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minarisplaything · 9 months

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Gala Gal ft. Blackpink Rosé

pairing: Rosé x male reader rating: Explicit wordcount: 2.8k prompt: a young journalist gets a chance of a lifetime with Rosé at a recent event.

Being a writer for a celebrity magazine has its advantages, such as getting to attend grand events like the Cannes Film Festival, or in this case, the MET Gala. Now you might think, where's the fun or excitement in that? A bunch of rich people dressed in overpriced clothing and posing on the red carpet while you have to ask them redundant questions that no one truly cares about outside a small niche of fans.

That is a reasonable question to ask, and a fair point to make. Hell, there are times when you wonder to yourself just how legitimate of a job this is. You certainly hear that question from your parents enough. But the answer to all of those questions comes from the woman currently walking towards you.

"Thank you for your time," you say to the current girl in front of you.

You have been interviewing some girl who is apparently 'the next Olivia Rodrigo,' which is a wild title to have, but you digress. As you bid her good-bye, a sudden chorus of "Rosé! Rosé over here!" erupts from the group of photographers, followed by a series of flashing light bulbs.

Your eyes flick over to the red carpet area near you to see none other than the 26-year-old starlet, Roseanne Park. Otherwise known as Rosé from Blackpink.

You have never crossed paths with her at any events you have covered; which you just toss up to bad luck or god punishing you for some crime you can’t remember. Either way, it seems like you will finally be getting your chance. Judging from this distance, she is just as beautiful as she appears in all her photos.

Her blonde hair is flowing down her back while loose bangs frame her face as she smiles for the camera. She is wearing a black dress that is form-fitting at the top, held together by two thin straps, and flares outwards at the waist. Frankly, she looks stunning. It is a classy dress that still manages to spark arousal in you. Though, you will keep that last part to yourself.

It is only a few moments later that you have to compose yourself as the press woman directs Rosé towards your vicinity. Adjusting your stance, and growing erection, you cough and put on a friendly smile as she walks over.

"Hi, I'm with Eros Magazine," you introduce yourself, managing to remain composed.

"Rosie, it’s nice to meet you," she says sweetly. She is even more beautiful up close, and that smile is practically paralyzing. Given that you don't trust your tongue at the moment, you decide to keep it simple.

"So how are you tonight?" you question, knowing how many times she must have answered it already.

"I'm great! It's a little cold tonight, but I'm excited to be here," she starts in her accented voice. "I love the Museum of Arts and supporting a good cause is always great. There are so many beautiful dresses and people here. So it's all feeling great right now!" she says, remaining smiling and bubbly throughout her answer.

For your part, you merely nod your head and smile, holding the recorder up to get every word. You go through the litany of typical red carpet questions: what projects are you working on, how's the music coming; all the typical things you could hand in to your editor when a story is due. You can see the press woman getting antsy though. Typical. Figuring you only have one or two questions left, you decide to venture out a bit.

"So, you're going to be going on tour again soon, that must be exciting..."

"It is! You're actually the first one to bring that up all night," she says, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"I do like to do my homework beforehand," you joke with a grin before continuing, "That being said, how do you manage to have fun and unwind? Even at these events, you have to keep a certain image, right?"

Rosé is quiet at first, and for a moment, she glances around as if to check that the coast is clear before she answers, "Oh, you know the girls and I find out ways to have fun. And this is actually my third year at the Gala, so I’ve found the little tricks and ways to have some fun."

There is something about the way she looks at you as she speaks that screams there is more than meets the eye to her words. Maybe it is the coy tone to her voice or the glint in her eye as she smiles. Whatever it is, you suddenly find yourself wondering exactly what ‘some fun' entails.

"By the way," Rosé says, interrupting your thoughts, "Eros Magazine...as in the Greek word for erotic love?"

Again she fixes you with that mischievous grin.

"Uh — yeah. Nice catch," you stammer, causing her to giggle.

"I like it" she says, a look you can’t read in her eye. Before you can ask anything further, the press woman begins to nudge her on to the next reporter. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too, have a good one," you reply, watching her intently as she walks away.

If that is your first and last interaction with the K-pop star, then you can say it has been interesting if nothing else. You get the feeling there is more to that little minx than meets the eye, you are only disappointed that you’d likely never get the chance to delve a bit further.

Covering the event means that you gain access to the party but hardly anyone does any real reporting. After all, these kinds of events are meant for the rich and famous. To cement their status as celebrities, they then sneak off inside to where they can have their fun. For the most part, you reporters stay together, talk, and drink the free liquor that is available.

You expect your night will be spent at the bar, winding your time down until it reaches an acceptable time to call it a night. But first things first, if you are going to be here on the company dime, you might as well get your money's worth.

"I've been looking for you all night!"

You are in the middle of ordering yet another drink when a familiar accented voice reaches your ears. Turning in your stool, you lay your eyes on Roseanne Park for the second time tonight, only this time there is something a little more...loose to her demeanor. You get an explanation when you spot the glass in her hands and briefly wonder how many she had at this point.

"Me? You must be confused," you say, both amused, curious, and a bit confused, "I don't think anyone at this party has said I’m wanted."

"Well, you are!" she says, smiling as she moves towards you, "And now that I've found you, I have something to show you."

"Don't you have famous friends to entertain?" you question more than protest as she places her drink on the bar and takes your hand.

You catch a glimpse of a hint of a pout on her features, "Don’t worry, they’re occupied." Again, there is that suggestion that something more is going on. Of course, there is the very realistic possibility that your mind is just running away with crazy, erotic theories. But that potential doesn’t stop you from being any more turned on by the thought. Coupled with the fact that Rosé is dragging you through a gala to god-knows-where and you are practically dreaming. In that moment, she could take you to hell for all you care.

"You're going to love it, trust me," she assures, looking back at you as she continues leading.

"Oh, I’m sure," you reply. Your mind is racing with things from a blow job to taking her from behind, so needless to say, you are a bit disappointed when she stops at your destination.

"A photo booth?" you ask, a bit amused at how silly it seems.

Rosé is either undeterred or doesn’t register your lack of enthusiasm as she simply nods, still smiling and pulling you into the booth.

“It's fun! Come on," the blonde insists, pulling you by the hand into the photo booth. Judging by the size of it, the booth is clearly an afterthought to the gala planners, or maybe it just isn’t meant for two people at the same time to occupy it. You do your best to squeeze yourself in so she can close the curtain behind you. To your surprise, Rosé neatly slides onto your lap, her perfect, tight ass sitting right on top of where your hard-on has been growing for the last couple of minutes.

"Alright, so it takes six photos then prints them out there," she points to the deposit box under the screen. She either doesn't feel the bulge pressing firmly against her ass, or she is very good at playing naive.

"Okay," you nod, as if you are bothering to pay any attention to the pictures.

As she shimmies on your lap to get into a better position, you decide to be bold and snake your arm around her slim waist, only to receive no complaints from the pop star. A countdown shows up on the screen, and when it says CHEESE, Rosé throws her arms around you, smiling openly as you try and fail not to look too bewildered. The screen replays your photo, and you can’t help but laugh at your own expense.

"Not bad," you grin, as the counter starts for the second photo.

"Not bad, but I think we can do better!" she says with a determined look on her face. When the screen says CHEESE again, Rosé suddenly leans over and licks the side of your face. You are so surprised you don't know how you react until the photo replays.

"Oh my god! That's great!" Rosé laughs.

You take the next few photos in the same fashion, going for ridiculous and silly in each one. After every photo, Rosé would shift her weight on your lap, rubbing against your erection each time. You are certain that she has to be well aware of what she is doing, and by the time the countdown for the last photo appears, you have made up your mind.

When the screen flashes, you turn Rosé's head to you and push your lips flush against hers. To your surprise, it takes less than half a second for her to respond, her hands moving up to cup your face. You kiss passionately like that until the simple need for air breaks you apart.

"I was starting to think all my work was for nothing," she says, a devilish grin on her face.

You raise an eyebrow at her; apparently, all your theories have just been confirmed. "You planned all this then?"

"I told you we know how to have our fun at these things," she comments, twirling a strand of hair in her finger.

"We?"

Mischief gleams in her gaze for a moment, “Maybe later. I know you’re a reporter, but you shouldn’t ask too many questions.”

She places a delicate finger to your lips as she gets up off your lap. The low ceiling of the booth doesn't allow her to stand up fully, but she doesn't have to as she crouches and reaches under her dress and begins pulling down her panties. "Fuck...these things are definitely ruined. I practically soaked them."

Her comment is more to herself than you, but your cock only grows harder at the revelation. You watch as she slides her thong down past her ankles, and her eyes fall to your crotch. With nimble fingers, she works on your button and zipper, springing free your aching cock.

"Oh wow..." she mutters, eyeing it with an animalistic hunger. "I would love to wrap my lips around that..."

"You're more than welcomed to," you groan, starting to get that sense of teasing with the amount of anticipation that is building. You are tempted to just force her head onto your cock, but you stop short when she speaks.

"Later. We don't have a lot of time."

Your disappointment at that statement is short-lived as she stands again and turns around. Rosé lifts her skirt and hovers over your lap. Grabbing hold of your member, you let out a groan as she positions it at her entrance, rubbing it for a second in her dripping juices. Unable to hold out, you thrust your hips slightly upward, causing your tip to pierce her folds.

"Mmm, somebody's anxious," she purrs, her accent coming out thick.

"Can you fucking blame me?" you say through gritted teeth, reaching out to grab her waist. Before you can yank her down, she beats you to it and spears herself on your rod. "Oh fuck," you let out, feeling how tight her petite body is.

"God, you feel fucking amazing," you mutter into her shoulder.

"Ah~...and you're...much bigger than you look," she says, clearly trying to adjust to the size she just filled herself with in one go. Apparently, the discomfort isn't so bad as she soon begins lifting and dropping herself on your cock slowly. "Try not—ooh— to get too loud," she moans out, her ass rocking against you.

"Speak for yourself," you grunt, your hands gripping her waist firmly as you start to move your hips to match the movement of hers.

You can't wrap your head around the fact that you're fucking a member of one of the most famous girl groups in the world in a photobooth at a gala with hundreds of celebrities. Thankfully, you don't need to wrap your head around it, as long as you keep fucking her. With that in mind, you take control of the pace, gripping her waist and forcing yourself up into her. Each time you spear her pussy, it's like another piece of heaven. Her pussy is squeezing you like there's no tomorrow, only increasing the pleasure you get with each thrust.

"Shit, yes, yes! Fuck me," Rosé chants in a loud whisper as she puts her hand on the console to steady herself as you thrust up into her.

"God, you're fucking tight," you moan, continuing to pound her Australian pussy. "Someone could look in here at any second."

"Oooh, I know," she lets out a shuddering breath.

"You're getting off on that, aren't you?" you continue the dirty talk, sliding a strap off her shoulder so you can push her top down to fondle her pert breast.

"Yes, yes! It fucking turns me on," Rosé pants.

For a moment, you fear she has given you away, but you're too far gone to truly care at this point. Her hands slide down the console, and you're only aware of what happens when the shutter of the camera makes you look up. Looking over Rosé's shoulder as she bounces up and down, you see your photo displayed, Rosé's mouth opened in pleasure.

Grinning to yourself, you increase the speed of your thrusts, determined to get her orgasm face by the last photo.

"OH!" she squeals, surprised by your sudden turn of action. "Oh fuck, right there. Keep going," she pants, her hand covering yours and holding it firmly against her breast.

You squeeze firmly, shoving every inch of your meat deep into her snatch. Her lithe body arches back into you. She's panting heavily, each thrust causing her to take a sharp breath. You turn her head towards you and kiss her, her hand gripping the back of your head. It's sloppy and passionate, perfectly fitting the current heated moment that is occurring.

"I'm close. I'm so fucking close," Rosé chants, continuing to grip your head as she moves her hips to yours.

A few moments later, you have to cover her mouth with your hand as she shrieks her orgasm. Her walls clench around you as she comes, her juices flooding your cock.

"I'm going to cum," you warn, knowing you aren't going to last through her orgasm.

"Mmmph," Rosé says, until you remove your hand, "In me! Cum inside me!"

You don't take a second to question it, instead thrusting your hips upward, your cock pushing into her one last time as you empty rope after rope of your seed into her womb. You continue unloading into the star for what seems like eternity until you both finally collapse in the booth. Her body heaves on top of yours as she tries to catch her breath.

"I don't think I've ever cum that hard before," you pant, causing the Blackpink singer to giggle.

"Don't speak too soon," she says, leaning back and kissing you softly on the lips. Thinking of what she could have planned only causes your cock to twitch inside her with anticipation.

One thing is for certain: this girl certainly knows how to have fun.

BUY ME A COFFEE - if you enjoy my stories considering buying me a coffee! always appreciated, never required.

#kpop smut #blackpink smut #male reader #rose x reader #rose x male reader #park chaeyoung x reader

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beatrixstonehill2 · 3 months

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"Ugh, why oh why did my family have to move down south? This is absolutely out of hand. I mean, I knew it would be bad, and I warned them but they both seemed more than thrilled for their petite Liberal daughter to have a taste of what they really wanted for me deep down. I played on the volleyball team back home in Connecticut and loved it, so naturally as soon as I started University here I signed up and oh my god. It's immediate how much everyone down here wants you to become some hucow trad wife with a forty-five IQ. I've been here just one year and my first doctor's appointment went a little something like:

Them: "Hi, how many kids have you had so far?"

Me: "None, I'm only twenty."

Them, frantically writing a half dozen prescriptions: "That's horrible, we'll get you squared away. We'll start you off with fertility drugs, aphrodisiacs, pain pills--the good stuff, so you can take whatever the frat boys dish out. And IQ-lowering drugs."

Come to find out under my insurance, mandated by the state, I'm obligated to take all this stuff under legal penalty. I've heard I wouldn't go to jail, just a girls' correction camp where I'd be conditioned into love becoming a breeder. I couldn't believe any of it at first, but I adjusted..... knowing I'd be a horny, overly fertile mess with an IQ that shrank by the day....... I went from a 163 to an 84. But my doctor is unhappy and wants me to halve it asap.

I started playing volleyball and it clearly wasn't a sport down here, just a spectacle for male titillation. One team would be 'shirts' and the other would be 'skins'. The 'shirts' team would play with a tied off wet T-shirt, no bottoms, and the 'skins' would play topless in a super short schoolgirl skirt. In women's college sports, the winning team would be injected on the spot with breast-growth drugs, super potent, as a handicap of sorts. Punishing us for having athletic ability, same went for gymnasts or girls that ran track. They'd all be injected if they won. Most of us were absurdly pregnant. We all had huge boobs, fat asses, so horny we could hardly focus, bouncing and posing for the mostly male spectators. Doing fun things like groping ourselves when we score, or pissing ourselves in front of everyone as we rub our bellies sexily.

I gave birth during a game, still playing while in labor with quintuplets. I looked ready to explode and everyone joked that they hoped I would burst. Well, I'm not sure if they were joking, to be honest..... But as you can see my team did exceptionally well, thanks in large part to me, who actually came from a background playing the game seriously. The growing belly, bouncing udders, and shrinking IQ barely interrupted my focus..... Only problem is we're growing so fast and doing so well we're all starting to struggle with just how big our boobs are getting. I'm already two months pregnant again...... And we just won our first game yesterday. If I could feel pain I bet my back would hurt.....

The girls keep saying we're gonna have boobs so massive our backs break, and they say it like it's no big deal. Not to worry, we just need to meet good men who can take care of us once we're basically just a gigantic pair of breasts that can give birth, little more. They even naughtily say our bodies will be numb from getting paralyzed, so guys can do whatever they want to us and we won't even feel it. Guess all the pain meds are getting us ready to have a set of proper back-breaking tits. I even giggle and join in, knowing it's so disgusting and misogynistic...... I chat with my new friends, smoking, our pussies full of cum, our IQs turning to slush, breasts growing cartoonishly big, dripping milk constantly..... I tell them how fun it'll be watching my future husband do whatever he wants with me, having his way with my body, getting out all of his anger and frustration of my colossal breasts, each weighing more than me... maybe each weighing double what I do. And they all couldn't agree more with me. Maybe.... I'm starting to like living down here. How silly I was..... ever thinking I'd be more than pair of tits and a womb...."

#breast expansion #be #breast inflation #pregnant kink #breeding k1nk #immobile kink #free use kink

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pucksandpower · 11 months

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Your Boss Will Do | Toto Wolff

Summary: your (ex) boyfriend screws you over so you end up screwing his boss and find love in the most unlikely of places

Warnings: infidelity (not between the main pairing), attempted violence, and vague mentions of spice

As you stepped out of the taxi, the heat of the sun embraced your skin and welcomed you to the bustling principality where the Monaco Grand Prix was about to take place. This was supposed to be an exciting weekend with a chance to visit your boyfriend, Lucas, who worked as a mechanic for Mercedes. Little did you know that your world was about to be turned upside down.

You had been together with Lucas for two years, and although there were some ups and downs in your relationship, you believed your love was strong. But as you made your way to the hotel, your heart started to feel a strange unease as if something was amiss. Brushing off the thoughts, you told yourself it was just lingering stress from the long journey.

Finally, you arrived at the luxurious hotel which was already buzzing with team personnel and fans there for the upcoming race. The lobby was a sea of energy and excitement but you just could not shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong. Still, determined to see Lucas, you tried to ignore the pit in your stomach and made your way up to his room.

As you approached the door, you heard muffled moans and whimpers coming from inside. Confusion and curiosity gripped you. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether to knock or just barge in, but ultimately you chose the latter, wanting to surprise him with your early arrival.

What you saw upon entering shattered your heart into a thousand tiny pieces. There, tangled among the bedsheets, were Lucas and a flushed woman you had never seen before. The shock paralyzed you as you took in the scene before you — their disheveled clothes, the guilty expressions on their faces, and the unmistakable sense of betrayal that hung heavy in the air.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you stumbled backward. Lucas and the woman quickly separated, faces pale as they realized they had been caught in the act. You turned on your heels, running out of the room, heart pounding in your chest as a tidal wave of more emotions than you could pinpoint flooded your entire being.

With nowhere to go, you found yourself seated at the hotel bar, seeking solace in a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid swirled as you nursed your broken heart, thoughts consumed by the image of Lucas and that woman now imprinted in your brain.

Lost in your despair, you failed to notice the man who had quietly taken a seat next to you. His presence disrupted your thoughts, and you turned to face the tall, distinguished gentleman in a white button down with serious brown eyes and a calm yet intense demeanor. You immediately recognized him from the Formula 1 broadcast on your television screen.

“Seems like you could use a friend,” Toto said, his voice smooth and comforting. “Mind if I join you?”

You nodded, appreciating the unexpected company. Toto ordered a drink and leaned back, his eyes studying you curiously. “I couldn't help but notice the sadness in your eyes. Care to share?”

As the tears threatened to spill over, you found yourself pouring your heart out to someone who was a stranger in all but name. You told him about Lucas, the love you had shared, and the devastating betrayal you had just witnessed. The longer you spoke, the more your voice trembled with pain.

Toto listened attentively, his gaze never leaving your face. When you finished, he reached out and gently wiped away a tear that had escaped your eye. “I'm truly sorry for what you are going through. No one deserves to be treated like that.”

With a heavy sigh, you confessed, “I don't even have a place to stay now. I was supposed to stay with Lucas but I can't bear to be near him.”

Toto's eyes softened with empathy. “You can stay with me. My villa is not too far from here. It's the least I can do to offer you some comfort.”

Surprised by his generous offer, you hesitated. “I don't want to impose.”

“You are not imposing at all,” Toto assured. “Please, let me take care of you.”

A mix of trepidation and desire coiled within you, weaving a web of temptation. In that moment of vulnerability, you made a choice to embrace the unknown and surrender to the passion that beckoned. Nodding in silent agreement, you allowed Toto to guide you away from the bar, leaving behind the splintered shards of your past.

In Toto’s private sanctuary, a world of decadence and desire unfolded before you. The opulent villa, with its dimly lit rooms and plush furnishings, became a playground for stolen moments and hidden pleasures. Each touch, each kiss, ignited a fire that consumed you both — a flame that burned away the remnants of heartbreak, leaving only an insatiable hunger for each other.

Amidst tousled Egyptian cotton sheets and whispered promises, you discovered the intoxicating power of surrender in a dance of passion and vulnerability that left you breathless. Toto explored the contours of your body with reverence, awakening desires you had long forgotten. In his arms, you found redemption, his touch mending the broken fragments of your soul, as overwhelming pleasure mingled with bittersweet memories of the past.

Days turned into nights and nights into a blur of fervid moments and languid mornings. Toto spoiled you with adoration, showering you with gestures that whispered of his devotion. He painted your world with colors that had only existed in dreams before him — the symphony of his kisses, the tender caress of his fingertips, and the way his voice melted into yours during whispered confessions of early love.

Race weekends came and went and your connection with Toto grew stronger with each passing moment. He showed you a different world filled with respect, kindness, and unconditional love. His home became yours as well — a sanctuary where you could heal and rediscover yourself.

Toto’s touch was gentle yet electric, sending shivers down your spine whenever his fingers brushed against your skin. His lips were soft and warm, his kisses both tender and passionate. With each intimate encounter, the tension between you heightened, adding an exhilarating edge to your blossoming relationship.

You were swept up in a whirlwind of romance. Between heated embraces and whispered pleas, Toto convinced you to join along for his travels and soon you were exploring countless cities together, walking hand in hand through the vibrant streets, indulging in exquisite cuisine, and immersing yourselves in the local culture. Toto was a fascinating companion, his stories painting vivid pictures in your mind and his presence making you feel alive in a way you had never experienced before.

As neither you nor Toto had any desire to keep your relationship hidden, Lucas was in for a rude awakening. Consumed by anger and jealousy, he confronted you one afternoon outside the Mercedes garage, spit flying with his bitter words. “So this is what you've been doing while I was working, huh? Sleeping with my boss? I hope you're happy. Keep opening your legs to anyone with some money in the bank!”

His words stung but you refused to let his cruelty break you. Standing tall, you looked him in the eye, your voice steady. “I may have ended up in Toto's arms but I was driven there because you broke my heart into a million pieces. I deserve better than the lies and betrayal you offered me. But in the end I should thank you, because you ultimately led me to the best thing that has even been mine.”

Lucas’ face twisted with rage but before he could respond, Toto emerged from the garage, his presence as commanding and solid as always. “I suggest you leave, Lucas. Your behavior is unacceptable and I will not tolerate it in my team or in my personal life.”

Lucas’ mouth opened and closed but no words came out. His anger turned to defeat as he stormed off, leaving you standing there with Toto by your side. The relief of having Toto’s support washed over you and you clung to him as your knees threatened to buckle, knowing that you had made the right choice in leaving Lucas behind.

From that day forward, Toto spoiled you with love and affection even more than before. He showed you what a true partnership based on trust, respect, and shared dreams should be. He supported your aspirations and encouraged you to pursue your own passions, all while cherishing every moment you spent together.

You stood by Toto’s side, attending races and witnessing the triumphs and challenges that came with the sport firsthand. The fiery passion between you never waned but it was no longer the sole foundation of your relationship. It had evolved into a deep emotional connection — a bond that transcended just physical desire.

You found yourself becoming a familiar face in the paddock and the lively Mercedes garage. The once-foreign territory transformed into a second home filled with friendly smiles and warm greetings from the team. Toto took pride in having you next to him and he delighted in showing you off to everyone watching.

With each race, you became more absorbed into the world of Formula 1. The team welcomed you with open arms, eager to share their knowledge and stories. You listened attentively, absorbing the intricacies of the sport and the dedication that fueled each member. Similarly, they admired your resilience and how you had overcome heartache to find love and happiness again.

The paddock buzzed with whispers and speculation as news of your relationship with Toto spread like wildfire. Some saw it as a scandalous affair while others admired the power couple that had emerged from the ashes of betrayal.

Lucas was unable to escape the reality of your newfound connection. The sight of you and Toto, locked in an embrace or sharing hungry glances gnawed at him like a festering wound. The anger within him grew, fueled by jealousy and entitlement. He resented the fact that you had moved on and found happiness in the arms of his boss.

One fateful day as the sun beamed down on the paddock, Lucas approached you, his face contorted in anger. “So this is what it’s come to,” he sneered, words dripping with venom. “You've officially traded me in for a richer model.”

You remained tall, refusing to cower as he wrongfully projected the blame onto you. “It was never about power or wealth. Toto has shown me what true love and respect look like. He cherishes me in a way you never did and never could.”

Lucas’ rage flared and he lunged forward with misguided fury. “I won't let him have you! You're mine. I won't stand by while he takes you away.”

But before he could reach you, Toto wedged himself between you and Lucas, a protective pillar of strength. “You will not touch her,” Toto pushed your ex-boyfriend back. “Your possessiveness and anger have no place here. Y/N does not belong to you or anyone for that matter. She is free to choose who to love and she has chosen me. If you cannot respect our relationship, I will have no choice but to take further action.”

The ugly expression never left Lucas’ face but he must have recognized the futility of his actions. Toto was nearly a head taller than him and at the top of both the Mercedes and Formula 1 food chain. With one final glare, he turned and disappeared into the crowd of people as his bravado crumbled.

Toto drew you into his arms, holding you close as if to shield you from the remnants of your past. His touch, once filled with merely desire, now possessed a deep set tenderness — a promise that he would always defend and cherish you.

As the season continued, Toto’s devotion to you only deepened. He spoiled you with grand gestures and intimate moments — helicopter rides over breathtaking landscapes, candlelit dinners under the stars, and stolen kisses in the hustle of the garages. He reveled in pampering you, eager to show you what a true partnership built on mutual respect and trust should be like.

It was in the moments away from the track, in the refuge of your private lives, that your relationship truly flourished. Toto was your confidant, your champion, and your partner. His love letters adorned your nightstand, his whispers of adoration reverberated through your dreams, and his touch ignited a passion that transcended feasible thought. In his arms, you discovered the depth of intimacy and connection, where pleasure melded with profound emotion and left you breathless and yearning for more. In the midst of the chaos and adrenaline, Toto became your anchor, grounding you in a love that surpassed all expectations. You navigated the twists and turns of the sport and of life together and faced the triumphs and setbacks hand in hand. The love you shared with Toto was a force that defied all doubts and insecurities, reminding you that you were worthy of happiness and bliss.

While celebrating a victorious race, you relished in the second family that had adopted you. Laughter filled the air as the team exchanged stories and you couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging.

As the conversation shifted to humorous anecdotes, Toto leaned in and whispered in your ear, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Remember the first time we met at the hotel bar? I never would have imagined that sitting next to a beautiful woman nursing her whiskey would lead to all of this.”

You chuckled and playfully nudged him. “Well I suppose we have Lucas to thank for introducing us in his own twisted way.”

Toto raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Yes, he was quite the unusual matchmaker. I doubt he expected me to take such an interest in his ex-girlfriend.”

A burst of laughter escaped your lips and you shook your head. “I'm sure he regrets it now.”

Just then, Lewis joined the conversation. He flashed a grin at both of you. "So is it true that Toto stole your heart faster than our car can drive a lap?"

You exchanged a playful glance with Toto before replying. “Let's just say Toto knows how to handle more than just the team.”

Toto shrugged teasingly. “What can I say? I have a magic touch both on and off the track.”

The group erupted into hoots and hollers and, reveling in the well-meaning cheers, you realized that despite the initial heartbreak and turmoil, life had brought you to a place where love and joy prospered. You couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected turns that had led you to where you were meant to be.

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cerise-on-top · 4 months

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Hello! I hope your requests are still open because your writing makes me go 😙🥹❤️💞✨

So, can I request 141 men + Nikolai + König when reader needs CPR?

Hello! My requests are always open, unless I explicitly state somewhere that they aren't! I'm glad to hear that my writing is enjoyable to you! This request was fairly difficult to write since I've never performed CPR before, I've never been in a dangerous situation like that either, so I hope I was able to do it justice! Thank you for requesting!

TF141, Nikolai and König Performing CPR on Reader

Price: In his case, you were probably just putting away some Christmas decorations, offering to go upstairs and stash away the box. It seemed simple enough, what could go wrong? Eventually, he heard something large and heavy falling down, a loud thump sounding throughout his home. Did you drop the box? How lovely. With a chuckle, he walked up the stairs himself, calling out your name. The door to the room was open, a few Christmas ornaments rolled on the floor. Did you trip? Once again, he called out your name as he opened the door, his chest tightening with worry. When he saw you lying on the ground, absolutely motionless, seemingly not even breathing, he panicked a bit.

It wasn’t the first time he had seen something like this happen, nor was it likely going to be the last, but it was you. Lovely you, who really shouldn’t be dying in a place like this. Rushing to your side, he instinctively checked for a pulse. The room seemed so cold, with his blood to match, as he couldn’t feel one, and thus he rolled you onto your back, putting his ear to your chest. Nothing. Fuck, you really shouldn’t, you couldn’t, die in a place like this, not to something like a heart attack. It hadn’t been long just yet, he convinced himself, there was still time to save you. Why didn’t you say anything?

Price was never one to physically freeze up, it could mean his own death if he was paralyzed, after all, but he had never been closer to being unable to move. Checking your mouth first, it seemed empty, he quickly put his hands over your chest, pumping away. His rhythm was steady, his pumps powerful, Even when he heard the cracking of bones, he didn’t cease. Losing you was the worst thing that could have happened to him. Mind blank, forcing any and all thoughts that weren’t him counting to thirty, he took a quick, somewhat deep breath, gently exhaling into your mouth. If this didn’t work he was fucked, he didn’t have the time to dial 112 either, after all. This could have been such a nice evening, but the worst took place… Suppressing anything and everything that wasn’t his physical activity, repeating it time and time again, he was just about ready to give up. Putting pressure on your chest again, he talked to you, maybe out of fear of never seeing you again, maybe to calm himself. Whichever it was, he spoke clearly, if just a bit rushed. “You can’t leave me alone here, please.”

Eternal moments that seemed to never pass, but eventually, your heart started beating again. It’s in that short moment of respite that Price called 112, immediately stating his location and what happened. But until that help arrived, he never left your side, always checking for your pulse, always checking if you’re breathing. To hell with everything else, once the medics had arrived he went with them, making sure you were alright. There was no way he’d leave you alone for a while after something like this.

Gaz: Good food was always among the most important things to you and him, and thus you spend the day before New Year’s Eve with him, enjoying his culinary expertise. Regardless of how spicy it was, you always kept going, even with tears in your eyes. Gaz could appreciate that, someone with a big stomach willing to eat the food he makes. Taking another bite of his spicy spaghetti, you listened intently as he cracked another joke, accidentally inhaling some of the noodles in your mouth, with them going down your windpipe. You started coughing violently immediately, hitting your chest to get those damned noodles out of your throat. But to no avail.

Gaz immediately tried the Heimlich manouver on you. It seemed to work after a few times, even if you had gone unconscious by then. Yes, he knew you were not supposed to use it on unconscious people but he genuinely did not know what else to do. Slowly lowering you to the ground, he, too, would check for a pulse. Normally you’d find one, but not in your case, with your breathing having ceased as well. Unlike Price, he’d call 112 immediately. While he did know even before the call that he’d need to perform CPR on you, it was for the best he’d help stabilize you until help would arrive. Listening to their instructions, he’d immediately told them you weren’t breathing and asked them to come to his address, he put his hands on your chest as well.

It would take a bit for him to find a steady and good rhythm. He was a soldier, yes, he’d been through even more stressful situations than one could imagine, but this was something else. While you wouldn’t be the first loved one he had lost, he’d be damned if he didn’t try to resuscitate you. He wouldn’t always reach exactly thirty, no matter how calm he thought he was, being off roughly one or two pumps from time to time. Him trying to breathe life into you again would also be extremely gentle, almost more so than Price. Your lungs could rupture, leaving you lost forever. He couldn’t afford a single mistake. No matter how hazy his mind may have been in that moment, he was going to save you. You were going to be alright, help would be here soon.

And that it was in the following moment, with him leading them to you as quickly as possible. Like Price, he’ll simply lock his home and go along with you, if they let him. And if they don’t then he’ll demand to be informed at once when he can visit you. He knows an ambulance isn’t the biggest car, not too many people can fit inside it, but he wants to see you again, alive, if possible. Too many people die per day, you don't need to be one of them. However, as soon as he’s allowed to, he’ll visit you, regardless of whether one hour or one day has passed. In his haste, he might not have brought you a gift, and for that he’ll try to calmly apologize, but he was just that worried about you.

Ghost: It was a lovely winter evening with the both of you just being out for a ride, with you driving. Ghost sat in the passenger seat, making conversation with you as you talked about anything and everything. The road was a bit slippery, England was known for its rain, after all. It wasn’t that cold, it could have been colder, but the wet road posed a danger in and of itself. He had been looking forward to something like this, just spending time with you on the road, listening to some blasted pop songs that were overplayed on the radio and chatting about how your lives were going. Everything seemed peaceful enough, everything seemed good so far.

The songs were sometimes interrupted by warnings of a ghost driver on the road where the two of you had been. It was worrisome, but you insisted that you weren’t going to encounter them. It seemed so unlikely, it might as well not happen. But somehow, Ghost couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. And later on, after the fourth warning, a car came down the road you were driving. Usually so quick with your reactions, you were too slow this time, with both cars crashing into each other. Yours, being the smaller one, rolled over too. It was a horrid sight for anyone involved, but Ghost was somehow able to drag himself out of the wreckage that was your car. People had started stopping and gathering already. But, despite being bloody and in pain, he searched for you, hoping he could find you alive and somewhat well. Finding you wasn’t the problem, dragging you away from the car was. Ghost ordered someone to call an ambulance as he checked for your pulse. None. No breathing either.

The people around him tried to tell him what to do, giving pointers that he barely even heard. He immediately started performing CPR on you, pumping away on your heart to get the leftover oxygen circulating through your body. He was relatively calm about all of this, his mind hardened enough to not jump to the worst conclusions. By no means was he ready to let go of you and lose you, but panicking wasn’t going to solve anything either. Thirty times he pumped, twice he tried to bring you back to life with more oxygen. The lights around him blurred together, the chatter of the people didn’t reach him, all that mattered was you, all that mattered was that you’d survive. Although it tried to get foggy, he kept his mind crystal clear, knowing that once you were going to wake up, you’d want someone with you who was calm and collected, ready to calm you down and give you a rundown of what happened. He needed to be that person for you.

The ambulance arrived soon enough and, as he had no one to ride with in the middle of the road, they took him with them to the hospital. He was quiet the entire ride, but never let his eyes leave your unconscious body for even a second. It was selfish of him, but Ghost wanted you alive and for himself. Hell, if he had to shoot the ghost driver himself to accomplish such a thing, he would.

Soap: What better thing was there to do during summer than going for a swim with your loved ones? It wasn’t exactly uncommon for you and Soap to meet up just to play around a bit in the water. Although you would have loved to go to one of the beautiful beaches the country has to offer, you opted for going to one of the public pools as those were closer. There were plenty of people there anyway, but at the very least you wouldn’t have to drive for a few hours just to be able to play in the water. It was far too hot for that, after all, and the both of you just wanted to dunk each other underneath that blue gold.

It was around midday when the two of you were eating some fries, with you joking about needing a nap afterwards despite you not nearly having eaten as many as Soap had. But they were relatively cheap and filling enough, they were a good source of food when it came to just spending a day at the pool. You may have been far from full, but it was still nice to be able to take a nap, even if it was far too loud and the stench of chlorine wafted through the air as well. However, Soap decided he’d try to convince you to go swimming with him anyway, and how could you say no when he can be one of the most annoying people on god’s green earth. So, you agreed, willing to swim around the perimeter of the pool to please him.

However, soon enough, you felt a cramp coming along. It was slowly sneaking up on you, making sure you’d feel your doom coming along slowly. You panicked, trying to get out of the water so you wouldn’t drown, but it was too late by then. Instinctively, you curled up, sinking like a stone eventually. Soap noticed immediately, swimming up to you as quickly as he could and dragging you out of the water. But he was too late. By the time you were out, you stopped breathing. Soap panicked a bit, hoping this was all just destiny playing a cruel trick on you, but he wasn’t out of his mind for long, taking a quick breath before pointing at someone nearby and ordering them to call an ambulance. He’d hesitate a bit, not wanting to disrespect your boundaries, but he’d get to work quickly enough, knowing fully well that you weren’t going to leave him over him performing CPR on you when you could have died.

Like Gaz, he wouldn’t have the rhythm down immediately, he had never done this before on a proper human, only the dummies. When he isn’t trying to breathe into you, he might ask someone to play some music with the proper rhythm, it would help him tremendously. Him actually hearing the music is another thing after a while. Because his mind would go foggy, he would go wild with worry, but he won’t stop trying to reanimate you until the medics would take over. Or until you’re spitting out the water in your lungs, whichever comes first. There’s a chance they likely won’t take him with them since he was only wearing his swimming gear and someone needed to pick up your things as well, but you can count on him doing so immediately. You are near and dear to him, he can and will break the traffic laws if only to get to you a bit more quickly.

Nikolai: You were likely in his workshop, helping him out here and there by handing him some things. Such a thing had become routine for the two of you as well, with you being his beloved little helper. He was working on his helicopter again, making repairs, performing general maintenance on it, that sort of thing. Despite him being quite the handyman, capable of doing just about anything with his hands, he doesn’t always have the time to do so, leaving some things unfinished, almost dangerous, in his own four walls. Although he’d love to fix the electrical wiring in his workshop so it would work properly again, he was always busy as of late, with Chimera taking up most of his time.

You chatted with him for the time being, making it a game of what he could be needing next. Which screws was he going to replace this time to make the helicopter more safe? You’d find out soon enough. However, he was asking for a tool, a specific wrench, which you didn’t have on hand right now. No matter how much you looked nearby, it wasn’t there. However, you did spot it on the workbench in front of you, and thus you went to pick it up. However, something unfortunate must have happened as it was near an open electrical wire. You didn’t feel like grabbing rubber gloves just for that, though, so you went to pick it up regardless.

Nikolai hit his head on the helo as he heard you scream, perking up immediately to see what was wrong. Soon enough, however, you went completely quiet, completely still as you didn’t move a single inch anymore. Something was up, something more important than the helicopter. Immediately, he rushed to your side, throwing aside the screwdriver in his hand. You really shouldn’t have touched that, but that wasn’t what was important in the moment. Grabbing your hand, he tried to feel a pulse. In this case too, there was none. He couldn’t feel your chest rise and fall, he couldn’t feel your heartbeat. He wasn’t panicking, Nikolai barely ever did, but he did feel a certain sense of dread as he called 112 as well. The call was short enough, but too long for his liking either way, since any second could decide whether you live or die.

In all fairness, Nikolai has performed CPR plenty of times throughout his life, so he knows what he’s doing. His rhythm is never off, his pressure is good and he won’t break any ribs of yours either. He breathes into you fairly gently as well, but quickly enough for him to get back to doing chest compression. He’s completely calm, his mind doesn’t wander. Maybe once, he’ll think about not wanting to have you die just yet, but he’s not too worried. Whatever it is life throws at him, it won’t be the worst thing he’s gone through, but if he can extend your life just a bit longer, he will. Watches you very closely for any signs of you being alive again, sometimes checking for a pulse before going back, repeating the same steps over and over again.

When the ambulance arrives, he’ll ask if he can come along, but won’t make a fuss if they won’t let him. While it won’t leave his mind, he won’t freak out over it, he knows you’ll be in good hands now. A few hours later he’ll visit you. Unlike Gaz, he gives himself enough time to get you some chocolate or something. Anything to try and comfort you, dying isn’t fun, after all.

König: A habit the two of you had developed was just spending time with each other in silence. You were drawing in your sketchbook while König was watching a video on his phone. Everything was good, nothing was off. Sometimes you’d make small talk, ask him about what exactly he was watching when you heard him chortle at some angry German speaking bus driver yelling. He was nice enough to try and translate the jokes into English, but that didn’t mean everything carried over well. You couldn’t understand why he was laughing at some man screaming while getting out of a bus in a video game, but oh well. As long as he was having fun, everything was good.

Sometime later, you noticed that it was getting harder to breathe. It wasn’t impossible, just difficult. You could still get enough oxygen as it was, but you felt a bit light headed. Eventually, you did have to use the bathroom and you excused yourself for a moment. König didn’t mind, it was nice to have you be this comfortable in his home. He, too, would hear a thump and call for you, asking you what was wrong. When there was no response, he’d knock on the door. Listening intently to what might have been the matter, he heard you gasping for air until that stopped too. The door was locked, making it hard for him to get to you, but he was worried. No matter how much he tried to get you to respond, you didn’t.

Eventually, he just ripped the door off its hinges to get to you. In the end, he was glad he did since you had collapsed onto his bathroom floor. Shaking you while calling your name did nothing, so he, too, opted for feeling a pulse. Nothing on your wrist, nothing on your chest, no breathing either. Naturally, he called 144 and followed the instructions perfectly. There was no time to be wasted, he knew that, but he couldn’t help but feel that twinge of fear in his heart either way. König was only a worried man when it came to some social situations, but this time he could feel the fear arising in him just a bit. It wasn’t enough for him to actually deter him, but he was afraid of messing up. You were important to him, he couldn’t make a single mistake.

He knew that there are some songs that are ideal for CPR, but he won’t play any of them on his phone. In his mind, he’ll try to remember them, their rhythm. If it’s a song he especially likes, then it’ll help him calm down a bit as well. He isn’t panicked per se, but his mind will wander just a bit. Like Price, he’ll push the bad thoughts aside. He’s all for realism, but if he can, he will be in denial about your death for as long as he can be. While König has been in situations where someone needed CPR, he was never the one to perform it, so he hasn’t mastered it. He only had to take the course several times. Even so, he performs well enough, keeping you alive long enough for the medics to arrive and take you away. He’s aware he’s a big guy and thus likely won’t fit inside the ambulance, but he will come visit you as well. Might yell at you a bit as he was quite worried, but don’t take it to heart, he needs to relieve some stress after this as well.

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frxxxncx · 8 months

Text

police - c. seungcheol

»police!¡Choi Seungcheol x fem!¡reader.

»Summary: Where Choi Seungcheol always comes home late and you can’t stand it anymore.

»Tags: smut (MDNI), oral (m. f. receiving), pet names, establish relationship, police seungcheol, innuendo (it’s for the plot), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, body worship, mention of stretch mark, scars, etc, dom!seungcheol, sub!reader.

»Words: 3.1k

note: I'm new here and I was just looking for a new place to share my writing. I hope you enjoy my work ^^

note 2: Any typo or incoherence that you might find was completely intentional, it’s for the sake of learning about my mistakes. Please cut me some slack 🫠

And like it was some kind of ancestral tongue, he already knew what she wanted.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

And like it was some kind of ancestral tongue, he already knew what she wanted.

🌻

The hours passed slowly on the clock, the second hand seemed to go slower and slower as if the minutes took years.

You were so sick of your boyfriend's nightshifts, you couldn't see him anymore, you couldn't hug him, kiss him nor he could fuck you dumb like he used to do until not so long ago, you missed him at home.

You kept waiting for him laying on your bed, you just missed him so much, his touch, his scent, his kisses, how he used to caress your body with his long and thick fingers like you were the most beautiful piece of art he had ever seen. And obviously, you miss the sex. You swear you could feel his mouth kissing you, your lips, cheeks, your neck, collarbone, your boobs, your belly, and that place so private that he knew like the palm of his hand.

You couldn't help but bring Seungcheol's white t-shirt close to your nose, so you could smell his musky scent, it felt like he was on top of you. Your fingers quickly touched your lips and take the same route that your boyfriend's lips were used to do over your soft and warm skin, with delicate touches your hand was now in between your thighs, and you didn't lose any time to start giving that little bud of nerves attention, while you smelt Seungcheol's scent, just as if it was him the one touching you.

Soft moans started to escape your mouth and by the moment your hand slid inside your panties to caress your sticky folds and stimulate more your clitoris you were doomed. The clock marked 1 a.m. and the front door opened religiously like every night. The heavy footsteps were loud in the hall, but you were so into pleasing yourself that you forgot about your partner's time of arrival.

Seungcheol stood still in the frame of the door, paralyzed, with one foot in and the other out of your room, looking at how his girlfriend was masturbating while sniffing his white shirt, which was so up onto her stomach that he could see her panties where her hand had adventure. He slammed the door so loudly that you couldn't help but jump in your bed, getting out of your hands up, and looking immediately to the door you felt so relieved, he looked so hot in his police uniform and watching you with lust and desire in his eyes.

He smirked with those plump and cherry-colored lips that you love. "What are you doing all by yourself babe?" asked, his black curly hair moving softly as he stood in front of you, his knees touching the bed.

You nimble onto your lower lip as he was so close that you could smell his musky scent mixed with sweat. "Is just that you haven't been around so much, I missed you" You got closer to the end of the bed sitting with both your legs on each side of your boyfriend, daring to rest your head on his hip feeling your mouth water because of the proximity of your face with his cock.

"Is that so?" one of his thick and dark brows was furrowed looking down on you and you just nob with your head still resting on his hip " Mmh, I see, it seems like I spent too much time outside, but you know I'm working, right, sweetie? if you wanted my cock so bad you could have told me before '' your boyfriend's expression was blank, he looked so serious, but you knew he was just being sulky because you were masturbating alone and didn't tell him that you were needy.

You lifted your head to put your jaw on Seungcheol's abdomen gripping each side of his hips with your hands "Don't get mad, Cheolie" you said while holding tighter onto his hips and pounding.

Your boyfriend didn't say a word and just folded his arms to look into a dead point in the room, you couldn't help but crack a little laugh and decided to get up and turn to cause Seungcheol to do the same, once he had the bed behind him, you pushed and make him fall and sat in the bed.

Seungcheol looked at you with a furrowed eyebrow and a slight smile, when you knee in front of him, with one hand in one of his thighs so close to his pelvis that it felt like fire in his skin.

"Mister officer, I've been such a bad girl" You squished his thighs a little hard and continued to say "As my punishment, would you like me to polish your gun?" The double meaning of the words made your boyfriend laugh.

"Sorry, I left my gun at the station, but if you polish another thing I don't have a problem, sweetheart" A flirty smile appeared on his face and you nodded excitedly.

You gave him a sweet kiss on the jaw and untuck his work shirt from the pants starting to unbutton slowly the fabric while you were giving soft and humid kisses across his bare chest, you listened to his soft moans and by the time you finished unbuttoning his shirt, your jaw felt the cold hardness of his buckle.

You quickly got your hands on his belt and unbuckle it, getting even his pants unzipped in record time, finally seeing the black fabric of his boxers, one finger outlined his hard cock and when it got to the tip, you shoved your hand inside his boxers, feeling the hot and heavy cock of Seungcheol, the feeling of his hardness in your hand made your mouth water.

You took the extension of your boyfriend's dick and slowly began to circularly caress his tip with your thumb, gently pressing the sensitive area. The sensation of his slick skin in your hand was quite exquisite, Seungcheol's head was tilted while looking at you with tired eyes feeling so good by you jerking him off.

Your hand started to go up and down faster and stronger, making the tip leak white liquid which was dripping down the vein side, lubing all your work making it easier and more pleasant for your boyfriend.

A throaty moan came out of his mouth, it felt so good.

You liked your lips, helping you with your other hand, you pulled his work pants and his underwear, and immediately he raised his hips, finally taking the last of Seungcheol's clothes off.

His hardness raised proud, slapping against his bare and toned abdomen, his cock was perfect, with the angry red color of the tip, making you gasp.

Your face got closer and your spit got to his dick, making it more lubed.

Your thumb was massaging the tip while the palm of your hand continued to caress the rest of his cock. You stroke a little hard his tip and felt your panties get slick because of the delicious groan that Seungcheol just left you hear, you could taste his throaty moans every time your face got close enough for him to feel your hot breath in his length.

You both locked eyes and your boyfriend's looked glassy, the desire could not be overlooked, and you wanted it as much as he craved it.

Your lips were so close that he could feel your thick and warm breath on his cock, you gave a loud kiss on the tip, and you heard him groan and scoff at the same time, making you smile too, your tongue gave a kitten-like lick to the slit savouring the salty taste of his precum before you go head down trying to take all of his cock in your mouth, feeling the veins of his dick and the tip meets with the back of your throat.

Even though you have sucked him many times throughout the five years of relationship you had you just couldn't get used you the thickness and longitude of Seungchoel's dick, but that would never stop you, a scuffed moan slipped from your mouth knowing that you boyfriend would enjoy the vibration and the sound of your mouth is stuffed with his dick.

You could feel his balls against your jaw while deep-throating your boyfriend, he didn't waste a second and started to fuck your mouth slowly with you accompanying his movements, your eyes started to water and as much as you wanted to keep watching the glorious expression of ecstasy on seungcheol's face, you couldn't keep your eyes open anymore, just letting him get off in your mouth.

The cusses and moans didn't spot coming from your boyfriend', the delicious sensation of your hot and wet mouth on his cock was just another level of torture for him.

Your boy was so close to cum in your mouth -as always- but that didn't stop him from asking if he could do it "Babe" his voice sounded hoarse and a groan scape when you sucked the tip a little too hard.

You already knew what he meant when he called you, you could feel his dick twitching in your mouth, and even though you were always happy to drink his cum, he asked every time without fail and for you that is as sweet as him buying you a big bouquet of flowers.

You bat your lashes as a response and with a blurry vision you looked at how his jaw get tight while he let his head fall, you continued sucking him and when you felt the tip touch the back of your throat he let out such a guttural and lewd groan that had you pressing your thighs together knowing that you were sopping wet in your own arousal.

Sungcheol grabbed your head softly but still, his grip was steady, he bucked his hips up slowly chasing his orgasm, and finally with a hoarse moan of your name he empires his load down your throat, the cum spilling a little from the sides of your mouth mixed with your spit. You gave him the brightest smile he has ever seen you put while sitting in his lap and giving him a kiss letting him taste himself on your tongue.

His lips are sweet and addictive, his big hands grabbing your hips steady so close to his own body, you could feel his warm dick picking your belly angrily, making you anxious.

He brushed his lips on your cheek and started to give a wet kiss on your jaw going down on your neck, his long fingers taking your shirt off, finally, he got to see you only in your panties.

His kisses came down to your collarbone, the place where he was very into, leaving small hickeys, some of them will be gone in some hours, while the others will be a red-purplish colour by tomorrow.

The trip of his lips continued and now he left a kiss just above one of your nipples, making you gasp, his lips wrapped your little bud and he sucked and licked with a maddening pace. You grew impatient while trying to get more, moving your hips closer to him.

And like it was some kind of ancestral tongue, he already knew what you wanted.

The heavy feeling of his cock over your clothed cunt made you let out a guttural moan. Seungcheol raised above you and grabbed your thighs tightly, getting up from the edge of the bed and spinning to get you in the middle of the bed, his face now cuddled in your neck smelling your sweet perfume mixed with your arousal.

He traced a line of soft kisses along your abdomen until he got to the elastic of your underwear, his thumbs dared to tuck into the elastics and pull them down slowly while his eyes were stuck in your dripping cunt.

Once your panties got to your ankles they went straight to the other side of the room with the blink of an eye getting lost in the darkness of the room.

He took your ankle and raised it close to his face, now starting to give kisses until he got so close to your cunt that you could feel his hot breath. Little kitten-like licks over your clit were so sudden that a loud moan escaped your mouth without your consent.

"Always so needy for me," Seungcheol said while sucking on the little bud of nerves.

The sheets were crumpled in your fists and your back was so arched that you felt as if you were about to break, while Seungcheol keep licking and sucking like there was no tomorrow, his tongue fondle your clit when two of his thick and long fingers pushed inside your sopping cunt, you couldn't help but to let out a whine because of the sudden intrusion.

One more finger join inside of you and he had you screaming in pleasure, the digits worked on your velvet gummy walls skillfully, a third finger was present while starting to finger-fuck you roughly not forgetting to rub on your clit.

A fireball was starting to develop in your belly, making your whole body tense up, your body started to shake in anticipation, a strangled cry left your mouth when you finally hited your desired climax, your insides were sucking and throbbing against his fingers, he help you ride through your hight still fucking you, when your completely limp in your bed he takes his fingers out and his wet hand full of you ecstasy went directly to his mouth were he didn't doubt taste your arousal, like it was his first meal in weeks.

"You are so perfect, my love" his eyes looked at you shining, so in love, he kissed you so desperately and eagerly, and your heart felt heavy, how could you not love this man?

His hands run over your body sweetly, with love and care, lining all the "imperfections" of your body, the ones he loved so much because they were part of you, all the scars, the stretch marks, everything that made you feel uneasy, it still couldn't fit in his head, how is that something like that could make you feel bad about yourself?, he liked them all, because they are part of you, the person he loves the most in the world, the one that make him feel a fucking zoo, that one that makes him wanna cry cause he just can't believe you are his.

He gave you a bright smile and then a kiss, so soft, it was just your lips touching, like two preschoolers, only feeling the closeness and the warmth of your lips. A taciturn kiss without any kind of morbid desire.

He looked into your eyes and thought that they were similar to the galaxy full of shining stars, crossed his mind, he was in love, hypnotised. He asked for permission with his gaze and you with a softened heart couldn't refuse.

Seungcheol was between your legs, with your thighs on each side of his hips, running his fingers in your skin softly and finally aligning his fat-dripping tip with your leaking cunt, he slide slowly inside of you looking at how your eyes were closed shut, and started to pant, once his thick and heavy cock was completely inside of you he didn't move at all, 'cause even though the prepared you, he was to much and it felt like you were about to break. He kissed you on your cheeks, and your forehead, in your lips and nose, and you couldn't help but laugh feeling sincerely happy.

He put his arms on each side of your head, his hips jerk up a little, hearing you moan silently.

He felt your hips move, looking for more friction and he couldn't help but chuckle because of your impatience, he grabbed your waist, and his grip was sturdy and it felt so strong that you were sure, by tomorrow his hands will be painted in a purplish colour on your skin.

Your hips were pinned down on the bed, unable to move, while he kept slow and short thrusts, with an almost inhuman rhythm, he was rejoicing on your moans and the warm embrace and exquisite feeling of your velvety walls on his cock.

Seungcheol kept lugging at a slow pace for a while until he couldn't take it anymore and the movement became faster and messy, it felt almost animalistic, he was so deep inside you that you could feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix exquisitely.

Your moans were drowned in each other's mouths, kissing like there was no tomorrow, like it was the last time you were going to be together.

You felt him hit that one spot that always had you howling in pleasure and it always impresses you how something so primitive like having sex makes you go so dumb because that was what your boyfriend was doing, fucking you dumb, but it was far more impressive how even after being together for such a long time, he's always able to make you feel even better, maybe you were just to in love or Seungcheol was just to good at fucking you.

Your belly tightened and your boyfriend's ramming didn't stop or even slowed down, the mattress crashing with the wall more loudly every time, echoing with the obscene and wet sound in the room.

You both could feel in the high of your climax, a caravan of fireworks exploding inside of you, and after whining loud seungcheol's name like it was a mantra you could be fucking sure that your neighbors will not forget his name again and they will not call him police boy gain.

After a few seconds, he finally pulled out carefully and threw himself beside you trying to ease up his breath.

You both looked into each other's eyes and couldn't help but laugh, the harmonious sound filling the room. You were sweaty and tired and you smelt like sex, but you definitely were more relaxed, even though you couldn't stop laughing because the situation was pretty hilarious.

"I think I should forget more about you coming home at 1 am," you said happily.

"I think you should polish my gun more often" proposed Seungcheol, closing his eyes and nodding for himself, a punch in his shoulder made him move his face to look at you.

"It's not a bad idea" he said while laughing widely and you couldn't help but laugh too.

"Stupid officer"

#how embarrassing I had this in drafts for a month #hear me out choi seungcheol as a police #I DONT KNOW HOW TO USE TUMBLR HELP #seventeen #svt x reader #svt #ao3 #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #svt smut #svthub #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol x you #scoups #scoups x reader #svt fanfic #svt seungcheol

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evanpeterswhoresblog · 1 month

Note

i'm soooo glad you're back!!! love your writting so much, was thinking about some ghostface¡ tate or shit yk...like everyone who flirts with reader end murdered

i’m sorry this took me so long to do 😔 but i sorta did my own twist on this request, hope you don’t mind… i love it… anyway… :)

~~~

Lovefool

Tate Langdon x f!reader

warnings: murder, smut, stalking, obsession, very toxic, manipulation, very minor talk of drug use… virgins, yeah idk what else it’s just stalker tate being crazy for you

summary: tate’s loved you since the first moment you met, and he would do anything to be with you… anything…

word count: 4.4

~~~

2011

You stare at the boy in front of you, a mix of emotions stirring inside you. He’s your age still, you aren’t too surprised at that. You’re more surprised at the fact that he’s in front of you. It’s been so long since the last time you saw him. You remember the pain, the pure fear that paralyzed your body the last time the two of you had an encounter. It still makes you uneasy.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice weak.

He shrugs. “It’s Halloween.”

“There’s been plenty of Halloweens Tate and this is the first time I’ve seen you here. What do you want?” You reply in a harsher tone than.

Tate shrugs again and starts to play with the sleeves of his sweater. You can’t believe this is real. You want to close your eyes and pretend this is all a sick dream, though you haven’t slept in years. After a few seconds, you cross your arms over your chest and take a deep breath. This isn’t going to be easy.

“Tate the fact you even have the balls to try to find me is crazy, what happened? Did you suddenly feel some sense of guilt? Are you finally sorry for what you did to me? I don’t even care if you are sorry, I don’t care about anything except the one question I’ve wondered since the night it happened,” you say.

“What question?” He responds.

“Why?” Your eyes start to burn. “Why did you kill me?”

~~~

1993

Tate had never seen any girl as beautiful as you. Never. Not in a movie, not in a magazine, nothing. From the first time he saw you in kindergarten, he knew there was something special about you. Of course, he didn’t know it would grow into what it did until middle school when his hormones took over. His feelings for you quickly transitioned from a pure crush to a sick obsession. And the best and worst part of it all was that you had no idea.

You never really spoke to him. He was out of your league. You were popular, but not braindead popular like the people you surrounded yourself with. Tate had seen you in some of your classes. You were smart, you got the best grades in those classes. You had plans for yourself after high school, unlike your friends. That knowledge only made him admire you more.

The problems began when you started going out with one of the popular boys in your group, David. He was awful for you; Tate didn’t understand why you chose to have such a relationship with someone like that. He’d watch how David would wrap his arms around you in the hallways, leave small kisses on your cheeks, and whisper words in your ears that made your face turn bright red. It made him furious.

What did David have that he didn’t? Why was he so special? Tate knew he could give you more than David ever could. So, why were you with him?

Tate quickly became blinded by rage and jealousy.

At night he’d lie awake, the knowledge that you might’ve been out there opening your legs for another boy making him sick. That’s when the fantasies began. He imagined killing David. How would he do it? Where? In what way would leave the least amount of blood on his clothes? The image of his mutilated body consumed Tate’s thoughts. He liked it.

It was around that time that he had found the mask.

It was a strange mask he found in the basement. It had a long white face with black holes for the eyes and a long mouth. He wondered which resident of his house had left it there for him. He didn’t know, and frankly, he didn’t care. All he knew from the second his eyes fell upon that mask was that bad things were going to happen.

He started going out at night and driving by David’s house. The mask he wore gave him a sense of power he never knew he could feel. At first, it was innocent. He’d simply drive down the other boy's road and look through his window for a few minutes before leaving. But all it took was one second of seeing you inside to blow the whole thing up. He was livid, seeing red. He decided he needed to bring his fantasies to life and get rid of David for good.

Halloween was when the opportunity to kill David became undeniable. By that point, Tate had been stalking the two of you for a month so he knew the basics. Which room was Davids, how to get into his house, and where his parents were most likely going to be. He had it all planned out. So, on Halloween night he put on the mask along with black robes that covered his entire body and ventured to the other boy's house, ready to kill.

He brought a knife, and when the time was just right, he snuck in through one of David’s open windows and started his game. He crept through the empty house, not making a sound. Getting to David’s room only took him a few minutes and what he heard from outside the door made him not regret his choice at all.

“Yeah, I know, listen she’s so close to finally giving it up to me and that’s what I’ve been working for this whole time. Once it happens, I’ll dump her, easy,” David spoke into his phone. His voice was cocky. It made Tate clench his jaw in frustration.

“Because dude, do you know how many girls from school I’ve already got under my belt? Y/N is just gonna be a name on my list. Yeah, whatever, I gotta go anyway I need to shower for the party, maybe I’ll get lucky, and she’ll drink too much. Okay bye.”

Before David could even get up from his chair, Tate kicked the door down and stormed in, too overpowered by his rage to think about anything but slitting the other boy's throat. He pounced on him, stabbing the knife into any part of his body he could reach. David screamed, but Tate quickly silenced him by shoving the knife down his throat. He felt empowered, he felt thrilled at the sight of his dead peer. It was amazing.

Tate didn’t waste much time gawking over his achievement, however. Once he was sure David was dead, he quickly pulled the knife out of the boy and fled out the window and back to his car. As he drove through the small neighborhoods of your guys' town, he wondered how big the news would be. Would you cry? He hoped you wouldn’t. Not over that asshole. You would move on, and Tate would wait however long it took.

~~~

The news of David’s death spread faster than wildfire and consumed Westfield High’s drama for weeks. Out of all the kids in the school, you took his death hardest. Seeing you so depressed almost made Tate regret his actions. He couldn’t bear seeing you tear up in class or show up to school two periods late. You weren’t like that.

However, as the days turned into weeks, you started to appear healthier and happier, and soon enough you were back to your normal self. Tate was glad, you were always so much prettier when you paid attention in class. He decided it was time for the second part of his plan to finally act. Though he was incredibly nervous, he knew it was then or never. He couldn’t risk you getting a new boyfriend that he’d have to kill again.

So, one day, he followed you into the library when the two of you coincidently had a study hall during the same period. His heart was beating so loud he could hear it in his ears. There you were. sitting at one of the tables alone studying, and he was going to speak to you. He’d thought up conversation starters all morning along with taking a few extra hits off his bong to help with the anxiety.

He shook the nervous thoughts from his head and grabbed his notebook from his backpack before walking in your direction. Your head was down, your hand moved aggressively across the paper as you wrote your notes. Tate stood at the other side of the table for a few seconds simply admiring you. His hands were shaky, his breathing uneasy. God, you made him lose his composure by existing. It was excruciating.

After he was done staring, he spoke, his voice quiet. “Hey y/n, do you mind maybe helping me with some of that psych homework?”

Your head shot up, your eyes instantly meeting his. He swore he couldn’t breathe. You, y/n, were looking at him on purpose. At that moment he didn’t care about what you were going to say, he didn’t care if you completely rejected him. All he cared about was how good it felt to have your eyes on him. Such innocent, loving eyes.

“Oh, yeah of course Tate that’s actually what I’m working on right now. Just sit, we can do it together. Unless you’re like super behind,” you answered.

“Are- Are you sure?” He couldn’t help the uncertainty. Did you really say yes to him?

“Yeah... should I not be?” You replied with a smile.

“No- sorry.” He sat down across from you. He could smell your perfume; he’d never been this close to you. “I just wasn’t sure if you even knew who I was.”

You chuckled. “How could I not know who you are? We’ve literally been in the same school system together since kindergarten.”

“I don’t know. You’re you know popular and stuff,” he said as he opened his notebook.

“Not really, besides even if I was that wouldn’t automatically make me forget anyone. But anyway, you can use my notes in a second, I’m almost done with the page,” you responded. You looked back down at your work and started writing again.

Tate nodded despite you not paying attention and watched as you wrote. He felt like that whole conversation was another one of his daydreams about you. Was he really sitting across from you? Or was it another mid-class nap? He cracked his knuckles to make sure he wasn’t dreaming and thankfully, he wasn’t. It was all real life.

“Sorry if this comes out as creepy, but I feel like I haven’t seen you around in a while. I mean, when was the last time we even spoke?” You suddenly spoke, your eyes back on his.

“I guess you weren’t looking hard enough to see me,” he said with a shrug. All his confidence was a facade because on the inside he was losing his mind.

He noticed the way your cheeks slightly turned pink before you replied. “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t. But I should have been.”

He knew deep down you were going to be his for so long, but at that point, he knew he had already achieved his goal. You were his.

~~~

“What is this place?” You asked as you clutched your cardigan around your body.

Tate smiled and grabbed both of your hands in his. “I told you it’s a surprise. Patience is a virtue.”

“I have patience, but I also have a lower body temperature than usual and it’s bothering me so I would really appreciate it if you’d just take me to the surprise already,” you said, a small smile forming on your lips.

“It’s seventy degrees.”

“Yeah, but it’s also windy at the beach and it’s probably colder than seventy because of the ocean’s temperature.”

Tate sighed and leaned his head down to press a small kiss on your lips, a feeling he still hadn’t gotten over. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Terrible, naughty things I hope,” you replied, kissing him again. “But please lead me to your special surprise beach spot.”

Though he wanted to stand there and kiss you all night, Tate obeyed your request and began to lead you further down the beach. It had been a few months since the two of you started talking, and to say it progressed would be an understatement. Tate had truly underestimated how easy it would be to capture your attention. All you wanted was a sweet, caring, genuine boy and he could be all those things easily.

So, after a month of being friends, he asked you out and you said yes. The relationship grew deeper with each day, and it didn’t disappoint him one bit. He loved everything about you. The way you’d lie on your bed with him and talk for hours, the way you’d make your relationship with him public by holding his hand in the halls, and most importantly the way you never expected or wanted him to change to fit in with your friends. You liked him for who he was, and it melted his heart.

It was your three-month anniversary, and Tate wanted to make it special. Even though he knew before the two of you got together that you were a virgin, he didn’t know to what extent you were. He quickly became aware you had done most things already, just not full sex. At first, he was annoyed at the fact that you weren’t completely his because he had never done anything with a girl before you. But after the first night, you went down on him, he wasn’t that upset anymore.

On this night he planned to take the next step with you. He had it all set up. The blankets, the lights, all of it. As the sight of his setup came into view, he watched your face light up. You squeezed his hand and grinned up at him.

“Is this really for me?” You asked.

“Yeah, do you like it?” He replied.

You nodded and sped up to reach it, dragging him with you. Once you made it you dropped down to sit on the blanket, urging Tate to do the same. “This is so cool. You’re the first boy to ever do something like this for me. I love it.”

“I’m glad, I know how you like sentimental things,” he said as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “And I’ve been wanting to show you this spot for a while. I used to come here a lot as a kid and watch the waves with my dad... before he left. I wanted to make it special with you because you’re not like my dad. Right?”

“No, I’m not. I won’t ever do anything to hurt you like that. I lo- I like you Tate, a lot.”

Tate only stared into your eyes, his heart beating faster than it ever had in his life. You almost said you loved him. He knew then that night was going to be the night you finally gave yourself to him. Something in your eyes made him certain. Your eyes were dark. You stared up at him as if he were the only boy in the world. There was a feeling in the air, one of lust and fear.

“I’ll never want to hurt you either,” he mumbled after a few seconds. “I doubt I ever could.”

You gave him a small smile and placed one of your hands on his cheek. You caressed the skin with your thumb as you slowly started to lean your face toward his. He accepted your lips on him, kissing back instantly. It was the moment he’d been working up to for years. He was finally going to lose his virginity to you, and you to him. Nothing would ever compare.

~~~

The sound of Nirvana mixed with skin slapping filled Tate’s room. He couldn’t help the moan that left his lips when he looked down at you. Your back was arched so perfectly, your waist looked impossibly small, and your ass looked incredibly big. The side of your face was smushed against one of Tate’s pillows. You were so red, so loud you had to bite your hand to spare the whole house from hearing. Tate took in a deep breath and slapped your ass, his thrusts not faltering for even a second.

“Fuck baby, you look so pretty right now. You take me so well,” he whispered. He wrapped some of your hair around his hand and yanked you up, making you practically scream. “Yeah, you like that. You like being manhandled y/n?”

You let out another moan but didn’t reply. Tate slapped your ass again and threw you back down to the mattress. He leaned over you, your sweaty body feeling perfect against his. He was close to finishing. He’d already made you cum a few times that day, so he wasn’t too concerned about where you were. All he was concerned about was getting closer to you before he came.

“I love controlling you, you’re so helpless. Fuck I’m so close,” he mumbled in your ear. “You’re mine, all fucking mine forever. I’ll kill anyone who even tries to take you away from me.”

You made a noise and Tate couldn’t hold back any longer. He came inside you, his cock pulsing heavily. You groaned; his cock was hitting your cervix too hard it hurt. He waited a minute or so before finally pulling out and moving to the spot next to you on the bed. He’d never felt anything as amazing as having sex with you. He was breathless.

He was so caught up in his thoughts about what just happened that he didn’t notice your sad expression. When he eventually looked at you, he saw your frown. Immediately he turned to his side and faced you, reaching out one of his hands to brush a few of your hairs behind your ear.

“What’s wrong baby?” He asked.

“Nothing,” you replied.

“It doesn’t look like nothing you look sad; you can tell me whatever it is.”

You sighed and turned your head to meet his gaze. “Why do you like hurting me? Like during sex and stuff. You’re always so rough and I don’t know you’re really mean and sometimes the stuff you say is… scary.”

“How is it scary?” He laughed.

“You said you’d kill anyone who would try to take me away from you,” you said.

“Yeah, I would. I swear I’ve said this shit to you before. I would do anything for you, or to keep you,” he responded.

“Don’t joke about that Tate, you know I’m scared of killers because of what happened.”

“Oh, so this is about David? Why are you even thinking about him y/n he’s been dead for months. Do you miss him, or something is that it?” He questioned; his tone harsher than before.

You scoffed and sat up. “You’re seriously making this about me missing David?”

“Well, is that what this is about?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered before you stood up and started to get dressed.

“Oh, my fucking God y/n I’m sorry for whatever I said wrong while we were fucking. Can we just move on already? I don’t see what the big deal is,” he snapped.

“No, we can’t just move on. You scare me sometimes Tate like genuinely. I know you mean it all in a sweet way but it’s weird. I love you but you don’t hear me saying I’d kill people if they talked to you or looked at you a certain way. That’s not normal.”

Tate sat up. “I wish you would say those things. I wish you loved me as much as I love you. I’d do anything you ask; I would shoot up the fucking school if you wanted me to.”

You looked at him, he could see the terror and fear in your eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Of course, I am. I don’t get why you’re acting so scared. I’d never hurt you I don’t even think I could if I wanted to, you mean more to me than any person alive or dead,” he answered.

“You’re sick,” you mumbled. You grabbed your bag and walked to the door. “I think we need some time apart; you aren’t sane.”

His heart practically stopped. “What?”

“We need to stop seeing each other for a little while, I can’t take this insane shit Tate. I’m sorry. You know I love you, but I need you to get some help before I can be with you.”

Before Tate could reply, you left. All he could do was stare at the door, a million thoughts roaming his head. Did you really just break up with him? Was that it? Did you just throw away everything the two of you had because you felt his love was too strong? It didn’t feel real.

As the night progressed, he tried to call you, dozens of times. But each call was either declined or rang out. His anxiety grew with each ring of the phone. Why weren’t you replying? Who were you seeing? Did he really mean so little to you that you could leave so easily? His mind spun with scenarios, each one worse than the last. By the end of the night, he had convinced himself you were cheating on him, and the following days only worsened his state of madness.

You ignored him completely in school. Every time he tried to talk to you, you either turned away or walked away completely. It hurt him terribly. He couldn’t understand what had changed so fast. He chased you around the halls for days, trying his hardest to get your attention. But it never worked. And so, his love for you began to fade into an awful rage.

He couldn’t let you just walk away from everything the two of you shared. You were his. Only his. He couldn’t let you leave him, not like his dad. He hadn’t spent his entire life chasing you just to end up losing you. No. So, he began to formulate a plan. He’d leave you alone for a few days then calmly ask you to meet him at the beach, in the special spot he once made for you.

He wasn’t surprised that his plan worked. You were predictable.

When the night came, he made sure he was prepared. He snorted a line, packed his bag full of your favorite things, and set off. As he walked down the beach, he made sure the knife he hid was secure in his pocket. It was smaller than the one he’d used on David, but it would do the job just as efficiently.

You arrived a few minutes after him, a sad expression on your pretty face. He fought the urge to run to you with open arms.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. Only a few feet separated your bodies, he wished he could close it. But he needed to be patient.

You took a deep breath, you looked nervous. “Yeah, look Tate I... I’ve thought about it and I... I really think we should stop seeing each other for some time.”

“Why Y/N? I love you, so fucking much. I’m sorry for what I said, I can change, I won’t say shit like that ever again. I’ll be gentle, I swear. Just give me the chance I can be whatever you need me to be,” he replied desperately. He opened his bag and pulled out your favorite candy. “I love you; I really do. Please give me another chance.”

He watched your eyes fill with tears. You wanted to give in, he could see it in your eyes. But you only shook your head and wiped a fallen tear from your cheek.

“No. I’m sorry. Tate, you aren’t gentle, that’s not who you are. And I don’t want you to pretend to be someone you aren’t.”

Tate swallowed hard. “You promised me you’d never leave me; you said you were nothing like my dad. Was it all a lie?”

“Of course not!” You exclaimed and took a step closer to him. “I love you; I really do. That’s why this is so hard.”

“If you love me, why can’t we work this out? Don’t lie to me Y/N.”

He couldn’t stop his eyes from watering, nor could he stop his lips from quivering. He dug the bouquet of your favorite flowers out from his bag and held them out to you.

“Please,” he mumbled. “I need you.”

You caved. You wrapped your arms around his waist and held him tight. He could feel your muffled cries on his chest, it pained him. You were a sensitive sweet girl; it was both your blessing and curse.

“Maybe in a few months, we can try again, I don’t know.” You looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. “We just can’t be together right now. And I mean we’re going to graduate soon, and I might go to a college far away, how would that even work? But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s too late for that Y/N, you’ve already hurt me.” He dropped what he was holding and dug one of his hands into his pocket. He touched your face with his other hand, your tears covering his palm. “You’ve planned on leaving me this whole time. I wanted to give it another try you’ve made up your mind. I guess it just comes down to one thing.”

“What?” You asked.

“If I can’t have you, no one can,” he whispered before he pulled out the knife and plunged it into the side of your neck.

~~~

2011

“I killed you because I loved you,” he answers. “Because you were going to leave me and find someone else.”

All you can do is stare at him in silence. You think back to everything that happened. How could you have been so blind? It couldn’t have been your fault though. He would’ve killed you anyway. You think back to all the times Tate made you uneasy, all the times he would say things that creeped you out. Deep down you must’ve known that’s who he is. Maybe you knew all along.

Maybe you loved him because of his darkness.

You exhale a long breath. “We don’t have that long till midnight.”

“So?”

You shrug. “Wanna hook up?”

191 notes · View notes

jedi-enthusiast · 1 month

Text

I haven't made a post in a while, so here's my think piece on why the "Anakin was sleep deprived and thought Padme was going to die" excuse for his actions in ROTS is bullshit, since I feel like tossing my two-cents into the conversation.

----------

I have really bad anxiety and, when I am without my medication, that anxiety turns to extreme paranoia. I am also in a near-constant state of minor sleep-depravation, since I suffer from insomnia, but when my paranoia kicks in, I will go days on end with little to no sleep.

Some backstory, so that all of you understand exactly how and why my anxiety when it comes to death/sleep is so severe:

I had cancer a couple of years ago- (about three I think, but my memory from that time is very foggy) -and, during that time I suffered from something called Methotrexate Toxicity, which is when chemo leaks into your brain---or, at least, that's how the doctors explained it to me.

In short, I went to sleep one night and woke up paralyzed, and for a week I was certain that I was going to die.

I'm better and am no longer paralyzed, but now when my paranoia kicks in I become convinced that---if I go to sleep---I'm going to either die in my sleep or wake up paralyzed again and then die. Depending on how severe the paranoia is, sometimes I also become convinced that my mom and dad will die as well if I sleep, usually in a car crash---since my dad has almost died in a car crash twice.

I become physically unable to sleep because I am so terrified of doing so.

Now Anakin, as he's portrayed in Lucas canon, has no such issues---he only suffers from occasional nightmares, not the sleep depravation/paranoia combo that I suffer from. I'm sure we can all agree on which is worse.

Even if he did suffer from the same issues, though, it still doesn't excuse his actions.

I have had times where I've been up for almost 3 days, running off of 3-4 hours of sleep and convinced that the moment I fall asleep I'll stop breathing, and still I have never thought of harming other people. Mass murder, genocide, whatever! None of it has ever seemed acceptable to me, even during my worst spirals.

So I don't give a fuck whether Anakin was sleep deprived or running on fumes or what, he's still responsible for his actions!

#star wars #sw prequels #anti anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker critical #tw medical #tw paranoia

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archangeldyke-all · 3 months

Note

Are your Sevika requests still open? 🥺👉🏽👈🏽

I have this idea in my head that I can't get out. I'm not a huge fan of the concept of having kids (not for me!) but I can't help but think of Sevika very slowly changing her attitude and priorities around fighting for the cause because she just found out she's gonna be a dad in the future. Her hesitating around something Silco asks or mentions and her being like "I..I got a kid on the way." Cis or trans Sevika, doesn't matter either way

sevika requests are always open :) and this is the cutest thing i've ever heard.

i don't want kids either, but for sevika?? i'd have so many of her kids that the doctors would have to tell me to stop before my body gives out.

men and minors dni

you and sevika don't want kids. it's not in your plan.

sevika's got a dangerous job. it took years of convincing, years of proving to her that you'd be okay without her, that you want her just as she is now, for her to finally give in and make you hers.

and you're perfectly content.

she works horrible hours and comes home beat up more often than not, but you take the time to patch her up each night, and the two of you spend every free second you have together.

she moved you into her place on your fourth date, and you've been happily living together ever since.

and two years ago, when she shyly shoved a tiny box in your hands and nervously looked away as you opened it, mumbling under her breath a question you could barely make out ('i was wonderin' if you'd like to maybe spend forever with me?') you said yes, with no hesitation.

you guys didn't get married. weddings in zaun are incredibly rare, saved only for the wealthiest, and getting a marriage certificate from piltover for two zaunite women is nearly impossible. but, you had a little ceremony in the last drop (which was really just an excuse to throw a rager) to commemorate your eternal love for one another.

and since then, you've been perfectly happy with your little life.

but, accidents happen.

accidents like sevika swearing she'll pull out, begging to feel you without the condom, then cumming the second she pushes inside of you, whimpering and apologizing and cursing your hot, wet cunt.

accidents like you sleeping through the alarm for your pill.

accidents like sevika forgetting to grab a plan b on the way home, too busy fiddling with the tooth some goon knocked loose in her jaw to remember.

and, usually, these accidents lead to nothing happening. so you and sevika assume it's safe to keep letting them happen.

but then, your period's a week late.

and then two.

and then you take a pregnancy test, and it comes out positive.

and then you take three more, and they're all positive too.

you're paralyzed with shock and fear. you spend the entire day sitting in the bathroom, staring at the positive tests on the counter, crying and laughing, then crying again.

the thing is, you're not opposed to having kids. and now that you know you'll have one in nine months or so, you're fucking elated. but you know sevika doesn't feel the same. and the thought of losing her because of the cells growing inside of you, the thought of having to choose between sevika and the tiny little fucker you're already in love with-- it kills you.

sevika comes home to find you having a panic on the bathroom floor.

"babe, you'll never guess what silco did toda-- what the fuck!?" she exclaims, immediately dropping to her knees and gathering you up in her arms. "baby-- what's wrong? are you hurt?" she asks, grabbing your face in her hands and forcing you to look at her, her eyes flying over your body, checking for injuries. you just cry more, already mourning the loss of her touch that you've grown so used to.

"i-i-i'm sorry." you cry out. sevika blinks at you.

"for what?!" she asks. "baby, you're freaking me out, what's going on?" she asks, panic in her eyes.

you take a shaky breath then reach up to grab one of the tests on the counter behind you, sobbing as you bring it down to hold against your chest.

"i'm sorry, sev, i c-can't-- i don't think i can--"

"what's that?" she asks, gently reaching for your wrist to pull your hand away from your chest.

you gulp and bite your lip as you open your hand, letting her get a good look at the test.

the confusion on her face melts. a stoic look takes its place as she blinks down at the little plus sign on the little plastic test.

you look away from her face, too heartbroken to watch her process the news. tears stream down your face as sevika's hold on your wrist goes shaky, and you prepare yourself for her to pull away.

only, she doesn't.

if you had looked, you'd see the hesitant little smile pulling at the corner of her lips. if you had looked, you'd see the way she gulps like she always does when she's surprised, the tears welling up in her eyes, the way she took a silent gasp as she blinks down at the test in your hands.

you're shocked when she pulls you toward her chest, hugging you tight against her body.

"sev-- don't." you whimper. she blinks down at you.

"what-- whaddya mean 'don't'?" she asks. you take a shaky breath.

"if you're gonna leave just leave-- i can't-- you can't be nice to me, it'll kill me." you say.

sevika's heart breaks.

she's never wanted kids. and you're fine with that.

but the second she saw the test, something happened inside of her, something swirling and giddy and nervous. something kinda like how she feels for you, but a little different. a little deeper, a little less hot and a little more familiar.

everything else in her world fades away. the stories she's been dying to tell you all day, the fire in her heart for zaun, the sounds of drunkards stumbling by your apartment, it all goes silent. it's just you and her, and in that moment, sevika realizes that maybe a kid wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. especially not with you.

sevika kisses your forehead, tears welling up in her eyes at the sound of your muffled sobs.

"i'm not leaving you baby, don't be ridiclious." she says. you cry aloud at her words, wrapping your arms around her back and clawing at her shoulders, trying to pull her impossibly closer to you.

"don't say that." you whisper, shakily.

"i'm not just sayin' it. i mean it. we promised each other through thick and thin, right?" she asks. you nod against her.

"but you don't--"

"i don't care." she says. "i'm a fucking idiot, you know that." she says. you let out a shaky laugh. "i'm not leaving." she says again.

in your first trimester, sevika's still a little hesitant-- still a little distant.

she's not sure how to handle all the emotions in her body, all the love and anxiety swirling up at all times. she puts her energy into making you comfortable, holding you when morning sickness takes hold, stocking up on prenatal vitamins and your favorite snacks, pampering you even more than usual.

this, she can handle. she loves taking care of you, she loves babying you, and with all the anxiety in her mind surrounding the baby, caring for you helps her quell it.

she doesn't talk about the baby much. she's still too nervous to talk about it.

but in your second trimester, you start showing. no longer just a little extra fat on your stomach, your baby's actually visible now. your shirts start riding up your abdomen, a little swell peaking out every time you stretch or move, and she can no longer ignore it-- there's a baby in your belly. and it's hers. and it'll be here soon.

you wake up many nights with gas or aches, and find sevika already awake, a furrow in her brow and her lip between her teeth as she gnaws on it. you ask her what she's thinking about, and she just curls around your body and kisses you back to sleep.

sometimes, you wake up to her hand hesitantly rubbing your belly, like she's scared to touch you. you just rest your hand on top of hers, interlacing your fingers and keeping her hand on your stomach while you both fall back asleep.

if she was better with words, if she had the words to express herself, sevika would tell you that she's scared. she hasn't even met the little fucker yet, and she already loves it more than anything else in her life. it terrifies her, for all the same reasons you do. she has a dangerous job, and second in command to a revolution isn't a suitable job title for a new mom.

sevika knows what it's like to grow up without a parent.

sevika knows what it's like to grow up with a jaded parent, too, someone who's closed their heart off to the world to avoid being hurt, and in turn can no longer love. and she doesn't want to do that to your baby. she doesn't want to do that to you either.

and at work, when she gets in scuffles, or gets a knife drawn on her, or gets shot at, it takes her twice as long to catch her breath.

since meeting you, she's always seen your face flash before her eyes when she dodges a fatal hit. and now, it's ten times worse.

sevika was never scared to die before she met you. and then, seemingly overnight, she became horrified of dying-- scared of what her dying would do to you. she can barely stand seeing you suffer from a headache, the thought of leaving you behind, the thought of breaking your heart like that-- it nearly kills her.

and now she's got a kid to think of too.

so, one late night, sevika approaches silco with a grimace on her face and a case of fancy imported cigars in her hands.

he knows something's up. he's known for months. but he lets her stutter out an explanation as she pushes the case across his desk.

"i-- i think you need to find a new number two." she mumbles. he raises an eyebrow at her.

"second thoughts about the cause?" he asks, flipping open the lid of the case and grinning at the quality.

"no, never." she spits out. silco chuckles and holds a hand up, reassuring her that he was only teasing.

"it's your wife?" he asks. sevika blushes at the word 'wife' like she always does, then looks away.

"no. she's tough, she'd be fine without me." she says fondly. "i..." she gulps then takes a deep breath. "we've got a kid on the way, silco." she whispers.

he freezes, his jaw dropping in shock. sevika never calls him silco, no matter how many times he insists she does. she's serious.

"i didn't take you for the mothering type." he says. she chuckles.

"no, neither did i." she says with a shrug. "but... i'm not mad about it." she says. "i'm... actually really excited." she whispers.

silco laughs, then rises from his seat, rounding his desk to shake sevika's hand. it's the closest to a hug the two of them will ever get.

"you'll be an amazing mother." he says sincerely. she has to blink back tears at his words. "come, let's smoke to celebrate." he says, waving her over to his desk.

the two of them spend the night negotiating a new position in silco's crew for her. she'll stay on as his consultant and strategist, and take on more responsibilities at the legally run bar and club downstairs, but he'll be finding somebody else to take on the more dangerous and criminal aspects of her job.

sevika doesn't tell you for a few weeks, until the change is complete.

she stops coming home with bruises and scrapes. she starts being lot more openly lovey dovey, no longer waiting for the dark of night to place a hand on your stomach, praising you at any chance she can get, even buying parenting books and beginning the 'babyproofing' process.

you don't ask her what's up, knowing she'll tell you in time.

and one day, you get home from work to a home cooked meal and candles on the dinner table.

sevika grins at the sight of you. you fawn at the way she walks you to the table, pulling the chair out for you, pressing kisses to your head and shoulders.

"what's going on?" you ask, giggling as she sits beside you. (she never sits across from you, she can't touch you from the opposite end of the table.)

"i'm in love with you." she says. you laugh.

"we've been married for two years sev, you better be." you say. she laughs, and kisses you again.

"i've never been more excited for my future in my entire life." she says quietly against your lips. tears well up in your eyes as you grab her hand. "we're having a baby." she says reverently, like it's the first time she's finally processing it. you don't tease her for it, you just squeeze her hand in yours and kiss up the tears that race down her cheeks.

"we are."

"and it's gonna be here in three months." she says, a beaming smile on her lips. you smile right back and nod.

"it is."

"i... i want to be the best mother i can be for the little fucker." she whispers, staring down at your stomach. "i want to be the best wife i can be for you." she adds on, her eyes flicking back up to you.

you nod at her, still unsure of where she's going with her conversation.

"and i can't do that if i'm dead." she says. you blink and nod and she sighs. "i talked with silco. we got a new arrangement for me at work." she explains. "just paperwork from here on out." she says. "i'm gonna get all lazy and weak sittin' behind a desk but..." she shrugs. "it's worth it for you two." she says.

you abandon dinner to fuck sevika on the dining room table.

(it's not a big deal though, sevika's never been a good cook, and she tried her best, but the food that grows cold on the table was already burnt and unevenly cooked and so over-seasoned it was basically just a pan of garlic powder.)

silco, surprisingly, is incredibly invested in the little fucker. sevika comes home once or twice a week with a new onsie or toy for the baby, gifted to her by your kid's self-appointed god-father.

by your third trimester, sevika's more excited than you are for the baby to come into the world, which is a hard feat, because you're constantly achy and sore and peeing and bloated and uncomfortable and cursing sev for ever putting her hands on you in the first place. she takes all your complaints in stride, endlessly spoiling you, constantly massaging your feet and tits and shoulders, pressing kisses against all your hormonal acne and strange patches of hair, accompanying you to the bathroom the fifty times you have to go a day.

and when your daughter finally arrives, sevika cries like a baby the first time she holds her.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

#stay tuned because the next request is answering an ask about sevika during readers labor and delivery!!!#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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haechansdoll · 11 months

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you belong to me - ldh x reader

Pairing : Lee Dongyuck x f!Reader

Description : Mark is continuously flirting with you and your jealous boyfriend Haechan must show you to whom you belong.

Warnings: smut (obvs), possessiveness, swearing, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration,reader has the ability to sense the emotions of others.

"Is that a new dress Y/n? It's stunning", Mark grinned at you from his seat across from you in the plane and you smiled back. Obviously you weren't a huge fan of Mark after everything that happened in Mexico, but Mark was your friend once, and you saw this mission as an opportunity for him to be your friend once again.

"Thank you, I've had it for quite a bit. Haechan got it for me for my birthday one year", Mark nodded at you, listening intently.

Your eyes glanced from him to Haechan. Of course Haechan was staring daggers at him. Obviously because the tension was still there after the Mexico trip.

"He must have fantastic taste. Your figure is lovely y/n" Mark smirked and you smiled in return.

Soon enough, you felt Haechan sit down next to you, he was angry, you could feel it. Mexico really ruined his relationship with Mark.

"So, Y/n, have you been seeing anyone?", Mark tilted his head and immediately you felt negative energy pouring from Haechan. You held his hand.

"Haechan and I have been together for some time. Shortly after Mexico we got together", You smiled. You felt Haechan' anger dwindle, and you felt a negative emotion come from Mark.

This went on for a while, a series of charming words coming from Mark, each of his compliments forcing Haechan' grip to grow tighter on your hand.

Finally the plane came to a halt and Haechan stormed off. Mark slowly left. Stretching, you stood up and walked behind Jeno, Jaemin walked behind you.

"Is the professor okay?", he asked quietly so Jeno wouldn't hear him. You shrugged slightly.

"He's angry, at Mark", you said. You didn't need a mutant ability to know that much.

"Any idea why?", Jaemin asked with a smug grin, you nearly rolled your eyes, you thought it was beyond obvious what was going on with Haechan.

"Well Haechan hasn't been very cool with Mark ever since Mexico, when he abandoned us, took Raven with him, and sort of paralyzed Haechan.", you told Jaemin. Truly you'd assumed that being from the future, he'd know Haechan wasn't such a fan of Mark.

Jaemin chuckled quietly and shook his head. "That's not it", his reaction earned a raised eyebrow from you. "Suho is all over you. That's the issue here". Jaemin told you.

You just laughed in return. He was full of it.

———————

"Hm, the motel rooms aren't half bad", you examined the room you were in while Haechan and you kicked off your shoes, just one bed, a cute sofa, a mini fridge, and blankets that appeared to be very clean.

Haechan gave you only half a nod, you could still feel his anger. You felt a pang of sadness in your chest at the lack of response from him. You'd done nothing wrong, Mark had done nothing wrong yet either.

"Haechan my love, what is going on with you-", you hadn't the luxury of continuing your sentence as Haechan cut you off by turning to face you and pushing you against the door behind you with his body.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?", his face was inches away from yours. "Allowing Mark to flirt with you for so long, accepting his flirtations even", Haechan scoffed, his eyes looking down to meet yours.

"Flirt with me? It's been ages since I've seen him, he was once my friend, we were just chatting", you didn't understand what Haechan wasn't on about. You just understood he was angry. Mark wasn't flirting, was he? Perhaps Jaemin wasn't full of it.

"Just chatting. Priceless. He's basically in love with you Y/n", Haechan' voice was deep and dripping with possessiveness. You'd be lying if you said it didn't cause you to feel a warmth deep inside you.

"Haechan, Mark is not in love with me. He must know by now I'm in love with you.", you spoke quietly. You could feel Haechan' anger grow smaller with your words.

"For someone with the ability to sense the emotions of others, you're not so great at sensing when asshole war criminals are in love with you". His words made you want to smile despite their offensive appearance.

It wasn't often Haechan showed raw emotion around you, he had a habit of hiding away from you and Jeno whenever he was.. feeling. You loved the vulnerability he was showing, the trust that turned you on almost as much as his jealousy and possessiveness.

You placed both hands on either side of his cheeks and smiled at him softly. You ignored the growing wetness between your thighs as he gently placed his hands around your wrists, staring back at him.

"Haechan Lee. There will never ever be anyone who will be loved by me half as much as I love you. Nobody would ever make me happier, or make me feel better than you", you could practically feel Haechan' heart swell, but you could also sense his arousal.

Haechan' hands tightened around your wrists, he pushed them up above your head and against the door, leaning towards you, his face was barely enjoy from yours, his breath was tickling your lips and his eyes looked down at yours, filled with lust.

"I'm well aware no one else will make you feel as good as I have. You're all mine angel, right?", Haechan asked. Your breath got caught in your throat, similarly to how Haechan didn't show much emotion, it also wasn't often that he would act like this, pure jealousy and arousal and taking it all out on you just the way you wanted. You nodded your head in response to his question.

He shifted the position of his head, his lips just grazing yours. You tilted your head so that you could kiss him and he pulled back. "Use your words my darling".

"I'm all yours, I promise", you whispered to him. He used one hand to continue holding your wHis hand held your chin gently, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, and he pressed his lips firmly against yours.

You whimpered softly against his lips, Haechan let go of your hands so he could but his on your wrist. Your hands found their place in his long disheveled hair, brushing it out of his face and tangling it between your fingers.

Haechan pulled back slightly and looked down at your breasts through the top of your dress.

"Mark wasn't incorrect you know, you are stunning in that dress. Unfortunately however, I want it off". Haechan' hands held the bottom of your dress, waiting for any form of consent to take it off.

He was quickly pulling your dress up and over your head when you nodded. You unbuttoned his shirt as he unclaspex your bra, then you both shed your top's in unison.

"Go lay on the bed my sweet love", he hummed and you quickly complied. The bed creaked quietly, you hoped that it wouldn’t later alert the person in the neighbouring suit, which was Eric.

The pillows were soft against the skin of your neck when you rested your head on them. Haechan hand grazed your thigh as he stood next to the bed, looking down st you. “Extraordinary”, his grip tightened on your thigh before he moved his hand up, taking hold of the waist band of your panties and pulling them down slowly, you lifted your hips to help him out.

“Y/n”, he got your attention as he removed his belt, then unbuttoned his pants. You hummed in response and he smiled, “I love you” he said.

“I love you as well”, you blushed and turned your head away only for him to turn it so you were looking at him.

“You’re beyond beautiful my darling girl”. Your face was red and your cunt was wet.

You nodded, “and I’m all yours”.

Haechan bit his lip and kicked his pants off as well as his boxer shorts, then climbed over you, hovering above yourself, holding himself up with his elbows that were on either side of your shoulders, trapping you in.

Your hands rested on his waist as he kissed you, his tongue darting out to lick your lip and you let him explore your mouth, he’d hum every time you flinched or whimpered and that only made you more aroused.

He used his knee to nudge your thighs apart from one another, you got the hint and spread them on your own. He placed his cock on your cunt, allowing you to feel the weight of it. You couldn’t help but grind your hips forward, desperate to feel him inside you.

Haechan’ cock was beautiful. It wasn’t exactly ‘large’ but it was above average, and it was thicker than average but just barely, he filled you perfectly.

“Do you want my cock angel?”, you were nodding before the words had left his mouth. He moved to rest on his knees, slowly teasing his cock on the outside of your cunt, grazing your clit with the top of his cock “Come on, you know better Y/n, use your words sweet girl”.

“Please Haechan, my love, I need you inside me, I want your cock.”, He pouted at you with fake sympathy, his thumb pressed onto your clit, slow circles forcing you to arch your back and whine, loud and drawn out. You knew your sounds had an affect on him, the way he’d grown under his breath in response, and the way you could feel his cock pulsing against your heat.

“Who do you belong to sweet love?”, Haechan asked, he barely nudged the tip of his cock into you, holding your hips so you couldn’t push him in further, you whimpered, he was driving you mad.

“You Haechan. I belong to you and nobody else. I’m yours”, tears pricked at your eyes from how desperate you were for him and he groaned.

“All mine”, he said quietly, before he slowly thrusted into you, his fingertips digging into the soft skin of your hips.

You felt like you stopped being able to breathe for a moment before moaning loudly, perhaps loud enough for Mark to hear you.

When you’d adjusted to Haechan’ size he pulled out slightly before thrusting back in, using your hips as handles to pull you back and forth, as well as to stabilize himself.

You were moaning loud, and soon Haechan was as well, you were sure Mark could hear at least you, and at this point you didn’t care if he did.

Haechan moved one hand to hold himself up so he could lean down to kiss your neck while he fucked you mercilessly.

Haechan shifted his hips so he was hitting your g-spot over and over again, that combined with him sucking on your neck was throwing you into ecstasy. And you were sure you’d have the hickeys to prove it tomorrow.

“Maybe if I mark you up well enough, Mark will get it through his thick skull that he should stay away from what’s mine”, Haechan nipped on your skin and you moaned into his ear, encouraging him to speed up.

“Rub yourself for me pretty angel”, he groaned into your ear and it didn’t take you more than a few seconds to obey, your hand reaching down to your clit and rubbing tight fast circles. You squeezed your eyes shut as your back arched against Haechan’ chest.

“Haechan, oh fuck, I’m close”, you groaned, your free hand sliding up to Haechan’ hair, tangling once again. He’d never admit it but it ruined him when you’d pull his hair.

“Come on my love, cum with me.”, he moaned into your ear. You felt heat surging through your body and suddenly your vision went white, you’re whole body tensed up and your eyes leaked tears from the overwhelming amount of stimulation.

Your cunt clenching around Haechan had him moaning loud, before he was stuttering his hips and filling you with his cum.

He finally laid next to you after his high settled. You both caught your breath and you looked over at him, admiring how pretty he looked, sweaty, red cheeks and messy hair.

“Haechan”, you got his attention. “There truly will never be someone I love half as much as you. You’re beyond beautiful and kind and intelligent. I love every part of you”, you whispered. He blushed at your words.

“I love every bit of you as well angel”

#nct haechan #nct #nct imagines #nct smut #kpop #lee donghyuk x reader #lee donghyuck #haechan #kpop smut #nct dream #nct dream smut #haechan x you #haechan x reader #haechan hard hours #nct dream x reader #haechan smut

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chloeangelic · 4 months

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I’ve spent the past week getting slandered in this community with not a shred of evidence, proof, or receipts of me being a mean girl, “Wish Regina George”, a bully, an asshole, someone who spends more time answering anons than I do writing, or any of the other things I’ve seen people say about me out of absolutely fucking nowhere, seemingly because people have grievances towards Gracie that I know nothing about. I appreciate everyone who has checked in on me and asked how I’m doing.

ETA: I have spoken to one of the people who posted statements and anons about me and we have squashed the beef. The statements made about me have been debunked and they have deleted their posts. Please leave me and my friends alone - I've gotten harassed directly and indirectly by anons and posts for two months and I'm tired. I'm not gonna prostrate myself and try to convince the internet that I'm a good person when I know I've done my best to always be kind and respectful in this community. My words will inevitably be twisted and I feel paralyzed. The damage to my reputation has already been done.

This is the only time I’ll address this, and my anons will not be turned back on because this is literally slander and a waste of everyone’s time. I’ve seen multiple vague posts about me as well and I’ve chosen to ignore it all, but it gets to a point where it feels like bullying and I’m done with it. When someone goes on tumblr live to rehash the same shallow shit talking post about me (i.e. talking shit about people they’re accusing of talking shit), that’s when I feel like my limit has been crossed, and since that same live devolved into an advertisement for the host’s own writing… This no longer reads like vigilante justice.

Let me get one thing straight: I am here to write about dick, cock and that old man. I am extremely grateful for the friends I’ve made along the way, and I am beyond appreciative for my readers who support me and who like what I come up with. I am 27 years old, I have a fulltime job, and this is one of my hobbies. If you think I’m going to spend my time in a fandom spamming group chats and being catty, I literally don’t know what to tell you. The few uncomfortable situations I’ve had on here have been addressed and squashed very quickly, whether that’s misunderstandings, accusations or anything else. In a creative space, you are bound to butt heads with people occasionally, or have people who dislike you, and that is fine. I know I have an aloof persona on here, I don’t expect everyone to like me.

I didn’t block anyone up until two days ago when this tumblr live host posted three anon asks in a row about me, and I decided to block the people who seemingly agreed with anons insisting I’m a mean girl, asshole etc. cause why the fuck wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t anyone? I don’t understand why on earth they’re so mad about me blocking them if they dislike me so much already. My shit is still on ao3 if they want to read it.

I don’t know what my mutuals do in their own DM’s, or group chats they’re in that I don’t participate in, because I stay in my lane and I spend my time writing. Of course I don’t condone bad behavior but how am I supposed to know what happens in GCs and servers I’m literally not in? Or conversations in servers where I’m not active? I have not witnessed any of my mutuals talking shit in any GCs, period. That’s all I can say. Additionally, this whole big/elite writers discord people were talking about a while ago - if that exists, I wasn’t even invited lmfao how’s that for being a big writer?

One anon said I was an asshole when they tried to have a conversation with me months back, and I assume this was my Rendezvous anon who I was snarky to cause they were snarky to me. I make it very clear that I have limited patience for anons, and when people in my comments respond back to them, they are responding to a statement that is separate from the person who sent it.

I am not entertaining this insanity any further than this. I will continue to post my old man porn and interact with my mutuals and reblog gif sets of that same old man cause that’s what I’m on here for. If you don’t like me, you are well within your rights, I assume you have your reasons, and that is ultimately none of my business. Everyone has the right to curate their own experience on a website like this.

Love,

Daddy

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asthronauta · 1 month

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WOUNDS THAT NEVER HEAL | Remus Lupin – Son! Male Reader.

Summary: Remus had within him a destructive beast that destroyed and destroyed itself. And on one of those nights he gives himself a wound that cannot be healed.

Warnings: Angst, the kind of Angst that will destroy you. Happy ending tho? There is some Fluff (father-son bond) but mostly Angst. Description of wounds (the wolf attacking itself). Sensitive topics (I don't want to say it because I don't want to give spoilers but it is a pretty painful topic). Remus is a great dad :( Enjoy?

Btw, english is not my first language so there may be some errors in my writing. I'm still learning!

Remus' body was covered in scars of all sizes. Some longer, some shorter. Some more painful, some less painful. But they were all there. Written on his skin, telling his story. Like a brand that would stay with him forever. The evidence of his pain, his past, his present and his future. The wounds he had inflicted on himself as a result of his own desperation, of his own pain, of that beast that lived inside him and escaped from his interior every full moon. Remus hated himself, he always had. And he didn't believe he ever stopped doing it. It was something he couldn't help. His condition, his curse, that burden that he carried with him everywhere. The burden that he forced everyone around him to carry. His family, his friends... His son. Remus felt like that, a burden. A nuisance.

That's how it was for many years. Eventually, he learned to live with it. Maybe it was all the nights that Sirius had comforted him or the responsibility of being a father that had made him put his own pain aside, but Remus felt happy. Happy because, despite his lycanthropy, he had a wonderful life. He had people who loved him. He had friends, he had family. He had lost many loved ones, yes, but he still had many more to carry on for. The most important person in his life; his son, would soon be graduating, and Remus' only wish was to see him grow up. That was the only thing he wanted. Remus was happy because for the first time in his life he looked around and didn't see pain, he saw love. He saw a future that he was eager for. Seeing his son grow up, graduate, fulfill his dreams, was enough for him to forget everything that had been tormenting him for so many years.

But life is cruel, isn't it?

Just a few days after his son turned seventeen, Remus had a particularly rough night. He didn't have Wolfsbane, he had spent that month's money buying his son a gift. It was a sacrifice he was willing to do for him, so he simply decided to find a place where he can spend the full moon. Just like old times. He had already been through that many times so he didn't thought this time would be different. What a mistake. Remus would never be able to get that night out of his head. It would repeat itself in his consciousness over and over again like a broken record because that day his life changed completely.

His wolf was enraged. Out of control like it hadn't been in many years. He dug his long nails deep into his own skin, Remus could feel the burning pain course through his body as his wounds spurted blood. It was horrible. Maddening. A pain that Remus had forgotten and didn't want to remember. But there it was, reminding him once again like a macabre joke. His wolf bit and tore his own skin, almost skinning himself. It seemed like the animal wanted to kill itself. Hitting against things, banging his own head against the wall until he almost lost consciousness, biting and scratching his own skin until the floor was painted with his own blood.

It was a blurry night. The only thing Remus remembered from that night was all the pain he had felt and waking up in the hospital the next day. Bedridden. Not being able to move, not being able to speak. Completely paralyzed.

•

Time had passed since that night.

It was a cold morning. Christmas was near, the year was ending. Many people were celebrating with their families and friends, but Remus couldn't. Not in the condition he was in. His son dragged the wheelchair to the kitchen, settling it in front of the table where [Y/N] hurried to put the dishes. “Today I cooked your favorite, dad” the teenager said, speaking with a naturalness unbecoming of the situation. Remus watched him carefully, the boy was serving breakfast with a smile that Remus knew he was forcing onto his face. “I tried to do it like you used to. It was a little difficult because I had to do it from memory but hey, I don't think it's that bad” [Y/N] said, showing him a weak, gentle smile, sitting next to him.

[Y/N] still spoke to him, and Remus was deeply grateful for that. He understood that it wasn't easy to talk to a person when you know you won't receive an answer. [Y/N] was strong enough, thoughtful enough to still talk to his father. And Remus was grateful. He never in his life wanted to say ‘thank you’ as much as in that moment, but he couldn't. Even if he tried, only a few sounds would come out of his mouth. Nothing more. [Y/N] looked at his father, motionless in that wheelchair. He felt a horrible lump in his throat, and the deep need to cry. But he held back. He couldn't. Not there, not in front of his father. “...Here, let me help you,” he said, bringing the plate to him.

Helping him, that was what [Y/N] had been doing for him since the accident. That and so much more. Since that night, since that full moon, Remus had been confined to a wheelchair. His body was completely paralyzed. Weak movements with his face and hands were all he could do. He couldn't speak either, a few moans were the only thing he could let out with effort. Remus was imprisoned in his own body, a body that had become useless. [Y/N] had practically become the man of the house, Remus couldn't work anymore, he couldn't do anything for himself. And the responsibility had fallen on his son, who wasn't even an adult yet. “Wanna try?” [Y/N] said, holding the fork to Remus' mouth as if he were a baby. Remus swallowed, one of the few things he could do on his own. He felt useless. “It tastes good, doesn't it?” [Y/N] couldn't help but let a small proud smile leave his lips. He didn't usually cook, he had been forced to learn to do so after the accident, and every small achievement was a source of pride for him, and for Remus too. Remus was happy for him and at the same time he was so sorry. “I'm not that bad of a cook after all, huh?” he said with a boyish smile. He felt so proud of himself, Remus wanted to smile at him so badly. Tell him that of course he was a good cook, that he could be the best if he wanted to. But he couldn't. He was trapped behind his motionless body.

Remus never felt so miserable in his life. He felt so useless, so desolate. He was screaming in pain inside but he was silent outside. A silence that drove him crazy. It was a pain and desperation that he couldn't show and Remus had never in his life appreciated being able to speak as much as he did now. He couldn't stop thinking about all those times he didn't speak, all those times he kept things to himself. All those times he had something to say and didn't say it. All the things he had to say and couldn't. It was an overwhelming anxiety, wanting to scream and not having a voice.

But you don't appreciate what you have until you lose it, right?

“I've talked to mom.” [Y/N] continued talking while feeding his father. “She said she will send us money this month too. Luckily she's been.. ehm, nice.” Remus didn't get along with [Y/N]'s mother. It was a strained and uncomfortable relationship. The woman seemed to hate Remus and has stayed away from him since [Y/N] was born. She only spoke to her son's father because she had no other option, and Remus was sure that if she could make him disappear she would. But her heart seemed to have softened when she learned of Remus' new condition -which only made Remus more miserable-. She had been the one who had been helping them financially since the accident, because Remus could no longer provide for himself or his son. “Still, I've got a job for this vacation,” he smiled at him, “I want to help, you know? Even if it's just a little.” The teen said, giving Remus a small smile that reminded him of his own. Remus felt so guilty. His son was still a child, Remus still saw him as a child. A teenager who didn't know anything about the world yet. A boy Remus had yet to finish raising, whom he still had so many things to teach. He was just a boy. His boy. His son, who had been robbed of his teenage years. He, with his limitations, had taken away his teenage years. Even so, [Y/N] continued to help him in every way possible. Cooking for him, helping him bathe, change clothes, even getting a job to help financially. Remus was so proud of him and at the same time he felt like he owed him so, so much.

“It's in a bookstore, that bookstore where the old lady who always wears flowers on her head works, remember?” [Y/N] spoke normally, as if it were just another day in his life. One more of those days before everything happened. Remus remembered that lady. She was a kind, chubby lady, a lady who had practically seen [Y/N] and even Remus grow up. In Remus' first memories of that woman she was already old. And she already worked in that old, small bookstore. Remus remembered a little [Y/N] standing on his tiptoes on the counter every time he went to buy a book there, trying to see over it with his eyes barely catching the old woman's tender smile. Remus would give anything to live those days once again. “She told me that she heard about… you know, the accident. And she said that she wouldn't hesitate to give me a hand if I needed it.” Remus sighed, everyone had been doing that. Feeling sorry for him. Was that supposed to make him feel better? Because he only felt more miserable.

Remus rambled on about that lady for a moment. He had been doing that a lot lately. He couldn't do anything but think, so he had become something of a gossip lady. He couldn't remember the lady's name, but he could remember something very specific. He remembered that that lady's daughter had died, and that she was taking care of her grandson by herself. It was curious, that thing in particular seemed to have been erased from his memory until now. He was surprised to notice all the suffering that that lady had been hiding behind her smile for so many years and Remus not only didn't give it any importance, he also cared so little that he simply forgot about it. He couldn't help but wonder if that would happen to him too. If everyone would eventually forget about his suffering, about his accident. Remus couldn't help but think of his friends turning their backs on him, of his son turning his back on him.

At that point he was just rambling. But his mind had become a black cloud of negative thoughts that followed him everywhere. Maybe they were just stupid thoughts, but he couldn't help it. It's just that he felt so, so useless. He felt like a baby that needed to be taken care of, and he didn't believe that anyone would want to take care of him forever.

It seemed curious how everyone seemed to have so many experiences, so much pain within them. And how simply everything that makes a person cannot be seen behind a look, behind a smile. It was even cruel how everyone just continued with their happiness when so many others were suffering in silence, forgotten. Remus assumed that; everyone suffers in their own circumstances, but that we were always selfish enough to put our pain above that of others. No matter what. Because at the end of the day, we are all a little selfish. Even him, completely forgetting the suffering of the lady he saw almost every day on his way to work.

And no one cared about the pain of a man who couldn't even move.

“And then I remembered that I hadn't seen her grandson in a while, I asked her about it and she didn't hesitate to tell me” He couldn't help but let out a small giggle at that. [Y/N] remembered how much that woman liked to talk and vent about her life. “She told me that her grandson moved, that he was studying at a university. Then she started complaining that her prince” He rolled his eyes at the nickname, smiling. Remus would have smiled alongside him if he could. He had never before noticed how beautiful it was to smile at his son. “left and given up the cashier job. So I didn't hesitate and asked her when I could start working.” He said, with a boyish, victorious smile. Like a child proud of his little achievement.

His son was growing up alone in front of his eyes and he couldn't do anything to accompany him. It felt horrible to miss out on his son's life as time continued to pass and pass before his eyes. Remus looked at his boy, barely noticing the innocent features of his little boy on the face of the teenager about to become a man in front of him. [Y/N] was so much like him, in some way or another. Molly had mentioned it several times, his son looked like him. Sometimes it was small gestures, sometimes it was the way he explained things, or sometimes the angle where he looked at his face. But his boy had a lot of him in him. Sometimes Remus looked at [Y/N] and couldn't help but see himself. To see in his son's eyes the same eyes he had been looking in the mirror for years. Remus couldn't help but think that [Y/N] was an improved version of him. And he was so proud of his son.

“Mhm! I haven't told you” [Y/N] said, removing the fork from Remus' suddenly, just when Remus was about to make an effort to swallow. [Y/N] raised the fork to his mouth casually, as if he didn't notice. Remus watched as his son swallowed the food that was meant for him and couldn't help but want to giggle. It was such an innocent, dumb action. [Y/N] hadn't even realized and for some reason it touched him. Remus really, really wished he could hug his boy right then. “I had a new DADA teacher this year” [Y/N] began to tell, Remus' interest quickly piqued. “I think he's my favorite so far.. he's not as good as you, of course, but I like him. His name is Edward.. I hope he lasts and doesn't leave after a year like all DADA teachers, I don't want Snape to be my teacher” [Y/N] said, making a small expression of disgust that Remus would laugh at if he could. He was happy to know that [Y/N] liked his new teacher. Remus regretted not being able to continue being his son's teacher, but at least now he knew that his replacement was good and that his son would continue to maintain a good education. Although he would love to be able to teach his son himself.

Remus looked up, meeting [Y/N]’s eyes again. But this time [Y/N] was silent. Remus knew his son well enough to know he was thinking about something. [Y/N] seemed hesitant this time, his lips pressed together, trying to decide if he should express what he was thinking. Finally, he decided to do it. “...They miss you... your students, they miss you.” Remus knew it, he had received many letters from his students after the accident. He loved teaching DADA. Teaching, communicating, connecting. He missed it so much. His classes, his students. And they missed him too. He was missed, and he didn't know if that made him feel better or worse. “...You were a wonderful teacher, dad.”

A bitter tear ran down his cheek. And then another, and another, and Remus couldn't stop it. He tried to swallow the heavy lump in his throat but the bitterness ran through his body and swallowing hurt. His eyes clouded over and Remus couldn't see his son's worried face anymore. Remus missed so much, so much, that he would give what little was left of him to relive a single day of his old life. “Dad…” [Y/N] murmured worriedly, terrified to see his father crying. He reached out and gently placed his hand on top of Remus'. Oh, his boy. His sweet boy. Remus owed his boy so much. His weak hand struggled to move, finding his son's and giving it a gentle squeeze, a squeeze that was the only thing he had left from those old hugs. He missed being able to hold his son. Remus remembered his baby, his little baby boy, so small and fragile in his arms. So innocent and so pure, sleeping in his father's arms with all the tenderness of a small being. Remus couldn't believe that that tiny baby was now this amazing young boy in front of him. Remus didn't know how he managed to raise someone so wonderful but he was so proud. Remus didn't deserved him, he just didn't.

“Dad don't.. don't cry” He stammered, feeling emotional himself. His father was the strongest person [Y/N] knew, and seeing him like this, so vulnerable, so fragile, so hurt, broke his heart. Things weren't easy for [Y/N] either, he had cried entire nights missing his father. It was all so scary, so sudden. He was just a young boy who now had to face everything by himself. And he still needed his dad, he needed him so much. His care, his guidance. Now he was the one who had taken over as caretaker, and although [Y/N] knew he would do anything for his father, he was terrified. And lost. “I…” [Y/N] bited his lip, trying to hold back his own tears. He didn't know what to say. Seeing the man who raised him break down like that in front of him scared him so much.

[Y/N] could feel the weak grip on his hand. His father's desperate attempt for contact, to feel him close again. He squeezed his hand back, feeling completely destroyed inside. Was this all that was left of his father? [Y/N] missed him so much. He would do anything to be able to hear his father's voice one more time. [Y/N] trembled, swallowing the lump in his throat. His father used to tell him how brave and strong he was when he was little, he wanted to have those words present at all times. Especially now that his father couldn't use his voice to remind him himself. He knew that's what his dad would want him to do. He wiped away the tears with his free hand and then leaned towards Remus, giving him a soft, gentle kiss on the cheek. “It’s okay dad… don't be sad.” He said with a trembling voice, not knowing what to say to take away his father's immense pain. He looked at him, his father's gentle face now static and haggard. He could see the deep sadness behind those empty long-suffering eyes. His father's warm chocolate eyes seemed to have darkened.

“I… I love you so much, dad” His voice had become small and weak, no matter how hard he tried to keep it steady. “And… you don't know.. how much it hurts me to see you like this” this time he just couldn't hold back his tears. “I just… I miss you so much… You don't know... You don't know how much I need you... I need my dad, I...” he trembled “I know you raised me to be brave but... Dad… I'm so scared” He looked at the ground, unable to look his father in the eyes as he finally broke down like a little child. “Please.. come back… I still need you…” He whispered weakly, sobbing as he looked at the ground. Trembling with no one to comfort him.

[Y/N] let himself cry, cry like he had been crying all those nights since the accident, cry like a scared little boy. He liked to imagine his father's long arms hugging him, hiding him in his chest, away from fear, away from everything. Just him and his father's warm love. He wanted to be comforted one more time, just one more time, like when he was a little. He needed it more than ever. He remembered his small form, tiny in front of Remus' large body. He remembered how he used to crawl under his father's sweaters and long coats in the winter, refusing to leave. He remembered his father's sweet chuckle, looking down at him with his warm eyes “So you're going to live in there, huh? Then I guess I'll have to pay you rent.” [Y/N] perfectly remembered his father's voice saying that and it hurt him so much.

It was at that moment when he felt a subtle, soft, almost phantom caress of his father's thumb on his hand. [Y/N] looked up, thinking that perhaps it had been his imagination, that his mind was cruelly playing with him. But there it was. His father's long, weak fingers were moving ghostly. Caressing him. Speaking without speaking. [Y/N] began to cry again, but no longer from sadness. He trembled as he felt his father's caress, because it was a caress that provided comfort, it was a caress that provided love, it was a caress that said 'I'm still here.’

#i have no idea what i write #kinda like it tho #it took me four months to write this 💀#im not proud of that #remus lupin x male reader #remus lupin x male!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #marauders x male reader #marauders x reader #harry potter x male reader #hp x male reader #x male reader #x male!reader #male reader #male!reader #male reader insert

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asgardian--angels · 2 months

Text

Talking on the phone with my mom I finally broke down and cried thoroughly about the cancellation. I think I'd been holding it in for the last two days, or two months. And honestly I've been wondering all along why this show means so much to me. I am not queer, I am not neurodivergent, I am not POC or disabled or any of the groups that this show has been so important for in terms of representation and being treated with respect and dignity. I understand and completely empathize with all of you, and fight for this show and your rights worldwide alongside you, but it still left me wondering why I myself have latched onto Our Flag Means Death. I suppose part of it is that despite being white and cishet and the privileges that have always come with that, I have been treated like an outsider and ostracized my entire childhood and teenage years, for being ugly and having "disgusting" interests (primarily liking insects, reptiles, other creepy-crawlies - aka the thing I literally do for my career now). I was bullied relentlessly from preschool through early college and became a very lonely introverted person - I still am. Undoubtedly Our Flag Means Death gave me renewed hope that I haven't missed some key window for finding love or relationships of any kind that matter, as I sit here typing this at age 28 having never dated anyone.

But it had to be more than that. And with everything that's happened the past couple of months, and the last few days, I think it finally clicked for me.

Followers of my blog may or may not know that I am a conservation biologist, or pollinator ecologist, whichever hat fits best on a given day, they're quite close. I don't make many original posts like this anymore on here because my job is so busy. Basically, I do a variety of things - academic research, habitat management & restoration, and public outreach - to try and preserve biodiversity and ecosystems on our planet. I'm just going to say it: it's a thankless job. Nothing we do ever feels like it's enough, and burnout is common in our field because we sit with the guilt of feeling like we are the only thing between survival and utter destruction of planet Earth, and work ourselves to exhaustion. It's one of those jobs where your work is your life, and your passion is your work, and it's inseparable from who you are on a molecular level. We are often faced, on a large scale, with hostility, from people that don't believe in science and are more than happy to pull a shotgun on us, or rich old men in power who are content to watch the world burn for another penny in their bank account. There are days when sometimes it sinks in just how bad things are, and it's terrifying, and I feel like we will never be able to do enough, to change enough, before it gets catastrophic. It's paralyzing.

My ability to do my job is dependent on hope. Unwavering, unrelenting hope. Hope beyond hope. We have to believe what we're doing matters, otherwise we'd fall down and never get back up again. I'm no big-shot, I give talks to a few hundred people at a time, and make urban pollinator habitat on a local scale. Is any of that going to make a difference compared to the ramifications of a single oil mogul deciding to cut corners and cause an oil spill that kills millions of seabirds and damages ocean food chains for decades to come? If people in my field let thoughts like that linger, we'd be paralyzed to inaction. I have to hope that the people I teach choose to do something good with that knowledge, and go on to inspire others, or that the patch of habitat I make allows a declining species to maintain a foothold instead of going locally extinct. You just have to keep going.

And Our Flag Means Death got wrapped up in that for me. The Stede Bonnet effect, if you will. He set out to do pirating differently, treating his crew with respect and helping them grow. In return, they internalized that mindset, and it spread to how they interacted with others. It changed the trajectory of individual lives, and also at least began to change how the society of pirates operated as a whole. It was a beacon of hope that choosing small acts of kindness did matter, even if you yourself could not see the ripples it made. It renewed my faith that love persevered and would win. That we could all make life a little better for each other and ourselves through kindness, compassion, forgiveness, and mutual support. I think a good chunk of that is from Taika - these are running themes in his projects, and his films move me deeply for that. This show became in some, perhaps subconscious way, a source of strength for me to keep putting myself out there in my line of work to do whatever I was capable of to help the cause.

The cancellation was devastating, but the second cancellation (turbohell cancelation?) was even more so. Because now it's so clear that this is largely the work of David Zaslav and the regime he's built. It's petty, it's greedy, and more than anything, it's cruel. Indifferently, indiscriminately cruel, when one person at the top can have such power to make or break the lives of thousands, millions, beneath them, and though it would have been barely a drop in the bucket, a hand wave, to renew our show or let it pass to another streamer, he actively chose to shackle it to this sinking Titanic of a company WBD has become. I have always operated on the belief that you can do anything if you work hard enough at it, and believed deep down that there was some order, some justice in the universe, atheist though I be. We as a fandom did everything we possibly could, we loved this show harder than anything. The numbers were there, the awards nominations were there, the critic praise was there, and we were loud and loyal every single day. I felt like we could do this - how could we not win when we've done so much, and the show deserves it so much? Surely cause and effect will prevail.

This fight seemed small, though really it wasn't; we fought for the right of artists and creators to make quality, original stories and have them told to their natural end, we fought for diversity representation to be more than a token character - OFMD raised the bar so much higher on all fronts, we fought to shed light on the chaos and impending collapse of this industry silencing art and exploiting writers, actors, and all manner of production workers. It was a small fight from the outside, one that I really felt we could win. And I put my heart and soul into it, because if we could win this, if we could save this simple, kind love story about two guys on a boat, then maybe there was hope for the bigger, badder stuff too. It shouldn't seem an insurmountable task for several thousand fans to convince a streaming service that they'd turn a tidy profit to give our show one more season.

Yet we lost - through no fault of our own. I am so proud of us. But that really struck deep for me. If one peabrained CEO of a media company wouldn't budge on greenlighting a show that was in his every best interest business-wise - perhaps enough to even save Max from going under in the not-too-distant future - my god, what hope was there for changing anything bigger? The 'real' problems of the world? When no amount of ethos, logos, or pathos can penetrate these men at the top, where's that hope to fight? Lately the world seems like it's just going belly up all over. If we gave everything we could, and it still wasn't enough - if it could never be enough - what hope is there? It's like chaining yourself to a tree and the bulldozer plowing right on ahead. And I think that broke something in me. It shook me to my foundations because it broke my rules of how things are supposed to work. We believed hard enough, we worked tirelessly, and we deserved it for how important this show was to so many people. And it didn't matter. Our best wasn't enough. And that caused an avalanche of all of the horrible, scary things piled on my shoulders - we're losing the Amazon rainforest too fast to save, climate change is going to turn the corn belt into a dustbowl by mid-century, a border wall is going to devastate imperiled wildlife in Texas, deforestation and hurricanes on songbird wintering grounds could lead to entire species extinctions, saltmarshes are our lifeline and they're shrinking and we're still building stupid concrete stormwalls, invasive diseases will completely alter the composition of our forests to be unrecognizable to our children, and if you don't make every slide of this powerpoint utterly perfect and you fail to convince every single person in attendance to get rid of their lawn then you've failed and the world is doomed.

I've struggled with being a perfectionist my whole life. This didn't help.

That's where I was a couple hours ago. But I took some deep breaths. I know the world isn't fair. But I really thought if we could win this one battle, then we could win the war.

But here's what I realized. Everything we did mattered. It mattered so much. Because there's the show, and then there's everything that was birthed out of that show. The community, so many of us around the world who have been uplifted by Our Flag Means Death in a real and lasting way that we will take with us and spread to affect those around us. The Stede Bonnet effect goes global. We raised thousands and thousands of dollars for charities around the world, real people whose lives have been improved, or maybe even saved, because of us and this silly pirate show. We brought a hell of a lot of attention to WBD and their shitty practices, keeping the momentum going in a way that I think is only going to build - and I sure hope it leads to Zaslav getting deposed. We have demanded more queer stories, more BIPOC stories, more disabled and autistic and middle-aged stories, stories with exquisite costumes and award-worthy wigs, dear lord, and we are being heard. We have expressed such love and support for the cast and crew, showing them that we appreciate their hard work and that we will be behind them in their future projects. So many of them have told us how the show and its fans have changed their lives. We convinced Rhys that his career isn't winding down but winding up, and to be unapologetic about his wonderful weirdness - we've proven to everyone through this show that your weirdness is what someone out there is going to love you for, not in spite of. We rallied to help writers and actors during the strikes in a way that was taken to heart and remembered. We have been out here talking it through as a crew, and turning poison into positivity, for over two years now, and that impact is permanent. They can cancel our show, they can try and slap copyright notices on our fan merch, and spew bullshit excuses about the numbers not being there. But Our Flag Means Death sparked a movement, the biggest pirate crew the world has ever seen, using our power for good.

We may not have any more new material for our show for a while, or ever. But I maintain hope that when the dust has settled and streaming has entered its 'new era' that they'll remember us and throw us a lifeline. Because hope is a part of my genetic makeup, and even in cancellation my hope has been renewed that the fight is worth fighting, that our individual choices of kindness are having an effect, and making the world a little easier to live in bit by bit. No one can take from us what we have built out of this show. And thanks to pirating, they can't take the actual show from us either. Despite this, no matter the outcome, I am so happy we got two seasons of this wonderful series. That was more than almost anyone expected. The story belongs to all of us, and it will always live on. We did not truly lose this battle, because in the process we gained more than we could have ever imagined. And I know there's still so much more to come. That gives me the strength to keep doing what I do, every day.

To me, Our Flag Means Hope.

#our flag means death #ofmd #this is a very long post but I need to write it for me #seeing the outpouring of love on twitter today has really been so needed #also realizing after i finish this that my blog name is literally 'There is always hope'#so i mean. this really has been my brand since i started here #personal

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