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#like a common thought i have at work is 'there are too many hours in the day'
iamthecomet · 22 hours
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it's a missing Aether day here, trying to comfort myself with thoughts of Aether with arms wide open to welcome back his pack with all the hugs and kisses they could ever want, I miss our big boi sm, I need little domestic thoughts to keep me sane 😭
It is always missing Aether (and Sunny) hours. I think he keeps busy when they're gone. Working a lot at the infirmary. Learning new skills he can try out on them when they get home. New recipies, learning a new craft, he can't wait to show Cumulus the little crochet things he's been making, tending to Mountain's plants with almost as much care an attention as Mountain himself. Making sure he feeds the little cat Dew is pretending he hasn't adopted (it still lives outside in the cemetery, but Dew named it, so it's pretty much over). Just think about how he'd wait for them to get home. Bouncing on the balls of his feet as he watches the vans pull up the driveway. Rocking back and forth, barely containing his excitement. He'd hug all of them in turn. Sweeping most of them off of their feet in a crushing hug. Inhaling the scent of them. All of them smelling a little off--like hotels and weird soap--but still like them. Holding them close so they can feel just how much he loves and missed them. I bet he and Sunny made dinner too. That after their exhausted bandmates are hugged and kissed and have gotten inside and had a shower in their own bathroom for the first time in months, Aether ushers them all into the dining room. And he and Sunny feed them. Nothing too extravagant. They're all so tired. Excited to be home, exuberent. Full of that sort of relaxed energy you get when you step back into your space after a long time away--but still tired. And Aether doesn't want to make that worse. He doesn't want to overwhelm. So they make light comfort food. Salads and roasted vegetables with veggies fresh from Mountain's gardens. Pasta with olive oil and a little cheese and a lot of salt and pepper. Cheese boards and fruit boards, and lots of fresh bread. Decadent, but simple. And they could all go back to their own beds after dinner. Sleep in their own sheets after so many months. But you know, instead, they all end up cuddled in the common room. A movie on the TV that none of them are watching. Aether stuck right in the middle of them (Sunny too, honestly. Both of them being squished in the best way by their pack), his arms curled around two ghouls while another naps on his chest.
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hecksupremechips · 2 years
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What I’d give for a wealthy middle aged business woman named Janice who eats cigarettes and hates her husband to have an affair with me, the strange janitor boy who works at her firm that’s half her age and treats her like a person and not a robot
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Fatigue is among the most common and most disabling of long COVID’s symptoms, and a signature of similar chronic illnesses such as myalgic encephalomyelitis (also known as chronic fatigue syndrome or ME/CFS). But in these diseases, fatigue is so distinct from everyday weariness that most of the people I have talked with were unprepared for how severe, multifaceted, and persistent it can be.
For a start, this fatigue isn’t really a single symptom; it has many faces. It can weigh the body down: Lisa Geiszler likens it to “wearing a lead exoskeleton on a planet with extremely high gravity, while being riddled with severe arthritis.” It can rev the body up: Many fatigued people feel “wired and tired,” paradoxically in fight-or-flight mode despite being utterly depleted. It can be cognitive: Thoughts become sluggish, incoherent, and sometimes painful—like “there’s steel wool stuck in my frontal lobe,” Gwynn Dujardin, a literary historian with ME, told me.
Fatigue turns the most mundane of tasks into an “agonizing cost-benefit analysis,” Misko said. If you do laundry, how long will you need to rest to later make a meal? If you drink water, will you be able to reach the toilet? Only a quarter of long-haulers have symptoms that severely limit their daily activities, but even those with “moderate” cases are profoundly limited. Julia Moore Vogel, a program director at Scripps Research, still works, but washing her hair, she told me, leaves her as exhausted as the long-distance runs she used to do.
And though normal fatigue is temporary and amenable to agency—even after a marathon, you can will yourself into a shower, and you’ll feel better after sleeping—rest often fails to cure the fatigue of long COVID or ME/CFS. “I wake up fatigued,” Letícia Soares, who has long COVID, told me.
Between long COVID, ME/CFS, and other energy-limiting chronic illnesses, millions of people in the U.S. alone experience debilitating fatigue. But American society tends to equate inactivity with immorality, and productivity with worth. Faced with a condition that simply doesn’t allow people to move—even one whose deficits can be measured and explained—many doctors and loved ones default to disbelief. When Soares tells others about her illness, they usually say, “Oh yeah, I’m tired too.” When she was bedbound for days, people told her, “I need a weekend like that.” Soares’s problems are very real, and although researchers have started to figure out why so many people like her are suffering, they don’t yet know how to stop it.
Post-exertional malaise, or PEM, is the defining trait of ME/CFS and a common feature of long COVID. It is often portrayed as an extreme form of fatigue, but it is more correctly understood as a physiological state in which all existing symptoms burn more fiercely and new ones ignite. Beyond fatigue, people who get PEM might also feel intense radiant pain, an inflammatory burning feeling, or gastrointestinal and cognitive problems: “You feel poisoned, flu-ish, concussed,” Misko said. And where fatigue usually sets in right after exertion, PEM might strike hours or days later, and with disproportionate ferocity. Even gentle physical or mental effort might lay people out for days, weeks, months. Visiting a doctor can precipitate a crash, and so can filling out applications for disability benefits—or sensing bright lights and loud sounds, regulating body temperature on hot days, or coping with stress. And if in fatigue your batteries feel drained, in PEM they’re missing entirely. It’s the annihilation of possibility: Most people experience the desperation of being unable to move only in nightmares, Dujardin told me. “PEM is like that, but much more painful.”
Medical professionals generally don’t learn about PEM during their training. Many people doubt its existence because it is so unlike anything that healthy people endure. Mary Dimmock told me that she understood what it meant only when she saw her son, Matthew, who has ME/CFS, crash in front of her eyes. “He just melted,” Dimmock said. But most people never see such damage because PEM hides those in the midst of it from public view. And because it usually occurs after a delay, people who experience PEM might appear well to friends and colleagues who then don’t witness the exorbitant price they later pay.
Oller thinks this dismissal arises because PEM inverts the dogma that exercise is good for you—an adage that, for most other illnesses, is correct. “It’s not easy to change what you’ve been doing your whole career, even when I tell someone that they might be harming their patients,” she said. Indeed, many long-haulers get worse because they don’t get enough rest in their first weeks of illness, or try to exercise through their symptoms on doctors’ orders.
People with PEM are also frequently misdiagnosed. They’re told that they’re deconditioned from being too sedentary, when their inactivity is the result of frequent crashes, not the cause. They’re told that they’re depressed and unmotivated, when they are usually desperate to move and either physically incapable of doing so or using restraint to avoid crashing. Oller is part of a support group of 1,500 endurance athletes with long COVID who are well used to running, swimming, and biking through pain and tiredness. “Why would we all just stop?” she asked.
Some patients with energy-limiting illnesses argue that the names of their diseases and symptoms make them easier to discredit. Fatigue invites people to minimize severe depletion as everyday tiredness. Chronic fatigue syndrome collapses a wide-ranging disabling condition into a single symptom that is easy to trivialize. These complaints are valid, but the problem runs deeper than any name.
Dujardin, the English professor who is (very slowly) writing a cultural history of fatigue, thinks that our concept of it has been impoverished by centuries of reductionism. As the study of medicine slowly fractured into anatomical specialties, it lost an overarching sense of the systems that contribute to human energy, or its absence. The concept of energy was (and still is) central to animistic philosophies, and though once core to the Western world, too, it is now culturally associated with quackery and pseudoscience. “There are vials of ‘energy boosters’ by every cash register in the U.S.,” Dujardin said, but when the NIH convened a conference on the biology of fatigue in 2021, “specialists kept observing that no standard definition exists for fatigue, and everyone was working from different ideas of human energy.” These terms have become so unhelpfully unspecific that our concept of “fatigue” can encompass a wide array of states including PEM and idleness, and can be heavily influenced by social forces—in particular the desire to exploit the energy of others.
As the historian Emily K. Abel notes in Sick and Tired: An Intimate History of Fatigue, many studies of everyday fatigue at the turn of the 20th century focused on the weariness of manual laborers, and were done to find ways to make those workers more productive. During this period, fatigue was recast from a physiological limit that employers must work around into a psychological failure that individuals must work against. “Present-day society stigmatizes those who don’t Push through; keep at it; show grit,” Dujardin said, and for the sin of subverting those norms, long-haulers “are not just disbelieved but treated openly with contempt.” Fatigue is “profoundly anti-capitalistic,” Jaime Seltzer, the director of scientific and medical outreach at the advocacy group MEAction, told me.
Energy-limiting illnesses also disproportionately affect women, who have long been portrayed as prone to idleness. Dujardin notes that in Western epics, women such as Circe and Dido were perceived harshly for averting questing heroes such as Odysseus and Aeneas with the temptation of rest. Later, the onset of industrialization turned women instead into emblems of homebound idleness while men labored in public. As shirking work became a moral failure, it also remained a feminine one.
Some COVID long-haulers do recover. But several studies have found that, so far, most don’t fully return to their previous baseline, and many who become severely ill stay that way. This pool of persistently sick people is now mired in the same neglect that has long plagued those who suffer from illnesses such as ME/CFS. Research into such conditions are grossly underfunded, so no cures exist. Very few doctors in the U.S. know how to treat these conditions, and many are nearing retirement, so patients struggle to find care. Long-COVID clinics exist but vary in quality: Some know nothing about other energy-limiting illnesses, and still prescribe potentially harmful and officially discouraged treatments such as exercise. Clinicians who better understand these illnesses know that caution is crucial. When Putrino works with long-haulers to recondition their autonomic nervous system, he always starts as gently as possible to avoid triggering PEM. Such work “isn’t easy and isn’t fast,” he said, and it usually means stabilizing people instead of curing them.
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Ed Yong's follow up to his previous piece on post-COVID brain fog published last year:
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userlando · 10 months
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a different light — max verstappen
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max verstappen x fem!reader [6.9k] summary: you weren’t just friends. friends didn’t touch you the way he did (or the one where max has an epiphany and realizes he's in love with his best friend) warnings: 18+ explicit smut, idiots in love, friends to lovers a/n: idk what it is with me and writing fics at work, but here i am again. i had SO much fun writing this so I hope you enjoy reading this ♡
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Max hadn’t experienced many moments where he felt true and utter bliss, especially when he was growing up. His home life made it hard, and he’d rejected any type of positive feelings for a long time until you came along. You’d been a force to be reckoned with, matching Max’s energy so well that it wasn’t hard to build a solid friendship that would last for as long as it did.
He found comfort in your soft skin, in your reassuring smile. Even in the way your voice would get all high pitched when you told a white lie. You’d been his one true pillar when his career went from karting to racing, becoming a known household name in the chaos of it all. You’d kept his feet on the ground when he needed it most, and there was no amount of money to ever repay you for everything you’d done for him, and you vice versa.
So, he found comfort in a lot of things when it came to you. But you, sitting close to him when you had so many seats and chairs to choose from? That was everything.
You had claimed the two-seater for yourselves, but it didn’t stop you from snuggling right up to your best friend’s side with his arm around you and your head comfortably resting on his pectoral. It was a common occurence, you so deeply embedded in his arms that it might as well have been a permanent shape of you on his skin. Max had grown up with you, so he'd basically memorized the smell of your shampoo that you'd used since you were fifteen, the freckles and moles on your face and how goosebumps rose on your skin at the slightest cold breeze because that's who you were.
He'd naively thought it to be normal, to be so in tune with his best friend and it wasn't until he'd entered early adulthood and actually spent time with his friends on the grid that he realized that maybe it wasn't usual.
He still remembered the day he'd brought you along for the Baku Grand Prix and you'd mentioned being childhood friends in a passing conversation, registering the sheer looks of confusion coming from his friends. It had made him flush, a little embarrassed and a little confused until Daniel had hooked an arm around his shoulders and murmured I've been going around for three months thinking she was your girlfriend, man.
Max had shoved his friend and pulled a face, the usual ‘gross, she’s like a sister’ phrase on his tongue that he couldn’t quite bring himself to say. But it had stuck with him for the rest of that day, and the more he thought about it, the more Daniel was probably right in thinking so.
Max couldn't pinpoint what exactly had shifted after that day, but he knew that something had changed. He became hyper aware of your touches and lingering looks, your ability to flirt but still toe the line of it being a little too inappropriate.
Sharing hotel rooms became weird, and it dawned on Max that maybe the two of you were acting a little too much like a couple when he found himself in bed with you snoring by his side, Daniel's words still haunting him like a ghost at the corner of the king sized bed.
He’d stared at your face in the dark for an hour, the street lights doing a good job of contouring your face in the dark and he’d felt a knot in his stomach when you’d shifted in your slumber and reached for something. He hadn’t realized what you looked for until you placed your hand on his arm.
Not grabbing. Just… setting it there like you needed his comfort even in your sleep. Such a simple gesture that had shook your best friend to the core.
The Aussie made it, along with Lando, his life's mission to send looks and make comments after that race weekend in Baku.
That was eight months ago, and they clearly had no intention of stopping as you sat in the backyard of Carlos' family vacation home in Palma de Mallorca, surrounded by drivers and their partners alike. You’d been there for two days, the relaxation already blanketing your group the more you spent time in the ocean and dozed in the loungers. The nights consisted of card games, drinking games and bonfires until someone had the stupid idea to go for a dip in the sea that just so happened to be in your backyard.
You'd been dozing tonight, finding it hard to stay awake with the way Max's fingers absentmindedly drew patterns up and down your drawn up legs.
The sun had clearly done its number on you during the day, draining every bit of energy you’d had. Heat and humidity always did that to you, so it wasn’t a surprise that you’d find the comfort of your best friend’s embrace the moment everyone sat down and curl up much like a cat.
The rhythm of his chest was enough to lull you into a sense of security, watching your group of friends across the table as they played Uno with the occassional accusation and shouts that came with playing the card game.
It had been Charles' idea to play it, clearly wanting to see the world burn as he put a group of competitive people into a game of Uno. It had been great entertainment though, your lips curled into a permanent amused smile as you watched on in silence.
Lando pulled a draw four card, setting it down with a grin and Carlos cursed in Spanish, clearly annoyed as he shoved the curly haired boy. A ripple of laughter tore through the group at the display, and you figured that it wasn't long before the game would dissolve into angry arguments.
"You can't beat the master of Uno." Lando said, clearly looking to agitate the Spaniard as the black haired man picked up an additional four cards to his already stacked hand.
"You've lost the last four games, mate." Charles muttered into his glass, taking a sip of his icy margarita for good measure.
"My luck is turning, mate.” Lando flipped him off, earning laughter from Pierre and George. “Get off my back."
You watched them bicker, thoughts stuttering to a halt when Max shifted beneath you. He drew the hand that had been on your legs up, ruffling your hair gently and you glanced up at him.
"Have you fallen asleep on me yet?" He asked quietly, for your ears only and you grinned sleepily, the perfect picture of comfortable.
“Not yet.” You muttered, covering your mouth as a yawn took you by surprise and Max smiled in amusement.
“Do you wanna go for a walk?” He glanced up at the boys when their voices picked up volume. “Get out before this becomes massacre.”
You laughed, nodding your head in agreement and letting him pull you up. No one really noticed as you slipped away, or if they did, they didn’t question it.
The voices of your friends faded into the background the further you got away from the house, grass and gravel transformed into cobblestones leading up to the town and further from the ocean.
“It’s so pretty here.” You mused, looking down the cobbled path, lit up by street lamps. “I’d love to live some place like this, some day.”
Max’s brows furrowed, following your gaze before looking at you questioningly.
“You basically do.” He said, humourous lilt to his voice. “Mooching off of me, living it up in Monaco.”
It would’ve made you feel self-conscious and even a little embarrassed if those words had come from anyone else but Max, but you’d been friends for so long that you knew when he was joking and when he was being serious. And in this case, it was the former. It was evident in the teasing smile and his light voice, aside from the fact that he’d always find a way to rebook your flight and beg you to stay for a few more days. As if you hadn’t been with him for a week already, as if you didn’t attend nearly every race because he claimed that he didn’t want anyone else around but you.
You were aware that it wasn’t a normal friendship, what the two of you had. And you knew that people thought it to be unbelievable that you weren’t romantically involved, some days you questioned that yourself. But that was a whole can of worms that you weren’t ready to crack open just yet. It felt too dangerous.
“I’ll be out of your hair soon.” You said, voice airy as you tossed your hair over your shoulder and skipped a step forward before turning and walking backwards in front of Max. He arched a confused brow, almost disappearing under his cap and the sight was a little too funny. “As soon as I find another man to live off of. Preferably handsome and rich.”
You were kidding, obviously, but the thought still made something sour well up in Max’s throat and he struggled to not frown in annoyance. He looked away, making it seem as if he was admiring the ocean view that he could barely see in the dark, when he was in fact trying to shield his face from your attentive eyes.
“Shouldn’t be too hard.” He said, cursing himself when his voice shook. It was so minimal though and you thankfully didn’t call him out on it. ”I mean, look at you.”
There was an awkward silence seeping into the space between you and you tried to maintain the aloof expression on your face but it was hard when your stomach was doing weird flip flops. Look at you.
“And also,” Max continued, rushing to fill the silence and break the sudden and rare awkwardness. “You’ve got me as your wingman.”
That made you laugh, and something like relief flooded Max’s stomach.
“Wingman? Right.” You turned, walking ahead of him and the boy frowned at the disbelieving tone in your voice.
“What do you mean? I’m an excellent wingman.” He jogged up to catch up with you, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in.
It always amused him how you stumbled into his embrace whenever he did that, always so caught off guard but never once doubting that he’d be there to keep you upright. It was his favourite thing to do, mainly because you’d grumble and peer up at him with your eyes and Max would grin like the close proximity didn’t make him want to vomit with how much he craved to press his lips to yours. Just to see what it’d be like.
“Max,” you rolled your eyes. “No one ever dares to approach me when you’re by my side. You’re like a guard dog.”
“What?” He pulled back a little to look at your face, still keeping his arm around you. “I’m not! What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You scare off every single man!” Your voice went high in amusement and something else that he couldn't put his finger on. At Max’s furrowed brows, you sucked your teeth in exasperation and continued, “Last weekend, we were out in Monaco, remember? Two guys approached me, and you just magically seemed to show up and stake your claim. You might as well have peed all over me.”
The furrow between Max’s eyebrows seemed to deepen, feeling a little lost all of a sudden because you sounded genuinely upset and he didn’t know what to do with that.
“That's disgusting. And I wasn’t staking anything.” Max grumbled when the silence stretched on. “They were idiots anyway. Who wears sunglasses inside a club? At night?"
The both of you stared at each other as you walked and you couldn’t help but let out a giggle that broke the sudden tension. Just the sound of it made Max relax a little from where he'd suddenly gone tense.
“He was kind of a loser, wasn’t he?” You agreed, because it was true. “But you still scare every guy off.”
Okay, so maybe he did. And he’d done so unintentionally until last year before his feelings for you started to enter dangerous territory. Whereas before, he’d genuinely think that the guys you dated were total idiots, now he’d find a way to glare and act standoffish until the men took that as a sign and bailed.
“Sorry.” He said, but he really wasn’t. And you clearly didn’t believe he was sincere, judging by the arched brows on your forehead. “What? I am.”
You didn’t say anything to that, because you weren’t really upset about the fact that Max managed to chase men off whenever they got close to you. It was just the fact that he ran them off and then continued to act as if his actions didn’t have any hidden motives.
There was clearly something between the two of you, and it scared you but it also made you want more. Max was just too much of a wuss to act out on it, and so were you, in a way.
You didn’t know how many hints you could dish out before it got borderline ridiculous. Max didn't need a push, he needed a shove.
The both of you took a walk around the small village before circling back home. A few had retired to bed already, and you found Daniel, Pierre and Lando lounging around by the outdoor fireplace. Lando clocked the both of you walking into the backyard, looking a little suspicious and you shot him a questioning glance.
“Welcome back, children.” The man himself greeted, earning a flick to the head by Max in passing. He yelped, making you laugh as you sat down by Pierre.
“We’re older than you, idiot.” You pointed out and Max made a hum in agreement, looking around with a small frown.
It was ridiculous how he all of a sudden felt a little lost when you didn’t immediately go for a seat that held two people. You always managed to find a seat right next to Max, even going as far as sitting in his lap when he was in a chair; neither of you pointing out the fact that there were other seats to choose from.
But now you’d sat next to Pierre, and he felt something ugly bloom in his chest when the man in question draped a friendly arm over the backrest. You were good friends with the Frenchman, and he had a girlfriend but it still made Max annoyed.
He reluctantly sat in a chair when he realised that he’d lingered for too long, trying to tune into the conversation that had gone on for the whole time he’d gotten lost in his head.
You’d noticed, of course you had, there was no one as in tune with Max Verstappen as you were. It made you feel a smidge of glee because it was just further confirmation that whatever was going on between the two of you wasn’t friends being friends.
And it only seemed to solidify when Max looked your way, a hundred emotions shining in his eyes as he glared daggers at Pierre and his harmless arm. You arched an eyebrow, silently and innocently asking him what was wrong.
You watched Max shift in his seat.
“So, where’s Kika, Pierre?” He asked, the question coming out of the blue and you almost rolled your eyes, trying not to react when Daniel and Lando’s conversation trailed off to look at the three of you.
Pierre touched your shoulder with a finger, a tap that conveyed so much and you hid a smile by biting your cheek. Leave it to Pierre to read a room and embody the innocent and clueless man perfectly in order to help you.
“She’s sleeping.” He replied easily, kindly. “Had a little too much to drink. Which reminds me…” He trailed off and turned his head to look at you. “She wanted me to remind you of your plans tomorrow.”
“What plans?” Max asked before you had a chance to reply.
“We’re just going to a boutique we came across. It looked cute,” you smiled. “It was closed when we walked by today. But they had these nice bikinis I wanted to get my hands on.”
Lando looked up at the mention of bikinis, a smarmy smile that told you exactly what he’d say before he even opened his mouth.
“Can I come?” He asked, making Daniel cackle.
You stretched your leg out to kick his shin, grinning at his cheekiness. Lando dodged your kick just barely, a smile of his own stretching his lips.
“You’re being weird.” Max said, giving the British boy a look that looked an awful lot like a warning. It didn’t deter Lando though, not like it’d make a grown man running if it were aimed at a stranger.
The curly haired boy only rolled his eyes, a playful air to him as he glanced between you and Max.
“I’m being weird, sure.” He said. “Not as weird as you two sharing a bed.”
A hot flush traveled up your spine and reached your cheeks when Pierre and Daniel laughed, like they were trying to hold it in but couldn’t. You had half a mind to reach over the table and strangle your friend who looked way too smug to have aired out the one thing everyone probably had thought at least once, but never said out loud.
You and Max shared a glance, expecting him to look embarrassed but he looked smug and you didn’t know why your stomach rolled at the sight. He looked… hot. Confidence had always looked good on Max.
“At least I have someone to share a bed with, dipshit.” He stretched out his hand to pinch Lando, making everyone laugh. “Can’t say the same for you.”
“Oh, ha!” Lando raised his voice in a fake laugh, face scrunched up adorably sarcastic. “Ha, ha, you’re so funny, Max. Maybe you should consider being a comedian instead of the insufferable driver that you are.”
“Maybe then you’d have a chance to get podium.” Max said around a laugh and it took exactly two seconds before everyone started hollering and cackling, Lando standing up to deliver half-assed punches and nips at the laughing Dutchman who tried to dodge the incoming attacks.
You watched with an amused smile as they scuffled, both red in the face from laughter and shouts. There was no way that they wouldn’t end up waking up everyone in the house, so you stood up and ushered Lando away from Max with a laugh.
“You’re both children.” You pointed your finger at Lando when he took a step back.
“Still more mature than you.” Lando said, not maturely at all and you smiled in amusement.
“That's a fucking lie, mate.” Daniel scoffed, laughter in his voice and Lando turned around to give him a piece of his mind.
You watched them dish out insults at each other that really sounded a lot like friendly love in disguise, startling a little when you suddenly felt arms circle your waist. A yelp left your lips when you were pulled into Max’s lap, twisting until you could look at him.
The closeness of his face caught you off guard, the blue in his eyes so striking with the fireplace reflecting in them. You draped both legs over his lap, making yourself comfortable with a shy smile.
“Hi.” He greeted you softly once you’d settled down.
“Hello.” Your breath stuttered a little when he brushed his fingers against your waist, skin against skin where your tank top had ridden up.
“I think that’s our cue to go to bed.” Daniel said quietly, but loud enough for you to hear and look at him.
Lando shot him a look, eyebrows raising when both Daniel and Pierre stood up.
“I’m not tired? You go —“ He halted his words when Daniel glared at him. “Right. Whatever.”
The boys stood up, bidding you goodnight and kisses to your head before disappearing inside. You watched them through the sliding doors as they shoved each other and laughed, vanishing around a corner. Max squeezed your side and you glanced at him.
“What?” You asked when you spotted the smile that so badly wanted to break out on his face, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.
“You were trying to make me jealous.” He said, not as a question but as a sure statement. You rolled your eyes and tried to steady your breathing when he leaned forward to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck, his hot puffs of breath making goosebumps rise on your skin.
You squirmed when his beard tickled you, shoving halfheartedly on his shoulder but he didn’t budge. He pressed his lips against your pulse point and you knew that was it; he could definitely feel your racing pulse, there was no way he couldn’t.
“Well, it worked.” You replied belatedly, voice a lot weaker and shakier than you would’ve liked it to be.
Max didn’t say anything of it, though you could feel his lips move as he smiled into your throat.
“It did.” He confessed quietly, feeling your pulse jump beneath his lips. “I wanted to break Pierre’s fingers.”
He touched your shoulder where the Frenchman had previously touched you, like he was wiping off evidence of any man but himself. It made something coil tightly in your stomach, and you struggled to not squirm in your best friend’s lap.
“That would be unwise.” You whispered, glancing over at the house where there was no sign of life.
You didn’t know how you’d explain it away, if someone were to walk back out and find the two of you in this position. You, in his lap with your arm wound around his shoulder and Max under you, pressed so close in every way. It would certainly be hard to convince anyone you were just friends after this.
But you weren’t just friends. Friends didn’t touch you the way he did, with his hand stroking the skin over your collarbone, trailing a path down the cup of your tank top and feeling the swell of your breast. Your heart was thundering in your chest, eyes locked on his hand as it mapped out every inch of your skin; fingers stroking down between your tits before he opened the palm of his hand to slide it over your ribs, almost cupping your heaving chest. You almost wished that he did, every inch of your body aching to be defiled by the very same man you’d called your best friend for years.
“Breathe.” He murmured against your throat and you realised that you’d been holding your breath, a rush of air escaping your mouth as you willed yourself to relax.
“Max.” Your brows furrowed, arching your back a little and pushing your chest closer to him.
He said your name, the sound of it so beautifully intimate and hot on his tongue that it almost made you whine. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess in your head, making it hard for you to think of anything other than his hand. The very same hand that caressed your ribs, fingers spanning out until he brushed your nipple. You inhaled sharply at the twinge of pain when he went over it again, making out the shape of it through the thin material of your top and circling it teasingly just so he could hear your stuttered and laboured breaths.
“You sound so pretty for me.” He spoke against your skin, welcoming the twinge of pain when you pulled at his hair slightly.
The whispered compliment lit your body on fire, made your hand tighten in his hair so you could push his face against your neck. He seemed to get the memo, opening his mouth to latch onto the sensitive skin there and suck. The combination of suction and the sharp pain of his thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple made you moan, the loudness of the sound catching you off guard.
“Fuck!” You cursed when he rolled the bud between his fingers, enjoying the way you squirmed; like you weren’t sure whether to push into or away from him.
You glanced up at the sky, trying to focus on the light of the stars but there was no stopping the way your eyes rolled when he bit into your skin where he’d been sucking a nasty mark into it, flattening his tongue out to lave over it. Almost like he wanted to soothe the sting.
“This isn’t weird, is it?” You asked breathlessly, even though you both knew the answer to that.
“Does it feel weird?” He countered, pulling away and you blinked down at him; struck by the absolute need in his face.
It was the first time you’d seen his face since you sat down, taking in the saliva on his lip and the blown out pupils. He looked good enough to eat and you couldn’t help but lean forward to kiss him, licking into his mouth the way you'd thought of doing for the last year.
He welcomed it with gusto, pulling away for a swift second to gauge your reaction. Max must’ve liked what he saw on your face because he dove right back, claiming your lips in a bruising kiss that had you moaning from your throat.
“Been thinking about this for a long time now.” Max confessed when you both let up for air, staring at each other through hooded lids and bruised lips.
“Me too.” You said, pushing his hair back softly. “So long.”
He kissed you again, like he couldn’t help it and you let him claim your lips however he pleased before he trailed down your jawline, sucking a few more hickeys down the side of your neck for good measure. You pushed your chest out when he neared the swell of them, watching how he pulled your top down just enough to get a better look at your tits.
Max stared at them, marvelling at the sight before the need to have his mouth on them became too great. A whimper tumbled from your lips when he sucked and licked until your skin turned raw, giving the other nipple the very same treatment.
“Oh, what the fuck?” A voice exclaimed and you jumped, turning to shield yourself from whoever had decided to turn up unannounced.
Max hurried to pull up your tank top, shooting you a glance before he leaned to the side and peered around you at the same time you looked over your shoulder. George had his back turned to you, one hand on his waist and face turned toward the sky. You couldn’t see his face, but the exasperation was clear as day in his body language.
“You guys are fucking gross.” He said and you bit your lips together to stop from laughing.
“What the fuck do you want, Russell?” Max asked, clearly annoyed that you’d been interrupted and you smoothed a thumb over the crease on his forehead.
“I forgot my phone, asshole.” He replied, agitated. “Are you guys decent?”
“Yes, you drama queen.” You rolled your eyes and watched him turn around.
There was a grimace etched on his face as he walked forward, sticking his hand down between the couch cushions until he fished out his phone. George stood upright, and there was a moment of awkwardness as you all looked at each other.
“Congratulations on finally coming to your senses.” He said finally, saluting you and walking backwards. “But please don’t shag on the patio furniture, we still have a week left and I don’t think Carlos would like an ass print on the cushions.”
“Why don’t you come over here and kiss my ass?” Max flipped him off with no real heat and you laughed.
“No thanks,” he grinned as he reached the sliding doors. “I’ll leave that to your girl.”
A silence filled the air after George made his exit and you slowly turned around, mentally preparing yourself for the onslaught of prodding questions that would surely come in the morning. George could never keep his mouth shut, enjoying chaos where it wasn’t necessary and you’d been friends with everyone long enough to know that it only took one person for word to spread like wildfire.
“It could’ve been worse.” Max said, who’d been sitting silently and regarding the faraway look in your eyes. It never ceased to amaze you how easily he could read you.
“Don’t remind me.” You widened your eyes at him, a smile overtaking your face when you saw the sparkle of humour in his eyes. “Maybe we should…”
You trailed off, hoping he’d take the hint because the sudden embarrassment kept you from finish the sentence. What would you even say? Maybe we should go to bed so we can finish what we started?
Max seemed to pick up what you were putting down, as he always did. He gave you a nod, face soft with reassurance as he cupped your face in his hand, brushing a few strands of your hair away from your face.
“Are we good?” He asked, and you took a good look at him; noting the slight worry in his eyes and you realised that while he was reassuring you, he needed a little reassurance of his own.
You placed a hand over his, giving him a gentle nod with a smile. His eyes fluttered shut when you leaned over to peck his lips, placing a kiss on his stubbled cheek for good measure.
“We’re more than good.” You gave another nod, climbing out of his lap and reaching both your hands out so he could grab them. “Take me to bed, Max.”
He made a show of groaning loudly until you laughed, hauling him up and dragging him across the lawn. You preened under his wandering hands as he crowded your space from behind, plastering his front to your back and winding his arms around you.
“Stop that.” You hissed when he buried his face in the crook of your neck, making loud and lewd noises until it tickled you.
“But you’re so soft.” He complained, sliding both hands up your sides and under your top, fingers grazing your under boob.
You squirmed but made no real effort to push him away, opening the sliding doors and walking inside with a little difficulty. The both of you got as far as the living area before Max turned you around and kissed you, rendering you useless to stop him or protest. You could feel his mouth stretch into a smirk, like he knew what he was doing and you didn’t have the heart to make any effort to scold him even as he backed you into the sofa. A loud yelp left your lips when the backs of your knees hit the sofa, accompanied by his startled shout when you both went tumbling down on the furniture with him over you.
“That wasn’t nearly as sexy as they make it out to be in the movies.” You complained, watching Max smile down at you. He adjusted the both of you until you had your legs around him, testing the waters by grinding down on you and your mouth dropped open when you felt the hardness of his cock against your crotch. “Oh, hello.”
Max exhaled, like he was relieved to finally take some pressure off by grinding against you and you angled your hips to meet his thrusts, keeping your eyes on his to watch as his face went through a hundred of different emotions. You were struggling though, the rough denim of his shorts against your cotton ones felt deliciously nice and it was becoming increasingly harder to keep quiet.
“I’d sometimes lie awake and imagine what you’d sound like.” Max murmured quietly, teeth bearing down on his lower lip when you gripped his shoulders a little harder. He ground down, listening to you whine high in your throat. “I’d fantasise what you looked like when you came.”
You dug your heels into his ass, silently telling him to keep going because a few minutes more of his incessant thrusting and he’d have you coming. Max kissed down your jawline, sucking tiny little marks into the skin that he knew you’d give him shit for when your mind had cleared, but it was the thought of your friends seeing your bruised skin that worked him up into a frenzy. He wanted, needed to show everyone that you were his. Fuck Pierre and his wandering hands, and Daniel who’d smugly smiled at him from across the paddock all those times.
He’d show them.
“You gonna make that reality, my love?” He was getting close, voice losing its edge as he spoke the words into your clavicle. He bit the thin skin there until you keened, digging your blunt nails into his shoulders. “Gonna show me what you look like when you come?”
“Yes, yes, yes…” your words were becoming jumbled, making these high noises from your chest that seized Max by the throat.
He didn’t think you were even aware of how loud you were becoming, but he’d be damned to stop you. It reminded him of the same noises you’d make when you’d take a quick dip into a cold ocean and he’d splash you just for the sake of it. You’d make this high pitched, whiny noise like the chill of the water took your breath away. It was mesmerising and so fucking hot that Max couldn’t help but grind down one last time and shoot off into his shorts, a throaty moan in your ear that sent you over the edge as well.
He forced himself to watch your face as it scrunched up, mouth hanging open as you gasped for breath, body seized up beneath him as you both ground against each other in an effort to bring you back down from your highs.
“Fuck, this is gross.” Max scrunched his nose up as he looked down between you. You peered down with a breathless giggle, noting the spot in his shorts that had seeped onto yours.
He looked up at you at the sound of your laughter, face relaxing when he saw your smiling eyes and hot cheeks. The sun had been good to you, kissing your skin so beautifully that he hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from you for a second since you got here.
“I can’t believe we just humped like a couple of teens.” You said it with laughter in your voice, but Max could spot the shy tilt of your brows and there was something oddly endearing about it. "In Carlos's family home." You said the last part in a mortified whisper, like the reality of it was dawning on you.
“Should’ve done that sooner.” He joked and you laughed, slapping his shoulder.
Max dropped his weight on you as sudden exhaustion seeped into his body, and you grunted. You wound your arms around him though, ignoring the messes you’d made between you for the sake of a cuddle. Your fingers drew little patterns on his back, like you knew Max loved, and he almost purred at the feeling.
“We should probably go to bed.” You said quietly.
“Yeah.” He said, but neither of you made any effort to move.
The grandfather clock was ticking away in the corner, almost like background music, and you were almost lulled to sleep by Max’s steady breathing. Your eyes opened when he suddenly moved above you, having sensed that you were two seconds from falling asleep when your hands stopped moving on his back.
“Okay,” he sighed heavily and stood up with a grimace, wobbling a little. You smiled slowly when he offered you his hands, pulling you up. “Time for bed.”
“I’m getting déjà vu.” You referred to an hour ago when you’d declared bedtime, only to end up a few meters away on the couch instead.
Max laughed, pulling you along toward the stairs and guiding you down a narrow hallway.
The morning after went as well as you’d imagine, waking up with Max snoozing quietly on his stomach with his hands shoved underneath the pillow. You’d ghosted a kiss on his cheek before getting up to get ready for the day. Sharing a room with Max during all the years had made you stealthy enough to perform your routines without him waking up, but it could also be because he slept like a rock and not even pans and pots in the hands of Lando and Daniel could bring him out of his dead sleep.
“Good morning, sunshine.” Daniel greeted you when you stepped foot into the kitchen, pulling everyone’s eyes toward you and you smiled awkwardly.
“Hi? Hey.” You carefully avoided George’s eyes as you walked around the counter, patting Heidi on the back in a silent greeting.
The look she gave you had your hackles rising a bit, but you pushed the paranoia away because surely George hadn’t gone and blabbed already? It was only - you looked at the clock - nine in the morning. Christ.
Charlotte handed you a mug of steaming coffee and you wordlessly took it, taking a small sip. “Thank you.”
Conversation picked back up again as you went on the hunt for toast, popping them in the toaster and pouring another cup of coffee for Max who’d probably woken up by now. Francisca talked about the boutique you’d be going to, waving Pierre off with a playful hand when he tried to invite himself into your girls day.
There was a slight lull in the chaos of three conversations happening in the space of the kitchen, and it wasn’t hard to figure out that Max had finally joined the party. You turned your head and almost smiled at his hair, wet from a shower and sticking up in all directions. He looked sleepy still, a little bleary eyed but he still managed to find you in the gaggle of people.
It warmed your heart a lot more than you’d like to admit when you watched his eyes light up as they settled on you, murmuring good morning’s and patting backs as he made a beeline for you.
You smiled at him. “Morning.”
Max accepted the mug of coffee you handed him, kissing your cheek in thanks and you leaned into it automatically. It was scary how fast you’d gotten used to his affection, but it felt so natural that you couldn’t bring yourself to question it.
“You look beautiful.” He complimented you, hand finding the hem of your dress to pluck at it with his fingers.
It was a plain old summer dress in white, one you’d worn a couple of times but it was Max’s favourite piece. It made your legs look amazing, and he was slightly mourning the thought of having to let you go out with the girls and not being able to ogle you openly.
“Thank you.” You smiled up at him.
“Is anyone gonna address the elephant in the room?” Lando spoke out, bringing the both of you out of your bubble you’d managed to create.
You turned around to look at the nosy group, rolling your eyes at your friend.
“Isn’t it clear?” Pierre balled up leftover bread from a loaf and chucked it at the Brit from across the table.
Charles frowned, glancing at you before looking over at his girlfriend who was smiling a little too brightly for your liking.
“Am I missing something?” Charles narrowed his eyes and looked at you. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
“You’re not.” You said, playfully glaring at your friends. “They’re just being idiots.”
George coughed, dodging an incoming slap to the arm from Carmen. Just that one gesture let you know that Carmen was aware of what had happened last night.
“Tell that to Carlos’ furniture.” He muttered but it was enough for Carlos to look up, frown deep in his face as his round eyes looked between George, you and Max.
“What?” He asked, confusion lacing his voice. “What did you say?”
Max coughed, hiding a laugh as he turned around to pick up his mug of coffee. You shot Kika a look that screamed help me and she didn’t even hesitate to hop up from the barstool and nod at the girls.
“Everyone ready?” She asked, earning a few replies as they gathered up their things for a day in town. "Vamos."
You watched in amusement before turning to Max, not really in the mood to leave him and he seemed to share those feelings, judging by the look on his face. His eyes flickered across your face, like he was trying to memorise it and you leaned into him.
“I’ll see you later?” He asked, like it was ever a question, watching you nod. He handed you the toast you’d prepared, giving you a look. “Eat up before you go.”
You tried to act like that small gesture didn’t make your heart absolutely crumble into ashes, not having the strength to refrain yourself from standing on your toes to press a kiss to his mouth.
“What the fuck?” Came Charles’ voice from somewhere and you laughed into Max’s lips before pulling back.
Max gave your behind a small pat and you turned around to leave the kitchen, thinking that you couldn’t wait to be back home.
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mkscatgirl · 1 year
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Actually speaking of eye contact I have made a weird amount of DIRECT eye contact with my crush the last few days
#like i was thinking recently that i didnt actually know his eye colour cause i never make legit eye contact#but then yesterday we made a bunch and there was a specific moment last night were i was like this is A LOT#so like theres a guitar in the phys common room and we kept our stuff in that room when we went to the Halloween party#anyways thats not important when we got back into the room to get out stuff we started talking about some stuff and then my crush started#playing the guitar in there because he can and like other people were talking so they werent really paying attention but i was cause of#of course i was teehee anyways he like figured out how to play the opening of roundabout aka the outro of jjba#and then he was like you know what this is? 👀 and i was like omg YEAH! and then as he played it he just like made eye contact???? like th#the WHOLE time????? like he only looked away once for a second to double check his fingers but it was like a solid 5 to 10 seconds of just#pure direct eye contact WHILE hes playing the guitar which i thought was crazy#and also today when we were talking about phil stuff he was explaining a concept and again we made like Eye Contact where he only looked a#away to the other people like once briefly and then right back to me and it felt weirdly disproportionate#but maybe thats because i was looking too intensely or smth???? idk how that works i barely understand eye contact to begin with#but like i dont think i was being weird he was the one talking so i was looking at him thats called Active Listening#but also i need to take every thought i have in regards to him with MANY grains of salt because naturally i will be very biased LOL#anyways i need to STOP talking and instead go to sleep or at least try (AGAIN) because i need to be up in 7 hours because i DO WANT TO go#to my phys lectures but alas i have cant fall asleep and thus am sleepy in the morning disease#and my phys elective course is much less important than the essential math course afterwards#so id rather be more rested in math and have to read phys lecture slides than be TIRED and miserable through both classes
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alrtyhoney · 7 months
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TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS 
(I watch her go with a surge of that well known sadness and I have to sit down for a while– the feeling that I'm losing her forever.)
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The rundown: That cake scene with Miles at his father’s bodega party but it’s with Miguel and his universe’s daughter. He’s late and it’s your quinceañera. Content: Father!Miguel O'hara x Daughter!Reader / Angst! (wc: 3844)
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There was something oddly peculiar about your father. People would assume that he would be the archetypal absent one who chose to abandon his child; the dead-beat-dad who ultimately never cared for them. You’d argue it wasn’t true– you were fed, you had the weight of what a fifteen year old should have, and education was proper. 
You love your papa with all of your heart, but there was no denying the fact that he would never be around often enough. You understood this when you were eight years old, and mornings would bring only a cold breakfast accompanied by a hastily scribbled note from him. He’d leave early– far too early. You tried staying up in an attempt to tell when he gets up and leaves the house, but you swear you don’t hear the door open every time. 
Then came twelve and the missed events. Miguel seemed to be missing in action when it came to certain school activities, not showing up for things that he had previously made commitments for. It became more and more frequent as you grew older– you wouldn’t hear from him for days.
He was a man dedicated to his profession, and although you felt pride in what he had achieved, there was this empty space in your heart that hadn’t been filled ever since you were eight. It was said that a child needed the presence of their parents to feel security– to feel important. You never truly understood it, not until you had to endure many nights at dinner alone and the numerous times you spent walking home with nothing but your own thoughts for company.
You had always pondered over the question of whether it was a common phenomenon that fathers seemed to love their daughters less once they had reached teenagehood– or if it was possible for fathers to unlearn being fathers. 
“Is your papa coming, bebita?” 
The faint notes of classical music filled the air as you sat on the wooden floor, stretching your sore limbs. You observed the ladies who were much older than yourself starting their exercise routines, having come in early before the group class began. You waited for Miguel to pick you up. 
– But that had been two hours ago. Your teacher finally worked up the courage to approach you, hesitantly looking for the right words to say. She wasn’t exactly pleased to be the one to let you down, but she’d seen you walk out the studio’s door alone time and time again after you told her that your father would bring you home himself.
“He said he’d come pick me up today.” You spoke, nervously twisting the ends of your skirt. Your teacher had most likely heard these words countless times before from you, but the faint ray of hope in your voice remained firm. “He promised.” You added quietly, praying that maybe it would be different this time. 
“Ay, bebita– you know how this ends. You tell me those exact words and you walk out here on your own anyway.” She slightly shook her head, her face softening with a sympathetic smile as she knelt closer to you. “Tell you what, how about I offer to give you a ride home today? I have plenty of snacks in my car that you can enjoy. You can take as many of them as you'd like.”
You took some time to consider it, letting her gently weave her fingers through the strands of curls that couldn't quite fit into a bun. Your lips pursued as you sighed softly, “What if he comes and I’m not here anymore?” You’d hate to miss the opportunity.
Of course you still had faith that he would come, having endured all the other times he had let you down. You were never one to quickly give up on people and your father was the only one you trusted the most— you’d hate to admit that his inconsistency was starting to hurt; digging a deeper wound to the already bleeding cut. 
“He’s not coming and I know you know that too.” 
She stands up, grunting slightly as she hefts herself up. You knew there was no more room for negotiation anymore when she urged you to come along. She carefully takes your backpack from off your back and drapes it over her own shoulders, “Come on sweetheart, let's get you home.” 
The silence in the car was palpable, with no one feeling the need to prod conversation. You hadn't stopped fidgeting with the hem of your bag since you got in, and you could feel your teacher's worried glances burning into you. Your mind was a jumble of emotions that kept bubbling away as they all competed for your attention. What could be his reason this time/?
She switched on the radio in an effort to lighten the tense mood, but when a melancholic tune filled played instead, you couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh.
“Is it possible for fathers to unlove their daughters?” 
It was a question that took her completely by surprise, so much so that another uncomfortable beat of silence passed before she could respond. The stillness made you regret asking in the first place. Your legs shifted nervously, an unconscious habit which you had never noticed before.
“Of course not,” She muttered, almost inaudibly. “Fathers tend to forget is all.”
But you knew that wasn’t the case. 
While Miguel was never home, something else resided on the corners of your house– someone you have never met at all. She smiled back at you from the frame sitting atop your dad's nightstand, wearing the similar blue soccer jersey your school had. She was the picture on his wallet and the little widget on his phone. It was beyond you– the few blue ribbons hidden on the box beneath his bed; the medals, the drawings you know you’ve never drawn or given him. For all you know, the kid didn’t even go to your school. 
It wasn’t anything sinister, but in a way she felt like a ghost. A child your father mourned for all his life and you had no idea why. 
This was a physical pain in your chest; one that was peeling away the very layers of your heart until it was nothing but ugly– just how could Miguel love a child more than his own? It was ridiculous to feel like you were in competition with someone you barely knew, yet somehow, you felt like you were losing. It felt even more absurd when you considered the possibility that maybe you weren't really his child at all.
“I joined our school’s soccer team today, papa.” 
It wasn’t an ordinary occurrence for Miguel to be at the dining table for lunch. But on this Saturday noon, he was there. Sitting across from you, quietly eating his food. Finally, he paused and shifted his gaze towards you, seeming to linger on you longer than normal before looking away, cracking a grin.
“Soccer? You hate sports, mija.” He says, a bit of laughter in his voice. "What made you decide to try out? I don't recall you being the least bit interested before."
Something in his eyes becomes brighter, a sense of familiarity as he eagerly awaits your response– and the thing is, you couldn’t tell him why. Not without addressing the elephant in the room. Maybe you’d hang my medals too? Maybe you’d frame a photo of me? You know well your question reminds him of someone else. 
“No reason.” 
It was no surprise that you were terrible at it. After barely two seasons, you'd already given up. However it was surprising to see Miguel in the stands during the times that you had a game, but there wasn’t much to watch anyway— not when you’d been relegated to the bench for most of the time. All you felt was shame. 
Oddly enough, he didn't question it. He remained silent during the rides back home, his gaze distant and never once looked at you. Had you embarrassed him to an extent where he couldn’t even acknowledge you? Or have you given him the impression that you were just no better than the little girl in his pictures?
You dared not to talk about it too.
Music was your passion; the pulse, the poise and elegance of it all resonating with you deeply. Ballet was something that spoke to you particularly in ways no other art form could. You found a special joy out on stage, a feeling that grew deeper and greater each time you danced.
But like every flame that you desperately try to keep alive, Miguel had a way of snuffing it out. 
You remember it all so vividly, even though you'd much rather the memory be nothing more than a faint blur. Your very first recital and yet he wasn't anywhere to be found amongst the audience.
Your focus was a tunnel-vision, only set to finding even a glimpse of him— you had been so determined to find him that you forgot about all of your own movements. Soon, the few wrong turns had turned to missed cues; as soon as the music stopped, you made a run for it.
Your teacher had done her best to console you that day, attempting to coax a smile from you in front of the vanity mirror with its bright lights. She had wrapped her arms around you, doing anything she could to draw even the faintest curve of your lips. But you stayed slumped on your seat, feeling the weight of the unshed tears on your eyes. 
The door swung open, finally revealing Miguel; he was out of breath and sweat glistened on his forehead. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top and his tie was undone, a clear sign that he had run all the way here. He paused for a moment to catch his breath before walking in frantically, eyes looking for you. 
His eyes softened at the sight of you in your pretty pink tutu– then the tenderness was replaced with a feeling akin to plummeting one hundred stories down. How could he miss this? How could he let his sweet girl wait? He rushed to your side, sinking down into a kneeling position. He looked upon you with lines creasing his forehead and you already knew what was to come out of his lips.
“I’m sorry muneca, I came as fast as I could.” 
The other parents of your classmates started to barge inside the very room, their children giddy with joy and excitement, running to them with beaming smiles. You could hear their loud congratulations– voices singing sweet praises and telling how they looked outstanding on stage. The noise sounded like static in your ears, like their words were unfamiliar to you. They received bouquets of flowers, sweets– gifts for a job well done. Miguel came late and only with apologies. 
“You want pretty flowers too, mijita? We can stop by the flower shop a few blocks away from here, you can pick any bouquet you want.” His lips curved into a gentle smile, desperate to make his daughter feel better– the same daughter who wouldn't even meet his gaze. “Papa had to deal with something. I’ll be sure to go to your next recital– pinky promise.” 
“But I worked really hard for this.”
You wanted so desperately to blame him; to yell at him for every mistake that you've made on the stage. You felt ashamed, humiliated, and helpless all at once- and still, you couldn’t have the heart to be mad at him.
He looked at you apologetically, "Baby, I'm sorry I couldn't make it earlier. How about we talk about the flowers you want to buy instead? There are lots of restaurants nearby as well— you can pick whatever pleases you, just name it." He paused for a moment before continuing, gently nudging your shoulder. “I know how much this meant to you.”
If he did, why couldn’t he have come at all?
You let out a deep sigh, feeling completely ridiculous in your tutu. All of the sudden, the leotard appeared to be two sizes too small and utterly irritating; your tights seemed unbearably itchy. You looked down helplessly, wanting nothing more than to leave this situation behind. “I just want to go home. Can we just leave? Please?” You pleaded softly. 
He bit the inside of his cheek, a gesture that conveyed own sinking heart in a way words could not. His shoulders sagged ever so slightly, breath hitching as he gave in to your request instead. 
“Of course.” 
After that very moment, you'd vowed to yourself never to wait in anticipation of something that may or may not come. You wouldn’t put your faith in any more of your father's promises spoken under the dead of night. It took a toll on you– your naivety had taught you better than before.
But when your fifteenth birthday drew near, you never expected he would go so far.
The locks clicked and whirred as Miguel fumbled with the keys to the front door. You could hear your Father's voice, clearly agitated as he jostled the keys back and forth in an attempt to fit them into the lock. Finally, he steps inside, eyes immediately darting to you.
“You’re not wearing your birthday dress, sweetie. Is something wrong?” He’s wearing a smile, struggling to keep the two boxes of cake upright as he locks the door from behind. The banner is lopsided and the balloons scattered all around seem small– like they’ve been there for days and were starting to deflate themselves. He kisses the top of your head once he gets close, getting a better view of what you were working on on the counter. Homework. “Did you have your friends over today? How was it? Wanna hear all about it.”
And he must have forgotten. You decided to pretend not to hear his question, continuing to jot down notes, only humming at his presence. He settles the boxes down, sitting on the stool beside you. 
“I know papa’s late, but you can still go and wear your dress. I want to take pictures– should we order pizza? Do you want something else?” He’s rambling, hurriedly searching for his tone to dial down a few numbers. Miguel turns frantic, looking at the closed signs under every nice restaurant. “Pizza should be fine, mijita– you’ve eaten dinner, right?” 
“Not hungry.” 
Miguel chuckled, dialing anyway. “Did school suck today, sweetie?” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood. “You know what can cheer you up? Cake. You love cake.”
“I don’t like cake anymore.” You say, your voice barely above a whisper. You can feel frustration boiling over inside– and you fear it wasn’t the kind you’ve grown accustomed to suppressing. He was oblivious and it was killing you, hurting you in so many ways possible. “I’m not hungry.” You repeat again.
“Don’t be like that, __. Besides, it’s still tradition.” He stands up to check the drawers, only finding worn out candles from past birthdays. He takes a lighter. “Know what’s better than a cake? Two cakes! You’ll change your mind, go and open the boxes mija,”
Miguel excitedly pressed his hands on your shoulders, pushing you gently forward to open the two boxes of cake. The look in his eyes was that of pure anticipation as he waited eagerly for you to do so. It almost hurt you to tell him the news— that you wanted more than to just take the blame itself. It was conflicting. 
You finally got up from the bar stool, settling on your feet in front of the counter. Taking a deep breath, you carefully opened the lid of the boxes. What greeted you had made you visibly recoil– the small flicker of hope that settled in your chest gone as quickly as it came. The cakes were crumbled and the frosting was all over the box, like it had been trampled and tossed around.
Was this all a joke? Were you a joke to him? Your shoulders trembled as you couldn't bring yourself to look away from it; the letter was still visible but amongst the cake crumbs lay written a name– Gabriella. Not happy birthday to you, but Gabi. 
You didn’t know what hurt most. Your lips quivered and all you could mutter was, “Gabi?”
His eyes widened in surprise as he quickly moved to your side to take a look at the cake himself. He swiftly closed the lids, shaking his head. “Must’ve been a mistake back at the bakery. I can–” 
And you could barely catch your breath, not when the hurt piled over one another. 
“Are the medals from her? The one’s from your bed? The trophies?” 
He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly irritated. “What did I tell you about snooping around my things, __?”
“Is this the girl–” A ragged inhale cuts your thoughts, “on your nightstand and wallet?” You didn’t even realize you had started to cry, but when another breath had caught itself in your throat, you were inconsolable– finally letting the dam break all at once.
Miguel did nothing to console you– he didn’t know how to. He knew he had messed up royally and all he could do was helplessly watch you break down. Who knows how long you’ve kept this? 
“__, come on. It’s just a simple mistake, it’s still cake–”
“And it was my birthday!” 
“Baby, what’s the big deal?” He was shocked and understandably so. His sweet, babygirl, who was usually so quiet and docile, was talking back angrily to him– but Miguel knew better than to point fingers. This was his fault– your unbecoming was his own doing.
“You just had to be late– on my birthday!” 
“I have work, baby, you know this.” 
“That still doesn’t explain anything!” You cried out, desperation flooding your voice. “Why are you never home? Where do you go? Who is Gabriella– why do you love her more than me?” You could feel your breath catch in your throat as your voice rose and trembled with every question. Your breathing grew unsteady and your throat began to close up, not allowing anymore words to come out as much as you wanted to scream. You feared there’d be no more room for air.
And there was something about Gabriella that everytime she was brought up, Miguel would be defensive. Perhaps it was the plenty of times Lyla would reprimand him when she catches him watching the few videos of them or when Jess would pity his state. “Don’t be ridiculous, __. I made a mistake– that’s it. We don’t have to fight.” He says, grabbing a spatula. “If it bothers you so much, here,”
Miguel frustratedly spreads the lettering with the spatula, leaving smudges of red on top of perfectly white frosting, resulting in a more muddled mess. He's making a complete mess of it and you can't bear to watch any longer. Your still figure finally reaches out to grab his wrist, “Stop— stop that! What are you doing?!”  
It was no use. The cake was nothing but totally ruined now. You didn’t even have the chance to read the message. He forcefully digs the candles on both, sliding it in front of you. Your eyes stayed on the cake– you didn’t have the heart to look at him. Anger boiled up within you and without a moment's hesitation, the words leaped from your mouth, "You're not listening to me! This is not what I'm so upset about—!"
But he responds in the same loudness as yours, slamming his hands down on the cold tiles of your countertop. “Okay, champ, you got it– go for it! Say what you have to say,” A sarcastic chuckle left his lips, adding insult to the already deep wound. “What do you have to tell me so bad?”
And you didn’t think it was possible for silence to be more deafening, but as you stared each other down, all you could think of was how maybe Miguel was worse than the archetypal absent one who chose to abandon his child or the dead-beat-dad who ultimately never cared for them. 
You were right. Fathers were capable of unloving their daughters and the way his dark eyes burned into yours was all the answer you needed. This wasn’t your papa– did you ever know him?
“My birthday was two days ago.” 
He furrowed his eyebrows, doubt creasing his forehead as he looked back to the calendar hung on the fridge. His gaze resting on your birthday date, the red circle mocking him in vivid reminder— two days ago. Your birthday was two days ago. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he felt nothing but guilt tying his stomach in knots. 
“Mijita–” He’s quick to console you, the anger in his words disappearing immediately and turning into an apologetic one– but every time he’d try to move forward, you’d only step back. Miguel couldn’t even bear to think how you’ve celebrated on your own. How you waited for him all night in your birthday dress. He subtly shook his head, trying his best not to clog his mind yet. 
He needed to make it up to you. He couldn’t lose you too.
“My birthday– why did you have to take it?” You rubbed your eyes harshly, but the more you wiped the tears away, the more they seemed to fall. “It’s mine and I still had to wait for you to be able to sing the song. It’s my day and all I could think of was what time you might come home tonight.”
You wanted nothing more than for him to run to you with open arms, to let you cry on his shoulders– but as his silence stretched on, you mistook it as nothing but ruthless. He simply didn’t care. Miguel was too much of a wall for that. 
The look you gave him was nothing but hate– a look no parent wants to ever come across and it almost makes him stagger back. It was like what he had done was the most disgusting– most inconsolable act ever beyond repair and all he could do was watch; watch as another daughter of his slip through his fingers. He’s holding you like water and he doesn’t know how to keep you in.
You scoffed, averting your gaze. “You don’t want to talk about it? Fine by me.” You turned your back, letting out another shaky exhale. You couldn’t look at him the same– not after this.
“You make it really, really, hard to feel like a daughter.” 
And with that, you run to your room, leaving Miguel to stay rooted to where he stood. He thinks to himself– had he taken that from you too?
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mischiefmoons · 5 months
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about you
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this was a request! read it here
words: 4.3k (longest one yet ohmy)
summary: james potter takes ‘easier’ for granted and finds out he now has a living reminder of that
warnings: none! sort of au, everyone lives and they win the war— angst angst angst, maybe open ended!!! groveling james and reader is a MOTHA (afab!)
a/n: guys i missed writing angst…i’m a deeply sad soul at heart so i enjoyed this a lot. I listened to ‘night shift’ by lucy dacus writing the first half, and ‘about you’ by the 1975 for the second half,,,,, both on repeat. i don’t mean to post at ungodly hours but i hope you enjoy!
posted: 11/11/23
—-
Insecurity is an ugly thing. It tugs at your frame, holding your shoulders hostage and your countenance shriveled in a scowl as you slink forward in your seat. But what should the rational reaction be when your boyfriend, the one you’ve planned out the rest of your life with— takes you out to dinner on a random Tuesday and then decidedly backtracks on everything you’ve built together? Your ears are ringing loudly, and you dumbly ask him to repeat himself when he says he wants to take a break.
“So that’s it then. You’ve made your decision and I just have to be okay with losing a year and a half of my life because you aren’t sure if you love me?” Your tone cuts through the fraying tether that holds you two together in the corner booth.
James for once, is at a loss for words. He wasn’t really sure of what to expect when he brought you here tonight, but any reaction to his admission was bound to hurt the both of you. You had to have known about his hesitations. Graduation was three weeks away, and everything was about to change, whether either of you liked it or not. Stupidly enough, James does love you, but that’s not the problem. The proximity he’s had as Head Boy working with Lily Evans makes him wonder if the life he lives is what’s meant for him. It keeps him up at night, gnawing at his resolve and comfort in being with you. He feels ungrateful to have it so easy. Loving you is easy. But the imposter syndrome sneaks into his room late at night in the form of ‘what if’.
“I…it’s just the timing of it all. We’re about to leave Hogwarts, and I don’t want to tie you down if I know I’m unsure of my—our future.”
He reaches out to grab your hand, and many a time ago, his sense of awareness was what you admired about him. You’d both get this familiar feeling of needing comfort, and within a minute, your fingers would intuitively find the other’s like it was second nature. Now, the thought of his touch might make you break his hand off to serve on a silver platter.
“Fuck your timing. If you think it’s as easy as making the decision to just quit while we’re ahead…. I love you. Don’t you…Is that not—” 
You clear your throat, the fire in your indignation being stifled by the whimpering feeling of knowing this was going to happen. The understanding of his plight, the knowing that he wants more. You could see it in the way his eyes wander when you all hang out, and you could feel it when he needs time to himself before bed, letting you back to your common room in the late hours alone. Screw your heart for appealing to his indecisiveness, his fear, when the final blow is aimed at the relationship you both once wanted together. Head Boy and Head Girl share living quarters after all. What chance did you stand against the girl he fell asleep a room away from? Maybe he dreams of her too, what you couldn’t give and what more she has to offer. 
“Tell me something James,” you choke as your body heaves with something akin to nausea. Being lovesick isn’t as romantic as it seems. The hopeless feeling in your tummy throbs as you clench your fists to keep it all down.
“Whatever you want.” 
His reply makes you laugh, desolation gripping your esophagus. Who knew feeling empty would feel like drowning? There is no more air left in your lungs that it almost incapacitates you, your last breath spilling out your final ask of him.
“Do you love me? What did I do?” 
The noise and chatter around you seems to fall silent as he zeroes in on your face, crestfallen from the words that leave your lips. It isn’t your fault, but how can he tell you that? At 18, he’s feeling stifled by the privilege of having his life all planned out for him. He knows people spend their lives searching for contentment but James can’t decipher if he’s right for all of this pressure falling upon his shoulders. The societal heir of his father’s business empire. The face of the upcoming war, bringing in a new generation of soldiers to fight. 
Deep inside, he’s a wild spirit just wanting to live, to be free. And it scares him that you’d follow him to the ends of the Earth, that there isn’t much thinking involved, just doing. The lack of autonomy stifles his soul. How does one know if they’re meant for more? James doesn’t want you to have to suffer the consequences if he can’t figure it out himself.
“I love you honey. So much it hurts me. I just wonder if it’s enough.” 
Your hands clatter onto the table, bumping your half-empty pint of butterbeer as you gather your things, shoving them into your knapsack as his final blow hits your senses. And all he does is watch you, face transfixed as if he sees nothing, like he isn’t making the biggest mistake of his life.
There’s no going back after this, you think silently as you steady your trembling hands. There’s also no way in hell you’ll let him see you cry. Fuck that. Your eyes fall over the curls that drape over the frame of his glasses, his face cradled by candlelight and dear Merlin, do you love this boy. All of him, even the parts that don’t reciprocate the feeling. This is the final snapshot in your memory of him, because this fleeting moment will have to be enough.
“I hope you get everything you ever wanted James. For my sake, I hope I never hear a thing about it.”
Perhaps having the last word will absolve you of the feeling that desecrates your entire essence as you put one foot in front of the other, pushing past the door of the Three Broomsticks and out into the unknown. But it’s not enough.
The break in routine absolutely shatters you, if we’re being honest. A year and a half of loving him, and three more before that of liking the slow steady burn that is James Potter…. It’s like looking at the world with new eyes and this window of opportunity with graduation nearing is your chance of starting anew. There’s also the custodial aspect after the end of a relationship, and it’s hard to separate the rest of what’s yours and his in your mind. Your friends are his, and his are yours. It makes quite a predicament to not have things so easy as they consider who to eat lunch with, or who’s dorm to hang out in. Hopefully, things get easier with time but you’re not as confident as you once were.
A part of you feels like you don’t belong anywhere anymore. James is the sun, after all; a natural leader— everyone revolves around his ingenious ideas and the light he brings. He’s the one who always has a plan, and everyone follows in his stead. Where do you fit in all of that? Where do you go?
His parents are likely the loveliest people to ever grace the wizarding world. Euphemia catches you by the arm after the graduation ceremony as you’re about to take the 7th year boat back across the Black Lake. With no family in attendance and no boyfriend to dote on, niceties were expended quick enough to want to run out of there and never look back.
“Darling, are you leaving without a goodbye?” Mrs. Potter smiles, calling her husband over both with grins made of sunlight. 
Somehow it resonates in your brain that it’s finally over, and your lip trembles when they pull you in for a hug that rivals your hunger to be loved. You think that even if your parents showed up today, it wouldn’t have felt this kind.
“Congratulations dearest! We’re so proud of you,” Fleamont rumbles, a big man with an even bigger heart as he brandishes flowers out of thin air to hand to you daintily. You’re going to miss them terribly. Is it wrong to want more of this? But you remember why it’s not as James’s cologne floods your senses and his silhouette creeps into your periphery. Your smile grows smaller as you two stare at each other and breathe the same air for the first time in almost a month. Whatever’s thrumming in your being, he holds the key to. Mr. and Mrs. Potter try to loop you into a photo together, the magical kind that moves to capture a memory so intimately but both of you stand perfectly still as his and your hesitant dismissals go unheard.
Loving hands fuss over both your caps and the way hair sticks out until you feel your shoulders jostle together for a moment and his hand lands on the small of your back. The flash goes off as you two look at each other in something that still resembles love. You can’t unlove him, not in a day, a month, or ever, you think. Not if you’ve bared your soul to him, even if he hurt you. 
You look away first, urging your heart to come back to reality. He’s not yours anymore, and you still love him. Alice told you earlier that he asked Lily out on a date for next Tuesday. What you were supposed to do with that information you’re unsure, but the feeling in your belly helps you say goodbye to the Potters, and clarify that they can keep the picture since you’re not James’ girlfriend anymore. An awkward silence settles over all four of you.
Euphemia rubs your cheek, hushed promises of keeping in touch while Fleamont looks at his son in confusion. James’ hand flexes in the absence of your body against his. He simply watches you walk away again, alone, while he’s surrounded by his friends and his family. The beating of a tiny heart matching your own as you hop onto the boat proves otherwise.
—-
A baby.
You think back to when it must’ve happened, the weekend before that Tuesday, when everything still felt right. With your last exams of your academic career finally done, both you and James were tangled in his silk sheets until dawn, an amalgamation of passionate whispers and lingering touches you could still feel in the days that followed. As you stared at the flutter of his eyelashes and relished the way he pulled you closer in his dream state, you were quite sure that he is, too, tangled within your soul to let go. That your doubts were residual anxiety from preparing for the future. For the first time in a while, you were reaffirmed that the boy sleeping next to you was your forever. Not being careful was a consequence of feeling safe in his arms, and subconsciously, you both hoped that everything would work itself out. As you walked out of the Head Students’ Lounge past noon with James’ hickeys as a necklace and donning your boyfriend’s shirt, you noticed the blush on Lily Evans’ face. You were just so sure, but that felt like forever ago.
Your parents weren’t happy when they came back from their business trip two months after graduation to find you four months along with a prominent bump and filled with so much fear. All plans of getting a job, of moving out, and joining the Order were now replaced with the startling fact that you are 18 and don’t have a single clue on what to do next. Your childhood bedroom feels smaller tonight, with both your parents standing at the door, all of you unsure of what to say. You can’t remember the last time they tucked you in, but as your dad takes a seat on the edge of your bed, it seems possible that maybe you won’t be alone in all of this.
“Whatever decision you make will be the right one, sweetie. If you love that baby, then we do too,” he sniffles, and you don’t recall having ever seen him this emotional before. One thing you are sure of, is this baby is loved, and made from love. The next is that England is not a safe place to raise your baby. 
Somewhere far away, in a hidden place guarded by some of the most experienced wizards, the Order of the Phoenix meets again to determine the future of the wizarding world. James’s eyes dart back and forth from the door to whichever adult is talking about the next mission. You didn’t show up again. All of the meetings so far where he was always the first one to arrive and the last to leave in hopes of getting a glimpse of you, and you never showed. There’s a deep worry that haunts him as the months pass by, and he knows that it would be easy to send you a letter, or to show up at your door, but he’s probably the last person you want to see. 
“We’re going out for a pint, you ready to leave James?” Lily whispers into his ear, arms curling around to his chest. But he’s not ready at all, sat on the sofa with his eyes on the door, just in case. Trying to love someone who’s still in love is a losing battle, Lily thinks, as she watches her boyfriend look like a child missing their favorite blanket. But in a war like this one, no one would be foolish enough to decline company.
“I’ll meet you there,” he smiles, leaning back to kiss her cheek. It’s cruel to both of them, the way he’s acting knowing that Lily won’t ever be you. Every chance he gets to have a moment to himself, he thinks of the despondent look on your face as you walked away from him and his parents that day. No more anger at all, no biting words or the fighting spirit that he knows and loves. Both of you just accepted what was to come.
Sirius and Remus approach him later after everyone’s left that they got word that you moved to America. He thinks of what could’ve been, and the thought of your safety is the only thing that lets his mind rest as guilt pushes and pulls at his heartstrings like waves.
He’s spent these months fighting in the war, loving and losing that he thinks this isn’t anything like the white house and picket fence fantasy you both used to cook up. As he grabs his coat to leave, James wonders if by being away from all of this you’ll get to live the life you want. 
“Okay honey, hold on tight to mama.” 
Your little boy was almost bouncing off the pavement with a chocolate covered grin, and it makes you laugh harder than it should. Maybe Florean Fortescue’s was not the way to start off your son’s first trip to Diagon Alley, but your new job at the Ministry starts tomorrow and you’ve been missing your favorite stationery. The town was packed with people with the war having ended and trying to start anew. You haven’t seen any familiar faces and maybe years ago that was a bad thing, but hope spreads over Diagon Alley with strangers smiling at Christopher as he skips on the cobblestone, almost tripping over his own feet at the entrance of Flourish and Blotts. 
He runs forward to explore the store as you smile at your creation, letting him wander along the aisles as you have done years before. Being back here is like walking through a memory, and though it used to be home, you know yours is walking around in tiny bright red shoes that light up like his smile. Your fingers flip through the different quills and parchment on display, and after finding everything you need, you hear your son’s laughter in the opposite corner of the shop. Motherly instincts always prevail as your feet guide you to the sound of his voice, since he’s never been one to shy away from a friendly conversation.
“Did you find everything you were looking for, honey?”
James’ head whips up from the tiny boy he was entertaining with color-changing quills to see you, and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose to make sure he’s seeing properly. The both of you go quiet as time stands still, with Christopher chattering at your feet. 
“Mama! Look at this one, it goes rainbow!” he says, tugging at your coat to see the quill in James’s hand. The pieces start to fit together in James’ mind, looking at your pursed lip, then to the sight of this boy smiling with the innocence he had a lifetime ago. This boy, his son, has your eyes. You shake your head rapidly as he intakes a breath of air.
“Honey?” he whispers, knowing that was his name for you.
“So what, he looks like a honey,” you say defensively, grabbing your son’s hand.
He looks like my son, his eyes say—both of you look down to the child who’s all grins and none the wiser piping up.
“My name’s Topher!” 
“Yes it is, and now it’s time to say goodbye to the nice man, okay?” Topher pouts and looks up at his father without even knowing it, handing him the quill. 
“Keep it. I’ll pay for it, and then you can write to me,” he says almost desperately, losing grip of everything that he’s been trying to convince himself for the past 7 years. 
“Don’t be weird, Potter. Don’t…” you shake your head, eyes misting over. Seeing him again brought back everything. It was already overwhelming to have a kid that’s almost the splitting image of him, to learn of a love so pure after one that’s wrecked you to your core, but being here, within arms reach… You’re 18 again and scrambling away from the corner booth trying to get away from the man you love most not wanting you in return.
“Honey, why don’t you give us a minute to talk? Go find me some cool enchanted stickers for me to bring to work tomorrow, okay?” Your baby runs off without even questioning it, his sense of adventure also inherited from his father.
“I’m…so sorry.” James moves closer to you, and you take a step back sighing humorlessly.
“For what? He’s an amazing kid. Even though… he wasn’t planned, I don’t think I could ever see my life turning out any other way.” You shift your weight to your other foot. He looks, successful, if that’s something he would be proud of. He’s wearing an impressive suit, and his eyes are a bit hardened by the past few years, but his charisma, his smile…. He’s still the boy you fell in love with all those years ago.
“I feel foolish. I was so scared to live my life and then here you are raising our child…” 
You blink softly at his words, and it reminds him of your youth, all doe-eyed and full of want. You used to want him like he still wants you. In front of him is a grown woman, a mother who’s strong and filled with memories and love that he should’ve been a part of.
“Things happen for a reason, James. We both did what we had to do.”
His hand brushes yours, and you realize you’ve been without his touch for 7 years. 7 years of being scrubbed clean of James Potter, and not a single regenerated cell in your body has been touched by him. But your son is of him, so you think that no matter how this ends, there will always be a part of you that loves James too.
You extend an olive branch to have him come to your apartment this weekend and get to talk. He knows he doesn’t deserve this kindness, but you know he deserves to meet his son.
—-
The doorbell rings and you take a deep breath as you open the front door, looking up at him holding a teddy bear for Topher.
“He’s still down for a nap. Let’s go sit in the den.” You say quietly. The hallway is filled with pictures of your boy, and of you in different stages these past few years. He stops at a portrait of your parents with Topher being swung between them.
“Your parents….”
“Were supportive; I wasn’t alone,” you muse, knowing he knows of your strained relationship with them back then.
“They actually just retired early last year. Overworked themselves and finally comfortable, so they help out when they can. What about yours?” Trying to make conversation with your ex is terribly hard, but it’s in good spirit and there’s not much to do until Topher wakes up.
“They passed, actually. Mum at the end of the war, and dad 6 months after. Never wanted to be apart, you know that.”
Your face falls at his revelation, “I’m sorry for your loss. They were amazing people. Taught me what it meant to be a parent, for sure.” Amicable silence fills the living room before you clear your throat.
“I have to be blunt, James. What do you want from this? You must be married and busy, so if Topher can’t fit into that….”
“I’m neither of those things, honey. I want to try and see where this goes,” he says scratching the back of his neck. 
Your heart stops at his endearment, catching yourself looking at him seriously. 
“You can hurt me, but I’m not letting you do that to him. Back then, you were all I ever wanted love to be. And then I had my beautiful baby, and I suddenly knew my love meant more.”
“I never wanted to hurt you. It was a mistake, because I was too proud to accept that I had it good. That what I had was meant for me.” James grabs your hands, begging for you to understand. The lost boy he was is a lifetime away from the man sitting in front of you now. Though it’s touching, you keep your heart guarded because the little boy sleeping down the hall is your biggest priority. You hope he can understand that too.
“He’s not a placeholder for your dreams of wanting a family. You have to build that, I did that myself. I’m not going to let you string him along and then once you have a family of your own, you just up and leave.” 
“I know. I was hoping the both of you could be my family, if you give me the chance.” You bite your lip as your thumb runs against his. It’s easier to forgive than to forget. But for Topher’s sake, you can try. 
“Tell me something James,” you whisper, having needed to know this for the past 7 years.
“Why did you throw it all away? Was the idea of loving me…so terrible?” He tilts your chin up, and you think that the earnest look on his face is the closure you needed to properly forgive him.
“I’ve never stopped loving you. Loving you is the best part of knowing you. Do you think I ever forgot about you?” He chuckles lowly, brushing back a strand of your hair, and you think this could be dangerous if you let yourself get too close. 
“I’ve thought about you everyday for the past 7 years, I just didn’t think I deserved you after everything I’ve done. I was so stupid, I am still. But I’m trying to be better.”
“You think of me but dreamt of her. Was it guilt?” Your hand grabs his as you move it away from your cheek, settling onto your lap. The air around you is suffocating.
“It took time for me to figure out that it was intention. Lily was a distraction. You’ve consumed me since the day I met you. My dreams, my thoughts… All of it is you. I choose to think about you as much as I can, because if I didn’t I was scared I’d forget all the good things about us back then.”
You both hear a thump from your son’s room and realize you’re wiping tears away. James stands up when you do, and both pairs of your socked feet pad closer to your son’s room. 
“We start this slow. We make decisions together, and if there’s any inkling I get that he doesn’t want this, it’s done. You understand?” Your hands are firm on the doorknob as he’s standing close behind you, hanging onto every word.
“Every word. There’s no turning back from this.” He wants to ask another question, but before he can, your hand unconsciously finds his and your grip is so comforting that he notices himself sniffle. 
“If it all goes well, and if you want, we can try again. But that’s in the far distant future, James Potter.”
“Anything you want, honey. That’s the future I’ve been dreaming of.” With you. Your lips quirk into a smile as they brush against his cheek.
Slowly opening the door to both watch your son wake up from his nap, your hand pulls James into the room behind you. Quietly, he sits on the edge of Christopher’s bed, and when his son looks up at him, you both notice the little boy beaming like the sun. 
—-
“Everything you love is very likely to be lost, but in the end, love will return in a different way.” -Franz Kafka
taglist: @jsjcue
love me some tunes! i listened to this while writing:
night shift by lucy dacus & about you by the 1975
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jarofstyles · 7 months
Note
could u please do a quick lil fluffy one about heavily pregnant y/n and harry at an event like maybe an award after party or something? and her just not feeling great so he takes her home and they have a cute little cozy night in and just him taking care of her
Yes I can, sweet dove!
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-----
"Y'alright?" His voice was quiet, but loud enough for her to hear over the loud chatter and music. His eyes were vigilant on her the entire night and he could visibly see her start to wilt a little bit in the last few minutes.
When she had agreed to go to the show with him, she hadn't anticipated how tiring it would be. How many people she would speak to, how many people would want to touch her belly. The congratulations had been so, so lovely- but if one more person touched her, Y/N would probably cry.
But this was Harry's event, his work, and she wasn't about to risk anything by complaining. She used to attend everything- the rehearsals and late night shows and signings, but with the arrival of their first baby looming over them and the trials and tribulations of a first time pregnancy, Y/N had been down for the count for a bit.
She did well, all things considered. She had stayed active and ate as well as she could -though the powder sugar mini donuts, sprite and salty French fries sprinkled with sugar had been her weaknesses- and ultimately had a smooth pregnancy. However, nearing the end now, her hormones were shot, her body ached, and her feet were swollen.
Sucking it up all night, she had kept a nice face and leaned into Harry's embrace. His hand had rested protectively over her bump, the swollen stomach his pride and joy as well as his most worried about asset, and he had been a doting father to be all night- but she didn't want to ruin anything for him.
It was nearing 1 in the morning, though, and she was shot. Preparations had begun at noon, making it more than 12 hours of hustle and bustle. Y/N craved mint chip ice cream, crisps, and the couch.
"Feet are swelling." Her response was mumbled into his shirt, but she knew he would understand. "Feels like m'standing on needles."
"Darling." His concerned tone matched the cute little furrow of his brow, making her smile. "Should have said something earlier."
"Didn't want to interrupt. This is work, and I got to eat my sweets earlier." That had been part of the incentive, as well as the goody bag. It was wild what people would send celebrities that could easily afford all the products, but Y/N was a woman who took what she could get!
"You're more important than the lot of them. Our son is napping well inside your stomach." He shook his head. "Cmon. We can go home, let me just say goodbye."
"Kay. Can we get my foot spa out when we get home?" She asked as she followed him to grab their coats. He had gotten her one that heated the water and acted like a mini jacuzzi for her aching feet and it had been one of her favorite things ever.
"Course. I'll get the nice smelling lotion and rub them after, hm? Need you comfortable too. Did you want to stop and get some chips?" His thoughtfulness made her tear up, sniffling before she cursed the hormones. This was common and irritating but she couldn't help it.
"Y-You read my mind. Milkshake too?" She peeped, wide, teary eyes looking up at him with hope. No good fast food run was complete without it.
"As if I could say no to you, my darling." A kiss was pressed against the side of her head as he called for the valet. "Your wish is my command."
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moonahyeon · 1 month
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I just shifted this morning 😭 FOR THE FIRST TIME !! I’m so excited that I finally did it but why am I kinda disappointed it was so normal.. I feel like I’m not as happy as I thought I’d be, shifting for the first time. I had all these expectations, yknow? plus rn I’m not doing the best physically bc of how nauseous I feel from traveling irl (like in my CR) to another continent so that might be affecting my mood.
how? 🌸
I finally took a break from trying to shift to my kpop dr so I could organize a new script for it in notion. So I decided I would try to shift to my waiting room for the mean time. I saw @pinkerinos story on how they shifted after I woke up at like 10am in the morning and it motivated me sm I wanted to follow what they did. thank you to them 🙏🙏 I was really tired when I woke up and wanted to go back to sleep but felt musty so I washed up and tidied my room. Until I went back to bed, I said affirmations (some in my head, most out loud). I didn’t use a method but I was saying things like “shifting to my waiting room is “easy-peasy lemon squeeze-y”. yeah it’s kinda cringe 😭 but I was trying to make it catchy so I would remember it.
I didn’t have to do a 500 hour meditation, or even specify if it was an awake or asleep method. Looking back I think I shifted out of pure delusional confidence. I didn’t shift to my waiting room or any dr I had scripted for. I think my intentions got mixed up because I shifted to a reality where I had my kpop dr face/body. But I wasn’t an idol. I lived in a coastal town in sk and spoke and thought in korean when I’m not fluent in this reality. I hadn’t realized I shifted until I was in the elevator of my apartment complex heading downstairs to work (I lived on the second floor but their were shops/plaza on the first floor). When I realized I shifted to some random reality I didn’t care it wasn’t my DR and stayed for the sake of having shifted. My initial reaction was to hit myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming but in general I felt normal? — is that common for anyone else❔
I think the fact I’m somewhere where it’s summer/the beach affected the place I shifted to.
has this happened to anyone? I shifted back to a dream bc in my OR I was still sleeping. After spending 5-7ish hours in that reality I shifted back willingly bc it was jus a regular life, labor, and I had to deal with annoying ass customers. 😭😭 when I came back I woke up in a dream?? I don’t lucid dream so my memory is distorted from that point on. I woke up irl soon after and started to doubt myself .. was it all a dream?? But there were too many reasons it wasn’t “just a dream”.
reasons why it wasn’t a dream:
I have a dream journal and every dream I’ve had has been sporadic and irregular with time. In the reality I shifted to time was “linear” and I remembered the past, experienced the present, and worried about the future.
When I have a dream I’m never “present”/aware I only remember what I experience after I wake up. But in that reality I felt everything happen in the present like it would in my OR.
Also I had such complex memories/thoughts I couldn’t even think of as a 14yr old in my OR.
srry if this storytime was too long and or boring 😭 I’m not a blogger or someone who posts. I’m more of an observer but I wanted to share my story!
Also tysm to the shiftblr and loa girlies I couldn’t have shifted without them!! 💗💗 they gave me such a different perspective on shifting compared to shifttok.
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spdrvyn · 9 months
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full stomachs, fuller hearts — MIGUEL O'HARA
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SUMMARY: miguel has gotten used to eating dinner by himself so you decide to change his nightly routine.
THIS FIC CONTAINS: literally nothing but pure unaldulterated fluff. gender neutral terms mostly but querido is used once.
NOTES: OKAY so this was actually a request for someone but i was a dumbass and accidentally POSTED the draft when i meant to save it for later, i panicked and deleted the post so now i lost the request from my inbox forever 💔 whoever that dude was i hope you find this and i hope you enjoy
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Lonely dinners were always a common occurence for Miguel.
That was just how things are. After a long and drawn out day of protecting the multiverse, protecting the city, protecting everything that he's built up and coming home to a desolate penthouse.
It was the norm for him, he had grown accustomed to it. Being isolated in general wasn't a foreign concept to him, but you brought more change to his life that he thought he would hate.
He loves you a lot. You two had been in a committed relationship for a few months now but haven't moved in yet. The every few hours during a day that you would get to visit him or perhaps he could swing by to your apartment were the only times he felt some sense of warmth in his cold, silent life.
It's not like he didn't want to ask you to move in, he does. Oh, so badly. It's just that the constant fear that he's going too fast or getting too excited over this newfound love. He doesn't want to scare you away.
There was also just a small part of him that was getting too used to being around you. It's gone to the fact that whenever he ate dinner, he'd always imagine you on the other side of that table, laughing and sharing stories about how you're day went.
When he snapped out of it, the sight of the empty chair across him brought his spirits down even more.
You were aware of this too.
Which was why you were up at the wee hours of the night, trying to watch an online video recipe for making empanadas. You knew how to cook enough meals to get by but you wanted to try something different for Miguel.
The bar was set a little bit higher this time. You've been over at Miguel's place before and he has cooked for you and every single time you've tried his dishes they were utterly delectable.
You didn't only want to make all of this food for him just because he's constantly eating alone but because he's really expanded your tastebuds ever since you two developed a much more intimate relationship. You could at least owe him one homecooked dinner.
Reminders to yourself, thank Lyla for letting you in and don't blow up Miguel's penthouse.
As you followed the tutorial step-by-step, you couldn't help but let your mind wander a little further. You wondered how Miguel was doing right now.
Yes, he's strong and agile in an almost inhuman way but at the same time you still worried for him. If only he could be here right now, you'd love to have the opportunity to cook with him.
He was grateful that you weren't in the present moment with him right now, his stomach growl in anticipation for it's next meal as he was running and swinging from rooftop to rooftop to get back to his penthouse.
There were many obstacles that he encountered on the way back. The classic old lady getting her purse snatched which gave him severe déjà vu, a bank robbery, and a cat stuck in a tree.
He grew progressively exhausted with each stop, not forgetting that he had his actual duties at the headquarters that he just left from. Sore muscles and a throbbing head, a painful combo for Miguel.
Maybe he should just skip dinner altogether and opt to immediately pass out on his bed, showering in the morning and having a very heavy breakfast. Yeah, that would work...
He glares into the window of his penthouse, not because he was hesitant to make the jump but because the lights were open. He was sure that he left all of his rooms in complete darkness before leaving.
With one final jump, his claws dig into the edge of his window as he pulls himself up. His eyes narrow, in attempts of getting a good peek of what exactly was going on.
An intruder, a home invasion, Lyla having a party without telling him were all of his possible theories.
What he didn't expect was to see you setting up his plate on his kitchen island, plates of delicious smelling food prepared as well.
There was an intrusion, that's for sure. The intrusion of blush on his cheeks, which he quickly had to shake as he took his mask off.
However, as quickly as it disappeared, it came back once he saw the look on your face the moment you noticed his presence.
Pure glee and warmth is how he'd describe it. It's also how he'd describe the embrace that you immediately pull him into, throwing the silverware that you were readying.
It's not like he hesitated to touch you either, he wrapped his arms around you. So glad that he gets to bask in your existence again, bask in you.
"What's all this, querido?"
You separate from Miguel for a brief moment before walking over to the kitchen counter, proudly showing off your creations. "Empanadas and menudo!"
It was like stars clouded Miguel's vision as it all goes through his mind. You came to his house, fixed up a whole meal for him, and for what? He doesn't remember getting you any gifts recently.
So why?
"Are you just going to stare or are you going to try one?" chuckled you, at least it got Miguel to snap out of his daze. His hands reaches out to one of the empanadas and he takes a bite.
Okay, if he was being honest, he's tasted much better before.
But you put so much thought, so much time, and so much care into making this for him. All of those qualities overshadowed the taste and dryness of it, filling his stomach with something else entirely.
This was probably one of the best empanadas he's ever tasted.
"It's really good." He says, swallowing the last of his food, "Best that one I've ever tasted, mi cielo." Then leaning in to press a small kiss to your forehead, warm hand cupping your cheek.
"You're just saying that, Miguel. I tasted them before you got here and they're really dry."
"Still the best I've ever tasted."
He continues to plant kisses on you, trailing from your forehead to the bridge of your nose to your cheek then boarding at your lips, you giggle into the kiss but before it progresses any further, he stops and pulls away.
"Do you want to move in with me?"
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request rules here, masterlist here
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shotmrmiller · 3 months
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Needs must
Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader
WC: 2.1K
TW: prostitution, explicit fingering, and smut-ish.
ive got 4 other ideas for this goddamn escort au and one of em is MY BOY JOHNNY. oof i cant wait. im mad it took me this long to do this. I wrote this listening to rich sex by nicki minaj.
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You had needs. No matter how magical, a toy can only do so much for you. You wanted the praise of another human being—the warm touch of their hands around your waist, your neck. God, you needed to get laid. But after the disaster that was your last relationship, how nasty it ended, you couldn’t even ring your ex-girlfriend up for a booty call. 
Sucking your teeth, you look at your phone. Noon. Well, maybe one of your friends you’re about to meet up with for a weekly Saturday brunch knew someone who would be interested in a no-strings-attached situationship.
Flipping the card in your hands,  you chewed on your bottom lip in deliberation and looked down at the business card— the color of bone with raised black lettering. Ghost, it read, with his number on the back. How you ended up with this in your hand made you almost regret having reprobates for friends. An escort. That’s what they had shamelessly suggested. You had almost choked on your eggs benedict when one of them pulled out a contact card from their wallet and placed it by your mimosa. I mean, really. Preparing to argue about their lack of sense, they brought up a great point. It was either this, someone who was there for what you needed whenever you needed it, or your toys which were in a pathetic state from constant use. Your ex called it quits because you simply couldn't find the time to maintain a proper relationship— your demanding job took up most of it. You couldn’t believe you were about to do this.
Ghost. What a name. But you suppose it didn’t matter what his name was, only that he could do his job, and with the way your friend gushed over him— he’d leave you walking side to side. You needed this. You worked too hard for too many hours to not spend your money on some self-care. 
Fuck it. Maybe he will be just a one-time thing, you thought, and sent his number a text. 
Closing the door of your car, you briskly walk towards the small cafe Ghost had sent the address to; A cute little quaint coffee shop. Coming to a stop, you straighten your office skirt and run a hand through your hair before opening the door. Breathing in the coffee aroma, you look around for who you’re looking for, spotting him sitting in the back. The click of your heels echoes inside the cafe, catching the attention of your awaiting companion. He looks up and rises to stand, and it takes you aback. It was like witnessing a grizzly standing on its hind legs. Jesus.
He was tall, so tall, and broad. Wearing a black beanie and covering the lower half of his face with a mask, he extends his arm out to shake your hand, and you internally scream at how shapely his arm alone looks over his long-sleeved shirt. 
“I’m Ghost. It’s a pleasure, love.” 
Choking back a moan at his accent, you put your hand in his and say, “No, I’m sure it’ll be all mine.” You can see his dark eyes crinkle at your quip. 
“If we get through this smoothly, the next time we meet I’ll make sure of it.” 
As you let out a playful laugh, Ghost reaches for the back of your chair, pulling it out with a chivalrous gesture. “And a gentleman? You definitely know how to sell yourself.” 
“No, love. This is just a common courtesy. I don’t need t’tell you that I’m good,” and in one smooth motion, he extracts a sleek, forest green matte folder from the leather business bag lying at his feet.
“I need this filled out, just the usual— hard and soft limits. Safewords, nicknames, allergies, and so on.” You pick up the folder and open it, skimming over the contents of the front page. 
“This really is your job.” You flick your eyes from the folder to him and he’s already looking at you, watchful and steady. 
“O’ course it is. I take my clients, and future clients, seriously. I enjoy wha’ I do but it will never be at the cost of another. I will not make you uncomfortable in any way, nor risk your health. I aim to please you, not the other way around. And I cannot do tha’ if I don’t know tha’ you’re allergic to latex or completely against something I might do.” 
He gives a slight cough, and you divert your attention from the paper and meet his gaze. “What’s a pretty thing like you seeking out someone who offers these types of services?” and a lighthearted chuckle escapes you.
“The same reason the one who gave me your card did— just looking for a good time, no commitment.” 
He raises his eyebrows at that but makes no further comment. Smart man. Glancing at your wrist, you check the time. “Right,” and lean forward to get up when Ghost shoots up from his chair to pull out yours. “I’ll have your folder ready for you by the weekend,” and turn your head to face him.
“Is that when you’ll want this, then?” and you give a casual shrug. 
“If you happen to be available.” He reaches out and gently grabs your hand to pull you in for a tight embrace. Softly, he whispers in your ear, “I’ll be seeing you then, love.”
You leave with a silly little grin on your face.
The weekend comes and you’re a puddle of nerves. You can’t remember the last time someone made you this anxious. The knock on your door startles you out of your inner ramblings. It’s time. Taking in a deep, calming breath, you open it. 
Ghost calmly walks in, and starts taking off his mask, and then leather jacket.
“I’ve one absolute limit I forgot to mention,” he says in a firm tone. “I do not kiss. It is not a negotiation.” 
Well, you couldn’t give a damn if he didn’t. Nonchalantly, you shrug and say, “And mine is that we always use a condom.” With a nod and a chuckle, he eagerly grabs the folder from your table and starts flipping through its pages.
“A’right, love. Go get on the bed f’me.” The smirk he gives you is positively wicked. “I saw tha’ you have like to be told wha’ to do.” He jerks his chin towards your room. “And take everything off.” With nervous excitement, you run off, haphazardly tossing your clothes on the floor.
Eyes covered with a blindfold, all you hear is your shaky breathing and his footsteps on your plush rug. Your nerves feel exposed, raw. As you lie on the bed, you suddenly feel a firm grip on the flesh of your thighs, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps. The room's cool air contrasts with the warm heat radiating from his touch, pulling a hiss from your lips as he pulls you toward the edge of the bed.
“Atta girl, love. Open your legs f’me, lemme see that pretty pussy.” The lack of eyesight helps you to focus on his touch alone, making you fearless, and your legs drop open without hesitation as you lie on your back.
“Look at tha’. Aren’t you just a dream? Hm?” he puts his hands on your knees, keeping your thighs open, wet cunt exposed. “And you waxed, too. Hope tha’ wasn’t f’me.” You feel a fingertip slide from your hood, down to your clit and hole, spreading your juices around the labia and back up. Your nerves are on fire, your pussy clenching around nothing, forcing juices to drip down to your arsehole.
“A’right, pretty. Touch yourself. Shove your tiny little fingers into your,” he pauses to suck the skin of your inner thigh, “cunt and show me how to make you feel good.” He then moves his mouth closer to where you need it most, and bites. Are you defying me? Did you suddenly become deaf as well, once I blindfolded you?” and you aggressively shake your head. 
“No! No, sir. I hear you, loud and clear.” With a tight squeeze to your thighs, he says, “Then do as I say.” Moaning, you slowly bring your hand down, starting from your chest. Your palms rub against your pebbled nipples, down to your soft stomach, until your fingertips meet your swollen nub, then move in soft, tight circles, mewling at the feeling. The groan that reaches your ears is so lewd, you could come from that alone. 
“Tha’s it, baby. You’re doing so well. Look at how wet you are, fuck, show me just how you like it.” And you do. A vulgar noise comes from your hole once you stuff yourself with one finger, slowly stretching, before adding another. It’s something, but not enough, not what you want. Not thick enough, long enough, and that thought makes you whimper in disappointment. 
“Aw, are your fingers not satisfying? I’ll help you, sweet, only because you look so delicious spread out f’me like this. So vulnerable, bare.” His breath fans over your cunt, over your clit, and it sends a jolt up your spine— but he doesn’t move, doesn’t touch. It feels like you’ve been waiting for hours until he finally, finally, pushes a thick finger into you, and curls it, rubbing against the right spot, over and over, and then pushes in a second, threatening to tip you over the peak. The feeling is intense —your walls clench around him firmly in your rising pleasure.
“Oh, g-god, Ghost pleasepleaseplease,” squealing as you fuck yourself on his hand, and when your hypersensitive nerves pick up on the sensation of his scorching mouth on your clit, with a pulsating suction, your muscles tighten and tremble, to the point of pain, until Ghost gives one hard suck, forcibly pushing you off the edge. The wail you let out is ear-splitting— as ecstasy slams into your body, like waves crashing at shore. Your thighs squeeze Ghost’s head irrationally tight, but he doesn’t care, just groaning into your core, lapping up your juices like a dehydrated man who’s found an oasis. Your body stings— prickles from the vicious high you’re riding—chest heaving with sobs from the sheer force of it, fingernails digging into Ghost’s scalp, yanking on his hair. As your soul melts back into your body, you absentmindedly thank all the bloody gods for having friends who really do look out for you. 
Whimpering pathetically, your limbs go limp, loose, heavy. Ghost easily picks your body up and moves you toward the center of the bed, vertically, the blindfold still robbing you of your vision. 
 With a grunt of effort, his hand firmly settles by your ribcage, sinking into the softness of the bed, and then he slips a folded pillow beneath your hipbones, expertly arching your spine into a delicious angle. His hand firmly connects with your rear, not just once but twice, feeling the exquisite sting of it. The room falls into silence, only to be interrupted by the clinking sound of his belt buckle. Your body tenses as you hear the unmistakable sound of plastic being torn open, and then you feel his thick and warm shaft teasing your entrance. A moan escapes your lips as he penetrates you, his movements slow and sensual, until his hipbones press against your backside. Taking his time, he slowly pulls back his length, dragging it against your slick walls, before pushing forward again, covering your body with his own. His right hand is flat on the bed by your right shoulder, while his left curls around your neck, gently forcing your head to tilt back onto him. The tip of his head grinds against the entrance of your womb. 
He moans softly into your ear, before quietly purring, “Let’s see how many more orgasms I can wring out of you, pet.” The tightening of his makeshift necklace around your throat is your first and last warning of what is to come.
He pulled four. Four gut-wrenching, shattering orgasms before finding his own release. He left you a drooling, sloppy, sweaty mess on your bed, completely languid and relaxed. Somewhere, you faintly hear your phone ping with a notification. Hissing as you get up, you limp to your living room, and see it on the sofa. Unlocking it, you see that it’s Ghost, sending you his Cash App information. Holding in a chickle, you send him his money and wait for his confirmation. 
It was a real pleasure, doll. Let me know when you need me again.
Cackling to yourself, you place your phone back on the table. 
Bastard. 
He knows you’ll definitely be seeing him again.
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lustspren · 10 months
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P.S.T EP. 1 | As You Wish ft Yuna
length: 10.2k words✦
Shin Yuna & Male Reader. 
genres: footjob, thighjob, foot worship, public sex, blowjob, oral sex, creampie  ✧ 
✦✧✦✧✦✧
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The night you came home after the Spa session with ITZY was one of doing everything on autopilot, you didn't really pay attention to what you were doing, your mind kept on what had happened a few hours ago, and above all, in the difficult, incredible and terrifying request that Yeji had made of you.
Normally your mind was scheming every second that passed, but the moment where you overthought things the most was when you went to sleep. You thought about many things with the blanket up to your chest and your gaze fixed on the ceiling, and the question that most frequently occurred to you was 'am I really up to it?'. The work you had done with them, even with the limitations already imposed by the work environment, had been impeccable, otherwise you wouldn't be in the situation you were in, but you couldn't help but think that the pressure could work against you at any time, even knowing that you were not going to have any limitations of any kind.
And well, the other questions that occurred to you were stupid things that your head threw at you just to piss you off, such as: 'What will they do if I don't please them? JYP is going to disappear me into a pool of sulfuric acid?' or also 'If I do something they don't like, will they cut my dick off?'. Quite normal questions that the human brain asks in stressful situations.
That night you went to sleep restless.
———————————————————————
The next morning you woke up to a message on your phone from an unknown number, but from the way it was written you could easily tell that it was from Hwang Yeji. The message didn't contain much, it was just a greeting, an address and a warning that emphasized that you should not arrive before 5 pm. You clearly weren't going to argue against that.
It was 10:13 in the morning on a Sunday, and despite having slept for more than 9 uninterrupted hours, you felt like a Bear whose hibernation was interrupted by a tremendously unavoidable situation and who hated his life. You made a quick breakfast, cereal and a couple of oatmeal cookies, and turned on the small TV in your kitchen to catch the day's news.
The truth was that you didn't even watch the news, your gaze was lost in nothing while your arm spooned cereal into your mouth from time to time, too busy thinking about what the hell you were going to wear to go, and that was just the beginning of the day.
———————————————————————
2:43 PM and you were still sitting on your bed, staring at your wide open closet as you pored over your options. You had never felt so Grinch in your life, you even made the faint of lying back on your bed and saying: 'That's it I'm not going', but your common sense made you realize that this was tremendously stupid .
In the end, enlightenment came to you on its own, you didn't want to dress like you were going to a Met Gala, but you didn't want to dress like a bum either. You opted for khaki baggy pants, white trainers, a gray hoodie, and a black baseball jacket with white over it. You saw yourself in the mirror a couple of times, and surprisingly, you considered that you were perfect for the occasion.
You left your building at around 3:03 PM, took your car and drove to the address written in Yeji's message. It was about 10 minutes driving until you arrived, realizing that you were in a residential villa, and that Itzy's bedroom was a 3-story townhouse. You weren't surprised at all.
The townhouse was a little further apart from all the others. Located on the hillside and not far from the forest. You had to admit that it was a beautiful, peaceful place with beautiful views, perfect so that no one would ever think of finding them there. Clever to say the least.
You parked the car on the road a few meters from the gate and got out of the car while you put the keys in your jacket pocket. You stood in front of the gate, and you stared at a camera located to the right for a few seconds until you took out your phone to tell Yeji that you were outside. You only received an 'I know' as a response. You saw the camera again and waved.
Less than five minutes passed when the automatic gate began to open, and when it reached halfway, you found yourself face to face with Yeji herself, as radiant and beautiful as she always was despite not even wearing makeup. She was wearing black sweatpants, gray crocs, and a white tank top with no bra underneath. Your gaze went to the clearly visible nipples for a moment, but then back to her eyes.
"Hello there, oppa," Yeji smiled with her gaze fixed on you, her hands clasped behind her back, "Welcome, I didn't think you'd be here so late."
"Hi! Thank you" you greeted back with a friendly smile, walking past her to stand on the other side of the gate, "Well, actually I spent most of the time debating with myself, sorry."
"Oh, you didn't want to come?" She raised an eyebrow in the most dangerous way, and then stepped forward to stand mere inches from you, "Did you think you'd miss out on the chance to get our pussies as much as you want? Really?"
"Well, if you say it that way..." you were going to finish the sentence until Yeji put her hand on the back of your neck and pulled you towards her so that you were inches from her face.
"You don't turn down an offer like that, darling, it would be sacrilege," she took one of your hands and brought it to one of her tits, so that you could feel and squeeze it over the fabric of her tank top, "And I would take that as an offense to us," she approached your lips as if to kiss them, you felt her breath, but as soon as your lips brushed, she pulled away from you.
"I… right, fuck, I'm sorry," you took a deep breath, closed your eyes and exhaled to calm yourself, "wasn't that a little risky doing that out here?"
"Nah, we live alone, it's safe enough here to do that," Yeji turned around and started walking towards the house, you followed her close behind.
"That sounds too good to be true," you commented, looking at the rectangular pool you were surrounding and the crystal clear water flowing through.
"Well you're right, our manager comes every day to check that everything is fine and in order," you walked to the right, straight towards one of the glass doors. Yeji opened it by sliding it to the left, and made you go in first, "But he only comes in the morning, and as soon as he arrives, he's gone."
Yeji guided you through the giant and beautiful house, giving you a quick mini tour of just the places you passed. You got to the second floor, and as soon as you climbed the last step, you found yourself facing another glass door that led to one of the balconies, where there was what appeared to be a large rectangular jacuzzi with two steps.
"Fuck, they spared no expense," you muttered, looking out.
To the right of the glass door were the stairs leading to the third floor, and you barely glanced left to see a familiar face in the room at the end of the hall. You and Yeji walked in that direction, and now you were in what was the living room of the house.
"Oh my, look who we have here," Ryujin said playfully, sitting with her legs drawn up on the far left of the giant beige leather sofa, which spanned at least 10 feet horizontally. She wasn't even fully clothed, just wearing a baggy black sweater and blue panties.
Ryujin wasn't the only one on the couch. To the right, slightly away from her, Chaery was lying, staring at her phone and her head resting on the armband, which you were sure was more of a pillow, and the sofa could also be used as a bed. She was also still in her pajamas, extremely short white shorts and a loose-fitting shirt of the same color.
"Hi girls," you greeted with a smirk and a little bow to both of them. Ryujin got up only to give you a peck on the cheek and sit back down, but Chaery just waved at you with her view still on her phone screen.
"Oh, don't mind her, she just woke up and she hates us all," Yeji said, leaving you standing where you were and entering an unseen hallway to your left. You assumed that she led to a bathroom.
"It's 3 in the afternoon, are you serious?" you chuckled.
"She fell asleep late watching an anime on Netflix," said another person to your left who you hadn't noticed because of how quiet and still she was. You turned to see Lia, sitting on the counter in the corner of the kitchen, next to the outlet where she had her phone connected. She did go with ordinary two-piece pajamas, blue cotton shorts and a tank top of the same color, however, she was not wearing a bra either.
"Which one?" you asked, with your hands in the pockets of your jacket to take a few steps forward and analyze the entire room, you were unable to calculate an exact price for such beauty, but the oak wood floor and furniture, together with the intrinsic system of lighting in the whole house had to be worth 10 times more than your apartment.
"The Seven Deadly Sins..." Chaery replied, her voice sounding as if her soul had been sucked out of her.
"Damn, you wasted your time, I'm sorry," you winced.
"Please don't remind me," she sighed.
"Hey, want to have a seat? You're getting on my nerves standing there," Ryujin said, patting a space next to her. You went and sat down. Sitting there you could see the rest of the space, in front there was a small brick wall that matched the floor, a boiler on the lower right side with a compartment to store firewood on the left, and installed higher up, a TV about 50 inches where they were watching Bluey. To the left of the brick wall, another glass door that also led to the balcony.
"Oh, where is Yuna? I haven't seen her," you said, watching the show with Ryujin.
"She must be in her room doing who knows what, she's been there ever since she woke up," Yeji replied, leaving the hallway she entered a few minutes ago and walking towards the kitchen. It wasn't even 5 seconds after Yeji said that when you saw a pair of feet go down the steps that led to the third floor.
"Speaking of Helen of Troy..." Ryujin muttered next to you.
Yuna patiently walked down the steps, as if she were the princess of a fantasy kingdom whose suitors they were eager to see, but her face and aura didn't take her too far from that status tho. She looked utterly charming to you. Pink pants, tight cropped t-shirt with an evident push-up bra, and white sandals that let her pretty feet shine. As icing on the cake, she wore a little pink hair pin on one side of her head. Inevitably your gaze went straight to her delicious bare midriff, she seemed to notice, because when you looked up to meet her eyes, she followed them until your eyes met.
"Hi oppa," Yuna greeted you with a smirk, her hands clasped behind her as she joined you in the living room.
"Hi, my lady," you joked, returning the smirk.
"You were still in your panties when I left the bedroom before he arrived, how did you do it so fast?" Yeji asked from the kitchen, pouring herself apple juice into a glass.
"I saw him coming through the window," Yuna replied puzzled, as if it was obvious.
"Yeah, but you didn't answer my question," Yeji leaned her back on the table, then took a sip of the juice.
"Oh, I just wanted him to see me pretty and dressed up," the innocent little smile returned to her face, "Not like you guys who look like you just got kicked out of bed."
"I was," Chaery said quietly, eyes still on her phone. You held back your laughter.
"Whatever," Yuna ignored her, "Oppa, do I look pretty?" She waved her hair from side to side and then turned to look at you flirtatiously over her shoulder.
"Very pretty, yes," you agreed.
"I know, thanks," she winked at you and turned around again, "shall we go?"
"Uh? Where?" You turned to see Ryujin, with whom you exchanged glances, and she showed you that she was just as confused as you.
"I don't know, take me around," she shrugged, "although now that I think about it, I've been in need of shoes lately."
"Shin Yuna, you have a different pair of shoes for each day of the week," Ryujin said.
"I said I need shoes!" she protested, frowning, "come on oppa."
"Honey, did you forget that you are an idol and that you can't go out like that?" Lia also intervened, "wear a cap, mask and if possible, a coat."
"And you," Yeji said, staring at you, "make sure she doesn't do stupid things."
"She does them normally?" You looked at Yuna, who was playing dumb.
"No, but when she's around a cute guy," Ryujin said, with a mischievous chuckle, "go ahead," she patted your shoulder, and you were forced to get up from the couch.
"I'll wait for you outside, okay? I'll go start the car," you said, stopping in front of Yuna, she looked into your eyes, and you saw her back. Two big glowing orbs.
"Of course," she agreed.
You walked past her, and before you started down the stairs, you stopped.
"Uhm… can someone go with me?" you asked with a nervous giggle, "I don't remember how to get out."
"Don't worry, I'll go," Ryujin got up from the sofa and walked towards you to follow you down the stairs.
"God, thank you," you sighed.
Ryujin led you through the labyrinth they called home again, and when you were crossing the narrow corridor that led to the hall on the ground floor, she stopped you abruptly and pulled you towards her, causing you to pin her against the wall. You froze at the unexpected movement.
"I hate that my turn is still so far away..." she muttered, grabbing your waist, "I already want that dick inside me so bad..." Her hand went straight to your bulge, she squeezed it over your pants, and you were tempted to kiss her, but you thinked twice.
"Stop, Yuna's going to be here any minute," you muttered back, grabbing her wrist and pulling it away from your crotch.
"So what? She and I could suck your cock right here," Ryujin's eyes were fixed on you with great desire and lust.
"No, cutie, I'm sorry, it's her turn, it's her decision," you took the hem of her sweater and brought it up to her waist, held it with one hand, and with the other you rubbed her pussy up and down over the panties. She seemed surprised but not upset, "Relax, I'll make it worth the wait."
"You son of a…" she leaned forward slightly to kiss you, but she bit her lip to contain herself, "get out of here, the gate has a manual control on the side, the password is 120219."
"Very kind, see you later!"
And so you did. You separated from her, left the hall and followed the same steps as when you entered with Yeji. You circled the pool, and went to the gate. You entered the key as it was told, and it began to open slowly.
You went outside and went straight to your car, started it, and drove right to the front of the house to wait for Yuna. The aforementioned left the house a few minutes later, wearing a cap, face mask and black coat, she looked to the sides as a precaution so that no one was watching, and she got into your car.
"Are you ready, oppa?" Yuna asked, pulling down her mask but covering her face even more with the cap, "nice car, by the way."
"Thanks, it cost me two years of savings," you laughed, making a U-turn and starting to drive out of the residential village, "any specific place you want to go?"
"Take me to the Starfield, they have a Louis Vuitton store where they sell very cute shoes!" Yuna answered excitedly, but you only worried.
"You do know that everyone goes to that mall on the weekends, right?" you asked, eyes on the road.
"Oh, come on!" she complained, "No one will recognize me, I will not take off my cap or mask at any time."
"I know you won't, but I fear for some obsessive fan recognizing you just by…I don't know, your body."
"Well, that wouldn't surprise me..." you turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow, "Okay okay, sorry," she laughed, "but I still want to go, I'm a human being! Not a fucking circus animal."
"You have a point," you nodded, returning your gaze to the road, turning around a street to head up the highway, "As you wish, princess."
———————————————————————
You arrived at the mall after a drive of about 10 minutes, it was difficult to find a place to park, but you took advantage of the fact that someone was just leaving to take their place. Yuna put her mask up again, and before she got out of the car you grabbed her wrist.
"Hey, no talking to high concentrations of people, you'd be too obvious," you warned, putting the car keys in your jacket pocket.
"Understood," she nodded, and then you released her to get out of the car.
As you walked through the mall you could feel the tension take over every fiber of your body. You couldn't believe you were on that site with such a massive public figure like her, but it wasn't being with her that made you nervous, it was the fact that any wrong move could get her and you in trouble. You really didn't have to, but you made sure to keep some distance from her just in case.
Yuna was obedient in not speaking, she just silently led you through the shops until you reached the Louis Vuitton store. The storefront was simple, but exuded elegance and exclusivity. And thank God, with the naked eye there were only 8 to 10 people inside.
You entered in the most discreet way you could, glued to the wall without attracting too much attention and going directly to the shoe area. It was then that Yuna moved away from you a bit to be able to carefully examine the shelves and tables. A store worker approached her to serve her, and within a few minutes, she took a pair of slingback shoes from a table with the distinctive brown color of Louis Vuitton and the logos of the brand as a print. The manager left with them, and then returned with the same ones but her size.
Yuna took off her coat and handed it to you, and as you sat down, she took off her sandals to replace them with the pair of shoes she had just chosen.
"Well? What do you think, oppa?" Yuna lifted her leg and made you grab her ankle to get a closer look at her shoe, but you knew well that she did it to make you remember what happened just days ago. The shoes were very pretty, they exposed her ankle and the vast majority of her feet, except for her toes, they certainly looked very pretty on her.
"They look nice on you, but I think you could go for something more… uncovered, perhaps?" you asked, releasing her ankle. Hearing that, the guy serving her showed her a variety of options. Yuna chose some that you recognized, they were champagne-colored eleanor slide sandals, which you also knew were fucking expensive.
She took off her previous shoes and put on her sandals. She repeated the process, and you grabbed her ankle once more.
"Something like that?" Yuna asked playfully, moving her fingers slowly to tease you. You stared at her foot, and your first instinct was to want to grab her toes and start kissing them, but you were in a public place, and you only controlled the flashbacks.
"Those are perfect, cutie, they're a yes," you nodded, and then released her ankle.
She wasn't happy with just one pair, so she had the worker show her more. This time, she chose double-strap sandals in the same color as the first pair she chose and with the same print.
Once again, she made you grab her ankle but with the other foot, and if you had liked the sandals she tried on before, you loved these. You pretended to look down each side of her foot to see the sandal, but it was just an excuse so you could caress her ankle and the sides of her foot with your thumbs. After a few seconds, you released her ankle.
"I must say… they're my favorites so far," you smiled, looking into her eyes, "you should take these, and those," you pointed to the previous sandals.
"Okay... but I think I need to go to the dressing room for a moment, I have some discomfort in my..." she made a move to grab her tits, but she didn't, "you know."
"Uh?" You frowned in confusion, "well, go ahead, I'll be waiting for you out here."
"That way, miss," the worker said, gesturing with his palm toward a hallway farther to the left.
"Thank you," Yuna gave him a small bow, and she turned to go to the dressing room.
Not a minute has passed since Yuna left when you received a photo from an unknown number to your phone. It was Yuna. And it was a photo that had just been taken in the dressing room mirror, which had nothing special, it was just her standing facing the front, without her mask or cap on. What really caught your eye was the caption: 'Hey oppa, I don't think I can do it by myself... can you help me?'
You put your phone away immediately, and the first thing you saw was the worker in front of you. You couldn't just stand up and go in the same direction as Yuna, you had to find an excuse. You thought about it for a few long seconds, so that in the end you ended up resorting to a cheap and typical excuse.
"Excuse me, where are the bathrooms?" you asked, standing up.
"Oh, that way sir," the guy pointed back again, but this time to the other side, to a hallway to the right. Very timely.
"Thank you."
You stood up and walked to where he told you to, but before entering the hallway you stopped, looking over your shoulder and making sure he wasn't looking to run with silent footsteps in the other direction.
The dressing rooms consisted of two rows, one on each side, making a total of 8 changing rooms with closed doors whose lights were all off except for one, one that was at the end of the row on the left, the furthest from the corridor. You walked with slow and silent steps, until you arrived in front of the door. You tapped twice with your knuckle.
"Yuna-ssi?" You called, almost in a whisper.
"Come in, silly, you don't have to be so quiet," she replied a tone higher than you, and then she opened the door for you to step inside.
"What do you need help with?" you were probably being very stupid, but at that moment you didn't get her intentions, who knows why. Of course this would not last long.
"Absolutely nothing..." Yuna took her coat from your hand and let it fall to the ground, getting dangerously close to you.
"So?" You saw her eyes, your head had already reacted, but you wanted to play the fool, "I don't quite understand why you made me come here."
"Don't you get the idea?" she hugged your torso with both hands, making sure to press her tits against your chest.
"Mmm, I don't know, I think you should cut to the chase and that's it," you put both arms around her shoulders and hugged her too.
"I want you to fuck me here and now, oppa..." she muttered without taking her eyes off you for a single second. She then withdrew an arm from around your body and reached down to grab the bulge over your pants.
"Did you go crazy, honey?" You couldn't help but smirk, "They could catch us at any time, it would be such a mess," you bit her lip, as she massaged your cock until it was rock hard.
"I promise I'll be silent... besides, I want to know how it feels to do it in a public place," saying that, she broke the distance between your faces and crashed her lips against yours.
"You better be quiet..." you whispered in the middle of the kiss, your breaths heaving with each passing second, "you better."
You removed her arms from around her neck and now put them around her waist, and she took hers from around your waist to wrap one around your neck as her hand continued to massage your cock. The kiss gradually warmed up, until your tongues began to intertwine inside your mouths. Yuna let out little moans from time to time, and your cock was already beginning to beg to be free.
One of your hands went to her ass, while the other continued to cling to her perfect waist, pressing your fingers into her creamy flesh. Soon that hand joined the other, and with both you gave her ass a strong squeeze that caused her to bite your lip and separate your lips from hers.
"Enough, I want that cock inside me," she reached with both hands to the button of your pants and undid them, and with a strong yank, she lowered them down to your knees including your boxers.
You complete her work, pulling your pants and boxers down to your ankles to get them off your legs. Already naked from the waist down, you kissed her again and grabbed her by the waist to push her against the wall in front of you, you cornered her against it, and then you made her turn around.
Instinctively she pulled her ass back, pressing it against the back of your cock, but you held her still, and began kissing her long neck as you ran your hands around her waist to reach the button of her pants and undo it, then you unzipped it, and grabbed the curb to lower them right down to her ankles. Your only obstacle now was a white thong, which showed off her wide hips and her round buttocks.
"A thong? I didn't know Shin Yuna was so slutty," you murmured in her ear, and she shuddered. You took two of your fingers between her buttocks and rubbed up and down her pussy, noticing that the fabric was beginning to get wet.
"But you like it, don't you?" she reached back and grabbed your cock, stroking it slowly, "I think he loves it," she looked over her shoulder at you with a smirk.
"You're a pretentious bitch, with all due respect," you rubbed her pussy for a few more seconds until you got tired of teasing. You grabbed the seam of her thong and lowered it roughly, not to mention nearly ripping it off. You made her get out of her pants and panties, and with your foot you dragged them until you left them next to your boxer and your pants.
"I know, I love being reminded," that was the last thing she said before you put your hand over her mouth.
"Spit," you ordered, and so she did, leaving enough saliva in the palm of your hand that you quickly brought it to your cock and rubbed it down the length of it until it was well lubricated. You returned your hand to her mouth, but this time for other reasons. You took your cock with your left hand, and took it between her buttocks to rub it up and down against her slit. Feeling this, she arched her back more and more, leaned her hands against the wall and left her ass at your disposal to do whatever you wanted with it.
You pressed your hand to her mouth firmly, making sure no sound came out of it as you gently pushed your hips forward, slowly leaving the first few inches of your cock inside her suffocatingly tight pussy. That she was going to be silent was all bullshit, at least at first, because as soon as she felt you inside her, she let out a moan that, if it hadn't been for the fact that it was suffocated against your hand, would have been heard throughout the room.
Yuna's entire body tensed, it was being difficult to fully get in due to how tight she was, but you were patient, and leaned back from time to time to push at least another inch inside her. You continued with the same procedure until half of your shaft was inside her, you looked into her eyes, and she just nodded, giving you the green light to make the final move.
You pulled out of her pussy one more time, spit into your hand, and salivated as much as you could on your cock before putting it back inside Yuna. This time you pushed more gently into her, and when you reached the previous point, it was as easy as slowly pushing your hips forward of her until you filled her completely with your flesh. Yuna let out another louder and longer moan, and you had to add another hand to her mouth to make her shut up once and for all.
You stayed inside her for a few seconds without moving, letting her tight walls gradually mold to your cock, and after a few seconds, you began to slowly move your hips back and forth, your cock moving completely in and out of her pussy.
Yuna's brow was furrowed as you fucked her at a slow and careful pace, trying to make as little noise as possible, but as much as you wanted to be quiet, having Shin Yuna pinned against the wall while you fucked her from behind warranted more energy from your part. Making sure you had a tight seal on her mouth with both of your hands, you began to move your hips faster, with thrusts that rocked her body back and forth with each crash of your pelvis against her ass.
You were incredibly tempted to do a lot of things, like pull her hair, or grab onto that pretty little waist while fucking her furiously, but you should have just kept at that pace, not slow but not aggressive either, perfect for a situation where you wanted to turn her crazy but not that crazy
Yuna seemed to remember what she had promised you a few minutes ago, as it was fairly easy for you to suppress her little whimpers of pleasure as you fucked her tight, wet pussy as fast as the situation allowed. That wasn't being enough for you, that's why you pulled her towards you and pressed her back against your chest, from that position it was easy for you to fuck her hard without making noise, and you did, starting to move your hips frantically. Inevitably that led to a double effort on your part to drown out her moans, but you didn't give a single fuck.
You were so immersed in your own pleasure that you did not even realize that a person had entered the dressing rooms, you had not heard the footsteps, but you did hear the knocks against your door. You stopped immediately, and Yuna's eyes widened as she looked towards the door to your left.
"Excuse me miss, is everything okay? You can't be in there that long," said the voice of the worker from the other side of the door.
"A-ah... yes! Everything is fine!" Being a bit bitchy, you continued to fuck her, but this time much more slowly and torturously, "I j-juuust need a couple m-more minutes," she gasped, "t-tell the g-guy that came with me that I-I won't be long."
"He went to the bathroom, miss, but when he gets back I'll tell him."
"Very kind, th-th-thank you."
There was silence, and the next thing you heard was the guy's footsteps walking away from the door, and consequently, from the dressing rooms.
"H-holy fucking shit, oppa..." she squeaked under her breath, looking over her shoulder at you, "that cock feels so… so good."
"And you'll feel better, come here."
You pulled out your cock, made her turn around and wrapped your arms around her slender body to give her an upward lift, she got the message and clung to your torso with her long legs, entwining them behind your back. You held her tight in the air, then leaned her back against the wall to push your cock back into her pussy. She was about to moan out loud, but you crashed your lips against hers in a fiery and deep kiss.
Yuna also grabbed onto your neck with both arms entwined around it, and she played with the hair at the nape of your neck between her fingers as you slammed her pussy against the wall. At this point, the noise you made was enough so that anyone passing near the door could perfectly hear the sound of your crotches colliding, but being prisoners of lust and adrenaline at the moment you didn't even think about it.
You untangled her legs from behind your back and went on to hold them yourself in the air, spreading them wide so you could fuck her pussy from the best possible angle. Yuna moaned like crazy against your mouth, and in response you just kept pumping in and out of her pussy without actually crashing your pelvis against her, but making sure that she felt your entire length go in and out of her pussy.
After a few seconds, Yuna grabbed your shoulders and dug her nails into them while her entire body shuddered in an unannounced orgasm. You held her legs tight while she writhed against the wall, and you didn't stop kissing her or fucking her for a single second.
Her pussy walls clenched around your cock so hard you thought she was going to rip you in half, but it felt so fucking good that you couldn't help but moan against Yuna's lips. Your moans overlapped each other, and you soon felt a tingle in your lower abdomen.
"Y-yuna... I'm going to cum, where-"
"Inside," she interrupted between little whimpers, while she was still past the last shimmers of her orgasm and she was looking into her eyes.
"But... are you sure?" you asked, slowing down the pace of your thrusts a bit.
"I prepared myself for this, idiot, just fucking do it," she sighed, smashing her lips against yours again.
You just let yourself go. You resumed your quick thrusts, clinging as tightly as you could to her legs with your fingers. Her pussy gave way for you, now less tight but wetter for your cock to slide in and out smoothly. It didn't take long for you to reach your peak of pleasure, it only took a few more hard pumps until you exploded inside her tight little pussy. You broke the kiss only to let a small moan into the air, moving slowly as you shot all your hot load into Yuna, who seemed to enjoy it as much as you did to feel the fluids rush inside her.
"Fuck… you came so much, oppa," she whispered, biting your lower lip, "it feels so good inside me."
Gradually you stopped between heavy breaths, and you left your cock inside for a few more seconds until you pulled it out very slowly, and as if it were a drain plug, your cum began to spill from inside her little by little to the ground under you two. You looked down, seeing the pool of thick white liquid that formed on the not at all subtle dark floor.
"I'm not cleaning that up," you murmured, your breath still ragged.
"We don't have to either," she chuckled, "thanks oppa, you already fulfilled one of my fantasies," she said with a smirk, giving you a little kiss on the nose.
"You're welcome, cutie," you finally put her down, and she avoided the best she could step on the cum, "You'll go out first, and you'll have to distract the worker while I go out."
"Understood," she agreed, "I'll take the opportunity to go pay."
"Are you really going to take those designer sandals?" you asked, picking up your pants and boxers to start dressing, "I seem to remember that they're fucking expensive."
"Honey, do you forget who I am?" she asked with the air of a pretentious bitch, you certainly weren't wrong a few minutes ago.
"Okay, I'm sorry my lady," you joked, watching her pull on her panties and then her pants.
"I'll see you outside, oppa," she stood in front of you, placed a hand on your chest and gave you a peck on the cheek, "be discreet, okay?"
"Didn't you forget something?" you asked, glancing at her cap and her mask.
"Oh, yeah, sure," she played dumb, as if she clearly hadn't been about to walk out like that, "don't be long," she said after putting on her mask and cap.
Yuna turned around and opened the door a little to see outside, and seeing that no one was coming, she went out and left you there alone. You waited around 5 or 6 minutes on the clock until you came out too, feeling like Austin Powers in one of his misdeeds. Luckily for you, the people who had entered the changing rooms were already inside their respective cubicles, and none of them had seen you.
You walked out of the hallway, and with your balls in your throat, you peeked out to make sure no one was looking your way. You ran to the other corridor, the one that led to the bathrooms, and you left there as if you had been there all this time. When you walked to the place where you were sitting before, you noticed that Yuna was no longer around, you even peeked over to make sure that she was still paying. You double checked that you had everything on you, wrapped Yuna's coat around your arm and walked out of the store, avoiding all possible eye contact with any worker or person in there.
As expected, Yuna waited for you outside the store patiently, with the bag from the store between her feet and her hands clasped behind her lower back. You quickly ran towards her.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" You looked around, making sure no one was paying too much attention to her, "Put your coat on!" you were probably overreacting, Korea was big enough for everyone in the mall to realize that she was who she was, but you'd rather be safe than sorry.
"Oppa, calm down," she laughed, taking the coat from your arm and putting it on with all the patience in the world, "it's not that easy to get recognized as an idol, besides, I have black hair, I could be any average Korean girl. "
"You have a point, but I don't want to be risky," you took the bag from her, and pulled out your phone to check the time, "Hey, can we go now?"
"Yep, let's go!"
You left the mall in a matter of a few minutes, you went to your car, and you left the Louis Vuitton bag in the back seats. You opened the passenger door for Yuna to get in, and then you also got in to start the car, pulling out of the parking lot and heading towards the villa.
"When I drop you off at home tell Yeji to let me know when I can come back, okay?" you said, with your eyes on the highway.
"Oh, do you think the day is over for both of us?" Yuna asked, raising both eyebrows. She had taken off her cap, and she was looking at you with a quizzical expression, "You seem to have forgotten that you almost ate my feet a few minutes ago."
"And you almost didn't put them in my mouth, I think it's your fault too."
"It's just, you see...I really enjoyed our little session when we first met," she placed her hand on your thigh, "and I'd like to repay you well, oppa."
"Oh yeah? And how do you plan to do it?" you made sure you didn't have any cars in front or on the sides before turning to see her.
"I think…" she moved her hand up your thigh a little, near your crotch, "that cock would look really nice between my feet."
You had never stepped on the accelerator so violently in your life, but there was a first time for everything. You drove around 100 km/h on the highway, pulling out all your Baby Driver skills until you hit the road and relaxed your foot. Yuna could only laugh at your despair and sudden interest.
The scene would have been more spectacular if only you hadn't forgotten some crosses, Yuna had to remind you of the way to be able to continue and finally reach the girls' house. You parked the car right in front of the gate, turned it off, and got out to get the bag from the back seats. Yuna beat you to it, and went to open the gate with a remote control that she took out of her back pocket.
"There was a remote control this whole time?!" you asked, closing the back doors, locking the car and walking inside with her.
"Yup, but they were nowhere to find it," she laughed, "it was in my room all this time."
"Damn..." you sighed.
Yuna led the way, and you followed her into the house. You quickly went up to the second floor, and when you went up the stairs, just passing through the corridor was Yeji, who stared at you when you were about to go up to the third floor.
"Don't blame me if I walk in while you're doing it, it's my bedroom too," she warned, then walked out of sight toward the sofa.
"She's kidding, don't worry... or so I think," she hesitated for a moment, "well, follow me."
You followed Yuna up the stairs, took a hallway to the right, and went to one of the doors at the bottom. Yuna opened the door for you, and when you entered, you found a somewhat messy bedroom. There were clothes everywhere on both beds, including panties and bras of all colors and types.
"Did a tornado pass through here or what?" you said, taking a step forward and putting the bag down while Yuna got off her cap, mask and coat.
"Be thankful that we're messy and not dirty, it's just clothes," she got up on one knee on the bed on the right and began to gather all the clothes on top of it into a single pile and then dump it on the floor.
"Is it dirty clothes?"
"... Some," she said, looking down at the pile of clothes, "but let's not waste time on these things, come here, oppa."
She stood facing the bottom edge of the bed, and you closed the distance between the two of you by standing inches from her. You took her by her waist, and she wrapped her arms around your neck before joining your lips in an intense kiss, without intending to be delicate or tender. You planted your dominance from the start, pressing the flesh of her waist between your fingers as you dug deeper into her kiss. Yuna understood that foreplay wasn't even necessary at that point, so she simply sat on the edge of the bed and started undoing your pants once more. She lowered them to your knees, and you helped her off along with your boxers, freeing your still flaccid cock.
Yuna took off her shirt, and then she also took off her bra. Your gaze went straight to her tits, noting that she could very well be Itzy's second biggest after Yeji. You couldn't focus on her pretty tits for much longer as she took your weak cock and began to stroke it slowly.
"Oppa... be patient with me, okay?" she said, looking up, "I've never done this before."
"You don't have to worry, honey," you said, tucking her hair behind her ear and brushing her cheek with your thumb, "go ahead."
"Okay..." she looked down again at your cock, which was slowly starting to get hard thanks to the long fingers of Yuna's hand going up and down.
She leaned forward, and licked her lips before taking the tip of your cock into her mouth. You gasped, feeling the warm relief of her lips sucking slowly until your cock was fully erect. Yuna wrapped her fingers around your base and began to move her mouth little by little towards the middle of your shaft. She looked insecure, you could tell by how she looked into your eyes every few seconds, but the best you could do was nod with your head and keep rubbing her cheek and her hair.
That seemed to give her a little more assurance that she was doing a good job. She took you out of her mouth for a moment to get air, stroking your cock before taking it back inside her. This time she began to move her head at a more fluid and less leisurely pace, never going past the middle of your shaft, but that was enough for her to make you feel pretty good. She didn't give head as well as Yeji or Ryujin, but with a little practice she could become just as good.
During the first minute she dedicated herself to observing you carefully, noticing what movements you liked the most or what she liked that she did, and when she finally studied you, she began to move her head faster in a very messy blowjob. Her pretty pink lips glided smoothly over your hard cock now shiny from her saliva, and you took it upon yourself to let her know you liked it with little moans and facial expressions.
"Try to take more of it cutie..." you gasped, your hand on her head. She hesitated for a moment, but to your surprise, she began to push her head further, and further forward, until her nose was resting against your pelvis, "What the f… holy shit Yuna!" you moaned out loud.
She was able to take your cock down her throat for a few long seconds, but you also noticed that she was struggling as she did so, her face was scrunched up, and she was constantly making gagging sounds. Saliva flowed free from her mouth to her tits, and when she couldn't take it anymore, she took you out of her mouth with a long breath. Your cock was connected to her lips by thin threads of saliva, and you couldn't believe how unbelievably sexy yet cute she looked like that and with the pink bobby pin still attached to the side of her hair.
"Did you like that, oppa?" she said looking into your eyes as she quickly moved your hand up your cock.
"I fucking loved it, how can you do that with no experience?" you asked panting.
"I have a long neck, I don't know if that has anything to do with it," she collected the saliva from her lips with her free hand and returned it to your cock, stroking it with both hands.
"Honestly, I have no fucking idea, but come here, you deserve your due special attention, honey," you grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands away from your cock. Then you took her by her waist, and you made her get closer to the center of the bed and lie down on it.
You took off your jacket and hoodie, leaving yourself completely naked before climbing into bed with her. You placed yourself on top of her body, your two hands on either side of it. You lowered your face towards her neck, giving her small kisses and licks and slowly going down her attractive and marked clavicle. You stood there for a moment, but the two well-formed round mounds below caught your attention. Your mouth went right to one of her tits, sucking and licking her hard nipple while your hand massaged her other boob. Yuna moaned under her breath, and tangled her fingers in your hair as you now slowly lowered from the middle of her breasts to her abdomen. At that point, you made sure to spread a good amount of kisses all over her tummy and waist, and as you reached her lower abdomen, you used your hands to undo her pants, unzip them, and grab the hem of her pants and her panties, lowering both garments slowly until they were off her legs. Now both you and Yuna were completely naked in front of each other.
"Will you give me my special service, oppa?" she asked, biting her index finger, and picking up both of her legs to leave both of her feet in the air right in front of your face.
"Count on it, honey," you grabbed her by both ankles, and brought her feet up to your face to stick one of them directly into your mouth. You sucked on her toes one by one, placing special emphasis on her big toe. You used your tongue to salivate them and lick them all over, and once you were satisfied with one foot, you went straight through with the other to repeat the process.
With both feet salivated, you moved on to the second phase, which was to spread deep, wet kisses along her soles, the sides of her feet, and her ankles as well. You kept worshiping her feet for a few more minutes, until you began to move from her feet to her thighs, passing first through her tibia and her knee.
She instinctively spread her legs wide for you, revealing her pretty, shiny pussy. Your cock was more than ready to go in there one more time, but you had to hold back. You lowered your face until you were right in front of her slit, but that wasn’t your goal for now, but to plant more kisses both on the inside of her thighs and on the bottom, not resting until they were wet from your saliva.
Yuna let you have as much fun as you wanted with her pretty long legs, and so you did, even going so far as to kiss her just inches from her pussy, which was screaming to be eaten. After distributing a few more kisses, you stood up to take her by her ankles again, bring them together in front of you and begin to massage her feet slowly.
"Tell me, miss, do you want your pussy well eaten?" you asked, looking into her eyes and noticing that her face was slightly flushed, "or do you prefer a big cock that fills you up."
"I'm tempted by both options, sir," she played along, while you kept pressing your thumbs on her sole and on the back of her foot, "but I already tried one today, I'd prefer the other option."
"As you wish, ma'am," you released her feet, separated her legs, and leaned forward while holding onto her thighs.
You breathed hot breath over her wet pussy, causing Yuna to shiver a little on her mattress. You played with her for a few more seconds, kissing and licking the contours of her slit until you finally planted your tongue flat between her folds, giving her a slow upward lick that made her moan.
After the first lick you began to move your tongue slowly up and down, tasting her silky folds to give her clit a very light suction. Yuna grabbed your hair and started moaning constantly. You kissed far and wide without stopping to use your tongue for a single moment, Yuna's fingers got tangled in your strands, and you responded by licking her pussy faster now.
In no time you were eating Shin Yuna's delicious pussy for dinner. You focused on her clit right away, giving it frantic lashes with your tongue. Her moans quickly turned into squeals of pleasure, and she began to arch her back every time you touched one of her sensitive spots. You looked up, watching her chest heave up and down as she played with her own tits, squeezing and pinching her nipples.
You pressed your fingers harder against the flesh of her thighs, making sure she didn't move them for a single second despite the fact that she had already had some prior reflexes. Her adorable whines were music to your ears. You continued to attack her clit with the tip of your tongue, occasionally dipping down her folds to collect her delicious fluids. You decided to stick a bit of your tongue inside her entrance, and as soon as you did, she let out a louder squeal. Noticing that she had enjoyed it, you left your tongue inside her and began to move it in circles as fast as you could. Yuna pulled your hair so hard you thought she was going to rip it out, and it wasn't long before she exploded in your mouth.
Yuna squirmed like a rag doll on the bed, and you held her tightly against the mattress so that her pussy wouldn't move away from your mouth while you stuck your tongue out of her and licked her folds from top to bottom. You didn't stop eating her pussy, you just lowered the intensity considerably until her orgasm gradually reduced her spasms, that's when you released her thighs, which she simply dropped to each side of your body.
You gave her pussy a few more licks, wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, and straightened up to meet her eyes.
"Satisfied, ma'am?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'll be more satisfied when you use my legs and feet to cum, oppa..." she muttered between heavy breaths, seeing your hard cock still sticky from her saliva.
You didn't even think twice before grabbing her legs and putting her on her side. You lifted her left leg, spit on your cock, letting it rest against her right leg, then lowered the leg you'd lifted back down to leave your shaft in a smooth sandwich of soft flesh. Yuna looked into your eyes, bit her lower lip and looked down, seeing the tip of your cock slightly protruding from between her thighs.
Without taking too much time you began to rock your hips back and forth, letting your cock slide completely in and out of her between her pretty, perfect thighs. You left your left hand clinging to her small waist, and the other went straight for her boob, which was starting to jiggle as your thrusts got faster and faster.
Her thighs definitely made your cock absolutely nothing to miss from her pussy, it was just as tight and soft but in a different way that was also driving you fucking crazy. Your hand squeezed her breast firmly, while your thrusts began to shake her from front to back thanks to the impact of your pelvis against her thighs.
With each of your pumps your cock also rubbed her wet pussy with the left side of it, which added an extra bit of utter and pure pleasure to your senses. You let go of her breast and her waist, only to grab her ass cheek and give it a hard squeeze, followed by a spicy spank that made her squeal. You kept your hand on her ass as you continued to use Yuna's legs for your own pleasure, and it felt so good that you closed your eyes and moaned.
"Use my feet oppa… use my feet and cum on them," she pleaded between gasps.
You did not answer anything and you limited yourself to comply with her wishes (which were also yours). You stopped the thrust of your hips and pulled your cock out from between her thighs, grabbed her around her waist and made her lie on her stomach. Yuna propped herself up on her elbows and looked over her shoulder at you, lifting her feet to place them both around your throbbing cock. Once again you spit on your hand, but this time to bring it to her feet and make them as slippery as possible.
You grabbed both of her feet and held them together, pressed against your cock to resume your frantic hip swings. Your cock slid in a very fucking hot way between her sexy feet, and both you and she thoroughly enjoyed it. Your hands couldn't go anywhere else but her feet, but you didn't care, having that perfect view of her wide ass, her hot back and her lust-filled face was more than enough to complement your ecstasy.
Her pretty feet served as your cock sleeve for the next two minutes, and between strong and intense thrusts, you began to feel blood rushing against your cock. You pumped a few more between the soles of her until you quickly stopped and pulled your shaft out of there, keeping a grip on her ankles with one hand while with the other you quickly jerked your cock off.
"That's right, oppa… give my little princess feet all your cum, please!" she moaned, watching as your hand quickly rubbed your cock.
As soon as she finished that sentence you exploded, releasing thick, hot streams of white liquid directly onto her now slightly red feet. You moaned out loud and closed your eyes for just a second as you emptied your balls between her toes and her sole. You opened your eyes again when the last jets came out of your tip, seeing Yuna's feet painted white everywhere. Your breathing was agitated. You released her ankles, and let your cock rest throbbing against her toes.
You two were silent for a few long seconds, where only both heavy breaths could be heard, when suddenly the bedroom door opened. Yuna was startled, but you were so exhausted that you didn't even flinch.
"Oops, sorry guys," Yeji apologized, walking between the beds to open a drawer in the nightstand and take out a charger, "Uh, you want toilet paper, a wet wipe, anything?"
"You could clean my cock with your mouth, right?" you asked rather boldly, raising your head to look at her sideways.
"I would, but it would lead to other things, and I don't have time for that right now darling," she wailed, then turned to Yuna, "Did you enjoy your feet being used, you little slut?"
"Shut up and give me the wet wipes, please," Yuna whined, her face flushed red between pleasure and embarrassment.
"Yeah yeah, I'm coming, don't be a crybaby," she went to a hairdresser they had in the bedroom and took the packet of wet wipes to toss it to one side of you, "Oh, by the way," she saw you, hand on the doorknob, "you can stay the night if you want, our manager won't come tomorrow and we'll watch a movie."
"But I didn't bring any more clothes..."
"So what? You can walk around naked if you want, none of us will care."
"Well, if you say so," you sighed, taking a wet washcloth and beginning to clean Yuna's feet as Yeji left the room.
"I really thought she wasn't going to come in here, what a bitch..."
"Are you satisfied now, ma'am?" you asked, now using another wet wipe for the same job.
"Quite a lot, oppa," she nodded with a wide grin, "but... can you come kiss me?"
"As you wish," you put the wet wipes aside, and went to lie down next to her body. You wrapped your arms around her body, brushed a few strands of hair from her face, and pressed your lips against hers, beginning with a kiss that would last for at least twenty more minutes.
———————————————————————
Spren Notes:
Here's a treat for the little jerk who insulted and annoyed me by asking me for a "part two" for Post Stress Therapy. Oh right, I blocked him lmao.
I have nothing to add here, but this is a special gift for the most die-hard lovers of Yuna's legs and feet ;).
If you, dear reader, are interested in buying me a commission, do not hesitate to go through my inbox, I’ll be delighted!
1K notes · View notes
ohdeerfully · 2 months
Note
Hii! I really like your work :3
Can you do demon alastor and his goth human girlfriend comfort scenarios? :D
hii! i hope i did some justice, i dont know much about alternative subcultures (,: i tried something new, with some bulleted headcanons and a oneshot afterwards! thank you so much for the request! <3
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How to Summon an Overlord
Alastor x Goth!Reader (fluff) TW: mentions of animal death/taxidermy
join my discord!
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Alastor definitely appreciated the goth aesthetic
He lived in Hell, yeah, but a lot of the style there was more punk or grunge. Not that he even knew what these words meant but he could visually tell the difference
Similarly, you adored his red color scheme. You thought it complimented your black extremely well
He wasn’t particular about the music, it wasn’t quite his taste, but he didn’t mind listening as long as it was with you. He could manage to enjoy what you enjoyed
You typically conjured him into your world two or three times a week. You weren’t a busy person, but he was a busy demon
You typically spent a while before seeing him getting into a full goth getup, perfecting your white foundation and sharp eyeliner for what felt like hours 
He would assure you that it wasn’t necessary, but wasn’t overbearing about it. He knew some people just liked to get dressy
He did kind of like knowing that you were so excited to see him and show yourself off to him though
The dates you shared with him were… untraditional, to say the least
He enjoyed taking you out deep into the forest to explore and find bones and such to add to your collection at home. You were brave alone, but before meeting him never dared going as far in as you two did. There was so much you had been missing out on
He would never tell you, but when you weren’t looking he would use some of his powers–which were much weaker in the human realm than in Hell–to quickly catch and kill a small rodent if you were having no luck. He knew you’d probably get upset with him about the morality of it
Even though you’re literally dating a demon
So like. What morality
“I was a hunter in my life,” He had said when you caught him standing over the corpse of a deer. “I know how to… track them. When they’re dying.”
You loved that sinister grin of his. You never knew what was really going on behind it, but you found that and his glowing red eyes so… attractive. Oddly enough
At-home concerts were a must. As stated earlier, he wasn’t a huge fan of your taste in music, but he would never admit it. He did his best to follow in your steps and you swung your arms and sang out to your song of choice
He forced you to dance along with him to some jazz, too, of course. He left you no option for that
Baking was probably the most normal thing you two did together
He didn’t like sweets at all, but he liked shaping the dough into little themed cookies
He also loved helping you dye your hair; so much so that the second your roots started showing signs of your natural hair color he was the first to point it out
He loved being able to sit behind you and run his fingers and work the dye into every strand of hair. He didn’t care if it stained his fingers
Gifts weren’t very common from him, but you could tell that when he did get you something, a lot of thought went into it
Recently he had given you a dainty black chain with the most beautiful, glimmering blood-red ruby dangling off of it
You always asked him about what Hell was like. You asked and asked and asked, so many questions. And he was happy to talk your ear off in return
Part of him wanted to convince you to choose a sinner’s path, to join in him Hell. Honestly, he had a feeling you would if he simply asked. You seemed genuinely devoted to him
But, at the same time, the other part of him did care about you in a way that didn’t want to see you stuck in that place. Even with him
That was something he’d think about later
You were always so upset when it was time to exorcise him back to Hell. Harsh words, but it was just technicality
You clung onto his fingers for longer than you needed to. You knew he’d be back in a few days, but you had begun to feel increasingly lonely in the time between his visits
He would give you an affirming squeeze on the shoulder, and rest his chin against the top of your head for a moment before you performed the ritual
He kept in contact with you through the haunted radio you met him through, of course, a daily meeting that had become routine
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You loved antique shopping. 
Especially when you end up with your own little haunted radio.
Especially when that radio had the smoothest voice, with the most peculiar and out of date accent. It was charming. And, it knew your name.
You sighed as you stroked your fingers down your cat’s back, smiling softly as it arched into your touch. Your legs were crossed in front of you, sporting a comfortable and fuzzy skull-patterned pair of pajamas. Your eyes kept flicking expectantly to that old radio, and you were growing impatient. You hadn’t heard from the demon haunting it all day, and you were growing lonely.
It felt incredibly surreal and peculiar, feeling ghosted by a literal ghost. Or demon. Or monster. Or whatever it was.
You weren’t really a lonely person, preferring to stay inside–enjoying the comfort of your cat and a good song or show as you practiced tattoo flashes on the kit you bought yourself as a birthday present. But you had grown fond of that voice, as strange as it may seem. And you believed he had grown fond of you as well, what with the pet names he had begun referring to you as.
A crackle of that radio made you jump to your feet, which startled your cat. You quickly ducked down to apologize and rub behind his ears before scampering over to the coffee table and crossing your legs as you sat in front of it. You couldn’t help the smile that beamed across your face.
“Little bat,” The voice practically sang. You rested your head on your hands, careful to avoid a fresh piercing you had given yourself earlier in the day. “Sorry, I’ve been quite busy with my duties down here.”
You sighed, a childish grin playing across your face. “I was beginning to think you forgot about me. After all that work I did repairing you.”
“Darling, I would sooner redeem myself in heaven than forget about you.” Your brow quirked at his statement.
“Isn’t heaven like… all sun and happiness and grandeur.”
“You’d be surprised.”
You let the conversation end there. You couldn’t get over that voice of his. Maybe it was the combination of the accent and the filter of the radio over it, but you just knew this demon had to be a handsome one. Though, you had considered the idea of him being some sort of terrifying, eldritch horror. You could probably get behind it, honestly.
You purse your lips in thought, fantasizing about seeing the owner of the voice.
“Why haven’t you told me your name yet?” You asked him. A few seconds passed by.
“How incredibly rude of me!” He announced, and he sounded genuinely upset with himself. “I forgot my manners, I truly never expected this radio to be touched again. I’m Alastor, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” You laughed a bit, playing along with the formality. You reached forward and brushed a settlement of dust near the base of the mesh cover. 
“Hey,” You said slowly. You continued after he responded with a hum of curiosity. “I have a bunch’a books on like… summoning demons. And stuff. Do you know if…” You trailed, hoping that he was catching the idea.
He did catch on, and you heard an amused chuckle. 
“I’ve never thought about it,” Alastor admitted. “I’ve been too busy down here to really care about visiting the human world.” Even through the filter of static, you could tell his curiosity was piqued. And you were suddenly very, very excited.
“Stay here,” You jumped up without a second thought and scampered into your room. You had a cabinet full of small antiques and trinkets, from cute bunny figures to reptile skulls. You gingerly opened a lower drawer, careful not to knock anything over, and rummaged through an old storage of books you didn’t often touch.
While you were in your room, you quickly swiped on basic makeup. There was no way you had time to do a full face, you felt that you were risking it already even putting a little bit on. You teased your hair and threw on a simple outfit, layering some jewelry over it. If you were going to summon a whole-ass demon in your house, you wanted to at least look hot. Obviously.
You hurried out back into your living room. You felt a little nervous as you neared the radio, which had gone quiet. Usually, when Alastor was connected, there was a garble of frequency that announced his presence.
You skimmed your fingers across the mesh and, nearly instantly, he was back. You wondered if he felt any physical connection to the thing. You decided to ask him about it later. You gently picked up the radio and traveled into your basement.
It was the perfect ambience for this type of thing. A bit dreary, empty, cold… You really only used the basement for storage, so the air was thick with dust and stagnant oxygen.
“Okay. I got a couple books on different ways I could go about this. I should have all the candles and salt and stuff…” You flipped through the pages, muttering as you set out different books on methods of evocation that seemed interesting around you, your legs crossed comfortably.
He hadn’t said much since you mentioned summoning him to your realm. You began to wonder if this was a good idea. Were you jumping the gun? Was he actually as interested in you as you were in him? Did he want to see you?
You suppose he noticed the long pause in your mumbling, because he finally spoke. 
“Find anything, (Y/N)?” You smiled at his question. You took that as a good enough sign that he was interested.
“I found some… I just hope one of them works.” Alastor simply hummed in response.
You carefully drew a symbol on the concrete floor, hand dripping with white paint. Your arm was pressed against your chest to keep your stack of necklaces from dragging along the ground you kneeled down on. Your eyes flicked back and forth between your work and the book, trying to make it as perfect as possible.
Alastor hummed a little tune as you laid out the necessary candles. A few white ones dotted the formed circle, for “purification and spiritual protection” the book said. You figured it wouldn’t hurt, just in case Alastor did end up being some hideous monster. You crossed your fingers.
“Okay…” You said slowly, standing up to examine your work. You bent over to pick up the book you followed. You also carefully placed Alastor’s radio in the center of the symbol you drew. “Get ready.”
You read over the words a few times before trying out the chant. 
You must’ve done it just right, because as soon as the words began tumbling from your mouth, a wind manifested and twirled around the circle you had created. Amazingly, the candles remained lit.
The lace on your clothes billowed in the wind, and your hair blew into your eyes. You furrowed your brows in an attempt to stay focused and kept your eyes on the paragraph. You could see that radio slightly glowing out of your peripheral.
A flash of light concluded the chant, and your eyes squeezed shut at the unexpected shine. You had thrown your arm over your head, and carefully began to peek under your elbow as the wind settled.
The candles, save for the white ones, had all gone out and the room smelled heavily of the smoke that curled from the extinguished wicks. And, in the center of the circle, the radio was gone.
And a demon sat in its place.
He was sitting, arms catching himself on the ground and a puzzled look on his face. The transition between realms obviously wasn’t the smoothest ride, but he quickly gained composure and stood up, brushing off his clothes.
The first thing you noticed was how tall he was. How he loomed over you, even from a couple feet away. The next was those piercing, dangerous red eyes of his as he made eye contact with you. And then his lips curled up in a wide, yellow grin.
“A pleasure to finally meet you in person, little bat, quite a pleasure,” He said with a dramatic bow. You were too stunned to speak, simply looking up at him with your mouth agape.
You realized that radio filter over his voice wasn’t exclusive to the radio itself, because his voice cracked with it as he spoke to you. You swallowed your intimidation and stepped towards him. He wasn’t a disgusting tentacle monster, which was awesome. He was actually… incredibly handsome. Lucky you.
“It’s… so good to finally meet you, too,” you said. You reached a hand out towards him. His eyes followed your movement carefully, smile twitching and eyebrows narrowing as he considered your hand.
Your hand was stopped at the edge of the circle he had been summoned in. Some invisible barrier prevented you from getting any closer. You both looked down at your hand, and then back up at each other.
You laughed, breathlessly and nervously. After all that work, you couldn’t even get any closer to him.
“Those candles, (Y/N),” Alastor explained with a teasing grin. You looked down at the white candles that still had their flame. You cursed yourself briefly.
“I was, uh, a little nervous. That’d you’d be, like, you know…”
“A hideous, slimy monster?”
“Yeah.”
Alastor laughed down at you. “My dear…” His voice was suddenly incredibly menacing,  the scratching of his radio-like ambience becoming more aggressive. You felt a cold sweat run down your spine. As fast as the tone changed, though, it was normal again. His voice was light with humor once again. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about!”
You stooped down towards a candle to snuff it, but a quick rap from the demon’s cane halted you. You slowly craned your head up to look at him.
“You wouldn’t want to upset the delicate balance of a seance, my bat,” He said smoothly. “You can fix it next time. I should be going, I wasn’t expecting this… I have some things to do back in Hell.”
Next time, you thought, a tight feeling in your chest. You were incredibly excited at that idea, and it helped you not feel so bad about the short visit from Alastor. You nodded at him before turning around and fishing through the book for a banishment spell.
“I’ll… see you later then,” You said after finding the page. You pressed your hand against the invisible barrier again, to which he followed and pressed his own on the opposite side. You examined those long fingers of his. He smiled down at you. His expression was strange and unreadable.
“Until next time.”
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zhongrin · 1 year
Text
gemesin
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◇ characters ◇ zhongli, xiao, childe, al haitham, tighnari, kazuha, cyno, scaramouche, diluc
◇ tags ◇ more teeth-rotting floof what did you expect, slightly suggestive (al haitham)
◇ note ◇ translated to english, means “adorable” or “cute”
𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡
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some (or in some of these cases, most) people wouldn't associate the word “cute” with your boyfriend, but you beg to differ.
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the way he just hovers and lingers over you whenever he wants your company but doesn’t want to disturb you. if you keep ignoring him, he wouldn’t even realize it himself, but he’ll give you a wet puppy (hatchling?) look. at first, you might have thought that your eyes were playing tricks on you, but if you glance through the mirror - yup, there it is. best abandon whatever you’re doing and give him some attention now.
Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 9/10
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once in a while, upon your continuous insistence, xiao will transform into his bird form. a tiny little thing, with magical blue-green feathers and a darker color on his beak, his signature golden eyes no longer catlike but beady-looking. his favorite nest? the top of your head. yes, he will peck anyone who troubles you without hesitation. yes, he will tuck his head under his wings when he sleeps. and yes, he absolutely enjoys the head pats and chin scratches you give him while he's in this form.
Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 10/10
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drunk kazuha and severely sleepy kazuha has one thing in common: they’re utterly, completely, earth-shatteringly endearing. he’s whinier, more giggly than normal, and is very easily entertained by the slightest things. the simplest action like you booping his nose can instantly make a loopy smile spread across his lips and a breathy giggle escape his throat. oh, and did i tell you that he’s more honest and needier than usual in these states, too?
Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 9.9/10
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when he pouts and whines and pouts and whines and burrows his face onto your stomach like a cat. maybe you didn't give him enough cuddles? forgot to give him his morning kiss? you’re not too sure, but you’re very sure that the way he puffs his cheeks as he gives you an expectant look is just plain adorable.
Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 9.5/10
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this big, stoic-looking man has no weakness…. well, two weaknesses. the first one being you, and the second one being tickle fights. yes, he’s ticklish. yes, you probably discovered this because of kaeya’s big mouth. yes, you most definitely should test the theory. and if you have the physical abilities to catch up with the darknight hero, you might even be able to see a breathless, teary-eyed diluc laughing and almost choking on his own spit because he’s struggling to hold back his laughter as your fingers work their magic on that specific spot on his sides.
Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 7/10
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the momentary drop in his expression as you catch him off guard on one of his rare days is truly a sight to remember. his eyes widening a fraction and his lips parting a tad, body flinching and frozen as his brain tries to kickstart and amend his reaction to a more subdued one. how does one achieve this seemingly impossible feat, you ask? well... either you do something entirely stupid (please note that you might be subjected to a two hours lecture after this) or you do something entirely inappropriate (like pulling him into a kiss in broad daylight in public, but then again, you might regret the consequences later)
Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 6.5/10
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his ears, his ears, his ears. they’re sometimes even more expressive than his expressions, it’s worth dedicating an entire journal to observe and document their movements. his fox instincts are also very adorable, especially when he’s unconsciously trying to groom his ears and tails whenever his guard is down and he thinks that no one’s around. not many things can rival that endearingness... except perhaps the sight of the sulky pout on his lips when he presents himself to you after his grooming session and you don’t comment on it.
Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 8/10
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when you reply to his bad joke with another bad joke. he’s so lost. and it shows in the way his eyes widen as he stares at you silently, head tilted a tad to the sides, his lips apart. you can literally hear the neurons in his brain working overtime to try and decipher your words. and the confused-slash-slightly-embarrassed lilt of his voice as he asks you to explain? it’s guaranteed to make you want to pinch his cheeks and kiss his nose.
Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 8.5/10
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yeah no, there’s nothing cute about this prickly man…… unless. unless you manage to be the love of his life and earn his complete trust. it’ll take you years and the stars need to align perfectly and you'll need the blessings of all seven archons, but you might get the chance to see the rarest phenomenon in all of teyvat: a sleepy scaramouche, woken up from his slumber, clinging desperately to you when he senses you moving away from him on the bed. he looks like a cat that fell into the bathtub and is only halfway dried with all his hair sticking all over the place like that, but the cutest thing has to be the sleepy pout and the soft whines of “mm, stay with me please…”
Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 (surprisingly) — 9.5/10 (normally -5/10)
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© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!
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setsugekka · 11 months
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❥8 degrees (m)
↳ hyunjin loves so many things about you, and your willingness to placate his adventurous streak is certainly one of them.
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hwang hyunjin x fem!reader — established relationship, explicit sexual content [2,3k wc] cws: penetrative sex (unprotected), hyunjin has a big dick, exhibitionism, dirty talk/praise, soft & they are in love.
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Hyunjin liked having you in places he had no business taking you.
You always knew it was kind of his thing. It started as a quickie at home knowing the guys were coming home within the hour, and as time went on, Hyunjin kept cutting it closer and closer to their projected arrival time until eventually they did come home during a romp in the sheets together. The two of you weren't walked in on and no one was none the wiser - but you suspect that scenario changed Hyunjin in some way. Sometimes kinks have a funny way of unmasking themselves, even if by accident.
Then it was the dance studio one late Thursday night that he was practicing by himself. You brought take out and some small iced coffees knowing he was intending on making it a long night but you apparently didn't have any concept of exactly how long. The thought comes and goes quickly while he has the front of you pressed against the cabinet; clammy, sweaty fingers digging into the skin of your hips.
And there was also the time in the van - the van you have no business ever being in for any reason at all but a text from Hyunjin asking you to come help him bring some things in turns into legs dangling off of his marginally toned arms, teeth grinning into the skin on your neck.
So now, when you're asked to accompany Hyunjin anywhere, in the back of your mind you know what to expect.
"Oh good, you're right on time," Hyunjin says, darting up from his chair and getting the door from behind you as you carefully set all of the numerous items in your arms onto any available table space. "You should have called me to come down" he adds, watching you struggle with your hands full.
"Nah it's fine, I had it," you answer, shaking blood flow back into your appendages and looking up at him, "so how's it going?"
"Good, fine...I mean, it's going."
"So not particularly good or fine then."
"Yeah, not really."
He'd been working on something of his own for a few months now, and spent many a late night in the studio alone on top of all of the other responsibilities he had. In the beginning, he allowed you to accompany him, but as time went on and his inability to finish his project became stifling, the excuses for why you shouldn't come became more and more common, and less and less truthful. It was shame, and you knew that - you just didn't know how to fix it.
You leapt at the chance, when he finally invited you back.
Hyunjin sits back down in the chair, surprisingly large and spacious for just being a rolling desk chair - but suppose that is the luxury life of a successful entertainment company. You watch the way he stares daggers into the screen in front of him, a display of colorful lines and numbers and gadgets everywhere that you were sure you were never going to understand the intricacies of. Watch the way his eyes dart around as if trying to read actual words on a page but in an entirely differently language he was unfamiliar with. His arms cross. He looks sexy, and you feel a little bad for thinking that because you know he's struggling in the present moment but you can't help it.
"You should eat, babe."
As if your words break him from a trance, he seemingly snaps back to present day - raising an eyebrow toward you and rolling himself over to where you sit on the couch off to the side of him.
"I'm not too hungry, I’ll eat later."
"Hyunjin…" It's more of a disappointed, sort of accusatory tone than you meant, because you know he doesn't need the guilt of upsetting you on top of everything else. "Please, make sure you take time to eat tonight."
"I will, I promise," he responds, slightly pouting towards you and setting his chin down into his palm. "Come here, I missed you."
You set your styrofoam take out box to the side, carefully wiping your mouth with a napkin before making your way over to him. Hyunjin pulls you into his lap - legs to the side and wraps both arms around you and yours, squeezing you tightly before dipping one of his hands down to the hem of your dress. "It's 8 degrees outside tonight," he says questioningly, with lips pressed into your shoulder, and fingers slipping under the aforementioned hem to toy with the smooth skin there under.
You kind of knew that the recording studio was on the proverbial list. You came prepared after too many evenings of fumbling with tight skinny jeans under time constraints. 
"Turn around." 
Hyunjin's voice has already dropped when he whispers the words into you, huskier and more serious than he had been the moments before when he was teasing you about the temperature outside - allowing you to stand for just a moment before seating yourself back onto his lap with a leg dangling on either side of his now and arms circled around his shoulders. He doesn't waste time pulling you into him, pressing plush, pink lips into yours a bit harder than you expected for how early into the evenings activities you thought you were - but it appears that Hyunjin had every intention of hurrying things along - carefully gnawing at your bottom lip as his hands make their way to your behind, pulling the fabric of your dress up and away only to make another discovery that actually takes him so far back he physically pulls himself from you to look at you.
"No panties?"
It's almost a gasp, you like that look on him. You'll have to elicit that again somehow.
But you simply smile and pull him into you again, to which he happily - and much more hungrily this time - obliges. Hyunjin firmly plants his palms onto your ass again, this time digging blunt fingernails in to pull you closer against him and you can feel that his erection is already pressing into the confines of his sweat pants - and now your exposed core. Your lips part from his and exhale a breathy moan into his and he takes a moment to simply watch the way you fall for him all over again - his eyes darting all across your face just as they had been on the screen only minutes prior but this time he's taking you in - all of your best attributes and expressions and sounds.
You know this is his element, and you know he can't hold out too long.
"Stand up," he whispers, lightly nudging you to stand up off his lap but only long enough and with enough space for him to slide his pants down to his thighs and expose himself - pulling you back down quickly by the waist. He watches as you hover over him, the fabric of your dress bunched up in your fists to each side of your hips as if doing the lewdest curtsey before descending down onto his length.
Hyunjin doesn't pull you down into a seated position - he knows better. He's very aware of how big his cock is - length in particular - being an issue on occasion, and the lack of foreplay this evening not helping matters. He simply holds you by the waist, in place, until you take it upon yourself to move. 
Feeling full was an understatement. You enjoyed watching his face as you excruciatingly slowly made your way down his shaft, centimeter by centimeter sinking onto him knowing he desperately wants you to take every inch right then and there but also reveling in knowing that you can't - that most people can't. It turned both of you on knowing how big he was.
"Please move." Is the first thing out of his mouth, and you're not fully in a seated position yet for all of the previously mentioned reasons, but you pull off of him slightly so that you can press back down him - despite the fact that the weight and motion on your thighs burns only a few movements in - it's worth it to watch the way Hyunjin comes undone beneath you, fingers digging into your skin again and now actually trying to pull you further down onto his cock - because he feels like he's going crazy. Because he feels an inhuman desire to be bottomed out in you in that moment. "Can you take it?" he whispers into your mouth, wrapping lithe arms around your body to slowly pull you the rest of the way onto his length, and you brace yourself for what might be evening-ending pain if you're not ready for it yet. He watches every movement your face makes as he does so - carefully holding you in place and taking you in as he seats you flush onto his lap - finally able to bottom out inside of you - and it's a sigh of relief for both of you instead of a disastrous yelp and end to the fun of the night (which isn't foreign to either of you, either.)
"See baby? You can take me," Hyunjin groans into your collarbone, ever so slightly angling his hips up and pressing even further into you than what flush on his lap grants. It hurts - slightly. It hurts in the same way that feels intriguingly good - teetering on the edge of excruciating. He pulls out only a few centimeters before pushing back up and into you - a slow and hard grind again - using the strength and leverage he has on your body to pull you onto him as much as he can. He whispers into your skin again, "you take me so well, you're taking it all," and it's the way that his voice sounds when he's so desperate for your body and the release you'll grant him that causes your walls to clench around him. And he notices. Taking the opportunity to pull you down with more of his strength again.
At no point is he necessarily fucking you - at least, not in the typical sense that someone would expect when hearing the phrase. Hyunjin is testing you. Hyunjin is seeing how much of him you can take and how far he can go before you have to tap out. It's definitely a power move - an ego thing, but you're happy to oblige because having him inside of you like this is absolutely heavenly. 
It's almost involuntary, the way your hands press down and against his thighs in an attempt to create distance between the head of his cock and your cervix, but the pressure he applies to your insides makes you relentlessly milk his length even with little movement, and he feels every throb of your needy cunt - kissing and smiling into your neck and chest as he continues to ever so carefully pull your tiny body onto all of the inches that under normal circumstances you may never expect to be able to take into your body - but the way your pussy aches for him to move, sopping wet around him despite barely any actual stimulation to you tells the both of you that Hyunjin must be a perfect fit after all.
"Hy-Hyun-" you finally manage to whimper out, trying to get leverage to grind into his lap or against something that will give you actual friction despite the fact that he has you firmly wrapped into his arms, and he realizes immediately. 
"I know baby," he answers, dropping his arms from you and allowing his hands to rest gently onto your hips in the event that he'll need to help. You quickly begin moving - and it's a slow pace at first but not for long at all - the previous stimulation surprisingly doing a number on your desperate need to cum. You grind into his lap hard, quick, pretty fingernails clawing into his shoulders in an attempt to receive the leverage you need to get yourself there and Hyunjin simply watches in awe - bottom lip pulled between his teeth and the occasional moan escaping from him. You moan his name again - sort of - as much of it as you can get out and he snaps to attention, pulling himself forward with chest against your own, hands now pulling your hips harder into his lap than before in an attempt to help get you there.
"H-hand, fuck," is all you can get out before you drop your head back but it's all the direction he needs, bringing his dominant hand around to the front of you and pressing sloppy, aggressive circles into your clit - desperate to watch you cum and much to both of your surprise it doesn't take long - much less time than usual - before he hisses a cuss as he feels your cunt vice grip his cock as you cum into his lap, desperately trying not to cry out but failing in somewhat spectacular fashion. You'd have thought that you would be better at fucking in public spaces by now but turns out you might only be getting worse at it. Hyunjin snaps you back from the noise concern, taking your hips into his hands with a rigid grip of his own and fucking you hard through your orgasm while also chasing his own and it doesn't take him much either - "fuck, fuck, I'm-" but the words are choked back from ever leaving his lips, one of his arms coming up your back and gripping onto your shoulder from behind to give him the leverage he really wants to fuck his cum into you the way he desires to, and you feel every stroke and throb as he releases deep - once again pulling you down to take absolutely every bit of him that you can into yourself. 
It's a few moments of heaving chests and heavy breaths before Hyunjin finally lets go of you and allows you to create any sort of space between the two bodies, half-lidded, completely fucked out eyes eventually finding your own, and he only smiles before leaning forward and resting his head lazily on your chest.
"I'll eat now."
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♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask  (⌒‿⌒)  —this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.   i think this is one of the first things i ever wrote nearly three years ago lol
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finding out it's your birthday
task force 141 x reader
synopsis: It's your birthday, but you don't know how to tell your teammates about it
notes: don't really know how to properly describe this, but it's based on this request and my personal experience of having to spend my birthday at work (no, I did not bring them baked goods, just sweets from the shop). Really short, not proofread, no plot.
comments and reblogs are always appreciated🙈
warnings: none
find it on ao3 masterlist
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"and now I am dreaming and you're singing at my birthday// and I've never seen you smile so big" - moon song
There were a lot of potential ways you could have spent your birthday, but running through the narrow hallways of the base with a heavy backpack slung over a shoulder definitely hadn't been one of them
You almost crashed into other three operators, including König from KorTac who had the common sense to place his heavy hands on your shoulders in an attempt to steady you before you ran him over in your rush to get to the meeting room
Laswell had advanced the hour the post-mission debriefing was supposed to take place and it ended up clashing with your own schedule, the one day you decided to organise your actions into one and now you were late by almost 5 minutes. Which wouldn't seem like much to some, but being a member of Task Force 141 meant you needed to uphold a certain standard.
But it was your birthday and even if you were 99% sure no one was actually aware of it, you'd spent the morning baking oat cookies and muffins, and carefully packing them into casseroles. You also tried to bring them to the destination with minimal damage, but now you could only hope there was something edible left of the baked goods.
"I'm sorry I'm late!", you meekly excused yourself, taking a seat between Ghost and Soap and blushing slightly when feeling Price's judging glare.
"Anyway, as I was saying when you tried to infiltrate through this crack in the perimeter…"
Slightly tapping your left foot against the floor, you couldn't focus on Laswell's words. What if they didn't like the cookies - you were never able to make them both soft and chewy - or what if the muffins stuck to the muffin liners? Did you put too many chocolate chips in them?
"Y/N? What's your take on this?"
You looked at Price with an alarmed expression, panic bubbling up in your chest upon seeing the questioning looks of the others. You didn't catch the last part of the question - were they asking about your birthday? Laswell must have known, she was the one responsible for all the intelligence after all.
So you did what seemed the most logical thing to do. You opened the backpack and placed the plastic casseroles on the table, unaware that everyone else in the room was literally frozen in place.
"So yeah, it's my birthday today and I made some cookies and muffins and thought it would be nice to share them with you and… that's not what you were talking about, is it?"
Your words trailed as you realised that the timing wasn't as ideal as you planned. At least, now you were sure they hadn't known: Price's eyes were widened comically, and Gaz was repeatedly blinking at you in confusion and disbelief. Soap let out a thunderous laugh as he instantly pulled you into a bear hug and Ghost… you couldn't tell his expression under the mask, but the blank look in his eyes meant he was probably still wrapping his head around it
"How about we forget any of this happened and I do it again after the debrief is over?" A blush spread on your cheeks as you tried to put the casseroles back into the backpack, but you were stopped by Gaz's firm grip.
"Are you kidding? It's your birthday, we should celebrate - go out for drinks and do karaoke and-"
Price and Kate shared a knowing look between themselves and shook their heads in defeat. Before being able to ask them what was the matter, Kate closed the laptop and began to stuff the files back into the manilla folders
"Happy birthday, Y/N! We will resume this tomorrow. And now tell me, what kind of oats did you use for the cookies, plain or instant? My wife's been trying to make them this chewy, but she never seems to get the recipe right."
It was your turn to open your mouth in disbelief when you saw Price joining Kate at the table, securing a casserole of oat cookies just for themselves
"Why didn't you tell us sooner?", he asked in a gentle tone, fishing breadcrumbs from his moustache.
"I… It's not that important, I mean…"
You couldn't help but flinch when someone placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it slightly, as if in reassurance. You turned your look to Ghost, who was holding a pink muffin in his gloved hand. His mask was lifted up to his nose, revealing his tight-lipped smile:
"Don't ever say that again, ok? That is all the more reason to celebrate it. You were the one who got us out safe from the bunker after all…"
And you could swear you saw his lips twitching into a smile, a playful glimmer dancing in his eyes as he bit into the cupcake
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