#husband!anton x reader

[riecoeur]

melody of us.

pairing — husband!anton x fem!reader

summary — anton’s first solo mini-album has just dropped, and every note, every lyric, is a piece of your life together woven into sound. as his wife, you’ve watched him pour his heart into this project while balancing his schedules with riize, late-night studio sessions, and quiet moments with you. the album tells your story about how you met, the way he fell for you, the little quirks he adores, and the promises he’s made. one evening, he sits you down, headphones in hand, and plays it for you, his shy smile hiding the nerves as he waits for your reaction.

warnings — pure fluff, maybe a little overwhelming sweetness, mentions of real-life exhaustion (but nothing heavy), and a whole lot of love that might make your heart ache in the best way (i hope)

🪿’s note — hello!! i hope all you anton lovers out there like this fanfic. just wanted to say that my requests are currently open, so feel free to send in anything! if you wanna talk about riize, fanfics, or literally anything else or if you just need someone to chat with, my ask box is always open. don’t be shy!! xx

📌 any feedback are appreciated, i’d love to know what you think of my first mini-series, request open or send ask → 💌🦕🩵 !

“jagi, can you come here for a sec?”

anton’s voice drifts from the living room, soft but with that little edge of excitement you’ve learned to pick up on. you poke your head out from the kitchen, where you’ve been pretending to organize the counter just to keep your hands busy.

“what’s up, babe?” you call back, wiping your hands on a dish towel before stepping into the room.

he’s on the couch, legs tucked under the blanket you both love, his phone in one hand and those fancy headphones he’s so proud of in the other. his hair’s a mess probably from tugging at it all day and he’s got this shy, nervous smile that makes him look much cuter than he is.

“just… sit with me,”

he says, patting the spot next to him.

“i’ve got something to show you.”

you raise an eyebrow, tossing the towel over your shoulder as you walk over.

“is this about that secret project you’ve been hiding? because i swear, if it’s another guitar riff at 3 a.m…”

he laughs, that breathy sound that always gets you, and shakes his head.

“no, no. it’s done. my solo album. and, uh… it’s about you.”

you stop mid-step, blinking at him. “… wait, what?”

“yeah.”

he rubs the back of his neck, cheeks going pink.

“every song. it’s us. i wanted you to hear it first.”

you plop down next to him, the blanket shifting as you tuck your legs under it too. he’s been juggling so much lately with riize member rehearsals, flights, those late-night calls where he’s half-asleep but still asks about your day.

you knew he was working on something solo, but this? your heart’s already doing flips.

“okay, you’ve got my attention,” you say, leaning closer.

“show me.”

he hands you the headphones, fumbling a little as he pulls up the tracks on his phone.

“just… listen, okay? tell me what you think after.”

you nod, slipping them on, and he presses play.

the first track is.

‘first light’, all gentle acoustic strums and a melody that feels like sunrise. his voice comes in, smooth and tender, singing about the day he realized he loved you, coffee steam curling in the air, your laugh breaking through his sleepy haze. you remember that day, the lyrics paint it so clearly, and you feel your chest tighten.

then comes ‘habit’,

upbeat and playful, with a bassline that makes you want to dance. it’s about the little things of how you always steal his hoodies, the way you hum off-key in the shower, how he can’t sleep without your legs tangled in his. he’s sneaky with the details, slipping in that one time you burned toast and blamed it on him. you glance at him, and he’s watching you, biting his lip to hide a grin.

the third track named ‘anchor’, slows it down. it’s raw, just his voice and a piano, and it hits you hard. he sings about the chaos of his life with schedules, endless flights, the pressure and how you’re the steady thing keeping him grounded.

‘you’re my safe place, my always,’

he croons, and you feel tears prick your eyes because you know how much he means it. you’ve held him through those exhausted nights, his head on your shoulder, whispering that he’s okay as long as you’re there.

the last track is ‘vow’.

and it’s quiet, almost hushed, like a secret. the lyrics are simple but heavy with promise, about growing old with you, building a life, loving you through every season. it’s not flashy, but it feels like he’s handing you his heart all over again, just like he did when he proposed.

the final note fades, and you pull off the headphones, blinking fast to keep from crying. but then anton leans forward, tapping his phone screen.

“wait, one more thing,” he says, voice soft.

“there’s a credits track. it’s not really a song, just… something i had to add.”

you slip the headphones back on, curious, and a quiet recording starts. it’s just him speaking, his voice a little rough like he’s nervous again but still sweet.

‘uh, so… this album wouldn’t exist without you,’ he begins, and you can picture him in the studio, hunched over the mic.

‘to my wife, my muse, my everything, thank you for being the reason i can write, the reason i can breathe. every melody here is yours.’ there’s a pause, then his voice softens even more.

‘remember our wedding day? when we stood there, and i said, ‘i promise to hold you through every storm, to find you in every crowd, to love you louder than any song’? you said, ‘i promise to be your quiet place, your wild adventure, your forever home.’ those vows they’re in every note here.’

another pause, and then you hear it, your laugh, bright and unfiltered, recorded from some random moment he must’ve snuck onto his phone. ‘and that sound? that’s my favorite melody of all. i love you, always.’ he lets out a shaky laugh, and the recording ends.

you pull the headphones off again, and this time you’re a full-on mess, tears streaming down your face. anton’s staring at you, wide-eyed, like your reaction might make or break him.

“so…?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

you don’t even know where to start.

“anton, this is… it’s us. it’s everything.”

you lean forward, cupping his face in your hands, and he exhales, like he’d been holding his breath.

“that credits track? our vows? my laugh? i’m sobbing, you babo. it’s beautiful.”

“you’re beautiful,”

he says, so earnest it makes you laugh through the tears.

“i just wanted to tell our story. i mean, riize is my dream, but you’re… you’re my life.”

you kiss him then, soft and slow, tasting the salt of your own tears and the warmth of him. he pulls you into his lap, arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid to let go, and you stay like that for a while, the album still humming faintly through the headphones on the couch.

“play it again,” you murmur against his shoulder, and he smiles, reaching for his phone.

“only if you sing along this time,” he teases, and you groan, knowing he’ll never let you live down your off-key shower performances.

but you do it anyway, because it’s him, and this is your story, this messy, perfect, and all yours.

[01zfan]

through the phone

lawyer!eunseok x sahm!reader | 5.5k words

contains: phone sex, neglecting workaholic husband and lonely housewife

Eunseok took his glasses off in an attempt to clear his mind. Sometimes the absence of clear vision saved him from becoming overstimulated to the point of no return. The numbers for the collection billing turning to a black blur did help ease the incoming stress migraine that was forming on the sides of his head. He squeezed his eyes shut for good measure and put his elbows on the table so he could try and massage out the tension with his fingers.

The end of the quarter always was the worst time. No matter how much extra work Eunseok did to try and alleviate the stress of deadlines there was always so much work to be done. 

Sometimes it felt like the people he oversaw were working against him. He knew that he couldn’t blame the new paralegals too much, but some of their support seemed to be a hinderance. Sohee wrote chicken scratch in the margins of notes, Anton misspelled names on client documents, and the two had terrible organization skills. Eunseok spent a majority of the first night rereading the top of documents over and over again, sorting and stapling things that were supposed to be sorted and stapled a long time ago.

His surprise audit and early collection of everyone’s notes was meant to put fear in their hearts. They were supposed to feel guilty for forcing their hardworking boss to do extra work. The point that might’ve been missed isn't worth the headache Eunseok is putting himself through. He just can’t bring himself to threaten with unemployment—it’s a fatal flaw of his easygoing character—so he resorts to more troublesome methods for himself instead. He just prays that Sohee and Anton don’t forget the fear they felt getting their reports taken after Eunseok warned them about the deadline weeks in advance.

Even if this proved a point, Eunseok still lost. He was here in the office by himself past business hours, papers stacked on his desk and numbers on his computer being ran over again and again.

Eunseok hated not being home. He made the impossible rule to keep his work and home life separate, even when he became the manager of the firm and he took on a larger workload than he expected. At most he thought being home being home before midnight was wishful thinking, not actually impossible. But even when he wasn't at work he thought about work, anytime he saw numbers he envisioned a countdown, anytime he saw landscapes he thought of mountains of papers and numbers, and anytime he saw his kids he thought about the younger paralegals he was essentially babysitting everyday.

The end of the quarter brought out the worst in him. The work he was grateful for turned into something he hated. He hated being the leader of a team where everyone looked up to him and he was responsible for the oversight of operations and recruiting new attorneys for the next quarter. He hated that he had all this work to do by the end of the week if he wanted to keep his job up and running.

Eunseok let his forehead fall to the dark mahogany edge of his desk and let out a deep sigh. His large rolling chair leaned forward with him, and Eunseok took a moment to try and recenter himself. The job is awful, but it pays well. He’s doing good work, he's helping people who need help, and he’s due for that bonus and a vacation to Tulum. He has you and a family photo perched on his desk, right by his monitor when he needs an extra reminder of who he’s doing all this for. Eunseok lifts his head to see you smiling back at him and sighs again. 

What a terrible fate that to take care of his loved ones he has to be so far away. Locked in his office towards the top of the building like the Rapunzel of Wallstreet. You’re probably Sleeping Beauty, at home by yourself, waiting for your prince to come. He misses his kids, his daughter who was going through a Disney phase and his son who was going through a phase that made him hate all of those movies.

Eunseok looks at the analog clock hanging on the wall. The green digital time tells him his kids are fast asleep, another night he’s missed of reading bedtime stories and kissing his babies on the forehead. He figuratively smacks his palm against his face when he realizes he was supposed to call you a long time ago. Another night of you attempting to wait up for him despite neither of you knowing when he’s coming home.

All of this is ironic, when Eunseok first started this job as a paralegal he was always able to make it home in time for dinner. He always left his cubicle exactly at five, turning off his desktop and grabbing his suitcase before cramming onto the 7 train until he made it to Flushing. Now he drives to work in a fancy Cadillac and being home before dawn seems like a luxury. 

He closes his eyes again trying to remember the last time he was sitting at the dinner table with you and his kids. The memory is fading of asking what they were doing in school and getting enthusiastic replies back. He was starting to forget what non-reheated food tasted like and what age his kids were. Sometimes Eunseok was scared that they were forgetting who he was, and that he would just become a man who slept under the same roof as them. He should really find a work-life balance before he becomes the person he swore he never be.

When this quarter comes to a close he’ll really do it. He’ll start forcing the paralegals to do their own work, maybe even the lawyers too. He’ll have a strict work schedule, office hours he abides by with no exceptions. He will do it all once that bonus hits and he hands in these finished reports.

But right now, as New York creeps further into the night he is stuck here. He has one more report to go over and a few logs to verify, but then he’s home before he faces another marathon tomorrow. He just needs something to get him through this last hour, and running his fingers over your framed photo like you've died isn’t enough. 

Eunseok puts his glasses back on but still ignores the numbers on the computer to reach for the corded office phone instead. The millions of buttons on the office phone is confusing and he feels like a caveman when he tries to use it. Eunseok always entertained the idea of hiring a personal assistant, but he actually had to hire a receptionist when he unboxed your gift for his office. You picked the phone out, the brown finish to match the desk you also picked out and the red details of the phone matches his lounge chair that you also picked out. He always thought the red was a little too bold, but you always complimented the way Eunseok looked in red. So he dealt with the eyesore and offset the boldness with black furniture. The buttons on the office phone are bothersome, but he knows exactly what to press to reach the house.

When the phone rings Eunseok leans back in his chair. He knows the ringing on the bedside table will wake you up, but still he’s nervous. What if you’re mad at him for waking you up at such a terrible time, what if you’re mad he’s missed another day with his family? Eunseok chews on his nails as he swivels his chair side to side. He takes his hand out of his mouth to flick at the large monstera plant standing tall and healthy next to his desk. He thumbs the large leaf between his fingers, letting his glasses slide down his nose. 

Before Eunseok loses hope the call connects. It’s a loud and short click, there’s silence and he’s frozen in his chair waiting for what he’s going to hear on the other end of the line.

“Eunseok?” Your voice is husky from being pulled out of your sleep. He imagines your eyes are still closed and the phone is just resting on the side of your face as you try to wake yourself up. Eunseok leans further into his seat. “Is everything okay?” You ask.

He’s spending another late night in the office instead of sleeping in bed with you. His only companions right now are the green plants you bought for him and the smiling photos of you on his desk. He was running so low on steam that he had to just hear your voice for a little motivation to continue working himself like a dog. 

“I’m okay.” He lies. “I just wanted to hear your voice.” 

Your tired hum is barely picked up. Eunseok starts picking at the corner of his black mousepad trying to ignore that feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Well.” Your voice is husky, crackling right into his ear. He can’t stop the shiver up his spine. His hand that doesn’t hold the phone clasps in on itself, until his fingers graze his sweaty palm. “Here’s my voice.” You say.

“What about the kids?” He asks.

“Eunseok.” He can hear you turning in the bed to check the time next to you. His name floats between your two landlines for a moment, and he can hear you sigh. “You know they went to bed hours ago.” You say.

“I know." He tugs at the extension cord of the phone, wrapping the coil around his fingers. He hears the frustrated edge to your voice and how tired you are. He prays you take pity on him and forgive him for calling you this late at night. He hopes you forgive him for using you as a distraction and wasting your night. "Did anything interesting happen to them at school today?” He asks.

Eunseok hears you sigh on the other end of the line. He can hear your hand rubbing over your face and he feels that tension headache forming at his forehead again.

“You should really find the time to ask them yourself, Eunseok.” He draws in a breath and he can hear you moving. “They’re good at adjusting, they’re alot like you. But they feel your absence, you know?” You continue.

He can barely stand to hear that. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw his kids when they weren’t already asleep or being herded out the door to be rushed to school. He has to shake his head when he remembers his own childhood and he has to hold the phone a little tighter to forget it completely.

The fact that you hesitated tells him you’ve thought about this for awhile. He wonders when exactly you noticed your children noticing his empty space at the dinner table. He knows you’ve vouched for him in the past. His son was alot like him but his daughter was like you. She didn’t develop the ability to keep a secret yet, so when Eunseok apologized for falling asleep in the middle of telling her a story she was unfazed. His daughter read the book herself, thumbing to the next page while saying Mommy told us you work alot and we shouldn’t wake you up even if you fall asleep in the middle of your sentence. He didn’t know her vocabulary had gotten so developed, but she was just going through the book to look at the pictures.

Eunseok’s knew you kept your grievances to yourself to not upset the children. If they asked, you told them their father was working hard and hopes that they had a good day at school. You kissed your children an extra time on the forehead for him and only brought up Eunseok’s abscence in the family when he brought it up first. Your empathy hurts Eunseok, because you force him to become a man that has to talk about how he’s feeling.

You never withheld information about your kids, you never rubbed it in that you got to spend more time with them. He doesn’t know how you have so much patience for him, even when he’s so tired coming home he can barely reach out his arm to hold you. You always woke up and buried your head in his chest, bringing him closer and sighing so contently like he never left. The fact that he’s constantly so locked into his work he can barely muster the energy to call pains him.

“I know, I really do.” Eunseok speaks truthfully into the line. He sighs himself, leaning deeper into his chair.

His voice must’ve been desperate enough because he hears you hum again as your sleepy mind tries to recollect how their days went. He can imagine the gears turning in your mind, and he feels another pull at his chest.

“Well your son has that soccer game this weekend. Your daughter’s school play is next week. They’ve been preparing for that like crazy, it’s all either of them talk about.” You answer.

Eunseok remembers seeing you put together your daughters costume for the play, and picking his son up from practice when you had to go to a doctor’s appointment. 

He gets all the quick updates throughout your day, ranging from taking the kids to practice to cleaning the house to making dinner to doing practically everything else. He has missed every single practice and rehearsal for his kids, forcing you to take on the role of being the active parent in addition to you living your life. He wouldn’t be able to do what he does here if you weren’t working tirelessly from sunrise to sunset. Times like this is when that all really hits him. Eunseok is taken aback by the fact that you were probably on your feet all day and still have the energy to humor him this late at night. He also realizes that you two have fallen into the roles you told yourselves you'd never fall in to. You swore to be a modern couple, where the husband becomes a stay at home Dad and the wife becomes the CEO.

“Thank you for all that you do.” Eunseok says after a beat of silence.

“I like doing it. Thank you for all you do.” Eunseok can hear you trying to sound clear on the other end of the line. He hears you making an attempt to wake yourself up to be the energizer he needs while you imagine a life where your husband comes home in the evening. “How’s everything going?” You ask.

Eunseok has told you the gist of what’s going on at his job. In the moments when you are both awake when you get ready to start your day and Eunseok reluctantly gets ready for his, you two can occasionally have a conversation. Sometimes it feels like two old friends catching up over a cup of coffee, or estranged lovers when you lean in close to fix his tie. 

Over time you’ve picked up how stressful this time of year is for him, and how he has to manage so many people. He tries his best to hide the immense pressure he’s under, but over the years and being able to pick up on his body language he knows you can tell. You let him know you’re there for support in your own little ways. Rubbing out his tense shoulders or fixing his posture when he’s slouched eating reheated dinner. Slipping in tiny notes into his lunchbox. Nursing his dying office plants back to life. Answering phone calls in the middle of the night. You do things for Eunseok that lets him know he’s not alone and that you see the work he does for you and your family. Just thinking about it is enough to get him to blast through the rest of these reports, but it also makes him miss you so much it feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest and swim across the Hudson to find you.

“It’s alot, but I’m almost done.” He answers.

Silence on the other end of the line. Eunseok pushed his glasses back up his nose and tries to listen for snoring.

“They have you working hard for that corner office.” You say.

Eunseok laughs to himself and realizes he hasn’t done that in God knows how long. Everything has been too serious to him as of late, he’s been so worried and stressed that he’s kept nothing but a straight face. He thinks by the end of this he will have stress lines embedded into his skin. 

“I have to atleast put three hours in before they let me roll up the blinds.” He adds.

Now it’s your turn to laugh on the other end of the line. Eunseok can’t stop himself from smiling at your quiet laughter, even when you sigh wistfully directly into his ear.

“That view is to die for, though. You can basically see the whole city from up there.” You say.

Eunseok turns in his chair, making the cord from the office phone strain to follow him. You were right, Eunseok could see the whole city from up here. Even at night the lit up buildings were beautiful, and in the daytime it was so breathtaking it even made his two rowdy kids stop mid cartwheel to press their grubby hands to the glass. 

“I still remember when you visited me here.”

Eunseok remembers the feeling of pride swelling in his chest at the sight of his family loving the office he got in his promotion. He smiled at your wide eyes as you asked him if this was really his office now. Ever since then he’s worked extra hard to keep it.

Another beat of silence. Eunseok thinks you’ve really fallen asleep this time.

“Which time?” You ask. “Because I’ve been there a couple times.”

The change in your voice is too obvious, the shuffling on the other end of the line makes Eunseok’s heart drop. He feels anticipation already swelling in his chest.

There was that time you brought the family to see the office for the first after you picked the kids up from school, there was that time you came by for an office party. You drop by atleast once a week to have lunch with Eunseok on his break, or when you forced him to leave to stop him from working too hard. 

But there was also that one time you showed up after everyone had left only wearing that long fur coat Eunseok bought you and red stockings. He was sitting in the same chair he was now when you revealed your big surprise to him, you even took the time to tie a bow around your waist. Eunseok has never forgotten about his work as fast as he did then, he’s never done anything as risky as pushing your naked body against the big glass windows of his corner office. You two did less than savory things for the better half of an hour, before Eunseok pulled you into the back of a taxi to finish the job at home. Just thinking about it made him pull at his tie to loosen it around his neck.

“Which time were you talking about, Seok?” You repeat.

You haven’t said his nickname with that type of infliction in your voice in ages. Eunseok feels that churn in his stomach at the thought of you in front of him. 

“I was thinking about the first time—”

“The first time I sucked your dick underneath your desk?” You interrupt. 

Eunseok starts using his other hand to grip the edges of his office chair. When he looked down at the space that you fit into perfectly he gets lightheaded. The delirium from caffeine and lack of sleep makes Eunseok see you vividly, he can feel the way your hands pressed into his thighs as you did your best to take all of him.

“Or the first time you bent me over it?” You continue.

He can’t stop his dick from pressing against the fabric of his slacks. When he adjusts himself in his office chair he rubs against his clothes in a way that makes him sigh directly into the phone as he sinks lower into the cushion.

“I still remember that time you were on the phone with those clients that were really rude to you—“

“The delivery company from Staten Island?” Eunseok interjects because he’s too excited remembering that time with you. He feels pride swell in your chest when you make a sound of recollection on your end of the line.

“I remember they called you on the phone and I was sitting in your lap. Your voice started to get all shaky when I started grinding on you—“

“I remember.” Eunseok interrupts you again because he can barely stand hearing you repeat it back to him. He still has scratch marks on the lip of his desk where you were holding onto it for stability. He still has the underwear you were wearing that day locked in the bottom drawer of his desk.

“You hung up on them so fast when they started asking you why you were breathing all heavy.” You finish.

Eunseok hums and readjusts in his seat. His sensitive dick rubs against his slacks and he lets out a shaky breath. He slowly lets himself grind against his pants, the slightest bit of friction makes him grip the armrest of his chair.

“Are you alone?” You ask.

Eunseok chuckles dryly at your terribly timed question. You should’ve asked it before you tortured him with memories of you two being together. He lets go of the side of his chair and presses the base of his palm into his straining dick. The force is almost too much, and the fact that he hasn’t touched himself in forever makes everything more intense. 

“I’m alone.” Eunseok quickly reaches for the string hat brings the shutters down his windows. “Are you?” He asks.

“Yes I’m alone Seok. I was waiting for you.” You say.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He immediately gives into your taunts, remorse and desperation makes him almost whine for your forgiveness. “I’m here now, though.” He says.

You hum and Eunseok can hear you place the phone on your chest. The speaker of the phone presses to his ear with your heartbeats and he can hear the sound of sheets moving. 

He already knows you’re undressing yourself, starting with your bottoms. Eunseok can hear the muffled sound of effort as the sheets rustle some more. He presses the heel of his hand deeper into his crotch, until he can’t fight the urge to grind his hips against his palm.

“What are you wearing?” You ask him quietly.

He continues slowly grinding as he looks down to his feet. His legs are already spread across his carpet, out in front of him for maximum comfort.

“I’m wearing those black suede dress shoes you bought me last year for Christmas.” He says. He clicks the tips of his shoes together three times, maybe you’ll appear in front of him on his desk the same way you’re on the bed.

“They’re comfy right?” You ask desperately.

Hearing the tilt in your voice makes Eunseok sink deeper into his office chair. He moves only his hand so he can fully focus on your question.

“I can be in them all day no problem.” Your shaky breath comes through the phone and Eunseok smiles. He can see the look of relief you get when he praises you. He imagines you’re still trying to take it slow, only applying light pressure to your clit to match his excitement. “Everyone compliments them all the time. I tell everyone my wife got them for me.” He adds.

“I love when you call me that.” You whimper on the other end of the line. “What else? You’re wearing that gray suit I laid out for you this morning right?” 

“Yeah baby. But I got a little cold so I put on my black sweater.” He says.

“Take it off for me. Please.” You beg.

It’s been too long. He’s had trouble mustering up the energy to do anything beyond a few pecks on the cheek. At his worst there were times he was so tired he couldn’t get it up, just apologizing profusely while scissoring his fingers into your cunt. There were also times you had to do all the work in bed too, using his body merely as a vessel to get all of your frustrations out.

The begging tone in your voice is different from the times you were demanding him to give you one more, and that you weren’t done with him yet. You already sound like you’re close. But he only blames himself for not touching you in so long. He was unfortunately too busy thinking about how to reprimand his paralegals without being too mean to do things to you. Your tolerance for teasing in bed and your endurance had slimmed down, making you already teeter on the edge before Eunseok could even start with the dirty talk.

But he has to admit he’s proud you haven’t slipped your fingers inside of yourself. The last person on Earth that listens to him; you wait because he hasn’t told you to do it yet.

He feels that pride swell in his chest and it mixes with the intense longing. He listens to your plea, purposefully making extra noise with his belt so you might be able to hear it. Eunseok scoots his office chair across the dark carpet until his legs are under the desk. He lets his dress pants fall to his ankles, and he shivers at the cold air of his office. There’s already a splotch from precum seeping through his briefs, and Eunseok moans when he sees himself twitch. You moan back, helpless and weak as you try to think of what to say next.

“Did you take it off?” You ask.

“Just down to my ankles.” Eunseok folds his waistband just enough for his dick to spring free. It slaps against his stomach. He wishes you could see how pink and angry his tip is and how his dick pulses at the mere thought of you. “Can’t wait.” 

“Me neither.” You huff.

Eunseok wraps his hand around his tip, letting the sticky precum coat his palm. When he has enough he slowly thrusts up into his hand, gripping the phone with all of his might.

“You’re already playing with yourself, right?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You whine.

“What are you doing?” 

When you answer with a whine again Eunseok has to add a little more bass to his voice. He needs you to stay with him even if he’s miles away. Him rutting into his hands in his office when he should be doing work is barbaric. This goes against everything Eunseok practices, it’s a risk and if he thinks about what he’s doing too much he’ll never finish. He needs the visual of what you’re doing on the other end of the line. You laying on top of the covers with your eyes closed trying to keep your moans quiet is beautiful. The way your body is screaming for more is poetic, like an innate part of you needs him to get off. 

“Tell me everything.” He orders lightly.

“I’m on top of the bed because it was getting too hot underneath the covers.” You say.

Eunseok hums in acknowledgment and tightens his hand around the base of his dick. He’s slow and squeezes himself out, trying to match the steady tone you attempt to have in your voice.

“I only took my bottoms off because I’m too impatient.” You continue.

Eunseok disapprovingly clicks his tongue at you as if he’s any better. He’s the one that’s fucking his hand with his pants around his ankles.

“And I’m only touching my clit with two fingers, the way you always do it.” 

Your words are high-pitched now. Eunseok can hear you trying so hard to hold on.

“What’s your other hand doing baby?” Eunseok asked.

“Holding the phone.” You sighed.

Eunseok finally let his hand speed up. He had the perfect visual of you now, and he could fill in the gaps of the details you missed. He’s sure you’re squirming on top of the mattress and arching your back when something felt particularly good. Eunseok is locked onto his dick, he watches a glob of spit fall on his shaft before his hand uses it as extra lubrication. 

He tries his best to mimic the way you’d pulse and close in around his dick. His hand isn’t warm enough and he can feel spaces in his fingers. Nothing can come close to emulating you or what’s between your legs. It’s futile, it almost makes Eunseok cry into the phone about how much he needs to fuck you in his office again. He tries to find a solution elsewhere, if he can’t see you or feel it maybe he can hear it. 

“Put her on the phone.” Eunseok tugs at himself again and his back arches from the chair. “I wanna hear her.” He huffs.

Eunseok can hear your quick okay then the sound of the phone pulling away from your breathy moans. He presses the phone as deep as he can to his ear, as he imagines your current position. Legs bent with one hand on your clit while the other brings the phone between your legs. Eunseok holds his breath at how shameless and compromised you probably look just to follow his orders.

Then it breaks through. The lewd wet sound of your fingers slinking down to tease your entrance. His mouth waters at the thought of you coating your fingers, purposefully moving a little faster and rougher so the sound is more prominent. You just do so much just for his benefit, and all he has to do is work for you. You are too giving to Eunseok’s take, it makes him feel like a terrible husband but also lights a fire so deep in his stomach that his hand picks up the speed.

“Did you hear it?” You sound like you’ve run a mile when you pant into the phone. 

Eunseok nods, as if you’re right in front of him before he releases his bottom lip from his teeth.

“I heard it.” Eunseok feels his throat go dry and he’s swear he can taste you. “You’re so wet.” He whispers.

“I am.” Your voice trembles on the other side of the line, the same way you always did when he would sink into you. “My fingers are just sliding in and out.”

The visual description and astonishment in your voice makes Eunseok rut into his hand. He does it so abruptly the things shake on his desk and he almost pitches forward to really focus on fucking his hand. He fights everything in him to remain sitting upright, cursing directly into the phone through clenched teeth.

”Fuck.” 

“Can I hear you, too?” Your question is pushed out when you slide your fingers back in.

Lust makes your question sound like an order, and Eunseok is humming yes baby into the receiver when the pulls his phone from his face.

Eunseok woke his computer screen up by his sudden movements. He averts his eyes from the numbers to look down underneath his desk. The sight is dirty. If he told himself as an intern he’d be in a fancy corner office jerking his dick off extra loud so his wife could hear it through the phone he would’ve had a heart attack from the shock. Quiet and professional Eunseok would never do such a thing. But now he moves his hand a little faster for your benefit, biting his lip so hard he thinks he might draw blood.

He keeps going, getting lost in the debauched circumstances of it all. He feels like a caveman chasing after something so primal while pretending like you’re right there. If he could have his way he’d look up from his dick and see you laid out on his desk the same way you were on the bed, hand between your legs while you looked directly at him.

Eunseok brought the phone back up to his ear, swallowing deep because it felt like his tie was choking him.

“Could you hear it, baby?” He asked.

“I heard it.” Eunseok can hear you squirming on top of the sheets. You always needed his hand planted on your waist to stop you from moving so much. “She misses you.” You finally stutter over the line.

When Eunseok puts his phone between his shoulder and chin he can smell you. Your hand lotion still lingers on his clothes from when you smoothed his dress shirt this morning. When he closes his eyes he can see you teetering around his office, holding up the dying monstera leaves and frowning at their droop.

“I miss you.” Eunseok says it clearly, fucking into his hand faster than before. 

“I miss you too.” He knows you’re fingers have sped up by the way your voice has gotten pathetic and quiet. “I haven’t seen you in so long.” You say.

Even though you technically saw him this morning, he understands completely what you mean. You two haven’t seen eachother in weeks. Eunseok hasn’t had enough time to do something like kissing your shoulder or pulling you close throughout the day. You’re too sweet to complain about it. Even now when you should be mad you only sound weak and apologetic, like you’re the neglecting workaholic husband and he’s the lonely housewife.

“I know baby, I’ll make it up to you.” He has to grip the middle of the phone tight to keep his voice even. ”You’re close though, right?” Eunseok asks.

His steady tone only makes you fall deeper. One of your legs slides out from underneath you, your other  digs into the mattress. You went back to rubbing your clit, the absence of Eunseok’s fingers inside of you makes it impossible to cum from just penetration. Rubbing tight circles on your swollen bud gets the job done, because within seconds you’re fighting your thighs from closing tight around your fidgeting hand.

“Keep your legs spread.” Eunseok grunts into the phone. “Don’t stop either.” 

It’s like he’s here in the room with you, right beside you on the bed. Even though you say nothing you’re sure he can hear and see it all, that he’s already painted himself an accurate picture of yourself.

“Are you close?” You ask.

Eunseok looks down again. He’s almost in pain from the impeding orgasm. He can feel his spit-slicked veins bump against his hand, and his sensitive tip still leaks precum. He can’t stop himself from twitching in his hand, and he can feel the coil in his stomach tightening. 

“So close.” Eunseok seethes behind his teeth. “I’m so close.” He continues.

He has to hold his phone up with his shoulder to free his other hand. He quickly reaches across his desk, making sure to not hit anything in the process of grabbing tissues. He pulls them out in a frenzy, readjusting the phone to keep it in place. He needs to hear your muffled sounds clearly as he continues tugging on himself. 

He’s quick with preparing the tissues and faster with his other hand. He wonders if the lewd sound filters through the phone the same way it does in his spacious office. Part of him wants to pry, to ask in a low voice if you know how bad he wishes his hand was yours. He hopes you know he’s imagining you in the empty space underneath his desk. Eunseok takes mercy because he assumes you’re too busy to notice, because you’re practically crying while you beg Eunseok to cum first.

He’s methodical with it. His neck is bent at an odd angle to keep the phone up but he ignores the pain as he balls up the tissues preemptively. He leans back in his cozy office chair, closing his eyes to get lost in your voice.

“I already came.” You moan.

“Good.” Eunseok coos at you before you can apologize for indulging in something you so clearly needed. He can’t stand the idea of you apologizing almost as much as he can’t stand that he wasn’t the one who did it for you.

He stills his hand and begins thrusting his hips upwards through his fist. He tightens it even more until there’s a struggle, until he has to grunt from the effort to get his tip to poke out from the top. He imagines your tongue laving his angry tip and your hands rubbing over his flexed stomach. “Just keep talking to me. I’m almost there.” He says.

“Eunseokie.” Eunseok hums loudly to your whimper, and he squeezes his eyes tight. He is losing his resolve with each passing second. He is panting into the phone by the time you speak again. “Is the view nice?” You ask.

He screws his eyes shut tighter. His loudest moan rips through his office as he leans back into his seat.

“It’s beautiful baby.” Eunseok says quietly.

“I wanna see it again soon.” You say. “There’s so many things we haven’t done in there yet.”

Eunseok doesn’t get the chance to tell you that he’ll get an apartment closer to the office because he thrusts into his hand one final time. His full body relaxes into his office chair and he works his hand one more time before he feels it. Relief spreading across his body and warm cum spurting from his tip. It’s a dribble at first, sliding down Eunseok’s fist and getting between his fingers. Then it’s a mess, getting on his thighs and his desk. He’s too strung out to use the tissues clutched in his hand, he has no choice but to ride it out completely. Your voice on the other end of the line doesn’t help. You’re a cooing mess, your bothered voice talks him through the orgasm that wracks through his body.

“I can hear you.” You tell him.

“I swear I can feel you.” He whimpers.

“I’m there. And you’ll be home soon, too.” You assure.

Another wave of pleasure comes through him. Eunseok’s toes crack in his dress shoes and his glasses are all the way down to the tip of his nose when he opens his eyes again. He has partial vision, everything is blurred and wobbling when his thighs shake.

“Shit.” He feels the droplets of cum on his thigh cool and he sees the mess he was trying to prevent. He lets his dick go and it helplessly flops to his thigh. Still everything about him is sensitive, he shivers when he gently presses the crumbled tissues to his sensitive inner thigh. “Fuck.” He curses.

“Did you make a mess?” You ask on the other end of the line.

Eunseok looks at his wet hand. He uses the tissues to dab off the wet trail marks and finishes cleaning up by wiping his palm across his black sweater. He grimaces at the thought of defiling his cashmere, but he needs a free hand to hold the phone to his other ear.

“A little bit.” His voice is weak and hoarse as he talks. 

You hum. He knows you’re sleepy again, and for a moment he selfishly wants to rile you up again just so you can offer to take a cab to come clean him up. But Eunseok has kept you from your sleep long enough, and he also feels exhausted. He’s been at this desk looking at numbers all day and just came so hard it made his whole body shake. He thinks he could sleep for a week straight if given the chance.

“Can the rest of your work wait until tomorrow?” You yawn.

Eunseok pulls the bottom of the phone away from his mouth to yawn. His balled fist in front of his mouth forces him to smell himself and he grimaces again. He can tell that he won’t be able to make sense of these numbers and reports for the rest of the night. He reaches underneath his desk to pull his slacks back up his legs.

“It can.” He answers.

“Okay. I’ll wait up for you.” You say.

He can hear the smile in your voice. Eunseok tells you he loves you a million times before he hangs up the phone.

[loveanton]

my universe | lee anton

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: if anyone were to ask your husband what matters most to him he’d undoubtedly respond with, “my family.” you and your three children, soon to be four, are his whole universe.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: husband!anton x f!reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: slice of life au

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 4.7k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: screaming kids, tantrums, mentions of pregnancy, protective anton, fear of water, accidental hitting, you and anton shower together, overall just cute family time hehe :)

⏤ 𝑎/n: want anton to father my kids 🫨

"Mama, up!"

You glance down at your youngest, his small arms reaching up towards you from the floor as you hover over the stove, carefully tending to breakfast for your bustling household. His sleepy eyes and rumpled pajamas tug at your heart, but you know you have to keep moving.

"Just a little longer, sweetheart," you say gently. "Mama's making breakfast."

But your explanation does little to soothe him, and his pout quickly turns into a full-blown tantrum. He wails, stomping his little feet in frustration, the noise echoing through the kitchen. Before you can intervene, Anton's calm, firm voice cuts through the chaos.

"Buddy, come here."

Your son turns, still sniffling, and runs into Anton's waiting arms. Anton scoops him up effortlessly, his voice soothing as he explains, "Mama's making breakfast. She can't pick you up right now, okay?"

Your son, now snuggled against Anton's shoulder, seems to understand. He buries his face into his father's neck, his cries subsiding as sleep overtakes him once more.

Just then, the twins burst into the kitchen, their energy filling the room as they dart around. The two children create a whirlwind of laughter and shouts, making it almost impossible for you to continue cooking. Your son stirs and starts to cry again, overwhelmed by the sudden noise.

"Hey, hey, calm down, everyone," Anton says, his voice authoritative yet kind. "No running around in the kitchen. Go wait in the living room until breakfast is ready."

The twins, recognizing the seriousness in their father's tone, grab each other's hands and run out, still bubbling with excitement but now more contained. You sigh in relief, though your son's cries continue, his small body writhing in Anton's arms.

"Here, let me take him," you offer, stepping towards Anton.

But Anton shakes his head, his eyes gentle but firm. "No, love. I don't want you carrying him. Remember, you're pregnant."

You roll your eyes slightly but smile, appreciating his concern. "I'm fine, Anton. I can handle it."

"I know you can," he says, brushing a stray braid from your face. "But I'd feel better if you didn't pick him up for a while."

You relent, understanding his worry, and return to cutting up the fruit, grateful for his support. Anton sways gently, soothing your son until his cries turn to soft snores. Just then, your mother-in-law descends the stairs, her presence warm and reassuring.

"Good morning," she greets, taking her grandson from Anton with practiced ease. "I'll take this little one."

"Thanks, Mom," Anton says, his hands now free to help you finish breakfast. He moves to your side, starting to plate the food with efficiency born of practice.

The sound of breakfast preparations and the occasional clatter of dishes fills the kitchen. You and Anton work in a seamless rhythm, a testament to the years of shared mornings and teamwork. As you place the final touches on the plates, Anton calls out, "Okay, breakfast is ready!"

The children come running back, their excitement renewed. As they crowd around the table, the twins start to bicker over who gets to sit next to their dad, their voices rising in discord.

"Girls, you can share the chair," you interject, cutting off the argument before it can escalate. "No more fighting, okay?"

They nod, clambering onto the same chair, their brief squabble forgotten in the excitement of breakfast. As they dig into their plates, the sound of footsteps inform of the arrival of Anton's father.

"Grandpa!" The chorus of excited voices fills the room as the kids rush to him, wrapping their arms around his legs. Even your youngest joins in, having wriggled free from his grandmother's grasp.

He chuckles, bending down to tickle them. "Alright, alright, let's finish breakfast first," he says, his eyes twinkling with affection.

Anton hands you a cup of tea, his eyes meeting yours with a loving smile. "Good morning, Dad," he says, taking a sip of his own coffee.

"Good morning," his father replies, settling into a chair with a contented sigh, watching the lively scene before him.

You take a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace amidst the chaos. Anton often tells you that your family is his whole universe, and in moments like these, it's easy to see why.

As breakfast progresses, the noise level rises again, though this time it’s filled with the happy chatter of children and the clink of utensils. Your mother-in-law, having settled your youngest comfortably on her lap, joins in the conversation, sharing a story from Anton’s childhood that has everyone laughing.

"Did you know," she says, "when your dad was your age," she points at one of the twins, "he used to run around the kitchen with his brother just like you, driving me up the wall!"

Anton shakes his head, grinning. "And now it's come full circle. Thanks for that, Mom."

The twins giggle, and you see them exchanging looks that promise future mischief.

As you move to enter the kitchen, Anton stands and follows you, placing a gentle hand on your back. "Need a hand?" he asks.

"Just need some water," you reply with a smile.

He obliges, pouring a glass of water for you before topping off his own cup with some more coffee. "You know," he says quietly, "I think we should tell everyone soon. About the baby."

You nod, looking through the kitchen entryway at the gathered family, feeling a wave of warmth and gratitude. "Yeah, soon. But not just yet. Let's keep this little secret between us for a bit longer."

Anton agrees, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. "I can't wait to meet this one."

___

As breakfast winds down, Anton’s father stands up, signaling the end of the meal. "Alright, girls," he says, clapping his hands. "Who’s up for a game outside?"

A chorus of cheers follows, and the twins scramble to clean up their plates, eager for the next adventure. Anton helps you clear the table, his hand occasionally brushing yours, a silent reminder of his love and support.

Your mother-in-law, still holding your youngest, stands and stretches. "I'll take him for a little walk in the garden," she says. "Give you two a bit of a break."

"Thanks, Mom," you say, truly grateful.

As the children spill outside, their laughter echoing back into the house, you and Anton share a quiet moment in the now peaceful kitchen. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

"You know," he murmurs, "I wouldn't trade this for anything."

You rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "Neither would I."

Anton and you retreat to the kitchen, the comforting sounds of family now a backdrop to your conversation. Together, you start washing the dishes, working side by side. Anton takes up the sponge, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on a plate, while you rinse and stack the clean dishes.

“Remember when we first found out we were having the twins?” you say, smiling at the memory.

Anton chuckles, his eyes warm with nostalgia. “How could I forget? We were both in shock. Two babies at once.”

You nod, laughing softly. “I thought we’d never sleep again.”

“And we didn’t, for a while,” Anton replies, shaking his head. “But look at them now. They’re growing up so fast.”

You both pause, gazing out the window above the kitchen sink. The large yard, a non-negotiable for both of you when buying this house, stretches out in front of you. The twins run around with their grandpa, their laughter ringing through the air, while your son clings tightly to his grandmother’s hand, exploring the garden.

“I’m so glad we insisted on a big yard,” you say, watching the children play. “I wanted them to have the space to explore, to grow up with nature. Not glued to screens all the time.”

Anton nods, his arm brushing yours as he hands you another plate. “They’re having the kind of childhood we always dreamed of for them.”

You turn to look at your husband, your heart swelling with love and gratitude. “Our son looks just like you, you know. Acts like you too. It’s like having a little Anton running around.”

Anton smiles, a tender look in his eyes. “And the twins are all you. They’ve got your energy.”

As you share this quiet moment, your oldest twin comes barreling into the kitchen, her voice high with excitement. “Beach! Daddy, Mommy, beach!”

Anton’s father follows her in, looking a bit sheepish. “Sorry about that. I told them about how much you and your brother loved swimming in the ocean when you were their age. They got a bit obsessed with the idea.”

You and Anton laugh, your kids’ enthusiasm infectious. The twins cling to your legs, their faces pleading as they beg to go.

“Please, Mommy! Please, Daddy!” they chant, their eyes wide with anticipation.

Anton glances at you, then back at the kids, a smile spreading across his face. “Well, it is nice out. How about a family outing to the beach?”

The twins squeal in delight, racing off to their shared room to pick out their outfits. You chuckle, shaking your head at their energy.

“Looks like we’re going to the beach,” you say, leaning into Anton.

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. “Mhhmm, excited to teach Chanwoo how to swim.”

With the dishes done, you start gathering the necessary items for a beach trip. Towels, sunscreen, snacks – everything you’ll need for a day of fun in the sun. The twins reappear, dressed in their swimsuits and hats, bouncing with excitement.

“Ready, ready, ready!” they chant, unable to contain their enthusiasm.

Your mother-in-law comes in, your son still in her arms. “Looks like we’re all set. This little one is ready for his first beach day too.”

You take a moment to look around at your family, feeling a profound sense of happiness and fulfillment. Anton catches your eye, and you share a smile, knowing that these are the moments that he appreciates most.

As you all pile into the car, the kids chatter excitedly about the waves, the sand, and the fun they’re going to have. Anton starts the engine, and you lean back in your seat, hand resting on your slowly growing belly. Anton's parents follow in their own car, ready to join the beach adventure.

The twins, Yechan and Chanmi, start firing off questions as soon as you hit the road. "Mommy, how big are the waves?" Yechan asks, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"And will we see dolphins?" Chanmi adds, bouncing in her seat.

"The waves can be pretty big, but we'll stay where it's safe for you to play," you reassure them. "And maybe, if we're lucky, we might see some dolphins."

Your son, clutching his favorite stuffed animal, pipes up. "Mama, what about cwabs?" He tries to say 'crabs' but stumbles over the word, making you smile.

"Crabs, sweetheart," Anton corrects gently. "Can you say 'crabs'?"

"Cwabs," your son tries again, furrowing his little brow.

"Crabs," Anton repeats, and the twins join in, encouraging their brother.

"Crabs, crabs, crabs!" they chant, giggling.

Your son concentrates hard, then finally says, "Crabs!"

"Yay!" The twins cheer, giving him high fives, which makes him giggle in delight.

You feel your heart warm at the sight of your children supporting each other. Anton reaches over to squeeze your hand, his eyes reflecting the same affection you feel.

“Daddy, why don’t you swim anymore?” Yechan asks suddenly, her question catching you off guard.

Anton glances at you before answering. “Well, sweetie, I stopped swimming to follow another dream. I wanted to sing, so I chose that instead.”

Chanmi gasps, her eyes wide with admiration. “You’re so cool, Daddy.”

Anton laughs, his voice soft and even lower than usual due to his bashfulness. “Thank you, Chanmi. That means a lot to me.”

When you arrive at the beach, the twins are practically vibrating with excitement, ready to dash into the water. You manage to corral them long enough to apply sunscreen, with Anton helping to ensure they’re properly covered.

“Can we go now? Please?” Yechan begs, hopping from one foot to the other.

“Alright, alright,” Anton says, laughing. “Let’s go.”

He tries to take your son along, but the little boy screeches and buries himself in your arms, clearly frightened of the water. “Looks like he’s not ready for the waves yet,” you say, soothing him with gentle pats. “We’ll stay here and build a sandcastle, okay?”

Your son nods, his grip on you tightening. You find a good spot on the beach, and soon, you’re both immersed in building an elaborate sandcastle, complete with moats and towers.

Your mother-in-law and father-in-law join you, sitting down in the sand to watch and help. “This is such a lovely day,” your mother-in-law says, her voice warm with affection. “Thank you for making our son so happy.”

You glance up, surprised. “Oh, it’s my pleasure. Anton means the world to me.”

She smiles, her eyes softening. “I was always worried, you know. With Anton’s job, I feared he’d never find someone who truly loved him for who he is. But you’ve been his rock. Despite the hate and the invasive fans, you stayed by his side. There’s no one else I could ever see him loving.”

Your father-in-law nods in agreement. “We’re grateful for you. You’ve made him so happy, and that’s all we’ve ever wanted for our kids.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away, smiling. “Thank you. That means a lot. I love Anton, and I love this family we’ve built together.”

As you chat, you keep an eye on Anton and the twins in the water. They’re laughing and splashing, Anton’s strong arms steadying them against the small waves. It’s clear they’re having the time of their lives, and your heart swells with pride and joy.

Your son, now more relaxed, starts to enjoy the sandcastle project, his little hands patting the sand into shape. “Look, Mama! Big tower!” he exclaims, showing you his handiwork.

“That’s amazing!” you praise, giving him a high five.

Your mother-in-law watches the scene with a tender smile. “He’s so much like Anton at that age. So determined and full of wonder.”

“He really is,” you agree, looking at your son with love.

After a while, Anton and the twins return, their faces flushed with excitement. “Mommy, did you see us? We went so far out!” Yechan says, her eyes sparkling.

“I saw! You were so brave,” you say, hugging her.

Chanmi nods vigorously. “Daddy was the best lifeguard ever!”

Anton grins, ruffling their hair. “You two were amazing swimmers.”

As the excitement of swimming subsides, you turn to your son, who’s been contentedly building sandcastles by your side. “Do you want to try the water, sweetie?” you ask him gently.

He hesitates, looking out at the waves with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. “Mama, water scary.”

You smile reassuringly. “I know it seems that way, but Mommy and Daddy will be right there with you. We’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

He looks up at you, his little face thoughtful. After a moment, he nods. “Okay, Mama. I twust you.”

You stand and take his small hand in yours, feeling a swell of pride at his bravery. “Let’s go to the shore, then. Daddy, can you help?”

Anton joins you, taking your son’s other hand. “Ready, buddy? We’ll take it slow.”

Together, you walk toward the water, your son gripping your hands tightly. When the first wave gently rolls over his little toes, he shrieks at the sensation but doesn’t pull away.

“See? It’s not so bad,” Anton says, smiling down at him. “Do you want to go in a bit deeper?”

Your son looks up at you both, then back at the water. With a firm nod, he says, “Yes, Daddy. Deeper.”

You caress his cheek, your heart swelling with love. “That’s my brave boy.”

As you walk in a bit further, the water rises to his knees. He giggles, now more accustomed to the feel of the waves. He pulls his hands free from yours and starts splashing around, his laughter echoing over the beach.

Anton giggles along with him, scooping him up and tossing him gently in the air before catching him. Your son squeals with delight, his fear completely forgotten. Anton tickles him, and the two of them laugh together, the joy of the moment infectious.

After a while, you head back to join the rest of the family for lunch. You spread out the picnic blanket, and everyone gathers around, their faces glowing with happiness and the warmth of the sun.

“Look at this spread,” your father-in-law says, rubbing his hands together. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

You smile, handing out some gimbap. “I had a lot of help.”

The kids settle down with their food, and soon the air is filled with the sound of chatter and laughter.

“Grandpa, do you like sandcastles?” Yechan asks, her mouth full of mango.

“I love sandcastles,” he replies, winking at her. “Especially when they’re built by my grandkids.”

Chanmi, always the curious one, turns to her grandmother. “Grandma, did Daddy build sandcastles too?”

Her grandmother smiles, brushing a stray hair from Chanmi’s face. “Oh yes, he did. Your daddy loved the beach when he was your age. He used to spend hours building the biggest sandcastles you can imagine.”

“Wow,” Chanmi says, eyes wide. “Daddy, did you really?”

Anton nods, taking a bite of his sandwich. “I did. I loved making towers, just like you do.”

“Can we build one together later?” Yechan asks, looking up at her dad with hopeful eyes.

“Of course,” Anton says, smiling. “I’d love that.”

Your son, having finished his sandwich, looks up at you with a proud smile. “Mama, I not scared of water no more.”

You ruffle his hair. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. You were very brave.”

Anton’s mother looks at you with a soft smile. “You’re doing such a wonderful job with them. Thank you for giving Anton such a beautiful family.”

You feel a lump in your throat, touched by her words. “Thank you. It means a lot to hear that.”

Your father-in-law chimes in. “We couldn’t have asked for a better daughter-in-law. You’ve made our son so happy.”

As the afternoon progresses, you enjoy the easy camaraderie of family, the children’s laughter mingling with the soothing sound of the waves. You build more sandcastles, take turns flying a kite, and even manage to get your son to dip his toes in the water again, this time with even more confidence.

As the sun begins to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you gather your belongings, tired but content. The kids are still buzzing with energy, talking animatedly about their day.

“Can we come back tomorrow?” Yechan asks, her eyes shining with excitement.

“We’ll see,” Anton says, chuckling. “But for now, it’s time to head home and get some rest.”

You pile back into the cars, the kids’ chatter a comforting background noise as you drive home. Anton reaches over and takes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a tender gesture.

“I love you,” he says softly.

“I love you too,” you reply, feeling the truth of those words deep in your heart.

As you pull into the driveway, you can’t help but reflect on the day’s events. It’s in these simple, yet profound moments that you find true happiness. However, as you prepare to go inside, you realize the day isn’t quite over yet.

Anton carries your son, who fell asleep during the car ride, into the house. “Looks like someone’s completely worn out,” he says, smiling.

Inside, the twins start arguing as soon as they hear Anton mention showers. “If he’s not going to take a shower, then we won’t either!” Yechan declares, crossing her arms defiantly.

“That’s not fair!” Chanmi adds, mimicking her sister’s stance.

Anton sighs, his tone firm but gentle. “Everyone will be taking a shower tonight. No exceptions. We’ve all had a long day at the beach, and we need to get cleaned up.”

Yechan and Chanmi groan but relent, seeing that their father won’t budge. Anton carries your son to the bathroom while you start running the water, getting everything ready.

“Sweetheart, it’s time to wake up and take a quick shower,” you whisper, gently shaking your son awake.

He stirs, his face scrunching up in protest. “No, Mama, too sleepy.”

Anton chuckles softly. “I know, buddy, but you’ll feel better after a quick rinse. We’ll make it fast, I promise.”

Reluctantly, your son allows himself to be undressed and placed under the warm water. Anton keeps him steady, washing off the sand and salt while you help the twins get ready. Despite the initial resistance, the warm water helps soothe everyone, and soon the bathroom is filled with giggles and splashes as the day’s adventures are recounted.

After the showers, you wrap your son in a fluffy towel and carry him to his room. He’s barely awake, his head resting heavily on your shoulder. You and Anton moisturize his skin before dressing him in some pajamas and tuck him into bed, kissing his forehead. “Goodnight, my brave boy,” you whisper, brushing his hair back.

“Night, Mama. Night, Daddy,” he mumbles, already drifting back to sleep.

With your son settled, you head to the twins’ room. They’re in their pajamas, bouncing on their beds with boundless energy. “Alright, time for a bedtime story,” you announce, trying to wrangle them into bed.

“Yay! Storytime!” they cheer, finally settling down.

Anton picks out a book and starts reading, his voice soft and animated. The twins listen intently, their eyes wide with fascination. As the story ends, Chanmi immediately pipes up. “One more, please, Mommy!”

You shake your head gently. “No, sweetie, it’s time to sleep. We’ll read another one tomorrow.”

This answer doesn’t sit well with Chanmi, who starts to pout. “But I don’t want to sleep!” she declares, her voice rising.

“Chanmi, we agreed on one story,” Anton says, his tone firm. “It’s time for bed now.”

Chanmi’s frustration hits a head, and she starts to cry, thrashing around. In her tantrum, she accidentally smacks your stomach with her little hand. Anton’s eyes flash with anger, and he steps in immediately. “Noémi Chanmi Lee, that’s enough!” he says sternly. “You need to stop this right now. Hitting is not okay.”

You wince slightly at the impact and the use of your daughter's full government name but try to reassure Anton. “It’s okay, I’m fine,” you say softly, placing a hand on his arm.

Anton shakes his head, his eyes still on Chanmi. “She needs to understand what she did was wrong.” He kneels down to her level, his tone gentler but firm. “Chanmi, you need to calm down. It’s not okay to throw tantrums and hit. Even if you didn’t mean to, it’s still not acceptable.”

Chanmi’s tears start to slow as she realizes the gravity of what she’s done. “I’m sorry, Mommy,” she says, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to hit you.”

You kneel down beside Anton and pull Chanmi into a hug. “I know you didn’t mean it, sweetie. I forgive you. But you need to listen when we say it’s time for bed.”

Anton wipes away Chanmi’s tears, his expression softening. “I’m sorry for yelling, but I was worried about Mommy. It’s important to behave and not throw tantrums, okay?”

Chanmi nods, sniffling. “Okay, Daddy. I’ll sleep now.”

You and Anton tuck the twins in, kissing them goodnight. “Sweet dreams, my loves,” you whisper, brushing a stray hair from Chanmi’s forehead.

“Night, Mommy. Night, Daddy,” they murmur, finally settling down.

As you close the door to the twins’ room, you and Anton exchange a look of shared relief and exhaustion. “Parenting is no joke,” Anton says with a tired smile.

You chuckle softly. “No, it’s not. But we’re in this together.”

Hand in hand, you head to your bedroom, the weight of the day’s activities starting to settle in. Once inside, you start getting ready for bed. You change into your robe and begin to wrap up your hair. Anton watches you with a soft smile, his love and admiration evident in his eyes.

“Shower?” he suggests, his voice warm and inviting.

You nod, feeling the day’s weariness melt away at the thought. “Yes, please.”

In the bathroom, Anton turns on the water, adjusting it to the perfect temperature. He helps you out of your robe and then sheds his own clothes, leading you under the warm spray. The water cascades over you both, washing away the sand and salt from the beach.

Anton takes the soap and lathers his hands, starting to wash your body with gentle, loving strokes. He’s careful and thorough, his touch tender as he cleanses your skin. When he reaches your growing belly, he bends down and kisses it softly, his lips lingering for a moment. “Hello in there,” he whispers, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

You smile down at him, your heart swelling with love. “You’re so sweet,” you murmur.

He stands back up and finishes rinsing you off before taking his turn. You help him wash, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. After you both are clean, you step out of the shower, drying each other off with fluffy towels. Anton wraps you in a warm embrace, his hands resting on your hips.

Back in your bedroom, you both get dressed in comfortable pajamas. You slip into bed first, sighing contentedly as you sink into the soft sheets. Anton follows, climbing in beside you and pulling you close to his body. His arms wrap around you protectively, his warmth seeping into your skin.

You nestle against him, feeling safe and loved. “Today was wonderful,” you say, your voice a gentle whisper in the quiet room.

“It really was,” Anton agrees, his hand resting on your belly. “The kids had so much fun, and I loved seeing them so happy.”

You nod, placing your hand over his. “And seeing our little one growing inside me, it makes everything feel even more special.”

Anton smiles, his eyes softening. “I’ve been thinking about the baby a lot. I really hope it’s a boy this time.”

You laugh softly, teasingly. “You scream girl dad, Anton. You should be thankful you have at least one son.”

He chuckles, giving your belly a gentle pat. “I know, but it’d be nice to balance things out a bit. The girls have such strong personalities, and sometimes I think it’d be fun to have another little guy running around.”

You smile, feeling a sense of contentment. “Well, whatever this little one turns out to be, I know we’ll love them just as much as we love the others.”

“Absolutely,” Anton agrees, his voice filled with sincerity. “I just want our family to be happy and healthy.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes meeting his. “And they are. Thanks to you.”

He shakes his head slightly, a modest smile on his lips. “Thanks to us. We’re a team, remember?”

You nod, your heart swelling with love for this man who has given you everything. “Yes, we are.”

Anton leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he whispers against your mouth.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice filled with emotion.

As you settle into his embrace, you close your eyes, feeling completely at peace. The day has been long and tiring, but it has also been filled with love, laughter, and precious moments with your family. And as you drift off to sleep, you know that no matter what challenges come your way, you and Anton will face them together, with love and gratitude for the beautiful life you’ve built together.

[takusan-no-ai]

You forgot your lunch, hun

PAIRING: Anton x Female Reader (Romantic) (Fluff)

SUMMARY: Anton can’t find his lunch at home and (Y/N), his wife, brings it to him at work.

Your husband Anton is a lovely doofus; his bro is a machine, and he’s not the most “socially adept”. But his heart is always in the right place, and even when it’s hard to understand what he says, you know it’s supposed to cheer you up.

Today happened to be one of those days where you couldn’t understand your husband; it wasn’t entirely his fault, you were still half asleep. All you could make out was him say “Where is it bro?” and something about being hungry later.

Later while cleaning out the fridge you see Anton’s lunch box and realize what had him freaking out so early in the morning. And so, you put on your coat, grabbed the lunch box, and drove towards Belobog Industries.

“Anton, your wife is here to see you!” Koleda shouted out the window. Moments later Anton made his way over, clearly working on no energy.

“Hey honey, something come up?” He asked. You didn’t always visit him at work, not wanting to disturb the building process. But skipping a meal on such a physically demanding job wasn’t going to happen on your watch.

“You forgot your lunch, hun. It was in the far back of the fridge.” You said sweetly, handing the box to him. Anton’s eyes lit up and his stomach decided it was a good time to growl.

He scratched the back of his neck, only slightly embarrassed. “Wanna eat with me while you’re here?” He asked with the cutest smile. And you, of course, said yes. Giving him a kiss on the cheek afterwards.

- Fin

[haocovr]

BARK BARK ARKKKJ

a dip — l.cy

⌗ pairing. . . anton lee x male reader

⌗ genre. . . smut

⌗ summary. . . you went with your fuck buddy to the pool… that was your first mistake.

⌗ includes. . . sub!reader, fwb!swimmer!anton, public sex (pls don't esp not this one), unprotected sex (also don't),

⌗ wc. 2.5k

°A/N. . . sorta requested but also not really,, also not proofread nor very pretty or as descriptive as i like to be im so sorry this is just what you get when im horny bc these pictures ruined my life

you knew much better than to agree to joining anton lee at the pool of all places.

being a lifetime friend (occasionally with benefits) of his, you knew the swimmer could spend hours upon hours at the pool and not feel an ounce of exhaustion. he'd often convince you to stay long after you finished swimming yourself, just to wait for him to complete his cool down routine before driving you home.

the worst thing of all, though, was that you were constantly reminded just how much he had hidden underneath those oversized sweaters and jeans that he always wore. behind that whole shy boy aesthetic he had going on, was the physique of what you could only compare to a greek god, and even he knew it.

you never got used to it - seeing anton's chiseled body exposed in the aquatic habitat that felt like a second home to him. no matter how sweet his smile or how loud his laugh, nothing could distract you from drooling over a body like that cutting through the water with such ease. it was even worse because the sweet boy knew exactly what he did to you.

he tried to cut you some slack, though, respecting your effort to seem unbothered every time he'd peel his layers of clothing off before jumping into the pool, wearing nothing but his tight blue swim trunks that suffocated his muscular thighs.

one time he even pretended not to notice how you were so worked up after a race with him that you had to go not-so-subtly get yourself off in the community bathroom.

in your defense, it was a heated indoor pool, and he had completely annihilated you in the race. that proud smirk paired with the steam rising from his rippling back muscles had you biting back moans from the sight alone. so naturally, it was to no one's surprise once things turned physical between you both.

the adrenaline that swimming gave anton put him on cloud nine, and being the stubborn ass that you were, you were determined to somehow beat this pro swimmer in a race - only for it to end with you losing miserably and somehow hornier than when you started. one thing would always lead to another, a taunting comment thrown your way turning into his bare back pressed against the cool tiles of the changing room while you yanked his swim shorts down low enough to take his throbbing cock into your mouth.

but today you were going to be good.

you hadn't hooked up with anton for a while, and were truly only tagging along because he needed a friend to time his laps for the upcoming season.

however, it'd be a lie to say you didn't have to give yourself a prep talk as you set your things down on the pool chairs, noticing nobody was there tonight. it was business as usual, though. anton always convinced the coach to let him have later access while the rest of the team went home so he could focus. you just found it harder to control yourself around him when left alone like this, but tonight you had a new type of dedication to simply swim, help your friend, and go home.

besides, why would it be so difficult for you to keep it in your pants for just one night?

‘oh, thats why.’ you groaned internally as you watched anton strip his shirt from over his head.

fuck, had he been bulking up?

you pretend not to notice how his biceps flex as he runs a hand through his shaggy brown hair while you stripped down to your swim trunks as well. god, his skin was practically glowing even from the dingy indoor lighting.

your head whipped around back towards his direction when you heard a low hiss, watching his face scrunch slightly as he stepped down the pool's ladder. your dick twitched a bit at the sight of his furrowing brows and low groan as he sunk deeper into the water, but you mentally slapped yourself back to reality.

"what's with you?" you questioned approaching the steps, getting ready to enter as well.

"shit, i forgot to remind coach to turn the heaters on tonight," he responded. "its freezing."

you thought he was being dramatic, but the chilly water indeed bit back when you lowered your ankles in. you decided against submerging for now, simply swirling your legs in circles while you spun anton's stopwatch in your hand.

anton began a quick warm up, stretching and dunking himself udner water several times and adjusting quickly to the temperature. his wet hair splaying out around his face made him even more gorgeous than he already was, and you felt your cheeks gain a sickening warmth.

"alright bro, let's get started." you cleared your throat, speaking up to hurry the process along before your resolve crumbled.

"sure, bro." he mocked before sending a wink your way. shit, he was already on to you.

anton held eye contact with you as he hoisted himself out of the water to walk over to the swim lanes, causing your breath to silently falter. your instincts made you the first to break contact though, as your eyes followed the droplets that slid down his broad chest, past his perked nipples, over his abs and eventually disappear into his waistband.

god, you were such a pervert. and he loved it so much.

only 30 minutes into his laps you found yourself desperately missing the shy boy act that he would put on for every body else. once he was in athlete mode, the confidence in his demeanor made your self control fly out the window. it didn't make sense how someone as massive as him could practically fly through the water, flexing every inch of his muscle like it was nothing.

it forced you to reminisce on how he was in bed, constantly taking you with his immense stamina. he could toss and turn you in any way at any given pace, constantly making you see stars like it was nothing — even when you were the one to start things, he made sure to finish them. you remembered the way his lean muscle would tighten and ripple in your grasp, holding on for dear life as you begged for him to thrust into you harder or squeeze you tighter.

get it together, y/n.

if you had a dollar for every time you'd had to yank yourself out of the gutter in just the span of one hour, you'd be rich enough to drop out of school.

you had allowed yourself to sit calf deep in the water at the end of the racing lane, but it wasn't until he reached you after knocking out 3 laps in a row that you regretted your decision. he emerged from the water with a big splash, throwing his head back and letting out the most erotic sigh you could imagine as he finally let air reach his lungs.

a lump formed in your throat, watching anton's buff chest rise and fall in tune with his breaths while both long arms gripped the edge of the pool on either side of your legs.

"what was my time for those?" the swimmer finally asked you once he had stabilized his breathing.

"oh! right, uhm...." you snap out of your chance, gut dropping when you looked down to the stop watching still ticking in your hand.

"you forgot to stop it, didn't you?" anton asked, a tone of more amusement rather than annoyance seeping through his smirk. "don't tell me you got distracted?"

"shit, i'm sorry." you groaned, annoyed with your own sexual frustration overtaking your ability to play it cool.

"it's fine." anton shrugged, pulling his body out of the water and plotting on to the ledge next you, making you flinched as copious amounts of water splashed around the concrete. "just let me fuck you."

your eyes widened, looking up to his mischievous eyes, and you swear you felt him leaning closer.

"what the fuck, ton?" you gasped, slightly punching his arm, savoring the split second of contact you made with his warm skin.

"god, its been like a month, y/n. i can't focus on conditioning and you can't even click a button for me, clearly." he chuckled. "lets just do it so i can have a good season."

you couldn't believe the causality he was saying all of this with. he did always call you his good luck charm, somehow managing to break his own personal record anytime you'd let him hit the night before or suck you off right before a meet, swallowing your cum like it was his own lewd type of protein shake.

it would also be a lie to an insane degree to say you didn't miss the way his soft skin felt gliding along yours whenever he would grind into you, his huge hands giving you a sense of stability in the way he would hold you down.

anton could tell from the way you were shamelessly biting your lip that you were thinking about it, taking the initiative to push your shoulders down until you were on your back.

he had barely let you utter out a desperate "okay" before he was rolling over on top of you, not hesitating for a second to drop his hips directly over yours so you could feel how hard his bulge had already gotten. you moaned aloud, hips immediately bucking up to meet his as he lowered his head to your neck, feathering wet kisses along your column.

the water dripping from his body was cold, but the warmth of his torso easily overcame it all when you needly reached for his back to pull the entirety of his weight onto you. you didn't realize how much you missed the rippling of his shoulder blades beneath your palms until you felt his body rolling in perfect tune with yours. you ran your hands all over his chiseled torso as you felt his hardened nipples brush against yours, and while you hopelessly wanted more you also didn't want this feeling to stop.

you felt a little pitiful, just sitting there allowing yourself to moan in pure bliss as your wet bodies press into each other, gripping anton's wide shoulders as his kisses picked up in heat. he was sucking hickeys into the sweet spot of your neck while his swim trunks tightened more and more as he humped against you, making you dizzier by the second.

"you sound so fucking hot whimpering for me like that." he moaned, licking a long trail up your neck to your jaw.

you didn't have any time to respond before he was pulling you into a searing kiss, his plump lips sloppily devouring yours while groaning into your mouth. you realized how much you missed the way he tasted, and silently cursed at yourself for going this long without him. you broke the kiss as your lungs began to need air, moaning out his name, just for him to grab your jaw and bring you back in for an overwhelmingly kiss. he was taking over every sense you had, filling your entire consciousness with nothing but thoughts of him. your hips bucked up incessantly, your body begging for him before your mouth could.

the hard concrete beneath you was starting to cause your limbs to ache as anton's mass pressed deeper into you, and he seemed to have read your mind, because before you knew it he was lifting himself off of you and dragging you into the water.

your mind was much too hazy to even register the vast difference in temperature, especially when you were clinging to anton like you needed him to breathe. it was as if something had taken over you and put you in the passenger seat of your own movements - all you could feel yourself doing was mumbling some endless pleas for him to fuck you before pulling him in to reconnect your lips in a hot kiss.

you could feel anton's shit eating grin against your lips as he backed you up against the poolside, slightly lifting his leg against the lower pool wall in order to guide you grinding your cock against his thigh. he took advantage of your loud moan to suck on your tongue, loving the way your fingers curled into his wet hair.

there was only so much you could handle before you were reaching below the water to pull your own swim trunks off, deciding that if anton didn't fuck you right then you might actually explode. anton helped you discard the shorts and send them flying somewhere atop of the water. the second you were free, you felt your cock on his abs, causing your hips to take action and grind against the muscle before you could even think about what you were doing.

some combined variant of a choked laugh and moan left antons mouth as he watched you throw your head back, obsessed with the way you were using his body to chase the pleasure you craved. he decided that he had his fun, slipping free from his trunks as well and lining himself up against you.

"deep breaths, baby." anton whispered, trying to sound confident but coming out as shaky neediness as well. you would normally laugh at how it almost sounded as if he were advising himself, but you were too far gone.

when he finally bottomed out in you, his size and the pressure of the water had your mind in a different realm. you clung to anton's round shoulders as he held you securely, giving you time to adjust after not having him in you for a month.

"this little ass still so tight and ready for me, i knew you missed me." he sighed out, giving you small experimenting rolls of his hips.

when you gripped him tighter and started fucking yourself on his cock, he knew he was in the clear to send you to oblivion, and thats exactly what he did.

between anton's desperation and the feeling of your member rubbing along his built torso, it didn't take much for either of you to approach your highs rapidly. you were soon announcing them to each other while you clung your slippery bodies tight together, the once still water around you turning into nothing less of a tsunami.

"'m cumming, ton." you cried out, just for him to hum in agreement.

he held the back of your neck, pushing your head down to make eye contact with him as you both hit your climax at the same time, an oddly intimate feeling settling over you in the moment and making your skin buzz.

panting against each other's faces, anton leaned in to claim your lips once more before you were both giggling like a couple of fools, padding your hands around the water as you brought yourselves down to earth.

it took a couple of moments for you to gasp horrendously at the realization of what you both just did, looking to anton with so much terror etched in your eyebrows that he couldn't help but laugh.

"did we just- the school's pool- we-" you sputtered aimlessly, only stopping once anton's hand emerged from the water to cover your mouth.

"don't worry about it, coach will handle it. he won't mind, because after that i'm about to bring this school three new medals this year."

© 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐧𝐬 — all rights reserved

[sehodreams]

https://x.com/archivetic/status/1758340676193046872?s=46

Anton's milf neighbour asked him to coach her and this is what it lead up to

Link (nsfw)

This was so good, my mind can't deal with all the scenarios, I quickly did this one but I imagined so many things I couldn't do something shorter.

TW and tags: dubcon at the start, humping, cheating, married!reader x younger!neighbor!Anton. WC: 1.9k

Anton had seen you walking around the neighborhood before, you were a young wife that had just moved with his older husband not many months ago, a pretty little thing that stayed alone in her big house obediently waiting for her husband to come back home and that always made his mother laugh.

You had started to warm up with the other mothers not long after you settled in, and you didn't have a child, but you had said how much you expected one, reason why you moved to his neighborhood, a calm part of the city with good schools around that looked out of a movie, the perfect place to start a family, so all of them welcomed you with open arms to the group.

His mother was one of the many wives that decided to dedicate to her family, and now that he was a lot older, had enough free time to befriend the neighbors and go out to enjoy her afternoons with the company of women like her, a group that happily included you.

"She said she's trying to get in shape before her anniversary, maybe you could help her and earn some pocket money this summer" she told him while they were having dinner. Anton was there only for the summer break and he didn't need to work, he never did it, but some extra cash sounded good, and when his dad nodded to what his mother said, it was decided, he'd go and coach the new cute neighbor.

When he knocked on your door you instantly melted his heart with your voice saying Just a second please, and when he saw your pretty smile saying his name, he knew he was fucked, "Anton, I've heard so much about you from your mother, thank you for helping me, I have no idea how to start".

You really had no idea how to start, a pretty little thing like you had never stepped into a gym or done any physical activity that didn't involve lifting your plants in your garden or pushing your furniture to rearrange the aesthetic of your living room.

He can guess why your husband snatched you so fast, if he had been in his place, he'd have done it too, the only thing your traditional family had taught you was how to be a good girl, and he was sure a man like the one you were with had smelled how fresh you were before he trapped you into marrying him.

You were older than him, five years at most, and you were almost three years married already, which meant you were barely older than him before you said yes to the housewife lifestyle.

You dropped out of college, you lived far from your family, and you didn't have friends your age. He was the closest thing you had to the taste of youth, and you received him so easily and with such honest intentions that, little by little, he had started to feel bad for taking advantage of you while training.

"Uhm do you really have to massage that place?" You asked when he made you lie over your stomach one day and his hands pressed its way from your calf to your ass, groping it with the excuse of not risking an injury before your session.

"Yes, we can't let you get hurt, we need to make sure your muscles here are relaxed enough before we continue" he said, making you nod. You weren't the expert, he was, he had trained for so many years, how could you even question his methods?

He had convinced you that everything he did was for your benefit, and if his hand pressed spots like under your chest, the inside of your thighs, or even your ass, it was only to check on your health.

You were uncomfortable with his touch, but you couldn't deny it, it also made your insides tingle, and you felt an excitement you had missed for a long time.

When you were young you would have that exact feeling when your friends told you to sneak out for a party since your dad never let you go out late, or when you knew your curfew was getting closer but you had already lied saying how you were studying at your friend's house when all you were doing was watch movies or talk about boys.

It's not that you don't like the married lifestyle, you love it, you don't have to think about what to do for work or how to pay your bills, you don't have to worry about your dad yelling at you for getting low grades and you can simply enjoy your day if you cleaned and had your husband's dinner ready before he arrived.

However, you couldn't say you were completely satisfied either.

Your husband was handsome and nice, but sometimes he couldn't make you feel as good as when you started accepting him into your bed, it seemed that after the honeymoon phase he was more interested in his big cases than helping you cum at night, and you were getting a bit bored of the exact same routine every day, waking up, cooking, dusting your living room, checking that your plants were okay and then waiting for him to arrive and repeat.

If it wasn't for the older ladies, you would have started crocheting to see if that kept you busy enough.

Still, even if Anton's touch made you feel good, you knew it was wrong to feel like that with another man's hands. You were a good girl, a good wife, and having your panties dripping after your cute younger neighbor came to help you train one hour a day was something that made you feel ashamed of yourself.

The worst part was that you couldn't hide it. Your cheeks would get red every time his mother said hi to you in the supermarket or when all the neighborhood wives met to have a cup of tea.

"I hope my son is treating you well" she would say, and you would only nod with a smile, hiding your face with your cup or grabbing one of the numerous mini snacks to change the subject into how kind the host that day was.

You were sure no one would blame you if they were in your situation. The sensation of the touch from a man like Anton, so big ang strong, would make anyone weak. His hands on your hips and his cock on your ass when he made you do sit ups, or his fingers sinking into the side of your chest to make sure your position didn't break while you lifted those dumbbells would push any other woman like you into doing even more, so you tried to just brush off those thoughts, because, after all, you never crossed any line.

Or at least you never did it until that day.

Anton had made you lie over your back this time, and your eyes tried to not look at the pretty boy over you, focusing on your white ceiling instead.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay? We need to check your flexibility before we try the next exercise" he said while lifting one of your legs and, with his crotch against your clothed sex, putting it over his shoulder.

Your heart started to pound and a choked whimper left your throat when you felt the first push.

Anton was pushing your leg as much as he could with the help of his weight over you, and he wasn't hard, but you could still feel his member and its form opening your lips and resting between them as if it belonged there.

You tried to ignore the way his hand had a firm grip over the back of your thigh and the exhale he gave when he pushed his cock against you once again, getting slightly harder with each thrust.

That wasn't just warming up at all, you weren't that dumb to not notice the way his hips were clashing harder and harder against you, the sounds that left his mouth were too obscene to be a mere exercise, and if anyone could see you two like that, they would instantly notice that something else was starting to happen to the boy.

You moved your eyes from the ceiling to his face, and you could see how his eyes were fluttering and he tried to control his breathing without success. The saliva accumulating inside his mouth made him gulp with every push and his eyes started to get more shiny with every second that passed.

He had a full erection at some point, and you should've stopped him, you told yourself to push him out of your way and warn him to never come back if he didn't want to hear from your husband, but just that little action of his hips against yours made you dizzy, a similar sensation to when husband first touched you, and you needed an orgasm so much that your body, instead of listening to your mind and do what was correct, opened your legs to complete receive him.

He didn't waste any second and started to rut against you, and the two of you were dressed, so you tried to convince yourself that it wasn't incorrect if it wasn't sex.

If you didn't take anything off, if you didn't let him sink his cock inside you, it wasn't cheating. You were just helping a young boy to find some relief, and that was almost like an exercise too, you two were fully clothed and you were dripping over each other, but it was like sweat, so that should be considered more as stretching than anything else, right?

You couldn't hold your voice back, Anton was pounding so deliciously over you that your insides started to clench, and you started to wonder, if he felt that good without directly touching you, how would he would make you feel if he just fucked you.

He was a lot bigger than your husband, his tip was leaving a big wet spot over his joggers and your yoga pants were getting dirty with your own slick, showing him exactly where he should thrust with his cock.

"This is just exercise, you need to train your core too" he said, and you, even if you knew it was all pure bullshit, nodded.

"You're right, Anton, I need it" you cried when you felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm.

Clenching over nothing, with hips jolting to meet his, you felt yourself cumming hard inside your pants, and he, doing it at the same time, left a loud moan while his hands pressed hard at your thighs.

He tried to control how much he was panting, his forehead was wet and his cock was twitching inside his clothes, a mess he would have to hide until he ran to his house at the end of the street and that made him wish he could let everything out inside your warm walls the next time.

He could already imagine how pretty you would look opening your legs and showing him your naked cunt so he could give you what your husband couldn't, because if you were so needy, Anton was sure it was his fault that you accepted someone else's touch.

Before he gave you a last thrust, out of greed because he didn't have anything else to pour, he talked, "we should repeat it, stretching is really important, so, tomorrow same time?"

[squoxle]

✏ TNAIT 001: If You Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'Em l.at fanfic

✰ pairing: nerdy!bandboy!anton x cheerleader!fem!reader | ✰ wc: 2.1k | ✰ cw: profanity, sexual themes |✰ plot: after receiving your midterm report, your parents threaten to pull you off the cheer squad if you don't pull your grades up. so, you take the advice of your best friend to seek help. [Series Masterlist]

“If I don’t see those grades going up soon, you’re done with cheerleading,” your dad spat at the dinner table.

“But my team needs me,” you whined. “I can’t leave in the middle of cheer season.”

“Do I look like I care about any of that?” He sneered. “This is an all-A’s family. And your grades are embarrassing,” he continued as he pulled out your midterm report. “Not a single A. And the worst part is that you’re failing math.”

“But that professor is a complete jerk.”

“I hardly ever see you studying. You go to class, come home, play your phone, and goof off with your friends. This university is very expensive and I will not continue funding your education if you’re gonna perform like this. School is about more than cheer.”

“But—”

“No buts. I don’t want to hear another word. Fix it or you’re done,” he said cutting into his steak.

“Listen to your father, honey. It’s very important that you maintain a good academic standing so you can get into a nice law school. Both your father and I graduated with a very high GPA—”

“3.75 and higher,” your father budded in.

“Exactly, so if you need a tutor—”

“I’m not stupid. I can do it by myself,” you mumbled. Even though you desperately wanted the help you knew this was a trap. Your father would not be happy if you were willing to give up that quickly.

“Ok,” your mother nodded. “But remember if you need the help it’s available for you.”

Being honest with yourself, you didn't want to go to law school and be a lawyer anyways. But you knew that your parents weren't going to let you graduate with a career as a cheerleader. They wanted you to have a real profession and since you couldn't pick fast enough, your father chose for you.

A job that was perfect for a sophisticated young woman and possibly a way for you to meet a good husband, or at least that's what your parents were telling you.

You finished dinner and went to bed. But not without logging onto your computer and checking your grades for each course.

• Politics — 79.47% • English — 82.97% • Math — 68.12% • Geography — 75.83%

"There's no way in hell I'm gonna be able to bring these grades up in time," you groaned as you closed your laptop and collapsed into your pillow.

"Is it just me or do you feel like cheerleaders are basically strippers in training," Chanyoung said as he opened his locker.

"Nah, they definitely are. Just think about it. They flip around and shake their asses in skirts so short that a small breeze will be enough to expose everything underneath," Dongmin replied as he leaned against the locker beside Chanyoung. "I'm not complaining, I'm just saying," he mumbled.

"No, you're right. And from what I can see is that the majority of them are brainless bimbos who've most likely sucked their way through school," Chanyoung said pulling out a few tablets to shove into his backpack.

"I bet you'd love to have some brainless bimbo suck you off," Dongmin chuckled. "You can't even lie and say that you wouldn't take the chance if it was given to you."

"I mean..."

"Exactly. I'm not calling you a hypocrite or anything, I just want you to be real with yourself," Dongmin said as Chanyoung zipped up his backpack, lugging it on his back. "Hell, I wouldn't even pass up an offer like that," he added, slightly bumping Chanyoung's shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess," Chanyoung shrugged.

"Anyways, I gotta go. I'll catch ya later tonight at the game, alright? Our usual spot," Dongmin nodded before walking off, leaving Chanyoung behind.

"Alright, see ya," he waved gently before walking down the hall.

Chanyoung wasn't entirely wrong, you knew a couple girls on the squad who did a few "extra credit assignments." After hearing about your situation one of the girls even offered to hook you up with the guy that helped her.

"Honestly, it sounds worse than it really is," Abigail said, her blonde hair falling in her face as she tied her shoelaces. "Having some pervy nerd pull up your grades is easy. Trust me, my grades were even worse than yours. And now I have a 3.5 GPA and nothing lower than a B on my transcript," she smiled before standing up to walk over to the mirror, adjusting her uniform.

"Yeah, but wouldn't it be weird if we use the same guy?" You asked.

"Hmm, I mean...I don't think so. Xoey and I had a threesome with him and he loved it. We also got a perfect 100 on our group presentation without editing a single slide," she beamed.

You bit your lower lip, considering the tempting option that had been placed before you.

"Look, if you don't want to get help from Jake, then you can find your own unsuspecting nerd who's willing to help you out in exchange for some action," she smirked, clipping a bow in her hair.

"Guys! What the hell are you still doing in here?" your brown-skinned cheermate, Nova, spat while waving her pom-poms around as she spoke. "You need to get on the field right now! Coach is already pissed," she said, her curly hair bouncing as she jogged away.

"Coming!" Abigail shouted. "We'll talk about this after the game okay," she said, shaking your shoulder before the two of you ran out together.

You met the sharp green eyes of Coach Sam, who looked about as pissed off as you expected her to be. "If you hadn't noticed by the raging crowd behind these doors, we have a big game tonight ladies! Remember your timing! Watch your step! And please, for the love of god, don't fuck this up!" she shouted before placing her black cap on, covering her shaggy dark brown hair.

She blew the whistle, signaling you all to do your signature walk out onto the field to open the game. You just tried your best to focus as you did the first cheer of the game. After you finished, you and the rest of your squad sat down on the benches.

"Abigail. ____," Coach Sam said tapping your shoulders.

"Yes, Coach?"

"If either of you pull some shit like that again you'll be running laps from sun-up to sun-down. Understand?"

"Yes, Coach," you answered in unison.

This game was important for three reasons.

1. If your university won, that meant you were going out of state for the next game.

2. There were cheer scouters watching tonight and the possibility of being picked increased with your performance.

3. This could be one of your last games if you can't figure out what to do about your grades.

"There's no A in cheer," your father's words echoed in your head.

"But there is in cheat," you thought to yourself.

As much as you didn't want to, you took Abigail's advice and scoped the bleachers for the perfect target. Dorky, lonely, and horny...but most importantly, smart.

Chanyoung and Dongmin sat at the very top row of the second tier, in the seats farthest to the left. You set your eyes on the dark-haired boy and his friend.

Curious to know who they were, you whispered to your cheermate Janice, asking if she recognized him. She knew almost everybody, especially since her dad was the dean of the university.

So it was no surprise that she was also head cheerleader and you were sure she had already secured a spot on a professional football team after college. That’s just how her family operated. Paying their way through life.

“Oh, that’s Lee Chanyoung and Han Dongmin, they're both a part of the university's orchestra. You'll usually see them hanging out together. Literally, like all the time."

Introducing New Target: Lee Chanyoung. Age 20. Perfectly talented brainbot. Not only was he in a highly desired honors society, but he was also a part of the college's orchestra.

You nearly smacked yourself in the face as you thought back to the first week of uni and how you were forced to attend the opening recital with your parents. "Classical music is a good way to lighten your mood and increase productivity,” your father said as you sat sandwiched between him and your mother.

Sometimes you hated the amount of pressure your parents put on you to be perfect. Unrealistic expectations that they couldn’t even meet themselves…at least not without pulling their hair out.

You were trying to find a balance between school and life. Yes, school could prove to be very beneficial for you in the future and a great investment, but you didn’t want to let life pass you by while you had your nose shoved 16 chapters deep in a textbook.

After Janice finished reciting what sounded like their admissions speech, you waited until the game was over to put your plan into action.

You texted Abigail to let her know that you’d be looking for a study partner tonight so she wouldn’t worry about where you were. But she told you to make it quick. She promised to wait around to take you home that way you had an alibi for staying out late.

The stands were clearing out as the game came to an end and you ran across the field to catch up with Chanyoung and Dongmin, throwing your bag over your shoulder.

"Hey!" you called out, hoping they'd hear you.

If they did...great, you could move on to step two, but if they didn't you would die of embarrassment.

"Uhh, are you talking to us?" Dongmin asked, turning around and tilting his head as Chanyoung paused beside him.

"Yeah," you said shyly.

"Oh my god. I can't believe I'm actually crumbling right now," you thought to yourself.

"Umm...well I know we don't really know each other, but I need some help," you tried your best to be confident, but you couldn't shake the fact that this felt like downright prostitution. "It'll just be for a couple of weeks to help me pull up my grades."

"Uhh--"

"I'll pay you for it," you spat. Maybe there was a way to get some assistance without having to degrade yourself--no shame to Abby. She did what she thought was right.

"Well, as much as I'd love to help you, I'm already swamped," Dongmin shrugged before a mischievous smirk crept across his face. "But my buddy Chanyoung is more than available."

"I am?" Chanyoung said, eyes widening in shock. That was the first time you heard his quiet voice since you came over.

"Of course you are," he winked, patting his friend on the shoulder. "He's been telling me all about how easy this semester has been on him and that he has way too much free time and nothing to do with it."

"Really?!" you asked, surprised everything was going so smoothly. Maybe you would be able to pick up your grades without having to lose your dignity after all.

"Oh yeah. Trust me," Dongmin smiled. "He can help you out with your little...issue."

Okay...this Dongmin guy was acting a little suspicious, but you needed all the help you could get. Beggars can't be choosers, right?

"Okay," you said pulling your phone out of the side pocket of your bag. "Let me just give you both my number so that we can keep in touch. I really appreciate your help," you unlocked your phone before opening your contacts.

Dongmin put in both of their numbers while Chanyoung stood beside him not saying a word. "There ya go," Dongmin smiled handing you back your phone.

"Thank you so much," you smiled. "Can I meet up with you tomorrow?"

"T-tomorrow?" Chanyoung stuttered.

"Umm yeah. I want to get started as soon as possible...if that's okay."

"Oh, yeah of course. That's fine. He'll meet you tomorrow in the library," Dongmin reassured you, wrapping his arm around his friend.

“That’s great,” you smiled. “Will you be there too?”

“Me? Oh no, like I said before, this is all my buddy Channie. He’s got nothing better to do than help a friend…well a new friend,” something about the cheesy grin plastered across his face was unsettling, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

“Okay that’s fine. Just text me what times you’re available tomorrow and I’ll meet you then,” you smiled.

“____! Girl come on let’s go!” Abby shouted from across the field. You saw her from a distance, checking her pretend watch, taping her foot.

“Sorry guys, I gotta go now. See ya,” you waved before joining Abby.

You hopped into her bright yellow convertible, leaving the boys behind on the field.

Everything was looking great for you. You had a study date planned with a total book nerd. Hopefully, he will be a little less shy tomorrow, otherwise, you didn’t expect to make much progress.

Thanks for reading the first episode of my series. [Series Masterlist]

Click this link to go to my main masterlist and stay tuned for the next episodes.

CURRENT TAGLIST: @chlorinecake @addictedtohobi @nikisvanillaccola @laylasbunbunny @urfavberry @antonitty @billiondollarworth @meowbini @mamuljji @riizeis-7 @littlebrightsrar @jisfairy @galorehearts @misfit-nvrfitin @siuewnb @ot7sevenlvr @earth2hannah @professsionalsimp @fairyofhours @wonbinkisser @lovelymulti @annielovescry @antosaurius @inlovekyo @luv4stxrs @v4mpsunghoon @rikiiminaj @brachiobun @pointlessapple @antititititoni @mrkvrse @ywnzn @kisplayhouse @strawberryhillsworld @cartimitsuya @jungwon15 @hanni711 @tsukkiteamo @hajoon-iz-won @songgmingii @bloodiichainzzxx @sunnynearthecoast @riris-a-mess @deewly @ericlvr @freeluvbot @pandajihoonn @mint-yooniverse @pwarksasteroid @huan9jun @zixoxos @snowyseungs @mintmyg @moonchild-please-dont-cry @taeheartss @seesawh @chloelr60 @dodot04lover @firedalarm-blog @kazscara

[ihaznoclue]

Hello it's me again is it ok if I request a lycaon, Anton, Ben, zhu yuan x fem reader who is wife of lycaon, Anton,Ben, Zhu yuan bringing their husbands/wife some food during their work!

Sorry love but I don't do Zhu Yuan, I hope just doing Lycaon, Anton and Ben is enough

Pairings -> Von Lycaon, Anton Ivanov, Ben Bigger x Wife Reader

Warnings -> None

Note -> Just their wife Reader bringing them lunch during work

Genre -> Fluff

Von Lycaon

This man always seems to forget to eat lunch or even bring his lunch to work, so you decided to make him lunch the day before he went to work

But the thing is you forgot to give it to him so you decided to vist him at work instead

Let's hope nothing happens while you're there

You started to walk over to the mansion that Lycaon and his members of Victoria Housekeeping work at for clients or just to simply keep the mansion spotless

You came up to the door, knocking it twice. A few seconds you heard silent until you heard footsteps coming towards the door as they opened it

It was Corin

"A-Ah! Name, What are you doing here?" She stuttered over, you simply smiled

"I'm here to give Lycaon something, If you don't mind. Can I come in?" You asked

Corin nodded as she opened the door more to let you in, Corin decided to lead you to where Lycaon was

He was in a room doing some work, "Mr. Lycaon, name is here to see you" Corin spoke then walked away to do her own business

"Ah, Love. What are you doing here?" He asked, you showed him a bento

"I made you lunch for today, but I forgot to give it to you, so here" You spoke as you gave it to Lycaon

"Why Thank you dear" Lycaon smiled back

"Your welcome, Call me If you need me"

Anton Ivanov

Tis dude always forget because he's so busy with his other stuff, like fixing his bro or the expensive he just completely forgeting every time

So you decided to go to his work and give it to him, you feel like he would be looking for his lunch right about now

So you drove to his work site at Belobog Industries as you saw many people working on something important, Koelda and Grace was having a talk to you went up to them

"Oh Hello Name, What are you here for?" Grace asked, you showed them Anton's lunch bento

"I'm here to give Anton his lunch, Is it okay If I give it to him?" You asked, Koleda nodded as she nodded her head to the direction Anton was at

He was sitting down, looking upset

You could hear him mumble something about being hungry, you chuckled catching the attention of your boyfriend

"Babe! What are you doing here?" Anton asked

"You forgot your lunch silly, So I drove here to give it to you while work" You smiled proudly as you gave him the bento

"I was wondering where it was" He nervously laughed as he scratched the back of his neck

"Thank babe"

"No worried, I'll have to remind you next time before you leave" You chuckled

Ben Bigger

It looks like this big guys forgot his lunch at home because he was too busy with the drone and machine insurances, Because of grace he had to pay for the damages that the machine caused

He look tired and now he forgot his lunch, poor guy

So you decided to drive to his work site to give him his bento, its the thing you wanted to do because he was taking care of you the most

So you came up to his work site and got out of the car and walked up to Anton to asked where Ben was

"Hey Anton" You smiled, Anton smiled back "Oh Name, Hey. What are you doing here all of a sudden?" He asked

"I'm here to bring Ben his lunch, I bet his hungry right now. Do you know where he is?" You asked, Anton said that he was talking to Koleda who was the president for the work site

You spotted him as you thank Anton who went back to work, you tapped on Ben's back as he jumped a little but then turned around

"Oh Name! What are you doing here?" He asked, You smiled as you showed his bento box that was filled with his lunch

"Forgot your lunch honey, So i came here to give it to you" You gave the bento to Ben as he smiled

"Thank you so much Love, I was wondering where it was" He spoke

"Well You're lucky because I always remember" You smiled

-A<3

[orangflowalober]

What do you mean dad went out to get milk?!

Pairing: Park Jay Jongseong x Reader

Genre: crack, established relationship

Summary: your darling children Artemis and Anton get the wrong idea when you tell them their dad is going out to get milk

Word count: 936

Warnings: mentions of food- tiramisu and milk, talks of divorce

A/n: just a random idea I got and I thought it was absolutely hilarious so I just had to write it hehe

~

“Mooooooooom!”

You heard a yell and thumping on the stairs from your place in the kitchen where you were doing your best to make the tiramisu cake while keeping an ear out for your seventeen year old daughter.

As if following in her mum's genetic footsteps, she looked so much like her dad, only with her hair being similar to your own- long and brown. Her eyes were black and her face had that ever-present sleepiness that her father had too. 

“Mom, where's dad?” you heard her ask, “I need his help with something”

But while you were keeping your eyes and focus on the melting pot in front of you, you didn’t really pay attention to what was leaving your mouth.

“He went out to get milk” you responded, eyes zeroing in on what you were supposed to add next into the mixture in front of you.

Meanwhile, Artemis’ gut dropped.

Went out to get milk???

THEY'RE DIVORCING????

She quickly let out a choked okay and ran back up the stairs, hearing you absentmindedly call out to her; for the thousand time, do not run up the stairs Artemis!

“ANTON!” the brown-haired girl yelled bursting into her twin's bedroom.

The boy had features eerily similar to their aunt (ironically) with a dash of their dads more prominent features; his nose and eye shape namely. His green eye-colour almost felt out of place. His black hair was pushed back by the headset he wore.

“What is it ‘mis?” he groaned, words dripping with annoyance as he put pause on his game.

“Dad went out to get milk,” she said, her voice grave.

Anton merely raised an eyebrow at her and laughed, mocking her.

“Ha ha ‘mis,” he said, voice deadpan, just like his dad’s, “that's a good one.”

“Mum's words” she interrupted him, her black eyes wide and hand on the door trembling, “not a joke.”

Anton stared at her, for long ten seconds, waiting for the impending moment when she would say “SIKE!” and laugh at his blank expression. 

But the moment never came.

“They're seriously divorcing?” he wondered aloud, eyes clouded with betrayal, “Without telling us?”

“I don't know,” Artemis murmured.

“Mum? And dad?” he kept repeating to himself, “Those two are obsessed with each other…?”

Artemis only stood quietly at the door.

But then she got a brilliant idea.

~

“Jay, did you get the milk?” you asked in a hurry seeing your husband at the entrance of the kitchen.

“Yeah” he responded, panting heavily, passing his wife the carton of milk, “I hurried As much as I could hon.”

He stood behind the island in the middle of the kitchen watching you fret over the tiramisu. 

“Hand it over” you reached over, taking it from his grasp, “I need to hurry up so it can cool before that maniac Sunghoon comes.” you huffed, sounding annoyed, knowing you wanted the tiramisu to be the best as possible because both you and Jay missed your good friend.

~

“Mom, dad?” Anton called from the door of the living room with Artemis next to him, holding a laptop. “Can we talk to you guys?” he asked cautiously.

You should have known that your two teenagers were up to something the moment they asked that.

They’re never this polite.

“It's serious” Artemis supplied quickly.

You blinked, surprised.

“Sure”, you murmured, separating from the huge shelf next to the window, walking over to the couch where your husband was already sitting.

“Is everything okay?” Jay asked, face scrunching in worry.

Your twins only looked at each other as Artemis plugged the laptop to the TV and fixed her blazer.

Wait.

Blazers?

“Why are you two wearing suits?” You asked.

“Mum, wait please” Anton requested, with an air of an exasperated lawyer, “all will be explained in due time.”

Your eyebrows raised and you and Jay made quick eye contact as your children started bickering about something.

“So.” Artemis started. “We are all here today, present to discuss-”

“Plead” Anton added, making Jay squint at his son.

“Your not-so-impending divorce.”

“Wait what?” You interrupted, confused

“Who's getting divorced?? Jay asked surprised, feeling a good decade being shaved off his life.

Anton and Artemis looked beyond stressed.

They looked at each other and Artemis spoke up.

“Mum said that you went out to get milk and-”

“Artemis, baby,” you interrupted her in a gentle voice, seeing your younger almost in tears, “I was making tiramisu for when your uncle comes,” you explained, “your dad literally went out to buy milk.”

The two boys looked lost and Artemis was slowly starting to look embarrassed. 

“Why would you even get that impression?” Jay was confused, “Why would I want to divorce your mother?”

“You know dad,” Anton said with a dead look in his eye, “we know you're a simp. It's more about what mum wants.”

At that you burst out into laughter, getting up to hug your kiddos and caress their hair, listening to Jay's outraged sounds in the background.

“You don't have to worry about a thing my darlings,” you told them gently, before your face took on a more serious look, “And even if it does come down to divorce, that's NOT how you're finding out.”

“WHY ARE YOU STILL TALKING ABOUT DIVORCE” Jay cried.

~ Of course, this story was later told to Sunghoon who came to visit them and naturally his reaction was to burst into laughter and mercilessly tease both Jay and his niece and nephew (you probably wouldn't have been spared if you hadn't shot him a threatening look and a promise of taking away the tiramisu).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My dearest girls: @ch3rryc0smos & @janaicetea

if anyone wants to be a part of the taglist send an ask <3

[anton-luvr]

# 7:34am ; JUNG SUNGCHAN.

𖦹 husband!sungchan x gn!reader | fluff | slice of life au 𖦹 note ; sth short but sweet for my sungchan hehe <3 + reqs are open!

If Sungchan could turn back time, he’d definitely demand a refund for the parenting classes he had taken.

Sure, they were great and they covered almost everything.

Keyword: almost.

How to change a diaper? Sungchan's a professional.

How to properly feed a baby? Sungchan’s got it done and the baby burped.

How to bathe a baby? Sungchan created bath time for babies.

How to send a baby to daycare while running late to work because of an accidental sleep-in?

Good question.

“Have you seen my tie?” Sungchan asks urgently, trying his best to look for the black fabric while carrying your grumpy daughter.

“Too early!” she complains, sleepily hitting his chest. “I want sleep!”

Her whines set a headache in your head and you wince, trying to ignore it while you helped your husband search for his tie.

“Here it is! Quick, put it on and I’ll get her ready.” you rushed, tossing Sungchan his tie and picking your child out of his arms.

Like a hurricane, the three of you bustle and stumble to get ready, rushing out of the door after ten minutes of struggling.

“I’ll drop her off fi- woah!” Sungchan shouts in surprise, slipping on the steps.

Unfortunately, you and your daughter slip as well, which leads to the three of you landing on the ground.

“Is she okay?” you asked with a groan, sitting up sorely.

“Me good!”

You can’t help but laugh at your daughter’s cheery tone of reassurance, as well as the gummy smile she flashes you as she holds up a thumbs up.

Sungchan laughs along as well, panting as he stays on the ground. “Let’s just lie down like this for a moment. I need to catch my breath.” he sighs.

“Look! Sky is pretty!" your daughter points out, pointing up at the blue sky.

“Yeah.” Sungchan says softly, eyes locked with yours.

“The view is pretty.”

© anton-luvr, 2023.

[riecoeur]

luch break.

pairing — husband!sungchan x fem!reader

summary — you and your husband sungchan have been navigating married life alongside his whirlwind idol career with riize. when a mix-up in his schedule leads you to drop off a homemade lunch during a live practice session, fans catch a glimpse of the mysterious "mrs. jung," sparking chaos online.

warnings — none, just pure fluff and a tiny bit of embarrassment for sungchan!

📌 any feedback are appreciated, i’d love to know what you think of my first mini-series, request open or send ask → 💌🦕🩵 !

🏷️ taglist ; @strawbrryvyy

your apartment smells like soy sauce and sesame oil, a faint hint of the kimbap you’d spent the morning rolling. you glance at the clock.

11:47 a.m.

and figure you’ve got just enough time to swing by the company before sungchan’s practice break. he’d texted you last night, voice groggy from a late rehearsal, promising he’d be free around noon.

“bring me something good, please.”

he’d teased, and you’d laughed, already planning the little lunchbox in your head.

you slip on a hoodie, grab the bento bag, and head out, the spring air are cool. it’s a short walk to the building, and the security guard gives you a familiar nod as you flash your visitor pass, perks of being jung sungchan’s wife, even if you still feel a little shy about it. you’re used to sneaking in and out quietly, keeping things low-key. sungchan’s fans know he’s married, but you’ve both been careful about keeping your face off the radar.

the practice room’s just down the hall, and you can already hear the thump of music through the walls.

you pull out your phone to text him.

y/n:

here with food, you on break soon?

but before you can hit send, the door swings open, and sohee’s grinning face pops out.

“y/n! perfect timing… wait, you’re here now?”

he blinks, then waves you in. “come on, sungchan hyung’s gonna flip.”

“is he not on break?”

you hesitate, clutching the bag tighter. the music’s still going, a steady beat you vaguely recognize as one of their new tracks.

“uh, not exactly,” sohee says, scratching his neck.

“we’re live. like, right now. but it’s fine, he’s starving anyway.”

your stomach drops.

“live? as in… camera?”

“yep! don’t worry, you’ll be quick.”

he’s already tugging you inside before you can protest, and the room hits you all at once, bright lights, a couple of staff adjusting equipment, and the boys mid-choreography.

sungchan’s in the center, sweat glistening on his forehead, his tank top clinging to his broad frame as he hits a sharp turn. he spots you mid-move, and you swear you see his foot catch for a split second. his eyes widen, and then he’s grinning, that big, boyish smile that still makes your heart skip.

“y/n?”

he calls, voice cutting through the music. the others falter too, turning to look, and you feel your face heat up as wonbin smirks and eunseok raises an eyebrow.

“uh, hi,”

you manage, holding up the bag like it’s a shield.

“i brought lunch?”

the staff don’t miss a beat, one of them pans the camera slightly, catching your awkward wave before sungchan jogs over, waving them off.

“cut it, cut it,” he laughs, though his cheeks are pink.

“this wasn’t part of the plan.”

“jagi, what plan?” you mutter, handing him the bento.

“you said noon.”

“i meant i’d call you at noon,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“we got held up. this is… uh… live on youtube right now.”

you freeze. “wait, what?”

“yeah, like, twelve thousand people watching,”

sohee chimes in, peeking over sungchan’s shoulder.

“hi, y/n-noona! the chat’s going crazy.”

“oh my god,” you whisper, stepping back, but sungchan grabs your wrist gently, pulling you closer.

“it’s fine, they didn’t see much,” he says, voice low and reassuring.

“just… stay here a sec, okay? i’m dying for this.”

he opens the bag, peering inside, and his whole face lights up.

“kimbap? you’re the best.”

“you’re welcome,”

you mumble, still mortified. the others are already crowding around, anton snagging a piece before sungchan can swat his hand away.

“dude, she made it for me,”

sungchan protests, but he’s laughing, that easy, warm sound that always puts you at ease.

the staff call them back to finish the session, and you slip out as quietly as you can, heart pounding.

by the time you’re halfway home, your phone’s buzzing texts from friends, a couple of notifications from X.

‘sungchan’s wife spotted?’

one post reads, with a blurry screenshot of you handing him the bag.

another.

‘who’s the lunch angel???’

you groan, burying your face in your hands. so much for low-key.

it’s past eight when sungchan finally gets home, the apartment quiet except for the sound of the tv you’d left on. you’re curled up on the couch, scrolling through the chaos online.

fan edits,

theories,

even a fan-screenrecord of him blushing when you walked in. he drops his gym bag by the door and flops next to you, still in his hoodie, smelling faintly of sweat and cologne.

“yeobo,” he says, nudging your shoulder.

“you okay?”

“i’m fine,” you say, setting your phone down.

“you’re the one who got ambushed by your own wife on live.”

he laughs, head tipping back against the cushion.

“honestly? worth it. the guys wouldn’t shut up about how good the kimbap was. and the fans, god, they’re insane. someone called you ‘lunch fairy’ already.”

“i saw,” you say, biting back a smile.

“i didn’t mean to blow up your spot.”

“nah, it’s cool,”

he says, turning to face you. his eyes are soft, a little tired, but there’s that spark in them, like he’s still riding the high of seeing you earlier.

“i like that they know i’ve got someone taking care of me.”

your cheeks warm. “yeah?”

“yeah.” he leans closer, resting his forehead against yours.

“plus, you looked cute, all flustered like that. made my day.”

“shut up,” you mutter, shoving his chest lightly, but he just catches your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. his thumb brushes over your knuckles, and for a second, it’s just the two of you.

no cameras, no fans, no schedules.

“thanks for the food,” he says quieter, like it’s a secret.

“and for dealing with… all this.”

“anytime,” you reply, squeezing his hand.

“but next time, text me the right schedule, okay?”

he grins, pulling you into his side until you’re tucked against him, his arm heavy around your shoulders.

“deal. now, wanna see the clip of me tripping when i saw you? sohee sent it to me.”

you laugh, nodding as he pulls out his phone, the warmth of him next to you chasing away the day’s chaos. maybe the internet’s losing its mind, but here, with sungchan’s arm around you and his laugh, it feels like everything’s exactly where it should be.

[anonymousewrites]

Burden of Truth (Book 1) Chapter Nine

Father Figure! Marc Spector x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Steven Grant x Teen! Reader

Mother Figure! Layla El-Faouly x Teen! Reader

Chapter Nine: In the Skies

Summary: (Y/N), Marc, and Layla fight for their lives and work with the gods to discover the location of Ammit's tomb.

            (Y/N), Marc, and Layla stood still as the guards kept their guns trained on them. A single wrong move would get them shot, and they were in a bad enough position without being injured or dead.

            Mogart approached Marc, eyes narrowed. “Do you really think I’m an idiot? Get on your knees.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened. “No, don’t!” A guard grabbed them roughly and jerked them back.

            “Anton, don’t!” said Layla in alarm, but another guard grabbed her arm to keep her from trying anything.

            “Get on your knees,” repeated Mogart.

            Clenching his jaw, Marc got down on his knees.

            Satisfied, Mogart looked back at Layla and tutted. “Layla, I was so ready to make peace with you.”

            “You don’t understand. We’re trying to save many lives,” said Layla.

            “Hey, pal. Take a look inside the sarcophagus,” said Marc. “There’s something really, really big.”

            Lie. A trick with enough possibility of proverbial truth to lure Mogart closer.

            He stepped towards the sarcophagus, but Bek stopped him. He leaned down to Mogart’s ear and spoke in hushed French.

            “There’s someone here to see you. He claims to know these three’s true identities and has information for your collection,” said Bek, and (Y/N)’s mind translated it in a instance.

            “Well, that’s interesting,” said Mogart, cocking his head and looking around at the group. “It appears we have a concerned third party here.” He stepped into the doorway, and the guards forced (Y/N), Marc, and Layla after him.

            Walking towards them with allies on either side was Harrow. “Whatever they’ve told you, I’m sure I can offer you something much more tangible.” Straight to the point.

            He lifted the scarab, gleaming gold in the moonlight. Mogart’s greedy eyes landed on the scarab hungrily.

            “Why settle for a clue when you can have the treasure?” suggested Harrow.

            Lie, lie, lie! “Don’t listen to him, he won’t give you anything!” said (Y/N), and the cold metal of a gun pressed into their head. (Y/N) quieted, and the gun was pulled back slightly.

            “Anton. Anton, don’t listen to this man,” said Layla forcefully as they were dragged back across the lawn. “He’s trying to stop us from reaching—”

            “Please, stop,” snapped Mogart.

            “He’s gonna kill millions, trust me!” said Layla.

            Mogart scoffed. “Are you seriously talking about trust?”

            “Please, there’s no need to descend into violent accusations,” said Harrow, acting as the ever-calm sage. “Each of you has so much more in common than you know.” Harrow looked at Layla. “Layla, you keep thinking that distance will prevent the wounds from your father’s murder from reopening. But something stands in your way. Your husband doesn’t tell you the truth.” Layla and (Y/N) furrowed their brows and looked at Marc in confusion. He shook his head, but that didn’t stop Harrow from speaking. “And Marc, you don’t tell her because you know that if you do, she’ll see you exactly as you see yourself, as unworthy of love.”

            “You piece of shit,” said Marc, narrowing his eyes.

            “And (Y/N)—” Harrow’s gaze landed on them, and, instinctively, they avoided eye-contact, unable to sustain it “—you think that the only way you deserve to live is by serving a god because if you don’t, you might as well have died in 2018.”

            Flinching, (Y/N) squeezed their hand into a fist. Their nails dug into their palm, and they focused on the sensation. Anything but that memory. Anything but that thought. Anything but that agony.

            Satisfied, Harrow lifted his cane, and the stones glowed purple. The light reflected in Mogart’s enchanted gaze. “The lore surrounding these relics, I offer proof that it’s real.” He looked around. “This sarcophagus doesn’t belong to anyone.”

            “Do it. Summon the suit.” Khonshu’s voice echoed across the lawn.

            “Call it to you,” said Ma’at, and (Y/N) glanced to the roof to see her standing with Khonshu.

            “Give them what they deserve,” said Khonshu.

            “Anton. Would you like to see for yourself?” said Harrow.

            Almost hypnotized by the prospect of power, Mogart nodded and approached Harrow. “I do.”

            Harrow began to chant in Coptic, and (Y/N) shivered as the words translated and Ammit’s power filtered into the staff.

            “You must act!” said Ma’at.

            How? (Y/N) wanted to scream. They’d fought twice, and only once against Harrow’s power. How were they supposed to understand how to act in a situation they had barely encountered?

            “What are you waiting for?” snapped Khonshu.

            Inside the pyramid, purple light and smoke swirled around the sarcophagus. The coffin collapsed into dust, and the light dispersed. Mogart stared in shock.

            “That’s just a taste of the godly power I offer,” said Harrow, walking away calmly.

            Mogart turned eagerly towards Layla, Marc, and (Y/N). With a single order, he could kill them and get some of the power Harrow held.

            Mogart frowned. “Where is he?”

            Marc was gone. The guards looked around in confusion, but Layla and (Y/N) knew where to look. They raised their gazes to another glass pyramid. In his suit, Marc stood and looked down on the men threatening two people Marc wanted to protect.

            He raised his arms, flicked his wrists, and the battle began. Two moon-shaped knives spun through the air and landed in the arms of the men attempting to drag Layla and (Y/N) away. Layla grabbed one of the guns from the ground and slammed into another guard while Marc lunged at several shooting at him.

            Come on, come on!

            (Y/N)’s suit appeared, wrapping around them as they dodged the men grabbing for them. The blue cloth strips wrapped around their hands, (Y/N) reared back, and they punched with heightened strength. The guard they hit went flying and hit another on a horse (fortunately, the horse wasn’t hurt).

            At the shots, the people at the carnival screamed and ran, but the men still on horseback grabbed their lances to fight for their employer. Several guards fell to Layla’s shooting, and (Y/N) threw one into the way of others, giving Marc a moment to finish them.

            Bullets whizzed by their shoulders, and (Y/N) flinched. The men guarding the carnival were approaching through the dirt track, shooting all the while. Marc grabbed Layla and pulled her under his cloak. The bullets hit the cloth but didn’t go through. Seeing (Y/N), Marc pulled them into the protective cape as well.

            Logically, it was likely (Y/N) had similar protection from injury, but Marc couldn’t risk that, and he refused to let go of them or Layla as the firing continued.

            “Buy me some time,” said Layla, looking at Marc. “And keep an eye on (Y/N).”

            “I can do that,” said Marc.

            “I can help,” said (Y/N) forcefully. They had been paralyzed by Ma’at’s demand, but they saw Marc fighting, and they knew they had to be as strong. So they would be.

            Marc turned, flipped, and flicked his cloak. The bullets sailed through the air and hit their former shooters, felling the guards. (Y/N) felt their suit for weapons. Last time, they’d been running on adrenaline and barely gotten to figure out what they could do with the suit. Now, they found several daggers shaped like ostrich feathers. The gods definitely liked their themes.

            (Y/N) trusted their instincts, reared back, and threw their daggers. They reformed into their holsters after, but the previous hit the opponents (Y/N) was up against. Not waiting to rest on their laurels, (Y/N) kept moving and striking the guards.

            Behind them, Marc ran into the horse track and engaged in hand-to-hand combat against the men. Several quickly fell to him, his stamina and strength too much to them. (Y/N) turned towards the pyramids again. Eyes widening, they saw Layla fighting, and struggling, against Bek.

            “Layla!” cried (Y/N), running to her.

            They grabbed Bek and threw him back. His body went through the glass and hit the ground. Bek groaned and stood up, but at that point, Layla was grabbing what she was trying steal and running at him. She pulled her necklace off, took the sharp ends, and stabbed through Bek’s chest. He gasped and fell back again.

            “Go, go!” said Layla, rushing out with (Y/N).

            They ran to the track where Marc was stabbed through with several lances (Steven had come back out and gotten overwhelmed). Riding on a horse, another man was approaching to attack. Layla grabbed a gun from the ground and fired. The guard fell.

            Steering his own horse towards them, Mogart galloped towards them. He swung his lance at Layla, and (Y/N) pushed her out of the way. The pole hit them, and they were knocked down to the ground.

            Marc’s mask disappeared, and he stared in worry as Mogart gabbed a spear, complete with a rounded tip, and turned back towards Layla and (Y/N). Marc’s mask reformed, and Marc snapped the impaled spears. Angry, he pulled out the spears and drove them into his attackers. Within moments, the guards were dead in the dirt, and Marc turned to face Mogart on his horse. The two stared each other down. Layla and (Y/N) were directly in between them, though Layla was trying to pull (Y/N) to the side.

            Mogart kicked the side of his horse. Marc ran forward. Lowering his spear, Mogart charged, but Marc was there first. He grabbed Layla and (Y/N). Pulling them to the side, he whirled and threw a dagger back at Mogart. It hit his back, and he fell from his horse.

            Leaving the body, Marc knelt and helped Layla guide (Y/N) to their feet. “You alright?”

            (Y/N) nodded and winced. “Just a bruise. I’m still getting used to this.”

            Layla smiled and squeezed their shoulder. “You’re doing fine.”

            At the praise, (Y/N) ducked their head in embarrassment. Clearing their throat, they tried to make eye-contact but quickly opted to just speak. “Um, did you grab what you needed?”

            Layla nodded. “I grabbed what Marc was messing with.”

            “Good,” said Marc. “Now we just need a car.”

            “Come on,” said Layla, leading the way.

            Marc and (Y/N)’s suits melted away and they followed.

l

            Cairo zipped by as Layla drove them out of the city and the light pollution so they could properly look at the star map Steven had recognized in Senfu’s sarcophagus.

            After he bandaged himself, Marc groaned as he looked at the holes in his jacket. “Ay. I really liked that jacket. Oh, well.” He tossed it to the back beside (Y/N).

            “What was Harrow talking about?” said Layla, as straightforward as ever.

            Marc froze and looked at her. Evasively, he averted his eyes. “What do you mean?”

            “He said I had a right to know,” said Layla.

            “I have no idea,” said Marc as he turned and grabbed a fresh shirt from Mogart’s stash in the back. He made eye-contact with (Y/N) and looked away. He knew (Y/N) had felt his lie.

            “I never told anyone why I really moved,” said Layla. She gripped the steering wheel tighter. “But he knew. He just saw right through me.”

            “He does that,” murmured (Y/N), pulling on a hoodie they’d found. Stubbornly, desperately, they pushed back thoughts on Harrow’s words to them.

            “He just messes with everyone,” said Marc, looking between Layla and (Y/N). “Don’t let him do that. Just don’t. He’s got this idea that he can see the true nature of people or some baloney like that. If that were true, I don’t think he’d have a bunch of homicidal maniacs as his disciples, would he?”

            “So it’s not true? What he said about you and—”

            “No, it’s not true,” said Marc.

            Lie. (Y/N) kept their mouth tightly shut.

            “He’s just trying to divide us. Don’t let him get in your head,” said Marc.

            Layla took a deep breath and let out a frustrated sigh. Trying not to snap at Marc for keeping so many secrets, she looked in the rearview mirror at (Y/N).

            “Are you alright, (Y/N)?” she asked.

            (Y/N) pursed their lips as they decided how to respond. “I’m recovering from the fight.”

            Layla narrowed her eyes. “I meant with Harrow.” She wasn’t letting (Y/N) avoid the issue.

            “…I don’t want to talk about it,” said (Y/N), looking firmly out the window.

            Layla and Marc exchanged a worried look.

l

            “Try this one,” said Marc, handing another scrap of cloth to Layla and (Y/N), but the torn map wasn’t coming back together.

            “Um, no, anything else?” said Layla.

            “It’s all just fragments,” said (Y/N) ruefully, shaking their head.

            Marc hit the hood of the jeep in frustration. Groaning, he hung his head. “This is gonna take forever.”

            Layla looked at him evenly. “Marc, we need Steven.”

            Marc put his head in his hands. Weariness was written into every line of his face.

            “He understands all of this. I really think it’s worth giving him a shot,” said Layla.

            “I summon the gods; you summon the worm,” scoffed Khonshu. “He won’t return the body.”

            “Marc,” said (Y/N), and he looked at them. “I know it’s a lot to ask.”

            “Marc, we don’t have time,” said Layla, urging him.

            Marc pulled the side mirror from the jeep, gathered up the map scraps, and walked a few paces away to talk with Steven. Concerned, (Y/N) watched him go.

            Layla groaned. “He can’t seriously be fighting again with Steven.”

            “Give him a moment,” said (Y/N), believing in Marc and Steven. They were different but both good men. (Y/N) trusted them.

            Sure enough, the man knelt and began putting parts of the cloth together. (Y/N) smiled. Steven was there.

            Surprised and still unused to the situation, Layla approached, and (Y/N) followed.

            “Don’t need that,” murmured Steven, the British accent having returned with him. “I don’t need that.”

            Layla and (Y/N) sat down next to him.

            “Steven?” said Layla, unsure of herself.

            He looked up. He paused. He smiled. “Egyptians invented modern navigation,” he said excitedly. “There’s not a lot of landmarks in the desert.” Steven crouched in the sand and began working again. “So they came up with a way to get about using the sun and the stars. It’s bloody genius, isn’t it?”

            “Yeah,” said (Y/N), and Layla nodded, gazing at him softly.

            “Et voila.” Steven held up an, ironically, star-shaped map, taped together.

            “Wow,” said Layla, looking at it.

            “It’s French,” said Steven.

            “I know,” laughed Layla. She and Steven stared at each other, and (Y/N) looked between them in confusion. Clearing her throat, Layla focused. “So, what do we do with it?”

            “Well, I’m not sure, but if…” Steven stood and trailed off as he realized there were pinpricks through the map. “Hang on a minute. You see that? You see those little pinpricks there?”

            “That’s a constellation,” said (Y/N).

            “We should be able to triangulate the stars into coordinates, right?” said Layla. She held up a piece of equipment from the jeep.

            “It’s not that simple,” said (Y/N), shaking their head. “Senfu made the map two thousand years ago. The stars drift over time, not a lot, but enough to change the sky we see from the map.”

            Steven nodded. “It could mean the difference between us searching miles away from where we’re supposed to be looking. So unless we know exactly what the sky looked like on that date…we’re buggered.”

            “I remember the night,” said Khonshu.

            (Y/N) and Steven looked up. He stood on the sand dunes, and Ma’at was beside him.

            “As do I,” she said. “Khonshu is the guardian of the night. I lend balance to the cosmos, the stars. We have lived a thousand years and know each day and night by heart.”

            “Is it Khonshu and Ma’at?” said Layla as the two stared at the dunes.

            (Y/N) nodded, and they and Steven walked up towards the gods. Layla followed, brow furrowed since she couldn’t hear the gods speaking.

            Steven cleared his throat. “Khonshu.”

            “We can turn back the night sky,” said Khonshu.

            “How?” said (Y/N).

            “It will come at a cost,” said Ma’at.

            (Y/N) looked at Steven. “She said it will come at a cost.”

            “And we cannot do it alone,” said Khonshu.

            (Y/N) and Steven stood, looking out over the desert below them, and the gods stood behind them. A soft wind blew the sand around the group.

            “Steven, when the gods imprison me, tell Marc to free me,” said Khonshu.

            “Imprison?” asked (Y/N).

            “We will be interfering with the mortal world in the way they declared we would be punished for,” said Ma’at. She looked down at (Y/N). “You must continue this journey on your own. Free me, but Ammit must be handled first.”

            Khonshu and Ma’at raised their hands. (Y/N) and Steven’s suits wrapped around them.

            “Do as we do,” said Khonshu.

            (Y/N) and Steven copied the deities’ movements. They waved their hands, all four in sync, and the sky lit up with stars. They began to spin, running backwards in time, through decades and centuries of nights.

            It was beautiful, and (Y/N)’s eyes widened in awe.

            “Whoa. This is mental,” exclaimed Steven, just as awestruck.

            “This is the night,” said Khonshu.

            “Precisely as we knew it,” said Ma’at.

            The sky steadied, and Steven and (Y/N) strained with the gods to keep the past in place.

            “This is surprisingly painful,” groaned Steven.

            “Keep holding,” said (Y/N), their muscles straining.

            Layla held up the screen. “It’s working!” The calculations began for the coordinates.

            A pain speared through (Y/N), and they gasped. Behind them, Khonshu and Ma’at fell to their knees.

            “I can feel my energy leaving me,” gasped Steven.

            It fell away from (Y/N), too, and as much as they tried to hold on, the familiar power they’d grown up with—Ma’at’s—was slipping from them. Steven and (Y/N)’s suits began to disappear as the gods behind them began to dissolve into sand. The other gods had seen what they’d done and given their punishment—imprisonment in stone.

            “Layla…we can’t…hold on,” said (Y/N), panting with effort.

            “Coordinates found,” said the computer’s voice. “29 degrees north, 25 degrees.”

            “I got it!” said Layla.

            Letting go in relief, Steven gasped and fell to his knees. Releasing their strength, (Y/N) stumbled back and tried to remain on their feet. They turned and faced Ma’at and Khonshu.

            “Ma’at,” croaked (Y/N) tiredly.

            Ma’at just gazed at the teenager sadly, and when the wind swept over the dune again, she was carried away in the sand. (Y/N) was left alone, bare of any of the power—purpose—they’d had since they were ten.

            The edges of their vision darkened. (Y/N)’s chest constricted in panic. They collapsed into the sand.

l

            “You were right about Khonshu and Ma’at,” said Selim, Osiris’s Avatar. He escorted Harrow through the halls of the Great Pyramid of Giza to where they kept the statues of imprisoned deities. “And in the end, they left us no choice.”

            The two statues came into sight, a pair of carved sandstone sculptures less than a foot in height. The once mighty deities were reduced to such a small encasing, unable to escape.

            “Now, they’re tethered to this place like many before them,” said Selim.

            “Can they hear us?” said Harrow, gazing at the statues.

            “We think so, yes,” said Selim.

            Harrow nodded and stepped towards the statues. Selim graciously stepped away, allowing Harrow a private moment with the imprisoned remains of the god he was once an Avatar for.

            “I enjoyed dealing out pain on your behalf,” said Harrow, almost softly. “That is the greatest sin I carry. I am grateful. Had you not broken me so completely, I might have known the value of healing. I’m going to do what you could not do. I want you to remember one thing. Your torment forged me. I owe my victory to you.” He turned to walk away.

            Harrow paused in front of Ma’at statue. He looked down at it and smiled. “And Ma’at, I will make sure all of the knowledge you imparted to young (Y/N) goes to good use. It too will serve my victory well.”

Taglist:

@jaytheaceenby

@severussimp

@dmitrytherat

@slytherinroyalty16

@grippleback-galaxy

@alexpangender

@thewittyfanficreader

@aew-kun-age-regression

@oscarissac2099

@amberforest08

@kyalov

@yyourmotherr

@im-making-an-effort

@the-toskaverse

@wra-1-th

[woneuntonzz]

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ welcome to...

𝚗𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚋𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍 .☘︎ ݁˖

(!!) waitlisted — on progress — published

ᯓ★ 𝙧𝙞𝙞𝙯𝙚

shotaro

𐙚 coming soon!

eunseok

𐙚 lover's rock » eunseok x reader ; songfic inspired by TV Girl's Lover's Rock 🎶 - she might wanna kiss before the end of this song...

𐙚 stargazing (1-2) » academic rivals eunseok x reader ; songfic inspired by The Neighbourhood's Stargazing 🎶 - take me for a ride...

sungchan

𐙚 reflections » ex!sungchan x reader ; songfic inspired by The Neighbourhood's Reflections 🎶 - maybe it's a blessing in disguise, i see my reflection in your eyes...

𐙚 rent is due! » landlord!sungchan x (afab)tenant!reader | life is not a party, so maybe pay your rent on time...

wonbin

𐙚 tek it » band leader!wonbin x song writer!reader ; songfic inspired by Cafuné's Tek It 🎶 - i watch the moon, let it run my mood...

seunghan

𐙚 margins » player!seunghan x afab!reader | you had no idea why seunghan seemed to be so indifferent towards you, especially when he had fooled around with half the girls in your circle.

𐙚 torn and folded » bully!seunghan x bl reader, amab!reader | you loved your free time in manga reading websites, not him though, he thinks you need your senses sorted out for you, and so he would...

sohee

𐙚 isn't it cliche? (1 - 2) » performing arts club singer!sohee x performing arts club president!reader(xen) | he who admired from afar and he who'd keep you close to his heart, maybe, there could be a sweeter story than this...

𐙚 mystery » sohee x reader ; songfic inspired by Matt Maltese's Mystery 🎶 - i would pick you ten out of nine times...

anton

𐙚 what's it like to love? (1-5) » student athlete!anton x studious class officer!reader | you swore to yourself, to you friends and even to your parents “I'm not one to easily fall.” and you thought you were that tough, not until him of course...

𐙚 for the first time » childhood lovers anton x reader ; songfic inspired by Mac DeMarco's For The First Time 🎶 - it's just like seeing her for the first time again...

𐙚 see you again » anton x reader ; songfic inspired by Tyler, The Creator & Kali Uchis' See You Again 🎶 - can you make it last forever?

ot7 .ᐟ

𐙚 when she wanna talk saxy » riize as author's favorite songs

𐙚 happy birth-late » riize forgets their s/o's birthday

𐙚 put a ring on it » calling boyfriend!riize your husband

ᯓother

𐙚 snap! » like-a-big-brother!sungchan x afab!reader x partner in crime!wonbin | wherein wonbin chose you to be his ride or die and sungchan, well he just loved sharing his twix with you.

𐙚 greatest comedian » popularguy!eunseok x afab!reader x bestfriend!shotaro | god must be the greatest comedian i know...

[01zfan]

three’s a crowd

husband!shotaro x wonbin x wife!reader | 6.9k words

the anon who requested wontaro threesome im sorry if you were expecting something normal the parasite in my brain made me go rogue.

contains: cuckolding, hooking up with strangers from the bar, and voyeurism

when shotaro initially told you about his fantasy you thought it was a joke. it was less than a week ago, laying on the very same bed you and wonbin sat now. too many times shotaro had avoided your question, and you thought that night would be no different. you were smiling, eyes bright with a simple smile when you asked shotaro to describe a sexual fantasy of his. your husband was red in the face when you were finally able to coax an answer out of him. he was rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your gaze when he said the word, meek and quiet as he shrugged his shoulders.

“cuckolding?” you tried to not sound too surprised, afraid that a strong reaction would cause shotaro to become closed off. “you’re into that?” you asked.

shotaro shrugged his shoulders a second time, the red that started from his neck reached the tip of his ears. he shook his head slightly, telling you that he had no explanation. something about being able to see everything happening and you knowing had shotaro shaking his head again as he went deeper underneath the covers. seeing shotaro so shy made you feel confident enough to dig deeper, to pry more. you didn’t hide your amusement seeing shotaro’s pupils shake when you started asking about details of his fantasy.

“would you join in?”

“wouldn’t you get jealous?”

“would you even be able to handle it?”

“would it be with someone we know?”

shotaro gulped and shrugged his shoulders at each question. the timid head shakes were anything but convincing, you knew shotaro better than that. it was rare that he didn’t have a plan or a vision of something, especially if it was something he’s thought of for awhile.

regardless, you let him off easy. you went back to your phone while shotaro pretended to read his book, trying to silently gauge how you felt about his deepest darkest fantasy. shotaro let the vanilla veil of his sexual desires fall to your feet. he felt exposed even though he was underneath the blankets and he felt naked despite being fully clothed. 

in the silence, you let yourself think about the image of shotaro watching someone fuck you. you wonder if he’d get that dark tint in his eye, if he’d sit still and watch or get antsy and come over to you. you wonder if shotaro would pull down his pants and jerk off to the sight, if he’d coo at you in that same sweet voice or be mean when there was someone else around. the more you thought about it the more intrigued you were—the scandal of it all made thrill churn in your stomach. 

but who would it be? your mind ran through the list of people in shotaro’s life, if any of them were viable options. shotaro told you about sungchan’s terrible habit of getting attached, and you knew eunseok would never agree to it. your mind went to anton and sohee briefly, but sohee’s personality was too defiant and anton would be too nervous. before you knew it the potential list for your third was empty, nothing seemed to work logically. you knew your husband was more possessive than he cared to admit. inviting one of his friends could potentially cause their friendship to fall apart. 

your mind in its haste and fog thought about you and shotaro going out and finding someone. it was a simple solution, if no one in shotaro’s life could do it you two would come together to find the one. the perfect suitor found in the crowd at a bar—someone who would be you and shotaro’s little secret and treat for the night.

you shuffled on the bed, turning to your side to turn off the lamp. you felt your own sexual fantasies come to light as you looked up at shotaro with a smile on your face. he looked down at you back against the headboard, fingers on the same page of his book.

“it would have to be someone we don’t know, i think.” you said simply.

shotaro’s eyes went wide, the embarrassment he was able to get under control was returning with a vengeance.

“maybe someone at that bar downtown. we could find someone there, don’t you think?” you ask.

shotaro nods, the fact that you are humoring his sick and dirty fantasy has him gripping the corners of his book. he clears his throat, pushing up his glasses before going back to the pages.

“on thursdays the crowd is pretty lively.” he says casually before turning the page.

you hide your smile underneath the covers, pulling them up to your nose while you nod at your husband. it’s too obvious that he has the situation planned out in his head down to the minute, but he wants you to come to your own conclusion about it. even in the midst of his own sexual desires shotaro wants to make sure you plan the bulk of it and you are in charge. 

so you took the figurative reigns shotaro handed to you and planned out the night up to getting back to the house. that’s why you and shotaro were inside an irish bar past your bedtime scanning the thursday crowd. you thought about other people’s view of you and shotaro, a couple standing silently at the table with drinks in hand constantly scanning the crowd. the pub was lively for a thursday, people constantly passed into your line of sight while you canvased the area.

you were silent while shotaro pointed at men he think would be practical options. shotaro must’ve asked what about him nearly twenty times, each time you shook your head no. anyone who came into your line of sight would do something that turned you off. you needed someone who would match or compliment the dynamic of you and your husband in bed—not someone who was a sloppy drunk or who yelled obnoxiously when the team on the television scored a goal. 

when shotaro flicked his head towards a man coming out of the bathroom, you found him immediately. you don’t know how you missed him coming in, but once you say him you couldn’t look away. he navigated through the crowd of people seamlessly, nimble on his feet as he made his way to the bar. you don’t think the man with inky black locks said a single word to anybody, not an excuse me or behind you, he simply just squeezed between people where his small frame could fit. he was beautiful, with his medium length hair and eyes the size of the moon. he looked gentle—he looked like a good listener.

“him?” shotaro turned to talk to speak directly in your ear. 

you nodded and turned to shotaro, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the music.

“he looks like he’d be alot of fun.” you say.

shotaro looks at the man across the bar, he looks him up and down before turning to you again. you two watch the man meander around the small space, going to the bar to order a drink before walking around and circling back to the bartender. he looks like he came with a big group of people, but he ended up splitting off just to be by himself. he casts looks at the group in a separate room where the noise was overwhelming even being halfway across the pub. when their voices boom you see the man visibly cringe before going back to face the bartender. his elbows rest on the top of the wood as he stands off to the side, waiting for his drink. you look at shotaro and your husband looks back at you. 

the smirk on your lips is sinister as you talk to shotaro directly.

“he looks lost.” you lean in closer, until your lips are almost touching the shell of shotaro’s ear. “maybe you should go help him.” you say.

shotaro nods quickly, downing the rest of his drink before shaking his hands. he gives you one last look, an excited smile on his lips as you nod to him encouragingly. he’s slow rounding the small curve of your table but he approaches the man calmly. shotaro says excuse me as he walks through the tightly packed crowd. 

the man at the bar is still unaware as shotaro approaches him. with his head in his hands and the hair cascading down his face he almost looks like a damsel in distress, waiting for someone to save him from another boring night at the bar. maybe it’s the truth, maybe it’s a lie you tell yourself to try and comprehend what’s happening right in front of you. whatever you tell yourself it works, because you nod to shotaro again when he looks back at you one final time.

shotaro taps the mans shoulder first. the man looks at him quickly, head still resting on top of his hands as he does a double take of shotaro. your glass is held securely in your hand as you watch closely, wishing you could read lips. all you can see is shotaro lean in to talk in the mans ear, and the man leans into shotaro so he can hear him clearly. you almost start shaking when the man’s eyes flicker through the crowd until he finds you. his gaze is hard, it causes you to straighten your posture and hold your glass a little tighter. his eyes stay on you while shotaro continues to talk into his ear. you wish you knew what your husband was saying, maybe you’d have an explanation as to why the man started smirking while looking at you.

when shotaro pulled away the man had the same smirk, looking your husband up and down. he still had his head resting on top of his hands, smiling at the bartender as he hands him his drink. the man takes his hands off the table to reach for his wallet but shotaro is faster, putting down cash on the bar. you recognize his motions for closing the tab, and the man at the bar’s smirk only grows. maybe you two were biting off more than you could chew. maybe shotaro was about to get his drink thrown in his face and called a pervert. millions of things that could’ve gone wrong rushed through your head before you saw the man nod. you could feel shotaro’s smile from your spot across the bar, how he shook the man’s head before leaning in one last time. shotaro left the man at the bar and stayed walking back towards you with a smile on his face.

when shotaro came back to you he immediately went to your ear, speaking quickly.

“his name is wonbin. he said yes. i told him i’ll call a cab for him out to our place and then get him a cab home.” he says.

now it’s your turn to look at wonbin. he still stands at the end of the bar, this time he moves like he knows people are watching him. he’s casual about it, the way he looks at the time and carefully sips on his drink. 

“we should go home now.” shotaro grabs your coat from the back of the chair and puts it on your shoulders. “to prepare for our guest.” he says.

you finish your drink in a few gulps, baring your teeth at how the alcohol goes down. you nod to your husband and spare one more look at wonbin, smiling and waving when you catch his eye. 

shotaro nearly speeds home, running through the house putting pictures of family face down. he’s quickly moving while you’re relaxed, trying to not let the nerves overtake you. you kick off your heels and hang your coat on the rack beside the door. while shotaro tidies up the already clean house, you count your breaths while walking to the bedroom.

“just wait in there for me, pretty.” shotaro says while clearing pieces of mail from the kitchen island. “he’ll be here soon.” he says.

you hum in acknowledgement before walking past the doorframe into the bedroom. you close the door behind you, waiting until you hear the satisfying click of it shutting. you debate on taking off your dress and laying on the bed to show your new set of lingerie shotaro bought just for this occasion. but you sit on the edge of the bed while your red dress rides up your thighs, waiting for your husband and your treat to come to you.

the longer you sit the more antsy you feel. before you know it your legs become restless, bouncing off the ground causing your dress to ride up more. the feeling of waiting is daunting, the thought of fucking a stranger causes you to feel unsteady. but you think about wonbin who looked at you from across the bar, and the chair that sits in the corner of your bedroom that wasn’t there before. shotaro’s lamp was moved to the dresser beside the chair, causing the lighting in your room to change. you could see the shadow of your body casted on the wall in front of you. you turned around—your lamp was still on behind you. 

your eyes stopped wandering around the room when you heard the front door open. through your closed door it was hard to make out what was said, only the low murmur of the two mens voices could be heard. you imagined shotaro walking through the house while wonbin followed, trying to figure out what type of people he agreed to see tonight. your mind started moving miles every minute trying to figure out how to present yourself. the sound of their footsteps got closer to the bedroom door, you found yourself leaning back on your arms before going back to sitting upright. you grabbed the wooden frame of the bed and slouched, then gripped the sheets while lifting a leg up. nothing felt natural, you just let your feet dangle over the edge when you heard a knock at the door.

“can we come in?” you heard shotaro’s gentle voice on the other side.

“yeah.” you swallowed to try and mend your dry voice. “yeah, come in.” you said sweetly.

shotaro opened the door slowly, peaking through first to smile at you. he let the door drift open slowly, and your eyes went from your husband to look at wonbin who still stood in the doorframe. you couldn’t stop your eyes from widening, this was real and it was happening right now. shotaro felt it instantly, coming to stand in front of you to rub your chin.

“just relax.” shotaro’s other hand rubbed your tense shoulders down. “he is going to take good care of you.” he assured.

you nodded your head, still looking at wonbin who stood in the doorway. he seemed to be nervous too, he didn’t come fully in until shotaro motioned to the spot in bed next to you. wonbin crossed the threshold in a few steps approaching the edge of the bed where you sat. 

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you felt the bed dip beside you. you two waited silently, too nervous to move an inch.

“no marking.” shotaro said.

both you and wonbin looked up to shotaro. he was standing between the two of you, the light from your bedside lamp casted his shadow on the wall behind him. shotaro was no longer shy or whispering to you like he didn’t when he first mentioned his fantasy. he was upfront, blunt, and serious as he addressed you and wonbin. he looked to each of you after stating each rule, waiting for your nods of acknowledgment.

“no tongue kissing. you are going to wear a condom and no cumming inside.” shotaro added.

shotaro maintaining eye contact even when you both bashfully tried to turn away. shotaro put a gentle hand under both of your chins, squeezing your necks affectionately before pulling away. wonbin looked to you to see how he should react. when he saw you nod slowly he did too, easing further onto the bed. 

shotaro looked to both of you one last time. the big smile on his face was warm, like he was so proud of the you two. both of you turned your heads to follow shotaro as he made his way to the dark corner of the room. he was almost unseeable from his little spot until he turned on the lamp beside him. the artificial light only made the top half of shotaro visible, anything below his torso was left to your imagination. your mind filled in the gaps, you imagine shotaro sinking into the chair as he rested his arm on the sides of the chair. 

“if it’s too much or you want to stop, just say the word and it’ll be done.” shotaro said from his seat.

after that, shotaro said nothing else. it was completely silent in the room as both you and wonbin fidgeted on top of the bed. your restless leg started bouncing again and you saw wonbin pick at his nail beds. you were in over your head you thought. neither you or the man sitting next to you made a move, just sitting on the bed letting the awkward atmosphere settle over you both.

“wonbin, why don’t you help with her dress.” shotaro looked amused as he watched you both squirm from the tension. he did an unzipping motion calmly when wonbin looked to him. “there’s a zipper in the back, right baby?” shotaro asked.

you nodded, turning your body until your back was facing wonbin and your front was pointed towards shotaro. he was looking at you intensely, leaning back into his chair satisfied when he saw wonbin’s timid hands move towards your zipper. 

he was slow, the sound of the metal dragging down filled the space between you both. you were still nervous, your nails digging into the flesh of your knee. you looked down as the zipper got lower, focusing on the view of shotaro’s legs. wonbin shuffled a little closer to your body, his breath fanning the newly exposed skin of your neck and back as he spoke.

“is this okay?” wonbin asked. 

you looked up to shotaro almost expecting him to answer for you. he only looked at you expectantly, waiting for you.

“yes. it’s okay.” you said.

wonbin helped you push your dress off your shoulders, you went the rest of the way to take it off your top half. your new lacy bra was exposed, and you pulled the dress down further until it was bunched at your hips. wonbin ran his fingers over the strap, carefully slipping his fingers underneath to press into your skin. you shivered from wonbin’s touch, not used to feeling anyone’s hands that weren’t shotaro’s. wonbin’s hand were bigger than shotaro’s a little rougher even though he only gave you touches light as a feather.  wonbin worked his way up your shoulders then down your arms, squeezing you occasionally. the ministrations did calm you down, you felt more relaxed by the time wonbin’s hands clasped over yours.

“wonbinnie wants you to look at him.” shotaro said sweetly.

you slowly turned in your place to look at wonbin, facing him fully. his eyes drifted down to your chest immediately, the hands that were over yours traced up the sides of your body. he looked to you for approval, and when you nodded wonbin moved his hands to cup your chest. he kneaded your skin over the fabric of your bra, pressing carefully as you let out tiny sighs of approval. wonbin’s look of wonder transformed into a confident stare, he leaned in close and pressed a kiss over your collarbone.

“whose idea was it?” wonbin asked when he pulled away from your chest. 

one of your hands went to wonbin’s shoulder when he leaned down to press another kiss. it was wet, the air cooled your skin when he pulled away. the sound of shotaro moving in his chair behind you reminded you of the question he asked.

“his.” you breathed.

“who picked me?” wonbin asked. he blew cold air on another sloppy kiss.

“me.” you answered.

you felt wonbin’s smile against your skin. with your turned body obstructing shotaro’s view of wonbin he took his chances, slightly sinking his teeth into the skin of your chest. you gasped and fisted the fabric of wonbin’s shirt in your hands. 

“no marking.” shotaro said sternly from his seat.

the orders made you straighten your arched back, feeling like you were the one that got in trouble. wonbin on the other hand showed no remorse, only muttering a quick sorry over your shoulder.

his hands wrapped around to your back to undo the clasp of your bra. you were still as wonbin splayed his hands across your back, bringing you closer to him. you planted your foot on the ground to push yourself into him, hands on the cups of your bra preparing to grab it.

“she likes when you ask nicely for things.” shotaro said sweetly.

when wonbin unclasped your bra you pressed your chest into his, trying to work yourself up to fully taking it off. you thought about the man behind you, how he’s the only one who has seen you naked in god knows how long. you were too bashful to look behind you to see what shotaro was doing now, you only focused on wonbin in front of you. his hands went to your shoulder and squeezed you gently before whispering into your hair.

“can i see?” he pushed your shoulders back gently until your back rested on the bed. “please?” he asked.

you obliged, taking your loose bra from your chest. wonbin helped, pulling your straps off your outstretched arms and throwing it over the bed towards shotaro. 

he wasted no time squeezing and teasing your chest, reveling in the way you spilled out between his fingers. wonbin was the same as shotaro, blowing cold air on your nipples to see them harden, and he rolled them between his fingers to hear your little mewls. your eyes were closed from the sensation when you started pulling at the fabric of his shirt.

“take your shirt off.” you said breathlessly.

wonbin pulled away from your body to pull his shirt over his head. he threw his shirt towards shotaro too before looking at your husband. you did the same, looking at shotaro in his chair. he wasn’t as relaxed as he was before, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. you almost thought shotaro was a few seconds from calling it off then and there, the pensive look on his face hidden behind his hands. even with wonbin hovering back over your body, you only looked to shotaro. 

his gaze went from wonbin to you, and shotaro went back to leaning against the chair. his hands fell away to reveal his part lips, and his legs that spread further revealed the tent in his dress pants. as your own lips parted wonbin got closer to you, and his lips began pressing sloppy kisses to the crook of your neck. everything was already too much, the view of shotaro beside you and the feeling of wonbin above you. your hands went to wonbin’s back to press flat hands against his shoulder blades. wonbin had to prop himself up on his arm, leaning to the side to see your whole face. you were already becoming flushed, breathing labored from absolutely nothing happening. wonbin was amused, a smirk across his face as he looked to you and then shotaro.

“you guys are sick.” wonbin laughed to himself and you impulsively arched your back at his words. he laughed again, his hand was confident as he traced your jawline. his touch was still light he travelled down, squeezing at your neck gently the same way shotaro did earlier. wonbin smiled at the breath that caught in your throat before he lifted his body away from you completely.

when wonbin stood in front of you off of the bed you propped yourself up on your elbows. your chest heaved, and you nervously flexed your hands to try and feel some control. he watched, hands still traveling down your body. wonbin looked to shotaro in his chair as he pressed his hands deep into your stomach. it pulled a groan from you, something light and airy as you tried maintaining some dignity. wonbin looked back to you when his hands settled on your hips, flashing you a quick smile before he pulled you quickly to the edge of the bed.

the pull caught you off guard, temporarily turning you into wonbin’s ragdoll. before you could comprehend his strength you felt his fingers press into your clothed clit. instantly your knees closed in on eachother, causing wonbin to put a hand on a knee to pry them apart. 

he continued pressing deeper into your slit, not letting up until you squirmed and repeatedly tapped the mattress. wonbin looked to shotaro sitting in his chair then back to you.

“she likes being fingered but she likes being fucked from behind the most.” wonbin looked to you with wide eyes as shotaro continued. “isn’t that right baby?” shotaro asked.

you nodded your head at shotaro, then turned too look up at wonbin.

“i like it alot.” you whined

wonbin nodded his head, smirking as both of his hands wrapped around the waistband of your matching panties. he pulled them up to your bent knees then back down, looking at you the whole time. you felt shy underneath his stares, your cheeks getting warm when wonbin lifted your legs to pull your panties off your ankles. as if mocking shotaro he threw that towards him too, letting your clothes rest in a haphazardly made pile. 

any attempt to hide your core was futile when wonbin put his hand on your knee. he pushed it apart lightly, and you didn’t add any resistance. some sick part of you wanted the stranger in front of you to see it all, just like your husband intended. you could hear a pen drop when wonbin wrapped his large hand around your ankle. he was slow and deliberate, looking you straight in the eye while he pulled your leg upwards until your ankle rested on his shoulder. he still pushed your legs apart by a hand on your bent knee and you didn’t stop spreading until wonbin was satisfied. when he was, his fingers grazed down your knee, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

shotaro put his hand over the tent in his pants the same time wonbin put his fingers to your heat. you were warm and wet on his fingertips, the pads rubbing together to really feel you. wonbin’s dick hardened in the constraints of his pants as he thought about making a mess of you on the bed you and your husband made. when wonbin felt your hole clench around air he knew you felt it too. so wonbin wasted no time plunging two fingers into your heat and pressing a finger to your tongue when your lips parted.

“wonbin—oh my god.” you sighed after he pulled his fingers out just to push them right back in.

“so wet.” wonbin bent his fingers to emphasize the wet lewd sounds your cunt made. “you always this wet for other men?” he asked.

you shook your head bashfully, turning to shotaro when wonbin kissed the skin surrounding your ankle. he bent his body closer to yours, making your leg stretch as he came closer. he picked up the speed of  his fingers and your hand reached down to dig into his wrist. wonbin looked from your heat to your face, then back down as he added another finger. your arch off the bed put you on display for wonbin and he suddenly partially understood the man shrouded in shadows who watched. while wonbin understood something as pretty as you should be shared with others, he was far to jealous to let anyone else have you. maybe it was a character flaw—maybe self preservation. all wonbin knew was that he wanted to keep drawing those sounds out of you and feel you clench around his fingers. so he added his thumb to the mix of his digits, pressing into your clit that protruded towards him. instantly you were squirming off the bed to preen closer into wonbin’s hand, muttering pitifully about how something feels so good. wonbin needed more, so he leaned even closer to you as your straightened leg came with him.

 “what feels good?” wonbin said it lowly, breath fanning your skin. when you hesitated he pressed his finger roughly against your bundle of nerves. “c’mon tell me. tell me right in front of your husband.” he teased.

“your fingers. they’re so good.” wonbin bent his knuckles inside of you and your arch off the bed got bigger. “so so good.” you repeated.

at your answer, wonbin gave you a reward. he increased his pace, and you spread your legs so far you heard a bone pop. shotaro laughed from his corner, like he did everytime your creaky bones talked during sex.

“that means she’s close.” shotaro joked.

“oh yeah?” wonbin replied.

although shotaro’s tone was light, he was not wrong. you needed more and you were so close. you started swiveling your hips, pushing them deeper to try and get more. your moans become frequent, high pitched pants as wonbin continues to piston his fingers inside of you. your hand clenches the sheets, something to ground yourself as your feet flex.

just when before you feel it wash over you, wonbin pulls away. even shotaro straightens in his seat, as if he was the one being denied. instantly you pout, the pants turn into whines as wonbin takes his fingers out of your spasming heat.

“put them back in. please.” you beg.

any shame you had dissipated a long time ago. the worried shy girl is gone as you beg for the stranger in front of you to keep fucking you while your husband watches. the only reprieve you get is when wonbin uses the hands that were on you to go to his pants. 

“grab binnie a condom honey.” shotaro guides you sweetly as wonbin hastily works at his button and zipper.

instantly you move further onto the bed, turning on your stomach to crawl to shotaro’s bedside table. both of you are rushed—you open the drawer quickly to pull out a foil packet and wonbin almost stumbles as he pulls his legs from his pants. 

before you can even turn around to hand the packet to wonbin he clambers on the bed behind you hands pressing to your ass and you lower your upper half to the bed on instinct.

it’s another bout of silence as wonbin examines you from this view. he grabs handfuls of your flesh, moving your ass as you become malleable in his grasp. he lightly smacks your ass just to see the recoil, wishing he could slap harder to leave a mark. 

“can i fuck you from back here?” wonbin asks, half focused on how soft you are.

“yes.” you say immediately.

“wanna look at your husband while i do it?” he asks.

too embarrassed to say yes, you start moving you body until you face shotaro. wonbin stays slotted behind you as he puts on the condom, letting his dick slap against your ass when he’s done. he fixes your position, moving your body to the side slightly as he straddles one of your legs. 

he taps your ass slightly and when you look behind you the view of wonbin letting a glob of spit fall to his dick. you can hear the wet sound of him jerking off, and then you feel his dick slap your ass again. you let your ass wiggle in the air as wonbin gets closer to you. his hands part your ass and you feel spit land on the swell, you shiver from the feeling.

“you’re messy.” shotaro chides.

wonbin lines himself up at your entrance and you can feel the prod as the ball of yarn starts tangling again.

“you have no idea.” wonbin says.

you lean back further, and suck in a breath. the anticipation makes you dizzy, almost spotting your vision as you look at shotaro in his chair. neither of you break eye contact as wonbin slowly slides in, and when you open your mouth in ecstasy shotaro mirrors you. you try to keep the eye contact, but you fail when wonbin pulls all the way out to thrust harshly back in. your head falls to the mattress as you let out a muffled yell.

“not too much, right?”

you lift your head from the mattress to follow the voice talking to you. it lead you to shotaro as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. he leaned back in his chair legs spread with his head balancing on his fist. you only caught a glimpse of his other hand, how it palmed himself over his dress pants. before you could moan a response, you were interrupted.

“feels good.” the voice behind you huffed.

you can barely see anything else in the room except for shotaro. you stopped being able to see wonbin a long time ago, but you can feel him everywhere. the dip from his weight pressing into the bed. his leg straddling one of yours as he drove his hips forward. his two hands spreading your ass so he could go deeper. his breath fanning your arched sweaty back. you felt wonbin all around you as he thrusted into you again, knocking the words right out of your mind. you can only moan into the sheets you have a white knuckle grip on. wonbin grips your ass with the same force, his nails dig into the plush of your ass as he defies shotaro’s rules again. 

“no marking.” shotaro says from his seat.

wonbin huffs, you swear you can imagine him roll his eyes at the order. regardless, you feel the grip on your ass loosen as wonbin comes close to you until his chest presses into your back.

“your husband is bossy.” wonbin whispered in your ear.

“i can hear you.” shotaro says.

he’s still upbeat as he talks, the two men are playful as you feel like you’re coming to your wits end. the new angle wonbin takes causes him to rut into you quickly instead of the deep slow thrusts. your moans become high-pitched and frequent as he picks up the speed. you turn your head so your moans are no longer muffled by the sheets, you let them ring out as you helplessly look to shotaro. one of wonbin’s hands goes to your hair, slightly pulling at your scalp until your head is lifted off the mattress.

“can you hear her?” wonbin remarks.

“mhm.” shotaro is unaffected by wonbin’s teasing and you can see his hand press deeper into his lap. “you sound so pretty baby.” he compliments.

you can’t speak before wonbin draws his hips back all the way before driving back in. the thrust makes you go back to being face down in the sheets, and some of your upper arms slide over the edge of the bed. wonbin doesn’t stop, he does the same thing again as he plants his hand on the bed next to your head. wonbin slides perfectly inside of you, each time he bottoms out you nearly cry out. your hands dangling over the edge of the bed and you reach towards shotaro sitting down.

“taro.” you whine weakly.

he sits up in his chair, and you see the metal of his belt reflect the light as he opens up his pants. shotaro is still slow as he puts his hand underneath his layer of clothes, completely opposite from wonbin’s quick thrusts that leave your body trembling.

even if you whine for shotaro, wonbin is unaffected. maybe he doesn’t notice. he’s drowning in the feeling of you, his snide remarks turned into moans as he continued thrusting into you. he pulls away from your back to plant one of his feet on the mattress. one of his hands wraps around your waist, pulling you up with him. with his hand across your chest gripping your shoulder, wonbin forces your entire front to be exposed to shotaro. shotaro’s eyes travel up and down your body, settling on your face as his hand in his pants picks up the speed. he looks over your shoulder, staring at wonbin who placing wet kisses to your shoulder. if he can’t leave a mark he will at the very least be messy.

“you like that?” wonbin asks.

he talks to you but when you turn your head to kiss him, you see wonbin focused on shotaro. he continues staring at shotaro as you bring him in for a sloppy kiss, both of your minds on other things than kissing. wonbin looks to you only after he pulls away, keeping your head in place with a hand while he begins rutting his hips against yours. you look into wonbin’s blown out eyes, his black hair that sticks to his forehead. you kiss the bottom of his nose on instinct, just like you do with shotaro. you move your eyes to try and take a peak at your husband, following the distinct sound of his belt buckle clanking in the air. when your eyes flicker to shotaro wonbin clicks his tongue, bringing your focus back to him.

“look at me.” wonbin says it low, almost a grunt as his hips kiss your ass again. “let him watch.”

you can only nod your head, swallowing deeply as you continue looking into wonbin’s eyes. they’re dark and all consuming, you swear drool slinks past your lips as you continue staring into them.

“she’s close, wonbin.” shotaro’s tone becomes bothered as he continues jerking himself in his pants. 

in his fantasy he always watched, never giving in and never speaking a word. but he couldn’t stop himself when he became uncomfortably hard in his slacks, seeing you experience pleasure at the hands of someone else. he watched you become pliable for another man, going into positions without a second thought. he thought the palm of his hand would be enough, but as he continued watching it wasn’t enough. the only relief came from sticking his hand in his underwear, his precum already seeping through the thin material. shotaro’s tight hand on his tip forced him to bite his lip to hold back his moans.

“you close, baby?” wonbin looked down at your lips, smiling as you quickly nodded your head.

“so close.” you answered.

“go on.” wonbin kissed the wet apple of your cheek before looking at shotaro. “give your husband a show.”

wonbin lets your body fall back down to the mattress and wonbin wasted no time slotting himself between your legs. he instantly picked a brusingly fast pace, and when you reached back your hand wonbin grabbed it, pinning both of your hands to the small of your back. you looked up to shotaro, still watching you with such fascination. shotaro’s nod and the slow hand in his pants was the final pull on the ball of tension in your stomach that caused you to unravel.

you clenched around wonbin the same time shotaro withdrew his hands from his pants to dig his nails into the armrest of his chair. he watched you whine pitiful, and saw wonbin slow down as he emptied into his condom. shotaro didn’t cum but that wasn’t what he needed. the edging was torturous, depriving himself of finishing while you completely indulged in it brought shotaro something far greater than an orgasm. so he watched intently as your legs started sliding out from underneath you as wonbin tilted his head back to gain his bearings. the hand you had pointed towards shotaro even went limp as you let your head rest against the mattress. shotaro’s heavy pants matched yours, and wonbin fell back on his ass as he caught his breath too. shotaro saw it all, and before you two could come back to your senses he stood up. 

your head turned weakly towards shotaro as he came closer to you on the bed. he squatted down next to you, placing a kiss on your forehead before traveling down to your lips. shotaro brought you in for a passionate kiss, fingers underneath your chin as he tilted your head to the perfect angle. instantly his tongue slipped past your lips, as if he was trying to prove he tasted better than wonbin. you let out a heavy sigh when shotaro pulled away, a single thin string of spit connecting your lips. shotaro led your head gently back down to the mattress and you turned over. wonbin was still on his ass, legs spread as he watched you two. shotaro smirked, getting up from his crouching position to hand wonbin his shirt. wonbin took it with the same smirk, putting the white tee over his head slowly. 

“wasn’t that fun?”

[loveanton]

attention please

⟶ summary: your daughter chanmi hasn’t been herself recently, feeling left out and all alone she starts acting out for attention.

˗ˏˋpairing: husband!anton x f!reader ❀ genre: slice of life au ❀ word count: 4.7k ⟶ warnings: pure fluff!!

✎୭: this is apart of the dad!anton universe but just like the rest of them, can be read as a stand alone!

The late afternoon sun streams through the windows, casting a golden glow over the living room. Outside, snow blankets the ground sparkling in the faint light of a mid-January sky. The heater hums softly, keeping the house cozy as the kids play indoors.

Anton leans back on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, the other resting lightly on your shoulder. You sit beside him, one hand idly resting on your growing belly as you watch the kids scattered around the room. Chanwoo is on the floor near the coffee table, completely absorbed in his toy cars, his small hands pushing the bright vehicles over the floor accompanied by his quiet “vroom-vroom” sounds. Beside him, Yechan is seated at the little craft table, her tongue peeking out in focus as she carefully colors in a butterfly with her crayons.  

Chanmi, on the other hand, sits on the edge of the couch, tucked into the corner, her legs swinging idly. She’s quiet, too quiet, her dark eyes scanning the room. She doesn’t draw, doesn’t play, doesn’t speak—just watches. You glance at her, noting her hunched posture and the slight pout on her lips.  

Lately, this has become more frequent. Over the past few weeks, Chanmi has been acting out, much more than usual. Last week, she refused to share her crayons with Yechan, clinging to them with a stubbornness that ended in tears and a fight between the twins. Two days ago, she threw a tantrum in the middle of the store when Anton told her he wouldn’t buy her a new stuffed animal. It wasn’t like there was a shortage of plushies at home—her room was practically overflowing with them—but her insistence that she needed one left Anton flustered and you exhausted.  

Last night had been the most baffling incident of all. Anton had made bulgogi for dinner, adding extra carrots to Chanmi’s plate, knowing they were her favorite vegetable. But to everyone’s surprise, she pushed the plate away with a loud huff and declared, “Daddy messed up my food. I don’t like carrots!” Both of you had exchanged baffled looks. Chanmi loved carrots—she’d even sneak extras off Chanwoo’s plate when he wasn’t looking.

So far, you and Anton have tried to give her a pass, chalking up her behavior to new emotions or even hormones she might not understand yet but as the days pass, it’s becoming harder to ignore.  

Before you can say anything, Chanmi suddenly slides off the couch and marches toward where Chanwoo is playing. Her movements are quick and deliberate, her expression set. Without warning, she snatches the red car from his hands—a bright, shiny toy that Chanwoo adores.  

Chanwoo freezes, his wide eyes snapping up to his sister. “Das mine!” he whines, reaching out for it.  

“I want to play with it,” Chanmi says flatly, holding the car tightly against her chest.

“But I was pwaying with it!” Chanwoo’s voice rises, his slight lisp making the words wobble as his lower lip trembles, a tell-tale sign of impending tears.

You sigh, leaning forward slightly. “Chanmi, you can’t just take things without asking,” you say, keeping your tone calm but firm.  

“He wasn’t even playing with it!” she shoots back, her voice defiant as she rolls her eyes dramatically.  

The action makes you pause. You glance at Anton, and he meets your gaze with a similar look of shock. Chanmi has never rolled her eyes at either of you before.

“Chanmi, That’s not the point. You need to ask first. Give the car back to Chanwoo.” Anton says.

Chanmi ignores him, clutching the toy tighter. “I’m playing with it now!”

Chanwoo lets out a soft whimper, his lip trembling as tears gather in his eyes. He reaches for the toy again, his small hand just brushing it. This time, Chanmi reacts without thinking. She pushes him, a hard shove for someone so little.

The room freezes as Chanwoo stumbles backward, his tiny body wobbling as he teeters on unsteady feet. Time seems to slow. His momentum carries him dangerously close to the edge of the coffee table and your heart leaps into your throat.  

“Chanwoo!” you gasp, pushing yourself up from the couch.  

Anton is faster. He lunges forward, arms outstretched and catches Chanwoo just as the boy’s legs give out. His hand curls protectively around Chanwoo’s back, pulling him away from the table’s sharp corner.  

Chanwoo bursts into tears, his wails echoing through the room as he clings to Anton’s shirt. His little body shakes with sobs, and his face crumples into Anton’s chest.  

You sit back down heavily, your hand instinctively resting on your belly as you try to steady your breathing. The fear that has gripped you causes your heart to race.  

Anton adjusts Chanwoo in his arms, holding him close as he rubs soothing circles on his back. His jaw is tight, his usual calm replaced with a rare flicker of anger. He looks at Chanmi, his voice sharp but controlled. “Chanmi, that’s enough. You do not push your brother. Ever.”  

Chanmi stands frozen, her eyes wide as she processes what just happened. For a moment, her defiance falters but it’s quickly replaced by a pout.  

“That wasn’t very nice, Chanmi,” Yechan pipes up, looking up from her drawing. Her voice is quiet, the disappointment clear in her tone.  

You sigh, exhaustion washing over you. “Chanmi, it’s time for a timeout. We do not put our hands on anyone. Go to the corner.”  

Chanmi’s face twists into a deep frown, her bottom lip jutting out as she glares at the floor. She drops the red car with a loud clatter and without a word stomps to the corner of the room. She stands there with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her back to the rest of the family.  

Anton watches her silently, his brows furrowed in concern. Chanmi’s behavior is troubling, and he can’t shake the feeling that something deeper is going on. As Chanwoo’s sobs quiet into soft hiccups, Anton shifts him in his arms and glances at you.  

You meet his eyes sharing his unspoken worry. Something is wrong but neither of you knows exactly what.

Dinner wraps up quietly, the clatter of utensils and soft murmurs from the table filling the room. Chanmi picks at the last bits of rice on her plate, her usual chatter absent as she occasionally glances at her siblings.

“Who’s ready for screen time?” you say, standing to start clearing the table. You flash a warm smile at the twins. “Yechan, you picked the movie tonight, right?”

Yechan beams, her excitement palpable. “Uh-huh! Baby shark movieI can’t wait! It’s the best one!”

Beside her, Chanwoo cheers, his chubby hands clapping together as he echoes, “Baby Shawk!”

You glance at Chanmi. “What about you, sweetheart? Are you coming?”

Chanmi hesitates, her fork lingering over her plate before she quietly shakes her head. “No,” she murmurs, not meeting your eyes.

“No?” you repeat, surprised. Baby Shark is her favorite—she hums the songs in her sleep sometimes. “Are you sure? It’s Baby Shark, Chanmi. You love Baby Shark.”

Chanmi pushes her plate forward and slides off her chair, her shoulders slumping. “I don’t wanna watch it,” she says, not defiantly but with a quiet resignation that tugs at your heart.

Anton, watching the interaction from across the table, steps in gently. “Do you want me to help you get ready for bed then?” he asks, his voice calm and warm.

Chanmi nods silently, not saying a word as she stands beside him, her hands clutching her favorite stuffed giraffe.

You exchange a glance with Anton, your brows knitting together in shared concern. It’s unlike Chanmi to be this subdued, this… distant.

Anton stands, placing a hand on her small shoulder. “Come on, princess. Let’s get you ready.” He gently guides her toward the stairs, his movements slow and patient.

Upstairs, the quiet stretches between them. Anton combs through Chanmi’s hair carefully, his fingers working through the tangles with practiced ease. Normally, she’d chat his ear off during this time, telling him all about her day, asking endless questions, or giggling at his “daddy fails” when her braids came out lopsided. But tonight, she sits still, her giraffe clutched tightly in her lap, her little legs swinging off the edge of the bathroom counter.

“Does this hurt?” Anton asks softly as he smooths out a stubborn knot.

“No,” she whispers.

Anton works in silence, his fingers deftly weaving her soft strands into two neat braids. He finishes her hair and helps her into her pajamas—a soft pink set with little stars on them. When she brushes her teeth, he stands beside her, offering a quiet “good job” when she spits into the sink. Normally, she’d giggle at his encouragement, showing him how well she can rinse but tonight she simply wipes her mouth and looks up at him, her eyes heavy with an emotion she doesn’t know how to express.

“All done?” he asks gently.

She nods, still silent.

Anton takes her hand, her tiny fingers curling around his as he leads her to her bed.

Once she’s tucked under the covers, Anton kneels beside her, his elbow resting on the mattress as he watches her cuddle her giraffe. “Chanmi,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You’ve been so quiet tonight. Did something happen?”

Chanmi’s gaze drops to her giraffe. She fiddles with its soft ear, her lips pressing together in a thin line.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” she finally murmurs, her voice small and hesitant.

“That’s okay,” Anton reassures her, his hand moving to gently stroke her hair. “Sometimes we feel big emotions that are hard to put into words. Just try your best, princess.”

Chanmi sighs, her little shoulders rising and falling as she fiddles more aggressively with the giraffe. “I feel…” She pauses, her frustration evident as she struggles to find the right word. “I don’t know,” she says, her voice tinged with defeat.

“Hey,” Anton says softly, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “It’s okay. That happens sometimes. Take your time.”

She sighs again, this time deeper, before finally whispering, “I feel like…” Her voice trails off, and she looks up at him with wide, watery eyes. “Like you and Mommy don’t see me.”

Anton’s heart twists painfully in his chest. “What do you mean, baby?”

Her voice is barely audible as she continues. “Mommy has the new baby in her tummy, and Chanwoo is always with her. And now you’re teaching Yechan how to play cello, and I just feel…” She hesitates again, the word just out of reach.

“Invisible?” Anton offers gently, his voice careful and kind.

Chanmi’s face crumples as she nods, her small body deflating. “Yeah. Invisible.”

Anton feels his heart break all over again. He hates that his little girl feels this way, hates that he somehow missed the signs of her hurt. He reaches out and pulls her into his arms, holding her close.

“Oh, Chanmi,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m so sorry, princess. I never want you to feel like that. Mommy and I love you so much—so, so much. You’re our little baby, and nothing will ever change that.”

Chanmi sniffles into his shoulder, her small arms wrapping around his neck.

Anton pulls back just enough to look at her, his hands cupping her cheeks. “How about this,” he says, his voice gentle. “Let’s go on a daddy-daughter date, just you and me. We haven’t had one in a while, huh?”

Her eyes widen slightly, a spark of excitement breaking through the sadness. “Really?”

“Really,” he says with a smile. “And you can pick whatever you want to do. Anything at all.”

A small smile starts to form on her lips. “Can we get ice cream and go to the bookstore?”

Anton chuckles, nodding. “Of course. Ice cream and the bookstore it is.”

Her smile grows, and she throws her arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Anything for you, princess,” he whispers, kissing her forehead.

He tucks her back into bed, smoothing the blanket over her as she cuddles her giraffe. “Goodnight, baby. Sleep tight,” he says softly before standing and shutting the door with a gentle click.

When he heads back downstairs he finds you sitting on the couch, Chanwoo fast asleep in your lap, his head nestled against your belly. Yechan is completely engrossed in the Baby Shark movie, her eyes glued to the screen.

You glance up as Anton sits beside you. “Everything okay?”

Anton sits beside you, running a hand through his hair. “Chanmi said she’s been feeling invisible.”

Your heart clenches at his words, guilt washing over you. “Oh no… Is that why she’s been acting out?”

He nods. “I think so. She feels like we’ve been too busy with the new baby, Chanwoo, and Yechan. I promised her a daddy-daughter date to make it up to her.”

You smile at that, though your chest still aches. “That’s a great idea. Maybe I should take her out, too. She could use some one-on-one time with me.”

Anton reaches for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “She’ll love that.”

You nod, glancing toward the stairs. “She’s so little to be feeling that way… We’ll make it better, though.”

“We will,” Anton agrees, his gaze softening as he looks at Chanwoo’s sleeping face. “They’re all so loved but sometimes we just need to remind them.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, glancing at Yechan as she laughs at the movie and at Chanwoo’s peaceful face. “We’re so lucky to have them,” you whisper.

Anton smiles, his voice warm. “Luckiest people in the world.”

The next morning, the house is silent when Anton slips out of bed, he moves carefully not wanting to wake you. Pulling on a jacket over his pajamas, he grabs his wallet and keys before heading out the door. The brisk morning air nips at his cheeks as he walks down the street to the little flower shop that’s just beginning to open for the day.

Inside, the faint scent of fresh blooms fills the air. Anton picks out a small bouquet of pastel-colored flowers perfect for Chanmi with a little card tucked into it that he plans to write on when he gets back. He also selects a bouquet of blush pink roses for you, smiling as he imagines the look on your face when you see them. As he’s paying, a row of small stuffed animals catches his eye, and he decides to grab two—one for Chanwoo and one for Yechan.

Back home, the house is still quiet when Anton slips through the door. He takes his time writing thoughtful notes for each of the kids, personalizing them with a few sentences to remind them how much they’re loved before heading to their rooms and placing the stuffed animals and cards carefully on Chanwoo and Yechan’s bedside tables. For Chanmi, he sets her bouquet and card on the little table beside her bed. Due to Yechan and Chanmi sharing a room, he's as quiet as possible making sure not to disturb their sleep.

Once everything is in place, Anton heads downstairs to the kitchen. Rolling up his sleeves, he gets to work on breakfast. He decides to make Chanmi’s favorite—fluffy pancakes topped with whipped cream and extra strawberries. He even adds a side of hot chocolate, knowing how much she loves it. He takes his time, making sure nothing goes wrong all while keeping an ear out for the sounds of waking children.

It isn’t long before you appear at the kitchen door, Chanwoo in your arms. His head rests against your shoulder, still half-asleep, his chubby hands clutching at the fabric of your shirt. You smile at Anton, your tired eyes lighting up when you see him at the stove.

“Morning,” you say softly, leaning against the doorway.

“Morning.” Anton turns and walks over, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “You’re up early.”

“Chanwoo started fussing,” you explain, shifting his weight in your arms. “I think he heard the twins stirring.”

As if on cue, Yechan and Chanmi’s voices carry down the stairs, the rapid pitter-patter of their feet growing louder. The girls appear, hand in hand, each holding the gifts Anton left for them.

“Mommy, look!” Yechan says excitedly, holding up her stuffed animal. “I got a bear!”

“And I got flowers!” Chanmi chimes in, clutching the little bouquet to her chest. Her eyes sparkle with delight, her earlier sadness seemingly forgotten.

You laugh softly, crouching down to their level. “Those are beautiful, Chanmi and that’s such a cute bear, Yechan. Did you two thank your dad?”

The girls dart over to Anton, hugging his legs tightly. “Thank you, Daddy!” they chorus, their voices filled with glee.

Anton chuckles, kneeling to kiss the tops of their heads. “You’re welcome, my little angels. Now, go sit down for breakfast, okay?”

You place Chanwoo in his seat as the girls skip to the table giggling. Turning back to Anton you notice the pink roses sitting on the counter.

“Are those for me?” you ask, a smile playing at your lips.

Anton grins. “Of course. You deserve it.”

You lean in to kiss him, your heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Before Anton can reply, the kids start giggling loudly from the table.

“Mommy and Daddy are kissing!” Yechan squeals, her laughter infectious.

Anton sighs playfully, pressing one more quick kiss to your lips before returning to the stove. “Alright, alright, let’s eat.”

He brings the plates to the table, setting them down in front of the kids. Chanmi’s eyes widen as she sees hers—stacked high with whipped cream and strawberries.

“This is the best breakfast ever!” she declares, diving in with enthusiasm.

Yechan eyes Chanmi’s strawberries and hesitantly asks, “Can I have one?”

To your surprise, Chanmi nods and slides her plate closer to her sister. “Okay, but just one.”

You and Anton exchange a look, both of you smiling at the small but meaningful gesture.

As the meal winds down Chanmi bounces over to Anton, her excitement bubbling over. “Daddy, when are we going on our date?”

Before Anton can respond, Yechan’s lips push into a pout, her arms crossing over her chest. “I want to go on a date too!”

Anton offers her a small smile. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll take you on a date really soon, just you and me. But today is Chanmi’s special day. You and Chanwoo get to spend the day with Mommy instead.”

Yechan looks up at you, her pout easing slightly. “Can we go to the park?” she asks hopefully.

You smile, dabbing at Chanwoo’s syrup-streaked cheek with a napkin. “I’m not sure if the snow’s been cleared from the park yet, but we can go ice skating instead. How about that? And after, we’ll grab lunch together.”

At the mention of ice skating, Yechan’s face lights up, and Chanwoo’s little hands clap together. “Ice skating!” he cheers.

Anton grins. “See? It sounds like you’ll have just as much fun.”

Once breakfast wraps up, Chanmi tugs on Anton’s hand, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Daddy, can we match today?”

Anton chuckles, ruffling her hair gently. “Of course we can.”

The two head upstairs, where Chanmi digs through her closet. She pulls out a pink sweater with hello kitty and holds it up proudly. “This one!”

“Perfect choice,” Anton says. “Let’s get you dressed and then I’ll find something to match.”

Once she’s in her sweater and matching pink skirt, Chanmi holds up a set of butterfly clips. “Can you do my hair and put these in?”

“Anything for my princess,” Anton replies with a smile, sitting her on a stool in front of the mirror. He carefully braids her hair, securing the clips in place with precise fingers.

When he’s done Chanmi beams at her reflection then asks, “can I put some in your hair too, Daddy?”

Anton laughs, raising an eyebrow. “Okay, baby.”

Chanmi rummages through Yechan’s hair bin, grabbing another set of butterfly clips. She giggles as she clips them haphazardly into his hair, some at odd angles and others dangling from the ends of his mullet.

She claps her hands in delight when she’s done. “You look so pretty, Daddy!”

Anton strikes a dramatic pose in the mirror. “Do I look good enough to be your date?”

Chanmi nods eagerly, her giggles filling the room. “The best date ever!”

Once they’re both ready, they say goodbye to the rest of the family and Anton drives them to their first stop, the bookstore. The warm, inviting space is filled with the scent of paper and the faint hum of soft music. Chanmi’s eyes light up as she explores the children’s section, running her fingers over the colorful spines.

She scans the shelves with wide eyes, pulling down books faster than Anton can keep up.

“Can we read this one? And this one?” she asks, holding up a book about a talking unicorn and another about a curious fairy.

Anton smiles, his patience unwavering. “Let’s find a comfy spot, and we’ll read as many as you want.”

They settle into a cozy corner with bean bag chairs shaped like animals. Chanmi climbs into Anton’s lap, flipping through the pages of the first book.

Her little fingers trace the pictures on the pages, and her voice is animated as she asks question after question.

“Do you think unicorns really live in the clouds?” she asks, wide-eyed.

“Maybe,” Anton replies, his tone playful. “If you use your imagination, anything’s possible.”

They go through several books, Chanmi pointing out her favorite illustrations and making up her own endings to the stories. Eventually, Anton tells her to pick three books to take home.

“Only three?” she asks, her lower lip jutting out.

Anton chuckles, leaning closer. “Alright, four. But that’s the limit.”

Her pout disappears as she carefully selects her favorites. After paying for the books, Anton kneels to hand her a small surprise: a pastel pink journal.

“This is for you,” he says. “It’s your very own journal. You can write or draw in it whenever you have something special to share or when you feel like keeping your thoughts somewhere safe.”

Her eyes widen as she holds it, running her fingers over the textured cover. “Really? Just for me?”

“Just for you,” Anton confirms, smiling.

Chanmi tilts her head curiously. “What should I write in it?”

“Anything you want,” Anton replies. “You can draw pictures, write about your day, or even make up your own stories—like the ones we just read.”

A wide grin spreads across her face, and she throws her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Daddy! I love it!”

Anton hugs her tightly, his heart swelling at her happiness. “Anything for you, princess.”

After leaving the bookstore, Chanmi tugs on Anton’s hand, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Can we get ice cream now? You promised!”

Anton laughs, glancing down at her as they step into the crisp winter air. “Ice cream it is. Let’s go.”

The drive to the ice cream parlor is filled with her cheerful humming as she clutches her new journal to her chest. When they arrive Chanmi presses her nose to the glass display taking her time as she surveys the colorful array of flavors. Her little finger taps the glass when she finally decides. “Strawberry with rainbow sprinkles!”

“Good choice,” Anton says with a grin. He orders his own cone—a classic chocolate chip—and carries their treats to a small table by the window. Sunlight streams in, catching the glint of the butterfly clips still haphazardly placed in his hair.

Chanmi swings her legs under the table taking small deliberate bites of her ice cream as though savoring every bit of it. Between bites she hums a soft tune, her joy practically radiating.

“Daddy,” she says suddenly, her voice soft and thoughtful, “I’m gonna write in my journal every day.”

Anton smiles, reaching across the table to wipe a stray dollop of ice cream from her cheek. “I can’t wait to see what you write about. You’ll have to show me your favorite pages, okay?”

“Okay,” she chirps, her grin wide and sticky from the melting ice cream. She looks up at him with adoration, her eyes bright. “You’re the best daddy ever.”

Anton’s chest tightens. He reaches across the table, cupping her cheek gently. “And you, princess, are the best daughter ever.”

Her giggles fill the cozy parlor as she finishes the last of her cone and Anton can’t help but marvel at how precious this moment is.

As they drive home, Chanmi chats excitedly about all the things she plans to draw and write in her journal. Anton listens intently, his hands steady on the wheel occasionally glancing at her in the rearview mirror.

“Chanmi,” he says after a pause, his tone softening. “I want to tell you something.”

She tilts her head, curious. “What is it, Daddy?”

“You’re so important to me,” he begins, his voice warm and steady. “To all of us. You’re such a bright, special part of this family.”

Chanmi listens quietly, her small hands clutching her journal.

“I know there might be times when it feels like Yechan and Chanwoo get more attention and that can be really hard.” He glances at her in the mirror, making sure she’s listening. “But it’s not because we love them more or because you’re not just as special. You are loved just as much as they are—always.”

She blinks, her expression thoughtful.

“And you know what else?” Anton continues, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s okay to feel upset or sad sometimes. It’s okay to feel your emotions but when you do, I want you to remember that it’s always better to talk about them instead of acting out or keeping them inside. Mommy and I will always want to listen to you, no matter how you’re feeling—good or bad.”

“Really?” she asks softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Really,” Anton reassures her.

Her eyes widen and she hugs the journal to her chest a little tighter.

“No matter how busy things get, no matter what’s going on, I’ll always have time for you. I promise, Chanmi.”

She blinks up at him, her voice quiet but firm. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Anton says, his tone resolute. “You’ll always be my little princess.”

A smile slowly spreads across her face, and she leans back in her seat, seeming reassured.

When they arrive home, Chanmi bursts through the door, her excitement spilling over. “Mommy! Yechan! Chanwoo! Look at my new books!”

She pulls them out of the bag, carefully showing each one off as Yechan and Chanwoo crowd around her, their curiosity piqued. “And look!” she says proudly, holding up the journal. “Daddy got this just for me!”

Yechan peers at the pink cover, her eyes wide. “What’s it for?”

“It’s for me to write and draw in,” Chanmi explains, her voice full of pride.

Chanwoo looks up at Anton. “Do I get one too?”

Anton kneels to their level, smiling. “Chanmi’s journal is special because it’s just for her but you each have your own special ways of expressing yourselves. We’ll figure out what those are, okay?”

Both Yechan and Chanwoo nod, satisfied with the answer.

Later that evening, after the excitement has settled and dinner, Anton tucks Chanmi into bed. She clings to him tightly, wrapping her arms around his neck as she whispers, “Thank you for today, Daddy.”

Anton kisses the top of her head, his voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you, princess. I had the best time with you.”

As he pulls the blanket up to her chin, she snuggles into her pillow clutching her journal close. Anton lingers for a moment, watching her drift off to sleep, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude for the chance to spend the day with his daughter.

[mads-weasley]

I've Got You

Marc Spector x Wife!Reader

Masterlist

MOON KNIGHT EP. 3 SPOILERS BELOW

A/N: To say I'm in love with Moon Knight is an understatement. I was already in love with Oscar Isaac, but now it's reached a whole other level! This is kinda trash, but it's okay! I do not own any of these characters except (y/n)! Enjoy!

Summary: While visiting Sinfu's sarcophagus at Mogart's in order to get the coordinates to Ammit's tomb, something goes wrong and Marc is forced to deal with his only weakness; you.

Warnings: oscar isaac, violence, mentions of death, blood, hospitals?

y/n - your name

y/n/n - your nickname

y/h/c - your hair color

Khonshu's Voice - bold

Steven's Voice - italics

This was not how (y/n) and Marc thought the night was going to go. It was supposed to be a simple in and out mission to discover the coordinates of Ammit's tomb, but clearly, things did not go according to plan. Right after Marc, well, really his alter Steven, started figuring out the map, Anton's men caught onto their act and took the couple hostage.

Then Arthur Harrow and his goons showed up. The whole time he was doing his speech about Ammit and her powers, (y/n) couldn't help but wonder why Marc hadn't summoned the suit yet. Glancing over to him, she raised her eyebrows with widened eyes, silently asking the question on her mind. It was like he was waiting on her queue.

"Hey, he's gone." announced one of the guards.

"Where is he?" another asked.

(Y/n) looked up at the metal structure in front of her, smirking when she saw her husband in the suit. Within 5 seconds, he had taken out the goon holding her and two others on his way down. Everything after that seemed like a blur.

Before long, Marc was caught up in the horse ring while (y/n) was in an intense fight with Anton's right hand man in front of the sarcophagus. She dodged a punch to the jaw and caught sight of Marc. What she saw made her freeze. In this moment of weakness, the man grabbed her and threw her against the metal structure. Landing in a heap, (y/n) looked back at Marc and knew she had to help him. She reached up, dismantling her neckpiece into two daggers before charging the man and piercing his chest with both blades.

Running towards the horse ring, she grabbed the man's discarded gun and hopped over the fence into the circle. Marc was being held down by three men who had impaled him with spears the trainers had been using. Seeing one riding towards him, she easily took him out with a single shot.

"Marc!" She yelled, running towards him.

"No! (Y/n), look out!"

His warning was too late as Anton, who was on a horse, bashed (y/n) in the head with the blunt end of a spear. She instantly crumpled to the ground and Marc thought his head was going to explode with anger. The suit disappeared from around his face as he cried out for her.

"(Y/n)!"

Unphased, Anton rode and grabbed another spear, intending on finishing off the woman right before Marc's very eyes. With a smirk aimed at her husband, he turned towards the (y/h/c). With glowing eyes, Marc's mask formed over his face once again. Something snapped inside him, and in seconds, he had broken free of the spears holding him down and taken out all three of the men.

Anton stared at Marc for a few seconds before he made his move. As he started riding full speed towards her, Marc took off as well, promising himself that he'd make it in time. The two men were mere feet apart when Marc was able to haphazardly pull her away from Anton's path. After making sure she was out of harm's way, he quickly took Anton out, throwing one of his crescent daggers into his back.

Now that the threat was gone, he returned to his normal form and hurried over to his wife's unmoving body.

"Baby, are you okay?" he asked, rolling her over onto her back. When he got no response, his hands moved gently around her face, shaking it ever-so slightly. It looked like she was peacefully sleeping, and that's what scared him the most.

"Come on sweetheart, wake up."

After a few moments, her eyes slowly fluttered open, and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Smoothing back her hair lovingly, he helped her sit up.

"Can you stand?" Marc asked.

(Y/n) nodded shakily, trying to pull herself to her feet. Just as soon as she managed to get upright, her knees buckled. Her vision went blurry as she tried to grasp out at thin air, or anything, really, to stop her from-

Marc caught her before she hit the ground, helping her sit back down. "S-sorry," (Y/n) stutters, "I-"

Trying not to show his concern, he calmly rubs her hair once again. "It's okay." As her eyes started to close, he quickly moved his hand to cup her cheek. "You're okay. You're okay...Baby, what's wrong?"

He could barely understand her as she slurred. "I don' kno-" before finally drifting back to unconsciousness. His heart felt as if it was in his stomach. He had only recently been reunited with (y/n) after a very long while, and he refused to lose her again. Quickly, he checked for a pulse and thankfully found one.

Shifting her where she was leaned up against him, he cradled her head in his hands, praying she'd wake up. He pulled his hand back and almost threw up at the sight. It was covered with blood.

"No, no, no," he panicked, getting a look at the injury. Her normally beautiful (y/h/c) hair was now stained with the dark red substance.

Steven's anxious voice made an appearance. "Oh no, oh no, she needs to get to a hospital right now."

In a split second decision, Marc gently picked her up bridal style, heading for the closest way off the island. Looking down at her, his eyes started to burn with unshed tears. "You're gonna be okay, (y/n/n). It's okay. I've got you."

A voice boomed in his head. "Marc. What are you doing?"

Khonshu.

"I'm getting her to a hospital."

"You can't do that. If Arthur Har-"

Spinning around to face the god, Marc sneered. "I don't care about him. I care about my wife."

~

The pungent smell of hospital disinfectant stung his nostrils as he slumped in the bedside chair of the small room. Marc hadn't left his wife's side since she got moved to a room after they stitched her up. The doctors said she had a concussion, but would be fine with rest. Now he was just waiting for her to wake up.

Careful of her IV, he gently wrapped his hand around hers, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb against the top of her hand. Thinking back on all the dangerous situations he had ever been in as a mercenary, he had never been scared, but when he saw (y/n) go down, he had never been more scared in his life.

The tears that had formed on his waterline finally came trickling down his face as he stared at his lap. "I'm so sorry, (y/n/n). I should've protected you. I know I haven't been there for you a-and this is the exact reason why. I didn't want you getting hurt." Rubbing his free hand slowly down his face, he continued, "I love you too much to see you lying in a hospital bed because of me. I ca-"

"You finished?" a raspy voice interrupted.

"Thank you." Steven said, " I couldn't take that any longer!"

Ignoring the Brit, his eyes sapped up to hers, a smile spread across his face as he whispered. "Hey, you. How're you feeling?"

"Like I got hit in the head by a spear." she quipped

Marc grimaced. "I'm surprised you remember that." His face turned serious. "You really scared me."

"It's not your fault. I heard the last bit of your "confession" and I don't want to hear anymore of it. Honestly, I just want to go back to sleep. My head is killing me."

He started getting up. "Okay, I'll leave you alone."

"Whoa, mister. You didn't let me finish."

"Alright," he chuckled.

"The only other thing I want more than a nap is for you to hold me. Luckily, I think we can kill two birds with one stone here."

Folding back the covers, a smiling Marc climbed in next to his wife and wrapped her in his strong arms. She yawned. "I missed this. I missed you, Marc."

"I missed you so much." He paused, "I love you, but go to sleep. You need it."

"I love you to the moon and back."

His heart warmed at the old joke between them, but before he could answer, he could hear her soft snores. With a chuckle, he kissed her temple.

"I've got you. To the moon and back."