Reblogged
Reblogged
THE DOLLMAKER ˒˒ 박성훈 ▸ 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲!
you were sunghoon’s muse, his flawless, perfect wife that he dresses in frilly dresses and makes sure you always looked like the idealized woman. that much was evident from all the dolls he made of you that sat proudly throughout your home. but, when sunghoon isn’t there, the dolls move and show you things that would otherwise be hidden in the shadows. one day, they show you something so frightening, something completely sinister that you force yourself to believe that it isn’t real. your beloved husband wouldn’t do something like that, would he? you weren’t so sure about your answer anymore.
pairing ⸝⸝ park sunghoon 𝑥 fem!reader 𓄵 𝓯eat. ꔛ 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦!
genre ⋆ 📓 ⸝⸝ established relationship, angsty & mature themes, smut, some fluff, husband & dollmaker!sunghoon, gothic vibes, supernatural elements
warnings ⸝⸝ dark content, heavy dubcon, dollification, mentions of murder and kidnapping, really creepy dolls, sunghoon is actually insane lmao, heavy gaslighting, possessiveness, unprotected sex, soft dom!sunghoon, heavy body worship, slow sex to rough sex and back to soft sex (you’ll see), manhandling, handjob, cumshots, clit stimulation, fingering, brief somnophilia, slight dacryphilia, mentions of oral (f. rec), praise, petnames (my love, darling, doll), hair pulling (m. rec), cockwarming, a lot of skinship, teasing, brief nipple play, mentions of aftercare, they are very very codependent, traditional marriage aspects
𝓴ipo’s note ⸝⸝ went a bit insane writing this because why is the smut scene alone 5.4k words??? but it’s finally here!! my first post on my new blog (that’s not part of a series) and my first darker content fic!! this was really fun to write and opened a primal lust within me for sunghoon that made me crazier… hehe enjoy loves!!
͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏ ͏ ❨ 14.8k ❩ ╱ ❨ 𝓶. list ❩ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ︵͡ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (´ε｀ʃƪ)♡
You always strived to be nothing short of perfect, and you were immensely proud at the fact that you have never strayed from the path of the idealized woman in the eyes of their beholder.
And you were perfect. The perfect person, the perfect woman, the perfect wife. It was what you were born and bred to be, and with a smile you lived your life knowing that not a single frizzy strand of hair was out of place nor was there a single wrinkle in your dress. You were pretty, pristine, perfect. You’d ask for nothing more.
But, as the days started to pass—and your husband was out later and later for work—you started to hate the idea of perfection. You clawed at it like a noose wrapped around your pretty throat. Gone were the days where you’d be set alight with how well you presented yourself—with how much your husband loved to stare at you. These days, you just wanted to be.
DAMNNN THIS WAS INSANEEE HOLY SHIT THIS FIC IS A MASTERPIECE
Reblogged
little miss grumpy
♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡
"Jay, I swear, this place is a maze," you groaned, rubbing your lower back as you waddled through the never-ending labyrinth of IKEA. The bright lights and warehouse ceilings seemed determined to drain whatever energy you had left. At nearly eight months pregnant, your feet were swollen, and all you wanted was to sit down and sip on something cold.
"Just a few more things, sweetheart," Jay murmured, his hand gently resting on the small of your back. "Then we’ll head to the cafeteria, I promise. I hear the ice cream’s only a dollar."
You gave him a tired smile, the thought of that creamy vanilla treat motivating you. But there was one more thing — your energetic, headstrong three-year-old daughter.
"Where's our little monster?" you asked, scanning the area.
Jay's gaze softened as he pointed to the corner of the kids' section. There, sprawled out on a tiny IKEA toddler bed, your daughter had tucked herself beneath the miniature duvet, her little body rising and falling in peaceful slumber. The colourful cartoon sheets and plush pillows must've been too tempting to resist.
"Oh, no," Jay whispered with a smirk. "She made herself at home."
"She gets it from you," you teased, thinking of how Jay had stolen the blankets in bed.
"Mm, maybe," he grinned, then sighed. "But I do not have to wake her up."
Your eyes widened. "Oh no, no. You’re on daddy duty. I’m claiming exhaustion rights." You plopped down on one of the display couches dramatically.
Jay chuckled but didn’t argue. He approached the bed, kneeling beside his daughter. "Hey, baby girl," he whispered, brushing her wispy strands away from her flushed cheeks. "Time to get up, missy."
A soft whimper left her lips as she snuggled deeper into the pillow. "No, Daddy."
"C'mon, bub," he cooed, rubbing her back. "We gotta go pay for our things. You can’t stay here."
Her little eyes fluttered open, squinting at him with the most prominent pout. "But it’s my bed," she mumbled, groggy. "Comfy bed."
Jay sighed, his heart breaking a little. "I know, baby. But we have to go now. We’ll get something yummy, okay? Maybe fries and ice cream?"
"No!" she wailed, her face scrunching in frustration. "No fries! No ice cream! Just bed!"
Her cries grew louder, drawing a few curious glances from nearby shoppers. You rubbed your belly, fighting the urge to step in, but Jay gave you a reassuring glance. He could handle this.
"Alright, little miss grumpy," Jay murmured, scooping her up despite her flailing limbs. "I’ve got you. Daddy’s got you."
"Daddy, no!" she sobbed, her tiny fists thumping weakly against his chest. Tears streamed down her face, her tantrum in full force. "I want a comfy bed!"
"I know, I know," Jay soothed, rocking her gently as he carried her. "But we’re almost done, princess. I promise."
Her cries didn’t stop, but Jay didn’t falter. His arms stayed strong, his voice low and calming. Even as her wails echoed through the store, he remained patient — the picture of a loving father.
When you reached the cafeteria, you had already claimed a table, resting your aching feet. Jay approached with your still-sniffling toddler in his arms. He kissed the top of her head before setting her down into the chair beside you.
"Hey, baby," you cooed, brushing the damp curls away from her face. "Guess what? Daddy said we could get ice cream and fries. Doesn’t that sound yummy?"
Her red-rimmed eyes blinked up at you, her lip still trembling. "Ice cream?"
Jay crouched to her level, his large hands cradling her tiny ones. "Yeah, bub. The best vanilla ice cream. And we’ll get fries, too. Only if my big girl feels better."
Her pout lingered for a moment longer before she gave a slow, reluctant nod. "Okay... but I want the biggest one."
Jay chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Deal, baby girl."
Soon enough, Jay returned with a small cup of creamy vanilla ice cream and a side of golden fries. The toddler’s tears were forgotten as she happily nibbled on her fries and licked her ice cream with a satisfied hum.
"Yummy," she mumbled, her earlier meltdown now a distant memory.
Jay smiled, reaching over to squeeze your hand. "We survived IKEA," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Barely," you laughed softly, leaning against his shoulder.
As your daughter giggled through sticky ice cream fingers and salty fries, you couldn’t help but think—chaotic as it was—these moments made life so sweet.
Jay brushed a few stray crumbs from her cheeks as your little girl contentedly munched on her fries. Her face was still slightly puffy from all the crying, but the joy of ice cream had done wonders. The IKEA cafeteria buzzed around you — chatter from other families, the clinking of trays, and the soft hum of the coffee machines.
“You’re doing okay, sweetheart?” Jay’s voice was low, soft, just for you. His thumb traced lazy circles over the back of your hand, the warmth of his touch grounding you.
“I’m okay,” you answered, though your body told a different story. Every inch of you ached, and the pressure from carrying your second child was almost unbearable today. But even through the exhaustion, you felt grateful. “Just tired.”
Jay nodded, his eyes full of understanding. “I should’ve carried you, too,” he teased slightly.
“Oh, yeah? Think you could handle carrying both of us?” You gestured between yourself and the little girl, joyfully dipping a fry into her ice cream — a strange but adorable mix of salty and sweet.
He chuckled, though his gaze softened. “I’d carry all three of you if I had to.”
The words lingered for a moment, warmth spreading through your chest. Even when things got chaotic — like tantrums in IKEA — Jay was your anchor.
"Mommy, look!" your daughter exclaimed, her sticky hands thrusting her cup forward, a small glob of melted ice cream dangerously close to tipping over. "All gone!"
“You finished it already?” You gasped dramatically, making her giggle. “That was fast, baby!”
She grinned wide, though her face was still smeared with traces of vanilla. Jay shook his head with amusement, grabbing a napkin to wipe her face gently.
“All clean,” he announced with a proud grin.
“Daddy,” she giggled, wiggling in her seat. “I’m not a baby.”
“Not a baby? Says the little miss who cried for her comfy bed like one?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.
Her mouth opened in an exaggerated gasp. “I was not a baby! I was a… a big girl!”
Jay leaned closer, poking her belly playfully. “A big girl, huh?”
She erupted into laughter, her earlier tantrum now just a distant memory. Moments like these — the laughter, the sweetness, the unwavering patience — reminded you why Jay was such an incredible father.
But the day wasn’t over yet.
"Okay, little miss grumpy," Jay said, lifting her effortlessly from the highchair. "We’ve got one more mission."
Her eyes lit up. "Mission?"
"Yup. Help Mommy and Daddy get to the car without any more meltdowns. Think you can do it?"
She scrunched her nose in determination, her arms wrapping around Jay’s neck. “I can do it!”
You chuckled as you slowly stood, the weight of your belly making even the most minor movements feel like a marathon. Jay was quick to steady you, his hand never leaving yours.
"Lean on me, babe," he murmured.
"I always do," you whispered back, a small smile tugging at your lips.
With your daughter happily perched on Jay’s hip, you made your way toward the IKEA exit, the remnants of a long shopping day following behind. Bags of flat-packed furniture, a half-empty cup of ice cream, and the echoes of a tantrum that would become a funny story one day.
And through it all, Jay’s hand is yours. Always.
requested by @jalicecookie
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SOOO CUTIEEEE
Reblogged dirtysvthoughts
I GOT A FUCKING RAISE THE POTATO WORKED WTF
This potato works. Every. Fucking. Time.
Reblogging because it’s a damn potato and I want to encourage people to assume potatoes are magical.
🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻
Reblogged
Source: youtu.be
Reblogged
this was home.
As soon as the last spoonful of sweet potatoes was gone, the baby blinked at the empty jar before her bottom lip jutted out. A tiny, whimpery complaint left her mouth, her chubby fists clenching as if she couldn’t believe the betrayal.
Sunghoon smirked. “It’s over, chunkinator.”
She whined again, wiggling in his arms, but before she could get too grumpy, he glanced up and saw you at the counter, warming up her bottle. “Don’t worry, baby,” you called softly. “Milky is coming.”
The baby immediately perked up at the mention of milk, big round eyes following your every move. Sunghoon huffed out a small chuckle, adjusting her in the crook of his arm.
“You act like you’re starving,” he murmured, brushing his fingers gently against her cheek.
She stared up at him, blinking, her expression soft and expectant—utterly unaware of how much power she had over his heart.
When you finally returned with her bottle, Sunghoon took it from you quickly, bringing the warm nipple to her lips. She latched on immediately, letting out a deep, contented sigh as she began drinking.
Sunghoon relaxed into the chair, one hand holding the bottle while the other rested against her tiny belly. She wasn’t drifting off like she usually did. Instead, her big eyes stayed open, watching everything around her—watching him, watching you, occasionally shifting her gaze toward her big sister, who was humming to herself at the table.
Then, her little fingers reached out with a soft, sleepy movement.
Sunghoon watched as she stretched her tiny hand toward him, her fingers curling and uncurling, searching. He let her grab onto his finger, and immediately, she held tight, gripping him like she needed that little reassurance.
You smiled as you watched. “She always has to hold someone’s hand while eating or drinking.”
Sunghoon glanced at you, then back at the baby, whose fingers were still wrapped around his own. His heart swelled. “She’s clingy,” he murmured, but his tone was fond.
Your daughter leaned over, resting her chin in her hands as she peeked at her little sister. “She love-love,” she said.
Sunghoon’s chest warmed at that. He gently squeezed the baby’s tiny hand, his thumb brushing her soft skin.
“Yeah,” he murmured, watching as she blinked at him with those sleepy, trusting eyes.
“She does.”
As Sunghoon sat there, still feeding the baby her bottle, he suddenly heard an excited little voice from across the kitchen.
“Mama, can I have, pwease!”
He glanced up just in time to see your toddler standing on her tiptoes, peering eagerly at the counter where you were preparing something. Her hands were clasped in front of her chest, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. All he could see were her bouncing pigtails behind the counter’s height.
You chuckled, reaching for the bowl. “We’re almost done, sweetheart.”
Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “What’s she asking for?”
Your daughter turned to him with the biggest grin. “Ice cream! With the hot brownie!” she announced proudly.
Ah. Of course. His little sweet tooth.
“You didn’t even eat all your dinner,” Sunghoon teased, watching as she gasped dramatically as if the thought of missing out on dessert was too much to bear.
“I did eat!” she insisted, stomping her little foot before turning back to you with her most angelic expression. “Right, Mama?”
You laughed, shaking your head as you carefully placed a warm, gooey brownie in a bowl before scooping some vanilla ice cream. The hot brownie and ice cream contrast made your daughter excitedly squeal.
“Okay, okay,” you said, handing her the small bowl and spoon. “Just be careful—it’s still warm.”
She took it in both hands, eyes wide with delight. “Fank you, Mama!” she chirped before skipping over to the table, carefully balancing her dessert.
Sunghoon smirked as he watched her. “I swear she gets cuter every day.”
“She knows how to use it to her advantage,” you joked, sitting beside him. “Did you hear that little ‘please’? She knew exactly what she was doing.”
Sunghoon chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, well. Guess I can’t blame her.”
The baby, now finished with her bottle, let out a satisfied little sigh, resting her head against Sunghoon’s chest. But even with her eyes drooping, she stretched her hand out again—this time, toward you.
You immediately reached for her, letting her tiny fingers wrap around yours. She let out a soft, happy hum, her grip still strong despite her sleepiness.
“She needs to hold someone’s hand again?” you whispered.
Sunghoon nodded, a fond smile playing on his lips. “Always.”
And so, with your older daughter happily eating her ice cream and brownie and your little chunkinator drifting off in Sunghoon’s arms, your home was filled with warmth, love, and the quiet, beautiful moments that made life feel complete.
Sunghoon carefully passed the baby to you, ensuring she was comfortable in your arms before standing up and stretching a little. With a soft sigh, he walked over to where his toddler was happily munching on her ice cream and brownie.
Her little legs swung under the chair, and she was too focused on scooping up the perfect bite to notice Sunghoon sitting beside her—until he reached over with a napkin and gently wiped the smudged chocolate crumbs from the corners of her mouth.
She blinked up at him, cheeks full, lips sticky with chocolate. “Daddy!” she giggled, pulling back slightly.
Sunghoon smirked. “What?”
“I wanna do it myself!” she declared, reaching for the napkin.
“Oh yeah?” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, holding it just out of reach. “But if you could do it yourself, why do you still have chocolate all over your face?”
She scrunched up her nose, pretending to think. Then, before Sunghoon could react, she quickly licked around her lips, attempting to clean them herself.
Sunghoon let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Nice try, but you’re still messy.”
Before she could protest, he reached for her bib and fastened it around her neck. “Just in case,” he said, patting it gently.
She pouted, poking at it. “I’m big girl, Daddy. I don’t need a bib.”
Sunghoon gave her a knowing look. “That’s what you said last time, and then you got chocolate on your jammies.”
She looked down at her bowl, pretending not to hear him, and focused on taking another bite.
You, still cradling the baby, chuckled from the other side of the table. “She got that stubborn streak from you.”
Sunghoon scoffed. “Me? No way.”
You shot him a playful look, but before you could argue, your toddler suddenly let out a loud, happy hum, her mouth full of ice cream and brownie.
“Mmm!” she mumbled, eyes twinkling. “Dis is so good!”
Sunghoon smiled, watching the pure joy on her face. He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah? You like it?”
She nodded enthusiastically, flashing him a chocolate-covered smile. “Fank you, Daddy.”
His heart melted on the spot. With a soft chuckle, he leaned down and kissed her head. “Anything for you, baby.”
You sighed happily, rocking the baby in your arms as she clung to your finger. Watching them together—watching Sunghoon care effortlessly for your daughter—filled you with warmth.
This was home.
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