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mockerycrow · 6 months

Note

HELLO the biggest congrats on 4k, you absolutely deserve that and so many more!!!

Could I see a female!reader x Ghost with the prompt:“I had a nightmare . . . can I stay with you tonight?”

TY and yet again, congratulations 🤍🤍🤍

REASSURANCE (Ghost x Fem!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

authors note; thank you so much anon <3 i hope you enjoy!

[WARNINGS; not proofread (like most of my fics), silent panic attack + light dissociation, implied you’ve never seen his face, hurt/comfort.]

You know Ghost has nightmares—everyone knows Ghost has nightmares. No one really wants to talk about it because he doesn’t, but everyone has seen the man up at ungodly hours of the night, or perhaps beating the absolute shit out of a punching bag at the on-base gym.

No one except for Price knows what Ghost’s been through, but no one really questions him. It’s unrealistic to think Ghost is the only one waking up due to their dreams—even Price does on the occasion. What Ghost doesn’t do is ask for help.

You had a weird gut feeling about tonight; you weren’t really restless, but you weren’t tired. Every time you laid down to try to get some sleep, your eyelids would slowly open back up. You tried multiple methods; white noise, thinking about nothing, thinking about a story, taking a sleep remedy—nothing.

You had a weird tightness in your stomach that you couldn’t shake. It’s no big deal, you’ve had several nights like this. Nights where you stay up, half expecting something to happen. You aren’t sure if its the military-esque anxiety flaring up, expecting an attack of some sort or if it’s just one of those nights.

You’re laying in bed, trying to think of what you have to do tomorrow. Might as well try to think of something useful, right? Let’s see, you have to do morning training and then you have to eat, brief with price, it’s your turn to help the armourer—the weapons master, you like to say to piss them off—and you also have to do paperwork.

A very tame evening, you think, avoiding the Q word everyone oh so desperately hates; including yourself. Because the second you say it, you’re going to be called by Laswell, or General Shepherd, or some other CIA federal agent bureaucrat about some fucking thing that’s happening in the god forsaken world that only, and only task force 141 can handle—

—Someone knocks on your door, breaking your disorganized thoughts. Your eyebrows furrow; no one should be up, maybe Price is, or Ghost. Did you forget some paperwork? You sit up, slip your slides on your feet, and you walk to the door. You unlock the door and open it, wincing from the bright light of the hallway pouring in, and you’re met with the large figure of Ghost.

You blink, unsurprised. “Hey.” You utter. “Did I wake you?” God, Ghost sounds rough. It sounds like he garbled glass—er, maybe that isn’t the nicest way to describe one of your superiors voices right now. It’s clear he just woke up. You shake your head in response, stepping aside. “Here, come in. It’s bright.”

Ghost silently obeys, stepping inside of your room. You close the door and head over to your desk. You feel around in the darkness until you feel your lamp and you click a button, turning it on, illuminating the room just enough for you to see Ghost. He’s wearing a pair of dark grey sweatpants with one of his black, long-sleeve compression tops to go with it.

He’s wearing a basic black balaclava without the iconic skull, but.. His eyes are different. Distant and weary, cautious—panicked almost. Your eyebrows furrow together as his broad shoulders are tense, fists clenched.

“Ghost..” You call softly. He seems far away—he needs your help. “Ghost.” You say more insistently and louder, noticing the way his chest is barely moving. “Ghost, hey, can y’hear me? You need to take a breath..” You murmur, slowly approaching him.

He’s frozen but you see how his eyes flicker towards you, taking a moment realize where he is. You offer a soft smile you always show him and you nod. “There you are, big guy. Can I touch you?” You make sure to ask because you never know; a soldier during a flashback, touching them? That can be fatal—you trust Ghost as you don’t think he would ever hurt you, but you never know a person.

It takes him a moment to nod, which makes you promptly and gently grab his wrists. You gently guide him to your bed, and you sit him down. You’re nervous—you’re about to calm him down in one of the only ways you know how to, but you’re worried about the consequences you’ll receive afterwards. Oh well, you don’t care, not when Ghost’s eyes are as unfocused as they are.

The bed dips under his weight and you gently spread his legs, standing between them. You grab his arms; they’re deadweight, but his eyes flicker some recognition, allowing you to guide his arms around your waist. You guide his head to lay against your stomach, your hands cradling his masked jaw and the back of his neck.

Ghost takes in a harsh, shuddery breath which makes you hum in approval. “There you go, Ghost. Breathe, you’re alright.” You say in a mellow manner, your thumb brushing over his masked cheek. Ghost takes in another harsh breath as his arms tighten around you. You continue to try to ground him, talking and praising him for his efforts to stay calm. You know he isn’t in the right mind, but you’re still shocked he’s allowed you to touch him for as long as you have.

Something in your gut unravels as Ghost pulls his head away ever so slightly, ripping his mask off and throws it away like it was constricting his breathing. He buries the side of his face back into your stomach, taking you by surprise. Your met with his blonde hair in the low light, your heart stuttering.

You hesitate only for a moment before you bury a hand in his hair on the back of his head, your other hand returning to his jaw, your heart hammering as you note he has stubble as well as something on his skin, like deep scar tissue.

Ghost lets out a noise which you quickly hum in response. “It’s okay, let it out.. Won’t tell anyone about this, okay?” You assure him, causing another noise to escape him, almost like a laugh. “Kinda hard t’do that when a pretty girl is comfortin’ you.” He croaks, his voice broken—both his voice and sentence making your brain short circuit. You laugh in return, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Shush,” You murmur. “Just relax.”

Ghost nods against your stomach, shakily exhaling. You stay like that for a while; neither of you are sure for how long, and neither of you care. You’re enjoying the rare vulnerability Ghost is displaying, and he’s enjoying the grounding touch you’re currently providing him. The silence is comforting as you comb your fingers through his hair, and you enjoy the weight of his head and his arms.

“I had a nightmare…” Ghost utters. You hold your breath as he looks up at you, and oh god, he’s hot. “..Can I stay with you tonight?” You’re mesmerized by the way his nose is curved—clearly has been broken a couple of times and wasn’t reset right—by the way his eyebrows are furrowed, his big, beautiful brown eyes.. You nearly forget to respond. “Yes,” You push out, resisting the urge to reach up and rub the tension between his brows. “Always.”

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edenesth · 11 days

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[2:36 PM]

"Holy crap, I'm stuffed! I feel like I've eaten enough to last a week," you exclaimed, embracing your bloated belly in amazement as you glanced at Seonghwa, who was still happily devouring his meal. You'd been indulging at the all-you-can-eat buffet for hours, yet he showed no signs of slowing down. "Thank god one of us has a black hole for a stomach; I swear, Hwa, you make every buffet meal so worth it."

Your boyfriend chuckled, "You say that now, but I bet you'll be craving convenience store snacks by tonight like always," he teased, feeling a rush of affection for you as you stuck your tongue out playfully.

It was your fourth anniversary together, and he had let you choose the venue for your date. You opted for the Japanese buffet near your shared apartment, knowing it would make him happy. And it did; he was over the moon, utterly in love with you for your thoughtfulness. So much so that he could propose to you on the spot. In fact, he had a ring ready and was eagerly planning to seize this perfect moment to pop the question.

As he finished his bowl of ramen, his heart warmed at your immediate response—reaching over to delicately wipe the corner of his lips with your napkin. You smiled, asking, "Was it good?"

He nodded, holding your hand and planting a kiss on your wrist after you finished cleaning his mouth. "Everything tastes better with you around, my love. Now, be a good girl and wait here while I go get us some desserts."

You giggled before exclaiming, "Ooh yes, I want to come with you!" as you began to rise from your seat. But he panicked and stopped you, "N-no, please, let me take care of you today. I'll be back real quick, I promise," he said before darting out of the private room you had reserved. He had plans to hide the ring in one of the cakes for you to discover later, and if you were to go with him now, he wouldn't be able to execute his plan.

With a satisfied hum, he admired how perfectly he had hidden the ring in one of your favourite cakes. Oh, he couldn't wait to see the look on your face when you realised what was inside. Walking back to the room, his heart raced and his mind swirled with all the possible romantic outcomes of this surprise. If all went well, you'd be his fiancée by the end of this meal.

It's going to be perfect.

"Yay, you got all my favourites! Thank you, Hwa, you're the best," you cooed, pulling him down by the collar to give him a chaste kiss on the lips before allowing him to return to his seat across from you.

He grinned, biting his lip excitedly as he watched you begin to eat, "Anything for you," he murmured. His attention was momentarily diverted when his phone chimed with a few texts from his friends in their group chat. He clicked open to find a couple of silly memes, offering a quick 'Haha' reaction before returning his focus to you.

"Hwa, say ahhh," you said, holding out some cake to feed him. Absentmindedly, he looked up from his phone and accepted the bite. "Thanks, babe. You enjoy it, I'll get more later," he said, his words slightly muffled as he spoke with cake in his mouth.

Wait a minute, I—

His eyes widened in horror as he realised the ring was in his mouth. He was dangerously close to swallowing it when he attempted to push it back out, causing him to choke violently and startling you in the process.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" you rushed over to his side immediately, lightly slapping him on the back. Your concern intensified as his body shook. "Cough it out, Hwa!"

And he did, eventually spitting out remnants of the cake onto his trembling hand. In the midst of the mess lay a shiny object. You didn't know what it was, but one thing was certain: it clearly was not meant to be in a cake. "Wh-what's that? Why would they put something like that inside a cake? Are they trying to harm someone? This is unacceptable; I'm going to file a complaint."

"N-no, babe!" he called out, gently grasping your wrist and pulling you close before you could scold anyone for his own mistake.

"But Hwa, you could have died—"

He sighed, "It was me, I put it in there." He grabbed a few new napkins and cleaned up the mess in his hands, and your eyes rounded, your breath catching when you recognised what was in his hand. It was a ring you had once jokingly shown him, telling him how pretty it was and that you would love it if he could propose to you with it. You didn't think he would actually do it.

"God, this went way differently in my mind. You were supposed to discover it on your own; it was supposed to be so romantic, and I ruined it all because I'm an idiot—"

You silenced him with a kiss, pressing your lips to his and cradling his face while you caressed his cheeks, tears tracing down your own. Pulling back slowly, you rested your forehead against his with a soft chuckle.

"Well, I think it's rather romantic."

"I swear, I'll redo it properly—wait, really?"

"Mhm. Oh and, yes, I do."

ATEEZ Masterlist

Look what you made me do, @itstheghostofmypast😭 this was a little something my pookie and I came up with while we were talking hehe ilysm istg pls never stop feeding me these ideas.

Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed this random little timestamp and as always, let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 |

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho |

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline |

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1 |

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #ateez timestamps #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez drabbles #seonghwa drabble #seonghwa fluff #ateez fic #ateez imagines

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loveforneteyam · 1 year

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Hello! I would like to request for Neteyam x reader angst-to-fluff headcanons for how he would react if his s/o flinched during an argument, please and thank you!

❝flinch❞ ( neteyam suli )

summary: even in the heat of an argument, neteyam wouldn't dare to hurt you, so it breaks his heart when you think otherwise. pairing: neteyam x omaticaya!reader wordcount: 782 contains: some angst! fighting/arguments, neteyam's kinda mean note: my first request and first fic! this idea is so good!this is so perfect for our favorite boy. i'm not the best at headcanons, i hope this is good...thank you for your request!

ma syulang : my flower ma txe'lan : my heart

masterlist

You and Neteyam don't easily argue. Every relationship has a few up's and down's, but you have always been able to calmly work through it. You know just how to calm him down if he's ever stressed or flustered with his duties as the future olo'eyktan, and he knows just how to soothe your nerves.

So when you have your first real, emotional argument, it's completely unexpected.

Neteyam had an exhausting day that consisted of keeping Lo'ak in check, making sure that Tuk wasn't running off into the forest again, and following any other orders that his father gave. Most of the time, Neteyam could compose himself until he'd join you in bed at night and you would hold him through whatever was bothering him.

However, this particular night, Neteyam returned to your shared tent in silence. You could see the frustration in his eyes, so you immediately ran to console him. "What is wrong, ma 'Teyam?"

"Nothing, ma syulang." He was lying and you could tell. He practically threw his bow onto its stand. You rested your hands on his shoulders. "Please, it has been a long day."

"Let me help you," you cooed, pulling him to a seat. He sat down and you began to pluck the colorful feathers from his braids. You'd collected newer, cleaner ones earlier that day. "Is it your father?"

"It is not just him, (y/n)," he sounded annoyed with you and you couldn't tell why. What had you done to bother him in the few minutes he'd been home? "I just want to go to sleep."

You pressed a kiss to his temple. "I found new feathers today, ma txe'lan. Let me remove these and then we may rest."

He huffed out a harsh sigh that felt like a cut in your heart. Your hands stopped their movements; your eyes softened. "Neteyam...have I done something wrong?"

The only thing that was wrong was that Neteyam felt like all of his responsibilities during the day were piling up on top of him. Although he loved to spend time with you more than anything else, it felt suffocating to be insistently questioned when all he wanted was to fall asleep with you in his arms.

Unfortunately, he didn't communicate it that way. "Ma (y/n)," his voice was unusually deep and agitated. "I want to be left alone."

Alone? This was completely foreign to you. Neteyam had never wanted to be alone before. "What did I do?" Your voice almost cracked as tears collected in your eyes.

"You have been irritating me this whole time!" He shot up from his seat, causing you to stumble onto your bottom, knocking over the small bowl of feathers that you collected. "When I come home, I just want to spend time with you...I do not want to be bothered!"

Neteyam had never raised his voice at you like this. When he turned towards you, you closed your eyes and flinched your head to the side. His heart broke.

It was silent for a few moments. Your eyes remained shut until you noticed that Neteyam could barely breathe. When you looked to him, his lips parted with small, panicked breaths. "Ma syulang..." he began, falling to his knees and moving closer to you.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, trying to ignore the tears that were now evidently running down your cheeks.

He shook his head while you tried to hurriedly collect the feathers in the bowl again. "Oh, (y/n)," his hand gently grabbed yours. You would not meet his eyes. "I would never hurt you. I am sorry."

"'S alright, Neteyam."

Neteyam pulled you to him and cupped your face with his hand, gently rubbing the tears away. "You've done nothing wrong. I should never raise my voice like that with you, I'm so sorry, ma (y/n)." You leaned into his hand and wrapped your arms around him to pull him closer to your frame. He embraced you, holding your head to his chest. "Please, don't cry, I would never hurt you. I'm so sorry, can you ever forgive me?"

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lethalchiralium · 9 months

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Glass Houses | Miguel O’Hara x Wife!Reader

a/n: look, i’m not ignoring anything (i am) i just couldn’t get this out of my head haha

warnings: fluff and angst 🫶

summary: It’s finally time for Gabi’s quinceañera, something Miguel had finally allowed her to have.

MASTERLIST

Pastel pink dress with flowers in her hair, Gabi was having the best night of her young life.

Picture after picture, her pearly white smile was as bright as daylight. Her friends surrounded her, her uncles and aunts from both parents celebrated her quinceañera. It was the night she had been looking forward to, the night she had been begging you and her father for.

“Gabi,” He shook his head, his grip on the steering wheel was tight. “I told you we’ll think about it.”

“Papa, every girl I know gets a quince-“

“Gabi, lo digo en serio-“ Your hand settled on Miguel’s thigh gently, he took in a breath, growing frustrated with traffic and with himself. He spared a glance to you, your eyes on the road, but that still didn’t stop you from looking to him. “Mi vida, help me here.”

Your fingertips tapped his thigh, you turned to look over your shoulder at your darling daughter, still wiping off mud from that day’s practice. You glanced to Miguel as his hand slid down to settle on top of yours, fingers curled around your palm. Your husband has always trusted your judgement.

You squeezed his thigh before you responded, “Baby, Papa’s already doing so much for us. You need to give him time to get it worked out, it’s not a yes or no until he says so.”

The fourteen year old’s expression dropped, her body slumped into her seat. You frowned. “Why does he get to pick all of the sudden? You always set the rules, Mama-“

“Cuida tu tono con tu madre, Gabi.” His tone was calm, you could feel the bite of his words and watch how Gabi looked out the window in response. You deflated a little, you didn’t want to tell your perfect daughter that what little money you and Miguel had was running out. “Siempre escuchamos a mamá.” You squeezed Miguel’s thigh again, your eyes moved to gaze at the side profile you had memorized years ago.

“Mama, por favor,” You looked back to Gabi, your heart strings were tugged hard when you looked at her saddened expression.

A sigh escaped you before you turned forwards, the traffic now flowing much better. “Papa and I will talk about it.”

You watched your baby and her friends, all of them chatting away and laughing like hyenas. She was gorgeous, she looked truly happy; she spared a glance towards you, her smile so contagious that it made yours even wider. She was the spitting image of her father, just without the fangs. She waved a little, you waved back.

“We don’t have the money for it.” You whispered, arms tucked in between you and Miguel’s chest, fingertips gently tapping on his warm skin just below his collarbone. Your eyes could only watch your red fingernails as they drummed an unfamiliar melody into your husband’s skin.

He was watching you, it wasn’t hard for you to tell. His hand settled on your hip, the arm around your back gently stroked your shoulder blades with light fingertips.

“I’ll pick up more hours at Alchemax.”

“The mortgage is too much, Mig. I can get my job back-“

“No. Your back is still injured from the accident.” The car accident you had three months ago, where you were slammed into and your car thrown off the bridge by the momentum, only to be saved by Spider-Man. It was terrifying, he took you right down to the hospital without a word before he left you on a gurney; your husband appeared only moments later as the medical team took you inside, his breathing panicked as he took your hand, he was terrified. That look was one you could never get out of your head, even as you stared at his rising chest. “It will only be for a couple of months. It’s important for Gabi.”

“It’s important for Gabi.” You echoed, your nail caught on the small silver chain around his neck, the small locket glimmered in the low light.

Miguel is a generous man, and a man who truly adored his daughter.

Your daughter pranced over to your table, her smile much larger than you had even seen her make. You held out your hands, she instantly took them. “Mi niña, is it okay? Are you having fun?”

“It’s perfect, Mama.” Her arms were around your neck in an instant, a kiss from her on your head made your smile rival hers. She moved away, her pretty curls bouncing as her friends welcomed her back with huge smiles and infectious laughter.

You looked over to Miguel’s empty seat, heart sinking into your stomach. Being Spider-Man has made him lose so much important time with his family, but you understood why he put on the suit. You understood why when he told you that rainy night, you finally understood that you weren’t just a lucky survivor of small villain incident, he was always watching over you - even when he couldn’t be here for Gabi’s quinceañera.

You took a drink of your wine, hoping to put a damper on your growing sadness. You watched her Uncle Gabriel help take the beautiful white chair out to the middle of the dance floor, soft rose colored balloons tied to it and beautiful pink flowers wrapped around the back. Gabi was so excited, her gaze went back to you as she mouthed, “Love you.”

You blew her a kiss as the dance floor cleared, allowing her to sit down in the chair with her beautiful dress - her beautiful face bright with a smile. Your grip on your wine glass loosened as her Uncle Gabriel started the Changing of the Shoes ceremony - your own eyes felt pricks of pain as you fought back tears. You were only twenty feet away, your phone now in your hand was you took the video of the ceremony. She was laughing, happy - her flats being removed and replaced with the rose gold heels she had begged Miguel to buy months prior, but he had refused. And here they were, now placed on your daughter’s feet as her transition into becoming a young woman.

Tears of joy feel from your eyes as she stood, her smile still so large and the chair taken away. The song changed, your smile faltered.

“Gabi,” Miguel called. Your hand held his, his thumb gently raked over your index finger. He had spent many long nights, saving what money he could and taking odd jobs, all in between his duty as Spider-Man. His heart was warm, he had asked many favors with promises of repayment to set up his wonderful daughter’s quinceañera - more money than he wanted to pay, if at all, but he loved his child eternally. This was her one big wish for years, he had always said no since money was an issue. Even as a highly paid geneticist, his money was being drained by hospital bills, his mortgage, and his ailment of constantly needing venom to stay alive. But, giving her this meant she was growing up, and he was finally ready to help her out of her flats and into those high heels he knew were her favorite, then waltz around a big dance floor with his little girl who would be happier than ever.

She bounded down the staircase, hair a mess from practice as she tore off her headband, she smiled, “¿Qué pasa?” She was quick to sit on the floor in front of the couch, where you and Miguel were comfortably sitting. Your smile has always been gorgeous to Miguel, but in that moment, your smile infected him like a virus. You were so excited to see Gabi grow up, so excited to give her what she wanted.

Gabi was sobbing by the time Miguel had told her about the party, she hugged him so tight before kissing his cheek, then diving into you. You wrapped your arms around her with that beautiful smile on your face, moving your daughter back and forth with excitement.

That moment was a direct contrast to what he had confessed to you in private later that night, after he had finally found the courage to tell you his deepest secret. The look of horror on your face made Miguel’s stomach drop, the tears made him nauseous.

“You’re Spider-Man?”

He nodded for the second time, hand still holding yours. You didn’t remove it, your free hand came to cover your mouth.

“I wanted you to know. The ‘odd jobs’ I’ve been doing have been me being Spider-Man, people give me money to keep it up.” He whispered, terror in his heart as you just… stared.

“What will happen if I lose you?”

Miguel could only smile, his free hand came up to your cheek, resting upon it as he whispered, “Nunca me perderás, querida.”

Pastel pink dress with flowers in her hair, Gabi stood in the middle of the dance floor, ready for her last dance of the night before her 15 Candle Ceremony. It was her father’s idea to have the dance near the end of the ceremony, he was never one to want too much attention. The girl stood in the middle of the floor, eyes watching her father’s smile come closer and closer to her.

The crystal-like tears hit her beautiful dress, her manicured hands grasped onto the dark mahogany of the frame that displayed the photo of her smiling deceased father, Miguel O’Hara.

#lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #astv miguel #miguel 2099 #spider man 2099 #miguel o’hara x f!reader #miguel o’hara x wife!reader #gabriella o’hara

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lust4liyah · 5 months

Text

*hides behind hands* I KNOW HOW LONG ITS BEEN YALL I AM SOO SORRY :(((( uni has been kicking my ass for a while but im back and still deeply in L word with miguel!!! here's an apology 4 being gone 4 SO LONG, a lot of y'all rlly wanted body worship so here that is!

not proofread! contains; chubby! fem! reader, insecure thoughts, body image, unprotected sex, praise, public sex, body worship, mirror sex, creampie, sir kink if u squint, rlly soft sex, WAY longer than it needed it to be.

it happens during your off day. you're out shopping with miguel at the mall, dragging him here and there to get cute little outfits and other things miguel swears you don't need. you're at the end of your list of stores, and quite frankly the store miguel's been looking forward to the most, the lingerie store.

you're excited to try on all the cute pieces you see! you're grabbing anything that catches your eyes and miguel looks alive for once as he watches you do so, even going so far as to recommend a few sets.

you take all the sets you're interested in, thank the pretty lady lazily watching over the dressing rooms, and head inside. you were excited at first, you really were. who doesn't love to try on new clothes? but once you get in one of the farther dressing rooms to try on the cute lace sets miguel had suggested, your confidence is shot.

you turn in the mirror, uncomfortable with what you see in the reflection. you're chubby, that was a fact that you wore proudly. you've always loved your body, never thought it was something you needed to change or be ashamed of, until now. you feel gross in this set, the lace not fitting right and not flattering your curves the way you hoped. you try on the next few sets, feeling worse and worse each time.

you're on the verge of tears when you try on the last set, a pretty red mesh one with a bow right between your breasts. you look at yourself and feel nothing but disgust, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as you frustratedly tug at the material around your body. you hated feeling like this, like your body was less than it was, but gosh, you couldn't help it.

maybe it was the way your flesh peeked from the fabric, maybe it was the way your rolls showed themselves on the sides of the set, but either way, you hated what you were looking at. you hated it.

a knock on the dressing room door has you jolting in surprise, whipping your head around to stare wide-eyed at the closed door. "honey?" miguel's deep voice calls from the other side. you don't respond, and miguel, concerned by your lack of response, knocks once again.

"you in there, cariño? it's been a while, is everything alright?" miguel asks. when he doesn't receive an answer again, he starts to push the door open. "is it okay if i step in? i wanted to see how you looked". you can hear the smile in his voice and you panicked. god, you hated the mall sometimes. the doors don't close properly ever.

"wait!" you say, voice shaky. you clear your throat and try again, "don't come in." you're a mess right now and the last thing you want is for miguel to see you like this. "why not?" miguel says, clearly confused. his hand rests against the door as he respects your wishes and waits for your reply,

"is everything okay, honey? did you rip that one with the strings?" he lets out a deep chuckle. "that one looked like it would be difficult to put on anyway, mama. let's just leave it there and run out, yeah?" he attempts to joke and it pull a quiet giggle out of your mouth.

"no— it's not that. i'm okay, baby, really. i just…" you trail off and glance at the mirror again, the insecurities you're feeling rushing back at full force, "i don't like it". you're not lying, you don't like any of the sets. they made you feel like shit.

"the strings?" miguel asks dorkily and you smile sadly at the mirror. even when you felt horrible, he knew how to make you feel better. "no, baby, not the strings." you take a deep breath. "i just don't like the way i look in these sets, that's all." you finally conceded, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

you knew miguel was persistent, though, and you wouldn't be surprised if he tried to get you to tell him exactly why you didn't like how you looked.

you didn't hear anything for a few moments and you started to hope that miguel had given up and left, but then, you hear the door handle shake and watched it twisting open in a panic. "no, wait! miguel—"

the door swings open, miguel's big body blocking the entrance. your hand falters at the failed attempt to keep the door closed and you shamefully take a step back, turning your body away from him and crossing your arms over your chest.

"cariño", miguel steps in and closes the door behind him. he walks closer and gently grasps your hips, moving you so that your back is facing the mirror and your front is pressed up against his body. "tell me what's wrong, why are those beautiful eyes of yours crying, hm?" his large hands move up your back, resting at the base of your neck and stroking the nape.

"do you not like the color? the patterns?" his eyes rake over your body. "because i think they're all very pretty".

you bite the inside of your cheek and avert your gaze, not wanting to face him. "nothing at all like that, they're all beautiful". you admit. you can feel his eyes boring into the top of your head, waiting patiently for a real answer, but you stay quiet.

"then, enlighten me for a moment", miguel starts, taking one of his hands from the back of your neck and using it to tilt your chin up. "what is it about these outfits that you don't like?"

"because, miguel," you huff out and push at his chest lightly. "they don't look good on me, okay? they just make me feel… not good. like i'm— ugh, like they just don't look good on my body." you admit, a tear falling down your face.

the sight of it breaks miguel's heart and he wipes it away with his thumb. "oh, my love," he says. he kisses your cheek. "what makes you think they don't look good on you, mama?"

"they just… don't. i'm not saying they aren't cute, they're just not for my body, i guess". you shrug and try to turn away from him again, but miguel doesn't let you.

"how could you say that about such a gorgeous body, hm?" he says, hands slowly making their way down your body. "you look stunning, cariño. borderline irresistible, and you don't like them?" miguel clicks his tongue and shakes his head in disbelief. "you have to be crazy".

you scoff, rolling your eyes. "yeah, right." you make eye contact with him and miguel's heart breaks with how broken you look. "how could you love a body like mine? it's just so— i don't know, not sexy".

you move to turn around and slip the lingerie off your body, but miguel grips your hips again, holding you in place. "look at me", he says. his voice is hard and demanding and you shiver under his grasp. "i want you to see what i see, honey girl, don't push me away." he murmurs and slowly guides your body to turn around.

"keep your eyes on the mirror, understand?" miguel says softly. you nod and keep your eyes trained on the reflection, watching him slowly caress your sides. "good girl." miguel compliments. you can't help the shiver that runs through your body at his words and his smirk widens. he loves having this effect on you.

he slowly moves his hands up and down your sides, taking his time in tracing your curves. "see that, baby?" he says and cups your breasts. "this beautiful, soft body of yours. it's fucking perfect." he squeezes them and leans down to suck a kiss into your neck. "it's made just for me." he murmurs against the skin.

you squirm in his grasp but don't take your eyes off the mirror. miguel pulls away and gives you a stern look, "are you gonna watch or do i have to make you?" he asks. he raises an eyebrow when you don't reply, and you whimper.

"n—no, sir." you stutter out. you're turned on, the feeling of his hands all over you and his dirty words not helping the growing arousal between your legs. miguel nods and returns to touching your body. he slips his hands around your waist, squeezing your love handles before bringing his hands down to cup the bottom of your tummy. he massages the flesh and sucks another hickey onto your neck.

"all of you is breathtaking, my love". he says and moves one of his hands back to the front of your body. "this tummy", he groans, one of his hands moving to squeeze the flesh of your sides. "these curves", his hand moves again, gripping the meaty flesh of your thighs and lifting the leg that isn't on the floor. "these gorgeous fucking thighs." he sighs, shuddering in pleasure as he practically gropes you.

"all of it is gorgeous, 'n' all of it is mine. can't have you talking down on what's mine, can i?" he smirks at you through the mirror. "it's just not right, honey girl."

"no, sir, i'm sorry." you whisper out. miguel smiles sweetly at you through the mirror, leaning down and pressing chaste kisses against your neck. "my sweet girl, there's nothing to apologize for. i know you get lost in that little head of yours". he says, his hands moving back up to squeeze at your breasts. "how can you not think of the way i feel about you, though? i love this body. i'm obsessed with it. would stay home 'n' play with all day if you'd let me, you know i could do it".

you did know. miguel didn't have any problems spending the whole day worshipping your body, playing with it until you were a mess, begging for him to fuck you. his favorite pastime, if he had one, would be spending the whole day in bed, making you cum on his fingers and his tongue. he's done it before, and he'd do it again if you asked.

"m'sorry, miguel." you whimper, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. you didn't know what else to say, all the praises and kind words were getting to you. you can't remember the last time someone made you feel as good as he does.

"don't apologize, baby." miguel murmurs and kisses the side of your head. "you don't have to apologize, jus' let me make you feel better, hm?" he squeezes your breast again, tweaking a nipple and grinning at the small moan that falls from your lips.

"i'll make sure all the nasty things in that head of yours go away, yeah?"

and that's how you ended up being pressed against the wall of the dressing room, miguel's hand over your mouth and his free hand groping every area of your body he can. tears of pleasure prick so prettily at your eyes and miguel revels in the fact that he's the one who caused it.

"this is what you should be crying about." miguel whispers, his lips right by your ear as he presses his hips further into you. he's relentless, his thick cock stretching you out so deliciously while he plays with your body. "should be cryin' about being fucked open on my cock, should be sobbing over how good you feel." he emphasizes his point with a hard thrust and his hands squeeze the flesh of your breasts.

"god, look at you, mi amor." miguel murmurs against your lips. "you look so fucking perfect like this, all fucked out on my cock. 'm so lucky." he presses a quick kiss to your lips and leans back up, a hand gripping your neck and his thumb stroking the underside of your jaw. he turns your face carefully to the mirror, holding you in place.

"watch me", he commands, his freehand moving down to rub tight circles around your clit. "watch me worship this perfect body. watch yourself get fucked open on my cock, and don't take your eyes off of us." his eyes are trained on the mirror, too, a dark lust swirling in them.

you nod, small whimpers and pants escaping your mouth as miguel takes his hand off your mouth. "m—miguel, baby." you whimper and throw your head back. "'m close, please, let me cum." miguel shakes his head and leans down to press a sweet kiss to your shoulder. "not yet, baby," he whispers and bites the soft flesh.

"gotta see what i see, 'n' then, i'll let you cum. sound good, honey girl?" he smirks. you whine and shake your head, but you can't help but follow his command.

he's making it hard for you to keep your eyes on the mirror, the way his cock is thrusting into you and the way his thick fingers are playing with your clit have your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

"look, baby, watch how well you're taking my cock. so perfect, 'n' all mine. look at that beautiful body of yours, taking me so well." miguel groans and kisses along the back of your neck, his lips brushing against your skin.

"that's it, baby. 's what i see when i look at you." he says. he brings his free hand up to rest against your cheek, forcing you to keep eye contact with him. "see how beautiful you look? see how sexy you are? fuck, i can't even put it into words, honey. you're perfect. every single thing about you."

your eyes start to roll into the back of your head again and miguel's hand moves back down to your pussy. "keep your eyes on me, understand? 'm not letting you cum 'till you do." he grunts and slows his thrusts, not wanting this to end just yet.

"please, miguel, i need—"

"i know what you need, baby. i know this body." he whispers and strokes his thumb across your cheek. "just a little longer, honey. you're doing so good." he praises. you do as he says, keeping your eyes on the both of you in the mirror.

you feel yourself starting to cry, and the tears are falling faster now. "that's it, baby." miguel encourages, his fingers starting to work faster against your clit. "there's that beautiful girl. see how stunning you look when you're taking my cock like the good girl you are?" he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips, and the tenderness of the action has you breaking out into hushed sobs.

"fuck, miguel." you whine, his lips and his words and his hands making you feel like you're on cloud nine. "thank you, thank you s'much, love you— fuck! love you, love you, love you!" you cry, the feeling of his fingers and his cock driving you insane. you're so close, just one more push and you'd be gone.

"i know, honey. 'm right here. i love you too, you and this body. love every single part of it." he murmurs. his thrusts get harder and his fingers press impossibly deeper, the feeling pushing you over the edge.

"you can cum, honey girl, 'm right here." he says, his eyes fluttering closed as he feels you tighten around him.

you let yourself go, and the feeling of miguel's body surrounding yours and his words have you spiraling into a blissful orgasm. you cry out, slapping your hand over your mouth as your body twitches, and miguel moans lowly in your ear. "there you go, that's it, cariño." he coos. he pulls his hands away from your body and pulls your hips towards his, gripping the plush skin tightly.

he thrusts his hips harder into yours, chasing his own high. "so fucking good, honey, such a perfect body." he praises. he bites your neck and comes inside you, his cum filling your cunt as his hips still against yours. "perfect," he groans out. "all of it, perfect."

the two of you are breathing hard, the air around you feeling hot and humid. miguel's sweaty body is pressed against yours, his softening cock still inside you.

and when he kisses you again, helping you settle on the bench of the dressing room while he assures the worried employee outside that everything's fine, you're left with a new mindset.

you don't mind the lingerie sets that much, they're really pretty and yeah! they do look good on you, real good.

when miguel makes a move to slip the underwear off your body and press his tongue inside you, whispering praises and warnings of silence into your body, you don't have a problem with them anymore.

not at all.

okay wow yeah this one was crazy, i rlly rlly hope u all enjoyed this one bcus i tried my very VERY hardest to do the body worship requests justice! im so sorry 4 leaving yall for practically months on end w RADIO SILENCE but i hope u all can forgive me w this teehee

#✧ ― liyah's loves #chubby reader #atsv smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader smut #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x chubby! reader #miguel smut #fem! reader #miguel x reader #miguel x reader smut #spiderverse #LONG ASS DRABBLE MY GOD #gave up on italics 4 the dialogue if u could nawt tell #im so lazy yall IM SORRY

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saintsenara · 11 days

Note

Riddle’s extremely fearful and aggressive reaction to Dumbledore when he thinks he’s a doctor (and the fact that he assumes this at all and believes he is being lied to) has some pretty dark implications (which of course no one follows up on). Do you have thoughts?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

and yes - this has occurred to me too... which means that my thoughts come with a trigger warning for the sexual abuse of a child, and are under the cut.

the relevant scene in canon is, of course, this:

“I am Professor Dumbledore.” “Professor?” repeated Riddle. He looked wary. “Is that like doctor? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?” He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left. “No, no,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “I don’t believe you,” said Riddle. “She wants me looked at, doesn’t she? Tell the truth!” He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still. “Who are you?” “I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school - your new school, if you would like to come.” Riddle’s reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious. “You can’t kid me! The asylum, that’s where you’re from, isn’t it? ‘Professor,’ yes, of course - well, I’m not going, see? That old cat’s the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they’ll tell you!”

the surface-level reading of this scene - which is clearly what the text wants us to go for - is that riddle thinks he's about to be institutionalised for being "mad" - and, specifically, that he thinks that what dumbledore has been told is his "madness" is actually his magic.

[he is also clearly meant to be read as panicking a little bit that he's fucked around torturing his fellow children and is now about to find out...]

that riddle accepts he's a wizard so easily - and that he is so reassured by dumbledore agreeing that he's not mad - is something the text wants us to read as sinister. him immediately describing himself as "special" is set up as a precursor to the adult voldemort's delusions of grandeur - which the entire arc of the series, ending in his death as an ordinary man, is designed to undermine.

but i've always disliked this reading. the eleven-year-old riddle - a magical child raised around non-magical people - is objectively correct to describe his powers as "special" [in that they make him identifiably different from the crowd] within the context in which he lives. the word choice is nowhere near as deep as dumbledore decides - he's clearly known since he was very young that he's a wizard, but he didn't have the precise language to describe this fundamental part of himself until dumbledore offered it; prior to that, "special" is a perfectly reasonable alternative term.

and, in always knowing that he's a wizard, he also knows that he doesn't have a mental illness - but he must also know that this is something it's near impossible for him to prove.

in the real world, if i spoke to a patient who told me:

“I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.”

then i would be correct to describe them as experiencing psychosis. and i might - depending on their other symptoms - have reasonable cause to admit them [voluntarily or not] for psychiatric treatment.

riddle is - of course - demonstrably not psychotic. but it's not unreasonable that mrs cole would assume he is - the world she lives in, as a muggle [even if she's a religious one], is one in which people do not possess the ability to move objects or control animals with their minds, and if one of her charges is convinced that he can, then she's justified in seeking medical intervention.

[that psychiatric treatment in the 1930s can be described without exaggeration as inhumane is another matter...]

which is to say, i think we can easily suppose that mrs cole has - prior to dumbledore's arrival - succeeded in having riddle "looked at", and that the idea that he's mentally ill and should be committed to an asylum has been mentioned before. i think most of us would be instinctively [and angrily] wary of doctors if this happened to us, regardless of how nice the doctors in question were.

and maybe that's all there is to it.

and maybe it isn't...

in the doylist text, the eleven-year-old riddle's personality is the way it is because he's the villain of the series. where harry is preternaturally capable, even as a child, of all the things the series defines as admirable - above all, enduring difficulty without complaint - riddle is preternaturally incapable of them. he's meant to come across as unambiguously sinister - and the fact that the text repeatedly emphasises that he has control over his unpleasant traits invites us to view him as someone who is acting with full agency. that he lives in an orphanage is a trope which the text uses, like a campy horror film might, predominately to underscore how creepy he is - and the text, in keeping with its general lack of interest in states and their institutions, never really prompts us to interrogate the impact of his childhood upon the course his life takes.

[this is despite the fact that voldemort's reliving of the night he killed the potters in deathly hallows is an incredibly accurate depiction of ptsd...]

but it's also the case that the eleven-year-old riddle's behaviour and personality fits a pattern we might expect to see in a child who is being abused, sexually or otherwise:

he's aggressive, he has a hair-trigger temper, and he becomes distressed even by behaviour - such as dumbledore speaking mildly and calmly - which would not ordinarily be expected to provoke such a reaction.

his broader emotional state is fractious. his mood changes sharply, he seems to feel emotions very profoundly, he struggles to control his emotional response to things, he's extremely easily irritated, he's attention-seeking - and he particularly seeks negative attention, and he's very highly-strung. his admission in deathly hallows that he feels calm before he kills - or before he otherwise eradicates a threat or a problem - comes with the flip-side that he's someone who appears, when things aren't going well or he finds himself in a situation which he can't control, to become quite anxious. which is a trauma response.

he's extremely isolated. the text presents the fact that he has no friends as a deliberate choice - "lord voldemort has never had a friend, nor do i believe that he has ever wanted one" - and his relationship with everyone else he ever meets, including his fellow orphans, is defined by the text as exclusively involving him controlling, manipulating, and punishing them. or: he is always the more powerful person in the pairing. but this need for control can be read as self-protective just as easily as it can be read as sinister. there are hints in canon that riddle is not just some malevolent force in the orphanage preying on mild-mannered innocents. for example, billy stubbs, the owner of the rabbit he kills, is targeted by riddle as revenge: “Billy Stubbs’s rabbit... well, Tom said he didn’t do it and I don’t see how he could have done, but even so, it didn’t hang itself from the rafters, did it? [...] But I’m jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before." on the rare occasions billy turns up in fics, he's usually - i find - written very like neville - sweet and guileless and a bit pathetic. but the alternative reading - especially when we take into account that riddle attacks the rabbit rather than billy himself - is that billy is someone he would be afraid to physically confront. indeed, it's striking that voldemort - at all stages of his life - is described as being quite physically fragile. not only is he very thin, but he's always cold and his heartbeat is described several times in canon as irregular. i think this is supposed to be a comment on the physical changes he undergoes the more horcruxes he makes - although the idea that the soul would affect the heart doesn't actually align with how the series understands the soul to relate to the body - but it can also be interpreted perfectly legitimately as something he was experiencing prior to splitting his soul. i am committed to the headcanon that riddle was quite a sickly child - and that this is one of the things which drives his fear of death - and i'm also committed to the idea that his obsession with magic is because the enormity of his magical power makes up for his physical lack. he can defeat - and humiliate and frighten and remove the threat of - billy or dennis [or even an adult man?] with magic. without it, if they were to physically overpower him, then he wouldn't be able to throw them off.

he is extremely nervous about being alone in a room with dumbledore - someone he doesn't know, and who he assumes is connected to a profession [and, maybe, who knows any other doctors he's been previously made to see...] of which he is frightened.

he doesn't trust or confide in anyone - which, as a child, means particularly that he doesn't trust or confide in adults in positions of responsibility. he's clearly uneasy with the idea of finding himself in the subordinate position in an adult-child relationship when dumbledore offers to take him shopping for school supplies - potentially because he's worried that dumbledore will try and dictate or restrict what he's allowed to buy unless he behaves in a certain way... and i am always very struck that dumbledore says in half-blood prince: "He was very guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering his true identity he had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much again." this is presented in the text as evidence that dumbledore is the only person of whom voldemort is afraid - by which the text means that voldemort acknowledges that dumbledore knows that an ordinary man, mortal and unimpressive, lurks behind the mask of unassailable power he has created for himself; and which the text thinks is a good thing. but we can also read it as a self-protective act on riddle's part. in his excitement, he offers dumbledore information [that he is known to be a liar, that he is in trouble a lot, that mrs cole dislikes him and is disinclined to believe anything he says] which would give dumbledore - or anyone in a similar position of power and presumed respectability - cover to abuse him, safe in the knowledge that he would be unlikely to be believed if he reported it.

he doesn't appear to feel safe in the orphanage and he's frequently absent from it - by his own admission, he spends a huge amount of time wandering around london on his own, which may even involve him staying away for several days at a time. nobody appears to notice or care about this.

he's very independent - which the text again presents as evidence of his deliberate self-isolation and rejection of the bonds of love and friendship - and his independence is unusual for a child his age [i.e. that he is capable of doing all his own shopping for school].

his knowledge of violence - i.e. how he designs the trip to the cave to be maximally psychologically devastating for dennis and amy and devoid of repercussions for himself - is also more advanced and methodical than would be expected in a child of his age. again, the text uses this to emphasise how inextricable the child-voldemort is from his adult self - and also, to some extent, to underscore the intellectual brilliance [his magic is also more advanced than is normal for a child] which his narrative archetype [the exceptional villain who is defeated by the everyman hero] requires. but we can also read it as evidence of his own victimisation. a common sign that a child is being sexually abused is that they display a knowledge of sexual behaviour which is more advanced than is reasonable for a child of their age - for example, knowing in detail how a sex act is performed, or fluently using sexual slang which they have no chance of knowing either from age-appropriate settings like school-based sex education or conversations with a parent or trusted adult, or from the sort of enthusiastic hoarding of rude words and phrases all children enjoy as they grow up. riddle's precise, clinical knowledge of how to manipulate, frighten, torture, and control can be seen as something similar. if he can - at eleven or younger - methodically break down another child until they're "never quite right" again, then this is because he's learned how to from someone.

he keeps secrets. and he also goes out of his way to extract them. his grooming of ginny in chamber of secrets - he manipulates her into confiding things she wants to keep to herself, promises he won't tell anyone, and then uses the threat that he will to get her to do his bidding - is an absolutely textbook example of how abusers use the idea of secrecy to control their victims. it doesn't make his abuse of ginny any less inexcusable if we assume he learns this from being on the other side of things.

dumbledore understands his little cache of objects as trophies he's taken from victims - and the text takes the view that dumbledore is correct in this assessment. that hoarding trophies is something widely associated with serial killers means that this is yet another thing which underlines how creepy - and how like his adult self - the child-voldemort is. but it's also the case that the adult - and teenage - voldemort places a lot of emphasis on gift-giving as part of his control over other people. the two most obvious examples in canon are wormtail being given his shiny hand as a reward for helping voldemort get his body back, and slughorn being buttered up with crystallised pineapple before voldemort asks him about horcruxes. the text thinks this is sinister - and one of the reasons it does this is because gift-giving is a grooming tactic. the text also clearly thinks this isn't behaviour voldemort has learned from the other side. and yet a common sign that a child is being abused is if they have possessions it doesn't make sense for them to own [i.e. a child from a low-income background who is suddenly decked in designer clothes] and which they can't or won't explain how they came by. riddle's cache isn't luxurious - although he's so poor that a yoyo or a mouth organ probably is a luxury to him - but there's also nothing in canon which precludes the objects being presents, rather than stolen goods. if the spell dumbledore uses to make the box rattle is caused by a statement which is both relatively ambiguous and dependent on dumbledore's subjective personal morality - is there anything in this room he's acquired through nefarious means? - then the spell would still work as it does in canon if riddle was an abuse victim given the objects as "rewards". dumbledore's tendency to locate right and wrong in the individual and dumbledore's belief that good people should steadfastly endure misery means he can be written entirely canon-coherently as someone who would think a victim who appeared to collude in their own abuse - such as a victim who "offered" a sexual act because their abuser promised them something if they did - was behaving consensually, manipulatively, and nefariously. and it's worth noting that when riddle doesn't know what dumbledore has done to make the box rattle, he is "unnerved". when he realises dumbledore thinks he's stolen the objects - and that he has no interest in forcing him to admit this aloud - he is "unabashed". perhaps because he's just received proof that an experience he doesn't want to talk about is still secret...

on the other hand, the objects could indeed be stolen - because petty criminality and anti-social behaviour, especially in pre-teen children, is also a sign of abuse.

he can be extremely obsequious - when dumbledore tells him to watch how he speaks he becomes "unrecognisably polite", he ruthlessly flatters slughorn, and he is cringingly deferential to hepzibah smith. the text understands this as evidence that his apparent charm is only superficial - another trait associated in the popular imagination with serial killers [and it's striking that so much about the young voldemort - handsome, charming, seemingly quiet and polite, true evil lurking underneath the mask - is exactly like the pop-culture persona which has been created for ted bundy...]. voldemort himself agrees that his charm is performative in chamber of secrets: “If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted." but his obsequiousness is also a fawn response - a way of minimising a threat by attempting to please the person issuing it. he becomes "unrecognisably polite" - after all - in response to this: Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts - ” “Of course I am!” “Then you will address me as ‘Professor’ or ‘sir.’ ” Riddle’s expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognisably polite voice, “I’m sorry, sir. I meant - please, Professor, could you show me - ?” riddle could reasonably interpret what dumbledore says here as a threat to prevent him attending hogwarts - even though dumbledore evidently doesn't mean it in this way - and he switches to being fawning because this is something he really doesn't want to happen...

do i think that any of this is what the text was actually going for? no. and nor do i think that reading riddle as a victim of abuse excuses the violence which the adult voldemort goes on to perpetuate.

but i think it is a reading of his characterisation which is both canon-plausible and interesting - a strange, sickly child with a reputation for cruelty and dishonesty being abused by the respectable doctor who is constantly called in to treat his coughs and wheezes, who buys him little presents and charms him into telling him secrets, who then [to paraphrase the teenage voldemort] feeds him a few secrets of his own, safe in the knowledge that nobody will ever believe him if he tries to get help.

and i also think this a reading which is sincerely important.

a significant contributor to the prevalence of child abuse - no matter what exact form this abuse takes - is that we are culturally conditioned to imagine that both the abuser and the victim will look and behave in a certain way if the abuse is "real".

and this means, all too often, that we take child abuse more seriously when the victim is "sympathetic" - when they're from a stable home, and their family are respectable, and they do well in school, and they're polite and sweet, and they look innocent, and they behave perfectly appropriately for their age, and nobody would ever dare to say that they come across as older than they are, and they're white, and they don't have a history of lying, and they don't have a history of attention-seeking, and they don't have a criminal record, and they're not abusive themselves, and there's absolutely no way of suggesting that they colluded in their abuse, and the perpetrator was someone who looks like a child abuser.

someone who is creepy, low-status, ugly, unpopular. someone who everyone can tell is socially abnormal, someone who nobody would ever intentionally permit to be around their children. not someone who is charming, well-respected, attractive, rich, popular, trustworthy. not someone who has a loving family and a happy home. not someone we might be friends with.

but many perpetrators of child abuse are these second group of people. and many victims of child abuse are "unsympathetic", when their social positions and reputations are compared to their abusers' own.

they lie. they steal. they're attention-seeking. they're vindictive. they have trouble distinguishing between imagination and reality. they're violent. they're bullies. they hurt animals. they abuse other children. they take drugs. they're mentally-ill. they come from broken homes. they're in the care of the state. they're dirty. they're poor. they're odd. they're behind at school and badly-behaved in the classroom. they do things which allow their abuse to be dismissed as something they brought upon themselves - they speak or dress in certain ways, they pose provocatively in pictures and post them on the internet, they are known to be sexually active outside of the context of their abuse, they lie about being over the age of consent, they engage in sexual behaviour with an adult abuser in a way which appears [even though it isn't, and there's never a circumstance in which it will be] to be consensual or for their own personal gain, they are flattered by the attention they receive from someone who is important or attractive grooming them, they have complicated - and not always wholly negative - feelings towards their abusers.

and they are still - unequivocally - victims, and what happens to them is still - unequivocally - abuse.

tom riddle is an unsympathetic victim - not only of any potential abuse, but also of the horrors of his life which are explicit on the canon page: that he is raised in an orphanage; that he is grieving; that he knows nothing about his family; that he is thought to be mad.

the absence of any institutional response to his childhood experiences - dumbledore, by his own admission, discloses nothing about riddle to his fellow teachers - is a flaw repeated again and again in the worldbuilding of the harry potter series.

hogwarts - and the wizarding [and muggle] state more broadly - doesn't intervene in any case of neglect or abuse, from harry to snape to voldemort's own parents. the series' individualistic morality means that we aren't supposed to interrogate these collective failings. and the series' black-and-white view of good and evil - and its general belief that violence is fine if the person it happens to "deserves" it - means that it has no interest in examining the ways that poverty, isolation, and neglect are risk factors; that straightforwardly unpleasant people can still be victims; that victims can go on to become perpetrators without their victimhood ceasing to matter; and that the abuse of children usually takes place not in silence and secrecy, concealed in ways which make it fine for adults not to notice it and not to intervene, but in plain sight.

this is knowledge it never hurts to refresh. thinking about lord voldemort's childhood might be an usual way of doing so... but it is an effective one nonetheless...

#asks answered #asenora meta #tom riddle #lord voldemort #if wizards had the concept of safeguarding it would be a game changer...

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onlyjaeyun · 5 months

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𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 – 𝟑𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍: 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

↬ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

↬ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬!𝐀𝐔, 𝐂𝐄𝐎!𝐉𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

↬ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟔.𝟏𝐤

↬ 𝐜𝐰: 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐛𝐯𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐜/𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐃𝐃/𝐋𝐆 (𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝟎𝐦/𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐬), 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐦.𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 (𝟏) 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤, 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞

Ever since the day Jongseong had decided to add your number to his list of exceptions from his "do not disturb" mode, there's been this certain type of calmness in his chest, knowing he's always available for you.

And despite the fact the two of you had only talked to each other a few hours ago, he couldn't help but be surprised about seeing your name on the display of his phone; especially considering the fact it's way past midnight and you've never been one to stay up this late.

All of a sudden, a jolt of worry rushes through his veins and without missing another beat, he picks up the call.

"Yes, Ba–", and as your soft little cries interrupt him, said worry turns out to be justified.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

From the way none of your responses seem to make sense or are even coherent for the most part, Jay's whole body freezes from the panic of listening to you. Before he can even overthink his actions, he finds himself reaching for his sweater, pulling it over his head and reaching for his car keys in the same moment.

"Stay with me, Baby", he says as calmly as possible, knowing you need the best version of him right now, no matter how much he's internally losing his mind, "I'm on my way."

The young businessman doesn't say another word until he's firmly seated in the driver's seat of his car all while trying his best to calm you down.

But by the time he's on the highway, Jongseong knows he's lost you to a panic attack. Your sobs and breathing heavy to the point where the worry of your lungs actually hyperventilating overwhelms him. His words don't reach you, no matter what and how he says it.

Thousands of possible reasons start rushing around in his head and as he comes to stop at yet another red light, Jay subconsciously makes the decision to have you either move in with him or in one of the apartments in his own complex because there's absolutely no way he's going to let something like this happen ever again.

Knowing you're on the other side of the city, scared, overwhelmed and panicked, unable to handle it all by yourself is breaking his heart in the most painful way possible and the urge to break every single traffic rule suddenly becomes overwhelming.

Jongseong's very much aware that this probably isn't your first panic attack and at the end of the day you somehow would have dealt with it on your own, but you decided to call him because you need him and that's the only thing he cares about.

In all those months of knowing you, the way from his own to your apartment has never, ever felt this long; as if the whole world had collectively decided to test his patience and self control.

By the time he finally parks his car across from your apartment building, a whole eternity has already passed by and the only thing he can focus on is the sound of your little cries and sobs on the other side of the phone.

The boys from your block seem confused and a little surprised to see the young man at such time of the day but upon meeting his worried gaze, none of them dare to say a single word but rather do whatever it takes to get him to you even faster. Seyeon is quick to read Jay as he reaches for his keys and immediately unlocks the front door, nothing but a nod of gratitude being exchanged once he walks into the hallways.

Jongseong never once pulls his phone away from his ear as he basically runs up the stairs ro your apartment, not ready to waste any more time by waiting for the elevator.

His thoughts are racing at such high speed, it feels like their about to shoot out of his ears. Jay has never been this worried or stressed before; the lack of knowledge of the reason behind your panick attack pushing every single one of his buttons, even the ones he didn't even know existed.

"I'm here, Baby, open the door", Jongseong breathes heavily, his voice a little louder and stricter than usual as he hopes for his words to reach you through the sound of your own sobs.

And up until the moment you finally swing open the door, his heart is brutally crashing against his rib cage, just to skip a few beats when the sight of your tear stained face and shaking body hits him like a fist.

"Oh, Baby", is the first thing to leave his lips as he reaches for your body and before he can even pull you closer to his body, you bury your face into his chest and start crying even harder.

Jay wraps his arms around your fragile body without an ounce of hesitation, pulling you even closer against his own as he closes the door behind him and tries his best to calm you down with his words.

"It's okay, pretty girl. I'm here. You're safe", he whispers softly, his heart still hanmering against his rib cage and every single beat hurting his soul the more his brain processes what's actually happening.

Seeing his usually so happy and smiley girl in such a state of devastation feels surreal and if it wasn't for the pain in your little cries, he would have doubted this moment to be actual reality.

Every now and then, Jay gently pulls your face away from his chest to look at you, worried and concerned about your physical health and feeling the need to check if everything is intact.

He has absolutely no idea why you're crying as much as you are. He basically just dropped you off at home again about two hours ago where everything was perfectly fine.

By the time you slowly start calming down in his arms, Jongseong has already painted several thousand possible scenarios in his head and the more time passes without a word from you, the heavier his heart becomes.

And as he gently caresses your back, subconsciously regulating his breathing to give you something to follow, you can physically feel your body coming back to reality.

The blood stops rushing in your ear, your cries slowly dying as your heartbeat finally reaches its regular pace again. All of a sudden the world stops spinning and the heavy feeling of panic and anxiety on your chest slowly disappears.

With tired eyes you lift your head from the crook of Jay's neck to meet his gentle gaze and before you can even react, he takes your face into his big hands and starts nodding at you.

"You're doing so good, Baby", he whispers and pushes the hair out of your face, "breathe with me, yeah? Slowly, you've got this."

Without giving it much thought, mostly because you're way too mentally exhausted to overthink anything, you start imitating his breathing pattern. Inhaling deeply, followed by a short hold of breath and then a long exhale.

It doesn't take you longer than five minutes calm down completely, yet to Jongseong it feels like an eternity.

You let out a soft yet shaky sigh and press your cheek against his strong chest again, your whole body freezing from the cold air in your hallway.

"Let's go to my bedroom", you say, your voice hoarse and raspy from all the sobbing and as soon as those words leave your mouth, Jay finally manages to calm down himself.

He silently follows you through your apartment, a certain type of comfort surrounding him as he holds onto your hand and allows his eyes to graze your place the way he usually does when he comes over.

Jong doesn't know what it is about your home but there's never, ever been a place he's felt as comfortable and safe in as he does in your four walls. He knows you think he's exaggerating because of the size difference in your two apartments, but to him his own is nothing but a place to sleep, whereas yours is an actual home.

He simply can't wait for you to make a home out of his penthouse and finally give him what he's been craving ever since he moved in all those years ago.

With a soft smile of reassurance, you tell Jongseong to get comfortable on your bed as you're getting washed up to be a little more presentable, not even to him but rather to yourself.

Just as usual, he does as he's told and yet can't help but feel tense as you walk into your bathroom, your pretty body covered in nothing but a white little camisole, reminding him why you had asked to come into the warmth of your bedroom in the first place.

Up until the moment you walk through the door again, does he remain as tense and anxious, something so unusual for the young CEO. Growing up the way he did, Jong's simply never had time to lose himself in feelings like this, which is why they now seem so unfamiliar to him.

As you slowly approach him with unsure steps, you can't really tell what's going on in his head and for a moment worry overwhelms you. The first instinct to hit your messy brain after your brother's threatening texts was to call the one man you know would never harm you, yet you never once considered what your current emotional state might do to him.

"I'm sorry, Jongie", you whisper and reach for his face, loving the way he moves further into your touch before placing a row of soft kisses into your palm.

Different than you expect, Jongseong remains quiet. All he does is wrap his fingers around your delicate wrist and pull you closer to his body, silently moving you to straddle his lap before he lets out a soft sigh of relief.

Holding you in his arms like this feels like all the weight has been taken off of his shoulders and for the first time in the past hour, he feels like he can actually breathe.

"Don't be sorry, my pretty girl", he whispers into your ear and gives you a soft kiss on the temple, "I'm just glad you're okay now."

"But I scared you", you reply shyly and pull away from him, nervously playing with the little chain around his neck and intentionally avoiding his gaze, "and I worried you."

"Yes, Baby", Jongseong doesn't hold back with his response, the need to hear your voice too intense, "and yet you made me the proudest man ever. I know calling me wasn't easy. You did so well, pretty girl."

His words surprise you, to say the least. You tend to forget just how soft spoken and gentle Jongseong is compared to all the other men in your life. And as your brain slowly processes his soft words of affirmation and reassurance, you can't help but tear up again.

A very familiar haze starts taking over your brain and for a moment you feel like you're about to fall asleep just from those few words.

"Thank you, Jongie", you whisper and subconsciously bite your tongue to hold yourself back from calling him that tiny little title you've always been oh so hesitant with.

You know how forbidden and scandalous it is, how some people won't ever understand why one would find an inch of pleasure in such a word, yet to you it's always been nothing but comfort.

Yet the fear of scaring him away or even worse, disgust him with your choice of sexual comfort is way too consuming to even consider opening up such a topic any time soon.

Maybe in a few months when the two of you have surpassed a certain point, you'll find the courage to go up and talk to Jongseong about your deep desires. But for now you're more than just content keeping them to yourself if that means to satisfy him.

"Do you wanna tell me what this is about, Baby? Do you feel comfortable enough to do it?"

His voice is calm and soft, his embrace taking over every single one of your senses and as soon as Jongseong takes your face into his big hands, you feel yourself ready to do whatever he asks of you.

"My older b-brother texted me, he somehow got access to my number", you reply and feel the knot in your throat returning in an instant, "he threatened to hurt the men you've hired, as well as you and me and then he–", but your voice betrays you as it breaks at the end of your sentence.

Jongseong gently pulls you into a soft kiss, pressing his lips gently against yours yet not expecting your hungry reciprocation. With a soft sigh he allows you to lead the kiss, swallowing your little whines as he waits for you to calm down.

"Keep going now, Baby", Jongseong whispers against your lips, a sweet blush covering the apples of his cheeks as he looks at you with adoration gleaming in his pretty eyes, "you're almost there. I know you can do it."

You nod softly, pushing your hands into his hair and pressing yourself further against his chest to calm the racing of your heart, all while subconsciously ignoring the growing wet spot in the center of your panties.

It's just another day of your body betraying you by mistaking sexual arousal with genuine comfort and the feeling of security.

"He implied something about finding out where I live and that sent me into a panic attack because I know – I don't – what if he hurts me again, Jongie?"

The tears have yet again blurred your vision as you struggle to breathe and look up at the young business man with a quivering bottom lip.

Jongseong's reaction is quick, his big hand gently holding your face as he starts taking one deep breath after the other until your pattern matches his.

"That's my good girl", he whispers and gives you a soft kiss, "that was great, Baby. I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you, Jay", you sigh and move further into his soft touch, trying to ignore the warmth pooling in your lower stomach from how much his gentleness is affecting you.

"How about you stay with me after the trip to Jeju and then we'll figure everything out once we're back, hm? If you don't want to stay with me for a longer time I'll make sure to hire two bodyguards of mine to watch over you through the day as well as have them stand in front of your door during the night."

His offer is exactly what you needed to hear and you can't believe how it instantly sends jolts of calmness through your body, easily suppressing the anxiety in your veins and with a soft smile you nod.

"Thank you for letting me help you, Baby", Jay sighs and places a soft kiss on your neck, his big hands firmly placed on your waist, "I'd do everything to keep you safe and protected. They won't ever hurt you again, my angel. Not as long as I am around."

Maybe it's the sound of his voice or his choice of words, maybe it's the genuineness nehind it all and maybe, just maybe it's because you've never felt as comfortable and safe with a man as you doneith Park Jongseong, yet regardless of the reason, you find yourself slowly turning off your brain and with a soft sigh, you bury your face in his neck and start squirming in his lap.

The urge to be as physically close to him as possible has already taken over every single one of your senses and at this point you're just tired of fighting against yourself.

"Easy there, angel girl", Jongseong suddenly grunts and digs his fingers deeper into your skin, the soft pain sending yet another jolt of arousal straight into your cunt.

"I don't have much self control when it comes to you, Baby, I don't wanna hurt your heart", he whispers and throws his head back when you suddenly start littering his neck in soft, open mouthed kisses. The feeling of your tongue licking over the little spots on his skin as well as the feeling of your warm, barely clothed cunt against his cock send his brain into overdrive and Jay knows he has to stop this or he'll lose his composure.

"Don't", you reply calmly, looking up at him with big, glassy eyes and your pretty lips pushed into the cutest little pout, "please, Da – Jongie, I want you so bad. Need you to make me forget again."

You're quick to save your little slip up, despite the heavy cloud surrounding your brain and as you allow yourself to roam his handsome face with hungry eyes, you realise he's way too gone to have noticed.

Jongseong on the other hand is convinced his brain is playing games with him. You didn't actually just almost call him by that fucking title he's been daydreaming about ever since the first day he's met you. It's just his stupid head and the pain urging from his now rock hard cock. There's absolutely no way.

"Look at me, Baby", he grunts softly, his big hand wrapping around your throat to make you follow his request, "I need you to tell me exactly what you want, yeah? Can you be a good girl and use your words for me again?"

You don't even think a single thought, just nodding in response to his sweet request.

"I wanna ride you, Jongie", you sigh as your hands find home in his thick hair, pulling on the dark strands gently and slowly grinding your hips against his, "I miss feeling you inside of me."

"F-Fuck", his response is instinctive, more of a reflex than anything else and with a deep grunt, Jongseong throws his head back to enjoy the feeling of pleasure filling his veins.

"That's my good girl", Jay growls deeply, lightheaded and slightly dizzy the more his body loses itself in the sweetness of your touch, "Daddy's perfect little angel."

It takes him a whole second to realise what the fuck had just slipped past his lips and with wide eyes Jay finds himself staring at the ceiling.

All of a sudden his heart starts hammering against his ribcage, anxiety and fear of your possible reaction to the sudden exposure to his most treasured and well hidden kink.

You two have talked about quite a few things but this never felt fitting enough to bring up ag any given point and for some reason, Jay can't help but be genuinely afraid.

His previous partners never enjoyed it the way he wanted them to. They usually only played along in bed because they knew he liked it and the fear of you doing the same has the knot in his throat double in its size.

"I'm so fucking sorry", he whispers and finally gets himself to look at you, yet skillfully avoiding your eyes.

He's not quite ready for a heartbreak of this sort, not when he literally just regained your trust.

"It won't ever happen again, Baby, I promise. Please just forget I said it. I'm so ashamed."

Yet again, a million possible scenarios start flooding his mind and not a single one preparing him for your actual reaction.

As you watch the young CEO obviously struggling internally, you can't help but feel relieved.

You've always hoped that he'd be into this as much as you are, especially after the first time the two of you had gotten intimate but for some reason it's so much better, more fulfilling than you could have ever imagined.

Similar to Jay's experiences, you've rather been hesitant about revealing this particular fantasy to your previous boyfriends, mostly because you know they either disliked it or even thought of it as weird and disgusting.

And the one who didn't really care about it usually never reciprocated your urges and just let you use the title for him, something you quickly pushed yourself to let go of to save your dignity and heart. Ever since that you had promised yourself to never, ever give this to someone unworthy again.

And now here you are.

In the arms of a man who got so lost in his pleasure and want for you, he actually slipped into the designated role without your initiation.

"No, please", you whisper, a thin veil of tears blurring your vision as you take his face into your shaky hands, your body actually overwhelmed by all the emotions, "I've dreamed about this for so long."

"It's okay, Baby, you don't have to play along if you don't like it. There's no need for you to indulge in it, I'll be–", but you don't give him the opportunity to finish his rejection, too consumed by him.

"Please, Daddy", your voice is small as you're too afraid of bursting into tears, "don't take this away from me again. I need it so bad."

"My Baby."

This time, Jongseong's voice is filled with relief, the excitement reaching his pretty eyes as he takes in the sight of his pretty girl on his lap; the sound of you referring to him the way he's been fantasising about for longer than he'd like to admit constantly replaying in his mind.

"Only yours", you say confidently and nudge his nose with yours before the tension finally becomes too much and you needily pull him into a deep kiss.

Despite having done it a fair amount of times, you don't think you'll ever get used to kissing Park Jongseong.

It's rhe way he allows you to lead the kiss all while maintaining the control. Each time your lips meet his, you feel your cunt clenching in despair and the wet spot in your panties doubling in its size with every second passing by.

Just as usual, it starts off slow and gentle, only for the hunger to overwhelm the both of you and before you can even realise it, you find yourself sucking his tongue into your mouth as you shamelessly grind your clothed cunt against the hard bulge in his sweats.

You quickly swallow all of his deep grunts and heavy moans, loving the way his taste consumes your senses and Jay doesn't seem afraid of letting you know just how good you're making him feel.

With a tiny ltitle whine you make your way to his chin all the way down to his neck just to cover his soft skin in open mouthed kisses. You know you can't leave your marks, he's a business man after all, yet you can't take it away from yourself to avoid the pretty little birthmark on the left side of his neck.

"There you go, that's Daddy's good girl", Jay grunts as soon as you suck the skin into your mouth and basically set his whole body on fire.

The hoodie he's wearing has never felt as suffocating as it does in this particular moment, but you're faster than he is.

You're eager and needy, too far gone to even notice the look of pride grazing his features when you reach for the hem of his hoodie and pulling it over his head along with his shirt.

Jongseong's usually not the type to let go of his control so easily but the way you simply take what you want because you know he'd give it to you anyway makes him want to become nothing but the realisations of your deepest fantasies.

With other women he'd feel the need to remain composed and collected but with each one of your needy kisses down his tattoo covered chest, Jay can tell how much you're enjoying his compliance.

The sudden worry about not being what you actually want however, remains in the back of his mind as he watches you climb down his lap and in between his spread legs to litter every ounce of skin in your sweet kisses.

"Baby", he grunts and chokes on his breath at the same time, the unexpected grip on his hard cock leaving him overwhelmed, "let Daddy take care of you, please. Be a good girl for me."

But his words fall on deaf ears. You've been dreaming and fantasising about pleasuring him for the past who knows how long and after allowing him to do as he's just said, you're degermined to finally give him back what he deserves.

"Angel girl, ple–", "Please, Daddy. I wanna make you feel good, too. Want to be what you deserve."

"Oh, Baby. You always make me feel so good. You take such good care of me, I'm so fucking lucky."

Just as usual, Jongseong's words instantly push you into the sweetest headspace you've ever been in and with a little pout, you press your cheek against his clothed thigh too look up at him, not knowing what that particular sight is doing to the young businessman.

"Go ahead, Baby", he sighs and caresses your cheek with his knuckles, "do whatever you want to me. Daddy's all yours. use me, my body, my cock, it all belongs to you. I belong to you, pretty girl."

You feel hypnotised by the way he speaks to you. Every word seems to carry a single emotion, yet all of them ooze nothing but affection and adoration, something you have never experienced in your life before.

Which is probably why you don't even manage to form a simple sentence, just greedily reaching for the babd of his sweats, only for Jay to stop you mid-movement.

"Good girls use their manners, Baby. You always respond to Daddy, okay?"

"Yes, Daddy."

The response easily slides off your tongue and the look of pride in Jongseong's pretty eyes leaves you lightheaded.

And within just a few seconds, you carelessly disregard Jay's sweats along with his boxers on your bedfoom floor, your whole focus remaining on his thick cock in your hands.

Different than he would have expected, you don't hesitate to wrap your pretty lips around his leaking tip, your tongue lapping up every drop of precum before you decided to pull away and lick your way from his shaft all the way up, easily eliciting a row of deep moans from your usually so composed boss.

"That's it, Baby, so f-fucking good." Of course Jay doesn't hold back with his praise as the feeling of your hot mouth around his throbbing cock sends dizzying jolts of pleasure through his whole body.

You're quick to take more than half of his length into your mouth, tryingy our best to get as much as possible, only for your gag reflex to stop you.

"It's okay, pretty girl", Jong reassures you upon noticing the way you've furrowed your brows in frustration, too adamant about taking the entirety of his impressize size down your throat, "we'll work on that some other time, yeah? You're doing ducking amazing for me, making me feel so good."

"Thank you, Daddy", you sigh and rub rhe tip of his cock against your saliva covered lips, spreading his precum all over them as you look up at him with those eyes.

Jay's never seen eyes as pretty as yours and if it wasn't for the way you're bavk to wrapping your lips around his cock, he would have spent another fifteen minutes just admiring how pretty they are.

"F-Fuck, Baby", the feeling of hitting the back of your tight throat has his toes curling in despair, "wanna come and sit on my cock now, hm? Am not gonna last much longer, I've missed you too much and your mouth is t-too good."

To hear a usually so confident and well spoken Park Jongseong stumbling over his words like a child is something you never knew you need up until this particular moment.

For a second, you don't even understand what he's saying, too focuse on the way he seems to feel to even stutter.

"Baby", this time his voice gives off more warning vibes and make you realise that you've been subconsciously sucking on the tip of his to gue while being stuck in awe about his mannerisms.

"Take those pretty panties off, leave the camisole on and sit on Daddy's cock. Wanna cum inside of that pretty little cunt."

"Mhm, yes", you reply hectically, standing on yojr knees in between his legs, only to stop in your tracks and correct yourself with wide eyes, "I mean – yes, Daddy."

"Good girl", Jay leans back with his lips stretching into one of his pretty smirks as he casually watches the way you clumsily pull your drenched panties down your thighs and then your legs.

"Show them to me", he suddenly demands, his big hand firmly placed on your naked thigh, gently groping the soft flesh, "I wanna see what a mess you've made of yourself just from sucking Daddy's cock."

"But – it's embarrassing", you whisper shyly and push his hand higher up your body, knowing he'll understand exactly what you want and as soon as Jay take sone of your sensitive tits into his big palm, you cock your head to the side and pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Come on, Baby, there's no need to be embarrassed. I carry great pride in what only I can do to you and that perfect pussy", he mumbles and yet again easily convinces you to just as you're told, so without missing another beat, you lift your panties up and show him the big, wet spot in the center of the soft fabric.

"Good girl. Now get on my lap, pretty girl and sit on my cock, show me how good you can take me."

And as you've come to realise in the past few weeks, you don't need to be told twice when it comes to Park Jongseong.

With your bottom lip firmly tugged between your teeth, you straddle his thighs and let out a loud whine at the feeling of his bare cock against your wet cunt, the sudden stimulation resulting in you almost instantly burying your face in his neck.

"You're so fucking wet, Baby", Jay geunts and guides your hips to move your oussy against the length of his sensitive cock.

"For you, Daddy", you whimper and suddenly lift your hips up right before pushing your hand in between your bodies to take hold of him, "only for you."

"That's my good girl. My perfect little angel, come on, guide me inside and look at me while you do it. Wanna see how good you look when you're taking my cock."

You're already following his instructions before he can finish speaking, his voice growing more and more hoarse as you rub the tip of his cock against the hot flesh of your wet cunt, only to line it up with your sensitive hole right after.

Not a single word is being exchanged from the moment you slowly start sinking down on his thick cock. The stretch this part comes with usually enough to drown the both of you in the rawest pleasure possible.

Your high pitched moans meet his deep grunts in the thick air of your bedroom and as he finally bottoms out, your reach behind him to hold onto the headboard of your bed, your knuckles turning white from your tight grip but there's no way you can stop yourself from cumming all over him if not for tensing all your muscles.

"Fuck", is the first coherent thing to fall pst Jay's swollen lips, "you're so fucking tight, Baby. It's like I didn't spend hours stretching you out before."

You try to move, yet are quickly humbled when a stingy pain shoots through your body and you know you have to wait another minute to adjust to his impressive size.

"It's because you're so big, Daddy", you whimper and look at him with big, glossy eyes.

"Yeah? Is it big, Baby? Too big for your tiny cunt, hm?", a hint of faux sympathy echoes in his deep voice and you can't help but whine in response to his slightly teasing tone.

You start nodding like you've lost every single word in your vocabulary,

It doesn't take you as long as you initially thought and by the time Jay throws his head back to let out one of the hottest moans you've ever heard, you've already figured out a rhythm which hits each and every single one of your sweet spots.

Of course Jongseong doesn't hold back with his dirty words, continually talks about how good you feel, you tight you are and how he's going to fill you up to the brim with his cum because food girls deserve just that.

You're nothing but a mess, not a single understandable word leaving your lips, just a row of needy whines and high pitched whimpers begging him to just please never stop.

You're so far gone, so lost in the sweet haze of your pleasure, you don't even notice the way Jay sneaks his hand between your bodies and casually starts rubbing firm circles into your hardened clit.

"Oh", you moan and look at him with big eyes when he suddenly meets the movements of your hips with his own thrusts, easily hitting that one particular spot inside of you until you can actually taste the sweetness of your high on the tip of your tongue.

"I can feel it", Jay chuckles and pushes his hand into your hair to geab a fistful of it, pulling your face closer to his, "you're going to cum for me, aren't you, Baby? Gonna make a mess of Daddy's cock like the good girl you are, isn't that right, my sweet angel?"

"Yes, Daddy", you whine and push your forehead against his, heavily breathing against his lips as your moans become louder by the second.

"Look at my pretty little girl, using her Daddy's cock like she owns it." You know he's teasing you, pushing you to the edge and playing with your patience, yet at this point there's no way for you to think the slightest bit rationally.

"Because I do", you say firmly, "it's mine. You belong to me."

"Fuck, yes", Jay lands a harsh spank on your sensitive ass, never once halting his hips from thrusting up into you, "claim me, Baby. I'm all yours. You fucking own me."

And it's those exact words of affirmation which finally push you over the edge and leave you absolutely breathless as you stumble head first into your much needed high.

As soon as your toght cunt starts tightening even more around his sensitive cock, Jongseong presses his lips against yours and quickly thrusts his cock all the way into you, making sure to graze the entrance of your womb with his tip just so he can fill you up with every single drop of his cum.

Heavy breathing, a mixture of his grunts and your moans as well as the thick scent of sex fills the space of your bedroom while the two of you try to calm yourselves down and if there's one thing as satisfying as the act kn itself to you, it's the aftermath.

"So fucking good", Jongseong sighs and wraps his arms around your shoulders, "you fucked me so well, Baby. Daddy's so proud of you."

For some reason those heartfelt words hit you a lot harder than you expected and with gesry eyes you lift your head from his neck to meet his tired gaze.

"Thank you, Daddy", you whisper against his lips and love the way Jay doesn't hesitate to kiss you.

"Let's calm down and then I'm gonna pamper you like a good girl deserves, yeah? Gonna let Daddy take over mow, hm? Is that okay, angel girl?"

Who in their right mind would ever reject such a sweet request?

And just as usual, Jongseong stays true to his words and gives you the sweetest, most gentle and genuine aftercare you've ever experienced. Not only does he run you a bath, he also makes sure to keep you hydrated, massage your body, take care of your night time skincare routine, feed you snacks and hold you close to his body as you allow the exhaustion of the day finally get the best of you.

"You're so good to me, Daddy", you mumble against his chest and place a soft kiss against his warm skin, not knowing you're driving rhe butterflies in his stomach into insanity, "thank you so much."

"Anything for my perfect girl. I'd lay the world to your feet if you let me, Baby. Thank you for giving me what I've been missing all my life."

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: AND IT FINALLY HAPPENED 🤕 im super sleepy rn so pls ignore the typos but omg you guys have no idea how patiently ive been counting down the chaps and we have finally made it. daddy dom jongseong has officially entered the chat and i'm SO ready fo indulge in it. please please please dont hold back with letting me know what you think, you guys know inlove reading y'all's thoughts 🥺 thank you sm for all the love and support, sendinc everyone kisses! feedback in form of asks, comments or messages is always appreciated babies!💞🧸)

TAGLIST CLOSED: @soonigiri @xrr-s4sha @kwiwin @heelcvr @deobitifull @kpoprhia @doodlelibrary @abrazosolorcereza @certifiedmoa @sleeping-demons @heerinnie @ohmy-moonlightx @heeswif3y @hoonieluv @fakeuwus @jjaeyuns @cheybabey @ineedsomezzz @super-amberlynn @kshoshi @tinie03 @jseongies @mimikittysblog @primroselover @heebrry @jebetwo @donghyckl @07myonlylove @enhamysunshines @quemirasboboandapaya @lostwonderwall @seuomo @enhaz1 @teawithbucky @beomgyusonlywife @dammit-jjk @lhsvibez @azurez @boutyouwonu @finchyyy @ocyeanicc @jaylaxies @in-somnias-world @zerasari @spookyauthorspopmusictrash @capri-cuntz @fluerz @3amstarlight

#enhypen social media au #enhypen smau #enhypen social au #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen writers #enhypen smut #park jongseong smau #park jongseong social media au #park jongseong smut #park jongseong angst #park jongseong fluff #park jongseong x reader #park jay x reader

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webslingingslasher · 1 month

Note

how would telling nerdy!peter you’re pregnant go

i feel like he would know before you do. *cleaning out my inbox*

peter's ears are ringing when you enter the kitchen. a paper bag is tucked into your arm while you juggle a water bottle and car keys. something about you has the hair raising on the back of his neck.

'are you okay?'

you blink up at him, you glance down to the groceries, nothing spilled. 'i'm okay, are you okay?'

peter pushes past that, it doesn't feel right. there's something he can't sense out and it wasn't there this morning. 'no, seriously, are you okay? do you feel okay?'

your eyebrows furrow as you set everything down. 'yeah, why?' peter watches you closely, his eyes trailing after you as you moved around the kitchen. 'i don't know. something feels off, are you sure you're okay?'

you laugh with your head in the fridge, it's cute when he's worrisome. 'i promise i'm fine!'

peter lays off, but something is different about you and he can't place it.

---

peter swears something is wrong, he's had an odd buzzing feeling that keeps him tethered to your side and reaching out every thirty minutes when you're not around him.

you kept telling him you were fine and peter thought it would even out eventually but it's been two weeks and it's gotten worse. it's gotten so bad he doesn't want you leaving his sight.

like this morning, you gagged around your toothbrush and scraped your tongue clean with your teeth, your face went sour as you looked at peter.

'that tastes rotten.' the toothpaste went bad. you have no idea how, or if it's possible, but your mouth tasted like you just gargled with orange juice and made out with a mint.

peter tried it out for himself and told you it was how it's always been, but you made him promise he'd buy a new tube anyway. he agreed but had something tugging at his stomach, this wasn't normal.

the final straw was a few days later and you approached him with your head in your hands and a wince. peter almost jumped up from the couch, his movements panicked but touch soft as he cradled your face.

'talk to me, what's wrong?'

you suck in a deep breath, it makes your pain amplify. for the first time ever, a headache as you wanting to faint into peter's chest. 'sweetheart?'

your voice cracks, it's never been this bad before in your life. 'my head really hurts, petey.' it's all you needed to say, peter kissed your forehead and started nudging you towards the bedroom.

'go lay down, i'm going to get you some advil, alright?' you nod, it's weak, it feels like your head is a thousand pounds. you feel useless while you sink into the mattress, the first thing peter does is rip the curtains closed, it's almost pitch black and you've never been more grateful.

'pills.' they're deposited into your hand. 'water.' you take a small sip, peter tilts the cup back up when you lower it, you take a larger gulp. 'down.' you follow his direction and melt into your pillow.

'close your eyes.' you do. peter presses a kiss to your forehead, another on your cheek. 'i want you to take a nap.' you can't bring yourself to open your eyes and instead pat his hand instead as a response.

peter thinks you're asleep before he's out of the room.

you think you've been down between two and three hours and you could use another four. the past week you've been as good as dead, work must have exhausted you. it would explain the sudden sore feet and urge to constantly nap.

but more than sleep is the deep pit of hunger you have. peter's cooking dinner and it woke you from a good slumber. you doubled up on lunch today and you're thinking of doing the same with dinner.

as you roll out of bed you're happy to report there's no more migraine. you repeat this to peter the second he asks how you're feeling as he's plating your dinner. 'good.'

you lick your lips at the ceramic peter sets in front of you, he sits next to you and as you grab your fork, he stops you. for a moment you think about crying.

'i need to talk to you, we need to talk.'

every bit of you shrivels up. you think you might actually start crying. 'okay.' it's as timid as you feel, peter's eyes soften immediately, he's not mad, he's just serious.

'i'm talking to you as your husband right now, not your friend. i know you feel fine, you've been telling me that for three weeks. i don't feel fine. i'm anxious over you and it's starting to tear me apart. i need you to go to the doctor's, i need them to tell me you're okay.'

you feel your heart crumble a little, you never meant to make him so upset. 'peter, i know you're worried but i promise i'm okay.' peter really doesn't want to scare you but he's unsure of how to get you to listen.

'it feels like there's something wrong with you, alright? something i can't see or diagnosis. so i need you to go to a doctor, okay?'

you've never seen peter so freaked out and his sixth sense has you a little scared because if he can sense things before you can but he can't place it, that means it has to be bad.

you nod fast, you'll do anything to bring him a peace of mind. 'okay. i'll make an appointment and you can come with me. then we can squash this together, right?'

he hates to admit it, but peter doesn't feel any better when you agree. he's going to be biting his nails and pulling his hair until you're sitting in the doctor's office with a green screen and a thumbs up.

----

'they're making me pee in a cup, peter.'

'that's normal. they're screening you.'

'because of you! they asked why i wanted an appointment and i had to tell them 'my husband has a bad feeling.' i've never pissed in a cup before and now they probably think you're poisoning me.'

'something's poisoning you.' you rest your hand on his arm, you've never seen peter so worked up. 'is it really that bad?' it has to be, the week before your appointment he refused to let you out of his sight. he wouldn't tell you anything beyond a tugging feeling in his gut.

and if you're being honest, you're not complaining. because there's something about peter that's had you clinging to him and begging for him at every waking moment because everytime he touches you, there's a whole new wave of sensation and pleasure that wasn't there before.

'i haven't slept the last three nights because i'm scared i'll wake up but you won't.'

'oh, petey. i promise i'm okay. there's been nothing wrong beyond that one headache, i promise. but look, we're at the doctors and i'll get a clean bill of health and we can have a nap when we get home?'

he doesn't seem satisfied with the answer. 'okay.' it makes you anxiously chew on your bottom lip, you're not peter, but you've known him long enough that this isn't normal. it makes your heart hurt because he's been in a panic for over a month now and you keep shrugging him off.

'i'm sorry i didn't take you seriously, peter. i'm sorry i made it get to this point, i promise you in the future i won't wait so long.' except peter doesn't know if you waited too long and there won't be a next time.

'i'm gonna go pee in this and then i'll be the next one up.'

if you thought peter was nervous before, he's now one breath away from a panic attack, shaking his knee and chewing on his thumbnail before you're back to sitting with him and then bouncing up to tug you with him the second your name is called.

----

even your doctor was slightly puzzled at your claim. you'd answered normally to every question. no sudden changes, no balance issues, no blurry vision, no stomach pains, nothing.

'sexually active?'

'yes.'

'are you using protection?'

'no. we stopped a little over a year ago.'

'date of your last period?'

you look at peter for help, he shrugs, you think back. 'i haven't gotten it this month yet. so i think last month?' she scribbles quickly, then double checks.

'headaches?' you shake your head, your husband clears his throat. you want to roll your eyes, instead you remind yourself this is for peter's sanity.

'i had one last week. that's it.'

'breast tenderness?' you cup them, nothing. 'no.'

'you did a urine sample at check in?'

'yes.'

her small chair spins when she stands, 'let me check on it. i'll be right back.' peter opens his mouth the second the door shuts behind her.

'i don't care what you say, if it comes back clean, we're getting a second opinion.' then, 'actually, i'm going to insist on a blood test.'

'peter,' he holds up his hand. 'i'm serious. there are things that your pee won't tell them, there are so many things that could be floating around your bloodstream.'

you're doing this for him. you're doing this for his peace of mind. you need to keep telling yourself that this isn't peter, this isn't normal. you trust him more than anything and if he's saying something is wrong, something's wrong.

'okay. we'll get a second opinion, or a specialist, or a blood test, or whatever you need me to do.'

that's all you needed to say, he finally somewhat relaxes, but stiffens right back up at a knock on the door. you lightly kick your feet on the bench and smile politely when the doctor reenters. there's a nod at your smile, you stop your movements, it feels serious.

this time, she doesn't sit down. this time, she has a file in her hold and only looks at you. 'so, i have your results here, but before i continue, would you like your husband to be in the room with you?'

your heart sinks and your face drops, they found something. peter was right. something was wrong. but how did you not know? how did you feel totally fine? if anything you kept telling him that you've never felt better and you've never been so energetic.

you reach for peter without thinking, he squeezes your hand tighter than you are. 'yes. i need him here.' when peter's standing next to you, the doctor looks at both of you and clears her throat.

'you're pregnant. i'd say somewhere from four to six weeks estimated by your last period date.'

you don't say a word, neither does peter.

'i'll give you two a moment alone and come back in... lets say ten minutes? then we can talk about your options moving forward.'

silence. you don't move a muscle. the door is shut and you're staring at empty space, you can hear the clock ticking on the wall behind you, peter's chest brushes your back.

'baby?'

'yeah?'

'did you hear what she said?'

'yeah.'

your eyes close at a soft kiss to your head. 'are we happy?' your heart clenches, your hand rests over your stomach and your mind starts to catch up.

'pregnant.' it's all that will come out. peter gives you another kiss, it's just as delicate as the first one. 'you are.' your hand washes over your tummy, you don't feel pregnant.

'you did this to me.' peter nudges your hand away and moves his own in the same circle, you think he's looking for the same thing. 'a little bit.' he's holding back any excitement until you make a call but you see the way his eyes are shining.

you exhale until your stomach puffs out, it's a mimic for what's to come. 'you're gonna make me look like this.' peter smiles, he likes what he's hearing.

'so are we happy?'

pregnant. pregnant. you're pregnant. you have a baby in your stomach. you have peter's baby in your stomach. you're pregnant.

you're pregnant and you're so damn happy.

in a second you're tugging at peter for a crushing hug. 'we're pregnant. we're gonna have a baby and we are so fucking happy.' you didn't think it was possible. peter's kissing where he can reach, you pull back to look at him, both of you teary eyed.

it'd been a year and you thought kids weren't in the cards. you weren't actively trying but you both agreed to stop preventing too. and each month when you got your period, you didn't mind, you loved peter and if it was just you and him for the rest of your lives you'd be more than okay with that.

but this? having a baby with the person you love most in the world? it's a token of your love, something that would be both him and you forever.

'i really hope they have your eyes.' peter shakes his head, 'no way. for their sake, i hope they get all your genes.' you feel your lower lip tremble, there's finally an explanation for all the tears you've shed over the past week.

it didn't even have to be sad. everything was accompanied by tears and this is no exception. peter doesn't care, hormonal or not, tears are tears and he's causing them. 'what did i do?' his thumbs brush under your eyes, on guard for any wetness that dare pass them.

your voice is watery when you answer, you know it's silly but holy shit, this feels serious and you'll die on this hill for whatever reason. 'i really want...' you blink, big drops are caught in a second.

'i really want them to have your eyes and you don't want that.' peter moves fast and you exhale a shaky sob into his chest. peter is in the process of damage control recon.

'i was making a joke, honey. a really bad, terrible joke. i'm so so glad you want them to have my eyes, i'm super honored, sweetheart. of course i'd love it if they did.'

you sniff into his shirt, 'do you mean it?' there's a sprinkling of kisses over your hairline. 'of course. you want our baby to look like me, how could i be offended?'

it's enough to have you relaxing, you wipe your own eyes clear before clearing your throat and scooting away from peter. 'i'm sorry, i don't know why that was so important to me. i think you'll have to deal with this a lot.' you feel shy, all of a sudden you think you're asking for too much.

'i'm gonna be so annoying peter. i'm gonna cry and puke and hate things one second and love them the next, i'll get grouchy and miserable and sore and by the time i go to pop this kid out you'll hate me.'

'hey, shhh, you're doing that thing where you think too far ahead. one problem at a time, right? crying isn't an issue, we've been together long enough i know how to navigate that. puke? um, babe, i hate to remind you, but this little gold band on my finger tells me in sickness and in health.'

you feel your pout slowly lift up, he always has an answer.

'as long as it's not me you're hating, i'll manage. i've dealt with your grouchy mornings for years, and i still look forward to every one. if you're miserable and sore, i'll give you a massage. and by the time you pop that kid out, i'll be so damn excited to have them meet my favorite person ever. my wife.'

peter releases a quick breath. 'how'd i do?' you chose the right person to do this with. you really did.

'i'm so excited to do this with you.' your husband beams, he made you feel better, you're worrying over nothing. peter has this handled.

'i am too. we need to get you some vitamins and i should start emptying out the second bedroom. we should also look into some books and maybe some classes, may said my mom took lamaze classes and it saved her during labor.'

'and a doctor! we need to schedule with your OBGYN, and i need to clean out the fridge. i don't think you can eat deli meat, maybe i'll start looking at some-'

'peter, we're having a baby.'

it stops him from his tirade, he hasn't been able to stop smiling. 'we are.'

'and you were right, something was wrong! you're like one of those cancer sniffer-outer- dogs.' peter tilts his hand back and forth. 'i mean, that's not cancer,' a point to your soon-to-be bump. 'and i'm not a dog, but i know when something isn't normal.'

'do you think you sniffed it out the second you knocked me up?' peter holds a straight face, you bite back a grin and whisper out to him.

'peter?'

'yeah?' he's just as quiet.

'we're having a baby.'

peter can't stop his coos, your face cradled in his hands while he presses tiny kisses over your cheeks. you don't feel as robbed from a home test, you always figured you'd have the moment where you're in the bathroom with shaky hands but instead you're in a doctor's office and you realize the setting doesn't matter, it's the person you're doing it with.

the celebration halts when there's another knock on the door, when the doctor sees the blinding smile on both your faces she shares her own. 'i assume this is good news then?'

you both answer at the same time. 'really good.'

she looks even happier and gently bows before taking a seat and grabbing a few squirts of hand sanitizer. 'then let me be the first to congratulate the both of you.' you both say thank you and your heart elevates ten levels when she addresses you as what you're about to be.

'so, mom, i assume you have an OB established?'

mom. mom. mom. you're going to be a mom. your head spaces while you nod, your doctor seems relieved at the answer. 'great. i want you to reach out and schedule an appointment, they'll be able to tell you a little bit more about what to expect and the next steps. depending on how far along you are, you and dad might be able to hear some heart tones. in the meantime, i recommend you get on some prenatals and limit your caffeine intake.'

mom and dad. you think you like the sound of it.

'any questions?' peter looks at you, then the wall. he's got one but he's scared to ask, your doctor senses this. 'dad? the floor is open to you, too.' you fawn at his pink cheeks, he loves the new name like you do.

'um, are there... limitations on what she can do? physically?'

a small grin, she knows what he's asking. 'honestly, mom should keep doing her day to day like normal, things will start to get hard when she gets bigger. if you're asking if there's any limitations on sex, no, it's just all based on mom's comfort.'

'mom's been very comfortable.' you speak from the corner of your mouth but she hears you and she's got a gleam in her eye. 'those extra hormones can be fun. any more questions?'

you're sure you'll have a thousand but right now all you want to do is lay in peter's arms and talk about who your baby will eventually be. you shake your head, peter says no for the both of you.

your doctor stands and warmly grabs your hand, then peter's and smiles once more. 'again, i congratulate you both. you're in for some of the best times in your life, and some of the hardest, but i promise you, that smile on your baby's face at six in the morning while you're exhausted will make it all seem worth it.'

carrying peter's child already makes it all worth it. he would've been as happy and content as you would've without kids, but you know how much he's always wanted them and this feels like the most ultimate act of love you could give him.

'thank you. we're really excited.' because you are. you both are.

---

the second peter opens the car door for you, you squeal and hold him close to you. 'you're gonna be a frickin dad. that's so hot.' you giggle at tender pokes at your side. 'you said the same thing when i proposed.'

'commitment makes you sexy, parker.'

'ditto, mrs. parker.'

#nerdy!peter

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beingsuneone · 6 months

Text

Memories & Delusions

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

SYNOPSIS: Jason Todd is dead, you have to remember that; even if the newest villain in town is both incredibly sexy and reminds you of the boy you used to love.

FANDOM: DC

PAIRING(S): Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

RATING: PG

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Tim

GENRE/AU: fluff, different timeline AU (not mentioned in detail but the timeline is different than canon), canon divergence, reader is kind of like Stephanie so NOT Bruce’s kids but she does live in the manor.

WORD COUNT: 3.9k

WARNINGS: Swearing, mentions of blood and injuries.

A/N: I could fs do a part two to this ;)

DEDICATIONS: Myself for having this idea for more than two years and finally getting it out in writing in some way

CREDITS: N/A

“Jesus Christ! Who the fuck is this guy, Batman?” You exclaim, panting hard through your mask; whoever this Red Hood guy is… he really knows your team's weaknesses. It’s disconcerting.

Weirdly enough, he’s left you mostly alone.

Bruce shrugs from across the room. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

It’s a blur of movement as Red Hood tries to attack mostly Bruce, only attacking Dick or you if you get in the way.

He’s said almost nothing since this fight started.

After a few minutes, Bruce sends a signal and jumps out of the half destroyed building; Dick follows and jumps out shortly after.

Leaving just you and Gothams latest criminal.

You’re about to turn to jump again, when suddenly your wrist is caught in Red Hood’s hand.

The familiarity of it makes you gasp and freeze.

He stares down at you, intimidating and silent through his red helmet.

Returning his stare, with as much fiery energy as you can muster, you try to pull your wrist away; His grip is like iron and you can’t.

“Don’t get in my way, Y/n.” He says, making your heart drop with the use of your civilian name. “I won’t choose between you and my goal.”

Your back is rigid and you’re breathing has stopped… if he knows your name, that means he probably knows everyone else’s too.

Fuck.

He finally lets go, brushing past your stiff body.

You’re too shocked to follow him.

….

“He knew my name, Bruce!” You say, feeling panicked. “Do you know what that means?”

Bruce nods curtly. “It means you aren’t suiting up until we’ve taken him down.” You try to protest but Bruce holds a hand up to cut you off. “It’s not up for discussion.”

You fidget with the small red pendant hanging around your neck, something you do whenever you’re feeling too many emotions.

It reminds you of Jason, the first boy you’ve ever been in love with and also the last; Jason was also Bruce’s second adopted son.

Jason Todd died five years ago.

But when he was alive… There was something special about him. He was always so eager to help Bruce by being robin.

That was back before you had your own suit; really, you’d only gotten a superhero identity so you could hunt down the joker and get revenge for Jason, but Bruce had managed to convince you not to do that in the last five years.

Probably for the best, even if seventeen is too young for someone to die; even if having a strong bond ripped away from you before it could become anything still hurt so badly.

You follow Bruce down into the batcave. “What do we know about Red Hood? Do we have any idea how he originated? It seems like he just popped out of nowhere.”

Bruce contemplates his answer as he unlocks the bat computer. “All we know is that he would have had to fly under our radar for months in order to take over the whole underground drug ring.”

You over hover his shoulder, trying to see what’s on the screen below him. “I don’t understand how we wouldn’t hear anything about him? With that many people who work for him, you’d think one of them would mention something.”

He hums in response. “They must be terrified of him.”

Alfred inserts himself into the conversation and ushers you back into the main part of the manor. “Alright, Miss. Y/n, You’re officially off duty indefinitely.” He pauses. “Like Master Bruce said, it is safer if you disconnect yourself from your hero identity.”

You frown. “If he knows my real name, he probably knows where I live.”

“He also told you, quote ‘don’t get in my way’ end quote.” Alfred tuts. “He clearly has no intention of hurting you as a civilian.”

You huff and head up to your bedroom, feeling like you really need to be out there but not really knowing why.

You suppose you don’t know what to do with your time anymore, now that you’ve been superhero-ing for so long.

When was the last time you read a book? Or watched a movie, just because you wanted to? It’s been too long…

Your bookshelves mostly carry decorative encyclopedias and other books that would bore you to sleep, so you leave your room and head just down the hallway.

The door creaks as you push open and clicks when you push it shut; then, you’re left in the silence of Jason Todd’s bedroom. Unchanged and untouched from the last moment he was in here.

It’s a little messy but nothing out of the ordinary for a teenage boy; the bed was never made, and his clothes were ever put in his drawers despite them being washed.

There’s books pulled out and just scattered in places, schoolbooks, comic books, novels… finally you spot what you wanted to find.

It’s a very old and very worn copy of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, something the two of you used to read together when you’d sneak onto the roof of the manor at nighttime.

You’d watch the stars and one of you would read the book out loud, until eventually you both would pass out and give Bruce a heart attack the next morning.

Maybe it was time to revisit that tradition, even if you were only reading to yourself.

Bruce and Alfred are in the Cave so you find your way into the roof and lay back. The shingles are definitely more uncomfortable without Jason to lay on, but it’s still a nice feeling nonetheless.

Just the act of laying under the stars with that book in your hands, makes you feel a kind of warmth that you haven’t felt in years.

You close your eyes and take a long, deep breath of night air; It’s fresh and ever so slightly damp, but in a way that makes you feel nice. The cold nips at your body in all the right ways.

Unfortunately, all bliss is momentary, and someone clearing their throat makes you jump a couple centimeters upwards.

You’re met with the bright red helmet of Red Hood.

“Pride and Prejudice, huh?” He says casually, though you're pretty sure he has a voice changer on, which makes his voice sound more irritated than it probably is.

You back up a few inches. “Bru-” Red Hood slaps a hand over your mouth before you can finish yelling for help.

You squirm in his grip, but he just maneuvers you so that your back is to his chest and you can barely move which makes your body lock up again— you can’t help the feeling of familiarity that settles in your stomach, or the way your body reacts to his.

Worst of all, he smells just like… no, it must just be where you are.

Jason Todd is dead.

And yet.

“Relax, Y/n, I’m not here to hurt you.” Something about him makes you listen and you relax your body. He kind of half-scoffs in response. “Are you done?”

You nod as best you can. He releases you.

“Who— why are you here?” You say, trying to ignore the fact that everything about this masked man reminds you of Jason.

Your chest rises and falls irregularly as he stares at you.

His head snaps away randomly. “Why should I tell you that?”

“Don’t answer my question with a question.”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”

There’s a look of defiance shared between the two of you, or, at least, on your end. You can’t actually see his face so you’re really just assuming.

You spin away and blow out a labored breath. “God, I must be going insane…” Even the way he talks with you sounds like Jason.

“You’re so short, you look like a bunny who lost its carrot.” He says with a laugh.

“I do not!” You exclaim angrily, your mouth dropping open. “Okay, that’s it, I’m calling Bruce.” Your hand slips into your pocket to pull out your phone, and just as it's out of your pocket, Red Hood grabs your wrist; he traps it in one spot and yanks the phone from your hand.

He gently sets it on the ground. “Tell that fucker whatever you want, but wait until I’m gone.” The tone in his voice sends a chill down your spine. He seems so angry…

With that, he leaves, taken the same way that you took off the roof.

You stand there until you hear the roar of his motorbike, and then you finally retreat from the roof with the book clutched tightly to your chest.

…..

“I’m going with you, Bruce. You can’t stop me.” You say, already moving to try to grab your suit.

“No, you’re not.” He says sternly, blocking your path. “You need to stay out of this fight.”

You raise your eyebrows in challenge. “I’m going whether you let me wear that suit or not.” Bruce apparently doesn’t like this because he frowns even harder than before. You continue, “You can’t go alone. Dick is out of town and Tim is at school. Let me come.”

“You forget I did this by myself for quite a while before I adopted Dick.” He says firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Bruce doesn’t need your help, you know that; helping him isn’t your real goal.

Ever since the rooftop incident with Red Hood you’d gone into some sort of obsessive spiral over his similarities to Jason.

You feel like you need to talk to him again, touch him again… just to see why he’s so familiar; you feel insane.

The deepest parts of your brain scream at you that it’s not just similarities, that he really is Jason but… he can’t be; you watched them bury Jason’s body.

“There’s something else going on with you.” Bruce says, basically sizing you up.

You stiffen, which unfortunately gives away your next lie. “There’s nothing going on with me.” No excuse comes to mind so you don’t say anything more.

Bruce pauses for a beat.

“This has nothing to do with Red Hood.”

“Okay? Why would that matter?” You say dismissively, but also way too fast. “I don’t think keeping me locked up at home helps anyone.”

He sighs and finally caves. “Fine, you can come.”

…..

You aren’t sure how this situation devolved so quickly, but your communications got cut off a while ago and you haven’t been able to find Bruce or navigate very well through the rubble.

You’re bleeding heavily from a few different cuts and you’re pretty sure you sprained your ankle.

The faint cackle of the Joker makes you dive under a fallen piece of concrete, because if he comes this way he’ll surely kill you.

But the laugh recedes so you crawl out and sit against it instead.

You’re just about to start sobbing from the pain when you hear footsteps again; you go silent and try to move but you don't allow that.

You see a flash of red, and then Red Hood turns a corner into your line of sight.

“Christ’s sake, Y/n.” He mumbles. “What happened?” He approaches and drops down so he’s sitting on his feet, he stares for a moment, and you assume he’s assessing your injuries.

“You can’t call me that— here.” You hiss when he presses a finger against your ankle.

He stands up and takes both your hands, completely ignoring what you said. “Up. But don’t stand on your bad ankle.”

You grip his hands and stand up, holding your bad ankle in the air; Red Hood scoops you up bridal style not a moment later.

You squeal. “What are you doing?”

He stops walking and turns the face of his helmet directly toward you. “I’m taking you back to my base so I can help you get fixed up.” He interrupts you before you can speak, answering the question you were going to ask. “Batman isn’t here anymore, he went to follow after the Joker.”

It’s a rough walk to his bike, and it lasts for about ten minutes; ten awkward minutes of you being carried by Red Hood.

Red Hood who’s supposed to be a criminal and your enemy. Red Hood who brings you more comfort than he should just because of who he reminds you of.

He settles you onto the bike, pulling out an extra helmet before he speeds off.

…..

“Jesus, you sprained your ankle really badly.” He curses, performing whatever medical procedures as you hiss and whine at the pain.

He’s already stitched and/or dressed any of the open wounds you had and he saved the worst for last.

“Okay,” he says absent-mindedly. “I can’t do this properly with this thing.”

He reaches for his helmet but you stop him. “You’re taking your helmet off?”

He hesitates, then nods slowly. “I have to. If you don’t want to see, then shut your eyes until I’m done.”

You nod and squeeze your eyes shut.

He sighs softly and gets back to working on your ankle.

…..

“I swear to god, Bruce, it’s him. Red Hood is Jason.” You say, purposfully making your voice flat and void of emotion. “He has to be.”

Bruce just stares.

And stares.

Sympathetically, softly. But he stares.

“Jason has been dead for a long time, Y/n, and you know that.”

“No— I know, but he can’t be— that has to be him.” You back up into one of the chairs in the batcave, trying to calm your racing heart; you still try to keep a calm outward facade.

“What makes you think he’s Jason?” Bruce asks.

You weakly gesture at nothing with your hand. “Just look at him. He’s— everything about him is the same.”

Tim snorts from the computer. “The running drug rings and murders?”

“Not appropriate, Tim.” Dick says flatly and Tim’s face falls quickly.

You don’t blame him, you probably would have made a joke like that too.

Shaking your head, you stare at the floor past Bruce. “They sound the same, they talk the same way, they look similar— hell, they even smell the same.”

Bruce’s brows furrow. “How do you know what he smells like?”

“Uh…” you stall. “You know, close combat.”

Apparently, he drops it even though he clearly doesn’t believe you, because he asks another question. “We’ve never seen Red Hood unmasked, how do you know they look similar?”

You shrug. “They just do. There’s just something about him. I haven’t been able to shake the feeling for a while.”

It’s silent again for several long moments.

Then Bruce shakes his head absentmindedly.

“Jason is dead, Y/n. No matter how much we miss him, he can’t come back.”

But he’s wrong, he has to be.

Because no one is that similar to someone. You’re sure of it.

……

Your cheeks are wet and your eyes are starting to become raw from you rubbing at them.

Sobbing pathetically on the rooftop of the manor because you had to be reminded about a death that happened a long time ago is not the highlight of your day.

It’s stupid, going from sure of yourself, to telling yourself you’re so stupid for ever thinking it could be true in the first place.

There’s footsteps beside you, but you don’t look up. You don’t care enough to see who it is.

You fidget with the necklace around your neck as you sniffle into your knees.

Something clicks and then hisses as if air pressure is being released before you hear a tiny thud, and then someone pulls you into them.

You know who it is now.

“What’s wrong?” He asks quietly. You know you could look up and confirm your suspicions at any moment but you just can’t bring yourself to do it.

It’s not true, after all, because it can’t be. It’s not possible.

You shrug against him. “I’m reopening old wounds for no reason.” You pause. “Why do you trust me?”

He’s silent, contemplative for a while. “You’re you.”

You laugh dryly. “That doesn’t explain anything.”

“You haven’t even bothered to look have you?” His hand strokes lines in your hair. “You could. I don’t think I’d mind.”

“I don’t want to know.” You say, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m not ready for that.”

He nods, you can feel the movement through his body, even though it’s subtle.

You sit, wrapped up in his arms for a long while before he clears his throat softly and asks, “what old wounds have you been reopening?”

Your eyes well again, but you choke back the tears. “An old… friend, I guess. He died.” You start to pull back but you don’t look at his face.

Instead, you bury your face in your hands again. He lets you pull back. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

You shrug. “It was a long time ago, he just meant a lot to me— and it’s really hard because you remind me so much of him.”

He makes a sort of strangled sound and then clears his throat again but more rough this time. “Why do you say that?”

His voice sounds even more similar without the helmet and voice changer. This man is going to be the death of you. Maybe literally. “I don’t… I don’t know. It’s just everything.” You shake your head and laugh sardonically. “It’s driving me insane.”

“How did he die?” His voice is darker than before, and there’s a sort of undertone you can’t place.

“Brutally.” You stop, take a deep breath, and offer only a bit more context. “The Joker.”

He hums. “The Joker‘s alive and ruling this dumb city.” He pauses. “How do you think your friend would feel about that?”

“Probably about the same as I do. Sick.” You run a hand through your hair, purposefully trying to avoid seeing his face. “That’s why I became a hero, you know. I wanted to kill the joker because he killed Ja- um, my friend.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“People stopped me before I did something I couldn’t come back from.” You say, wrapping your arms around your legs. “I hope the joker suffers a terrible death, but I don’t think it should be by my hands. He wins if I spend the rest of my existence regretting it.”

Red Hood picks up his helmet and clicks it back on. “Right.” He stands and stares down at you. “I have to leave now.”

You shudder at his sudden coldness, and stand abruptly. “Okay, I— um, goodbye…?” You want to smack yourself at how unsure you sound. “Did I say something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “I just don’t know why you would ever regret ridding the world of someone like The Joker, that’s all.”

Stiffly, you nod and wipe your hands on your pants.

“Sorry about your friend.” He finishes, before leaving you alone on the roof again. “Too bad I didn’t know him.”

Basically, crushing any hopes you might’ve had that he was Jason.

……

This is an atrociously stupid idea, you know; driving directly into the den of Gotham's biggest drug lord is the smartest thing to do.

But Gotham's biggest drug lord is Red Hood, and you’re fairly sure he won’t hurt you. Mostly.

His lackeys though, don’t seem so forgiving.

“Who the hell are you?” The man who barks the question at you, is raggedy looking and has the worst, most distasteful tattoos you’ve seen in your life.

“I’m here to see Red Hood.” You amend quickly, “I’m a friend of his.”

“Yeah, right.” The other guard says, a bulky looking woman who is also insanely beautiful… unsettlingly so. “A fragile little thing like you, friends with our boss… please.”

You scoff. “Trust me, I’m not fragile.” Stopping, you contemplate whether it’s a good idea to start something, considering your ankle is still healing. “Just call him.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever.”

An old phone hangs on the wall and she picks up the receiver and quickly dials a number. “Hey, I have a woman here who says she’s the bosses friend— her name? I have no clue— Oi, what’s your name?” The woman barks at you.

“Y/n.”

“Her name’s Y/n.” She’s silent for a minute while we all wait, then she hangs up the phone aggressively and yanks your arm into her grip. “Lucky. Let’s go.”

The corridors are a bit confusing to navigate, but you’re mostly just following the woman, who seems very familiar with them.

After ten minutes you reach a door, it matches almost every other door, but it has ‘boss’ written crudely on it in spray paint.

“You’re on your own from here.” She says gruffly before stomping away.

You take a moment to collect yourself before you knock, and the door swings open before you can even finish knocking.

“Why are you here?” Red Hood sounds breathless behind his mask, as if something winded him. “How did you remember how to get here?”

“I’m… actually not sure.” You chuckle quietly to yourself as Red Hood pulls you inside.

He sits down at a desk after pulling a chair out for you to sit in. “Again, why are you here?”

Your heart seizes for a moment as if the reason why you’re here hit you all over again. “I want you to show me who you are.”

“Are you sure?” Red Hood questions slowly, his body locking up. “You’re not going to like it.”

You nod curtly. “Yes, I need to know.”

He takes a deep breath and stands up, coming right up close to you. Far enough that you could see his face clearly but close enough to have your knees buckling.

He reaches up and presses a button you can’t see. The helmet hisses and opens, he pulls it off.

And your jaw drops.

Standing there, in grown up glory, black hair, green eyes that used to kill you, is Jason Fucking Todd.

“You’re— You’re not— dead.” You stammer, almost reaching out to touch him before you yank your hand back.

You’re so irrationally angry and also relieved and devastated all at the same time.

Jason sets the helmet down. You can’t decide whether to hug him and never let go or slap him for waiting so long to tell you. “That’s a… complicated story.” He pauses. “I promise I’ll tell you that story but I just— can’t get into that right now.”

You nod slowly. “Okay… that means I can get fucking pissed now.”

You’ve clearly confused him when you wrap your hands around his waist and squeeze tightly while also cursing him out. “I can’t believe you waited this long to show me.”

You can see the smart-ass comment on the tip of his tongue but he bites it back. “I knew you’d find out eventually.” His eyes caress your body and there’s a look of longing lingering in his eyes; he seems to be contemplating something. “Fuck it, I’ve been waiting too long to do this.”

You barely have time to react as Jason lowers his face down to yours and kisses you; As soon as you realize what he’s doing, you kiss back.

His hands go to rest on your hips, as you slowly get pushed back into his desk behind you. When you hit the ledge of if, Jason lifts you onto its surface, and pulls back.

“I’ve wanted to do that since we were kids.” He says quietly.

You gently touch your lips, almost in disbelief. “I’ve been wanting you to do that since we were kids.”

All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.

#dc #dc x reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #batfam x reader #batfam x y/n #batfam x you #red hood #red hood x reader #redhood x reader #redhood #dc universe

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writinground2 · 6 months

Note

can u pls write some katie mccabe x reader where reader has dyslexia?

I'll Have the Special - Katie McCabe

Y/N felt her body heating up as she heard everyone placing their order to the waiter. She tried to tune them out, re-reading the menu options again, then jumping back to the start when she would catch what someone else said.

“Oh umm, just the special,” she offered the teen a smile, handing him the menu when she was nudged for her turn to order.

The teen seemed overwhelmed with the large group and scribbled her order down without looking up.

Y/N sunk into her seat when he walked away, and conversation resumed. The anxiety of racing to read the menu and not hold up the group slowly seeping away. She took a couple sips of her drink to settle her nerves before joining the conversation again.

Her stress quickly spiked when her plate was set in front of her. Two large, battered fish filets sat on a pile of French fries. Being allergic to fish, there wasn’t anything she could eat off the plate. Having been so stressed about attempting to read the menu, she hadn’t actually listened to what the special was that night. Ordering the special had been a panic response when the menu kept getting jumbled in the noise of the restaurant.

“Oi! Switch with me!” Katie quickly reached across, trading plates before Y/N had a chance to say anything. Y/N sighed in relief when she saw food in front of her that she could eat.

Katie gave her subtle wink before stabbing her fork into the fish, helping cool it off quicker to eat.

“You didn’t have to switch meals with me,” Y/N mumbled while the team walked back to their hotel after supper.

“You didn’t seem happy with what you got, and I’m not a picky eater, no biggie,” Katie shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m allergic to fish,” Y/N muttered out, embarrassed that she ordered something she wouldn’t have been able to eat.

Katie paused her step for a second when she heard what Y/N said, “why’d you order the special then?”

Y/N flushed and refused to look up, continuing to walk a couple steps, Katie quick to take a few large strides to catch up, “I wasn’t listening when he said what it was, and I wasn’t ready to order, so I just panicked and said the special.”

“The team would have waited for you to decide,” Katie furrowed her brow, the team was always patient, some nights it took forever to place orders, much to the frustration of many staff having to make multiple trips to take orders.

Y/N hesitated her steps now, glancing around to see how far they were from some other groups of people having separated during the walk, “it wasn’t about being indecisive,” she huffed and dropped her chin to her chest, “I couldn’t read the menu. It was too loud to read in there.”

“Too loud to read? That’s the dumbest thing ever,” Steph push her way between the pair, not stopping as Katie told her off.

Looking back at Y/N, Katie could see her jaw set as her cheeks flushed pink, eyes focused on the ground as she shuffled to follow the group again. Katie caught the fabric of her coat, pulling her back to a stop. Glancing around, she realized they were at the back of their pack of players, “what do you mean it was ‘too loud to read’?”

“Nothing, it’s dumb, like Steph said,” Y/N shook her head and tried to pull away.

Katie tightened her grip, “it’s not dumb. Especially if it means you end up ordering something you’re allergicto.”

Y/N kicked her toe into the pavement, watching as a stone bounced off the edge of the sidewalk, “you know how you turn the radio down in the car when you’re looking for an address?”

Katie nodded along, “it’s like that, but I can’t turn down the world. Normally, if I take my time and really focus on just the menu, I can manage it. I’m just tired from the game, so the restaurant seemed extra loud, and people kept talking to me, I couldn’t do a good job to focus on reading.”

“You’re dyslexic!” Katie caught on quick to what Y/N was saying, quickly mumbling an apology when she realized how loudly she spoke.

Y/N nodded, “I’ve gotten pretty good at covering. I try and order last or look the menu up ahead of time, usually both. Most places have pretty good specials, so I just get that if I can’t.”

“You never actually get what you want, do you?” Katie frowned.

Y/N shrugged it off, “it’s usually fine. Tonight was kind of the exception I guess.”

They started walking again, keeping the pace slow, uninterested in catching the group.

“What about during film and meetings and such?”

“Jonas gives me a printout with his notes so I can follow along easier. And I try and sit in the back of the room, I can follow better if I can say what I’m reading. But listening I’m alright.”

“What else can I do to help?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Y/N shook her head, not wanting anyone’s pity.

Katie sighed, pushing the button for the elevator, she wanted to help, but she wasn’t going to push the girl when she seemed uncomfortable as it was, “alright, but if there is ever anything I can do. Or if Catley, or anyone, says something dumb or bugs you about this. You tell me.”

Katie fixed her with a hard stare, showing how serious she was being.

The next team meeting the defender watched as Y/N settled in the back of the room with a few extra papers. She kept glancing over to make sure Y/N wasn’t struggling to follow along, readying herself to jump in to help if needed. Each time, she would see Y/N’s lips moving as she quietly whispered the words Jonas had on his screen or watch Y/N’s finger slowly move along her page.

Over the next couple days, Katie watched Y/N. She didn’t know much about dyslexia, so she didn’t know if there was anything she could help Y/N with, but she wanted to make sure she would at least be aware and help avoid putting Y/N in any more situations like the restaurant. Katie knew there wasn’t much she could do to help, and Y/N seemed to be fine on her own, even noticing the small things she did that seemed to help. She would place one ear bud in during breaks to have her phone read messages to her, ducking off to the side to use voice to text to respond.

Katie felt a little bit of guilt settle in her gut when she thought of all the times the team had gone out for dinner or coffee and Y/N felt rushed to order something she didn’t want because she felt to embarred to admit her struggle. She had seen the panic on Y/N’s face while they went for coffee after training, and someone suggested a new place. Y/N had been participating happily with the group, but dropped back and grew quiet as she put her ear bud in, attempting to search the café’s menu while keeping up with the group.

Y/N kept to the back of the group as they entered, scanning over the large chalkboard, lips moving while mouthed the words slowly to herself. Katie quickly skimmed the menu, recognizing they had gone to an unnecessarily witty café, all the names of the drinks long, poorly executed puns, forcing you to read the description. Looking beside her, she could see Y/N quickly growing frustrated with herself. The bright, multi coloured chalk and overly designed boards creating chaos in her brain as she tried to decipher any of the drink names, none of the words coming together for her pretend to make an order.

One by one the girls each order and moved to the side, waiting for their names to be called. Leaving Katie and Y/N the last to order. Y/N’s jaw clenched when a couple entered the café behind them, putting more pressure on her to decipher the menu.

Katie could tell Y/N was about to give up and potentially decline ordering all together.

“We need another minute, you can go ahead of us,” the defender nudged Y/N over, motioning for the couple to order before them.

“I have no idea what I want,” Katie stayed close to Y/N, “maybe whole latte love?” she pointed to the first drink on the board, “or smashing pumpkin spice latte?”

Katie continued to read some of the obnoxious names, pointing to each one as she went, watching out of the corner of her eye as Y/N’s shoulders slowly dropped.

“Blah, who came up with these? AC/DECAF? The count macchiato?”

“Thank you, Katie,” Y/N whispered when she had finished reading the menu.

“Anytime,” she winked and moved to order, Y/N ordering quickly behind, tapping her card to pay for both.

Katie made a point of sitting next to Y/N at restaurants, sharing a menu, causally pointing things out, and reading them out loud. She did her best to be subtle and avoid drawing attention to them when she did it. She had learned what Y/N preferred to eat and only read those options out for her, patiently holding the menu up her to continue reading at her pace in case there was something else she wanted.

“Oh, this one sounds good, filet mignon with bearnaise sauce and seasonal vegetables,” Katie dragged her finger under the words as she read it out loud, Y/N softly whispering after the brunette finished speaking.

Katie continued reading the options to herself, then reading out another she thought Y/N might like, “herb crusted chicken breast with rice pilaff.”

Y/N would forever be grateful the way Katie patiently read menus to her, never making her feel dumb for struggling over the process. Her ability to offer help so casually and discreate amazed her. The defender was normally so brash and blunt, that she was caught off guard at how she just made it seem like she was thinking out loud the way she read things off to Y/N.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #katie mccabe imagine #katie mccabe x reader

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pvrkacciosan · 10 months

Text

These Hugs of Yours

A/n: this is the third F1 Post, after a received over 500+ notifications in under 24h after posting my initial first two F1 posts, I'm not used to this attention, but I am so appreciative of it, so thank you to all you lovely human beans who have been leaving notes and re-blogging.

Synopsis: Reader has endo, and its that time of the month, to make matters worse, you must educate your boyfriends on how to help

Pairing: Pierre Gasly X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Details of pain, mention of severe period symptoms, Vomiting, slightly clueless Pierre, Endometriosis , Swearing, french terms of endearment (google sourced)

Word count: 1.3K

There was nothing else but the overpowering pain that shot through you,

Everywhere, it was everything you could feel, stemming from the source; Your uterus. Which seemed insistent and rather quite content on ending you both.

The cramps were pulsating and had you curled into a ball on the top of your bed, with the lights switched off to try and salvage yourself as the headache split through you.

The painkillers you took about half an hour ago had little effect, as they usually did. As useful as a chocolate fucking fire guard.

You could faintly hear the noise of keys outside your apartment door, and the shuffle of shoes being toed off at the entrance way.

"ma chère"

You couldn't bring yourself to utter a response, instead rolling slightly, you stuff your face further into the comfort of the plush pillow, muffling out your whole expression.

You could hear Pierre as he moved about no doubt, trying to seek you out in your usual spots, you had only been with him for a few months, but ever time you were visited by you period, he had been away from home. Leaving you to deal with the devil herself.

As the haze of your pain cleared for a second, you could just make out the noise of his footsteps getting closer, the door swung.

"ma chère?" Pierre asked, concern lacing the term of endearment he insisted on calling you.

The lights were flicked on, and even Pierre couldn't miss the distinct whimper of pain that mewled from you, the sound muffled into the surface of the pillow.

"Y/n" his tone was more serious, he padded towards your side of the bed, kneeling onto the mattress so he hovered above you.

You lay slightly angled away, Breathing labour to try and ease through the pain as it began to wreak havoc through your body once more, the stabbing running up your spine now,

Pierre gently reached over to brush the hair away so he could see your face,

"Baby, whats wrong?" he switched to English, doubting you would comprehend French when in this much pain, the grimace on your face made the Frenchman panic slightly yet he didn't move, only brushing the side of your face, tracing a thumb down your cheek bone.

As the pain traveled- a current of chaos, the pulse of pain in your back always made you nauseous and when you felt the burning at the back of your throat you sprung up, Pierre light quick reaction time allowing him to manoeuvrer out your way as you shot off the bed and towards the bathroom joined to your room.

Throwing yourself onto the tiled floor, you felt the jolt of pain shoot up your knees as they collided harshly with the floor, you stuck your head in the toilet bowl as the contents of your stomach came up.

Over the noise of your own retching you could hear your boyfriend's panicked voice as he rambled small amount of french mutterings under his breath as he moved to you.

Finally aware of his approach you tried to kick out at the door to shut it on him,

"No, Y/n," he stopped the door and moved to be beside you on the floor,

Pierre began to rub soothing circles onto the middle of your back, the repetitive motion gave you something to focus on,

"I don't want you to see me like this" heat bloomed in your cheeks,

Pierre shifted so he sat with you body between his legs, having him close eased your nerves slightly,

"I'm not going anywhere"

but the pain waved back again, you had a second to cry slightly before you were throwing up once more, his hand never once leaving the spot at your back,

Once you finally finished, stopping your hand from shaking when you placed them against his thighs, which hugged you closer.

Pierre gently pulled you back until you where pressed to his chest, the pain had exhausted the energy in you, so when your own head fell back to rest on his shoulder you let a sigh escape your lips,

"chère?"

Shaking your head, "It isn't usually this bad"

Pierre shifted at the slight detected of the quiver in your voice, sounding a second from breaking, when you tilted you head to peer at him from the corner of your eyes you found him in thought as he watched you,

"Its my period, Pierre"

His puzzlement dissipated and he rocked you both slightly, waiting on the floor with you still hugged to his chest.

There was silence until he finally whispered,

"What... what am I supposed to do?"

Sitting up away from him, you turned to meet his gaze, you faintly caught the movement of his hand as it drifted towards you stomach, Placing it there, the warmth of his hand under your shirt, well his shirt, was like bliss, he began to gently message the skin over your womb,

"You don't have to do anything, Pierre"

He shot you an offended expression,

"Its my job to take care of you, so what can I do?"

You had to squeeze your eyes shut, as another wave of pain began to rise slowly inside you,

"I could get you pregnant." Your eyes snapped open at his suggestion, his statement was so forward that you ignored your pain altogether for a moment.

"That way you might get nine months of relief" his reasoning made you giggle, this god send of a man, who had completely flipped your life upside down, who you one day say yourself potentially starting a family with, had suggested pregnancy as a way to avoid your period. As though it hadn't its own flurry of symptoms and pains, though you suspected he wasn't the first man on earth to make the suggestion, or the last.

"I think some of your hugs might suffice for now"

Pierre nodded, his cheeks a deep red.

"I'll emm.. I'll let you clean up, " he pushed up from the floor, "Are you okay to stand?"

Gratefully taking the hand he extended to you, you rose up off the floor trying to hide the wince when the pain bolted from you once more, easing your weight onto the side of the sink, you nodded for him to leave, he shuffled out leaving you.

Brushing your teeth and rinsing out your mouth and splashing your face quickly, you made way back into your room,

You could hear Pierre on the phone to someone in the hall, following the sound of his voice, the living area of your apartment was open and warm, the light glow of a candle lighting up the corner from where Pierre had lite it.

Seeing you wander in, he ended the call,

"Who was that?"

"Just work, they wanted me to come in an look over data"

Stopping dead in your tracks, you shot a deadpanned expression at him, "Pierre.."

"No, I have far more important things right here" he extended both arms, gesturing you towards him. Normally you would have protested but as the pain began to swell once more, you made for the couch,

His whole body had engulfed yours, just as you liked, his chin nuzzled against the crown of your head. Everything about this felt right, despite the pain; you could feel the exhaustion taking over, eyelids growing heaving.

"You never said no" Pierre mumbled into your hair, where he left a round of soft kisses, moving to press his lips to your temple, they were warm and gave you something to focus on besides the pain.

"Hmm?"

"About a baby."

"Make me a Gasly first, then we can have that discussion."

There had been a time in your life, where you would never dream of marrying a man had had only been in your life for a few months, but Pierre seemed to make the exception.

Your Boyfriends only answer was to tug you closer into him, and kiss your temple, settling to simple enjoy the feel of your body pressed to his.

He fully intended to take you up on that one day.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula one #formula 1 imagine #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #endometriosis

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lure-of-writing · 7 months

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Can I request an angsty fic for az: ok so the good ol’ forgetting the anniversary because he was too preoccupied with elain, and at first he is like don’t over exaggerate, we had like over a hundred anniversaries already and elain seems to need him more, whom he already considers a good friend, but later he realizes his mistake and MUST grovel to win reader back 🤭 maybe you can add some sprinkles of eris and the jealousy trope in it, eris always having had a little crush on reader but its nothing serious, he just wants to agitate azriel lmao

Ok but no Eric would absolutely live for irritating Azriel with his crush on his mate. Like every time Eris happens to be around Azriel he asks how his mate is doing as if she were with him and not Azriel. Any who this is my first request so it might not be great but I hope you enjoy it!

For as long as you could remember you have always been a hopeless romantic. You wanted the soft but passion filled kisses, the slow dancing in the kitchen at midnight, the late night talks that turned into laughter filled pillow fights and after you met Azriel you got everything you wanted and more. But lately he's been preoccupied. And as the spy master of the night court you knew that he would be busy especially with the new added addition of baby nyx, Rhysand wanted Azriel to make sure that there was absolutely no cause for concern. But having been mated to Azriel for so long this was nothing out of the ordinary for him or his work schedule.

A week ago you reminded Azriel about your upcoming anniversary and told him to make sure he had gotten the day off or at least the night. So when he flew off into the crisp morning air you weren’t worried about him not making it home in time to celebrate. Of course it was nothing like your first anniversary or your one hundredth but nonetheless you wanted to celebrate like you always did, honestly it was a tradition at this point. Two hundred and fifty years in, you couldn’t quit now.

Slowly the morning turned into the afternoon and the afternoon into night and your mate was nowhere to be seen and you were starting to get worried. Was he ok? Did something happen? You weren’t a part of the inner circle so you never truly knew what was happening within the court or who was needed where but with it approaching midnight you called out to Rhysand mentally hoping that he would be able to explain your mates lack of presences and reassure you that he was ok. After a few minutes Rhysand responded to your question. “I haven’t seen him since this afternoon. Is something going on? Are you ok?” his response only panicked you more, if Rhys hadn’t seen him since this afternoon then where was he? “Yes I am ok it's just our anniversary and he hasn’t come home.” again it was silent in your mind until you heard Rhysands response. “I’m glad you are ok, I will get ahold of Azriel and send him your way.” “Thank you.”

Fifteen minutes went by before the front door opened and walked in your mate. “Are you ok? I have been so worried about you, you were supposed to come home at seven.” it wasn’t like this was the first time Azriel has arrived home at a late hour so your concern confused him. “Why wouldn’t I be ok? Its not like I arrive home at the same time everyday, you should be used to this by now.” upon hearing his words you realized that he must have forgotten what day it was. “Azriel do you know what today is?” he gave you a judgemental look as if to say why wouldn’t I? “Of course, its wednesday.”

“Is that all?” again he looked at you confused “Yes.” he sounded so certain of himself. “Not our anniversary?” as soon as the words left your mouth he knew he was in trouble. “Shit baby, I’m sorry I must have forgotten.” it was your turn to give him a questioning gaze “Azriel in the two hundred and fifty one years we’ve been together you have never, not once forgotten our anniversary so why now?” Azriel knew he couldn’t lie to you so he told you the truth.

“I got caught up with Elain and she needed my help and I must have lost track of time.” your mate watched as your face fell at his news. “And when exactly did she need your help?” “Around two” he watched as you nodded your head in fake understanding “And what exactly did she need your help with?” Suddenly Azriel understood how what he said sounded. “She started training and she needed my help with a few moves.” Again you just silently nodded “I see, and Cassian couldn’t have helped her why? I mean does he not train Nesta?”

“Y/n I promise it's not what it seems like she just needed some help. Why are you getting so upset about it anyways?” how could he not see why this upset you “Not only have you never forgotten our anniversary but you know that Elain has feelings for you.” so this is what that was about, Elain having feelings for him. “Elain knows that I have a mate and what does it matter that I forgot this time it's not like I forgot every other time.” “Just because she knows that you have a mate doesn’t mean that she respects it. I mean she doesn’t even respect her own mate and it matters because if it wasn’t for Elain you wouldn’t have forgotten. Honestly it feels like you care about her more than you care about me.” Azriel just sighed at this, he had already had a long day and didn’t feel like having an argument with you when he just wanted to sleep. “I don’t care about her more than you and you know that, it's just she's not used to her fae body yet and needs extra help. She's just a friend and right now she needs me more than you do.” With that you left for Amren's house where you knew you could find comfort.

Just a few hours later you were talking to Rhysand about what happened between you and Azriel when his office doors swung open and strolling in was Eris. He gave the room a once over but when he saw you sitting on the sofa diagonal from Rhysand desk he couldn’t help but sit right next to you, after all you were his favorite mate of the inner circle members. “It's been too long since I’ve seen you last my darling y/n.” giving him a polite bow of the head you responded “It's nice to see you as well prince Eris.” something about seeing you get shy in his presence brought joy to him. “Come on darling no need for formalities” When you first got to know the inner circle Rhysand made it known to you that he would always have your back like you were family and Azriel always reminded you that you bowed to no one but without him by your side you couldn’t help but make yourself smaller and follow the rules of respecting those of that were high lords or their children. Rhysand watched as you made yourself smaller in order to please Eris and knew he had to call Azriel in even if both himself and you were less than happy with the male. “Eris leave her alone and give her some space to breathe while you're at it.” the priceling just laughed that Rhysand “Me and y/n are very good friends Rhysand I don’t think she minds.” Eris just gave your high lord a cunning smile before putting his arm on the back of the couch behind where you were sitting. Not a second longer had passed before Azriel was standing in front of you offering his hand to help you up from the couch. “Stay the hell away from my mate Eris.” Again the price just laughed “I don’t listen to you, only that lovely mate of yours. She is quite stunning. Whenever you are ready to leave him you know where to find me darling.” Eris finished with a wink. “Over my dead body” Eris just laughed at your mate for getting under his skin was one of his favorite pastimes.

After returning to your own home Azriel was fretting over you like a worried mother but you just brushed him off. “I’m fine.” was all you said before walking into the kitchen. “Am I not allowed to be worried about you all of a sudden?” he watched as you shrugged and started to grab ingredients to make lunch. “Did you forget that I don’t need you, according to you. Which means I also don’t need you trying to make sure I’m ok.” Azriel sighed before coming to stand next to you just for you to move to the other end of the kitchen. “Y/n baby you know that is not what I meant.” “Actually, Azriel I didn’t know that was what you meant.” Azriel had gotten an ear full from Amren this morning after she dropped you off to speak with Rhysand then he got another ear full from Cassian after he heard about what happened and thankful he was able to see how in the wrong he was. “Y/n please can you sit down and talk to me.” silently you pulled out the chair to the table and sat down. He followed suit. “I know what I said last night was wrong and I’m sorry I should have never said that.”

Scoffing, you just looked at him blankly “And yet you did.” “Y/n please you know I didn’t mean it.” looking at him blankly still you just said “Again no I didn’t. If I were you I would maybe stop assuming that I know what you meant.” you had never put up much of a fight when it came to accepting Azriel’s apologies so he knew he messed up. “I am sorry for missing our anniversary. There is no excuse that I can give you that would be a good enough answer for why I wasn’t here. And I shouldn’t have said that Elain needs me more than you, I was wrong for saying that. Under no circumstance would she ever need me more than my mate does.” Azriel grabbed your hand and thankfully you let him hold it. “You know how I feel about Elain and her not respecting our relationship and yet you chose to ignore how I feel because she's “a friend and needs you more then me” that is extremely disrespectful to not only me but to our relationship. Not only that but to forget our anniversary hurts because you know how much work I put into having the perfect night and making sure you know how much I love you and yet you wonder why I am mad you forgot.” Every point you made was correct and Azriel knew he needed to make it up to you.

“You are absolutely right I ignored your feelings about Elain and how she treats our relationship. I will talk to her about it and make sure she knows that just because she doesn’t like her mate doesn’t mean she can disrespect mine. I will have Cassian help her with training from now on and set clear boundaries with her. How does that sound?” with a nod of your head and a squeeze of his hand he continued. “And you’re also right that I do know how much work you put into making sure we have the perfect night. Even after all these years, I truly appreciate it. And I am sorry that I made you feel like it didn’t matter to me. You are the best thing to ever happen in my life, will you please let me make it up to you?” he watched as you pondered his question and finally you said. “Can we have a pillow fight?”

#azriel acotar #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel angst #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel one shot #azriel x reader

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kikyo-bnha-imagines · 8 months

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Can we get a scenario for Shigaraki with a healer girlfriend that always fusses over him when he gets injured?? And he tries to play it off like it's no big deal but he secretly loves being spoiled by her

The moment Shigaraki gets back to the hideout, he is greeted by your wide-eyed, panicked expression.

“Tomura!” you cry out, rushing over to him. “What... what happened? You’re hurt!”

Granted, you’re not wrong. Part of his clothing has been torn up, and there are noticeable gashes on his skin peeking through the frayed fabric. He's taken enough damage that he's even walking with a bit of a limp, and he has to admit that it’s a pain in the ass.

Despite all that, Shigaraki just shrugs in response.

“I’m fine,” he dismisses. “Just let my guard down for a bit. Don’t worry. The other guys are dead, so in comparison, they barely did anything to me.”

You puff out your cheeks, and even though he knows you’re worried, you’re so goddamn cute that it’s kind of hard to take you seriously.

“Just because you’re strong doesn’t mean you don’t need to take care of yourself,” you chastise him.

Shigaraki shrugs again. “It’s no big deal. I barely even feel anything.”

That’s a total lie, but he does his best to act tough around you. Besides, it wouldn’t reflect well on him if the leader of the League of Villains was whining over a few little injuries, right?

Instead of responding, you just roll your eyes, grab him by the wrist, then pull him into one of the rooms.

“Even if it’s not a big deal to you, it is to me,” you remind him. You lightly push on his shoulders and force him to sit down. “Now, stay there. I’m not letting you leave until you’re good as new.”

Apart from his mentor, All for One, Shigaraki is the most dangerous villain to date. There’s practically no one who doesn’t cower in fear when they hear his name. He’s powerful enough to reduce anything to dust, and he watches in delight as no-good heroes die from his bare hands.

That’s the kind of person he is, and yet, you still worry about him.

Shigaraki isn’t sure how it happened, but he must have plucked an angel from the sky. Well, a corrupted angel who willingly supports a murderer, but an angel all the same.

You lean forward, knitting your brows together, and slowly but surely, your palms begin to glow with bright, warm light.

Even Shigaraki, as determined as he is to act unbothered, can’t help but sigh in relief as you press your gentle, glowing fingers against his injuries. He can feel the pain ebb away, gradually at first, and then all at once.

Seriously, he struck the goldmine. Not only does his party have a healer now, but she’s also his super-hot girlfriend. Lately, he has to admit that life is pretty damn good.

“How does that feel?” you ask, making sure not to apply too much pressure.

Shigaraki nods sleepily. There’s something about your Quirk that makes him let his guard down and feel especially at ease. Although that can be said about being around you in general.

You run your fingers over every single wound, even the ones that are small enough not to warrant any attention. His body is back to being in near-perfect shape, but he knows that using your Quirk comes at the cost of your own energy, and you let out a heavy sigh, slumping down onto his lap.

“That’s why I said you didn’t need to do this,” Shigaraki frowns. “Look. You’re exhausted now.”

You shake your head, mustering up a smile. “No. It’s fine. A bit of fatigue is nothing if I know that you’re safe. I just always want you to be safe. Okay, Tomura?”

Before he can even respond, you cradle his cheek and lead his lips towards yours, meeting him in a soft, featherlight kiss. His face instinctively flushes, and he wraps his arms around you as quickly as possible, hoping to prolong the moment.

“I know you only worry because you care,” he acknowledges. His lips trace yours for a moment, and when he kisses you again, it’s deeper and more urgent than before. “I... love you,” he mumbles. As usual, it’s hard for him to say the words. He always thought that someone like him didn’t deserve love, wasn’t even capable of it. But meeting you changed that, and now, he knows better.

“I love you too, Tomura.”

You smile back at him again. Perhaps he’s biased because you’re his girlfriend, but he really thinks you’re the most gorgeous human being on the entire planet. You make him feel warm and comfortable. He’s strong enough to kill anyone who dares to fuck with him, that much is true, but even so, it’s nice having someone who puts his wellbeing first.

Shigaraki squeezes you tight, and he watches in adoration as your eyelids slowly fall shut, the strain of your Quirk finally catching up with you. If you happen to fall asleep on his lap, he knows he won’t be moving for the next couple of hours. But it’s fine.

You took care of him, and now it’s his turn to take care of you.

#shigaraki x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia #bnha #bnha fluff #mha fluff #fluff #romance #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #boku no hero imagines

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starrshaddow · 3 months

Text

part 3 of that uni mizu

she walked you to the bus stop that night and even went on the bus with you just to make sure you'll get home safe

You didnt talk much on the way there

The gang didnt really react much when you both said you're leaving

They all just shared a look (it was like they're telling each other "holy shit did our plan work??") then said goodbye

When you asked mizu what was bothering her

She just glanced at you with a really soft gaze paired with a gentle smile

"nothing. I thought there was, but i was wrong."

Then it ends there.

You're both just comfortable in your shared silence.

The kind of comfortable silence that's distinctly just for the two of you. Always shared by nobody else except the two of you.

When you reach your place, you turn to her.

"do you think you'll be able to get home? There's barely any busses at this time."

"i'll manage." then she smiles again, you cant help but notice how much she's smiling so softly today, "dont worry."

You shook your head and took her hand, dragging her in the lobby of the apartment

"you're staying."

She looked like a confused puppy when you dragged her to the elevators, but does not complain. She just lets you.

Honestly its pretty cute

Right now, you look and act like the most responsible between the two of you

Anyways when you guys get to your apartment she lowkey standing by the doorway, awkward and stiff af

You just glance back at her confused because why hasnt the door shut yet??

Then she just standing there like a damn scarecrow

"uh, are you going to come in? You've been here like- before?"

"oh- right." she said and closes the door behind her.

You snort.

"whats up with you? Are you tipsy?"

She doesnt say anything, just smiles (like she knows something you dont know) and waves it off

Mizu's zoning out because shes internally panicking about whether or not she should just tell you she likes you right here, right now. But you think she just drunk or something 😭

Anyways

Its fucking awkward 😭😭😭😭😭😭

You dont know why it suddenly got awkward

mizu CANT even tell it got awkward (still internally panicking, her mind is literally just: oh god should i tell her? What if she rejects me? Its a lot harder not to tell her than to wait 3 hours for a bus outside, should i tell her????????)

"mizu."

"(y/n)

You two called each other at the same time

Mizu has this expression, like a shy/surprised/nervous expression- which, by the way, is so not llike her cheeky, sly, teasing, aloof, serious, and sometimes cold face

You couldnt help but chuckle

AND MIZU'S FACE GETS EVEN MORE SHY/SURPRISED/NERVOUS (she's tryna get the courage to confess to you and you laugh at her 😭😭 how you expect her to react)

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry!" you quickly said when she looks away from you (now looking kinda defeated, it takes you back to the time she asked you a random question and you practically howled in laughter- its not your fault you find everything hilarious) "you just looked so shy and flustered earlier, it's cute!"

Mizu doesnt respond, shes just frowning now

Now you dont know what to do

"i'm sorry, what were you going to say?"

Mizu pauses for a moment and she just groans and holds her face in her hands

"i dont know anymore, it was a lot easier in my head but now-" she sighs, and she just sounds kinda sad. "i dont know."

Then she looks at you, with that soft gaze again

"how about you? What were you going to say?"

"oh, i was just going to ask if you want some tea or coffee, i'm going to make one."

"tea is fine."

When you leave she's just sitting on your couch, thinking.

This isnt how she wanted this confession to go.

She wanted to tell you somewhere else. Maybe outside during spring. When the trees are blooming and everything is shrouded in pink.

Or when it's winter, when you'll be covered in the thickest jackets. Maybe she'd ask you to go ice skating.

What she envisioned... Wasnt here.

At your place.

But as much as she wanted to wait it out, it was a lot harder than she thought.

So when you come back and give her a cup of tea, and you sit beside her on the couch

She just couldnt take it anymore

"I think I'm in love with you."

And 😭😭

She chose the worst fucking moment because now you're coughing up coffee all over your rug

Mizu immediately takes your mug off your hands to place it on the table. She pats you on the back.

she was super embarassed

When you recover, your face was whole red and your eyes were watery. not from her confession but because 1.) the coffee was hot 2.) you think it went in your lungs 3.) cleaning that rug is gonna be such a pain

Oh fuck

you look at her wide eyed

"You what?!"

"Are you okay?"

"No!- i mean yeah,- but forget about that for a sec, what did you just say?"

Mizu purses her lips, and looks at you

"I think I'm in love with you, (Y/n)"

You were unresponsive for a sec

Then there goes your beaming smile and eyes

"really?" you say

Mizu returns the smile and nods

I dont know what mizu was expecting to happen after but you were just really happy to hear her say that

So you went up to her and hugged her really really tightly.

You didnt say it back, but its so obvious. You're a grinning mess and she's a flustered mess.

She returns your hug and buries her face at the crook of your neck.

then you ask her when she had feelings for you

"Since the start." she said. "I just never realized it."

____

I think you let her sleep in your bed

😭😭imagine just saying

"you can sleep with me if you want to."

She turns to you with an eyebrow raised, her face saying "???????????"

"NO NOT THAT WAY-" you panic, "I MEAN LIKE," you deflate and you just sink in the sofa. hoping it'll swallow you whole. "...I meant sleep next to me." you say, embarassed

Now its her turn to laugh at you

"depends. what's your favorite position?"

Your jaw practically fell on the floor, you hit her over and over on the shoulder

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up! I take everything back, you're sleeping outside."

She easily (and achingly gentle) blocks your hits and somewhat loops her arm around your waist to hold you in place (you might fall off the couch).

"But I thought you love me back?"

"Not anymore, you're an asshole."

You're frowning, while she's smiling triumphantly.

Then she fixes your hair, and holds you by your head to tilt it down so she can press a kiss at the top of your head. She rests her chin on your head after she pulled away.

It was... so sweet and somewhat longing that it made your heart ache.

it finally crashed on you all at once how much she've been waiting to hold you like that.

So you wrap your arms around her waist and buried your face on her neck.

It feels right.

To be with her, to be around her.

It feels so natural and easy.

you dont have to put in so much effort for every interaction with her to work, same goes with her to you.

And when you two went under your sheets to head off to sleep

It was so domestic

She didnt feel like a stranger in your bed

It was like she was always meant to be there beside you. To be with you.

And you know what's the most interesting?

Mizu fell a sleep quicker than you did.

You just knew when her hand that was threading through your hair slowly grew lax, until it stopped moving.

So, you carefully undid the ties of her hair and let it cascade on the white sheets of your pillow.

You can only hear her low breathing and it was enough to lull you to sleep.

____

Expect that she won't be beside you when you wake up. But she did make you breakfast (you kinda wish she didnt). You just smell something burning and you just know 😭😭

Honestly, the scent of something burning was what made you get up

"mizu, i know you mean well but what even is this." you say staring at the egg she tried to fry that's practically black as coal at the edges.

"...an egg?"

"Wha-??? This was the first thing i taught you???Weren't you paying attention when i was teaching you???"

She pursed her lips

"no, i was looking at you the entire time."

You didnt know whether to face palm or to be flustered. But you were chuckling.

"mizu, i swear to god. You cant cook an egg without oil!"

"but i did it. i cooked an egg without oil." she said, genuinely confused

"that's not cooked, that's burned!"

It's a miracle that the fire alarm didnt sound off

Also btw, the same day, you saw your rug hanging on your laundry line. You just saw it after you got back home after walking her to the bus stop.

She cleaned it while you were asleep 🥺🥺

____

Ever since mizu became your girlfriend, she started showing you her chaotic, and playful, but sweet, caring, domestic, and loving side

She loves LOVES putting all the stuff you use on the TOP shelf or anywhere high that she can reach but you can't

Imagine your remote suddenly missing for WEEKS. she comes over to your apartment and she goes

"you dont want to watch netflix?"

"no..." you say sadly. "my remote is missing."

then she stands up and fucking- pats the top shelf and pulls out the remote

"What do you mean? It's right here." she said with a cheeky smile

You were just staring at her with your mouth open

"I almost disassembled my couch to look for that!"

"well, you weren't looking hard enough."

"oh, fuck you."

"i love you too."

Okay, that made your annoyance dissipate. She really knows how to get you.

____

Also fun fact, you and mizu kissed during winter. Your face was super cold and you told her about it, so she kissed your lips because your blush would be enough to warm up your face (it worked).

Mizu giggled while you stopped functioning.

___

Usual confessions i read end with nsfw, ive always wanted one that starts innocent and stays that way until the end. its super cute right??

Anways, I ran out of ideas during this time but i really wanted to get this out there 🥲

#mizu x reader #modern mizu

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kenposting · 9 months

Text

He's Just Ken <3

Summary: Ken has always been more than fond of you, and he kept that to himself, like a small thought that didn't mean much. You, unbeknownst to him, of course, felt the same, and he is shocked to learn this.

AN: Erm I grew up writing on Tumblr but then I graduated and got a job and got married and very quickly divorced (I'm literally only 21 and he slept with someone else lol) and I figured I might as well start again so I am sorry of this is ridiculous but I just think Ken is the sweetest and he would never treat anyone like that! Damn. PS: Khosh if you saw this, no you didn't.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The sky got darker every night, and for some odd reason, it really, really frightened you. You weren’t sure if any of the other Barbies felt the same. Did anyone else make sure to hurry home before the light started dimming? Sure, you could ask about it, but what if this was a malfunction? What if they sent you to see Weird Barbie?

You supposed that wouldn’t be so bad… unless they sent you to her alone… at nighttime.

With a humph you washed the thought away and roller skated a little faster. With panicked glances behind you up at the sky, you missed what was right in front of you and bumped into something. Hard.

All you heard was a yelp mixed with your own sound of surprise before hitting the ground. You blinked a few times before opening your eyes all the way. Again, you saw night fast approaching, but in the foreground was Ken.

“Oh, hey Ken!”

“Hey, Barbie!”

“That hurt.”

His skin glistened above you and you wished so bad that he wasn’t there to see you right now. How embarrassing… You really were good at skating too, but now he’ll never know that. You were quick to ask Ken if he was hurt as well, but he’s much larger than you and remained that it wasn’t more than a gentle bump. His yelp was one more of surprise and worry than anything.

One pink-opened-face ambulance visit later and you were on your way. Although, now… it was nighttime and everywhere you looked was shaded a deep blue.

Ken picked up on your uncomfort quickly, brows furrowing at the way you almost folded into yourself.

“Are you okay, Barbie? You’re usually so good at skating, I was surprised to see you fall.”

You jumped a little, forgetting he was there, your breath catching in your throat. Wait, he thought you were good at skating?

“Sorry, Ken. I’m fine! Just…” you remembered the possibility of this being a malfunction and decided not to mention it. “Just a little dazed from the fall. Do you remember which way my Dreamhouse was?”

Ken thought very hard. He looked as if there were actual wheels turning in his head. You worried he would hurt himself.

“Of course I do, I just hope you’re okay. I’m trying to think if I’ve ever met anyone that had forgotten where they lived. Maybe this requires visiting Weird–”

“No!” A silence fell between the two of you. “No, I’m okay. I just… wanted an excuse to ask you to walk me home.”

You had never seen Ken’s face that shade of pink before. Yes, you were afraid of the dark, but there was a very real underlying truth to your statement. You were always close with Stereotypical Barbie and had heard many times her griefs about Ken and the ways he liked her, and it sort of perplexed you. You got that she just didn’t feel the same, and it was sweet how he couldn’t pick up on that, but gosh… so many times you had found yourself wishing to be her, just for a day. After everything went down between the two of them, you saw a huge change in him. He was lighter, more sure of himself. You had even mentioned to the Barbies at a few girls nights how you felt very differently about him than Stereotypical barbie did, followed by squeals and encouragements to go after him. You couldn’t decide, though, which was scarier: nighttime or speaking to Ken.

Ken stammered over his response before settling on a simple “Sure,” lifting out a bent arm for you to hold on to. You still had your rollerskates on, of course, because you didn’t bring any change of shoes. Duh.

He slipped on his rollerblades too so you’d feel more comfortable, reassuring you he suddenly just felt like skating too. He thought it was cute that you couldn’t rollerblade yet and still used standard skates instead. You let him lead the way, the two of you gliding gently across the pink pavement. It was quiet at nighttime, and although that frightened you, something about this was different. Peaceful.

You noticed Ken intentionally making some wrong turns. Maybe he also enjoyed spending extra time with you. Another humph to clear the thought from your head and, before you knew it, you stood outside of your home.

Ken looked down at the ground, unsure of what to do or say now. He had also been searching (for weeks now, maybe months) for an excuse to walk you home. Never did he think that would happen, let alone the desire ever be reciprocated, even in the slightest. He started minimizing the whole thing in his head, reminding himself that it would be ridiculous if you thought of him in a way that was anything more than just friends, plus, you just fell down, you probably didn’t want to walk alone in case you fell again, and–

“Ken?”

He had truthfully forgot you were even there.

“Oh, sorry, Barbie. I’ll walk you to your door.”

Something came over you and you panicked again. What if this was your only chance to tell him you liked him? I mean, how much longer could this go on? The skates made you much taller than you typically stood. Unfortunately, so did his, and you were still much smaller than him. You resorted to standing on the toe-stoppers to gain a little height, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, Ken."

He looked like he was about to barf, but in a really good way, if that makes sense. His mouth fell open and his cheeks darkened again. He wanted to say something – so much, he wanted to say so much, but he just… couldn’t. He just stared at you, frozen in place.

You couldn’t believe you just did that. A thought crossed your mind, and at first it was sort of funny, but then very sad.

“Hey Ken, where do you sleep? All of you, actually, where do the Kens sleep?”

He still just looked at you, lips still parted. After blinking a few times, he looked around, almost searching for an answer littered on the ground somewhere. “Beach.”

He laughed at himself. “Sorry, the beach. We just hang out at the beach.”

“The beach? But its so dark out there…”

His head tilted to the side a little. “It’s always dark at nighttime. You don’t like it? I find it kind of nice, actually.”

You sheepishly shook your head. “It really scares me. For whatever reason... I always make sure I’m home before the sun goes down.”

“So that’s why you’re never at any of Barbie’s parties?”

You looked up at him and noticed your lipstick marked on his rosy cheek.

“You noticed I'm never there?”

“Of course I noticed. You’re the only reason I ever go.”

He blushed after letting that slip.

“And, it’s also fun, I guess.”

You felt your cheeks start to heat up, but that’s nothing new. You always felt like this when you’re around him.

“Anyways…” He smiled at himself. “You should come. I can walk you home every time so it won’t be scary.”

Something bubbled up inside you and you literally and physically couldn’t take it anymore. You stood up tall to kiss him again, but this time he noticed, and you stilled in his gaze.

“I…” Why was this so hard? You had daydreamed for ages about what to say to him if you ever gained the courage to speak up, and now that you finally can, it seemed impossible.

“Do you want to some inside?” That wasn’t right. “I mean, I want you to come inside. Do you also want to come inside?”

He looked at you so lovingly and let out a gentle laugh. He liked you so much, he didn’t even process what you had asked. Wait. Come inside? You wanted him to come inside? Like boyfriend girlfriend?? His eyes widened.

“Why?”

You stilled at his response. You just wanted to cry. He was right, why? Why would you ask such a dumb question? He would never like you that way, and you felt silly for assuming he would.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I’ll see you later, Ken–”

“No!” He startled himself at the outburst. “Sorry, I meant… Why me? Do you… Do you like me?”

You were relieved at his explanation, but he wasn’t exactly making it easy for you.

“Well… yeah. That’s why I’m asking you to come inside.”

It was like fireworks went off in his brain. Your words banged around inside his head so loud he couldn’t think of anything else. You liked him? You did just say yes, didn’t you? Did he make that up?

“Oh well I also like you too as well a lot very much.”

What? Literally what. What was that. He cringed at himself a little. He had also been dreaming of what he’d say to you, and this was definitely not it.

You giggled at him. He was just so sweet, and so so nervous. Both of you were. You took his hand and lead him towards your home.

Inside he just stood there, unsure of what to do. It was like if he moved he’d somehow ruin everything. You noticed he was like that a lot, actually. It made you kind of sad.

He had liked your friend so much before, and even though that was years ago, it seemed to still really impact him. You realized it wasn’t about her, it was about him. It had changed the way he saw himself. Her not liking him back got twisted up in his mind somehow and he had taken it to believe that no one liked him. He felt silly for thinking she ever would, that anyone ever would. It became part of his own perception of the world around him, that he was some sort of nuisance or a bother.

You sat on your couch and he helped you unlace your skates. His hands were stong and gentle, and with your skates off, he was now much taller than you. You stook directly at eye level to his chest. His shape was so defined. Gosh, why did Mattel build him that way?

Blinking the nerves away, you made your way to the kitchen. Bless his heart, honestly. He has no idea how good he looks, right now or ever. This was also silly at first, but now that you thought about it, it was sort of sad. Why didn’t he know? What does he think of himself? He’s always so dismissive of compliments, even from other Kens. Of course he asked why when you invited him in, he can’t comprehend being worthy of something like that. Sure, you had moments of being insecure as well, but this felt different, deeper.

You glanced up to see him still sat on your couch. He was fidgeting with his hands and looking around. He looked like he felt uncomfortable; like he was somehow gravely out of place and believed he had overstayed his welcome.

There was an ache in you at seeing him like that. As soon as you walked into the room, he perked up and smiled, thanking you for the glass of water – but you noticed his hands were shaking as he sipped it.

“Ken, are you okay? I understand if you don’t want to stay over.”

He nearly choked on the drink. “Stay over!? I thought you just wanted me to stop by, like, out of courtesy.”

You smiled warmly at him and something … changed. He felt something shift inside of him, like he could feel that your smile was genuine and real and more than a courtesy. You looked at him the way he looked at everyone else.

“No, Ken. I…” How do you say this?

“I do like you, and if I wasn’t so shy, I’d tell you all about it. I love spending time with you. You just look very handsome and its making me a little nervous.”

You heard a slight gasp from him. He had been waiting his whole life to feel liked or wanted or invited or worthy or important or… well, handsome. And to hear it from you? It was just too much. He teared up a little, something a lot less foreign to everyone since traveling to the Real World. He liked crying, actually. He just didn’t know why it happened so much. Was he just weaker than the other Kens?

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He sniffled out an apology, standing up to leave. It must've been a real mood-killer and the last thing he wanted to do was bum you out.

You stood too, taking ahold of his hand. He looked down at you and saw you were also tearing up.

“Ken, you’ve got to believe me.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t. He just stepped toward you and held onto you.

The two of you cried – and the two of you apologized for it at the same time, your tears quickly evolving into giggles. The more you both tried to apologize for being a bummer the more you’d speak over one another and it really was very silly.

He was blushing now, and he looked much more confident. He’s never met anyone that also feels so out of place. He felt comfortable around you, like he didn’t need to worry if he was bothering you. And to think you felt like you weren't worthy of him liking you? That was ridiculous, and very confusing for him, but it mad him feel differently. If he felt it was silly for you to feel unlikeable, wouldn't that mean he was silly for feeling that way too?

“Its okay, Ken, really. I like you, right now. You don’t have to do anything else.”

And he’d never forgotten that. Everyday he was excited to exist for the first time in a long time. The already pink landscape of Barbieland seemed so much brighter now, and day after day he had a spring in his step.

Months went by of him being encouraged by you, invited by you, seen by you -- he truly did like like you and he had no idea what to do about it, but he figured everyday he’d try his best to show you.

Today was exactly six months since you biffed it on your skates. He still felt bad for knocking you over, but he was glad it happened.

He breathed a shaky breath before knocking on your door. He was still always so nervous to see you, but in a good way.

You opened it to be greeted by Ken in literally a tuxedo, and you immediately felt bad after letting out a laugh. He just beamed and laughed with you, striking a pose. So cool.

“I know, its a lot. But I look good, don’t I?”

You smiled up at him and shook your head.

“Ken, you always look good. What is going on?”

He handed you a bouquet of daisies (that matched his boutonniere, of course) and a shimmery white gift box.

Shocked and confused barely scratched the surface. What was he planning? Sure, every time he saw you he brought you a gift, but it was usually something small and genuine, like a rock that ‘reminded him of you’ or something he noticed you eyeing on your last date.

He shrugged it all off as if he wasn't dressed for some important extravagant black tie event.

“I wanted to take you out and I wanted it to be special. Thought it would be nice for a change.”

You felt like crying again. All the Barbies and Kens teased the two of you for being sensitive, but you really did enjoy the vulnerability the two of you shared. I mean, how sweet is he? Could he get any sweeter?

The gift box held a blush pink gown, which, of course, made you cry for real this time.

The two of you looked very lovely together. You both giggled the entire duration of the very long and uphill car ride, Ken giving you secret directions to the spot he picked because he cannot drive (LOL).

You turned the corner to see a very small and intimate restaurant. It was encased at the edge of the mountain, overlooking the sea.

Now both of you were crying (and laughing at each other because the other was crying). He took your hand and lead you to a small candlelit table.

“Ken, what is going on? This is all so beautiful.”

He looked down and smiled, shrugging, before straightening himself up and clearing his throat. You presume he was attempting to build confidence, and it worked for a moment, but he very quickly returned to appearing very nervous.

“Six months ago you absolutely ate it on the pavement and I’m really glad you did.”

He was not off to a great start, but you found it charming.

“Not that I was glad you got hurt… Sorry, hold on.”

He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of pink paper.

“You wrote this down?”

“Hey, you’re ruining it!” He laughed at himself, feeling a little silly and overly serious.

“Anyways…” He tossed the paper, opting for improvising the rest of what he wnated to tell you.

“I’m glad you suck at rollerskating because that means I get to hold your hand and guide you. I’m glad I can’t drive because it gives me an excuse to ask you to take me everywhere. I’m glad the nighttime freaks you out because I get to swoop in and save you from it. I’m glad you cry all the time because I do too and I’m glad I do because it probably makes you feel better about it, just like you make me feel better about it.”

He was right, and his words had you crying already.

“I hope you never get better at rollerskating or not crying or being scared of the dark, and I surely hope I never learn how to drive, but even if all of that did happen, I promise I would make up another excuse to be with you. That night you told me you were also looking for an excuse to be with me when you, again, absolutely spilled on your skates, and for the first time I felt like I meant something to someone. And to you.” He sighed at the thought of it. “I can’t believe it was you. I wish I had words to sum up the amount of time I had been running through what I’d say to you if I only could, and I still choked on it, just like now. Everyday it’s like I can’t breathe when you’re not around. I mean, all the Kens hate me because I can’t shut up about you.”

The two of you laughed again, and you saw he was tearing up now too.

“I like you Barbie.” His blush deepened. “No, I love you, Barbie. And I wanted to take you here to try and make you feel even a fraction of how you make me feel. Special, and important. And handsome.”

“Ken…” He did look so handsome in the lighting, and the lull of the other guest’s conversations washed over the two of you. You realized the nighttime wasn’t so scary when Ken was around.

“Ken, I love you too.” You response was rushed, like you couldn’t help the words from just spilling out.

“I’ve always liked you, for years, you can ask the other Barbies. I don’t have the words either, but I promise I thought of you just as much, if not more. I still think of you. I’m thinking of you now and you’re in front of me.”

He giggled at you and felt the familiar warmth of being truly appreciated.

“I just wish there was some way to show you.”

His eyes looked up at you. He felt the same way you did. He also noticed sometimes you couldn’t believe he liked you either. It was a funny situation, the two of you both feeling flattered in the other’s gaze.

“Then show me.”

You couldn’t make it home fast enough. You fumbled with the door of the Dreamhouse before leading him inside. His hands were shaking again, but not from insecurity or fear this time.

He was so gentle as he touched you, grazing his hands over your arms, almost like he was seeking permission.

“Yes, its okay.”

His breath was shaky, as was yours, and every gesture was laced with respect and admiration. He was slow and attentive to your reactions. You stood tall to kiss him, but you couldn’t make it. He smiled at you before leaning down to help you close the gap, choosing to still let you kiss him instead of the other way around.

Sure, the two of you had kissed lots of times, but always very quickly. Both of you were head over heels for the other and the thought of anything more made your ears heat up. You slowly leaned forward, pressing your lips against his. He placed a gentle hand on the small of your back, guiding the two of you.

You sat on your couch like you both had hundreds of times. What was so different now? It felt personal, like you both knew he wasn’t over to just hang out this time.

“Is this okay?”

His blue eyes were just enchanting. Everything about him, actually, like all he was programmed for was making you laugh and ensuring you were always comfortable.

You nodded, asking him the same.

He smiled at you.

“Yeah, more than okay. I just want you to feel safe.”

You just wanted to scream. He was so sweet and kind and handsome and tall and silly and smart. It was just ridiculous.

“Ken.”

You began, looking very serious. He thought it was very cute.

“You said you loved me and I love you too.”

He nodded, wondering where you were going with this.

“That means we’re girlfriend boyfriend.”

He felt a little dizzy hearing you say that, like he’d imagined it so many times before, and he hadn’t really thought about it in a while.

“And I think I want to do what girlfriends boyfriends do.”

He smiled at you. You looked so sweet.

“And what is it that they do?”

You hadn’t really thought that far yet.

“I’m actually not sure.”

He knew what that felt like. When he went to the Real World with Stereotypical Barbie, he learned all about what people do when they’re girlfriend boyfriend, and a lot of it was sad and felt very mean to the girlfriends. He did remember, though, a lot of movies and books he’d read about the nice and sweet parts of it though.

“I know a little bit about it, but I’m not sure if you’d like it.”

He wasn’t teasing you at all, and you knew that. He leaned forward and whispered, too shy to speak about those things too loudly.

Your eyes widened. This all sounded absurd, but you couldn’t help but notice a warmth spreading throughout yourself. For some reason you wanted to kiss him more than you ever had.

“Of course, I’ve never done any of it before. But I guess there’s a first time for everything, and it seems like most people in the Real World take it very seriously.”

Your brows furrowed at this and you sat up straight, taking it very seriously.

He couldn’t help but laugh at you. You were just glowing, sat there in your gown he picked out for you. It was an honor to see you always, but now felt even more special. He couldn’t believe you were thinking about him. It was very sweet, but he also felt a warmth spreading within himself, one he didn’t recognize, and he also wanted to kiss you.

The two of you sat in this feeling for what felt like hours. You felt like you were on fire under his gaze, and he felt the same way.

“Ken, can I kiss–”

He didn’t let you finish.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒