#but he is really fussy with eating and it's the only thing i get him to eat regularly

[barksbog]

honestly i miss posting more about my reptiles/amphibians/bugs but I can't deal with people asking for care advice all the time ):

[ghostwhippet]

From Scratch

Nutrition Info: Johnny/Reader; 4k; a meetcute launched by Reader's inability to cook reasonable portions, and Johnny's... well, just Johnny

No matter how long you live alone, you can’t get the hang of cooking for one person. Even when you try to make a single-serving meal instead of batch cooking, somehow it balloons out of control. Wasting food makes you feel awful, but you can only freeze so much.

One evening, desperate and utterly fed up, you go kick gently at a neighbor’s door, both hands full, trying to mimic a knock with your shoe. Jason, you think his name was? Striking blue eyes, big frame, a cute cropped mohawk, amazing brogue, and he’s always been cordial when you’ve run into him around the building. Friendly, but not too friendly.

He’s understandably confused by your request at first, but seems happy enough for the food, and takes it around your repeated apologies–for bothering him, for existing, for anything you can find, really.

Unfortunately, not even forcing yourself to go and do all of that manages to pierce your shite sense of volume. Your trips to his door do get less awkward over time, though. And Johnny, his name is, always has sparklingly clean dishes and containers to return in exchange for the full ones. 

Eventually he just starts showing up at your place instead and eats with you at your bar counter. He didn’t really ask, and you definitely didn’t, but there he is all the same, and… if you're honest? He’s just so easy to be around, it quickly feels natural having him there. He puts you off your guard, puts you at ease and makes you smile, like those are somehow the most natural things in the world.

From that first night, Johnny has insisted on helping with dishes. Starting the second, he’s always got groceries with him. Even manages to talk you out of your discomfort over accepting them, so well that on his fourth night, you’ve got a small shopping list ready. He’s cheeky, you don’t think he’ll mind. And he is right, after all: you're probably feeding him at least three or four nights out of the week, what with all the leftovers.

You start eating better, and trying new things you'd always planned on “getting around to,” now that you've got a reason to cook beyond not starving. Everything comes out fine the first time you make it, when you’re closely following a recipe, and Johnny has no qualms about trying anything you put in front of him. You’ve never met someone so genuinely un-fussy when it comes to food.

A couple months after he’s started eating at your place, he disappears for a while. “Work trip,” is all he'll say, and you don’t pry, even though you really want to. 

Once he’s back, he starts coming over weekend afternoons sometimes. You do brunch with beer or fancy drinks in champagne flutes, or occasional breakfast on the roof before other people are awake, him in a big hoodie or jumper, and you wearing a thick blanket like it's trying to digest you, looking like a half-drowned cat because no living being is meant to be awake at such an hour. 

You cut fruit into mangled flowers and vague geometric shapes for the brunches, usually while just spending time with him. He tries his hand at it once, with you pulling up videos, laughing the whole time you’re explaining how it’s supposed to work, and the utter bastard is better at it on his first go than you were after weeks. His hands are confoundingly steady, and his hand-eye coordination borders on the unnatural.

That’s probably the official start of his sous chef arc. And that’s what has him spending a night judging your knives and marveling, repeatedly and loudly, that you still have all your fingers.

You might put a piece of eggshell into his omelet that night in retaliation, and he might not even have the decency to react to it.

“...Johnny I can hear it crunching, oh my God would you spit it out!” You manage between laughter that’s got your face hurting.

That happens a lot around him. Smiling so much it hurts.

“Nah, i’s nice texture,” he says around the mouthful, then starts enunciating the longer words. “Very advanced technique. Shows a great awareness of the culinary experience–”

“You’re being such a prat. Why are you being such a prat!”

He talks over you as if he can’t hear you, as if he’s doing some mockingly posh review. “And honestly, the crunching–” he pauses and chomps down on the shell for effect, and how is it still intact, “it really engages the senses. Keeps me immersed in my dining experience.”

You regret loaning him your cooking books. Never again.

After that, though, he steals your knives, takes them home, and they come back so sharp you can cut windowpane slices of potato. He offers to teach you how to do it yourself–after stipulating with heart-clenching thoroughness that he’s happy to come over and do it for you any time.

Johnny gets weirdly into shopping farmer’s markets, walking around discovering new produce and varieties of things he’s never seen before. “Fuck would I know tomatoes come in this color? Look at this thing, it’s like a feckin’... it’s a wee lumpy sunset, isn’t it? And this! Like someone took the heart of a dragon,” his voice had gone terribly dramatic, and you definitely hadn’t covered your face, “and stuck it on a bush somewhere.”

“Baby how are you so huge, but so adorable?” You don't know when the pet names started, but you know he started them; sometimes it feels like you two grew up together. 

You like the challenge of the new and unexpected ingredients that come from his trips, and by this point, he’s keeping your kitchen pretty stocked with whatever oddball pantry items you ask for, so you're set up to deal with almost anything. But on rare occasions he’ll call you with a question, too. You’ve had each other’s numbers for a while, it just made coordinating easier. 

“Oi can you make sommat with uh… fiddlehead ferns?”

You always can, whatever he asks about. It just takes a quick internet search to find out if you can tackle it that same night, or if it needs to wait for another day. Sometimes it ends up disastrous, but like a shot, Johnny has you laughing or throwing something at him (usually-but-not-always also while laughing) before guilt or shame can get a proper foothold.

There was a night when he was too excited about something to wait for you to answer the door when he knocked, and since then, he just sort of comes in on his own after he announces himself—at least when you know to expect him. That feels right, too, just like having him at your counter had.

You’re feeding the both of you almost every night of the week by now, even if you’re still not cooking often. You like being around him so much, you can’t imagine doing it less, not even when cooking is the last thing you want to be doing. It’s like there’s a bubbly little sun in your chest when he’s around.

Johnny makes you so happy, in fact, and you’re so afraid of losing your time with him, it’s nearly six months before the first time you have to tap out of a dinner, too knackered to make yourself even casually presentable, nevermind cook so much as instant noodles.

He reacts like it’s no problem at all, which of course he’d do, because he’s wonderful, but you don’t manage to keep your heart from dropping that he’s not at least a little sad. That he doesn’t, maybe, look forward to the nights like you do. You know your arrangement is practical, and he’s never been over unless there was food involved, but… well… seeing him seems to have become rather… vital to you.

Which means it’s better to put it away, anyhow, right?

So when, an hour after you’d texted him and basically all he’d said was No problem, thinking takeout, any votes?, he’s coming through your front door with delivery bags and talking a mile a minute like it’s just another night, you're left with your mouth open and your hand on the knob, because… because he's here.

You're not cooking, but he's still here.

You just stand there gobsmacked as he sits on the couch, nattering away, half the food out before he even realizes you’re still playing doorstop. He asks if you’re having the time of your life or if you’re going to come sit down, those horrible (wonderful) crinkles at the sides of his eyes, brows pulled up in the middle.

He looks confused when you say you want to freshen up, like he can’t see that your hair might’ve lost a row with a feral rodent, or that you’re wearing clothes that shouldn’t even be outside of a bin, nevermind on a person. He just tells you the food will get cold, and that it’ll be no good that way.

So you run your hands through your hair and sit, subdued and uncertain like you haven’t been around him in ages, as he amiably fills the silence. You know he can tell you’re not right, but he’s just… acting like it’s ok that you aren’t.

Midway through the meal, he reaches forward to grab a container and put it in front of you, and it makes his knee come up against yours. 

It doesn’t move away when he sits back.

Then, as the night wears on and the very most jagged edges of your weariness have eased, he makes a joke and you bump your shoulder into him in retaliation. It pushes your legs flush… and neither of you do anything to separate them. He just keeps on being Johnny like nothing is different, like nothing strange is happening, like he can’t see how bloody flushed you must be, like the room hasn't turned to glass and burst, leaving the both of you toppling through the air.

You're not stupid, so you have to tell yourself repeatedly that he’s just trying to comfort you. He’s acting completely normal otherwise—for Johnny—and you look like a person in need of a friend tonight. And same as him, you’re at all your meal nights instead of off with friends or dates. At least for him, it’s because of his career. You haven’t even seen him bringing up a new fling in ages.

…You’re not stupid. Right?

After the food is finished, Johnny putters about cleaning up, working his way around your kitchen like he knows it exactly as well as he does. He puts all but one container of leftovers in your fridge. 

You hug your knees comfortably, just sort of watching him, too full of static to be paranoid about it, and he either doesn’t realize or isn’t bothered by it. Not being a complete creep, you don’t keep it up for too long, anyhow. You’ve got plenty to occupy your thoughts.

He surprises you on his way out by casually setting a mug in front of you. He’d made you something hot to drink while he was cleaning up, and you were so spaced you hadn’t realized. He just gives you a little smile, a gentle squeeze on the shoulder with a stroke of his thumb, says, “Wednesday, yeah?” (the night of your next normal get-together), and moves on toward the door. All normal. But there’s some metal in your chest painfully bending itself into unaccustomed shapes, jabbing places that aren’t used to the pressure, pushing into your windpipe until it’s hard to breathe, and you can’t stop yourself from telling him that you made up a new seasoning blend for popcorn, if he’d maybe like to watch a movie before he goes.

He stands there by the door looking at you just for a split second too long, opens his mouth, closes it, then settles right back onto the couch up next to you. He reaches out an arm and pulls you gently into his side, moving in a way that makes it an invitation and not a demand, while he’s talking about what to watch.

You fall asleep there. So does he.

Things turn a bit funny after that in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. At the surface, everything is the same. But nothing feels the same. Every time there’s a tease, casual touches, close quarters, you have to chant not stupid not stupid not stupid on repeat in your head. He’s just Johnny, that’s all. The guy you could have grown up with.

You keep up the dinners and the weekends, and eventually, finally realize that with him around to take all your extras, you can bake. It’s something you’ve wanted to try forever, but recipes don’t really make single servings, and you never had anyone to pawn off the other 22 muffins or ¾ of the cake onto, or the sheet of croissants, because you absolutely want to try the most fussy, difficult things. And it turns out, when at last he tells you what he does, that Johnny works at the local military base–which at least explains his size–so if he can’t polish something off, well, he knows some blokes.

You’re so excited after that, things almost seem to return to normal. He even comes over and hangs out while you’re baking sometimes. Just knocking about, licking the beaters and the spoons and the bowls, doing dishes as you go, fidgeting with this or that, all while knowing you’re equally as likely to produce something inedible as you are a treat.

Johnny tells you a little about his career one evening. He says that it means he’s in real danger often, there’s a lot of secrecy with people in his personal life, long absences and surprise ones, shit pay, and likely a brief expiration date. (You don’t really let that last one in). He’s got a bit of a funny look in his eyes when he shares about all of it. Quite focused on you, in a way? It makes your cheeks heat. It isn’t as if it’s on you to approve of his life.

But at least now you understand why he’s on his own. And you suppose you’re a bit small, because while you’re incredibly sad for him, part of you is thrilled that it means he’s not likely to be swept away by someone else too soon.

You just gather yourself up, smile, and tell him that at least he’s spending the time he has as best he can, which is a hell of a lot more than a lot of people do–although you personally hope there’s a lot more of it. And that… at the end, you're glad for all the times you're involved.

Johnny’s leaning against the counter while you fold nuts and rum-soaked fruit into a thick batter, his normally busy hands jammed into his pockets, posture a bit off, and so close you almost keep elbowing him on accident, the two of you just bantering back and forth. 

You turn your head toward him to fire back, and–

–his mouth is just there, on yours.

He lingers, but doesn’t move otherwise. It’s… testing, you think. You feel his lips shake against yours, in fact, just once. 

Your shock dies fast and your eyes slip closed, and while it’s a brief kiss, when he pulls away, you don’t open them. You can’t. Because if you’re honest, you’ve probably been gone for him since the first time you gave him a friendly hug goodnight, and it’s only ever gotten worse. If you open your eyes, this won’t be real, or it won’t have happened, or it will shatter somehow.

After a pause, he runs the back of a finger down your temple, trailing the side of your face to your jaw. You still won’t open your eyes, so he just toys with your face until you do.

He’s got a soul-crushing smile at the corners of his eyes.

“Been wanting to do that for a long time,” he admits into the quiet.

“...Oh?” Your voice is embarrassingly, unhelpfully breathy. It’d probably be mortifying, if you had the mental capacity to fully register embarrassment at the moment.

He pauses, smile making its way to his lips, and curling them up at the corners, bit by bit. He cants his head, just a little, like he wants to see you from another angle. “Aye. …Might’ve been since the first time I saw you at the mailboxes.”

“Oh?” 

That had been one of the first times you remember ever seeing him. He never said a word to you other than, “Mornin’” or “Evenin’,” if he said anything at all.

His smile blooms until you can see his teeth. “You were wearing this little shirt. Green, thin. Bit worn, like it was a favorite. Showed a wee spot of skin at your back.” His fingers brush the spot, soft and testing, near the base of your spine, and it jolts you from scalp to toes. “Might’ve… lost some time, thinking about what it’d feel like if I slid my hand up there.” He toys with the hem of your shirt and steps in, voice going deeper and rougher around the edges. “Might’ve imagined pushing it up, getting a bit closer. Really might’ve imagined putting your back up to the slots, mo–”

You kiss him this time, before he can go on, and it’s anything but testing.

And just like everything else about him, this fits. 

His mouth fits against yours. His body fits against yours. And as if some band of control snaps, so abruptly you swear you feel it jolt through his skin, he's got you up on the counter, his thighs between yours, both of you already breathing hard.

His hands on you are perfect, calloused, slipping up under the back of your shirt, smoothing and gripping, making your chest and your thighs feel molten. It's ravenous, like he just has to touch your skin, has to get you closer. You arch toward him, fingers running up through his hair, legs curling around his and pulling him nearer.

His hips are carefully, stubbornly, infuriatingly back from you, but the kiss is so full of need, so close, that some of his breaths sound hollow against your mouth. It's like he can't decide whether inhaling or devouring you is more important, so he just doesn't choose.

When you're at the point of moaning unintentionally, of hungry little sounds forcing their way out of your chest, of your hips moving against the counter in desperation, when you're moments from outright begging, Johnny pulls back, and goes further when you try to chase his mouth.

His lips are red and full, his face dark--much worse when he catches sight of how completely drunk you must look--and he's panting. His fingers dig into your hips like he's trying to keep one or both of you from drowning. He squeezes his eyes shut.

You don't mean to, you really don't, but you look down, and lord help you but–

“That looks painful,” you tell him. Your voice sounds like it's been run over a washboard. He's tented against his denim, and his size is… proportional.

…You can't seem to remember how to make yourself look up.

“Really rather not talk about my cock just now, love,” he gravels, fingers clenching briefly against you. His head tips forward onto your shoulder, breaths panting out against your collar bone, leaving you to pick up every bit of heat he's trying to get out of himself.

You hum, teasing. “Shame, because I can't think of anything I'd rather talk ab—”

His big paw covers your mouth. “For the love of every Saint, I’m beggi—”

You cut him off right back. By licking his palm.

He recoils in horror, but the moment your eyes meet, you both burst into laughter, made worse every time he tries to tell you how disgusting that is, something about his sisters as kids, you don't know what else.

You're the first to sober, breathing almost back to normal, thoughts already whirring on fast-forward. You look down, pulling your knees together, hands gripping the edge of the counter. “Are we…. Will we be ok, after this?”

You peek up to see him looking at you like you're daft.

“‘S been the better part of a year,” he says softly, moving forward and running his thumbs over your knees. Asking your legs to make room again, to let him get close again. “Have you really not figured it out, all this time?” 

Your legs open hesitantly, and he steps in and, when you look up at him, kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, slow and warm and so tender it feels like your chest is cracking right down the center.

Eyes closed, brows a little pinched, you murmur, “We can't all be SAS savants, Johnny.” Maybe you know. Maybe. But it has been all this time, so maybe you need to hear it, too.

He's still kissing, pace unhurried and savouring, making his way to your jaw and just beneath it. But it's calming now, somewhere between reverential and still trying to bring the both of you down. Himself especially, you think.

“Then let me spell it out for you. Gladly.” He noses up against the bottom of your ear and roughs, “You are fucking stuck with me. Glued. Bloody welded.” He huffs a laugh and leans back upright—but not all the way, not too far back. “This isnae a new thing for me. You know that, right? I just….” He shakes his head and abandons the thought, “Hell, my mates have already been asking when they can come over for dinner, the dobbers.”

Your brows shoot up. “You've talked about me at work?”

He looks down, and while his face is in half a scowl, you'd swear he does it to hide a slight flush, too. “Haven't shut up about you, more like. Should hear what my Lieutenant– Ach, nevermind that.”

You hurry to say that they're welcome any time, but it makes him scowl fully.

“Not exactly keen on the idea just yet.” He puts his arms around you, buries his face in your neck, and just stands there, breathing you in. He mutters into the crook of your shoulder, “Mind if I stay like this for a bit? Just while I, uh… calm down.”

His hips are still well back from you. You’re not sure you’ve ever adored and hated him so much at once.

“I’d really like that,” you tell him softly, arms going around his ribs, hands on his shoulders, chest to chest.

It's warm and resounding like this, so after a spell, without thinking, you bite his shoulder. Just sink your teeth in and leave them there. It’s not even entirely conscious, it's just so comfortable and comforting.

“All good, there, wee piranha?” he eventually asks, a smile in his voice.

You detach instantly. “Ah, sorry! I, uh, might have a tiny bit of an oral fixation.”

He groans. “Are ye trying to do me in?”

“I’m not the one who said we had to stop, Mr. Military Discipline.”

His eyes darken in a flash, but he tamps down on it just as quickly and gets that godawful cocky look on his face, instead. “Pardon me for not wanting to rush something that really matters.” His tone goes so soft at the end that you can’t even be mad at him--exactly as you know he intended, the great bastard.

“How did I not know what a sadist you are?”

And that look means he’s about to make you eat your words.

“Johnny I will happily kill you in your sleep.”

“I could handle that. Means you'd be in my bed, aye?”

He pulls your hands up from the death grip they've found on the edge of the counter and laces your fingers together. “I dinnae….” He clears his throat, frowns. “Just being away on deployment is shite now, and I love what I do. But I miss you while I'm gone, think about you back here all the bloody time, and we havnae even….”

When he doesn’t finish, you whisper, heart clenching with the realization, “You don't want to rush this.”

He laughs quietly like he wants to argue. But what he says is, “No. I don't. But while that's true….” He steps in, chin ducking, eyes darkening even as they shine, voice lowering. “What do you say we turn the oven off? I've a funny feeling you willnae be getting around to that bake today.”

Masterlist

[nightingale-prompts]

Babying Batboy

First |Previous|Next

"He's all yours Kori!" Dick said holding up the Batboy burrito.

Danny chirped in distress as Starfire picked him up and swung him around in her arms. "You are much smaller than I thought. So little and cute!"

"Let me see, I wanna see his wings!" Beastboy said rushing over to get a look.

"Nightwing, what's that bag for?" Raven asked Dick joining in.

"It's Batboy's diaper bag." As he said this Danny's eyes snapped in his direction with murder in them, daring Dick to even try putting a diaper on him.

"Æah!" Danny babbled angrily.

"Don't worry he is housebroken." He laughed. "I put his supplies inside. His blanket, his bottles, chew toys, and this set of superhero themed pacifiers. You should give him one now. He gets fussy."

Danny turned red with embarrassment. Toddler-sized or not he was not going to be treated like a baby, at least not in front of the Titans.

"Aww, these are so cute. I've never really understood the use of these things since they weren't needed on my planet but I heard human babies need these." Kori laughed picking out the purple and black Raven themed pacifier and pushing it right into Danny's face.

Danny turned his head to avoid it.

"Looks like the little man doesn't want that one." Cyborg laughed picking up the green and purple Beastboy pacifier instead.

Danny turned his head the other way only to have the red and green Robin pacifier lodged in him mouth.

"I was right, he wanted one that matches his dad." Raven said.

"It's still hard to believe you had a kid," Cyborg said to Nightwing.

"I know, I thought my figure would never recover." Nightwing joked.

The group settled in the living room. Danny was still trapped in Starfire's lap, angrily chewing holes in the pacifier. If Dick pulled out baby food Danny would bite him.

"You know he has deformed wings, right?" Gar tried to sound tactful as he pulled one of Danny's wings to full splay. "His wings are only connected to his back muscles and not his chest. They would need more muscle, bone and wing span to fly. Not to mention the base sits so weirdly at his spine. Poor kid."

Danny hiccuped and tears welled up in his eyes.

One of the drawbacks of shifting is that it requires a shift in your mental state. Cravings, behaviors, and emotions change to match. Currently, the bat and toddler parts are overwriting his sensible older brain.

Right now his feelings were hurt because he worked so hard to make his wing and trained so hard to fly.

"Wehh," Danny whined.

"Gar! You know he might understand you!" Kori scolded him as he hugged Danny close to her chest and patted his back.

"Let me get him." Dick said leaning over to take Danny from Starfire only to have Danny smack his hand because this was all his fault this happened.

Danny pouted leaning into Kori.

"Guys Hex High is one!" Cyborg said calling everyone to the TV.

The other Titans scrambled to get a good seat to watch their favorite show.

Danny immediately perked up to watch.

This episode was a rerun. Nicky the android was debating who to ask to the dance. Rosetta Ferns the bush nymph or Alaska North the Yeti. Nicky doesn't know that Alaska was already going with her ex-boyfriend Finley Reef to see if they can make up and get back together.

"Alaska is too good for either of them and Rosetta deserves better than to be a second choice." Gar sneered.

"Finley was always taking advantage of Alaska's sheltered past to get her to do what he wanted. Remember when he told her that no one would eat the Gundruk she made for the potluck because he thought it was gross." Starfire chipped in.

Danny nodded along he fully agreed. Alaska was his favorite.

Dick hadn't actually watched the show but now he was stuck in the middle of the marathon and he finally understood why everyone loved this show.

Raven was actually the biggest fan and loved Whitney Wisteria the Witch.

Danny had successfully chewed through the pacifier only to get a bottle of juice instead because Kori thought he was hungry.

[augustinewrites]

gojo, to no one’s surprise, is very comfortable with his new, self-proclaimed status as a dilf. 

because he’s well aware of the way people stared whenever he walked around with his eight month old daughter sitting snug against his chest in her mobile carrier. he knows the effect it always has when he would lift her little hand to wave at the enamoured strangers. because all babies are cute, sure. but he’s convinced that rina is the cutest.

you’d wanted to leave her with nanami for the day, concerned that she’d be too fussy, but gojo had insisted on bringing her with you. she was the ultimate bargaining chip, with her adorable blue eyes and huge noise cancelling headphones.

well, your bargaining chip’s nap was cut short when her father pulled her out of her car seat to tour the open house, her little face scrunching with the beginnings of a whine as satoru talks about crown moulding with the realtor. you reach into the diaper bag you’re carrying to pull out a container of banana puffs, handing them to him. 

he shakes a handful into his hand and shoves them in his mouth, talking through a mouthful about natural lighting.

“satoru, you’re dropping crumbs on her head,” you scold, taking a puff and placing it in her mouth yourself. her expression smooths and she gurgles happily, letting you rub your thumb over her round cheek.

laughing, he carefully sweeps the crumbs away as rina peeks up and sends him a gummy smile. he can’t help but beam back at her, brushing his lips against her forehead as he sways back and forth. 

the realtor excuses himself to take a call, leaving the three of you to explore the backyard. 

“this is nice,” your husband hums, glancing around. “a patio, lots of grass for rina to crawl around on– maybe even play with the dog…”

“we are not getting a dog,” you deadpan, reaching up to place rina’s little, flower-dotted hat atop her head. she immediately reaches up to grab at it, but satoru is quick to strap it under her chin. she whines, kicking her legs unhappily as satoru turns to you.

“so, now that we’ve seen the whole thing, what do you think?” he asks excitedly. if he had a tail, you’re sure it would be wagging. “a safe neighbourhood, four bedrooms with lots of space and natural light, new appliances. it checks all our boxes, babe.” 

“it’s pretty perfect,” you admit with a nod. “my only concern is that it’s a little far from the school. your family leave is up soon, and the commute through tokyo is crazy—”

“what if i didn’t go back full-time?” he says abruptly.

“what?”

“megumi’s doing better now,” he starts carefully. “and the students don’t really need us anymore. i’ll still swing by just to check up on everyone but,” he gently pulls rina from the carrier, holding her up so his smiling face is level with hers. “i’ve got someone else who needs me now. and i want to be around to watch her grow up in this house. one with lots of natural light and space to run around.”

he presses a kiss to each of her cheeks. she responds by kicking him in the chin, then grabbing a fistful of his hair. 

satoru is nothing if not adaptable (you’ve known this since the time megumi refused to eat anything that wasn’t orange and he still managed to feed the kid a balanced meal). he’s always able to be whatever people need him to be. whether it’s as a friend, a teacher, a boyfriend, or a father. 

and you’ve never seen him as…relaxed as he’s been these past few months. satoru is nothing if not adaptable, always rising early and returning late, going where he was needed when he was needed. but now he’s finally able to be where he wants, and he wants to take care of his family.

he seems to read your silence as hesitation. “i know it might be a little tough later on without my full-time salary, but–”

“but nothing,” you interrupt, smiling as you press a kiss to your daughter’s cheek, making her giggle. “the three of us will figure it out.”

“just the three of us?” he asks, shifting rina to one arm and wrapping the other around you. “what about a–”

“we are not getting a dog, satoru.”

[pastorpresent]

tw: abuse, eating disorders, mentions of alcoholism

One of Wade's earliest memories was being four years old, sat at the half rotten kitchen table, sobbing hysterically over the food on his plate - all while his parents screamed at each other in the background.

"He needs to fucking learn, we're too poor for his fussy ass to waste food!"

His dad, getting in his mother's face, hands curled into fists as a warning, or a threat.

"I know, but he's not gonna fucking eat otherwise, and you heard that doctor. He's underweight as it is! I've got his chicken nuggets in the freezer-"

A smack, and the reverberating sound didn't even make Wade flinch anymore. He was kicking his tiny feet, trying to lift the fork to his mouth to end all of this, but it's like his body just... couldn't do it.

He was trying to be a good boy. He really was. He didn't want mommy getting hurt because he couldn't be good. It wasn't fair.

"Eat, Wade. Now," and that was definitely a threat, the words growled in his face, and Wade let out a sob as he quickly shoved the forkful past his quivering lips.

"You don't move from this fucking seat until this plate is empty. We clear?"

The grip on his arm hurt, but he knew if he tried to squirm away it would only tighten.

"Y-yes sir," he hiccuped, and his dad smirked, triumphant. As if he'd won, and his tiny self couldn't explain it but it made him feel like crying harder.

It took two hours, and tiny bites, but he finished the meal.

He didn't feel right the rest of the night. It was gone and done, but he felt utterly sick, like he needed the food and the taste out of him, and it didn't matter how many times he scrubbed his teeth with his spongebob toothbrush, up on his tippy-toes to reach the sink, the taste wouldn't fade.

He'd ended up spewing the meal back up a few hours later. He hated throwing up because of how shaky and weak it made him feel, and yet that night? He'd been practically giddy to have the food out of him.

It was the first time, but it wasn't the last. It may of been his earliest memory, but he had hundreds more exactly like it as a kid. Sat at that stupid table. The plate in front of him. Tears in his eyes.

Half the time, he'd just take the beating. At least he could settle after that, and not agonise for hours over the foods presence in his stomach until he was able to get it the fuck out.

He expected to grow out of it, as he hit his teens. He did start actually trying new foods, to usually poor results. His grandmother had scoffed, labeled him 'fussy', her eyes as disapproving as her sons. Wade had accepted the label, wore it with a twinge of embarrassment- because while he was good at not taking himself seriously, it still sucked ass not to be able to order off the adult menu in most restaurants and to turn down completely normal adult snacks because he couldn't stand certain textures or tastes.

He never grew out of it, in the end, but the list of foods he deemed as 'safe' did expand just a little.

It wasn't until he was older and they learnt about neurodivergence in health class that he ever heard a description accurate to his relationship with food. Avoidant restrictive food intake disorder. ARFID.

Wade had scribbled it down in his textbook, and ended up being late home from school that day because he was busy looking it up in the school library.

He could've cried with relief, honestly. A word. A diagnosis, even if he'd never get an official one. He wasn't some unique, one person freak show. It was a disorder. A disorder a lot of people suffered with.

He still struggled, but it was nice to have that layer of understanding.

His mutation made it worse. Changed the texture of his mouth, his tongue, and so things that had once been safe no longer were. He was practically starting from scratch, but he managed.

He got his ramen. His chicken nuggets. His boxed mac and cheese.

It was all fine and dandy and hey - on the plus side, the nutrionless crap he was eating couldn't kill him now! Unless heart disease could beat out regenerative healing, but when he considered how often Logan must've destroyed his liver by now - he figured he'd be fine.

Well, it was all fine until Logan moved in.

Him and Al never really 'cooked". They'd get take out, where Wade could get exactly as he wanted, or if not they didn't really eat together. Al would have whatever she was having, and Wade would knock himself up something of his own, and other than an occasional lighthearted comment about Wade having the dietary choices of a toddler, not much else was said. Al's comments didn't bother him anyway, because he knew they weren't insults. Didn't sting like his father's words.

He did their grocery shop too, so it all worked out fine.

When Logan moved in, he wanted to be helpful. He was struggling to find a job that would take him without a social security number or any form of identification that didn't technically belong to a man everyone knew to be dead. It meant he couldn't contribute to the rent and bills, and Wade knew he felt guilty about that even if he'd told him a million times over that it didn't matter.

He loved having Logan around. He'd pulled him from his own universe to be here. Giving him a roof over his head and sharing his bed while Al took the pullout really wasn't a big deal, and absolutely not something Logan had to repay him for.

He started taking on the domestic duties around the house as a way of payment anyway. The apartment had never been cleaner, that's for sure, and he took Mary Puppins on all of her walks.

It was fine. Everything was fine. Until Wade had came home from work one day and found that Logan had took it upon himself to go stock up on groceries, and cook dinner.

Wade hated how nervous seeing someone standing over a fucking stove made him. He knew a psychiatrist would probably give some dumb spiel about PTSD and unresolved trauma, but Wade just felt like a fucking idiot, freezing up in his own kitchen at the sight of Logan cooking and humming along to their old, shitty radio.

"Hey, how was work?" Logan glanced up from the steaks sizzling in the pan.

Wade needed to get it the fuck together. He couldn't let Logan realise how pathetic he truly was.

"Fine, dull," he replied with a shrug, hanging up his jacket and trying to quell the rising panic, but the smell alone was a lot and he could already feel his body tensing up, his fight or flight kicking in, and he wanted to scream and rip his own skin off because it was so fucking dumb.

"You alright, bub?" Logan asked, pulling Wade from his thoughts.

He nodded.

"Yeah I- need to shower," he excused, figuring it was a good enough reason to dip out and try to get a fucking grip.

"Alright," Logan said, eyebrow raised, "well dinners probably gonna be ready in twenty minutes or so."

Wade nodded, plastering on his best grin, "can't wait, peanut," he said, before quickly rushing out the room.

//

He felt like he was walking into the lions den, entering the kitchen. The shower and ten minute self pep talk did very little to fill him with confidence. Logan and Al were already sat at the table. Mary Puppins waited eagerly at their feet.

"There, the fuckers here. Can we eat now?" Al demanded, and Logan rolled his eyes but he was wearing one of those almost fond smiles, "go ahead."

Wade took his usual seat next to Logan, between him and Al, and picked up his knife and fork, staring down at the plate. Steak, mashed potatoes and green beans.

A normal fucking meal for an adult, and yet Wade felt his stomach tying itself into intricate knots just looking at it.

Al and Logan were chatting about the movie they'd watched last night, but their voices were muffled and distant. He scooped up a tiny bit of the potatoes, shoving it in before he could change his mind, forcing his throat to work and swallow it quickly. He could still taste it, could feel the texture imprinted onto his tastebuds.

He could do this. He could. Just get through one measly meal, and it would be fine. He already knew how strange he came across, and it was an honest to God miracle that Logan had stuck around - what if this was the final straw? Watching Wade waste the perfectly good meal he'd stood and cooked for him in favour of something beige and cooked in the microwave?

If he was going to lose Logan, it would have to be for a hell of a better reason than that.

He kept going, so focused on getting the food down that he missed the worried glances Logan was throwing his way.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but his thoughts were interrupted by the clattering of silverware.

"That was delicious. Who knew your dumbass could actually cook a meal?" Al commented, and when Wade looked up both of their plates were clear. He looked back to his own. At the single missing green bean, and pitiful dint in the mashed potatoes. The hardly distinguishable sliver of missing steak.

"I'm two hundred years old, picking up some hobbies here and there becomes a necessity to maintaining sanity," Logan shrugged, smiling, but it didn't feel like it was fully a joke and it only made Wade feel that much more guilty.

"Well, it's Wade's turn for dishes so I'm off to bingo. Don't wait up," Al left the table, barely side stepping Mary Puppins, and Wade could feel Logan's eyes on him now.

He didn't dare meet his gaze, forcing a bite of steak past his lips.

"What's up with you? You not into steak?"

There was no bite behind the words, and yet they made his breathing pick up all the same.

"I- I am, it's- good, honest. Thank you," he said, taking another bite, ignoring his body's protests, suppressing the shiver.

"Wade. Look at me," his head snapped to Logan. He was already in trouble. If he started being bad and not listening, it would hurt more, and he couldn't-

"Hey," Logan's voice was oddly soft when he spoke, but firm enough to get his attention. He reached over, pushed Wade's hands down gently, uncurled his fingers from their white knuckled grip around the cutlery.

Wade watched him do it, utterly confused.

"I'll eat it. I will, I'm trying," he hated the childlike panic that had taken over his brain. He felt like that four year old again, staring at his plate with a wobbling lip and damp eyes.

But he felt helpless to stop it.

"Do you not like it?" Logan asked.

Wade was biting his lip hard enough that he tasted blood, "it's... thank you. For making it for me."

"That's not an answer bub," Logan hummed, "do you like it or no?"

Wade chewed the torn skin of his bottom lip. Shook his head once. Tried to get his body to calm the fuck down.

Logan reached over. Wade flinched, cringing in on himself, eyes squeezed shut, bracing for an impact that never came. Instead he just used his thumb to release the lip Wade was using as a chew toy from between his teeth.

"Ok, that's alright. No worries, yeah? You want me to make you some of that ramen stuff you like instead?"

"I- I have food, you cooked me it, I shouldn't..." he trailed off when his throat felt tight.

"And you don't like it, which is completely fine. I'll clean up, you go sit on the couch and I'll bring you some ramen in soon."

"Logan-"

"Wasn't a request, bub. Go pick us a movie to watch," Logan stood, piling up all three plates, and Wade could've cried with relief honestly.

He got up and went to the couch, picking out Shaun of the Dead and sticking it in the pink Hello Kitty DVD player he'd scored years ago at the thrift store. He sat down, but his leg was bouncing like crazy and he couldn't get his eyes to focus.

Logan said it was fine, he reminded himself. He wasn't angry. But what if he was lying? What if he was just trying to lure him into a false sense of security? Make that first hit hurt even harder?

His dad had done that, in the past. Wade never understood why. Boredom, maybe? The same cycle of screaming at him, beating him bloody, rinse and repeat probably got old he supposed.

By the time Logan came over, bowl of noodles in hand, Wade was struggling through a fully fledged panic attack.

"I'm sorry, sorry, I'll- been bad, I'm sorry," he couldn't stop shaking, his breath punched out of him as he curled in on himself, burying his head in his knees which he pulled up tightly to his chest.

'You're a little pussy, no fucking son of mine. Stop hiding, boy!'

"Wade, Wade no. I'm not angry, you didn't do anything bad," he felt the couch dip next to him, and an arm wrapped around his back, pulling him against the solid warmth and familiar scent of Logan.

"I'm sorry," he didn't feel capable of saying anything else, and Logan shushed him softly, reaching out to grasp his hand, "it's fine, really. Look at me, sweetheart."

Wade reluctantly lifted his head, looking over at the older man who's face was filled with a genuine concern.

He hated that. Hated that he was so much of a fucking freak, making Logan worry about him because he couldn't get a damn grip on his own thoughts. He knew comforting people wasn't something that Logan necessarily enjoyed, and it was ridiculous and unfair for him to have to do it over something so small and dumb.

"I-"

"Shhh, just breathe. In and out. Slowly," Logan guided, emphasising his own, his thumb rubbing gentle circles around Wade's shoulder.

Wade copied. Eventually, he felt his body relaxing somewhat. He didn't realise he was leaning so heavily against him, eyes slipping closed, until one of Logan's arms wrapped around his waist.

His cheeks burned, but Logan wasn't pushing him off, and there was something soothing about his body heat and listening to the beat of his heart, even if it was muffled by the metal binded to his ribcage.

He wasn't sure how long he lay snuggled into Logan's side, but eventually he felt able to speak a bit more, his throat not so tight and brain not so crowded.

"My dad used to... get mad, if I didn't eat what I was given. Used to beat me for it," he said quietly.

Logan was silent for a long moment, and Wade almost pulled back just to see if he could read his expression. The hand on his waist tightened, fingers slipping beneath his shirt to run patterns over his hip bones.

"Dad's fucking suck. Hell, I killed mine. I wish I could kill yours, for doing that to you."

A sick, deeply twisted part of him wanted Logan to do it. Wanted to watch as his dad squirmed on the floor, covered in blood and bruises, all while he begged for mercy from an angry man who was so much bigger and stronger than him. Poetic justice really, but...

"He's already dead, sadly. Heart attack a few years ago."

"I'd say sorry for your loss, but I'm not," Logan commented, and Wade snorted against him, "yeah, me neither."

The silence returned. Wade hated silence, usually. Would say any dumb shit to fill it. Except it felt kind of... nice, right now. Comfortable. He didn't mind stewing in it for a few minutes.

"You know I'd never..." Logan trailed off, struggling with his words for a moment, which was odd. Wade had never heard him do that.

"I'd never hurt you like that. I know that sounds dumb, given the fact we fought each other a million times in the void, but I wouldn't..." he trailed off again, grunting in frustration.

Wade finally lifted up enough to look at him.

"I know. It's different when we fight, anyway. I'm immortal. You're immortal. I get my own hits in, and I fight dirty. It's a level playing field. With my dad... he started when I was four. I didn't have much of a chance," he shrugged, ignoring the flash of anger on Logan's face at the number, "I kind of like our fights. They keep me on my game, and I know I can't actually hurt you permanently. It's more like..."

"Play fighting?" Logan finished, his tone teasing but Wade knew he was serious, knew it was probably the only accurate word for what they did, "yeah," he grinned, and Logan chuckled.

Silence returned, their gazes locked. Logan's eyes went impossibly soft, "you alright now, bub?"

Wade nodded, leaning into the touch of his hip, bringing his own hand to rest on Logan's chest, "yeah, thank you."

"You want your ramen?" Logan asked softly, hurriedly adding, "if not that's okay, you don't have to. Just don't want you going hungry."

Wade nodded, and separated reluctantly from Logan to grab the bowl. He immediately felt a brief shock of that familiar panic and dread, but forced himself to remember that Logan wasn't mad, hadn't left him, he was right there.

He started eating, and Logan's arm returned to his waist, tugging him back in against his chest so he was situated between the older mans legs.

He looked up with a small smile, but Logan was pointedly watching the TV, even if the corners of his lips twitched upwards.

Eating the noodles was easy, and Wade didn't realise how hungry he'd been until it was gone.

"Can I ask you something? You don't gotta answer if you don't want to," Logan asked, taking the empty bowl from his hands and putting it on the coffee table.

"Sure," Wade shrugged, getting comfortable against him.

"It's... safe foods and stuff, right? You can only eat certain things? It's got a name, an annogram... starts with an A, I think?"

Wade sat up fully, brows furrowing as he looked over at Logan.

"ARFID. How do you know about that?" He asked, head tilting to the side. It's not something he had even knew where to start explaining to somebody like Logan. He worried he'd have the same outdated 'kids are just brats these days' kind of outlook on it that his dad did, but he scolded himself for that. Ever since they'd met, Logan had proved his stance on most topics was oddly forward thinking. Wade remembered one particularly impassioned rant about gay rights one night when some old trump clip had played on the news.

He just didn't expect Logan to know what it was at all, nevermind identify the behaviours as such.

"I never taught at the mansion, but I was around a lot. Charles said the kids liked me, for some reason, and I sort of became... not a counsellor, because I'm too fucked up for that, but just someone who the kids knew they could come to. Few of 'em struggled at meal times. Would come see me and I'd make chicken nuggets or whatever they felt able to eat. Sit with them while they did," Logan had that sort of glossy distant look in his eyes, the same one he always seemed to adopt whenever he'd reflect on his past.

Wade felt ready to melt into the damn couch cushions, his love for Logan increasing tenfold. There was a niggling sense of envy, too, just below the surface. He was glad the kids Logan cared for weren't abused for something out of their hands. That they were understood, even if only during their stay at the mansion.

But it didn't stop the jealousy from burning low and ugly inside of him. He never got that, never had an ounce of understanding from anyone. He was punished instead. Not starved, because he was always offered food technically, but in a way...

"I'm glad they had someone like you to support them. I'm sure that meant a lot," Wade said, no jokes, his face serious.

Logan looked away. That look grew more haunted, and he shook his head, "very little consolation considering most of them died because of me in the end."

"Lo, you didn't-"

"I know," Logan interrupted, his face completely unconvinced, "I know you disagree, that's fine. We don't... let's not talk about it again," he said, and Wade didn't want to drop it, wanted to argue until he lost his voice that what those people did wasn't Logan's fault - but it's an argument they'd had a million times over, and he never made any headway.

It always ended with Logan storming out to a bar to get pissed, likely in some dumb effort to prove how 'terrible' he was, and then they wouldn't speak for a few days until they both missed the other's company enough to put the debate and their pride aside.

So as much as Wade wanted to argue his point, he let it be done for now.

"Do need you to do me a favour though, bub."

"Hm?" Wade hummed.

"A list - all your safe foods. Bit pointless me shopping and cooking if I don't know what you can eat," Logan said, and Wade's throat went completely dry.

He'd wrote a list once. Only once. When he was nine, when he'd convinced himself his parents didn't hate him - they just didn't understand, and he could help. He wrote a list in his wobbly handwriting, the foods he liked - the foods he wouldn't need to expel from his body. He'd drew pictures next to each one. He'd gave it to his dad with a smile.

The smile had been slapped off his face. The list had been hung on the fridge, the only piece of his artwork to ever feature there, as a warning to his mother about what not to buy on their grocery trip.

And now here Logan was. Asking for one, so he could make sure he could stock those things, cook them for him.

He all but threw himself against Logan, who merely grunted at the impact, wrapping him easily in a hug while Wade practically squeezed the life out of him.

"Thank you," he mumbled against his neck.

"Don't mention it."

[honeyhoshi]

scarlet, starlet pt. 1

summary: mingyu intends to make his girlfriend's wishes come true — all of them.

this a part of the man of the match universe

genre: professional football (soccer) mingyu, idol oc, porn with a little plot

wordcount: 3,251

pairing: mingyu x afab!reader

warnings: DDlg kink, d/s themes, both parties are safe, sane, and consenting adults, afab reader, lots of mentions of female anatomy, reader is implied to be significantly smaller than mingyu, making out, dry humping, finger sucking, fingering, squirting, huge mingyu, big dick gyu (canon), slight cum play, cum eating, exhibitionism, unprotected sex (pls dont do it, its not worth it), spit kink (bec i wrote it), creampie (also bec i wrote it), size kink go bbrrrr, bulge kink, dirty talk

author's notes: yet another work written for my lovely @madeforgyu! this is just part 1 of her birthday gift and is a part of the universe we have lovingly poured soooo much time and effort in. wuv u and all of that!

The excitement that comes with a new album and a comeback sometimes gets lost in just how complicated AM♡RE’s schedule has become. In between having to do pre-recording as a whole team, music shows would request certain members to be part of other variety segments which allowed other members to rest or even take on other schedules.

This led to fussy 4AM pre-recording sessions then running back to the company office to film overseas interviews and just napping during the car rides to and from one venue or another.  By the time the whole team made it back to the KBS building for the live broadcast, the only thing fueling you was adrenaline and obligation. It’s a so-so way of celebrating your twenty-fourth birthday.

You try to shake it out of your system when you think of the cute pink drink truck that was parked by the entrance to the studio that your fans were enjoying. You think it could be a lot worse because you did catch a glimpse of the many birthday ads all over Seoul as you moved from one location to another.

But still, it could be better too.

With all the last minute activities and schedules being fit into every free moment you had in the past few weeks, it had been difficult to really set any celebration plans into stone with your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

A pout makes itself present on your face the second you start thinking of him. Having Mingyu around would make everything that wasn’t ideal about your birthday just simply melt away.

At this point, a message from him would suffice. You’re no stranger to receiving and sending messages at odd times but after Mingyu’s good morning message, all your other texts had gone unread.

You’re wracking your head if he had mentioned anything scheduled today but you come up with nothing because you can clearly remember that he said he was taking the entire day off to celebrate with you.

The thought sticks even as you’re being ushered on stage and you only really snap out of it as you find yourself in front of the crowd, the rest of your members bowing and waving before you have to take your starting positions.

You shake it off, thinking instead of how you’re sure a message from Mingyu will greet you the moment you step off stage.

You’re greeted by something far better than a text message when the music cuts and you’re trying to catch your breath.

A large smile is still plastered on your face as the thrill and joy of performing courses through you. The cheers fill you with warmth and satisfaction, hoping that you had given a good performance for the live show’s crowd, but a voice cuts through the usual noise of fans.

There’s a booming voice coming from the side stage and a “That’s my girl!” that sets every nerve on your body aflame in embarrassment and pride in equal measures.

It’s your boyfriend.

It’s Mingyu.

A bright smile splits your face and you can’t help the flush that paints your face pink as the rest of your members turn to see the afternoon’s special guest. With everyone on stage giggling and whispering amongst themselves with their lapels turned away from their mouths, even the crowd was starting to realize that something out of the norm was going on.

You make your goodbyes quick, giving deep bows of appreciation, but the excitement coursing through your body can’t be contained.

Once your leader has deemed you polite enough, offering you a sympathetic smile and nodding towards the general direction of the backstage area, you can’t move fast enough.

You briskly walk towards Mingyu who, despite his effort at dressing to be discreet, is still the most eye-catching person in the room. Standing tall and proud in the hustle and bustle of the music show staff is the top scorer of the Cheongdam Diamonds, offering you the most wicked grin.

There are so many eyes around you. Looks of jealousy, resentment, and also awe are no longer strange when either you or Mingyu are in the room. Having both of you present just meant all of the above, but a hundredfold. None of that matters to you at all when you let out a squeal and jump into his arms.

You don’t care. You’ve stopped caring. Let them see.

You can no longer count how many bad ideas have become good ones when Mingyu whispers them into your ear. You can’t even remember a time you’ve said no to him and his clever ideas. Not that you ever would really, especially when Mingyu always makes it worth your time.

 It starts innocently enough, as it always does with you and Mingyu.

The second you managed to drag him into your dressing room, locking the door behind him, you had peppered his face and mouth with as many kisses as you could as he giggled and whispered birthday greetings every time your lips parted.

In no time, Mingyu had managed to wrap your legs around his waist and was guiding you as you slowly rocked your hips down onto his. The friction was so delicious even through all the layers of your stage costume but you knew that this would hardly suffice for either of you.

“I fucking hate these shorts,” Mingyu says with a grimace as his hands find their way to your ass, upset to find the layer of your safety shorts standing in his way.

Mingyu has always hated it when he would reach down and find your smooth skin covered with a seemingly offensive piece of clothing. On most days you barely wore any underwear around the house, just the way he likes it.

You love the little look of annoyance in his face and trace the lines of his eyebrows as you sit pretty on his lap, “They’re there to protect me.”

Mingyu can only snort at that.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Imagine if we stopped wearing these, then everyone would see what’s yours, Daddy.”

You feel his frown relax underneath your finger, “We can’t have that now, can we?”

“Nuh-uh,” You answer, allowing Mingyu to guide your hips. Even through the stupid safety shorts you could feel how his cock was pressing against the zipper of his jeans and Mingyu always knew how to find the cleft of your center to ensure that you were grinding your clit onto him.

“Why’s that?” He whispers against your lips, tongue flicking out to lick at your upper lip for just a split second.

You bite your tongue at the pleasure slowly building up between your legs and how he’s teasing you with his tongue, “Because this is yours.”

He makes a face of faux confusion before asking, “What exactly is mine?”

“This pussy.”

“Good girl.”

In no time, Mingyu has you strip for him and you stand before him, completely devoid of your costume. In the back of your head you can already imagine the frustration of the staff member assigned to assist you with getting fully dressed again, but the look Mingyu gives you has you pushing the thought away.

He’s sprawled on the couch as if he owned it and you’re dying to fall to your knees between his spread legs, but the second you move to do so, Mingyu grabs your wrist to stop you.

“It’s my sweet girl’s birthday today, so we’ll do all the stuff you like,” He says, standing up and crowding you against the counters littered with different makeup brushes and pots of eyeshadow and powder puffs.

“But I want to suck your cock,” You state as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Mingyu chuckles and you meet his eyes. You’re entranced.

“I know you do, love. But I don’t want you to bruise your knees when I’m dressing you back in that little skirt.”

He has a point and you frown, “How about tonight?”

He smiles as he brings three fingers up to your mouth, “Okay, I’ll even let you choke on it. Now suck on Dad’s fingers, get them nice and messy.”

You immediately let your mouth fall open and start to lap at the three fingers Mingyu offers you, savoring the salt of his skin and the rough pads of his fingers. If you tried hard enough you could pretend they were his cock, hard and smooth and so so delicious. Your little daydream has you salivating in no time, coating Mingyu’s fingers and lubricating them enough for what he’s no doubt about to do to you.

“Look at that little mouth go,” He marvels, “So small, three fingers can barely fit. Are you sure you can suck my cock?”

You’re shaken from your thoughts and immediately a look of distress spreads on your face, “Yes, it can fit! I can make it fit. You’ll make it fit, won’t you?”

Mingyu’s fingers are barely out of your mouth as you try to convince him. The look on your face makes Mingyu smile. It’s horrible and mean and you love it so much.

“Yeah, I’ll make it fit. I’ll make sure my baby will take it.”

You preen at the promise and wait in anticipation as he pulls his hands away from your lips and pressing his mouth against yours.

This kiss was not exactly a typical one. Instead of pressing your lips together, Mingyu licks into your mouth, his tongue bullying its way inside and pushing your own tongue out of the way. He runs this tongue against the roof of your mouth and against your teeth until you slowly start to press your tongue against his.

You groan in relief as he finally eases up to kiss you properly but tense up when you feel one of his hands grab at your left thigh to lift it up and prop it up on the counter. This position has you spread wide open for him. He loves it when he can see all of you.

The slick that’s been gathering between your folds is surely visible in this position and it makes you clench around nothing as Mingyu pulls away to survey you in this position.

“So so pretty,” He whispers underneath his breath, not even to you, just to himself, “Going to destroy this tiny pussy.”

That’s as much warning as you get before he presses two fingers into you at once.

Mingyu is bigger than most men in all aspects. He’s tall and broad, having put in so much time to get his physique to where it is now. His sheer size followed everywhere else. His fingers were long and thick and the press of two into your core has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Whether it was his cock or his fingers, you knew to always expect a stretch. And you loved it.

“Sooo good, Daddy,” is all you can muster as Mingyu sets a punishing pace that has you trembling in his arms in no time.

Each curl of his fingers sent a jolt down your spine that had you inching closer to the edge despite how Mingyu had just started.

“My pussy is taking two fingers so well,” He says, “I think three would be even better.”

You hate that he pulls his fingers out but you’re immediately placated when he brings the two fingers to his mouth to suck your slick off of them.

He makes a noise of delight before removing his fingers and leaning down. For a second you think he’s going to eat you out but instead Mingyu spits out the saliva and slick he’s collected in his mouth and lets it drip down from your clit. 

He moves back to take in the absolutely debauched state of your pussy, smiling to himself, pleased at how messy he’s gotten you, before spreading the wetness with his soiled fingers.

“Are you ready for three, little girl?” He asks, almost mocking. You preen at the nickname and at the promise of the stretch of three fingers inside of you.

Even with the preparation he had given you, he punches a deep exhale from you and he pushes three fingers. The fit is so tight that you can feel how the rough pads of his fingers are. He always did refuse to wear gloves when he lifted weights. Now you want to thank him for it, because the friction inside you makes you want to scream.

It doesn’t help how slowly he’s going either. He’s relishing in how your walls wrap around his fingers, how you tighten up when he slips in a little further. And when he crooks his fingers just right, he can feel how you’re getting just a little bit wetter, slicker.

“You take me so good,” He whispers against your lips, so close it's almost a kiss.

You’re breathless though, mouth slightly ajar, waiting for his tongue to slither between your lips. He doesn’t make a move though aside from a cocky smirk and an arched brow.

Mingyu lets his fingers continue on with their noble job of getting you closer and closer to the edge. Each push and pull of his digits inside you set your nerves alight, but the delicate movement of his right hands make you want to die.

Even as he’s coaxing and orgasm with three fingers on his left hand, the fingers on his right are tracing delicate swirls and unrecognizable patterns along your inner thigh. Every now and then they’d go higher, just by the lips of your pussy.

The pace is much too slow for your liking and you’re worried that your absence would start to seem suspicious. You weren’t at Mingyu’s training center where everything is kept under lock and key with a very well written NDA. You were at Music Bank where staff members were nosy and there was surely another girl group member roaming the halls, praying for your downfall.

“Daddy, faster,” Is all you can manage in between kisses on Mingyu’s jawline, licking a stripe to taste the salt of his sweat and that underlying tinge of just him.

You don’t expect his free hand to come and grip the underside of your jaw, his fingers long enough to reach both sides of your cheeks. He applies just the right pressure to squeeze your cheeks and force your lips into a pucker.

It would be cute if not for the look on Mingyu’s face.

“This is a birthday gift, angel. Be good while I give it to you, hmm?” He says as he begins to pick up the pace.

In no time the pace is punishing, the only thing slowing Mingyu down is how each push of his fingers back inside of you required a stretch and each time your walls made space for him inside you, you let out a little whimper.

When Mingyu presses his thumb against your clit, adding to the already intense pleasure, you can barely keep it together. In no time you feel the telltale signs of an inevitable orgasm.

No matter the method, every single orgasm Mingyu has ever given you was mind blowing, and this would be no exception. You feel the wetness dripping down your ass before you’re comprehending what exactly has happened, having difficulty in processing the immense pleasure coursing through you, your eyes slipping shut at the feeling of cumming all over Mingyu’s fingers.

Your walls tighten around him, even as you spill into his open palm and he continues to push in and out, droplets falling to the floor beneath you and between his feet.

Mingyu’s eyes are fixed on your entrance as he keeps you filled, pleased with how stretched out you are, ready for him to just slip in.

He pulls his fingers out only to move them to cover your clit, gently rubbing, keeping you on the precipice of pleasure, not allowing you a moment to come back to Earth. You’re in that heady space only he take you.

“Eyes open, baby. Watch daddy fuck his cock into you,” Mingyu says with a light slap to your face.

He moves and lifts your other leg up, maneuvering your hands that are wrapped around him to hold yourself open, keeping you fully spread open and seated on the dressing room counter.

Mingyu grasps his cock and gives himself one, two, three pumps to ease the initial need for friction, before he taps the now leaking tip against your clit. A pearlescent drop of precum falls on the hood of your clit and you watch, helpless as he harshly swipes at it with his thumb.

You hiss at rough handling but are immediately silenced when he brings the thumb up and shoves it into your mouth. He presses down on your tongue as if to wipe the cum off his finger. 

He grabs a fistful of the hair at the nape of your neck and smashes your mouths together. You love the way even his mouth seems to hold dominance over your own. The movements, no matter how unruly, are still just the right thing to get you going once more.

“We taste so good together, huh?” He whispers after fucking your mouth with his tongue. He pulls away slightly and lolls out his tongue to let a thick wad of spit fall from his lips down to your center.

The impact of the warm liquid has your gaping hole clenching around nothing.

It pleases Mingyu so much that he forgoes all the other teasing he initially had in mind and just guides the head of his cock to sop up the spit on your pussy before pushing in to the hilt in one thrust.

The blissed out sigh that you let out set him on fire.

Gone is the idea of long, languid strokes to stoke the fire in your belly. Instead he goes with a punishing pace that has high pitched cries slipping from your mouth.

His hands find the thickness of your ass to keep you in place, his hips doing all the work of rearranging your guts. In this angle and position, he can see how the head of his cock bulges in your abdomen slightly. It if was possible, he would have gotten harder.

Having already been so sensitive from hardly being able to come down from your first orgasm, Mingyu’s actions had you reeling into your second one in no time.

“My princess deserves to come already,” Mingyu says, slightly breathless, leaning his forehead on yours “Dad wants this pussy to never let him go.”

You nod in agreement, “It's yours forever. I love you.”

It almost seems pathetic for him to cum at those words, but it's a spectacular orgasm as he pulls out until only the head of his cock is inside you before he slams his hips flush to yours and letting himself flood your pussy with his cum.

You’re delirious as he keeps you steady,  pulling out so slowly to make sure you keep every single drop of him inside of you.

“Keep it in until you get home,” He says, “I want to slip right in the second you get through the door and still feel me inside you.”

You press your lips to his once, twice, and a third one for good measure before nodding excitedly.

“It’s your gift to me. I won’t let a single drop go to waste.”

remy @ahreumtouch • may 8 GUYS I JUST READ THE CUTEST FAN ACCT FROM TODAY'S MUBANK WTFFFF

remy @ahreumtouch • may 8 There's a special guest at today's live performance!! After the Midas Touch recording there was a really loud and DEEP cheeer coming from backstage. The members were all looking to see who it was ijbol!!

remy @ahreumtouch • may 8 Ahreum was so happy when she figured out who it was that after bowing and greeting fans she left the stage but her mic was still on!!

huhu our baby was probably so happy and giggly as she always is! the op of the fan acct thinks its Mingyu!!

thank you Mingyu for loving and taking care of our precious Ahreum! 🥹🫧🩷

remy @ahreumtouch • may 8 CONFIRMED WTFFFFF 😭😭😭 Mingyu was seen leaving Music Bank today!!

SIR U R A FOOTBALLER U HAVE NO REASON TO BE AT MUSIC BANK IF NOT FOR UR IDOL GF!!

[creedslove]

Joel Miller shaving off his beard and his baby is just like " who is this man ? I have never met him in my life "

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: anon, this is very delicate subject to me because of my greatest weaknesses is clean shaven Pedro so I'd totally support him if he just shaved it off and we could watch, touch and kiss that baby face once more 🤌

• Joel knows your reaction to his clean shaven face; you've never seen him without his beard in person before, but you'd seen many pictures of him still young and you couldn't lie if you said he didn't look hot

• yes, Joel looked younger and boyish without his beard but he also looked handsome and you couldn't help but keep wondering what it would feel like to actually kiss that smooth skin, touch and caresse it and of course, sit on his face

• you knew that if someday that actually happened, you'd miss the beard burns a lot, but it was always good to have new and adventuring experiences, because no matter what, he was still your Joel

• when Joel decided to do it, he was home alone, you'd left to pick your baby up at daycare, he didn't really think things through, he just figured beards grow so it wouldn't be a harm if he shaved it off, wanting to see the surprised face you and your baby daughter, Rose would have once you saw him

• Rose didn't have the best day at school, she was cranky, hungry and couldn't take her usual nap because another baby bit her arm; you knew once she got home, she would crawl into her daddy's arms and snuggle him until she fell asleep, not letting go of him, since her tiny little hands would always grip his shirt and wouldn't let go

• it was adorable and heartwarming to see, a frustrating day would come to an end soon and you would enjoy some peaceful quiet time with your family...

• ... And you walked into your home and saw a fresh clean shaven Joel Miller waiting for the two of you, hands on his hips and a shit eating grin on his face

• your heart melted at how young he looked, he was handsome even if he was different but your daughter's fussy whimpers distracted you completely from the sight of your clean shaven husband, who immediately noticed Rosie's discomfort and walked to the two of you, trying to pick her up

"come on baby girl..."

• he said but the moment she looked at him, Rosie widened her little eyes and turned to you, looking shocked which would've been adorable and funny if she wasn't so stressed out; she didn't recognize that strange man, she wanted her dada, so when she was brought into his arms, she wailed at the top of her little lungs

• Joel's heart shattered, his sweet baby Rosie always gripped his beard and squealed in happiness whenever her tiny chubby hands touched his cheek. He sighed as he looked at her, who refused to be in his arms, turning to her mommy wanting her comfort

• but you couldn't do much about it, you walked to them, rubbing her back, as you cooed and kept telling her it was indeed daddy, and Joel did the same

"shh my beautiful little Rosie, it's dada, don't cry princess, we're friends, remember?"

• he tries convincing her but she's a stubborn little thing, sniffling tiredly as she looks at him and only calms down when Joel hums the same tune he used to when you were pregnant, and then he hummed to her when she was just a tiny little fragile newborn, and every single night before she fell asleep, he would hum the same song, and at that core memory, Rosie looked at him curiously and finally rested against his chest, tiredly and allowing herself to be held and pampered by her daddy

• after that, Joel was able to feed her some formula and some grapes she loved and by her bed time, she was already in her dada's lap, giggling and gripping his cheek feeling how different it was without the tickly beard he used to have

• it only took your baby some moments to get used to it your husband's new look, it was different than the usual Joel Miller, but the two of you approved it

• even more so when you finally sat on your husband's face later that night, loving how smooth and slippery his face was under your glistening, juicy core. Even if Joel decided not to ever shave again, you were already pretty satisfied with the experience

____

[wordstome]

Satyr!König Headcanons

Yesterday I was talking with the lovely @kneelingshadowsalome about her satyr König au, and boy, did we cook. Good morning Finland, it's time to take some hairy goat man cock! (Most of these are adapted from our DMs! Headcanons in bold are by Salome, with minor changes)

It's just König's luck, really, for him to finally get his hands on a pretty little nymph to fuck and fill with his potent seed and she runs off on him! And now he's certain that she's hiding from him, which has him absolutely fuming. If she's going to play this little game, he'll just have to hunt her down...

Meanwhile, she’s freaking out because her monthly blood is very, very late, and she suspects that awful satyr is to blame. All her little nymph friends are sympathetic, but they did warn her!

She may be sulking about her predicament, but part of her becomes wildly jealous when she sees her friends are "torturing" the poor satyr. Never even wanted to see that big hairy pervert again, but also doesn't want others to frolick around him even if he's chained to a tree!

The little nymph does end up feeling sorry for the man, so when it's nighttime and all her friends have scurried away, she creeps up to him quiet like a mouse to free him. Of course, she ends up getting a pounding for all her troubles...what did she expect?

He's not making the same mistake letting her go again! He makes good on his promise to lick her to completion, and then she just curls up and falls asleep...silly, silly thing. Giving him the perfect opportunity to scoop her up and whisk her to his lair. Her fellow nymph sisters wail and cry and demand her return, but König's not telling where he's keeping her squirreled away.

She's stomping mad about her new situation. Not only is she separated from her sisters and unable to live free and wild in the sunshine as she used to, but she and König are always bickering and arguing, ending up more often than not with him folding her into a mating press...

She's offended when he brings her fresh meat to eat, which of course confuses him. He had only meant to show how strong and competent of a provider he is, hunting for his woman, but his difficult little nymph has the nerve to turn her nose up at it and scold him. Doesn't he know nymphs only eat berries and flowers and other gifts that the earth gives to nourish them?

Of course she tries to break out of the dark woodland prison he's keeping her in, but the first time he catches her, he only gives her a terrible smirk and shows her the exit. She's welcome to leave, but he lives in the dark, deep part of the woods that the nymphs don't dare trespass in, where hungry wolves and other awful satyrs live...

Naturally, she would never risk being caught and taken to some other horny satyr's lair. At least here he gives some care to her wellbeing and all the attention a sulky little nature spirit could want...

He is trying, she supposes...he's stopped bringing her all that awful bloody meat to eat, he makes her a soft little bed of grasses and flowers to sleep on, and treats her like a fussy little princess. But she can't start growing fond of him...!

König, meanwhile, is on cloud nine with his pretty little nymph. she stays right where he wants her, always pouting and mewling for his attention, and only fusses a little bit when he warms his cock inside her. what more could a nasty satyr like him even want?

It becomes endearing, how well he provides all she asks for. Not that she's ever going to show her feelings to him of course. Just happens to twirl the hair on his chest around her fingers before she falls asleep on his lap...

Falling for this nasty old faun isn't what she signed up for when she straddled him that day. But she also can’t complain, because he is good with that tongue of his…

So good she can't even find it in herself to be mad when he pervs on her when she's resting and trying to get some sleep:

It’s nighttime when she’s woken up with a start. Probably just König back from a hunt, hopped up on adrenaline and ready to breed her again. But to her horror, it’s some other strange faun man, leering at her with dubious intent. Turns out there are downsides to making your little pet nymph scream with pleasure every night: namely, that the wrong person might hear...

Ordinarily, she would have no trouble fleeing or fighting back, but she’s just not used to the dark wood and hard packed dirt of this part of the forest, and finds herself frozen with terror as the stranger approaches her. He’s nowhere near König’s size, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be giving her a tough time.

Then she hears a very familiar roar, but this time it’s not of frustration or pleasure as she's used to hearing it, but raw anger, and she knows her satyr is back and very much not pleased to find an intruder menacing his little nymph. Nymphs are no lightweights when it comes to offensive magic in their arsenal, of course: König's already learned that the hard way. But they call him the king for a reason...his powers are a different ballpark entirely.

The intruder barely has time to beg for his life when König is summoning forth thick, thorny vines to ensnare him, causing the other satyr to holler in pain. The nymph knows what's about to come, and stuffs moss into her ears just as the sound of pan flutes fills the air. She watches in a mix of horror and intrigue as the intruder writhes and panics, tearing himself to shreds on the thorns...

It's over quickly, and the whole ordeal sends her trembling into her soft little bed of moss and grass. There's a brief period of time where she knows König is disposing of what's left of the intruder, and then she feels his gentle touch on her back.

She sniffles as she meets his adoring, half-crazed gaze. She knows she should be petrified of him, considering she just watched him drive another man to such madness that he ended his own life in the most painful manner possible. He's rubbed off on her in a terrible way, though, because all she can think of doing is spreading her pretty legs for him...

Haha anyway hope you guys enjoyed those headcanons! Maybe König's satyr madness will seize me again sometime and I'll write more :)

PS. The Greek god Pan, who is very notably depicted as a satyr, is known for two things that he lent his name to: pan pipes and the word panic. The origin story of the pan pipes is that he was chasing a nymph, who turned herself into reeds to escape him. He then proceeded to turn those reeds into an instrument he could put his lips all over....nasty!

[sephifrog]

Cooking with them

Sephiroth

He’s a healthy eater and has a schedule

He has to have a lot of protein and meat

Though he would respect you if you don’t eat animal products 

And would separate his meat and veggies if you can’t handle having meat around

That being said he wouldn’t stop eating meat because he quite literally needs to so please don’t try and make him because he will get annoyed

But again he would try and compromise and not eat it around you

When you cook together he enjoys the food a lot more it seems more flavourful to him (cue a “it’s made with love!”)

He has a bit of a sweet tooth but hides it

Zack

Can’t cook for shit-type of guy to burn water 

No but all joking aside he didn’t really need to cook growing up so he’s learning as he goes and likes spending time with you

Type of guy to “I can take spice give me the spiciest seasoning you have!” only to choke on salt

He’s white-white so please help him with seasonings 

Once he tries chicken salt on chips he won’t eat them without

He also gives me lactose-intolerant vibes to a slight degree but doesn’t care if it tastes good he's eating it and you can’t stop him

Food fights - he would throw flower at you even when you're not cooking with it 

Feel he burns a lot of the food he cooks but he's a good baker?

Never burnt a cake and brags about it

Cloud

He cooked with his mum when he was younger so he’s surprisingly good at it

He actually teaches you things 

Can’t bake to save his life (so when he has zack’s memories funnies ensue)

Prefers savory over sweet 

Lots of potato dishes 

Cleans as he goes 

Scolds you for eating things before they cool down but relents when you sulk

Honestly feel like cloud is the least fussy but has the most allergies.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four

Okay, nobody does this because they want to be friends.

It smells like new carpet in here. Eddie looks around his new bedroom, all his stuff is there. It’s all neat, orderly. There are curtains hung, the bed is made with new sheets, his books are on the shelf and salvaged records all neat. Even his sweetheart is hung on a shiny new mount on the wall.

“Steve would, he’s a really good guy.”

Billy doesn’t answer, but Eddie can feel the look he has on his face. Well. If Billy had a face at the moment – well. It’s kind of complicated.

Eddie sets out his meds in a neat line on the dresser – only a few more days to go and he’ll be free of those too. He can hear Steve rattling around in the kitchen and heads down the hall to check on him. He’s putting something in the oven, “it’s jut a casserole thing, but there’ll be enough left over for Wayne and I figured you’d probably want to eat and get some rest?”

“Yeah, sounds...really good. Thanks, Steve. I really like, appreciate you doing all this, my room, bringing my stuff, visiting, the ride from the hospital, you know, all of it. I just...had to say it, it means a lot, you know.”

Steve smiles at him, twisting the towel he’s holding into a long rope, “I...it’s no problem.”

You’re doing that thing again. The staring at each other thing again.

No we’re not.

You literally are – and by the way he just looked at your mouth.

Eddie huffs a laugh, can’t help it really, and Steve does the same and looks away and...okay. Steve is blushing. Even Eddie can see that.

“Stay for dinner?”

“I made it for you and Wayne -”

Eddie shrugs, “there’ll be enough, maybe we can add something to it?”

“Okay I’ll – yeah. I’ll see if there’s anything in the-”

“I can help-”

“You should sit, you should be resting-”

This is painful.

“You’re a guest.”

“Eddie,” Steve stands with his hands on his hips, Eddie raises his hands in surrender, but goes to sit at the table so he can still see Steve.

“So...you watched the game with Wayne?”

“Oh, yeah, it was pretty good.”

Ask him how it went and I guarantee you I can get him to kiss you by bed time.

Eddie feels his face flame, knows he’s flushed red, tries to hide it behind his hair as he nearly chokes on his own spit.

“Here, man, don’t die,” and Steve puts a glass of water on the table in front of him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze as he does.

Don’t say shit like that.

In his head, Billy is laughing hysterically.

You really think he likes me?

Yeah man, I really think he likes you. You are gay though, right?

Uhm. Yeah.

Well you don’t sound so sure there.

Well I’ve never, you know.

Man I am literally the ghost of a dead dude living in your head, who the fuck am I going to tell?

In the kitchen, Steve starts humming as he peels potatoes.

I’ve never done anything, with anyone. Ever. So pretty sure I am but I’ve never, you know, tested it.

Huh.

Limited options, you know? Also, not exactly the most desirable, you know, reputation, I guess.

Doesn’t seem to be putting Harrington off.

What about you?

What about me?

Well, I mean, say, hypothetically, I kiss a dude...we are kind of cohabiting here, would that...bother you?

Aw, sweetheart, cute of you to ask...Nah, I swing either way. Eddie nearly chokes on his water, and Billy laughs. I mean, not been with a dude since I left Cali, you’re damn right about the limited options thing. But yeah, I’m not fussy, getting off is getting off, and I figure if I can taste your food and feel it when you scratch your ass...Besides, we’re walking around in your body, no ones calling me a faggot, I’m dead.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Sorry, what?”

In the kitchen, Steve is putting potatoes on to boil, Eddie clears his throat, “I said, so tell me about that Pacers game you watched with Wayne?”

Steve smiles, big and bright, “you really want to know?”

Say you could listen to him all day.

“Yeah, if it’s you talking I could...I could listen all day.”

Steve smiles, then sort of looks away and fiddles with his hair before he comes over to the table. If anything Eddie would say he looks suddenly shy.

Bingo.

“Well, they beat the Celtics a couple of days ago, a hundred and sixteen to a hundred and nine, so they were fresh off a fair win and it showed. Absolutely smashed the Nets, a hundred and twenty three to ninety nine. Fleming and Stipanovich both made really decent showings…”

Part Six

[buttl0rd]

I'm watching like a hawk for that new kid 🤲 THE BABY

ALRIGHT HERE HE IS!! lemme introduce you to the new kid 👉👉

this is carroway - he's the best 😎👽

this is gonna be a long post cause i have so much art and content to gush about. i love this kid 👇

Some fun character details:

he was originally supposed to be like the 90's movie tough bully kid but he's ended up just being a stupid asshole. he probably likes to think he's really cool and tough 💪

has 3 younger sisters, hates being outnumbered by girls

huge foodie and finishes whatever you don't eat. not fussy at all

always leaving his mittens outside. they get all wet and gross in the snow

affectionately ripping on everyone he loves. he's a total asshole but most people know he doesn't mean half the shit he says. the real ones tolerate him 😔🤙

he doesn’t know he’s bisexual (don’t tell him, he’ll find out on his own)

Hobbies & Interests

Aliens. Carroway is a firm believer in alien life and has an immense interest in UFO sightings, alien communication and all things outer-space. He often brags to his classmates that he has been abducted and probed, and is friends with the Martians that visit South Park sometimes (do any of them believe him?). He has a telescope that he set up in his friend Dante’s treehouse which he uses to spot UFOs in the night.

FUN FACT: His probe is linked with Cartman's. It's the connection that makes it possible for OCs to exist in the same universe as canon characters.

Drums. He has a drum set in his garage on which he practices every day after school. He has exceptional rhythm and is very talented. He keeps drumsticks in his backpack just in case he encounters a drumset or anything he can make a beat with (tables, benches, trashcans, etc.) Neighbors complain to his parents about the noise, so his garage is sound-proofed to the best of Mr. Carroway’s ability. 

Snowboarding. Carroway goes snowboarding every few weeks. His family do snowboarding trips and he LOVES it. He also skateboards and rides his bike when he’s not up in the mountains, kid just likes to go fast. He dreams of being a professional snowboarder when he’s older.

TFBW: Boarderline

Boarder is a special flying support unit, part of Coon & Friends. He delivers high-impact quick attacks with his hoverboard and can heal/cure status conditions with his awesome space beams. As a speedster he utilizes the whole battlefield and is constantly moving, making him difficult to hit.

Origins:

He was a human that got abducted and genetically modified by Martians to serve and protect the alien race. After battling in many galactic wars he returned to his home in Colorado. His abilities were noticed by the superhero organization, Coon & Friends and Boarder was recruited to join their alliance. He provides support to Coon & Friends in battle.

Design:

Inspired by the gear he wears when he goes snowboarding.

His superhero costume consists of a white bodysuit with black tape accents and a big old metal zip. There's reflective blue strips on the gloves, boots and around the edge of his signature spaceboard. He's got these iconic space goggles that protect his face when he’s flying at the speed of light.

His name is a play on words - board (from his hoverboard) and borderline (being only just good enough for Coon & Friends). Allies call him Boarder for short.

SOT: Skullrogue

Skullrogue is Carroway’s Stick of Truth character.

He is a rogue-class unit and is quick and sneaky on the battlefield. He has a long black hooded cloak and a skull mask. His main weapon is a pair of daggers that are enchanted with flame magic. He cannot use magic himself but he is proficient with weapons, especially the daggers. He throws them and uses them to stab enemies in the back.

Skullrogue has an undisclosed edgy backstory, like any rogue player. He is mysterious and broody and so cool. He is loyal to the Wizard King and thinks Princess Kenny is hot.

Post-COVID

As a young adult, Carroway becomes a professional snowboarder and competes nationally in competitions. He becomes famous and earns a lot of money from his career, travelling the world for competitions. He makes it all the way to the Winter Olympics, representing the USA in the snowboarding category

After a career-ending injury in his mid-30's, he had to retire from snowboarding early and now lives off his sponsors and used-to-be-a-big-shot money. Despite being wealthy, he moved back to South Park and lives in a trailer (it’s easier than having a huge house). 

He sometimes needs a walking aid to get around and is medicated for chronic back pain.

He was too busy with his career to find love when he was younger, so he stays single and lonely in his 40s. He still goes out and does sport events, commentaries and sponsorships - he remains famous even though he cannot compete anymore. He’s like a living legend in the winter sports community. 

I'm still working on a PCOV design for him so stay tuned for that...

Anyway that's it for now!! I hope you love him 😘

[charliedawn]

Hello i really like your fanfics about the slashers and I have a request as to what if the nurse one day walks in with a baby in her hands and the slashers think it's hers but not knowing she was just babysitting

(If you do not want to do this request I understand I was hesitant when I wanted to ask this😭)

Warning: Reckless babysitting involved

Freddy: "That thing yours ?"

Freddy is cash.

He ain’t gonna beat around the bush.

The moment he sees a baby in the hospital, he’ll ask himself two things: first, who shagged and brought that thing to life. And two, why is it looking at him like its gonna suck his nonexistent soul out of his body ?

And since there aren’t that many women in the hospital and you were the one holding the baby, he would automatically assume that the pink fleshy thing is yours. He would then be relieved to find out that it wasn’t yours. (Not because he doesn’t think you would be a great parent, but because he kinda sees you as the mama bear of the asylum and could get jealous of not receiving enough attention.)

Freddy *proceeds to carry the baby and puts shades on him and moves its little arms to make it dance on the table*

The baby *stares at Michael*

Michael *stares back*

Michael didn’t really care who’s baby it was. He just stared at it. It was such a funny thing to find in an asylum and he just kept staring at it. But then, he thought about who would be irresponsible enough to leave a baby unattended in an asylum with cannibal clowns ? He hence took it upon himself to take the baby and protect it until the mother or caretaker would arrive…

The baby will be safe if given to Michael.

"Oh ! Nursy laid a child overnight ! Didn’t know your species could do that !" Penny joked as he found the baby.

He did have the craving to take a bite at first, but then he realised the baby was under your care. And as he does respect you to an extent, he decided to spare the child. Besides, the child wasn’t ripe enough for him…It wouldn’t be as nutritious as it would be if it were 4 or 5. He would hence say that he would wait until it is older. He would however observe it and smile at it or do funny faces at it when you’re not looking. He would also throw it in the air (giving you a small heart attack in the process) and giggle as he managed to successfully catch it each time.

The baby *crying his lungs out*

Pennywise: "Give it here."

You *suspicious* : "Why ?"

Pennywise : "Do you want it to sleep ? Give it."

You then witnessed Pennywise use his powers to sing the baby to sleep. Pennywise would lull the child to sleep by singing him a song. Pennywise is older than Penny and has hence a greater repertoire and remembers…everything. He would find a song to make the baby sleep and be extra gentle with it. Unlike Penny, Pennywise is much wiser and careful. He understands the fragility of a baby and would know best what to do with it, even more since Pennywise used to have 7 siblings growing up when he was still human. But, do not leave the kid unattended for too long with Pennywise because after all…old habits die hard and unlike Penny, Pennywise isn’t fussy about the food he eats.

"…Ew."

Patrick Bateman is NOT a baby person, he isn’t a person person on a regular basis, but babies ? They are the worse in his book.

Loud, dirty and can’t do business.

What are they even for ?

The only baby he would get along with would be boss baby. But since he is a character in a cartoon, they would never meet. So the very real baby will stay FAR away from him and he wouldn’t even touch it. He would mildly be interested if the baby is yours, but not a lot more…

You: "Jack. You were a father, right ?"

Jack: "Yeah. Why are you asking ?"

You *dump the baby in his arms*: "Here. I’ll be back in 5."

Jack *momentarily stunned and then calling after you.*: "Hey hey ! No ! Nurse Y/N ! Come back here !"

Jack finally sat down on a chair while the baby was just chilling in his arms and staring at him.

Jack *looks down at the baby and huffs* : "What are you looking at ?"

Him and the baby proceeded to chill all afternoon.

You *forgot the baby in a room*

The baby *chilling on a table and about to roll off said table*

Bo *uses his unexpectedly big brother superpowers and catches it before it falls and then looks down at it…wondering what the hell he just did and why*

The baby *giving him the most baby smile ever*

Him *smirks* : "Well…Ain’t you an absolute sunshine, huh lil’ ugly ?"

Also him *carries the baby to the garage* : "Don’t worry, uncle Bo’s gonna take good care of ya. Lemme show ya how to fix a car now."

Brahms would be happy to take care of it, but he would be clueless and would be afraid to hurt it. Brahms is strong and sometimes he doesn’t even realise how strong. He could involuntarily crush the child. So, he would just sit in front of it and be on guard duty. He would make sure no danger gets near the child and keep an eye on it until you are back. He would then ask if the baby could come back when it is a little older so they can become friends and play tag together.

Brahms *making puppy eyes at you and keeps asking when is the baby going to come back*

[beddybites]

Who's the most difficult out of the 21 trio to care for? Do they have a specific person they all hate when they care for them?

they are all difficult in individual ways... but... in most difficult to least difficult---

baby mode: obanai - sanemi - giyuu

non baby mode: sanemi - obanai - giyuu

either way, giyuu is the easiest to take care of. he's very cooperative and his solution for everything is just pretending he's asleep or crawling away and hiding out somewhere.

the only time he's really difficult is when you try to get baby mode giyuu out of the bath or away from water

-

non baby mode obanai is tricky but only because of his physical size & health makes it more difficult for him to move around, and he almost always takes a long time to eat

however baby mode is considered to be the most difficult because of just how clingy he can be. there's a lot of instances where someone will step out of the room and he'll start getting fussy and scared because he doesn't know where they are going.... over the littlest of things, the baby will bawl his eyes out until he makes himself sick .... he's a sensitive guy physically and emotionally

tdlr he's not necessarily difficult-- he's just high-maintenance (and because he's high-maintenance, and obanai is a more insecure individual.... well

-

sanemi is easily the most difficult when he's not mentally regressed because he refuses to cooperate, and spends most of his time angrily babbling or swatting at people. he will throw his food and babble curse words and scream in the most inappropriate situations

baby mode sanemi is really cute though. he's still a bundle of chaos but he's a giggly and happy little thing who loves playing and loves getting to waddle after his big little brother. he's more difficult in the sense of just being very energetic and loud

-

together, they all HATE when tengen babysits. .....

he's a lot of fun and he is really a great guy-- but he will not stop coddling them and dressing them up in the most ridiculous clothes

they also hate when tengen babysits because with tengen comes tengens wives.... which means even more coddling, particularly motherly coddling

insert a lot of "i never want them to turn back!" and "can we keep them???" comments

makio claimed sanemi, hinatsuru claimed obanai, and suma claimed giyuu

suma originally claimed obanai, but she had to switch babies with hinatsuru because she kept accidentally spooking (and irritating) obanai with her random outburst

anytime the three babies are over, the uzui family basically acts as parents to them all and embraces the opportunity to take care of children together

the only time all three babies like them is when they are all regressed. because sanemi has someone who will play with him and entertain him, obanai gets lots of warmth and snuggles, and giyuu has someone to chat with him and sing him to sleep

baby mode sanemi obanai giyuu think he's the funniest entity ever. most of the time tengen will just look at them and it will be enough for all three of them to start smiling and giggling

tengen always says he's their "favorite"

insert angry baby babbles and tengen getting whacked by a rattle

[heraldeez]

i saw your requests were open temporarily, may i request a first kiss with jayce ? i think it'd be cute. i hope youve been well !

I have been well, thanks for asking! Life's crazy because I'm getting ready to move.

DEFINITELY CUTE. I want to smooch him. I wasn't sure if you meant his first kiss, the reader's first kiss, or their first kiss together, so I just knocked down two targets and hoped for the best 🙈. Hope you enjoy!

Jayce x Reader | 962 | SFW

Contains: bad group projects, falling asleep on someone, and some sweet sweet smoochin.

Jayce stiffens as your jaw comes to rest against his shoulder, hands freezing their progress. Chancing a glance down, he confirms that yeah, you’re out cold.

It's another late night at the Academy, spent doing curriculum work instead of work that could change the world someday. Jayce was fighting with a tricky relay of copper fittings. You'd finished your share of the project twenty minutes ago, both the clean copy of delicately illustrated schematics and all the vocal presentation bits that Jayce dreaded.

Nobody likes group projects. Jayce knows he isn't out of the ordinary there. He just can't help but feel that it grates on him more than the average student, faced with the fact that most of his peers didn't actually care about discovery. They just cared about making themselves look good. 

Not you, though. He'd only shared classes with you this semester, but you were always fair in your division of the work.

And you were one of the only people who seemed to be able to stand his… candidness, always laughing it off when he’d get frustrated with the pace, being slowed down by others.

‘It’ll get done either way, slow or not.’ You'd been smiling at him so sweetly when you'd said that, despite the fact that he knew he had been nothing but irritated and fussy. Your patience had left him stricken with… something.

Jayce decides to leave you be, asleep on his shoulder. This project wouldn't have been a problem if the rest of your group members had anything to offer except slapdash efforts and excuses, leaving the two of you with the brunt of the work.

Tonight, Jayce is the one slowing you down, grumbling his way through fixing the shoddy work your other partners had put forward and finishing the things they had neglected to do entirely. To get this project up to his usual standards…

It’s eating up far too much time. The least he can do is let you rest a bit.

---

Your pillow is talking.

“Finally. Alright, I’ve got it dialed in so the fluid can actually cycle through all of the cooling chambers even as a prototype – the professor should be impressed. This is almost professional quality, so our marks should be flawless.”

Your pillow also smells incredibly good, nice and warm, so you elect to ignore it and nuzzle deeper.

“Are you listening?” – it sounds incredibly put out – “Hey. Wake up, we can go home now.”

Blearily, you blink your eyes open and find yourself caught up in Jayce’s gaze, the low lamplight reflecting off the gold of his eyes and revealing him peering down at you, close and tired and – dare you say – almost fond looking.

This close you can see every last eyelash, and how his stubble is starting to come in from the late hour on the alluring curve of his jaw. Despite the bags under his eyes, they’re bright and satisfied, his face almost glowing, the way it always does when he’s worked hard and made something perfect.

In fact, you can almost feel that glow on your skin. When did he get so warm? His ears are starting to get red.

That little detail reminds you just how close your faces have become, but a sleepy contentedness has drizzled its way into your joints, and you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

He’s just so –

“You’re really lovely when you’re making progress, you know that? It opens you up,” you sigh, still half dreaming, watching the flush spill across his face.

Jayce is too busy looking at your mouth to respond, his own ever so slightly parted.

Were you not half asleep, you probably never would have chanced it. But the way he was looking at you almost lost, how close he was –

It felt natural, to wriggle in closer, tilt up your jaw invitingly.

You catch the way his brows shoot up just as your eyes slip shut, and your mouth slots perfectly against his, slow and –

And unmoving. A little shocked stiff. Jayce makes a funny little noise in the back of his throat, something aching and perhaps a touch confused.

You jolt back, suddenly a whole lot more awake. “Sorry. Wow, sorry, I should have asked first –”

“It’s fine,” Jayce cuts in, a little strangled, busying himself with wrapping the prototype in oilcloth and setting it inside its small crate as an excuse not to meet your eyes. “You were – It was nice, just – I’ve never done that before.”

The end of his sentence leaves him in a rush. If it’s possible, his ears seem even redder now.

“Never?” you echo, a bit disbelieving in the wake of how plush and soft his lips had been against yours.

His shoulders hunch up defensively, looking awfully small for such a large man. “I’m kind of a busy guy, alright?”

Jayce’s fingers snap the clasps shut on the lid of the box, but your brain wrapped itself around the way he’d said your kiss was ‘nice’, and you’re itching to try again, to give him something even nicer to latch on to.

“Too busy to give it another go?”

Jayce’s wide eyes cut over to yours finally, from where he’s tucking the prototype into his satchel.

His fingers loosen on the strap of his bag. “Well. Maybe not,” Jayce mumbles, leaning in close enough for you to close the gap again.

The shuddering exhale Jayce gives you when you bring your lips together this time is everything, your hand coming up to cup his jaw and guide him into the most comfortable angle. His movements are still a bit stilted compared to yours, but he’s mimicking your motions in an incredibly earnest fashion.

You have no doubt he’ll be a quick study.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Could we have octoville reaction to octo merchild misbehaving like attempting to beat them up , trying to escape, thrashing in their arms , and even biting , and even cussing them out and giving the middle finger

Yandere Octorio x Octo Mer Child reader

Children get fussy that’s just a known fact. Even the cruelest and most coldhearted know that children are slaves to their unhinged emotions which can be kicked off by the absence of a nap, not being given their dinosaur nuggies, or not getting to play longer. But only the best guardians know how to handle these kinds of behavior at the very least eliminate the ones that cause it:

Azul Ashengrotto 

More than anyone Azul has the greatest authority over you so he claims

You are the mini to his mega octopus status

So when he says your going back to your tank 

Your going back to your tank

“Nooooo!”

“Let him go, (Y/n). It’s time to go!”

“Noooooo!”

He didn’t mind that you were getting cozy in Scarabia 

It meant getting to keep an eye on Jamil

Kalim was perfect for keeping up with your energy 

But Azul notices how your skin gets dry or how sluggish you are returning 

You’re not just tired…you’re drying out 

On a deeper level, Jade’s discovered that your hybrid status has you needing things a mini octopus needs

You have an extremely thin phlegm that keeps you from drying out

And drinking water is part of it 

But with heat like Scarabia’s its best if you spend at least two hours in some actual water 

Letting the water give you oxygen through your skin

But for whatever reason, you don’t want to do that

Annoyed with how much time is taken away with putting on and taking off the bathing suit 

And the way Jamil demands you sit on the scratchy towels so you don’t make everywhere wet

“Nooooooo! Rgh! Noooo!”

With Kalim’s push, you’ll leave Scarabia 

But when you return to Octavinelle Azul gives you some guidelines about going 

And when you refuse he thinks aloud about not letting you go at all

he's mostly joking maybe not

And that sets you off

In the middle of the Monstro lounge your flailing, crying causing a huge scene

And like a struggling single mom that’s just trying to wrangle her kid, He’s straining as he pulls you into his office

Away from the invasive stares and curious looks of patrons

When he’s in there he pushes you in your mini tank clipping on the hole-filled top 

Which doesn’t move at all despite your little tentacles pulling and banging on the glass

He’ll start working on contracts, counting bills, studying all while ignoring your little tantrum

He waits until it stops, sleeping in your little hidey-hole

Then He cries 

Reduced to his baby octopus days he tries to remind himself that his baby just doesn’t want to listen

Not that you really hate him for stopping you from hanging out with someone more fun than him

All the parenting books couldn’t prepare him for this 

But when you awake still willing to wrap your little tentacles around his fingers he gains confidence again

“(Y/n)...how about we make a little contract, okay? Just something promising me you’ll always come back, okay?”

“Mmmm okay.”

Jade Leech

“(Y/n) did you hear me? I said you can’t eat these. (Y/n)? Look at me, do you understand?”

You were being a little toad

Pouting and turning away after Jade didn’t let you eat one of the mushrooms he was dissecting

Some may say that previously working on edible mushrooms and giving one to you every other time may have conditioned you to expect it but whatever

You’ve squatted down low and plopped on the cold floor of his club room

Refusing to look at him with your little noises of refusal

He doesn’t mind being ignored…he knows you’ll forget anyway

But what he does have a problem with is when he turns away you’re reaching your tubby hand into his work station

He snatches your little hand using this closeness to grill it into you to listen

“(Y/n). Look at me.”

“Mmmm!”

“(Y/n).”

“Mmm!” 

“Fine, then you're going to your tank.”

“Noooooo!”

“Yes.”

He’s dragging you or rather carrying you to your tank 

And as he shut whoever’s door to put you away he hears something mumbled under your breath that sets him off

“-old fish. S-upid klunt!” 

“...What did you just say?”

He turns his head like those dolls in horror movies

He gets that you were trying to say something else and he will hunt down who you got that from later but for now he’s bringing the hammer down

No one knows what happens when you're being particularly naughty

The best equivalent for what happens is that he commits to emotionally spanking you

a single look portrays that you're in for it

Talking you down until your begging for forgiveness while you nuzzle against his pant leg

He becomes that parent that you know to behave around

And its Azul who uses the most

“I’m going to tell Jade when he gets home!”

“No no! I sorry! No, please don’t tell!”

But in the end Jade is always willing to forgive you

Always willing to genuinely smile as you tearfully apologize before even being reprimanded

“Aww that’s my good octopus, I’m not angry no no no…I was just disappointed…but you did so well to apologize, good job.”

Floyd Leech

“Eh?! Octobaby hasn’t had their nap yet? Ohhh so that’s why you're so snippy!”

He’s down to play with you but he knows it’s a nightmare when your hungry or tired

He knows right now you need a nap

Even if he has to force you to take one

Now Jade says he can’t strangle you to sleep because you're just too fragile

So he just has to lock you in your tank, play your music, and make sure no one interrupts

That’s who he’s allowed to strangle

Even when you’re biting and thrashing in his hold 

To be honest he hardly notices 

Until your little pincers actually prick him some

“Did you just…bite me…?”

“...n-no..”

“Yes, you did.”

“I-i sorry. I sorry!” 

His silence speaks loudest

He’s angry

It just won’t be at you

He’s oddly nurturing putting you to sleep 

Then he’s raging at everyone who gets in his way 

“Who. The. Heck. Made them miss their nap?!”

He’s not letting anyone hurt you let alone ruin your schedule

There is a schedule for how they take care of you

He actually is really vigilant about it

So he is livid when others come and mess with that

“Octobaby bit me today…”

“Oh did you reprimand them?”

“Nope did it themselves! Besides it was the cutest little prick, if they weren’t acting out I’d want them to do it again!”

[swee7dream]

hi very late but may I request a cute cg!jaehyun taking care of a VERY fussy little!reader hehehehehhehehehehheheh cant wait to see what u write :)) (saying this bc I was very late but I saw you saying like a week or 2 after u saying u wanted to write jaehyun fics..)

no ! ( but okay ) caregiver ! jeong yoonoh x age regressor ! reader

genres age regression content , fluff warnings reader has hair long enough to put behind the ears dni nsfw / kink author's note FAV MOOT . i will go to war for you . as someone who is extremely fussy when small , you and i are cut from the same cloth . hope u like it ! tag list restarting ! lmk if you would like to be added .

“No, no, no…”

“Come on, Honey.”

“Not finish yet.” You ignore Jaehyun’s gentle hand pushing the hair behind your ear, scribbling your crayon furiously to the paper on the floor like a painter struck with genius inspiration.

“Can we finish this later? Tomorrow, maybe?”

“No, no, no, no, no…”

Jaehyun’s eyes flutter shut. You’ve entered your ‘no’ phase all of a sudden and it has been carving at his patience. It’s not that he never wants you to say no, but when it comes to eating your lunch or cleaning up your toys or changing out of your outside clothes for comfy, clean inside clothes, he can’t deny it’s frustrating. He just wants the best for his baby, why can’t you see that?

“Baby.” He looks down at the phone in your other hand, currently shining a terrifying (in Jaehyun’s opinion) four-finned shark-dinosaur-thing. Papers surround your curled-up ball self on the floor, each one detailing a different kind of dinosaur. “The dinos need to sleep too, baby. We need to start getting ready now so you don’t forget to brush your teeth ‘cause you’re just so sleepy.”

“Nuh-uh. Dinos can’t sleep. They’re dead.”

His shoulders slump in his crisscrossed sitting position in front of you. It’s difficult to keep up with the canonical and non-canonical existences of your baby world.

“Okay… maybe. But when they were alive, they had to sleep.”

“…maybe.” You throw him a bone! Finally, it only took an hour.

“Yeah?” He places a hand over the screen. “There are those pretty eyes. Hi Honey.”

“Hi, Hyunnie.” You frown. “Hyunnie let go.”

“The phone told me he’s very tired and would like to go to bed now. Sorry, baby.”

“Not true, phones don’t talk.”

“Mine does.” He gives you a look that says ‘so embarrassing for you…’

You squint at him, unamused.

“Hyunnie let go.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. My hand fell asleep. Right here.” He shines his dimples at you innocently.

“Let go!” Your blue crayon is left forgotten to roll under the couch as you pull and pull on Jaehyun’s arm.

“No!” He sings, finally taking matters into his own hands, quite literally, by pulling you onto his lap. “Bed time. Bed time for my baby.”

He rocks you side to side, cheek resting on the top of your head as he confines you in between his arms.

“No!” You squirm around but to no avail. “No bedtime. No tired!”

“Mmm, yes!” You feel his lips press to your head. “Bedtime, bedtime. Time for jammies and teeth brushing and stories. Doesn’t that sound fun, baby?”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“No-o-o-o-o-o!” Your voice shakes as Jaehyun’s soft rocking turns more into a shake one would give only to a potato sack.

“Ye-e-e-e-e-es!” He smiles down at you as he finishes his best imitation of your little tantrum.

“No.” You frown up at him, but his eyes catch the quirks at the end of your lips that you fail to push down.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes!” He attacks your cheek with a kiss, littering your face with them as he continues. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”

“But why?” You give in, allowing yourself to go limp in Jaehyun’s hold.

“Because,” He mocks your whiny tone. “It’s late. It’s late and you get really mean when you don’t sleep enough.”

“That’s not true!”

“Hey.” He pinches your nose. “Why are you fighting me so much lately? It absolutely is true and you know it. Do you want Hyunnie to be all sad and weepy tomorrow? I’ll cry. You know I will. Wanna see? W-”

“No!” You giggle, putting both your hands up to cover his face. “Don’t wanna see Hyunnie sad. But am just no tired, Hyunnie.”

Another kiss to your palms lets Jaehyun see your face again.

“But I am. Can’t you just get ready for bed with me? It’s so scary to be alone.” He pulls you into his chest, squeezing but never too tight. “So scary! I need my Honey to help me!”

“Not scary, Hyunnie.” You giggle. “But okay. Honey help!”

“Really?” He pulls you away to meet your eyes and bumps your foreheads together. “Really really? For reals? How many reals are you talking?”

“All the reals!” You beam.

“Oh, thank you, baby. You sure are doing Hyunnie a solid.”

—

You didn’t realize how cold you were until you put your pajamas on, soft and warm, still smelling of laundry detergent. It’s like wearing a blanket and you rub the fabric against your arms to warm yourself up some more.

Your socks slide against the wooden floor as you hear Jaehyun take his turn to brush his teeth in the bathroom. You left a total mess! Your artwork is all over the floor, what if you lost one?

Not feeling like wanting to clean up at the moment, you put your crayon box on the coffee table to put it in its proper place tomorrow.

Wait.

You’re missing one!

Where did it go?

You hum to yourself as you gather all your drawings in a neat pile, making a mental note to yourself to date them all in the morning. You search under the table and behind pillows and blankets. Where is your green crayon?

“Ah-hah!” Jaehyun spots you back in the living room, face to the floor.

“Baby, what are you doing?”

“Found my crayon, Hyunnie. Thought I lost it.” You lift yourself up, pulling your hand out from under the couch to show it to Jaehyun proudly.

“I’m glad you didn’t lose it, Honey.” He smiles. “But you didn’t have to get on the floor for that. You’re gonna get your jammies dirty.”

“’s okay! Needed my crayon.” You kneel over to slide the crayon back amongst its brethren in the paper box.

“Don’t you have a lot of other ones?” He helps you up by the hand.

“Not the same. Different shade o’ green.”

“Mmm, makes sense.” Jaehyun notices the pile of paper on your arm. “You’re taking your drawings to bed?”

“Yeah. Not tired so Honey’s gonna do storytime today.”

“Oh, really? Thank you, baby. You’re gonna teach me about dinosaurs?”

“Yeah.” You flop onto the bed. “Dinosaurs are super cool.”

“But aren’t they scary?” Jaehyun flicks off the light in the middle of the ceiling, warm soft light from your nightstands keeping the room from complete darkness.

“No. ‘cause they’re dead,” You explain simply.

“..right. I forgot that for a second.” He lifts the covers and slides inside the bed, shivering at the still-cold sheets. “Your drawings are just so good, baby, I thought they were pictures.”

“I get that a lot,” You say, rubbing your head against his arm. “You ready?”

“Ready Freddy.”

“Who’s Freddy?”

“I don’t know.” Jaehyun pauses to think. “Someone who’s ready, I guess. Go on, baby. Show me your dinos.”

“Okay!” You go through your pile of drawings and end up deciding on your most recent creation. “This one’s not finished, but it’s called a Liopleurodon. It existed in the Jurassic period. It was an apex predator—that means that no one could fight it and win! It just went chomp chomp and everybody died.”

“Oh, I see. It’s kind of like you, in a way.”

“What?!”

author's note ( pt 2 ) sorry for taking so long ! i have no excuse , just trying to deny the reality of valentine boy being gone . haven't been keeping up w nct lately bc of irl stuff + the boycott so if anyone has a google drive or anything like that for sm artists , pls lmk ! and as always , comments and constructive criticism are accepted and encouraged . just be nice or i will be finding your loved ones ' contact information and telling them you're CYBER BULLYING . hope everyone is having a good day and if not i hope it gets better !!