#did someone write a fic abt this idea before

[skeptical-saniwa]

“Well, hello there.”

This was for celebrating 3K on insta! :D

[leossmoonn]

Muse

masterlist

pairing - xavier thorpe x fem!reader

type - smut, 16+

note - i haven’t even seen the show yet but I’ve consumed so much xavier content I feel like I can write a smut fic abt him 😅😅

summary - you wake up to xavier drawing you, leading to something more

warnings / includes - language, oral (f receiving), soft dom!xavier, some body worship, insecurity mentions, thigh riding if you squint. lowk i have no idea if the reader is allowed to sleep in xavier’s room but for this fic she is 🤫🤫🤫

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“No, this isn’t right. Almost… no. Is her nose rounder or more pointy?”

You toss and turn as you hear your boyfriend’s mumbling.

“Oh, great, she moved,” you hear him sigh.

Your eyes flutter open, sleep weighing them down. You slowly reach your hands out from the warm blankets, rubbing your eyes before stretching. Your back pops and ankles crack as you extend your body over the bed, catching Xavier’s attention.

“Did I wake you?” he asks, worry evident in his voice.

“No, I was already waking up,” you shake your head. “But did I mess up your drawing?”

A light chuckle echos in his room. “No, you didn’t.”

“Oh, really? Because I heard you having some trouble finding out what shape my nose is. From how much you stare at my face, I would’ve assumed that you would know it by heart now,” you tease him, smiling as you stretch once more.

“You’re already so perfect in real life, I wanted to capture that in my drawing,” he states.

You let out a breathy laugh as you smile. You peek open your eyes to peer at him, seeing as his hair is pulled back into a half-pony tail. “You know the way to a girl’s heart, Xavier.”

“You know I try my best,” he quips. You close your eyes, turning onto your left side and cuddle the pillow. You hear Xavier move to the other side of the bed, sitting down beside your legs.

“Trying to get the right angle?” you hum. “Yep. Would you like to see what I have so far?” he asks.

“Sure,” you say, forcing your eyes to open. You sit up on your elbows, jaw becoming slack as you look at his drawing. “Xavi, this looks nothing like me.”

He furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“You must be drawing your other, more pretty girlfriend,” you snort, laying back down with a thump.

Xavier rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on. You know you’re gorgeous.”

“Not when I’ve just woken up,” you scoff.

He sets his drawing down on his desk, walking back to his bed. He sits down closer to your head, cupping your cheek. His thumb gently moves your face out from the pillows. You nuzzle into his warm touch, glancing up at him.

“You are so wrong, Y/n,” he says softly.

Your ears suddenly feel warm and you shy away, sinking into the bed. “You’re only saying that because I’m your girlfriend.”

“You have no idea how much I talked about you before we started dating,” he chuckles. “Enid and Ajax couldn’t stand being around me.”

You smile a little. “Oh, really?”

“Yep,” he grins. “Well, what did you tell them?” you inquire. “And make sure to tell me in full detail.”

“I’ll try. We wouldn’t want you to get a big head now, would we?” he teases.

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Get on with it.”

He smiles and leans in, his lips inches apart from yours. “For starters, I would say how pretty your eyes are and how cute your smile is. And I would compliment your makeup and how skillful and creative you are with it. How amusing it was to see that little smirk you get after correcting someone in class. I would say how nice your voice was to listen to, and how intimidating you seemed,” he explains.

“How am I intimidating?” you ask, a little smirk on your face. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he remarks.

His other hand sneaks underneath his blankets, finding your bare thigh. You suck in a breath, watching his face in anticipation.

“I also used to say how great you looked in a button down.” his hand skims up higher, the pads of his fingers ghosting over your panties. “I would comment on your skirts nicely frame your ass. How sexy you look in your stockings.”

He presses his first finger over your clothed clit. You let out a little gasp, trying to regain your composure.

“You would say that to Enid and Ajax?” you raise your brow.

He shrugs lightly. “I said those things to myself instead.”

You hum in reply. “Anything else?”

“Just how you are the most beautiful, intelligent, creative, strong person I know,” he grins. You can’t help but smile with him as you see the outer corners of his eyes crinkle.

“You are so sweet, Xavi. Thank you for saying all those nice things about me.”

“Would you be open to me showing them to you?” he asks, his voice now low. He stares deeply into your eyes, making your heart drop to your feet.

“How would you do that?” you ask, playing dumb.

He doesn’t answer. He closes the gap between you two, kissing you softly. You pull your arms out from under the covers, reaching for his shoulders and neck. Your right hand cups the nape of his neck, your left hand burying your fingers into his soft and tangled hair. You sit up without breaking the kiss, you press your chest up against his. His hands grip your waist, fingertips sliding under his shirt that you’re wearing.

One of your hands drop to his thigh, reaching for his pants. He pulls away quickly, grabbing your hand and holding it away from him.

“Don’t even think about it,” he says. You frown in confusion, “why?”

“Lay down,” he commands. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly feel obligated to do anything he says.

You lay back down, watching as Xavier slips under the covers. He towers over you, one hand resting by your head while the other is playing with the bottom of your shirt.

“I told you I was gonna show you, didn’t I?” he asks.

You smile widely, nodding excitedly. “You indeed did.”

“Don’t worry about me then. This morning is about you,” he says.

“Luckily me,” you hum.

He shakes his head. “Lucky me.” he dives down and kisses you again, his warm hand slithering up your shirt. The pads of his fingers skim over your hardened nipple. You sigh in reply, eyes fluttering close as his kisses reach your neck. He sucks a bruise right below your ear.

“Mm, I better not have to cover this up with makeup,” you say.

“No promises,” he whispers, irrupting butterflies in your tummy. He lifts your shift up and you lift your arms up, helping him slip it off. He takes a look at your almost-naked figure. Your red panties are still on, hugging your hips perfectly. He sucks in a breath and smiles, something he does every time he sees a part of you, or all of you. He never fails to do it, and it never fails to make you feel special.

“Lucky me,” he mumbles to himself, taking in your beauty.

“Xavier,” you whine. Although you love the attention, you’re a little too horny than you’d care to admit. You need him.

“What, pretty girl?” he asks, his eyes flipping to yours. “Don’t just sit there. Do something,” you answer.

He chuckles, “you are so needy in the morning, you know that?”

You shrug, “you’re fault.” “Oh, is that so?” he cocks his right brow.

You grab his hand that’s on your boob, bringing it down to your panties so he can feel the small wet patch. His dick strains against his pajama pants.

“See? You’re fault,” you say. “I feel so bad,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Guess I should do something about it.”

You roll your eyes as he keeps playing games. If he didn’t love seeing you struggle and beg, he would already have his head between your thighs. But seeing you whine and huff is equally as rewarding than making you come.

“Please, Xavier. We don’t have long until we have to go to class,” you beg, pulling at his shirt.

“Well, since you said please,” he hums. He brings his head down to your boobs, putting his mouth on one as his hand encompasses the other. You sigh lightly, resting your hands on his shoulders. His tongue flicks your nipple, rolling the other between his thumb and third finger.

Need grows in your tummy. You buck your hips up, meeting his thigh that’s between your legs. Your voice shakes as moan, lifting your hips up again. Your clit rubs against his thigh, almost giving you the satisfaction you crave.

“So needy,” Xavier mumbles against your skin.

You reply by grabbing at his shirt, your fingers hooking around the waistband of his pants. “Want you, Xavier. Need you,” you breathe out.

You watch as his cheeks become rosy. You smile to yourself, your hands slithering under his shirt and running over his chest.

He begins to kiss down your chest, not being able to take it anymore. If there’s one thing he wants most in this moment, it would be to make you shake and scream him name.

“You are so perfect,” he hums against your skin. He places passionate but feverish kisses across your body, hands grabbing at your thighs and ass. You look down at him, not being able to contain a smile as he covers your whole body with his love. He kisses your hip, sucking softly on the skin near your pussy. He’s so close, you can almost feel his tongue on your clit.

You push your hips up to his face, his nose bumping into your thigh.

“Patience, princess,” he mumbles, his hot breath fanning over your skin. Your underwear dampens and he chuckled as the wet spot grows darker. He hooks his fingers onto your underwear, pulling them off painfully slow. It feels like a million years as you watch him drag them down to your feet. He discards them onto the floor, settling himself between your thighs.

He starts to nibble on the inner corner of your legs. You huff impatiently, tangling your fingers in his hair and trying to move him to where you want him. But he’s stronger than you. One of his hands takes yours, pinning it to the bed. Wet kisses line your legs. He sucks down on one of the most sensitive parts of your inner thighs, making you jolt.

“Please, Xavier. Please,” you gasp. “Please what, pretty?” he asks, his eyes meeting yours.

You groan internally. He looks so sexy between your thighs. Those big, innocent green eyes staring up at you. His pupils are blown and you can see your own reflection.

“If you don’t tell me what you want, I can’t give it to you,” he hums.

“Eat me out, please,” you moan pathetically. You feel his cheekbones raise against your skin as he smiles.

You watch as his mouth attaches to your clit. Your head lulls back in relief and pleasure. You feel his tongue flick your clit, rubbing circles against the throbbing bud. He brings his mouth down to your slit, slipping his tongue into your hole. He swirls his tongue, shaking his head from side to side.

His tongue lips a stripe up your pussy and lands back onto your clit. He sucks softly but firmly, taking the hand that isn’t holding yours and slowly inserting two fingers into your pussy. Your lips gush liquids, making a little puddle on his bedsheets. He begins to move his fingers inside of you, his tongue lapping around your clit.

“Fuu-uck, Xavier. Just like that, yeah, ju-just like that,” you praise, your hand gripping his hair. His pony tail falls out from your fingers and moving his head. His hair falls onto your skin, tickling you slightly.

You let out a breathy giggle. It gets swallowed up by a moan as he adds another finger. You spread your thighs, your muscles clenching his fingers. Your moans get louder, egging Xavier on. His lips suck on your skin as his tongue licks up and down your clit. His fingers move inside of you faster, more of your juices spilling out around his fingers. The only sounds in the room are your moans, your pussy, and his panting.

“Xavier, baby. I-I’m close,” you stammer. Your thighs enclose around his face. You begin to ride his tongue, your nails digging into the back of his neck. He lets go of your hand that he’s holding, gripping onto your thigh. He holds your leg close to his cheek, wanting - no needing - to be engulfed by your scent and taste. His fingers dig into your skin as his hand that’s fingering you begins to move faster.

“Ah, ah, ah!” you pant, your chest puffing up and down. Your tummy tightens and you feel like your bladders about to let lose. Your body comes to a stop, all the muscles in your body tightening. You come so hard, the hand that’s on his bed almost rips the sheets off.

He watches your face as you unravel, feeling his own underwear become wet with pre-cum. You’re so beautiful. The way your head is titled back, your mouth wide open. He loves the way your eyes are screwed shut in pleasure. He can’t help but smile, not being able to stop admiring you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you ramble. He slows his movements, stopping his fingers but keeping his tongue moving.

“Ohmygod, fuck. Xavier, please,” you begin to pull away from him, the stimulation almost painful.

He stops, sitting up on his knees. He sucks his fingers dry, running his other hand through his hair. He looks down at the puddle you made, a prideful smirk taking over his features.

“Someone was really wet,” he says. “Your fault,” you say.

“I guess it was,” he chuckles. He dives his head back down, kissing your calves all the way up to your face. You bask in his love, your body tingling in each place he kisses. He holds your sides gently, his hands snaking to the small of your back. He kisses you sweetly. You can taste yourself, your tongue running across his bottom lip to capture the tanginess.

“That feel good, gorgeous?” he asks against your lips. “So good,” you breathe out.

“I think we should start every morning off like that, yeah?” he suggests

“I’ll be exhausted every day, then,” you chuckle. He shrugs, one of his hands moving to the underside of your boob. “As long as you’re exhausted from me.”

“Oh, shut up,” you snort, rolling your eyes and pushing him away lightly.

“You would love that, too,” he smirks.

You shake your head with a big smile on your face. “You wish.”

————

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@murdockcastleslut

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Ive been imagining this and ik its weird BUT ot8 skz being perv and so obsessed to fem 9th member.. Like they get super jealous and the fem readed being a people pleaser like she cant say no to her friends and cant stand seeing them sad so when the members started to became sexually touchy w her they used that against her and be like "dont u want to see us happy? We've been tired and we just want to relieve some stress.. I thought u can help us.. I guess not" and they pretend to be sad abt it and the reader just felt guilty for not helping her friends so she lets them touch her which led to smut KDNDJFKDJ its weird but idk i die for these kinds of fics

Hands on me?

Warning: Angst, sexual activity, manipulation?

Pairing: polyOT8 x reader.

Summary: Don’t you wanna see us happy baby? They said as they slowly peeled her clothes off.

AUTHORS NOTE: this has been in my requests for a while and I write this when I first started off SO it’s not good at all BUT I’m going to write another one using this same request cause I have another idea AND this was in my drafts for a while so I’m dropping it to clear it.

I hope whoever requested this, enjoys it 🥰

**

"Baby?!" She heard someone call for her from the living room. 

"I'm in here!" She replied. Her hair was up in a pony tail and she was currently wearing shorts and a croptop with no bra on making her look yummy.

She heard a bunch of voices start piling up in the living room meaning that the boys were back home.

A small smile creeped up on her face as she continued to wash up the dishes she had used to cook dinner. She made a big dinner because at the end of the day she was feeding 8 of her boyfriends who were also MEN. 

"Hey love," Han walked into the kitchen. His hair was in a hat and he had his normal hoodie and cargo pants on. "Are you feelings better?" He asked while taking a few steps towards her until he towering her. His breathing was heavy probably from the flight of stairs.

"Mmm, yeah. Just been a long day that's all." She sighed and looked up at him. He had a pout on his face making her coo at how adorable the boy was.

"I missed you," he said in between kisses. 

"Missed you too momo," he rested his head on her shoulder she continued to finish the dishes.Han was always clingy, not more than Felix but it was more than the other boys, that was for sure.

As she finished up she felt His hands slowly wondering around her body then slowly landing on her ass. oh, makes sense. He was horny.

She did love every interaction with her boys, she really did but today she wasn't in the mood at all. She was tired and she had a horrible headache from work. having sex was not on her to-do list but a nap was.

"Do you want me to take care of you?" He whispered in her ear causing shivers to run down her spine. She was sad because she was going to turn him down and she knew how stressed all the boys were, he just wanted have fun.

"Maybe not right now momo, I'm not in the mood," She told him while finishing the last of the dishes and drying her hands. He pouts and lets out a small whimper.

"Have you eaten yet?" She asked him changing the subject.

"Not yet no," he frowned.

"Okay then sit, let me call the other guys to come eat too," She encourage him, "and don't forget to put your dirty clothes in the laundry basket," She tiptoed and gave him a quick kiss before going to the living room to find only Changbin sat while scrolling through his phone.

He was wearing all black and he had his glasses on. His hair was fluffy and curly meaning today he was in the studio all day.

"Binnie?" She walked and sat by him, "what are you doing?"

"Hey baby," he kisses her temple and then her lips, "I was just lacing up my shoes, what about you? How was your day?"

"I'm tired that's all," she pouted, "and my period is coming soon so I'm breaking out!" she exclaimed and crossed her arms causing him to chuckle.

"I mean atleast you look nice," he dropped his shoe and pulled her close to his body, "you look beautiful, pretty, gorgeous, amazing-"

"Okay, okay I get the point," she roll my eyes playfully.

"Hey? Am I not allowed to praise my beautiful girlfriend?" He playfully frowns.

"You are I geuss," she giggled and he couldnt help but pull her onto his lap.

"Then let me praise you huh?" He kisses her cheek and slowly starts moving down her neck. A small moan leaves her mouth.

"B-Binnie, I'm not in the mood, please," she told him.

"Why not? You're always in the mood," he looks confused.

"Not today, just come have lunch yeah?" she give him a peck on the lips and got off him so he could stand up.

"Fine," he huffs. He makes his way to the dining area as she depart6ed and headed to Felix's room

"Felix?" she called while knocking on his door.

"It's open!"

"Hey sunshine, dinner is ready-"

"Hey! no kisses? No hugs?" He frowned and turned around from his desk.

"Oh-" she giggled when she realized and then walked over to him, "Hey lix," she repeated and  gave him a kiss as he automatically pulled her on his lap.

"How's my baby doing?" He asked as his hands wrapped around her waist and he cuddled her body.

"Mm just tired," she sighed.

"Oh my poor baby, should we watch a movie later?" He was craving her. he wanted to spend more time with her because he felt like he had spent so much time with the boys that he was neglecting her.

"Yeah that would be nice but first go get lunch," she forced herself out of his grip but he let out a soft whine due to the lack of touch and well...the bulge that was now very visible through his pants.

"Look what you've done to me," he whined again causing her to laugh at his distraught state.

"Oh oh, you better fix that before you go down,"

"Help me please!" He frowned.

"I'm not in the mood Felix, please."

"Come on pleaseee, it's been a long day. Don't you want to see me happy?"

His eyes were shiny and hungry, it was obvious.

"Fine after dinner," she lied to him so he could get up and he actually believed it.

"Okay okay, I'm running there now!"

He got up from his sit and rushed out the room.

She followed behind him and checked the dining room to see everyone now sitting down including Chan, I.N, Seungmin and leeknow.

She went around to give them quick kisses before returning to her room and changed into just a  huge shirt (that was probably for one of the boys) and underwear.

She turned off all her room lights and entered bed now being able to have a peaceful sleep. A nice, nice qui-

She felt the bed dip and hands wrap around her body. Her eyes open quickly and she saw familiar hands. Chan.

"Channie?"

"Hey babe, I wanted to cuddles," he pouted.

"Fine but no disturbing my sleep," she scolded him and turned so it was easier for him to wrap his arms around her waist.

Her eyes slowly closed once again and she finally thought she was to get some sleep until the door swung wide open and closed quickly, two more people walking in and making themselves comfortable in her bed. Han and I.N. At this point she was so used to it that she just let them stay as they both argued on who was sleeping where.

"Guys if you're going to be in here, you have to be quiet and sleep," She told all of them off. Even if she was getting a little frustrated she scooted up a little so they could all enter the bed.

Not even a few minutes later all the boys were now in her room on her bed piling onto one another under her fluffy blankets. She knew exactly what they wanted when she felt one of their hands massaging her leg.

She let out a sigh, "Such horny dogs!" she groaned.

"Common baby, it's been a long day. Don't you care about us?" Hyunjin teased her in a manipulative manner.

"Just a little fun. Come on please," Han rubbed her leg once more back and forth causing shivered to run down her spine.

"You look good too," Felix complimented her while tugging at her bra strap, "really good." They were basically already peeling her clothes off with their cold ass hands.

She let out a sigh and finally gave in, "F-fine I geuss so," her eyes wonder to Chan who gives her an assuring nod.

//please idk how to write a smut but just imagine the nastiest thing ever happens//

When they were done and the boys were satisfied as Y/n sat on the bed. Her heart was racing from all the action but she was in her own space. Spaced out.

The constant thoughts of the boys using her for their sexual desires made her enter a depressive episode. Yes she enjoyed the sex and the attention but so many emotions were running through her tiny body that she couldn't handle it anymore.

She felt used like a sex toy and the tears in her eyes slowly started to build as she started to breath rapidly. The air in the room getting suddenly thick. Seungmin was in the bathroom running her bath for her after care. The sound of the water falling was the only sort of noise she could hear.

She held her knees against her chest as she tried to calm down. Han's hand wrapped around her waist. As he kissed her temple. "you did so good for us, you know that right babygirl?" he praised but she didnt even notice him in the first place. Her eyes were hazy and completely black and when Han noticed, he gave chan a look. 

"Hey, are you with us?" Chan asked immediately as he pulled up his sweatpants. "Y/n?"

No response.

She was staring at the wall right in-front of her. She felt unloved. She felt tired. She was in pain.

The boys (some of them were still dressing up) all turned to look at her. Her body was still bare and the bruises on her arms were visible.

"Is she going into a trance?" I.N asked panicked. "Chan do something, please,"

"Hey Y/n? Babygirl? It me. Can you hear me?" He walked over to her and grabbed her tiny hands.

"C-channie?" She chocked as She looked up at him. The tears slowly starting to fall.

"Yes my love, it's me. Can you tell me where you are?"

"I'm alone, I'm all alone," she sobbed. "Why am I like this? Why am I so disgusting?" She cried.

"What do you mean Y/n?" He asked shocked.

"I-I want Binnie, I want Binnie now," she said reaching out for him. Changbin did not hesitate. He was right by her side pulling her onto his lap. The rest of the boys understanding what was going on and quickly taking action.

"I'm here princesses, tell me what's wrong," he had no shirt on and the skin to skin was slowly giving her comfort as his body heat was radiating warmth.

"I-do you love me?" She asked. The panic in her voice was clear. She was soon going to get a panic attack. it was building up.

"Ofcourse I love you babydoll, why would you think otherwise?" He questioned while kissing her forehead.

"i- i dont know, please dont be mad at me," She sobbed in his chest. The view was heartbreaking and the boys knew that if they didnt find a way to cheer her up soon it would end up into a full blown panic attack.

"I'm going to make some brownies for her," Felix said because he knew this was the only way he could comfort her on his part. He quickly leaves the room after hesitating for a bit not wanting to leave her.

"I- are you guys using me? For sex?" She cried harder. Her hands held Changbins chest as She struggled to breathe. Their faces were in absolute shock. was this what they made her think? was this all she thought she was to them? 

"Ofcourse not," leeknow knelt down infront of her. He slowly rubbed her thigh. "Jagi, you need to breathe. Can you do that for me?" He asked her. Her body was shaking still. she tried to gasp for air but failed. 

"Listen to me beuatiful, you need to breathe like me....see," he took a deep breathe to demonstrate to her but it was no use. 

"i- i cant breathe," she gasped and let go of changbin to grab her neck. it felt like it was closing up. Her vision was blurry now and the lack of oxygen was getting to her. 

"C-chan?" she gasped as she slowly she started to pass out. Her body giving up on her due to the many emotions.

"come on baby, stay with me," she heard in the distance.

"Guys! call 119,"

***

This is just a fic no one come for me 😔

[gluion]

satin ➵ park sungho

the pink ribbons that you and your daughter used to dress up sungho now used on you.

general genre/warnings ➵ smut, fluff!, soft but teasing dom!sungho, slight shibari with ribbons, pet names (baby, teasing use of daddy), foreplay, fingering, nipple play, impregnation, creampie (duh), aftercare, ends with the start of a second round

word count➵ 4.1k words

a/n➵ i wrote this the night before my flight and also during the two planes rides back. it was so serious it was killing me. this was originally a jacob fic but anon asked for a sungho ver!! so here you go! not my proudest work ofc becoz i think ive learned more abt writing smut so tune in for that!

The early hours of the day are ones you used to dread. The sun would barely be out, the idea of sitting through countless hours of lectures, the contemplation of your ongoing list of work, work, work, that needs to be done once you return from a tiresome day.

But now, it’s different; sunlight refracts through window panes, sounds of birds bounce off the walls, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the air. The early hours of the day are ones you used to dread, but waking up has gotten easier—maybe because you have someone to wake up and go back home to.

“Daddy, one more!”

“Sweetheart, we’ll run out of ribbons for your hair! Don't you wanna show your friends your pretty, pink ribbons?”

Your eyes peel open to the sight of home—the loves of your life seated by the vanity, one helping the other get ready for school.

Well, sort of.

Your little devil continues to bubble as her nimble hands gather more satin strands while your husband, Sungho, continues to brush her hair.

The white sheets you snuggle your nose into still smell of Sungho: fresh laundry and baby powder.

“But daddy! Look at you.” Her finger points at the mirror, making his gaze land on the reflection. “You’re beautiful,” she coos, pronouncing the first half of the word like a name.

He chuckles at her compliment. “Thank you, sweetie. You’ve got a good eye for fashion.”

Sungho’s adorned with pink, satin ribbons. Every part of him that you can name probably has a ribbon tied on it; some were loose, almost as if they would fall if he were to move, but some were tight, too tight, for your liking. His skin spills from bands of satin and his muscles show off more when they’re restrained.

Maybe you needed to get out of bed.

As you sit up, the sheets rustle from the movement, causing your husband and daughter to look back at you.

Sungho’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. “Oh no, did we wake you up? I’m sorry.”

“Sorry!” Your daughter’s apology quickly follows his.

You shake your head, a smile resting on your lips as you get out of bed. As you walk towards them, your eyes catch sight of your freshly woken up state; the contrast between you and your husband and daughter has you giggling.

“God, I have a bird’s nest.”

“No! You have beautiful hair made for,” your daughter pulls out another blush strand, “ribbons!”

A pair of lips meet your cheek. “She’s right,” your husband mumbles into your skin. “You’re beautiful.”

As he parts away, you meet his gaze. He shoots you a lazy smile, one that reminds you of the times you wake up beside him, and your cheeks are dusted with rose-colored hues.

Warmth continues to spread throughout the room—not from the sun but from them.

You roll your eyes before you look at your daughter, your hand reaching out towards her. She hands you the torn-up satin and you smile. “Thank you.”

You look at the man beside you, still tied up in ribbons. Your free hand trails over where they rest—hair, forearms, waist to name a few.

(Though, you let your fingers play with the one around his waistline.)

“Where should I put this one, honey?”

Your daughter hums for a moment. Sungho shakes his head, not in disbelief that you’re playing into your daughter's shenanigans but more so that you're going to make her late for school. And it’ll be okay, you tell yourself, because he’s the one in charge of dropping her off today.

“What about the neck? Like a necklace!”

Your eyebrows shoot up at her suggestion, a playful smile now on your lips. “A good choice! I'm sure daddy will love it.” The pet name rolls off your tongue so well that it has a grunt leave Sungho. The annoyed expression flashes through his features like a blink, but he tries to cover it up with an innocent smile.

“C’mon, you'll be late if we keep doing this. Let me finish fixing your hair and then we can go to school.” He tries to take control of the situation but you won’t let him—not this time, at least.

“Nu–uh,” you disagree, moving so that you can stand right behind him. “You can do that while I put this necklace on you,” the satin piece meets his neck before you lean in to whisper into his ear, “right?”

The distance between you two—the heat of your chest against his back, your lips grazing against his ear—is enough for Sungho’s tongue to turn into cotton. It didn’t help that you were doing all of this right now, right when your daughter is here getting ready while he’s pressed for time, but he knows that it won't do any good to deny the request if you two, so he nods.

Your hands guide the ribbon to wrap around his neck, the ends meeting past his nape which gives you enough to tie it into a bow. Your fingers busy themselves trying to form a beautiful knot while Sungho focuses on brushing your daughter’s hair.

And when you tug on the satin, making it wrap tighter around his neck—pulling into his skin—he stills for a moment.

“Daddy?” Your daughter looks up.

“What’s wrong?” The question leaves your mouth, the playful tone that clings onto your words fails to make sense to her but has Sungho clenching his teeth.

“Nothing, sorry,” he quickly says with a smile to cover up his behavior. “Just got distracted.”

She’s oblivious to whatever is occurring between you two; you make the most out of the situation.

Thanks to the distance, it’s easy to hear his exhales—his sounds. His shoulders move along with them. Heavy. Deep. Desperate.

Your fingers brush against his skin, and it blooms in rose tints. When your eyes catch sight of him swallowing down nothing—everything—you can’t help but let mischief take over.

You finish tying the satin into a perfect bow. The expanse of his skin covered in rose-like hues, dolled-up just for you, is enough for warmth to spread all throughout your body.

You don’t get to see Sungho like this: all adorned with pink ribbons, restrained without being restrained to an object. It’s humorous; you’ve switched positions just this once thanks to your daughter’s shenanigans.

Your lips hover over where the bow rests, your breath grazing his skin, and it has his hair standing. Just one kiss—one bite—to complete the present, and then—

“And done!”

He jolts away while dragging your daughter along. Your gaze now lands back to your reflection, a pout now resting on your lips.

When you look at the two, a satisfied smile rests on your daughter's mouth while Sungho sports a relieved expression. “Go say bye now. We’ll be late.”

Due to your husband’s rushed words, your daughter quickly pecks your cheek, her teeth bumping against your skin. “Bye bye! I’ll see you later!” You smile at her before she rushes out of the room.

When your gaze leaves the door, it lands on Sungho who only looks at you with eyes filled with irritation, frustration, dominance. “Anyway, I’ll—”

His hands grip your waist, pulling you close to him and noses bumping against each other. His breath grazes your lips while you hold yours in.

“What was that?” The question is asked with such sweetness but you know he means the opposite.

“W—what do you mean?”

He groans into your ear. “Don’t play games with me, baby.”

There’s the Sungho you know.

Satisfaction paints his features; a smirk with eyes that flicker down occasionally to your lips. And when you feel his grip tighten around your waist, air is knocked out of your lungs. He leans forward, as if distance needs to be closed, but his lips never touch yours. “Baby, baby, baby,” he whispers with such care, and yet…

“You know what you did. Just say it.”

You know better. He’s giving you a chance to apologize—to repent—for what you did, but instead of settling for that, you lean forward, lips interlocking with his. His hand shimmies its way under your shirt, a thumb drawing circles on your hip bone, and warmth blossoms further.

You part away and lean your forehead against his. As your fingers dart towards the ribbon wrapped around his neck, fiddling with the ends of it, it takes every ounce of resolve to not tug on it. 

“Well, you need to bring her to school,” you whisper words he doesn’t want to hear.

All he wants is an apology—an explanation—for your behavior this morning, but you don’t give in, so he rolls his eyes, a chuckle leaving him before he lets go of your waist. “I’ll see you later.”

You let your hand fall back to your side and shoot him a smile. “I look forward to it.”

Before you know it, he makes his way towards the door, still wrapped in pink satin. The thought of Sungho showing up in front of your daughter’s school adorned in bows has you giggling.

“I can hear you laughing!”

You roll your eyes. “Just go!”

You wonder what he’ll bring you after he’s done with the task at hand.

If you were expecting anything good, then you were absolutely wrong.

(Well, that’s a lie. You were hoping for something, but you weren’t expecting this.)

Whatever present you were looking forward to—food from your favorite cafe that’s only a 2-minute drive from your daughter’s school or an opportunity for you to finally do whatever you want unto Sungho—couldn’t prepare you for what’s happening now.

“You just couldn’t behave.” A pair of hands roam over your torso as teeth tug on the expanse of your neck, satin grazing your skin. You hold back your sounds, eyes fluttering close, until he digs in harder, wetter.

A mewl escapes you without a second thought. His lips leave your neck and his hands focus on tugging your oversized shirt off, leaving you only in a pair of night undies.

You’re greeted once more by the sight of Sungho wrapped in satin. Your gaze trails to where the ribbons rest, some threatening to fall off of him while others still making sure his skin—his muscles—spill out.

(And it didn’t help that the white t-shirt he wears clings to his torso, probably from its fitting or thanks to the ribbons.)

His hands rest on the space around you as his legs cage you down, restricting you from any movement like you did with him.

You’re lightheaded, maybe from lip locking, the position you’re in, or even from the sight of your husband. And with your heavy breaths, a smug grin takes over Sungho’s face. His hand tugs on the loose satin around his waist, allowing it to fall on your stomach.

“What if we play dress up?” He hums as he lets his lips trail from your jaw, to your shoulder, all the way to space between your tits. He looks up at you, and says, “Like how you did with me this morning.”

A grunt leaves you.

He grabs onto the ribbon. “Don’t you think it’s only fair that I have my time with you? My fun with you?”

When you shake your head, Sungho chuckles. “Sungho, c’mon—”

“Nu–uh,” he retaliates like how you did then. “Don’t try to weasel your way out of your punishment.”

He sits and chucks his head up, signaling you to lift your torso up. You follow his orders, and his hands dart around so that the strand wraps around your upper chest. 

With his fingers busy tying a bow, your hand darts towards the ribbon wrapped around his forearm. Your fingertips fiddle with satin and his warm skin, and you both relish in your final moments of freedom.

“There we go.” Your eyes dart down to your chest, spotting a perfectly tied pink bow resting above your tits. And when his nails dig into your waist, a mewl escapes you as you arch your back.

Sungho loves it all; the ribbon that was once tied around his waist now tied right above your tits, the sounds that leave you from the different sensations of satin and his hands brushing your skin, and your hazy eyes that meet his wide ones.

He litters you with kisses, from your cheeks, neck, and chest. “You’re so pretty for me,” he mumbles in between. Once his lips hover over yours, noses grazing against each other, he whispers, “I just want to devour you.”

You catch his lips, arms wrapping around his neck as you pull him close. He moves one knee in between your legs, letting you grind your clothed slit against his thigh, as his hands find themselves on your tits. The warmth of his fingertips flicking against your nipples has them pebbling and you moan his ministrations.

He parts away. As you attempt to control your breathing, you watch him reach for the ribbon that rests on his shoulder and tug it undone. Its length is longer in comparison to the one that rests on your chest; perhaps your daughter may have overestimated how much she needed to tie around Sungho’s shoulder.

And before you know it, he grabs hold of your wrists and lets the strand circle around them. “Too tight?” He asks once he ties a knot around them.

You shake your head. “Just right.”

He smiles at you. “Good. Now,” his hands find their way on the band of your underwear, “let me taste you.”

He tugs it down, exposing you to him. The contrast between you two—nude and fully clothed—makes your head spin.

“Sungho, please.”

He hums. “‘Please’ what, darling?”

“Remove your clothes.”

“Making demands?” He clicks his tongue. “I’ll see about that.” He spends his time undoing the ribbon that’s wrapped around his arm. “Plus, I enjoy you like this, just physically unable to fulfill your desires.”

A groan rips out of your throat.

You hate Sungho.

His hands brush against your upper thigh, tying another ribbon around you. Once he finishes, his hand lingers, teasing you with the short distance between him and your slit. You’re about to curse at him, yell out profanities, until you watch his face get closer to your pussy.

He breathes you in and a groan rips out. “God, you smell delicious.”

Before you know it, his tongue darts towards your slit, drinking up your juices. A moan leaves you, your back arching at how he eats you out. And when his nose nudges against your clit, your mewls get louder, uncontrollable.

Your head is spinning from how Sungho plays with your five senses; satin strands wrapped around you, his tongue touching you in places you longed for him to graze against, the squelching noise that comes from him eating you out has your head spinning. The lack of power—control—turns you on even more.

As you attempt to look down, you’re greeted by his eyes on you, and the eye contact knocks the air out of your lungs. When his hand reaches to the bow that rests on your thigh, fingers playing with pink satin, you throw your head back.

Your lower half finds itself moving on its own, lifting itself from the mattress as it attempts to chase the pleasure, but Sungho rests his forearm on your stomach, holding you down, and continues to eat you out to his liking. Still, you try to move under the restraints; it’s reflexive, out of control. 

His mouth leaves your slit, a whine leaving you. “Baby, if you keep that up, you won’t get what you want in the end.”

You try to control your breathing, bringing your satin-tied wrists close to your face.

He finally strips off his shirt. You’re lightheaded when you look at him, top naked with one singular satin ribbon left—the one you tied around his neck.

He reaches for the button of his pants. “You’ve been such a treat for me, let me reward you.” His pants and underwear are down, revealing his hardened length that leaks pre-cum.

He moves your restrained wrists away and reaches for your lips with his; the taste of you still lingers on him. As he sucks on your bottom lip, a whine leaves you.

He moves away so that you can catch your breath—or so you thought.

Before you can control your heartbeat, you feel a finger prod its way into your pussy, having you clench over the digit. Your eyes roll back as you moan, and he curls his finger, hitting your walls.

“God, look at you. Such a moaning mess over one finger.” You do your best to look at Sungho, seeing him tonguing the inside of his cheek as he keeps his eyes on your face. It has warmth rise to your cheeks. “I wonder how you’ll take my cock. It’s been a while, after all.”

Before you know it, another finger enters you. Your eyes are wide, your bottom half filled with pleasure. And when his thumb plays with your nub, you don’t know if you’ll be ready for his cock after all.

You thrash in bed, overwhelmed by pleasure, and Sungho only watches. The sight of you struggling to do anything while he holds you down, through satin or his hands, causes more precum to leak.

“S-Sungho, I don’t—”

“No, baby, you will. You’ll hold out until you get on my cock.” It’s a demand, and you don’t know if you’ll be able to fulfill it, but you try.

That is until his finger curls hits one spot; all resolve is broken. As he notices your expression shift, he smirks and continues his ministrations. A series of moans escapes you as he continues to hit your g-spot.

You swear you feel the band about to snap, and you consider telling Sungho that you’re about to come. But for selfish reasons, you don’t want to; all you want is to finally come.

You’re close, short rapid breaths escape you as you clench tighter around his digits, until his fingers leave you.

“Fuck!” You complain only to be met with Sungho’s chuckle. “I was so close! Are you kidding me?”

He clicks his tongue. “Didn’t I tell you to hold out?” He moves close to you, his cock lining up to your pussy. “You were going to disobey me if I kept going.”

You roll your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek. You’re irritated from being left high and dry.

“Fuck you—”

His cock enters you without warning, cutting you off and causing a moan to rip out of you. He goes at a steady speed, building the pleasure up.

“You’re still tight even after that?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you only answer in a series of moans. He chuckles. “My baby can’t even answer me properly this early on and we’ve only started.”

Before you know it, his cock leaves you, causing you to whine. You were going to complain, but he flips you so that you rest on your knees and elbows. 

Without a warning, he enters once more which has a moan rip out of you. He goes at the same pace but he feels deeper, hitting crevices that your fingers could never reach.

As Sungho continues to fuck you, you try to look back at him, and you watch how his eyebrows scrunch as he watches his cock enter you. Your eyes catch sight of the pink satin that clings to his skin and you cannot help but clench around his cock, making him moan along with you.

He finally notices your eyes on him, and he tongues the inside of his cheek. Then, he leans forward, face-to-face with you as his chest is pressed against your back.

“Baby.” he smiles at you—not a smug one but one filled with adoration. And yet…

“Should we try for another?” The air is knocked out of your lungs. His smile turns sinister as he feels you grow wetter at the thought. “Wouldn’t you love that? Another baby? Another opportunity to be filled to the brim?”

As he starts to pick up the pace, you can’t hold back your moans. “God, you just want to be filled with my cum, don’t you? Wouldn’t you love that? Just us trying again, again, again, for another baby, me filling you with cum.”

He watches your breathing get heavy over the idea; to be filled with Sungho’s cum for days, weeks, months, years as if it were your only job or purpose in life.

You feel it coming; the rubber band is about to snap at any moment.

“Fuck, I’m close—”

“Come for me. Do it, baby,” he chants such words. “I’m going to come. Going to fill you up, going to impregnate you,” he growls as he keeps going at such a fast pace. “And we’ll keep going baby, going to make sure you’re filled with so much cum that I’ll have to plug my fingers to keep it in.”

Your pants get heavier as you try to meet his thrusts. You’re so close but you don’t know what you need. You’re too light headed to think of what to do until you feel fingertips draw circles on your clit. Your moans get louder. Uncontainable.

You rip your gaze away from him, overwhelmed by the pleasure, and it lands on your satin-tied wrists. “Come for me, baby. Let me impregnate you,” he whispers into your ear.

The rubber band snaps. You clench around his cock as you come as a long moan leaves you, and Sungho can’t help but fill you with his cum.

It doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting, riding out his high to ensure that you’re filled with enough.

Once he stills, you find yourself collapsing down to the bed. You attempt to control your breathing, eyes shut from what just occurred.

“Baby, let me flip you. I need to remove the ribbons,” Sungho says with care.

You only hum. His cock leaves you, causing you to hiss as you’re still sensitive. His hands find themselves on your waist, flipping you so that you face him, and he undoes the ribbon wrapped around your wrists. He then takes the opportunity to examine your wrists.

“Does it hurt?”

You shake your head, smiling at your husband. “I’m okay.” You still see the pink satin wrapped around his neck. “That was good.”

He chuckles before pecking your lips. He takes in the sight of you in your fucked-out state dressed in pink ribbons that were once wrapped around him and his heart grows warm.

As his eyes trail down to your slit, he gasps. “Oh no, it’s leaking.” His fingers scoop his cum that leaks out of your pussy and shoves it back in, another hiss leaving you. “We don’t want to waste any cum.”

A giggle leaves you. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in for another kiss. “I love you.” Your fingers graze against the ribbon that still rests around his neck. “I’m glad you kept this on.”

He hums. “I mean, I knew it turned you on, so I played into it. I understand though. After seeing you tied up, maybe I need to learn shibari.”

You gulp at his words and he notices. A smirk lies on his lips. “Of course, I should’ve known. How come I never knew about this?”

You shrug. “I don’t know—well, I do know. I think I was just too shy to bring it up.”

“Baby,” he starts off, giving you another kiss, “there’s no need to be shy around me. I would love to know everything about you, even what gives you the most pleasure. What else do you like?”

You chew on your cheek. “Well, I really want to do shibari on you.”

“Deal.”

“I know you might not—wait, really?”

His lips press against your cheek. “I’m willing to try it out.” You cannot help yourself but smile. “So, now?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Sungho, you just gave me the most earth-shattering orgasm of my life, and your fingers are still in me. I don’t know if I can go another round.”

“You sure?” he smirks before letting his lips trail to your neck. “Just a little foreplay can change that.” He starts to suck on your skin, and you cannot help but let a moan slip. And when his fingers start to move, your eyes roll back.

God, you need to buy more ribbons for your daughter.

(And for you and Sungho, of course.)

taglist: @onedoornet @kflixnet

[michwritesstuff]

Can I get a FIC abt the reader being Theodore’s gf and best friend and she’s embarrassed and alone in her dorm bc of cramps and they are REALLY REALLY bad and he just comforts her and they snuggle and he gives her his hoodie and fluffy!! (I’m dying from my cramps in my bed rn 🙏 I need comfort from my book bf)

Ok I don’t even know where to begin other than saying that this was my first request! After writing for over 5 years I can’t begin to explain how rewarding it is to know that someone else wants to read your work! Thank you to all of you who always like and reblog my work! Love you forever. And thank you so much for this request, I hope that you love it :)

Just Want To Be With You (Harry Potter: Theodore Nott)

summary: female reader (she/her) x Theodore Nott

notes/warnings: mentions of bad period cramps, draco and mattheo being assholes (love them, but i needed a villain) fluff, and theodore just being comforting and cute, suggestive at the end

word count: 1,300+

You knew it. As soon as you woke up you knew that you had started your period. If the cramps from the day before didn’t tip you off already, they were making their presence known now.

You didn’t always have terrible cramps, but when you did…there wasn’t anything you wanted more than to curl up into a little ball under your sheets.

Alas, the world is unforgiving to women, and you couldn’t skip all your lessons without drawing some attention. Having to explain the inner workings of the female body to Professor Snape wasn’t exactly at the top of your priorities. So, you mustered up all the energy you could and went to the Great Hall for breakfast.

******

In hindsight, coming to breakfast may not have been the best idea. You were in pain and feeling quite nauseous, barely chewing on your toast as you poked at the food on your plate.

“You alright Y/N?” Pansy asked.

You gave her a weak smile as you shook your head no, gesturing to your stomach in the process. She gave you a knowing look, instantly understanding your frustration and pain.

You hoped that you would see Theo in here, he usually woke up later than you did so you knew it would be pointless to wait for him in the common room. Yet the lightly curly-headed and blue-eyed boy was nowhere in sight.

Malfoy and Mattheo whispering and giggling brought your attention back to the table.

“Look at Potter with that know-it-all mudblood, we’re going to wipe the floor with Gryffindor at tonight’s match.”

Now you weren’t exactly friends with Hermione Granger. She seemed nice enough from the lessons that you had shared with her, being a know-it-all was a pretty accurate description of her. But Malfoy was always a complete minger.

“Don’t use that word,” you spoke up, surprising the boys whose giggles and large smirks turned into sharp stares.

“What was that Y/L/N?” Mattheo spoke up.

“I said not to call her that,” you spoke again, more strongly.

Malfoy smirked before speaking again.

“What, are you friends with the mudblood? Why didn’t you just say so Y/N.”

“SHUT UP MALFOY!” you exclaimed.

“Jesus Christ you’re no fun,” Mattheo stated under his breath.

“What’s wrong with you, are you on your period or something?” Malfoy teased.

That caused both boys to laugh, along with a few first years seated a few feet down.

You got up quickly, storming out of the Great Hall. You could barely hear Malfoy doubled over in pain after Pansy had elbowed him in the stomach.

As you made your quick exit you bumped into a large figure.

“Love—”

It was Theodore. His bright smile dropping as he took in your state. Your face had reddened from the embarrassment and light tears filled your eyes.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yeah, just want to get to class early.”

“Ok, I’ll come wi—”

“NO!” you said, a little quicker and aggressively than you intended.

“You have a game today; you need to eat. I’ll see you in class," you smiled softly, reaching on your tiptoes to place a small kiss on the edge of his mouth.

Theodore watched as you left, a sad frown gracing his lips as he continued into the Great Hall.

******

Your lessons went by as smoothly as they could, despite the stabbing pain in your abdomen.

Theo was as supportive as he could be, you hadn’t exactly told him much. He knew something was wrong, but he knew better than to pry. You would tell him when you were ready.

As you walked back to towards the common room Theo swayed your hands back and forth. You looked up at him, giving a soft smile before your eyes dropped to the ground again.

“I’m going to grab my robes then stop at the great hall for a quick snack before heading to the pitch,” he told you.

FUCK…you forgot he had a match tonight.

“You know, I’m not feeling too well. Would you mind if I just stayed here?”

Of course it would be ok, Theo would never make you do anything that you didn’t want to.

 You loved going to his games and supporting him. He’d give you your favorite quidditch hoodie of his and look to the stands to see you cheering and screaming louder than anyone.

“I—Yeah…Y/N, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, just not feeling too hot,” you smiled weakly.

“Good luck tonight, I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

You hugged him tightly before giving him a soft kiss and walking up the stairs to your dorm room.

******

Hours had passed and you could assume that the match was over and Slytherin had won from the cheering and chanting that echoed up the stairs from the common room.

Your cramps were relentless. You took a steaming hot shower, and while the pain had subdued for a short moment, it had returned.

You were currently in the fetal position, clutching your stomach as tears fell from your eyes, your transfiguration textbook thrown aside as your homework was long forgotten.

Too caught up in your pain, you hadn’t heard when someone entered your room.

Theodore was terrified to find you curled up on the bed, soft whimpers leaving your lips.

“Darling!” he exclaimed, dropping his bag at the door and hurrying to your bed.

Your eyes shot open at the noise, turning your head to face him as he made his way over to you, your gaze softened.

“How was your game?” you asked.

“Y/N, enough. Please love, what’s wrong.”

There was no more hiding the pain, you were literally curled up in front of him.

“I’ve had the worst cramps all day and the pain just won’t go away. I tried to do McGonagall’s assigned reading, but I just couldn’t focus,” you said as the tears began to fall.

Theodore moved your books to the floor before moving you slightly so he could sit next to you.

“Why didn’t you just say so love? You know my mom makes that special tea.”

“I—I was embarrassed. Malfoy and Mattheo were being mean, and I just overreacted.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“What?”

“You didn’t overreact. You have every right to feel how you do right now. I’d like to see Malfoy have cramps. I’m sure he’d be even more insufferable than he is now.”

You chuckled softly at his statement.

Theodore always had a way of making you feel seen. He was your boyfriend of course, but he was also so much more than that. He was your best friend. Everything between you too was effortless, he never made you feel like a burden. You felt silly thinking that you were.

“What do you need from me?” he asked gently.

“Just want to be close to you,” you whispered softly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Now that I can do,” he said as he stood up.

“Theo, no, where are you going?”

Without answering you, he walked across your room and pulled his hoodie from his bag.

As he returned, you sat up slowly. Reaching for the hoodie he shook his head.

“Arms up.”

You happily complied and let him put the hoodie on you, pulling it on completely before leaning down to kiss your lips softly.

He shifted you away from him so he could cuddle up behind you. Pulling you close, he rested his hand on your stomach, drawing soft circles with his fingers.

You pushed your body back slightly, wanting to be as close as you could to him. He inhaled slightly at the friction before tightening his arm around you.

“You know, I remember reading some muggle article that says sex supposedly helps with cramps.”

“Oh shut up” you laughed.

“I’m serious,” he laughed with you.

Turning your head slightly so your lips could meet with his, you gave him a quick kiss before pulling back.

“I love you Theo.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

check out the rest of my masterlist :)

[httpiastri]

is it too early to ask for a fic abt imola's sprint race and how upset and angry paul was after the race ...

idk if this is what u wanted but i just felt like writing this. hope u like it <3 (still very much not over what happened)

four podiums in four rounds.

a consistent result like that should make any f2 driver satisfied.

should.

consistency is key, as you've seen so often in formula racing, but how can you tell that to someone who was just closer than ever to getting his maiden win in formula two?

to say that paul was a wreck after the race is an understatement. he refused to talk to you or any of his staff members – he even refused to talk to ralf, which was more worrisome than everything else. though, it didn't take you long to realize that he just needed to cool off on his own, just get some time to breathe in peace. so when he went back to your shared hotel room, you decided to stay at the track a little to watch the f1 qualifying, just so paul could have his much-needed alone time.

when you finally step into your hotel room hours later, after having gotten stuck in several tailbacks on your way back from the track, paul isn't resting on the bed like you thought he would be. he doesn't answer when you call out his name either, which really gets your heartbeat going.

you find him in the bathroom when you peek into it, his body submerged in the bathtub filled to the brim with foam and seemingly steaming water. you're not sure if he's even heard you come in because he doesn't move a single muscle nor open his eyes. he slowly looks up at you when you say his name again, though, eyes holding so much pain that the knot in your stomach grows even tighter. you have to do something, anything, to break him out of this cycle.

"can i join?"

it takes a second for him to react, but then he nods, and you step into the room. you slip out of the cute summery dress you've worn all day, removing all of your last clothing items aswell as your jewelry before moving towards him. the bathtub is tiny, nowhere near than ones you've shared before in luxury hotel rooms around the world. there's barely any space left for you to slip in, but you make it work.

the second your back meets his chest, his strong arms wrap around you and a content sigh leaves his mouth. neither of you care about the water flowing past the edge as you shuffle into his embrace; a wet floor is a problem for later. the bath soap he's used smells lovely, a mix of vanilla and rose meeting your nose and making you forget about how the water is burning your skin already. paul doesn't say anything, although he rests the side of his head against yours, warm breaths tickling the skin of your neck.

you take the opportunity to speak when you're met with it. you can't just let it go on like this all night. "do you... want to talk about it?" you ask, voice low as if not to scare him. as if the mere thought of the race is enough to scare him.

he lets out a hum. "no."

you pause for a few moments, considering the idea of just letting go of the topic. you decide that you can't. "can i talk about it, then?"

"i can't stop you, can i?"

you lift one of his hands from your waist, letting your pointer finger trace along his own fingers. they're pruney and soft, revealing how long he must've been in the bath already, while the calluses along the upper part of his palm from endless hours of racing and weightlifting stay hardened. you slot your fingers in between his, wrapping your other hand around the back of his hand too.

"no matter if you like to hear it or not," you begin. "you did well. that was an amazing race."

"but-"

a dismissive sound bubbles from your throat to cut him off. "no buts. it could've just as well gone your way today." you shift in his hold and turn your head so that you can look into his pretty blue eyes, and he already looks much calmer than before. "it's okay to fall apart, but we're building you up stronger for tomorrow. okay?"

his breath rises with his deep breath, and he soon nods. you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek, and then you can't help but to give him another one. and another. and one to the tip of his nose, one to his forehead, one to that spot right by his temple that he loves so much.

finally he smiles, and he looks almost relieved to do it; like it's been ages since he had something to be happy about. he even lets out a small laugh when you keep up with your pecks, and he has to place a hand on your cheek to halt your actions.

he guides you forward, slotting your lips against his, before letting his hand glide to the back of your neck to keep you close.

hopefully you've actually gotten through to him. in the world of f2, every setback feels like tall mountain you have to climb; losing a race lead is like reaching the summit only to slip right back down again. it sounds like an impossible task, and if it were up to you, you would tell him to save himself the heartbreak and get an easier job. but racing is what he loves.

and together, you make it work.

no matter if it's about fitting into a small bath or coming back better the next day.

[koolades-world]

Hello is hug deprived anon again (this might be becoming my name oh no) and I’ve had an idea

I’m sure we can all agree that mammon deserves all the love, especially because his brothers are too mean to him, they pretend they don’t love him too constantly

So, what if Mammon is away for a week, doing photoshoots or dealing with witches or something, and MC is moping because they miss him,, like, they keep turning to their side to whisper to him and then like deflating when they see no Mammon,, and like, reaching out on that side to hold his hand and then being confused when there’s nothing there, and then they realize :( maybe they stole his blanket from his room because it smells like him, so it’s the best substitute for Mammon hugs while he’s away

Maybe Beel (idk if any of the other bros would be nice enough to tell him) is texting him like “your human is too sad come back soon” and sending him pictures of MC doing this stuff

When Mammon returns MC jumps on him for hugs like “you’re home!!!!!”

Idk I think he’d cry

I think he would feel very loved and probably also cry abt it

What you think? What do you think he’d do?

(If you choose not to write anything about this no worries obviously) (but I eventually might lol I think it’d be very cute and make him very happy to have someone who really misses him when he’s away)

HI!! haha if you want and plan to request more, feel free to pick an anon name! or I could just call you something like hug LOL

wayyy back when I first got into obey me in like 2021, there was this one specific fic I read kind of similar to his idea where mammon was upset at be mistreated and mc stood up for him and it was this cute bonding moment, and this request kinda reminded me of that!! gonna try to channel it a little bit

this idea is literally so cute and I'd be happy to write it! it makes my brain like a cat who has the zoomies hehe enjoy :D

How Ironic

You watched agonizingly as the clock ticked by even slower than usual. You'd been trying to do some sort of work, or anything other than stare at the damned clock forever now, but you just couldn't focus.

It had been exactly four days, six hours, and fifteen minutes and counting since Mammon had left for a week long promotional photoshoot in another ring of hell. You had your sad, but sweet send off and you promise yourself that time apart might be good for you. After all, it always felt like you could never get anything done with Mammon around. Yet, here you were, staring blankly at a clock with a blank piece of paper and pen in front of you.

Finally deciding to throw in the towel for now, you got up from your desk in your room. A walk to a local convivence store was in order. Snacks and fresh air wasn't a combo you could pass up. On your way out, you passed the door to his room which was slightly ajar. You briefly had the thought to poke your head in and ask him if he wanted to come, before remembering that he wouldn't be in there. You continued your walk to the front door, where you put on your shoes and grabbed a bag that had a few necessities in it for the short journey.

Thankfully, you hadn't passed any of his brothers on the way there, meaning you didn't have to explain yourself or have them ask to tag along. While you enjoyed their company, they weren't Mammon. If you needed help, you could always summon one of them thanks to the pacts, but you needed this short walk to clear your head.

The air was unfortunately stifling and overly humid outside, making you glad you were dressed light. It was basically just your pajamas but when you went out with Mammon, the two of you did this every time. As you autopiloted to your favorite corner store, your thoughts wandered back to Mammon again. You wondered how he was doing and if he missed being at home. You couldn't blame him if he didn't and hoped he was enjoying his time away from home as much as you wished he was by your side.

Once you got to the store, you wandered around for a bit, debating what to get. After grabbing a small basket, you began to pile in various things that sounded good. Once the basket was full, you came to the realization that all the snacks were Mammon's favorites; hell sauce flavored instant noodles, Chaos Devil Cider and ginger ale to mix, Devilbee honey popcorn, and a variety pack of Devildom gummies. This is what he introduced you to the first time you did a snack run together. You decided, in light of this discovery, to buy extras for him for when he got back. You figured he would enjoy it and it was the least you could do to thank him for introducing you to so many tasty things you would've not tried otherwise. Once you checked out, you returned back to the House of Lamentation with a new skip in your step.

You made your way back up to your room, and passed the ajar door of Mammon's room again. Memories of the two of you together flooded back again, and you couldn't help but step in. Just being in his room was like he was really right next to you again. You couldn't help but sit on his sofa and think about how much you missed him even though it hadn't even been a full week. His absence made you realize how much you missed his presence. After a moment, you decide to leave the snacks you bought for him on his bedside table so his brothers were less likely to wander in and find them before him.

As you were setting down everything you'd gotten for him, you something caught your eye just about to fall off the end of his bed. After you picked it off the edge of his bed, you realized it was the hoodie he always wore around the house. It was faded from lots of usage and the strings were fraying. You knew it smelt like his cologne and his shampoo from all of the tight embraces he'd given you while wearing it. You for sure thought he would've taken it with him, but it looked as if he had thrown it off last minute and thrown it on his bed without looking back.

Looking around as if someone might be watching (which could very well be the case since Lucifer was notoriously quiet), you pulled it to your chest and deeply inhaled. Of course, there was the chance that it was dirty, but you couldn't care less. It wasn't anything you hadn't seen of him before. Since there really wasn't anything stopping you, you took it back to your room with you. You weren't even really that cold, in all honesty. It was more of the idea that he was right next to you since it smelt just like him.

You continued your night like you had before you left, just with his hoodie on. You were magically much more productive wearing it and you managed to get several things done. Usually, you would be chatting with Mammon on the phone at about this time to talk about how your days were, but he was unfortunately busy with something work related. Instead, you decided to send him a sweet goodnight text and send a picture of your set up with the food and the show you've been watching one episode at a time. Not expecting a response before you called it a night, you turn your phone off and focused on eating and watching tv.

Beel wasn't sure what woke him up first: his stomach or Mammon blowing up his phone. Sitting up in his bed, he peered at his screen, squinting at it. He had at least twenty texts from his brother asking him to check on Mc for him after they hadn't responded to his texts. He wasn't sure if Mammon knew they were probably asleep or if he was just worrying for no reason. Either way, he decided to check on them for him anways. After his kitchen run, of course.

After letting Mammon know, he got out of bed and left his room. On his way to the kitchen, however, he ended up following the smell of cup noodles to Mc's room. There, he was able to complete both of his missions. He snapped a picture of Mc fast asleep with a couple half finished snacks, then took the snacks. Mission complete.

Mammon was only halfway through the only kind of dumb business dinner when he spammed Beel about Mc. He was more worried than he would admit to himself about them. He knew it was probably nothing and that they had fallen asleep, but Beel was usually awake at this time eating anyways. The food was nice and he was the star of the show, but the dinner was much too stifling for his taste. Most importantly, it was cutting into his precious time with Mc, something he looked forward to at the end of every day. He loved getting to hear their voice after being away from them for so long. He missed getting to see them in person, but getting to hear them was next best.

As he was poking at his food, he finally got the response he was waiting hand and foot on. Beel had responded with just an image at first, so he scrambled to open it. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was a picture of his beloved Mc fast asleep in their bed. You looked so peaceful but your face was barely visible because of the hood pulled up over your eyes. After squinting, he realized the hoodie you were wearing looked oddly familiar. He realized that that was his hoodie, the one he'd left on his bed when he was late the morning he left.

He could barely contain his excitement and it must had been evident on his face since those around him glanced at him, and then between each other a few times. He saved the photo to his phone, and texted Beel back a thanks. As everyone talked around him, he debating asking to leave the shoot early right then and there. If he left right now, he would be able to make it home before you woke up. While he entertained this thought for a while, eventually he decided to stick it out since there were only a few days left. As soon as he was allowed to leave, however, he would buy you something with the paycheck he'd be given. Something nice, maybe a gold bracelet that would remind you of him when you see it. He spent the rest of the night thinking, then dreaming about you. He could only hope you were doing the same. (you were <3)

After those final two and a half agonizing days and many texts later, it was finally time for Mammon to return home. For now, he decided to leave his car parked just outside the house, since he may or may not have been planning to take you out to dinner later that day. As soon as he walked in the door, one of his suitcases in tow, something, or rather someone, attacked him with a flying hug. At first, he was processing the situation as Mc began to squeal and squeeze him as tight as they could into a hug. He wasn't really sure where they had come from, but he knew who it was as soon as their arms were around him.

"MAMMON!" Mc swung the both of them around, buzzing with excitement. "Diavolo, I missed you so much. I don't want to let go of you. If you don't take me with you next time, I might die of sadness and loneliness!" Their arms were around his neck, and their face in his chest. He finally let go of his suitcase and hugged them back. He held them close, shutting his eyes for a moment to take it all in.

"I missed ya too. 's good to be back." He, again, couldn't stop the smile from growing on his face. His brothers never expressed themselves the way Mc was to him in that moment, so he wasn't quite sure how to feel. They never seemed excited to see him, so it was so refreshing to see Mc visibly excited and made him feel truly loved. All their time apart was worth moments like these.

As MC was squealing, a few of his brothers began to gather around the foyer around them. Perhaps they heard them, or maybe they knew he'd be back today at around this time. Either way, he waved at them, still keeping an arm around Mc.

"Guys! Mammon is back." Mc nuzzled his neck, still holding onto him.

"We can see that." Belphie remarked, sounding unamused. Mammon's smile faded a little. So, they didn't care that he was back, did they? He should've expected that from them. Actually, they probably wished he'd been gone for longer with the way they treated him sometimes.

"I talked to you guys about this. I don't expect you to do what I'm doing, but you need to show him you're happy he's back. You can't lie, he's irreplaceable! I don't know what I'd do without him, and I missed him so much." Just like that, Mc's words lifted him back up. Suddenly, he was no longer upset that his brothers didn't care. He had the attention and care from the person he thought about the entire time he was gone. "Shame on you all. Don't expect me to talk to you for the next few days. Let's get your things from the car, and go upstairs. We have so much to catch up on!" Mc only let go of his neck to grab his hand instead. They dragged him back out of the house, shutting the door with their foot behind the two of them.

"Mc, ya didn't have to do all that fer me..." Mammon glanced back at the shut door. His brothers didn't open it, or try to follow them.

"But I did! You're my first man, after all. I really can't express how much I missed you and just saying it doesn't feel like enough." They reached into the trunk of his car to begin taking out his suitcases. Mammon moved them aside gently, not wanting them to do even more for him that he felt as if he didn't deserve.

Mammon was silent for a moment, then decided to go digging through his backpack for the bracelet he'd bought for you. He hoped it would make it easier to tell you how he felt. "Here, this is fer you." He presented the small, black box to them. Looking caught off guard, they accepted it and opened it carefully. Your mouth dropped open as you saw the golden piece of jewelry he bought for you on the drive back.

"Mammon! This is beautiful. Thank you so much! But, I don't understand why. What's the occasion?" You removed it from the box and held it up to the light to study it. Several small charms hung off of it.

"That's the thing. There isn't one." He took a deep breath and looked down at his feet before continuing. "I just... yer so good to me. Ya texted me daily, called me daily, thought about me while I was gone, and even waited fer me like that so ya could surprise me when I got back. Ya care, and I know I'm not the best with showin' I care and it makes me feel shitty. Thank you, fer everythin'. I really missed ya." He couldn't see how Mc reacted, but was essentially tackled into another hug again by them.

"Mams, you show me you care in little ways. Just because you don't say it, doesn't mean that you don't. You just being back here with me is more than enough." He immediately thought about how ironic the entire situation was. He never actually told them how he felt and treated them like garbage sometimes, and he thought it might've been pushing the person he cared for most away, but really, he never had to worry about that. he'd never considered that they could see past his inability to admit his feelings. He hugged them back, savoring the moment since this time they were alone.

"Thank you Mc." He held back happy tears.

"No, thank you! Thank you for always being by my side. Now, instead of actually unpacking, let's just lock the car and sneak back inside. Maybe they'll eventually feel sorry and come looking for us, but we'll actually be hiding right under their noses. It'll be like a spy mission." Mc giggled leaning back to see his face. Mammon let them look him in the eyes, glistening tears and all.

"Yeah, let's do that. We can watch that movie ya wanted to watch and just share headphones." He found himself joining in with the quiet laughing along to something he wasn't sure either of them really understood. Something he did understand however, was that he knew he was loved back by the one he loved the most, and couldn't ask for more.

[mickeyswhore]

Runaway

Request: hello! ive been having MAJOR house of wax/vincent brainrot....im wondering if you can do a vincent sinclair small fic? or something like that, im not used to fic terms,,,,,, it can be anything you want to write abt :3

A/N: Vincent Sinclair is so pookie, having brainrot about him is so valid and I totally get you, I hope you like it, let me know. 🫶

Summary: After suffering a mental breakdown, you decide to go on a road trip. You stumble upon a small town called Ambrose, and things escalate from there.

Vincent Sinclair x Reader

Warnings: just your run of the mill murder mentions, nothing much and dark undertones, this was low key fluffly.

GIF by @coppoladelrey

After you had a mental breakdown for being too overworked, you decided to go on a road trip so you can relax and just see new places. You avoided the highways because driving on those was extremely depressing so you were in country roads, now you were in Louisiana. It was hot and you were so thankful for your A/C being so powerful.

You decided to stop in a small town that you stumbled upon, it was around 1:00 PM and it was time to get more snacks and water, you parked your car in front of the small shop and you left the car. When you tried to enter the shop, it was locked. You found it odd since it was 24 hours, but you decided to wait to open again, you were in no rush so you decided to wait in your car.

Losing track of time playing games on your phone, you heard someone knocking at your window, you yelled and put your hand on your chest. You looked and you saw a man in a suit, you smiled tightly at him and left the car to be able to talk to him.

“You alright, sugar?” Bo thought it was extremely odd that not even Lester was able to see where you were coming from.

“Yeah, just passing by. I needed to buy some snacks for the journey, but it seems to be closed.” You pointed at the shop and Bo smiled at you.

“I think the owner had to leave for a few hours, you’re than welcomed to wait. But you shouldn’t in the car, come on I’ll walk you around the city, we have a wax museum that’s really cool. I’m Bo, by the way.” He raised his hand for you to shake and you did, you also introduced yourself.

The two of you walked towards the museum, and Bo kept asking questions such as why you were travelling, where you were heading and why you were by yourself. You didn't like the fact that he was almost interrogating you but you tried to keep your answers to a minimum. You weren’t to divulge the state of your mental health for this trip to be possible, you didn't resent Bo, you simply blamed it on southern hospitality so you remained pleasant and polite.

“Here we are, I have the keys to it so I can show you around.” Bo opened the door and allowed you to enter before him and he started telling the story about the museum. “Trudy was the woman that started it all, she had great talent we try to keep her legacy alive.” You looked at the the wax figures and they’re amazing, you’ve never seen anything like this before.

“It’s beautiful, who’s the current artist?” You asked whilst still looking at the statues, it was like nothing you’ve ever seen in your life before.

“His name is Vincent.” Bo informed you, he was watching you admiring Vincent’s work with genuine wonder and that made him smile.

“I’d love to meet him.” That was the only outcome for you, meeting the genius behind these sculptures, you felt a connection with him even though you have no idea who he is.

“He’s, well how do you say it? A recluse?” Bo explained to you and the way you deflated made his heart clench, why was he so affected by your sadness? He already looked at you with this sense of protection, he didn't want to kill you, it was strange.

“That’s a pity, it would be great to meet him.” You looked so sad, and Bo couldn’t have that. Vincent would kill him but if it was a bad idea Vincent was going to kill you anyway.

“Well, he lives down here. You can try to talk to him, can’t make any promises though.” Bo showed you the way and so you did, it was dark and you could tell that candles were lit.

Vincent was freaking out, why would Bo do this? Vincent didn't want to kill you at all, and you seemed very interested in his art. Ever since you and Bo entered the museum, Vincent was admiring you and he wanted to make you his muse.

“Hello? Vincent? I was looking at your art and it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I’d love to meet you if you want.” The hope in your voice was the most amazing thing for Vincent, you were so respectful and you loved his art Vincent’s heart was skipping a beat, he wanted to get to know you but you would scream and run away as soon as you saw him. “I hope you can hear me, your art is amazing.” Vincent took a deep breath and showed in your field of vision and he couldn’t even look up to your face of disgust.

“Hi! I’m so glad to meet you, Bo said that you were more of an introvert so it’s an honour.” You got close to him and raised your hand to shake Vincent’s, he reluctantly raised his and looked at you and you had the biggest smile Vincent has ever seen. He didn't say anything and you assumed that he was a man of few words. “Well, I think that I should leave you be. You’re probably very busy and I didn't mean to intrude, so I should get going.” Vincent started panicking, he didn't want you to leave.

Vincent grabbed your arm and guided you to one of his almost finished figure, you were admiring Vincent’s work and he was admiring you, your eyes, your cheeks, your complexion. He didn't want you to leave, and he didn't want you to die, he needed you.

“That’s amazing, Vincent. Thank you for showing me this.” You put your hand in his arm and smiled at him warmly, you couldn’t deny that his shy nature drew you in. You wanted to learn more about him, maybe you could stay a bit longer in this town. Vincent nodded and in a bold move, he put his hand on top of yours. “I hope that you can say yes, but totally alright if you don’t…would you like to go out for a cup of coffee with me?” You internally cringed with how awkward you were but Vincent couldn’t help but love it. He nodded and he was glad he did, because he was able to see the biggest smile he has ever seen.

“Great, well I better find a hotel. Do you know any?” Vincent nodded his head, he would need Bo’s help to keep you here. He doesn’t want you to leave.

You’re his, his muse, forever.

Bo already got your car broken when he didn't hear any screams he realised that Vincent didn't want you to leave, at all. Meanwhile, you and Vincent were spending this time contemplating art and talking about it, you were so excited where this was taking you, and Vincent already knew that you weren’t leaving at all.

[hanlimz]

synopsis: you always have room for yang jungwon. pairing: jungwon x gn!reader genre/warnings: best friends to lovers!!! / self-indulgent fluff! ig maybe angst if you squint, won compares himself to others, reader talks abt being in pain but it's not real (?), mayhaps this fic is a bit incoherent T_T i wrote this in one sitting that ended at 3am so quality may be a little iffy (sorry :,( , mayb i'll rewrite in the future!) wc: 1.4k a/n: cass write for someone that isn't yang jungwon challenge : FAILED ! nah but fr tho, this pic has a Grip on me n i was possessed to write. but in all srsness, i Am working on other non-won centric fics n they should be out.......soon (?)

[8:36PM] through the lens of your grandfather's old polaroid camera, the sun seems to cradle jungwon's face in her array of rich oranges and deep reds. she places her bright lips on the crown of his head and bathes him in a warm, summer light; her golden fingers reach down to smooth out a few stray strands of his hair while moving slowly to caress the sharp angles of his silhouette. however, the glow he radiates almost manages to outshine her as the peach hues of the sky only serve to accentuate his natural beauty. his cheeks are full and round after a (near) five course meal at your grandparents' cottage, his lips are a delicate pink that matches the swath of tulips outside of your old elementary school, and his eyes sparkle in a manner that mirrors the ocean behind him. and, in mere seconds, you decide that this vacation is one of the best ideas you've ever had.

two hearts healing together as one, each enveloping the other in blanket after blanket of pure, unadulterated adoration. with a gleeful flicker in his gaze that you weren't able to place, jungwon had agreed to accompany you—biking around your hometown while reliving old memories and chronicling stories of youthful grandeur. the tranquility had grown steadily, like the dawn of a new day or the promise of a new beginning, and the certainty of his presence came to be all-consuming and ever-existing.

perhaps, you dare to let yourself believe, jungwon had become your sun. since the fifth grade, he has been the one constant in your life. he was the young boy who led you on a tour of your new school after packing up and leaving the place you called home, and he was the kind stranger who helped you catch up on the topics you missed out on. jungwon was the hesitant acquaintance turned best friend, and he is the one person you want to be with after oblivion plagues the earth. but, drawing too close is dangerous—his heat could scorch your skin while his love turns you to ash. for a moment, you ponder that particular track of thought and allow the train to run its course. perhaps, you correct yourself, jungwon has always been your sun.

"[y/n]!" he calls, beckoning you forth from the daydream you found yourself trapped in, "did you get the picture?" no matter the timbre, his voice is melodic, hypnotizing—it is the perfect addition to the evening's quiet sonata. he sings alongside the croaking frogs and the chirping crickets, welcoming the moon as it takes its place in the night sky.

you reply, trying to push down the sudden panic rising in your throat, "not yet, won—stay just like that!"

the camera clicks as it snaps a photo of the masterpiece before your eyes. upon hearing the sound, jungwon leaps from his position on the rocks and bounds over to watch the film develop. with a gentle tug, he pulls the picture from your grasp; jungwon shakes it and blows on it before resigning himself to the painful reality of waiting. the nerves that were crashing like angry waves against the walls of your stomach become a tsunami as he settles with his shoulder brushing against yours. his touch hurts—his presence, though ineffably beautiful, singes the hairs on your arms and ignites a column of blue flame around your heart. a tumultuous contradiction begins to swell inside of you; the peace jungwon imbues in you fights tooth and nail with the doubt your brain conjures up.

don't get too close.

don't let his fire catch.

don't let yourself be caught.

as the colors turn vibrant and jungwon's form becomes clearer, you attempt to hold everything in—every thought, every feeling, every wish, every dream. but, the walls you've kept up for so long start to break and something is forced to give. unable to will your mouth shut any longer, words spill out before you can shove them back down. "you're gorgeous—i mean, it's gorgeous! the picture, that is. i really love you—no, wait. i really love the way you look in the photo ... the sun was really pretty, the sky was perfect, everything was—"

jungwon's laughter stuns you to silence; he clutches his belly while doubling over at your jumbled mess of a confession. his eyes are closed, and you're almost positive his voice will be hoarse tomorrow with the volume at which he's expressing his amusement. the blue flame has been reduced to embers, but another influx of agony washes over you, cutting deeper than before.

"jungwon ..." you say, voice thick with impending tears, "this isn't f—"

a soft hand is pressed to your cheek. the gesture is tender and loving, conveying more than words ever could. his expression is firm, and all traces of humor have dissipated in an attempt to communicate his true feelings with you. "i love you, too," jungwon replies, rubbing his thumb over the apex of your cheekbone. "i love you, too."

"you do?" you ask, fear prickling like thousands of tiny needles under your skin.

"of course, i do." his answer makes everything seem so simple.

"no—but, i'm saying that i love you, love you. i love you in the sense that i want to spend every waking minute next to you, but i don't want to fuck anything up or make anything weird. i love you so much that my future plans always include you—no matter the way, shape, or form. the house i want to live in always has a room for you—i always have room for you." raw emotion overtakes the usual tone of your voice as the reality of this beachside argument about love and clarity and blurred lines sets in. you want him to understand. you need him to understand.

jungwon pauses for a moment. he takes a step closer to your body; the sweet aromas of blood oranges and limes permeate the air shared between the two of you while hints of vanilla and spice mingle with the citrus. never in the eight years that you've known him has jungwon ever been this forward, but as he gazes at you with two umber oceans—you can't bring yourself to care. "i get it. i swear i get [y/n]—and, i'm saying that i love you, love you, too," he giggles, diffusing the tension in the blink of an eye. "i think i always have, [y/n], but deep down, i'm still just that little fifth grade scaredy cat.

our friendship is one of the most important things in the world to me. i honestly think losing you would kill me. and, i know, i'm not the greatest with words if i'm not reading them from a script. i'm nothing special. i'm not good at things right away like heeseung, and i'm not a romantic like jay or jake. i don't have sunghoon's allure or sunoo's charm or riki's magnetism. i'm just me—good enough to be your friend, but not good enough be anything more."

the anger and hurt have been washed away by the soothing rays of jungwon's light, and you speak softly, "isn't that for me to decide?"

he reluctantly agrees, shuffling his feet as though he wants to pull away. rocks clack against one another, and the cacophony of noise foretells a future in which you let him walk away. so, your body moves on its own, and your hand shoots out to grab jungwon's wrist. surprise is evident in his stare as his eyes flick between your face and where the two of you are connected. with a newfound sense of courage, you pull him infinitely closer to you while relishing in the way his frame seems to fit perfectly against yours.

"you're good enough for me, yang jungwon," you declare. "you've always been good enough for me, and you always will be."

as high tide begins to roll in with the moon, a gentle quietude falls upon the beach. the polaroid photo has long since been forgotten, lost to the rocky shore and the sands of time. the sun has disappeared and her palette of colors has faded along with her, but you are still warm. jungwon cards his fingers through your hair while you find solace in the constant beat of his heart; fire still licks at your skin, cinders still smolder in the pit of your stomach, but there is no room for pain in his arms.

jungwon is your sun, and this time—you let yourself burn.

[autistic-katara]

ok i might get blocked by a couple ppl for saying this but the Jackson’s Diary fandom is seriously making me wanna become a proshipper out of spite (read the post before blocking me or whatever please)

like idk if u guys have checked the fandom tag on ao3 recently but theres been a bit of drama surrounding the fact that someone posted a smut-fic of Exer (an 18yo) and David (an almost 18yo, who was aged up A FEW MONTHS for the fic) and they were harassed into taking it down and making a fucking apology post ON AO3, THE PROBLEMATIC FANWORKS WEBSITE.

and this fic was tagged 100% correctly like it was very explicitly tagged as smut n stuff yet there were still a bunch of comments being like “uhm what did i just read 🤨” and when i made a comment defending the authors right to yk, not be harassed for making not even rlly problematic content someone who clearly would suffer withdrawal symptoms if they turned twitter off for too long started arguing with me abt how “erm ackhtually we should be allowed to comment harassment under ppls harmless and explicitly tagged fics cause theres no smut in this fandom and it shocked us” and u could just rlly tell they felt they were more righteous than God in their opinions and yeah so cut to tonight when i’m scrolling through the tag and i see a post titled “i’m so sorry” in which the author made a post basically being like “i’m so sorry for posting that ik it was disgusting it has been permanently deleted” which in the comments a few ppl were telling them that what happened sucked n stuff (myself included // judging by their reply they only did this to stop the harassment which yk, completely fair) and i went back to scrolling since i wanted an actual fic not fandom drama but like 2 posts down there was another post titled “please stop” or smthn like that where someone else made a post basically being like “guyssss can we please not write smut of these characters this fandom is so wholesome i dont wanna ruin it 🥺 anyways sorry this isnt a fic this just needed to be said lol” and like dude, my guy, WHAT THE FUCK?!

this is AO3, this is a fanwork archive that as far as i know was created (at least partially) due to the fact that ppl kept getting their “problematic” works taken down from other sites and the creators wanted to yk archive all fanworks. this is NOT a social media site where u can make callout posts abt how what someone else posted disturbed ur pure wholesome chaste scrolling by daring to uploaded something with *gasp* consensual sex between 2 consenting adults?! (or canonically 1 consenting adult and 1 consenting gonna-be-an-adult-in-a-few-months-but-isnt-much-younger-than-the-first-guy but u get the idea)

like guys, ao3 is not twitter. it is not tiktok, it is not tumblr, its not youtube, its not even wattpad. it is not a social media platform, it is a fanwork archive, specifically one that lets u post whatever kinda content u want (yes, even smthn depicting 2 consenting adult/almost adult participates that are in no way related having sex, ik its crazy what they allow online these days).

and look honestly the callout post wouldn’tve annoyed me this much if it was posted on yk an actual social media. like if it was posted on twitter or tiktok or on youtube as a video essay or even on here, like sure if i saw it id be annoyed that this fandom cant handle the tiniest bit of non-puritanicalism and fuck, maybe if it was on here id even drag myself into a pointless days-long argument that causes me suicidal levels of stress but on archive of our fucking own itself?! for the millionth time, IT IS NOT A SOCIAL MEDIA! u dont make posts like that that u want the rest of the fandom to read or whatever on there because its not that kinda website!

anyways yeah i hope i explained the situation ok, u might be able to check it out urself if u feel like it and yeah idk this whole thing just kinda felt like a wake-up call for me like yes i find incest and pedophilia disgusting OBVIOUSLY and i dont like ppl romanticising it in fiction but idk i’ve seen ppl talk abt toxic antis before and show screenshots of conversations where theyve acted super shitty but idk seeing this all unfold in person and having to argue with these hardcore antis just- i dont wanna be associated with these ppl, if these are what alotta antis r like i dont want anyone to assume i agree with them like at all, whether its other antis, proshippers, or ppl like me who have a super complicated opinion on it. like they harassed a person into taking down their smut and made call-out posts on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN abt how they dont want their wholesome pure fandom corrupted by gross dirty irredeemable sex. and just yeah hope no mutuals i seriously care abt unmoot or even block me over this since ik a few of u r antis but yeah srry for this i just kinda seriously hate this fandom right now :)

also incase anyone is typing out a “kill yourself pedo” reply/rb rn; i turn 15 on Friday, i am 2+ years younger than ur innocent bb minor boy David and his definitely not already a legal adult boyfriend Exer so yk

[mandobatemans]

intrigue (Tom Wambsgans x f!reader)

warnings: infidelity, fingering, unprotected piv sex, soft!dom tom, size kink kinda, biting, greg, do NOT have sex with the head of conservative news organizations irl!!!, i am a shivcel fr anything negative abt shiv in here i didn't mean it ily siobhan 🫶, NSFW UNDER THE CUT

word count: 4,740 (i got carried away)

A/N: this is loosely based on s4 e7 but there's no real timeline so it probably takes place like somewhere around season 3 or 4? this is my first succ fic so...enjoy 🤗 & also this took me SO long to write i'm so deeply sorry to anyone who was waiting

also posted to ao3

Tom had never been a fan of the whole “open marriage” arrangement. When he thought back to that fateful night (fateful night…who else would say that about their wedding night?) what he remembered most was the look on Shiv’s face when she told him that she wanted an open marriage. On their wedding night.

It was more for Shiv anyway. Tom rarely thought about actually acting on the arrangement, whether it be out of love for Shiv or loyalty to her father, he wasn’t sure. Sure, he had kissed someone here or done oral there when high on coke, but he had never actually fucked anyone else.

Something was different, though, tonight. Firstly, they were hosting a Waystar/ATN event at their apartment, and despite being chairman of ATN, he wasn't even sure what the evening was for. Shiv had told him about it last minute, casually mentioning it as they were being driven to work, like it was dinner at Logan’s rather than hundreds of media moguls and politicians to host. Actually, dinner at Logan’s felt equally, if not more, important than tonight. A better equivalent for how nonchalantly Shiv had mentioned it would be Connor inviting them somewhere.

Secondly, Shiv had suggested, outright, that they both find someone to hook up with at the party tonight. Earlier in their bedroom, after getting dressed in silence, Shiv had turned to Tom while putting her earrings in to share the idea. He knew she would be acting on it whether or not he did, and why shouldn’t he? It had been a while since he had gotten laid and was verbally (and physically) assaulting Greg a lot more as a result.

Did he just pick someone? How did you approach someone and say, “Hey, I’m in an open marriage but I’ve never actually done anything more than get my dick sucked with anyone else…anyway, let’s fuck!”

Tom fidgeted with his glass as he surveyed the room.

Despite your personal beliefs and the endless human rights violations that Waystar was affiliated with, their (and by extension ATN) events were some of the most lavish you'd ever attended. As a political journalist, it was standard for your company to send a journalist or two to whatever soirée the Roys were throwing. Everyone took turns, and this time you had drawn the short straw. It hadn’t been too bad so far, you thought, although perhaps you were jinxing yourself. You had kept to yourself mostly, chatting with other journalists you frequently saw around the city on assignments, snacking on the hors d'oeuvres, and listening to the ridiculous conversations political and media bigwigs were having.

You had been to an event hosted by the Roys before, but they were usually at ATN, Waystar, or some expensive venue. Being invited as a member of the press to Shiv Roy’s apartment felt strangely intimate. You were certain this was some calculated business move on the part of one Roy or the other, but you honestly didn’t really care. Whatever drama was happening within Waystar Royco was contained within the Roy family. You were simply here to supplement a piece your coworker was writing on the atmosphere of this political season.

It was only an hour into the party when you had collected all the quotes and interviews you needed, and sampled almost all of the hors d'oeuvres. Your boss expected journalists to stay for most, if not all, of the night for these things, in case some political bombshell were to happen. You were pretty sure nothing too monumental was going to happen in this room full of suits, especially with all of the Roys notably absent from the festivities. Even Shiv, whose house it was, looked like she wasn't paying any attention to what was going on in her home. In fact, she had been in the corner all night, talking to some prominent New York and D.C. women, important enough that you knew their faces but not important enough for you to attach any names to them.

You checked your phone for the time. You could probably get away with leaving in another hour if you made up some family emergency as an excuse for your editor. Even another hour seemed like ages. Maybe you could re-interview some people? Speak to some guests whose quotes would never make it in the article just to kill time? Sighing, you opened your messages, thumbs hovering over the chat with your editor, putting your journalism degree to use by brainstorming an excuse to get you back home in your bed before ten o’clock. When you turned around to pace while you typed (a nervous habit), you found yourself face-to-face with one of your hosts.

It felt like a fucking cliché. Literally bumping into someone at a party? If one of your writer friends wrote something like this, you'd tell them it was bullshit and things like that didn't happen in real life. Yet here you were, inches away from–

“Tom Wambsgans, Chairman of Global Broadcast News at ATN.” He introduced himself, reaching out a hand for you to shake.

You returned the handshake, grateful that he wasn’t offended by you bumping into him. “I know who you are.”

“And I know who you are.” He paused. “That sounded stalkerish, didn’t it? I meant, I know who you are because I’ve read your articles.”

“You have?” You were surprised. Your company and your articles in particular were considered left-leaning, the very opposite of the stories ATN ran.

He nodded. “Gotta keep up with the competition. I’ve seen some of your features on the network, as well.”

“Really? I would have thought you would just watch ATN all day,” you teased.

Tom made a face and then shook his head. “No, no, no. Plus, I wouldn’t really call any of our journalists ‘journalists’ so much as pretty faces. You do your own research and look good on the camera. That’s impressive.”

You raised an eyebrow and Tom’s eyes widened, processing what he had just said.

“God, I do sound like a fucking stalker.”

You laughed, “Just a little bit.” You let him cringe for a second, then smiled to reassure him. “No, but I’ve seen some of your interviews since you took over ATN. You look good on the camera, too.” You paused, before adding, “Maybe that makes us both a little stalkerish.”

His eyes lit up at your response, earning a genuine laugh (the first one that night not faked for some suit, he noted).

“Uh, sorry for bumping into you. I wasn't looking where I was going,” you explained, waving your phone in your hand for context.

“Ah, cell phone. The curse of the twenty-first century.”

You furrowed your brow involuntarily for a moment. He wasn't how you expected the spouse of a Roy to be like. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, you weren't yet sure.

“I’m making a huge ass of myself, aren't I?” He sighed. “I’ll leave you to the party–”

“No! It’s okay. Stay,” you heard yourself say. It was Tom’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Okay. You found him attractive. And even despite his eccentric comments, you also found yourself wanting to talk to him more. You were, however, purposely avoiding looking at the wedding ring on his finger.

To Tom, it all seemed too perfect. You, for example. He was being honest when he said he had seen and read some of your work and that he enjoyed it, and he did sometimes watch other networks to get an idea of the competition, but he had left out the fact that there was something about you in particular that made him watch the entire segment when you happened to be on air. And the fact that sometimes he'd scroll through your articles online and imagine you reading them aloud to him. But he wasn’t a stalker. And now you were here, in his house, on the night that his wife had all but shoved him into the bed of anyone that he wanted.

But still; one pleasant, slightly flirtatious conversation didn't mean you wanted to ride off into the sunset with him. Or, more accurately, go upstairs with him.

He scanned the room for Siobhan. Although it had been her suggestion, and he knew she had acted on the arrangement before, he still felt like it was somehow a trap. Like she’d hire someone to hide behind the bedroom door that night and catch him with his pants down (literally) to use as blackmail.

But sure enough, she was across the room, laughing at something some lobbyist had said, and resting her hand on the other woman’s arm slightly longer than a casual touch would last.

The longer he thought about it, the more confident he felt. If you were interested, he wanted to spend the night with you. And maybe more. But he was getting ahead of himself.

“It's kind of loud over here. Come on,” he gestured with his head toward the opposite corner of the apartment, one not occupied by any guests save for an elderly politician snoring on the couch.

You followed him, nodding when he asked if you wanted another drink before picking a champagne flute off of a passing server’s tray. He handed it to you once you reached the corner, your hands touching during the exchange. It seemed like even more of a cliché to feel sparks fly at this tiny touch, so you ignored that, as well.

“You host these kinds of things often?” You asked, leaning against the wall and taking a sip of your champagne. The room was full of very important people, though none of them seemed to be talking about very important things. You couldn't quite wrap your head around why a high-level executive who had married into one of the largest media conglomerates was wasting his time talking to you (flirting with you?), but you had seen stranger things in this city.

He grimaced and shook his head. “No, no. I’m usually just a guest.” Tom laughed and took a sip of his drink. “And not a very important one, at that.”

“I’m sure that's not true. I mean, how many people watch ATN? And you’re in charge of what airs or doesn't air.”

“1.89 million,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink, “Outside of the office, nobody’s really worried about what I think.”

“Not even your wife?” You stopped after you said the words, giving your brain a second to catch up with your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean any disrespect, I–”

“No, no, no, no, it’s okay,” he assured you, reaching out to rest a hand on yours consolingly. Tom leaned in closer so only you would hear him, unnecessary considering the secluded corner you two were in.

“But no, not even my wife.”

Your eyes darted to his hand atop yours, suddenly aware of how large his hands were. They almost completely covered yours, and they felt so comfortable and right there, like–

“We have an open marriage,” he suddenly said.

“Oh.”

Tom seemed disappointed with this reaction, quickly removing his hand from yours and adding, “That’s just to say that, our marriage is, uh, unconventional, so her not caring what I have to say isn’t that unusual.”

You were still processing the feel of his hand on yours, much less the revelation that he actually might be flirting with you and that it actually might go somewhere. By the time your thoughts caught up with you, it seemed like he was about ready to excuse himself and go scream at his reflection in the bathroom.

“Well, I’m sorry about that,” you responded, mirroring his gesture from before and resting your hand on top of his to comfort him. “You don’t deserve that, really.”

He scoffed. “You don't know what I deserve.”

You looked up at him, taking the time to absorb the look in his eyes that revealed just how much he was going through.

“Uh, Tom?”

Tom rolled his eyes and turned away from you to snap at the source of the interruption. “What, Greg? Can’t you see I’m having a conversation?”

“It’s just–well, Shiv is leaving with someone.” The taller man gestured at the door, where sure enough, Shiv was weaving her way through the crowd toward the elevators with the lobbyist from earlier, her hand guiding her by the small of her back.

Tom bit the inside of his cheek. “Well, Greg, we do have an open marriage. So, everything’s fine. Now, scram.”

Greg looked between the two of you and hesitated for a second before nodding and disappearing back into the bustle of the party.

Tom turned back to you. “That’s Shiv’s cousin, Greg. I’ve sort of taken him under my corporate wing, so to speak. Showing him the ropes and all that.”

You nodded, finishing your champagne.

“Well,” he said.

“Well,” you echoed.

He paused for a minute, though it seemed to last much longer than that. “You’re writing an article about this party, right?”

“Yeah,” you responded, unsure of where he was going with this.

Tom leaned in, lowering his voice. “What would your editor say if you got a behind-the-scenes look at the party?”

You raised your eyebrow.

“Of course, you'd have to come upstairs…” Something shifted in his tone. You were well aware of what the change implied, and you’d be lying if you said you didn't want to jump at the offer. This wasn’t you, though. Sleeping with a married man? On top of that, not just any married man, but the host of the party that you were covering for work. It sounded like a problem you’d encounter on an Intro to Ethics exam. But any moral qualms you had about the issue were pushed out of your head when you registered the way Tom was looking at you.

“Of course,” you repeated, nonchalantly, setting your empty champagne glass on a nearby table.

Something flickered in Tom’s eyes. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way, Wambsgans,” you replied, gesturing dramatically.

Neither of you spoke for the entire walk away from the excitement of the party to the quiet of Tom’s bedroom. It looked much like you had expected it to look: modern, chic, and impersonal. You were sure Tom (or Shiv) had some personal items somewhere in the house, but the bedroom was so clean and styled that the only indication anyone slept or dressed in there was some of Shiv’s makeup and jewelry strewn haphazardly on the vanity.

When he had closed the door behind you, Tom stepped closer to you experimentally, as if he was afraid you'd flee like a wild deer if he moved too fast. You stepped closer as well, which seemed to give Tom the permission he was looking for. Within seconds, his mouth was on yours, his hands cupping your face, all tongue and teeth. There was hunger and desperation in the kiss, but it was hypnotizing, beckoning you deeper and deeper. He was almost doubled over to reach you (god, he was tall), so you shifted your weight to stand on your tiptoes.

Tom broke the kiss, leaving you with a confused look on your face.

He shed his suit jacket, throwing it carelessly on the floor. Next, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. Tugging on the length of his tie, he loosened it enough to undo a few buttons at his collar, revealing an inviting expanse of chest hair.

“Turn around,” he told you, snapping you out of your male-stripper-fantasy gaze.

You did as he said, something in his tone going straight to your core. You felt him run his hands from your shoulders down your arms, then down your hips and up to your waist, the action bunching up the fabric of your dress. He moved your hair to the side, pressing hot kisses to your neck that made your eyes roll back.

“Can I take this off?” He whispered, his lips trailing up to your ear.

You nodded in response, trembling momentarily under his touch. Tom unzipped your dress, helping you push it down your body and step out of it. He unhooked the back of your bra without moving further. It occurred to you then how wrong this was, to be sleeping with someone else’s husband in their own bedroom, but to your surprise, you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was the heat of Tom’s gaze on your bare back. You took your bra off the rest of the way and discarded it on the ground next to your dress. Once in only your underwear, you turned back around to face him, watching his eyes follow every curve of your body to drink in the newly exposed skin.

“Wow,” he said, simply, reaching out to grab you by the hips and pull you closer to him. “You’re gorgeous.”

Grinning, you stood on your tiptoes to kiss him again, cradling his face in your hands. You felt him smile back into your kiss. Before you knew it, he had you pressed against the wall, totally enclosed by his larger form. He went from kissing you on your lips to your neck to behind your ear to your chest, as if he couldn't decide which spot deserved the most attention or for how long.

One of his hands slid down to the waistband of your underwear, the cold metal of his wedding ring a shock against your hot skin. You made eye contact with him as his hand slipped between the fabric and your skin cup your cunt, whining when you felt his touch. He seemed to get off on that, capturing you in a kiss again at the same time he slipped a digit into your wet heat. You were too hot; you pressed your hand to his chest to stabilize yourself and pushed your underwear down your legs and kicked them off. Tom smiled at this, getting right back to pumping his finger in and out at a pace that almost made you melt down the wall.

It was probably a power trip thing, you thought, you totally naked and him almost fully clothed. You didn't mind because it was kinda hot, but it wasn't what you had expected from Tom based on the unassuming, Midwestern image of him that was circulated in columns and by the Roys themselves. But, then again, you hadn't expected to find yourself in this position at all when you left your apartment earlier that night.

The pace of his fingers felt so good, so intoxicating, that now that you had him, you needed more of him.

“A-another one,” you whined between kisses.

When you opened your eyes to look at him, Tom had a smug look on his face. Sure, it was arrogant, but it turned you on, so who really cared? “Yeah?” he asked, “You want another one?”

“Tom,” you hissed, gripping onto his shoulder as his finger curled in just the right way that it made your legs go numb.

The look remained on his face, but he added another finger nonetheless. Tom appeared to inhabit both extremes when it came to sex: he really wanted to pleasure you but he also really wanted to do what he wanted. Luckily, those two wants aligned.

He was making you feel so good that you needed to have more of him. Your kisses got sloppier, each so desperate to be further molded with one another that your tongues tried to push impossibly further into the other’s. Tom shifted his hand so he could angle his thumb to rub slow, tantalizing circles on your clit as he continued to pump his fingers. Your grip on his shoulder tightened–you feared your fingernails would leave dents in his skin–but like so many other things tonight, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You could feel the pressure rising in your middle, your cunt clenching around his fingers in anticipation of your impending orgasm, but then it stopped.

You opened your eyes that you hadn't realized were squeezed shut to look at Tom, who had his hand in front of your face, fingers glistening with your slick. “Open,” he encouraged. You obeyed, accepting his fingers into your mouth and licking them clean with a ‘pop.’ He stared at you like you had hung the stars in the sky. He jerked his head toward the bed. “Sit.”

There was authority in his commands, but you didn’t fear him; from the short amount of time you had spent with him, you knew he was at his core a sweet man. You would admit to yourself that you had been curious how his awkward, nervous energy would translate into the bedroom, but once alone, he seemed to be a different man.

You watched him strip off the rest of his clothes eagerly, smiling up at him once he rejoined you on the bed totally naked. He must’ve noticed you staring, because he asked: “Do you want me to put on a condom?”

You shrugged, shifting your eyes back up to his own. “No, it’s okay. I'm on birth control.”

He sighed in relief. “Good. I don't even know if I have one in here.”

“Then why’d you ask?” You laughed, encouraged by the smile that crossed his face when you did so.

“Seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do. If you said yes, I would’ve sent someone to go get one or borrowed one from–”

“Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“Just fuck me already.”

“Alright. If you say so,” he teased, leaning down over you to kiss you. Both your lips were red and puffy from all the kissing and some biting, but it didn’t matter. You could feel his cock pushing against your stomach from the angle, so you reached down to take him in your hand and pump his length.

“Fuck,” he murmured against your skin, face buried in your neck as he pressed kisses to the every inch of available flesh, “Fuck…Can I?”

“Please,” you responded, noticing a little desperate hitch in your voice that you ignored. Tom licked his hand and cupped your sex with it, running the pads of his middle fingers through your folds a few times to collect the wetness between your legs. Gently, he guided his length into your opening

inch by inch, watching your face for any sign of discomfort before bottoming out.

You should’ve expected his dick to be big from his height, the size of his hands, his nose, whatever, but you hadn’t considered just how big. It was quite a stretch to take him fully, but he gave you all the time you needed to adjust and get comfortable. When you were ready, you bucked your hips up into his to give him the okay.

Tom took your permission to move and ran with it, grabbing your left leg and placing it over his shoulder before pressing you down further into the mattress with his body weight so he could thrust into you at a deeper angle.

You lifted your head to meet him to return to making out, the sensation of his tongue down your throat even more erotic now that he was inside of you, as well.

His thrusts were deep but not as aggressive as he had been with his fingers. He wouldn’t vocalize this, or even admit to himself that he was thinking this, but he wanted this to last. As much as it was supposed to be a hookup–emotionless sex–he found himself wanting it to happen again, despite his attempts to push those thoughts deep into the recesses of his mind.

One arm was thrown around Tom’s neck, hand gripping a fistful of his hair. Your other hand went down to your clit, beginning to rub circles to match the pace of his thrusts.

“You wanna cum again?” He teased, “Again, when I haven't cum once?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, playfully, slipping your finger down from your clit to lightly stroke the length of his cock that wasn't fully inside of you.

He let out a moan, eyes twinkling as he snapped his hips a little harder, snickering when you gasped in response.

Tom caught you in another kiss, resting his weight on his forearm that was positioned next to your head. You arched your back up into him, urging him deeper, which he obliged. “Touch yourself,” he said, disconnecting his mouth from yours just long enough to give the command.

You smiled into his lips, rubbing your clit again as his thrusts became sloppier and jerkier. He was holding on until you came again, despite his earlier cockiness. The moment he felt your walls tighten around him, he let go, spilling inside of you with a grunt.

He pulled out, rolling off of you to lay beside you.

Tom was still catching his breath, and you watched his chest heave for a few moments. “Hey, you okay?” He asked. “Everything alright?”

You smiled, nodding and reaching over to kiss him again. “I'm good, yeah. You?”

“Perfect, actually.” Tom smiled back at you. He found himself lost in the moment, lost in your eyes, lost in the connection you two had just had, and it was too much for him. Quickly, he sat up, ready to change the subject. “You need to clean up?”

You furrowed your brow at the sudden shift in his demeanor, but going along with it nonetheless. Despite him just having been inside you, you didn't feel like it was your place to mention the change. “Yeah. Can I?” You asked, gesturing vaguely toward the bathroom.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah. Go ahead. Towels are above the sink.”

You flung your legs over the side of the bed and stood, heading toward the bathroom. “I’ll just clean off real quick, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“No, no, no. I mean, you can stay the night. If you’d like, that is. I could call you a car, though, if I’ve made some awful faux pas and you don’t want to look at me for another–”

“Tom.” He focused on you again after his brief spiral. “I would like to stay.”

He grinned. “Great, that's great.”

“Just let me–” You waved your hands around your lower body, “–clean all this up.”

“Yeah, of course, sure. I’ll be here.” He added the last part in a quasi-sing-song voice.

At the sound of the shower turning on, Tom rose to locate his clothes and try to clean up. He pulled his boxers back on, taking his dress shirt, pants, & jacket to be thrown into the hamper. They really should be dry-cleaned, he considered, but found that he couldn’t be bothered. As for your clothes, he wasn’t sure what exactly to do with them, so he laid your dress across a chair in the bedroom and left your bra and underwear on the floor. He was still considering whether he should pick them up or not when you came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your torso.

Once you had dressed in your undergarments again and Tom had given you an undershirt to sleep in, you started to wonder what all this meant. If it had just been a hookup, why were you staying the night? You had thought you’d feel dirty and disgusted with yourself, spending the night in someone else’s bed with someone else’s husband, but you didn’t. You didn’t know what that said about you, what it meant that you were perfectly comfortable talking into the night with Tom, both laughing and sharing stories long after you had agreed to turn the lights off and get some sleep. That almost made it worse, you thought, that it wasn’t just sex. That made it dangerous.

After you had drifted off, Tom spent a few minutes watching you sleep. He tucked a stray hair behind your ear, watching the worries of the day wash off your face while you slept. He knew it was wrong to be more comfortable in this bed with you than he was with his own wife. But that was something to deal with (or repress) in the morning. Here, now, with you wrapped in his and Shiv’s bedsheets, your form against his chest rising and falling with his breaths, he could pretend it was meant to be like this.

@swiftcession @greenwrldsz @zirrocom @lukas-matsson @ledtassoo @bluecruz97 @rita-lean @grainyimag3

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hey bbg how u doing 🗣️ ik ur reqs arent open but i feel like if i wait for too long ill forget omg 😭, this req is KINDA self indulgent, lifes been crazy lately to say the least

i was thinking abt a fic with our (technically my) hubby peter q when reader has a nightmare, maybe abt something from their past b4 becoming a guardian ! i feel like peter would be so sweet gurgrhrgrh, trying to calm reader down, shushing them, etc 🙏

just a lil ideaaa, hope youve been having a good february! have a great week/end :-)

-🪐

bbg!!! hii hi! did do this even though they’re closed bc it’s a cute idea and ive missed writing quill! hope you’re doing better now, sending love. thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

DISRUPTED.

peter quill x gn reader

word count. 471

warnings. none? no details pertaining nightmares, just fluff & comfort

Quill is someone you often use as a source of support, his naturally comforting personality acting like a magnet for you and those around him. 

You would subconsciously seek him out for refuge during those moments when it all felt like too much, and sometimes, you didn't even realise just how much you gravitated towards him.

Even with sleep, he was still someone you relied on - just knowing he was there, laid next to you, was usually enough to steady your mind. 

But sometimes, the feel of his body beside you wasn't enough to keep you asleep. You'd often jitter and jolt and toss during your nights of slumber, past memories coming back to haunt you in the form of nightmares - all of it keeping you from resting peacefully. 

They were manageable for a while until very recently, when you'd essentially thrash yourself awake. Peter, your boyfriend, would be awake before you - the movement of you beside him coaxing himself out of sleep. 

But tonight was the worst one you've had for a while. It felt like you were stuck in your nightmare and unable to wake up - the feel of it all too heavy and daunting. 

Unbeknownst to you, Quill was trying to help, sat beside you, calling your name and gently shaking your arm, trying to force you awake. Your head jolts abruptly, and you finally wake - fear all over your face as you pat the bed to find Peter.

He calls your name once more, his voice soft and soothing - trying to help you locate him. "It's okay," he coos, adjusting to lay back down beside you, facing you. “It’s okay, honey.”

"It was horrible," you mumble tearfully, shaking your head. "It..."

"It seemed horrible," he comforts, bringing his hand to rest on the side of your face, palm large and warm as he thumbs over your cheek. "Was it the same one?" 

You hum softly, closing your eyes from the warm touch of your lover. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks faintly.

You shake your head 'no'.

He hums quietly, understanding you.

He scooches in closer and slips his arm under your head, propping you up so he can pull you into him. You curl into his side, head resting on his bicep - burying your face into his chest like you were hiding, using him as protection almost.

He wraps his other arm over you, bringing you closer so he's cradling you - like he's trying to keep you safe. 

"I'll stay up. I'll keep you safe, you get some sleep," Peter murmurs, pressing a kiss into your forehead as he grips you tighter.

The comforting smell of his chest and the warm touch of his hands slowly eases you back into sleep - the steady circles Quill drew on your back act as a distraction from your mind, swarmed within a blanket of security.

[biblicallyaccuratecrow]

it’s 3am I woke up from a nightmare time to post abt my isat fanfic

really this is just notes abt chapter 1 of ouroboros (a not-quite postmortem if you will)

[spoilers for isat and twohats below the cut]

So if you couldn’t tell/didn’t know this fic actually takes place in the version of twohats where you lose the battle against loop! I’ve always kind of liked this version better? I think the emotional impact of loop deciding, even after having siffrin’s life literally within their grasp, that they don’t want to kill them hits so much harder for me. Also, feels a bit more realistic in the context of this fic as a sick/recovery fic. Siffrin definitely did NOT have enough energy to take on a fully-charged and pissed off Loop in their condition.

I’ll probably make a larger post about siffrins physical condition in this fic later, but in the case of chapter 1 there’s a few fun things to note. One is that siffrin’s handle on pain is kinda fucked! “Not as bad as it could have been” is pretty literal in this case. I think they’re simultaneously very desensitized to recognizing and acknowledging their pain but also prone to being acutely aware of it when it’s in tandem with their shitty mental state. When they’re Being Normal it kind of fades into the background buzz, but when they’re spiraling and can feel how close they are to falling apart I imagine it’s a lot more overwhelming and obvious.

the stars and ocean connection to the forgotten island has been pointed out before but I’m being a little more heavy handed with this fic bc. In my mind the reverence for the stars goes hand in hand with the idea of an island where the ocean has a major impact on the daily life??? The idea of stars being used to guide sailors comes to mind, but also the idea of vastness, reflections, and a “void” feeling also feel right. A lot of naval navigation tools have a lot to do with physics, astronomy, and atmospheric stuff, and given the island’s technological and scientific method of displaying the universe I don’t think it’s too far fetched to extend that to the ocean as well!

CARRYING SIFFRIN. BRIDAL STYLE. Isabeau is so fun to write????? I don’t think I expected to enjoy his chapter as much as I did. Reaaaaly leaning into Freaksabeau energy but also. I think a lot about how Isa feels has such a strong protective and comforting personality? Throughout the game it’s expressed a lot, but the fact that it comes out of his deep childhood insecurities makes it feel all the more painful… not to mention that siffrin targeted these insecurities pretty harshly! Even if Isa forgives him, I imagine that it’s very hard for him not to internalize it. He’s a coward, and he knows it, but having someone acknowledge that and show how it can hurt others and himself is an entirely different beast. Hence why Isa ruminates a lot over it during his section.

Odile is THE #1 isafrin shipper. She’s also homophobic/j

Bonnie. Boniface. Bon Bon. My heart and soul. Writing them is so fun. I know a lot of people (me included) have trouble with them, bc writing kids can be hard. Still, I have such a deep respect for their characterization that I really spent a lot of time making sure they felt right. In this case, it was acknowledging that they are!!! NOSY!!! Like many kids are!!! But not maliciously, just out of worry and curiosity! They’re not dumb either! They know that siffrin’s whole situation is fucked- maybe not the fullest extent of understanding, yes, but they seem to grasp the seriousness, even if it is through the forever school metaphor. It was also kinda important for me to show that they take their role in the party as Tonic Carryer and Chef Cooker VERY SERIOUSLY. Odile complimenting them on their foresight is feels all the more genuine that way.

I think by now we all kinda realize that. The idea of camping out in the clock tower. Where siffrin spent countless sleepless nights mulling over their sins. While maybe marginally better than being forced to stay in the house, is…. An oversight, to say the least. See chapter 5 for more context on that. It’s better, yeah but only by proxy of not having hundreds of deaths associated with it.

I’m also gonna be focusing a lot on the inter-party dynamics outside of siffrin in this fic! Because!!! The friendships of the others mean a lot to me!!! Odile and Isabeau’s friendship comes up the most in this chapter; I think Odile has a bit of an inkling about Isabeau being a bit smarter than he lets on, and even if she spends a larger portion of their interactions in game teasing him for his crush, I also think that they have a pretty close bond for Odile to feel comfortable being the one that isabeau goes to about his feelings. So I thinks he has a better read on him as a whole, and does her best to keep him from spiraling.

Bonnie and Isa also come to mind- they aren’t talked about nearly as much as I think they should be???? Like, Bonnie sees Isa as a younger sibling (which. Stares in Middle-Child Isa Enjoyer), and Isa is the other person who uses Bon Bon, which is a pretty important nickname in the context of Bonnie’s character??? They have less interactions than the rest of the party but I like to think that Isa humors Bonnie a lot and also sees them like a younger sibling which makes their whole teasing and nagging dynamic all the more realistic to me!

ah, the Favor Tree Void Space. My sweet beloved. My magnum opus of imagery in this fic. In my mind, this represents Siffrin’s subconscious connection to The Universe and wishcraft, even after the loops. Favor Trees are obviously something culturally important for The Universe (given that the wishes it grants are so powerful and that the book detailing all wishcraft rituals has a favor tree on the cover), so I thought that it would be fitting to place it here. It’s simultaneously part of siffrin’s trauma from the loops, but also a safe space, a haven offered by Loop where they can simply just. Be. At least for a little while, anyways. Also drew back to the ocean/sky imagery with the ground having some kind of water qualities.

writing about the stars, I emphasize the idea of their??? Aliveness very often. As facets of the universe, thousands of granted and ungranted wishes, an audience and plot device in one. I can’t say much on them in this chapter, mainly bc I go a little more into it chapter 3 and onwards, but keep in mind the idea of music and the chorus of a theatre production, as well as a captive audience. That’s kinda the vibes.

anyhoo- I’m tired again. Gonna try and sleep a bit more before work! toodles!

[bubblegump-1-nk]

Can’t Catch Me Now

Matthew Riddle x Fem!Reader

summary: Mattheo’s father sent him on a mission: make you fall in love with him, then lure you into a death trap. He should’ve known you wouldn’t let him forget you that easily…

Disclaimer: mentions of death, toxic relationships, cursing, slight mentions of torture

Song: Can’t Catch Me Now by Olivia Rodrigo

- First time writing for Mattheo! Wanted to do another fic abt my baby Theo but this idea came to me and couldn’t bring myself to write something so toxic about him 😭. Also there’s a lot of time skips in this so I hope it’s easy to follow!

“I love you.” You said sweetly.

“Me too, see you tonight.” Mattheo responded.

You kissed him on the cheek and entered the Transfiguration classroom as Mattheo left to go to Divinations. Tonight… if only you knew what was in store for you. Time past forward quickly, and now Mattheo was knocking on your dorm door, and you walked out, ready for your date.

“You look beautiful” He said

“Thank you. You don’t look to drab yourself.” You said, causing him to chuckle before taking your hand and leading you out of the castle.

You two had been walking for ages, getting farther and farther away from Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. Not a soul in sight.

“Ok seriously, where are we going Matty? We’ve been walking for years.” You say, dragging out the last word.

“Soon. We’ll be there soon.” He said, tensing up as he did.

You were now at a location, heavily secluded from everyone and everything. You joked that no one would hear you scream out here. Only you had meant it in a different way than what was actually held in store for you. That’s when they appeared, the Death Eaters. You looked at Mattheo in shock, but he was already tearing his hand away from yours and stepping back, taking his wand out.

“Mattheo?” You whispered, tears in your eyes. A look of horror on your face. No wand in hand.

You screamed when the Crucio hit your chest, soon followed by a spell that left you unconscious on the floor.

***

You had been sitting in the chair for hours. You hands and legs tied back. About 5 Death Eaters were in the room, Mattheo making up the 6. He never hit you with a spell, but he never blocked one either. Just stood there, watching, his face wiped clear of any emotions. As you were focused on him, you made eye contact with him for the first time since being in the room. The spells had stopped for about 20 seconds now. Was it finally over? Were you free to go? That’s when it hit you. The green light. You fell unconscious, never to be seen again.

“Mattheo wake up! We’re here.” Said Theo (😍), having been shaking Mattheo vigorously for about 3 minutes.

“What?” He asked, still shaken from the dream he just had. He’s been having it for weeks now. Ever since the incident. Your death has followed him even into his unconscious mind. He can’t escape you.

“We’ve arrived at Hogwarts you idiot.” Said Draco, exasperated at Mattheo’s constant zoning out.

All the boys knew about the mission, they all knew what happened in the late days of May. They were all at the meeting after your death, Voldemort congratulated all of them - which is something you don’t simply forget. Y/n’s father was a powerful wizard, who declined all of the Dark Lord’s advancements of recruitment. So, Voldemort decided he might just need a little push, that being the death of his beloved daughter Y/n. It didn’t work, of course, and instead your father and mother ended up fleeing to some desolate place.

“Git.” Mattheo said, before slapping Draco across the head and collecting his belongings to get off the train.

Draco lifted his arm as to hit Mattheo back but Blaise grabbed his arm and gave him a look that made Draco forget about hitting him. They all knew Mattheo never actually loved you, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was still responsible for killing someone. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s turning out just like his father.

———

They soon entered Hogwarts and took their seats at the Slytherin table.

“What’s taking the first years so long?” Theo asked, wondering why the sorting ceremony hadn’t started yet.

“Beats me but I’m fucking starving.” Said Blaise.

Mattheo was about to speak but was cut off by Dumbledore, who now stood in front of the podium.

“Welcome all back to Hogwarts. Now, I’m aware that you must all be very hungry, but this is a statement I must make, and we’ve decided it’s better made without the first years present.” He paused for a moment, adjusted his glasses, and continued. “As I’m sure you all sadly know, one of your classmates has died this pass summer.” A complete hush fell over the Great Hall, everybody knew about what happened to you. What happened to your family. Except, no one knew who or what caused it. Your death and your parents ‘disappearance’ was all a mystery to everyone except for the 4 Slytherin boys sitting at the middle of the table in far right.

“Y/n L/n was a strong witch, who was kind to all who…..”

Mattheo began to zone out, not wanting to be reminded of you more than he already was. It all started about 2 weeks after your murder. The first time was when he awoke in the middle of the night, you had infiltrated his dreams again. He went outside for a smoke, when he heard it.

“Mmaatheeooo”

He turned his head swiftly to the left, where the sound came from.

“Mmaatheeooo”

It came again, but this time from behind him. Your voice. It was your voice.

This reoccurred about once a week. Sometimes in the dead of the night, sometimes while eating lunch or reading the Daily Prophet.

———-

Mattheo tried his best to forget about you, to have a good year, but it was hard with you stalking his every move. It had worsened now. He heard you calling his name almost every day, your face appeared in the flames of the fire in the common room for a split second last night. He’s already found three of the letters you wrote him in the past on his desk, letters he was sure he had burned. And the worst part was, he couldn’t tell anyone, couldn’t say anything. He would just appear weak and crazy.

It was now early November, and the days were getting colder. Mattheo found himself walking alone outside, going to retrieve the jumper he left by Hagrid’s hut. As he was nearing the hut he heard a strange sound. Almost like heavy footsteps. He turned around, and looked around swiftly but not a soul was outside. He shook it off and continued walking, except this time the footsteps were louder, and closer. He turned around again but not a person was in sight. He began to walk faster, the footsteps did too. He stopped abruptly, looking around one last time, when he saw them. Footprints, leading all the way up to right by his side. His heart beat faster, and the wind began whistling as it passed through the trees. The world was silent.

“Mattheo” Came a voice right beside him.

Mattheo jumped back, a quiet shriek leaving his throat.

“Mattheo” It came again.

“Get the fuck away from me! Stay the fuck away from me!” He called out. It was silent for a few seconds, Mattheo thinking his warning had worked.

“Catch me.” The voice said. Your voice said.

Mattheo was confused, what did you mean ‘catch me?’ Was that even what you said? Your voice was a breathy whisper, so the words were hard to make out.

“What is wrong with you?” He called out again.

“Can’t. Catch me. Now.” You said, your voice circling around Mattheo.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Mattheo practically screamed this time.

All was quiet, before the footsteps slowly started walking away. It appeared as though you were walking backwards, by the looks of the prints.

Mattheo stood there, shocked, watching as you walked away from him.

Then the footsteps were gone, just as quickly as they had come and the landscape returned to a quiet and peaceful one. The sky was getting darker, and by the looks of it, Mattheo had missed dinner. He slowly began dragging his feet in the direction of the astronomy tower. Once he reached the top, he let out a sigh and pulled out his cigarettes and a lighter.

He’s beginning to think he might just be going crazy.

“Figured you’d be up here.” Says a voice from behind him.

“Yep.” He says, as Theo comes to stand next to him.

“Pass me one.” Theo says, holding his hand out for a cigarette. Mattheo hands him one and Theo lights it.

The smoke in silence, appreciating the view along with the cold air. The smoke from the cigarettes blending with the smoke from their breath.

“She’s everywhere you know.” Mattheo blurts out.

Theo’s silent for a moment, staring out at the sky.

“I know.” He says, finally.

“You do?” Mattheo asks, turning to face Theo. A confused expression painting his face.

“Yeah. I hear her laughter.” Theo explains.

“Her laughter? That’s it?” Mattheo asks, temper rising. How come he has to endure all this pain and Theo gets laughter?

“Yeah, she sort of just laughs lightly every now and again. It used to scare me shitless but now I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Yeah we’ll count yourself fucking lucky. She calls out my name. She fucking followed me today, her footprints were everywhere. Her voice was saying some shit about how I can’t catch her anymore. This shits so fucked up.” He says, growing angrier by each word.

Theo let’s out a laugh.

“You think this is fucking funny, do you?”

“Well, I mean, she’s right. You can’t catch her anymore.”

“Does it look like a give a fuck? Why doesn’t she whisper to you this shit, huh?” Mattheo asks, annoyed.

“Maybe because she never loved me. Maybe because she loved you.”

“Yeah, well, you were just as responsible in her death as I was.”

“Right… but it was you she trusted.” Theo says.

“Alright mate are you on her side or mine?”

“Yours obviously. She’s coming for me too.”

“You know, I miss her, now and then.” Mattheo says, reluctantly after a bout of silence

“Yeah well that’s no good is it? She’s still dead whether you miss her or not.”

“I fucking know that! Don’t you think I fucking know that?!” Mattheo yells, throwing his cigarette at Theo

“Calm down mate. It’s not doing you any good getting worked up about it.”

——-

It’s December now. All the leaves have left their trees and the the weather’s gotten harsh and bitter. Mattheo can’t escape you no matter what he does. You’re here, you’re there, you’re fucking everywhere. He hears your voice when the wind blows, hears your laughter in the rustle of the trees. The other boys all know of Mattheo’s pain. They’ve experience it too, but like Theo, they only experience it now and again. It seems they’re not your priority on your haunting list.

Mattheo’s laying in his bed, trying to find sleep. You haven’t let him sleep properly since about 3 weeks ago. As he turns to the side, he sees the curtains around his four poster shifting, getting moved to the side. He intakes a sharp breath. The curtains fully open now, and he’s met with a cold wind.

“Won’t you just leave me the fuck alone?” He whisper-shouts.

He’s met with no answer. The room is now completely silent, and before long 10 minutes have past. Was that really all you came to do? Move his curtain? Whatever it was, he’s thankful for your departure because now he’s really feeling the exhaustion kick in. His eyes begin to shut and his body relaxes as it melts into his mattress. Just as he feels like he’s about to get the sleep he’s so desperately been needing…

“See you tomorrow” You whisper, right into his ear, mocking the words he had said to you the night of your murder.

———-

Sorry if the ending sucks, this idea came to me late one night so I began to write but I didn’t really think it out before I started 😭 I didn’t want to have this in my to-do list for forever so I’m really sorry if this feels rushed! I hope you guys enjoy it anyway

[hrts4hanniehae]

Take a Chance with Me || fourteen

*mostly written parts

remember to comment and reblog

it was quite obvious that yn and seungcheol would be invited to numerous interviews. and of course, they went to most of them.

"so who liked who first?"

"we first met when we were trainees because yn's younger brother and childhood friend were friends with our maknae, Dino. yn was a trainee under a different company and... was his name Jae? I'm sorry but my memory of him is very fuzzy. I believe Jae was a trainee with us until he dropped out due to health issues."

"so we knew each other from the start of our trainee days and I debuted the same year as them, so we were quite close, I would say. But I think I fell first."

"no, i definitely did."

the interviewer sat up in her seat. "really? why is that so?"

seungcheol grasped yn's hand. "it was in 2014 when we were meeting up together with the other 95 liners in Seventeen. yn was wearing this winter coat that made her so pretty. I fell instantly. you can ask jeonghan, he'd be more than happy to embarrass me."

this was news to yn, who couldn't help but smile. "so you did fall first."

"so when did you fall for him, yn-sshi."

"when i first saw him perform during one of his dance practices. his presence was so strong and i don't know... he was so attractive."

seungcheol flushed red.

yn was at svt's dorm, celebrating her rekindled relationship with seungcheol.

"finally you both are together again. after 3 long years."

"thanks to hoshi actually. he sped the process up by a lot."

"noona, we should do a weverse live right now."

"yea, we should."

their weverse live hit record-high views. the app almost crashed. everyone was so curious to see domestic, drunk yncheol.

"hi guys. yn is super drunk and is having a mini concert with hoshi." - mingyu

"they've sung "just do it" 15 times. someone please stop them." - scoups

"wait they're singing yn's album songs now." - joshua

"oh my god i don't want to hear a drunk version of Oceans and Engines..." - jun

"stop hoshi before he ruins Take a Chance with Me" - minghao

"no wait i want to hear this." - jeonghan

"now hoshi is crying..." - wonwoo

"jihoon-ahhhhhhhhh" - hoshi

"no hoshi..." - woozi

"why is yn still singing... now she's crying... scoups!" - seungkwan

"on it." - scoups

"i'm so sorry for this me-"

"HORANGHAE." - hoshi

"..." - svt

"mianhae" - minghao

"everything okay, yn?"

"yea. i finally feel like... i'm home."

he pulled her in for a kiss. "i'm glad you feel this way. maybe now you'll continue writing those good love songs about me?"

she laughed. "we'll see, cheol. but thank you for... taking a chance with me."

now he laughed. "was that supposed to be a joke?"

"no, i meant it. I love you."

"i love you too."

-fin-

a/n THANK YOU FOR FOLLOWING "TAKE A CHANCE WITH ME" AHHHH!!! my first ever smau and kinda long fic. omfg thank you for all the love on this. i'm so so grateful. stay tuned for chpt fifteen, the epilogue. i have something special planned. special thank you to those who always commented/reblogged my posts. yall have a special place in my heart!!!!

note to my taglist: please reblog and comment abt the chpt so i know that you're actually reading my stuff.

summary: 3 years after your breakup with seungcheol, you release an album to cope with your still-broken heart. you didn't expose his name but quickly, your fans and fans of svt begin to connect the dots to the past you wish you could relive. little did you know, the man you loved so desperately would begin to chase you back with the same desperation you so very much desired

inspired by: take a chance with me

pairing: idol!choi seungcheol × fem!idol!reader

genre: past relationship, fluff, angst, best friend!booseoksoon, smau, miscommunication, pining, 2nd chance

warnings: implied self harm/depression, hate comments, updates irregular but will finish because i cried when i thought abt this idea

started: 13.12.23

taglist: fill out the form in my pinned post to be added to the taglist (specify this smau in the pw section)

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tags! @fairyofhour @megseungmin @sun-daddy-yoriichi @woozixo @euphoric-univers @christinewithluv @haowonbins @ocyeanicc @asyre @cynthiaaax13 @superhoshisvt @bangantokchy @chimmy-bts @angelarin @daisawa @writingbarnes @jeonghansshitester

@belladaises @wonwootakemyheart @wonwooz1 @luchiet @atinybitlonely @kookssecret @caratsland @peachescreamandcrumble @thepoopdokyeomtouched @isabellah29 @leah-rose03 @coupskook

[bleue-flora]

tbh to me c!sapnap is on the same level of betraying c!dream as c!sam. It may seem far-fetched considering what c!sam did and considering we don't have much real lore content with c!sapnap or c!dreamnap, but when you look at what we DO have, it's kind of a picture

like, he's not just some stupid or short-sighted character, as it might seem at first glance - we have a ton of evidence that he understands perfectly well that prison makes c!dream physically and mentally ill, but he agrees with it. In the dialogue with c!michael he literally says "dream fucked up, prison fucked him up in another sense, but it doesn't matter, cause dream has to get better and become *my* dream again, let him stay in prison and improve, even if it breaks him idc", like wtf is this? funny, but at the same time, c!sapnap doesn't visit dream more than once, how will he know that c!dream is making progress? In c!sapnap's head, prison is supposed to be a rehabilitation for c!dream, only no one checks his progress in stopping being a "fucked up", he either sits there completely alone or people go there to hurt him and c!sapnap understands and acknowledged it, but he doesn't give a shit. I'm sorry, but this gives off sam's "I thought I broke his will to do something like that". He obviously doesn't care about c!dream and just wants his good old *convenient* friend, and he doesn't care about the consequences.

But he's not just passively harming c!dream, he's doing it actively. If the threat could still be interpreted as an emotional outburst, something he could say and regret, then his other actions clearly say the opposite. Like, the dude literally stalked and harassed c!dream for months after he found out where he lived??

The revival book was more important to him than torture. Even in the beginning, he didn't care about c!dream's reputation, when c!wilbur and c!tommy dragged it into the dirt for no reason, and he repeatedly went against c!dream or supported things that directly harmed c!dream. For me, one of the most telling scenes is c!sapnap and c!george's meeting with mexican dream's ghost, where c!sapnap, without any reason, pins the explosion of El Rapids on c!dream, and then, when he finds out that actually c!quackity was the one who did it, c!sapnap immediately says that they urgently need to go and find out why he did it, to check if he's okay and all that. This is literally the attitude you'd expect from c!tommy, to attribute every bad event to c!dream, but no, this is his so-called best friend! And of course, he only wants to know the reasons for an action when someone else does a bad action, but not c!dream - well, of course, cause it's clear that c!dream reasons are "being evil" or smth.

So, I've been in my c!sapnap hate arc for over two years now and you all should join me lmao

I didn't think I'd write SO much, but emotions took over after reading the new chapter of your fic and some of your posts, sorry abt that :"^

[context a & b]

Honestly, in my opinion his betrayal is almost worse than Sam’s, which is saying something since he literally enabled and facilitated daily torture. But like Sam wasn’t Dream’s self proclaimed brother, and at least Sam’s delusion kinda makes sense. Sapnap is just like - the chicken tastes rubbery and overcooked, so I put it in the oven and then it tasted burnt, so I put it back in the oven to help the taste and at some point I’ll take it out of the oven and then it’ll taste good again. No idea how long that’ll take, and no don’t be ridiculous I’m not gonna check on it. I swear though if anyone touches my chicken before it tastes good again like so much as removes it from the oven or seasons it I’m gonna throw it in the trash… vs Sam who’s like - the chicken tastes rubbery but I spent money on it so I’m gonna put it in the oven and turn it to charcoal so at least then it won’t be a complete waste…

ya know? Like at least Sam was corrupted by power, financial benefit, manipulated a bit, and had the blood of a “child” on his hands. Sapnap doesn’t even have that, he has a life long best friend who he heard made a speech about not caring about anything and then later a speech about wanting to control everyone, a fish in a item frame and a letter saying “thanks for visiting”…

Well I don’t know about the “even if it breaks him” I don’t think he is thinking that directing about Dream’s suffering if that makes sense, but Sapnap is delusional no doubt. I also don’t know if he even cares that much about the book in general, he just doesn’t seem to given a damn about the torture. He seems to really just be about the fear of what Dream might do and how he needs to be stopped before that.

And you do have a point, in the beginning even as his “brother” he on many occasions went against him, down to the very first disc war where they killed him multiple times. I mean if Sapnap weren’t American, he’d have probably been right alongside clingy duo in L’manberg and stuff… oh I had no idea about the El Rapids thing but am also not surprised…

What do you even mean, I am literally an engineer of this Sapnap hate train 🚂 choo choo! I be shoveling coal to keep this engine running ya know. like literally the more lore I watch the more he actually just kills me.

but anyways, I mean you read the chapter (and presumably the one before) so you know my thoughts on Sapnap lol. ;D