#and yes the fic was being worked on for a while :)

[s0lifuge]

i remember this era as well, this is how tumblr was until i left fandom generally (so tumblr, ao3, etc) for about 7 years. now that i'm back, and i've had a lot of crazy sex in the intervening time, i have a lot of thoughts about this dynamic in regards to edgeplay.

i think in the fanfiction world, edgeplay is something that you really negotiate, work up to, have great aftercare with, and the absence of these things gets works labelled as dubcon or noncon by the reader or author. it's seen as starting at the most vanilla side of sex and moving towards the edge, but never crossing it, like this:

in my experience of real edgeplay and real edgeplayers, this is just not the model that people who end up invested in this kind of sexual lifestyle follow. sure, i've met some people who meticulously plan scenes, but the vast majority of edgeplay that i've engaged in has been, well, risky in one way or another. it's not safe sane consensual, that's the point. sometimes it does cross a boundary, because these things are fuzzy and hard to understand when you're already delving into fucked up weird sex. i think it's a lot more like this:

where you're not playing just BEFORE the edge of what's acceptable, but rather like, bouncing around your limit of tolerance, in and out, for the sake of the psychological experience of that. i think that's what characterizes edgeplay, is that extreme psychological experience of overwhelm, pleasure, regret, ecstasy, humiliation, thrill, etc. that accompanies engaging in high risk BDSM. it's, in my opinion, what all other BDSM is trying to evoke through less risky means. this is a mission i love and respect, but for some people (perhaps like your fave), it's not close enough. some people want to be pushed over the edge, some people are fine risking trauma to get their rocks off. it's not porn bullshit, it's human nature for many people, especially ones that have complicated or traumatic relationships to sex.

i think when tumblr fanfic culture shames people for writing fics that portray this kind of sex without being entrenched in civilitypilled BDSM 101 etiquette, we're throwing people under the bus for something that is a real and relatively normative part of human sexuality. I have met more edgeplayers (though they wouldn't know that language or call themselves that) off normie hookup apps than fetlife - it's not that weird to be a total freak!! if two (or three, or six, or 101) consenting adults want to fuck like they hate one another, in real life or in fic, and are aware that there are risks involved with that and do it anyway, it's not hurting you. yes, it might end up hurting them, but that's a risk we take when we enjoy extreme things, just like many sports!

and while i understand the idea that sometimes people learn about new degrees of depravity through smut (be it videos, text, photos, gifs, whatever), i don't think it's on the creators of pornography to create instruction manuals for good sex. erotic art of all kinds can be inspiring for one's own sex life, but it's up to the individual to implement these things healthily in their own sex life. for some people, some kinds of kink can never be healthy, and that's okay. personally, i think if i had a "vanilla" sex life, i would be very unhealthy mentally. i would have to suppress a very fundamental part of my sexual identity to achieve that. the same things are not unhealthy for everyone at every point along their sexual journeys. yfm??

idk, just my two cents, if you like the sound of this understanding of edgeplay check out my ao3 @ solifuge, thanks to the op for getting me thinking so hard about being a pervert

I think 50 shades of grey did so much damage to BDSM writing in fic and like not because I think fic writers were taking inspiration from it, but we did get a lot of detailed explanatory posts about all the different ways in which those guys were Doing It Wrong, which is not in and of itself a bad thing but since then everybody got so hung up on making sure everybody in their fics was nothing like 50 shades of grey and actually demonstrates that yes I do understand the principles of safe sane and consensual and the traffic light system and safewording and aftercare and checking in that now everybody fucks like a 101 handbook and I think we've only just recently started to recover from it. love me a dynamic where it's two repressed freak idiots who accidentally invent BDSM all on their own and have to come up with the strangest most deeply harmful ways of navigating that situation

[bumblebecc]

humbly asking for a one shot or fic where kingdon are still yearning and pining after each other. he gets something on his scrubs and has to immediately take his scrub top off in the /hot/ man way and mel is trying not to be awkward while everyone else messes with him for being a built ER ken that’s showing off. they make eye contact and both turn RED AND SHY UGH.

u are a genius

—

Langdon is very vascular, Mel notices.

And Mel notices not because she’s staring, but because she’s observant. Her college advisor in her freshman year told her so. That’s the reason she has a hard time looking away from the veins sloping down Langdon’s lean arms as he handles the patient. Not because his arms are nice to look at.

Definitely not.

She also definitely has never stared at his fingers—long, fine, with neat and clean short nails—stirring a bowl of cake batter in her apartment before.

(“It’s belated birthday cake,” he told her sternly. “I can’t believe you let me miss your birthday.”)

(She generously allowed him and Becca to sing to her and light a candle for her to blow out.)

(The cake was surprisingly good. Pistachio, with rose flavored icing.)

Maybe she is staring.

Maybe she did stare at him, hunched over a chess board in her apartment, brow furrowed, swearing under his breath.

Maybe she did stare in the light of the morning after a long night shift, the sunrise turning his hair a red-hued chestnut in the park.

But that was different. That wasn’t on the clock.

So she shakes her head, adjusts her glasses precariously balanced on her nose because she does need to pay attention to the procedure. Where Langdon cuts with the scalpel, incredibly steady between his gloved forefinger and thumb. The low thrum of his voice as he instructs Yoon, one of the new med students at PTMC, on lancing an infected earlobe piercing turned internal abcess.

“Never, ever cut here, here, or here. Okay? You want to focus in this general region. Good. You got this. Let me see your game face.”

Yoon makes a very offputting grimace. Mel winces in sympathy. The patient looks vaguely petrified.

“We’ll work on that later.” Langdon shakes his head. “Miss Abimbola? Are you still comfortable with student doctor Yoon doing the procedure?”

“Sure,” says Miss Abimbola—or “Call me Lola!”—says.

“Say the word,” says Langdon and Lola looks a little more at ease when he steps back and Yoon steps up.

Langdon is good with students. With patients. Different from a year and a half ago, when he was still married, when he left for an “undisclosed reason”.

Drugs. Everyone knew it was drugs.

The rumor ran like wildfire through the RN and respiratory therapist circles. So the whole hospital knew by that following Friday. Nothing malicious. Every word delivered in low voices of concern. His poor family, his poor wife, poor him. Oddly enough, the ECMO perfusionist team got together to send him a get well card. Mel saw it once, taped to his fridge in his shabby townhouse.

But now he’s back and, at least with Mel, it’s a little bit like he never left. Well. Things did change a TINY bit. Mel is a PGY-3 now. More confident. And Frank is softer at the edges. Still snarky. But he listens more. Even Robby comments on it.

And they’re not really student and teacher anymore. More that, after his first shift back, he asked her to get coffee, bouncing on his two feet. And she said yes.

And now: they’re friends.

And friends don’t stare at each other’s arms and wonder what it would be like for said arms to hold her in bed, under the covers, in a restaurant—

Mel swallows and refocuses. Because Yoon is holding the scalpel and Lola is tilting her head back at Langdon’s direction.

And it’s Langdon, not Frank, at least at work.

“Steady, steady. Okay, good.” A smile, curving one edge of Langdon’s mouth higher than the other. “Hey, look at that. You might even be a doctor.”

Mel snickers despite herself and then clears her throat. “Excellent work, Dr. Yoon.”

Langdon grins at her. Unspoken: I heard you laughing. I made you laugh.

She knows she likes him. Likes him more than a friend. She knew it when she saw her name spelled out in messy pink buttercream on the cake he made her painstakingly, knew it when he first came back that insane Fourth of July and they locked eyes, bewildered, in the parking lot and the only thing they could think to do was hug, awkwardly, in greeting.

She thinks he knows it too sometimes. When they sit in the break room side by side. Or in the quiet moments where their eyes linger on each other for just a moment too long amid the chaos of the ER.

But she also might be imagining things. Like in high school, when she thought Matthew Lassiter was making flirty eyes at her in English class, but really he was just looking at the board.

“Okay, Mel. Want to take Yoon over here to South 15? There’s a degloved finger with your name on it.”

Mel bobs her head in agreement as she disposes of her gloves and slaps around some hand sanitizer. “Will do. Yoon, follow me.”

As they walk away, Yoon, a short-ish young man with carefully combed black hair and very sharp cheekbones, sighs with relief. “Langdon’s kind of intense, huh?”

Mel smiles a little. “Not really. You just have to get used to him, I think. He has a lot of energy.”

“I can see that. He’s a good teacher at least.” Yoon takes a deep breath. “So. Degloved finger?”

“Oh, yeah, we see a lot of those. Kids figure out slamming doors makes a funny loud sound and it also irritates their parents.”

Yoon winces. “Treatment plan?”

“You tell me!” Mel smiles. She’s busy advising Yoon and adjusting eight-year-old Brandon’s pain medication, so she misses out on what happens in the next few minutes. A man standing on a shaky gurney and making a long winded speech, despite Mohan’s panicked protests. In front of the entire emergency department, the man pronounces that privatized healthcare is a burden on the American people. (Santos tells Mel all this later over drinks in a mocking voice and big arm gestures.) Which, you know what, yay! Mel agrees wholeheartedly.

Not so yay: She catches the tail end of the kerfuffle when she walks into Central with Yoon. A strange white man, young and ruddy-faced, on a gurney, splashing a mysterious red liquid from a can all over Frank Langdon, yelling “Down with private healthcare! Down with private healthcare!” in a big booming voice.

The whole world freezes. Patients stare, nurses start screaming, someone dives to the ground, crying out, “He’s armed!” (he definitely isn’t) and a wave of panic ripples through the room. Finally, a security guard—Ahmad, Mel recognizes—runs through the fray, picking up the disgruntled attacker by the waist and hauling him off screaming explicit language, the can clanging on the ground. But Mel is already moving before anyone else, makes a beeline to where Frank is stopped, hands up, dripping red everywhere, looking all the world like this is a very mild annoyance, eyebrows scrunched up with irritation.

“Unknown liquid, Frank, unknown liquid!” Mel calls out to him, heart lurching.

And Frank, understanding immediately what she’s saying, says, “God fucking dammit!” and in a quick, decisive, practiced move, pulls off his scrub top and undershirt. But, Mel thinks in an alarmingly badly timed thought, that it’s a very attractive kind of undressing—he does it the way all boys kind of do, reaching behind his head with a long reach and tugging on his shirt collar and—

Chest hair, thinks Mel faintly. Thicker on his chest, a dark line of it narrowing down his belly below his low-slung scrub pants, faint musculature peeking out, and Mel is flushing, bright red, the way she does when she’s embarrassed—and this is so not the moment, Melissa.

“Mel,” says Frank, making eye contact with her, intensely the way he always does, just as Whitaker of all people bolts over.

“Decon shower!” he says rapidly. He’s clapping his hands together like it’s showtime. “Decon shower, right now!”

And Mel remembers the safety protocols outlined during her first week working at the Pitt and groans at the same time as Frank does. “It’s probably just paint guys, give me a break—”

Myrna of all people breaks the tension by whistling. “Now this is what I’m talkin’ about!”

“Okay, decon shower it is,” says Frank and allows himself to be herded by Mel and Whitaker to the decontamination pod. Well, it’s basically a shower head by the ambulance bay with a creaky curtain around it for the semblance of privacy. Not for the first time, Mel resents how Dermatology gets a state-of-the-art ultra shiny new lobby with real flowers delivered every morning and the ER gets bupkis, as Robby would say. Mel tugs the rickety curtain rod closed just as Frank hooks his thumbs in his scrubs’ waistband begins taking off his pants!! and there’s a collective sigh through the nurse population—male and female—that makes Mel both resentful and embarrassed, because she gets it. But also—where are people’s manners?

“Shoo,” Mel tells a bug-eyed med student. Laura? Luna? She can’t remember. “Tell Ahmad to call the cops. Or find Santos. She’ll know what to do.”

The med student nods and hurries away, looking scalded.

The shower squeaks on with a shudder and a hard blast of water.

“Jesus, too hot!” comes Frank’s voice.

Whitaker winces and waves his hands until the crowd begins to thin and the ER tentatively judders back to life. “C’mon people, this isn’t a show. There’s no gun. Look alive.”

“That asshole still here?” Frank’s voice floats out behind the curtain. Mel is trying very hard not to imagine him naked and wet and gleaming behind the curtain. It’s very hard.

“Um yes,” says Mel. “But probably not for long. The cops from earlier are back. They don’t look very happy.”

A mean-spirited snort. “Yeah, now they have to do actual work. Lazy fucks.”

Mel admires Langdon’s derision for cops. It is a very passionate pastime for him.

Yoon approaches tentatively. He’s holding the can used to vandalize Langdon. When she looks at it, Mel thinks she sees the Home Depot logo. “Dr. Langdon? So, it looks like the guy just tossed a bunch of storebrand paint on you.”

“I could’ve told you that,” says Langdon grumpily.

Ahmad has been joined by Angel and Francisco in front of Behavioral Health. She doubts the culprit will stay with them, even for a Psych eval. He doesn’t appear deluded or manic or in psychosis, just generally pissed off. The two cops who’d dropped by for a domestic incident are resentfully talking to them. He’ll probably end up dragged out of here in handcuffs, thinks Mel.

“Dennis, can you go to Langdon’s locker and see if he has any extra clothing?” Mel asks Whitaker.

“Dennis?” comes Frank’s voice, incredulous. “Who the fuck is Dennis?”

Everyone ignores him, even Whitaker. “Yeah, sure. Dr. Langdon, what’s the combo?”

“0524,” says Mel. She knows because Langdon told her once when she’d lost a hair tie and she’d been too grateful to wonder why he had them in his locker in the first place.

“Gotcha. Be right back.”

“Whitaker moves fast,” Yoon observes.

“He runs most mornings,” says Mel. Her heart is calming down a little. Frank isn’t having a reaction or anything to whatever it was that was thrown on him, so. That’s good.

Robby comes over, to her horror. She hadn’t seen him at all during the incident. “Hey, what the fuck happened?”

“Disgruntled patient threw paint on Frank,” says Mel. “Probably paint. Hopefully paint.”

“Christ,” says Robby. “Alright, how you doing in there?”

“Very wet,” comes Frank’s voice resentfully. “Would be less wet if this didn’t happen. I didn’t exactly have this on my To Do list, Robby.”

“Yeah, you and me both,” sighs Robby, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes screwed shut in distress. “So, the cops are arresting him. You do have the option to press charges here—I know how you feel about these things, Frank, don’t jump down my throat. The hospital’s lawyer can hand over your statement, no problem.”

“Maybe. I’ll think about it. Once I’m not in water jail.”

“Alright,” says Robby, and then, to Mel, “Keep me updated?” before he heads back into the general chaos of the ED.

“I want to kill someone,” says Langdon very seriously.

“I’ll go get him… something,” says Yoon and promptly disappears just as Whitaker pops up holding a dark bundle of clothes and a towel.

“Good news, Langdon, you had extra underwear and sweatpants in your locker. Bad news, no luck on a shirt.”

“Whatever,” says Frank and a wet hand snatches the stuff from Dennis and the water shudders off and then all of a sudden he’s emerging, shirtless, sweats slung low over his hips. He’s ruffling his hair with the towel, arms raised and flexed, a droplet of water streaming down his chest, dark and furry—

A shrill whistle makes Mel remember where she is. At work. With her coworkers. And she can’t just goggle at her friend.

“Well, well, well,” smirks Santos, arms crossed. “If it isn’t the drama queen himself.”

“Santos,” says Langdon with heavy distaste, peeking out from his towel. His chest swells with a deep sigh of exasperation and Mel has to remember to inhale, exhale. Usually a very easy thing for her to do. Very hard right now. “Don’t you have a surgical resident to bother?”

“You know what, you deserve all the activist paint in the world, actually,” says Santos with a scoff. “I don’t feel bad for you at all. Where’s the guy at, I wanna shake his hand—”

“Play nice, everyone,” says Mel faintly, assuming her role as moderator almost automatically.

Frank looks unashamed. Santos remains unrepentant.

“Ugh, can you put the pecs away at least?” Santos grumbles.

“Can you get me a spare scrub top from the dispenser?” he challenges.

“For you?” Santos places her hand over her chest sweetly. “Never.”

“I think we’ve had enough of a show,” says Dana, an actual angel, swooping in and shooing away Whitaker and Santos and the lingering crowd of medical assistants and RNs, who all seem more amused than anything, and Mel would go too, except Dana is making a gesture for her to stay. “Mel, be a doll and check on Langdon’s patients for me? I’ll get him a shirt and get him back to you ASAP, safe and sound.”

Mel doesn’t know why but she goes very red at this and as she glances over at Langdon, the hard shape of his shoulders, she thinks that the sheepish, pink expression on his face matches hers, or so she imagines.

“I won’t keep him for long, I promise,” says Dana, sounding far too delighted for the circumstances.

“O-okay,” says Mel, and before she scurries away, she tells Frank, a little stumbling, “I’m glad you’re okay, Dr. Langdon!”

She doesn’t know where to look. His rumpled hair, his bright eyes, the curl of his smile. “Ah, it’s no biggie. Rather it be me than you, anyways.”

Mel swallows a little. “Well. Try not to get paint on you again?”

He takes a step forward. The hair on the back of her neck stands up when he reaches out and offers her his pinky. (The way he always does when she asks if he promises he’ll watch a movie with her, if they can go to the park on Friday and so forth). “I swear.”

She twines her pinky with his, looks up into his smiling face, and then does a run for hills before he can trap her with his big warm gaze.

“What a day,” says Yoon when he finds her slumped in the breakroom.

“Tell me about it,” says Mel, pretty sure she’ll be blushing forever. “Tell me about it.”

[cheeseceli]

Their celebrity crush

Pairing: ot7!BTS × gn!reader

Genre: headcanons, fluff

Request: Could you write one where Ot7 are dating their celebrity crushes?

Warnings: they are idols, mentions of fans and rumours, mentions of Hybe (?), jungkook's reader has been working for longer than him

A/n: I have another version of this, one way more delulu and cringe, but I couldn't find it so here we go | daily click

Jin

I believe he would want to keep the relationship private in most scenarios

That's not one of them though

Everyone and their mothers are going to know about this

First, everybody already knew you were his crush

Bro has no filter

He probably said it with all the words

So once you guys actually date

Man, he's not gonna shut up

Obviously he wouldn't do anything of that if you're not comfortable with it

But in the end he's just a fan

Yoongi

Oh he's so cocky about this

100% bragging about it every time

I don't see him as someone who has a lot of celebrity crushes

You'd be like one of the few

Maybe even the only one

So he only had one chance and STILL managed to date you?

Goat

You're also never knowing that lmao

Yes, he'll brag about dating you but you'll never know he was your biggest fanboy ever

And as he already assumed to write fanfics when younger

Imagine him reading fics about you before dating you 😭

J-hope

I am a firm believer of social butterfly hobi

Meaning he knows everyone

Including you

Even if you are or aren't from the same industry

What matters is that he knows you

And he tries to keep it cool and pretend everything's fine

Because he finally managed to talk to you

He doesn't want to scare you off

But

Rumours go that he is your celebrity crush

Since feelings are mutual

Who is he to lose a chance like this

Right?

Namjoon

Bro really really really is tryna keep it shut

Like he's doing his best to not open Vlive right now and just say

"yo, guess who's dating y/n"

And he's 100% aware that this is a horrible move

But he wants to do it nevertheless

Honestly, at this point he's hoping that you will slip up so he can finally bring it up

But fans already know something is up

I mean

It's kinda hard not to when he is so obviously in love in his songs

And oh, is that a a very clear reference to you in his lyrics?

Jimin

This would definitely start the wrong way lmao

The ever so friendly and flirtatious Park Jimin is going viral for... not liking you

Or at least that's what netizens think

The truth is that Jimin and you get to be special MCs for a program for once

And you see, he's used to being people's crush

Now he is the one having a crush

In order to avoid being obvious about it and making rumours up, he tries to avoid you overall

And now people think he hates you

Let me tell you that he PANICS when he finds this rumour out

So imagine when his apologies to you work and, after a while, you're dating

The shock the internet (and him) would feel

Taehyung

He's literally the opposite of Namjoon

Namjoon is trying his best to not spill the tea

Taehyung is trying to spill it without people noticing

At this point he thinks of it as a game

Let's see how close to insanity he can bring the dispatch staff

Seriously though, he just admires you so much

And he's so proud of you

It's not fair to expect him to not overflow with love

If he sees the green light coming form you, better believe he will make Hybe do some damage control

Jungkook

This one was funny

You were his crush before he was too famous

So he was like

"Imagine if we were famous and I met Y/n?"

A boy can only dream, right?

Except he didn't dream, he manifested

Then one day BTS becomes famous

He becomes famous

And the next thing you know is that Jungkook is finally talking to you

And you better bet that he's shooting his shot when he finally gets to see you

Masterlist | you'll probably like: I'm not letting go

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @butnotmontana @sheraayasherrecs @queenofdumbfuckery @lezleeferguson-120

Dividers by @cursed-carmine | images 1, 2 and 3

[linklethehistorian]

Okay fine. I’m not usually one of those “notes things” creators myself, but since peer pressure and a sense of deep obligation to keeping my word is probably the only thing that’s going to work at this point…

Notes Thing™️ to Finally Bully Myself into Talking About My Ship*

*Except I’m sitting like a deer in the headlights while typing this up, so the required note count will be probably unreasonably high. Sorry. I feel like it’s the only way I’ll get myself to take the situation seriously.

Rules:

Maximum of 10 notes per blog (including reblog, comments, and likes)

Using side blogs to further boost the note count is permitted, but I ask that any given user not exceed 20 notes total. Obviously I can’t tell if a given blog is your side blog or not so we’re going off the honor system here.

Yes, Systems will have their individual members recognized as separate people rather than counting them by their physical body. I see you and I love you. 💖 You can break the 10 notes per blog rules if multiple of you want to participate because you’re separate people.

Please be nice to me; this is my first time doing this sort of thing and I am scared. Also no ship shaming. Obviously.

Note Milestones:

20 notes: I will post something relating to the ship. I don’t know what yet. It might be vague. It might not even reveal who the characters are. It might be a reveal of one of the characters but not the other. I don’t know. But it’ll be something. (Promise fulfilled. Link [here].)

35 notes: It’s a crossover ship, so I will reveal the fandoms involved and the characters in question. Maybe the ship name. We’ll see how bold I’m feeling. (Wow. Okay. Bear with me and I’ll make the posts and link the links after some sleep. You guys are really fast. 0-o)

50 notes: I will post one of the pieces of fanart I’ve made for the ship. No context. (Link TBD)

60 notes: I will reblog the pitch I once made about them from an obscure side blog. (Link TBD)

70 notes: I will talk about my Slay the Princess-themed AU for them. Maybe post some art. (Link TBD)

90 notes: I will post a snippet or excerpt of the oneshot fic I’m working on. (Link TBD)

100 notes: Idk p much everything is fair game at this point. I’ll stop being a coward and just talk openly about this stuff. (Link TBD)

120 notes: Maybe I’ll write a multi-chapter fic…? (Link TBD)

150 notes: Ultra secret surprise option.

I’ll cross off this list as we go along and update it with links included, so if you want to see if the reblog you’re finding this through is up to date, click [here].

I really don’t expect this to get much of any notes since there’s no reason for most people to be invested in this (which is lowkey the point, as feeling like this won’t happen is the only way I can get myself to do this), but yeah. I guess we’ll see where it goes.

[dayasfilms]

You’re my fave type of writer, you just keep GIVING!!!

Can I please request a one shot where Yasmin has to go away for the weekend for work and before she leaves she’s like “Steve will be here, yes?” because of her daughter and her bf will jump at the chance of an empty house. And Star is like we’ll be doesn’t have to be…? But Yasmin just sighs and is like well while he’s here he may as well make himself useful and leaves a list of chores like mow lawn, change lightbulbs, fix doorhandles. Steve loves it and then it’s the two of them being all cute and domestic and imagining their future together

And just going off your recent fic with hopper, he absolutely drops by and plays dumb like oh Yasmin isn’t here? Well I might just pop in to check purely to check up on them (*cough* Steve)

You and Steve are Home Alone

Summary: When your mom has to leave for a case, she lets you have Steve come over. However, she doesn’t leave without leaving a list of chores for your boyfriend to do while she’s gone for the week.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Year: Around March of 1985

Warnings: No mentions of Y/N, very fluffy, mentions of sex, I would highly recommend reading my ST series Reticent (click the Series Masterlist below) before reading this one shot but it’s not absolutely necessary

Word Count: 1.7k

Note: Thank you for your request! Here’s a cute little one shot of Star and Steve being home alone while Yasmin has to leave for a case, as well as a surprise visit from Hopper hehe.

Series Masterlist

ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡

Yasmin was already halfway through her second cup of coffee when she stopped in front of the front door, checking the lock for the third time. You leaned against the wall by the stairs, arms crossed, watching her with a raised eyebrow. It was spring break so thankfully you had the time to relax at home. Your mom, however, had to leave to work on a case out of state.

“I’m assuming Steve will be here while I’m gone,” Yasmin said, not looking at you as she clipped her badge onto her belt.

You blinked. “Uh—I mean…he doesn’t have to be. If you don’t want—”

“Oh, please,” she cut you off, finally turning to you. “You think I don’t know you kids by now? The second I leave, he’ll be knocking.”

You tried to hide your grin but failed. “I mean…maybe.”

She handed you a thick yellow notepad. “Then you can also give this to him.”

You frowned, flipping through the pages. “What is this?”

“A very important list of chores. Since your loving boyfriend will be here while I’m out of state chasing down a suspect, the least he can do is mow the lawn, clean the gutters, sweep the porch, fix the leaky faucet, take out the trash, vacuum the living room—”

“Okay! Okay,” you interrupted, laughing. You looked up at her. “You’re actually serious?”

Yasmin raised a brow. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

You sighed, tucking the list under your arm. “This is crazy.”

“Well, Steve knows better than to say no to me,” she said with a smirk, pulling her bag onto her shoulder. Her expression then softened just a bit as she leaned in to kiss the top of your head. “Be good. Call if anything happens.”

You nodded. “Be safe.”

The door shut behind her, and it wasn’t even ten minutes later when you heard the doorbell ring. You let out a quiet giggle to yourself, finding it funny how predictable Steve was sometimes.

You opened it to see Steve standing there with two grocery bags and a stupid grin. “I’m assuming your mom’s gone now since her car isn’t in the driveway.”

“You’re so observant,” you teased, ruffling his perfectly styled hair. He grinned down at you and kissed your cheek before stepping inside the house. He put the grocery bags down onto the kitchen counter, and you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “What are those?”

He turned to you, pointing at the bags. “When you told me your mom was leaving, I figured I’d buy some snacks on my way here so we can start off our spring break by relaxing and watching movies.”

You smiled as he unloaded the bags, pulling out a box of popcorn, two bottles of soda, your favorite candy, and even a pack of those cheap microwave dinners you always joked about liking. Steve was humming to himself, moving with ease around your kitchen like he belonged there, which, you suppose he kind of did by now.

You walked up to him and slipped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek lightly against his back. Steve’s hands found yours, holding them for a second before he turned around and pulled you into a full embrace, locking you in with his arms around your shoulders. You let out a soft noise, but he just grinned and started peppering kisses across your face.

You laughed through it, trying to push him away with no real effort. “It might not be as relaxing as you hoped it’d be,” you said, your voice muffled slightly against his chest.

Steve pulled back a little, eyes narrowing playfully. “Hm? Why’s that?”

You gave him a look and reached over to grab the notepad sitting on the counter. “She left you a list.”

“Uh…what kind of list?”

You weren’t sure what kind of reaction you were expecting, because you knew Steve would never go against your mom’s demands. However, you weren’t prepared for how committed Steve was with the whole thing.

He was wearing one of Yasmin’s old FBI baseball caps backwards as he vacuumed the living room, humming along to the song playing on the record player. He trimmed the bushes, swept the porch, helped you organize the kitchen cabinets, and only rolled his eyes once when he accidentally dropped the wrench in the sink while fixing the faucet.

“Who even taught you how to do this?” You asked as he tightened the last bolt.

“My dad used to teach me some stuff when I was younger,” he shrugged, looking down at you. “Plus, I figured I’d learn because I didn’t want to suck at everything.”

Your eyes softened. “You don’t suck at everything, Steve. Stop that.”

He moved away from the sink before turning back to you, his lips turning up at the pout on your face. “You’re right. You know what I’m insanely good at?”

You raised an eyebrow in confusion but the smirk on his face made you roll your eyes, playfully slapping his arm as you began to walk away. “Gross, Steve.”

He followed you with a chuckle. “You didn’t think it was gross the other night when my head was in be—”

You grabbed a pillow off the sofa and smacked him square in the chest before he could finish.

He stumbled back with an exaggerated gasp, laughing. “Abuse! That’s actual abuse!”

“You’re such a dumbass,” you giggled.

He tossed the pillow back onto the couch and walked over to wrap his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“I like doing this stuff with you,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Feels…I don’t know. Like maybe we could do this for real someday. You know, like a house, doing dumb chores, going on grocery trips.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sudden change in tone, but his face was sincere. You bit your lip, eyes locking onto his. “Yeah. That sounds kind of perfect.”

“Yeah?” He whispered, his loving eyes staring down at you. It made you want to kiss him stupid.

“Mhm,” you hummed, before your hands trailed up his chest slowly. “And imagine all the sex we could have when we’re alone.”

Steve blinked, then pulled back just enough to raise a brow at you. “Are you serious right now?”

You grinned. “What? It’s true.”

He let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You smacked me with a pillow five seconds ago for what I said.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged, eyes sparkling. “It sounds better when I say it.”

“Oh, unbelievable,” he muttered, scoffing playfully as he grabbed the pillow again and lightly whacked you with it. You shrieked, running away before he could do it again. Steve laughed as he chased after you, the pillow still in hand.

Later, the two of you sat on the couch folding laundry, your thighs brushing together, the scent of the cookies you’d baked still warm in the air. You handed him a towel and caught him staring.

“What?” You asked softly.

Steve just smiled. “Nothing. You’re just so beautiful.”

You looked at him, cheeks growing warm. Even after all this time, he still never failed to make you shy. “Oh…”

He didn’t let you look away. His hand found your chin, tilting your face gently toward his before closing the space between you. His lips met yours in a slow kiss, the kind that made you forget what you were doing, what day it was, what the world outside even looked like. His hand slipped to your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin softly. You leaned in, kissing him back just as slow, letting your fingers tangle in the front of his shirt.

Just as you were about to deepen the kiss, the doorbell rang. You both pulled back from each other, lips swollen and eyes dazed. You groaned and stood up, brushing off your shirt before walking to the door. You opened it to find Hopper standing there with his arms crossed.

“Hey?” You greeted, raising an eyebrow at his sudden arrival.

“Hi,” he grunted, before looking past you into the house. His eyes landed on Steve, who was still holding the towel you handed him. “Just checking in.”

You leaned on the doorframe, squinting your eyes at him playfully. “Sure you are.”

Steve stood awkwardly, a sheepish smile on his face as he waved weakly. “Hi, Chief.”

“Harrington,” Hopper nodded, narrowing his eyes at Steve. He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, brushing past you as he headed straight to the kitchen.

You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath as you shut the door. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”

“I know Yasmin’s not here,” Hopper said.

“We’re fine,” you called out, trailing behind him. “We didn’t set the house on fire or anything.”

Hopper opened his mouth like he was about to make a joke, but instead, his eyes landed on the tray of cookies cooling on the counter.

You beat him to it, pointing toward them with a smug smile. “Want a cookie?”

Hopper hummed and reached for one, taking a bite. “This is good.”

You smiled. “Steve made them.”

He froze mid-chew, eyes cutting to Steve, who offered a nervous smile. He coughed. “Oh. Right. I meant…they’re fine.”

“Fine?” You repeated, stifling a laugh.

“Yeah. Bit dry,” he added, grabbing a second one anyway.

Steve tilted his head, his voice quiet. “But you’re eating another one…?”

“Just making sure it’s consistently average,” Hopper grumbled, taking a bigger bite this time.

You leaned against the kitchen counter next to Steve, arms brushing. Hopper glanced between you both, noticing the quiet way you gravitated toward each other.

He sighed. “Alright, I’ve done my job. Checked in. Ate a cookie.”

“Two,” you corrected.

“Right.” He finished the second one and gave you both a nod. “I’ll be around if anything…happens.”

You tilted your head at him. “Thanks, Hop.”

He gave you a look, then looked at Steve. “You know the drill. Keep your hands where I can see them. Especially when I’m not here.”

“Got it, Chief,” Steve replied quickly, voice a little higher than usual. Hopper gave one last grunt before heading for the door. After it shut behind him, Steve let out a long breath and turned to you. “That man terrifies me.”

You grinned, sliding your arms around his waist again. “Yeah, well…he likes you more than he lets on.”

“I don’t think your mom scares me as much as he does.”

You laughed. “I’m telling you. It means they both like you.”

“They have a really funny way of showing it.”

[httpvomitello]

Hiii can I request a fic with George where reader wears a heart locket with George's picture in it and he actually sees it when they're staying at grimauld place?

Hellooo, i hope you like it ~ ♡

The Locket .｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: You’ve been dating George Weasley for a while now, and you’ve been wearing a heart-shaped locket with his picture inside.

george weasley x f!reader

The common room of Grimmauld Place was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of pages and the clink of a mug being set down on a table. You were curled up in a chair, tucked under a blanket, trying to focus on your book, but your mind kept wandering — and mostly, it kept wandering to the idiot currently sitting on the floor beside you.

George was sprawled out with his legs stretched out in front of him, pretending to read one of the many magical textbooks they had scattered around. His hair was messy from a day of flying practice, and the way he kept flicking through pages without actually reading anything made you roll your eyes.

“What are you doing?” you asked, glancing down at him.

“Reading,” he said, giving you a completely exaggerated wink. “I’m very studious, haven’t you noticed?”

You snorted. “You’ve been flipping through the same page for ten minutes. You’re not fooling anyone.”

George lifted an eyebrow, eyes narrowing mischievously. “Well, what can I say? You’re just too distracting.”

Your eyes shifted down to your lap, and for the first time, George’s gaze followed yours — straight to the small heart-shaped locket resting gently against your chest.

His eyes widened.

“Is that...?” he asked, his voice full of surprise, “Is that a picture of me?”

“Oh no,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Uh... well... yes, it is?”

George’s lips curled into a smirk as he sat up, leaning in a little too close for comfort. “Wait, hold up. You’ve been wearing this... this picture of me around your neck?”

“George, it’s not a big deal,” you said, nervously tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “It’s just... a thing. It’s not that serious.”

He raised both eyebrows dramatically. “Not that serious? Oh doll, so you’ve just been carrying around my face on your neck like a piece of jewelry? I’m flattered, really.”

You could barely contain your laughter. “It’s not like that! It’s just a locket. It’s... sentimental, okay?”

“Sentimental?” he repeated with a dramatic gasp. “I’m sentimental now? Are you trying to say that I’m important to you?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “Obviously, George. It’s a picture of you, isn’t it?”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” He leaned in a little closer, his breath warm against your skin as he gently took the locket in his fingers. “So, what’s this? Do I get a special spot right next to your heart, or is this just a phase?”

You could feel your cheeks burning again. “Don’t be ridiculous,” you muttered, feeling the teasing edge in his voice. “It’s just a picture. It’s not that big of a deal.”

He glanced down at it, running his thumb over the small pendant. “I think it’s adorable that you carry around a piece of me all the time.” He smirked and glanced up at you. “But now that I know it’s there, I’ll have to make sure I’m even more irresistible.”

“Please,” you teased, “as if you weren’t already irresistible.”

George grinned, and you could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. “Well, I’ll just have to make sure you never forget who’s got your heart, won’t I?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “You already know, George. You don’t need to be so dramatic.”

“I’m just being charming,” he said with a cheeky wink. “Clearly, it’s working. I mean, you’re carrying around my picture, after all.”

“Oh, stop it,” you groaned. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible?” George repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Sometimes it is,” you muttered, grinning despite yourself.

He leaned back, eyes glinting. “Well, in that case, I’m taking full responsibility for the fact that you’re completely smitten with me.”

You blinked, trying to keep a straight face. “Completely? You’re really going with that?”

“Of course I am,” George said, clearly not taking you seriously. “I’m irresistible. And don’t you forget it.”

“Alright, alright,” you said, laughing. “You win, George. I’m totally smitten.”

“I knew it,” he said triumphantly, raising his arms in victory. “And that’s why you wear my picture around your neck. It’s because you can’t resist my charming personality.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling fondly at him. “Yeah, yeah. You’re the best.”

“I know,” he said, grinning.

Two days later

It was late, and most of the house had gone to bed. You were sitting with George in the living room again, this time curled up on the couch, watching the fire crackle softly in the hearth. You’d forgotten to take off the locket when you’d changed earlier, and now it rested comfortably against your chest, just as it always did.

George was leaning against the armrest, his hand resting on the back of the couch behind you. You could tell he was trying to act casual, but there was something in his eyes that kept giving him away — like he was waiting for a moment to pounce.

Finally, after a long silence, he leaned in, his voice suddenly quiet and a little more serious. “You really do wear it because you care, don’t you?”

You nodded, surprised by how serious he suddenly sounded. “Of course I do. I love you, George.”

His grin returned, wider than ever. “I knew it.” He reached out and gave the locket a playful tap. “Can’t get enough of me, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m going to start charging you for all this attention.”

“Does that mean you’ll take me as payment?” he asked, looking way too pleased with himself.

“Sure,” you said dryly. “But only if you promise to stop being so smug about it.”

George winked at you, pulling you in closer. “Deal.”

And as you rested your head against his shoulder, you realized that while the locket might’ve been a symbol of your love for him, it was George’s ridiculousness that you were most in love with.

[dakusan]

📁 ASK DUMP 𓆩🩸𓆪 16 JUNE 2025

listen up, you filthy, filthy angels—you’ve outdone yourselves this time. today’s dump isn’t just spicy, it’s a full-course feral feast served straight from your depraved little brains, and i’m eating every bite. you fucking whores really woke up and said, “what if we collectively lost all self-control and dragged daku down with us?” — and honestly? i respect it. i adore it. i want more.

this is your warning: nothing in here is holy. we’re talking storm-fucking, photo booth disasters, gamer chair filth, breeding plugs, and enough vampire chaos to make the moon blush. you are all absolute menaces for sending these in, and i love you for it.

so buckle up, sinners—today’s dump is loud, sticky, and completely devoid of shame. if you make it to the end without kicking your feet and giggling like an idiot, you’re lying to yourself.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

felixleftchickennugget LOGGED: “tag me in every single brainrot or i’ll cry” energy”

oh baby don’t you worry your pretty little heart—i saw you, loud and clear 😏 you’re officially branded, stamped. every feral brainrot, every unhinged fic drop, every whisper of chaos? you’re getting it hot and first. no google doc, no sign-up sheets—just me, clawing you right into the tag list. welcome to the riot, darling. 🔥✨

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

rinthehufflepuff LOGGED: “who plugs the dolls and who just keeps them cocked up all night”

oh RIN. RIN BABY. 🩸 you really came in here swinging with the breeding kink census and i am saluting you for it. “no such thing as too much breeding content” — you speak my language. alright, feral child, you want the breakdown? you’re gonna get the breakdown. buckle up, because these boys are monsters and you asked for the plug tea:

⚠️ CONTENT WARNINGS: NSFW // 18+ only – explicit sexual content, breeding kink, cockwarming, plug usage, overstimulation // Breeding kink themes – mentions of retention, “keeping it in,” and breeding-focused dirty talk / Vampiric elements – implied enhanced stamina, feral/possessive behaviour, glowing veins, etc. // Power dynamics – light praise, control, and ritualistic undertones (Minho, Seungmin). // Overstimulation & edging – Felix’s vibrating plugs, Chan’s extended sessions. // Slight soft degradation – pet names like “good girl,” “perfect doll.” // Mentions of body fluids – breeding kink, “leaking full” imagery. // Possessive/feral language – territorial phrasing (“mine,” “all of it,” etc.).

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 WHO PLUGS & HOW — VAMPIRE!SKZ BREEDING EDITION 🩸

BANG CHAN oh, baby, Chan doesn’t just plug—he designs the damn plugs himself. custom-molded, scent-locked, perfectly shaped to hold every last drop of him in you. he’s a patient breeder—plugs you after hours of overstim and makes you stay full all night, praising you for being such a “good girl.” occasionally, he’ll keep you cock-warmed instead—he loves the way you twitch around him.

LEE MINHO ritualistic as hell. silver-inlaid, rune-carved plugs that look like art pieces. he likes to plug after a brutal, slow breeding session—calls it “sealing the ritual.” keeps you on your knees in front of him while he works, just to admire how “his pretty girl stays stretched for him.” sometimes swaps plugs for leaving his cock in you for hours—purely because he enjoys your soft whimpers.

SEO CHANGBIN cockwarming king. he’s too possessive for plugs, prefers falling asleep buried inside you, holding your hips so you don’t squirm away. but if he does use a plug? it’s a simple, thick silicone one he can pop in while he carries you around, whispering about how full you are. he’s a little smug about it—“feel how heavy you are with me? yeah, that’s mine, all of it.”

HWANG HYUNJIN oh this man is a plug exhibitionist. loves clear ones (yes, clear), so he can watch it drip and press it back in with his thumb. prefers longer, stretchier sessions where you’re plugged under silk robes while he sketches or paints, occasionally tugging the plug to watch you clench. absolute menace.

HAN JISUNG messy, messy, messy. he tries to plug you but always ends up cockwarming instead because he can’t stop himself from grinding and rutting even when he promises to just keep you full. if he plugs, it’s usually something cute or ridiculous—heart-shaped, jewel-studded, something he giggles about before immediately turning filthy and murmuring, “god, look at how you’re swallowing it.”

LEE FELIX sweet voice, evil intentions. he plugs you to overstim you—something slim enough you can almost forget it’s there until he turns it on (vibrating, of course). he’s soft and cooing about it the whole time—“shh, baby, just stay plugged for me… wanna keep you leaking all day.” occasionally swaps to cockwarming because he loves sleeping skin-to-skin with you.

KIM SEUNGMIN oh he’s clinical about it. plugs are sized perfectly for max retention—he doesn’t want a drop wasted. uses his fingers to push it in, taps it lightly just to see you twitch. keeps mental timers, checks you constantly, praises you softly for “holding everything like a perfect doll.” secretly enjoys cockwarming.

YANG JEONGIN feral about it—likes watching it drip, so he plugs late. he prefers filling you again and again until you’re overstimmed and boneless, then plugs you at the very end just to “make sure it takes.” he blushes when you tease him about it, but his glowing veins say otherwise.

⸺⟡⸺

RIN, you absolute menace—thank you for this ask. breeding kink sluts everywhere (myself included) owe you a blood-soaked toast. you cracked my brain open like a ripe pomegranate and i have zero regrets. keep being feral 🦇💋

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

💙ANON LOGGED: “broke lurker status, claimed 💙”

oh my GOD anon—you are💙 anon now because you just claimed it and i’m never letting you go—this message?? it straight-up punched me in the heart in the best way. hi, hello, welcome out of lurkdom, i’m throwing confetti and tackling you with love.

you saying Tattoo Artist!Chan felt like a bubble where everything is okay?? STOP, I’M GONNA CRY. that’s exactly what i wanted him to feel like—hot, filthy, but also that steady, safe softness you can curl up in when life feels like too much. knowing it soothed you even a little? priceless.

summer can be such a lonely beast, but you’re here now, and i promise you, 💙 anon, you’re officially part of the chaos family 💋🦇

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

blxksun LOGGED: “nighttime routine reader & halloween monster brainrot bringer”

ohhh blxksun, sliding in with compliments and a HALLOWEEN MONSTER OT8 REQUEST?? you’re spoiling me. first of all—nighttime routine?? BABE. i’m honoured to be the last thing you read before you sleep (and probably the reason you wake up flustered, huh? 😉). thank you, seriously

⚠️ CONTENT WARNINGS: NSFW / 18+ ONLY – explicit sexual content // Public / semi-public sex – party setting, bathrooms, balconies, coat closets, hallways, guest rooms. // Costume kink / roleplay elements – werewolf, vampire, frankenstein, siren, imp, fallen angel, demon, incubus-themed dirty talk. // Breeding & possessive language – implied in some scenes (Chan, Jeongin, Minho). // Light impact play / grabbing – chin-gripping (Minho, Seungmin, Jeongin), thigh grabbing (Changbin, Hyunjin). // Biting / scratching // Dirty talk / mild degradation – pet names like “bad girl,” “baby,” “sweetheart,” and phrases like “fuck you stupid,” “my prey,” “under my spell.” // Voyeuristic / exhibitionist undertones // Soft praise kink – Felix’s scene, soft murmured praises. // Overstimulation / rough handling – Jeongin’s incubus role, Changbin’s stamina-focused scene.

⸺⟡⸺

🎃 OT8 x Reader – HALLOWEEN MONSTER NSFW (Summerween Special)

BANG CHAN – THE WEREWOLF 🐺

low-cut ripped shirt, fake claw marks, messy styled hair—Chan growls playfully while pushing you against the bathroom sink at the party. “don’t laugh—i can still fuck you stupid in a fake costume, sweetheart.” he bites gently at your neck and rails you from behind, panting against your shoulder.

LEE MINHO – THE VAMPIRE 🩸

silky shirt, velvet jacket, sharp fake fangs. Minho pulls you into a quiet corner, tilts your chin up dramatically— “don’t move, darling, my prey shouldn’t squirm.” he fucks you slow on the couch, smirking every time you moan louder when his teeth drag along your skin.

SEO CHANGBIN – THE FRANKENSTEIN⚡

green face paint smudged everywhere, fake bolts on his neck, shirtless with drawn-on stitches. he lifts you onto a table, hands gripping your thighs. “i might look stupid, but my stamina’s real, babe.” he pounds into you until you’re gasping, his paint rubbing off all over your chest.

HWANG HYUNJIN – THE SIREN 🌊

shimmering painted scales along his chest, loose mesh top hanging off his shoulders. Hyunjin pulls you onto his lap at the party’s balcony, murmuring against your ear, “you’re gonna ride me right here, gorgeous. show everyone who’s got you under their spell.” his painted hands leave glitter streaks on your thighs as he guides you down on his cock.

HAN JISUNG – THE IMP 😈

tiny horns, leather pants, tail belt he keeps tugging on you with. Jisung drags you into the coat closet, laughing breathlessly as he bends you over. “look at you, letting a little devil fuck you at a party. bad girl.” he’s sloppy, fast, and leaves little red paint smears all over your ass.

LEE FELIX – THE FALLEN ANGEL 👼🏻🔥

white ripped shirt, crooked halo, black-tipped feathers trailing behind him. Felix gets shy when you drag him into a guest room, but once you kiss him, he’s gone. “m’sorry—can’t help it, you look so pretty.” he fucks you sweet and desperate, still wearing his wings, murmuring soft praises with every thrust.

KIM SEUNGMIN – THE DEMON 👹

slick black shirt, thin fake horns, little leather collar around his neck. he corners you in the hallway, one hand gripping your chin. “thought you could tease me all night in that dress? nah, baby.” he fucks you against the wall, one hand covering your mouth when you get too loud.

YANG JEONGIN – THE INCUBUS 🔥

tight black pants hugging his thighs, fake tail swishing behind him, a chest harness he’s way too confident in. Jeongin corners you in the guest room with a cocky smirk, tilting your chin up with two fingers. “what’s wrong? you’ve been staring at me all night—didn’t think i’d notice?” he bends you over the dresser, fucking into you hard and fast, whispering right against your ear— “incubus, right? means i drain you… guess i’ll keep going ‘til you’re too dumb to walk out of here.”

⸺⟡⸺

blxksun, you absolute legend—thank you for tossing this summerween brainrot straight into my lap. sweaty costumes, party filth, and now a feral Incubus!Jeongin?? you’ve officially cursed me (in the best way) 💋🦇

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🌻ANON LOGGED: “vamp!SKZ being simps at the beach”

ohhh HI 🌻 ANON—YES, YOU ARE NOW 🌻 ANON, CLAIMED AND BRANDED (no one else has it, so it’s yours 🌻). first of all—STOP, YOU’RE GONNA MAKE ME CRY 😭🩸. i’m hugging you through the screen.

and SECOND—BABY. vamp!SKZ + BEACHWEAR?? the sun-warmed skin, ocean salt, them getting high off the scent of you?? oh you just cracked my skull open with that one. they can handle the sun but you KNOW they’d go feral:

⸺⟡⸺

Chan – sprawled under a beach umbrella, sunglasses low, obsessed with kissing your sunscreened shoulders. murmurs, “smell like the sun, baby… fuck, i can taste it on you.”

Minho – pretends to be indifferent, but he drags you into the shade every 10 minutes just to press his face against your stomach, murmuring, “too warm for your own good… my little sunspot.”

Changbin – cannot stop touching you, tracing tan lines with his thumb, then licking the saltwater off your collarbones.

Hyunjin – wet hair, golden glow, feral about smearing after-sun lotion on your thighs, kissing every spot he rubs it in.

Jisung – literally tries to bite you, laughing between kisses like, “can’t help it, you’re all sun-hot and pretty, wanna taste all of it.”

Felix – lies with his head on your stomach, humming against your skin, whispering about how “your warmth feels better than sunlight ever could.”

Seungmin – quietly obsessed. keeps pulling your bikini strap aside just to kiss underneath it where only he gets to see.

Jeongin – sits in the surf with you on his lap, holding you like he owns you, whispering smugly, “bet everyone’s jealous, huh? all this sun and skin’s mine.”

⸺⟡⸺

🌻 anon, you absolute treasure—thank you for dropping this sunshine-soaked brainrot in my lap. never stop feeding me asks like this 💋🦇

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

👻ANON LOGGED: “photo booth public filth mastermind”

👻 ANON YOU LITTLE GENIUS—PHOTO BOOTH SMUT?? oh, you’ve RUINED me. this is such deliciously filthy public chaos and you painted the setup so perfectly i’m already drooling. mall photo booth, post-night-before teasing, and the countdown starting?? yeah, it’s OVER for them.

and you’re SO right—Jisung is chef’s kiss for this because he’s the perfect mix of eager puppy + absolutely filthy when pushed. but Chan? possessive growly menace, biting your neck like he wants to mark you in every photo slot. and Jeongin?? cocky, smug, smirking right at the camera while you’re on his lap—yup, all three work, and now imma write each version.

⚠️ CONTENT WARNINGS: NSFW / 18+ ONLY – explicit sexual content, public teasing, heavy grinding. // Public / semi-public sex // Biting / marking – neck biting (Jisung, Chan, Jeongin). // Dirty talk & possessive behavior – territorial language, mild degradation (“evil baby,” “everyone’s gonna know who you belong to,” “fucked-out”). // Rough handling – waist/hip gripping tight enough to bruise // Exhibitionistic undertones // Soft degradation + praise mix – teasing, cocky comments, and Chan’s “good girl” energy implied.

⸺⟡⸺

HAN JISUNG

he’s already pink-cheeked when you drag him inside, practically bouncing on his sneakers as the machine eats your coins. he’s trying to joke, to keep things light—“let’s do cute poses, babe, hearts and peace signs, okay?”—but the second the countdown hits 3…

First Slot: you’re on his lap in one fluid motion, his hands flying to your hips like instinct. the flash catches his wide eyes and bitten lip as you shift, grinding down just enough to make him whimper.

Second Slot: you tilt forward and bite his neck—hard. his head falls back against the booth wall, mouth open in a soft, shaky “fuuuck.” flash catches his ruffled hair and flushed skin.

Third Slot: Jisung’s trying so hard to keep quiet as you roll your hips. his hand gripping you tight enough to bruise. the camera catches him looking at you, feral eyes locked on you. the type of look that says you're lucky we're in public.

Fourth Slot: his self-control’s gone. he’s got his arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him as he bucks up, voice breaking, “you’re evil, baby—oh god—”. flash catches his desperate, wrecked face and your smug grin.

by the time it's done? Jisung’s panting against your neck, mumbling, “you’re so dead when we get home… and we’re keeping those photos. all of them.”

BANG CHAN

Chan’s suspicious the second you drag him inside, arms crossed, smirking. “you’ve got that look in your eye, baby. what are you planning?” you just smile sweetly as the screen flashes INSERT COINS.

First Slot: he sits back casually, but you’re already straddling him, nails digging into his shoulders. Chan’s grin sharpens—“ohhh, that’s what we’re doing? yeah, okay.”

Second Slot: you bite his neck just as the flash hits, and Chan growls low, real low, hands gripping your waist so tight you yelp. photo catches him glaring at the camera like he wants to murder it for watching.

Third Slot: he flips the script, pulling you flush, grinding his cock up into you slow, deliberate, teeth-baring smile aimed directly at the camera. “gonna remember this, baby. everyone’s gonna know who you belong to.”

Fourth Slot: Chan tilts your head, kissing you so hard the flash catches nothing but your open mouth and his hand gripping your jaw. he is grinding slow and deep, whispering filth between kisses, “gonna fuck you stupid the second we’re out of here.”

you stumble out after, cheeks burning, Chan laughing low as he pockets the photo strip. “i'm framing these. non-negotiable.”

YANG JEONGIN

Jeongin smirks the second you eye the photo booth, leaning against the side like he owns it. “you’re dragging me in there to do what I think you’re doing? yeah? good.”

First Slot: he sits, spreads his legs, and pats his thigh with a smug little tilt of his head. “c’mere. wanna make sure the camera gets the good angle.” flash catches you climbing onto his lap, his grin wicked.

Second Slot: he grabs your hips and rolls them against him, hard. your gasp? caught perfectly on camera—so is Jeongin’s smirk as he stares straight into the lens like he’s performing. “bet they can hear how wet you are from outside.”

Third Slot: you bite his neck this time, but Jeongin just laughs, low and dangerous, gripping your ass tight, pulling you down harder. the flash catches his glowing, feral gaze locked on you, like he’s eating you alive.

Fourth Slot: Jeongin leans back, one hand behind his head, the other holding your jaw so you’re facing the camera while you grind on him. “smile, baby. wanna remember how fucked-out you looked.”

with the pictures done, Jeongin's already tugging you toward the mall bathrooms, muttering, “you didn’t think we were done, did you?”

⸺⟡⸺

👻 anon, you absolute menace—thank you for dropping this perfect little public filth fantasy into my lap. photo booth smut?? genius. you’ve officially made me look at every mall booth like it’s a crime scene waiting to happen, and i adore you for it 💋🦇

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🩷ANON LOGGED: “first-time request & soft-strong bar confrontation brainrot”

OH BABY. first of all—WELCOME!! 💗 absolutely nothing about this is too much or too weird—this is such a raw, gut-punch of a scenario, and i’m already holding your hand through the screen because it’s so personal and brave of you to share. and second—your english is PERFECT, don’t even worry for a second.

you are now officially 🩷 anon (soft but strong, because that’s exactly the energy you’re giving). and you just fed me one of the most emotionally feral prompts i’ve seen in a while.

⸺⟡⸺

the bar goes silent, your father’s voice booming, dripping with that old venom you’ve been running from. “come home, now.” and you—you finally snap, years of swallowed pain bursting out in screams and tears. you shove past him, stumbling outside, chest tight, panic clawing at your lungs.

and then—vamp!SKZ.

Chan is already there, grabbing you the second you push through the door, pulling you tight against his chest, whispering low, “i’ve got you, baby. breathe. he’s not touching you again, not ever.” his aura’s so lethal the crowd parts when he turns to face the bar.

Minho doesn’t say a word. he follows your father back inside, slow and terrifying, smiling that blood-oath smile that means someone isn’t walking out the same way they walked in.

Changbin stands guard at the door, growling low whenever anyone tries to get close, his hand rubbing circles on your back to keep you grounded.

Hyunjin crouches in front of you, wiping your tears, voice trembling with rage as he whispers, “you’re safe. i swear to you, he won’t even look at you again after tonight.”

Jisung presses frantic kisses to your temple, rocking you gently, murmuring “i’m here, i’m here, i’ve got you” like a mantra.

Felix is shaking from anger, holding your hand so tightly his veins are glowing faintly—his protective instincts going wild.

Seungmin is quiet but his jaw’s locked, already calling someone to “handle” your father permanently.

Jeongin? he’s the one who physically steps in front of you, crouching low, whispering, “look at me, focus on me. you’re safe now, okay? he can’t touch you ever again. i won’t let him.”

the whole bar feels the shift when they realize—you belong to vampires, and no one hurts what’s theirs.

⸺⟡⸺

🩷 anon, thank you SO much for trusting me with this ask. you’re amazing for sharing this, and now I’m fully obsessed with making sure vamp!SKZ tears the world apart for you. please never be nervous to send me things—you’re safe here, always 💋🦇

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sheerfreesia007 LOGGED: “thunderstorm sex brainrot”

SEXY-STORM?? babe, you just invented my new favorite genre. thunder shaking the walls, lightning flashing across their sharp cheekbones, windows wide open while they fuck you like they’re trying to outdo the sky?? yes. yes. YES.

⚠️ CONTENT WARNINGS: NSFW / 18+ ONLY // Semi-public setting – open windows, implied visibility (Jeongin, Chan, Hyunjin). // Rough sex / impact undertones – bruising grips, wrist pinning, jaw grabbing. // Biting / marking // Dirty talk / possessive language // Praise kink & soft degradation // Overstimulation & pace changes

⸺⟡⸺

⚡ VAMP!SKZ x READER — SEXY-STORM EDITION

BANG CHAN

Rain mists against your back as Chan cages you against the wide-open window, his body hot despite the cold air rushing in. Lightning flashes, glinting off the sharp lines of his arms as they flex on either side of you.

Every thrust is slow, deep, claiming, timed with the boom of thunder. His breath ghosts across your ear as he growls low, voice rasping, “hear that, baby? even the storm’s jealous—’cause only I get to fuck you like this.”

When a particularly loud crack of thunder rattles the glass, Chan bites down on your neck, hips snapping forward hard enough to make the window frame shake. He doesn’t stop whispering against your skin, “louder. scream for me. let the sky know who owns you.”

LEE MINHO

Minho is devastatingly controlled—every movement deliberate, as if he’s choreographing himself to the rhythm of the rain hitting the sill. He leans over you, fingers bruising your hips, eyes catching the lightning with a predator’s gleam.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, thrusting slow and punishing, “storm’s loud, but you’re louder, pretty girl. they’ll all hear how good I fuck you.”

The moment a jagged bolt lights up the room, he tilts your chin up, forces you to look at him, smirking, “keep your eyes on me. don’t blink. I want you to see exactly who’s making you fall apart while the whole damn sky’s watching.”

SEO CHANGBIN

The storm is wild—and so is Changbin. His hair is plastered to his forehead, rain blowing in through the window and dripping down his neck, but he doesn’t care. He pounds into you relentlessly, hips slapping against yours as thunder cracks.

He groans loud enough to rival the storm, muttering filth between ragged breaths: “so fucking tight, baby, holy shit—fuck, you’re taking me so good.”

Every time thunder booms, his pace quickens, almost like he’s trying to outdo it. He grabs your jaw, forcing your teary eyes to his, and grins, “you feel that? whole city can hear how wet you are for me. louder than the damn rain.”

HWANG HYUNJIN

Hyunjin looks otherworldly with the storm in the back, every flicker of lightning making him look like a carved statue come to life. He presses your body against the windowsill, his lips dragging down your throat.

His thrusts are slow, sensual torture, his voice a breathless whisper against your ear, “you’re glowing… thunder’s clapping for you, love. it knows how good you feel on me.”

He kisses every inch of you the lightning touches, almost worshipful, until the storm peaks and his pace turns frantic, moaning openly against your skin, “fuck, you’re my masterpiece.”

HAN JISUNG

Chaotic, desperate, and loud. Jisung fucks you like he’s racing the lightning, hips snapping fast, hair bouncing into his eyes as he pants brokenly.

A thunderclap roars overhead, and he laughs breathlessly, rutting harder, “even the sky’s going crazy for you, baby—fuck, you’re unreal.”

He doesn’t slow, gripping your thighs to keep you spread as he groans, voice cracking mid-thrust, “holy shit, you’re squeezing me so tight—gonna cum to the sound of you screaming louder than the storm.”

LEE FELIX

Felix is soft and sinful, whispering praise through every thrust, his golden skin glowing each time lightning flashes. He holds you close, forehead pressed to yours.

“thunder’s nothing compared to you… you’re so warm, baby, so good for me.”

When thunder shakes the glass, he loses his composure, hips stuttering as he moans against your mouth. His aftershocks are almost sweeter than the sex—kissing you over and over, murmuring, “best storm I’ve ever had, angel. all because of you.”

KIM SEUNGMIN

Seungmin is terrifyingly precise—each thrust perfectly timed, almost clinical, except for the dark hunger glittering in his eyes as lightning outlines his sharp jaw.

He has your wrists pinned above your head, voice low, controlled, “good girl. take me like this… let them hear who you belong to.”

When thunder rumbles, he thrusts deeper, smirking at your sharp gasp. “there it is. louder than the storm—exactly how I like you.”

YANG JEONGIN

Jeongin thrives on possession. He has you bent against the rain-slicked glass, his cocky grin flashing every time lightning strikes.

“look at us, sweetheart,” he pants, one hand gripping your chin to force you to watch your reflection. “the whole city’s watching you fall apart on my cock.”

He fucks you harder every time thunder rolls, deliberately timing each deep thrust to the boom, growling low, “storm can try, but you’ll always be louder for me.”

⸺⟡⸺

you absolute storm-bringer—thank you for birthing the term sexy-storm and ruining me in the best way. you are a gift to this chaos 🦇💋

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🦋ANON LOGGED: “woke from nap with fangs + public biting fetish”

🦋 ANON, MY BELOVED—YOU’RE BACK AND YOU’RE FERALLY GIFTING ME THIS?? you woke up from a nap with fangs and immediately sent brainrot?? that’s devotion. i’m kissing your forehead (and maybe leaving bite marks too).

⸺⟡⸺

BANG CHAN

Chan’s mid-conversation with someone important, polite smile on his face, when you casually settle on his lap. His hand automatically moves to your hip, thumb rubbing soothing circles—until you lean in, lips brushing his ear.

"Just bite me and destroy me, please."

The polite smile disappears instantly. Chan’s jaw tightens, his grip on your waist turning bruising as he growls low enough that only you can hear, “you have no idea what you just started.”

Before you can blink, he’s dragging you closer, lips pressed to your neck like he’s whispering something sweet—but then his fangs sink in. Not hard enough to make you scream, but just enough to make you shiver in his hold. He drinks slow, deliberately, while his other hand kneads your thigh possessively.

When he pulls back, his lips are stained red, and he smirks, whispering, “you think I’m done? baby, the second we leave, you’re not walking out of that hotel room.”

LEE MINHO

You whisper it during a dull speech, his arm draped lazily over your chair. “Just bite me and destroy me, please.”

Minho doesn’t even blink—he just slowly turns his head, smirking, eyes dark. “Here? Brave of you.”

He doesn’t bite right away. No—Minho teases you mercilessly first, dragging his fangs along your pulse, just enough to make you squirm. His breath fans against your neck as he murmurs, “You’ll beg louder if I wait, sweetheart. Maybe I’ll make you cry for it.”

Finally, when you’re practically grinding against his thigh (in desperation) later in the hotel room does he sinks his fangs in with a low groan, holding you still.

SEO CHANGBIN

You barely finish whispering before Changbin reacts. He grips your hips tight, growling, “you can’t just say that to me, doll.”

His fangs are in your neck within seconds, no hesitation, no care for who’s looking. His big hand cups the back of your head, holding you against him as he drinks, groaning into your skin.

You shift slightly on his lap and he growls louder, hips jerking up against you through his slacks. “fuck, you taste so good—god, I’m gonna wreck you when we leave.”

People are staring, but Changbin doesn’t care. He licks the mark when he’s done, leaning back with a cocky grin, “everyone here knows you’re mine now, more than before.”

HWANG HYUNJIN

Hyunjin’s expression shifts the second you whisper it—soft to feral in half a second. He cups your chin, turning your face toward his, his voice dripping with danger, “you really want me to lose control here?”

When you nod, his self-control snaps. His long fingers grip your hips as he leans in like he’s going to kiss your cheek sweetly, but instead his fangs sink into your shoulder, slow and deep.

You gasp, trying not to squirm, but Hyunjin’s holding you firmly, murmuring, “shh, love, let them see. they should know you’re only for me.”

HAN JISUNG

You whisper it, and Jisung chokes on air, blinking at you with wide, panicked eyes for all of two seconds—then he’s done for.

His hands fly to your waist, dragging you closer until you’re pressed against him. His fangs pierce your skin with zero hesitation, muffling a whine against your neck.

He’s not subtle—his hips are grinding up into you, his breath coming fast, and he’s muttering brokenly between licks, “fuck, you can’t just—god, you feel so good—gonna fuck you stupid as soon as we’re alone.”

LEE FELIX

You whisper it and Felix actually pauses, blinking like he’s checking if you’re serious. “Are you sure? right now?”

The second you nod, his entire demeanor changes. His fangs slide into your collarbone with a soft growl, and his free hand clutches your thigh like he’s grounding himself.

Felix’s moans are quiet, almost soft as he drinks—his forehead pressed to yours. “you’re perfect… god, I’m never letting you go, angel.”

KIM SEUNGMIN

You whisper it, and Seungmin smiles—slow and dangerous.

"Destroy you? Sure, doll."

He tilts your head without asking, dragging his fangs slowly down your neck before biting hard enough to make you gasp. His grip on your hips tightens as he murmurs against your skin, “you wanted everyone to know you’re mine, huh? consider it done.”

When he pulls back, he doesn’t lick the mark clean—he leaves the blood, smirking as he wipes his thumb across it. “Wear it proudly.”

YANG JEONGIN

You whisper it, and Jeongin’s grin turns predatory.

"Say it again."

You repeat it, and he chuckles low, gripping your jaw to make you look him dead in the eyes before leaning in. His fangs pierce deep, possessive, and he hums against your skin like he’s savoring every drop.

When he finally pulls back, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking at you, “you asked me to destroy you, angel. don’t cry later when I actually do.”

⸺⟡⸺

🦋 anon, you waking up from a nap with fangs and gifting me THIS?? absolute chef’s kiss brainrot. thank you for feeding the chaos; you’ve singlehandedly made public events a thousand times filthier in my head. may vamp!SKZ always bite you exactly how you deserve—bloody kisses and all 💋🦇

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bookswillfindyouaway LOGGED: “my weird cat soulmate hasn’t arrived yet so i’m living through lee know”

FIRST OF ALL—you precious creature. don’t worry, babe, your weird lil cat-person soulmate is absolutely out there (probably sharpening their metaphorical claws while reading books upside down in a corner somewhere). until then? we live vicariously, and you’ve come to the right place for it. 😏🩸

i feel like the best way to explain him is right here 👉 skz falling in love . tucked neatly alongside the rest of the boys in this love-behaviour dump.

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🐹ANON LOGGED: “gamer bf brainrot & glitter fan club president”

🐹 ANON YOU SWEET ANGEL—A FAN CLUB??? STOP IT, YOU’RE GONNA MAKE ME EXPLODE INTO GLITTER ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨. you and your little club? officially my favourite people alive. i love you ALL.

now, regarding the prompt—YES, I SEE THE VISION. but imma soften it just a little because safety and consent = hot, and I love you all too much to lean into the full cursed discord-mod stereotype. SO—

we’re doing gamer bf x gamer gf, online-to-real-life tension, discord calls, filthy playful energy, biting, scratching, and that delicious “holy shit we’ve been flirting for months and now you’re finally in my bed” vibe.

⚠️ CONTENT WARNINGS: NSFW / 18+ ONLY – explicit sexual content, oral sex, penetrative sex. // Possessive & praise-heavy language // Biting / marking – shoulder biting, leaving visible marks. // Rough handling – hair pulling, hips gripped tightly enough to bruise. // Dirty talk – casual, teasing, and mildly possessive. // Breeding undertones – implied by staying inside and keeping you after. // Emotional intimacy – post-sex soft teasing, cuddling, and aftercare.

⸺⟡⸺

Jisung has been down bad since the first week you started gaming together. You were quick, funny, and every time you roasted him in-game, he got harder than he’d ever admit.

Late-night Discord calls became routine—him laughing so hard his mic cracked, you teasing him about his “streamer voice,” him spamming dumb memes at 3 a.m. Somewhere along the way, the flirting stopped being a joke.

“Oh, you’re blushing on camera, aren’t you?” you teased once during a video call. He’d rolled his eyes, cheeks pink, but fired back without missing a beat: “Shut up. You’re lucky you’re cute or I’d mute you.”

By the time you agree to meet IRL, you’re both buzzing with unspoken tension.

He picks you up, wearing his usual hoodie and cap, and the second you smile at him, all his Discord confidence is gone. His voice cracks when he says hi, his fingers drumming the steering wheel the whole drive back to his apartment.

But the second you step inside his room, surrounded by his dual monitors and LED lights, something changes. This is his space. His domain. And he’s been imagining you in it for months.

When you wander to his desk, eyeing his ridiculous pink gaming chair, he grins—wolfish this time. “You wanna sit? Go ahead.”

The second you lower yourself into it, he’s standing behind you, hands gripping the chair back, leaning down so his mouth brushes your ear. “Careful. I’ve thought about you in that chair more times than I should admit.”

Your breath catches—and that’s all it takes for him to snap.

He spins the chair around, pulling you into him by the knees, kissing you hard before you can even react. Months of flirting combust into messy, hungry kisses, his hands sliding under your shirt like he can’t get enough.

“You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me,” he growls against your neck, biting just hard enough to make you gasp.

When you tug his hoodie off and rake your nails down his back, he laughs breathlessly, rutting against you, “Fuck, you’re trying to kill me. You’re even hotter in person, I can’t—”

He drops to his knees in front of you, pushing your thighs apart, kissing the inside of them like he’s worshiping you. When he finally buries his face between your legs, he groans like he’s starving, dragging his tongue slow and messy, one hand gripping your thigh tight.

“Been dreaming about this for months. You taste even better than I imagined.”

When he finally fucks you—bending you over the gaming chair, your hands gripping the armrests—he’s loud, moaning into your shoulder as his hips slap against you.

“Fuck, you feel so good—tightest thing I’ve ever felt, holy shit.” His fingers dig into your hips, and he bites your shoulder just hard enough to leave marks.

When you whimper his name, he laughs darkly, pulling you up by the hair to whisper against your ear, “Knew you’d sound like this for me. Knew it the first night we played together.”

He cums with a broken moan, kissing the back of your neck, still rocking into you slow as he groans, “You’re not leaving tonight. Not after this.”

After? You’re sprawled on his bed, his head on your stomach, his hair a sweaty mess. He’s tracing little circles on your thigh, grinning up at you lazily. “So… rematch tomorrow?” he teases.

You laugh, tugging his hair gently. “You’re gonna be too sore to move, gamer boy.”

He smirks, kissing your stomach. “We’ll see. I play better with incentives.”

⸺⟡⸺

🐹 anon, you absolute angel—you and your glittery little fan club are officially my emotional support squad, and I adore you for sending me this prompt ✨🦇

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🥋 ANON LOGGED: “taekwondo badass + accidental KO panic brainrot”

OH 🥋 ANON—YES, YES, YES, CLAIMED, WELCOME TO THE CHAOS FAMILY! 🥋 fits you perfectly, and taekwondo?? chef’s kiss, I LOVE THIS PROMPT. You’re literally handing me the best mix of athletic pride + protective vamp boyfriends + emotional comfort, and I completely see the vision

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 VAMP!SKZ x TAEKWONDO!READER

BANG CHAN

Chan is your biggest fan—front row at every match, cheering louder than anyone. He loves how disciplined and focused you are, and he brags about you constantly, “My girl could kick my ass if she wanted to, and I’d let her.”

When you knock someone out mid-match and panic, Chan’s already out of his seat, pulling you into a hug the second you’re allowed off the mat. His hands are firm on your shoulders, grounding you, voice low and reassuring, “Breathe, baby. It’s a sport. You didn’t do anything wrong—it was clean, fair. You’re incredible, okay?”

If you whisper that you’re scared you might hurt him one day, he laughs softly, pressing his forehead to yours, “You couldn’t hurt me, sweetheart. I’m literally a vampire. But even if you could, I’d let you. That’s how much I trust you.”

LEE MINHO

Minho is obsessed with your sport—not just because he finds you hot as hell in your uniform, but because he deeply respects your discipline. He teases you all the time, “So when are we sparring? I need to see if you can actually take me down.”

When you knock someone out, Minho doesn’t fuss—he’s calm, collected, crouching in front of you as you panic. His hands are gentle, tilting your chin up so you look him in the eye, “Hey. It’s part of the sport. You train for this. You didn’t hurt them on purpose—you did your job.”

If you worry about hurting him, he smirks, leaning in close, “Please. You’d have to hit me a hundred times harder to even scratch me. But you’re welcome to try.”

SEO CHANGBIN

Changbin thinks you’re the coolest person alive. He gushes about you to anyone who will listen, and he’s so proud every time you step onto the mat, practically vibrating with excitement.

When you knock someone out and panic, he’s immediately hugging you tight, murmuring against your hair, “Baby, baby, hey—it’s okay. You’re amazing. It happens, it’s part of it. They’ll be fine.”

When you confess you’re scared you might hurt him one day, he laughs, squeezing you tighter, “Are you kidding? I’d let you kick me in the chest if it made you feel better. You’re strong, yeah, but you’ll never hurt me. I trust you.”

HWANG HYUNJIN

Hyunjin finds you beautiful when you fight—focused, powerful, graceful. He records every match, borderline artistic about it, muttering, “God, you’re gorgeous like this.”

When you panic after knocking someone out, Hyunjin’s dramatic but in the best way—he takes your face in his hands, whispering, “Look at me. You’re fine. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re not dangerous, you’re amazing.”

If you worry about hurting him, he kisses your forehead, smiling softly, “You could never hurt me. Even if you tried—I’d just let you because it’s you.”

HAN JISUNG

Jisung brags endlessly, “My girlfriend could literally murder you with one kick, so don’t even look at her wrong.” He’s your loudest supporter, screaming himself hoarse at every match.

When you knock someone out and panic, he’s instantly there, rubbing your back, babbling reassurances, “Babe, hey, it’s okay, they’re fine, you’re amazing. Do you know how hot you looked? Okay, maybe not the time, BUT STILL.”

If you worry about hurting him, he grins, tugging you close, “Hurt me? Baby, you’d have to try way harder. And honestly? Kinda hot if you did.”

LEE FELIX

Felix is the softest supporter—cheering, clapping, holding your bag between matches, eyes sparkling with pride.

When you panic after knocking someone out, he immediately takes your hands, kissing your knuckles softly, “Hey, it’s okay, love. It was clean. You didn’t mean to hurt them, and they’ll be okay. I’m so proud of you.”

If you worry about hurting him, Felix shakes his head, smiling, “You could never hurt me. You’re too careful, too kind. And even if you could—I’d trust you anyway.”

KIM SEUNGMIN

Seungmin is smug about it, smirking every time someone asks if he’s scared of you, “Scared? Please. She’s talented, not reckless. I trust her more than anyone.”

When you panic after knocking someone out, Seungmin is blunt but comforting, “It’s a contact sport. You did exactly what you trained for. Don’t overthink it.”

If you worry about hurting him, he snorts, kissing your hair, “Baby, I’d let you kick me if you needed to. But you won’t hurt me—not unless I ask for it.”

YANG JEONGIN

Jeongin is SO PROUD—he’s the guy yelling, “That’s my girlfriend!” across the venue. He loves how strong you are, constantly teasing, “Think you could take me down in three moves? Bet you could.”

When you panic after knocking someone out, Jeongin is surprisingly gentle, wrapping his arms around you from behind, murmuring, “Hey, hey, don’t cry, baby. They’re fine, you’re fine. You’re amazing.”

If you worry about hurting him, he grins cockily, “You could try, angel, but I’d probably just pin you down first. Wanna test it?”

⸺⟡⸺

🥋 anon, you absolute legend—thank you for dropping this badass, soft, perfect prompt into my lap. taekwondo reader brainrot?? chef’s kiss. I love you (and your cool sport) for it 💋🦇

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🫧 ANON LOGGED: “songwriter soulmate brainrot”

🫧 ANON, HELLOOO—YOU BEAUTIFUL, SOFT, ROMANTIC SOUL. oh my god, this prompt?? this is gorgeous. the idea of writing songs that are basically coded love letters to your vampire soulmate, burning them onto a CD just for them?? obsessed.

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 VAMP!SKZ x MUSICIAN SOULMATE

BANG CHAN

Chan listens to the CD alone the first night you give it to him, sitting by the window with the city lights spilling in. He doesn’t move for the entire runtime—just sits there, fists clenched, jaw tight, because every lyric is about him.

When you walk in, worried, he turns, eyes wet but smiling, holding the CD carefully like it’s holy. “You wrote this for me?”

When you nod, he pulls you into his lap instantly, kissing you so softly it makes you dizzy. “You don’t know what this means to me, baby. I’m keeping this forever. A thousand years from now? I’ll still be playing it.”

LEE MINHO

Minho pretends he’s not emotional—at first. He just slips the CD into the player, sits back with his arms crossed… but the second the first chorus hits, he’s frozen, eyes locked on you.

He doesn’t say anything until the last note fades, then he stands, crosses the room, and cups your face gently. His voice is low, soft in a way only you get to hear: “You wrote me into eternity, sweetheart. That’s the kind of love people kill for.”

He kisses you deep, lingering, almost reverent.

SEO CHANGBIN

Changbin cries halfway through the second track. Full-on silent tears. He tries to wipe them away quickly, but you catch him.

He laughs, embarrassed, holding the CD case to his chest. “No one’s ever loved me like this. No one. I don’t deserve it—but I swear, I’ll spend forever trying to be worth every lyric.”

Then he kisses you hard, lifting you into his arms like he can’t get close enough.

HWANG HYUNJIN

Hyunjin is a mess—he cries openly, no shame, hands trembling as he follows along with every lyric like it’s scripture.

When it ends, he buries his face in your neck, whispering, “You don’t understand—I’ve been alive for centuries, and no one’s ever… no one’s ever done something this beautiful for me.”

He kisses every part of you, soft and lingering, whispering between kisses, “I’ll never forget this. Not in this life, not in the next.”

HAN JISUNG

Jisung listens with headphones on, and has to stop halfway through because he’s so overwhelmed. He turns in his chair to look at you, completely undone, cheeks wet.

“You… you wrote all this because you love me? You really love me like that?”

When you nod, he laughs through his tears, pulling you into his lap, kissing you all over your face. “I’m never taking this CD out of my player. Ever. This is ours, forever.”

LEE FELIX

Felix cries immediately—the softest, happiest tears. He holds the CD with trembling hands, whispering, “No one’s ever loved me like this… you love me enough to put it into music? Just for me?”

He hugs you so tight you almost squeak, kissing your forehead over and over, murmuring, “I’m keeping this forever, love. Even when I’m dust, I’ll find a way to hear you singing to me.”

KIM SEUNGMIN

Seungmin is quiet as he listens, face unreadable—but when it ends, he stands and pulls you into his arms, holding you so tight you can feel his heartbeat racing.

His voice is low, strained with emotion, “I’ve been alive for over a century. People have written sonnets, poems, vows… but nothing has ever made me feel the way your songs do. You’re it for me. Always.”

YANG JEONGIN

Jeongin tries to keep his usual cocky grin, but it falls apart halfway through the first track. By the time the CD ends, he’s holding your face in both hands, looking at you like you hung the stars.

“Do you get it? You just gave me something I’ll keep for the rest of my life. Hell, every life after this. You’re mine now—don’t even think about running, angel.”

He kisses you so deep it steals your breath, whispering between kisses, “Forever. You’re stuck with me now.”

⸺⟡⸺

🫧 anon, you absolute romantic—you just made my entire heart soft with this prompt. a CD full of love songs just for them? that’s the kind of soulmate stuff vampires would worship you for, and you know it. thank you for blessing me (and them) with something so tender it hurts in the best way 💋🦇

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ANON LOGGED: “pledged loyalty & succubi curiosity”

OOO HELLO NEW LOYAL SUBJECT—WELCOME TO THE CHAOS! first of all, your pledge of undying loyalty?? accepted with a bow and a bite, i adore you already. 🩸

sadly, 🪼 is taken (jellyfish anon supremacy lives on), but you can totally pick another! here’s a few fun suggestions just for you:

🦂

🪞

🐢

🐬

🐟

🦀

and now—succubi in the vamp!SKZ universe? hell YES they exist👀. i've mentioned that other creatures do exist in this world, and the answer is probably in some ask dump, but I don't remember in which one.

HOW THEY’RE HANDLED:

Chan’s empire doesn’t usually mess with them unless they’re violating scent or mate-bond laws. Chan’s stance is: “as long as they’re not draining humans to death or messing with bonded pairs, let them live.”

Minho fucking hates dealing with succubi—he’s had to hunt rogue ones who target bonded vampires, which is basically a death sentence. He’s elegant but brutal with enforcement.

Hyunjin and Felix are weirdly chill with them, almost respectful, because succubi feed on lust but rarely cross certain moral lines unless pushed.

Seungmin is the one who negotiates contracts or truces with them when needed.

so yes, they exist—just rare, tightly monitored, and absolutely terrifying when they do decide to get involved in vamp politics.

AND ANSWERING THE QUESTION I KNOW YOU PEOPLE WILL ASK:

If you’re wondering—“could vamp!SKZ ever be with a succubus?”

The answer is a hard no.

Just like witches and vampires can’t truly bond, succubi and vampires cannot form soulmate or mate-bond connections. Vampires are biologically locked to their soulmate bond, which is exclusive, magic-bound, and once-in-a-lifetime. Succubi feed on lust and temporary connections, which directly clashes with a vampire’s need for permanence, trust, and true-bonded feeding.

Even for casual encounters? Nope. Most succubi won’t risk a vampire’s scent-bond instincts—it’s dangerous, even fatal, to mess with an unbonded but scent-imprinted vampire.

So, nope—succubi are fun for lore, but SKZ boys only ever get feral for their true bonded soulmates.

future-emoji anon, thank you for pledging your undying loyalty and immediately hitting me with a feral lore question—you’ve got taste. choose your emoji and come again, love you 💋🦇

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CONGRATUFUCKINGLATIONS, YOU FILTHY LEGENDS, YOU MADE IT TO THE END. 🎉🩸

yes, you. forehead kisses (only with consent, i’m not a monster), and cookies in SKZOO shapes for everyone. 🍪🐰🐥 go stream R-3 right now—I’m not asking, I’m threatening.

also, might update my pinned post soon so you can find my music easier (and yes, I’m heavily debating the patreon idea because y’all are degenerates who’d probably eat that up).

on another note? I’M PISSED OFF. had to buy a damn poncho for Saturday because apparently it’s going to rain—wtf is this country’s weather, i’m fighting the sky itself.

anyway, send more asks, feed this whore, Wreck Me Wednesday is coming later today.

love you 🦇💋

[comehereoohlala]

let me see you

summary: it's a scorching summers day in new york, your boyfriend (a man notorious for hating parties) is insisting you attend a pool party with him. it's only your worst nightmare.

rating: explicit (18+)

tags: fem!reader x hozier. tw body image issues, anxiety, mutual masturbation, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, (the smut takes a couple thousand words to get there but i promise it gets there)

words: 5,238

note: ah! i feel like i have so much to say about this fic! thank you @uprightpillar for beta reading the smut for me you are the best!! the rest has not been beta read, we die like the poor thing in the road! and biggest thank you ever to @man-i-love-fanfiction for the prompt, this is for you, love you. but like always writing is my diary so this became very personal for me as well... sorry lmao <3

fic under the cut ❊

When you were 9, you started to realise you didn't look like the other girls your age. You stood out more in pictures, took up more space in the confined space of the picture compared to all of your friends.

When you were 13, you went behind your mums back to try on a bikini in a change room. And when the reflection staring back at you didn't match the reflection of the pretty, cool, older girls you always saw on the beach, you couldn't get it off you fast enough.

When you were 16 and finally the age of those pretty, cool, older girls, you knew you were the complete opposite of them. They were so perfect, almost as if they had been pulled straight out of a magazine.

You bought your first bikini when you were 17.

You didn't wear one outside of your bedroom until you were closer to 20. And even then, the shorts had to be high waisted, and you would only wear black. Nothing that made you stand out more than you know you already did.

When you were 20, you became convinced you were completely unlovable, entirely unattractive. Maybe some might say you were dramatic, but it was how you felt.

But when you were 20, Andrew came along. He was 24, crooked teeth, messy long hair and the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen. He had been on tour in your country, staying at the hotel right around the corner from the coffee shop you worked at. You called off everything and came into work everyday just with the hopes he would come back. And he did. Four days in a row.

On day two, his hand brushed over yours when you passed him his coffee and you nearly dropped it all over him. On day three you took your sweet time making his order, especially considering he had ordered coffees for all the people with him, it gave you a good excuse to listen to his voice as he talked to those with him and before you knew it you were completely head over heels.

On day four, you finally, properly talked. He told you he was a musician and it was his last day here. He stopped being a gorgeous mystery boy and now had a name that suited him perfectly, and you instantly wanted nothing more than to spend a lifetime saying it. Your best friend Charlie had written your number on the coffee cup you gave him, and you were too busy memorising every inch of his face one last time to even notice. But he had messaged you almost straight away, asking if you wanted to meet up when your shift ended. You had never said yes to something quicker.

But it couldn't work. He didn't even live in the same country as you. And your lives were just too different. You stayed friends for five long, painful years, growing closer and closer as time went on.

Until just over a year ago, when you couldn't hold all the love you had for him in any longer, and turns out neither could he. That was when you were 25.

Now here you are, at 26. It's a hot summer day in New York, where you've been staying with him while he finishes some music with producers and does some face-to-face meetings and work with his label.

But today is a scorching Saturday, and one of Andrew's friends that lives here is hosting a big pool party. Lots of people he knows, but also people he doesn't know. And Andrew will be the only person you know.

"Coffee for you my darling," he says softly, coming up behind you and passing you a the hot cup, his now free arm wrapping around your waist before pressing a kiss into your neck. You're leaning against a fence near the coffee shop, watching the people in the park. The families and young kids, the couples on picnics, the groups of friends. Trying to calm your mind, but it's going a million miles an hour. You instinctively pull your shirt a little, trying to stop it from hugging to you.

"So… how much of a pool party is this pool party?" You ask, bringing the coffee cup to your mouth.

"Ehm… what do you mean?"

"Well I don't have anything to wear like in a pool. I didn't bring anything with me."

"Oh…" he thought for a second, "yeah I probably don't either."

Yes, you thought to yourself. Now he'll suggest that we just don't go and have a quiet day togethe-

"Well it doesn't start until around 4, why don't we go shopping?"

What. This man despises social gatherings, you can't count how many times you have snuck out early of parties and dinners. No one complains more about them than him. He will normally take any bait you give him as an excuse to not go, which is what you were expecting to happen. But now he wants to go shopping? Just so they can go?

"Well… I mean…"

"Come on," he takes your hand, "there's heaps of little shops around here and we really do have to go to this today. He did a lot for me when I put my first album out, but he's a busy guy and this is the first chance I've had to see him in ages. Please baby. I know you don't know these people but I promise they'll love you, it's impossible not to."

You nod and he smiles, so big and wide, and there's a mischievous little glint in his eye. "Can I pick?"

You're standing in a shop, staring blankly at the wall of bikinis in front of you. Andrews hand in yours, and you look over at him, his eyes scanning his many options; he's thinking carefully, taking this very seriously.

He let's go of your hand and starts to grab a couple. A red set first, then pink, some patterned ones of lots of colours, a brown set, a dark blue, one that is beaded with seashells.

You leave him be, and turn your attention to the array of cover ups and sundresses. You have no intention of being seen in a bikini in front of anyone but Andrew, and even then, that thought makes your stomach turn a little. It's been a while since he's seen you in something like that. Even in the bedroom you prefer the lights a little dimmer, and recently you'll keep your top on until he is practically begging you to let him tear it off you. And a bikini is different. Especially when you're surrounded by other people. It just makes certain things more obvious.

You decide on a white, short, flowy, throw over dress, and you turn around to see your boyfriend carrying probably more than twenty options for you. Bikinis and one-pieces.

He smiles when he sees your face, "I think I got a bit overwhelmed. So many choices. And you'd look so good in all of them."

You shake your head, force a smile. Your mind continues to race. He's lying to you, he's just being nice. He knows you don't feel confident and he's just trying to be nice.

"Let's see what you've got there mister."

He dumps them out onto a nearby display table. You start to shuffle through them and put them in two piles, he rests his head on your shoulder. "I love the brown one, you always look so gorgeous in brown," he says softly, pointing to it, "if I can only pick one, I think that's the one." You see how low the bottoms must sit, so different to the high waisted ones you normally wear, but you pick them up anyways. Maybe you won't wear them today, maybe a day that's just the two of you.

You get him to pick another and he happily does; this time he's toying between a simple olive green and a white with what looks watercolour flowers of a variety of colours.

"Can't do strapless," you say quietly, trying to hide your embarrassment.

But he just dropped the white one, not making a big deal out of it. "Good thing I love you in green," he smiled, leaning in to kiss your cheek. "What do I have to do to get you to try them on for me when we get back?" He whispers in your ear, his voice so low and desperate just from imagining you wearing these is enough to make you feel like mush.

You smile, deciding to tease him back, leaning in and whispering, "I will… if you let me braid your hair for tonight."

"Done."

You took the brown and green ones from him, and waited until his back was turned putting away all the others he had picked out while you quickly checked the sizes.

"Hey Andy," you called him back over, "can you um… can you get me a bigger size in this one?" You passed him the brown, "I can't reach up the top."

"Yeah course," you watched him shuffle through the rack. Twice.

"That's the biggest size isn't it?"

He looks at you, "I can go ask if they have any out the back?"

"Please don't. It's fine. I don't need two anyways."

He goes to say something, but you just take his hand and walk over to the register. You're so embarrassed. His words ring in your ears, I love the brown one, you always look so gorgeous in brown.

You've killed the mood and you know it and you hate it.

He tries to change the topic on your walk back to where you're staying, and you nod along as he talks, occasionally adding in a little comment, but never really more than that.

When you get home he makes you both lunch, but you're now so full of nerves about this stupid, silly, pool party that you can barely stomach anything. You feel like you're going to throw up over a pool party. You feel juvenile, you're 26, not 15. And that thought somehow makes it worse. That crashing realisation that you look nothing like the woman you had pictured being when you were 15.

You can feel him watching you closely, you can see the cogs turning as he tries to puzzle your thoughts together, work out everything you can't verbalise. That look behind his eyes you recognised all too well, that look he got when he was really thinking about a song he was writing, when he was reading, when he was trying to understand all of you, even the bits you yourself didn't understand.

He comes up behind you in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Will you try it on for me?"

"I don't know…"

"Please," he turned you around to face him.

Unbeknownst to you, Andrew was now a man on a mission, a careful, delicate mission he had come up with during your quiet lunch together. It had to be done right, he knew you well enough to know that this was much bigger than just a party or a bikini. What 'this' was exactly he was determined to work out, and even more determined to help you with. But he had to be gentle, and he had to let it come from you first.

He ran this hands down from your waist to your hips, pressed you a little closer to him, "please?"

You sighed in defeat, "Andrew…"

"I can finish the dishes while you go change. And you can do whatever you want to my hair. And you can pick my outfit. And I'll make us drinks we can have before we go. …Please."

"Fine," you breathe out, shaking your head, but you can't not smile as you do.

He kisses your neck, "yay," he says against your skin, and you smile again. You're not quite sure what you did to deserve him, someone who audibly says 'yay' at you agreeing to wear a bikini.

You change in the bathroom, having made the decision to shower and quickly shave every inch of your body. You exfoliate, moisturise. Anything you think will make you look better in it.

The olive green stares at you the whole time, it's as if it's taunting you. It's much bolder and brighter compared to the brown. You wish you had the brown. The one he loved and picked first. Second choice. Those two words ring in your mind. Ones that often did. What if you were his second choice? Maybe even his third? Or fourth?

You had known Andrew for so long. You knew of his exes, even met a few of them. You always felt like you looked so different from them. You would be blatantly lying if you said it never bothered you, it never snuck up in the back of your mind, that it never once made you hate what met you in the mirror every day.

You only feel worse when you struggle to get it on. You spend what feels like forever trying to adjust the straps so they fit, you spend another forever trying to fix it in the back, and then the front, just so it sits right.

When you finally stop, admitting defeat in your fight with the frustratingly small pieces of fabric, your eyes properly meet the mirror. What stares back at you is somehow worse than anything you were picturing in your head. Your heart drops. You cannot be seen in this. Not even Andrew, especially Andrew.

"Darling," you hear a knock from the door, "is everything okay?"

"Fine," you stumble out, voice shaking a little. You frantically try to wipe your tears but they won't stop coming. It's just like it was when you were 13, standing in that change room. Wishing the body you saw in the mirror wasn't yours. Asking why it was given to you. Your eyes find every imperfection, until you can't stand to look at yourself for another second.

"Just… um… I'll be out in a few minutes," you yell out, and pull on a jumper that he had left in the bathroom. He wore this jumper all the time. It was big, even on his tall frame, always coming past his arms. You loved it because you swallowed it you up, covered everything.

"Okay…" he responds. He's leaning up against the door, holding two glasses. "Ehm… I made gin. I'll just be out here." He puts the glasses down on the little table in the corner room. He sits down on the end of the bed and watches the bubbles in your drink, taking a slow sip of his own. His eyes wander to your array of things on the table, the notebook with the pink suede fabric that covers it, your black framed glasses, the unorganised pile of silver jewellery from rings to necklaces.

You have sunk down to the floor, unable to face the mirror even with your whole body covered. You lean against the wall, the cool tiles pressing to you as you fiddle with the sleeves of the jumper.

You're not sure how long passes, but it must have been longer than a few minutes, because he knocks on the door again.

"Please darling… just come out here."

The sooner you can get this over with — tell him some lie about not feeling well and that he should go without you — the sooner you can curl up in bed and wallow. You wipe your eyes, splash your face with some cold water, and finally open the door to the warm light of your bedroom.

He's sitting on the bed, leaning back a little, drink in hand. Sunlight seeps through the window on to his face, and your heart stings at his beauty.

"Hey," he gives you a sly smile, "I love it," he gestured to the jumper.

"Not funny," you shoot him a look.

He puts his drink down, holds his hands out to you, "come 'ere."

"I'm not in the mood Andrew." But you still walk over to him, and he takes your hands in his.

"Let me see," he says, so quietly, so lovingly.

You let his hands slowly drift to the hem of the jumper, his fingers slowly curling into the fabric with the clear intention to pull it up, but your hands hold it down, and you shake your head.

"My love," he looks up at you, his hand finding your thigh and his thumb slowly moves up and down. The feeling is grounding, his hand is cold from his drink. You are here, right here, with the man you love you tell yourself, and your breath comes out more shaky than you would have hoped. "What's going on?"

"Uhm…" you want to tell him, you really do. You want his reassurance. You want him to wipe away your tears. But the words refuse to leave your throat.

He squeezes your hand, "it's okay-"

"I can't show you," you blurt out suddenly, "I can't let you see… because… because I'm scared you'll see me... you'll see me and you'll realise… and… and you'll stop liking me."

He shakes his head, firmly, eyebrows furrowed together, but his eyes still soft. "What would make you think that?"

You shrug. You suddenly want nothing more but to sink into the jumper and run back into the bathroom. Hide and never be seen again.

"I've seen you before darling. More than times than I can count. And you know how I feel about you."

"No Andrew. No you haven't. Not recently. Andy…" your voice starts to shake, "…you could have anyone. Why would you stay with me?"

He never looks away from you. "Because I'm in love with you. I fell in love with all of you. Your kindness, your strength, your mind, your body. I love all of you, and I think every inch of you is beautiful. Beyond beautiful. Just picturing you…" he brings your hand down and your eyes follow to the growing strain in his pants, "just from sitting here, waiting for you, imagining you," his voice is lower now, an undertone of desperation.

"Let me see you," he nearly whispers. The request is so gentle, so tender. You know he won't mind if you say no.

But when his fingers find the hem of the jumper again, you don't stop him from pulling it up. You squeeze your eyes shut, you can't bare his reaction. He hasn't seen you, in full light like this, for months. You haven't let him. Your chest feels tight, your body telling you there is no where near enough air getting into your lungs right now.

"Shh," you hear, and your eyes snap open, meeting his again. "Breathe, just breathe baby. It's just me."

Your arms instinctively go to cover your stomach but he takes your hands before they can, his eyes scanning over you as if he is committing you to memory.

"I… uhm… I think the brown would have been better," you finally manage quietly, breaking the silence.

He looks at you, snapped out of his trance, "no…" his fingers slowly tracing over the fabric sitting up by your hips, "the green suits you… compliments you." His other hand moves to your face, tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, "…it reminds me of you. God… you're so beautiful. Did I say that yet?"

You smile a little, tears stinging your eyes, fiddling anxiously with his hand. He stands up and you tilt your head up to look at him.

"Sit down for me baby," he orders gently, and you follow without hesitation. Arms instinctively crossing over your body when you do.

He looks down, reaches to the back of your head and takes out your hair, slipping the hair tie onto his wrist. You watch, dazed, as he sinks to his knees before you.

You shiver at the feeling of his fingers gently, slowly moving up your left leg, his lips doing the same, as he trails kisses from your ankle to your thigh, before repeating the same on your right.

He took your hand next. He kissed each finger, then your palm, your wrist, up to your elbow and all the way to your shoulder. Stopping every now and then at the odd scar or freckle for longer.

He's still on his knees, but at eye level with you now. He kisses every pimple scar from your bad acne days when you were a teenager. Lips find your nose, then your lips, his tongue fits perfectly in your mouth. He wants all of you, every inch. Because he needs you to know how much he adores every bit of you. You can feel his hands on your back, whilst yours curl into his hair. He fiddles with one hand at the slightly flimsy clasp holding your top on, you feel it drop onto your lap, and he quickly tosses it to the side, never once breaking your kiss.

His hand moves to cup one your breasts, "You know…" he starts, a little smile growing as he does, "sometimes I like to think they were meant for me… the way they fit so perfectly in my hand," he says between soft quick kisses, and you can't help but giggle a little. His kisses trail to your jaw, and you lean your head back, your body relaxing and leaning into his touch the more he goes on.

"Lay down," he breathes against your collarbone, and you don't hesitate.

You watch as he crawls on to the bed, his hands by your shoulders to hold himself above you. He continues at your collarbone, and you sigh beneath him as he continues pressing his lips to your breasts. He kisses every stretch mark, teeth dragging where he knows you are extra sensitive, and you can feel his smile at every noise you make. His fingers roll over your nipples, and you squirm underneath him.

"Andrew," you breathe out, "please."

He looks up from where he has been comfortable against your chest for the past few minutes, "patience baby. Patience." He doesn't break eye contact as he goes back to kissing you, making his kisses painfully slower, dragging out every movement.

He's finally moving down your sternum, and your anxiety starts to rise again. "Andy," you say quickly, "stop."

He halts his kisses instantly, looking up at you, face twisted in concern, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just…" you feel so exposed, you want nothing more than to hide.

He reads right through you, takes your hand, "you're okay. I promise. Let me love you baby, let me show you how much I love you."

You relax again and nod, holding onto his hand tightly as he continues moving downwards with his kisses, taking extra care to show his affection to every newly formed stretch mark that you had taken great lengths to hide from him.

You had been unable to bare the thought of anyone seeing them, not even Andrew, not until they had at least faded a little. And yes, no matter how many times you told yourself that they were normal, that it was nothing to hide or be embarrassed of, it never really stuck. The voice in the back of your mind fulled by the words of girls from high school, of jokes from ex-boyfriends and comments from 'friends', meant that you could never fully accept any of your countless repetitions of self-love to be true.

He made his way down further, pausing to trace each line gently with his finger tip. The darker ones, the more faded nearly invisible ones. Your eyes sting, you squeeze his hand tighter.

"I love you," he breathes against you, ever so quietly, kissing you again. "I love you." You hear him repeat it over and over. Like a mantra or a prayer. Your head falls back as he moves to your hips, a tear rolling down your face.

He lets go of your hand to move off the bed, getting back on his knees. Slipping his fingers into the green fabric still sitting on your hips, pulling it down as slowly as he can. You watch as he quickly ties his hair back, held in place with the hair tie he had removed taken from you earlier.

He brings his attention back to your hips, kissing along your pelvic bone, one of his hands resting on your upper thigh. He works carefully, lips brushing against your hair, but never going further down where you ache for him. Moving along to your inner thigh, he effortlessly pulls you further down the bed to be closer to him, before guiding your left leg to rest on his shoulder.

He kisses up your inner thighs, reaching again for your outstretched hand as he does. His lips are so close to where you want him, need him, crave him, but never quite.

It's not until you're whimpering, begging for him, body squirming with need that his tongue finally runs down you, set on continuing his devotion of every inch of you. He knows with perfect precision what makes you scream, what makes you whine, what makes you plead his name over and over. He works with purpose, and the way he works… one might think he was sent to earth with the sole purpose of bringing you pleasure.

His nose brushes over your clit, and the sensation draws out a loud cry of his name. He grips your thigh in response, nails digging into your skin that you think for a second he might draw blood.

His finger slips into you, then another, his mouth and tongue still focused on your clit. Your hips thrust up involuntarily to meet him. He's going slow, dragging this out, it's perfect torture.

He's barely started when you feel his mouth leave you and you blindly try and reach for him in a desperate, almost pathetic, attempt to get him back.

"Look at me," he breathes. You pull your head up from the bed to look down at him.

You whine, "why did you stop?"

"I want you to touch yourself baby," he says softly, "make yourself feel good for me."

You stare at him for a moment. You just want his warm hot mouth back on you, his fingers curling perfectly into you.

"I want you," you plead desperately.

"Show me," he repeats.

You don't break your eye contact with him as your hand moves down to your pussy. The position you're in is awkward, not really what you would prefer for this. But you don't care, you don't want to stop looking at him.

He nods as you start to touch yourself, watching intently as you slip in two fingers, as your thumb brushes over your clit.

Just when you start to increase your pace he shakes his head. "Slow," he whispers, "go slow for me." You just nod, slowing down for him.

He never takes his gaze away from you, eyes dark, just like how they get when you ride him to oblivion or suck him dry.

"God," he moans, his hands fiddling with his belt, shrugging his pants down just barely enough so that he can reach his cock, using the hand still slick with you to touch himself. He's following your thrusts, timing them exactly with his own movements.

"My love," he pants, "you see now what you do to me, just by-" he cuts himself off with a low moan, watching you speed up your fingers, unable to stand the painfully slow pace for another moment. Especially now, watching him chase his own pleasure, seeing how close he was the second he touched himself. All from watching you.

You both keep going, he mimics your movements as closely as possible, until he can't stand not touching you for a second longer. He practically leaps at you, desperate to have your taste on his lips again, his hand stops stroking himself to hold you close to him, one hand on your hip, the other on your thigh.

You're already so close, that his tongue slipping into you again almost sends you completely over the edge. You frantically thrust up as his nose brushes over your clit again, and then again; he's toying with you, never giving you quite the right amount of pressure he knows you need. He stops moving and your fingers dig into his hair, holding his head in place between your thighs.

"Andrew," you beg, whining for him.

He moves his hand from your thigh to return his two fingers into you, just like they had been before. But at a much faster pace than he had been earlier. His fingers hitting where yours weren't able. He lifts his head up to see you, and he can't not smile at the sight of you, head thrown back in pleasure.

"This what you wanted baby?"

You nod, "don't stop. Please don't," you look down to give him a pleading look, your eyes meeting his grin and his beard covered in you. You watch him as he moves back down, lips and tongue latching onto your clit as he slips a third finger into you. It's almost too much, but it's the too much he knows you need.

His free hand has left your hip to stroke himself again frantically, and you can feel his fingers inside you almost trembling with his own pleasure.

One of your hands falls back onto the mattress to hold you up as your body starts to shake. Your fingers on one hand curl into the blanket, the other hand holding onto his hair like a lifeline. That feeling in your core growing, threatening to burst any minute.

You start to whine, desperate, pleading for a release and you can feel him smile. He picks up the speed of his fingers, tongue moving faster on your clit; only picking up his pace as your hips buck into his face frantically. You're holding and pulling on his hair so tightly that the bun he had put it in earlier is now a thing of the past.

He doesn't stop until he's sure he's gotten everything out of you, gently slowing down as your body relaxes, coming down from your high.

He eventually moves to lean against your inner thigh, looking up at you. He's still touching himself with as much fervour as he had been with you, quiet moans escaping his mouth. You brush a hand through his hair, down across his face and he never once breaks his gaze away from you, quickly reaching his own climax, his head falling forward with a cry of your name as he comes.

He beckons you onto the floor with him with his hand, too breathless to speak. He pulls a blanket off the bed, covering you with it as you rest on his shoulder. You both relax against the back of the bed, catching your breaths, hands locked together.

"Thank you," you whisper, bringing his hand to your lips. "You know… I think you're beautiful too."

He presses a kiss to your temple, wrapping an arm around you.

"I lied," he begins proudly, "there was never a pool party."

[s0nnysprings]

Hiii! Loved your marauders fic 😄😄

Please could you write something for Sirius and dyeing readers hair 😁

hiii sweetie! of course I can, I hope u enjoy <3

Sirius Black x reader. Modern AU (I suppose) CW: 18+ purely for the ~mildly suggestive~ content, fem!reader, james whining at the end, long hair sirius, sirius knows things, not proofread very hard

⋆˖°.𖤓𓄀🂾𐚁𓃗.°˖⋆

“Siri you’re getting it all in my ears!” You squirmed, giggling at his messiness.

“I’m just making sure you’re fully saturated like you said!”

You wriggled your head away from his gloved hands. 

“Okay okay! Let me go look.”

Sirius watched you fondly as you turned to see as much of your head as you could in the hallway mirror. 

“Looks good Siri, thank you!” You beamed at him, coming to stand in front of him. 

“Oh look.. we have some left over, looks like we’ll have to do yours too.” You teased, looking up at him out the corner of your eye. 

“Dolly we’ve been over this.” He chided.

“Pleeeeease just a teeny bit. A strand, just here.” You trailed off, kissing just behind his ear to punctuate your placement

“Dolly.” He warned, failing to hold in his smile. 

“Sirius.” You matched, going back in kissing his neck, being careful to keep your dye covered head away from his clothes, lest you stain his precious band tee. 

“Alright that’s enough,” he laughed pushing you back by your shoulders “ I will let you dye a strand IF!” he pointed at you before you could get too excited at the prospect of matching hair. 

“IF! I get to rinse it out in the shower with you.”

“I wash yours and you wash mine?” You proposed, wiggling your eyebrows at him. 

He chuckled at you, eyes showing nothing but love for you. 

“Yes love.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips before moving to tie up the rest of his hair, leaving out a strand at his nape right where you had kissed him. 

“Right, go on then.” 

You giggled and picked up the hair dye brush before promising you will not make a mess. 

Sirius knew he was never really going to be able to say no to you. Just like he knew the hair washing deal wasn’t fair work, and he knew you’d make a mess and he knew he’d clean it up for you. He’d move the heavens and the earth for you if you’d ask him. That’s just how Sirius loved. And so later, after a longer than necessary shower, and an even longer time getting dressed again, Sirius even let you take a photo of your matching strands and send it to his friends before he demanded you ‘sit and look pretty’ while he cooked you dinner. 

Prongs🦌❤️: PADS ARE U KIDDING ME

Prongs🦌❤️:I BEGGED YOU FOR YEARS 

Prongs🦌❤️:HOW DARE YOU 

Moony🌙😋: cute pads :)

Wormy🪱:James is actually shedding a tear rn. 

Wormy🪱: U broke him

[chara-james-crack-corner]

You're My Scarlet Letter

! Major Update !

—

What is "You're My Scarlet Letter"?

• An alternative DC universe on a "What If?" scenario featuring the Joker Junior incident, with Tim Drake being adopted by Jason Todd two years after thw incident, where Batman (Bruce Wayne) admitted Tim to Arkham Asylum to recover from the incident, following along to an original storyline / plot...

• It is a (hard) rewrite of the following fan fictions :

5+1 Times : Joker Junior Edition

Love Me (For Who I Was)

( Follow-up question / opinions / constructive criticisms may be submitted through the ask box— anons / anonymous asks are welcome—reblogs, comments, et cetera... )

—

The Update : Ark One | "When The Robin's Come..."

I have completed the planning for the first ark of this fic! Several things to say about that alone, but to start I wanna say this took me way to long to be satisfied with the first draft of the planning part...

I decided to name the first two arks with quotes that directly relate to not just Robin, but Tim (the poem being one Tim's Mother read at his grandmothers funeral, take the symbolism as you will), as it will be set up as a mystery for the characters, not the reader. Bruce and Barbara who need to solve the mystery of Red Hood (also playing as foils to one another in the way they are on different sides of the same coin. Or, more like, different sides of the mission.) while Jason works to solve the disappearance of Tim Drake ("Joker Junior.")

Of course, the reader already knows all this, but that makes it tasty, in my opinion. Knowing something the characters don't? Tasty. It also helps to paint the picture as you are fed pieces of information at the rate the character(s) do.

So, obviously, the point of view will be between several characters, those being: Bruce, Dick, Barbara, and Jason primarily. Cassandra Cain will also be included, of course, but her and Stephanie Brown won't get major roles in the story until after the first ark because of this arks focusses on those preexisting relationships Tim had as he "haunts the narrative" so to speak.

Tim himself will not be mentioned as Joker Junior in this ark, he will not even be appearing outside of mentions / name drops until the second ark, to build tension and because I think it's fun. Personal preferences and all. Deal with it. Author is an a$#hole.

—

The plot for the first ark will be a combination of:

Under The Red Hood (The Comic)

Batman: Under The Red Hood (The Movie)

And an original plotline / story

Evidently the timeline is all sorts of wack because Stephanie has just made her debut as Spoiler, Cassandra is currently new to being Batgirl, Jason is just appearing in Gotham as the Red Hood, et cetera... The timeline? Jacked. Don't even try to pinpoint anything because it is JACKED. And I like it that way.

However, the first ark will stray close to it's comic and movie counterparts and I will be picking and choosing what I wanna do. Yes, I have and do read comics. No, I do not care about canon because I do what I wanna do, y'know? I will try to characterize Stephanie, Babs, and Cassandra as close to canon to the best of my abilities though because they're the ones a who always get the short end of the stick in fics, if they're even included/ mentioned in fics.

I am looking to get this first ark out by Christmas, 'cause I like holiday drops like that, but it will take me a hot second to write and complete this draft while also working on planning for the second and future drafts!

—

I think that might be all..? Yeah, that's probably all. For now, anyways...

Again, if you have any questions, constructive criticisms, thoughts, opinions, et cetera... My ask box as well was reblogs and comments are open! ^^

[try-again-bissh]

"Imagine Being Loved by Me" Pt 10

Smoke X Annie X OC Sinners Fic

Modern AU

Posting two parts again today! Part 11 might be my favorite part I have written. I dedicate today's bathtub softness to dear @thebumblebeesworld enjoy, its soft and sweet just like you wow!

Word Count: 2604

Warnings: Much like Kdrama 10-11th episodes we have angst sorry!

Enjoy!

Day 13 of 16

“I didn't think I would have to remind you this but I'm not your woman Smoke, watch how you talking to me” 

He scoffs, yes, she was his woman. She had been his woman for a while now. “Given how often I pry my head out from between your legs I think I've earned even a little bit of honest from you” 

Cassie’s eyes narrowed sharply, “Ah that's it then? I let you drag your dick along my face, I swallow when you cum and suddenly I belong to you, you can demand answers from me?!” 

“Cassie..”  Annie tried to interject, not liking where this was heading at all.

“We more than just that and you know it. I didn't take you for a coward. You big and brave enough to run through me but you can't say shit that matters when it comes down to it.” 

“Y'all let's not do this” Annie stepped between them. 

“Stay outta this Ann” Smoke snapped. Cassie flinched, Annie didn't. She looked to the other woman, their eyes meeting briefly as Annie seemed to beg Cassie to calm down.

“Aye, don't fucking talk to her like that. That's your wife. It's me you mad at, not her. I'm the one that came up in here and I'm the reason for all these fucking fights. Don't you dare yell at Annie.” Her eyes were hard, tone firm and unwavering.

Smoke’s eyes darted to Annie, they softened as he looked over her for a moment before flashing back to Cassie. “If it's your fault, how you planning on fixing it huh? You so quick to take blame. What's your plan then?”

“Elijah c'mon now.” 

“No Annie, she had one foot out the damn door since we started this. She wanna act like I'm overreacting when she wanna pretend she don't give a fuck about any of this.” 

“You knew what it was before you laid up under me, Smoke. I told both of you I was here for a short time. I have a life in New York, my family, my friends, my community not to mention my fucking business. Everything you asking means you haven't listened to a fucking thing I've said since I've been down here” 

“You gon stop talking to me crazy” He demanded, Cassie scoffed in response, rolling her eyes. 

“No one is asking you to leave your life! I'm asking you to stop pretending you don't give a shit about us, stop acting like we was just having fun! That's what I'm asking” 

“We weren't just having fun! You happy?! And what now? Nothing.” She exclaimed, throwing her arms out.

 “Ain't shit changed. I am leaving in two days and y'all will still be here and still be married. That's it. End of. Entertaining anything else is foolish and naive. This whole conversation is a waste of my fucking time” 

Smoke's back stiffened sharply, like he had been stabbed. Annie held her breath. 

“I poured my heart out to you. Told you things only my wife and my brother know about me. Given you so much of me. All I'm asking is that you be real with me, with us. But you running scared like we not even worth a try. We a waste of your time” 

Cassie blinked rapidly, eyes and nose burning at the rawness of his voice. She turned away to face the windows, unable to look at either of them. 

“I guess I'm the bad guy cause I gotta say it. Ain't no room for me in your life. And ain't no room for y'all in mine.” 

She grabbed her bag off the table and made her way out the door, ignoring Annie calling her name behind her.

“Fucking bullshit” Smoke muttered, his jaw clenched tight teeth gritted. 

His wife didn't do this to him, nobody got him worked up like this. 

Cassidy could pretend all she wanted that she didn't feel something for them but he knew she did. He could see it, he could feel it.

Day 12 of 16

Annie leaned back in the tub with a deep content sigh. The water was just the right side of too hot, calendula, mullen leaves, peony and rose petals floating in the water, bubbles mounded up to her chin. 

She was with her last client till 8am. Labor started around 10pm, she wasn't fully dilated till 2am. Cierra was strong and determined and now her and Sasha had a beautiful baby boy. 

Annie was exhausted, Elijah usually always made sure to be here with her after a rough delivery but Cierra water breaking had caught them both by surprise. He was out with Elias meeting a new artist who wanted to do a residency at Club Juke. He wasn't due back till tomorrow afternoon. It's fine, Annie can decompress and relax on her own. 

“Annie? Smoke?” 

Annie felt her heart skip and a smile broke out on her tired face. She had forgotten to text Cassidy. 

“Back here!” She called out. The door opened not too long after, and like a beam of light in the darkness Cassie's smile appeared in the doorway. 

“Hi baby” she said sweetly. “Where yo husband at?” She leaned her arms at the top of the doorway, her tall, thick body stretched out. 

“He's gone, him and his twin out of town on business” 

“Oh. So you got the house to yourself and you pampering yourself. Amazing, good. You deserve it” she nodded approvingly. 

Annie giggled tiredly. “How's your clients, the lesbians?” Cassie asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorjamb. 

“Good, delivery was long and rough but baby and Mom were well and healthy when I left this morning.” 

“This morning?” 

“Yeah I didn't get in till 9.” 

“Oh my God, you slept right?” 

“Yeah, woke up couple of hours ago. My sleep schedule is fucked but it's alright.” 

“Don't worry about that now. Get all the rest you need. Have you eaten? I can't make you something before I head out?” 

“Head out? Why?” 

“Uh well I just thought, I don't know. I thought you might want to enjoy having the place to yourself. You look hella cozy” 

Annie looked up at her, “No, not at all” 

“You not hungry? I can make something fast, I'm not as good as you or Smoke but-” 

“I can eat later, come join me?” 

“Huh?” 

“Water’s fine and there's plenty of room, Elijah fits in this tub wit me that's why we got it.” 

Cassie's eyes practically glowed imagining Annie and Smoke in this bathtub together. 

“I'm sweaty and gross, I don't wanna ruin your bath.” 

“You can shower off and join me.” 

Cassie looked at the shower like she had never seen it before. Like her and Smoke hadn't pinned Annie to the wall inside of it just two nights ago. 

“You sure?” 

Annie nodded. “Hurry, please” 

After the fastest most thorough shower of her life, Cassie padded naked and still dripping wet over to the huge claw foot tub where Annie was still lounging. 

Cassie could feel Annie's eyes on her like hands, hot and everywhere all at once while she showered. It made her want to linger and rush to finish all at the same time. 

“I added more hot water” she said as she leaned forward. 

Cassie slid smoothly into the water right behind her. Situating her legs around Annie and wrapping her arms around her body. They sighed in unison. 

Pure peace and contentment. 

“You okay? You seem down?” 

Annie took a deep breath. Elijah was right Cassie could see right inside of them. She left nowhere for them to hide and they didn't want to anyway. 

“Most deliveries are hard. This one was long and arduous. I'm drained after each. I think this couple just hit close to home.” 

Cassie hummed. Her warm hands came up and began rubbing Annie's shoulder with such mind numbing pressure. 

“You wanna talk about it?” 

Annie thought for a moment. She wanted to keep this light, beautiful air around them. 

“Can you talk later?” 

“Yes, of course baby.” 

“Thank you” Annie turned and kissed her. 

“Can you tell me about your day?” Elijah was upset he didn't get to see you before he left. He said Sammie must be plotting against him” 

Annie felt Cassie's laugh vibrate through her, she smiled. 

“I'll be here when he gets back, he's fine. Elijah is so used to getting his way” 

“Don't I know it.” 

“Um, you also get ya way. Especially with me” 

“I have no idea what you are talking about about” 

“Ah yes you do! I have my bag packed, Pearl ready to hop in her car and come get me and you just turn to me with them big ass eyes and I'm Sat” 

“No clue what you talkin bout, really” 

Annie turned and looked at Cassie over her shoulder, her brown eyes rounded and wide. Soft with an edge of pleading. 

“OH MY GOD THATS THE FACE” 

Cassie pointed an accusing finger at Annie's face, her eyes wide with shock. 

Laughter burst through her, Annie couldn't keep the expression on. She did know, Smoke was the same. If Annie asked for the moon while looking at him like that, he would be calling Houston and getting to work convincing them to let him retrieve it.

Annie couldn't take all the credit, Elias had apparently primed his brother since childhood. Huge eyes and a slightly tilted chin and Elijah would fold, not even realizing it. 

She wondered if Cassie pouted when she didn't get her way. She was determined and confident unless made shy. Her and Annie hadn't had a single disagreement since they met, her and Elijah sure had. 

Her husband had a way of bringing out such interesting sides of people. 

Annie was taken from her thoughts by Cassie rubbing her hands with firm pressure down her arms. She took her right hand and began massaging her palms, working her fingers and wrist. Annie didn't realize the tension there until it was gone. 

Cassie repeated the same with her left, before bringing both hands up and pressing kisses to her palms. 

Care, affection and love in each press of her lips. 

Love 

Yeah. Annie thought Elijah would be the last to realize it but Cassie's resistance surprised her. 

They were in love. Annie loved this woman. 

From the moment she saw her photo she was drawn to her, falling further and faster when they met. 

Cassie had her and her man bent outta shape from the second she stepped into Clarksdale, and as the date of her departure loomed closer and closer Annie was worried. 

Cassie had made no mention of what things would be like when she returned home, and if the way she was still trying to give them space and be reasonable was any sign, they weren't going to love the ideas she had about their relationship. 

She's known she was in love for a while now, since Cassie was floating on her back in that lake looking like something out of a myth. Annie felt ready to shout it from the rooftops when she came home and found Cassie and Elijah asleep on the couch, Cassie's arms wrapped around him like a shield even in her sleep. Tears dried on his cheeks. 

Of the little hoodoo Annie knew how to practice, she threw bones often. Premonition was something her Granny said was innate and couldn't really be taught. The spirits either speak when you call or they don't. 

They spoke to Annie. When she found both her and her husband tripping and stumbling around behind a woman who seemed to be caught between running from them and eating them alive, she threw bones about it. 

Annie and Elijah were to heal her. Holes had been gored into the loving parts of Cassie, and filled with cement made of fear. She wasn't sent there for them, they were sent to her. Annie decided to love her with her full self, holding nothing back. 

Still somehow Cassie was a woman absolutely bursting with love. She loved Pearline like a sister and treated Sammie by extension with so much care and affection he had called to threaten Elijah to treat her right,  in his own soft Preacherboy way. Cassie understood the measure of devotion and chosen family, and gave with her whole heart. 

She walked into Mississippi very much her ownself, unapologetically Queer, voraciously Black and cast a spell over all of them. 

How were they expected not to fall in love with her?

A confession would send Cassie out the door, holding on too strong would make them lose her. Annie refused to let this kind of love be lost. They all deserved it. And it seemed Cassie most of all. 

Annie would love and be loving whether Cassie was ready to hear about it or not. Ready to acknowledge what was all around them at all times. Elijah was another story, once he realized his feelings it would be difficult to convince him not to tell her. 

Now in this moment, Annie could practically see their love in the air around them. She could definitely feel it. Her eyes fluttered open, and she sat up slightly to look at Cassie over her shoulder. 

Her eyebrows rose slightly and she waited patiently to see if Annie would speak. Annie turned in the water and laid her head on Cassie's shoulder, her arms closed around her. 

It didn't matter, fear didn't matter, logistics didn't matter, being practical didn't matter. She loved this woman and she wasn't going to let her go. 

“My sweet baby. You work too hard” Cassie kissed her forehead. 

Annie hummed the affection and care melting her exhaustion away. 

“You need a vacation, you can decide if Elijah is invited.” 

Annie giggled. Then a thought floated like steam into Annie's head. 

“I ain't never been to New York befo. Elijah neither.”

“Really? I think you would like it. Harlem has amazing soul food and in my unbiased opinion, Brooklyn is the best places on planet earth” Cassie replied with a confident flourish. 

She hadn't caught the hint yet, no problem Annie thought. “Hmm, what about Seneca?” 

“Huh?” 

“You live out there right? What's it like, you think I would like it?” 

“Umm it's beautiful I can say that much. Mississippi looks very different than that part of the country so I think on a purely aesthetics part you would enjoy it, but it's farm country ain't shit to do.” 

“I like farms, I like cows and old horses and I like farmers” she leaned up and kissed Cassie's chin. 

Cassie was quiet for a long moment. She did this often, she understood what was being said to her and then her doubts would turn the words around. Annie gave her the time. 

“Vacations are for having fun Annie, there's so much to see and do in the city. You can't go to NY and just go upstate, that's not New York. 

“You on vacation now and you're in my bathtub in my small town.” Cassie laughed. 

“That's different, I came cause I got people I care bout here.” 

“I got people I care about in Seneca too, a whole lot” 

Quiet again. 

Cassie huffed and squeezed her arms around Annie again leaning her head back on the rim of the tub. 

Soon. Maybe she would be able to hear it soon. Annie thought. For now she held her woman tight and let the steam and hot water melt her other worries away

Thnks for reading!!!

[agent-troi]

WIP Wednesday

so i've started working on a post-canon sanctuary fic that i'm really excited about and absolutely do not have time to work on, and i figured it would help motivate me to keep working on it if i shared a few snippets on here from time to time. normally when i'm writing i do it in mostly in order from beginning to end, but for whatever reason with this fic i'm jumping around and writing whichever bits i feel most inspired to write at that moment, so we'll see if any part of this snippet even makes it to the final draft😅 anyway here it is lol:

“But you knew I was up to something.” Helen ducked her head slightly, biting her lip. “You were right about New York, and Hotel Miraflores.” Ordinarily, hearing the phrase ‘you were right’ coming out of Helen Magnus’s mouth, directed at him, would have given Nikola a high he would have ridden for weeks, but at the moment he was too furious to care. “Yes, Helen. The operative word there being ‘something’. I didn’t know— I thought you were dead—!” His voice cracked on the last word, much to his mortification. He hadn’t cried since— he didn’t even remember. Since before he became a vampire the first time, definitely. For a while, he had wondered if it was actually physiologically impossible for vampires to cry. Clearly, that hypothesis was incorrect. “Oh, Nikola…” “Don’t—” He turned away as his vision blurred. “Did you think you couldn’t trust me?” “Of course not—” “Then why didn’t you say anything?” “I was trying to protect you! It wasn’t safe for you, or anyone, to know too much. Besides, as long as you were working for SCIU—” Nikola laughed bitterly. “So you didn’t trust me.” “I was going to say, as long as you were in a position that could’ve easily been compromised, any knowledge you had would’ve put you in danger. It’s the same reason I didn’t tell Will anything, because I knew Addison and the FBI could recall him anytime they wanted. I was going to send word to you as soon as I thought it was safe, but you didn’t stay with Henry like I hoped you would. You just took off— again.” The tremor in Helen’s voice on the last word almost made him turn around, but anger and remembered grief rooted him to the spot. “You never asked me to stay.” Her heels clicked against the stone floor until she was standing directly behind him. “Wasn’t it obvious how much I wanted you to?” “If you wanted me to stay so badly, why did you never say so?” Nikola heard Helen take a shaky breath. The sound of her racing heart thundered in his ears. “I was afraid— of ruining our friendship, of getting hurt again, of a million little things that I let matter more than they should have. Most of all… I was afraid of losing you. I still am.”

[intriq]

Laughing Jack fluff.... or angst/comfort!!! thinking about his abandonment issues when starting a new romantic relationship or even during a friendship, where he feels so attached but afraid and in disbelief if they have mutual feelings .... gah head in hands... give me my emotionally convoluted clown...

@bunnijuni hey come read this request i got abt ur fav

also hi guys! a year-ish since i posted on here! sorry about that, have had really big writers block over fics for generally everything this past year and i didnt get inspo to write until recently. my dc followers were probably not expecting my return oneshot to be about a creepypasta LMAO

but anyways i will be going through requests to hopefully get some of those done, and they are always open. so like, request away yall just understand i do now also work a full time job so i may not always have energy [and i will be away for the next few days!!]

anyways heres my rising from the dead fic. and keep in mind if this telling of Laughing Jack doesn't fit your view/narrative of him or you just generally don't like it, that is okay! but this is how i choose to write him so its like.. my own fanon/hc way for him.. man i havent written creepypasta in so long. and basically never laughing jack. so enjoy

There’s many things that, in the past few centuries, Laughing Jack has grown accustomed to. Loneliness, being one of them. A fitting fate many would bestow upon him, judging him for his sins that rightfully, he had. He was nothing but a childhood friend then, all colors and happy moments, now turned monochromatic monster. He was sadistic, yes. A killer of children. But, deep down, there’s those aches. Pangs of guilt that creep in his chest, when his facade is faded. Smiles and giggles, morbid jokes turning to repentance for the things he’s done. The smile is gone, laughter gone in a breath. And he disappears in the blink of an eye, like a puff of smoke.

He knows of the other killers that reside in the mansion, those with urges like he has. Though the urge is intrusive, not something he truly enjoys. After all, he’s killing children. The age of people he was once meant to be a lifelong friend for, until the child matured and outgrew him. Perhaps things would be different if it weren’t for Isaac.

You, though. You were something new, a new presence that had been lingering around the mansion for a little while now. Maybe a year, but he doesn’t truly care to track. All he knows is that you are new, like a shiny new toy a child would get. All his focus and attention is on you, learning about you and figuring out just why you peak his curiosity.

It’s small, at first. The way you laugh at his jokes, how he pays attention to what causes your smile. He pays attention to every detail like that, not realizing the softness in his gaze when he looks at you. It’s a subtle softness, one that no one else would notice unless they really paid attention.

Then there’s the days that he notices how close you two have gotten. The days of soft silence, the lack of distance between the both of you that is starting to no longer be casual. The comfort he begins to find in your presence. Those moments are when the gnawing in his chest grows, like there’s not enough room for him to breath besides in increasingly smaller and smaller breaths.

The moments he realizes that perhaps things are having the chance to change, always in those moments where he realizes, that he disappears. You could be sitting next to him somewhere, and maybe the way you rest on his shoulder is casual, out of close friendship. Or perhaps it’s out of you seeking to close the distance. Either way, it makes him self aware the moment he feels the weight of you on his shoulder. Makes him aware of the feelings that he can feel bubbling up, and it makes him afraid.

It brings back the memories of those years he spent alone in his box, watching and waiting for the day Isaac would let him back out. It scares him, the idea of that repeating itself again with you. And in the same moment he thinks those thoughts, he’s gone. You fall to your side onto the rest of the couch, no longer having him there to keep you upright. And he spends a few days away, inside that horrifically memory inducing box that reminds him of darker days.

It’s almost routine after that. Any time he thinks about it, he disappears. Avoids you for a few days, then comes right back like it has no effect on you at all each time he leaves.

[the-effect-of-chaos]

So I have been reading "My Loneliness is Killin Me (Baby)" and it has been stirring up my desire to write an Omegaverse cannon Divergence Steddie fic like gasoline thrown on a already lit bonfire.

So OF COURSE that means I have to brainstorm this fucker somewhere so I am taking you along for the ride.

We are making Omegaverse weird again and going back to the foundations of the genre. Slick butts. I love the new (I know not really new but still) take on Omegas and Alphas being intersex, and I certainly enjoy reading them but I have a craving that will not be denied so back to slick butts and butt babies we go. I have my reasons for this and it also relates to female alphas not having a Knot but a Lock (this comes from a conversation with my dearest friend Fishie a good few years ago about a series of books that use this concept that has never left my head)

Steve is a late bloomer, he has been unpresented through nearly all of high school and while he was with Nancy. Everyone is adamant his body is just biding its time before flooring him with a presentation rut the size of America because they are so certain he will be an Alpha.

Cue them all being wrong.

Post Season 2's week from hell for Steve, between his heart getting shattered, meeting and bonding the Party (his puppies), dealing with the Demodogs, followed by the plate to the head concussion and protecting the pups in their hairbrained plans for the tunnels. It should come as no surprise when he is thrown into the most painful presentation heat of the fucking century.

Following a second week from hell for Steve that was his heat, once he is lucid enough to breathe, think, and not just be trapped in heat and dreams (nightmares so many goddamn nightmares) his goes hunting for a solution to the nightmares.

Obviously that is going to inevitably lead him to Eddie. Eddie who is parked up after school off road in the woods on the trail towards Skull Rock and Lovers Lake.

I feel what is most natural to happen is something akin to Hidden in the Woods by @thepossummoldypasta EXCEPT as fairytale and incredibly cute as that fic is and you should absolutely go read the fuck out of it!!! my take will be different but the scenario similar.

Cue Eddie unintentionally getted dragged into Steve Harrington's life and the aftermath of UD shenanigans well before Spring 86.

I am considering the following possibilities as well for shits and giggles (I say considering like the liar I am all of the below will be appear):

Accidental temporary bonding (likely through being scent mates and getting scent drunk on a newly presented Omega/ the first Alpha scented post presentation heat)

The revelation of Steve's no good very bad never around Parents. And a whole lot of their treatment leading Steve to have issues with following his instincts. Because he was never taught, he never learned and now he is the complete opposite designation everyone and their dog seemed to be manifesting for him. Despite that he loves being Omega solely for the knowledge he can now have and build that family he's always dreamed of and he doesn't actually need anyone else to make it happen if need be (he will have pups with or without a mate social expectations be fucking damned, he was raised to be an Alpha so is very much aware of all he needs to protect himself and any puppies he has and not to mention raise any alphan pups on his own).

Since this is pre Robin the equally as heartbreaking revelation that Steve Harrington has no Pack besides the 3 puppies he adopted on sight during his first week from hell in 84. (Don't worry the other 3 puppies come later they are not safe from adoption).

Non-sterotypical A/B/O actions from Steve as an Omega*. I personally headcannon that Omegas are prone to going absolutely feral in the protection of their loved ones or pups. Like put an Omega’s pups into danger and they will rip, tear, scratch, spit and bite. They will fight as dirty and as scrappily as they need to in the defence of those they consider their own. * Additionally I like to hc that Omega’s obviously do not always come as the more petite or fragile even if that may be what is considered the most conventionally attractive socially. So let your omegas be built heavier, they are the capable of carrying pups after all, so they can have wider hips and thicker thighs but also broader shoulders for being able to physically carry the pups too. Let them be strong and capable.

Now with the above that means I also am considering to have bumbling over the top mother henning Steve while he gets used to his more over powering instincts. This means none of the pups are safe from forced grooming sessions and constant scenting and sometimes when required cuddle piling. Stevie boy is going to be completely succumbed to feeding and providing for all the kids much to the amusement of most of their parents (Ted Wheeler can go jump).

Dustin is going to cop it the worst, enter Claudia Henderson who takes one look at Steve and just force adopts him. They have a guest room that sits vacant and is more a storage space then anything, she starts cleaning it out the minute he leaves her place for the first time since she met him. Dustin both loves this idea and hates it because his mom is just as bad as Steve is without the instinctual driving force, so the idea of them all living together is both incredibly warm and cosy but also startlingly smothering (don't worry Dustin, Steve will get better once his new instincts and hormones settle down.)

Upside down fam wise I am adding Claudia and Wayne to the mix of genuine adults in the know. FIRSTLY In this fic-to-be Claudia is a former ER Doctor turned ObGyn, turned NICU nurse because the stress of the job got to her especially with all of Dustin's health scares as a kid. Therefore my reasoning is the UD fam need an on call medic who actually knows what the fuck they are doing. SECONDLY Wayne is potentially a Korean (will have to check dates and do some age calculations) AND Vietnam War Vet, he knows his fucking shit about war, about fighting in unfamiliar territory etc. Also I just want more adults who care about Steve in the know and able to support him. Don't get me wrong I Fucking ADORE Hop as Steve's Dad and I may have plans to include that too, but my boy needs all the adults love and guidance he can get.

And because I am an absolute WHORE for angst with a happy ending and hurt/comfort there will be plenty of emotional turmoil, physical Steve whump (he looks soo pretty covered in blood), mental and emotional torture followed by so much love - platonic, romantic, familial you name it.

It will probably be mid to slow burn Steddie if I am honest even with the accidental bonding. That is just going to force them into constant close proximity. They will dance around each others feelings for a while all whole procrastinating breaking the bond because if they are honest neither of them wants to. But I am too impatient to drag that shit out to season 4 events, so Eddie will likely lose his shit while Starcourt is happening and when he finds Steve probably while they are throwing fucking fireworks at the Mind Flayer, is going to stop the dancing real fucking quick when they are outside with the EMTs.

E:"I almost lost you tonight"

S: "I mean yeah but I'm fine?"

E: "Like hell you're fine Princess! You were fucking trapped and tortured by Russians and I would never have known what happened."

S "is this about the bond nearly breaking?"

E: "Yes this is about the bond nearly breaking sugar!"

S: "Sorry, I know they said it would hurt a bit but I figured it would be worth it for the freedom it would give-"

E: "and what if I don't want that hmm? What if I am happy with the way things are going?

[Cue Eddie's rambling fired up angry flustered confession that leaves Steve winded but warm. He never thought Eddie could ever really want him as a proper bondmate after they accidentally trapped themselves into a scent induced bonding. There will be confessions on both sides of long distance interest, yearning and pining since like they were puppies themselves because I can't help myself so I shall indulge myself decadently with all my favourite headcanons and tropes.]

And to finish off this 2 hour fucking ramble in the early hours of the morning, it will be titled Red Strings.

Because I am a romantic and live for soulmate content so I will be absolutely indulging in that too.

And if they end up with little red tattoo like marks that are two halves of a whole that appear when they accidentally bond well that's for me to know and you to find out.

UNTIL THEN I NEED FUCKING SLEEP!

[slayerdurge]

Durgetash Resurrection AU

"Is that...? That's my body. I remember now. The Morphic Pool. The Elder Brain, it... I was dead. What did you do?" "I made a deal... with Lord Bane."

[lunarharp]

love's shadow will surround - 6k T orufrey fic about a witch and a silverleaf

He's left the lights of his small house on, his tiny atelier, waiting - he likes to see the glint of it on the leaves, his light reach the tree here. Give him what he can. It's always a comfort.

But when his physical senses are dulled, it brings it all back like fog, the flashes of memory. Of that day, all of them around the twisted body. He cups a few straggling branches, letting the hurt filter through him, almost as if keen to. They called him the Witch of Light in those days, eulogise his work still - but that was his masterpiece.