#i just fell in love all over again???? boi

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

rick riordan is not above criticism obviously and the trials of apollo series isn't flawless, but the way so many people flipped on him and trashed the series claiming homophobia over the hunters of artemis and the reyna plotline will never sit right with me tbh. nothing about those storylines were homophobic? people were acting like artemis cursed emmie and jo and threw them in a trash heap when they fell in love- when in canon she was literally like "oh congrats guys! obviously you can't stay in the hunt because of the explicit no romance vow, but I'm gonna give you guys a free magical house and you can still help and maintain contact with the hunters and I'm even gonna give you a baby!!!" like just because you had a headcanon of the hunters all making out in the moonlight doesn't mean it's bigoted and evil when it doesn't get written into the canon 😭 and the reyna thing. like christ I understand the appeal of lesbian reyna. I understand the popular headcanon of lesbian reyna. but people were SO mad about her not coming out and joining the hunters that they...seemingly missed the part where she mentioned dating girls as well as boys?? 😭 it was literally insane. she literally said she dated that venus girl gwen. she decided to join the hunters and focus on herself and not have the responsibility of an entire military force on her shoulders and people were calling that. homophobic. I'm sorry that's insane like there are other plotlines happening in these stories 😭😭 if I'm recalling correctly the influx of angry messages and comments about this are what actually sent riordan over the edge and made him turn all his comments off, and his wife kept tweeting about cyberbullying (which was an overreaction don't get me wrong) and like....the books were good. not perfect again but I don't understand why people got so angry over ultimately harmless plotlines that made sense. and again like he's not above criticism! for example I think the way he went about piper coming out was weird (everything he writes about piper is tbh) but I never see anyone criticize that? I just hate that the series got a bad rep for nothing

[chrissssssmut]

My Huh Yunjin...

Huh Yunjin x Yandere Male reader

(First ever requested fic! Hope u see this! Pls bare with me with the upload schedule 😭)

Huh Yunjin was perfect.

Everyone loved her.

She was the kind of girl who made people stop and stare when she walked into a room. The kind of girl who laughed like sunshine and made even the coldest hearts melt. Teachers adored her, classmates wanted to be her, and boys tripped over themselves just to get a second of her attention.

She wasn’t just beautiful—she was breathtaking. Unforgettable. The kind of girl who made the world feel like it revolved around her.

And she was your best friend.

At first, you were proud.

She stood beside you, smiling, talking, laughing. With you. No one else had that. No one else was as close to her as you were.

But then you started to notice—

She wasn’t just yours.

She had too many friends. Too many admirers. Too many people who thought they deserved a piece of her.

It made your skin crawl.

She was slipping away.

And you couldn’t let that happen.

So one by one, you took away everything that tried to pull her from you.

And slowly—bit by bit—her world fell apart..

It started with Yunjin’s first real crush, Lee Hyunwoo.

A quiet, charming boy from her class, he played the guitar and always lent her his jacket when she forgot hers. He was gentle, kind—safe.

One day, just when she worked up the courage to confess, Hyunwoo vanished.

"Expelled," someone whispered. "Cheating scandal. His whole family’s embarrassed."

It didn’t make sense. Hyunwoo was obsessively studious—he’d rather die than cheat. But the evidence was airtight. Someone leaked messages, screenshots, proof that he had stolen exam answers.

Yunjin tried calling him. Number disconnected. She messaged him. No response.

The only one who seemed to care was you.

"You’re better off," you had told her, sitting beside her on the school steps. "He wasn’t good for you anyway."

She sighed, leaning into you for comfort.

She didn’t see the victorious glint in your eyes.

Yunjin and Kazuha had been inseparable. They were more than best friends; they were sisters.

Then, suddenly, Kazuha moved away.

"She never told me she was leaving," Yunjin mumbled, scrolling through their old messages.

"Maybe she didn’t think you’d care," you replied.

Yunjin frowned. "Of course I care."

She called. No answer.

She checked social media. Kazuha was gone. Every account deleted.

Her parents wouldn’t tell her anything. It was like Kazuha had been erased from existence.

You sat beside her, stroking her hair.

"People leave," you whispered. "But I never will."

She sniffled, nodding.

She didn’t know that Kazuha’s departure was your doing.

She didn’t know you had threatened her.

Music was Yunjin’s life.

She had spent months preparing for the talent showcase—her shot at being scouted.

Two days before the event, she got the call.

"We received an anonymous tip that you plagiarized your piece. We can’t let you perform."

Her world shattered.

She sat alone in the empty auditorium, fingers shaking.

"Why does this keep happening?" she whispered.

You sat beside her, pressing a hand against her back.

"Maybe it’s a sign," you murmured. "Maybe you don’t need all that. You just need me."

Her throat tightened.

She didn’t know that the anonymous tip came from you.

That you had destroyed her chance at leaving.

Because if she succeeded, she’d go far, far away—away from you.

And that was unacceptable.

At first, Yunjin thought she was just unlucky.

But when everything crumbled—again and again—and you were always there afterward…

She finally saw the truth.

She connected the dots.

Hyunwoo.

Kazuha.

Her dreams.

All gone.

And the only constant was you.

Her heart pounded as she stared at you.

"You did this," she whispered.

You tilted your head. "What are you talking about?"

She stood up, shaking. "You—You ruined my life. Every time I had something good, it disappeared. Hyunwoo. Kazuha. My showcase. It was you, wasn’t it?"

Your expression didn’t change.

Then, slowly—you smiled.

"And if it was?"

Her breath hitched.

"You—"

"You were meant to be mine, Yunjin," you murmured, stepping closer. "I only got rid of the things that were taking you away from me."

Her stomach twisted.

"You’re crazy," she choked out.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "No, Yunjin. I’m in love with you."

She froze.

Your eyes darkened.

"And I won’t let anyone take you from me."

She ran.

She fought.

She lost.

You overpowered her easily, dragging her through the dark streets as she screamed for help.

Her fists slammed against your chest. She kicked wildly, nails clawing at your skin.

"LET ME GO!"

You pressed a cloth over her mouth, voice gentle.

"Shh, Yunjin. It’s okay. I’ve got you."

Her struggles weakened.

Her screams faded.

And when she woke up, everything was different.

At first, she thought she had escaped.

She woke up in her bed. Sunlight streamed through the window. She could hear birds. Smell coffee.

Relief flooded her.

"It was just a nightmare," she whispered.

She sat up—

Chains rattled.

Her wrists were tied to the bed.

The sunlight was just a lamp.

The birds were a recording.

The coffee was a candle.

She wasn’t home.

She was still with you.

Her breath quickened.

The door creaked open.

You stepped inside, smiling softly.

"Good morning, Yunjin. I hope you slept well."

Her heart stopped.

"This isn’t real," she whimpered.

You tilted your head.

"Of course it is," you murmured, brushing her hair back. "You’re home. Our home."

Tears streamed down her face.

"No, no, no—"

You pulled her into your arms.

"Hush, my love." you whispered. "You don’t have to worry anymore."

She tried to struggle, but you were stronger.

She begged.

"I’ll be your best friend forever! I promise! Just don’t—please don’t do this!"

You smiled.

"I don’t want to be just your best friend, Yunjin."

Your grip tightened.

"I want you to be mine."

She sobbed. You hated that sound.

You hit her. Hard.

Not enough to break anything—just enough to make her stop crying.

"Why do you do that?" you muttered, rubbing your knuckles. "I don’t like fucking hurting you. But you make me do it."

Yunjin bit her lip, swallowing her sobs.

Good.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small knife.

She stiffened.

"Shh," you whispered, pressing the tip against her skin. "I’m not going to kill you. I just…"

You pressed down lightly, watching as a thin line of red bloomed against her skin.

"Beautiful," you murmured, leaning down.

Yunjin shuddered as your tongue flicked across the wound, licking up the blood.

You sighed.

"You taste just like I imagined."

Her breathing was ragged.

"Please," she whispered. "Please let me go."

You smiled, cupping her cheek.

"Why would I ever do that?"

The television hummed in the background, and the news anchor’s voice filled the dimly lit room.

"Breaking news: Authorities are still searching for missing girl Huh Yunjin, who disappeared two weeks ago. Police suspect foul play—"

Yunjin’s breath caught in her throat.

You turned to the screen, a slow smile spreading across your lips.

"They’ll never find you," you murmured. Then, you turned back to her, your smile widening. "Because you belong to me, Yunjin."

Tears streamed down her face.

You hated that.

Your grip tightened around her face, fingers digging into her skin until it bled.

"You will never find freedom again," you growled, squeezing until she whimpered.

"You’re mine my love. Forever and always."

[juyeoz]

I’M RIGHT HERE — LEE RIWOO

SYNOPSIS — Riwoo knows crushing on his best friend’s sibling isn’t the best idea, and luckily for him, karma is able to show him that he is right.

PAIRING — dancer!riwoo x bsf-sibling-gn!reader (there’s not much on him dancing tbh)

CONTAINS — angst, mentions of break ups, crying, heavy unrequited love, it’s just sad tbh……..!

WORDCOUNT — 1006 words

NOTE — this was for my beloveds pftbz rhin and soph 🤍 right here by justin bieber also inspired this……….

Lee Riwoo knows finding his best friend’s sibling attractive is bad. Nevertheless, having feelings for her is even worse. He knows this is all a bad idea, but how can he help himself especially if you are sitting in front of him and crying?

The dance studio Riwoo is always in is quiet. The lights are dimmed and your glossy eyes are shining in his face. He has no clue why you’re feeling so emotional, and yet he still feels terrible. 

“What’s wrong?” Riwoo asks, hesitating to reach his hand out and thumb away your tears.

If there is another thing Riwoo knows about you, it is definitely your relationship with your significant other. So, what if he does the wrong move and weirds you out? What will your significant other do to him if they ever found out about his possible action?

It’s another reason why he keeps his distance from you and forces him to suppress his feelings that threaten to arise.

He knows you’re a bad idea and that he should stay away from you, but he can’t. Riwoo physically cannot bring himself to do such a thing. 

You greet him with such excitement whenever he appears beside your brother, Sungho, only giving him more hope that he has a chance with you.

However, the day you run into him leaving the dance studio after another successful solo practice, things change. Riwoo’s possible chances disappear at the sight of the person beside you — your new significant other.

Everything that he believed was hope was nothing more than false.

It’s over for Riwoo. There’s no way he can get another chance to be with you within his time of knowing you. Eventually, you two will drift away and you’ll be known as Sungho’s sibling once again while he is known as just the boy Sungho is friends with. The one that often appears at your house to hangout with your brother. 

The one who Sungho constantly boasts about because he believes Riwoo is very talented. However, to himself he will always be the one who fell in love with you at first sight.

Clearly, this is a thought that crosses Riwoo’s mind often. However, the moment he found out you were taken, it stopped making its rounds in his head. 

Brief silent moments are full with your constant sniffles and the faint sound of the song Riwoo is choreographing to playing in the background. 

He waits and waits for your response, not wanting to rush someone in such a weak state.

“We broke up.” 

Your voice leaves your mouth weakly as his brows perk up your words. 

What do you mean?

“We broke up and I don’t know why.” Your tears continue to stream down your face at a faster speed than before.

Without a second thought, Riwoo’s hands cup your cheeks and wipe away your tears using his thumbs. 

You lower your own arms, your wrists tired from rubbing at your eyes every second tears threaten to fall, and cry.

Despite Riwoo knowing that doing this is a bad idea, he can’t leave you feeling vulnerable. If he does, Sungho will come after him. There’s no doubt about it.

The thought of having a chance barely crosses his mind. It makes a split second appearance but doesn’t distract him for long.

He spaces out with his eyes still on you, but nothing is heard through his ears. 

It’s silent. 

Almost like a ringing sound.

He leans back onto the wall behind him, pulling you into his chest in the process. Riwoo doesn’t care if his shirt gets wet by your tears and possible snot. Who would during such a moment?

In this position, he occasionally rubs circles on your back and plays with your hair in a comforting way.

He only cares if a hug will make you feel better. He wants to see you smile instead of frown and bawl your eyes out. 

The opposite is the last thing he wants to see.

Disregarding that, it’s obvious that not everything is in Riwoo’s favour because the last thing he will forever want to hear suddenly leaves your lips.

“I still want to…” 

Your voice gets muffled in his chest, leaving the boy confused. 

“What did you say?” He asks while running his hand up and down the back of your head. 

“Be with them. I still want to be with them.” You repeat with such certainty in your voice. With that said, it’s obvious that you see Riwoo as a friend or even a shoulder to cry on and nothing more.

He tenses at your words, his movements halting for a brief second as regret settles in his system.

Riwoo regrets his question. He is better off not hearing such a thing escape your lips. Clearly, his feelings for you are nothing more than an unnecessary distraction from how he should really see you.

A friend. Or even worse, just Sungho’s sibling.

Is this karma hitting him for thinking he ever had a chance to make you his? Is this one of his out-of-this-world thoughts that he can’t reach?

Is it his fault for letting himself get so close to you even while knowing you are a bad idea?

It’s not his fault he can’t walk away, right? You have him hooked around your finger and you never thought of him the same way.

Riwoo should have known the moment he found out you were Sungho’s sibling that you’d be out of his reach. 

Still, he let his heart and feelings get the best of him.

Whatever, this current moment isn’t about him. He should focus on making sure you feel better about your whole break up.

His own breakdown can wait until he is ready for it — which is hopefully, never.

With a sigh, Riwoo pulls you in closer as his embrace tightens, fighting back the urges to not say his next words. But to his dismay, he fails and says them anyway.

“I’m right here. It’s okay, you can cry.” 

© JUYEOZ

BOYNEXTDOOR PERM TAGLIST — @ancnymcnzjy @miumura @ilovedallywinston @i03jae @borednia @s0shroe @leehanwish @sol3chu @en-dream @ribbeoms @itsactuallylina @macapunoz @hollxe1 @r1kification @mensisim @mydearyeseo @sunghxxnie @taesanfav @wonzzziezzzz @ijustwannareadstuff20

[nevaehcole69]

My sisters, girlfriends, cousins, and friends, really any girl I hung out with at there house, I pretty much make it a point to steal a pair or a few pairs of sexy panties off you if your a hot girl and I’m attracted to ya and wish I could have the chance to fuck her, so if wear them and I’d masterbate waring them then I started to wear them instead of boxers under my boy cloths and cause it was secret it turned me on when I’d wear them in public and then eventually I fell in love with the way my baby dick looks so small and cute when it’s compressed in a baby bulge in panties and thongs. I love it honestly wish I could shrink it smaller in panties so the bludgeoned would be smaller so I wear them all the time now

I even stole my friends mothers Victoria secrets thong from the bathroom floor I droped my pants put them on and wore them home, shit turns me on I went home and jacked off wearing them, shortly i found my self wearing a lingerie nighty and a sexy pair of panties legs shaved and I’m on my hands and knees sucking my friends dick and taking it in the ass from behind while he nutts all over my face and in my mouth while your friend gapped your ass and filled you with his nut while your locked In Chasity leaking cum everywhere in your panties making a cummy wet mess from being fucked by a real man’s cock just like all the girls you are friends with, now these days I’ve accepted the fact that a girl is never going to have sex with my baby bulge in panties locked in Chasity with cum covered panties with cum leaking out nut gaped ass with cum running down your crack soaking into your g string while wearing a girls lingerie nighty with your makeup all smeared and covered in jizz wile you lay as they clean as they both make you clean the cum off there cocks before they leave make you get dressed and leave with cum dripping out ur butt running down your leg

Guess what wearing panties you stole off your hot as neighbors and cousins and girlfriends might just be the reason girls don’t come to you for sex any more, or maybe it’s cause your baby dick can’t compete with there sexy big dick, maybe it’s the cum that’s running down your panties that you stole from the girl in gymnastics while her gym bag was unattended while she was at your house after practice.

Pervert.

You’re a girl now cause with your small dick in Chasity bras panties and lingerie you’ll never get to be the man In bed again with another girl

Pussy

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader [18+] | p. 13

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

-> <-

February 1984

Eddie slams his fist into the vending machine. The bastard ate his last dollar, and is refusing to return the other quarter he slid into the machine. This is just his luck.

"I might have another dollar," Gareth offers up.

Eddie shakes his head. "Don't bother.”

Gareth is already fishing through his wallet. Shit, he might have quarters to give up to his friend. Money has been tight on Eddie - Gareth was over last weekend, and the fridge was empty. Not to mention that he also caught a glimpse into Eddie's lunchbox, and there was hardly any food inside. A bag of pretzels, and an old napkin.

While fishing in his wallet, Gareth drops something. It lands with a plop on the school linoleum. Racing to snatch the condom, before Eddie can get his hands on it - he fails. Eddie flicks it between his fingers thoughtfully.

“Uh,” Gareth holds out one more quarter, “trade?”

How could this be any more awkward? With an audience maybe? Eddie didn’t even know you two were at that point in your relationship. Well, he still doesn’t. Should he ask?

Eddie doesn’t say a word, and Gareth takes the condom back. To prevent that from happening again, Gareth makes sure it’s secure in a deeper part of his wallet.

Clunk - clunk - clunk.

The vending machine does take Gareth’s quarters. With an aching buzz and a whirl, Eddie now has lunch. A crappy bag of chips that would fill him for another hour at best. Maybe he should have payed closer attention to his choices.

Suddenly, the hallway from the vending machines to the cafeteria feels more like a million steps instead of just a couple around the corner. The boys scuffle along the tile making an awful racket. Eddie pops the chip bag open upside down, and offers the snack out to Gareth.

“I’m good,” he doesn’t want to take away food from Eddie right now.

Eddie shrugs his shoulders, and tries his best not to look terribly ravenous eating the chips in front of him. The cold truth is that he is surviving on junk until this Friday when Wayne gets paid. That, or he meets up with his boss. Eddie gets a sizable cut for the deals he makes selling weed to the kids that hate him the most. Rich kids. Church kids. All that matters is that these hypocrites have the cash, and Eddie hands out the supply. It’s simple. Very under the table.

The thing he can’t get off his mind is what Gareth is carrying around with him. A condom. It’s one condom.

Of course, Eddie knows what it is for. The better question is have you done it? Have you let Gareth do that to you? It’s against his better judgment that he asks the fatal question. He might as well load the bullet into the gun, then point it at his head, before letting Gareth pull the trigger.

“Are you guys- uh- have you guys-,”

Gareth stops abruptly in the hallway. This is not the conversation that he wishes to have right now. Not with Eddie in the least. Although, the halls are bare except for the few darting to the bathroom to smoke while the teachers aren’t looking. He’s done that enough times.

Truthfully, Gareth only stuck that thing in his wallet when the two of you began to date. Going to the store to buy them was enough of a challenge not to be seen by anyone from school or by anyone around town that his mom might know. The cashier gave him enough of a look over that made Gareth wonder if this was even a good idea in the first place.

It’s on his mind - you and him - like that. Sometimes Gareth wonders if he’s just a pervert because surely you can’t have the same mind that he does. Then again, you have needs too. Right?

Gareth is jittery already. It’s Valentine’s Day, and aside from buying you a bouquet of flowers, he’s also taking you to the school dance tonight. There’s a big announcement about it around a month ago.

You show little interest in the events around school, but every once in a while Gareth sees a twinge of excitement come from you. A flyer in the hallway caught your eye, and so he asked you. You were just as shocked as he was when the words flew out of his mouth. But, the smile grew on your face and he was smitten.

Gareth is thrilled to escort you to the dance. The nerves draw from getting dressed tonight. He’s got no idea what you’re wearing, but his tie will match your dress. For only this night, his mom is allowing him to borrow the car. She expects him to take you there and back in one piece. That is his plan too.

For the most part, his mom trusts him. The only child. The only one she’s got to keep an eye on. She’s proud of who he’s become as he’s growing up. Gareth regularly tries to stay out of trouble despite his outward appearance, and the ear shattering music that comes from the garage.

Gareth wants to continue his string of good luck with his mom by following her rules. The only problem is that now he has a condom in his wallet. A new player has entered the battlefield.

To tell Eddie the truth, Gareth has wanted to ask for his advice. How does he even approach the question? Is it a question? He doesn’t just want to start anything with you, and then you’re uncomfortable.

Eddie has experience. Gareth knows this. There’s been a time or two that Eddie has accepted a different form of payment to his after-school transactions. It’s not like he’s implied that any of his customers have to do that. But, as Eddie says, it’s the perks of being a good businessman. He takes it as a tip.

The only problem with asking Eddie for advice is how close you two are. If he found out that Gareth needed help in that department, then it would be easy to tell who he was talking about. And, if he isn’t talking about you, then who’s he talking about and how easy could Eddie hide Gareth’s body when he’s through with him.

Gareth scratches the back of his neck trying to find the words to reply to Eddie in a manner that’s not outwardly asking for sex advice. As he’s scanning his brain, Eddie is holding his breath for an answer. An honest answer.

“We’re not,” Gareth answers him finally, and thus letting Eddie breathe again. “I don’t know -,”

There’s a pregnant pause. Either boy doesn’t speak. The hallway stinks of cafeteria food bleeding down the rest of the school. It’ll smell like that all day. At least the biology classes haven’t started dissecting frogs yet.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Eddie huffs. “Either you are or you aren’t.”

Why did Eddie want to know so badly? He wishes he could shove his foot into his own mouth. A part of him wants to hear Gareth say that they are doing that. No idea why. Gareth isn’t the worst person in the world for you to be doing that with. It’s just - maybe someday, Eddie had hoped that would be him.

Eddie really has to give up on the thought of you two ever becoming a thing. It’s not healthy. It’s selfish. You’re into Gareth. And, if he’s making you happy then Eddie should be too. Even though the sting still feels fresh against his alabaster skin.

“Gareth."

Gareth winces at how abrupt his friend calls him by name.

“Just,” Eddie pinches his brows together, “be kind to her. And do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Please, spare me the details.”

-> <-

The sun has just set across Hawkins, but there is no moon to be seen. Clouds across the sky cast a blue-gray haze over the town. This doesn’t stop you from wearing your most favorite piece in your closet. Now you have an excuse to wear it, since your birthday didn’t work out. You zip up the back of the dress that Gareth bought for you.

Your hands dance along the side of the fabric that hugs at your waist. Lips press together to blend your lipstick in better, while you check all the details in your mascara.

The quiet air is suddenly broken by the shattering sound of glass in the kitchen. Even in a pair of heels, you’re quick to race out of your room.

Standing over twinkles of shards, your mother has drunkenly let a drinking glass slip from her grasp. Her hand trembles, but she doesn’t make much noise at the mess in front of her.

“Are you okay?” You stand in front of her on the other side of the mess.

Your mom has been home for a total of three days. That’s more time that you’ve ever seen her in the last few months. You’ve become quite used to coming home to a quiet house. The one day when she had shown up, you thought she was an intruder and you armed yourself with the baseball bat you have by your bedside.

Surprisingly, the moment she came home she was sober. No idea how she got home. That lasted all of an hour when she claimed she had a headache, then went out for booze. She came home again, and drank through nearly a bottle and a half of vodka. Enough to kill her. Maybe that was her plan. Leave you with the debt, and she’ll be buried six feet under.

None-the-less for some reason you still care. Three whole days of this, and you’ll still reach your arm out to catch her when she sways. She flinches away from you. Not a fan of touch anymore. At least, not your touch. She still has clients she reaches out too at ungodly hours of the night. She’s loud about the conversations, but if you ask her to lower her voice then she calls you unbearably nosey.

Why are you so glad to have her home? It’s so confusing all the time. The way you pick up after her. You’ve taken on her responsibilities. Shit, you’re looking for a job to begin to pay the bills that she can’t afford.

You’re sweeping the last of the glass, while your mother nurses a bottle of tequila in the dark corner of your kitchen. She hasn’t cut herself from the glass that she’s dropped.

“There’s macaroni in the fridge,” it’s like reasoning with a spirit in a human body. “Please eat.”

Your mother groans. All you do is pester her. Why did she have your ungrateful ass in the first place? A cat would have been less trouble than you.

There is a knock at the front door. You aren’t expecting anyone, but maybe your mom is. There are plenty of dirty men that want something from her.

“Gareth?” You pull open the door, and there is your date for the evening. Clean. Suit and tie. He smells expensive. All this for you. You shut the door behind you fearing your mom might gain a wind of energy. “What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting at the dance?”

Gareth is awestruck by you. For one, your radiance is unmatched and is indescribable in words. His jaw hits your porch.

“You look-,” he’s flattered you wore the dress, “God, you’re beautiful. How did I get so lucky?”

It is your turn to blush. To forget who’s behind you inside. Little do you know her ear is to the front door listening to the hooligans on her porch. They’re whispering about her!

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you acknowledge, but the scuffling behind the closed door brings you back to reality. “Er- the dance?”

“Right,” he swings his arm out to show off his mom’s station wagon, “my mom lent me her car tonight.”

“Oh, wow,” you’re both impressed, and terrified that your mother is planning her great escape.

That she is. One more word comes through her head that her kid is conspiring against her. She’s being sold out!

Swinging open the front door, she knocks into open archway. At least she doesn’t have a bottle of liquor anymore. Unless, that means your mom has finished that one too.

“Mom,” you plead, “it’s fine - go back inside.”

She assesses. Gareth is in a suit, but he’s too young to be a government spy. So, she accepts that he’s here for one thing. An exchange.

“Who are you?” The words come out in a slur that almost sounds animatronic. This is the most she’s spoken since coming home. It’s hoarse. That could be the alcohol. “Are you handsomely paid?”

Gareth’s face has fallen.

“Mommy,” you beg, “go back inside. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Her laugh is soaked in alcohol. “Please. You’re on your way to getting bred and dumped like me. Trust me - having a kid is the worst thing you could do.”

It’s clear to you now that she’s completely unaware who she is talking too, or has been talking too the whole time she’s been home. That’s why you’ve kept yourself locked in your room fearing she may forget you’re home, and mistake you for an intruder.

Still, the punch to the gut doesn’t hurt any less. Not only are you miserably unloved by the one person you know by blood, but your boyfriend stands mere steps away from you watching the whole exchange. You wouldn’t be surprised if Gareth turns to run.

This is the final act from your mother tonight. She swirls around on her heel, before retiring into the blackness of her bedroom. It’s safe when you hear her bedroom close.

“My purse,” you excuse yourself from Gareth a moment to tip-toe back into the trailer for your bag on the kitchen counter. Only five dollars is left in there. You should have known she would take it.

Gareth stays quiet - studying his shoes. You’ve never invited him over to your house before. Sure, he’s been around the neighborhood. Not when your mother is home. Things begin to make more sense about where she’s been on these “work trips” you’ve told him about.

“Let’s go,” you lock the door behind you.

The car ride is quiet, aside from the radio playing music that you’re unfamiliar with. His mom’s favorite stations, perhaps. You’re not sure if he’s waiting for you to cry or something. Confessing your mom is a drunk - or a pill popper - or a prostitute - yeah, that isn’t exactly on your agenda.

You don’t notice, but you’ve made it to the school. The building looks so different at night. It’s not as intimidating without all the expectations written on chalkboards, or the smell of the pages of used textbooks. Tonight the only area well-lit is the gymnasium. A girl’s laugh echos that brings you back to where you are. Earth.

Gareth’s eyes bore into you. All of these questions that he has, but he won’t ask. You won’t tell him until you’re ready anyway. The time comes sooner than later anyway.

“My mom is nice,” were you telling him that, or yourself? “She bakes. Well, she used too.”

Pause.

“My grandma was nice,” you pick your head up at this. “She baked too. She used too.”

Tears threaten to fall down your face, but Gareth catches each one before they ruin your makeup completely. You let Gareth just hold you right then. In the middle of the parking lot like no one else is around because no one matters more to him than you right then.

“She’s been home for three days,” you sniffle, “it doesn’t even feel like she’s really home.”

“Like she’s a ghost,” he traces shapes against your skin.

“Ugh, my makeup,” a silly little thing to worry about right now. But alas, you sit up to fix the mascara threatening to run down your face. “I’m sorry, Gareth.”

“Hey,” he takes your hand in his to draw your attention back to him. Easily, he slots his lips against yours. Once, twice, three times. Wet kisses. “You have nothing to apologize for. If you want to get out of here and just drive - say the word.”

The idea wasn’t bad. Getting out. Feeling the wind in your hair. Going somewhere far away. It wouldn’t work. You would have to come home in the end.

“No,” you breathe across his mouth. “Let’s dance.”

That is what you do. The whole evening. After clearing your eyes, and turning your brain off, you have a really fantastic time with Gareth. You even convince him to take photos with you in the Photo Booth.

A few dances in, and both you and Gareth find a rhythm to dance too. The rhythm might not have been the same one that everyone else was dancing too, but nonetheless you’re having a great time.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” your bladder is getting to the best of you. “Can you get me a glass of punch?”

“Sure,” Gareth could also use a break from the dance floor. He’s moving with two left feet!

The bathroom clears out as you come in. By the time you’ve finished in the stall, the only person left in the room with you is Chrissy Cunningham. The sweetheart you’ve grown to be fond of outside of her massive jerk of a boyfriend.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” she’s powdering her face over the sink. A floral scent wafts around her. She must have just applied a generous amount of perfume. “But, you and Gareth look like you’re having fun.”

Oh, Gareth! Even just saying his name brings your heart to a flutter!

“Uhm,” you can’t help, but break into a grin the size of Texas, “yes! Chrissy, he’s the nicest guy. Not to mention how ridiculously handsome he is.”

“You know what, he does clean up nice,” she plucks at her bangs dangling in front of her face. “Those so-called Freaks are surprising in more ways than one.”

“What?”

“Well, Jason’s waiting for me,” she tells you, “we should totally go on a double date. That way we can catch up!”

Ah, Chrissy. She can never be anywhere alone for too long without Jason. But, maybe the offer isn’t far out there. It could be the start of a truce between the boys.

“I’ll talk to Gareth,” you can promise her that. “Have fun! You look so pretty by the way.”

“You too!”

When you’re done powdering your nose, you find Gareth nursing a cup of punch at an empty table. No one wants to be near the Freaks. Boy, you haven’t realized how tired you are of hearing how badly the boys get picked on around here. They play a fantasy game, and listen to different music so that makes them completely undesirable? That gives this miserable school a reason to outcast them all?

“Hey,” Gareth holds up an extra glass of punch for you, “having fun, tonight?”

“I really am,” you sip the drink.

Gareth taps the table with his pointer finger. There’s something on his mind that he isn’t telling you. You’ve been together for nearly half a year, and his tells are already becoming more obvious to you. He knows this as well as you do.

“I’m really sorry if what I’m about to say is overstepping,” that’s not the best way to begin, “I found a phone, while you were in the bathroom. I booked us a motel room - I booked you a room.”

You must have heard him wrong, “sorry?”

“I know how hard it is to have a family member act like that, but living with her can’t be easy,” he tries to put as delicately as possible. “After you’ve been having so much fun tonight, I thought maybe you could use a break. I can drop you off and pick you up if you want. Or, you can tell me this idea was dumb. Whatever-,”

Stopping Gareth in his everlasting ramble, you reach over and plant a kiss to his lips holding onto the lapel of his suit jacket. His lips soften against yours.

“I love you.”

The words slip off your tongue, as you hold him there. You’re the only two people in the crowded gymnasium. Blush pink lights bounce off of his and your hair.

It’s funny how a single moment can rewrite the history and the time of your relationship. All of those moments he spent arguing with Eddie about why you had to be there at their band practice. You were - you are a complete distraction. Bobbing your head up and down to the music, even though you just hear noise. The times you sit on your porch with your nose in a book. Those are the days he recalls begging with fate for you to even glance up with that cross-eyed stare that could melt him. Even your snarky comments couldn’t stop his heart from beating out of his chest for you.

Gareth couldn’t wait to take a bite of that forbidden fruit that was just out of reach. Out on a branch just a bit too high in the sky. But, here is his with you in his arms. Your words hold the key to validate the same feelings that he’s had for a long time. He’s sorry that he’s taken so long to recognize them.

“I love you too,” he hold either side of your face to kiss you.

This is different than the kisses before. Your heart locks to his. Moving as one, you lose yourself in the moment. Nothing else matters except the two of you. Here.

“Hey!” A chaperone hollers. “You can’t do that here!”

The couple does separate in a fit of laughter. Gareth is wearing your lipstick, as he waves off the teacher for interrupting. You pull his jaw back to face you, so that you can begin wiping at the lipstick across his bottom lip.

“Is it my color?” Gareth jokes.

You snort. “Totally.”

After a brief silence, you speak again;

“Do you want to get out of here?”

-> <-

It’s not the cleanest place ever. The motel that is. Understaffed. Underpaid. The clerk at the front appears exhausted, malnourished and far less concerned than one might be seeing two teenagers with a hotel reservation. That must happen a lot. It’s a small enough town that there are only a handful of motels, and none of them are as glamorous as the ones in the big city.

You toy with a fake potted plant that sheds dust when you tamper with its leaves. That’s one of many pieces that could use a fix. There’s a tear in the couch that’s supposed to warm people into staying here. You wonder what might have happened.

“One key is fine,” Gareth tells the front desk lady.

The woman waddles when she walks. Hiding out behind a desk and standing all day does things to you. When she returns, she has the single key to your very own room.

You’ve only spent time at a motel once or twice in your life. Both times were with your mother years ago. She went into the city for a couple of job interviews that fell through. Back then, it was just another job. She assured you there are always more opportunities waiting, and that was just not the right time.

“Check out is eleven tomorrow,” she drops the key into Gareth’s open palm, “we do charge if you’re late.”

“Thanks,” he replies, “have a good evening.”

Leading you through the front doors of the hotel into the evening air, Gareth gives you the key now. You hold the brassy thing in your palm. The engraving reads ‘201.’ So, you’ll be on the second floor and closer to the front desk office. That’s easy enough.

Gareth comes along with you to make sure the room is alright for you. He’s already ready to rain hellfire if anything isn’t up to your standard. But, it’s unlikely seeing that all you really want is a bit of peace and quiet from the world.

Twisting the key into the lock, you push the door forward. It opened. That’s a start. There’s a switch next to the door, so you’re not fumbling around like a moron in front of your date.

It’s simple. A queen-sized bed with a scratchy top sheet you could flick off if you want. There’s a table with a small chair close to the entrance that they consider a ‘dining nook.’ Also, a fat color television in front of the bed. Completely snug in the back is the bathroom. It’s clean, and free of mold, hair, or bugs.

Coming back around from your inspection, Gareth stands still outside of the hotel room.

“What are you still doing out there?” You hold out your hand. “Aren’t you coming in?”

Gareth wants too. He really does, but he still has his mom’s car. This is your retreat anyway. A night away with some peace and quiet. He doesn’t want to screw that up for you.

“My mom is waiting for me,” he tells you honestly. “I’ll come back in the morning and get you.”

“Gare,” the nickname soothes him. “It’s late. Call your mom and tell her that you’re staying at Eddie’s or something. I’m sure he’ll cover for you.”

Gareth snorts out a laugh. It’s silly how easy you can sway his better judgement. That by him not wanting to ruin your evening comes from more than just ‘he has to get home.’ So, he crosses that threshold into the motel room where you are.

Hot breath crosses your face, “are you sure you want me to stay?”

Your voice comes out at a whisper, “please. Please, stay.”

Gareth closes the room’s front door. The outside world is no longer either of your problems. You’re here with him. That’s all that matters.

You spring onto the bed next to him, after using one of the hotel’s wet wipes to rid yourself of your makeup as best you can. There’s a silly little hand lotion that will make up for any of your real lotions back at home. This could have been better thought out. Neither of you have a change of clothes.

“I’ll be home in the morning, mom,” Gareth speaks into the telephone sat on the bedside table. Taking your advice, he fibs that he’s exhausted from dancing all night and will just stay at Eddie’s trailer. “I love you too.”

“I wish my mom was as concerned about me,” you’re half joking when Gareth does hang up the phone, after his mom is done yapping his ear off about the evening. “Do you think she would even answer the phone if I called?”

Gareth unties his tie, and allows a bit of laughter to leak through. You’re taking this very well. So, it can’t be new - your mom’s behavior.

“Gare,” you lean into him, “could you tell me about her? Your grandma that is.”

Oh. Gareth doesn’t have a clear memory of her, before the day he really came to life with full thoughts and full feelings. This is his mother’s mother. She died a few years ago. One morning she got as intoxicated as she could, then left for the store for more beer in the middle of the night during the winter. She found a park bench to sleep on, and never woke up. The doctors said it was the weather that got her.

“I’d have to ask my mom,” he presses a kiss to your forehead as he sinks deeper into the mattress with you. “I think she really liked her. My mom turned out fine, you know. You will too.”

“Thank you,” you mutter into his chest.

For a moment, you lay there. Your breathing is slow. The rise and fall of your chest makes Gareth aware how exhausted you must be after these past few days. However, in the midst of Gareth trying to decipher how he could sleep sitting up straight, your eyes pull open.

“Gare,” you only sit up enough to brush your nose against his. His response is a hum, “kiss me.”

Gareth doesn’t need to be asked twice. Hot lips bathed in that sweetened fruit punch from earlier meet yours. You find your breath is just as shaky as his, and you brush your nose into his as you swing your leg across him settling yourself onto his lap.

Pushing away at the sleeves of Gareth’s jacket, he follows your lead. He would follow you anywhere. You put your hands at the buttons of his shirt, and Gareth’s heart begins to slam against his rib cage. He figures you want him to place his hands somewhere, but he’s a bundle of nerves just waiting to burst.

Placing your palm across his heart, Gareth covers your wrist with his hand and using his thumb he’s counting the number of beats in your heartbeat. It’s just like his.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want too,” there is a note of vulnerability in his tone.

You stop there a moment. Hand still across his chest. His heart beating ever so quickly. You love the soul that carries on next to this heart. The young man willing to give you the world if he could. You’re terrified of love. When love will run as far away from you as he can because you’re too much.

Gareth searches for something deep in your eyes. That you will finally allow yourself to be completely happy. You deserve this. To be truly happy.

There’s a spark in your eye. Your lids droop halfway across your iris.

“We don’t have to do anything you want too,” you say with your lips dangling in front of him.

Gareth meets your eye line, “I want too.”

“Me too.”

-> <-

[to be continued]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst @munsonburn3r @5tud10-54r4h @pvdulmol @loveryanax @am0iur @naatggeo @chaoticgood-munson

[dawnbreaker-mylove]

Astra's Tool

Warnings: Implication of rape, child abuse, domestic violence, stalking (implied), power imbalance.

A/N: So... I wrote this... Before we start, I want to emphasize that this is fanfiction. I know this isn't canon, I'm not telling you to recognize it as canon. I wanted to write down my headcanon on Astra and Zayne and whatever relations they have. Don't ask me where I thought Zayne had a step-dad because I forgor. It was probably some Mandela effect or I read a headcanon on Dawnbreaker killing him somewhere back when I started playing the game. Reader's discretion is advised.

You asked Zayne where those marks on his arms came from. He would dodge the question every time with a joke or he'd change the subject. You decided not to pry too much, but your curiosity was never one to fade with time.

Today, you asked again.

“I've been meaning to ask. What happened to your arms? Were you just clumsy when we were kids or something?”

Zayne chuckled as his fingers trailed along the stacks or chocolate bars as you walked through the aisles of the grocery. “It could be that,” he picks up a bar of chocolate with raisins and nuts before placing it back, “but let's not think of things from the past. Instead, why don't you help me pick between almond or hazelnut chocolate for tonight, hm?”

He smiled, lighthearted and sweet like he always does. However, there's a glint of something in his eyes, just for a split second, before it disappears.

You were never one to pry. You both were dating for a while now but you both have your secrets. You respected that, of course. But this particular secret of his felt too important to simply forget. Like it was something you had to know.

Your gaze flickers towards the fridge. The metal doors were covered in colorful magnets from around the world, gifts from Zayne's parents. Then it hit you. If Zayne won't tell you, someone who knows him for years would answer your question.

His mother.

That evening, you called her. Once she picked up, her voice was as bubbly and warm as ever. “Hello, sweetheart,” she greets over some sitcom playing in the background. “What made you call? Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine, Auntie,” you replied. “I just wanted to ask something.” The woman in the other line was encouraging, eager to sate your curiosity. The moment you mentioned Zayne's scars on his arms, the laughter faded. Followed by a sound you least expected. A muffled sob.

“I should've taken him away,” her voice trembled. “He… it was my fault.”

Through her sobs, the past unraveled before you.

Years ago…

We all know one thing for certain: gods have a way of taking what they want. Mortals were no exception. To deities, mortals were nothing more than a piece of a chessboard, their purpose moved by the divine. Astra was no different.

Like a flower blooming in the snow, Astra sees her. The doctor, a woman of beauty and grace, eyes dark and intelligent. He intended to make her his.

For a year, the god watched from the heavens, studying the doctor. He learns she was soft-hearted, the type to reach out to the lonely or to engage with helpless strangers. It was easy to take on a mortal guise, to be the kind of man she could fall for. And she did.

The doctor thought she had met the love of her life. The god thought he had won.

Another year passed, and she was happy. Until one December night, when the snow fell heavily on the city, Astra revealed what he truly wanted.

She tried fighting, but a mortal can never stand a chance against a god. He pinned her down, a cruel smile played on his lips as he whispered to her that the child she would bear would be the greatest gift of all.

She could never forget the look in his eyes that night. It glimmered but not with love or devotion, but with possession.

On the fifth of September, the doctor gave birth to a boy. His father held him in his divine hands, looking down at the baby with his cold gaze. The god named him Zayne.

The doctor wanted to believe, even just a little, that Astra might love the boy. That Zayne could be raised in warmth, not under the god’s watchful eye. But it was when he turned three, the ice came.

The child’s Evol manifested early, and Astra had waited for so long for that day to come. Training had to begin immediately. Every failure was met with punishment. Anytime Zayne's control faltered, Astra would take his wrists and let the ice spread over his arms and let it pierce through his skin like glass.

The doctor would hear Zayne’s cries echo through their home, but there was nothing she could do. Astra's word was law. A mortal could never go against a god.

Until the night she ran.

Zayne was four when his mother carried him in her arms and fled from the clutches of their abuser. But she was unsure if Astra would come for them. She didn't know if he could be outrun.

But she ran anyway. As far as they possibly could.

They built a new life in another city. An apartment for two, a quiet existence. But Astra never truly left.

Nightmares would haunt the young boy. Visions of a faceless man watching from the darkness. He would whisper to Zayne in his sleep. Followed by the ice. He would wake up, screaming in pain as the ice, sharp and jagged, pierce through his skin as they emerged again and again. His mother would hold him as the night filled with his screams of anguish, whispering soothing words and assurance she only half-believed.

The doctor thought she could never give Zayne a normal life. That was before she met the surgeon.

A cardiac surgeon visiting her hospital, tall and lean. She told herself she would never let anyone in again, she would never risk her life and Zayne's again, but then the boy met him.

Zayne, who rarely smiled or laughed, beamed when the surgeon scooped him up into his arms. The two would play and eat mints on a bench in the park. Watching all this, the doctor cried. But they were not sad tears. Tears of relief, of joy, streamed down her cheeks.

It wasn't long before they married. The surgeon gave Zayne his last name: Li. He did it without a second thought, without asking anything in return. Zayne finally has someone he can truly call his father.

Present day…

The call ended and you were left stunned. Your hands trembled as you curled into a ball on the couch. Zayne found you like that.

Without a word, he sat beside you and rested his hand on your back. His warmth was comforting but your chest still felt tight. Your eyes, swollen, flickered to his arms

“I'm sorry,” you whispered. Zayne frowns, lifting your chin up between his thumb and index finger. “For what?”

“For snooping around. For everything.”

You explained in between sobs. The things his mother told you. The things he never found the courage to tell you. Zayne's jaw slightly clenched, his fingers tensed, but his smile didn't waver.

“Enough with the tears,” he whispers as he strokes your hair. “That's all in the past.”

You look up at him, baffled. “You can't just forget something like that.”

His smile faltered slightly. Zayne shook his head and cupped your cheeks gently, wiping the tears from your cheeks before kissing your eyelids.

“What's in the past should stay in the past. I'm fine now, aren't I?”

You sniffled, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. “Why are you comforting me?” You grumbled. “I should be the one comforting you.”

A soft laugh escapes from Zayne's lips, brushing a stray lock from your face before lightly tapping your nose. “For starters, it's because I never heard of someone crying while trying to comfort the person who isn't.”

His voice was too light. Like if he acknowledged it—truly acknowledged it—he might break.

Now you were unsure of who he was comforting, you or himself.

You wrapped your arms around him, holding Zayne closed as humanly possible. You were scared to let go or loosen your grip, as if he would disappear if you did. Zayne only hugs back just as tight, kissing your hair then burying his face in the crook of your neck.

Above the clouds, beyond the falling snow, He watched.

Astra sat on his mighty throne, his gaze locked on the boy. His face that was often twisted in anger, was unreadable.

He had seen this play out before. His Foreseer, falling in love once again with the same mortal that proved to be his downfall in the past. He will not let it happen again.

He would wait. Time was irrelevant to a god.

In the end, what's his will always return to him.

[sugarcubeindulgent]

it looks like you've already gotten a lot of requests for this one, BUT I'm just letting you know I am anxiously and happily waiting for a one shot/fic of Josh getting breastfed as he DESERVES. I need to spoil and baby this man and let him indulge in his most shameful kinks, UGHHHH I'm so excited to see what you come up with IF you end up writing it out for our crazy asses. THANK YOU in advance, love ur work pookie!!!

synopsis. you always have such a nurturing touch with your boyfriend.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ contents. explicit content. mommy kink. ageplay(?). breastfeeding. lactation. handjob. edging. begging.

a/n: SO MANY and i mean SO MANY people requested this 😭 i hope it measures up for all of you, thank you for the requests!

Grunting softly, Josh gasped and he nearly sobbed out when your hand pulled away from his slick, thick cock. It pulsates, twitching and throbbing while your eyes flickered along his features twisted in desperate pleasure. There’s some fog gathering along the bottom edge of his glasses hung low on his big nose, his flushed and red cheeks so hot against the lens cold by the air. Josh grunted and he swallowed hard, his head dipped back and his eyes screwed shut as he shook his head desperately but all you could do was admire him. Positioned on his lap, his cock between your clothed abdomen and his round stomach, you wipe your hand off on your skirt's hem and tut softly. Josh slowly dipped his chin back down to look at you, his eyes half-lidded and shedding tears.

“Oh…poor baby.”,you cooed softly as you reached out with your slick hands. Your saliva and his pre-cum smear on his cheeks you hold in your palms. Tilting your head and raising your eyebrows, you sighed softly with a faux frown and shook your head. “I’m so sorry, Mommy’s hand slipped. Were you gonna cum?”,you asked, voice honeyed and dripping in faux concern and sympathy. Josh panted heavily, he leaned into your touch as you wiped his tears away.

“P-Please, Mommy…”,rasped Josh, his head tilted as you pulled away your hands. You looked at him, throbbing between your thighs as you gave him your attention with your hands on his chest. He shook his head desperately and swallowed hard while more tears shed along his flushed and glistening cheeks. “I’ve been so good for–for you – I – I was between your thighs and I haven’t cum at all–” And he grunted, he gasped with dark eyes rolling back when you grabbed his cock with one slick hand. “O-Oh M-Mommy…”,he moaned, his hands fisted into the bedding and his head tipped back again. Soft brown locks fell in waves down his shoulders.

You smiled and tilted your head, stroking his cock – up, down – then circling your palm against his sensitive cockhead. “You’re right, baby. You’ve been such a good boy for Mommy so I’m going to be nice and do you know why?”,you sweetly asked him, tilting your head. Josh swallowed hard he nodded eagerly, his fat jiggling a bit in a way that made him look all the softer as he met your eyes.

“B-Because – a-nngh – because good boys de-deserve – m-mommy – nice things.”,Josh answered, choking over moans and whines as he does his best to remain still for you. Those glassy eyes looked at you through slightly fogged glasses. He was waiting for your next word as you kept your pace smooth and rhythmic enough to continue to edge his cock already an angry red at the tip from lack of relief.

“Are you hungry, sweet boy?”

Immediately, his eyes shot wide open and he inhaled sharply. Those tear-shed eyes looked along your smiling face down to your chest hidden by one of his shirts. Then he looked at your face again and nodded eagerly. “M-Mm yes, Mommy. ‘m so hungry, please? Please?”,he begged breathlessly, trying his best to be calm and relaxed about the offer that made his cock jump in your stroking grip. When you pulled away your hand and nodded, he didn’t gasp or whine when he knew what was going to come next. You grabbed the hem of the shirt and you laughed softly, the noise filling his bedroom.

“Come on, sweet boy. Get your fill.”,you said once you tossed the shirt aside. Josh marveled at your tits as if it was the first time he was seeing them again. Then again he had passed out that time. You smiled before you gasped when he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you close, his cock between his soft stomach and your skirt bunched up at the tops of your thighs.

Josh immediately latched onto one of your nipples and you sighed in relief, feeling the heavy soreness taken away by his hot and warm mouth suckling eagerly. You gently cradled the back of his head with one hand, fingers threaded into soft brown hair. “Mmf…th-thank you, Mommy.”,he moaned around your nipple, some milk leaking out from the corners of his lips to drip down onto his stomach. You inhaled softly and nodded, your other hand fell down to stroke his cock beneath his fat stomach as your sensitive nipples were lavished by his mouth then his kneading hand.

“F-Fuck…just like that…y-you’re so eager, poor baby was so hungry…”,you moaned, tilting your head back and arching your back into him as you stroked his pulsing cock. “Making Mommy feel so good…my needy little boy…”

He moaned around your nipple, his eyes shut and glasses crooked as he drank the milk courtesy of some over the counter pills. Nodding eagerly, he looked up at you with those glassy eyes and you looked down at him with a smile. His eyes crossed before they shut as he pulled off with a wet pop! Josh panted heavily and he swallowed the mouthful of milk he had before he quickly latched onto the other and his hand groped the one he’d just suckled on. You moaned and jerked him quicker when his thumb brushed over your hypersensitive, wet nipple. Cold air against the hot areola made you shudder.

Arousal and need burned in you, your hand moved quicker and he started to bite. You gasped, hissed at the sharp pain but made no effort to pull him off by his hair. As his teeth pinched the sensitive nipple, you moaned and your palm slicked along his slit. “M-M-Mommy ‘m…I n-need t-to…”,Josh gasped and spoke around your nipple, you felt warm milk spill down and roll down his belly before it coated your hand. You nodded and you gripped his hair a bit tightly to pull him back as you quickened your fist around his cock.

“You have to use your words for me, sweet boy. Can you do that for Mommy?”,you asked. Josh was a mess, his hands gripped your hips and his entire face looked fucked out and desperate after not being allowed to cum for three hours. “I can understand you if you’re not using your big boy words…”

He swallowed hard and he nodded, you begin to thumb his slit while your other hand dipped down and fondled his balls wet with spit. “O-Oh m-my–” Josh moaned and his eyes rolled back, you hummed softly in satisfaction as he had to force his chin back downwards to look at you. “M-Mommy please! Please Mommy, let me cum please I-I need, Mommy’s sweet boy n-needs hnng–f–mmf…pleasepleaseplease…” Nodding, you jerked his thick cock, wet noises filling the air.

“Cum for Mommy, baby.”

Josh immediately leaned down and caught one of your nipples in his mouth. Sucking, he moaned around the sensitive bud and you felt his entire body shake and quiver. “M-Mommy!”,he whined and gasped, refusing to let go of your nipple while his cum shot out. You inhaled softly in satisfaction, feeling his hot and thick load that had built up. Cum shot up against your abdomen, it caught his belly and dripped down while remnants slicked along your knuckles and fingers. A soft laugh left your lips as he rode out his orgasm on your nipple, moaning and groaning like a desperate toy.

“There we go…such a good boy…”,you muttered, kissing the top of his head.

The brunette pulled off and choked in a breath of air, he nodded weakly as you pulled your hand away and he dropped his forehead to your sternum. His glasses dug into your skin a bit, some of his forehead sweat smeared on your warm skin.

“Thank you…s’much, Mommy.”

[desperaterebelrunaway]

The first time I saw the tv glow, I couldn't have been more than six years old

I didn't quite understand the feeling, but I knew I was different

My cousins and I played house, and they wanted me to be the big sister, but that didn't feel right to me

"But I'm a boy," I said, calm as could be

This sent my little cousin into a crying fit, where she ran upstairs and told my aunt what I had said

I was scolded by my aunt and grandma and told to never say those words again, so I didn't

The next time I saw the tv glow, I was twelve years old

I saw Cher's son on tv, talking about his transition

I told my mom that summer that I thought I might be like him, so we gave my wardrobe a makeover and tried on new names

When school started that fall, I got called a dyke, a tranny, and a fag

I'd lost all my friends, so I became Her again

The tv would glow more throughout my teenage years, more consistently and more frequently than before

The ever growing social media gave me access to things I had only dreamed of before

My mother took me to the doctor, to the therapist, and tried all my new names

She said she'd always love me, that would never change

I would go on to keep running, afraid of my true self

Every time I stuck my foot out of the closet, I just fell

Then one day when I was twenty one

My mom and I watched a film, I Saw The TV Glow

And finally, I had a way to describe this feeling to others

When the movie was over, I quietly said

"You know, I have to bury her alive. It's hard"

And my mother, without missing a beat, replied

"She'll suffocate, but won't it finally be nice to stop running from him?"

I thought it was such a nice sentiment

So I buried that girl alive, though I still hold her dear to my heart

She tried so hard to be right, but we were always meant to part

Now I stand in the light, letting him show his glory

And I'm here now, telling you my story

So as the movie says, and I'll tell you too

My friends, there is still time

You can always choose to be you.

Another piece inspired by I Saw The TV Glow, this one I've been working on since the other day, when I initially saw the film. Basically, my mother has always been my biggest supporter, even when I don't always support myself. She's always encouraged me to be myself, and we had a long conversation after this movie, only a snippet of which I included. I finally decided it was time to stop running from myself.

[merrybloomwrites]

I Can't See, Two Feet in Front of Me

Summary: When a technical issue during a show leads to you getting injured, Liam is there to help you feel better.

Word Count: 1,661

CW: injury, blood

AN: Thank you to @puzio19 for this idea! After the Grammys last night I really needed to write for Liam. The memorial moment truly gutted me.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Touring as a member of One Direction is one of your favorite things in the world. The energy of the crowd, the noise of them all singing along as you sing and entertain with the five boys, nothing can match that. 

It’s fun to see the different stage setups you do each leg of tour, and it’s especially fun when you guys get to do something a little out of the box. The elevated platform that would literally hang in the air was your favorite so far.

For this run of shows, you’re utilizing lifts with trap doors. Each of you has your own spot, and the six of you rise from beneath the stage at the start of the show. It was always magical to go from the rather clinical underground area, to slowly seeing the arena filled with fans. Nothing got your adrenaline pumping faster. 

Tonight’s show is no different, and you feel on top of the world through the first few songs. And then it all comes crashing down.

Literally.

You’re moving across the stage, looking out at the crowd, so you don’t notice the open trap door. It shouldn't be open, there’s no reason for it to be, but yet it is.

Suddenly you’re falling, confused by the lack of floor. Your leg scrapes against the opening, and you hit your back as you go through the hole. It’s not a super long drop, as the lift is only halfway down. But the fall is so unexpected that you don’t have time to brace yourself. 

This all happens so fast, and you’re in shock, but quickly shake out of it. Afterall, the show must go on, and you don’t seem to be badly injured. 

Liam is closest to you, and the only one of your bandmates who saw the incident. He rushes over to you and helps you get back onto the stage. Luckily the song has just ended, and Harry is talking to the crowd and amping them up, still unaware of what happened. Louis and Niall notice that something is up, and come to see what’s going on.

“What happened?” Louis asks.

“There was a stage malfunction,” you say.

“Trap door was open and she fell right through,” Liam explains. “Go get checked by the medics, that was a nasty fall.”

“It’s really not that bad,” you reply.

“Y/N, your leg is bleeding,” Niall points out. 

You look down and sure enough, blood is dripping down your leg.

“Go, we’ll cover you for a couple songs,” Liam says, his hand moving to rub your shoulder in a comforting manner. 

Niall walks over to Zayn and Harry to fill them in on what happened, and you make your way backstage. 

Maggie, your favorite medic, checks you over. 

“Your back is probably going to bruise and you’ll be sore for a couple of days, but otherwise that will be fine,” she informs you. She then focuses on your leg, and you try not to wince as she cleans it up. 

“It’s not bad, mostly just scraped but this one part is a bit deep so that’s why it looked like so much blood. I’ll wrap it in some bandages and you’ll be good to go. Just check in again after the show.”

She works quickly and you listen to the boys still performing. They sound great, and they take turns filling in for your parts. You hate not being out there with them, even just for a few minutes. When Maggie finishes, you thank her and run back to the stage. You’re definitely sore, but you try to ignore it and get back to what you love doing.

“She’s back!” Niall announces as he sees you walk towards them.

The audience erupts in cheers and you smile, thanking them and saying, “I’m good, just a couple scratches! So, where are we?”

You easily join back in, you are a professional afterall. But you can’t deny the fact that it’s harder than usual to jump around and perform. Your leg hurts, your back hurts, and you just hope no one notices that you’re in pain.

Looking around the crowd, everyone seems to be having a great time. Your bandmates also seem to believe you when you say you’re fine. All of them except Liam. He’s watching you closely, and he sees the way you occasionally flinch or limp. You see his worried eyes, but always reply with a smile to let him know you’re okay. 

During the final song you realize that you’ll have to use the lift to go back under the stage after the show ends. You start to panic a bit, scared that there will be another technical issue. You try not to think of the worst case scenarios in order to finish the concert, but as your lift starts to descend, it’s taking everything in you not to start panicking. 

Nothing happens, and you safely arrive under the stage, but you can’t shake the anxiety. The boys all come over to you, wanting to finally ask how you’re really doing. 

“Give her some air,” Liam says, and you're grateful. You love the boys, but you’re trying to stop a panic attack, and being crowded by them isn’t helpful. Everyone back off and you get your breathing under control.

“I’m okay,” you finally say. “My back hurts, and my leg is really sore. But I’m honestly fine. I need to go find Maggie, she wants to check on me before we leave.”

“I’ll go with you,” Liam says, and you’re happy to have his company. All of the boys are kind, and caring, but right now, Liam is the one you want with you. 

Maggie looks you over and declares you’re good to go. She gives you a stack of clean bandages and instructions on when and how to change them and tells you what she recommends for the back pain. 

With that settled, you head back to the bus. You’re more tired than usual, and quickly wash your face and brush your teeth. Getting dressed is difficult, and you don’t want anything tight to your body. So you sneakily grab some of the boy's clothes, ending up with Harry’s t-shirt, Liam’s sweatshirt, and Zayn’s sweatpants. 

You gingerly get changed, gasping in pain when you turn too far, and then burrow under the covers in your bunk. 

Falling asleep is easy, but staying asleep is another story. Just a couple hours into the night the bus travels down a bumpy road, and the movement wakes you. The jostling causes you to hit your back and you cry out in pain. 

“Y/N?” Liam asks from his bunk below yours. The rough road must have woken him up too.

“I’m fine,” you reply.

You hear shifting and then Liam is standing so he can talk to you face to face.

“You didn’t sound fine,” he states.

Being exhausted and in pain is not a good combination, so instead of brushing it off like you normally would, you reply, “My back really hurts.”

He looks at you sympathetically. “Why don’t you take the big bed in the lounge? That might be more comfortable.”

It’s a good idea, so without arguing you climb down and head to the lounge, missing Liam’s soft smile when he sees you wearing his sweatshirt. As you’re settling in, Liam joins you, carrying an ice pack. He helps you place it just right, and the relief is immediate, though the ice makes you shiver. 

Liam steps away again, causing you to pout. But he’s back a moment later carrying the extra blanket off his bunk. He also has some snacks, water, and your favorite stuffed animal.

“Get some rest. If you need anything else just text me or come find me,” he says. 

He turns to leave and you call out to him. When he looks back you shyly ask, “Can you stay?”

“Of course I will, if you want me to.”

“I do want you to. Don’t want to be alone back here.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

He gets settled under the covers next to you, and you lay in silence for a little while. 

After about twenty minutes he says, “Let me take the ice pack back to the freezer so you can use it again later.”

He quickly does so and climbs back into bed. Feeling better, you quickly fall asleep once again. 

The next morning you wake up snuggled to Liam’s side. It’s nice, not having to sleep alone for once. He tries to apologize and pull away when he realizes your position, but you just shush him and keep him close. You know there are still a couple more hours on the road, so you don’t need to rush. Instead, the two of you enjoy this moment of connection.

Finally, you decide you need a shower. It's tough on the tour bus, but you manage. After dressing in another loose outfit, you head back to the lounge to rebandage your leg. Liam is still there, and noticing you struggle to get the right angle, he offers to help.

He carefully wraps your leg, then grabs the ice pack once more, insisting you use it for twenty minutes while he makes you breakfast.

As the two of you eat, you say, “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“Of course. I won’t lie, it was scary seeing you get hurt like that. Makes me feel a bit better to help you. Plus, I’d feel like a bad friend if I just left you to deal with it on your own when I can help.”

Instead of replying, you simply rest your head on his shoulder. He leans his head against yours, and the two of you sit there in companionable silence. 

You hate that this accident occurred while you were on stage doing what you love, but having Liam by your side makes it all feel better.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Thank you for reading, and I hope you all are doing alright!

[alynnia]

After the 6th love interest is released...(Various LaDs ramblings)

Will the plot advance forward? I mean, I know it's doing that already little by little, but it feels more like introductions for the LIs while more questions arise. I doubt this game will ever have an actual ending, but will we get endings to various arcs, at least? Big finale events with boss fights along the lines of Ever president transforming into a monster, or fighting Astra himself if he isn't a love interest. Actually, no, let him be a love interest, AND we fight him.

In fact, I want to fight against the current love interests, too!

-Sylus dragon urges coming back up again, and he can't help himself from becoming a danger. So MC teams up with Xavier to fight him. This is a purposeful suicide mission by Sylus, and he wants MC to do a repeat of killing him again. But after MC and Xavier beat him, she instead uses her resonance evol or some McGuffin to fix him instead.

-Raf's God mode goes haywire and similar situation as a above except we team up with 6th LI (since he may be related to Raf in some way, as the current theories go) to fight and save him.

-Xavier going a little crazy from all this time jumping and his people coming to MC to stop him before he breaks something. Sylus teams up with MC to fight him.

-Zayne's condition turns him into actual Elsa in the way of accidentally freezing everything to the point it spreads all over Linkon. So MC teams up with Caleb to fight him. Maybe Dawnbreaker takes over Zayne or something idk

-Caleb...I honestly got no idea here until we see his next myth. Hoping he's either a fallen angel or snake but really I'm cool with anything monster-boy related. But yeah, we team up with Zayne to kick his ass too!

And after we've saved all the guys, then it comes down to a big team up all out war against the biggest enemy (maybe Astra)!

-Some other musings-

MC death and power: We know she has died in her past lives, but in this one, she's died over and over again as a child with her memories erased but becoming more powerful each time. This HAS to come up again as an adult, right? I can see this happening at the end of an Arc where she has to sacrifice herself to save everyone or sacrifice herself to prevent everything being destroyed by her power but comes back to life again with mo memories. Perhaps then, the memories we collected (the cards we got, the photos we take, the text messages and plushies we gathered) plays into the story as helping her remember these men.

Everyone is Astra: This is just an idea more than a theory of any kind but I was thinking about the possibility of all the LI's being pieces of Astra. (You ever see the movie 9? Something like that) Like, Astra being a God that fell for MC's soul but saw this love as a weakness so he tore out pieces of himself that loved her over and over again until there was none left. Those pieces of himself took shape as the LI's who DO get to interact with her and being part of a God they're all OP in their own ways with Raf likely being the biggest chunk since he's a god in his own right. Astra, now void of love can function "properly" as a god but MC and her bullshit still stands in his way somehow.

I just got this scene bouncing around in my head of all the LI's rejoining Astra and we get to see an amalgamation of them as one man for a short time before they all are split back up again.

I just want big, mind blowing action packed drama and the satisfaction of going " OOOHHH so THAT'S why X Y Z is happening! "

[my85volvo]

Hope it's cool if I start a little something from your prompt @renmackree. I don't really know Tumblr etiquette yet.

All it took was a few meager pieces of meat and bread, and the old god lived. The priest who roused him was a strange one. He was young and earnest in a way that could inspire both hope and a sense of protectiveness. How he stumbled upon the worn-down altar was a mystery. The once grand stone statues had been chipped away by rain and wind and ice long, long ago. The sacrificial platform was broken and buried beneath centuries of rotting leaves and forest life. It was a surprising wonder that this boy sat right in the middle of his dias and prayed.

"Please, please, please don't find me here," the boy whispered to himself. "I swear to god I will never let Scott set me up again."

The oath was made. Now all that was needed was a sacrifice to seal the bond.

The boy unhooked his knapsack from his back and rummaged through it to find a bottle of water. He took a generous swig, letting a few drops escape and slide down his chin. Wiping his mouth gracelessly, he grabbed another item from the sack and began to peel off the outer layer. In less than a minute, half the morsel was gone, and the boy took another long sip of water to wash it down. Just before he started eating the second half, a twig snapped somewhere to the east. The boy whipped his head toward the sound and froze.

"Stiles?" A voice called from the distance. "I was just kidding, okay? Stiles?"

The boy took action fast. In his haste to grab his knapsack and stand, his small meal fell to the ground--right at the foot of the old god's alter. The offering was modest but true: made with no malice or selfishness, and given freely from his own hand.

It was like taking a deep breath of fresh air--he was alive again. The True Forest Guard, the Wolf of the Wood, the Red-Eyed Demon. He had gone by many names, but he preferred the one his mother had given him: Derek.

He was slow to rise after spending so long sleeping in the space between life and death. It took 3 days to push through the veil while his body was remade from the earth. It was just as he remembered it--strong and tall and virile. He grew more alert as his priest prayed, which was surprisingly quite often, and used that time to survey his domain. Many more villages had been born, some with altars that reached impressively far into the sky. The humans had harnessed the elements to create beautiful and horrible things. But their essence hadn't changed. They still wished for love and sex and money and revenge, just like always.

When he finally set foot on solid ground, the forest was chilly but teeming with life. Excitement was not becoming of a 10,000 year-old god, but Derek couldn't help it. This new priest was feisty and warm and good, and it had been so long since Derek had actually wanted a human in his circle. He had long grown tired of the zealots and devotees committing atrocities in his name, so when the last of his followers passed away, Derek was relieved. He could start fresh. The first step was to give a blessing to his new high priest.

Derek reached out along the bond between them and tugged, instantly popping into the boy's humble dwelling. A small bed was tucked into the corner of a cramped room, with a table and a chest of drawers on the opposite wall. Nearly every available surface, including the floor, was covered in books, loose parchment, and lightly dirtied garments. The boy was sleeping in an impossibly contorted angle, his body twisted and half falling over the edge of his mattress.

"Arise," Derek commanded.

A snore and a mumble escaped the boy as he continued to sleep.

"ARISE," said Derek, this time with much more force.

The boy jerked awake and tumbled to the floor, hitting his elbow against the hard ground and wincing in pain. Derek expected the priest to be overjoyed with the sight of Derek in front of him. Instead, he screamed, covered his eyes, and recoiled as if Derek's nude form offended him.

"Dude, what the fuck? Did Scott send you in here as a prank? Because while I love the package, I'm more of a let's-get-coffee-first kind of guy, you know?"

Why was the boy not happy? Did he not realize the magnitude of his position? Derek looked down at the mess of blankets surrounding the boy and scowled. It was mid day already, and his high priest was still in bed. Perhaps he just needed some inspiration from his new god. The child may not even know of his fortune yet.

"I come as the Wolf of the Wood reborn. Your oath was heard, and our bond was sealed. You will have the protection and favor granted to the high priests of the old gods. Bow, and receive your blessing." Derek puffed out his chest and lifted his chin, eager to have his new follower at his side.

The boy faced forward and looked at Derek with a mixture of disbelief and fear. This was not the reaction he was supposed to have.

"I'm calling campus security," he replied with determination.

"You would pit your simple guards against me?" Derek was confused, but he soon realized that the boy simply needed a show of strength. "Very well, I can easily defeat them in combat. Let us spill blood at my altar. Their sacrifice will give me strength."

The boy looked upon him in horror, undoubtedly impressed with his confidence. Derek waited for him to shout orders and summon the guard, but the boy just stared at him.

"Please don't hurt anyone," he said meekly. "Just tell me what you want."

Derek couldn't figure out why this priest was acting so strangely, like he was genuinely afraid of him.

"Boy, you are my high priest. Do you have any idea what that means? Tell me, what do you need to build your faith? A miracle? Riches? Virgins?"

"I need you to leave. And also put on some clothes."

A strange request, but easily done.

"Very well. I can bestow the blessing when I return tomorrow. Try not to die before then."

It looked like the boy was about to say something, but Derek vanished before he he had a chance to hear it.

Derek is the old god of the forest, forgotten and unworshiped for centuries. Towns were built around his forests and the alter where once offerings were laid has been overgrown. Derek believes himself to be lost and resigns to an endless slumber.

That is until a college kid stumbles on his alter and offers the large stone wolf a piece of his sandwich.

Now, awake and once more worshiped, the god must protect his new high priest Stiles at all cost. Which means blending into a world he knows nothing about. And going to college.

[seventh-district]

“Why’s he call you Darlin’?”

on my knees begging my brain to stop trying to associate this song with Sam

[mooooncalf]

Experiencing a yearning that only a lonely gay poet from 1850 England could understand.

[secondpersonpoetry]

hi! heard the released “Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call” (which i’ve seen you’ve heard live, if i’m not mistaken!!) this morning and i don’t know if there’s really a particular vibe/dynamic/ship hrpf-wise (personally haven’t yet been able to put my finger on it) that quite relates but the lyrics have been rotating in my head all day and i was wondering if you had any thoughts? hope you have a good one! <3

OH ANON HAVE I EVER SEEN IT LIVE!!! and the second that song came out i zoomed it straight into my fic playlist and unfortunately there are so many guys this could be. right now the one that's resonating is, of course, the golden boy and his haunted ghost themselves: mcstrome.

i am thinking about connor, specifically, after the stanley cup final. that game seven. how angry he was, how loud the silence when they told him he won the conn smythe. how close he's come before and again and again lost. there's nobody else to blame but himself. he's in the empty room and he knows why (1)

at!! your best!!! you were magic!!! oh, golden boy. connor the anointed, of course. at the very beginning of his career we always knew he was something special and who wouldn't have fallen in love with him? weren't all of us a little bit dylan strome in awe of the generational talent? we were all bathed in radiant light just by being in the vicinity (2)

don't even tell 'em that you know me breaks my heart (3). in terms of building a narrative i think i've said before there is a universe where connor/dylan were together before the draft and to protect both of them, dylan breaks up with him. connor says i love you and dylan says i don't. because he doesn't, you know? he loved connor. he loved davo. he can't be in love with connor mcdavid, first overall pick of the edmonton oilers. i'd rather be hurt forever than have to watch us try to make this work and destroy us.

and after connor mcdavid left the otters, dylan strome captained them to a memorial cup win. what a haunted home, eh? to be captain of the team you and your best friend were on, only now he's left you? don't call me to tell me about your rookie season with the oilers--we both know about your broken collarbone. don't call me to tell about becoming the youngest captain in franchise history when i stepped into the shoes of your captaincy here. don't call me. (4)

narratively: dylan's the one who broke connor's heart and his own but by god it wasn't easy. we both know what happened, you went first overall. please don't make this harder on me. please don't call.

this verse can be about the weight of dylan having to live up to connor's standards and always being measured by him. i would just like to bring up the connor stepping stone chart for absolutely no reason as well (5)

we are, at long last, at the potential future of now: dylan strome, happy, smiling, thriving on the washington capitals. connor, on the oilers. i'm not yours, dylan can say. haven't been for a long time. it took some time but i made this. please don't call and ruin this for me, stay out of my life. i don't want you or need you (6)

[p.s. this took a while because when i received this ask i was a) immediately possessed to write this verse by verse breakdown i had never thought of before and then b) immediately plagued by the idea of making you a little graphic (above the read more) and finally got to do it after banging out all the actual lyric thoughts two (?) weeks ago. emerging two and a half hours later from the fugue state of GIMP with 37 layers in this bad boy hope you enjoy!!!]

[latenightcravingz]

“You’re not gonna die. Let me save us.”

[chuluoyi]

✎ baby to the rescue

- gojo satoru x reader

in which gojo recruits your baby son to “save” you from a credit card salesman

genre: immense fluff !! baby gojo and dad!gojo shenanigans~

note: based on this and this reel. with this i hereby declare that anything past chapter 235 is null and void HAHA anyway, i truly want to post remarried empress au by this week but since 261 leaks hurt me so much, i need more fluff so have to postpone it to next week :') tagging @karikari19hikariiii <3

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Your husband Gojo Satoru... is handsome as hell, which means your baby son is also undeniably good-looking.

"Why do you pout at me?" Satoru poked his squirming baby's cheek while pursing his lips too. "C'mon, smile! That auntie is smiling at you!"

Everyone who passed by them in Shinjuku shopping district turned heads to admire him and his pumpkin just a little longer, and Satoru visibly enjoyed the attention. He smiled back at them, occasionally winking even.

If only they knew how pretty his wife was too...

Wait, no! On second thought, if they know how hot you are, there will be problems!

You had left him to go to the nearest pharmacy to restock some things, while Satoru decided to entertain his baby in the toy section. He basked in the starry-eyed looks people were giving him... until he heard some strange sounds and turned to his baby boy—

—who was chewing the beak of a duck toy with all his might. Satoru was mortified.

"—! Let that go! Your mama will beat me if she sees you eating this!"

Your baby paid him no mind though, desperately pushing the duck into his mouth. Satoru sat him on one of the empty racks and began the tug of war—

"Let go!" he reprimanded. "You're so naughty, gods—!"

Some people were now openly giggling at both of them. His son tried to resist by rolling, and Satoru clicked his tongue. He then yanked the toy away until his baby finally let it go, sniffling sadly that his papa wouldn't let him have the duck.

"Oh, you..." he picked him up again and consoled the pumpkin. "You can't do that, you hear? First, it's not clean. Second, mama will grow two heads to chew you and me both, understand?"

No, your son totally didn't understand a thing. Satoru sighed, seeing his little blue eyes welling up with tears. He ruffled his head and pulled him close. "There, there... I'll get you ice cream, okay? Now let's go."

Satoru was determined to turn his son back into a smiling, happy baby. But just as he was about to head towards the ice cream parlor, he encountered the most unbelievable sight—

"Miss! I guarantee you'll love this credit card features!"

You. That was clearly you, and a salesman (or a bozo, in Satoru's eyes) was trying to bother you.

You raised an eyebrow. "Uh, no— thank you—"

Yet the bozo was still persistent, like the pesky fly he was. "You can use it to pay for your monthly beauty treatments! Someone as pretty as you..." He eyed you from head to toe, blinking suggestively. "Oh my! Your skin is flawless! You have to maintain it this way! I can also give you recommendations for—"

You were wearing a flare dress that made you look so young and petite, and obviously, Satoru too was lusting after you. And true, your skin was smooth like a soft serve of mochi, but still!

You are meant for him and his eyes only! Oho, this bozo would get heavenly punishment.

He had to get to you somehow, but this was public space and if he cooked up some sort of shenanigan, you would put him in sex ban. I can't have that! so Satoru wracked his brain to think of another way...

Once again, his gaze fell on his now calm baby, who was also looking at his mama over there with utter curiosity. And an idea immediately popped up in his mind.

"Hey, kiddo, look at that, a bad man is trying to take your mama," Satoru nudged him as if trying to egg him on. "We can't let that happen. Will you help me to save her, hmm?"

"Mama..." your baby looked back at him so innocently before smiling. "Mamaaa!"

"Good boy." Gods, his baby was so adorable, he almost felt bad for doing this but...

Swallowing his guilt, thinking he would make it up later, he pinched his son's butt a little too firmly—

"WAAAA!" and suddenly, the little boy burst into tears, and even Satoru was surprised by the sheer volume of his wail.

The sudden inconsolable sound of your baby sent you scrambling in panic, your eyes wildly searching for him, completely disregarding the credit card man. "My baby!"

"Eh?" the credit card man was visibly surprised. "Oh... so, you're married...?"

You immediately made your way towards Satoru and snatched your baby from him, hugging him tightly. "Oh, there, there... What happened to you?" you shot your husband a distaste look as your son kept wailing. "Satoru, why is he crying?"

He nonchalantly shrugged. "Maybe missing his mama? Dunno~"

By now, you had completely forgotten the credit card bozo, but he still looked at the three of you in mild surprise. Satoru took this chance to approach him and whisper in his ear:

"You see, my wife doesn't need your credit card," he whistled. "My cards or lumpsum money will do more than enough."

After seeing how pale the bozo looked, Satoru chuckled darkly... before leading you and your son away from the crowd, with one arm possessively around your waist.

Epilogue

"I'm sorry— I'm sorry, okay!?"

Satoru looked down at his son in utter hopelessness, as the little boy refused to be held by him, looking at him with teary, resentful eyes, and backing away from him in his playpen.

Can babies hold a grudge? Satoru didn't know, but his son definitely was not happy with him, and he couldn't think of any other explanation other than his sin against him back this afternoon.

"I've bought you mochi ice cream!" he opened his palm to reveal the treat. "Don't you want some? Papa will give you some, yeah?"

Baby looked skeptical now, and at that moment, he resembled you so much—accusing eyes, pursed lips, exactly like the expression you would pull when you were unsure of what Satoru might do next. He almost chuckled at the resemblance, feeling giddy.

"C'mon, forgive me, yeah?" he patted his son's little beanie and offered his hand for him to take, eyes crinkling in fondness. "Now, here comes your treat, come closer?"

Your baby crawled closer, seemingly accepting him, and Satoru was all smiles, until—

Whack!

It happened in a flash. He could have avoided it, but he was too taken aback. The pain exploded in his jaw, so intense that he grunted loudly.

"What the—?! You... you—! You kicked me— in the face!"