Black Butt-lore

just a nigga writin ouchea

[butt-lore]

Here’s something that will prolly make you sad.

Paring: PCY x Black non binary/ambiguous OC (I’m telling you that cuz I don’t know if there will be more chapters n it’s first person)

Words: 12905

Warnings: past abuse/abused/trauma mention, semi graphic (one detail). Pcy is NOT the antagonist/perpertrator!!!!

Rating: Loose fluff, loose hurt/comfort, building a relationship, soulmates sorta.

He’s been doing it all day. In between bites of the expensive dinner he insisted on, while sitting idly in traffic, while walking on the street (my hand in his coat pocket of course), everywhere we went his eyes would lazily drag across the ground or table to watch me. Never did he mean malice, I don’t think, as unnerving as it was Chanyeol appeared amused. The longer the night got the more sideshow I felt to the pleasant evening, from the private viewing of a quickly rising artist, to the picnic lunch complimented by an expansive garden, and especially at dinner, a (again) private room that overlooked the Yellow Sea. He claims he enjoys looking at me, I take him at face value. But now…

It’s not a kiss that increases my pulse, but he does kiss me in the middle of me talking. It wasn’t anything grand, just my favorite flower, which he asked for. I was caught off guard, wide-eyed, alarmed to say the least. It’s not a spectacular “soulmates meant to be'' kiss, yet I can’t call it unwelcomed. As slowly as he took his time to motion The Kiss I could have backed away. Soft as Chanyeol gently cupped each check in his large palms offset the chilly January breeze, as gentle as he leaned into my lips rather than pull me closer. Everything about The Kiss was right, the timing odd, but if this were “The One,” wouldn’t the earthquake beneath me or stars shatter from the sky? No rush of blood comes when he backs away, no fireworks form in my throat, I’m left speechless in a secluded cabin on a mountain very very very far from home. Danger doesn’t bang on pots and pans, anxiety refuses to acknowledge my behavior as any type of red flag, my body acts feels quite heavy as my head crumbles into his expectant hands. It’s so quiet in the woods.

Chanyeol’s brown eyes seemed concerned at my response— or rather the non response as an answer. We never break eye contact, even as my lungs impatiently pull air back into my chest. I need to think quickly, tell him whatever wouldn’t discourage his feelings, reassure him I just have no idea how to process the situation. Then he says something dumb— because they always say something dumb.

“It’s just..” the rapper is first to break eye contact, measuring his words with each drum of a finger against respective cheeks. “When we first spoke I thought to myself, ‘this person has the prettiest lips I’ve ever seen,’ I’ve been thinking that.” I’m not immediately offended, it’s not a compliment I’m new to, it just irritated the fuck out of me. “But just now, when you were speaking, the way you said flower was really pretty and I interrupted you, so I’m sorry for that.” I don’t process what he said immediately, so he goes on, still refusing to look me in the eye. “And when I kissed you just now I thought to myself, ‘I can’t date a person who makes me want to kiss them because they said flower’.”

Absurd. Near laughable. I knock his arms to the side to get his attention, head snapping back down towards me. “You bring me millions of miles from home, make me uncomfortable all day, interrupt me while I’m answering your question just because I have pretty lips?” Yes, the whole ordeal is hard to contain, I want to bark into fits of laughter. If it weren’t for the aggravated look he threw at me moments after my abrupt movements… I go the direct path, keeping my tone light and even, I hope I soften my eyes enough that shock has faded, even if I was still unsure what to do now.

“Yes.” I stay silent, perhaps there’s more to the story. Maybe I’m so funny I split his sides when we’re texting, a slight chance I make the best pork katsu he’s ever had, that my company was so enjoyable he took me to a cabin in the middle of the woods where no one can hear my screams no matter how loud they bounce off the walls. The warning bells I didn’t feel before punch me in the gut and I’m attentive to each move he makes now. Tiny ticks in his fingers, the frown, how he backed away.

When his rich baritone goes unspoken, I stay friendly. “Okay.” I look around the cabin unassuming, the fireplace surely has a stick or two, the kitchen isn’t far but his legs are longer than mine. I can’t drive in the snow either. Did I ever tell him that?

Chanyeol sighs, walking away from me entirely to sit on the couch. “I thought you would like it.” He sounded upset. I stay where I am by the dining table close to the entrance of the home. “Would you have preferred the city? Or a city abroad?” I inch a little further away. Small movements. “You said you hated busy places so I figured a cabin would be fun, we could go skiing or something, but I see I should have asked.”

Blinking back the alarm bells, I managed a small giggle. “I like it.” Which is the truth, this is my idea of a nice vacation. But I met Chanyeol a week ago. He’s yet to make me uncomfortable like he has today, however. “I just didn’t expect you to kiss me is all. Or for that to be the only reason you brought me here.”

The way his head jerks causes all the strands he so carefully tied into an incredibly messy bun to fall suspiciously around his face. I’m not frightened, his eyes are wide and lips parting and closing like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Just? Just? Well that’s just stupid, Rolo.” I’m not sure where I've offended him but I need to leave. “We just met a week ago. Do you think this is the norm for me? That I throw money around for people I barely even know just because they have pretty lips. I told you I thought that when we met. Would you like to know what I think now?”

I’m almost too afraid to nod, I expect him to yell, throw something, force me into submission. It’s irrational, because I don’t know this man, I’ve never spent an extensive amount of time with him alone, I know what I’ve seen and heard on television, there’s no logical explanation to my fear, but it takes me to my knees figuratively, and I’m almost audibly whimpering. Whatever he wants a soft, comforting voice whispers, you can get out alive if you do whatever he wants. I think he wants me to answer yes, so I answer yes. Dry and my throat is, he hears me.

Rising to his feet and placing his eyes back on me, this time with annoyance, Chanyeol puts his hand out. The gesture means nothing to me, was he calling me over or asking me to come over? Did he want my hand? There are too many wrong answers in these situations. I go to walk over but he puts his hand palm up, stopping me before I start. “I’m asking to approach you.” He does the gesture again, this time it clicks. He is gesturing towards me, asking respectfully without words if he can come over. I nod. He inspects me again before approaching, now holding out his hand for mine. “I have made you uncomfortable. All day?” Chanyeol is away from me, watching from outside his body as it attempts awkward contact with mine. “I was watching because you fascinate me.” I keep my arms rooted at my side, if I could wrap them around my person, comfort myself, or disappear into myself, I would.

As best as a tall and broad man can, Chanyeol shrinks himself before me, kneeling on his left knee before falling to the other. It’s a display, a situation I’ve never seen or been in before. Was he apologizing? “Oh, it’s okay-“

Chanyeol hangs his head gently, a chuckle on his lips. “Ro, hear me when I say my intention was only to learn you. What you like. How you do things. What makes you smile most and what turns your face up in that cute scrunched up almost piggy-like pout. I can’t help it, forgive me. You entrance me.” My head is spinning… maybe the room was spinning— the next thing I know I’m sitting on the bouncy and my date is kneeling by my lap, hands to himself. “May I ask you something before I tell you my answer?”

I know what he’s going to ask. It’s not the first time. I’m so used to these situations I had given up on dating entirely. The pity in their eyes after you tell them about the Trauma, about the pain. I’m no longer an individual but rather something fragile, almost childlike; someone to easily be manipulated. I can’t say I am ‘easy’ but I’m swayed if convinced enough. So eager to please. Even if I was healing, this was exhausting.

“Yes. All the time in fact. So often I had to get a socket reconstructed.” Chanyeol is slow to process my words. I should have waited for the question. “That’s why I’m nervous. I have no reason to be but I am. It’s been a long time since I’ve been alone with a man.”

“Why’d you come?” When I look down, shining brown eyes are looking back, “I never want you uncomfortable.”

“I assumed this is how you kpop stars do.” I can’t help but wonder if he knows just how breathtaking he can be. Even just sitting before me was adorable. Shaggy brown hair touching at his shoulders, a light pink dabbed over rounded cheeks, each beauty mark (but especially the one on the bridge of his nose) are charming me off the ledge. Slowly, unknowingly at first, I’m growing more comfortable. “But you said you don’t do this, so now I would like your answer. I came because I think you’re funny and kind. I wanted to get to know you better whatever the cost, I’m sorry.” I don’t know why I’m apologizing, neither does Chanyeol, who is smiling so softly, pity etched in umber irises. I felt so small even if I had to look down at him. This isn’t what I want. “But earlier—“ big cheeks drop, concern is all he can give me at this moment. I’m too unpredictable. “When you kissed me, I felt nothing.”

That doesn’t shock him, her who is standing to his full height and giggling his way to a cabinet in the kitchen. “Do you like white or red wine?” He knows the answer to this one, only does he ask to make obvious why he would go to the kitchen. He’s not gonna kill me, a simple drink order is all. He’s not mad we are meant to just be friends. What if he hates that idea though? “Here.” Chanyeol insists I open the bottle, another reassuring measure his brain must have cooked up. It’s working. I’m relaxing. Yet he is acting like I hadn’t rejected him, should I make myself more clear and high tail it down the hill and back on a plane? Would he search high and low for whispers on me? Panic is settling all around my ears, alarms blaring, his thin lips move and I can read them, but I can’t hear his voice at all. Curious.

Taking a steadying breath, “so if I tell you right now, I want to go home, home home, and never see you again?” I have to strain my eyes to read his words, a genuine yes, he even takes the wine bottle from my trembling hands and gathers my things. He’s halfway to the door when I hear a suitcase click, and then the ac unit, and some low electronic rumbling. Perhaps I can hear the rustling of birds outside, or some other animal lurking by. “I want to stay. Just. May I use the bathroom?”

“It’s negative twenty out. If you want to leave let me drive you.” It’s stern but not a command, like he’s inviting me to challenge him, like it’s a game for him.

I rise up to the occasion. “What makes you think I don’t have an escape plan?” At first, the joke was even morbid for me, I think it’s too far, this isn’t someone you just casually say to another human. Especially when they think you’re terrified of them.

Chanyeol surprises me again with a shrug. “Not practical enough your phone is in your bag by the door.”

“Lucky for you I just need to pee and recollect my thoughts.”

“I do my best thinking in the bathroom, go.”

The rest of the night isn’t nearly as uncomfortable. When he looks at me I’m not on display, but rather, there’s a look he gives me, one I’m well acquainted with. I hadn’t seen it in so long I had almost missed it. My dad used to look at me like this when I would bring him dinner after a long day at work. My mother would look at me like this after tucking me in at night. This very same look a man who was never this kind gave me. How do you differentiate between love and fiction? How do you know if the love that is there is made up of malicious intent or if you are soulmates?

It’s very late by the time Chanyeol announces there are three rooms in the house and that I can pick from any of them. He never intended we share a bed, something that shocks me yet again. Why bring me all the way to a cabin in the middle of the woods during winter? Is that not the point of cabin vacations? Cozying up to the one you love?

“You want to know what I think of you now?” My head had fallen prey to his strong shoulder, cheek squished on a bicep, a strong bicep. Shapely too. I wonder if he works out daily or just a few times a week. Humming for him to continue I stay in my musings, what a wonderfully sculpted man. “I think you’re weird as hell and you match me exactly.” Shifting so I can look at him incredulously, Chanyeol is carefully putting my face back in his hands. “That first kiss was just because I liked the way your lips moved when you said flower. Nothing more nothing less.” If this was a love confession it’s the cheesiest one I’ve heard. “I will not kiss you again until you let me. I need to hear you say, ‘Chanyeol, I want you to kiss me.’ And I will no hesitation. Because— while you might not feel anything, I feel everything for the both of us right now and it’s overwhelming. Tell me if or when you’re ready, for now I will shoulder the burden.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Mimicking his earlier sentence, my teeth poke out from my lips, I’m trying so hard to not laugh. “There’s no way in hell me saying ‘flower’ has any effect on you at all… see I just said it and you’re still there and I’m still here.” Chanyeol just watches, pressing his palms into my cheeks, he licks at his lips while watching mine. “Chanyeol… kiss me.” And he does, immediately pressing his lips to mine.

A star collapsing at seven solar masses doesn’t begin to compare. It’s almost criminal when he does it again to say goodnight. I lay away, heart in my throat, replaying all three kisses in my head like a giddy school aged kid with their first boyfriend. The first one: off guard and alarming. The second: spectacular and dawning. The third: nostalgic and longing.

Holding up my left hand I look at the word embedded on my ring finger; “pretty.” Plain, blockly black text mocks me. A friend of mine in high school had “your eyes- fuck, excuse me I’m sorry, your eyes are stunning, I’m Melo,” appear on my thigh during swim practice at pe junior year. All I get is “pretty”. A tried and true compliment but one I hear so often. One that is almost never accompanied by other nouns. “Pretty”.

Chanyeol called me pretty the moment we met. Out of breath and slightly dazed, his tongue twisted loops just to force out a measly “pretty.” I laughed of course, a famous man told me I was pretty, to which I complimented him back. He asked me on a date that minute and I said yes. He could be the one. The one whose handwriting is scrawled unceremoniously on my marriage hand. God is so funny like that sometimes. Kiss one, kiss two, and kiss three… I wonder if “your smile takes all the air out my lungs,” is neatly scribbled on his tanned skin somewhere, if that’s why we’re in a secluded cabin.

Mom told me not everyone finds the owner of the words, and not everyone ends up in love with the owner of the words. Some stay friends, some become enemies, others simply live life never searching. I remember the day mama’s words left her, she didn’t leave bed for a week. I never met the person, but daddy says she was kind, and the light of my mom's life. A part of me wishes the words would just leave me, but then I remember why words suddenly disappear and feel guilty. Searching for the owner of these words has placed me in vicarious situations, ones I almost never got out of. I should just give up. Who cares if kiss one wasn’t special, the other two still had me reeling. I’m so giddy, I can’t wait to see him in the morning, to speak with him all day, to kiss him goodnight again.

Soulmate or not, one thing is for sure, I am falling for Park Chanyeol.

[oifaaa]

This has definitely already been done by now but I don't care I'm excited for this movie

[samleewins]

Have another.

If this ends up popular as well I'll be making more.

[orlissa]

Hi,

It’s your friendly neighbor fanfic author here. In the light of this apparent new trend of people feeding unfinished fics to AI to get an “ending,” and some people even talking about “blanket permissions,” let me just say this:

I EXPLICITLY FORBID ANYONE TO FEED MY FICS TO AI. DUDE, THAT IS ABOUT THE LEAST RESPECTFUL THING YOU CAN DO. IF YOU DO IT, SHALL YOU BE EXCOMMUNICATED FROM YOUR FANDOM AND WALK ON LEGOS BAREFOOT TILL THE END OF DAYS.

That is my anti-permission.

Thank you for your attention.

[alisonzai]

[butt-lore]

Guitar

Words:265

Genre:fluff

Summary:he takes it everywhere—just like your love.

He never went anywhere without it. To the beach, the mountains, the living room, the studio… everywhere Park Chanyeol went, so did his guitar. He plays melancholy blues when he’s feeling somber, toned up jazz when his days are sunny, and then there’s the time he plays his love for you.

Never the same, always a new chord is strummed when he plays in bed, the neck of the instrument against his own to accommodate you at his side. The sounds coming from the bedroom spoke of woes. The moment you cross the threshold, however, something light comes from his fingers and he forgets whatever sorrow he picked from each string. Today it’s almost blindingly bright—his love—a cheery tone to match the beaming smile. He keeps his eyes closed but his dimple deepens when you automatically pick up the song with a hum.

He finishes his song to greet you. Gentle fingers remember the melody as he traps you between both large hands to smother you with kisses. The song carries into his voice, luring you down onto the mattress with him. He plays it again along your spinal cord, an itch he can’t quite seem to scratch. He reaches for the guitar again, the neck against his own to accommodate you at his side. That’s where you belong—he said so many years ago and it holds true till this day.

He takes that guitar everywhere, and with that comes along his emotions. He plays his love for you for hours but it’s never enough. That’s why he’ll never be caught without his precious guitar.

[butt-lore]

A little Tae

Late

Words:884

Rating:no rating but language and suggestive themes and a pussy eating joke.

Can be an ambiguous reader but it’s femme leaning.

Summary: you get anxious easily—and what better cure for anxiety than baking at 6 am?

He got home the same as always long after the sunsets and moon dipped dangerously low on the horizon. Taehyung showers, shaves, grumbles about the bags under his eyes twice, then stubs his toe. He wants to scream, but he breathes through the pain, looking back towards the bed he knows is occupied. Once he can see and wipes away his tears, he checks to make sure all the noise doesn’t disturb you.

Taehyung’s perplexed. Not that it’s late and you’re awake—he probably made more noise than intended the moment he walked into the quiet apartment. It’s the lack of you in his bed that bothers him. He checks the clock; six-thirty.

He gets his answer when he finds you in the kitchen, flour on the slate countertops and all over the band-tee you stole from his wardrobe. “Cookies?” He notes the chocolate chips to your right, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder when you jump at his voice. “What’s got you nervous?”

He knew you better than anyone these days. “I just woke up anxious.” You mutter, restarting your heart and frowning at the mess you created when he startled you. “Could you make more noise when you walk around? For a big guy you move like an assassin.”

“Guess you could call me that with the way I beat the p-“ you promptly shove a tasteful amount of cookie batter into his mouth. “Tastes weird without chocolate chips.” Taehyung heaves himself onto the counter, taking the offered mixing spoon from your hand. “Brownies too?” He looks over to the waiting tray of brownie batter on the stove. “Something happened. What’s up?” He still digs into the brief snack you gave him, loving the way you watch him for approval. He nods and you start to add the chocolate chips slowly.

You don’t have an answer for him yet. You’re still formulating the conversation over in your head. “Just as I said: I woke up like this.”

Taehyung frowns but doesn’t persuade you further by conventional thinking. “Cinnamon rolls this morning and bread just about all day. Where did the sourdough head off too, I wonder?” Rather than that, he talks around you. Annoying you into talking about your feelings always worked. “Ah, and yesterday! I’ve never seen so many cupcakes. My friends were appreciative. Lord knows we can’t eat thirty-seven cupcakes.”

You scoop the dough out evenly, debating on which tray of dessert you’d start first. “I’m surprised you walked right by the kitchen.” You hum, deciding the cookies would be faster and setting the oven to three-fifty. “You must be very tired.” You stop what you’re doing to cup his face and lean in for a brief kiss. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you, my little baker. The day before was what?” He tries again, commending you silently on your dedication to ignoring him. “Right, right, sweet buns. So many sweet buns. So many flavors too.”

“Alright, jeez.” You hold up your hands in mock surrender. “I haven’t gotten my period.”

“Try again.”

“I am on a new diet.”

“One more time.”

“Meeting your parents was one thing. I love meeting parents. I’m a catch.” You shoot off, the quicker the better in your eyes. Taehyung watches, focusing on your now broken Korean. “I don’t want your friends to hate me? I know they’re your world and I am excited you’re excited that I’m meeting them but I hate social situations and everyone I know will be you, so what if I come off clingy and needy? I just-“he doesn’t stop you. Taehyung sits and nods while his wide eyes show a softness still too shy of adoring. “What if they hate me?”

Taehyung wants to laugh. Your insecurities about his friends are a recurring theme of the month since he announced he’d like for you all to go out soon. No matter how many times he assures you, you end up back in his kitchen, knee-deep in a new dish. “They don’t. In fact, where do you think your nervous baking goes? I can’t eat sweets all the time, love.” He doesn’t allow himself to chuckle when your frown deepens. “Love, look at me.” His large hand cups your cheek and his thumb strokes your face lovingly. “They are so excited to meet the person I’ve given my heart to; they are too focused on embarrassing stories about me to bring up naturally than they are about grilling you. They’re not focused on hating you. They already love you. Breathe.” He takes a breath with you, demonstrating that you were, in fact, hyperventilating. “There you go. That’s my baby. If you want, we can reschedule?”

“No. I mentally prepared for this day. I can do it.” You’re telling yourself more than him, but you both are vaguely aware you can and will get through. He never let you go at it alone before. He wasn’t about to start now. “I just also need to make a batch of snickerdoodles-“

“No.” He pulls you from the kitchen, making sure nothing is on or burning. “You can finish when you wake up.”

“I can finish now.” You fight, but he’s already hoisting you over his shoulder, effortless as always. “If you insist on burning energy, however,” he playfully grabs onto your butt, making you both laugh. “Bed, then you can finish.”

“My batter though?” Tiny, almost like a plea, your mouth moves past the enormous yawn. “It will go bad.”

“I’ll put it away.” And he would. He always did.

[vivian-is-writing-deactivated20]

Yeah, I write.

Waste

Really

Important

Time

Expecting words to magically appear on the page

[casgirl]

There will never be a tiktok as good as this one I think about it all the time it is VISCERAL

[gingerswagfreckles]

[some-guy-161]

[writing-prompt-s]

As a survivor during a zombie apocalypse, you’re unwillingly being protected by a vampire coven because you’re their only sustainable food source for miles around.

[batfamfucker]

We don’t appreciate the fact that Bruce Wayne is a Kardasian level celebrity enough. Everyone knows him. I want more one shots and crack fic moments where the League (Pre identity reveals) just openly talk about Bruce Wayne in front of Batman.

Just imagine them playing fuck, marry, kill with famous actors and such and throwing Bruce into the mix. And Batman just sits there, silently suffering as he listens to the reasons why Flash and Lantern would marry, fuck, or kill him. He prays they choose kill. They don’t.

[batfamfucker]

Barry: Eat the rich!

Bruce: Oh thank Go-

Clark: Oh, I intend to 🥴🥵

[batfamfucker]

[whispering-imp]

It’s Batman’s turn. Bruce needs to decide whether to marry himself for the money or throw himself off the cliff.

[primeemeraldheiress]

Okay but can you imagine what kind of identity reveal situation that would be?

“I would fuck —-, I would marry —-, and then I would commit suicide.”

“Batman, that’s not how the game is played. You have to choose for Bruce Wayne.”

“I did.”

“…WHAT?!”

[lynati]

“I would kill Bruce Wayne just to get him out of this conversation.”

[aqueerkettleofish]

This works best if the reveal comes after literally everyone else has played, and half of the people have said “I’d marry Bruce Wayne for the money” and the other half have not only said that they’d fuck him, but been reasonably graphic as to how.

[althor42]

Flash: So, tall, dark, and scary, what’ll it be? Are you going to marry Bruce Wayne so he can fund all of your sick gadgets? Maybe you’ll be a gentle lover to him like Aquaman here, work him over like a hunk of meat like Supes? Or maybe Brucie is the one person in the world you break your code for. Come on, what’ve you got for us?

Batman: -pauses- Honestly, I don’t think there will ever be a better time for this. -pulls off his cowl-

Justice League: -horrified screeching-

[weltenwellen]

Louise Glück, from “Mutable Earth”, Poems 1962-2012

[kaexloey-deactivated20230418]

T R U S T me • masterlist

moodboard: arrangement @kaexloey • photo cred to all OPs, do not repost.

Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Smut

Pairings: Park Chanyeol x femOC!reader (Jade), Kim Jongin (Kai) x femOC!reader (Jade)

Rated: M, 18+

Warnings: Physical and Emotional Abuse, Violence, Slow Burn, Sexual Themes, Language

Summary: Helping your best friend, Lay, set up an extension of his producing company in Los Angeles is the perfect project to finally get your design firm off the ground. When Lay decides to bring on his handsome and talented friend as a business partner, trust issues begin to arise between you and your long-term boyfriend.

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

PART 7

PART 8

PART 9 [final]

A/N: This is my first fanfic series! Let me know if you’d like to be in the taglist in a reblog, comment, or DM!

[kaexloey-deactivated20230418]

T R U S T me • masterlist

moodboard: arrangement @kaexloey • photo cred to all OPs, do not repost.

Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Smut

Pairings: Park Chanyeol x femOC!reader (Jade), Kim Jongin (Kai) x femOC!reader (Jade)

Rated: M, 18+

Warnings: Physical and Emotional Abuse, Violence, Slow Burn, Sexual Themes, Language

Summary: Helping your best friend, Lay, set up an extension of his producing company in Los Angeles is the perfect project to finally get your design firm off the ground. When Lay decides to bring on his handsome and talented friend as a business partner, trust issues begin to arise between you and your long-term boyfriend.

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

PART 7

PART 8

PART 9 [final]

A/N: This is my first fanfic series! Let me know if you’d like to be in the taglist in a reblog, comment, or DM!

[ampervadasz]

Ügyes !

[butt-lore]

One of y’all tell me. Is my story satisfied edited at all? I have two whole versions of this story as it started out a Tae fic and it progressed to Yeol almost immediately. Actually I have three. One that’s Tae, one that’s posted here I hope, and one that is a grotesque mixture of the two. Like BAD BAD mixture. I always wanna check and read it but I know I’ll delete it if I read it. I tend to edit four days after then post, but sometimes I do not post the correct versions 😭😭😭 I had to delete a dongjun fic awhile back and haven’t gotten back to editing the mistakes (writing for another ship and changing it is my worst habit)

Mmmm new fics aren’t abundant I’m working on a commission like project rn and school keep all my braincells so sorry if you’re waiting on more writing. I have an that dongjun one I will eventually repost, that got like two notes so I’m very sorry to those two (?) people 😭

[euphoricsunflowers]

feel good — chae hyungwon

request: Can I get a lil jealous Hyungwon with female reader? The genre of the fic is up to you, if you want to make it smutty okay if you want it fluffy okay if you want angst it's okay too lol~ I just love your works jesus - 🖤 anon

a/n: do i know that this is actually a sad revenge song? yes am i gonna use it in a sadism fic? you bet ur ass i am

word count: 0.9k

content: sub!hyungwon, dom!gn!reader, sadism/masochism, bondage with a belt, mentions of fuckin him but it’s at the very end i didn’t wanna write the full scene so you just get this instead <3

warning: please be careful when tying up your partner/being tied up and make sure to do it in a safe way. this fic does not depict a safe way to practice bondage, it’s just a fantasy, so please educate yourself and be safe.

summary: i want to dye you more black, cold frozen looks good on you, i want to hurt you, my heart is twisted, like it's crazy

his eyes stare so intently at the ceiling as you shower, he’s only in his boxers, but his mind is elsewhere. he can’t imagine what it’s like to not be here, in this hotel room with you, so far away and lonely from the world, and he can’t tell whether or not that’s a good thing. he didn’t like the way they looked at you, and maybe that caused him to do some... not so good things, but he knew this wasn’t even going to be a punishment. he likes it when you’re cruel.

he knows he enjoys you, enjoys your company and your sickly sweet smile, but you’re a curse just as much as you’re a blessing. his fingers tremble as he rubs in arms in the most self soothing way possible, breathing raggedly.

he can see you step out of the bathroom out of the corner of his eye, sultry in the way you lean against the doorframe. you murmur his name softly, and he finally meets your gaze fully, “we should order room service.”

“alright,” he responds with that shaky voice, but the conversation stalls. the atmosphere is strangely awkward, “are you waiting for me to—?”

“no, i’m just thinking,” you smile teasingly, looking away to nowhere specific before looking back at him, “you’re cute when you’re nervous,” he gulps as you walk closer towards the bed, where he laid waiting. he sits up on the edge of the bed, looking up at you as you stand right before him as he sits right before you, and you pull from the back of his neck to tug him closer. you down at him with a smirk, leaning in closer to whisper in his ear, “you should be careful, hyungwon, you know i’m not nice.”

of course he knows that, because you warn him every time that you’re not going to be gentle with him, and every time he says the same thing, “that’s what i want. don’t be nice to me.”

and you always seem to enjoy that line from him. you pull him up to meet him in a kiss, so firey and full of tension. his hands immediately reach for your waist, pulling you close. you pull away just as he starts to lose himself in the kiss. he goes to question you, but when you pull the belt off his jeans that were on the floor, he knows immediately what you want. you grab both of his wrists and turn him around all in one quick, overwhelming motion.

“this is what you want, right?” you echo the words he said previously, and he has no choice but to nod, “that’s right, baby, you love it.” you turn him back around, and resume kissing. your tounge drags along his neck, the feeling of it making him groan. he feels so perfectly dirty like this.

your fingertips squeeze his nipple suddenly, and he shrieks, stumbling out of your grasp, falling back onto the bed. you laugh at his reaction, but when he collects himself, he begs lowly, under his breath, “do it again please, do it again.”

you chuckle as you crawl closer to him, stroking his cheek with a faux sweetness, before slapping him. his head lingers for a moment before he goes back to looking you in the eye, silent but it’s like he’s saying ‘is that all you’ve got?’ with his eyes.

“more, more, hurt me more,” he mumbles, and you’re honestly happy to fulfill the request, even if it feels like a demand.

“watch your mouth, baby,” you smirk, before you lean in to kiss his neck, biting when you’ve found a good spot to mark him up. he always whines so prettily like this. your hands, now free, also play with his chest, twisting and tugging at his nipples whenever it sounds like he’s gotten too comfortable.

he moans loudly in pain when you slap the inside of his thigh harshly, leaving a red handprint where your hand once was. he’s just so pretty when he’s trembling. is it fear? anticipation? does it even matter when it feels so amazing to feel the stinging in your hand and know it’s even worse?

you hit and slap and choke him viscously, roughly, like you were trying to break him and shatter him into pieces. in fact, that was exactly what you were trying to do. it’s such an incredible feeling to hurt him, knowing he’s aching and close to crying, but he just lets you do as you please.

it doesn’t even look like he could hear you right now, much less talk from how much noise he was making, muffling his voice with a pillow so you both don’t get a notice complaint from the people in the room next door.

“please,” he mumbles, voice cracking, breaking from all his shouts and yells and cries, “please fuck me.”

you pout in a fake sympathy, gripping his jaw with your hand so he’s forced to look you in the eyes, “i’m sorry, baby, you wanna get fucked? you want me to fuck you so hard and roughly you see stars? make you cum again and again until you physically give out?” he groans, nodding despite your grasp, and you release his jaw, leaning in to whisper again, knowing your breath against his hear makes him shiver, “then i guess we have a long night ahead of us, don’t we?”

—

i don't know why i’m smiling the more i mess you up

why can't i stop the more you're hurt?

—

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