#daily needs home delivery

[life-of-eris]

I just did some quick math and the motherfuckers I work for pay me literally exactly enough so that I don't qualify for medicaid. Bastards.

[24seven987]

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[astrxealis]

OH MY FUCKING GOD I AM. very happy. my speech i had to give that i crammed on bcs i was really anxious about even just thinking it and i had to deliver it memorized and in front of the whole class for the first time in years? i only got. minus 1.25

[jaehunnyy]

Ateez and the things they do for you while on tour

Genre: established relationship, floof—lots of it, crack-ish?

Word count: 1.9k

Pairing: idols!Ateez x gn!reader

Warnings: pet names (+ reader calling Mingi princess), possible grammar mistakes

Taglist: @shakalakaboomboo, @pocketjoong-reads, @nebulousbrainsoup, @justhere4kpop, @bluehwale, @bluisheye93, @ssaboala, @i-luvsang, @ad0rechuu

Networks: @cromernet 🤍

Hongjoong - falling asleep on face-time

☆ Hongjoong keeps track of every single difference between his and your timezone, having it as a daily reminder on the world clock.

☆ It doesn't matter how tired he is after performing and melting million hearts;

☆ He could never be too tired for his love.

☆ Calls you when he's on his way to the hotel room if it's at a suitable hour;

☆ If not, he would settle for napping for a bit and set an alarm so he can call you at a reasonable time.

☆ Loves having your voice playing in the background for whenever sleep gets too hard to fight against (and if you start talking about your day, it's simply music for his ears).

☆ Smiles contentedly, even in his sleep, when you tell him how proud you are and how much you love and miss him.

☆ "You shined today too, baby. I am so, so, proud of you, and I hope you know that."

☆ Even when he's drowsy—droopy eyes, mouth slightly open, almost slipping into the dreams' world, he would never be too tired to mouth an "I love you too, love; thanks for being by my side,"—might come off as a mumble, but the intention is there.

☆ And that's the tutorial on how to make your sleepy Joong happy. :)

Seonghwa - buying souvenirs

☆ Seonghwa would buy the whole shop for you if he could. 

☆ Not that he didn't want to, but Yeosang—his shopping companion, didn't allow that to happen. 

☆ Whenever he sees a cute object, be it little or big, his eyes gather the whole universe in them, an excited smile creeping on his face, as the only thing he can say is "Y/n! :D" 

☆ Magnets? "These would look amazing on their fridge!" 

☆ Clothes? "I remember they said they needed a new cardigan." 

☆ Plushies? "Y/n's shelves have been pretty empty lately, these would look great in there :D." 

☆ And who are you to burst his bubble? It's not like you didn't try to tell him that he should tone it down; but he didn't even bother to listen to you, stuffing more and more into his luggage for when he comes home to show you. 

☆ When unboxing, he would just smile and proceed to take more out of his suitcase. 

☆ "Honey, you don't need to spend so much money on me…" You say, looking at the suitcase he claimed was filled with only souvenirs. 

☆ "Can you blame me, starlight? Let me spoil you." He smiles, settling himself on the floor as he keeps on unpacking, making you accept your fate and smile as well.

Yunho - sending you dancing videos

☆ This man is all but leaving you alone—not that you're complaining or anything. 

☆ He would send you videos of him practicing every single hour, maybe call you too, just to show (and maybe flex) his fantastic dancing skills. 

☆ Sometimes, he would even call you and ask you to learn something together—he just loves to see you dance with him, okay? 

☆ Always asks for your opinion first, on every cover he wants to post. 

☆ "I think that's good enough to post, Yun—" Wooyoung would try to say, but his friend would brush him off quickly. 

☆ "Let me ask Y/n first! :D" 

☆ The moment the warmth of your praises engulfs him—he becomes a malfunctional boy; smiling from ear to ear, continuously staring at your texts, making everyone around him ask him if he is okay, if he needs to see a doctor or something (it's just his friends being the teases they are)—yet he wouldn't care, he is in love <3. 

☆ "Of course it's amazing, Yuyu. You're doing amazing everytime <333." 

☆ He would melt into a puddle. 

☆ "No words can explain how thankful I am for you, my darling." 

Yeosang - delivering sweet nothings

☆ Yeosang would send special deliveries for his significant other.

☆ He has to make sure his baby is being well taken care of even when he's away, doesn't he?

☆ If you randomly get up due to the sound of your doorbell—know that Yeo planned something; again.

☆ Sometimes it's fresh food from your favorite restaurant; sometimes flowers bouquets.

☆ Sometimes, even your favorite hoodie of his—to remind you of him, and his scent.

☆ He would be sneaky and innocent about it too—he would never admit it's him (he would, you just have to be cute enough for it).

☆ "Yeoooo, the flowers you sent yesterday are still there! Where am I supposed to place these ones?"

☆ "What flowers, sweets? I didn't send you anything though?" The lie would slip through his lips, soon curling into a mischievous smile.

☆ Secretly—he enjoys it way too much—seeing how happy you are after the warm meal, how you couldn't stop smelling the flowers he chose for you.

☆ He loved you so much and he had to prove it somehow, even if he was miles away from you.

San - hugging his phone while face-timing

☆ San loves physical attention; he craves it—a lot.

☆ And though there's no way you can give it to him, he finds one, 'cause he's your smart boyfriend.

☆ He came up with the sudden idea of you hugging your phones at the same time, as silly as that might sound.

☆ Hugging the devices to your chests was giving him enormous comfort—not so much of a physical one, but one for the heart, at least.

☆ At first, you didn't expect him to want this to be a regular thing, you thought he would do it one time and then forget about it—or simply leave it aside.

☆ No. Your boyfriend started doing that every single call.

☆ "Y/nnnnn, do you feel it? The warmth?" He asks, his eyes shaped into little crescent moons, while the joy would dig little dimples into his cheeks.

☆ "Sannie… all I feel is how hot my phone got after three hours of continuously face-timing you," you say, looking at his pout through the screen.

☆ "Can you at least pretend? It's the only thing that unites us right now, so please pretend it's me you're hugging, sweets."

☆ With time, you came to understand what he was talking about—it felt nice to imagine him cuddled into your arms, counting the days and hoping they would pass faster and give you your boyfriend back.

Mingi - sending you voice texts

☆ Mingi would send you cute voice texts, and expects you to answer in the same manner.

☆ He would send one right after he woke up, the hoarseness of his voice echoing through your ears and making you giggle.

☆ Would also send you lots of them when he reaches the comfort of his hotel bed, telling you about his day and waiting for you to call, for the live experience.

☆ Sometimes, he would send some in the middle of the day, and when you play them, you're met with the beauty of his singing voice, playing one of the songs he had written, just for you.

☆ Along with comfort, they would usually make tears prickle at the corner of your eyes—because you miss him, and because the depth of the lyrics makes you want to give him the biggest hug ever.

☆ Mingi would also send you vocal texts of him silly laughing at random jokes, or funny videos, claiming that he doesn't want you to forget his laugh (don't forget he wants to hear yours too).

☆ And hearing him laugh would automatically make you cackle too, recording it just in time.

☆ "Princess? If I had a superpower, I wish I could teleport," you said, sending the short voice message to him.

☆ "And why is that, sweetheart?" He asks, in the same manner.

☆ "So I can come there and give you the biggest hug ever," and that was enough to make him melt and think about how much he loves you.

Wooyoung - recording daily vlogs

☆ Wooyoung would be recording silly little vlogs for you at every single step.

☆ No one and nothing could hold him back from turning his camera on selfie mode and pressing the rec button (but also, no one can stop him when he's about to fall 'cause he doesn't see where he steps).

☆ As soon as he gets into his hotel room, he will start making the room tour for you, explaining every detail he notices about it.

☆ Sometimes, he would trick some staff members into showing him the stage outfits beforehand, just for you to wake up with an outfit check vlog made by your boyfriend, exclusively.

☆ He could be anywhere—restaurant, preparing to eat; backstage, preparing to go on stage, or simply walking around the city—it wouldn't matter, his hand is always able to hold a camera or at least his phone.

☆ Oh, and don't you dare interrupt him—he gave San the nastiest look when he called Woo for game night.

☆ "I'm recording my daily vlog for Y/n, can't you see, San? When did you become so heartless?" He asked, hand holding his heart as San raised his arms, defeated.

☆ "Sorry, angel. San is bothering me. Back to you now! :D"

☆ If you could ever make time to send him one of your own daily vlogs too, he would be the happiest man; saving it and staring at it all along, like a lucky charm.

☆ "I decided I should send you a daily vlog from work too, can't let my pookie forget my face and voice," you said, and his lips stretched into the widest smile.

Jongho - singing lullabies for you

☆ Jongho's honey-like voice would melt into another lullaby you asked him for, despite the late hour you were talking at.

☆ You missed your boyfriend's presence—his beautiful gummy smile whenever you told him you loved him, his hugs, everything about him.

☆ And, last but not least, you missed his voice.

☆ You found it hard to sleep without him talking to you, or without hearing him practice another melodious ballad again—and you craved it.

☆ And it seemed like he missed doing these acts of service for you as well;

☆ 'Cause, the second you told him that you wanted to hear him, he didn't hesitate to immediately call you and start to sing another soulful song for you, smiling whenever you complimented him.

☆ His passion was something great to watch too—from the way his eyelashes would stroke his skin whenever he closed his eyes, the way his mouth opened whenever he hits any high notes, to the confidence on his face.

☆ You could swear that your admiration for him painted his cheeks into a crimson blush, yet he couldn't complain, he was proud to have you by his side.

☆ "Can you sing the chorus one more time, please? I don't want it to end before I fall asleep." You asked, looking at him before closing your eyes in order to fall asleep while he was still singing for you.

☆ He let a soft smile appear on his face, singing for you once again and only stopping when you finally fell asleep, whispering a sweet "Good night, sunshine."

[asteroshearts]

My Type

Oh no! Nanami's wife is just Itadori's type!

Or the story of how, upon meeting Nanami's wife, Itadori just can't take his eyes off her.

Nanami x Reader

Tags: this story was referenced here, but can be read completely alone, she/her pronouns, discussions of body types, Itadori's a bit of a pervert here (but he doesn't actually see anything!! Nanami, however, ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)), typical anime flashing

Hey Ken: How are you feeling?

You: Like shit My fever got worse after you left

Hey Ken: I'll be home soon. Please take ibuprofen, drink lots of water, and rest as much as you can. I'm finishing up now.

You: I just checked our cabinet We ran out of Bufferin UGHHHH I feel terrible I fucking told Daiki from accounting that he should go home if he was coughing but he said it was fine AND COUGHED IN MY FACE And now look at me

Hey Ken: We're out? I'll pick some up on my way home while I grab our other groceries. Please wait for me until then. Take a nap if you can. You're just going to get more exhausted thinking of the idiots in your office.

You: I looked online, delivery is going to take over an hour I'm getting dizzier I don't want to wait I'm going to go to the Matsukiyo near us to get it myself

Hey Ken: What?

Hey Ken: Don't go. I'll pick it up.

Hey Ken: Darling. Read my messages.

Hey Ken: Pick up the phone.

(10) Missed Calls

Several moments ago…

Itadori already thought that today got off to a weird start.

To begin with, it wasn't Ijichi in the driver's seat to pick him up today, but Nanamin. It also wasn't the Jujutsu Tech standard vehicle, but a nice, sleek, and expensive Porsche.

"W-Woah! Nanamin!" Itadori called then. Eyes wide and bright at the polished paint that glistened in the heavy sunlight. "Nice ride!" he said giddily, running his fingers across the aerodynamic doors. Popping his head up toward Nanami's window, he said, "This must've cost you a fortune!" And he thought that Gojo-sensei spent crazily.

"It was a gift," Nanami flatly said. The boy gaped at him like a fish. But who would just give away a car like this? They had to be really close — or maybe he had saved some rich guy and he thanked Nanamin by giving him a brand new car! The boy's eyes shone. Maybe one day he could get a nice gift like — "Get in." The doors unlocked.

"Hiya, Ijichi-san! Must be nice not driving for once, huh?" While marveling at the car's clean interior, he hopped into the back seat, feeling the leather under his hands and the cool blast of the AC hit his sweaty hair after being in the summer sun.

"Good morning, Itadori-kun," the dark-haired man said with a nervous smile. The car rumbled beneath them as Nanami turned the engine back on. "Nanami-san is surely giving me a nice change of pace — "

"Our duties will not change," Nanami stated, turning the wheel. "Ijichi-san is still required to do his job, as well as you, Itadori-kun. Don't get distracted." The pink-haired boy pouted in the backseat. "It just so happens that I have urgent errands to run after this, so time is of the essence."

Turning into an alleyway, Nanami smoothly hit the brakes and put the car into park. "Let's go."

Luckily for him, the curse was a low-level one mostly used for teaching Itadori the ropes, and the two of them managed to exorcise it in record time. For someone who was just thrust into the world of curses several weeks ago, he was doing well. As well as anyone could in his situation.

The boy was still a bumbling newbie, but he had a good head on his shoulders and was a strong opponent for most curses that they dealt with on a daily basis. Lips twitching into a frown, the blond thought that if Gojo didn't poison the youth's mind, surely Yuji would continue having a nice and mature head on his shoulders.

Nanami had to drop Ijichi off at his next assignment, but other than that, all he needed was to drop Itadori off at the college and then he could return to his sick wife. Paperwork still needed to be done, but luckily he could finish that at a later time. Unfortunately, last night you had a major headache and showed signs of an upcoming sickness this morning.

He had just barely convinced you to not do remote work and just take the day off to rest instead. However, as he checked on his messages with you, he found out that you were insisting on double — no, triple mask to go to the pharmacy yourself. All while you had a 37.5-degree fever.

He tried to call you once, thrice, and all of them were left for voicemail.

Cursing inwardly, Nanami leaned his head back on the headrest. Normally, the blond man was the arbiter of restraint and level-headed thinking, but all of that went out the door at the mere thought of his sickly wife dragging herself out in the street to get some medication. Why did you have to be so stubborn?

"My apologies, Itadori-kun." Nanami pushed up his glasses. "I need to take a detour before I drop you off at your dorm. I apologize for the inconvenience."

The boy blinked owlishly. "Oh that's alri — GH!"

Without another word, Nanami quickly turned left, jolting the teen to the side from the momentum, increasing the speed of his vehicle, and raced down the streets.

Within five minutes, Itadori felt like a dog left in the car as his "owner" raced into the nearest grocery store to grab medication, vegetables, and grains for the upcoming, proverbial storm. Even as the cashier tried their hardest to ignore the intense stare of the tall blond man before them, every second that ticked by as they scanned his purchase felt like hours.

As soon as he nearly threw his money on the tray and took all of the grocery bags under his toned arms, Nanami was off again, shifting into drive and ignoring the speed limit all the way back home.

Nanami could've nearly run into his apartment's chain-link garage doors if it had lifted any slower, allowing him access to his own underground parking before he landed in his designated parking spot within three seconds.

Racing out the car, he took all of the grocery bags over one muscular arm and was prepared to run off until he remembered he had a teen in the backseat.

"Itadori-kun," he said hurriedly. "Can you — " The man stopped himself short.

He originally planned to tell the boy to wait for him in the car, but caught sight of the boy's skin gleaming with sweat, reflecting one of the garage's low lights. Summer was brutal right now, with insane humidity that made Itadori's hair damp as if he had just taken a dunk in water. Even though the parking garage was cooler than it was outside, it was still unbearably hot, not to mention cruel, if he had forced the teen to just sit here and deal with it. Itadori had already waited in the hot car when he went out to grab groceries, and although he rolled the windows down, suddenly Nanami remembered all of the articles of puppies and toddlers dying in the back of cars during the summer.

Sighing, the man pushed his glasses up. "Behave yourself. Come with me."

"Ken?" Eyes wide, you held the door open. Keys were lifted up in the air in the man's hands, but you had beat him to the chase and opened the door before he managed to get the key in the keyhole. "Oh! I didn't know that you were bringing a guest." Stepping back quickly, you realized another person was standing behind your husband. "If I had known, I would've worn a surgeon mask!" Alert, you said. "Hold on, I'll go grab one right now — !"

"No need. We'll make this fast." He was about to take a step forward, but then realized that the student hadn't moved an inch ever since you opened the door. "Itadori-kun?"

As still as a statue, pink slowly rose from the boy's neck all the way up to the tips of his ears. He couldn't rip his gaze from you for even a second. Although your hair wasn't done and your face was covered, he could tell just how beautiful you were.

Furthermore, you looked just like the pin-up models he had in his room — you were just his type! Your little chemise barely ended at the middle of your thigh, and although everything important was covered up, it left little to the imagination with how the fabric hugged your waist and hips. As you held the door open for them and leaned forward, the loose triangle top of your nightgown was teasing him with the exposed curves and valleys of your chest.

You were too hot!

"Itadori-kun," Nanami repeated, irritated.

Way too hot for Nanamin!

"Nanamin! You didn't tell me that you were married!" Eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets, Itadori almost thought they had gotten the wrong apartment when you had just opened the door. While his mentor was an attractive man, it was like a mountain and a molehill to the teenager. Not to mention that this strict and serious ex-salaryman was hitched! To a babe no less!

Certainly, you didn't marry for personality!

He couldn't imagine what your daily life was like while Nanamin talked about doing the bare minimum and never smiled.

Raising an eyebrow, Nanami followed Itadori's stare to your state of dress. You weren't even wearing your indoor slippers, and you were absolutely breathtaking even if you had a dark clay mask over your face. He wasn't an idiot, and he could feel his blood vessels pumping harshly. Trying to remind himself with mantras of how Itadori was just a stupid, hormonal teenager, and you could dress how you wanted, and that he especially couldn't beat up Itadori. Pinching his nose bridge, the man couldn't even look at the boy. "My personal life and my work life are completely separate. I wouldn't anno — !"

"But you don't even wear a wedding ring!" Itadori insisted.

"Why would I wear my rings when my daily job involves fighting and getting messy?" Nanami rhetorically asked, stepping through your door with all the groceries in one go. "Wedding and engagement rings are investments, and I'd be damned if I lose my rings and be forced to inflate the wedding ring industry any more than I already have."

Grinning, you beamed at Itadori. Only you really know how seriously Nanami took the "three month's salary on rings" tradition, especially on his sorcerer's salary. "Now you know, Itadori-kun! If you catch him committing adultery while he's out without his ring, you'll shank him for me, right?" Placing both of your hands on your husband's waist, you laughed when you playfully tried to shake him. Of course, that didn't do much. Your man continued to stand there like a stone statue, as if you tried to rock a brick wall while he remained wholly unamused.

From your weak roughhousing, all that managed to do was drop your spaghetti strap from your shoulder. With your dress threatening to slip, Nanami sighed and quickly stood in front of you, blocking your body from Itadori's gaze. He carefully and slowly pulled your shoulder strap back up your body before you managed to flash the poor teen. When you looked up, his brown eyes met with yours.

Gently rubbing your bare shoulder with his large hand, he asked, "I thought you said you were going to Matsukiyo?"

"I was," you rasped out, voice raw from all the coughing you did. "But then I took one step outside and it was too damn hot." Laughing weakly, you said, "I slunk back like a vampire the second the humidity hit me."

The man sighed deeply, and his shoulders dropped in relief and exhaustion. While he ran around like a chicken with its head cut off from worry, he was glad that you ended up not going out after all.

"Why didn't you pick up my calls?" he said deeply, leaning in close enough for you to feel his breath on your ear.

"I was making okayu with kombu," you explained. "Sorry," you said genuinely, "that's all I managed to make for our dinner today."

"I'm upset that you cooked in the first place," Nanami scolded. "You should be resting. I said I'd take care of it. Why were you in the kitchen when the hot fumes could make your fever even worse?" Turning away from his nagging, you pouted.

"I'm hungry though…" you mumbled, far too much like a spoiled child, and Nanami was sure, in some way, that you were spoiled, of his making too. He always prioritized you and let you have your way. "And I already ate the miyeok guk you made."

"You could've ordered delivery," the man countered.

"Nothing interested me there."

Inhaling deeply once more, Nanami tried to calm the upcoming headache he felt. There was no point in arguing with you, not when you were coughing and sick like this. "Stay here. I'm going to whip up a bowl of okayu to have with your medicine," the man ordered before he picked up a blanket you had draped over one of your couches and wrapped you in it like a burrito. When you opened your mouth, your husband only sternly repeated, "Stay."

Playfully rolling your eyes when he left to go to the kitchen, you puffed out your cheeks in mock irritation. Closing the door to your apartment so the AC couldn't escape anymore, you turned to the teen who was standing awkwardly in your home.

"Aw I'm sorry," you said, voice sounding like sandpaper again. "You know, Kento's kinda strict, but I assure you he's a good man," you said gently. "Thank you so much for taking care of him."

"M-Me?" Itadori sputtered. "I'm not the one taking care of him! He takes care of me! Um…" The boy grew demure when he realized he had no way to address you.

"Oh," you realized you didn't introduce yourself. "I apologize! I totally forgot! I know you since Ken talks about you and Ino all the time, but I didn't realize you didn't know me!"

Itadori gasped. "He talks about me?!"

"Of course! All good things!" you assured. "Even though Kento seems like a meanie, he's a genuine person and wouldn't exaggerate, so he wouldn't praise you unless he absolutely meant it." You knew that this was the teen that hosted Sukuna, the King of Curses. It was a heavy burden for someone who wasn't even an adult yet, and your heart grew heavy at the thought of this boy's fate.

"Before I forget…" Quickly, you ran to your bathroom and cleaned off your clay face mask before you returned with your bare face wet and a cloth Pompompurin headband keeping your hair out of the way. "I need to introduce myself."

Now Itadori was sure that you two were married with the way you introduced yourself nearly identically to your husband. With your back straight and shoulders squared, hands flat, and arms straight at your side, you closed your eyes and bowed.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Itadori-kun." You acquired your business card out of thin air and held it out for the boy. "My name is Nanami [Name], and I'm a senior project manager at Yurukawa Corp. If you or your friends ever get tired of exorcising curses and want to look into engineering, you can ask me!"

Huh?

It was too silent.

When you rose and looked up, you realized that your husband had suddenly materialized out of nowhere. Standing in between you and Itadori, your husband's stern expression could freeze hell over as he stared down at Itadori with a frown, arm outstretched and his hand held up — right where Itadori's eyes would've seen your cleavage when you bent over to bow.

"Itadori-kun."

"Y-Yes!"

"We are going. Now."

The car was completely silent the entire way to the dorm rooms. Quickly shifting the car into park, Itadori jumped at the sudden stop.

No one said a word. The entire ride felt like the air was heavy enough to drown in.

"Itadori-kun." Nanami's eyes were hidden by the reflection in his glasses.

"…Yes?" the boy squeaked out, pressing his index fingers together.

"Never ogle my wife again."

[dewdropsonparchment]

SDV Headcanons: Sam 2/?

I promise I sometimes think about the other characters (keyword: sometimes) but Sam's pull is just too strong, what's a girl to do, I've got to gravitate.

Sam having a crush headcanons:

Long, insisting stares. Nothing weird or uncomfortable, he'd just kind of get lost in thought looking at you, a faint smile plastered on his face and his eyes drinking in your every change in expression. If you caught him and called him out on it, he'd probably sheepishly apologize, grinning like a dummy and laughing about it. He might try to flirt if he felt comfortable enough, "sorry you kinda took my breath away just now". He's a bit of a goofy flirt.

Always scanning the area for a glimpse of you. Not to spy on you or anything, you'd just kind of be like his daily dose of sunshine and he'd just literally function on that energy he gets when he sees you. Not only that but he'd want to make sure you look ok. If you seemed tired or down, he'd try to help out and make you feel better. Sam really does care, and he'd want that smile of yours to be showing always.

He'd want to learn about whatever it is that you like and about your hobbies. Even if you were interested in something he wouldn't really have cared about prior to knowing you, he would research it and try to learn about it so he can bring it up when you're hanging out. He'd even go as far as trying it out with you if that was a possibility. The same way he loves for you to take an interest in his hobbies, he wants you to feel appreciated and comforted in the idea that he is genuinely interested in what makes you happy.

He would slowly yet surely try to use pet names when addressing you. At first he would maybe drop one jokingly, saying it in an overly exaggerated tone, and then it'd become some sort of habit. He'd call for your attention using it and enjoy the fact it was something special between the two of you.

Regardless of whether or not you felt the same way about him as he did you, Sam wouldn't want to lose your friendship. He would have fallen for you because of who you are and even if he had to let his crush go or keep it to himself, he wouldn't sacrifice any bit of the bond you share together no matter your feelings. If anything, he'd probably keep on admiring you and cherishing you, but he would try to make it so that he's not burdening you with it.

Sam is definitely big on PDA. He would want to be close to you. His arm brushing against yours, his head centimeters away from yours while you're showing him something on your phone or in a magazine, his hand gently resting on the small of your back, even touching your hands while he's daydreaming or talking about something he's especially passionate about... this man craves for your touch and he'll take as much as you give him as long as you're comfortable giving it. He'll respect your boundaries, no justification needed.

Sam wants to hug everyone. But especially you. Oh you're saying hello? Here's one as a morning treat. You've done something you're embarrassed or shy about? No worries, he's got you... he'll hide you in a strong warm bear hug. Feeling like the world is beating down on you? He'd hold you so tight you would feel like nothing else exists outside of him and his reassuring smell. There is nothing better than a hug for him to show you he's there and will be there for you no matter what.

He will bring you whatever reminds him of you. A flower on the way home that wore your favorite colors? It's yours now. That little keychain that looked cute and had your vibe? Hey, better have some spare space on that key ring clip. A new yummy pastry made of your favorite flavors his eyes stopped on while ordering his go-to pizza? It's free food delivery time o'clock baby. You might need some sort of box to store all of these if we're being honest because he just won't stop.

Sam would become very protective of you. He is very protective of the people he cares about in general, but with those feelings for you, he would want to make sure everyone knows that if they crossed you the wrong way he'd make them eat their audacity. Not that he believes that you can't handle yourself, he's actually quite proud to boast about how strong and cool and amazing you are at any given opportunity, but there's just that little itch in him that pushes him to want to make sure no harm is every in the way of getting done to you. If he had to take a punch for you, he'd do it and not bat an eye.

He will be your hype man. If you ever feel like shit or you can't make peace with yourself on a particular day, he'll throw those compliments at you as fast as Pierre would run after that 1 gold coin. And nothing disingenuous, it's all heartfelt and he means all of it. He won't let you beat yourself up, he'll make sure that his voice is louder than any other that might try to put you down, even your own. You are precious to him, and he will make it a point to have you know in excruciating details exactly why you are.

Another tell tale sign of his falling for you would be the changes in lyrics regarding the songs he usually hums to himself. While he'd usually go for empowering songs, falling for you he'd catch himself listening to slower, more romantic songs with all those sappy lyrics he kinda made fun of before. And he'd listen to them on repeat, lying down on his bed, looking at the ceiling and just picturing your face as the melody goes. He'd have them stuck in his head so much he'd mindlessly sing them around you or others. Seb wouldn't let him live it down.

[hongism]

THIS WORLD. - k. hongjoong (m)

➼ genre; smut (some minor angst and fluff) ➼ pairing; hongjoong x fem!reader ➼ au; outlaw!hongjoong, dystopian futurism, lore accurate ateez ➼ warnings; explicit smut ➼ rating; m/18+ ➼ wc; 4.5k

What he’s given you is essentially one chance and night. Nothing more and nothing less.

part of the outlaw miniseries.

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➼ smut warnings; piv, unprotected sex, oral: f, creampie, light choking/asphyxiation, dirty talk, breast/nipple play

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Cool night air brushes across your cheeks as you set foot on the roof, eyes already scanning your surroundings in the hopes of finding what you’re looking for here. Of course, it doesn’t take much — Hongjoong is a hard man to miss unless the government officials are looking for him, in which case he has an uncanny ability to make himself totally invisible in a crowd.

There are no crowds up here though; just you, him, and the night to keep you company.

You see him clearly across the stretch of roof that’s accentuated by gaudy neon signs and other electrical components that keep the bar below powered.

“Closed up shop for the night,” you offer as a means of greeting the man. He’s donned his usual dramatic regalia tonight as well, complete with the patterned bandana pulled up over his nose and the ridiculous cowboy hat he fetched out of a dumpster several months back. It matches the vibe of the bar, he had told you and Mingi. While you weren’t on board, Mingi was more than a little eager to pull together a similar outfit for himself. “Everyone else went home.”

K-Hot Chilli Peppers. When you saw the job listing online, you had laughed at the name before realizing that it’s only half as ridiculous as many of the other bars in Night City, and you weren’t about to be picky given that you were desperate to find a place that lets you actually use your tender’s license on the daily. Upon being hired, you were promptly told to not ask questions when two rugged outlaws came through the doors and went up to the roof without pause. Answers came on their own, naturally and over time as you peeled back the seemingly endless layers to the two vigilantes who had set up shop in your new place of employment.

Whatever the circumstances and however the stars aligned that night you saw the job listing, it all boiled down to this: standing across from Hongjoong on the rooftop under the stars with this magnetic sort of pull towards the man. A pull you shouldn’t even think to entertain mostly because you’d like to keep your job and also a little bit because you’d like to keep your life.

Hongjoong got a message today. You know that much because you saw the small moped buzz by in front of the bar after all the customers left, and though you don’t know who that delivery driver is, you know he always brings something more than crappy takeout. The most convincing piece of evidence came in how Mingi promptly stormed out of the bar without so much as a goodbye twenty minutes later, and now here you stand up on the roof with the last man standing not long after. You aren’t here to ask questions as that wouldn’t be in your right (fairly so).

“I’m gonna close up and lock everything, if you’re done?” you continue pressing when Hongjoong fails to say anything back to you. He turns, gaze sharp as it finds you across the rooftop. The next moment, he pulls his bandana down to rest around his neck and exposes his handsome face to you.

“We’re not gonna be around much longer.”

You pull your lips together and do your best not to frown. “They won’t know you were ever here.”

“They’re gonna come looking here. And they’re gonna rip the place apart trying to find us.” Hongjoong takes slow steps in your direction as he speaks, tone low and quiet as though trying to either threaten or warn you. You don’t think he has a need for either. “When they come knocking, it’s not gonna matter what you do know or what you don’t know. Just being affiliated by name is enough of a crime.”

“Business is too good to be knocked down by a little police search.”

Hongjoong sinks his teeth into his lower lip. The light from the neon signs bounces off his face and casts crude little shadows across the roof. He looks far too worried for your liking, almost like there’s a semblance of care in the man, which was not part of the plan. You think you’re the one to blame for that, considering how you can’t simply leave well enough alone and have to express some modicum of care for those around you, including the vigilante outlaws that frequent your workplace and stay after hours. And well, all these months that have passed in this comfortable routine have made the heart grow fonder in many ways.

You’re quite fond of him, you think, and maybe those feelings are reciprocated to some extent.

The sky is clear tonight, free of clouds but the lights and pollution from the city obstruct the stars somewhat even now. Curfew is about to begin, but there’s no chance of you making it home before the drones start patrolling the streets. You could have left thirty minutes ago — should have most likely, but that chance is well and gone now.

“We leave tomorrow. I don’t know when we’ll be back.”

When is merely code for if, and you’re not dumb enough to think otherwise. If he survives whatever obscene plan he’s ready to deploy, you’re positive that Hongjoong won’t come back or set food near the bar again, even as a hideout. Men like him don’t stick to one place for long, especially not when their heads are full of grandiose plans of anarchy and destruction. You don’t blame him for it, but it does make your heart ache a little more than it should.

Your shoes skid across the stone of the roof as you cross the distance between you and him. It breaks the silence you’ve presented as an answer to him, and Hongjoong’s eyes grow wider as you turn the space into an afterthought. Shaky hands find their way around Hongjoong’s shoulders then come to clasp behind his neck.

“Tell me you’ll survive,” you plead to the night air between your lips.

“Of course I will,” he answers without hesitation, whether a lie or a truth he is willing to truly stand by and believe. You don’t ask that he tell you he’ll return here; some dreams are a bit too far-fetched.

When your hands begin to fall away from him, Hongjoong dips his chin and slots his lips over your parted ones. You scramble to regain your hold on him, fingers stretching up to tangle in the dark blue strands of hair on the back of his head just below where his hat sits. The pressure against your mouth is faint to begin with, something small and searching as he tests the waters and waits for your response. As though pulling him closer and nearly kissing him moments ago wasn’t enough of a confirmation for whatever this is.

“This is all I can give you,” he exhales into your mouth, and you press another heated kiss against his lips. I don’t need more than this. This is enough. This is all I could ask for from someone like you. It would be nice if you could ask for more but this is all the greed you can bear. His hands wander from your hips up to the hem of your shirt that sits against the loops of your jeans. The first contact of his fingertips on bare skin hits you like a bucket of ice water and sends goosebumps all across your body.

“Hongjoong,” you say against his mouth as he palms his way down to your thighs. He does well to quiet whatever thoughts are rushing through your head right now with his lips, breaking from yours to mouth along the line of your jaw. The force of his body moving against yours is enough to push you back, and you fall into step with him in an almost haphazard sort of way. Your back hits the wall soon after, right beside the door you just came out of minutes prior, and now Hongjoong has you pressed against the concrete with a knee slipping between your thighs. “Hongjoong.”

“You can’t stay here.” The blunt tips of his painted nails dig into the flesh above your jeans. A gasp tumbles from your lips as he licks over a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, and it makes your knees buckle in turn. “I can have two of my men transport you to a different area of the city in the morning. Earlier the better. We won’t be enacting any plans under the sun’s gone down.” You busy yourself with the buttons keeping his shirt around his body.

“No.”

He pauses where he is, halfway to removing your shirt from your torso, and looks you in the eye. You abandon his shirt in favor of clasping both hands around his cheeks.

“I’m not going anywhere because you’re going to come back to me and get me yourself.” Rather than denying your wistfulness, Hongjoong offers a half-smile and a breathy laugh, one you share in yourself before pulling his face back up to your own. You taste his lips again, but this time you pay more attention to it, the hint of spice on his tongue as he pushes past the seam of your mouth and explores you further. Your hands are busy with his shirt once more under the urging of your eagerness to have him. He responds in kind by hiking your shirt up over your chest and dragging the blunts of his nails down over the exposed skin on his path to your pants.

“Let me go down on you?” Your chest tightens at the proposition and at the way his voice sounds inexplicably strained from the mere thought of tasting you.

“Take this stupid shirt off first, for fuck’s sa—” Frustration wins the battle against his clothing, and Hongjoong leans away from you with a clear, resounding laugh that makes your stomach turn to mush. You ought to kick yourself in the side of the head for not acting on the blatant chemistry dancing between the two of you before now. Still, if this truly is a one-and-done thing, you’re going to do the absolute most to make it worth it. And maybe a bit unforgettable for both of you. Hooking your fingers under the handkerchief still tied about his neck, you pull Hongjoong close once again. He rushes to brace his hands on either side of you, his shirt still dangling from where it remains tucked into his ridiculous faux leather pants. His mouth goes straight for your neck, pulling the skin between his teeth and sucking so harshly at it that you feel tingles rush up to your skull. Your whine is music in the distant noise of the city, softly exhaled against the side of his head and disturbing the hair behind his ear. His hat is beginning to get in your way now too, especially as he kisses a path down to where he left your shirt. You catch the brim just before he goes lower, stripping it off his head with the hand you have draped around his shoulders. When he looks up at you from between your breasts, you smile, close-lipped but with an arched brow meant to tease further.

“The amount of filthy, heinous jokes on my mind right now,” he groans, head dipping forward to rest against your chest.

“If you make any sort of cowboy joke I’ll make sure you finish in your hand and nowhere else.” The threat is halfhearted of course, but it makes Hongjoong laugh in that obscenely pretty way again and you revel in the sound as he frees your breasts just enough to have access to them. Your nipples are already hardened peaks thanks to the simple touches from earlier, but the cool air stiffens them even further before Hongjoong has the chance to pull one into his mouth. Your back curls up off the wall, Hongjoong pinches your right nipple, and at the same moment, he pushes you back to the wall with enough force to punch a moan out of you.

“F-Fuck, Hongjoong.” You’re suddenly rather grateful to have something to hold onto because otherwise you would be digging your nails into your palms and making yourself bleed. As it is, you might run the risk of ruining Hongjoong’s treasured hat with how tight you’re gripping it at present. Your other hand sits on his bicep, atop the black-lettered inking that dances across his arm and reminds you that this man in your arms is one of a kind. You wonder, far and away in the back of your brain, how many have had the pleasure of being in your current position. He disperses those runaway thoughts mere seconds later; his hand sneaks down from its perch cupping your breast and locks onto the button keeping your pants together. The resulting lewd and wet pop! that comes from him pulling his lips away from your nipple makes your neck heat up.

“Bet I could make you cream your panties without even getting in your pants,” he quips as the button comes loose. Deftly, he works the zipper down in the same smooth movement.

“Who are you trying to impress, cowboy? You’ve already got me for the night.”

The muscles in his neck strain as he laughs and tilts his chin to the side, and your breath hitches watching him sink to his knees between your legs. Hongjoong folds his fingers around your wrist — the hand that currently holds his hat by the brim — and slowly, he guides you to place it back where it belongs atop his head.

“There. Now you can call me that again.” You can’t hide the unsteadiness of your breaths from him like this, even though he’s currently occupying his focus with stripping you of both jeans and underwear in one go. You brace a hand over your heart just to make sure it's still part of you despite racing like you’ve just run a marathon. Hongjoong’s lips skate against the inside of your knee when he lifts your ankle and carefully pulls the boot from your foot. Fabric follows suit quickly, then he commits to the same routine for your other leg — complete with the ghosting kisses and soft drags of his nails over the bare skin of your thighs. The growing pit of arousal in your stomach is so heavy that you think it might simply drip out of you the moment he touches your folds.

“Hongjoong,” you whisper. His kisses climb to the inside of your thighs, close enough to exhale heated breath across your pussy, but he doesn’t push further than that. Content to sit between your legs in the lewdest of positions and stare up at you through fluttering lashes.

“That’s not what you called me.” Hongjoong grins, cheek brushing against your thigh so close to your sex that your muscles twitch. “Maybe I’ll consider it—” he enunciates the word particularly harshly “—and do whatever you’d like?”

“You’re so — ugh, I want you to eat me out,” you mumble into the cradle of your hands, hardly able to look down at the man and be expected to speak like a normal functioning human being in this sort of predicament. He’s silent in return. “Cowboy.”

The veil of seriousness drops at that, and you’re the first to laugh at the sheer absurdity of calling him such a thing right now. Hongjoong can’t seem to keep himself together either, huffed laughter spilling out of him in turn.

“I wasn’t serious about you calling me that, y/n, I was just teasing. But I guess you want it pretty damn bad, huh?”

“Shut up!” Your tone contorts into a cracked gasp as Hongjoong wraps a hand back and around your thigh and spreads your legs over his face. Your hand flies to cover your mouth — something done out of pure instinct — and the man beneath you is quick to tut his disapproval.

“Let me hear you, pretty. I don’t want you covering anything up.”

“I-It’s the middle of the night,” you argue through your fingers.

“And? Wake the whole damn city if you have to, I want you to cry on my cock.”

You let your hand fall away and come to rest atop Hongjoong’s head (his hat, rather). Your view of what he’s doing is entirely obscured except for the slightest glint of his eyes when he tilts his chin against your cunt. You can’t seem to tear your gaze off of him regardless, lips parted and quivering as he presses his tongue between your folds and takes his first taste of you. The tension in your gut is wound into a knot so tight that your eyes burn and sting at the corners. Hongjoong takes you into his palm, onto his tongue, and into his deft fingers, and unravels you gloriously.

Two fingers dip lower and press against your entrance. He teases you with the pad of his middle finger only, toying with your hole and pushing into you ever so slightly before retracting to circle your clit with his tongue. He can’t run his mouth as he very much loves to in this position, but you’re finding that he makes use of his mouth in other more devilish ways, another talent he keeps tucked under his belt that you’re reaping the benefits from.

You can’t think of the last time you got laid, and trying to think of the last good fuck you had would be an even taller order. To imagine when a man last ate you out with actual passion and not simply as a means to an end might be impossible, or perhaps Hongjoong is simply keen on blowing every last sexual experience you’ve had out of the water in one go. When his fingers finally, at long last, stretch you open, you cry out with a moan so loud that it would be a miracle if no one heard it.

“Gonna make you taste yourself on my lips, pretty. Make your little cunt cream all over my cock until I fill you up with cum.” You jerk Hongjoong’s head almost violently, a sharp response to the way his fingers curl against your walls, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest from the task at hand. He pulls your clit between his lips and sucks until your knees give out under you. It sends his fingers deeper into your cunt in the same motion, nearly making you come undone.

“T-Too much, too much, Hongjoong, it’s — fuck, fuck, ah!” You fold in on yourself, free hand moving to press against your stomach as the pressure in you reaches an unbearable degree. Hongjoong works his fingers in and out of you at a steadily increasing pace and almost seems to be making a game of the way he curls them each time he flicks his tongue against your clit just for another moan to climb out of your throat. Each sound is more broken than the last, sweat beads on your forehead, and you think there’s a euphoric end in sight just for him to pull away without warning. Your walls clench tight around nothing as his fingers are now gone from you and sucked between his own lips. Dazed and frustrated, you pass an incredulous stare his way just for him to grin back at you, tongue teasing the vee between his fingers.

“Hm? Did you want something?”

“I—” Hongjoong eases your body back against the stone wall and hoists one of your legs around his hips. Your cunt is still tense and pulsing to the rhythm he spent all that time building. “If you don’t get inside me right the fuck now, Kim Hongjoong, so help me—”

He makes good on his promise to have you taste yourself on his lips. His tongue shoves its way into your mouth as well, eager to tangle with yours and push your arousal onto your own taste buds. You delight in the fervor with which he kisses you, and in the sound of his belt jingling because it means more pleasure is on the horizon. You feel a hand against your hip, and that’s the only real warning you get before he’s pushing the length of his dick into your pussy and burying himself to the hilt in you. You scramble to grab hold of him somehow. It’s a slight miracle that you don’t bite both his and your own tongues in the process because you cry out into his mouth. Your moan remains unbroken even when he pulls your mouths apart and rushes to cradle the back of your head before you whack it harshly against the concrete behind you. There’s not a second to catch your breath in Hongjoong’s mind; his other hand is busy at work, and he presses the pad of his thumb into your clit. He rubs once, twice, three times before you unravel on his cock.

“You’re so tight, fuck, if you could feel yourself, your cunt is so tight.” There are stars behind your eyelids, clearer than the ones in the sky, and Hongjoong begins to rock his hips up into yours as the weight of your orgasm barrels down on you. “You feel so good on me, pretty. Fuckin’ made for my cock, yeah?”

“Yeah, y-yes, yes, yes.” Your voice cracks at the tail end of your agreement. It turns into something more akin to a sob than a moan. Hongjoong’s pace is relentless in every regard. The lack of pause doesn’t let your body come totally undone or relax, still wound tight around your previous orgasm to the point where it feels like it won’t end.

“Keep taking it, lovely, I won’t be able to pull out with you squeezing around me like this.”

Whining, you drop your head to the side, chin coming all the way down to your shoulder. Hongjoong snakes his hand around to your neck and braces his index finger and thumb on either side of your jaw. Your head lolls in tune with the way he moves you and without resistance — every ounce of strength in your muscles has melted into goo in his hands. When he presses you back to the wall, your breath hitches. The sensation of his fingers at your neck has you feeling floaty and a bit detached from your body in the most pleasant way imaginable. His thrusts jerk your body enough to offer more pressure against your neck every so often but it’s not as persistent as you wish for it to be.

When you reach between your bodies and clasp your fingers around his wrist, Hongjoong seems to think that you want him to pull away because his grip loosens instantly.

“More,” you grit out, yanking his hand harder into the column of your neck. The steady rhythm he’s found falters momentarily for him to resituate his grip, but once he’s settled back into it, each thrust comes with a delightful headiness as your breath becomes shorter.

“’m close,” he announces. He shifts a hair to look down between your bodies and watches his length disappear into you a few more times before pulling his focus back up to your face with a groan. “Gonna cum in you, pretty, you’re still so tight.”

“Wanna cum with you, t-touch me again,” you pant, licking your lips between each phrase, “please.”

Despite his own shaky hands, Hongjoong reaches down to where his cock pumps in and out of you. He finds your clit with ease and rolls two fingers over it in a similar rhythm to his thrusts, pace only growing as he races towards his finish with you in tow. His motions fail as he orgasms, but the sudden feeling of his cock twitching inside your walls and pumping you full of hot cum pushes you over the edge with him. You almost don’t even feel it with all the sensations hitting you at once, and Hongjoong’s body falls against yours so harshly that your moan is positively unholy.

His hands keep roaming — tracing every inch of skin he can reach like he wants to commit it all to memory, and you simply let him do as he pleases because it feels good and it feels damn good to be wanted by this man. He pulls you towards a different section of the rooftop with your pants and underwear in hand. When he tugs you down to the messy pile of blankets that he and Mingi leave up here for particularly cold nights, you don’t even complain either. He lays himself down atop you, easing between your legs and caging you in with elbows pressed to concrete on either side of your head.

Hongjoong kisses you softly, and you smile against his lips. He finally settles down beside you after a few more exchanged kisses. His hat gets put aside with the other stray pieces of clothing — including his shirt that he’s finally decided to rid himself of far after the fact. The aftermath is peaceful, if a bit hazy as your brain still feels a jumbled mess of putty, and the stars above are bright.

“I’ll have someone pick you up in the morning to take you over to my men. The bar won’t be safe for a few weeks minimum. They can give you some cash to help cut your losses in the meantime too.”

“Okay,” you answer quietly. Beside you, his hand searches the blankets for your own. You let his fingers tangle with yours and squeeze until it hurts.

“Just don’t let Wooyoung try to convince you to buy into any scheme he might come up with.”

“Who?”

“Trust me, he’ll let you know who he is.” Hongjoong laughs at his own comment but falls into silence when he glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Come back for me please.”

Hongjoong is quiet beside you for several lingering seconds, then he leans across the empty space and kisses your temple.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

You believe him.

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please like & reblog this work and consider leaving a reply or sharing your thoughts in a reblog or ask!

this work belongs to caly / hongism (2023). do not copy, repost, or plagiarize in any way.

[astaroth1357]

The OM Cast as Househusbands

Inspired by my recent rant about domestic Solomon.

Contents: Pure fluff and unhinged roasts.

~♡♡♡~

Lucifer

A-tier. Generally a solid choice skill-wise.

Cooks decent, cleans well, budgets FANTASTICALLY, has a good list of connections/spells for all home repair, and even has a stern (but caring) parenting-style if so desired.

In short, Lucifer can run a house very well. He practically already does! Hope you like having a big, extended family because the brothers are coming with.

Really, the biggest downside to Lucifer is that you'll be constantly worried that he's bored... Man can run a house and then some. He probably has the daily chores done by noon, and then what?

He just has so much extra potential, is what I'm saying. Very "big, beautiful bird in a cramped cage" energy. But then again, maybe making him chill the fuck out and have a low-maintenance lifestyle for once is better for his blood pressure in the long run. Your call.

Mammon

B-tier. He ain't perfect, but he can learn quick.

If you can give Mammon anything, it's that he's a capable guy when he wants to be. He may not be good at cleaning up, cooking, or anything like that on his own, but with some encouragement...?

Big improvements made practically overnight! Shower him in praise and "thank you's" for every little thing he does and he'll start get greedy for it. Then he'll do even MORE around the house and he gets better each time.

Show him how to cook what you like, and he'll never forget. Remind him to fold up the laundry, and he'll get it done. Praise him for keeping the floors clean, then suddenly he's nagging YOU about tracking dirt on the carpet...

And he'll get so proud about it too... Like, he's your first man and you NEED him now. What would you ever do without him?? Now hand over your shirts because he has some ironing to do, dammit!!

The only downside is you'll have to handle the finances... The words "Mammon" and "budget" go together about as well as "grainery" and "match." He'll blow through it and then some. Earners beware.

Leviathan

Hovers around C-D tier. Levi can play the role of good househusband for a VERY particular kind of partner, otherwise he's a lost cause.

He is a surprisingly decent househusband ONLY when sufficiently motivated and playing out his "domestic slice-of-life" fantasies are that motivation.

He can cook (anime-inspired dishes), he can clean (if you convince him to treat the house like he does his figurine collections), he can even sew/mend (though the majority of what he makes may be cosplay related)!

He won't leave the house to shop, but deliveries are fine. He also can't keep to a budget that doesn't include a MASSIVE chunk carved out to maintain his otaku lifestyle. He'll throw a fit otherwise.

Really, Levi's biggest problem is that once those "domestic fantasies" become mundane, he'll get bored and go back to his shows and games again.

Anyone with him would need to keep feeding into his role with new "quests" or different tropes to try out like a DM running an irl campaign. Could be fun for a little while, but it'll be too much trouble for you both long term. Best give him a skip.

Satan

S-tier. Very good choice, and he's proud of that fact.

Cooks well, very conscientious of your needs, knowledgeable on many topics from recipes to home repair, actually knows how to do laundry in a timely manner... a very good man indeed.

100% the kind of husband who sees that it's going to rain, so he treks out to wherever the hell you are to make sure you have an umbrella. Can't have you getting sick.

Get him a cat and the house will become his own slice of the Celestial Realm. He'll even text cute pics/updates on what your cat is doing like they're your literal child.

Only downside is cleaning. He's a book horder and will argue until he's blue in the face to keep Every. Last. Pamphlet. An in-house library is a MUST and expect to need expansions. Otherwise, perfect man. Much approval to be had.

Asmodeus

B-A tier. Another decent choice, just a little eccentric at times.

Asmo is that partner who will happily play the part of the trophy househusband buuut he absolutely won't do anything too strenuous or dirty.

Cooking? Totally fine! He isn't amazing, but he's not awful either. Laundry? Say no more! Your clothes will never have a wrinkle again. But cleaning...? Like the floors, attic, or ESPECIALLY the bathroom??

Nope. Nuh-huh. His cute-ass hair and his cute-ass nails in his cute-ass clothes will not stand for it! He's going to beg for a maid immediately.

I guess in exchange you'll be hosting some killer dinner parties, though! Asmo has that "suburban wife who flaunts her amazing life" energy. Also keeping his influencer game alive with tutorials galore.

In short, Asmo is willing not just to spoil you, but elevate you as well. You just need to give him a little pampering in return, kay?

Beelzebub

B-tier. Most of his problems are, predictably, food related...

Beel really, REALLY tries but you are probably never going to have a meal on time (if there's somehow any food left at all).

It isn't that he won't cooking, arguably, he spends TOO much time cooking because he'll spend just as much time eating! Or running to the store because he ate the ingredients again...

Surprisingly, though, he's actually very good at cleaning and caring for another person. That's because it's what he does for Belphie. You think the seventhborn is picking up their room AT ALL? Don't kid yourself...

Probably a good time to point out that another downside (or perk??) of husband!Beel is you also get Belphie! But he's just as spoiled as ever so... Hopefully Beel's overwhelming amazingness will make up for that.

If you like Belphie and don't mind an empty cabinet, Beel is a good choice. If not, there are better options available, I promise.

Belphegor

D-tier. Shit househusband. Doesn't even try.

Won't clean, won't cook, won't shop, can't fix, can't budget, and don't even get me STARTED on the state of the sheets!!-

He is a decorative plant of a househusband. Meant only to make the room look nicer by his presence. I've seen dogs more capable and self-motivated to maintain a household than this man will ever be.

Should you somehow get him to exert the effort, he will whine and complain the entire time. And even then, he won't do much more than put some things away and order takeout.

The only upside to Belphie is that since he's always asleep, it's not like he's making the house any dirtier. Vacuuming around his unconscious ass is home life now. At least you probably get Beel too.

Diavolo

C-B tier. What he lacks in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm.

So... he basically can't do anything but since he's never had to, you can cut him some slack. He loves the idea of TRYING though, so you have an eager student!

He finds cooking to be a fun challenge and he isn't terrible at it. Cleaning is a drag but he likes to see you happy. You'll have to teach anything laundry/clothes related, unfortunately, and sending him to the grocery store without a very detailed list may result in him buying an entire aisle if he doesn't know what to get.

At least he'll genuinely love to hear about your day and have the biggest smile and warmest greeting for you every time you come home. He's like a big'ol puppy, just thrilled with your existence!

(Honestly, if something has him stumped, he'll call for Barbatos to help. He'll try to hide it because he wants to show that he can do things himself, but at the end of the day your happiness wins over his pride. Now let the butler fix your plumbing.)

Barbatos

SS-tier. So good, it's literally not fair.

He's been caring for another person for centuries. He has every possible skill he would need permanently etched into his DNA. He is the Grand Master of Domestic Life that all others should strive for.

Meals are at perfect temperature by the time you sit at the table. The house is so spotless that you could eat off the broom closet. Anything that breaks gets fixed/replaced within the day. He even leaves words of encouragement in the little notes packed up with your lunch. You'll start to wonder if he's an angel who's infiltrated too deep....

Barbs also seems to have a sixth sense for whenever you've had a bad day. You come back dragging from exhaustion? You favorite meal is already cooked, the bath is ready to be drawn, and would you like a shoulder rub on top of that? Feel free to vent, he loves to listen to whatever stories you have to share!

There are only two downsides to Barbatos: the first is that you are absolutely sharing him still with Diavolo and the young master is his top concern. So sorry.

The second is that moment he gets even the hint that there may be a rat in the house, he'll nuke the place with all of your stuff still in it. So keep some traps out and keep'em fresh, yeah? You'll be fine.

Simeon

S-tier. He even comes with pre-installed parenting skills! (If you're into that kind of thing).

Simeon may not have Barbs' "live to serve" mentality, but he is truly an angel to a fault. The man already acts as Den Mother of Purgatory Hall, so what would you expect?

He cooks well enough to own his own business and you can't run a business without being good with your cash. He probably has book royalties too... Plus, he cleans up after Solomon's messy ass in canon, so-

He's gonna be that husband you take to the office party and nobody will leave you alone about him for the next week. People are going to ask if he has a brother or some shit (give them Raph's number, I dare you)

Admittedly, home repair (especially of the electronics he's guaranteed to break) should probably go to someone else. Also, he is a package deal with Luke. That child is your unspoken son now, and you'll just have to deal with that.

Otherwise, he's trophy material. Marry him and carry him over that threshold! He's worth it, truly.

Solomon

I've already ranted about Solomon here. But if you aren't aware, he's D-tier saved only by the fact that he's really trying his best.

800 year-old bachelor be like: "Oh, you're supposed to change those...? They don't smell that bad after a month."

"Of course those dishes are clean! Yes, I can see that there's still food on them, but I washed them with soap. That's what makes them clean."

"What do you mean, 'Don't set the table with beakers on date night?' Isn't this one your favorite??"

"Dinner's almost done, honey! Just let me finish clubbing this octopus!" 😁

Disaster husband. Just leave him to his delusions and get used to takeout...

[blissfullyecho]

My 2025 Skinny Routine

1. I’m cutting back on added sugar. My ultimate goal is to keep my added sugar below 20g or 30g weekly (I have a huge sweet tooth and can easily have this in a day). Added sugar is only found in processed foods and it makes you fat and age. But I’m not giving up on sweets entirely so I’ll limit my budget to 20-30g weekly.

2. Intermittent fasting at least 16:8 daily. Fasting is such a good way for your blood sugar to regulate, your gut to actually run smoothly, burns through carbs and sugars first to then burn fat (energy), etc.

3. Skinny dinners— no carbs at night unless it was on occasion. Carbs are important to give us fuel and energy. I don’t need energy and fuel before bed in a couple of hours.

4. I’m ditching dairy and having it on special occasions like if I ate out. But I won’t have dairy or anything containing dairy in my kitchen this year. I’ll enjoy it when I’m eating out.

5. Fasted cardio. So I live in LA and since moving here, I fell in love with hiking. My job allows me to work remote so I can go on a few hikes per week in the morning. Running is also one of my favs but I would like to be outside more this year.

6. Reformer pilates. I currently go to Pilates a solid 3x a week but I’m going to increase that to 4x a week. I spend almost $800 a month for my current membership (I have unlimited mat and reformer pilates) and would actually like to take advantage of what I’m paying for.

7. I’m going to start eating breakfasts again. I’ve noticed that when I don’t have breakfast, I make crazy decisions for lunch and dinner. I intermittent fast currently from 12p-6p but I’m thinking about changing it to 9a-3p.

8. You guys are going to gag but I spend almost $2k a month in food delivery. This includes tipping, and yes, I always tip and I tip 25% because I found out Uber only pays the drivers $2 per trip and drivers have to pay for their own gas. So yes, I’m tipping and I’m not going to cut down on tipping. But I am going to cut down on the amount of times I get food delivery because I get so bloated everytime I eat out. LA has really good healthy options but I still feel nauseous after I eat out vs. when I eat from home.

9. I’m going to start reaching for fruit way more than sweets. My problem is that I will buy a bunch of produce because it’s convenient for me when I’m feeling lazy, and then it sits in my fridge getting moldy because I want Tiramisu instead. I’m going to have to train myself to grab for fruit and let the tiramisu be a weekly treat and not a daily 9pm Uber Eats delivery (although I have been good because it’s holiday season and I cut back on the junk this time of year)

10. Scale back on the red meat. I have been eating steak almost every day and I am so lethargic afterwards. I’ve never really been a crazy meat eater but lately I’ve been eating filet or wagyu daily. I even had bacon wrapped scallops last night and I hate bacon. Like I said in my last skinny post, I eat a ton of protein around this time of year but the red meat is not making me feel too hot.

This is obviously subject to change but this is what I’ve been feeling lately. I don’t care for any messages that tell me this is triggering. What this is is healthy. Having 10 burgers a week because you’re “listening to your body” is not healthy and that’s not self-love or balance. That’s 10 freaking cheeseburgers lol.

Anyway, my book The Luxe Girl’s Playbook to Life that talks about going into 2025 an upgraded version of yourself will be unavailable in 2 days from this post (11/28/24). Get yourself yours today or miss out.

[helixobesity]

Stay in Bed

That’s what the doctor told you to do after all. Hell even when the world was locked down you couldn’t stay still, always working out, finding something to keep yourself occupied. There was never a second you stayed still since you wanted to watch your weight, your friends might have let themselves go but you were determined not to let that happen then and kept that mentality for years to come.

Of course that was before you had a little accident.

It was just a simple slip and fall, you even got right up afterwards. It wasn’t long until a quick doctors visit told you to stay off your leg for the next 12 weeks as it healed. Now, you were stuck at home, needing to stay in bed as much as possible.

The first week was horribly boring, working from home wasn’t an option for you for the time being. Of course you spent the time reading, watching shows, movie and whatever else. Then your stomach quietly growled. You still had plenty at home to continue your extremely healthy diet… for a few days. Then you were forced to turn to takeout and delivery. That’s when it started.

Maybe it was something deep inside you finally being let out or something else new all together. You started to gorge yourself day in and day out. As the days turned to weeks, eating was your new way to cope with boredom and you loved it. A box of snack cakes wouldn’t last more than a few hours, pizza deliveries that were once a cheap day became daily. From small to medium to large.

3 weeks in now as your belly, once toned and slim, laid in your lap round and full, you knew you shouldn’t be eating this much. Yet you couldn’t help yourself. You didn’t realize it but gluttony had already taken hold of you. Your arms lost definition, your cheeks began to fill out a bit more, and your chin began to double just a smidge. You needed to eat more.

Soon enough though, the change had already been finalized. 12 weeks came and went. You were fat now. You’d outgrown all your clothes, you’d gained more weight than you thought possible. You weren’t going to stop now. Your life became a cycle of obesity, overeating and gaining more weight. All it took was one small misstep, and your life changed for the better.

So why don’t you stay in bed and eat more for me like a good piggy~

🌀💿🌀💿🌀💿🌀

[tzuberry]

me, you, and the red bracelet

pairing gunwook + gn reader details red string of fate but not rlly (?) cw blood (not graphic), trip/fall wc 1192 read time 5 mins

note i hate this bruh i cba to fix it or anything i think the entire plot of this is what’s wrong with it it just doesn’t feel right.. unfortunately

masterlist navigation

You never thought anything much of the red string bracelet your mother gave you on the day of your middle school graduation—just that it looked kind of stupid. Upon receiving it, at the unripe age of fourteen, you contemplated its purpose and why your mom couldn’t give you a shiny new Pandora charm bracelet as your friends’ parents did for them.

Nevertheless, as a relic of representation of your grandmother’s beliefs (as your dad had told you), it became difficult to take off… metaphorically. You couldn’t just disrespect a family member like that; especially one that had essentially raised you. So, the sort of odd-looking, entirely useless red string wrapped around your wrist had to stay just the way it was.

Over time, its significance, and the meaning of it, diminished in your point of view. No one in your family had taken the time to enlighten you on its real purpose, so in the end… what—who were you wearing it for?

“I think it’s cute,” your friend Eunah said one day. She had a stripe of frothed milk above her upper lip from drinking the cafe mocha she ordered, so it was hard to take her seriously. Still, it was clear what she was talking about; she slid the tip of her finger under the red string across your wrist, tugging on it slightly.

In the mid-afternoon of another unremarkable Saturday, you’d found yourselves at the nearest coffee shop to your building on campus. You had a lot of work to catch up on, and Eunah graciously offered to accompany you… but she ended up not much of a help. Additionally, she only got you wondering if you had a milk mustache identical to hers, seeing as you’d gotten the same drink.

“It’s alright,” you replied, letting out a deep breath as you continued writing with your free hand. “I’m thinking of taking it off one of these days.”

“Oh, come on,” your friend groaned. “It means something, you know,” she stated, tone almost defensive. Your best friend was big on myths, theories, and any kind of legend—she was probably about to regale you on another one, this time concerning the bracelet you wore daily. “Like, when you find your soulmate, the string will break—I’ve heard of it.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, okay.” You were never one to believe any of this, which is why you never did any of your own research regarding your red string. It’s stupid, and it looks stupid too.

“Fine. Don’t believe me then,” she said, amused and rolling her eyes. “Just… when it happens, at least tell me I was right. And that I told you so.” Eunah began to pack her things into her blue Herschel backpack, and with all your textbooks and notepads laid out on the table, you didn’t have the chance to notice that she…

She stood up, wearing her bag over both shoulders. “I’ll see you on Monday, [Name]. Text me when you leave later.”

“Mhm,” you passively hummed. “Text me when you get home.”

She nodded. “I will.” Then, she went out the door.

It’d been only a few minutes post-Eunah exit when you came to find that your advanced chem textbook was gone—just— poof. As if it hadn’t had a spot on the table earlier, as if someone had… oh. (As if someone had taken it.)

You dashed out of the cafe as quickly as you could, not minding the passers-by and their brief judgmental glances. You needed that book—your exam was on Monday. You couldn’t even begin to think about what you would do without it. And, sure, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world if you weren’t able to catch up to Eunah, but it was more convenient to chase after her now than to commute to her house or assign a delivery service to bring you your textbook.

It had just so happened when your friend came into view, you… tripped. Shit. At least your arms broke the fall.

You were so certain the palms of your hands were grazed and (a very tiny bit) bloodied—so much so that you concluded it would hurt to prop yourself up to stand. Luckily, although you didn’t know it at the time…

“You alright?” a stranger asked, extending help in the form of his hand reaching for yours.

Despite your better judgment, the first thing that came to your mind had unfortunately been: he’s really, really cute. And tall. He flashed you an awkward smile, which prompted you to wonder why until he shook his empty hand in front of you—a subtle reminder that you had yet to get up from the floor.

“Oh, oh—!” you gasped, taking his offer into grasp. (Not too tightly though. Your palm was still… bleeding.) Your eyes locked onto his wrist as he helped you back up, and it’s just then that you realized it: your red string bracelet is gone.

The boy laughed. “That was a hard fall,” he said, nearly giggling in… amusement at your misfortune. He had taken his hand back before you could even hope that your blood didn’t rub off on him. His smile dropped. “You’re bleeding.”

Your red string bracelet was gone.

Your red string bracelet was gone.

Your red string bracelet was... who even is this guy?

“Hello? Are you good?” He waved his hand ahead of your face.

“[Name],” he called out. How did he know your name? (Newsflash: it was on your ID.) “Are you good?”

With half your consciousness gone due to the sole premise of your bracelet disappearing, you’d lost the ability to lead any train of thought clearly. “What’s your name?” you semi-breathlessly inquired, tilting your head and raising a brow.

He pointed to himself and asked for clarification. With this gesture, you noticed that he wore the same ID lanyard as yours. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“Gunwook.” He smiled softly.

Could Eunah really have been right? You’d just met this guy, when—

“Gunwook, can I have your number?” ... Impulse took over the rationality in you.

He broke into the widest grin you’d ever seen. He let go of your hand, which you hadn’t remotely noticed he took ahold of again, and stared at you intently as he waited for you to open your phone. You didn’t have your phone on you.

With a shake of your head, he immediately understood and pulled a pen out of his pocket. “Got paper?”

That you did. Gunwook ripped it into two, gave you one, wrote his number down first, and then lent you his pen. He wanted your number too…

“Uh, here it is.” Passing the piece of paper back to him, you pursed your lips, and the corners of your mouth came up ever-so-slightly. “Thanks. I’ll, um, go now.”

You rushed away (briskly walking) from the echo of Gunwook’s voice, ringing out with the question: “Wait! How’s your hand?”

“Good!” you yelled back.

Fortunately, when you reached the cafe again, your belongings and coffee were left untouched. There, you fished out your phone from somewhere in your backpack and called Eunah right away, planning to open with the line: “You were right, and you told me so.”

[inkmonster21]

Short n’ Sweet💋

Hugh Jackman x Fem!Sister!Reynolds!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, tension, angst, argument

Part 16

Series Masterlist

You Do Something Sus, Kiss My Cute Ass Bye

💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋

As you sit in the car, your rehearsal session still fresh in your mind, you glance at your phone. It's 7:38 PM, and you realize that you might be able to catch Hugh at an opportune time. With hopeful anticipation, you dial Hugh's number, fingers crossed that he'll be free.

After a few rings, the line connects, and Hugh's voice comes through the receiver. "Hello?" he answers, his tone holding a mix of curiosity and familiarity.

“Hi, this wouldn’t happen to be Hugh Jackman would it?”

There's a soft chuckle on the other end of the line before Hugh responds, playing along with your silly charade. "Indeed it is," he replies, his voice warm and friendly. "And who might I be speaking with?"

“Need to know, baby. I’ve got a special delivery for one Hugh Jackman. Wondering if he was home and not busy so I could drop it off.”

Hugh grins, now aware of your playful banter. "Ah, a special delivery, hm? Sounds intriguing," he responds, his tone laced with playful curiosity. "And who might this special delivery be from?" “The shipping label says it’s from your conveniently young, hot, sexy girlfriend.”

Hugh laughs aloud at your description, clearly amused by your playful words. "Oh, my conveniently young hot sexy girlfriend," he chimes back, his voice filled with both humor and affection. "I guess that means you're the one behind this special delivery?"

“Only if you’re home and it’s okay I come over.”

Hugh's tone softens as he responds, his desire for your company is evident in his words. "Yeah, I'm home, I was about to work out, but please can come over. I'd love to see you."

“I’ll be over in about 25 minutes then. I’m leaving rehearsal now.”

Hugh's smile is audible in his voice as he responds. "Great, I'll be waiting for you. Drive safely," he says, a hint of both excitement and reassurance in his tone.

As you park your car outside Hugh's apartment, a wave of anticipation washes over you. The weeks of rehearsals, hectic schedules, and the absence of Hugh's presence in your daily life have only heightened your excitement to finally be together again. With a mix of eagerness and affection, you make your way towards his door, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of being reunited with him.

You enter the apartment, the familiar surroundings of Hugh's home welcoming you back. However, you're somewhat bewildered to find the main living room empty. The absence of Hugh's presence prompts a moment of confusion as you wonder where he might be.

Your footsteps lead you down the stairs and into the well-equipped gym area. There, you spot Hugh engrossed in a workout session, his muscles rippling as he moves with determination and focus. The sight of him, in all his ruggedly handsome and dedicated glory, sparks a wave of affection and admiration within you, “damn.”

Hugh looks up at the sound of your voice, his intense workout broken momentarily. Noticing your gaze, a sly smile appears on his face. He pauses, breathing heavily, and responds with a hint of amusement, "See something you like, darling?"

Still panting slightly from his workout, Hugh gazes at you appreciatively as you settle down on the bench beside him, “very much.”

His eyes roam over your form, admiring the way your figure moves and the soft smile that curves your lips.

He looks at you with a mix of playfulness and desire, his voice laced with a hint of suggestion. "So, you've been checking me out, have you?"

“Baby, I check you out every day.”

Hugh lets out a soft chuckle, his expression a mix of satisfaction and affection. "Is that right?" he teases.

He moves a little, shifting his position to face you better, his eyes never leaving yours. "Well then, I must be doing something right if I get to be your daily eye candy," he responds, his voice low and flirtatious.

As you lean in to capture his lips in a kiss, Hugh gently stops you, his tone laced with concern. "Careful, love," he cautions, his words tinged with a hint of warning. "I'm all sweaty from working out. Don't want you getting all dirty."

Hugh can't help but smirk at your brief pout, finding your playful display of disappointment endearing, “are you going to shower?”

He nods in response, a sly smile tugging at his lips, "Yes, But..." His gaze drifts down your figure admiringly before returning to your eyes, "You're welcome to join me, if you'd like."

“I’d love to.” Hugh's eyes follow your every movement as you discard your shirt, jeans, and saunter away in your alluring undergarments. Watching you walk away, he can't help but appreciate the view, his eyes tracing the curve of your form appreciatively.

As you move towards the shower, he calls out, his voice laced with a hint of playfulness, "I'll be there in a minute. Don't start without me, darling."

As you stand amidst the hot shower stream, the bathroom begins to fill with steam, creating a slightly hazy ambiance that adds to the intimate setting. You take your finger and write a heart on the foggy mirror. The simple gesture is a silent declaration of affection, a gesture that's as subtle as it is sweet.

The sound of footsteps approaching the bathroom door lets you know Hugh is on his way.

When Hugh enters the bathroom, his presence immediately fills the space. He loses no time discarding his shorts, revealing his muscular frame as he steps under the shower's inviting spray. You take the opportunity to join him, the water already warm and welcoming.

Naked, you stepped into the shower, joining Hugh under the warm spray. He turned to face you, his eyes darkening with desire. The water beaded on his skin, making his muscles glisten even more.

"You look incredible," he murmured, reaching out to trace a finger along your collarbone. "I've been thinking about you all day."

You leaned into his touch, your body pressing against his. The heat from the shower enveloped you both, intensifying the moment. His hand traveled down your arm, sending shivers down your spine, before cupping your breast. His thumb brushed over your nipple, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"Mmm, Hugh," you moaned, arching into his touch. "You feel so good."

He grinned, his eyes filled with lust. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this. Feels like I haven’t seen you in weeks."

With that, he lowered his head and took your nipple into his warm, wet mouth. His tongue swirled around the sensitive peak, sucking gently, then harder as your breath quickened. His other hand slid down your body, fingers teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

You gasped, gripping his shoulders, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath your fingers. The hot water cascaded over you both, mixing with the sweat and desire building between you.

"Oh, God," you whispered, your head falling back as he continued to tease and suckle your breasts.

Hugh's hand reaches down to your core, his fingers sliding through your wetness, easily finding your clit. He rubbed slow circles, building the tension as he continued to pleasure your breasts with his mouth.

Your knees weakened as the pleasure intensified. You leaned against the shower wall, letting the water run down your back, as Hugh's skilled fingers brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it, baby," he whispered between kisses and licks. "Let go, let me feel you come."

His words were like a command, and your body obeyed, shuddering as the orgasm hit. You cried out, your fingers tightening on his shoulders, as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

Hugh didn't let up, continuing to stroke and tease, drawing out your climax until you were sure you couldn't take any more. Finally, he pulled away, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction.

"You're incredible," he said, his voice hoarse with desire. "I've wanted to taste you for so long."

You smiled, still catching your breath. "And I've wanted to feel your touch. You have no idea how good that felt."

He grinned, his eyes never leaving yours. "Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea." Then, without warning, he lifted you up, pressing you against the shower wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and you felt the hard length of his erection against your core.

"Hugh, wait," you panted, even as your body craved his. "We should use protection. We’ve been playing with our luck lately."

He chuckled, his breath hot against your neck. "Don't worry, I'm prepared."

With that, he reached for the condom packet that was sitting in the shower shelve. Hugh sends a playful wink in your direction. You laughed, realizing he had planned this moment, and your desire for him intensified.

He tore open the packet with his teeth, his movements confident and swift. In seconds, he sheathed himself, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

You nodded, your heart pounding. "I've been ready since I saw you."

Hugh positioned himself at your entrance, his hands gripping your thighs. Slowly, he pushed forward, filling you inch by inch. You gasped, feeling stretched and deliciously full as he slid deep inside.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groaned, his eyes closing momentarily as he savored the sensation.

He began to move, his hips thrusting in a slow, steady rhythm. The hot water continued to cascade over you both, adding to the sensual experience. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure built.

"Yes, Hugh," you moaned, meeting his thrusts with your own. "Fuck me, harder."

He obliged, his movements becoming more urgent, his hips slamming into yours. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the shower, mingling with your heated breaths and moans.

You felt yourself climbing towards another peak, your body responding to his every stroke. Hugh's hands gripped your waist, holding you firmly as he pounded into you, his desire evident in every thrust.

"Come for me, baby," he growled, his voice thick with need. "Let me feel you squeeze around me."

Your climax hit you like a wave, crashing over you as you cried out his name. Hugh's own release followed, his body tensing as he filled the condom with his hot seed.

Breathless and satisfied, you stayed locked together, the water washing over you, cooling your heated skin. Hugh's lips found yours, and you kissed passionately, tasting each other, sharing the intimacy of the moment.

As the shower began to cool, you reluctantly pulled apart, stepping out into the steamy bathroom. Hugh wrapped a towel around your shoulders, his eyes filled with affection.

After your steamy shower with Hugh, you make your way into the kitchen, feeling refreshed and invigorated. Your hair, still damp from the shower, hangs in loose, wet strands around your face. The scent of your shared moment together still lingered in the air, adding a subtle hint of intimacy to the room.

You move around the kitchen with a sense of ease and familiarity, your fingers tracing over the smooth countertops as you hum snippets of your songs under your breath. The melody of your voice fills the room, a soft and soothing sound. The water in your glass ripples gently with each syllable you hum, creating delicate waves that match your gentle tunes.

You let out a small gasp, surprised to find Hugh's daughter, Ava, quietly settled at the kitchen bar. Your heart jumps in your chest at the unexpected sight, and you immediately scold yourself for letting her slip by unnoticed.

"Ava, you scared me," you exclaimed, your hand going to your chest as if to calm the racing beat of your heart. She looks at you with disapproval, “I’ve been here for like, 20 minutes.”

You let out a small laugh at her blunt comment, your heart rate slowly returning to normal. "Really?" you respond, your tone light-hearted. "I didn't even notice. You're stealthy."

“You were busy,” You catch the hint of sarcasm in her subtle smile and respond with a small nod. "Yeah, I guess I was," you admit, not wanting to provoke any tension.

Hugh emerges from his previous activity of getting dressed and walks into the kitchen, a soft smile gracing his lips as he sees his daughter, Ava, sitting at the bar.

"Hey there, sweetie," he says, his voice warm and affectionate. "What are you doing here so late?"

“Your house is closer to the show than moms. Dannie and Jenna are going to pick me up here tomorrow,” Ava looks to you, “think you could get us some backstage passes?”

Under normal circumstances, you might have responded with a polite but firm "no." But there was something different this time. Hugh's hopeful, almost pleading expression stirs something within you, making you reconsider your response. You know he values spending time with his daughters, and if getting them backstage passes would make him happy, it felt like a small price to pay.

You take a deep breath, meeting Hugh's eyes once more, and respond with a nod. "Yeah, I can probably arrange that."

Your response visibly pleases Ava, and she gives a slight smirk, her voice laced with a hint of satisfaction. "Thanks," she replies, her tone softer this time. "Jenna just really looks up to you, and it's her birthday.”

Hugh looks at his daughter, a mix of proud father and amused at her bluntness. He then turns to you with an appreciative smile, silently expressing his gratitude for your decision.

Hugh's heartwarming smile widens as he looks between you and his daughter, a twinkle of affection in his eyes. "My two favorite girls," he repeats, his voice holding a soft and warm tone.

He places a gentle hand on Ava's shoulder and then gently touches yours, his fingers brushing against your skin for a moment, the subtle gesture filled with tenderness.

“You’re still coming too right?” You asked Hugh, “Because Victoria's Secret sent over the final version of the Wolverine dress.”

Hugh's eyes light up with genuine interest at your mention of the Wolverine dress. He chuckles lightly at your question and quickly reassures you. "Of course, I'm coming," he responds eagerly. "There's no way I'd miss seeing the final version of that Wolverine dress. Victoria's Secret?"

You shrug, “They’re going to do all the outfits for tour. They wanted to do something special for my last show before the Short n’ Sweet Tour.”

Your statement sparks a look of slight surprise on Hugh's face. He arches an eyebrow at the news, his interest piqued. "Really? Victoria's Secret is doing all the outfits for your tour?" he asks, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Ava's action doesn't go unnoticed, her eye roll and the movement to the couch is subtle but telling. She appears to be distancing herself from the conversation.

Hugh glances over at his daughter, a hint of concern flitting across his face momentarily. However, he chooses not to comment on it directly, his focus quickly returning to your conversation about the tour.

You felt the tension in the air, a sense that you might be overstepping. Wanting to leave on a positive note, you lean into Hugh, your lips touching his in a soft kiss. When you pull back, you speak to him, your voice gentle yet filled with a hint of resignation.

"I think I should go," you murmur softly. "I'll see you tomorrow?" Hugh responds to your kiss, his lips meeting yours in a loving embrace. He pulls back gently, his gaze holding a hint of disappointment, but he nods, understanding your cue to leave.

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow," he replies, his voice sincere yet slightly reluctant to see you go so soon.

Hugh's declaration of love reaches your ears just as you're about to step out the door, “I love you!” You stop and turn to face him, your heart swelling with affection. You respond with a soft smile and a gentle "I love you too."

You then direct your gaze to Ava, who is sitting on the couch, her expression showing a hint of disapproval. Still, you smile warmly at her. "See you tomorrow, Ava," you say, your words filled with politeness before exiting the room.

You sit comfortably in your makeup chair, chatting casually with Megan while the makeup artist works his magic on your face. The room is filled with the usual atmosphere of makeup artists readying their models for the show, creating a familiar and somewhat comforting ambiance.

You confide in Megan, sharing your recent experience. "It was just weird," you say, your words revealing your confusion and some lingering frustration. "Ava doesn't like me at all," you continue, your voice tinged with a hint of disappointment.

Megan listens attentively to your words, her eyes studying your face as she offers a sympathetic smile. "Maybe she's just protective of her dad," she suggests, trying to offer a possible explanation for Ava's behavior.

“Oscar isn’t! He treats me like we’re friends. Sends me memes and TikTok’s and shit. Ava just looks at me like I should burn in hell.”

Megan lets out a small chuckle at your comparison between the siblings' reactions to you. "That's because Oscar's cool," she remarks with a nod. "Like his dad."

She then goes on to address your feelings about Ava. "Maybe it's just a 'girl thing,'" she muses, her tone thoughtful. "Girls are weird. Especially when their dads find someone new."

You can't help but blush at Megan's blunt compliment. She follows up her earlier comment with a cheeky grin and a nudge.

"Not to mention you're a young, hot, sexy pop star," she repeats, emphasizing each adjective with a playful wink. "You've got it all going on. Talented, good-looking, successful. Some girls might feel threatened by that."

A hint of frustration mixes with your words as you respond to Megan. "I'm not trying to play stepmom either," you emphasize, your voice laced with irritation. "I just wish she wouldn't look at me like I ruined her whole day every time I'm there."

Megan holds up two dresses, one with Deadpool's signature red and black design, the other a strong and sexy Wolverine theme. She grins at you, a sly hint in her eyes. “Stop worrying about the 18-year-old and focus on your show, please. Now pick.”

"Red first," you state, your tone playful. "Then we'll switch to Wolverine for the second half."

You emerge from your dressing room in the eye-catching red Deadpool bodysuit. The fabric hugs your body in all the right places, accentuating your figure with a sexy yet badass demeanor. As you step out, the people backstage turn their heads, their eyes drinking in the sight of you in your new outfit.

The moment you walk out on stage, the crowd erupts into applause and cheers. Your presence sends a wave of excitement through the audience. The lights are bright and the music pumps through the venue, adding to the energy of the moment.

You reach your mic and the crowd's response only gets louder.

The words flow out of your mouth effortlessly, and the crowd responds with a wave of cheering. Your greeting is met with a mix of enthusiastic shouts and whistles.

You continue, your voice carrying out over the expanse of the venue. "Hey there! How’s everyone doing?"

Your playful remark referencing Deadpool's witty humor garners a wave of laughter and applause from the audience. The joke is timed perfectly and it's clear they love your nod to the character.

"I hope you like my outfit," you add, a smirk on your face. "Can't let them see them see me bleed, right?"

Your performance that evening is a blend of nostalgia and excitement for the future. You sing some of your favorite songs from previous albums, and the crowd sings along enthusiastically. The atmosphere is electric, fueled by a mix of memories and anticipation for what lies ahead.

You sing half of the previous album, a beautiful and emotional send-off to your old material. However, at the end, you hint at your upcoming tour with the mention of starting to sell tickets for the Short n’ Sweet tour in a few months. The crowd responds with cheers and applause, the anticipation in the air palpable.

After a short break, you emerge from backstage now dressed as Wolverine, fake claws attached to your hands. You make a grand entrance on stage, making a spectacle of it all. The cameras capture your every move, but not before panning over to Hugh in the audience.

The stage lights reflect in Hugh's eyes as the camera finds him in the crowd, his gaze fixed on you as you walk out. You can see a mix of surprise, excitement, and undeniable admiration on his face.

You deliver the final lines of Nonsense, your voice carrying out over the crowd. The reference to Deadpool and your description of a "jacked man" in a Honda spark knowing laughter from the audience.

"Sorry Deadpool," you exclaim, not without a hint of sass. "I stole your best friend. I rode in the Honda last weekend. He's so huge, just like a jacked man."

You then continue with the final lyric, "If you haven't seen the movie yet, you're not a real fan."

You wave your final goodbye to the audience, their cheers and applause following you as you step off stage. The adrenaline of the performance still pumps through your veins, and you make your way backstage.

As you emerge, you notice Ava and her friends waiting in the wings, their excited faces and the backstage passes they're holding a clear indication that they were enjoying their privileges.

You approach the group, your smile warm and genuine as the girls' reactions vary. Jenna and Dannie clearly admire you and seem thrilled to be there, while Ava maintains her reserved demeanor.

"Hi girls!" you greet them cheerfully. "You all enjoyed the show?"

Your warm smile deepens as you respond to Jenna's gratitude. "Of course! I'm glad you had a great time."

Dannie also chimes in with her own appreciation. "Yeah, it was amazing!" she agrees, her voice filled with genuine excitement.

Ava stands there silently, her face impassive as she listens to her friends gushing over your performance.

“Was that last part necessary?” Ava's blunt comment breaks the flow of the conversation, and you look at her, a mix of surprise and slight defensiveness crossing your face.

"You mean the references?" you ask, your tone a bit sharp. She shrugs, “just seemed kinda explicit. Even for you.” Ava's response triggers a brief tension between you. Your forced smile belies your annoyance as you respond, "I'm sorry you feel that way. Seems a lot of other people felt differently."

You take a subtle dig at her, reminding her that the audience, her friends, and her own father, seemed to enjoy it.

Hugh's sudden arrival catches you off guard, but the feeling of his arms wrapping around you is warm and reassuring. You lean back into his embrace, finding comfort in his presence.

As he holds you, you can’t help but notice Ava and her friends watching the moment with varying reactions. Ryan and Blake approached you, their smiles widened and their eyes sparkling with excitement. Ryan was the first to speak, his tone light-hearted and playful.

"Can I borrow that suit for the next red carpet?" he asks, his words tinged with a hint of admiration for your Wolverine costume.

You meet Ryan's request with a smirk, shaking your head in a playfully coy manner. "Nope, sorry, Ryan," you respond, your tone laced with a hint of sass. "I'm attached to it now."

Ryan feigns disappointment, while Blake laughs at the interaction.

You take the time to pose for pictures with Jenna, Dannie, and Ava. Jenna and Dannie appear excited and enthusiastic, but Ava tries to maintain a neutral expression. Despite the tension you feel, you make an effort to be polite and pleasant.

With the pictures taken, the girls bid their goodbyes and leave, the backstage area becoming slightly quieter with their departure.

Hugh follows you into your dressing room, sensing the tension you've been holding. As you collapse onto the couch, a sigh of relief escapes your lips.

Hugh takes a seat next to you, his presence offering a sense of comfort. He gently reaches out, his hand finding yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You okay?" he asks, his voice calm and full of concern.

Sitting there with Hugh, you're aware of the delicate situation you're in. You want to address Ava’s treatment of you, but you're also mindful of not overstepping boundaries or causing tension. You remain silent for a moment, contemplating how to approach the subject.

Hugh's hand is warm in yours, a reminder of his presence and support. He seems to sense your internal struggle and gives your hand another squeeze, encouraging you to speak your mind.

“I'm going to start by saying, I think your kids are great. Oscar is so funny and nice and Ava is so smart and beautiful and outgoing…”

Hugh's expression turns slightly worried as you begin your statement, complimenting his children. "Thank you," he responds, appreciating your words about Oscar and Ava. However, when he sees the 'but' coming, his brows furrow in anticipation.

"But...?" he prompts, encouraging you to continue. Your blunt question hangs in the air for a moment, and you can see Hugh processing your words. He gives your hand another reassuring squeeze, his expression turning empathetic.

"It's not that she hates you," he replies, his tone gentle yet firm. "It just might take some time for her to adjust to the situation."

Your gaze locks with Hugh's, and you feel the seriousness of the situation weighing on you. His attempts to downplay it only seem to increase your conviction.

"I really think," you repeat, emphasis in your tone, "it's just because she hates me." Your words hang in the air, a challenge to Hugh to address the issue head-on.

Hugh's expression falters a bit at your firm response; you can see the conflict in his eyes. He looks like he wants to protest, but your conviction pushes him to finally confront the issue.

He takes a moment before responding, his tone measured. "She doesn't hate you," he says again, but this time it sounds like more of a plea than a statement of fact.

“Then what do you suggest I do? Keep ignoring her rude comments?” Your scoff echoes through the room, and Hugh listens intently, his expression a mix of helplessness and concern.

He hesitates before responding, clearly struggling with how to approach the situation. "No," he says, shaking his head. "But maybe give her some space. You should know exactly how immature teenagers can be."

Your mind catches onto the way Hugh’s tone dips and the use of the word 'teenager'. You find yourself getting increasingly frustrated with how he seems to downplay Ava’s behavior.

"What are you trying to say?" you repeat, your voice a bit sharper as you look at him with a mixture of annoyance and confusion.

Hugh seems to shrink back a bit, recognizing the growing intensity in your voice.

"I’m just saying…" he starts, his voice trailing off as he tries to find the right way to say this. "this is a delicate situation. You have to be the mature one.” Your confusion and frustration reach a new high. You stare at Hugh, still unable to believe his words.

"Seriously?" you echo, almost sarcastically. "Me? Mature? I’m trying my best here, Hugh."

“Well try harder. You’re going to have to understand what the dynamics are dealing with this. You’re too young to fully comprehend-“ Your laughter cuts off Hugh's words, and your voice rises in volume. "Hold on a second," you protest, your irritation clear in your tone. "I'm too young?”

The dismissal in his words and the patronizing way he's speaking to you only adds fuel to the fire. You leap to your feet, your emotions boiling over as you glare at Hugh, who still sits on the couch, looking up at you.

"I’m not some child," you snap, your voice crackling with anger. "I've been in the public eye, dealing with fans, media, paparazzi since I was a teenager. I know how to show respect to others. Something Ava clearly doesn’t understand.'"

Hugh's expression hardens as you confront him, his confusion mixing with a hint of anger. He rises slowly from the couch, matching your glare.

“Don’t talk about my daughter like that,” he snaps back, his voice filled with protective edge. “Then don’t let her talk about your girlfriend like she does.”

Your words seem to hit a sore spot in Hugh, his expression wavering between anger and frustration. He runs a hand through his hair, the stress evident on his face.

"It's not that simple, okay?" he retorts, his voice taut with defensiveness.

You let your sass show through as you roll your eyes and start removing your boots. Hugh watches you, still bristling with frustration.

Your voice a mix of annoyance and exhaustion. "I have to get changed."

Hugh lets out a deep sigh, the tension in the air palpable. As you start to change, Hugh continues to stand there, his thoughts clearly swirling in his head, the argument still hanging between you like a dark cloud.

You make quick work of changing into your regular clothes, each movement fueled by impatience and anger. As you change, you can feel Hugh’s eyes on you, his gaze still filled with frustration.

The silence in the room only intensifies the tension between you. Hugh watches you silently, his eyes fixated on your movements, his mind still processing the argument.

“I’ll call you tomorrow?” Hugh’s gentle question hangs in the air, but you dismiss it with a shrug, disappearing behind the changing curtain. You’re fully aware of your behavior, but you can’t help it; your feelings are hurt and he’s not making the effort to understand.

As you change, your thoughts race with conflicting emotions. Maybe, just maybe, he’s right. Maybe you are too young to fully grasp the complexity of his family dynamics.

Once the door closes behind Hugh, you allow yourself a moment of vulnerability. Tears start to stream down your cheeks, the emotional release a result of the argument and the built-up tension.

You take a shaky breath as you stand behind the curtain in solitude, the empty room suddenly feeling very different without Hugh's presence.

💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋

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[lale-txt]

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 (𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟒: 𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞

♫ Adrienne Lenker - Angels

I don't really like you, I just wanna kiss you I don't know how to love you, but somedays, I miss you Oh I just wanna see you there, sleeping on my floor With the ache inside to ride the mighty wind and nothing more

✰ 𝐜𝐰: discovering more y/n lore in this one. implied child neglect (no detailed description), brief death mention but in a more lighthearted way (if that still squicks you skip the 8th slide of the convo between Makki & y/n) written part between the handwritten collage and SMAU parts.

⭅ back to m.list

Another sold out night. The lively sea of voices is slowly quieting down, familiar and new faces going either home or out dancing for the night. Onigiri Miya attracts all kinds of people, there’s a plate for everyone. He wouldn’t want it any other way. At the end of day, everyone needs to eat, no matter their background or story. And if they all collide in the tiny universe of his shop, even better.

There’s only around a handful people left when Osamu starts his nightly routine of cleaning and preparing for tomorrow. Ever since he opened his own shop, he understands his old captain a little better. Repetition, perseverance, and diligence–it does feel good. Helps him to unwind after a long day of shaping rice balls, mincing ingredients and ringing up orders. Wherever a hand is needed, he is there.

“It’s on the house,” Osamu says smiling, placing two cold bottles of ramune on the counter where Bokuto and Akaashi are sitting, huddled together like two lovebirds.

It’s the same spot where he saw her crying, her hands jittery when she wiped her cheeks, obviously flustered but unable to stop the tears from falling either. He could see how hard she tried to hold them back, the small wobble of her bottom lip, the clenching and unclenching of her fists. How she still took photos of her plate, clearly knowing which angle and lightning was best, practiced. The small gleam of excitement despite everything in her glassy eyes. Her palms pressed together in a silent gesture of appreciation after she finished her meal. Osamu couldn’t help but think that this wasn’t her first time holding her crown up like this, when everything inside of her was cracking. 

He hasn’t stopped thinking about her ever since. 

Not when he ran after her to find her on the empty playground, dimly lit by the light of the vending machine. Not when she hesitantly accepted the brown paper bag he shoved into her still trembling hands. Not when she kind of magically pulled out a box of the tastiest sweet treat he ever had in his entire life, her voice suddenly more calm once she started rambling about the process of making it.

Osamu felt drawn to her in a way he couldn’t fathom in words, like an invisible pull inside of him.

Had he been upset over her bad review? Maybe a little. But whatever hint of annoyance he felt when reading it over his morning tea quickly vanished once he dove deeper into her blog. There was so much love between every line she wrote. She was witty and smart and always a little hungry; for life and the next plate in front of her. He found himself nodding along when she shared about her experience in culinary school and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of deep admiration for her openness about mental health and the cruel sides of working in food service. Osamu knew best how grueling it can be, striving to do better. 

Three whole days. That’s how long it took him to read through her entire blog, more than ten years of her life. He read it over breakfast, in between short breaks at work, leaning against the backdoor while waiting for the daily delivery, at night when he brushed his teeth. Several times he told himself that he should just close the damn tab, that it was just a drunk and petty review and that they’ll never cross paths again.

Here lay the problem though–he wanted to see her again. 

Preferably when she was not upset over something (or worse: him), but honestly any scenario would do. The cap she forgot at his shop is now hanging from his coat rack at home, silently greeting him every night after work. He can’t help but wonder if she’ll really come around again one day to pick it up. Osamu was no dick, just a little petty himself, and he'd send the cap off with her roommate Akaashi if there was no way in hell that she’d ever return to Osaka again. But when she unblocked and followed him on Twitter the other night, that must have been a glimmer of hope, right? Even though she’s been mostly hostile so far in her replies.

But they’d get there. 

Some day.

Probably.

“Samu? Saaamuuuu?” 

Osamu blinks out of his daze and realizes that not only has he been polishing the same glass for five minutes straight now, but Bokuto is also leaning over the counter, shoving a phone under Osamu’s nose for him to see. He throws the kitchen towel over his shoulder and takes it, eyes on the bright screen. 

“Look, look,” Bokuto urges him with a grin while Akaashi next to him smiles a bit more subtle, but knowingly. “Keiji just talked about how they were having a barbeque a few days ago on their rooftop. Y/N prepared a feast for them, see?”

The photo is bright and colorful, a whole arrangement of various small plates assembled on the table, each holding some delicacy. Dips, grilled veggies, pita (which looks like it was handmade), olives, stuffed peppers, a small cheese platter, cut fruit, pastel purple drinks (lavender syrup, Osamu remembers)... but what Osamu ends up zooming in is not the food but her, sitting at the table with the sleeves of her oversized shirt rolled up casually and smiling brighter than the late summer sun–wearing his cap.

No. No, no, no. 

His heart did not just skip a beat, no fucking way. 

Oh, he was in deep. 

“She won’t admit it, but she likes it,” Akaashi says as if he read Osamu’s thoughts. He hands the phone back to him and a small voice in the back of his head is tempted to ask for the photo, just so he can stare at it a little longer (for the food, he lies to himself), but he knows she wouldn’t want that. Osamu is not sure if he wants it, either. It doesn’t feel right. Maybe he can get her an Onigiri Miya shirt as well as a matching apron and snap his own photo one day, and then… 

Fuck.

What was he even thinking?

But the stupid, wide smile on his face just won’t falter.

✽ 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫…

like i said, this chapter is a love letter to Makki in disguise

y/n would spend all big holidays at the Hanamaki family home, even her own birthday would be celebrated there lovingly

she has gone no contact with her birth family after she graduated from high school

the cooking TV show has been one of the most stressful events in her entire life and she still can't watch clips from it without wanting to die from cringe (she did really great though)

her approach to anything in life is a constant "oh shit oh no oh bad bad bad" and "fuck it we ball" and it amazingly works for her. most of the time.

y/n always leaves some money on the table when she's gone for longer than 24h because she is afraid the food in the fridge might not be enough (it's always enough)

no one of the roommates knows where the Hello Kitty condoms came from but they've been a staple in this household ever since

also a first Osamu POV!! i was waiting to finally write this

Akaashi is PLOTTING isn't he

y/n was very tempted to deep fry the cap but then came to the conclusion that it would be a waste of oil probably

or maybe she's just lying to herself. we'll get more into this later

✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@brithedemonspawn @gigiiiiislife @yuminako @notverymarley @krissiekris

@wyrcan @kentocalls @simp-simp-no-mi @uncovered-mad-man @honey-deku

@yukichan67 @dailyakira @nu-suave @zq13 @morgan-lowell

@ellouisa17 @toges-cough-syrup

send me an ask or dm to be added (or removed, no hard feelings ♡)! minors DNI!

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive (Daily updates!)

At a Glance ~Researchers found that current COVID-19 vaccines fail to generate mature and durable antibody-producing cells in the bone marrow. ~The findings could help explain why protection tends to decline over time. ~Better understanding of long-term immune responses could lead to improved vaccines that provide enduring protection.

Some vaccines offer long-lasting protection. For instance, the tetanus vaccine provides protection for at least 10 years. With other vaccines, protection may begin to decline within a few months. To provide enduring immunity, a vaccine must elicit production of long-lived plasma cells, a type of immune cell that matures over time in the bone marrow and can rapidly trigger production of disease-fighting antibodies.

The mRNA vaccines developed for the SARS-CoV-2 virus have proven effective at preventing severe COVID-19 and reducing hospitalizations. These vaccines trigger production of antibodies that home in on the virus’s spike protein. But protective antibodies can begin to fade as soon as three months later and lead to breakthrough infections. Researchers have been puzzled by this waning protection, since SARS-CoV-2-specific immune cells can often be found in the bone marrow.

To better understand why protection against SARS-CoV-2 dwindles months after vaccination, a research team led by Dr. F. Eun-Hyung Lee of Emory University took a closer look at immune cells in the bone marrow of 19 healthy adults. Participants ranged in age from 20 to 65. All had previously received between two and five doses of mRNA COVID-19 vaccines. Samples of their bone marrow were evaluated within 33 months after receiving their initial COVID-19 vaccine shot.

The participants had also received an influenza vaccine within a year of giving their bone marrow samples. And all had previously received tetanus shots and boosters. Their responses to these previous vaccines were used for comparison.

The researchers used a cell-sorting technique called flow cytometry to separate each participant’s bone marrow immune cells into different groupings. These included short-lived antibody-secreting cells and long-lived plasma cells that confer lasting protection. Results appeared in Nature Medicine on September 27, 2024.

The scientists found that they could readily detect long-lived plasma cells that target tetanus and influenza. In contrast, while shorter-lived antibody-secreting cells specific to SARS-CoV-2 were abundant, long-lived ones were mostly absent. Even among five participants who had recent SARS-CoV-2 infections and vaccinations, long-lived plasma cells against the virus were scarce in the bone marrow samples.

The findings hint that newly created antibody-secreting cells against SARS-CoV-2 are unable to become fully mature and long-lasting once they reach and settle into the bone marrow. In contrast, vaccines against tetanus and influenza prompt antibody-producing cells to mature within bone marrow and become long-lived plasma cells. Future studies will need to investigate how to generate long-lived plasma cells against SARS-CoV-2.

“The holy grail of vaccine researchers is the generation of long-lived plasma cells,” Lee says. “Our findings demonstrate that current SARS-CoV-2 mRNA vaccines do not provide such long-lasting protection within bone marrow. Further research is needed to determine if updated vaccines, new delivery schedules, or other factors might provide such protection.”

—by Vicki Contie

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass 9 pt 1

masterpost

The first thing Danny did when he woke up was blink to focus on his breath. Nothing was visible. He vaulted up from his sprawl across the couch and prowled around the apartment, unnerved.

It felt like someone was here, or had been here. It was subtle, but there was a ghostly touch in the area. There shouldn’t be. He had confirmed that no one was haunting this building before they moved in. City ghosts tended to stay in their personal environment, whether that was sitting on a recliner in the apartment they’d died in or forever running a route in a ghostly version of the delivery van they’d worked in for decades. 

He investigated in increasingly paranoid detail, even daring to flick on a bit of smuggled Fenton tech to wave around in search of ecto.

“Whoever came by is gone,” Danny admitted. He stood in the middle of the dinky open plan apartment for a while feeling lost. Then the energy rush left him. He rubbed at his eyes and stretched a little, trying to work up a little bit of enthusiasm for the day. 

It was a Friday morning, not quite 5 am. Damn. He’d really adjusted his sleeping schedule. Jazz would be back from her overnight shift soon.

“I should make her breakfast,” Danny said, half-heartedly hoping that saying it aloud would magically compel and energize him. It didn’t. He eventually shuffled to the kitchen nook, pushed by duty and not any kind of internal motivation.

Jazz was the only one with a semi-legit identity. They hadn’t been able to pay for papers for both of them. Even though he was making the bulk of their money, they were pretty sure that Jazz needed some kind of legal justification for her income. 

Employment options were limited. Without qualifications, she was pretty much only looking at customer service, where hundreds of people would see her face every day. That was a nerve wracking prospect when they were hiding. They were serious enough about restarting that they had both trashed their lifelong career dreams. Jazz was studying friggin’ bridges and whatever, civil engineering. Danny didn’t even know what he would do when it was his turn to get a formal education.

So. Obviously. Standing in front of hundreds of people daily was not the best option for their desired level of anonymity.

Luckily, Gotham had a shitty fast food chain where the gimmick was that the employees were in costume. So Jazz had crammed her class load into Monday-Thursday and she worked overnight Thursday to Saturday nights every week, serving burgers up in a full face mask as a Black Bat. 

He decided to start with coffee. That might help.

Danny filled the water tank, put a filter in, and poured coffee beans in. Then he groaned, took the beans out, and resentfully put them into the dumb hand grinder. He put the powder back into the filter, pressed the button, and watched as nothing happened.

It took a while to notice that nothing was happening.

Jazz came home at 5:22, bringing with her a cloud of fry oil scent. He vaguely heard the door unlock and her kick off her shoes. She paused when she saw the disassembled coffee maker on their table. The old Jazz would have scolded him for making a mess where they ate. The high school version of her would have sighed about the mess.

The exhausted food service version of Jazz took it in stride. “I grabbed food,” she said. “Come on, couch.” She opened a cupboard door and took something out on tiptoes before shutting it near-silently. She put the food down to duck into the bathroom and take out her brown colored contacts.

Danny grunted. A few seconds later her words reached his brains. He blinked. “Right. Thanks,” he said belatedly. He put down his tools and washed his hands. “Should I grab utensils?” he called. He heard the sound of relief as Jazz sat on the couch, off her aching feet. 

“Yes, please.”

He yanked open the drawer, unintentionally making things clatter. Danny winced at the volume and picked out two forks. He grabbed a roll of paper towels and headed over to see what Jazz had brought home. 

She had two styrofoam boxes, clearly from a diner and not Batburger. Fair enough. They were both sick to death of their menu. 

Danny’s box had two pancakes, scrambled eggs, and a side of bacon. He glanced over to see that Jazz had the same thing with sausage instead of the bacon. The syrup was already on the coffee table.

The smell hit him like a freight train. Suddenly, Danny was ravenous. He tore through his eggs and bacon and then went for the syrup, drowning the pancakes. When he was done he put the box down with a sigh of relief and looked over to see that Jazz was slouching, hand thrown over her face. “Long day?” he asked.

Jazz groaned. “Leave me to die,” she begged. She slumped a little more, encroaching into his half of the sofa. Her dull brown hair coiled on the sofa cushion, dryer than it had ever been back in Amity.

Danny took the hint that she wanted the couch. He gathered up their trash and went back to the kitchen. He worked as quietly as he could on the coffee machine and wished his sister was home and awake more. 

If life was just like this, sort of hard but the two of them pulling together, it would be kind of…nice. There was a domestic fantasy element.

But the outside world was going to intrude. Danny put the coffeemaker together and then set it to run. While it worked, he went to the shitty plastic dresser that held his work clothes and changed into his underlayer of t-shirt and soft jogging pants. He stuffed a heavy jacket and thick jeans into a plastic bag and then put that in his work bag. He didn’t want to be late for work. Like, really didn’t want to be late for work. His supervisor coming to find him and meeting Jazz had featured in more than one nightmare. The people he worked for were just plain scary. Danny zipped his bag shut and then poured the entire pot of coffee into his thermos for the day. 

“I’m going,” he called quietly, on the off chance that Jazz was still awake. And then he left to see what the local gang needed built this week.

[totowlff]

chapter twenty — enough for us

➝ in the middle of the storm, toto reveal a new layer of himself to cassie

➝ word count: 3,4k

➝ warnings: mentions of childbirth and medical terms

➝ author’s note: the missing hours are over!

29 WEEKS Baby is running out of room in there, but you should still feel him squirming and moving regularly. If you haven't already, you should start doing daily kick counts once or even twice a day. On the symptoms front, varicose veins may be visible and your nails may be growing faster than usual.

Just a year ago, Cassie never saw herself having any reason to attend any sort of antenatal class, but here she was, sitting in one of the chairs arranged in a half-circle in a primary school classroom, eyes fixed on a table next to an easel. 

There were a few things on the table, including a scale, measuring tape, an assortment of baby items — most of which she had her own of, sitting in the nearly-finished nursery at Toto’s house — and a doll the approximate weight and size of a newborn, used by the instructor in lieu of an actual baby. 

  The idea to attend the classes had come from Cassie's obstetrician, who had recommended that both she and Toto attend childbirth classes to prepare for Cassie’s delivery and for the first few weeks after the baby arrived. Cassie had mentioned that she was becoming increasingly anxious at one of her appointments, and her anxiety was growing as Ingrid’s due date hurtled closer.

  She ended up choosing Bump & Baby Club, a sort of organization that taught parenting and prenatal classes across the UK. “They have a very modern approach to childbirth and newborn care,” her doctor said, “and they’re doing a lot of really good work”. When Cassie proposed the idea of attending the classes to Toto, he seemed excited about the idea — enthusiastic, even. So, she registered them for the October session, intended for couples with babies due in December.

 What neither of them remembered was that Toto would only be at home for a single week in October. The rest of the time, he would be away for the North American and Asian races. Cassie found the realization rather upsetting, even to the point of crying about how she was an idiot for forgetting something so important. 

  — Please don’t say that, Cassie. I forgot as well, it’s an honest mistake. We both have a lot going on, it can happen to anyone. I’ll just miss the first two classes, and I will absolutely be there for the rest of them — Toto said, enveloping Cassie in a comforting hug and kissing her delicately on the forehead. 

As such, Cassie felt strange going to the first class by herself. It was held in a primary school in Wood Farm, and there were many other couples there, each having a different background and coming from all walks of life. 

There were couples who had planned to have a child for years and others whose pregnancy had been a complete surprise. There were couples who were expecting their first baby, while others already had children. There was even a lesbian couple who had gotten pregnant through the IVF process, however, she was the only one that had come alone. 

“Not alone”, Cassie corrected herself, “Just not here with my partner”. She felt Ingrid move, almost like the baby felt like her presence was needed and that her mum needed some support. “Thank you, my love”, she thought, rubbing her belly with her hand.

The first night was an introduction to the doula, a woman with curly hair named Vicki. She explained how the classes would work, and then announced that it was time for everyone present to do a sort of introduction. They went around the circle, each couple introducing themselves in turn. As Cassie's turn approached, the more tense she felt, especially as she listened to the adorable stories of the other couples there.

— Cassandra, it's your turn — the woman leading the meeting said, with a gentle smile.

How would she explain the entire situation with her and Toto?

— Well, good evening — she said, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice — My name is Cassandra, but you can call me Cassie. I'm 29 weeks pregnant with my first baby and her name will be Ingrid.

— Was she planned? — Vicki asked. She was a very sweet woman. 

— In a way — she replied, forcing a smile.

— Tell us more, Cassie.

She would rather the ground open up and swallow her hole.

— Well, I... We actually wanted to have a child for some time and resorted to a round of IVF, but after our first failed attempt, we ended up conceiving naturally.

— Did you resort to fertilization due to problems with natural conception?

— Yeah… So to speak — Cassie replied.

— And how is your partner dealing with this? Actually, tell us more about him.

As strange as it might seem, asking to talk about Toto didn’t bother her in the least. Actually, she could talk about him all day. As she began to speak, her body felt light, and she could feel that she was grinning unconsciously.

— His name is Torger. He would love to be here, but he is on a business trip in Japan at the moment. He's very happy, excited about fatherhood and — Cassie paused for a few seconds, a tightness rising in her throat — I can't wait to see this side of him blossom.

— That's wonderful, Cassie — Vicki said, smiling — Many men and, in our case here, non-pregnant partners, feel disconnected from the women during pregnancy, largely because they don't have as active a role at this stage as who is actually carrying the baby. However, they are essential right now and we will talk more about this during our classes.

Cassie stopped listening to the doula a few seconds later, more focused on taking deep breaths and trying not to cry. The past few months had been the most beautiful of her life, and it wasn't just because she felt like a dream of hers that she’d long dared to not even consider was being fulfilled.

It was also about seeing Toto’s transformation up close.

He was not a young man by any means, and had dealt with a lot in his life, both personally and professionally. He had his own joys and sorrows, stories of overcoming and failure that had shaped his personality and character into something Cassie admired. However, nothing she already knew of him compared to seeing him change little by little from a normal man and into a father.

It was exciting to find Toto inside the nursery, which wasn't quite ready, looking at the things with a silly smile on his lips. It was also comforting to receive messages from him with articles about pregnancy and questions about how she was feeling - physically, or mentally. He did his best to do whatever he could for her when she was in pain, or feeling the emotional effects of the torrent of hormones, like bringing her pastries from halfway across the continent just because she had a craving. 

However, the best part for Cassie was hearing him talk to her bump. The way he laid his head on her lap and talked about the most banal subjects in the direction of her bulging abdomen made her feel a crushing sensation in her chest. Sometimes, in those moments, Cassie was unable to resist the urge to reach into his hair and play with the dark strands. They were just crumbs of intimacy, but ones she held on to.

He was able to come to the next class after he got back from Japan, and seemed incredibly eager about the entire thing.

— Cassie, what is hypnobirthing?

Cassie looked over to him where he was sitting in the chair next to her, completely focused on one of the leaflets she’d brought home from her antenatal class. He was devouring its contents, trying to catch up on what had previously been discussed in class.

  — It's a concentration method that can be used in labor — Cassie replied.

  — Does it help with the pain?

  — They say so.

  — Are you going to try it?

  — I don't know, actually. I haven't stopped to make the birth plan yet.

  He stared at her for a few seconds.

  — What is a birth plan?

  Cassie was about to explain until Vicki went to the easel, requesting the attention of everyone present.

— Good evening, how is everyone this evening? — the woman said, with a smile on her face — It's great to see you all here! I hope the last week has been good for everyone. Today we're going to talk about life after childbirth, or as I like to call it, the fourth trimester.

  Vicki approached the easel and flipped back the first sheet of the enormous paper pad, displaying a kind of infographic with four frames. Then, picking up a black marker, she turned to the couples again.

  — You must be wondering what the hell this fourth trimester is, if the obstetrician made a mistake in the calculations or if you forgot to pay attention at some point in our classes, but don't worry — she continued — The fourth trimester is an term created by Harvey Karp, a pediatrician, to describe a baby's first three months outside the womb.

  Cassie felt a touch on her arm. When looking to the side, she noticed that Toto was bringing his face closer to hers.

  — Have you ever heard of that?

  — No, not yet.

  — That’s good — he said, smiling — I thought I was late on that too.

  She smiled, looking back at Vicki.

— He created the theory that babies are born three months earlier than ideal, from a developmental point of view. However, if they are not born within nine months, they may not be able to pass through the birth canal in the case of a natural or normal birth. So they need to be born a little ahead of time, so to speak.

  — When does the fourth trimester begin? — one of the other mothers-to-be asked.

— As soon as they are born, Georgia. And it is nothing more than this three-month period in which the baby is adjusting to the world outside, finishing growing and developing. However, this is also the time when pregnant women are recovering from childbirth, no matter whether the baby is born vaginally or by cesarean.

Vicki flipped the paper over again, showing the silhouette of a woman drawn on white paper in red marker.

— In these three months, you need to keep in mind that, in addition to taking care of a new life that is not really ready to face this world, you will also be, or be taking care of, a person whose body is recovering from one of the most transformative experiences that she can go through — she said, while scribbling on the paper — The woman is dealing with a huge load of hormones, organs returning to their previous places, milk production, postpartum bleeding, and what I like to call “war wounds”, which can be a cut from the c-section or in the perineum, which can be incidental or intentional.

— Sounds scary — Toto muttered next to Cassie.

— I think so too — she replied.

— And you say you're not brave — he said. Cassie smiled. There was something powerful about hearing Toto say that she was the bravest woman he knew. It made her feel truly brave, even when she was scared.

— During this time period,your partner's support is essential, but we'll talk about that later. Now, let's talk about your little one — Vicki said, flipping over another page, revealing a drawing of a baby — Think that, if everything is new for you, it's even newer for them. Everything is very different, very challenging after leaving such a warm and comfortable environment. So, the first few days will basically involve intense adaptation. They will basically eat, sleep and soil diapers, so be prepared for that.

— I don't remember that in the contract I signed — one of the men commented, making the rest of the couples laugh. Vicki giggled too.

— Of course it doesn't seem very exciting, but seeing them develop, day after day, is something really special. They will gradually stop being that tiny that you took home. They will gain weight, more muscle control and strength, in addition to learning to identify you with their eyes and not just your voice, and they will even be able to respond to stimuli made by you with smiles.

The thought of Ingrid smiling at Toto made something warm fill Cassie's chest. If their relationship at that moment was already strong, she couldn't imagine what it would be like when she was really with them. “She's probably going to be the most spoiled girl in the world”, Cassie said to herself, placing a hand on her belly.

— However, don't think that, after these 12 weeks, things will have returned to normal and everything will be perfect. Adapting to life with a baby is a gradual process that takes a lot longer. And fatherhood, as Heidi and Brad can tell us, changes us completely, doesn't it?

— Yes — Brad said, smiling.

— You become a completely different person, but, over time, you manage to reconnect with that person you used to be. But honestly, I don't miss the Heidi I used to have. I feel that Charlie came to add to our lives, and now, with our little boy arriving, we're going to learn even more.

Vicki smiled before moving on to the next topic, which talked about how to prepare the environment for your baby to feel more comfortable during the fourth trimester. During the explanation, she answered some of Toto's questions, regarding terms that had been discussed at other times, such as Kegels, meconium, fontanelle and jaundice. She didn't mind explaining quickly, but at some point in class, Cassie noticed that he didn't seem as comfortable as he had been before.

The class continued with more lessons on caring for newborns, who, according to Vicki, would have difficulty differentiating between days and nights. However, there was a practical portion of the class, when they had to put swaddling and wrapping techniques into practice using a doll. Seeing Toto with their “daughter” placed firmly against his chest made her smile. That glimpse of the rest of her life was probably the most beautiful thing she had seen.

— Is this right? — he asked, looking up at Cassie with an uncertain expression.

— It has to be in a sitting position, with the knees above the butt — she explained while adjusting the doll's legs, which were positioned incorrectly — The chin is very close to the chest, you have to move it away so it does not suffocate.

Watching her adjust the doll’s posture, Toto pursed his lips.

— Is the position of the body good, at least?

She evaluated it for a few seconds.

— It's lower than it should be, you have to be able to kiss the baby's head easily — Cassie found out, lifting the fabric so that the doll was positioned closer to Toto's face. A few seconds later, he tilted his head slightly, confirming that he could touch his lips to the plastic head, which made her smile.

At the end of the class, the two of them spoke to some couples for a few minutes before leaving. The way back to his house was filled only with the sound of the car's engine, until, at a red light, Cassie spoke up.

— What did you think of the class?

Toto's fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

— It was good — he replied, with his eyes fixed on the traffic light.

— I hope I was able to answer your questions, it's a little complicated to do this during class, but...

— It's okay — Toto murmured, shortly.

The way he said it made Cassie feel uncomfortable. She began reviewing her actions, trying to find anything she could have said or done that would have made him upset with her. “Was it because I corrected the doll’s position?”, she asked herself, looking at her own hands, which were on her belly.

Toto crossed the intersection as soon as the light turned green. However, after a few meters, he turned the steering wheel to the left and stopped the car close to the curb, turning it off a few seconds later. Then, he turned on the indoor light, meeting Cassie's confused gaze.

— Do you think I'll be a good father?

She remained silent for a few seconds.

— Why are you asking…

He snorted, cutting Cassie off.

— When you told me about your intention to become a mother, I was thinking about what it would be like for this child to grow up without the presence of a father figure, like I did. That's what motivated me to offer myself to participate in this endeavor, you know? — Toto said, running a nervous hand through his hair — But now, with Ingrid on the way, things are getting real, I realize that I won't be able to avoid this.

— Avoid what?

— Her growing up without her father around.

It felt like Cassie had been punched.

— But you'll be around — she stammered.

— How? I don't know any of the terms they said today. I don't know how to do any of the techniques, I can’t even hold a stupid doll properly! — Toto exclaimed — And all because I can't be there and I won't be able to be there when Ingrid is here.

— Toto, please…

— I didn't want that for her, Cassie. Ingrid deserves more than that — he continued, his eyes wet — She deserves to have a better father than I had.

Toto lowered his head, allowing the tears to stream down his face. At that point, Cassie was also doing her best to hold back on crying herself, but it was difficult. They had discussed the unique peculiarities of each of their childhoods, especially regarding the absence of their parents in both their lives. However, he had never spoken about being afraid of being like his father as openly as he did at that moment.

Bringing her hands up to Toto's cheeks, Cassie made him look up. There was a fragility there  that she had never seen from Toto ; as open as he was about his own emotional and mental issues, it was as if she was able to see a new side of him. For a few seconds, she just looked into his eyes, while she fought against the tightness in her throat to say what seemed obvious to her.

— You’re going to be a better father than you had, I know it.

He glanced at her skeptically.

— How do you know that?

— Because you’re you. That's enough, both for me and for Ingrid.

Toto closed his eyes, more tears streaming down his face.

— I knew, from the beginning, that you would have to be away for work a lot. I accepted your offer knowing that — Cassie explained, her voice breaking — However, distance and time zones mean nothing when you show yourself present in other ways. Your care for me, the way you’ve taken care of me, even when you’re not here, has been clear. You are always with me, and that is what matters.

— I don't want her to grow up without me, Cassie...

— Ingrid won't grow up without you. Next thing you know, she'll be asking to sit in your lap, not mine. She will be asking for your hugs, your goodnight kisses and not mine. I'm sure she'll love you as much as — she continued, hesitating to finish the sentence. She couldn’t bear to do it.

Toto leaned toward her, and for a second, she thought he was going to kiss her. And in that second, Cassie realized how much she wanted to kiss him. However, the team principal simply placed his forehead against hers, letting out a sigh. A few seconds later, she continued.

— You know that being present means nothing if you don’t love your child. My father was always around during my childhood and he was never affectionate with me — Cassie whispered, her thumbs caressing his cheeks — I don't think I ever heard him say he loved me, and I know that Ingrid will never go through that, because you've loved her since before she existed. You've loved her since the day she was just an idea.

Her voice broke, her eyes filling with tears as she remembered the way Toto whispered, after the transfer, that she already loved that baby without even knowing him. The embryo ended up not being successful, but, in a way, it ended up being the catalyst for Ingrid to be conceived, almost seven months earlier.

After a few more beats of silence, Toto finally spoke up.

— Promise me something?

— Anything — Cassie replied.

— I'm going to do everything I can to be a better father than mine or yours. But please promise me you'll tell me if I'm failing our little girl. Promise me that you will ask me for help, that you will fight with me if necessary. Promise me we won't be like our parents.

A small smile appeared on her face, her nose lightly brushing his.

— I promise, Toto.