#back from hiatus and completely crazy

[kookiestarlight]

Lines of fate: 01 | jjk

➵ pairing: tattooist!jungkook x f. reader

➵ genre: apocalypse au, exes to lovers (?) dad!jungkook, survival, angst, smut

➵ summary: the last thing Jungkook ever imagined was an outbreak that turned the dead into the living. But even more unexpected is seeing you—an ex he’s known nothing about in the past four years—with a small child who bears a striking resemblance to himself. As Jungkook grapples with the shock and the city spirals into chaos, the two of you are thrust back together, forced to confront unresolved feelings, long-buried truths, and the horrors of the deadly virus taking over.

➵ word count: 11.9k

➵ warnings: swearing (jk says fuck way too much), graphic depictions of violence and death, blood and gore, seizures, virus and zombies ofc, brief mentions of alcohol consumption.

➵ series masterlist

➵ a/n: it’s finally here!! <3 sorry this was postponed way longer than expected, all I can say is: life :,) anyway!! posting my writing again after years on hiatus definitely feels nerve wracking lol. this idea has been in my wips for literally years so I’m so excited to finally be sharing it with you all!! I would greatly appreciate your feedback and thoughts as it is something quite different from anything I usually write (it’s definitely been a kick in the ass) it’ll also really help me stay motivated to continue writing it. thank you for all the hype and excitement you showed for this fic before it was even released cause like hello?? that’s crazy to me😭 thanks for always showing my stories love and support🫶🏻 I’ve taken inspiration from all the zombie movies and videogames I’ve ever seen and played over the years (thanks dad). I should also mention, I had a very thorough plot for this planned out and it kinda went to shit in the process of writing so we’re kind of going off vibes only and 20% of the plot I had originally planned so yeah, bare with me🤪 I also want to say, updates on this will most likely be slow, but I will try my best to get them out as fast I can for you🙏 now that that’s over, I hope you enjoy this series as much as I am enjoying writing it!! this chapter is just the very beginning <33

The autumn sun filters through the large window with an amber glow as you take a slow sip of your coffee, the warm bitterness spreading in your chest as you attempt to chase some kind of comfort. But the loud hum of the city just outside and the muffled chatter of the bustling cafe are very much a grounding reminder of where you are — and where you really wish you weren't.

Your gaze travels down to your daughter sitting on the booth beside you, her little legs swinging off the seat contentedly as she picks away at her blueberry muffin. Completely oblivious to your ongoing little inner torment. Her big eyes flicker up to meet yours, brimming with glee. Brushing a crumb off her cheek, you force a little smile for her. 

Like a dull sting under your skin, you feel how little teeth of guilt gnaw away at you, not only because it’s been almost impossible to offer her a genuine smile in the past two days since you stepped foot in this dammed place, but because you simply wish you could share the same excitement as she does, and perhaps…feel more positive about this whole situation. For her.

But all you’ve been able to feel is guilt.

An incessant amount of it. Guilt and fear. Slowly brewing up inside you like some sort of poison that has had you feeling a little sick to your stomach.

”You’re spiraling again.” Hoseok pulls you out of your absentminded state, studying you over the rim of his half finished iced americano.

You blink. You often tend to forget how well he’s capable of reading you. Though you suppose that’s a skill acquired with nearly twenty years of friendship, and an unavoidable consequence of growing up constantly together, practically like siblings. 

Hoseok has been the only constant in your life for as long as you can remember, like a brother to you — conjoined at the hip as his mother always used to joke. It all began when you moved next door. With your parents always working late and often times far away from home, Hoseok's home slowly became your second one — the place you spent most of your childhood and adolescence and formed some of your fondest memories. A place where you were never alone.

You do suppose it’s no surprise the years and the unbreakable bond you’ve formed have given you exceptional abilities to know when something is off with just a simple glance. But it's never less surprising.

The corners of your mouth tug upwards into a tiny smile at his words, brows pinched in a pathetic attempt to hide your truth. “I am not.”

“You are. You’re thinking too much,” he stirs the ice in his drink with the straw, eyes flicking up to meet yours again. “Which if I may remind you, is one of your fatal flaws.”

You scoff, only slightly offended as you watch him take a slow sip. Pushing your sunglasses further up your head as you lean back. “Thinking too much is not my fatal flaw.” 

He’s may very likely be right about that, but of course, you’d never actually admit it.

Hoseok snorts, clearly unconvinced. His voice just above a whisper when he murmurs, “Right. Sorry. It’s definitely lying.”

Before you can argue, he leans forward to accept some crumbs of muffin Jieun is so eagerly offering him. The sight tugs at something deep in your chest, watching his expression soften to mush as he thanks her with that brightest, tender smile he only ever uses for her before he brings his attention back to you. 

“If it weren’t your fatal flaw, you’d actually be enjoying that overpriced coffee and oh—, maybe being reunited with your best friend again. I haven’t even seen you in like three months.” He shakes his head in utter disappointment, sitting back with a dramatic sigh.

“Hobi, I am so thrilled to be reunited with you, truly.” You roll your eyes ever so slightly and place a hand on your heart rather sarcastically as you say it, but deep down you hope he knows you’re only half joking. No one has done for you more than what hoseok has in the time you’ve known him.

You suppose all the change has got you in a rather sentimental state. But you bury it away. Hoseok deserves a nice time out with a friend for once too. He’s seen enough of your tears.

“Yeah?” he leans in, studying you with mock concern. Though not falling for it even a bit. "That's your thrilled face? You sure about that?” You almost laugh in response, but then, he shifts, looking more serious than just seconds ago. “You know,” he pauses, crossing his arms over his chest. “For someone who finally landed a nice new job and has everything working out, you don’t look all that thrilled to me, actually. That’s all.”

You press your lips together and glance down at your coffee, suddenly the truth a little too hard to face. You should be happy. He’s right. Because things really are starting to look up for you again. Everything you’ve spent the last few months wishing for has finally become a reality. And yet, you can’t shake the fact that there’s a deep buried sense of dread that seems to be getting in the way of that, a familiar fear that's been present for years, but only intensified since you stepped foot in Seoul again. 

Hoseok follows your gaze, watching you carefully, then nudges your foot under the table gently. “Come on.” He murmurs softly, eyebrows raised gently. “What is it?”

You suppose your real fatal flaw is your emotions showing up as flashy neon subtitles over your head apparently, or the fact you are simply terrible at hiding them, because Hoseok doesn't budge. He sees right through your little facade — always has. And as much as you know he is a great listener and that he genuinely cares to hear it all, always ready to give you a helping hand in any way he possibly can, you just don’t want to sound ungrateful. Not when anyone else in your position would be feeling over the moon right now.

Besides, you’ve never liked burdening him, or anyone for that matter. Never wanted to add more weight to the heavy things he already carries himself. He deals with so much of that at work already. So many problems significantly worse than your own worries. So you simply shake your head, putting on a small smile once again in hopes to appease him.

“I’m alright, Hobi. It's just…strange. Being back here. Overwhelming, I guess,” you admit, though only to half of the truth. “It’s so calm on the island. I suppose I got used to it. Everything here is just so intense. But that's all.” You cross your arms on the table as you gaze out at the busy streets. Hoping you don't sound as pathetic as you feel. Though in truth, this whole things isn't just strange. It’s all actually fucking terrifying.

In many ways it seemed like nothing here had changed since the day you left four years ago. The cityscape is as bustling as you remember – a stark contrast to the quietude and stillness of Jeju, where you had been building your new life up until now. People in suits rush back and forth and push into each other with no care, everything is always shadowed by a maze of buildings that don't seem to have an end. Cars weave through traffic like they want to crash into each other, and neon signs and billboards still flicker blindingly even in the daytime. 

The fact that everything remains the same, terrifies you. The rush, the stress, the chaos. That constant hustle and bustle that seems suffocating. It wasn't the reason why you left. but it was certainly a factor that made your life here something you wanted to escape from. It feels like stepping back into the life you thought you’d left behind for good. Like stepping onto a moving treadmill, when you no longer know how to run. Not sure if you’ll ever find your place here again.

Hobi hums in understanding, and the warmth in the familiarity of his smile helps lessen the knot that's been forming in your stomach all morning. And though you've only let out a tiny portion of what's on your mind, you already feel like you can breathe with more ease.

Sometimes, it’s not so bad that he can see right through you. Because you also tend to forget he’s the only one that truly gets you, understands you when even you struggle to understand yourself, and has never once been one to judge you, no matter how small or ridiculous it may be.

“Yeah, I get it. It can be overwhelming.” He nods slowly, letting the words settle. “But if I were you, I’d be damn proud of myself.” His expression is calm and his words full of sincerity as he speaks. “You did what you had to do, and now you’re doing it again. Making more big changes. Really tough decisions, and I know that’s not easy.” He pauses. “But you've always made it after all. This time won't be different. Besides, think about this, we’re close to each other now. I’ll be here for anything you guys need, you know that.”

Your heart softens at his comforting words, and the reassurance feels like it melts some of the tension off your shoulders. And for just a split second you feel that roar of confidence, thinking about everything you've accomplished, but it's not lasting, and deflates with the weight of your heavier thoughts.

You want to believe what he says — you really do. For your daughter's sake. Because this is finally your chance to start over and build something better. To give Jieun the life she deserves, something stable, a chance to thrive in a place full of new opportunities. 

A fresh start. 

After all, isn't that all you've ever been chasing?

You don’t want to allow your fears and the past to come in the way of that. But it's never so simple. At least, definitely not here — definitely not for you.

Because the truth is, being in Seoul again feels like roaming a haunted city. Tainted and plagued by shadows from the past, by who you used to be, and everything and everyone you left behind all those years ago when you ran and didn’t dare to look back. Being here now, you can’t shake the feeling — the apprehension and fear that everything you once left behind is lurking around the corner, ready to jump out and haunt you, making everything you've finally built up crumble to pieces once again. This place just gives you an indescribable feeling of…dread. Eeriness even. Enough for it to linger gut deep with a painful sense of discomfort that hasn’t eased since the day you arrived. As if you can never truly let your guard down.

But after all, it was an opportunity you couldn’t pass up, even if it meant returning to the city you swore you’d never step foot in again. The offer came at just the right moment, a lifeline after months of uncertainty and dead-ends. After losing your job, and endless nights crying yourself to sleep with the heavy burden of becoming a failure of a mother and not knowing how to make ends meet. You practically cried with joy the morning you finally got the call, and ignored the pit that formed in your stomach when you heard where it required you to move to. It had felt like you were about to reach the peak of a mountain, only to drop all the way back down to the bottom. But it was a steady paycheck, and a chance to finally give Jieun some stability. It wasn’t glamorous or grand — a position in a small marketing firm. But it was enough to rebuild. The breakthrough you so badly needed to start over and secure a future for your little girl. 

How could you possibly turn it down?

That was your biggest and only goal in life.

There was nothing you wouldn’t do for her. So you knew in that very instant you had to take it. Even if it meant returning to the place that broke you beyond repair. So you packed up your life and now, here you are. Back where you never thought you’d be. So far from the tranquility of the home you had made for yourself in a secluded tiny seaside town four years ago. Where you were happy. Where you didn't live in constant fear.

“I know this is what I need right now,” you speak softly, more to yourself than anything. You reach out, gently brushing your fingers through Jieun's baby soft hair, watching as she focuses intently on her muffin, completely unaware of the heaviness of the conversation. “I just don’t want to mess anything up…the job, you know, our new life here. I want to get this right. I don’t want anything, getting in the way of that.” You swallow thickly, fingers tightening around the mug of coffee in front of you, and Hoseok knows exactly what you mean by that. You hesitate, letting out a quiet breath before speaking again. “I know there's so many opportunities for us here but…I was happy in Jeju. Jieun was happy.”

Hoseok nods, slow and understanding. “I know you were. A city like this takes some adapting to, you know that.” He reaches out and gives your arm a gentle squeeze, “but give it time. You’ll settle right back in.” He says warmly, reassuring. You return a tiny smile, more genuine this time.

“Seriously though. Change is good. New home, new job, meeting new people…maybe even someone special…” he adds.

You scoff, eyes widening, only half incredulous at how fast he swerved the topic there. So typical of him. 

“Yeah no, thanks. You can stop it right there.” You shake your head.

“What?” Hobi leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he waggles his eyebrows, a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, completely unbothered despite your clear opposition. “I'm just saying,” he adds in, raising his hands in mock innocence, though he feels like your glare could actually kill him. “You’re young. You’re no longer in that tiny ass town full of old drunk married cheating men. Everyone deserves a little fun. It wouldn't kill you to-”

“Hobi,” you sigh, cringing internally at the memories of disastrous dates you told him all about over the phone. You throw a pointed look in his direction, but Hoseok just chuckles. “I’m done with all that. Seriously.”

“Come on,” he presses.

“No. No way. I told you.” You interject, tone firm, not even allowing space for the idea. “I’m a single mother, Hobi. That’s been off the cards for years. I have different priorities now.” You straighten in your seat, making a point to scoop Jieun's hair back and out of her drink. These are your priorities now.

Hoseok raises a brow, watching you carefully, but there's no judgment in his expression now — just silent understanding. He leans back in his chair again, smile dying down, tapping his fingers absently against his iced americano before his gaze drifts over to your little girl. His expression softens, fondness flowing in his eyes.

“I know,” he says after a moment, his tone a tad more gentle. “But I’m just saying…you’re allowed to let yourself be happy again, you know. You deserve that.”

Something uncomfortable twists in your insides. Happy. What a simple word, but what a complex thing. 

You lift your eyes to meet his, the sincerity in his gaze cutting right through. You could argue, explain that you don't agree, that romance is a door locked for good. Not only out of fear, but out of necessity. It’s no longer just about you. You don’t have the luxury of reckless choices or fleeting little flings like you did before.

There's simply to much buried history to let anyone new into your life.

And deep down, you don't believe you deserve it. But you don’t voice any of that. There's no need to explain. Hoseok knows your history better than anyone, the pain etched deep into you, the one you carry like a scar beneath your skin. He knows Jieun's father plays a big role in that, even though you don’t dare to mention him and haven’t in years. He knows his existence and every memory he’s involved in is something you merely refuse to acknowledge. And though Hoseok wants nothing more than for you to thrive, he knows better than to press on the matter. 

Still, he hesitates before speaking quietly. “I’ve been here four years, and I’ve never seen him again.”

He says it gently, in hopes the information is comforting to you, to maybe put you at ease, but instead it feels like a small jab between your ribs. You stiffen, for just a second. You feel your heart begin to race a tiny bit faster. And you wonder when the mention of him will stop having this goddamn effect on you.

Hoseok notices, and regret quickly flickers across his face. He realizes he might have overstepped, treading on thin ice that he fears may slowly be cracking beneath him.

But it doesn't. You take a deep breath, and you simply nod. It’s okay. You know you can’t avoid it forever. Besides, who’s to say he even still lives here? The thought should be reassuring, bring you some sort of peace, be relieving. But it isn’t. Because the thought of ever seeing him again makes your palms sweat, and your chest a little tight.

“Yeah.” You say quietly. “You’re right. Who knows.”

You don't mention how many late nights you've stayed up, haunted with thoughts like if ever did make it out of here. If he ever made it to the states and accomplished all those things he wanted. If he's perhaps settled down and started a family or if he's stuck right where he used to be, how he used to be. You don't mention that sometimes, you mind even attacks you with the intrusive thought of if he’s even still alive.

You don't dare mention any of it.

Hoseok exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I just-” He pauses, voice lowering as he checks Jieun to make sure she's not listening, not that she would know or understand, but you appreciate that he does. “I know we’re not meant to talk about him–“

You push past it, giving a small dismissive shake of the head. Instead, you plaster on a small practiced smile, turning to glance down at the little girl beside you as well. It isn't something easy to avoid. But for the past four years, somehow, you’ve managed it. 

“Anyway. I am happy,” you say, voice softer now, steering the conversation elsewhere. “I get all the love I need from my little lovebug right here, don’t I?”

The little lovebug in question remains completely unaware of the heaviness of the conversation. Instead, her wide eyes are fixated on something outside, her eyes big and small fingers suddenly clutching your sleeve.

“Mommy, look!” She gasps, tugging desperately for your attention, she calls you again, tearing you away from your conversation. “The birdy!”

You follow her gaze, a small black bird just on the other side of the glass, and the simplicity of her joy softens you, eases the heaviness for a second. It really doesn't take much to amuse a child, and you’re glad to see at least someone enjoying her time here so far. “I see, baby.”

You smile with her, that is until, just a moment later, you notice… the small bird is no longer pecking at crumbs on the pavement. It’s… acting rather strangely. Its head twitches sharply to the side, body jerking with twitchy erratic movements as it flaps it’s wings like crazy, then suddenly, it freezes, before twitchting again.

Your brows furrow, unable to take your eyes off it. What the hell? Something about it sends a strange chill through you, suddenly understanding what had Jieun so surprised.

“Oh, I think that poor bird might have gone a little coo coo.” Hoseok turns his head to take a look himself, and you both exchange a puzzled glance, to which Hobi just shrugs with a mildly disgusted expression.

“What, you know I hate birds.” he whispers, shrugging like someone just walked over his grave, and you swat his arm and shush him, suppressing a laugh. You wouldn't want your sweet animal loving daughter hearing that. 

“Isn't that so weird. I’ve never seen one do that before.” You say, and hoseok tilts his head, staring at it with a mildly grossed out frown. “Probably has some kind of parasite or something. Not sure.”

“It’s gonna die?” she looks up at hobi, her little face full of worry. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her in closer.

“Not necessarily, bub. I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Hobi answers, trying to be tactful, however, Jieun doesn’t look convinced, but she nods sadly and resumes eating spoonfuls of her hot chocolate that's long gone cold. 

“Yeah, it’ll be fine baby.” You kiss the top of her head, as you glance out the window once again, only to see it’s no longer there. 

“So odd.” You shake your head, taking another sip of your coffee, and Hoseok nods and lets out a low hum, taking another sip himself.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day? Are you actually gonna start unpacking, or are you going to let those suitcases rot in your living room for another week?” He taunts.

You chuckle. “I’ll unpack eventually. This little girl and I have a long list of errands left to do today.”

“Uh-huh.” He gives you an unconvinced look, then looks at Jieun with a dramatic pout, cooing. “My poor little monkey. Prisoner to moms to do list. I remember that feeling.”

She giggles, and you speak up. “Shhh, she loves errands with mommy, don't you-”

Suddenly, a loud crash sound from the back of the café, startling you all.

The sharp clatter of metal rings out and you hear a young worker gasp, emerging hastily from behind the counter as the previous muffle of conversation begins to die down. Heads immediately start turning towards the scene unfolding before them. 

“What the hell?” you murmur as you hastily turn around yourself, pulse spiked from the jump.

Near the back of the cafe, a chair is knocked to the ground, a mans body hunched over on the floor, shaking and convulsing with an unnatural force that seems to take over him completely. The man sitting beside him instantly scrambles to the floor next to him, shaking his shoulders in a failed attempt to break him out of whatever is happening as he calls out for help in a trembling voice, panicked.

“Oh my god, Hobi-” You gasp and your stomach twists as you take in what is occurring, grip instinctively tightening around your daughter's hand, turning her away from the scene. One of the members of staff pulls out her phone, announcing that she will call an ambulance right away, the man on the floor now surrounded by two other workers that instantly made their way over to him.

Hoseok takes just a few seconds to register what’s going on. “Shit.” He mutters, “A seizure.”

Instantly, he’s up on his feet, leaving you and Jieun behind and rushes over to help, but before he can reach the man on the floor, a young worker steps in front of him, his hands raised. 

“An ambulance is on the way!” he blurts out, eyes darting between the unconscious man and the crowd gathering around him, Hoseok noticing his eyes full of panic. “Please, just give him space.”

“It's alright. I’m a nurse,” Hoseok urges, trying to step around him. “Please, let me-”

This time, there’s no resistance — only relief in the young man's panicked eyes as he steps aside, allowing Hoseok through to where the man is convulsing on the floor.

Jesus christ. On his one day off. He thinks internally.

Without hesitation, Hoseok drops to one knee. “Don’t hold him down,” he instructs the mans friend beside him as he proceeds to unbutton the first few buttons of the man's shirt to facilitate his breathing. He presses his fingers to his wrist as best as he can, taking a pulse. He attempts to roll him on his side, but he seizes with too much force, limbs jerking far too erratically for him to do so. 

“Has he ever had seizures before? Is he epileptic?” Hoseok asks without tearing his eyes away from the man.

The man's friend just shakes his head. “No…no- he was fine right before.”

“Ambulance is just two minutes away,” the barista yells, phone still pressed to her ear. Hoseok nods but keeps his focus on the young man. Face contorted in concertation as he's checking his pulse once again before tilting his head to ensure he’s breathing properly.

You sit speechless few tables away, watching the scene unfold, your heart erratic in your chest. But feeling so much relief Hoseok was here. Jieun's small hand holds yours tightly, grip strong. She shifts in her seat, trying to peek over the booth to the commotion, but you gently pull her in beside you. Pulling her close, you brush a soothing hand over her hair.

“It’s okay, baby,” your whisper. “That man wasn’t feeling very well. But uncle hobi is helping him. Isn’t that so good? He’s really good at helping people remember. It's okay.”

Jien nods slowly, though her brows are still drawn together in concern. She doesn’t fully understand, but she doesn’t doubt your word, or her uncle's abilities.

Across the large space, Hoseok presses his lips into a thin line, his eyes watching carefully as the man's convulsions finally begin to slow, the violent jerking finally seeming to ease up. But just as the worst seems to have passed…Hoseok stiffens. 

There’s a concerning, deep purplish hue creeping up the man’s neckline, peeking through the gap of his unbuttoned white shirt. Dark veins snaking against his pale skin, spreading like ink through thin cracks. Hoseok swallows hard, alarm bells ringing at the back of his mind. 

That…that doesn’t look right. His medical knowledge kicks in, a thousand possibilities racing through his mind, digging for the most fitting answer. Is it cyanosis? an undiagnosed vascular disease? Possibly an infected wound? blunt trauma?

His mind dashing for answers in an instant, but before he can take a better look and unbutton his shirt completely, after what feels like a lifetime, the piercing wail of sirens cuts right through his thoughts, and just moments after, paramedics burst into the café, pushing past the gathered crowd near the Hoseok and the patient on the floor. Hoseok quickly regains focus, stepping back to allow them to take over. 

“He had a seizure. Approximately a minute long. His breathing is stable but—“ He hesitates for a second, then presses on, giving them a brief diagnosis and rundown. “I think he may have another underlying condition. Possible hypoxia.”

The paramedic beside him nods, wasting no time as they swiftly load him onto a stretcher. He stands back, his jaw tight, fingertips tingling with the urge to do more, watching as they wheel him out through the entrance. The murmurs of the coffee shop begin to start up again, confused and concerned looks turning left and right, but Hoseok can’t shake all the questions in his mind. 

He just hopes the guy turns out to be okay. The same way it goes with every patient he sees. You have to do your part and let go. That's how it works. but this time, he's left with a weird feeling bubbling inside.

After a few minutes, Hoseok turns back to your table. The moment his eyes meet yours, you’re already standing and asking, “God, is everything okay? He’s okay, right?”

“It’s alright,” Hoseok reassures you, though his tone is softer than usual. “They've got it under control.”

His gaze flickers toward Jieun, who’s still clinging to you, her small face twisted in worry as she glances between the two of you. She tugs your sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mommy…what happened to the man?”

“The ambulance people will take care of him and take him to the hospital so they can help him.” You say gently. She blinks up at you, then glances toward Hoseok, as if waiting for confirmation.

Hoseok lips form a small smile, crouching slightly to be at her eye level. “Your mom is right,” he says carefully, patting her head. “Sometimes when people don’t feel well they need a little help. That’s what doctors and nurses are for Jieun. It’s okay.”

Jieun watches him for a moment, and gives him a slow understanding nod. He then straightens and exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs, his gaze flicking back toward the road in front of the entrance where the ambulance is now setting off.

You nod, now feeling a weight of unease in the crowded space. It would probably be best to give them space to handle the situation, and to get some fresh air after that. So you retrieve Jieun's little pink puffer vest from off hobis chair and gently help her arms into, zipping it up snuggly to keep her warm from the afternoon chill, before taking her hand in yours.

As the three of you finally step outside, you're grateful for the crisp autumn air that lifts some of the heaviness off you. God, that was stressful. The distant sounds of the city hum around you, and life moves as if nothing happened.

“God, I hope that guy is okay.” You say quietly only for Hoseok to hear, taking your daughter's hand as you let out a slow breath. “First that weird bird and then that poor guy.”

Hoseok hums in agreement and gives a small reassuring nod, pushing his concerns aside. But you know how hard it is for him to switch off. How even when the emergency is over, his mind replays it again and again, analysing— wondering if he could have done more, if he could’ve done better. Even when he deals with stuff like this everyday, it’s never been easy.

“Jesus Christ. What's that saying, bad things always come in two’s? Three’s? ” He chuckles, letting out a huff. “I told you, there’s never an uneventful day out here.” Hobi shakes his head, forcing a smile to lift the mood. But his body still buzzes with tension. Then, in one swift movement, he scoops Jieun up, swinging her into his arms. “Now, time for ice cream?”

Jieun giggles loudly, kicking her feet excitedly at his words, all her earlier worries forgotten. “Yes!”

“Hobi, she just had a hot chocolate. Do you even have space for ice cream, Jieun?” You say, trying to sound stern, but the sight of them giggling together pulls a real smile out of you. And something inside already tells you you’re going to give in.

“She’s with uncle hobi now, there’s no rules.” He sing songs, walking ahead of you with your daughter in arms, all smiles as she squeals at his gentle tickling. The spitting image of joy if you ever saw it.

And for just a moment, you try to push away the nagging feeling that’s been pressing at the back of your mind. 

Because maybe, just maybe, this time, everything will be just fine after all.

Jungkook steadies his hand, a quiet hiss of pain getting lost in the low thrumming of the tattoo gun that fills the quiet studio, lulling him into that comforting sense of calm he knows so well. It’s a fairly big piece, he’s been here hunched over for hours now, that familiar dull ache creeping up his back, but he barely registers it. Because all that matters is the art taking form beneath his touch. 

Here, in these moments, it's when the feels most himself. Distracted, at peace, In control. Something he’s never found that easy outside of these four walls.

Every stroke, every line falls exactly where he intends it to. In a way, the rest of the world seems to fade away — no worries, just ink and skin, art coming to life. And it grants him a satisfaction nothing else can quite offer. And if there’s one thing Jungkook prides himself on, it’s his work and dedication. He built this place with steady hands and relentless effort, and he knows damn well he’s good at what he does. Confidence hasn't always been second nature to him, but time and experience have definitely sharpened him.

He leans back slightly to take in the work before him, his disheveled strands of dark hair falling over his eyes as he uses a paper towel to wipe up some excess ink from the client's forearm before glancing up. “How are we holding up?”

The young guy shifts in the chair, letting out a breathy chuckle. “Let’s just say I felt that last bit there.”

Jungkook nods, noting the slight sheen of sweat on the guy's forehead. He’s just glad he’s not a squirmer. That shit makes his job so much harder than it needs to be. 

His own body is the canvas of plenty tattoos. All colours, shapes and sizes. He's more than numb to the pain now. But he gets it.

“You’re doing really well. I won’t torture you much longer. We’re almost done with the worst part.” Pressing the pedal again, he feels the familiar vibration travel up his arm, he tongues with his lip piercing, a habit that signals his concentration. His hair is dusting over his eyes as he continues with the last bits of shading and does the final touch ups of all the smaller details. Another forty five minutes pass, broken by lighthearted conversation here and there. Though Jungkook never used to be one for making conversation before, he has long mastered the art of letting his mouth wander while his hands and precision remain steady and focused.

“Alright, and we’re done,” he wipes down the fresh ink one last time before setting the tattoo gun aside, letting out a silent exhale as he wheels back, peeling off his black gloves to grab the aftercare instruction sheet, ready to spew his usual little lecture he knows most people don’t even pay much attention to.

“Sit up slowly.” Jungkook instructs.

When the guy finally stands, he marvels at his tattoo in the mirror. Jungkook feels a flicker of pride swell in his chest. No matter how many times he does this, seeing the completed, polished work and his client's expressions of amazement never gets old. “Looks sick man. Better than I imagined.” He beams, twisting his arm under the light, his smile spreading all across his face.

“Good choice with the design.” Jungkook replies with a faint smile tugging at his lips. He then places the protective film, gives him a quick rundown of the aftercare and hands him the sheet. “Take care of it. Follow the aftercare instructions and it’ll heal nicely. And you know, any issues just come by or give me a call and I’ll check it out.”

“Will do. Thanks man, it’s perfect.”

As the last client of the day slips out with a final wave and he hears the bell over at the entrance ding, Jungkook finally feels the exhaustion set in — the kind that only comes after hours of steady concentrated work. Fuck, he really does need to work on his posture. He stretches his back, then cracks his knuckles, stretching his toned, inked arms over his head. But despite the tiredness, he feels no rush no rush to get back to his empty apartment.

He never does.

Instead, he takes his time wiping down his station, tidying all his clutter and ink in the methodical and organized way only he understands — something Yoongi always grumbles about when borrowing his space. But this is his sanctuary. He makes the rules. And yoongi may complain, but he accepts it.

When he's done cleaning up, Jungkook emerges into the entrance area of the studio, rubbing the back of his neck and ruffling his hair at the nape.

Yoongi stretches in his chair behind the front counter, arms lifting above his head as he lets out as wide yawn, smacking his lips as his eyes land on the younger. “Christ, I thought you were dead in there,” he says deadpan, watching as Jungkook attempts to roll out the tension coiled in his shoulders, stifling a yawn himself. “Or are you? I genuinely can't tell.”

“Very funny.” Jungkook mutters, slumping onto the leather couch with an over dramatic sigh, throwing the back of his arm over his eyes as he lets his body sink into the plush cushion. It’s moments like this he’s really fucking glad they invested in a good sofa. He wants it to swallow him.

“Sure you can survive the schedule tomorrow? We’re fucking packed.” He says.

Jungkook’s brows knit together as his eyes dart over to Yoongi, eyeing the printed schedule in front of him as he rubs his jaw. “What? You think I can't handle it?”

Yoongi shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He coughs into his fist, a rough dry sound that echoes through the quietness of the now empty studio. “I know you think you’re some kind of machine,” he gives the younger a pointed look, “but let me just remind you that you are, in fact, very much not.”

Jungkook's lips quirk. “Woah, woah. I’ll be fine. Unlike someone who sounds like they've caught the plague.” Lifting his arms from his eyes just enough to peer at Yoongi, he swings his arm as if to push him away. “Stay away from me with that. I can’t afford a day off anytime soon.”

Yoongi scoffs, waving a dismissive hand as he coughs into his fist again. “Relax, it's just the dust. Or if you’re lucky enough I've caught that shit going around. Won't be on your case anymore for at least two weeks. That's if I survive.”

The sound is muffled by his arm as Jungkook lets out a tired chuckle, but his eyes remain closed. “Now you’re just trying to get out of work tomorrow, hyung. I know your little tricks.”

“If anyone should be trying to get our work, it should be you. Admit your running on fumes.” Yoongi drops the piece of paper to the desk and crosses his arms, looking right across to Jungkook, his eyes squinting lightly.

Jungkook feels his heavy gaze, but he's not in the mood to face one of Yoongis lectures right now. He can’t exactly argue that. Because he knows Yoongi is not entirely wrong. 

He's working six days a week, morning till night, barely stopping to take a breath. Hell, it would've been the entire seven days of the week if Yoongi hadn’t raised hell the day he suggested it. Jungkook had tried to reason with him, insisting that Yoongi would still get his days off as usual, that he’d open up the studio alone on weekends and get everything sorted for the week ahead. But it was never about that, and he knew it.

Jungkook has always had a knack for picking up self-destructive tendencies. A slow brewing kind of self destruction, pushing himself way past his limits, working himself down to the bone until he can barely function. And Yoongi simply wasn't going to stand back and watch it happen all over again right in front of his eyes.

Most days, he only eats because it’s Yoongi who shoves food his way, whether he wants it or not.  Prepping meals and stashing them away in their mini fridge in the back room where Jungkook can find them, labeled with a little note in his unmistakable messy handwriting that reads “eat.”

Because behind his serious facade, Yoongi had always tried his best to care for him. 

From countless nights of dragging his black out drunk body home back in college, and many times after college as well. To picking him up from the streets at 4 am after he got into a nasty fight, bruised and bleeding and sobbing his heart out alone on an empty sidewalk. Yoongi didn’t question it back then, didn't hesitate. He never does. He just helped quietly with no second thought, allowing him to sit with his silent sobs on the car ride home. He had always been there, offering him a home when he had nowhere else to go, offering everything he had if it helped Jungkook from drowning.

It was Yoongi that had seen the potential in him and had patiently guided him to finally see it for himself, helping him build this studio from nothing — helping him build every piece of furniture, putting up every shelf, painting every wall, making sure Jungkook finally had something to call his. 

And now, despite all the hardships, he’s come further than they both could have imagined.

Yet deep down, Yoongi knows no amount of help can stop Jungkook from being who he is, not when he has it so deeply rooted in himself to self sabotage in every way he possibly can. It's simply how he’s wired. Yoongi has long accepted that some things are simply beyond his reach, and that Jungkook won’t ever fully change. And he may never admit it out loud, but somewhere in his heart, as the eldest, he’s always felt an unspoken weight of responsibility for Jungkook. That's why he tries relentlessly to guide him towards better choices.

Even though Jungkook has matured and come a long way from his troubled past and the reckless kid he used to be, he’s far from eradicating his bad habits entirely. He knows he’s working himself down to the bone. He knows it's not healthy. Unrealistic for him to sustain in the long run. But he doesn’t like himself when he’s unoccupied. 

He doesn't like the quiet.

Because when there’s silence, there’s space for his mind to make noise.

So that’s what he does. He works, works until he can exhaust himself to the point of passing out, too drained to even feel. It means no thoughts can haunt him when his head hits the pillow. And he’s okay with that.

Besides, he loves his job. That's a fact. The only thing he’s passionate about. All he’s ever found himself to be good at. He doesn’t need anything or anyone else. 

Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“Fumes are still fuel,” Jungkook shoots back. He reaches behind his head to grab an old vintage manga off the small side table, flipping through the pages without really reading.

Yoongi studies him for a moment, his sharp gaze softening just a fraction. He shifts in his seat, resting his elbows on the counter, zeroing in on him as if he were ready to throw out a serious scolding, like he did back when he was a kid. But his next words are nothing but gentle. “You know, if you wanna keep up with that schedule, you’re gonna need sleep. I can close up if you wanna head out first.”

Jungkooks expression falters — just a flicker. But he covers it with an exaggerated groan. It does get on his nerves ever so slightly, just slightly. What is it with everyone always underestimating him? Treating him like he's not capable of making his own decisions. But his tongue toys with his lip ring as he continues flicking through the pages, feigning nonchalance. “I’m good. I wanna sketch out a few new designs first. Got some ideas ratting around.”

Yoongi squints at him, clearly unconvinced. “You do know that old couch isn't a substitute for a bed, right? and you could just…do that at home.”

Jungkook tosses the comic aside as he shrugs, already bored of the conversation, his inked fingers drumming relentlessly against the worn red leather. “I focus better here.” Is his simple answer, but before Yoongi can speak, a loud siren cuts through their conversation, blaring jarringly as it flashes by across the street. Almost instantly another follows, and then another.

Instinctively, both of their heads turn towards the window, though it only gives view to a small glimpse of the larger front street, most of their view blocked by the building across from them, all they can see is the bright lights flashing as they rush past.

“The hell’s that about,” Yoongi mutters, straightening in his chair.

Jungkook furrows his brows, pushing himself up on his elbows to get a better look outside. But from what he can see, everything seems normal enough — cars passing by, people going about their night and a few students heading home from late study sessions. Nothing in particular out of the ordinary.

The studio is located on a fairly quiet smaller side street, on the outskirts of the city, just a little further from the booming heart of Seoul. It’s never as busy or chaotic here, much quieter.

“Accident, maybe?” Jungkook guesses, a tired breath slipping past his lips. It’s still Seoul after all. When is it ever completely quiet? 

Yoongi hums in agreement, but as if on cue, another set of sirens blares through the streets, overlapping with others as the noise grows, this time it’s police cars too, wailing violently and urgently before fading into the distance as they speed away. Jungkook glances at Yoongi, who meets his gaze with an equally puzzled expression.

“Must be pretty bad.” Jungkook says.

Yoongi just pulls out his phone to check the time and sighs. “Well, whatever it is, I'm not sticking around to find out.” He pushes himself to his feet, patting his back pocket to pull out his dented pack of cigarettes before reaching for his jacket draped over the back of the chair.

A slight sense of uneasiness crawls up Jungkook's spine. That was about four ambulances and three police cars if not more. That’s….that’s a lot. But he soon brushes it off. “I’ll check the news later.” He mumbles, letting his heavy body drop back against the soft cushion, with no energy or intention to move.

Yoongi tugs his jacket on, tossing him a small glance. “Well, if you’re gonna stay here, at least don’t fall asleep on that damn couch again. You drool, and it’s gross.”

Jungkook chuckles, though it's half hearted. “I won’t ruin your sacred couch, hyung. Don't you worry.”

“Good.” Yoongi deadpans, heading toward the door. He flips the neon sign to closed before turning back to Jungkook once more, his tired features softening just a touch. “Don't stay too late. Tomorrow is fucking packed and you’ll regret it when youre half dead in the morning. And don’t forget about that girl you booked in at 9.”

He presses his eyes shut for a moment, letting out a breath. The girl needed some touch ups to her tattoo but had a busy schedule and no time to visit any other day or at ay other time. So Jungkook did the favour, and offered to book her in before opening time. But fuck. He really does need to stop bending his schedule for people.

He knows he’s going to regret it.

Jungkook just waves a dismissive hand, already getting comfy on the couch. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll leave soon.”

Yoongi doesn't believe him, but he doesn't argue, just pulls out a cigarette from the pack and raises his hands in surrender before he pulls open the door. “Alright. See you tomorrow.”

Jungkook hums in acknowledgement. “Rest up, Hyung.”

The studio fades to dead silence once the door closes. Though sirens still echo faintly in the background.

Stretched out on the couch, Jungkook stares at the ceiling a little longer than necessary. His limbs feel heavy, exhaustion pressing down on him heavily. He wants to work on those sketches, he wants to push his limits a little further. But his body seems to know what's best for him. And within minutes, he’s passed out.

When Jungkook’s eyes crack open, it’s to the gentle sound of rain pattering against the windows. But it’s not rain the noise that woke him. Distant voices shout over one another, and the erratic wailing of car alarms and sirens blast in a near distance, sounding like he’s still stuck between consciousness and a dream. Jungkook blinks, then suddenly, screeching tires follow into a loud crash, something heavy and metal hitting the pavement. His heart spikes, and his body jerks up instantly before his mind can register what the hell is going on. The sudden movement makes him lightheaded, blinking as he tries to shake the disorientation fogging his mind.

Shit. How long had he been out?

He curses under his breath, his head throbbing. Did someone just fucking crash their car outside? In his dazed state his fingers fumble for his phone in the front pocket of his jeans. He squints, the bright screen glaring back at him painfully in the darkness of the studio.

11:48 PM.

The first thought that comes to mind is drunk people causing a ruckus. It certainly wouldn't be unusual for Friday night. But then… he stops to listen. Are they breaking in? then his mind steers more towards the possibility of some petty street fight, or some idiots causing trouble. It’s the only conclusion his sleepy can come to.

But then, he hears it. 

Raw, panicked, screams erupting from the streets outside. It sounds close. Really close.

What the fuck? 

Jungkook feels a sickening pit form in his stomach.

Because that's definitely not the drunken shouts of a fight, not the sound of some petty fight or a car accident. It’s the kind of scream that crawls under your skin. And Jungkook knows the sounds of panic when he hears it. He feels his heart beating in his chest now, fast and strong. Something isn’t right. Before his mind can think  further, he pushes off the couch and yanks his leather jacket from the armrest, pulling it on in a swift motion, feeling a little dizzy as the room slowly begins to spin from getting up so fast. 

Behind the front counter he crouches, reaching for his motorcycle helmet. But his grip isn't steady, his palms suddenly feel a bit sweaty. The air in the room slightly suffocating.

His mind scrambles as he finally strides for the door, all he knows something is telling him he needs to get out. He’s ready to leave and check on what's happening outside, but just as his fingers brush the cold metal door handle—

A loud bang crashes into the large front window of the studio.

The impact rattles the entire front window, the glass shuddering violently as something smacks right into it with bone crushing force, causing large cracks to expand from the center like a spiderweb, blooming outwards across the glass. The helmet drops to the ground with a loud thud and Jungkook stumbles back in the darknesses, almost crashing back into the front counter as his breath gets stuck in his throat.

Jungkook freezes. His entire body completely paralyzed as he watches a thick, dark gush of red begin to trail down the ruins of the window. His eyes slowly follow it upwards and then…then he sees it.

A face, wedged between the shards of glass.

Jungkook sees the face of a man...except, it can't be. The skin is unnaturally pale, sickly white, dark veins bulging beneath the surface, tiny pieces of glass wedged everywhere into its flesh. Blood coats its entire mouth, dripping to the floor beneath — but it's the eyes… They send a shot of terror right down Jungkook's spine. 

They’re clouded and gray, almost white and eerily vacant, yet somehow, they’re locked right onto him.

Jungkook feels like he can’t take a breath, his chest tight as his eyes grow with complete shock and confusion.

Then, it moves.

Its head twitches in a slow agonized form before it seems to fully register Jungkook's figure standing right across. It cocks his head towards him completely with a grotesque sound of craking and lunges forward, slamming its hands against the glass with inhuman strength. Giving it all his power to break inside. It lets out another groan, a guttural broken sound as it reveals a row of blood stained teeth, the deep red liquid dripping from its mouth.

Jungkook swallows hard. If he moves will it move too? Will it...chase him? He feels like no oxygen is reaching his lungs, or his brain, his mind struggling to even process what he is seeing. That…that can't be real. It can’t be human. All he can do is watch as his heartbeat pounds like a hammer in his chest, louder than the sirens and screams growing outside, louder than the animalistic banging against the window.

That…thing is trying to kill him. It’s going to kill him.

It doesn’t stop. It claws at the glass, smearing the blood, desperate, mindless — growing more violent as it seems to realise its stuck. But the glass creaks more with each hit, trembling under the pressure of each movement, and Jungkook realizes it might not hold up much longer. He has no time.

Move.

He has to move.

Like a spring snapping, his body finally kicks into action. He stumbles backwards, feeling glass beneath his shoes as he tries to hold in a breath, his eyes fixed on the creature as he tries to back away with steady steps. After a beat, he sprints towards the back of the studio, running as his body pushes through the beaded curtain into the back room. 

His hands fumble frantically in his pocket — keys, keys, keys — but his hands are trembling too much to grip them. Fuck.

Jungkooks mind races with a thousand questions colliding all at once. But none of them make sense. None of them are even remotely rational.

That thing. It wasn’t human. Then what the hell was it?

Another jarring bang echoes in the studio, followed by a loud screech. But Jungkook doesn’t look up. He doesn’t have time. His only thought is to get out of here. Fast. He needs to get away from whatever the fuck that is. He needs to get to his motorcycle. He needs to get the police.

His fingers finally curl around cold metal. The keys. With a sharp inhale, he yanks opens the heavy back door leading into the tiny side alley and slams it shut behind him as he rushes out.

It’s dim, lit only by a flickering street lamp near the end, casting eerie shadows across the brick walls. The air is cool and damp, the smell of rain fresh on the damp asphalt and the sound of sirens and shouting voices in the distance become even clearer than before. But Jungkook can't see the one thing he’s looking for. His gaze darts around frantically and he feels a dreadful realization claw at his throat. 

His motorcycle is gone. The spot where it’s always parked is empty. 

Jungkook panics, his hands coming to his hair. Fuck, fuck, fuck. As he looks around helplessly, his breath only grows more erratic. He finds no other option but to run, so he runs to the end of the alleyway, running right towards the screams and tumult, and when he reaches the end, the scene unfolding before him almost kicks him to his feet.

The once quiet street had turned into a horrifying scene. People mindlessly running away from something. But what his eyes land on almost immediately is on a young woman in the middle of street, clutching her neck with both hands, her body swaying as she chokes out for help before she drops to her knees, her body shaking. Jungkook watches in horror as someone else runs right past her, coming from the same direction, white button up shirt soaked in something dark as his features display a kind of terror he’d never witnessed before. Across the street, an older man is pulling down the storefront gates as he locks himself inside, letting two kids in high school uniforms scream and kick as they beg to be let in, screaming and crying.

“What the fuck...” the words escape involuntarily in a quiet mumble to himself, his hands coming to his head.

Jungkook blinks repeatedly, completely aghast. But he doesn’t think— just moves, bolting down the street. His thick leather boots slam against the wet pavements as he runs, his dark hair blows in the air, his skin covered in a layer of sweat as he weaves past a fallen trash can and then a body, his breath ragged as he tries not to slip on the broken glass. The rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins too strong to even feel his body protesting.

Rounding a corner, he nearly collides into another person, but his hands instinctively come up to push them away, almost knocking them to the ground. He doesn’t have a space in his mind to think about it or time to dwell on it. His body acting on autopilot. The more he runs, the more people seem to be running in the opposite direction. Away from something. His legs burn as he sprints faster, but coming off onto the main street of Jongno, he comes to a halt as he takes in the state of the streets, pupils blown as something terrible dawns on his expression.

The city is in shambles.

Everything.

Chaos.

Cars sit abandoned in the middle of the road, their doors flung open, some have crashed into street lamps and traffic signs, into each other at intersections, even buildings, the smoke clouding up into the dark sky. Blending with the red and blue of wailing sirens. People are everywhere. Hundreds of people are running in all different directions — some screaming, some covered in blood, some sobbing and some seemingly unmoving on the ground. Pushing and tripping against each other, running, but most don’t even know what they’re running from, simply following the crowd. 

How many more of those rabid people were there? How far had this spread? 

He wants so badly to be wrong, but something deep inside him tells him this is something big.

He stills for an instant, trying to orientate himself. He scans the street hurriedly for the best route to avoid getting stuck in a crush, to avoid more of those things…but all he sees is the panicked chaos spreading by the second. 

Jungkook feels like he’s outside of his body, like this is a dream, a nightmare he’ll wake up from any second now. He closed his eyes for a second and inwardly prays for it to be just a bad dream. But the air is thick with the acrid scent of smoke and blood, and the pounding in his chest is too real. The world around him still screams, set aflame.

This can’t be real.

This…this can’t be happening.

Just a few meters away from him two figures wrestle on the ground — except one of them isn’t fighting back anymore, and the other is hunched over them, their head buried in the victim’s throat. Jungkook staggers back, his stomach lurching at the gut wrenching sounds of someone being mauled alive, bile burning the back of his throat when he watches infected pulls back, large chunks of flesh dangling from its bloody mouth, dripping crimson.

The truth slams into him, but his mind is till fighting to accept it.

People are killing people. Eating people. Except…they're not people. They’re monsters.

Jungkook scans the crowd for an escape route, desperate. After a moment, he catches sight of the least crowded street, it's right on the way to his place. He takes a sharp breath and runs, runs non stop down a dozen blocks. But as he navigates the frantic roads, he spots something as he runs past a small street. Stopping him in his tracks. He notices a tiny figure huddled up alone at the beginning of an alleyway, wearing bright pink, shoulders trembling and hands pressed over her ears as she sobs violently. 

A child, no older than three or four if Jungkook had to guess. He halts, heart pounding as he registers her small frightened face, streaked with tears. 

He should keep running, he knows he should. His body is urging him to just keep moving, his insides shaking with adrenaline. That’s not his responsibility. He hasn’t stopped for anyone. But the burning images of what he’s just witnessed flash fresh in his mind. And something deeper roots him in place. Something inside him twists, snaps almost, an unfamiliar instinct that overrides his own confusion and fear.

Ah, fuck it. 

Before his mind can catch up with what he’s doing, he rushes into the alley, approaching the child cautiously with slow steps as he gets closer. He crouches down to her level, looking over his shoulder nervously. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” his voice is gentle but hurried as he searches her face. “Where are your parents? Are you lost?”

The small girl just looks up at him with large, wet eyes and a trembling pout, her hands balled into tiny fists. She doesn’t answer, just stares, whimpering and hiccuping softly, like she’s been warned to not talk to strangers — especially not ones clothed head to toe in black, covered in tattoos and piercings like himself. He glances around, hoping to see someone rushing towards them, any sign of this child's parents so he can just hand her over and run, but there’s nothing, just the crowd at the end of the alley pushing past in frantic waves and yelling, no one stopping to even look in their direction. 

He has to do something.

“Do you…where did you see your parents last-” a loud metal bang echoes in the distance, making Jungkook and the child flinch, a heavy breath escaping him. Fuck, his mind races as he realizes she’s truly alone. The girl just sobs more and he curses under his breath, eyes pressed shut as his mind scrambles for what to do.

He can’t just leave her alone in whatever the hell this is. But what the hell is he supposed to do?

“Uh, alright,” he coughs, throat dry, and speaks softly but hurriedly, trying to mask his unease as he reaches out his hand. “Come with me. It’s not safe here. I’ll… I'll help you find your parents.”

He’ll take her home, get her out of danger and call the police. That’s what he should do. 

It’s the right thing to do.

Okay. 

He hopes she knows he’s only trying to help. God, his pulse races every second he’s standing here still. They need to move. Now. She just stares at him, uncertain, then slowly reaches out with her tiny fingers, clasping his much larger hand with a surprising grip. She must see past his intimidating exterior, or be so terrified that she’ll take up any offer of being reunited with her parents, either way, her innocence makes Jungkook's heart sting a little. He can't just leave a child out here, he has to help her before something terrible happens to her or she falls into the wrong hands. He doesn't know what the hell to do, all he knows is they have to run, run right now and get away from this, and-

Suddenly, a piercing, desperate voice breaks through the havoc of noise, loud enough to catch Jungkook's attention.

“Jieun!” 

The sound makes his entire body lock up, his heart jumping in his chest as he turns toward the voice. 

Running towards him, just feet away, eyes filled with worry and tears, he sees you.

Jungkook feels the blood drain from his face. 

For a split moment, the world seems to fall silent. The noise, the screams and chaos, the sirens — all of it blurs into a distant hum in the back of his mind. He feels like the air is knocked straight from his lungs as he slowly takes in your face, a slightly more matured version of a face he once knew every inch of, a face he’d buried away along with every memory he’d tried so hard everyday to annihilate ever since you disappeared from his life. A face he could never forget, not even after four painful years.

It can’t be.

No, no, no-

But it’s real, because there you are. Lunging forward and arms out reaching for the little girl beside him with thick tears of relief flooding from your eyes. The child lets go of Jungkook's hand instantly and her tiny feet pat across the concrete as she launches herself into your embrace, leaving him behind to watch, frozen and stone cold like a statue. 

“Mommy!” She cries.

Jungkook feels his stomach drop. He thinks he's going to throw up.

He must’ve heard that incorrectly.

Mommy? That child is…

He feels like he can’t move, blood cold as he watches you crumble to your knees, gathering the little girl into your arms with a grip that looks suffocating, as if she might disappear into thin air again. Your whole frame trembles as you hold her close, relief pouring from you in loud, choked sobs, your fingers getting tangled in her wet hair as you comb though it desperately.

That’s.. your child?

“Jieun, oh my god, baby. You’re here, you’re okay,” your voice cracks with all the pain your body just underwent, whispering against her temple. “Are you hurt? You’re not hurt are you, baby?”

The last thing you remember is being in the convenience store when the chaos began. When you walked out you had no choice but to run into the crowd. How Jieun was holding your hand and in the blink of an eye, her hand slipped from yours. You turned back, screaming her name, but she was gone, just another small figure lost in the stampede of a city falling apart.

By the time you fought your way out of the crowd, Jieun was nowhere in sight. Your heart is still hammering loudly between your ribs, mind stuck on the past horrifying minutes since she disappeared from your side.

But as you finally look up… all your relief shifts, eyes darkening with shocking realisation that mirrors the expression in the man standing just feet away when you. Heart hammering in your chest as if it recognized him before your eyes do.

You blink once, twice to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. Completely distraught.

If Jungkook thought he was stuck in a bad dream before, he’s certain now this is all a cruel, sick and twisted nightmare. He feels his stomach churn. The weight of clashing emotions and utter disbelief thrown over him. So many questions he can’t yet voice crashing into him like a bucket of ice cold water, making his blood run cold.

This has to be some kind of sick joke. 

All of it. 

“Jungkook?” Your voice trembles, barely a whisper, as if the sound of his name out loud might shatter you to pieces.

He’s standing in front of you, drenched from the rain, his wet dark hair hanging messily in his face — so much longer than it used to be. He has new piercings on his face, and his features have definitely matured. He looks…different, yet somehow exactly how you remember him. His big dark eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, you feel your world stop. 

“Y/n?” His voice cracks slightly, like he’s just been punched in the gut. “Wh…what are you doing here?” but there’s no anger in his voice, just confusion, and perhaps, a hint of something painful. His words hang heavy between you, getting lost in the sounds of the burning city beyond this tiny street, and you feel a paralysing weight on your chest. Your mind reeling beyond comprehension.

You open your mouth to speak, ready to say something, anything. But you feel like you’ve forgotten how to form words. So you close it again, no words come out. His eyes flicker from your face to the little girl clutching your side, and you feel a pit sinking in your stomach. God, please no.

This can’t be happening — not here, not now. 

Not like this.

You want to bolt, to run and not look back like you always do. You wish the earth would just swallow you entirely. But all you can do is stand there, your heart pounding faster in your chest, mouth dry.

You try to step around him, desperate to move forward, to escape this horror. But before you know it, his hand catches your arm. He grips you gently, but with a force that indicates he won’t let you slip away again. His touch almost makes you fall to your knees.

“Come with me.” 

Your body stiffens at his words, and you swat your arm loose of his grip. You lift Jieun into your arms instinctively, fingers curling around her small body as if the mere act of holding her can shield you from everything. From him, from all the pain, from all of this living nightmare.

“No,” you say, the word coming out broken, like your breath is caught. “I can’t go with you. I need- I need to get hobi-” 

“My apartment isn’t far,” he cuts in, not giving you space to say more. “We need to get off the streets.’’

You hesitate, watching his gaze scurry between you both again. Everything in you is telling you to just run, to put as much distance as you can between yourself and Jungkook. Willing this conversation to die before it can even begin. Before he can start asking questions you’re not ready to answer. Before you have to face things you’ve already buried deep. Before it’s too late.

You need to leave. But Jieun is shaking, clutching onto you for dear life as she whimpers against your chest, and the sounds of screams still ringing in your ears. And there’s infected everywhere. You’re stuck in the middle of a warzone, and you have no idea what to do, no idea where to go.

All you know is you need to get Jieun out of this. Away from danger.

“Have you not seen what the fuck is going on? People have gone fucking insane!” His tone grows harsher now, trying to knock some sense into you. “We need to move.”

A gut wrenching scream echoes from somewhere beyond the alley, closer than before this time. Too close. 

Jungkook swears under his breath, running a hand through his hair, torn between a storm of brewing emotions and the immediate danger closing in. His jaw tightens as he looks behind him then back to you. “Y/n, we need to go. Now.”

You shake your head violently, and you can feel hushed tears burning behind your eyes. You can’t breathe, can’t think clearly. All you can feel is Jieun trembling in your arms.

“Please-” his voice drops, raw and desperate. Almost a plea.

And don’t know when or why it happens, but the next thing you know, your feet are moving. You’re running with everything you have left in you.

Somehow, the world is ending, and you’re allowing yourself to be guided by Jungkook down streets devoured by chaos, heading to the only safe place around you. 

His home.

➵ taglist: @amatun28 @ahgasegotarmy116 @knjs95s @jeoncookiebar @badaspice @lachimolalajeon @tearykth @lovingkoalaface @jcrl99 @hellbornsworld @mortqlprojections @xumyboo @honeymeraki @justanarchiveforfics @iamnotdrunk420 @iveivory @k-p0p-4ever @jksjx @yoonberriez @lotustv @hannahmae18 @eclipsethemagic @bybyash @rjooniesdimples @minimoninini @satisfied18 @pinkpunkdynamite @jheneeko @sungiesworld27 @neuviloved @somehowukook @iohwa-com @lola75111 @hanversace @ot7even @rie-pdf @futuristicenemychaos @chl0buggy @happycheesecakedelusion @busanbby-jjk @minyoongi7016 @stellamalonesolaria @qyurryus-m @ex7stance @dchimminie

[taegimood]

— nudes?! (k.th) ♡

pairing: kang taehyun x fem!reader genre: best friends to ?, non-idol au, suggestive rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 1.4k warnings: mention/description of reader's nudes, mention of reader in lingerie, implication of sexy time at the end, tyun gets hard and is v clear abt what he wants, they’re both horny asf synopsis: what happens when your best friend who secretly has the hots for you accidentally sees your nudes?

requested forever ago by @mapofthemazeinthemirror <3 [blog status: semi-hiatus, requests closed]

| yeonjun ver. | soobin ver. | beomgyu ver. | kai ver. |

masterlist

──────────────────────

taehyun considers you one of the bros.

right up there along with his 4 other crazy best friends, you fit right in, no sideways feelings to worry about and endless wingman opportunities to gain — hell, he even forgets sometimes that you've got a pair of boobs under there somewhere.

and all of this, of course, is completely and absolutely:

not true.

it's exactly what you seem to think in that pretty little head of yours, though, as taehyun often observes; it's quite cute actually, he thinks.

"out of all the guys i could like, why does it have to be the one guy in my life who would draft me onto his football team if he had one?" he'd overheard you complaining to yeonjun one day.

(sorry, but trust me, sweetheart - you wouldn't even make it past tryouts, he'd thought afterwards upon fighting back a laugh and an endeared little grin.)

oh, if only you knew.

if only you knew the steady breaths he has to take whenever you stand so temptingly close to him; or how many filthy images he has to shake out of his mind when he's helping you with your workouts; or that annoying little shadow called jealousy that he has to push down when you smile so sweetly at a man that isn't him.

taehyun is a man of self control, and a man who would do anything for the people that he loves — which means that no matter how much he'd enjoy changing your mind about what exactly you assume he perceives you as, he knows for the sake of your friendship that he can't.

and so he doesn't.

but oh, you wish that he would.

taehyun is quite good at keeping his feelings in check, to the point where you're convinced at this point that if you were to strut naked across the room in front of him, he wouldn't even pay you any mind;

pft, you scoff at your own silly thought, as if something so ridiculous would ever happen. (…well....)

today you've decided that you're getting real tired of your own pining and yearning and eyes that shoot hearts like confetti every time your best friend walks into the room —

you pout at the sight of yourself reflected on the open camera screen of your phone as the self-timer counts down yet again. this has become quite the routine of yours.

body bare save for the lacy lingerie that doesn’t cover much of anything as you perch at the edge of your bed, posing so prettily, so sensually, just the way you imagine taehyun would like; just more photos to add to the naughty little album in your camera roll that you wish you could send to him but know that you never will.

there was a time where you used to try testing the waters a bit, some flirting here, a fleeting touch or two there. but you'd quickly learned how pointless it was. after all, a brick wall is never gonna flirt back.

you sigh. it's time to get going anyway; speak of the devil, he'll be here to pick you up in 20 minutes.

~

taehyun can see in his peripheral the way you keep glancing at him from the passenger seat of his car.

as usual, he maintains an even expression. "excited to see me or something?"

his lips quirk as you jump in your seat a little, quickly looking forwards and crossing your arms as you grumble, "you wish. i just saw you like two days ago."

he merely hums in acknowledgment, which gets you even more grumbly — ("no fair that i can never get a reaction out of you! why is it always me?!" you'd wailed in defeat one time after a failed attempt to get him back, your cheeks flushed pink and pretty).

taehyun smiles.

when he soon pulls up outside your friend's apartment building that you’d needed to drop something off at first on the way to yeonjun’s, he decides to be nice as he asks,

"where was that new cat café you wanted to go to? we can stop there before meeting the guys."

bingo. the smile that lights up your face is exactly what he was looking for as your previous pout melts away and you gasp, "really?! okay wait, i took a screenshot of their instagram page the other day, you can check and put the address in! i'll be super super quick!"

he bites back a laugh as you shove your phone into his hands and excitedly rush out of the car.

"5 minutes tops or i'm going without you!" he calls out the window, to which you shriek and scurry away even faster.

he grins to himself, shaking his head as you disappear into the building and he turns to click open your camera roll.

"alright, cat café, where are............ you."

taehyun feels as if a lightning rod has just shot straight through his entire body.

his muscles tense. all his breath escapes him in a rush.

you...

the sight of you is what greets him through the screen...

you,

completely naked.

it's like his skin is consumed by fire as his eyes roam across the rows of pictures in the album you'd left open; most taken on your bed, some in the shower at the gym that you both go to together, some where you’re donned in sets of delicious lingerie — his eyes widening and pants tightening when he even spots one from his own room, your skirt hiked up in the reflection of his full-length mirror as your panties dangle cheekily from one finger, leaving the delicious curve of your ass on full display.

when did she even take that??

he scrolls, and he's barely hanging on by a thread as his best friend who's supposed to stay his best friend poses so irresistibly pretty from the screen; his cock is so hard that it's painful as your big innocent eyes look up at him in complete contrast to the lewd position that you'd put yourself in.

god, the positions he wants to put you in...

alright, reel it in, kang taehyun. this can't go anywhere. you have to take it to the grave. you’ve gotta think about the friendship. you’ll just pretend you didn't see it. you’ll act aloof like you always do.

but every single ounce of self control that taehyun has spent so long holding together finally crashes down around him like a breaking dam when his gaze lands on the name of the album at the top of the screen.

— t ♡

his cock jumps.

fucking hell, these are for me.

when you skip your way back to the car minutes later, you don't notice at first how firmly he's gripping the steering wheel or the fact that he isn’t even looking at you, remaining staring straight ahead as you climb back into the passenger side.

you don't notice — that is, until your phone catches your eye, set neatly on the middle console with your worst nightmare staring right back up at you from the screen.

it feels as though a bucket of ice water has crash landed down on your head (both the water and the bucket) as you realize what happened.

but you barely even have the time to panic or react or beg for mercy, or perhaps for a lobotomy on you both, before taehyun is asking you:

"back seat or my place?"

his voice is so calm that you almost don't process his words. your thoughts buffer as you pause.

"wh... what?" you breathe.

that's when he finally turns his head to look at you, and the intensity of the hunger swimming in his stare is enough to leave you even more winded than you already were before as a familiar feeling stirs between your legs and your thighs clamp together of their own accord.

"back seat," he repeats slowly, "or my place?"

you swallow hard.

this.. t-this is... he means.…

your head is reeling, and dumbly you stammer back, "w-what about the guys..?" as if the plans with your friends really matter anymore in a moment like this.

fuck the guys. fuck the cat café. taehyun has already decided: he’s done holding back from what he wants, and what he wants is to make you his.

you blink at him wide-eyed as he leans towards you slightly in his seat, his voice low and assertive as he replies,

"we're not going."

he taps your phone as if to draw your attention back to it. as if it should be obvious.

"so, you choose." your eyes fly back up to his —

"where do you want me to fuck you?"

your lower belly explodes with heat as an electric shiver rolls down your spine, and you swear that this is the best day of your entire fucking life as you see the promise that flickers in his eyes.

maybe you won't be finding yourself on the football team after all.

──────────────────────

— taglist: @razsberrie, @saejinniestar, @hyukalyptus, @florestalio, @beomiracles, @kiss4baku, @kejingken, @hyukascampfire, @cherr4es, @stawmerry, @choikanghuening, @dawngyu, @soo-blue, @paradigms13

if you want to be added to my taglist and get notified whenever i post any writing, drop a comment or an ask and let me know! ♡

[plutoslastwords]

can we get more babynorris!reader pleaseee i loved those they're soo cutee

stream sniper

lando norris x daughter!reader

summary: lando makes a surprise return to streaming, baby norris makes a surprise appearance on said stream

warnings: none!

w/c: 1.1k

a/n: this is short and terrible, i'm sorry, but i wanted to get something out before work starts to pile up on monday! tysm for requesting!!!! 🤍

~~~

“Goodnight my darling… sleep well baby.” Lando placed a gentle kiss on your forehead as he tucked you into bed and your eyes fought to stay open. “Daddy’ll come wake you up in the morning okay? There we go, good girl.” He smiled as you snuggled up with your favourite bunny toy and drifted off to sleep. 

He quietly creeped out of your bedroom, and into his office where he had a message from Max (Fewtrell):

Max

you wanna join my stream?

Read the message, which Lando pondered on for a minute, before reaching a different conclusion.

You

only if you join mine

After a much too long hiatus, Lando was ready to return to his streaming days and with you sound asleep in bed, there was no better time than the present.

He struggles with setting up the stream, having to be retaught by Max, god, it’s really been way too long..

However, soon enough he was back in the familiar rhythm, gaming, cracking jokes with his friends and generally entertaining his stream. He’d missed streaming, between being a dad, F1 driver and all of his other duties he had not had much time to just enjoy some gaming with his friends with the rest of the world. 

Him and his friends were just messing around for about 20 minutes when, silently, the door to his office slowly creaked open, which went unnoticed by him, but definitely not his stream.

You toddle in, holding your rabbit toy with messy bed hair and bunny pyjamas. 

“Daddy..” you try calling, you couldn’t fall asleep and you needed him to give you another cuddle and tuck you in better. However, your call falls on deaf ears, Lando too engrossed in his game with his friends.

The chat is going insane, you’re very rarely shown to the public, Lando wanted to keep your life relatively normal, you’re only 3 after all, so therefore whenever his fans get a glimpse of you, chaos ensues. 

Lando’s mods are desperately trying to get his attention that his daughter was in the background, knowing he’s anxious about how much of you should be shown to the public, however his game is much more interesting than any discord message from his team. 

You pout when he ignores you yet again, the chat going crazy over your adorable scrunched up face. You know your daddy doesn’t really like it when you interrupt him when he’s working, but you chose to forget that, waddling over to where he sits and tugging on his shirt.

Lando jumps in surprise, having completely missed the fact that you had wandered into his office, and now were being shown in front of 15 thousand people. He quickly mutes his mic and turns his camera off, pulling you into his lap.

“Babygirl, why’re you here, huh? I thought you were meant to be in bed? Daddy’s working sweet thing…” he says softly.

“Couldn’t sleep daddy… wanna be with you…” He can hear his friends asking what’s wrong through his headset, he doesn’t want to upset you, but he also doesn’t want to stop the game, he very rarely gets chances like this to spend with his friends.

He pauses for a moment, going through his options, before eventually relenting. “Why don’t you stay here whilst daddy plays angel? Sit on my lap and you can fall asleep if you get tired, okay?” He coos at you.

In response, you nod, that sounds nice, getting to spend time with your daddy, especially when it’s past your bedtime. He smiles at you, “good girl, sweetheart..”

He turns his mic and camera back on, your little form now on view to the stream.

“We gotta new guest, chat, someone didn’t wanna fall asleep hm? Say hi to chat, my love” He strokes your hair gently.

“Hi chat…” You say shyly, waving, but you’re not really sure at who, there is no one there?

The chat immediately fills up with love for you, all of Lando’s fans adore you, who doesn’t? Lando smiles as he reads the messages of greeting, he loves how much everyone loves you, how much joy you bring to people, especially him.

Lando continues to play his game whilst you sit quietly, drifting off into a sleepy state from time to time. Occasionally you point out something that you could see on his screen, to which he would respond with a beaming grin and a ‘yeah baby, that’s right, clever clever girl!’, to which his chat would go even more insane.

Overtime, however, sitting watching your daddy’s strange game becomes a bit too much for you, and you are struggling to fight your heavy eyes. Before you know it, you are sound asleep on your daddy’s lap, head buried into his chest.

Noticing this, Lando smiles, “Gotta be quiet now, chat, the princess has gone to sleep..” he whispers, gently rubbing your back in order to make sure you are having as peaceful a sleep as possible. He grabs your bunny from where you had left it on his desk, placing it gently into your hold, knowing there’d be tears if you were to wake up without it. 

The stream continues on for about another hour, but everyone can tell that it is no longer Lando’s main focus, too busy watching your peaceful little body on his lap. He finishes up the steam swiftly, having bigger priorities to focus on.

“Hey, baby, daddy’s finished now, we gotta get you back to bed, yeah?” He whispers softly, as to not startle you, gently rubbing your shoulder to wake you up.

You just rub your head into his chest in response, still groggy and half asleep, but awake enough to get your thoughts across, “I stay with daddy.” You mumble firmly.

“No, baby, daddy’s gotta go to bed too, we gotta get up, okay?” He chuckles at your insistence.

“No!” You say, firmer this time, “I go to bed with daddy!”

Lando sighs, but there is no real malice, he would love nothing more than to have you with him, he sleeps the best he ever does when you’re right there, but he knows that it’s a bad habit to continually let you sleep in his bed.

He quickly shuts those thoughts down when he looks into your pleading, big, sweet, sleepy eyes, and all resolve cracks.

“Oh, of course, my darling, anytime, you know that..” He coos, standing up with you in his arms and heading towards his bedroom. “Daddy loves you more than anything, little monkey…”

~~~

a/n: sorry this isn't very good :( thank you sm for all of the love 😁 and pls keep on requesting anything about baby norris or anything else you'd like to see!

[ctrlhope]

Lily pleaseeee share your favorite ot7 hybrid fics, i can’t find any 😭😭😭😭

OMGGGG BB YOUVE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE OKIEEE I LOVE OT7 FICS REAL BAD

I’ve been reading hybrid fics p much since I started reading bts fanfics so… I can hook u up dastardly style 🤩 links under the cut <33

so before I start listing ima be so fr and say I like most of my hybrid fics verryy formulaic. i p much only ready hybrid bts x human reader and I really enjoy the whole plot of ‘y/n inherits bts and doesn’t know what to do!’ Or ‘y/n sees 7 hybrids at the shelter who need help and doesn’t know what to do!’. It feels sooo chicken noodle soup to me and it feels good for my soul <33 so I hope these fics feel like chicken noodle soup for u too and that you love them as much as I do <33

Series

Abundance ✰ @angelicyoongie

HYBRID CLASSIC FICCCC actually one of the first hybrid fics I think I ever read?? Def the first hybrid ot7 which is kinda crazy 😭 perfect chicken soup for the soul <33 probably the basis for the way I like hybrid fics I read formatted now!! you can really see how the authors writing grew with this fic. Was the fic that made me fall in love with hybrids, actually. I love all of her work so bad man [last updated: 10/4/24]

Trouvaille ✰ @spookyserenades

on my main recs list for a REASON!!! MODERN OT7 CLASSIC FIC!!! if you like the slowest of burns… you’ll enjoy this fic heavily. once again my favourite chicken-soup style so I can’t help but recommend it <33 I have… so many words id like to say about coyote jimin and hoseok… but I will remain silent for my own dignity 😔love all of her work terribly <33 [last updated: 8/17/24]

SeVen Uncaged ✰ @/missing_min_meowmeow (ao3) and @/polaritae (ao3)

two part series (first half completed, second half not) detailing the difficulties of adopting 7 hybrids reader was completely unprepared for 🙂‍↕️ YESSS MA’AM!!! LOVE LOVE LOVE!!!! I love how this fic goes into the details of how difficult mentally and physically this kind of change would be for the hybrids. I love the characterisation of each of the boys. I LOVE IT!!!! pls give this series a chance it is so definitely worth it even though it’s unfinished. A love it terribly, in its entirety. I LOVE FLAWED CHARACTERS!!! [last updated: 9/11/23]

Restitution ✰ @/cloudtea (ao3) @cloudteawrites (tumblr)

like I said I REALLY like fanfics where reader comes into a bunch of hybrids and has to deal with the consequences 😭 that being said, this has exactly everything I love in a hybrid fic, I absolutely love the concept, and the stories of where each of the guys came from before. THIS is exactly what I mean when I say a chicken soup fic— warm and comforting. Hopefully the author will come back to it someday <33 it’s so good even though it’s just the beginning [last updated: 4/19/21 — permanent hiatus]

Loving You Isn’t Hard to Learn ✰ @/arduouslove (ao3) @arduouslove (tumblr)

MANNN ITS SO WARM AND COMFORTING!!! like,, i know i keep saying chicken soup and IM SORRY BUT THATS WHAT THESE ARE FOR ME!!! I absolutely adore the concept of a motel for hybrids to go when they need help. And I really love the development we’ve seen so far between Hoseok and jimin. Another fic that was left at the beginning, but truly lovely. Another one I hope the author updates again someday <33 [last updated: 03/07/23]

Still Life ✰ @/king_myg (ao3)

OKAY NO YOU DONT UNDERSTAND THIS IS ACTUALLY LIKE,,, ONE OF MY FAVOURITE HYBRID FICS IVE READ!! The concept behind it is just so,, intriguing. It’s a yandere fic, so it has that edge to it but the way jungkook just *is* is so…. No you actually just have to read it to understand. I love this fic sooo bad actually. And Yoongi who pretends not to be a hybrid… and!! I really can’t express in words how exciting this was for me to read. I can’t wait to see how the rest of the guys relationships develop with the reader. [last updated: 5/22/24]

Home Calls the Heart ✰ @anonnie-in-wonderland

verryyy cute ot7 fic <33 the first chapter just feels very warm and soft. its adorable how tae wants to 'adopt' a human for his family even though he doesn't quite understand the repercussions of it [last updated: 12/17/22]

About love ✰ @mochiimac

One of my favourite tropes of reader coming into hybrids and them all hating each other right off the bat!! The writing style feels so safe too <33 [last updated: 04/24/3]

A Hundred Percent Human ✰ @/wrienne (ao3) @wrienne (tumblr)

Another CLASSIC ot7 hybrid fic!! I remember reading the first few chapters before I took a break from fanfics back in the day. Each of the characters (bts memebers) are so interesting and I love the personalities the author made around them as well as all the world building they did within the fic. The class system was so interesting to me and TAEHYUNG??? God, such a fun and dynamic story!! Highly recommend you check it out [last updated: 7/24/23]

Daddy’s Money Makes the World Go Round ✰ @/That_Author (ao3)

SOOO warm and comfortable. Guarddog Namjoon rlly just wants to keep the reader safe even though her parents are mean. Their relationship (as well as the rest of the guys that come into the home) is just SO sweet n gentle <3 [last updated: 10/28/22]

Oneshots

Secret Story of the Swan ✰ @purpleyoonn

one of the few yandere fics on the list and oh so sweet <33 the way they gently lure reader is so 🥺 and she gives in easily to their charms 🥺 v cute little oneshot <33 love her a lot

Beastly Gods ✰ @lemonjoonah

A CLASSICCCCCC one of the only (other) yandere fics on this list. mostly taehyung x reader w/ implied ot7 x reader ++ drabbles featuring ot7 x reader. I love this fic so much actually you don’t understand. It holds such a special place in my heart PLS READ IT!!

Tangled Hearts ✰ @writersrealmbts

Adorable look into readers life with 7 hybrids <33 truly love how this fic played out and the interactions the members had with eachother and the reader. ITS JUST REAL CUTE OKAY!!!! Makes me all soft nd gushy!! Very cute <33 i love it.

To Be Read / Currently Reading

Kindness ✰ @/angelaronin (ao3)

Stray Cat Strut ✰ @/typhloticharuspex (ao3)

Meritocracy ✰ @/saylilirose (ao3)

The Dog Days are Over ✰ @/mintedmango (ao3)

Redamancy ✰ @/dalgi_jungoo (ao3)

A Sweet Change ✰ @/kagsii (ao3)

Peculiar Pack ✰ @/dollremi (ao3)

If anyone has any reads I didn’t mention comment them or message me them!!

** I’ll update this as I read more / find more fics I’ve read in the past that I enjoyed!! By no means is it complete, these are just the fics I’ve read/reread recently nd enjoyed <33 Currently going through my tumblr likes to see if I’ve missed any <33 ✰ last updated: 01/19/25

Main Rec List | individual/poly hybrid rec list (coming soon)

[cherilightt]

the art of letting go • ˖📓🕷️ ࣪𖦆

(I learnt the hard way)

(also yes, after an year long hiatus your girl is back)

oftentimes when you desire something and are in the process of manifesting it, you end up obsessing over it; "I can't wait to get it omg when will it manifest I can't live without it" and get anxious, impatient.

but honey.. would you be impatient if you already had it? would you be anxious if it was already yours? by getting 'impatient' and 'waiting' for your desire to arrive, you're giving off the signal that you're in the state of waiting; hence your reality will make you wait.

you're under the impression that you're in the middle of the 'process' of manifesting instead of acknowledging the fact that it's literally already yours. the universe will reflect your assumption that 'its still coming' and keeps it coming 😭

it won't arrive till you decide it's already here and LET GO of the wanting state.

here's a personal example, there's this guy A and this guy B.

I was really obsessing guy A and I had been 'trying' to manifest him for months, but to no avail. I was in the state of wanting him and waiting for him therefore the universe reflected that state and STILL kept me waiting, kept me in the state of trying to get him.

but when I saw the guy B, I decided "I'll pull him for fun" and the WAY it happened so fast is crazy. He kept complimenting me and took me out on a date etc. in literally a week of us talking.

then I wondered, what did I do differently?

how come I've been doing my best and affirming, chasing guy A and nothing worked but the moment I thought I'd get guy B, I ended up getting him?

the difference was; I didn't obsess over guy B. I thought he was cool and decided I could pull him, after that I completely forgot about him and stopped thinking of him altogether; I was detached and had a belief "eh I've pulled him." so I wasn't anxious, impatient or obsessed with him because I KNEW he would like me. and that's exactly what happened. unlike guy A, whom I had put on a pedestal and desperately tried to get; guy B fell instantly because I was detached from him.

I wasn't in the state of 'chasing' I was in the state of 'attracting.' and this applies to every other desire, would you be constantly impatient and obsessing over your body if it actually was your desired body? heck you wouldn't even consider it that big of a deal because you'd know you have it. you'd know it's already here so you have nothing to wait for.

It's already here, why you waiting for something you already have? just LET IT GO.

[toudan]

Homecoming

You’re a casual fan, you think. Spider-Man is cool, and you just really like him. That’s all... until you learn that the friendly neighbourhood web-slinger is so much closer than you think.

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀female reader | superhero AU & Spider-Man Caleb | descriptions of anxiety, fluff, happy ending, mentions of blood and bruises, secrets, slice-of-life (as much as it can possibly be), some angst and hurt/comfort | ~7,6k words

A/N.⠀I really said "I'm going on a writing hiatus" and "I'm gonna lock in" with my whole chest knowing damn well I'm a liar ... anyway yeah this fic was inspired by this Spider-Man Caleb fanart... it made me go crazy.... I hope you enjoy!

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

@hunters-association @theseabreezestreet

You were on the verge of a breakthrough. You just knew it.

You were absentmindedly swinging your legs back and forth as you sat at the table. Your laptop was open and displaying several windows—some were images of Spider-Man, some were news articles. Your tablet, and in turn, your notes, had gone completely forgotten. Spending time passively scrolling social media was far from productive, but compared to what you were reading, exam revision was totally dull.

Developing an interest in Spider-Man had been unintentional. You saw him mentioned in the news. Out of curiosity, you looked him up, and all of a sudden, you found yourself deep in the rabbit hole. Before long, you were up-to-date with daily news, keeping up with his movements and making friends with fellow Spider-Man fans. It was swift and unexpected, but you found it more fun than whatever you were previously doing.

He was far from the first superhero Linkon City had seen. There used to be rumours about the God of the Tides and how he ruled the seas for centuries before he found the love of his life. There was also Lumière of the N109 zone, a vigilante who suddenly stopped being active about fourteen years ago. Legends of the Abysm Sovereign and the Foreseer were passed down through generations. No one had proof they existed, only the product of their labour. It was as if they didn’t want to be seen. Still, that didn’t stop your interest from getting piqued.

The difference between Spider-Man and the past legends of Linkon City was that Spider-Man was still active. A web-slinging genius with a no-kill rule, he made the streets significantly safer. Photos and surveillance footage of him were constantly shared, but no one had any luck finding his identity yet. You weren’t investigating him for malicious reasons. You were just, for the lack of a better word, nosy. You wanted to know the man behind the mask instead of the neighbourhood guardian the news always talks about.

You looked at your screen. There was a rough timeline of his appearances the past week. He was in different parts of the city, catching robbers and other criminals with his presumably handmade technology. There wasn’t a strict pattern to how he operated. It seemed that he liked to lurk before making a move. It was how he brought down the corrupted colonels of the Farspace Fleet. Fighting crime appeared to be easy for him, and he wasn’t as destructive as some were. It was impressive. Everything he did had you in awe. His dexterity and swiftness, his strength and courage—he was just what Linkon City needed, you thought.

Just as you were about to go into another deep dive, a hand pushed your laptop shut. Caleb was towering over you when you snapped your gaze to him, brows furrowed as you gave him an offended look. He lightly jabbed your forehead and only smiled in response, seemingly pleased with your reaction.

“You’re supposed to be studying.”

You sputtered. “I was studying!”

“No, you weren’t. You were looking at Spider-Man again.” He tapped his fingers on your tablet, reilluminating the screen once more. “Your exams are next week. You need to focus.”

“I can multitask,” you argued half-heartedly. “And, I’ve never let you down, have I?”

Caleb took the seat across from you with an exaggerated sigh. “I guess not.”

“Why do you hate Spider-Man so bad anyway?” You frowned, trying to move his hand away. He didn’t budge. “He’s keeping the city safe. That’s a good thing!”

“I don’t hate him, but you’ve been distracted. I’m trying to help you.”

“You sound jealous,” you joked. Resting your cheek in the palm of your hand, you looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Are you sad I’m not giving you enough attention?”

He pursed his lips, visibly unimpressed. “Set the table. Dinner’s ready.”

“You’re no fun!” you whined. “It’s not my fault there’s finally something interesting!”

You begrudgingly moved your items to the side and got up to make your way to the kitchen, slippers sliding against the floor. The savoury aroma swirled into the air, making your stomach growl involuntarily. Your irritation now forgotten, you made quick work of setting the table and pouring two glasses of water. With your job finished, you waited at the table, eyes drifting over to the TV on the wall. The screen displayed two reporters behind a desk beginning the evening segment. It faded into a clip of men webbed stuck to a lamppost, undoubtedly the work of Spider-Man himself. They were looking to rob an innocent passerby before the webslinger caught them red-handed.

“Huh. That’s where we live,” you spoke up after rereading the headline.

Caleb placed the plates on the table. “That’s why I always tell you to be home before curfew.”

“It’s not like I break curfew anyway,” you grumbled. “You know I hate being out when it’s dark.”

Distracted, you kept your eyes on the screen. The public had mixed opinions about Spider-Man himself. You, along with your circle of friends, thought of him as a hero, feeling safer knowing that he was out there protecting innocent people. From helping an old woman cross the street to busting evil plans, he was using his talents and intelligence for good. He worked tirelessly every day to keep the streets pristine and harmless. The police, on the other hand, weren’t as fond of him. The LCPD openly expressed their distaste for Spider-Man, citing that he was an obstacle in their investigations. Some people thought he was just another guy with a gimmick. These criticisms didn’t seem to bother him at all. If anything, every time someone said anything negative about him, he’d work even harder just to prove them wrong.

You knew it was far from wise to idolise a public figure, but with Spider-Man, he inspired you to do your best every day. You liked to imagine he’d be proud of you if he knew you. You worked hard and powered through no matter how many setbacks you had. As silly and childish as it sounded, he made for great motivation. He was a good guy, he was cool, and—

Caleb waved his hand in front of your face, a warning tone in his voice. “Pipsqueak.”

You jolted, snapping back to the present. “Sorry!”

“Why do you like Spider-Man so much?” he asked, poking at his food. “You got a crush on him?”

You sputtered. “What? No!”

He gave you a look that urged you to continue. Heat rose to your face as you felt a spotlight shining down upon you, giving you the floor. It was hard not to feel embarrassed about something that felt so childish. You hummed thoughtfully, trying to think of words to say. Knowing you were going to sound like a child regardless, you sulked, defeated, and finally gave him a response.

“It’s just… I really like superheroes,” you mumbled timidly, fiddling with your fingers. “I admire people who use their strength for good. Like you!”

The corners of his lips twitched. He seemed pleased. “So do you like me or Spider-Man more?”

“You are jealous!” you said with an accusatory tone. “Caleb, it’s not like that! It’s like… You know when you have a favourite celebrity? That’s what Spider-Man is to me.”

He made a face, though he ended up relenting. “Okay. I get it.”

“Yeah! It’s kinda like how you used to like—”

“Your food’s gonna get cold,” he interrupted, flustered. “I put all my effort into making your favourite. Don’t let it go to waste.”

“Fine,” you drawled out, unable to hold back the smile from stretching across your lips.

Spider-Man eventually faded to the back of your mind throughout dinnertime. You found yourself engrossed in conversation with Caleb, slipping into the normal banter and routine with ease. Somewhere in between, he changed the channel to natural documentaries instead. When you gave him a questioning look, he just shrugged and said that you should take a break with him. Not one to deny his requests, your laptop went forgotten as you spent the remainder of the night on the couch with him.

It was nearing midnight, and from the way that you yawned, you were nearing your limit as well. The documentary was long finished; the past few minutes were just advertisement after advertisement, regular products with unnecessarily catchy jingles. You glanced over at him, suddenly curious. Unlike you, he didn’t seem to be tired at all. If you were more awake, you’d notice the anxious bouncing of his leg or the worried furrow in his brow, but fatigue was catching up to you fast. With another yawn, you pushed yourself to your feet, taking the throw blanket with you.

“Goodnight, Caleb.”

He smiled at you. “Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Fully sated and worn out, sleep came as easily as breathing. Images flickered behind your eyes, displaying dreams and vignettes in film reels. You dreamt of endless summers and sweetness, of growing up and exploring the world. When you woke up the next day, only a fragment of those memories remained. Caleb was already gone when you left your room. He left a note saying he’d left early and that breakfast was in the fridge. After treating yourself to his homemade cooking, you set off for classes and got the day started. It wasn’t very eventful. Classes weren’t particularly interesting. Lectures were about things you already knew, and a majority of your classmates were absent, leading to little to no conversation. Before long, the academic day was over, and it was time to return home.

The streets were bustling with activity as you waded through the crowd. Clamour and chatter were more than loud, people surrounded you, and the scent of car fumes mixed with savoury food bombarded all of your senses. You were starting to see now why people liked to say that Linkon City never sleeps. With everyone getting off work, the city was beyond crowded. Restaurants were fully seated, as were the cafés. Traffic went by incredibly slowly. Dogs barked to the sound of car horns and people were emerging from the train station in groups. You gripped your bag tightly, anxiety clawing at the back of your mind. News and posters about pickpockets were nearly a regular occurrence; it was better to be safe than sorry.

You managed to make it to a street where there were less people. You recognised some of the vendors out and about, offering them warm smiles as you walked past. Occasionally, you stopped by and bought a few snacks to take home. Now having your hands full, you were more than ready to go home and unwind. You hummed a catchy pop tune under your breath, leisurely walking down the path when the TV screens in the electronic stores came alive. You came to a stop, standing in front of the clear glass. It was a news segment. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the screen displaying surveillance of Spider-Man was context enough.

He single-handedly stopped a burglary, moving with inhuman agility and fighting with incredible strength. It showed a group of men bound together by his webs, cursing and fruitlessly struggling to break free. It took a few seconds before the familiarity of the background sank in. The convenience store, the townhouses and the DVD store… The incident happened not too far from home. A frown overtook your features. Despite the crime rate being significantly lower thanks to Spider-Man’s efforts, the curfew was still in place, and the unrest remained. It was not any different for you.

As you made a move to continue your walk, you felt something being snatched from your grasp—your bag. The thief ran at full speed, deftly navigating through the crowd as you yelled for help and followed him, aggressive footfalls slapping against the concrete. Absentminded apologies left your lips whenever a complaint was heard from a passerby. Your chest was beginning to ache, but you needed it back. It had everything. Your phone, your wallet, your house keys with the chain Caleb bought for you. You couldn’t afford to lose it.

The traffic light turned red just as the thief crossed to the other side. You contemplated just dashing through, but anxiety kept you rooted to your spot. They were going further into the distance. You bounced on your heels nervously, eyes glaring at the timer. 40, 39, 38…

It was now or never.

Cars honked at you as you ran to the other side, the combination of noise nearly sending you jumping out of your skin. You pushed through your fatigue and kept running until you tripped over your shoelaces, collapsing to the ground with a loud thud. You hopelessly reached out, watching the thief’s silhouette disappear into the distance. Tears of frustration sprang up to your eyes and you buried your face in your hands, uncaring of how you looked to other people. You weren’t fast enough. All your important things were gone, about to be left somewhere you could never find, and your information would be stolen—

“This yours?”

Your bag was dangling in front of you. Were you so distraught that you were hallucinating having someone come to your aid? You blinked and stared at it dumbly, your mind trying to grapple with the situation. The person crouched down to your level, and Spider-Man’s face came into view.

Wait…

You screamed in surprise, frantically pushing yourself away from him. “What—”

“Hey, hey, It’s okay. It’s just me. I webbed him. He’ll be stuck there for another three hours,” he said casually, speaking as though he was just another regular pedestrian and not the famed vigilante of Linkon City. “I had to look at your ID card to make sure it was you, but I’m glad I got to you in time. Here, take it.”

You barely managed to catch the bag as you were still gawking at him. What felt like a thousand questions were popping up rapidly in your head. How did he know? When did he get here? What was going on? How was he so fast? Caught off guard by your stunned silence, he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his head sheepishly, feeling awkward under your stare.

“Everything okay?” Spider-Man asked tentatively, waving a hand in front of your face. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, your reaction slightly delayed. “N-No.”

“Listen, I have to go. There’s gonna be a robbery on Ninth Street.” He helped you get on your feet, carefully making sure you had your balance. “Get home safe, okay? And don’t leave past curfew.”

“Okay,” you said, dumbfounded. It didn’t take long before you managed to snap yourself back to awareness. “Yeah, okay. Thank you for getting this back to me.”

He did a casual salute before aiming his web shooter at a building, swinging away with ease. Digging through your bag, you were relieved to find that everything was intact. Once the confusion went away, excitement came rushing in. You hastily grabbed your phone and dialled Caleb’s number, lips curling into a grin. He picked up after the first ring.

“What’s up?”

“You will not believe what just happened to me,” you said in one breath. “I just met Spider-Man.”

A loud crash was heard in the background.

You hesitated. “Are you busy? It sounds like you’re in the middle of something…”

“Everything’s fine, don’t worry about it. So, you met Spider-Man?”

You nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see you.

“Uh, pipsqueak?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I did! I’m walking home right now. Someone tried to steal my wallet and I couldn’t catch them, but Spider-Man did and he got it back for me. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Someone tried to rob you?” You could practically hear the frown in his voice. “Why didn’t you call me?”

You blinked. “You’re at work. What were you gonna do?”

He fell silent. It took a couple of beats before he spoke up again.

“Well, I’m glad you got your stuff back. Just make sure to be home before sundown. Tell me when you’re back, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be back in time for dinner, I promise.”

“It’s okay! Take your time,” you reassured him. “I’m heading home now. See you.”

You had a pep in your step for the rest of the way, feeling in high spirits after the encounter. The weight on your shoulders was lifted, leaving you feeling lighter. You didn’t realise how much you needed to breathe. Relieved would be an understatement—it was as if everything fixed itself in front of you. You didn’t generally consider yourself a lucky person, but today, you had won. The encounter with Spider-Man replayed itself in your mind, echoing his voice, reminding you of the proximity you shared.

After sending Caleb a quick text to let him know you got back safely, you began to cool down from the day. You tossed your keys on the counter and went straight for your room, determined to change out of your sweaty clothes. Since he was normally the one to cook dinner, you didn’t have to do much preparation in the kitchen. You put away the clean dishes, washed the leftover ones in the sink, and decided to tidy up a little. With your tasks done, you returned to the living room and flopped down onto the couch with a groan. Though you didn’t hold high expectations for what was on TV, you turned it on for background noise anyway, half-listening to the dialogue in the show that was playing.

The clock on the wall continued to tick. Caleb would get off work soon. You ended up smiling to yourself, excited to tell him about your day. Lying comfortably on the couch, you continued to passively scroll through social media to kill time. You were beginning to hear the telltale sounds of people returning home. The sound of a car door closing, your neighbour’s doorbell ringing, eager dogs overjoyed to see their owner home. Considering the traffic you’d seen earlier, Caleb returning a little later than usual wouldn’t be that irregular.

With that in mind, your worries were eased a little. But as minutes faded into hours, nighttime came, and not a single call or message from Caleb was seen. Worried, you sent him a text, only for them to be left on delivered. Calling him led straight to voicemail. Growing increasingly agitated, you called him again and again, only to achieve the same result. He always told you if he was going to be late. He always picked up after the first ring. But your attempts to get through to him went unseen, and it was getting harder trying not to sink into your anxiety the longer his silence went.

You paced around the room, fingers clutching your phone as the call went to voicemail again. Your eagerness for dinner had long dissipated and was replaced by immense dread. Worst-case scenarios were starting to appear in your mind, fuelling your panic with its increasingly violent visions. You chewed on your nail as you paced back and forth, trying to reach Caleb to no avail. The situation was growing more dire with each passing second.

You glanced at the time. It was three in the morning. You were wide awake on pure adrenaline and distress. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel tired. It was as though all of your senses were on high alert. Everything was too loud, too much, and your clothes felt rough against your skin. Instinctively, you made your way into his room and crawled into his bed, hugging his pillow and rocking back and forth. The smell of his detergent and perfume soothed you enough to have you breathing normally again. Your fingertips dug into the material, knuckles going white and shaking from how rigid your grip was.

The world started to feel less daunting when you finally calmed down. You felt exhausted, completely boneless. Your eyelids were getting heavier, and as you lay there surrounded by everything he owned, you found yourself falling slowly. The room is dim with only the city lights outside peeking in through the curtains. You felt a cold draft coming through the window, sending shivers running down your spine. Fabric rustled and you felt the mattress dip, immediately jolting you awake. A mixture of relief and fury washed over you.

“Caleb?”

His breath hitched.

You blindly patted the nightstand in search of the lamp switch. Once the room was illuminated, you squinted at him through half-lidded eyes. “Where the hell have you been?” you asked groggily. “I’ve been—”

Your eyes dropped to his outfit. It was the same suit that Spider-Man wore, although more torn and worn down. Whatever tiredness was left in your system dissipated when you saw him. You sat still for a few moments, trying to contemplate whether you were imagining things or if this was real. You didn’t know where to begin. It was as if time stopped. There he was, the person you had been waiting for, standing at the foot of the bed like a deer caught in the headlights. You stared at him with your mouth agape, your mind struggling to put the pieces together despite the obviousness in front of you.

You didn’t know where to begin. Did he always sneak back home like this? What happened to him? In the end, you settled for the most urgent one in your mind—

“How long have you been hiding this from me?”

He forced a smile, the gesture awkward and tense. “A couple of months.”

“Months?” you asked, voice rising in volume. “You’ve been—you—god, I don’t even know what to say.”

“I’m sorry.”

You pursed your lips. “Come here.”

He tentatively complied, sitting down in the spot next to you. Your hands cradled his face, thumbs brushing over the bruises and making him grimace slightly. He didn’t say a single word. It was as if he was also dumbfounded himself. You were still upset, but the longer you looked at him, the more the anger faded. At least he was home. Injured, but still home in one piece. It was leagues better than the thousands of scenarios your mind was conjuring up earlier.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“I know,” he murmured, voice uncharacteristically meek. It was unlike the Caleb you grew up with.

“But it can wait,” you said, pulling him into a hug. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I was worried about you.”

His arms wrapped themselves around your waist and he held you close to him, a shaky breath escaping his lips. He held onto you with a desperation you’d never seen before. He relaxed into your touch just the slightest, reassured by feeling your warm body against his. You pressed your cheek to where his heart would be, feeling its steady rhythm remind you that he was here—that he was home.

Your voice was meek when you spoke. “I thought you left me.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“So you decided with radio silence?” you snarked back. Something in his expression flickered, making you calm down once again. You frowned at the amount of bruises visible on his face and the dried blood on his split lip. Softening, you told him, “Go take a shower and get changed. I’ll patch you up.”

He didn’t argue. He only nodded and disappeared into the bathroom, walking sluggishly. The sound of running water filled the stifling stillness as you took a proper glance around the room. There was an evidence board, several open books, and a well-used first aid kit on the desk. Your heart sank. Just how long had he been doing this, getting himself hurt and having to mend himself? Didn’t he trust you? Why did he keep this a secret from you? You heaved out a sigh and hid your face in your hands, frustration and sadness simmering beneath the surface.

There were a lot of questions you wanted to ask, but this wasn’t the right time. Right now, all you could do was be there for him.

He emerged a handful of minutes later, dressed in comfortable clothes. You scooted over and patted the space next to you, lips pressed in a taut frown. Now that the suit was off, you could see the hits he’d taken more clearly. Splashes of blue and purple were scattered across his skin, some big and some small. There were a couple of cuts and scrapes close by, both old and new. It was the worst you’d ever seen him.

“Sit,” you urged timidly. You gingerly applied the ointment on his bruises, careful not to hurt him as he stared up at you. He looked so vulnerable and so fragile that it made you feel like your heart was going to burst out of its confines. “Talk to me. Please.”

“It was Gran,” he said. “She made a serum. I didn’t know it until a few days later. I was stronger, faster… I could hear everything. I could feel everything.”

“How come I never knew this?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. I’m supposed to be your hero, remember?” He laughed in a self-deprecating way, avoiding your gaze. “I had to stay strong. Figure things out, get stronger… Make sure you’d always be safe.”

Setting the first aid kit aside, you pulled him into your arms once again. He held onto you tightly, fingers grabbing the fabric of your shirt so tightly that his hands were trembling. You raked your fingers through his hair and brushed them back, keeping them away from the wounds on his face. For a moment, it felt like there were only the two of you in the world. All you could hear was his quiet breathing as he latched onto you, unwilling to let go.

It broke your heart to see him this way.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t rely on me.”

“No, that’s not it,” he sighed. “I’d go through anything for you. I just… I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t keep any secrets from me anymore.” You pulled away. He looked up at you with a pained expression, years of secrecy and isolation making themselves known in his glossy eyes, the quiver of his bottom lip. “Can you do that for me?”

He nodded weakly.

“I need words, Caleb,” you said, your voice firmer than intended. You cupped the side of his face, feeling him clasp your hand with his own, warm and calloused. “Can you promise me that?”

“I can,” he exhaled shakily. “I promise.”

The tears you were holding back brimmed at the corners of your eyes, small droplets sliding down the sides of your face. A hushed whimper broke out of you. Caleb held on to you like you were his lifeline, refusing to let go for even a split second. The gravity of his words weighed heavy, as did him baring his heart. He melted in your embrace, sinking deep into your comfort as you gently scratched his scalp, easing every worry he was holding.

“Don’t lie to me again, okay?” you murmured into his ear.

“I won’t anymore. I swear.”

—

Though months seemed to have passed in the blink of an eye, the emotional turmoil stayed deep in your heart the entire time.

Life had turned completely upside down. With the new knowledge of him being Spider-Man looming over you, you were having trouble placing yourself. Some days, you felt excited and happy for him. He was more open with you when it came to his successes. He’d tell you about the petty criminals he caught or the passersby he helped while swinging through the city. He was passionate about his identity as Spider-Man, and he was committed. You wanted to support him in every step of the way. Some days, you’d feel like you were sinking. You previously didn’t worry all too much when Caleb returned home late, but since that day, fear and anxiety kept you company on lonely nights.

He didn’t always return looking completely beat up. Sometimes he was unscathed. Sometimes it was just a couple of bruises. But you hated being home alone, especially in the dark where everything seemed to get much worse. You were losing sleep because you’d stay up to wait for him to come home. You needed to see him with your own eyes, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep in peace. He tried to give you estimated times to soothe you, but it didn’t always work. You’d wait in the living room, rock yourself back and forth as you wondered if he was coming home.

Your mind wouldn’t let you forget that he lied, either. You already forgave him a long time ago, but you remembered. You’d question yourself, question him, and what would come after was an overwhelming sense of guilt. He was trying. He was more open. He was showing you an important part of himself, bringing you along with him on his journey, yet doubts still lingered in your mind. He kept his cheerful disposition, constantly reassuring you that everything was going to be fine, but your mind was filled with what-ifs. What if he was hiding more from you? What if he was lying? What if he thought of you as a burden?

It was irrational to feel this way. You knew that very well, and yet, you still felt like you were fading out of his life. You talked to Caleb normally, interacted with him like you always did, but something felt different. It was as if he was drifting further and further away from you. Your outstretched hand, desperately trying to reach him, and his fading silhouette. Everything had changed. You felt like you were losing him in real time and there was nothing you could do about it. Everything had changed, yet it was all the same. You still had breakfast together. He still picked up the phone after the first ring. He still smiled at you, looked at you like you were his whole world. You were teetering between security and uncertainty. You didn’t want to feel this way, but you were helpless. These feelings came by themselves, and the more time you spent alone, the more difficult it became to ignore them.

Your sentiments towards Spider-Man had only grown stronger with the knowledge that Caleb was him. His name was more well-known in the city, growing popular among kids and women, and he was constantly being praised by the press. You supported him. You had total faith in him, trusted in him and his strength. But sometimes you’d stay awake stressing about how safe things truly were. More fame meant more notoriety among criminals, and you’d often wonder how long it would be before something drastic happened. You wanted the best for him, you really did, but something guttural gnawed at you. The desire to keep him to yourself, the need to protect him. You wanted to sink your teeth into his flesh, to keep him in your maw. You wanted to hide him away somewhere only you knew.

You dreamt of it sometimes—of risking your life for him just to keep him safe. You constantly wondered if things would be easier for him if you left. You knew there was much that he wasn’t sharing with you yet. You knew it would take time regardless of how much he trusted you, Still, you felt as though you were being kept in the dark. Being Spider-Man seemed to be so easy for him. It suited him, even. You couldn’t see anyone else doing the same thing that he did. But you didn’t know what you were meant to be. You felt for him very deeply, as did he, but the vagueness in the air bothered you more and more every day.

Were you only being selfish?

You thought back on one of the mornings you spent with him. A full spread of breakfast lay across the table and the news played in the background. The sun was shining bright, peeking through the gap between the curtains, and the weather was good. But there was a sense of foreboding that loomed over you, one that you couldn’t keep to yourself. You called his name softly, leading him to look away from the screen.

“Are you okay?” you asked. He blinked at you, confused by the question.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Somehow, it wasn’t enough.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t know.

“I’m good. Sorry, I just thought you looked a little distracted.”

The lie slipped out of you with ease. You felt childish. You felt burdensome for needing reassurance from him that he wasn’t going to leave you behind, but you could never bring yourself to say it. Between your pride and the overwhelming fear of rejection, the words you desperately wanted to stay would remain within the confines of your mind. He didn’t seem to be convinced by any means, but he didn’t push the matter. A part of you wished he did.

It wasn’t a fight. There was nothing wrong. Even when he returned home blood and bruised, exhausted out of his mind, you took care of him with love and care. It didn’t matter that you didn’t understand why he was risking his life. Caleb never broke his promises or broke away from the path to his goals. He wasn’t about to let you stop him. With great power comes great responsibility, he said. But was this responsibility thrust upon him, or was he doing it out of his volition?

You hated feeling helpless. You knew he didn’t need you to do anything, but you felt like you weren’t an integral part of his life anymore. You felt like a bystander, like someone he was slowly forgetting. You shouldn’t feel this way. You should feel happy that he still cared about you, that he cared about the city to give his all into protecting it, yet your mind just wouldn’t let you. Your thoughts on Caleb hadn’t changed. You still thought he was the most important person to you, but what used to be admiration and even love for Spider-Man was turning into resentment little by little.

Some days, you hated him. You felt like a little kid without her favourite toy. You felt like a lonely child in a class full of people. You knew it was useless to dwell on these things, so you tried to occupy yourself. You put all your effort into your studies. You kept yourself busy doing chores even on the days when it was his turn. You didn’t wait to eat dinner with him; you went out for food and drinks with your friends, came back a bit later than the sunset. It wasn’t as if he’d notice. He wasn’t home when you needed him to be.

His name was constantly trending on social media. Spider-Man rescues bus from hijackers. Spider-Man stops bank robbery. Spider-Man comics and merchandise releasing. His name became the talk of the town, earning the attention of the rest of the country. The newfound fame kept him even busier to the point where people were starting to dig deeper into his true identity, leading fans and investigators to wait outside your home. You kept ignoring them, but they were persistent. Your declining of their questions only made them more curious. Not only did you feel like he was slipping out of your grasp, but also like the safety of home was in jeopardy.

It wasn’t his fault. You couldn’t blame him for it. But sometimes you wondered if he knew just how much this was affecting you, as self-centred as it seemed. The satisfaction you expected from uncovering the truth about Spider-Man never came. The final piece of the puzzle was right in front of you, living and breathing under the same roof as you were, and all you could harbour was disappointment.

What Caleb was doing was major. He was keeping the city safe—keeping his home safe, for you and everyone. You found yourself sinking further into guilt and bitterness, the light at the surface growing smaller as you fell deeper and deeper. It was childish of you to be throwing a tantrum over something like this. So, you decided to grin and bear it. He understood you like the back of his hand; doing the same to him was the very least you could do. You pestered him less about his missions, stopped trying to call again and again when he didn’t respond. He’d always come home, even if it took days. He never broke promises. He promised he wouldn’t.

If he noticed the change in you, he didn’t mention it. His actions, however, said otherwise. He did his best to pay more attention to you. He tried to spend as much time with you as he could despite your conflicting schedules. He listened to everything you spoke about, promised you to be careful when you asked, and continued to protect you in his own way. You didn’t know exactly what it was that seemed to switch the dynamic completely, but at a certain point, you were no longer drowning in the pool of negativity. The sun seemed to shine brighter, the flowers in full bloom, and your cheeks ached from how much you’d been smiling. The lingering sense of foreboding faded into nothingness, replaced by pure optimism and trust. The future didn’t feel so glum anymore.

You supposed all you needed was time.

Time to heal, time to process everything. Time had a way of turning wounds into scars, healing phantom pains into a comfortable stillness. The claws that had your heart in a death grip had loosened, letting go of the chains they wrapped around it. You felt lighter, happier. Some semblance of normalcy had returned—as normal as it could be considering his dual life, but you weren’t going to take it for granted. You felt like you could finally breathe after being underwater for so long. Even here, where you were alone in the apartment, you didn’t feel lonely. It was… normal. A relief. It didn’t feel so suffocating anymore.

It was quiet save for the sound of your nails tapping against the keyboard. It was a sunny afternoon. Having had a productive morning, you aimed to finish the rest of the day in the same way. You were focused and determined to finish the essay quickly so you had more free time. But as the hours went by, that determination waned, and you found yourself at a dead end. You blankly stared at the blinking cursor on the word document. It almost felt like the thing was mocking you. Fatigue and boredom were catching up to you increasingly quickly. You knew the material by heart. You knew what you wanted to talk about. Yet no words came to mind—you were drawing a blank, and the thoughts in your mind were already drifting off elsewhere.

The counter was littered with snacks, surely something Caleb would chide you for. Your tumbler was long empty, left with nothing but melted ice cubes at the bottom. The dishes awaited cleaning in the sink and the TV remained turned on, playing a rerun of some generic soap opera. Defeated, you closed the word document, eyes drifting to the window beside you.

Outside, the skyline was painted in hues of orange and blue. Birds flew over the horizon, ready to migrate elsewhere for the upcoming spring. Your chest rose and fell with your exhale as you let your mind wander. You used up your creativity for the day, you thought. You haven’t made significant progress on the essay since you started it a few hours ago. Before you could beat yourself up about it, three loud knocks were heard from the window. Caleb’s masked face peeked over the wall as he gave you a gentle wave. Giddy, you got off your chair and skipped over, fingers deftly undoing the lock on its doors. You slid it open, allowing him to crawl in.

“I thought you were busy fighting crime,” you teased, watching as he took the mask off. His hair was tousled and his cheeks were flushed from exertion. “Are you slacking off?”

He huffed, amused. “I can multitask.”

He unhid his hand from his back and handed you a large bouquet of sunflowers, the gesture immediately making you melt. Flowers weren’t that out of the ordinary. Caleb liked bringing you gifts and trinkets he thinks you’d like. You got an equally large bouquet during your high school graduation and another one when you were accepted into university. You took it with a smile, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you’ and curiously looking at him. He bounced on the heels of his feet, seemingly nervous about something. His brows knitted together.

“You okay?”

He met your gaze. “Do you still think Spider-Man is better than me?”

You blinked a few times, confused. From the way he said it, it appeared that it wasn’t the first time he thought of something like this. You chuckled and crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight to the other leg.

“Getting jealous of yourself, Caleb?” It was your turn to be amused. “I never said he was my number one hero.”

“You never said I was your number one hero either.”

You sighed in mock exasperation. “Why is this important? You’re the same person.”

“I just wanna know,” he said, uncharacteristically sheepish.

“First of all, that happened once,” you corrected, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Second of all, I love you. Spider-Man or not.”

His lips curled into a smile. “You love me?”

Warmth blossomed across your chest, rising all the way up to your cheeks as your lips parted in surprise, sputtering incoherent syllables. You awkwardly turned your head away, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Love had never been discussed, not really. It just felt like an unspoken commitment since you were children. He was the most important person to you, and you were the most important person to him. You never really thought about labelling your relationship.

Your eyes widened when you remembered you always referred to him as your partner whenever you spoke of him to your friends. You already gave it a label without realising it. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish, struggling to come up with a reply. You could feel his gaze on you, hear the satisfaction and mischief in his words. Clearing your throat, you tried to compose yourself and decided to follow through. You couldn’t take it back anyway, and even if you could, you didn’t want to.

“Yeah. I do,” you said, feigning indifference. “I thought you knew that.”

He couldn’t stop the smile from expanding into a grin. A breathless chuckle left him. His cheeks seemed to be getting even pinker as he fidgeted in his spot. He scratched the back of his head with flustered giddiness, struggling to keep eye contact with you. You didn’t think you ever saw him this shy. He was always your brave hero Caleb, the same boy who held you when you had nightmares, the same boy who held your hand when the thunderstorms got too loud. He was the same boy who defended you from bullies and got into trouble for getting into a fight with them. He was the same man who held nothing but affection in his words for you, the same man who would fall into playful banter with you.

You sighed softly, the corners of your lips twitching up. “You’re not gonna say it back?”

Though he didn’t need to, there was still a hint of insecurity in your tone. You looked at him expectantly, still watching as he tried to maintain composure. You weren’t used to seeing him this way, but you thought you could learn to do it. It made for a rather nice sight.

“I love you too, pipsqueak,” he finally said.

You beamed at him, placing the bouquet on the counter before leaping into his arms, delightfully laughing when he caught you effortlessly. You looped your arms around his neck and hooked your chin on his shoulder. Your legs were wrapped around him, your body supported by his arms around your waist. He held you as if you were as light as a feather. He nuzzled into your hair, letting out a content sigh. The air felt so light, so carefree. The remnants of your worries disappeared into the air, replaced by pure joy and unbridled affection.

“So… What’s the plan? Are you done with the day?”

“I’m going back to work. They need me,” he replied. With a jovial tone, he continued. “But I’ll be back for dinner.”

“You mean it this time?” You pulled away, searching into his eyes for honesty. You were still prone to worrying. His vigilante lifestyle was full of unpredictable moments, so it consistently kept you on your toes, leaving you unaware of what to expect. You were desperate for his words to be true. You felt as though you’ve been away from him for way too long. You craved his presence, his warmth—you craved him.

He gave you a boyish smile. “Yeah. I do.”

And that was a promise.

[honeyedmiller]

Mr. Bakery Man

baker!joel miller x f!reader

rating: none

synopsis: it’s not every day you get to move from nyc to austin for your job and relish in a pleasant change of pace. it’s also not every day that you discover a cute family owned bakery in the heart of austin—and it’s definitely not every day that you meet the owner and fall head over heels for him.

warnings: this is pure, innocent tooth-rotting fluff ; fun flirting, we’ll call this one a hallmark type beat lol, sarah and ellie are both in this, joel is down bad in this (but so is reader), no use of y/n.

word count: 3.3k

a/n: this was supposed to be for @punkshort’s au writing challenge but i’m hella late on it. life has been crazy lately, but thanks for sticking with me during my unintentional hiatus 🤍

Moving from New York City to Austin Texas had been an oddity in life’s recent escapades. 

Your job had asked if anyone in your department was willing to do the big move because the office in Austin needed a strong journalist on their growing team. With the rest of your colleagues having kids and spouses, nobody was interested in uprooting their whole life to move to a completely different state. 

You, on the other hand, wanted to get out of New York. You yearned for new opportunities, and when this one arose, you didn’t hesitate to tell your boss you were interested. 

You’d been slowly settling into Austin, getting used to life in another city with a completely different atmosphere. You were grateful your new colleagues were all very nice and welcoming. 

The one thing you’d say you missed dearly back in New York City, though, was this amazing bakery off of Fifth you’d frequent before work. Their coffee and croissants were delicious, which is what led you to go on a Google hunt to see what bakeries were good around here in Austin. 

One caught your eye immediately—Sarah & Ellie’s— with five star reviews and multiple photos of all the sweets they had to offer. It was a cozy little café and bakery mixed into one with a homey, warm vibe and cute decorations. You mapped it to see how long it would take you to get to the place, and to your luck, it was only a ten minute walk from your apartment complex. So, you decided you were going to go first thing in the morning before work. 

And for some reason, you felt excited to try a new place. Maybe it was a sign of finally getting used to living in a completely different state, fifteen hundred miles away from your old life. 

You luckily got used to being an early riser, so once morning had rolled around, you were up n’ at ‘em by six thirty. You left your house around seven, making your way down to Sarah & Ellie’s. 

The shop felt more homey than it looked online. As soon as you stepped in, there was already a short line of customers and a waft of delicious baked goods and coffee that filled your senses. You suddenly yearned for a home you’d never even been to. 

You stood in line and observed the menu, deciding on sticking with a classic chocolate croissant and latte for the time being. You wanted to see if this place held a candle up to the place off of Fifth. 

The older gentleman in front of you greeted the cashier with a bright smile, and she immediately typed in an order. 

“Hey Randy, how’s it going?” 

“Hey sweet pea. Just here for my usual mornin’ coffee and danish,” he says, handing the girl a ten dollar bill. She counts out the change and closes the register with her hip before returning his beaming smile to him. “Tell your old man to stop workin’ so damn hard. Cheryl says I need to lay off the sweets once in a while, but I can’t do that if all his baked goods are too delicious to resist.” Randy pats his stomach with a satisfied hum, and the girl laughs. 

“I’ll be sure to pass on the message. Have a good one!” 

After she waves him off, she locks eyes with you and gives you the same beaming smile as you stepped up to the register. 

“What can I get ya, Miss?” she asks, tone cheery and light. 

“I’ll take a chocolate croissant and a latte, please.” 

She nods and rings in your order, grabbing a cup to write your name on it. 

“Not to intrude or anything, but are you new ‘round here?” Her tone is still light, laced with pure curiosity as the sharpie pen hovers over the latte cup. 

You gave her a smile and nodded meekly, “I am.” 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Sarah.” 

You give her your name and her smile never wavers, scribbling your name on the cup. 

“Let me get that chocolate croissant for you—” she started, but was accidentally cut off by a man opening the door that separated the front of the café from the back. 

“Hey babydoll, do we have anymore—” the man stops abruptly, eyes landing on you. A black apron adorned his clearly thick and strong physique, flour dusted on his hands and arms. He was tall, and had a sweet glint in his brown eyes that made warmth flood your whole body. He had a head full of thick brown curls with grays strewn in here and there, and the mustache along with the stubble on his chin mirrored the streaks in his hair.

He instantly gave off a charming aura, and when he smiled at you, you were a goner. 

“Hello Miss. Don’t think we’ve ever met before,” he says, dusting his hands off on the apron before extending one to you. His Southern accent dripped like thick, pure honey, and it made your skin burn hot. 

You couldn’t hold back your smile when you reached your hand out to shake his. It might’ve sounded cliché as hell, but the sudden surge you got from just touching him made every single cell in your body alert, yearning for more. 

“I’m new in the city,” you explain, “Just moved here not too long ago.” 

“Ah, makes sense. Think I’d remember ya even if you didn’t come in often.” 

You’re taken aback by his words. Was he… flirting? You felt your face heat, and your eyes nervously flit to the glass case full of delicious looking pastries. Well, if he was flirting, there’s no harm in doing it back… right? 

“Me coming in often depends,” you find yourself grinning like a fool, “Do your pastries taste as good as they look and smell?” 

“They’re the best in Austin,” he winks, and with that, murmurs something to Sarah before giving you one last smile before walking to the back again. 

Sarah can’t help but giggle as she hands you your croissant. “It’s on the house,” she waves her hand as you pull out your wallet, and you stop short to give her a confused look. She clocks the expression on your face and grins. “Dad said.” 

“That’s your dad?” You didn’t mean to pry, you were just taken aback. 

“Mhm. Family owned and operated bakery,” you immediately hear the pride in her voice, and you can’t help but smile. “I’ll have your latte out in a minute.” 

You grin and nod, stepping over to the other side of the counter. You decided to take a bite of your croissant while you waited for your latte, and god, it was the best pastry you think you’d ever had. The croissants on Fifth had nothing against these gooey, decadent, flaky treats. 

You nearly had to hold back a moan, and the man—Randy, you think—laughed beside you. 

“Good, ain’t they?” he asks, and you nodded expeditiously. 

“Probably the best croissant I’ve ever had.” 

Randy nods in agreement, “Miller’s the best baker in Austin. Been comin’ here since his girls were little.” 

And you finally figured that Ellie must be his other daughter. It warmed your heart that he’d name his place after his two girls, clearly his pride and joy. 

“That’s so nice,” you say, and give him a quick wave goodbye when his order is called out. 

“Hopefully I’ll see you again soon,” Randy shot you a smile before taking a sip of his drink, and you nod at him with a smile before you turn your attention to your name being called out. Sarah handed you your drink and you thanked her, taking a cautious sip. 

Even the latte was superb. You were one hundred percent sold on this place, and maybe even a little smitten with the owner. 

Yeah, you’d definitely be coming back. 

-

A month passes by before you know it, and you’re now deemed an honorable regular at Sarah & Ellie’s. You’ve met Ellie, who was a total opposite of her sister—but you loved both of their personalities all the same. You learned that Ellie was going to art school and you promised her you’d buy a commissioned piece. 

Sarah was going to school for business, studying to take over the bakery one day, and possibly even expand it as a franchise. You told her you’d be at the grand opening the day that it happens. 

As for the owner, Mr. Miller—or, Mr. Bakery Man, you teasingly called him—kept the flirting subtle but fun. You looked forward to the playful banter you two’d exchange, and it always earned a raised brow and a not-so-subtle smirk from either Sarah or Ellie. 

Unbeknownst to you, they’d tease their father about the ‘crush’ he had on the pretty regular that came in and how he should buck up and ask you on a date. 

And he planned to do just that. When you went in on a Saturday morning, you were surprised to see him working the front counter instead of one of the girls. 

“Well if it isn’t Mr. Bakery Man,” you say, and he runs a hand through his hair. 

“In the flesh,” he says, and you can’t help but laugh. 

“Girls didn’t come in today?” You lean up against the counter as he grabs a latte cup, writing your name out on it. He hesitates for a moment, but continues to write on it before setting it down on the opposite countertop. 

“Nah. Sarah was up late doing homework and it’s Ellie’s turn to have Saturday off.”

You nod in understanding, pulling out your wallet. He stops you and shakes his head, and you scoff. 

“You have to let me pay, Mr. Miller. You can’t keep giving me these discounts.” 

“Don’t worry about it, darlin’,” his smile was shy, and he was fidgety—almost like he was scared. Right when you opened your mouth to ask him if he was okay, he cut you off. 

“Would you wanna go on a date with me?” His words were rushed, and your heart melted at how nervous he sounded. 

You paused your movements completely, meeting those warm brown eyes that made you feel so safe. 

“I’d love to,” you answered, and relief visibly washed over his features. 

“Great. I, uh, wrote my name and number on your cup. Hope you don’t mind,” he says, and you have to bite back a smile. Then you suddenly realized you never even knew this man’s first name. You’d just stuck with calling him the nickname you gave him, or by his last name. 

You took the cup from him gingerly as he finished making your drink a few minutes later, and turned it in your hand to see his name and number scrawled on the side as promised. 

Joel. 

The name fit the gorgeous man in front of you. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, and your palm landed on his insanely toned bicep with reassurance. 

He stared at you, the warmth in his eyes nearly making you weak in the knees. 

“I promise I’ll call you,” you say, giving his bicep a soft squeeze. Your hand falls to your side again before grabbing the croissant from the counter that you didn’t notice until now, and you eagerly took a bite. 

Joel wanted to laugh at the chocolate on the side of your mouth as you tilted the pastry toward him. He restrained himself from reaching up and wiping it from your mouth, but you beat him to it by using your knuckle to wipe it off. 

“Compliments to the chef.” You tease, wiggling your eyebrows. 

He couldn’t help but admire your playful side, ecstatic that you agreed to go out with him. 

“Anythin’ for you darlin’,” he said, and you left the bakery that day with a smile on your face that you couldn’t wipe. 

That night, you found yourself pacing back and forth in your apartment as you chewed on your bottom lip. Your phone was clutched in your hand, keypad open and ready to dial. Your other hand had the empty coffee cup with his name and number. 

You didn’t know why you were battling this in your head. Is it weird? Is it too late to call him? No—No, it’s not weird. He’s the one who asked you out, after all. 

Fuck it. 

You sighed as you dialed the number on the cup, pressing the phone up to your ear. Within seconds, Joel’s deep voice rang through the other line. 

“Hello?” He sounded a bit tired, voice hoarse from what had to be a long day. 

“Hey Mr. Bakery Man,” you said in hopes of lifting his spirits even in the slightest. 

His deep chuckle that sounded through the receiver had a warmth blooming in your chest. Even his laugh alone made you feel good inside—like a cup of hot cocoa in your hands on a cold night while you’re in your pajamas sitting fireside. 

Did it sound kind of insane? Sure. Did you care? No. 

The feelings you’d felt toward him almost blindsided you, but something in your gut told you that Joel would be a constant in your life from here on out. 

“Hey darlin’. How’s your day been?” He asks. 

“Good, good,” you pause for a moment, “So about that date…” 

“I was thinkin’ some dinner? Friday night at seven?” 

“That’s perfect. I can’t wait.” 

-

Friday night rolled around, and Joel was kicking himself for not exactly having a plan B. For some reason, the reservations he made got mixed up and you couldn’t be seated. 

You assured him that it was okay, and that his presence was enough for you to enjoy yourself. 

You both decided to get some pasta to-go and eat your food at a park nearby. Even though you both were dressed to the nines and didn’t exactly blend in, you couldn’t care less. You were enjoying your time with him and getting to know the amazing man that he is. 

He opened up and talked about how Sarah and Ellie were both his pride and joy, how he had Sarah really young and adopted Ellie later on, how he sometimes helped his brother Tommy in the contracting business, and how he’s loved to bake in the kitchen with his mom ever since he was a young boy. 

“Didn’t really think I’d make a career out of it,” he confesses. 

“Looks like it worked out for you really well though,” you nudge his side gently. You were settled onto a bench with him then, closer to each other than anticipated. Neither of you said a word, though. 

Being by Joel’s side radiated nothing but safety and comfort. It felt natural, like you two were meant to find your way to each other. 

“Guess so. ‘S funny though. I meet new people every day because of the bakery and, forgive me ‘f this is too bold to say, but meeting you has completely thrown me off my game,” he chuckles, and you furrow your brows. 

“What do you mean?” You try not to feign hurt in your tone, but he wraps his arm around your shoulders and brings you into his warm body. You’re engulfed in his scent, and you could stay here forever, you thought to yourself. 

“Don’t mean it as a bad thing, sweetheart. I mean you’ve been on my mind constantly, and truth be told, I didn’t think you’d ever agree to go on this date with me. ‘M not really one to put myself out there and go on dates, but somethin’ about you made me want to get to know ya more,” he explained, and you nodded your head in understanding. 

“I get it. I didn’t know what to expect when I moved out here. I always buried myself in work and didn’t pay much attention to dating someone, but I’d like to say this turn of events has been pleasant.” 

He can’t help but grin foolishly at your words. 

“‘M glad it worked out this way too. Y’know my girls pushed me to ask you out? Not that I didn’t want to in the first place, but ‘m… not very good at this,” he waves his hand to the side.  

You could easily picture Sarah and Ellie giving Joel a hard time, hounding him to ask you out. 

“Your girls know what’s best,” you tease, and he can’t help but let out a hearty laugh. “But you’re doing just fine, Mr. Miller. I promise.” 

“Even if I goofed and our reservation got messed up?” 

“Joel, I wouldn’t care if you took me to Whataburger for a date. It’s the company that matters,” you say, and you could’ve sworn you saw him blush. 

“Where have you been all my life?” His question sounded like it was meant to be directed just to himself, but you leaned in and gave his cheek a kiss. 

“Probably in New York City,” you shrugged. 

“You and your sarcasm,” he said, shoulders shaking from laughing. 

“Hey, you’re the one who asked me out. That’s on you,” and Joel couldn’t help the pride that bloomed within his chest. 

“Sure did. What do ya say? Wanna head back to the bakery for a cup of coffee and croissant?” 

“What, like a nightcap, but sweet?” You grinned, and he nods. 

“Somethin’ like that.” 

“I’d love to.” 

Joel offered you his arm and you wrapped your hand around his bicep, staying close to him as you both walked back to his truck. 

It didn’t take long to get back to the bakery. Joel made you some coffee with creamer and sugar while he drank his black. He made you a croissant too as promised, and you couldn’t help but gush to him about how you loved his baking. You’d tried a few other things off the menu since you started coming into the shop, but the croissants were what stole your heart. 

You and him sat there for what seemed like hours just talking and getting to know each other on a deeper level. You told him about your family, your dreams and aspirations, what made you want to become a journalist, and what drove you to reach your goals. 

He loved that you were so ambitious—he didn’t come across too many people these days that seemed to know exactly what they wanted in life. You impressed him, and as he sat across from you listening to you talk about work, he knew you were the woman for him. 

He would’ve deemed himself crazy not even a few months ago for thinking such a thing, but hell, if you know you know. 

So the months passed by, and you two became inseparable.

Both of you didn’t think you’d meet someone like this, let alone someone you both could see sharing a life with. This man, all kind hearted and selfless and a big teddy bear who treated you like a goddess, was the man that swept you off your feet and made you see that work isn’t everything life had to offer. 

You took that leap of faith to move to Austin, not knowing the outcome it would have. But, you sure as hell were so glad that it happened. That this thing with Joel happened. You were decently happy with your life before you met him and let him in, but now, you felt as if you’d been on cloud nine for months. 

You were helping Joel close up the bakery one Sunday evening when he turned to you and confessed that he loved you, and he couldn’t imagine his life without you. Neither could the girls. You’d changed him for the better, even if it hadn’t even been a year of knowing each other. 

You’d said it right back to him, and with flour still lingering on his hands, he’d grabbed your face and kissed you like you were the air his lungs needed, the blood to keep his heart pumping, and his god-given solace. 

And you thought, this was exactly where you were meant to be—safe in his arms, full of love, with a whole lifetime with him to look forward to. 

He was it for you. You'd won the heart of the charming Southern gentleman—your Mr. Bakery Man. 

dividers by @saradika-graphics

p.s. sorry if this sucked i’m genuinely so rusty w writing rn. thanks for understanding <3

[ninguitar]

　　　꣑ৎ　　　　𝓢O CLOSE, YET SO FAR　♱.　MM.B 　　────　i miss your voice, you're the only one with it 𓈒𓈒𓈒

🦇　( 𝓢 ) ﹕ 　you tell yourself everything's over with manon bannerman, that she no longer has the key to your heart. but like a bird trapped in a cage, prevented from escaping, you find yourself inevitably clinging to the past.

𝓹airing. ex. meret manon bannerman & fem. reader　𝓰enre. angst mentions of toxic/avoidant dynamics heartbreak 1.1k wc.　　🗒️ ! 　first fic since hiatus everybody give me a standing ovation 😅😅✌️ i also wrote this on a whim so this is lowkey just word vomit sorry … 💔 ( MASTERLIST )

now playing ⋆ what used to be mine by faye webster

EVERYTHING HITS MANON LIKE A WAVE DURING A STORM. nothing made sense to her, not when the so-called perfect-picture relationship you two had was ripped out of her hands by none other than herself. you were the girl of her dreams. in fact, you'd be the girl of any sane person's dreams.

the first time she held you, it felt like she had the world at her fingertips, her cold hands gently drawing patterns all over the small of your back. a fleeting touch that lingered longer than it should've. you were the only thing she truly loved, her love for you swirling behind her eyes every time she looked at you.

you'd always claim love was overrated, that you never saw the need for it. that was only until the ghanaian girl skated her way into your heart, and you were absolutely floored by her. it baffled you initially, that a girl like manon who was your polar opposite, left you hopelessly captivated.

and so, you two disregarded the world, pretending everything was perfect, that neither of you were scared to be in a relationship. words weren't your guys' strong suits, considering neither of you could admit that this was real, because real things eventually fall apart. and even worse, considering that words laced with venom came out of the two of you, intended to hurt the other. both of you knew the weight of those words but never relented, too prideful.

nothing separated you two, though, oddly enough. mainly because, after every intense argument with silence weaving in-between, one of you would find their way to the other, pulling the other's trembling body into a hug, and promising to make any troubling thoughts of theirs vanish into thin air. the fear of life without the other completely stirred a feeling of nausea in your guys' body, so you two stayed together, even if it meant bitter resentment soared to higher lengths.

you loved her, and she loved you, right? that's all that mattered. staying together worked for awhile; you thought you couldn't have felt any better, especially since that same moonstruck gaze manon gave you only fueled your hope. you felt like you were high on a daze again, that the thought of everything bubbling up to surface and you two ending things was nearly impossible.

then, silence became what replaced the sounds of the ghanaian girl's heart racing. no calls, no texts, nothing. she was radio silent. it wasn't the kind of silence you found yourself clinging onto, the kind where you interlocked your hands with manon's, and she'd hold onto you firmly like you would fade away somehow if she didn't. no, it was the kind that carried the weight of memories and the whispers of what went wrong. it swallowed up you whole. everything tugs your heartstrings in the cruelest way ever, binding them into an impossible knot.

you almost went crazy on a random tuesday, coming home to a u-haul outside your shared apartment, and boxes laid out with manon's stuff inside, ready to be loaded into the truck. your heart was a mere seconds away from beating out your chest. your hand was hooked with hers, your thumb brushing against her knuckles gently. frantic, you practically begged for her to not leave, to tell you this was a mean trick played by her.

and by then, you knew manon was always an enigma to you. because how could she find love in the ugliest things like jealousy, and the prettiest things like the aurelia borealis, but never you? in her other hand was a one-way flight ticket, and you realized absolutely nothing got better. you just chose to believe everything got better. her hands lay on top of yours, tenderly holding them.

you always assumed it was a simple choice for manon, that she would inevitably slip through your fingers. you just never chose to believe that. then, words were thrown around foolishly. that alone made it easier for the other girl to leave, to say good-bye, because she believed you would get over her faster if you resented her.

"there was no 'us,' you knew that," manon bit the bullet, annoyance laced in her breath. "none of this was real; neither of us could admit it ever was anyway." her voice was raw, anger slightly sewn into her tone. your body was plagued with guilt and hurt, and a breath leaves your parted lips.

half of you wants to pull her back, to tell her how you really felt, and that you could never bring yourself to hate her. and the other half of you wants to make it even, to hurt her the way she hurt you. you wish her name itself didn't haunt you, and that you could stop missing her like a little kid.

what made it worse was revisiting that wound in your heart. your college graduation day came, and the same pay phone number kept calling you every second of the day. with your phone clutched in your hand, you answered the call. you knew very well that it was manon, considering she'd left fairly recently—a few months back.

"manon, is that you?" you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper, as it resonates with apprehension. your eyebrows were etched together, "i'm pretty it's you, and i'm also pretty sure you've been calling to say something, but you won't say anything."

silence follows.

you scoffed, "if you won't talk, then i will." again, silence.

"you didn't handle things right at all, you could've given me some closure, or been upfront with me, and told me you were leaving. but you didn't, and you ended up not coming to my graduation, and cutting me off entirely. and that's fine—i get it, but that's it for me, i've moved on from you.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, "i think i may have loved you, but i just need to let it go. that's it, and i hope you're doing good—i want you to be good, so goodbye, manon." her name falling from your lips in such a distant tone felt almost foreign. you finally exhaled, shake and uneven, as you shook your head, hastily ending the call.

you wish you could get a view into manon's head. you wait, and wait, hoping that she would call again and tell you how much she misses you. you knew it was useless, hopeless, but you still nonetheless hang in there, drowning in your racing thoughts.

you could only imagine how she'd react. she'd probably tease you playfully, calling you corny and whipped. then, she'd whisper sweet-nothings against your shoulder, her arms slipping around your waist instinctively. that was always how she reacted whenever she thought you were being a sap. and you recall, that there was actually a time where her arms were your home, and that the heartbeat of hers against your head was your favorite sound.

you huff at the memories, knowing how easy it was for manon to swiftly lie about love, about everything, really. and you believed they were the truth, and that they couldn't be farther from it.

and i listen to you when i feel like crying,

it reminds me of what used to be mine.

current 𝓽aglist : ( open. ♱ 2 be added, read this post. )

@kisshae @sed7ction @yeetaberry127 @vrtualstar @jellaaa @jaythegirlkisser @falling-intoo-deep @c-yerim @bulgik @gtfoiydlyj @rinapomu @meganskiendielsbtc

[emmylksblog]

TRAINING MORNING // HÉCTOR FORT

summary: a morning where you accompany héctor by waking up early to join him on his way to training. who would say bickering would make you be late?

genre: fluff, playful-banter

warnings: héctor's eyes are lethal on that selfie lord save us

a/n: after a long hiatus caused by uni stress i finally mastered enough motivation to write for my husband, can’t promise being consistent tho. also i’m proud of my babies they made it so far into the champions hope they bring the trophy home 🙂‍↔️

You were already dating Héctor Fort, and being close friends with both Cubarsí and Lamine too, they had casually invited you to come watch them train that day. It wasn’t an official visit, just a chill hangout between friends they’d say.

Héctor, of course, was absolutely over the moon. He tried to play it cool, but you knew him far too well not to notice how excited he really was.

That morning, though, had required a Herculean effort on your part. You’d have to wake up unusually early, basically around the same time Héctor got up for training. And considering you weren't a morning person, it had taken your boyfriend’s enthusiastic assistance to even get your eyes open.

He was more than happy to oblige, of course.

“Bebé…” he murmured against your cheek, peppering your face with soft kisses. “Wake up, princesa. Come on, we have to go.”

You only grumbled in response, half-asleep mumbles escaping your lips.

“No more kisses? That’s how you’re gonna do me this morning?”

When the kisses didn’t work, he resorted to his secret weapon: tickling. Your squeals broke through the still air as you both playfully wrestled in bed, almost starting a mock boxing match under the covers.

Eventually, after managing to pry you away from the warmth of the blankets, you headed downstairs for breakfast. Your jaw nearly dropped when you saw everything already prepared: pancakes and fresh orange juice for you, just the way he knew you liked it—and a cup of his precious ColaCao for him.

You looked at him like he had just hung the stars in the sky, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Ay, mi niño, how much I adore you. Does me coming to your training really make you this happy? Maybe I should do it more often.”

He blushed immediately, giving you a playful smack on the butt and gently pushing you toward the kitchen island. It was his way of brushing it off, he was getting shy, and that only made your heart melt more because it didn’t happen often, at least not as much as you wanted to.

“I love you,” you said with a smile.

He didn’t answer right away. He had just taken a massive bite of pancake, chewing happily when you turned to look at him, waiting for a reply. you nudged his shoulder, laughing as he started coughing.

“Oh my god, babe, it was just two words! Or do I still make you nervous, huh?”

You handed him a glass of water and patted his back while he tried to recover.

Finally, after a long gulp and a laugh that still sounded like a cough, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulled you close, and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Stop acting all tough. You’re the one who wouldn’t stop asking for cuddles yesterday,” he teased.

You pinched his side in retaliation, making him flinch and rub the spot dramatically.

“Well now it’s not even worth being sweet anymore,” you huffed, pretending to be offended and turning away slightly.

Héctor, clearly done with your daily back-and-forths, decided to end the teasing in a way you didn’t see coming. His hands slid around your waist, and you felt him press his body against your back. Curious, you let him.

Then, without warning, he pulled you toward him in one swift move and settled you on his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Caught completely off guard, you looked up into his brown eyes—the same ones that had driven you crazy since day one. Now they gleamed with mischief, but there was something else too. Something softer. Something that looked a lot like adoration.

He gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Finally got you to sit still,” he whispered, your faces only inches apart.

His voice, the intimacy of it, the warmth of his breath against your skin, it made goosebumps rise all over you. Your cheeks flushed instantly, and of course, that smug half-smile spread across his face, the one he always wore when he knew he’d won.

He resumed eating as if nothing had happened, while you still sat on his lap, stunned into silence. One, two, three bites…and then you cut in. Turning around, you pressed a kiss to his lips, then guided the hand holding his fork toward your mouth.

Héctor watched you with that “I-can’t-believe-you-did-that-but-I-love-you-even-more-for-it” look on his face.

“So that’s how you wanna play, huh, diablilla?” he said, giving your waist an affectionate squeeze.

You just shrugged, savoring the stolen bite. His food always tasted better, you still didn’t get why.

“So now you’re not talking to me?” Héctor teased again, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You ignored him, busy with your own breakfast now.

But he wasn’t giving up that easily. He started pressing soft kisses to your bare shoulder as you were wearing a tank top, and ran his hands slowly up and down your arms in soothing motions.

You weren't about to push him away. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love this.

Then it hit him.

“Oh… cielo. Cariño. Mi vida. You do know I love you, right?”

Your boyfriend, occasionally slow on the uptake, a total contrast to how fast he was on the pitch, had just realized he hadn’t said I love you back earlier.

“Yeah, yeah, I know… but it doesn’t hurt to hear it, you know? Next time you leave me on ‘I love you’ read, I’ll ignore you for a whole day and we’ll see if you keep up the tough guy act.”

You grabbed his jaw and gently moved his face side to side in mock scolding.

“You’re mean when you want to be,” Héctor said, his voice low. “But I love that about you. And you know I can’t resist you.”

He didn’t waste a second before capturing your lips in a series of kisses, whispering te quiero between each one.

“God, I’m so in love with you, Héctor,” you murmured, hands resting on his chest.

You pressed one last kiss to his lips before turning and leaning into him, resting your head there. He adjusted his hold, wrapped his arms around you protectively, and placed a kiss on your cheek.

He knew you were definitely going to be late to training now, but he didn’t care. Not yet. He just wanted a few more minutes with the girl he adored.

You were worth every second.

this was supposed to be longer but it's 5:17 am and i can barely see what i'm writing so if yall want a continuation leave a heart or comment, hope you liked it!

[harksness]

Heaven

A/N: RAAAAH i'm so painfully horny for this woman isjbfaisubg this request was EXACTLY something i wanted to write after coming back from my long ass hiatus, but it was already getting so long i only fulfilled most of the request i'm sorry :( i want to get more practice writing again before ms. mommy agatha's show comes out so i'm planning on coming back and doing the throat fucking part of it after i complete a few of my other requests... just in its own lil mini fic i hope thats ok but yeah! i'm a lil rusty bcs it's been so long, i rly hope everyone likes it <3

the request

Warnings: Mommy kink, dom! Agatha, sub! Reader. Lil bit of a breeding kink, magical strap, magic being used for sex, praise, pure smut

WC: 3.4k

Agatha has two fingers deep in your mouth. Pressing lightly on your tongue, dragging in and out as she fucks into you, your eyes fluttering shut with each slide back in along your tongue. Your cheeks cave to try and suck her long, slender digits back into your mouth, desperate to keep her inside of you in any way you possibly can.

“Mmm.. Such a good girl for Mommy… You love it when I fuck your mouth, hm?”

Her voice is gravely, a depraved grin of desire wide on her features. You whimper out a pathetic sound around her fingers, feeling a bit of drool slip past your lips and trail down your chin.

Your chest is heaving. She’s already played with you, used you thoroughly, and you still want more from her. You don’t understand the effect she has on you, how she does it, but no matter how much she satisfies you, you’re always desperate for more of her. More of her attention, more of her love, more of her mouth and fingers..

Looking up at her through your lashes, her wild hair hangs in her features, making her look crazy. She bites into her bottom lip, still grinning. You let out the most desperate moan around her fingers as she presses herself down and starts grinding her bare, wet cunt against your naked thigh.

“Fuck.. I love it when you get messy for me.”

She breathes the words out hotly.. You can feel how soaked she is against your skin and it only turns you on more as you begin to slightly rock your hips up into her.

“Can you be a good girl and take another finger?”

Agatha asks so sweetly, pretty blue eyes full of love and affection as she fixes them onto your mouth. You don’t even have to process what she asked to obey- doing whatever Agatha wants of you is programmed into every fiber of your being. You’d move the moon if she asked.

You open your mouth to form a wide O. Immediately she takes advantage of the opportunity you’ve given her, dragging out her previous two fingers to run along your bottom lip tenderly for a moment before sliding three of them back into your mouth, back along your lip until they’re knuckle deep. You immediately begin to suck on her long fingers.

She grinds harder against your thigh, and you let out a loud moan that’s muffled by her three fingers slowly fucking into your mouth. Agatha ghosts her lips against your ear, breathing out her next words hotly.

“I want to know what it’s like to feel your sweet mouth wrapped around me..”

She’s breathless. Her movements against your thigh quickens as she lets out a short gasp of pleasure. You feel yourself getting more wet as you realize what she means.

“Wanna feel..”

Her breath hitches. You let out a pathetic noise as the rolling of her hips against your skin becomes more frantic.

“God.. Wanna know what it’s like to feel your messy cunt.. Wanna know what it’s like to fill you up, and watch my love drip out of you.. Make you all mine.. Just mine..”

You let out a needy groan around her fingers, nodding desperately as you try to convey just how badly you want it too.

Agatha stops her movements. Dread drops into your gut. She was close. You wanted to feel her cum on your thigh so badly… But she leaves you little time to mourn as her fingers slip out of your mouth. 

The older woman wraps her fingers around your jaw, steadying your lolling head to look right up at her. She smears your spit onto your cheek. You need to blink a few times to focus your vision, but there she is, icy blue gaze hot on your features, mouth quirked downward in a serious manner. Her hair is so knotted and messy, hanging right over her breasts and covering the sides of her face as she addresses you.

“What if I had a real, feeling cock, baby? Would you let me use it on you however I want?”

Agatha purrs, a smirk etching onto her features as she runs a hand up your chest. You frantically nod, racing to answer any of her questions as quickly as possible.

“Oh my god, yes..”

You moan and she’s grinning as she moves off of your leg, positioning herself between them instead. Her hands hook behind your knees, pulling you so that you’re laying flat on your back. You let out a gentle yelp of surprise before she leans down towards you, her breath fanning over your lips.

“Would you let me fuck your pretty mouth until you couldn’t speak?”

She softly traces her pointer finger along your wet lips to accent her hypothetical question. Well.. Hopefully it won't stay hypothetical.

Her voice is low. Immediately you nod your head. She’s got a mischievous, sensual look to her features now as her blue eyes hang half lidded with lust.

“Would you… Let me use your sweet pussy however I want?”

Agatha’s lips grow into a coy smirk, softly brushing her nose against yours as her voice lowers even more with each question.

“Oh absolutely…”

You breathe out, desperately trying not to rub your thighs together. Her hair tickles your chest just slightly, one of her hands still firmly gripping into the soft skin around your knee as the other holds her balance as it rests on the bed.

“Would you let me cum deep in you… Fill you up so much that your cute little hole starts dripping, hm? Let me fuck it back into you and fill you up again, and again?”

A pathetic whimper escapes your throat as you throw your head back..

“Oh, Mommy, please… I wanna feel you.. Want you to fill up my pussy, please- Oooh!”

You gasp, snapping your head forward. Excitement bubbles in your chest, heat rising through your abdomen as you see what’s between her legs. And yours.

Warm, purple magic dulls from her hand as she finishes conjuring up what she needs. You bite your lip as you notice the thick, long, purple cock planted between her legs. It’s strange not seeing it attached to a harness. Instead it’s connected between her legs, you assume to her most sensitive spots…

The tip is between your wet folds, pushing them apart as she begins to experimentally drag herself through you.

“Oooh.. Baby, you feel absolutely divine…"

She lets out a deep moan, eyes locked between your legs. Agatha leans back so that she’s resting on her knees between your parted thighs. You let out little gasps of pleasure as she experiments with you, controlling the tip of her cock as she drags it through your wet folds, up and down, before she begins toying with you a little more..

Her wild hair hides most of her face from view, dangling as a curtain in front of her beautiful features. But once in a while you catch a glimpse of her knotted brows and her teeth pinching her bottom lip, entranced and entirely focused as she toys with you. 

Agatha slowly drags the tip further up.. Catching your clit. You let out a deranged moan as she rubs firm, slow circles against your sensitive nub, fisting the sheets as your chest rises and falls rapidly.

Agatha wraps a hand around your hip, guiding the tip of her cock back down as she readjusts your legs. You hold them apart for her, desperate for whatever she’s willing to give as she spreads you wide. You hold your breath in anticipation as she presses in gently.. It softly slides into you with ease. You let out a sigh of relief at the little bit of delicious stretch you’re granted as her tip parts your sopping folds. But she does no more than the tip.

The older woman throws her head back, letting out a long moan as you feel her fingers bite into your hip.

“Haaa… Oh baby.. So, so good..”

She babbles, her low, frantically horny voice makes you desperate to touch yourself. Even though it feels as if every inch of your body is on fire, so desperate for her to move, to fuck you, to touch you more, to get anything more from her, you stay still. Determined to be obedient and please Agatha, you focus on your breathing and twisting your fingers in the sheets.

You let out a pained groan, so desperate for more as she drags her cock back up to your clit, nails biting into your hip deliciously. She repeats the action several more times, gaze locked on where the two of you are joined. From your clit, to teasing your entrance, and back again. Repeat, over and over. It’s driving you mad.. The low, breathy moans she lets pass through her lips rather consistently aren't helping, either. You’re unable to stop your squirming and desperate noises, they're just growing and getting worse with your building arousal. Eventually you can’t help but start outwardly pleading for more.

“Please.. I want you.. I’ve been such a good girl for you, Mommy, please..”

You babble, and she looks up at you. You know she loves seeing your wrecked face. She sticks out her bottom lip, feigning pity as she coos at your pathetic sniffles. Agatha leans over you, taking your jaw in her hands, peppering kisses all over your features.

“You’re right, baby.. I’m so sorry. You’re just so perfect for me, I want to make this last forever. I want to etch the way your perfect cunt feels into my memory..”

Her words are dripping with sweetness as she kisses the corners of your lips.

“Feels so good.. Please, Mommy, more?”

It comes out as a question when you don’t really mean it to. Your mind is just so hazy from all the teasing, you can barely keep yourself together. Agatha smiles at you, overflowing with joy at your wrecked state as she starts to trail soft kisses across your jaw and down your neck.

“Anything for my good girl.”

She purrs against your skin, and then heaven.

Slowly, oh so slowly, she pushes in. Adjusting your legs, and planting one hand firmly back onto your hip as she does so. There’s no resistance, only warm, perfect euphoria as inch by delicious inch she slides into you and the stretch feels so good. You babble to her, telling her how good it feels as you let out a long moan, every part of her magical cock against the walls of your cunt making you feel electric with pleasure.

Agatha’s jaw is stiff, lips hung open. Her eyes are clenched shut, shoulders heaving with her heavy breaths as she feels you take her. She lets out a long moan.

“Oh, angel.. You feel like heaven..”

She hums as she pushes the last bit into you. Lidded blue eyes meet with yours as her hips press flush against your own. You whimper and moan, squirming beneath her as you try to ground yourself somehow, finding it impossible to do.

“Mommy..”

You gargle out pathetically, and she shushes you.

“Oh baby, I know, I know.. You’re being so good for me, my lovely girl..”

Agatha coos at you, eyebrows creased with affection as she pulls her long hair over one shoulder. She knows how much you love it when her hair is down- easily being able to pull on it, or run your fingers through her smooth brown locks is one of your favorite things to do while she fucks you. It’s so hard for you not to lean up and start toying with it as you wait for her to move.

She plants one hand on the mattress by your head, leaning over you, and you could start drooling from how good she looks. She adjusts your legs and you allow her to move you however she pleases, spreading them open once again as she comfortingly rubs at your thigh. 

Her hair drapes over her shoulder, tickling the side of your chest just a bit. Her perfect breasts hang in your face, and you have to grab the blankets harder to resist the urge to take them in your hands to lovingly worship. The long expanse of soft, pale skin along her chest and stomach are so tempting for you to run your hands along- you want to trace your fingers over every scar, every freckle and mole. Her pretty face is set on you. God, your heart stutters in your chest as you look at her- thick eyebrows set in concentration, beautiful blue eyes eating up the way you look underneath her, and her perfect pink lips set in a slight smile.

She quirks a teasing eyebrow down at you.

“You can touch, sweet thing.”

Agatha sounds oh so amused when she says those words.

You whisper out quick, appreciative thanks as you raise your hands and immediately start smoothing them over her breasts. You paw at them gently, running your thumbs over the plush skin, moving your hands to run your thumb over her soft pink nipples. 

“Look up at me… Focus those pretty eyes on me…”

Her words are controlled and breathy as she tries to keep her composure.

You listen right away. You’re sure you look like a ruined, sloppy mess all for her. 

And you know she absolutely loves it.

She begins rocking her hips, not pulling out. Just rocking, and grinding into you as you toy with her chest. Agatha's enjoying the feeling of you wrapped around her, loving the warm, wet friction. She hums softly whenever you run your fingers along her nipples the way she likes… She tilts her head back and moans loudly, her lips dropped open and eyes rolling shut. She looks so beautiful, absolutely unreal.

“Such a good cunt, baby..”

Agatha groans, continuing to rock into you. You moan pathetically, feeling her slip out just a little bit now. She starts to thrust into you, short and shallow as if she can't stand not being buried in your pussy. You clench around her, whimpering a bit, and immediately you flush in embarrassment when you hear the wet noises sounding from where the two of you are joined. 

You drop your hands, enjoying watching her breasts move with each of her desperate thrusts. Her grip on you is a vice, nails digging into the plush of your ass and your hip from where her hand is wrapped around you as she urges your legs up.

You fold them around her nimble hips, locking your ankles together high up on her back. She drops down onto her forearm, letting you wrap your arms around her back, whining appreciatively as you run your hands over her soft, damp skin.

“Sweetheart, you feel so good..”

Agatha mumbles, her voice hazed over with pleasure as she ruts into you, moving just a bit faster. Your moans are broken, hoarse and wild, barely able to push them past your lips at this point. You let out a pathetic whine once again, somehow unable to shut yourself up regardless of how broken your voice is.

“Mommy.. Want you to cum in me.. Please..”

You pathetically beg into her shoulder, peppering sloppy kisses on whatever bit of soft skin you can reach. You mindlessly run your hands over her smooth back for a moment, mind hazy and lost in the euphoria her desperate thrusts are delivering to your mind. But then she buries her face into your neck, propping your hips up as high as they can before she snakes her arms under your back, wrapping them around you as she begins to fuck you with desperate, shallow thrusts. You let out a surprised moan as your nails dig into her back.

You’re so hot, but her warm body pressed flush against yours like this feels so good. Being able to feel her arms pressing into you, her soft skin and smooth curves pressed up against yours.. You're able to feel nothing but Agatha, she's filling all of your senses and you wish you could live like this forever. She bumps into your clit with each thrust, your eyes blurring with pleasure each time as you start to feel your orgasm build. 

“I’m gonna fill you up baby…”

She breathes the words against your ear and you’re moaning louder, feeling yourself clenching around her cock.

“Fuck-”

The word is a continuous, broken moan. You’ve never seen Agatha like this before. So desperate, broken from pleasure. You hum out a moan, holding her tighter, clenching around her as you grow excited for her to lose herself in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Please.. Mommy.. Want you to cum deep in me.. Want you to fill me up until it spills outta me.. Please..”

You babble, her grip tightening around you. She’s desperately grinding her hips against yours, pressing hard and deep, rolling her hips around and around and the friction on your clit is making your mind grow fuzzy. She’s moaning into your shoulder, curses strung between sweet praises and pet names as she snakes a hand from around your back, cupping your cheek and turning your head towards her.

Agatha crashes her lips onto yours, biting her way into your mouth as her tongue melds with yours. You let out a high pitched moan as your legs tense around her hips, your nails digging into her back as yours arches off the bed- your eyes pinched shut with pleasure, your body seizing up as you clench around her cock.

Agatha moans loudly, her thrusts stuttering and sloppy as she feels you cum around her. Her face contorts in that of pure pleasure in a way you've never seen before, head thrown back and mouth clenched as it hangs open in a silent moan, eyes pinched shut tightly. 

Her hips stutter into yours a few more times before she tightens her arms around you like a snake constricting around its prey- hips pressed so hard into yours you're sure you'll bruise. But you don’t care, you're excited to see the bruises in the morning. 

Your eyes lock onto her features as she lets out such a raw moan- unlike anything you've ever heard from the woman before as she shoots thick ropes of cum as deep into you as she possibly can, face buried into your shoulder as she continues to constrict around you.

You hold her back tightly. Arms wrapped around her, feeling the softness of her skin as you keep your legs locked around her back.

She’s breathless, panting as she presses soft kisses all over your upper chest and your shoulders as you both come down from your highs. You smile softly at how she's always looking after you, even when having her moment. Your chest is heaving as she leans back, her hair even messier than before as you reach up to begin petting it into place with your fingers.

“God, you're absolutely perfect… Such a good girl for me..”

Agatha grins down at you, leaving a soft kiss on your lips. You smile into the kiss, caressing the side of her cheek when she leans back.

“I’ll always be a good girl for you, Mommy…”

You purr up at her, aware that all of her wishes for the night haven't been fulfilled yet. She returns your inviting words with a smirk, her eyes pouring with affection. 

“Oh yeah?”

Agatha leans backwards, slowly pulling out of you. You gasp and wince slightly at the feeling of her cum dripping out of you, and the mess it's leaving on your skin and the sheets.

Your lover seems entranced, humming in excitement as she eyes the mess between your legs. Her hand glows purple with magic again as she hovers it over her cock, before it disappears and she starts running the tip through your messy folds.

You whimper at how sensitive you are, but still, excitement builds in you. 

“Are you gonna follow through on your promise from earlier, baby?”

She teases you, voice laced with mockery and that sly smirk of hers quirking at her lips as she presses the tip to your entrance once again. You gasp.

“I promised to always be a good girl for you, didn't I?”

[motheroffeline]

Infatuation (pt. 2)

Happy late Valentine's Day guys! I would have posted this yesterday, but I was kinda busy sooo yeah here it is lol.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI!!!, extremely dark, oral (m receiving), sex, photographer!OC!character!Ari x Dom!Aaron Pierre, nicknames (daddy, baby, etc.), explicit name calling (dumbass, bitch, slut,etc...), bondage with zip ties, squirting, fingering (f receiving), humiliation, dubious consent, omniscient third person, and mentions of blackmail. Taglist: @kaylalb @alexinmotion @ovohanna24 @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @honeys-archives @fairygoround Summary: Ari leaves the right-wing room of the venue with a sullen faced Aaron Pierre which gives reason for suspicion. But, after knowing what Ari has on him, he declares that he will take a "momentary" break from the limelight and cameras to reconnect with nature. In reality, Ari plans to condition him into being her personal object. But will she always be in control?

(The story will pick up at Ari's house to clear up any confusion.)

______________________________________________________________

"Mmmmmmm, I'm sucking this dick good ain't I daddy?" Ari had immediately demanded that Aaron strip naked when they went into her house. It wasn't like Aaron was a weak man, he was over twice the size of Ari and could have cracked her head but why didn't he? Pure shock. The idea of someone close to him betraying him in such a manner left him completely stock still regarding how to handle the situation.

Aaron lets out a guttural moan as Ari deepthroats him, licking and sucking his dick like it was all she could do in life. They were out in the woods nobody knew where he was, and the press would lay off for a while because he announced his hiatus. "What was this bitch up to?" He thought to himself as he stared down into her dark brown eyes as she completely devoured him. Her braids had come unraveled because of how aggressively she was bobbing her head up and down.

"Didn't know you'd be a silent lover, Mr. Pierre. You could at least say something." Cocky, Ari was very cocky about the way she thought he was wrapped around her finger. Those beautiful everchanging eyes would close in arousal and then open with horror at the sight of Ari on her knees.

He was deep in thought and the cusp of cumming all over Ari's face, but he continued to think and think when suddenly it came to him: he would pretend to engage in her sick game. Ari wasn't a normal young woman by any means, going behind anybody's back and stealing information was a fucked up thing to do. In short words, the bitch was crazy and not in a wannabe way either.

"Ari, fuck, keep doing that thing with your tongue, please? I'll be a good boy... ah, I'm gonna cum on your face." He said with genuine arousal as Ari smirked around his length. Some dark part of him wanted to fuck her throat like a fleshlight and tie her down, really give her what she wants. In a blur, he had reluctantly pushed Ari away from him. She was on her back lying on the floor like there was nothing in the world to worry about, staring at him saying "try me" with her eyes.

Everybody that knew Aaron knew that it was very hard to make him angry and even harder to get him to physically engage with anybody, but this was a different situation he had found himself in. This woman had interrupted the flow of his career and his life because she wanted to fuck around and fuck around, he would do with her.

Recognition flashed in Ari's eyes as she stared at the 6'3" man who was no longer entertaining her antics. There was a stark contrast in his eyes, a look of pure determination and sadism brewing just underneath it all. She started to back away from him, but he just walked closer and closer backing her up against the wall.

"Enough is a fucking enough, Ari. I'm tired of this blackmail shit and the childish shit, all of it! You're making me go crazy with how fucked up it all is. Threatening my damn family and then me are you right out of your fucking mind? Like I wouldn't fight back or some shit some time or another well the novelty is gone now, dumbass. I cannot live the rest of my life knowing that you may be doing this to other people. I gotta deal with this shit, now!"

Ari was truly frightened at the deepness of his voice and the conviction in his words as he set his eyes on her. She hurriedly got up from the floor and tried to run somewhere, anywhere but he caught her by the wrist with a bruising grip. She kicked and screamed but he dragged her all the same with a passive look in his eye.

Aaron dragged her into her bedroom unknowingly and pushed her on the bed. Coldness seeped in through the windows making the bed railing cold against her back as he forced her against it. After a long time of silence, Aaron finally said, "I'm gonna tie yo ass up." Sweat dripped unto Ari's nose and she could determine what would happen if she were to be bound by the pure glee in his eyes.

He paced out of the bedroom ignoring Ari chastising and cursing him because what she said didn't even matter now... no, not really. After some time of looking through Ari's cluttered pantry and in her kitchen drawer he finally found a pack of zip ties. Ari was crumpled up on the bed like he left her and it sent a surge of arousal right to his dick at the tears running down her face.

"Nahhh don't cry now, bitch! You wasn't doing that shit when you made me eat you out at the party, you wasn't doing that shit when you was sucking my dick today. You really scared? I personally don't give a fuck. Now, if you get up and decide that you wanna run I'll slap the shit out of you and I don't even hit women but I'll make an exception for you, Ari... Goddamn monster..."

Ari shivered as Aaron secured her arms and legs with the zip ties, his eyes gleaming with something she thought only belonged to her. Deep blue and hazel eyes stared at her through thick lashes observing her every struggle through the zip ties. Her eyes darted across her room hoping that something or someone would save her, but the situation was hopeless.

Aaron practically shrugged off his clothes as he got on top of the bed with Ari and she drooled at the sight of his dick hanging between his legs, balls swinging like a pendulum. She was conflicted on how to feel: turned on by how he was taking action or scared of what those actions would be. He ripped the panties off of her and the fabric breaking against her skin caused Ari let out a mortifying scream. Upon her scream, Aaron smiled and pushed two fingers inside of her core which caused her to moan.

He stroked her g spot, his fingers rubbing against the shallow part that she could never find with her own fingers. Drool ran onto her pillowcase as he dug her out with his fingers trying to draw an orgasm out of her. The way Aaron was looking at her made her clit jump with arousal and she felt herself humping against his fingers.

"M'so good, gonna cum on your fingers.. ahh, right there, right there up some more, please? You feel so good.." Ari felt embarrassed as the muddled moans left her mouth but she couldn't stop them from coming out because of how perfect everything felt even knowing that she was tied up turned her on.

"You soaking up my fingers real good... hear that shit? I know you about to cum go ahead and do that for me baby so I can fuck you." His voice pushed her over the edge and she squirted all over his fingers and the pressure pushed the two intrusions out. Aaron began to rapidly slap her clit with restrained force causing her to form a little puddle beneath where she lay.

He slapped his dick on her mound before rubbing the head in her arousal and pushed in so slowly that Ari could feel every single inch. It was like something she had never felt before and she found herself squirming as he pushed more of himself in. His dick was really splitting her open and she knew in that moment that her ass was his now in a whole lot of ways.

"The fuck you running from, Ari? You want this dick that's why you did all that dumbassery with the photos and the personal information because why else would you go do it? I bet your mama them ashamed they raised a slut like you. But, you love it don't you, Ari? This feeling of being completely. taken. over." He gently thrusted inside her three times, and it already felt like she was being pushed over the edge for a second time. He was digging her shit out like he hadn't fucking anyone in a while, turning her out like it was his job to do it.

After every thrust, his balls would smack against her clit making her yelp but she couldn't even touch him with the way her hands were bound. He flipped Ari over on her stomach and drove his dick back in with a passion hitting every single spot inside of her that had her vision blurry with tears. The bed was creaking as he fucked into her, his brows furrowed with pure, unadulterated lust as he felt Ari's walls flutter around him.

"Ohhh shit! You better cum on this dick, bitch. Mmmm, give me that shit. You thought it was cool didn't you? Blackmail me and then fuck me the rest of your life, right? Well, as you can see the shit didn't work and it never would have. Didn't nobody tell you not to go chasing after every dream? Now look at you, dream turned into a nightmare didn't it?" Ari came around his dick as he kept fucking into her at a punishing pace because he had not yet cum.

As Ari felt his throbbing dick against her walls and the veins rubbing against her insides a growing irony began to form inside of her head: the secluded nature of her house wasn't really helping her right now and the fact that she got the zip ties prior because she thought that she would be tying him up. It was like her life was being written to go exactly the way she didn't want it to go.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum in this pussy. Hope you on birth control, Ari." He grumbled as he thrusted into her for a last time, completely filled her to the brim with his seed as she whined from the full feeling.

Aaron pushed Ari back on her back and stared at her for like 10 minutes. The birds were chirping happily outside because it was morning now and the warmth from the windows did nothing to thaw the coolness inside of the house. His eyes were a forest green now with a hint of hazel but the lust never left his gaze and now it was targeted.

"Ari, I'll play the sick game with you since it seems like you got everything set up for us to play it. I know you still got them photos on your laptop and stuff but it's ight. Everytime I see you going out of your way to try to defame me and fuck with my family I'll do something even worse than this. Just play with me and see what happens, Ari."

To be truthful, Ari found herself wanting to test his boundaries all over again.

[svt-kiki]

( 🖇️ ) RELATIONSHIPS WITH HYUNG LINE ⌅ .

기키 + 승철　／　KICHEOL

🍒 ── 99% ... old married couple *for real*

everyone can see they love each other

he can be the sea and she’ll be the ship that floating on it

every time he needs to play the 'scary eldest' role, she always felt sorry bc she knew she can’t do it ( she’s too pacifist for that )

kiki is his no.1 listner for whatever his thoughts are

they basically tie the knot already *blinks*

his parents basically adopts her lol

the reason why they have such a strong bond is not only they share the most trainee days with another

but they keep fighting to protect the group and members before and after the debut

seungcheol: *being sulky*

kiki: *judging side eye*

honestly she wasn’t totally sweetheart for him from the beginning ( not in the public eye i mean )

more like teased and pretended like judging him

but after he got into hiatus in 2019 ( it was HER darkest time too ) she just went like “f*ck that, i won’t stop expressing my love for him anymore”

well it’s always appearant that he goes down on her knees like-

not only within the group but recognized as one of the strongest ships among the kpop industry

the ‘knights line’ 1/3 - such a protective of her all the time

기키 + 정한　／　KIHANI

🐰 ── 80% ... devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

kiki in the most of gose : IM WATCHING U YOON JEONGHAN *in mute*

she pretends like she was offended by his cheating in the contents

but she’s the one who always cheers him and giving compliments

“u got this jeonghanna!” “u did so well~ i’m proud of u :)”

she always trust him through the trainee era, support him for both dancing and mentally

she knew he’s kinda type to get nervous often

so she always has his back, says something nice, holds his hands

and is she his soft spot? OBVIOUSLY

he always treats her meals and little gifts like sweets, cosmetics and accessories

she really takes care of his long hair bc if she doesn’t who does

late night walks, hanging out at the park

mostly she’s kinda ‘good girl’ type but when with him, her ‘devil mode’ would be activate ( and seungcheol would cry at the end )

jeonghan: *speaks japanese*

kiki: *proud mom*

personal space [ 404-not-found ]

well he kisses to her cheecks ... and forehead ... and top of the head ... and back of the hand ... ( and list continues )

when he turns low buttery mode, he goes towards her and either leans on her shoulder or rests his head on her lap ( mostly be witnessed in the concerts )

sometimes they are the completely opposite, but the other time share the same energy

기키 + 조슈아　／　KISHUA

🦌 ── 85% ... the mf soulmates

like i said, SOULMATES. that’s it, that’s the tweet

they’re like puzzle pieces ⸺ get along well bc it’s different

he brings out her active energy

she learned the guitar from him

and handles his silent chaotic energy pretty well lol

they always make plans and daydream abt trips they want to go

sometimes josh stans confirm he’s alive through her social media

joshua: *planning something crazy*

kiki, whispering: DON’T ( he’ll do it anyway 🤷🏻 )

cafe dates, drive dates, movie nights

his mom lowkey hopes for kiki to be a daughter-in-law which is never gonna happen lmao

he came up with ‘kit kat’ as her nickname

and yes, the treatment is sweet as the treat ;)

he normally acts like a twin but never forgets the gentle behavior as the gentleman should

especially in the beginning, she prefers not to be treated exceptional cuz she’s the only female member, but his manner and considerate changed it slowly ( and surely in a good way )

he’s kind of the friend who doesn’t say the words such as “oh r u okay” “i’m worried about u” out loud often but always there for her and take her to the night driving when she got stuck

기키 + 준　／　KIJUN

🐱 ── 70% ... the cat and the lion ( aka the owner )

they have the most pure kind of love

he has always been her protector in the airports and clouds

THE VISUAL

she really looking forward to go to shenzhen one day and visit all the places he wants to take them

she’s always so proud abt his acting career and calls him the movie star, now she’s too

and her secret dream is to costar with him one day

he never forgets to escorts her in the award shows and concerts, helping her in stairs, no hesitation to do arm in arm, lends her jacket if he worries she’s revealing too much of her bare skin for gowns ( in his eyes )

many skinships !!

they always share a bite to the other, both LOVE to have tasty foods and willing to let the one try

his little brother always wanna talk to her when he was a kid ( lowkey childhood crush ) then now he’s totally shy about that past and tries to avoide her when jun did the facetime and let the lil bro talk to her just to tease him

he won’t say anything until she went too far and overwork through days, but once he felt okay that’s enough he’ll just kidnapp her to the bedroom and tuck her in bed and like SLEEP

the ‘knights line’ 2/3 - he behaves like a cat playing with dearest owner and sending a nonverbal message to people around them like “ don’t look at her like that she’s OURS ”

기키 + 순영　／　KISOON

🐯 ── 70% ... conqurer of the stage

everybody clear the way, the MAIN DANCERS are coming thru

but they really are THE all rounder, multi talented, just good at everything

they created their own handshake

she’s a secret no.1 supporter of horanghae

but she also LOVES his hamster pelsona, enjoys silently when it popped out randomly

in fact he is the reason that she determinded to be an idol for sure ⸺ she entered to pledis without firm belief about her future profession, but after his entry she was so impressed by his skills despite the gap of dance training experience. moreover, he was so sure about his future, to becoming the idol as his dream, and she just woke up as if she’d been slapped on the cheek like “what the hell i was thinking, of course i’ll be the idol too”

and he always admires her as a dancer and the respective person. he dreamed of not just being an idol, but standing on stage next to her since they met

surprisingly they quarrel most among the ship of kiki and members, but all of them are professional argument as they are in charge of choreographing and stage creation

and they always made up at the end of a day by eating ice pop side by side

he’s the one who encouraged her to do it when the other idol group reached out to her for their choreography production cos he believes in her talent more than anyone just as she does

both have hUGE gap between on and off stage, when they go hard it’s HARD 🔥🔥🔥 but otherwise they can be softest marshmallows

기키 + 원우　／　KINWOO

🐈‍⬛ ── 85% ... the book fairies

he’s nearly worshipping her *ships tea*

it’s not a big secret that she’s his first love ( at first sight )

and after all these years, she’s still the woman of his dreams

yall know wonwoo wasn’t really talkable person at first but more shy and quiet

well same things can say to her

so she understood his silent and calm yet passionate personality

and kiki really stood by his side and just being his comfort space

she listens to him well, even he express his thoughts into words not that much

she always recommends his glasses and he’ll buy her choice without HESITATION lol

they can spend whole time together without chattng, just reading or sleeping alnogside

and it’s so CUTE

he gave the camera to her for the birthday present, and it made her enjoying to take photos more than ever and he loves the influence he made on her

art museum date, hanging out in the night town and ww just keeps taking photo of her

they have a ritual as they go to the night walk when the group is off to the overseas in tours, strolling the town and find the cozy cafes

she can notice whenever he is stressed or gets nervous and so does he, she often pats his back in those situation and it comforts him really well

u can see ww stares her a LOT in behind contents or gose ( he literally gave up to hide his affection at this point )

tries to teach her how to play pc games but fails everytime

기키 + 지훈　／　KIHOON

🍚 ── 55% ... the vocal boss and the dance queen

trust me, they ARE strong. it’s just not as aloud as others

woozi found japanese beatuful at first bc it’s the language she spoke

and kiki loves the words and lyrics he weaves, his korean is like a poet to her

he doesn’t wanna admits outspokenly but it’s hard to say she hasn’t owned the special ( and soft ) place in his heart

even makes him to do slightest physical contacts: pinches her sleeves, fiddles with her hair, plays with her earrings... and the list continues

kiki’s the one takes care him when he starts to get stuck in the studio for the work

takes him to the short walk, late night drives, make him foods and be sure he gets rest

sometimes they just sit together in the universe factory and chats about the song, anime and composing stuffs, eats takeouts and sessions or duets randomly

she joins as a recording direction besides him time to time, esp in the jp songs recording: she’s the lyricist of the jp songs is one of the reasons but also she has the good ears and able to hear the subtle difference like he does

woozi: *points out the differences* others: okay but WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE kiki: ??? wasn’t it obvious...???

well apparently she’s the closest female to him on the planet ( except his family ofc )

he rarely calls her noona but mostly just calls her kiki, there’s no paticular reason it’s just what it is

(    📁    )   :   NAVI   :  MASTER LIST     

( tag list / open ) : @smh-anon

[lemotmo]

911 8x18 episode thoughts and ruminations:

Okay, where to begin with this episode?

First of all:

I still think it was a good episode, but it wasn’t a good season finale episode. If this had been a midseason finale, it would have been fine, but as a grand finale? Nah.

It was still far better than the season 7 finale though. That one truly made me feel miserable.

Second:

What happened in 8b? It started out so great and then suddenly 8x14 hit us and it got progressively worse from then on, with one highlight in 8x17 and an okay 8x18 which wasn’t an episode fit for a finale.

And where is Tim Minear? He always gives a grand post episode interview and now he’s nowhere to be found? It does make you wonder what is going on at ABC and whether they still trust Tim after all of this mess.

Third: The Bobby storyline.

I really really really believed that the man was still alive. Every single thing in that narrative pointed into that direction. Not to mention the insane things that happened behind the scenes. Did Tim actually give out fake scripts to his actors to consciously mislead the audience? What a terrible thing to do. Why were the actors all laughing at that funeral BTS footage if they were all so sad that Bobby was dead? None of it adds up.

What happened with the Bobby tributes that were posted on the official social media? And why didn’t Peter get a bigger send-off?

I just don’t understand any of this.

So…

Either Bobby is still alive and we’ll find out next season OR he’s really dead and it was really poorly handled.

Fourth: The Buddie factor.

DISCLAIMER: I still very much believe that Buddie is going canon. If you don’t like that, turn away now.

(A cut to save your dash)

I have seen more than enough evidence in season 8 that it is happening. You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to. It’s important to follow your gut on this and I’m following mine.

But please, don’t blame me or other Buddie positive people for ‘making’ you believe they would happen in season 8. That is craziness. I turned off anon for now. I’ll probably keep it turned off for a while during this hiatus. If you want to be mad at me because of a TV-show? You can do it publicly.

I have been here since day one and I have seen much more dire season endings than this one when it comes to Buddie. I’m not throwing the towel into the ring now. At least we got a lot of scenes of them together in 8, which is more than in some other seasons. And this time we got actual Buddie build up, so I’m not going anywhere.

That being said, I know full well that there was a big Buddie problem in the back end of 8b.

The problem once again comes back to Bobby’s death. Oliver himself said in a recent interview that a lot of the personal storylines were sidelined because of the Bobby thing. It’s obvious from the beginning of 8B that they were planning on doing Buddie. Everything in the narrative was clearly leading us towards an 8B ending with one or two realisations. Instead the Bobby thing happened and derailed EVERYTHING.

It didn’t just derail Buddie, it also completely derailed Hen’s storyline and even Athena’s story.

I’m still confident in Buddie canon happening, because of the crazy upfronts interviews. Ali reminded me earlier that the upfronts are basically there to promote the next season of TV-shows.

So yeah, I’m still going to follow the narrative here and trust that Bobby’s death pushed Buddie into season 9, where they will tell us their full story. At least we didn’t end up with a half-assed love confession and then off screen development to come into full-fledged ‘together’ Buddie in season 9. That would have been my worst nightmare.

I loved the Buddie moments we got in 8x17 and the very few ones we got in the finale. I’ve seen people talk about how those moments in the finale were the same thing that we got seasons ago. I have to respectfully disagree here. That rescue scene? Buddie gold that was filmed with clear intent.

I was puzzled with Buck looking for a place of his own though. He only just moved in and he’s leaving again? I was hoping for a Buddie roommates era, but alas… it might not happen. I’m interested in seeing what will happen there.

Fifth: Eddie my love.

Eddie Diaz has been treated terribly this season. The man is my favourite character and I really thought we were going to get more focus on him in 8, but his story never truly went anywhere. To be fair, he was probably doomed since season 7 when Tim came up with the stupid Vertigo storyline. I don’t think Tim knew how to deal with the consequences of that storyline, so then he half-assed it by making Eddie first choose joy to only then move to Texas, a place where he never knew joy.

Then he was sidelined in 2 episodes and was only brought back in 8x16, to say two lines or something like that. 8x17 was a great Eddie episode, but it wasn’t enough.

I loved Eddie in the finale. The hero music they played when he came in to save the day? Epic. But then he went straight back to looking for flights to go back to Texas. I am disappointed about that to be honest. His whole journey was about finding joy and choosing joy. Instead Chimney decided for him and everyone else that the 118 wasn’t going to split up.

Now, I do think that Eddie was already 90% with his heart in LA and that he wouldn’t need a big push to stay. Chimney just helped him along. It just would have been nice to see him make the conscious decision to stay in LA, with his family and Buck, because he is happier there.

And suddenly he is already moving in? What about his Texas house? Did he sell it? It didn’t make any sense.

Side-note: Eddie looked absolutely gorgeous in this episode. I legit crashed out when he showed up to help out the 118. It took me a few minutes to get my brain back online.

Sixth: a few miscellaneous topics that threw me off.

Athena selling the house didn’t make a lick of sense to me. This was hers and Bobby’s dream house. She told her kids she wasn’t moving out and then she suddenly changes her mind? What were her motivations? It wasn’t clear at all.

The second Madney baby was suddenly just there? This is a clear example of yet another storyline botched up by Bobby’s death. There was no emotional pay-off in that last scene. And sure they called the baby after Bobby, but I felt nothing.

The only thing that made me cry in the episode was that wonderful Chimney speech. Kenny did a great job there.

In conclusion:

Either ABC sits down with Tim and lays down some rules he has to abide to for season 9 OR they ship him off to Nashville, so someone else with a more clear vision, sense of pacing and natural flair for good storytelling steps in to take over.

If Tim does go to Nashville, I hope he takes Kristen with him.

I’m 100% tuning in for season 9, since I still love these characters so much and I need to see what happens to them. I am not giving up my Buddie-truther ways after 7 seasons. I have faith in them. I’ve been here before with other ships. This isn’t anything new. 😋

But I’m definitely going to go into that season with a bit more caution if Tim will still be there as a showrunner.

[svndaysaweek]

Niche — {Feat. Hanni}

4.5k words

A/N: Guess who’s back! I’ve returned, from 5 months of hiatus, with a long-waited Hanni fic. This was written when @kaedespicelatte was a total Hanni stan, but idk if he still is doing that… Anyways, please enjoy this spin-off of my Academia series. This time is about a bit about philosophy and love itself. Eternal gratitude to @usedpidemo for editing and polishing this one!

******

"Three, two, one!"

With a cute pout, Hanni, sitting across the table opposite to you, blows the gentle fire off all nine birthday candles. She looks so happy as you can read under the dimly lit dark orange dining room. A proud smile stretches wide across your face.

"Can't believe you're already this big, Hanni. This is for you."

You hand Hanni a small wine-red box, and with a surprised smile she brings it in front of her.

"What's this, oppa?"

"Open it,"

With a silent click the box opens, presenting a thin golden necklace with the letter 'H' in cursive hanging. Touched by your gift, Hanni lets out a long, surprised gasp before she looks up again at you, looking adorable.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it! What does this 'H' mean, oppa?"

"It could mean anything, Hanni. Happiness, hope, heart, and of course your name, Hanni."

Hanni stares at the letter on the necklace for a while with deep deliberation in her eyes. You watch her with a twinkle in your own eyes. She then looks back at you with a certain decision already made up.

"I'll just put all of them in this necklace, oppa. Hope, heart, happiness, and my name… They all are priceless when you say them."

You want to squeeze her in your embrace, only to be denied by the table separating you two. Happiness, hope, heart—and her name, Hanni. They all mean the same to you. She has been your happiness since the day you were adopted to her family. Your opaque, cloudy, uncertain future was given hope by her presence in your life. And heart–

"Heart, oppa. Do you know what the ancient Greeks thought of the heart?"

You shake your head.

"No."

Hearing your response, Hanni softly intertwines your hands together with hers. The cold necklace is handed into your palm.

"Can you put this on my neck?"

You rise from your chair and walk around the table to her, doing what she asked. Hanni rises from her seat too, facing your collarbones due to her height. She lets her hands softly rest on your shoulders, which you freely allow.

"They thought the heart of human beings contained their own souls within it."

You finish clasping her necklace around her neck. Looking down at her, she seems very shy and nervous. One of Hanni's hands trails down to the middle of your chest, where your heart is set alight, beating with an increasing rate because of her sudden but sensitive touch.

"I think your heart does. I can feel it."

For a moment, you lose grip on your consciousness and fall into her, but no.

"What are you doing, Hanni?"

You ask her as calmly and kindly as possible, not wanting to offend her even by the least. You feel so warm and so loved, but still, you are embarrassed and a little shy by the sudden touch on your body from Hanni. Nevertheless, she doesn't back up from where you are right now, as if she completely expected this to happen.

"You know, oppa, when somebody loves someone, the person can feel the soul of someone he or she is in love with."

You feel your heart beating faster and faster, as if responding to every word she says—as if her lips contain the spark that makes your heart burn brighter and hotter with each passing second.

Hanni's other hand finds one of yours and brings it to your chest, drumming fast to the point you’re certain your heart will explode. Your face is no different at all, furiously burning in front of her and throbbing to your crazy heartbeat.

"Which means, I love you."

Oh.

By now, you already knew it was coming, but when you hear it spoken from her divine lips you're struck silent—not that you haven't been speechless so far, and that's because you are not ready for it. Your heart is now merely seconds away from bursting out of your chest, beating wildly against Hanni's palm.

"H-Hanni…"

Not listening to your stuttering, she places your hand on her chest and slightly pushes it into her chest.

"Can you feel it too, oppa? My heart—it has been beating for you since the day I met you. My soul has always been yours, oppa."

You look up from your hand on Hanni's chest to her twinkling eyes; hers have never left contact with yours almost all night long.

"I-I can feel it, Hanni… But this is–"

When you say 'but,' Hanni's eyebrows curl into a frown, and it crushes your heart into pieces. She didn't confess her love sincerely only to hear rejection from you.

This setting—where you are in love with your step sister—might sound a little bit wrong, but now, in front of Hanni, even questioning if it's right or wrong is the most wrong thing possible.

Well, even the strict Nietzsche was in love with his sister.

"Hanni."

You, with your warmest tone, call her name with a solid decision in your voice.

"Yes…?"

Hanni, however, murmurs back, tone disappointed, assuming you are trying to reconfirm your rejection. You have to, given the circumstances, but this time, you break the rules set throughout history—from Epicure to Sartre, reason has to precede instinct. But love—it gives the human mind amazing power and growth. And at this moment you wholeheartedly believe that with love fueling your heart, any rules against it can be buried beside all those “reasonable” thinkers, and that you are the one with the spade. It is okay even if it’s just a blind mistake.

Because it sure will be the most beautiful mistake of the human mind.

"I love you too, Hanni."

Your words land directly through her ears, and they travel straight down to her heart, even before her brain processes them. Love—it's the only language in which the souls can communicate. Straight from your heart and into hers, and they both react wildly, unable to ignore their deepest desires.

Surprised, Hanni swiftly looks up at you, eyes gleaming with tears. Her lips part, but not a syllable comes out, before–

"Oppa–"

You don't have to say a word, Hanni.

Your love has already done more than enough.

And right now, you speak to her soul with your lips.

You kiss her parted lips, sealing the gap perfectly. Your hand remains on her chest, you feel her heart beating even faster as if shaking you off. The same is true on your side.

A few seconds of liplock is enough for your soul to express love to hers, but as soon as you pull back from them, Hanni cups your face with her warm hands to fulfill the paused act of pure love. Your hands slowly climb up to her shoulders, to her soft, pulsing neck, and finally to her blushed, warm cheeks.

Who said following the essence of instincts is not humanly? 

Who thought the instant impulses would never create long lasting happiness?

Your love for Hanni and hers toward you defies that right in the face, as you detach from the kiss and peck her palm on your cheek, never losing eye contact with her.

Happiness is reached when one overcomes resistance. Nietzsche was right about it, and he himself did overcome the obstacles and fell in love with his sister to prove that.

Forget about everything tonight. Let the love lead you. It can't hurt deeper than where your love is springing from.

Hanni pulls your hand to her chest again, but this time you feel something different. Her fingers delicately slide down on your shirt, from your chest to where your belly is. Hanni pushes your hand on her chest deeper to make you feel the softness of her breasts, and her other hand on you stops.

"I want you to feel more than my heart tonight, oppa. And I want to feel more than your soul too."

It's a question and a permission at the same time—a question asking for deeper, thicker love, and a permission to develop the love between to the next level, which you can't—and won’t—say no to.

At this point, you feel like you could happily stop loving her if she tells you to, if that makes her happy. But what stops now is your reason and rationality, which have been vulnerable throughout the night.

"Aah–mmmph,"

You softly squeeze her petite breast, inhaling her cute but deep moan right from her mouth, sealing its exit not to let a single strand escape.

Love makes a person grow.

But the only thing growing because of love is the bulge behind your clothes, aching to be unleashed. Hanni sneaks a hand under your shirt to touch your bare abs, chest, and back. Sensing the physical form of love flowing from her warm fingers through your skin, you briefly leave her lips and quickly get rid of your shirt. You see Hanni's glistening lips needily follow your head pulling back and grin at how adorable your little girl is.

Hanni then tries to get out of her own clothes, but you stop her arms from reaching the hem of her sweater and place her arms around your neck. Looking at your eyes with a piercing glare, Hanni crushes her lips on yours again, and you lift her by her legs and head to the bedroom.

Gently setting Hanni down on the mattress, you undress her. Shirt first, then the pants follow. Afterward, you give yourself a few seconds to admire the beautiful sculpture lying in front of you, showing off her bare, fair skin. Brushing your thumb on her midriff, you dive into her neck, then descend to her collarbone, shoulders and upper chest, to let Hanni relax and react to your sexual actions.

Not letting a second go to waste, she responds, arching her back at your most sensitive and stimulating touches before unclasping her own bra. At the sight of her exposed breasts you can’t waste a moment to dive in and softly peck her creamy skin, making her moan lightly. To prepare Hanni for what you’re about to do tonight, you ramp up the stimuli by touching and sucking on her nipples.

"I-I love it, oppa. Do you–haa, love them too…?"

Hanni's arms reach around your back and smoothly wander across your skin. Having showered enough love and lust on her breasts, you pull back from them.

"I do, Hanni."

You fucking love them, but profanities are the least things you want to say to your–

"Fuck…!"

Your fingers are barely touching her soaked panties, yet she lets out a thin moan. Not having seen someone this sensitive, you worry for her, whether she feels uncomfortable or not.

"Are you okay, Hanni?"

You look at Hanni with utmost concern, but she's blushing, covering her own mouth with a loose fist. Instead of answering your question, she confesses to you for the second time tonight.

"Oppa… Th-this is my first time having sex, so go easy on me please,”

“Oh, of course, baby. Just relax, it won’t hurt.”

In contrast to your comforting words, her body remains tense as your tongue makes its way down from her breasts, belly, to her hot crotch. Every squirm she makes indicates the level of her anticipation for how good you will feel between her legs. Her hands softly land on your busy head, relaxing when you pause for a second, your head resting right above her wet spot.

"Hanni, you're wet."

Your teasing words do work. Hanni above your view blushes and bites her bottom lip.

"Oppa, I-I need you to–hnng…!"

You can tell she's loosening up little by little, so you carefully touch her drenched core past the soaked fabric. Slowly going soft and smooth at her most sensitive point, you look up at her face to check if she's fine, only to be met by the newfound pleasure on her disfigured features: the bitten bottom lip, tightly shut eyes, burning cheeks, and mouth covered by the back of her hand.

All of them saying—I'm enjoying this, oppa. I'm loving it. Please–

"Please. Go on."

You give her an assuring smile and dive right in, tongue first. You peck on her wet underwear, immediately sending Hanni's body into overdrive. She squirms, whether intended or not, pushing her crotch into your diligent mouth.

Hanni's mouth, too, is diligent, letting indistinguishable moans free continuously, even at your slightest touches. Your both hands gently massage her slender thighs, while spreading them apart at the same time. Gradually your hands travel closer to the waistband of her underwear, before tugging your fingers under it and sliding it down her smooth legs.

You toss it on the floor, keeping your eyes fixated on her bare crotch and soaked pussy.

You hate it. You never wanted to use such a filthy word on Hanni. But when you actually say it, it's far from dirty—it's beautiful, it's lovely, it's perfect.

Without saying another word you dive in, pouring all your senses on your tongue. You look up again to see how Hanni reacts, and her shaking eyes firmly close when the first divine contact is made.

“Ahh…!"

She yelps—not too loud, but just enough for you to know that she feels so good. Up and down, left to right and then quickly circling around her sweet spot that has been left untouched, virgin–

"I-It's amazing, oppa. You don't know how many times I touched myself imagining this–oh my-oh my god!"

You interrupt her with your middle finger entering her leaking and contracting hole, because you don't want to hear that. Hanni to you has been a pure little girl, the one to be protected from such a sin—not the one moaning words about it, even when you’re committing such a grave act.

Hanni tightly grabs your other hand on her thigh, bringing it on the mattress next to her shaking body which makes Hanni look like she's humping on your mouth and finger. 

Every slight curl of your finger and flick of your tongue confines you deeper inside Hanni's warmth—her hand desperately strengthens its hold, her thighs trap your head in between her legs, and the vulnerable tightness of her pussy firmly hugs your finger.

You can feel your dick furiously bulging behind your pants and boxers, aching to have a piece of her too, but that's not the top priority. In front of you is a squirming, moaning, helpless little girl whose entire body is depending on you.

Suddenly Hanni brings your hand to her perky breast, softly pushing it against her mound. Surprised, you look up and your eyes are met with hers, which, a few moments ago, were filled with love. Now you see the evolved form of love in her eyes—lust. But it's only for a short moment, because her approaching orgasm spreads all over her body, preparing for the inevitable explosion.

It was certainly a short moment, but Hanni's gleaming eyes were more than enough to tell you what she wants—what she needs. You squeeze her breast, upping the ante on your tongue and finger. Noticing your effort, Hanni changes her grip on your hand to intertwine your fingers with hers together.

Every part of her body contracts and quivers, completely engulfed by pleasure; relentless leakage of her juice, shallow breaths, and ecstatic scream seeping out of her bitten lip successfully substitute for "I'm going to cum." Fueled by her lewd sound, you double the pace and soon enough, she comes undone.

"Fuck, oppa!"

You keep your tongue and finger working deep through her orgasm, devouring her pure high with such a dirty slurping sound.

Love can be viewed as just a survival mechanism for human beings to reproduce, but when you feel the essence of it, share the true taste of it, it will be the only way to define each other. Hanni is your love, and you are Hanni's love.

Right now is the complete extent of love between you two, in its purest physical form—the most basic form, and the very destination of it at the same time.

Hanni slowly winds down from her orgasm, still breathing heavily, with the happiest smile etched on her lips. She sits up, then gently caresses your bare shoulder and chest. Her delicate touches squeeze your heart, and your dick is the furthest from easing down.

Grabbing her hand pressed on your chest, you kiss its palm and the back of it imbued with love. Putting that hand behind your neck, Hanni forces your body atop hers, closing whatever distance left that keeps you apart. Her eyes gaze at your lips, and so do you at hers, which smoothly leads to a deep kiss. With one arm supporting your body above her you try to undo your pants. Hanni's both hands slide down your bare upper body to help you dispose of those annoying pants. Right after then she succeeds in helping you pull them down, to make yourself finally naked.

Hearing the sound of your clothes being tossed on the floor, Hanni detaches from the kiss, to take a look at your newly exposed dick. 

"That's… That's bigger than I thought."

Her face blushes even brighter, which you thought was impossible. An unhidden smile curls her lips, concealed by her digging teeth.

How can a person look so innocent and sly at the same time? The cute, shy version of Hanni is long gone, taken away by the sexual tension and the first orgasm done by someone else. On top of that, your exposed body is making it more profound, resulting in Hanni unconsciously taking her hand to your cock.

"I-It's hard and… and warm, oppa."

You can only moan at her sensitive touch on your cock, wildly throbbing and leaking.

"H-Hanni… It's–"

Hanni again interrupts you, but this time with unholy intent.

"Is it because of me, oppa? Is it for me?"

Stop it.

No, don't you stop. You are enjoying this as confused as you are. 

Hanni, once underneath you, flips you onto the bed next to her and prepares to ride you out. There's no sign of innocence on her face now. She stares you down with an anticipatory, excited grin with those piercing eyes shooting straight into yours.

"Hanni, are you sure about this? We can slow down or–"

"I am, oppa. You've done enough for me tonight. For my whole life, too. Why don't you let me show you how big I've grown up?"

This is it. This is what she has been wanting to show you—to show you that she's not just a little girl anymore, that she has grown big enough to love you.

That you don't have to feel guilty at all for loving her back.

Again, love makes people grow.

Now you see the difference. She is independent, confident, lady-like and mature. Every attribute you're obsessed with is on full display. 

She’s blossoming right before your eyes.

"Hanni–"

You try to sit up and kiss her, but the Hanni atop you is no longer passive and shy about receiving kisses from you. She can express how she feels, and she can lead the way herself.

"I love you, oppa."

Hanni pushes you back down on the mattress, then crushes her lips on yours. You can’t help but reciprocate with your tongue, while your arms hastily wander on the silky skin of her back and descend to the bottom.

"Why don't you put it in? I'm soaking wet for you.”

Those words don't sound sinfully wrong anymore, but still they send novel sensations down your spine.

You rub your hard dick on her wetness to prepare for the penetration. As if emphasizing that this is her first, Hanni, just at the briefest touch on her sensitive entrance, moans vulnerably and hugs your neck tightly.

"You've grown up, Hanni. That's true."

Still dangling from the edge, Hanni manages to reply, but it's merely an orgasmic shout.

"Yes, opp–Ahh, nnngh!"

As you push the head of your cock in, Hanni screams loudly as if she wants the whole universe to know how much she loves it, but the flooding pleasure of the first sex proves to be so overwhelming, so her nails dig into your back skin, and her teeth also make their mark on your shoulder, as if to inject her suppressed erotic moans into your pulsing veins.

"But you're still my little girl, baby."

Hanni quickly nods at your declaration, pleading for more. You don't want to hurt her, so you keep it slow, trying your best to make the experience comfortable for Hanni.

Yes, she has already proven herself right, and you can accept that, but you just can't go wild on such a weak girl. So weak and soft that if you make even a slightly deep, hard thrust, she'd break.

Slowly, slowly. You're halfway inside Hanni and she seems to have adjusted a bit. It's agonizing for you that you only have to explore her inside like this.

Just then, without warning Hanni sinks down swiftly, forcing sharp gasps from your lungs out of unexpected sensation.

"F-Fuck, Hanni that's…!"

"Nnngh…!"

You are now fully inside her, completely hugged tightly by her violently contracting walls. Hanni's entire body also is wildly reacting to her pussy being filled up to the hilt.

"Are you okay, Hanni?"

"Haa, haa, th-that's deep, oppa…"

You tilt your head a little and whisper in her ear.

"I'm going to move, okay? Tell me when it hurts, baby. I'll stop."

"I'm-I'm okay, oppa. I love it."

Her words hit your shoulder with her hot breaths and are shattered at the edge.

You carefully pull back from her pussy, leaving only half of your cock inside. With your both hands firm on her cheeks below, you gently slip back in and press contact with her sensitive cervix again.

"I-I can't wait, oppa, just fuck me. I'm alright, so don't worry about me and make love to me."

Hearing that, you flip your bodies over and put your hands at each side next to her head. Hanni never lets go of her embrace, looking at you nervously and excitedly. You swipe her glistening lips with your thumb before meeting them with yours, tongue first.

As soon as your lips make holy contact, you start pistoning in her cunt, forcing moans out of her mouth and straight into yours. With one hand supporting your body, your other hand trails down her body. You stay at her taut nipple and perfect mound for a while, playing with it before continuing your journey downward.

To her side, her belly, tummy, and lastly arriving at her hot crotch. Your thumb again draws a loud moan out of her when it touches her clit. Pleasure from her clit triples the pleasure of your consistent thrusts in and out of her pussy.

"I-I think I'm close, oppa."

It only means that you have to ramp up the pace, so you do. Sensing the increased tempo, Hanni bites your lower lip, desperate to find an outlet for the tension from the unbearable pleasure coursing through her body.

"You're going to make me cum, oppa. Please make me cum, make me cum hard on you, please…!"

Still biting on your lip she begs, and with passionate love you make your thrusts even harder to fulfill her desire. Hanni's walls convulse, and every deep thrust makes her back rise bit by bit, until her belly meets yours.

"Mmmph! Oppa–Ahh…!"

When Hanni peaks you don't stop, fucking her through her orgasm. With every thrust you make sure Hanni's cumming hard. You make sure she's feeling good and loving every single second.

"I l-love it, oppa! Just like that…!"

There's no slowing down, when your own high is right ahead of you, a stone’s throw away. There's never coming down for Hanni when your fucking only gets harder.

"Hanni, baby, I'm close."

With an orgasmic frown on her brows contradicting her satisfied smile on her lips, she says, "Oppa, it's your turn to feel good. Let me make you cum, so don't you dare slow down."

"Where do you want me to finish, Hanni?"

"I-Inside, oppa. I'm on pills. Give me all your love."

You can't believe this is her first time, but you can certainly believe in love, turning your thrusts that are after your orgasm into motions of love. Hanni looks at you, while you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. Still, you manage to meet her halfway, even at the very moment when you are–

"I'm cumming…!"

Looking right into her eyes, you let the pleasure overpower you. Stuck deep inside her pussy, you release your cum. Your neck gives in, and your foreheads kiss.

"Yes, inside me… I've been wanting this so much…"

This is one of the highest highs you've ever felt, and it never lets you go soon. You really want to say 'I love you’ to Hanni, but the aftershock of sex leaves you devoid of strength, you can't do anything but breathe heavily on her face.

"I loved it, oppa. Thank you for being my first. I love you."

You give her a peck.

"I love you so much, Hanni. I'm so happy that you're here for me. I'm so happy that you're the one that loves me."

Strength regained, you reply. Then you give her another quick peck.

With lust washed away, there's only love left in her eyes. Hanni’s smile never leaves her face, even when you pull out and lie beside her.

"Hanni," Out of curiosity you ask her. "How are you on pills…? Oh, is that–"

Hanni giggles.

"Yes, oppa. I've been planning this for weeks. Thank god you liked it!"

"I loved it, Hanni."

You put your lazy hand on her midriff, and her hand rests atop your hand on her glistening belly.

"You're sweaty, baby. Let's wash ourselves."

You carry her to the bathroom, and Hanni lets out a cute, excited yelp as you lift her up.

******

After the shower, you two are lying on the bed, facing each other and looking at each other, without any words.

"Oppa."

"Mhmm?"

You raise your brows.

"I really really love you."

You giggle at how adorable your little girl is, like always. But the adorableness you sense now resonates even deeper in your heart, and the reason is for all the universe to know—with the big difference you two have made tonight, you won’t view Hanni Pham in a way like never before. But that’s nothing to lament on, of course, rather a perfect example of happiness and love.

"Love you too."

Whether straight through a shortcut or some other way around, Hanni, once your step sister, and now, your lover, has found the perfect place to be. Where she belongs.

Hanni has found herself the niche.

She comes into your arms, buries her face on your chest.

Yes. In your arms, she's perfect here, inside your warm, loving embrace.

"Good night, oppa."

She muffles her words on your shirt. You kiss her head and muffle back sweetly.

"Happy birthday, Hanni."

[nikmikaelsonswife]

breastfeeding patrick

warnings: smut—18+ only, breastfeeding!kink, mommy!kink, daddy!kink, pet names usage, mentions of bodily fluids, slight ass!play (really just grabbing and kissing, fem & male receiving), slight hand job, nipple/tit!play, you’re breast feeding a grown ass man ;)

a/n: came back from a hiatus i never thought would end to write something i couldn’t find so i decided to cook it up myself. my writing is a little rusty, haven’t whipped something up in over a year and i wrote this in like 2 hours so bare with me. challengers has brought me back to this hellsite and im here for a good time, not a long time. enjoy!!

thinking about patrick with a breastfeeding kink and him taking on a whole new appreciation and hunger for your breasts towards the end of your pregnancy and after you give birth to his child.

he fucking loved and admired all the ways your pregnancy had changed you, loved kneading the flesh of your ass, hips and thighs. loved it when you’d lay on your stomach—relishing in that luxury since you hadn’t been able to in so long with your belly bump—and let him play with you and worship you in all the ways he’d constantly dreamed of, let him push up your nightie and suckle and bite on the cheeks of your ass so much so that dark purple marks trailed down all parts of you. only helped you come to love the differences in your shape quicker.

the fact that he could become even more impossibly enamored with your body, especially any of the most womanly parts, equally surprising and comforting to you with your hormones and constantly changing perspective of yourself.

especially of the crazy change in your chest size. patrick always had been a sworn ass guy, that is until the night you let him see your bare skin for the first time and fuck, he loved your tits like nothing else in the entire world. especially now.

he’d attempted to admire the increased swell of your breasts and widening of your areolas from afar, always attempted to hide the way his cock thickened at the sight of pearls of white dripping from your hardened nipples and rolling down your sweat slick chest with a quick adjustment of his length inside his boxers. didn’t tell you about how he wished to lick you clean, tastebuds itching for the concoction that was your sweat and breastmilk, him often envious of the rags or t-shirts you’d use to wipe yourself down instead. his lips often twitched at the idea of sucking your breasts into his mouth, drinking in the excess milk that you’d let him taste, try and have all for himself. he didn’t wanna steal from your daughter though, hated the idea of her being upset, keeping you up all throughout the night because her daddy took away the only thing that truly calmed her down. didn’t wanna hurt you, physically or emotionally. he knew you were sensitive, didn’t wanna suck or pinch you too hard, didn’t want you thinking his mind and heart were consumed with sex while you were experiencing the rollercoaster that is postpartum.

except you knew your man and you always noticed when he was turned on as well as when he was trying to hide something from you. took hint of the way his eyes lingered on your chest when you (purposefully) left one tit free, the other typically occupied by your newborn as you fed her around the clock. felt his light touch in the middle of the night moments before one of you would wake and get up to feed the baby, when he’d slightly move the top of your tank to the side (at times, your nipples would already be on display, as your tops were too loose to completely cover your chest during your usual toss and turns that rattled your slumber, and oh how patrick loved to wake up to the sight of that) and flick his thumb over your soft peaks, bringing the finger to his tongue so he could taste you.

he’d only let himself have a little though, was just curious as to why his daughter loved the shit so much. he didn’t want to get too greedy and lose control and suck on your nipples til you were dry (at least on your top side).

you never missed the way his tongue would flicker over his drying pink lips whenever you’d soak your top with the substance, dampened dark spots forming right above your nipples within the fabric. smiled at how excited he’d get when you’d ask him to fetch you a new shirt, knowing he’d have an excuse to see your bare tits, all beautiful and swollen, all cause of him. “thanks pat,” you’d whisper as he’d help pull your camisole over your head, dropping a quick yet warm kiss on your brow before helping your arms through the new top he’d brought you.

his hands would always inch the hem of the top down as slow as possible without being too obvious (newsflash: you still noticed), so he could drink you all in. oh how bad he wanted to squeeze your breasts, hoping to force some of that godly liquid to spurt out of your nipples onto him.

you knew what he wanted, caught the naughty dark glint that swirled in his cobalt irises. and you knew you wanted it just as bad as he did.

his gaze flickered to meet your own when you caught his wrist, a twinge of confusion mixed with concern brightening his eyes a tad. he was questioning why you’d stopped him, immediately wondering if he’d done something wrong. had he grabbed the wrong shirt? did you hate the color? the material? did he accidentally put it on you backwards? had he been too much and you wanted to put in on yourself? he didn’t wanna make you feel helpless, he knew you were strong, you’d pushed his baby out after all, a zweig baby at that, and everybody knows how big their heads can get, not to mention their ears holy shit—

“help me out?” your bottom lip was punched out, eyes all sad and pleading underneath your long dark lashes. he recognized that look, knew you to use it on him every time you wanted something even though you knew he’d do anything for you no matter what as he’d made it clear so many times. yes, you knew that, it was just that broken down and babyish and all concerned and totally whipped ass look that made him look so pretty that he’d get on his face whenever you used it on him that made you whip it out every single time. it never failed you.

“always, baby,” he moved your hands so that yours on his wrist was now underneath his, his much larger and calloused fingers clasping your own. he brought your joined hands to his mouth, placing a soft kiss there. he was always kissing you.

“i feel so…” you trailed off, bottom lip jutting out even further as you feigned a small whine. “so full, pat. i can’t take it.”

dark brows furrowed in confusion as he briefly scanned your body for a second, attempting to figure out where and how exactly. you hadn’t eaten in a couple of hours, choosing to skip your usual late night snack and opting to attempt get some rest in instead. where else could you be so full?

oh. the word echoed in his mind, the realization silencing all his questions as you brought your joined hands to your chest, leaving his hand solo on your right breast. you wanted to moan at the feeling of him on your skin there, as he’d been avoiding touching your chest entirely other than the times you’d specifically asked for him to touch you there (such as helping the baby latch on or assisting you with one of those tricky breast pumpers).

“m’so full, daddy. please.” with that you arched your back into his hand ever so slightly, pushing your breast further into his palm.

despite the sensitivity that spanned your chest, you desperately wanted patrick to be a little rough with you. perhaps it was just you missing old times, like the night you fell pregnant in the first place. missed the way he’d tug and smack at your tits, nipping and biting as his hips snapped into yours. missed the way he’d fuck you and treat you like you were created just to get him off in the most paradoxical manner, as he’d also worship your body with kisses all over and praises falling from his lips, “fuckin’ love this ass, and this pretty pussy, and your sexy tits, it’s all mine? yeah, baby, all mine.”

it was clear he was afraid of hurting you, all so appreciative of what you’d put your body through because of him. the old you, before you’d gotten pregnant, would’ve laughed and called him a pussy for how soft he was being. he was holding back for you, dick so fucking angry and needy, straining and staining his boxers as he softly pressed the pads of his fingers into your smooth flesh, squeezing you gently.

a soft moan left your throat, eyelids fluttering as you continued to press into him for more. he squeezed you again, this time harder, a small white droplet trickling from your hard nipple.

fuck, patrick could’ve came then and there, his precum mirroring your milk as it continued to ooze from the slit of the head of his cock. “let me see you,” you pleaded, lids heavy as your nails clawed at his waistband, almost as if you knew of his reaction down there. almost as if you noticed the increasingly darkening, sticky spot in his plaid shorts.

anything his princess wants was the motto patrick lived and would’ve willingly died by, immediately shoving his boxers down his thighs, bracing himself on the heels of his feet in order to do so. your pussy was soaking wet now and he’d barely touched you, the sight of his engorged head and thick dark cock, his ball sac heavy and full as it sat beautifully between his sweaty, meaty thighs caused tears to spring to your eyes as you wished the wait to be able to be sexually active postpartum was so much shorter than it actually was. your cunt painfully ached for his intrusion, silently crying and pleading for that dick as if your slit was skillfully created just for it. you and him both would’ve swore on everything it was.

“fuck, pat.”

“tell me what you want, baby.” he began to gently massage you then, the eggshells he’d been walking on dissolving as he grew more confident apart from the fear that he’d hurt you in some way. his other hand had fallen between his legs, gently kneading his balls in rhythm with his massaging of your breast, his finger softly fanning over your nipple.

he looked so gorgeous, your baby daddy. with his dark curls and stubble, a matching tuff of hair at the base of his cock. he was all man, rippling bulging muscles that stretched his tanned skin, thick defined thighs flanking a girthy and veiny cock that had split every hole of yours open, being so soft for you when he was so inconsiderate and mean and rough with everybody else.

you loved him unconditionally, both constrained and unconstrained. but damn, you needed him to let loose right now.

“want you to suck on my tits, want you drink my milk.”

he couldn’t help but audibly groan at that.

patrick nearly jumped to lay on his stomach, the head of his dick caught between his abs and the soft burgundy comforter that covered your shared bed. he raised up a bit to find your lips with his, pushing his tongue into your mouth almost instantly, wanting to taste every part of you.

kissing down your neck and chest, he finally began at your nipple, hot tongue following the soft white trail that the leaking milk had left behind before softly suckling at the peak. then suddenly, his insatiable need for you increased and he continued to take more and more of your breast into his mouth until his cheeks were stuffed with your burning flesh. the blunt ends of his stubble scratched against your warm skin as he drunk from you like that, your nipple on his tongue nearing the back of his throat as the taste of your breastmilk flooded the insides of his mouth, your other nipple warm with sparks of pleasure as he softly rubbed the bud underneath the rough pad of his thumb, the ridges in his skin tickling yours.

your fingers moved into his hair, gently tugging at the soft curls before scratching at his scalp. he whimpered in response, brows dipping in immense content and appreciation at the feeling you knew he’d enjoyed all his life.

patrick’s eyes flitted open to meet your gaze, adams apple bobbing in his throat as he impossibly stuffed himself full of you, ferociously sucking and slurping like his life fucking depended on it. his lids were heavy, irises completely blown out as he grew more and more tit milk drunk, his long tongue flicking out to trace your areola. you watched his mouth grow impossibly wide as he did it, your baby daddy drowning himself in your breasts a disgustingly beautiful sight to take in. his spit was all over your chest just from him sucking on one tit, pooling in the valley between your breasts as well as underneath. you were soaked with his fluids as well as your own in a number of places on your body.

his hips rolled against the comforter, cock rubbing against the soft fabric as he suckled on your breast, moaning around your flesh as the feeling against his cock along with your nails against his scalp created something like a pleasureful supernova in his gut, with sparks flying and crashing and his balls twitching.

you watched in awe as the muscles in his ass flexed with each jut of his hips, your hand that wasn’t in his hair moving down, arm stretching so you could reach as far as you could down his back. he was a long man, and your fingers could only brush the top of his ass, but you didn’t care. you gripped as much was within reach, feeling the top of right ass cheek flex in and out as he rutted against the bed.

“doing so good for mommy, pat. don’t stop, baby.”

a guttural groan escaped him at change of the dynamic. he fucking loved dominating you, forcing you to take his dick through your tears or to watch him fist himself far and restricted from your touch. but damn, did he have a sweet spot for being mommy’s baby. he wouldn’t be a proper grown ass man with mommy issues if he didn’t. and he’d do anything for you, anything to make mommy happy, anything for her to be proud. anything to prove to you he was a good enough, at being a partner, a lover, a father, a best friend, everything he was to you and wanted to be to you forever.

he’d neglected your other breast long enough, your right one popping out of his mouth with a light wet sound, before he smushed your tits together with his big hands and lapped up both nipples at the same time. moving his head from side to side and up and down, he licked at both peaks simultaneously, relishing in your endless sounds of approval from above.

he never stopped fucking himself into the mattress, even moving himself up higher on top of the bed so you could grab onto more of his ass like the true slut he was for you, fucking loving and craving your touch anywhere on him. you pushed your palm against him, forcing him further into the bed as his thrusts grew more ragged and wild, chasing his release.

he was nipping and biting at your breasts now and fuck, it hurt so damn good, the left one now the focus of his attention as he drunk and slurped from it, moaning at the taste of your liquid. you urged him up the bed further so you could snake a hand underneath him, his body nearly curled in half in order to allow your fingers to brush past his cock and grip his balls while his wanton mouth remained on your breast.

you gently squeezed and massaged him as he sucked you, both of you praising one another with sounds of pleasure. you both felt so fucking good, knowing this was needed after taking a break from all sexual activity. sex was one of the main driving forces behind you and patrick’s relationship, your first and one of your favorite ways of proving how much you cared for one another.

above all, patrick was genuinely prideful. so proud of the way you allowed him take over your body like this, the way it changed to accommodate your baby, the strength of it to bring her into this world and bring him new senses of the meaning of life and love, two words he’d always struggled since he was brought into this world to find and understand the deep meaning and importance of.

[leather-n-velvet]

High & Low: Part V

A Drew Starkey x singer/actress!OC SMAU

Summary: While on hiatus from touring and wanting to branch out with her career, Ivy Blake auditions for OBX, immediately hitting it off with none other than Drew Starkey during their chemistry read. As tension and drama brew between the two, can they get through the highs and lows that come with fame and relationships together?

A/N: I just want to preface this chapter- this is FICTION. This is an alternate universe and in no way reflects the actual people. I have just used them as a device of convenience due to picture availability. Please do not send anyone any hate.

Also, there are two more little blurbs in this one. I'm still getting back into the swing of writing, so I'm very sorry if it's horrible 😬

Chapter warnings: allusions to sex (no actual smut, but MDNI), cursing, O mentions (sorry).

Dividers by: @cafekitsune ⭐️🌙

Previous Part // Masterlist

ivyblake

Liked by drewstarkey, haley_james, and 3,293,389 others.

ivyblake IB x Naked Cashmere

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haley_james BEAUTIFUL. AMAZING. STUNNING. SHOW STOPPER.

drewstarkey wow. fuck me.

*comment has been deleted*

drewstarkey wow

madelyncline WIFE

user5 BODYODYODYODY

user7 perfection

hater1 why is she always half naked

haley_james because she can. hope this helps. 😊

NakedCashmere

Liked by haley_james, TheIvyLeague, and 764,386 others.

NakedCashmere We are so excited to have @/ivyblake as our newest brand ambassador. Catch the live stream of Sunday's show on our website!

#IBxNakedCashmere

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user4 can she be any more perfect?

user8 MOTHER

user2 I can't think of a better collab for her

TheIvyLeague ready to try to get my hands on this collection

Ivy’s phone:

Finstas

sonotivyleague

Liked by starboyd, madrecliner, and 213 others.

sonotivyleague happy 🩵 @/starboyd

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madrecliner AKDNFJSKAB

rude_boy bout damn time

djdavisssss ^^^^ RT

lacigurl MY BABIES

highwaytohale CUTIES

starboyd my girl 🩵

starboyd

Liked by sonotivyleague, lacigurl, and 108 others.

starboyd happy 🩵 @/sonotivyleague

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lacigurl YES I TOLD UR ASS

madrecliner my work here is done 😌

sonotivyleague 🩵🩵🩵🩵

O's phone:

Drew’s phone:

Drew was… for lack of a better word, fucked. At least, he thought he would be once he told Ivy the situation. Of course, Ivy was a very understanding person but this was a big deal to her. But how could he go back on his word to O*dessa and A*aron? The guilt was already building, knowing he’d have to disappoint one person he cared about.

“Baby?” He called, walking to the doorway of Ivy’s home studio. It was her sanctuary, truly. All the plants, the warm colors, the mismatched rugs, the couches from her favorite antique stores, she could truly let her creativity flow in a place like this. 

She turned, her beautiful smile lighting up the room as she rose from the piano. “Hey, I didn’t hear you get back. I was talking to Poppy about Sunday and since you and I don’t want to go fully public yet, she said you can hang out with her and Haley while I do my photo ops.”

Their lips met in a sweet but steamy kiss before he pulled back, hands resting on her hips. “About that, I have some bad news.”

Her eyebrows crinkled, wondering what in the world could have happened between when they'd woken up wrapped in each other this morning, her blissfully sore from their reunion the night before, and the hour he had been on his run. “What?”

“Um, I have a thing for a friend that I promised I’d go to. I’m so sorry, baby. Everything has just been insane lately and I completely forgot. I didn’t even remember until O*dessa reminded me.”

Ivy felt a slight dip in her stomach at the mention of the girl’s name. Drew hadn’t given her any reason to be jealous nor to worry, but O*dessa always just seemed to be there. Something in her gut told her not to trust her completely, but until Drew gave her a reason not to trust him, she wasn’t going to be the crazy girlfriend causing issues with his friends.

Drew watched as the disappointment settled on her face, making his heart ache. There weren’t many things in this life that he absolutely hated, but this was definitely the top of the list. Only a month together and he was already disappointing her. 

“Oh. Well, okay.” She muttered, pasting on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Are you okay?”

She sighed, “I mean, I’m a little sad but you made a commitment. I can’t be mad at you for being a good friend and following through.” 

“I swear, I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart.” He pulled her closer, brushing his lips against her forehead. “I hate that I’m not going to be there. I know this is a big deal for you.”

She smiled softly at him, “It’s one event, honey. I’m a big girl.”

ivyblake

Liked by madelyncline, JillianBlake, and 14,239,489 others.

ivyblake Thank you for having me, @/NakedCashmere 💋

#IBxNakedCashmere

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JillianBlake so proud of you honey ❤️

madelyncline GODDESS

user1 utter perfection

user8 GLOWING

Ivy's phone:

After Drew had gotten back to her house twenty minutes after their last text, she had pretended to be asleep but her mind was racing with worry. He brushed a kiss to her head before settling in behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer.

Ivy couldn't shake it as she looked back at her dimmed phone. The pictures that O*dessa had posted made her blood boil. An event supposedly so important that Drew had to come to and they looked like they were playing dress up to pose for selfies. She didn't want to judge, O*dessa and A*aron were younger than she and Drew were, so maybe she was overthinking it and looking for issues but she couldn't help it.

Haley and Poppy were genuinely confused as to why Drew wasn't at the show after she had talked him up so much and was so excited that he was accompanying her. To tell them that he had to cancel last minute was borderline embarrassing.

Even through text, she could tell Drew was feeling guilty about the situation, so it was hard to be completely mad at him. There was just something that was telling her that the whole thing seemed fishy.

A/N: Aaaaaand we have drama. Please let me know what you think and if you'd like to be added to the taglist. I'm so grateful for all of the likes, reblogs, and feedback I've gotten! HUGE thank you to @starkeysbebe for all of her help in this fic!!!

Taglist: @davinashifts333, @rafegf-real