#This ended up being a lot more accurate than expected
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hypokeimena · 1 day ago
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like the thing is if someone wants to have a conversation with me about tone in image descriptions i am happy to have that conversation. i have obviously pretty strong feelings about the role of the person-interpreting/translating but i think it's fair that not everyone feels the way i do. i actually often think the faux- or sincerely-"objective" tone of image descriptions is often an incredible tool for comedy! e.g. posts like, my little nephew just gave me what he calls his "duck" [image of a lemon] image id: a lemon.
that's fucking funny! deadpan can be funny! however, sometimes other forms of description are more important. image descriptions MUST BE short,* which means you are limited in the amount of extraneous description you can include. if your description takes more than ten seconds to read out loud you're pushing it.
this can GENUINELY cause problems. the description i wrote about that stupid tswift pic was me actively choosing not to do research and source it more effectively, because to ME, part of what made the op funny was not having any idea tf was going on and that was the part of the experience i wanted to focus on in my description. it doesn't necessarily matter WHAT IS IN the photo, it matters what it is adding to the post (i think all of us now understand that for e.g. memes it's more important to describe the memes and what they're doing in the post than it is to carefully describe the type of armchair someone is sitting in while saying 'why are you booing me. i'm right'.)
so someone else who experienced the post differently - i.e. by recognizing it as from the music video - is going to describe the post differently from someone who would have to do research to source it. they're going to produce two different descriptions. your experience shapes what you understand. which is necessarily going to be subjective! and i get that it's scary to add your own experience into the description, but you ARE ALREADY DOING THAT.
which is to say that i think if someone had added a description about the ME music video that's fairly detailed that would also have been both accurate and funny, but it would have been a different joke. you know? because different people have different experiences of that image.
i do, genuinely, think there is a real issue in things like description in that i do think it is genuinely aversive to expect people to do 10 minutes of research every time they want to write an image description. i also do think that people being wrong in image descriptions is a problem, which is why i do often end up doing research or deciding not to describe certain posts if i can't be sure i know what i'm talking about. but not every post is like informing you about art historical fact or something where it really matters which specific artist produced an image, or if it is a modern reinterpretation, or various other things where you need to be sure you're conveying information that will seriously alter the meaning of a work.
image IDs should accurately describe reality. but like, sometimes people are going to make a mistake. the way you react to mistakes matters! sometimes you just edit a post to fix a typo or to correct a white guy actor you misidentified and i think different people have different ideas about what level of confidence you should be feeling to write descriptions - i've acknowledged different levels of confidence being necessary for description writing in this post! i get it! reasonable people can disagree!
however being like "well you're not wrong but what if you HAD BEEN wrong" ---- i'm going to eat you. i wasn't wrong!! and even if i had been, being wrong isn't the scariest thing in the world to me! seems like it'd suck to live like that though!
*obviously transcriptions of text will be long and transcriptions of text/art mix like comics will be even longer but i think a lot of comic transcriptions are not very good, in that they often don't effectively summarize the art component of the description.
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oculusxcaro · 2 years ago
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I sold you to a pet store!
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Khare Marlin Price: 100$ Personality: Fearful. Sensitive to heat. Food: Prefers frozen food. Notes: Can bite. Breeding Difficulty: ★★★★★
Tagged byStolen from: @brokentoys, @satrniid and @thecursedraven Tagging: Whoever hasn't done it yet!
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howtodisappearcompletelyand · 3 months ago
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20/10 stars little guy
#me (scrounging undetected autist whose ideal fashion sense is ''if i have to be seen at all: shrouded'') seeing encanto the other month.....#and on top of it all i LOVE slice of life. encanto being so focused on What It's About that there's so much of that + character / dynamic#also part of what i loved abt pixar luca. ppl like ''simple story but not a problem :)'' like YEAH thank god it's Also so slice of lifey#2021 what a year lol. though again i only Just saw encanto....tfw Studio Creative Control backs off a bit more than usual: Joy & Wonders#anyway i knew going in bruno wasn't an antagonist (fine if he was though b/c slay & b/c scapegoats can do whatever they want)#knew i'd love him b/c again Scapegoat shows up & i'm the Amazing Showstopping Totally Unique Never The Same gif on loop#but what a delight even beyond those expectations lol. love again how Focused the movie is on What It's About & Thee Points it makes#the Characters / Dynamics & the Metaphor & the plot stays right with all of that. the focus & importance re: thee scapegoats....#& bruno being disabled like whole layer of Yay Yay Yay spamming. that even when He's Back we're reminded he's not ''normal now'' or w/e#(i.e. presenting that as The Good Ending for the disabled outcast. vs just being embraced as part of the group again & accepted As He Is)#meanwhile was like hmm chat is there queercoding do we think? like is he queer: Yes. but is there coding? hmm#sure isn't cishet coded though. but i was also having the thought like fellas is it gay to [higher tenor tessitura or w/e] lol#made me go ''do i know this voice? ok do i know this name / face / actor? (i have never seen anything ever / bad w/names/faces/voices)''#indeed was like yeah haven't seen this; heard of this; seen it once ages ago no way i remember more than like 0.6 details#then from ''ohh haha I'm A Mammal That Cares....yeah i hear that'' to ''omg CHI-CHI RODRIGUEZ???? ;;0;;'' waaah fantastic revelation lmao#also the way Literal Future Seer ability was externalized to make it more wrangleable for plot is so impressive & fun & excellent#got a lot of [i like this thing i saw a lot] i got to say....guess i can do that w/the sideblog i made for one drawing i made last night#encanto 2021#bruno madrigal#also the way bruno is so Nervous + Hiding / Bold + Big Personality like yes ha ha ha Yes....tamped down as ''too much'' experience#also the [stuttering stumbling muttering mumbling] line: i fr nigh wept upon going back over a moment like what am i hearing here?#& realizing the answer was: it's bruno quietly stuttering a moment during this one line (& then (& then (& then)) i saw you) ;;;mm;;;#hang onnn....the first scapegoat who's driven off being Disabled is so real so ;m; that again they're like so he got Weirder; Okay ;;m;;#that we get jorge thumbs up nobody having an Aside to be like [ugh; this guy] or Anything. augh always have too much to say for 30 tags#fabric drape there sure not accurate but i was like okay if i try to really reference that i'm not getting this done tonight
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mournthebird · 4 months ago
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Cold Metal.
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summary: Soldat's arm gets cold. You are the solution.
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warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Bucky is still in the mindset of Soldat | Medical treatment | IVs & needles | Malnutrition/re-feeding | PTSD | Post!HTP | Brief mentions of past SA and abuse | Past S/H & Scars | Trauma | Roughly translated Russian, might not be accurate
a/n: Yeah so this turned into a lot, I wrote more than I expected to. This is also my first 'fic' of him wooo. I always had this hc that his arm gets cold and it hurts him. The scars being more sensitive to the cold and cause tension around his arm. So I thought something like this would be nice. He deserves it okay ;; wc: 3.6k
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At first, it was hard. Harboring a literal assassin from the government was not an easy task, especially with one as unstable and deadly as the fucking Winter Soldier.
How you ended up doing this, you had no idea. Someone like him wasn't easy to just stumble upon, yet here you were. Maybe your heart was too good, but seeing him curled up in that alley a few days ago, shivering and soaked to the bone, a dislocated arm and bloodied from what you assumed was some kind of assault, you couldn't just leave him to the elements.
He had looked so scared, his eyes so full of confusion and apprehension when you initially approached him. He instinctively reached for a weapon at his side - a gun, a knife, anything - but found none, and the panic of a wild, cornered animal spread on his face. He even attempted to stand to fight you, like you bored any sort of threat to him. You just put your hands up in a manner to try to calm him, something as simple as standing caused him pain. He clearly had more injury than what your eyes could see.
You weren't sure how, but you had convinced him you were a safe person and that he could stay in your home. You were just trying to be a good person. He looked so scared, pressed into the wall of the old building and trying his best to look intimidating despite all the injuries that covered him more than the rain soaking his clothes. Ironically, you didn't know just who he was until you had began to delve into the news...a day after you let him into your house. Everything about him being wanted, his crimes, who he was. A sleeper agent, an assassin, the deadliest in the world. And you brought him into your home. Willingly.
Sure, at first you didn't know what to do, the fist of HYDRA sitting in the corner of your spare room, lashing out like feral dog if you came close, or god forbid even stand in the doorway. With how deadly the news made him seem...to you, he didn't appear that way. He just looked hurt and scared. His defensive behavior easily mistook for aggression.
But, none of it scared you away. You didn't care. You might've just been a regular civilian, but you were far from ignorant. You were sneaky, you knew a lot about both parties, SHIELD and HYDRA. You immersed yourself in research, learning as much as you could about HYDRA to get more information about this sleeper soldier.
Despite your efforts, you only scratched the surface.
Honestly, you didn't want to dig too far. You didn't want him to grow suspicious or think you couldn't be trusted for any reason. He already holed himself up like a hermit, it was literally like placing a feral animal inside a home and watching it search around curiously but anxiously, then hide away in a small, dark place for safety. Besides, what HYDRA had on him was disturbing enough.
He was quite aggressive defensive at first too, he didn't want you near him whatsoever. He had a lot of wounds and you knew he'd need to see a doctor, despite the physical ones you saw, you could also tell he was underweight and malnourished a little bit. You weren't a doctor yourself, and you didn't want to attempt to do anything without some kind of advice. Problem was, he was wanted. You couldn't just take him to see a doctor.
"Must things be so complicated with you?" You sighed as you spoke to him while he practically barricaded himself in your closet. You didn't mean anything serious, you were just a little stressed and frustrated, thinking of what you could possibly do to help.
In the midst of your thinking, you remembered you had a close friend who worked in the medical field. They might have done some...questionable things...but that's honestly what you need right now. Someone who wouldn't blabber, and all above and below, you kept some pretty serious secrets for them in the past. You didn't talk anymore, not very often anyway, but they were always down to help you out if needed. It would be much better than trying to drag him to an office where he'd be discovered and you'd have to wrestle him down, which would be a pathetic attempt to restrain him.
Long story short, a quick home visit pursued with stolen medical equipment and a basic check up, it was confirmed he was malnourished like you suspected. He wasn't terribly thin, but you could tell someone his stature shouldn't be so skinny, his ribs protruded too much for your liking. He was also dehydrated along with having an extensive amount of old and new injuries, an untreated dislocation, and some minor infections.
The soldier surprisingly didn't fight that much when he was getting checked out, his blue eyes glued to you the whole time, only averting to watch the 'doctor' as they moved around him. But nothing could be too easy, when the needles came out, he became a bit adamant and aggressive. He spoke in Russian, which you didn't understand. He shouted and sounded angry, backing himself into a corner as he prepared to fight like his life depended on it. His body trembled with adrenaline and he watched the two of you with an unblinking, cold gaze.
You realized it was bad. His treatment prior to you finding him. He acted like a needle was a raging hot blade about to cut his other arm off. Patience and waiting him out proved to be the best way to approach this. He was stubborn and stood his ground for two full hours before he slowly relinquished and he allowed the needle to go in for the IV. With a quick rundown from your comrade, some supplies, and promised confidentiality, they left you both alone.
You also learned how to place an IV, thanks to the instructions left with you and some YouTube videos, since you had to do it every day for two weeks so you could feed nutrients into his body. Everything he ate he just threw up, his body rejected food otherwise. Broths and mashed potatoes were all he could eat. Sometimes his body would tolerate bread and heavier, more filling foods like chicken. He eventually got to eating some veggies like soft carrots and zucchini if properly cooked too.
You still had to feed him carefully. Sometimes his body would still throw it all up and he'd get sick again. It was a grueling process.
You stuck it out and now he could slowly eat again, which was a relief. No IV necessary. He seemed glad about that too.
Besides refeeding, there was an array of issues that came along with being his unofficial caretaker. The Winter Soldier, or Soldat, as he referred to himself as, it was better than asset, was pretty difficult to care for. He was wary of just about everything, you specifically, he didn't know why you were so nice to him. He wondered if you had an underlying motive, his scrambled brain so torn apart tried to connect the dots.
Rewards came with good behavior, rewards being basic human decency and kindness. Good behavior meant pleasing his handlers.
You never wanted to be pleased. You never asked.
Was he supposed to do it anyway?
He watched you as you cooked something in a big pot on the stove. He saw you chopping carrots. He liked those. He liked the broth you made him too, and the potatoes. Good, this was safe food. Another reward? Was he supposed to do something?
You walked over to where he sat, his icy gaze watching you carefully. He was thinking behind them, you could tell, but he barely ever spoke besides simple Russian words that you learned either meant 'yes' or 'no,' or other things like 'please' and 'thank you.' While you set down a glass of water for him, he reached out and grabbed your waistband, leaning forward suddenly. The touch surprised you and made you bristle, your hand snatching his wrist instantly. "Soldat! No, no." you pulled his hand away, it nearly melted off you. Your sharp words startled him, her flinched back a little, his gaze still dull but now held a hint of confusion.
He tilted his head, frowning. "Позвольте мне служить вам." he grunted, his voice rough and raspy like he had swallowed broken glass, so unused, it was the most he had ever spoken to you at once. And you had no idea what he said.
"Don't do that, Soldat." you reasoned, speaking gently, you weren't angry, just a little shocked. The confusion on his face was clear, and fear that flashed in his eyes made you swallow the sudden lump in your throat. Why had he done that? He had never tried to touch you in any way before, in fact he avoided any kind of touch possible. Now he had tried to...you weren't sure. But the cool metal that hooked into your waistband made you shiver.
He leaned back into the couch, looking scolded and anticipating something, he was tense and stiff. You watched him, he said nothing else, his eyes glued to the floor, not daring to tear away from the spot on the carpet to look at you. He seemed scared.
"It's okay," you spoke up after a few silent moments, "You don't need to...do anything." You had a good idea of what he was trying to do, perhaps some sick mindset or conditioning had trained him to serving people before you. You knew HYDRA well enough, it wasn't a long shot to assume. The agents there were barbaric and inhumane.
He ate his food quickly and quietly, refusing to look at you the whole time, then retreated to the guest room like usual. He locked himself away most nights, you were fine with that. He was eating and sleeping, two things he desperately needed.
You sat on the couch watching a show you enjoyed, it was well into the evening by now. The bustling city now quieter and dark, the sun had set hours ago. The door to the guest room slowly opened, your attention drawn there and away from your show. Soldat nearly stumbled over his own two feet, he appeared visibly irritated, in pain somehow. It made you sit up, his expression wearing how he felt as obvious as day. "Hey...what's going on? Are you hurt?" You stood and padded over to him, to your surprise he hadn't backed away.
"Да..." he replied in a groggy, rough voice, the strain dominated the sleep and you felt more worried. For the most part, he looked okay, no obvious injury that you could see. You still tried to look him over just in case there was something he might be hiding, or maybe he hurt himself? He wasn't wearing a shirt, his skin looked fine, all old injuries as far as you could tell. Healing wounds and scars, nothing looked new or irritated.
His metal arm was cradled slightly, so you paid more attention to it. "Your arm hurts?" You asked gently, your eyes scanning it. You weren't entirely sure how his metal arm could hurt, but the tech was advanced so maybe there were some nerves somehow integrated in there. He gave a sharp nod, securing your suspicions.
"Okay...where?" You hoped maybe he'd give you more of an idea, but you doubted it. If he did speak, you didn't know Russian, it would be pointless.
He pointed to his shoulder, where metal met flesh. The nasty scars there were swollen, but that didn't look any different than usual. You observed the area regardless, looking over it for several minutes before you frowned and leaned back. You couldn't see anything that would give away any sort of pain. "How...does it hurt? It looks okay, is it internal?" You questioned slowly, hoping he would tell you, in English...
He shook his head sharply again, jerking side to side. His brows were tightly knit together and a hard breath huffed out of his nose. He reached up with his right hand, his fingers carefully touching the scars. He was so tentative, like the scars were scorching hot, or like he was afraid to touch them at all. "Холодный." His voice came out with underlying discomfort, he had to force himself not to wince.
You frowned. Of course not.
"Uh...-"
"Холодный," he repeated, his tone more firm this time like he thought repeating the word would make you understand. The expression on your face just made him feel frustrated, he grabbed your wrist with his right hand and pulled your hand up to his scarred shoulder. You weren't sure why you flinched or tensed like you expected some sort of pain, but you did.
Under your palm, you felt the stark contrast between the hot, irritated scars and freezing cold titanium.
Cold.
Was that what he was trying to say? That couldn't feel good.
"Is...your arm...hurting because it's cold?" You asked slowly, trying your best to read his face. He nodded once, grunting.
You felt stupid now. Damnit. "I see...okay, let me see what I can do." You pulled your hand off his shoulder, walking over to a small storage closet you had down the hall. Your eyes scanned the shelves until you spotted the heat blanket you had stored in there for the colder months. You grabbed it and walked back over to him, "Here, if you plug this in and drape it over your shoulder, it will keep you warm."
You offered the blanket to him, he stared at it for several seconds before he stepped closer to you, his hand around your wrist and pulling your palm to his shoulder again. You frowned a little and looked at him, "Your shoulder was cold...right? This will help, I promise." You didn't move your hand, you weren't sure what he wanted other than to warm up his arm. "The blanket will be warm."
"Нет." Soldat stared down at you with an empty expression, his eyes had heavy, tired bags under them and showed his clear lack of sleep. You weren't sure what he wanted other than the blanket, since he was refusing to accept it. Instead, he held your hand over his shoulder, sliding it gently down towards the front where his scar was deepest. You could feel his chest rise as he breathed evenly, his eyes almost closing completely.
Did he like how your hand felt?
You remained silent as he gently guided your hand along the length of his scar, where the unforgiving metal pierced his flesh and embedded itself beneath the surface. Your own breath hitched feeling it, the cold, rigid tissue gradually warmed under your delicate touch, responding to the gentle friction of your fingertips. As he continued moving your hand in a soothing motion, you noticed his tense features begin to soften, the lines of worry etched across his face slowly fading away.
The soft intimacy of the moment hung heavy in the air, you found yourself captivated by the subtle changes in his expression, each twitch and relaxation of his muscles didn't go unnoticed. Maybe he was finding comfort in your presence after so long. He had never been this vulnerable with you, and yet here he was, literally grabbing your hand and making you touch his most delicate wound.
"Do you like my hand there...?" The words escaped your lips in a whisper, barely audible. Your eyes, fixed intently on his face, sought to decipher every nuance of his reaction. You watched closely, noting the slight parting of his lips, the flutter of his eyelids, and the almost imperceptible nod that followed your question.
He was so tired, somehow still standing. "Да..."
"Ah...I see. You like my hand there? Does it feel good to rub the scars?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes traced his features, taking in every detail as you gazed up at him. Those dark locks of his hung slightly in his face, creating a disheveled yet alluring frame around his eyes. His hair was messy and tangled, clear evidence of disturbed sleep. The dim light from the tv caught the stray strands, making them stand out against the dark.
He gave a quick nod once more, his body inching closer to you in a subtle yet deliberate shuffle. His eyes, filled with an unmistakable longing, conveyed that he desired something more from you - perhaps your touch, your warmth, or simply your continued presence. "You know," you reasoned gently, your voice soft and caring, "the blanket would help warm up your entire arm, much better than my hand. Plus, it would make you much more comfortable if you decided to rest in bed..."
Even with your logical suggestion, it was clear from his intense gaze and body language that he was far more interested in you than in any blanket or physical comfort you could offer. His focus remained fixed, as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him in that moment.
You exhaled deeply, slowly withdrawing your hand from his body. A fleeting expression of panic flickered across his features before quickly fading. His gaze then fixed upon you, tracking your movement as you made your way towards the couch. You reached for the electric blanket's cord, plugging it into the nearby wall outlet. The cord snaked across the floor, a thin line connecting comfort to power. Your hand then moved to pat the cushion beside you, a silent invitation.
Maybe his earlier behavior wasn't rooted in discomfort or mistrust, but rather in a more fundamental human need.
Maybe he craved companionship, but it was hard to tell for sure, he was a stoic stature 99% of the time.
He approached with hesitation, his feet dragging across the floor as if each step required immense effort. His eyes darted around, scrutinizing the spot as though it were an elaborate trap waiting to be sprung. After a solid few minutes of tense silence, he finally lowered himself onto the couch beside you, his movements slow and calculated.
You opened your mouth, ready to suggest he cover himself with the blanket for warmth, but before the words could leave your lips, you found yourself gasping sharply as the heavy soldier unexpectedly collapsed against you.
His full weight pressed down, pinning you to the couch as he sprawled across your body. The shock of his ice-cold metal arm against your skin sent a jolt through your system, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Desperate for warmth, he burrowed his shoulder into your side, seeking out your body heat with an almost primal urgency.
The blanket, forgotten in his sudden move, lay crumpled beneath you both as he clung to you, his form trembling slightly as he absorbed your warmth through the layers of clothing between you. He certainly favored you over it.
"Ah, Soldat...-" You began to speak, but your words were abruptly cut off by a sound that was equal parts growl and whine emanating from him. His head found a comfortable resting place on your chest, and you could feel the gradual warming of his arm as it pressed against your body. He made it abundantly clear that he had no intentions of shifting his position anytime soon. Recognizing the futility of any attempt to move, you resigned yourself to your current predicament, secretly relishing the closeness.
Despite your newfound role as a human pillow, you still managed to reach for the heated blanket nearby. With careful movements, so as not to disturb his apparent comfort, you gently draped the warm fabric over his form. This additional gesture didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. He sunk even further into the embrace, clearly content as long as he maintained his position pressed firmly against you. The combination of his body heat and the heated blanket created a cocoon of warmth that threatened to lull you both into a peaceful slumber.
You knew he had settled and probably wouldn't move from this spot, he had gotten too comfortable and he was asleep by now. His heavy eyelids having closed almost instantly after maneuvering into you like a demanding cat. His messy hair smelled like your shampoo, since that was all you had to use for him.
Since it was apparent that he wasn't going to get up from his spot anytime soon, you resigned yourself to sleeping on the couch with him for the rest of the night. His cold shoulder and arm were now buried against you, your body heat gradually warming the metal and soothing the sore scars he had accumulated over time. You let your arm rest gently on his back, a bit cautious at first since you weren’t sure if he was going to react, luckily he didn’t. Your head was supported by the arm of the couch, which was quite comfortable. You were happy and relieved that you had settled on the comfier set when you bought the furniture, it made the situation more bearable.
With the soft sound from the show playing, you let your eyes close and you both slept on the couch. Before sleep overtook your mind, you wondered if this was a one time thing, if he'd return to his usual behavior tomorrow, or if this would become a regular gesture he'd want from you. Had he been silently suffering from this the whole time? He's a little heavy...but he's sleeping and that's good. You're helping him sleep. You're helping his pain. If he began seeing you as a source of comfort, then so be it.
Better that than anything else.
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Dividers by @/strangergraphics
Cover images from Pinterest. I do not claim them as my own.
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churipu · 11 months ago
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PERIOD COMFORT 𓆝 ⋆。𖦹°‧
ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, itadori yuuji, nanami kento
ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. period stuff, cramps, fluff.
note. new layout :> anyways, just reminding everyone that has sent in requests that my ask is only open to talk as of now and it will take a little long to have them out, but i assure you that everything in my inbox will be written! thank you
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𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔
gojo didn't know how periods felt. so he looks up for things he could do to make you feel better — one time he actually considered buying one of the period cramps simulation machines because he didn't like seeing you in pain alone.
keyword: considered.
you had to drop the machine out of his trolley, and the male was definitely not happy about it. he tried arguing about it with you, saying how he's your 4lifer and he doesn't like seeing you in pain alone because of period cramps.
"satoru, 'm okay. i go through this every month, 'm not gonna die because of this." you tell him, handing his phone back.
gojo whines out, "but baby, i don't like seeing you in pain. i wanna be in pain with you," he shakes you back and forth gently.
but when you were content with your choice — he accepted begrudgingly. pouting out, refusing to speak to you for at least the next fifteen minutes because he couldn't stand being apart from you that long. so instead, he searched for what he could do to help.
"look, i got three chocolates, and i got you extra pads and tampons because tiktok told me to. and i got salonpas because i heard they can actually help with cramps," gojo presented proudly, "and then lastly, me. your amazing boyfriend."
you, previously, laying down on the couch, sat up slowly with a small smile at his attempt to help you with your period.
"thank you 'toru. this means a lot to me."
"i still think i should buy that machine though, baby."
𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈
he's confused. he knows about periods, but he didn't know it pained you. the young male was in a training session one morning when you called him, expecting a cheery greeting from you.
oh, he didn't. instead here you were, moaning out in pain, "yuuji, you busy?" he could vaguely make out a sharp hiss from the other line.
yuuji was indeed busy. but he told you, "no, no. are you okay? what happened?" he was in the middle of a hand-to-hand with megumi, instinctively raising his hand to stop — and megumi stopped immediately, knowing it was important for yuuji.
"period cramps . . . can you come over, please?" he was confused, tired, and sweaty. but he didn't care about that — the male was worried because were periods even supposed to hurt you?
"of course, baby. i'll be there in a sec." he ended the call and shot a look to kugisaki, "what the hell does period cramps mean, does your . . . you know, hurt or something?"
kugisaki had to give him a one minute lecture on what he should do, step by step. yuuji listened thoroughly, running to the nearest convenience store to get what kugisaki told him to: sweets, chocolates, pads and tampons, and your favorite snacks.
and it took him no longer than eight minutes to appear at your doorstep, knocking a couple of times. still sweaty and stinky, "y/n? it's me."
"door's unlocked."
he opened the door hastily, making sure not to drop any of the things he just bought. lightly sending a kick to the door to shut it, "hi baby, how are you feeling?"
"not good. i feel like 'm gonna die." you writhe out, curling into a ball on your bed. the male approached you, putting down the things, "you stink."
he chuckled, stroking your head, "'m gonna borrow your shower, and then cuddles?"
you nod, "please."
𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎
nanami is always ready. he just knows when your period is coming, hell, he's even more accurate than your period tracker application.
"i brought you chocolates and ice cream, and a heat pad for your cramps." nanami mumbles out, kicking his shoes off as he enters your house carrying a plastic bag.
"how did you know it was my period?"
"i remember it," that was better than any "i love you" or "i miss you".
the male's always ready to bring snacks, sweets, and heat pads for you. nanami will do what it takes to cease your period cramps since he knew he couldn't feel it like you did. he feels really awful: giving you back massages, head massages, kisses to your stomach.
he said he'd "kiss the pain better".
which actually works.
i think he knows your period schedule better than you do. he'd always remind you that your period's coming soon as a heads up, and you listen to him all the time. to the point you had to delete your application since it was pretty useless at this point.
"darling, your period's coming up soon."
"really? didn't i just finish last month's . . ?" you mumbled, a little annoyed that your schedule's coming up so fast.
"in a few days, if i'm guessing — three maybe?" he replies, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.
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© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE
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roses-and-revolutions · 1 year ago
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Everyone from babies to young adults suddenly disappears from Amity Park, and the ghost portal self-destructs as well. The GIW and the Fentons obviously come to the conclusion that it’s ghosts but realize that this issue is way bigger than they can handle, so they call in the big guns, The Justice League.
Of course, they don’t tell the Justice League everything when they come. No matter how much they thought themselves to be heroes, they were simply glorified police in spandex. And with how they operate, they are all too small-minded and won’t be able to see the bigger picture. They also knew fully well that a lot of their methods weren’t even remotely close to being morally or ethically right, and if the JL found out, they would be screwed. So they simply told them enough to get them on their side. 
Besides, how could they not help with how many people were missing? This was going to be easy.
_______
The Justice League didn’t trust the GIW. Something about them was just off. But so many missing people were on the line, so many kids! 
Ghost?
Should they call in the JLD?
_______
Jason knew something was off with Crime Ally.
Nothing was wrong per se. In fact, everything was going great. Crime was at its lowest in like… forever. The general atmosphere was more calm, if not a bit chilly. He himself was calmer. And there were fewer kids on the streets. Which would have been a good thing if this wasn’t fuckin’ CRIME ALLY!
Jason’s been stressing himself out, trying to find out what was going on. He’s been searching up and down, talking to people left and right. No one was reporting anything amiss. Some even told him that they still saw the kids walking around, though not as often as before. And they also looked like they were being well taken care of.
He even saw and talked to some of the kids himself and it was the truth. 
But when he asked where they went, they only laughed and ran away from him. Shouting that he would know soon before they disappeared around the corner. At this point, he was sufficiently freaked out and was so close to getting Batman to contact the JLD, but something told him otherwise.
A few days later Jason was in bed. He had ended patrol early that night and intended to get a full eight hours if he could.
But as fate would have it, he would not. Because just before he could hit the hay he heard it. Well, felt it would be more accurate but how could you feel a siren’s song? Pulling you? Drawing you in. Telling you that it would give you your deepest desire.
He didn’t even bother to suit back up into Red Hood. He just followed it. Followed and followed, Until he got to a dead-end alleyway. But there was no ‘end’. All there was, was darkness. 
He began to get skeptical and took a few steps back. But the feeling was still there. Pulling, telling that all of his answers were in that darkness. Everything he wanted, needed, awaited beyond it. 
He did the stupid thing and went into the darkness.
He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the feeling of walking through thick goop. But the feeling didn’t last long, and he eventually stepped out.
Again, he didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. 
Kids running around without a care in the world, unrestricted. Teenagers just hanging out and being kids too. Whatever adults he saw all looked pretty young, but they were all happy. 
He looked around and noticed that it looked like a weird mix between a suburb and a night market, but it worked quite well. The stalls were all unmanned, and it seemed whoever could just take whatever they wanted. Dim but pretty lights connected all the stalls to as far as his eyes could see. And the sky.
In Gotham, there’s so much smog and bad weather you’d be lucky to even see a piece of blue during the day so no wonder people often forget about the night. But this, the night sky wherever he was, was beautiful, beyond what words and even thoughts could convey.
“Hello, Mr. Red Hood.”
Jason jumped. Was he so out of it that he didn’t even notice someone coming up behind-
Forget what he just said about the sky. The woman right here that was now standing before him? She- She-
“Are you single?”
There was silence. Then she giggled. Guess Jason didn’t need his helmet huh? His face was enough.
He also wanted to die again but hey, at least she laughed!
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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 16 days ago
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what are leona's flaws if he has any?
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Of course he has flaws, everyone—fictional and real—does. Leona’s are quite numerous and very blatantly out there in some cases, so this ask (which sort of implies he doesn’t have flaws at all) surprised me 😅 His are pretty hard to miss, no…? Of course, some of these flaws do improve over the course of the main story, but they are still largely present.
I’m not sure what prompted this question, but I hope it’s not because I somehow gave off the impression that I’m not cognizant of his flaws. I may occasionally sing the guy praises about being a good leader/big brother figure but I’d like to think that I also humble him just as much by bringing up his less savory personality traits (namely his laziness, underhandedness, and pride) and his shortcomings as a leader. I try to look at characters from all angles, regardless of how I personally feel about them overall.
That being said, there’s a slew of flaws to highlight, some of which I already mentioned earlier. Leona is:
Lazy, or, more accurately, unmotivated. If he’s not interested in it or feels he isn’t gaining something himself from acting, 9 times out of 10 Leona won’t lift a finger and/or will choose to nap instead. He frequently doesn’t even attend classes because he thinks there’s nothing they could teach him that the royal tutors haven’t. In many other cases, he ends up helping others because he’ll get something from it. For example, he may teach the first years how to properly mine magestones in his Camping Gear vignette, but only so they quiet down and he can have a quiet spot to nap.
Underhanded. He’s more focused on his desired results rather than the morality or ethics of what methods he uses to achieve those results. Lying, bending the rules, roughing up people who get in his way… Nothing’s off the table. All of book 2 basically illustrates this.
Seeking approval, often to his own detriment. This is usually framed as him wanting the crown, but it’s actually a consequence of Leona wanting to be acknowledged by others since he was without it for most of his life. These feelings lead to many self-destructive behaviors and sentiments, including the events of book 2.
Unable to take criticism. He tends to get mad and lashes out when people point out his flaws. Leona even OBs after Lilia says to his face that he has a rotten personality and could never hope to match Diasomnia’s king.
Selfish and spoiled. Let’s be honest, he just is 😭 He’s often ordering others around or expecting to be waited on and not thinking about how it could inconvenience them, yet he also acts really annoyed whenever others ask him to help out with something. Leona also rarely stops to listen to others’ sides of stories, he considers his own perspective to be the most important.
Competitive. His pride is easily wounded, especially if someone claims to be stronger than him in a particular area (even if it’s an area he doesn’t necessarily care about). For example, he argued with Vil about which of them would be the ideal suitor for the Ghost Bride and has a known grudge against Malleus, a fellow prince and skilled player in his own sport of choice.
Arrogant and prideful. This goes hand-in-hand with the other traits; Leona thinks highly of himself and his skills… perhaps too much so. Because of this, he has issues yielding his command to others or even considering opinions which differ from his own. This is why he doesn’t have a vice dorm leader; he’d rather rule unquestioningly. It’s his way or the highway!
Domineering. He doesn’t ask you to do things, he tells you to do things and you obey. This happens a lot between him and Ruggie, but also with other characters and even NPCs like the pixies in Fairy Gala (when he demands water to distract them from finding Yuu and co.).
Petty. This holds true for most of the NRC boys, but I think it’s particularly the case for Leona, who tries to beat up a magicless human for accidentally steps on his tail and then bullies that same human + some extras in a sportsball game 💀 He’s also infamous for his several harsh quips against Malleus and other characters that are just there minding their own business or existing.
Needlessly aggressive (in some cases). There’s no question that Leona would prefer to use his brains before his brawn. However, there are instances in which he resorts to magic or physical strength instead of scheming or talking out a solution. For example, the aforementioned attempt to attack Yuu (a defenseless, magicless human) for an accident. Dialogue in Malleus’s dorm uniform vignettes also implies Leona intended to put his hands on Malleus after a perceived slight. In his own dorm uniform vignettes, Leona is about to unleash his UM on second year students who are stepping out of line (Jack has to intervene and beg him to stop).
Defeatist. This stands in contrast to his usual arrogance, but I’m a strong believer in the “Leona uses his arrogance to mask for his own insecurities about being second best/place his entire life” thing. If he thinks there’s no point in trying, that he won’t be acknowledged no matter how hard he tries, he simply won’t. Instead, he’ll wallow in his sorrows and lament about things out of his control (such as birth order or life not being fair)—even though choosing to act or not is in his control. He also has a tendency to deny others’ love and respect for him, almost as if he believes it’s untrue or… he doesn’t believe himself to be worthy of those feelings.
Afraid of failure. For as cocksure as Leona presents himself to the world, he has a crippling fear of failing. That’s why he’s so quick to throw in the towel in book 2; if he deflects the blame to others or raises the white flag early, he can reason with himself that he didn’t really “lose”. There’s nothing more humiliating to try so hard only to not succeed in the end… just like he has his entire life. In the light novel, Leona also expresses that he’s afraid of having hope, because that makes it so much more soul crushing when that hope amounts to nothing. I believe it’s these feelings that also shaped his UM. Why is the identity defining magic he wields destructive? Maybe because Leona himself believes that this is his fate: the prince with naught, because everything he touches turns to sand.
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dontmixpaintinyourcoffee · 5 months ago
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OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOODDDD THE NEW TGS PAGE IS MAKING MY BRAIN GO SO FAST I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!
First off, I love how violent it is. Obviously it's tonally appropriate, but it also seems like a logical escalation from the other instances of the transformation we've seen. I'm gonna rant about it for a minute so body horror warning I guess? I don't know what other category a guy vomiting green science goop would fall into.
Exhibit A:
From the very first change, it's always been very intense.
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He describes it as deeply unpleasant and painful, because his bones are literally changing, and by the end of it he's fallen to the floor.
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Pretty expected for your first time through an extremely physically traumatic event. But he never seems to get used to it.
Exhibit B:
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This transformation takes place two years after the first one. I'm sure a lot of this is the way it is because this moment is very dramatic and it needs to land that way, but the in-world logic is far more interesting to me. His dropping the flask and collapsing implies that even after this whole thing has become routine, his body still isn't used to it. Obviously your bones changing on a dime is never gonna be easy to go through, but even after two years there seems to be almost no acclimation. He probably can't even accurately predict when the pain will start, otherwise he would've set the flask down earlier.
But both of these transformations seem somewhat predictable. It starts inside of his mouth and eyes and spills out, working from the inside outward. My guess is that that is the stabilizing effect of the portion. Because once he starts to transform without it as a catalyst...
Exhibits C, D, and E:
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The process starts to break down. It starts the same way it always did, but by the third or fourth switch he starts producing a lot more science goop (Goop? Slime? Bile? Some kinda.... Green shit. What the fuck is this shit), but with less physical change. It starts getting onto his clothes, and it seems a lot more all- encompassing than it did before. Early on the goop seems incidental. The goop and the pain are both byproducts of the potion. But at this point he's practically choking on the stuff, it's not just an ambient effect, it's something being violently purged from his system. Until we get to this point- the first self-inflicted shift without the use of the potion.
Exhibit F:
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It's completely out of control. Not only is it full-force Exorcist style exploding from his mouth, it looks like it's coming out of his skin. These two panels, to me, imply that the stuff is sweating out of his skin in quantities that are heavy enough to soak through his hair. His expression can be interpreted a few different ways- general agony, screaming, ect. - but when I imagine what this scene would sound like I think there's too much blockage for him to be screaming. The way he folds over, his wide eyes, the amount of goop, I'm willing to bet that his expression is him desperately trying to breathe.
Anyways. I genuinely love this stuff. This is exactly my type of horror. The kind that doesn't seem like straight up horror until you give it a bit of thought. Chef's kiss. Delicious. Finally some good fucking food
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wardenparker · 19 days ago
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Who Took the Merry Out of Christmas
Frankie Morales x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst
Rating: Explicit for family dysfunction. This blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.7k Warnings: Post partum depression, marriage trouble, mentions of addiction, demanding family, abusive parents, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, dysfunctional family, a very sweet baby who has done nothing wrong ever, parents abusing their adult children in front of others. (There is a happy-ish ending, I promise.) Summary: It's only been a few months since Frankie came home from South America, and both of your families are bearing down on you for the holidays. A rocky marriage and even rockier relationships with your parents are bound to make for a very tense Christmas. Notes: Sorry it's not light and fluffy this year, gang. It just hasn't been a light and fluffy time. Considering how dramatic this holiday season has been, this little slice of family trauma seemed pretty appropriate.
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Christmas. The time of year that is supposed to merry and bright. Well, the bright is accurate, especially in south Florida. Not a dusting of snow to be had, the palm trees in the front yard decorated with lights and the temperatures still letting everyone wear shorts and t-shirts if they wanted. It’s definitely not the white Christmas you had grown up with, but Frankie prefers this over freezing his ass off while shoveling snow off the driveway just to go to the store to get diapers.
The magic rubs off over the years. From childhood we outgrow the sparkle of the Christmas season as we stop thinking of it as magical, and now it's just another set of expectations that inevitably seems impossible to meet.
Both sides of your family had expected you and Frankie to host this year. Because of the baby, they said. Because now that you had a real family, it was time for you to take on the responsibility of holiday hosting. It's frustrating enough to be a first time mother of an eight month old. It's sleepless and difficult and Frankie has only barely gone back to work so money has been tighter than tight.
“Why don’t we just tell them that we can’t?” Frankie leans back from the sink where he’s finally shaving to look at you perched in the bed. You are tired and he knows that despite what you’ve said, hosting Christmas is the last fucking thing you need. “We have the baby. It’s a lot.”
"Because Christmas is next week, Francisco," you remind him. The baby monitor is on your nightstand, and you fiddle with it, but it's mostly a nervous habit. Mirabel wasn't a good sleeper for the first few months and you're constantly worried that she'll start having trouble again. "And they're coming here because of her. It was a miracle they didn't all fly down to cram into the delivery room when she was born, it seems mean to say they can't see her at Christmas."
“One— I wouldn’t have let them in the delivery room.” That memory was for him alone, he has absolutely loved being the first to hold his daughter. To be there to help and watch as you pushed his child into the world. “Two, shouldn’t that mean that they want to save you the stress of hosting?” He asks, leaning back in and putting the razor back to his cheek. “Hell, I say we order Chinese and be done with it.”
"I would agree." Stretching out in bed helps a lot. You've been dealing with a little hip pain lately that gets exasperated by carrying Mirabel around and you make sure to do stretches every morning and night – at least for a few minutes. "But we're in it now. Flights are booked. Meals have to be planned."
“I’ve got to mow the grass tomorrow.” He knows you will remind him of it so he goes ahead and checks it off your mental list. “And you need more mushrooms, right?” He makes a face in the mirror, hating mushrooms but you don’t seem to have picked up on that.
"Beef Wellington on Christmas is a family tradition." Your mother made it ever year from the recipe that her mother-in-law taught her, and now you make it every year for you and Frankie and however many of your friends you end up having over to dinner on the holiday. Usually it's the Miller brothers, this year might include Pope as well.
It’s good that he’s in a different room than you are so you don’t see the face that he makes. He hates the Beef Wellington, he’s just never been able to admit that. When you were dating, you could have served him a boiled shoe and he would have praised it. It was better than an MRE or the shit they served in the chow hall most days on base. And Frankie’s idea of cooking was either firing up a grill or going out to eat, so home cooked whatever was good to him. Especially when he knew he was getting laid after dinner. Now he’s stuck eating mushrooms every damn Christmas and it sucks. “I know.” He sighs, turning on the water to rinse the hair out of his razor. “I changed the sheets in the guest rooms.” He tells you. “And made sure your mom has the ‘good pillows’.” He rolls his eyes, again, happy you can’t see him because you would definitely scold him for that.
“Thank you, honey.” You know damn well he thinks it’s ridiculous and probably had a running monologue going why he made the guest beds about how picky your families are, but his parents are just as bad as yours in different ways. That’s why this holiday is going to be so fucking stressful. Part of why you work so hard to make family visits perfect is because his mother has never approved of you. “We’ll make sure everything is perfect. It will all be fine.”
Frankie hums as he finishes shaving and wipes his jaw dry. It’s a little jarring to see the smooth skin, he’s sported a patchy beard since getting out, but he’d decided that one thing he needed to do was look better after getting his pilot’s license back. He steps out of the bathroom and grins at you. “Hey baby.”
“Hey.” You say it before you look up, and when you lift your eyes you do a double take. “Clean shaven, huh? It’s been a while.”
He shrugs slightly, reaching up and rubbing his cheek lightly. “Figured your mom would complain less if I was clean shaven.” He had even gotten a haircut, not nearly as short as when he was active duty, but trimmed from the longer curls he had recently been sporting.
“Mira’s going to spend half of tomorrow poking at your face,” you predict, smiling softly. It will be the first time your daughter has ever seen him clean shaven.
He snorts. “As long as she doesn’t cry.” He slides his eyes along your body, not caring that you are in a comfy t-shirt and short, you look sexy to him. “So what are my chances of getting lucky tonight?” He asks, lifting a brow.
“Are you suddenly into somnophilia?” It proves your point that you can barely stifle a yawn. Getting up multiple times a night to pee or see what Mirabel needs takes its toll on your rest, and god knows you never ever get to sleep in anymore. Sure, you knew being a mother was going to be exhausting, but this is above and beyond that.
His playful grin slips and he shakes his head. “No baby, not if you’re too tired to enjoy yourself.” He doesn’t sigh, but he does miss the intimacy, the closeness of sex. Instead of complaining, he reaches back into the bathroom to flip off the light and starts walking towards the bedroom door. He will check the doors and downstairs windows one last time before setting the alarm, a habit of his. “You need some water or something downstairs?”
"No, I'm okay." It's not that you don't want him. He's still the same gorgeous man you married and conceived your daughter with. It isn't a matter of want. It's a matter of being so exhausted and feeling so disgusting from never having time to thoroughly shower and always ending up sweaty and sticky somehow. You don't feel like yourself, and you haven't since your second trimester.
But unloading all of that on Frankie doesn't seem fair when he's finally getting back on his feet with work and therapy and kicking his drug habit. The man doesn't even drink anymore, because he doesn't want to slip up again. So you keep your mouth shut and don't bitch about your own discomfort.
He sighs softly as he goes downstairs. Another night where he’s turned down, but he understands. You’ve been dealing with some postpartum issues and he doesn’t want to push. He just wants to make love to his wife more than once a month. It’s another reason why he had thought hosting Christmas would be a bad idea. You are already worn down and frazzled, despite Frankie sharing the load of the house and baby with you as much as he possibly could. This is just going to add more stress to your already loaded down shoulders and he doesn’t like it at all.
You turn over and slip under the covers when he goes downstairs to check the alarms. Being overwhelmed and depressed has you feeling like you're out drowning in the middle of the ocean and have suddenly forgotten how to swim. The best thing you can do right now is try to sleep.
Frankie comes back upstairs, slipping into the bed and curling around you. He hates that instead of curling against him, you huddle against your side of the bed. Wondering if you are secretly still pissed at him for the entire Coke thing. “I love you.” He whispers before he closes his eyes.
You love him, too. You do. And you have this whole time. It's just so hard to pull yourself out of the bottom of the ocean of your depression and uncertainty that you just pretend to be asleep and hope that you both knock out quickly.
Maybe tomorrow will be better. Probably not, but maybe. After all, it can't be worse.
******
“It’s okaaaaaaay.” Frankie bounces his very upset little girl on his hip and shoves a finger in her mouth. She’s teething and of course woke up in a horrible mood. She hiccups and he grabs the teething ring to throw it back in the freezer for a little bit. “It’s okay, baby girl. I know it hurts. Believe me, it doesn’t get better when you have a cavity either.”
"But she'll have good dental hygiene and never have a cavity in her whole life." You call from the kitchen, working your ass off to make sure that each and every bit of Christmas dinner is accounted for perfectly. Frankie isn't the world's best cook by any means, but this family tradition is ingrained in your bones -- beef Wellington, scalloped potatoes, green beans with almonds, and a demi-glace gravy to make everything even richer and fancier. It's a far cry from what you normally eat but that is sort of the point. It's the holidays. This is the time to be fancy.
He snorts. “Not if she gets her teeth from my side.” He calls back. “I’m ninety percent fillings at this point.” That makes her giggle and he grins at her. “Was daddy funny?” He walks her back into the kitchen to find you frantically stirring something. “I’ve got the living room vacuumed and the egg nog is in the garage fridge.”
"Have you heard from your parents yet?" Your in-laws are always early, which is not exactly a sin but it is inconvenient. If they say they'll be somewhere at 7 then they are always there by 6:30, wondering where on earth you've been for the last half hour.
“Not yet.” He loves his mom, he really does, but he’s not blind to her persnickety nature. He’s talked to her about it but it seems like she doesn’t bother you. A wonderful thing considering she’s run off more than one girlfriend of his over the years. “You know her, she’s gonna show up when she wants to. At the most inconvenient damn time.”
“I just want to have dinner in the oven when they get here.” The Christmas after Frankie proposed, your own parents had hosted everyone and Vanessa Morales had been less than impressed when your mother was still getting things into the oven when they arrived. It apparently didn’t matter in the least that they were early.
“Roger.” He kind of treats the parents visiting like a mission, a hostile one.
“Where did the Millers end up this year?” You can’t tell if it’s better or worse to not have his friends here as a conversational buffer. Part of you is grateful for fewer people in the house and half wishes you had friends here to lean on.
“I think Will and Teresa are going to get back together.” Frankie admits. “He said him and Benny were going to have Christmas with her and her brothers.” Frankie had always liked Will’s ex-fiancée and he knew you did as well.
“Good.” That’s a relief, showcased with how easily your shoulders drop with just a touch of tension dropped. “Good. That’s…That will be really good for them. I know they’ve missed each other.”
“They have.” Frankie pauses for a second . “Ben said he was going to swing by and check on Molly and the girls.” He murmurs quietly, regret lacing his tone.
“Where is Pope spending Christmas?” It’s not necessary to express more regret over Redfly’s death. Every single one of you have shed your tears over it and you make sure to check in with Molly at least once a week just like you always have. Family that you choose means you choose each other over and over again.
“He’s still in Australia.” Frankie sighs softly. Yovanna has covered her tracks well and he’s still looking for the woman he had fallen in love with.
"Shit..." All you can really do is shake your head at that. Even if Santiago Garcia is on your shit list for inducing the entire team away to South America for weeks, what happened there wasn't really his fault. It sounds like everything that could go wrong did, and the best that you can do is be grateful that Frankie came home to you in one peace.
“Yeah.” He shuffles slightly, rocking the baby as she continues to gnaw on her first and drool all over his shirt. He knows you aren’t happy with what happened, and he’s never been able to tell you all the details.
The tentative expression on his face makes you shake your head, and you turn back to the pan you have on the stove with a sigh. "You'll tell me when you're ready." It's been months and he's still keeping the whole story from you, but you have always been patient. You have always let Frankie come to you. "Let's just not do it on Christmas Eve. Our families are almost here."
“Okay.” He knows you are upset that he won’t talk to you, but he steps closer and leans down to kiss your shoulder. “Thank you for understanding.”
He'll come to you when he's ready. And you're doing your damnedest to be patient. But it's fucking hard when you feel like you're weathering a private storm on the edge of an ocean hell bent on drowning you.
For better or for worse, that is the moment that the doorbell rings.
“It’s showtime.” Frankie mutters, trying to plaster a happy smile on his face and just managing to look constipated.
"Shit, shit." You shove two trays into the oven right away, barely able to check to make sure that everything is assembled correctly but just dying to have it all in the oven. "Okay. That's got to be your parents." Frankie has walked away with the baby, leaving you to quickly wipe down the kitchen and pray you're not smelly from the sweat you worked up preparing dinner.
Frankie opens the door, smiling when he sees his mother and stepfather standing on the porch. “You made it.” He greets them. “Made good time getting here.”
“Of course we did.” Vanessa Morales moved into the house with determination, but the first thing she does is reach for her granddaughter. “Ay, hola Gordita! Eres mucho más bonita que tus fotos.”
Suddenly feeling shy, she pulls back and buries her face in Frankie’s neck. “Está bien, es tu abuela.” He soothes, rubbing her little back. “She’s cutting another tooth.” He explains.
“Pobrecita.” Vanessa coos, not taking the baby’s cue at all. “Come give your abuela a kiss, Gordita. Dame un beso.”
Mira doesn’t like it when someone crowds her face that she’s not familiar with and she immediately starts to cry, clinging to Frankie and trying to get away from her. “Mama.” He huffs, holding her tighter and cooing softly. “Give her a few minutes to warm up to you.”
Vanessa frowns, but relents when her husband agrees with Frankie. Instead, all she says as she’s lead into the house is, “Your sister’s bebes didn’t need time to warm up.”
“Gabriella lives in the same town as you, mama.” He reminds her, rolling his eyes at her miffed reaction. “Mira has seen you twice since she was born.”
“Even so.” His mother huffs, as though it were a personal affront.
“Feliz Navidad, Vanessa.” You come out of the kitchen a second later with your face freshly washed just to give yourself a boost and offer your in-laws a smile. “Hi, Javier. It’s nice to see you both.”
“There’s my favorite daughter-in-law.” Javier might just be a step-parent, but he has always thought that Francisco had chosen the best woman for him, despite what his wife might say. Vanessa is prickly, and while he might find that attractive since he’s a self-confessed asshole, he tries to make you feel accepted when he’s around. He steps around Vanessa to pull you in for a hug.
“Feliz Navidad, Javi.” The extra moment of consideration from your husband’s stepfather is dearly appreciated, and you accept the hug whole-heartedly. “How’s things?”
“Same.” He doesn’t mind slightly offending Frankie, so he kisses your y forehead and leans back to wink at you. He was a ladies man back in the day and still a silver fox, so it’s always fun to raise the hackles of the man he loves like his own son. Just for shits and giggles. “Better now that I’m around three beautiful ladies.” He turns that charming smile on Mira and leans in. “This one most of all.”
He earns a full belly laugh from his granddaughter and you feel yourself breathe just a little easier. Javier in a good mood bodes well for the night. “Can I offer you both something to drink? Vanessa?”
“I don’t suppose you have wine,” Vanessa manages to make it sound vile, to not have wine in the house. “Actually, mom, she picked up a bottle of your favorite sangria.” Frankie pipes up.
“Let me get you a glass.” The atmosphere is already frigid but that’s just how it’s always been between the two of you. Thank God she doesn’t know about the coke or she’d surely find a way to blame you for Frankie’s addiction issues, too. Just like she’s blamed you for everything else she deems wrong with her only son’s life.
“Javi?” Frankie lifts a brow towards his stepfather. “You want a whiskey? I’ve got a bottle in the den.”
“Good man.” Javi commends, and clasps his stepson on the back as they disappear into the other room together.
Vanessa turns towards you expectantly and pulls a tight smile. “When will dinner be ready?” She asks. “Assuming you’ve started cooking, of course.”
It’s too much for how exhausted you are, and even being prepared doesn’t make it okay. Without a buffer, Vanessa aims all of her venom at you endlessly. “It will be ready in an hour. No need to worry.” And the sooner your own parents get here the better �� not that they’re perfect by any means.
“You look tired.” It’s not an observation born out of concern, but criticism. “You should really put a bit of effort in.” She hums. “Fransisco deserves that, doesn’t he?”
Yes. He does. But your husband of six years is also well aware of how much work raising a newborn is. Which is why you just smile and bite back how much his mother's constant nitpicking bothers you. "Your son prefers a natural look," you inform her as politely as you can without snapping. "No make up. So that I always look like myself."
She can’t possibly argue with that, because it would mean insulting her precious baby boy. Instead she just looks around like she’s never seen the place and starts to wander off towards the kitchen.
You’re debating whether or not you need to follow her when the doorbell rings. It’s still a touch too early for your parents to arrive — they shared their location with you so you could track their driving route on your phone from the airport. It should be ten more minutes until they arrive.
“I’ll get it!” You call, wondering if Frankie heard the doorbell in the den, and head back to the front.
“That must be her parents.” Frankie sighs and looks longingly at the bottle of whiskey but he knows he can’t have any. It wouldn’t be fair to you or to Mira.
“Save it for later.” Javi advises. “When your mama’s gone to bed and the baby is down, and you can relax with your wife.” It seems like Frankie is struggling more than he has let on, but there isn’t time to talk about that now. “Go say hi to your in-laws. I can take Mira if she’s okay with it.”
Surprisingly, it doesn’t take much convincing on either man’s part for Mira to go to her abuelo. Immediately little fingers dig into the hair covering his upper lip and Frankie chuckles. “She doesn’t understand why I don’t have facial hair today.” He explains.
“She can play all she wants.” Javi laughs, bouncing the little girl in his arms. “I got her, Frankie. Go on.”
It’s almost jarring to the aloof and broody man he had spent his teenage years around laughing and chortling at a baby, but Frankie smiles at the sight before turning to see about mitigating the next disastrous arrival.
You’re already at the door, half-smiling and half-bewildered as your parents hand off a bag full of wrapped presents to you like a butler and chatter away as they enter.
“It’s good to see you dear.” Your mother hums, “our trip here seemed to take forever.” She opens her mouth to once again suggest that you move back home and Frankie comes in to greet them.
“It isn’t exactly a short flight.” You can acknowledge that, and it’s why your parents don’t visit more often. Your dad isn’t up to that much traveling anymore. “I’m glad we’re able to spend Christmas with you.”
“So are we.” The problem in Frankie’s eyes about his in-laws spending Christmas with you is that they treat the house like a hotel and you like staff for the visit. They don’t Think they should lift a finger for themselves. “Hey, glad you made it.” He gives them a polite smile and nods at your father before holding out his hand to shake it.
“Francisco.” Even after a decade together, your father still refuses to call your husband by his nickname. He shakes Frankie’s hand with unnecessary force, like usual, and grunts with approval. “How’s things?”
“Going well, sir.” Despite the difficulties raising a child, he knows voicing that to your parents would do neither of you any good. “And you?”
“Retirement is boring.” Your father gripes good-naturedly. “Thinking about finding something part tune just to get out of the house and avoid the nagging at home.”
Frankie snorts. “Yeah I could see how that would be a little overwhelming for you.”
"Never stop working, if you can help it." The older man claps Frankie on the shoulder like he's doling out the sagest advice in the world. "She'll be fine with the baby. But the second you're home for more than twenty minutes an extra day? You'll have a Honey Do list longer than your arm."
Frankie doesn’t mind spending time with his daughter and cleaning up around the house that is also his responsibility but he just hums. “That’s some advice.” He makes it sound like he agrees just to keep the peace. You need help with things and his father-in-law’s outlook is a little old fashioned for him.
“You’ll thank me for it,” your father advises, and gives Frankie another friendly-if-condescending pat on the arm before walking away in search of whatever it is he wants but hasn’t asked for yet. Presumably to find his wife, but that’s an assumption.
“Jesus.” Frankie sighs and turns to start taking jackets and bags from you. “I’ll get their bags to their room.” He grins. “Do I get a tip?”
“Does a kiss count?” Just because you’re both exhausted and you haven’t been in the mood for sex doesn’t mean you don’t love your husband or appreciate the things he does to help you.
“The best kind of tip.” He vows, leaning in and stealing a quick kiss before pulling away. You seem to shy away from physical displays when your parents are around. “I’ll be right back.”
“Thank you, honey.” Having him jump on board to help means everything, but you frown a second later. “Where’s the baby? I thought I put her playpen away.”
“She’s with Javier.” He smirks slightly. “Old man apparently still has it with the ladies.”
"Well, that's something, at least." Something that his mother is going to hate – that the baby hid from her and went straight to her abuelo instead. "I'm going to pour drinks for people and get the shrimp cocktail out of the fridge so everybody can focus on food instead of bickering."
“I’ll be there as quickly as I can dump these in their room.” He promises, you having already determined which room your parents are staying in.
But as fast as Frankie can move in spite of his bad back, it isn’t fast enough. By the time you walk into the kitchen you find all four of your collective parents staring at each other like it’s a stand off at the O.K. Corral.
“How about a little appetizer?” You ask, after a few seconds of trying to read the room and finding the stony silence completely impenetrable. The only thing you care about is keeping them reasonably civil and having your little girl back in your arms. “Thanks for hanging on to her, Javier.” You offer him a smile when you take her back.
“Oh that’s no problem at all.” Mira giggles at him and leans in to cuddle against his chest, making him smile proudly. “Nothing I wouldn’t do for this little beauty.”
“You wanna stay with abuelo, sweetheart? You go right ahead.” It leaves your hands free, and you’re grateful to have that for a few more moments. So instead of extracting your baby girl from her grandparent, you kiss her curls and cross to the refrigerator to retrieve the tray of shrimp cocktail you put together this morning. “Can I get anyone a drink? Or a refill?”
“Since we are already starting with the alcohol, I would like some wine.” Your mother eyes the glass of whatever is in Vanessa’s hand and tuts slightly. “White of course, red wines are too heavy for me.”
This is what holidays are. What family gatherings are. What they always are and why you dread them so much. Conversation can never seem to be civil, no one ever offers to help. Frankie is always putting out proverbial fires with all four parents while you work to be the perfect hostess but it’s never even enough to keep the peace. Everyone leaves feeling worse than when they came and yet they still insist on seeing the two of you. It’s enough to make you want to flee the scene, but you would never give your mother-in-law the satisfaction of seeing you run scared. It would only cement her low opinion of you.
So you pour drinks and serve appetizers, plastering the smile on your face and eventually taking Mirabel back from Javier just for utter relief of having your daughter back in your arms. By the time Frankie comes back downstairs, the doorbell rings again. Oh god, is all you can think, because you’re not expecting anyone else. What fresh hell is this?
Frankie frowns slightly, exchanging a confused look with you. “I’ll get it.” He promises, slightly caught off guard and wary by the unexpected arrival of someone else. Not that a fucking drug cartel would ring the doorbell. A firebomb through the window would be more their style.
The impatient chimes ring twice more before Frankie makes it across the house, not because it takes long but because of the insistent person on the other side. If your mother wasn’t already inside you would have guessed it was her without hesitation.
“Coming!” The friendly tone that Frankie adopts does stop him from reaching into the entry way dresser and pulling out the snub nosed .38 he keeps in there for just this occasion. He tucks it into the back of his pants before opening the door to find that it’s not necessary. “Benny!”
“Hey man.” Benny is grinning from ear to ear when he leans in the doorway to embrace his friend, slapping Frankie on the back in the process. “Sorry to drop in, but did you get Pope’s text?”
“Haven’t had time to look at my phone.” He hugs Ben Miller back just as hard as the bastard tries to squeeze him after the back slapping. “Everything okay?” He asks that quietly, since you have company and you don’t know about what happened in South America.
“Yeah.” Benny nods like a bobble head, immediately ready to reassure his friend. His brother. “He’s back. Brought Yovanna with him. He was texting around for a ride and a place to crash.”
“Holy shit, he found her.” He had his private doubts about tracking the lover he had sent to Australia down, but he’s happy for Pope. “And you decided to play Uber.”
Benny grins, wide and unapologetic, before standing aside with a flourish. “Special delivery!”
The shorter man grins but he doesn’t rush to embrace Frankie. A little unsure of how he will be greeted, but Frankie bursts out laughing “Cabron!” He huffs, lunging forward and wrapping his arms around his brother in arms.
“Feo.” Pope returns the hug easily, not caring that he holds his best friend a moment longer these days than he might have before. Shit’s changed, after all. “You remember Yovanna?” He knows that everything about that trip is burned into Frankie’s brain just like the other guys, but it seems the polite way to go about reintroducing them.
She seems nervous, hesitant. He knows that Pope had to have told her what happened to Tom. "Sure." He nods and flashes her a smile before he moves out of the doorway. "Come in. Please."
"Lotta cars here..." Pope observes, though 'a lot' is only two besides the cars that are supposed to be here.
"We'll see you guys tomorrow." Benny waves as he jogs back to his truck. Everybody is with family today and that includes him, because Will is the only member of this damn group that can cook worth a damn somewhere other than a grill.
“Thanks Ben!” He knows that Mira can sleep in the bassinet in your bedroom and he can pull down the Murphy Bed you both had decided to keep in there for those late, rough nights with the baby. “Take your shit up to the bedroom next to mine.” He tells him with a smirk. “I’ll let my mother know you are here.”
"Nessa's here?" Pope brightens measurably as he whisks Yovanna into the house. "Christmas with the fam, man. I'm telling you. This is going to be great."
He snorts as he closes the door. Hopefully this won’t make you feel even more overwhelmed than you already have been.
"Frankie!" You call from the kitchen, and he can hear shuffling chairs and footsteps. "Who is it, honey?"
“Well, uh—”
“Hoooooooney, I’m hooooome.” In typical, dramatic fashion, Pope swoops into the room with a broad grin, although he’s not directing it at you since you might actually hit him for that shit earlier this year. Instead, he aims that charm at Vanessa. “I heard the most beautiful lady this side of the border was here and I had to come.”
"Aye, Santiago mijo!" After a lifetime of being best friends with her only son, Vanessa looked at Santiago Garcia as being the baby boy she never had. She disregards everything else in the room to go and hug him, but for a single moment you're actually grateful for that. It gives you the time you need to catch your breath after your heart stops at the sight of your husband's best friend. The one who supposedly was still in Australia.
“There she is!” Pope shoots you a quick glance and an even quicker wink before he is folding Frankie’s mom into a tight hug. He knows that you and your mother-in-law don’t get along, and hopefully you won’t kick him out on his ass in exchange for distracting her from harassing you.
Immediately, Vanessa is fawning over Santi instead of picking on the fact that you haven’t dressed your baby girl specifically in pink. It’s so much of a relief to see him alive and well in your kitchen that you barely register anything else — and it takes you a second before you register the gorgeous woman standing anxiously in the doorway. Mira tucks her little face against your shoulder at the sight of a stranger, but you just at your daughter’s back and gently step closer. “You must be Yovanna?”
"Sí, I mean, yes." She knows that you and Frankie speak Spanish, but she also knows that she's in the United States, so practicing speaking English is necessary. Her eyes flicker between you and Frankie before she nods. "You must be the wife that is the best thing that ever happened to Francisco." After Pope had found her again, he had started telling her everything that he couldn't before. The flight from Australia filled with stories and names. "You're not Molly, right?" She asks, embarrassed that your name isn't quite coming to her. "That was the rude one's wife."
You tell her your name and disregard the comment about Tom because it’s accurate. You and Redfly never got along but you do try to respect the dead, so you won’t badmouth him now. “We’ll introduce you to Molly tomorrow, if you and Santi are going to be around. We always do a post-holiday thing with the team.”
"I think we are going to find a house?" She admits, shrugging slightly because she doesn't really mind where she is. As long as her brother is safe and she gets to be with Santiago. "That is what he was talking about."
“I’m glad to hear it.” To have him nearby and settled will do wonders for Frankie. He’s missed Pope and missed having his lifelong best friend close at hand. As much as you love each other and as much as you will always work to keep each other supported and happy, there is a part of him that isn’t quite full or right without Pope around. It’s the same way you feel about your own best friend. “Well, um…” Taking a second to grin at your bashful daughter, you turn slightly so the baby can see Yovanna over your shoulder. “This is Mirabel. She’s princess of the palace, and just…welcome. Merry Christmas. Dinner is in the oven and there’s plenty to drink.”
"I am sorry for intruding." She offers, smiling at the baby. "I hope it is not too much?"
“The team is family.” And sometimes family can be exhausting. Sometimes family can be troublesome. But family means doing the work. Which is exactly why you didn’t tell your parents to get stuffed over hosting this Christmas even though you’re exhausted and overwhelmed. “At the holidays, family is always welcome,” you tell her with certainty.
"He did not know how you would accept him." She admits softly, happy that he had been wrong about you being put off by him bringing your husband into the mess he had. "But it is good you have not had any problems since Lorea was killed."
“We haven’t,” you assure her quietly. “It’s the secret that we keep to make sure the boys are safe, and thankfully we have been safe.” For Santi? You can only shake your head and shrug while you bounce Mira in your arms. “I’ve over being upset with him, though it did take a while. Now? I’m just glad you’re both safe. That my husband came home to me. And that he won’t be doing anything like that ever again.”
“I understand.” She agrees. “It was stupid for them, for me. But at least they are home safe now.”
“Our families don’t know anything about it,” you tell her, not admitting for the moment that all you know is the name Lorea and that people had died. Two facts which Frankie had only told you so you could gauge your own safety if you were ever approached by someone who claimed to know him or know about what happened on that mission. You hadn’t asked more and he hadn’t offered, and since you had still been upset with him for going at all, it had never been brought up again.
Yovanna tilts her head in curiosity but she doesn’t comment on it. It’s very obvious that you don’t know the details and she doesn’t think that it’s her place to tell you about it. “Is there anything I can do to help?” She asks. “Since we are showing up unannounced.”
“Get settled and help yourself to a drink or an appetizer,” you offer, motioning to the small table on the other side of the kitchen counter. It’s where you and Frankie usually eat, especially with it being easy for placing Mira’s high chair, but tonight dinner will be served in the formal dining room. Which makes the little kitchen table a perfect apps-and-drinks table. “Welcome.” There will be plenty to talk about. More than plenty. But right now you refocus your attention. It’s time to give Mira a bottle and set her down for a nap, which will hopefully mean that she sleeps through the setting of the table and even the eating of dinner.
Everyone has been chatting, or at least Santiago has been distracting his mother while your father and Javi chat amiably. Your mother is fusing with something, one of the sides you had already prepared. Tasting it and adding something to it. He wants to stop her, but then he will just be told he doesn’t know what he’s doing in the kitchen, so he decides to not fight that battle today.
"I'm going to feed Mira," you tell Frankie as you slip past him in the kitchen. It will be a much-needed moment of relative quiet and you aren't going to pass it up. "I'll just go upstairs so I can feed her and put her down without fussing with a bottle. Is that okay?"
“You do that, babe.” He reaches out and squeezes your shoulder supportively. “I’ll try to keep everyone from killing each other.” It’s a large task, but hopefully he will be able to do it.
"Santi can help." It's not a suggestion that will take much pressing. Your quiet, introspective husband's best friend is a magnet for attention even without trying. "I'll be back down in a little bit. If you need me sooner, I have my phone on me. Just send an SOS text."
"I won't need it." He promises foolishly, unaware that the mothers will start in on him individually just as soon as he walks back into the kitchen.
"Good luck," you hum under your breath, before whisking your daughter off up the stairs.
"Francisco, be a dear and run this upstairs." Your mother's purse, one that she had earlier insisted that she needed to keep on her, now needs to be put in her room. She waggles the bag at him impatiently when he doesn't immediately jump to take it.
"She can do that, can't she?" Vanessa looks around, not even using your name to refer to you, and frowns after a moment. "Where did she go, Frankie? She should be taking care of her guests."
"She's feeding Mira, mama." He explains. "You remember what it's like to have a hungry, tired baby." He frowns slightly at her and takes the purse. "I'll take it upstairs, it's not a problem."
"So she took her away to feed her?" Vanessa clutches the pearls she isn't wearing. "One of us could have easily given her a bottle! She's teaching our granddaughter to hate us right away. Pobrecita Mirabel."
"She's breastfeeding." He huffs out. "Plus, she's putting her to bed."
"We're mothers too." To Frankie's surprise, your own mother chimes in, in support of Vanessa's viewpoint. "We can give a bottle just as easily as anyone else."
The look that your father shoots Frankie is apologetic at best but he says nothing, only drinks from his glass and turns to say something to Santiago, whom he vaguely remembers from your wedding. It's just about the least helpful atmosphere in the world but at least he isn't adding to the fire.
He shakes his head and doesn’t point out the glaringly obvious fact that if you are sticking your boob in his daughter’s mouth, then they couldn’t just as easily fed her, but it’s not worth the argument. Instead he turns around and hustles upstairs to deposit the bag at the foot of their guest bedroom.
It isn't exactly an ideal day. For anyone, it seems. But the only way out is through so he heads right back downstairs again once that is taken care of. When he comes back to the kitchen it's your father at the stove that catches his eye this time, but again Frankie doesn't say anything on that point. There's no use rocking the boat. Not now that his stepfather has most of the room entertained with a work story and no one is complaining at the moment.
"Oh damn." Your mother huffs, waggling the bottle. " We are out of wine." She raises her eyebrows at Frankie. "Will you be a dear and get another?"
"Is there another?" His mother asks, as if it was necessary to make the request any more irritating.
"Of course, mama." The implication that you didn't prepare well for today doesn't sit well with him, and Frankie heads straight out to the garage to get more of the wine that had been specifically bought for today.
You had bought an entire case. The sight of it makes Frankie smirk with pride. "That's my girl." He hums as he grabs another bottle. Hopefully this means that both mothers will get drunk enough that they won't be able to nitpick you.
It's a hope, as in vain as it might be, and when Frankie goes back into the house he finds things much as he left them. He refills both mothers' wine glasses and then ends up fetching the scotch from the den again for the fathers. It's constant back and forth, not able to sit and talk to Pope or to Yovanna, or even remember where he puts his own drink while he makes sure everyone else is settled.
"Goddamn." He mutters to himself. It's almost as if it's coordinated. Like a family who keeps a server running for their table by requesting something new every time they come back.
And it stays that way until the second you come back downstairs, baby monitor in hand, and sniff the air with a growing look of horror and panic on your face. "Shit. Shit!" You race to the oven with tears already stinging your eyes to find smoke and the smell of burning food coming from your finnicky, ill-behaved oven.
“What?” Frankie rushes back from den where he had been sent to dig out the bottle of bitters after Javi offered to make his father-in-law the best old fashioned he had ever drank. The bottle had been pushed to very back of the cabinet where the liquor was locked up and he had been half convinced it had been thrown out. “What’s wrong?”
"This!" When you drop the oven door open, a cartoonish cloud of smoke billows out. The once gorgeous-looking beef Wellington that you took such tender care to assemble is blackened beyong recognition when you pull the pan out and let it drop onto the stove top like a brick.
It's ruined. Completely and entirely. And you can feel your mother-in-law watching you while she picks out her preferred insult.
“Shit.” Frankie knows how much you have been anticipating this dinner. You hadn’t specifically said to look in on the damn thing but he feels guilty. “Babe, I’m so sorry.”
"I don't know how—" With your shoulders hunched and tears making your voice wobble, you pull the other pan out of the oven to find that the potatoes are scorched as well. Half of dinner is completely ruined. "I've made this a dozen times before!" Sure your oven isn't the best, but replacing it is expensive and you have just learned to live with how it cooks. But nothing like this has ever happened before. "How? How did this happen?"
“Well, you had the oven set to low.” Your mother offers and Vanessa nods. “You cannot possibly cook your little beef thing when it is set so low.” Your mother-in-law adds most helpfully. “I noticed it and asked your mother, so we turned it up for you. I’m sure that you are just too overwhelmed with things to have noticed.”
“It was set low on purpose.” You turn again, this time look at the temperature setting on the oven, and feel yourself deflate when the digital read out says 425F. “Our oven runs hot,” you explain to them, so upset that you’re physically shaking while tears stain your cheeks. They push in and they treat you like shit and then they ruin things and yet they’re still acting like you’re the one who is incompetent. “If you had just asked, I would have told you why it was set low. You’ve essentially set my oven to over 500 degrees and burnt half of dinner because you didn’t think i knew what I was doing.”
“How was I supposed to know?” Your mother gives you a bewildered hurt expression and covers her heart like you are attacking her. Frankie moves over to you and sighs softly as he sees the burnt remnants of the meal you had worked so hard on. “Why have you bought a new oven?” She demands. “Your husband is a pilot. He should be taking care of these things.”
“You should have asked, Mom.” But of course she didn’t. Your mother is the queen of that ‘Mother Knows Best’ attitude and has never admired to being wrong in your whole life. “Being a pilot doesn’t make him a millionaire, and we’ve got the baby. Life is expensive right now. We’ve been saving up like reasonable people.”
Vanessa bristles at the implication that there is something lacking in her baby boy but Santiago sees that as well and quickly steps in to distract her. “It’s being taken care of.” He assures your mother but she huffs and shakes her head. Which makes Vanessa snap her head to the side. “Don’t you dare think ill about Francisco.” She hisses. “He works all the time to make sure your daughter stays home. He’s working himself to death.” Frankie rolls his eyes. “Mama. Stop.” He ordered, feeling like this is getting out of hand. “It’s true. You don’t think I know you called Javi to borrow money?” She demands.
"I work from home, Vanessa. I don't sit around on my ass all day doing nothing!" True that you took your maximum maternity leave, but you had damn well needed it. Postpartum healing took its toll and the depression that went with it had hit you hard. And after Frankie had come back with so many secrets? Well, it's not as if your home life is all sunshine and roses right now.
"Then why does—"
"It doesn't matter why, Mom. It's only our business." None of them need to know about what happened with Frankie's license or anything else. It's not as though they have ever offered to help or support you before so you're not about to share your troubles with them now.
“But—”
“ENOUGH!” Frankie nearly bellows the order, making your mother jump and snap her mouth shut, eyes wide in near fear. Your father looks down at his glass guiltily and even his own mother gasps as she presses a hand to her chest. Only Javi looks somewhat amused by the entire thing, a small smirk of approval twisting his lips. “I don’t give a damn that you drove for hours or flew here to see us for Christmas.” He seethes. “This is our house and I am not going to put up with you mistreating my wife.” His eyes narrow as he turns towards his mother and then towards his mother-in-law. “Either one of you. You don’t like it? Leave.” His tone is stony and flat, leaving no room for argument.
Pope and Yovanna are dead silent in the corner, not willing to meddle in family drama when they've only just arrived, and three of the four parents exchange appalled looks.
"We didn't raise you to be so disrespectful." Your mother snaps, standing from her chair with steam practically pouring out of her ears. "Or to be a terrible cook. Go get our things. We're going to a hotel until you come to your senses."
“Go get them your goddamn self.” Frankie snaps back. “And you aren’t welcomed back until you apologize to her.” That’s one set of parents he’s pissed of completely, so he turns to his mom. “Mama? You gonna be nice or is it gonna be more passive aggressive bullshit comments? Because if it is, you can get the fuck out too.”
"I have never made a passive aggressive comment about--" she begins, but Javier actually laughs at her pious pearl clutching.
"Nessa, that's all you've said to your poor daughter-in-law for years." He tells her bluntly. "Come on. I'll get our stuff." Vanessa looks absolutely appalled, but Javier just shrugs. "Prove me wrong," he insists. "Apologize."
Frankie waits, brows raised and he actually hopes for a moment that his mother will apologize. Her mouth opens and she starts talking, making his heart sink.
“She should—”
“Nope.” He cuts her off, a disappointed look on his face. “I should have put my foot down years ago. That’s my fault. Until you apologize to her, and mean it, you aren’t welcomed in our lives.” He tells her, even though it breaks his heart. “You’re my mother and I love you. But this is my wife. The woman I vowed to spend the rest of my life with. The woman I love. You would have never put up with the kind of shit you give her out of Javi’s dad.” He reminds her. “And I’m done having her cry when you leave.” He nods towards the door. “Merry Christmas. Now I’d like you to leave.”
The stone-silent kitchen is a staring contest for long moments while Frankie’s mother realizes that her son is actually giving her an ultimatum. With a dramatic huff, she pushes out of her seat and storms to the door, shouting something about how his sister would never treat her like this. She shouts so loud that the sound of the baby crying bleeds through the baby monitor and cuts down the stairwell, but when you let out your own wretched, exhausted sob, Frankie stops you.
“I’ve got her.” He promises, reaching out and holding onto your shoulders. “I want you to pour yourself a big glass of wine and go upstairs and get into a bath.” He knows how much you love to soak in the tub, but you haven’t had much of a chance to do that since Mirabel was born. “I’ll take care of everything.”
"I have to figure out what the hell to make for dinner," you insist, intermittently glancing back between Pope and Yovanna, and toward the stairs where your baby girl is screaming.
“I’ll handle it.” Frankie implores, lifting his brows. “Trust me, baby. Go upstairs. I’ve got this.”
"I'm so sorry." The entire day has collapsed and it feels like it's your fault. Despite the fact that you were actively sabotaged and abused for the last hour – only an hour! – it still feels like you failed.
“It’s not your fault.” This comes from Javier, sighing softly as he glances at the two of you. Your mother and father are still upstairs, rummaging around after leaving the kitchen quietly in the face of Frankie’s ultimatum. “Don’t be sorry. Let your husband take care of you.” He looks at his step-son. “I’ll read her the riot act.” He promises.
"You're the only one I wish could stay," you admit to your father-in-law with a deflated shrug, but lean into your husband's side for a moment and just breathe Frankie in. "Okay. I'm going to have a wine bath. Whatever else we end up doing for dinner, there's a huge salad in the refrigerator and a tray of Christmas cookies in the pantry."
“Okay.” He kisses the top of your head before he pulls away to grab the monitor. “Big glass of wine.” He reminds you before he looks over at Pope and Yovanna. “You two good?”
"We're good." Pope nods, but he's already out of his chair and moving to wash his hands. Even after being gone for a few years, he still knows this house and these people as well as anything else in the world. "Go take care of your baby girl. We'll be ready to help when you get back."
“Thanks man.” He nods towards Javi and then rushes out of the room. “Daddy’s coming, Mira.” He calls out. “It’s okay.”
"It's...not usually like this." It's the best you can do to reassure Yovanna when you come out of the pantry again with a bottle of your preferred white wine and a large glass. That bottled sangria that Vanessa likes is garbage, no matter what she pretends.
“It is okay.” She promises. “Family can be difficult.” She smiles, knowing how often her brother puts her in hard situations.
"I'll...be back in a little bit." The idea of a glass of wine in a bath is basically unheard of in your life now and it's something you used to do at least once a week. The chance to relax and feel like you get to start the day over again is incredibly welcome.
"Take your time, hermana." Pope insists. "Take the bottle with you, if you want. We've got this."
With Mira, Frankie has her up on his shoulder, rocking her soothingly. “It’s okay. Shhhhhhh shhhhhhh.” He shushes softly, angry at his mother for not caring about waking his daughter up. She hiccups and starts to quiet down, not needing a bottle or a diaper, just some comfort. “It’s gonna be alright.” He promises, to both her and himself.
He can hear you in the hallway, light steps on the way to the master bathroom so that you don’t make more noise and disturb Mirabel any more than she already is.
It doesn’t take long for her to fall back asleep, although he spends precious minutes carefully laying her back down and making sure she stays asleep. Smiling softly when she shoves her thumb in her mouth as she sleeps. He creeps out of the room and back downstairs as he hears the water start to run from the master en-suite.
“Okay.” Pope is standing in the kitchen with a tied off trash bag sitting near the garage door and the two pans formerly full of burned food now scraped out and refilled with steaming, soapy water. “What’s the plan?” He asks, nodding to Yovanna beside him. “What can we do to help?”
“I’ve got some steaks in the freezer.” It’ll only take twenty minutes to thaw them. “If you want to go fire up the grill, I’ll pull them out.”
"Heard that." Thankfully the stunning Florida weather guarantees a warm Christmas with perfect grilling weather, and Pope heads outside immediately. He can have that grilled fired up and ready in no time.
"I can help, too." Yovanna insists. She would feel awful to not help out under any circumstances, but especially now. "Anything, Francisco. I'm happy to."
“There’s salad, but I know there’s also a carton of mushrooms.” Frankie explains. “Will you slice them and an onion to sauté?” He asks. “She loves onions and mushrooms on her steak.”
"Absolutely." A relatively small task that will make all the difference to someone who is having a hard day? She is more than happy to do what he asks. The three of them set to work immediately and within half an hour the smell of burnt pastry and potatoes is replaced with grill smoke and sauteed aromatics.
You come downstairs in clean, comfortable clothes with a glass of wine in your system, smelling like a bath bomb and looking like you're just starting a brand new day. When Yovanna is in the kitchen with a sautee pan instead of Frankie or Pope, you have to sit with your embarrassment for a moment.
"I'm sorry for...before. That wasn't the first impression that I wanted to make."
“The men are outside.” She tells you with a smile. “The salad looks gorgeous but Francisco said you like onions and mushrooms on your steak.” She explains. “And do not worry. I am just happy that you look more relaxed now.”
"Much." You huff out a laugh, feeling sheepish about the whole thing. "Families at the holidays..."
"Are always pretending to get along?" She laughs. "It is the same everywhere."
"Well...thank you, again." If you knew her better you might go so far as to give her the giant hug of gratitude that you would like to, but that will keep for later in the day. For now the two of you exchange knowing smiles about how ridiculous families can be and you go out the sliding door to the patio where Frankie and Santi are standing at the grill inspecting the image of your sleeping daughter on the baby monitor.
“I’m telling you man, she’s gonna be a problem when she gets older.” Pope huffs. “We need to start scaring away the boys now.”
"What if she grows up to like girls?" Of course they're already in protective mode. That doesn't surprise you in the least. "Or maybe she won't want romance at all. Anything is possible."
“Yeah but the boys can get her pregnant.” He points out, lifting a brow at Frankie’s immediate frown. “Well that’s not happening since she’s going to stay a virgin.” The overly protective father scoffs.
"She's going to be educated on her body and consent, and she's going to have the unwavering support of her parents," you correct them both. But there is still a soft smile on your face when you tuck yourself under Frankie's arm. "And if all else fails, she has Uncle Pope, Uncle Ironhead, and Uncle Benny to scare off anyone who doesn't respect her."
“What about me?” Frankie huffs as he settles his arm at your waist and hauls you closer. You look relaxed, and he’s glad. “How are you feeling, baby?” He asks.
"A little better. Pretty stupid, but better." When you lean into his chest he presses a kiss to your hair and you sigh. "Think our mothers are ever actually going to apologize?"
“If they don’t, we will have peace.” His eyes slip closed and he smiles slightly. “The dream.” He jokes before he opens his eye and looks at you seriously. “They will eventually. When they realize we are serious.”
"No contact with all of our parents except Javier." Another huffed laugh from you ends in a sigh. "Merry Christmas, I guess. Is it bad that I feel relieved?"
“We are having Christmas ribeye’s, with that salad you made, you can have your onions and mushrooms, and I know you have those rolls in there.” He grins. “Washed down with your wine and Christmas cookies.”
"Well...Mira is having a bottle the rest of the day anyway. No reason not to enjoy." With your arms around his waist, you tug Frankie tighter and practically shudder with that sigh of relief that rocks out of you. "Thank you, baby. I know neither of us ever wanted it to come to that with our parents, but thank you for stepping in. And for taking care of things afterward."
“Of course.” He knows that your trust and faith in him has been shaken by the drug charges and then disappearing to South America, but he wants to rebuild it. “Anytime, baby. I love you.”
“I love you too.” That, thankfully, was never in doubt.
******
A year passes with so much incident that it is a task of its own to decide where to start when someone asks you 'what's been going on?'. Planning the next Christmas is easier simply because of logistics. Hosting doesn't feel daunting when the people who are coming to the house are supportive, helpful, and kind.
Dinner is a potluck this year, with all the boys from Frankie's unit bringing their partners. Even Benny has a girlfriend – one who promises she's capable of bringing more to a potluck than jarred salsa and bagged chips – and Frankie is once again going to grill ribeyes. New traditions are falling into place, but the fact is that you're actually looking forward to things this year instead of dreading them.
“Babe.” Frankie ducks into the kitchen to admire the new oven that he had delivered six months ago. “Do you want to do that mashed potato casserole you were talking about or do you want to do baked potatoes this year?”
"Why don't we do baked potatoes and we can put out a bar of toppings and stuff? I can throw some bacon in a pan and chop some scallions." Things are better. You're talking more. You're listening to each other and asking questions instead of assuming. Frankie even comes home early from work once every other week to look after Mira while you have therapy. It's helped your postpartum depression immensely.
“That sounds good.” He agrees, grinning at you. “Pope and Yovanna are going to bring the salad this time. She loves that dressing recipe you gave her.”
"It's a good one." Yovanna has fast become a close friend, joining the sisterhood you have with Teresa, and now with Benny's girlfriend Roseanne. "Everybody should be here pretty soon. I figured there was no use in pretending this is formal. We're all perfectly happy to sit around together and hang out."
“Have you heard anything?” He asks softly, aware that you might have some feelings about everything that went down last year.
"Only from Javier." Frankie's stepfather was the only one who had been in contact, and even that was respectfully sparse. "I've sent him some photos of Mira and he texted this morning to say Merry Christmas and that he hoped the package he sent got here in time."
Even though you have been remarkable about the silence, Frankie steps closer and folds you into his arms for a reassuring hug. “It’ll all work out, baby.” He promises. “I just love seeing you excited for Christmas.”
“It’s easier to be excited when I’m not dreading the arguments and insults.” You lean into him a little tighter and sigh. It’s shit that things had to blow up the way they did last year, but things are better now. You’re both happier. The boys are all back together and Pope had proposed to Yovanna at Thanksgiving. Will and Teresa are ecstatic about expecting their first kid together. Things are good. “I love you, baby. So much.”
“I love you too.” He murmurs softly, kissing your forehead. He had told you everything that had happened and while you were unhappy about it, you hadn’t held it against him. That’s the best gift he could have ever asked for. “Merry Christmas, baby.”
------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer
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darthannie · 1 year ago
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potential side effects
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pairing: Jonathan Crane x f!reader summary: After giving you an experimental medication, Dr. Crane helps you get over your fear of intimacy.  word count: 2,143 warnings: 18+, minors DNI for the love of god, DARK, rough at points, I’m gonna go ahead and say NONCON, au where Dr. Crane has a private practice, abuse of power, reader is under the influence (kinda like the fear toxin), reader is sleepy, Crane doesn't take no for an answer, dacryphilia, inexperienced!reader, floor sex, spit, fighting back, a smidge of aftercare at the end. a/n: Please do not read if you’re not into what's in the warnings. I had fun experimenting with this one. I tried to be a little more thorough in the warnings. Better safe than sorry. I’m still toying around with Jonathan’s voice. Let me know if you want more of this kind of thing, or something different. I’d love to interact with you guys more!
Dr. Jonathan Crane had been treating you for the better part of a year and was in the midst of creating a new medication regimen for you. Your previous treatment plan was not working as intended, so it was back to the drawing board.
He selected you as the first person to receive an experimental medication. It was meant to be inhaled and doses were to be given during the time of the appointment. You didn’t necessarily know what to expect. He’d briefly mentioned that there may be potential side effects but didn’t go into much detail. 
You were nervous the first time you’d gone in to receive a dose. As you approached the door to his office you felt a lump begin to form in your throat. You knocked and after a moment he opened the door. Jonathan always wore the same thing most of the time. Today he donned a black blazer and slacks with a white button-up. His red tie was placed right at the center of his collar. His dark hair framed his face perfectly. He looks good today, you thought, better than usual. 
You exchanged your normal pleasantries and sat across from him on a couch. His office was spacious and dark. All the furniture was made of wood. In the corner, there was a big bookcase that consisted of books on fear, pharmacology, and different editions of the DSM. The DSM-4 was missing from the shelf, presumably on his desk. 
The room brought you a lot of comfort. It was the only place you ever got to see him. It felt like Dr. Crane was the only person in all of Gotham that understood you. It was his job after all. 
Soon the time came for him to administer the medication. 
“I’m going to spray in front of your face and you’re going to breathe in. It doesn’t take much to be effective.”, he said. 
You nodded and he sprayed. 
Your nerves subsided almost immediately and your mind became quiet.
“Any difference?”, he asked. 
“My mind is silent. All my racing thoughts have stopped.” 
“Good. That means it’s working. Some of the other side effects may begin to set in now.” 
He was right. Like clockwork, you started to get drowsy. It was like someone had given you a little too much Benadryl. It was hard to keep your eyes open. 
“Dr. Crane? Is this normal?” You couldn’t help but drag the ’s’. 
“It’s nothing to worry about. It’s just the medication working. How do you feel?” He seemed a tad on edge as he awaited your answer. 
“I feel all warm inside.” 
He then leaned back against his desk. “Any drowsiness?”
“Lots of it.” You chuckled slightly.
“That is normal.” He said, answering your question. “The medication was likely to make you feel tired.”
“Does it go away?”
“As your body builds up a tolerance, the effects will lessen. Now, I wanted to talk about the recent screenings you filled out. I would like you to check over them and rate their accuracy on a scale from one to five, five being very accurate.” 
He handed you a piece of paper and you looked it over. “Four.”
“Why not five?” His eyebrows furrowed. 
“Number six. ’S worse.” Question number six pertained to your interest in sex. More specifically how terrified you were of having it. 
It was a topic you were working on with Dr. Crane since it impacted your life so much. You were hesitant to mention it at first, but he assured you it was better to talk about it instead of holding it in. So, you spilled every detail. This included your inability to get yourself off and failed hook-up attempts.
You’d try very hard but when it came time for you to do the deed you shut down and found a way out of the situation. You hadn’t been getting out there much because, frankly, the thought of being intimate with someone was frightening. You didn’t know how you’d ever get over it. 
“Have you sought out any partners to help with your fears?”, he asked.
You took a moment to process what he said. “No, I haven’t. I can’t. It’s too-“
“Frightening, yes I remember you using that word.” He removed his glasses before continuing. “I think there’s a way I can help you with that. Personally.”
You yawned. “What do you mean by that doctor?” 
“I can make you feel better.” He looked down at you and brushed your cheek with the back of his hand. 
“How do you mean?” You could hear the apprehension in your voice. He ignored your question and reached down to the hem of your top, lifting it slightly. 
You pulled back a little too quickly and you got a bit dizzy. “I don’t know about that Dr. Crane. I can’t- I’m not well.”
He ignored you. “I think it’ll be easier if I just take you here on the floor.” 
He dragged you off the couch and onto the ground, sitting up. The hardwood was cold to the touch but started to warm under your body. He kneeled next to you. You tried to fight him as he reached for your sweater. He grabbed your wrists to stop you from thrashing around. 
“I would hate to have to tie you up, sweetheart.” You knew he would follow through so you did what he wanted. You stopped fighting back.
He neatly folded and put aside each article of clothing he took off your body. Eventually, you were completely bare in front of him. You were almost too gone to grasp what was going on. Almost. The fear began to creep in and he could tell. Maybe the medication was not working the way he intended it to. Maybe he lied about what it was intended to do. 
You slurred, “Dr. Crane, please don’t- Please don’t do this.” 
He leaned over you and you tried to push him away. He only offered a small smile and reached his hand down between your legs. You whimpered as his fingers moved lightly over your clit. You mewled at the new sensation. You gave in to the feeling and your eyes started to close. When they wouldn’t open again Jonathan lightly slapped your cheek. 
“No, no, no don’t fall asleep. I need you to stay awake for me.”, he said. 
You fought the exhaustion and watched as he used his fingers to tease you. 
He noticed you getting wetter and moved his fingers down to your entrance. He slowly stretched you with two fingers, watching your face as your mouth fell open. 
A tight-lipped smile appeared on his face. He started slow and then moved his fingers in and out very quickly, hitting a new spot until he found the one that made your legs shake. You lied back and let him work on you. All you felt was bliss. No one had ever touched you like that. 
He took his hand away and you whined. This was a first and you were glad you made it this far. This was a win. 
You thought it was over, but then you noticed him unbuttoning his pants. 
Your breath quickened and you put your hand out. “Wait! Please, no! I think I’ve had enough for today.” 
“We’re not done with your treatment yet, princess. Please hold still. It will be easier for the both of us.” 
Your body was made of putty. The side effects had gotten worse. He brought your legs into position before grabbing himself in his hand. He stroked his cock a couple of times before entering you. 
He gave you no time to adjust. His pace was slow but he fucked hard. You gasped at the feeling of him inside you. You’ve never been fucked like this before. But, that didn’t matter to him. All he wanted was to feel you around him. Make you his. 
The sounds in the room sent you reeling. You didn’t know you would moan so much. The sound of his skin hitting yours filled the room along with his heavy breaths and moans. He grabbed your hips as he thrust hard and fast. You were having a hard time coping with all the feelings you were having at once. The fear, exhaustion, and pleasure were beginning to mix. You wanted to scream. Instead, you cried. 
Jonathan moaned at the sight. He loved watching you cry. He’d seen it happen during sessions and couldn’t help but wonder what it would look like if you moaned while you cried. Now he knew. You were unable to keep quiet. Silent cries became sobs which became whimpers. 
He caressed your tear-stained face, “Shhhhhh, hush now it’s alright. You’re doing so well.”
You tried to talk through your tears. “Please Jonathan- Dr. Crane, Make it stop!”
This time he went deeper. You yelped as you felt him hit a new part of you. “I’m not stopping until you tell me it feels good. Tell me, does it feel good?”
“Yes,” you moaned, “it feels good.” 
“Yeah? Are you still frightened? Are you scared of me?”
“Yes.”, you admitted. It was hard for you to get out. How could you ever fear him? All he had ever done was help you. This was just another one of his unorthodox methods. 
He bent forward and put his arms next to your ears, locking his fingers on the top of your head to hold you in place. Your body was limp as he continued fucking you into the floor. Your eyes closed; you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 
He shook your head slightly. “No, eyes on me. Look at me.” 
You looked at him wide-eyed. 
“Open your mouth.” You obeyed and he spit in your mouth. In all honesty, you savored the taste. It was another way of him claiming you. 
“Swallow.” When you did he hummed contently. “Good girl.” 
You felt something weird tightening in your core. “Dr. Crane. I feel like I’m gonna-“. 
A long moan came out before you could finish your sentence. He fucked you as you rode your high and soon after his thrusts started to falter. He sat up and grabbed your hip to use as leverage. You mustered up as much energy as you could to move away from him, using your legs to drag yourself across the floor. He was much stronger than you at this point and he pulled you back. 
“No, come here. You’re gonna stay still while I finish. Got it?”
The tears kept flowing, but you obeyed. You lied back as he came inside of you. He stayed inside of you for a minute, savoring the moment. You were tired and blissed out. He pulled out of you without a word. He watched as his cum dropped out of you. 
“What a sight.”, he said matter a factly. He helped you sit up and wiped tears from your face with his thumb. He brought you close to him and kissed your forehead. 
He got up and put himself back together again. He fixed his clothing, tucking in his pristine white shirt and fastening his pants. He fixed his tie and looked past you into a mirror. 
Once satisfied, he grabbed a towel from his desk and cleaned you up. He helped you up to your feet and began dressing you. His demeanor was softer now. He took his time as he got you dressed. Once he was finished he helped you sit on the couch. You curled up into his side, seeking comfort from the man who had just used you. 
You’d never felt more confused. You knew this shouldn’t have happened. Every boundary had been crossed. But, the special attention from him felt better than anything. You fell asleep on his shoulder. He let you sleep on him for a while before he got up to write notes on what had just occurred. He found his glasses, put them on, and returned to his desk to begin writing. He included your reaction to the “medication” and how receptive you were to the treatment.
You woke up about an hour later, confused. You looked around and recognized his office. The memories of earlier events came rushing back. You felt your cheeks get hot.
Jonathan looked up from the paper he was holding up. “Rise and shine.”
He grabbed a sheet of paper from your file. He attached it to a clipboard and grabbed a pen. He handed you the materials and you looked down. It was another questionnaire. 
“Fill this out as accurately as possible.”
“What is it for?” You cleared your throat. He sat back down at his desk and picked up the paper he was previously inspecting. He looked at your file before looking back at you. 
“Our next session.”, he replied. 
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velvetvexations · 1 month ago
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It really bothers me how the response to the whole dropout thing is being framed. Let's face it, most people aren't saying 'you're wrong for wanting more transfem rep on dropout' like it's being framed. I agree that it would be good to see more transfems on dropout! That's not the issue with the discourse. My main issues with it are:
-it being framed as TME/TMA, which among other issues, essentially implies that cis men and cis women are adequate representation for transmasc and transneutral people who were afab. Their own gender doesn't need to be represented, anyone who is not 'TMA' counts as representation for 'TMEs'
-it's based on appearance and speculation about the cast members agab. We literally do not know most of these people's agab. You cannot always reliably tell what gender someone was assigned at birth. Not to mention, agab is not the be-all-end-all of what oppression you face and how you'll be perceived. Intersex people exist. You can be afab but then go through a masculinizing puberty. You can be amab and go through a femininizing puberty. Many intersex people are assigned one at birth and then discover that they are intersex later when they don't develop in the way that's expected of someone with their agab.
-Misrepresenting the data. This was entirely unnecessary and makes it hard to take the argument in good faith. If you just counted each cast member once, it would still show that there's less representation for transfems than transmascs, and it would be more accurate. But counting it by appearance, they massively inflated the numbers of 'TMEs' since Ally Beardsley alone shows up hundreds of times. That's not a sensible way to compare the data. They very clearly picked which way to present the data to make it as extreme and attention grabbing as possible, at the cost of accurately representing the data in question. And I believe intentionally representing things in a way that is less accurate just to get people to agree with you is wrong. If you have a good point, you shouldnt have to misrepresent the data to make it. And they DIDNT HAVE TO. There IS less transfem rep. The point could have been made while still being accurate, it just wouldn't have been as attention grabbing and gotten all of those outage reblogs. But if this is really about representation and not getting attention on tumblr, that shouldn't matter, right?
I also just... don't think this is an effective way to to about it? It seems like it's more about finding another way to be praised for complaining about 'TMEs' than it is about actually improving the representation. Like, if you want better representation, why not do something about it other than posting on tumblr? You could write to dropout and let them know how much trans representation means to you and that you'd love to see more transfems on their shows. I suspect a few messages like that would do a lot more good than all of this discourse. Lets be real, when has tumblr discourse EVER brought about real, meaningful change?
We did get someone to stop taking bones from a graveyard once, ten years ago.
Thank you for all of this anon, it's very well said.
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p1hypen · 1 year ago
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TERRIBLE TWOS — P. SUNGHOON
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SYNOPSIS! A rash decision on your end causes you and Sunghoon to break up. What you think is for the best turns out to be the complete opposite, actually. Cue two years later when a random encounter with your ex forces you to revisit past feelings that has never quite fully departed from either of you. PAIRING! Chairman!Sunghoon x Fem!Reader WC! 11.4k (Got carried away)
GENRE/CW! Exes getting back together, fluff, slight angst if you squint, smut (fingering, brief mentions of fem oral receiving, sunghoon has a 7 inch cock; i headcanon that, unprotected sex, missionary, creampie, lots of tongue kissing), swearing, reader is in denial just a tad bit, ft. non-idol!yunjin, reader is a struggling fine arts major, etc. MDNI
A/N: originally, i intended for this to be a simple one shot but it somehow turned out to be greater than that in the end lol. this was also my first attempt at writing smut; i've always wanted to try it but damn is it kinda hard. i feel like the title doesn't match or capture the story as good but whatever-- it used to be called 'seasons,' yet that didn't make sense either so... terrible twos it is! i hope you enjoy <3
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“Y/n?” 
A trace of uncertainty laces the man's voice, his mind racing with the possibility that he might have mistaken a stranger for someone from his past. Internally, he winces at the prospect of this awkward mix-up, dreading such an encounter with a random person. He clings to the hope that his intuition proves accurate.
Could it really be her? Amid the bustling crowd, she always managed to stand out, an unmistakable aura surrounding her. Her presence eclipsed even the most vibrant of settings, radiating a unique energy that outshone a field of flowers.
When he tentatively calls out her name in a hushed tone, she spins around on her heel, and for an ephemeral moment, Sunghoon feels as though he's stepped into a scene from a classic romance film.
Time stills and so does he. 
Each of your movements steals his breath away. The way your hair dances in harmony with the wind, and how your eyelashes cast the most delicate shadow upon your high cheekbones. Your gradual unveiling leaves him struggling to swallow past an inexplicable lump in his throat. 
Sunghoon notices the moment your eyes widen. Behind those enchanting orbs, he discerns a flicker of nostalgia and a touch of melancholy. During your time together, he had the uncanny ability to read those emotions hidden within the depths of your eyes.
“Sunghoon…” You say no louder than a mere whisper that could easily get lost in the summer’s wind that passes through the both of you. 
Your heart throbs in your chest. The biological response is far too overwhelming that you can feel your stomach tying itself in double knots. You think you might need to be pointed to the nearest bathroom so you can barf up the swarm of butterflies that disturb your system. No doubt, does crossing paths with an ex whom you share a long history with manage to do that to you. 
“H-how are you?” You’re the first to strike up a conversation despite that being Sunghoon’s unspoken responsibility. 
How am I? Sunghoon has to brace himself to collect his messy thoughts. 
“I’m pretty good, and yourself?”
His response is curt and short. In any other setting, he would have elaborated on his answer but he wasn’t sure how much information was too much to reveal to an ex regarding the state of his well-being. You nod at his words, not really expecting much nor having high hopes that he would give you more to work with in this conversation of playing catch-up between an ex. 
See, your relationship ended amicably, with both of you acknowledging that the spark kindled between you two had faded out. With your mind elsewhere, too focused on your academics (so you like to say), and Sunghoon preparing to inherit his family’s business, there was little room for romance in either of your daily routines. Your typical weekend dates were swapped out for meetings with major corporations and other soon-to-be-chairman-related activities so that he could fully understand what the rest of his future held for him. 
Even though you missed having your boyfriend's undivided attention, you refused to act as a temporary roadblock that prevented him from making significant progress. Despite your heart and brain being at war with each other, you made the conscious decision to slowly back down from being his lover and tucked your face in the pages of your academic textbooks.
With Sunghoon too busy to even acknowledge that his girlfriend was distancing herself from him, you were the first to come forward, bearing the news that breaking up would be the optimal solution to your and his fading presence in one another’s lives. 
That night when you bid goodbye, he felt half his heart shatter inside of him. Little did you know that you carried the other part wherever you went, but now that you were no longer capable of sheltering that missing piece, it almost made him want to die inside more than just a tad bit— a lot, actually.
He pretended to play it cool as your back turned to him and he watched you retreat to your car, feeling both helpless and defeated. With an unflinching countenance, a tightly clenched jaw, and fingers gripped at his sides, Sunghoon longed for his feet to have chased after you, preventing your departure from his life. He yearned to undo whatever had driven you away, to rewrite his mistakes and reshape your shared history.
Sadly, not even the first star in the sky he saw at night could grant him something as demanding as that.
On the contrary, had those things happened, he wouldn’t be here today on a Thursday afternoon rekindling a connection that got tossed up in the air and fell through his fingertips.
“I—“ Before you get a chance to deliver your sentence Sunghoon’s hold on your arm prompts him to draw you to his chest. 
Your breath hitches in the back of your throat, eyes simultaneously widening for the second time thanks to a certain ex. You look up at the taller one with crinkled brows. A mixture of confusion and a looming feeling in the deepest pit of your stomach that hasn’t quite left, tugging at your heartstrings. His intoxicating scent of Dior Sauvage is all too overwhelming for your nose to take in. You swear your head could start spinning any minute now. 
He’s so close to you. You’re so close to him. If someone were to come by and accidentally bump into you, you would be pressed up against his chest, breaking what limited distance is keeping you two apart. 
A bike rider disrupting pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk whizzes by, obnoxiously ringing the bell attached to their handlebar as if they aren’t to be blamed for riding on the concrete pavement, and it’s only then do you realize that Sunghoon was protecting you from getting hit. His body relaxes once he declares that it’s safe for you to comfortably stand in the open from any oncoming obstructions. 
“Sorry… acted on impulse.” His grasp on you immediately retreats to the inside of his pant pockets and you swear that his touch leaves a ghosting sensation on your skin. 
Sunghoon refuses to meet your lingering gaze, eyes averting to some random couple walking their dog across the street from where the two of you are standing. It’s almost funny how he fully believed two years ago that one day both of you would be exactly like that: dog owners who take their beloved fur baby on walks together and enjoy the simplicity of the little things that a relationship has to offer. 
“It’s okay, thank you,” You murmur, unsure of where things should go from here. 
A beat of silence comes and goes before Sunghoon has the chance to take the initiative to prove he’s different from his past self. 
The past self you witnessed throughout the duration of your shared romanticism. The past self who failed to convince you to stay because he never wanted you to leave his side. What he wanted was to work things out and to understand what he could do to change and make things better for the two of you.
Even if that meant you breaking up with him first to realize this.
“Listen, why don’t we…” He suddenly starts. Sunghoon analyzes your face and when your features evidently show that you’re all ears for what he has to say, he takes a deep breath to compose himself. “Get dinner. Together.“ 
Although the question comes out more like a demand rather than a request, you’re slightly taken aback because you were almost certain Sunghoon probably resents you for the breakup— at least that’s what you tell yourself— and that he doesn’t want any business involving you entering his life for a repeat performance. The only different thing is that you’re his ex.
Can you blame him? It was so sudden.
The concealed hurt he tried to mask but failed to do so when you told him you wanted to end things, hoping it’d be left on good terms, rambling about how much you do and will continue to care for him no matter what he does in life or who he chooses to love after you. It seems you did more talking than he got the chance to, and Sunghoon wasn’t sure if you had this all planned leading up to that moment, or if he should’ve seen it coming. 
Whatever it was, Sunghoon could never hate or repent you, but you’re no telepathic mind-reader and wouldn’t know how he feels about you now unless you asked. 
Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth as you ponder the idea of sitting in a fancy restaurant with Sunghoon and sharing a long conversation over an expensive meal that is highly overpriced for its ridiculously small portions. 
“On one condition,” You quip. Sunghoon gestures for you to keep going and you clear your throat. “No five-star Michelin places, okay? I just want a simple dinner to make up for lost time.” 
The older male chuckles, nodding his head sensibly. If there’s one thing Sunghoon learned about you is that you were never hard to please and preferred the opposite of a high-end luxury lifestyle that he naturally grew up with. 
“Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 8, how’s that sound?” 
“That’s perfect but um—“ you purse your lips. “Do you… Do you still remember where I live?” 
“Of course. It would take a lot more than time and distance apart from each other, for me to forget your every being.”
Sunghoon leans in to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The underlying intimacy hiding beneath his actions has you contemplating what the course of your relationship would have looked like for the two of you, had you not broken up with a man as sweet and thoughtful as him.
Was calling it quits between you two a mistake? Should you have stuck it out just a little longer? 
You can only shove those thoughts to the farthest point in the back of your mind and recenter your focus to the handsome ravenette. 
Sunghoon, sporting a warm grin that gradually grows into a pearly white showcase of his perfect teeth and adorable canines, makes it worth marveling if second chances are a thing that people still stand by. 
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The next evening, Sunghoon unexpectedly arrived at your front door 20 minutes ahead of your readiness. While you were trying to situate yourself into your cami dress that paired well with the current season, a knocking sound coming from the entrance to your studio unit startled you in its wake. You tapped on the screen of your phone to check the time and crinkled your nose when the numbers staring back at you read 7:40. 
Sunghoon’s habit of arriving for an occasion earlier than expected was not unusual for his character. The taller's mannerisms crept into other facets of his social life after years of being trained to believe that "early is on time" and "on time is late." However, 20 minutes ahead of schedule was definitely new to you, and part of you can’t help but think if this is stemming from anxiety or if that’s just you projecting your nerves onto his much early arrival. 
“Just a sec!” You struggled to reach for the zipper to your dress, stress-sweating due to the pressure of having to rush through the rest of your routine.
After what felt like a millennia you finally managed to seal yourself shut into your attire and scurried to the front door where poor Sunghoon was waiting for you to answer.
“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t get to the zipper of my dress and I don’t think me flashing you or my neighbors in semi-public is socially acceptable.” You awkwardly laugh, strands of hair sticking to the back of your neck and forehead from the accumulated sweat you managed to produce. 
Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head at your guilty tendency to overshare too much information for the dramatics.
“No worries. I know I showed up earlier than expected. Don’t worry about me, do what you need to do.” He smiles softly and for a second it almost slips your mind that you’re no longer romantically involved with each other. 
Oh, how you wish you could leap at him and smother the dashing man with kisses all over his Greek god-like, beautiful face…
“Here,” The taller unveils a bouquet of flowers that he attempted (underline, attempted) to hide behind his back. In reality, you could already see bits of it peeking out but chose to play coy about the item he was holding back from giving you. 
You fawn at the striking arrangement of tulips that come in different shades of the prettiest of pinks. Tulips. Of course, he would remember that those are your favorite. His words from yesterday ring in your ears, and believing them, you truly start to confide that Sunghoon could never boot you out of his memory as easy as a snap of his fingers.
“The prettiest bunch of flowers for the prettiest girl.” Sunghoon cautiously says, unsure if that would be stepping a line. To be fair, there isn’t an official handbook on what you should or shouldn’t say to an ex— except for some of the more common phrases; whatever that may be.
You let out a lighthearted laugh at the bold, yet cheesy, compliment and invited Sunghoon into the safe haven of your apartment, ignoring the way your heart practically skipped a beat when he said that. 
He’s been here on plentiful occasions so he’s really no stranger to the arrangement of your flat and could probably draw out an entire floor plan if he wanted to. At one point he almost committed to the thought of moving in with you, but you were a firm believer that it would be best if he stuck to the minimalist mansion he decorated himself; it was passed down to him from none other than his father. Needless to say, Sunghoon was a pouty puppy that day.
“I’m almost ready I promise.” You say. “I just need to add some finishing touches and then I’m all yours for the night.” Immediately your hands fly to your mouth when realization dawns on you about the delivery of your words. 
Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, and luckily, you miss the faint smirk that tugs at the corner of his plump lips teasingly.
“You know what I mean!” You panic, waving off the metaphorical atmosphere that surrounds both of you.
You excuse yourself and escape to your room as the tips of your ears start to flush with embarrassment.
Once the door leading to your bedroom shuts behind you with a mellow thud, your back presses up against the surface of the entryway. A loud sigh that you weren't even aware you were repressing since Sunghoon arrived breaks out past your tinted lips. With your mind a foggy mess and your heart threatening to leap right out of your chest, you’re under the impression that you resemble the stereotypical anime school girl the way your entire demeanor changes when you’re around him. 
But that’s the thing.
It’s only Sunghoon. 
It’s just Sunghoon.
So what if you guys dated in high school and partially during college? So what if he was the first and only guy you’ve been with, and even though you have no one to compare him to, he would still be the best ex you could ever have? So what if you regret breaking up with him because you got ahead of yourself and refused to be transparent with him? 
So what if you want him back…
You pat both sides of your cheeks to wake yourself from a philosophical dilemma. you refuse to go down a rabbit hole of emotions especially when you’re about to go out to dinner. 
You shuffle through your wardrobe in search of a certain pair of Converse that a special someone gave to you as a birthday gift. When you find it neatly stored away in its original packaging and the box that it came in you’re almost too eager to slip your feet into the collar of the Chuck Taylor’s.
You halt in your steps when you reach your vanity and grab your everyday bottle of perfume, spritzing one pump, then two, then three, and four more of the floral scent, that you’re showering yourself in it at this point.
When you've deemed that you’re completely ready and satisfied with your appearance for the evening, you exit the inviting comfort of your cozy chambers. Sunghoon’s back is facing you as you ascend into the living room. You can’t make out much of what he’s doing and he’s seemingly too preoccupied to notice your footsteps stalk across the wooden paneling. His neck is craned downward looking at something on the decorative table where you have a neat arrangement of framed pictures. 
“You still have this?” He turns around revealing the photograph that he was referring to, now in his possession. There’s a distant glimmer of emotion that you can’t quite make out peeking around the curves of his irises. 
You let out a resigned sigh. 
You’ve been caught red-handed for leaving a single trace of the past out in the open. 
Of all the furniture and miscellaneous objects that collect dust on different surfaces in your flat, Sunghoon chose to go for the photograph of you and him standing under a cherry blossom tree in Ilsan Park. Your arm was hooked around his waist and his was wrapped around your shoulder. The brightest of smiles stretched across your faces as petals danced around you. It was the perfect moment captured in stillness and you wish you could leap through pictures to relive that special day. A distant memory that feels like it happened not too long ago.
“I couldn’t get rid of it. It’s— That’s one of my favorite pictures of us.” You simply explain. 
It was true, because out of all of the selfies, candid photos, and other pictures you shared together with Sunghoon, your date to Ilsan Park remained your number one core memory as a couple. 
You watch intently as Sunghoon places the photo back where it originally belonged on the console.
“I think that’s one of my favorites, too.” He says as a matter of fact. “That or the one where we went to Lotte World and wore matching uniforms together.” The taller laughs.
You giggled, the recollection of your amusement park date flashing across your mind. You dragged him to go on each and every attraction with you as he stumbled in your tracks, struggling to keep up with your social battery. You felt like two high schoolers in love at the ripe age of 20 because being with Sunghoon gave you the impression that you were your 15-year-old self again. 
“I like that one as well! I thought I looked pretty cute in that uniform.” You grin sheepishly.
Sunghoon chuckles and it causes you to whip your head to survey him. His eyes crinkle before they’re no longer crescent and back to their original doe-eyed shape. 
“You’re still cute, y’know that?” 
The comment sends your heart ablaze along with the blood that rushes to the surface of your cheeks. You can only hope that the thin layer of makeup and blush you applied is strong enough to camouflage the effect that sunghoon has on you. It’s no secret that he was always a smooth talker and still is. It makes you wonder if he’s ever used that flirtatious skill on other women he’s come across after you— or if he has. 
You tut your tongue at him and reach for your crossbody purse draped on the couch that you lazily tossed aside yesterday after coming home. 
“Ready, m’lady?” Sunghoon twists the knob and pushes the front door open, supporting the weight with his broad frame to keep it from closing in on you two when you exit. 
“Wait!” You pip, halting in your steps. You briskly retreat to your room and grab the bouquet of tulips you left on the side table next to your bed. 
You scurry over to Sunghoon, cradling the arrangement of florals like it was your baby. The haired boy opens his mouth to say something but you’re too fast to retort, 
“I wanna show it off. They’re too pretty to be left at home.” 
He nods and motions his hand for you to leave the unit first. The taller gives himself a mental pat on the back for inquiring in a floral shop before coming to retrieve you for dinner.
Tulips are a girl’s best friend, after all. For you, at least.
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Coincidentally dinner happens to occur at the one restaurant you frequently visited when you and Sunghoon were dating. It was a simple ma and pa spot only locals in the area knew of. They were popularly known for their cold noodles and ginseng chicken soup. You like to think of it as a secret only two of you know about and continue to gatekeep it from your friends or families from ever coming across of it. 
The owners grew familiar with both of you through your frequent visits and friendly conversations. your rapport with them resulted in a warm welcome every time you returned, often accompanied by a generous discount as a token of their appreciation. Since your last visit to their restaurant, a while has gone by, and you both have been overdue to make an appearance at the restaurant.
“Aigoo, Sunghoon-ah, it’s been so long!” Mrs. Kim exclaims, wearing the biggest and brightest smile that brings out the crinkles in her complexion when she notices two familiar faces. “And Y/n, it’s good to see you too!” She turns to you with the same mien still permanently plastered on her face. 
You bow your head. Her contagious smile has you mirroring her grin. 
“Come, come, sit.” She waves her hand for the two of you to follow in her trail as she leads both of you to your— undesignated but designated— table that you and Sunghoon would constantly sit at.
Before you even have a chance to pull out your chair, Sunghoon beats you to it with surprising swiftness. The aged wood scrapes gently against the floor as he courteously pulls the chair back for you. A warm smile tugs at your lips as you appreciate this chivalrous gesture, unable to contain a soft giggle of delight. 
Mrs. Kim watches the interaction between the two of you and smirks, completely out of the loop that you have broken up; still under the assumption that you’re both dating to this day. Who could blame her when in her eyes you were the perfect missing piece for one another in this world like you were made for each other from the start. 
“The usual?” She asks despite already knowing the answer to her question. 
“Yes please,” Sunghoon nods.
He sits after folding his blazer in half so that it can rest neatly on the chair's backrest. To add some fuel to the flame, he unbuttons the cuffs to his long sleeves and rolls them past his forearms so that they stop an inch below his elbows. The expensive watch that rests snugly on his wrist glistens, almost blinding you. You’re reminded that the man sitting across from you is responsible for an entire company under his name and capable of powerful things.
You gulp. You feel like you’re watching something you shouldn’t be and instead take an interest in the condiments that are pushed to the side of your table. 
Soy sauce, vinegar, napkins… 
When you think that you’re ready to re-center your attention onto Sunghoon once your racing heart has calmed down from its high, the taller has his eyes closed as he combs his fingers through his hair. His lips are parted ever so slightly and there’s a shine to his plush tiers.
He has to be doing this on purpose now.
You watch the way his Adam apple bobs when he swallows and you swear it should be a sin to look this effortlessly good in warm overhead lighting. 
You huff, a little too audibly for the male across from you to hear and his doe eyes flutter open. The sudden eye contact catches you off guard and you’re struggling to maintain yourself from the tension your mind is projecting. You shift around in your chair trying to find a more comfortable position.
This is going to be a long dinner.
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After Mrs. Kim returned with your delectable dishes, the food vanished quickly as you guys delved into stories and shared the exciting highlights of your respective journeys. You and Sunghoon spent the rest of your meal at the table reminiscing about the past two years including the many ups and downs you’ve dealt with.
You learned that a month after your breakup, Sunghoon’s father officially stepped down, handing over the reins of the company to his son as the new successor. The ravenette confided in you, revealing that even though he had been groomed for this role his whole life, the transition wasn't as smooth as he had envisioned. The weight of responsibility felt overwhelming. Taking charge of a major company brought with it a level of pressure he had never experienced before. The expectations were high, both from the company's board and the employees who had known him since he was young.
As he grappled with the complexities of his new position, Sunghoon couldn't help but reminisce about a simpler life. He missed the carefree moments he used to share with you, the laughter, and the ease of his unannounced visits when he would turn up at your door with snacks he bought from the corner store and canned beer. 
Eventually his determination and drive to persevere kept him standing strong in the face of these obstacles. With his family behind him, a supportive workforce, and you in the back of his mind, he knew he had people to look back on and make them proud. 
You praised the older for his character development, gushing at his transition from uncertainty to confidence, while sympathizing with the initial troubles he first started off with. Being a chairman at his age is bound to weigh heavily on his mental and emotional health, and you can’t help but wish that you had stayed by his side through it all in order to be that support pillar he needed at immediacy.
“So, what about you? I didn’t really get to hear your answer yesterday.” Sunghoon asks.
You blinked. “Me? Well, uhm…” 
A bubble of insecurity creeps into your stomach. Your mind races through a mental checklist of your own achievements, or rather, the lack thereof, especially when compared to Sunghoon’s impressive journey. While your lives have taken very drastically different paths, you can’t shake the feeling that at the end of the day, the two of you are worlds apart from each other. He’s the chairman of a highly respected company. And you? You’re just a college graduate with a bachelor’s degree in fine arts. A pursuit that feels miles away from Sunghoon’s milestones. 
During the period that he was absent from your everyday life, all you managed to build was your art portfolio, which you eagerly sent to numerous galleries in a desperate bid to gain recognition as a struggling artist. Rejection letters became an all too familiar sight, each offering the same hollow praise— impressed but not interested. Those were dark times, where self-doubt loomed large.
Thankfully, your situation started to improve when you summoned the courage to step out of your comfort zone. You took to social media, opening art accounts on Instagram and Twitter, and sharing your artistic odyssey on TikTok. Yunjin, one of your closest friends and best friend since middle school, commissioned you to paint a mural inside a cafe she was working at. “I begged my boss for this to happen!” She said enthusiastically over the phone the night she asked you for the favor. Everything to you was a leap of faith, a glimmer of hope that prompted you to fully believe in the light at the end of every tunnel. 
In spite of your situation turning out for the better, it was impossible to ignore the inescapable sense of solitude and loneliness that clung to you like a shadow. It followed you everywhere you went. A mental reminder that, no matter how bright life was starting to seem, you still felt trapped and not completely content with yourself.
You convey these exact thoughts and feelings to Sunghoon in a messy ramble, hoping that this unintentional therapy session you’ve turned dinner into won’t scare him off. You can only hope that you’re not ruining the evening with a sob story of another art kid struggling to make a name for themselves in a society, where choosing art as a career path is at a greater disadvantage in comparison to your stronger counterparts. 
When you find yourself coming to the end of your rant, a wave of silence washes over the table, and you grab the nearest cup of water to gulp from. Ignoring the condensation that sweats around the glass and soils your palms. Your eyes look everywhere, purposefully avoiding Sunghoon and the tragic visage he’s probably giving you right about now.
“Y/n, look at me.” 
You raise your head, complying to his soft demand. 
“I’m proud of you,” he begins, and in that instant, a surge of emotion that has been suppressed for far too long wells up within you. “It takes a lot of courage and willpower to continue to follow a path you’re uncertain of.” The comment makes Sunghoon chuckle dryly, closely reminded of himself, shaking his head. “But look at you, you’re doing so great.”
The warmth in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes— they combine like a gentle storm, and suddenly, tears brim your eyes, begging to spill over. Your vision is splotchy and you refuse to blink, save for ruining your mascara. You weren’t planning on being an emotional wreck tonight, especially over dinner with your ex.
“I understand how hard it must have been dealing with those struggles alone, and I wish I was there by your side to help support you when it happened.” Sunghoon continues. He pauses to take in a breath before resuming, “But I’m here now… I’m not going anywhere, and if you’d let me— I want back into your life again, Y/n.”
A solitary tear breaks free, followed by another, and then another, until suddenly your eyes unleash a torrent of waterworks like a relentless downpour from a stormy sky. You hide your face in a handful of napkins you hastily grabbed, unaware that Sunghoon got up to move from his seat and slipped into the chair next to yours. His touch catches you off guard but you immediately relax as he guides you into his embrace, allowing you to hide yourself in his arms; your face tucked away in his chest. He caresses your hair, his slender fingers thread through your styled locks as he lulls you to comfort from your shaken state.
The two of you stay rooted in that position until you confidently and mentally reassure yourself that you are okay; you’re going to be okay. Your breathing has calmed down from its high and returned to a normal, healthy rate as your tears subsided and are non-existent.
No longer conscious of your makeup— a matter far from substantial to care for anymore— you wipe away the mess around your eyes. Black clumps of mascara and some concealer transfer onto the napkin. Seeing the stains garner a weak laugh to emit from you. Sunghoon cranes his neck to survey what you’ve become engrossed with. He sees the ruined makeup and laughs lightly into your hair. 
You’re thankful that there aren’t many customers dining in tonight and that it’s just you, Sunghoon, and three other parties who are far too busy drinking, conversing, and laughing amongst themselves to acknowledge the young couple tucked away in the corner.
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Mrs. Kim leads both you and Sunghoon out of the restaurant with a warmth akin to a grandmother bidding her grandchildren farewell, her heartfelt wish for your safe return home evident in her loving smile.
“Goodbye, Mrs. Kim. Thank you, again, for another delicious dinner.” Sunghoon bows at a 90-degree angle and the formality stirs a boisterous laugh from the frail old lady. You mimic his actions, also expressing your gratitude for the lovely meal and free dessert she served to you guys ‘on the house.’ 
“When you guys come back I better see a wedding ring on her finger, Sunghoon-ah.” Mrs. Kim scolds lightly. You almost choke on your own saliva at the remark, coughing awkwardly to cover up your bewilderment. Sunghoon does his best to maintain his composure for the sake of the elder’s oblivion.
“You guys disappear for two years and still no diamond in sight. I was hoping some big change happened!” She clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth, crossing her arms.
Sunghoon dips his head again in an apologetic manner. “You and Mr. Kim will be the first people we come to with a wedding invitation.” 
You whack the taller’s arm giving him a what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about look, eyebrows scrunched with perplexity. The last thing you want is to continue to feed into Mrs. Kim’s false reality that the two of you are still a couple. Who’s to say that Sunghoon isn’t actually on the same page as you and everything is just a facade? I mean, sure, he’s been flirty here and there, bought you flowers, comforted you at dinner, and practically asked you to take him back… 
Your trust in Sunghoon has clearly waned, a result of your fluctuating self-confidence that leads you to confide in the pessimistic "what ifs." Your clouded judgment and self-doubt gnaw at your thoughts, casting doubt on the possibility of a reunion between the two of you. 
Sunghoon ignores the daggers slicing at the left side of his face and the buzzing pain you inflicted on him from the harsh impact of your hand. His digits dig gently into your side, drawing you closer to him. You stumble ever so slightly and flash an unconvincing awkward smile to the old lady.
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You situate yourselves into the driver and passenger seats of his Hyundai Ioniq. You’re quiet when you pull the seat belt over your upper half, and for the first 10 minutes, not a single word was uttered from either you or the male sitting behind the wheel. Your mind loiters as you watch the building lights illuminating the dark troposphere of Seoul whizz by at 2x speed.
You and Mr. Kim will be the first people we come to with a wedding invitation.
Yeah right… You almost roll your eyes but catch yourself prolonging the idea of a hypothetical engagement and wedding ceremony with Sunghoon as your groom. 
Would he have gone down on one knee to propose to you had both of you remained lovers? 
You shake the contemplation loose from your prefrontal cortex. 
“Is it okay if I roll the window down?” You’re the first to break the ice. Sunghoon nods, his attention still focused on the road in front of him. Without looking, his fingers find the car’s air-con button to turn it off and he gives you the ‘go’ to proceed with your desire. 
The tempered glass descends and you’re immediately greeted with the beating rush of the summertime air. You giggle and rest your arms on the weatherstrip trimming of the Hyundai, your head poking out like an excited dog who’s riding in the car with its tongue hanging from its mouth. You close your eyes, taking in the wind that messes with your hair and brushes past your skin. It’s enough to transcend you into a different headspace, almost forgetting that you’re in a moving vehicle and not on some speedboat skidding across the water in Europe.
Sunghoon looks your way, unable to suppress the natural smile that lights up his face whenever he sees you. You truly are a surge of energy he needs when he wants to uplift himself if he’s feeling down. You’re his happy pill— so much so, that he wishes he could keep a chibi version of you for him to carry in the pocket square of his suits and let you rome on the wooden surface of his office desk to help him get through the work day. It’s silly and love-sickening, but Sunghoon only knows how to act a fool with you around him. 
His fingers drum against the padding of the steering wheel, waking you from your daydream. You hadn’t realized that you’ve already made it back to the city and are soon approaching your apartment complex. Your neighborhood is only a couple of turns away from your current destination as the two of you sit at a red light. You roll the window up, at least it was fun for the duration it endured. 
When he pulls up on the side of the street in front of your building, you try to find some lame excuse to stay with him for another minute longer, not wanting to say goodnight to him. You’re scared that this evening will be a one-off event and you'll return to your old ways, enveloped once more in the arms of self-isolation that consumes you completely.
Your grip on the door handle tightens. 
“Sunghoon,” you shift your view in his direction. “You don’t mind walking me to my front door, do you?” 
The male smiles with his eyes.
“Who am I to not accompany a lady when needed.” 
Sunghoon makes quick work to unbuckle himself from the driver’s seat and rounds the front of the car to open the door for you. He holds out his hand for you to take, which you generously do so, and grants him the unspoken permission to whisk you away into the levels of your residential building. 
The elevator ride is a close resemblance to the trip back to your place, however, there’s a contrasting atmosphere waiting to burst like a champagne bottle and spill over. Sunghoon’s holding your hand the entire way and you don’t resist the notion. 
When you approach your unit at the end of the hall, you fish for your keys that are sitting at the bottom of your bag. Sunghoon’s hand slips out of your grasp and you almost whine at the loss of his warmth and touch, but you know he’s only doing it for you to use both free hands to ultimately unlock your door. The click! of the lock coming from the other side is an indication that you can push past the door once the knob is turned.
You stand there, hesitant to enter your own home. 
“I guess— this is it?” You murmur tentatively to yourself and the taller. You rock on your heels purposefully stalling time as you force both him and yourself to stare a little longer at the iron numbers detailing your front door. 
You let out a rigged breath.
“Tonight was great. The longest I’ve been out of the house in a month, really.” You cringe pathetically at the confession knowing that a month ago Yunjin was the one who pulled you out of bed to get some fresh air and sunlight because you were hiding away like a vampire. "Thank you... Sunghoon, for treating me to dinner and spending the evening with me..."
He remains stoic and unusually quiet, making it challenging to decipher what he’s thinking or feeling. You wish you could enter his mind to get a glimpse of how his brain functions. You’d hate to seem pitiful for hoping that his advances from today were, if at all, genuine.
If what he said at dinner was coming from the heart.
As you contemplate what might be your last encounter with your 'the one who got away,’ Sunghoon astounds you with yet another trick up his sleeve, when he secures your wrist in his delicate grasp. Forever one step ahead of you, his lips collide with yours in a passionate fervent. The only appropriate reaction that you can give him in response is to return the kiss with just as much fervor. The strap to your purse slides off your shoulders and lands below you with a little thud thanks to Sunghoon’s antsy hands pushing it out of the way.
He cages you against the surface of the door, your back bumping into it when he forces the distance between your bodies to dissipate. Bothered by the tiny gap that prevents you from being as close as you possibly can to him. The only active barrier is now the layer of clothing he’s wearing and the tiny dress that nearly clings to your every curve. He can’t wait to impatiently rip you out of it and slip in a “I’ll buy you a new one, princess.”
Your hands find sanctuary in his soft hair. How you missed tugging at their roots when he’d go down on you in bed, on the kitchen counter, and in the shower with your one leg supporting your entire weight as Sunghoon made the other side dangle over his shoulder. Those positions are tempting, and biologically the flashbacks of your sexual activity with the male feed into the expansion of your slick that gradually soils your panties.  
You squeeze your thighs together. The pressure of your inner fat is an empty feeling of pleasure that you wish Sunghoon could replace with his tongue, fingers, cock, or all three one at a time. The male notices this cry-for-help and trails his right hand down the sides of your waist. He stops at the lace hemming of the cami dress, bunching the material to provide easy access to your mid-thigh. His fingers dance on your skin, traveling upward ever so slowly in an antagonizing fashion that almost infuriates you for his teasing manner in the heat of the moment. 
Sunghoon reluctantly breaks the kiss. The evidence of your already smudged matte lipstick has left a faint trace on his plump tiers. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, mouth ready to latch onto the sensitive area he knows best that will cloud every crevice of your mind with nothing but want and lust. At the end of this night, all that you will know is how to be his obedient cocksleeve like the good girl he’s conditioned you into.
The sound of someone clearing their throat on the opposite end of your apartment’s hallway is akin to a record player scratch. You’re grateful that the construction workers, or whoever built this place, designed the structure of your building to be a certain way so that the split-off point from the elevator wasn’t a simple corridor style where you could see both fire exits at each side. Instead, it was more so a wide V-shape. 
In other words, no one really caught you and Sunghoon in semi-public eating one another’s faces. 
You stop to share a quiet laugh with Sunghoon and ultimately enter the safe space of your flat, out of your neighbors point of view where they could have had a free, front-row seat to some juicy content. The door closes behind you, you can barely get out of your shoes and make it past the front step leading to your living room when Sunghoon’s haste to have you underneath the sheets with him in your bed has you stumbling backward. He catches you before you can register that you would have fallen onto your ass against the hardwood. His lips serve him well, contributing to the situation as a distraction that redirects your every inner thought bubble. 
Sunghoon casually kicks off his shoes, adding them to the haphazard pile alongside yours— the least of his concerns at the moment.
The kiss from outside repeats itself, and this time, Sunghoon can contently resume what he intended to do had another tenant not interrupted the mood. But the voyeurism exploration kink in him would have liked either sequence of events. 
His tongue traces a wet stripe up your neck, sending a shiver cascading down your spine. You dully bite down on your bottom lip, trying to stifle the whimper that is sanctioned at the back of your throat, trapped by a surge of lust and anticipation. Sunghoon’s mouth ghosts over the shell of your ear, and his hot breath tickles. 
“I wanna hear you, baby.” He slurs. “Don’t be shy on me now.” 
Sunghoon’s lips sheathe that sensitive spot on your neck, causing you to gasp. Your shoulders tense at the foreign feeling of his mouth on your body, and you’ve forgotten how good it was to receive a hickey. You relax under his touch when he gives the soft fat of your waist a reassuring squeeze.
His canines graze your skin while he sucks on the same patch, switching interchangeably to lap his tongue at the area when he begins to see a blossom of red and purple hues mix together, creating the prettiest bruise that would surely take more than a couple of days to fully heal. You groan when his teeth apply the right amount of force onto your flesh, leaving indents in their wake. His perverted mind relishes in the fact that only he is capable of marking you in ways that no other man could ever come close to.
He steps back to fully appreciate his canvas, that is you, and the absolute masterpiece that you are to him.
He leans in, pressing another kiss to your lips, this time with a gentler, more tender spirit, devoid of any sloppy motions. It’s delicate, a striking contrast to the heated lip-locking session the two of you were entranced with just moments ago on the other side of your apartment door. His larger palms cup your face as the pads of his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks, making you feel loved and cared for.
Sunghoon lures your tongue into his mouth, clamping his lips around the muscle. He suckles at it, eliciting the cutest whimpers that he missed hearing from you since you’ve been gone. 
“Hnngh… Hah,” you pry yourself off of him, a string of your shared saliva connects the two of your equally moist lips. 
Your puffy lips shimmer in the moonlight streaming into your livingroom, as if the moon itself decided to play a starring role tonight. You squeeze his bicep, noticing that the muscle has doubled in size since you last touched it. You peer up at the taller through your eyelashes and Sunghoon has to conceal his primal instincts from fucking your throat with his raging hard-on. 
Your fingers graze the fabric of his long-sleeve collar, tracing delicate patterns across the black tie donned around his neck. Something about being able to witness a man up close in a suit never failed to provoke a flood of arousal from overwhelming your erogenous zone. Specifically, Sunghoon. It’s a shame— not really— that it eventually has to come off. With a deft touch, you begin to unravel the four-in-hand knot, a testament to Sunghoon’s meticulous self-preparation. The silk unravels, revealing its intricate texture beneath your fingertips. 
You assist Sunghoon in removing his suit jacket next, observing it gracefully descend to the floor. You briefly wonder why he's so nonchalant about leaving such an expensive garment on the ground, but he dismisses your concern with a wave of his hand. After all, as a chairman, he has the means and privilege to easily replace such clothing items.
You decide that it’s your turn to take the lead for once and initiate another heated session of sultry lip service. Your mouth kisses Sunghoon’s with primal hunger. Teeth clash, and you see no remorse for your hostility sponsored by pent-up sexual frustration and longing for some sort of relief that only Sunghoon can render. 
In a poor attempt to unbutton the last layer of clothing that shields Sunghoon’s upper half, your fingers fumble with the small disks that are fastened by the slits. You whine frustratedly against his lips once you realize you’re not making much progress. It is incredibly hard to multitask when your tongue is being manhandled by his.
“Here, lemme do it.“ Sunghoon mutters in a low growl. 
He tears open the placket just like he would to a bag of chips, and the buttons you were struggling to relieve him of pop off in ease, taunting you for your lack of efficiency at getting him out of his attire. He wriggles his arms free from the restraints of his sleeves and shrugs the apparel from the summit of his shoulders, allowing the ruined piece to join his suit jacket on the floor.
“Your turn, babe.” 
He twirls you around, your back fully pressed against his front as the tent in his pants pokes at your globes. The thrill of his length nestled between your ass spurs you to grind yourself on him, a staggered exhale of his hot breath fans the curvature of your trapezius, prickling your skin. The cotton material of your underwear cultivates a sticky sensation the longer you stay trapped in it.
“S-shit baby, you’re a fucking tease.” Sunghoon grabs your chin, forcing your head to turn his way so that he can seize your lips in an inconsistent kiss. Alternatively, it’s a tongue duel of him wanting to shove the muscular organ down your throat.
“A-ahh,” You moan helplessly.
He yanks the zipper of your dress. The item peels off of your bust, exposing your bare skin and naked torso simultaneously. You have to wriggle your hips past the remaining fabric in order to fully reveal your bare figure to Sunghoon— besides your damp panties that is.
“No bra today? It’s almost like you were expecting this to happen…” Sunghoon taunts.
“N-no…” You squeak, shaking your head.
“No? Use your words baby.”
You turn to face him, your perky mounds that come into his view are a sight for sore eyes. Even in the dark and scant amount of natural lighting from the celestial object in the night sky, is Sunghoon competent at reading your flustered features. How you manage to be cute yet look so lewd all at once is beyond his comprehension.
“I-I didn’t wear a bra because I thought it’d be easier to go without one.” You mumble, telling the truth.
“That’s better,” Sunghoon coos. He pecks your cheek and you smile at the reward.
“Eeek! S-Sunghoon!” You burst into a fit of shared laughter and giggles when said name scoops you into his arms, your body cradled against his chest, as your legs dangled over his one arm while the other supports your back.
“Just practicing when we’re both walking down the aisle at our future wedding.” Sunghoon jests.
Tenderness fills your eyes when you look up at him. He’s joked about the hypothetical conception of marriage twice in the night that you’re fully convinced it wouldn’t be all that bad of an idea. Given that both of you are ready and first rekindle the status of your relationship, of course.
Sunghoon grins. There’s a gentle kindness to his pearly whites, and you reach up to press a chaste kiss to his jawline.
He relocates to your bedroom. Gently, he lays you down on the bed, your body propped up on your forearms, bearing the weight of your upper half. With an unwavering gaze, you study Sunghoon closely, every detail of his expression and every nuance of his presence.
His eyebrows knit and meet in the middle, fixated on undoing his pants to escape from their restraints, followed by his underwear soon after. His stiff member rebounds off his lower abdomen, precum leaking from the mushroom tip. A satisfied exhale leaves his mouth. He stalks over to you with a sly smirk, towering your smaller frame when he crawls on top of the bed, his knees plant themselves into the mattress and his additional weight dips the space where you lay.
You whine when his length ghosts at the expanse of your inner thigh, suspense and arousal continue to bubble inside of you. Sunghoon murmurs for you to lay back. “Make yourself comfortable,” were his initial instructions before hooking the waistband of your panties with his fingers and dragging them below your legs. The undergarment was tossed to the side.
You nibble at your bottom lip and screw your eyes shut when a slender finger circles the perimeter of your labia.
“You’re so wet babe,” Sunghoon purrs.
Your breath hitches at the back of your throat when he slides his index finger through your inner lips, gathering an abundance of your slick to bring to his mouth for a taste. Both eyes flutter open in time to witness Sunghoon suck at the digit drenched with your arousal. The sight is sinfully lewd, nearly too much for you to handle. Your face reddens and you fight the inclination to hide behind your hands.
“You taste so good, too.“ He licks at his lips. “Wanna try?” Sunghoon cocks his head to the side, and you can’t find it in you to turn down his offer when he looks so innocent— yet acts like the devil himself when he’s overcome with lust. You nod your head with approval.
His duality needs to be studied at Harvard, you think in the back of your mind.
Sunghoon plunges his index finger past your hole, triggering your back to arch an inch off the bed. He chuckles lowly and watches as your hands grab desperately at the sheets beneath you to steady your sanity. The singular digit curls inside of you. Your unforeseen shock is vocalized in the form of a moan and Sunghoon repeats the motion several times.
“O-oh my god—“ You gasp.
The ravenette withdraws his finger and taps at your mouth, signaling you to open. You submit to his implicit dictation. Your lips encase his pointer, tongue swirling around it like a piece of sweet candy you’re tasting for the first time.
You bat your eyelashes prettily and moan. “Mmmh…”
“Dirty girl,” Sunghoon sniggers. He retracts his finger and you let it slip past your mouth with a ‘pop’ sound.
“Can you please give me your cock now?” You plead with a pout, doing your best impression of an endearing set of puppy eyes.
Sunghoon chuckles. “Let me at least prep you first, baby. How long has it been since you’ve had someone’s cock inside of you, anyways?”
You part your lips but close it just as quickly. To be candid, you've never been one to actively immerse yourself in the 'I'm single' scene. Your only foray into it was with Yunjin, roughly three weeks after your split with Sunghoon. The two of you ventured to a club, but it proved to be a brief endeavor. Within two hours, the fifth shot became a catalyst, turning you into an unending fountain of tears.
“Y/n?”
“Huh? Oh. Sorry…”
“I’m sorry baby. Did I overstep your boundaries?” Sunghoon cups your face with his right hand, his eyes scan yours, sincerity and concern laced in those chocolate orbs of his.
You stifle a giggle. Of all boundaries he could have crossed he draws the line at asking for your body count and not him fingering you.
“What? What’s so funny?” He asks.
“Nothing just… I think it’s ironic you ask me that now and not before we did all of this.” You motion to your bare bodies when you say ‘this.’
Sunghoon’s ears redden.
“But don’t worry, Hoonie.” You hook your arms around his neck and pull him closer to pepper his face with several reassuring kisses. “I don’t mind it all. Now can you please fuck my brains out!”
Your ex (whatever he is to you at this point) throws his head back to share a quick laugh, shortly pressing his forehead against yours.
Without warning, he buries three fingers in your pussy; your hips twitch at the sentience. They slide in and out without strain and together the two of you watch as he finger fucks your hole to “prep” for his cock. The squelching noise of your juices fill the room in addition to your moaning, and Sunghoon confronts a hurdle of his patience wearing thin, wanting to fuck you senseless.
His digits leave your hole and you whine immediately at the loss. Sunghoon uses the mass quantity of slick as a substitute for lube to lather on his angry cock. He shuffles against the bed, forcing your legs even further apart to fit himself in between them. The stretch burns your muscles but is soon forgotten when the tip of his length is rubbing your folds, occasionally bumping your swollen clit which generates a needy whine.
Sunghoon’s face screws with ecstasy when his shaft inches past your entrance. Your walls hug his length and he whimpers at the tight muscles that suffocate his erection. You squirm under him, tensed and breathing heavily. It’s hard to relax when seven inches feel like it’s splitting you in half after a long hiatus from sex. Sunghoon notices your discomfort and stills his hips from pushing further, allowing you the necessary time to adjust.
“Sorry baby, I know it’s been a while. You can take it, right? Like the good girl you are?”
You nod. He kisses your forehead, cheek, and lips to soothe your anxiety, using his lips as a distraction to keep your mind from zoning in on his cock. He seizes the opportunity to fit the rest of his length inch-by-inch, and you feel like a virgin all over again when the burn of his cock stretching you open is almost too unbearable.
“Sshh, it’ll be alright, baby.” He wipes away a loose tear. “I’m gonna move, tell me when and if it’s too much, okay?”
“O-okay, Hoonie…”
Steadily, Sunghoon recedes his hips, cock following in suit, just enough for the tip to be the only thing that your pussy clenches on. He snaps forward, your boobs jiggle at the motion and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head when he repeatedly thrusts at a steadfast pace. The pain you were once scared of is no longer a fear you have to worry about, as pleasure is the only thing you know how to feel.
“F-faster, harder, p-please Hoon.” You fight through broken moans to let your voice be heard.
“Shit—“ He curses.
Sunghoon’s fingers dig into the plush fat of your waist while his other hand presses into the space of your bed next to the side of your head. His eyebrows knit, focused entirely on increasing the speed of his thrusts. He continues to piston fuck your pussy, abusing your hole in the utmost gratifying procedure. Your thighs jiggle each time that his balls slap against your skin. Everything reminds him of an amateur homemade video he’s seen from other couples perform on Pornhub. He’ll have to ask you some other day if you’d ever be open to filming your own tapes to watch back.
“Mmh, right there, Hoonie.” You sigh dreamily, locking your legs around his waist and linking your ankles together. “You’re fucking me so good— Aah!” A high pitch squeal slips from your vocal box when his tip probes at your G-spot.
“F-fuck,” Sunghoon leans in close, relying only on one forearm to hold himself up from crushing you with his entire weight. He hides his face in your boobs, tongue flicking at the sensitive bud that hardens in response. He persistently thrusts deeper, his cockhead pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Hnngh… Y-yes, yesyesyes!” You chant. Your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, scratching gently at his scalp and tugging whenever his mouth would suck or massage at your breasts. “You’re gonna— make me c-cum!“
Sunghoon’s unrelenting despite your warning. He can feel your walls clamping around his shaft, signaling your impending orgasm, and it taunts him to force himself deeper within your warm cavern at every jerk of his hips. Your hands fall to his biceps. Nails digging into his skin as your face distorts into extreme pleasure.
“I’m so close too, baby.” He groans. “Just.” Thrust. “A.” Thrust. “Couple.” Thrust. “M-more!”
“I’m cumming! I’m c-cumming—“ Your hips tremble with a frenzied urgency as your pussy pulsates around Sunghoon’s cock. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp and a long, impassioned moan escapes your lips. The sheer intensity of the moment leaving you incoherent and lost in ecstasy.
Sunghoon twitches inside of you. “Hah— you’re so— fuck!— s-sexy,” He grunts. Your head thrashes at the overstimulation of his length continuously pumping into you and you push at Sunghoon’s chest weakly, crying on his cock for him to slow down. You whine, whimper, plead for mercy so that your pussy can recover from the intense orgasm you just experienced not too long ago. In spite of that, he ignores your pleas and concentrates on finishing. It isn’t until white ropes of cum are shooting at your walls when his thrusts start to get sloppier and progressively come to a stop.
“Fuck.” Sunghoon exhales through gritted teeth. Both of you are a panting mess trying to catch your breaths as your chests rise and fall synchronously. The ravenette pulls out slowly and he groans when he sees his seed spill out of your hole, it closely reminds him of those hentai comics he’s read through illegal websites.
“I’ll get something to help clean you up.” Sunghoon lifts his weight from the bed but you reach for his forearm to grab him. You don’t have to say anything for him to understand that you don’t want him to leave your side. He brings a hand to yours, the pad of his thumb grazing the hills of your knuckles soothingly. “It’ll be fast, I promise.”
Not even 30 seconds has gone by when he re-enters your room with a damp cloth. He wipes at the areas where a mix of your cum and his seed litter your skin with sticky residue. He discards of the ruined cloth before joining you in bed where you welcome him with open arms. He plops down next to you and you turn to lay on your side so that you can get a proper view of his handsome face in post-sex afterglow. You reach out to gently touch his moles that adorn his features. The moles you missed seeing as the first thing in the morning when you’d wake up with him by your side. He grins lazily and cranes his neck to bring his lips to your forehead.
“Sunghoon…?” Your faces are merely inches apart from one another. Though the close proximity is not a foreign situation— especially after just having sex— you speak to him with a hushed tone.
“Yes?” He inquires.
“At the restaurant, you implied that you wanted to get back together again… Is it true? Do you really mean it?” Your lips are quivering and you mentally berate yourself for being so soft hearted in these types of scenarios where emotions are high, vulnerable, and transparency is called upon.
Sunghoon breathes shakily. “I really mean it. I miss you, Y/n.” He tucks away loose strands of hair that fall on your face. “These past two years without you have been hell. The first couple of months were so bad, I almost reconsidered being the chairman for father’s company so I could fight for us. Fight for you. I’m sorry if that part of my life got in our way as a couple, and I wish I had made more of an effort to be around you.”
You sniffle, “It wasn’t just your fault. I should’ve communicated instead of thinking I know better and that I thought what I did was for the greater good— because it wasn’t. And you’re right, the two years I spent without you were awful. I never wanna go through that again.”
Sunghoon loops an arm around your waist and guides your head to bury against his chest.
“We don’t have to.”
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Morning rays gently infiltrate the room as Sunghoon stands before the full-length mirror in your shared master bedroom. His voice carries across the space as he greets his loving wife, 'Good morning, Mrs. Park,' while he meticulously adjusts his tie.
You stir in bed. The unwelcome intrusion of sunlight forces you awake despite the supposedly blackout curtains you requested when you first moved in with Sunghoon. You sigh in irritation. Dismissing the hope of another ten minutes of sleep, you push yourself upright, your arms stretching above your head, accompanied by a vibrant yawn. Sunghoon, amused by your morning ritual, chuckles softly.
“Still sleepy?” Your husband turns to face you after successfully finishing the Windsor knot of his tie. You blink away the fog of grogginess from your eyes and grin when you get a clear vision of your husband clad in his usual work uniform.
“Mmm… you’re so handsome.”
Sunghoon's face lights up with a genuine smile, touched by your kind words that always seem to set the perfect tone for his day. He approaches your side of the bed with a confident saunter and takes a seat beside you.
“Any plans for today, my lovely wife?”
You can't help but giggle at his endearing habit of calling you 'wife' and 'Mrs. Park.' It's become a sweet tradition between the two of you, a reminder of your loving bond that has grown since your wedding day. You twist your hand to observe the silver band that ornaments your ring finger. The diamond twinkles back at you in the bask of the light.
“I think Yunjin and I are getting brunch, then we’re going shopping right after, and later in the evening we’re gonna drink some wine and paint as we gossip about our husbands.”
Sunghoon laughs. “You’ve got a busy day ahead of yourself then.” He nudges your side playfully and you giggle. “Don’t forget to fit me into your schedule. Let’s go out for dinner tonight.”
“Cold noodles and ginseng chicken soup?”
“Where it all started.”
You envelop yourself in your husband's embrace, showering him with affectionate kisses. Starting from his moles and moving to both cheeks, his nose, forehead, and, ultimately, his irresistible lips, you express your love and absolute adoration for him with each tender peck.
“I love you, Mr. Park.” You murmur against his plush tiers.
His fingers delicately sweep aside the loose strands of hair obscuring your face, as he lovingly takes in every captivating feature, examining them with deep worship.
“I love you more, Mrs. Park.”
Two years ago you and Sunghoon sealed the knot in California. The ceremony took place at the Alila Ventana wedding venue, perched on a cliff along the rugged coast line of Big Sur. It offered a dramatic landscape, nestled amidst towering redwood trees, and a breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean; the perfect picturesque backdrop for photos and videography. The outdoor spaces, gourmet dining, and coastal elegance were truly significant factors of your reception.
Sunghoon kept his promise to Mrs. Kim when the time came to send out the wedding invitations. Her excitement was beyond words as both of you entered the restaurant, radiating a newfound delight. Her gaze immediately fixated on the sparkling diamond ring on your finger— the same one she had scolded him for, which was now complete.
Come time to exchange your vows, Sunghoon's heartfelt declaration to cherish and devote himself to your love made it extremely difficult to keep your makeup in tact. Yunjin, your appointed maid of honor, had to step in to hand you tissues one after the other. The audience laughing to themselves at your showcase of emotions.
True to his words, Sunghoon carried you bridal style as he stalked down the aisle. Your families and friends cheering from their seats, their joyous applause resonating through the air. The warmth of their smiles and the happy tears in their eyes mirrored the love that enveloped you both in that moment.
Since then, life with Sunghoon after marriage was anything but dull.
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sapphosclosefriend · 1 year ago
Text
- I need you by my side -
Pairing: Royal! Natasha Romanoff x Princess! Fem! Reader
Genre: fluff, smut, tiny tiny bit of angst
Summary: you have known Natasha pretty much your whole life and you never thought you'd end up marrying her. On your first night officially together you learn to appreciate each other in more than one way (Medieval AU)
Word count: 7.5k
Warnings: top! Natasha, bottom! R, Nat has a penis, virgin! R, arranged marriage, very brief drinking, kissing, size difference, SMUT, oral (Nat receiving), balls sucking, cum eating, nipple stimulation (R receiving), fingering (R receiving), squirting, vaginal penetration, rough sex, cumming inside, a whole lot of fluff
A/N: this story contains smut so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. Both sets of parents are shitty tbh, but I guess it's accurate to the time period? The aesthetic in my head was very much game of thrones for this one. This is so much longer than I intended!! As usual likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡
Masterlist
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It has been a long long day of making merry, a joyful celebration of honour and union for everybody, but also a dreadfully awaited day full of anger and resentment from your new spouse. You could feel it radiating off of her throughout the whole day, and the weeks prior for that matter, and the tiredness only makes her more frustrated as she walks next to you towards your now shared chambers. Her long legs and anger driven fast pace almost make it hard for you to keep up with her and for a moment the thought of telling her off crosses your mind, immediately followed by your father’s reprimanding voice, forcing you to calm down immediately. The moment the large wooden doors close behind you, the sight of the bed adorned with rich fabrics and clearly made to harbour two newly wed people makes you freeze as you can only move your eyes from to bed, to the other girl’s back on the balcony and back towards the bed. You both know what you’re expected to do and unfortunately sleeping the exhaustion away is not yet included.
In the meantime, Natasha’s blood boils even more now that all the tension she’s been holding back in favour of decency is coming back in the confinements of her, no, your private room. The thought of what she’s been forced to do only makes her feel that all too familiar anger that’s been eating her up for months now: she’s always known that she was eventually going to have to marry someone of a certain status and that the range of possible candidates was quite small, but she thought that the last word would be hers, it was promised to her! But the moment you became of age it was all clear, it was going to be you, it was always going to be you, there was never anybody else for her parents. All those times where they visited your family because of what they would say was a special friendship between them and your own parents, where she was always made to play with you, to sit next to you, to take you on walks, to talk to you, get to know you, it was all a lifelong plan to get to this very specific moment, you and her married. The fresh night air helps cool her temper as she turns around to lean against the cold stone of the balcony railing and looks at you, nervously pouring yourself a cup of deep red wine, only tasting a sip of it before repeatedly tapping the metal cup, lost in thought. She feels a lot of guilt whenever she thinks about you because, although she’s never been outwardly rude to you, it’s clear that you feel as part of her problem and that her reassurances don’t help ease your mind at all. The only people she’s deeply angry with are her parents, but seeing your sweet eyes, knowing how hopeful you’ve always been of finding a person to love for the rest of your life and that person forcibly being her, reminds her of how your lives have never truly been yours and how naive you’ve been for thinking otherwise at the empty words of reassurance coming from your parents. She knows she has to try at least, if not for her family, for you, for the respect she has for you, so she takes one last breath of fresh air to ease her nerves and walks back inside.
The smell of her favourite incense and the dim lights coming from all the candles give her a small sense of comfort as she slowly walks towards you, standing next to the table still with your wine in your hand, and pours herself her own cup, which she downs in one go.
“I was very happy to be able to catch up with Yelena, it had been a long time since I had last seen her”
At your words she looks down at you and can’t help but give you a little smile at your attempt at breaking the ice, knowing you’re not the most outgoing person
“She was very happy too, she couldn’t wait to see you”
She goes to sit on the bed as she talks, making your mind go back to that imminent moment. Seeing you nervously swallow the lump in your throat, she pats the spot next to her and intently looks at you as you set down your cup and walk towards her, taking a seat on the soft mattress: you can clearly feel the heat of her body with how close you are and secretly savour it as you both keep looking in front of you to avoid meeting your gazes. There’s a long pause where only your slightly shaky breathing and the distant sound of the celebration going on without you two can be heard, before her voice, strangely uncertain and almost a whisper, breaks the silence
“Have you ever done this before?”
You were kind of expecting it, but the question still makes your heart stop
“…kind of”
At your small voice she turns to look at you, confused by your answer
“What do you mean “kind of”?”
“I’ve done something, but not…all of it”
There’s almost guilt in your words and after reluctantly looking at her and meeting her expectant gaze, you go on
“There was someone who was always very…interested in me..”
You can feel her brain working hard and the realisation getting closer and closer until
“Wait, you don’t mean…”
You can barely give her a side look, feeling regret at your own actions from the past
“What?!”
“I know, I know!”
You really can’t look at her now, knowing her opinions on that certain Someone
“Not that asshole!”
“Yes, well, of course I didn’t listen to you and…I got used like a whore. But I’ve never been touched, if that’s what you wanted to know.”
She watches you looking down at your own fiddling hands with sympathy and sadness, knowing how genuine and even naive you can be with your selfless trust in people. Her hand on yours almost startles you and gives her the chance of taking your own in hers: you can see a small, healing cut on her knuckle and her rough palm, testimony of her constant sword training, is warm against yours, except for the two small, golden rings, which feel like ice against your own skin. The moment you take your eyes off your joined hands to look at her you find her eyes already on your face, making you look back down
“You have, right?”
“Yes, how do you know?”
You let out a small chuckle and start playing with one of her rings without even noticing, catching Natasha’s attention to the action
“You and that girl, it was quite clear, you know?”
Of course you noticed, you always did, you were almost too good at reading her considering that you didn’t see each other that often. That time, during one of her family’s visits, a girl with beautiful red hair was with her when she arrived and, although she was introduced to everybody as a normal lady in waiting, you immediately caught the glances and small touches between the two. Another moment of silence engulfs you two and you can’t keep your mind from spiraling at what’s going to happen soon. Not even Natasha’s ring is enough to keep you calm anymore, so you just let go of her hand and finally tell her what you’ve been wanting to say since you got alone. She’s still thinking about how much she surprisingly misses your hand in hers when your words startle her
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, I know you’ve never wanted any of this and I’m sorry that you were forced into it…I know that we have to do this, but you shouldn’t if you don’t want to”
Your words make her heart swell at how thoughtful you are to her, unlike her own family, before guilt takes over her once again
“I want to do this…with you. To be honest I’m happy that you’re the one I’m stuck with”
Her playful tone makes you giggle and look at her, getting caught off guard at the small traces of happiness on her face, finally getting free of that constant frown that you’ve consistently seen on her as of late. She finally looks back at you and once your eyes meet it seems like you’re really looking at each other for the first time in a while. She’s always been known to be one of the most beautiful people of the realm, so it was never that big of a shock to look in the eyes of what could easily be a goddess amongst mortals and be taken back by all that beauty and all the small details that make her so unique with nothing but adulation. You’ve never been scared of displaying your appreciation for anyone, so seeing your look of fondness towards her doesn’t surprise her at all.
On the other hand, Natasha finds herself truly entranced by you for the first time since you’ve known each other: she’s almost surprised to notice just how beautiful you are and how all those comments made by her friend, even if quite crude most of the time, were not the nonsense she made them to be.
“You do realise that anyone would pay to be in your place, right? You whine like a baby because you have to chat with her or something, it’s not like you have to marry her. And even if you did you’d get to have a go at it with her every night”
The familiar words make her grimace at the thought of such comments being made behind your back but the faint feeling of jealousy deep in her is enough to bring her mind back to you, sitting so close to her and looking up at her with such timid adoration that in that moment she can’t keep her eyes from finally moving down on their own towards your lips, looking so inviting she doesn’t even realise she’s slowly moving closer to you until the air you exhale melts together and your lips touch each other every time you breathe
“Natasha”
Your whisper ignites something inside of her and what could be considered almost curiosity makes her move just enough so that your lips are finally fully on hers in a small kiss that makes your heart beat so fast it feels like it’s trying to escape from your chest to get to Natasha. Oh Natasha, she’s the only thing that exists in that moment, just Natasha, nothing else. As soon as you part you barely have time to look into each other’s eyes and for her to admire your panting state before she’s cupping your face and leaning in once again, making you melt into the kiss while you try to turn your body towards her. You are thankful that you’re sitting on the bed, otherwise you’re sure your knees wouldn’t have been able to keep you upright. You still reach for her shoulder for support as your lips move against each other slowly, deepening the kiss more and more until you can feel her tongue on your lower lip, asking for permission and being granted it when you lightly suck it, making her moan lowly and break the kiss to catch her breath. You can’t help but admire her and reach for her hand, still under your jaw, to hold it in your own, making her open her eyes at the gentle action. In that moment, sitting on the edge of her bed so close to each other you’re almost in her lap, breathing hard from all the nervousness finally wearing off thanks to the act of newly found intimacy between you two, you truly feel the need for each other, not something necessarily carnal, but a deep need to have the only person who could really understand what you’re going through and who could support you through all of it by your side. You don’t know how much time you spend kissing, you just know that you can feel yourself grow more and more restless at her wandering hands caressing your arms with a touch so light goosebumps grow under her fingertips.
You have no idea of what has gotten into you, maybe it’s her intoxicating smell, or the way she’s now firmly holding your waist with one hand, or her frustrated sighing every time she catches her other hand searching through the seemingly never ending fabrics of your gown for a snippet of skin, or maybe it’s just all the stress you’ve been subjected to lately, but you are sure of one thing, you need to feel her, as much of her as possible.
In a spur of bravery you get on your knees on the mattress and do your best to straddle her lap without tripping over the layers of your dress, finally succeeding and finally being able to feel more of the heat coming off of her that you've been enjoying since you've sat next to one another ot the bed. Your faces are finally at the same height and for the first time you can see her enchanting emerald eyes even better. You move some small strands of hair that have fallen on her face to briefly take a better look at her, before your lips are connected once again and your hands are tangled in her hair. You can clearly feel Natasha's hands move over your back, repeatedly shifting down to the small of your back and stopping herself from going lower, making you whine as you take her hands and move them to your ass, getting a small groan out of her at your sudden boldness. She's finally able to reach your skin, after not so little effort of going through the fabrics of your skirt, when your lips leave hers to move down to her jaw and neck, leaving shy pecks hiding the deep hunger you suddenly feel for her. The gentle touch of your mouth on the sensitive skin of her neck and your small unconscious movements over her crotch start making it hard for her to hold back to let you go at your own pace. She loses control just for a second once you feel something poking your center and ground your hips over it with a little bit more will with a small muffled moan, and she moves her hands towards your front to try to reach for your breasts but fails to do so
"Damn dress"
The frustration of once again not being able to get to your skin almost makes her growl the words, getting your attention and making you stop yourself to look at her expectantly
"Sorry, it's just always in the way"
"Well…would you help me get out if it then?"
The clear contrast from your previous slightly daring demeanour and now your usual shy tone interests her and after a nod from her you get up from her lap and stand in front of her, still sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you turning around and asking her to loosen up the laces of your fitting dress. The pads of her fingers briefly go over the skin of your back where the fabric ends as she reaches for it, making you not so subtly shiver at the anticipation you now feel, in clear contrast with the almost fearful nervousness that dominated you once you first got alone with her. Once she's done with her task you slide your arms out of the sleeves and are finally able to feel the fabric slide down your body and stop at your hips, catching some resistance at the tight fitting and exposing your torso to the cool night air coming from the balcony. Your hair put in an intricate updo gives her a clear view of the creamy skin of your back and makes Natasha feel even more anticipation once your hands move to your hips to push the dress past them to let it slide down your body, leaving it a heap of embroided fabric on the ground. You once again feel your heart beating out of your chest at your now fully naked body exposed to Natasha and you suddenly seem to be frozen in place, not able to turn around and fully face her. Her warm hand gently touching yours startles you but the following sound of her voice immediately puts you at ease a little
"Wait, let me do something"
You immediately miss her hand once it leaves yours and soon after you hear her getting up from the bed and moving a little to do something. After a little bit she gently puts her hand on your shoulder and rubs her thumb over your skin to hopefully help soothe your nerves before speaking in the most gentle tone you've ever heard from her
"Remember that you don't have to"
She's the first person to tell you that. Since your birthday all your life has been revolving around this marriage, everything you've been made to do has been in favour of this event, most of the things your parents have said to you lately were commands on what you needed to do in order to be a good and honouring daughter. She's the first one to tell you such a thing, she's the first one to give you a choice in a situation where you've never had one, she's the first one to see you as a person in this circumstance and not as trade goods. She understands you and she understands the way you feel because she's gone through the same. You're on the same level. You suddenly turn around to look at her and for a second you almost miss the way she's completely naked too, taking you by surprise at her bare body
"This way we can both see each other"
She once again talks with that gentle and caring tone that this time makes your heart swell a little just for her. Your loving gaze is lost in her entrancing eyes when her hand slowly takes yours and moves it higher and higher, leaving it on her chest and making you feel the faint beating of her heart, soothing you for a moment, also thanks to the tiny reassuring smile she gives you. You do the same to show her your willingness to put all of yourself in this with her and take her hand and put it on your own chest. You don't say a word but you understand each other surprisingly well, making you both for once relieved of such a marriage and the chance of being one another's companion instead of some stranger. It's true, in all the years of knowing each other you've never been extremely close but you've certainly never hated one other. Sure, sometimes Natasha may have been annoyed at having to spend time with you but it was mainly because she was once again forced to do something by her parents. In all honesty, being with you always ended up helping her get over her irritation. You once again catch yourself getting lost in thought while fidgeting with her golden necklace with her family's sigil on it, but clearly catch the warmth of her hand leaving your chest to lightly caress your cheek before gently pushing under your chin to lift your gaze to her
"I need you by my side"
Her whispered words are barely audible but sound crystal clear to you
"Always"
You know that, from now on, you're the only two people who can help the other, you need to be strong for each other.
Before you know it her hands hold you on each side of your face to kiss you once again, taking your breath away at the need you both feel for the other. Her hands soon move down to your back to pull you flush against her front, getting you the closest you've ever been and making you reach for her shoulders to hold onto. The feeling of her soft skin against yours seems to never be enough and you realize you're pushing her to get impossibly closer too late, only when her back hits the mattress and you almost land on top of her
"Sorry-"
She doesn't let you finish before she's pulling you in again to keep your mouth on hers and she's grabbing your ass for the first time once you fully straddle her hips, making you whimper at the intimate act. You're both breathless, you know it, and the last thing you want is to stop kissing, but you need to take a small break and, once you part, you take the chance to sit up and unmake your updo, letting your hair fall down your back, taking out as many of the golden pieces of jewellery in it as you can and letting the smaller braids here and there done not to waste any more time. You're aware of your position and you secretly savour the way Natasha grips your thighs at the feeling of your bare center on hers. Feeling slightly confident you lean down to give her one last kiss on the lips before moving downwards, leaving small pecks on her neck, collarbone and chest, and then leaving her lap to get to her abs and lower abdomen, looking up at her after noticing her breathing quickening a little bit and catching her slightly clouded eyes looking back you. Right before being able to kneel down she offers you one of the many pillows from the bed, preventing you from being in pain from kneeling on the hard stone floor and puts another one under her head to get a better view of you between her legs.
The anticipation takes over the nervousness you feel at the sight of her semi hard cock in front of you and before you can get too anxious you reach with your hand to wrap around it, slowly pumping it a couple times and immediately getting a small, low moan from Natasha. You're not sure you've ever heard anything hotter than that and the excitement from making her feel good makes you more and more eager to please her as best as you can, so you keep moving your hand up and down until she's fully hard and a small bead of precum has formed, looking too tempting not to taste and making you reach over to give a small lick to her tip. You moan from finally being able to taste at least a little bit of her and at the same time Natasha hisses at the feeling of your tongue on her making her twitch.
You don't think you can wait anymore after getting a glimpse of her, so you get comfortable and finally fully wrap your lips around her tip, gently sucking it for a bit, if not to get yourself used to it, then to hear her groans again and again. Her hand moving towards your head excites you more than you'd like to admit and you'd lie if you denied the small disappointment you feel when it gets to your hair just to keep it out of the way with a makeshift ponytail. You realize it, you want her, all of her and she needs to know, so to try and make her understand it, feeling too embarrassed to say it to her face, you take more and more of her, doing your best to relax your throat and not gag too much around her surprisingly girthy cock. Her pants turn into loud groans once you do your best to look up at her as you slowly take all of her down your throat in one go, stopping only when your nose hits her crotch and staying like that for a couple seconds before lifting yourself off of it and sucking a deep breath while a string of spit still connects your mouth to her tip. To give your throat a small break you keep pumping her with your hand while you move downwards to lick her balls a couple times before taking one at a time in your mouth and very gently sucking them, making her curse out loud and sending a shiver through your whole body at the sound.
After a little bit you go back to her cock to take it back in your mouth, moaning at her taste and making her grip your hair tighter at the vibrations of your voice on her. You know she's close and you know you want her to take her orgasm from you herself, so you reach for her hand and make it lay flat on top of your head, before giving it a small push, hopefully making her understand what you want. She does, oh she does. After letting out a breathy chuckle at your eagerness she looks at you go back to your ministrations and guides you through it, making you take more and more of her until she's pushing you all the way down her cock and your gagging and her groans are all that can be heard in the room. She's close, so close and you know it, so you open your eyes to look back at her and meet her gaze already on you, before you reach for her balls to lightly fondle them, making her reach her orgasm in a couple more thrusts and finally feeling her cum in your mouth. You gently keep sucking her tip through her high until she's fully done and takes her cock out of your mouth
"Show me"
You don't expect her words but feel excitement when you open your mouth to show her all her cum on your tongue, and she bites her lip at the view
"Good, go on"
Her voice, still panting, and her taste as you swallow all of her cum makes your center ache like never before, even more so when you open your now empty mouth to show her that you've done it and she smirks
"Very good, you've done so well for me"
Her praise makes you smile at her and you can't keep yourself from climbing on the bed to kiss her briefly before she moves to make you lie down with your head resting comfortably on the fluffy pillows while she positions herself between your legs. Your new position gives you the perfect opportunity to fully explore her body, feeling her defined muscles under her velvety skin with every brush of your hands over her shoulders, her arms, her abs, her back, her ass, her thighs. She looks even more godly now, looming over you with her large, sculpted frame, looking quite bigger than you, and essentially trapping you between her and the bed. You don't feel trapped though, you feel safe and free, as you lie under her, with the knowledge that she's not here to take something from you, but to have an exchange, that she's accepting what you have to offer with a deep respect for you and your relationship.
The small traces of boldness you felt when you were pleasuring her disappear, as doubt takes over your mind: will you do a good enough job? Will she like your body? Will the fact that you're new to some things make her lose her excitement?
She immediately senses your uncertainty and can almost see your racing thoughts behind your eyes, getting her a little worried
"Are you alright?"
"I just…I don't know what to do now"
You can't even meet her gaze as you almost whisper the words, her constant and extremely casual confidence making it hard for you to admit your helplessness
"Let me do it then, hm?"
She waits for you to look at her and nod back before giving you a sweet smile and laying her palm on your cheek, savouring the way you subtly snuggle into its warmth, making her heart swell at how small you look right now. She leans down and kisses you gently over and over until she feels your tense body relaxing little at a time under hers and, once she feels you slacken, she finally lets her hands wander, gently gliding them over your body as if to not only lull you further, but also to imprint its curves and feel into her own mind. It's only once your breathing quickens and you kiss her more hungrily that she lets herself tentatively reach closer and closer to your chest, cupping your breasts once your hands tighten on her biceps to pull her closer.
The breathy whimper you let out once she lightly swaps her thumbs over your nipples, breaking your kiss, makes her even more excited and curious to find out what other sweet noises she can get out of you, so she moves her lips over your neck, leaving kisses here and there to find your sweet spot and indulging herself into leaving visible marks over your skin, getting spurred even more by your nails slightly scratching over her back and the subtle rocking of your hips. Moving lower and lower she finally comes face to face with your chest and feels pride at the sight of your already panting state, getting even more determined to make you feel as much as she can, so she finally wraps her lips around your right nipple, making you moan out loud and grip her hair harder than you intended. If she's able to make you feel so euphoric even with the simplest of touches, you can't even imagine how you're going to keep yourself grounded later on.
Your body feels like it's on fire and every single snippet of your skin that comes in contact with hers makes you long for her more and more.
She spends quite some time paying attention to your chest, sucking your nipples and the skin around, certainly getting it bruised and sending even more shivers through your body at the thought of being marked by her.
You're so lost in the moment that you don't feel one of her hands leaving its place on your breast to move lower, startling you when it makes contact with your very inner thigh, still wet from you previously rubbing it with the other while on your knees. She sucks your nipple on last time before kissing you while propping one of your legs over her hip and slowly gliding the pads of her fingers up your thigh, getting closer and closer to their destination and making your anticipation grow like never before. The moment her fingers get right below your hip bone she parts from you and looks you dead in the eye, searching for any sign for her to stop and when you give her a small nod she finally lets herself touch you, gently running her fingers up and down your surprisingly soaked slit, making you gasp at the contact and sending a wave of arousal through both of you.
Soon enough, after getting used to the feeling of someone else's hands on the most private part of your body, you can't help yourself from slightly rolling your hips in search of something, anything more, so she finally moves her ministrations directly over your clit, rubbing it slowly in circular motions and making you moan more loudly than you expected. You get even more excited at the feeling of her cock twitching on your thigh every time you moan for her, so you take one hand out of her hair and move it down to grab and pump her, making her hiss at the feeling of your hand back on her, while she keeps touching your clit and occasionally lower, closer to your entrance. You immediately miss her once her fingers leave your center as she gets them closer to your mouth
"Taste yourself"
The rasp behind her voice almost makes you miss her actual words at how hot it sounds, but you're still barely able to make out their meaning, so you grab her hand and suck on her wet fingers, moaning at the taste of your own arousal on your tongue and the feeling of her fingers in your mouth. Once you've sucked them clean and gotten them wet, she takes them out of your mouth and moves them back to your clit, rubbing it one last time before gently probing at your entrance and slowly pushing a finger inside, looking for any sign of discomfort from you before adding another one at the sight of none. You can barely whine as you bite your lip to prevent yourself from moaning too loudly, feeling embarrassed at how your cunt tries to suck her fingers in by tightening around them over and over. Once she's knuckle deep inside of you, you let out a deep breath at the faint pulsing of your clit against the palm of her hand, and look at her with watery eyes at the pleasure you feel even from her fingers staying still inside of you, giving away your extreme arousal when you tighten around her from a small kiss on your lips
"Can I move?"
She whispers her words but you can clearly understand her and quickly nod with big pleading eyes
"Please!"
She can't help but groan at your enthusiasm and barely moves her fingers in and out of you, focusing more on massaging your front wall little by little, getting you used to the sensation and making herself even more frustrated each time she feels your walls spasm around her fingers instead of her cock. She's been extremely patient since you've first gotten on your knees for her and the need to take you and feel you has been eating her up more and more, but the last thing she wants is to make you feel pressured by her, the last person you should feel unsafe with, so she does her best to keep herself grounded and fully focuses on you.
She gradually keeps increasing the pressure of the pad of her fingers on the spongy spot inside of you she easily found, making you embarrassed by the lewd, wet noises that come from your center with each stroke of her fingers and only getting you out of your own head with a particularly hard thrust that gets you freely moaning and tightly gripping the sheets under you. The muscles of her arm get even more defined from the task at hand and her breathing starts shaking from your wet walls engulfing her digits so tightly and the look of ecstasy on your features as she essentially takes your breath away. You're so close, so close to finally cumming undone for her for the first time, so close to the sweetest release
"Natasha! I'm-"
You can barely call her name before your orgasm crushes over you like a tidal wave at full force and runs through your whole body. She can't keep herself from basically growling at just how tight your walls regularly spasm around her fingers and the sight of small droplets of clear liquid coming out of you with every thrust, wetting her wrist and creating a small patch on the sheets under you. It takes you a bit to get down from your orgasm and once it stops, you can't help but sob from how intense it was, slightly shaking from time to time from the aftershocks
"Are you alright? Was it too much?"
There's genuine worry in her voice and eyes and you feel the need to kiss her, hopefully freeing her of her concerns as well
"It was perfect, Natasha"
You barely get to mumble the words against her lips before you need to kiss her again and again until your heart doesn't feel like it's beating out of your chest anymore. She uses your moment of blissed distraction to take her fingers out of you, trying not to cause too much discomfort and breaks the kiss to suck her fingers clean, lowly moaning at your taste on her tongue for the first time.
The sight makes the desire you've been feeling, that's never truly left you yet, come back at full force, startling you at how easily she's able to cause such waves of arousal to run through you.
You can't wait anymore, you need to feel more of her inside of you so bad you might just cry if you can't have her immediately and, based on her hungry eyes and fully erect cock, she might be feeling just the same
"I need you inside of me Natasha"
If your mind wasn't clouded by such want you'd feel embarrassed by your own words and the extreme neediness in your voice, but you simply can't bring yourself to care about it right now and whine at the loss of her body's warmth once she leans back on her knees. You're at a loss for words once you give yourselves time to truly look at each other's naked bodies for the first time and not even the way she grabs your waist to gently slide you down the bed a little bit before putting a pillow under your ass is enough to get you distracted from the perfect sight in front of you. You're finally pulled out of your trance once she makes your thighs rest on top of hers and gets you to automatically wrap your legs behind her back, giving her easy access to your center. Her cock sitting heavy on top of your mound makes you just a little anxious at how big it looks near you, but, sensing your doubt, she immediately takes one of your hands and kisses its back as to hopefully soothe you
"We're going at your pace"
Her words do help you a little but you still feel incredibly nervous, so much so that it seems like you suddenly get aware of every single thing near or on you, the cold golden earrings near your jaw, the soft fabric against your back, the slightest breeze of cooler air over your arm-
"You don't have to…not tonight if you don't want"
Her words, accompanied with a soft rub over your knee finally get your mind back to the moment and remind you, once again, that you can trust her and she won't judge you for anything
"I want it! I want it…"
You reach for her thigh to lightly squeeze it as to further reassure her and, once she gives you a brief nod, you smile at her and very slightly move your hips back and forth to feel her cock slide over your clit, signaling to her that you're more than ready. Natasha feels anticipation like never before once she grabs her own cock and moves her hips back a little to line it up with your entrance, making you tighten around nothing at the lewd sight of her spitting on it to get it all wet before grabbing your hips and slowly pushing in the head.
Your mouth opens in shock at the surprisingly not painful yet still almost extreme stretch and your eyes are pulled away from the sight of your centers getting closer to each other the more she pushes inside, at the sound of her voice as she curses under her breath. Your walls feel even tighter than they did around her fingers and it's really hard for her to keep herself from taking you immediately, but of course your comfort is her first priority at the moment, so, once she's fully inside of you, she stops for a bit, waiting for you to feel comfortable enough for her to move. On the other hand, the pleasure she makes you feel already starts clouding your mind and at the feeling of her staying still, completely inside of you, you can't help but let your head fall back on the mattress and let out a loud whine before looking up at her with pleading eyes
"Please Natasha! I'm ready, I promise! Please!"
That's it, there's no going back now.
She squeezes your hips quite hard as she slowly pulls out to the tip, pushing back inside a bit more quickly and going like this over and over, making you moan a bit more each time, until she sets a steady pace, getting lost in the feeling of your walls wrapped around her. You barely realize it when you're suddenly moving one of your legs to prop it on her shoulder, making her reach different spots than before, sending shock waves through your body and making you squeeze her tighter. Intent on making you feel even better, she almost immediately takes your other leg from her hip and puts it over her other shoulder, ripping a loud moan out of you from the feeling of her cock now reaching your sweet spot more easily with each thrust. The sight of your hands going from gripping the bed sheets to playing with your own nipples makes her throb inside of you and, needing to go even deeper into you, even if impossible, she lets go of your hips and puts her hands on each side of your head, getting as much leverage as she can, while still keeping your legs against her shoulders, to set a new pace, slower but with much harder thrusts, essentially knocking your breath away at the force with which her hips meet yours
"You're so beautiful"
Unfortunately you can barely register her words and find it impossible to form a single word, but try to find her wrist next to your face to give it a squeeze and hopefully make her understand if not that you think the same, at least that you appreciate her telling you that.
You know that in a short time it'll be almost impossible for you to keep yourself from tumbling into another breathtaking orgasm and you try your best to tell her, even though you know she's probably already aware of it by the way your cunt keeps squeezing her more and more
"I'm! I'm going to-"
She was waiting for you to say it yourself and hearing your straining voice trying to get the words out gets her close as well and, before she knows it, she's leaning down on her forearms, basically trapping you under her and reaching impossibly deeper inside of you
"Fuck Natasha!"
You didn't think her thrusts could get any harder, but you were wrong, her rough movements and panting groans right next to your ear are too much for you and get you to an orgasm even harder than the one before in only a couple of seconds. She tries her best to keep herself from cumming to keep thrusting into you and help you through your high, but your desperate moans, your nails raking over her back and your cunt squeezing her impossibly tight make it impossible for her to keep her orgasm from crushing over her. Her clear groans, the feeling of her cum deep inside of you and her, already balls deep, trying in vain to thrust even more into you, send an almost painful pang of arousal deep in you, pulling the last bit of energy out of you and leaving you limp under her large body.
Once her breathing has gone back to somewhat normal she finally lifts herself from her spot and comes face to face with you and only then, after you slightly hiss at her movement, she remembers that she's still inside of you
"Sorry"
There's a light sheen of sweat over her whole body, her mane of hair is tousled and her eyebrows are furrowed as she leans back to slowly pull out, trying not to make you feel too much pain also by gently running her hand up and down your side, making your heart swell at the sweetness behind her action. For a brief moment she looks slightly entranced by the sight of her cum slowly sliding out of you but soon moves away to let herself fall on her back next to you quite ungracefully, making you chuckle at her very non-regal manner. A comfortable silence falls between you two as you savour this moment of serenity and only now you notice how some of the many candles have died out, making the room feel even cozier.
Your droopy eyelids keep closing on their own accord, as exhaustion slowly starts taking over the both of you, but, right before you can drift off completely, her hand reaches over to hold yours one last time and her tired voice breaks the serene silence
"I'm very happy you're the one by my side"
.
.
.
Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox
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marlynnofmany · 3 months ago
Text
One More Earth Animal -- Part Two
(Part One is here)
Fernando Hwan Tengku-Jones was expecting a cat. His friend on the colony world had said they were sending one that somebody’d left behind — poor thing! —and Fern couldn’t wait to give it a good home. He’d already cat-proofed his quarters as best he could. Fragile things were put away, his reading lamp was secured to the bedside table, and he’d grabbed a few cardboard boxes from the recycle stash that would make good hidey-holes. A litter box should be available somewhere in this space station’s commerce sector — he’d been here before. He could check after the drop-off. As much as he would have liked to get that set up first, he wasn’t in charge of the schedule.
His Frillian crewmates were curious about the companion animal that the captain was allowing him to bring onboard. He’d spent the last half of the trip telling them every story about cats he could think of. Each of them rippled their frills in patient disinterest, but he didn’t mind. They’d be won over by the adorable kitty soon enough.
When the ship docked at their usual berth, Fern did his part in helping unload the usual shipment. The specialty maintenance shop here always ordered the same stuff at this time of the rotation. Everything was normal. But then Fern got to dash off to meet another ship, and he was more excited than he’d been in a long time.
He called ahead, and was told to meet at the cargo bay door. When he arrived, he saw that this ship was unloading boxes as well. He didn’t see any logos anywhere, and the boxes weren’t even all the same kind, plus the crew wasn’t wearing uniforms.
Looks like one of those freelance setups, he thought while he patiently waited at a distance. That always sounded like such an unreliable way to make a living. But at least they get to travel to interesting places. Where there are cats!
When the crew finished handing the motley assortment of boxes off to a motley assortment of customers, the one with the tablet waved him over. This was a cute little lizard who probably wouldn’t want to be described that way. As yellow as a very serious banana. She called into the ship for somebody else to come out, and Fern was delighted to see another human carrying a cat-sized cage.
“Hello!” the other human said, waving her free hand. “I have something important to tell you about your new friend here.”
Fern was immediately worried. “Is it injured? Or pregnant?” His captain had approved a single animal, not a litter.
“Thankfully, no!” she replied, setting down the cage with the front turned away from him. “First of all, he’s perfectly healthy and perfectly tame. And he’s been fixed. But most importantly, his stink gland has been removed.”
“His what?” Fern thought of his aunt’s cat who had stunk up the house by scent-marking the walls. Wasn’t that just pee, not a gland?
“Congratulations,” the other human said. “You are the proud owner of a non-spraying skunk.”
“A what?” Fern said on reflex, processing her words.
She lifted the cage and turned it so he could see inside. “This is the friendliest little snuggle buddy, and he likes being brushed.”
Fern stared. A very fluffy skunk stared back. While most of his brain was still circling in shock, the thought surfaced that the animal really did seem tame: not threatening to spray even though its gland had been removed. Theoretically.
He asked, “You’re sure it’s completely de-stinked?”
“Yes.” The other human nodded. “Our medscanner is top-notch. And I spent a lot of time with him on the trip here; I’m certain he was hand-raised as a pet. No idea how the poor guy ended up in the middle of nowhere, but he more than deserves a loving home. Think you can give him that?”
Fern’s heart twinged, and he shook himself. “Yes, absolutely. Did he come with a name?”
The other human smiled. “Nope! That’s up to you. I’ve been calling him Fluffy, but that’s just a placeholder.”
“Seems pretty accurate,” Fern said, gazing through the bars.
The yellow lizard stepped forward with the digital paperwork. Fern signed for the skunk, his thoughts in a whirl.
“If you’re already set up with cat food, good news: skunks will eat that,” the other human told him. “They’re omnivores, so this guy will eat a lot of the same stuff you do, just try to keep it as close to nature as you can out in space: plain and not overly processed. He’ll love peanut butter and chicken eggs if you can get them. Oh, and keep him away from the usual list of Crazy Human Toxic Foods! No chocolate, onions, garlic, or caffeine. Or hot peppers, though that’s more unpleasant than poisonous for him.”
“Right,” Fern said, handing the tablet back. “Good to know; thank you.”
“Sure thing! I hope you guys have a long and happy life together.” She presented him with the cage and gave his uniform a look. “Merchant ship, right?”
“Talented Toolmakers, of Frillian Pride,” Fern recited automatically as he accepted the armload of skunk. “I got hired when the route changed to spend more time in human territory. But then it changed back, and I haven’t seen much from home lately.”
“Well this guy’s glad to have you,” the other human said. The lizard was already walking back into the ship. “We have to rush off to another delivery, but good luck! Skunks can get into places they shouldn’t, and claw things open that a cat wouldn’t be able to, so keep him away from the engine room.”
“Got it!” Fern waved goodbye as the other human trotted back onto her ship. While the bay doors closed, Fern took careful steps back toward his own.
He expected his crewmates to react in alarm at the news that his cat was a skunk … but he’d forgotten that they were unfamiliar with Earth animals.
“If it can’t make that smell, and it isn’t going to bite anyone, then I don’t see a problem,” the captain said. “Just keep it in your quarters while it gets settled in. You can bring it out under supervision later.”
“It really is as fluffy as you said,” remarked the engineer.
“What does it eat?” asked the pilot.
Fern replied, “A lot of the same things I do.”
“That’s convenient!” the pilot said. The others agreed.
And that was that. Fern took the skunk into his quarters, let it waddle around and sniff everything, then fed it a messy plate of cat food. He put a folded hand towel in the cage and gently stuffed the skunk back in so he could run off to buy a litter box without worrying about what it would do while he was gone.
He splurged on a fancy litter box with a covered top and an auto-scooper, designed for ship’s cats. When he set it up and opened the cage, the skunk went right for it, which was a relief.
Probably a relief for him too, Fern thought. He’s been in that cage a while.
The captain announced that they were taking off. Fern settled down to socialize with his new pet, confident that he wouldn’t be needed for a while yet. Their route was predictable, after all, and this next part involved a lot of empty space before they reached the warehouse.
A lot of empty space, and pirates.
Human ones according to the intercom, which just made the whole thing more insulting. This was NOT the taste of home he’d been missing. The captain’s announcement held a lot of profanity, and Fern could see why. It was bad enough to be shaken down when they had cargo they could be reimbursed for, but right now their hold was empty. And the pirates wouldn’t accept that.
They’ll want our own tools, Fern thought, looking around his quarters. And food, and fuel, and… His gaze fell on the skunk nosing about his bookshelf.
And fuck them.
He lunged for the intercom button. “Captain, if you’re sure they’re human, I have an idea.”
Several minutes later, the pirate ship locked onto the merchant vessel, and clamped an adapter over the airlock. Pirates gathered, ready to board, armed with guns and knives and vicious grins.
Those grins evaporated when the first pirate looked through the airlock porthole at what waited for them on the other side.
One lone human, wearing a breather helmet and carrying a fluffy, agitated skunk.
The pirates detached immediately and took off with enough thrust to rock the ship.
The pilot got the merchant vessel back on course, while the captain sang praises over the intercom, and Fern brought Fluffy the Fearsome back to his room for some well-earned brushing.
The next time that particular merchant ship passed through the area, it had a large emblem of a skunk pasted next to the company logo.
~~~
These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.
Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.
The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).
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cosmowgyral · 14 days ago
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Falling into Sin with the Black Tiger ~ Gilbert's 4th Birthday
▪︎ Chapter 1
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This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!
CW- smut, mentions of blood
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As the end of the year approached, a significant day was about to arrive.
Gilbert: What do I want to do?
Emma: That’s right. Can you please tell me anything?
I was sitting on my knees on the bed, wiping Gilbert’s hair with linen after his bath.
I wanted to give the impression that I was only casually probing….at least that’s what I thought.
Gilbert: Hehe, you’re a man of your word, that’s impressive, isn’t it?
Gilbert: You’re celebrating me again this year.
(I was found out in an instant.)
Emma: I promised you last year.
----*flashback*----
Emma: I’ll definitely celebrate with you again next year.
Gilbert: Hehe, I get it. As long as you’re you, I’ll celebrate.
----*flashback ends*----
Emma: I think it’s going to be an annual event from now on.
Gilbert: Ahaha, I never thought you would say something like that after I came home covered in blood.
(….I guess it wasn’t just my imagination after all.)
A little while ago, when Gilbert returned, he smelled of blood and gunpowder.
There were no visible bloodstains because his clothes were all black, but that couldn’t fool my nose, which has become capable of detecting such ominous scents.
(Gilbert always warns me.)
(So I don’t commit a sin unconsciously.)
Emma: …I always think about it.
Emma: Every time you come home covered in blood, I feel glad that you are safe.
Emma: ….I think about that before I even start thinking about whose blood you shed.
(Controlling evil with evil. I understand that this is Prince Gilbert’s way….)
(And yet, I pray every single day for his safety.)
Gilbert: Hehe, sorry. I was being mean again. I was just happy to be celebrated by you.
Gilbert, who had been facing forward, turned around and kissed me lightly on my cheeks.
Gilbert: I won’t say it again.
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Gilbert: But I think asking me about what I want to do is stupid.
Gilbert: I love you a lot, so just being able to be with you like this fulfills most of my wishes.
Emma: Please be more greedy and villainous.
Gilbert: Am I not greedy enough?
Emma: It’s not enough at all. I want you to wish for something that’s different than usual since it’s a special day.
Gilbert: ..mmmm…
Gilbert: ….I feel like I’m facing the biggest challenge of my life.
(Is it that much!?)
Gilbert, while groaning as if in deep thought, wraps his hand around my head and gently pulls me closer.
He playfully pecks my lips several times, and before I knew it, I was pushed down onto the bed.
(…..Huh?)
Gilbert: What’s wrong?
Even though his words sound thoughtful, Gilbert pulls down my negligee and kisses my exposed skin, and I don’t get an answer to my question.
Emma: A..are you really thinking about it?
Gilbert: I am thinking about it. I am thinking about it harder than ever.
Gilbert: Are you questioning my sincerity, little rabbit? That’s cruel.
Gilbert smiles as he gently bites my collarbone. My breasts are played with by the tip of his tongue, and my hot and sweet breaths, melt away.
Gilbert: What do I really want?
(Maybe Gilbert isn’t used to these kind of things.)
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When I touch his slightly damp hair, he snuggles up to me, like he wants to be petted.
I get carried away and ruffle his hair, and then our lips meet again.
(…Let’s wait patiently.)
(There’s still a lot of things to do for the day.)
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ𔘓 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
In Obsidian, which is known as the land of minerals, gems can be found all over the city.
There seems to be a particularly strong sales campaign going on before Christmas, with special stalls lined up before the stores.
In Rhodolite, gemstones are something that only the aristocratic people have access to. But here, they are familiar to all the people, regardless of their social status.
(This is troublesome….)
(I wanted to give Gilbert some stones, but with this many varieties it is difficult.)
To Gilbert, who is a member of the royal family, jewels are not valuable at all.
However, he had told me about it some time back, on my birthday.
In Obsidian, it is customary to gift jewels on special occasions. The more loved you are, the more jewels you’ll have around you in your final moments.
(I’m the only one who can gift a jewel to Gilbert.)
(I’ve decided that I will definitely give this to him, regardless of his wishes.)
(…..I did decide that but…..)
Sapphires, topaz, diamonds, rubies, emeralds….
Even when I look at these beautiful gemstones, I can’t find anything I associate with Gilbert.
(Rather than worrying about it alone, I should ask an expert. Maybe they can give me some advice.)
Emma: Excuse me. I’m looking for a birthday gift and I want to know what’s popular right now.
Jeweller: Oh, in that case----
Jeweller: ….ngh…
(……)
(….I’ve gotten used to this reaction.)
The pale eyes of the jeweller stare deep into mine.
He might be sensing an unusual murderous intent.
Emma: …..I’m sorry. I’ll think about it myself.
I quickly left the store and went down an unseen ally.
Emma: Gil, are you there?
Gilbert: Ahaha, I was found right away.
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[Masterlist] [Chapter 2]
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causticsodaa · 6 days ago
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What I personally think is behind Suo’s eyepatch: A Delusional Theory
The title explains itself (heed the disclaimer please), so I’ll get straight to the point.
Firstly, I believe that Suo is blind in his right eye.
Typically, eyepatches are mainly worn by people who
Are recovering from surgery
Cosplay
Have eye trauma or are half-blind
The first point is immediately negated, since it’s confirmed that Suo has been wearing an eyepatch on his right eye since middle school at the earliest. I doubt that even the most extensive eye surgeries would need him to be wearing one for years on end. Most eyepatches are made out of adhesive material, whilst Suo’s is made out of leather. I won’t dwell on this point much since I don’t think this outcome is very likely, but I just wanted to bring it up anyways (lol).
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The second point could be plausible, considering that Suo voluntarily draws attention to his eyepatch in his introduction, even stating that there is “an ancient Chinese spirit sealed” in it—there’s a story behind it.
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However, Nirei’s question immediately disproves this. Nii Satoru is a very deliberate writer; I don’t think there would be any reason to include Nirei’s dialogue about a ‘past accident’ (more on this later) if it wasn’t meant to serve as foreshadowing or at least be somewhat true.
Theres also the fact that Suo directly agrees with Nirei’s claim, though his wording is very vague (ie. it’s what other people say rather than Suo himself confirming it).
I believe this scene is mainly meant to showcase Suo’s goofy side (backed by Nirei’s comment about expecting Suo to be more cold/aloof and with Suo introducing himself as Leonardo di Caprio); but I also assume that he decided to make up a story about his eye because he’s been questioned about it many times in the past. It’s obviously not true, but I don’t think that Suo would voluntarily wear an eyepatch for years on end just to look cool (not to mention the depth perception issues!).
It’s also important to note that Nirei’s information is scarily accurate as well. He even figured out that Suo hated natto despite how secretive the latter is, but I digress.
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This leads me to the third point, which is what most of the fandom (myself included) speculates. However, I’ll be focusing more on the prospect of Suo being half-blind.
If Suo is blind in his white eye, he would have a white iris. Although many blind characters in anime/animation have their eyes closed or just lack pupils, some do have white/clear/sheen irises:
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Additionally, some people who are blind do have ‘milky’ eyes in real life!
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Even other animanga characters who wear eyepatches have some sort of eye trauma (if they aren’t pirates/concealing some power/forced to give their eyeball up for a contract, though WBK isn’t that kind of story) such as Hange Zoë and Asuka Langely Soryu.
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Personally, I believe that Suo had injured his right eye in the past to the point of blindness, given with the evidence presented before. I can’t really provide any theories as to how this happened due to a lack of canon evidence, but it’s probably linked to why he tells Nirei to never close his eyes. It’s highly probable his right eye is linked to a traumatic incident of his past—though anything further related to Suo’s backstory prompts an entirely different conversation.
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Theres also a possibility that Suo might have been born half blind as well, and uses his eyepatch to protect/cover it; though it’s merely speculation on my part (and I’ll talk about this theory more in a bit).
You’ve probably noticed that I’m drawing a lot of attention to the color of Suo’s right eye, rather than the cause of his blind eye. This is where my theory gets delusional.
Let me bring in our beloved protagonist of Wind Breaker; Sakura Haruka!
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Wait, isn’t this a theory about Suo? What does Sakura have to do with Suo’s eye?
Although Sakura and Suo do have their stark differences, they’re also eerily similar (and this criteria applies to Suo + Nirei and Sakura + Nirei as well). The most prominent thing they have in common [design wise] are their ‘abnormal’ eyes (with Sakura having heterochromia, and Suo with only one eye visible), and how they’re somehow linked to some sort of past trauma. I (albeit briefly) went over how Suo’s right eye connects with a potentially traumatic incident earlier, so I’ll be focusing on Sakura in the meantime.
In the beginning of the anime, we see snippets of dialogue by people from Sakura’s past, which mainly consisted of a barrage of criticism and rude remarks towards him. This line in particular stands out to me:
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Japanese society is very conformative both in real life and what we see in Sakura’s memories—being unique or looking different from the norm is 🆖. We see different people in the series poke fun at Sakura’s hair, but I feel like this comment hurts the most. You can’t exactly change your eye color easily without contacts, unlike hair in which you can style/dye it as you please (though I’m not trying to justify the mistreatment Sakura has experienced by comparing apples and oranges; simply put, it’s incredibly vile).
Because of the above, Sakura has been consistently ostracized in the past mainly due to his ‘weird’ appearance. This causes him to internalize those sentiments for years on end before coming to Furin. He then begins to project his insecurities externally throughout the manga whether it relates to his leadership skills or how he interacts with the other students (initially questioning why people can accept him given his ‘strange’ appearance and mannerisms). There’s also this:
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Sakura used to cover his hair and eyes with hats/sunglasses, however it failed to work as people still avoided him. This is even shown in the anime!
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Poor kid took all those comments to heart and internalized it to the point it essentially crippled his self-esteem—but who wouldn’t, honestly? Being constantly alienated and perceived as ‘disgusting’ by others causes a sense of distrust to a person, especially during their developmental stages (as Sakura experienced most of this as a child/teen), hence why I’m classifying this as traumatic for Sakura. Even though he’s in a better place now, the ghosts of his past still haunt and affect him to this day.
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Since Suo + Sakura are written to foil/parallel each other at times, there is a chance that Suo might have also covered his eye for a similar reason to Sakura’s: he doesn’t want other people to know he is blind (either to not be perceived as weak, or Suo was ashamed of for a different reason—perhaps other people thought his blind eye was scary?). Maybe Suo was born with a blind eye, much like how Sakura was born with a “half and half” appearance.
As I’ve mentioned before, Sakura has heterochromia (wow no shit Sherlock); his left eye is yellow, while his right is black[ish-grey] (his eye is sometimes colored a light grey/blue but thats usually a stylistic choice)
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Both Sakura and Suo’s character colors are based off their left eyes: Sakura’s being an amber and Suo’s being red (rather than mainly sappanwood but its a shade of red anyways—and Suo is usually represented with a bold red in other official/merch art so shhhh)
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And if we were to follow my theory, Suo would hypothetically have a milky colored right eye and a red iris for his left as in canon. Do you see where I’m going with this?
Both Sakura and Suo would have their character color as their right eye (amber and red respectively), while their left eyes (black and white) would contrast each other. Black and white are considered opposites, after all.
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If my (delulu) theory holds true, this could perfectly showcase Suo and Sakura’s differences and similarities—but instead of it being almost hidden through the layers of their unspoken relationship, they are physically represented through their character designs.
Okay, I know you’re probably thinking that this theory is too far fetched (hell, even I think the same). But hear me out:
There is another duo in Wind Breaker who have character designs that contrast each other: Togame and Choji!
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Nii Satoru makes it a point to emphasize how different these two are—and it’s no secret given their designs: Togame is tall, beefier, and has straight dark hair while Choji is short, lankier, with light and curlier hair. Even their eyes contrast each other; Togame’s are thin, slanted, and green while Choji’s are wide, round and red[dish brown]. (I KNOW THAT HIS EYES ARE MORE BROWN IN THE ANIME BUT THEYRE COLORED RED SOMETIMES BY NIISATO PLEASE TRUST ME ON THIS)
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Honestly, this entire section makes me want analyze Choji and Togame (must… control… my demons…), so I’ll just move on to my next point.
Additionally, Sakura is sometimes drawn with his hair slicked back, which makes him look eerily similar to Umemiya…
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I believe this is entirely intentional by Nii-sensei, but if I speak any more I fear that I will start rambling about Umemiya/Sakura parallels like a madman. My point is, two characters with similar/contrasting designs do already exist in WBK.
And in the case of Suo and Sakura, these two elements could possibly coexist in their character designs via their ‘irregular’ eyes.
TLDR; Suo and Sakura are the only characters in the cast with messed up eyes -> If Suo’s blind in his right eye, it would be white -> which would contrast Sakura’s black iris thats also in his right eye -> this shows their differences -> but also reinforces the fact that they are similar since their left eyes are red and amber -> which are their character colors -> I am severely delusional -> and I need to be euthanized immediately
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