#cel! rants

[heeheeswifey]

'i can't touch you, but I'm gonna make you mine.'

DESIRE:UNLEASH on june 5th

this boutta be some freaky mini album guys I'm so excited

[heeheeswifey]

man idk about ts help me 😞

[celtrist]

Hazbin & Helluva Vs. Aromanticism

(Aka: I have a problem with the Spindlehorse team about this, not shippers.)

(Also this is mainly about Alastor but can go for Octavia and Mammon too.)

Alright, so I've cleaned up this uh... rant, to make things a little more clear hopefully. But to summarize here, this is about the team's lack of commitment when every other character is allowed full confirmation of their orientations but these (potentially) aromantic characters aren't.

While I have no beef with shippers (I think you can ship whoever with whoever you want, I ship Alastor too on occasion), there is some conversation about how the fandom might be a bit of a reason WHY they "can't" be confirmed as aro. But again, my main problem is more with the showrunners than the fandom at this point about this.

I'll also be getting into why it's "important" and the double standards against characters being aromantic.

This is not an attack, ship however way you wish (again, I do it myself). My intent isn't really to stop the shipping, that would be ridiculous. But more so to give my thoughts on why it's BS characters like Alastor can't be confirmed as aromantic when other characters are allowed confirmed orientations.

I will start off by saying I don't mind the shipping of Alastor. While it's NOBODY'S business but mine, I suppose it's important to clarify that I'm someone who does currently identify as aroace. I might be wrong but who cares, it's how I think of myself now at least to some degree (I do after all still have fictional crushes. Real-life romance is not an interest for me though, don't like 'em).

I'm gonna get what I don't think people talk about enough on both sides of being for and against shipping Alastor, and then I'll talk about the shippers as they're (I realized) not my main issue at this point.

A little history: So Alastor has been long time confirmed as an ace character. He hasn't been confirmed as being sex-repulsed or anything, but I can personally say I don't mind either flavor of him being repulsed or favorable (though I imagine the series will lean towards the former to counter everyone else's sex-favorable attitude and for jokes). This statement was initially taken VERY poorly by fans who, at the time, were shipping radiodust and radiobelle/charlastor, one more than the other. Care to take a guess which? The answer will not surprise you.

But then people realized "Oh, asexual doesn't mean he COULDN'T get with someone" and people even went further to "Being asexual doesn't mean he CAN'T have sex", both very true statements. So shipping was back on the menus boys! And his asexual was certainly blurred a bit (to the point where it wasn't even him being sex-favorable asexual as much as just not asexual, something that still happens but certainly not as bad). But overall, people were taking his canonicity as asexual with as much grace as a duck.

So here's where MY problem comes in. While I have some gripes with shippers, I had an epiphany that "Oh. It's not really the shippers I have a problem with. It's the people WRITING THE DAMN CHARACTER". Which, might I just say, is so much worst.

The shippers, while they got annoying at some points and certainly can be still, are just having fun. Because shipping just happens to be the way most people like to interact with characters in the media they're into. Hell, I am no different. I just have the misfortune of only really getting into rarepairs most of the time (curse you my bizarre tastes). I've even shipped with Alastor, I like AngelicSmile/radiojoy quite a bit.

Back on track. Now, what do I mean by my main problem being with the writers more than the fans with this? Well, queue this darling of a clip about the topic (this is the only clip I've found of the live stream, feel free to watch the whole video but just wanted the clip here).

This. Single. Clip. Infuriates me.

Vivzi, while I'm sure not meant to, pretty much implied "Alastor being aromantic and 'non-shippable' would ruin people's fun". I'm sure she meant it as a way to keep others from policing shippers (which didn't work, it still happens), it really just reads as "a character being aromantic is not a fun character". Like there's something wrong with being aro.

Not to mention some other things that would contradict this statement:

Viv in the past said "fans are allowed to ship outside character orientations", so... what makes that so different here with confirming Alastor as aromantic?

It being confirmed is not relevant to the plot. Great, so is every other orientation not relevant. Why can't Alastor be confirmed as aromantic but Vaggie can be confirmed as a lesbian or Vox bi? What does Vox being bisexual have to do with the plot? Neither is relevant to the plot, but one can be confirmed but not the other?

People were gonna ship him ANYWAY. Like, there's really no point in pretending. They were going to anyway because of the first point I already mentioned, but also people ship against canon orientations ALL THE TIME. It's just gonna happen and there's nothing wrong with that in of itself.

You've kind of just implied it's canon by not wanting to say specifically him being aromantic is canon or not. If Viv had just said "I don't wanna confirm his romantic orientation because...", then this statement would be fine and fair I suppose. But she had to call out him being aromantic specifically. And I mean, he COULD be something else (he was slated to be a couple with Mimzy originally after all), but the context doesn't seem like that would be the case. Plus, would she really feel the need to hold back from saying "Alastor is homoromantic" or biromantic or heteroroman- actually yes for that last one probably.

So riddle me this, with these points, why the FUCK would it be so wrong to confirm Alastor as a canonically aromantic icon and help get MORE REP for this very very very VERY underrepresented orientation? And I've thought of a few reasons to this, one of which being to avoid the same backlash that they got for Alastor being ace. Which, DID HAPPEN WHEN THE VOICE ACTOR AND SOMEONE ELSE ON THE SHOW CONFIRMED ALASTOR AS AROMANTIC BUT BACKTRACKED ON THE STATEMENT.

To which, fine. THAT'S on the fans (especially as no one would've complained if he was confirmed as homoromantic, which is a double standard VERY PRESENT in this fandom, but also many others quite honestly). But I can see another reason is to avoid others policing shippers about it.

Which, if that's the case, shit luck it's happening anyway.

To cower away from this orientation because of fans being upset says a lot, both about the fans and the creators. There is a whisper of "Alastor isn't allowed to be aromantic". That "being aro isn't allowed or appreciated".

We live in a world that at this point has a lot more lgbtq+ characters than ever before. At this point, there's just a lot of gay/lesbian and bi characters, and that's wonderful. But, there's barely a handful of aroace characters. And when they are, nobody wants to pay attention to that part of the character. So why can't the deer man be aromantic? I would imagine it would honestly make things a little better ship wise because ship wars wouldn't occur seeing as, well, there's no ship to be fought for. None of them could be canon.

So you might see where I'm leading into this, but I can only really think of one real reason Alastor being aromantic just "can't be confirmed" where as everyone else's orientations can be.

His popularity. Like, that's weird but walk with me here. Alastor is the most popular character in the fandom. There's honestly no denying it, he just is. And what do people do with the most popular character?

THEY SHIP THEM OFF IN A LOVEBOAT.

But wait, if he's aromantic, he can't be on a love boat. THIS IS BS-

And then... the outcry. And we HAVE seen this happen. I mentioned before, he was stated to be aromantic on two occasions by two people who work on the show, one of which is his voice actor (which I'll be fair, I personally don't think VAs always know the characters they play the best, that's the writers). But they had to backpedal because people DID complain. People WERE upset. So it's kind of shown just aromantism isn't really welcomed, at the very least not for a character like Alastor.

And that's the key: "Not for a character like Alastor". But if it were say, Niffty or Mimzy who are either overlooked or just not very popular, THEN it's probably more than okay for a character to be aromantic. Because no one wants to ship with them much, so they can be aromantic all they want.

AKA. The aro community is allowed the scraps but not the dinner.

At this point, you've probably noticed I switched gears from the creators to the fans because I DO think they could be a reason why Alastor "can't" be confirmed as Aromantic. I'll give credit, I'm pretty sure it's mainly on twitter and wouldn't be surprised if it was a "loud minority" thing going on, but the people have spoken. They vehemently cannot STAND the idea of Alastor being aromantic.

But I don't have a problem with these people quite honestly- I mean I kinda do, but my main issue is the lack of commitment when the other characters are allowed confirmed orientations. Why can't aromantic people get confirmed rep? Because "it'll ruin people's fun?" That's such a crappy reason because it's just saying being aro is bad on some level or isn't okay. Why can't the aromantic community get the dinner this ONE TIME? It's one character in a pool of many others that are canonically gay or bi, so why can't the aro community have this ONE popular character?

I'm not even asking for people to stop shipping him, I think that's perfectly FINE. It wouldn't change the canon. I'd appreciate more LOVE given to the aromantic identity (and I'm talking about the far end of it, so absolutely NO interest in romance as many have used aro Alastor but it still comes off as just normal shipping, but that's just me). There's such a double standard to the treatment of aromantic characters to the other characters in these shows (because Octavia and Mammon are in the same boat here), and the reasons given are so crappy that they sound more like off-hand excuses.

Again, I don't MIND people shipping Alastor, or Octavia, or Mammon who is randomly shipped with Adam the most. Let me repeat:

YOU. ARE. ALLOWED. TO. SHIP. THESE. CHARACTER.

But what I have a problem with is that these characters aren't allowed to be OFFICIALLY aromantic. How would it feel if this was a gay character? That they didn't want to confirm it but there's been indications with past statements and even in-universe stuff indicating so? I WANT Viv and her team to STICK with what route they were gonna go with.

And some might argue "what's so bad with nothing being confirmed?" Other than the fact every other character's orientations are allowed confirmation and Viv's crappy way of putting it in not confirming anything. There's, by all technicalities, nothing wrong.

However, if I may pose a counter, why is it fair for people to demand or ask for gay representation or confirmation but not aromantic? Because it's "not ruining anything"? If that's the case, I'm inclined to say that may be a bit aphobic. Because how is it that a character being aromantic can "ruin" the character or something, but a character being gay DOESN'T "ruin" the character. It's a double standard that I don't think most people realize or want to say because you don't want to be dissing on gay stuff.

But WAKE UP SHEEPLE. The gay stuff has PLENTY of things by this point. Whether through fan works or official media, it is growing and it is growing rapidly. And we should be HAPPY about that. But alternatively, Aromantic (and asexual) rep BARELY gets any attention in either fan works or official media. People would be UPSET if a ship like Angel Dust X Vaggie or Stolas X Verosika got into one of the top most popular ships. But Alastor? Nah, it's fine.

Again, while I don't mind the shipping itself, hopefully, you can understand how it might feel to see one of the most popular ships involve a character that goes against their orientation and it's YOUR orientation. It doesn't. Feel. Great.

And not everyone who ships Alastor even would LIKE him to end up with who they ship. Some people just like it staying in fanon. I have met SO MANY nice people who ship Alastor with characters that I personally don't really like him shipped with. But it's clear that I don't think THEY'D mind if he was confirmed aromantic because it doesn't change their life. They'll still keep shipping him because that's fun for them and that's FINE. People explore themselves through characters with confirmed orientations and they don't always line up with canon, and that's FINE. I don't think people should be policed on shipping with the deer man, they're just having fun. Would I appreciate a little more love for the aro identity? Sure (I mean just look at Alastor's ship weeks activeness vs. his aro week activeness), but if that's not how people have fun they shouldn't be forced to do stuff with it.

But Alastor being seemingly "not allowed" to be confirmed as aro has set a precedent that there's something wrong with being aromantic. And personally, it makes me feel a tad unwelcomed sometimes.

It's the precedents. Again, why is every other character's orientation allowed to be confirmed but Alastor's isn't? What is so wrong with him being aromantic? Hell, he might not even BE aromantic. But at least I'd KNOW instead of floundering around hoping upon a star for some aromantic representation.

It's okay to be gay but- WHOA HOLD YOUR HORSES THERE. WE'RE GONNA HAVE TO PUT A PAUSE IN THAT ARO BUSINESS YOU GOT THERE.

A character's worth is in how shippable they are. And if they're aromantic, they're not shippable. And unfortunately, there are just enough people to throw a hissy fit about it that Viv doesn't want to confirm it.

Because apparently being aromantic would "ruin" things.

[heeheeswifey]

uhh guess who's writing a threesome abt Jake and sunghoon?! (Be patient plz gyes) (And guess which tropes)

[pika-blur]

PYOKORAPPAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[stardestroyer81]

Inspired by this post by @artpro86, I wanted an excuse to draw my latest blorbo, Cindy Bear, in a similar fashion... it didn't take me too long to be struck with an iconic reaction image to redraw with her instead.

[devilbrew-69]

The toxic positivity from the sonic fandom is really starting to leak into the Jet set radio one. Yes, it's amazing we finally have a new game coming but fans should still be allowed to express their criticism. Many fans including myself were hoping that the new JSR would have cel-shaded graphics instead of the realistic look seen in the trailer. Jsr's comic book aesthetic was a huge part of its charm so it's disappointing that Sega discarded it for something else. It just feels like all games nowadays are trying to look the same instead of being boldly different/avant-garde. I'm tired of fans telling everyone else we should just be grateful for what we got. That mindset is why Sonic has a whole dumpster worth of mediocre games.

Bomb rush cyberfunk did a much better job at capturing JSR's art direction from its first trailer alone. I'm sure the final product will still be good but it's a shame to Sega throw away the Y2K aesthetic.

[muddlemore]

i know the funky phantom is heavily made fun of for its poor production quality and this might be cope BUT ive always seen the errors as a great look at animation development

like not only are we ever gonna get to see behind the scenes of the show but visible cel markings and frames are so fucking cool to me in general and i love getting to see them in action

[raggydollsscreenshots]

Posting screenshots from The Raggy Dolls every day until ITV puts it on ITVX: Day 131:

[celeryw]

my friends are so good at tolerating me lmao

[heeheeswifey]

yipyipyip

𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 (p.sh)

PAIRING: sunghoon x pregnant!reader (f)

SUMMARY: when the two pink lines appeared on the pregnancy test, the life you had so meticulously built crumbled. but sunghoon gathered the pieces back together, shaping a new life with your two babies.

WARNINGS: pregnancy, suggestive and mentions of sex (no smut), angst (if you squint?), fluff, crack by the end, sunghoon is so caring, their love makes me puke, description of labour and a c-section (i gathered my knowledge from grace anatomy), reader worries a lot, sunghoon works hard, twins (yohan and haneul), bed rest, a little complication with one of the babies, happy ending, pet names (babe, baby), lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 3rd March 2025

WC: 6.5k

TAGLIST: @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy @enhamonsterghoul @star-hoon (oneshot) @starry-eyed-bimbo @saphiranishimurashan @jkslvsnella @vrusha01 @notcamii @deluluscenarios @m1kkso @youngheejay @lovingvoidgoatee @motherscrustytoenailclippings @sukisvr @yoonzns @kayjiguki @12e45 @irahina @geniejunn BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED.

NOW PLAYING: Unconditionally by Katy Perry.

a/n: i hope y’all like this, please REBLOG to share and stay tuned for the other members’ fics. <3 sorry for any grammar error, i’m sleep deprived. anw, do you think i should make a small drabble when the twins are older too? lmk.

You hadn’t planned for this. No one really does, do they? 

One month ago, you were just a college student, studying hard, dreaming of the future, with your boyfriend, Sunghoon, by your side.

The two of you were inseparable, sharing classes, meals, and the occasional late-night walk around campus when life felt too overwhelming. 

You thought you had time. time to grow, to figure things out, to live freely before settling into something serious.

But life had other plans.

When you found out you were pregnant, it hit you like a train. 

You remembered sitting on the cold bathroom floor of your dorm, clutching the positive test in your trembling hands, staring at it until the lines blurred from your tears. 

The first thing you thought about wasn’t yourself but Sunghoon. 

What would he say? What would he do? Would he be scared, angry… relieved?

He wasn’t any of those things. 

When you told him, he just pulled you into his arms, held you so tightly you thought you’d break, and whispered over and over that he loved you. That he’d take care of you. That you’d figure this out together.

But love wasn’t enough to stop reality from crashing down.

The college didn’t offer much sympathy. 

As soon as you dropped out—because there was no way you could keep up with tuition and prepare for a baby—they kicked you out of the dorm. No exceptions.

You weren’t a student anymore, so you didn’t belong. It didn’t matter that you’d lived there for years.

You packed up what little you had, stuffing clothes and textbooks into worn-out suitcases while Sunghoon silently paced the small room, phone pressed to his ear as he tried to find somewhere — anywhere — for the two of you to go.

By some miracle, he did.

It wasn’t much. A tiny apartment on the outskirts of the city, far from campus, far from everything you knew. 

The rent was low because the building was old and falling apart, but it had four walls, a roof, and running water. It was home.

Sunghoon tried to stay strong. He was a student, just like you had been, with assignments and exams and his own dreams. 

But those dreams had been put on hold— at least, the version of them he once had. Now, instead of studying in the library with his friends, he was filling out job applications. 

Instead of thinking about internships or grad school, he was wondering how to pay for diapers and formula.

He landed a part-time job at a convenience store after a week of searching, and though he came home every night exhausted and smelling like instant noodles and cold air, he always kissed you softly and asked how you were feeling, if the babies were okay.

Babies. Plural.

That had been another shock, one you’d gotten at your first ultrasound: Two little heartbeats. Two little lives. 

You’d cried then, too. Half out of fear, half out of something that felt a little like awe. Sunghoon had cried with you, holding your hand so tightly his knuckles went white, whispering that it would be okay.

And you believed him. For a little while.

But things were hard. 

The convenience store paycheck wasn’t enough, not when rent, groceries, and prenatal visits drained it so quickly. And even if your parents managed to send you their savings, it still was too little for prenatal vitamins and all the things you had to buy for when the twins would be born.

Sunghoon started losing sleep, staying up late to study after work, waking up early to make it to class, and somehow still managing to hold you when you couldn’t stop crying because your body was changing faster than you could handle, because you felt like a burden, because you were terrified.

You wanted to find a job too. You tried.

But no one wanted to hire a pregnant woman, not even when you were only two months along. 

You didn’t even look pregnant, not really but employers seemed to know, somehow. They’d glance at your belly, at your tired eyes, and find a reason to turn you away.

“We’ll call you,” they’d say. They never did.

It was unfair. You were competent, you had your high school diploma. You could work, you could help. but no one would let you.

Sunghoon told you it was okay. That you should rest. That you were doing enough by taking care of yourself and the babies.

But you saw the way he clenched his jaw when he checked his bank account. You saw the exhaustion in his eyes, the frustration he tried to hide.

One night, after a particularly long shift, he came home, threw his keys on the kitchen counter, and just… broke.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered, leaning against the wall, head in his hands. “I’m trying, but it’s not enough… it’s never enough.”

You’d never seen him like that before. Sunghoon was always calm, always steady, the one who grounded you when you felt like you were falling apart. 

But now he was the one unraveling, and you didn’t know how to help.

You went to him, kneeling beside him on the cold tile floor, and took his hands in yours “We’ll figure it out,” you whispered, echoing the words he’d once said to you. “We’ll find a way.”

He just shook his head. “I don’t want you to worry about this, you shouldn’t have to.”

“I already do,” you admitted, your voice soft but firm. “I worry every day, about you, about the babies, about what’s going to happen to us. But we’re in this together, Hoon, you’re not alone.”

And maybe that was what he needed to hear.

Because he pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your shoulder, and for the first time in a long time, you both let yourselves be scared.

And somehow, in the middle of all the fear and exhaustion, there were moments of happiness. 

Late-night talks in bed, Sunghoon’s hand resting on your belly, feeling the faintest flutter of movement. The way he looked at you, like you were the most precious thing in the world, even when you felt anything but.

It wasn’t the life you’d imagined. But it was a fresh start, and you were going to make it work.

⪩⪨.

The chemistry between you and Sunghoon didn’t die, not even with the exhaustion, the stress, or the growing weight of reality pressing down on you both.

If anything, it seemed to shift into something deeper, more intimate. 

Perhaps it was the hormones, or maybe it was the way Sunghoon looked at you— like you were made of glass and fire all at once. 

There were nights when you’d reach for him, despite everything, when your body burned with a desperate, aching need that you couldn’t ignore. 

It was embarrassing at first — how could you think about sex when there was so much to worry about? But Sunghoon never made you feel ashamed.

Even when he was exhausted, after long shifts at the convenience store and nights spent studying, if you whispered his name softly enough, he’d turn to you, his tired eyes softening, and touch you so gently it made you want to cry.

“You sure?” he’d ask, voice husky with sleep, his thumb tracing circles on your hip.

And when you nodded, needy and aching, he’d love you slowly, sweetly, like you were something precious. 

His hands, rough from work and cold from the night air, would warm against your skin, spreading goosebumps as they moved over your growing belly, your curves softening into something maternal and foreign to you both.

“I love you,” he’d whisper, over and over, like a promise.

And when it was over, he’d hold you, tracing patterns on your back until you fell asleep, his hand never leaving your stomach, like he needed to feel all three of you were still there.

Still his.

⪩⪨.

You hated feeling useless. No matter how many times Sunghoon told you to rest, to take care of yourself and the babies, the guilt sat heavy on your chest; a constant reminder that while he was out there working himself to the bone, you were at home, waiting.

So, you kept looking for a job.

And eventually, you found one.

It wasn’t much: a small corner café, tucked away in the older part of town. 

The owner, a kind older woman named Mrs. Park, had taken one look at you and seemed to understand without you having to say a word.

She didn’t ask about the pregnancy, didn’t ask why you were looking for work so urgently. She just handed you an apron and asked if you could start the next morning.

You said yes before she could change her mind.

The hours were short, just enough to bring home a small paycheck without overworking yourself. Between morning sickness, aching feet, and the constant hum of anxiety, you managed. 

The work kept your mind busy, and the extra money, small as it was, helped. anything to lighten the weight on Sunghoon’s shoulders.

The best part was the way his face lit up when you handled him your first paycheck, small and wrinkled from being folded into your pocket all day.

“You didn’t have to…” he whispered, holding the check like it was made of gold.

“I know,” you said, leaning up to kiss him softly. “But I wanted to.”

He didn’t say anything after that, just pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly enough that you felt the tremor in his hands.

Money was still tight.

You became an expert at stretching every dollar, buying second-hand things for the babies: clothes, a crib, even a stroller someone had listed online for half the price. 

You cleaned everything, scrubbed it down until it looked new, and though it wasn’t the Pinterest-perfect nursery you’d once dreamed of, but it was enough.

⪩⪨.

The fifth month of pregnancy crept up on you quietly, like the tide rolling in, soft and inevitable, until one day you looked in the mirror and saw someone entirely new. 

Your belly had grown, round and firm, stretched with the weight of the two tiny humans inside you. It was impossible to hide anymore.

You were blooming.

Despite the morning sickness that still lingered some days, and the exhaustion that settled into your bones like a permanent guest, there was something undeniably radiant about you now. 

Your skin glowed, cheeks flushed with a soft pink hue, and your hair became somehow shinier and thicker.

Even your eyes seemed brighter, though you chalk that up to getting more sleep now that you weren’t balancing school and work.

“Wow, pregnancy looks good on you,” Mrs. Park had said one morning at the café, handing you a fresh cup of chamomile tea instead of the coffee you so desperately wanted.

You had laughed, shaking your head, brushing flour off your apron. “I feel like a beached whale.”

“You look like a goddess,” she insisted, patting your arm gently before returning to the kitchen.

It wasn’t just her, either. Customers complimented you more often now, commenting on your “glow,” asking when you were due, if you knew the genders yet. 

Some people even touched your belly without asking, which drove you insane, but you bit your tongue and smiled through it, knowing they meant well.

Still, no amount of glowing or compliments could change the fact that you were tired. 

All the time.

Your body ached in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Your back throbbed almost constantly, the strain of carrying twins becoming more obvious with each passing week. 

Walking more than a few blocks left you breathless, and your feet… Lord, your feet.

They swelled like balloons by the end of every day, tight and aching, even when you sat down as much as possible at work.

You’d become clumsy, too. You knocked things over more than once at the café, sending cups crashing to the floor, apologizing profusely as you bent down (with great effort) to clean up the mess.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mrs. Park always said, shooing you away. “Go sit down for a minute. You’re carrying two humans, for heaven’s sake.”

When you got home from work, you always tried to clean the apartment before Sunghoon came back. 

It was small, but you wanted it to feel like a home, not just a temporary place you were stuck in. You’d make the bed, wipe down the tiny kitchen counters, and vacuum the living room—all while trying not to collapse from exhaustion.

Sometimes, you’d manage to cook dinner too, though more often than not, you just ordered something cheap and easy, feeling guilty but knowing you couldn’t push yourself too hard.

Sunghoon never complained.

When he came home, usually around sunset, the door would creak open, and you heard the familiar sound of his keys hitting the small bowl by the entrance.

“Babe?” he called, voice soft but tired.

“In here,” you answered from the couch, where you’d usually ended up, legs propped up on a pillow to help with the swelling.

He appeared in the doorway, still in his uniform from the convenience store, black slacks and a button-up shirt, a little wrinkled, smelling faintly of coffee and instant ramen. His hair tousled from the wind, dark eyes warm but weary.

Without fail, he smiled the moment he saw you.

“Hey,” he said, crossing the room to kneel beside you, pressing a kiss to your temple, then your belly. “How are my girls?”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile came anyway. “Or boys.”

“Or one of each,” he teased, hands gentle as they splayed over your bump, feeling for any kicks.

“How was work?”

He sighed, leaning his head against your shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment. “Long… some guy tried to shoplift again, i’m starting to think I should charge admission fees for all the chaos.”

You laughed softly, fingers brushing through his hair, knowing how much he hated that job but how hard he was trying to keep it for you, for the babies.

“I made dinner,” you said, though ‘made’ meant heating the leftovers you had in th fridge.

“Mhh,” he murmured, already half-asleep against you. “I’d rather eat you. Cheaper and more delicious.”

You smacked his head lightly “You’re almost collapsing, go eat, Hoon.”

“Alright,” he kissed your cheek and got up, moving towards the kitchen “But I’ll have you as a dessert!”

⪩⪨.

Nights were the hardest.

Your body ached more at night, your back screaming every time you tried to find a comfortable position in bed. 

You’d toss and turn, sometimes getting up to walk around the apartment because lying down just hurt too much.

Sunghoon always noticed, even when you tried to be quiet.

One night, around three in the morning, you were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking water and rubbing your lower back, when you heard him shuffle out of bed.

“Babe?” His voice was thick with sleep, hair sticking up in every direction.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Without a word, he walked over, stood behind you, and began to massage your shoulders, his thumbs pressing gently into the knots that seemed permanent these days.

“You don’t have to…”

“I want to,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

His hands were warm and firm, working down your back slowly, easing the tension until you melted against him, sighing softly.

“You okay?” he asked after a while, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you whispered, eyes closing as you leaned into his warmth. “Just… tired.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his hands never stopping their slow, comforting motion. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. “I feel like a whale.”

“You’re beautiful,” he insisted, his voice so sincere it made your throat tighten. “You’re carrying our babies, that’s… incredible.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to brush your lips against his. 

It was soft, warm, and lingering, a kiss that spoke of gratitude, of love, of something deeper than either of you had words for.

“Come back to bed,” he whispered.

And when you did, he wrapped himself around you, one arm under your belly, supporting its weight, the other tangled in your hair. His body was warm, steady, grounding.

You fell asleep like that, safe and held, and for a little while, all the worry, all the exhaustion, all the fear melted away.

⪩⪨.

By the seventh month, everything changed.

Your doctor had been gentle, but firm, when she sat you down after your check-up, her eyes soft with concern.

“I’m putting you on immediate bed rest,” she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. “Your body is straining too hard, and with twins, that’s dangerous, iknow you’ve been trying to push through, but if you keep this up, there’s a high risk of preterm labor —or worse.”

“Worse?” you had repeated, barely above a whisper.

The idea of something happening to your babies was too much to comprehend.

You felt your chest tighten, your hands instinctively cradling your belly as though you could protect them from the world with just that small gesture.

“I’ll give you a list of things you need like vitamins and supplements, carrying two is an enormous strain, and I want you and the babies safe.”

You hadn’t argued. You were too scared to argue.

You’d complied immediately, even though it meant using some of the money you and Sunghoon had saved for the babies. money that was supposed to go toward diapers, formula, a proper crib. 

Instead, you’d bought the prenatal vitamins your doctor insisted on, the ones you’d been avoiding because they were expensive and you thought you could get by without them.

When you told Sunghoon, he didn’t complain.

“We’ll figure it out,” he’d said that night, after helping you into bed, his hand warm and steady against your swollen belly. “You’re not going to worry about money right now, i’ll pick up more shifts.”

“But—”

“No.” his voice was gentle but firm, leaving no room for protest. “I mean it. I’ll handle it… for them.”

He always said ‘for them,’ and that was all it took to silence your guilt.

Even Mrs. Park, kind as ever, had understood. When you called to tell her you couldn’t come to work anymore, your voice shaking with apology, she stopped you before you could even finish.

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare apologize. You’re having twins! Focus on your health, and don’t be afraid to ask if you need anything.”

You’d cried after that call,not out of sadness, but out of gratitude.

A week into bed rest, you found out the genders.

The ultrasound revealed it clearly— one boy and one girl. You hadn’t realized how emotional you’d be until you saw their tiny forms on the screen, moving, kicking, their hearts beating strong and fast.

“They’re healthy,” the technician had said with a smile, pointing out their little hands, their spines, the curve of their heads.

In the cab ride home, you and Sunghoon sat in stunned, happy silence, hands clasped tightly together over your belly.

Later that night, lying in bed, you’d brought up names.

“I want their names to match,” you murmured, your head on Sunghoon’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, your own hands tracing the curve of your belly.

“Like… rhyme?” he asked, sounding a little amused, his fingers lazily playing with your hair, “Not rhyme, just… sound good together, you know?”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Okay, uhm, Do you like Yohan?”

You looked up at him, surprised. “Yohan?”

“Yeah. For the boy.” You let the name roll around in your mind, “I like it,” you whispered.

“And for the girl?” he asked, looking down at you, waiting.

You thought for a long moment. “Haneul.”

His lips curved into a soft smile. “Yohan and Haneul.”

“Yohan and Haneul,” you repeated, the names fitting together like puzzle pieces, like they were always meant to be spoken side by side.

“Perfect,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “They’re going to be perfect.”

Bed rest, however, was not perfect.

You knew it was necessary, you wanted to do everything in your power to keep your babies safe, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Sitting on the couch all day, only to move back to the bed or the kitchen chair, made you restless and bored out of your mind. 

You felt horrible, especially knowing Sunghoon was working harder than ever to keep everything together.

He had picked up more shifts at the convenience store, working late into the night, coming home exhausted but still smiling, still touching your belly and asking how “his little ones” were doing.

You tried to keep the apartment clean as best you could from your limited range like folding laundry from the couch, wiping down surfaces slowly, feeling winded even from that.

One evening, Sunghoon came home to find you trying to sweep the floor, your back screaming in protest, your belly making it hard to even bend slightly.

“What are you doing?” he asked, immediately taking the broom from your hands.

“…cleaning.”

“You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I can’t just sit around all day, Sunghoon.” You snapped, harsher than intended.

He sighed, setting the broom aside, and took your hands gently in his, guiding you to sit back on the couch.

“You’re growing two humans inside you,” he reminded you softly, kneeling in front of you, his hands warm against your knees. “That’s not useless, that’s… everything.”

You blinked, your throat tight, feeling tears threaten to spill over. 

Damn pregnancy hormones.

“I just… I hate seeing you do everything,” you whispered.

“I don’t mind,” he said, and you could tell he meant it. “I love you, I love them.”

You reached out, your fingers brushing through his hair, and he leaned into your touch like he always did, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment of peace.

“I’m so tired,” you admitted softly.

“I know,” he whispered, pressing a kiss t your belly. “I know, baby.”

⪩⪨.

The pain came fast and without warning.

One moment, you were shifting uncomfortably on the couch, rubbing circles over your swollen belly, trying to ease the dull ache in your back.

The next, a sharp, unbearable pressure shot through you, like your entire body was twisting in on itself.

You gasped, hands flying to your stomach. 

The next contraction came even harder, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your vision blurred as panic set in.

Your phone. Where was your phone?

With trembling hands, you fumbled around the couch cushions until you found it, barely able to press the call button before another wave of pain wracked through you. 

The dial tone rang endlessly in your ears before Sunghoon’s voice finally cut through.

“Hey, baby, what’s—”

“Sunghoon,” you choked out, voice shaking. “It’s happening.”

Silence.  “What?”

“The babies—” You couldn’t even get the words out properly. 

You were panting, your whole body trembling, the pain stretching and pulling in ways that made you want to scream. “You need to come home, please.”

“I’m on my way,” he said immediately, his voice tight. 

You could hear the sound of his chair scraping back, the muffled voices of his classmates as he grabbed his things in a rush. “Stay on the phone with me, are you in pain?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as another contraction hit.

“Baby, you need to breathe,” he said, his voice urgent but gentle. “In through your nose, out through your mouth, you remember what the doctor said, right? Just focus on that until I get there.”

You tried. You really did. But the pain was overwhelming, and all you could do was grip the armrest of the couch, gasping through each agonizing wave. 

Minutes stretched into eternity before you finally heard the sound of the front door slamming open.

“Y/N?” Sunghoon’s voice was frantic as he rushed to your side, immediately crouching down in front of you. 

His hands found your face, your belly, anywhere he could touch to ground you.

“I can’t—” You broke off, biting back a sob. “It hurts, Sunghoon.”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his own breath shaky. “But we need to go, okay? Can you stand?”

You nodded weakly, though your legs felt like jelly. Sunghoon slipped an arm around your waist, practically lifting you off the couch as he guided you toward the door. 

Each step sent another sharp wave of pain through you, and by the time you reached the car, you were sobbing into his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he kept whispering. “I’ve got you,.”

The drive to the hospital was a blur of pain and panic. 

Sunghoon gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, running every red light, ignoring every honk and shout from passing cars. Every few seconds, he’d glance over at you, his face lined with worry.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he kept saying, even when you were barely holding yourself together. “We’re almost there. Just hold on for me, okay?”

When you finally arrived, nurses swarmed around you, wheeling you through the halls while Sunghoon ran beside the gurney, his hand never leaving yours.

“She’s having twins,” he told them, his voice strained. “She’s in labour, please, you have to help her.”

They nodded, moving quickly, and before you knew it, you were in a hospital bed, strapped to monitors, IVs in your arm, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling your nose. 

The contractions were coming faster now, sharper, stronger, making your whole body arch off the bed in pain.

“It hurts,” you sobbed, gripping Sunghoon’s hand so tight you were sure you’d break his fingers.

“I’m sorry, baby” he whispered, pressing frantic kisses to your damp forehead. “You”re doing great.”

The doctor came in moments later, her face grave. “You’re not dilating fast enough,” she said. “And with twins, we can’t risk waiting, ae need to perform a C-section.”

Your heart stopped.

“No,” you gasped, shaking your head. “I— I don’t want—”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon whispered, his forehead pressed against yours. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I don’t want to be cut open,” you sobbed. “Sunghoon, please—”

His hands cradled your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “I know, I know,” he murmured, his voice shaking. “But we have to do what’s best for them, okay? I promise I’ll be right there the whole time.”

You searched his eyes desperately, finding nothing but love, worry, and unwavering determination.

You nodded, swallowing down your fear.

They prepped you quickly, the spinal anesthesia numbing you from the waist down, but the fear still clawed at your chest.

Sunghoon was right beside you, wearing scrubs over his clothes, his hand gripping yours tightly.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

You barely felt it when they made the incision, but you felt the pressure, the pulling, the strange sensation of something being moved inside you.

And then—

A cry. Loud and strong.

Your heart clenched as they lifted Yohan into the air, his tiny fists flailing, his lungs filled with life.

“A boy,” the doctor said, smiling. “A very strong little boy.”

Tears blurred your vision as you watched the nurse wrap him in a blanket. He was perfect. Tiny, but perfect.

But then—something was wrong.

Haneul wasn’t crying.

Your breath hitched. You turned to Sunghoon, his face pale with fear.

“Why isn’t she crying?” you asked, panic creeping into your voice.

The doctor was already working, her expression serious as she cleared her airway, checked her vitals.

Seconds stretched into eternity before… A weak, but definite, wail.

Your entire body sagged with relief.

“She’s small,” the doctor said. “She needs monitoring, but she’s here.”

“She’s here,” Sunghoon echoed, his voice breaking.

By the time they stitched you up and wheeled you to recovery, it was just the four of you.

You were exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open, but you watched as Sunghoon cradled Yohan in his arms, his eyes filled with pure love.

“She looks like you,” he whispered, glancing at Haneul, who was wrapped up in a tiny incubator beside your bed.

You let out a weak laugh. “She looks like you, too.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he murmured. “Thank you for giving me them.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you reached for his hand, squeezing weakly.

“I would have never made it without you,” you whispered.

⪩⪨.

The first few days were harder than anything you could have imagined.

Your body was broken, stitched together but still aching, bruised, raw. 

Every movement sent sharp, burning pain through your abdomen, making even the simplest tasks feel impossible. And yet, you had no choice, there were two tiny humans depending on you.

Two.

The weight of it was crushing. You were a mother now, not just to one baby, but two. Yohan and Haneul. 

They were small, fragile, barely able to hold up their own heads, and they needed you every second of the day.

But you were exhausted. 

Completely, utterly drained.

The moment you stepped foot into the small apartment, holding Haneul while Sunghoon carried Yohan in his arms, you felt the overwhelming urge to collapse onto the bed and sleep for days.

Except you couldn’t.

Because the twins were already stirring, their tiny mouths opening and closing, their bodies wriggling in search of warmth and nourishment.

You barely had time to lower yourself onto the couch before the wailing started. 

First Haneul, her tiny lungs stronger than you would’ve expected for how fragile she looked. Then Yohan, following his sister’s lead as if he had to compete for who could cry the loudest.

“Oh my God,” you groaned, pressing a hand over your face. “How are they so loud?”

Sunghoon, looking just as exhausted, stared down at Yohan with wide eyes. “Do we… do we rock them?”

“No, let’s just leave them to cry themselves to sleep,” you deadpanned.

Sunghoon shot you a look. “Alright, alright, picking them up now.”

He rocked Yohan awkwardly, bouncing him slightly, but the baby only cried harder.

You tried to do the same with Haneul, wincing as you shifted to hold her properly against your chest. Your stitches screamed in protest, and you had to bite back a whimper of pain.

“Shh, baby,” you whispered, rubbing her tiny back. “Please, just a few minutes of peace.”

Breastfeeding had been one of the most painful surprises of motherhood.

 You had read about it, heard stories, but nothing prepared you for the sheer agony of tiny mouths latching onto already sore and swollen breasts.

Haneul latched on first, her tiny hands pressing against your skin. Yohan squirmed in Sunghoon’s arms, waiting for his turn impatiently.

“God, they eat like they haven’t been fed in years,” Sunghoon muttered, sitting beside you.

You snorted, adjusting Haneul in your arms as she sucked greedily. The pain was unbearable at first, but after a while, you barely noticed it, you were too tired to care.

Once she was done, you carefully passed her to Sunghoon, who traded her for Yohan.

Yohan latched on immediately, his tiny fingers curling into your skin.

Sunghoon stared at the two of you, his eyes soft. “You’re amazing, you know?”

You huffed. “Tell me that when I don’t feel like a cow being milked.”

He chuckled, gently rocking Haneul in his arms. “I mean it, you just gave birth a few days ago, and you’re already handling both of them.”

You wanted to tell him you weren’t handling anything. That you were barely holding yourself together, that you felt like crying every second of the day. But you just leaned against him, exhaling slowly.

“We’re trying,” you murmured.

“We’re a family.” he retorted.

The days blurred into an exhausting, sleepless cycle: Feed. Change diapers. Cry. Repeat.

Bathing them was a whole new challenge.

“We don’t even have a tub,” you groaned, staring at the two tiny and stinky babies.

Sunghoon scratched the back of his neck. “We could… fill the sink?”

You stared at him. “You want to bathe our newborn babies in the kitchen sink?”

He lifted his hands defensively. “It’s clean! And small enough for them.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Fine, Just don’t drop them.”

Sunghoon grinned. “I would never.”

Ten minutes later, he almost dropped Yohan.

“Sunghoon!” you yelped, catching the baby before he could slip further into the water.“I had him!” Sunghoon insisted, looking guilty.

“You did not have him.”

He cleared his throat, adjusting his hold on Yohan. “Maybe this is a two-person job.”

“No shit.”

Together, you managed to get both babies cleaned, even if it was a messy, wet, and chaotic experience.

By the time they were wrapped in towels and back in your arms, you felt ready to pass out.

Sunghoon flopped onto the couch beside you, letting out a heavy sigh. “I think we deserve a medal for that.”

“You deserve a lecture,” you muttered. “Honestly, I don’t know if I should trust you with our children.”

He pouted. “That hurts, babe.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned against him anyway, watching as Yohan and Haneul drifted off to sleep in your arms.

Sunghoon kissed your temple, his voice softer this time. “We’ll get better at this.”

“We have to,” you said. “They depend on us.”

“And we depend on each other.” He squeezed your hand. “We’re in this together, baby. Always.”

Always.

⪩⪨.

The twins were finally asleep.

You exhaled a deep, shaky breath as you slumped onto the couch, every muscle in your body aching from exhaustion. It had taken forever to get them down, rocking, shushing, feeding, changing diapers, starting over again when one cried and the other followed. But now, for a few precious hours, there was silence.

Sunghoon collapsed beside you, his head tilting back against the cushions. He let out a low groan, rubbing a hand down his face. “Holy shit, that was brutal.”

You huffed out a weak laugh. “I thought we were gonna die.”

He turned his head to look at you, smiling softly. “We can’t possibly be defeated by two itty bitty humans.”

You let your head fall against his shoulder, your eyes closing for a moment.

Your body reminded you of the pain you were still inn with a dull, persistent ache in your abdomen.

Sunghoon felt your wince before you even said anything. He shifted, glancing down at you with concern. “You okay?”

You swallowed, opening your eyes. “Scar still hurts.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and without a word, he helped you sit up.

“Let’s take care of it,” he said. “Come on.”

The apartment was small, barely enough for the two of you before the twins arrived. Now, it felt even smaller, cluttered with diapers, bottles, and tiny clothes drying on a rack in the corner.

But somehow, Sunghoon still made it feel like home.

He guided you to the bathroom, his hands careful and steady as he helped you undress.

You hesitated when your shirt lifted, revealing the healing incision across your lower abdomen. The skin was still angry and red, the stitches tight. It wasn’t pretty.

Sunghoon didn’t even blink. He just crouched down, his fingertips ghosting over the area as if touching too hard might hurt you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not,” he said, his voice firm. He kissed just above the scar, lingering for a moment before looking up at you. “This is proof of how strong you are, I love it, I love you.”

You felt something in your chest tighten, an unexpected warmth spreading through you.

“Stop making me emotional,” you muttered, blinking back tears.

He grinned, standing up again. “Can’t help it. Now come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Sunghoon washed your hair, fingers massaging your scalp with a tenderness that nearly made you melt. He was careful around your scar, using light touches to clean the area before wrapping you in a warm towel.

You felt better when you stepped out. Not great, not healed, but better.

He sat you down on the closed toilet seat, kneeling in front of you to apply the ointment the doctor had given you. His hands were warm, his touch featherlight.

“Still hurts?” he asked softly.

“A little,” you admitted. “But it’s better when you do it.”

His lips quirked up. “Guess I’ve got the magic touch.”

Once he finished, he helped you into a fresh set of pajamas, sighing when he noticed the stains on your old shirt.

“Your boobs are leaking again.”

You groaned, rubbing at your eyes. “I know… I feel like a damn cow.”

Sunghoon chuckled, helping you put on a fresh nursing bra before tugging a clean shirt over your head. “You’re not a cow, you’re an amazing mom.”

You gave him a look. “An amazing cow mom.”

He pinched your side gently, making you squeak. “Shut up and get in bed.”

You let him guide you back to the bedroom, sighing as you sank into the sheets. He pulled the blankets up to your chin, tucking you in like you were the fragile one, not the twins sleeping soundly in their shared bassinet.

Sunghoon sat beside you for a moment, brushing your hair back from your face.

“You should get some sleep,” he murmured.

You blinked at him,realizing why he hadn’t changed into his pyjamas snd wasn’t under the covers with you “You need to get ready for work.”

“I’ll leave in a bit,” he said, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Just wanna make sure you’re okay first.”

You reached up, curling your fingers around his wrist. “I don’t want you to go.”

His expression softened. “I know, baby. But we need the money.”

You sighed, closing your eyes. “I hate this.”

“I do too.” He ran his thumb over your cheek. “But we’ll get through it.”

You wanted to believe him. You really did.

But when exhaustion pulled you under, all you could think about was how hard everything was. How much you missed just being you and him.

How much you missed having him next to you, instead of leaving every night to work while you lay awake, waiting for the next time the twins would cry.

Sunghoon stayed until your breathing evened out, pressing one last kiss to your cheek before slipping away to get ready for work.

Even if he hated leaving, he had to. For you. For Yohan and Haneul.

For the life you had built together, not perfect, but beautiful.

[celtrist]

*sigh* I feel a lil obligated to share this vid considering past ramblings. And I understand shippers of any aroace characters are VERY tired of the conversation, I get that and you should be free to have fun with the characters as you see fit. But there is a conversation I think both sides just never wanna get into. And I highly recommend EVERYONE, EVEN PEOPLE WHO ENJOY SHIPPING AND IDENTIFY AS ARO/ACE, to give this vid a watch. Like damn, the shit about Gwenpool was SO disheartening to hear.

It's never been the shipping itself that's the issue, it's the pushback against the aroace identity.

Just as a reminder, I (nor the video) are against shipping or spectrums and all that. There is just immense invisibility on the core parts of the aroace identity when it comes to popular characters, and (to me) the spectrum comment typically doesn't sound genuine but more of a hopeful defense that a character isn't aroace (from what I've seen). It always reads more like they're grasping as to have their favorite ship become valid or possible within the media the character is in. That's obviously not the case for EVERYONE and genuine-ness is difficult to read in text form, but that just happens to be how it typically seems to me when people make the spectrum case. And I think if having something like shipweeks is important, something like aroace weeks should be celebrated too! And they definitely exist! They're just severely ignored when compared to something like ship weeks.

The overabundance of shipping aroace characters can kinda feel like if, say, the most popular ships/ships that are everywhere in a fandom involve a gay character in straight relationships. By itself it is genuinely harmless. But there is a sort of underlying tone of being against that character being gay, even if not intentional. Everyone should be allowed to have their fun shipping characters however they like, no matter their orientation because they're not real. But there's an undeniable trend that if a character is popular, Their aroace identity will be challenged, ignored, or pushed back. Which doesn't really feel great (personally, not everyone is me and I don't speak for all).

Might I reiterate from my previous post on the subject:

The aro community is allowed the scraps but not the dinner.

[heeheeswifey]

this is a bop I love chase atlantic thsi is literally my fav song AJSHDHJWJDJ

[abandoned-dezxyre]

We just realized just how manipulative "please and thank you", all one phrase, really is. And it really hurts the validity and use of "thank you" on its own in the process.

Thanking someone for doing something before they do it compells people to do the thing because they've already gotten the reward. Reward = must do thing. Which can cause "thank you" to get twisted around in your mind if you grew up with it, causing you to hear it and associate it with being told to do something, rather than being rewarded for finishing the thing. "Thank you" becomes a command instead of a show of gratitude. Which can also cause people to experience (we forgot the name of it but it's that effect where if someone tells you to do something you already wanted to do, you no longer want to do it), and can over time harm people even more.

So yeah, we're gonna start separating our "please"s and "thank you"s

[tilltheworldblowsup]

When you get this respond with five things that make you happy!!! Then send to the last ten people you got notifications from

1. Music!! Any type of music, at full volume, surrounding me.

2. Books - especially murder mysteries or thrillers.

3. Studying - I love organising notes, learning and feeling in control when I’m taking a exam!

4. Just being around people I care about.

5. Performing - dance, singing, anything where I’m on stage and having fun!

[heeheeswifey]

this is real art

i’m BEGGING for more thoughts on stepbro jay … losing my mind over how soft u wrote him im obsessed (only if u want to tho !!)

⚠︎ smut. mdni. step-cest. soft dom jay, just some eating out through panties. also this got a bit longer than intended so i cut it short at the end but i do plan on eventually actually writing this as a longer work nonnie!! sorry for letting this sit in my inbox for so long pls

jay's touch is gentle as always, as his hand slides down the expanse of your back, goosebumps littering your skin in its wake.

you feel so incredibly silly for ever doubting jay's devotion and feelings for you now that you can get a close look at just how bright his eyes sparkle with adoration for you.

truth be told, it's not entirely on you. you devised a plan that backfired completely, yes. but jay just wants you to be happy and content, even if the man next to you isn't him (he also knows how a relationship like yours would be seen by outsiders, so he's happy to just be in your life at all)

so he put on his most convincing smile when you asked him to bring you along to hang out with his friends. took slow breaths to calm his heart down when he saw how gorgeous you looked when you told him you were ready, far too beautiful for a simple night with the boys.

he also hid the way his nails drew blood from his palm whenever you spent too much time talking to one of the guys, tried his best to ignore how your touch lingered on their shoulders and how their eyes undressed you right in front of him.

so imagine his surprise when at the end of the night you run out of his car, tears welling in your eyes, without ever looking back at him.

"aren't you the prettiest girl ever, my dove?" jay's voice is muffled as he presses kisses down your torso, his tongue darting out a few times to taste the saltiness of your skin. "so lovely too, putting on that show to make me jealous. and here i am, thinking you just wanted to fuck my friends after i helped you get off last time. i'm very dumb, aren't i?"

his lips reach your panties, a cute baby blue pair you picked out for him, that peeked out from time to time because of how short your dress was. his thumb hooks under the fabric, and just when you think he's gonna take them off, you feel them slap against your skin again. the sting is barely there, just enough to have you mewl as you arch your back into your step brother's touch, but it doesn't hurt. jay would never hurt you.

"easy, little dove. i watched you dance around the house all night, watched my friends strain to get a peek under your dress. but you just wanted to tease me, mhh? did you want to make me jealous? did your little dove brain think i would fuck you silly after this little stunt?"

"yes! please jay, i need you," your voice breaks slightly, and you can feel the smile forming against the flesh of your thigh. jay loves you like this. you're always cute, but you're so much cuter when you're needy and desperate for him.

"you got one thing right, baby. but not today." he whispers, his eyes locking on yours as he lets a glob of spit dribble right onto the core of your ruined panties, as if you needed any more wetness there. he bends down, never breaking eye contact with you to watch your reactions, and licks his own spit to spread it around the fabric covering your poor needy hole. "you're too fragile, but i'll slowly teach you how to take it. don't you want that?"

you nod desperately, gulping down as jay's careful touch spreads your legs so he can get more comfortable between them. "please, take them off?"

he looks up at you, fake confused at your question. "but why? you chose these for me? shouldn't i get to enjoy them fully?"