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last-words-ofashootingstar · 18 hours ago

Note

Will we get to see any NSFW stuff with Mommy!Hwa?🥺

I totally understand if not but I just know he would go feral while pleasing his Baby😩

➯a/n: yes. yes. YES. OH MY GAWD YEA LFHSKQ I ABOUT COMBUSTED WHEN I SAW SOMEONE ASKED FOR THIS 😭i was so excited that i kept losing my train of thought and had to rant about how mommy hwa is in bed to calm down bahaha

Mess

Baby Series !

❥Yandere Park Seonghwa x fem reader

♡'･ᴗ･'♡genre: yandere, smut

✫彡wordcount: 4.5k

♫ "It feels good, girl, it feels good to be alone with you." Hozier, To Be Alone♫

♫Baby Playlist♫

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not proof read, ddlg themes (NO age regression), dubcon (because of stockholm syndrome), hwa is a PERVERT, messy and rough sex, cunnilingus, fingering, spit, squirting, overstim, extreme dacryphilia, creampie, big dick hwa, reassurance, unbelievable amount of praise and pet names, embarrassment, accidental piss kink discovery (LMAO DONT LOOK AT MEEEE)

♡ateez masterlist !♡

➯disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and does NOT represent a healthy relationship of any kind. ➯disclaimer2: as i've said before it is VERY important to always keep age regression and age play SEPARATE, and ive also said that seonghwa never touches baby while she's in little space MANY times. baby is not "baby mode" when they are being intimate, and i will never write that. baby is ALWAYS going to be in "adult space" (kkkk i can't think of a better word) when sexual things are happening, even if she acts cutesy and stuff

MINORS DO NOT TOUCH MY BLOG

❝you're my baby, say it to me�� ✧ ೃ༄ ｡

"Here you go," Seonghwa whispers as he tosses your shirt to a far off corner of the room; completely forgotten about as he slowly slides his hands up your sides, "let me see my girl."

"Don't be a tease, Mommy," you pant softly, already worked up beyond belief as your eyes flick up and down his naked torso.

You had joined him in going a few hours away from home for a photo shoot — of course you did, it's not like he would ever leave you behind. You watched with his manager, which was probably a mistake considering how hot and bothered it made you. You hadn't felt like slipping into your little space all day long, probably because you were so busy gawking at your 'boyfriend'.

Because it was so far away, there was a hotel room waiting for you when he was done. And he wasn't blind, he saw the way you were looking at him. He knows you like he knows the back of his hand — even better, actually.

So this room is going to get a lot more use than originally expected.

"But you're so cute when you're flustered," he smirks, cupping your chest gently as he leans down and pecks your lips. "Does my pretty baby want to play?"

You nod quickly, fisting the blanket with anticipation bubbling up. Remember your manners, "oh- oh, yes! Yes, please, I want to..."

You hadn't been intimate together since you had a tantrum and yelled at him, almost a month ago now. That probably partly why you were so needy — if he isn't the one making you cum, it's not happening at all.

He doesn't need more convincing than that. He straddles your hips and cups your face like he doesn't have a second to waste, his kiss is different than it usually is. It's hungry and passionate and soul consuming.

He can't help himself. He doesn't have any restraint when it comes to pleasing you. Anything you want, save for your freedom, is yours the second he can do something about it.

And he won't admit it out loud, but he's just as needy as you are.

His inconvenient hard-ons have been more frequent and frustrating. He's lucky you haven't noticed the way his eyes have been lingering when he helps you change. He's sexually frustrated, sure — but he keeps to his promise and he almost always waits for you to come to him.

No matter how badly he wants you, he wants you to want him more. He needs you to.

He starts peppering kisses along your skin; traveling lower and giving attention to your chest. As your fingers tangle up in his hair, he's moaning like he's the one having their body worshipped. He steadies himself by grabbing your waist, fingers digging in.

A broken moan bubbles up your throat as he wraps his lips around your nipple, "a-ah! Mommy, I need more..."

Oh, he might explode here and now. You call him that every single day — but not like this. Not with your voice filled with lust. Begging him to touch you.

That little tremble in the way you call his name is reserved for times like this.

He takes in a deep breath before he speaks, "tell Mommy what you need." He leans back over your face, hovering with stars in his eyes. Any hint of tiredness from the day is gone. Only passion remains.

"I...w-" Even when you're not in little space, you're so light headed around him. He just has that effect on you, especially after so long.

"C'mon, Baby," he coaxes you gently, giving a single roll of his hips that leaves your jaw dropped with the flood of dopamine that it gives you. "You know I won't judge you, tell me how to make you feel good."

"Please," you look away shyly, like you aren't about to ask something so vulgar. "I need you to make me cum..."

The quickness with which he yanks off your skirt and panties makes you yelp in surprise, but the sound is quickly cut off by a lewd moan as he slips down and gives a slow lick up your slit. All in one fluid movement: he's rid you of the fabric, slid down the bed, and got you on his tongue.

You slap your hand over your mouth as he spreads your thighs, your eyes nearly rolling back at the feeling of his pointed tongue. As he draws a slow circle around your clit, you nearly cum then and there. You've forgotten how skilled he is.

"God, I've missed you," his mumbles are lost on you because next thing you know; he's eating you out like a man starved. Flicking and swirling and lapping and sucking. If your mind could form any semblance of a thought, you might wonder how in the world he's doing all those things at once. And the answer is simple. He was born to please you. At least, that's what he claims.

Your other hand is wrapped in his hair like a lifeline, and the slight stinging with each movement of his head doesn't stop him from licking your clit like a mad man — it only stirs him on.

He's messy as always, slobbering all over your heat without a care in the world.

He gives one last rough suck before he pulls back a bit, panting as he looks up at you. "Baby-ya," he calls as he slides a hand down your thigh and towards your heat. He locks eyes with you as he purses his lips and lets his spit dribble down onto you.

"Mommy-ya," you moan back, grinding up into his hand as it brushes against your epicenter. His middle finger slips in, drawing out a loud "oh~!" from you before you can stop it.

He's never practiced so much self restraint in his life. Even just feeling your hot walls around his finger has him twitching. If he wasn't so dedicated to pleasing you first and foremost, he'd already be buried inside of you. But, his Baby comes first.

"That's a good girl," his praise makes you clench around his digit, your head tossing to the side. It feels like it's been so long. Even just his finger feels like it's hitting all of the wonderful spots inside of you as he slowly starts thrusting it. You can barely imagine what it will feel like when he's inside you again —

"Mommy, please," you groan, swirling your hips until he rests his forearm across your pelvis and holds you down to continue his devilishly slow teasing. "More!"

"I know, Baby, you want me to fuck you so bad, huh?" He nips your thigh as he adds another finger. "Mommy has to stretch you out first~"

"Hurryyyy," you pout as you try to arch your back, trying to suck his fingers in deeper, "I need you."

You don't have to tell him twice, that is for sure. The soft way you cry for him to hurry and fuck you has his brain turning into a feral mush.

You let out your loudest moan yet as his fingers, previously going at a leisurely pace, are now diving in and out of you with near reckless abandon. You can't move your hips, still held down by his arm and forced to take the onslaught of pleasure.

You slam both of your hands over your mouth as you slump back.

He doesn't like that one bit. He reaches up and yanks your hands away; and all while still curling his deliciously long fingers, he speaks, "let me hear you. Be as loud as you want, Baby. We can be as loud as we want, you don't have to be shy."

"Ah, I f-forgot," you whine, your eyebrows pressing together as his fingertips graze against something inside of you that makes you gush around his fingers with more messy arousal.

"It's okay, angel," he laces his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand as he pushes a third finger inside of you. "You can scream. Let Mommy hear how good you feel."

The stretch and the angle and his voice — "don't stop!"

He wouldn't dare. He's watching every twitch of your brow and every jolt your body makes as he searches for something inside of you. When your jaw drops and your eyes roll back, he knows he's found it. He's on a mission. He needs to make you squirt. He needs to make a mess of you.

"Ohhh," he coos deeply, "right there, Baby?"

"R-right there, Mommy!" You don't care about your volume anymore. His reassurance and the way he's practically assaulting your g-spot while holding your hand makes it impossible to care about anything.

"Riiiiight there~" He smirks as you roll your hips clumsily to push his digits deeper; even when his palm is already hitting your clit with every thrust of his fingers. "That's it, pretty girl," he leans over you and drives his fingers in at a whole new angle; pressing harder against the spot that's making you dizzy, "give me a kiss."

Shakily, and quickly, you toss your arm over his neck and yank him down. Your lips on his like you need him more than you need air: and he returns the passion ten fold, he always will.

Your moans are swallowed up by him as he sends you closer to the edge. Closer and closer and closer and straight over. Your release splashes against his lower stomach, the warmth of it makes him send moans right back to you. Your hand is still held tightly in his and he's starting to lose color in his fingers from how tightly you squeeze them.

He lays on top of you to stop your convulsing, a dark satisfaction settling in his bones as you whimper; forced to take the overstimulation as he curls his fingers. It fills the room with lewd squelches that make his neglected member twitch.

A string of saliva keeps you connected as he finally moves away from your lips. He watches it closely as it snaps, falling onto your chin. And you don't even notice it as you have your eyes closed, panting, in the throes of bliss.

He leans and licks it up softly while he slowly withdraws his fingers, making you whine and chase after them with your hips. "Shhh, none of that, Baby." He hums as he rubs down your arm gently, "you ready for me now?"

"Oh, yes," you nod quickly, you almost forgot that's where this was leading. Now, you're ecstatic at the promise of him being even deeper inside of you, "please, Mommy."

God, if you keep saying it like that he won't be able to hold himself back. He knows he'll end up being rough with you — both of you do. But he likes to take it slow at first so he doesn't hurt you.

He bites his lip, quickly pressing his forehead to your shoulder so that you won't see the wild look in his eyes. The look that says he's about to lose control.

"So polite," he pants softly, smiling down at you after he forces himself to calm down. "I'll give my angel what she wants~"

His pants are gone in a second flat, and he's pulling you further down the bed by your thighs until your hips hang on the edge. "Hold your legs for me, Baby," he hums as he pushes your knees together.

While you're wrapping your arms under your knees and hugging them tightly to prepare yourself, effectively exposing yourself to him — he's gathering up the wetness from his skin and lathering himself with it, jerking off slowly to the sight of you.

All worked up and gushing for him; giving him a nice, unobstructed view as you hold your legs as close to your chest as you can. Your eyes a bit fuzzy as you watch him eagerly. Your socked feet fidgeting in the air, white frills catching his eyes. Your breathing still uneven from your first peak of the night.

The first of what will be many, because Seonghwa is an overachiever when it comes to you.

He kisses your leg gently, smiling innocently as he bends down and lines himself with your weeping hole. "My good girl," he mutters softly, "that's what you are. My perfect little angel."

The praise goes straight to your cunt, fluttering around nothing before his tip is suddenly entering you with an almost audible pop. Your eyes slam shut, a gasp caught in your throat. Three fingers and a squirting orgasm suddenly didn't seem like enough prep for Seonghwa's impressive girth.

"Fuck," he groans, hands planted on the back of your thighs to ground himself; digging his fingers into your plush flesh. He leans his head against the side of your legs, gazing down at you with nothing but love and lust. "You gotta relax, Baby-"

"You're too big," you shake your head, eyes still squeezed shut.

He bites his lip in a combination of effort to conceal his chuckle and to hold himself back. He takes a breath, rubbing the back of your thighs softly as you continue to clench around his bulbous tip — it feels like you're already trying to milk him for all his worth. The warmth of your gummy walls is trying to enchant him, trying to make him sink deeper, faster. He needs to bury his whole shaft in you or he's going to lose what's left of his mind.

"Have some faith in yourself, baby-doll," his nickname makes you twitch around him. He did that on purpose, no doubt about it. "You've taken it before, right? Mhm~" He nods with you, reaching to trace your heated cheek with his knuckles as you peek your eyes open. "You can take it, can't you~?"

It's not a question, even if it's formatted as one, rolling off his tongue with a soft inquisitive tone.

It's a reassurance and a statement. You can and you will take it, just like you have so many times before. "Yes, Mommy-"

You should have chosen your words more carefully, because the second 'Mommy' leaves your lips — all whiny and sweet — he's sinking into you.

"Ah-" He almost whines, "that's it, my star~ Let Mommy fill you up."

No matter how much you relax, no matter how pliable you make yourself; he's still having to make his own path through your gooey channel. He's still carving you to the shape of his cock to fit like a custom sleeve. And it feels too fucking good — "Please!" You yelp, nails digging into your legs as you continue to hug them as tightly as possible, "please, I want you to take me already!"

You can't take another second of his slow march forward — but that's too bad, Baby.

He likes to take his sweet, sweet time to really feel your searing cavity as it encases him. "Shhh, Baby, don't you worry," he places another kiss on your leg, smirking as you quiver around him, "you know I'll give you what you want, right?"

He leans over further, crushing your thighs all the way against your chest and making your legs rest over one of his shoulders. "Right, Baby?" He moans as he finally, finally bottoms out.

"Y-yes," you pout up at him beggingly, your entire being set ablaze as he settles inside of you.

For someone built so slim, his cock is thicker than you feel it should be — but you are not complaining as he stretches you from the inside out so nicely.

"What did you say you wanted, hm?" He teases you playfully, withdrawing just an inch before sliding back in.

It's maddening, he does it again; the tiniest bit further this time. "T-aaah!" You kick your feet lightly when one of his hands snakes between you and begins rubbing your clit. "Take me! Go faster, please! Please, plea- oh my good g-aaaah!!" You wail unabashedly as he starts slamming his hips into you: rough, fast, and calculated all while toying with your bundle of nerves.

"Of course, My Baby~"

His words are so sweet while he absolutely ruins you for anyone other than himself. Not even you could make your body fill with the pleasure that you're feeling as he rubs his thumb across your cheek affectionately while drilling into you. "Look at my gorgeous doll, taking me so well."

All you can respond with is a slurred 'mhmmfff', your brain already sufficiently scrambled and overheated from his inhuman pace with his in-and-out, in-and-out; the pad of his finger never leaving your buzzing clit.

"Aww, it feels good?"

You nod quickly, leaning into his cupped hand while you gulp down the build up of saliva in your mouth. His eyes are trained on you like a hawk, every single twitch in your face committed to memory.

"Yeah, it does~" He grins devilishly while giving you a particularly rough slam when he catches your lips parting — making a loud and lewd yip-like moan tumble out.

"Mommy, c-" You choke on your words, arms trembling as you clutch your legs as a lifeline.

"Cumming~?" He hums, pressing his fingers harder to your clit and making you squeal. "Go ahead, Baby, make a mess on Mommy's cock," he licks up your neck and the warm feeling of it passing your jugular makes the burning ball of arousal in your gut spread through your entire body.

Once again, he's holding you down with the weight of his body as you tremble, your jaw dropped in a soundless scream while you release with a wave of cream onto his member; a milky white ring forming around his base while he fucks you through it.

You let your legs go with a whine, letting him gently maneuver them and lay you on your side while he whispers soft praises that barely reach your muddled mind. "N'break..." You slur out through your breaths, melting under his soft touch on your legs.

"A break?" He smiles while rubbing up and down your legs. His cock, still lodged deep inside of you, is throbbing — basically yelling at him not to give you what you ask for. "Just a little one, starlight." Because he isn't done wrecking you yet.

"Thank goodness." Your little sigh makes him chuckle as he forces himself to pull out; doing so slowwwwly to make your sensitive walls tremble and beg him to stay. "...fuck."

The only time you ever dare curse infront of him is when you're like this. And the sound of the filthy words on your precious lips almost makes him take back his promise of a break.

He leans back and stands fully, his heart pounding in his chest even harder as he gets a good look at you.

In nothing but your cute little socks, you're already in a sheen of sweat from the violent thrumming of your own heart after two intense orgasms. There's already two wet spots on the hotel bed, the source between your legs glimmering in the dim lamp light. Your poor pussy lips are already a bit swollen from his stretching and pounding, your legs twitching every so often in the aftershocks of pleasure.

He needs to make a much bigger mess of you before he's satisfied. Some deep, dirty part of his brain demands it. He has to make a mess of you, he just has to — and you've barely cried! That will not do. He needs to ruin you completely and place you back together with his saccharine words. He needs to.

He maneuvers you like a doll, smirking to himself at the trust you have in him to let him move you into whatever position he sees fit.

He kisses your shoulder softly as he lays you on your stomach, crawling over you. "Are you ready for more, Baby?"

"Mhm," you nod, having caught as much as your breath as you could.

"Close your legs for me."

You look back at him with a questioning gaze, "close them? Isn't it the opposite, Mommy?"

"Not today, Baby," he grins as he soothes your messy hair, "you want me to show you what I'm thinking?"

You hesitate for a second before you nod, turning back to face the blanket shyly as he locks his eyes on yours while sliding back inside of you. He breathes a laugh, straddling you from behind and already stretching you to the limit when —

He starts pushing your legs together with his own, making you clamp down on him.

"Oh my g-good fuck!"

"Tight, isn't it~?"

You nod quickly, shivering as he puts almost his full weight on you — and, by extension, on his cock inside of you. By the time he's got your legs fully pressed together, it feels like he's filled you up so much that he's in your guts. And when he starts thrusting? You have no brains left in your head.

"Ahh, yes!"

Your yell stirs him on, making his pace pick up almost immediately and he's back to pounding you like you owe him money; no mercy at all for his precious Baby. The slap of his skin on yours echoing and making his stomach flutter. The way you can't even hold back a single noise, every hit of his pelvis to your hips making a small yelp or moan tremble out of your lips. This is his new favorite position. His only complaint is that he can't see the cute little faces you have to be making right now.

You certainly don't have any complaints. He feels like a fucking giant as he pounds the life out of you but his arms are gentle as he wraps them around your shoulders — all of his weight on you besides what he uses to slam into you. A shattered gasp leaves you as you feel his cock prod you so rough and deep that it presses into the mattress through you.

He feels it too, and heaven help you; because now he's never changing his angle. Groaning and praising right in your ear as he continues to relentlessly fuck you into the mattress — quite literally. "Oh, My Baby," he moans deeply, "Mommy is fucking you so deep~ And you're taking it like such a good girl. F-fuck..."

He's pressing every spot inside of you that there is. Even one that you've never felt before — no, that's not right. You have felt that pressure before. But not when you're having sex.

He's fucking you so deep that he's putting pressure on your bladder.

You gasp loudly, clenching around him, "Mommy! Wa-" Clenching was a mistake. Usually, it helps you hold it. Not this time. It pulls him closer. You grab at the blanket, fisting it tightly. Fuck, this is embarrassing. Well, you'd rather just say it so he can stop and you can relieve yourself.

"Mommy, st-op! M'gonna pee myself!"

Only... Seonghwa doesn't stop.

His hips stutter for a moment as he takes in your words — then he's plunging into you impossibly rougher. Like he wants you to. Because he does.

He knows that makes his an unbelievably perverted person; wanting you to piss on his cock. But he can't help it. He couldn't stop right now even if he had to.

He can't put it into coherent thoughts right now, only thinking 'harder, fuck her stupid, make her cry, harder, make her pee, make her break...' But when he eventually can organize his thoughts; he'll realize why he couldn't even speak because he was so focused on fucking the literal piss out of you.

Why? He is the only one on the entire planet that can fuck you so good that you lose control of your bladder. He is the only one to see you so vulnerable. He gets to be filthy with you.

"Mommy!! P-please! I have t'go!"

Bless your heart. You still think he might let you get up and go to the bathroom to relieve your abused bladder.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders tighter, panting and growling like a damn animal in your ear. He's never sounded so dangerous, so feral. He's not even acknowledging your words with any of his own. Only digging his fingers into you and holding your legs shut with his as you try to spread them and get a bit of pressure taken off.

"Please! P- uh!!" You're crying fast, fat tears now, and Seonghwa can hear them in your voice. Not just because of your embarrassing predicament, but because it feels like pure ecstasy in your very being despite it. "Mm, fuck!" You whine loudly, still feeling his tip press against the bed through you every time he bottoms out. "M-mommy, se-riously! M'gonna pee!"

"So do it." His words make you wail, shaking your head as vigorously as possible and instinctively clenching again even though it does nothing to help your situation. He presses somehow deeper as he leans his head up and looks over your shoulder at you.

His cock throbs inside of you, making you gasp, as he watches the tears flow down your heated face. Now he's getting somewhere.

"It's okay, Baby-ya," he hums, his chest vibrating against your back as he crushes you to the bed, "do it. For- for me."

"Tha-that's dirty!" You hiccup, kicking your legs until he places his over them.

"You're already l-leaking everywhere, angel~ You're already creaming all over me. Do it."

"Nmf-" You bite your lip roughly, a defeated squeak in your throat as a spurt comes out with his thrust. You try to hold the rest in. You really try. Despite his encouragement, you're still mortified.

His next few thrusts earn him the same thing, a lewd splash against the bed. It's so fucking warm. He's digging his nails into you by the time you finally stop holding it back.

The relief is almost as good as the orgasm that slams into you like a tsunami.

You're a complete mess below him. Sobbing, kicking your feet, gripping the blanket so tightly your hands are shaking — all of you is shaking. Trembling like leaf in the wind as relief and pleasure overwhelm your humiliation and creates a feeling you've never dealt with before.

And Seonghwa isn't far behind you. He thinks his body must know not to make him cum while he's watching the absolute work of art he's made of you, not until you finally slump below him. Then, though — he's slamming one last time until your soaking cunt and staying as deep as humanly possible while he cums, holding you so tightly that you might have heard something pop if not for your absolute fried brain and his guttural moan drowning it out.

Yeah. This is his favorite position now, for sure.

❝MESS❞ ✧ ೃ༄ ｡

#ateez #request #yandere ateez #park seonghwa #yandere park seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #ateez smut #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa au #yandere x reader #smut fic #yandere fanfic #park seonghwa x reader #yandere fic #ateez fic #seonghwa smau #yandere seonghwa #yandere ateez x reader

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candywife333 · 3 days ago

Text

You Could Never

Pairing: Jungkook singer x chubby y/n

PART 1 of Places You Never Were

Not edited as usual and should end with part 2. Really poured my heart out in this one, hope you like it!

Triggers: sad feelings, crude words and description, intense unrequited love, heart break

She had loved him in the silent ways. And he had simply let her, as though he was doing her a favor.

He never asked for anything but he always accepted. The hearty home cooked meals , the cheerful messages reminding him to sleep early and take a break when he needed it, the silence when resounding echoes of the world around him got too loud. When he needed an escape. Always there.

Foolish girl. I was always there. Invisible, woven into the tapestry of his life --a single seamless thread overarching the entire narrative. Always there, but never seen.

Too trivial to be seen. To be seen with. In the background of his life like a never ending tune.

Even the way he broke up with me was trivial. Like I held no meaning to him after 5 long years of holding him down. It was a text, after he had left for one of his international tours with the rest of his group.

I never told him about what I saw in the studio that day. I simply bottled it up, the grief and then the rage, rocking myself to sleep in tears -dwelling on things of the past that would haunt me.

That night was when they all hitched a late night flight to America from South Korea. It was 5 AM when I received the text, "Let's take a break Y/N. I know this feels like it came out of nowhere, but come on. You know that we haven't been the same since a while now. It's best for me and you , so we can stay focused on our professional goals".

I read the text, a manic, dry laugh escaping my throat. Like something in me had cracked. Permanently. Focused on professional goals. So that was what he was doing with that dancer in that studio late into the evening. Pursuing professional goals. I see, I guess that's what they called whoring around nowadays.

We both knew whose goals he truly cared about. His. Because, even though I had been transforming his career and his life selflessly, mine had changed very little. I was still under-study to a producer, not even an official one. That's what happens when you take shit. From everyone. Including people at work. I guess my relationship dynamics had translated into my work as well.

Days evolved into weeks.

Weeks of unwashed, crusty dishes and funky smelling, dirty hair. But if I didn't show up for any more days- I would be unemployed. So I went back to work. The producer I worked under, Kang, still forgot my name though I had been working with him for a number of years. Still getting his dry wash, still making his piss water coffee, still organizing messy shelves-fixing his life instead of mine. Still unnoticed.

But the world doesn't wait for you. Even when you are decaying and decomposing inside. The machine of the industry won't ever stop. For anyone. The world wouldn't let me recover, headlines flooded with rumors of his projects, his hook-ups, his relationships, collaborations, him.

The text still reverberated in my ears, as if he had spoke it out loud , "Let's take a break". Five years down the drain. Spilled milk. And maybe that's why they call these things break-ups. Because it literally breaks you from the inside out... corroding parts of you that you tend to take for granted. Trust and optimism in the world gone in the blink of an eye.

Those were the days I wish my love was unrequited. If it had just stayed a pipe dream, at least it wouldn't have broken me like this.

I still didn't know where I went wrong. I still didn't as I went through the motions of my monotonous life. He had been warm to me. Kind and considerate, loving. He had called me his rock, his calm in the storm that was his life. All lies. I should've known that I was just a phase in his life. A passing summer rain. We were too different to work in reality.

His life is noisy and vibrant. He lives in stages and luxury hotel rooms. Rented Villas. He passes through places, nothing ever permanent. I live in the embrace of soft blankets worn out by the passage of time and faded covers of books I have thumbed through the pages of a million times. In an apartment I had stayed in for 6 years now.

My eyes fall on memories--all too painful. I try not to think of them, to not see them. Mementos of times gone by. A backstage pass, a hoodie he left behind, a birthday card signed in his messy loopy signature. The pain never dulls, even though its been a few months since the fall out. He has been jet-setting across the globe for his tour.

And just when I thought it could not hurt anymore than it already did. I saw them at the award show. The dancer and him. Walking hand in hand. The dancer was dressed in a golden shimmery fabric, floating across with floor with her lengthy, frail arm on his buff, tuxedo clad shoulder. My producer had told me to come, a networking event from hell.

I was dressed in black, as most of the junior crew were. A drab black shirt and pants that couldn't cover my hefty frame well enough. As if it wasn't enough to see him with her, his speech poured salt on the raw edges of my wounds. "Thank you to our fans, our team, our families", he drawled smoothly. "And to all the people behind the scenes who have seen all versions of me and still helped me to walk this path and achieve so much when I was lost. You are all part of my journey and I am forever grateful".

I felt like I had been sharply slapped on my cheek. I had been relegated to the supporting cast in his life, the side character, the background. It seemed to me, that's all I ever was. The supporting character in someone else's life. He looked through the crowd, his gaze fixing on me - a flicker of recognition. A momentary lapse in his nonchalant composure.

I look forward at him as though he was immaterial, as though he was invisible. Because to me in that moment that was what he had become. He had erased my existence from his life. And he did so proudly.

I didn't win anything that night.

But I sure as hell was done losing.

________________________________________________________

The studio looked different now that it had nothing to do with him. I had purged all signs of him from the studio. The ones that I could anyway. Gone were the days were I scurried around like a mouse, silent and hesitant to pitch in ideas.

I stayed longer than everyone else. I was building myself. Something I should have done from the beginning. Instead of building up someone else. Learning and absorbing all the skills of the producers and engineers around me. Fine-tuning layered vocals, manipulating sample sounds to fit in with a track. Lacing together vocals with syncopated beats.

I asked. Something I never did before. I let them take a risk on me, trying the controls myself when they offered. I worked on demos on my own and one day when I was busy munching on a veggie sandwich , my boss came in, a wry smile on his face , crooning melodically, "You've got it".

I stared at him confused. Stuttering, "Sss...ir what do you mean"? He went on resolutely as though he had made up his mind, "You got it kid. The gumption and the genius. Drop all the projects you are working on as of today. You will be working for a solo artist, crafting together their title tracks".

I sat there completely mind-blown as he walked away as fluidly as he had come in, just as silently.

I worked on the tracks day and night. The rough work schedule and my disinterest in food making me lose weight and gain skills I never thought I had. I thought I didn't have it in me. But I layered every track, made every decision regarding arrangements- no matter how minute. I could hear a hint of the insertion of one trumpet and the chords of one piano piece and know which part of which track I was in. I was obsessive. It had to be how I envisioned it.

The room was silent the day of the title track recording. "Alright", I said to the awaiting room, all head producers and boss in to hear the recording. "Let's make sure the verses for track 3 are minimal , raw, with low reverb. Pull in the strings, and build the tension . Make sure to make it sharp in terms of enunciation of lyrics because once we break the tension... there will be silence in the track ".

The young soloist frantically noted it down, teaming with fear and wide eyes as I explained how it should progress.

One of the senior producers who wouldn't even have acknowledged me before raised his hand. "Are you certain that such a drop, with silence, wouldn't be too precarious. Don't you think it would lose the interest of listeners"?

This time was not the time I doubted myself. I had slowly stopped doing that as I had crafted these tracks together. "I am sure", I firmly responded. " There are too many ballads-especially pop ballads nowadays with the same over produced noises. Silence occasionally would do the audience some good".

There was a brief overture of silence in the room till another producer sighed.

"Let's give it a go".

In the booth, the artist sang the song over the arrangement, and as i sat in the control room--I felt so joyous. Something I hadn't felt in a while. The tracks with the voice sounded honest...truthful... and so beautiful. I let his voice crack because that brought beauty to some tracks. The rawness with the music arrangements enveloping them, even brought tears to a few producers in the room.

When the artist came out of the booth, he fearfully looked at me, "I am so sorry... for my voice cracking. I promise I will do better. Please let me record them again". He looked at me, like I would take away everything he worked for. But I am not that type of person...I don't take people away from their dreams.

I whispered back to him, "We are keeping the tracks as is. If your voice didn't crack, I would feel like you were singing lies. But you can't lie on these tracks... they have to be honest , even if they are painful. Thanks for lending your voice and bringing them to life".

He smiled back at me, his pink bangs fringing his watery, teary eyes. And you know what, I was not at all close to this guy. But I could feel my eyes tear up too. Some bonds are forged differently. We laughed at each other , leaky eyes meeting as the rest of the producers clapped me on the back, exiting the room.

It was the birth of something new.

______________________________________________

The track dropped 2 months later. No heavy marketing circuit. Just a midnight release and accompanying dance performance done by the artist to certain tracks on music bank and other channels.

It was everywhere by that morning. Flooding the radio, in all stores, in clubs, cafes , playing everywhere--even in a few ads and the central track anticipated to be in one long awaited korean drama which had already included it in its trailer .

The title track dominated the charts with its "charming simplicity" and "devastating lyrics and arrangement". Even the most astringent of critics lauded it as a "heart wrenching series of compositions that mimicked the death of love". Artists used it in edits and sang along to it. Even avid indie lovers who tended to harp on mostly overproduced pop songs spelled it out to be " the sound of scratching your soul on glass shards , melancholy and akin to slowly bleeding to death".

Placed in cursive handwriting below the title, in credits was my first name. Embossed in red script on the bottom of the album. Something for once, in its entirety, belonged to me.

The artist, Jimin, blew up overnight as well. He was a part of Jungkook's group and a lesser known member. He had been struggling til now to make an identity for himself, to distinguish himself as he had what some considered " weaker vocals" and only dance skills to show. But with this album, he ascended into the ranks. Showing up on billboard, even getting international acclaim. Invited to perform at the VMAs.

With my production and lyrics, and his innate talent, he beat out Jungkook's solo for the No. 1 spot on the Korean Hot 100- and stayed there for 4 weeks straight.

His fans argued that it was a fluke, a temporary deviation. Nothing to write home about.

But the talents and the machinery of the industry knew better.

Jungkook may have been spectacular, but he lacked depth. Depth and soul that the newcomer had. Singing that sounded like crying... that resounded in the souls of everyone who heard the artist live. And now the soul had someone's name encrypted into it, one that the industry couldn't afford to pretend away any longer.

Headlines ravaged the press, "Rookie member Dethrones Veteran Soloist in Weekly Chart", "Clash of Members due to Superior Skills ", "The Death and Birth of Pop".

All dramatic titles that reached me. I laughed dryly at the soap opera that was being played out in the headlines.

My life sure was changing quickly. I was being fought over...artists wanted me to direct and produce their albums. I had moved out of my apartment into a cozy house that I had always wanted, since I was a little girl. A homey, spacious cottage with a massive garden filled with fruit and flower trees.

My earnings were sky-rocketing and I bought properties to ensure that in case something happened, I still had the means to stay in my new house (that I now never wanted to leave).

At work I felt like I belonged. The other producers listened to my thoughts and took it seriously. I had my hands in a lot of projects. And it was all working out.

I showed up on my first talk show , a panel named "The Sound of Music". It was an entire show talking about female empowerment through music as a medium. The host of the show asked, "You have been behind the scenes for the longest time. Was your success something you expected"?

I pondered the question for a bit. "No, definitely not. But I built it , thinking that the outcome was inevitable . That there is no way I could possibly fail".

And that is how I continued my work. My newfound stability was reflected in my appearance. I had lost some weight from following a healthy lifestyle and my curves that had at one point made me look frumpy, now looked well-proportioned on my frame. No way would I be a model by any means, but my figure suited my frame. I was feeling more active than ever.

But life can't stay perfect like that now, can it? A headline dominated the frame of the news articles, "Idol involved in DUI, severely injured. Can he survive this"?

I stared at the title in bewilderment. Can he? Did he survive? I guess we'll find out.

#bts x plus size reader #chubby reader #bts x reader #angst #bts x reader plus size #bts x y/n #bts x chubby reader #bts x chubby y/n #unrequited love #heartbreak

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ginawankenobi · 2 days ago

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Shannon Rutherford Defense Squad, unite!

Point #1: Self-deprecation. Shannon's been told she's "useless," stupid, flaky, etc for most of her damn life (I blame Sabrina Carlyle, may she rot in hell), and at some point, she started to believe it. We saw the last shreds of true confidence leave her when Sabrina the Middle-Aged Witch denied her the opportunity to take the internship she earned. Shannon knew she would succeed, she was so proud of herself (and rightfully so!) for having earned a spot, and she had to give it up and listen to her evil stepmother tell her yet again that she didn't have what it takes. It was her breaking point, and from there on out she became determined to be exactly who Sabrina said she was. Why should she try to be anything else? No one believed in her, anyway, not even Boone, who constantly repeated his mother's catchphrases. Shannon was forced into a box, and though she tried to break out of it several times, she kept being forced back in until she stopped resisting.

Point #2: Beauty and Brains. Shannon is smart as hell. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to learn a new language AT ALL, let alone without formally studying it?? She became at least halfway fluent in French just by being around people who spoke it and picking it up. THAT TAKES SOME SERIOUS BRAINS, PEOPLE. I studied French for 5 years and I don't think I was ever as good at it as she was. She is innovative, she solves problems - using Vincent to track Walt when she saw him in the jungle? Genius. Getting Charlie to catch that fish? Hilarious and inspired.

Point #3: Grief and Trauma. Shannon loses her dad very suddenly at an early age - I was just a bit younger than her when I lost my dad in a similarly unexpected way, and let me tell you I would not wish that shit on ANYONE. It changes you. It alters your soul. Shannon's world was turned upside down, and she was left with a stepvillain who truly didn't care if she lived or died. (Fuck Sabrina Carlyle, have I mentioned that?) Even after enduring a trauma like that, Shannon remained optimistic and worked hard to get the future she wanted. Had she had even an ounce of support from Sabrina, things would have been entirely different, but "oh no, the teenage girl is kind of flighty and doesn't always know exactly what she wants, so instead of actually teaching her anything, I need to teach her a LESSON and cut her off completely because I'm an evil bi--" Okay, I'm done, I'm calm, I'm fine. I detest Sabrina Carlyle a completely normal amount.

Point #4: Love. Shannon had such an immense capacity for love! She bonds with Claire and Sun early on, and those two are beloved (for good reason), so why does Shannon get overlooked and hated on? (Misogyny.) She obviously loved her dad pretty fiercely. She bonds with Walt, she takes care of Vincent, and of course, she is so tender toward Sayid.

There is so much more I could say, but we will leave it at that for now. In short, Shannon Rutherford deserves the world, and I will stand ten toes down to defend her any day of the week.

#shannon rutherford defense squad #shannon rutherford #sayid x shannon #character analysis #lost 2004 #lost abc

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sentientgolfball · 3 days ago

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The bomb strapped to my chest whispers evil thoughts to me and it told me that it needs dewtom or raintom or both subtle affection day 8

Mushy May: Subtle Affection

oh god oh fuck ok here you go I hope the bomb doesn't mind the sprinkle of swiss angst

enjoy about 1k words of Rain and Phantom being sweet despite it all

As the music cuts off and the main lights flash on, the ghouls and Perpetua file off stage. Praise is passed around for another good show, but just like every other night, rather than listen to another word Phantom darts off. And just like every other night, it breaks Rain’s heart.

Everyone else has taken to giving Phantom their space. All for different reasons. Cirrus is too clouded with her own grief of missing Cumulus and now Swiss. Mountain has been trying desperately to keep her afloat. Dew claims having space while the wound is still fresh is good, but Rain can tell by the look in his eyes that it is something deeper than that. Aurora is busy trying to help Solaris navigate through all this while still being so new to this pre-established pack.

Rain still has not accepted it either. He still feels like his skin is too tight when he goes to sleep without Swiss’ scent nearby. He has never existed Topside without him there. It was his summoning that Swiss used to claw his way out of the Pits. Swiss was the first ghoul to ever touch his new body. Swiss has been a lot of things for him since the beginning.

It hurts. It makes his chest ache like his ribs have been cracked open to reveal his tender heart. But what hurts more is seeing Phantom revert to who they were when they first popped out of the ground. Rain cannot take it anymore. He just wants some semblance of his pack back.

That is what leads him to following after Phantom instead of listening to Perpetua’s good job speech. He slips into the green room before they can lock the door. They look at him, eyes tired and heavy. Their frown deepens ever so slightly, but they do not say anything. They grab their bag and shuffle off to the farthest corner of the little room so they can begin changing.

Rain mirrors them, but he keeps watching them from the corner of his eye. He does not want to upset them further, but he is done letting their pain fester. He could not stand it when it was Dew and he will not stand it with Phantom.

Phantom suddenly hisses and whips their head in his direction, “Stop fucking staring at me!”

It looks like the outburst surprises even themselves because the next thing Rain knows, they are grabbing their bag rushing to the door. He stops them though with a gentle hand around their wrist. They freeze, but they do not turn to look at him. Even through the glamour Rain can feel their quintessence buzzing under their skin.

“Phantom—“

“Don’t. I don’t wanna hear it.”

Rain sighs, “I just wanted to ask if you’d stay with me tonight. At the hotel.”

Even without the glow of their scars giving them away, Phantom cannot hide their emotions. He can see the struggle as clear as day on their face.

“I brought Dracula with me. Could read it to you.”

They do not say anything, but the way their hand slips to twine their fingers together tells Rain everything. He nods and squeezes their hand, grabbing his own bag so they can go wait for the van before anyone else arrives. He wishes they did not need to have their glamours up. He wants to twine their tails together, holding Phantom that much closer so they know they are not alone. That nobody else is leaving. That they have a whole pack who cares for them, even when it gets hard.

Thankfully though, the van to the hotel does not take long. One by one the rest of the pack appears, dressed in their after show clothes and ready for a night of sleep in a real bed. They each make an attempt to praise Phantom for all the work they are doing, but they just keep their gaze pointed at their boots.

The ride to the hotel is quick and before either of them know it, Rain and Phantom are up the elevator and into their room for the night. The moment the door closes Rain drops his glamour, sighing as he stretches his tail and fins. Phantom sits on the edge of one of the beds, curtain of hair covering their face as they still refuse to look directly at him. His heart squeezes seeing his little bug so defeated.

He walks over to them, steps purposefully heavy so they know he is getting closer. He places a hand on their knee as he crouches in front of them. He does not force them to meet his eyes. He simply takes their hands in his, kisses each knuckle before sliding the black rings off their fingers. Their glamour disappears immediately and Rain immediately finds their tail with his.

“Want to shower?”

“I just wanna go to bed.”

Rain nods. He will not press it. He will simply drag them into the hot water tomorrow morning and keep them there until they are ready to face the day. If Perpetua scorns them for being late to the bus then so be it.

He stands up, hissing under his breath as his knees crack. He digs through Phantom’s bag, finding the case their enchanted rings go into. He then grabs Dracula from his own bag. The book is old and well loved. The edges of the cover are worn. The pages have yellowed with a few having small tears at the bottom. There are some annotations dotted throughout the book, but none are in Rain’s handwriting. He still has yet to figure out who the previous owner of his favorite book is.

With it in hand, he crawls into bed. Phantom is already under the covers, resting back against the headboard. Rain smiles softly at them before opening his arms. He thinks they may deny him, shrink away from the touch the same way they did when they were new. But his smile only widens when they curl closer and bury their face in his chest.

The smell of old ink and paper makes his nose twitch as he cracks the book open. He cards his fingers through their hair when he begins reading, scratching over their scalp and gently detangling knots. It takes him back to those first few months. When they would be the only two ghouls awake, unable to sleep for their own reasons. When Phantom finally let Rain hold them as he read the very same book aloud.

As the words he knows by heart flow from his lips, his mind goes to somewhere else. To ways to bring the spark back into their eyes. He may need to download an entire library of their favorite gothic stories, just so he can read one every night. Just so they do not have to be alone with a storm of thoughts. He may need to blow his entire tour allowance on all their favorite snacks.

”Hey Rain?” Their choked up voice stops him mid paragraph.

“Yea Ant?”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” they sniff, “I just…I miss him so much.”

He feels his heart shatter as tears soak into his shirt. He plants a kiss right between their horns, lips brushing their forehead as he speaks, “I know. I do too.”

“He'll be back at the Ministry by tomorrow right?”

Rain nods and hums against the top of their head.

“Can we call him then?”

“Of course. First thing in the morning, I promise.”

They suck in a deep, shaky breath as they try to get their crying under control. Rain gives them all the time they need, running his hand not holding the book up and down their back. He keeps his own face buried in their hair, breathing in their scent, ozone and frozen apples. The sound of their sobs makes tears prick in the corner of his eyes, feelings he thought he had under control rising to the surface.

Their sobs turn to sniff and eventually they stop all together. After a long stretch of silence they finally speak again, voice hoarse, “Hey Rain?”

“Yea Ant?” He smiles slightly at the mirrored conversation.

“Keep reading?”

And he does. He reads until he feels them go limp and their breaths even out. He marks the page with a fish shaped bookmark and sets it on the nightstand, flicking off the lamp. He presses a gentle kiss to their head before pulling the blanket up and over their shoulders.

“I love you Ant. I promise it’ll be okay again. I’ll be there until it is.”

#the band ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghouls #the band ghost fic #golfball writes #phantom ghoul #rain ghoul #rain x phantom #mushy may 2025

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ririright · 10 hours ago

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hi dove 🫶🏼

I'm the anon who requested the hayden x young wife reader pregnancy headcanons

I keep rereading that post and I am absolutely in love with it !

I was hoping you could do a part two of that, as well as an angsty version of it��where hayden actually decided he doesn't want kids at his age, reader is understanding of that but still feels disappointed about sacrificing the chance at being a mother.

Shock and Panic

When you first tell Hayden you’re pregnant, his face goes pale, and he stammers, “Wait… are you sure?”

He doesn’t mean to sound doubtful, but the shock is so strong that his first instinct is denial.

He spends the next few hours pacing around the house, running his hands through his hair, muttering, “I just… I didn’t think—”

The Overwhelming Guilt

He knows you’re excited, and seeing the hopeful look in your eyes makes his heart ache.

But his own fear overpowers his joy, and he can’t pretend to be happy when he’s not.

He hates himself for making you feel disappointed, especially when he sees how carefully you bring up baby topics.

Overthinking Everything

Hayden is much older than you, and all he can think about is being an “old dad” who can’t keep up.

He starts comparing himself to when his daughter was little, thinking, “I barely survived the first time. How can I do it again?”

He’s terrified of letting you down, of being too tired, too busy, or too overwhelmed to be a good dad again.

Quiet Tension

For a while, there’s a quiet, heavy tension between you. He’s distant, lost in his own thoughts.

You try to bring up baby names, and he just nods with a weak smile.

At night, he turns over, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his fear but too ashamed to say it out loud.

His Daughter Notices

His 10-year-old daughter is the first to sense something’s wrong. “Dad, why are you and (y/n) so quiet lately?”

He tries to brush it off, but she’s sharp—“Is it because of the baby?”

It’s a wake-up call for him. He realizes his fear is affecting not just you but her too.

A Confession in the Dark

One night, you finally break down, “I thought you’d be happy. I thought… you’d want this with me.”

His chest tightens, and he finally admits, “I’m scared. I’m terrified. I’m too old. What if I can’t do it? What if I’m not a good dad to this baby?”

You tell him you’re scared too, but that you want this baby—your baby with him.

Reluctantly Going to Appointments

At first, Hayden’s hesitant about the doctor visits. He’ll drive you but stays quiet, watching from the corner.

He’s afraid of getting attached, but the first time he hears the heartbeat, his eyes well up with tears.

He won’t admit it, but he’s starting to feel something—something like hope.

Little Glimmers of Excitement

You catch him standing in the empty spare room, staring at it like he’s imagining something.

Sometimes, he’ll accidentally smile when you mention baby kicks, but he quickly hides it.

He keeps looking at his daughter, feeling guilty but also starting to see how much joy she brought to his life.

Small but Meaningful Changes

He starts texting you from work, “How are you feeling? Need anything?”

If you have a craving, he’ll quietly go out and get it without a word.

Sometimes, you wake up and find him with his hand resting gently on your stomach, even in his sleep.

The Moment He Breaks

One night, he’s watching you sleep, hand resting on your growing belly, and it just hits him.

He breaks down, whispering, “I’m scared, but I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t show it.”

He pulls you close, and you wake up to him softly apologizing, over and over.

Slowly Allowing Himself to Dream

He still has doubts, but he starts asking about baby names and looking up parenting tips.

He starts to think about how his daughter will be as a big sister, and the idea makes him smile.

He’ll sheepishly bring you a tiny baby onesie he saw at the store, mumbling, “I thought it was cute.”

Confessing to His Daughter

He has a quiet talk with his daughter, telling her she’s still his little girl and always will be.

She hugs him, grinning, “I get to be a big sister? That’s so cool!”

Her excitement helps ease his fears—she’s thrilled, so maybe it won’t be so bad.

The Protective Instinct Kicking In

When you’re further along, he’s constantly checking in. “Did you eat enough today? Are you comfortable?”

If you’re feeling sick, he’s immediately by your side, rubbing your back and whispering comfort.

If anyone makes you upset, he’s quick to defend you—“She doesn’t need stress right now, okay?”

Quiet Conversations with the Baby

When he thinks you’re asleep, he’ll gently talk to your belly. “Hey, little one. I… I’m sorry I was scared. I promise I’ll be here.”

His daughter catches him doing this one night and smiles, hugging him, “You’re gonna be a great dad, Dad.”

Finally Letting Go of His Fear

When he feels the baby kick for the first time, he freezes, eyes wide, then breaks into the biggest smile.

He kisses your stomach, whispering, “Hi, little one. I’m your dad.”

From that moment on, he’s still scared, but there’s love there too—a fierce, protective love.

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen angst #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen headcannons #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen fanfiction

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faceofpoe · 3 days ago

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On Wilmon (and Luthen and Cassian)

I'm a little scared to muse "what are we doing with Wilmon?" but fuck it, what are we doing with Wilmon?

His journey into s2 was always most intriguing to me of the ones on that ship in Rix Road because of the echoes of Cassian's -

-sparing a moment to be emotional about how he was *almost* arrested but Brasso, Brasso got him, Brasso saved him and -

So we've got teenage boy lashing out at his father's death and attacking a garrison - but Wilmon's been spared the horrors (I mean, or more likely execution, but) of what came next for Cassian. And we don't know anything about Sipo/Mimban really except that Mimban was enough to put it into Cassian's head that fighting is useless, that 'rebellion' is a joke.

Wilmon gets a chance to breathe and recover on Mina-Rau but it was always a matter of time, of course it was, and then he's in, properly in, sometime between arcs.

And we meet him with Saw. Luthen sent him to Saw. Not going to dig into the 'wow really thought he'd still be with Saw's outfit in arc 3' until arc 4 maybe sheds some light or not on his Saw time/connections (read: I am wondering if Wilmon will be instrumental in getting Tivik's message to Cassian? or if the message was meant for Wilmon? Or Luthen more generally? Idk I can't remember if it's clear that Tivik and Cassian actually know one another or not tbh). Saw's a scary dude, Saw shoots his own guy right in front of him, Saw does his weird-ass initiation rite or *something* with the damn rhydo.

Anyway Wilmon is back with Luthen by arc 3 and he's...

Everything Luthen wanted from Cassian?

(Luthen got Wilmon in the messy break up and this is so fantastically complicated I want to fic about it forever)

Luthen is vaguely "making things happen" and whatever those things Cassian is skeptical and Wilmon is committed.

"You act like Luthen's the enemy" / "Wouldn't that be easier" will be the subject of many hours musing these three in the week/weeks ahead I expect, anyway.

Wilmon has taken over the Ghorman... advising? role while Vel has broken up with Luthen and Cassian is... hiding. Sort of hiding. He's injured - he doesn't like that Wilmon has shared this with Luthen. Luthen wants to put him back to work and has apparently pulled Wilmon away from Ghorman to try and coax Cassian back into the circle.

(insert hilarity over 'hey here's this person it'd be very easy to kill her but we need this one (1) specific guy to pull that trigger' no one on site could possibly make it happen)

(this however does lend implication to things that Cassian perhaps got very good at under Luthen's employ)

(I have so many Thoughts about the breakdown between them in arc 2 and after the show is done I expect I will be waxing poetic about the whole playing with the negative space concept but anyway)

Wilmon and Cassian have *the most heart-wrenching scene* parting ways on Ghorman and -

Wilmon goes back, gets it done, makes it out, makes it home. Hurt, but home. And that's kind of where we leave it. He needs a doctor and Cassian takes him back to Yavin.

So where do we go from here?

We never get to see Luthen & Wilmon on screen together and this haunts me lol BUT. I daresay we use Wilmon to sort of show that Luthen has... learned something? From arc 2? We don't hear Kleya ask, and maybe she did, but that's Luthen's question upon meeting Cassian: "Wilmon?" and he looks a bit perturbed by Cassian's reply and then Kleya pops in and "hey guys there's an emergency let's focus" changes the topic.

[insert Senate drama]

Upon arriving at the safehouse and chugging some water, Cassian nods at the back and asks Kleya "Is he back there?" and Kleya nods and this felt like a really weird script crack where we just didn't see Cassian get news about Wilmon making it home but the more I turn this over I'm wondering if he meant "Is *Luthen* back there?" and if we're meant to infer Luthen's hand... somehow... in helping get them to safety.

[this might be reading way too much into my favorite problematic blorbo and I have zero concept of the passage of time between the Senate flight and the safehouse arrival but]

Anyway they have the whole 'they wanna rewrite the story' (lol) thing and Cassian's response is to challenge, "what does *Luthen* want?"

"He wants Wilmon with a doctor."

And we might read that a few ways. Mon has moved beyond Luthen's concern and how she goes from here isn't his problem.

Wilmon just really needs a doctor and Wilmon is valuable.

Wilmon is Cassian's people and he's already pushed Cassian away by being dismissive about the importance of those connections.

Or Luthen is... letting Wilmon go?

Genuinely I have no idea beyond that the ep twice draws attention to Luthen's concern for Wilmon's whereabouts/wellbeing amidst the "immediate problem." And he's talking about burning all his bridges and Cassian is very aware that the clock is ticking before Luthen is discovered.

And Wilmon has maybe sort of taken Cassian's place in some kinda way but it's Cassian who Luthen wants to extract Mon "I wasn't sure you'd come", Cassian as the guy "I know I can trust" Cassian who Luthen has his vague *destiny vibes* about.

If Rix Road was Wilmon's attacking the garrison with a stick (a really impressive stick), then Ghorman was Wilmon's Rix Road and he did the job, he went back for his person and saved who he could and made it away.

Anyway I figure arc 4 has three options:

first - zero/minimal Wilmon. He speed-ran Cassian's story from age 13-end of season 1 but without the prison trauma, he's now vaguely in the background of the Alliance somewhere probably, not part of the arc 4 story.

second - Wilmon recovers and goes back to Luthen 'til the bitter end, perhaps maintains some Saw ties in this capacity.

third - Wilmon tied in amongst the Yavin side but drawn into whatever endgame dramatics will undoubtedly bring Cassian back into Luthen and Kleya's orbit one last time.

I don't know I want any of these answers more or less than the others. I think I could be satisfied with option the first, if what we had is what we're going to get.

But I also still wonder if this final arc isn't going to sucker punch me with Wilmon in some way I haven't anticipated.

Anyway. Wilmon. Muhannad Bhaier. Damn.

#andor #andor spoilers #andor season 2 #andor season 2 spoilers #I love him so much you guys #I want to know everything about his post-arc 1 everything #Wilmon Paak #this became a novel #the three of them compel me greatly

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lancercreates · 23 hours ago

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THE PSYCHOLOGY IN F1 [T.W. 6]

Pairing: Toto Wolff x Psychologist Reader.

Summary: Y/n (a young psychologist, religion teacher, an inspiring person Toto thought he could find only in utopia) working in Mercedes AMG Petronas Formula 1 Team. What can possibly go wrong?

Warnings: none

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We're in Mercedes-AMG F1 Team common area, one week before the next Grand Prix.

It's been a little over a month since you joined the team. Your presence is already part of the daily landscape. Everyone respects you, consults you, and appreciates you. But there's something that's increasingly attracting attention: Toto Wolff. Since you arrived, his behavior toward you has visibly changed, and it doesn't go unnoticed.

You're is organizing a few short chat sessions with some engineers. Toto appears with a bottle of water and a small tray of cookies. ''I thought maybe you hadn't had anything. I don't want you to run out of energy. And… you like these cookies, right? The ones with chocolate chips.''

You raise an eyebrow with an incredulous smile. ''Toto… how do you know they're my favorites?''

Innocently, as if it were the most logical thing in the world, he says: ''You mentioned it once. It's important to me that everyone in the team is okay.''

You accept the cookies of course (the most exquisiste you've ever tasted), a little amused and a little bewildered. ''Thanks. They're delicious. But you're exaggerating a bit, aren't you?''

''Not at all. Taking care of yourself isn't exaggerating.''

Later, in the team's break room. Several engineers, some mechanics, and one of the pilots are present. You enter, and as soon as you cross the door, one of them looks at you with a mischievous smile.

''Hey, Y/n! Look, we brought coffee… although I'm sure the boss already left you one just the way you like it, right?''

''Or two. Or three. He stopped by today asking if anyone had seen you, you were very quiet this morning.''

''I saw the way he looked at you when you spoke to the briefing. I swear, if you asked him for a private jet, he'd take it out of his pocket!''

You put your hand to your forehead, holding back laughter. ''Stop bothering me! It's not that big a deal!''

''Of course it is! The boss is like a kid with a new toy. More like when a kid has an older friend and follows them everywhere.''

''Don't take it the wrong way, okay? He's adorable! We've never seen him like that. With anyone. Not even with Lewis! And you know, it was really hard for him to see his decade-long partner run off with an Italian stallion.''

Your state now: half-blushing, amused, with a smile that tries to be firm, and trying not to laugh. ''Toto is simply attentive. He has that serious but… protective style. Maybe it's more noticeable with me, I don't know.''

''Yeah, sure, of course! Protective... And did he ask you today if you slept well? If you need vitamins? If you want to change the atmosphere in the hospitality?''

Some time later, you walk through the paddock and run into Toto, who immediately approaches you concerned.

''Is everything okay? I saw you leaving the meeting quickly. Did something happen?''

''I'm fine, Toto, really! I just happened to be late for a meeting. But… you know you're getting a reputation?''

''Yeah really? What kind of reputation?''

''Let's just say… several people think you're a little "obsessed" with me. Like a kid when they cling to someone they admire.''

He looks at you for a few seconds, surprised, and then laughs softly, lowering his head slightly. ''Is that what you think?''

''Yes. And if I'm ever absent, the whole team will have to console you.''

''I don't know if call it obsession. But I do care about you a lot, Y/n. And I'm not going to hide it.''

You look at him for a few seconds, and although something in your heart moves, you don't want to over-interpret it. You just nod with a slight smile. ''Okay, then. Just… try not to bring me five coffees a day, okay?''

''I promise it won't be more than four.''

The day finishes with the sound of soft laughter in the paddock, as you continue on your way. Toto watches you for a moment longer, as if caring for you is as natural as breathing. The team already knows: the boss has changed since you arrived, and although everyone takes it with affection and humor, you begin to wonder if there's something more behind this tireless attention.

PART 7

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #fanfic #formula one imagine #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff #mercedes formula one #mercedes amg f1 #mercedes f1 #f1 fanfic #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x oc

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runforthehillsbestie · 1 day ago

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A Ghost In The Night

(This is my first attempt at writing Simon Riley!)

Hooking up, p in v

"Seriously, fuck off!" You snap to your date as you storm towards the doors of the bar.

Just a minute ago a girl came up out of nowhere and leaned in to speak to you over the music.

"Sorry, hun, but he's taken."

You had laughed at first but it quickly became clear from your date's silence that the girl wasn't joking. You're not sure what you're more angry about, the sheepish look on his face or the fact that she didn't seem to mind that you were on a date with her boyfriend, as though she didn't view you as competition. You'd be lying if you said it didn't hurt. Your stomach flips as you fight back tears.

Why the fuck do I keep doing this to myself? You wonder, veering sharply into the empty alley beside the bar because the last thing you want is for those two to see you hacking the contents of your stomach up.

Luckily the feeling of nausea passes. The music from inside thuds in your ears as you press your back against the cold wall with a sigh.

I should just go home. My vibrator works just fine. I can use that.

You fish around in your purse for a tissue to try and mop up your tears, unwilling to admit even to yourself that what you're really craving is the touch of another person. Why is it so hard to get laid?

"Bad day?"

The sound of another person's voice in the alley--not far from you at that--startles you and you swing around, automatically fishing your mace out of your purse.

"There's no need for that," the deep, gritty voice says. "I'm harmless."

You have to squint to make out the man standing in a shadowy corner. There's a faint glow from the cigarette in his hand but it's not enough to reveal anything.

"Are you following me?" You demand.

His tone is amused as he says "I was here first, love."

"Can you not call me that?" You snap, disturbed by the fact that his drawling British accent is doing something for you.

"Thought you could use it," he says.

"I don't need pity from a stranger, thank you very much," you huff.

He drops the cigarette on the ground, flattening it under his boot. "I don't have to be."

"What?" You frown.

"A stranger. We could change that right now."

He steps forward and your mouth falls open as he comes into the light. What the hell? He's huge. He wears a skull mask over his face, leaving nothing but his eyes visible, which is slightly terrifying but also attractive. You're no longer clutching your mace, instead you're just staring at him like a rabbit in headlights. You don't even make a move to protest when his calloused fingers touch your jaw.

His thumb skitters over your lip and then he does it again, pressing a little harder this time so your lipstick smudges against his finger. He lets out a slow exhale. Your eyes are the size of saucers at this point as you melt under his touch. Is this a bad idea? Should you trust this guy? You have no answer to that and it's killing you.

"Tell me no," he says heavily, his gaze dropping to your mouth.

You part your lips but nothing comes out. He walks you into the corner and your cheeks go hot as you take a step back and bump against the wall. His hands come up on either side of you, hemming you in.

"Um--" You clutch your purse, ducking your head. "Are we doing this... Here?"

"People hook up in all sorts of places." He tips your chin up to look you in the eyes. "Yes or no?"

His body warmth radiates against you as he presses close, leaning down to brush his covered nose against your neck. You shiver at the feeling of the slightly scratchy fabric against your skin.

"I don't even know your name," you murmur.

"Call me Ghost."

You laugh shortly. "What's with the mystery, stranger? And the mask?"

You reach up playfully but he catches your wrist so quickly that it makes you gasp. He softens his grip but doesn't let you go.

"Don't touch it. The mask stays on," he says, his gaze searching yours.

"Yeah, okay," you say.

He hesitates before he releases you like he's checking to make sure you won't make a grab for his mask. You don't. Instead, you crane your head up to look up at him, admiring the long blond eyelashes that frame his eyes. His big hands slide down your arms, feather-light against your skin.

"You haven't answered my question," he says.

"Yes. Uh, I'm in. I mean, I don't know what we're doing but... I like where this is going."

You can feel your whole body go up in flames of embarrassment. Why are you fumbling over the potential of hooking up? He doesn't tease you for it though. His hands cup your waist and pull you into him.

"No need to be shy," he says.

His hands slip lower and you're confused for a second before he picks you up like you weigh nothing, pressing your back firmly against the wall. You swallow your squeak of surprise, automatically hooking your legs around his hips. You feel the cool night air brush against your inner thighs as your dress slips up and your eyes widen.

"Oh, I'm not... I'm not wearing any underwear," you confess in a rush.

He pauses, his breath staggered against your hair. "Then I'm a lucky man."

You jump at the feeling of his warm fingers sinking into the flesh of your thigh and squeezing greedily. The rough pads of his fingers slip higher and your eyes flutter shut when he cups your pussy. Your clit gives a wild throb at the contact.

"Hmmm." It sounds like a sigh and a masculine groan mixed into one. "You're wet."

"A-a little," you whisper.

"Is that right?"

A finger slicks up your folds, just barely touching your clit. You struggle not to moan at how good it feels. It's exactly what you've been craving, minus the alley part, but even that gives the situation its own thrill. You're clutching onto a stranger while he feels how wet you are for him and it's so dirty, like a fantasy right out of your dreams. When he presses a finger inside you can't help the quiet moan that slips out of you.

"There we are," he rasps. "Let me hear you, sweetheart."

You're certain he can feel the way you clench down on his finger when he calls you that. He laughs softly and you look up at him. He's gazing at you, his heavy breathing muffled against the mask. You barely register yourself leaning forward to kiss him, mask be damned. The moisture of your mouth dampens the fabric and his face nudges against yours. He's kissing you back through the mask. You eventually have to break away for air, your lips tingling from the friction.

"Please," you gasp, clutching his wrist between your legs. "I want you inside me."

His eyes darken hungrily. "Condom?" He asks, and your belly swoops like you're going down in a rollercoaster.

"I'm on the pill," you reply.

You throw your arms around his neck, delighted to feel soft strands of hair peeking out from under the mask at the nape of his neck. You hear the sound of a zipper rolling down and his knuckles bump against your thighs as he fists himself and you both groan when the blunt head of his cock presses against your entrance. He slides his cock through your folds, soaking himself in your wetness.

"Take a deep breath for me," he instructs, and you can't help but giggle. "You're cocky."

"Am I?" He shoots back, driving his hips forward.

His cock notches against your entrance and begins to slide in, and oh, you find yourself needing to take that deep breath. You clench your teeth and try to relax as he slowly thrusts into you. This position means you don't have anywhere to escape to, so you settle for digging your fingers into his biceps.

"Fuck," you whimper.

"Alright, love?" There's a hint of wry amusement in his voice and you smack his chest in response.

"I can handle it," you scoff, but you're once again proven wrong when he pulls back and roughly shoves back in and you have to clap a hand over your mouth to muffle the wail that bursts out of you.

It's almost too much but the stretch is addicting. His face drops to your neck as he fucks into you, his strong arms and the wall against your back your only support. His cock hits the perfect spot from this angle, each pass over your sensitive walls causing you to hiss. You need to channel what you're feeling somehow and also keep from screaming your pleasure to the sky, so you settle for pressing your face to his shoulder. He smells faintly of laundry detergent and his own musky scent. Your open-mouthed moan turns into a bite, your teeth clamping down on the firm muscle under his shirt. The next thrust is brutal, a punishment for biting him.

"Fuckin' hell," he grumbles. "You're coming apart."

His hand cups your tit through your dress, squeezing harshly. You squeal against his shoulder, your hips bucking into him with wild abandon as your climax looms like a cresting wave. You hear a grunt above you as he slams into you one more time and stills, giving you the sexiest groan you've ever heard as he cums, flooding you. Your pussy clamps down, milking everything from him.

After a few moments he pulls out, letting you back down to the ground and steadying you when your shaky legs almost give out. He smooths your dress down and gives you a little pat on the butt. Your combined mess starts to leak out of you and you curse, grabbing your purse off the floor and searching for a tissue, turning away to surreptitiously clean up. What do you say to him now? You clear your throat.

"Thank you?" The words die in your throat as you turn and realize you're alone in the alley.

If not for the way your pussy is aching deliciously you would have thought you had imagined everything.

He's gone.

Hope I did okay. Reblogs are much appreciated <3

@runforthehillsbestie

#my writing #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost cod #cod smut

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vicedmuses · 2 days ago

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maybe it was true that brett prided himself on gaslighting people. mike was supposed to be his victim even thirty minutes ago. he had been chasing the man across the city for quite some time now. it was fun, thrilling, got things pulsing within him. then they entered the shack and everything changed. it was like something had sparked within the other man and it radiated out to him. the vampire had only seen that type of fuse be lit when he was dealing with witches. he didn't think too much of it though. what the stranger was didn't really matter. all he knew was that he was also turned on. he no longer wanted to kill the younger man. maybe he still wanted to drink from him, but not to the point where his body was going to go limp in his arms. only enough where he could get some semblance of nourishment and arousal all at the same time. from his experience, biting someone and keeping them alive could've been intimate. suddenly that's where his mind was going towards.

all the while they're flirting up a storm and getting to know each other, the werewolf thinks someone is close to dying. this has happened before. where his brother is hunting someone down and if he's close enough, he can almost feel the rush coming from him. often times he doesn't make it in time because the sadistic vampire is far too focused on feeding than anything else. he doesn't let the chase go on for too long. although this time around, it seemed like there was no real danger. if anything, he would've assumed his brother was just about to get his cock out. meanwhile, brett was having the time of his life. “i'm always the one that gets a reward. if i don't get off, no one around me is going to.” when he grinned this time, his fangs were exposed. both because he was aroused and because he wanted mike to see all parts of himself. “it's not something that can be so generalized. maybe i've just been watching you for a while. the others it's just something that i spot that makes me interested in them. with you? it's been everything.” by that point, he didn't think he needed to be shy about admitting the truth anymore. he shook his head when mike asked if he should lose interest. “love, i don't think that's something that can happen anymore.” his brows perked up when the man asked him that question. “maybe. let's just say this pretty boy is making my blood all rush to the same place.” another comment on how turned on he was.

the question did seem to make brett pause a bit. would he have helped mike? even if he didn't know him and they hadn't had this interaction yet? even though he hesitated, the answer seemed too clear to miss. “i'd help you, but not everyone is as hot as you are.” he winked at him, still laying that charm on as thick as possible. hearing the fact that mike wanted to be claimed by him, wanted to be his, was going all to his head. he wanted to do all of those things too. for some reason, he couldn't get the man off of his mind anymore. he didn't know how he was going to walk away from this. would it be so bad if they just hid out in the shack for the next couple of hours? “i'm going to breed you. i'm going to make you mine. no other man is going to be able to touch you after i'm done with you.” although all of that slowly slipped away from his hands when his brother walked in. cockblock. rhett continued to look in between the two of them, confusion only growing on his face. “so he was attacking you, but you also wanted to fuck him in a shack that isn't neither of yours?” the werewolf stepped closer. he noticed that mike's shirt was ripped. at the same time, the vampire looked a little insulted. “so he gets your name right away and i had to work for it?” rhett rolled his eyes to briefly look at his brother. “shut up. i don' think that you have any place to talk right now. i told you to stop hunting people down.” especially hot guys, but he wasn't going to say that out loud at that point. he did take his jacket off and threw it around mike's shoulders. his facial features looked soft, concerned, coming from a full place of empathy. “nice to meet you mike. i'm rhett. i know that my brother brett can be a little intoxicating sometimes, so please know that i'm not judging you for anything that happened today.” as his hands fell down to the other's arms, it could easily be sensed that he was warm. warmer than a regular human and much warmer than the vampire. “do you need someone to take you home? i kind of ran here so i don't have my car, but something tells me that you're not against to walking. i can also get us an uber. i'm a detective, so you're safe with me.” brett stepped forward and grabbed mike's other arm with his hand. almost like he was pulling him away from his brother, or at least trying. “or you can come with me.” the vampire smirked at him again. “you know i'm not going to hurt you. i don't bite, unless you ask me to. so you're sage with me.” what would the man choose now? two brothers. two creatures. all in direct contrast of each other.

Mike was acting like some love-struck teenager—giddy, flushed, and awkward in the worst possible way. It was ridiculous, considering he didn’t even know the guy’s name. He hadn’t exactly had time to ask, not when he was busy running for his life. And yet here they were: tangled up in each other, kissing like they meant it, grinding against one another in a heat that felt more like defiance than desire. If anyone saw them, they’d probably call it arguing without the hostility. Mike would’ve called it something closer to flirting. He caught himself smiling more than he should’ve, laughing at things that shouldn't be funny. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Maybe he’d finally snapped. Maybe this was his spiral—sweet and messy and completely fucked. This guy wasn’t innocent. Mike knew it from the way he moved, like he’d been ready to kill him a few hours ago without even blinking. And yeah, maybe Mike would’ve done the same. In any other world, they’d be beating each other bloody, not making out in the ruins of whatever the hell just happened.

The smugness, the cocky grin—anyone else and it would’ve been a turn-off. But with Brett? Somehow it worked. Somehow, Mike found himself loving it. Maybe even craving it. “Oh?” Mike teased, eyes narrowing playfully. “Is that more of a reward for me or for yourself?” His voice dipped into something low, something bordering on seductive. “I’ll take it either way.” There was a sharpness to the way Brett carried himself—like he always had the upper hand. And maybe he did. But Mike wasn’t going to let him have the last word so easily. “You didn’t say it, but you treated me.” His voice caught, not quite accusing, not quite grateful either. “Oh really? You watch them from the shadows or something? How do you know they’re smart—just from the way they look?” He didn’t even care about the answer. Not really. All that mattered was this—the heat between them, the way their words crackled like live wires. “Uh huh. So I should lose interest, then? Since you’re not trying to impress anyone?” Mike asked with a slow, knowing smirk. Truth was, he was already impressed. But Brett didn’t need more ego boosts. He was already drowning in his own charm. “Oh?” Mike breathed, feeling that familiar spark flare hot in his chest. “Is it ‘cause you’ve got a pretty boy under you? And now you wanna bruise me instead?” There was no hiding it anymore—he wanted Brett. Wanted his attention, his affection, all of it. If he could’ve kept Brett’s eyes on him forever, he would’ve. Because somehow, against all logic and reason, Mike couldn’t get enough.

“So... if I was in danger,” Mike asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper, “or needed medical help—and you were off shift—would you help me? Or would you just die?” It wasn’t really a question. Not after everything. Not after Brett had tried to kill him. Why the hell would he help? But something told Mike the answer wasn’t that. Maybe it was the way Brett looked at him—like he wasn’t just prey anymore. Like something had shifted. Maybe something had dropped—chemically, emotionally, cosmically—because there was no sane explanation for the way he was ready to lose his virginity in an abandoned shack to a man who’d wanted to kill him. And maybe still would again. None of it made sense. Their thoughts were hazy, instincts twisted. Every touch felt electric. Too much and not enough. And there was no one around to hear Mike’s moans echo off the rotting wood, raw and desperate as Brett’s hands moved over him like he knew him—like this wasn’t new. Like they’d done this a thousand times in some other life. “Please,” Mike gasped, words tumbling out unfiltered, soaked in need. “I want to be yours. Take me—claim me.” It was more than lust. It was some toxic mix of obsession and hunger and whatever the hell this was. Mike’s mind was spinning, so lost in Brett, he didn’t even hear the door creak open until a voice shattered the air. His heart jumped into his throat. A soft yelp escaped him, and he tried to move, but Brett had him pinned—strong and unyielding, like his body already knew Mike’s better than Mike did. His face burned crimson, and he turned away, unable to look at the newcomer. But Brett had already shifted off him, calm as ever, like this wasn’t the most humiliating moment of Mike’s life. Although he managed to catch Brett calling the other a brother. Brother? Mike scrambled to cover himself, hands shaking as he tried to form words that didn’t sound completely insane. “No—I mean—he was… no, not like that, it was consensual, okay? I mean, he was trying to kill me earlier, but we’re good now?” He winced. “Not that I—like—offered myself or anything. I’m not just—God, I don’t even know what happened...” He finally forced himself to look up. And froze. The guy standing in the doorway wasn’t just hot—he was unreal. Sharp jawline, piercing eyes, the same magnetic energy Brett had but… different. And worse? That same unshakable pull twisted in Mike’s gut. Like gravity, but personal. Intimate. Immediate. “Umm… hi,” he said, dazed, heart still racing. “I’m Mike.”

#kjrnksnht one is entertained and the other is concerned #rencissance #c: mike #brett.#rhett.

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