

He didn’t need to. He did exclusive.

Her Gucci collection didn’t come from store shelves.

It came from private appointments, whispered calls, and sketches sent to his inbox for approval. Each one designed with her in mind.

A velvet handbag dyed to match the flush on her cheeks when she came for him.

A pair of gold heels engraved with his initials under the sole, so she’d always have him beneath her.

A perfume created by the Gucci lab with notes of peach nectar and white musk — he named it “Mine.”

“I want her to smell like she belongs to me,” he’d told them. “And something sweet. She is sweet.”

He never let her see the invoices.

She didn’t need to.

He’d slide rings onto her fingers mid-conversation, like it was nothing.

Fold jackets over her shoulders in rooms that weren’t cold, just to see her wear his name.

And when Gucci sent over a mini-dress designed for events — deep green silk, bare-backed, dripping with subtle crystals — he only had one response:

“She’ll wear it at home. No one else gets to see her in that.”

And she did.

In their bedroom.

With nothing underneath but a thong he bought to match.

────୨ৎ────

He once got her a travel bag.

Cream leather, soft as sin. Her initials embossed in rose gold on the side.

She laughed. “I don’t travel enough to need this.”

“You will,” he said, zipping it open. “Check the inside.”

She did.

It was packed.

With envelopes.

Each one labeled in his neat, sharp handwriting:

• Paris – for the kiss on the Seine.

• Tokyo – for the night we stay in.

• Milan – for the Gucci headquarters. I want them to see how perfect you are in person.

He’d planned it all. First class, black cars, suites with balconies — and a new outfit for each destination, custom-tailored to her measurements.

“Minho,” she whispered, teary-eyed.

He only smiled, pulling her into his lap. “Told you. You don’t lift a finger unless it’s to touch me.”

And she did.

────୨ৎ────

He swore he just came for a wallet.

Simple. Clean. Black leather, nothing flashy — just something to replace the worn one he’d been using for three years.

But the second she sighed, it was over.

Minho followed her gaze without a word.

The bag was a soft cream Gucci Jackie — butter leather and gold hardware. She didn’t even say anything, just looked once and turned away like it was nothing.

Like she didn’t know he noticed.

He tapped the glass counter lazily. “We’ll take the bag too.”

The cashier brightened. “Anything else? It comes in a set with three—”

“Yes,” he cut in. Didn’t even let her finish.

His Girl turned, eyes wide. “Wait—”

“Choose the other bags,” he said simply, leaning back on the counter. “Whatever you want, kitten.”

The cashier smiled. “Follow me, Miss.”

This wasn’t the first time. Not with Minho.

Her collection was ridiculous by now, a full spectrum of spoiling.

Minho never blinked. Never asked twice.

He just gave.

Like the day he came home with a little velvet box and pulled out a diamond collar.

Not a choker. Not jewelry.

A collar — dainty but unmistakable. With his name engraved in cursive at the center, studded with tiny black diamonds.

“Come here,” he’d said that night, low and calm, snapping it around her throat.

“Now everyone knows who my kitten is, right?”

He’d tilted her chin up, kissed her mouth softly.

And then ruined her on the floor like she was made to be taken with his name glittering at her neck.

God, he loved how it looked when she went down on him like that.

Diamond collar catching the light. Tears sparkling on her cheeks. His hand fisted in her hair while she gagged so sweetly around him.

“Mine,” he’d growled, hips thrusting deeper, “look how fucking pretty my girl is like this.”

Minho didn’t just spoil. He claimed.

────୨ৎ────

He cooked for her like it was sacred.

Wouldn’t let her near a single knife or pan. Just sat her on the counter, fed her from the spoon, kissed her when she whined.

“Let me help—”

“No.”

“But—”

“No, kitten. Sit there and look pretty.”

He’d press kisses to her knee. Sometimes he’d undo the straps of her dress and fuck her right there against the fridge before the water even boiled. He liked to see her tits bounce.

She was soft. Sweet. So good for him.

And he?

He was everything. Rich, controlled, a little dangerous — but hers.

────୨ৎ────

It wasn’t supposed to be used like this.

The scarf had been a gift — crimson silk, embroidered with tiny cats and cherries, a nod to her two favorite things. He’d tied it gently around her neck when he first gave it to her, pressing a kiss just beneath the knot.

But now, it was wet with spit and stuffed between her lips.

“Shhh, baby,” Minho cooed, thumbing away a tear from the corner of her eye. “You’re being so good for me, aren’t you?”

She whimpered, breath catching as he thrust deeper — slow, thick strokes that made her toes curl.

He was behind her, one hand fisted in her hair, the other resting on the small of her back, keeping her arched just the way he liked.

The scarf fluttered with every moan she choked on. Her Gucci gift — now her gag — pressed into her tongue like another brand of ownership.

And he loved it.

Loved seeing her spoiled and ruined, all at once.

A trembling doll made just for him.

“I should buy you another,” he murmured, voice low and amused. “One for every time I make you cry on my cock.”

He pulled back slightly, admiring the string of saliva that connected them to the scarf.

“Maybe one for every orgasm too. Hm?”

She could only sob in response, her walls fluttering around him like she was already saying yes.

────୨ৎ────

Minho had one room in their house locked.

She wasn’t supposed to go in.

But she peeked anyway, one day when he was gone for schedules.

What she found was a vault.

Dozens of boxes. Wrapped. Labeled.

Gucci. Cartier. Loewe. Rare editions. Archived pieces.

All neatly stacked, waiting for the right moment.

Shoes she hadn’t worn yet.

Dresses he never let her even see.

She was still standing there, stunned, when he walked in.

Caught red-handed.

“Tch,” he clicked his tongue. “Curious kitten.”

Before she could apologize, he was already lifting her.

He sat her down — right on top of the stacked boxes. Velvet, silk, leather beneath her thighs.

She gasped.

“Since you’re up here,” he said, pushing her skirt up with slow fingers, “might as well give you a reason to come back.”

Her back hit the wall of the closet. He slid in without warning, one hand around her throat, his other gripping her thigh.

“Every one of these gifts,” he grunted against her ear, “is yours. But I’m your favorite, right?”

She nodded desperately, gasping against his mouth.

“Say it.”

“You,” she whimpered. “You’re my favorite gift.”

He smiled.

And made her scream that line three more times.

────୨ৎ────

But oh — she was in love with him. Not just the diamonds or the handbags or the silken scarf still damp with the memory of him.

No, she loved the way he looked at her when she was curled up on the couch in his hoodie, hair a mess, a cat asleep on each thigh.

She loved how he melted when she fed his babies before he even got the chance — Soonie, Doongie, and Dori happily flocking to her, as if she’d always belonged.

And he did too.

Some nights, he came home exhausted. His limbs heavy from hours of practice, his voice hoarse, his energy drained. But then he opened the door — and there she was.

His girl. His home.

Bundled up in the blanket he always said was too warm, half-asleep, a drama playing on low volume, and the cats purring beside her like guardians.

Her eyes lit up when she saw him.

“You’re back,” she whispered.

And he’d kneel at her feet, bury his face in her stomach, arms wrapped around her waist like a man starved.

“You stayed up?”

“Always.”

Because no matter how much he spoiled her — she was the one who gave him peace. Who gave him softness. Who never let him go to bed without a kiss, or leave the house without a snack.

He pressed his lips to hers, slow and sleepy.

“You’re the best thing I’ve ever bought,” he teased, and she smacked his arm.

“I’m not for sale.”

“Exactly,” he murmured. “You’re priceless.”

And she was.

The one thing he couldn’t put in a shopping bag.

Only in his heart.

[fazcinatingblog]

Would my boss hate that there's like three desks downstairs that are all sort of mine, there's my normal desk (without a computer) then my other desk that has the computer and then Jenette's desk that we use to lodge things but three desks for ONE PERSON

[iimplicitt]

Ahhh okay I'm so glad you like the idea, I was kinda nervous ngl <3

HUNGRY EYES PART ONE | LN4 OP81

pairings: business partners landoscar x secretary! character

a/n-warnings: suggestive themes, language, inappropriate work relationship, secret relationships, older! lando & older! oscar, 18+, unprotected! smut, age gap (secretary is in her 20s), power play, sir! kink is alive and thriving, semi-public smut, choking, spitting, fingering, oral! (fem receiving), multiple parts SORRY i got carried away

wc: 4.6k

“She’s mine,” Oscar bit out, tempted to punch his long time business partner in the face.

“Sure, mate.” Lando smiled, looking wicked. “Wasn’t what she was telling me inside of my office, though.”

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Her first month had been uneventful, to say the least. The paperwork was plenty, the calls all rerouted, emails answered swiftly, but still she grew bored halfway through the day. Pen tapping against the desk, the click click click matching in rhythm with the clock mounted on the wall behind her. As if taunting, each tick telling her she was wasting her youth away.

She could never rest easy, never felt like she could even lounge. Always performing, keeping her posture in check.

So many men around.

The hallways of the law firm constantly paraded by swathes of testosterone. Glowing eyes that looked at her chest as they muttered their good mornings as they walked to their desks. Or their gazes would be fixed on the two doorways on either side of her. Anxiety knitting their brows and tongues being burnt on too hot coffee.

This morning was different than no other, only there was a voice muffled behind the door on her left. Mr. Piastri was in office today. Early, he had been there when she arrived. Already in a meeting and an email waiting in her inbox, asking for invoices. A space down a PSA, not to be late.

She ground her jaw. She was never late. In fact, as her eyes flicked back to clock behind her she was early.

Biting her tongue, she simply sat herself down and smoothed out her skirt. Attaching the necassey files and ignoring his last statement, aggressively hitting send.

In her time there she had hardly spoken a word to him. Neither of them, really, her bosses. They didn’t frequent the building often, probably out doing business on some yacht in Monaco. Meetings drowning in champagne before waltzing into courtrooms with their three pieced suits and egos so big Narcissus would go slack jawed.

The few times she had spoken to them it tended be one sided. Their gazes on their phones as they walked by her desk, their only conversations, if she could call them that, done over email.

But she would watch the other men in the office, how they held their breaths, eyes waiting, practically drooling anytime either of them walked in the doors or held a meeting.

She grew rather spiteful.

Watching through the glass of the meeting room across the floor as Mr. Norris, the other owner, stood casually with a hand in his pocket as he went over some presentation. Seeing how the men of the firm practically swayed with each movement.

Great Mr. Norris. Brilliant Mr. Norris. Shining Mr. Norris. God-like Mr. Norris.

How the endearments piled up.

She scoffed.

“Problem?”

She flinched, turning to see Mr. Piastri leaned against the tall edge of her desk on one elbow, following her glance to the conference room and a barely there smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but other than that his expression remained blank. Stoney. As it always had been. Even when she heard him in meetings, his tone was always even. Dry. Slightly rough around the edges, but even tempered.

Commanding.

She swallowed dryly. “No, sir.”

His eyes turned back to her, his brown eyes looking dark in the lighting of the office. Shadows danced across the sharp planes of his face, casting certain parts into darkness. Making up a phantom. Staring at her as if he’d only just realised she was there.

“It doesn’t paint a pretty picture if our secretary is scowling at the CEO.” He commented, voice smooth. Sometimes it felt like he hated her. She often caught him staring at her, the slightest of frowns on his lips. Practically invisible, but there. She couldn’t read him. Which unnerved her. Nearly all the men in this office were like an open book, their pages pathetically falling open in her lap.

“I didn’t realise I was here to look pretty.” She shouldn’t have said it but the words were out into the air nonetheless.

He blinked at her, eyes slowly dancing to her name plate and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course he’d forgotten her name.

Mr. Piastri’s tongue ran along the inside of his cheek as he looked at her again. Really looked at her. Taking her in from head to toe and she felt a blush start to flare up her neck from his apt attention.

“You aren’t. Nor are you here to scowl.” He tapped a quick rhythm on her desk. “Don’t be late tomorrow morning.”

She should’ve waited till she heard his office door shut when she next spoke, “prick.”

Maybe she would’ve paled if she realised he’d heard her. Maybe she would’ve seen that string pull at the corners of his lips again before he disappeared inside his office.

Her eyes drifted to Mr. Norris again, her eyes narrowing slighting over her monitor as she watched an easy smile grace his lips as the presentation concluded. Muffled applause sounded from the conference room and she found her fingers hitting the keyboard a little harder than usual.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

“Good morning.”

She jumped slightly at the words, careful not to spill her coffee as she looked up at the passing figure of Mr. Piastri.

Was she imagining things? They hadn’t spoken in two weeks. Then again, he hadn’t been in the office since then. But he had never once said good morning to her.

“Good morning?” It left her like a question as she stared after him, only catching a glimpse of the slightly amused expression he wore before he shut the door to his office.

When she turned she jumped again, this time she did spill coffee and the hot liquid soaked into her white blouse. A string of curses leaving her lips as she quickly pulled the fabric away from her burning skin.

Her other boss, Mr. Norris, standing in front of her desk looking anything but sorry.

He clicked his tongue. “Someone is jumpy.”

She couldn’t help it as she stared at him. He’d never come to talk to her, not since her first day when he showed her where her desk was and that was it.

His eyes flicked down to her soaked top, his expression unreadable. “Are you busy?”

“I—“

“I need you to accompany me on a meeting.”

“Now?”

He hummed, already beginning to walk away.

“But,” she looked down at her shirt, at the list of emails she needed to answer, at the stacks of paperwork. “I— Mr. Norris—“

“We don’t have all day,” he called over his shoulder, his finger already pressing into the lift button.

Feeling as though her brain was short circuiting, she quickly scraped a notepad and pens into her purse before following after him. Sparing a glance to Mr. Piastri’s office, wondering if he knew where she’d run off to.

Stepping into the lift behind him, she swallowed thickly and kept her distance. Her wet shirt already started to feel cold and she wondered if she was having some sort of nightmare.

She eyed her boss out of the corner of her eye, watching how the light caught against his tan skin and sharp features. His hair always a mess of curls, a contrast to the neat hairstyle Mr. Piastri always adorned.

With shaking hands, she took out her phone and began drafting an email to the whole office, saying she would be out in a meeting when a large hand suddenly covered her phone screen.

Eyes flicking up, she was taken aback by how glittering his eyes looked. Darkened by the shadow of his thick lashes.

“That won’t be necessary.” He muttered, pulling his hand away before shoving it back in the pocket of his slacks.

“What?” She said dumbly.

“This meeting is a need to know sort of thing.”

She raised a brow. “Okay, but everyone is going to be wondering where I went.”

He looked down at her, a crease lightly forming between his brow. “Do they really bother you that much?”

She balked at him. “What is it that you think I do all day?”

His lips tugged to the side, revealing a dimple. “Make coffee?”

She could’ve sworn her eye twitched before a light laugh left him. “I’m kidding. They’ll survive you being gone for a few hours. Besides, maybe they’ll actually get their work done.”

“Meaning?”

The lift doors opened and he stepped out, leaving her to follow after him.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

She had gotten caught up late into the evening, well past the office closure to catch up on everything to-do, due to their shareholder meeting Mr. Norris had taken her to.

He was… not what she was expecting.

Sure, she saw how the men praised him from afar. But to actually sit next to him, watching how charismatic he was. Words woven carefully, expertly twining around those he was doing business with… she felt a little dazed. Or maybe that was the wine.

Nonetheless her cheeks were rosy and she was charmed. Not to mention he had taken her shopping for a new top.

Saying she could have whatever else she wanted but the whole thing felt entirely overwhelming. She wasn’t used to his attention.

Her whole body felt too warm as she stepped out of the dressing room to look in the mirror, catching the sight of him in the reflection leaning against the wall, eyes on her and tongue running along the inside of his cheek.

It felt wrong. Unprofessional. But nothing was happening, she knew that.

Mr. Norris was just… a lot.

She shook the memory away as she gathered her things, the only light in the office being her lamp and the red glow of the emergency exits.

Just as she shut off her lamp, a crack of lightning followed by the blinding light flickered through the windows and she groaned. Of course it would rain.

She looked down at her new shirt, knowing it was about to get soaked all over again because she didn’t have a coat or umbrella.

When she stepped outside, she rocked on her heels for a moment as she stood under the awning. Her eyes watched as rain pellets shot to the pavement and exploded against the already flooding streets of London.

Sighing, she held her bag close to her side and stepped out into the storm, the rain making quick work to drench her from head to toe as she walked.

She tried to hail a cab as she made her way towards the station. Anything to get out of her current predicament, eyes squinting against the blinding lights and the shadows playing tricks on her.

It wasn’t the safest scenario, she knew that. A woman out in the night, alone for that matter, was like a beacon for trouble.

So when a sleek black car slowed down she kept her head low and kept walking, her teeth chattering slightly and her heart racing before it came to an abrupt halt as a voice rang out from the vehicle.

Her name carried on the storm by a familiar voice.

She paused, her heels clicking against the puddles around her feet and she turned, trying to see through the window that had rolled down.

“Mr. Piastri?”

His expression for the most part was neutral, but his eyes glowed from the baseboard, looking at her like she was insane.

She probably looked insane. Wet strands of hair fell in her face and mascara was running down her cheeks in rivers of charcoal.

“Get in.”

“But sir—“

“Get in the car.”

His tone left no room for argument and she quickly slipped into the seat, the expensive smell of leather surrounding her and she watched as he reached a hand out to turn up the heat.

She still shivered, eyeing him like a deer in headlights as the car pulled away from the curb.

“I—“ she looked around the sports car, feeling a lump in her throat. “Your seats—“

His fingers flexed on the steering wheel, not looking at her. His whole body stiff. The air tense. “I’ll live.”

She blinked at him. Her mind not quite catching up. This was the second time she found herself alone with one of her bosses in a car that day. Only this time around the waters felt much more complicated to navigate.

He seemed agitated. Though his features were stoney and blank as per usual, there was something palpable circulating around him.

She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to say anything. The silence felt awkward and she played with a wet strand of her hair for a moment. “Sir-“

“Why on earth were you out there walking? In the rain, might I add.” His fingers flexed again. “Alone”

Her mouth opened a couple of times. So he was annoyed at her? Her brows furrowed. “I had to work late.”

His jaw rolled slightly. “Right, Lando.” Her other boss’s name left his mouth like a curse. “I have no idea why he took you to that damned meeting. And now look at you. Wandering the streets—“

“I’m not five, you arse.” She snapped. Not loving his tone but she could mildly appreciate his concern. She had to then remind herself this was her boss and she bit her tongue, pulling her eyes away from him. “Sorry,” she muttered.

It was silent for a moment and she began to worry she had royally fucked up.

Mr. Piastri’s voice was quiet, his voice nearly as warm as the heat blowing out of the vents. “That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one day.”

She froze for a moment before her fingers tightened on the hem of her skirt. Her stomach swirled a bit, a combination of worry and something else that was wholly inappropriate. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean—“

A light laugh left him, though it seemed more of an exhale.

He still wouldn’t look at her.

“It’s fine, your bluntness is appreciated. That being said, I prefer you didn’t call me anything such as a twat in front of my employees.”

She was being let in. Only a little bit. She couldn’t help it as she started to smile. “So only in private, then?”

She watched in fascination as that string pulled slightly at his mouth, his dark eyes sliding over to her for only a moment and it made her head spin. Her stomach swoop.

“Only in private,” Mr. Piastri muttered.

She felt like a line was being crossed. Just slightly. It was being carefully tread. Invaded. Redrawn. She knew better. Then again, maybe she was just delusional.

Her eyes then widened as she realised something. “Oh, I never told you my address.”

His fingers thrummed against the steering wheel, a nervous tick maybe? Did she make him nervous? The street lights made his eyes glow every few seconds and the smell of his rich cologne swirled around her.

He was quiet for a moment and she was about to just tell him where she lived to fill the silence when he finally spoke, the words snatching the air from her lungs.

“How about a drink?”

Her lips parted slightly, taken off guard by his suggestion. It was an offering. She knew that, she wasn’t stupid. But she still felt like she needed to pinch herself to see if this was real.

“Is that allowed?” She wanted to slap herself for the dumb question. She knew she needed to be smart about this but the air was hot and heavy, her head swirling, and when he looked at her again his eyes briefly danced down to her mouth and she threw her common sense out the window.

“It’s a yes or no, darling.”

His eyes held hers as street lights flicked by, the hum of the engine rattling her to her core and the world was spinning.

The word yes left her in an exhale.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

It was reckless. Utterly stupid. Wildly inappropriate. A screaming HR violation.

But the wine had made the world feel fuzzy and made her feel like the world was at her fingertips. That at the end of the day, did it really matter?

The world was ending, so fuck it. Right?

That’s what she kept telling herself.

That’s what she told herself as he pulled up to a nice bar. That’s what she told herself as she let him order a bottle. It’s what she told herself as she downed another glass. What her mind whispered as they stumbled into the back of a cab, the liquor in her veins making the world come alive as she felt the brush of his body against hers in the back seat. It’s what she told herself as she laughed behind her hand as she watched him struggle to open the door to his flat.

It was only a quiet murmur as she leaned against the counter, watching him pour two more glasses. Taking in the drunken flush of his cheeks and how his usually perfect hair was disheveled. Unkempt.

He looked devastatingly handsome.

She wasn’t doing anything wrong.

She’d gone out drinking with plenty of coworkers before.

They hadn’t even properly touched.

It was fine.

Cordial.

Friendly.

Until it wasn’t.

She leaned over the table, looking at some of his records he had brought out when he was suddenly behind her. His presence a heavy shadow before slowly she felt his body press into hers, his hands falling right next to her own on the table. Surrounding her. He was restraining himself, just barely. His breath held as his mouth danced close to her neck.

Her eyes flicked down to their hands. Almost touching. Her heart beat in her ears.

She wrapped her pinky over his index finger.

Permission.

She was spun around, his mouth on hers, the sudden contact almost violent as he backed her against the window that overlooked London from his penthouse. Her head would’ve slammed into the glass, but his hand had snaked into her hair and absorbed the pressure.

His fingers twining, tight, and yanked. Making her mouth fall open in a moan and he all but lunged on the opportunity. Tongue slipping into her mouth and exploring, his own groan leaving him and he slowly became unbound.

She felt more intoxicated in the sight of him unraveling than any of the alcohol she had drank. Oscar Piastri was always so composed. It felt like a privilege to see him like this. A power trip to know she was the one undoing him.

She couldn’t think as his mouth slid down to her jaw. Couldn’t think as his teeth sunk in, biting and soothing. Couldn’t summon a thought as his thigh wedged between her legs making her moan.

She didn’t think about how he was her boss. Didn’t think about how he was too old for her. Didn’t think about how half of London could see her riding his thigh and his hands pulling up her skirt.

He pulled back slightly, eyelids heavy and his fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt.

“Did he buy you this?”

She felt dazed. Her hands falling lightly from his hair to his shoulders as she looked down at her blouse. “Oh, Mr. Norris—“

The sudden sound of fabric ripping cut her off, her gasp barely leaving her before he was on her again. Her shirt fell to the floor in tatters, the cool air biting at her skin and she shivered when his warm hands danced up her back to undo her bra.

Just as it fell to the floor he picked her up as if it was nothing, her legs easily wrapping around his waist as he carried her through his home.

He kicked open a door which she could only assume was his bedroom before she let out a quiet yell as he dropped her onto his bed.

She sat up in her elbows, her mouth dry as she watched him undo the buttons of his shirt.

“Take off your skirt.”

“I—“

His hand reached out and gripped her jaw, tight but not painful, making her look up at him.

God, he was devastating.

Brown hair fell over his eyes, his cheekbones looking carved from marble by the low lighting of his room and he stared down at her, his gaze lustful and coated in barely tempered violence.

“Do as you're told.”

“Yes, sir.”

His fingers slid down to her neck and tightened as he tugged her forward, landing a messy kiss on her lips before dropping back to continue undressing himself. All the while his watchful gaze stayed on her as he observed her slip out of her skirt.

When she went to reach for her underwear he slapped her hand away as he crawled on top of her, spreading her legs with his knees as he went.

Mr. Piastri laced his fingers with hers and dragged her hands up above her head, his lips dragging against her ear as he leaned down.

“You have been haunting me, I hope you know that.” His teeth dragged down her throat, making her gasp as he settled his weight between her hips. She could feel him. All of him. Her thin underwear not leaving much to the imagination.

Part of her couldn’t believe this was happening. The other part didn’t want to think at all.

He leaned back and picked up his tie from where he had thrown his shirt on the bed, holding eye contact as he leaned over her again to tie her wrists back, then looping it around his head board.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

She loved it.

Before she could realise what was happening, he was sliding down her body and pushing her knees back, up, and out. Mouth latching onto her through her underwear and her hips bucked up at the heat of his mouth.

It was dizzying. And a bit embarrassing if she were honest, given the noises that were leaving her mouth and her body felt like it was being scorched as he laughed into her before pulling her underwater aside, fingers sinking in.

She clenched around him, desperate for anything. More. Hands tugging on their restraints and her back arching off the bed.

He leaned up on one hand, the other still dragging in and out of her, smiling like a devil who had just struck a bargain.

“Oh you young thing,” he mused. He was watching her so carefully. His voice dropping into a tone she’d never heard him use before. “You’re dripping.”

A whine left her involuntarily and he shut his eyes briefly at the sound.

“This is wrong,” he muttered, but still he lowered himself to his knees, nose dusting along the inside of her thighs. Making her shiver in anticipation.

“Please,” she managed to get out, breathless as she watched him.

“God, forgive me.” And he dove in like a man starved, fingers picking up their pace, another added, his mouth latching onto her clit.

She was shamelessly grinding into her boss’s face.

He was fucking her with his fingers and tongue, making her see stars. That small voice in the back of her head mumbled what on earth am I doing? But it was quickly snuffed out as she came. Hard. All over his face and his name was a shout ripped from her lungs.

He was climbing over her again but the world was still flickering in and out of focus as she came down from her high. His face buried in her neck and she gasped, arms yanking down but they were still bound tight as he sank into her, pushing her well beyond overstimulation.

She cried out, feeling more so than hearing him laugh into her neck as he slowly pulled out before slamming into her again. The thrust was brutal and unforgiving. Delicious and painful. Electric.

Too much.

He leaned back, one hand on her waist to yank her down onto his cock as the other rubbed circles into her clit.

She began to shake her head, tears pricking her eyes, moaning and everything was too vibrant. She was trembling. Coming again already but he didn’t stop.

“I can’t, I can’t—“

“No?” He said softly, slowing down his digits and he began to pull out of her. “That’s too bad,” he tsk-d. The sudden emptiness felt like whiplash and she was about to backtrack what she said when he suddenly yanked her back down on his cock, his hips rolling forward to somehow get even deeper than before. “You’re going to be a good girl and take it, though. Aren’t you?”

“I— Sir, oh my god—“

His hand snaked around her throat, choking her as he fucked her. “Use your words.”

“Yes,” she gasped out, feeling light headed with the pressure of his palm.

His hips snapped against hers. A warning.

She quickly corrected herself. “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Piastri’s hand left her throat and she sharply breathed in air, though it quickly left her again as he hand found his way back down to her cunt.

Barely a second later she was coming again, liquid squirting out and over his abdomen. It was almost painful, too much, too everything. Wonderful.

“God, what he would do to see you like this,” he muttered against her skin and she wasn’t sure she heard him right. Who? Her body tried to pull back as he kept thrusting into her, though he got more sloppy. Erratic. He was close.

Something snapped in her. A woman possessed, perhaps. Dazed and fucked out, maybe.

She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist and met her hips up with his thrusts, deeper and painful. A moan mixed in with her voice as she said, “more.”

“Fuck,” he rasped out, fingers digging into her hips so hard it was going to leave bruises and she watched in fascination as he came. His head was thrown back, the muscles in his stomach tightened and sweat glistened along his body as she felt his release began to drip out of her as he slowed down his pace before coming to a stop with his hips sealed to hers.

He collapsed, arms briefly catching himself so he didn’t crush her but she didn’t mind. Everything was so hazy. It felt like heaven, having him so close.

She wanted to touch him, desperately, only to have the reminder her hands were still tied and they began to feel sore.

“Sir,” her voice was soft, scared to break the spell.

He lifted his head. He himself looked dazed, a beautiful mess she felt honored to see. Fucked out in his own way and his eyes drifted to her hands, that smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he reached up and untied her.

Her hands fell, the flesh tender around her wrists and she felt her heart lurch a little as he rested his head back down on her chest. Exhausted and still feeling the tail end of intoxication.

Slowly, her hands drifted into his hair, playing with it softly.

“Oscar,” he said. His voice made her pause as she felt his heartbeat slowing against her skin.

“What?”

He lifted his head to rest his chin on her sternum and her hands fell from his hair to hold his face, her thumbs dancing along his cheekbones. His eyes were glowing and his own hand reached out to tuck loose hair that had fallen behind her ear.

“Call me Oscar.”

She smiled slightly. “Only in private?”

He observed her for another moment, still hard to read but that was okay.

Eventually he leaned up, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of her head.

“Only in private.”

part two

Tag list: @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @c8lap1nto @ashbone @taasgirl @stopeatread @dying-inside-but-its-classy (let me know if you’d like to be added to the list!)

[heartsiebyul]

Twisted Wonderland Characters when their lover runs into the rain and asks them to dance.

NRC Second Years

Riddle Rosehearts

The rain fell like a curtain outside the Heartslabyul dorm, gentle at first, then steadily heavier. You and Riddle had been walking hand-in-hand, when you suddenly broke free with a grin.

“(name)? Wait—where are you going?” Riddle called out as you dashed onto the wet path, arms spread like wings.

Rain soaked through your clothes instantly, but you only laughed, spinning beneath the gray sky like it was a ballroom ceiling.

“Come on!” you shouted back, hair clinging to your cheeks. “Let’s dance!”

“Have you completely lost your mind?! You’ll get sick—!”

“You’ll be fine if you join me, my prince.”

His face flushed a deeper red than his hair. “P-Prince? I—! This is utterly improper—!”

You did a graceful twirl, and extended your hand with a teasing glint in your eye. He hesitated, lips parted to argue—then sighed in defeat. “Just this once. But if we catch a cold, I’m making herbal tea every hour.”

He stepped into the rain stiffly but softened as your arms wrapped around him.

His hands found yours, hesitant at first, then firm, as the two of you moved in a slow waltz beneath the cloudy sky.

Riddle even bowed at the end, one hand over his chest, soaking wet and utterly breathless.

And the very next morning, Riddle was the first one to sneeze.

Ruggie Bucchi

“Oi, (name)!” Ruggie’s voice cracked with alarm as you sprinted straight into the downpour. “That’s water, not free lunch!”

You grinned back, arms flung open to the sky. “Ruggie, let's dance!”

“I ain’t built for romance in a puddle, man—!”

“C’mon, my prince,” you teased, bowing dramatically. “May I have this dance?”

He squinted through the rain at you, visibly debating whether it was worth getting his tail soaked. But your grin was too infectious.

“Tch. You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, jogging out to meet you.

The second he reached you, he didn’t hesitate—he swept you into a fast, twirling spin that sent your feet skidding through puddles.

Your laughter burst out, echoing through the quiet rain as he dipped you low with showman flair, one arm snug around your waist and the other extended outward like you were the stars of a rain-drenched stage.

“I better get a warm blanket and free cookies after this,” he said with a sly smile.

You both ended up laughing, hair dripping and clothes stuck to your skin. You sneezed first. Then he did.

“Great. We’re matching now.”

Azul Ashengrotto

“Oh no. No no no. (name), get back here immediately!” Azul shouted, his umbrella still neatly folded under one arm.

You laughed, spinning dramatically in the rain. “Join me, Azul! Just one dance!”

“This isn’t a movie musical! This is how people get pneumonia!”

“But it’s romantic, isn’t it?” You extended a hand and bowed. “Let me waltz with the most dashing gentleman under the storm.”

His mouth opened to protest—but then you smiled like that, all bright-eyed and full of mischief, and Azul cursed under his breath. “If I die from this, I’m haunting you forever.”

He stepped into the rain and immediately shivered, You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, and he exhaled shakily, his body slowly relaxing into your touch.

Despite his protests, Azul moved with practiced elegance. His steps matched yours perfectly, even in the uneven rhythm of falling rain. His hand on your waist was firm but gentle, guiding you like you were gliding across a ballroom floor instead of a muddy courtyard.

For a moment, the world faded into a blur of grey and soft laughter.

When he dipped you at the end, glasses foggy and hair soaked, you both burst into laughter.

You got sick the next morning.

And yes, he did write you an invoice for the tissues and medicines but calmly doting you like a nurse.

Jade Leech

You ran into the rain without warning, the sudden downpour soaking your clothes within seconds.

“Ah… what a curious impulse,” Jade mused aloud, watching you from under the courtyard's archway. “You’ll catch cold, you know.”

“Then come dance with me!” you called, spinning. “What’s life without a little risk?”

Jade’s heterochromatic eyes gleamed. “How thrilling.”

He strode out with a calm smile and bowed low like a nobleman. “May I have this dance, my dearest?”

You curtsied back with a grin, and he took your hand. His steps were fluid and perfectly timed, every twirl controlled, every dip precise. Your bodies moved in eerie, perfect synchronicity, like a scene from a forgotten dream.

Rain beaded on his lashes and trickled down his neck—but his smile never faltered.

He twirled you gently under the rain, hands firm and reassuring. “I must admit… you make madness seem quite beautiful.”

The next day, you sneezed so hard you startled your classmates.

And, Jade never left your side—brewing herbal teas and giving you tissues.

Floyd Leech

As soon as the hard rain hit, Floyd’s reaction was: “WOAHHH! It’s like the ocean from the sky!”

You ran into the open yard laughing, and Floyd chased after you with a shark grin. “Shrimpy! You’re gonna slip and break your cute little nose!”

“Then dance with me before I fall!” you challenged.

He didn’t need to be asked twice. He grabbed your hand and spun you, lifting you half off the ground and howling with joy. “We’re dancin’! We’re spinnin’! Who needs dry clothes?!”

The rain drenched you both in seconds, water streaming down your faces and plastering your clothes to your skin. Floyd’s laughter echoed through the courtyard as he twirled you again—this time dipping you low before pulling you back up with a sharp tug that sent your heart flipping.

The two of you slipped in the mud at least once, laughing so hard your stomachs hurt.

Later, sneezing into a towel, Floyd blinked at you and said, “Aww, my Shrimpy’s getting sick. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you~ We can skip class together!”

Azul was not pleased.

Kalim Al-Asim

“(name)!” Kalim squealed, delighted. “You’re gonna get soaked!”

“I already am! Come on—dance with me!”

Without hesitation, Kalim flung off his blazer and leapt into the rain like a child. “This is awesome!”

He grabbed your hands and spun you in a circle, laughing so hard you nearly stumbled. “Like we’re in a water festival back home!”

You danced, twirled, and Kalim even lifted you like a prince on a musical stage. He bowed dramatically and kissed your hand, then wiggled his eyebrows.

"How was that? Romantic isn't it?" he beamed, eyes sparkling as raindrops slid down his cheeks.

Before you could answer, he spun you again, laughing freely. “Let’s make it a memory we’ll never forget!”

Of course, the next day you were both coughing, but Kalim insisted, “Best day ever! Worth it!”

Jamil sighed in the background and prepared cold medicine.

Jamil Viper

“Are you trying to get sick?” Jamil asked, exasperated, watching you play in the rain.

“Trying? Nah. But dancing in the rain? That’s art.”

You offered your hand. “Join me?”

He looked down at his dry clothes, then up at your expectant face, and sighed like a man at the end of his rope. “You’re lucky I like you.”

He came over, graceful despite himself, and pulled you into a tight embrace, the warmth of his arms a sharp contrast to the cold rain soaking through your clothes. The two of you waltzed slowly, his movements smooth and deliberate, practiced from years of formal Scarabia events. Every step was controlled, every turn precise—but his eyes never left yours.

The rain cascaded down his dark hair, clinging to his lashes, but he didn’t seem to notice. His hand at your waist was firm, grounding, yet his touch lingered like he didn’t want to let go.

“You’re a terrible influence,” he muttered into your ear.

“But you’re smiling,” you teased.

He twirled you once. “...Shut up.”

And still, you danced—like you were the only two people in the world.

Next day, the fever was immediate. He scolded you while making soup—but didn’t deny it was fun.

Silver

You darted into the courtyard as rain began to fall, twirling beneath the gray sky with your arms outstretched.

Silver blinked awake from his light doze. “(Name)? It’s raining—don’t you want to stay dry?”

“Come dance with me, Silver!” you called, voice bright. “Just for a little while!”

He rose slowly, walking into the downpour with a dreamy smile. “If it’s with you…”

He took your hand gently, bowed like a fairytale prince, and led you into a slow, elegant waltz. The rain painted the world in silver, soft droplets glistening on his lashes as if the sky itself wept in awe. Your footsteps echoed against the stone, a rhythmic hush accompanying the quiet music only your hearts could hear.

His hand on your waist was warm despite the cold, grounding you in a moment that felt impossibly magical. With every turn, the world melted away—until it was just you, him, and the rain.

“I feel like I’m in a dream,” he murmured, his voice barely louder than the rain.

“Then let’s never wake up,” you whispered, your eyes meeting his through the falling droplets.

Silver’s gaze softened, full of quiet affection. He reached up and gently cupped your cheek. For a moment, he simply looked at you—like you were the most precious thing in his world. Then, without a word, he leaned in and kissed you—soft, unhurried, and full of feeling. The rain continued to fall around you, but all you could feel was him.

Unfortunately—you wake up with a fever the next morning.

Silver tended to you while sneezing.

“Worth it,” you both whispered.

still confused about the Octavinelle trio like?? are they “H2O: Just Add Water” coded or not??? but anyway we’re pretending they’re not because my brain said ✨plot✨

i had a dream about this scenario, woke up, and immediately wrote it down. and THAT, my friends, is how I professionally delude myself. lmao 🫡

Let me know if you guys want the other characters as well~

[littlebellesmama]

Understanding Invoices, Billing, and Payment Terms: A Simple Guide to Getting Paid Right

If you’ve ever sold a product or service, you already know how important it is to get paid on time. But when money is involved, there’s more than just sending a bill and hoping it gets paid. Behind every successful business transaction, there’s a system that keeps things organized, clear, and traceable. This system lives in a world full of terms like invoices, credit memos, remittance advice,…

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Bathroom invoice has arrived; they quoted me $19450 and the final bill was $20500 which is impressive. That's the closest (in terms of percentage) I've ever had a quote match the actual work, usually they way lowball it and send you a massive bill. Great to deal with an honest plumber.

[pauvre-lola]

hi hi 🧚‍♀️

I'm offering a new format of commissions (in addition to my regular work), a BG3 inspired character sheet for all of your tadpoles walk walk fashion babies 💅✨️

Price is 180 euros, payment upfront and by paypal invoice. It includes two outfits : a travel/armor outfit and a camp/long rest outfit. It's totally possible to request more outfits, as long are references are provided 👍 Count between 30 and 60 euros per additionnal outfits, depending on its complexity.

Outside of anything revelant to your oc, colors and background are also customisable, tho I insist the background must stay abstract !

To start working on your piece, I'll need a quick description of your oc's appearance, with visual references of them and their outfits. You can tell me a bit about their personnality so I can come up with a pose that match their vibes, and their (or yours ! ) favorite colors.

If you're interested, contact me with the details and references needed at lolavagabonde@gmail.com 💌

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

The Things I Can Do To Her (One Shot)

(A much requested follow up to The Things I Want To Do To Her)

Marvel AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (a mention of Steve Rogers x Reader)

Theme: A/B/O

Summary: Bucky doesn't want to meet you. It's not that he doesn't want you. He's seen the photos. He's heard the stories from your mutual friends. You're the most beautiful omega he's ever seen, and you sound kind, fun, intelligent and possibly a bit of a handful. You'd be a good match for him AND Steve according to Natasha. He has no problem with sharing, he's not a prude. But that's the problem. Bucky has always been a little kinky, but over the years and as his alpha grew desperate for a mate, it had taken a new form. And that would be too much for you right?

Now he's met you, he's on your tail.

Warnings: A/B/O, sex, rough sex, lack of condom use. It's dirty. You've been warned. Also this is my first time writing smut!!!

You know Bucky's on your tail when you pull the car door closed. His scent nears as the car pulls away and you catch sight of him heading towards you.

"Home Miss?" The driver asks.

"Yes please, as quick as you can."

The joys of having fancy friends, means they connect you with fancy services like personal shoppers, the best restaurants and cars with drivers. Nat tells you they are all handpicked, mostly ex-military and as they drive, and quickly as you've asked, they do so with precision and safety. They're all on the pack payroll and you've told Natasha, as well as Tony, that you'll only use it if they let you pay but you're still yet to see an invoice.

When the driver pulls up outside your apartment you thank him and say goodnight. It's as the doorman opens the door to your building and you hear a screech of tires that you know you're about to have a visitor. You glance briefly down the street and see a car similar to the one you've just been dropped off in, swing quickly but with precision around the corner.

Stan the doorman dips his hat to you as you stroll up the steps.

"Good night Miss?"

"A mixed bag of events Stan." You reply as he opens the door, you pick up your pace a little as you here a car stop and a door open nearby. Bucky's scent wafts up your nose.

"You know that smirk looks like trouble Miss."

"Me? Never."

You’re one step into the lobby when there's a growl.

"OMEGA!!!!"

It's deep and primal and goes straight between your legs. You pick up the pace as Stan calls after you.

"Shall I shoot him or let him in?"

"Let him in." You laugh, walking as quickly as your red bottomed boots will allow. You press the elevator button repeatedly as Bucky enters the lobby. Your inner omega is giddy as you glance over your shoulder and watch your alpha stride in. Stan clearly recognises him and he salutes him as he passes. He mouths the words 'war hero' at you like you don't know. Bucky's towering stature and broad frame soon blocks your view of grey-haired Stan. You step in quickly to the elevator when the doors open. You hit the button to close the doors. You think you've been clever, you really do. Stupidly thinking there's enough space between the elevator, you, Bucky and the lobby, you take a breath and relax for a split second. As the elevator dings and the doors close you realise your aren't alone. There's a breath near your ear, a warm body against your back, an arm slips around your waist and Bucky's scent is everywhere. He pulls you roughly back into his chest, running his nose down your cheek before rubbing it against the mating bond between the dip in of your neck and shoulder.

"You think you're so damn clever don't you Omega." He growled as he started to nibble at your bond.

You feel something hard prodding against your ass and push back.

“You liked your gifts then?”

Bucky growled in response, rolling his hips into your ass. You pushed back smirking to yourself.

“You know…..I didn’t realise The Hobbit would get you going like this? If you’re looking for something more racy let me know.” You quip, as you try and turn in his arms. As you do your leg grazes something in Bucky’s free hand. You glance down and see the gift bag.

"Oh, you don't want them?" You ask, a tint of disappointment in your voice.

"What?" He replies, completely puzzled by your question.

"It's fine, I'll speak to Tony's guy see if I can resell them." You tell him, reaching for the bag.

"I didn't say I didn't want them. I wasn't going to leave them in the bar, not with those drunk idiots passing beer and shots around like circus clowns with water buckets."

"Well if you don't want them I'll just take them back." You say, reaching for the bag.

"I want them Omega." He replies, purring in a way you wonder if he's still meaning the gifts.

The elevator pings for your floor and you push away from him as the doors open, stepping out and walking towards your apartment door. Bucky watches you for a moment. Observing the sway of your hips and how your dress drapes beautifully around your ass.

"Goodnight James." You say, unlocking the door. Bucky's not sure what pisses him of more. The fact you're not even casting him a glance or that you've called him James and not Alpha. When he realises you've stepped into you apartment and the elevator doors are about to close, he acts quickly. Striding across the hallway, he kicks the door with his foot to stop it closing. He kicks it closed behind him and drops the gift bag on a console table you have near the door. You're taking off your jacket as he approaches you, slipping it off your arms and tossing it over a nearby chair. He mimics your actions and watches as you go over to a drinks trolley and pour yourself a vodka. Bucky notices the bottle. It's expensive. The same one Natasha drinks. He final takes his gaze of you and looks around, as you start to pour him an expensive bourbon.

This is the penthouse. You live in a penthouse. On your own. And you'd brought him expensive gifts. Sam was right. Your dirty books really did make you a lot of money and you didn't want him for his. Not like those other omegas that had sniffed around.

"You're looking around like you're lost." You say to him, as you put your hand out to pass him the bourbon. Bucky approaches, a frown on his face and a shake to his head.

"Sam said something earlier."

"Oh? What? Because he says a lot of things."

Bucky lets out a huff of laughter and takes the drink from you. He takes you in as he takes a sip. The way the dress wraps your body. The fact he's sure you aren't wearing much in the shape of underwear, and then there’s the boots. Louboutin's if he's not mistaken. You were younger than him by a few years and quite possibly the sexist omega he'd ever seen. He wanted to do unspeakable things to you and you'd not even flinched when you'd overheard them. Now, you stood looking back at him, leg slightly jutted out to one side and Bucky wants to drop to his knees and run his tongue up the inside of your thigh. He takes another sip of his drink instead.

"This is the good stuff." He says, glancing at the glass.

"Yeah, well Nat kept giving me shit about buying cheap booze, said it looked out of place on the fancy drinks trolley."

Buck hummed in agreement and took a step towards you.

"Sam said something earlier. Said you didn't need me for money."

"Wow, is that why you think I'm interested? Your money?"

"Honestly, it crossed my mind. Since this," Bucky said, shrugging his left shoulder, "any interest in me, as an alpha, boyfriend, potential mate, it's always comes down to the money."

"How so?"

"I got a big pay out from what happened, enhanced pension, Stark gave us all shares because we got him out, the few dates I've been on they start telling me about the gifts they'd like on the first date. Second dates roll around and they start sending me links to things they want. But none of them ever want to take a step further. I guess getting someone to see passed the arm, all the shit I carry around, I guess that costs money huh?" He tells you. He casts a look down at his feet, before looking around and shaking his head. The others were right, you didn’t need or want his money, but were you a match? Surely you could do better than an alpha like him that’s carrying a few extra pounds. Finishing the glass he steps forward and leans around you to put the glass on the trolley. Your bodies are close to touching and as he rights himself he can’t help but slip his hand to your waist. You mirror his actions, putting down your glass, but as you look back at him you look up in away that makes his legs weak. Like you want to give him the world. Like you admire him. Like you adore him. Your bodies graze each other and as he watches your eyelids flutter, you simply ask.

“Can I touch you Alpha? Please?”

He holds in the shuddered breath he wants to let out, swallows hard and nods. You lean into him, and his hand slips from your waist to around your back. You run a hand up his chest, letting it travel up his neck into his hair. Your other hand travels up his metal arm. Your eyes are fixed with his and Bucky holds his breath. You squeeze slightly, before breaking eye contact and looking down at your hand on his metal arm.

"This matters alpha but not in the way that you think." You released your grip on him, and slid it up to place it over the dip in his neck. Exactly where his bonding mark sat. A spot that you would soon hope would have your teeth marked into it. "What happened to you Bucky, it's part of who you are, just the same as every moment that happens to each of us. Same as things that have happened to me, to Steve, to our friends, they've made us who we are. It matters because what they did to you, is fucking horrendous. I might only be an omega but I'd rip their throats out if I could. You have to live with the outcome each day. Physically, mentally, emotionally, everything. It matters. It doesn't stop me wanting you."

Bucky shook his head in disbelief. You gripped the back of his head neck hard with one hand, and gripped his bond with the other, causing his eyes to snap to yours.

"It doesn't make me want you less. It makes me want you more."

Bucky let out a gruff but you didn't faulter.

"It makes me want to love you. To care for you. To hold you on your bad days, and the good. To try and make you happy." You tell him, moving your hand from the back of his neck and running it through his hair. You feel him relax. "Because you deserve it. You deserve to have your happy ending, a mate, half a dozen kids, whatever it is you want, and if that's not me than that's okay. You deserve a lot better than me. I'm told I'm a handful. But if it is me, then I'm yours Alpha. In any and everyway you want me."

You go to pull away but Bucky's grip on you is firm. His lips get nearer and hover over yours.

"Tell me again." He says, lips brushing yours as he speaks. "Tell me again, that your mine Omega, that you'll be mine, mine and Steve's, but know there's no going back if you do. If you say it, I'll never let you go."

His lips brush yours and you nod slowly, attempting to catch his lips with yours. He edges just a little away.

"Words Omega. I need to hear it."

"I'm yours Alpha, in every way."

Then his lips are on yours. Firm but slow. You reciprocate, and open your mouth slightly, hoping to feel his tongue against yours. Instead he pulls your lip with his teeth and nips at it with his canines. It's a welcome surprise when you nip him back. He pulls away and looks at you, face full of want and need. He ran his thumb over your lips and you opened them, showing him your own canines. Smaller than his as an omega but very much out and there. You'd let her out and she was willing. Every inch of Bucky's resolve snapped in that moment.

You were giving yourself to him. Possibly even submitting. You ran one your canines against his thumb, and as if to prove to him they were there for him. Then his lips were on yours again, frantic and wanting. He pushed his tongue into your mouth and you reacted in turn. One of his hands was on your ass and another on your neck as he rolled his hips against you. You lifted one of your legs and hooked it around his hip, making him buck against you and growl.

"Hold on to me." He growled against your lips. You put one hand on the base on his neck and another on his shoulder as Bucky grabbed you by the back of your thighs and lifted you. You chirped and wrapped your legs around him. You kissed him hard and he returned it. Pulling away for a moment, he muttered against your lips.

"Bedroom?" He asked.

"Double doors." You replied. Bucky made his way over to the doors with you still wrapped around him. Moving his metal arm to hold you under your ass, he used his other to slide open one of the doors. His lips continued to chase yours as he placed you on the huge bed. He feels you reach down to unzip your boots but he stops you, his hand over yours.

"Leave them on, at least whilst they’re around my neck."

"Who says they're going to be around your neck?”

"I do, now lay back and be a good girl."

You lay back on the bed, your ass near the edge as Bucky's hand spreads against your stomach as if to reinforce the instruction. He kneels and his head disappears under your dress and you feel his stubble rub against your thighs as he kisses them softly at first and then firmly as he ascends. He starts again when he reaches your mound, soft first and then firm. You gasp when he nudges his nose against your clit. He pulls at your lace underwear, now damp from your arousal. He flips up your dress and glances up at you, his eyes asking for consent.

"Please Alpha." You say, voice needy. Bucky pulls at your underwear, his impatience causing him to rip them. You feel his breath against you, as he pulls your legs onto his shoulders. "Say red if you want me to stop."

And then he descends. He licks at your clit before sucking at it. You feel his fingers against your core and his lips moved down. You feel his tongue begin to lap at you and his nose rubbed at your nub. You gasped as your back arched. Spurred on by your reaction, Bucky continued his motions. He moved and began to suck at your clit again, this time pushing a finger inside you.

"Alpha!" Spilled from your lips and Bucky growled against you, the vibration going straight into your pussy. You reached down and pushed your fingers into his hair and pulled. He growled again and removed his finger, burying his tongue into your folds. You could hear and feel how wet you were. Bucky pulls away for a moment, telling you how good you taste before his mouth is back on you. You feel him move back towards your clit and then feel the return of his finger, adding a second when you moan. The debauched groan you let out let's your alpha know he's found the right spot. He curls his fingers and you start to rock your hips.

"Good girl."

The praise goes straight to your pussy and you arch your back again and pull at his hair.

"Fuck Alpha!!" You callout. He quickens his actions as your gasps and moans get louder. One of your legs slips off his shoulders as you rock. Bucky grabs at it with his free hand and throws it back over his shoulder. "Shit, fuck Alpha. Bucky you're gonna, fuck."

You don't need to explain to Bucky. He knows you're close with how your legs tremble, how your scent has picked up and how your pussy flutters around his fingers. He curls his fingers a little more and sucks hard on your clit. When you pull his hair again he growls again against you and it's your undoing. You tighten around his fingers and your back arches so much that you feel like you might be levitating. You pulse around him and you feel distinctively wetter. Bucky pulls his fingers from you and you sure he murmurs 'fuck yes' as his tongue dives again between your folds. You wither on the bed, Bucky's name a whisper on your lips and your hand loose in his hair. He slows and you look down to see steel blue eyes looking back at you. He pulls away and lowers your legs from his shoulders.

"You taste so damn good 'mega." He tells you as he licks his lips.

Bucky raises from his knees in front of you and stands. He pulls off the black knitted sweater he's wearing to reveal his under shirt. Your omega perks up and you push yourself up. Bucky cups your face with one hand and undoes his belt with the other. You look at him, cheeks flushed but a glint in your eye, ready for your alpha. He rubs a thumb over your lips and they part, letting him in and sucking. He pants slide partway down his firm thighs and you reach forward and slip your hands into the back of his boxers and pull them down. You smile around Bucky's thumb, as they seem to struggle over the front, and you bring your hands around to lower them and release his cock. You smile again as it practically bounces free. Big, heavy, and dripping for you. You want him in your mouth immediately. You look up at him for permission to carry on and Bucky nods, slipping his thumb from your mouth, but keeping his hand on your neck. He's heard plenty from friends and the guys at the VA to know omegas rarely take their alphas in their mouths these days but god he hopes you do.

You slowly take him in your hand, before tilting your head and running your tongue up the side of his cock.

"Fuck." He gasps.

You take him fully into your mouth and he gasps again.

"Fuck 'mega."

Bucky looks down and he's sure your smiling around him. Your head moves back and forth against his cock and his body responds automatically rocking his hips. His grip on your neck gets firmer and you moan around him. The hands you've placed on his thighs grip him firmly. His free hand slipped into your dress and squeezed at one of your breasts and you moan around him again. You look up, your mouth still on him, and Bucky, knows it's his knot talking but he thinks he's falling in love with you. He rocks his hips and you relax your throat and take him more. Bucky can't remember when he's last felt this good. When your hands move to grip his ass, he feels his knot start to swell. He doesn't want to stop you, he really doesn't but he won't risk spilling down your throat so soon and knotting your mouth. He pulls out and you huff.

"Hey, I wasn't done." You say, voice rough from his cock nudging your throat. He smirks at you, amused by your keenness to have his dick in your mouth. He grips the back of your neck and pulls you to stand quickly. You snap your jaws at him in response and he kisses you hard, slipping his tongue in his mouth. It's followed by you nipping and growling at each other. Bucky's hands slide up your sides and he grips your dress and pulls it over your head.

He drops it to the floor as he takes you in. He begins to purr as he cups your breasts and runs his hands over you. He notices some of the tops of your legs are scattered with scars here and there, as is your stomach. He lets his thumb run across one on your hip. When he looks back at your face you refuse to meet his eyes. Running one hand around your back and another to the back of your head, Bucky pulls you against him, and kisses you with everything he has. You relax against him and he lifts you into his arm. He places you back on the bed and fully steps out of his pants.

A surge in confidence has him pulling off his undershirt. You had shown him all of you and he wanted to do the same. He placed one knee on the bed and placed a hand on your thigh as you silently reached for him. Realising you still had your boots on, he slowly unzipped them. Placing soft kisses on your legs as he went, he pulled the boots off of you. He lifts you further up the bed and reaches for two of your pillows. He places one under your head and another under your hips. You admire him as he does. Bare as you are but face full of concentration and care. You glance at his shoulder. The scars he bares are worse than yours, for worse reasons too but he's allowing you to see them.

"Alpha." You say softly, reaching for him. He crawls up your body, kissing you when he's eye level with you. It's softer this time but still all encompassing. You run your hands over his shoulders and into his hair. Feeling him hard against you causes you to kiss him back with fever, and you slip a hand between you to grip him. He stops you as your hand meets his cock and pins it down. You snap your jaws at him and he growls back.

"Be patient."

You huff and wrap your legs around him. He mutters that you're a handful against your lips and nips along your jaw, down you neck and to your bonding mark. He runs he tongue against it and then his canines, causing you to gasp. Your body reacts and slick forms between your legs as you open them wider. Bucky snakes his free hand down your body and between your legs and guides himself in as your body reacts to him.

"Alpha! Fuck!" You breathed out as he stretched you. Bucky nipped at your neck again, your body responding immediately to your alpha, hips moving to allow him further into you.

"You're so tight doll, so good for me."

He stilled for a moment taking you in, you gazed back at him and ran a hand through his hair. Realising he was still holding one of your arms down, he went to let go but you moved quickly and pulled his hand back. You slotted your fingers into his as if you were holding hands but with him still holding you down. Finding you wanted him to hold you like that, he rocked his hips, and you pushed back.

You really are a handful, he thought.

You rocked more and Bucky growled at you.

"Behave."

You went to kiss him but bit his lip instead. Bucky growled and rocked in and out of you, as you began to arch your back for more friction against him, he slipped his arm around your back and gripped you tightly. You pushed your hips up to his again, so he pushed harder. You groaned and he quickened his pace.

"More Alpha. Bucky please."

He thrust harder, deeper and faster. Your hips continued to meet as much as you could with how Bucky was holding you. The arm around you started to grip you harder and you felt yourself dip more into the mattress as he body pressed even more into your, using his weight to hold you down. He began to grind his hips harder into yours and you cried out as he hit your sweet spot.

"Fuck, Alpha right there. Fuck."

Bucky was relentless, and you felt your orgasm building, like a coil in your stomach about to snap. Feeling his knot being to swell, he placed his lips against your ear.

"Present Omega." He said, voice gruff. It wasn’t a command but you obeyed anyway. Bucky didn’t pull out of you until you began to push yourself up, waiting to see if you’d willingly present to him. He smirked as you did and he reached out to help you turn. You took his help but snapped your teeth at him as you did. Bucky returned it with slapping your ass. “You really can’t behave, can you?”

“I think you might need to teach me how.” You said as you presented your ass to him, wiggling it for added effect, as you positioned yourself on the pillows. Bucky squeezed your slapped cheek hard.

“No, I don’t think I will, I like you like this, full of trouble, and full of me.” He said pushing into you. The moan you let out was sinful. He pulled out again, leaving just the tip before pushing in deeply again. The moan you let out let him know he was in the right spot. He ran his metal hand up your spine, and gripped your shoulder where your mark was and started to pull in and out of you deep and slowly at first and then quickening his pace. The groans and gasps you let out encouraging him.

“Don’t worry ‘mega. I know you were close, gonna get you to come for me, gonna fill you up, fill you full of my seed. Didn’t even ask me for a condom dirty girl. You’re mine aren’t you doll? Say you’re mine ‘mega, say you’re mine and Stevie’s.”

Your reply comes muffled from the pillow and is full of need.

“Yours alpha, yours, yours and Steve’s, please, knot me, fuck please.”

Bucky pace quickens to the point of being frantic and he suspects he’ll have to carry you wherever you want to go in the morning. Before he has chance to worry if it’s too much, like he has since you were first mentioned to him, your voice calls out to him asking for more. He fucks into you harder and faster and you call out to him again.

“Close Alpha. Please, close.”

He squeezes your mark as he pounds into you.

“Cum for me Y/N, cum on your alpha’s dick.”

You cum hard, clenching around him. Feeling you tighten around him and the debauched moan you let out push Bucky over the edge and he comes with a shout.

“Fuck ‘mega.” He roars out, knot popping into place and securing you into him. His dick is still twitching when he leans over you, his chest to your back. He nips at your mark and he feels you relax underneath him. Your scent is full of contentment and Bucky exhales deeply.

“You okay?” He asks. You tilt your head a little and nod. You catch the way Bucky’s looking at you. It’s not concern, but curiousness. Is he wondering if you’re okay with what just happened? If it was too much? Or how willing you’d been?

“I’m okay Alpha. I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard before. I definitely haven’t presented or chirped before."

Bucky kisses you as much as he can from the position you’re in and tells you he’s going to get you comfortable. He wrapped an arm around your middle and lifted you, using the other to move the pillows. You whimpered a little as his knot pulled as he moved you both to your sides.

“Shit, sorry doll.”

“It’s okay.” You replied, voice tired. One arm stayed around you, as Bucky settled you both, the other now acting as a pillow as you laid your head on his bicep. Bucky speaks to you, his voice low, telling you how beautiful you are, that he’ll take care of you, whispers of the future on his lips as you drift off to sleep.

[magic-shop-stories]

Can I request a Yoongi x Reader where they're exes who had a really messy breakup, but now they have to co-parent their stubborn, genius teenage daughter? Maybe she gets into trouble at school, and they have to put their differences aside to deal with it?

💌 Reply:

Ahh, thank you for your Request it was so cool and I hope the story is what you wanted. I feel like the Reader is coming a bit short but I guess it's gonna be fine...?! At least I hope so.

Have fun reading and feel free to reach out if there's something else I can do for you. 💜💜

PS.: I get the feeling this blog has turned into a Yoongi-as-a-Father Sanctuary but no complains, I kinda like it.

I was thinking- why not make parent headcanons for all BTS members?

REQUEST NAME:

FAME ≠ LOVE

↳ Yoongi x ExReader | Family | Angst, Drama, (Slow Burn)

Rating: G

Word Count: ~ 4k

Genre: Drama, BTS AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slow-Burn Family Reconciliation, Slice of Life

Warnings: Heavy themes of parental neglect, emotional estrangement, and unresolved trauma, Strong language (profanity), Mentions of emotional distress (implied anxiety, abandonment issues), Mentions of media intrusion & exploitation, Family conflict and arguments, Mild violence (Yoongi shoving a reporter), Discussions of corporate politics & fame pressures, Slow burn co-parenting reconciliation (not romance-focused)

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Ex-Wife!Reader

Featuring: Min Jihyun (OC, daughter of Yoongi & Reader), Min Yoongi (Suga) as a flawed but fiercely protective father. Reader as a high-ranking HYBE executive struggling to balance career and motherhood. Themes of healing, forgiveness, and the messy reality of co-parenting. HYBE Staff, Media, various reporters, and minor original characters,

“Fire doesn’t care who it burns, the hand that strikes the match, or the ones who built the kindling. But ash is where new things grow.”

Your Phone, 10:03 AM:

Unknown Number: “Ms.Y L/N, this is Principal Kwon. Your daughter has vandalized school property. We need you here immediately.”

Your Response: “I’ll be there in twenty.”

Next Call:

Yoongi. Three rings. Voice clipped. “What?”

“Jihyun’s in trouble. Meet me at Seoul Arts Academy.”

“I’m in the studio...”

“Be a parent for once.” Click.

The fluorescent lights of the principal’s office hummed like a trapped wasp. You sat ramrod straight, Yoongi slouched beside you, his black mask pulled low. Jihyun, your daughter, leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her hoodie sleeves streaked with neon spray paint. The air reeked of disinfectant and regret.

Principal Kwon slid a tablet across the desk. Onscreen, the school’s gym wall blazed with Jihyun’s mural; HYBE’s logo melting into a skeletal hand clutching won bills, tagged with “FAME ≠ LOVE” in jagged cursive.

“Care to explain?” the principal asked.

Jihyun smirked. “They said my midterm essay on capitalist exploitation in K-pop was ‘inflammatory.’ So I gave them something to really cry about.”

Yoongi’s boot tapped faster. “How much?”

“Fourteen million won,” Principal Kwon said.

“Done,” Yoongi said, reaching for his phone.

You slammed your palm on the invoice. “She doesn’t get to buy her way out.”

“Like you’ve got time to parent her through community service,” he scoffed. "Weren’t you in Berlin last week?”

“At least I’m not teaching her money solves everything!”

“And what are you teaching her? How to ghost her family for a merger?”

The principal cleared his throat. “There’s… also this.” He slid over Seoul Fame Daily, the headline screaming:

“SUGA & HYBE VP’S TEEN TERROR: Inside the Dysfunctional Family Behind the Fame”

“…Min Yoongi (33) and HYBE VP [Your Name] (34), long praised for shielding their daughter from the spotlight, now face scrutiny as 14-year-old Jihyun’s vandalism scandal goes viral. Insiders claim the girl’s ‘rebellion’ stems from years of neglect: ‘They’re never around. That kid’s been raising herself…’”

Yoongi stood, chair screeching. “We’re done.”

“Sit. Down,” you hissed. “This isn’t a studio session.”

“Funny,” he said, voice glacial. “You’re the one who walked out first.”

Flashback: Two Years Earlier

Your heels clicked furiously down the hallway of HYBE’s headquarters, Jihyun trailing behind, her small hand gripping her backpack straps. She’d begged you to attend her middle school art show, but a last-minute investor call had run late. Again.

“Mom, it’s starting in ten minutes...”

“I know, Jihyun. Just wait here.”

You disappeared into the boardroom. When you emerged an hour later, she was gone. Security found her in the lobby, sketching angrily on the walls with permanent marker. The caption: “BUSY PARENTS NEEDED. APPLY WITH TIME.”

Yoongi arrived hours later, smelling of airport and exhaustion. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Would you have answered?”

Yoongi’s eyes locked onto yours, the memory hanging between you. "You walked out,” he repeated, quieter now. “But I let you. Let her.”

Jihyun barked a laugh. “Wow. Teamwork.”

The principal’s intercom buzzed. “Sir, the press is here.”

Outside, cameras flashed like lightning through the blinds. Jihyun yanked her hoodie over her head. “Happy now? Now everyone’s watching it!"

“Chaos is just truth with the volume turned up. And right now, the world is screaming.”

The school’s front gates were a warzone.

Cameras flashed like strobe lights, reporters shouting over each other: “Suga-ssi! Is it true your daughter’s expelled?” ,“Ms. Y L/N! Will HYBE issue a statement?”

Jihyun hunched between you and Yoongi, her hoodie pulled taut over her face. You gripped her shoulder, but she shook you off. “Don’t.”

A reporter lunged, yanking her hood down. “Jihyun! Why’d you do it? Daddy issues?”

Yoongi moved faster than you’d ever seen. He shoved the man back, snarling, “Touch her again and I’ll sue you into oblivion.” His voice carried the same venom as his Daechwita verses, raw and unbridled.

Your Phone buzzed:

[HYBE Assistant]: The board is panicking. They want a statement by 5 PM. Draft attached.

You glanced at the draft: “HYBE regrets the incident and is committed to addressing systemic pressures on celebrity families...”

Bullshit.

Jihyun stumbled, and Yoongi caught her arm. “Car’s this way,” he muttered, steering her through the swarm. You followed, heels sinking into wet grass, your mind racing with damage control.

Flashback: Six Months Earlier

Jihyun’s art show, her first after you became HYBE’S new VP. You’d promised to attend, but a last-minute call from the HYBE board trapped you in the office until midnight. When you finally arrived, the gallery was dark, her painting of a lone astronaut tagged with a sticky note: “SOLD TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER.”

Yoongi found you in the parking lot, Jihyun’s tears smudging his shirt. “She left this for you,” he said, handing you a sketch: a family portrait, your faces scratched out with charcoal.

Yoongi shoved Jihyun into his black SUV, slamming the door. You moved to follow, but he blocked you. “You’re taking the company car.”

“She needs both of us...”

“She needs one parent who isn’t a PR robot right now.”

Jihyun rolled down the window. “Mom’s right. Let her in."

Yoongi’s jaw tightened, but he stepped aside.

The drive was silent except for the paparazzi bikes tailing you. Jihyun stared at her phone, scrolling through headlines:

[@ArtRiot]:“HYBE’s gym mural is the protest art we need. Free Jihyun!”

[@KpopTea]:“She’s just like her dad, iconically petty.HYBE’s gonna sue her into next year 💀”

She snorted. “Now you both have to pay attention. Congrats.”

Yoongi met your eyes in the rearview mirror. For a heartbeat, it was 10 years ago, exhausted new parents, arguing over who’d take the night shift with a colicky baby.

“We’ll fix this." he said, to both of you.

Jihyun laughed, brittle. “Can’t fix what you broke.”

“The truth doesn’t heal. It tears. But in the wreckage, we rebuild.”

The therapist’s office smelled like lavender and lies.

Jihyun sat between you and Yoongi, her combat boots propped on the coffee table, scribbling “FAME ≠ LOVE” in the margins of a parenting pamphlet. The court had mandated these sessions after the school pressed charges, and now you were trapped in a room with a woman named Dr. Lee, who smiled like she’d never met a problem she couldn’t yoga-breathe away.

“Let’s start with why we’re here,” Dr. Lee said.

“Bad press,” Yoongi muttered, slouching deeper into the couch.

“Expulsion," you corrected.

“You,” Jihyun said, glaring at both of you.

Dr. Lee’s pen hovered. “Jihyun, do you feel unseen?”

She snorted. “My mom would have rather missed my birth because of a board meeting. And Dad sent a plush toy from tour for my first birthday. So yeah, unseen works.”

Yoongi flinched. “That’s not...”

“True?” Jihyun pulled out her phone, scrolling to a photo of her nursery, empty except for a stuffed bear wearing a SUGA headset. “Here’s Exhibit A.”

Flashback: Fifteen Years Earlier

Your heels echoed through the hospital hallway, contractions ripping through you as your assistant rushed to keep up. “The merger documents, they need your signature by noon...”

“Not now..."

You collapsed against a wall, gasping. Yoongi’s voicemail played for the fifth time: “In the studio. Leave a message.”

When Jihyun was born, he was in Tokyo, filming a MV.

Dr. Lee turned to Yoongi. “Why do you think Jihyun acts out?”

He stared at his hands, knuckles white. “I didn’t know how to be a dad. Still don’t.”

“Bullshit,” Jihyun said. “You knew how to write lullabies for strangers. Just not me.”

You stiffened. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair?” She laughed. “Mom’s married to her job. You’re married to ARMY. Where does that leave me? The bastard genius?”

The word hung like a grenade.

“Don’t call yourself that,” Yoongi said, voice low.

“Why? It’s what they call me.” She tossed Seoul Fame Daily onto the table. The headline:

“HYBE HEIRESS OR HOT MESS? Inside the Lonely Life of Suga’s ‘Genius’ Daughter”

“…Jihyun’s IQ (a staggering 148) and her ‘delinquent’ behavior have become a national debate. ‘She’s a product of neglect,’ says child psychologist Dr. Park. ‘Celebrity kids often act out to fill the void…’”

You reached for her, but she jerked away. “Don’t. You don’t get to parent me now.”

Dr. Lee leaned forward. “Y/N why did you leave Yoongi?”

The air thinned. Yoongi’s knee brushed yours, a ghost of the past.

“I left because I couldn’t compete,” you whispered. “With ARMY. With his music. With the world that needed him more than we did.”

Yoongi’s jaw tightened. “You didn’t even try.”

“You didn’t fight!”

Jihyun stood, knocking over her chair. “You’re both pathetic. You’d rather fight each other than fight for me.”

She stormed out, slamming the door. The framed degrees on Dr. Lee’s wall rattled.

Yoongi stood to follow, but you grabbed his wrist. “Let her go. She needs space.”

“Like you did?” He yanked free. “I’m done giving space.”

Ten Minutes later you were back on your work phone:

[HYBE Assistant]: The board wants you to issue a formal apology. Drafting options.

[YOU]: Tell them to draft a resignation letter instead.

“Art is the echo of everything we’re too afraid to say. And some artists are screaming.”

Yoongi’s penthouse smelled of fresh paint and regret.

You stood in the doorway of Jihyun’s old room, now a makeshift studio. Canvases leaned against the walls, each one a riot of color and rage: HYBE’s logo skewered by swords, ARMY bombs morphing into grenades, a faceless family holding hands made of dollar bills.

Yoongi crouched beside her, scowling at the neon splatter on his hardwood floors. “You got talent, kid. But stop doing it inside the house.”

Jihyun didn’t look up from her spray can. “Your studio’s soundproof. Can’t hear me anyway.”

He snatched the can. “Try the balcony.”

“Control freak,” she muttered, but a ghost of a smile tugged her lips.

Your Phone buzzed:

[HYBE Assistant]: Need you to approve the Q3 budget. Urgent.

You swiped the notification away, eyes catching on a sketchbook peeking from Jihyun’s half-open backpack. The first page stopped your breath:

“FAME ≠ LOVE – MURAL DRAFT #12”

Skeletal hands cradling a child made of newspaper clippings. Headlines like “HYBE’s Heiress” and “Suga’s Shadow” papered her skin.

Beneath it, a URL: www.artivist_ji.com

Flashback: Five Years Earlier

HYBE’s annual Family Day. Jihyun, age 10, clutched her crayon drawing of the three of you as superheroes. “Look, Mom! I drew you as Wonder Woman!"

You knelt, phone buzzing with a CFO’s call. “It’s beautiful, baby. Show Dad, okay?”

Yoongi was across the room, surrounded by staff. Jihyun approached, but a publicist intercepted her. “Not now, sweetie. Appa’s busy.”

You found the drawing later in the trash, scribbled over with red pen: “NOT ENOUGH.”

You typed the URL with trembling hands.

@Artivist_Ji – 50.2K followers

Bio: “Art is my middle finger to the universe. #FameIsOverrated”

The posts gutted you:

- A time-lapse of her gym mural

- Sketches of Yoongi at the piano, his back turned

- A self-portrait titled “Invisible Girl”, her face erased, replaced by tabloid headlines

The latest post stopped your heart:

“FAME ≠ LOVE – FINAL SKETCH”

Comments:

“Queen of dragging HYBE 👑”

“Is that Suga’s kid?! OMG THE TALENT.”

You closed the tab, guilt sour on your tongue.

Yoongi’s Studio, Midnight

You found him hunched over Jihyun’s mural draft, red pen in hand.

“Don’t,” you said. “It’s hers.”

“I’m fixing the composition,” he muttered. “The perspective’s off here...”

“You’re critiquing it?”

“She’s better than both of us,” he said quietly. “But she’ll never admit it.”

You picked up a sketch of yourself, sharp-suited, eyes glued to a phone, a speech bubble: “Legacy pending.”

“We failed her,” you whispered.

Yoongi’s pen stilled. “We still have time.

“When the world tries to define you, sometimes you have to redefine the world.”

The internet exploded at 9:17 PM.

Jihyun’s tweet went live with a single image: her mural, HYBE’s logo burning under the tagline “FAME ≠ LOVE.” The caption:

[@MinJihyun_Official]:

new bio: artist. anarchist. NOT your oppa’s kid.

Within minutes, the hashtag #FameIsOverrated trended worldwide.

[@SUGAstan95]:

“She’s just seeking attention. Suga would never raise a kid like this.”

[@ArtRiot]:

“This is the protest art we need. HYBE’s exploitation of artists is finally being called out. #FreeJihyun"

[@KPOP_NEWS_24]:

“Suga’s daughter goes rogue! HYBE stock drops another 3%. Full story ⬇️”

Your Phone buzzed:

[HYBE Assistant]: The board is demanding a press conference. They want you to disavow her actions.

You stared at the tweet, your thumb hovering over the like button.

Yoongi’s Studio, 10:03 PM

You found him scrolling through Jihyun’s replies, his face unreadable.

“You’re not going to say anything?” you asked.

“She doesn’t want me to,” he said, setting his phone down. “But I liked it.”

You blinked. “What?”

He showed you his Instagram, a single like on Jihyun’s post.

“Subtle,” you said dryly.

“She’ll see it," he said. “That’s enough.”

You opened your laptop, drafting a statement:

“HYBE supports artistic expression and acknowledges the systemic pressures faced by celebrity families. We are committed to fostering a healthier environment for all.”

Yoongi read over your shoulder. “Corporate bullshit.”

“It’s damage control.”

“She’s not a PR crisis,” he said, voice sharp. “She’s your daughter.”

You deleted the draft.

[YOU]: Jihyun, we need to talk.

[JIHYUN]: About what? Your next press release?

“Sometimes, the loudest cries for help are whispered under bridges, where no one thinks to look.”

The text came at 11:42 PM:

[HYBE Assistant]: The board released a statement without you. It’s… not great.

You opened the link, dread pooling in your stomach.

HYBE Official Statement:

“HYBE deeply regrets the actions of Min Jihyun and reaffirms its commitment to upholding the values of respect and responsibility. We are working closely with her family to address this matter."

The comments were brutal:

“HYBE throwing their own kid under the bus? Cold.”

“Suga’s daughter deserves better than this."

Your phone buzzed again:

[YOONGI]:She’s gone.

Han River, 12:15 AM

Yoongi found her under the Mapo Bridge, her hoodie pulled tight against the cold. The glow of her phone illuminated her face as she scrolled through the HYBE statement, her jaw clenched.

“You wanna be seen?” he said, crouching beside her. “Then stop hiding.”

She didn’t look up. “They don’t see me. They see you.”

“I see you,” he said, voice rough. “Always have.”

She scoffed, sketching furiously in her notebook. “Yeah? Then where were you when I needed you?"

Your Arrival, 12:30 AM

You stumbled down the embankment, heels sinking into the mud. “Jihyun..."

She turned, her eyes glinting with anger. “Here to give another statement?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears spilling over. “I’m sorry I made you feel invisible.”

She stared at you, her defiance wavering. “You weren’t there. Either of you.”

Yoongi reached for her, but she flinched. “Don’t. You don’t get to fix this with a hug.”

You knelt beside her, the river’s reflection rippling like shattered glass. “We can’t change the past. But we can try to be better. For you.”

Her voice cracked. “I just wanted you."

Flashback: Eight Years Earlier

Jihyun’s first school play. You’d promised to attend, but a last-minute investor call kept you late. When you arrived, the auditorium was empty, her teacher holding a crumpled program: “She cried when you didn’t show.”

Yoongi pulled Jihyun into a hug, his voice muffled against her hair. “We’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

You joined them, the three of you tangled under the bridge’s shadow.

The HYBE press room was a battlefield.

Rows of reporters packed the hall, their bodies pressed together like a restless tide, cameras flashing like artillery fire in the relentless storm of media scrutiny. The air was thick with the hum of whispered speculation, punctuated by the sharp staccato of shouted questions. Heat from the overhead lights made the room stifling, the metallic scent of equipment mixing with the tension radiating from every person present.

You stood at the podium, heart pounding beneath your ribs, the weight of expectation pressing against your shoulders. Yoongi was beside you, his presence an anchor amidst the chaos, but you could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers curled slightly against the podium's surface. He was furious, barely keeping himself in check.

In your hand, the CEO’s prepared statement felt like ice–cold, impersonal, a lifeless collection of words meant to protect the company, not your daughter.

“Ms. Y L/N! Will HYBE take legal action against your daughter?”

“Suga! Do you regret prioritizing your career over your family?”

The words came like daggers, cutting deep, aiming for the most vulnerable places. Your grip tightened. The flashes of cameras were blinding, turning the scene into a disorienting blur of faces and accusations. The words on the page blurred in your vision, meaningless against the anger simmering in your chest.

You exhaled, forcing steel into your spine. The paper crumpled in your fist.

“We’re here to address the recent incident involving Min Jihyun,” you began, voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. The noise in the room shifted, anticipation sharpening the air like a knife.

Flashback: Two Days Earlier

The CEO’s office was a cavern of glass and steel, the city sprawling beneath it like a world distant and indifferent to the turmoil inside. The air-conditioning hummed, a deceptive calm against the fire brewing in Yoongi’s stance.

The CEO’s voice was icy. “This is a PR disaster. Either you disavow her actions, or we’ll do it for you.”

Yoongi didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, slow, deliberate, kinda lethal. His voice, when it came, was quiet, edged with the kind of fury that could bring entire empires crumbling.

“Touch her, and I’ll burn this company to the ground.”

A beat of silence. The tension stretched, thick and suffocating, before the CEO’s eyes flickered with something that almost resembled fear.

Yoongi never bluffed.

The statement slipped from your fingers, falling to the floor like dead weight. Gasps rippled through the press like an electric current.

“Our daughter is not a scandal,” you said, voice slicing clean through the cacophony. “She’s a person. A brilliant, passionate, hurting person. And if anyone here thinks they have the right to reduce her to a headline, you’re wrong.”

Silence. Heavy. Unyielding.

Yoongi stepped forward, gripping the mic, his presence commanding, unwavering. The spotlight glinted off his eyes, dark and unwavering as he surveyed the sea of reporters.

“Next reporter who calls her ‘bastard’ gets a lawsuit and a free album.”

A ripple of uneasy laughter broke through, but the weight of his words lingered, pressing down like an unspoken threat.

He scanned the room, his voice calm but carrying the unmistakable force of a man who would go to war for his child. “She’s my daughter. And if you come for her, you come for me.”

Backstage

Jihyun stood in the shadows, arms crossed, lips twitching as she watched the scene unfold. The fire in her eyes dimmed just a fraction, something soft slipping into the cracks of her armor.

Yoongi’s words echoed in her mind, wrapping around something fragile inside her.

She huffed out a quiet breath, barely above a whisper.

“They’re not so bad.”

Epilogue: The Gallery & New Beginnings

Under the soft glow of gallery lights in a renovated Seoul warehouse, Jihyun’s mural dominated the room, a sprawling, defiant canvas titled “How to Survive Famous Parents.” Bold strokes of rebellion and tenderness intertwined: shattered family portraits, corporate logos dismantled by furious color, and symbols of both pain and hope. The atmosphere was hushed yet electric, as art lovers and curious onlookers clustered around the piece, whispering in awe.

In one quiet corner, Yoongi stood, his gaze fixed on the mural as if deciphering every secret message it held. He pulled out his phone and, after a long, reflective pause, murmured to a friend nearby,

“It’s going in my studio. To remind me not to fuck up again.”

A ripple of understanding passed through the crowd. Later, his phone buzzed, a text message from you. The invitation was simple yet significant:

“Coffee tomorrow? I’ll bring cake.”

Across the room, you lingered by a stark white wall, watching the celebration of your daughter’s truth unfold. In the flickering light, you felt the weight of past mistakes lift ever so slightly. You’d spent years tethered to board meetings and corporate crises, but tonight the gallery was a testament that art; raw and unfiltered; could be a pathway to healing.

After the show had ended and the last of the guests trickled away, you found Yoongi waiting in a quiet alcove near the exit. The tension that had once divided you softened into something resembling understanding. There, under the muted glow of emergency exit signs and the fading echoes of applause, you both paused, no longer bound by old resentments.

“You know,” you began quietly, “we can’t change everything overnight. But maybe we can start small, like family breakfasts or dinners. A time for all of us to just… be together.”

Yoongi exhaled slowly, his eyes revealing both regret and resolve. “I’ve been a stubborn fool,” he admitted. “For too long, we let work and pride get in the way of what matters most.”

You offered a tentative smile. “I promise I’ll work less. I can’t keep missing the moments that count. Let’s set a weekly breakfast, just the three of us. No boardroom, no cameras, no headlines.”

He nodded, and in that moment, the unspoken promise between you was palpable. The scars of the past were still there, but there was a chance; small, fragile, and beautiful; to rebuild something real for Jihyun.

A week later, in the quiet hum of your HYBE office, you took a decisive step. With a deep breath, you submitted your vacation request. It wasn’t a resignation from duty, it was a commitment to reclaim a piece of your life long neglected. You knew that for the first time in over a decade, you, Yoongi, and Jihyun would embark on a family vacation together. Not as lovers rekindling a lost romance, but as co-parents determined to create a haven away from the relentless glare of fame and corporate demands.

That evening, over a simple dinner at a small, warmly lit bistro, you all sat together, awkward at first, but gradually the shared laughter and gentle conversation wove a new tapestry of togetherness. Jihyun teased, “Don’t think I’m going to let you two make it too easy. I expect full participation in family fun.” Yoongi chuckled, and you reached across the table, meeting his gaze with sincere understanding.

In that humble moment, as the clink of cutlery and soft music filled the background, the promise of a vacation shimmered like a distant sunrise, a first step toward healing. Though your paths had diverged in the past, you were learning that survival wasn’t about perfection. It was about trying again, together, even if the wounds ran deep.

And as the night drew to a close, the gallery lights and city buzz fading into memory, you all looked ahead. There was art still to be made, truths still to be spoken, and a fragile family ready to rebuild, one shared breakfast, one small vacation at a time.

[soft--dogs]

My final YCH for Pride 2025, Glowing Pride Chibis! Each slot can have 1 to 6 characters, so you can get one for just yourself, or have your whole friend group/partners ^w^ Poses can be mixed and matched, I made it so any combination will look cute together ^^ Can be any identity/pride flag! Pricing starts at $30, then it's +$15 per character. Final comms will include a transparent version, so feel free to use as stickers, edit into memes, or whatever your heart desires ^_^ Some YCH rules: * MUST have ref sheet or clear images of characters I can work from. * Style will be simple chibi with dot eyes. Complex designs may have to be simplified. * All furry species should fit! Including humans, birds, reptiles, etc. If you're not sure if your character will work feel free to ask! * Body types can be adjusted to fit your characters, as long as it will still fit the base/poses. * Simple outfits can be added for no extra cost. * Turnaround time is estimated 4 weeks, hoping to have them finished during june. i've been struggling a little w/ deadlines lately, so be aware it may take longer. * Payment thru Paypal invoice only! * I usually post all commissions to tumblr, FA, and bluseky, please let me know in advance if you don’t want yours posted. Also feel free to post yours yourself!

Unlimited slots for now, feel free to DM me if you’d like to grab one!