#let me know if this needs changed any ^.^

[bizarrelovetriangel]

the sea god and his beloved bride.

sea god rafayel in heat / ebb day

mdni. 18+ only.

Rafayel is burning up.

Despite being in the frigid water of his pool in the center of the Sea God's Temple, he feels hot under your touch. More scales have appeared on the frame of his flushed face, shining under the moonlight beaming through the windows.

"Don't come any closer."

Rafayel's low, deep voice shakes as he forces himself to move away from you, when all he wanted was to pull you close and hold you tightly; to feel the warmth of your body against his.

"It's... dangerous for you to be this close..."

"Rafayel..." Ignoring his warning, you pushed yourself close to him. "I want to help you. Please let me make you feel better."

He closes his eyes and sighs as your soft fingers trails down his neck.

The way you make him feel just from light touches... maybe you were the dangerous one.

You have no idea what power you have over him.

"Okay."

You slowly slide down the tips of your fingers from his neck to his collar bones, then to his chest, lingering on the scales that are scattered on his skin just like shimmering stars on the night sky.

As he leans closer towards you, a soft moan falls from his parted lips while his face tints to a deeper shade of red.

Your eyes widened slightly, pausing to replay the sound in your head.

You wanted to hear it again.

And again.

And again.

"...need more...." He whispers, nuzzling his face against your hands as they darted up to caress his cheeks. "You...feel so good..."

His words lit your body on fire.

Blood rushes to your face and to your core, causing you to rub your thighs together as you scooted closer towards his pool.

You had an idea what was happening to him.

You've heard about it long ago, that Lemurians go through something like being in heat, just once every year, when the tide is low, and it flows in opposite direction.

As an effect of hormonal changes, Lemurians become extremely sensitive and their sexual desires intensify. Their body temperature drastically increases, only settling until the day is over and the tide returns to its normal flow.

It's also when the Lemurians are at their weakest.

That's why Rafayel hasn't left his pool, or chamber, as he likes to call it. All day, he'd been in the temple, hiding himself even from you. He said it's dangerous for you to be close to him, but you know he won't hurt you in anyway.

You are the Sea God'd bride.

You want to help him.

You want to offer yourself to him.

"Rafayel." You brushed some strands of his hair away from his face. "I want to feel you — more of you."

His eyes snaps wide open, looking at you with shock. "Do you know what you're saying?! I could hurt you if I lose control — "

You leaned forward to kiss his forehead, and he immediatelt softens up. "You won't hurt me. I trust you, Rafayel. Will you let me make you feel good?"

A noise that was a mixture of a moan and a whine slips out of his mouth, and it strengthens your need to run your hands all over him.

"Please... make me feel good, my beloved bride."

You didn't hesitate to jump in the pool with him.

You kept your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself afloat, though there was no need for it as Rafayel's arms wrapped around your waist to pull your body against his.

The water is cold, and his body is hot. Although your body is soaked, all of your senses are focused on him.

You only feel him.

As you placed your lips on his, Rafayel immediately deepens the kiss, with his hands gently caressing your body.

You can feel his desperation, but also his self-control. His touches are light, as if to make sure he doesn't accidentally hurt you.

But you wanted him to let loose and stop restraining himself — you want him to give in to his body's urges, just like how you're giving in to your own desires.

You pressed yourself harder against him and let your right hand go further down below his hips.

The scales of his tail shifted instantly, almost like they're softening up at your touch.

Rafayel brushes himself against your legs, and then you feel something hard pressing on your right thigh.

It wasn't visible before, but after his scales shifted, you now feel his cock brushing against your thighs as Rafayel slowly rocks his hips against your figure, chasing after your warmth.

He lets out a sigh of pleasure as you grinded yourself against him, your clothed core briefly touching the tip of his cock.

He continues to rut into you, causing the water to dance all around your entangled figures. His soft cries echo throughout the empty, quiet temple, and the scales on his face glistens under the moonlight.

Your right hand slides farther down his hips, and Rafayel closes his eyes and grunts as your fingers find his cock, feeling his entire length twitching with the urge to be buried in you.

Your insides clenched with arousal. Your mouth waters before you softly sank your teeth on his neck, then you sucked on his skin to leave your mark on the Sea God.

Rafayel finds it impossible to stop himself from thrusting into your hand, hips eratically stuttering on its own as he craves for friction.

You feel so good, and he needed more.

He needed to feel you.

All of you.

"Wait..."

It takes all his strength to tear himself away from you, even if it's just for a brief moment.

"What's wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He smiles and kisses your lips to interrupt your concern.

Rafayel pulled your body across his chest and held you bridal-style before leaving the pool. His tail turns into human legs, and he brings you over by the window, setting you down on the purple chaise lounge chair that you're often resting on when chatting with him.

"I want to take you like this. Here." He wants you to feel comfortable and for the both of you to be able to move without any restraint.

As he hovers on top of you, you take a moment to appreciate his beauty.

His long hair sways at the side of his face as the cold sea breeze moves through the windows, his eyes glowing brightly, pupils dilated as he gazes down at you, and the markings on his face shimmering to match his glowering expression.

Now more than ever, you find yourself wondering how lucky you are to be the Sea God's bride. To be the one that gets to see him like this, the one to feel him like this... are you truly worthy?

But with the way he's looking at you right now, he makes you feel as if you are special.

You feel as if this is where you belong.

With him.

"Rafayel..."

You called out his name, yet you're lost for the right words that could properly express your feelings.

And so, you pulled him down and kissed him again, letting your actions give the message.

You feel him smile against your lips. His legs settles between yours, and his hips presses down against your thighs, his hardened cock brushing against your cunt.

A soft groan from your mouth gets muffled by Rafayel's deep, wet kisses while he continues to rub his cock against you. You spread your legs wider for him, and his right hand dives to your underwear to feel your folds, right before inserting two fingers inside you.

You arched your back as he moves his hand in and out of you.

"W—wait, I'm supposed to be the one that's m—making you feel good..."

Rafayel lets out a low chuckle, eyes refusing to blink and look away from your face even for a second. You look so pretty, falling apart underneath him, just from his fingers.

"You've no idea how you're making me feel right now, just seeing you like this... his lips makes contact with your neck before his teeth nips your skin. "Forgive me if I get a little rough..." he moves lower to your chest to leave a mark identical to the one above. "The sweet sounds you're making ...it's driving me crazy..."

Then, you feel him going inside you.

Slowly.

Carefully.

The tip of his cock traces your folds before easing into your core, inch by inch, throbbing impatiently to get to the deepest part of you.

Rafayel gasps loudly as you squeeze him tight.

You could've made him come then and there, had it not for him using up his entire strength to stay still.

But you're making it so difficult.

You're so warm and so tight.

You're taking him in so well. He wanted to move, to take you hard and fast.

But he doesn't.

Not yet.

He wants to take his time.

You've graciously offered him yourself, and he wants to savor this gift for as long as he could.

And so, he starts off slowly.

Rafayel slides in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace, drilling into his memory how you feel, and how you look when his cock his buried deep inside you.

While his hands wander throughout your body, he busies his mouth with your breasts, making sure to appreciate every inch of you.

He wants you to know how precious you are to him, despite having only shared a little bit of time together in this lifetime.

Though as much as he wanted to remember your lives together from his past, particularly to the time when you've forged your covenant, what matters is here and now.

Rafayel peppers soft kisses all over your face before moving a little faster and harder, forcing sharp groans out of his mouth and yours.

You lightly grazed your fingernails down on his back as you pulled him even closer to you, wanting to feel his heartbeat against your own.

You then tugged on his hair on the back of his head, and Rafayel's breath becomes ragged.

His eyes roll back with pleasure right before he pulls out of you and suddenly your hips and thighs have been painted white. Rafayel's cock twitches as ropes of cum spills onto your skin, loud moans ringing against your ears and making you clench yet again.

As Rafayel takes a moment to catch his breath, you pulled on his arm and flipped him over so that he's now lying down on the lounge chair.

You settled on his lap and grinded your pussy against his sensitive cock, still hard and throbbing from his orgasm.

You ran a hand across his chest to feel his skin, still burning up like a stubborn fever.

"I promised to make you feel better, didn't I?" Rafayel breathes out slowly, intertwining your fingers together. "Let me take care of you, Rafayel."

Unlike him that started off slowly, you began at a quickened pace at the very moment his cock is swallowed by your hole.

He's unable to hold back his moans as he watches you bounce on his thighs, drops of sweat clinging on your forehead while your parted lips echoes the noises that he'd been making.

The Sea God temple is filled with the lewd noises emitted by your bodies, barely silenced by the waves of the sea right outside.

His chest heaves up and down, breath hitching as his body drowns with ecstasy. His hips moved on its own and started to thrust upwards at the same time your weight presses down onto him.

It's too much, but still, not enough.

Rafayel sat up and rested his hands on your ass, encouraging you to take him harder and faster.

The chair screeched at your movement, though neither of you could care to notice as you chased your high together.

Your insides tightens up and your hips stutter. You warned him that you'll be reaching your climax soon, but Rafayel couldn't find it in him to slow down. And so, he ends up covered with your own juices as you squirted all over his cock.

Still, he doesn't stop.

His heart is racing even faster, and his mind feels as if it had gone blank.

No thoughts.

Just you.

After coming for the second time, he doesn't give himself time to recover before picking you up and pinning you against the cold wall of the temple. With his cock still leaking, Rafayel pounds into you again and again and again.

He only paused for a second to let you catch your breath, seeing you gasping for air. His eyes flickers outside of the window, directing his gaze to the waves of the sea.

"The tide is still low, my beloved."

It wasn't an innocent observation, but a fair warning.

For as long as the moon is out and the tide is flowing like this, his body won't calm down. It'll claim what it wants, for as long as he wants, however he wants.

"I'm all yours, Rafayel."

[0gl1tch0]

-AWAY! Fuck you. We’re done! And honestly this is a long time coming. Things have been shit, you have been shit, for so long. Looking back I don’t know why I put up with it. Momentum? But this, this is on another level. You got my family involved. Don’t fucking talk to my family! We’re done. Fuck you. This is goodb-

I only know one spell.

Forget. Forget. Forget.

I can use it on one person, and have them forget forget forget one thing, at one time. Use it on someone else and they remember, immediately.

It’s not the most useful spell. It can’t cover up anything with two witnesses. It can’t hide any memory indefinitely.

And I can’t use it on myself.

I would.

It’s hard to pick the one thing I’d use it for.

YOU wouldn’t believe it. I just got pulled over and I’m like super high. And I’m sooo nervous. Like this pig is definitely knows. But he goes back to his car to run my plates and he must have gotten a car or something, cause he just flipped on his lights and drove AW-

Susan is at the library on a Tuesday. She’s supposed to be at work, but she forgot. So she went to the library like she usually does on her days off. It helps her study. She’s earning an online degree in public health. She’s a good person trying to help. Plus, she doesn’t want to be a security guard forever.

But she does want to be a security guard for now. And the second I make someone else forget forget forget something, she’ll remember. She’ll be running back to work confused with no excuse. I suppose if I did it to her enough then the government would fire her. But I need her to keep her job, at least for now.

So I change what I’m forcing her to forget forget forget. She grabs her purse and starts sprinting out the door to her car. She doesn’t remember to log out of library computer though. I don’t let her.

-N we talk? If you’re busy it’s okay but this is important. Last night I was hanging out with one of the guys from work. I thought he was sweet, and we were having fun, I dunno. I was just so drunk. It started to rain and I was cold and I wanted to go inside but I just passed out on the ground. And he was laughing. He just left me there. My memory gets hazy after that. YOU-

It’s a funny thing, memories. Every time you think about them, they change. They aren’t records you play and put back on the shelf. They’re stories you tell yourself, over and over, memorizing the newest telling each time. Your biggest regrets? Those terrible things seared into your brain? You aren’t reliving a particularly bad moment. No, you spend the rest of your life telling yourself the same sad story, over and over, combing through the details looking for any little thing you could have changed. But it doesn’t matter. The ending is always the same.

Even if your mind slowly massages your recollection, reality brings back the pain you can’t forget forget forget.

Take Susan, for instance. She shot and killed someone. And she’s been retelling herself those every day since. I can see it, in the version history of the report of the incident on her computer. Certain truths become fuzzier. Certain falsehoods more distinct. Her memories of the biggest regrets of her life smoothing like wood, as she tries to sand away a chaotic hectic and jagged piece of her foundation into something she doesn’t hurt herself to touch. But the guy is still dead. The smooth shaft of wood still ends in the point of a spear. And she’s stabbing herself on it. Trying to forget forget forget.

Her boss says she’s a hero. The mayor is going to meet with her. Only she’s not going to remember the meeting.

I only have a few minutes before she runs back into the library and signs out of the computer. I won’t need half that to clean up after myself. I’m not the kind of person whose presence leaves evidence. Not anymore.

-ught about it. For a long time. And I. I dunno. I like you a lot. It’s just. I mean how would that even work? Maybe we should just be friends. CAN-

Getting into the restaurant will not be easy. I can’t sit down at a table without a reservation. Even if I cast a spell on the hostess, that won’t change whether or not the tables are full. And if I get a table, I have to order something. This isn’t a place regular folks can afford, and I can’t even scrap together regular people money. Maybe it slips the waiters mind and he doesn’t bill me, but I’m leaving here with my spell on the Mayor. I just need to get close to him for a moment.

One moment. That’s all any of us ever need. That’s all any of us ever get. We are all just a collection of what we did in a small list of moments.

-HIS is a really bad time. I’m sorry, my dog just died. I really can’t think about anything else right now. I don’t have the THOU-

Human beings, ultimately, are just a pile of chemicals. Big meaty lumps controlled by electrical signals powered by a series of gasses and fluids, flowing at a steady rate each and every second. We are a teetering balancing act of chemical input and chemical output, existing as a filter in a river of time while reality sifts through us.

It’s not the balance that makes us. It’s the imbalances. It’s the different needs and cravings at different levels. What does it mean when the introduction of someone’s scent increases our endorphin levels? How do we shape our lives if the thing we’re missing comes in a pill that the government can take away? What does it say about us if the thing we’re missing doesn’t come in any pill at all? What would you do to try and find balance? How good does something have to feel to be good enough?

We are all just piles of chemicals trying to bond.

And I’m standing in the bathroom because I let one chemical spill out.

I cut myself on my arm, walked into the front room, and asked if I could clean myself up. Of course security would let me through. I didn’t even need to use a spell to be left alone in here, although I’d planned to. Most people are inherently good, most of the time. And I erase a little bit of people to get what I want. What does that make me?

AND he’s dead. Oh my god he’s dead. I just found his obituary. It says he killed himself, Jesus Christ killed himself months ago. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me, the best part of me. I think we were like… platonic soulmates. And he’s been gone. Just gone. For months! I can’t believe it. Please say something. I can’t take TH-

I’m not going to kill the mayor.

I could, maybe, I think. For a few minutes have him forget forget forget to breathe.

But I don’t want anyone to die. I just want there to be a little less hate. I want Susan not to have hated anyone who scared her while she was working alone. I want Susan not to hate herself for what she was expected to do while afraid. I want Susan not to hate herself for what she does now, just to get one evening where she feels good.

I want the first world to function less punitively. I want the world to understand decisions were little bursts of energy through couple soupy wrinkles of meat, and sometimes that energy misfires. Sometimes that meat is wrong.

But we don’t do that. We see something wrong and we hate it. We hate it like that will make it right. If the force of our disdain and the extremity of our punishment are extreme enough we can beat the things we hate into submission. We treat the human psyche like its only remedy is ballistic repair. Hit it to make it start working. If the signal is still fuzzy hit it again.

We hit each other and ourselves so hard and so often that the only remaining ways to cope are the exact things we hated in the first place. We hate the poor so we take their homes away. We hate the fat so we force them to stay inside where we cannot see them. We call addicts criminals and brand them for life, barring them from any alternatives that might feel good.

And the mayor? He needs people to vote for him. So he has to be the paragon of our hate. He has to embody it, to take that nebulous hate and through his pen channel it into legislation. In front of dozens of cameras he’s going to sign a bill that condemns those of us hurting the most to even worse cells at even worse prisons for even longer sentences. And he’ll do it with a smile, in front of dozens of cameras, shaking the thankful public’s hand.

But it won’t do anything. You can’t unring a bell. You can’t untake a pill or unpull a trigger. Susan won’t bring that boy back when she rethinks the story, when she takes pain killers, when she gets fired for having them or when she spends time in a cell. He will always be dead.

So I won’t let the Mayor do this. For three days the bill will sit in a shelf in his desk that I command him to forget forget forget.

That’s the best I can do. I just stop things from getting worse. I don’t know how to make things better. That’s not my part of the phrase.

No I think we could move in together. What’s the worst that happens, I have a shitty year there? I’m going to have a shitty year here. Besides, you’re my best friend. If we get into a fight I’m sure we can’t forgive and-

You only know one spell, and it isn’t even a high-level spell. But between its versatility and your creativity, you’ve still made a name for yourself.

[bunsim]

Did you know you can modify your game files to start with custom lots in the lot bin? Did you know you can add your favorite lots to the program files and you'll never have to import them ever again? I sure didn't. Here's how.

Part 1: Freshen Up That Lot!

Locate the lot you want to freshen up. If it's in your Documents > LotCatalog, it'll be named something like cx_00000001.package. [Hint: you can use CleanInstaller to browse your LotCatalog with pictures!]

Clean it up using LotCleaner and LotCompressor (and Magic Wand, if you want). Here's a tutorial. Do NOT skip this step, or you risk contaminating future save files with old sim references.

Make it a spiffy new picture. Personally I like to lump my similar lots together with a similar title/street name. And I color-code using CatherineTCJD's color-coding format. If you want to match me, you can download my template psd here.

Open your lot in Simpe and replace that old preview. Click 'jpg/png image'. Right click the property > Replace. Change file format to 'all files' to see your image. Click either 'yes' or 'no' on the 'resource changed' popup (it doesn't matter--one updates the image preview immediately, the other doesn't). Click save.

Part 2: Relocation Time! *MAIN LOT BIN*

You cleaned up your lot, right? No sim references left? Don't skip this step or you risk messing up future hoods. Clean up that lot!

Select your lot file and rename it to the cx_00000000.package format. You can use any numbers but it must be in that format and have 8 digits. The number denotes the order so get creative with your categories. (ex: lots cx_00000100-150: modern houses / cx_00000200-250: beachy, etc.). You can use any bulk renamer to rename files in order without having to manually number each one.

Pick an Expansion for your files. Mansion and Garden comes first in the lot bin, Base Game last. The expansion you select will denote the location of your lots within the catalog. The file location is the same in every expansion, so you can even spread your lots around for max organization.

Move your cx_#.package lot file to Program Files > The Sims 2 > [expansion of your choice (ex. Nightlife)] > TSData > Res > UserData > LotCatalog. You will already see some files here. These are the maxis lots that fill the lot bin every new game. You can delete them if you really want to, or just change the extension to something else to make them go away. (Catherine has a backup if you need them back.)

Done! Now your custom lots will prefill the lot bin every time you generate a new The Sims 2 save file in your documents!

This will not pre-fill existing games. If you want to put your new clean lots into your current file, rename your main The Sims 2 save file (in your Documents folder) something else. Launch Sims 2 so it regenerates a clean copy. Create a new Hood, let the game load, and check out the LotCatalog. It will be now filled with your brand-new lots. Copy them over to your main file's LotCatalog. [Check your main LotCatalog in game to make sure you won't be deleting/overwriting anything you want to keep (make a backup just in case!) Check it again with CleanInstaller. Do not delete/overwrite occupied homes! And delete your old and crusty lots in game if you want to be extra safe.]

Part 3: Relocation Time... 2! *SPECIALTY LOT BIN*

You cleaned up your lot, right? No sim references left? Don't skip this step or you risk messing up future hoods. Clean up that lot.

We will now populate the second tab in the lot catalog, the Specialty lot bin that holds Hotels and Apartments. You can put whatever you want in here; it doesn't have to be hotels or apts. You can move lots from the main catalog to this one, if you want. These lots do not appear in the LotCatalog of your main save file, in case you try to look for them there later. They only exist in the program files.

Rename your files. Unlike the previous lots, you can name these lots anything you want, as long as it ends in _Permanent.package. stinky_Permanent.package is perfectly fine. Name it something descriptive.

Pick an Expansion for your files. You can put them in any Expansion folder, but personally I keep my apts in Apartment Life to stay organized.

Move your files. Take your stinky_Permanent.package and move it to Program Files > The Sims 2 > [expansion of your choice (ex. Nightlife)] > TSData > Res > LotTemplates. You'll see some other files here already. These are blank lots and hotels/apts (if you're in Apt Life or Bon Voyage). Don't touch the blank lots, but you can remove the hotels/apartments if you don't want them. (You can move them to the main lot bin by renaming the files to the cx_# format and moving to the location in part 2). You can open them in SimPe to check what they are, but Catherine has a visual list here.

Done! These lots will appear in the Specialty lot bin every time you boot up the game, even in your current saved game.

Have fun and enjoy organizing!

[PS: did you know you can not only delete or relocate existing bin lots, but replace them with better, and cooler lots by simply overwriting the existing cx_0000000 files in your UserData > LotCatalog folders? Catherine has a visual guide which file is which, if you want to reinvent them all. The lot bin is your oyster!]

credits: CatherineTCJD for the Lot Refresh project that made me learn this. Bluerubberbear for the majority of the lots in my thumbnails and the lot in the psd file. Plumbtales for the other lots in the thumbnails and for the beautiful lot makeovers that I replaced maxis's community lots with.

[waitingandwishing]

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Word Count: 2.5k "𝖫𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌" ━━ Ever since you were a kid, all you wanted was to be cared for.

“‘Cause I see your real face, it’s as ugly as sin. Gonna put you in your place cause you’re rotten within.” You sang, practicing the choreography easily. “When your patterns start to show it makes the hatred wanna grow out of my veins…”

Your voice trailed off and you sighed, collapsing on your bed with a huff. You rolled up your sleeve to reveal the spreading marks, glowing and pulsing each time you grazed your other hand on them. For almost your whole life, they’ve never spread this fast before.

Jinu said that his shame was what caused them to spread… What shame did you have then? The shame of these markings? But if so, then Rumi’s would’ve spread much faster than before right? You huffed. You couldn’t believe you were about to do something this stupid but… Maybe you should visit a mudang?

You groaned. Why were you now turning to spiritual stuff? You laid on your back, thinking for a moment before deciding you’d go to sleep early instead. You probably needed a good night’s rest anyways… Just as you walked over to your lamp to turn it off, a knock on your window interrupted.

You turned to see the large blue cat from before and the bird perched on top of its head. You frowned, but opened the door and entered your balcony. “Hello?” You greeted. The tiger stared at you before pushing into your hand as if telling you to pet him like before. “Where’s your owner?”

The tiger purred before biting your arm. It wasn’t a harsh bite, more delicate than anything as it seemed as though it was trying to guide you somewhere. “Ooookay…” You cringed at the horrible sensation of it’s drool coating your sweatshirt but didn’t pull away.

You followed the tiger into a portal before ending up on the street instead. You shivered at the cold wave of existential dread that came when you entered, but brushed it off and pulled your hood over your head instead. You couldn’t exactly be seen being hauled away by a blue tiger in public right?

“Isn’t it odd how we keep meeting like this?”

You turned to see Jinu with his hands in his pockets. You smiled slightly, the tiger now letting go of your arm. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sent your cat to come get me.” 

Jinu shrugged, feigning an innocent expression. You walked forward, now enshrouded in the darkness of the alleyway. “I actually have something to ask you, surprisingly.” Your gaze was fixated on the ground, not daring to look up at Jinu. 

“My markings…” You rolled your sleeve up to reveal the spread of them going across your arms. “Why are they growing? You said that yours grew from shame but… I haven’t felt any shame.”

Jinu stared at them, his finger twitching slightly to reach out, before he curled his hand into a fist instead. “It is… Hard to identify shame.” He finalized.

You looked up at him, blinking, before letting out a chuckle. “That’s hardly an explanation. Nor does it give me any comfort.”

“Ah, I’m… Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You shook your head, “After we seal the Honmoon…” Your voice trailed off, eyes glancing at Jinu before clearing your throat. “Rumi’s and my markings will be… Fixed.”

“How did you get your markings?” Jinu asked.

“Ah… I, uh, don’t know actually. It’s just something I’ve been born with like Rumi.” You looked at them, furrowing your brows at the noticeably drastic changes, “We’re not related though so…”

“And you don’t hear Gwi-Ma in your head either?” Jinu asked. You shook your head, your eyes focusing on the cat now rubbing on your legs.

“No…” You muttered.

“Then you’re lucky too.” Jinu said. He stayed quiet for a while, tilting his head up to look at the purple colored sky.

Did negative thoughts count as Gwi-Ma speaking in your head? No, you didn’t think so. Everyone had negative thoughts sometimes, even demons have them replaced by Gwi-Ma’s manipulation. If so… Were they really that different from humans?

“Maybe… You can be lucky too.” You thought out loud. Jinu turned to you with a confused look on his face. “When the Honmoon is sealed, all demons will be banished to be with Gwi-Ma for all eternity. You can be on our side. You’ll be rid of the markings.”

Jinu paused, opening his mouth to speak before you added. “It doesn’t mean you’ll live without your memories of misery. At least, I think so.” You mused before finally looking at Jinu with a smile, “Jinu, if you help us win the Idol awards, you can stop hearing Gwi-Ma’s voice inside your head…”

“What makes you think the Honmoon can save a guy like me?” Jinu asked, eyes carefully tracing the street in consideration.

“You tried to help your family. We all…” Your voice trailed off, masking the wince of a sudden headache with clearing your throat. “We all make mistakes.”

Jinu scoffed, “It’s not that simple.”

“It’s never that simple.” You challenged, “If the Honmoon can… Help me and Rumi with our mistakes, it surely can with yours.”

There’s a softening. A stillness in his eyes as he looks at you. As if his entire world has just settled into place. His pupils dilated just slightly, eyes warm with a kind of quiet awe, and for a moment, time seems to hush around the two of you. It’s not dramatic, not always flashy. It’s subtle. Sacred.

Familiar, even to you. You feel as if you’d done this before, that you’d felt this way before. You cleared your throat, “You always stare at someone like that?” You asked.

Jinu blinked out of his trance, turning away to the blue tiger sitting in front of him with a tilted head and crossed eyes. “It’s just… You remind me a lot like someone I knew.” Jinu said. You didn’t ask anything else because it seemed like he didn’t want to elaborate any further, but it warmed your heart either way.

His words carried the weight of a thousand unspoken memories and the quiet certainty of realization and recognition. It’s the look that said… You mattered. Not because of what you’ve done or said, but simply because you’re… You.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” You smiled, now turning away, “I’ve gotta change out of this wet sweatshirt before I start getting overstimulated so… Just think about my offer?” You turned your face to the side, looking at Jinu in the corner of your eye, “Give me a message if you accept it, Jinu.”

- - -

You explained the plan to Rumi, to which she agreed with. Jinu would help you win the Idol Awards, and you would seal the Honmoon when it was over. “Should we tell the others?” you asked, walking backstage to get ready for the rehearsal.

“... No.” Rumi decided, “They… They won’t understand.”

“Are those Celine’s words or yours?” you teased, trying to lighten the moment—but she didn’t smile. Not even a flicker. Your grin faltered. You stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder with quiet concern. “Rumi…”

“These lyrics are so… Wrong.” She said, her arms crossing tightly over her chest like she was bracing for something colder than judgment.

“Yeah…” you muttered, wincing as a dull throb pulsed through your skull. “Pretty hypocritical of us, I get it.”

“It’s fine. I think we can get through this.” Rumi nodded, but her voice didn’t carry much weight. You hesitated, studying her a moment longer before nodding back and stepping onstage beside her.

The music started, echoing faintly across the space as the four of you moved into formation. “Time to put you in your place ‘cause you’re rotten within.” You sang, turning with the practiced motion.

“When your patterns start to show it makes the hatred wanna grow out of my…” Rumi’s voice trailed off. She stopped moving entirely, her face blank and filled with hesitation.

“What’s going on? Why are we stopping?” Mira asked, her tone sharp with confusion.

“It’s just… These lyrics are throwing me off.” Rumi muttered, “I don’t think they’re right just yet.”

“Seriously? Now?” Mira frowned, eyebrows pulling in.

“No, it’s fine.” Zoey laughed weakly, already flipping through her lyric journal. “It’s the second verse, right? Uh, how about… ‘When the patterns start to show, the whole world will finally know that you’re depraved’?”

You shook your head at the same time Rumi did. The movement was subtle, but Mira noticed. Her frown deepened as her gaze shifted toward you, questioning. You couldn’t meet her eyes. You looked down at the scuffed black floor instead.

“Um, ‘My sword will happily show you to your grave?’” Zoey offered again. Rumi shook her head, “‘You will be pummeled till no remains—’”

“No, Zoey, it’s just—It’s the whole song.” Rumi sighed, weariness etched into her voice.

“Oh… Okay, great!” Zoey said, trying to laugh it off, but her voice went quiet as her eyes fell to the notebook in her hands. “Well, then, I might as well tear these all up!”

“Rumi, we don’t have time to change the lyrics even if we wanted to.” Mira said, stepping closer now. “The Idol Awards are tomorrow.”

“Well, I… I don’t think I can sing this song.” Rumi argued, her voice small but firm.

“It’s… So hateful.” You added.

The tension between the four of you was like static before Bobby stepped in, his timing almost too perfect. “Hey, girls, just wanted to bring some last-minute pick-me-ups…” He smiled, though it was clearly strained, placing the bag down. “I know things have been really stressful lately and you’ve been working so hard on the Idol routine.”

Then, a sharp pink pulse hit you, like static in your bones. The headache returned in full force, blooming behind your eyes like fire. You winced, though hit it well. You turned and ran. There wasn’t time for more arguing, you had civilians to save.

- - -

“Seriously, what is your problem?” Mira asked as she sliced through a demon's body.

Mira’s words ring in your ears like an accusation you can’t deflect. You know you’re hiding something but it isn’t out of malice. It’s out of fear. Out of uncertainty. Out of not knowing if you’re right or wrong. The Honmoon. The song. The dreams. The missing people. The silence where there should be cheering fans.

“I told you, the song, it’s-”

“I’m not talking about the song, I’m talking about you and Y/N!” Mira said. You turned your head, looking at her before pulling a demon closer to you and stabbing it with your dagger. “Why are you both questioning everything that we stand for when we’re so close to sealing the Honmoon? What are you two not telling us?!”

“I-I-”

“What are you hiding from us?” Mira asked, her hand on Rumi’s shoulder just as the purple haired girl was about to pull away.

“Not everything is about your insecurities, Mira!” Rumi yelled. You widened your eyes, looking between the two of them with a pained expression.

You stood between them, looking at both their expressions. Zoey stood next to Mira with widened eyes. The whole tunnel that shrouded you with darkness suddenly blew past you, the skyline of the city and mountains coming into view.

“Mira, I-I didn’t mean…”

“Would you two stop fighting each other and look?!” Zoey yelled, pointing to the huge hole coming from the upper bridge. 

“Why is it so big…?” You muttered. Multiple hungry demons piled on top of each other, ready to ravage any human souls on the train.

“If you’re with us, prove it.” Mira challenged, looking at you and Rumi before focusing her attention back on the demons.

You got into position before lunging with the four of them at the herd of demons. Your whip cracked like gunfire, splitting the air above the demon's heads. One lunged forward, to which you moved your shoulder forward, elbow locked and fingers snapping the whip at the end. The tip wrapped around its wrist, pulling it forward before plunging your dagger into its chest.

“It’s a take down, Imma take you out and it ain’t gonna stop!”

The second demon charged, causing you to spin left and let the tail of your whip loop low around its leg. You pulled hard, dropping its balance before throwing the dagger into its chest and disintegrating it.

You leaned in, whip in a cross-body strike. The tip lashed across another demon's face, causing it to screech before bursting into a pink dust.

“Jung shin eul noh koh null jib balb goh! Kal eul seh gyuh nuah! You’ll be begging and crying, all of you dying. Never miss my shot!”

When another lunged again, you dropped the whip and caught behind the ankle. In a wrapping move, the tail tangled briefly. You yanked hard, turning your hips and unbalancing it successfully. You threw your dagger again.

“I don’t think you’re ready for the takedown! A demon with no feelings don’t deserve to live… It’s so obvious…”

You widened your eyes, watching as another demon came swinging with a club at Rumi, who had suddenly paused their demon massacre. “RUMI!” You shouted, latching your whip onto her waist and pulling her forward. The momentum caused you to fly forward, sending a kick to the larger demon's head.

The lurking demons overran the plane. You knelt down, helping Rumi up as Mira finished off the last of the demons with a shockwave of blue energy. 

Mira turned to look at you and Rumi, disappointment evident in her eyes, but just as she was about to say something, you spoke up first. “The passengers!” You realized. 

You entered the train, searching through the seats to find at least one person, only to be disappointed at the sight of the missing people. What were you going to do now? 

The train stopped at its nearest station, the four of you walking out with saddened looks on your faces. “Whatever you think about the song, it doesn’t matter right now.” Mira spoke up, her voice breaking slightly. “Everything is at stake and we just need to get through this together.” She walked away, not daring to meet yours or Rumi's gaze.

“You know I’m always on your side but… It’s really hard to understand this time.” Zoey muttered, turning to look at the two of you, “We can’t win this without your voices…” She finalized before walking away with Mira.

You and Rumi exchanged glances. Something’s wrong. And not just with the mission. With you. With Rumi. With the entire foundation everything’s been built on.

You look at her, your partner in this, and the weight in her eyes mirrors your own. The kind of weight you carry when truth is clawing at the inside of your chest but you’re afraid to open your mouth and let it out. Because if you speak it aloud, it might undo everything you’ve fought for…

Zoey says they need your voice. Mira says you’re keeping secrets. She’s not wrong. But they don’t see what you see. They don’t hear what you hear in that song. They don’t feel how wrong it’s beginning to sound.

taglist: @the-bookish-artist @nisarelle @iviorienne @justanindiangirl12 @t4naiis @usuallyunlikelyfox@livsh20@venommie@dprweganggang03@satansdaughter123 @yumekono @arkcitrus

[magicalmatcha]

now playing ♪ i want you by mitski

"you're coming back, and it's the end of the world,

we're starting over and i love you darling"

cw: the usual, bad writing

Her proposal shocked him. Blue Salt was a pretentious restaurant for equally pretentious people. A place where everything was plated like art and the waiters judged you with their eyes alone.

And that’s what Yn wasn’t. Pretentious.

She never liked places like this. Thought they were a waste of money and time, said she didn’t trust food that came in “drizzles” instead of servings.

But there she was.

Sitting alone at a window table in her pale blue nurses scrubs, her badge flipped backwards, her hair in that style that pushed it out of her face that she often wore to clinicals. A cup of tea sat in front of her, untouched. She looked exhausted. Not fragile, but stretched thin. The kind of tired that lives in the bones, not the skin.

She didn’t look up when he approached. Just stared out the window like she hadn’t changed locations in the past ten minutes. Like maybe if she kept still enough, he wouldn’t come at all.

Megumi hesitated. Then pulled the chair out across from her.

“You look good,” he said carefully.

She didn’t flinch. Just blinked, slowly. “I don’t.”

“No, you do. You look, grown.”

That earned him a scoff. “Right. Like a real adult. A functioning member of society.”

He swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She finally met his eyes. And god, that was worse.

Because they were the same eyes that used to look at him like he hung the moon, only now they looked through him. Like he was a passing thought she wasn’t sure deserved remembering.

“I figured you’d ghost the whole thing,” she said, voice flat. “Didn’t seem like your style to show up for hard conversations.”

“Yn.” His voice was quiet. “You could’ve told me.”

“And you could’ve come back when you said you would.”

The waiter came over, annoyingly chipper, like he hadn’t walked into the middle of a potential emotional crime scene.

“Are we ready to order?”

Megumi didn’t look up. “Just a coffee. Black.” He needed the waiter gone more than he needed caffeine.

Yn, however, leaned back in her chair with the faintest flicker of a smile. Not a happy one, no, it was something far more dangerous.

“I’ll have the saffron scallops with the truffle foam,” she said sweetly, handing the menu back. “And the house rosé. The one that’s imported.”

The waiter beamed. “Excellent choice."

As he walked away, Megumi turned to her slowly, eyebrows raised. “You hate scallops."

“I hate a lot of things,” she replied, still looking out the window. “But I love a free meal.”

Megumi gave a dry laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That why you picked Blue Salt?”

“I picked Blue Salt,” she said, finally meeting his gaze, “because I wanted to feel expensive. Because I knew you’d pay. And because this was never going to be a comfortable conversation, so I figured I might as well be uncomfortable with high thread count napkins.”

He looked at her like she was a stranger. And maybe she was. Five years was enough time for a person to become unrecognizable.

“Do you really hate me that much?” he asked quietly.

“No,” she said, just as quiet. “I don’t hate you. I just don’t know what version of you I’m talking to.”

He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand.

“You want answers? Fine. But don’t expect me to make this easy. You left me with nothing. I gave birth to a person. I had to hold her and name her and raise her, and you—” she laughed, but it was sharp, tired, nothing like humor “you were busy posting Spotify links on your story.”

Megumi’s jaw clenched. “That’s not fair.”

“No. It’s not. But neither was any of it.”

She picked up her water, taking a slow sip, letting the weight of her words settle. Letting him sit in the silence.

“You know I was embarrassed at one point?” she said, almost idly.

Megumi’s head snapped up. “Embarrassed?”

“You hadn’t blown up yet. You weren’t even buzzing.” Her tone was calm, but each word landed like a slap. “What were you averaging back then? 1,000 streams per song? Maybe less? And it didn't seem like you were getting anymore popular. I sat in that apartment with a newborn on my chest, thinking, Damn. I got left for a career at that could have easily been left on SoundCloud .”

She laughed then, low and bitter. “I was the girl who got abandoned for a dream that couldn’t even buy studio time.”

Megumi swallowed hard. He didn’t try to interrupt.

She tilted her head. “And then 2023 rolled around and you had your good year. Unfortunately. So the shame didn’t get to last long.”

There was no venom in her voice, just exhaustion. Like she’d already lived this moment a thousand times in her head and now that it was here, it felt smaller than it should.

He didn’t know what to say. But it didn’t matter. She wasn’t done.

“I struggled, you know?” Her voice was steadier than she expected it to be. “If anyone shouldn’t have been a mother, it was me. The teenage addict whose mom died choking on her own bitterness, and whose dad—” her voice faltered.

She let the silence carry that weight for a beat before continuing, softer now.

“How was that girl ever going to raise a kid? By herself no less. Was she even stable enough to take care of herself? Everyone thought I’d fall apart. Hell, I thought I would too. But then I looked at her, and I figured… if I could get sober, I could do anything. If I could claw my way out of that spiral, I could prove everyone wrong.”

Megumi stared at her, guilt blooming in his chest like something rotting.

“I’m not asking for a medal,” Yn said, her eyes fixed on the condensation sliding down her glass. “I’m not telling you this so you’ll cry into your coffee and call yourself the villain. I’m just saying, I built something from the mess you left behind. And it wasn’t easy.”

She finally looked at him.

“I didn’t need you then. And I sure as hell don’t need you now.”

Megumi swallowed hard. Her words hit with the weight of truth, not laced with venom, not performed for pity. Just honest. Just her.

But he wasn’t ready to let it end like that.

“I know you didn’t need me,” he said, his voice low. “You were always stronger than you gave yourself credit for. I just wish I hadn’t realized that so late.”

Yn gave a dry smile. “Yeah. You and everybody else.”

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he added, almost to himself. “Even when things got good. Especially then.”

She scoffed, pushing her plate slightly away. “You know what’s funny? There was a time I needed to hear that. I would’ve given anything for you to say that to me. I would’ve collapsed into you.” She looked up again, and this time her eyes were clear. Detached. “But that version of me doesn’t exist anymore.”

Megumi gulped. “Does she— what does she think about her fath— about me?”

Yn shrugged, lifting her glass. “She thinks fathers are a false societal construct designed to keep women from filing taxes as single heads of household.”

Megumi’s eyes widened. “Why would she think that?”

“Because that’s what I told her.” Yn quirked an eyebrow, tone dry.

His jaw dropped slightly, and she could almost see him trying to process whether she was joking.

“She’s four, Fushiguro,” Yn added. “She also thinks her penguin plush has a credit score and that Maki invented pop tarts. Love her but she's gullible as hell."

He let out a disbelieving huff. “So she doesn’t… ask about me?”

“Not really,” Yn said, voice cooler now. “Kids don’t miss what they’ve never been given. I never sat her down and said, ‘Here’s what’s missing from your life.’ Why would I? She’s surrounded by people who love her. That’s enough.”

Yn traced the rim of her glass slowly, eyes fixed on the condensation sliding down its side. “Sometimes she comes back from nursery school and asks why her friends have dads and she doesn’t,” she said calmly. “But it’s not grief. It’s just curiosity.”

She looked up, voice steady. “She’s never felt the absence. Just noticed the difference.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “So you just told her I wasn't even real? That’s the story you told her?”

“What would you have preferred?” she snapped. “That I tell a four-year-old that her father left and never came back? That he made promises he didn’t keep? That he gave me a specific date and let it pass like it meant nothing? That he blocked me for no reason after promising he'd love me for as long as he lived?"

He dropped his eyes. She continued.

“You told me you’d come back. You said May 23rd like it was a vow. And I waited, Megumi. For weeks. Months. Even after you blocked me, convinced you would come back. I was eighteen and pregnant, going to classes and living off cup noodles and pity, and I still waited.” Her voice cracked, and she hated herself for letting it.

He looked up then, and there was something awful in his face. Remorse. Grief. Shame. The whole cocktail.

“I wanted to,” he said. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to. Gojo—”

“Gojo didn’t carry your child,” she cut in. “Gojo didn’t bleed for three days straight on the floor of a one-bedroom apartment. Gojo didn’t wake up at 3 a.m. because the baby wouldn’t stop screaming.”

Megumi said nothing.

She leaned back, folding her arms. “You got your big break. You got your fame. That’s great. I hope you think about me every time you win an award.”

“I do,” he said, and there was no bravado in it. Just quiet devastation. “I thought about you when I wrote every song. Especially the ones I didn’t let anyone hear.”

Yn blinked, not expecting that. Not knowing what to do with it.

She didn’t answer right away.

Just looked at him. Really looked at him.

There were flecks of the boy she once loved still there, hidden beneath sharper cheekbones, under the exhaustion pooling beneath his eyes. He looked weathered. The type of tired that went beyond missed sleep. And in some twisted way, that made her angrier. Because he had no right to look like he’d suffered.

“You thought about me?” she repeated, her voice quiet. “What do you want, Megumi? Redemption? Closure?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I just wanted you to know that I didn’t forget you.”

“You did.” She tilted her head, expression unreadable. “You just remembered too late.”

Silence bloomed between them, heavier than anything they’d said.

“Yn,” he started again, voice rough, “I don’t want to rewrite the past. I know I can’t. But I’m here now. And if you’d let me, if there’s even the smallest chance, I want to be a part of her life. Of yours.”

He paused, something cracking in his tone. “I’m her father. I’ve already missed four years, I can’t miss another one.”

Yn’s face didn’t soften. If anything, it hardened.

“You’re about to go on tour,” she said flatly. “You say you want to be a present father, and maybe you even mean it, but let’s be honest. That’ll last what? Two weeks? Then you’re gone for months. Then you come back. Long enough to smile for a few photos, maybe learn her new favorite color, until it’s time to disappear again and start another album.”

"You can't be present like you want to Fushiguro because being present means giving up everything you worked on which means all those years? Were for nothing."

“You want to be her father?” she said, eyes sharp. “That’s noble. But being her father isn’t a title, Megumi. It’s consistency. It’s being there when she throws up at 2 a.m., when she can’t find her favorite socks, when she’s scared of the dark for no reason and only wants me. That’s what it means.”

“I can try,” he said, almost breathless. “Even if I’m not perfect—”

“You’ll fail,” she interrupted flatly. “You’ll miss a birthday or a ballet recital or she’ll have a nightmare and cry because you haven’t called in two weeks. And you’ll feel bad, and say sorry, and you’ll write a song about it. And I’ll be the one sitting on the floor with her, picking up the pieces.”

Her voice didn’t waver. It was too tired to.

“Because that’s what I’ve always done.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to find something to say that wouldn’t sound like another promise he couldn’t keep.

“I don’t want to make it worse.” His voice was low. “I just… I want to try. Even if it’s messy. Even if I’m late. I want her to know I’m not a ghost.”

“You were,” Yn whispered. “For four years, you were nothing but a ghost.”

Megumi opened his mouth, but she raised a hand to stop him.

“You can’t be what you’re asking to be, Megumi. Not unless you give up everything you worked for. And if you do that, then what were the last four years for?” She leaned forward slightly. “All that sacrifice. All that distance. All that silence. For what? To become a mediocre dad with a Spotify plaque and a suitcase?”

Her words weren’t cruel. They were clinical. Precise. Like she’d rehearsed them in her head a thousand times.

“You can’t be two things at once. You can’t belong to the world and to her. So figure out who you’re showing up for.”

She stood from the table, readying herself to leave. "And if you chose it's her? She gets home from daycare at 6pm."

He showed up at 5:50.

Overeager? Possibly. But in his defense, he was given nothing to work with. He knew she was a four-year-old girl named Yume. That was about the extent of it.

What did four-year-olds even like nowadays? He had no clue. He’d dragged Nobara out of bed and into a toy store at 8 a.m. like his life depended on it.

Now he stood in front of the apartment door with a pale pink gift bag dangling from his wrist, stuffed with a glittery sticker book, a bunny-themed coloring set, a fuzzy blanket shaped like a cat, and, Nobara’s idea, a tiara that lit up and played a horrible tinkly version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star when you tapped the heart in the center.

In his other hand was a plastic tub the size of his ego, filled with pastel-colored candy floss that screamed cavities. He was almost certain Yn was going to banish it on sight.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Re-checked the time.

5:52 p.m.

He debated knocking. Debated waiting in the hallway like a weirdo until the clock hit six exactly. But before he could make a decision, the door creaked open on its own. Not wide, just a crack, like it had been left slightly ajar.

He took it as a sign.

Tentative, he stepped forward, knocking gently on the open wood. “Uh… hello?”

The smell of food hit him first, ginger, garlic, maybe salmon, and then the sound of soft humming. A familiar voice, not directed at him. A child’s laugh followed it.

“Mamaaa, I can’t find Tax Fraud’s crown!”

“You took it off her head, baby, now retrace your steps.”

He didn’t even realize he was smiling.

The laughter faded as Yn appeared from around the corner, still in her pale blue scrubs, hair pushed back the same way it had been at lunch. She blinked when she saw him, less surprised, more resigned.

“You’re early,” she said, tone flat.

“You said six.”

“And it’s not six.”

He held up the gift bag helplessly. “I brought offerings.”

Her eyes flicked to the bag. Then to the tub of candy floss.

She sighed. “You’re insane if you think I’m letting her eat that.”

“Knew it,” he muttered under his breath.

She stepped aside. “Shoes off."

He obeyed without question, slipping out of his sneakers.

The sound of a cartoon show flooded his ears and he followed it.

The living room was warm and dimly lit, with the soft glow of late afternoon sun pushing through the curtains. The cartoon played on low volume, a pink, sparkly mess of dancing cats, or maybe singing puppies, he couldn’t really tell.

Yume was on the floor, perched on a throw pillow like it was a throne, legs criss-crossed and socks mismatched. Her penguin plush, Tax Fraud, wore a beaded necklace and a bandage sticker on its head. A glittery crown lay abandoned next to a coloring book that had clearly already been half-filled in.

She didn’t notice him at first.

He hovered awkwardly by the entrance to the room, unsure if he should speak or wait to be invited. He was already intruding. He didn’t want to spook her.

“Yume,” Yn called calmly from behind him, “we have company.”

The little girl looked up then.

Her big eyes blinked at him, curious but unafraid. The TV blared some indecipherable high-pitched jingle in the background, but she muted it with a click of the remote, already displaying better manners than he had at her age.

“You’re the singer,” she said, standing up slowly, her grip on Tax Fraud unwavering.

He nodded. “I am.”

She tilted her head. “You came to our house.”

“I did.”

Her gaze drifted to the gift bag in his hand, then the candy floss. But she didn’t grab for it. Didn’t even step closer. Instead, she looked over her shoulder at Yn.

“What's he holding?”

“Ask him,” Yn said, from the kitchen. “It’s his gift.”

Megumi crouched down, holding the bag out carefully. “It’s for you. Thought maybe you and your penguin could use some new supplies.”

She took the bag gently, almost reverently, peeking inside. Her lips parted in a small gasp.

“I love cats,” she whispered, pulling out the blanket. “And sparkles. And pink.”

“I guessed,” he said.

She looked up at him again. “Thank you, Mister Megumi.”

He smiled, the tension in his chest easing just slightly. “You’re welcome.”

She turned and trotted off toward the couch, already pulling the sticker book from the bag with practiced glee. Tax Fraud was tucked carefully beside her, his crown now replaced on his head.

Megumi stood slowly, watching her settle in.

“Hey,” Yn said quietly beside him. He turned.

She nodded at the candy floss. “Kitchen counter. If I see it near her toothbrush, I'll rip out your vocal cords. Let's see you try to go on tour then.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender and moved to drop it off. As he set it down, Yuuta emerged from the hallway, giving him a mock salute.

“You survived,” he said under his breath.

“Barely.”

From the couch, Yume called, “You can sit here, Mister Megumi! Tax Fraud says you can share his throw pillow!”

Megumi looked at Yn, who shrugged. “She named it, not me.”

He walked over and lowered himself onto the pillow beside her.

He had no idea what he was doing.

But she leaned against his side like it was nothing, like it was normal, and Tax Fraud gave him a very solemn nod of approval.

Yume had already spread the blanket over her lap, carefully flattening the corners like it was something precious. She peeled a glittery sticker from the new book and stuck it, without hesitation, right on Tax Fraud’s belly.

“Mister Megumi,” she said, peeking up at him with a grin. “Did you know penguins don’t have knees?”

He blinked. “I… didn’t, actually.”

She nodded solemnly. “That’s why he walks funny.”

Megumi bit back a laugh, but the smile came anyway, real this time. “Makes sense.”

From the kitchen, Yn called, “Yume, dinner in ten. You want to go wash up?”

“Okay!” Yume leapt up, the tiara lighting up obnoxiously with every bounce as she scampered toward the bathroom, her penguin tucked under one arm.

Megumi followed her with his eyes. Then, almost to himself, he whispered,

“She’s perfect.”

From across the room, Yn didn’t look back.

“I know.”

extra! extra! read all about it! (no seriously read it)

yume named her penguin tax fraud after maki almost got arrested for it

yn is hating every second of this

maki hid in her room because she really doesn't want to give that $855 back

not proofread and i actually really hate this chapter

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[hatsbuckets]

This is such a good strategy! Especially if you put away your phone or any distraction too.

If you want to be super scary motivated during your 15 mins:

There's a completely free site recommended to me by my rhetoric professor called The Most Dangerous Writing App where if you stop writing for too long during your selected time, it will delete everything you've written. If you stop, the page will begin to blur and then literally stop and nothing is saved.

But if you write the whole time, it will save and let you copy/past or export your work.

You can choose a word count or a time from 3mins to 60mins.

I use it when I literally just need to move a plot forward (beating writers block) or want to warm up with one of their prompts.

Here's what it looks like (I'm on mobile rn)

Not sponsored. I just like sharing resources and this is a fun one my professor introduced to me.

Link again

disclaimer tho ig: the company or website or whatever Squibler does have an AI help thing on a different part of the site, but it's optional and from what I've heard not even that good lol. It's still "new" and idk how much it's used or what's been published with it, but. I do know that the most dangerous writing app won't use your writing and stuff to train the AI stuff so.

But yk. I've recently been iffy too about using it bc of the changes and AI stuff so yeah. Hard to use a site that straight up has something like this (the mdwa) where my brain has to work and kick ass VS. literally an AI "I'll do it for you, no brain required" tool. But that's up to you. But eh

Writing Motivation

The 15 Minute Rule

Set a timer for 15 minutes (or however long you want) and then write. Do not stop. Don't edit or delete anything. Don't hesitate. These 15 minutes are just for you and your writing. Afterwards, you can leave the work as it is, delete it, or edit it. You can either move forward with it or move on from it. But for these 15 minutes, get it all out of your system.

[fishnapple]

What you should know about your career

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

CITRINE

Social connections and people in general are very important to your career. They play a crucial role in shaping your success. If you're the kind who likes to work independently, who doesn't want to rely on others for support and favour, you might not like to hear this. But it seems going alone is not your path. You're inextricably connected to people. If you want to move forward, to achieve big success then you have to accept that you need other people. You need to work with them as a team, to belong to a group, rather than shining on your own. Whom you choose to connect with also can impact your career decisions. They can help you choose the right road, steer you towards places that let you play your strengths to the most. But if you don't practise discernment, people can lead you astray with their advice and goading. 

Although you need people, you also need to know whom you can share your loads with. This is one of the few instances where friends might not always be the best people to share your burdens with. They may mean well, but their actions and beliefs can hinder your vision, they might advise you against doing something too 'rebellious', too risky, in their eyes. This could confuse you, keep you in a safe zone that you can't expand or grow much. So making a clear distinction between your personal friends and people you work with is important. Keep the two spheres separated. It's not easy to do so, especially when you're uncertain about your choices and need advice from the people you trust. But sometimes, going against the grains will let you out of the haze. Finding people who can support and encourage your dreams and aspirations will not be easy but it will be rewarding. 

Speaking of going against the grains. I see a lot of struggle between traditions, legacies versus innovation and changes. You might have to fight against long held traditional beliefs that prove to be not helpful anymore for your career. Maybe you saw how older people were doing and were taught to go a certain way. But you need to hold your heart's desires at the centre and move with that. Your faith in yourself will be tested. Confidence will be born from the belief that whatever you're doing, you will have your own back and there will always be people who can accept and support you.

FLUORITE

I see a sudden ending. A change that can shake your stability and force you to change your old habits, move away from the old support system and find a new footing. This change will let you move away and find a new home for yourself. Literally or figuratively, as you might have to change your living space, go independent, or be away from home for a while. It will be difficult to stay at home and cling to the past comfort. You will miss it dearly, yearning for the safety and peace you had at home. But circumstances might push you out of your comfort zone and demand you to start exploring the outside world more. Overall, there will be an exchange, a transition, you will need to give up something in order to achieve a bigger goal. Even endure hardship and do something against your heart's desires. It's uncomfortable but it will lead you to discover many hidden parts inside you. You will slowly realise what you truly want and create a new start for yourself. 

Trust in a new start, be in the mindset of a beginner. Even when you think you're experienced, there will be a time where you need to let go of all of your past knowledge and experience and start anew, that is the sacrifice, the change that would come to you. You're asked to put in blind faith in a new adventure, relinquish any past glory and achievements. Become a total newbie who is so eager to learn and to play. 

You need to make a mark with your individuality, to stand out, to make people remember your unique essence. It's not about seeking attention, it's about defining yourself clearly in people's eyes, to let them know what you're capable of. Gaining support from people around you is vital. The best way is to be honest in being yourself, let people have a chance to really 'see' you. What’s interesting is you might feel resistant towards acting more boldly, in accordance with what you truly want because you think it's childish, coy and dramatic. But that's where your charm lies. Being charming and persuasive works in your favour when it comes to your career. Hold on firmly to your deepest self and you will find that being charming is not at all difficult. 

One extra note, you will receive many intuitive messages through your dreams. If you see a child or children in your dream, it's a sign that you're getting closer to the 'guidance' within. Notice their actions in the dream, what you do with them, how you feel, you will find many answers through your dreams.

LABRADORITE 

A strong message of building up your strength and endurance is there. Not just physically but most importantly, mentally and emotionally. You might encounter lots of jealousy, slander and gossip at work. But if you stay strong within, you can weather them all. Nothing can get inside your heart if you don't allow them. You could feel like everything that is happening is outside of your control, they're not what you want and wish for. But don't turn your back on them. You're advised to let your heart lead you, but not into hiding, but straight ahead, rising above any obstacles. You're strong and have your intuition backing you up. This is the time to be fearless. 

There's going to be some sudden changes in your surroundings that can shake you, make you bewildered and confused. But fear not, you can get over them. As long as you stay rooted in what you believe in. Loyalty, to yourself, your principles and your good friends, will be an anchor that keeps you safe from all the storms around you. Beware of gossip that seems harmless and fun at first. Sometimes, it's best to keep some information for yourself rather than sharing it openly. Words can be a deadly weapon, for you or against you. Superficial connections won't help you grow. Focus on creating strong bonds with a selected few, whom you trust and can rely on. Quality over quantity. Whom you can envision spending a future with. Be selective of your friends and stick to them. Not everything has to be about fun and enjoyment. Some are there to help you learn new lessons, difficult lessons that you can't learn by yourself. Treasure those who you can count on as your friends. 

Even when you're angry and indignant. Don't be hasty to jump into conclusions and judge people. Your career will flourish more easily if you show your compassionate side more often, even to people who you think don't deserve it. Best not to linger too long on them. Save your energy to appreciate other people. Encourage them, appreciate their effort. You will become an inspiration. Above all, give appreciation to yourself. Allow yourself to dream big. Your career is marked by many movements. You have what it takes to go far.

The number 5 might have a significant meaning in your career. 

CLEAR QUARTZ 

There can be some hidden strife and conflicts in your career. The environment you're in seems to be not encouraging of honesty and cooperation. Instead, it promotes individualism and hidden competition. Life has an interesting way of letting you learn new lessons by arranging events that let you get out of your comfort zone. If you prefer solitude, then somehow, you would at one point be given a chance to do something in front of the public. You might resist it at first, but it will unlock your many hidden potentials and you will find that it's not as bad as you initially thought. 

Your career is marked by many moments of transformation and rebirth. The moment you choose to shine on your own, the moment that you achieve success, you will find that some connections will fall apart, some people will distance themselves from you. But the moment you stumble, when you're lost, you will also find help in unlikely places. Sunny and cloudy moments seem to alternate in your career forecast. There's a hidden force within you that doesn't allow you to be defeated. You're protected and pushed to keep moving. No matter how hazy the view in front of you is. You might have to change careers a few times before finally settling down. You can be restless for a while, wanting to learn as much from your job as possible, and when a job can't provide anymore lessons, you feel the urge to move on. Some might comment that you're being too flaky, too unsteady. Sometimes you yourself will also doubt your choices, with so much changes, can you succeed, can you achieve mastery of anything? Loyalty to an ideal, you have plenty, but loyalty to an actual place and position, you might not. One hard lesson you need to learn is to pursue something until you're confident of it, to stick to something long enough. It doesn't mean that you have to stay in a horrible job until you can't take it anymore. It means that you need to keep your purpose and goals crystal clear and hold on to them, no matter where you go. When you choose to stay in a job, you will exhaust all the possible ways of how to do the job creatively. You become an innovator, always find something new in something familiar. This way, you won't get bored quickly and can commit better to a job.

Male figures might have some big influences on your career in general. Also connect more with your masculine energy. When that energy is left unchecked, it can make you restless and reckless. But when you know how to connect with it, it can become your supporter in pursuing your goals.

[starburnt0ut]

Not a clue if this has already been put out but I love the idea of the saja boys being inhuman.

They don’t (in my head at least) really need to breathe or blink but many demons do out of habit of their previous human lives-or simply to not go insane with the small act of control over their bodies.

Just imagining them with a (hunter?👀) partner and they’re just obsessed with their human functions. Just randomly they’ll put their head on your chest to hear your heartbeat, the way it subtly thumps your chest and the sound of it being amplified against their ear and just the body heat you let off.

Speaking of,even if your a naturally cold person compared to them your considerably warmer and they love it. Literally their favourite thing is having your hands on them in any way practically leeching off your warmth.

Them just watching you. You being alive is like something alien to them yet so undeniably alluring. The way your body just moves with each breathe the way your blinks just happen. You’re not conscious of your bodies functions and that’s so fascinating to them.

Even the way you smell, be is fruity or sweet or musky or woody or whatever. In the demon world (in my head lol) things smell like fire or smoke most of the time. They pick up and even just a brand change of your perfume, exact same scent notes or not the smallest change will be picked up on like a blood hound. Being able to literally smell you out in a room from their heightened noses, if you’re in a room they’ll know before you do.

Don’t even get me started on Rumi.

[cherryappleblizz]

The Hank(s) [Parent HC’s]

SPOILERS FOR AFTER REALIZATION ENDING

A/n: Ever since Hank 5 said his dream is to be a dad, the breeding kink side of me awaken like nothing ever before. I can’t stop thinking about how cute the boys would be as parents

Side warning: I don’t have the game, so my limited knowledge is entirely based off YouTube playthroughs of the Hanks and some clips I seen on Tik Tok. Sorry if some parts are off or wrong!!!

(Fluff/suggestive but not really, Female reader)

They use your pregnancy as motivation to pursue their dreams harder, not only for themselves but to also help support you financially

They follow you EVERYWHEREEEEE

You can barely get up from bed without them asking a million questions of what’s wrong or what you need

Whatever you need, they’re at your beak and call. Feeling sore? They’re rubbing you up. Have weird cravings at 5 a.m.? They’re racing to the kitchen dropping everything on their way back to you

When it’s time to deliver they are all over the place:

Hank 1 and 3 are holding your hand

Hank 5 wiping away your sweat and tears trying his best to comfort you, telling you it’ll all be over soon

Hank 4 is pacing back and forth saying he can’t look but keep looking anyways

Hank 2 passed out on the floor

You honestly believe the Hanks are crying more than the baby when it’s in your arms

The baby is an identical copy of Hank 5, from the hair to the moles. Looks absolutely nothing like you.

9 months in your womb, making you suffer… THE’RE PERFECT!!!

When y/n is trying to breastfeed, Hank 3 is trying to take a peak/making suggestive comments like “When they’re done, can I have a taste?” And gets slap against the head from the other hanks

They set a rotating schedule based on days of the week for changing diapers and who wakes up to check on the baby at night

They all have their own nicknames for mini Hank. Something cheesy like meatball, dumpling, etc

When you have to leave for the real world, the baby starts crying like crazy missing you terribly. So when you get home, you often walk in on the guys cosplaying as you.

The daddy-O shirt Hank 5 is wearing was used to surprise the Hanks with your pregnancy

Hank 5 never took it off since then

A/n: Aaaaa this is my first time ever writing anything so sorry for any mistakes! PLEASE PLEASE let me know of your headcanons! I’m dying for more Hank content so please share!

[keraiiszn]

ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

ꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ x ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

It all started at 3:12 AM, when I woke up feeling like my uterus had a personal vendetta against me. Like it had been plotting this moment for nine months, sitting in meetings with my back, my bladder, and my ankles, strategizing on how to make me suffer.

I didn't scream. Not yet. I just laid there breathing heavily like I'd just done a HIIT workout while eating a burrito, and whispered, "Oh no." Because I knew. I KNEW this wasn't Braxton Hicks. This was the real deal. The baby was clocking in for his shift, and he was apparently the type of employee who shows up early and ready to WORK.

"Elijah…" I nudged him with the gentleness of a mother waking her child for school.

He snored. Not just any snore—the deep, satisfied snore of a man who had eaten a full plate of his mama's mac and cheese and watched two episodes of The First 48.

"Elijah," I said louder, with the tone I usually reserved for when he left dishes in the sink.

Nothing. This man was in REM sleep like he was getting paid for it.

I balled up my fist, stared at it like it held the power of Thor's hammer, and thumped it against his chest with the precision of a drummer hitting a snare.

"HUH—WH—WHO—Y/N, YOU GOOD?! We getting robbed?! Where the gun?!"

"I think I'm in labour."

Now let me paint you a picture of how this grown man—this six-foot-six, business-owning, tough-talking man who had practiced birth affirmations with me in the mirror, packed my hospital bag with lavender oils and those expensive soft socks from Target, watched seven birthing videos (and cried during three of them), and made a playlist called "Welcome to the World, Lil Bro" complete with Stevie Wonder and John Legend—got out of that bed.

He moved like his soul was leaving his body and he was trying to catch it.

"Wait—you sure? Like, contraction contractions? Or like when you thought you were in labor last week but it was just gas?"

I gave him a look that could have curdled fresh milk.

"I don't know, baby. I just woke up screaming on the inside and feeling like someone's playing dodgeball with my organs. What you think?"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I waddled to the bathroom like a penguin in flip-flops. Sat on the toilet. That's when it happened.

My water broke.

Now see, I thought it would be graceful. Maybe like a gentle spring rain or a leaky faucet. Something manageable. Something I could clean up with a regular towel and some dignity.

Nope.

That thing gushed out like Niagara Falls decided to relocate to my bathroom. Like someone turned on a fire hydrant. I stood up and yelled, "ELIJAH! WE GOT A FLOOD! NOAH NEED TO BUILD AN ARK IN HERE!"

He came flying in—and I mean FLYING, like he had wings—with a mop.

A mop. Not a towel. Not a change of clothes. Not even a "baby, you okay?"

A whole mop.

"Elijah... what are you doing?"

"Cleaning up the water?"

"Baby, that water came from INSIDE ME. You gon' mop me up?!"

He stood there holding that mop like it had betrayed him. "I... I panicked. I heard 'flood' and my brain said 'mop.'"

Another contraction hit me and I had to lean against the sink. "Get me some clothes. And throw that mop away. We ain't mopping up no birth water."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

While I was bent over the bed trying to breathe through a contraction like the doula taught me—in through the nose, out through the mouth, imagine opening like a flower (which, by the way, is the most ridiculous thing anyone has ever told a woman in labour)—Elijah decided, out of nowhere, that the hospital bag I had meticulously packed three weeks ago was "completely unacceptable."

"This can't be all you bringing! Ain't no snacks. What about your bonnet? The good bonnet, not the raggedy one! What about the baby's sound machine? THE LOUNGE SET! You ain't bring the three-piece lounge set you made me drive to three different Targets for?!"

"Elijah—" I started, but another contraction cut me off.

"AND YOUR CHARGER! Lord Jesus in heaven, you forgot your phone charger. We gon' have a baby with no damn phone battery. How we gon' take pictures? How you gon' post on Instagram? Your mama gon' kill us both!"

This man—this grown man who I had watched parallel park a truck and negotiate business deals—was now tearing apart our linen closet, throwing robes and random items into a duffel bag like we were fleeing the country.

I was having a contraction on the floor, bracing against the couch, doing my breathing exercises, and he walked past me and handed me my eyelash curler.

"Elijah. I'm. In. Labor. I don't need lashes."

"You always say you hate looking dusty in pictures! What if someone takes a photo for the hospital newsletter? What if Channel 7 shows up? You said you wanted to look cute meeting the baby!"

I wanted to fight him. I wanted to throw that eyelash curler at his head and then follow it up with the bonnet he was frantically searching for. But another contraction said, "Nah, we're not doing violence today. We're breathing."

"Baby," I said through gritted teeth, "if you don't stop packing like we're going on a three-week vacation and help me get to this car..."

He stopped. Looked at me. Looked at the chaos he'd created. "You right. You right. Let's go have this baby."

Then he grabbed the eyelash curler anyway.

Getting to the hospital should have been simple. We'd driven there twice for practice runs. We knew exactly where to go.

But at 4:30 AM, with me contracting every five minutes and Elijah's adrenaline making him drive like he was in Fast and Furious, everything went wrong.

First, he missed the exit.

"ELIJAH."

"I see it, I see it! I'ma get off at the next one!"

"There IS no next one for three miles!"

Then the GPS decided to recalculate and took us through the scenic route. Through downtown. Past the 24-hour donut shop where Elijah had the audacity to say, "You want anything?"

"DO I WANT ANYTHING?! I want this baby out of me! I want to not feel like I'm being split in half! I want you to drive like you got some sense!"

"I'm just saying, donuts might help—"

"ELIJAH MOORE, if you stop at that donut shop, I'm having this baby in the parking lot and naming him Krispy just to spite you!"

We finally got to the hospital at 5:15 AM. Elijah pulled up to what he thought was the emergency entrance but was actually the loading dock for medical supplies.

A security guard knocked on the window. "Y'all lost?"

"My wife's in labor!" Elijah announced like he was Paul Revere.

The guard looked at me, mid-contraction, gripping the door handle. "Maternity ward is around the front, baby daddy. Follow the pink signs."

"Pink signs," I repeated through my breathing. "Follow the pink signs, baby daddy."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

We got there. I got checked in. Got hooked up to all the monitors. Got examined by a nurse who had clearly seen it all and was not impressed by my dramatics.

"You're 3 centimeters," she announced.

I almost cried. three? THREE? After all that suffering, all that breathing, all that flooding and mop drama, I was only three centimeters?

"That's it?" Elijah asked. "She been in pain for hours."

"First baby?" the nurse asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled the knowing smile of a woman who had probably delivered half the babies in the city. "Oh honey, you've got a long day ahead of you. But don't worry—" she looked at Elijah "—daddy's gonna take real good care of you, ain't you, daddy?"

Then Elijah, this man who had just driven through half the city like a maniac, who had packed our entire linen closet, who had brought a MOP to clean up amniotic fluid, looked at this nurse and asked, "Can she get the epidural now? You know, as like a courtesy? Since we here early?"

The nurse blinked at him. Slow. Deliberate. Like she was processing whether he had really asked what she thought he asked.

"Sir, labor doesn't work on a courtesy system. This ain't the Ritz-Carlton."

I would have laughed if I wasn't busy trying to breathe through another contraction.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I labored all day. ALL DAY. I walked the halls like I was training for a marathon, bouncing on that big rubber ball they gave me (which I decided was invented by someone who clearly hated pregnant women), and did squats in the bathroom because apparently that's what helps.

My mom came around noon with a bag full of snacks and that worried look she gets when she thinks I'm not handling something right.

"You doing okay, baby?"

"I'm fine, Mama. Just bringing your grandson into the world."

Elijah's mama arrived an hour later with enough food to feed a small army and immediately started rearranging the room to her liking.

"This ain't set up right. Why is the bed facing that way? The baby needs to see the window when he come out. Elijah, move that chair. Y/N, you need to eat something. You can't birth no baby on an empty stomach."

I saw Jesus at one point around 3 PM. Not in a religious way—in a "this epidural is hitting different" way. He told me I was doing good and to stop telling Elijah to shut up so much.

I told Jesus that Elijah deserved every "shut up" he got.

Between contractions, I called Elijah every name I could think of. Not mean names—well, not too mean—but I definitely questioned his intelligence, his common sense, and his ability to handle stressful situations.

At one point around 4 PM, this man brought in a Bluetooth speaker and tried to play "Pum Pum Bring Life" by Kalado because "it's to brighten the mood and it’s true that I was bringing life through my pussy."

I threw a cup of ice at him.

Not the whole cup—I needed the ice. Just the ice. It scattered across the floor like musical notes of my frustration.

"Turn it off."

"But baby—"

"TURN. IT. OFF."

The nurse came in to check the commotion and saw Elijah collecting ice cubes from the floor while I glared at him from the bed.

"What happened here?"

"Musical differences," I said.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By 10 PM, I was 8 centimetres. EIGHT. We were getting close, and I could feel it in my whole body. Everything was different now. Intense. Real.

Elijah had been chewing the same piece of gum for four hours—nervous chewing, stress chewing—and the sound was about to make me lose whatever sanity I had left.

"If you don't spit out that gum right now, I'm going to make YOU birth this baby."

That's when he cried. Real tears. Not "I'm overwhelmed" tears or "this is scary" tears, but genuine, deep, emotional tears.

He was holding my hand, looking into my eyes, and saying, "You so strong. You doing so good, baby. Look at you. You growing our son and you ain't even complaining—"

"I've been complaining for nine hours."

"Okay, you complaining, but you DOING it. You really doing it. You got this."

And I believed him. I felt strong. I felt capable. I felt like Wonder Woman and Beyoncé and my mama all rolled into one.

Until I looked over and this man was eating a Slim Jim.

A SLIM JIM. During labor. During this sacred, powerful moment of bringing life into the world.

"Ain't no way. There is absolutely no way you're having a meat stick while I'm pushing out a human being."

He looked at the Slim Jim like it had materiized in his hand without his knowledge. "I'm stressed! I eat when I'm stressed! You know this about me!"

"Throw it away."

"But I just opened it—"

"ELIJAH."

He threw it away. But I could tell he was mourning that Slim Jim.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The nurse checked me one more time. "We're at 10 centimeters. Time to push."

Everything changed. The room got serious. The doctor came in. More nurses appeared. Elijah stood beside me, holding my hand, and I could see in his eyes that he was scared and excited and proud all at once.

"You ready?" the doctor asked.

Was I ready? Was anybody ever ready for this?

"Let's do it."

I pushed. And pushed. And screamed things that I'm pretty sure my mama pretended not to hear from the hallway. I might've said some things that require forgiveness and possibly some Hail Marys.

The doctor kept saying "I can see the head!" and Elijah kept crying and saying "That's my son! That's my son!" like he had just discovered fire.

And then.

Then I heard it.

That cry.

That tiny, loud, miraculous, earth-shattering cry that changed everything.

Elijah sobbed. Full-body sobbed. The kind of crying you do when something so beautiful happens that your body doesn't know how else to respond. His forehead pressed against mine, tears falling on my face. "He here. Oh my God, baby, he here. He really here."

They let him cut the cord, and his hands were shaking so bad the doctor had to help him. Then they laid our son on my chest, and everything else disappeared. I forgot the mop. I forgot the Slim Jim. I forgot the ice throwing and the GPS drama and the four-hour gum chewing. It was just us. Me, Elijah, and this perfect little brown baby with his daddy's nose and what I could already tell was going to be my whole attitude.

"Hi, baby," I whispered. "We been waiting for you."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Around 6 PM, after I had gotten cleaned up and the baby had been checked and weighed and declared perfect, the door opened.

Elias walked in first, all 6'4 of him, ducking slightly under the doorframe, carrying a teddy bear that was bigger than the actual baby and three foil-wrapped casseroles that smelled like heaven.

"I ain't know what y'all was gonna be hungry for, so I brought mac and cheese, green beans, and cornbread. And some of mama's pound cake for later."

Renee came next, wearing a full fur coat—mind you, it was 71 degrees outside—screaming before she even got through the door: "WHERE MY NEPHEW?! I need to see this baby that had y'all acting crazy for nine months!"

Maya trailed behind with a camera and a ring light. "I'm vlogging the first meeting. Y'all don't be weird. Act natural. But also, maybe look towards the camera when you hold him."

Toni brought wine.

"I can't drink that," I said.

"It's for me," she whispered. "Labor stories make me nervous."

The baby was sleeping in his little hospital bassinet, wrapped up like a tiny burrito, completely unbothered by the chaos that was his family.

Elijah was trying to swaddle him for the visitors, and Elias had the nerve to start coaching him from across the room.

"Nah, bro, tuck that corner tighter. You want it snug but not too tight. Like when you—" he paused, looked around the room full of women "—like when you fold a fitted sheet."

"Boy, you don't know nothing about folding fitted sheets," Renee said, pushing past him to get to the baby. "Let me show you how to swaddle. I raised four kids."

Maya was crying because "the baby yawned with purpose" and trying to get it on camera.

Renee asked if we wanted to make him a TikTok account. "For the brand," she said seriously.

Toni kept threatening to take him home. "Just for a week. For bonding. Cozy auntie bonding."

My mama was trying to organize all the gifts they brought while simultaneously making sure everyone washed their hands and didn't wake the baby.

Elijah's mama was critiquing everyone's baby-holding technique and rearranging the flowers they brought "for better energy flow."

The nurse finally had to come in and diplomatically kick them all out. "Visiting hours are over, and mama and baby need their rest."

"We family!" Renee protested.

"Family visiting hours are also over," the nurse said with the authority of someone who had managed many chaotic families.

As they filed out, each one of them kissing me and the baby and promising to come back tomorrow, I realized this was going to be our life now. This beautiful, loud, chaotic, loving circus was our baby's family.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was quiet. Finally quiet. Just me, Elijah, and our son. The baby was sleeping in Elijah's arms, bundled in the blanket that Elias had wrapped him in with surprising gentleness for such big hands.

Elijah was in the chair next to my bed, staring at our son like he was trying to memorize every detail of his face.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you more," I whispered back.

"You cussed me out seventeen times today."

"You deserved every single one."

He smiled. That soft smile he gets when he knows I'm right but doesn't want to admit it.

I leaned over and kissed his hand, the one that wasn't supporting our baby. "Thank you. For being here. For the panic packing. For bringing a mop to clean up amniotic fluid. For the Slim Jim stress eating. For everything."

He kissed my forehead. "You made me a dad. You made us a family."

Our son let out a tiny sigh in his sleep, the softest sound I had ever heard. Like he was perfectly content to be exactly where he was.

And just like that, the hardest, funniest, wildest, most chaotic day of our lives became the best day of our lives.

I looked at Elijah holding our baby, both of them peaceful and perfect, and thought about how this little person was going to grow up with the most loving, crazy, dramatic family in the world. He was going to have a daddy who packed entire linen closets and brought mops to floods, a mama who threw ice during labor, uncles who brought too much food, aunties who wanted to make him TikTok famous, and grandmamas who rearranged hospital rooms for better energy.

He was going to be so loved.

And probably so confused.

But mostly loved.

"What are we gonna call him?" I asked.

Elijah looked down at our son, then at me. "I don't know. But whatever we choose, he's gonna have some stories to tell about the day he was born."

"Starting with the mop?"

"Definitely starting with the mop."

Our baby opened his eyes for just a moment, looked around like he was taking inventory of his new world, then closed them again with what I swear was a satisfied expression.

Welcome to the family, little one. It's going to be a wild ride.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

[jordiemeow]

omg would love your thoughts on stepbrother!patrick. def a lot more of a freak

absolutely agreed. where art is a freak in private, patrick could not care LESS.

he's ogling you shamelessly, watching the way your shorts ride up or your tits spill out of your tank. wolf whistling, patting you on the ass when he passes and muttering fake apologies despite the way you catch a glimpse of the corner of his lip quirks as soon as he turns away. accidentally barges in on you in the shower when he needs his toothbrush but he takes his time to admire the curve of your body through the fogged-up glass and rubs one out afterwards.

he convinces himself it's you who wants it. the way you look at him and goad him when your parents aren't home. you're just as pervy as he is. or, at least, that's how he justifies it. actively makes comments like "you don't even try to be quiet, do you? it's like you want me to hear" when he hears you touching yourself in the next room over. on one occasion, he pushes his luck enough to 'accidentally' walk in on you, legs spread and toy nestled between them. you see him, of course. maybe you keep going anyways, just to mess with him.

"you like putting on a show that much, huh?"

and then the front door opens before things can escalate, leaving you both to come down from whatever the fuck that was alone in your separate bedrooms.

it all comes to a head a while after that. you get blasted out of your mind at a party and he offers to take you home. not that he's in any state to drive, mind you, but he sees an opportunity. he somehow manages to get the pair of you home safely but neither of you make any effort to get out of the car. he leans over to undo your seatbelt for you, hand lingering on your thigh while the pair of you stare at each other. he's not sure who moves first—probably him—but five minutes later he has you bent over in the back seat right outside your house, ploughing into you, groaning about how he's wanted to do this for so long. about how he's sick of seeing you in bikinis and not being able to do anything, sucking on lolly pops to taunt him, leaving your door open just a crack when you're getting changed.

absolutely brags to art about it afterwards because he knows his best friend has a thing for you. "no condom, by the way. she liked it messy." art tells him he's sick, but he just shrugs it off. "maybe. but i still fucked her first."

maybe one night you bring a date home, cosied up on the couch to watch a movie. patrick's passive aggressive all night, deciding now he's a living room kind of guy to avoid leaving the pair of you alone. he justifies it by claiming he's just a 'good brother' and 'keeping an eye on you.' but when your date goes home, he's quick to corner you.

"you think he can fuck you better than me? bet he doesn't even know what you sound like when you cum."

"of course he does," you lie straight through your teeth.

"wanna compare? let me bend you over right now and prove it."

refuses to touch you until you're begging. his dirty talk is always absolutely filthy, always highlighting the reality of your relationship. "say it. say you want your stepbrother to fuck you. c'mon, use your words." he gets off on the thrill of being caught. sneaking into your room at night, hand over your mouth to silence your sweet mewls. every thrust a risk, each moan a gamble, but it's worth it in the end. "ah ah ah. shhh. you're being loud again, baby. you want them to hear? want them to know you're getting filled by their golden boy?"

he's big into hickeys. thinks it's fucking hilarious to point them out in front of your parents, acting like it wasn't him that left him there just to watch how embarrassed you get while your mother frowns in disapproval and his dad pretends not to notice.

he acts like he's proud of you. like you're just some innocent little thing. you get good grades—as far as your parents are concerned, you never do anything wrong. patrick would do anything to break that image. "you're such a good girl for everyone else.... but in this room, with my cock in your mouth? not daddy's sweet girl anymore, are you?"

or he makes you watch yourself in the mirror. hand curled around your throat to keep your head up so you can see the blissed out, cock-drunk look on your face. "look at yourself. look how fucked out you are. look what your stepbrother does to you."

he sends you filthy texts at the dinner table with your family asking whether you're thinking about it too. about him taking you right there. bet your pussy's already dripping through those little shorts. and when you reply with wanna check? he ducks his head under the table to 'pick up his fork,' met with the sight of you opposite him, pushing your shorts to the side, pussy glistening and no panties in sight. what a tease.

loves when you talk back. he's big into testing your limits: edging, choking, orgasm control, anal, calling you dirty names just to see how far he can take it. and you're always willing to go further. "look at you. from my bratty little stepsister to my perfect little slut."

also probably has a breeding kink. finds it especially hot because he's your 'brother.' send tweet

[randomfandomswriting]

Mingi x Plus Size fem!Reader

When a secret crush on your friend leads to something more.

———

A/N: This came to me in a dream lol. I couldn’t help but think how Mingi would handle a bigger girl so I wanted to write something for us! (i am a bigger girl) So here it is! Please let me know what you think even if you’re Anon in my messages! and if you have any other one shot ideas (even fluff or angsty) im currently writing for Yunho/Mingi from Ateez and Yugyeom/Jackson/Mark from Got7… anyway i hope you enjoy!

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI. unprotected sex (do not do this IRL this is fiction). Nothing too aggressive or rough, more passionate. in case it’s not clear: this is a work of FICTION.

Saturday night’s at Mingi’s apartment became a regular occurrence. It had been for months and tonight was no different. There were always snacks, drinks, and a good movie. The two of you would sit side by side and watch a familiar favorite and sometimes when feeling bold something new. You always looked forward to spending time with him, and if you were being honest you had a big crush on him. He didn’t seem to know, even though all your friends could figure it out. You wouldn’t dare tell him. How embarrassing would that be? To be rejected would mean things could or would change between you, and for now being his friend was good enough.

“That new girl at work asked me out.” He said sometime halfway through the movie, and your attention snapped to him. Watching as he put popcorn into his mouth.

“The one you were telling me about?” You ask. It had been a week or two since she started. Mingi told you all about how she’d follow him around the office and try to talk to him during lunch. He seemed unphased when he talked about it, but now it was interesting.

“Yeah.” He shrugged, placing the popcorn on his coffee table, “Tonight actually.” You felt your stomach churn.

“Oh” You managed throat going dry, sending you reaching for your drink, needing the alcohol to burn your throat so you didn’t say anything that sounded like a hint of jealousy. “Why didn’t you go? Can you still meet up with her? I can totally leave?”

He let out a short laugh, “Y/n, Saturday’s are our nights.”

You let out a short laugh too, your head spinning, “But Min… You could’ve skipped tonight if you wanted to go out with that girl… what does she look like anyway?”

He shrugged, “She has… blonde hair?” He furrowed his brows, “Honestly I don’t know… and besides that I didn’t want to go with her.”

You tried to mask the giant smile spreading across your lips, he clearly wasn’t interested in her, you tried to push, just to see. “Is she your type? Is she tall… thin? What color eyes?”

“Woah… I need to speak to my lawyer before an interrogation.” He chuckles, his deep voice rumbling. “I don’t like her.” he said, “She’s not my type.”

A silent cheer erupts inside of you, but now you have more questions. You’d seen girls who practically threw themselves at Mingi. He was handsome and tall. He was sweet and kind. You tried to think of a time he’d gone home with a girl, what she looked like, but you couldn’t think of one.

“What is your type?” You ask, the movie long forgotten though his eyes were fixed on the screen. He shook his head, a laugh escaping his lips again, his eyes moving over to you.

“God,” He sighs, “What's with you tonight?” his voice is playful so you don’t back track.

“I just thought about how I’ve never seen you with a girl… you never talk about it if you’re with them…”

“You don’t talk about guys you see…” He retorts, and you laugh.

“I don’t see guys.” You reply, finishing your glass of soju and reaching for the bottle.

“Why not?” He asks, you shrug taking a swing from your glass and looking back at him. You look for a lie, something so you don’t have to tell him because I like you stupid boy.

“I hate guys.” You muse, which isn’t a lie. He laughs. “Okay so now you.”

“I don’t see girls because the ones that throw themselves at me aren’t my type.” You raise your brows. Beautiful women have thrown themselves at him, you’ve seen it before, watched them flip their beautiful hair and flash pearly white grins. You let out another laugh, he had to be lying, you thought.

“So then what is Song Mingi’s type?” You ponder, and he blushes, your eyes widen. “Min!” You slap him playfully, “Is there something you want to tell me?” This whole time right in front of you it was clear, Mingi didn’t have a type of woman. He clearly liked men.

“You’re my type.” The words left his mouth casually, as he reached for the rest of the soju. You let out a short laugh, because, well, you were in shock. You watched as he finished off the soju. Your cheeks flushed more red, your skin burns hot. Maybe he was joking. He had to be right?

You hadn’t moved, you couldn’t even if you wanted to. You were frozen, and he made his way back. New bottle of soju in his hand. You just looked at him, and he took a few moments before looking at you.

“What?” He asked, “I- I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not.” you say quickly, “I’m not.”

“You’re the most silent I’ve ever heard.”

“I was just trying to see if you were joking.” He rolls his eyes, before they land on you.

“Why would I joke about that?” You sighed, maybe Mingi didn’t get it.

Growing up, in a bigger body meant things like that happened. You had to deal with people joking with you about dating or down right being disgusted by the idea. As you got older it became worse, with men wanting to keep you a secret, use you for sex, or meeting you and ghosting you soon after. That’s why you didn’t like to date. It was a mental torture.

“I just… I’m surprised.” You bring a hand over your face, “You’re just… You. and I’m me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Mingi your a total babe.” You groan, “And I’m me.”

“You’re beautiful.” He snapped, “Every part of you. Including your sick little brain that tells you you’re not beautiful.” Your back to shock again, not to mention the butterflies he normally gave you felt more like giant birds. You had to pick your jaw up off the couch. “I like you. I’ve liked you for a while. And not just your looks either. Everything. You’re funny, smart, witty, kind… I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship, so since you don’t like me can we just please go back to watching the movie? We can forget I said anything, and just continue being friends.”

“And if I do like you?” The words leave your mouth faster than you can stop them, the soju giving you more courage that you would’ve had without it. He turns his head back toward you, now he’s in shock.

“Do you, really?” His brows furrow, and you hate how adorable he looks when confused. You nod, and watch as he closes the space between you, stopping to place his glass on the table, but his nose grazed yours. Your eyes flutter down and shut by the time his lips finally connect with yours, and it leaves you breathless. Still in shock it takes you a few seconds to take it in. The taste of soju on his tongue as it dips into your mouth leaves your head dizzy and your hands find his broad shoulders. Nails lightly digging into the fabric of his black t-shirt. His hands find the curves of your sides and more down to your hips, and though you usually hate it, you take comfort in the feeling of his big hands on you.

You had thought about what it would be like to kiss him for a while now, this was even better. He was good. He knew exactly how to move his lips and use his tongue, and you pulled him even closer to you, his body pressing against yours as your fingernails found the nape of his neck, gently running down his skin. He had done the same, daydreaming about kissing you, feeling your soft lips against his. He loved feeling your body, how soft you were in his hands, he loved feeling it when you even hugged him goodbye, this was heaven.

His hands moved up your curves fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt causing you to giggle, it tickled and you squirmed your lips parting from his.

“Is- Is that okay?” he asked and you nod, “We can stop if you want. Any time you want.”

“I don’t want you to stop.” You admit, blush creeping over your cheeks and he smirked, nudging you with his nose again, this time his fingers are hooking under your shirt, pulling it up over your head and you move to help him. Usually you’d feel like you needed to hide, but Mingi’s eyes on you made you want more of him. insecurity didn’t cross your mind as his lips met back with yours. He only lingered there for a few seconds, “You’re perfect.” he hums, his deep voice rolling out into your mouth making you move to kiss him. Your teeth gently nipping at his bottom lip, making him groan.

His lips only last there for a few more seconds before they’re moving down your neck and to your bare chest. His hands finding new places to grab and caress, your chest arching toward him involuntarily as he used his tongue to swipe against your warm skin. You couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip, his teeth sinking into the same spot he was kissing seconds ago. You moan as your body swells with heat. You notice the imbalance of clothes and reach to pull off his shirt, he moves to help you and clings back to your neck like two magnets snapping together. Your nails slide down his neck again, and over his shoulders and you can see the goosebumps that follow and he moans against your skin. You can feel him growing more and more hungry, his hands moving down your chest, a hand slipping under the waistband of your pants and between your thighs. You whimper your thighs parting to make room for him and his eyes find yours.

“So wet for me…” He rasps, “let me take you to my bedroom.” You nod rapidly, and he moves his hand to grab yours.

It’s a mad dash once you’re in there, your hands moving to his waistband as he moves to yours. He leans down to kiss you more, hungrier, sloppier than before. He gets your pants off and then his, before his big hands are back on you. He looks at you like a painting, and you’ve never felt more beautiful as his palms slowly move down your sides, every curve being caressed, his lips down your chest and stomach making you blush. He ends up on his knees in front of you and it makes your heart flutter to see his pretty eyes looking up at you. He looks so pretty on his knees, mouth ajar, lips swollen and pink, his tongue sweeping over them as he continues to admire every inch of you.

His fingers run up your legs and thighs and over the curves of your ass, where he gets a hand full and you giggle as his fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down. “Can I taste you?” He asks and you nod, blushing as he nods for you to sit on his bed. You sit back as he moves toward you, his lips finding your thighs, his hands hooking around and grabbing them apart, pulling you closer to his mouth. “I’ve dreamed about this.” He rasps as he begins to devour you.

One of your hands finds his hair, pushing it out of his face so you can see his pretty eyes, and he moans when your eyes meet his. His tongue laps at you, and he pushes further into you with his tongue as his fingers dig into your thighs holding you apart for him. He was good, and he was savoring the moment tasting you as he lapped at your arousal. His tongue moved up to your clit and his lips latched onto you making your moans falter into more of a cry, your head falling back onto the bed as you rolled your hips against his face. You couldn’t control yourself, and he was loving every second of being between your thick thighs. He was so vocal about it, his deep voice rumbled into you as he moaned and growled trying his best to keep you still. Your head is spinning when you feel a hand move from your thigh, and you can feel a long finger slipping into you easily, it makes you whimper and he adds another finger curling his fingers as he pumps them in and out of you.

“Mingi…” Your voice shakes as he continues to lap and suck on you, your orgasm starting to swell in the pit of your stomach, between his mouth and his fingers you weren’t able to hold it together. You were falling apart, your moans turning into squeaking whines, your voice shaking. He was hitting the right spot with his fingers and his tongue. He didn’t care to make a mess, burying his face between your legs, making sure he didn’t miss a beat in making you feel good.

“Come on, princess.” He growls, his fingers not stopping his relentless movements, “Cum in my mouth.” He rumbles and you didn’t have much of a choice, as you cried out a string of curses, your body shaking beneath him. Your vision was long gone as you squeezed your eyes shut your hands grasping for his bedsheets. He doesn’t stop his tongue, enjoying every last drop he can as you lay there your eyes closed.

“Fuck.” You breathe slowly pushing yourself up as he meets you halfway, red puffy lips still wet from you. You kiss him this time, sloppy, nasty, your tongue slipping into his mouth and when he returns his you suck on it, a hum from your throat. “My turn.” You pull away and he looks at you. Your hands reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants, you could tell he wasn’t wearing underwear, and it was confirmed as you pulled his long thick cock free. He’s hard already and you switch spots with him on the bed.

“I’ve dreamt about this…” He moans, as your hand wraps around him your eyes finding him as you lick a long wet line up his shaft, he bites his bottom lip, keeping his eyes on you. You stroke him slowly, using your saliva to keep him wet.

“Keep talking to me…” You say, “I want to hear how good I am.” You blink up at him before taking him into your mouth, just the tip at first.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me.” He rumbles, and you do as you use your tongue over his tip, swirling your saliva around him. “Take more, please.” He begs, and you oblige, stretching your mouth around him as he moans in a deep breathy voice, “So perfect.”

You start slowly, taking him as far back into your mouth as you can but making sure to pull all the way back. Your eyes still looking up at him as you take him further, into your throat, your eyes watering as you bob there, and he moans even louder. You moan too, around his length and the vibration makes him shudder. Watching his head fall back you take pride in it. You got him right where you want him and you take him until you gag but don’t pull off yet. You don’t dare as you bob your head more, and he growls a hand coming up into your hair, a tight grip on it as you suck in your cheeks pulling off him, your hands coming up to stroke him as you pull away, taking a breath his eyes finding yours.

You know you probably look rough, there’s saliva dripping from your lips, your eyeliner is definitely smudged from this or when he made you cum. But you’re watching Mingi lose control, his face red, his eyes fixated on you.

“You beautiful girl.” He rasps, and you wrap your lips around him again. His grip on your hair somehow grows tighter but he’s not pushing you, just holding you still. Then you feel his hips thrust up, his cock sliding into your throat easier now, and you moan around him. Your hands finding his bare thighs, your fingernails gently but firmly scraping into his skin as he fucks your mouth slowly. You’re expecting him to finish like this, you want him too, his brows furrowing as he lets deep moans roll from his throat. “Not like this.” He groans and you suck off him again, taking another breath he pulls you toward him, eagerly, his lips hungry.

“How do you want me?” You whimper, your lips still lingering on his. This ignited something feral in him.

“Turn around, grab that pillow… both of them…” You listen to him, following every instruction, “Under your hips, good.” You stick your ass out for him, without him asking and he growls at the sight of you, every single curve on display as you look back at him. A hand slaps your ass and you whimper and giggle moving your hips back towards him as he gets closer, lining himself up with you, and you brace yourself for him, your fingers curling into his sheets holding tight as he moves agonizingly slow into you. The stretch alone feels good, your mouth falling open as you moan. “So fucking good.” He groans, his palms gliding over your ass to your hips, grabbing tightly as he thrusts himself fully into you.

The feeling of him filling you is addicting, you need him to move but instead you grind back onto him, “Fuck.” You whimper, moving again. He lets you move, use him like a toy.

“Just like that.” He rasps, “Show me how good my cock makes you feel.” You throw it back harder, a little faster and you crave to hear him moaning more and more. His eyes admire the way your body moves, every jiggle and every bounce making him want more. You keep up a steady pace, the two of you just sounds of bodies crashing together and moans, whimpers, and growls. Your stamina starts to weaken as your stomach starts to flutter with the start of another orgasm, and you clench around him sloppily, sinking onto his cock until he takes over. His pace is relentless, energized, you don’t even move now, just trying to hold steady as he pounds into you. Your body trembles as he hits your spot and your brain gets foggy.

“fuck.” You cry, “Mingi…” you whine.

“C’mere. I want to watch you as you cum again.” He groans, and you hate the feeling of him sliding out of you, leaving you empty as you move over to face him, his hands scrambling for the pillows, “put these under your hips.” he instructs and you nod quickly moving them and he helps you into the perfect spot before slowly sinking into you, both of you letting out a shaking moan. He picks back up to the pace he was at, and you watch as his eyes fall shut, he uses his entire body to press against you as he grunts your hands reaching for his bare broad shoulders.

“Mingi—“ You cry, “I’m so close.” His hips slam into you faster, your words falling back into nonsense as one hand grips your hips, the other moving to your clit making your legs shake as both motions make your orgasm start to peak. Before you can feel him twitch inside of you, his own words become a deep growl as he releases inside of you. You followed behind, your eyes tearing as you cried out. Your body jerks away from him as your brain turns into mush, your body on fire as you continue to tremble beneath him. He stays inside of you, and you don’t want him to go yet as he leans toward you, his lips kissing yours lazily.

“Fuck.” He groans, and you nod in agreement.

“Yeah.” You breathe heavily, he slowly slides out of you, the two of you gasp in response. He doesn’t go far, immediately cuddling into your side, head nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His lips pressing against your skin, his hand coming up to turn your face toward him. “You’ve daydreamed about this?” You smirk, his nose nudging yours as he smirks nodding, suddenly sheepish.

“It was better than I’d imagined.” He grins. You laugh and shake your head before kissing him again.

“You should’ve told me…” He sighs. “We could’ve done this sooner.” You giggle again.

“Better late than never.” You shrug and he laughs now too. He sits up, and looks down at you with a smile on his lips. He looks so pretty now too, even with swollen lips and messy hair.

“Okay perfect girl, let’s get you cleaned up and get some food… and then we can do this again.” You let out a laugh as he puts his hands out to you, helping you up.

“We have all the time in the world now.” You smile, and he does too.

“I’m not wasting anymore.” He smiles before pulling you up with him.

[earthsparked]

Although it's not really focused on, I do wonder what the bots would feel like when we touch them (physical affection). Sometimes they're portrayed as being cold to the touch, sometimes they're warm like a computer, but I personally think that Cybertronians are more in-between, just like how humans are—the extremities tend to be cooler than the body itself, although they can still be pretty warm.

For example, Optimus has warm hands, perfect for holding cold humans, but if it's frigid outside? Lay on his chassis, that's where you go to defrost from the cold.

A bot like Ultra Magnus has even warmer hands, a warmer chassis, and woah, even his shoulder pauldrons are warm! I would love to sit on his shoulders, but would I accidentally fall asleep and fall off? Yes. Yes I would.

Smaller bots are the best for cuddling though, even with the size difference. Watching a movie with Bumblebee? Welp, now he's watching a movie with his human, who's fast asleep. He wouldn't mind.

Gah, physical affection with the bots (any bot) is my favorite! Let me hug them!

Oh you've hit on one of the things I can't quite decide (in a good way!)

You're so right. If I had a mech friend, I'd be all over them. Cat on a warm car hood. Chilling on their knee. Sprawled over their shoulder.

What I can't quite decide is, I go back and forth on how a mechanical being would register physical touch. It seems intuitive that they'd have to have some sensory input from their exterior. To what degree can they feel their armor, though? And does touch, for them, tie into emotion and pleasure the way it does for us? It's hard to even consider what it might mean if it didn't.

You're very right that this isn't really focused on much. I think one of the biggest differences between humans and Cybertronians, and yet one of the most unexplored, is that they can in all likelihood turn off their physical pain. At least to some degree. They can probably alter their sensory capacities to a much, much greater extent than we can. What's life like when you can decide how much or how little you want to feel? And how is that sensation processed?

In humans, there's a rare condition of being unable to feel pain and it's considered extremely dangerous. Because pain is a warning that something is wrong. If you can't feel pain, how do you know you've broken your ankle? You could just keep walking on it, doing more and more structural damage, until you've become permanently injured. Being able to turn your pain on and off, while something I'd be very envious of, would make us so, so fundamentally different as a species. It would change our medical field, our wars, our laws, our relationships, our art.

Touch is such an inherent part of any kind of close relationship for us. We're born with a need for it. Babies literally die without it. Of course we'd want to touch our new friends. To bond with them, to feel close to them, for reassurance and mutual enjoyment of their presence. Doubtless we could and would do that.

But would they view touch the same way? Would they need it? I know we see mechs hugging and touching, but..they're metal. That's kind of a lot of clanging. What sensation would they get out of it? What use would it have for them? What role would touch have played in their development – when they're not really a species that evolved, at all?

I know I go back to this a lot, but Therrae's Xenoethnography really was formative to me in a number of ways, and the mechs there just don't use touch, natively, in the way humans do. And they have to adapt to our ways, even as the human main character tries to adapt to theirs. That would include finding ways to bridge that gap and really communicate what we're trying to communicate in ways that make sense to us both, when we're trying to be physically close or vulnerable to foster those emotional bonds.

The real challenge, and the real crux of it all, is that. That we're both willing to try, to take risks. It takes courage to look at a being you're so different from, and be willing to climb in their hand or sit on their shoulder. It takes courage to engage in whatever alien means of physical communication they would use. It's also what's so beautiful about first contact. Not the failures, or the misunderstandings, or the differences, but the willingness to try and keep trying to build a third language we can both speak.

And then, to use that third language to say I love you, I trust you, I want to be with you.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

He Doesn't Deserve You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter Ten

Summary: Meeting his family is something you're not sure you should've agreed to...but there's no turning back now. Pairing: Noona reader x Jeon Jungkook (She's 28 and he's 22) Word Count: 1.8k~ (I'm sorry it's so short but it felt like a good place to stop) a/n: It's been way too long since I last updated this and I know the update is short but I feel like if I held onto this for any longer it would've take me forever to finish the rest of it but I hope you enjoy! Start from the beginning

The ride over to Jungkook's house is quiet, some might say silent, the only noise being the soft hum of the engine and the various sounds of cars passing by. 

"I hope you know they're going to love you" Jungkook whispers once our eta hits about ten minutes out, giving me a last second pep talk.

"What if they don't?" I mumble, my hands fisting the hem of my sweater, the turtle neck seeming so much tighter than it usually is, making me tug on the collar. Nervous fidgeting something I've been plagued with since I was a child. 

An unfortunately it seems like that's not about to change anytime soon.

He startles me when he places his hand over mine, slipping it under where my grip on the sweater is practically iron. I loosen up for him just enough to let his fingers lace through mine, bringing it up to his lips and placing a kiss on the back of my hand.

"You'll do great, and you can use me as a human shield if you need to. Although my sister will probably end up wiggling her way between us" he chuckles, imagining the scene now. 

"You still haven't told me much about them" I point out and he hums.

"My sister Jieun is six, my brother Jiwon is ten and then my oldest younger brother is Junseo who's twelve" he lists off as if they were a shopping list.

"Okay well that doesn't tell me much about them" I chuckle and he shrugs. "You'll learn more when we get there" he smiles softly at the thought of me meeting his family.

I sigh and close my eyes, quietly saying his siblings names under my breath so I can memorize them. He notices but doesn't say anything, placing another kiss on the back of my hand before letting go, opening the garage door so we can pull in.

He comes around to open my door for me and before I'm even able to get out the door to the garage flies open and Jieun runs out to greet us. 

"Jungkook Jungkook you took forever! Can you please help me make cookies tonight. Please? Mom bought the ingredients for them but she didn't have time to make them" she pouts once she gets to the end of the message that she's clearly been dying to say to him all day.

"Oh" she says softly when she notices me, hiding behind Jungkook and peeking out from behind him, holding onto his shirt making me smile.

"Sorry, she's a little shy" he chuckles bringing her out from behind him and crouching down to talk to her, her eyes still a little wary of me. "This is y/n, can you say hi?" he says, the soft tone he uses with her makes my heart flutter.

"Um, hi" she says, her loud and excitable behavior from when she first came out a distant memory. "Hi Jieun, it's nice to meet you" I say softly and her eyes light up a bit, surprised to see I already know her name. 

"Let's go inside so she can meet everyone" Jungkook says softly still and she nods, taking Jungkook's hand, with him instinctively reaching for mine which I take, my heart beating a million miles a minute. One down, three to go.

Once we enter we're met with a clean simple house, the low hum of the tv with Jiwon sitting in front of it soon catches my eye. 

"We're home" Jungkook calls out, immediately alerting everyone that he hasn't come home on his own making Jiwon's head turn. His eyes land on me first and then on Jungkook, then to our interlocked hands and he jumps up, making a bee line for the hallway. 

"Hey!" Jungkook calls out to him, but I chuckle and place a hand on his arm. "It's okay, kids get nervous around people they don't know". Despite my reassurance Jungkook still spares a glare down the hallway before turning back to Jieun.

"Where's mom?" he asks but she shrugs, "I dunno, maybe in her room? I'll go check!" she says and scurries down the same hallway her brother had disappeared down. 

"They look just like you" I smile, watching her disappear as well, my focus soon going back to him. "You should see Junseo, he's practically a carbon copy of me" he says, leading me over to the kitchen. "Well except for the fact that the kid is a wiz. Always in his room studying or reading. He's a freshman in high school already so he's got a lot of homework these days" he says and I pause at that. 

"You said he was only twelve though. Did he skip two grades or something?" I ask, my eyes gone wide at the thought of it. "Yeah, they let him skip third and fourth grade, figured they wouldn't be challenging enough for him" he smiles to himself, clearly proud of his little brother.

"Did you want something to drink?" he asks, grabbing a cup from the cabinet leaving me just requesting water and thanking him softly once he's handed it to me. 

"Come on! You have to see her! She's so pretty" I hear Jiwon's voice making me chuckle, already taking a shine to him. "I don't care about some girl. I need to finish my homework" what I assume is Junseo's voice following. 

"Hey" Jungkook says, his voice a lot sharper with the boys, making them freeze when they come into view, both of their eyes wide, going between Jungkook and I. 

I watch as a rosy blush blooms on their ears in embarrassment.

"Junseo come here" Jungkooks says, that sharp tone still present leaving Junseo's eyes turning down as he comes closer. "She's not just some girl. She is very important to me so I expect you to be respectful. Got it?" he scolds and Junseo nods, bowing to me slightly and mumbling an apology. 

"It's okay Junseo, you can go finish studying" I say and his head pops up, the blush now reaching his cheeks after hearing me speak to him. "Thank you" he says quickly, his voice cracking slightly leaving his eyes widening again, turning around and practically running back to his room. 

"That's funny, I've never seen him act like that before" Jungkook hums and I chuckle. "He really is your 'mini me'" I agree with his earlier statement  and he frowns. "Come on, I have a lot more game than he does" he scoffs and I nod.

"Yeah, but seems like you both have the same taste in older women" I say making him choke on air. His coughs make me chuckle, giving him the glass he had gotten me and rubbing his back while he drinks the water.

"I see that you're already making a fool of yourself in front of her" I hear an amused voice say behind me. I turn and see a woman with a tight slick back bun and a white pressed uniform, the confident way she carries herself leaving my eyes now the ones widening just a bit.

"Sorry mom" he coughs a few more times and clears his throat. "This is-" "It's so nice to finally meet you" she cuts him off, basically admitting to the fact that he's spoken about me enough for her to know exactly who I am.

"It's nice to meet you too Mrs. Jeon. Thank you for having me, you have a lovely home" I say and she smiles, a glint in her eye now helping me relax. 

"Thank you for coming to help with these little rascals. Jungkook looks practically torn to shreds by the time I get home most mornings but hopefully they won't give you too much trouble" she says, smoothing down Jieun's hair after she's stepped out from behind her mom, her posture now a little less wary.

"I'll do my best" I smile leaving her returning it, a little nod showing me that she believes in me. 

"You're welcome to stay the night if you'd like. I'm sure Jungkook will be a complete gentleman and sleep on the couch, right?" his mom says, directing her line of sight over to him, clearing his throat and nodding right away.

"And if he doesn't at least make sure what ever's done behind that closed door cannot be heard" she says after covering Jieun's ears leaving Jungkook choking again. "I'll make sure he behaves himself" I say and pat his back again, leaving her smiling. 

"I knew I liked you" she chuckles, excusing herself so she can gather all of her things before she goes to work. "Be good for Jungkook and y/n" she calls out to the three and they respond simultaneously with a 'Yes mom' making me smile at the clear routine of theirs.

"Be good" she directs a laser focus on Jungkook, and he nods. "Have a good night at work" he says and she smiles, satisfied with his response. 

"Thanks again" she says as her final farewell, this now directed at us both leaving the pair of us waving until she closes the door, Jungkook practically slumping against the counter, the tension he was clearly feeling leaving his body.

"You were more nervous than I was" I laugh, turning to face him and resting against the counter as well, his slumped form now straightening.

"You should've seen the way she's treated my past girlfriends on first meeting" he says, filling the glass he had taken from me with fresh water before handing it back to me. "How many girlfriends have you had?" I ask, taking a sip but keeping my eyes on him.

"Like three, no four or five...ish" he says, rubbing the back of his neck and a deep red blush reaching his cheeks. "You don't have any kids right?" I ask and smile when he gets even more panicked.

"No! No no no absolutely not" he shakes his head over and over. "I promise I really don't. In terms of calling them girlfriends it was always a little unclear. Like we got to the talking stage and then we'd spend some time together but then they'd get upset because I couldn't spend enough time with them and break up with me. Only three of them ended up meeting my family though" he explains and I nod. 

"I believe you" I smile, clearly showing I was joking, leaving him letting out a breath. "If I did I would've told you" he says softly and I nod. "I know" I smile again, this one softer, one reserved just for him and I can tell he can see the difference. 

I reach up and fix his hair, it having gotten quite ruffled in the process of convincing me his own bloodline so far has begun and ended with him.

He pulls me closer and buries his face in my neck, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist.

"What's this for?" I ask, holding him close as well. "I'm just really happy they like you" he mumbles just loud enough for me to hear, making me smile. "Me too" I say softly, the picture frame of their family of six behind him catching my eye, the last of which still being a mystery.

"Me too"

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[wandasaura]

bedtime with mommy wanda

warning(s) — mommy kink, bratting, praise kink, domestic dominance, stuffed animals, soft stern mommy wanda

“But, I’m not sleepy.” You argue, voice quiet, soft. There’s barely any fight left in you at all, but you manage. Somehow you always manage to find the energy to fight against her — at least a little bit; a healthy amount.

Wanda quirks an eyebrow. Her arms are folded over her chest. She’s leaning against the doorframe; nonchalant, composed — not unamused, but far from gleaming with radiance either. “Not sleepy, huh?” She tsks, clicks her tongue against her teeth. Sokovian curls around her vowels. Thick, heavy, comforting.

She’s baiting you. You don’t let yourself see it.

“No.” Your head shakes. Your hands reach out for a matted bunny rabbit that’s seen better days. “I’m not sleepy. Really.”

Your eyes are heavy. They burn, and you’re aware of it. Wanda’s aware of it. You blink at her slowly. Not dazedly, but sleepily. There’s a distinct difference. She makes sure you’re aware of that. Your stare is glassy too. Glazed over. She knows when your jaw twitches you’re fighting back a yawn.

Her head turns. She’d had it tilted before. The very top of her head resting against the entryway to the living room. It’s straight now, not weighted specifically toward either shoulder. Her eyes narrow. The light catches in flyaways she doesn’t care to take. “Did I ask, detka?” Smooth, sultry, prompting. She knows exactly how to get you eating out of the palm of her hand.

“No.” A whisper. Soft, breathy. It floats through the air between you; connects your souls a moment later without pause. “No, you didn’t ask.” You repeat fully, clearly, but it’s still soft. Like butterfly wings. All promise, blind obedience, no will to fight remaining. Wanda likes clarity. She likes knowing you understand. You find a way to give that to her when you can.

“That’s right. I didn’t.” She hums. She messes with the bangs falling over her forehead. They’re wispy right now. They need to be shampooed, blown dry, styled meticulously. Now’s not the time. She prompted you to bed twenty minutes ago. “So what are we going to do?” Another quirked eyebrow, another bold stroke of faded Sokovian.

“Get up?” It’s a question, only because you’re not sure of the answer. You’re not sure of anything that she hasn’t told you explicitly, and you hadn’t been ready or willing to listen the first time she’d spoken so softly and sweetly at you from the hallway.

“Yeah, that’s how we’re going to start.” She hums, not willing to bite, to give into your turn of obedience so quickly. There’s twenty three minutes between when she’d asked you to get up kindly, and when your body actually began to move now. One slip of blind submission will not undo anything at all, no matter how dazed you’re becoming untouched. “Get up.”

“Okay.” The word falls off your lips. It’s all you can think of. Wanda doesn’t push for more. She nods once, and her body turns towards the bathroom.

“Bring Bunny to bed.” She says, perhaps demands. You can’t make sense of it, or convince yourself that there’s fondness there too, so instead you move on numb feet and keep hold of Bunny’s flimsy arm, fingernails caught in the matted cream-colored fur. “Did you hear me?” She changes her tone, even though you follow behind her with a tight grip on Bunny.

“Yes.” You whisper, voice hush, gentle. You’re so utterly soft, so pliant beneath her fingers that haven’t swept across your skin.

Wanda doesn’t bristle. Your softness is cute, sweet, so refreshing after her day, but you were so bratty, so filled with spite and energy that you channeled at her. “So then acknowledge me.” She clips, and your heart skins, but you don’t comment. Your hold on Bunny tightens, yes, but you accept it.

“I’m bringing Bunny.” You tell her, lashes batting, both sleepily and dazedly. You stumble on your feet, caught up in the blur of darkness. A warm hand finds your waist, fingers beneath the hem of your tank top, calloused palm resting on the waistband of your pajama shorts. It’s a claiming hold. An unconscious act of stability. She has you, even if you’d tested her in every way imaginable before you came to your senses.

Wanda hums, and you shake, soft and silent, but she feels it. Her lips pull upward, but she guides you through the motions like you haven’t been redeemed. What you don’t know gives her the upper hand, and she’s inclined to see how you handle this deadlock.

The bathroom is left behind, and Bunny is only slightly damp from when he was forced to sit on the counter as a witness, and your heart is still heavy, and Wanda still remains giving you only the necessary amount of attention to assure you don’t feel abandoned. It’s still cold even when she’s so warm. It still hurts even when there’s no hand coming down in an unforgiving blow.

“Get in bed.” She directs, and you can’t take it anymore. You sink into the sheets, the ones that you’d picked out in the spring, and a pout pulls so tightly at your lips that it almost aches.

“Mommy?” You question, because your head is so floaty, and your belly is so filled with sadness, that it only feels right, and maybe if your head was clearer, you’d recognize this was her goal all along. She needs this too.

“Yes, detka?” She asks, eyebrow raised, body warm as it sinks into the mattress and pulls you in tight and close. Her heart beats unevenly. She’s cool, calm, collected on the outside undeniably, but she’s never truly unaffected when you’re around — close enough to smell, and kiss, and feel so intimately.

Your lip trembles, your hands curl into her t-shirt. “I’m sorry for being a brat?” A question again, because you’ll do anything to get it right this time, to really make up for what you’d done to push her to her limit with you.

“Yeah?” She holds out, keeps strong. Your eyes become wet with glimmering tears that only add to the string, reminding you that you are tired, you’ve been tired since before she’d even called you to bed. “You’re not just saying that?”

“No! I’m not just saying that!” Your head shakes desperately, your hand curls tight around Bunny.

Her expression melts, just slightly, just enough to let you know she understands. “Okay malysh. Close those eyes now.”

There’s nothing left in you. Your eyes close, but your lips still move sleepily. “Okay.” You comply, half-asleep, already so far gone.

“Good girl.” She praises softly, and that’s all it takes to end your night, sleep overcoming you entirely as her arms encase around your waist.

[holoska]

after debating for weeks whether to stay very far away from the deltarune soriel discourse or let myself ramble about my faves like I want to, the latter has finally won out

I've had time to properly absorb the weight of all that happens at the end of chapter 4, and obviously I do feel for both kris and susie. that is The Point of the scenes being from their perspectives; after everything they just went through and all the worry they had for toriel's safety (for the second time in 24 hours!), the scene they come home to is maybe the most uncomfortable slap in the face possible. it sticks out to me that the last thing susie talks about before the dark fountain is sealed is her wanting tomorrow to be the same as yesterday and for everything to always be able to go back to how it was, and that's what greets them - a blatant, obnoxious sign that things are changing. even though the scene has a lighthearted side, its overall tone adds to the downcast feeling the chapter ends on.

having said that, as someone who has spent the past 9 and a half years being normal about sans and toriel, I'm still very very happy that this is a canon scene we got 💜

the fandom may be largely not considering their perspectives in the slightest (or worse, only viewing their perspectives from the most bad faith angles possible), but I for one love this for them!! as other very good posts have pointed out, toriel has been sorely in need of someone who's there for her - an awful lot of people in town saw the divorce play out and have something to say about it, the holiday family are closer to asgore than toriel, kris is her child and stuck in the middle of their parents' issues, and while she's friends with alphys, them being coworkers and alphys being kris' teacher likely puts a distance of sorts between them. but sans is new in town, someone she immediately connects with, who has no pre-existing opinions about her family and has seen firsthand what toriel has to put up with from asgore. in every universe, sans is exactly the kind of person toriel needs in her life.

there's less to work with from sans' perspective given how little we know about him, and I'm not all-in on sans being from deltarune just yet (more specifically I do love the theory, I'm just giving myself room to not be too disappointed if it doesn't happen), but the new version of it's raining somewhere else being named 'the place where it rained' emotionally destroys me forever. either way it drives home just how happy toriel makes sans in both worlds and I love that so so much :']

to be clear I'm not saying they did nothing wrong, their choices negatively impacted kris and susie and they were objectively disruptive and inconsiderate after kris went to bed. but I like that they're being messy and flawed, because it means this isn't just "my faves are getting closer in the background yippee" but that their relationship is potentially an actual part of the story, and that's how you get The Good Stuff!! we wouldn't have had meaningful character moments like noelle finally standing up to queen if queen hadn't tried to control noelle and just listened to her from the start, or susie comforting ralsei with her bloodied hand if he'd told her and kris every detail of the full prophecy the moment he met them and never kept any secrets. if all the hints towards a flower shop dark world turn out to be true then it's pretty clear the story is building things up to make those future character moments hit, and considering we still don't know what happened with the dreemurr divorce at this point, chapter 5 seems like a perfect opportunity to dive into all of that.

plus, as sweet as susie's bond with toriel is, I honestly think susie seeing this side of toriel needed to happen. a lot of the fandom's complaints about toriel right now boil down to her not being the "perfect mother" they thought she was, and what bothers me about that is toriel was never meant to be that kind of character. toby has said that she's not the classic video game protagonist's mother who sees you off on your journey and you can come home and visit any time, and nothing changes and she never has any substantial character of her own. in undertale she literally handholds frisk through the tutorial, she becomes the first boss in her attempt to protect them when every other human left her care, and once they leave she won't let them come back or even call her phone because she can't face seeing them knowing they'll leave again and likely be killed. she's more than just the mother figure of the game, she's her own person with likes and dislikes, hobbies and flaws, and a past and trauma she can't overcome until the best ending.

we've only seen the tip of the iceberg of her history in deltarune, but that same principle holds true: she isn't the perfect parent you return to after each day's adventure, who gives you butterscotch pancakes every morning and never has any real part in the story because that isn't the intent behind her character. she mentioned her loneliness back in chapter 1, kris has secrets and problems they aren't letting her in on, asgore is being relentlessly inconsiderate of her boundaries, and for all susie's praise of toriel being a good mother, I think that house of cards was going to fall eventually. my hope is that, like her blowing up at ralsei ultimately bringing them closer, susie being able to see toriel as the imperfect adult she is but one who does genuinely care might help them build a stronger bond in the end too.

I think I always knew that if soriel ever inched closer to being canon there'd be discourse about it, and toriel slander is unfortunately nothing new. people are just being annoying about it currently and it sucks when I genuinely love what's being built up here!!

anyway crossing my fingers for a scene where toriel invites sans to the festival before she gets thrown in the bunker/he gets sent to undertale/the roaring happens/all of the above 🤞