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secretgwenstacy · 9 months ago

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To the Author: I know that you are on hiatus currently because of the stresses of being an author on this site. I completely understand why and I am so sorry that creating/writing has started to become hard for you. I'm a newer reader of yours so we aren't very acquainted but everything that I have read of yours so far I have enjoyed. I don't have a big account or medium size account so I don't understand exactly the pressures of running a fan fiction account. Especially one where there is a lot of followers (i obviously don't know your followers count but i'm guessing its decent) but one thing I do understand is burnout when it comes to art. In a way being a writer for fan fiction is an art form. That may sound crazy but let me explain. Art is something that comes from passion the same as art so, fan fictions are basically passion projects and sometimes can be categorized as art.

How I know about burnout with art is because I am an artist. When I was 18 I went to a university to study visual art because it was passion. I did really well in the first semester but I kept noticing the further I got the more drop outs there were in the art program. Then it very quickly came to my attention just why that was. The number one reason kids where dropping out was from the overwhelming pressures of being forced to take something that is a passion of theirs and then turn around and expected to heavily produce. It was hard on everybody but for some it kinda ruined creating for them. It's like putting all of your creativity or passion for something in sponge and then just endlessly squeezing without ever releasing. I can see how writing would be the same, especially if it's on a platform like this.

Now I don't know if you are experiencing that or even if that example rings true with you. I know you mentioned (and a lot of other writers have too) the lack of reblogs or even encouragement on this site as a big portion of your hiatus. Which again I just want to to say i'm so sorry for. To create something from the heart with little to no encouragement or reach must be crushing as well as frustrating. I know we don't know each other like this so i'm sorry if this letter(?) seems out of the blue or weird that wasn't my intentions. I just saw your post about your hiatus and I had this fic on my reblog list (sorry its late and also it was such a good read!) and just kinda wanted to reach out. So that being said I want to thank you as one of your readers for writing for us and I also want to wish you a healing hiatus. I hope it is good to you and I don't know if it's something you want but i also hope that it can help you regain something you once were passionate about (if you want that, that is). So thank you and I wish you well!

satin ➵ jacob bae

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

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

word count ➵ 4.1k words

taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @mosviqu @vernyangel @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays

a/n ➵ did i write this the night before my flight and the two plane rides? yes. i had to get it out. also, i think this horny thought caused my period to come early T__T anyway... shoutout to @kimsohn and @juyeonszn for being my crazy horny bffs... sliding this to some cobie lovers... @sungbeam @snowflakewhispers <3 don't forget to reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

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

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

“Daddy, one more!”

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

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

Well, sort of.

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

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

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

He chuckles at her compliment. “Thank you. You have a good eye for fashion.”

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

Maybe you needed to get out of bed.

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

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

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

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

“God, I have a bird's nest.”

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

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

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

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

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

Then, your eyes rest on the man who stands beside you, still tied up in ribbons. Your free hand trails over where they rest—hair, forearms, waist to name a few.

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

“Where should I put this one, honey?”

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

“What about the neck? Like a necklace!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy?” Your daughter looks up at her father who halted his actions.

“What's wrong?” The question leaves your mouth, the playful tone that clings onto your words fails to make sense to her but has Jacob growing annoyed.

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

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

Thanks to the distance, it’s easy to hear his exhales—his sounds. His shoulders move along with them; heavy, deep, desperate.

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

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

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

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

“And done!”

He quickly moves, dragging your daughter along. Your gaze now lands back to your reflection, a pout now resting on your lips.

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

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

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

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

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

You gulp down nothing. “W—what do you mean?”

“Don’t play games with me, baby.”

There’s the Jacob you know. Satisfaction paints his features; a smirk with eyes that flicker down occasionally to your lips. And when you feel his grip tighten around your waist, air is knocked out of your lungs.

He leans forward, as if distance needs to be closed, but his lips never touch yours. “Baby, baby, baby,” he says with such care, and yet…

“You know what you did. Just say it.”

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

You part away, leaning your forehead on his. Your fingers find their way to the bow that rests around his neck, fiddling with the ends of your masterpiece.

“You need to bring her to school,” you whisper words he doesn’t want to hear. All he wants is an apology—an explanation—for your behavior this morning, but you don’t give in.

So he rolls his eyes, a chuckle leaving him before he lets go of your waist. “I’ll see you later.”

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

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

“I can hear you laughing!”

You roll your eyes at his comment. “Just go!”

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

If you were expecting anything good, then you are absolutely wrong. (Well, that’s a lie. You were hoping for something, but you weren’t expecting this.)

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

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

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

You peel your eyes open, greeted by the sight of Jacob wrapped in satin. Your gaze trails to where the ribbons rest—some threatening to fall off of him while others still making sure his skin, his muscles, spill out.

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

His hands rest on the space around you and his legs cage you down, restricting you from any movement like you did with him. You’re lightheaded, maybe from lip locking, the position you’re in, or even from the sight of your husband. And with your heavy breaths, a smug grin takes over Jacob’s face. His hand tugs on the loose satin around his waist. It falls to your stomach, letting his shirt cling less to his torso.

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

A grunt leaves you.

He grabs the ribbon, fingers fiddling as he figures out what to do with you. “Don’t you think it’s only fair that I have my time with you? My fun with you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You catch his lips, arms wrapping around his neck as you pull him close. He moves one knee in between your legs, letting you grind your clothed slit against his thigh, as his hands find themselves on your tits. Fingertips flick against your nipples, causing a moan to escape you.

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

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

You shake your head. “Just right.”

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

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

“Jacob, please.”

He hums. “‘Please’ what, darling?”

“Remove your clothes.”

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

A groan rips out of your throat. You hate Jacob.

His hands brush against your upper thigh, tying a ribbon around it. When he finishes, his hand lingers, teasing you with the short distance between him and your slit.

You’re about to curse at him until you watch him slowly move down, and his face is closer to your pussy than his hand. He breathes you in and a groan rips out. “God, you smell delicious.”

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

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

When you try to look down at him, his eyes are already on you. The eye contact knocks the air out of your lungs. When his hand reaches to the bow that rests on your thigh, fingers playing with pink satin, you throw your head back.

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

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

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

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

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

He moves your restrained wrists away and reaches for your lips with his; the taste of you still lingers on his lips. He sucks on your bottom lip, causing a whine to leave you.

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

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

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

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

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

“J-Jacob, I don’t—”

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

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

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

You’re close, short rapid breaths escape you as you clench tighter around his digits, until his fingers leave you. It’s almost like he knew you were close.

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

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

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

“Fuck you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he starts to pick up the pace, causing you to let out a series of moans. “God, you just want to be filled with my cum, don’t you? Wouldn’t you love that? Just us trying again, again, again, for another baby, me filling you with cum.”

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

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

“Fuck, I’m close—”

“Come for me. Do it, baby,” he chants such words. “I’m going to come. Going to fill you up, going to impregnate you.” He keeps going at such a fast pace, and his words do nothing but help you get close. “And we’ll keep going baby, going to make sure you’re filled with so much cum that I’ll have to plug my fingers to keep it in.”

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

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

The rubber band snaps. You clench around his cock as you come, a long moan leaving you. And with how you clench around Jacob has him coming with you, his cum filling you up.

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

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

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

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

“Does it hurt?”

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

He chuckles before meeting your lips once more. Once he parts away, he takes in the sight of you in your fucked-out state dressed in pink ribbons that were once wrapped around him. His heart grows warm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

“I know you might not—wait, really?”

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

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

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

God, you need to buy more ribbons for your daughter. (And for you and Jacob, of course.)

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