#this post is long as fuck but i promise he's in there

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 5

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter warnings: Sex. Minors DNI. Also, barely proofread, sorry for any mistakes!

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 3.8k

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: February 1, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Sorry it has taken me a while to get this part out. But I think you’ll like it. *fingers crossed* FULL TAGLIST TO FOLLOW. Sorry, I'm in a rush today. This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. 

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part 4.5 | Part Five | Masterlist

A fancy hotel takeout sits untouched on your kitchen counter, the smell of roasted garlic filling the small space. You glance at the clock—6:47 PM.

Yoongi promised to take you to dinner, but given the circumstances, a quiet night in felt more appropriate. Safer for him. After all, the media has been relentless since the Dispatch scandal dropped close to midnight like Cinderella’s kitten heel at the ball.

You’re kind of pissed, actually. Scratch that—you’re furious. Just when it felt like you finally had Yoongi—finally had the chance to explore whatever this was between you—this bullshit had to rear its ugly head. A photo of his kind of ex leaving his building was enough to set the internet on fire, and now it felt like the flames were creeping dangerously close to your life.

You’ve talked to him once today, and even that conversation was clipped. A text from him at 5 let you know he was about to leave HYBE and swing by his place first. “Be there by 7,” he’d said.

You stare at the pristine takeout containers, willing yourself not to spiral. You’re not that person anymore. You’re not the insecure girl who lets her emotions run wild over things she can’t control. You’ve done too much good work to let this unravel you.

“You’re fine. You’re fucking fine,” you mutter under your breath, pacing the kitchen.

Your phone vibrates on the counter. Namjoon. Always coming to your rescue at the right time.

“Hello?”

“You doin’ okay?” Namjoon asks, his voice calm but laced with concern.

“Define okay,” you quip, though your voice wavers slightly. “It’s been a lot.”

“I figured,” Namjoon says gently. “That’s why I’m calling. Just wanted to check in. Yoongi’s been swamped today, and I know how this stuff can mess with your head.”

You exhale slowly, grateful for the concern but also acutely aware of the simmering emotions just beneath the surface. “I’m trying, Joon. Really, I am. It’s just… exhausting. The waiting, the overthinking, the noise. I just want to know where I stand with him, you know?”

“He’ll tell you,” Namjoon assures you, his voice steady. “Just… don’t let the noise get to you.”

You swallow hard, his words striking a chord. “Thanks, Joon. Really.”

“Anytime,” he says warmly. “And hey, take it easy on him tonight, okay? He’s under a lot of pressure, but trust me, you’re his priority.”

“Will do, dad,” you tease, and for the first time all day, you feel a flicker of lightness.

“Bye.”

You set the phone down, Namjoon’s words lingering in your mind as you glance at the clock again. 

You think about Yoongi and the kind of pressure he must be feeling now. You can take care of him tonight. He deserves it.

You’re rearranging the pillows on the couch, trying not to glance at the clock again for the hundredth time. It’s not even about tidying the place anymore. It’s about occupying your hands, distracting yourself from the swirling mix of emotions in your chest.

Then, the doorbell rings.

7:01pm. 

You take a breath, smoothing your sweater. Calm. Casual. You’re fine.

You open the door.

And there he is. Yoongi stands in the dim light of the hallway, a dark jacket zipped up to his collarbone, a black mask shading his face, somehow directing the focus on the exhaustion in his eyes. But what caught your attention is his hair—slicked back with a little sprout of inky locks on top.

He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly looking bashful at the heat in your gaze.

Christ. He looks good. Criminally.

He steps in. “Hi,” he says softly, his voice carrying that calm rasp you’ve missed.

Your heart clenches. “Hi,” you reply, your tone quieter than intended. You clear your throat, stepping back to let him in. “Come in.”

He steps inside, pausing in the entryway as he glances around. 

You then notice the bouquet in his hand—gorgeous white roses and baby’s breath wrapped in brown paper. 

He hesitates, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes flick over your face. Something in your expression must’ve softened, because he quickly averts his gaze.

“I brought these,” he says, holding them out a little awkwardly.

Your chest tightens, a strange warmth spreading through you. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

When you reach out to take the bouquet, your fingers graze his, and the contact lingers for just a second too long. Impulsively, your free hand rises to cup his cheek. Maybe it’s too much for whatever the hell this is between you, but the moment feels too honest to stop yourself.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

Yoongi freezes under your touch, his dark eyes widening ever so slightly. Then, as if the tension in his shoulders breaks all at once, he leans into your palm, just a fraction, and the smallest, most heartbreaking smile tugs at his lips as his eyes flutter close.

“I am now.”

You head to the kitchen, busying yourself with a vase to give the flowers the best chance to survive. You do not have a green thumb, so you pray to the gods the beautiful arrangement does not wither overnight.

“Hungry?” you ask, not turning around. “I bought chicken, shrimp fried rice, and some random banchan.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Yoongi replies, his voice closer than you expect. You glance back to find him leaning against the counter, watching you with an unreadable expression.

You place the vase on the counter and fold your arms. “So,” you start, forcing lightness into your tone. “Survived the day?”

“Barely,” he admits, a tired smirk tugging at his lips. “Had to dodge more cameras than usual. Sat in meetings for a couple of hours. Si-hyuk personally called Sung Kyung’s agency. They assured me that they will investigate thoroughly. I couldn’t eat. I get home and there’s still press camping out. So yeah, shit day and I almost didn’t make it out alive.”

“That’s the longest response I’ve ever gotten from you.” You tease. “You really must be stressed out.”

Yoongi chuckles and for a moment, it feels like the tension that’s been hanging over you both all day melts away. 

You go around the counter and stand facing him where he’s sitting on your bar stool. He parts his legs and you immediately take that space, crowding him a bit more by placing your hands tentatively on his shoulder.

His eyes, warm like molten chocolate, meet yours. “How about you?”

You hesitate, suddenly feeling a little exposed. “I’m fine,” you say, though the tightness in your chest betrays you. “I mean, it’s not like this is new territory for you, right?”

“Doesn’t mean it’s easy,” Yoongi says quietly. “And I don’t like that you’re sort of affected by it.”

“I can handle it,” you reply, trying to sound more confident than you feel, projecting strength since he looks a little broken right now.

Yoongi’s lips press into a thin line, like he’s not entirely convinced. 

“I kinda knew what I was getting into when I knocked in your studio yesterday,” you say softly. “And I’d do it again. For you.”

His eyes widen slightly, surprise flickering across his face at your admission before it softens into something else. Something deeper. “For me?”

You nod, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Yeah. For you.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, like he’s trying to figure out what to say. Then he straightens up from his slouch, taking one of your hands from his shoulder, pressing his lips softly against your pulse point.

“Dinner first,” he says. 

“Then what?” you challenge.

Yoongi just grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

As you sip the last of your drink, you steel yourself to ask the question that’s been bugging you all day. “So,” you say finally, broaching the topic. “Sung Kyung.”

Yoongi pauses mid-bite, his eyes flicking to yours. He sets his chopsticks down carefully, leaning back in his chair. “What about her?”

You take a steadying breath, forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. “Namjoon told me you’re co-parenting. But I need to hear where you two… stand?”

Yoongi exhales slowly. “Yeah, we’re co-parenting. That’s it. I don’t have any intention of getting back together with her. At all.” His voice is calm but firm, leaving no room for doubt. “I want Haneul to know his biological mom, but she and I—we’re done. That’s been over.”

Relief washes over you, but before you can fully settle into it, you notice the shift in his expression. His jaw tightens, and his eyes dart briefly to the table before returning to yours.

“There’s something else,” he says quietly, the words heavy with hesitation.

Fuck. You don’t like the sound of it, but you ask anyway. “What is it?”

Yoongi sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “A few weeks ago… she kissed me.”

Your stomach twists, and the room feels suddenly colder. “What?”

“I put a stop to it immediately,” he says quickly, his tone insistent. “I told her it couldn’t happen again, that if she wanted to keep seeing Han, she had to respect that boundary. And she has. She knows where we stand.”

You don’t respond right away, staring down at your plate as you try to process his words. 

Oh my god. This is so fucked up. You knew Sung Kyung’s reappearance wasn’t as harmless as it seemed, but hearing it confirmed still stings.

“I just thought…” you start, but the words trail off.

Yoongi’s voice is soft but steady. “You have every right to be upset.”

“Do I?” You think out loud. “We’re not…” You nod slowly, pushing your chair back. “I… need a minute.”

When you get to your bathroom, you release a long steadying breath. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, hands gripping the counter tightly. Fuck. You’re okay. This is–

A knock sounds at the door, startling you.

Yoongi’s voice is muffled as he says your name, but it’s gentle as can be. “Can I come in?”

You glance at the lock and realize, too late, that you forgot to turn it. The door creaks open, and there he is, standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of concern and something softer.

He steps inside, closing the door behind him and his arms immediately slide around your waist. The warmth of his touch seeps into you, and you meet his gaze through the mirror.

“Hey,” he murmurs against your hair. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You lean back against him, the tension in your shoulders easing but just slightly. “I just… I don’t know how to feel about it.”

“That’s fair,” he presses his lips to your temple. 

“But I need you to know–” presses another on your cheek.

“That I don’t want anyone else–” presses the last where your neck and shoulders meet. 

“Just you.”

Your heart clenches at the sincerity in his voice, and when your eyes meet again in the mirror, the tenderness there leaves you so breathless.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you turn in his arms, your hands sliding up to his face as you pull him down for a kiss. His fingers tighten on your waist as he deepens the kiss, pulling you flush against him.

You walk back to your bed, lips fused with his, your fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair. The urgency between you grows as you push him down onto the mattress, his back hitting the sheets with a quiet thud. You follow immediately, straddling him, your body molding against his as you capture his lips again. The kiss is deep, consuming, his hands gripping your waist like he’s anchoring himself to you.

You stay like that for a while, tongues teasing, breaths mingling, drunk in the taste of each other. Then, a sharp pull of his lower lip between your teeth has him groaning into your mouth.

You’re driven by lust, and something else. A possessive demon seems to be overriding your better judgment, thinking you’ve been timid with your feelings for long enough. No woman, not Sung Kyung, even if he is Han’s mom, can take what you and Yoongi have been building up to for so damn long.

“You’re in your head,” Yoongi says, nudging his nose against yours.

“Did she kiss you like this, huh?” The words leave you before you can stop them. Your lips return to his, sucking greedily, staking your claim.

Yoongi’s breath shudders as you pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “No, baby.” His voice is rough, lips pink and swollen.

Your fingers slide under his shirt, pushing the fabric up and over his head, tossing it aside before your hands explore the newly exposed skin. He’s warm, toned beneath your touch, and the way his muscles tense under your fingertips only spurs you further. You lean down, lips dragging along his jawline, open-mouthed kisses trailing down his throat. He tastes sweet, salty, and entirely intoxicating.

“Did you fuck anyone else when I left?” you mumble against his skin, your teeth grazing the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

His breath hitches, “No, shit. No.”

“Good boy.” You hum in satisfaction, your lips venturing lower, your tongue flicking against the hollow of his throat. He groans, head pressing back into the pillow.

“Baby, you’re making me lose my shit right now,” he grits out, his voice strained, desperate. His hands now get braver, sliding underneath your top to fondle your tits. 

Maybe you’re delirious. Maybe you’re too turned on to think straight. Or maybe—maybe this is exactly what you’ve wanted since the moment you saw him again.

Your hand drifts down, fingers tracing the outline of his hard length through his trousers, feeling the way he twitches under your palm. 

“You’re mine, okay?” you whisper, nipping at his bottom plush as your fingers give his dick a squeeze.

He exhales a shaky laugh, his lips curving under yours. “Yours.”

He lets you revel in your greed for a few moments, allowing you to do whatever you pleased as you lose yourself in the heat building between you.

He ruts up towards your hand, grunting slightly. Honestly, he’s so hard, it’d be a mercy to release him from the confines of his jeans. So you do, helping him unbutton, unzip, and undress, until his cock springs free and flops on his stomach.

What a pretty dick. Literally lickable—solid, girthy, veiny, a bead of white pooling at the slit. You take him in your mouth, tracing the tip with your tongue, the taste of pre-cum coating your throat. You let drool cascade down his length, slick fingers pumping his shaft while your mouth suctions his mushroom head.

His hand goes to the back of your neck, guiding you in a bit more. “Mmm… that’s it, baby.” 

Yoongi moans your name as you go faster. You feel him twitching inside your mouth. He’s so hard but you don’t want him to cum yet. You pop him off to lap at the base, before your tongue travels upward to trace the thick veins on the underside of his cock. 

Jaw slack, his eyes are dark, dark as he observes you while propped up on his elbows. “Come up,” he says when you reluctantly pull away. “Wanna eat you out.”

Your clothes are yanked off your body as you take his place on the cushions, not a single piece of fabric now separating your skin. He takes you by the hip and adjusts your position so he can get his face close to your mound. Before you can mentally prepare yourself, he shoves his hot tongue against your folds, locating your clit in 0.001 seconds and you know you’ll be careening off a cliff in no time.

“I—Yoongi, that’s… shit that’s nice.” You can’t help it. It does feel nice.

You reach for the little ponytail on his head, gripping it for dear life. He hums against your bud when you pull, the vibrations only driving you more insane.

“You taste so good baby,” he mumbles.

“Yeah?”

“I can eat you out for days, make you cum,” he vows, delirious just like you are. “Over and over… my favorite fuckin’ snack.” 

“Oh my god, Yoongi…”

He feasts, and feasts, and soon enough, you’re shuddering in ecstasy, hips bucking in the process, as he slurps all you give him. He wears your cum like a gloss as he comes up for air, a lazy but proud smile on his face.

You reach for the drawer on your nightstand and pull out a new, sealed, and unopened box of condoms shoving it on his chest. He holds it in one hand, nose scrunching as he suppresses a laugh.

“Someone prepared…”

You shrug as he plucks one and unwraps it quickly, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re too cute for me.”

“Shut uppp.”

He rolls the condom on his dick, propping one hand by the side of your face as he uses the other to rub his blunt tip against your entrance. Your pussy is drenched and he slips right in and bottoms out with a grunt against your ear. He’s thick and big against your walls.

A smack against your ass cheeks makes you clench. “Ah, shit.” And another one lands before he soothes it with a gentle massage. 

You’re going crazy but you need him deeper. Sensing your needs, Yoongi pushes the back of your knees higher and snaps his hips with more force, pounding your pussy as your bed creaks against the wall. Your lids are heavy but you keep your eyes open long enough to see how fucked out he looks, cheeks flushed pink with a coat of sheen on his forehead, teeth caging his lower lip.

“You’re so hot. I wanna ride you,” you declare, stuttering a bit from his thrusts.

“Yeah?” He pants, slows the roll of his hips, waiting for your confirmation. 

When you nod, he slips off with a wince and you feel your juices trickle down your skin. You reverse positions, mattress dipping as you shift your knees on each side of his hips. 

“Do your thing, baby,” he urges, lacing his fingers behind his head, elbows bent outward in a relaxed pose.

Your smile is watery as you use his tip to prod against your clit one or twice before you sink him inside your wet heat. You moan in unison when you're fully seated, the feeling of him snug and warm and so full inside you driving you mad.

You tip your head back, palms planted against his chest as you swivel your hips in a slow dance. 

You look down on him, hair cascading over your shoulder, and you think how much you like this view. And how you won't mind this view everyday, actually. Seems the possessive streak from earlier still has not satiated. 

“Shit—you’re so hot like this.” 

You rock against him, clit stimulated deliciously as you ride his cock. He’s got a cocky little grin as you use him. You throw your ass back, and he has a front row seat and VIP access to your bouncing tits, his tongue slack on the side of his lips. He cups your tits with both hands, the wet pads of his thumbs rubbing against your nipples.

“My turn,” he grabs hold of your waist and thrusts upward so roughly your eyes roll back in pleasure.

He pistons into you, finger digging on your skin to keep you in place and a long moan rips from your throat when he jerks up particularly hard.

Your hands slip to his shoulder as your body bounces by the force of his movements, tits sliding against his chest. His thighs must be burning and when he slightly lets up, you dip your head, shamelessly to lick the side of his face, moaning his name against his ear. 

“Baby—” you beg, not really saying what you need, but he knows.

He uses a sweaty hand to guide a tit in his mouth, suckling at it with a bit of teeth. 

Not a moment later, he’s fucking you again from below, deeper, faster, and when rapidly presses into your sweet spot, you’re a goner.

“I’m close, Yoongi. So close…”

“Me too, baby,” his voice is rough as he lets go of your bruised nipple, brows furrowed in concentration like he is fully intent to give you the orgasm of your life. He pushes into your depth relentlessly, 

White hot heat is blooming inside you, and you feel his cock throb, abs tightening, before he spills his seed in the condom, groaning with his eyes shut to savor the intensity of his release. It’s the pure unadulterated pleasure painted on his face and his deep delicious moan that tips you over the edge, too, clenching against his solidness as you slip into the sinful pleasure of your orgasm.

Chest to chest, you rest your full weight against him, softening dick still nestled inside you. You press your lips against his neck, feeling the vibrations of his throaty chuckle. Then he asks, “Was it good?”

“So good.”

“Mm.” He hums, nosing the side of your face so you’d look at him. “Did you really mean what you said earlier?”

“Which one?”

“That you, uh, despite everything, you’d do it again, for me.”

You start to feel a bit shy, but then you remember you’re literally naked. On top of him. And he is still inside you. The point of bashfulness is long past. It’s time for the truth. “Yeah.”

“Bold of you, no?”

“Dumb, too.”

He pushes an errant hair behind your ear, eyes still glazed from the sex, but fond. “You know I really like you, right? If it isn’t painfully obvious.”

“Me too, Yoongi. Since Stan. Maybe even earlier.”

“Will you be my girl, then?”

Yoongi watches you carefully, waiting for your response. The earnest curve of his lips, the slight scrunch of his nose, the way his fingers still rest on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away—it’s all so achingly real.

You study him for a moment, letting yourself take it in. Everything about him—his caring nature, his tenderness, his immense love for Han, his ability to drive you absolutely insane and still make you feel like you’re the only person in the world who matters.

The outside world is still in chaos. The scandal, the noise, the questions that neither of you have all the answers to yet. But here, in your little apartment, wrapped in the warmth of him, none of that feels as important as this.

“I will,” you finally say, voice steady.

His breath catches, just for a second. Then, his lips spread into the softest, gummiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, almost like he’s making sure he heard you right.

You nod, “Yeah.”

Your lips meet for a gentle kiss that feels like a promise and the rest of the world falls away. For now, no matter what comes next, it’s the two of you—finally honest, finally sure, and finally together.

:]

A/N: YASSSS. Our babies have finally figured it out. How do you feel right now? Would love to hear your comments! 

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful human! Xo

P.S. Am gunning for 1,000 followers before Yoongi’s birthday. :) I think I’ll get there with your help. Feel free to reblog the story if you like, and that can help more people find our lovely L&L couple.

Love you!~

Permanent Taglist (Part 1)

@wonh0oe @hyukaluve @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

@futuristicenemychaos @jadestonedaeho7 @granataepfelchen @whoa-jo @annyeongbitch7

@chimmisbae @sexytholland @idkjustlovingbts @kpophosblog @tinyelfperson

@yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 @diame93 @janeelizabeth1216

@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm @angellekookie

The rest to follow in a reblog.

[yuyusshinelight]

Dad thoughts feat ATEEZ: I want a brother/sister

♪ This post is about how I think they would be as parents; just that, some thoughts. This does NOT represent any of Ateez's members in any way.

♪ English is not my first language so sorry if there's any mistake.

Vocabulary just in case someone doesn't know:

y/s/n — your son's name

y/d/n — your daughter's name

Byeol — star

Jagi — sweetheart, darling, etc...

Note: Hi my shining stars! Here I come with a new scenario for our boys being dads because I know how much you like those parenting headcanons. I hope you like it and enjoy your reading. Love you all!!!

SEONGHWA

Seonghwa and your daughter were peacefully building their Lego sets together when the older Park decided to have a conversation about that not too little issue you had commented to him when he had arrived at home "I have heard that you want a little sibling, byeol" and the little girl only nodded, not stopping her really important task of mistakenly making the base of the moon on which his half-finished Sanrio doll should lie "And can daddy know why you want a little brother or sister?".

Seonghwa was clearly trying to get your daughter to tell him the same thing you had told him that afternoon without asking her directly. The way you looked at the ground with a soft pout when you told him that your little star had been sad lately for being only child had him worried about the issue being more serious than he though at first.

"I don't like to be alone" At that confession Seonghwa's heart stopped. Perhaps you two had made her feel lonely without realizing it? "But you have mommy and daddy, my love".

"It's not the same... We can't stay together all the time" The sadness with which his beloved daughter said that felt like the most hurtful stab directly into his heart, it even made Seonghwa hate his work for a moment "Daddy and mommy would like to be with you all the time, baby, but—".

"But you can't, I know..." For how his baby had finished his sentence, Seonghwa couldn't help but feel worse, her small but heartbreaking pout could be perfectly appreciated in her sweet voice.

Something in his head snapped.

In the gentlest way he could, the man took his daughter from her seat to put her on his lap and give her that so needed hug he was craving for "Don't you worry, byeol, mommy and daddy will bring you a little brother or sister, okay?" The speed at which her head turned to look him directly in the eyes even scared the poor man with the possibility of a sudden dizziness or some blow to his little girl from such an action but all his worries erased as fast as your daughter moved her head seconds before thanks to the way in which her eyes shone brighter than ever, holding the galaxy itself in those small orbs exactly like his own "Really? It's a promise?".

The excitement on the little girl's face brought out the most tender and sincere smile from Seonghwa who didn't last long to rub his nose against hers, showering her soft cheeks with many kisses "It's a promise, my byeol".

And maybe he should have talked about the sibling thing with you before promising it to your daughter but, let's not lie, Seonghwa knew you better than yourself; the moment he said yes to his daughter he was already counting on you to be more than okay with having a second child. In fact, you were the one who laid Seonghwa on your shared bed after making sure that your child was peacefully asleep on her own to ride him like never before until he decided to change positions to bury himself even deeper inside you. It wasn't in his plans to break the promise he made to his little star so he fucked you until he left your belly nicely swollen with his seed.

Neither of you could deny anything to your little four-year-old walking smile.

HONGJOONG

"I want a little sister" said your three-year-old son as he perched himself in his father's work chair, a phrase that made Hongjoong drop whatever he was with that same moment and look at the kid "What? Why all of a sudden?".

"My best friend just had one and she's very cute" The way in which his baby waddled slowly without letting go of the chair, with that rascally face inherited from him himself, looking at him expectantly for an affirmative answer, brought out of Hongjoong his most genuine smile "Well, yes. Babies are really cute" he said, ruffling his hair before picking him up and sitting the child on his lap "but that's not a reason to have one, love".

For how the minor gasped dramatically while frowning, there was no doubt that that response had even offended him. This little boy's reactions were so comically unique that Hongjoong's stomach even hurt from laughing on many occasions.

"But I want one!" The child said as if it was the most prevalent reason to have a baby, and Hongjoong was about to talk but the appearance of his favorite girl stopped him "I think I have something to say in all this no?" You said, entering the room until you were standing next to your husband, something that didn't last long because said husband didn't like the idea of not having you closer so he sat you on his free leg; and it's not like you were going to complain, in fact, you hugged him "It's my belly the one that's going to hold that little sister for nine months".

"How?" As soon as he asked, both parents' eyes widened. You should have assumed he would ask, but hey, it's not like you mind talking about it, not like Hongjoong apparently "How what, baby?" He acted dumb, clearly not wanting to have that conversation now, too young his son to talk about anything of that "How will the baby get into mommy's tummy?" But this little curious boy wasn't about to leave the topic for Hongjoong's misfortune, who even let out an accidental "Oh shit".

It had to be said that Hongjoong didn't expect that he should have to answer this question at this point of his short life as a father, nor did he expect that too adorable "Oh shit" from the kid either. Word that clearly set off your alarms as a mother "No, baby. Don't say that" You corrected him, booping his nose and waiting for the child to ask why he couldn't say it if his dad could but you were surprised with that too cute "Okay mommy".

Both you and Hongjoong were about to die of love.

"That's my good boy" Hongjoong said, ruffling his hair one more time and giving him a kiss on the head "So are you going to bring me a little sister yes or not?" You both looked at each other, not knowing exactly what to say, until Hongjoong decided to leave the answer hanging in the air "We'll see" to which your son answered with an unfortunate unexpected "Fuck".

"HONGJOONG" Was the first thing that crossed your mind, yelling at the surprised man that was now looking at you "I DIDN'T EVEN SAY THAT" But then he stopped, thinking for a moment "Well maybe he has learned it from me, yes..." And your son nodding only made you look even worse at your husband "Don't say that either, okay baby?" And with that your baby boy covered his mouth with his two little hands and nod one more time, making you both laugh.

YUNHO

It was a peaceful night at Jeong's residence until your eldest son ended with said peace after all those failed attempts to play with his little sister who was only dedicated to watch him move while eating her tiny fist so calmly in her baby-hammock.

"I want another brother or sister!" Your son screamed, running towards his father's open legs to hide his head in his crotch and hold on to his legs. Sudden blow to his private parts that made Yunho complain and you chuckled softly under your breath so as not to be discovered by your husband who was already looking at you with half-closed eyes and shaking his head despite being laughing too.

"Why do you say that, baby?" You asked after you managed to calm your laughter "Because Y/D/N never plays with me!" Your son screamed again, readjusting his posture while firming his grip without separating an inch from his father "It's that?" Yunho asked between laughs, stroking his little head after hearing his son complain in a sort of shouted sob "I mean, if you want another sibling daddy will give you one".

"Tch, Yunho" His first name, not jagi. Bad moment to put on display his pleaser nature, man "But you have to ask mommy too" And you nodded, he was safe "So... you want another sibling to play with because your sister can't, baby?" And your son nodded without taking his head off his father's body "But you have to know that if we give you a new brother or sister, they couldn't play with you either" And that's the moment your son lifted his head, looking at you directly with a mix of horror and surprise, as if what you had said was the strangest thing ever "Why?".

"Because they would be even smaller than Y/D/N".

"More?!" He was silent for a moment after both Yunho and you nodded, seeming to be reconsidering what you had just revealed to him, when he suddenly separated from Yunho completely, crossing his arms and giving you both his back angrily "I don't want another sibling then".

"Oh no, my third baby" Jeong senior said dramatically, he even put his hands on his chest where his heart was pretending to be hurt "Yunho" you said in a warning tone, taking your son in your arms to hug him, accommodating you two in the couch under the warmth of your favorite blanket "Oh, come on. Three kids sounds nice, don't you think?".

"Y/D/N is only seven months old, let me enjoy life without kicks that burst my ribs a little longer" You couldn't see it because you were too busy kissing your son but you already knew that Yunho was smiling for how happy he sounded saying "A little longer? Is that a yes to a third baby?" Which only confirmed to you that Yunho was indeed looking forward to having a third. And one thing you were never good at since you started dating him was saying no to him when he looked so adorably excited about something "It's a 'maybe when my ribs return to their natural position because your daughter opened them for kicking them so many times' ".

"We're having a third" Yunho said victoriously with that goofy smile that you fell in love with at first sight and that, to this day, was still one of your many weak points.

YEOSANG

"Daddy" your daughter said in the softest voice you could have ever heard in your life. You couldn't see her because you were at the laundry room while your husband and daughter were doing an afternoon snack but you could even swear that she was playing with her little fingers nervously for the tone she used. That was one of her gestures when she was about to ask for something "Tell me, darling" Yeosang sounded as cute as your daughter which made you smile foolishly, nothing could please you more than the fact that the two loves of your life were so much alike "Can I have a sibling, please?".

That question surely made you slow down the speed at which you were doing the laundry, as if that would help you to hear better. It was a topic Yeosang and you talked about a few months ago, both thinking that it would be nice to have a second child not only because you two think that having siblings is so beneficial for a kid, but because you both were attracted by the idea of expanding your family. Another living proof of your love for each other.

But those were your reasons to want another baby, what would your daughter's reasons be? You were curious about them. Just like Yeosang.

"Of course, darling. But can daddy know why you ask?" The tenderness with which your husband was handling this conversation, like every conversation he had with your daughter, was so heartwarming. You could die of a sweet high "I want a sibling to be my best friend forever" and your daughter was about to finish what her father had started.

Not being able to be a mere listener anymore, you put the small skirt you had in your hands back in the laundry basket to go out to the kitchen, finding the lovely picture of your daughter sitting at the counter next to your husband, helping him prepare a bowl of fruit for the three of you to enjoy together.

"Have you heard it, Y/N-ah?" Yeosang said, looking at you with a cute smile that made his dimples stand out. He looked so innocent that made your heart beat in happiness "That's why I'm here, jagi" you approached them, taking your daughter's cheeks between your hands "To tell our baby that mommy and daddy will try to give her a sibling as soon as possible" and then you showered your little girl with lots of kisses to which she replied more than delighted just to join forces you both a few seconds later to shower Yeosang with kisses as well. Something the male was more than happy to accept.

SAN

When your older daughter asked in the middle of the dinner for another sibling you choked with your water to which San quickly reacted by patting you gently on the back, a situation that seemed very funny to the youngest of the three children who couldn't stop laughing at mommy's coughing fit. Whoever was not amused at all was your middle child, and it was not surprising after how much she cried and threw a tantrum when San and you told her that she was going to be big sister.

"Another one?!" She looked at her parents with a mixture of fear, surprise and rejection in her eyes that threatened to burst into tears if you gave her an affirmative answer. She looked so affected that she even worried you both. San couldn't see his kid like that "No, baby" he answered with so much tenderness, hugging the kid and giving her a soft kiss on her forehead before looking at you and asking "No?".

Who knows, maybe you were expecting a fourth child and he didn't know it.

But you shook your head what made your older daughter cross her arms and openly complain about not having a fourth sibling to which your second daughter yelled a not too nice "Three are fine!" Frowning and getting up from her seat to climb onto her father's lap so he could hold her as she wanted, searching for his comfort "But I want another brother!" The eldest answered in the same way her sister had spoken. The girls' tone only hinted at an impending fight between them, something that neither San nor you wanted obviously so San immediately cut them off with a serious "Enough girls".

San hated to use a severe tone with his children but he hated even more the idea of having a fight between his daughters when it was supposed to be a nice and lovely dinner in family. Much worse if the fight was going to be about whether or not to have another member in your family.

"What have we said about raising our voices in a bad way?" He said with seriousness, which made both kids look down with a pout "Sorry..." Both girls said at unison, now looking up at their father before looking at the other, your middle child climbing off San's lap to hug her older sister as an apology. Both had been taught to apologise to each other with a hug to make amends.

And after seeing that your daughters were fine again you decided to settle the dispute "About the sibling thing" both girls had their attention on you now "Daddy and mommy think that three kids are enough, by the moment" which made your second daughter smile unconsciously while your eldest pouted "But that doesn't mean that we won't bring you another sibling in the future" this time your second daughter was the one not looking so pleased while the eldest was smiling.

From the way they both nodded you knew they were content but not satisfied with that. You had given birth to them and raised them, you knew absolutely every single one of their gestures and what they meant. But hey, the discussion was over and you could go back to dinner in peace.

MINGI

"I like this one" Your son said, pointing to a photo in which both children were curled up in their father's arms, the three of them sleeping on the couch comfortably, Mingi hadn't even changed his clothes; one of your favorite pictures in fact, just looking at it almost brought tears to your eyes "In this one dad had just arrived from a tour. You refused to leave his arms even for a single second".

"How old were we?" This one was your daughter "Seven months" Mingi answered, smiling at the memory of how his babies received him that day with their little arms raised, calling him between really cute babblings while they moved nervously in their mother's arms "Such cute babies we were and I don't remember that" Your daughter said dramatically "We need a baby in this house".

"Wait, what?" You looked between your kids and Mingi, who was as surprised as you from hearing that, getting even more surprised when your son agreed with his sister "Right! If we have a little brother or sister they will look as cute as us!".

"Woo, woo, woo. Slow down you two" Mingi tried to calm his already excited twins but it didn't work at all "And why a little brother or a little sister when we can have both?" Your daughter ignored him to continue her talk with her brother, you could almost swear that her eyes were shining. But here dad came to try to calm the situation a second time after seeing the way in which your eyes widened "I told you to slow down, neither your mom nor I have said that we are going to bring you a sibling".

"But daddy! We lost each other as a baby!" Your son exclaimed dramatically as if it was the worst thing ever, with his hands on his father's cheeks and his head tilted back to add more drama "We want to have a baby at home" your daughter pouted sadly with a frown and, before Mingi had the opportunity to reply to that you suddenly said "Well, they really seem very excited about the idea of being big bother and sister, daddy" looking at him with a knowing smile. Apparently he had misinterpreted that expression of yours from a few seconds ago.

The fact is that Mingi had caught your message but, with both children staring at him expectantly, he couldn't do anything but respond to you with one look that only you could interpret: tomorrow you weren't going to be able to get out of bed. But that was only for you, obviously, the answer for your twins was "Then it seems to me that the family is going to grow, mommy " For which your living room ended up filled with euphoric shouts from your kids.

WOOYOUNG

"Babe, come here!" Wooyoung screamed from the kitchen and a lot of horrible things crossed your mind, since your son had been burned until he had cut one of his fingers "What happens?! I swear to god that if my baby is missing just one finger I'll—".

"None of that, I have everything under control here. Just listen to what our baby has to tell you" and with that all your attention went to your three year old boy who was jumping in the stool he was standing on to help his dad with dinner "I want a little sister!" And at such a revelation you could only blink several times, looking between father and son in silence until, after blinking a few more times, you said a simple "A sister".

"Yes!" Your eldest son said really excited, jumping even higher in his spot to which Wooyoung already had his arm around him but without touching him, just as a precautionary measure to prevent his son from falling "I already have a brother, I want a sister now".

Without a doubt, you thought it was quite cute the way he had said it, swaying his little body from side to side with those bright little eyes, but you couldn't help but to look up at the smiling father, looking for an answer "Do you have anything to do with this, love?" And Wooyoung shoke his head, not stopping smiling even for a second "It's all Y/S/N idea. But I also think that it's time to have a girl, babe".

And, to say the truth, the idea of having a girl was quite tempting, even more so when you had been thinking the same thing for a while. Having two children was fantastic as well as exhausting, you were more than sure that having one more could only double the happiness but also the exhaustion. And that was a sacrifice you were willing to do for sure.

"And you? Do you want a sister too?" You asked your second son who you were carrying in your arm, the baby smiling at you the very next moment his big shining eyes met yours which made you smile too "Okay then. Let's see if we can bring you a little sister" You finally said, both your eldest son and your husband screamed with excitement "But you have to know that it may not be a girl but another boy".

"We can always try again, love, don't worry about that" Wooyoung said nonchalantly, winking at you with a big smile to which your son exclaimed an excited "Yes!" Happy with the thought that one way or another he was going to have a little sister "Why did I already expect it..." You shook your head but not in a bad mood, you were also laughing at how predictable Wooyoung and your son were to you.

JONGHO

"Go, go. Ask daddy, my love" Jongho heard you say to your son distantly, you were at the bathroom giving your kid a shower while he was resting on the sofa after having set the table for dinner. Then, the sound of tiny quick steps made him turn off his phone, waiting for his son to appear in front of him just to be surprised by the kid poking his little head out on the side "Hi, baby" Said Jongho, waiting patiently for his son to tell him whatever he had to tell him "I want a brother!".

One, two, three blinks from the surprised father. Not even a hi. His son went straight to the point. The child was certainly clear about his priorities.

Well, such a question demanded seriousness so Jongho leaned closer to the armrest to close distance with his son, resting one arm and intertwining his hands "Daddy and mommy have to talk about it first but tell me, why you want a sibling?".

He had heard multiple reasons why a child might want a sibling. Some quite cute, some quite funny, and with the witty answers your son had for everything, Jongho was especially curious about this one. What a surprise he got when he heard your little boy say "All my friends are from the school or the park, if I have a sibling I will have a friend at home too!".

It was certainly something totally unexpected for Jongho. Although the thought of his son indirectly telling him that he felt lonely at home worried him for a moment, the sight of the smiling kid quickly dispelled all those worries. His little boy just wanted a playmate at home like he had at school and in the park.

"Fine. We'll see if we give you a sibling, okay?" Your son nodded enthusiastically at his father before going to the dining table, leaving both Jongho and you alone in the living room "That was a maybe for a second baby?" You asked him with something like hope shining in your eyes and that was when Jongho remembered hearing you say how much you wanted a second child when you were on the phone, talking to a friend.

If both his son and wife wanted to expand the family, he only could please them so, standing up from his seat, Jongho approached you, stopping in front of you with both hands in the pockets of his trousers "We'll see. We can try as many times as you want but I don't control biology, jagi" and he left you there with a blush on your cheeks, clearly having taken the hint in his words, going to the dining table too with a big smile on his lips.

[ghostgirl-22]

so i actually need pt 2 to the older patrick younger art fic right NOW.. jk but it was amazing

Y’all. Y’ALL. I heard you. And though I don’t really love writing sequels… I’ll do anything for you honestly <33

Original.

It’s a mess and way too long which is prbly to be expected by now. Idk. Sometimes you just have to get out of your head and post 😭

18+ NSFW

CW: AGE GAP 10-11 years, power dynamics, teacher/student vibes, first time vibes, AND mild daddy!kink whoopsie! How did that happen? Obviously if any of these things make you uncomfortable don’t read. I don’t take it personally. I’ll explain myself a bit. Art in my imagination here didn’t get constantly shown up by Patrick and because Patrick wasn’t there Art got the attention Patrick got for his skills so he’s a little more arrogant (still a little insecure because that’s his core) and still messy. Patrick had the Tashi injury which makes him a little less arrogant (brought down a notch but still overcompensates and actively self sabotages because that’s his core) and still messy.

——

Art is still keyed up the next morning. His roommate, Devon, is bragging about hooking up with a senior. Art is trying to pay attention but all he can think about is how he got on his knees and gave messy head to Patrick, Coach Zweig, his 31 year old ridiculously hot tennis coach. And how Patrick practically promised to fuck him if he was a really good boy all week. He’s sitting on his hands trying not to go crazy.

“What did you get up to?” Devon finally asks him. Picking up his towel and getting ready to shower.

“Can you keep a secret?” Art asks.

That makes him sit back down. “Yeah of course.”

Art tells him about Patrick, most of it anyway, watching his eyes widen. He’s not on the tennis team but he’s heard enough about Coach Zweig from Art that he can’t help giggling.

“You’re fucking joking.”

“I’m not, I swear.”

“Holy shit. And I thought I was doing something with that senior. Wow. This would only happen to you.”

Art isn’t sure what he means by that but he’s suddenly asking a million questions. Art tells him some things, embellishing and withholding various details. The closest Art ever came to actually fucking a boy was when he used to sneak in Devon’s bed whenever he got horny at night. They were so close to fucking when Art made him stop. so he made Art promise to stop leading him on. And now they’re proper roommates with boundaries and everything. Though sometimes Art thinks if he asked for it Devon would still fuck him.

Devon thinks it’s hot, the whole Patrick thing. Thinks Patrick wants to make Art his kept boy. “Well I mean… he’s old and everyone says he’s loaded, right? He can give you whatever you want.” Devon says.

“Please, he wouldn’t even give me his phone number.” Art says dismissively. “And I don’t need to be kept I just need his dick.”

Devon chews his bottom lip looking Art over and Art wonders if he crossed a boundary. He’s so fucking messy with them.

“Lucky him,” Devon says dryly, rolling his eyes. “But maybe you should milk it. You’re young and beautiful and blonde and he’s your coach so it’s like.. it’s kind of illicit. He could get you a nice place off campus… be your sugar daddy. Girls do it all the time.”

“I think he’d kill me if I ever called him that,” Art laughs, making up his mind to definitely call him that at some point.

Devon agrees to come out with him next weekend but he still has to wait the whole fucking week. It feels like torture.

They have practice everyday and a game on Friday. Which means Patrick’s in those short shorts running them around the court every single day. Art can’t keep his mind off of him. Just wants his attention so bad, everyday he’s doing everything he can just to get Patrick to look in his direction. But Patrick’s got an epic poker face. He’s so fucking cool and calm and collected. So good at acting like nothing happened. Like everything is the same and they never did what they did.

There's one difference. Instead of having the assistant coach do it… he’ll bring Art to the side and personally correct him when he thinks Art could play better. Show him how to position himself, swing the racket, follow through. Big hands, rough hands, gripping Art's waist to turn his body, his wrist to direct his swing. The same hands that effortlessly lifted off his lap the other night.

“Can’t be all talk and no action sweetheart,” Patrick says lightly, as he’s standing behind him. God. It’s actually stupid how sexy he is. Art’s never thought this much about being penetrated, ever. He makes sure to arch his back just a little more than he usually does. Patrick presses a hand to the small of his back.

Art fingers the grip of his racket. “I don’t think I was all talk.”

Patrick chuckles, low and soft. “Stop it. Focus. Bring that energy here,” he says, “all that confidence right here and no one will rattle you.”

“Like this?” Art demonstrates. He makes a mess of it just so that Patrick will touch him again. It takes a minute before Patrick catches on.

“I think you get it,” he says dryly.

“Please show me one more time. I just wanna be a good boy for you,” Art says lightly. It makes Patrick swallow… his gaze falls helplessly over Arts body and then he looks away smirking.

“Are you having fun?” He says, leaning in close, eyes all crinkly with amusement.

Art wants to kiss him. “Mmhm,” he hums, pressing his lips together. “Though sometimes it still feels like my mouth is so full of you I could just… choke.”

“Yeah… right…” Patrick rolls his eyes, still smiling and then he takes a deep breath and drags his hand over his beard. “Hm…What’s today?”

“Wednesday,” Art says.

“And my plans for the weekend are still up in the air,” he says, patting Art on the shoulder as he takes his racket and turns to face the team. “Five laps around the court, everybody, let’s gooo!” He says loudly, blowing his whistle. “Fucking hustle!”

There’s an audible groan and the sounds of rackets dropping as everyone stops what they’re doing and starts running. “Go join them. And if you keep it up it’ll be sprints next.” Patrick says softly.

Art grins, as much as he hates running and he’s sure his teammates will assume he’s responsible for this bit of conditioning, it was still totally fucking worth it.

He probably should’ve focused more but he wins on Friday in spite of himself. Tennis is such a mental game and while he’s generally confident and loves the attention that comes with playing as number one on the center stage, he’s not consistent. That’s what Patrick always says at least. There are opponents that leave him feeling less sure of himself and then he tends to get in his head imagining he’s somehow inadequate or deficient.

One of those players is a French recruit from UCLA, Jensen Bordeaux. Art starts out strong. Crushes it in the first set. But when Bordeaux fights back in the second and he falls apart a little. It’s a bad habit. He wins another game but it’s not enough. He ends up nearly going into a third set.

“Remember what I said,” Patrick takes him to the side between points. “Stop acting like you can’t finish him off. You can have whatever you want right?”

Art gazes at him and bites his lip. “Mmhm.” He nods.

“Good. You know what you want. Just take it. Okay?”

“Yeah okay,” Art says breathlessly.

“Good boy,” Patrick says, rubbing his shoulders, a little smirk on his lips. “Try not to… you know… choke.”

Art feels heated from the inside out. He goes back on the court except he’s not thinking about the game. Instead he’s so anxious for the promise of tomorrow night that all this begins to feel like a mere obstacle to that. He makes easy work of it, winning the tiebreaker and shifting it so that Stanford goes home the winning team.

Everyone on the team goes out to a frat party to celebrate and Art is so drunk and horny by the end of the night. He stumbles into his dorm at 1 am, falls drunkenly into bed and starts touching himself. Fingers in his mouth imagining it’s the heavy weight and thickness of Patrick’s cock. Imagining Patrick’s large hands in his hair, imagining the soft, easily amused tone of his voice as he murmurs. “Good boy.” Makes him come so fast and hard he passes out.

He’s a mess in the morning. In more ways than one. They don’t have practice after game days so he sleeps off his hangover and the day flies by. He takes a long hot shower before he gets ready to go. Anxiety and anticipation competing for space in his brain and body. Devon loans him clothes that are so much tighter than anything he wears regularly. “Trust me, he’s gonna be all over you in this.”

They get there at the same time as last week but Patrick doesn’t come right away. Art’s waiting and waiting and waiting for Patrick to show up at the gay bar. Devon is at a table, a new boy on his lap and they’re making out. Art is half tipsy, swinging his legs on a barstool while this guy from the baseball team stands between his thighs asking him everything about tennis like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. And that’s when Patrick finally arrives. He spots Art across the bar and smirks. Art gets up right away, making excuses to the now frowning baseball player about seeing him around on campus.

“That was fast,” Patrick smirks, as Art sidles up next to him.

“Well I didn’t know you’d take so long to come,” Art says, moving closer. “Is that an old person thing?”

”Mm, you…” Patrick chuckles, tapping his credit card on the bar. He’s got such a great smile. God. Art is so far gone. This is tragic.

“Can you buy me a drink?” Art asks in his ear.

“No fucking way,” Patrick says, amused.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously, how many drinks have you had tonight?”

Art holds up 3 fingers.

“Is that how many fingers I’m gonna have to put in before I can… nevermind…” Patrick says.

Art grins. Warmth spreading throughout his body. “It’s really big,” Art whispers. “Maybe you need four?”

“God…” Patrick laughs, incredulous. “I shouldn’t even fucking be here.” He sighs, as the bartender approaches them. He orders a whiskey and because it’s two for one he gives in and lets Art pick something. He orders rum and coke.

Art feels giddy as he sips on it.

“So used to getting whatever you ask for,” Patrick says, looking him over, teasing a finger into one of his belt loops. “Twenty years old. God. You make me fucking crazy.” He whispers in Art’s ear.

Art can’t help grinning.

Patrick makes him wait while he talks to people his own age. Acting all wholesome. “Oh he’s just one of my players, I’m gonna make sure he gets home safe.” He even gives Art the key so he can wait in his jeep. Art’s hard as soon as he gets in it. Listens to music too loud and ponders touching himself.

He’s kissing on Patrick right away when he finally gets in the car. He’s been so eager all week. “Mm…” Patrick pulls back, tangling his fingers into Art’s hair. “Fuck… gimme a minute to get you home, okay?” he says and he turns on the engine and puts the music back at a sensible volume.

“Is it far?” Art asks.

Patrick huffs a laugh. “Take a deep breath.”

It doesn't help. Everything smells like him. Art puts a hand on Patrick’s thigh, his skin is so heated. He remembers how warm Patrick’s cock felt in his mouth and then his mouth starts watering.

“Is Tashi there?” Art sighs.

“What do you fucking think?”

Art leans close, just breathing him in. Resting his head on Patrick’s shoulder. ”She’s so pretty.” He hums.

“I know.”

“You’re so pretty.”

Patrick chuckles, a low vibration Art can feel from his throat that makes him shiver. “And you're so tipsy. And so fucking young.”

“But you like it.” Art says softly, rubbing Patrick’s thigh. Skin so warm he’s like a furnace. Already hard enough that Art can feel it.

”And I know I’m gonna regret it.”

Their house is actually huge. On the nicer side of Palo Alto. It’s one of the ones with a pool and a tennis court and a crazy nice view of the city. Art doesn’t know any of this until later because as soon as they're inside he’s trying to get his tongue in Patrick’s mouth. Patrick walks him back towards the living room where there’s a huge leather sofa. Art climbs onto his lap as soon as he sits down. Patrick is touching him everywhere, fingers tangled into his hair. Hands under his shirt, rubbing him, teasing him. Art is just trying his best to feel him, lick into his mouth and taste him. All while grinding against his prominent bulge. Grabbing at his zipper trying to get it out.

“Can you fuck me?” Art begs against his lips.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes against his lips, he’s gripping Art’s waist tightly. Slowing him down. He sighs like he’s trying to pull himself together. “Mmkay. God. Stand up a minute. I need to get a condom and some lube.”

Art gets up reluctantly, nervous energy making him bounce on his toes like he’s waiting on a serve. Patrick smirks, “Relax… I’ll be back in a minute.” He pats Art’s shoulder as he gets up and disappears into another room. It doesn’t matter whether Art sits or stands, he’s anxious. He looks around the lavish room, fancy furniture, paintings that look expensive. Massive kitchen like the kind you see in movies. Patrick comes back and he’s all loose, t-shirt wrinkled, hair messy, eyes soft. He’s probably done this a million times. He’s got a condom between his fingers which he hands to Art.

“You wanna put it on me?”

”Mmhm,” Art says. He’s also carrying a little bottle of lube. Art’s trying to rip the packet open but his hands are all shaky. Especially when Patrick lifts his t-shirt off, he’s so solid, strong biceps, chest hair that gets darker condensed down the line of his stomach to where his jeans are unbuttoned. Art wants to lick it.

“Okay,” Patrick settles on the sofa, kicking off his shoes. “Give me that, you pretty little virgin and take those clothes off.”

Art hands him the condom a little embarrassed, and starts undoing his jeans. Kicks off his shoes and peels off his shirt so he’s only in boxers. Patrick bites open the packet and eases his jeans down and his cock out. Art takes shallow breaths watching him roll the condom on. It’s so big the condom is a magnum size and it fits snug. He’s heard horror stories about first times, even read a few on Reddit and he’s starting to feel a little panicked.

”Look at you.” Patrick says softly, eyes dragging slowly down Arts body. He pulls Art onto his thighs, god he has thick muscular thighs, Art can’t help wiggling. Patrick’s got him close so their cocks line up, and his palm is covered in lube and he’s gripping them both at the same time. It feels so fucking good Art thinks he might come too fast. He’s moaning, eyes squeezed shut when Patrick stops. Art opens his eyes to see Patrick wetting his fingers with more lube and slips a thick calloused finger back along Art’s entrance. Art feels himself seizing up as Patrick presses slowly inside.

“Take deep breaths,” Patrick whispers. Advice Art tries to follow but it just feels so crazy. He eases another finger in and Art tenses even more.

“Mm if your so fucking tight, I can’t fuck you sweetheart.”

“Does it hurt?” Art whispers.

Patrick takes a breath. “Yeah a little at first… but I think I can make it feel a little…uh better…”

Art shivers, his body suddenly overrun by pleasure as Patrick’s teasing his fingertips deep inside him. Art can hear himself moaning voice suddenly pitched so high he barely recognizes it. “Please… please… “he begs. “Please fuck me… fuck me… fuck me daddy.” Art gasps, losing himself as he’s riding the sensation.

“Fuck… what did you call me?” Patrick whispers.

Art bites his lip, his body heating up immediately with embarrassment. “Mm sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to… I meant like sugar…” He says softly as Patrick slowly pulls his fingertips out. Art is breathless. Patrick doesn’t look mad but his expression has gone heady.

“Fuck… I can be daddy if you need it,” Patrick breathes. “Come…sit on daddy’s dick. Holy shit. What are you doing to me?”

Art swallows, his stomach doing flip flops for the way Patrick says it. He sits up on his knees, he can feel Patrick lining up. It actually feels like a lot. Like way too much. Impossible to take. He’s got his eyes squeezed shut and watering feeling the insane stretch as he sinks so fucking slowly down on it.

“Oh god,” he keeps whispering over and over like a prayer.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes. His hands gripping Art’s waist.

He’s anxious moving slowly, gripping tightly, it’s too much, he’s too full. And Patrick starts to adjust him while gently rubbing his tummy. “Relax… lets try this angle,” Patrick whispers. Fucking into him in a way that he starts hitting that pleasure spot deep inside with even more intensity. “Good… good boy…that’s right…breathe… breathe… keep breathing… fuck…” Patrick coaches. And then slowly as it happens Art is moaning, bouncing on his lap just to feel it hit over and over and over and over again.

“I wanna… mmm I like it so much. wanna do it all the time,” Art moans nonsensically as he’s riding, not sure what’s happening, just that he’s seeing stars. “I wanna fuck you all the time. All the fucking time. wanna fuck you at school… during practice. In your bed. Wanna be your boy toy. Play with your big dick. Fuck me, oh fuck… fuck me daddy, daddy please. It feels so fucking good.”

“Jesus,” Patrick groans he barely grips Art’s cock and he’s coming loudly, spurts of it covering Patrick’s chest and his own. He can feel Patrick still pressing up into him, it suddenly feels like way too much. Every movement making him shake with how sensitive it feels and then Patrick stills, swearing over and over, gripping Art’s body tight and burying himself deep. Low gravelly sounds against Art’s ear.

”Fuck,” Patrick gasps, breathlessly. “Oh… god. You’re so… fuck I’m so screwed.”

“Mm,” Art collapses against his chest, running his fingers down Patricks soft chest hair all painted with his jizz. His knees are all sweaty and sticking to the leather but he doesn’t really care. He just wants to be close. Patrick is gently rubbing his lower back and it feels amazing. Art can feel him softening and slowly slipping out of him, he thinks he might fall asleep like this.

“You okay?” Patrick asks.

”Mmhm,” Art says.

“You sure?”

”Yeah. Can we do it again?”

“God,” Patrick laughs. “I need at least five minutes and I need you to get up cause I gotta piss.”

“No,” Art whines, unhappy about anything that means he won’t be warmed by Patrick's body heat even for a second. He wraps his arms around Patrick’s shoulders.

Patrick chuckles. “I can’t go anywhere?”

“No,” Art says. “You’re my pillow.”

“Guess I fucked your virgin ass good,” Patrick says.

“For an old guy,” Art says softly, smiling against Patrick’s throat.

“For your daddy, you little freak…” Patrick says gently, squeezing his ass. “Come on, get up or we’re gonna have a bigger mess to clean up.”

Art groans and unwraps his arms. “Can I come?”

“To piss?” Patrick raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Art nods.

Patrick smirks and rolls his eyes before gently curling his fingers into Arts hair. “Yeah sure, come on.”

Art kisses him and he sighs into Arts mouth. “I need a fucking cigarette too.”

“Can I stay over?” Art asks against his lips.

“Mm…” he ponders and sighs. “Fuck it I don’t know why I bother pretending to set boundaries with you…” he says, helping Art to his shaky feet. “Tashi will be home tomorrow afternoon. So you know… better not sleep too late.”

Art grins at him. “Does she know about me?”

“Does she know that after I finally got a good job as a tennis coach at my old school that I’m this close to losing it because I can’t help fucking my barely legal 20 year old star player? No actually. She doesn’t know.” He says dryly.

Art laughs. “I wouldn’t tell. But I mean imagine if I slept with you both. I’d learn so much about tennis.“

Patrick snorts, “This kinda talk is gonna make me take you home tonight actually…”

“Mm too late. You let me call you daddy,” Art grins. “You’re never getting rid of me.”

[coichii]

winter ✭

—(🎧)—> when han realizes something’s wrong with you before you realize it yourself

pairing - newbf!han x fem!reader

genre - comfort, cheers to me failing a test !! ☻

word count - 0.8k

warnings - implied seasonal depression & post hiatus writing

Maybe it’s the winter air, maybe it’s the warmth of the beach being replaced with snow fall of small ice crystals in the sky. You don’t know, but it’s making you feel off.

It’s a feeling quite indescribable, but if there were a you could equate to it, it would be numbness. The source? No idea.

It always comes and goes during the cold, a shiver cold air radiating through your body as the feeling of winter does.

It’s hard to stick to a routine during the winter. Getting up at 7:00am, taking walks, exercising, drinking water? You can pretty much say those are all in the garbage.

The only sense of consistency left in your life is Han, and even that is a fairly recent addition. Knowing him isn’t, but kissing him and cuddling him? Yeah, that’s different.

It hurts so say the feeling doesn’t go away with him. It definitely gets lighter and fades away, but it’s still there lingering.

It could be school too, and you’ve already noticed the A’s slowly fading into B’s, into C’s, and slowly but surely, D’s.

To say it’s taking a toll on you would be an understatement.

< —— >

Fuck. No no no.

31% is what the computer screen infront of you reads. A final score for a critical quiz in your major class.

A buzzing starts in your head, one that rings your ears like a gong had just been hit next to them. One that is so heavy that it begins to blur your vision alongside the fresh hot tears in your eyes.

As if it couldn’t get worse, a faint knock is soon heard on the door of your college dorm room. You begrudgingly get up, groaning as you quickly shut your laptop and wipe the moisture from your eyes.

God I swear. I can’t deal with my roommates right n-

“Y/n? I’ve been wondering why you weren’t answering my text. It’s been days.”

Definitely not who you were expecting to be on the other side of the door.

“O-oh hi. Come in.” You usher, pointing him and softly closing the door behind him.

“I didn’t know it’s been that long, I’m sorry, Hannie.” You say half heartedly. You did genuinely feel bad, but you can’t muster up the energy.

You move to peck a small kiss on his lips, but he places his hands on your cheeks to stop you. He places his forehead on yours, eyes staring into yours as if he’s trying to read what your lips won’t give up.

“Is everything ok?”

You can feel a sting make its way through your body, but you ignore it. You have to ignore it.

“Yeah, I am. I promise I’ve just been b-“

“Baby, don’t lie to me. I’ve known you for long enough to know when you are. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s been building up for so long, or it’s the look on his face or the tone of his voice. Whatever it is, it’s coming out.

“I-I really don’t know. I’m sorry Han, I don’t even know what I’m feeling.” You choke, a feeling of helplessness escaping its way from your heart.

“It’s like everything that I’ve been working for is falling apart in front of me, and it’s scary.” By now, he’s already wrapped his strong arms around your body, enveloping you in a comforting scent of lavender and love.

“I know. I know it’s scary. But you want to know something?” He proposes, and you sniffle and look at him, eyes filled to the brim with sincerity.

“You’re doing so well. You’re so smart, so strong, so independent. It’s okay to take breaks, it’s ok to struggle. Especially, it’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to have moments where you feel like every thing is falling apart, but it’s important that you know it’s not.”

Have you ever felt a feeling like an immense weight being lifted off your shoulders? A feeling like a deep breath even though there’s no oxygen? If not, that’s surely what you’re feeling now.

“I love you. I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you.” You sniffle, scrubbing dripping tears off with your fist.

“Don’t say sorry. I forgive you. Forgive me for not coming sooner.” He says, rubbing the silk of your hair in a comforting manner.

“You have nothing to be forgiven about.” You mumble, clutching a fist onto his shirt where you hold yourself, still in the same area from where he had come in.

“Now you know how I feel when you keep saying sorry.” He teases, a small chuckle coming out as well. “Cmon, let’s get you something to eat and I’ll help you with anything you need.”

“Ok” you nod, following him as he opens and walks out the door of your room.

That’s what it will be. Everything will be okay when you have him.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

@nekrosmos, I've had this in my inbox for ages but for some reason it won't let me post it due to "formatting"? Yeah, I remember when I first saw it in X I initially thought I was Barry Sloane and so went "this is Price getting hot and yearny for Nik".

Maybe Nik spent the weekend at John's place; cooking, drinking nice scotch and smoking expensive cigars, watching old movies, having slow, lazy sex in John's bed. Monday morning, he has to get up early for his take off slot, and nuzzles a kiss into John's hair before he leaves, promising to not leave it so long next time.

John still has a day of leave to himself and slithers out of bed for a run an hour or so later. He showers, gets most of the way dressed, and begins changing the sheets as his first chore of the day. But Nik's scent - his cologne, his musk - has soaked into them, and John lifts the pillowcase to his face without even thinking after he catches the faintest trace of it. The smell curls through his chest, down through his quivering belly, and finally coils in his groin; an urgent, desperate tightness.

That smell means pleasure, safety, the heat of Nik wrapped around him, the low, husky whisper of Russian in John's ear as Nik's hands map the scars and curves of his body. John crawls into his mattress, burying his face against the cotton with a soft moan, hips rocking down for the slightest friction against his swelling cock. Fuck, fuck. Desire rushes in a shiver down the length of his body, and he spreads his knees a little, squirming, nipples pulling tight as they brush the sheets. Nik's smell is like an aphrodisiac, teasing John to readiness even when the man himself is already over mainland Europe.

Before he knows it, John's laying on his back, the pillow case balled in his fist, rammed against his nose as he strokes his hard cock furiously through his open fly. Behind his eyelids, he imagines Nik's thick chest, conjures the phantom sensation of his strong fingers leaving marks on his hips as he pulls him back hard, sheathing his cock so deep that John can barely breathe; the slow grind of his hips rocking his heavy sac against John's, and the glorious drag of his thick shaft inside John's hole.

He gasps Nik's name into the cotton - Nik Nik Nik - like a damn prayer, his voice high and tight and so, so desperate. His hips lift, torso writhing as his heels dig into the mattress, the pleasure of his own hand no match for the memories of Nik.

Only six hours ago, Nik had been draped over his back, big arms around John's chest as he ground into his body, burying so deep John had felt him bulge out against the wall of his abdomen. John had spread his legs so wide, so wantonly, had begged Nik to fuck him raw and deep. One of those big paws had taken John in hand only when his moans had become broken, and teased him to a full body climax that had left him shaking and whimpering.

John spills over his fist, hips stuttering up weakly with each throbbing pulse of his prick, cum streaking the dark hair of his happy trail and chest as his eyes roll back. He pants in the aftermath, each breath sucking the cotton against his damp lips, Nik's cologne sitting heavy in the back of his throat.

Fuck, Nik owns him. No one else even compares. One day, John will pin Nik down for good and no longer have to make do with the last traces of his scent in his wake. One day.

[juno-of-wonderland]

Ace and/or Duece with an Outlander (SOTM: Cauldron) styled reader? A succession of vaguely the same person who continuously kills/gets killed by other versions of themselves to grow stronger.

note: The post is completely bugged and I don't know how to fix it, hence the strange format, sorry. About the request, I tried to search to get more information, but I didn't find anything, so it's all based on the explanation, I hope you can still appreciate it.

Warning: Mention of death and injuries, not revised

Here's the situation, you were calm in the dorm room, the ghosts and Grimm had gone somewhere, so you thought you could have some peace, but the universe is against it apparently, the window is broken and another you jumps in, already running towards you, you weren't going to let this one end your little peace in this new world.

Ace Trappola

-"What the fuck?! Why are you fighting someone like you?!"

he remains static, he tries to understand the moment first and decide who to help, until you shout his name, now he already knows who to grab

with Ace's help, you knock out your copy, you look at the damage done with the cuts on your body with the knife that was thrown in the corner a long time ago

he talks a lot, like a lot, he tries to help you with the wounds, helps you tie up your other version, but what the fuck man -"are you killing each other?! Why?!…ARE YOU GOING TO DO THIS WHEN I LEAVE?!" -He's disconcerted to say the least, he also wonders if some of the spells here can protect you like, I don't know, make you invisible to these guys, a 24-hour protective shield, anything -This man is working in secret for your protection, but he doesn't deny that he cares

Deuce Spade

-"T-two?…HEY STOP IT!" -He goes for it, he doesn't think beforehand, he just wants to separate the two of you -Because of that he gets punched, while you said his name, he's wondering if you would be offended if he hit you back, because this person has your face -But you take care of everything and after he's sure that your life isn't at risk, he asks for an explanation -…that's bad, he thinks, but he's never seen you going after him so maybe it's a choice, a shortcut to get stronger faster? He says out loud that you could gain strength with physical exercise and not… by killing each other.

-He promises that his fist will be your fist from now on and if he needs to be with you all the time, then that's okay, he's not letting someone he cares about get hurt.

[green-square-anon]

@staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty Sanguinius becoming a prostitute to fund his meth addiction (Love that sentence) was supposed to be part of the original post. I was gonna add something about how it was supposed to be funny but got sad. But then the post got too long. (Our harlem? Space harlem? Fuck if I know. Maybe that face is some time travel induced brain damage. Or maybe that's just the great methamphetangels face when he hasn't gotten that Zaza in a while or when he gets it) I'd also like to inform the unaware that the Gabriel from Mandela Catalouge is in fact, an angel. With wings. They just weren't shown.

Hey...

Did you guys know Sanguinius canonically got tempted to step into a Slaaneshi coffin that would corrupt him in exchange for curing his sons of the red thirst?

Guess what would have happened if he did.

Tell me promising to cure his sons of the red thirst only to give him a crippling addiction making him a shell of his former self isn't something Slaanesh would do. TELL ME.

Fuckers got the white thirst now. Or blue. If the warp can send Sanguinius to Harlem it can definitely send him to the breaking bad universe. There's a crack fic plot for yall.

Watched the Mandela catalog months ago and damn,

Sanguinius really went downhill after he started doing meth.

The entirely of the Mandela Catalouge is just Sanguinius in a universe where instead of the red thirst he is undergoing severe methamphetamine addiction.

Worse yet the only reason I remembered this again was because I was on the know your meme page for that harlem meme and saw this (in which he hillariously looks even more like Sanguinius), so I guess the great methampethangel became a prostitute.

[aquamarinebling]

Twitter trend w/ these two… teehee

[froschli96]

You know what, fuck it, I have to speak my truth! (this is gonna be a rant, so anyone who actually likes assassin's creed revelations and/or the secret crusade, be warned or maybe don't read this at all)

remember how altaïr talks to king richard at the end of ac1, and richard is like "[humans] come into the world kicking and screaming, violent and unstable. it is what we are. we cannot help ourselves."? and how altaïr answers "no. we are what we choose to be." and how that ACTUALLY has meaning bc he himself was "violent and unstable" at the beginning of the game but he has learned and is now CHOOSING to be a better person who cares about others and humanity at large? remember how his calmness and gentleness was something that he ACQUIRED over the course of the story?

and remember how in revelations they then suddenly had a PRE-AC1 altaïr say about the first of his targets "no man should pass from this world without knowing some kindness." and be all wise and calm and collected during a nice little chat with al mualim, who suddenly acts all fatherly? (like, this is suddenly supposed to be a positive relationship? what??)

also, during the confession the target says to altair: "you put too much faith in the hearts of men, altaïr. [...] humans are weak, base, and petty." and altaïr answers: "no. our creed is evidence to the contrary." KJASJFJDKL???? like, it’s almost insulting how close this exchange is to the one with richard. you know, the one that was actually earned after a whole game of character development. like WTF??? cool congrats now that development means nothing. like, apparently that was just altaïr reverting BACK to being the exemplary assassin who understands and believes in the creed that he was apparently just born as. (i also hate how having a young inexperienced altaïr saying this implies that altaïr's faith in humanity is a sign of naivete instead of a sign of the wisdom he has gained after being confronted with counter arguments for a whole game, and also something that distinguishes the assassins from the templars who use humanity's supposed wickedness to justify controlling them like in AC1, but whatever)

altaïr’s development in AC1 mattered BECAUSE he is not NATURALLY a good person, it actually said something about humanity's capacity for both bad AND good and how humans don't have to be forced to be good through mind control bc they can by their own free will choose to be better when taught how and when allowed the freedom to grow. but no. apparently altaïr has just always been calm, wise and gentle. and he just sort of forgot about that during AC1 bc…. ? bc of adha?? bc of abbas???

oh don’t get me started on the whole abbas thing. (it doesnt even make sense that abbas is so hung up about his father and "his family’s honor", like what about the whole point of al mualim not allowing parents to be close to their children bc it would make them weak? like, my dude, you’re not supposed to HAVE any family aside from the brotherhood)

they used the throwaway character that had like 5 lines and made him into altaïr’s main antagonist in revelations… like, abbas wasn’t supposed to be this ONE dude who had personal beef with altaïr, he was just supposed to show how while altaïr’s revered by many, a lot of his brothers also hate him, bc 1) altaïr is a shitty person at this point and 2) bc there’s no real feeling of community and family in this version of the brotherhood, but just a pervasive sense of competition and jealousy — these assassins don’t care about their goal of safeguarding humanity bc they’re too hung up on petty squabbles and divided by rivalries (you know, the things that made malik hate altaïr even before solomon’s temple and that he overcomes in the end which enables him to forgive and to reconcile with altaïr so they can work together and stop al mualim? (you ever just think about "we are one. as we share the glory of our victories, so too should we share the pain of our defeat. in this way we grow closer. we grow stronger." and cry? bc i do. all the time. malik, the man that you are))

and now abbas is altaïr’s childhood best friend turned lifelong enemy?? like, bowden bent over backwards to come up with an explanation for why altaïr is an arrogant ass at the beginning of AC1, when the explanation is right there: he was raised to kill without asking questions and was constantly praised for how good he is at murder, which resulted in him becoming arrogant and disregarding human life. like, it doesn’t have to be some shakespearean family feud type shit. and guess what, this "simple" explanation actually plays into the story’s themes, who’da thunk!

(like, abbas might not have been a "fleshed out" character in AC1, but he had a specific function and now that function is gone. mr bowden, mr mcdevitt, you know characters are allowed to simply exist to tell us something about their worlds and the systems they live in and sometimes that’s more important and also more interesting than having every single character have a detailed backstory to explain all their behaviors, right?)

with all of this revelations loses all nuance in regards to the levantine brotherhood and also the creed in general. like, altaïr being a master assassin at the beginning despite being a terrible person and not actually understanding the creed is a criticism of the brotherhood and the creed itself. like, it said something about the order that someone like altaïr was able to get that high in rank, simply bc he's good at killing, which also tells us what is considered important in the al mualim era assassin order. when you make altaïr’s arrogance the result of his personal conflicts instead of how we was raised by a brotherhood that only valued one's ability to kill, you lose that characterization of the assassin order itself!

and by suddenly making al mualim a semi good "father figure" you also downplay his manipulation of not only altaïr but all those under his care. (altaïr says something about al mualim being "as a father" to him exactly twice in the codex, but he doesn’t mean by that that he WAS a father to him, what he means is that he was the CLOSEST THING he had bc HE DID NOT HAVE PARENTS, not because his mother died in childbirth and his father was executed when he was young btw, BUT BECAUSE IT WASN’T ALLOWED, like his parents actually lived but weren’t allowed to be close to him, he says he came to view al mualim’s "weak and dishonest" love as enough and even better BECAUSE HE HAD NOTHING ELSE, BECAUSE AL MUALIM ISOLATED HIS ASSASSINS FROM THEIR FAMILIES. al mualim "loved" him bc he was good at killing people for him! hm, i wonder if this could be trying to say anything about cults and indoctrination and the inherent contradiction in fighting for peace and free will by taking children away from their parents and raising them to become killers?? like, altaïr wasn't ~the special orphan boy~ taken in by al mualim bc his father died a hero's death, it was "the way of the order" to have al mualim be the closest thing to a parental figure for everyone to ensure absolute loyalty! altaïr saying al mualim was like his father is not supposed to make you go "oh, he must have actually been a good guy for altaïr to consider him a father", it should make you go "oh that's kinda fucked up that he considers the dude who made him into a killing machine and who manipulated him a sort of father figure"!)

and then in revelations they suddenly portray that relationship as positive and healthy??? like, it would be one thing to give it some nuance by delving into the psychology behind al mualim’s "love" and maybe showing how al mualim did care about altair in a complicated, fraught sort of way (like, you know, there’s a lot of interesting things you could say about al mualim at several points addressing altaïr as "my child" in AC1 and how that parallels Garnier referring to the people he drugged and abused as his "children", and what that says about how the templars view the people who they say they want to save and in whose best interests they supposedly act (in any case, al mualim doesn’t use that phrase because he has any real parental feelings but rather to patronize and to invalidate any objections, like in a "mother knows best" way))

but they even fucking DARE to parallel that relationship with that of altaïr and darim in revelations, by having the reflection in the puddle of darim hugging altaïr showing altaïr hugging al mualim…. like their relationship wasn’t inherently abusive but just tragically cut short because al mualim was just "corrupted by the apple"… like WHAT???? so it’s not the very real problems like grooming, manipulation and indoctrination and the hierarchical structure of the brotherhood itself (all of which are antithetical to the assassin ideology), it was just the evil apple all along. great. that’s DEFINITELY a lot more interesting.

god im sorry i really dont want to spread negativity but this is driving me INSANE. like, somebody please tell me im not crazy bc i feel like somehow most of the fandom is in agreement that revelations and the secret crusade have better storytelling and characterization than ac1.

SPEAKING OF WHICH, can we talk about how, even IF we completely ignore AC1 and treat revelations altaïr as his own character…. the narrative still doesn’t really work?

basically, the whole point of his story in rev is that "he gave his whole life to the brotherhood", this obsession led to him not using his time with his family which has him ending up dying alone in a dark library and this in turn makes ezio reevaluate his life choices…. except. he doesn’t? neglect? his family? or whatever? like, his devotion to the assassins is sort of painted as this tragic flaw that leads to a lonely death bc it supposedly comes at the cost of his family, but… his wife has joined the assassins, (at least) one of his sons is in the brotherhood and even when he goes to protect the assassins against the mongols, he takes his family with him (except for the son who stays behind bc he has a family of his own and who, ironically, ends up dying bc of that)… like, you can’t describe altaïr as a good husband and father in the database and have his son tell him that "everything that is good in me began with you, father" when they say goodbye, and then want to make us believe that he put his family behind the brotherhood and that that is a character flaw that leads to his tragedy.

because you HAVE to have a character’s tragedy be the result of a character flaw. like. that is how tragedies work. otherwise it just becomes tragedy for the sake of tragedy which is… boring bc it has no purpose. and we know it is SUPPOSED to have purpose bc ezIO FUCKING QUITS BEING AN ASSASSIN AFTER WITNESSING IT!

it’s like they want to have their cake and eat it, too — they didn’t want to actually make altaïr a bad husband/father, but still wanted to make his life a tragedy where he loses his family which is why instead they outsource all responsibility to abbas who now has to be the reason for ALL the deaths.

like, they try to make at least maria’s death kind of sort of the result of altaïr’s rashness or whatever but like… these guys KILLED THEIR SON and TOLD HIM THAT ALTAÏR HAD ORDERED HIS DEATH. like, altaïr losing it in response to that is not rash, it’s fucking logical and justified! if anything the scene made me angry at maria for trying to stop him. like, GIRL, he was YOUR son too??? but god forbid we give female characters actual real emotions, she has to fill the role of "voice of reason who dies for altaïr’s man pain" i fucking guess.

like, it’s this weird mix where his tragedy is simultaneously painted as his own fault but also not really bc abbas is the one responsible for all the shit that happens. it just… it just doesn’t really go together.

the only way to make his story make sense narratively and to give it actual purpose is by looking at it in the context of ezio’s story, bc the things he sees in altaïr’s memories are supposed to be a revelation (ha!) to ezio specifically. and i guess that’s maybe the crux of it all — altaïr’s story in revelations was conceived of first and foremost to support ezio’s story and development. which is probably also why many people maybe don’t notice bc, having skipped ac1 and started with ac2, the majority of people mostly care only about ezio and only really appreciate altaïr’s story in as far as it serves to push ezio forward. (tho i’ve also seen a few people say that ezio is also written kind of weird in rev, but i’ve never really been an ezio girly myself so i can’t speak to the truth of that)

like, altaïr dying alone in the library doesn’t really have to make sense for his character, i guess, bc it’s only really supposed to be a cautionary tale for ezio.

so, i guess, for once, they actually had a MAN dying for another man’s character development, which is pretty woke actually. ubisoft, i take everything back jksdsfjhgdsahfhsdhfghfdsgjhsdgjh

[katabay]

trains :)

this is a very rough and scribbly comic, but sometimes that's all a comic is going to end up being lmao. the guy with the jacket is darren, glasses is andy. not featured, andy's dead brother who nevertheless insists on haunting the subtext

the main thing I wanted to draw was the train tho

bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost ⭐ cara.app

[gemharvest]

wyd!Boyfriend (Beef) Reference Sheet

Extra info will be under a cut to spare y'alls dashboards, but here the guy is. The Beef Bastard. For anyone who desires to draw him.

-----

Design Notes:

Palette is flexible; can be drawn in this palette, with canon BF's palette, or given a custom palette. Colored lines are not a requisite, but if you do pure black lines while using the ref's palette, please keep everything using that color the same color (ie; his piercing, opt. nail color, sweater on Christmas outfit, etc).

Shirt does not have to be tucked! I mostly drew it like that just to have the belt visible; up to you if you want to draw it half-tucked or untucked. idc

Shading colors are optional, I just have them there because I like using them; I personally still draw the shade in on his hat/ hair, but that's just how I like doing it. His hair base can be either color tbh it doesn't matter much to me, I just have it marked as the lighter color bc that's what feels right to me personally.

Would have a square face shape & brown eyes when not as stylized as the ref. I do not have a specific eye color picked out, as I do not see myself drawing it, but anything works as long as it's a darker brown.

-----

His playlist is at the end of this post (both Spotify and YouTube versions), but if you just want to hear his sample songs, here are links (+ 2 honorable mentions):

(fw + eyestrain) WHOKILLEDXIX - Kismet

Marina - Are You Satisfied?

(fw + insect & xray clips) Will Wood - Cicada Days

Twenty One Pilots - Fake You Out

100 gecs - 745 sticky

-----

Base Info:

Cisgender bisexual (he/him); polyamorous.

Has: ADHD with RSD; anger issues that usually come out to “protect” himself (can be to “protect” others as well, tho); an inferiority complex that makes him highly competitive & masks as a superiority complex.

Astraphobic (fear of thunder & lightning) as well as having a fear of abandonment. Other than that, he’s comically fearless; acting on impulse rather than any sense.

Has a bad acne problem; some on his face, but the worst of it is on his back.

Wears loose clothes, and kinda just throws on whatever he finds first. (Which tends to be his usual outfit.)

Slightly chubby, but his clothes make it harder to tell.

Street-smart, in spite of his general stupidity. Able to hold himself pretty well in a fight, as long as he’s thinking clearly.

Fairly strong as well, though he doesn’t make an active effort to work out. Stupids his way into being able to lift shit, I guess.

Shaves his face (prefers the look) but doesn’t bother with the rest of his body. 👍

-----

Headcanons:

(there is a lot here, I do not blame you if you don't read all of these 🙏)

Stims with a lot of repetitive hand movements (shaking, snapping motion w/o sound, opening and closing); beeps are sometimes vocal stims as well.

Would benefit from chewlery dear god, but would also need high strength ones. Maybe one day someone will get him a chew stim.

Enjoys high energy & loud music. Obviously a rap fan, but would enjoy breakcore/ speedcore/ hyperpop and similar genres, as well as things like YTPMVs or stupid mashups.

His beeping is not a language, as is the same in canon, though it generally has enough of a rhythm to it that people can get the gist of the intended words the longer they're around him.

95% of the time he speaks in beeps, and if he needs to relay info to someone who doesn't understand it, he'll write his words down (as long as it's an option).

Not comfortable speaking regularly, but can do it if the situation calls for it. Takes a lot to get to that point though, and was way less confident in his words when he was younger.

His beeping can also be a vocal stim, as mentioned previously, which can throw conversation off. Beeps will also lose their proper rhythm if he's upset/ super excited and etc., making them harder to understand.

Loves small animals, rats being a particular example, and is also fascinated by insects.

Usually just ignores insects, but picks up a catch & release habit w/ ones that get inside from GF.

When they get a shared apartment, he's the one who spends the most time in it, usually alone and working on music. Sometimes he gets overwhelmed by missing his partners being around, but manages it well knowing they'll be back soon.

Likes involving his partners with his music. Most of his album covers are art by GF, and will ask Pico for input on mixing or just general thoughts on how it sounds. Will sometimes get them to do vocals as well (takes a lot of coaxing for Pico to agree, so GF features more often than he will).

Usually prefers his nails unpainted, but will let GF paint them to match with her and/ or Pico.

Before Pico entered their relationship, he had his nails painted more frequently to match her. Went down in frequency because Pico really likes it & it became something the two do together. BF is not excluded, he’s just more indifferent about it whereas Pico and GF actively like painted nails.

Prefers black above all, then blue, but also enjoys red or green for his partners.

HUGE issue with picking at acne/ scabs. Has tons of little scars from doing it.

Clingy as shiiiittt to those he’s close to. Will not be the first to let go of a hug and will be content to cling to someone for hours; need to take care of his body be damned.

Related; he has issues wanting to stay up to work on projects instead of get proper sleep, but is pretty easily convinced to go to bed if his partners are around. Because cuddle time babyyyyyy.

Can’t cook for shit. Is like a Sim with 0 cooking skill and insanely bad luck. Best dude can do is make a sandwich/ salad/ anything that doesn’t require the oven or stove, and even then he sticks to simple things because he wants to do other shit.

Relied a lot on fast food/ pre-made meals when on his own. Once moved in with his partners, Pico cooks a lot of the meals & eventually is able to teach BF and GF enough of the basics to where they can prep stuff on days he’s gone.

BF is way slower to take to cooking than GF is; ADHD partially at fault (not finding it “worth it” = not going out of his way to cook still = learns way slower, which also makes it more frustrating). He gets it eventually tho it’s Okay.

Can be kinda an ass to those he doesn’t know, though more because he’s not thinking about it than actually being malicious. Though if he realizes he’s coming off rude he doesn’t quiiiiteee care. This behavior bites him in the ass w/ how he thinks about himself but whatever he’s not thinking in the moment.

Can sometimes be hostile when first meeting people, though usually isn’t too bad.

(RGBFverse exclusive, he is super hostile to the other BFs out of confusion, and then lashes out to keep himself from getting close, because he assumes he will be let down if he does. This later feeds into a fear that, after he becomes calm around them, none of them really like him, because why would they, after how he acted?)

Has spirals related to his inferiority complex where he begins lashing out at others to push them away, because he feels they’re going to leave anyways. These don’t happen often, but it’s really hard for him to pull himself out of it when they do. Feels he’s wearing others’ patience thin, but he appreciates those who stick through it nonetheless.

List subject to change, most likely w/ new additions as I remember things I forgot, or just clarifying anything I may have worded poorly.

-----

3 songs didn't make it to the Spotify playlist because they aren't up on there. Otherwise, both have the same songs & are ordered the same.

[my-current-obsession]

every time i see bakudeku compared to k/ance (now specifically in terms of them getting shafted in the ending and/or accused of queerbaiting) i take psychic damage

[deadqueernoldor]

Thinking thoughts about those from Cuivienen and how they later treated the Valar, especially after Cuivienen was destroyed.

I imagine a foundation of sorrow and a layer of betrayal and pettiness. They had promised safety. And how did it turn out? Kin of Tata and Tatie their first leaders, slain in Valinor by the Dark Hunter from which the Valar promised protection in Valinor.

And then, the War of Wrath comes and with it the destruction of Cuivienen.

If any of those were re-embodied in Aman, I wonder if they make it a point to always turn their back to Valar and Maiar. I wonder if they only speak in the tongue they had first devised all those millennia ago and spoke in Cuivienen before time and different kindreds changed the tongue, not Sindarin or Quenya from the Great Journey's time or later. I wonder if they sing songs in their ancient tongue, songs about the beauty and unsullied health of Cuivienen every time any of the Ainur are near.

I wonder if the Valar feel any shame when those who they once looked upon in wonder and love gaze back at them with indifference or disgust.

[deadstruble]

i have free will and can draw whatever i want. nobody can stop me

(ive literally never drawn any of these characters before please be nice to me)

[whiteredrose13]

AAAAAA, OKAY-- @persephone-s-moon I could not find their updated refs for the life of me, so, woe, busted old concept art be upon ye. (Excuse the wonky proportions, these were done on my phone.)

Shortest rundown I can manage:

Did someone order a tragic throuple with time-travel/reincarnation shenanigans and a side of hurt/comfort/fluff?

Candavata Bhatia: Elven queen, from the kingdom of Sona, and the baddest bitch to ever live. In order to prove herself worthy of holding the crown over her sisters, she needed to channel one of the gods. So, not only did she channel one, she called upon Bijalee, the embodiment of lightning and storms--and the most difficult one to channel due to her wild and hazardous nature. She has been the only person to do so, aside from the First Queen. This earned her the titles of Storm Bringer and Lightning Tamer. She and Qamar are married and have been best friends since childhood. Can you tell I love her?

(Side note: Editing this on my laptop and holy ashy tone, Batman. Hoping it's just my screen because my girl does NOT look like this, I promise--)

Qamar Abn awaa: Werejackal prince, devout cleric of Layl, goddess of the night and medicine, and the definition of the "I'm a healer, but--" meme. He managed to show both great power and promise from an early age when, during a political visit to the Sona royal court, he used his knowledge of anatomy to turn one of Candavata's would-be assassins inside out. This is where he and Candi's marriage was arranged. He is of a generally very sunny disposition, which often makes people underestimate him, as they assume he's useless in serious situations--but, when shit hits the fan, he's the one you want to be next to. (I started designing him when I did not understand how to map out locs or braids. Qamar, my prince, I am so sorry, I swear I will do right by you and fix whatever monstrosity I gave you.)

Vincenzo Virago: Vampire duke. The intersection of an emotionally constipated killing machine and massive nerd failure. He's head over heels for both Candi and Qamar, but he doesn't feel like he can tell them, due to the fact that he views himself as unlovable, both wanting and growing jealous of them. (He is completely oblivious to the fact that they are also in love with him.) He's terrified of turning into his father, but it seems like everything he does only turns him further down that path. He's a warlord. He's a wet cat. He needs therapy.

It's a stable, constant dynamic. You never see one without the other. Where Qamar goes, Candi is right beside him, and Vince is right behind them. Whenever something goes wrong, usually they're at the center of it, all having different roles in the trouble. Candi, the planner, Qamar, the keen lookout, and Vince, the instigator. He keeps the two of them grounded, on their toes, and they do what they can to keep him away from his father. Even after they graduate and take their places in their respective castes, they stay in touch.

The story itself begins at the worst part of their relationship.

At this point, Candavata and Qamar have been married and are tending to their responsibilities as king and queen of their joined empire. Though they try to stay in touch with Vincenzo, it's difficult--and Vince doesn't make it easy, either. Over the years, he becomes withdrawn. He stops answering their letters, he refuses to see them when they come in person, every time. After a while, they stop trying. Not because they don't love him, they do, but there's only so much you can do when a person doesn't want (or doesn't think they deserve) help.

Vincenzo, after years of sitting with the jealousy and battling his father's horrendous treatment, broke. He didn't just spiral, he nose-dived, doubling down on every bit of gossip and rumor, until he's changed and warped into something even he can't recognize. He shuts out Candi and Qamar. Maybe he doesn't want to taint them, maybe he thinks this is how it was meant to go, maybe he can't stand their gentle hands or the pitying look in their eyes. Maybe he just wants the excuse. Whatever it is, Vincenzo becomes a monster, with blood on his hands.

In the end, Candi and Qamar had to be the ones to put him down.

Which is where we get into the time/reincarnation fuckery.

Because, when the pain fades and Vincenzo opens his eyes, expecting to see whatever eternal damnation looks like, he sees his university bedroom. Littered with textbooks and letters from Candi and Qamar, and his graduation robes hanging on the back of the door.

He's got a second chance to go back and unfuck everything, but only time will tell if he'll succeed or end up exactly where he was before.

Something, something, breaking cycles and being open with your loved ones, allowing yourself to be loved by others and yourself, and sometimes men are at their best covered in blood and a little bit pathetic.

(Oh, and, you want a really fun fact? Vince isn't the only one who remembers the original timeline.)

[carefulfears]

omg rm9 was kinda fun To Me. i enjoyed mulder and scully going on a sushi date, scully being SOOOOO embarrassingly down bad for a man she’s known over 20 years, and of course the restaurant attacking them because mulder is a bad tipper. it’s also just nice to see them living life, you know??

i had a blast with rm9 tbh, a classic s11 well! have no idea what happened there! but i enjoyed myself! episode. just talked about it a bit but yes!! just seeing them living life!! literally the majority of s11 isn't even them going on cases they're just like. existing. and falling into Situations. in rm9 all they wanted to do was go to this sushi place. scully is of course always embarrassing as hell but what i loved loved loved loved about her in rm9 (and consequently throughout s11) is that last moment at the diner when they're both on their phones, and she puts hers away and just kinda leans over to his shoulder and takes his hand, and he puts his phone down.

i was so floored to see her do that, to ask for his attention like that. so much of the original series is scully...almost quietly suffocating, sometimes? being on the edge of his myopia and focus? wanting him to see her so bad, and then lashing out (READ: fucking serial killers) to either rebel, or get him to notice? but it's been a long time and he has been many more things to her since and now she just grabs his hand and makes him turn to her. in forehead sweat when she whines that he needs to feed her or she's leaving!! and then she does leave!!! in plus one when they aren't even "back together" yet, and she sneaks into his motel room and asks him to hold her.

scully in the revival has left him. she has struck out on her own, had her own career, lived on her own, been a doctor. and she's back and they're back because there's work to be done, and because, as james wong says: "She’s in love with him that way. She had a different career as a doctor, but she came back, because this is so important to him—she’s coming back to be there for him."

she's back, and they're back, because they're always choosing each other, and they've proven it, and they've done the work. she complains about his stakeouts. she cracks jokes about being sure he's on his meds!! she knows that their son is "guiding" them both, somehow. she doesn't question it.

she's embarrassingly down bad even after 25 years because she's never anything but adored him, but there's so much more availability now. she can openly check him out and invite him back into her room and giggle at him and sleep on his jacket in bars. she used to cry, every single time that he was present with her. she used to be so overwhelmed that she couldn't speak, when he was focused on her. this is the inverse reaction of the stability and peace that mulder has found, there's a steady foundation for scully to grow on.