#like… idk i just don’t really have the thoughts to express my words right now lmao i’m so tired

[solojihyo]

man what a time it is to be a desi kpop stan

[benevolentbones]

Haiii idk how to word this but basically season 10 spencer reid seeing reader in a backless dress nd hes all flustered but also really attracted to her ? idk if i worded this right sorryy

green dress | spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: mention of scar, uncomfortable body image! fem reader

word count: 1.5k

a/n: thank you for your request!! i hope you enjoy this<3 requests still open, im getting through them! reblogs n comments always appreciated <3

you’ve always been insecure about how you looked in dresses, especially backless ones.

a year or so ago when you were out on the field, an unsub had managed to corner you and stabbed you in the back resulting in a scar a few inches long that rested between your shoulder blades.

even before the incident you weren’t keen on showing off much skin, but now the scar made you even more self-conscious.

you often found yourself shying away from outfits that revealed too much, particularly those that might expose the mark left behind from that encounter.

the fear of judgment and the constant reminder of that day made it difficult for you to feel confident in anything but the most modest clothing, so when you went out dress shopping, and penelope pulled out a backless dress she could immediately sense your discomfort.

you were out with penelope and emily, using your very rare day off to go dress shopping for agent rossi’s annual ball he liked to host in his mansion.

a frown graced your features as penelope held up a simple dark green satin dress with a plunged neckline and, of course, it was backless.

emily noticed your frown, turning around in one of the many dresses she had tried on in the last hour. this one was by far the nicest, it hugged her nicely and the shade of red complimented her striking features.

“c’mon y/n, you’ll look so good.” emily hummed, smoothing down the dress on her form as she looked in the mirror.

“i- i don’t know guys- you know that’s not really my style.”

“oh but it could be- just try it on please!” penelope practically begged, shoving the soft fabric into your arms. despite your dislike for showing off your body, you knew this would make the girls happy so you obliged, stepping into the changing room and drawing the curtain closed.

penelope and emily waited anxiously for your return, still adorned in the dresses they were also trying on. penelope opted for a bright pink number, with many layers of tulle, very much her style.

you slid the curtain back, taking a step out and shuffling awkwardly towards the mirror where the girls sat. their expressions ranged from shock to excitement, penelope had a huge grin on her red stained lips.

“you look perfect!” she squealed out, adjusting her thick framed glasses to get a better look at you.

emily nodded in agreement, her dark eyes scanning how the dress hugged your form. “wow..you’ll be the prettiest at the party.” she chuckled.

you stood in front of the mirrors, turning slightly so you could get a look at how the dress sat on you. you had to admit, it suited your figure well, accentuating your curves. you turned to see the back of the dress, it cut rather low, stopping just before the small of your back.

your eyes flickered up to the scar on your back, you instinctively rolled your shoulder blades back. “i- i don’t know…” you mumbled out under your breath.

penelope shook her head. “you look amazing- you have to get it.”

still uncertain you sighed, “i feel so exposed- im not used to this.”

emily glanced towards penelope, a smirk turning up on her lips before she spoke. “that’s spencer’s favourite colour you know..” she muttered out half casually.

instantly you could feel a rush of warmth spread to your cheeks, the thought of spencer seeing you at the party in a dress like this made you nervous. you shot emily a fake glare which she returned with a knowing smile.

“so….yes to the dress?” penelope quizzed, eyes wide as she waited for your answer. you paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“fine..”

~

it was the night of the party. guests were arriving, music was blaring, derek and spencer were standing near the punch bowl.

as you walked in, you could feel the buzz of excitement in the air. the soft fabric of the dress clung to your skin, making you more aware of every movement you made. emily and penelope flanked you, their presence giving you a bit of courage.

you scanned the room, heart pounding, until your eyes landed on spencer. he was deep in conversation with derek, but as if sensing your gaze, he turned. his eyes widened slightly when he saw you, and a small, appreciative smile played on his lips.

spencer’s figure adorned a deep green suit, complimented with a black shirt and tie, the colour a few shades darker than the dress you were wearing. your eyes flickered away, as you whispered to penelope.

“did you know-“ she cut you off with a small smirk. a breath escaped your lips as you drew closer to the two men, emily and penelope not leaving your sides incase you decided to make a dash for it.

“wow you ladies look incredible.” morgan whistled lowly, penelope and emily as if on que, abandoned your side, linking arms with derek. “i’ll see you later lover boy.” morgan shot back to spencer as he lead the two women away from you.

spencer’s eyebrows furrowed at morgan’s comment, his gaze quickly fixing back on you.

spencer's eyes widened as they fell on you. his jaw dropped slightly, and a rosy hue crept up his neck to his cheeks. he fumbled for words, clearly flustered.

"y-you look... amazing," he finally managed to stammer out, his voice barely above a whisper.

you felt your own cheeks warm at his reaction, your heart fluttering. you took a step closer, your eyes meeting his, and you could see the genuine awe in his gaze.

"thank you, spencer" you replied softly, a shy smile playing on your lips. despite feeling so out of place and out of your comfort zone in the dress, the way spencer looked at you made you feel…confident.

he cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure. "i mean, —you always look nice, but tonight... you look... stunning."

the sincerity in his voice made your heart skip a beat. spencer, usually so composed and articulate, was completely gobsmacked, and it was all because of you.

his gaze shifted to the dress again, now noticing the low cut, how it showed off your back and the scar between your shoulder blades. he felt a surge of warmth rush to his cheeks, his breath practically getting caught in his throat.

"i, uh," he started, his eyes still locked on you, "i didn't expect... i mean, wow." he let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, soft brown locks falling over his face.

"it's just a dress…” you said, though you felt a thrill at his reaction.

"no," he shook his head, his gaze unwavering, "it's not just the dress. it's you. you're... breathtaking— you’ve always been breathtaking.”

his words left you momentarily speechless, the intensity of his gaze making you feel both exhilarated and shy. you took another bold step closer, your hands lightly brushing against his.

"spencer, i.." you began, but the words failed you. instead, you let your eyes speak for you, hoping he could see the effect he had on you.

he took a deep breath, his fingers trembling as they curled around yours. “—you’re- god.. you’ve always been so beautiful- and i should’ve said something earlier— told you sooner..”

your eyes widened as he spoke, the taller man taking a step closer to you, his hand resting at your waist, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin on the backless dress. your breath hitched slightly at his warm grasp.

“i— fuck.” he mumbled out, for once in his life spencer found himself unable to formulate a sentence, to describe how he felt about you. he had longed for you, for months, years even..and now he had the chance to just tell you.

your eyes flickered over his facial expression, the pale pink hue deepened as he brought his gaze back to meet yours. his dark eyes traveled down to your lips once more.

he wanted nothing more than to just kiss you right now, the way the light made your skin glow, how the dress wrapped around your body- the low cut back, it was all too much for him.

spencer leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. it was gentle at first, filled with the unspoken feelings you both had kept hidden for so long.

as the kiss deepened, you felt a surge of warmth and happiness, a feeling of rightness settling over you. his hands moved to your hips, pulling you closer, and you responded by wrapping your arms around his neck, losing yourself in the moment.

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea @thedancingnerdmermaid @khxna

[kkrymiii]

"No need to be sober"

G!p Kim minjeong x Fem reader

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

MDNI! (Not proofread!)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

CW: smut, pet names, drunk asf, mafia, no protection :0, perv minjeongie idk seems like it

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

At the mafia bosses party, in his mansion, her daughter named minjeong or winter, was having fun drinking and chatting with her friends, The mafia bosses daughter, just arrived at the party actually. Being late due to not wanting to attend... But then Suddenly something caught minjeongs eyes... SOMEONE to be exact.

Minjeong immediately locked her eyes at. You..

Winter walks over to you, slowly walking over to her, making eye contact the whole time not breaking once

“You are really pretty.”

Winter smiled, she got quite shy for a few seconds. "eh?" I replied shocked and awkward from the sudden move of a random girl on me. Winter keeps smiling, she looked genuinely interested in you “Your eye makeup is really good you know, along with your dark red lips.” Winter leaned towards you more.

but as I was about to respond to her.

"alright jeongie stop being a creep when your drunk leave the pretty girl alone" a sharped eyed girl, wearing a black dress that hugged her curves perfectly said. It was minjeongs younger sister. Minjeong gets yanked back, she was pretty wasted but she was trying to fight the urge to take another sip of her whiskey. She looked at her sister “But she’s so pretty, she’s very gorgeous, I could kiss her right now and she’d probably fall in love with me."

"your whiskey ass smelling breath probably would not be the best for her to taste.. anyways ma'am I apologize with my sisters actions" the younger sister said sighing STILL trying to yank minjeong but she wouldn't budge. Minjeong laughs and shakes her head slightly "don’t apologize, she’s very pretty, I actually thought she’d like me back.” She gets yanked back by her younger sis but she’s not resisting at all, she looks very dazed

"minjeong let's go father's gonna scold you again.." the younger sister sighed her patience running thin. “Ugh, you’re ruining my fun, she’s so pretty, I’m gonna kiss her, and she’s gonna love me, I’m gonna be her wife.” Minjeong keeps trying to get free from her sibling so she can go over to the beautiful girl. "What?.. your disgusting... you know father's no gonna allow you to date someone you just found at the party.... And who even is this girl... " The younger looked up at you scanning your face. You had a sheepish expression clearly awkward from the situation.

But then suddenly. Minjeong darts across the room again, to try and get to her, she has absolutely no control over how much she’s drinking so she’s pretty much wasted Minjeong finally manages to get over to her, and she immediately hugs the girl, and squeezes her in to a bear hug, the girl smells so good too, like pure honey.

"Ahh-.. I'm.. sorry are you okay?" You gulped not knowing what to do with this girl..your hands floating in the air, But for Minjeong it's the opposite. Minjeong is in heaven, she’s having the best time in her life. “Yes… yes I am… I am so drunk, but right now I feel like I’m in l-luuuv.” Minjeong says really slowly and drawn out, her words slurring together and her face is extremely hazy and red.

"Ah-.. this.. this face?" You muttured as you recognized the face. "Y...you.. are the mafia's boss daughter?" Minjeong slowly nods “Yeah… he’s the most amazing father ever, I love my sisters too.” She keeps squeezing her, she’s so comfortable, so comfortable to hold, she starts burying her head onto your neck. You couldn't help but giggle a little bit finding this girls words funny "uh-.. I'm sorry but..are you okay?..you seem really drunk." You said clearing your throat trying to be responsible now.

"I’ll be honest… I’m absolutely wasted but all I can think about is you. I love you." Minjeong keeps squeezing her tightly, and she hugs her close, pulling her into a embrace. You gulped looking at her as your eyes scramble everywhere. "Whaa- but we just met tho?"

“I don’t care… you’re mine now, I don’t care we just met, I just fell in love with you.” Minjeong keeps sniffing her and pressing her face into her neck more and more, she can’t get enough of her, she wants to be with her, kiss her and marry her. "wait.. how about let's go to the bathroom and wet your face.. you seem really drunk.. and your father wouldn't want to see you like that yeah?" You suggested. Minjeong sighs and pouts, she was absolutely infatuated with you, and she hated having to leave your side “Fineeeee!” Minjeong pouts as she finally lets go of you and walks into the bathroom, she was very grumpy and looked extremely disappointed. "uh! Wait don't walk like that you might fall" you said catching up to minjeong holding her as they make they're wait to the bathroom. Minjeong doesn’t fight, and lets herself be dragged along, she holds your arm and leans into you to keep you beside her “You’re so beautiful, I wanna kiss you.” Minjeong whispers at your ear, she’s being really clingy with her.

"What the hell does her father feed her." You thought to yourself but kept a warn awkward smile at her as you lead her to the bathroom. As you guys arrived at the bathroom, you immediately helped Minjeong, making her wet her face with water as you handed her a handkerchief. And this girl leans on the sink staring at you for a whopping 5 minutes Minjeong sighs, not letting you go as she lets you wet her face, when she’s done she looks up at you “.....ughh.... your so pretty, I want to kiss you right now, right here.” Minjeong leans in to try and kiss you with her whiskey drenched lips. " i- I don't think this is allowed.." you dodged it swiftly, backing up creating distance.

Minjeongs pouting gets even more obvious the more she gets rejected, she gets really jealous at the fact that she isn’t getting what she wants, she can’t stand the rejection "You have no choice… I want to kiss you.” Minjeong leans in again and goes for a kiss for the 100th time. Minjeong uses all the strength she has left and is completely force kissing this time, your lips just feel so good to her and she just wants to stay kissing them. Minjeong keeps going, pushing her body against hers, kissing you on the lips so aggressively. Minjeong keeps kissing her, but not a simple kiss, but a aggressive and possessive kiss, as if she’s saying mine to you, that she’s hers, and she’s not allowed to get with anyone else but her. Minjeong holds you even closer, not letting her go. She just gets more and more aggressive with the kisses and she starts to go deeper, it’s getting slightly obsessive and possessive, as if she’s trying to claim her as her own. Minjeong grabs your hips tightly and forces her closer

Minjeong goes even deeper, as if she’s trying to suck the soul out of her. “Mineee, mine I tell you, you’re mine mine mine.” Minjeongs lips are already slightly swollen and have some slight bruising from the intense kissing that she has been doing with you, but to her it doesn’t matter, she doesn’t let go.

Soon you were bent over holding onto the sink for her dear life as minjeong was ramming into her pussy with her dick.

"Fu- fuck! Better than I..ah.. imagined" Minjeong panted as she grabbed your waist drilling herself into you. You were taking it like a good girl. You could hear minjeongs babbles and heavy breathes as she's clearly drunk asf. "Baby baby!.. fuck... I'm.. I I want to fuck you until you can't remember anything" minjeong moaned as she leaned over still rocking her hips into you as she aggressively placed kisses all over your back, making you moan and shiver.

"Ah.. pleas..ee please minjeong" you moaned out as you already were seeing the stars. Why the hell was this girl so good with her thrust game!? "Hell.. yeah!.. haha.. fuck fuck.. I'm gonna Impregnate you" minjeong chuckled as she fixed your guys position. Lifting your leg up to her shoulders now hitting more of your good spots making you moan out loud losing control, as tears fell out of your face.

"Wah?! Fuck! Ah.. good! Too much!!" You cried out trying to grab onto something but ended up grabbing onto the sink again as you were getting fucked hard by the mafia's bosses daughter. You felt ashamed at the same time since you were also a daughter of a 'scary family' if you know what I mean. But seeing yourself get this submissive over another girl who was apart of another family that was apart of the mafia shattered your ego Abit... But who cares she's hot asf and good ay sex :3

"Wahh- shi shit! Slut.. I'm coming! Makei.. eu.. ah- my wife! Mineeee!" Minjeong moaned drool dripping out of her mouth as her thrusts became more harder. She was pulling out and then slamming hard as she can, clearly teasing. "Wh.. ah.. fuck hurts- pl..please" you cried out, even if you couldn't see it it was clear due to the hard slamming red marks were definitely being made.

"Coming! Ta.. take it all!" Minjeong said as she thrusted one more time, as she released in you filling you up. You could feel her cock twitching adding to the pleasure as you came too, your liquids mixing as you two rode it out.

Minjeong then leaned in to you laying her head on your collar bone inhaling your scent as she gently rocked her hips getting friction riding the release of you two out. As minjeong pulled out she looked down at you, her eyes softening as she pulled you into a hug.

"My wife... No need to be sober to fall in love." She muttured peppering your neck with kisses. You didn't know how to respond so you just carressed her hair letting her do what she wanted.....

And let's just say as you to fixed yourself and dressed yourself back up and went out of the bathroom. You and minjeong went separate ways, her with her friends and family and you with your friends and family too, you couldn't help ofcourse but stare at her direction and seeing from afar that she was definitely getting scolded by her younger sibling. Which she said was named ningning, and her older sibling named karina...

You couldn't help but giggle from afar.

[moonstruckme]

I am clean from sh for about 6 months now (yay me) and lately, idk why, I’ve just kinda been struggling with accepting my scars and the fact that I’ll have them probably forever and your writing is really comforting and actually helps, so I wanted to ask if u could maybe write something with Spencer helping reader feel ok with having them on reader‘s thighs?

totally understand that that’s a touchy topic and if u don’t wanna write it, I also completely get it, thanks anyway for even reading this xxx

Ahh yay you!!! Congrats baby, and thank you for requesting <3

cw: past self harm, some nudity that's really not sexual but they joke about it a bit

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You’re sweltering. D.C. doesn’t usually get very warm, but for the last week you’ve been on a streak of record-breaking temperatures that’s made your clothes stick to your skin and has caused even your perpetually chilled boyfriend to refrain from putting on his cardigan until he gets inside his work each morning. Just walking between your car and various air conditioned buildings is enough to make you consider moving to the Arctic. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping inelegantly down on the bed to peel your jeans off. “Can we turn the A/C down to sixty, please?” 

“Let’s start with seventy,” Spencer negotiates. You hear his footsteps stop halfway down the hall as he adjusts the monitor. “I think we still have some lemonade left, if you want some.”

“Ugh, yes.” You tear your jeans off your ankles with enough force to nearly send them flying across the room and sigh blissfully as the A/C kicks on. 

You change out of your sweaty shirt too, going for your pajamas despite it being hours from darkness falling. You have no plans to go out into that hellscape again until tomorrow. You hesitate over a pair of pajama shorts before slipping on loose pants instead, not quite as cool but still light enough to allow some air flow. 

“I love you,” you tell Spencer when he passes you your lemonade as you come into the living room, sitting beside him on the couch. Ice clinks inside your glass, which is already forming little beads of condensation. You have the urge to rub it on your face. “I mean, unconditionally, but especially right now.” 

“I’ll take it,” he jokes back, tilting his head back so his face is in the path of the A/C vent. When he looks up, he finds you pinching up the fabric of your pants around your knees, trying to create a pathway for the air to move up your legs. “Why are you wearing those?”

You know what he’s asking you, and you intentionally misunderstand. “I felt like it was pajama time. No way am I going outside again today.” 

“Right, but aren’t you warm?” Spencer tilts his head. He looks like a particularly cunning puppy, brown eyes soft and inquisitive.

“A little,” you admit. 

“Then why not wear something shorter?” 

“That’s awfully forward of you.” You do your best to give him a smile. It doesn’t stick around long in the face of your boyfriend’s serious expression, increasingly worried. “Maybe I don’t feel like parading my legs around for you.” 

You can see the cogs turning in Spencer’s brain, and the usually fascinating process is suddenly almost painful to watch. You know he’s thinking of what you refusing to wear shorts used to mean, how nobody ever thought anything of it because, again, D.C. doesn’t tend to get very warm. How evasive you were about it then, too. An uncomfortable weight settles in your stomach. 

“Is there a reason you don’t want them out?” he asks, and his voice is gentle but his gaze is unflinching. 

You try to hold it as you shake your head. “I’m still clean.” The words seem to take more air than they should. Your guilt and embarrassment are enough to choke on. “I promise.” 

Spencer nods. “I believe you.” 

His eyes don’t so much as twitch down to your covered thighs. Relief like a cool breeze passes through you. It’s no small thing, his trust in you. Not after you’d gone so far out of your way to hide the evidence of your hurt from him before. 

“But it’s still related to that, isn’t it?” He lifts his glass, taking a sip before wiping the corner of his mouth. You almost smile, picturing your boyfriend in an interrogation room asking questions with this same gentle tone and wide open, curious expression. You don’t think Spencer could ever be harsh. 

“Yeah,” you say. What felt like something private and humiliating a minute before you suddenly want to share with him. Spencer tends to have that effect on you; he makes divulging your most gut-twisting secrets feel natural and easy. “My scars just haven’t gone away. I don’t really want to see them.” 

Spencer’s mouth pinches. “You know they won’t ever fully go away, right?” 

“Yeah.” You sigh, but it doesn’t feel like letting anything out. “I know.” 

“They will probably fade, though.” His fingers circle your ankle loosely, calluses skimming softly over your achilles tendon. “Is it that you don’t want to see them, or you don’t want me to?” 

You rub your lips together. Shrug. “Both, I guess.” 

He tilts his head. Like your answer is expected, but nonetheless perplexing. “I don’t care if I see them,” he says. His hand coasts up your leg, over the fabric of your pants, until he grasps it by your knee. “Can I?” 

You nod. You know he’d let it go if you said no, but it’s not worth begrudging him. “Sure.” 

Spencer brings both hands to the fabric at your hips, and you lift your bum up off the couch as he pulls downwards. Your legs are happy to breathe, the cool air coming out of the vent even nicer than you’d thought it would be. Spencer keeps going until your pajama pants are balled up underneath your feet. 

“You really were hot,” he says. It’s neither teasing nor gloating, a simple statement of fact. His fingers come to rest at your ankle again, and it’s the only kind of warmth you’ll allow. “Is it actually worth it?” 

You look down at your thighs. Your skin feels better than it had covered up, but it’s also a physical reminder of things you’d rather forget. “I don’t know,” you reply. 

“I understand why you don’t like them,” Spencer says. When you look up, you expect him to be as stuck on your scars as you are, but he’s looking at your face. His stare is calm and unmoving, like they don’t command his attention the way they do yours. “But I think they may be with you for a while. It might help to start trying to get used to them.” 

You blow out a breath. “I want to.” 

“I know,” he says. Easily, the way he’d said I believe you. And you think that he probably does know. Spencer has things from his past he can’t fully leave behind, too. 

His forefinger moves slowly up and down the back of your ankle, an absentminded gesture for him and a comfort for you. Slowly, his eyes dip down to your legs. You fight the urge to squirm and hide. 

“You know,” he muses, “there’s actually one thing I sort of like about seeing them.” 

Your top lip starts to curl automatically, your brows pulling together. “What?” 

“Just, that they’re old.” Spencer seems not to have noticed your reaction. His gaze is contemplative. “I mean, it’s not that I’m looking for them all the time or anything, but it’s nice to see them and know there aren’t going to be any new ones. These ones will fade, and then that will be it.” 

Something new clogs your throat. It’s just as heavy as before, but far kinder. 

Spencer looks up at you. He looks sheepish, the corner of his mouth uptilted self-consciously. “Sorry, it’s a weird line of thinking. I don’t want you to think I’m always checking on them.”

“No,” you swallow, “I get it. That’s nice, Spence.” 

He shrugs. “It’s the truth.” 

You could almost laugh. He makes things so simple. “I’ll change into shorts.” 

“You don’t have to,” he says. “If you’re already cooling off.” 

“Oh, yeah?” You keep your voice light, grinning at him as you shuffle over to straddle his lap. His fingers brush over a couple of the lines on your thigh as he brings them around your back, and the sensation doesn’t make you feel as shuddery as usual. You hug him with your arms around his neck. “You’re cool with me just staying like this then? No pants?” 

“Not if you don’t want to wear them,” he says agreeably. 

You laugh and hug him harder. “Thanks,” you tell him sincerely. 

Spencer only makes a soft dismissive sound as he hugs you back. 

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

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

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

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

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

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

longer drabble under cut! <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

"Y/N and Jay."  

Wait. What?  

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

You blink. You must have misheard.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

While you're frozen in pure, unadulterated horror.  

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

You're screwed. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・��..・。.・゜✭・.・

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

lmk if you want to be tagged!

<3, addie

[baby-yongbok]

Mine - Kim Seungmin x afab!Reader

Genre: Smut Drabble/ Hard Thought - MDNI Word Count: 672

Warnings: Degradation, cursing A/N: My head is spinning right now, I found out that there are BDSM muzzles. (I'm buying one immediately) and then I thought about Seungmin saying that he should muzzle you and it all went down hill from there. I might turn this into a longer fic eventually idk but my brain was rotting with this thought. ✧ Masterlist ✧

Thinking about how Seungmin would act when he finds out that you, his best friend, has a Twitter account dedicated to posting lewd photos and videos of yourself. You told him about it on a whim while the two of you were watching a movie on your couch and before you knew it he was scrolling down your shared media. A small grin on his face as he watches a video of you fucking some guy you hooked up with on a random night out. 

"You think this was good?" He'd look over at you with an expression so serious that you couldn't tell if he really wanted an answer to his question "I could fuck you way better than this" 

That's how you ended up with your back against his chest as the two of you sat on your couch. Your legs spread open and your exposed pussy on display to your best friend. "You must really be a slut, huh?" His fingers would trail light circles around your clit, teasing you so slowly that it made your head spin. You whine for more, bucking your hips up into his hand. 

"Do you just let any guy have access to this pretty pussy? And you're so fucking needy too. You want more?" He was inside of you in an instant, filling you up mercilessly and fucking into you like you belonged to him. He was right when he said that he could fuck you better, you could feel that delicious knot in your stomach as soon as he started fucking into your g-spot at the perfect angle. 

“Look at you, my dumb mutt is drooling. Is my cock so good that you need to make a fucking mess?” Yes, it is that good, you find yourself babbling as he fucks you harder. It’s so much but you keep asking for more and he keeps giving. His new favorite thing is watching you fall apart on his cock. He never would’ve thought that his sweet and innocent best friend could be so lewd. It was all an act. 

He’d laugh when you beg him to fuck you harder, landing a bruising slap on your ass as he rams into you. “You want more? Don’t run from it, pup you just asked for this.” He’d pull out right when you announce that you’re close and turn you around, propping your legs up over his shoulders so that he can reach spots that he couldn’t before. Your moans and cries drown out the sound of skin slapping and Seungmin’s own grunts of pleasure. He’d rub your clit to edge you a bit then stick those arousal covered digits in your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Shut the fuck up, such a noisy bitch. I should muzzle you.”  He smiles when you clench around him, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’d fucking like that wouldn’t you? You want me to fucking gag you? Such a slut.”

He’d get a bit sweeter when he gets close to finishing, he’d praise you with each sloppy thrust. Kissing your calves and sucking and nipping bruises into your ankle. You unravel as soon as his fingers brush against your clit, shaking underneath him and chanting his name like he created your entire universe. “Oh fuck oh fuck you’re so pretty when you cum, baby. That’s it.” 

He’d fall apart shortly after, the image of your eyes rolling back as you came around him throws him over the edge. He covers you in his sticky release with his head thrown back and his chest rising and falling violently. “So perfect, so fucking perfect.” He can’t get the image of you out of his head as he empties his balls. He’s going to need more of you immediately. He leans over and gives you a quick peck on the lips. He looks you in the eye with a sweet yet serious expression. 

“Mine, okay?” You nod your head with a fucked out smile and he kisses you again. “That’s my girl.”

[cowboybeepboop]

Masseuse

"You're right," he replied, his voice taking on a more sultry tone. "We never did finish that massage, did we?"

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut, romantic and fluffy

Word count: 4.3k 

Summary: Jake offers to give you a massage which turns into a romantic confession.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral: fem receiving, p in v sex. 

a/n: Guys idk I just love writing friends to lovers it's so cutesy. Anyways as always I hope you enjoy and send me any requests you might have. I also would like to thank everyone who’s following me and supporting me, I’m very grateful for it 😣🙏

Hangman was walking beside you, his arms above his head as he yawned slowly, tired from the training. His bag was slung over his shoulder, it was a long few hours, he turned to you with a smirk.

“Damn that was a tough training session.” He chuckled as he walked slightly closer to you.

“Ugh, I know. I’m all sore,” you whine as you stretch your arms, glancing at his cocky expression. 

“Aww, poor thing,” he teased, a smirk on his lips as he turned to look at you, his hand moving to pat the top of your head playfully. “Need me to give you a massage?” He asked, his tone a mixture of jokingly and seriousness.

You stop walking and turn to face him, “Are you being serious?” you raise an eyebrow. 

He paused as well, tilting his head and staring at you. “Course I am,” he replied, his smirk still plastered on his face. “I can’t have my best friend in pain, I’ll take care of you.” He teased, crossing his arms.

“God, you don’t know how good that sounds right now.” you reply, rubbing your side softly. 

His smirk only widened at your words, his expression turning from playful to a more sincere one. He moved towards you, his hand reaching out to grasp your side, gently massaging where you were rubbing previously. “I always give the best massages, I promise,” he teased, his fingers gently kneading the sore area.

“Mmm I’m sure you do.” you murmur, eyes fluttering closed with the sensation. “Should we go to your place or mine?” 

His smirk transformed into a grin, his hand continuing to massage gently at your side. “Well mine is closer,” he teased, his fingers still working the sore muscles gently. “Plus, I have some things that could make the massage better,” he added, his tone suggestive but still playful.

“Then lead the way.” you open your eyes, stopping his hand. “But don’t take too long, I really want to lay down.” 

He chuckled, dropping his hand from your side and nodding. “Whatever you say, princess.” He teased, moving to turn around and gesture for you to follow him.

His pace was moderately fast, his long stride making it easy for him to stay ahead, yet still close enough that you could reach out and grab him if you wanted. It didn’t take long for you to arrive at his place, he unlocked the door and ushered you inside, shutting it behind himself with a flick of his wrist.

You throw your bag onto the floor and immediately start looking around, taking in the room around you. “So where do you want me Jake?”    

He chuckled at your eagerness, closing the door behind himself and locking it before turning to look at you. “Well, you said you wanted to lay down darling, right?” He teased, his smirk returning. “I suggest the bed.” He joked, his tone low and suggestive.

“Don’t go getting any ideas,” you reply playfully, plopping down on the bed, laying on your stomach. 

He chuckled again, watching you as you laid on his bed, stomach down. “Oh honey, I always have ideas,” he teased, his eyes trailing over your body before he began to make his way closer to you.

His stride was slow and lazy, almost like a predator before he approached his prey. He knelt down beside the bed, his fingers reaching out to rub against your back, gently massaging the sore areas.

“Keep your thoughts PG Jake.” you sigh as your body relaxes into the mattress, a soft moan escaping your lips with the pressure of his touch. 

He rolled his eyes. “It’s never PG with me, sweetheart,” he teased, his fingers working their magic as he slowly massaged your back.

A smirk formed on his lips as your body relaxed, your soft moan sending a shiver down his spine. “Damn, you weren’t kidding when you said you were sore,” he teased, his fingers gently kneading the tense muscles in your back, working them out.

“I’m sore everywhere.” you whine, as his fingers slip under your shirt, working on your tense muscles. 

He bit his lip as his fingers moved under your shirt, gently massaging your bare skin, his touch firm yet soft. “Oh, baby, everywhere?” He teased, his smirk widening as he continued his movements, his fingers working out the knots in your muscles with ease.

“Jake,” you practically moan his name, getting distracted mid sentence. “Should I take off my shirt?”

He chuckled at your moan, his fingers pausing for a moment as you spoke. A smirk formed on his lips as you suggested taking off your shirt. “Oh, honey, I thought you'd never ask.” He teased, his eyes trailing over your shape. “Can I do the honors?”

“Go ahead,” you turn your head softly, relaxing further into the sheets.His smirk widened as you gave him permission, his hands moving to the bottom of your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head, discarding it onto the floor.

His eyes raked over your bare skin, his fingers gently tracing the muscles of your back, tracing patterns that sent shivers down your spine. “God, you’re beautiful.” He murmured.

“Jake… quit flirting with me.” you groan as he straddles your hips, knees on the sides of your thighs. He chuckled as he straddled your hips, his hands trailing up to start massaging your shoulders, his fingers kneading the muscles gently.

“But sweetheart, I can’t help myself when you’re laid under me like this,” he teased, his voice low and seductive. “The way you’re laying, the way you move, the sounds you make-“

“Jake.” you cut him off, “I’m just here for a friendly massage.” 

He paused his hands as you spoke, a smirk still on his lips. “You really think I’m gonna keep this to a ‘friendly massage’?” He playfully retorted, his hands moving to your sides, his touch slightly more teasing than massaging.

You turn underneath him, looking up at him “Jake, we’re friends..” He stops as you turn, his eyes meeting yours. He paused, his usual smirk fading slightly as you spoke. 

He sighed, his hands moving to rest on either side of your head, pinning you down between his arms. “Sweetheart, I’m gonna be honest with you.” He started, his voice quieter than before. “I don’t just see you as a friend.”

“You don’t?” your eyebrows furrow as he gazes down at you, hands moving to his sides. 

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. “No. I don’t.” He whispered, his voice quiet but firm.

“You drive me crazy, you know that? The way you fly, the way you talk, the way you make me smile-“ he paused, his gaze turning more intense, “The way you look right now, pinned underneath me.”

You’re left speechless with his confession, stuck gawking up at him with widened eyes. He chuckled at the look on your face, his smirk returning as he observed your reaction. “Speechless, huh? Never thought I’d ever see that day.” He teased, his head tilting to the side as he stared down at you.

Your fingers tangle in the roots of his hair, your free hand pulling his face to yours. “Don’t get too cocky now.” 

He allowed you to pull his face closer, his smirk widening at your touch. “Oh sweetheart, when am I not cocky?” He taunted, his breath mingling with yours as he spoke.

He shifted his position slightly, his body now pressing into you, pinning you even more effectively underneath him. “You know, I could get used to you being under me like this” he teased again, his hand tracing up and down your side gently.

You gasp at the feeling of his hardness pressing into your thigh, “Jake, just kiss me already.” 

He chuckled at your gasp, his smirk widening at the way your body reacted. “Well, since you said it so nicely.” He teased, lowering his head down to meet your lips. His hand moved to the back of your head, holding you in place as his lips crashed onto yours.

The kiss started off relatively soft, his lips gently moving against yours, but quickly became more hungry, his tongue pushing at the seam of your lips, desperately seeking entrance.

You shift underneath him, arms pulling him closer to you as you let out a soft moan. Your thighs wrap around his waist as his lips move to your neck. He groans at the feeling of your thighs wrapping around his waist, his hands moving to grip your hips, his fingers gripping them possessively.

His lips move across your neck, his teeth nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. “Damn, sweetheart,” he groaned, his hips grinding against you. “You’re driving me crazy right now.”

You arch into him at the pressure of his movements, “Fuck. Jake, please.” your fingers dig into his shoulders. He lets out another deep groan at the sound of you begging. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He panted, his hips still moving against yours, his chest pressed against yours. “Want me to take you right here, right now?” He teased, his lips moving back to your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin again.

“You know me so well.” you retort, moving to pull his shirt away. He chuckled against your neck as you pulled at his shirt, his lips leaving your skin for only a moment as the cloth was pulled away from his body. 

He quickly returned to his previous position, his hands moving to grip your wrists and pin them above your head, his body pressing into you once more. “You’re impatient, aren’t you?” He taunted, his lips finding your ear, his teeth nipping at the lobe. “Want me that badly?”

“Jake, I've been waiting for you for years. Don’t make me wait any longer.” you groan, arms shifting in his grasp. He groaned at your words, his grip on your wrists tightening. 

“You really that desperate for me?” He panted, his teeth nipping a little harder at the sensitive skin of your neck. “Been waiting for me for years, huh?” He shifted himself slightly, his hips pressing closer to yours, his hard length evident between your thighs. “How long have you wanted me?” He whispered, his voice low and slightly possessive.

“Don’t let that get to your head, and no more talking.” you grind against him, impatient with his teasing. 

He let out a low growl at the feeling of your movement, his hands gripping your wrists a bit tighter but not to the point of pain. “So damn impatient,” he grunted, his hips pressing harder into yours, desperate for friction, desperate for more.

“Fine,” he muttered, “no more talking.” His lips met yours again in a hungry kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, silencing any words you might have said.

Jake groans into your neck as he lets go of your wrists, his hands moving to caress your breasts over your bra, his thumbs brushing against your sensitive nipples. You arch your back, pushing them into his palms, and let out a soft whine. 

His mouth follows the trail of his hands, kissing and nibbling down your neck until he reaches the fabric that separates his mouth from your skin. With a quick movement, he unclasps your bra, letting it fall away, and his eyes widen with desire as he takes in the sight of your bare chest. 

He takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue as his hand tweaks the other, making you squirm under him. His hands roam over your body, feeling every curve and dip, as his mouth continues to worship your breasts, leaving you breathless and desperate for more.

Jake's kisses grew more feverish as he made his way down your body, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your collarbone before his tongue trailed lower, over your abdomen and lingered at your navel. His warm breath tickled the skin around your belly button as he flicked his tongue inside it, eliciting a giggle that turned into a gasp when his hands began to tug at the waistband of your pants. 

His eyes met yours, filled with a fiery need that mirrored your own. "Let's get these off, shall we?" he murmured, his voice thick with desire. You nodded, your breath hitching as he deftly unbuttoned and unzipped your pants, sliding them down your legs with a gentle urgency. 

Your panties soon followed, leaving you exposed and vulnerable beneath him, but the way he looked at you made you feel anything but weak. His gaze was one of pure adoration and hunger, his hands trembling slightly as they roamed over your bare skin. 

He took a moment to appreciate the view, his eyes drinking in the sight of you laid out before him, your legs spread slightly in invitation. With a wicked grin, he dipped his head and placed a soft kiss just above your clit, making you quiver in anticipation. 

His hands continued to explore, one sliding down to gently cup your ass, the other to trace the line of your inner thigh before it disappeared under the fabric of your panties. "So wet for me," he murmured, his thumb brushing against your already soaked pussy. 

"I can't wait to taste you." He didn't waste any more time, diving in and pressing the tip of his tongue against your clit, flicking it in a way that had you moaning and bucking your hips up to meet him. 

The sensation was electric, his warm breath and the gentle abrasion of his tongue driving you wild. As he teased and tormented your clit, his hand slid back down to your opening, his index finger circling the entrance before pushing inside you gently. You gasped as he filled you with one digit, the feeling of fullness adding to the exquisite pleasure building within you. 

He chuckled against your skin, feeling you tense around him, and he began to pump his finger in and out in a slow, steady rhythm that had your muscles clenching around him. His mouth remained focused on your clit, the combination of his skilled tongue and the pressure from his finger pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy with every passing second.

Jake groaned against your pussy, his free hand moving to palm his clothed hardness, the fabric of his jeans straining against the length of his erection. Your desperation grew as you grinded down against his hand, desperate for more. His tongue swirled around your clit, the pressure increasing with every pass, sending waves of pleasure through your body. 

Your breaths came out in ragged gasps, and your hips rocked into his face, seeking relief from the delicious tension he was building. His fingers inside you curled slightly, brushing against your g-spot, making your eyes roll back with pleasure. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it was driving you crazy. 

You moaned out his name, the sound a mix of need and pleasure as you moved against him, silently begging for more. His hand on your hip held you in place, guiding your movements as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. 

The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and his muffled groans, the scent of arousal thick in the air. Your legs began to shake, and you knew you wouldn't last much longer. "Jake," you whimpered, "I'm so close." 

He responded by sucking harder on your clit, his finger pressing deeper inside you, and the combination was too much. You came apart beneath him, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. 

He didn't stop though, continuing to lick and suck at your sensitive bud, drawing out every last drop of pleasure. As the tremors subsided, he pulled away, his eyes dark with desire as he looked up at you. "Now, let's see if I can make you scream," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

Withdrawing his finger from you with a gentle pop, Jake leaned back, giving you a moment to catch your breath. His eyes were filled with desire as he unbuttoned his pants, revealing his thick, hard cock that was straining against the fabric of his boxers. 

He looked at you with a question in his gaze, his hand hovering over the waistband. "Ready for the main event?" he asked, his voice low and gruff. You nodded, your eyes never leaving his as he slid down his boxers, freeing his erection. It stood proudly, the tip glistening with pre-cum, and he stroked it once, twice, before positioning himself at your entrance. 

He looked into your eyes, seeking permission, his expression earnest. "May I?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble. You nodded again, your own desire reflected in your gaze, and he slowly pushed into you. The sensation was overwhelming, his length filling you up inch by inch, stretching you to the point of pleasure and pain. 

You gasped as he breached your barrier, the feeling of fullness unlike anything you've ever experienced. He paused, giving you a moment to adjust before he began to move, his hips rocking in a steady rhythm that had you arching into him. His eyes never left yours, his gaze holding you in place as he claimed you in the most intimate way possible. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, your body begging for more. And as he began to thrust in earnest, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your moans and his grunts of pleasure. The intensity grew with each stroke, and you knew this was just the beginning of a passionate night filled with pleasure beyond your wildest dreams.

Jake's movements were deliberate and slow, his cock sliding into you with a tenderness that was surprising yet incredibly erotic. Each inch was met with a soft groan from you, your body stretching to accommodate his size. He watched you closely, his eyes dark with passion as he pushed deeper, savoring the way your walls clung to him. 

His hands held onto your hips, guiding you with gentle precision as he began to move in and out, setting a slow, rhythmic pace that had you whimpering with need. Each stroke was measured, as if he was memorizing every part of you, making you feel cherished and desired beyond anything you've ever experienced. 

"You're so tight," he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "I can feel every part of you." His hips rolled in a hypnotic pattern, his length hitting that perfect spot deep within you, making your toes curl and your nails dig into the bedsheets. His lips found yours again, his kiss deep and lingering as he continued to move within you, the intimacy of the moment threatening to consume you both.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, urging him closer as you try to absorb every inch of him. You arch your back, pushing your hips up to meet his, eager for more of his deep, powerful thrusts. Each time he enters you, it feels like your body is being claimed by him, filled in a way that makes you feel both vulnerable and incredibly powerful. 

Your legs lock around his waist, pulling him into you with a need that borders on desperation. The rhythm builds, a crescendo of passion and lust that resonates through the very core of your being. Your breaths become ragged, your moans louder, as he continues to move within you, his pace increasing with every beat of your racing heart. 

The connection between you is palpable, a dance of desire that leaves you both breathless and yearning for more. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze a silent promise that he won't stop until you're both lost in the bliss of release. And as you feel the beginnings of another orgasm building within you, you tighten your grip, pushing down against his hips with all the strength you have, silently begging for him to take you over the edge once more.

Jake's thrusts grew more urgent as he felt his climax approaching, his hips moving with a fervor that matched the racing beat of his heart. His eyes remained locked on yours, the depth of his passion unmistakable as he drove into you with all the pent-up desire of years of longing. As he reached his peak, his body tensed, and with a guttural groan, he released himself deep inside you, filling you with his warmth. 

His hand slipped down to your clit, his fingers beginning to circle it with the same rhythm as his hips, not wanting to leave you behind in the throes of passion. His touch was masterful, applying just the right amount of pressure as he felt your body respond, your muscles tightening around his cock, drawing out his orgasm even as it pushed you closer to yours. 

Your moans grew louder, mingling with his own as the pleasure grew to a fever pitch. His movements grew erratic, driven by the intensity of his release, but his attention never wavered from your clit, working it with a fierce determination that had your eyes squeezing shut and your back arching off the bed. And just when you thought you couldn't handle any more, your body gave in to the sensation, and a second, even more powerful orgasm crashed over you, making your entire body spasm with pleasure. 

As the aftershocks of your shared release rippled through you, he collapsed on top of you, his breaths coming in ragged pants as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his heart hammering against your chest. For a moment, the world ceased to exist outside of the two of you, lost in the blissful haze of passion and intimacy.

Jake's body trembled slightly as he tried to catch his breath, his chest heaving against yours. The intensity of what had just happened left him feeling both satisfied and vulnerable, and he buried his face deeper into the crook of your neck as he tried to wrap his mind around the emotions swirling within him. 

He'd wanted this for so long, and now that he had you in his arms, safe and satisfied, he didn't want to let go. But there was still something else he needed to say, a confession that had been burning within him since the day he met you. 

“Jake..” you murmur his name, he raised his head slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. 

"There's... something I need to tell you," he began, his voice a soft rumble against your skin. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle yet shaky. "I've been trying to find the right time, but... there's never been a perfect moment."

Your body tenses with his words, anxiety filling you with his words. “What’s wrong?” you grip his forearms gently, fingers digging into his muscles. Jake noticed your tension, his expression turning even more concerned. 

He shifted his body so that he was fully facing you, his eyes fixed on yours. "It's nothing bad, I promise," he started, his voice slightly reassuring. "It's just... something I've been holding onto for a long time. Something I've been too afraid to say."

“What is it Jake? Spit it out, you're scaring me here..” your eyebrows furrow as you gaze at him. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. 

"I'm sorry. I don't want to scare you. It's just..." He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the words he was about to say. "The truth is... I've been in love with you for a long time. Years, actually."

You let out a shaky sigh before giggling, body relaxing into the mattress underneath you. Jake's eyes widened in surprise at your response. He had anticipated many reactions, but laughter was not one of them. "You're... laughing?" he asked, his voice filled with both confusion and disbelief. "Why are you laughing?"

“How long have you been in love with me?” your hands move to cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. 

A slight frown tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he didn't pull away from your touch. "Since the day I met you," he admitted softly. "Ever since I laid eyes on you, I've been captivated. It was like a punch to the gut, and I couldn't shake the feeling no matter how hard I tried."

“You should’ve said something earlier.” you press a soft kiss to his lips, teeth tugging on his bottom lip as you pull away. He chuckled softly as you pulled away, a hint of amusement in his eyes. 

"Yeah, hindsight's 20/20, right?" He cupped your chin, his thumb brushing over your lips. "I was scared. I didn't think you felt the same way, and I didn't want to ruin our friendship if I was wrong." 

You kiss him again, loving the taste and feel of his lips against you. Jake melts into the kiss, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you closer. He deepened the kiss, his tongue meeting yours in a slow, passionate dance. 

It was a kiss filled with years of pent-up desire, years of holding back his feelings. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in short gasps. “I love you too Jake, I always have.” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. 

He was certain he'd misheard you, or that this entire moment was a dream. But the feel of your body against his, the tenderness in your voice, told him that this was real. That you genuinely felt the same way about him. He tightened his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that," he murmured, his voice filled with both ecstasy and relief. He lays back, pulling you onto his chest, you trace soft circles onto his chest. 

“Jake, you know…” He hummed in response, his eyes half-lidded as he reveled in the feeling of your touch. 

"Yeah, sweetheart?" he asked, one of his hands idly playing with your hair. 

“We never finished my massage.” you murmur, cheek pressed against his smooth skin. A sly smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he processed your words. He didn't know how he could have forgotten about your unfinished massage, considering how much he'd been looking forward to it.

"You're right," he replied, his voice taking on a more sultry tone. "We never did finish that massage, did we?"

[shuastar]

old money!wonwoo

genre/warnings: regency!au, old money!wonwoo, old money!reader, family name is yoon but nothing else is stated (korean is implied but never mentioned), suggestive (??? not really but..), implied past relationship

word count: 1783

a/n: ik the personalities kinda change in the middle but in my defense i wrote this at like 2am on 2 different days....wonwoo is still as hot so.. idk if i should turn this into a full-blown fic either [tumblr runs on reblogs!!]

“Are you even hearing yourself right now?” Your incredulous voice rings through the empty study. 

Wonwoo nods, bangs brushing into his eyes. “It can be contractual,” he pushes, quietly stepping forward.

The two of you stare at each other, the only sound in the room being the echoing ticking of the grandfather clock in the back of the room. You feel your confidence wavering as Wonwoo seems to not let up on his gaze, sinking deeper and deeper into what feels like your soul. Briefly, just briefly, you wonder how you two even came to this position at all. 

“Like a contractual marriage.” The words feel familiar on your tongue from the time you spent arguing with your parents on that very topic. The promise you made your fifteen-year-old self to marry for love, for your soulmate, for the one who would dance with you under the dim chandelier lights of your condo. So why did your stupid delusional heart catch on an erratic beat at the thought?

Wonwoo’s lips tug upwards at those words and you can’t help but notice how the remnants of his childhood dimples are still there. “Exactly. Like a contractual marriage.” His words are soft, uncharacteristic of the indifferent man you are used to. 

He dares to take another step forward, his fingers brushing your arms. You can almost breathe in his Armani cologne from how close you were. It makes your head spin – the scent of the cologne with a hint of his minty shampoo and aftershave. It threatens to break down all of your walls – the walls it took you years to build up.

When your eyes lift from the carpeted ground, you meet his eyes from behind his horn-rimmed glasses. They have an unfamiliar emotion swimming in the surface. It’s something that pulls you closer to him, unconsciously leaning in to gaze into his eyes. Almost as if your body wanted to memorize this effect on him. 

“Think about it,” he starts, “you don’t want to marry any of,” a pause, almost as if he adds it in for dramatic effect, “them,” he sneers. His eyebrows furrow and the perfect harmony of his stupid face crumples into one of bitter distaste. If he wasn’t standing as close, if his cologne wasn’t invading your senses, if he wasn’t staring at you with some unplaceable carnal expression in his eyes, you would have reached up and smoothed out the wrinkle on his forehead. Smoothed out the wrinkles on his perfect, pale, porcelain face. You would have reached a hand up to his jaw, trailing your fingers along his jawline and-

“Y/N,” Wonwoo’s voice cuts through your daydreams. He goes to push up his glasses, and you can’t help but notice the singular bracelet that adorns his wrist — woven tightly into an uncharacteristically messy pattern of blue and white waves. “If you don’t want this, you can tell me.” 

I can’t, you want to say. I can’t when you’re looking at me like that. With your stupidly pretty brown eyes and your stupidly gorgeous face. How could I ever say no?

He stares down at you, the corners of his lips pulled down into a hint of a frown. From this angle, the moon that shines through his study’s gigantic wood-framed windows, frames his body perfectly. His hair is tousled, in the way you remember only he can pull off. There is a faint giggling memory of watching your brother Jeonghan try to tousle his own hair like Wonwoo does, only to end up with blonde strands sticking up everywhere. 

You know you’re stringing it out for too long — you should’ve said something 10 seconds ago. BUt still, Wonwoo waits patiently, allowing your misted eyes to gaze over his body — from the tops of his hair to his expensive Thom Brown dress shoes. 

Your eyes land at the bracelet. 

“You can take it off, you know?” you whisper. It feels like a secret — the fact that Wonwoo still wears it; the fact that Wonwoo still remembers; the fact that the idea of you and Wonwoo once existed. 

Wonwoo is now the one silent, eyes fluttering to his bracelet. His fingers pick at the loose strands. The wave patterns move with every tug. For some reason, it makes your heart clench. 

“We’re done,” you say, “Remember?” Your words are harsh, almost forced out of your throat. It hangs uncomfortably in the air: an added tension in the thick, unbreathable air. 

”Not for me.” Wonwoo’s head rises, dark chocolate brown eyes meeting yours. 

Any words die in your throat. The three-word sentence Wonwoo uttered forces your lungs into a stop. Not for me. ‘Not for me’ your ass. Not done your ass. Because you remember sobbing in the hallways and him not giving a fuck. Because you remember hugging, begging, whining for him to stay. All for him to just say “no, it’s better this way,” and walk down the hallways. Not done your ass.

But you can’t bring yourself to say that. Not when his eyes blink slowly, lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks. 

They stare directly into yours, before moving down your body. His fingers still tug on the bracelet. “It was never done for me. For you, maybe. But never for me,” he states. Confidence is laced in every syllable he utters. 

WOnwoo suddenly takes a step forward. You take a step backwards. Wonwoo. You. WOnwoo. You. Wonwoo. Yo- Wall. Your back slams against Wonwoo’s polished marble wall. The chilled marble sends shivers up your bare spine. A staggered gasp is ripped from the confines of your chest and your hands fly out and land on Wonwoo’s chest, stabilizing yourself. 

You tense, head tilted up against the wall, lips parted. You can feel the surge of heat against your cheeks. Your heart beats furiously in its cage, threatening to pound through your dress and spill onto the carpeted floor. Your hands suddenly feel embarrassingly sweaty and your fingers unconsciously clench Wonwoo’s black dress shirt. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, head bowing almost naturally, “Sorry, I don’t know what-“ you’re interrupted by your own muffled noise — something in between a gasp, whine, and murmur of protest. 

Wonwoo’s fingers now interlace with your own, against his own chest. There isn’t a speck of hesitation in his deep eyes when he slowly moves your intertwined hands to rest just above his left pec (which you conveniently chose to ignore how defined it was). 

WOnwoo raises a brow, when you move to pull away. “I’m not gonna bite, sweets.”

You blush at the nickname, pressing yourself further into the wall, trying your best to sink into the marble behind you. “What are you doing?” you ask, hands still pressed up against WOnwoo’s chest.

”I don’t think you believe me.” Wonwoo splays your hands out. His eyes waver when his fingers cover yours entirely. They close for a split second, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob up and down. When his eyes flutter open again, they’re noticeably darker, more hooded. He swallows thickly when you turn your own eyes up to him “Fuck,” he whispers, forehead lowering towards yours. His hold on your hand tightens, pressing your fingertips into his pecs. 

You blink, pretending to ignore everything else. “Believe what?” Your lips lift up in a cheeky grin. “That you have man boobs? It’s okay, sweets, I think moobies are hot.” Your words barely even leave your mouth and you have the strongest urge to slap a hand over your mouth. Seriously. What the fuck were you saying? 

HOwever, as you blush out of scarce embarrassment, Wonwoo’s ears turn bright red and he groans. A deep gutteral groan leaves his parted mouth, followed by a shaky mutter of your name. His forehead lands on your shoulder, breath hot against your neck. One hand releases your hand and trails against your hips. It falters when it reaches your waist, before it snakes around and pulls you against him. 

“Fuck, you feel that?” Wonwoo’s voice is deep near your ear. It almost pisses you off, how hard you need to prevent a whine from falling from your lips. 

You’re about to say “Feel what?” when you actually do feel it. From the tips of your fingers, you can feel Wonwoo’s heartbeat. The muscle pounds a horse race against your fingers, going a mile a minute. 

You can’t help but let out a breathy laugh. “You’re gonna pass out at this rate.” 

You can feel a grin against your neck. Wonwoo’s hand — the one around your waist — roams a little lower. “You’re gonna tuck me in and kiss me goodnight if I do?” he teases, sharp canines nipping your delicate skin, punching out a gasp. 

“Wonwoo!” You gasp, hand lightly pushing his head away. “I have to go back down! Do not give me a hickey,” you huff, wiggling in his loosening grasp. 

Wonwoo pulls away at your words. “Y’ needa go down?” A shadow of a pout appears on his lips. “Didn’t even bite you that hard, sweets,” he argues. His words sound slightly slurred, almost forced as he stares at you. No. Not at you. Rather, at your lips. 

Either that or your chin. 

You would prefer lips. 

At least then you wouldn’t be the only one desperately wanting his worry-bitten lips on yours. 

You sigh, slipping your hands out of his. You can only offer a second of hesitation before you wrap your arms around his neck, nails lightly scratching his undercut. There is a small smile that plays aganst your lips as you rest your cheek on his chest (but not before you leave a fleeting kiss against the junction between his neck and shoulder). You can still hear his erratic heartbeat, stuttering in your grasp. 

“Wish you did,” you murmur, leaning some of your weight against him, trusting he’ll lift you up. 

Wonwoo’s arms circle your waist – lower than what you would’ve allowed before all of this. His hands splay across your back and lift you up, walking himself to the nearest surface, which happened to be his desk. 

“What?” 

You hum, now smiling as he places you carefully on the edge of his desk, inserting himself between your parted legs. His fingers paw at your waist. “Wish you did,” you repeat, your own fingers reaching up to brush strands of his hair out of his eyes. 

Wonwoo tilts his head dumbly. As if your words made all of his own words disappear. “Did what?” 

You coo, pulling him closer to you by his tie. Your cheeks are hot, you know, but it still doesn’t stop the words from falling out of your mouth: 

“Wish you bit me.” 

[shitsndgiggs]

You know the one about Jobe being the insecure one in the relationship bc of Jude but how about the reader being the one insecure because Jobe is starting to really blow up and has so many girls in his dm's alllll the time but he ofc does everything to reasure you xx

FOR ME, ITS YOU - JOBE BELLINGHAM

… idk

Jobe Bellingham x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

I was scrolling through my phone, aimlessly flipping between apps, but my mind was far from the glowing screen. Ever since Jobe’s football career had started to take off, things had changed.

He was blowing up—his name in headlines, interviews, more fans, and… DMs. Tons of them.

And not just any DMs. Beautiful girls, influencers, models—women I could only dream of looking like.

They flooded his notifications, and it gnawed at me. I tried to push the thoughts away, but they kept creeping in.

What if he realized he could do better?

Jobe was sitting across the room, scrolling through his phone, oblivious to the knot of insecurity that had been tightening in my chest.

Every time I glanced at him, my thoughts spiraled. What if he was talking to one of them? What if they were funnier or more interesting? What if he started to lose interest in me?

Before I could stop myself, the words slipped out. “You’ve been getting a lot of attention lately.”

Jobe looked up from his phone, a puzzled look on his face. “What do you mean?”

I shrugged, trying to keep my tone light, but failing miserably. “You know... all the DMs, comments, the girls. I see them, Jobe. They're all so—" I paused, unsure how to even finish the sentence, “...gorgeous.”

His expression softened immediately. “Wait, is that what’s been bothering you?”

I avoided his gaze, suddenly feeling silly for even bringing it up. But it was eating me up inside, and I couldn’t pretend anymore. “I just… sometimes I wonder if you’ll realize you could be with someone like them. Someone who’s... better.”

Jobe set his phone down and crossed the room, sitting beside me on the couch. He gently took my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “You really think I’d want to be with anyone else?”

I shrugged, still staring at the floor. “I mean, look at them. They’re flawless, and they seem so perfect for you. You’re blowing up right now, Jobe, and I can’t help but feel like... maybe I’m not enough.”

He turned toward me, his hand cupping my chin and lifting my face so our eyes met. “I don’t care about any of that,” he said softly but firmly. “You’re the one I want. Not them. You.”

I tried to smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “But they’re so—”

“Stop,” Jobe interrupted, his voice full of sincerity. “Yeah, maybe they’re models or influencers, but I don’t care about any of that. You think I care about some random girl sliding into my DMs when I’ve got you?”

I looked at him, my heart aching with uncertainty. “But why me? You could have anyone, Jobe.”

He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Why you? Because you’re the one who’s been with me from the start. You’re the one who knows me better than anyone. You’re the one who makes me laugh, who supports me, who’s real with me. None of those girls know me like you do. They don’t mean anything compared to you.”

I blinked back tears, trying to believe him, but my insecurities still lingered. “But what if—”

“No,” he said firmly, leaning in closer, his voice gentle but unwavering. “I don’t want them. I want you. You’re more than enough. You’re everything I need, everything I want.”

He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes full of warmth. “I love how you’re always there for me. I love how you know all my quirks and still put up with me. I love how you make me feel grounded when everything else is crazy. That’s what matters to me, not a bunch of likes or DMs from people who don’t even know who I am.”

I finally let out a small laugh, feeling the tension in my chest start to loosen. “You’re really not interested in them?”

Jobe smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not even a little bit. Besides, they don’t have anything on you.”

I rolled my eyes, but a genuine smile tugged at my lips. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m serious,” he said, pulling me into a tight hug. “You’re beautiful, and you’re everything I could ask for. I’m lucky to have you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

As I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, his words finally started to sink in. Maybe I didn’t need to compare myself to all those other girls. Jobe chose me. And for now, that was enough.

“I love you,” I whispered, my voice soft.

He kissed the top of my head and smiled against my hair. “I love you too, and nothing’s going to change that.”

[stevesgother]

Savior Complex - S.H

Paring - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 1.9k

Warnings - Blood. Mention of vomit. Partial nudity. Let me know if I missed anything!

Authors note - This is my first fic...ever. Constructive criticism always welcome but pls be nice. Takes place directly after the events of S3. Hurt/comfort, angst, acknowledging Steve’s trauma bc damn.

Summary: ANGST, hurt/comfort, happy ending but not a lot of resolution, friends to ? lovers? idk its up to you!

Inspired by my favorite poem of all time, that has always reminded me a little bit of Steve.

“In this space right here that we have made for each other, you can say anything and I will not abandon you. Unwrap the worst things you have done. Watch me hold them up to the light and not even flinch”

The air inside Steve’s car was heavy with tension and the thick July heat.

You sat parked in his driveway, the rest of The Party having dispersed to their own homes; their parents waiting for them with open arms and misty eyes. 

Not you. 

And Certainly not Steve Harrington.

You and Steve weren’t what you would call “close”. Until now, that is. Shared trauma tends to have that effect. He knew you had a tumultuous relationship with your parents, and it didn’t take much deducing to realize his parents weren’t in the picture. Barely in Indiana, let alone spending anything close to quality time with their only son.

The idea of spending the last few hours of this nightmarishly long day in his big, empty house was sounding lovelier by the minute. On the grounds that it ‘wasn’t safe to be alone right now’. You didn’t read too much into it; he was right, after all. Part of you wonders if he just didn’t want to be alone. Sluggish, and noticeably more bloodied than you, Steve made his way to the front door with you in tow. His house was silent; eerily so. Everything pristine and well manicured, as if no one lived there at all. 

“There’s a guest bedroom upstairs, and a bathroom down the hall, to the right. Towels in the cabinet next to the shower.” He doesn’t even look at you as he says it. You try not to feel like you’re burdening him, blaming his avoidance on the exhaustion and not the unwelcome presence of you in his home.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” He finally meets your gaze. The shiner he sports on his left eye is still swollen, but less so. The front of his sailor suit you once thought so endearing, is now stained with blood and vomit.

“You’re bleeding.” You say quietly. “You have -” you wince, “- open wounds on your face Steve. Probably a concussion too and that’s if we’re being modest.”

He wears a tight-lipped expression you can’t quite read. You can tell he’s frustrated, and his exhaustion is bone deep. It nags at your heart. Maybe that’s why you don’t just drop it when he answers you.

“Not my first rodeo, I’ll be fine just-” He pauses, “go shower, and get some rest. God knows this shit won’t just be over come tomorrow.”

You take a tentative step forward. “Please just…just let me help. I can disinfect the cuts around your eye. I was a girl scout! Though in hindsight I realize how useless that sounds and-” you’re rambling now; nervous.

“Stop.” You’re taken aback slightly by his tone, you haven’t known Steve to act hostile. Not in a long time. “I don’t need your help, and I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not ‘pity’ Steve! Why is it so hard for you to believe someone might want to help you?” You take a step forward from where you stand a few feet from him. You reach up to touch his forehead with the hope of better assessing his injuries.

‘Enough!” He swats your hand away, “God, I should’ve never offered for you to stay here. You think you’re some type of savior, but you’re not.”

His words feel like a knife to the chest. You knew what he was trying to do, you knew he didn’t really mean the things he said. Not when he’s like this. For the first time since you arrived tonight, you thought of how many times he’s had to come back to this empty, soulless house all alone. Damaged, emotionally and physically. Wounds he’s had to patch alone. No gentle caress of another’s hands. Just the stinging of antiseptic in his nostrils, and the heaviness of everyone he’s ever loved abandoning him.

“You don’t mean that.” You say, shaking your head in a disbelieving way.

He laughs, humorless, “Yes I do. I really, really do.” A bitter sharpness to his words. It burns like liquor washing down your throat. “Go.” 

“No!” Now you’re the one raising your voice. “Being stubborn is for when someone is haggling you at a flea market. Not when someone is trying to love you.”

Love. You realize what you’ve said a beat too late, but you stand defiant despite it. You do love Steve. This fact, collecting cobwebs in the back of your brain for months, being spat out onto the floor in front of you both is what compels you to what you do next.

Steve, who was previously standing with this index finger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose, is now staring at you like a deer in headlights. Before either of you can blink, you’re closing the gap between the two of you, sure of yourself. You wrap him in a suffocating embrace and he struggles against your grip.

“Stop! Please I don’t need you-” He all but shouts. Still, you sense a dent in the armor.  A crack in the wall he’s spent so long building to keep you out; to keep everyone out.

Eventually, he stops struggling. His knees give out from underneath him as the trauma and the pain and the events of today catch up to him. But not just today; a year ago when his girlfriend broke his heart at Tina’s stupid party. When Michael Harrington cut him off on the grounds of him being a disgrace to the family name. Everything flooding back to him all at once. Everything he’s spent his youth avoiding.

You sink to the ground with him, still holding him tight. He stops making an effort to hide his sobs, but instead clings to you like you’re the only tangible thing keeping him here. You sit beside him, with one arm wrapped around his shoulders and your free hand cradling his head to his chest so he can hear your heartbeat. A heart that finally beats for him.

“I know.” You soothe. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” The hair you’re gently stroking, which is usually so voluminous and perfectly styled, is now dampened with blood and sweat.

“I’m sorry-” He sobs, “I'm so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t want you to be sorry. I’m not sorry.” 

He cries harder at that. Shoulders shaking and breath shallow, he looks at you. You cradle his sweet, bruised face in your hands. You think, like a pomegranate, Steve Harrington is beautiful, and worth the mess. Wiping his tears with your thumbs and careful to avoid the cuts and swelling that decorate his face, you give him a smile. Shy, but earnest.

“Can you take me to bed?” He asks you, eyes bleary.

–

Neither of you speak as you turn on the faucet and watch the porcelain tub fill with scalding hot water; still not hot enough to wash away the memories this day has tainted you both with forever. Tentatively, you lift your shirt over your head, and slip your shorts down your scraped legs, revealing your mismatched bra and underwear. A pang of guilt washes over you when you look down and realize Steve took the brunt of the Russian soldiers. He was the bravest and most selfless person you had ever met.

You give him a look that asks “is this okay?” as your fingertips brush the cotton of his ruined Scoops uniform. You aren’t sure what the boundaries are anymore. Momentarily Steve worries this will irreparably change things between you two. He nods anyway. You lift the shirt over his head, catching a glimpse at the real extent of his injuries. His ribs were badly bruised, and he had clotting cuts all over his abdomen. Something swirls in your stomach at the sight of his chest hair. You wish the circumstances of this moment were different.

He pulls his own pants and socks down with a hiss, eyes screwed shut, leaving you both in just your undergarments. He steps into the tub and slowly sinks beneath the hot water. You step in behind him, and he looks over his shoulder at you, a look of confusion contorting his features. You don’t bother to explain, for the fear that speaking would break the trance you both seemingly were under. You had built a space here for each other, one you didn’t want to leave just yet.

Sitting behind him now, you wrap your arms around his chest and pull him flush to you. You rest your chin in the space between his shoulder and his neck, and close your eyes. You can feel how he tries to match his breathing to yours; slow and rhythmic.

You reach up to the hanging shelf on the wall above your head, and grab the cedar and sandalwood body wash. The second you open the bottle, your senses are flooded with him. Only in your wildest dreams did you think you’d ever get to smell his scent in any way other than passing. A slight brush of shoulders in the hallway; a friendly hug when you’d gotten back from a month long vacation.

With a dollop of body wash on a washcloth you found on the edge of the tub, you gently start to scrub the blood and grime off his freckled skin. Like this, you can see every birthmark, every scar, the way the hair at the nape of his neck curls up around his ears in the damp bathroom air.

Steve rests his calloused hand on your knee and squeezes. A silent reassurance that what you’re doing is okay, that he’s okay, that he’s here. Everything feels overwhelmingly intimate as your hands explore his body. You lather his thick, brown locks with the shampoo you found next to the soap. With a heavy sigh, Steve allows his head to fall back into the crook of your neck. He doesn’t tell you, but this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for him.

You’re not sure how long the two of you sit in the tub together, but at some point he turns to face you, cupping your jaw in his larger hand. The look he gives you is so tender, you think you might cry. His caramel eyes flicker to your lips and back up to your eyes, so fast you would’ve missed it if your senses weren’t dialed up to 11.

With the delicacy of someone touching a flower petal, he closes the gap and presses his cut lips to your soft ones. Hesitant at first, giving you the option to pull away. He fears he may have misread the moment when you separate from him, a look in your eyes that he can’t read. His worry dissipates as you take his face into both of your hands and kiss him deep and slow. You only break when the air feels too stiff to continue, the water droplets accumulating in the air and Steve's kiss making it difficult to catch your breath. His hands slide from where they were grasping your hair, and down to your neck where they stay.

“I love you, too.”

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Pregnant with Patrick’s Daughter (Challengers)

Description: Y/N is pregnant with Patrick’s baby but she’s with Art.

Word Count:986

Request: "Maybe something with a pregnant reader and like Patrick’s the dad. It could be fluff or angst, idk I’m just curious to see how the dynamic between Patrick and like his child would be lol!”

Author’s note: I added a twist in it. Hope you like it!

Y/N looked down at the pregnancy test in shock. Her and Patrick used protection or did they? She honestly couldn’t remember but this was bad news. She was with Art and fucking Patrick. Though she knows that it’s not Art’s kid because he’s been too busy with Tennis to even fuck her. Art would know that the kid wasn’t his, especially if the kid looks like Patrick. Truth be told, Y/N loved Patrick and she also loved Art. It was hard for her to choose between them when they both wanted her as well. She looked at the engagement ring that was placed on her finger. She twirled it and played with it as she thought of what she was going to do. 

Art was practicing for his match today so Y/N called Patrick. The two weren’t friends anymore which made the situation worse. He thought she wanted to have sex again so he kissed her hard as soon as she opened the door. She pushed him back and he gave her a confused look. “We need to talk.” She said, he nodded and followed her to the kitchen. “Take a seat.” She demanded. “Ohh I love it when you get all dominant with me.” He smirked. She gave him a look and his smirk dropped. “Listen I don’t know what to do about this or why I'm even telling you at this point but I’m pregnant.” His jaw drops at her words, “And it’s yours because Art and I haven’t had sex in awhile.” He got up from the chair and pulled her in for a hug. “That’s great. I’m gonna be a dad.” He whispered. She pulled away from the hug, “Patrick, I’m with Art. He’s not gonna be happy about this.” Patrick didn’t really care. He hated Art for taking Y/N from him. That pathetic bastard got everything he wanted. “Well he’s not gonna wanna be with you since you’re carrying another man’s baby. My baby to be exact.” She glared at him. Of course he’d be happy about this. He hated Art. 

“What?” Art screeched as he stood up from the couch. It didn’t make sense why Patrick was here but now it did. “Art, I’m sorry this isn’t how I wanted you to find out.” She tells him. Patrick had a proud smirk on his face. “Found out what? That you’re fucking my ex best friend and having his baby?” Y/N looked at him with a guilty expression. She really did feel bad. “Art it’s hard for me.” She said with tears in her eyes. “You’re crying? You’re fucking my ex best friend and you’re crying?” He yelled. “Art, I love you both.” Patrick didn’t know that she loved him, nor did Art. “What?” Patrick whispered at her confession. “I love you both and I know that you guys hate each other but I can’t live without you guys.” She said, tears still streaming down her face. Patrick stood up and looked at Art who looked so broken at the news. Y/N’s eyes flickered between the two of them. “Art, please say something.” She begged her fiance. He shook his head and laughed. Both, Y/N and Patrick looked confused. “Get the fuck out!” He told them. “Art, please-” “Get the fuck out!” He screamed at her. 

She laid in Patrick’s bed with tears streaming down her face. Her belly bigger and full with Patrick’s baby. It’s been 6 months since Art kicked her out. He hadn’t spoken to either of them, not that she thought he would. He had the right to be upset with her. She cheated on him and got pregnant. But it still hurt her a lot, she loved them both and it was selfish that she felt sad because she had Patrick. But she wanted both. The front door opened and she quickly wiped her tears. Patrick made his way to the bedroom to see Y/N and her tummy full of his baby. He smiled at the sight. She saw him enter the bedroom and smiled at him. He came and collapsed on the bed next to her. He turned towards her and stared at her stomach. “I can’t wait til she’s born.” He said and placed his hand on her tummy. She smiled and agreed with him. She placed her hand on his and the baby kicked. They both gasped and looked at each other. This was the first time they baby kicked for Patrick. Tears started forming in his eyes as he smiled. “I finally felt her kick.” Y/N nodded and ran her fingers through his hair. 

Y/N watched as Patrick gave their 4 year old daughter a racket. She chuckled as their daughter kept dropping it but everytime Patrick gave her it again. He was so patient with her and so sweet. It made Y/N’s heart melt. She giggled as their daughter almost hit Patrick with the racket. He looked at his wife and smiled at her. She got up from her seat and walked over to them. “Try not to kill daddy, sweetheart.” She joked. Their 4 year old giggled and gave the racket to Y/N. Y/N took it and melted when she ran into Patrick’s arms. Patrick smiled and hugged her back. Y/N felt happiness in her life, ever since their daughter was born. She didn’t think of Art anymore, unless she saw him on the news. He was a pro tennis player like Patrick and he married Tashi Duncan. She was happy for him, truly. “Hey uh I guess now would be the time to tell you that I’m playing in the challengers and Art will be there.” Her smile dropped at his name. She had a bad feeling about this and almost told him not to go. But she would be by his side with their daughter to support him. She wouldn’t let Art being there ruin this for them.

[idleoblivion]

"A Dangerous Muse" Jade Leech x GN Reader

Synopsis: You found him so pretty, it was hard not to get inspired. Still, it felt a little creepy to sketch him without permission. But it’s fine as long as he doesn’t find out, right?

Word Count: ~1.5k

A/N: This was supposed to be like maybe 500 words idk what happened

Warnings: Lots of teasing (I mean, it's Jade), brief Floyd cameo

Your secret wasn’t a particularly bad one, it was mostly just embarrassing. When he sat with his brother and Azul at lunch, when you could catch him during his shift at the lounge, and if you just happened to spot him at random around campus, you would take almost any chance to draw Jade in your sketchbook. They were usually just sketches of him looking poised and gentlemanly as he did whatever task he had taken up at the time. Occasionally though, you caught him being slightly more expressive, smiling in a way that showed his pointed teeth and made his eyes wrinkle. You were more than a little embarrassed of how well you had learned the details of his face, and by the dozen or more pages you’d already filled up with drawings of him. Something about him just felt naturally alluring and intriguing to you, he made the perfect muse.

Right now, you’re sitting at a table in the lounge trying to look like you're studying and not waiting for the appearance of a certain eel. You picked a seat off to the side by yourself like usual to not draw any attention. You were pretty sure you had overheard him in the halls earlier say he was working this afternoon, so it was odd to you that he hadn’t shown up yet. You pull your sketchbook out while you wait and look through some of your previous works. You sigh looking at one of them where you were especially proud of how you captured the mischievous look that he had been wearing, with a predatory glint in his mismatched eyes that-

…Was incredibly similar to the way he was looking at you right now.

You hadn’t seen him enter from the front door or kitchen, he seemingly materialized out of thin air. But he was there now, walking past the other patrons at their tables and headed towards your own. You hurriedly shut your sketchbook and try your best to act casual.

“Oya, what a surprise seeing you here, prefect. Are you here to try our new menu?” His eyes still have a dangerous look to them, and he not so subtly steals a few glances at your sketchbook.

“No actually, I just got done studying. I was getting ready to leave.” You try to grab your sketchbook and leave before he has time to question you further, but his hand reaches out and sits on top of it first.

“Oh, you’re already done? Are you sure? I could take a look at what you’ve been working on and assist you if you need.” He has a knowing smirk on his face that immediately increases your anxiety. His hand is still resting on top of the sketchbook.

“Uh, that won’t be necessary. I can’t afford to be making deals right now and-”

“Why, who said anything about a deal? Can’t I want to help you simply out of the goodness of my heart?” He feigns an innocent expression that you don’t trust in the slightest.

Before you can retort, he grabs the sketchbook off the table and moves to open it. You nearly lunge out of your seat to try and grab it from him but he seems to anticipate it and holds it behind his back, out of your reach. He smiles again at your panicky face.

“Oya, what’s this? Is there something private in this book of yours? I thought you were supposed to be just studying?” 

“I-I was, I just don’t want you doing anything to my notes, I worked hard on them.” His eyes narrow but his smile widens. “Yes, I’m sure you did. I promise I won’t compromise your work, I only intend to look.”

He pulls the sketchbook in front of him again, and you have to resist the urge to attempt to snatch it immediately. He steps forward until he’s too close, in your personal space. You try to back up only to find he has you caught between him and the table. He really leans in, his face only a few inches from you and you feel your cheeks heating up at the unexpected proximity.

“You’re sure all I’m going to find in here is notes, hm?”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to find another excuse to get you out of this. Him being so close to you certainly isn’t helping you get your thoughts together. He takes advantage of your shocked state and finally opens it to the page you’d been on.

“W-wait, Jade you can’t-”

“My, what’s all this~?”

He holds the book out of your reach again while he flips through the pages. You don’t even move to stop him this time, accepting your humiliating fate. You look away from him in your shame, which makes you miss the way his eyes light up as he skims over your work.

“...You’re certainly a skilled artist, I’ll give you that.” You force yourself to look back at him and gauge how upset at you he is, but his demeanor offers you no clues to what his mood really is. “I’m no critic, but I can appreciate how detailed your drawings are. You must have studied me very intently, no?”

“I…um, I guess? I just draw you whenever I see you around. I’m sorry, I know that’s-” “Why me?” You’re caught off guard by that question, and he repeats, “Why me? There are a plethora of other students you could draw, but as far as I saw, I appear to be your only subject. Why is that?”

Well, there’s no point in lying to him, and you were already so mortified, what’s a little more humiliation?

“You’re really pretty.”

For the very first time, you see Jade look almost dumbstruck. Only for a brief moment though, as his face almost immediately changes to something much more intense. You almost think he’s upset until you realize he’s looking at you with the same face he made at his terrariums, or when he cultivated a new species of mushroom. He was intrigued, you had his full attention and interest and the weight of it was becoming overwhelming the longer he stared at you.

“You…” he trails off for a second then leans in close to you again. “It’s impressive how often you manage to surprise me.”

“I’m sorry, I still should’ve asked. I can stop, really, I will. I’m so sorry.” You spoke fast and quietly, still wishing for nothing more than a way out of this situation.

“Now, there’s no need for that. Artists need to practice regularly to improve their skills, yes? I would hate to take that away from you.” “Huh? So…you want me to keep sketching you?” “Unfortunately, Azul would have a fit if he found out I was offering you a service and not charging anything.” Of course, nothing comes for free in Octavinelle. 

“Well, what would you charge then? Madol? Would I have to wait tables here?” He laughs lightly under his breath.“No, nothing like that. I believe our little deal should be well thought out and discussed, not impulsively decided right here and now. Why don’t you meet me back here this weekend, and we’ll work something out? Just you and I of course, I’m sure we don’t need Azul to mediate. Maybe I could even have you sample some dishes from our new menu during our discussion. There would be no charge for that of course, since you’d be doing me a favor by agreeing.” 

As you look at his face to decipher his intentions, you're left even more confused. Why is he looking at you almost…fondly? And he wants to meet with you completely alone? And he’d offer you food for free? What did he mean by you meeting with him being a favor to him? Was this…a date? What exactly was he implying? He just continued watching you, with his polite and courteous persona that you can never truly read put back on. Still a bit flustered, you try and rationalize why you should or shouldn’t go, before he interrupts your thoughts one last time.

“Oh, and you’re very pretty as well.”

Your face is burning after that. You swallow the lump in your throat before you meekly respond.

“Oh, t-thanks. Um, yeah, this weekend sounds great.” He smiles with his teeth on display again. “I look forward to it, prefect.” He grabs your hand and places a chaste kiss to the back of it before offering you your sketchbook back. You take it without a word, brain completely short circuiting.

Then just as suddenly as he appeared, he was gone. He left you by yourself with your own racing thoughts and heart and headed towards Azul’s office. You quickly gather yourself and get ready to leave. On your way out the door, you suddenly spot Floyd watching you with an amused smirk. He makes some kissy faces and noises at you teasingly and points toward the office where Jade is. Your face gets hot all over again and you rush out of the lounge, hearing Floyd cackle at you as you hurry away.

[saiintvalentiine]

Summary: Ken walks into the aftermath of Parrot finding out Wifies is actually a clone. He should be given sainthood for how little he kills Parrot. Part 2 now out!

notes: this is so not edited lol i wrote this in like. 3 hours between tasks at work. rip. this is vaguely set in the most recent UU episode in that i needed a setting and also a reason for ken wifies and parrot to be in the same place at once. no spoilers for the episode its just alluded to being the setting. uhhhh. i think thats it. enjoy. divider from here.

word count for the curious: 2678. allegedly.

Ken arrives in the meeting room with a hop in his step. He’s been looking for Wifies everywhere, but Dean let him know that Wifies was talking with Parrot, and now Ken can finally show him the little tricky trap he’s been working on! He’s proud of himself. It’s a really good design! So he’s hopping into the room like a rabbit instead of a cat.

Parrot stands alone at the head of the table, back to the door. Just Parrot.

Bleh.

“Yo,” Ken greets even though he still feels the urge to whack Parrot across the head occasionally. “I thought Wifies was here?”

“Did you know?” Parrot asks.

Ken can feel every single part of his body prickle with discomfort. He’s glad that Parrot isn’t looking at him, so he has a chance to lower his shoulders, and tail, and ears. And attitude. He knows, somehow, what exactly Parrot means by knowing. Ken shuts the door silently.

“Know what?” Ken asks, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t play dumb Ken. Did you know about Wifies being a clone?”

Ken breathes in slowly. He pulls his comm out and checks the playerlist. Wifies is gone. He was here only a few minutes ago when Ken last checked, which means that whatever happened, just happened.

“Did he tell you that?” Ken asks, opening Wifies’s chat.

[_Kenadian_]: where are you?

“You know, I was so confused,” Parrot turns around, eyes distant and face blank. “When I first met him, he was such a fucking asshole. Entirely full of himself. Still the smartest guy I’d ever met, though, so when all this stuff started happening on the server, I couldn’t help but think of him. I thought I was gonna regret inviting him, yet he was so quiet and nice now.”

[_Kenadian_]: wifies

[_Kenadian_]: seriously where are you

“He was always reserved, even before, but all these little things started coming up— he couldn’t remember things well, he’d talk about weird things in his sleep, things like that. And I couldn’t even. . . I didn’t know how to piece it together, and he wouldn’t talk to me!”

[_Kenadian_]: wato

[Wato1876]: Hey!

[_Kenadian_]: have you heard from wifies

[Wato1876]: No?

[Wato1876]: Isn’t he on unstable w/ you right now?

[_Kenadian_]: he left and isnt answering my messages

[_Kenadian_]: parrot found out, idk how, and now wifies is /gone/

[Wato1876]: ok I’ll check around for him

[_Kenadian_]: thx

“Are you even listening?” Parrot asks, and Ken finally looks up at him. His expression is one of desperation. It disgusts Ken.

“No,” Ken says, voice bone dry. “You yelled at him didn’t you? God Parrot, and I was just starting to respect you.”

“He lied to me this whole time!” Parrot explodes, eyes wild as he leans his hand on the table. “From the start, he hid this from me, and I only found out by— by sheer coincidence! He was talking to someone on his comm, and said something about being a clone, and I just—”

“Wait, who was he talking to?” Ken interrupts with a frown.

“I— I don’t know, they had a deep voice, talked really particularly?”

“Must’ve been Retro. . . Retro knows?” Ken mutters to himself.

The shame Wifies stews in every day because of his clone status is something Ken hasn’t been able to push past; Wifies always says he owes his life to Ken, but rarely does he bother to share his burdens with him either. Which means at least Retro seems to be getting through to him. . . It stings a little, but Ken has bigger fish to fry.

“So you did know!”

“Parrot, why do you care!” Ken snaps, turning back to his comm and searching for Retro’s contact information. Shit. He should’ve nabbed it off of Wifies earlier. “You drove him off! He’s not your fucking problem now, shouldn’t you be happy?! There! You cleaned your friends list of liars! Aren’t you satisfied with your work?!”

“I just wanted to know the truth, I didn’t want to drive him off! He's not a problem to get rid of!”

“Well great fucking job, man, go kick rocks or something. Fuck, where did he go?!”

[Wato1876]: Found him. He’s at the factory.

[Wato1876]: Ken, his comm is cracked right in half. He’s stuck here again.

Ken feels everything in him rear like a lion. He closes his comm and tucks it into his pocket. Slowly, oh so slowly, he stalks around the table towards Parrot, holding the hilt of his sword in a loose grip. Parrot follows his path with his eyes, feathers puffing out and fists clenched.

“Did you break his comm, Parrot?” Ken asks casually.

“No,” Parrot replies.

“Parrot. Tell me the truth. Did you break Wifies’s comm? Even by mistake?” Ken’s gums ache. He’ll dig his teeth into Parrot’s thin throat. He’ll rip his flimsy little esophagus out.

“No, no. I didn’t. I didn’t touch him. I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t know if you wouldn’t, Parrot, but I swear to everything you hold dear, if I find out it was you who broke his comm, you are going to wish I had just killed you instead,” Ken hisses out.

“His comm is broken?” Parrot echoes faintly, and it’s like gravity returns to his world, his feet landing back in reality.

“I don’t think you deserve an answer, Parrot, but yes.”

Ken tries to breathe through his anger. He’s going to believe Parrot for now.

[_Kenadian_]: ill be there soon

[Wato1876]: Bring a replacement comm?

“I was mad,” Parrot sounds wretched. “But not— I don’t care that he’s a clone Ken. I just felt like he didn’t trust me.”

Killing Parrot would make Wifies even sadder. Killing Parrot would make Wifies even sadder. Killing Parrot would make Wifies even sadder. Killing Parrot would make Wifies even sadder. Killing Parrot would make Wifies even sadder.

“I never trusted you, Parrot, not once, not for a single moment, but you made Wifies happy. I don’t know what he sees in you, but he was happy playing second fiddle to your stupid little orchestra on here, y’know? So I tried very hard to get along with you, so Wifies could stay happy,” Ken lets go of the hilt of his sword to press a sharp nail into Parrot’s chest. “You don’t understand the state I found him in before he came here, before you roped him into your stupid little games. He—”

Ken’s voice cracks and he curses, indistinct and abstract. He hates this. Leave it to Parrot to fuck everything up, just like Ken always knew he would with his lack of foresight and planning and brain. Parrot snaps up to grab Ken’s hand in a tight grip.

“Ken, I didn’t want him to leave me,” Parrot chokes out. “I just wanted to know, I just—”

“And look at where your wanting got him!” Ken spits out, yanking his hand away. “You want, and want, and want, Parrot do you even care what your wanting costs the rest of the world? What it costs Wifies?”

“He never says anything to me, he never—”

“Do you ever ask?! God Parrot, get out of your head for a minute!”

Ken runs a hand through his hair. Where is he gonna find a replacement comm? He might have something in one of the prison servers he frequents, but his head is scrambled, he can’t quite sort through his inventory in his head to figure out what he has right now. He may have one in his escape kits. . .

“Ken,” Parrot breathes. He finally realized what he’s done, it seems. Ken wants to stab him in the stomach. “Ken, I care about Wifies more than anyone else. You know that right? He knows that right?”

Ken pulls at his roots.

“I don’t know anything about Wifies right now,” Ken finally says, exhaustion creeping into him as his adrenaline runs dry. “I can’t contact him right now. He gets. . . bad, when it comes to the clone stuff. God, Parrot, what the hell have you done?”

Ken doesn’t wait for an answer. He leaves the server and lands in his solo world, scrambling around his storage before finding a dusty old comm he hasn’t used since he customized his current one. Landing near the factory is always a displeasure, but he pushes his feelings aside and enters. It takes a little searching, but he finds Wifies and Wato in the office, laid out on the floor next to each other.

“Wifies,” Ken says, more to say something than having anything to say, and he sits next to Wifies.

“Sorry for scaring you,” Wifies says. His voice is hoarse, and his eyes are bloodshot. “My comm broke. I dropped it while it was open, and I fell on it.”

“I brought you an old one I had laying around,” Ken says, bringing a hand up and running his fingers through Wifies’s curls slowly. Wifies closes his eyes. “What happened?”

Wifies doesn’t answer at first, just breathes evenly and relaxes each part of his body. He's so tense. Ken wishes he had killed Parrot.

“Parrot found out,” Wifies whispers. “I was talking to Retro. He’s been. . . helping me decipher some stuff from the notes. It was important. And I called him, and Parrot heard, and he was livid. That I hadn’t told him. That he couldn’t trust me. So I left.”

“He’s an asshole,” Wato says, and both Wifies and Ken turn to look at him in shock. “What?”

“Wato, there’s a reason why we’re such good friends,” Ken says with a grin. “Because I, too, believe Parrot is an absolute asshole.”

“You guys always knew, but I lied to him,” Wifies says. “I don’t know if he’s an asshole for being upset I didn’t tell him.”

“Yes he is,” Ken and Wato say together.

“There’s no reason to defend him out here,” Ken scolds, scratching Wifies’s scalp lightly.

“I don’t hate him, Ken,” Wifies lets out a deep, winding sigh before sitting up slowly. “Can I have the comm? I need to message Retro. Tell him everything’s okay.”

“Fine.”

Ken hands over the comm and Wifies thanks him faintly. As he boots it up and logs in, Wato sits up and gives Ken a look. Ken returns the look. Before they can descend upon Wifies and force him to talk about his feelings, the comm begins pinging wildly, messages flooding in and not stopping. Peeking over Wifies’s shoulder, Ken makes a disgusted expression at Parrot’s chat being at the top of Wifies’s DMs. Parrot is absolutely spamming Wifies’s inbox. Ken’s going to eat him for dinner.

“Ah,” Wifies says. He then proceeds to ignore Parrot to text Retro. Good. Fuck that guy.

“What does he want?” Ken asks, not because he really cares but because if Parrot pisses him off again, he can justify going at him with an axe.

“Maybe. . . Maybe not right now,” Wifies’s voice is weak.

The messages roll to a stop. Good! And then Ken’s comm starts ringing off like shots. Goddamn it. Ken pulls out his comm. It is Parrot. Awful. Now Wifies and Wato move to peek over his shoulder as his inbox becomes utterly unusable.

[Parrotx2]: Ken

[Parrotx2]: I’m sorry

[Parrotx2]: not to you

[Parrotx2]: well I can be sorry to you too but I’m sorry that I reacted like that to Wifies

[Parrotx2]: and I just need him to know that I’m sorry

[Parrotx2]: and I know you hate my guts

[Parrotx2]: but you said he was happy right? I made him happy

[Parrotx2]: I don’t think I’ve ever made someone happy by just existing

[Parrotx2]: cause fuck, it’s not like I’ve done anything for him

[Parrotx2]: Ken what the fuck did I do

[Parrotx2]: please just let him know I’m sorry

[Parrotx2]: and that I didn’t mean to blow up

[Parrotx2]: you’d think I’d be used to betrayal but with him, it felt so much worse than betrayal

[Parrotx2]: like I had failed to be trustworthy

[Parrotx2]: the reveal was a lot, but I felt more hurt than disgusted or scared

[Parrotx2]: I don’t care if he’s a clone

[Parrotx2]: I mean I care if he wants me to care. I want him to want me to care about him.

[Parrotx2]: I care about him in general

[Parrotx2]: plus whoever the guy before him was was a bitch

[Parrotx2]: he’s like so much better in a million ways

[Parrotx2]: not the point

[Parrotx2]: the point is my caring of him is not reliant on his clone status

[Parrotx2]: I can tell he’s got a comm now cause my messages are showing up as received

[Parrotx2]: does he hate me now?

[Parrotx2]: he has every right

[Parrotx2]: I can’t even pretend that he shouldn’t hate me

[Parrotx2]: Ken I don’t want him to hate me

[Parrotx2]: I don’t know if I can live with that

[Parrotx2]: I fucked up so badly

[Parrotx2]: the worst part is I trust him

[Parrotx2]: I made this whole fuss about trust and I still trust him

[Parrotx2]: of course I do, he’s the single most trustworthy person I’ve ever met

[Parrotx2]: I’ve slept in the same room as him for months and I never even worried

[Parrotx2]: he could’ve left or betrayed me or killed me literally at any point

[Parrotx2]: and he never did! even if it would’ve made his life easier

[Parrotx2]: what the fuck was I thinking?

“Ugh. Do you wanna talk to him right now?” Ken asks, turning his head towards Wifies. He gets a face full of sweet smelling curly hair.

“. . . I don’t know,” Wifies says, resting his chin snuggly onto Ken’s shoulder.

[_Kenadian_]: can you shut up. jesus.

[Parrotx2]: sorry

[_Kenadian_]: yes he has a comm now

[_Kenadian_]: he’ll talk to you when he talks to you

[_Kenadian_]: you made him cry yknow

“Ken!” Wifies hisses, cheek warming up where it’s now pressed to the side of Ken’s throat. “Why did you tell him that?”

[Parrotx2]: fuck I’m sorry

[_Kenadian_]: yeah he knows

[_Kenadian_]: just

[_Kenadian_]: give him some space

[_Kenadian_]: also dont text me like that whats wrong with you

[_Kenadian_]: i want you so dead its not even funny

[_Kenadian_]: this is the SECOND time you make him cry

“Ken!!”

[Parrotx2]: I

[Parrotx2]: what?

[_Kenadian_]: wouldnt you like to know bird boy

[Parrotx2]: why would you tell me that

[_Kenadian_]: you need to understand the consequences of what you do

[_Kenadian_]: wifies never lets you see but i do and i think you should writhe

[_Kenadian_]: you care so much? lets see.

[_Kenadian_]: writhe bird boy writhe

“That’s mean,” Wifies says as Ken closes his comm, but he doesn’t move a single muscle.

“You should’ve made it worse,” Wato says. “Should’ve told him Wifies was comatose or something.”

“Jeez, since when are you so vicious?” Wifies asks, but Ken is almost certain he and Wato are holding hands behind Ken’s back.

“I approve,” Ken says, bumping his head into Wato’s lightly. “Anyway, take as long as you want to ignore Parrot. Forever, even. I’d also approve of forever.”

Wato hums in agreement. Wifies sighs again, much lighter than before.

“Just a little while,” he says to Ken’s vast displeasure. “Just until I can stomach it. I shouldn’t have run away.”

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want, actually. Forever.”

Wifies giggles, and Ken finally feels himself relax a little. If Wifies is laughing, then it’ll be okay. He still feels anger pulsing within him like a second heartbeat, but it softens when Wifies bumps the top of his head into Ken's cheek. Not gone, never gone, but quietened enough to let Wifies speak for himself.

Ken trusts Wifies despite his own opinion. So he'll keep true and hold Wifies close no matter what.

“We still gotta talk about your feelings,” Wato says, and Wifies whines, trying to hide his face further into Ken's shoulder. 

“It's so embarrassing,” he murmurs.

“I'd be embarrassed too if I cried over Parrot of all people,” Ken deadpans. 

Wifies groans. Ken won't let him get away this time.

[moonstruckme]

Idk if you’re still taking requests for your bake sale (which is the cutest idea btw) but if you are… apple pie, prompt number 31 with Steve? (three people sat on a two-seater sofa)

I was! This probably wasn't what you had in mind but I thought it would be silly so here you go :)

cw: alcohol

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 693 words

“Stay still.” Steve’s voice is low, a smile teasing his lips. “I’ve almost got it.” 

You roll your eyes at him, but your own smile is just as poorly repressed. You still love it when he flirts with you. Even when you’re at one of his friend-of-a-friend’s parties where everyone wants to talk with him, Steve only has eyes for you. 

“I don’t know how you missed it the first three times.” 

“Does it seem like I’m fucking around? It’s tricky, babe.” 

“Seems like you might be fucking around a little bit…” you tease.

Steve swipes at something under your eye. “Got it. What’d I tell you?” 

You beam at him. “Okay, I take it back. My hero.” 

His grin widens, but he squints at your face. “Yeah, except now you’ve got makeup on your cheek. Sorry.” 

“Really.” You frown, wiping at where he’d touched with your finger. It must have smeared your mascara. “Can you get it off?” 

“Yeah, just a sec, you’ve gotta make a wish first.” Steve holds up his finger in front of you, your eyelash balanced on its tip. 

You roll your eyes again, but neither of you are buying that you’re anything other than totally besotted with him. You inhale, holding your wish in your head. 

You blow the lash harder than you mean to when you’re jostled from behind. 

Steve frowns over your shoulder. The guy behind you has found a new and innovative way to make out with his girlfriend, him leaning over the edge of the couch and her on the beanbag below. The two of them set up camp long after you and Steve had been sitting on this couch, and the limited space means he occasionally bumps you in his enthusiasm. 

“We should move,” Steve says, not for the first time. 

“No way,” you reply again. “We were here first.” 

“This couch wasn’t made for three people.” 

You huff, irritated. “Yeah, but all the other seating is taken.” 

“I’ll get us a nice patch of carpet,” he bargains. “We’ll treat it like a picnic.” 

You shake your head. You know you’re being stupid, but it’s the principle of the thing. You want the guy who’d squeezed onto your couch to have to share it with you. “It’s not fair that we have to be the ones to move,” you say. 

Steve sighs, but his expression is fond. “Fine. At least swap places with me.” 

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Your funeral,” you say, but you scoot into the spot he leaves vacant when he stands.

Steve presents a stronger front than you had, sitting up instead of leaning away from where the other guy is infringing upon his space. 

“Alright, c’mere,” he says, reaching for you. “Let me get your makeup.” 

You lean forward happily. Steve uses the condensation from his beer to wet his thumb, rubbing at your cheek concentratedly. It’s then that your couch companion chooses to sit up. Evidently, he really had forgotten he was sharing the couch with two other people, because he knocks right into Steve, causing your boyfriend to lurch forward and for a bit of his beer to spout over the lip of the bottle and into your laps. 

You press a hand over your mouth, laughing, while Steve expels an incredulous breath. 

The guy looks back as though surprised to find him there. “Sorry, man.” He claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder, wandering off. 

“Quick,” you urge, “scoot back!” 

When Steve doesn’t move fast enough, you get up and move behind him, taking up the other side of the couch and stretching out your legs so there’s no space for anyone else. 

“What an ass.” Steve still looks in shock. 

“At least we held down the fort,” you say gleefully. “We won in the end.” 

“We won?” He laughs. “You’ve got beer on your pants, baby.” 

You shrug, ignoring the cold on your legs. “A small price to pay for victory.” 

Steve huffs, but he’s grinning, crawling across the couch to meet you. “You are so—” he kisses you firmly “—stubborn.” 

“Mhm, yeah. Now get back in your place before somebody takes it.” 

[tabithatwo]

just a few of my jackie taylor is a lesbian and she knows it (or she at LEAST knows she likes women) thoughts

the opening. “jackie panting” on the infamous lesbian aunt photo. we are introduced to her for the first time without the other girls as firmly NOT enjoying whatever jeff is attempting while we are zoomed in on a picture of Her And Shauna.

she fakes it to get him to stop. that isn’t necessarily lesbian on its own, but the way she does it?? the completely unconcerned manner/low effort? this man is so low stakes for her. you know straight women are out there putting on actual Performances. this is not that. she knows she has to keep him in an intellectual/societal way and that’s her only goal

i don’t feel like i really need to explain this one? if you are a lesbian that ever tried to be with men i think this expression in response to those words speaks for itself lmao. our girl is Tired

this scene is jackie almost Emotionless. we don't see that a ton, especially not in her day to day. she is apathetic and trying not to Think about what she's doing. i left the subtitles on for a reason bc "today is the greatest" is very in line with "jackie panting" from earlier

they did NOT want us to miss the "aggressive tooth brushing" (as its written in the script). we have her image FOUR TIMES in this. this scene doesn't read as someone who is only annoyed bc her bf is bad in bed. this screams disassociation and knowing what is expected of you.

the necklace touch!! the way jackie associates this pendant w shauna comes up so much. shauna has been embedded in this scene throughout. jackie clearly hated hooking up w jeff and she looks in the mirror and touches her necklace after with This face

think about how jackie reacted to jeff. how she looks at him, the faces she makes when he leaves, her general energy. now in contrast we’re gonna see how she reacts to shauna (both shauna and jackie jump from disdain when seeing jeff to giddy little idiots when seeing each other) see also: YOUR KISSES ARE WICKED

this is FLIRTING the little faces she makes and her reachy little arm and her giggling? this is jackie flirting. we see her do this w jeff *in public* when its performative, but she's actively choosing to flirt with shauna right now like if you don't see that idk what to tell you

do not get me started about the music but this caption is killing me (see also: FLIRTY EXPRESSION)

the language she uses discussing deciding to sleep with jeff. "i've decided its time" and my ultimate favorite "its more poetic that way." thinking of sex w men as a task and fictionalizing it?? removing herself from the act itself?? lesbianism!! AND directly after the sleeping with jeff convo, jackie jumps into their dorm colors (PINK AND GREEN i could do a whole side tangent about hyperfemininity as a signal of lesbianism but i digress) and her tone is way more excited and invested than the one she used for sleeping with her bf

in conclusion, that’s my little lesbian

[killusmoke]

◜ ͡ ◝ৎ ͜ ◞ ۫ ♪ slow dancing in the dark

⟡ dancing with cloud in a random empty field in the dark

cw : x fem!reader with she/her pronouns, tooth-rottening fluff (as always lol)

♬ - slow dancing in the dark (please listen to this while you read! I love this song <3)

The night was quiet, with only the soft hum of the wind brushing past the trees. Stars dotted the sky, twinkling like tiny diamonds above. The air was cool, but not too cold, just enough to make the moment feel crisp and alive, with the wind blowing gently on you. Cloud had led you out into the open field just beyond town, where the lights of the houses were mere specks in the distance.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness that surrounded you both.

Cloud turns to you, his usual stoic expression softened in the moonlight. His eyes, those deep, soulful blue eyes, catch yours, and for a moment, it feels like time has stopped. He steps closer, holding out a hand toward you, his expression a mix of tenderness and a hint of shyness.

“Dance with me?” His voice is gentle, a stark contrast to the battles and chaos the two of you have been through. But right now, in this moment, there’s only him and you, and the night that surrounds you both.

You smile, your heart fluttering at the thought. “Of course.”

You take his hand, and he pulls you closer, wrapping one arm securely around your waist while your free hand finds its place on his chest. You sway together, slow and steady, with faded music playing in the distance assisted with the faint rustle of the wind through the grass. The world around you fades into the background, leaving only the sensation of Cloud’s warmth and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your palm.

His chin rests lightly on the top of your head as you both fall into a gentle rhythm. The wind picks up slightly, ruffling Cloud’s messy blonde hair, but you don’t mind. It feels like something out of a dream, the kind of moment you’d want to last forever.

“I never thought I’d be doing something like this,” Cloud murmurs, his voice vibrating softly against you. There’s a smile hidden in his tone.

You chuckle softly, leaning back to look up at him. “Really? I thought you’d be the dancing type,” you tease.

He lets out a soft laugh, his hand tightening ever so slightly around your waist. “Not really. But… for you, I’ll do anything.” His voice drops slightly as he pauses, his eyes catching the sparkle in yours. “I know how much you love dancing, and…” He hesitates for a moment, his gaze softening. “I wanted to do something special for you. Just for you.”

Your breath hitches at his words, and for a moment, you simply stare into each other’s eyes, the connection between you so strong it makes your chest ache. Slowly, Cloud leans down, his eyes soft but still locked on yours, silently asking for permission without saying a word.

You close the distance, and his lips meet yours in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s not rushed or hurried. It’s slow, full of unspoken emotions, as if he’s trying to tell you everything he feels in that one moment. His hand moves up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin tenderly as he deepens the kiss just slightly.

When you finally pull away, your foreheads rest together, breaths mingling in the cool night air.

“I could stay like this forever,” you whisper, your voice laced with contentment.

Cloud’s eyes soften, a rare, genuine smile pulling at his lips. “Me too.”

And with the stars above and the wind wrapping around you both, you continue to sway, lost in the peacefulness of each other’s embrace.

a/n: i want to make my posts dark but idk how to change the post color itself 💔 it clashes with my profile aesthetic sm... anyway look at this cute pic of my husband ￬