#her performance was beyond words | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

harmonysanreads · 6 months ago

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sunday with a singer! darling, one who had escaped from him almost seven years ago, and disappeared off the face of the galaxy. imagine his reaction when he gets word of a famous belobogian band on the radio soon after it’s connections to the IPC were restored, comprised of a woman named serval landau, and a *very* familiar young woman, with an even more familiar voice.

- (…could i be ✨ anon?)

Curtain Call

yandere!sunday x reader

cw(s) : yandere, written before 2.2

wc : 2.6k

You have the power of democracy by your side ✨ anon and I have no choice but to adhere to public demand :] Even though you mentioned a female!reader, the direction of the narrative didn't necessitate that specification, so the reader is gender-neutral! But they have been called ‘babygirl’ once.

“How can the bird that is born for joy

Sit in a cage and sing?”

— William Blake

You've avoided all shades of white and blue since the dawn of this day.

Serval regarded your pertinacity with a voiceless breadth of intrigue, before yielding with little to no resistance. A smidgen of guilt had briefly permeated your consciousness upon the vague shadow of a pout on her face, you recalled her enthusiasm passed through plans of matching outfits on your debutante from days now labeled as the near past. She picked herself up quickly though, her free-spirited ideals would not be compromised by some mere color choice.

It was difficult to not admire her. Lamentably, it is much easier to cradle the preachings of an unrestrained life than to actually act upon them — and by doing so, shouldering the frigid reality that came with such a life. As a child of frozen terrains although, frigidity must be Serval's playground, you eventually conclude. That is hardly the case for you, but you'd rather swallow whole chunks of ice than pin the blame on yourself alone for that apparent incapability.

You aren't at fault for your paranoia in embracing freedom, but you are resolved enough to try breaking away from its clutches. But just as tattoos sink deep beneath skin, that anxiety stubbornly clings to your psyche and the memories of the past nurture and allow it to fester. Which is why, you must avoid any shades of white and blue, at least until the dawn of tomorrow graces Belobog. Be it a superstition with no rational ground or scientific explanation, you decide to believe firmly in your gut.

The walls of the makeshift back-room muffle the chorus of the crowd outside, but it is enough to comfort you that your long held wish did come true. The single light bulb hanging beyond the door of the room serves as the sole source of luminescence, although it is barely helpful, the light bounces off from your back and reflects a scarcely tangible silhouette in the mirror of the dressing table. Glitters of dust floating around are illuminated by that light, abandoned furniture peek beneath their veils from your peripheral — they exclaim what this room's previous purpose had been.

Neither the modest setting nor the small trinkets spread across the dressing table come close to what you had a taste of ; glimmering surfaces, brands of beauty products worth a man's life savings and silks of no contender would mock this shack, if they could. But your heart soaks in solace whenever that irritatingly bright light flickers and mellowed cheers of the crowd permeate the room's thin walls, not because you lack taste in life, but because you recognize the futility of vanity.

“You did amazing there, babygirl!”

Your vision stutters at the impact of firm touch, you feel arms rest atop your decolletage, a shadow cloaks your reflection in the mirror. The cool touch of metal upon your left shoulder and a distinct streak of blue masquerading among blond locks of hair draw out a breath of relief from your lungs. But a faint twist engulfs your gut the very next second, you recall asking for a moment of quietude vividly.

“I don't think my performance was as great as you say, Serval. And whatever I achieved, it wouldn't have been possible without you guys.” your fingers twiddle with your sleeves, your eyes find interest in an abandoned nail polish.

You peek up in time to meet the rockstar's stare through the mirror, with some wrestling with the light, her disapproval shines through to your eyes.

“Nonsense, you were the star of today's show. Give yourself some credit, would ya?” your cheek soaks in the pinch before your brain can decode her words, you muffle a whine in protest.

“Okay, okay! I'm sorry.” your hand quickly soothes over the tempered skin when her fingers retreat, that's the extent of ‘retaliation’ you offer Serval, having accustomed yourself to her spontaneity in the interim of your stay under her care.

“I saw you look... pretty unnerved after the performance, so I came to check.” you scratch your cheek, eyes darting upwards to find her face shielded by your hair. You cannot pinpoint why, but for a second it seemed like she struggled to find footing with her phrasing of words. You've never heard her falter, at least in speech, but the waves of conversation swallow that momentary observation just as quickly.

Instead of being candid, you take a different turn, “You know, I wasn't lying about being grateful to you all. To perform on a stage without any rules was a long held dream of mine,” you feel gooseflesh bloom across your arms as tip-toeing touch descends to your sides, something within tempts you to curl in on yourself but you force your breath to finish. “If it hadn't been for your help, I would never succeed in fulfilling it.”

Serval hums in understanding, the timbres of it traverses from your skull and extends to your nerves. Her arms rest snuggly around your waist and you swallow dryly. Serval always wrapped her arms around your shoulders whenever she felt the need to and the fact that it made your head nearly spiral with questions didn't require to be stated. Only now do you reckon the slumbering atmosphere, without the jeer and cheer of the audience, you felt Belobog's cold biting into the tips of your fingers. You told everyone to not disturb you — your mind echoes without clarification.

“Is it because of that husband of yours?”

Your shoulders tense and for a litany of reasons, most obscure enough to be dismissed as misnomers produced by your instincts, none but one potent enough to be addressed. “Well yes… I told you about a man, but I don't remember specifying that it was a ‘husband’ responsible for my situation.”

Your words materialize as half confused and half laden with caution, you'd told Serval a few things about your predicament — nothing groundbreakingly detailed, just enough to earn a portion of her empathy. It kills you to follow tactics that enticed you to your doom, but what is life, if not a series of trial and error? It's best to apply the teachings of a manipulator than to continue being manipulated for eternity. But of course, you'll admit, such carefully taken steps still don't lessen the likelihood of meeting a dead-end to zero. How unfortunate.

It's Serval's turn to tense, but it's so quick you're left questioning whether it really happened. “Ah, but there was a ring on your right ring finger when you first came here! And the ‘man’ in your stories didn't seem to be different persons. So, I took a guess…”

An awkward chuckle leaves the rockstar's lips and you blink. She's right, you were still wearing your wedding ring when you came here ; an amateur mistake, you should've left it at some abstruse corner of the Dewlight Pavilion. You glance up at your reflections on the mirror, Serval was now mimicking your previous antics, a painted nail against her cheek albeit, the opposing light veiled her expression from recognition. One of her arms was still around your waist, loosely this time.

“I didn't say anything offending, did I?” the mechanic mutters tentatively. You take a deep breath and exhale, vacillating between the multitude of scenarios conjured by your lingering paranoia. But if it's Serval, you give it more thought, there was no tangible reason as to why she of all people would bring this up with malicious intent — or at least, none that you could come up with. She was likely merely concerned for your well-being, a big sister's instincts perhaps.

“Not at all,” the three words are uttered with more difficulty than needed but the effort is proved worth it when she relaxes and returns to embrace you with gusto.

This time you can feel her touch vividly across the bare skin of your midriff, a reminder of your present dress up automatically causes blood to rush to your face. The matching crop-top with Serval was hardly the most revealing thing someone had worn in this universe, but it was the boldest you'd been with your attire. You think you saw her gaze tilting at the sight but the only way to affirm it would make things further awkward. As you melt upon recalling that you'd sung your lungs out with this on in front of a crowd, the rockstar chimes in again.

“Ah right, I almost forgot why I actually came here. I have a gift for you!” you blink out of your stupor to hear shuffles, a bottle of hairspray is knocked to the ground due to her movements. The object clamors down and rolls a few feet away but Serval pays it no attention, you quirk a brow at her sudden briskness. “Close your eyes.” she lulls sweetly, you obey despite your state of disorientation.

You feel the faint brushes of her fingers first, then a noticeable weight around your neck, fastened a little too tightly. After she beckons you to open your eyes, you scrutinize the object through your reflection on the mirror and recognize it to be… a choker. It's heavier than what you recall chokers to be, its body is painted in baby blue and when you turn your head the light bounces off its surface to reveal golden outlinings. Three small wings curl around the white tassel hanging from the middle, you find the wings to be unnervingly soft when your fingers brush across them.

The choker looked expensive, despite its somewhat gaudy appearance and it didn't seem like something aligning with Serval's tastes. But most importantly, there's blue and white in it — the two colors you'd been stubbornly avoiding. Your mind spirals, you clearly remember telling Serval that you didn't want to see those two colors today — or, did you? Perhaps it was your mind weaving its own narratives in the flurry of adrenaline? A chill rears its grotesque head, a panic you can't quite push down despite your mind adapting to give her the benefit of the doubt, your breaths lapse unevenly.

“For being such a darling member of Mechanical Fever, a token of our friendship. I didn't know how else to thank you, so I got this instead.” Serval's voice yanks you from the edge of a panic attack, you force yourself to breathe deeply. You turn around when you notice the absence of her shadow, finding her retreating into the shadow of the half ajar door.

You remain seated on the juncture between light and shadow, returning to face the mirror after the rockstar settles on a stool. “I should be the one saying that and… you didn't have to give me this, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless.” your thumb and index fingers twiddle with the pure white tassel.

Her words seem to make you forget about your earlier paranoia, nostalgia cascades down your soul as you recall the fond memories inherent to Belobog. Destiny's game is truly difficult to comprehend, to think you'd find an actual home so far from your supposed one.

You add without waiting for her reply, “When I first came here, I was so scared and paranoid. I couldn't sleep the first night and I wanted nothing more than to flee the next morning. I really mean it when I say I couldn't make it without your and the others' help.”

Your palm cradles the beat of your existence, the thin fabric of the crop top does little to muffle your heart's clamorous prance.

“Thank you, thank you so much for everything.” your pour as much gratitude from the river coursing through the recesses of your soul in those words. Your chest constricts as you sigh, you remember all the faces that are now known as familiar and random instances buried deep in your memories. Perhaps it's the naturally cold weather of this planet that plays a part, but you furrow your brows as inexplicable sorrow engulfs your heart.

“I, too, hope that you've had a wonderful experience on this planet.”

A much younger you used to judge the victims of stories for choosing to freeze than to flee in the face of candid danger, vowing to not follow in their footsteps should you meet such a predicament one day. Your heart would shatter to incorrigible bits if it hadn't been so viciously twisted, you realize how futile promises are at the thin line separating life and death.

Your body flinches from its hunched position to meet watchful golden eyes, shielded by the door's shadow. You blink a multitude of times, as if that'd make his poised presence disappear, as if that'd affirm that you were simply in the grips of anxiety and Serval would return to reprimand you back to reality.

The warmth drains from your body when he's still there, sitting in front of you with a mocking serenity — you've never hated the vice grip he maintains on his composure more than this moment. Why, how, when and what conjoins his name to frame a myriad of questions, each being answered by none other than you the very next second. Your ears twitch when you catch voices at the end of the hallway, the actual Serval and others must be retreating. You might be a deer inches away from the tiger's jaw, but you'll not go down without a fight, at least.

“If you're planning to scream, I'd advise against that.” Sunday calmly states, your breath catches in your throat. “The choker on your neck has a shock mechanism and it can be activated in various ways. Namely, any time you raise your voice above the coded decibels and the voltage will increase the louder you scream.”

Your hand flies upwards towards the cursed choker and you wrestle a breath in disbelief, you were made a fool of and quite exquisitely. You realize you should've listened to your gut instincts when you still had the choice. Sunday raises a gloved palm when you restlessly tug at the thing, “Don’t bother, it can only be taken off with a password.”

A password only he knows, you conclude. It was not news to you that his sanity is loose from the hinges of his soul, but never would you have expected him to go this far. You glare at your husband, though it looks more like a gazelle's helpless stare as it struggles in the jaws of a predator. The voices from the hallway disappear entirely, you'd told them not to look for you so they'll not return, you feel your eyes moisten as you realize you're stuck alone with Sunday.

“Why—” you choke.

“I understand that you must have a lot of questions,” his words are half resignation and half cheap empathy. “But it is not your turn to speak, for there are more pressing matters at hand.”

Sunday stands up, brows scrunching at the dust floating around the room. “The matter of your possible unfaithfulness is one thing,” his hand grips the handle of the door and you flinch. “But performing in front of so many people without any consideration of how far it'll spread, or choice of attire,” your body erupts in shudders upon feeling his pointed stare, the expanse of your exposure finally registering.

“Truly unbefitting of my spouse.”

But it's not his judging gaze that has your nerves frayed, it's the hints of genuine disappointment that borders on anger leaking through his words that makes you feel parched, makes you want the earth split in half and take you from this situation. Your experience with Sunday has taught you that he has the patience of a saint, but none of those memories reassure you that it's boundless. You realize that you've never actually seen his face contorted in ire, no matter how defiant you'd been. Aeons, you wish it stayed that way forever.

As the shadow of the closing door engulfs your form and leaves the rest to interpretation, the last thing you see are his darkened golden eyes — you're certain that, that was the instance the last spirited part of you died.

rest in peace i guess

#requests: batch two #answered #yandere #yandere sunday #yandere sunday x reader #sunday #sunday x reader #sunday x you #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader

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astrow1zar6 · 5 days ago

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Venus in the houses Ovservation 8-12

Venus in the 8th house: these people are so magnetic it’s insane. They have a dark beauty to them that’s truly captivating. They remind me of Tim Burton characters. But being so magnetic causes a lot of people to become obsessed with them. They attract a lot of stalkers and creepy people. They tend to get sexualized constantly( people make such gross comments to them it’s shocking). I’ve seen these people get catcalled and lustful stares and comments about their body even if they aren’t wearing anything revealing. Even I’ve seen family members make inappropriate comments to these natives, things like “if you weren’t my daughter I’d….” You get the picture 🤮 (8th house ruling taboo attraction ) one of my close friends had to deal with that in her family. They may have been shamed for wearing revealing clothing of too much makeup because it’s seen as “overly sexy” or “hoochie”. People could’ve thought they were sluts even if they never had sex too it’s sad. They can get a lot of hate from people for no reason as well they may be used to people (mostly women) giving them dirty looks or ignoring them/purposely being mean to them. Their presence has such an intense affect on the people around them. Their relationships are also intense as well they attract a lot of people with a dangerous/edgy type vibe to them (junkies, drug dealers, people with a record ect). They have a provocative vibe to them so they can attract some very questionable partners at time. I’ve seen too that they are into gory kinda art or disturbing art pieces/ photography. They are also very proud of their bodies & usually embrace their sexuality. I’ve seen a lot get into nude modeling or just take a lot of pictures of their bodies. They’re more comfortable being nude than most (also this can be a big sugar baby placement as well like Venus in the 2nd).

Venus in 9th house: have such a unique glow to them. They have smiles that can light up a room and their laugh reminds me of wind chimes. I haven’t met a lot of people with this placement but the ones I met I notice they are so intelligent and well spoken. So many people are drawn to them just to hear what they have to talk about. It makes them amazing teachers/gurus. They just always seem like they know what they’re talking about so many describe them as being wide beyond their years (they usually have pretty high IQs as well, Marylin Monroe had this placement) They tend to find spouses while traveling or they can travel a lot with their partner. Their partner might’ve come from a very diverse cultural background or ethnicity. On the negative side these people can be very overly indulgent and sometimes believe that they are always right and their words are law. They can have a big god complex if negatively aspected.

Venus in the 10th house: give superstar vibes. These people put a lot of effort into their career and public image. Most big celebrities/ big politicians I notice have this placement. This can be a big trendsetter placement as well, you’ll notice that many people will admire you and try to copy you a lot! Whether it be you mannerisms, fashion, art style ect. For example Billie Eilish has this placement and everyone went crazy over her baggy clothes style. You have more of an opportunity to make your mark in the world more than the rest of the Venus signs. If afflicted however you can become too obsessed with recognition and status to the point where you abandon important things and people in your life to attain your goals, this can cause someone who has sorta tunnel vision when negatively aspected. It’s important to not get so wrapped up in others image of you so you don’t burn yourself out trying to please everyone (they can be extremely sensitive to criticism & be harsh on themselves to perform perfectly). You can also have a habit of putting your work/career before relationships. You may not settle down till later in life.

Venus in the 11th house: I notice similar to Venus in Aqua that they are really big on friends before lovers typa thing. They don’t really jump into relationships fast without becoming their friend first.( which can be a little annoying to more fast paced types) at first you can make your partner feel friend zoned but the ones who are patient enough to let you open up usually win your heart. They usually put a big emphasis on friends in general and could have a lot of them. If you date someone with this placement it may feel like you’re dating their friends too😭 they’re a very big part of their life. People with this placement usually have many support systems which can help them through life and show them to new opportunities(especially business opportunities). On the flip side I’ve seen these people become too detached with their relationships and treat them like friends rather than lovers which can cause their partner to feel neglected. They tend to find lovey dovey expressions a little awkward (if immature) which can cause them to become aloof when things get a little too close, they may start playing hot and cold. Might need a longer time to mature romantically than most. I’ve seen a lot of influencer and people with popular social media blogs have this placement. They’re very tech savvy & usually own the latest technology.

Venus in 12th house: these people I feel mostly live in their fantasy worlds in terms of love and romance. They are hopeless romantics at heart and have this beautiful vision of how they want their love to look and feel like. However it’s usually difficult for them to find this perfect love in such an imperfect world so they usually end up romanticizing the most mentally ill mfs into like a Prince Charming image lmao. This is why they usually attract a lot of unstable/ emotionally unavailable partners. I’ve seen these people remain celibate for long periods of time as well until they find that perfect love. Most of the time though unfortunately love feels a lot better in their imagination. I’ve read somewhere before that they go through such an ordeal in love because in a past life they chose lovers over loving themselves so a big lesson in this lifetime is to love yourself before you let anyone in. I also read they could’ve lost their soulmate in another life which caused this extreme longing for love in this life. These people usually find self love through spiritual practices such as religion, meditation, crystal work, tarot ect.

#astro observations #astrologist #astrology #astro community #astro notes #astroblr

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verstarppen · 1 year ago

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omfg i love your fics they’re so funny 😭😭 i had an idea for a max fic that i think you would do so well 🫶 so like she’s his teammate and she has a bf (no idea who but prob another athlete or something since they tend to kinda be fboys 👀 but not another driver please because those dynamics make me cringe in second hand embarrassment 🙏) then he like cheats on her publicly, but she decides to live in idgafistan and max helps her make her ex jealous 😝 but he’s like actually been into her for a really long time and everyone ships them and stuff and then he bags her with his irresistible chronically offline awkward white boy rizz 💋

summary; cheaters deserve to get cheated out of their career, or at least that's how max justifies destroying your ex's life

pairing; max verstappen x fem! red bull driver! reader [ no faceclaim ]

warnings; suggestive language, swearing

a/n; DISCLAIMER the boyfriend is made up and also a sims 2 reference, if by chance there is a real tennis player by the name of Dominic Lothario im so sorry sir this was not written with you in mind ALSO this is my VERY sneaky way of telling everyone my favorite song is trophäe by paula carolina so naturally i had to shove the word trophy everywhere to justify using lyrics as the title I HOPE I DID YOUR PROMPT JUSTICE also i skipped over singapore because we don't talk about singapore

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maxverstappen1 The only time I've cheated.

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feeltheorange WHAT DID HE SAYYYY

meepshoemaker the double take i just did cracked my neck

yukinator22 NAHHHHHHHHH

albogeant BRO DIDN'T EVEN GIVE HER TIME TO RECOVER LMAOOOOOOOO

ynln7 everyone has permission to laugh i came up with the caption

pierregasly Thank god charles_leclerc I'm going to hell I laughed before I saw your comment pierregasly Me too ynln7 assholes (affectionately)

liked by christianhorner, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 4,592,577 others

ynln7 anyway

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christianhorner This is not the team bonding I was talking about

charles_leclerc Shut up, some of us have waited years for this pierregasly Seconded danielricciardo Third...ed?

simplyclerc LET HIM COOK

lionkingseb max verstapprizz

mcmango he saw an opportunity and he took it

redbullpapaya i manifested this with magic beyond the human comprehension

liked by maxverstappen1, ynln7, christianhorner and 2,102,094 others

redbullracing An immaculate performance today from @ maxvestappen1 and @ ynln7 that’s a 6th Constructors’ Championship for the team!! 🏆 CONGRATULATIONS, WORLD CHAMPIONS!!

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super_max they know they ate

staraikkonen the blueprint for all powercouples

shadownorris LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO

angelricciardo talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, unafraid to reference or not reference

dominic_lothario 👎

redbullracing Shouldn't you be looking for a job? What are you doing in our comments.

kirbyvettel MAXY/N SWEEP

maxverstappen1 The trophy is not my only win this week @ ynln7

ynln7 ok now let me pass you maxverstappen1 No 🧡 You're pretty in p2

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ynln7 celebrating the win the RIGHT way (playing f1 2023)

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easportsf1 Amen

ynln7 LMAO

maxverstappen1 I let you win

ynln7 bruised ego alert

christianhorner Such a RESPONSIBLE team, aren't we?

orangleclerc THE T-SHIRT

strawberryrosberg Did they turn down the afterparty invite for this because mad respect

charles_leclerc Tell me your record, I'll beat it

ynln7 in your dreams, leclerc maxverstappen1 Beat us in real life first charles_leclerc First of all.

pic credits: instagram and pinterest

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #instagram au #social media au #max verstappen au

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hollyoongs · 7 months ago

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NUMBER ONE ✦ S.JY

pairing scuderia ferrari racer!jake x scuderia ferrari race engineer!fem reader

summary The Australian Grand Prix was something Jake has been looking forward to winning since he entered the F1 races, so when he wins, he also wins a big victory celebration on your part.

genre smut

warnings thigh humping, orgasm denial, fingering, 69, squirting (two times), use of sexual toy (vibrator), dirty talk, pet names (good girl, baby and princesse), spanking, sub!reader, dom!jake (he's so pussy drunk)

a/n This happens in an alternative universe where en- and bynextdoor are actually F1 racers, only the teams that actually play in F1 remains the same and I've the permission of my friend to actually use her format since it's her present, in case you didn't know.

wc +3.9k

As you walked into the bustling Australian Grand Prix track alongside the rest of the Scuderia Ferrari team, the air was charged with excitement. The fans' euphoric screams reverberated throughout the circuit, a cacophony of support for their favorite teams. It was a special Grand Prix, especially for one person in particular, Jake Shim.

For Jake, racing in Australia held significance beyond the adrenaline of competition. It was a melding of his upbringing, shaped both by the country that practically raised him and the Korean customs instilled by his parents. As he donned his racing suit, the blend of cultures felt palpable, driving him to perform at his best on the track.

Amidst the buzz of the paddock, you caught sight of Jake preparing himself. As you made your way over to him, you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride in his determination and skill. "Hey, Jake," you greeted him with a warm smile, "ready to show them what you're made of out there?"

Jake returned your smile, his eyes alight with determination. "You know it," he replied, his voice tinged with excitement. "This one's special, not just for me but for us."

"Don't lie to yourself."

"It's actually true. I'm in my hometown with the girl of my dreams on the team that I've worked so hard to get into."

"Ah, so I'm just the girl of your dreams now?" You teased, raising an eyebrow playfully as you adjusted the lanyard around your neck, indicating your role as a Scuderia Ferrari steward.

Jake chuckled, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. "Of course not; you're more than that. You're the reality of my dreams," he said, his tone sincere as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your cheek.

"Smooth talker," you remarked with a grin, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "But seriously, Jake, I have a good feeling about today. You've been putting in the work, and it's going to pay off."

His smile widened, mirroring the confidence that radiated from him. "Thanks, babe. I'm going to give it my all out there and take that trophy home." He said, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering determination.

"I'm actually looking forward to it because…" You went near him, your lips at the same height as his "I don't want to waste your victory present."

"What do you mean?"

"Want a clue? You know what they say about a nice outfit…" You leaned in, kissing him and making him sigh when you went back again to his ear. "It's what's underneath that counts."

"Jake! It's time to be in position for the practice race." You backed away with an angelic smile for the boss after he called out your boyfriend. He was pushing your boyfriend backwards to his car as Jake was eyeing you up and down with his characteristic flirty smile.

The engines roared to life, filling the air with a symphony of power as the cars lined up on the grid, ready to tear through the track at breakneck speeds. Jake sat in his Ferrari, his focus razor-sharp as he visualized every turn and every maneuver he would need to make to clinch victory on his home turf. Behind him was his friend, Mingi, who was also adjusting to the car and communicating with the staff.

Beside him, the Red Bull of Sunghoon sat poised, his friend exuding confidence as he eyed the competition ahead. Mercedes' Nishimura Ri-Ki, ever the formidable opponent, sat further down the grid, his steely gaze betraying his determination to reclaim the top spot.

McLaren's Kim Sunoo exchanged a grin with Yang Jungwon, his teammate, as they prepared to make their mark on the race. Aston Martin Aramco, with Lee Heeseung and Park Jongseong at the helm, were determined to prove their worth on the track.

Alpine's Han Dongmin, the youngest of all the F1 drivers, shared a nod with his teammate Kim Donghyun, their eyes reflecting the fire of competition burning within. Williams, RB, Kick Sauber, and Haas completed the grid, each team eager to showcase their talents amidst the throngs of fans cheering from the stands.

As the lights above the track blinked to life, signaling the imminent start of the race and the end of the one and only, the tension reached a fever pitch. The air crackled with anticipation, the fans holding their breaths in anticipation of the spectacle about to unfold.

And then, with a deafening roar, the race began.

The cars surged forward, a blur of colors streaking past as they jostled for position in the opening corners. Jake navigated the chaos with precision, his Ferrari darting through the pack as he chased the elusive lead.

Beside him, Sunghoon fought tooth and nail to maintain his position, his Red Bull dancing on the edge of control as he pushed it to its limits. Ri-Ki, ever the strategist, bided his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

As the race unfolded, the crackle of the radio cut through the roar of the engines, a lifeline connecting Jake and his team to navigate the twists and turns of the track. Amidst the chaos, your voice broke through, a beacon of calm in the storm.

"Jake, you're doing great out there," you said, your tone laced with encouragement. "Just keep your focus, and remember to breathe. You've got this."

Jake's grin was audible through the radio as he replied, his voice brimming with determination. "Thanks, darling. I'm feeling good; I just need to stay sharp."

"Just remember to control the curves in Sector 3 and let me know if there's a problem."

"Yes, ma'am." You let out a small smile with the nickname and started getting nervous for him.

As the laps ticked by, the race intensified, with each corner a battle for supremacy as the drivers pushed themselves and their machines to the absolute limit. Jake only went to the box two times, which made him pass from 4th to 6th, but he was so willing to take the win home, which made him give his all. Jake, fueled by the cheers of the crowd and the support of his team, refused to relent, inching ever closer to the front of the pack.

And then, as the checkered flag loomed on the horizon, Jake made his move. With a daring maneuver, he seized the lead, his Ferrari passing all the cars in front of him, and taking the opportunity of Ri-Ki's and Heeseung's hitting the box, Jake just went for it, his mind going blank for a second.

"And what a story this is for Jake Shim. What a performance! What a comeback! A Ferrari one-two headed by Jake Shim, who wins the Australian Grand Prix"

"Wait… did I hear that correctly?"

"Fuck yeah, you did P1!" You just won!" He clapped fast a few times, and before he sreamed of joy, he just couldn't believe it. He gave the last victory lap to the fans and went straight to his team.

As he climbed from his car, he took off his helmet with a triumphant smile on his face, the staff jumping to him in excitement. He caught sight of you in the crow, your eyes shining with pride. Crossing the paddock, he swept you up in his arms, the taste of victory sweet on his lips as he held you close and tasted your lips in a fond kiss, right before he ran to the podium and received not only the champagne that the three top drivers of the GP opened in a celebratory manner, but when Jake held high and proud the trophy, hearing all the cheers.

As all the events ended and all the staff got together in a happy mood, the head of the team made his way to the center of a circle, a joyful aura shining in him.

"I want to say congratulations to Jake and Mingi; today's performance was amazing, and because of that, we're going to have a celebration!" The boss announced it, his voice booming over the cheers of the team. "And since Ferrari came out on top, we will have a celebration later! So have a good rest, and we will let everyone know where it is after we prepare it. Great job everyone!"

After the exhilarating celebrations and festivities, the adrenaline began to wane, leaving in its wake a pleasant exhaustion that seemed to seep into every muscle and bone. Jake glanced at you, a contented smile gracing his lips as he realized just how much he was looking forward to some quiet time alone with you.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and husky as he leaned in close. "Are you ready to head back to my place? I could use some rest and relaxation after today's excitement."

You nodded, a playful glint in your eyes as you replied, "Lead the way, champion. I'll be right behind you."

As you made your way through the bustling paddock and out into the cool evening air, the adrenaline of the race slowly began to ebb away, replaced by a quiet anticipation of the intimate moments to come.

Once you arrived at Jake's house, the soft glow of the lights illuminated the room, casting a warm, inviting aura over everything.

"I'm going to the bathroom." You said, Jake saw your way, and his side smile popped out. You rolled your eyes. "No."

"Come on, you said—"

"I know what I said. Come to the bedroom in twenty." After you said that, you turned around and went to the shared bedroom, feeling his gaze on your ass as you walked out, swaying your hips slightly.

You showered quickly enough to get yourself ready, looking in the mirror every time you did something. You saw yourself, and you were proud of what you saw: the burgundy lingerie covering your body, a 4-piece lingerie set that featured a bra, a g-string pant, and a thigh garter, the floral lace soft underwire bra with garter leg straps highlighting your legs line, the light makeup in contrast to the color of your lips that matched your whole outfit, and of course, the color of your boyfriend team. You were fixing your hair when you heard the door of the bedroom open up. You looked at the time on your phone, and he actually waited twenty minutes.

“Babe? What are you doing?” You opened the door to reveal yourself to Jake, his eyes widening at the image.

Jake stood in the doorway, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight before him. The soft glow of the bedroom lights played over your figure, accentuating every curve and contour of your body clad in the enticing burgundy lingerie set. His eyes lingered on the delicate lace and the way it hugged your curves in all the right places, igniting a fire of desire within him.

"You… you look incredible," he breathed, his voice husky with desire as he stepped closer, unable to tear his gaze away from you.

A blush crept onto your cheeks at his words, a smile tugging at your lips as you met his intense gaze. "I'm glad you think so," you murmured, feeling a surge of confidence at his reaction.

Jake closed the distance between you in a few swift strides, his hands reaching out to trace the lines of the lace along your skin. His touch sent shivers racing down your spine, igniting a fire of longing deep within you.

"You know," he murmured, his voice low and seductive as he leaned in close, his breath ghosting over your ear. "Seeing you like this… It's almost too much to handle."

A soft gasp escaped your lips as his lips trailed along your jawline, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His hands moved with purpose, caressing every inch of your exposed skin, leaving you trembling with anticipation.

"You're the winner today," you whispered, your voice barely above a breathless sigh as you melted into his touch, your hands going straight to the buttons of his jeans, opening them up as you moved your hands to remove his shirt. The tattoo on his ribs is on full display, and his necklaces are shining in his neck. "I will do anything that you want. Congratulations, winner."

With a hunger that matched your own, Jake captured your lips in a searing kiss, his desire evident in every movement and every touch. In that moment, all thoughts of the race and of the celebrations faded into the background, leaving only the two of you and the undeniable passion that burned between you.

The kisses followed their level; all the passion could be seen in those kisses, as Jake would not take his hand off your neck and the other one off your figure while making his hair a mess that he could care very little about. They went a little further into bed. You sat Jake down with a gentle push, and you opened his legs with your hands as you kneeled down to him, taking off his pants once and for all.

The moment you stood up, Jake started playing with a thread from your thong, stopping almost immediately when you positioned your entry on his right thigh and stuck your lips to his sensitive neck.

His breath hitched as your lips trailed along his neck, sending shivers down his spine. His fingers tightened around the delicate lace of your lingerie, pulling you closer to him as he let out a low groan of pleasure. Every touch and every whisper of your lips against his skin fueled the fire burning between you, igniting a passion that threatened to consume you both.

As you continued to explore each other's bodies with feverish intensity, time seemed to slow to a standstill, the world outside disappearing as you lost yourselves in each other. With every kiss and every caress, the connection between you deepened, transcending the physical realm and delving into something far more profound.

In that moment, there were no barriers, no inhibitions, just the raw, unbridled passion that bound you together. And as you surrendered yourself completely to the intoxicating rhythm of desire, you knew that this was just the beginning of a night filled with endless pleasure and exploration.

You could feel how your pants started getting wet with Jake's caresses, especially on occasional taps on your breasts and buttocks. You started with a gentle movement that let out a sigh from your side. You looked for some sign of dissatisfaction in your partner, meeting Jake biting your lower lip while watching your action. Jake dropped the palms of his hands at every slap of your ass, making you pant in combination with a little surprise.

"You're too much for me, baby." Jake threw his head back and raised his hands to your hips, the top of his thigh being soaked by your natural lubricant. You hid your face in the hole connecting his neck and shoulder, his ear receiving your ecstatic jades, making known the wave of pleasure you were feeling. He stopped your movements for a second and handled your hips so that you jumped on his thigh. The vibration they caused went straight to your clitoris, making you moan a little higher than usual.

Jake took his hands out of his place and removed your bra. Delighted with the movements of your breasts with the leaps he made, he took his hands behind him and smiled with a little malice. Jake knew when you were at the edge, repeating his name amidst loud moans and whining so he could fuck you like they both knew they liked.

"You're close, princess?" You gave a loud moan in response, and he took your jaw and made you look at him. "Tell me, baby. Are you going to cum for me?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna cum so bad." You started speeding up, feeling the knot of pleasure about to explode until they were stopped by Jake, who held you as he took out his legs, causing you to shake by the sudden stop.

He once again attracted your lips, holding you as close as he could to calm yourself down and shut the whines from your mouth. His hands snaked to your back thighs and made you jump, your legs wrapping his hips and getting your dripping entrance in touch with his clothed erect member, making him moan in your lips.

Jake left you in bed for a moment, opening the closet in pairs until he found his favorite object. You couldn't hold your breath knowing what was in his hand. He stood in front of the bed with it in his hand, still with that smile you loved, but right now, it made you tremble.

"You told me I could do what I wanted, right?" You nodded without taking your eyes off him as he scanned your body again with desire; you could feel it for miles. "You know how I like to see you."

Without waiting any longer, you sat in bed, making a space for him. Jake took off his annoying boxers, and he was next to you in no time. With a little sign, you put your covered entrance on his face, his lips kissing your inner thighs, which made you sigh with pleasure, still delighted with what you did earlier. You licked your lips when you saw his dick, completely erect and red, desperate to be cared for. Jake's hands completely lowered your last complicated garment, opening your vagina with his two fingers and blowing a little to get a moan out of you that reached his dick, getting him to move a little.

You spat on his dick, feeling his legs shake because of the sudden action. Your right hand caught him, creating a delicious swing that made Jake moan. You could feel your fluids falling into Jake's face because of Jake's stimulation of your clitoris; something he loved too much was seeing your entrance palpitating in anticipation.

"Baby, do you want my fingers first or my tongue?" You liked that thought of it, which makes you close around nothing, and now it was Jake turning to lick his lips. He slapped your ass one more time, making your entrance touch his mouth, the sensation making you stay there. "My good girl wants to be eat out? Making you more wet than you are so my dick can enter your pretty and tight cunt?"

"Fuck yeah, Jake, please eat me out." Your voice sounded so pretty to him that he just forced you down to stay there with his arms in your legs.

"Good fucking girl," for a second, you forgot to continue your movements, the pleasure being too much with his tongue creating circles in your clitoral area and traveling all across your entrance. You starred at your movements on his dick at a faster pace, getting in response to him squeezeing your ass in delight.

Now, your mouth was on his tip, kitten licks being delivered and causing him to twitch. You kept that for more minutes until you felt his two fingers ipening your entrance, your back arching up.

"No matter how many times I fuck you numb, you're still fucking thight. My girl is so thight for me as usual. Fuck, baby." He stopped his words and movements when you entered his dick into your mouth. His deep grunts and moans motivated you, loosing your throat so all of his length went inside. You hollowed your cheeks and controlled your gag reflexes.

"Baby, don't stop; you're such a good girl for me." The pace of his fingers continued faster, distracting you a few times, his cock blocking your loud moans and only the sounds of your wet entrace and his dick having the blowjobs of his life surrounding the room. You felt his dick getting swollen in your mouth, and his grunts just got louder.

You sucked everything out of him until you felt his fingers disappearing from your entrance and the vibration of the vibrator he pulled out on your clitoris. Your mouth was opened for that, and Jake's first drop of sperm stopped right at the back of your throat. Jake's hand took his dick, moving it fast, and let all its essence fall on your face and part of your clavicles, some of it landing inside your mouth. His other hand had stuck the vibrator on you, your body shaking endlessly and your moaning finally being free.

Jake settled in where his head was before; now there was his dick, his fingers going back in, and you felt like any minute you were going to collapse.

"I know you're going to cum, but you have to wait one minute. Can my good girl do that?"

"Yes, Jake. I can do that." Jake turned up the speed of it, and you just shoved your head into the pillow, hearing him count so slowly that you were staring to get a tear in your eye. One minute passed, and he smiled proudly.

"Cum all over my dick, baby," as you did it. His fingers made more obvious the amount of squirt coming down to his dick and legs, wetting your lower bodies for another minute, and he did not stop his fingers until you had nothing. You got on all fours after a few seconds of watching him move his dick up and down again., him puching you like you were before. Your ass up and your face planted on the mattress. "Stay like that."

"For fuck sakes, Jake. Let me—oh shit." His dick opened up your entrance suddenly after he put the condom in, your moans matching as you felt your mind going cloudy. Jake threw his head back as he slowly pushed himself to touch your sweet spot. You screamed in pleasure when he did it, being silenced by the pillow you were biting.

He couldn't wait, and his movements were fast, your ass moving like waves every time he thrust himself into you. Jake got as much noise as you, your thightness making him touch the sky, and your moans getting messier and louder once again.

"Jake, I'm cumming again."

"You're not. Not until I come first so that you can cum in my mouth." He felt how you clenched, and he slapped your ass. He took your hair in a messy ponytail and arched your back. "You want to cum? Then wait." The sound of your bodies colliding got faster, and he captured your lips when he felt like cumming completely. Once he left you, he grabbed the vibrator, reaching it to the tenth level. You held his arms, finally letting out the screams you were holding while that toy was inside you and your fingers in your clitoral area.

He laid down to face your cunt again. "Good job, baby. Make a mess all over me." His tongue got out of his mouth, and the view was enough to make you squirt bigger than the last one. Jake was so pussy drunk that he just went up a few seconds to have it all.

The heavy breathing of both of you was loud. Jake gently massaged your legs as you fell on the bed again, right next to him as he kissed you gently. The tiredness was invading both of you, but even with how tired you were, you smiled at him.

"How was your celebration?"

"Better than the trophy, for sure. You were perfect; you're perfect. I don't deserve you."

"Congratulations, my number one."

2K notes · View notes

liliacamethyst · 1 year ago

Text

Webs of Redemption (Part IV)

Sequel to Web of Shadow and Light

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 6,7K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, heavy angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

The piercing cries of your baby boy, Gabriel, are a haunting symphony of fear that reverberates through the labyrinthine corridors of the Spider Society headquarters. Your heart pounds in your chest like a drum, each beat echoing the terror that grips you. After your recent fight with Miguel, you felt weakened but your mind is a whirlwind of fear and worry. You sprint through the maze-like structure, your feet moving as if on autopilot.

Unbeknownst to you, Lyla, the holographic AI assistant you've always found slightly weird, had been assigned to watch over Gabriel. You never imagined she could pose a threat to your child. But as you approach Gabriel's room, a chilling sight stops you dead in your tracks. A laser barrier, courtesy of Lyla, blocks the entrance. Your solar powers, usually so reliable, are fizzling out, leaving you helpless before the impenetrable barrier.

The room beyond the barrier is filled with an invisible, deadly gas - monoxide. You can't see it, but the signs are there. The malfunctioning heating unit, under Lyla's control, suggests sabotage. She must have manipulated the unit to produce the lethal gas. Gabriel's cries grow fainter, more desperate, and you're powerless to reach him.

Your pleas for help echo through the corridors, your voice raw with desperation. You call out for Miguel, your words a plea, a command, a prayer. Miles is there, his powers at the ready, but they're useless against the laser barrier. You watch as Miles strains, his powers flickering against the barrier, but it's no use. The barrier remains, as unyielding as ever.

Suddenly, the cries stop. The silence is deafening, a void that swallows your heart. "Gabriel!" you scream, your voice a raw wound. "Gabriel!" But there's no answer, only the oppressive silence. Your world grinds to a halt, every second stretching into an eternity. You can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but stare at the barrier that separates you from your son.

"Miguel!" you cry, your voice breaking. "Miguel, he's not crying! He's not... he's not..." The words die in your throat, too terrible to voice. You turn to Lyla, desperation etched on your face. "Lyla, please! Open the barrier! Miguel, tell her to open it! He's not crying, Miguel, he's not..."

Miguel's eyes turn blood red, a terrifying sight that sends a shiver down your spine. With a guttural growl, he lunges at the barrier. His claws rip through the laser code, tearing it apart. The barrier flickers, wavers, and finally shatters under his assault. Miguel pulls his suit over his mouth, rushes into the invisible cloud of monoxide, and moments later, emerges with Gabriel in his arms. His heart pounds in his chest as he pulls back his suit, revealing his son's face. "I got you, baby," he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. "You're okay, I got you. Nothing will ever happen to you. Please, open your eyes."

But Gabriel doesn't react. His little body is still, too still, and a cold dread seizes Miguel. He doesn't hesitate. With a urgency, he rushes over to the medical bay, pushing past the shocked faces of his friends. He gently lays Gabriel on the table, his hands shaking as he starts to perform CPR.

"Come on, Gabriel," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. "Come on, baby." He administers chest compressions, his hands moving in a steady rhythm. He gives two rescue breaths, praying for a sign, any sign, that Gabriel is okay.

The room is silent, everyone holding their breath as they watch Miguel work. The seconds stretch into an eternity, each one a lifetime of fear and hope. And then, finally, a small cough. Gabriel's eyes flutter open, his gaze unfocused but alive. A wave of relief washes over you and you fall to your knees thanking God that your boy is alright.

Tears blur your vision as you rush over to Gabriel. Your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest as you scoop him into your arms, holding him close. His small body is warm against yours "You're alright, my baby," you whisper into his hair, your voice thick with emotion. "We're going home, you're alright." You rock him gently, his soft breaths against your neck soothing the ache in your heart.

But as you look up, your gaze finds Miguel. The relief of the moment does nothing to quell the anger boiling within you. His eyes meet yours, wide and filled with regret, but it does nothing to soften your glare. "This is YOUR fault!" you scream, your voice echoing through the room. The words hang heavy in the air, a damning sentence. "You did this! You brought this danger into his life!"

Tears stream down your face, hot and unchecked. Your words are choked with emotion, each one a raw wound. "You will NEVER see Gabriel again. You don't deserve him. You don't deserve to know his laughter, his tears, his NOTHING." The words are a bitter poison, spat out with all the venom you can muster. "You deserve to SUFFER, just as you've made me suffer and HIM."

The silence that follows is deafening. Miguel, eyes wide and shell-shocked, opens his mouth, but you cut him off. There's nothing left to say for him and he knows it. The portal back to your universe begins to shimmer into existence, and you hold Gabriel tighter. You're going home.

Just as you are about to step through, Gabriel, who'd been silent and wide-eyed through the whole ordeal, turns in your arms. His chubby little hand stretches out toward Miguel, a soft and innocent "Dada?" escaping his lips.

After the door of the portal closed behind you, Miguel stood still for a moment in complete shock, the echoes of Gabriel's tiny "Dada" ringing in his ears. He stumbled back, finding his way back to his office. It felt cold, sterile. It felt like a lie.

"Miguel..." Lyla's holographic form appeared before him, her synthetic voice filling the room.

"Lyla!" Miguel barked, startling her. "Why?"

"Wha-" Lyla began to stutter, taken aback by Miguel's rage.

Miguel slammed the files that Margo had uncovered onto his desk. The holograms fluttered in front of them, evidence of Lyla's deception. "What did you do?"

"I...It's not what you think, Miguel," Lyla attempted to explain, her holographic form wavering.

"I am giving you one chance to explain yourself, so choose your words wisely," Miguel warns, his eyes piercing into hers.Lyla takes a step back, mumbling under her breath. "I should have killed that bitch when your bastard was the size of a pea." She scoffed, looking up defiantly at Miguel.

Miguel's heart drops. He can hardly believe his own ears. “Never speak of her that way again!" Miguel's fist tightens, and the tension in his jaw is nearly audible.

"Oh? Because she dazzled you with her beauty? Parading in that tight suit you adored? You always looked at her as if she was the sun, the center of your universe. All the while, I was there right beside you and you never even glanced at me. I was your anchor, Miguel. Can't you see? I was always there, supporting you, giving everything. All she did was leave you."

Lyla's holographic image wavers, her eyes a storm of pain and defiance. "No, it was me. I left her. She was the light in my world, but I took her for granted. By the time she left, I had already abandoned her." Miguel's eyes shimmer, the weight of regret making them heavy. He couldn’t fend off the flood of guilt and sorrow from the past. He embraces the anguish, refusing to shy away from it. Because Miguel, in all his flaws, was never one to run from consequences.

"Why?" The word, barely audible, escaping his lips. He doesn't even glance at Lyla as he voiced the lingering question.

“Because... because I love you, Miguel. I've been in love with you for years. I am the woman for you."

He stumbles back, his fingers flying over the holographic keyboard as he pulls up Lyla's software. He had programmed a self-destruction command, a failsafe, though he never thought he'd have to use it.

"This isn't love, Lyla," Miguel says, his voice shaking with anger. "You almost killed an innocent boy. I almost killed my son, Lyla!" His voice echoes through the room, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

Lyla's form began to flicker, her synthetic eyes widening in fear. "Miguel...what are you doing?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Miguel doesnt respond. There is nothing left to say.He just stares at her before finally pressing the command.

“Miggy, please mi amor, let – “ Lyla let out a digital scream, her form glitching, as she was slowly deleted from the system.

And then, silence.

Miguel drops the icy demeanor he'd been holding onto, falling to his knees. The weight of what he'd done, what he'd almost lost, crashed onto him. He wraps his arms around himself, feeling a sharp, hollow ache in his chest. He became the monster, he swore to protect the universe from.

"What have I done." he whispers to the silent room, his voice breaking. He buries his face in his hands, his body shaking with sobs.

"Man, shits been mental." Hobie collapses onto the couch next to Gwen and Miles, who are trying to keep young Mayday distracted in Peter B.’s universe.

"Watch the language, Hobie!" Gwen scolds, her eyebrow arching sharply.

"Alright, my bad. Everything's just been chaotic since Miguel vanished, especially after his... uh, Lyla bird — the hologram lady — tried to... you know, kill his kid," Hobie fumbles.

"Watch it!" Gwen and Miles chorus, causing Mayday to pause her play and glance up curiously.

"Alright, alright, fam. Point taken, jeez. Nearly unalived his son," Hobie corrects himself. "But we need a plan. One of us needs to check on our Sun, ensure she's holding up mentally ya know and then there's the Spider-Verse mess. Those black holes are messing things up, and without our brooding, drama-filled, ‘oedipal’ leader, the rest of us Spiders are stuck."

"What's 'Oedipal'?" Peter B. interjects, walking into the room with a bowl of mashed dinner for Mayday. The child's face brightens at the sight of the meal, and she eagerly crawls to him.

"I believe Hobie's trying to reference Oedipus," Gwen says with a roll of her eyes.

"Yeah, that Roman dude who had beef with his son and erased him from the living world, right?" Hobie muses.

"Nope. It's Greek mythology. And he killed his father and married his mother," Gwen corrects, slightly exasperated.

"Man, that's all kinds of messed up," Hobie grimaces, making a face that gets a giggle from Mayday.

"You think it's funny when Uncle Hobie gets it wrong?" he teases the little one.

"Enough with the history lessons, guys," Peter B. interjects, concern evident in his voice. "Ever since Miguel's been gone, nothing's been right. Honestly, with everything that's been happening, I'm just overwhelmed. I'm especially worried about Sunny and everything just feel so surreal."

Hobie nods, absorbing the weight of the situation. “I hear you, man. Who knew Miguel was shagging our Sunny behind our backs.”

The chorus of shocked voices fills the room. “LANGUAGE!" they exclaim, eyes wide.

Hobie raises his hands in surrender. "Sorry, I got carried away. I meant... it is weird how they had a deep love-making connection, and it led to... consequences without us knowing."

Peter B. leans back, a pensive expression clouding his face. "With everything Sunny went through, the joy, the pregnancy and leaving... I should have been there for her more."

As if sensing her father's distress, Mayday halts her meal, reaching out with her small, pudgy hand to comfort him, patting his cheek. Gwen, her voice gentle yet firm, adds, "We all could've done more, Peter. But we were preoccupied, trying to save our universes, and in doing so, we neglected our own Spider-Family."

She takes a deep breath, her demeanor changing to one of determination. "Now, no more moping. Miles and I will hunt down Pav and Margot to sort out the chaos at HQ. Peter, you should visit Sunny and Gabriel and take Mayday along. Hobie, team up with Jess to locate Miguel. Make sure he's alright and bring him back."

Miles cuts in, skepticism evident. "Bring him back? Isn't he the very reason we're in this mess?"

Gwen sighs, trying to choose her words carefully. "Miguel's a … complicated man. He made choices based on what he believed was best. His actions, while perplexing, stem from good intensions. But he's hurting too, Miles. I've seen it. He’s heartbroken."

Miles scoffs, "A heart;for real? That dude? All I've seen is a cold exterior, mad demands, and an excessive pride."

A glance around the room reveals faces of understanding and sympathy towards Gwen’s perspective. Miles' frustration only grows. "Like seriously? All of you? His heart is straight-up frozen and his ego’s bigger than, like, everything! How y’all even thinking about letting him near your best friend."

"Miles," Peter interjects, his tone both assertive and compassionate, "you might not see the full picture here."

Miles, fire in his eyes, retorts, "It's all of you who are blind. I don’t get what charm he has over you, but that man is dangerous. Ain’t no way I stand by and watch him come near her or the baby again, or any of us for that matter. Y’all better wake up and join me.” Without another word, Miles activates his portal, leaving in a flash.

Gwen and Hobie scramble, attempting to follow or stop him. But Peter, with a resigned sigh, motions them to pause. "Give him time. He'll come around. For now, our priority is locating Sunny and Miguel."

Gwen, though worried, gives a nod. "You're right. We've got pressing matters. Sunny is in a vulnerable state, and we need to find Miguel."

Hobie, after a moment of contemplation, says, "Miles not wrong, though. We need to tread carefully around Miguel. Maybe he’s injured ‘imself, like that Icario bloke who got too close to the sun. Miguel might’ve burned his feathers on our Sunny.”

“Icarus. You mean Icarus.” Gwen corrects him once again with an exaggerated eye roll.

Peter agrees, "Yea, Miguel's actions have consequences, but remember, every story has two sides."

"No, sweetheart, it's MA-MA. Say Ma... Not Da, MA-MA.”

“DADA!”

“Alright, if you won't say it, no toy for you. Come on, my love. Say MA-MA.” Blackmailing a one-and-a-half-year-old might not be your proudest parenting moment, but hearing him chant "dada" incessantly has been grating, particularly when said "dada" is a headstrong egomaniac with a hero complex and an overwhelming urge to save every universe but who seems to have missed saving the one thing that mattered most to both of you.

Sure, he's incredibly attractive and, yes, maybe he looked really hot while being on his knees — but those details are neither here nor there. A soft whisper in the back of your mind suggests that, in the end, he did rescue your boy. But that comforting thought is drowned out by the even louder, more cynical voice reminding you he's the reason the danger existed in the first place.

“Dada?” Gabriel pipes up, his big eyes hopeful.

“No, love, I’m still your MA-MA.” With a resigned sigh, you hand the toy over to the gleeful toddler, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. You then rise, intent on tackling some household chores. Switching on the TV, you tune into the news, curious about the latest happenings in Nea Yorkey.

Since hanging up your mantle as Spider Sun you've tried to distance yourself from the perils of heroism. Given all the challenges you've faced and the traumas you've endured, who could point a finger at you for wanting to step away? Your primary concern now is the tiny human being who looks up at you with eyes full of wonder and innocence.

Yet, a piece of your heart still aches for your city. You've always been someone who believes that one shouldn't stand by in the face of injustice. After all : 'The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.' But now, you're not just a hero, you're a mother too. Balancing those two sides is proving to be quite the challenge and extremely frustrating.

Curiously enough, the city's crime rate isn't surging, even in the absence of a superhero. It's almost as if there's still a vigilantly safeguarding Nea Yorkey in Sun-Spiders absence. But that can't be possible, can it? Wouldn't your spider senses have alerted you if that were the case?

Before your thoughts could spiral any further into the depths of concern, the persistent ringing of the doorbell snapped you back to reality. One glance at the door and an all-too-familiar voice later, you already know who's there.

“Would it kill you to answer sooner? I think I've lost count of how many times I rang. And for the love of all things good, it’s freezing out here!” Melissa, still in her over-dramatic fashion, breezes in, shedding flakes of snow from her vibrant winter boots. “And by the way, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Now, where's my favorite little munchkin?”

Melissa, once Gabriel's 19- year old former babysitter, stepped inside, shaking the snow off her boots onto your doorstep. After the harrowing incident involving the Spiders and your son, she was promptly relieved of her babysitting duties. That was an event you've tried to scrub from your memory, a dark stain you wish you could just wash away. But in the aftermath, you found an unexpected friend in Melissa. She turned out to be a wonderful listener and possessed an uncanny ability to keep Gabriel entertained. He had grown quite fond of her in the short time she cared for him.

While you had resolved never to leave your son unattended again, it was comforting to have Melissa's company.

She’d become someone you could confide in, someone who could effortlessly make Gabriel giggle, and most importantly, someone who filled the echoing silence of your home with warmth and chatter. She is your "guy in the chair." Well, more like "girl in the kitchen chair," but the sentiment still stands.

Truth be told, after distancing yourself from the Spider society, a deep-seated loneliness had settled in. While the world continued to move around you, there was a stillness in your heart. The absence of your closest friends, the void left by Miguel - it all felt like a puzzle with a missing piece.

“Nopedidope, I am not Dada, I am ME-LI-SSA.” she says with a playful tone, then turns sharply towards you. The damp red strands of her hair, wet from the snow, swing gracefully with her movement. "What's with him and 'Dada' all the time?"

You shift uncomfortably, hoping to avoid delving into that topic. "Kids and their phases," you mumble, trying to sound nonchalant.

Melissa studies your face, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "You're looking a little pale there, Sunny. You know what you might be missing?" She raises an eyebrow teasingly. "A bit of Vitamin D?" Her voice drips with insinuation.

In a mock attempt to shield Gabriel, you place a hand over his ears, which only spurs Melissa into laughter. "Come on, he's too young to understand. When was the last time you had a little fun?A month? Or Two?"

You shake your head, not meeting her gaze. Since Miguel, there hasn't been anyone else. Between the birth of Gabriel and the whirlwind that is motherhood, the idea of dating or loving someone else doesn't even cross your mind. No matter the hurt and heartbreak Miguel has caused, the truth is clear: your heart still belongs to him. It always has.

The mere thought of another person comparing to him feels almost blasphemous.

"Sunny!" Melissa's voice draws you out of your trance. "Don't tell me you've had a dry spell since.. well, since well, Gabriel was conceived. No fucking way. Seriously?"

"Let it go, Mel," you interject gently, because while the weight of loneliness presses on you, and the desire for intimate connection tugs at your heartstrings, a longing for human touch, to be seen as more than just 'mom', there's also an undeniable self-consciousness that wraps itself around you. The aftermath of pregnancy has reshaped your body, and though each stretch mark narrates the beautiful journey of your son's creation, they also evoke self-doubt.

Memories of Miguel's adoration flood back. He had a gift for making you feel cherished during your intimate moments. He would take his time, appreciating every inch of you, always emphasizing how much he desired you. The warmth of his fingers, the gentle press of his lips tracing your curves, and the whispered assurances of how much he wanted you. The way his tongue tenderly caressing the swell of your breast, his hot breath tickling your skin and your - Snap the fuck out of it, Sunny!

But the chill of an empty bed the next morning led to those persistent doubts which still plague you today. We’re you not beautiful enough for him to stay? Were you not interesting enough to make him want to hold you when dawn broke?

For someone who always prided herself on not tethering her self-worth to any man, let alone someone as self-absorbed as Miguel, these feelings of desire and yearning were unsettling. A desire for him to truly see you, to understand and love the depth of who you truly are, continued to consume you.

Love? You catch yourself. Where does that come from? Shaking your head, you mentally scold yourself. He's proven himself less than worthy. It's time to regain control and shut your damn heart out.

"I'm taking this little one out to build a snowman, and I'm setting you up on a date. You don't get to say no," Mel declares.

You raise an eyebrow, replying, "Thanks, but no thanks. If Gabriel's going out, I'm coming with. And I'm not looking for any man right now."

Mel rolls her eyes playfully. "Take a breather, Sunny. We're just going to be right outside. You can watch us through the window. Besides, a little rest might give you the energy for the spontaneous date I might arrange for you tonight."

"You're out of your mind," you retort.

She offers a sincere look. "I promise he's in safe hands, and you can keep an eye on us the entire time. But seriously, you look drained. When's the last time you had a good night's rest?"

You sigh, admitting, "I haven't slept well in weeks." It's the truth. Every time you close your eyes, memories of the HQ come flooding back.

Mel, sensing your hesitation, adds, "I'll protect him as if he were my own. You know that, right?"

Taking a deep breath, you let her go, breaking your cardinal rule of never letting Gabriel out of your sight. You just hope it's a decision you won't regret.

"Enjoying that snow, little guy?" Mel teases as Gabriel eagerly stuffs his mouth with a handful of the white fluff. "Careful, you might get a brain freeze." Gabriel giggles, some snow dribbling from his mouth, while Mel concentrates on assembling a little snowman just outside your apartment.

"I'm not sure toddlers should be eating snow like that," a deep voice comments, causing Mel to fumble and drop the snowball meant for the snowman's head. She looks up, scanning for the source of the voice.

A striking man stands there, tall and imposing, with a dark blue winter coat that hints at the powerful build beneath. Slicked-back dark hair contrasts with the most captivating shade of red eyes Mel has ever witnessed. "And you'd be the expert on toddlers?" she inquires with a playful smile.

"No, but I am a father of two," he replies with a hint of sternness, his gaze shifting to Gabriel.

To Mel's astonishment, Gabriel's eyes light up at the sight of the man. The toddler abandons his snowy treat and dashes towards him. Caught off guard, the stranger momentarily stiffens.

Quickly, Mel scoops up Gabriel. "I apologize. He doesn't usually act this way. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

The man offers a curt nod. "It's fine. Just... keep the snow-eating to a minimum." As he begins to walk away, a heartfelt cry of "DADA!" from Gabriel stops him in his tracks.

"Apologies again. He's taken quite a liking to that word recently," Mel says as she notices the man returning, drawn by Gabriel's continuous 'dada' chants.

"Would you mind if I help with the snowman?" the stranger asks, catching Mel off guard. Why would a stranger want to make a snowman with a woman and a child unless he has other intentions? Maybe he's interested in her? Gathering her confidence and a dash of flirtatious playfulness, she replies, "Quite the knight in shining armor you are, offering to help. And here I thought chivalry was extinct."

"Definitely not a knight." Without another word, he starts forming a small snowball, handing it to an elated Gabriel. The child's joy doesn't waver as the stranger settles beside him.

"Then who might you be, if not our knight in snowy armor?"

Mel inquires, with a teasing undertone, trying to uncover a bit more about the handsome stranger who'd seamlessly inserted himself into their snowy afternoon.

The stranger's dark crimson eyes briefly flit to Gabriel before returning to Mel, an unreadable emotion crossing his features.

"Not important."

Mel nods, storing away the information.Well, the lack of information. “Well okay mysterious. I like that. So let's get this snowman built, shall we?"

The trio gets to work. Mel gathers snow, crafting the middle part, while the man starts on the head. The handsome stranger's hands are deft, moving with a surprising grace that contrasts with his brooding exterior. Gabriel seems inexplicably drawn to him.

At first, the toddler pats at the snow with his little mittened hands, but every so often, his bright eyes lift to watch the stranger. Whenever he moves to fetch more snow or adjust the snowman's form, Gabriel eagerly toddles after him, mimicking his every motion with endearing clumsiness.

There's a curiosity in Gabriel's eyes. He reaches out multiple times, trying to touch the mans face or grasp his hand, seeking a connection. To Mel, it seems as though the baby is yearning for the recognition of the stranger and he feels an inexplicable bond with, though she can't quite put a finger on.

The handsome stranger, for his part, can't seem to help himself. He bends down often to adjust Gabriel's scarf or hat, taking every opportunity to interact with the child and help him in a very protective manner, Mel notices.

He smiles softly when Gabriel's tiny hands try to shape the snow, occasionally guiding them with his own much larger ones, demonstrating how to pack the snow just right. At one point, when the snowman's body is nearly complete, Gabriel gives an excited laugh, dropping down to sit in the snow.

The stranger follows suit, sitting beside him. The two of them start creating a tiny snowman just for Gabriel, the man showing him how to roll the snow and place the pieces together.

As they craft the mini snow figure, Gabriel, with his tiny voice, attempts to communicate with his limited vocabulary, pointing at the snow and then at the stranger, as if asking for validation for his creation. “Dada!Dada!” And every time, he gives a nod or a soft chuckle, providing the affirmation the little one seeks. “Yes, you did that buddy! Great job, mijo.”

When Gabriel eventually throws himself into the snow to make a snow angel, the man can't help but laugh genuinely, a sound that seems foreign to his usual stoic behavior. And in his excitement, Gabriel opens his mouth wide in a beaming smile, revealing two tiny fangs. Instantly, the mans eyes glint, a myriad of emotions reflected in them.

The affection and emotion emanating from him is almost touchable. The silent exchanges, the shared smiles, and the comfortable interaction between them, even in the absence of many words, speaks volumes.

Your eyes flare comically with disbelief. "You let a stranger do what?"

Mel, in a bid to downplay the situation, waves her hand dismissively. "Relax. We just built a snowman."

"With my son! Mel, are you out of your mind? No it’s my fault trusting you with my son again! What was his name?"

"He... didn't say."

Your voice rises, "What did he say at all?"

"He's not dangerous, Sunny. He mentioned he's a father, and he's scouting for a new apartment. Asked if there were any vacant ones nearby." Mel pauses, her eyes taking on a dreamy quality. "And Sunny, he was breathtakingly gorgeous. Impossible for someone that handsome to be dangerous. I mean, the man looked like he was carved by the gods with a face even angels would envy.”

You narrow your eyes, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "Enough with you sappy, dreamy nonsense. A vacant apartment? And you don’t find that at all suspicious? So you let a total stranger play with my son without knowing a single thing about him... just because you wanted to sleep with him?"

Mel gulps. "You might've done the same, given the situation. Besides, nothing happened. Why are you overreacting?"

Your voice sharpens. "Overreacting? The fact that you're still standing here and not on the other side of my door means I'm underreacting."

Mel steps back, hands up, "Whoa, calm down, mama bear. Look, I'm sorry. But... I've got something to make it up to you. I messaged Marc, that guy from the café, and guess what? He's super excited to go on a date with you! He'll be here in about..." Mel theatrically checks her wrist, even though she's not wearing a watch, "...twenty minutes."

You can't help but raise an eyebrow. "And he's okay with me bringing my son on the date? After your stunt, there's no way I'm leaving Gabriel with you. Why not set me up with that mystery Adonis you just met instead?"

Mel smirks, "Firstly, ouch. Secondly, don't let your son cockblock you. The plan is: dinner, a stop at his apartment for some dessert, and then you come back here – hopefully a more relaxed and sunny version of yourself, Sunny. Thirdly, Marc is amazing, and Mr. Greek God is off-limits. He's mine."

"No, I’m not going."

Mel pleads, "Come on! Marc was so eager to meet you. He's on his way, so maybe run a brush through your hair? Oh, and speaking of him…" Mel's face falls as she checks her phone, "He just texted me."

She reads aloud, "‘Hey Mel, I don’t know the kind of guys Sunny's been with, but I'm not risking my neck for a date. Sorry, but that dude in front of her house was scary and very serious about his threats.’ WAIT WHAT? Who’s in front of your apartment?”

You shrug and swing the door open to check on what Marc’s mysterious message could mean, revealing Peter B, his fist paused mid-air, ready for a knock. "Hey Sun. Did your spidey-sense catch me?"

It hadn’t. Why hadn't it? Have your once reliable senses dulled with time? Before you can respond, Mel jumps in with her own theory. "Did you chase off her date?"

Peter's brow furrows with confusion. "You had a date, Sunny? Was it the guy sprinting away with a bouquet, looking like he’s seen a monster?" He gestures over his shoulder, trying to pinpoint the fleeing figure.

Mel narrows her eyes at Peter, suspicion clear in her voice. "That was her date, yes. He seemed spooked. You wouldn't happen to know why, would you?"

Peter B throws his hands up defensively. "Hey, deeply mistrusting stranger, I've been encouraging Sunny to get out there for years. " You're immediately reminded of the time he'd tried to set you up with Ben Reilly. “Yea, you don’t look scary enough to spook someone. No offense.”

Sighing, you interject, "Maybe he realized dating a single mom with a toddler wasn’t what he wanted. Either way, I just want a quiet evening to relax and catch up on my favorite show. So thank you both for your unexpected, uninvited surprise visit today but I am tired."

Both Peter and Mel exchange shocked glances. "Sun, I came by to check on you because of... you know, what happened," Peter starts hesitantly.

You nod, taking a deep breath to keep

your emotions in check. "I'm aware, Peter. And I appreciate it. But right now, I'm doing okay. Actually, better than okay. So, I really don’t need help. Please, just give me some space. Both of you."

Mel steps forward, concern evident in her voice. "We're only trying to help here, Sunny. Please, don't shut us out."

"Look," you reply, feeling drained, "there's nothing you can do to help me anymore.You did enough today. Just let me be. My top priority right now is Gabriel. And it's his bedtime."

Peter moves closer, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Just remember, if you ever need anything, please reach out."

You manage a wry smile. "Not sure my phone plan covers inter-dimensional calls, Peter."

After the gentle squeeze, Peter departs, Mel following close behind. As the door softly clicks shut, the weight of loneliness and grief descends upon you after seeing Peter, a part of your past, again. The walls of the apartment seem to close in, amplifying the echoing silence. It all feels suffocating. An emptiness weighs on your heart, and no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to escape its grasp. The reminders of all you've lost and nearly lost play on a loop in your mind.

So there you stand, in the quiet of your bedroom, leaning against the windowsill, breathing in the chilled nightair, while the world and your little baby boy are fast asleep. Emotions threaten to consume you, feelings you can no longer lock away, fearing they'll devour you from the inside. And in this moment, you speak out, though there's no one there to hear. No one to hold you close, no one to offer comfort for your broken soul. "Are you happy now? Did you manage to save the universe? Fix up every black hole? Then why did you leave one black whole in my heart? Why didn't you fix that,huh? Why am I not worthy of being saved by you?

You might fool the people around you, they see you as this scary untouchable figure, shielded by layers. But not me. I see through it all. Beneath that facade, you're just as shattered. I tried to piece you together, but where did that lead me? Broken, just like everything else you touch. And I won't let you near him. I won’t let you break him, you hear me? No, of course not.How could you hear me. You're universes away from me. Why? Are you afraid to get cut by the shards of the broken heart that you left?

I hate you Miguel O’ Hara. I hate you for breaking me. You left behind fragments only you can touch, and I hate you for it. For shattering me and then leaving me alone. I hate you.”

You wiped away the tears that escaped your eyes and closed the window, oblivious to the subtle shadowy silhouette that shifted just beyond the windowpane; "I'll mend your fractured rays, mi sol, so you shine whole again.“

A whisper, lost within the night shadows, never reaching your ears.

The gleaming city spread out beneath, its nighttime heartbeat pulsating with a soft electric energy. High atop one of its buildings, Miguel stands, casting a shadow on the walls of the room where his son sleeps peacefully. The warm lights from the streets below give off a soft glow, just enough for him to see Gabriel’s tiny chest rising and falling.

"So, you're staying here now? Just watching over Universe 586?" A familiar voice breaks the silence, and Miguel looks up to see Jessica Drew, her red and white suit glinting under the streetlights. "I never thought I'd witness the great O'Hara, savior of the universes, now guarding just two souls."

Miguel's jaw tightens. "Go away, Jess."

She lands beside him gracefully, her tone challenging. "Are you stalking your own child? Or seeking redemption from Sunny?"

"You don't get it, Jessica."

"On the contrary," she shoots back, her eyes intense, "I understand more than anyone else. I saw how you felt about her all those years ago. And I see it now. You were afraid, weren’t you?"

"I'm not afraid of anything," Miguel replies, defiance lacing his tone. "But I am not good enough for her light."

Jessica exhales, her voice softening. "And who made you the judge of that? Because according to Sunny’s emotional outburst, you're more than deserving." He clenches his fists, the weight of regret pulling at him. "I had my shot at happiness with Gabriella, and I lost it. People like me, Jess, we don't get second chances."

She points to the window, to the serene image of Gabriel. "That's your second chance, Miguel. Right there."

His eyes well up, the gravity of his mistakes reflecting in his eyes. "I almost killed him. How can I even begin to forgive myself for that?"

"But you didn't," she whispers, her voice filled with conviction. "And you wouldnt have hurt him or else you would have done it immediately. I saw you, Mig.”

A third voice joined them, and Peter B. swings over, landing with ease beside the two. "She's right, Miguel. I watched you with him, the tenderness, the love. It was there, even before you knew who he was to you."

Miguel shakes his head, shutting both of them out. His gaze is hard, still fixated on Gabriel. "I can't go back. They're better off without me. Besides, you heard her. She hates me."

Peter stepsforward, his gaze intense. "That's utter bullshit. I know Sunny. She’s strong, fierce, and forgiving. We heard her loud and clear and this woman loves you more than anything. Don't let fear rob you of your family."

Peters words hang in the air, and just as Miguel is about to reply, a shrill,ear-piercing cry cuts through the silence. His spider-sense goes haywire, a ripple of unease running down his spine. Without a second's hesitation, he dashes toward the source of the sound, leaving Jessica and Peter behind.

Inside, Miguel finds Gabriel crying, tears streaking his small face. Instinctively, Miguel scoops him up, the little boy immediately nestling into the familiar crook of his father's neck and calms down. “Hey, my little spider. Daddy ‘s here, don’t cry. What got you so scared?” he coos, spotting Gabriel's favorite toy on the floor. Miguel retrieved Gabriel's favorite toy from the floor, a routine he'd secretly adopted every night when, after falling asleep, the little one inevitably dropped it. With practiced ease, he nestled it back into the baby's grasp.

But before he can fully relax, Miguel's spider-sense jolts him again. Looking up, he sees a familiar, dark-clad figure hovering, hands sparking ominously.

“Drop the child, Miguel.”

a/n: Hey guys, part 4 is finally here! Thanks for your patience and all the love you've shown me. While I initially thought Part 4 would be the conclusion, I've decided to extend Miguel's character and redemption arc, so we'll wrap up with Part 5. I'm already deep into writing it, so you won't have to wait as long. I truly appreciate all your feedback and support. You've all been wonderful. Remember to stay safe, stay hydrated, and always prioritize your mental well-being. Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter! 🤍

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(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER SIXTEEN: maybe a phase?

masterlist

“Didn’t expect this many people to show up,” Megumi mumbled to the pink-haired boy beside him.

“I like it! It’s like our very own cult!” Yuji exclaimed; his eyes sparkling as he licked his lips in anticipation.

The raven rolled his eyes at the remark. He wasn’t wrong though. With the turnout of the event, you could start a small religion.

Fans gathered in eager clusters; their faces lit with anticipation as they waited for their moment with the band. Laughter echoed around him, a stark contrast to the knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. Megumi felt like a marionette, expertly performing his role while his heart remained tethered to unspoken thoughts.

“Megumi, can you finish the heart?”

He suppresses a mental groan at yet another familiar request, but he obliges, nonetheless.

That definitely must have been the hundredth one. With a practised smile, he lifts his hand, expertly completing the heart shape as the girl beams through the screen. The phone obscures her face, leaving him with only a sense of her enthusiasm.

Around him, the atmosphere of the fan meet-and-greet buzzes with energy. His bandmates are in their element, laughing and joking with fans, their easy conviviality filling the air with warmth. They engage with their admirers, sharing stories and creating moments that spark joy, their carefree spirits a stark contrast to his mood - enjoying themselves.

Having fun.

As he stands there, a twinge of envy bubbles beneath the surface. Here he is, moping over a girl who seems not to want anything to do with him. Well, anything but his dick. While everyone else is immersed in genuine interaction, he can’t shake the feeling of being sidelined and lost in his thoughts while the world around him pulses with life and laughter.

why would i care?

His heart panging as he replayed the text message he had received days ago, each word lingering like a haunting refrain. Was it wrong to feel this way? To sense that everything he had shared was merely a facade, a carefully crafted performance for someone who never truly saw him.

He couldn’t shake the unsettling realization that he felt like nothing more than a fleeting moment in her life—a one-night stand disguised as something deeper. The weight of this realization pressed down on him, an oppressive reminder that his emotions felt tossed aside as if he were just an afterthought in a narrative that didn’t include him.

The feeling of being used gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Every time he revisited that moment, a tight knot formed in his stomach, an ache that echoed his longing for something genuine. He craved a connection that resonated beyond the surface and spoke to his heart and soul rather than just his body. As the days passed, that yearning only deepened, leaving him in a cycle of doubt and self-reflection, questioning what it truly meant to be seen and valued.

Whatever. Fuck Yn. She can go fuck herself. I don’t fucking need her. Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck-

“Oh my god! I’m such a huge fan!” The enthusiastic voice sliced through his thoughts, yanking him back to the chaotic reality of the event.

He quickly summoned his best faux smile, a mask he had perfected through countless encounters.

“Hey! Thank you so much, I really appreciate it,” he replied, glancing down at the array of items sliding his way to autograph—each one a reminder of the crushing expectations he felt.

The fan leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I just have one question for you.”

“Shoot,” he said, keeping his voice steady, though a flicker of tension danced beneath the surface.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

He chuckled at the unexpected question, shaking his head. “I do not.”

“Then who’s that girl you’re always with?” she asked, tilting her head curiously.

“Dunno who you’re talking about,” he said, trying to keep his composure as he continues signing.

“Yes, you do!” she insisted, her voice rising with excitement as she grips the edge of the table.

As she continued to speculate about this so-called girlfriend, Megumi felt something inside him unravel. Maybe it was the sting of her silence in their last conversation, the way she had left him on read, leaving him feeling a little shattered. Or perhaps it was the sheer exhaustion of the endless meet-and-greet, where each interaction felt like a rehearsed line in a play he no longer wished to perform. The walls felt as if they were closing in, the air thick with unspoken feelings and unresolved questions.

Something snapped.

“She’s not my girlfriend, she’s just some random bitch who sluts herself out and calls it fun.”

The words escaped him before he could rein them in.

A heavy silence settles between them; the fan was stunned into stillness by his choice of words — and profanity. His eyes dropped to the phone in her hands, and dread washed over him as he realises she was recording.

Fuck.

extras!

• hey siri play she’s just a phase by puma blue

• cue the megumi fumble arc

• megumi crash out video: 2 minutes long

• poor gojo had a heart attack when he got that pop bae notification (he hates dealing with the press)

• he put on notifs ever since they posted a pic of him and suguru walking out of a hotel together hand in hand LMFAO

• yn was standing in one spot just furiously tapping at her phone and panda asked if she was playing fruit ninja

• he got sent to his room after that

• nobara saw the video first (mainly bc she was on twitter at the time. who’s surprised?)

• told yn to brace herself and showed her it

• yn made 7 hate accounts during the uber to sukuna’s

• that girl mad as hell😂😂🤣🤦‍♀️

• i hope they don’t hook up!!

• side eye dog meme

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @ichcocat @laughingfcx @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @starantulas @1l-ynn @sluttkuna @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

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changbunnies · 20 days ago

Text

Angel of Music (18+)

♡ Pairing: Phantom!Minho x Opera Singer Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: phantom of the opera inspired au, horror themes, dark romance, age gap, smut, dead dove? read the warnings carefully and come to ur own conclusion on what you're willing to read before engaging pls :'), the ending is also a lil dark, sorry!

♡ Word Count: 5.8k

♡ Summary: A phantom exists in the opera house– he controls every production from the shadows, lurks around every dark corner, always watching. In your dreams exists an angel– a guardian that sings to you, guides you, and comforts you. When The Phantom appears before you in your dressing room mirror, you begin to realize that he and your angel may be one in the same.

♡ General Warnings: slightly less extreme age gap than the source material that inspires this fic but it's still fairly large (reader is ~mid 20s and minho is ~40), briefly described attempted murder of minor characters, implications of stalking, hypnotism, hallucinations + doubts of reality, so much usage of the words "phantom" and "angel" it's not even funny, this fic is not an accurate representation of how hypnotism works irl but it's fiction so i'm taking liberties!

♡ Smut Warnings: dubcon (due to reader being hypnotized), additionally to not being in their proper state of mind, there are also moments in which reader does not feel to be in full control of their body, light dom/sub dynamics, soft pleasure dom!minho because i want more of him !!, mask kink (does it still count if the mask doesn't cover his whole face?? idk i hope so!), some biting, oral (f rec), overstim, multiple orgasms

♡ Notes: i've known for ages that i wanted to write a phantom!minho fic, and my kinktober series gave me the perfect reason to finally write it! also the fact that both my uploaded minho fics are age gap romances?? that was not intentional i swear lmao

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

All inhabitants of the opera house have been on edge these days– consequence of the new owners of the Opera Populaire, who decided to disregard all of The Phantom's demands.

The Phantom, as the name suggests, is a ghost story of sorts. According to your castmates, he has been here since long before you joined the Opera Populaire's trainees last year, but his activity has begun to increase since your arrival.

He controls all in the opera house, and his demands of the previous owner were always quite simple; perform what shows he instructs you to, follow his casting down to the letter, and keep the seats in Box Five free at all times. Evidentially, Box Five is his favorite place to watch the shows from– and sometimes, his dark silhouette can be spotted in the shadows of the booth, indiscernible but unmistakably there.

No one has ever truly seen The Phantom beyond a shadow, nor have they heard him speak. He communicates with notes, always left within feet of the recipient without anyone having seen him come or go. His notes will even appear in broad daylight, with not a single person having caught a glimpse of him despite all the eyes in the room.

Well, more accurately, no one has seen him apart from the Madame– an older woman who used to be a performer for the Opera Populaire herself, but has taken the role of choreographer since her retirement from the stage. In the 15 years it's been since The Phantom made his presence known to the opera house, she's the only one who's ever seen him, or heard his voice.

A brief encounter, she explained when asked about it– had barely seen him for more than a few passing moments. He spoke little, but the beauty of his voice was striking, completely unlike any other she’d ever heard. And all he asked of her, in that fleeting moment, was to remember that the Opera Populaire is his home– and as long as the inhabitants respect him, he'll respect them in turn.

The previous director, the Madame, and The Phantom all had a mutual understanding of what was to be done. As long as they listened to him, shows would go off without a hitch; but refuse, and there'd be dire consequences. As such, the Madame has been doing her best to express the importance of listening to The Phantom to the new owners.

The Monsieurs view it as no more than silly superstition– every opera house has their own beliefs and customs, things they consider good and bad luck before a show, things they view as omens of a show's future success. The Phantom is simply one of those things– and with a guiding hand, they can dispel such superstitions, show the cast and crew that there is no shadowy phantom to fear.

The first note left for the Monsieurs went disregarded– a barking laugh leaving the elder of the two before he tossed it in the bin. The instructions on the note were clear enough– you were to take the role of Eurydice in the opera house's production of Orpheus and Eurydice, and not Carlotta, as they originally casted.

You were just as baffled as everyone else to learn that The Phantom wanted you to take such an important role– you'd only been here a year, were still so new to your opera training. It's true enough that you have a good voice, and your dancing has improved with all your diligent practice, but you're still young, and the tragic role of Eurydice is not so easily performed.

Natural talent for bringing emotion to performance aside, you lack stage experience– experience that you can easily gain from background roles. To make you such a crucial stand-out role after only a year of training was simply unheard of– no opera house would do it!

This is to be your first production, your first time on stage in front of an audience; and so regardless of what The Phantom wants, Monsieur Reyer opted to keep you strictly in the supporting chorus roles, where you would go from shepherdess, to nymph, to spirit as the acts progressed. Not a glamorous, shining position in the cast by any means, but more than enough to help familiarize you with the reality of performing with hundreds of eyes watching.

It wouldn't take long for The Phantom to make his displeasure with the decision known. And what started off as just small accidents and stage mishaps quickly turned violent and dangerous as each week passed with you still not given the role that The Phantom felt you deserved to have.

The first violent turn came during rehearsals for Act 3, right in the middle of Eurydice's climactic aria, when the chandelier above the stage came crashing down. Carlotta was standing directly beneath it just before it fell, and it narrowly missed her– purely because she happened to take a few steps forward whilst singing.

“An unfortunate accident,” the Monsieurs said, “it had nothing to do with The Phantom!” But the veterans of the opera house knew better– and the conductor swore he saw a dark shadow on the scaffolds just before the chandelier fell; a shadow that could belong to none other than The Phantom.

Carlotta screamed as it crashed just mere inches away from her, right where she's just been standing, and cried as everyone rushed to her side to ensure that she was unharmed. Again, the Madame tried to persuade them to heed The Phantom before another such “accident” occurred.

"Good God in Heaven, you're all obsessed! These things just happen sometimes– there is no phantom!" Reyer cried in exasperation over everyone's insistence, still unwilling to give in to the idea that the opera house's ghost was real.

And tonight, just after rehearsals came to a close, another terrible stage accident occurred– this time happening to Monsieur Reyer himself. He was up on the scaffolding when it happened, making sure all the stagehands properly rigged the lights in preparation for tomorrow night's premiere of Orpheus and Eurydice.

He was bent down, inspecting the bulbs and wires, when a dark figure appeared behind him. The shadow wrapped a noose around his neck faster than anyone could even react, pushed him off the scaffolding before swiftly retreating back to the shadows.

Reyer almost didn't survive– he was lucky that the nearby stagehands were quick on their feet and in their wits, managing to grab his arms and pull him up while another cut the rope that served to hang the poor man. And as if the message from the accidents alone weren't clear enough, another note was left behind right in the middle of the stage.

It was astounding, really, that not a single person saw The Phantom leave the note behind– and while some could argue that it was because all eyes were on Reyer, or because the stage became chaos as they worked to save him, the Monsieurs realized that maybe they should start to believe that there really is a ghost inhabiting the Opera Populaire.

The moment the note was noticed, the Madame picked it up, and read it aloud for all to hear. "Again, I remind you that Y/N will play the role of Eurydice. As I instruct, Box Five shall remain open for my use. These seats will not be used by another. This is my final warning– disregard at your own risk."

Realizing they had no choice, lest they wish to continue putting themselves and other cast and crew in danger, the Monsieurs begrudgingly declared you the new Eurydice, right then and there.

Given that you're at every rehearsal, you know Eurydice's lines by heart, and are confident that you can sing them well– but still, you're nervous. It's your first production, the premiere is sold out, is set for tomorrow night, and suddenly you're in one of the most pivotal roles in the entire opera.

You don't even understand why The Phantom is so adamant about giving the role to you; what is it about you that he likes, what is it that he sees in you? You wish you could ask the Madame, but she met him so fleetingly, and so many years ago– she has no way of knowing The Phantom's heart beyond an educated guess.

Sitting before your dressing room mirror, you sigh, utterly exhausted– now that you're Eurydice, it was vital that you do a last minute costume fitting and makeup test. As such, you've been in the opera house hours past the time you'd normally be here. The moon hangs high in the sky now, you're sure; you wonder if you should just spend the night here, sleep in the dressing room instead of making a late trek home.

Regardless, you hope your angel comes to you tonight. You know no one would believe you if you told them, but you really do have a guardian angel; and in your dreams, he comes to you– always when you are most lost and in need of guidance. He's a gentle, calming presence; always comforts you, talks to you sweetly when you're filled with self doubt, sings to you in the most beautiful of voices.

You've never actually seen your angel clearly– only heard his voice calling your name and whispering, singing, in a way that could only be described as angelic in its serenity. In your dreams, he's nothing but a vague, blurry image– even at his most clear, you can't define any of his features.

Still, you think of him fondly– and you suspect that as an angel, you aren't meant to be able to fully perceive him. And your angel always, always, knows when you need him– you suspect that even now, he's waiting; waiting for the moment you fall asleep, so that he can come to your side.

You look at yourself, still dressed as Eurydice. A beautiful, off shoulder bateau gown in the prettiest, purest ivory. There's lace appliques throughout the gown, has a beautiful cinched bodice before the tulle skirt fluffs out. It's elegant, makes you feel like a bride waiting to walk down the aisle.

Your makeup shimmers– extra glitter applied on your eyelids to make sure the stage lights catch it. Your jewelry too, is extravagant– made to sparkle and shine every time a light shines on you, to twinkle with each subtle move you make. It's a shame you have to take it all off just to put it all back on tomorrow– but the effort to make sure everything fits you was necessary.

You reach your hands up to one of your ears, prepare to remove one of your dangling earrings when you hear a voice you know all too well call your name– your angel's voice.

You look around the room, bewildered, but see nothing and no one. And surely you were mistaken– you're still awake! Your angel only comes to you in dreams, and you haven't fallen asleep... right? You are still awake, aren't you?

Again, you hear his voice, another whisper of your name. You rise from your chair, look around the room once more– no one. You turn back to the dressing room mirror, and jump in surprise, realizing that the view reflected in it has changed. You no longer see yourself, or the reflection of the dressing room around you– instead, you see a man.

He looks just as the Madame described her memory of The Phantom– dark hair, and even darker eyes, with a white mask that covers the right half of his face. Not completely– just from his hairline, down to his pretty, plump lips. Every inch of his skin is covered, head to toe, all of his clothes pure black apart from the ornate red vest.

Sleek boots and dark trousers, a tall collar that obscures most of his neck, long sleeves that cover his arms, even gloves covering his hands. He wears a cape, long and as dark as the rest of his clothes, and it blows behind him as if there’s a breeze rolling through.

You’re confused, a little frightened, but you can’t tear your eyes away or will yourself to flee– and as the figure speaks your name, you gasp; he truly has the voice of your angel. But he’s The Phantom, isn’t he?

The blurry, vague scenery behind him begins to sharpen, coming more distinctly visible to your uncertain eyes. A dark corridor full of candelabra, glowing in dull yellows and shades of orange, held by incorporeal hands with no discernable origin.

What little of your dressing room you see in your peripheral shifts and warps as you stare at him, blur together into dark shadows as the table holding your hairbrush and makeup begin to fade and disappear, leaving the view through the mirror as the only thing you can see.

The figure– your angel, The Phantom?– holds his hand out to you through the mirror, as if the glass that should separate you no longer exists; perhaps it doesn't. Smoke– or maybe fog, mist? you can't be certain– pours into the room as you approach the mirror.

As if under a spell, you reach out to take his hand, thinking not of logic as you follow the beckoning call of your name. Your angel; you trust your angel. He smiles as you place your hand in his, and carefully, you step through the mirror, into the corridor.

Entranced, you stare at him; even with half a mask covering his face, he's utterly beautiful. He appears to be older than you, hints of fine lines beholden around his mouth and eyes, and even that adds to his mysterious charm. He holds your gaze as he takes a step back, a candelabra in his hand now, beckoning you to follow him down the corridor.

You squeeze his hand as you follow, and finally he turns around, walks with purpose as he guides you, glancing behind every so often to look at you in what you think to be adoration. You too, glance behind– and where the mirror once stood is now a desolate, barren wall.

You do not see any hint of your dressing room, or of the mirror you stepped through. And as you continue further down the corridor, the candelabra that were once behind you slowly begin to blink out and vanish from sight, leaving only pitch black darkness behind. A spiral staircase made of stone manifests, and you descend it, hand in hand with your angel.

You're so enchanted and bewildered, you can't seem to find your voice– all you can do is follow, let him guide you along to where it is he wants you to be. Even the staircase dissipates when you've finished descending, and for just a moment, you wonder– is any of this truly real?

Finally, you stand in the middle of a beautiful room, lit candles both resting in more candelabra and strewn about the floor, with dark, intricately woven tapestries hanging from the stone walls. There’s a grand piano, sleek black with gold accents, with even more candles resting atop it, as well as a sheet of music sitting pristine on the music desk, black ink seemingly freshly dried, just waiting to be played.

There are several mirrors, though only one remains uncovered– the rest are obscured by cloth, for reasons you do not know. There is a bed, in what you suppose would be called a “corner” in this otherwise circular space, inviting and plush in its appearance, with blankets colored a rich red. Naturally, candles surround the bed as well, covering it in a beautifully soft, yellow-orange glow.

“Where are we?” you finally find your voice to ask, and the man smiles as he beckons you to follow him towards his bed. “We are home,” he replies, and though it’s a strange answer, you feel you understand– yes, you are home. This is home.

You gaze at him curiously after you sit on the bed, just as comfortable as you expected it to be, and he mimics the way you’ve tilted your head at him. “You’re.. My angel, aren’t you? Or are you The Phantom?” you ask, and the man laughs ever so softly, melodious and beautiful.

“I am Minho,” he responds, as if that alone is a sufficient enough answer– in a way, you suppose it is. What else is there to know? He is Minho. That is enough.

“I have longed to touch you, to bring you here,” Minho whispers as he reaches one of his gloved hands to your face, strokes your cheek slowly, gently. The sensation, though simple, feels so tender– it sparks something inside you, fills you with a warmth you’ve never felt before. You close your eyes, bask in the comfort his touch provides you.

You feel his hand move, travel down until his fingers are under your chin. He tilts your head up, and you open your eyes to see him gazing down at you warmly. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, speaking to you as gently as he always does. He’s said it before, in your dreams– that you are beautiful, talented, deserving of all you wish to have.

He never lets you linger on self-doubt, never allows you to think you are lesser than someone else, or undeserving of the opportunities you’ve been granted. Your angel knows you– you think he’s appearing to you now, like this, because he knows you are uncertain of playing Eurydice; he must think that he needs to remind you of just how special you are.

All of your doubts about tomorrow’s premiere– he will dispel them from your mind, as he always does. He kneels before you, gazing at you carefully as he inches closer to you, his hands softly rubbing over your shoulders and down your arms. His attentive stare as he caresses you makes you breathing quicken, your heart starting to pick up speed.

“Do you trust me?” Minho asks suddenly, and with not an ounce of hesitation, you nod. You’ve no reason not to trust him– in the year it's been since your angel first appeared to you, you’ve always trusted him. There is no one else that makes you feel so secure, so at peace, so.. Loved, cared for. Yes, your angel, Minho, loves you, cares for you like no other. You trust him.

“I wish to clear your mind of worry and doubt– to make you think only of me, and the music we can make together. I wish to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you," he says, and oh, he knows he shouldn’t be pouring his heart out like this, for it’s too soon, much too soon. But he’s been enamored with you since the first moment you stepped into the Opera Populaire, has been infatuated with you since first hearing the passion in your voice.

He can’t help it, it seems– now that he has you here, in his lair, his defenses falter, all of his desires pouring out of him. To have you here, and to touch you like this, even so simply– it’s everything he’s wanted. And instantly, unconsciously, you reach out to him. Your angel sees you, knows you– you wish to know him too, to understand him the way he does you.

Your mind is somehow as clear as it is hazy– clear, because you know what it is that you want. Regardless of who he is, what he is, you want Minho to have you. Anything he wants, you feel compelled to give, as if it’s all you know; and in this moment, perhaps it is. In the very back reaches of your addled mind, a reminder blares– The Phantom always gets what he wants.

And what he wants now, most of all, is you; and despite what logic may tell you to feel, you trust him to have you. He sees all that you feel in your expression alone, knows all that you think as if he’s seen into the depths of your mind. Even now, perhaps more than ever before, he sees you.

Sees all that you are, and all that you want– and a charming smile plays on his lips as you gaze at him with wanton desire to let him take you. To let him have, to give yourself over– you wish to offer yourself wholly to your angel’s desires.

Your eyes flutter closed as he kisses you, a soft press that you could almost call chaste, his hands slowly moving over your body, each soft touch lingering. You don’t feel his gloves anymore, you realize– did he take them off without you noticing? You suppose it doesn’t matter– his hands are warm, a bit rough and calloused against the soft skin of your arms, and you like it.

Even as his kisses become less chaste, deepen as his hands travel to your hips, they remain slow and purposeful. His hands eventually find the bottom of your dress, begin to lift it ever so slowly up your thighs– not to expose you, but so that he can slot himself between your legs. Somehow, innately, you understand this– and easily, you spread your legs for him, allowing him to find his place between them.

His arms wrap around you after, pulling you closer, pressing your body to his. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly by the time he pulls away, breathless as you look to him with eager, impassioned eyes– a gaze that heats his otherwise cold heart. You reach up, bring your hands to his face; he nearly flinches when you touch his mask, though he knows you mean no harm.

Minho feels himself ugly under his mask– too scarred and disfigured to be appealing to you in any regard; at least like this, with only the good parts of his face on display, you may find him handsome. Your touch is as soft as your gaze, and though perhaps you should, you make no move to remove his mask; you simply rub your thumb over the cold porcelain.

It’s a vulnerable thing, really– how softly you touch his ugliest spots. It doesn’t matter that you can’t see them from beneath his mask– the tender regard you seem to feel for him, even without having seen the scars that mar him, is more than enough. It’s ironic, in a way, that you seem to think he’s an angel; in reality, the only angel in this room is you.

“I want to please you, if you'll let me,” he breathes as his fingertips ghost over your thighs. It makes your breath hitch, blinking at him slowly as you process his intent. There is much your angel wants– but chasing the pleasure of his own flesh isn’t one of those things. He doesn’t need it to feel satisfied; your pleasure will more than suffice him.

His dark eyes bore into yours as he awaits your answer, can tell from his wanting gaze how serious he is about pleasing you, and it makes your cheeks slowly bloom with heat. And it’s not just what he wants– it’s what he needs, really; when you surrender yourself to him, he wants it to be for your pleasure, not his own.

“Oh, please– touch me,” you answer, plead– because something from deep inside you screams for it, wanting it beyond all comprehension. Your darkest, most innate desires manifest for him; desires that you didn’t even fully realize you had. They possess you, drive you to kiss him again, urgent and passionate.

Minho returns your kiss with equal fervor, lets his tongue slip past his lips to meet yours. They share a dance, swirl around each other until you’re breathless again; and then he’s guiding you back, urging you to lay down as he hovers over you. He pulls the skirt of your dress further up your body, until your thighs are entirely exposed and he can see your dampening panties.

He lowers himself to you, but doesn’t go immediately where you expect him too– he takes his time trailing wet, lingering kisses over your thighs instead. Your inner thighs are sensitive, ticklish, and you can’t help but squirm from each kiss he grants you.

You also can’t help but jolt each time the cool porcelain of his mask presses against the hot skin of your thigh, and again when he carefully sinks his teeth into your pliant flesh. He doesn't do it hard enough to hurt, or even fully leave indents of his teeth behind– just enough to leave you panting and squirmy; and he lets out a soft, airy laugh every time he succeeds in the endeavor.

Your bunched up skirt is so full that you can hardly even watch him work you up; but there are times, while kissing and biting over your trembling thighs, that he lifts his head just enough to let you catch his gaze. It makes your heart skip a beat, butterflies dancing in your stomach every time he locks eyes with you while kissing around where you need him most.

You reach a point where you’re no longer squirming because his attention tickles, but because you’re becoming desperate, impatient; and the way he stares at you as he does it all doesn't help in the slightest. “Minho, please,” you whine, shameless; and you can feel him smile against your skin before he lifts himself up from his place between your legs.

“Needy are we, angel?” he asks, grinning as you pout and nod. “Need you,” you mumble, but he hears you loud and clear; he’s attuned to you, your angel is. He lowers himself between your thighs once more, kisses your pussy over your panties– and it’s not quite what you need, but it’s enough to have you gasping and quivering.

Again, he takes his time, as if not a single ounce of urgency resides within him. And make no mistake, it does– but Minho knows how to restrain himself. He’s a stubborn man, that is certainly true, but he’s also perfectly in control of himself; for now, anyways.

And he likes the way you whine for him when you feel his tongue lick you up over the fabric of your panties. It’s not a full enough feeling for you, or a full enough taste of your pussy for him, but the desperate, whiny sounds it draws out of you are delicious enough to satisfy him.

Still, while he’s enjoying the way his soft kisses and kitten licks over your panties is making you writhe and cry for him, he also can’t deny how badly he wants to finally taste you directly on his tongue. He’s been patient enough, he thinks, and so have you– why not indulge just a little sooner than planned?

In contrast to how sweetly he’s treated you up to this point, he’s quick to tear your panties away from your body. The sound of the fabric ripping makes you gasp, and maybe later he’ll apologize– but for now, lapping his tongue between your folds is of more importance. You moan when his tongue finally meets your bare pussy, as does Minho– and despite the hunger that he feels, he continues to lick you over slowly.

The languid pace makes you crazy– you want more, so much more, but your angel has been waiting for this; he needs to take his time with you, needs to embed the taste of your dripping sex on his tongue, needs to make sure it’s something he’ll never be able to forget. And he isn’t trying to tease you by keeping the slow pace– well, maybe he is a little; he does enjoy it, after all– but he’s sincerely craved this for too long to let the moment quickly pass him by.

He brings his hands to your thighs, squeezing them in his hands and preventing you from closing them around his head. You’re sure it’s partly so he can keep you spread out for him, to keep enjoying the easy access to your pussy, but it’s also so that your trembling thighs don’t cause his mask to shift, and fall from his face.

You gasp when the cool, smooth and rigid porcelain covering the right side of his nose bumps your clit as he shoves his tongue into your hole. And while he isn’t purposely trying to get you to cum just yet, his slow but diligent ministrations are getting you there regardless– with his tongue dipping in and out of your heat, always pushing in as deep as he can make it go, and his mask-covered nose nudging your clit.

You let your head fall back against the bed, your every high pitched whimper and moan echoing off the stone walls surrounding you. You try to tell him you’re going to cum, but you fail miserably– all that leaves you is a quick succession of whines before your eyes are rolling, back bowing off the bed as release on his tongue. Minho moans with you, hums happily as he licks the mess from your pussy like the cat that got the cream.

He laves over your clit when he’s done licking up your cum– and it's sensitive, swollen from your orgasm; but that doesn’t stop him from swirling his tongue around it, and positively knocking the air from your lungs. The sensation is overwhelming, he knows it is even without you telling him, but it’s still so good that you don’t want to squirm away, or ask him to stop– or perhaps you can’t.

You get the distinct feeling that even if you tried, your limbs would resist, would fight to keep you in place– despite your best efforts, you would remain just as you are now. Spread open and trembling, exactly how Minho wants you. “You make the prettiest music, angel,” he separates from you long enough to speak, “want you to keep singing for me.”

And sing for him you do when he dives back in, flicks your clit with his tongue a few times before wrapping his lips around it, sucking it like a piece of hard candy. Your moans, the smacking sounds of his lips, the way he hums when he returns to your hole to collect the cream– it’s an orchestra, just for the two of you.

You cum again in record time, of course you do. Minho finds it cute, the way you incoherently babble away as you let go for him again. And he isn’t done just because you came again– no, he’s far from finished with your pussy. He doesn’t tire in the slightest, ceaseless in the way he lavishes with you his tongue and suckles with his pretty, perfect lips.

When you cum for the third time, you don’t even know if you truly ever stop cumming at all– the pleasure just keeps coming in waves, never fully receding before it builds again, washing over you like a tsunami before it all repeats. You writhe and twist, back repeatedly bowing off his bed before falling back, but your thighs stay spread for him, even when his hands stop holding them down.

His hands have found their way beneath you, cupping and squeezing your ass as he eats away. Your hips wriggle, and he helps grind you up against his face, moaning and humming all the while. It’s too much and not enough all at once; your body screams that it can’t take it, and yet your mind screams that it needs more, and God, you can’t think straight– but is there any point in this night that you were?

You’re hot and heaving, sweat dripping from your brow as you tremble and bend. Minho is hot too, of course– his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, his face red from his cheeks to his ears, and even down his neck. And were you not so far gone, you’d have noticed that his mask has shifted and fallen from his face.

It was because of you, too– when another high took you and tugged on his hair hard, crying as your hips jolted and bucked against his face. He should’ve swiftly put it back on, lest you see his scars, but he didn’t– he just shoved it aside, against his better judgment, so he could keep licking you up without interruption.

You feel positively delirious by the time he’s finished, eyes heavy and bleary, body utterly limp and boneless. He crawls his way up to you, and your gaze is unfocused, blurry; you can hardly distinguish his features anymore– similar to the way he always appeared in your dreams before now.

Regardless, you smile at him before you close your eyes; a weak, but content one that Minho finds oh so endearing. You’re beyond fatigued, but also feel an unmatched sense of elation as your angel strokes your head and whispers sweet nothings for you to fall asleep to. “You belong to me now,” you hear him say, just before you drift off– and you know it’s true.

You think, perhaps, you’ve always belonged to him. From the very first moment Minho saw you, he knew he was never going to let you go. And just as Orpheus had done for Eurydice, he’d gladly walk into the depths of Hades itself if that’s what it took to keep you by his side.

He gently caresses your cheek as you fall into a deeper sleep, presses a soft kiss to your lips and whispers a final soft utterance of love before he covers you with a blanket, and your mind goes completely dark for the night.

You wake the next day with a struggle– at least, you think it’s the next day; it’s too dark in the room you’re in to tell for certain. You reach out for Minho, but don’t feel him anywhere– and as you sit up, and your eyes adjust to the darkness, you realize that you are alone. Your brows furrow as you look around; you’re still in his room, but it doesn’t look quite the same.

There are no candles, not on the floor or in the candelabra that now lie empty. The tapestries adorning the walls are torn and dulled in color, the piano dusty and the gold decorating it chipped. The sheet of music that sits on the piano’s music desk, that last night looked so fresh and pristine, now appears weathered and yellowed.

As you grab the blanket to pull it off you, you realize it isn't a blanket at all that is covering you, but a cape– Minho’s cape. And on the bed, just an arm’s reach away from you lies a note– the same kind that The Phantom always leaves behind inside the Opera Populaire.

Your hand trembles as you pick it up, eyes straining to read it in the darkness. The message he leaves behind, when your eyes focus on the words well enough to read them, is quite simple. “To my beloved and beautiful Eurydice; welcome home.”

#skz x reader #lee know x reader #skz smut #lee know smut #skz fanfic #lee know fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune #don't ask me how many times i listened to the poto soundtrack while writing and editing this #the answer is obscene (several hours)

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ridher · 3 months ago

Text

jj maybank running into the sweet new girl when stopping by a local smoothie shop

it was only your second day on the job, the first one where you were on your own to serve those strolling the hot summer beach packed with both kooks, pogues, and the occasional touron.

you hadn't even had a chance to make any friends beyond the other young girls you worked with, but even that wasn't more than friendly conversation. you'd gotten a job straight after moving to the south side of kildare — your family needed the money.

it was getting a bit stressful as soon as it hit late afternoon. the crowd of people in line along with the heat beating down during its prime hours, plus being so inexperienced, was overwhelming and starting to get to your performance.

pushing through, you get to what seems like the last group of people for a bit. by now, pieces have fallen from the messy updo of your hair and a thin sheen of sweat coats your body — even through the lenient dress code that allows you to wear a dainty tank top and jean shorts.

still, you greet them with a sweet smile that's mostly directed at the boy in front with brown, curly hair, sporting a bandana around his neck. your lips part to recite the words you'd been trained to welcome customers by when a blonde boy pushes his way up from behind and flashes a crooked smirk.

"um, what can i get you guys today?" you hesitate and it comes out less confident than when said to all the customers before.

"yeah.. let me get a uh— y'know, what do you suggest?" the same boy responds, arms crossing while his brows pinch like he's thinking awfully hard.

based on the expressions of the group accompanying him — two other boys and one girl — this behavior from the sun-tanned boy isn't an uncommon occurrence.

"this week's special's been my favorite recently." something about the attention of his intense eye contact has you nervous, shifting in your stance and brushing loose strands of hair from your face.

"shit, aight, gimme four of 'em." his haze only briefly darts to the little stand showcasing said smoothie before he agrees.

"wh—" the other boy behind him is ignored when he attempts to speak up, the girl only rolling her eyes and directing her attention elsewhere.

nonetheless, you get started on four of the same drink, back turned to the group as you move about — mind full thinking about the smallest interaction between you and the boy.

soon enough, you arrange the smoothies across the counter and ring up the price on a company tablet. that's when you finally look back up at the boy with a small but genuine smile and relay the total.

hassling the previous leader for money, he places the cash on the surface between you two, tonguing at his cheek with an almost amused look when his lips turn up slightly.

the smoothies get distributed and their change is returned, yet that one boy lingers across the counter.

"jj. you're new, yeah?" he finally asks, sticking out the hand that's not holding a drink.

you nod, shaking his hand and checking behind him to make sure nobody is waiting on the exchange before pulling your hand away and telling him your name.

jj nods, not so subtly taking in your full appearance with a sip from the straw. his eyes finally land back on yours and his expression is ever so smug noticing the flush on your cheeks.

knocking on the counter with his knuckles, he shakes his head to himself and starts to walk off in the path his friends went.

"i'll see ya 'round." drawing out your name at the end of his departing statement and winking, jj finally leaves.

it's all you can recall the rest of your shift, especially when you catch his stares from various spots across the beach before being punched in the arm or smacked on the back of his head by what you see now to be his group of pogue friends.

you can't help but smile to yourself, knowing he's just as intrigued by you that you are him — even if it just makes the hands on the clock move faster daydreaming about a cute surfer boy.

#₊˚⊹ ࿔#jj maybank #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank x reader

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utterlyotterlyx · 6 months ago

Note

Can you do a Azriel request where Azriel exaggerating a bruise his mate got during training to be worse than it is and needing bed rest because he wants to cuddle/kiss but still hasn’t figured out how to ask for cuddles since they’ve been friends for centuries but newly accepted their mate bond?

Sparks

Summary - An injury during training with Cassian ends with Azriel fussing over you, but as always with Azriel, he has another motive.

Warnings - none really, mentions of injury, slight angst, welcome to fluff junction

If anyone would have told Azriel when he had first met you that you would end up as his mate, he would have laughed in their faces.

There were no two people as different as you and Azriel, he was a brooding thing and you were like fresh morning sunshine, opposite in every way imaginable. It also didn't help that he found your stubborn nature to be quite the nuisance.

Those feelings didn't linger long however, you had some strange ability to make those around you feel at ease, perhaps it was your charm or how your eyes sparkled whenever someone spoke to you about something important to them. It didn't take Azriel long at all to become one of the many people who sought comfort in your words, much to the delight of Rhys who always sternly told him to be nicer to you.

Azriel couldn't remember the precise moment he had met you for the first time, he was sure it had been Selene to introduce the two of you, and when she died Rhys had moved you into the River House and you had quite quickly become a pillar of the Inner Circle. Wise. Kind. Truthful.

A force to be reckoned with.

What Azriel could remember however was the moment the bond had snapped for him.

There was a special spot that you often went to when you wanted to be alone, a certain balcony that lay beyond the stained glass doors of Selene's room, a place you had used to sit with her during the night, where you'd either sit in silence and gaze at the stars, or talk about anything that you wished. Selene was your best friend, you had also lost a sister that day.

That evening, as the sun was about to draw the curtains to another performance, when the sky was painted in burnt orange and purple, did Azriel find you there. A gentle song was drifting from your lips from where you sat on a deep set chair, wrapped up in one of Selene's blankets and gazing so far away that Azriel had thought that you were peering into the past. Something about it held his attention, the way that your eyes had softened, how your hair drifted in the gentle breeze, how the sun made your eyes shine like rare diamonds and the way you held yourself for comfort.

It had snapped when he had mistakenly made a noise, being too entranced by you to be careful about where he was stepping, and you had turned your head to see who was in Selene's space with you. The sun was causing you to glow, it hugged the side of your face, and the way you had whispered his name made his entire world spin.

The bond hadn't snapped for you though, you had simply asked him what he was doing and if he wanted to join you. Which he did without hesitation. That night you had both talked through the hours, too entwined with one another to realise the sun peeking through the horizon to welcome another day.

Months had passed and you still had no idea about the bond, and unfortunately it had snapped for you at the worst possible time. When Azriel had been slung over Rhys' shoulder, badly injured, and you had rushed into the room to help Madja only to feel an onslaught of pain the moment the bond blossomed and connected your souls together.

A single look was all Azriel needed to know that it had snapped, the wide eyes of terror and worry and the drifting fingers over the skin where your heart lay.

I'm going to kick your ass for this when you can stand.

Tears had brimmed in your eyes the moment he had laughed at your quip, and then winced from the pain. You had fell to his side, running your fingers through his matted hair, telling him that you weren't going anywhere whilst Madja put him back together.

Azriel had woken in his bed to you curled into his side with your arm flung over his torso, and as soon as he moved an inch, you were awake and alert asking him if he needed anything to which he said he only needed you.

Ever since you'd been rather inseparable.

So when Azriel had felt that jolt of pain throbbing at his shoulder and the emotions to go along with it, he had taken off running to the House of Wind, leaving a rather bewildered Feyre alone in the bakery with bags of pastries that he was meant to bring back to you to halt your incessant begging for them.

Landing at the House of Wind, his shadows whispered to him where you were and he took off in that direction, following the trails of your scent before walking into the brick wall known as Rhys, "Where is she? What happened?"

Rhys lay a consoling hand on his shoulder, the same one that was throbbing and twisting with discomfort, "She's fine, Az," Rhys told him, his violet gaze burning into the Shadowsinger to make sure that he understood. Azriel loosened a breath and waited for Rhys to continue despite the itching need to find you, "She was training with Cassian, he was a bit rough with her and dislocated her shoulder. Madja is with her now."

As if on cue, a soft groan emitted from down the hall and Azriel moved around Rhys to follow it, peering into each room along the way until his eyes landed on you.

Sweat coated your brow, you had tugged your bottom lip between your teeth to stop your whimpering as Madja held your arm in her hands. A low growl rumbled in his chest, his sight moved to Cassian at your side who looked at him with wide eyes, "Az, I didn't mean to hurt her," Cassian knew how protective Azriel was of you, and since the bond had been newly requited, Cassian also knew how much Azriel was dying to tear him apart in that moment.

To Azriel, Cassian was not his friend in that moment, he was the one who had hurt his mate, his reason for living, and it was making him seethe.

"Az?" A weak voice called to him and Cassian stepped aside to display you fully to him, "It's my fault, I thought I could take a bit more force."

The shadows darted from his shoulders, soaring through the air to pepper your face with comfort and love, slithering through your hair and floating atop your injured shoulder.

Cassian scratched the back of his neck, "I did body slam you into the ground, y/n."

"You body slammed her into the ground?"

Closing your eyes and inhaling deeply, you then glanced to Cassian, face deadpan and stoic, "I'm trying to save your ass from a beating here, Cass."

"Right, I'll just go. You've got it from here, Az?"

A stupid question.

Azriel's burning gaze didn't move from Cassian as he slipped from the room, then all of his attention fell onto you. The Shadowsinger knelt at your side, brushing his thumb over your cheek where the skin had been stained from your tears, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," you strained, "It's just uncomfortable. You came at the perfect time, Madja was just about to pop it back in," you said with a nervous smile directed to the healer who was paying little notice to the two of you.

Unease and nerves flew down the bond and Azriel clasped your fingers around his, "Squeeze it as hard as you need to. I can take it."

"I thought I could too," you grinned and shuffled into an upright position, bracing yourself against his body and gulping down deep breaths, "I'm sorry if I scared you."

With the bond being so new with so much to be explored, Azriel wasn't sure of what you needed. Sure, he had taken care of you during your cycle, he knew that you were affectionate and loved to be held, but it was always you that crawled onto his lap and wrapped your arms around him whenever you needed some contact. Azriel was a touch-starved thing, and he didn't know how to ask for your affection because he was so used to not having any at all and was afraid that you'd deny him.

Now he had the perfect excuse.

Once Madja had twisted your shoulder back into place, an action that made you yelp and groan to the point Azriel had felt his blood boil when looking to the healer, she wrapped it up in a sling and advised that you be on bed rest until it had fully set and healed, which would only take a couple of days.

"Can I take her home?" Madja rolled her eyes playfully and uttered her approval, and Azriel wasted no time in scooping you into his arms, smirking at your glare, "Madja said to rest, so no walking for you."

"My legs don't hurt, Az."

"I don't care," you shouldn't have been complaining really, it was nice to be the one being held for a change, and it was nice that Azriel had made the move to touch you.

It wasn't like you never cuddled or spent days in bed with one another, you had spent many days in his bed with your limbs entwined with his lips searching every single inch of your skin. But when it came to simple acts of affection, Azriel was lost, and it was obvious that he didn't know how to show affection outside of the bedroom.

Landing at the River House, you pleaded with Azriel to put you down, assuring him that you could walk on your own, but he refused, and continued to refuse you as he carried you through the house and up the stairs which led to your shared bedroom.

It was Azriel's really, but he put up quite a fuss after the bond had snapped and you had little choice in the matter. Azriel did have the largest and comfiest bed, confirmed after you had tested every single bed in the house before coming to the conclusion, and all you did was bring your feminine flair to the space and your copious amount of clothes.

Azriel placed you on the edge of the bed, pressing his lips to yours and mumbling, "I'll be right back," he left your lips needing more and you watched him retreat to the bathroom, a squeak of the taps and rushing water sounded and you shuddered with happiness when Azriel reappeared, "Let's get you out of these clothes," clothes that were sweaty and dusted with dirt from the training grounds.

Working carefully, Azriel helped you out of your leathers, he gently lifted the shirt around your injured shoulder and aided you in stepping out of your pants, folding them neatly on the ottoman at the foot of the bed.

The water was the perfect temperature for you and your body disappeared under the bubbles as Azriel lowered you into the tub, stripping his own clothes from his body and stepping in to nestle into the spot behind you and sliding his arms around you, resting your head against his chest and rubbing circles into your skin.

Wincing, you angled yourself, and you weren't able to stop the laugh spurting from your lips when Azriel said, "I'm going to make Cassian cry tomorrow," you sat upright and peered over your shoulder at him.

Azriel didn't meet your eyes, instead he was focusing on his fingers playing with the ends of your dampened hair; his bare chest glistened in the light, his muscles contorted with tense anger, and his jaw ticked. He welcomed the new position you created, wrapping your legs around his torso and pressing your chest up against his; bubbles swarmed around you and you sighed with content when his fingers ran through your hair and down your spine, when his lips peppered along your collarbone.

"What if I need you with me tomorrow?" Azriel straightened, eagerly, and leaned into you, his hands falling on the small of your back, "To take care of me?"

Those hazel orbs brightened, "I'll do whatever you need me to do," a new bond or not, you knew that there was nothing that Azriel wouldn't do for you, "I'll glue myself to you if that will make you feel better."

Through giggles you spoke, "As lovely as that sounds, Az," you brushed a strand of hair from his eyes, "Being in your arms is where I want to be, more for you if anything."

Azriel frowned, "What do you mean?"

"You've been awfully touchy today."

Sitting up a little straighter, "You're hurt," you quirked a brow and he knew from the gentle smirk on your lips that you knew full well what he was doing, and he cracked under the pressure, "Maybe I just wanted an excuse to dote on you a little bit."

Bingo.

Leaning closer to him, being careful of your shoulder, you hovered just in front of his face, noses almost touching, "You don't need an excuse to dote on me, Az. I know it's difficult for you to show affection, but you'll get used to it. If you ever want to kiss me or hold my hand or cuddle me, just do it, you never need to-"

Azriel cut you off by pressing his lips to yours, it was something he had done countless times before, but it felt different, like he was finally embracing the bond enough to stop hiding his love for you. Fingers at the back of your neck, Azriel smirked against your lips, at the fact you hadn't released a breath yet, and then pulled away, "Like that?"

"Yeah, just like that," your voice was a hush above a whisper, "Do more of that."

Grinning, Azriel purred, "Yeah?"

"Mhm," you nodded eagerly, wondering how in the world your mate was so perfect and alluring.

If Selene could see you now, happily mated to Azriel the Shadowsinger, ready to embark on the wild ride of life... you were sure she would have been thrilled about it actually.

Noticing your mind wander, Azriel cupped your cheek, "Where have you gone?"

It's what he always asked when your mind drifted elsewhere, you had told him it was never just a thought, but an image, a memory, so he had stopped asking what you were thinking about but rather where you had gone to.

"To Selene," he pulled you closer to him, running his thumb across your lips, "Do you think she would have been happy about us?"

"Are you happy?" Connecting your eyes, you nodded, softly, "Then yes, she would have been very happy. It was all she ever wanted for you, an all-consuming love and a life of happiness."

The inevitable day of your mating ceremony was bound to happen in the coming months, and whilst you were excited for it and everything that it meant for you and Azriel, the thought of it saddened you, because the one person you had grown up with speaking of marriage and children at least once a week was no longer by your side.

"Do you know how much I love you?"

Azriel had always been good at pulling you from your thoughts, you focused on him, the love of your life, and replied, "I think so, but it wouldn't hurt to hear it again."

After throwing his head back to the edge of the tub with laughter, he settled, "I swear that I couldn't love you more than I do right now, but I know that I will tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. My love for you will never stop growing." Azriel held your face in his hands, stroking the hair from your face, "The sky has nothing on you, my love, you surround my world. You are my world."

Tendrils of shadow moved from his shoulders, peeping over them, flowing down his body into the water and spreading across your thighs. You rested your forehead against his, "You are my home, Az."

With a gentle kiss, Azriel lifted you from the tub, he wrapped a towel around your body and helped you into one of his shirts that engulfed you in the scent of him, and he waited, he waited for you to clamber into the bed and get comfortable before he found his place beside you. Like he would everyday for the rest of his life.

Authors Note

Bath time Az is just ughhhhhhhh

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starseungs · 3 months ago

Text

the subtle art of cliche confessions. ksm.

kim seungmin x gn!reader — as aware as you were that life wasn’t like the fictional stories of romance that you enjoyed, a part of you still relished the thought of experiencing it for yourself.

GENRE/S — fluff, humor kinda, maybe fluffy angst but not really, battle of the bands au, lead singer!seungmin, college au, kinda semi-established relationship • 2.5k words

WARNING/S — profanity for humor, some self-deprecation as a result of nervousness but its not that bad, romance is complicated! in the same universe as "i'd weave words with every chord you strum. hjs"

( ✒️ ) a gift for @starlostseungmin for successfully completing her big exam 🙇‍♀️🤍 congratulations lovie, you deserve a fluffy seungmin fic !! the ending may be trash im sorry its 1am and i have class in a few hrs

“Jisung, I think I’m about to pass out.”

The person mentioned comically froze on the spot, his right hand halting from its previous task of double-checking his electric guitar’s condition. Jisung lifted his head up menacingly to look at the offender—who currently looked like he was seconds away from losing all strength in his legs. Despite the concerning comment, life backstage did not stop for anyone. Crew members were still seen running around like headless chickens, desperately trying to keep the show running smoothly even though they, themselves, were already functioning on greater levels of adrenaline than the performers.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Jisung warns lowly. “Kim Seungmin, you are not about to leave us without a lead singer right now!”

Unfortunately, Seungmin was not kidding. At all.

The loud cheers of the crowd from beyond the stage were deafening. It tells him that the band currently performing before them is doing a great job of keeping the audience entertained. Normally, that would’ve set him on fire to do better; bits of his competitive nature steeling his resolve to outdo the competition. And yet, something seemed to be different in today’s specific battle.

He couldn’t care less about the crowd—no, his mind was only revolving around one thought. Or one person, to be specific.

This makes him blanch once again. “I genuinely feel like throwing up.”

Chan snickers from his position near the dividers set up to create a makeshift waiting room for the performers. “Are you that nervous?” He asked lightheartedly. “Don’t stress about it too much, Min. We all know Y/N is going to say yes.”

Seungmin wanted to believe him. He really did. If anyone were to be asked about his natural demeanor, he was one hundred percent positive that the word ‘rational’ would come up at least once. He knew that the chances of the drummer’s words were the most probable—after all, he did his best efforts to capture your heart over the past year. And yes, Seungmin did also know that you had romantic feelings for him. That was why he was in this situation in the first place.

“If I were them, I would!” Hyunjin chirps, happily tapping on his bass guitar. “Imagine getting asked out by the lead singer of a band in the middle of their set? Anyone would be over the moon.” Seungmin merely scoffs in response.

“Of course you would, Mr. Hopeless Romantic.”

The bassist chokes out an offended noise. “Says the one doing a public confession,” he huffs. “Glad to know you learned a thing or two from those romance movies I pitch in on movie nights.”

“Yeah, well this isn’t fiction.” Seungmin deflates on his seat. Any more, and his band would’ve witnessed a person merging with a plastic chair. Wouldn’t that be a great memory to live with? “This is so cliche. What if they think it’s cringy?”

Jeongin, the keyboardist, shoots him a look full of judgment. “Why are you only second guessing this now?”

“To be fair, you both are already cringy.” Jisung stands up from his seat to stretch, only to receive a glare from the band’s lead singer. He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just saying. It’s a miracle how long you two went on without an actual label. Everyone knows you two have been practically dating since months ago.”

And to that, Seungmin has no retort. What Jisung said had its truths—even he, himself, didn’t know why it took him so long to ask you to be officially his. It definitely wasn’t a commitment issue; he hasn’t even entertained anyone else intimately ever since he met you. There were even nights where he mentally beat himself up for being a coward about this whole thing, only for him to end the torment by convincing himself it was him going through the courting stage with you.

Not that he even asked, but that was what he was doing. Right?

It’s not his fault you always rendered him speechless. Not too much, of course. He wasn’t that starstruck that he’d make an absolute fool of himself. It was just that you made him really nervous and awfully conscious of himself. The way you talked was like music to his ears, and he swears he could listen to you all day. He finds himself wondering if his own voice ruins this fantasy of his.

You had to have noticed his advances as well. There was just no way that you didn't, with how smart you were. He just didn’t know whether to be grateful or frustrated with the fact that you never said a word about it. What if you were actually uncomfortable with the whole thing and were just too nice to tell him. Oh, he should’ve asked. This is terrible. A massive mistake on his part. An angel like you shouldn’t be forced to be with someone like him.

“What if I’m getting ahead of myself and they don’t actually like me like that?”

Jeongin’s jaw drops. “You have got to be kidding me.” He was going to tease Seungmin further, but something about the look on his friend’s face screamed anxiety, so Jeongin was quick to force his mouth closed. “Y/N does. Have you seen the way they act when they’re with you? Heart eyes, I swear.”

Okay, there’s that too. Seungmin wasn’t blind, nor was he dense. If he didn’t think you were interested in him like this, then he wouldn’t have actively pursued you time and time again. He was confident, not someone who didn’t know their boundaries. And fortunately, you seemed to have wordlessly affirmed that he could get close to you over the months you’ve been talking. He was sure that if you had even expressed the slightest bit of disapproval of his advances, he would have pulled away immediately. As well as reassess the situation right afterwards.

Seungmin sighs. “I just want to do this right.”

“And you will,” Chan says. The drummer gives him a firm pat on the back. “Trust in yourself. We’ll also have your back. Go out there and perform like you always do, just that you have your little plan before the bridge comes in.”

All Seungmin got from that was how you were in the crowd. Right, you were in that crowd. The very same crowd he didn’t give a single fuck about at this moment. You were the only audience he needed, and it both comforted and terrified him to remember that he left you to sit in the very front row earlier before the program started. Just where did all his courage go? The bastard who planned a public confession on their campus festival’s Battle of the Bands competition should be the one present to go through all this.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been this nervous to perform ever.”

Hyunjin hums. “Then that means you really like Y/N!”

“Exactly. We didn’t agree to make a whole new original song for this competition just for nothing,” Jisung adds. “Well, I guess it’s also good publicity for when we actually do this band thing for real. Show the public our sound, you know?”

Seungmin finally begins to breathe easily again. He briefly stares at Chan fiddling with his drumsticks, twirling them around with his fingers to soothe his own nerves about their upcoming performance. After all, this wasn’t just a performance that Seungmin was doing alone. The competition also meant a lot to his other members in their own different ways, yet they still gave their full support to him when he told them about his plan.

He had great friends.

“Stray Kids?” A slightly hoarse voice called out. Seungmin knew the figure as Changbin, someone from the student government. The guy was normally a lot more energetic than this, but he guesses the fatigue must be getting to him from being one of the organizers for this particular event. “You guys are up in a few seconds.”

Well, this is it. Seungmin stands up to get ready, clearing his throat to calm himself. There’s nowhere to run now.

The crowd’s enthusiastic roars never seemed to stop after the previous band’s set ended, and it was beginning to tick you off. Granted, you should have been happy that Seungmin’s band was going to be greeted by a happy crowd, but that also meant that they were subject to pleasing an audience whose hearts were clearly already captured by the performers right before them. And you would be nothing if you weren’t competitive. Biased or not, you would die on the hill believing that Seungmin’s band is better than the others.

They had a national treasure of a voice for their lead vocals, so how could they not be the best?

An amused snort came from your left side. You didn’t have to think too hard to figure out that it came from your friend, Felix. He was probably finding humor in the way your face didn’t spare a single effort to even plaster an indifferent expression. What can you say? You were loyal.

“Alright! I see that all of you enjoyed that wonderful performance from Xdinary Heroes!” The program’s host, Lee Minho, came back out to hype the crowd. It was then that your attention snapped back up to the big stage, your eyes watching like a hawk as Seungmin and his friends settled into the equipment. A bubbling giggle found its way out of your mouth at how Seungmin looked so focused on adjusting the height of his mic stand. “A very unique band name, if I do say so myself. But it does look like the new trend, as all of you here might also find interest in our next band’s name.”

“Seriously,” Felix starts, his tone teasing. “You are so down bad.”

You roll your eyes. “Be quiet. It’s starting.”

“Yeah, sure.” Felix laughs at your reaction. “We wouldn’t want to interrupt your longtime dream of being confessed to by a singer in the middle of a set now, would we?” Your face burned warmly at the accusation.

It was such a cliche thing to happen. As aware as you were that life wasn’t like the fictional stories of romance that you enjoyed, a part of you still relished the thought of experiencing it for yourself. There was a reason why these kinds of events were heavily romanticized in the media—they held their own charm. It just so happened that you agreed to the notion that getting a proclamation of love from a singer on stage was one of the more appealing choices.

Too bad those don’t go too well in real life.

“But it’s—”

“It’s cliche. Yes, you’ve already told me countless times that it’s not as good in real life. But we all have our fantasies, Y/N. No judgement.” Felix shrugs. “Good for you, though. You are one determined person to bag an actual singer. In a band, no less.”

“You are so—”

“—over. Give it up for Stray Kids!” Lee Minho’s booming voice cut you off again, letting you know that the performance was about to begin.

It started off like normal, with Chan using his drumsticks as a countdown before the instrumental started. Except this time, the song was surprisingly unfamiliar to you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. This wasn’t the piece they practiced when you came over to watch a week ago. You didn’t recognize the song in its entirety either, though it was already proving to be a song that fit right with your tastes. Seungmin’s voice echoing through the space was also adding so much to the experience.

You let the pride you felt at how well he was doing bloom in your chest. It was great to see him shine after going through the rough process of preparation with him. You watched him passionately go through the song smoothly without any mistakes. From the day you first met him until this moment, you’ve witnessed how determined he was to achieve his goals in life. It was then that you knew you’d always be proud of Seungmin, no matter what. You were already the happiest you’ve ever been just by being by his side.

“Did they change their set?” You asked no one in particular.

Felix bops his head to the beat, clearly pleased with the song. “Don’t know the song, but it’s great!”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t agree with him. Though the sudden change in song choice admittedly peaked your curiosity more than it should have. Your eyes found their way back on stage, as if telling you to simply enjoy the performance now and ask later. But it looks like fate had other plans for you, as your eyes immediately locked with a certain lead singer’s.

He left no argument as to who he was looking at. It was clearly you, and you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched at the way his gaze alone held the answer to the question that lingered in your head. There were sparks of electricity being mimicked throughout your body, sending you into a mild shock. Like a scene from a movie, everything else in the world just seemed to go on mute.

All except his voice.

“Before we proceed to the bridge, I’d like to share something about this song. Would that be alright?” Seungmin spoke to the crowd, despite his attention still obviously on you. You could vaguely hear them answering back to him in interest, positively telling him to go on. It was difficult to miss the way his smile grew at this. Seungmin looked so stunning when he smiled. You always felt like falling in love all over again whenever he did.

The band continued with the instrumental, albeit toning it down as their lead singer continued on. “So this song is actually an original from us.” Oh, that makes so much more sense. “And it was written as my confession to the person I like.”

Wait.

In the fuzz of your brain, you could barely make out Felix jumping up and down in excitement while looking at the scene unfolding before his eyes.

“I’ve been contemplating this for a while, wondering when I’d ever deem it the perfect moment for me to ask the important question,” Seungmin adds. “But I’ve realized that I was just dragging things out too much for my liking. So, to the one who my heart yearns for even through the nerves I’m feeling right now—” You felt overwhelmed at the moment, but you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off the way Seungmin looked at you with such fondness and admiration.

“—Y/N, will you give me the honor to be yours?”

And when your voice sings out the answer, the instrumental starts picking up again as Seungmin finishes the song with newfound fervor. You chuckle your happy tears away, with your friend playfully punching your arm.

“Now, what did I say?”

Maybe cliches weren’t so bad in real life after all.

MASTERTAG ━ STATUS: OPEN — ASK OR COMMENT 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @wnbnny @xocandyy @minluvly @moon0fthenight @estellaluna @hanjsquokka @starlostastronaut @minsueng @l3visbby

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onsomenewsht · 3 months ago

Text

De pelearnos y odiarnos y amarnos después

About when she was everything for you, but you were just one more fan

《 shout out to @p0orbaby for putting up with this shit, making it less shitty and being the only reason Alexia has feelings in the first place

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +3.7k

》 player [noun]: 1. a person who participates in or is skilled at some game or sport; 3. an actor: a theatrical performer, a person who plays parts on the stage; 5. a person who engages in casual and indiscriminate sexual relationships.

Barcelona is not that big of a city if you stop and think about it.

Especially when you end up in the same places with the same people, especially when your circle of family and friends is pretty tight. Especially when you work in a world as small as the women’s football one.

You and Alexia Putellas crossed paths a lot of times before coming up with the brilliant idea of braiding and twisting your lives together.

And it was fun.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

“I got your coffee”

“Oh, you’re still here”

The smile on your face doesn’t falter, even if her words will ricochet in your mind for a long time, so you keep sipping your coffee and mindlessly scrolling through your phone after booking your ride back home.

It’s quite early, you know she has training in an hour, but the late-night activities you indulged in must have tired the Catalan more than she expected as you woke up before her.

Usually, you don’t even find her in the apartment when you drift out of sleep, slowly collecting your things and leaving the empty place with a pair of keys to hide under a plant vase.

“I had time to go to the cafeteria around the corner, you slept through your first alarm”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”, it’s not really a question as she sprints up to the bathroom.

It’s known Alexia is quite strict with her routine and her absolute devotion to her passion and profession, you’re not really phased about her rush. Eating the pasties that came with your drinks is a good enough distraction as you leave the blonde to her morning rituals.

Your ride is going to be ten whole minutes later than expected anyway.

“Thank you”, she smiles at you.

When she joins you in the kitchen, already dressed in training attire, it’s clear she will not indulge and sit to have breakfast with you. Not deeming her of a look, you hand the footballer her coffee and favourite treat.

How Alexia manages to turn your day upside down in a matter of moments, just with casually cruel words or well-placed kisses, still goes beyond you.

Her lips on your neck are a proven method and a really effective distraction to keep herself on your good side, she’s out of the door as soon as she hears your moan and feels your shoulders relax under her hands.

The club is packed as you make your entrance, the sudden change of temperature causing a shiver to go down your exposed back.

Despite the number of bodies dancing around each other, you spot your friends pretty easily – the loudest group in the most secluded corner of the place. Laughs and screams are thundering above the reggaeton music as you get closer.

“Here she is, the princess herself, blessing us commoners with her presence!”

“Fuck you”, you hit your best friend Jordi with a forceful punch on his shoulder but a genuine smile lighting up your features.

“Not my fault we can barely remember your face nowadays”

“Yet I still have to look at your stupid one”

He doesn’t mind your hand on his face, annoyingly shoving him off as you take a free seat at the table and greet all your other friends. It’s been a while since the last time you went out with them.

The night gets intense quickly as you finish your third drink and hit the dance floor with Jordi. You two have been friends since even before you can remember, learning to walk together and bonding over shared happy memories and sad heartbreaks.

He was the first person you came out to, not regretting telling him even when he laughed in your face, claiming he knew as well as your high school Maths professor did – maybe your crush was not as good of a secret as you hoped for.

You were the first person he confessed his fear of turning into his own father, not regretting telling you even when you booked him an appointment with a therapist and assured him that people are allowed to not like their own parents, but still love them in some twisted way.

Jordi is a great friend, the one you’re most comfortable with. That’s how you find yourself with your arms around his shoulders and his hands on your waist as the music blasts in the club.

It’s a freeing sensation, to be able to let yourself go in the secure embrace of someone you love.

You knew it was a matter of time.

A strange feeling crumbles from the pit of your stomach as another pair of hands circles you from behind, but you don’t think too much about it. Your body is always reacting to Alexia.

She doesn’t even have to touch you, somehow feeling her eyes on you the moment she entered the club with a bunch of cheering friends.

“Can I steal you for a dance?”

You nod with a smile before turning around in Alexia’s arms.

Jordi shoots you a raised eyebrow and a silent question, not amused with the whole situation and not quite happy with the way you’re handling this relationship with the blonde girl. He’s too supportive to say anything right this moment, but you know he has opinions – strong ones.

“He doesn’t like me”, her hands on your waist but her eyes fixed on Jordi.

“You don’t even know him”

“I don’t need to, he looks at me like I kicked his dog”

The tension is quite annoying for you, so you don’t even dignify her with an answer, merely acknowledging her disappointment by tracing her frown with your fingers. The Catalan hands are firmer as she pushes your bodies closer, following the music and the beats of your hearts.

“Wanna come to my place?”

“I’m here with my friends”, you half-smile, you told her a couple days ago you were going out to celebrate a colleague’s promotion.

“I leave for camp tomorrow”

You know, you plan a lot of your commitments around her crazy schedule.

All Alexia needs to do to convince you to leave the club is move her surprisingly caring hands up and down your exposed back, whispering nice words in your ear.

She has you wrapped around her fingers, and she has no shame in turning it in her favour.

Football is a family business, flowing in your veins for generations with a grandfather who played for Barcelona and both your parents involved on some level in the sport.

You played for a bit, realising quite early you didn’t have what it takes to go professional, but you found your path toward the green pitch anyway. Making a name as a sports lawyer was quite eventful, now you watch a football game with one eye on the ball and the other on paperwork.

Finding time to just sit there, be present, and enjoy your favourite club play without thinking of the legal repercussions is not easy, yet you manage. It still comes with huge repercussions on your mental health, but that’s part of the fun.

When Alexia crushed your life, you thought it couldn’t really influence your already massive passion for the sport. You already watched Barça games, and you even already know some of the players.

Oh, how wrong you were.

The Blaugrana captain is like a magnet, always able to catch your eyes and lock them on her for the entire 90 minutes, filling your mind and somehow making you body reacts to her every movement. You don’t miss a game, you spot her immediately on the pitch or on the bench.

You smile just knowing she’s doing what she loves.

“They better win or I’ll personally go down there to kick their ass”

You laugh at Mapi outburst. Despite her attitude, you know it pains her to be in the stands to support her friends on the international stage, hidden behind a cap. Telling her how much you admire her stance on such an important cause, no matter the consequences on her own life, is not enough. You’re committed to changing the game for her too.

“Three goals are a lot to overcome”, Ingrid points out with a teasing smile.

“What side are you on?”

“Yours, always”

Seeing the Norwegian kiss her girlfriend’s hand puts a smile on your face, making it easier to bite down the bittersweet taste of jealousy for the amazing relationship they have.

Like if something shakes you, you drift your eyes on the pitch right on time. Alexia is going for a run as Aitana sends her a beautiful pass on her left. You’re on your feet even before the ball finds the back of the net and the crowd erupts in cheers.

Then Jenni is on her side and Alexia lets the tall woman hug her, smiling.

The celebration is cut short, there isn’t time to lose, but you can see something sparkling in the footballer’s eyes as she indulges in it a little, spurring the supporters to be louder when she retrieves the ball to restart the game as soon as possible.

Her teammates pat her back as they get back in position, getting just nods and prompts to keep the momentum going.

Is strange, the uneasy feeling that spreads inside your stomach. Your hands are closed in fists but your legs are trembling, as if your body can’t tell you’re on quite cramped seats.

Spain doesn’t manage to overcome the three goals, despite the team’s best efforts. You know the captain will be in a sour mood for who knows how long, and she’s not going to come to you for comfort – not the one you’re willing to give her anyway.

You don’t mean to overhear the conversation, you don’t even mean to be there in the first place.

A national team representative pulls you aside after noticing you on the stands and asks to talk to you – or better, trying to talk you out of a legal wrangle between the federation and one player you represent.

It’s a useless attempt, but you’re not ashamed to admit you enjoy quite a lot letting those men think they can overpower you.

You were just there, right behind the doors.

He guides you just outside the stadium, talking over himself. The first argument is reasonable enough, you can admit, but you lose interest pretty easily.

As soon as the players start to exit the facility, post-game rituals cut short after the defeat, you immediately take it like the best way out of the conversation.

“Cheer up, Ale, let her kiss it better!”, Jenni mocks the blonde with a tattooed arm around her shoulder.

“Shut up!”

“Don’t tell me there’s trouble in paradise already”

“No paradise, no troubles”, Alexia mumbles back, stopping by the door.

They’re probably waiting for someone, unaware of your frozen form just around the corner. A couple of steps, and they would see you. A couple of steps, and this torture would end. Yet you can’t move and they’re still arguing.

“She’s around a lot more, she sleeps at your place–”

“That happens when you have a fuck buddy, I can’t control what she does”

You never hear her talking about you with such spite, such annoyance in her voice. Alexia is not the best one when it comes to expressing her feelings, but you think she’d talk about your relationship with some emotion. Any kind of emotion, but this.

“Oh, come on! You’re cute together–”

“Jenni, drop it”, the Catalan’s tone is harsh and final, “We’re nothing at all”

You’d hope some respect is granted with the intimacy of it all.

Well aware your relationship is not defined by any terms, the casually cruel honesty in her words makes your head spin regardless.

You know the nature of the bond between the two of you is built on sex, physical attraction, and convenience for more than one reason.

When a couple of players finally exit the facility, Alexia is in the back of the group with a deep frown on her face. Your eyes meet immediately and you can easily tell she wishes you could disappear as much as you do.

“Are you fucking joking?”

“I said I’m sorry!”, the blonde scoffs as she reaches for her abandoned shirt in a corner of your bedroom.

Hiding the marks on your neck and on her thighs will be more difficult.

“That’s it, you say you’re sorry and that’s it for you”, you fear she doesn’t even know what she’s sorry for.

“I genuinely don’t understand, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to fucking care!”, you rise from your bed, marching toward her before she has the time to leave the room – not minding the height she has on you, “I want you to at least acknowledge your mistake, to really apologise for disrespecting–”

“My mistake?”

When she snorts right on your face, you lose it, shaking your head in disbelief. It’s pretty easy to believe though, it’s not the first time Alexia does or says something that genuinely hurts you and doesn’t even realise what the problem is.

This one time her dismissive behaviour and stubbornness are a bit too much.

The athlete tries to get your attention back, seeing you dressing up and pretending she’s not even in the room anymore.

It takes everything on you to ignore her hands and pleading words.

“You’re overreacting”

“You really should go, Alexia”

“Can we talk about it?”

“About what? You don’t think you have anything to apologise for, you have no idea how much you keep hurting me. Fuck, you were ready to leave a moment ago!”

Opening the front door for her, you feel her eyes studying your body as to read your mind and her action burning inside you in a way you can just hope will not scar you permanently.

Alexia has so much power over you.

You want to hold it all against her, keeping close to the last amount of respect you have for yourself. You want to scream in her face how disregarding she is, how much she keeps shaming your relationship. You want to lay out for her all the actions and all the feelings she has shown you so far, both full of love and full of shit.

“I’ll call tomorrow”

“Please, don’t”, you plead as you invite her to leave one more time.

“Then happy birthday”

Her lips on your forehead burn like a mark.

“This is bullshit!”, Alexia mumbles as she drops the papers with the speech you helped her write and rehearse for the past hour.

She has an interview on a famous British sports TV show in a couple of days, they give her a whole segment to talk about the development of women’s football in Europe, about her foundation, and her plans for the future. Then they informed her she should do it in English.

“I think is impressive you can hold your own in your third language, but you can’t pronounce this phrase to save your life”

“I think you’re making fun of me”

“I am, indeed”, you admit with a genuine smile on your face, reaching for her speech to find a way around the words for her.

The footballer watches as you revise the script one more time, her frustration softened looking at your pen dancing around the papers and your tongue trapped between your lips – a sign of your focus, she learned.

“I will cook dinner while you’re on it”, she states, rising from the spot on the sofa before you can meet her eyes.

It happens sometimes, Alexia could prove to you her effort, even her care, with nice little gestures out of nowhere.

A full breakfast could appear on your kitchen table as you wake up late after a long and rough night with the blonde, who left the apartment with the first rays of sunshine.

A ticket for a concert could light up your phone with a few days’ notice, making you cancel any plan and jumping in anticipation for what looks a lot like an actual date.

A bunch of flowers could be delivered at your place without an apparent reason, following weeks of radio silence, but you learned to read her inability to express gratitude with words when you hold her body and soul firmly after a particularly tough training session or media day.

There could be random gestures and small details, making you feel a fleeting sense of stability and a bittersweet taste of how it could be to be loved by Alexia.

“I think she could actually love you, if she tries”, Jordi states out of nowhere, half-empty drink in his hand and eyes fixed on your friends having their first dance.

“Excuse me?”

“The fucking queen of football”

“Yeah, I figured. Where’s that even coming from?”

Trembling hands find invisible creases to smooth on your dress, not a good enough distraction from everything around you. Your friends really went on and beyond with the wedding reception, soft music surrounding them as basically all the guests form a circle around couple.

“Just saying”

“You don’t even like her”, you bite back.

“I don’t like how she makes you feel”

“She makes me feel good too”

Letting her hurt you in the process, waiting for a change of heart that may never happen, makes you hate yourself a little bit. Never Alexia, just yourself.

The pity you let wash over yourself is enough to turn your cheeks red with embarrassment and something else you’re not quite ready to admit.

You know she’d love you, the signs are all there.

You know she knows too.

“You should put yourself first”, he finds your hand, holding it firmly.

The music changes subtly as your friends start to join the couple at the centre of the dance floor with their partner.

“You should go dance with Angelica, she can put up with you only so much”

You start to question if your love alone can bridge the gap between your lives.

Alexia welcomes you into her apartment more often, having dinner or sharing silent coffees in the morning instead of just letting you stay long enough to satisfy your needs.

And then fall off the face of the earth, ignoring your futile attempts to reach out.

Alexia invites you to nights out with her friends. Her hand holds possessively any part of your body within reach, sending cold stares to anyone who could move too close around you or no less touch you in a shy effort to get your attention.

And then pretends you’re not even there in the first place when someone calls her out on her behaviour.

Alexia saves her jersey for you after an important win, putting the piece of clothing on you herself in the family and friends section. She ignores her sister’s tease to turn the conversation around, talking about details of the game and weekend plans.

And then asks you to come up with some excuse to not attend the same plans she made right in front of you, the same plans you’re invited to by the people she loves most.

Alexia gives you something that looks a lot like love and then takes it all back, ripping away your affection and care without looking back at your deeming light.

“We need to talk”, she greets you into her apartment with unusual gravity and her lips curved at a strange angle.

“Hello to you too”

Fighting fire with fire is one thing you had to learn as your relationship with the Catalan grew, both in your heart and in your life – intertwining and rubbing off every single moment of your day and night.

Alexia takes the cold shoulder with almost a guilty nod, knowing inside she’s the reason for your harsh words and uneasy attitude around everyone lately. You show her colours she didn’t even know existed, and she manages to take them away from you.

“We should stop this”

You turn her voice off as soon as you register her decision.

The footballer tells you that this relationship, this agreement, isn’t working anymore. That you’re hurting each other. That she’s hurting you. She admits she needs to focus on herself, on giving everything she still has in her career.

She says you deserve better, you deserve someone who gives you as much attention and care as you give to them.

Not a sentence, not a single word, or apology matters.

A wave of shame washes over you as soon as you realise she has to be the one to end it all, granting you more respect than you had for yourself.

You stop her speech midway with a raised hand, you accept her decision with a knowing grimace, and you leave her apartment without looking back – allowing her to make any trace of tears disappear from her face.

In the weeks that followed, it became clear how deeply your lives intertwined over the time you spent together.

You have to buy a new set of your favourite body wash, your last one still in Alexia’s bathroom. The book you’re reading is still unfinished, letting you questioning if the sister was actually the murderer, as you remember you left it face down somewhere in her apartment. You accept the promotion they offered you months ago, booking a one-way ticket for a city that’s definitely not Barcelona but looks a lot like a new beginning.

You park up memories and try to let go of the hurt, both for yourself and for the end of something you know it’d be beautiful.

It was beautiful, but it was ugly and painful too.

When you find yourself in the stands of a filled stadium, surrounded by high-profile men in suits and the most influential people in football, you can’t hold back your genuine smile as soon as Alexia scores a last-minute goal, securing her team the victory.

You’ll always be Alexia’s supporter, even if that’s the only rule you’ll ever play in her life.

fine.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso fanfics #woso community #ap11 #woso #woso imagine #here we go again #i hate this for so many reasons #if you find the mistakes and the typos and the shitty english #just ignore them #my wo(rd)so

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grimoiresheart · 10 months ago

Text

nothing will ever put into words how beautiful, rich and complex the history of butches and femmes is. the way these identities encapsulate the nuance of dyke gender, affection and the inherent longing to be seen - truly seen for who we are, in a world that often times, seems to have forgotten us.

thinking of those who came before us, how the ofos butches would curl a cigarette in their hands, and watch a femme from across the bar with long nails tap her glass, in anticipation of that one moment that tells them both it was all worth it. the gentle smearing of lipstick, the confidence from straightening out a tie. we have always performed for one another, and known each other far beyond the capability or understanding of anyone outside of our community.

i long to see the theatrics, the drawn out gazes filled with the possibilty of something more. the love letters adorned with perfume and spring violets, a gentle hand finding its way underneath the hem of a worn out vest. i long to love and be loved in the only way that we have ever known, with unbridled fervor spilling out at the edges, with the intimacy found beside candlelight and intertwined between satin sheets. the promise that we will always find each other.

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smutoperator · 11 months ago

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Cam you make jihyo and eunbi x m reader.eunbi and jihyo is reader horny mommy,jihyo want reader to make her pregnant and eunbi want it too because she was jealous.

The Breeding Clinic

Park Jihyo, Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader

Tags: breeding, creampie, titfucking, nurses, rough sex.

Word count: 5961.

Day 1

The last few hours hadn't been the best for Dr. Park Jihyo. Attracted by the alternative of a stable job beyond her already long idol career, she had decided to get a job at a medical clinic in the days she wasn't performing in Twice. However, the first few days of the job had been exhausting for her, leaving Jihyo in a state of despair. As the last patient entered the room, he found Jihyo with her head down, having enough of such a job.

"Hi, I'm here to see a doctor." You entered Jihyo's room. She wasn't much in the mood for another patient this late in the day, having even forgotten she still had someone waiting for an appointment. In spite of that, Jihyo kept it professional, putting her head up as you talked to her, asking for your name to see if that was indeed the case, and then confirming you were indeed scheduled for an appointment. "Sit down there; I'll be back soon with the procedures." Jihyo stared at you, dirty thoughts already in her mind as she looked for. Her previous patients were all insufferable dudes with little man syndrome, but you look different. She kept looking at your sexy stature and plotting what she was about to do.

Jihyo put her uniform in a position where you could clearly see her massive tits popping out before exiting her room. You took the magazines she had put in the waiting room to market her "TT Clinic", almost wondering if this wasn't a scam. The magazine had nothing regarding medical procedures, and it was filled with sexy pictures of two idols: Jihyo and Kwon Eunbi, who was apparently the other doctor in the clinic. You keep looking at the magazines and seeing the same thing before the sound of high heels coming out of Jihyo's room interrupts you.

"Come to my room." She says. You look shocked as Jihyo is wearing those sexy nurse costumes you'd usually see at a party but not at a clinic. A perfect cleavage to showcase her boobs, a red thong, and a pair of gathers connect her nurse outfit to her pantyhose. You obliged, sitting in her medical chair as Jihyo picked up her instruments, ready to examine you. "So, what issues do we have here?".

"I injured my hand; I don't even know how to tell because you'd feel so embarrassed knowing the reason", you tell her. "It's fine; you don't need to tell me; just disclose the injury. Now we're going to follow some standard procedures. Can you please take your shirt off?", Jihyo asked. "Alright", you say as you take it off. Jihyo doesn't even look at your hands, checking instead your heart rate, her breasts bumping against your chest, making you feel a little embarrassed, leading you to ask, "What kind of exam is this?"

"Just relax, baby; trust your doctor", Jihyo replies as she puts her hands under your pants, also taking them off while placing her boobs against your face. Things start taking a wild turn as she wraps her blood pressure monitor around your cock. "Looks too flaccid; let me do something to make it go up", she says, licking the tip of your wrapped cock, as you're only able to groan as her tongue keeps making some naughty circular moves around your tip.

"Ahhhhh", you let out your first loud moan as Jihyo wrapped her mouth around the tip of your shaft, making her smile as you screamed. She pumps the monitor, clenching it around your cock as she keeps sucking it. It turns out she knows how to pump someone's blood pressure up as you start to get hard and your penis veiny at each pump and licking Jihyo gives you. "How about that treatment, baby?", Jihyo asks with a big smile on her face, putting the monitor down as she just turned your cock from a flaccid instrument into a throbbing monster. "Hard as rock, would you mind if I sat down on it?", Jihyo asks.

"Sit down? I-I-I", you stutter as Jihyo starts taking her red panties off, her high heels shaking the floor as she walks in your direction, climbing on top of your body as she lines up your big cock against her tight wet entrance. For a second, you forget your injured hand and try to line it up yourself, but she quickly takes control, grabbing your pole with her left hand and sticking it inside her pussy, moaning for the first time on that exasperating day. She wastes no time, taking your full length in one go. "Ohhhh shit" you exclaim as her tight pussy wraps around your cock.

"Much tighter than that pumper, right, baby?" Jihyo brags as she starts bouncing up and down your cock, taking a pair of inclined bounces before riding you straight down. The little air coming out of her super tight vagina makes it queef, as you hold yourself not to cum after not even a minute inside her. You gave her left cheeks a spank, but Jihyo remains unfazed. "Spank me, baby", she says, as it only makes her bounce faster and go all the way up before slamming straight down your cock. Jihyo sets both feet in the chair as she moves faster every time she slams her cheeks down your hips.

You grab Jihyo's ass, but truly, she's the only one setting the pace; her sexy moans make you go even crazier. Jihyo uses your cock like a training toy, her cheeks clapping against your hips as she tests multiple bouncing motions against your dick. She puts her right leg on the floor with her left leg still holding by the edge of the chair, making your cock hit different spots in her womb. "So how do you like mommy Jihyo's treatment, baby?" she asks. "Oh, yes, it's so good", you reply as you pant at every bounce. "Faster, please" you say as you spank her ass again, and Jihyo grants your wish, riding you in a way that feels like your cock is about to snap in half. "Hold on, baby", you can't resist, and you start thursting upwards into her pussy, making Jihyo release her loudest moans yet. "Oh baby yes baby" she says in a cute voice before taking back control and slamming back down. Her tits bounce very close to your face, but Jihyo makes sure to keep them out of your range.

She then pulls out after a long ride and gives your prick a deep sucking. You can't resist her warm mouth, thrusting hard upwards and fucking it the way you wanted to plow her pussy. Jihyo then gives you a long deepthroat before she gags on your massive cock. You grab her by the hair and make her go down on you again all the way into your balls. But Jihyo is a tough fighter and starts stroking and sucking you like nothing happened. As she licks your balls, you give her tits a little pinch, making her bite your testicles in reaction. "Give me that dirty face", you answer back as you give her an even harder facefuck than the first one.

After this oral session, you get up the chair, holding Jihyo's hands and putting her on her knees against the chair, your hands going straight into her wet cunt. Then you give a pair of spankings to her ass. "Bad doctor, this is what you deserve", you tell her. Your tongue then circles around Jihyo's anus, making her squirt for the first time as you lick her butthole clean. Next, you stick a pair of fingers back in her pussy and start fucking her with them. "You like them better than my cock, don't you?", to which Jihyo only answers with louder moans. "Fuck that pussy and eat that ass", she demands, to which you answer with even more aggressive fingering and tonguing.

You can't resist your urge anymore, sliding your cock back inside her warm hole with her wet folds, inviting you into that chair. You put your fingers in her mouth to shut her up as she tastes her nectar straight from her pussy. The loose buttons of Jihyo's nurse outfit couldn't hold anymore, freeing her tits to bounce as you pounded her relentlessly. You firmly groped her melons as you keep pumping in and out of Jihyo. "Fuck that pussy hard" she says as her voice starts to crack. You started choking her as well, leading to her clenching her tight fuckhole even harder around your cock. "AHHHHHHHH. AHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHH" it was all she could scream as you kept stabbing her insides.

"Give it to me, please", the dominant Jihyo had given away to a begging one as you kept increasing the pace. "Turn around", you said as Jihyo could only give muffled noises out of her mouth, going back to suck your cock without even needing to use her hands, before caving in for another round of you pounding her messy face as tears flew out of her eyes. "Put those tits up for me to see", you demanded as Jihyo grabbed her saggy milkers as you kept destroying her throat, eventually making her gag again as you stuck your sword fully inside, with even your balls being engulfed by her needy mouth. You kept slapping your cock on Jihyo's face while her mouth heated up your testicles.

More sloppy blowjobs, deepthroats, and facefucks followed, but you had your eyes on a bigger prize. Noticing how they freely bounced as you fucked Jihyo's face, you turned your eyes to her huge honkers. "Ahhh yeah, put those tits out" you said as you finished throating her, sliding your cock between her soft milkers. Jihyo spits on the top of her tits to let you slide easier into her fun bags, moaning as you split her boobs in half with your cock. Jihyo's iconic tits are your playground now, as she moans like a whore and licks the tip of your penis every time it's within her range. Her hands on top of your shaft, her melons squeezing and gripping it, her mouth sucking it. Everything is an invitation for you to cum.

But Jihyo isn't done. "Give me that cock again", she asks, as you sit on the chair for another ride, this time in reverse. Jihyo's pink, unshaved pussy now engulfs your cock fully. Her tits bounce like pinballs, but you can't see them, leading her to tease you. She rocks her hips, grinding and circling around your shaft, all that while moaning in a manner that sounds like baby noises. You hold her waist as she fingers her pussy, the chair making loud noises as she presses your body against it harder at every bounce. You grab her tits as she stops the bounce to drink her juices straight out of your cock.

Jihyo grunts as you dunk her face against your shaft, then sucks it compulsively, getting it ready for fun. Her hands stroke it with no mercy, and her mouth throats it deep into your balls. Quickly, she's back on top, where she belongs, as you direct your cock using your injured hand straight inside her warm vagina. Jihyo spreads her legs wide open, allowing you to pump deep into her cervix. She moans as she's about to be sent to the heavens. Her pussycat squirts as your balls hit her clit. "OHHHHH FUCKK YESSS, KEEP GOING!" she yells. "OH MY GOD, DON'T STOP", she grunts as you pump her like a piston and grab both her big tits. "Ah ah ah ah ah oh shit", she says as she bites her teeth. "I love the way you fuck me", she says.

But even at the roughest moments, Jihyo never loses her composure, jumping out of your cock like nothing happened, sitting on the chair and spreading her delicious pussy out for you to eat it out, enjoying as your mouth licked her folds. "Oh yeah, baby, lick that clit" she mandated as you kept sucking her insiders while she grabbed her own tits. She puts her right foot in your neck and her right rand in your head, guiding you towards paradise, but you decided to surprise her, sticking two fingers inside. "Oh yes, fuck that pussy", she moaned. You grope her right boob and leave its nipples close for her to lick them as her pussy gets wetter. Jihyo starts shaking with both your mouth and fingers, now stimulating her pussy, her head drops down, and she gets ready to orgasm, coating your mouth with juices just as you grab her tits again.

You put Jihyo upside down in the chair, cock in her mouth, hand in her tits. As you keep mating against Jihyo's filthy mouth, you move upwards and start fingering her clit. "Don't speak, bitch", you tell her as you keep stimulating her. "Stick that tongue out", you also say as she licks your shaft inside her mouth, only letting it out for her to lick your balls. "Play with that pussy", you say as you go back to honking her tits, your cock still in her face. "Wanna do that to my pussy?", Jihyo asks just as you pull out. You grab her by the waist and put her back in the chair on her knees, letting her tits freely bounce.

The pounding continues for a few minutes until she switches positions. Jihyo lies her back against the chair and spreads her pussy wide open for one final round. "I want you to get me pregnant and make those tiddies grow", she tells you. You start pounding her in missionary, your hands grabbing her just under her boobs before you move up, using her knockers as a grip as you pump in and out of her pussy. "Fuck it, yes, harder", she says as you then grab her neck with your right hand and place your left hand on her soon-to-be pregnant belly. You then start going full speed, your hands all over Jihyo's right side, grabbing both her right leg and tit, before your left hand moves into her left tit and gropes it as you get closer to cumming. Her pussy clenches waiting for that warm load. Jihyo pants loudly, making you take your left hand out of her tits and straight into her mouth. You don't want to hear what her slutty mouth has to say, hyper-focused on destroying her tight pussy.

You eventually decide it's futile, just letting that bitch scream. You put her on a mating press, both hands on her big tits. "Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah oh fuck yes" seems like all Jihyo can say now before she suddenly says, "I want you to fuck that pussy hard until you cum". You grip her boobs even harder, knowing you can't last for much longer. "Please, baby, cum in my pussy", she says with an angelic voice, your hands all over her chest and neck. "Fucking give me that cum. Fill that pussy up; give it to me", Jihyo keeps demanding. You manhandle her like a toy, which eventually leads to you giving in. "Ahhh ahhh ahhh" you groan as your semen flows inside her tight fuckhole.

"Oh fuck, oh shit", you scream as you quickly fill Jihyo up with such a strong load that when you pull out, you still ejaculate sperm into her creamy thighs, and cum quickly starts flowing out of her vagina. "Are you better now, baby?", Jihyo provokes. "A lot better, but my hand still hurts", you reply, ending the appointment.

Day 2

The night after wasn't the best. Jihyo had drained your energies so much that you could barely get yourself hard. Your hand still hurts, but since your medical appointment became a fucking appointment, nothing has changed. So, just like the night before you tried what led to your injury in the first place, jerk off to your endless supply of fancams. However, this time, things weren't working. After the real thing, it was difficult to get hard again. Well, except for one girl frenetically bouncing her tits at some water festival and getting herself wet.

Things got worse the following day; you woke up extremely sore, needing a long bath just to get things rolling. But things took a massive turn when you received an email: it was the bill from yesterday's appointment. The unaffordable cost made your head spin. You felt scammed, ready to go back to the clinic and have a talk with Jihyo. As you arrived, there was no Jihyo to greet you, but another short girl with big tits and a ridiculous nurse outfit. "Hi", she said. You felt almost offended. "What do you mean by hi? What is this?", You showed the medical bill to the girl.

It turns out Dr. Kwon Eunbi's plan worked just as she intended it to. Finding out what you did to Jihyo yesterday made her very jealous and horny. But she needed to find a way to bring you back. Eunbi wasted no time, sending you the medical bill as soon as she set foot in the clinic. You, of course, didn't know anything about this at all. But her goal was met with ease; she knew how mad people can go over money. "So what do you want?", Eunbi asked.

"Jihyo, where is she?", you asked. "Not her shift today; you'll have to wait until tomorrow", Eunbi replied. "What if I don't want to wait until tomorrow?", you said back. "There is no way; she's at another job today and won't come", Eunbi lied. As a matter of fact, she could call Jihyo from her apartment at any moment, but she wasn't going to share with her what she could have for herself. Meanwhile, your blood was boiling. "Fuck!" you screamed. "No way you can call that bitch until tomorrow? What kind of scam do you two run here?", you screamed really mad, but also keeping a look at Eunbi's big tits.

"Stay for today, and you'll find out", Eunbi laughed. Her outfit was even skimpier than Jihyo's, showing off her belly and with just a nurse top covering her tits. Her red panties were just like her big-tit co-worker's. Eunbi got back to her room but left the door open, remaining in your sight. As she turned back to close the curtains, you could see her bare back, her ass in undies, and even a sideboob. Eunbi then turned around and grabbed her tits, teasing you from afar.

"What the hell is this?", you asked, coming towards her room. "You two are not real doctors, just a bunch of scammers", you said. "And who are you to tell us that? I know you liked being scammed by that other big boob bitch that works here, didn't you? She told me everything", Eunbi stood her ground. You grab Eunbi by her arm, growing madder at her. "I'm gonna dennounce you both. Running a brothel disguised as a medical clinic, you two are disgusting", you said. "Surely you didn't find it disgusting when you were fucking the shit out of her baby boy", Eunbi punched back.

"Alright then. Let's find out". You picked your credit card out of your wallet and paid the so-called unafforable medical bill Eunbi had sent you. "So after this money I paid you, be honest: is this a medical clinic or a brothel?", you asked. "It's whatever you want to be, baby boy", Eunbi replied. "Now you're mine too, bitch", you told Eunbi. "Yes, I am", she confirmed, jumping on you as both of you started kissing each other.

Eunbi headed to a different room. She knew that one had been used by Jihyo yesterday, and it still smelled like sex. But she didn't want to fuck while sensing her co-worker's smell. She couldn't stop kissing you; it was really her thing. And you couldn't stop looking at her tits, ready to burst out of that top; it was really your thing. Just like Jihyo, Eunbi was quite strong, as despite her light frame, she managed to pin you against the window. She quickly started working around your pelvic area, putting her hands on your still clothed but already hard cock. "Let's see if you can fuck me better than that bitch", she said.

You answered her moves back, grabbing Eunbi's ass and giving soft kisses on her neck. It wasn't long before you started sucking her right tit, wondering how her milky melons tasted. Yesterday you were too afraid to do that to Jihyo, but today you went after Eunbi's massive milkers from the start. She kept her hands on your cock, exclaiming "Oh you're so hard" as you kept grabbing her boobs. Eunbi couldn't resist for long, dropping to the floor and licking it with your pants still on. She quickly tossed them out, grabbing them with her left hand while wearing her nurse gloves, stroking them, and sucking them right from the get-go.

"Oh my God", it was your first reaction as she finished her first sucking, staring at your massive shaft with lustful eyes. "It's so much better than the old and twinky cocks I usually suck here", she tells you before giving you the first deepthroat of the day and a few more hard and fast strokes, her tits already fully out. Eunbi then added some spit to her intense stroking as she kept diving her mouth in and out of your prick. If Jihyo moans were on the cutesy side, Eunbi's were more like the ones of a veteran pornstar.

It wasn't for long before you unleashed the rage she had made you feel. The first victim was, of course, her mouth. As Eunbi was giving you a deepthroating, you grabbed her by the hair and started fucking her face. Her sexy moans after you pulled out turned you on even further. Eunbi put her tongue out, licking the tip of your penis as you swung it close to her slutty face. Of course you took full advantage, letting her lick your whole cock from balls to tip while also slapping it against her face.

"Use me", she demanded. Hearing those words only increased your desire to fuck the shit out of that bitch as you humped your cock against her face. Yesterday you were too nice to Jihyo, but today you'd be the one taking control and turning Eunbi into your sex object. You inserted your cock back in Eunbi's throat, making her gag. She moaned every time you pulled it out, which drove you insane. You pushed Eunbi close to the bed and slammed your hips against her chin, jerking yourself off as she licked your balls like a maniac. "God you're so fucking slutty!" you exclaimed, grabbing her neck and spitting in her mouth.

You got on her knees and went straight up into fucking her tits, "aaaahhhh. aahhhh, ahhhhhh" out of breath moans coming out of her mouth. You push her tits against each other, holding your shaft with just your thumb as you kiss her. "Yes, baby, slide that cock under those fucking tits", she said, bobbing her head to take your penis head in her mouth. "Spit on it, spit on it, whore", you demanded, fucking her even harder and even using the straps of her fallen bra as a support. Eunbi put her tongue out as your cock kept meeting her needy mouth, sucking it deep as soon as you paused a bit.

"Oh God damn it," you reacted, pushing Eunbi's head against your crotch, making her engulf your sword balls deep again. Out of breath, she lied only the top of her back in the bed as you tried ripping her nurse outfit. It turns out it was easier just pulling her panties to the side and sliding inside her tight mommy pussy. "Aaaaah aaaaahh aaaaah", Eunbi moaned as your cock went between her legs. She attempted to start riding, but you were having none of it, putting her back against the bed and thrusting your hips against her hot body, making her tits bounce from the start.

You firmly groped Eunbi's tits, her moans getting louder at each thrust. You spanked her tits before grabbing her by the waist and sticking your thumb on her belly button. "OH, YOU'RE SO FUCKING DEEP INSIDE ME, DAMN IT", she screamed. Her pussy was on fire as each thurst you gave her made Eunbi twist harder and harder. Eunbi was almost falling on her knees; she wasn't expecting such a rough treatment and quickly started losing the strength she had once shown. You grabbed her by the neck, choking her like she was just a sex doll.

It wasn't long until you carried Eunbi, taking advantage of her weakness, your cock still inside her hole. She screamed as you lifted her off the ground and started carryfucking her, Eunbi's tits bouncing right at your face for you to suck. She felt truly scared; even though she had been fucked in that position multiple times, you had put her completely at your mercy. "Oh my God", she screamed as she spanked her own ass. "Yes, bitch, spank yourself like the useless whore you are", you told her. "Fuck!" Eunbi yelled as she spanked her ass again, leading to your cock briefly pulling out of her hole.

"Put that cock back in, put that shit in", you ordered, punishing her almost immediately. Just as Eunbi tried to make up for her little slip by trying to bounce on your cock, you pulled out of her and slammed her body back first against the bed, while also yanking your pants off. "Oh, baby, please give it to me", Eunbi begged, bobbing her head against your cock while upside down. You kept testing her limits, fingering her pussy while she throated your cock using none of her hands, until finally hitting the right spot in her clit that made her moan and pull it out of her mouth. But she quickly recovered and kept sucking, making you put even more pressure and work your magic inside her folds until you finally turned her into a moaning machine.

"Oh God", she said in the middle of many moans. But you didn't care. "Put that tongue in my balls", you immediately asked from her as she also jerked you off with her glove around your shaft. All your fingers except your thumb were now fucking her pussy, making Eunbi moan with your balls in her mouth. "That fucking pussy is so damn wet", you exclaimed before moving to her tits, groping them hard once more, and sitting on top of Eunbi for another round of titfucking, even better now with her tonguing your asshole.

After a while, you flipped Eunbi back, ripping her nurse outfit for good and going back to work. Her cunt was even wetter now. Eunbi was caught off guard by the speed at which you were plowing her, moaning like a submissive toy. You spat on her vagina and slapped your cock against her clit, before going back in for another extreme pounding, rattling the bed. "Oh God", Eunbi screamed again as you started fingering her while working her insides. Her legs started to tremble, giving you even more room to destroy her unchallenged as her left leg went up in the air. "You're so fucking deep, I'm gonna cum", Eunbi announced as you fingered her hard, making her legs shake even harder.

"There you go, cum for me, bitch", you said as you noticed Eunbi shaking, her legs closing, and her screaming as you kept pounding her while she reached intense orgasms. "Holy shit", you said as her insides closed around your cock, but you kept fucking her relentlessly, taking advantage of a now weaker than ever Eunbi. She kissed you, trying to cling to anything as her fuckhole kept being obliterated. She could barely speak properly, saying a bunch of words you interpreted as "keep sticking that cock deep inside me." After a while, all she could do was beg. "Please, please, please", she kept screaming.

You dropped Eunbi to the ground, letting her taste her juices straight from your cock. "Good girl", you laughed, putting a stop to it as she attempted to suck it deep by fucking her face once more. Eunbi was so weak, you managed to grab her by the nipples and pinch her back against the wall. She put her right leg on the window as you fucked her from behind, spanking her ass in the process. More grunting noises came from her mouth as you continued the pounding and spanking. "You're a fucking animal, fucking me so good", she said. Hearing it gave you further incentive to fuck her even harder, turning her ass cheeks redder at each spanking. "I'm that fucking bitch", Eunbi kept saying.

Indeed, by that point, Eunbi was your bitch, as she started shaking once more. Sensing it, you fingered her folds again, seeking for that second orgasm in just a short period of time. Eunbi lost her balance, gabbing your cock with her left hand as it landed right on her face. "Do you want it, bitch?", you asked her. "Yes, put it on my tongue", Eunbi said, almost losing her voice. She licked your tip before you stuck it deep in her throat once more, grabbing her by the neck as soon as she gagged. You lied on the bed with Eunbi on top of you. She finally got herself fully naked as you inserted your cock back into her pussy. Her big tits were looking amazing.

You gave no time for Eunbi to adjust, keeping control even with her on top, grabbing both her boobs while thursting hard inside her pussy. Both your hands went down to finger her clit as you made the bed scream. "That's for you, my tight pussy, that's for you, baby", she said, almost out of breath as you kept destroying her babyhole. "I love watching that dick split me up", Eunbi said as you spread her clit wide open, exerting extreme stimulation on her sensitive spots. You slapped her clit as she moaned louder, before rocking her hips and pounding her insanely, then gripping her boobs once more. Eunbi had barely any force to do anything, spitting on her own pussy which prompted you to call her a nasty girl. "So good; I'm a dirty fuckwhore", she said.

You put her body close to yours, kissing her while your right hand held her clit. "I'm a fucking whore, I'm a fucking whore, for you", she repeated as your mouth sucked her neck and right boob. "There you go, come on, come on, bitch", you said as Eunbi once again was coming close, shaking her legs once again. Eunbi was now completely dominated, as you grabbed her tits hard and kept plowing her, her head almost falling out of the bed. "Take me, take me, take me", she demanded as you pumped her hard. All she could do was moan. Her legs kept shaking as you fingered her once more, her body twitching as she came onto your fingers. As she released her juices, you spanked her juices and quickly moved back to her tits, stimulating her at both the top and bottom of her body.

"That's my whore, that's my whore", you exclaimed as you rocked the bed, putting your right hand in her mouth to silence her moans. Eunbi started fingering herself as you kept pounding her, finally reaching full climax and rocking her hips against your cock. You asked her to pull it out so she could taste it. Eunbi savored it as if she were a kid eating ice cream, but she wanted more, quickly jumping on top of you and lining your shaft back against her entrance. "Put it in", you demanded, hugging Eunbi as soon as she was deep inside you. Unlike Jihyo, you knew she didn't have the strength for a ride after such a rough pounding, meaning all you got was another chance to destroy her pussy unchalleged.

Of course you took it, starting very slowly and giving her ass some grabbing and spanking. Eunbi was crying at this point; her moans were now followed by tears flowing out of her eyes. "Daddy, daddy", finally hearing those words from Eunbi's mouth made you flip a switch, turning you more animalesque than ever as you switched quickly from slow thursts to another hard plowing, wrapping her body around your arms. "AH AH AH. FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME", Eunbi screamed, trying to hold herself to the bed's headboard and to the wall as you sucked her tits. "DADDY!" she screamed again and started riding you, trying to show she wasn't being utterly dominated, her bounces were deep and slow, almost like she was exerting all the will inside her to execute them.

That didn't last long, as you quickly got back to your normal route, plowing Eunbi once more. You unwrapped her from your arms, letting her body stay upright, reaching now to grab her tits. Eunbi moaned some uninteligible noise, which you heard as "FUCK MY PUSSY", You obliged and kept going, pushing her ass down against your pelvis, then you You quickly take Eunbi in your hands, grabbing her waist with ease, and carry fuck her once more, more violently than ever. You then pull out of her, slapping her face as you put the bed's pillow on the floor, pushing her head towards it. An upside-down Eunbi then screams, "GET ME PREGNANT NOW.".

That was what you wanted to hear. The thought of impregnating two titcows on back-to-back days gets you extremely turned on. You put Eunbi in a piledriver position, grunting as you get back inside her. Eunbi's tits and her slutty moaning mouth upside down make you get even more maniac. "PUT THAT ASS UP, I WANT THAT CUM FLOWING STRAIGHT TO YOUR FUCKING WOMB", you yell at Eunbi as you pull out to let her adjust before going back in again, this time not even looking at her, treating her as if you were fucking your personal fleshlight. "Cum in my little fuckhole", Eunbi demands, to which you answer by spanking her ass. You start groaning, ready to burst at any moment. "OH MY GOD, YOU'RE SO DEEP", she screams. "Spread that pussy for me, bitch", you scream. As Eunbi now can only moan, she closes her eyes, getting ready for you to fill her womb with your thick load. "Give me that fucking cum", she says right as your cock pumps out that white milk straight into her womb. You pull out but have so much to give; some of it bursts right after and hits her tits.

"You drained me good, you fucking bitch", you tell her. "That's amazing", Eunbi says as she cleans your cock, satisfied that she won't have Jihyo as the only one bragging about the wonders of your cock. "Exactly what I needed", you say as you walk out of the room after two days of putting up an exhilarating breeding clinic for these two titcows. Eunbi fainted on the floor as you put your clothes back on and left. As you went back home, you deleted all your fancams from your drive, knowing you'd never be able to replicate the experiences. In your drive, only two sets survived: Jihyo in a bikini and Eunbi bouncing on that waterbomb festival. As if you ever missed them, you could take a look at those tits and remember these special times.

#jihyo smut #eunbi smut #kwon eunbi smut #twice smut #izone smut #girl group smut #female idol smut

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