#I am SO excited to get back to this one!!!

[tusswrites]

Rockabye Baby (j.ww)

Wonwoo x fem!Reader

"First-time dad Wonwoo trying to navigate the ropes of parenting while missing you"

genre: fluff, humor; rating : 16+ word count: 2.1k warnings: none! credits: the littol menace @svtiddiess for helping me with the banner and beta reading author's note: this is set in the same universe as 'Bun In The Oven', but it can be read independently. written from wonwoo's pov! send an ask to be added to the tag list (better see an age in the bio)! tagging : @jenoslutie, @chugging-antiseptic-dye, @gyubakeries , @skzbangchanniee, @ariananotgrandeee, @wonufos masterlist here, domestic seventeen masterlist here

If at first he fainted upon hearing the news of the soon-to-be arrival of his offspring, he is now beyond frantic, doom scrolling in the wee hours of the morning on Reddit through multiple ‘First Time Dad’ posts. When he thinks Y/N can’t hear him, he lifts her shirt and begins to talk to his baby, he cannot be caught alive thinking he believes that shit and lose his ‘macho man’ facade. All lies, Y/N can never sleep at night, and is desperately holding her giggles at her husband’s constant whining to their baby about how mean their mom is to him. 

His aunt has given him some herbal medicine that runs in the family, vital for new mothers and despite Y/N’s bemoaning, he holds her by the neck and forces that ‘disgusting shit’ down her throat. ‘It’s for the baby Y/N’ he reminds her for the umpteenth time although he gags a little at the odd smell, that stuff is not for him, no thank you. 

At work, he is frantic, nervous, and excited all in one. When Jeonghan caught him tearing up at the back of the makeup room, rocking himself, arms tightly wound around, trying to stop his steady flow of tears, he finally confesses that he doesn’t think he will be a good father. “I never cared for children much hyung, I don’t think I have those paternal instincts to look after a newborn. I am scared I will run out on my child.” He sobs into his hyung’s arms who holds him tight and consoles him.

 “When the little one comes, you will forget all your fears. You’re not the type of person to give up on something you care about, especially not your child.” Jeonghan rubs his back gently, trying to soothe his distress. “You may not feel ready now, but you’ll rise to the occasion. Every parent has doubts, and that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’re not going to be an amazing dad. You’ll figure it out as you go, and your love for your child will guide you through it.”

 Wonwoo freaks out when his wife thinks she is some sort of daredevil, trying to climb on the countertop to grab a jar. “Are you crazy?” he shrieks out.

“I can’t always keep asking you to attend to every beck and call of mine. Besides, it’s not that high,” you try to reason with him, but he has no chill, pushing you gently toward the bedroom and getting you back in bed, propping your feet up on the extra set of cushions he ordered from Amazon just for you.

“I don’t care,” he counters firmly. “Until you pop out that baby, you are on lockdown. No leaving the bed, and absolutely no scaling countertops for a mason jar of pickles. I’ll get it for you—just call me. That’s why I took time off, so you don’t have to risk anything, especially not now,” he says, his voice steady but laced with concern. He smooths the blanket over you, making sure you're comfortable before settling beside you with a deep sigh.

It seems the baby isn’t the only thing he’s freaking out about—he’s also on high alert to make sure you’re okay, every step of the way. Why must you do dangerous acts this far in your pregnancy?

“I am pregnant Wonwoo, I can still walk and do things, ‘m not a doll.”

“Never said you can’t do things, baby,” he says softly, smoothing the crease in your brow with a gentle peck. “It’s just to reassure me, for my peace of mind. I don’t want you pulling any stuntwoman moves just days before Little Bun gets here. So please, for me, at least?”

He looks at you with those pleading eyes, the ones that always seem to get to you. Till the baby comes, he’s hopefully the cutest person you’ve ever seen, the one you can never say no to.

“Fine.” You huff out. “But grab me a jar of mayonnaise to go with the pickles.”

“Mayo-? With pickles? H-ho?” he sputters, absolutely stumped at your taste buds.

“Is there a problem Mr Jeon?” your brow is quirked, amusedly staring at your befuddled husband's face.

“No, no, stay right there. Mayonnaise with pickles coming right up,” he says, still in shock, but resigned. He silently prays that Little Bun arrives quickly, before his wife loses herself in yet another round of bizarre food combinations.

“And sprinkles too!” you holler from the bedroom, your voice carrying.

“Lord, give me strength,” Wonwoo mutters to himself, shaking his head as he makes his way to the kitchen, shuddering at the disgusting combo.

The day of your labor arrived very anticlimactically, if Wonwoo could call it that. There was no sudden gush of water, no dramatic screams or threats hurled at him. Just a quiet morning, like any other day. If not for him glued to your side, he daresay he might have missed it altogether. The moment you felt discomfort, he was already rushing you to the ER, completely ignoring your reassurances that it was just a false alarm.

He probably needed to celebrate this victory with a cake that said, “I Told You So,” because, yes, he was right—the little one did arrive that very day, though not without a few bumps along the way. None of the dad books had prepared him for the fact that the scrubs handed to him in the labor room were supposed to go over his clothes. After a certain amount of confused stripping, a shrieking nurse, and a hollering wife, he learned a very important lesson. There can only be one naked person in the OR—and that person was definitely not him.

The jitters came when his daughter came into the world, unperturbed and squinting angrily at him, like she didn’t want to be there. He can pity her sentiments. But the baby was not crying. Sure she was breathing, but where is that high-pitched wail the books taught him?

No amount of parenting manuals could prepare him for this moment, to see his little one clutching tightly to his pinky finger, staring at him with your eyes and his nose, and the feeling of love encompasses him. Is this someone he created? He holds you extra close, trying to hold the tears at bay. Gratitude, pure and raw, fills him—thankful for you, for this little one, for the family he has.

Some sort of humor is brought in by his mate Soonyoung who arrives at the hospital, all ready to see the newborn in a new tuxedo to make ‘ a good impression’ “This is a baby Soonie”. “First impressions matter Won-Won.” He leaves it at that, knowing deep down his mate's plan was to bag the ‘best uncle’ title.

It’s never without its mishaps however- he cannot understand the hospital staff when they give him the green light that it's time to go home. 

“Are you sure?” He persistently asks, there is no way he can ensure the safety of a being that came into the world just a few hours ago and now he is entrusted to make sure this thing is alive and flourish. What are they thinking?

Seeing that familiar tick of annoyance on your face, he supposes he has been asking that question way too many times and reluctantly picks up the baby carrier, although he is scared shitless, out of his mind with fear. He does not want to place the baby in a car seat, to your utter confusion.

“She was slimy and squiggly, what if she slid right out? He ponders. 

Assuring him that the baby will be “fine and protected,” and to further calm his nerves, you sit in the backseat too, keeping a watchful eye on your little one as Wonwoo starts the engine for the long drive home. He is not the only first-time parent here.

It took a whole day and a half before the secret was out in the open. “Wonwoo, I need to grab a bite, here hold Nabi for a second.” You hold the child in mid-air expectantly waiting for her father to pick her up.

“Just place her in the crib, she's safer there.” 

“Wons, that’s in the other room, what are you so afraid of holding your child?”

He waits for the realization to dawn on you. “Wait a minute, have you held her even once?”

“I brought her here in a baby carrier?”

I meant holding her Wonwoo, not in a carrier or rocking the crib.”

His guilty face speaks enough. “She’s just so tiny Y/N! And her head is wobbly. What if I drop her?” Why can’t you understand his sentiment? He will move heaven and earth for his daughter except maybe hold her and risk dropping her.

"Wonwoo, you're not going to drop her. Babies are fragile, but you're not going to break her just by holding her," you explain, taking a deep breath to stay patient with his nerves. You reach out, gently placing your hands on his shoulders, making him look at you. “Extend your arms”

He does, in slight trepidation.

“Wonwoo, Nabi is a full-grown newborn now, not a watermelon! Seriously, how small do you think she is? A little bigger gap won't hurt. Just trust yourself," you soothe, noticing his hesitation. 

Very gently, you place the tiny baby into his arms, and he holds his breath, afraid that if he so much as breathes, Nabi will blow away. This time, he cannot stop the tears that fall freely, privileged at the fact that she made him a father.

Yes, he knew about the lack of sleep and the constant need to change his baby. But what he did not know was that he would miss you this much. Around the clock, you both took shifts to watch the baby and rock the baby to sleep.But nothing prepared him for how much he’d miss you. The number of times he’s woken up in a state of panic because you weren’t there when he felt around to bring you closer and into his arms, only to be comforted when he switches on the night lamp and watches you half asleep, feeding his little girl. On tiptoes, he’ll pick his daughter up, the little gremlin who’s staring wide-eyed at him, and walk around the room with her, to give you a moment to rest. When you wake up in pursuit of your husband and child you see a snoring Wonwoo, holding little Nabi to his chest, both blissfully unaware of the mini heart attack they’d given you. 

Wonwoo has come to the conclusion that it's in those little moments—those quiet, fleeting moments—when he gets to have you all to himself. Three months after Nabi's arrival, he finally gets a taste of that luxury, when the little one is fast asleep, her soft breaths the only sound filling the room. Nabi is finally sticking to sleeping through the night, after listening to his fathers croons. When he returns to the living room, he finds you slumped against the couch, utterly exhausted. Your hair is stuck to your forehead, and the exhaustion is clear on your face, but there's something else there too—a quiet peace that tells him the chaos of midnight feedings and diaper changes has finally settled into a rhythm... for now. He’s not going to jinx it.

Silently moving you, hushing down your sleepy murmurs, gently lifting you, and placing you against his chest, he starts to rub your head in hopes you get back to sleep, a trick he learned early on to calm his daughter down. In this quiet, he can finally hear himself think, something he has never been able to do the past few months. His heart still thumps excitedly like it did the first time he laid eyes on you. To watch as the girl he once fell for, eons ago is now his wife and he gets to share a child with you, with the promise of having eternity by your side, he sleeps easy tonight, murmuring a quick ‘I love you’ and thank you’ as he places one more soft kiss on your cheek, forever elated that you’re his.

Alas, rest is not for the wicked. A sudden phone call on his cell has you both startled and wide awake as you rush to silence his phone.

“Why is it not on vibrate Wonwoo?” You start, angrily scrambling to sit on the phone in hopes of shutting it off, all rationality flying out the window in your sleep-deprived state.

“Shh, Nabi has still not woken up, which means she probably didn’t hear the phone ring,” he whispers as you both hold hands and painstakingly wait in agony for the jurisdiction of your child’s wailing. You are in luck, after all, she has still not woken up.

A glance at his phone has him jump up excitedly, “Yes, I won the bet to Mingyu, he owes me two tickets to see IU next month.” Unfortunately for him, his enthusiasm runs short tonight, for there comes the familiar cry from your baby’s room and a murderous look from you. “JEON WONWOO”

Uh.Oh.

Reblog, comment to share your thoughts! Goes a long way!

[jhyoos]

Off Limits

chapter one : cold hearted snake

soccer player vi x talis reader

mentions : player vi, besti ekko, romance, lesbianism, modern au, college au, drama, abby tlou, ellie tlou, cheerleader reader, mention of sex, mentions of overdosing

notes: semi long chapter so get some snacks, turn your fan on and rub your feet together

edit: i ended up changing nyu to asu (arcane state university)

"Jayce… don’t piss me off," you mumbled groggily, swatting at the air as you turned away from the light creeping in through the curtains. Your brother had this awful habit of waking you up early, and this time, it was no different. You groaned as you felt the edge of his foot on your nightstand, a clear sign that he wasn’t planning to leave until you gave him the attention he craved.

"Please, sis. Just tell me if they go good with my outfit. It's my junior year. I gotta look fresh," Jayce said, his voice high-pitched and over-the-top, just the way it always was when he was seeking validation.

You blinked open one eye, then the other, squinting up at him. The sight of his goofy grin—complete with his messy hair—did nothing to help the headache that was already forming. He was holding a pair of sneakers in one hand, his new must-have shoes for the school year.

You rubbed your eyes and sighed, giving him the most unimpressed look you could muster. "Yeah, Jayce. You look good," you said flatly, trying to roll over and go back to sleep.

But Jayce, of course, wasn’t done. He let out an exaggerated sigh and plopped down on the edge of your bed, his body taking up far too much space. "Don’t go back to sleep, c’mon! It’s your first day here at ASU. You gotta make a statement," he said, wiggling his eyebrows, clearly proud of his well-meaning, annoying attempt to motivate you.

You cracked open an eye again, giving him a deadpan stare. "I don’t want to hear it, Jayce. You’re lucky I’m even awake right now."

Jayce chuckled, nudging you lightly with his foot. "Get up, you lazy bum. I need to know if this shirt works with my new kicks or not. It’s important!"

You sighed, sitting up slowly, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Looking at him—his eager face, his ridiculous outfit—wasn’t helping your mood. You glanced at his sneakers, then his shirt, then his whole vibe. Jayce looked like he was trying way too hard to impress everyone on his first day back. He had his typical “I’m cool” swagger on display, and you weren’t sure if you should laugh or just roll your eyes harder.

"Yeah, Jayce. You look good," you muttered, not really caring but knowing that was the answer he wanted to hear.

Jayce leaned in closer, his face inches from yours, all dramatic as he asked, "Really? I mean, really? You sure about that? ‘Cause I need you to be my fashion consultant today."

You shook your head, not even bothering to reply to his antics. You were too tired for this. But he wasn’t backing down. He was, after all, Jayce—a master at annoying people to no end.

"Don’t make me get Mom on the phone, you know she’s got the best opinions," he teased, but you could hear the hint of excitement in his voice. He wasn’t just annoying you for attention; he genuinely seemed to need your approval.

You shot him a glare. "If you don’t stop, I’ll tell Mom you’ve been wearing the same pair of socks for two days."

Jayce’s grin faltered, just for a second, before he playfully shoved your shoulder. "Low blow, sis. Low blow."

Finally, you could hear him sigh in defeat. "Fine. I’m leaving, I’m leaving. Get up, though! Or I swear, I’ll drag you out of bed myself."

You stared at him as he got up and headed toward the door, but not without another remark. "Oh, and don't even think about that raggedy bus today. We’re taking my car. And you're making a statement whether you like it or not."

The door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment, there was silence—glorious silence.

You glanced at the time on your phone. 5:47 AM. With a groan, you threw the covers off and rolled out of bed.

The thought of the first day at ASU made your stomach churn with nerves, but you couldn't show it. Not after all the teasing and endless talk of “making a statement” from your brother. You needed to at least pretend like you had it all together. So, with a loud sigh, you shuffled into the bathroom for a shower, hoping the cold water would wake you up enough to deal with the day ahead.

As you stood under the stream of water, you tried to clear your head. You'd never been one for drama, but here you were, starting college at one of the most prestigious schools in the country. It was supposed to be exciting. New people, new opportunities, new everything. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into something much bigger than you were ready for.

Still, there was no turning back now.

You had spent your freshman and sophomore years in Italy, a place you quickly grew to love. It was a dream come true—walking cobblestone streets, sipping espresso in tiny cafes, and studying architecture and art history in a country that felt alive with culture and tradition. At first, you were nervous about being so far from home, but Italy embraced you with open arms, and soon, it felt more like home than your actual home ever had.

The plan had been simple: you would study abroad, and Jayce would come with you. Your mom had made it clear that he had the option to join you. “Think about it,” your mom had said, “two years of sibling bonding while experiencing a whole new world.” But, of course, Jayce had shrugged it off.

"Pass," he'd said without hesitation. "All my friends are here. Plus, who's gonna keep the soccer team alive without me?"

You’d rolled your eyes when he said it, but deep down, his refusal stung. He didn’t even consider it. And as much as you hated to admit it, part of you had wanted him there. Sure, he was annoying and constantly in your space, but he was also your big brother—the one who always knew how to make you laugh when you were stressed, the one who looked out for you when no one else did. Without him, you felt a little more alone than you were ready to admit.

But Italy had been a journey all its own. You’d found your rhythm there, made lifelong friends, and grown in ways you never expected. You learned to navigate bustling markets in Florence, spent lazy afternoons sketching by the canals in Venice, and even picked up enough Italian to argue with locals over gelato flavors. It wasn’t just a study abroad experience; it was a transformation.

Then, two years flew by faster than you thought they would. And just like that, it was time to say goodbye to everything you’d built in Italy. The narrow alleyways you knew like the back of your hand, the corner cafe where the barista always greeted you with a warm "Ciao, bella," and the friends who had become family. It wasn’t easy leaving it all behind, but the opportunity to finish your degree at home on a full-ride scholarship was too good to pass up.

There was one silver lining to returning home: Ekko. Your best friend since middle school. He’d been the one constant in your life before you left for Italy, and as much as you loved your new friends abroad, no one quite compared to Ekko. He was like a brother to you, but cooler than Jayce ever could be—not that you’d ever tell Jayce that to his face.

Ekko was in ASU with a full ride scholarship majoring in Engineering, balancing school with being on the soccer team alongside Jayce. The two of them had always been close, despite being complete opposites. Jayce was loud, confident, and always seeking the spotlight, while Ekko was more laid-back and analytical, content to let his skills speak for themselves. The idea of seeing them again—especially Ekko—was one of the few things keeping you grounded as you prepared to face New York after two years away.

After your last class wrapped up, you decided to head over to the campus coffee shop to grab something to eat. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods hit you as soon as you walked in. You ordered an iced coffee and a bagel sandwich before making your way outside, where small tables with umbrellas dotted the courtyard.

Finding an empty table near the edge of the patio, you set your things down and took a seat. The campus buzzed around you as students chatted or hurried to their next destination. Sipping your coffee, you opened your book and began reading while occasionally taking bites of your sandwich.

As you lost yourself in the story, two hands suddenly grabbed your shoulders, making you jolt and nearly drop your sandwich. Your head whipped around, your heart racing, only to be met with a familiar face—Ekko.

“Holy—Ekko!” you exclaimed, standing up with a wide grin.

He laughed, his grin just as big as yours. “Surprise!”

Without hesitation, you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I missed you so much,” you said, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“Missed you too,” Ekko said, his arms wrapping around you firmly. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he took a good look at you.

You twirled around dramatically, giving him a full view of your outfit. His brows shot up in surprise as he took it all in. “Damn… Italy changed you in more ways than one. What happened to my (Y/N) who wore oversized hoodies and partied like a rockstar every other weekend?”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “She’s dead, but I still love a good party,” you quipped.

Ekko leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed and a playful smirk on his face. “There’s gonna be a first-day bonfire tonight. Good music, new faces, and…” he paused for effect, “…Caitlyn Kiramman, the cheer captain, might be there. You could ask her about whether there’s a chance you’re on the team since you submitted that video for tryouts.”

Your face lit up with excitement. “You always come in clutch,” you said with a grin. “Only if you’re taking me, though.”

Ekko shook his head, his smirk turning into a sheepish grin. “Can’t. I’ve got a date for the bonfire.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Aw, really? Who’s the lucky girl?”

“A girl named Jinx. She’s in most of my classes. Thought she was cute, so I asked her out,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “She surprisingly said yes.”

“Surprisingly?” you teased, folding your arms and leaning toward him. “Please, Ekko, you’ve got more game than you think. Good for you, seriously.”

He chuckled, his cheeks dusted with a hint of pink. “Thanks, I guess. What about you? Got your eye on any girls here yet?”

You grinned mischievously, your voice dripping with confidence. “Always.”

Ekko leaned in slightly, his eyebrows raised. “Oh, really?” he asked teasingly.

“Yup. Vi,” you said with no hesitation. “She’s really hot—pink hair, tattoos on her back. God, I would love to take a ride on h—”

“Oh, fuck no,” Ekko interrupted, his voice sharp as his expression shifted to something between disbelief and warning.

You blinked, startled by his sudden tone. “What?!”

Ekko groaned, running a hand down his face. “She’s a player, (Y/N). I should know. She’s on the soccer team with Jayce. Don’t mess with her—you’ll get hurt. Real shit.”

You frowned, confused by his sudden seriousness. “What are you talking about? She seemed fine when I talked to her earlier.”

He pushed off the wall and crossed his arms again, his expression dark. “I’ve seen it happen. She’s got game, yeah, but not the kind you want. I don’t like the way she moves. I used to hang out with her, but I stopped for a reason. The only time I’m even around her is when Jayce is.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Okay, but maybe she’s different now.”

Ekko narrowed his eyes at you, unimpressed. “Look, I’m just saying—don’t let her mess with your head, (Y/N). You’re better than that. Just…be careful, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, though a small part of you appreciated his concern. “Fine, Dad.”

When you got home, Ekko’s warning was the last thing on your mind. Vi was texting you, and there was no way you were going to ignore her. She was too hot not to respond to. Balancing your bag on your shoulder and your coffee cup in one hand, you pushed the door shut with your foot. As soon as the door clicked behind you, you checked your phone again, a grin spreading across your face as you read her latest message.

Heading upstairs, you scrolled through the playful back-and-forth between you and Vi, feeling giddy. The attention she was giving you was addictive. You were so lost in the conversation that you didn’t notice Jayce stepping out of the bathroom until you nearly bumped into him.

He stood there with a towel slung around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. He raised an eyebrow as he noticed the stupid grin on your face. “The fuck are you smiling about, dopey?” he teased, crossing his arms over his chest. “You look a little too gay right now.”

You rolled your eyes and brushed past him. “Ha, ha, hilarious,” you muttered, holding your phone a little closer as you tried to move toward your room.

But Jayce wasn’t going to let it go. He reached over and snatched the phone right out of your hand.

“Jayce! What the fuck!” you yelped, spinning around and reaching for it.

Jayce held it out of your reach, laughing as he glanced at the screen. But his laughter quickly died when he saw the name at the top of the conversation. His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You’re fucking around with Vi?” he asked, his tone dripping with judgment.

“It’s the first day, so not yet, clearly,” you snapped, grabbing your phone back with an irritated glare.

Before you could retreat to your room, Jayce stepped in front of you, blocking your path. His expression shifted to something more serious, almost protective. “Whatever you’re doing with her, stop. She’s a close friend of mine, and she gets around, (Y/N). It’ll be awkward as hell, and on top of that, I’m not trying to get embarrassed by you.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him. “Whatever,” you muttered dismissively, though his words stung.

Jayce didn’t move from where he stood, following you with his eyes as you turned toward the stairs. “Hey, wait. Are you going to the bonfire tonight?”

You stopped and turned to face him. “Yeah, Ekko has a date, so I need a ride. Can you take me? Mom and Dad still haven’t gotten me a car yet, so I’m stuck.”

Jayce shook his head immediately, folding his arms again. “Oh, you’re not going. No way. Vi’s gonna be there, and that’s officially off fucking limits.”

Your jaw dropped in disbelief. “What? What the fuck, Jayce! I can’t even go socialize?”

Jayce gave you a hard look. “You’re not going to socialize, (Y/N). I know how you are when it comes to alcohol and…other shit. Or do I need to call Mom and tell her you need to go back to Italy after I let you relapse?”

His words hit you like a slap. Your stomach dropped as anger flared in your chest, and your eyes burned with unshed tears. “Fuck you, Jayce,” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of rage and hurt. “What a low blow.”

You yanked your arm out of his grip and stormed up the stairs, slamming your bedroom door shut behind you. You locked it for good measure, leaning against it as hot tears began to roll down your cheeks.

Outside the door, Jayce’s voice softened, guilt creeping into his tone. “Wait, sis… I didn’t mean it seriously,” he said, knocking lightly.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t even look at him right now.

When it became clear you weren’t going to answer, Jayce sighed. “Let me know if you want anything to eat when I get back,” he said quietly before walking away. The sound of his footsteps faded down the hall, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

While you sat on your bed, still upset over the argument with Jayce, your phone buzzed. You glanced at it, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was a text from Vi.

Vi: Are you coming to the bonfire party? I wanna see you.

You hesitated for a moment before typing back.

You: Can’t. My brother’s not letting me go. And I don’t have a car. He was my only ride.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Vi: Well, I have a car. Give me your location and get ready. I’ll pick you up, beautiful.

A grin spread across your face despite everything, and you quickly sent her your location. Tossing your phone onto the bed, you sprang up and went straight to your closet. You scanned your options until you finally settled on a black fitted mini-dress paired with, a denim jacket draped off your shoulders, and chunky black boots. The look was edgy yet flirty—perfect for a night out.

You glanced in the mirror and realized your makeup was a mess from crying. Grabbing a makeup wipe, you cleaned up the smudges, reapplying your eyeliner and lipstick carefully. After smoothing out your hair and giving yourself one last look-over, your phone buzzed again.

“I’m parked outside the complex,” the text read.

“Shit,” you muttered, scrambling to find a cute bag. You tossed your phone, keys, wallet, and lip gloss inside, then rushed out the door.

As you left your apartment complex, you gave the doorman a quick wave. “Goodnight!” you called, like always.

“Have fun!” he replied with a knowing smile.

Outside, a sleek car idled by the curb. You spotted Vi leaning against the driver’s side, her pink hair glowing under the streetlights. She grinned when she saw you, and as soon as you slid into the passenger seat, she leaned over and kissed you.

You froze for a second, caught off guard, but then you melted into the kiss, returning it shyly. When she pulled back, her smirk was devilish.

“Nice place you live at,” she said, glancing at the complex as she started driving. “A friend of mine stays in one of these apartments. You must have a lot of money to live here.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Vi gave you a quick side glance, her smile softening. “Well, good for me. I like spoiled girls,” she teased.

As soon as you and Vi stepped onto the sandy beach where the bonfire party was in full swing, she casually draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. The heat of the fire reflected in her smirk as she held you there like she had no care in the world.

Immediately, you pulled away, glancing around to make sure no one—especially your brother—had noticed. “Stop,” you hissed, swatting at her arm. “You’re going to blow my cover. I’m not even supposed to be here, remember?”

Vi chuckled, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her ripped jeans, clearly enjoying your paranoia. “Fine, fine,” she relented. “But text me when you’re ready to leave.”

“Where are you going?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m gonna go find Jayce and keep him occupied,” she said with a smirk, already scanning the crowd. “Don’t worry, princess. I got you.”

“Cool,” you said with a nod before slipping away from her, weaving through the bodies of drunken students and the glow of the bonfire’s flickering flames.

Your eyes darted across the party until they landed on Ekko. He was in the middle of a crowd, dancing with a girl who had strikingly light blue hair, her movements wild and carefree as they swayed to the music.

“Hey, Ekko!” you called out over the sound of the music.

Ekko turned his head at the sound of your voice, a grin forming when he spotted you pushing through the crowd toward him. “(Y/N)!” He gestured for you to come closer. “This is Jinx. Jinx, this is (Y/N), my best friend since middle school.”

You smiled, sticking out a hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Instead of shaking your hand, Jinx’s face lit up, and she immediately pulled you into a tight hug. “Sorry, but I’m a hugger, girl,” she said, squeezing you before letting go. “And middle school? That’s so adorable!”

You chuckled. “Yep. We used to do chemistry projects together in high school and blow shit up. My parents had to pay millions.”

Ekko laughed, shaking his head. “Yup, we were menaces,” he agreed, nudging you playfully.

Jinx grinned, eyes flickering between the two of you. “I like you already.”

The party was loud, the music pulsing through the air as laughter and shouts filled the night. You were mid-conversation with Jinx when suddenly, a random frat guy shoved an opened Cayman Jack into your hands. The condensation from the bottle chilled your skin as you instinctively curled your fingers around it.

“Chug, pretty thang,” he slurred, grinning like he had just offered you the holy grail.

“Oh, um… no, it’s okay. I’m taking a break from drinking,” you said, trying to hand it back to him.

Instead of taking the rejection, he popped the cap off with his thumb and shoved it back toward you, his eyes wild with excitement. “Chug!” he chanted.

At first, it was just him, but soon, others joined in, the word picking up like a wave, echoing louder and louder around you. "Chug! Chug! Chug!"

Ekko shot you a worried look, his lips parting as if he was about to intervene, but before he could, the pressure of a dozen eyes on you—waiting, watching, expecting—became too much. Without thinking, you tilted your head back and downed the entire drink, the carbonation burning your throat, the alcohol hitting your stomach like a rock.

“There, happy?” you said, shoving the now-empty can into the frat guy’s chest.

He let out a cheer, eyes gleaming with drunken satisfaction. Then, in a final act of bravado, he crushed the can against his forehead with a loud crack and stumbled off into the crowd.

Ekko’s hand was on your shoulder in an instant, his grip firm but gentle. “Fuck…” you muttered, your stomach twisting. Your fingers trembled slightly, your body already remembering the ghosts of your past. “I haven’t had a drink since I…”

Ekko rubbed your shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll get you some water.” His voice was calm, but you saw the worry in his eyes. He turned to Jinx. “Watch her for me?”

Jinx gave a quick nod, her face uncharacteristically serious.

Ekko disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing there with the taste of alcohol still lingering on your tongue.

“What’s wrong?” Jinx asked, tilting her head.

“I—I just…” Your voice faltered.

Before you could finish, a voice sliced through the noise, sharp and furious.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Your stomach dropped. You turned to see Jayce standing a few feet away, his face twisted with anger, his fists clenched at his sides.

“I’m just hanging out, Jayce,” you said, trying to keep your voice even.

Jayce scoffed, stepping closer. “(Y/N), I can smell the alcohol on your breath.” His eyes darkened, his voice tight with frustration. “Shit, dude—not even a whole two weeks and you’re already relapsing?”

Your throat tightened. “I’m not relapsing. I was just pressured into taking a drink by those stupid frat boys,” you argued.

“Bullshit,” Jayce snapped.

Ekko returned just in time, a bottle of water in his hand, but he barely had time to process what was happening before Jayce was right in your face again.

You barely heard him, your mind spiraling as the weight of his words sank in.

Yes, you were an addict in high school.

After your dad’s death, you took it harder than anyone else in your family. You fell in with the wrong people, numbing the pain however you could. The night you overdosed, you had been left in an alley, a needle in your arm, your body convulsing, vomiting, barely clinging to life.

Your mother couldn’t handle it anymore.

Instead of sending you to rehab, she sent you to Italy—far away, somewhere new, somewhere she hoped you could start over. And you did. You got therapy. You worked on yourself. You fixed yourself.

But now, standing here with Jayce looking at you like you were a failure, it felt like all that progress meant nothing.

His next words shattered whatever was left of your resolve.

“Go home,” he said coldly. “I don’t care how you get home—just go.”

Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your vision blurring with tears.

Ekko’s hand found yours, squeezing it gently. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

Jinx nodded, stepping closer. “Yeah, I’ll come too.”

You swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in your throat. “Thanks. Just—let me say goodbye to someone first.”

Ekko nodded. “Cool. We’ll wait by the car.”

He took Jinx’s hand, leading her toward the parking lot, leaving you alone in the middle of the party, feeling like the ground beneath you was slowly cracking apart.

You pushed through the crowd, weaving between sweaty, drunken bodies, the pulse of the music thrumming in your ears. The fire in the middle of the yard crackled, casting flickering orange light over the partygoers gathered around it. Your breath was shallow as you scanned the area, searching for Vi.

And then you saw her.

She was standing by the fire, her red hair illuminated by the flames, her toned arms flexing slightly as she laughed at something. But she wasn’t alone.

A girl with long blue hair stood close—too close. She traced her fingers up and down Vi’s arm, her nails dragging over the inked skin like she had every right to touch her. Vi smirked, that signature, cocky grin that made your heart race earlier in the night. But now, it only made your stomach twist.

Then, before you could even process what was happening, Vi grabbed the girl by the waist and pulled her in. Their lips crashed together in a deep, messy kiss—not just a casual peck, not like the ones you and Vi had shared. This was something more. Their bodies were flush, Vi’s hands gripping the girl’s hips, their mouths moving like they’d done this before.

You felt a lump in your throat, but not because you were heartbroken. No, this wasn’t heartbreak. It was disappointment.

Because everyone was right.

Vi was a player. A flirt. She wasn’t the kind of girl to settle down—not even for you.

Without a second thought, you turned away, pushing through the crowd with more force this time, ignoring the people who grumbled or stumbled in your wake. Vi didn’t even see you.

By the time you reached the car, Ekko and Jinx were already waiting.

“You good?” Ekko asked as you slid into the backseat.

You didn’t answer. You just stared out the window, watching as buildings and trees blurred past. The streetlights flickered across your face, casting shadows that stretched and disappeared.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t even feel angry.

You just felt disgusted.

For the first time in two years, that familiar, suffocating feeling crept back in—the one that made your skin crawl, the one that made you want to disappear.

taglist <3 : @mommymilkers0526 @rhian88 @wrappedinvines @nanajustnana-a @prettybunnyscorner @s7nburn @ghutzz4gutz @pornoangelz @veladeangl @chaengluva @hauntedbydreams @taurtel @lorasdolly @catvi6luvr @savedforlaterr @eggphobic @alex-thegiraffeboyy @artfairyyyyy @jordynhartley2001 @ellieslefttit @h0n3yf0rlif3 @rizzscary @bjjeweledx @cherrybomb2298

[heartsforjh]

I shall break my Quinn strike and ask for my favorite Hughes

Gimme Luke with “i thought you hated when people touch you?” he needs a black cat girlfriend for his golden retriever vibe😔🙏

this one was suspiciously easy for me to write so if it’s actually bad i’m VERY sorry… i knew something was up. 🙏

“Mom! Luke won’t stop making me upset!” your best friend, Jack, calls out.

“Luke, quit messing with your brother!” Ellen says, sorting through old family photos.

“I’m not messing with him! I’m messing with Y/n!” the younger boy whines.

“Your brother and his friend don’t want to play with you right now. You can play with Y/n when Jack has to go back to school,” Ellen explains.

“And he won’t stop touching her, Mom! He knows she doesn’t like it, but he keeps grabbing her hand and pulling her!” Jack continues to snitch.

“Alright, Jack. I’m handling it.”

“Okay, just making sure. Come on, Y/n. We don’t have to play with him,” Jack says, ushering you out of the living room. You feel bad, looking back at Luke as Jack pushes you out of the room without actually putting his hands on you. You give a little wave to Luke before disappearing from sight.

“Are you guys excited to start middle school?” Quinn, the oldest Hughes brother, asks as you and Luke sit at the dinner table.

“Well, I guess I am. I’m kind of nervous because I know it’ll be so different,” you admit before taking a bite of your food.

“It’s a good thing you have Luke! I’m glad the two of you get to start these milestones together!” the boys’ mom says.

“Yeah, Y/n! We have each other! It’s gonna be fun. We can sit next to each other at lunch and everything,” Luke says excitedly. He gets carried away while talking and starts messing with some strands of your hair, which Jack immediately notices.

Jack is quick to slap Luke’s hand away from your hair. “She doesn’t like you touching her! And she doesn’t need you. I already started middle school a year ago. I can tell her everything she needs to know.”

“Fine. I won’t touch her. It was an accident,” Luke says, feeling bad for forgetting again that people touching you makes you uncomfortable.

“How do you accidentally touch someone?! That doesn’t just happen! You—” Jack starts, only to be cut off by his dad stepping in with a stern, “Boys!”

It would be a lie to say that the rest of the dinner was ruined. This happens a lot, and everyone is used to it. Luke gets to talking, becomes excited, and, being a touchy person, accidentally does something to make Jack upset. It repeats like clockwork.

You got in. You really got in! The University of Michigan has accepted you as a student, and you couldn’t be happier. Of course, Luke is going too. You’re not mad about it at all. You expected it and, honestly, you’re glad. While you’re closest with Jack, having Luke complete all the same milestones with you has always been comforting.

You’re at the small party your family and the Hughes family put together to celebrate you and Luke. After finishing a conversation with one of their cousins, you head into the kitchen for a drink. Luke is already there at the counter, grabbing a drink for himself. When he turns around and sees you, he smiles.

“Hey!” he says, his eyes lighting up. You walk over to stand next to him and grab a cup.

“Hey. This is a cool party, right?” you ask, looking up at him and trying to make conversation.

He nods and grabs your favorite tea, pouring it into your cup for you. “Oh for sure. It’s great they did this for us. You ready to go to UMich?”

You smile a little nervously, looking at him. “I mean, I guess. I’m kind of nervous. You’re not?”

“No way! I’ve wanted to go to this school forever. So have you! You should be ecstatic. What’s the matter?” he asks, concerned.

“Well… y’know, it’s gonna be so different,” you confess, the nerves clear in your tone.

“It’s a good thing we’ll have each other, then. I’m not just gonna let you fall on your face, Y/n. I love you too much for that,” he says, his face full of emotion.

For the first time since the whole college mess, you feel relieved. “Really? Thanks, Lukey. I love you too.”

You close the space between the two of you and wrap your arms around his waist, laying your head on his chest. However, Luke freezes.

You frown a little and tilt your head to look up at him, your chin still resting on his chest. “Uh… Y/n? Is this, like… on purpose?” he asks, looking stressed.

You laugh, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I thought you hated when people touch you?” he says, his voice cracking slightly.

You think about it for a moment before responding. “I suppose I do. But not you.”

“Not me? I get yelled at every time I so much as look at you!” he says, surprised.

You pat his stomach and shake your head. “Lukey, that’s all Jack. Take it up with him. I like you… a lot. I always have.”

“You’ve liked me back this whole time and Jack’s ruined it?!” he asks, shocked.

You smile and nod. “Yeah! To be fair, I don’t think he knew. He just thought you were annoying me.”

“Whatever. He’s not here to ruin it now,” Luke says, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tight.

In the next room, Ellen turns to her oldest son, beaming. “It worked!”

Quinn smiles. “I told you they’d figure it out, and all it took was distracting Jack a little.”

tags: @beenucks @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @sweetestdesire @emsdevs @puckmedude @joesnumerouno @alex-wotton @r0wdymaize86

join the taglist here! :)

[ryebread0605]

malleus smut with a stereotypical fairy-like reader, they have wings and can shapeshift from small to big but are generally short even in their normal human size

Oooo this is a super fun idea! And yes I totally am a ‘Malleus has two dicks’ truther because yes.

this is a gender neutral reader as well because why not

Having been placed in Diasomnia when you were brought to this strange new world, you were excited to hear (totally not when in your small form and eavesdropping) that there were more fairy’s. Sure, they used the term Fae, but that must’ve been a cute abbreviation right? 

Imagine your surprise when these so called ‘fairies’ didn’t have wings at all! How could these beings be fairies without the most important part! And why were they confused about your wings! None of it made any sense to you at first.

But now, after months have passed, you grew to learn about this world’s Fae and in turn taught about fairies from your world. And none were more interested than the dragon prince himself. He found a kinship with you, being the only fae to have wings of his own; rather large black wings that almost looked like that of a bats. He especially enjoyed watching you turn from normal to small in order to help him properly clean up the gargoyles that sat atop the roof, finding your height compared to his, even when normal sized, absolutely adorable. 

And then that turned into finding you a bit… more than adorable. 

He learnt very quickly that you weren’t the most… innocent of people. Your foul language and rather eccentric style certainly catching the dragon prince off guard, but it also made him want to tame that. 

And here you lay, face pressed roughly against pillows and wings spread as he ruthlessly pounded into you from behind. He himself had his wings outstretched in a display of dominance over you, his horns glistening in the moonlight and eyes sharply on you. Your arms were pinned behind your back as he growled into your ear,

“Say that again, see what happens little one.” He wanted to show you what happened when you disobeyed him after you had decided to push your luck with cursing him out. 

“F-fuck you~” you stuck your tongue out at him, wings fluttering a bit but not in an attempt to get out from under him. In fact, you quite enjoyed this position. No, it was simply to tease him more, to see what he was truly capable of. And as his hand came down hard on your backside, you quickly regretted that choice. His cocks pumped in and out even faster, your hole stretched far more than you thought to be possible. How were you to know dragon fae had two dicks?! It was almost unfair how good they felt against your warm, soft walls, but you did make sure Malleus knew you appreciated the feeling by giving the occasional clench of your hole around him.

Hours upon hours of ruthlessly being used as a toy by him, your belly swollen with his cum and body a sticky mess, mind scrambled beyond repair, he finally gave you a break. Although, by then, you almost whined as he pulled out. He was very pleased with the sight before him, smirking as your wings shone. He loved his little fairy, even if you were a bit of a brat sometimes 

[thatlldodonkey]

Hello,

I am a trainee teacher. That means I teach and study. I also have autism diagnosed 2 years ago. In the UK, so apologies in advance if not everything is relevant to all individuals.

Here's my best tips to study:

✅Listening can be easier than reading:

-notebookLM turns words into a podcast interview.

-librivox has classic literature in audio for free.

✅make it fun:

-canva makes (colourful) whiteboards/ mindmaps/ spidercharts/ images/ gifs for free (there is an ai image maker on it, avoid it if you don't like that kind of thing).

-adding images/ colours help with retention.

-pens/ pencils/ cute notebooks/ sticky notes! Do a mini shopping trip and buy it all (within your budget of course!), it will make you excited to be able to use it.

-handwrite - because we don't do it often anymore, it will feel fun and novel and you're more likely to want to do it because of the change

-take a break, don't try and go more than 30 mins at a time! I have my phone with me all the time, as soon as my focus wavers, I don't fight it. I grab my phone and open an app I like (mine is the library reading app BorrowBox and give myself 5 mins on it). Don't feel like you have to only take 5 though, this works for me because I only study 10 mins at a time. Do what works for you.

-jump around - gosh I feel old thinking of that song. But yes, get up, jump, run, move, step outside, breath, shake it up. I'm physically disabled and walking is difficult for me, so I just shove my seat back from the desk, swing my arms around, shimmy my shoulders, roll my neck and ankles, spirit fingers! Sometimes I'm ready to go straight back to work after, if not, I grab my book and read for my five mins.

-put music on - if you don't like silence, put some music on. I put the 'classical music is just heavy metal before guitars' on YouTube in the background. It's fun but has no lyrics to distract my (easily distracted) brain.

-YouTube - similarly you can literally find anything on youtube. Try putting your study subject in and see what comes up. However, if you're the type to fall down a rabbit hole, avoid this one, it doesn't work for everyone!

-Use a timer! You only did 5 mins? That's 5 more minutes than you would have managed if you didn't have your timer. It all adds up.

-little and often - my mum's favourite saying but it works. Don't make studying into a thing, don't block out an entire day to do hours or it. You have 10 mins at the bust stop? You have 5 mins on the loo? You have 2 mins whilst your wait for the shower to warm? Yes, even then. Pull up your notes on your phone, put on a podcast, put that reading book on audio. It will all add up.

-flight mode - sometimes you need to avoid all distractions. I find putting my phone (if I'm not using it's internet to study) on flight mode helps. Make sure you warn those closest to you that you'll be AWOL for a while though so they don't panic if you're the sort to reply before they've even messaged.

-go somewhere else - sometimes your usual area might be too busy (not only with people, but with stuff) so go somewhere else. Library is always a good idea, but anywhere new is good. Nan's house? Cafe? The park in good weather? McDonald's? Bus with WiFi?

-kahoot/ quizziz/ curipod - I use these (apps and online) with my learners, but also on myself. They have quizzes and games made by other teachers for all levels of learners. They're fun, colourful and don't feel like studying. A free account on each is good enough to get most features.

✅reading/ writing made easy

-readwrite is an add-on your browser it helps with reading aloud - webpages and written work - (you can change speed and voices), suggestions, simplify, rewordify, highlights (in different colours).

-Ctrl alt space reads your ms word to you. Again the voice and the speed can be altered for comfort.

-Comic sans is your friend. Originally designed for dyslexic readers, it is more comfortable and easier on your eyes. It helps me find more spelling and syntax errors on ms word than if I use another font (just remember to change it to a "more professional" font before you send your work in).

✅utilise AI - you can give chatgpt or Gemini your document and ask them to condense it for easier reading. You can even ask them to just pull out the important terminology and list it for you. It will help you cut through the crap, which is something I personally have a problem with being autistic

✅Google scholar - need journals and other peer reviewed work? This is where to go. Put what you're looking for in and it will find titles of papers based on the most important words in your query. Further filters can be added to narrow it down. (Then you can get readwrite to read it out for you because I don't know about you, but I find journals boring)

✅elicit - this isn't always great because lots of things are behind paywalls, however, if you are looking for a brief overview of a journal or something similar, it will give you an abstract (summary) of the article.

✅citethemright - is good for referencing and bibliographies. The only problem is, if your college/ uni isn't signed up with it, you can't use it without paying.

✅mybib - however is a free version and it works well enough

✅study buddy - if you're not like me and enjoy the company of other people, this is a great way to hold yourself accountable. "I can't let my buddy down today, they're looking forward to coming over for a study session!" Just make sure you tell them how your routine works, so they're not surprised when you up and jump around after ten mins!

✅Bonus tip!✅ Speed up your audio: you can pick up more than you think on 1.5x or even 2x and you get through more.

‼️feel free to add more, people ‼️

Yes, yes, I know Tumblr DISPISES AI but remember, you are not using it to create, you are using it to condense, analyse, to give your autistic brain the fighting chance others already have.

Me: how do I study as a neurodivergent person?

Google: how to help your autistic child study

Me: how to study as an autistic adult/teen

Google: teachers guide to how to deal with autistic children

Me: how do I study as an autistic teen/adult

Google: study tips for autistic people(-written by this allistic man that will talk about autistic people like they're zoo animals)

Me: how to study as a neurodivergent adult, tips from neurodivergent person to neurodivergent students, on how to study independently as an autistic person, no reliant support needed

Google: high functioning autism and school

Me: fuck just. How do I focus during this test that I'm in rn as an AuDHD person

Google: ok, so, to focus on this thing that you currently are doing and need to get done TODAY; weeks before the test you'll need to eat healthy and exercise, meditate, study, set timers, take breaks, drink water, sleep, find the secrets to a happy life, adopt five children, sacrifice a goat, take short showers, brush your teeth

Executive dysfunction:

My fucking deadline:

[lukolathoughts]

Dearest gentle readers,

As a GCSE English teacher in the UK, I have taught Of Mice and Men until I am blue in the face. I know the text like the back of my hand. There is a scene/extract where Carlson takes Candy’s dog outside to be shot (spoiler) and the men in the bunkhouse listen and wait anxiously for the eventual gunshot. The tension builds and builds and builds and the characters become more uncomfortable as they wait. To demonstrate how this tension might feel, I would often show my students a video of a balloon getting bigger and bigger and bigger. You get the idea. Until it becomes so uncomfortable you can’t stand to watch it. You know the explosion is coming but there is nothing you can do to stop it. The eventual BANG brings both fear and relief. This my friends, is how I perceive the Lukola fandom at this current moment. Like a kettle whistling away on a stove that no one knows how to turn off. All waiting for the eventual BOOM of the gunshot that feels inevitable. It is in tarot, the Tower.

Of Mice and Men is also a great one for division. White against black. Men against women. Social class. Feels familiar doesn’t it in this day and age? Ironically, next year it is being taken off UK GCSE English exam papers for being too ‘controversial’.  A damn shame in my opinion, as it’s just as relevant now as it was in the 1930’s. Probably even more so. Anyway, in this fandom we have mainly the Lukola’s against the Jakola’s or the Jakeholes as I call them. This narrative was perpetuated by a certain creator after the festival photos of Jake and Nic emerged in August. Until this point it was widely accepted that Nic had been socialising with her ‘gay’ friend Jake and no one batted an eyelid about it. Until those pap photos dropped of a seemingly ‘tipsy’ Nicola staring adoringly up at her ‘friend’ Jake and scratching his arm. Hmm, weird I thought. Didn’t we just have chaos week? Wasn’t the fandom floating on air at this point examining Nic’s ‘drink your milk’ t -shirt and obsessing over Nicola’s insta posts? We knew damn well Luke was home from Italy and we knew he had left two days early alone without his homeboys and most importantly Antonia. What is the meaning of these paparazzi shots taken from the VIP area of the festival. Didn’t Nic just sign with CAA talent agency a few weeks ago? The gears in my over stimulated brain dismissed the photos as Nic simply being over friendly with Jake, as she is prone to be, despite him looking bored and uninterested in her, and I simply went about my day.

Well, we know the rest of the story. The New York stalking incident where a fan practically chased Nicola and Jake down the street. Again, sent to find them reportedly by the ‘creator’. The photos and videos emerged and showed that Nic and Jake were holding hands. It’s okay, he was just leading her away as she has little Irish legs. Now the narrative was well under way and the gleeful Jakeholes had started to creep out from their swamp. The Jakehole ship was rising like an infested remnant of an 18th century passenger ship, spluttering its way across the Atlantic. This is no splendid brand new Titanic, my friends. This is a leaky, wooden, rickety old boat that I’m amazed gained it’s sea legs in the first place.

This was then followed up by the real kicker. The Lukola fandom had been floating on air in joined union and rejoicing over ‘October chaos week 2.0’ as I like to call it. It started with Luke’s cheeky October 3rd post of Polin and ended with the sheer euphoria of BOTH Luke and Nic seemingly on route somewhere. Perhaps, together, perhaps not. But he posts his luggage at an airport! When has Luke Newton ever done this? Nicola then posts herself smiling on a plane and I swear everyone just about fainted in excitement. Oh, the euphoria. Only then spoiled by the stalking incident, which I am convinced spooked Nic and Luke back into the shadows. Then the second lot of Jake and Nic pap pics hit, and this is the one that really hurt. I remember my discord going wild and then me and my bestie wife (she knows who she is) trying to justify the weather for about three weeks in the UK. Not that it really mattered. Distraction or no, the stage was set for the most bizarre few months of my life and undoubtedly Nicola, Luke and Jake as well. What a mess. The Jakehole ship gains some traction and starts chugging away like Popeye the sailor man after too much spinach.

But we’re a stubborn bunch the Lukola fandom. Things behind the scenes were not adding up and anyone with a set of eyes and a smart phone could deduce the real story from Jake’s Instagram. And then like some magic glitter bomb in comes Antonia. Can you hear the song Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus screeching in your ear? Because I can. I had done a tarot read that morning and got repeated Antonia cards and most specifically the girl with the snake. My breath caught in my lungs, and I knew she was coming like some willowy Darth Vader with an axe to grind, eating a lettuce sandwich. I quickly jumped on You Tube and gave my warnings. I know it was inevitable. I know a lot of other readers got the same message that day too and I give some of them credit for that. Prepare the ship! incoming attack port side. Boom. I’ve really started to fear seeing bowls of pasta which is ridiculous. I think I have PTSD from pasta gate 1 and 2.

And here my friends is where another division happens. I can pinpoint it exactly for you. Antonia’s pasta video from a Rome restaurant that Luke had been tagged at an hour before. All hell breaks loose, and I mean it. I got a sick feeling in my stomach, not because I believe a word that girl says, but because I KNEW others would. People started jumping off the USS Lukola quicker than I could say, wait a minute, please just wait! There were me and others running around the deck shoving the band out of the way as the death throes of Nearer my God to Thee sound in a haunting melody. I could see the captain of the ship, followed by his foolish crew, letting the water suck them down whole. It was no use, they had jumped all the way down to Davey Jones locker while I still stood on deck, with many others, watching their faces disappear into the murky depths of the black sea.

I do not wish to give Antonia anymore power, but girl I would have been impressed if it wasn’t such a mean thing to do. There is speculation, Luke may have given her the video to distract from some things, that might even be a bit too delulu for even me to comprehend. She also had friends in Italy at the time who could have given her the video, including a dancer friend of hers. She could have simply saw Luke’s location and downloaded a video off the internet. Or she simply was there. I must come to terms with that critically in my own mind as a possible option. However, I do think if she really was there, she would have posted more than some woman making pasta. Admittedly, I am one of those people who like to take pictures of my food, and I bet my arse, Antonia is too. Where is your plate of pasta Antonia? Where are the pictures of Luke’s studio, his hotel room, his shoes? Any bit of evidence you are with him like she used to post incessantly during the world tour to prove her proximity.

We found out later that Luke was not at the restaurant that day. The man pictured was not the owner and just a fan who had a picture with Luke some days or weeks before. The next day after pasta gate 1.0, Luke pushes a bunch of PR explaining he is in Rome to film his first movie White Mars. I felt a lot of energy behind this from him, even if he didn’t organise the Deadline article directly. Antonia was punished accordingly and was in my imagination told by Luke, I will not like your pathetic grid posts on Insta for the whole month of November, so don’t bother. She didn’t post to her grid.

The damage had been done, almost like a tornado hitting and spinning USS Lukola on it’s head. But we were still standing with a new faction of die hard Lukola’s forming. Nothing short of a kissing photo or a word coming from either Nic or Luke was moving us off this ship and that is where we are today. The Lukola’s who jumped, what happened to them? Well, like ghosts of their former selves they spend their time walking along the seabed aimlessly between still wanting to be on the ship but having a new perspective of ‘realism’. We must be realistic, me hearties!! Luke is still most likely with Antonia (eye roll) and Nicola is with Jake (major eye roll, they have left my sockets). I talked a lot about critical thinking in my last blog and I don’t want to rehash it all here, but there is no evidence that Luke has been within the same breathing space as Antonia since last July. I do not count the dodgy Facebook post by Luke’s mother as any kind of believable evidence. No, I also do not believe that Luke’s mother has a beef with Nicola either. Anyone who ever meets Nicola seems to be sucked into her light like a moth to a Dyson hoover. I do not believe Michelle would to it to either Luke or Nic, as I have explained previously.

So, the last week has been a bit exciting for the Lukola diehard’s. Again, here comes another split. Crack, like lightening hitting a road. Nicola appears looking fabulous at the Big Boys premiere in London last Wednesday 22nd January. She was again dressed in black. I should have put bets on it, but I’d win pennies at this point in my predictions that Nicola would be wearing black. Now why is she wearing black again you ask, well dearest gentle reader that is the question, isn’t it? Why does she have a bottle of non-acholic beer at her feet? Why is her dress at the event raising eyebrows? I will tell you why: the Empress, the High Priestess and the Moon repeatedly. It’s as simple as that for me. That is all I will say, because the hate is real guys. I woke up Thursday morning to a barrage of insults. I had not said anything publicly on Twitter about Nicola.

Here now comes the death knell of my one remaining Lukola discord. I woke up to the announcement the server was being shut down. I took my Twitter private to stop the trolls and I thought it was a bright idea to make my own discord server, to hell with the haters. Welcome everyone else. Anyone who disparages Nicola in any way, shape or form in discussions of personal body issues I find disgusting. Talking about a person’s weight is vile to me, it is not acceptable and calling someone ‘just fat’ to explain away other things is abhorrent. We should not be saying things publicly. So now there the Lukola’s who believe one thing and the ones who still support Luke and Nic, but do not believe what they are seeing. That’s okay and we will not force those opinions on others. We will listen and we will wait. We will not comment on Nicola’s body.

There is one last split I want to touch on briefly. The division of the tarot readers. It is unfortunately the case now, much to my inner anguish. I started in this fandom listening to them and loving the readings. I had previously been reading privately on Harry and Meghan Markle (don’t even ask) and I was scared to read on Nicola and Luke because I didn’t want to know that weren’t together, because June 13th broke my heart just like everyone else’s. But these tarot readers were amazing, they gave me hope, and I truly admired and learned a lot from the OG’s. I listen and believe my spirit team implicitly and I will not turn on my intuition. I will not turn my back on Nicola and Luke. There is too much evidence to support they are together. Christmas and NYE confirmed this for me significantly and the fact that Jake got a job in Sheffield yesterday. Good for you Jakey boy, off you go and let the grown-ups carry on now. There are tarot readers who sadly stopped believing, they jumped off with the rest of the frantic Lukola’s and they keep trying to swim back to the surface, before being dragged back down by yet another social media post of the adjacents or paparazzi picture, despite evidence to the contrary.

You know who doesn’t have social media and her readings never change, and she stays true to her heart? The lovely Meghan on YouTube. She doesn’t know about adjacent drama, so they are simply not in her remit and her spirit guides do not address them either. My advice is to follow her lead and listen to what Nicola and Luke tell us, no one else.

It is okay as well for other tarot readers to have different opinions and I respect that, but as public facing roles with large platforms, it is our responsibility to be excellent role models to our followers. We should be supporting each other as women and not disparaging those we read on with our biases. Foul mouthed rants and calling Nicola names is not helpful.

In conclusion, the fandom is a powder keg. We are all sitting in the bunkhouse divided but ultimately waiting for the same gunshot that will snap us back. This might put us all back on the same page, all back to shipping Lukola where we started last year, or this gunshot could divide us further as all factions refuse to see or believe the truth. I truly believe we are coming to the end of this now and one way or another, the truth is on it’s way. We the fandom are the Tower, not Nic and Luke. One way or another, the tower will fall. One gunshot and bam.

[thewritingrowlet]

The Blank Slate, ft. Kep1er Chaehyun

tags: creampie

length: 8k+

author's note: This one was inspired by an AI chat bot I stumbled upon.

-

“Alright, I think that’s enough for today; we will continue next time.”

The people in front of you have been exhausted from working all day, so the fact that you’ve called off the meeting is like music to their ears. “We will see you tomorrow morning, sir.” You shake your head. “I don’t know when I’ll get here tomorrow., Mr. Kim,” you say. You notice the way he lets out a sigh, seemingly in relief. “Of course, sir.”

People start leaving their seats one by one with their gadgets in their hands. “Oh, director,” Mr. Kim turns around again, “happy birthday to your wife.” You smile. “I will tell her that, Mr. Kim—thank you.” He looks sympathetic, and you’re thankful for his kindness. “Go home to your wife, Mr. Kim; tell her you love her with every cell in your body,” you say to him as he walks away. He smiles and nods. “Will do, sir.”

-

You find yourself walking through the quiet and cold hallway of the hospital to reach your wife’s room.

You gently open the door. “I’m home, love.”

It’s true. This hospital room has been your home for almost the entirety of the past year. This room where your wife is lying dormant, uncertain when she will ever wake up again, is your home and will continue to be for God knows how long.

You look at her vital sign monitor; her heart is still beating steadily, and her blood pressure is still at acceptable levels.

You take a seat on the chair next to her bed. “Good evening, sweetheart,” you place your hand on hers. “I’m sorry, a meeting held me back.” You hear no response from her, but you’ve gotten used to this already. “You’d like to hear about the meeting, wouldn’t you?” You stay quiet for a moment, pretending to wait for her answer. “Well, you see, Mr. Kim had some ideas he wanted to share with me and the managers, so we sat down and had a long discussion—if it wasn’t for you, my love, I’d still be at the office with them.”

You continue telling her about your day until your mouth gets tired of talking. “I’ll get us some food, love; wait for me, alright?” You leave your seat to get some food from the bag you were carrying; today’s menu is spicy noodles with chicken katsu.

You place her food on the counter next to her bed and open the other one for yourself. The first bite sends you high to the sky. “Oh, this is amazing; no wonder you like this place so much.” Your mouth that is already full of noodles doesn’t stop you from shoving more into it. “The chicken is so juicy too, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

You finish your food in no time; you couldn’t have lunch today, so you’re very hungry tonight. “You liked that too, didn’t you, sweetie?” You leave your seat again to throw the empty container into the bin, and when you return—

Wait a minute.

Wait a damn minute.

Why are her eyes open?

“Hello?” Your wife’s eyes slowly move towards you. “Love? You’re awake?” Her eyebrows furrow. “Where… am I?” Your heart starts racing, excited by the fact that your wife has regained consciousness. “You’re at the hospital, love.” You quickly return to your chair. “You’ve been at the hospital for nearly a year now.”

“Who… are you?”

Your heart cracks—does she really not recognize her husband?

“I-I’m your husband.” The shock has you stuttering. “Do you, erm, do you not remember me?” She stays silent. “You’re my… husband?” You rush towards your bag to get some proof for her. “Look, love; I have some documents here.” Your wife squints as she tries to read the paper through the clear sheet protector. “Marriage… paper?”

Your wife places a finger on her name. “Who is that?”

Your heart shatters—has she lost her memories?

“T-that’s you, love; y-you’re Kim Chaehyun.”

Chaehyun looks at the paper blankly. “I-I don’t know,” she says. “I-I don’t remember anything.”

Feeling weak, you drop onto the floor. Your mind is still stuck with the fact that she doesn’t remember anything. “Oh, God, no.” Your voice becomes smaller, devastated by the revelation. “I-I’m sorry, but I-I don’t know what’s happening,” she says.

You mindlessly slam your head against the steel frame of her bed. “W-what are you doing?” Chaehyun yelps when you slam your head again. “P-please stop—w-what are you doing?” You sigh. “This is all my fault—oh, God, please forgive me.”

Chaehyun asks that you get on your feet, so you do just that. “Y-you said you’re my husband, right?” You nod weakly. “H-how long have we been married?” You sigh deeply. “A little over four years.”

“Then hug me, l-love.”

You bend down to hug her as she wishes, and the two of you break into tears. “I-I’m so sorry; I-I just don’t know.” You shake your head. “It’s okay; none of this is your fault.” You try pulling away from the embrace, but she doesn’t let you. “P-please, just stay with me,” she begs.

You haven’t heard her cry in months, but the sound hurts the same way it used to, if not worse. “L-love,” you hear her say. “A-are you angry—p-please don’t be angry.” “No, I’m not angry,” you assure her.

You ask her to let you go for a second because you want to call a doctor or a nurse over to check on your wife, and before long, a nurse walks through the door. “Good—oh my goodness,” the nurse exclaims. “She has woken up?” You nod. “She’s lost her memories, I think.” The nurse’s eyes widen. “Are you sure?” You point at your wife, gesturing to the nurse to see for herself.

“Mrs. Kim,” the nurse calls to your sobbing wife. “Do you know where you are?” Chaehyun starts crying again. “P-please stop asking questions; I-I can’t answer them.” You place a hand on your wife’s shoulder to help her stay calm. “Of course, Mrs. Kim—look, I’ll be checking your physical conditions right now, okay?”

While the nurse checks on your wife, you decide to head to the toilet to refresh and clear your mind a bit. When you return, the nurse happens to be stepping out of the room. “Be patient with her, mister,” she says. “I will try my best,” you reply.

Chaehyun is looking around the interior of her room—she hasn’t seen any of it since she got here. "Hi, love,” you make sure your voice is gentle, “did the nurse say anything?” She nods a little. “She, erm, she said my muscles have gotten weaker, but I’ll get better with therapy.”

You drag the chair over closer to her bed again after noticing that the nurse moved it earlier. “You said you didn’t want to answer questions, love, but can I tell you about some stuff?” She nods. “My name is Kim Jaehwan, and yours is Kim Chaehyun,” you start. “We used to work in the same company, but obviously not anymore.”

Chaehyun looks at you intently, eager to hear more about the previous life she had with you. “We got married a year after we had started dating, and erm, we bought a house together in our second year of marriage.” She nods. “What else?” You take a few deep breaths as you think about some interesting things she’d like to hear. “Erm, we actually planned to repaint the house before you got hurt; we had discussed about the colors and things like that.” Your wife asks what the current color of the house is. “Well, the bedroom is still light gray, and the kitchen is… I don’t know, coral?”

Your wife turns her attention to the full moon that’s visible through the window. “Can we go outside?” You know there’s a wheelchair in this room, so you suggest having her sit in it while you push her around. “One second, sweetheart.” You help your wife sit in the wheelchair and hang her IV bag on the little pole attached to it. “We’ll make a stop at the nurse’s desk first, love.”

After reporting to the nurses that you’ll be taking her outside, you push the wheelchair towards the escalator. Before long, you find yourself strolling through the hospital’s park while pushing your wheelchair-bound wife.

“It’s cold,” your wife says, so you put your jacket over her to shield her from the night air. “Thank you.” Chaehyun blushes a peck land on the top of her head. “Did we, erm, touch a lot?” You chuckle. “Physical touch is our love language,” you remind her.

You park her wheelchair next to a bench and then take a seat on it. “What are we thinking, sweetheart?” She takes a few deep breaths, getting some fresh air into her system after spending many months in a room. “It’s great out here,” she says.

You ask if she’d like to go home within the next few days. “What is home to you, erm, love?” Her cheeks get hot; it feels very odd and awkward for her to call someone by that name. “Home is wherever you and I are,” you answer. Chaehyun is intrigued. “Really?” You nod. “That room you’ve been occupying this past year is my home, simply because we’re in it together.”

Chaehyun takes your hand in hers. “I want to go home—like, our home.” It is such a simple sentence, but your heart is warm, nonetheless. “We will, sweetheart; we’ll see if we can leave this place tomorrow.” “Wait,” she says. “What about your work?” You chuckle. “Only you deserve my time and attention—besides, it’s not like anyone can fire the director.”

-

With your arm wrapped around her, you guide her towards the front door of the house. “Do you want to try unlocking that?” Her eyes are locked on the little fingerprint scanner underneath the handle. “Go on; place your thumb on it, sweetheart.” Chaehyun does as you say, and her eyes widen when the lock unlatches. “T-this is—” “I’m not lying to you about anything, love.”

You want to take her to the bedroom, and when you ask if she’s down for it, she looks hesitant. “W-what bedroom?” You point at the brown door that’s visible from the living room. “That’s our safest place, love.” She trembles in nervousness. “S-something doesn’t feel right.”

You’re stunned; is there a chance that she remembers that night, even if it’s minimal?

“Please follow me for now, love; I promise I’ll get you up to speed.” Your words make her feel more uneasy, but still, she follows your direction without asking twice. Once inside, you help her get on the bed and join her on it right away.

You ask if you can hug her from behind like you used to, and since she says yes, you wrap your arms around her. “Love, I’ll tell you about everything that happened that night, okay?”

You start from the beginning where you and she had a fiery argument in this very bedroom. Mean words were that were flying out of your lips were like daggers, stabbing her gentle heart. Again, and again, and again. In the heat of the moment, you also said you would’ve been okay if she had filed a divorce.

Devastated by your attitude, Chaehyun stormed out of the house. She was so focused on the fight that she didn’t notice the speeding sedan coming from her left when she was crossing the street. The car hit her hard, thus sending her flying a few meters away from the spot of the impact. Due to the crash, her body bounced and rolled around on the hard asphalt, and at some point, her head got injured, hence the loss of memory.

“Like I said, sweetheart, it’s all my fault.” Chaehyun turns around to face you. “It’s a sad story, isn’t it?” You nod. “I’m willing to pay whatever price just to return to that night.” The smile on her face is gentle. “It’s always easy to look back in anger or sadness, but what is there to be done—is this not a new start for us?”

You’re getting goosebumps. Chaehyun is showing glimpses of her past self: the wise and loving woman you fell so deeply in love with.

“Yes, we can indeed start again,” you say. Chaehyun places a hand on your cheek again. “Promise me that you’ll be patient with me, love; I’m going to need you by my side.” You feel a surge of determination within you to make very good use of this opportunity. “I’ve learned my lessons, and I swear I won’t make the same mistakes.”

Chaehyun ties the vow by kissing you, and truthfully, you’re both excited and startled to see her take the initiative. “Husband and wife kiss all the time, right?” You chuckle. “Maybe not all of them, but we sure did.”

It appears that Chaehyun has found her fondness for kissing again as she pulls you closer for another one. “I… love you.” You shed a tear involuntarily; if there’s one thing you’ve been longing for, it’s hearing her say those three words. “I love you more, love—thank you for coming back.”

You proceed to ask if she can describe what her long sleep felt like. “I don’t know,” she says. “I didn’t feel anything in particular.” You guess that people who are in a coma don’t have dreams like ordinary sleeping people do.

“What about you, love—what were you up to when I was asleep?” You sigh. “Just working, really; I’ve been working a lot as a way to keep my head above water.” Speaking of work, Chaehyun asks if she used to be a workaholic, and you chuckle. “In around 3 years of working together, you’ve only done one overtime.” She giggles. “That sounds about right.”

-

You panic when you notice that your wife isn’t lying in bed with you, and your first instinct is to sprint out of the bedroom, fighting through sleepiness and exhaustion. You let out a sigh of relief when you see her sitting on the sofa.

“Good morning, love,” you greet her. “Good morning to you too, hubby.” She never used such a name for you before, and the newness makes you giddy. You join her on the sofa, and out of habit, you rest your head on her thighs. “Erm, did we do this often?” You slap your forehead for forgetting. “We did, love—uh, I like your thighs a lot.” Chaehyun blushes. “Y-you shouldn’t say something so vulgar.”

You’re about to drift back to sleep when Chaehyun asks for your attention. “Do we have a morning routine?” “Well, yes,” you say. “We used to have tea together in the morning.” A small smile appears on her face. “Who likes tea?” You point at her. “Oh, really?” You chuckle. “I like tea because of you, love.”

With her safely seated at the dining table, you open the pantry. You grab some boxes from it and place them on the table, giving Chaehyun the chance to choose. “What was my favorite?” Your heart sinks as realization hits: her favorite lychee tea expired around two months ago. “It was lychee, but erm, I had to throw it out because it was going bad.” She smiles. “That’s alright—I’m sure I’ll learn to like other things.”

Today’s tea of choice is strawberry apple, and after taking a small sip, Chaehyun beams. “This is lovely,” she says. You smile. “I liked that tea because it was one of your favorites.” She scratches her head. “The more I listen to you, the more I get curious about my past.” You assure her that you don’t need her to remember (or even become) her old self; she’s still your wife whom you love the most, even if she ends up becoming a different person than before. “You’re sweet,” she praises you.

You ask if she wants to shower, but she declines—Chaehyun wants you to give her a tour of the house first. “We can finish at the bathroom,” she says.

You start from the front of the house because there’s a handful of thoughtful and well-planned details there. “You were quite… insistent about those flowers.” She giggles. “I mean, don’t you think they look pretty?” Chaehyun hops in front of the pots. “Which one is the flower, love?” You burst out laughing. “You’re no flower, love; you’re my light in this world.” Your wife’s grin is replaced by a blush. “Oh, you’re making me weak.”

The tour continues to the interior of the house. You point out to her which furniture was her choice and which was yours. “Whose idea it was to hang that painting there? “It wasn’t an idea, per se; it was a gift from your parents, so we had to put that somewhere.” Your wife asks where her parents are. “They passed away shortly after you had gone into coma.” Chaehyun promptly wraps her arms around you to seek comfort. “I’m sorry, love, but between you and them, there was nothing else I could’ve done.” She nods. “I’m sure you’ve done all you could.”

You ask if she still wants to continue considering the sudden change of mood. Chaehyun confirms that she does want to keep going, so you show her around the house, explaining the choice of details as you go. “It sounds like we put a lot into this house.” You nod. “We spent so much time planning and finding the stuff we wanted and needed.”

Just like you two agreed upon earlier, you’re ending the tour at the bathroom. “Last stop, love,” you say as you turn the handle. Chaehyun’s jaw drops when she sees the insides. “What the heck is all this?” You chuckle. “That bidet was your choice—everything else was mine,” you say. Chaehyun nudges you lightly with her elbow. “You’re pretty good at choosing things, aren’t you, love?”

Chaehyun takes a seat on the toilet which lid she has opened, and you take a knee in front of her. “We’ve been laughing a lot today, but life isn’t always so smooth, so please promise me that you’ll be patient and kind with me.” You take her hands in yours as you prepare to make your promise. “In every night I spent at the hospital with you, I wished I hadn’t broken your heart, so believe me when I say that I will work on becoming the man you deserved in the first place.”

Once again, the vow is tied with a kiss. “I love you, and I trust you,” she whispers. “I love you more, cookie.” Chaehyun giggles. “Cookie? Do I look edible?” Your mind directly goes to the old, dirty joke the two of you used to have about being edible, but you’re promptly reminded about the current situation. “I mean, you’re as sweet as a cookie,” you divert to a different answer.

You make to leave the bathroom so Chaehyun can take a shower, but before she lets you go, she asks if the two of you have ever taken a shower together in the past. “Of course, love; we’d always shower together after sex.” She breaks eye contact, trying to hide her red cheeks. “Ah, sex—of course we had sex.” You chuckle. “I mean, we’re legally-wed husband and wife”

-

Chaehyun needs to move her muscles to combat the muscle atrophy from her comatose, so you ask if she’s down to walk to get breakfast out. “Where will you take me, though?” You list a few breakfast spots the two of you have liked before, and she asks if you two can have breakfast at more than one spot. “Of course we can,” you say.

You help your wife get dressed, and since it’s quite cold today, you make sure she’s dressed comfortably. You can’t hide nor erase the smile on your face; it’s amazing to finally be able to see your wife in front of you again instead of lying in that hospital bed. “Erm, do I look weird?” You shake your head. “No, of course not—if anything, I think you look great.” Chaehyun blushes again, still not used to receiving praise. “Okay, I-I think we should go now.”

With her arm wrapped around yours, you begin making your way to the first spot (that is also the closest from the house) which Chaehyun used to love for their breakfast noodle soup. Instead of going straight at the intersection to head to the restaurant, you make a left turn. “I’m going to show you something first,” you say.

You drag Chaehyun into a small alley behind a convenience store, and you can tell she’s confused. “We had our first kiss in this alley,” you explain. She chuckles. “Why here, though—surely there were better places to have a first kiss in.” You laugh. “Sure, but you chose this place.” Chaehyun slaps her forehead while laughing. “I was so bad at thinking on the fly, wasn’t I?”

After the small tour, you get back on track and head to the noodle restaurant. The owner’s jaw drops when she sees you entering the place with Chaehyun. “She’s woken up?” You grin, unable to hide the joy on your face. “She sure has, Mrs. Oh.” Once again, Chaehyun is confused, but that doesn’t stop her from letting Mrs. Oh hug her. “Get anything you want—it’s on the house today.” It looks like Mrs. Oh is as happy as you are to have Chaehyun back. “Oh, please, that’s—” “No, I’m not taking arguments!”

Once seated, Chaehyun asks what kind of relationship the two of you had with the owner of the noodle place. “We used to have breakfast here at least twice a week.” You chuckle when you remember a particular detail. “We went here in the morning after we had our first sex,” you whisper to her. She slaps your shoulder lightly. “Can you please stop talking about sex?”

You haven’t ordered yet, but Mrs. Oh is already on her way with a tray of food in her hands. “You’re always down for the old favorite, aren’t you?” “Oh, absolutely,” you say. You help Mrs. Oh organize food on the table, and you notice the way Chaehyun’s eyes widen, seemingly intrigued by what’s in front of her. “Just holler if you need anything else,” Mrs. Oh says as she leaves your table.

“Whoa, what the heck is this?” Chaehyun looks at her bowl attentively. “They look good, don’t you think?” She nods. “I just know this is going to be so good,” she says. Your wife wastes little time to start digging into the noodles, and you swear you just hear a moan. “Oh, yeah, this is amazing,” she says.

It’s very heart-warming to see Chaehyun live life with such joyfulness after spending months seeing her stuck in a hospital bed. The thought alone is enough to make your eyes teary, and before you know it, a stray tear has flowed onto your cheek.

“Thank you for coming back, seriously,” you grip her free hand tightly, “you don’t know how much I’ve missed you.” Despite being startled initially, Chaehyun puts down her utensils so she can hold your hands. “Let’s live each and every day like it’s our last, love—we don’t know how long we can love each other like this.”

Her words shatter whatever semblance of control you have left, thus making you shed more tears. You don’t want your tears to be seen by people, so you cover your face as you cry. Chaehyun moves her seat around the table and hugs you from the side. “You love me so much, don’t you, love?” You can only nod wordlessly. “I love you that much too, you know,” she adds.

-

“Is there any way I can look at the memories we’ve made together?”

“Nudle probably has backups of our pictures and things like that,” you guess.

Chaehyun asks if you know her passwords, and you happen to have a note on your phone which has a list of usernames and passwords. “I don’t know if you’ve changed your password, though.” She says that it’s still worth trying, so you lend her your laptop.

Nudle asks Chaehyun to enter the code it just sent to her number, but obviously she doesn’t have access to her old phone as it got destroyed during the crash. “Is there any other way to log in?” There is indeed another way, which is by having Nudle send a code to your email address that serves as a recovery email. “Yeah, do that," you say. A few taps here and there, and voila—Chaehyun now has access to her old Nudle account and the cloud services it offers.

“I want to look at our pictures,” she says. Chaehyun gasps when she sees the number of photos saved on Nudle Box. “Oh my God, there’s so many.” You laugh. “It was your idea to take pictures every time we did something fun.” She looks at you with a smirk. “I bet you’re thankful for that.” “Oh certainly,” you say. “Now we have a way to help you peek into the past.”

Chaehyun looks at each picture with a high level of attention, making odd head gestures as she does. “Is there something wrong?” She furrows her eyebrows. “It just feels so weird—there’s proof that I went there and did that, but I don’t remember anything.” You shrug. “That’s just amnesia, I suppose.”

You notice the way your wife’s eyes get teary as she scrolls through the pictures. “I-I’m so sorry,” she’s about to break down any time now, “I-I don’t remember any of this.” You wrap an arm around her, pulling her closer to you. “It’s not your fault at all, sweetheart; we’ve talked about this.” “B-but I want to remember,” she argues. “Look at us, love—we looked so happy, no?”

You take a deep breath.

The picture that is displayed on the screen right now was taken at some point during a vacation to Switzerland, and you had had an argument with Chaehyun a few days before you left for vacation.

“We did, sweetheart, but it’s never all smiles and giggles with us; we’ve gone through tough times too, you know—times that I dare to say I’m grateful you’ve forgotten.”

“And whose fault is that?”

You’re stupefied.

It used to be Chaehyun who always had things to say, but it has always been you who escalated the conflict into full-blown arguments instead of directlyaddressing the issue.

“It’s mine, love—I’ve always been the bad guy for you.”

Chaehyun looks at you with wet eyes. “I want to love you the same way my old self has loved you, but you can’t treat me the same way you’ve treated my old self.” “I will treat you better—cross my heart,” you say, hoping that she can feel the sincerity. “You better, because I’m not going to give you a third chance.”

Chaehyun leaves the sofa, thus leaving you stuck in silence by yourself. Your eyes are fixed on the picture shown on the screen of the laptop. In it, you and your wife stood facing each other while smiling as if the two of you hadn’t fought a few days prior.

A part of you wonders if that’s what being hypocritical means, but the more you think about it, the more you realize that it’s just Chaehyun being so forgiving of your mistakes and shortcomings while you were too happy to be forgiven without even apologizing first.

“Love,” her voice snaps you out of your trance, “have a sip, please.” You take a sip of tea from the cup as asked. “Thank you,” you blurt. Chaehyun wraps her arms around you from behind. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to trip you with guilt.” You shake your head. “It’s not guilt-tripping if I’m really guilty.” “But you understood me, right?” You nod. “Yes, I did.”

Satisfied with your answer, Chaehyun gives you a peck to the top of your head. “I’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom.” You let your wife leave for the bedroom first while you sort yourself out. You think that this photo has a lot of meaning and lesson behind it, so before you turn off the laptop, you have it print the photo to be framed later.

You enter the bedroom with the printed photo in hand, and you see your wife sitting on the edge of the bed, her gaze aimed out the window. She then turns her head to look at you. “What’s that,” she asks. Chaehyun chuckles when she sees the photo. “What are you doing with that?” You tell her about your intention to frame it and place it on the bedside table, and she expresses her approval.

Chaehyun lies on her side and asks that you hug her from behind, so you do so right away.

“What were our dreams, love?”

“We wanted this marriage to be something upon which we build our ever-lasting happiness,” you answer.

“So, what have we done to make that come true?”

“Well, you’ve always been so patient with me all the time, and now I’ve realized that you must’ve felt like you were the only one trying to hold on to this relationship while I took your kindness for granted.”

You hear a deep exhale from her.

“I don’t know what my old self felt like, but I know for sure that this version of Kim Chaehyun doesn’t want to feel that way, so please, please don’t repeat whatever mistake you’ve made in the past.”

“I understand, love.”

-

You enter the house after another day of work.

Your nose is immediately overwhelmed by the heavenly smell while sizzling noises enter your ears.

Your wife appears from the kitchen with an apron covering the front of her body. “Welcome home,” she greets you. “Sorry, I haven’t finished yet; I miscalculated the time.” You assure her that she has nothing to be sorry for. “Thank you for taking the time, love—you didn’t have to, you know,” you say.

Chaehyun reveals that this afternoon, she dug through the house to find things she could use to rediscover herself. At one point during the search, she found her old recipe book, sitting tidily on one of the bookshelves. She asks whose writings were in the book, so you tell her that she was the one taking notes based on a lot of references, classifying recipes based on their difficulty levels and types. “I had someone make a website that will contain your recipes, but it’s not completed yet,” you add.

Chaehyun invites you to look at what she’s cooking. “I know this,” you say. “This is the ramen and grilled chicken on page 26.” She bursts out laughing. “You even remember the page number, huh?” You chuckle. “Eh, I only remember those that we mark with stars.”

Your wife looks confused. “Stars? What stars?” You grab the book from the counter and use page 4 as an example. “See this?” You place a finger on the star located on the bottom right. “Pages that are marked with this star are our favorites, and among them, we each have a top 3.”

Drool starts pooling in your mouth when Chaehyun lifts the cooked chicken from the grill. “Oh my God, look that that,” you exclaim. “I can already tell that’s going to be so tender and juicy.” Your wife cuts the chicken swiftly into strips after placing it on the cutting board. “Cooking must be ingrained in her DNA,” you think.

After a chain of skillful movements, the food is presented beautifully and ready to be eaten. “Help me put this on the table, please?” You organize the bowls accordingly while Chaehyun gets some other stuff sorted. She then quickly joins you at the table, sitting right across from you.

Chaehyun asks you to try the food first. The first thing you do is to get some broth in a spoon and take a sip. “Oh, my goodness,” you melt into the chair, “oh my God, this is amazing.” Chaehyun doesn’t believe you; she thinks you’re exaggerating to make her feel good about herself. “I mean, you’re free to try it yourself.” Chaehyun does the same thing you did, and she also melts into the chair like you did. “So, do you believe me now?” She nods vehemently, amazed by the result of her own work. “It’s super good,” she says.

The two of you barely speak, too busy devouring the food in front of you. Before you know it, you’re down to the last bite.

“Oh, God, that was so good.” Chaehyun laughs at you. “Must’ve felt so good after not having home-cooked meal in a year,” she quips. “Absolutely,” you say. “It’s great to have you with me again, and I don’t care if I sound like a broken record.” Her soft hand meets yours. “Remember what I said about chances, okay?” You know right away what she’s referring to. “Of course; I’ve burned your words into memory.”

-

You find yourself lying in bed with your wife after dinner, spooning her from behind like usual. You’re reminded about something. “I’m super late, but happy birthday,” you say. “When is my birthday?” “The 26th of April, which also happened to be the day you woke up from coma.”

She turns around to face you. "What did we do on our birthdays, love?” You take a deep breath first. “We usually celebrate by having sex,” you say. Chaehyun doesn’t believe you, saying that you’re just horny after the special dinner. “I mean, I have proof.” She chuckles. “Of course you do.”

You show Chaehyun some pictures on your phone that are secured behind biometric locks. Her jaw drops; there’s a picture of her with your shaft between her lips taken two years ago, precisely on the 26th of April. Not only that, but there’s also a video, taken on the 5th of January (your birthday), that shows Chaehyun taking you in the ass from behind.

“See, I’m not lying,” you say. Her eyes are still locked on the screen. “We’ve done… anal?” Just remembering what happened that night arouses you. “Erm, yes, this was our first time trying it.” A mix of a sigh and a laugh flies out of her lips. “There’s no hole you’ve never used, huh?”

Chaehyun moves to sit on your lap. “So, are we doing it, or?” You gulp. “Do you want to?” She giggles. “It’s tradition, is it not—besides, you haven’t touched me at all since I came home.” Before you can say anything else, your wife undoes her hair bun, thus making you breathless. “Let’s do it, my dear husband.”

Your wife bends down to kiss you. “Her lips still taste the same,” you think. You’re delighted to see that Chaehyun doesn’t try pulling away from the kiss like she often did. “Did you miss me, by any chance?” She giggles. “Of course I did; you’re my husband—I can’t speak for other women, but I like my husband’s company.”

With her feelings about you confirmed, you pull her into another kiss. “Mm,” she mumbles. “I hope you kept yourself… clean while I was asleep.” You’re almost offended; you didn’t even dare touch yourself, let alone have another woman touch you. “Absolutely; only you are allowed to touch me,” you assure her.

A mysterious frown appears on her face.

“Then who the fuck is Choi Yujin?”

You almost burst out laughing; Choi Yujin is your sister-in-law, and if you remember correctly, she called you a few weeks ago to tell you about her and your brother’s plan to go on vacation. Also, it’s worth noting that Yujin has no reason to seek sexual pleasure from anyone but her husband.

“I really hope you’re not lying,” she says. You shake your head. “You can either take my words, or we can look at some pictures again.” She chuckles. “Just how many pictures do you have saved, love, hm?” You laugh a little. “Almost enough to tell our entire story.”

Chaehyun then tugs at the waistband of your shorts. “I want to look at you,” she says. “Feel free to strip me.” With your permission, your wife pushes your shorts down all the way, tossing them onto the floor after. She gulps when she sees the print of your shaft on your boxers. “And you took my innocence with this?” You nod. “We were each other’s first.”

Chaehyun decides that only looking at the outline of your cock isn’t enough; she wants to see the whole thing in its full glory. Your cock springs into stiffness, and she immediately takes it in her hands (because one hand just isn’t enough).

“Goodness me,” she exclaims as she begins stroking you. “I must’ve screamed a lot when you took my virginity.” You chuckle a little at the memory from that night. “Let’s just say the neighbors weren’t happy about the noises,” you say. “I bet they weren’t.”

Chaehyun moves around until her entrance is hovering closely over the tip of your shaft. “May I?” You nod, and with your green light, she lowers herself onto you. “Oh, God, you’re tearing me apart.” You wonder if it’s purely a coincidence that she says the same thing she did that night. “Thank you for the genes, dad.” Your small joke makes her let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, thank him for the genes.”

Chaehyun starts grinding her crotch against yours, moaning freely as she gets reacquainted with your size. She keeps taking deep breaths every now and then, showing signs of being overwhelmed. “Are you okay?” She nods weakly. “J-just lack of practice,” she says. Chaehyun jokes that you should’ve had sex with her during her coma so that her vaginal muscles didn’t forget you. “Yeah, well, they would’ve sent me to prison without bothering to make a stop at the court.”

Having felt comfortable after a few minutes, Chaehyun begins moving her hips slowly up and down along your length. “Take it easy, baby; there’s no need to rush.” She nods to your reminder, but you can see in her eyes that she wants to go fast sooner than later—the same look of passion from her previous life.

“I love you, sweetheart.” Those four words turn out to be the spark she needs to ignite the fire in her heart: she’s now moving faster and in turn, moaning louder than before. “You’re amazing at this, aren’t you?” She can’t say anything back; your cock that’s lodged in her tight lips is overwhelming her brain.

Exhaustion leads her to plopping down onto your torso, and you do your best to whisper affirmations and sweet nothings while she’s close to you. “I-I love you too,” she whispers back. “H-how many times have we done this?”

You do the calculation in your head: your regular sex schedule was twice—sometimes thrice—a week. Take that number and multiply by the number of years you’ve been married (minus a year because of her comatose) and add the extra celebratory sessions, it totals almost 500.

“You’ve stretched me agape 500 times, huh?” You laugh. “Ah, also, that number doesn’t include the anal and other naughty sessions.” She slaps you on the chest. “I got it the first time; you’ve used all my holes.” You pinch her waist lightly. “I don’t like the word use; everything we did was with our mutual consent.”

Chaehyun lifts her head to look at you. “I want to feel you in my anus again—I consent, so don’t worry.” Your eyebrows furrow. “We’re going all the way this quickly?” She pauses momentarily. “Well, I… don’t know.” You rub her cheek softly. “We have plenty of time, my love—there’s no need to have all the fun right now.”

After the short pause, Chaehyun expresses her desire to start again but says that she’s too tired to ride you to completion. “Let’s do it the old-fashioned way,” you say. You roll over until you’re on top of her, resting your chest on her plump breasts. “I won’t lie, I miss these.” You squeeze her tits, thus earning some soft moans from her. “I-I can tell,” she replies.

You ask for her permission to put your mouth on her tits. “Go on, then,” she urges you. Chaehyun gasps when your lips meet her breast, going as far as arching her back. “Yes, daddy.” The shock puts you to a sudden halt—surely not, right? “What’s that?” Her cheeks are painted red. “D-daddy,” she repeats shyly. “How did you… when did you… what?”

Chaehyun hides her red-as-tomato face behind her palms. She then proceeds to explain (while stuttering) that she found a little diary which had a brown leather cover in a drawer in the wardrobe. “Brown?” Your mind scrambles to figure out what diary she’s referring to. “Wait, what did the cover say?” “Erm, it said sex-capades.” Your suspicion is confirmed; she found the old sex diary the two of you used to maintain.

You chuckle. “How much of it did you read?” “N-not much, j-just a few pages.” You softly guide her palms off her face. “We’ve always been so into each other, sexually speaking.” She still can’t look at you in the eyes. “S-some of the entries sounded like porn, though.” You laugh. “Like the daddy kink?” She nods. “What if I told you that it was your idea, love, hm?” Her blush thickens. “T-then I must’ve been very… naughty.”

You turn your focus back on the intimacy of vanilla sex, moving your hips back and forth slowly to fully enjoy the way her tight walls are hugging your shaft. “My love,” she calls to you breathily. “You’re so good—you make me feel so good.” You’ve missed this type of affirmation from your wife. “You’re also making me feel so good, baby,” you return her words.

You straighten your posture as you prepare to pick up the pace, but before you start, “Love, we’re going to finish this soon, if that’s okay with you.” She nods, saying that she’s also not too far off from her own finish line. “Make me scream your name,” she adds.

Chaehyun’s eyes widen when she sees you put her ankles on your shoulders. “Y-you’re going to ruin me, aren’t you?” You smile. “Something like that.” She gulps to swallow the nervousness that’s stuck in her throat. “I-I surrender myself to you, my love,” she declares. “Just… don’t hurt me too much, please.”

You opt to start slowly at first and then gradually pick up the pace as you go while keeping an eye on your wife’s reactions. You indeed don’t want to put too much pressure on your wife. “So far so good, right?” She nods. “I-I’m going to be so sore.” You chuckle. “Well, the good thing is, you don’t need to leave the house.”

When you reach maximum pace, Chaehyun’s moans get louder. The high level of stimulation has her gripping and scratching the sheets as she’s getting overwhelmed by you. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You’ve missed hearing her curse during sex. Not only are you delighted with it, but you’re also proud of yourself because you’re still able to perform well in bed.

“Close, darling?” You weren’t looking at her face when you said it, and now that you do, you see that she’s not able to answer: her teary eyes are rolling backwards, and her mouth is stuck open (with drool dripping down the corners of her lips).

“Love, are you okay?” You pause for a moment to check on her. She weakly lifts a hand and shows you a thumbs-up. “Too much?” Chaehyun nods weakly. “F-finish it, please,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

You return to your previous pace, only this time, you’re paying more attention to your wife. “Not too long now, sweetie,” you announce as orgasm approaches. When your cock starts throbbing wildly, you stick it as deep as you can into her and just… let go.

“Oh, God, baby,” you blurt breathlessly. You then quickly pull out your cock, not caring whether it leaks onto the bed, and pull her into your arms. “God, I’m so sorry, love.” She grunts a little. “I-it’s okay—I-I’m just… tired.”

You keep her in a cuddle for minutes until she regains a bit of strength. “H-have we always been this crazy?” You sigh. “Not all the time, no; it’s just that I’ve missed us so much.” A small smile appears on her face. “I-I suppose that’s fair, then.”

-

You lower your wife carefully into the bathtub that’s partially filled with warm water. With her leaning against yours, you help her clean up the front part of her body, making sure your touch is gentle throughout the process.

“Love, can you say anything, please,” you inquire. You hear a deep sigh from her. “I’m sore,” she says. “I feel like there’s a hole between my legs.” You apologize for being too rough on her first sex after her return, and she accepts it.

“You said you didn’t even touch yourself?”

“No, I didn’t; I felt like that would equal to betraying you.”

Chaehyun chuckles. “Well, I suppose that’s fair, then.”

Chaehyun proceeds to ask about the diaries she found this afternoon. “Love, who is Lee Jungwon—I saw that name a few times.” You sigh. “It was only a matter of time until you ask about him.” Your response leaves Chaehyun puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Lee Jungwon was the man your father wanted you to marry, but obviously, you ended up with me.” Chaehyun’s forehead furrows in confusion. “No offense to you, love, but why didn’t I marry him?” You sigh again. “He, erm—well, let’s just say he had done some less-manly things to you.” She starts getting nervous. “Like what?”

You close your eyes as you prepare an answer for her, taking a few deep breaths as you judge whether you should make it light or not. Eventually, you decide that it’s likely best that she hears about everything.

“Love, you didn’t exactly lose your innocence to me; you had lost it a year prior to Lee Jungwon—he, erm, he had forced himself onto you.” Chaehyun is stunned. “How did that happen, though?" You try to stay composed in front of her. “He had tricked you into going out with him, and when you were drunk, he, erm, did that.”

Your wife bursts into tears, and you’re starting to regret answering the question this way. You guess that explaining further will only hurt her more, so you choose to stay quiet for now. You’re not just sitting there, though; your hand is still rubbing her belly gently to help her calm down.

You let Chaehyun cry to her heart’s content, but it doesn’t seem like she will stop so soon. “He’s been in prison for a few years now—I hope that makes you feel better.” She shakes her head. She says that she’s more concerned about losing her first to a man like that instead of you, her legally wed husband.

Her words force yet another sigh out of you. “Your father was adamant that we got married so that no one else would’ve known about your predicament.” The water in the tub splashes around as Chaehyun turns around to face you. “But you didn’t marry me out of pity, did you?” “No, absolutely not—I love you, you know,” you assure her. “I had been keeping a secret crush on you, and when your father told me about the change of plan, I was over the moon.” “Y-you—” A sniffle interrupts her. “Y-you had other options and still chose me?” You tell her that you had no one else; for you, it was Kim Chaehyun or live alone until you die.

Chaehyun crashes into your body for a hug.

“I-I’m so sorry, my love.”

“No, love, it wasn’t your fault at all.”

“B-but—”

You cut her off by kissing her.

“Not your fault, love,” you repeat. “None of this was your fault.”

-

You’re now back in bed after that eventful shower, spooning her from behind like usual.

“My love,” she calls to you, “can we burn those diaries?” It sounds like a decent idea, but at the same time, Chaehyun won’t be able to look at the history of your relationship. “I don’t care about the past,” she says. “I’m offering you my future—a blank slate, if you will.”

You ask if she wants to burn down the brown sex diary as well. “Well, no,” she chuckles, “I need that one for… research.” You chuckle as you try to not get aroused again. “Alright, I guess we can get rid of the rest, then.”

Chaehyun turns around to face you. “Speaking of the sex diary, can we try something next time?” Your eyebrows rise. “Can I get a spoiler?” She taps her chin as if seriously considering giving you a sneak peek. “I’ll just say I got it from page 5.” You don’t remember the content of this diary as you do the recipe book, but when you ask further, her cheeks turn deep red. “Yeah, okay, then; I’m down to do whatever it is.” Chaehyun gives you a fleeting kiss before turning around again.

“We’ll have a lot of fun, I promise.”

[capquinn]

i’ve had this thought in my brain for weeks now

bug being protective over cub & bossing jack around the first time he meets them, like telling him he’s holding him wrong and jacks just trying to explain to her that he’s in fact held a baby before (her) while Quinn & you watch the interaction between them, holding back laughs but pride fills in Quinn’s chest when he sees her little hand land on jack’s as they both hold cub’s head while still arguing with each other

(??? did that make sense? hopefully it does, i am terrible at wording my thoughts)

it's so satisfying when you guys send something in that just affirms how i imagine the relationship dynamics in my dad!quinn au work lol like, jack and bug's entire relationships built upon playful teasing and mutual adoration. from the time she was a tiny toddler, jack’s made it his mission to poke and prod, to tease and taunt, just to see that fiery little reaction of hers. and bug eats it up every single time. and this is just another one of those moments, y'know? <3 love u nonny <3

Jack is sprawled on the sofa, his usual effortless ease nowhere to be found as he cradles Cub in his arms. The baby, barely a week old, looks impossibly small against his uncle's broad frame, his tiny face soft with the contentment of deep sleep. Quinn had passed him over just moments ago, his hands lingering a beat too long as if reluctant to let go of his son, recalling how nervous his brother had been when he first held baby Bug.

Beside Jack sits Bug, cross-legged and leaning in so close she might as well be holding Cub herself. She’s been radiating excitement since the moment her uncles arrived, her pride of being a big sister matched only by her enthusiasm for showing off her new baby brother. Her big eyes are fixed on Jack’s every move, her gaze laser-focused on how he’s holding Cub.

And then she sees it — a flicker of hesitation, so brief it might’ve gone unnoticed by anyone else, as Jack shifts his grip, trying to find the most comfortable way to hold such a tiny bundle. It’s subtle, but to Bug, it’s a glaring red flag.

“You need to hold his head, Uncle Jacky,” she blurts out, her voice urgent and authoritative.

Jack’s head snaps up, brows lifting in amusement as he glances over at you and Quinn, wordlessly asking if you’re going to do something about this. But when all he’s met with is Quinn’s poorly concealed grin and the way your shoulders shake with silent laughter, he huffs out a breath, shaking his head.

“Bug,” he drawls, lips twitching, “I’ve held a baby before.”

Bug doesn’t even flinch. Arms now folded across her chest, her little chin lifted in defiance, she looks like a pint-sized version of her dad — full of unwavering authority.

“Not this baby,” she counters, her voice firm, her big eyes locked onto him, dead serious. “You can’t let his head wobble.”

Jack lets out a huff, shifting Cub ever so slightly in his grip — more for dramatic effect than anything else.

“I held you when you were a baby, you know.”

Bug doesn’t hesitate, her little chin lifting defiantly. “Did you do that wrong, too?”

Quinn exhales sharply beside you, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from outright laughing. His arm tightens around your shoulders, fingers digging into your skin as if to say, 'are you hearing this?' You are, and it’s taking everything in you not to crack up at the way Jack looks personally victimised by a three-year-old.

Jack exhales through his nose, levelling Bug with a long look before turning his attention back to Cub, adjusting his grip.

“Your dad’s been feeding you attitude, huh?”

Bug tilts her head, eyes narrowed in consideration before shaking her head.

“Nuh-uh,” she says, all confidence, all offended. “I get it all on my own.”

Jack lets out a short laugh, finally cracking a proper grin, but Bug still isn’t satisfied. She leans forward, tiny fingers curling around Jack’s much larger hand, guiding it to rest just a little more securely under Cub’s head, like she’s personally responsible for making sure he gets this right.

And Quinn — Quinn feels it like a punch to the chest. That little hand, so small, so sure, resting on Jack’s, bridging the gap between them with the kind of effortless confidence only Bug could possess. She’s so serious about this, so certain, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration, completely in her element. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing — this is her baby brother, and it’s her job to make sure he’s safe. And Jack, for all his teasing, for all the ways he loves to rile her up just to get a reaction, lets her. He lets her correct him, lets her boss him around, and even as he pretends to scoff, he listens.

Quinn swallows against the tightness in his throat, that warm, overwhelming ache expanding in his chest, stretching through his ribs, wrapping around his heart like a vice. He watches the way Bug’s tiny hand still rests atop Jack’s, the way their hands together — so big and small, so different and yet somehow the same — cradle Cub’s fragile little head.

“There,” she says, satisfied, giving him a firm nod, like he’s finally — finally — done something right.

Jack doesn’t argue this time, doesn’t try to bait her for a reaction. He just watches her for a moment, something softer settling into his features before his eyes flicker back down to the baby in his arms.

“Alright, alright,” he mutters, adjusting his grip just slightly. “See? All good.”

Bug exhales dramatically. Watching. Waiting. Her eyes stay locked on him, unrelenting, flicking between the tiny, sleeping baby and the way Jack’s hands cradle him. She’s assessing him — judging him, really — and it’s clear by the slight frown tugging at her lips that she’s unimpressed.

Jack huffs, glancing across the room at Quinn, who’s leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, looking far too entertained.

“Does she do this to you?” he asks, exasperated.

Bug’s head snaps toward her uncle so fast her pigtails bounce. She blinks at him, brows furrowed, her nose scrunching up in genuine confusion like he’s just asked her if the sky is green.

“No,” she says immediately, her voice dripping with casual certainty.

Jack squints. “No?”

Bug shakes her head once, definitive.

“No,” she repeats, louder this time, like she needs to be crystal clear. “He holds Cub just right. He never lets his head wobble, and he’s really careful.” She gives Jack a pointed look. Way more careful than you. “’Cause he’s the best daddy in the whole wide world.”

And just like that, Quinn feels something deep in his chest crack wide open. He wasn’t expecting that, the sincerity in her voice, the sheer certainty of it, the way she didn’t even hesitate. It isn’t the first time she’s said something like this, but it still knocks the air right out of his lungs.

Quinn lets out a slow breath, pressing his knuckles against his lips like it might keep his smile in check — not that it works.

Jack scoffs, adjusting his grip on Cub. “Okay, but, like — he drops stuff all the time,” he points out, jabbing his chin in Quinn’s direction. “You really think he’s never messed up?”

Bug levels him with a stare so serious it nearly makes him laugh. “He doesn’t drop babies,” she says, slow and deliberate, like she needs to make sure Jack understands just how ridiculous he sounds.

Jack huffs. “Yeah, well, I haven’t dropped a baby either.”

Bug squints at him, her little nose scrunching in suspicion. “Are you sure?”

Jack groans, looking toward the ceiling like it might give him strength. “Yes, Bug. I’m sure.”

Bug hums, tapping her chin like she’s deep in thought. Then, finally: “I’ll ask Nana.”

Jack’s jaw drops. “Seriously?”

Bug nods, entirely serious. “Yup.”

Jack lets out a dramatic groan, tilting his head back against the couch like he’s physically burdened by Bug’s relentless scrutiny.

“You’re really gonna rat me out to Nana for something I haven’t even done?”

Bug shrugs, utterly unbothered.

“Just checking,” she replies, as if it’s the most reasonable thing in the world.

Then, deciding she’s wasted enough time entertaining Jack’s nonsense, she turns her focus back to Cub, who’s still fast asleep in his uncle’s arms.

Jack exhales, long and slow, as if resigning himself to the fact that he’s simply never going to win against his niece. But Bug isn’t done with him yet. Without a word, she leans in closer, pressing against his side, her little fingers reaching out to stroke the back of Cub’s cheek. The movement is featherlight, careful, intentional — a perfect mimicry of the way she’s seen you do it a hundred times since he came home from the hospital.

She watches Cub’s face with the same serious focus she’s had all evening, scanning for any sign of distress, any indication that Jack has, in fact, been doing it wrong. After a long moment, she nods, like a judge delivering a final verdict.

“He’s still sleeping,” she says at last, almost reluctantly. Then, with a great deal of emphasis, “so, I guess you’re doing okay.”

Jack lets out a breathy, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. “Gee. Thanks, Bug. That means a lot.”

Bug just nods again, completely satisfied with herself, but she doesn’t move away. She stays perched at his side, keeping a very close eye on him, like she’s still waiting for him to mess up.

And Jack, well — he can’t help himself. He decides to push his luck, laughing a little louder than necessary, his chest shaking with the effort.

Cub stirs just slightly — his tiny body shifting, his mouth parting in sleep — but he doesn’t fuss, doesn’t wake. It’s barely even a movement.

But to Bug? Unacceptable.

Her head snaps up, her little brows knitting together in immediate disapproval.

“Uncle Jack,” she whispers harshly, voice filled with pure, unimpressed authority. “You need to be more careful.”

Jack groans, letting his head fall back against the couch again, his whole body sagging.

“Bug!”

[willowsnook]

Off Limits Pt. 2

Joe Burrow x Kelce!sister

pt. 1 here

—------------------------------------- Sunlight streamed through the window as you stirred, blinking your eyes open and taking in the unfamiliar room around you. Something heavy was weighing down your stomach, and you looked down to see Joe’s arm tightly wrapped around your waist. As you noticed you weren’t wearing anything besides an oversized LSU t-shirt, memories of the previous night flooded back.

Let’s just say Mr. Cool lived up to his reputation.

Trying to quietly slip out of his grasp, you were almost off the bed when you felt his arm tighten and pull you back into his chest.

“Where are you going?” he mumbled sleepily.

“I need to pee,” you complained, trying to wiggle out of his grip. This only meant your ass was moving against him, causing a groan to escape his mouth. He quickly moved to where he was hovering over you, pressing his covered bulge right against your core.

“Joe…”

He ignored you, bringing his lips down to suck on your neck, leaving new marks over the ones from last night.

“Yes?”

“I need to get up,” you whined, gasping as he ground into you again. “Just come with me into the shower.”

He perked up at that, sliding off the bed and pulling you along with him. Round two was more sensual than the rough fucking that took place last night, so stepping out of the shower, you were very satisfied and clean.

Luckily, you had made Joe stop by your hotel last night to grab a change of clothes for today. You slipped the t-shirt over your head and pulled up your leggings before wandering out into the kitchen, where Joe was making coffee.

“Cream? Sugar?” he offered, handing you a cup.

“Just milk if you have it,” you replied. He turned to the fridge, pulling out a carton to hand to you.

“When are you flying back?” he asked.

“Tomorrow morning,” you said, bringing the mug to your lips.

“Can I have you for the day?” he asked, looking at you hopefully, and you felt your heart flutter.

“Perhaps,” you teased. “You have to come to family dinner tonight, though.”

“Damn, sex on the first date, hanging with the fam on the second. Am I flying back to Philly with you to get married tomorrow?” he joked, and you laughed.

“Last night was not a date,” you said, and he frowned playfully at you.

“You wound me,” he pouted, stepping in front of where you were sitting on the barstool. He leaned down, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

“Let’s go.”

—--------------------------------------

The Cincinnati Zoo was buzzing with activity—families with kids running around, couples strolling hand in hand, and a few groups of teenagers trying to act too cool to be excited about the animals. The second you walked through the entrance, Joe slipped on a pair of sunglasses and tugged a hoodie over his head, attempting to be low-key.

“You look like you’re about to commit a crime,” you teased, nudging him as he adjusted his hood.

“Just trying to enjoy my day without getting swarmed,” he replied, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Unless you want our first real date to be interrupted by a bunch of fans?”

You smirked. “Are you sure you don’t want people to see you with me? Scared my brothers might find out?”

Joe scoffed. “Oh, they’ll find out eventually. I’d just like to delay the execution as long as possible.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but laugh.

As you walked through the zoo, Joe was surprisingly into it. He made you stop at nearly every exhibit, taking his time reading the signs and pointing out random facts like he was some kind of animal expert.

“I feel like you studied for this,” you said as you stood in front of the gorilla enclosure, watching as one of them lazily chewed on a piece of fruit.

Joe shrugged. “What can I say? I like to be prepared.”

You hummed in amusement. “So, what’s your favorite animal?”

Without hesitation, he pointed toward the tigers. “Big cat guy.”

You smirked. “So you see yourself as a tiger?”

“I mean, they’re strong, strategic, and a little intimidating.” He turned to you with a smirk. “Sounds familiar, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “I was gonna say they sleep a lot.”

Joe laughed, nudging you playfully as you continued through the zoo.

The two of you stopped at the orangutan exhibit next, leaning against the railing as you watched them interact.

“I like them,” you said.

Joe glanced over. “Yeah? Why?”

“They’re family-oriented,” you said simply. “They take care of each other.”

Joe was quiet for a moment before he spoke again, his voice softer. “That’s important to you, huh?”

You turned to look at him, nodding. “Yeah. My family’s everything to me.”

He met your gaze, and for a moment, it felt like he wanted to say something more. Instead, he reached out and casually took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

You looked down at your joined hands, then back up at him. “Joe?”

He shrugged like it was no big deal. “What? Can’t hold my date’s hand?”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t let go.

As you neared the entrance again, you heard your stomach growl, and Joe looked over at you with amusement.

“Hungry?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Gotta feed my girl.”

“Not your girl, Joey,” you said, rolling your eyes but smiling.

“Not yet,” he commented, and your mind raced, but he just pulled you along.

A short drive later, you were on the rooftop of a brewery, sipping on a beer while waiting for the chicken tenders you ordered to come out. You and Joe were chatting about how his summer workouts were going when you heard a very familiar voice call out to you.

“Well, look what we have here,” Jason said, eyes narrowed as he looked between you and Joe.

“I tried to keep his attention away,” Kylie told you apologetically.

You hung your head in defeat, as a look of panic stayed visible on Joe’s face.

“Mind if we join you?” Jason asked, already sitting down across from Joe.

“Not at all,” you muttered.

Joe cleared his throat nervously, shifting in his seat as Jason’s intense gaze bore into him. “Hey man, how’s it going?”

Jason ignored the question, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “So, Joe. Mind telling me what you’re doing out with my little sister?”

You rolled your eyes. “Jason, I’m a grown woman. I can go out with whoever I want.”

“Oh, I know that,” Jason replied, not taking his eyes off Joe. “I just want to hear it from him.”

Joe straightened up, meeting Jason’s stare. “We’re on a date. I like your sister, and I’m interested in getting to know her better.”

A tense silence fell over the table. You held your breath, waiting for Jason’s reaction. To your surprise, a slow grin spread across his face.

“Well, alright then,” Jason said, picking up the menu to look over.

You gave him a bizarre look before turning to Kylie, who was trying not to laugh.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you two leaving together last night, though, but that’s just a conversation for me and Joe.”

You groaned, resting your face in your hands.

The rest of lunch went smoothly and thankfully wasn’t awkward. Joe and Jason just talked about the upcoming season while you and Kylie chimed in every once in a while.

Afterward, you ended up walking around downtown, slipping into a boutique with Kylie while the boys waited outside.

You browsed the racks, sifting through the store’s new summer collection while Kylie hovered nearby.

"Just ask what you want to ask," you told her, tired of her silence.

"How was it?" she asked, smirking. You knew immediately what she was referring to.

"He might have ruined the chance of me ever enjoying sex with anyone else for the rest of my life," you said, shooting her a wink.

She laughed loudly, and you tried to shush her.

"What's the deal, then? It’s obviously not just sex if you've spent the whole day together," she pressed, and you sighed.

"I don't know," you admitted. "I like him, but he lives here, and I don’t. We both have crazy work schedules, so it kind of feels like I’m playing pretend until we have to go back."

Kylie nodded sympathetically. "I get that. Long distance is tough, especially with your schedules. But hey, if you both really like each other, maybe it's worth trying?"

You shrugged, picking up a cute sundress to examine. "Maybe. I just don't want to get my hopes up, you know?"

"Well, from what I've seen today, Joe seems pretty smitten," Kylie said with a grin. "And trust me, Jason wouldn't be so cool about it if he didn’t think Joe was serious."

You raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Oh yeah," Kylie laughed. "If Jason thought Joe was just messing around, he’d be in full protective big brother mode right now."

"Oh please, he already is. You know he’s out there scaring the shit out of Joe right now," you giggled.

Both of you glanced out the window. Sure enough, Jason was speaking animatedly to Joe, pointing a finger at him.

"Let’s go save him," she sighed, and you followed her outside.

Joe looked relieved to see you, and you narrowed your eyes at your brother, who was trying his best to look innocent.

You slipped your hand into Joe’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Everything okay out here?"

"Just fine," Jason said a little too cheerfully. "Joe and I were just having a friendly chat."

Joe nodded, though his eyes betrayed his relief at your return. "Yeah, just… catching up."

You rolled your eyes. "Uh-huh. Well, if you're done 'catching up,' we should probably head back. We've got that family dinner tonight, remember?"

"Right," Jason said, clapping Joe on the shoulder. "Looking forward to it, buddy."

As you walked away, you leaned in close to Joe. "What did he say to you?"

Joe chuckled nervously. "Oh, you know. The usual ‘hurt her and I'll kill you’ speech. But he also threw in some creative threats involving the offensive line and the game against the Eagles."

"That’s honestly pretty mild coming from him," you mused.

You glanced at your phone. "I need to go back to my hotel to change and just chill for a little bit. Want to come with me or meet back up later?"

"I’ll come," he said, and you smiled.

"You can’t distract me from getting ready, though," you warned.

He smirked, his eyes flickering down to your lips. "No promises."

Back at the hotel, you were in the bathroom applying makeup while Joe lounged on the bed, flipping through the channels.

Your phone buzzed beside him, and curiosity got the better of him. He glanced over and saw a notification about your flight tomorrow. That’s when it hit him—you were actually leaving.

When you came out of the bathroom, you frowned at the tense look on his face.

"What’s wrong?" you asked, walking over to him.

"I don’t want you to leave tomorrow," he said quietly, and your heart sank.

"I don’t want to leave either, but my life is back in Philly," you said softly.

Joe sat up, running a hand through his hair. "I know, I know. It’s just… I really like you. And I don’t want this to just be a weekend fling."

You sat down next to him on the bed, taking his hand in yours. "I really like you too, Joe. But we live in different cities, and we both have demanding careers. How would this even work?"

He turned to face you, his eyes intense. "We could make it work. We both travel a lot for our jobs anyway. We could visit each other on off weeks, make time for calls and FaceTime. I'm willing to try if you are."

You chewed on your lip, thinking. The silence stretched between you, heavy with uncertainty.

"Okay," you said finally.

"Okay?" he asked, hopeful.

"I’m willing to try it out," you agreed. "But the second I feel like I’m a distraction to your season, we’re re-evaluating."

"Fine," he said, a hint of a smile on his face. He reached out, pulling you into his lap. "How much time until we have to leave?"

[insidekatmind]

Teacher’s pet~Cho Sang-woo

Wearning: +18,smut,agep gap.

Request: yes!

Math class was over, but you were still there, sitting at your desk, while the other students were walking out, chatting among themselves. Cho Sang-woo, your teacher, had called your attention just before the bell rang.

"Stay a moment after class," he had said in that calm, authoritative tone that was so natural to him.

This was nothing new to you. Ever since he had become your teacher, you had attracted his attention with your constant effort and thirst for knowledge. You had always tried your best to shine in his classes, and he seemed to appreciate it. Maybe a little too much.

When the classroom emptied, Sang-woo motioned for you to sit on his lap, and you obeyed.

He smiled and caressed your bare thigh as he looked at you intently. "You exceeded my expectations once again," he began, making you purr.

You smile at his words and thank him. You loved compliments especially if they came from Sang woo, your favorite professor. He chuckles softly in return, appreciating your pleasant reaction. His smile is rare, but it's even more so when he offers it to you. His hand continues rubbing your thigh, gently kneading the soft flesh.

"I notice that you've been studying quite diligently," he observes, "always putting so much effort." You nod smiling.

He smiles back at you, his expression one of slight affection - not that he'd let that show too much, but you know him well enough to notice that subtle change. "It's good to see a student that actually cares about learning," he says, running his hand up your leg.

Smile at his words and his caresses. You loved these moments with him. “Thank you professor,” you say softly, looking at him longingly. His gaze meets yours, a hint of desire in his eyes mixed with his usual composure. He's very good at keeping his feelings at bay, but you could see through him, and he knew it well. He leans in closer to you, his hand now on your hip, pulling you closer.

"You know," he begins, his voice a little more low and sensual, "you're the best student I have." His eyes roam over your body intently, taking in every inch.You smile biting your lip. You loved hearing his compliments.

He notices your reaction, a small smirk appearing on his face. He gently pushes a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers trailing down your cheek. "You look good like this," he murmurs. You blush at his words and lean into his touch.

Many students envied you seeing how you looked longingly at Sang woo and how he paid more attention to you than the others,

He's aware of how much attention you pay to him, and it makes him feel a sense of power. It's a dangerous game, and he knows he's playing with fire, but he can't help it. He wants you. And he knows you want him too.His hand runs down your neck, his touch leaving a burning trail on your skin. "You're mine, aren't you?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, full of possession and desire.

You close your eyes for a second smiling, loving his touch. You felt the heat and could feel your panties getting wet. “yes I am yours” you whisper looking at him. He smiles at your words, a possessive look in his eyes. "Good girl," he says, his hand moving around to the back of your neck, gently tilting your head up. "Only mine."

You felt even more excited at his words and you loved when he called you a good girl and Sang-woo knew it too. He knew exactly the effect he had on you, and he enjoyed it immensely. He loved seeing your excitement, how you reacted to him. It made him feel in control, powerful. He pushed your hair to the side, exposing your neck, and leaned in close, his lips hovering just above your skin. "You can only look at me like that," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "No one else." His lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses, possessive and claiming.

You moan softly and close your eyes worshiping his lips on your skin. He smirks at your soft moan and continues kissing your neck, moving lower, to your collarbone. His hand slides around to your waist, gripping it possessively. "Only mine," he repeats, his words almost a growl, full of jealousy and desire.

His hand under your shirt, rubbing the soft skin he found there. "No one can have you like I do," He said between kisses. He moves closer to your chest, his nose now against your ear. "No one," he whispers hotly, almost as if he said it to himself.

You groan and nod at his words, agreeing with him. “I only want you,” you whisper. Sang-woo grins against your skin, enjoying your answer. "Good. Because I don't want to share you with anyone." He moves his hand to your chin, gently tilting your head up so that you look at him. His eyes are fixed on you, intense and possessive. "You're mine. Only mine."

Sang woo takes off your shirt and unbuttons your bra, placing them on his desk and starts licking your left nipple while his hand squeezes your right. You moan and arch to give him more space. He smirks, watching your reaction to his every touch. He's always enjoyed being the one in control, and seeing you react so sensitively to him only fueled his desire. He slowly twirls his tongue around your nipple, teasing you.

"You look so good like this," he murmurs, his free hand running down your side to your hip. "So sensitive... all for me."He takes your nipple between his teeth, gently biting, and you arch into him.

You moan loudly and grind against him. “so good” you moan putting your hand on his hair to give him more pressure. He smiles against your skin, enjoying your reaction. He loves seeing you this way, this vulnerable. He takes your nipple between his teeth again, biting a little harder this time, making you gasp. "Yes, so good," he nurmured.

He moves one hand down between your legs, feeling your panties. "So wet already," he murmurs against your skin. "Are you this desperate for me?" You whimper at his words and fingers. “Yes” you murmur longingly looking at him with lust.

He growls softly, his fingers rubbing against you through your panties, "You're such a good girl for me." He moves his lips to your neck, kissing and biting, leaving small marks on your skin. You moan at his touch and grind on his fingers. “Please,” you moan desperately.

He chuckles at your plea, enjoying the way you're begging him. "Please what?" he asks, feigning ignorance as he rubs you through your panties. "Use your words." He wanted to hear you say it, make you squirm, make you beg. He was in complete control, and he was loving every second.

“please, touch me” you beg, looking at him as you grind on his fingers. He grins wickedly. "Beg more," he orders, his fingers still rubbing against you, but not giving you the touch you want. "You can do better than that." You whimper at his words begging and begging for more. Sang-woo moans feeling how wet I was for him.

"That's it. Good girl," he says, finally satisfied with your begging. His hand moves under your waist, pulling you even closer. He kisses you with need and want. You moan into the kiss feeling him put a finger in your pussy and move it.

He loved hearing your moans, proof that he was the one who could make you feel this way, the one who had you on the palm of his hand. Sang –woo moved his tongue in sync against yours, feeling every sound you made for him. You loved that he was so in control of you even in the way he kissed you, he was in control of everything. You gripped at his hair to pull him closer, wanting more. He moans in response, enjoying your grip in his hair. But he doesn't let you take control, no, he's the one in charge here, and he makes sure you know it. Sang-woo presses you against the table, his body pinning you in place as he continues his ministrations.

Sang-woo lifts his finger inside you and opens your thighs and starts licking your pussy with hunger and experience making you moan. He was good at this, he knew what he was doing. And he knew how much you loved it. You loved how dominant and controlled he was, how he made sure you took everything he gave you. It was a rush.

Sang woo licked and sucked, his tongue moving in ways you couldn’t imagine. He wanted to make you feel this good, to make you a moaning mess. He was good at this, he knew what he was doing. And he knew how much you loved it. You loved how dominant and controlled he was, how he made sure you took everything he gave you. It was a rush. Sang woo licked and sucked, his tongue moving in ways you couldn’t imagine. He wanted to make you feel this good, to make you a moaning mess.

You gripped the edges of the desk tightly, your knuckles turning white, as you arched your back in ecstasy. It was too much, and yet you wanted more, you needed more. "Please," you moaned, "don't stop."He smirked against you at your words, he knew he was doing a good job. He wanted to hear you beg more, he wanted you to completely lose it. He intensified his efforts, wanting you to reach that peak.

“Does my pet like it when I devour her tight pussy?” Sang woo purrs as he licks and sucks your pussy hungrily. Your whole body tenses at his words, and you let out a moan that bordered on a scream. It was too much. The way he was talking, the way he was touching you, it was driving you crazy. "Oh god yes" you moan out, completely losing control of yourself. "Please don't stop".

He had you right where he wanted you, completely at his mercy. He loved having this power over you, knowing that he could bring you to the edge and back. He continued his ministrations, wanting to make sure you were completely satisfied. You was a mess, your body trembling and shaking from his touches. You were in complete ecstasy and he was the one responsible for it.

He makes circles with his tongue and hits your g-spot, teasing and sucking it. You can barely form words, it was just a series of moans and gasps, your mind completely clouded with pleasure. He knew exactly where to touch and when, how to make you feel this good. You couldn't help it, you couldn't think of anything else besides the pleasure he was giving you. Your body was shaking, and you gripped the edges of the desk tightly, trying to hold on to something, anything, as he took you to the edge. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the climax, and you weren't sure if you could handle it.

You could hear him chuckling softly between kisses, loving how he was making you feel. He was enjoying this, enjoying the control he had over you. He continued his ministrations, more aggressively this time, needing to hear your sounds. He wanted to know how far he could push you, how much he could drive you wild.

"That's it," he growls, "let go for me, pet. Show me how much you need me." You moan and come as you closed your eyes in pleasure. “So good” you murmur between moans. He smiles at your words, pleased with himself knowing he was the one who made you feel this way. He slowly moves up again, trailing kiss across your body till he reaches your face. "So beautiful" he murmurs, looking at you with intense eyes, "all mine."

“This is a little reward for being so obedient and studious” Sang woo purrs at you and then flips you over placing you on your stomach on the desk bending your ass. You feel a mix of excitement and anticipation as he positions you on your stomach. He’s in control, and you love it. You feel him running his hand up your inner thigh, his touch possessive and dominant.

Sang woo spits his saliva on your asshole then sticks a finger in and teases it making you scream. He smiled and raised his finger unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers and with one push he entered you making you both moan.

You're completely at his mercy, with no control or power. It's a new feeling, one you're not used to, but in this moment you trust him. You trust him not to hurt you, to take care of you.

Sang woo pushes himself towards you fucking you hard on his desk grunting. He's rough with you, but you don't mind. You want him, need him. He takes you with a possessiveness that makes you shiver.It's so different, so intense, compared to when you're in his bed. He's not gentle, he's not slow.

You moan feeling him grab some of your hair pulling you closer to make you feel more. "You like getting fucked by your teacher, huh?" he murmurs in your ear grunting as he playfully nibbled on your earlobe.

You let out a soft moan, your mind clouded with pleasure. "Yes," you manage to gasp out, the words leaving your mouth before you can even think. "I like it, professor..." He smiles and smacks your butt. "Oh, don't call me professor pet, call me what you call me at home while I fuck you" Sang-Woo whispers increasing his thrusts.

You moan loudly and try to form words. "Daddy" you finally manage to gasp, your cheeks burning with embarrassment but also excitement. "Please, Daddy..." Sang-woo grunts at the sound of that, the word sending a chill down his spine. He loves it, he loves the way you call him that. "Again," he orders, his voice thick with want. You moan and repeat the word, "Daddy." It feels so wrong but so right. He's in control, and he's making you feel amazing.

He loves how vulnerable you are like this, how you willingly give yourself to him. He leans forward, his lips against your ear as he speaks, his voice low and commanding. "That's it," he murmurs, "who do you belong to?" you whimper, your mind completely clouded with pleasure. "You, Daddy." you answer back breathlessly. "I belong to you."

He groans at your response, your words fueling his desire even more. "Good girl," he praises you, his voice thick with satisfaction, "now tell me, who is the only one who gets to see you like this?" you whimper, your mind completely clouded with pleasure. "You, Daddy,” you repeat, “only you.” He loves hearing you say that, knowing that you're his, that no one else gets to have you this way. He leans in again, his voice low and possessive. "Damn right."

You scream in pleasure feeling his thrusts get stronger, you moan coming on him and Sang woo grunts feeling your pussy squeezing his cock cumming inside you."That's right babygirl, take all my cum" Sang woo murmurs as he nibbled you the neck. His words have a strange effect on your brain, and you find yourself craving him more than ever. You want him to keep talking, to keep doing what he's doing. It's almost too much, the way he has control over your body and mind.

His lips on your neck send electricity through you, and you cling to him tight, as if he was the only thing keeping you grounded. You want more, always more. He chuckles softly at your clinging, knowing he has you completely under his control. "Such a needy little thing," he murmurs, "but it's okay, you're mine to take care of." you whimper at his words, the idea of being his, of being taken care of by him, is both maddening and comforting. It's a feeling you didn't think you'd ever experience with anyone, but here you are, completely submitting to him.

Sang-woo smiles and pulls out of you making you whimper. He lifts up his boxers and underwear and then turns you around to help you get dressed. “When you come home later you will have more, now you have to go to class” you say softly as he kisses your neck.

You can't help but feel a pang of disappointment, wanting more of what he just gave you. but you know he's right, and you have to go to class. you turn around and kiss him back, your lips lingering on his for a moment before pulling away. "I'll be counting the minutes," you whisper, your words conveying more than just a simple goodbye. He chuckles softly, his fingers trailing down your arm. "I'll be counting too, be a good girl in class, okay?" he says, his voice taking on a commanding tone, a playful smirk on his face.

You nod, feeling a shiver run down your spine at the tone of voice. You know he'll be watching, waiting for you to come home. "I'll be good, I promise." you reply, your voice soft and obedient.

With that, he releases you, and you reluctantly head out to class. The rest of the day seemed to drag on, your mind excited with thoughts of him, of what he'll do to you later.

[bedlam-barbie]

Crawling back to you

Or Attention part 2

Part 1

Pairing: In Ho x recruiter!reader ; slight salesman x recruiter!reader for the plot

Warnings: hurt no comfort,some suggestive language, reader has BPD, mentions of mental illness

Summary: 3 months after that faithful night in the club, they meet again, only this time, the Frontman was not going to let her go so easily. 

Word count: 4.2k

Author’s note: I am so beyond grateful for all your comments and likes! I was truly not expecting for you to like my work. I was half expecting it to flop lol. Anyway, I am unsure where to go with this story if I should leave it as a two part or write more. So please tell me if you have any ideas or suggestions regarding the direction it should go in. In other news, it kind of got me excited to write for the Salesman as well. So please let me know if you are interested in a Salesman centric one shot. The Salesman’s name will be Gong Yoo as I am not creative enough.

The room was immaculate, every detail meticulously curated, as though plucked straight from the pages of an opulent design catalogue. Rich, dark drapes cascaded elegantly over the towering windows, leaving just enough of an opening to let the faint shimmer of stars peek through, casting a delicate glow into the space. Furniture in nude fainted colors. The air carried a quiet sophistication, but it felt almost surreal. If she didn’t know any better, she might have believed she’d just had sex in a high-end furniture showroom.

She quietly put her bra and underwear on, starting her search for the rest of the clothes throughout the apartment. The man she had just slept with was watching her every move from the top of the king size bed, an amused smirk on his lips.

“You know most women would jump at the opportunity to spend the night with me”

“Please, you already know I am not most women” she replied rolling her eyes. “Have you seen my shirt?”

“And what do I get if I help you?” he asked coily, slowly moving towards the woman like a predator watching its prey.

Her face turned to meet his, his eyes taunting her looking for a reaction. She tilted her head and gave him an innocent look. One of her hands sneaked around his neck, her fingers playing with his dark locks.

“Nothing” she said simply and then yanked him by his hair downwards. “We have an agreement, Gong Yoo, and I don’t very much enjoy when my toys overstay their welcome.”

“Tsk, and here I thought we were friends” the man replied amused, a sharp knife appearing suddenly, its blade now resting just under the woman’s chin.

Her soft giggle filled the room at the sight of the blade. This was exactly why he was her perfect match in her nocturnal activities. She did consider the Salesman, a friend of sorts. Well, as good of a friend a psychopath can be. Her head moved slightly, enough for the knife to press between her lips. Her tongue danced around the silver metal.

“And I thought you knew who you were sleeping with” she said casually. “Now, I do need to leave, we have an early flight tomorrow morning.”

She let go of his hair and took the sharp object out of her mouth. His body was still pressed to hers, wearing nothing and God he did look good. But somewhere in the back of her mind, was a familiar older face, chiseled to perfection, dark orbs full of secrets that could stare into her soul who knew her inside and out. She quickly dismissed the thought, focusing on the scene in front of her instead.

“How could I forget? It’s not everyday that the games celebrate 30 years. How would you like to be my date?”

She was not easily surprised by the man. She had come to know him almost better than herself in the last 3 years. And much more in the last three months. It all started once the games of 2020 ended and they went out for their yearly blackjack event. The night began as a way to hurt their boss, but the more days had passed she realized she liked the Salesman’s company. Not in a romantic sense, but definitely sexually. It was a welcome distraction from work stress and more importantly. From him.

It was almost unbelievable how she let a man toy with her emotions again. A part of her wanted to yell that she was over the man behind the black mask, that his rejection did not sting at all, that she simply went home with the Salesman that night because she wanted to. Not out of vengeance. Gong Yoo had become in a weird way her safe space. While the man was deeply disturbed, she saw him as predictable. When the words regarding the gala left his mouth, she was speechless. He could read the confusion of her face and smirked.

“Well, darling, we both know why we started our little randez-vous. The Frontman will be there, no doubt with a date, so I believe it would be in our best interest to show up together.”

“Interesting, and what is in it for you?”

“Oh, I am sure you can find a way to thank me that night” his eyes were dark and intense, watching her every move.

“God you truly are a narcissistic psychopath, huh?” she asked giggling like a schoolgirl.

“And you are such a borderline cliché, my dear” his smirked grew. “Do we have a deal?”

“Absolutely.”

There was an undeniable comfort in the rhythm they had fallen into. Their days followed a familiar pattern: each would go about their routine, which, now that the games were over, mostly revolved around endless paperwork and researching potential recruits for the next year. The office was stark and quiet, tucked away in the bustling heart of Seoul. Some days, the real fun began after hours. They’d invent new ways to compete, often over the most ridiculous games, challenges that almost always escalated until one—or both—ended up naked in her apartment or his. The routine was theirs, equal parts playful and intimate, a strange solace in a world that had once been chaos.

The woman couldn’t lie, not even to herself—she wasn’t over the Frontman. In fact, she hated how deeply he still had a hold on her, so much so that even hearing his name felt like a fresh wound being reopened. Every thought of him sent a volatile mix of emotions crashing through her—jealousy, pain, anger. She presumed it was all of them but mostly she felt worthless, abandoned. The demons in her mind weren’t new; they had taken root long ago, feeding on every rejection, every unanswered plea. And every time she recalled that morning, it brought her back to feeling like a forgotten child, desperate for even the faintest trace of love. But she wasn’t that child anymore. She had stopped begging a long time ago.

So his invitation, although unexpected, felt like the right call. Although not wanting to admit it even to herself, it gave a strange sense of comfort that Gong Yoo would be there by her side and she did not have to face their boss alone.

As they stepped into the dimly lit ballroom, her eyes instinctively scanned the space, searching for the black mask—and, more importantly, the man behind it. It was clear he played a significant role in the event’s orchestration. The room demanded respect. Every detail, from the grand chandeliers casting a warm, subdued glow to the meticulously placed furnishings, exuded deliberate perfection. The air was crisp, almost unwelcoming, with stone statues lining the room, their lifeless eyes seeming to watch her every move with an air of expectation.

A symphony of classical music filled the space, the notes rising delicately from a live band tucked into a corner near the expansive dance floor. The atmosphere reeked of opulence and elegance, yet an undeniable chill lingered, making the grandeur feel eerily detached. Conversations hummed softly, muffled by the anonymity of the masks each attendee wore. The VIPs, ever distinct, were adorned in elaborate gold masks, while the guards stood out with their pink ones. Management’s masks, jet black and severe, carried an air of authority, while hers—and those of the other recruiters—were a deep burgundy, striking but unmistakably subordinate.

She opted for a long gold dress. Her gown was a statement in itself, perfectly at home in the opulence of the ballroom. The fabric shimmered like molten gold under the dim light, every movement catching the soft glow of the chandeliers above. The structured corset-like bodice hugged her figure, cinching her waist and giving her the regal posture of someone who belonged in a room like this. The neckline swept off her shoulders, its draped detailing softening the otherwise commanding presence of the gown, leaving her collarbones and shoulders beautifully exposed.

The skirt flowed effortlessly to the floor, its subtle draping at the hip enhancing her curves and giving her an almost statuesque elegance. It was the kind of dress that didn’t just demand attention—it commanded it. Her strappy gold metallic sandals clicked against the marbled floor. Gong Yoo wore a burgundy suit perfectly tailored to his measurements, looking almost like her perfect accessory. They walked arm in arm to the bar.

“You clean up nicely, darling” his voice purred in her ear. “All of this for little old me?” he added mockingly.

“You know it, baby,” she whispered playfully. From the outside, they looked like the perfect couple. Too bad her eyes were looking for a particular figure in the sea of bodies.

And then she saw him, At the grand balcony overlooking the masses. The Frontman was a picture of restrained elegance, dressed in a sharply tailored black suit that exuded authority and quiet sophistication. The fabric was rich and matte, absorbing the dim light that filtered through the grand balcony. Beneath the perfectly cut blazer, a matching black vest hugged his frame, its buttons glinting subtly, accentuated by a delicate chain that trailed from one pocket—a subtle yet striking detail that added a vintage edge to the modern ensemble. His tie, jet black like the rest of his attire, was perfectly knotted, a seamless continuation of his sleek, monochrome look.

Seated on the grand balcony, the ballroom’s muted hum stretched out before him, but his focus remained inward. A glass of deep amber liquor rested casually in his hand, the light from the room catching the liquid’s warmth. His  posture relaxed but deliberate, the weight of unspoken thoughts settling on his sharp features. The boutonniere pinned to his lapel—a delicate arrangement of soft blooms—offered the only contrast, a fleeting touch of life against the otherwise dark, striking uniform. His familiar mask perfectly put onto his face. For just a moment, she forgot how to breathe. It was as if he felt her eyes lingering on him and instinctively went to her.

He raised his glass in her direction and tilted his head slightly before resuming his chat with presumably Il-Nam. The minor interaction made her pulse raise, blood rushing to her ears. God, why was she acting like a stupid little girl with a crush? Was he right that morning? Was she that pathetic? She quickly downed a glass of champagne.

“Atta, girl” Gong Yoo said amused. “ Just remember this is not the place for table dancing”

“Hilarious, does the humor come with the personality disorder or did you pay extra for that?”  she asked sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Who said I am wearing any?” she replied, smirking slightly.

“There she is.” He laughed, a sparkle playing behind those eyes. “Maybe you should stop speaking like that or I might come to collect that favor you owe me.”

“That’s if you can catch me before I turn into a pumpkin, Mr. Salesman. Now come on, I would like a dance” she replied innocently.

“Your wish is my command, darling”

As they weaved their way through the sea of elegantly masked couples toward the center of the dance floor, her gaze instinctively flicked to where she had last seen In Ho. But he was gone. Still, she could feel him—his presence lingering like a shadow, his eyes tracking her every move from some unseen vantage point. It sent a chill down her spine, but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. Not tonight.

The quartet began a new melody, its hauntingly beautiful notes echoing through the grand ballroom. Taking their positions, she and the Salesman fell seamlessly into the rhythm, their movements effortlessly synchronized. His precision was remarkable, each turn, step, and sway executed with an almost mechanical flawlessness that both impressed and unsettled her. He led with quiet confidence, his hand firm yet gentle on her waist, guiding her through the intricate dance as though they’d rehearsed it a hundred times.

Her gown shimmered with every twist and spin, catching the light as their bodies moved in perfect harmony. For a moment, the rest of the room seemed to melt away, the opulent surroundings fading into the background. Yet, even as she danced, the weight of unseen eyes bore down on her, a reminder that the game they were all playing was far from over.

As Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons no 8 : Winter began to play, a chill swept through her, and with a sudden turn, she felt a cold hand grip her arm, pulling her toward him. Her breath caught in her throat. No—it wasn’t just any man. It was In-Ho. Her In-Ho. God, how she wanted to slap herself for thinking of him like that. With flawless precision, he guided her every step away from the eyes of Gong Yoo.

“In-Ho,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Hello, little dove,” he replied, his tone heavy with menace. “Did you enjoy playing house with Gong Yoo?” His words dripped with sarcasm.

She could feel herself getting angry again. How dare he speak to her this way after he was the one who pushed him towards the other man, himself?

“Funny. Almost as funny as your face that night in the club.” She replied coolly, maintaining his gaze. Although she could not see his face, she felt his body tense up , his grip on her waist hardening as well.

“Are you in love with him?” he asked directly.

“What is between me and Gong Yoo is none of your goddamn business. You are the one who threw me out like a rag doll you were done playing, or don’t you remember that? And now you are doing what? Ambushing me?”

Her words cut through the air like a knife, a sarcastic smile plastered on her face trying not to raise her voice. Although she did love indulging in creating chaos, she believed there was a time and a place. Surrounded by her colleagues and all the potential donors for the games? Not a bright idea. There was a certain way she enjoyed chaos, calculated, ruthless, like a contained flame. Moreover, the woman was very much aware that tonight In Ho was to be selected as the new Host by Il-Nam. As much as she hated his guts, she would put on a show, a pleasant smile and clap for the man. That being said, it was taking everything in her power not to yell and hit him.

“I knew you were not going to pick up my calls so instead I opted for a more discreet way. I wanted to talk to you about what happened.”

“What is there to talk about? We fucked, I thought you loved me since that’s what you claimed and then you threw me out. I was being a stupid pathetic girl. There is no big mystery to elucidate.”

Even speaking of what had happened, made her feel mortified. How mortifying it all sounded on her lips. Her eyes were searching the crowd for her date, hoping he would swoop in and save her, but he was nowhere to be seen. Serves her right for believing that he was actually a friend.

“If you are looking for Gong Yoo, Il-Nam wanted to speak to him.” The Frontman spoke as if reading her mind. “Your sociopath in shining armor has more important matters to attend to” he added.

Although she could not see her face, she felt a flicker of jealousy in his words. The mask he wore was impenetrable, but something in his voice betrayed him. A part of her wanted to kiss his worries away to tell him how everything between her and the Salesman was nothing but a physical affair. She would have taken him into her arms, taken his mask off and caressed his handsome face. Snap out of it, you are truly pathetic.

“As much as I loved this dance of ours, Sir, I fear, I need to go and powder my nose, otherwise I might have to shoot my brains out” she said, a fake smile playing on her perfect lips.

In-Ho sighed, but he released her as the final notes of the song drifted into silence. She bowed respectfully, her movements precise, and he tilted his head slightly in her direction—an almost imperceptible acknowledgment. For a moment, she stood still, her gaze lingering on him. But then, with a practiced smile, she turned and made her way toward the restrooms, weaving through the crowd.

Her body shook involuntarily, the emotions bubbling up inside her like a storm. A rush of anger, bitter and raw, mixed with an ache deep in her chest. It felt like her heartstrings were being pulled and twisted, as if every step forward was one taken away from the person she used to be. She clenched her fists, her perfectly manicured blood red nails digging into her skin, the sharp pressure enough to draw blood from the palms. The sting spread through her hands, but she didn’t flinch. She couldn’t afford to. It was the only way she knew how to keep the chaos at bay—how to stop herself from spiraling into a panic attack, or worse, breaking down in front of everyone.

Her method wasn’t graceful, but it was hers. Unrefined, perhaps, but effective. It anchored her, forcing her to stay in the moment, to keep the lid on the storm inside.

Once inside the restroom, she leaned against the sink, her fingers trembling as she fumbled for the powder in her clutch. The mirror in front of her reflected a woman she barely recognized: the smile from moments ago still lingering in her eyes, but beneath it, there was something fractured. Something torn. She closed her eyes for a brief second, taking in a steadying breath, and then began to pat her face gently, as if each motion could somehow smooth out the tension knotting inside her.

Her hands moved automatically, as they always did when she needed to hide what was truly going on. She applied the powder with care, trying to ignore the way her heart was racing, the way her mind threatened to break free from its restraints. Each tap of the puff against her skin was a moment of false peace—a temporary illusion of control. She hated it, but at least it worked.

With one final sweep of her hand, she put the powder away and adjusted her hair in the mirror. She could hear the music still playing softly in the background, but all she could focus on now was the quiet rage that swirled within her. She wasn’t ready to face him again, not yet, but she would. She always did.

Taking one last breath, she straightened herself up and walked back into the crowd. No one would see the cracks. She made her way outside in the gardens. A beautiful labyrinth laid before her eyes, flower bushes in her sight. Her hands opened her clutch again and pulled out her case of cigarettes, carefully taking one out and lighting it. As she took the first drag, she felt her heartbeat slowing down, closing her eyes. His scent lingered in her nostrils. Musky and seductive mixed with his body odor. The same scent she spent hours scrubbing off her skin in the hot shower after the night they spent together.

“Can I have one of those?” his voice rang behind her.

“What? Are you stalking me now?” she asked harshly without moving an inch.

“No, the atmosphere was stuffy and my social battery in speaking to the VIPs was slowly drained”

He sounded sincere, she thought, though she didn’t give him the satisfaction of another glance. Without a word, she reached into her bag and handed him one of her Marlboros. In-Ho removed his mask, setting it down gently on the marble fence. The action was deliberate, almost ceremonial, as if the mask itself deserved reverence.

They stood there in an uneasy silence, the kind that hung thick in the air, neither of them willing to break it. The Frontman searched for her eyes, but she refused to meet his gaze, doing everything in her power to avoid it. Instead, she focused on the cigarette between her fingers, drawing in a steady breath of smoke, feeling the burn in her lungs.

She took a sip from the glass of champagne she had grabbed on her way outside, its coldness a fleeting distraction from the heat building inside her. Above them, the stars twinkled, casting a soft glow across the garden, and the faint hum of music drifted from inside the building. If it weren’t for the tension hanging between them, the scene would have almost been romantic. The flicker of stars in the sky, the music, the champagne—everything about the moment was meant for ease, for connection. But there was no peace here, not with him, not with the weight of the situation pressing down on her.

She clenched her jaw and took another drag from her cigarette, determined not to let her mind wander too far.

“You look breath-taking,” he admitted, breaking the silence.

“Thank you” she replied coldly, but his compliment awakened something inside her. Warmth pulled through her body.

“You know, gold was my ex wife’s favourite colour” In Ho spoke, his eyes trailing in the distance.

The woman looked up to him and for the first time he saw how handsome his face was looking under the stars. Although a part of her wanted to quiet him, she decided against it, instead opting to understand where this little confession was going.

“She loved gold and white roses and those American pancakes that I know you also enjoy so much” he continued. Her eyes looked at him with caution, almost testing to see where the conversation was headed.

“What happened to her?” she asked softly.

“She died.” He admitted while taking another drag from the cigarette, looking down. “You know she loved Vivaldi’s seasons, particularly winter number 8. She always said it reminded her of me”

“Cold, sharp, determined. I can see that.” The woman replied quietly. “But also oh so captivating and tragically beautiful” she added, her words more of a whisper to herself.

His eyes lifted to meet hers, and for a fleeting moment, the tension dissolved, leaving only a fragile, unspoken intimacy between them. In-Ho hadn’t expected it, the sudden wave of tenderness that swept through him, but it was undeniable—and strangely welcome. Something ached deep within his chest, raw and unresolved. Perhaps it was the pain of speaking about his late wife after so many years, or maybe it was the way the moonlight kissed her skin, making her seem almost otherworldly, like she didn’t belong to this grim reality they both inhabited.

He wanted to pull her into his arms, to bury his face in the warmth of her shoulder and murmur apologies that had long been buried beneath layers of regret and silence. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was—for everything. But words stuck in his throat, too heavy to form.

Instead, he flicked his cigarette against the marble, extinguishing it with a sharp twist of his fingers. The ember died quickly, leaving only a faint wisp of smoke curling into the night air. His hands drifted back toward the cold, familiar weight of the mask. It was easier that way—to retreat behind the impassive facade, where vulnerability couldn’t touch him.

But for a single beat, he lingered—just long enough for the ache inside him to remind him of what could never be.

“Are you and him a couple?” In-Ho asked suddenly, his eyes going back to her, studying her face.

“No,” she laughed dryly. “I am not that stupid, I am very much aware of the kind of person Gong Yoo is. He is great in bed, but I am not naive enough to think I can save a psychopath”

“Then why are you here, with him?” Curiosity took the better of him before he could stop himself.

The woman hesitated, wondering if there was any point in answering. Silence might have been safer, but perhaps it was the champagne loosening her resolve—or the charged atmosphere pressing in around them. Something inside her shifted, compelling her to seek his gaze, searching for answers she wasn’t sure she wanted to find.

Was that jealousy lacing his voice? Pain? Or just cold, detached curiosity? After all, the Salesman had taken away his favorite toy. But was that all she had ever been to him—a possession, something to flaunt and control? The thought twisted uncomfortably in her chest.

She clenched her jaw, torn between bitterness and intrigue, unsure whether she wanted to push him for the truth or leave it buried where it belonged.

“It sounds insane, but I know what I get when I am with him. The lines are clear, I can see his intentions behind every gesture. I don’t have to worry myself to death about what he wants, I already know it. Sex, an accessory on his arm, a thrill. Someone that challenges him. He is easy”

“Unlike me”

“Unlike you” she confirmed while finishing her own cigarette.

[possessionguy]

Fatso's Ghostly Escapade!

It has been a while since Fatso the big blue ghost has enjoyed himself with a delicious hunky fleshie to inhabit, and he has been itching to get back out there and have the time of his afterlife.

Usually, Fatso possesses a fleshie alongside his two brothers, Stinky and Stretch, however, this time Fatso went on his own outing so he could have some more privacy in whatever activities he had planned.

Fatso decided to fly out to the busy street of Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles, a place that is packed with fleshies all eager to see the sights of the city of angels and stars.

Fatso flies over the herds of fleshies invisible to not cause a scene, the big guy is looking for a certain kind of fleshie, a fleshie who is beefy, hunky, and would make any man stare.”Let’s see what I get today. This time I do NOT want the fat guy!” Fatso intends to take over the sexiest fleshie he can find so that he can become the talk of the town.

Fatso keeps on his search when he sees something that almost makes him reveal himself out of excitement, Fatso sees his next victim. The man is tall, dark, and handsome with bulging muscles and a face that can get anything he wants.

Fatso’s eyes pop out of his head as he ogles the fleshie up and down.”Ooh! Look what we have here… the man of my dreams! Hubba Hubba!” The man walks across the street wearing all gray and black with a leather jacket as he seems to be in a rush. The fleshie jumps into a cab as Fatso decides to join in on the ride.

Fatso sits next to his soon-to-be body in the backseat of the car as his fleshie gets comfortable and opens up his phone. Fatso thinks to himself, “Now why were you in a rush, you sexy slab of meat…”

Fatso peaks at the man’s phone as he opens up an app that is quite familiar with Fatso, the yellow app known as Grindr. Fatso scoffs, “Hahaha now THIS is what I am talking about! Fleshie you are PERFECT! I cannot wait to get my hands on you big guy!” Fatso is getting hornier and hornier as he thinks about squeezing inside this hunk of a man.

Fatso wants to see what his fleshie has in mind as he sees the fleshie messaging someone. The messages read; “Hey r u on ur way Brandon?” “Yup just got in the cab, can't wait till you see you” “Can't wait I'm waiting in bed”.

Fatso sees these messages, “Ohh I see fleshie… ‘Brandon’ is on his way to a hookup, well I hope there is room for a THIRD! Bahahaha” Fatso laughs to himself as the car shakes slightly from his large vibrating form.

Brandon gets to his destination as Fatso trails him, Brandon enters the apartment complex and gets rings to get inside. As Brandon walks in he seems to have to use the restroom so he runs over to the bathroom to relieve himself before he makes his way to his hookup’s room. “It's time to get this show on the road fleshie! Haha!” Fatso knows it's time to take over his fleshie as he prepares to take possession of Brandon. 

Brandon gets into the bathroom and quickly takes a piss as he lets out a sigh and zips up, before he leaves the bathroom he makes sure he looks in the mirror. Brandon is checking himself out when he hears some noises coming from a closed stall. “What was that?” Brandon questions as he turns his head to a stall he knows was left open when he first walked in. The stall looks like it's shaking and rumbling causing Brandon to want to take a closer look. “Is someone there?” Brandon walks up to the stall and opens the door to see no one. “What the heck is going on?” All Brandon sees is an empty stall as he notices the toilet is vibrating, Brandon steps forward until he is standing above the toilet looking down into the bowl.

“Hey fleshie… turn around…”

Brandon whips his head up and quickly turns around with a confused look on his face as he sees a large pudgy ghost with piercing orange eyes looking directly at him almost completely blocking the stall door.

“WHAT THE FUCK?! What are you?!” Brandon shrieks

Fatso laughs and grins, “The name’s Fatso, and you caught my eye you sexy fleshie!” Brandon tries to run out of the stall but Fatso bounces Brandon back like a giant balloon which causes Brandon to stumble onto the toilet behind him.

“Oh Fleshie, why leave so soon, it's only the beginning of our fun escapade together, or should I say… MY fun escapade INSIDE you!” Fatso starts to move closer to Brandon.

Brandon looks up at Fatso while he scoots back as much as he can, “What do you want from me?! This can't be happening!” Brandon looks terrified as Fatso gets up close and personal with him, rubbing his ghostly belly against his knees as the chubby ghost gets eye-level with his prey. Fatso looks Brandon in the eyes, “Hehe Possession is 9/10s the law and you are ALL MINE!” Fatso charges back as Brandon goes wide-eyed. “NOW OPEN UP FOR FATSO!” Fatso flings forward towards Brandon as Fatso slams into Brandon’s crotch looking for his way in.

Brandon tries to get up but the immense force of Fatso keeps Brandon stuck on the toilet seat. Fatso phases through Brandon’s jeans and finds Brandon’s flaccid rod, “Ooooh! Why hello there big guy! Hehe, don't mind if I do!” Fatso begins to press against Brandon’s rod as his head slurps in. Brandon moans and chills from the sudden cold and rubbery feeling of Fatso entering into him. Brandon immediately freaks out and pulls down his pants to see Fatso slurping inside him, “AHHH GET OUT!” Fatso continues to laugh as he slowly sinks into Brandon’s rod which causes Brandon to go hard and feels Fatso enter into his stomach. 

Brandon watches in horror as Fatso’s bulbous stomach slams into him, Brandon begins to push against against Fatso with his hands, “Get off of me!” Fatso starts to come back out of Brandon as Fatso groans slowly, “Awww come on Fleshie, let me in, I promise I will take great care of you!”

Fatso pops out of Brandon’s crotch as Fatso has a scolding look on his face, “You think are can keep me out fleshie, I’ll show you what it means to be taken over!” Brandon quickly gets up and makes a run out of the bathroom as Fatso flies forward and bodyslams into Brandon’s back causing Brandon to hit his head against the door and fall backward on his back. Brandon is in a daze as he opens his eyes and sees Fatso above him.

Fatso grins, “Thanks for making this easier for me fleshie, now open wide 'cause I’M COMING THROUGH!!!” Fatso dives down into Brandon’s mouth and he slams all his ghostly weight onto Brandon as his head and arms immediately go down into Brandon’s throat, “Now this is what I am TALKING ABOUT! Hahaha!”

Brandon cannot speak a word as he feels Fatso wiggle down his throat and feels Fatso begin to once again fill up his stomach. Fatso continues to flow into Brandon as his belly wiggles and squeezes slowly getting more and more of his ectoplasm down into his victim’s muscular body.

“GET READY FOR FATSO! BAHAHAHA!” Fatso laughs as Brandon groans in discomfort as he feels more and more of Fatso squeeze and rub against his insides. Fatso continues to squeeze and wiggle for a while until what is left is Fatso’s tail, “There we GO!” Fatso’s tail slurps into Brandon’s mouth and wiggles down his through with a popping sound.

Brandon’s eyes go wide as he immediately gets up off the floor now feeling extremely heavy and full since he is now carrying all of Fatso inside him. Brandon groans, “Ughhh I feel weird, please get out…” Fatso giggles in response, “Sorry fleshie but I am already getting VERY comfortable in my new home! You won’t mind if I stay for a while right?”

Brandon wobbles as he stands up and feels Fatso wiggling and moving in his body, he suddenly hears Fatso moan as he feels a lurch in his stomach and his body begins to move on its own. “Time for Fatso to take the reigns fleshie!” Fatso blurts out as Brandon’s body flails around the bathroom while both Fatso and Brandon groan and moan.

Brandon flings to his left and hits his stomach against the sink, “HEYYY there's precious cargo in here!” Brandon continues to shake uncontrollably as he feels Fatso move and expand in his body, almost like he is being put on like a suit. Brandon feels Fatso’s head squeeze into his own as he sighs, “Please don’t do this…” Fatso exclaims, “Don’t worry fleshie, Fatso is going to take GREAT care of you! Now let me take the driver’s seat for a while.” Fatso moans and lurches over as Brandon is gone and fatso is in control now.

Fatso walks up to the mirror in his new body examining himself and his sexy muscles and chiseled face, “Wow… never been in a fleshie this sexy before! This is going to be an amazing night!” Fatso gets a notification from the phone in his pocket and it reads, “Hey man what is taking so long, I'm ready to be fucked!” Fatso gets excited, “Ooh this is going to be fun!” Fatso walks out of the bathroom ready for his escapades.

[lavenders388]

I am in need for more daeho fic, so I would love if you made another one, maybe during the mingle game and after that

~mingle game! headcanons~

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 kang dae ho x reader

requested 💌

a/n apologies for taking forever with requests!! i started school and I'm in the process of buying a new car! which sounds exciting but it literally SUCKS and takes forever! thank you for being patient <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

𓇼 when dae ho hears gi hun and jung bae talking about how mingle is played/what it entails he immediately grabs your hand. an unspoken vow to stay with you and protect you no matter what.

𓇼 he doesn't show it but like every game he's terrified about not only losing you but not being able to protect you and be with you if he himself loses the game.

𓇼 in the show he gets really quiet and kind of just goes along with what the group does (real asf for that) but with you he tries his best to reassure you that he'll do anything to protect you and he knows you'll both come out of it together<3 he stays a little quieter though, his outward confidence becoming more silently focused but not ever wavering.

𓇼 he also looks out for the rest of the group as well, trying to do whatever he can to ensure everyone's safety. he worries so much about losing all of the people who have been so welcoming to him as well as to you.

𓇼 during the game, when the group decides how to split up/how to get more people, he makes sure that the two of you are in the group that stays together and immediately finds a room. he knows that this will ensure not only your safety but also that the two of you will both be safe together:) he also appreciates that it ensures the safety of most of his group too!

𓇼 when young il predicts that the last round will be two players per room, his grip on your hand tightens. when two players is called out and the platform stops, without warning he picks you up off your feet and bolts to the nearest room.

𓇼 when the two of you are safe in the room together, he puts you down and pulls you into a hug. he knew that with the group and gi hun you all stood a fair chance, but everything he witnessed and the close calls, he is so grateful that you're both okay.

𓇼 on the walk back, hes still kind of quiet. the adrenaline beginning to fade and exhaustion creeping back in; as well as the fear of how everyone would vote. all he wants is to go home with you.

𓇼 when you return to your beds and await mealtime and then voting, he feels proud of himself for protecting you successfully and overjoyed that nearly everyone in the group made it out. he is so grateful that you're still here and vows to never stop protecting you.

𓇼 hes been forced to think a lot about the possibility of losing you during the games, with the possibility being so high and the amount of loss around him. he knows unfalteringly that he cannot go without you and that's only been proved by the looming possibility. he decides in that moment, sitting next to you in the room that was once full of beds- looking around at the newfound space representing all of the loss- that the second you two get out of this place he wants to marry you and ensure your safety for the rest of his life.

[solbaby7]

High For This

pairing: eris x reader

warnings: jealous!eris, swearing, another overindulgent ball hosted simply for conspiratorial purposes, sexual themes, wrote this with the implication of Beron being dead, abrupt ending bc if i didn’t stop there i prolly wouldn’t stop at all, not edited

summary: Eris is a jealous man and you’re determined to see exactly how hot his fire burns for you.

—

“Excuse me?”

Your eyes roll on their own accord, hands fluffing through fresh curls as dark mascara dries on thick lashes. A tinted gloss stains full lips and Eris hates the way his lungs greedily gulp in the sensual oud permeating the air.

Everything in here smells like you and he doesn’t resist the indulgence of looking around to take in the fluffy duvet sheets neatly strewn over the mattress and the cream throw pillows tucked near your headboard. The canopy drapes are tucked to each post, the middle dripping dreamily like clouds hovering in the sky.

You’re meticulous, he notes; every item you own continent in their convenient little homes. “I said,” The tone you hold makes his jaw clench, his body visibly perturbed by your nonchalance while he felt himself slipping deeper into your pull. You barely spare him a proper glance—too occupied in looking over yourself in the floor length mirror. “I have a date so you don’t have to wait for me. We’ll meet you there.”

“A date?” Eris repeats sharply, staring at you through the mirror.

“Is there a problem with that?” You know the answer before the question is even fully spoken, a smug little smirk ghosting in the corner of your lips as you sift through your jewelry box. Rings are slid onto your fingers, gold bands and pretty emerald cut jewels glittering in the faelight. “I specifically remember you saying that you didn’t need a plus one.”

“Because,” Each syllable is drawn out, his restraint slipping as you pushed his buttons with such expertise. “—I already had one.” You read between the lines, a brow raising as you settle in the knowledge that the High Lord had expected you to hang off his arm.

“I don’t recall you asking.”

“It was implied.”

Dark kohl lines your eyes and accentuates full lashes, a pretty blush placed on the high points of your cheeks and such beauty seems lethal when you stare through the mirror. “You’ve never had an issue articulating your wants before—if you desired it bad enough, of course.”

You leave room for a response, trying desperately to mask the flicker of hope beginning to drudge to life within the embers. Centuries of waiting for Beron to no longer be an issue, no longer looming over both of your shoulders and destroying every meaningful moment.

Things were supposed to be different when he was finally dead.

Easier.

Only, Eris had grown more guarded. Terrified that showing a hint of affection would backfire as it had so many times before. He takes his time, smoothening out his tone and compulsively straightening out the neatly folded handkerchief sticking elegantly from the breast pocket of his perfectly tailored suit. “This is not up for debate, bunny. Turn your little friend away and let’s go before we’re late.”

“No.” You shove past him, clutch tucked under your arm and high heels clicking furiously against the hardwood.

It stuns him for a beat of time but he recovers far quicker and Eris all but barks out your name as he exits your door, following a few paces behind with a snarl working its way up his throat. “Get back here!”

“I am not some object that you can just command when you please.” Elegant curls bounce angrily with your every step, jewelry chiming with each little bounce down the stairs. One hand grips at the banister for balance, the tight fit of your dress forcing you to move slower than you’d like. “You do not own me.”

"You're right, bunny. I don't own you but I am your High Lord and you will stop walking this instant."

The immediate fae-like stillness of your form has Eris’ heart thumping with excitement against his ribcage. A perfect mask is painted across your features when you slowly turn on the balls of your feet to face him but nothing could ever quench the fire that burns behind your retinas. “My Lord?”

A noise is hummed low in his throat—pleased or patronizing?—you weren’t sure but judging by that leisurely stride and the special time he takes in looking you over, it has to be a mix of both. “I like that tone much better.” Eris’ hands are warm when he brushes a lock of hair away from your face, fingertips grazing against your neck with such care that you have to suppress the shiver threatening to rake up your spine.

You refused to allow him the satisfaction of knowing how his touch affected you.

Not when he was acting like such an entitled toddler.

“Wonderful,” Venom burns under every word, even if it is wrapped in a sickeningly sweet tone. “I aim to please.”

A smile bleeds its way onto his face, the faelight casting shadows over the handsome contours of his features and frustration forces your fingers to fidget when the intoxicating oud of his cologne engulfs your senses. “I’m thrilled to hear that, bunny.” Eyes narrow up at Eris as you clock that tone of voice—that devilish look burning behind amber irises. “Let’s hope all that enthusiasm helps you survive the night.”

“Funny you should say that,” The way your hand elegantly rests in the crease of his extended arm feels utterly natural, no matter how much contempt is quivering behind the movement. “It’s not me who needs to worry about surviving the night.”

—

Playing the part of the demure, doting date is a million times more difficult than you make it look. Sweet smiles and the inviting shape of your figure brings in more attention than normal—or maybe it was because of who’d been permanently fused to your side since the second you’d arrived.

Eris had never been so on guard, amber irises raking over anyone who came within a five foot radius and most of your time is spent wading the rigid line of his shoulders. “Quit it,” You snap through your teeth, concealing the bite if your words with a bright grin. “You forced me to be here with you and now you’re scaring everyone off.”

“Forced you?” He doesn’t even sound offended—just smug as he motions to your hand curled comfortably around his bicep. “Is that the narrative you’re running with tonight, bunny? How unoriginal.” The body language portrays anything but ‘forced’ and once he’s pointed it out, you’re quick to pull away, snatching your hand back and grumbling profanities under your breath.

“What else would you call it?”

Eris feigns aloofness when responding, refusing to grant you the decency of his gaze and your spine goes ramrod straight when his words sink in. “I’d say it’s no different than when any of the other High Lords attend with their plus ones—though it seems theirs are more well behaved.”

“I’m not some hound who submits to your every command, Eris Vanserra.” Hurt lingers in the words you spit out just loud enough for him to hear. “What the other High Lords have are wives, partners—mates. They’re not cowards; wanting someone and stringing them along.” Tears well in your waterline, grip shaky around the flute of champagne until you abandon it altogether. “You’re wasting my time and I have little patience left to offer.”

You’re forced to walk away before the dam breaks, refusing to wear your heart on your sleeve for it never worked well before. Makes you too vulnerable; too tethered to a male too afraid to return the sentiment.

Balcony doors creak under your touch, opening just enough for you to slip through and close it behind you. For once, you’re grateful for the solitude. Basking in the cool breeze and the comforting smell of fresh flora, you let your eyes slip closed, a single tear falling free and your back bows as you sag against iron railings.

Just a single moment of weakness.

And it’s completely shattered by another presence.

“Want me to kill ‘em?”

You snap up like a spring, neck nearly snapping with the force it takes to turn so quickly. Palms wipe at your cheeks, straightening out the fabrics of your dress. “Sorry,” You quickly flush the moment realization sinks in, eyes taking in the towering Illyrian standing just a few feet away. His hair held in a neat bun at the nape of his neck, burly form slouched in a lounge chair, wings stretched high behind him. “I thought I was alone out here.”

“Looking how you do, I doubt you’re ever really alone.”

You scoff, this hateful, bark of a noise that refuses to be tampered down or subdued. “Not everyone shares your sentiment.”

“Date ditch you?”

“A girl could only dream. No, my ‘date’ is spending his time being a grade A douchebag—needed fresh air before I did something stupid.”

He hums in acknowledgment, a chilled glass of amber liquor dripping condensation down the thick stretch of his forearm. His head cocks to the side when he looks you up and down, making note of that forlorn expression casting shadows across pretty features. “Want to make him jealous?”

You should be ashamed for how abruptly the notion piques your interest. For how quickly satisfaction settles within your bloodstream at the thought of Eris watching you waltz around with this brick wall of a male and his effortless presence. “What’s in it for you?”

“Pretty thing on my arm is prize enough, even if it is just for show.”

There’s a pause where the Illyrian can literally see the gears turning in your head. Outweighing the risks. Mulling over potential consequences.

He can tangibly grasp the exact moment you shove all that aside—too scorned to give a shit about retribution. Too much time had gone into getting ready to waste it all on a male too prideful to cherish the gift wrapped before him. You head nods with finality, one hand outstretched before him. “It’s a deal.”

His hand is warm against your own, significantly larger and riddled with callouses. Tattoos the shade of obsidian is etched into tawny skin, arms rippling with muscles that bulge against the tight fit of formal leather attire. “I’m Cassian.”

“I know who you are.” Hesitation lingers in the set of your shoulders, spine not fully lax though Cassian doubts that’s fully possible with the skyscraper for heels adorning your feet. “Do you know who I am?”

His grin only grows when he stands at full attention, so tall your neck cranes just to meet his eye. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.” Ice clinks against his glass as he offers it to you, lifting the rim to your lips and muttering a soft praise when you drink obediently. “There’s a girl. Drink up, you’ll need the liquid courage.”

Liquid courage. Makes sense when it burns on the way down, easing frazzled nerves and a short temper until your arm slips in the crease of Cass’ elbow like it was a regular occurrence.

He’s confident. Borderline cocky with the way he urges you closer, hips bumping into one another with each step. The closeness does the trick though, a smoldering set of sandy eyes fall on you the moment you’re thrusted back into the fray. “Chin up,” Cassian murmurs softly, lips barely even moving over the words.

You’re led to the dance floor, situated smack dab in the middle. It’s a spectacle but something tells you that’s the whole point when Cassian circles a hand around your waist. The other reaches for your free hand, easing your fingers against his own until you’re palm to palm. “Do you even know how to dance? I don’t recall that being apart of Illyrian curriculum.”

It’s a harmless tease—the jab earning you a laugh so organic that it shows both rows of shiny teeth and a pantydropping set of dimples in his cheeks. “Pretty and funny. You really should consider not being so charming, I have an awful habit of hoarding treasures like you.”

Your head dips, a blush growing along the apples of your cheeks that only grows when Cassian is emboldened, ushering you in closer until you run the risk of stepping all over his toes. If he cares, you can’t tell, too washed up in the feeling of being shown off—proudly at that. “I appreciate you doing this for me. Even if it doesn’t work.”

“Trust me,” Cassian drawls, his gaze far off as he focuses on something behind you. “It’s working.”

He doesn’t elaborate, though he doesn’t really have to when you pick up on a familiar step pattern. Nose catching the earthy scent of spicy cinnamon and nutmeg. Of pine trees and bonfire smoke. “Bunny,” Eris fixates on the Illyrian’s hold on you, the corded muscle in his jaw jumping with the effort it takes to restrain himself from burning Cassian’s hands to a crisp. “Mind if I cut in?”

“This dance is nearly done.”

“And you’ll be finishing it with me.” It’s sick how desire pools in your belly at the possessive tone. How pleased you feel with yourself when Eris all but pries you away from Cass and into his own arms. You barely have enough time to say thank you to the Night Courts General before the eldest Vanserra has whisked you far, far away from those giant wings and the enigmatic wearer of them. “Where’d you run off too? I was worried.”

“Worried about what? That someone else was cherishing what you neglect?” You hum to yourself at the raw guilt that screws up the handsome pout of his mouth. “What’s that saying? One males trash…”

“You aren’t trash. You know I don’t think of you as trash.”

“No, you just treat me like it.” The chattering of guests drowns out your words from prying ears. “Hiding me at the bottom of the bin like you’re ashamed of me or something.”

You’re working yourself up again. Overthinking. Self-depreciating. Resenting. Digging a hole with no means of pulling yourself out but Eris halts that train of thinking with a hand to your jaw. The grip is gentle but firm, guiding you to look him in the eye; insisting you see the seriousness that swirls in the copper tones of his iris. “You are everything to me,” His confession stops you in your tracks. Steals your breath away at you hang onto every constant and vowel like a lifeline. “I wake up everyday just so I can see your face and I lay my head down every night praying that it’s filled with dreams of you—of us. Everything I do, anything I’ve ever done is to ensure your happiness. Your safety.”

“Eris..”

“No, listen to me.” Both hands cup your cheeks, all space eaten up until each breath he exhales in the air you inhale. Two halves of a whole slowly sliding into place. The final pieces of a puzzle connecting as one to fulfill the bigger picture. “You are mine.” Thumbs brush over the curve of your cheekbones, tracing at the slope of your nose and memorizing the shine of your lips. “My woman,” Tenderness leaks from every syllable, sincerity bleeding from every pore until you’re unable to fight back the rushing currents of your tears. “My love, my mate and while I can never promise to be a perfect male, I can vow that I am thoroughly vested in all things categorized as your best interest.”

“If I’d have known dancing with another male was all it took for such a confession, I’d have done so long ago.”A breathless laugh emits, one that softens the stern line of his brow and eases the fear his father engraved in his soul.

Noses brush, lashes kissing until your lips meet his own and all of your doubt is washed away. “I love you.”

“All I’ll ever love is you.”

[windixie]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ BESITOS ୧˚ | gojo x emo! reader college au

in which gojo is totally obsessed with his cute emo girlfriend who is so excited on getting tickets to her favorite band. so excited his dick gets needy and you need to take care of it!

authors note : just wanted to say thank you all sm for 140 followers omg I was just at 30 not long ago and I’m so happy to know that people actually enjoy my fics hello? anyways love u all sm !

wc : 1.0k

ⓘ warning this fic will have : size! kink, jealousy, h! job, satoru being a perv, lmk if I miss any !

you’ve been a big fan of ptv for years. your whole room had posters of their albums, you own 27 shirts plus 5 signed by the vic fuentes himself and not to mention the guitar you won at one of their concerts when you were in middle school. you thought they stopped doing shows altogether after coming out that they will no longer be putting out new music so it was a surprise to see that they will be performing one last time.

in your state. not too far from your college just a 2 hour drive you could definitely afford. your fingers immediately pressed the ‘pay for ticket’. which you bought with your boyfriends money because he absolutely refused to let you buy things with your own.

“seat 17B..” you mumbled to yourself excitedly. you were so deep into your excitement you failed to notice your white haired boyfriend walking up to you. “baby”

your head shot up. “toru!” you smiled up brightly at him. his eyes narrowed at your smile slightly confused at what you were previously smiling at. “what’re you all giggly at angel?” he leaned in closer to you to see what you were staring at. “y/n who are you texting?” he said his face turned serious.

“s’ nobody” you simply answered. you weren’t lying but satoru didn’t know that. you could be texting some other boy and he wouldn’t even know! “cmon spill it.” he said straightening out. you showed him your phone which showed the receipt to your awaiting concert.

he let out a sigh of relief. “ah it’s that band you like, should’ve just told me that from the start.” his smile soon returned as he sat down on the bed with you making your way over to his thigh sitting on it. “am so happy, it’s their last show”

satorus hand met your waist holding them lovingly as your lips found his. he hummed before pulling away. “so you’re gonna dress in your casual emo attire?” he asked in which he received a nod from you which made him chuckle.

he pulled you closer a smirk making his way onto his lips. “can I expect to see you in a certain pair of see through thighs?” you hummed knowing how much he loved that combo you wore sometimes. see through black thighs with the cutest short shorts you got at a swamp meet for only 25$. that was a steal. you tugged the collar of his compression shirt. his biceps so big they were just begging to be released. “maybe” you answered.

he chuckled showing off those pearly whites you loved as he found your little motion adorable. satoru couldn’t help but flex a bit more. “should I be concerned about other guys checking you out at the concert?”

“no way, I’ll tell them about my amazing boyfriend and how cool and smart he is and how much I love him and his scary blue eyes” you giggled. “oh yeah baby?” his fingers slipped underneath your shirt meeting your bare back. his cold fingers tracing your sensitive skin. “what else are you gonna tell em”

“that you’ve got a big cock”

he immediately laughed out at your bluntness that sent chills down your spine. “you think it’s big angel? you sure?” his eyebrow rose up. “it barely fits in toru! and when it does it makes me struggle to walk for a full week!” you whined.

He raised an eyebrow at you, his ego inflating further after your words. Satoru grabbed your chin with one of his hands, turning your face upwards so you were looking at him. “Care to describe it, baby?”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “as if you aren’t the one with it, you see it every day you don’t need me describing it for you.”

his face leaned forward. “I know but I wanna hear what you think of it, please love?” you thought for a moment. “it’s pretty”

“what else?”

you looked down shyly. “I like the veins on it” Hearing your words made his chest feel a little tight as well as his pants.

“And what about the size, angel? You said it’s big yeah? ” He chuckled softly, his hot breath fanning against your neck again. you nodded before your eyes widened at the sight of his hand reaching into his sonic pj pants you got for him on your anniversary. he pulled out his hard leaking length. some of his juices already sinking down onto the pretty white hair that was surrounding his heavy balls.

“go on baby wrap your hand around it. wanna see how big it is compared to you”

you whined and obliged rubbing his tip teasingly before wrapping your hand around the base going up and down. you’ve always hated how ugly dicks we’re but seeing his pretty pink tip just made you wanna moan. you were also thankful he didn’t have foreskin

“yeah that’s rights baby. look at how small your hand is, guess you were right. it is too big for ya” he cood.

his dick twitched in your hand as he spat on it so you could use it as lube. “am close baby just keep doing what you’re doing” he grunted “talking a bout my dick like that huh.. yeah better tell those assholes how good I make you feel.. how I make you cum and cry when I stuff this big fuckin cock in your holes. fuckin shit baby.” he moaned as hot springs of cum shot out landing on both you and his matching sonic shirt that goes along with his pants.

he sighed kissing you softly. you cleaned up before cuddling up next to him. “I think you should tell them that yourself, I also got you a ticket.”

you were soon to be surprised to see your boyfriend who you originally thought hated your music taste from how much he complained about it, know every single lyrics to every song played at the concert.

[zairaalbereo]

THEY ARE BACK!!

July 2nd summer is coming. And so is The Old Guard 2.

It’s been so long. I wondered if I could even get excited about it. But one look and I am so excited!! So excited, in fact, I couldn’t help drawing extremely sloppy art. 😅

Anyway, YAY!!! 🎉✨🎉✨🎉✨