#maelstrom drabble | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mysteria157 · 9 months ago

Text

Undone

nanami kento x black fem reader

wc- 2.8k

warnings- angst, heavy themes, mental health and healing, the fluff that nanami brings.

a/n: I have been feeling like poo these past few days and trying to find my voice in writing. So I created a little drabble that helped me feel better. hopefully, it does for others as well. happy reading

divider: @saradika | JJK Masterlist

He hasn’t heard from you in days.

Granted, that first date was 12 weeks ago, but Nanami is used to the string of texts between you that is consistently pinging—a feat that Nanami never thought to reach. He’s used to the late night phone calls, the FaceTimes that are meaningless because he just wants to look at you. But for the first time, you turned him down.

Three days ago, on the morning of a nice dinner he had planned, you called with a scratchy voice, “I’m just really tired today, but I’ll be shipshape in no time!” You had insisted.

With vigilance sewn into his body since the day he could remember, Nanami notices right away something is wrong. Maybe it was the distant crack of your words. Maybe it was the fact that you cleared your throat once, no—two times to make yourself sound as professional as possible. As if Nanami is an employer and not the man you’ve decided to let into his life.

Regardless, he was as polite as always. Content to change the subject and send you well wishes before hanging up. The meme texted to his phone five minutes later, sweetening whatever sour concoction had manifested in his belly from your phone call. But still…Nanami knows. So he waits.

He waits three days of agonizing silence before a maelstrom of worry finally claws its way to the surface of his pool of impassivity. He stops by the market first and grabs ingredients. There’s a soup recipe you love—a recipe he soaked up like a sponge as he hovered near you in your kitchen during your first date. He’ll make that.

On his way out of the market, his eyes catch a bouquet of Asian lilies. Sunset orange petals adorned with long dark stamen. He picks up a modest bouquet—something large enough to make you smile every time you see them, but not too much to make you sneeze from your allergies.

It’s 6:47 PM when Nanami’s shoes touch your welcome mat. Even as his eyes trace the tawny ‘Welcome!’ made of coir, he can feel the unease wafting from behind your closed door. Your spare key rests in his closed hand, the metal digging into his palm in a silent question. You insisted that it wasn’t too soon in the relationship for this, to have access to each other in this way. After all, finally opening his heart to love after keeping it locked behind the demands of work, Nanami wanted to take things slowly. But you had other plans—you always do. And now, Nanami is glad to have relented so quickly when you gave him the spare key two weeks ago.

You’re a tidy person, meticulous to a fault. So it’s easy for him to spot the littering of disarray. The curtains are drawn tight, casting your home into darkness. A trail of clothes starts from the door and trails to your room. There are dirty dishes in your sink—you hate going to bed with a messy kitchen. The air is permeable—a physical being that Nanami can see the particles as they float and scurry with his movements through your home.

He finds you in your room, a tornado of dirty clothes and empty takeout containers, three blankets deep, with only the top of your hair visible. The air is just as stale in here—heavy with the kind of silence that comes to life from too many hours alone with dark thoughts. Your phone lies on your nightstand, face-down, notifications from others probably neglected along with Nanami’s. He hates the sight, angry at whatever malevolent force that’s decided to torment you, and now he fights it.

The rustle of Nanami setting his things down makes you stir, the lump of covers oscillating with your movements as a flash of your melanin-rich skin pokes from the dark hole where you reside. Your eyes meet his—surprised, alarmed, and immediately angry.

“Get out,” you snap, your voice gravelly from disuse. Through the curtain of your textured hair, Nanami catches a sliver of your icy gaze, foggy with the heaviness he can smell in the room. He takes a step closer, and it’s a step too far. Your tired eyes widen with a simmering fury that makes Nanami think twice.

“Why can’t you listen?! You can’t be here…” you stop short, squeezing the covers around your already decaying form like a lifeline. “Not when I’m—like this.”

He takes another cautious step—your eyes narrow, a weak challenge—then another until he sits at the edge of your bed. The dip from his weight causes your feet to curve into the cavern, toes touching his thighs from beneath your covers.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

The still air seems to vibrate from your fury, dust motes zipping haphazardly as if being pulled back and forth by an invisible force.

“Call you? Call you?? So you could see this? So you could see how I can’t even—“A lump of confusion and rage dies in your throat, the sound gurgling like a sewage pipe. His hands clasp the blanket that covers your shoulders, pulling you up gently with no resistance. You want to smack his hands away, to yell at him to leave and never come back. Because you’re not ready for him to see you like this. Not yet.

But despite the bark of your bite, you’re exhausted—mentally and physically.

“I wanted to wait a few weeks,” you ramble, eyes turned away from him as you shiver from the cold air on your exposed upper half. You’re still wearing the same shirt from three days ago when you called Nanami to cancel; your eyes had already been filled with tears, your throat suffocating beneath torrential thoughts and negativity that springs to life when you least expect it.

“No one wants to see this so soon.”

“From that statement alone, I’m going to assume the men you dated before were below average in all respects.”

“Everyone expects some grandiose gesture to make all of…this go away. And it’s not that fucking simple.” You don’t acknowledge his assessment. Still rambling, still trying to push him away even as he stands. He pulls you up with him with a firm grip still on your shoulders, his care poking at your defenses with inquisitive fingers.

Your knees buckle, threatening to give out without the reassurance of his hold. Your rambling falls to the wayside, fading into the air around you as you finally comprehend your new position in front of him. Standing for the first time in days, the strength of his hands radiates warmth down to your toes. The room falls quiet, opening its ears to your uneven breathing and the smell of tears.

One beat. Two beats. Three.

“It seems you’re standing now,” he says simply, the low crooning timbre of his voice wafting over your face. You heave in a stuttering breath, suck down his air, and let it fill you from the inside with care you’ve neglected. Nanami doesn’t leave his words open for discussion. There is no question hidden in his matter-of-face statement. There is no undercurrent of judgment.

“A bath.”

“What? Kento—no. I don’t need—I don’t deserve—“ His hand slides from your shoulder to cup your cheek, silencing you with its warmth. You resist leaning into his touch, too embarrassed that he can see you like this—stinky, tired, so utterly crestfallen that you can barely function.

“I’ll draw you a bath. I’ll make you dinner. And once I’m sure you’re at least full and clean, then I’ll go. Until you’re ready for me again.”

Steam rises around you in the bathroom, carrying eucalyptus and lavender from the bath oils you like to indulge in on a terrible day like this one. You draw your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your limbs to bury your head in the gap it creates. Your eyes catch the water droplets on your skin, hydrophobic and suspended in time before sliding into the bath water.

When you turn your head to the side, you catch your living room from the open door. He’s cleaned up—opened the curtains, picked up the laundry, and vacuumed the floors. One of your candles burns bright, the low whir of your washing machine sashaying through the apartment. All things you just haven’t had the energy to do.

It started off small, it always does. One thought—fleeting and infinitesimal—but still heavy with a nervousness that plants in your mind like a maggot, burrowing its way through the meat. Your symptoms are more anxious thoughts, more poor remarks of yourself, more he’s successful who are you kidding? More maybe they don’t like you, why can’t you see that? More once Kento sees this side of you, he’ll never want you again.

More, more, more even though those thoughts hold little evidence to prove true. But for you, those maggots burrow until there is nothing left of you but a hollow shell, a husk that has no choice and no energy but to lay down in bed and sleep the days away until the meat heals again.

Beneath the steam, you can spell the mix of thyme, peeled tomatoes, and garlic. The tomato soup you showed him how to make on your first date. He was inquisitive, watching silently, his eyes falling on yours too often to take good notes. Now, it’s another show of this man you’re growing to love, crafting something for you with his own hands, affection beneath the veil of reservation that he shows everyone else.

It’s too much for you. The tears come quietly, spilling down your cheeks and into the bath water, polluting the love that was used to create it.

You hear his footsteps, padded feet on your now clean floor as he walks into the bathroom and takes in the sight of you. You blink against the rush of embarrassment, too tired to wipe the tears away, too tired to hide a vulnerability you wanted to keep a lid on for awhile longer.

He walks to your sink, gathering product, a hair bottle, and a wide-toothed comb before coming back to you. He kneels beside the tub and rolls up his navy sleeves without ceremony, pinching off his glasses before he sets them on the floor. He’s soft but efficient in the way he rubs your bar soap on your loofah, getting it nice and sudsy. He’s relaxed but observant—his tie loosened but not completely off, his forearms flexing with quelled strength as he washes your back and shoulders, the slight furrow of concentration in his brows as he measures his next words.

“Strawberry and cream cheese danishes.”

“Hm?”

“If I eat one, I’ll want more. So I try to stay away when I can.” Nanami continues, washing the soap off your shoulders before he hands you the loofah. You take it without question, watching him disappear to sit behind you as you wash your limbs.

“After Yu…I would bury my sorrow in work. I worked and worked and worked until my boss forced me to take time off. It’s a sneaky sickness. It likes to watch over you and strike the very moment your guard is down.”

You hear the squeeze of your hair bottle behind you, your snarled strands soaking with rosemary-scented mist in his gentle fingers.

“It’s been years. But when it does hit, that darkness that seems to strangle me and tell me that I should have tried harder, that I should have protected him….I like to go across the street from my home and get a strawberry and cream cheese danish.”

You know Nanami has a sweet tooth. You’ve seen the way his eyes light up from the pies that you like to make, always bringing him a slice to work. You’ve seen the sidelong glance he gives strudel that steams behind glass display cases at the bakery he takes you to. But to imagine him leaving his apartment in the dead of night, wrinkled clothes and bags beneath his eyes, not showered in days—paying for a danish…you hitch a breath, a chuckle squeaking and dying in your throat with a painful lurch.

“Why are you laughing?” He admonishes. You can practically feel the lifted brow and gentle smile on your back. Your skin tingles with the movement of his fingers as he works them through your hair, detangling with rosemary and leave-in conditioner

“Do you buy the three-pack?”

Silence. A pause in your hair before baby hairs flutter from the puff of air he shoots out. You bite your lip to keep the dry smile from forming.

“No,” he lies, playfully.

The heaviness in the air gives way to a light current of brightness from your fleeting smile, from the smell of the tub, and your hair now detangled and loose before shrinkage claims it.

“I’m not sure what’s compelled you to think there’s a proper time to tell me that your thoughts grow dark at random moments in your life. Now, two months from now, it doesn’t matter. I love you.”

The declaration wraps around you, sliding down your ajar mouth and curdling in your lungs with certainty, taking root in the muscle for the foreseeable future.

“And if it is alright,” he continues, carding his fingers through your hair to plait it into a single braid. “I would like to love every part of you. Even the parts you try to hide. The parts that make you think that you’re not good enough—for me, or your friends, or anyone else. If anything, being able to be here, right now, is a privilege I’ll cherish.”

When the fresh tears spill over again, they no longer taint the water you soak in. They cleanse, collecting and filtering away the depression and anxiety that claims so much of your life when you least expect it.

After, when you’re clean and smelling of Shea butter that Nanami slathered you in, you sink into your now clutter-free sofa. The exhaustion settles on your bones in a different way. Well earned after a long battle instead of invasive and unasked for.

Your eyes rest on the lovely bouquet of Asian lilies on your coffee table, fresh with stems cut, curling toward you with open petals so you can see the beauty inside. The gesture fills you with more of that feeling, of love that you never imagined to come so soon with a man like him.

Nanami walks around the sofa, a tray that he sets in front of you carrying his own rendition of your tomato soup, toasted sourdough grilled cheese, and a tall glass of water.

“Extra basil?” You ask, lips wobbly around a smile as you take in another form of his adoration that you’ll have forever if he allows it.

“Extra basil.”

When he returns with his own tray, his hair falling over his eyes in a heap of hard work, he offers you a look. A measured look that’s filled with everything he wants to give, an excitement in his warm brown eyes that you can’t wait to see more of. But it’s shrouded in a gentle reservation with gaps only visible to you. Soft smiles for you. Loving touches for you. A beacon in storms that brew seemingly out of nowhere just for you.

He leans forward and brushes his lips against your forehead, a safe place where he can take some part of you while you heal. But you’d like more. So you tilt your head for him, soaking the warmth from his lips that press against yours softly.

Suddenly, your worries, your dark thoughts, your misery that you let keep you beneath your blankets for days all smoothed over from his touch. Satiated until those maggots in your mind wiggle to life again when they’re hungry.

“Marcus didn’t give a rose to Janine.” He says casually as he draws back to his side and turns on the TV, nonchalant as if he didn’t just spend the evening putting you back together with gentle hands and quiet love.

You relax into his side, looking at his arm with teary eyes as he rests it on the couch behind you, offering a blanket of comfort and safety that you haven’t had in a long time.

“Gojo spoiled it,” Nanami continues, grumbling and annoyed at the two syllables of Gojo’s name touching his tongue. He blows at his spoon of soup, eyes locked on the screen, his sharp features colored with flickering blues and reds.

He notices your stillness—of course, he notices—and offers you another kiss on your cheek before turning back to the show.

“I’ll steal his kikufuku as punishment,” you offer, arm shaking with the gentle chuckle he gives in response.

The soup steams in your hands, your hair soft and braided, your body worshiped and clean, Nanami’s heartbeat permeable beneath his clothes as you sink into him and sip your delicious soup.

For the first time in years, you know when the world feels heavy, he’ll be able to lift that weight off of you before it buries you away.

392 notes · View notes

orangez3st · 2 months ago

Text

Drabble Challenge May 2025 by @thedrabblecollective Day 29: Maelstrom | Masterpost

workplace solace

✧ Star Wars | Fox (CC-1010)/Riyo Chuchi | 19 BBY ✧

The door to Fox's office slides open. Fox looks up. “How was it?”

Riyo crosses the cramped office and takes liberty of his lap. She plops back against his armored form. “A maelstrom of a meeting. I barely registered anything.”

He rubs her arms. “You need rest.”

“I need caf.” Riyo shifts around to face him. “And you.”

She lifts his helmet slightly, just until showing enough skin so she’s able to press a kiss against his stubbled jaw.

Fox hums, his grip on her tightening. “Get back out there.”

Riyo's cheeks ache from smiling, her energy recharged. “Yes, sir.”

A/N: OOP I almost forgot to post today's drabble. Have a Foxiyo one, my first Foxiyo fic ever actually! She's got so many ship partners already and I love them all. Dear Foxiyo enjoyers this is for you ❤️🩵

Credit: bottom divider by @/enchanthings

#drabblechallengemay2025 #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #commander fox #riyo chuchi #foxiyo #fox x riyo #star wars drabble #star wars fanfiction #z3st drabbles

58 notes · View notes

daylighted · 2 months ago

Text

ঌ FLAME & STORM ⚡︎

author's notes ⚡︎ fun fact! i love him. i miss him every day. he is my pookie who can do no wrong. sorry i'm ignoring all my other fics and things to do this drabble i am in a rut so bad </3 forgive me. layout lightly inspired by @cherrygirlfriend rina is so talented i love her sm mwah mwah.

details ⚡︎ ⌞ luke riordan x weather manipulation supe .ᐟ reader ⌝ nature plays funny pranks in the form of pairing natural disasters up as perfect matches

warnings ⚡︎ suggestive content & themes angry kisses car makeout session cheating subtexts godolkin university's parking lot HATES to see them coming all involved can not be held liable for the physical damage caused in the heat of the moment

word count ⚡︎ 763 .ᐟ

lightning flashes in the sky. it cracks as it strikes the ground, each one growing closer in proximity to the single car in the parking lot with its headlights on.

inside is a girl and a boy who have never gotten along, not really. the world defines them as polar opposites. a forest fire and a stormy hurricane in human forms, circling the other like vultures.

one of them was bound to strike first. expectedly, it was you, with the lightning in your veins and dancing across your fingertips.

his skin is hot beneath your palms. even through his shirt, you can feel the fire lurking underneath his skin, pulsing along with his heartbeat as your hands slide down his chest. his tongue is in your mouth, nails clawing at the hips settled atop his.

you break the kiss. you have to breathe, after all. golden boy prides himself on the fact that he is so naturally above the rest of the student body, and so of course, he isn't nearly as out of breath as you seem to be.

your lips do not leave his, though. they stay pressed to his as you pant on the soft, swollen skin. "one of us is bound to burn down this school."

you feel his smile before you hear the laugh that comes along with it. "promise?"

your hand on his chest smacks it. his laugh is more breathless this time, chasing after your lips when you pull back to fix him with a furious glare. "shut up."

"kiss me, then," he whispers with a single peck to your mouth, and one more lingering one. one hand slides up, and then it's around the back of your neck, keeping you captive in the kiss. you've done this before. he knows you will try to break free.

still pressed to his chest, your fingertips crackle. he doesn't mind the zap because he can't feel the burn. outside, thunder rumbles in the sky, a deep backdrop of sound to the panting of your warm breaths intermingling.

the windows are fogged. the rain pouring down on the car's exterior only blurs the view inside and outside of the car further. you can't control the storms you conjure when you're around him, just like he can't help but burn you.

"i hate you," you breathe on his mouth.

"no, you don't," he whispers back, as if you're sharing secrets in the small gap between your two bodies, letting the forbidden nature of it all swallow them whole.

you bite down on his bottom lip, just enough to make him hiss, soothing it with a little flick of your tongue. "i hate this."

he stills for a second. you think you might have pushed it a little too far, bringing up the unspoken confession that you just did. his hands are again too hot on the bare of your back, where they'd crept up beneath your shirt and splayed on the small of it. he'll burn you, you'll drown him, and the universe will laugh at the games that it's played by letting the both of you orbit each other.

instead, you meet luke riordan's eyes, the blaze of flames in their typically blue depths, and see a fierceness you only ever get glimpses of when the storm rages outside too hard, and his head is between your legs, or his cock buried deep inside of you in this very driver's seat.

this is a maelstrom of a situation, and yet you find yourself in it often. you are magnets that repel each other when you get too close, but the tension of how it feels in the moments before you break apart is too good to ever pass up.

it's a disaster waiting to happen. a lightning strike comes close enough to the running metal frame of his car that sparks skitter across the top and the hood, a blinding white that you've grown used to.

he can't hurt you, but he tries. you can't hurt him, but you try. and somehow, despite all of the physical efforts, the only thing that has ever succeeded in hurting either of you was this.

vibrant, alight eyes bore into yours as his fingers find the center seam of your jeans and trace upwards painstakingly slow, until they're curled around the button and popping it open. "so let me make you forget," his mouth trails from the corner of yours down your jaw, your throat, as he whispers the words set to damn the both of you, "how much you hate it."

#dahlia's ☆ journal #luke riordan #luke riordan x you #luke riordan x reader #luke riordan smut #golden boy #golden boy x you #golden boy x reader #gen v #gen v x reader #patrick schwarzenegger #the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon

58 notes · View notes

justbelievinginmagic · 4 months ago

Text

the sea & her moon. davy jones!kim hongjoong x calypso!reader pt 2 / previous drabble 1.5k words. barely edited.

“Ten years,” Hongjoong bit out. "It has been more than ten. years."

His look was not of devotion nor fear. It was of anger. One dark eye swirled like the clouds during a maelstrom. His eye-patch was a new accessory... and foreign to her, only serving to make him look less and less like the soft-cheeked sailor she had met long ago. His anger was equally strange.

She had never been on the receiving side of fury. She was the fury. She was the feared. She was the uncontrollable. The sea. A wicked thing. A cruel thing. A beautiful thing. But she was now simply a woman. Bound in her mortal form, trapped in the same bones that she had met him in. Her wine-red sea of a heart wasn’t endless in this form; it was a trapped organ; it toiled and bubbled and swallowed her up as its waves roughened with… guilt.

He glared as her eyes softened evermore.

“Ten years I devoted to the duty that you charged me,” his words were cutting like the pirate’s blade he now had on his belt.

Her Hongjoong had been a sailor, never a pirate. His lips twitched, a tongue rolling around his mouth as if the words that he spoke were acidic on his tastebuds.

“Ten years, I ferried those who died at sea,” he took another step towards her, nose scrunched. “And finally, when we could be together again!” His tone raised but he did not yell. “You. Weren’t. There.”

The blow to her heart was imminent. Her throat clenched, and her heart swelled like she was the beach at high tide. Flooding over her weak organ to choke her throat. Her eyes burned with salt; the very salt that made up her sea. And as much as she wanted to glance away, in shame, she did not. She couldn’t. Whether it was pride or love, Hongjoong wasn't sure. All YN knew was that she was staring at her Hongjoong - a form she had not laid eyes on in over a century and she wouldn’t let the image of him fade into the depths.

Oh, her sweet love. His face had been hardened by anger, by sorrow. Carved scars she had not bore witness to, had not kissed and soothed or bite and reddened.

She had never wished to leave him lonely; she had promised him she’d be there even if he didnt see her. She had checked in on him, bending the rules of the task at hand. She saw him while he remained blind. She had been there. Beside him, in the ocean foam, sailing beside him. Being sea-locked meant she would see him whenever she wished – it was her. He was never far. Every sparkle of the sun on the sea made her remember her treasure sailed somewhere in her waters. It reassured her while it had destroyed him.

Her absence had clawed at him; he counted down the days in marks on the lonely ship she had crafted him. The Halazia - the light she had told him. (For she thought him to be the moon and the sun.) 3,650 marks marred the wood.

He had long stopped when he turned the blade towards his own chest, carving out his traitorous mournful heart. And in the time afterwards, he had become a ruler in his own right. Cruel as the seas he said. The plentiful jewels and chains and rings and finery screamed his wealth. He’d been busy, gathering crew that were bound to him and the Halazia. They could never leave him now. And even with her in his grasp, behind bars, he faced her with a dark sneer. He wanted to look so different yet he was not. She knew him. His lone eye was stormy but she could see the familiar depth of the dark seas in them. The glimmer of light that reminded her of the sun shimmering off the horizon. His hair was no longer its long length; the mullet she had loved to run her fingers through was now shorn short. Spikey over his forehead. Earrings of aquamarine and gold sparkled in the low-candlelight of the brig. Freckles had kissed his cheeks over the years instead of her own lips. His lips… still had the same curve she dreamt about; his cheeks were still full and warm with anger.

Despite the burn of judgement, the rush of guilt, she felt in her heart a sigh of relief. Because it had been centuries and he did not succumb to the push and pull of the waves. He was not the very sailors he had once ferried. He breathed with the flush of life – even in rage, in scars, in riches. And she knew that all of this was worth it. Selfishly so.

He was alive.

Immortal.

“Why weren’t you there?” His voice was still full of wrath, swallowing him up. But as he watched her stare at him with wonder, he couldn’t help but soften. His tone saddened at the end of his words.

And like an rip tide, he felt his emotions shift. His sorrow sparked into anger once more like a match to a cannon. How could she manipulate him so? Even now, her very presence made him melt, whine like a pup. His vacant chest shivered, fragile. He crossed his arms and glared. He wanted answers. That’s all he wanted. Why? Why? Why? She vexed him so much.

Licking her lips, she whispered: “Its my nature, Hongjoong.”

It wasn’t a lie nor an excuse. It simply was. She leaned forward, her face pressing into the bars that separated them. He tried not to flinch away; his face twitched.

“Would you still love me if I was anything but what I am?”

He jolted at that like a lightning strike in a storm. And instead of retreating, he took a step forward. His own face so close to the bars separating them. Hands intertwined over the rusted, barnacle-y metal. His hot humid breath felt like the kiss of life. She couldn’t help but embrace it. Humanity, her mortal form, made her relish these little things more than ever - even after decades of imprisonment. His eyes crashed and clashed with the waves of the ocean; she heaved in time.

“I do not,” he spat the words,” love you, YN.”

His words cut her. She had once believed no being could hurt her; she was a Goddess, a thing of power. Even in her mortal form, she held the cards of fortune. Words cried at her by mortals were follies. Silly and simple creatures acting out.

But he wasn’t a mortal anymore.

He wasn’t just a man.

He never had been.

He was her Hongjoong.

Tears slipped over her cheeks, big and fat as they poured over the shore of her cheeks. Drip, drip, drip. They joined the salt-water that broke through into the brig. The ship creaked a mournful sound.

He had never seen her weep. And he thought he'd never feel a stabbing pain in his chest again, but here his scarred chest ached at the sight of her tears. His hands trembled; he held on to the brig tighter so he wouldnt try to touch her salt-stained cheeks. So he wouldn't kiss away her suffering.

He sneered a look that was so alien to her and she realized now that she had done this. Made this.

Even in her attempts to keep her love by her side, she had somehow failed. She had thought he had known...

She felt the regret swirl; the guilt eat away at her heart like it was rock turned to sand. Her emotions were rampant as a Goddess. She knew this. Fleeting and fast, some said wild. As herself, as the ocean’s one and only, she came and went with the tides. It was nature. It wasn’t out of cruelty. Her waves had pulled her elsewhere while he waited. Waited. Waited.

Waiting was never her strong suit. The ocean was an impatient being. 10 years was both an eternity and a blink of an eye. And she had forgot to rush back to swallow him whole. But she was going to return. He hadnt left her mind. She thought he knew that. He was her light, her Moon. He was ever-present, there, even when she was gone. Her first and only love. He was hers. She had thought he knew.

She had never favored someone before. Never bestowed her affections so earnestly. She had never offered the task she had offered him to any other. The sea gave and took. YN never thought she had taken so much from him. She had stolen his mortality for their love. But she realized now in the pursuit… she had tainted his soul. And in doing so he saw his immortality for what it wasn't. A curse.

It hadnt been that… she hadnt wished that. It was supposed to be a blessing. Eternal love. Together. Sea and Moon.

But like many things, a gentle rain turned into a tropical storm without much warning. Two wild souls clashed. He had carved his heart out to be free of the torment of her absence. Heartbreak. His aching heart was locked up and tossed aside like a monster. Forsaking his duties, he plundered and pillaged and shanghaied souls who had passed at sea to join his cursed crew and ship.

He had buried his heart away on the very island they met so he’d never feel her again. That very action told her the truth. Her teary eyes rose to meet his gaze solidly. Assuredly despite her damp features. Her own hands rose to wrap around the prison he kept her in - a breath away from touching his own hands.

“Oh, Hongjoong,” she spoke his name soft and soothingly like a wave licking at the shore in the moonlight. He shivered and tightened his grip. Her sweet-salt burned him. Her tears bit at his open wounded soul and soothed it the next with her dulcet tones. His empty chest ached for its missing piece. Only proven, when she said:

“You don’t hate me.”

#a lil rambly for sure #but this is all i got lol #hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong x reader #hongjoong angst #hongjoong fluff #ateez x reader #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong drabbles #written by haley

67 notes · View notes

insight-chronicles · 2 months ago

Text

Drabble Challenge - Maelstrom

It felt like worlds were colliding. Building shook as both earth and air were contorted by the maelstrom of power that had formed.

Blissfully unaware, you and your boyfriend were lying exhausted and sweat covered in bed…or at least what remained of the bed. You’d both let your strength get the better of the furniture in the room. As Jinwoo tried to right himself more of the bed gave way underneath him, sending him crashing to the floor and you into fits of laughter.

“Keep laughing like that and we’ll do it again.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Masterlist

46 notes · View notes

knight-hiccup · 5 months ago

Text

━━━━━BLOG NAVIGATION✦

━━━━━LAST UPDATED✦ 07.08.2025

━━━━━MY GIFS✦ (Requests Open for HTTYD)

━━━━━MY RULES✦ (Closed)

━━━━━MY WIPS 1 - 2 ✦

━━━━━MAELSTROM SERIES✦ ↳ HICCUP HADDOCK ✦━━━━━MAELSTROM DRABBLE━━━━━✦

━━━━━DRAGONSBANE SERIES✦ ↳ HICCUP HADDOCK

━━━━━KRAVEN✦ ↳ SNOTLOUT JORGENSON

━━━━━VALOR✦ ↳ HICCUP HADDOCK

━━━━━FANDOMS I WRITE FOR✦

85 notes · View notes

ryescapades-archived · 11 months ago

Text

★┊[ kaiju no. 8 ] .ᐟ

➾ back to main

— ୨୧₊˚ MINI SERIES

of the same thread (narumi gen x lil sis!reader + bf!hoshina soshiro) <3

— ୨୧₊˚ VARIOUS

lover boy (hsn, nrm, rn) 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 what are they like when in love <3 caprice (hsn, nrm) 𓂃 fluff/crack 𓂃 dazai!reader extra hybrid au (nrm, hsn) 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 how it's like having a snow leopard and a panther with you <3 model au (nrm / hsn) 𓂃 suggestive 𓂃 having you with him during a photoshoot, though not physically

— ୨୧₊˚ HOSHINA SOSHIRO

late 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 your beloved is working late again <3 sweetheart 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 being his long-time bestfriend who's hung up on a promise long sworn during your childhood caprice 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 dazai!reader working alongside hoshina as one of his platoon leaders aubade 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 weapon specialist!reader + hand kisses from the one you adore the most <3 thorny predicament 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 yor forger!reader + fake marriage trope darling dearest 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 how the third division finds out about your relationship with him <3 saccharine 𓂃 nsfw 𓂃 what you think is supposed to be a one night stand turns out to be something more cherry blossoms 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 sakura haruka!reader + lots of teasing orphic 𓂃 nsfw 𓂃 that 'oh shit' moment when you reunite with the best fling you've ever had she looks just like a dream 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 hoshina with a medic!reader

— ୨୧₊˚ NARUMI GEN

fanboy | pt.2 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 idol!reader + hardcore fan narumi date 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 he takes you out on a date while at work <3 rivals? 𓂃 fluff/crack 𓂃 captain!reader + bickering caprice 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 narumi falling for dazai!reader from the third division cozy 𓂃 nsfw 𓂃 seeking comfort after a battle gone wrong wild heart 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 mitsuri kanroji!reader + pure villain manhwa inspo lovebug 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 narumi with an overly loving partner <3 dandelions 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 the mutual attraction between you two would've been realized sooner, if only you'd stopped being in denial limitless 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 narumi with gojo!reader hybrid au 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 snow leopard!narumi as your housemate <3 mine all mine 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 if he could, narumi would've kept you in his pockets and away from these NPCs maelstrom 𓂃 angst 𓂃 how everything falls apart dog tag 𓂃 sfw 𓂃 drabble fwb!narumi 𓂃 sfw 𓂃 drabble all his guns were blazing 𓂃 sfw 𓂃 jealous!narumi drabble

— ୨୧₊˚ ICHIKAWA RENO

serene 𓂃 fluff 𓂃 some quiet moment with him

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

#🪁 rye masterlist #🥣 rye works #kn8 #kn8 x reader #kn8 x you #kn8 x y/n #kaiju number 8 #kaiju no.8 #kaiju no 8 #kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #kaiju no 8 x you #kaiju no.8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 x you #kaijuu 8 gou #kn8 fanfic #kn8 fluff

135 notes · View notes

pshstar · 1 year ago

Text

haikyuu !! library

below are fics of jjk that i personally like

note: do inform me if there is an error to the links! just send me an ask or dm me

—nav.

kuroo tetsuro

dry humping @haikyuu-sins

boss!kuroo | @4unnyr0se

just a pill | @tiza0925

akaashi keiji

bare tighs | @cherrye

kageyama tobio

apple cider | @4unnyr0se

that's it | @cherrye

miya atsumu

thigh riding | @teamatsumu

dilf!atsumu | @sugawara-sweetheart

virgin!atsumu | @kuroosdarling

chaperone | @ramhaiba

miya osamu

suna rintarou

lazy day | @pin-k-ink

bf!suna | @ravenslvt

bestfriend's brother - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 | @ravenslvt

untitled | @the-travelling-witch

untitled II | @hxltic

drabble | @kiatoru

jealousy | @cxsha-lilith

consume | @k4g3hika

miya twins (poly)

maelstrom - 1 - 2 | @pin-k-ink

share me! | @titsuya

somethin' new | @kiyoomi-levin

double trouble | @sluttsumu

ushijima wakatoshi

lusus | @pin-k-ink

it's sticky, toshi | @lxnarphase

seijoh 4

crush - 1 - 2 | @mulberrysilk

group sex | @teamatsumu

multi x reader

ticking dine bomb (sakuatsu) | @creative-crybaby

three's a crowd (bokuro) | @jinkicake

a dip in the hot tub (bokuro) | @mythiccheroacademia

untitled (kuroshima) | @haikyuusmut

untitled II (bokuaka) | @sugawara-sweetheart

a minute too late (atsukage) | @kuromochimi

saturday morning (sunaosa) | @half-baked-biscuit

separate / multi

match my freak ! | @wttcsms

ex boyfriend | @ravenslvt

that wasn't what it sounded like! | @fuyuluvr

is your girlfriend single? |@fuyuluvr

masterlists

@xrux ♡...

@jinkicake ♡...

@pin-k-ink ♡...

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu time skip #haikyuu fic #kuroo testuro #kuroo smut #akaashi keiji #akaashi smut #kageyama tobio #kageyama smut #miya atsumu #miya osamu #atsumu smut #osamu smut #miya twins #suna rintarou #suna smut #smut #haikyuu x reader

167 notes · View notes

berryispunk · 2 months ago

Text

Demo Tapes

Day twenty-nine of @thedrabblecollective's challenge !! In case you missed it catch up with the AU created for this here (necessary)

Because I’m that extra, each drabble comes with its own song—featuring the word of the day in either the lyrics or the song title, listen and save here

todays prompt: Maelstrom

later today there's gonna be another snippet of them for you :)

It hit her like a wave—a maelstrom of everything—as his name lit up the screen. They’d been texting again, but never called. Heart pounding in her ears, she picked up.

“Wrong number.”

A low chuckle. “Hey, Firefly.”

“Actually—it’s Elena.”

“What?”

“My real name. It’s Elena.”

Pause.

“Well… nice to meet you, Elena.”

She smiled. Stupidly.

“Nice to meet you, Francisco.”

Then they talked. About everything. About nothing. And somewhere between the laughter and the silences that said more than words, she felt it—this wasn’t just a reconnection.

It was something real, rising from the ashes of what they once were.

thanks for reading 💌

drabbles masterlist

main masterlist

tags: (if you don't wanna be tagged anymore, let me know!) @speaktothehandpeasants @kungfucapslock @sidelit @felix-enthusiast @kakiki3 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @capuccinodoll @whirlwindrider29 @christinamadsen @sheepdogchick3 @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @brittmb115 @greenwitchfromthewoods @diabaroxa @glycerinrivers @biapascal @copperhalfcent @beaniebailey @thepilatesprincess @axshadows @kirsteng42 @joelsgoodgirl @ellenmunn @matchalov3 @canadianfangirl-95 @picketniffler @hotforpedro @tuquoquebrute @noovaarq @warmdragonfly @theanothersherlockian @littleluc @76bookworm76 @inept-the-magnificent @confusedpuffin @wheatmaze @rav3n-pascal22 @picketniffler @lostinmyownmaze

#berryfiction #francisco morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal fandom #pedroverse #pedro pascal cinematic universe #drabblechallengemay2025 #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales fanfiction #angst #addiction #female oc #frankie morales x oc!reader #rockstar! Frankie #alternate universe #like a song stuck in my head

34 notes · View notes

fayes-fics · 2 years ago

Note

Anthony + regency + newlyweds, reader and anthony absolutely hate each other with a passion any kink tbh

Kinktober 2023: Anthony + Hate Sex

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Paring: Anthony Bridgeton x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, arranged marriage, newlyweds, loss of female virginity, hate sex, smidge of innocence/corruption kink, dose of breeding kink, vaginal sex, creampie.

Author’s note: hi nonny 🫶 So I went with hate sex and threw in a little touch of breeding kink as well, cos I got another ask for it, and damn, it seems to be popular. So there tumblr you get two Anthony breeding kinks in a row - one modern, one Regency. This is not a drabble lol. Enjoy! 😁🧡

His wedding ring is cold against your face as he holds your jaw, inspecting your appearance up close.

“Pleasing countenance,” he opines casually; you feel vaguely like livestock being inspected before purchase at market.

How you can hate and desire someone so much and in equal measure is confounding. Married to Viscount Bridgerton in a business deal brokered by your opportunistic father, you only set eyes upon him as you walked up the church aisle earlier today. And god in heaven if your body didn't want to melt on the spot instantly. So very handsome with depthless brown eyes. Well, until he opened his braggard mouth. Then, you wanted to scream as much as you wanted to throw yourself at him.

Now, here you are. Your wedding night. Your marital bedroom. Your new husband. He perfunctorily ordered you to strip naked as he did the same. Your eyes bulge at the sight of him without clothing. Particularly an angry, large protuberance he referred to as his cock, which right now is branding your belly, leaving a sticky streak that, for some strange reason, you yearn to taste.

He steps away and rounds behind you, spanking a hand across your bottom cheek that makes you squeak, startled.

“Appealing shape. Good child-bearing hips,” Anthony assesses cooly.

You have to tamp down an urge to swing back and clock him in the jaw. The only reason you don't is the flood of pleasure in your limbic system as your bum tingles with his handprint, inner thighs now damp.

He circles back in front of you as you square your jaw and meet his scrutinising eye fiercely. You gasp loudly as a finger quests unexpectedly between your legs, into your damp curls and prods your body somewhere you have never been touched.

“A maiden, indeed, as promised.”

As he withdraws, you are as much afire as you are indignant.

“If I pass your grade…,” you sneer behind gritted teeth, “…I do suppose there is the matter of the marital act to get over and done with.”

“You know of it?” he looks surprised, but not unpleasantly so, a gravelly hitch in his voice.

“Somewhat,” you bluster, defensive. “I know it is my duty; it is necessary to create children, and I may not enjoy it.”

“True, true and not true,” he argues back. A warm hand shoots out suddenly to cup your breast, making you inhale sharply. “You will love it,” he swaggers.

And again, even as you press into the thumb swiping your nipple, your hatred for his conceit flares hot in your throat, indignation he can be so… just so… HIM.

But then he leans in and kisses you. An all-consuming invasion of your mouth and senses that leaves you breathless, plundered, besmirched, forever changed. And practically begging for more, having to bite the tongue he teased to stop yourself from voicing it.

As he pulls away, you see a brief maelstrom in his eyes, a flash of vulnerability, as if he is also taken aback, before he turns his expression flinty.

“Get on the bed and open your legs wide,” he orders curtly. “We shall indeed get this done. As much as you may hate me, and I dislike the circumstances.”

“Why dislike?” you ask, genuinely intrigued, even as you do as you are told, taking your place, lying with your legs out wide flat on the bedding.

“Not like that,” he sighs impatiently, tapping your feet upwards so your knees are bent. “And to answer your question, while I did not marry for love, I do wish for at least a degree of cordiality with my Viscountess,” he adds with a regret-filled sigh, clambering onto the bed.

“I can be cordial,” you counter as he climbs over you, that large cock bobbing as he does so, a lump in your throat at the sight.

He stills, and a smirk takes over his entire face.

“Prove it,” he challenges huskily, raising an eyebrow, your body ripening at his unanticipatedly playful tone.

“You are handsome,” you concede, trying your best not to show how flustered you are as he slowly presses his naked body into yours, bearing you down into the plush mattress. So much heat and warm skin, the soft dark hair on his chest teasing your puffy nipples.

“Go on…” he rumbles, a vibration in your ribcage as he does.

“I'm sure our children would be intelligent as well as beautiful,” you offer, giving your honest assessment.

“Would they now…” his voice is like dark velvet as his lips delicately trace your neck, then suck insistently on a spot that makes you stumble, a ripple of pleasure running down your limbs.

“A… And… And when you are not speaking, I actually think I could tolerate you,” you admit as his hot throat kisses cause a warmth spreading inside like a conflagration.

“I won't speak then,” he chuckles richly. “I will however…” there is a pause as he passes his cock over the apex of your thighs, and your mouth falls open in shock at a sharp, thrilling stab, “...make you scream my name.”

You stare up at the man hovering over you, completely enthralled by him—his power, his beauty, his mischief, and yes, his arrogance. A loop of desire and dislike as never-ending and strong as the shiny bands you both now wear on your fingers.

“Prove it,” your cutting, parroted response tumbles from your lips unbidden.

The passion and shock painted across his face make you melt inside like toffee—viscous and sweet.

“Oh, Viscountess, yesss,” he purrs sibilant. “That’s the spirit.”

He kisses you again, all breathtaking tongue and teeth, and this time, you push up into him, canting your body off the bed. He growls as you do, his touch turning edgier and rougher. Hands loop around your thighs and drag you down the bed.

“Any ache will be fleeting,” he assures, as butterfly wings beat under your ribs.

You gasp at a blunt pressure, followed by a twinge of pain. You are speechless as his cock slides into your body, your toes curling, your fingers wrapping around his flexing biceps as your insides stretch so wide to accommodate him. He stills, allowing you time to process the rush of stimuli, bussing a light kiss on your temple as you grapple with the fullness, entirely novel but not at all unpleasant. Then he begins to move slowly within you, a gentle rock of his hips as you whimper and grasp his arms tighter, needing an anchor.

“This is what you will enjoy every night,” he declares as he surges into you with a force that makes you pant and stare at him wide-eyed.

“Every night?! N-Not just one?!” you fight out, words garbled, overwhelmed, almost incapable of speech.

“No, no. We shall do this every night until you are with child,” his tone prideful and possessive; he leans down and bites your earlobe, his speech gusting humid over your cheek. “And even then, I dare say I shall not stop. You will be all the more irresistible when heavy with my child.”

He has flipped a secret switch buried deep in your belly, a magnetic pull calling for him like a siren song, wanting nothing more, as if it is your most significant purpose in life to bear his progeny.

“I… I want your children,” you stutter truthfully.

Your confession does something primal to him, hunching over you and taking you harsher now, hands grabbing your flesh hungrily as his cock ploughs into you. He moves quicker, the drag against that swollen nub between your legs making your lungs feel tight and your brain fuzzy. All the hatred draining from you, the scales tipping wholly towards the other side—total carnal lust. A craving for him and his body and to continue the Bridgerton name you now also bear.

Your hands tentatively explore his contours as you grow bolder, and he fucks you harder. His expression as he pulls up to look over you veering close to ragging affection.

“Do you like it?” he murmurs, a beautiful boyish smile claiming his face as you nod. “Do you want to do it more?” Again, you silently affirm. “Do you still hate me?” he whispers. You shake your head as he kisses your forehead. “Shame. You are so very beguiling when you fight me,” he confesses as if exposing a chink in his armour.

“I also did not say I liked you…” you quip, feeling emboldened, your cadence rising with each deep stroke he takes.

His inky pupils glitter down at you. “Indeed you did not,”

And with that, he sinfully sucks on two fingers, staring you down, worming them between your bodies. You cry out as he nudges your burning nub—so much wetness and heat. All the while, his pace never wavers.

“Pleasure is key to conception,” he explains, even as your brain turns off.

“Please don’t stop,” you pant, climbing higher and higher, nails scratching his back.

“I’m never stopping,” he rasps, his tone sincere.

He snaps his hips harshly, and all you can do is cling to him as your body flings you over a breathtaking peak, vision whiting out as your body shudders and your pussy flutters hard around his invading cock, which feels shatteringly huge with each convulsion. He groans, and as you feel yourself floating, he grabs your face and holds his directly over yours. His body stills, his face contorted in ecstasy as he also seems to reach a climax, a warm bloom deep inside you that can only be from him, from his cock. He slumps over you, both of you panting, winded.

“Now you have my seed, darling girl,” he slurs after a moment, the term of affection catching you slightly off-guard.

“Is that what I can feel?” You stumble, still dazed.

“Yes, you shall dutifully grow me a baby Bridgerton with it, will you not?” he looks at you expectantly.

“Yes, my lord,” you nod solemnly.

And you mean it.

No taglist as these drabbles are short

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

716 notes · View notes