#I love brain fog 💕💕

[aroacespacerock]

I hate being sick because then my brain refuses to function like noooo stop I need that to read my lesbian necromancers in space book

[chrissssssmut]

How about a yandere fic for Karina for her b-day?

In where Karina invites her fellow idol Y/N to come celebrate her b-day in her home. Hopefully you add some smut 🫶🏻

HER BIRTHDAY, HER RULES

Karina x Male Idol Y/N

AN: Happy Birthday Karina! Decided to make this story first since its her birthday today! Back to regular programming!🥰💕

You hesitated outside the door, shifting the wrapped wine bottle in your hands. Karina had texted you personally a week ago.

“Hey Y/N. My birthday’s coming up. I’m throwing something small, just close friends. Would love for you to come.”

The fact that she’d invited you—you out of all the other idols—made your heart stutter a bit. You two had shared a few polite moments backstage at shows, stolen glances in green rooms, nothing more. Still, Karina had this way of making everything feel personal when she spoke to you. Like you mattered more than you should.

The door clicked open before you could knock.

Karina stood there, dressed in a silky midnight-blue robe that shimmered slightly under the warm lights behind her. It hung off one shoulder just enough to show the smooth slope of her collarbone.

“Y/N,” she purred, her lips tugging into a slow smile. “You made it.”

You smiled back, slightly stunned. “Of course. Wouldn’t miss your birthday.”

She leaned in, gave you a soft cheek kiss that lingered longer than expected. Her perfume was sweet—jasmine, maybe vanilla—and it fogged your brain just a bit.

When you stepped inside, the silence hit you.

No music. No chatter. No guests. Just the flicker of candles on the coffee table and a half-empty bottle of champagne.

You glanced around the penthouse. “Uh… am I early?”

Karina turned, pouring a glass like it was nothing. “Not at all. You’re actually the first one here."

She handed you a flute and raised her own. “Cheers.”

You clinked glasses with a soft smile. “To you.”

“To me,” she repeated, eyes locked on yours as she sipped.

Minutes turned into an hour. You sat on the couch, trading stories, laughing more than you expected to. Every few minutes you’d glance at your phone, expecting more guests to buzz the door, but nothing happened.

Finally, you asked, “So… are the others late or something?”

Karina blinked, then gave a tiny shrug. “They said they’d drop by. Maybe they flaked.”

She leaned closer, her fingers lightly brushing your knee. “But I’m glad you came. Honestly, I only really wanted to see you.”

Your throat tightened, heartbeat ticking a little too fast.

“Me?”

She smiled. “Yeah. You’ve been on my mind a lot lately. I figured tonight might be the perfect excuse to get you alone.”

Her words danced between casual and dangerously intimate.

You looked away, trying to collect yourself. “Maybe I should slow down on the drinks—”

Karina refilled your glass before you could protest. “Don’t be shy, Y/N. Just relax. It’s my birthday, remember? That means I get what I want.”

She sat closer, her thigh pressing against yours.

You took another drink.

Some time later…

Your limbs felt warm. Too warm. You were buzzing—not wasted, but definitely past the point of making sharp decisions.

Karina had settled on the floor in front of you now, sitting between your knees, her chin resting on your thigh. Her robe had slipped further, revealing the delicate strap of a lace bra.

“I always wondered what kind of drunk you are,” she murmured, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your knee. “Turns out you’re cute when you let your guard down.”

You chuckled, leaning back into the couch. “And you’re… kinda dangerous.”

She grinned, tilting her head. “Is that a complaint?”

“No. Just an observation.”

Her eyes darkened a shade. “Good. Because I like when you look at me like that.”

She leaned in closer, lips inches from your throat. “You know, I wasn’t lying when I said other people were invited. I just… never sent the invites.”

You blinked. “Wait—what?”

“I wanted tonight to be just us. I wanted…” She paused, her hand slipping up your thigh, slow, deliberate. “…to finally have you to myself.”

Your breath caught.

She leaned up, kissing your jaw lightly. “Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t.

She pulled back just slightly, eyes glittering with heat. “Didn’t think so.”

Your pulse was a wild thing beneath your skin, thudding in your ears like war drums.

Karina straddled your lap now, her knees pressing into the couch cushions on either side of your hips. The silk robe slid open as she moved, a glint of smooth thigh and lace flashing beneath it. Her fingers dragged up your chest slowly, nails light enough to tickle, but firm enough to leave you chasing every touch.

"You're so tense," she whispered, brushing your hair back. "Let me take care of you."

Your breath hitched as she leaned in, pressing her lips to your neck—not kissing, not yet. Just letting them hover, her breath hot against your skin.

“You have no idea,” you rasped, voice lower than it had been all night. “How long I’ve imagined this.”

“Oh?” she purred, dragging her tongue up the shell of your ear. “Tell me. What did you imagine, Y/N?”

You swallowed thickly, your hands finally moving to grip her waist. Her robe was hanging off her shoulders now, nothing between you but the thin silk belt and your self-control—both of which were about to snap.

“I imagined you like this,” you muttered. “On top of me. Taking control. Making me beg for it.”

Karina let out a soft, low laugh that vibrated against your throat. “Beg? You don’t need to beg. Not tonight.”

She leaned back just enough to untie the robe’s belt, slow and teasing. The knot slipped loose with a quiet whisper, and the robe fluttered open, revealing the full curve of her chest barely contained in a black lace bra, the matching panties hugging her hips like sin.

She reached for your shirt, tugging it up. “Off. I want to see you.”

You didn’t hesitate.

The second it was gone, her palms were on your bare chest, gliding, exploring—fingertips dragging down toward your abs like she was memorizing every inch of you.

"You've been hiding this under stage outfits and leather jackets? What a waste."

You laughed, breathless. "You watch me that closely?"

She smirked. "Only all the time."

Then her lips were on yours—no teasing now. No hesitation. Just heat. Her mouth was soft but demanding, her tongue sliding over yours with perfect control. She kissed like she meant it, like she needed it, and every brush of her lips made your body thrum.

When she pulled back, her lips were slick, swollen.

“I want you to do exactly what I say,” she whispered, grinding her hips against your growing bulge. “Can you be good for me, pretty boy?”

You groaned. “I’ll be whatever you want.”

Her grin turned wicked. “Lie back.”

You obeyed instantly.

Karina rose just enough to strip off the robe and toss it aside, then climbed back over you—only now, she took the belt from the robe in her hands. She leaned down and gently, with deliberate slowness, took your wrists and pinned them above your head.

She bound them together with practiced ease, then tied the belt to one of the couch’s vertical bars.

You tugged slightly, testing. Secure.

“Comfortable?” she teased, her eyes glittering with heat and something darker.

“Only if you sit on my face next.”

Her breath caught—and then she laughed, genuinely. “You’re cute when you’re desperate.”

She slipped down your body, kissing a trail across your chest, tongue flicking one of your nipples just to hear you gasp. Then she undid your belt, popped your jeans button with one hand, and tugged everything down in one swift motion.

Your cock sprang free—hard, leaking, and throbbing.

“Oh,” Karina whispered, staring for a moment before biting her lip. “Pretty.”

She wrapped her fingers around the base, pumping slowly, teasing you with feather-light strokes.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to see this?” she murmured. “All those times backstage when you’d talk to me with that perfect smile, and I’d wonder… if you’d fuck me as well as you sang.”

“Why don’t you find out,” you growled.

She glanced up, eyes dark. “Oh, I will.”

Then she leaned down—and took you in her mouth, slow and devastating.

Her tongue curled around your shaft as she sucked, mouth hot and wet, lips stretched perfectly. She started shallow, teasing the tip with little flicks of her tongue, before taking you deeper, inch by inch.

You groaned, arms straining against the restraints.

She moaned around you, the vibrations making your back arch. Her hands pinned your hips down, keeping you still as she worked you over—messy, relentless, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

“Fuck, Karina—” you gasped. “Gonna cum if you keep that up—”

She pulled off with a pop, saliva trailing from her lips. Without a word, she let your cock rest against her tongue, then lightly slapped it against it—once, twice—watching the way it twitched, glistening with spit. Her eyes never left yours as she dragged her tongue slowly up the underside, savoring the mess she’d made.

“Not yet,” she said sweetly. “You don’t get to finish until I say so.”

Then she stood, peeled off her panties, and straddled you again—her folds glistening with arousal, her chest heaving.

You looked up at her, completely undone. “You’re evil.”

She grinned. “You like it.”

She reached down, guided your cock to her entrance—and then slowly, deliciously, she sank down onto you.

Both of you groaned in unison.

She was tight. Warm. Wet. You could feel every inch of her, the way she clenched around you, how perfectly she fit.

She started to move—slow rolls of her hips, rocking back and forth, her hands planted on your chest. Her rhythm was devastating, pulling you right to the edge over and over.

“Look at you,” she moaned, riding you deeper, harder. “Tied up, moaning for me. You belong to me now, Y/N. No one else is going to get you like this.”

You could barely speak—just gasps, curses, your body shaking beneath hers.

“Say it,” she demanded, picking up pace. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” you choked out. “Fuck, Karina—it’s you. Always you.”

Her face lit up with something more than lust. Something fierce. Possessive. Triumphant.

She rode you harder now, skin slapping, your moans echoing in the room, tangled bodies slick with sweat and heat and everything you weren’t allowed to feel on stage.

When Karina’s rhythm grew erratic, her hands gripped your chest tighter, nails digging crescents into your skin. Her head dropped back, mouth parted, hair clinging to her damp neck as her moans turned into frantic whimpers.

“Fuck—Y/N—” she gasped, voice breaking. “I’m… I’m gonna cum—don’t stop—don’t fucking stop—”

Her thighs clenched around your hips, trembling as she rode you harder, faster, chasing that edge with a wild kind of desperation.

You reached up, your hands now free, grabbing her hips to hold her steady, thrusting up into her as her body tensed.

“Karina—cum for me,” you groaned. “I wanna feel you fall apart on me.”

That did it.

She let out a strangled cry as her orgasm slammed into her—“Oh my god—fuck, Y/N—yes—” Her hips stuttered, grinding down hard as her walls clenched around you, pulsing with heat and need.

Watching her come unraveled you completely.

“Shit—fuck—Karina—” you growled, eyes locked on her as your own climax surged through you.

You spilled into her, deep and hot, groaning into her neck as she kept moving—slow now, milking every drop, dragging her soaked folds along your cock with deliberate, overstimulating rolls of her hips.

“God, you fill me so well,” she whispered breathlessly, body twitching from aftershocks. “I can feel it inside me… so warm. So mine.”

You let your head fall back, completely ruined beneath her, chest heaving, sweat-slicked skin against silk and lace.

She leaned down, brushing her lips over yours with a satisfied smirk.

You lay back, skin damp, your heartbeat still stuttering as Karina curled up beside you on the couch.

“Happy birthday,” you breathed.

She smiled against your shoulder. “Best gift I’ve ever had.”

Then, after a pause, she whispered:

“You’re mine now, right?”

Your head turned. “Huh?”

She was still smiling, but there was something unreadable behind her eyes now.

“I mean, after tonight… there’s no going back. You know that, right?”

Her fingers trailed your chest, light but possessive.

You swallowed hard.

She leaned up to kiss you again—slow, sweet, and a little bit dangerous.

And in that moment, you couldn’t tell if you were drunk on the alcohol… or her.

[mariasont]

hiii! I read your last spencer one shot AND I LOVED IT! IT WAS SO SWEET AND YOU'RE SO TALENTED!! Would you write something about post prison reid and shy reader? I was thinking of her as the media liaison (in my mind she is old-fashioned in music and clothes I'd wear skirts everyday, her emotional intelligence makes her good at her job, despite her shyness). Maybe she's clumsy, especially when she gets nervous and more especially (I don't even know if that's grammatically correct) when she's around Spencer.

Thank you so much for reading this, you're doing an EXCELLENT job, your works are a masterpiece!! 💕💖💝💓💓💖💞💕💖💓

Make a Wish - S.R

a/n: eekkkkkk post-prison spencer reid has me in a CHOKEHOLD! thank you so much for requesting, i'm so sorry for the delay! i hope i did your request justice!! I LOVE LOVE YOU!

masterlist

pairings: post prison!spencer reid x shy!reader

wc: 0.9k

You had been meaning to give the reports fastened in your hands to Spencer for give-or-take two hours now. Each time you gathered the courage to approach him, just one glance, one simple stupid glance from those piercing eyes set your nerves on fire and sent your brain in overdrive.

As the new media liaison from the narcotics unit, you were warned about the BAU's intimidating figures, particularly Rossi and Emily. However, no warning came regarding Spencer Reid. They mentioned his tendencies for long-winded explanations and awkward social interactions but not the aura of intensity he exuded. Whenever he entered a room, you instinctively started looking for an exit, not because of his criminal record, but because you found yourself hopelessly mesmerized by him.

He was perfect in every sense of the word—brilliant, compassionate, selfless, and an exceptional agent. At least, this is what you had observed from afar. A part of you was scared that any real interaction with him would shatter the idyllic image you had crafted in your head, and you weren't confident you were prepared for such disillusionment. However, you needed to give him these damn papers, dreading the alternative, which was getting summoned to Emily's office.

"Hi."

You did it, okay, first step complete. You opened your mouth, determined to get out the next part you had practiced a little over twenty times in your head, but the words seemed to dissipate into a misty fog in your brain.

"Um, these are for you," you said, rocking back onto the balls of your mary janes, placing the report on his desk. "It's the Henderson lie detector test transcript?"

"Is it?"

You realized you had said it like a question.

You paused, the part of your brain stuttering for a second, trying to flip over the thousands of scenarios you had rehearsed in your head for this interaction. None of them had included those words.

Just a little off script and you felt your fight or flight kick in—nails digging into your palms as you avoided eye contact.

"Yes." A little more confident this time, not by much, and it quickly deflated as you second guessed yourself, stepping closer to peer over his shoulder at the document. "At least I think."

"I'm just messing with you, it is." He said, eyes flickering down to the document, then to you. "You okay?"

"M-Me? Okay? Yeah, of course." The words were stumbling out of your mouth at a rate that was hard to keep up with. "Do I not look okay?"

"No, of course you look okay," he responded, brows knitting together as his gaze traveled down your body, no doubt dissecting your every thought. "You just seem... a bit nervous."

You opened your mouth, aiming to articulate a coherent thought, but it fell short and was quickly interrupted by Spencer.

He suddenly leaned in, his eyes narrowing. "Wait, hold still; you have an eyelash."

He was so close, you swore you feel his breath on your cheeks, instantly warming them. Your body was in overdrive, trying to recalibrate as his finger grazed the area under your right eye. You closed your eyes, almost unwillingly, relishing in the unexpected touch.

This was weird. Every nerve in your body was on high alert, and you balled your hand into a fist, attempting to mask the way you were shaking.

The sound of your name snapped you out of your daze. Your eyes followed suit, meeting Spencer's prying eyes. His finger was raised, your eyelash perched on the tip. Your face could have been a furnace, flames of heat spreading from your neck to your nose.

"Do you want to make a wish?"

He looked at you expectantly, eyes darting from your face to his raised pointer finger.

"Okay."

You closed your eyes, forming the wish in your mind before blowing on the lash. You watched it float to the ground, settling gently on the toe of Spencer's shoe. 

"What did you wish for?"

"I feel like I'm not supposed to tell you that," you say, pulling at the ends of your hair.

He was undeniably good-looking. It wasn't like you were just realizing it; you had eyes and you were only human. But up close, you could see every detail—the dark circles under his eyes, the rough stubble under his jaw.

"I think you're right."

The sudden intimacy of the moment made your heart skip a beat. You stepped back, nodding at his words and also nothing in particular.

"Anyway, yeah, those are the papers—," you began, turning to walk away. As you did, you bumped your hip into the desk beside you, hissing under your breath in response.

"Christ, are you okay?" His hand was on your hip as the words came out of his mouth.

The touch only seemed to intensify your embarrassment. You stepped out of his grip, dropping your phone as you did which you quickly bent down to pick up.

"Sorry, yeah, I'm fine, just forgot I have a meeting with Emily, so I'm just gonna—," you pointed towards her office, quickly making your escape from Spencer as you tried to catch your breath.

Once you were a distance you deemed safe enough, you allowed yourself a quick glance back at him. He was smirking, and you felt that all familiar heat rising into your chest once again.

You really hoped that wish would kick in soon.

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[staytinyweeniebeanie]

"Are You Blushing?" A SKZ Imagine

Pairing(s): bf!SKZ x reader

Content: Fluff, Established Relationship

Warning(s): 18+ (MDNI), tooth-rotting fluff, I’m talking MAJOR simp levels here (it’s mutual), explicit language, allusions to getting freaky, one (1) bulge mention.

Word Count: 2k

Summary: A snippet of how you fluster bf!SKZ 

A/N: This all started with a little thought about Felix and those damn freckles, but it quickly grew into this whole imagine! I hope you enjoy and let me know if any of these would make you blush~

 My masterlist 💕

Chan

~Is it hot in here, or is it just you?~

Barefaced, curly hair, and comfy clothes is your favorite version of Chan and you’re quick to let him know this fact. “You know if you were a fruit, you’d be a fine-apple Channie” you wink exaggeratedly and shuffle your laptop over when he cuddles up next to you on his bed for a movie night.

Chan shakes his head and chuckles, “What are you trying to butter me up for, babygirl?��. You bat your eyelashes and shrug, “Just stating facts my love, you’re so handsome I can’t help myself.” 

‘Time to kick things up a notch’ you think and pretend to fan your face “Is it hot in here? Or is it just you?”. You’re delighted by the red flush that’s steadily taking over Chan’s face as he giggles, and you rack your brain for another line that’s sure to make him squirm.

“If you look this good in these clothes, you must look even better out of them?” you whisper into his ear. The effect is exactly what you hoped for, Chan’s face is completely red now and he’s full on laughing which sends you into a laughing fit as well. “Baby where did you get all of these pick-up lines from?” Chans asks.

“That’s for me to know and for you to never find out, my love” you say and press your lips to his for a sweet kiss. Chan doesn’t miss the chance to deepen it, teeth nipping your bottom lip and tongue sweeping past to soothe the sting. He kisses you until you're breathless and then separates just enough to say, “Now, what movie should we watch?” 

Minho

~Hungry? I ordered your favorite~

‘It’s just been a rough day, Jagi’ 

‘I didn’t mean to snap over the phone earlier’

‘I’m sorry.’ 

You look up from the text thread you have with your boyfriend when you hear the door to the apartment close and the shuffling of keys and shoes. A minute later, an exhausted Minho slinks into the living room and stops in his tracks when he spots you standing there waiting for him. 

“Hey Min,” you start hesitantly, “I know today was rough, so I had Sungie let me in earlier so I could take care of you”. You rub the back of your neck sheepishly and continue, “It wasn’t much, I just folded some laundry and tidied up a bit.”

Minho just stares at you, unblinking as your nervous rambling continues. 

“Oh! And I picked up some dinner from that place you like around the corner! I wanted to make something, but you threatened to feed me to the cats the last time I tried to cook in your kitchen.” 

Feeling awkward with the continued silence on Minho’s end, you shuffle your feet and meet his eyes. You think you spy a sheen of wetness, but strong arms sweep you up into a crushing hug before you can double-check. You sigh in relief and squeeze back just as hard. 

The two of you stand there, wrapped up in the warm embrace for several minutes, until you feel every bit of tension leak from Minho’s frame and he strokes a hand through your hair. 

“Thank you, Jagi” he whispers and cups your face in his hands. His eyes are impossibly soft as they gaze at you and his cheeks are dusted with pink. “And you’re right, you’re not allowed to cook for me ever again.”

Changbin

~You look a little tense, want a massage?~ 

Changbin just got out of the shower after a morning gym session with Chan and you already have him pressed against the bathroom counter. Steam curls in the air around you and fogs the mirror a bit, but you can see the way his cheeks grow redder by the second as your hands snake their way up his sides and towards his chest. 

“L-Lovie, what are you doing?” Changbin stutters. You peek over his shoulder and watch your reflection as you squeeze his pecs, grinning when your dwaekki squeals. “I bet you’re sore, Binnie-baby, I wanna help you relax with a massage.” you purr into his red little ears. 

“I have been lifting heavier recently…” he murmurs. With a quick kiss to his hot cheek, you go back to your “massaging”. Changbin’s skin is still damp and slippery from the shower so your hands glide easily across his skin. You take your time, slowly kneading up his back while Changbin grunts and groans. You slip your hands around to his tummy and can’t resist grabbing and squeezing again. 

“Ah! What kind of massage is this?” Changbin whines loudly, but just as he’s opening his mouth to complain again, your sneaky fingers undo the towel that’s wrapped tightly around his waist and begin creeping south. 

“You don’t like it?” you pout and move as if you’re pulling away. Strong hands grab your wrists immediately as Changbin tugs your hands back to where they were, “Wait lovie, please! Keep going!” 

Hyunjin

~Can I do your makeup?~ 

Gentle music plays from your phone and the fairy lights strewn around your bedroom plus your favorite candle burning create an intimate and cozy atmosphere. You flutter around excitedly, gathering all the makeup items you need to give your boyfriend a makeover.

“I’m going to make you look like a fairy prince!” you chirp and climb into his lap, already reaching for a primer. “I don’t doubt it, my princess” Hyunjin smiles and rests his hands on your hips, eyes closing as he leans back against the headboard and enjoys your gentle touch. 

A comfortable silence follows, just the soft notes of your background music and the rustling of the sheets as you work your magic. You grab a colorful eyeshadow palette and grin, “Now for the exciting part! Look at me Hyunjinnie?” 

Hyunjin hums an affirmative and opens his eyes, making direct eye contact with you. This close, he can feel the soft puff of your breath on his lips, could count every eyelash as you concentrate on whatever you’re doing, and he feels his heart skip a beat. You’re just so pretty up close in this soft lighting, and the proximity plus your intense focus on him has his cheeks flushing. 

You take a moment to check your work but immediately throw your head back and laugh, “Hyunjin! I haven't even put any blush on you yet!”

Jisung

~How many licks does it take to get to the center?~

A crash can be heard from the other room, followed by a string of curses, then thundering footsteps rapidly draw closer. “Babycakes have you seen my-” Jisung trails off and his eyes widen as he takes in the scene in front of him. 

“Seen what, sweet cheeks?” You tilt your head and give him your best innocent look from where you’re sitting on the kitchen counter with your favorite flavor lollipop dangling from your mouth. You drag it out ever so slowly with a pop, then put it right back inside and swirl your tongue around the candy obscenely. You hum happily and admire your boyfriend’s dumbstruck expression.

Even from several feet away you can see the blush spread across his cheeks and a growing bulge in Jisung’s pants. ‘Hook, line, and sinker’ you smugly think to yourself, ‘The studio will have to wait.’

“Fuck babycakes, I don’t even remember what I was looking for,” Jisung groans and quickly makes his way over to you. In a blink his hands grip your thighs and he shoves himself between them. Big round eyes, half-lidded already, meet yours as he grabs the lollipop stick and tugs it free from your mouth. 

“Can I have a taste?”

Felix

~Did you know freckles are also called angel kisses?~

Shrieks and giggles echo around the apartment as you chase your boyfriend into the living room and tackle him onto the couch. “Just let me show you, Lixie!” 

“Never!” he cries and attempts to wiggle out from under you.

A short tickle fight ensues until, “Okay! Okay, I believe you, mercy please!” You grin triumphantly down at Felix and settle your weight on his hips to keep him pinned. Truthfully, he could get away if he wanted to, but you both know Felix loves when you manhandle him a bit.

“Stay still, I have to make sure I get every single freckle,” you say as you rain kisses across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, loud and obnoxious on purpose to make him giggle and draw that big toothy smile again. You move up to his forehead, followed by each eyelid gently, then the tip of his cute nose. Finally, you press your lips to his softly for a chaste peck once, twice, three times and his lips chase yours as you pull away.

“I think you got every one, angel,” Felix’s eyes shine with adoration as they look up into yours, his cheeks flushed the most beautiful shade of pink and his glossy black hair a mess on the cushions beneath him. 

But the longer you admire him, the more a devilish smirk starts to take over and he casts his gaze down his body slowly, “On my face at least. I think you might have missed a few down here though… Let’s check just to be sure.”

Seungmin

~Did you get my note?~

“How many of these did you hide in my room sweetheart?” Seungmin’s voice is muffled from where he’s digging through his closet. “This is the last one Minnie, maybe you should check the hoodie I left you?” you giggle and flip onto your stomach, stretching out across your hotel bed.

Sure enough, Seungmin pulls out a pink origami heart from the pocket. He comes back to his desk where his propped up phone displays your face, and rolls his eyes as he drops the note in front of you. “How can you be so annoying from so far away?” 

His grumpy act doesn’t last long, a small smile creeps onto his handsome face while deft fingers undo the heart. He reads the note slowly, then glances at you and reads it again. Your eyes are glued to the screen of your phone and you watch the prettiest pink blush spread across your boyfriend’s cheeks.

“All it takes is me confessing my undying love to make you blush, puppy?” you coo. “Shut it!” Seungmin groans and hides his face behind his hands. You can’t help but cackle at how shy your boyfriend gets when you’re being sappy. 

After a few moments Seungmin lowers his hands and reluctantly meets your eyes through the screen, “I love and miss you too, your flight leaves in the morning, right?”. 

“Yeah,” you sigh happily, “Can’t wait to see my puppy.”  

Jeongin

~Is that my shirt?~

Soft morning light filters through the curtains and as quietly as you can, you slip from the sleep-mussed sheets and look around for something to wear. You huff at the mess of yours and Jeongin’s clothes strewn around your room and just pull on the first shirt you see and some fresh panties. 

Jeongin is still snoozing away peacefully and you can’t help but take a moment to admire his fluffy hair and the marks you left on him after your wild night together. ‘A performance like that deserves a feast for breakfast’ you think to yourself.

You’ve only got the coffee started and the rice washed and in the rice cooker before your sleepy boyfriend shuffles into the kitchen. You turn away from the sink to find Jeongin, in just his sweatpants, frozen in place as he looks you up and down. Legs bare, hair messy, and he can make out the edge of his bite mark on your inner thigh where it’s peeking out from under the hem of his shirt.   

“Hey Honey-Bun, how’d you sleep- WHOA!” Jeongin has crossed the room and scooped you up into his arms before you can even finish. You scramble to wrap your legs around his waist as he quickly makes his way back to the bedroom. “What are you doing?!” you screech.

You’re tossed onto the bed and you stare wide-eyed as Jeongin’s flushed face and heated eyes come closer. “I think I’ll have breakfast in bed, baby…”  

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed my first SKZ fic, and happy birthday Yang Jeongin!

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Divider by @enchanthings

[faemurmur]

Hey gurlie 😊! I had this idea in my head for a while but can you do a reaction to y/n asking hc Sylus and zayne (seperately) if she can peg them (as a prank but she ends up regretting it) *her poor legs 🙏. You can make it aa long as you want, whatever makes you comfortable. (You can do the others if you feel like it, thats up to you. If you decide to do this then ty gurlie.

hey pretty 😌💕 OH BABY you already KNOW i’m taking this and running. you’re over here playin’ games with sylus and zayne, thinking you’re slick—

“teehee can i peg you 😏”

and girl you lived to regret that LMAO 💀 your poor legs… they never stood a chance. all wobbly and they love that you’re struggling so hard 🙂‍↔️

-> sylus reaction — “you think you’re funny?”

you: “sylus… can i peg you? 😇”

him: slow head turn. red eye glowing. death in the air.

you had exactly 0.5 seconds to run.

he doesn’t yell. doesn’t smirk. he just sets down his glass, stands up, and locks the fucking door. there is an innate amusement that’s plastered on his lips, the squint of his ruby eyes and the intensity of what’s he going to do to you now. ;)

“repeat that, sweetie?” he says calmly, pulling off his black gloves like he’s about to perform surgery.

you giggle. it’s a prank. a joke. or so you thought—

except now you’re pressed face-first into the nearest surface and his hand is gripping your neck with purpose.

“you want to be in charge?” he purrs, voice dark and way too calm.

“then take responsibility for what you said, little kitten.” he hums, leaning in against your ear and purring.

next thing you know you’re bent over the console, your legs spread, one thigh already shaking. good thing you’re wearing a dress, he just needs to slide that up and shove your cute panties to the side. “you see, i don’t have to wear a strap on— to fuck you.” he smirks, watching your tightness swallow him whole. he doesn’t give you the time to prepare, just pumps your fluttering cunt over & over with determination.

and he doesn’t stop at one round. how can he? when you look so utterly gorgeously all overstimulated…. he needs himself in you, breeding you — repeatedly.

he mocks your tone the whole time, hips snapping into yours with vengeance.

“can i peg you, sylus?” he snarls while you scream.

“let’s see if you can even stand after this, doll.”

spoiler alert: you couldn’t.

he carried you to bed bridal style and whispered “nice try” in your ear like a villain kissing the princess he just destroyed.

don’t worry though because now he’s back like a silly little labubu >:3 cuddling you, kissing you and tending to you. aftercare king 👑

-> zayne reaction — “…are you okay?”

you: “dr. zayne…can i peg you 😏”

him: “…huh?”

he freezes. completely blue-screened. his glasses fog up. “it’s funny how you come up with these things unabashedly.” he adjusts his glasses, trying to keep a straight face but he’s flustered.

“you… you wanna put something in me?” he’s genuinely in disbelief. “when have you developed this new kink?”

his voice cracks. you nearly DIE laughing.

“i’m just joking!!” you wheeze, slapping his shoulder. “you’re so silly.” you kiss his cheek. you love it when your all knowing cardiac-surgeon just doesn’t understand what to do with emotional stunted-ness.

he smiles. the same beautiful smile that lights up his eyes, however, too bad for you there is a hint of mischief.

“ah. haha. you’re funny.”

oh no.

next thing you know he’s dragging you to the bed, “come here, let me show you the difference between a strap & a real deal.”

and he’s mean in that Zayne™ way—

sweet voice, filthy words, and calculated punishment.

he makes you ride him—overstimulated, legs shaking, holding onto his shoulders like he’s your only grip on reality. and he just smirks up at you. “this is your punishment for putting that image in my brain, little one.”

“and now you ride until you cry.”

you did.

you cried and begged and sobbed and shook.

and he whispered “good girl” into your mouth while you came again. for the third time. all over him, hips stuttering and body convulsing. a sheen of sweat covering you up.

you didn’t walk for a day and a half. you could. but you were too exhausted & you love how sloppy and loving zayne gets after he’s fucked you half dead :3 you have your favorite sweets ordered, he’s giving you a massage, he’s kissing your ankles, telling you how good you were. how proud of you he is and how much he can’t stand not being without you <3

[fanaticsnail]

Oh snail, i know you already have a long list of WIPs (i can't wait to read them) and your Inbox is probably already full with requests, so i understand if its not in the cards right now.

I was just wondering what the kid-pirates would do, or how they would react if ther precious doc-reader is the one that was injured badly or was very sick. Especialy how Killer would react after that romantic tention between them (i need more of that 😩). I don't have a particular song in mind, because the seires already has a vibe to it, hope thats okay.

I wish you a wonderful day/night/evening! 💕Sooo looking forward to your next work, whatever it may be 🐢

I love you for this prompt, @daydreamer-in-training. Thank you!

Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?

Hey Doc Masterlist here

Word Count: 2,000+

Synopsis: You've taken care of your crew and nursed them back to health from their flus... but now it's your turn. The Kid-Pirates do their best to take care of the worlds worst patient, their doctor: you.

Themes: platonic!kid-pirates, eustass kid x gn!reader, swearing, illness, comforting, taking medication, kid is a bit of a dom, doc is a bit of a bra, you're the kid-pirate doctor: the crew calls you 'doc'.

Notes: I am currently struggling with the flu myself, and this was simply too cute to not write about. Thank you for your ask, it's been fun to write about!

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sinning-23 @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @nerium-lil

“Hey, Doc? Did we need any more petroleum jelly from the-...?” the fire breather called beside you, hating when you turned to face him, “...-Shit, Doc. You look like absolute balls today.” 

Rolling your swollen, glassy and red eyes at him, you draw another tissue from your counter and sneeze into it. The silky tissue felt like sandpaper over your leaky nose, the skin splitting surrounding your nostrils and leaving small stains of red on the pale paper.

“Always so full of compliments and kindness, Heat,” you huff out, your voice sounding hoarse and cracking along with every word. Heat cringed, recoiling away from you with eyes narrowed in sympathy. You attempt to breathe through your blocked nose, no air passing through the dual nostrils.

Treating the crew for the past two weeks, and nursing them to health in recovering from the flu, had finally caught up with you. You felt both cold and hot at the same time, your skin both dry and sticky with sweat. Mind swelling and cracking behind the tense throbbing throughout your brain caused a dull ache ringing in your ears and fogging your mind.

“I-... I’m just saying, Doc,” he reiterated in defense of himself, “You don’t look too good. Maybe you ought to sit out from the in-land trip to restock. Stay home on the Victoria Punk?” Heat suggested with a soft smile and a subtle shrug.

“What?” you grunted out a cough, “And leave you lot to restock my clinic for me? Not fucking like-...” coughing into another tissue, your glassy eyes pricked at the corners and began to spill out and down your cheeks, “...-likely.” 

Heat’s smile fled from his face, his lip downturning in sympathy. He shook his head and extended his hand out to you, gesturing you to follow him out through the door towards the deck. You attempt to sniff back another intake of air to reopen your nose to no avail. Following on, you trudge somberly towards the top deck where the crew were all waiting to step foot onto the pier. 

Without drawing attention to yourself, your eyes squinted lazily to compensate for the pain the sun caused your mind. With each achy step, you attempted to bite back the ache your body was going through. Barely aware of your surroundings, you gesture in the medicinal remedy booths at town square for herbs, ointments and aromatic fragrances. 

As you reached into your pocket to pull out your small folder of Berry, a large right forearm reached over your shoulder and paid the vendor before you could. Rolling your eyes, you turn to look at the scowling grimace of your captain, Eustass Kid, baring his rage down at you. Attempting to roll your eyes at him again, you clenched them tightly shut instead as the world became far too bright to process.

“Captain,” you acknowledge him with a clumsy nod, fighting the urge to not to fall over with the vertigo overcoming you. He growled at you immediately, gesturing to Wire beside him to gather the supplies and walk back to the ship. 

“You’re a real fuckin’ idiot, aren’t ya, Doc?” he spat, scolding you with his heavy growl. You laughed at him, shaking your swirling head and beginning to walk beside him. Your overexertion and sleep deprivation caught up with you as you tripped over an uneven divot in the rocky path.

“I'm not into degradation, Cap,” you respond in a half-joking hum, your eyes feeling heavy and weighted, “Not my kink. Might be yours, though, considering the amount of times I yell at you to hold you accountable.” That comment earnt you another low growl from your captain, his face turning a few shades darker than his hair. 

He turned to face you at his side, his lips curling as if to speak. As he opened his lips, he was lost for words as you fell into him, bracing yourself against him to steady your walk. He caught you in his right arm, bringing his face down towards you and brows knitting with concern. Turning towards Wire, he cocked his chin to the side to usher him on towards the ship. 

With no further warning, Kid dipped at the knees and hoisted you up into his chest beneath your thighs. He curled his bicep and hooked your head beneath his chin and cradled you firmly into him. Under usual circumstances, you would’ve fought this tooth and nail.

You do not enjoy being manhandled by the crew, especially by your captain. While you enjoy the embrace once in a while with your more sensitive crewmates, particularly Bubblegum, the Captain has only ever been this close to you when he’s sparring with you.

“C’mon Doc, I'll get you seen to,” he grunted down at your position curled into his chest, “I’ve-... And the-...” his words trailed off, the fever raising your temperature higher and prompting you to seek out sleep against his pectoral. 

Voices and words fade in and out of your ears, a slow drawl and murmurs of several of your crewmates swelling around your assumed resting spot for the day. The room wasn’t physically moving, even though your vertigo suggested it was. 

“When was the last time Doc’s had a day off?” you recognised the feminine voice of Quincy in the room beside you. Several grunts and incessant babbling reverberated around the room, prompting you to flutter your eyelashes open and push through the pain. 

“Doc!” you cringed as a body almost flew into your bed, sitting on the plush sheets beside you, “You’re awake! I’m so happy to see you’re up!” You wince, slowly waving Bubblegum away, swatting at his zig-zagged head.

“Off, off,” you shooed him, wincing as you shrugged your duvet off your thighs and swung your legs over the side of the bed. As you began to wobble to your feet, the booming voice of your captain called over the chatter of the room,

“Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?” he growled, striding over in intentional steps and giving you a shove from his right hand in the middle of your chest, “The medics here said you need a week in bed to rest. Sit down.” You growled at him, doing your best to gather the strength to growl at him. 

“If I’ve been prescribed ‘rest’,” you began, gesturing to the crewmates surrounding your current room, “Why the fuck are you all here?” Several sheepish mutters surround the room, a few members pinching the scruffs of their necks, a few more wringing their hands in front of their waists. 

Your captain clapped his hand on your shoulder, pushing you to lay back down and wrangling you into your bedsheets. Refusing to go down without a fight this time, you wriggled in his grip and fought both the fever and the strong arm of your captain. 

“For fucks sake, Doc!” Kid yelled at you, pushing and shoving you down into the very comfortable and unfamiliar bed in front of the crew. “Just lay down and rest, damn it! Go back to sleep.” You wriggled harder. 

“No!” you yelled defiantly, kicking off the duvet and fighting each and every time your captain attempted to shove you into your bed. Kid looked around to the crew, angled his chin sharply to wordlessly order them to leave the room. As they left, Kid turned back towards you and crawled up onto the bed. 

“You are more of a pain in the ass than that fucking bullet to the buttcheek,” he growled, climbing over you and baring down his weight onto your smaller frame. Straddling your thighs, he placed his knees on your open palms and successfully pinned you beneath him. He pressed his forearm over your chest and gave you a firm shove to force you to lay down. You had no choice but to thump your head back into the plush pillow behind your head. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you clench your jaw and growl behind your lips. The rumble in your throat hurt the raw swell in your jugular, but you pushed past it to air your frustrations at him regardless. The chuckle from your captain above you only served to propel your anger to rise higher. 

“Yeah, yeah. Growl and groan all you want,” he scoffed at you, pinning your chest with his bicep while reaching his hand between you and gathering the blankets in his fist. Slowly raising it up, he continued his place straddling your thighs until he thought you would no longer fight him. 

“Why are you doing this, Captain?” you snarl at him, finally opening your eyes to gaze up into his eyes. He smirked at you in response, pressing his palm to your forehead and clicking his tongue at the temperature. 

“Because,” he leaned over to the bedside, taking two small spherical tablets into his hand, “We love you, Doc.” He leaned back over you, gesturing with his chin for you to part your lips. You take a moment to snarl at him before complying, parting your lips and allowing him to place the bitter tablets on your tongue. 

He leaned back over to the bedside, finding a glass of water and bringing it down to your lips. Tilting the glass slowly as it brushed with your bottom lip, he carefully fed you a sip of water to take the pills with. Placing the glass back over on the table, he drew his attention to the small amount of water seeping from the corner of your lip.

“Now, be a good Doctor and get loved on, idiot,” he softly huffed, his voice low and husky as he leaned forward. He used the pad of his thumb to gently collect the spill of water from the corner of your lips. Your eyes never ceased its glare up at him. He grinned tauntingly down at you, arching his brow and ensuring you swallowed the tablets. 

“Get off, Captain,” you growled at him, bucking your hips up in an attempt to remove him from your body. He cackled his rumbled laugh down at you in response, shaking his head. 

“You gonna get up again if I do?” he asked, leaning down and caressing your cheek in a gentle stroke. His eyes held nothing but mischievous mockery, but his hand felt like it was gently coaxing you to comply with what he asked. 

“No, I’ll behave,” you snarled at him. His laugh was genuine this time, low and gentle. Slowly backing off you, he slid off your body before adjusting the sheets and smoothing them over. 

“Good,” he nodded, beginning to leave the room by the door off to the side of the room. Halting at the door, he fought with himself for a moment before looking at you over his shoulder and uttering, “I’ll-… I’ll get Kil to check on you in a few hours. Get some rest, okay?”

What he said next was something you weren’t expecting to come from his lips. In all the time you served with him, he only ever called you ‘Doc’, or ‘Doctor.’ You were your title, and you appreciated that about the crew. You were Doc, only ever Doc. But what he said changed all that.

After he uttered the word “okay,” it was immediately followed by your name. Waiting a few moments, you responded in a cadence just above a whisper. 

“I’ll be right where you left me, Kid,” you replied with a soft smile back at him. He closed his eyes, offering you a reflection of your smile in return before it grew back into its usual mischievous face. 

“Good,” he again offered you, scrunching his nose up at you and looking up through his red eyelashes at you, “Otherwise I would’ve gotten your doting daddy to come coddle his whiny baby.” Your eyes went wide, your jaw clenching and your eyebrows shot up to your hairline. 

Eustass Kid just laughed in response, exiting the room and giving you both the time and space you needed to recover. Your recovery was not only the flu, but of the second hand embarrassment that Killer must’ve relayed to Kid what he’d said to you in the consultation room. Either that, or you left the shell of your Den-Den accidentally activated from when you spoke with your captain earlier in the day.

Either way, you pouted as you did as you were told and huffed back into your bed and went to sleep: the paracetamol activating and stilling your swelling head and masking the undertones of pain in your body.

[katyawriteswhump]

Take my hand (and we’ll make it, I swear) 💕

Rating: M; WC: 2945; CW: mentions of recreational drug use; Tags: O!Steve, A!Eddie, Omegaverse au, Steve has chronic pain syndrome/fibromyalgia, scenting, mutual crushes, Steve has shitty parents, angst and hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, cuddling and snuggling, happy/hopeful ending. Summary: O!Steve is losing his mind, struggling with chronic pain, and it feels like nobody believes him or hears his pleas for help. In his desperation, he goes to A!Eddie to score drugs… and they end up ‘saving’ each other.

For @steddiebingo fill, ‘Ring,’ and @steddiesongfics May prompt, Free space and AU. Song inspiration, Livin’ on a Prayer, by Bon Jovi (not exactly original tho’ I was mainlining the 80s again and it got indelibly stuck in my head. The original version of the fic used the song more integrally, rewrites after my laptop disaster ended up more loosely inspired till the end😉) Read on Ao3

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Eddie drops onto one knee on the dewy grass.

He plucks off one of his own rings—the blue mood ring on his right hand, tho’ they all mean everything to Steve—and offers it up between a finger and thumb.

Steve staggers backward. Might’ve literally toppled, if it hadn’t been for his Alpha landing a hand, warm and steadying, on his hip.

“Steve Harrington, will you…”

Steve’s blood pounds to the phantom beats from the ghetto blaster Eddie recently switched off. His brain is a freakin’ fog. He’d been having a shitty night, his pain and insomnia feeding greedily on each other, as per ever. Eddie woke too, as he intuitively does, when his Omega’s struggling this bad.

They came out to wait for the dawn. So yeah, this feels like a hazy dream.

“…marry me?”

It’s real. As is that cliché of a galaxy glittering across his Alpha’s super-earnest, super-loving eyes. 

Eddie loves him. The Omega who often lacks the energy to style his hair. The Omega whose scent is too regularly soured with pain. It is right now, when he’s on top of the world, really. It’s like there’s always a darn bluebottle drowning in his honeysuckle perfume.

He’s sucked in the best Alpha in Hawkins too, tho’, so that’s a total win.

He dabs his eyes, sniffs, kinda squeals. The heat of his Alpha’s touch flows through his sore hip and floods his belly, and his heart, with warmth.

They both know what Steve’s answer is going to be. 

Life shouldn’t be this perfect.

…

Three years ago

“Are you okay, Steve?” asks Chrissy, dropping her pom poms and hurrying over.

“I’m good. Quit fussing and leave me alone already.”

She’s hunted him down in the locker room at the end of Omega cheer squad practice, and yes, he’s lying. He’s not okay. He’s not crying either, which is one strike for his tattered pride, tho’ he’s pretty damn close. His eyes and throat burn with unshed tears. 

He wants to sneer, “Come to gloat?”

Apart from this is Chrissy. Kind, caring Chrissy. Why the heck is he being a bitch? 

His only excuse is that he’s useless, and that’s on him. He can’t even follow a cheer routine without his shoulders feeling like they’d been wrenched at the sockets, and he’s constantly stumbling over his own damn feet. No wonder she quietly suggested he sit out the pyramid and basket toss.

Now, she sits down and curls an arm around him. “Stevie, you’re not okay.” 

He chokes the truth out to her. Doing anything, everything, any sport, any movement at all—hell, even sitting down in class—it hurts.

“Chrissy, what’s wrong with me? The doctors haven’t a clue. They say I’m making it up. Why the heck would I do that?”

She folds both arms around him and snuggles him properly. Her scent is sweet, proper Omega cotton-candy sweet, saturated with comfort pheromones that only choke him up more.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” she sniffles.

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

It is my fault. For not being the grade-A, piano maestro, sports champ Alpha he was supposed to be. Who else was there to blame?

“It’s not your fault either, Stevie.”

He actually smirks. 

Of course, she knows what he’s thinking. Clever, empathetic Chrissy. He’s not even good at being Omega, not like her.

He knows she’ll never push him away. He quietly drops out of the squad.

In the final years of High School, the fatigue kills him worse than the pain. He rarely sleeps for more than an hour or two, and his grades crash and burn. 

His love life crashes and burns, too. 

He takes a chance on Jason Carver. One moment, the Alpha is husking in his ear, “Gonna take good care of you, little darling.” The next, he’s growling, “Gonna split you so wide you’ll squeal for your momma. Gonna bone you so hard your brains rattle.”

“Yeah, I’ll pass on that one, Romeo.”

Jason seems genuinely hurt. Steve realizes that it was supposed to be a ‘turn on.’ For other Omegas maybe. Omega biology can absorb some pretty full-on fuckings. For the Omega off sick half the time, who’s been barred from all the sports he once loved?

No thanks, dickwad. Read the room.

He swears off Alphas. Their spiky, predatory stench makes his over-sensitive skin crawl, and his own perfume grows simply depressing, bitter as vinegar. Besides, how is he supposed to be a goddess in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom, if he can’t get out of bed in the morning? He bruises easily, too, like the rotten apple he is. How will he ever safely perch a pup on his hip?

And yeah, he’s a bitch to everyone, exhausted and fractious all the time. Probably deserves the ‘frigid cow’ graffiti somebody sprays on his locker.

Nobody will want him. Ever.

Then his mom flushes his painkillers down the toilet. “I don’t want you getting addicted to those things, Steven.”

He tries to explain. It’s not like he’s getting high. He only wants to get to some place where he feels normal. Where every raw nerve, every fiber in his body, stops complaining enough to let him sleep.

Nobody listens. Which is how he ends up arranging to meet Eddie Munson at some skanky picnic bench in the scrubby strip of forest behind the football ground.

Munson isn’t there when he arrives. Its dead quiet. Too quiet. Not a bird squawks, and it’s bordering on creepy.

Steve slides onto the bench and slumps forward, pillowing his head in his arms. 

This is insane. 

Munson is an Alpha. Steve should leave, like now, for a billion good reasons. On the other hand, his legs are a crazy cross between jello and ton weights, and he’s used a whole day’s worth of energy getting here.

“Harrington?”

Steve jumps, squeaks, gulps air into his too-tight lungs. Eddie looms over him. Also, smiles down at him, and his eyes are kind. 

His scent reassures Steve, whose rabbiting heartbeat slows. He inhales Indiana fir and juniper berry, with low notes of earthiness and freshly ground coffee. It’s potently Alpha, yeah without being punchy or scary. Eddie’s words underline his soothing musk: 

“You’re safe, I promise. Nobody ever comes out here.”

He sits down opposite Steve, places a boxy kind of satchel between them, opening it to reveal packets of druggy shit inside. A cloying marijuana stench sticks in Steve’s throat and makes his eyes water, and he wishes he could just taste more of Eddie. 

Eddie, meanwhile, explains how the exchange is gonna work. Then pauses, a smile flirting across his absurdly pillowy-soft looking lips:

“Can’t believe here I am doing a drug deal with Stevie Harrington, the Omega Princess of Hawkins High.”

“Uuuuuh, I think you’re mistaking me for Chrissy Cunningham? Or you’re outta your mind on your own weed and missed, like, a year of everyone’s life.”

“My Liege Lady, you wound me!” Eddie’s hands clasp his chest like he’s been stabbed. Then—to the soundtrack of Steve’s latest surprised squeak—he tumbles dramatically from the bench. “I am a loyal and true knight! After all, this isn’t the first time we've hung out together.”

Huh?

Eddie springs up like Tigger. “Have I got stuff in my hair, Princess?”

He clowns around, fiddling with that feral mane, which Steve is already hankering to groom. He reminds Steve of their ‘shared history.’ Steve laughs so hard he hiccups, and yeah!  He does remember that Middle School talent show.  

Turns out, Eddie was that dude with buzzed hair. 

The dude who, though Steve keeps silent about it, he’d secretly crushed on for months. Eddie’s band, Corroded Coffin, had gone down a whole lot better than Steve’s yawn-fest piano recital. At least following that, his mom had let him focus on sports, and on the cheer squad after he presented Omega, until… until…

Eddie yanks down his collar to display more of the ‘sweet ol’ tatties’ that’d transformed his look so completely. Steve starts salivating, sucking and licking and even biting at his own lips. 

No doubt now. He’s still gotten that damn crush. He longs to lick the salt from Eddie’s inky skin, nibble that creamy collar bone. He wants that expressive hand, with all its badass chunky silver rings, to clasp his. Above all, he yearns to crawl into Eddie’s lap, be cocooned in that caressing Alpha scent. 

To feel safe, to let it smother his pain.

Yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen. 

His a-hole of a body is already destroying this glimmer of fun. He was so tired this morning, he forgot his sunshades, and the daylight glare is triggering a headache, even out among the trees. He rubs his brow, feeling slightly sick and dizzy, then a gust of wind slams him from behind, scattering leaves, litter, and any remnants of Eddie’s scent. That bone-deep weariness reclaims him. His spine sags, and his eyes flutter closed.

“You okay there, Stevie?” Eddie is sat opposite again, his stash bag open. “You don’t want to do this, just give me the word, I’ll walk away.”

“No! Please, I don’t want you to go. It’s just… I’m in pain, like, all the time. I can’t sleep, and I’ve tried weed, and…” His teeth skate up his lower lip, which is getting sore. Probably all yuck and swollen. Ew, he must look gross. And did he even remember to put concealer on the circles beneath his eyes. He shades his face. “I wondered if you’d got anything maybe stronger? I got cash. Plenty of it.”

Eddie closes his bag with a devastating clack. “I can’t do this, Stevie. My mom had issues a bit like yours. More Omegas have to put up with this kinda shit than you think. Let’s just say, folks weren’t very kind to her either, and in the end… the wrong drugs didn’t help, okay?"

Steve almost defaults to cranky bitch mode, his mind reaching for something unforgivable to say about Eddie’s junkie mom. Eddie obviously wants rid of him. He might as well force the issue by saying something horrible and doubtless untrue.

Instead, tho’, he forces a trembling hand across the table, grabs those be-ringed fingers. They both startle slightly, and Steve conjures the truth.

“Please, Alpha, I need something. Anything. I’m so through with it all, and… I honestly don’t think I could make it back to school without help.” Eddie pulses Steve’s fingers, and Steve’s heart squeezes with a pathetic hope. He’d do anything to prolong this time with Eddie, and he can’t believe what he’s about to say: “C-can I, erm… sniff you? I-I don’t usually like the scent of Alphas. I really like yours, and maybe it will help?”

Eddie gawks at him. He’s grossed out. Ugh, of course he is. Steve tugs his hand away, wishing the forest would somehow swallow him. Where are those ravenous Omega-munching bears when you need them? 

Then he sees.

Eddie is nodding vigorously, a strange unreadable glow in his intoxicating eyes. “Yeah, you can totally do that.”

Eddie scoots around the table and slides onto the bench, closing in. Steve cringes and wriggles away slightly. “Oh God,” he moans, “I’m such a freak.”

“Don’t steal my thunder, Honey.” Eddie waggles his brows, swinging his legs around so he’s leaning against the table. “Would it help if I..?”

Eddie opens his arms, and Steve surrenders, tumbling forward, notching his nose above that inviting collarbone. Eddie enfolds him gently, and he’s choking up. 

He’s been touch starved so long.

He swallows hard then breathes Eddie in till his lungs are bursting. Till an incredible sense of ease overwhelms. Instincts kick in, and he tentatively slides his nose up Eddie’s throat.

He licks and nibbles that salty inked skin, hugs loosely around Eddie’s neck and simply inhales more. Eddie’s scent seems to be getting stronger. Which must be born of pity. Nothing more. Soon, however, Steve is literally chewing on earthy fruity tones that are, somehow, uniquely Eddie. His headache fades to a bearable background hum.

“Is this okay?” Eddie’s fingers lightly comb through Steve’s hair, kindling truly delicious shivers.

“Mmmmmm,” sighs Steve. “As long as you don’t mind?”

“Mind? I don’t leak off pheromones like this for any random Omega who bats their electric-blue lashes at me. For you, Pretty Baby? I could do this all day. So, now I’ve come clean… Is this okay?” 

The revelation washes through Steve, leaving a strange fizzy frothy sensation in its wake. 

Eddie likes him. 

Eddie likes him, and that super-strength Alpha aroma surely can’t lie. And it's been so darn long since he’s been called ‘pretty.’ His tears are leaking, steady and silent. He wants to burrow into Eddie, and sleep forever, till every last shred of his pain and misery slides away.

“Yes,” he whispers, brokenly, “I love it. Th-thank you, Alpha.”

Time passes. All of it floaty and wonderful, and Steve faintly realizes it’s not all about the scent. He’s never believed in that quasi-mystical tug everyone yaps about, between Alphas and Omegas. He’s beginning to, which is dumb, because he barely knows Eddie. He wallows in it all the same, clinging ever tighter, revelling in the coolness of Eddie’s rings as the Alpha’s palm lightly cups his nape. 

Eddie’s solid heartbeat thrums through him, till his own falls into sync. 

Steve crawls into Eddie’s lap, and Eddie rumbles in blatant appreciation. He holds Steve and gently sways, rubbing soft circles down Steve’s sore spine, his burning hips and always miserable lower back. Their bodies notch together as if some crazy deity created them to fit this way.

Occasionally, a breeze ruffles Steve’s hair. Other than that, the whole rest of the world has scooted away. 

All that exists is them. 

Steve lays his head on Eddie’s chest and sighs contentedly.

“You’re not what I thought you’d be like,” he says at length, peeping up through the blur of his lashes.

Eddie beams, flashing his Alpha fangs. “What? Mean and scary? Alpha as He-man? Nearly as Alpha as She-ra herself?”

“Yeah. You’re not like that at all.” Eddie hoots and Steve mentally facepalms. “Crap! That came out wrong. I mean, obviously, you’re still uber-Alpha and all, and mega scary—"

“It’s okay, I get ya, and you know, flattery works with me, so I’ll let you in on a secret. There was a time I thought you were terrifying, Harrington.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you and your mighty pompoms, and your ice-princess pout, and those green ribbons jangling in your petrifyingly perfect hair. Always had a bit of a crush, tho’.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No, I swear.”

Steve giggles, and the answering rattle of Eddie’s laughter awakes something—a strange unfamiliar vibration that radiates from Steve’s chest. Christ, is he purring? Hot on its heels, something like warm honey starts trickling from Steve’s innermost core.

He gasps. Then he giggles again. His fingers twist in the back of Eddie’s Hellfire-club t-shirt, clenching in sheer surprise.

He’s perfuming wildly, and it’s not all sourness and yuck. Somewhere, blooming deep inside Steve, are honeysuckle levels of sweetness.

“Baby,” husks Eddie, dropping a gentle kiss to Steve’s hair, “you smell completely amazing.”

…

Eddie holds Steve for as long as he needs. In fact, he never lets Steve go. 

While Steve’s pain doesn’t vanish overnight, it’s more bearable when somebody ‘gets’ it. When he’s not so incredibly alone. Also, he’s now got a living, breathing body-wrapping hot water bottle, and Eddie’s Alpha fingers do their bestest to soften his seriously bullet-proof muscle knots.

He’s found an Alpha who will be gentle with him, and he’s grateful every damn day.

Mutual need and love happen first. A realisation that they complete each other, that they can’t be apart without ripping their souls in two. Then leisurely, loving sex happens. Eddie makes Steve’s body sing with pleasure and that, in itself, is a fucking miracle.

“You saved me, Honey,” says Eddie, one day, as they’re cuddling and figuring life out. “I wasn’t an Alpha. I was a kid, pushing drugs to other kids because I couldn’t see any other way to rock and roll. You gave me the kick up the ass I needed.”

Steve smiles and purrs into Eddie’s neck.

They still struggle. However they manage to get their paws on them, Steve’s meds cost far too much. He refuses to let Eddie pawn his guitar.

They hold each other through the endless nights, with Eddie worrying, working two bar jobs to pay the bills. Steve hates not being able to earn much and still gets snappy sometimes. 

“Baby, it’s okay,” whispers Eddie, when Steve cries because it’s all too much, “it’s okay.”

His parents are out of the picture now. They’ve had their fill of Steve’s ‘weakness and faking,’ and ‘typical Omega attention-seeking antics.’ Wayne stands by them, steadfast and solid. Good, kind, unjudging Uncle Wayne.

And now here they are, on a hilltop backlit by a smudgy yellow dawn. Steve is managing his pain, not ‘beating’ it, but getting by with a temp job in retail. And Eddie earns enough at the bar and as a gigging guitarist to start to save. They’re not sure if they can have pups, let alone afford them. The future is theirs, together, whatever happens.

“Steve Harrington, will you marry me?”

Steve’s nodding his head off, grinning his face off. Eddie slides that ring onto his outstretched finger, chasing up the cool slide of metal with a warm and slightly damp kiss.

Steve drops to his knees, arms flung around Eddie’s neck, cheek rested, perfectly dry, on Eddie’s shoulder. He breathes in the perfection of life, and of being alive and in love.

“Like you need to ask, idiot,” he murmurs into Eddie’s ear. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

no pressure tag @wheneverfeasible (if anyone else would like to be tagged, I would be very happy to do so) 💕💕💕💕💕

my steddie omegaverse fic on AO3 💕💕💕💕💕

[crimson-and-clover-1717]

Ten reasons Ed Teach is lovable 💕

kindness The sweetness and care he shows Stede when he awakes. The way he greets the crew. The patience with Jack, and Izzy, neither of whom deserve it. How quickly he wins over Zheng with his goofy giggles…

feels deeply The hurt at being mocked is palpable. The indescribable pain at Stede’s leaving. The shock and fallout from Izzy’s threats. The lack continued lack of self esteem. But Ed also feels deeply in positive ways, showing awe and wonder at Stede’s curios, fabrics, books, marmalade. Such joy at catching a fish! And he feels romantic love at a very deep level. No one has loved like Ed Teach in the history of loving.

so fucking clever Date error aside, the fog / tidal plan is fantastic. And the save with the lighthouse fuckery, sublime - because Ed came up with the practicalities of how they were going to be a lighthouse on the bounce. And whilst disturbing, it takes a genius of a mind to come up with that gravy basket imagery, including the Merstede vision. Even Ed’s survival mechanism, heartbreaking as it is, is objectively wonderful. The artistic compartmentalisation of personas. Ed both protects and breaks himself on his cleverness. But the clever working class boy who deserves the world, and finally gets it, is a trope which will never grow old for me.

believes in a best self Ed’s not quite sure what that looks like on any given day, but he wants to be utmost in who he is. ‘Jeff… never turns his back on a challenge.’ ‘Blackbeard always wins’ (problem actually). ‘‘Behold… / I’m a fisherman now… you said it was a good fish’.

And Ed’s supportive of others too. ‘You’ve got it all figured out’, ‘The sheer talent on this ship…’ Even in dark moments, Jim is ‘quite the specimen’.

Ed needs to realise that his best self is not necessarily one with no mistakes, and others aren’t without fault either (Stede, he learns the hard way). But the fact Ed won’t settle for a mediocre version of life anymore, believes in better… I love him for it.

violence as a last resort. Ed’s MO is non-violence first, prior to the Kraken spiral. Even during the raids, he is more of an observer. Ed’s attitude to violence is never casual. Pete, Roach, even Wee John… they have casual attitudes to violence in a way never demonstrated by Ed. The twice he appears to commit violence directly is to protect his mother after years of abuse, and protect Stede against colonial violence. It’s violence in the name of love.

forgives easily Too easily at times. The grace he shows over and over to Izzy. How quickly he forgives Stede (that’s okay). The only character he doesn’t forgive easily is himself. Ed’ll get there.

gets Stede Immediately. The excitement at Stede’s knickknacks. Understanding Stede is a lunatic, and that this is a likeable, desirable trait. The viewer understanding Stede through Ed’s focalisation is key to getting the show.

so goofy Ed’s cosplaying Stede within thirty minutes. He’s a theatre kid, jumping down three easy steps on a swing-rope; fuckeries, canon-balling off the ship, the gorgeous chaos of the post-coital breakfast…

has hope (it’s cute) That he ran towards the light of The Gentleman Pirate That he believed they could run away to China and be happy. That his dying brain was able to create Merstede. That he wants to give innkeeping a try even when he’s half-dead…

Ed could’ve been so hard and brittle by middle age, but he isn’t. He has boyish hope and it’s part of what saves him.

he’s beautiful His eyes, his hair, the peach of an ass, and he really does wear fine things well. But it’s not just all that. His eye-crinkles, his smile, his voice, his laughter, his tears, his double pats, his energy, his wit, his little teeth, the surly teen-girl face when he’s upset, his thoughtfulness. His unconditional love for Stede Bonnet.

This is a non-definitive list. Please add your own ‘why Ed Teach is lovable’ thoughts 💕

[suzdin]

Neighborly Affairs

Neighbor!Dave x f!reader

Summary: Dave helps you make some daiquiris for the neighborhood cookout

Word Count: 1,149

Warnings/Triggers: 18+ mdni, nipple play, sex in a kitchen, agoraphillia/sex with the risk of being caught, infidelity, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, creampie, possessive marking/branding, cum play, mentions/usage of alcohol

Notes: I apologize to everyone who’s been waiting for updates from me for months now. I haven’t forgotten. My brain fog has been nasty, making it difficult to just be conscious most days, let alone actually think and function. I’m slowly getting better and I’m hoping that by actually writing/posting something, it will motivate me to finish my WIPs.

Sorry if it sucks, but I tried.

Thank you and I love you. 💕

—

His hands are under your bra, tweaking your puckered nipples with the same amount of care as fine tuning an instrument, flattening and rolling the pert buds between the pads of his fingers.

He groans in your ear when you arch against him, his burgeoning erection pressed between your ass cheeks, grinding you in slow, deliberate strokes.

You had volunteered to make a fresh batch of daiquiris for the cookout only a few moments before, with barely enough time to gather the materials before Dave was on top of you like a moth to a flame.

“What if Carol catches us?” you murmur under your breath, your eyes flitting anxiously to the French doors that lead out to the backyard, not even ten paces from where Dave has you pinned against the kitchen island.

“Then she can watch,” he growls in your ear, quickly extricating his right hand from your bra to snake down your torso, slipping into the front of your shorts.

His fingers tease along your slick, puffy folds, making you arch even more, your ass grinding instinctively against him.

“So wet for me already,” he croons, his warm breath ghosting over your skin, “You want me inside you, don’t you?”

Before you can answer, his index and middle fingers circle your engorged clit, touching you in all the ways he knows drives you wild, causing your hips to jerk, and a sound that roughly resembles a yes to escape your lungs.

“That’s what I thought,” he whispers. “Dirty girl, wanting me to fuck her in the neighbor’s kitchen…”

The barriers of clothing between your bodies are swiftly tugged to the side, Dave’s dark gaze shifting briefly to the festivities in the backyard to make sure you’re still in the clear.

He lines himself up with your entrance, coating the head of his cock in your slick before slowly sheathing himself inside of you.

“I should fuck you with others around more often. You’re so fucking tight right now, sweetheart,” he purrs against your skin.

He sinks himself to the hilt, relishing the feel of you for a beat before pulling almost all the way out, proceeded by a fierce snap of the hips, thrusting you against the countertop with such fervor, such tenacity, you nearly topple over the bottle of rum.

He repeats the maneuver several more times before setting a steady, but still hurried, pace, his palm over your mouth, ensuring he’s the only one that gets to hear you like this.

If you could see yourself right now, you would see how fucked out and delirious you are already. Your eyes glistening, a thin layer of sweat prickling your skin.

His opposite hand grasps your hip in a nearly bruising hold, keeping your body flush against his as he continues to drive himself into you, the sounds of skin smacking skin filling the small kitchen.

“So good. So good for me. Like you were made for me, taking my cock like a champ,” he praises, his lips pressed to your ear.

He plants a trail of reverent kisses down your throat, beginning with the soft apex where it joins your neck, slowly making his way down.

He tugs the collar of your shirt aside, exposing the dip in your collarbone, suckling at the delicate skin there until he leaves you branded, covering it with your shirt again once he’s done, a triumphant smirk tugging at his lips.

He abruptly releases his hold on you and pulls out, gripping you by your waist to hoist you onto the counter, pushing into you once again now that you’re at the perfect height and angle.

“Oh, fuck…” you murmur when he sinks into you a second time, biting your bottom lip to prevent yourself from being too loud.

“So pretty when you bite your lip like that,” he praises, holding you in place as he begins railing into you with abandon, his lower jaw jutting forward in a silent, primitive snarl.

You bury your face against his shoulder to muffle the series of lewd noises that begin to escape of their own volition. Yet, much to your surprise, Dave’s fingers almost instantly wrap around the back of your neck, pulling your head up so he can watch you.

“No. You keep your eyes on me. I don’t care if anyone hears,” he grunts, his hand settling on your hip again.

Every stroke into you brushes that soft, spongy patch of nerves at the back of your tunnel, making your toes curl in your shoes, your fingers grabbing at his shoulders for purchase.

“I’m so close, fuck…” you pant, your forehead pressed to his as you will yourself to not look away, your eyes naturally wanting to roll back into your skull.

“That’s right. You come for me. Come all over my cock,” he growls in a low, dark timbre, his breath fanning over your lips.

A few more well placed strokes follow and then you’re seeing stars, a cry emanating from your chest, one that’s too loud for you to be comfortable, so you clamp your own hand over your mouth in an effort assuage any suspicion of what’s currently going on.

Your walls clench and convulse around him, practically choking his cock as you peak, and it isn’t much longer until he follows suit as well, releasing into you with a low, guttural growl, the feel of his seed hitting your g-spot prolonging and intensifying your orgasm.

Your bodies fall limp and listless for a moment as you twitch with the aftershocks of your individual highs, basking in the post coital glow and gradually floating back down to earth.

He eventually pulls out of you, a whine escaping your throat at how empty you suddenly feel. But he soon replaces his length with two thick fingers, swirling your entrance as he catches traces of himself before it can fall, pushing every last drop back in and then licking his fingers clean, relishing the taste of your combined fluids.

“Want you leaking me the rest of the day,” he rasps, placing a gentle kiss to the soft spot just behind your ear. His favorite.

You hurriedly pull your clothes back into place, straightening and composing yourselves just in the nick of time, your neighbor unexpectedly striding into the room.

“Sorry, it took me a minute to find the blender,” you tell them, almost bashful, hoping that your lie holds true, Dave grabbing someone else’s warm, abandoned beer off the counter behind him, acting as though he’s been drinking it this entire time.

When the neighbor eventually wanders back out, Dave discards the beer and places a soft kiss to your lips this time.

“Better hurry up with those daiquiris. People are waiting, you know,” he remarks with a wry smirk, leaving you alone as he rejoins the others, your lingering scent still on his skin and clothes.

[coffeethepuppy]

What would your Y/N (from your Yandere AU) look like as a twisted?

Omg omg omg omg I have so many ideas for how things would go with Twisted Darling! The other twisteds will like- never ever leave your side! Well except for Rodger, RND, and Blot. The ichor has damaged your eyesight so I imagine the roaming twisteds would at least try and help you move around so you don't bump into a wall or anything to cause even more pain to your body. You would probably be as fast as Bobette but wouldn't be able to spot any toons because of your poor eyesight. If you happen to pick up the trace of a toon and chase after them from hearing their footsteps, don't be surprised if another twisted comes running after the toon you're chasing.

Cuddles and affection? Absolutely! The ichor may have fogged up their brain and mind, but it could never stop them from loving you deep in their hearts 💕💞 Holy- I have 50+ requests, I'm trying to get through them all so be patient with me guys :')

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 36: Homeward Bound

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: UConn Huskies Women’s Basketball

Summary: Overwhelmed by life, an unexpected trip home—planned by Paige—brings comfort, clarity, and the warmth of true love.

Welcome to the chapter 36 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

Reader’s POV

Having a few days off should’ve felt like a blessing.

Instead, it felt like a weight.

Between schoolwork piling up, backlogged edits for the team’s social account, and my grandma not answering my calls as often, I’d been walking around in a fog.

My brain refused to stay in one place—constantly ricocheting between upcoming deadlines, what filters to use for a video I was halfway through editing, and the gnawing ache in my chest every time I thought about home.

Paige noticed.

Of course, she did.

She noticed when I picked at my eggs and toast two mornings in a row. When I zoned out mid-conversation. When I kept my AirPods in but wasn’t actually listening to anything. She noticed when my sighs were a little too heavy, and my responses a little too short.

And Paige?

She doesn’t do nothing when she notices something’s wrong.

It started with KK poking her head into Paige’s dorm room after being let in my Jana, “You pack yet?”

I looked up from my laptop, brow furrowed. “Packed for what?”

She shrugged with fake innocence. “For the flight.”

I blinked. “What flight?”

That’s when Paige walked in, holding a perfectly packed duffle bag—my duffle bag.

“Your flight to Georgia,” she said, way too casual, like this wasn’t the most unexpected thing I’d heard all week.

I just stared. “…Huh? Wait when did you get my keys to my dorm?”

She walked over, setting the bag down beside me with that soft little smirk she only ever uses when she’s trying to fix me.

“I grabbed them when you were braiding Jana’s hair. Plus, I know you’ve been worried about your grandma. All while dealing with school and filming basketball. So… you’re going home.”

My throat tightened. “But—”

“Don’t worry about me,” she said quickly, clearly anticipating my protest. “I’ve got a ton of NIL stuff this weekend anyway. You being home will actually help me focus.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, completely caught off guard.

“But—”

“That’s why I’m going with you,” KK cut in, tossing her backpack onto the couch like this had always been the plan.

I turned toward her. “Wait, what?”

Paige nodded. “She’s your official travel buddy. I didn’t want you flying solo.”

KK grinned. “Could be worse, right?”

I blinked again. “When did y’all even plan this?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Paige said, grinning.

My heart was doing somersaults, and I didn’t know if it was from the nerves or the fact that I was so overwhelmingly grateful I didn’t know what to do with it.

“I can’t believe you did this.”

Paige leaned down, brushing her thumb along my jaw with that look she saves just for me. “Believe it.”

I didn’t say anything. I just stood and threw my arms around her.

She hugged me back instantly, arms warm and familiar and safe.

KK, of course, couldn’t let the moment pass.

“Damn. Y’all about to whisper sweet nothings or should I step outside?”

“Shut up, KK.”

The next morning, Paige insisted on driving us to the airport, her hand resting on my thigh the entire ride like she needed to keep me grounded.

At the curb, she helped unload our bags and handed me a little travel bag filled with snacks, gum, and a mini Polaroid picture of the two of us.

It was from the last home game—me with the camera, her with the win, both of us laughing.

“Text me when you land,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I will,” I whispered, heart thudding. “Thank you.”

She leaned in for a kiss—brief but lingering—on my lips, pulling away slowly like she wasn’t quite ready to let go. Then she turned to KK with a pointed look and a raised brow. “You have one job. Protect her peace.”

KK mock-saluted, already falling into the role. “On it, cap’n. Scout’s honor.”

Inside, we barely made it through pre-flight check-in before a group of girls—teenagers, maybe high schoolers—recognized us.

One nudged her friend so hard it nearly knocked her over, eyes wide with recognition.

“That’s them,” she whispered loudly. “From TikTok and UConn. That’s KK… and Paige’s photographer girlfriend!”

I blinked, mid-yawn.

“Y’all mind if we get a quick pic?” another girl asked shyly, clutching her phone like it was a backstage pass. “You guys are like… actual soft sister goals. My little sister watches all your edits.”

KK grinned, already throwing an arm around me. “Come on, y’all. Let’s make it quick before TSA thinks we’re hosting a meet and greet.”

Two of the girls were clearly younger—maybe ten or eleven—and wore matching braids and sparkly backpacks.

One of them looked up at me and whispered, “I wanna be a photographer like you one day. I follow the WBB page and your videos are so cool.”

I felt my heart melt right there.

“Aww,” I said, crouching down to their height for the photo. “You should! The world always needs more girl creators.”

We snapped a few selfies, signed a couple of phone cases and one beat-up Polaroid camera, then waved goodbye as they squealed and practically skipped off toward security.

As KK and I made our way to our gate, she elbowed me lightly. “Look at you. Inspiring the next generation.”

I chuckled. “You’re just mad none of them asked for your autograph first.”

“They did eventually,” KK huffed. “Don’t play me.”

Once we boarded, I slid into the window seat and immediately pulled out my laptop. I had a film assignment due by midnight, plus an edit for the WBB account I needed to queue for the weekend—something light, a ‘best of practice mic’d up moments’ reel.

To my surprise, I found my groove fast.

The white noise of the plane, paired with KK’s occasional commentary on the safety demonstration, made the perfect background.

By the time we hit cruising altitude, I had finalized my assignment and was syncing clips for the Huskies post.

Midway through the flight-thanks to airplane Wi-Fi, I checked my phone and saw we were already tagged in a couple posts—a TikTok from one of the girls and a carousel of photos captioned “Met the coolest duo before our trip!! Thanks KK & Y/N!!”

I smiled, heart warm. I reposted it to my story with the caption: Our lil airport crew. Thanks for the love! and dropped a purple heart emoji for good measure.

KK leaned over and peeked at my phone. “Oh, you’re famous-famous now. Paige better watch her back.”

“She’s got nothing to worry about,” I said with a soft laugh, before looking out the window, heart full from the most unexpected start to this trip.

By the time the plane touched down in Atlanta, I had submitted my project and uploaded a new highlight reel captioned: The Huskies got that dog in them.

KK approved.

KK and I landed in Atlanta just as the sun dipped behind the skyline, bathing the airport in soft, orange light.

The moment we stepped off the plane, that familiar Southern warmth wrapped around us—humid, sticky, but oddly comforting.

It smelled like honeysuckle and jet fuel.

Home.

As we walked toward baggage claim, I spotted her—my mom, standing there in her usual outfit: jeans, a patterned blouse, and her church sandals, like she’d come straight from choir rehearsal.

Her arms were already open.

I didn’t even hesitate. I dropped my duffle and ran right into her hug, burying my face into her shoulder as if I hadn’t needed that hug for weeks.

“Oh baby,” she breathed, holding me so tight I thought she might never let go.

When she pulled back, her eyes went straight to my hand. Her brows raised.

“Oh. Is that what I think it is?”

I knew exactly where she was going. I sighed, already rolling my eyes.

“Ma, don’t—”

She grinned, reaching for my hand. “A promise ring, huh? Paige really got you wrapped around her little basketball finger.”

KK snorted behind me. “She’s down bad, ma’am.”

I turned around to glare at her. “Why are you talking?”

Mom cackled and opened her arms to KK, pulling her in like she was one of her own. “It’s good to see you, baby.”

“You too,” KK said, grinning. “Thanks for letting me crash the family reunion.”

“As long as you eat what I cook, you’re always welcome.”

Honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The next morning, we walked to my grandma’s house—just next door to my childhood home.

She insisted on keeping her independence, but living next door meant we could check on her without her feeling like we were hovering.

She was already outside, sitting on her wraparound porch, her Bible open on her lap and a blanket draped over her legs. Sunlight filtered through the old trees above, dappling her rocking chair and giving her that soft glow that only grandmas seem to have.

When she spotted me, her whole face lit up.

“Well, look who finally decided to visit.”

I practically leapt up the steps and into her arms. “I missed you, Grandma.”

She hugged me back with all her strength. “Missed you too, baby girl.”

We sat together for a while—just catching up, laughing about nothing, talking about the weather like it was breaking news.

She waved off my questions about her health, but I noticed the small tremor in her hand, the little pause before she stood.

It wasn’t urgent. But it was enough.

Enough to make me grateful Paige pushed me to come home.

KK gave us space, posted up on the couch inside with whatever rerun of Living Single was on, but eventually wandered out with her phone in hand.

“Yo,” she called, stepping out onto the porch. “Paige wants to FaceTime.”

I raised a brow. “Already?”

KK grinned. “She’s down bad, bro.”

I sighed like I wasn’t already reaching for the phone. “Gimme that.”

The moment Paige’s face popped up, I felt my whole chest warm.

“Hey, babe,” she said, her voice low and soft. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “Just catching up with Grandma.”

“She hanging in there?”

Before I could answer, Grandma cut in with a smirk.

“She’s fine. Wearing that ring like it’s a badge of honor, though.”

Paige laughed. “As she should.”

KK chimed in. “She’s been showing it off to everybody, even the cashier at Waffle House.”

I groaned. “Y’all are so dramatic.”

“You love it,” Paige teased.

And… yeah. I did.

After leaving Grandma’s house, my mom decided we needed to make a grocery run before dinner.

Which somehow turned into me and KK pushing a half-broken cart through the store while she added random snacks I hadn’t eaten since high school.

“Why do we need three different types of Oreos?” I asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

“In case of emergencies,” she said seriously.

My mom walked ahead of us, flipping through her list on her phone, while KK and I bickered in the snack aisle.

As I turned into the next aisle to grab elbow macaroni, my phone buzzed. Paige.

I picked up immediately, holding it up for a quick view of the cereal section.

“You miss me that bad?” I teased.

Paige’s face popped onto the screen, looking too pretty for someone doing brand work. “Just wanted to see your face. What aisle are you in?”

“Pasta. KK’s being a menace.”

“I’m boosting morale,” KK called.

My mom peeked over my shoulder. “Is that Paige? Hi, baby!”

“Hi, Ma,” Paige said, smiling. “Y’all cooking tonight?”

“Mac and cheese. Real mac and cheese,” she added, giving me a pointed look.

“Don’t start, Ma,” I groaned.

Paige smirked. “Bet KK’s gonna fight you for the first spoon.”

I narrowed my eyes. “She better not.”

Spoiler: she absolutely did.

Later that evening, the smell of baked mac and cheese hit us like a wave the second we stepped into Grandma’s kitchen. Golden crust, bubbling cheese, crispy edges—heaven.

“Back away from the oven,” I warned KK as we hovered nearby.

“I just wanna look, jeez.”

The second Mom pulled it out and set it on the counter, we both lunged.

“Back up,” she said, holding the spoon like a sword. “Y’all can’t both be first.”

So naturally, we settled it the only way mature young adults do.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” I said, cracking my knuckles.

“Best two out of three,” KK shot back.

We squared up. Tension thick. Stakes high.

I threw rock.

She threw paper.

Twice.

“NOOOO,” I groaned, collapsing in defeat as she gleefully dipped into the gooey center.

“One bite!” she crowed, dancing around the kitchen. “That’s all I needed!”

Dinner was loud and warm, just like the best ones always are. We ate on Grandma’s porch under the glow of the porch light, bowls full, laughter louder.

She leaned back, content. “This right here? This is everything.”

And I couldn’t have agreed more.

The next morning, I brought my personal camera with me, determined to document the little moments with Grandma.

She was in good spirits, so we spent the whole morning talking on the porch before wandering out to the fields behind the house.

I took pictures of the old oak tree, of her hands resting gently in her lap, of the way the sun hit her skin just right.

Shortly after I saw the flowers she and I planted the last time I was here-home and I decided to take pictures in and of the fields.

Knowing they would be a distant memory one day.

KK’s POV

Granny was already on the porch when I got there, wrapped in her favorite quilt with two mugs on the table beside her like she knew I was coming. She didn’t even look up when she said, “Come sit.”

I shuffled into the rocking chair next to her and took the mug without asking what was in it. Didn’t matter. If Granny made it, it was good.

“Mornin’, Granny,” I said, stifling a yawn.

“Mornin’, baby,” she said, warm as ever. “Now, y’all can’t be wrestling over mac and cheese like that no more.”

I chuckled, leaning back. “She started it.”

Granny smiled, shaking her head, but there was something quieter behind it.

A knowing softness.

We rocked for a moment in silence before she spoke again.

“She’s been lighter lately,” she said, not looking at me.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“That girl loves hard,” she continued. “But she holds a lot in. You keep her grounded, KK.”

I blinked, a little taken aback. “Me?”

“She talks about you like the little sister she never got to have. You keep her laughing. You keep her steady. Don’t let the spotlight swallow her, you hear?”

I swallowed, throat tightening. “Yes, ma’am,”

Granny finally turned toward me, her eyes sharp and warm all at once. “And don’t let nobody dim your light either, Ms. Girlypop—or however you say it.”

I huffed a small laugh. “Yes, Granny.”

She reached over and patted my knee. “Y’all are good for each other. All kinds of love in the world—don’t gotta be romantic to be real.”

I didn’t say anything else. Just sat there, rocking gently, holding onto the warmth of her words like they were gold.

Y/N’s POV

I came back to the porch and found KK and Grandma mid-laugh.

I lifted my camera and took a quick shot of them before sitting between them on the swing.

My favorite two girlies.

KK threw an arm around me. “Group pic.”

I set the timer, on kk’s phone and it balanced on the porch rail.

With a rock behind it of course.

Later that day, KK posted the photo on Instagram.

my home away from home. 🏠💜

And somehow, those few words said everything I’d been feeling but hadn’t yet found the space to say.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @imnotkaizer , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @iwasbored-okay .... (more to be added)

[her-mortal-projections]

Yours, Forever

A/N: The brain fog lifted long enough for me to further fantasize about lovesick Steve 💕

Also, this isn't too smutty, but my works are still 18+

"How much longer are you gonna keep me waiting, angel?" Steve asks, leaning his head back against the pillow.

His fingers drum along his bare thigh as his eyes stay fixed on the slightly ajar bathroom door, across the room.

"So impatient, Stevie," you scold, with a smile, as you're still hidden from view.

He huffs as he shifts the bedsheets over his lower half, resisting the urge to touch himself. He thinks of how you've teased him all night, with your sultry glances and lingering kisses.

His hand drifts under the sheet as he remembers how you softly moaned his name, against his lips. The slightest whimper then escapes him at the memory of how your fingers felt curled in his hair.

He lets out a dramatic sigh before glancing back to the bathroom door. It's then he sees you standing in its doorway, wearing a sheer, white slip dress.

He instantly sits up as you saunter towards him. 

"I guess I don't have to ask if you like it..." you laugh as you reach the foot of the bed.

You kneel on the mattress and he's already crawling to you. He reaches for you and his hands slide under the dainty fabric to grip your hips. You glance up, into his eyes while draping your arms around his neck. The light from the bedside lamp catches the diamond on your finger as your hand moves, making you smile.

Steve's eyes temporarily leave yours as a knowing smile now forms on his lips.

"Still can't believe you wanna marry me," he quietly admits, nuzzling his nose against yours.

"Why wouldn't I?" You ask, with faux hurt. "You're the man of my dreams, Stevie."

You feel him grinning before he kisses you. It starts off sweet then quickly turns passionate as you're both pulling and clutching at the other. His nose presses against your cheek as he turns his head to deepen the kiss. Your lungs are burning but you refuse to break the kiss, so you settle for tiny gasps for air between fevered kisses.

"And you're the woman of mine, honey," he replies, panting into your mouth before kissing you again. "I love you so fuckin' much..."

His voice trails off as he presses his lips to your cheek. Your mouth falls open, as he kisses his way down your neck.

"I love you, too, Stevie," you sigh, while weaving your hands into his tousled hair.

You slightly pull when you feel him softly nibble at your skin.

He groans at the sensation and you pull a little harder, earning a breathy, "Fuck," that he whispers into your neck.

He then glances up at you, with darkened eyes and kiss swollen lips. His appearance actually makes you gasp, as he's possibly the most lovesick you've ever seen him.

Love and desire consume him completely, more so in this moment than ever before. It almost renders you speechless, except for a sigh of his name.

His lips are on yours in an instant, as his kisses mirror your desperation for him.

He lays you back, against the silky sheets, while his kisses only grow in intensity. His body is pressing yours into the mattress and while it's almost suffocating, you wrap your legs around his waist, wanting him even closer.

He smiles into the kiss, before pulling away slightly. "Y'know, you look good in white. This is kind of like a wedding dress, only...sluttier," he breathes, while tracing his index finger across the tops of your breasts.

"I actually picked it because of that," you reveal. "I was actually saving it to wear on our wedding night, but I couldn't wait."

"Really?" He asks, his excitement growing as you nod.

He leans in again, with his hand now cupping your cheek.

"You're as eager as I am, aren't you, angel?" He asks, his voice dripping with lust.

You nod. "I am. I can't wait to spend the rest of our lives together."

You reach up and tenderly brush his hair behind his ear, as he smiles.

The adoration in your eyes almost brings a tear to his, as he presses his lips to yours for a sweet, slow kiss.

"I can't wait until you're mine, forever," he breathes, against your lips.

He's teasing you with his hips, causing you to whine into his kiss.

"Yours, forever," you reply, breathless.

You hold him close, as your kisses turn needy, messy. That only makes him want you more, as he whimpers your name between kisses.

His hand reaches between you, and he can't help but smile when he feels your arousal coating his fingers and the sheets below.

"Oh, angel," he sighs, as he presses the pads of his fingertips against you, making you softly moan into another kiss.  "You are an absolute dream."

"Steve..." you whine, as your fingers curl around his wrist. "Don't tease, I need you..."

"I think you deserve just a little, honey, since you know I don't like to be kept waiting..." he counters, as you look up at him, dazed and desperate.

"But-"

"Don't worry, angel," he instantly consoles, his voice taking on a familiar saccharine tone. "You're gonna get everything you want, although..." he pauses to glide his finger under the flimsy strap of your dress. "...this may not survive the night..."

[trivia-yandere]

hiiii 💕

since you guys are doing requests, can i request one of the members idolverse {whoever you choose} has a fantasy or kink thats kinda looked down upon but they pay someone {mc lol} to live out the fantasy?

i love your guys works 🥰

hello, yes we can write up something quick, I'm sure!

of course with a little twist

creep

park jimin had it all. he was loved throughout the world as an idol apart of one of the biggest groups. he had the popularity, respect and adoration - and a few haters; but what idol didn’t? what park jimin wasn’t expecting for was infamous blogger, Creep, to be reporting on him. writer: lyse @momnomnom @darkuni63 @sweetempathprunetree

warning: idol! Jimin, dirty talk, r*pe fantasy/consenual-nonconsensual, yandere moments, crying, screaming, fingering, blackmail, impregnation kink, spitting,

The buzzing sounds of phones surrounding Jimin startles him. He offers a soft smile, raising a brow as he feels eyes on him. Murmurs erupt and he’s concerned.

Jimin feels his own phone vibrate and he goes to remove it from his pocket. He unlocks it and is horrified by the words displayed on his screen.

Jimin’s heart beats faster - as if it’s going to explode out of his chest. The sounds of the murmurs surrounding him grows louder - yet he cannot hear a word.

“Please stop!” a cry erupts through the loudspeaker, a woman’s voice. “Please don’t do this Jimin-ssi.”

Oh no. Jimin heart sinks. His eyes weld with tears.

“Shut up.” Jimin’s voice sounds next and now he feels his feet picking up to move - to get away from this; whatever this was. “You’re nothing but a dirty whore who’s going to take what I give her.”

Please stop.

“Jimin-ah, wait!” Jimin knows the voice of his Hyung, but he doesn’t stop moving. Not until he’s running as far as his legs take him until he collapses on the ground in a fit of tears.

Jimin recalls first meeting you - the beauty of a woman you were - so simple yet effective. You weren’t an idol - which was an added bonus. He was well known outside of the K-pop industry and gossip between idols was something he didn’t need. If you were a fan of his, you did a good job at hiding it. You spoke to him as if he wasn’t famous, an act he appreciated.

“It’s normal.” Jimin recalls hearing.

Normal. But was it?

Jimin takes a deep breath and nods his head, palms sweating as he signs the few documents - most of them being NDA’s and contracts. His heart thumps rapidly and his cheeks are slightly flushed with embarrassment.

“Idols do this all the time.” His lawyer assures, giving him a slight nod. “Not everyone has time to date but we all have needs.” Jimin flushes deeper at the words ‘needs’.

Jimin takes a deep breath and nods once more. He understood he wasn’t the only idol who did this - after all he was recommended by his own hyung. But knowing that essentially, he was signing dozens of contracts and NDA’s (as was other woman) and paying a subscription to meet women who are willing to partake in his sexual preferences. If teenage him could see his adult self and understand what he was doing, he would surely laugh. Paying for sex would have never crossed his mind back in those days.

“We have a few matches.” The Lawyer declares, turning the laptop towards Jimin. “I’ll give you privacy since you have no desire in letting me know your…preferences.”

Jimin nods. He takes hold of the laptop and skims the matches - only a few, yet he understands his own kinks are not exactly ideal.

You sit across from him, legs crossed. You were here in the flesh now - not over a screen on the expensive laptop his lawyer showed him. He was nervous while you appeared nonchalant - did you do this often? He wouldn’t ask, it was none of his business what you did outside of him.

“Jimin-ssi.”

Your voice startles him, it’s sweet and low; seductive. It makes his brain fog with a million questions.

“Relax.” You continue, uncrossing your legs. You wore a skirt and Jimin’s mind swirls at the thought of touching your smooth skin - and bruising it beneath his hands.

“Are you thirsty?” Jimin gulps. He turns away from you where you sat at his kitchen island. His hands are trembling when he grabs a glass ready to fill it with whatever. “I have water, juice, wine-“

“Jimin-ssi.”

Jimin yelps when he turns to find you directly in front of him. You place both of your hands upon his chest, eyes glancing up at his. You were good at this - this couldn’t be the first time. Maybe you were a trained actress?

“How do you want me?”

Your words shoot to Jimin’s core. He can smell your scent - a vanilla cashmere that entices his senses.

“I-I don’t-“ Jimin shakes his head.

“I know what you…like.” You smile up at Jimin, innocent eyes shining with mischief. “…How do you want me to act?”

Jimin was never proud of what his sexual fantasies were. It was disgusting - he couldn’t imagine actually acting out his desire with a woman that wasn’t willing. Even now as you stand before him - paid in advance - to act out his desire, he’s unsure if he truly should be doing this.

Jimin flinches when you begin to cry - real tears streaming down your face. You shake your head and push yourself from him. He reaches out for you, grabbing your wrists. “Y/N-ah? What’s wrong?” His eyes are wide.

“Jimin-ah…” you shake your head, tears halting. “I’m fine. Promise.” You giggle. “I’m here to please you. You have a rape-“

“Please don’t say it aloud.” Jiimin gulps - the word itself disgusts him and he wishes nothing more he would be normal and have a foot fetish; it would be easier if so.

“I apologize. I won’t.” You nod, understanding. “I’m here to help you. Remember my safe word?”

“Apple sauce…” Jimin nods, cheeks flushed.

“Right.” You nod. “Anything you do with me is safe. We’re both consenting adults.”

Jimin nods.

“What do you see in Porn? Maybe I can reenact it with you?” you suggest and Jimin is unsure. He never showed his preferred porn to anyone - it was all far too graphic to show anyone.

“I-I don’t-“

You slap Jimin hard across the face. he’s stunned, unsure what to do.

“I’ll never let a man like you touch me.” You seethe, eyes glaring at Jimin. It’s obvious you’re attempting the best you could at getting Jimin to reenact his desires with you - but he wasn’t going to do anything if you didn’t lead.

“You think just because you’re Park Jimin that you deserve me?” You begin to laugh, shaking your head. “You’re pathetic.”

Jimin licks his lips. He touches his cheeks; the stinging feeling feels like a kiss.

“Did I hurt you?” You snicker, tilting your head and puckering your lips mockingly. You turn away from him. “I’m leaving. I can’t believe-“

You yelp when you feel your hair being yanked back. A hand wraps around your neck and squeezes it.

“You’re a bitch.” Jimin hisses.

“Get off of me!” You flare your arms to push at him, but Jimin is stronger - he may appear petite compared to other men, but he’s a man, nonetheless.

Jimin pushes you into the island. Your back hits it and within seconds, his hands are on your legs. So smooth and it causes him to release a low moan. “You came here dressed like a slut for me, didn’t you?” Jimin chuckles, eyes darkening and tone of voice becoming much deeper. “Smelling good tempting me.”

“Get off!” You scream, pushing Jimin away from you but you don’t succeed.

Jimin’s hands find their way to your bare thighs. He rips them apart, index finger swiping between your clothed clit. “You’re dripping.” Jimin laughs. “Whores are always wet.”

Jimin’s eyes catches yours just in time for the tears to fall - it excites him; the frightened look contorted onto your beautiful face, the tears dripping from your terrified eyes.

Jimin yanks your panties down - it’s simple cotton ones that nearly rips with the force. Quickly, he dips his fingers inside of you. You’re tight but dripping wet and his fingers enter without much force.

“Please stop, Jimin-ssi!” You cry out, hands pushing at his shoulders, but you clench around his fingers.

“Your pussy is so wet, bitch.” Jimin chuckles, thrusting two fingers inside of you. “Crying for me to stop but dripping all over my hands!”

Jimin removes his fingers and enters them into his mouth. You gulp - the sight surprises you and arouses you even, but you don’t break character.

“And taste so sweet.” Jimin moans, popping his fingers from his mouth. He enters them again, thrusting even harder. He could hear your moans mixed with your cries and it fuels him to thrust even more.

You cry louder - it was to die down the moans. Jimin was good at this - you note that this couldn’t be his first - or even tenth time - doing this to a woman. He was sexy, he had the look and the experience; he just needed someone (you) to assist in fulfilling his deepest, darkest desires.

Jimin removes his fingers. The number of times he pleasured a woman signals him when you were close to cumming - and he wasn’t here to pleasure you.

“Open your mouth, bitch.” Jimin doesn’t wait for a response before shoving his fingers into your mouth, tips of his finger reaching your throat.

You gag, vision blurring due to the tears. The taste of your juices hits your taste bud, and a gush of wetness is dripping down your thighs.

Jimin removes his fingers from your throat and you instantly cough. He plays with the string of his sweatpants, untying it so he could be a few steps closer to violating you.

Your eyes widen when he easily removes his sweatpants and underwear at the same time, hardened cock springing out. You lick your lips, but the show must go on.

“Please don’t.” You cry out, attempting to hide yourself.

Jimin slaps you - it stings your face just as you were sure it did for him when you had. He continues to slap you a few more times on the same cheek until it’s red and throbbing, your tears burning your cheek when it falls.

Jimin grasps the length of his cock and inches closer to you. He was going to fuck you until you were begging him to stop, but even then he wouldn’t.

You gasp when you felt Jimin’s cock enter you - he has the correct amount of girth to have you stunned.

Jimin cannot stop the deep groan that comes from his throat. He should make sure you’re alright - this was nothing but a fantasy. This wasn’t him. He was a good man; but he doesn’t want to stop. He fucks into you at a rough pace, savage like. The sounds of your sweet pussy gushing for him, mixed with your cries and pleads for him to stop (and the echoes of skin slapping) was music to his ears. No porn he’s ever watched could ever compare to this moment right now.

“Please stop!” You plead - but you don’t want him to. You were doing what he paid you to do, but you clench around his cock. “Please don’t do this Jimin-ssi.”

“Shut up.” Jimin hisses, it prompts him to slap you across your face again; this time him spitting directly on you. “You’re nothing but a dirty whore who’s going to take what I give her.”

Jimin was never one to cum quickly - yet this was a dream come true to him. If he could be here with you all night and violate you, he would.

“I should breed you.” Jimin taunts, voice raspy that it sends you over the edge. You’re creaming around him, but still continue your waterworks.

“No!” You shake your head roughly. You were on birth control - he could cum inside of you if he truly wished. “Please-“

“Get you nice and pregnant like a whore likes.” Jimin’s fingernails dig into your thighs, thrust sloppy. “To show everyone who you belong to.”

“I’m not yours.” You hiss, hands slapping his chest as hard as you could.

“But you are.” Jimin removes his hand from your thigh to squeeze your throat. His thrusts are powerful and he’s cumming - inside of you as you continue to cry. He’s breathing hard, his vision blurring at the sensation; the thought of violating a bitch like you and impregnating her sends him over the edge.

Jimin falls to his knee’s when he shoves the doors open. The cool air greets him, but the soothing feeling doesn’t last long. He releases everything in his stomach onto the ground below him.

“Jimin…”

“Hyung,” Jimin gags, shaking his head. “…go away.”

“What’s going on, Jimin-ah?” Seokjin sounds concerned, startled to see his dongsaeng in such distress that it caused him to vomit. “This blogger Creep….”

“Hyung, please.” Jimin pleads. His head is pounding. His career would surely be over soon - his respect along with it. “I-I can’t.”

Jin swallows. Creep was far worse than any other blogger - they ruined the lives of countless idols for their own entertainment. Authorities don’t appear to care and whoever runs the creep blog had to be loaded - no idol has come close to paying them off.

“Is it true?” Jin murmurs after a few moments of silence. His eyes roam around the quiet street - paparazzi weren’t allowed (by law) in this area, however Creep appeared to be above the law.

“Hyung…”

“I’m not judging you, Jimin-ah. I’ll never do that.” Jin places a hand on Jimin’s back, kneeling down beside him.

Jimin releases a few short sobs but nods his head. He was humiliated - his peers wouldn’t look at him the same. He would go from respected to disgusted and despised - his fetish was looked down upon. It was sickening and the audio proof was more than enough to prove that it was him.

Jimin recalls the first time he was involved with the Blog known as simply Creep.

It was a few months after his first time with you. You and he saw one another every weekend - until it became more frequent. He couldn’t allow himself to be caught in a dating scandal, so you were only ever at his home, yet neither of you cared. You two would fuck disgustingly - him violating you (consensually) while you begged and cried for him to stop - and he never did unless he heard the safe word.

Jimin grew comfortable in his sexual fantasy. It was easier to relieve himself and the pent-up frustration when you were around. You never said the safe word and after it was all done, you and he talked. He assured you were safe while he got into the moment, and you insisted you were - even enjoyed it a great deal. Jimin would offer you food and drinks before you left - sometimes you would stay over. It began when Jimin insisted he would pay you extra to spend the night with him; you insisted he didn’t need to (but he did).

Jimin recalls the way his phone went off nonstop with notifications and waking him up from his nap. He was guilty to following the blog Creep, but he never would have thought he would be the trending topic of it.

Jimin’s heart stops for a mere second, eyes wide. He takes a few deep breaths to process everything. There wasn’t a picture attached to you entering his building - that was a good sign. However, creep was notorious at dropping little hints here and there before the big reveal - and that frightened him. If they knew about you, what else did they know?

As if clockwork, Jimin’s phone sounds again with a call from his lawyer. He answers it and places it upon his ear.

“They don’t know anything.” His lawyer assures, but the tone in his voice isn’t convincing. “Y/N has signed countless contracts and her going against them would be costly.”

Jimin takes a deep breath and nods. He knew it wasn’t you nor did he ever expect you had anything to do with it.

“Creep is nothing but an attention seeker, after all.” His lawyers snicker. “They and countless other blogs have been doing every and anything to get Bangtan involved in a scandal.”

That was true - his hyungs and him were by no means as squeaky clean as the public thought; but they weren’t bad people, either. They deserved privacy like other idols did - most scandals weren’t even scandalous. Idols had sex - if they were consensual what was the problem? Idols dated, they drank, smoked - lived.

Jimin understood that he was told strictly by his Lawyer to not engage; to ignore it. But he couldn’t. By the comments, most didn’t believe the Blogger and that only frightened him into a state of paranoia. If they didn’t believe Creep - then that only meant that Creep would give them something to believe in due time.

Jimin takes a deep breath and opens the email sent to him directly from Creep - the email responding to his own.

Creep: Park Jimin, what a pleasure for you to reach out to me! A big fan of your work if I do say so myself. I frequent your father’s cafe and I would have to say it’s worth the hype! But we’re not here to chit chat, aren’t we? You asked what I knew about your little…situation? You know a Creep like me has eyes and ears everywhere. How about this…I’ll show you a little snippet of my next post!

The attachment sent with the email makes him sick. It detailed everything that went on with you - about his fantasy and how he paid you to relive it with him. How Creep knew was beyond him, but now all Jimin could feel was sadness, confusion and disgust with himself and how he allowed himself to be in this position.

Jimin feels his hands shaking as he reads the text on his phone over and over until it’s permanently scarred into his brain. The notification popping onto his screen breaks the trance he was in - it was from Creep.

Creep: It’s been an hour…

Has it been that long since Jimin had sat and stared at his phone?

Creep: I know Idols such as big as yourself have a reputation to hold up to, so I didn’t release it all. I can make this next post go away for a price.

Jimin gulps. He understood well enough that idols and actors never paid off Creep.

Creep: I don’t want or need your money. But to keep doing what the public loves, how about we trade information? I’ll sweep this under the rug if you give me juicy secrets on the next Idol…actor…political figure. Your choice. You have 3 hours. Tick Tock.

“How do you think this got out?” Jin asks Jimin. They both stood in the restroom now, secluded from everyone else.

Jimin spits out the water he rinsed his mouth with and shakes his head. He’s unsure himself.

“Maybe it was…Y/N?” Jin hesitantly suggests. You were a soft topic for Jimin - especially now.

“She wouldn’t.” Jimin denies. “She’s just as involved in this as I am, Hyung.” Jimin’s hands turn to first. He inhales and exhales slowly, attempting anything to bring his sudden anxiety to ease. “How do you think I got out of this the first time?”

Jin raises a brow.

Jimin glances at himself in the mirror, Jin’s eyes meeting his on.

“You never told me Creep has contacted you before.” Jin signs.

One thing Jimin wasn’t expecting was for you to be outside his door an hour after he received the email from Creep, while he paced back and forth and contemplated what to do, you appeared far too calm. He’s apologized one too many times for getting you involved, not giving you the chance to speak until you interrupted him.

“Creep contacted me.”

“What?” Jimin quip, halting yet another apology. “What did-“

“I had to give them information on someone if I wanted to help you.”

Jimin shakes his head. He didn’t want you involved with his mess. Sure, he had way more to lose than you did, but you were also a human being. You deserved just as much privacy as he did - people's words were vicious and if you were involved in this scandal with him, who knows what you’d have to endure.

Jimin’s phone vibrated once more, and he releases another sign. He checks it, eyes scanning the screen with a puzzled look.

“Y/N…”

“I would rather it be him than you.” You shrug your shoulders. “He doesn’t have much to lose. He’ll recover.”

“Ignore it.” Jin hisses.

Creep had contacted Jimin again via email once Jimin was done recanting the memory with Jin. Jimin’s eyes are staring at his phone, contemplating what he should do. 

“I’ve been ignoring it for months, hyung.” Jimin responds low. “My life is ruined.”

Jin takes a step forward, hand reaching out to support his friend. 

Jimin takes a step back with a shake of his head. “I want to be alone, hyung.” he says to Jin without taking his eyes off of his phone. “Please.”

Jin wants to fight back and refuse. Jimin was a good man with no scandals. One such as big as this would shock the nation, even if it was with a consenting adult. However, Jin doesn’t want to push his friend over the edge and only nods. 

Jimin opens the email sent by Creep and begins to read.

Creep: Ah, Park Jimin. How are you? Rape anyone lately?

Jimin's blood boils at the tone in which Creep is emailing. He’s trembling - with fear? Anger? Possibly a mix of both. He’s trained for years to debut alongside his members. He worked hard for years on end to establish a career in the entertainment business just for it to be wiped away in a matter of seconds.

Jimin: Why did you do this to me?

Jimin awaits for an email in response, constantly refreshing his notifications to see it. When he does, he’s quick to open the email and read.

Creep: Why not? What makes Park Jimin special from gossip? I got tired of sitting on juicy information and now…now your secret is out! To think all you had to do was be a man and save yourself but you’d rather have a woman save you.

Jimin’s throat clenched when Creep mentions you. His life was not the only one ruined in this equation. If word got out who the woman was, it would be a nightmare for you just as it would be for him, as well. 

You lean back into your computer seat and sigh. You wait for Jimin’s email to come and when it does, you cackle.

Jimin: Y/N has nothing to do with this. Leave her out of my mess. I’ll pay whatever you need for me to ensure that she doesn’t get involved with this.

Jimin was sweet. To think that he was willing to pay you - Creep - to make sure that you weren’t involved in this scandal. It’s sad to see the man that everyone admired go down such a path of destruction. However, you’d do anything for a story and Jimin was one that was too good to pass up.

You didn’t need money, you had enough of it. Instead, you enjoyed the torment. Watching these idols, actors and politicians scramble and make public apologies to right their wrongs was like a binge worthy tv show.

Your phone sounds suddenly and you hum when you see the name on it. Jimin was calling you.

You take a deep breath before answering the phone. Instantly, tears form into your eyes and you’re crying onto the phone. 

“I’m so sorry Jimin! I don’t know what’s-”

“I’m not mad at you, Y/N.” Jimin assures. His voice is low and you can tell the man is deep in thought. “I know you had nothing to do with this.”

You want to laugh. 

“I…I’m going to do anything in my power to make sure your name doesn’t get released to the public, alright?”

“Jimin…”

“This is my mess. I’ll get myself out of it.” Jimin sighs. “I’ll talk to you in a bit, okay?”

When Jimin hangs up the phone, you slam it onto your desk and groan. Why did Jimin have to be such a good guy - it only made you want him more.

“I’m sure I can ruin someone else's life and make the people forget about Jimin for now.” you hum, opening folders on your desktop with a small smile placed onto your lips.

[eoieopda]

GET TO KNOW ME 🧍🏻‍♀️

i was tagged by my shrimpie @sailorsoons

WHAT'S THE ORIGIN OF YOUR BLOG TITLE?

it’s the romanization of one of my favorite korean words (esp. of those that don’t directly translate to english)! i think it fits — i experience a lot of things that are almost too absurd to believe.

FAVORITE FANDOMS?

at this point, i exist solely in the k-pop sphere. if i have to get specific, i’ll say that i have the most fun (and witness the least drama) in svt/caratblr.

MORE UNDER THE CUT

OTP(s)/SHIPNAME?

i’m not a shipper shipper, but my fave dynamics are soonhoon (svt), yoonjin (bts), and topaz (ateez).

FAVORITE COLOR?

i’m mostly a monochromatic bitch, so my primary/basic answer is black. i do fuck heavily with teal and really earthy colors, though.

FAVORITE GAME?

fallout 4, skyrim, cyberpunk 2077, and any pokemon game are all tied for first. honorable mention: spiritfarer.

SONG STUCK IN YOUR HEAD?

it’s not a song, but the audio that is truly LOOPING in my head is sabres’ goalie, ukko-pekka luukkonen, saying his own name, lmao. beyond that, it’s nausea by jeff rosenstock.

WEIRDEST HABIT/TRAIT?

i’m not sure which is my “weirdest”, but i often do this thing where i subconsciously make extremely old/niche pop culture references while drunk — when the thing i’m quoting/referencing isn’t something i’ve seen, heard, or thought about in 10+ years. (it’s a metaphor, @jihopesjoint)

HOBBIES?

writing, gaming, watching hockey + soccer, playing bass, yearning, watching gose, knitting, and running (when it’s not snowy/shitty, which is rare where i live).

IF YOU WORK, WHAT IS YOUR PROFESSION?

i’m an attorney. specifically, i prosecute (exclusively) cases of child abuse and neglect.

IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY JOB YOU WISH, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

i’d choose my current job in any timeline, but if i couldn’t, i’d want to be a mortician + funeral director. i think i’m incapable of doing things that aren’t morbid and heavy (??). alternatively, i want to travel around in a van and seek out ghosts, scooby-doo style.

SOMETHING YOU'RE GOOD AT?

if we’re talking “practical” skills, crafting/delivering/winning arguments, lol. i’m otherwise really good at figuring out plot points/twists really early and ruining the fun/suspense for myself (ask @jihopesjoint and @sailorsoons 💀)

SOMETHING YOU'RE BAD AT?

is “having a body” a sufficient answer? executive function in general, maintaining any semblance of a work/life balance, avoiding burnout, and commitment 😌

SOMETHING YOU LOVE?

my cats, the gays in my phone, and kwon hoshi 💕

SOMETHING YOU COULD TALK ABOUT FOR HOURS OFF THE CUFF?

^ anything up there

SOMETHING YOU HATE?

if i keep this really simple: birds. they scare the shit out of me.

SOMETHING YOU COLLECT?

this is embarrassing, but whenever i finish a legal pad, i keep the lil cardboard husk. i have a giant stack of them on the bookshelf in my office. it reminds me of how much i’ve accomplished, even when it doesn’t feel like i have.

SOMETHING YOU FORGET?

everything, all the time. my short- and long-term memory are both hazy as fuck because of my adhd, fibro fog, insomnia, and c-ptsd. absolutely nothing sticks for long in this swiss cheese brain of mine, lmao.

WHAT'S YOUR LOVE LANGUAGE?

physical touch and acts of service.

FAVORITE MOVIE/SHOW?

movie: the princess bride but also maybe inglorious basterds show: the devil judge

FAVORITE FOOD?

i feel like i’ll let several people down if i don’t say crab rangoon 💀 tbh, i don’t super care about food, but i do super care about diet dr. pepper.

FAVORITE ANIMAL?

raccoons!

ARE YOU MUSICAL?

yep! both of my parents are musicians/vocalists/music teachers, so it’s a “thing” in my family that you play multiple instruments, etc.

WHAT WERE YOU LIKE AS A CHILD?

honestly….. just the less-evolved version of my current self. i’ve always been extroverted, outgoing, chaotically friendly, etc.

FAVORITE SUBJECT AT SCHOOL?

sociology, history, and languages!

LEAST FAVORITE SUBJECT?

math. i’ve never been good at it, and it’s always made me feel stupid.

WHAT'S YOUR BEST CHARACTER TRAIT?

my capacity to care about many, many things very, very deeply.

WHAT'S YOUR WORST CHARACTER TRAIT?

that ^; my self-worth is handcuffed to my (own perception of my) productivity + very fucked-up/unattainable self-imposed standard of what is “good enough; and i have a habit of intellectualizing my feelings instead of actually allowing myself to feel them.

IF YOU COULD CHANGE ANY DETAIL OF YOUR DAY RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

i would make myself be adequately hydrated. could i still change that? yes. will i? ehhhhhhhh….

IF YOU COULD TRAVEL IN TIME, WHO WOULD YOU LIKE TO MEET?

maybe my birth mom? idk.

REC YOUR FAVE FANFICS (SPREAD THE LOVE):

the iron ring by @sailoryooons, a word from our sponsors by @100vern, a series not yet finished/posted by @daechwitatamic, don’t sweat it by @miraclewoozi (i miss u) + anything else tagged here.

TAG OTHERS TO COMPLETE (NO PRESSURE): @miniseokminnies @seungkw1 @cherrrywon + anyone who wants to do this and hasn’t yet!

[honied-bumblebee]

Lemon Peppermint Tea 🍋🌱

This is a recipe for a cold infusion tea for mental clarity. 💕

As someone who struggles with extreme brain fog drinking this in the mornings helps me shake the fog for at least a little while.

Ingredients

🍋 Desired amount of cold water (can use sun water for energy)

🌱 2-3 or even 4 peppermint tea bags (I like mine stronger) (mental clarity)

🍋 Lemon juice to taste (energy)

🌱 Sugar (opt) (sweetness, self love)

Directions

🍋 Place sun water (or regular water) into whatever cup or glass you want.

🌱 Add in the tea bags, lemon juice, and sugar if you want

🍋 Cover with lid or tin foil or plastic wrap (whatever you have really) and place either in the sun for a few hours to infuse or in the fridge overnight to drink in the morning.

(You can place energizing and clarifying crystals around your cup or glass if in a safe space to do so)

[supernotnatural2005]

I'm really torn between WW2 Dean and Plus Sized Reader, but I think I'm gonna go with WW2 Dean fic because that is so rarely done and I want to know what you're thinking to even make it a series!!!

It is currently untitled, but it will be set in WW2. So far i have about a chapter finished.

Giving you a brief summary, it’s set toward the end of the war. The reader is a nurse on the frontline tending to the injured soldiers. She had studied medicine before/during the start of it back home and enlisted to help.

She doesn’t have a husband or guy to go home to, her love life hadn’t been the most exciting.

Until an injured soldier is brought in one night, Dean.

It’s going to be a love story, but it will be nitty gritty, angsty as it’s war. But so far it’s a special one 🥹 Here is a little snippet of them meeting, Dean is going to be a menace 😉

Dean let out a short breath, like he might argue, but then he stilled. His jaw tensed, and you saw the flash of panic in his face before he even spoke. "Cas?"

"He's okay," you assured him quickly. "He’s got a pretty bad concussion, a few cuts and scrapes, but he’s going to be fine. Lucky he had you."

Dean exhaled, tension draining from his features as relief washed over him. "Good," he muttered. "Damn idiot always rushes in."

A ghost of a smile tugged at your lips. Even through the haze of pain, he was worried about his friend first. You had seen that kind of loyalty before—rare and unyielding.

Dean let out a slow breath, finally blinking up at you properly, his gaze clearing as he focused. And then, despite the trauma, the blood loss, and the god-awful situation he was in, he smirked.

"You sure I haven’t died, doll?" His voice was rough but laced with something teasing, familiar. "Because I’m pretty sure I’m looking at an angel."

You blinked, caught off guard by the line. A cheap one, for sure, but the way he said it—soft, playful, yet entirely sincere—made warmth rise to your cheeks before you could stop it.

You huffed out a quiet chuckle, shaking your head. "That head wound must be worse than I thought."

I hope that's answered your question and you're excited for this one? It may be a little while as I want to finish up some requests I've got, including yours, (I've just had a bit of brain fog atm) but then I'll be working on more WIP's 💕