#and everything in between is a matter of proportion

[irreverent-saints]

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A Formal Invitation

“So, are you planning on leaving immediately?” Dravad said, leaning over a small hill as if it was the back of a chair. He resembled a big cat basking in the sun. His tail trailed behind him, waving with mellow interest.

“I’d hate to overstay my welcome.” Idun said. He nodded.

“You’re the first human I have ever invited to my home. Would you mind staying for tea?”

He looked upon her with large, hopeful eyes. Idun’s legs felt weak as she took him in. From the dozens of scars scatted around on his body, to wiry musculature under taut skin, to the way she could feel his heartbeats resonate with seconds between them.

“Any particular reason why?”

“I’d prefer it if the person with access to my home did not remain a stranger for long,”

Idun looked around, hands folded.

It was not by any means a sinister request, in fact, what he asked for seemed rather reasonable. Still she refused to look away from his clawed hands.

“Tea, what do you mean by that?” She asked. His eyes lit up.

“Nettle, rosehip, chamomile. Beyond that, herbs few have heard of, and fewer still tasted. Not to mention the camellia and all it’s derivatives,”

He revelled in recounting them all, as if they were fine cloths or rare keepsakes. Idun nodded along.

“I see, so you just want to drink tea with me. And there is no euphemism?”

“I don’t know what an euphemism is. Nor is it something I can conjure on short notice,” he said, “the tea is good to drink on its own. We’d of course chat a little as well,”

“I suppose it could be nice,” she said.

He offered up his palm.

“Come with me then. There’s a part of the garden where I’m rarely disturbed, it has everything we need,”

Idun hesitated.

“Oh, is this a private matter?” She asked.

“I’d rather not be shot at while tending to visitors,”

She touched the tip of his finger, tracing her hand down its leathery surface.

“I see, do you want me to climb in?”

He nodded. She braced herself, before taking an assertive step onto his palm. She laid low, stomach against his warm skin as he slowly lifted. He led her through the garden, until they arrived at a tall hedge growing near the mountain wall. He snuck past it, revealing a small oasis. It fit him comfortably, without too much room to spare. Large rocks and logs provided places to sit, and a sort of table. He sat her down by a large kiln, Big as a town hall. He removed a stout, blackened kettle from a hook. It clang, reverberating deep into her bones.

“We will drink from the same source, I cannot brew to your proportions,” he said. “Which sort would you prefer?”

He unfurled a tarp that hung from the stone wall, revealing a dozen suspended canisters.

“I’m no expert, which one do you recommend?”

As if on cue he reached towards the upper canister. As he were to grab it, he hesitated.

“What do humans eat?” He asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you like curs and horses? Could ordinary food bane you?”

“Oh. I see. What have you put in this tea?”

“Pepper, cinnamon, chamomile, rose and hibiscus. It’s best served with a body from volcanic stone,”

“Body?”

“The pebbles,”

Idun stared at him. He stared back, “the pebbles,” he repeated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’m not sure what that is,” she admitted.

“A small, rounded rock, not a boulder, not a grain of sand,”

“Why should that be in my tea? Humans aren’t fond of eating stone,”

“How do you keep your gizzard in good health, then?”

“I don’t… think I have one…” she stumbled. Dravad gave her a sceptical, if not contemplative look.

“There’s a lot to learn about you. You’re quite an intriguing critter, it seems…”

“I suppose I am. For the record, I can drink everything in the tea, except for the stone.”

“It won’t be the same, but it will do,” he said, leaning over the kiln, “move, or be incinerated,”

Idun jumped, rushing as far away from the oven as possible.

“Am I safe here?” She asked. Dravad nodded. He kindled the fire. He sourced water from the river and placed the tisane within. Soon a white smoke billowed, and the area filled with floral aromas.

“Many critters are highly sensitive,” he remarked, poking the embers to corral the flame, “I had one horse actually, where I wanted to share my brews with him. All seemed well at first, but within dawn he was lifeless,”

“I’m sorry to hear that,”

“Since then I’ve been attentive, only feeding them what I’ve witnessed them graze upon,”

“So you own horses? Are they as big as you?”

Dravad laughed, pulling the kettle out of the fire.

“No. A horse is a fragile thing, skittish by nature. Small enough to hold in your hand, although it’s advised that you don’t, given that mere fright seems to injure them,”

Idun tried to look for these horses, but struggled to see past the hedges surrounding his oasis. Dravad placed a wooden bucket in front of her, and elegantly managed to tip the pot just enough to fill it without spilling. His fingers daintily held onto its body, elongated by his sharp claws. His own cup was larger than any barrel she had ever seen. Steam danced on the surface. Her bucket contained a brilliantly red liquid. It had a peppery berry scent. Dravad grabbed his drink. She ducked as a tub of boiling water flew over her head. He drank, unbothered by the heat. She watched in silence as he downed gallons with each gulp. She placed her lips to the surface of her tea, taking a tiny sip. Its flavour was intense. Each mouthful brought forth new nuances and notes. She stared at her reflection in the cup.

“Do you like it?” He asked.

“Very much so, I’m impressed,” she said.

The jotun smiled. He rested his face in his palm, looking at her with calm eyes. She shuffled around, feeling his gaze linger. Although he seemed at rest, that pupil really did follow her like an omen. His one eye faced her, the rest of his head tilted far to the side.

“Does your neck hurt a lot?” She blurted out. It broke his trance.

“How would you know?” He asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Whenever you stare at me, you seem to move your head to compensate,” she said. He blinked, flustered.

“I don’t look upon you with ill intent,” he said, leaning forwards. He brought a claw to her jaw, casual as ever. Idun held her chin high, staring right into his eyes, “please don’t mind, I’ve just never seen a human this up close, and you’re a calm one, even,”

The cold, smooth surface of his claw tickled her. He traced it along the underside of her arm, culminating in her hand upon his fingertip. A heat rose in her belly as the massive being touched her with utmost precision.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“Assessing you. Is that bothersome?” With that he withdrew his hand. Idun stepped aside, clutching around her trunk.

“I can’t help but wonder what you find so fascinating about me…” she dryly remarked.

“You seem to have an incredibly keen sense of balance, standing with such rigid posture and no tail to aid. Do your blunted ears help with hearing? How come your pupils are perfectly round? What do you see? Are you born without claws or do you remove them for ceremonial reasons?” He raved, gesturing at her body.

Idun sat there dumbstruck. He waved his tail in anticipation.

“I’m not sure about any of that,” she said, “is that really… all you were looking at?”

“I’ll report back to you if I notice something else peculiar,”

She hesitated.

“Is this considered polite to you? Would you appreciate it if I decided to study your form to comment on everything I found confusing?”

“Maybe. I’d see it as unnecessary. Everybody knows what a Jotun looks like,”

“Right. Show me the back of your wrist,” Idun demanded. He gave her a puzzled look before turning it towards him. She shook her head, “closer,”

He put his arm down on the table, Idun walked up to it. She admired the sheen of his plates and the soft down on his fingers. The heavy chains of gold that appeared dainty over his thick wrist, the polished stone that resembled strings of pearl.

“What’s up with these spurs? Why are they there?” She asked, grabbing at the jagged spikes down his arm.

“Not sure, but I quite like them,” he said, running his other hand across his wrist. He pulled his hair behind his ear and sat upright.

“Does this bother you,” she said, rustling a loose bracelet around atop his hand.

“Not really,”

“You seem more calm than I had expected,” Idun said, “now, what do you need sharp fangs for?”

“Hard to eat without them,” he lowered his head onto the table, pulling his lips back. Idun came face to face with a wall of teeth. His skin was flexible enough to reveal even behind his molars. Everything seemed perfectly engineered to either crush or tear matter apart. She shuddered, then she brought a trembling hand forth, lightly poking a fang the length of her forearm.

“Why did you do that?” She asked.

“You appear to enjoy touching things,” he said. His lips didn’t move, it almost sounded like a regular human spoke from within his head. She blushed, putting her hand in her pocket.

“I didn’t mean to poke around,” she said, “but you’re actually the first Jotun I have seen in the flesh,”

“Really? You must be doing something right, then,”

Idun laughed nervously.

“I do my best to keep the peace, I’m not one to go around asking for a fight,” she said.

“I can see why you don’t find kinship with humans,” he remarked.

“Not all people are bad,”

He sounded a low, rumbling groan as he scratched the scar upon his face.

“I’m sure there are a few exceptions,”

[just-a-little-unionoid]

prev I hope you don't mind me if I use your tags

great exemple of morality as an understanding between instinct and reflexion, and between what you wish and what you want

as far as I'm concerned the craving for violence is normal, we're animals and we feel anger. anger is the emotion of injustice and want. when we feel it it means that we feel like something is unfair, wrong, that we need for it to change, and anger usually makes us violent because that's like, the easiest way to "fix" a problem quickly. except that as humans with an ability for abstract thinking, we can and need to understand that an "easy fix" is rarely the better option on the long term. and so we need, when we feel anger (especially towards someone) to recognise what exactly is the problem and how to really fix it, ideally without creating useless suffering and other issues

so I guess prev congrats for using you human ability to think (unironically, like that's something a lot of people seems reluctant to do which was op's point) and thanks for providing me an opportunity to expose my thoughts on a subject I'm passionate about

Tumblr really is full to bursting of the fascinating category of people who will shout ACAB at the top of their lungs and despise the American prison system with dramatic displays of vitriol but when confronted with someone who did something they actually think is a serious moral transgression cannot conceive of 'justice' meaning anything except the offender suffering, preferably in dramatic and humiliating ways.

You see how the median opinion on prison rape remains shrugging and considering it part of the sentence, really.

[demonlike-judge-of-fire]

havent been interacting that much w the orv community lately (still mega into orv just not in orv online spaces rn) and ive been missing out on the orv movie craze and im lowkey Glad.

[bueckersworld]

hey could you do a angst one shot of how paige and reader are kinda toxic but they always get into arguments but they had a particular one that causes them to break up maybe even if reader or paige cheats anyways then at the end they always go back to eachother no matter how toxic if is

ALWAYS COMING BACK

SYNOPSIS: you and paige have a toxic, all-consuming relationship that finally breaks after she cheats on you. despite the pain, she shows up at your door, angry and desperate, and the two of you crash back into each other like always. no matter how much it hurts, you both keep coming back

WARNING(S): smut - mdni, angst, strap referred to as paige’s dick, mentions of infidelity/cheating, toxicity, profanity.

WORD COUNT: 2.9k. info. masterlist. taglist.

────୨ৎ────

you and paige have always had this thing—this unspoken understanding that things between you are never easy, but they’re always fiery, always intense. you fight like hell one moment, and the next, you’re clinging to each other as if you can’t breathe without the other. it’s the kind of relationship where every argument feels like the last, but it’s never really over. not with paige. not with you.

but tonight, something shifts. tonight, everything cracks.

it started small, like it always does—just an offhand comment about something insignificant, something that usually wouldn’t matter. but with paige, everything becomes something. it always escalates, and you can’t ever just let things slide.

“you’re being ridiculous,” paige snaps, her eyes flashing with irritation. she stands in the middle of your living room, arms crossed defensively over her chest. “i can’t believe you’re making this into a big deal.”

you’ve heard those words a thousand times before, and they never lose their sting. she’s good at deflecting, good at making you feel like the crazy one, like you’re blowing things out of proportion. but you’re not. not this time.

“i’m not being ridiculous, paige. you fucking cheated on me!” the words come out sharper than you mean, but you’re done pretending it’s not the elephant in the room.

paige flinches, but only for a second. then, the walls go up. “i told you it was a mistake. i told you it didn’t mean anything.”

the words cut deeper than you expected. it’s the same line, the same excuse, the same empty apology. you want to scream, want to throw something, but you hold back, the anger bubbling under your skin.

“doesn’t mean anything?” you take a step toward her, your voice tight with rage. “how does that not mean anything? you kissed someone else. you slept with someone else.”

“it didn’t happen like that,” she argues, stepping back, her voice rising now. “it was a mistake, okay? i fucked up. but i’m trying to fix it, aren’t i?”

“fix it?” the irony hits you like a punch to the gut. “you don’t get to fix this. you don’t get to fuck up and then act like i’m the one being unreasonable.”

“i’m not saying that,” paige fires back, voice full of frustration. “you’re just—”

“i’m just what?” you snap, stepping into her space. “i’m just the one who got hurt, right? i’m the one who gets to be the bad guy. well, fuck that.”

paige’s face twists with annoyance, but this time, there’s something else in her eyes—something you recognize as guilt, fleeting as it is. it’s not enough to make you back down, but for a moment, you wonder if she’s actually feeling something real.

but the moment fades too quickly. the walls go back up.

“you always do this,” she mutters, voice low. “you always turn everything around on me. it’s exhausting, you know?”

your heart pounds in your chest, and the air between you two thickens with the weight of everything you haven’t said. everything that’s been building up for months. this isn’t just about the cheating. this isn’t just one argument. it’s the years of lies, of misunderstandings, of moments where neither of you ever really listened to the other.

“you’re right,” you say, the bitterness in your voice more cutting than you expect. “maybe i am exhausting. maybe that’s why i’m so fucking tired of this.”

paige glares at you for a moment, her jaw clenched, and then she says the words that shatter it all.

“i think we should break up,” she says flatly, like she’s not even phased by it. like it’s just another thing to get over with.

the words hang in the air, heavy and final. it feels like the earth has shifted beneath you, the ground cracking, splitting apart. you’re frozen, staring at her, not sure if you’re more angry or hurt. maybe both.

you can’t think straight. you want to scream, to beg her to take it back, to fix everything that’s falling apart. but instead, all you can do is nod, your chest tight with an emotion you can’t name.

“yeah,” you whisper, the words tasting like acid. “maybe that’s for the best.”

paige doesn’t hesitate. she turns her back on you, her footsteps heavy as she walks toward the door. it’s like she’s already done with it. done with you. it makes the ache in your chest grow.

you don’t watch her leave, though you hear the door slam behind her. you stand there for a long time, the silence so loud you can barely hear your own thoughts.

—

the days pass, and you try to move on. it’s not as easy as you thought it would be. paige is everywhere—on your phone, in your mind, in the places you used to go together. every moment feels heavy, and no matter how many times you tell yourself it’s over, it never really feels like it is. not with her.

you think you’re getting used to the emptiness when it happens. the doorbell rings, sharp and unexpected, and for a moment, you think you’re imagining things. but then you hear it again.

you get up slowly, your heart racing as you walk toward the door. and when you open it, you see her standing there. paige. her face flushed with anger, eyes wild with something you can’t quite read.

“paige—” you start, but before you can say another word, she’s already on you.

her hands grab your shoulders, pushing you back into the apartment, the door slamming shut behind her with a force that shakes the walls. she doesn’t say anything at first, just stands there, chest heaving, her breath coming in uneven bursts. it’s clear she’s fuming, but there’s something else in her eyes too—something desperate.

“i can’t fucking do this anymore,” she spits, the words almost a growl. “i fucked up, okay? i know i fucked up. but i’m not letting you go. i’m not letting this die.”

you open your mouth to argue, to say something—anything—but the words die in your throat as paige moves toward you, her hands crashing into your hair, pulling you to her. her lips come down on yours, rough and demanding, a kiss that feels like she’s trying to burn the memory of everything that happened into your skin.

it’s not gentle. it’s not kind. it’s raw. it’s the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless, dizzy, like you’re both drowning in each other’s mistakes. her body presses against yours, forcing you back into the wall, and for a moment, you can’t think. you can’t feel anything except her.

when she pulls away, she’s staring at you, her chest still rising and falling with the force of her emotions. “i don’t care what you say,” she mutters, her voice hoarse. “i’m not fucking walking away from this.”

you pull her in again, crashing your lips to hers, your arms wrapping desperately around her neck like you’re scared she’ll vanish if you let go.

she groans into your mouth, gripping your thighs with ease as she lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around her waist. her body presses against yours like it’s the only place it belongs. she stumbles back, lips never leaving yours, navigating toward the bedroom like muscle memory. you kick the door shut behind you with your foot, giggling into the kiss.

paige smirks against your lips, her eyes shining with that dangerous glint, the one that always made you weak. she lowers you onto the bed gently but with purpose, her hands already sneaking under your shirt, warm palms exploring your skin like she’s relearning every inch of you.

she kisses down your neck, making you shiver.

“paige…” you whisper, barely audible.

her mouth curls into a smirk against your throat.

she glances up at you with that look, the one that turns your stomach to ash and desire. “bottom drawer?” she mumbles.

you blink, confused for a second.

“the strap, baby. that’s where it is, right?” she says, her voice low, teasing, as she leans over you, her arm brushing across your stomach as she reaches into the nightstand. her fingers wrap around the base like they belong there.

“take your shorts off for me,” she murmurs, sliding her sweatpants down and stepping out of them. she adjusts the harness with quick, practiced fingers, tightening it around her hips.

you swallow, your breath hitching as you push your shorts and underwear down, discarding them onto the floor next to hers.

she looks at you—spread out, chest rising fast, eyes wide with a mix of innocence and aching need.

“god, you’re so fucking pretty, baby,” she mutters, her gaze dragging over your bare skin like it’s art.

her hands slide up your thighs, warm and firm, settling between them. she groans when she feels how wet you are.

“you’re soaked,” she smirks. “knew you’d miss me.”

she rubs your clit slowly at first, watching the way your lips part with a soft sound of pleasure.

“think you can take it, or you need my fingers first?” she whispers, lowering herself to kiss your cheek, her voice gentler now.

“i can take it,” you breathe, nodding, your lashes fluttering.

“yeah?” she teases, positioning herself between your thighs. her hands hook under your legs, holding them up by the backs of your thighs as she slowly starts to push in. you both watch as the strap disappears inside of you.

you tense slightly, gasping at the stretch, and she gives you a second, leaning over to kiss your temple.

then she starts to move—slow at first, letting your body adjust, but it doesn’t take long before she’s picking up the rhythm. her grip on your thighs tightens, and you know she’s marking you up, but you don’t care.

“fuck, paige…” you moan, your hands clutching her shoulders for support, for grounding.

her pace deepens, becomes rougher, more desperate, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room.

“feels good, huh?” she pants, eyes never leaving yours.

you nod quickly, a breathy moan slipping from your lips.

“missed this fuckin’ pussy,” she growls, slamming into you harder, her hand sneaking between your bodies again to rub fast, tight circles on your clit.

your back arches.

“fuck—paige!” you whimper, nails dragging across her back, leaving red trails in your wake.

she groans at the sting, spurred on.

“yeah, take it, baby,” she growls, pace unrelenting. “take that fuckin’ dick. you’ve been craving it, huh?”

you can’t even speak—only breathless whines, your body tightening.

“m’gonna come—” you gasp.

“do it. come for me. make a mess,” she murmurs against your ear, her lips brushing your jaw. “you’re mine, baby. say it.”

“m’yours, paige,” you cry out, voice breaking. “fuck—i’mm coming—”

your whole body tenses, your hands tangled in her hair as waves crash over you, shuddering beneath her. she watches your face the entire time, breathless, entranced.

“yeah…” she whispers, slowing her hips just enough. “that’s it. my fuckin’ girl.”

you collapse back onto the bed, legs still trembling as she finally pulls out and eases herself beside you. the room is thick with heat, with emotion, with everything left unsaid between you.

paige doesn’t say anything at first. she just wraps her arm around your waist, pulling you into her chest like nothing else in the world exists. her hand brushes sweat-slick strands of hair away from your face, her lips pressing to your forehead, then your cheek, then your shoulder.

“you okay?” she murmurs, softer than before. vulnerable.

you nod, snuggling into her warmth. your body still hums from her touch, but it’s the way she’s holding you now—like you’re something fragile and precious—that makes your eyes sting.

she reaches for the blanket at the foot of the bed and drapes it over both of you. her fingers trace lazy patterns on your back, grounding you again.

after a few minutes, she pulls away just far enough to grab a towel from the drawer, cleaning you up gently, like she’s apologizing without words. you stay still, heart thudding as she tucks the towel away, then climbs back into bed and holds you again.

you breathe her in—sweat, lavender detergent, something familiar and dangerous.

neither of you says what this means. neither of you talks about tomorrow. you just lie there, tangled in sheets and silence, her thumb brushing over your hip bone, your heartbeat slowly calming under the weight of her hand on your chest.

you’ll always come back to her.

and she’ll always come back to you.

no matter how toxic.

no matter how broken.

© bueckersworld

𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝘩𝑢𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑟

taglist: @elswhore @private-but-not-a-secret @paigebaby5 @raimund00 @bravemode @d1paigebueckersglazer @evanpeterstoe @zi0nnnn @jadasogay @fuddaround @jaylie-bee @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @mrsarnold

[ghostaholics]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn medic!Reader (same reader from here, but this is a stand-alone) ➸ SUMMARY: You kiss Simon's very minor injuries. And then some. (Or, alternatively: He's not actually wounded. He just wants to see you.) ➸ WARNING(S): some graphic descriptions of old injuries ➸ A/N: Need to preface that this isn't smut despite how the title and summary sound. Anyways, Jo knows I listened to Hozier's Other Voices 2020 version of "Work Song" for a week straight while writing this. ➸ WC: 2k

❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃, ❞ he admits, low-timbered. It feels intimate, especially coming from him. Simon's sitting on the cot; it sags under his weight. He curls his hands over the edge of it as he leans forward. No casualties post-mission means he's got free rein to pick wherever he wants in the medical tent.

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"That I should probably do my best to avoid injuries so I don’t keep pestering you. Can always just tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“You’re gonna break my heart if you stop coming around.

“Mm,” he says in agreement. “Can’t have that can we?”

You nod your head earnestly. “I like your company.”

“Tryin’ to say that you’ll miss me?”

“I would.” More than he knows.

It’s routine now. He gives you just enough room, adjusting his position. You step into the space made between Simon’s splayed knees, his massive legs nearly bracketing yours with how close they are. He’s bigger than you. Well, considerably more mammoth-like in his proportions compared to an overwhelming majority of the soldiers that you’ve encountered, to be quite honest.

Simon acts as though he’s acutely aware of his size. You suspect that he purposefully makes himself smaller in your presence. Like now, how his shoulders are rounded forward, the column of his spine not as straight-arrow in that standard, militaristic posture most servicemen have adopted. As if he doesn’t want to appear too intimidating. Not that Simon could, to you. Hours doing his stitches and idle chitchat on your part have taught you that he’s much less ruthless than people seem to paint him as. But you appreciate the thought anyway.

You conduct the assessment – a typical evaluation normal for combat casualty care, more in-depth than the one you’d done when he initially stopped by and you did a quick once-over for any obvious injuries. Though given the complete vacancy in the medical tent, you find it hard to believe that you’ll come across anything on him since the mission went that smoothly.

The first thing you notice this time: he doesn't smell like spilled blood. It's different. Not that sweet, rusted iron of wet tackiness – the one that reminds you of a generous stack of two pence coins held between a pair of hands cupped together. He comes in that way a lot. Reeks, because war means that he's no stranger to charging through a shower of copper and lead-forged bullets out on the field. Everything else is still there, though. Maybe a dying campfire – crackling logs and blackened earth. Soft dirt excavated from a foxhole for cover while under enemy fire. All gunpowder and Marlboro Lights and diesel-fuel smoke. Fresh rain and a blue-violet sky after a storm. Victory without consequence.

You'd breathe it in if you could, pull the collar of his jacket up to your face. At this proximity, it’d be easy.

He drops the act when he’s in front of you. Lieutenant. Ghost. Battle-hardened, gruff. A natural-born leader. The kind of person to rip this world apart brick by brick – scraped up palms clutching onto broken pieces – to make sure that the plan is executed accordingly, no matter the cost. It’s hard for him to shed that layer. A drop in the bucket of information that you’ve gathered about this man.

You’ve seen him at his best. But you know him at his worst.

The laundry list of injuries over the years: blows to his torso and his back and his limbs that were brighter than technicolor – purples and reds and sickly yellow-green shades – deep, blotchy medals of violence decorating his skin like some kind of fucked-up kaleidoscope that was nothing to be proud of; when some bastard drove a knife right into his upper thigh, that dirty blade wedged through tissue and muscle which was sure as hell going to induce the nastiest infection without serious TLC and a tetanus shot; rib fractures 7-9 because he aborted an exploding heli, seconds to spare before landing on his side wrong from a height that was equivalent to three stories tall; old GSWs dotting his body the same way you’d shove push pins into a paper-flimsy map to mark the places you’ve been to.

And then there’s no contest for the top contender. 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 #𝟏: when he was rushed in on a stretcher, barely clinging to life. Lower abdomen shredded by exploding shrapnel. He was outside of the window of opportunity. Too far beyond that golden hour, so his chances of surviving plummeted to a single-digit percent.

He’s more than just a patchwork of scars. There’s a complex person underneath the surface. A miracle in the flesh to have toughed it out through all of that. Resilient. Perpetual. His callsign makes sense. Ghosts really do live forever.

Several seconds pass before you speak again. It’s a silly comment, teasing – poking fun at him. You don’t have any reservations when it comes to picking on Simon; he’s good about taking these things in stride. Funny, actually. He’s got a dry sense of humor. “I think… you like the idea of someone taking care of you.”

His response isn’t immediate. It’s delayed, said with intention. He doesn’t ever waste words. “Not just anybody.”

You nearly reel back at that. Warmth floods your face. You aren’t quite sure what to say, didn’t expect it. So you let the comment hang in the air between the two of you, busying your hands with slipping off his tac vest, triple-checking for hidden wounds, doing anything to keep yourself occupied while you stand this close to him in the wake of that remark. You’re engrossed in your work, in search of a distraction.

(He’s a distraction, isn’t he?)

And then your eyes stop in their scan. Right there: a small nick on the exposed sliver of skin between his glove and sleeve – open to the direct path of some wayward debris that happened to graze him. So tiny. You’ve seen paper cuts more harrowing than this – wouldn’t have even registered on your radar, especially if it’s being dwarfed by other critical wounds that hold decisive sway over somebody’s fate when it comes to your average life-or-death scenario.

Of course, you take your job very seriously.

You feign a sharp inhale. “Ah,” you say solemnly, guiding his arm up to your face for a closer look. “Found your problem.”

“I’ve got a problem,” he echoes, voice laced with amusement.

“See, you came to the right place. Anybody else would’ve missed it.”

“The verdict, then?”

“So terrible. Earth-shattering, in fact—”

Simon starts pulling away. “Alright, that’s enough of you takin’ the piss outta me,” he gripes.

You chase his arm to recapture it into your grasp. “Wait!” you say, huffing out a laugh. Your mouth sprouts into a wide grin that makes him roll his eyes.

“You gonna treat me or what?”

Your humor bubbles away as you come back to your senses. Those once-loud peals of laughter start to die down when you take his question into consideration. Because there’s really nothing for you to do; he doesn’t need you.

The realization is slow-moving. It washes over you, rolls like waves as you finally begin to sober up.

Simon wants to be here, and he’s looking for any excuse to stay. He just can’t find the courage to own up to it.

“I dunno. Might be unconventional,” you throw out casually, playing along. “Risky, maybe – never been done before.”

But he’s undeterred. “Sure. Whatever you gotta do.”

You pause for a beat, fingers still wrapped around his forearm because you haven’t managed to let go yet. His skin is warm under your palm. You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to do it – emboldened by his encouragement, given complete carte blanche; he’s leaving this to your discretion. So you press your lips to that area where the cut is, right over his pulse point. If you had lingered for longer, you probably would’ve been able to feel it thudding, that solid rhythm and easy strength reminding you he’s alive.

You expected him to withdraw his arm in bewilderment. He should’ve kicked up a fuss about you violating his boundaries, should’ve told you that you overstepped. Something, right?

But he doesn’t do any of that. Simon’s studying you. Dark pupils. So chasm-deep that the ground beneath your feet might slip away. Ocean trenches, midnight-black like the charcoal smudged around his eyes. When they land on you, his gaze goes molasses-soft. He’s fond; there’s little room for doubt. The way he looks at you says everything. None of that usual coldness he harbors during an op. Instead, relaxed and more human than you’re used to seeing – all of his attention focused solely on you.

“Where else, Simon?” you whisper.

He’s thinking – carefully weighing his options – the same expression that he gets when a crossroads lies ahead of him and he knows his make-it-or-break-it decision will invariably affect the outcome of a mission.

After several moments, his hand comes up. Simon’s fingers curl underneath the hem of his mask; he’s been wearing the fabric balaclava more often since you’ve fixed the stitching on it. Then he lifts – not the entire way. Just to reveal the bottom half of his face. There he is. Sandpaper-rough stubble. The sharp cut of his jaw. A mouth that you’re convinced wears a scowl 24/7 behind his mask but is now slightly twitched up.

Even though you’ve seen it before, the sight of him never fails to steal your breath away. Feels like meeting him for the first time again. With how rarely he does this, it might as well be – that slow, heart-melting sensation is steadily filling the cavern of your chest.

And you lean in. Your lips brush against his; it’s a chaste thing – the kiss – if it can be called that. Gentle. Like how you’d stitch up his wounds with a light touch and kind intent. He’s built of sterner stuff, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s capable of breaking just as easily as everyone else. You always handle Simon with care: unequivocal compassion and empathy when there’s so little of those left on this side of war – privileges that he’s never taken for granted.

“Better?” you ask quietly, tipping your head in question.

Simon hums his approval – this pleased, low sound in his throat. His hand slides across your lower back. He tugs you towards him. “Wouldn’t mind some more attention,” he murmurs, before slotting his mouth over yours. And then he kisses you like it might heal him from the outside in.

[claramelooo]

HEYYY! It's me again! I'm so happy with all the support words and the great proportion this story is taking that I got excited and I just want write more and more to you guys!! (I'm vacations btw lol)

First of all, I would like to say that I don't know much about the US admission system, so if I got it wrong, please correct me.

Second, if you have any suggestions to improve the story's progress or speed up my writing, feel free to contact me.

Last but not least: enjoy it and comment plsss <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Paring: Mommy Dom Wanda x Brat Fem reader

WARNING: +18

Summary : Wanda wraps you in the web she has created.

Read here: Prologue | Part 1 – Predator | Part 3 - On your knees

Velvet Chains

The Prey

It was around 3 a.m., and Wanda sighed, staring at the ceiling of the bedroom. The silence was broken only by the lazy whirring of the fan. Vision lay asleep beside her, turned away, breathing deeply. The space between them on the bed felt like an unbridgeable chasm. She turned her head to look at him for a moment but felt a weight in her chest as she realized there was no warmth there, no real connection.

Sex with Vision had always been… functional, almost mechanical. It was always about him—his needs, his desires. There were moments when she tried to convince herself that this was normal, that love was above all a commitment, but nights like this made it clear: something was terribly wrong.

Wanda shut her eyes tightly, trying to push away the frustration building up inside her. It wasn’t just the sex. It was everything. The suffocating predictability, the lack of intensity, the absence of something she had never been able to name but missed with an almost painful ferocity.

And then there was you.

The memory of your face, the way you looked at her during dinner, came rushing back like a storm. Your eyes held a mix of defiance and uncertainty—something Wanda couldn’t get out of her mind. Since seeing you, there had been a growing need inside her, something primal and overwhelming. It wasn’t just desire—though that was undeniable. It was the way you made her feel, as if she were alive for the first time in years.

Wanda sat up in bed, running her hands through her hair, frustrated with herself. It was wrong. That much was obvious. You were young, inexperienced—a delicate soul who deserved freedom, not the weight of the obsession she felt growing inside her.

But the more she tried to rationalize, the more inevitable it seemed. There was something about you—your innocence mixed with a quiet resilience, as if the world couldn’t break you, no matter how hard it tried. It was hypnotic. She wanted to shape you, to dominate your strength and fragility all at once, to explore every nuance of you until there was nothing left to hide.

A shiver ran down her spine, and she pressed her fingers against her temples, trying to stifle the thoughts.

“This has to stop,” she murmured to herself. “This isn’t who I am.”

But the truth was, she wasn’t sure who she was anymore. With Vision, with the life she had built—it all felt so distant, so colorless. And then you appeared, and the entire world gained a new vibrancy, an intensity she hadn’t realized she craved until she felt it.

She looked at Vision again, still turned away, still oblivious to the storm raging beside him. For a moment, Wanda felt a wave of guilt, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. Because the reality was clear: she would never feel whole with Vision.

The clock read 3:23 a.m. when Wanda slipped out of bed, her bare feet meeting the cold floor. She needed space, needed to think, but she knew that every step she took was leading her deeper into dangerous territory—a path of no return.

Reaching the living room, she grabbed a bottle of whiskey—Vision only drank it to celebrate work promotions—and took a swig straight from the bottle, hoping to drown out the chaotic thoughts of you, of Vision, of herself.

But they didn’t go away.

As the alcohol coursed through her veins, Wanda felt her body float. And then, she felt ready to do something she had never done before. With trembling hands from adrenaline and excitement, Wanda picked up her laptop from the coffee table and searched for what had been on her mind since the moment she first laid eyes on you.

The video was artificial, the expressions of pleasure fake, the moans hollow. But the scene itself sparked Wanda’s imagination.

She pictured you moaning beneath her as she slid a good, thick strap inside your tight little pussy, pinning your arms above your head, leaving you completely at her mercy. She imagined slapping your pretty face until you gave in, sticking your tongue out to accommodate her fingers, letting her lubricate them before slowly sliding them into your tight little ass, driving you wild.

Denying you orgasms until you begged her with teary, pleading eyes. Pushing you until you finally said the one word you so desperately needed to say—and that she so desperately needed to hear.

Wanda also fantasized about riding your face, making you drown in her wet pussy, suffocating on her juices. Marking your neck and chest with bruises she would proudly touch the next day.

These thoughts alone were enough to make Wanda forget the adult film on her screen and focus entirely on you. Her fingers worked diligently over her clit, her body trembling as the signs of orgasm built within her. Moments later, she came, her eyes rolling back, her legs shaking.

Oh, fuck. She had to have you soon.

 [...]

The city library was a sanctuary of sacred silence, where whispered voices mingled with the soft rustle of turning pages. You had returned to the country with a single purpose: to study. Your mother never missed a chance to remind you that your bright future hinged on a prestigious university. But after everything, Yale felt like an unattainable dream.

Not anymore.

You still had a chance to transfer and adapt to a new routine—though adjusting had never been hard for you. You’d spent your 18th birthday alone, blowing out the candle on a strawberry cupcake someone had given you, wishing for the power to change your life.

And now, here it was.

Determined, you worked tirelessly to achieve an excellent GPA, nurtured relationships with your professors, and spent the remaining months meticulously preparing your early decision application.

Then came the waiting—waiting and waiting for that damn call. Time passed. You turned 20—too old for a Christian boarding school, too young to face the world—and found yourself staring out of the same window.

When your father finally called, his expressionless voice carried the weight of your shattered dreams.

And now, here you were, standing before an old building with beautiful architecture that probably held some intriguing history. With a pile of notebooks and a battered binder in hand, you pushed open the heavy doors and stepped into the library's main hall. The comforting scent of aged paper and polished wood enveloped you.

The plan was straightforward: find a corner, avoid distractions, and lose yourself in formulas, essays, and reading lists for the next few hours.

But fate, it seemed, had other ideas.

As soon as you entered, your eyes locked onto something—or rather, someone—that made your stomach churn. Behind the lending counter stood Wanda Maximoff.

She wore thin glasses that only accentuated the intensity of her piercing gaze. Her hair was tied back haphazardly, loose strands framing her face. When you walked in, she looked up, and a dangerous spark flashed in her eyes—something intense, hypnotic, and unnervingly expectant.

It was as though she’d known you were coming.

You felt the shift in the atmosphere before you could process it. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction—dangerous, predatory.

"Oh, my, my… What a surprise," Wanda murmured, her voice low and sweet, yet carrying an underlying weight that twisted your stomach. She left her computer and moved toward you, hands clasped in front of her like she owned the place.

You cursed softly.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure, Dekta?” she asked, her accent curling around your name in a way that made your core tighten despite your best efforts.

“I’m here to study.”

“Ah, yes… Yale, isn’t it?” Her lips curved into something between a smirk and a sneer, making your fists clench at your sides. “Your parents mentioned it,” she mused. “I admire ambition—though ambition without focus is a waste, don’t you think?”

Your eyes narrowed. "I have focus."

She took another step closer, her presence suffocating. “Do you now?”

“I’m not a child, Wanda,” you snapped—perhaps a bit too loudly for a space that demanded quiet.

For a brief moment, her pupils expanded, eclipsing the green in her eyes. If you weren’t so innocent, you might have seen the excitement pooling in her gaze. But you felt it—the way your body betrayed you, heat pooling low in your belly, your nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of your bra.

Her expression shifted, the intensity replaced by a false, sugary smile.

“Oh, of course, because you’re such a big girl now, aren’t you?” Wanda tilted her head, her tone deceptively kind but dripping with condescension. Her eyes seemed to dissect you, reading your every reaction like an open book.

“I’m an adult,” you retorted, forcing your voice to remain steady. “I don’t need anyone treating me like I’m still in a school uniform.”

Wanda’s steps were deliberate as she sidled past you, gesturing lazily to a nearby table. “An adult, you say? Funny, because what I see…” Her gaze swept over you and then to the table, “…is a little girl with big dreams, crumbling at the slightest challenge.”

Your entire body tensed. You loathed the way she spoke to you, as though she had the right to dissect your maturity.

“You don’t know me,” you shot back, defensive.

“Don’t I?” She raised an eyebrow, her smile slow and menacing. “Then why are you trembling, Dekta?”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but the words caught in your throat. She was right. Your hands, clutching the binder, were trembling slightly, your heart pounding too fast.

Wanda noticed. Of course, she noticed.

“See?” she whispered, stepping closer, her voice soothing yet laced with control as she reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Adult or not, you still have a lot to learn.” Her words dropped to a murmur, almost too soft to hear: “And I’ll teach you everything.”

Before you could react, Wanda straightened, creating distance as she adjusted her glasses—a deliberate motion that left you inexplicably yearning for her touch again.

“Now, find your table and study. Show me this sharp ambition of yours.”

“You don’t control me,” you snapped, anger flaring briefly.

She chuckled, the sound devoid of warmth. “Oh, Dekta… I don’t have to. You’re already doing exactly what I want.”

With that, she turned and walked back to the counter, leaving you trembling and unsettled, as though you’d just lost a game you didn’t know you were playing.

After 40 minutes of calming down and trying to stop thinking about the woman, you finally manage to focus and regain control of your thoughts. Math had always been something very abstract to you, perhaps even more so than philosophy. There was something about numbers that seemed to elude the logic of your brain, as if every equation were a puzzle with its solution written in a language you couldn't quite comprehend.

You sigh, your eyes fixed on the book's page, where a series of elegantly aligned formulas stared back at you with an almost cruel indifference. It had always been this way. Essays were your forte—your words flowed like a river, structured and persuasive, but numbers? They slipped through your fingers like sand.

With the pencil in your hand, you begin to scribble what seemed to be the first step toward a solution, but your mind soon wavers. Math, with all its precision, left little room for intuition. Every mistake was exposed, every misstep impossible to hide. You had always hated that.

Suddenly, Wanda's presence invades your thoughts again, like a shadow you can't escape. The way she looked at you, as if she knew exactly where your weaknesses lay. Worse, as if she was willing to exploit them.

You shake your head, trying to banish her image, but it’s useless. It’s as if she were still there, standing behind you, watching, waiting for you to fail.

And maybe that was exactly what you needed.

"Okay," you whisper to yourself, turning the page of the notebook with more determination. "This isn't about her. This is about me."

Your strength had always been your ability to adapt and overcome challenges. No matter how impossible something seemed, you had an inner resilience that kept you trying. That was what made you special, even when everything seemed against you.

But that strength came at a price. You were stubborn, almost obsessive, and the idea of failing—for yourself, for your parents, for Wanda—was intolerable. That need to prove your worth, to be good enough, was both a gift and a curse.

Feeling a touch on your shoulder, you jump as if you’d been shocked. Looking at the hand that touched you, it belonged to an elderly woman with a friendly expression on her face.

"Looks like your study session was productive, right?" the lady asked in a voice trembling with age. You simply nodded, still confused by the sudden approach. "But I must inform you, dear. We’re closing now."

"Oh. Yes, of course… I’m sorry," you said as you stood, hastily packing your belongings. "I didn’t even notice the time." You offered an embarrassed explanation.

The lady just laughed, sweetly.

"It's all right! Wanda asked us not to disturb you," she said as if it were nothing, but for you… you felt your pulse quicken with your heartbeat, felt your heart warm at Wanda's indirect gesture.

You looked around, hoping Wanda would appear again to provoke you—to make you surrender to her dominant aura.

But with a click, the library lights turned off, leaving you alone with your confused thoughts.

Letting out a tired sigh, you enter your house. Today had been exhausting, but your mind was at peace from finally breaking out of your loop of procrastination and self-sabotage. It was draining, but it was gratifying—enough to make you proud of yourself.

Arriving in the living room, you see your mother smiling, which makes you raise an eyebrow at her unusual gesture. Noticing you, she stood up, laughing.

"Sweetheart! Come here!" she called, making grand gestures that filled the room.

As you reached the center of the living room, you saw her.

There she was. Wanda Maximoff, sitting in your living room as if she owned the place. Her posture was impeccable—relaxed, but not sloppy. Long legs crossed, her expression composed. She held a teacup in her left hand, her long fingers resting on the porcelain as if it were a luxury item.

Your heart raced. You froze in the doorway, looking from your mother to Wanda and back to your mother.

“Oh, sweetheart, finally!” your mother exclaimed, her voice full of enthusiasm. "I can hardly believe our luck. Wanda offered to help you with your studies! You know how much I worry about your preparation for Yale, and now she's willing to guide you!"

You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. Everything felt like a blur. Wanda? The woman who had just turned your afternoon into an emotional whirlwind? Now she was here, in your house, looking more dangerous than ever?

"I simply did what anyone would," Wanda replied, her voice soft but firm. The tone carried a duality: apparent humility, but a pride you could feel beneath the surface. She rose slowly, placing the teacup on the coffee table. Her gaze met yours, and you felt that same shiver from the library.

"Good evening, Dekta," she said with an intonation that made your skin tingle. “I hope you don’t mind my visit. Your mother and I were discussing how I might be helpful for your academic ambitions.”

“Of course,” you responded automatically, trying to keep your composure. “Thank you so much for your help, Wanda.”

Wanda smiled, a small, calculated smile. There was no genuine warmth in it, only something... satisfying. As if she were celebrating an invisible victory.

"In fact," she continued, taking a step closer to you, "I thought we could make this mutually beneficial. Your studies require dedication, and I noticed you have potential. In exchange for my guidance, perhaps you could help me a few hours a week at the library. There are tasks that require... youthful energy."

Your mother seemed more than thrilled with the idea. “Oh, that would be wonderful, wouldn’t it? You’d spend more time learning, in such an inspiring environment!”

You knew you had no choice. Your mother was already beaming, and any refusal would be a family disaster. But above that, there was Wanda, with that look that seemed to pierce your soul, as if she knew that deep down, you didn’t want to refuse either.

"Sure," you finally replied, trying to sound neutral. “That sounds great.”

Wanda took a small step back, satisfied. "Excellent. We’ll start tomorrow."

Your mother clapped her hands, excited. "I’m so proud of you, sweetheart! And so grateful, Wanda, for being willing to help my baby.”

Hearing your mother’s last words, Wanda’s body tensed, clearly disliking the way she referred to you.

Wanda looked at you again, placing a light smile on her face, but her eyes... they had an almost predatory gleam.

“It will be my pleasure,” she said, but you knew there was much more to that phrase than your mother could understand. "Well, it’s late, and I still need to put Tommy and Billy to bed. S/n, would you walk me to the door?"

Finally, you snapped out of your trance upon hearing your name. "O-of course."

As the older woman passed through the door, she turned to look at you again, her eyes gleaming. “You looked beautiful today, darling.”

The compliment made you blush, and the air felt thin, making it hard to breathe.

“Hmm, what do we say when we’re complimented, Dekta?” Wanda broke your trance once again, touching your chin in a firm grip, forcing you to look at her.

"Thank you, Wanda," you replied softly, in an almost submissive tone. Almost. The exhaustion of the day weighed on your shoulders, and Wanda’s sweet voice left you weak, hypnotizing you and slowly turning you into a needy kitten.

"Good girl." She caressed your face with her fingertips, almost as if you were a raw diamond—precious and ready to be shaped. By her. By her hands.

You hadn’t noticed—perhaps due to exhaustion—but Wanda's hands were trembling. The woman trembled as she touched you, as she felt the warmth emanating from your fragrant, untouched skin. Wanda felt blessed, as if finally that scared kitten was learning to trust her.

"We’ll see each other tomorrow, yes? Good night, beautiful girl." She didn’t want to say goodbye to you. She wanted to stay, make you kneel, rest your head on her lap, and stroke the top of your head to hear you purr.

The mark she left on you lingered until you fell asleep, embedding itself under your skin, making you dream of her, of her floral scent—it was something citrusy. Orange? Lemongrass, perhaps? The fragrance clung to your body, your mind, and suddenly, Yale seemed like a distant dream, and Wanda was the only thing you could dream about.

~*~

Poor S/n... A milf caught her.

Tag list <3

@rosekjsses @vyvvycg @3liyuh

If I forget someone, pls remind me in the comments!

[nikoco11]

wavin at you. so question: how’d you get so good at drawing bodies? i’m pretty decent at them but you can draw bodies from just so many angles and in so many perspectives and that’s always hard from me. do you use references? how do you break the body down to be able to do those perspectives so well?

waving back at u hello!! tagging in ur other questions here so i can knock out as much as i can at once ^_^

i use lots of references! i used to use them by drawing over the silhouettes of poses i found on pinterest.

i don’t have any easy tricks or shortcuts to proportions unfortunately :’D i picked it up from observation just by doing this for so long.

it’s a fun way to learn, but can be restraining in terms of stiffness and also making u really dependent on seeing a reference before u can think of how to draw a certain pose.

now, i focus on what lines a body follows rather than the silhouette. i try to keep every section of the body to no more than 1-3 lines when first sketching.

doesn’t matter if the lines are accurate, just be bold w them!!!!!

this is a lot easier to me than breaking the body down into shapes, and it keeps everything more fluid.

it’s on these lines where i choose to exaggerate as well!!!

my fav exaggerations to do are flipping between curve/straight/curve/straight.

for example: on the left leg, i made the curve of the calf more pronounced while stiffening the straight line of the shin.

or on the skirt, i simplified the edges to single straight lines and the hem to one long curve :D

this comes back to my 1-3 lines habit, where i try to simplify everything as much as i can, but also it comes down simply to observation and practice…..which is unfortunately the worst answer ever but it’s true LOL my sketchbooks are packed right now, but i have many many pages of completely fucking up and drawing a leg one thousand times too long. the best thing to do is to draw quickly and boldly, even if it’s wrong 100 times, than to sit down and take forever trying to get it correct on the first try.

pen and marker sketching will force u to do this LOL. it helps to find pens and markers that are fun to use, especially for scribbling, bc then u will look forward to drawing more even if it turns out bad!!!

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° the real thing

( yukimiya kenyu x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — yuki just screams childhood friends to lovers, and no, i don't apologize.

♡ word count — 725

♡ content — yukimiya kenyu x fem! reader, childhood best friends, friends to lovers (very light mention of it), overthinking! reader, lowkey reader starts a fight just to fight, yeah not much here

♡ synopsis — You and Yukimiya Kenyu were two different sides of a coin- one constantly worried and the other as calm and cool-headed as could be. You just weren't sure how much longer he could handle you.

── .✦ this town is fake, but you're the real thing

You always knew you had a tendency to spiral.

A single look, a pause too long, a shift in tone—you turned moments into monsters in your mind.

Yukimiya never faulted you for it. 

He never rolled his eyes. 

Never told you to “just stop.” 

Instead, he was the eye in the center of your hurricane.

But tonight, you feel like you might have pushed him too far.

It started with something small. It always does.

He was quiet after his match. That’s it. Quiet. Not cold. Not cruel. Just quiet.

But your thoughts—traitorous, loud, unforgiving—took that silence and spun it into something sharp. 

Something damning.

You’re pacing now, in his apartment, arms crossed tight over your chest. He’s just watching you from the couch, jacket half-off, his phone still in his hand. He hasn’t even changed out of his kit.

“I get it, you know,” you say suddenly, not looking at him. “You don’t have to say it.”

Yukimiya blinks. “Say what?”

“That you're tired of this. Of me. That you’ve outgrown… whatever this is between us.” Your voice breaks slightly, but you keep going.

“That Blue Lock changed you. That you’ve changed. And maybe you’re just—maybe you’re just realizing I haven’t.”

He says nothing.

“And I know I talk too much when I’m anxious, and I know I blow things out of proportion, and maybe you're just sick of it. Of me always assuming the worst and needing so much reassurance and—”

“Hey-” His voice is calm, even, like a thread pulling you back from unraveling.

You ignore it.

“—and I mean, look at you now. You’re a literal pro. You’ve got fans, a spotlight, a future. You’re not that same boy I used to sneak into movie theaters with or help with homework or sit next to on swingsets at night talking about dumb dreams—”

“Love-”

“—and I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore. I don’t know how to keep up with the version of you that the world wants, and maybe you’re just realizing that the version of me you thought you loved is someone you’ve already outgrown and—”

He crosses the room in three strides and kisses you.

It’s not rushed, not desperate. It’s the kind of kiss that says, you’re safe here.

Warm hands cupping your face, his breath slow and steady as if reminding you to match it.

You don’t even realize you’ve gone still until you feel him smile against your lips. That stupid perfect smile you’ve known since you were kids—the one that always appeared when you were being especially dramatic. The one he’d give you right before saying something that would make your heart hurt in the best way.

“You done?” he whispers, brushing his thumb under your eye where tears had started to gather.

You sniff, cheeks hot. “Maybe.”

He pulls back just far enough to look at you properly. God, his eyes. Deep and gentle and unwavering.

“I didn’t talk after the match because I was tired. Not because I was mad. And not because I don’t love you.” He leans his forehead against yours.

“I’ve been yours since I was fifteen, and I still am. Blue Lock didn’t change that. Nothing will.”

You close your eyes, chest tight with everything he’s not making you say.

“I know I overthink,” you murmur.

“You do,” he agrees softly.

“I jump to conclusions.”

“Like it’s your superpower,” he says, teasing, but fond.

“But I’m scared of losing you.”

“You won’t.”

You open your eyes, and he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

And maybe to him, you are.

He kisses you again, slower this time, like he’s sealing a promise.

“You're the only home I’ve ever had,” he says, pulling you into his arms. “You think I’d leave that behind?”

You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne and sweat and something uniquely him.

The storm in your chest finally starts to quiet.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“I’m not,” he replies, pressing a kiss into your hair. “Because now I get to remind you all over again how much I love you.”

And he does—again and again, in soft kisses and sweet words, until even your loudest thoughts go silent.

Because Yukimiya Kenyu doesn’t just calm the storm. 

He stays. 

Always.

little drabble so i can pump out my wips :)

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

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⋆.˚✮ 2025 ©airybcby ✮˚.⋆

[melshifting]

THE ULTIMATE SPORTS & HOBBIES SCRIPTING PACK ꒰ 01 ꒱ .☘︎ ݁˖

❝ It’s not even fair how good they are at everything.❞

— VOLLEYBALL

♫ ㆍ Your inner clock adjusts to match the rhythm of every match—so you never mistime a jump, hit too early, or react too slow.

♫ ㆍ Your arms and hands never sting or swell after a hard dig or block, no matter how intense the play.

♫ ㆍ No matter the lighting or gym, your depth perception stays crystal clear.

♫ ㆍ You can instantly spot weak points in any team’s formation after one rotation.

♫ ㆍ Your intuition about out balls is always right. No hesitation when letting a deep shot go—you just know when not to touch it.

♫ ㆍ You’re naturally synced with your setter—even if you’ve never played together, you feel their rhythm instantly.

♫ ㆍ Your serves are never accidentally out—you’re free to risk jump serves, floaters, or short serves.

♫ ㆍ Tape never peels, pads never slip; everything you put on stays in place without needing constant adjustments.

— DRAWING/PAINTING

♫ ㆍ Even at the most detailed and intricate strokes, your hand maintains perfect precision, removing the need for rulers or corrections.

♫ ㆍ Your brushes never wear out or fray, they always stay in perfect condition.

♫ ㆍ Without trial and error, you mix your paints knowing instinctively the exact color combination to achieve any shade.

♫ ㆍ You can draw or paint in complete darkness—your muscular memory and spatial awareness allow you to create impeccable pieces.

♫ ㆍ You have an intuitive understanding of anatomy and proportions. Everything and anything looks realistic and dynamic, regardless of perspective.

♫ ㆍ When something doesn't look right, your eye immediately identifies the problem, and you know how to correct it without starting from scratch.

♫ ㆍ References appear in your mind like flashcards—if you’ve seen it once you can mentally flip back to it when sketching.

♫ ㆍ You’re not sure why, but your favorite pen seems to stretch for extra pages, your paint tubes never dry out, and your erasers don’t crumble.

— ICE SKATING

♫ ㆍ Your blades never need sharpening—they’re always at their optimal state.

♫ ㆍ Even on cold trails, you maintain flexibility and warmth, eliminating the risk of stiffness or injury.

♫ ㆍ You never forget your choreography mid-routine—your muscles narrate the performance before your brain even finishes thinking.

♫ ㆍ Your spins are always perfectly centered—your balance is so impeccable that your spins look flawless.

♫ ㆍ Even the most intricate routines are fixed in your mind after seeing them just once.

♫ ㆍ Your body mechanics are so finely tuned that high-difficulty steps become your signature moves.

♫ ㆍ After you fall, your clothes never get soaked or uncomfortable. You bounce up, and it’s like nothing touched you.

♫ ㆍ Your costume/outfit never tears, rides up, or itches.

— WRITING

♫ ㆍ Every time you reread your work, the mistakes or awkward parts stand out just enough to catch, but not enough to make you spiral.

♫ ㆍ You never forget that one specific word you’re looking for, it bubbles up exactly when you need it.

♫ ㆍ You're so good at describing a feeling or detail, that readers often say “I’ve never seen it written like that before” because it’s deeply accurate.

♫ ㆍ You never lose the initial feeling that made you want to write something in the first place.

♫ ㆍ You keep what matters without over-polishing—you know which edits would please a reader and which would dilute your voice.

♫ ㆍ Your notebooks/docs never lose structure, even if you’re jumping between ideas.

♫ ㆍ When you need inspiration, you always “randomly” stumble upon the right book, show, or quote.

♫ ㆍ Your back never hurts from long writing sessions; you shift naturally and stretch intuitively between sessions.

[hameesstuff]

"Perfect frame shattered"

Preview: "They were expecting a baby. Then came the fight. Now Jaehyun is racing against time, chasing taillights and prayers."

Warnings: Arguments, emotional angst, reader dies, just sad in general.

Word count: ~2.1k

___________________________________________

The Argument

The night started like any other—a quiet dinner at home, the soft glow of the overhead lights casting shadows on the walls. Jaehyun had just finished talking about his day at work when the conversation took a turn.

It wasn’t anything dramatic at first, just a little misunderstanding between them. But as the words exchanged, a tension that had been simmering beneath the surface finally broke through.

“You never listen to me!” [Y/N] snapped, her voice shaky with frustration. “I’m not asking for much, Jaehyun. I just want to feel like I matter too.”

Jaehyun felt his chest tighten, irritation bubbling up. He had just spent a long day at the office, and now she was throwing accusations at him. His patience was running thin.

“I listen, [Y/N],” he replied, his voice controlled, but his eyes narrowed. “I listen to everything you say. But sometimes, you're too emotional. You blow things out of proportion.”

Her face flushed with anger, and she stood up abruptly, pushing her chair back with a loud screech. “I’m emotional? Oh, so now it’s my fault? Always my fault, Jaehyun, isn’t it?”

Jaehyun stood as well, trying to calm the situation, but the words kept coming. “I didn’t say it was your fault. I just—”

“Just what?” she interjected, her voice rising. “I’ve been trying so hard, trying to balance everything. But it’s never good enough for you, is it?”

Jaehyun felt the sting of her words, but instead of taking a breath, he fired back. “You never stop. You’re always angry at me for things I can’t even control. Maybe you should take a look at yourself before pointing fingers.”

Her expression shifted, her hurt evident in the way her eyes welled up with unshed tears. She was eight months pregnant, her body tired and aching, but the fight in her never faltered. “You don’t understand, Jaehyun. You never understand.”

“I understand more than you think,” he retorted, voice rising. “I’m doing the best I can. Maybe if you were more patient—”

“Patient?!” she cried, her breath coming faster now, as her voice broke. “I’ve been patient with you for so long, Jaehyun. I’ve been patient with your work, your coldness. But I can’t do it anymore. I can’t.”

With a final look of frustration, she stormed towards the door, grabbing her coat and throwing it on quickly. “I’m leaving. I can’t stand being here right now.”

Jaehyun’s words caught in his throat as she grabbed the keys to her car. “You can’t just walk out on me!”

But she didn’t respond. She only stepped outside, the door slamming behind her with finality.

The Panic

Jaehyun stood frozen in the middle of their living room, his heart racing, his mind spinning with a mix of anger and regret. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. But he had. And now, she was gone.

His chest tightened as the silence in the house grew deafening. He should have stopped her, should have held her, should have said the words she needed to hear. But he had been too proud, too angry to admit his mistakes.

His hand hovered over his phone, but instead of calling her, he grabbed his jacket and rushed out the door. He needed to make things right. He had to.

The cold night air hit him like a slap in the face as he stepped outside, the headlights of her car illuminating the empty street. His heart hammered in his chest, and panic surged through him as he looked around.

He couldn’t let her leave like this. Not now. Not when they were so close to the life they had planned together.

The Chase

Jaehyun’s car roared to life as he sped down the streets, his heart racing faster than the wheels beneath him. He kept dialing her number, praying she would pick up, but it went straight to voicemail every time.

His grip tightened on the wheel, his thoughts consumed by her face—the hurt in her eyes, the way she had walked out without even a second glance. He should have apologized. He should have just told her how much he loved her.

But now, it felt like it was too late.

As he rounded a corner, his headlights caught a glimpse of her car further down the road. His chest surged with relief, but the feeling was fleeting.

She wasn’t pulling over.

“[Y/N]!” he shouted, his voice breaking. He slammed the accelerator harder, the engine roaring as he pushed the car to its limit. He had to catch up. He had to make sure she was okay.

His heart beat in his throat as he drew closer to her, but then, in an instant, her car veered sharply off the road. The tires screeched as the car spun out of control, and Jaehyun’s stomach dropped into his gut.

“No!” He slammed his foot on the brake, but the car wasn’t stopping fast enough. He jerked the wheel to the side, trying to avoid a collision, but the road was slick, and everything happened too fast.

Jaehyun’s pulse pounded in his ears as he brought the car to a stop, the tires skidding against the asphalt. He was out of the car before it even fully stopped, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His heart was pounding in his throat as he rushed toward her car, fear and dread choking him.

He reached her vehicle in seconds, his hands shaking as he tried the door, but it was jammed. He shoved harder, adrenaline pushing him to act.

“[Y/N]!” He screamed her name again, his voice raw with panic. “Please, baby, please be okay.”

Finally, the door swung open, and his eyes locked onto her limp body inside. His blood ran cold.

[Y/N] was unconscious, her head resting against the seat, her face pale and streaked with blood.

“Oh my God,” Jaehyun whispered, his voice barely audible. “No, no, no… Please, wake up. Please.”

His heart thundered in his chest as he tried to pull her from the wreckage, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he gently cradled her in his arms.

“Please,” he begged, tears spilling from his eyes. “Please don’t leave me.”

Her eyelids fluttered briefly, and for a moment, Jaehyun thought she was waking up. His heart surged with hope, but then it faltered.

[Y/N]’s hand fell limply from his grasp.

His world came crashing down.

“No… no…” Jaehyun choked out, his voice breaking. “Please, no.”

He shook her desperately, but she didn’t respond. She didn’t move. He pressed his fingers to her neck, but there was no pulse.

His entire body went numb as the reality of the situation hit him like a freight train.

He was too late.

The woman he loved, the mother of his child—gone.

The Screams

Jaehyun’s world spun wildly as he dropped to his knees, his hands trembling as he held her against him, feeling the coldness seep into his bones.

“No! NO!” He screamed, his voice raw and full of agony. “You can’t be gone! You can’t be! I—”

His throat closed, his words strangled by grief. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

The distant sound of sirens grew louder, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He had lost her. And no matter how hard he screamed, no matter how much he begged, there was no bringing her back.

He ran his hands through his hair, disoriented, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He couldn’t fathom what had just happened. How had it come to this? Why had he let her leave?

The flashing red and blue lights finally filled the space, and officers rushed toward him, trying to pry him away from her. But Jaehyun couldn’t move. He wouldn’t. His whole body felt like it was breaking down, like he was falling apart from the inside out.

“Sir, you need to move,” one of the officers said, but Jaehyun shoved him away, his eyes wild with panic.

“No! Don’t touch me!” Jaehyun screamed, his voice raw, hoarse. He looked down at her one last time, his heart breaking as he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please… don’t leave me.”

But she was gone.

The Heartbreak

Jaehyun sat alone, the world around him spinning, his mind unable to grasp the gravity of the situation. His legs were numb as he stared down at the blood-stained pavement. He could still feel the weight of [Y/N] in his arms, the coldness of her body, the lifelessness that now filled the space where she used to be.

But it wasn’t just her that he had lost. His heart ached with the hollow knowledge that their child—his little girl—was gone too. The dream they had of raising her together, of seeing her grow, of feeling her tiny hands grasping his finger… it was all ripped away in an instant.

The officers spoke to him, but his mind couldn’t focus on their words. Everything sounded distant, as if he were underwater, the world muted by his grief.

He wiped his face with his hands, trying to pull himself together, but there was no strength left in him. The pain of losing her—and their baby—was a raw wound that would never heal.

The flashing lights around him grew dimmer, the world around him closing in as he collapsed on the ground, tears streaming down his face.

He had lost her. And now he was left with nothing but the deafening silence of their home. The crib that would never be rocked. The fresh clothes for the baby she fought over. The leftover cravings in the fridge. All of it. Over.

The silence that echoed her absence.

The silence of a future he would never get to have.

The End.

(Sorry if I made you cry-)

[flwrxiao]

please, kiss my neck! ✩ afab!xiao x gn!reader ↳ fingering, overstim, super sensitive xiao, dom!reader

here he was, the mighty conqueror of demons, coming undone in your arms. 

"too much?" you whispered.

you were practically speaking right into his skin— your breath gently fanned against him as you affirmed his consent to your actions. gasping for breath, xiao lazily shook his head side to side. his body, perfectly proportioned and beautifully chiseled, glistened with beads of sweat. xiao was exhausted from nothing more than your fingers roaming freely all over him— obviously a huge confidence boost on your part.

you traced a fingertip over xiao's tattooed arm, re-drawing the sacred designs that adorned his bicep. he curled his fingers around your hands as you explored his body, squeezing your palms every so often. you could genuinely feel the love between yourself and the adeptus, even though all you were focused on at the moment was pleasuring him. 

you leaned down to kiss him, the pure aroma of need lingering on his plush lips. your gentle kisses trailed down from his face to his neck, his collarbone, and finally his arm, demonstrating special affection towards his sainted tattoo. 

"beautiful," you breathed. 

his face flushed a lovely shade of pale pink. it looked good on him, you thought. xiao wrapped his arms around your neck, pulling you closer to him. your gaze trailed down to his perfectly chiseled stomach, enough to tempt anyone to simply devour with kisses. 

you couldn't help but notice the tears of obvious desperation forming in his golden eyes. his breathing was ragged and heavy, his pulse racing in his wrists. xiao let out the tiniest whine�� not one of annoyance, but one of need, want, desire. he desired you. 

while he was currently sitting on his knees facing you, his intimacy was mostly concealed, even with his body completely bare. 

"can i?" you asked again, not wanting to unintentionally cross any boundaries. 

xiao couldn't sate himself any longer, so it appeared. he needed you. he leaned back, pulling you down with him. with no time to marvel at his strength, you instinctively cradled his head with one hand, cupping his face with the other. 

"please..."

xiao pulled at your fingers, guiding them upwards towards his chest. he writhed under your touch. with every painfully gentle graze of your fingers against his bare lily-white skin; every stroke, every twist, xiao's sensitive figure convulsed in the most satisfying way. you caressed his shivering body with a knuckle, pulling that sweet symphony of soft gasps and sighs from his lips. 

"xiao..." you whispered, admiring the beautiful yaksha beneath you. 

he whimpered, his bottom lip quivering as if he were about to spontaneously burst into tears.

"again... please, say it again..." he begged, his words languid and slurred with pleasure. 

you pulled him closer to you, gently wiping the tears from his bottomless topaz eyes.

"xiao," you repeated, earning a sigh of relief from him. 

he bent his porcelain-pale legs up to his chest, looking away.

"is this okay?" you asked, afraid of making him uncomfortable. 

"go... mm... go ahead," he mumbled.

lacing your left hand with his, you gently started rubbing at the most intimate part of him. xiao's body was warm, his pale, slick folds inviting. glancing at him every so often to make sure he was comfortable, you slowly began to insert a finger into him. he squirmed, trying to adjust to the feeling as quickly as possible.

once you were satisfied that he was okay, you added another finger, admiring the way his eyes rolled back ever so slightly, how his mouth fell open in a sigh. just with two of your fingers, you could tell xiao's mind overflowed with pleasure; for once in his life he could forget about his debts and instead, just live. 

you curled your fingers inside him, drawing that divine chorus of ah... ah... ah, from his throat; enough to drive anyone to madness. 

xiao was everything. nothing else mattered in that moment between you. here you were, pleasuring the geo archon's strongest warrior. 

and he fucking loved it. 

you kept a steady pace with your fingers, being careful not to hurt him, but at the same time giving him enough stimulation to feel good. it was only when he started whining and whimpering that you were confident he'd finished. 

you carefully pulled your fingers out of him, coated in a thick, shimmery coat of his release. spreading your fingers apart, you coax one between his pouting lips, letting him taste himself before kissing him hard. he sucks your tongue, pulling you in closer, and you gently bite his lip as you pull away.

his breaths were still heavy, and he was still sweating, but he instinctively shifted away from you and sat up straight, hoping you wouldn't notice his body still trembling. 

"so beautiful," you praised him, stroking his hands. 

"how dare you... i am an adeptus, a...and you should treat me with the utmost respect," he muttered sarcastically, his eyelids fluttering.

crimson was a gorgeous colour on xiao's face.  you just had to find a way to get him blushing again.

© 2025 flwrxiao → don't copy, translate or repost dividers: @/cafekitsune

[luvr444writes]

Nicholas Chavez dating hc's

Nicholas Chavez x Fem!reader

Bf!Nicholas Chavez who... keeps you up all night talking about anything and everything. He's more vulnerable at night, telling you anything that's been plaguing his mind recently. Or even just talking about your future together.

Bf!Nicholas Chavez who... is a true gentleman. Always holds doors for you, refuses to let you get out of or into the car until he opens your door for you, offers you his jacket when you're cold, etc.

Bf!Nicholas Chavez who's... love language is touch and gift giving. He's always holding your hand and rubbing your knuckles softly with his thumb, hand on your hip, rubbing the small of your back, etc. He also constantly comes home with little gifts, your favorite flowers, candy, drink, a new book you've been talking about wanting. It's the little things.

Bf!Nicholas Chavez who... is unable to stand the thought of losing you. It doesn't matter whether you were in the wrong or if he was because he will always apologize first, he can't stand the silence between the both of you or the way you suddenly seem uncomfortable or tense around him. He always tries his hardest to not let little things blow out of proportion.

Bf!Nicholas Chavez who... has a soft side for you. Sure, in interviews he seems almost cold, broody, blunt, etc. But with you he shows a side that most others don't get to see. When he truly cares about someone, he's thoughtful and nurturing. He's always there when you need him, When you’re upset, he might not know exactly what to say, but he’ll be there with comforting silence or a touch that says more than words ever could.

Bf!Nicholas Chavez who... likes to surprise you with different dates. He’s not the type to just plan a dinner date and call it a night. Maybe a late night picnic under the stars, a surprise trip to a place you’ve always wanted to visit, or even just an unexpected road trip to a random, but exciting, destination. No matter how many times you try, you can never guess what he's planned for you next.

Bf!Nicholas Chavez who... notices the small things about you. Whether it’s remembering your favorite coffee order or noticing when you’re feeling off, he’d find subtle ways to make you feel cared for. Maybe he’s not always the most overt in showing affection, but his thoughtfulness speaks volumes.

Bf!Nicholas Chavez who... gets jealous. No, not in a toxic, possessive way. But he truly wants to spend the rest of his life with you and he can't help but get a little insecure or jealous when he notices other guys trying to steal your attention away when you're out in public together.

Bf!Nicholas Chavez who... has a soft spot for little kids. While he might not outwardly express it, Nicholas would probably have a soft spot for kids or even animals. Whether it’s showing affection toward a younger sibling or cousin, he always gets a certain look in his eyes and a playful side of him comes out when he's around them. He may even bring up having kids of your own one day...

Bf!Nicholas Chavez who... is your biggest cheerleader when it comes to your successes, no matter how big or small. If you accomplish something, he’d be genuinely excited and proud of you, making sure you know that he believes in you. He’d go out of his way to show how happy he is for you, constantly bragging about how his "girlfriend did ____ and ____".

Bf!Nicholas Chavez who... loves to make you laugh. While he has a very composed and nonchalant facade he puts up around others, he’d definitely enjoy teasing you in a lighthearted way. He’d find joy in making you laugh, whether it’s poking fun at something silly you’ve said or playfully challenging you on something you’re passionate about. His teasing would always come from a place of affection and fun, though—never to hurt your feelings (and if he did hurt your feelings he would immediately apologize and comfort you if you were that upset about it).

Sorry if this is short and not that good!

ayyy first post tho!!! 😛

[thepeaklegendoffirstgen]

I don’t know if it’s just me, but the whole “Gojo won’t be faithful to any woman” thing gets blown way out of proportion, mostly because the context is missing.

Let’s be honest: Japanese is full of nuance and subtlety, and translations often fail to capture that. A lot is left unsaid between the lines. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I remember reading somewhere that the original line was more about how Gojo can’t give his all in a romantic relationship, not that he wouldn’t be faithful.

Because the truth is, Gojo is the kind of person who gives everything, his heart, mind, and soul, once he commits to something. That’s just who he is.

So, all this chest-thumping about Gojo being a cheater or a playboy? I genuinely don’t see that at all.

If, and this is a big if, he ever had a lover, best believe he’d be loyal as hell. He wouldn't even look at anyone else. He would give his entire being to that person, no half-measures. His heart is huge, and he has so much love to give. Even with the people around him, friends, students, and even acquaintance, he’s poured his love out in his own chaotic, sometimes frustrating way. Sure, he’s been a pain to some (and definitely caused more than a few migraines), but honestly? Annoyance is his love language😭😭 This brat.

That’s why it doesn’t sit right with me when people say he’d be a cheater or an unfaithful partner. Everything about him points to the exact opposite. The fact that he’d even try to be in a romantic relationship says a lot about the depth of trust he’d place in that person. He’d guard that bond like a sacred little bubble, keeping it separate from the harshness of his world, because if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t even entertain the idea.

And let’s not forget, his life is insanely packed. His schedule barely allows time to breathe, let alone nurture a relationship. So if he were to let someone into that life, it would mean they truly, truly matter.

That’s why, when you look at that infamous line in context, it’s clear: it’s not that he won’t be with someone, it’s that he can’t allow himself to, because he doesn’t want to hurt them.

And that’s just so heartbreaking😭😭😭😭

I don’t know why I suddenly remembered all this out of the blue, but wow, it really hit me

MISSING GOJO HOURS😭😭

[jensettermandu]

fish that drown - huh yunjin

content; smut, slight angst, fluff (kind of), a little plot

pairing; g!p yunjin x female reader

content; implications of an unhealthy relationship, praising, blowjob, p in v :D, slightly rough (?), a slight size thing (Y/n being/having smaller proportions than yunjin??), bulging, Y/n calls her Jen, small age gap (y/n is younger by two years), probably everything

synopsis; together it feels like drowning in the best way possible because anything above the surface feels too cold for them despite it burning whenever they drown together. each time they give each other another chance as they find back to each other with nothing but love forgetting everything that made them leave to begin with.

wc; 7k+

masterlist

Each second was tantalising, it was filled with dim colours seeping through the smogged window with raindrops holding the lights of the outside in them. Each breath was a promise of another second to live and chances for more empty promises. The promise of breaking habits to make it work despite them being routines that stayed forever. It was the comfort of now rather than the worries of tomorrow, knowing it would be a cycle forever. 

Arms securely wrapped around Y/n as they lay together as if they had a forever together. As if they would grow old together and love each other through thick and thin, but they had always been walking a thin line between love and hate. 

It was the problem of falling for each other’s flowers, but never taking time to get to know the roots. It got difficult to figure out what to do when fall came and everything crumbled, the petals falling and blowing away with the wind, all that was left was a promise of coming back by spring. 

“Yunjin, I seriously have to go.” She tried because despite them being securely wrapped around her, it didn’t mean that they were home. Certain places would just never feel like a home no matter how much of a home they were. It could be their natural habitat, but they would always be prey and that made it difficult to feel at home. It was still hard to let go especially when the place appealed so much to one and they wished for it to be theirs only.

Was spring close?

“Stay, I want you to stay, Y/n–” Yunjin sighed, her fingers brushing over the younger girl’s spine as she turned over to reach to the floor for her clothes. Her palm smoothed over Y/n’s waist and like painting someone with scorching metal she slid it over to her stomach, leaving her every touch to linger forever on Y/n’s body. It was like empty canvases and when they met they became the artwork that was only visible through their eyes. “We can go out in the morning and talk.” She suggested and the feline in her arms exhaled as she got pulled back into her. 

Y/n’s body was dwelling in the fire, every part of her was enjoying it, her heart was beating heavily because the feelings Yunjin made her feel were heavy from how much she felt with the ginger. Her brain was the only rational thing at the moment, but rationality was a curse when they were together and jumping head-first into the unknown waters was more thrilling than dipping toes to test them. The best thing about it was the lily pads that looked pretty on the surface but were more beautiful from under the water when they tangled around their limbs and dragged them down further with no chance of escape. 

Spring had come and Y/n knew that she wasn’t leaving and neither was Yunjin.

“My members’ are going to strangle me if I am not back at the dorm tonight.” She mumbled, opening her phone to see that she had already received texts wondering when she would be back. It wasn’t the going out that was the problem, it was the limbs she got tangled in that were and they were either fed up or they cared too much to continue watching their friends drown. A mix of both perhaps. 

Neither of the two could help it. They just knew the second that they met that they would fall in love with each other shortly and they did. 

The colours from above the water looked so much prettier from under the surface where they drowned in each other. 

“Tell them you’re staying over then.” 

That only meant that they were set in stone that had grown moss, scraping it away to reveal their names together again.

Y/n stared at her phone while Yunjin’s hand ran over her stomach, caressing the soft and smooth skin that was warm. The redhead's lips slowly started to trail kisses along her shoulder while grabbing hold of Y/n’s waist, pulling the girl closer to her because no amount of closeness was ever enough. 

“They will kill me if I do that–” Y/n was interrupted by her phone that started to buzz as she was receiving a call. It made Yunjin glance up at the phone screen while propping herself up on her arm beside Y/n’s head. The girl declined the call with Yunjin going right back to engraving herself on her skin with delicate kisses that were like the flapping of a butterfly's wings as she kissed up to the girl’s neck. 

Y/n declined the call once again because she would have difficulty deciding if she should tell the truth or lie to Jimin. She was quite sure her members would give her an earful after watching her cry for the past two months. 

They told Y/n to forget about Yunjin and everything she did and to move on. 

Y/n did and so she ended up right back with Yunjin after forgetting why she left to begin with as she had moved on from the bad. 

They both forgot why they left and only saw the good and it was enough to get back in the waters together. 

0:22

jimin> answer

0:22

> what is it?

0:23

jimin> answer the call

0:24

> why??

0:24

jimin> because i told you to answer?

Y/n glanced away from the phone and at their reflections in the big glass windows where water was trickling down, illuminating the city lights with the sky shedding tears. It was cold outside which made it so much more difficult to leave when she was drowning in Yunjin’s warmth. Each breath was filled with the scent that filled their lungs, it was like falling, but not through the sky, there was no pressure in the fall. It was like slowly drowning. 

It was agonisingly gratifying to be with each other.

Her fingers tangled in the red hair as Yunjin wrapped her arm around Y/n’s waist, holding her against her body. The older let out a humid hum that painted Y/n’s skin with goosebumps before she pushed her face into the crook of her neck, her kisses wet and languid. 

The feline eyes left the window where she had watched the two bodies slowly get prepared for the dance that took two again, knowing that neither was leaving. She looked at her phone when it started to vibrate in her hold again.

“You can just tell the truth and we won’t have to run around hiding.” She couldn’t help but whisper and put her thoughts in Y/n’s head. 

It made Y/n sigh as she knew that it would be better to just say the truth. She’s been seeing Yunjin again after yet another break-up that was supposed to be the final goodbye. It felt impossible to say goodbyes when all they did was end up together the next time they ran into each other or thought too much of the other. The past two weeks had been spent hiding from their members, sneaking to restaurants, on dates, and to hotels after and now Yunjin had gotten Y/n into her group dorm. 

They hadn’t been home and when they did get there no one bothered checking who exactly Yunjin brought over. Y/n hadn’t thought far enough to think about how she would leave, but probably early at dawn. 

How long could they hide their spring from everyone else?

“Do you genuinely think that’s a good idea?” 

“No.” 

Y/n hummed and answered the phone call at last.

There was no way to emancipate from this because love made them willing slaves. 

“It’s late and you just left hours ago without a word. Where are you?”

Y/n knew that she never usually left without a word, but she didn’t know what lies to tell anymore. It felt unfair to both of them, but the girl was scared of receiving disappointed looks from her friends who had been there for her after she had cried herself to sleep every night. Y/n felt horrible for shedding so many tears, putting them under her gloomy cloud only to end up with the cause of it again.

“I'm not with Yunjin.” 

Somehow she felt the need to defend herself because she didn’t want to think to herself that she was with the girl again. It had been on and off for three years and at some point it had to be enough, didn’t it? It wasn’t time for it yet though. Their love had yet to die. 

“I didn’t think you would be either.”

“Why not?” 

She frowned somewhere between relieved and disappointed that Jimin didn’t think that she was with her ex-girlfriend. Perhaps the hurt of thinking that she had moved on and would see someone else just like Yunjin. She wasn’t ready to see someone else, she was even less ready to see Yunjin with someone else. The only people they were seeing were each other with the past forgotten and all the reasons why they left to begin with. That had been the point all along, to forget what the other had done which only ended with reasons to get back together. 

“You make it sound like you want me to think it.”

“I’m just curious why you are so sure.”

“Minjeong was talking with Chaewon to see if you were there, but she told her that Yunjin had someone over.”

It went silent, the girl on the other end waiting for Y/n to talk who looked down at Yunjin in the neon shades and colours that seeped through the windows. It was all she could see whenever she was with her, all the colours and the shades, they were comforting and made her feel safe. The colours that Yunjin painted her with were her comfort. 

“Oh.” Was all she was able to get out, thinking about how relieved everyone seemed that the two weren’t together. 

“I’m sorry, I maybe shouldn’t have–”

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m more than fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” 

Y/n reassured her because she was fine in the end, she was with Yunjin and she didn’t need to be anywhere else. She liked these cold waters that her skin got used to, they felt warm, and they filled her lungs and burned which caused so much warmth to course through them. There was no escaping it as they were tangled in each other while sinking to the bottom of waters that were their home, that they should swim in, but the second one of them tried to swim the other got pushed down further and grasped onto harder which made them both only sink further into each other. There was no swimming away from the other and leaving them behind in the perfectly blue ocean with twinges of red. 

“Okay, that’s good to hear. When are you coming home then? You never said where you went.” 

“I will be home in the morning, I’m with Hanni.” 

“Okay then, goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight.” 

She dropped her phone on the bed and huffed when Yunjin pulled away from her neck, their legs tangling, it was just them behind the curtains. “I miss you during the day,” Yunjin mumbled as she was unable to get enough of Y/n now that she felt like she somewhat had her back. Her hands held onto the girl’s waist whose fingers trailed along her collarbones as they laid on their sides while looking at each other. 

“Me too,” it had always been a problem, but no matter what they tried to do their arrogance got in the way. The other’s schedule had to sound more important than the others even if it was just about replying to texts a little too late. 

Yunjin smiled, her eyes trailing over every feature on Y/n’s face, her gaze tender enough to feel like it was caressing the younger’s face. It wasn’t enough though, she loved feeling Y/n’s skin under her fingertips, the way it reacted like water to raindrops, letting her sink in and become part of her. Her fingers ran over Y/n’s cheek before brushing hair strands behind her ear.

“What did you miss the most?” Y/n questioned and Yunjin let out a breathless chuckle. 

The redhead propped herself up on her elbow and Y/n stared up at her, laying under the gaze of eyes that held her reflection like water. The girl cupped the feline under her jaw and leaned down, her lips tenderly falling against Y/n’s, pecking them with lingering feelings that never washed away as they were the wet sand at the bottom that would always be there. 

“The way you make me feel like I’m listening to Pink Floyd, it’s like drowning in another world from how psychedelic it feels…It feels unreal with you, Y/n.”

Y/n was sure that there would be waves around her if she were to be in actual water right now from how Yunjin’s words made her heart beat faster and harder. She was the oxygen in a place where there was none such as the bottom of a deep blue ocean of feelings that could be suffocating.

“What songs?” 

“‘Hey You’ and ‘Breathe’.” 

“Of course.” 

Y/n giggled and pushed Yunjin over before straddling her, the covers falling off their bodies and resting behind them. The girl couldn’t help but run her hands over Y/n’s body and feel the skin against hers. She trailed along her waist up and down, feeling the outline of the girl's ribs, feeling each reaction, each nerve that let Y/n know how good Yunjin made her feel. 

“I also missed you just this way, when it’s just us and no one else, especially naked.” 

There truly was nothing greater as Y/n leaned down and kissed Yunjin, closing her eyes and letting the current pull her further down. It felt too good, the cold water against warm skin was soothing, and the colours that would break through the surface, the reflection of the sun during the day and the moon at night. Those things that looked so beautiful, brought sentimental memories, that was what their love felt like. 

Their heads tilted, Y/n parted her lips and let Yunjin press her tongue against hers. It was languid with notes of desire and longing because they had yet to get enough since they started to see each other again. After every time apart, they only grew stronger feelings for each other. The only witness of their love right now were the silent raindrops falling down the window. With passion they tangled with each other, the heat growing as soft sounds started to occupy the room. 

“Fuck–” Yunjin breathed out, her hand tangling itself in the feline’s hair at the back of her head, pulling her back slightly as her lungs burned from how there was no air underwater. She tried to gasp for it, but they always stole every little bit of oxygen around each other. “I missed having you right here,” her voice was almost withering from how much her chest was already heaving, looking Y/n right in the eye as their breaths brushed against their lips. Right here meant in the confines of a safe space that was more than their arms, a room where they had spent countless nights talking, crying, shouting, loving, hating, and sinking. 

The walls were engraved with their love. 

“I know–” Y/n replied, fully aware that the girl had missed her and missed engraving their names on any space left on these walls. She pecked Yunjin’s lips, the girl trying to chase after them by raising her head but she didn’t get the chance. “I missed being right here with you.” Y/n’s walls were witness to those words, knowing how many nights she’d spent crying over the emptiness she felt of not having heavy waves wash over her and drag her into the warmth of Yunjin. 

It didn’t work to be apart. 

Yunjin dropped her head back down as Y/n started to pour her kisses over her skin, it was like a shower of sin, but it was also her salvation as it healed just as much as it scarred. The girl kissed Yunjin’s neck, softly moving her lips, trailing them along her pulsating veins while wetting them with her tongue. The older one hummed at the tender kisses that Y/n left on her skin, making her close her eyes to truly dwell on the feeling.

She reached Yunjin’s collarbones, it was almost like walking carelessly into things the way Y/n sucked on her skin and left marks along her collarbones, gracing her with art made from love and passion. Her hands were soothing over Yunjin’s shoulders, the skin was like powder from how soft it felt while she kissed further down. The girl under her was heaving for breath from how good it felt to be covered with Y/n’s kisses who went down her body, glancing up to see Yunjin looking down at her expectantly with her wet lips parted in anticipation. 

Y/n’s tongue came out, licking a stripe up Yunjin’s stomach that sucked in from the feeling, eyes connected through the blur that everything became so deep under and in the emotions. There was a twinkle in Yunjin’s eyes, a pleading one as she pushed herself up with Y/n in her lap. Her hand pushed back the silky hair as she kissed her lips before kissing along her cheek and over to Y/n’s ear.

“Be good and take me into your mouth, Y/n.” It was somewhere between a request and a soft command. Fingers ran over the girl’s spine down to her ass before Yunjin gripped it, her lips sucking right where Y/n’s pulse point was, feeling the sigh that the feline let out right by her ear. 

She manoeuvred them around in the bed until she sat at the edge. With fluidity Y/n crawled down Yunjin’s lap, finding herself between her legs while looking up at the ginger who licked her lips. Her eyes were glued to Y/n, never missing a second of the girl whenever they were with each other.

A shaky breath fell from between Yunjin’s lips when Y/n wrapped her hand around her semi-hard cock. The minx bit her lower lip slowly pumping the thick member that was scalding in her hand, her tongue stuck out, looking up through her lashes for approval that she always got through Yunjin’s eyes no matter what they were doing. A deep hum escaped Yunjin at the way Y/n licked along her tip, tongue running over the slit and collecting the leaking salty pre-cum. 

“Use your mouth well, angel so I can love you good after.” Her voice was thick with need, gruffly, her hand coming into Y/n’s hair, pushing it away from her face and holding it back for her. For a split second her eyes glance at the window, eyes falling on Y/n’s silhouette on the floor, looking like a real feline with her perfect ridges as she was on the floor on her knees. Y/n’s silhouette would always stay behind, it would always swim in Yunjin’s mind, moving gracefully and making the ginger drown in her. 

Y/n pumped up one last time, more precum slowly oozed from the slit on the pinkish tip and she parted her lips. Her eyes closed at the approving hum that came from Yunjin when she started to circle with her tongue, taking in inch by inch into her mouth before suckling back up, her hand stroking the rest.

The movement was enough to make Yunjin’s breathing grow heavier, occupying the room together with the wet sounds of Y/n’s mouth messily working along her length. “Such a good and messy doll.” The praises spilled through her mouth the same way spit ran down Y/n’s chin. The younger moved her hand down, cupping the pair of balls that were hard and heavy with cum in her palm. 

The grip on her hair tightened, and faint moans started to spill from Yunjin’s mouth at the warm mouth that worked her length. She leaned back against her palm while looking down at Y/n through hooded eyes. The girl bobbed her head, stroking her cock while hollowing her cheeks, the suction making the ginger roll her eyes back and whine at how good it felt. 

“So good, baby doll.” She breathed out, and her hand slowly pushed Y/n further down her cock as the pleasure was overwhelming her senses. It made her toes curl when she hit the back of Y/n’s throat without the girl gagging, her balls getting toyed with in the gentle hand. Tongue trailing over the bulging vein, circling her tip and showering it with the most attention as it was sensitive.  

The minx of a girl pulled away to catch her breath, her hand worked along the throbbing cock, her tongue licking at the tip and down the base. The work was sloppy just the way Yunjin loved it as only Y/n could make her head get light and stomach tie knots so tight that when they snapped she went numb. 

Y/n took her cock back into her mouth, tongue flat against the thick vein that was pulsating, hot in her mouth. The minx moaned, opening her throat for Yunjin to deep-throat her cock. It was enough to elicit a whimper from the ginger who tightened her grip on Y/n even more. It made her hold the girl down, Y/n’s nose tickling her pelvis for a second. She pulled back, sucking hard, making the other get dizzy at how good it felt and she pulled away, quickly going back down. 

Y/n looked up through her lashes at Yunjin who was now letting moans spill from her mouth without any resistance, but she tried to keep them low enough to not get in trouble. The girl wasn’t stopping and the knot was starting to tear to snap at last which Y/n was able to tell by how Yunjin’s breathing got deeper, her moans turning breathy and her balls tightening in Y/n’s hand. 

“Close ‘m so close.” She gasped, her body convulsing as her eyes closed and a deep frown covered her eyebrows, pushing Y/n’s head down with her thighs trembling. Breathless sounds fell from her mouth. The tip twitched in Y/n’s mouth, hips stuttering and cum shot in thick ropes down her throat, the salty taste barely managing to linger on her tongue as she swallowed down everything right away. The suction made Yunjin groan and Y/n slowly pulled away as the grip on her hair loosened.

“So perfect and so good for me,” the ginger mumbled as Y/n used one of the discarded shirts on the floor and wiped her mouth before Yunjin pulled her up to her feet. The girl stood between her legs, their fingers hooked and she guided Y/n back into her lap. Her hand reached to Y/n’s face, cupping her cheek and using her thumb to run over her wet lips. “You’re the prettiest and best girl I’ve had in my life.” She pecked Y/n’s lips with that and the girl shook her head with a small smile. 

“Don’t say that.” It warmed her too much and then hurt twice as much when she became the prettiest and most hated girl she’s ever had in her life. 

“Why not? It’s the truth.” 

“Just don’t, you have so many other women in your life you should put first.” Y/n refused to believe again that Yunjin would ever even consider putting her first. That was why she knew better than to say those words herself to the ginger, knowing that she would never be able to put Yunjin first either. That had always been a problem and that had always been a reason to give up and try again because what if?

The longer she stared at Yunjin’s gazing like star eyes that were sparkling the harder it got to say no to being her perfect, pretty, and best girl. The easier it got to accept the fact that within a few months, she would be pretty, but far from perfect and best. 

“I only want to put you first because I have you right here.”

“Don’t be selfish when it comes to me.” 

Yunjin chuckled, but maybe she was aware that Y/n would never truly belong to her and she would never truly belong to Y/n. They belonged to the hungry sharks that swam past their sinking bodies, trashing them and disturbing the peace that they felt in drowning, but they weren’t allowed to die in peace when it came to their love. 

Words made moments more memorable at times, but actions made them bearable and so Y/n leaned in and kissed the older girl. It felt right to be more than sinking stars and be able to be hungry sharks for each other. Yunjin’s hands gripped onto the girl's ass, fingertips digging into the lissom flesh while pulling Y/n’s smaller body closer to her. 

Among a sea where they were prey, they were also predators, but only to each other. That carnal desire struck as they wanted to dig into each other’s skin and colour the ocean red with love. Their flesh was tender for each other, unlike the tough exterior that they had on for everyone else. It made it so much easier to devour and dwell in as it tasted of greedy passion that was only reserved for the other. 

Y/n moaned and gasped into Yunjin’s mouth, their tongues tangling and sucking each other in. Nails scratched along the side of Yunjin’s neck while another worked her semi-hard length back to life. It got past a stage of just love and went to a stage that mixed with desires stronger than love, more dangerous because it hurt much more after. 

They pulled away to move onto the middle of the bed again and Y/n pushed Yunjin down, getting on top of the older. She grabbed hold of her hard cock that was throbbing in her hold, the heat between her legs strong as the feline ached for release. Yunjin watched Y/n lift her hips, her eyes falling on the girl’s slick tiny cunt and her stomach flexed as the younger ran her bulbous tip through her folds. 

Y/n bit her tongue and guided the tip to her entrance as the other girl held onto her hips to provide her more support. It made her groan at the familiar tightness she slowly got engulfed in while Y/n let out a faint gasp at the painful stretch. “Oh fuck.” The feline whimpered while slowly sinking and being filled up by the thickness and length that entered her raw. 

“You can take it, you’re doing so well, doll.” Yunjin encouraged, her hands caressing the girl’s hips while her eyes went between Y/n’s face which was somewhere between pleasure and pain and the girl’s pink little pussy that her cock was too big for. Her eyes eagerly watched as she disappeared inside the girl, splitting her folds while being slowly sucked into such tightness that she had to try extra hard to not reach her peak right away. “My pretty girl.” She continued, the praises easing Y/n’s mind from the uncomfortable feeling as she, at last, eased Yunjin's cock fully inside her while heaving for air that she had held in. 

She pulled Y/n down to kiss away the shaky breath that left her lips, waiting for the girl on top to start and set the pace to not accidentally hurt her. “I love you,” she whispered against her lips, her palm caressing the side of Y/n’s neck while her other hand gripped onto the girl’s ass who slowly moved her hips back and forth. Their lips came back together in a wet kiss with desires that were difficult to hold back. “So much, love you so much.” Her words weren’t falling deaf, they were digging their way into flesh and Y/n’s heart after not hearing them for two months. 

Y/n’s forehead rested against Yunjin’s, her hair falling around them, covering everything, and nothing from the surface ever went below except them. Her panting breaths mixed with Yunjin’s breaths who moved her hand from Y/n’s neck to push back some of her hair. 

“You don’t hate me, do you?” The words couldn’t help but intrude in this moment but they were still lingering inside her, swimming in a pool of all the things Yunjin had ever said to her. The sweet things could never win against the small portion of words that left her insecure in deep waters where security was the only thing that could keep her alive. 

“I could never hate you.” Only in the moment was she capable of hate and Y/n knew it because the feline for a second hated Yunjin for lying once again, for making yet another promise she would break. 

“I love you, Jen.” She pecked her lips after, sealing them for the moment. 

Y/n pulled back with her words, the discomfort not being as prominent as her walls adjusted to the dick that was a big fit for her, being smaller than her ex-girlfriend when it came to proportion. The bulge was evidence of the situation as Y/n’s nails dug into Yunjin’s stomach for support.

She raised her hips, rolling them back down with a gasp and repeating the movements, each time coming down with a new ferocity as they were somewhere between expressing their deep love and taking out the leftover anger at the bottom of the bottle, drop by drop falling from the tip and mixing with everything else they had ever spilled. 

“Fuck, Y/n, you’re doing so good taking and riding me,” her hand ran up and cupped one of the girl's breasts, fitting it in her palm with ease and groping at it. Feeling over her body to take in the curves she knew she would be able to draw with her eyes closed. Every little detail of Y/n’s body, Yunjin knew and loved. 

The sopping sounds started to occupy the room, the girl’s moans, whines, and whimpers grew louder and mixed with Yunjin’s heavy breaths and grunts. She could feel every inch of the girl inside her, the way her cock twitched every time she clasped around her more and let out sounds. The stretch felt painful, but in a good way, knowing that Yunjin was too big for her and would always perfectly crush her smaller body until she was trembling. They both loved the feeling, Y/n loved how full she felt with Yunjin and Yunjin loved how she overfilled the smaller girl, how Y/n’s stomach bulged and how tight her pussy was and how she always tried her best to take everything. 

It was hard to prevent and so Yunjin started to meet the girl’s thrust, their skin slapping against each other echoing in the room and bouncing off the walls with all the other sounds. Her fingers played with the girl’s hard nipple, fondling her breast while getting lost in the strong current of feelings and emotions that dragged her. Her eyes stuck on Y/n’s skin which was flawless and perfect, the moonlight casting its light on her as it always complimented her the best. Her cock dragged along the clasping walls, making the younger’s thighs tense up, thrusting and hitting the spots just for Y/n.

“Feels good, I love how you touch me,” Y/n whined, her hands holding onto Yunjin’s tense thighs that flexed with each thrust. 

“You look so fucking good, Y/n–you take my dick so well, doll.” She huffed at the feeling of Y/n’s wet cunt who threw her head back while increasing her pace to a deeper one. Her clit was throbbing and her walls pulsating around the scalding dick, her ass colliding with Yunjin’s thighs each time she went down, gyrating her hips in a perfect rhythm that was making her and the older girl’s back arch. 

“I need more, Jen, please.” Y/n whimpered, their bodies moving like waves that perfectly collided with the shore, but it wasn’t enough for the girl. She needed more and Yunjin could provide more. She needed the waves to collide with sharp tone ruins that made the water splash everywhere. Yunjin always knew when to give just enough and when to give more than enough and make everything overflow. They knew how to sink and go down together. 

She gripped hold of Y/n’s hips, stopping the girl, their eyes landed on each other as they were both heaving for breath at how intense it felt. It made Y/n hold back a whimper when she moved off of Yunjin with the older one manhandling her to lay down on the bed. The sheets were cold under her warm body, the two covered in a faint sheen of sweat and her body with ease got pinned under the other. 

“How much do you want it, pretty?” Yunjin questioned as she lay down between the girl’s legs. Her cock rested heavily against Y/n’s thigh, her arms trapping Y/n in her bubble of air as they were on each side of her head. The strands of hair tickled Y/n’s prominent collarbones who could feel the heat radiate off of Yunjin and onto her body, the scent getting much stronger with how they were steaming and so close to one another. Body against body with nothing in between. 

“There’s nothing I want more–nothing more than you.” Y/n breathed out, their lips mingling and falling into a dance at last as they swallowed each other whole once more. One dance wasn’t enough, nothing would ever be enough. The ginger brushed her tongue over Y/n’s lips, slipping it past them, pushing her slick muscle against Y/n’s, wanting to taste more than the tender flesh on the outside but on the inside too. Her one hand went down between them as she guided her throbbing tip towards Y/n’s desperate entrance. 

The intensity increased tenfold when she slowly pushed in, kissing Y/n with more need to steal her breath when she gasped into her mouth. The younger wrapped her arms around Yunjin’s back, making her exhale deeply through her nose at the nails that slowly started to dig into the skin. 

Teeth dug into Yunjin’s lower lip when she in one fluid motion pushed her length fully inside Y/n who dropped her head to the pillow after. Her fingers found the girl’s swollen clit as she started to move her hips, rolling them in and out, providing deep thrusts that made the bed squeak and Y/n hold on tighter to not move with each thrust into her small hole. 

Whiny moans high in pitch left the feline’s mouth at the pleasure that started to course much stronger within her. Her walls clenched around the cock that was pistoning in and out of her, the moans hard to contain or keep down. Nails dragged down the pale skin of Yunjin’s back that flexed with each deep thrust, being a reminder of their love for after they would be done because their love was always present. 

“I’m close, Jen, you feel too good.” 

“Fuck—I’m gonna fill you up, doll, give you everything. Fill your tiny little pussy with my cum.” 

She dug her teeth into Y/n’s shoulder, eyes closing at the sounds that were filling her ear. Her hips pulled away before slamming back into the tight confines. The sounds grew loud, a bit too loud, but everything grew muffled to them. Her skin slapped against Y/n’s, the sounds were lewd and wet, erotic, her balls colliding with Y/n who was mewling under her and clawing at her back as she was trying to get more even if it was too much already. Her tip occasionally hit the girl’s cervix as she managed to fill her to the brim. 

Y/n gasped, her back arching and chest pushing into Yunjin who raised her head to watch the girl’s face that contorted into a blissful pleasure with her lips parted, head thrown back and eyes closed. She bunched up the pillow cover in her fist, speeding up her pace and making Y/n cry out at the way her insides were being drilled by Yunjin. Her moans turned into gasps for air as her orgasm was starting to wash over her with her body growing in heat. 

“Fuck, fuck, Jen–” It was blinding the girl on top who continued going at a fast speed that made her breathing heavy and throaty, a primal need to dominate the girl and to claim her right back as hers. There was something enthralling about watching the way Y/n was getting filled by her, her body moving with each thrust while desperately trying to stay in place despite not going anywhere because Yunjin held her in place. 

Y/n’s body tensed up, arching and pulling Yunjin closer to her as her walls fluttered around the cock that was splitting her in the best way possible. All control floated away as the waves hit her one after another, her thighs quivering from the intense orgasm, her nails running along Yunjin’s back to hold on and have her close to her. It made her ears ring and eyes roll, only the older one being able to see the pleasure that Y/n went through.

The ginger stopped playing with the swollen and slick clit when Y/n jerked at the touch, burying her face into the crook of the feline’s neck after. The pussy around her cock pulsated with aftershocks and sent her so close to the edge. Her palm pressed against Y/n’s stomach, covering it with just one hand, being able to feel the bulge each time she thrust inside the girl and it was enough to send her mind into a frenzy, imagining how deep inside the smaller girl she was. How Y/n was taking her. 

She pulled out and stuffed her cock as deep as possible one last time, pressing down more onto Y/n’s lower belly as she moaned into her neck before biting down on the skin. Her breaths grew into a high pitch as she came, thick ropes of cum shooting out her tip and each splashing the smaller girl’s walls white as she could feel it all. 

Her arm gave out and Y/n huffed at the weight that landed on top of her body, still panting for air while trying to not get overwhelmed by the big dick and cum overflowing her small cunt. “God, I missed you and this.” She groaned, trying to get back the feeling in her legs. “You did so well for me, doll,” she mumbled, huffing for air while planting soft kisses over Y/n’s neck. 

“I can’t breathe, Jen,” Y/n winced.

Yunjin exhaled deeply and weakly rolled over, her chest heaving as it felt like she was being dragged down into the bed, sinking deeper than she had before while she stared at her ceiling that got further away and blurrier the further she sank. It didn’t feel right for a second as her body was humid with sweat with no warmth, but it was all fixed when Y/n moved her body and hugged around her waist, her head resting on her shoulder as she curled up to Yunjin’s body. 

Suddenly it felt right as they drowned together.

She reached for the duvet that was thrown aside on the bed and draped it over their lower bodies. Her arms wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders and she pulled the smaller girl closer to her as she hugged her to provide safety even where it felt like it was dangerous. They were chained together in a box filled with anchors that would make sure that they stayed down and with each other. 

It felt right even though something would always be wrong. 

“You’re mine, right?” She questioned, craning her neck to look at Y/n who raised her head the best she could from how she was entombed in Yunjin’s arms. 

“Always,” she whispered and closed her eyes at the lingering kiss that Yunjin left on her forehead. That was reassurance of how it was fine, it was home, but something would always be off, disturbing them because something would always be wrong with the fact that they were drowning in their home. 

“Can you say that one thing?” Yunjin asked, staring into the distance that her ceiling didn’t have, but her eyes imagined. 

Y/n hummed, confused about what she meant. 

Yunjin was waiting for reassurance of how it felt right and wrong at the same time. “About the fish.” She prompted, her hand coming into Y/n’s hair as she tenderly played with it, running her fingers through it and feeling the girl in her arms because she truly was there. Y/n’s tired voice mumbled the words that would drive them both to sleep in the warmth of water filling their lungs while also burning. 

“I’m like a fish that drowns, I’m at home in water, but something is wrong even though everything else feels right. I know that I would die if I wasn’t here. I know that this is my only home, but there will always be something wrong with the fact that I drown even when I’m at home.”

masterlist

[lo1k-diamonds]

💎Masterlist💎

All my writing can be found on ao3 and there’s no way I’m putting my gigantic stories here 🙈😅

That said, I’ll still put here the list with all my stories and links to find them!

[All my stories have angst - from just a misunderstanding to full-blown out-of-proportion fights 😋]

🔥 » SMUT | 📚 » multichapter | 🎀 » fluff [G- general/T- teen/M-mature/E-explicit]

Series

{ongoing 💜} Soul Palette (Soulmate AU) >> [Masterpost] >> In this soulmate alternate universe, there are no marks, no strings, and no traces to guide them to their other half. But if they listen carefully, destiny is just around the corner patiently waiting to mix them in the soul palette and create universes - together.

✔ SX Seoul >> [Masterpost] >> SX Seoul is a new club in Itaewon. Decorated with neon lights, its cozy and enveloping ambiance will have you living your wildest dreams. Each story is standalone - one per member!

RM 

{ongoing 💜} Unique (E) 🔥📚 - OC x idol!NJ - Namjoon dedicated his whole life to being a diligent idol, putting the music and group above his individual needs and desires. He believes he's doing the right thing until an unexpected meeting shifts how he sees the world. But life isn't easy, and even a unique connection can't change fate. Or can it? [Masterpost]

Klartraum (E) 🔥📚 - OC x idol!NJ - Fantasy AU » A story that follows Namjoon as he takes notes of his dreams of you in a dream journal.

Smoke Sprite (M) 🔥 - idol!Namjoon x So!YoON! - A short drabble about the song [Tumblr]

Closer (E) 🔥 - SX Seoul Series » NJ x Reader » Namjoon and you were friends for years — he was your confidant, protector, and haven. You didn’t want to risk it, no matter what, but some things can’t be kept in the dark. [Tumblr]

Jin

Carnation (T)📚 - Soul Palette (Soulmate AU) (1st entry)» OC x idol!SJ » In early 2018, BTS were at a crossroads: after working so hard to set foot in the music industry of South Korea, their sudden jump into stardom became something they never anticipated. Jin believed in his dongsaengs but was just as lost as them when his soulmate entered the picture. [1st chapter - Tumblr]

Break-line (E) 🔥 - SX Seoul Series » Jin x Reader » You’ve been chasing dreams and medals ever since you can remember, with your best friend Seokjin by your side. You thought you had everything you could possibly want — until you find out Jin is keeping a secret from you. [Tumblr]

Suga

Call you mine (E) 🔥📚 - Soul Palette (Soulmate AU) (3rd entry)» OC x idol!YG » A slowburn rejection soulmate story about falling in love with Min Yoongi. [1st chapter - Tumblr]

Sugar Rush Ride (E) 🔥 - SX Seoul Series » YG x Reader » You produced a song based on your hidden desires for your fellow producer and promised yourself that tonight, things would change. You were done pining after him, but then he arrived at the listening party. [Tumblr]

Too Sweet (E) 🔥📚 » You x Demon!YG » Coming from unabashed wealth has its perks — like never having to lift a finger in your life. When that suddenly changes, you end up at a crossroads: how far will you go to have everything you want? [Masterpost]

Stellar Behavior (E) 🔥📚 » Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader »  Yoongi has been in the police force for long enough to know that the system isn’t perfect, so when an injustice is about to put his protégé in jail, he has no other choice but to go to you. You’re the devil, but you’re hard to resist, and he needs to decide between falling into temptation or showing you that two can play the game.[Masterpost]

J-hope

Seeking the sunrise (E) 🔥📚 - Soul Palette (Soulmate AU) (2nd entry)» OC x idol!HS » No one needs a soulmate to have love, right? [1st Chapter - Tumblr]

Adage (E) 🔥 - SX Seoul Series » HS x Reader » You have an exclusive interview with the event coordinator of SX Seoul, who happens to be your teenage crush. [Tumblr]

Jimin

Dress (E) 🔥 - OC x idol!JM » After pining for years, she has reached her breaking point — and it started with a dress. [Reader version - Tumblr]

Like Crazy (E) 🔥 - SX Seoul Series » JM x Reader » You let your desires run wild and things got too far while figuring out the choreography for Jimin’s next single. You thought it was best to pretend it never happened, but he decided to chase you, hoping to set things right. [Tumblr]

Down Bad (E) 🔥🩸 - Vampire!Jimin x human(f)reader » You find the cure to your clumsiness in becoming Jimin’s dance partner. But twirling in his arms risks more than just your heart, especially after he bites you. [Part 1][Part 2]

V

Love Crumbs (M) 📚 - OC x Office!Tae - Office AU » Quinn’s plans were simple: win that promotion and maybe have a little fun on the side. Taehyung was in love with someone else, but that wasn’t an issue. It’s a shame things are never really that simple.

A woman's best friend (E) 🔥 - Tae x (f) reader » When you met, you and Taehyung hit it off instantly, becoming the closest of friends. You thought he was off limits, meanwhile, he’s been begging for a chance to put an end to your friendship. [Part 1][Part 2]

Paramour (E) 🔥 - SX Seoul Series » Tae x (f) reader » You were born for the quick and glamorous life surrounding celebrities — they had their little dramas and breakdowns, and you were there to clean up the mess. But you have your own secret, and doing your job might get you in trouble with your paramour. [Tumblr]

My Demon, My Love (E) 🔥📚 » Demon!Tae x human (f) reader » All Taehyung wanted was business as usual — strike a deal, claim a soul, and enjoy dessert. But somehow, he ended up powerless, with no choice but to ask for your help. [Part 1][Part 2][Part 3]

Jungkook

Far Cry (E)🔥📚 - OC x idol!JK - Lost AU » After barely escaping captivity, Jungkook is lost in a jungle on an unknown island with an injured Namjoon and an amnesiac girl. [1st Chapter - Tumblr] ➡ snippets

Standing Next to You (M) 🔥 - You x Demon!JK - MV based » JK is a lust demon — a powerful being that inflames desires at the simplest glance. That is his nature and all there is to his existence. Until there was you.

Bubbles (E) 🔥📚 - SX Seoul Series » JK x Reader » You’re back in town and your first stop in a night out with friends is a new club: SX Seoul. You had no plans, but when you see your ex, everything changes. - [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

How to Choose a Valentine (T) 🎀 - reader x idol!JK » Who knew the best company for Valentine’s Day would be a lovely Doberman? And who knew he’d get you a Valentine? Well, sort of. [Tumblr]

Be as it must (E) 🔥📚 » Alpha!Jungkook x Omega(f)reader »  It’s hard being an omega in a world where they've all but disappeared, but you're safe as long as you stay under the radar. What happens when you're found and taken to your boss, CEO Jeon Jungkook?[Masterpost]

{ongoing 💜} Make It Right (E) 🔥📚 » idol!JK x (f)readed » After the last concert in Busan, Jungkook decides to stay at his parents' and make the best of that pause. He never dreamed he would have the chance to meet you again, but now that he has, he won't give up. This is his chance to make things right. [Part 1][Part 2]

[imjustasimpxd]

Something Old, Something New

(Chapter One)

➬ Ken Sato x Fem reader

Summary : At first glance, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. With money, fame, and success surrounding his name, there was nothing he couldn’t get his hands on. They say money can buy happiness. That may be true to an extent, however, can money buy forgiveness? Unfortunately for Ken, no amount of money and influence can turn back time and change the past. No amount of bribery can erase the fact that he had chosen to abandon his wife in favor of pursuing his baseball career. That awful decision he made took place five years ago, when he was just starting out as a professional athlete. But now that he’s matured and had time to reflect on his actions, can he hope for a chance to rekindle his marriage? Or should he accept defeat and live with the consequences of letting the only woman he’s ever truly loved slip away from him?

Word count : around 2,500 words

Warnings : mentions of abandonment and neglect, arrogant Sato, sad reader, mentions of regret, angst

Author’s notes : comments and reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on

Disclaimer : this is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.

Side Note : This fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or stela my work.

Ken Sato. Looks, wealth, talent, charisma, and confidence rolled into one good looking package. 

The mere mention of his name was enough to cause an uproar of fanatics screaming and shouting in excitement, as if they were a pack of wolves howling at the moon. 

Though he was mostly known for his impressive baseball career, being named one of the most eligible bachelors in sports didn’t hurt his credibility either. If anything, playing the part of the charming ladies’ man only increased his popularity, especially to any of his adoring fans that were women, which most of them were.

After becoming one of the biggest celebrities in both Japanese and American sports, there weren’t many people who were ignorant of a household name such as his. Every man wanted to be him, and every woman wanted to be with him. 

To the public eye, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. But looks can be deceiving, can’t they? Especially when it comes to a man who’s spent years hiding his true feelings behind a veil of humor and charisma. 

No one could know how much he was struggling to keep it all together, or the depths of the affliction eating away at his heart. He was Ken Sato after all, and Ken Sato wasn’t weak, he was a legend, and legends never died, they prevailed. So, he must too.

No matter how much the reporters hounded him, using every possible tactic they could think of to pry into his personal life, Kenji never gave them more than a shred of minuscule details. Feeding them like rats, giving them only the bare necessities to satisfy their hunger for a short while before they came crawling back, demanding more. 

He never let them know more than he wanted, more than he felt like sharing, and frankly, there was a plethora of details he didn’t feel like sharing. 

His reputation of perfection probably wouldn’t uphold itself that well if the media knew about all the things he was wrestling with. Between being a newfound parent to a kaiju infant by day and a masked vigilante known as Ultraman by night, Ken didn’t exactly fit the cookie cutter version of “having it all together.” 

And if that wasn’t enough, then the shame he harbored towards a decision he made almost five years ago would definitely topple the pedestal he comfortably built his identity on. 

The press loved gossip, and they’d fight tooth and nail for even the smallest scintilla of drama. Twisting innocent words and blowing frivolous details out of proportions was the job of reporters. So, imagine the headlines they’d make if those reporters found out any real insiders on the life of the world-famous baseball player. 

Imagine the sales they’d make if a journalist ever got ahold of the information about his past, the same past he’s been hiding away from during his time back in Japan.  

He’s thought about calling, maybe writing a letter to express some form of condolences, but what if word got out? What if the press found out about the woman he used to be married to, the same one he abandoned five years ago in order to pursue his baseball career. 

Forget his most recent batting record, a scandalous story such as that would make headlines from both sides of the Pacific Ocean, and then there really would be nowhere else for him to hide from his past, lest he fancied moving somewhere more remote and secluded. 

If that day came, if Ken Sato was exposed for the decisions he made before becoming famous, then his reputation might take some irreparable damage. 

That’s why he was so closed off towards reporters, towards his teammates, towards everyone. 

Never let anyone close to you and they can never betray you. That’s how Ken Sato lives. 

At least, how he did live, before a little reptilian creature crawled into his life, forcing him to realize there were things that mattered more than wealth and fame.

Before taking care of a kaiju infant became the priority in his life, Ken Sato had rooted his worth in the success of his career. So once that career took off, offering him all the success and affluence he could ever want, he began to realize just how little he really had. 

Despite the riches, the popularity, all of it felt meaningless with no one to share it with. He could’ve held a party with hundreds of guests, surrounding himself with countless people all desperate to please him. Nevertheless, none of it would fill the emptiness engulfing his heart; knowing that no one he interacted with would ever see him as more than a means to financial gain and an increase in social status. 

He had a world full of convenience and opportunities at his fingertips, and yet, he never felt more detached from reality. 

His family was complicated, his friends were more like business partners who benefitted from their relations to him, and the one person he had ever felt truly comfortable around probably hated him now, after being dismissed in favor of baseball. 

In the end, even in a room full of dedicated fans, Ken Sato felt alone. 

However, then that little kaiju infant came along, and everything started to get better. Caring for a child, though tiring at first, gave Kenji something to work towards; a purpose that mattered more than advertising for energy drinks or scoring another record breaking hit at home plate. 

Emi finally gave him the one thing he always wanted, the same thing he always pretended not to need: family. 

After that, baseball didn’t seem to matter as much as it used to, unless he was teaching it to Emi. And all the wealth he had acquired over the years didn’t hold the same value as before, unless he was spending it on his adopted daughter. His lifestyle remained the same, but his heart was in a different place, a more peaceful one. 

Winning championships were more rewarding when he had someone to win for, someone to celebrate with afterwards. And now that he’d repaired the relationship between him and his father, things were looking promising for his future. 

But there was still one more roadblock, one last regret preventing him from moving forward completely. 

You. The woman he’d been married to for a whole year, and, regretfully, the same woman who asked for a divorce due to his neglectful and inconsiderate disregard for her. 

He was young and immature back then, foolishly believing the pursuit of his baseball career was more important than maintaining a healthy marriage. He was arrogant, thinking that extravagant gifts and vacations would keep you happy and secure his role as a provider. 

But he was ignorant to think that being married to you meant he no longer had to earn your affection. All the money and gifts in the world couldn’t make up for the fact that he was never home, and that you were never his priority back then. 

Every morning he’d wake up early, well before you, just to attend practice. And every night he’d come home late, just after dinner, claiming he had needed to stay longer than normal to practice more. 

You’d set out a plate for him, but after his baseball career started taking off, he didn’t really have the time for things such as family dinners or game nights; or so he said. 

He’d usually come home and skip dinner, taking a shower or going to sleep instead. You didn’t necessarily blame him for that, it was only natural for him to be tired from practice. But as the days of barely seeing him turned into months, and he started traveling consistently for his games, you started to feel more like a stranger to him than his wife. He was your husband on paper, but, in the confines of your home, you barely knew how to keep a conversation with him anymore. If you were being honest, you didn’t even really know him that well anymore. 

At least, not as much as you used to. Things were different when you first got married, he wasn’t always so arrogant and inconsiderate. Instead, he was passionate and playful, always knowing how to make you laugh after crying. Even on your first date, he was romantic and charming, making you blush to yourself every time a compliment slipped past his lips. 

But I guess the honeymoon phase people always warn you about before marriage was real; at least, it was for you and Kenji. 

Once his baseball career started taking off, the fame must’ve gotten to his head, and he forgot about the one woman who had been supporting him from the sidelines all along. You had gone to every game, recorded all his winning homeruns, supported his career even though it meant holding off on pursuing yours. And yet, he repaid you with neglect, with a one-sided marriage.

You held on for a while, convinced that he would come around, that his behavior would change and he would reflect on his actions. But after the one-year anniversary of your marriage arrived and he wasn’t even in town to celebrate with you, that’s when you made your decision. You were done being a second choice. 

You got in contact with a lawyer, gathered divorce papers and waited with bated breath till he got home from his trip. And the moment he walked in the door, you practically shoved the papers in his face, all the emotions you’d kept bottled up for so long suddenly coming out in a volcanic eruption of shouting and sobbing. 

And surprisingly enough, he stayed quiet through the majority of it, just watching with a hollow stare as you unleashed all the frustration you’d been harboring towards him. And without a word, he took the papers from you and fished out a pen from his desk drawer, signing them in silence. 

Maybe he had realized from your onslaught of emotions that you were better off without him, that he was clearly causing you pain, and you’d be happier once he set you free of him. Or maybe he really was just that heartless and figured now was the perfect opportunity to get rid of you. Either way, your stomach seemed to twist into a knot at the way he so casually signed those divorce papers and handed them back to you. 

This was what you had wanted, wasn’t it? You’re the one who had gathered the papers in the first place, you should’ve been happy that he was finally ending it, finally setting you free. And yet, you felt yourself holding back tears at his lack of emotion. He didn’t try to argue, he didn’t plead with you to give him another chance like you had expected him too. He just admitted defeat, giving up on trying to fix your marriage and taking off for Japan two days later. 

He left, leaving you back in America while he returned to his home country to continue baseball there; abandoning his American team in the middle of their journey to the championships. 

He had given you an opportunity to move on, to become the person he always prevented you from being, and so you took it.

You cut all forms of communication, threw out everything of his that he didn’t take when he left, and moved into your own apartment. It was a fresh start, a clean slate, and you finally had the chance to chase after your dream career, just like he had been doing.  

So, you did, and you didn’t give up. You refused to, you owed this to yourself, and you weren’t going to waste any more time pouring effort into someone who didn’t appreciate it. 

So, you worked, tirelessly, anxiously, until the day came when your newest novel finally become a bestseller all around the nation, and you were officially titled a successful author. 

Now it was your turn, to stand in front of a crowd of adoring fans, to sign autographs and attend fan events. It almost reminded you of your ex-husband, how people used to scream his name and cheer for his success. But now they were cheering for you, supporting you like he hadn’t. You almost laughed at the irony of it all. Five years ago, you would’ve never imagined the life you’d made for yourself now, celebrating your fourth bestselling novel in a row and becoming a well-known author like you always dreamed of. 

And yet, looking back, none of this would’ve been possible had you not been set free from the restraints your marriage to Ken Sato had bound you to. Without him and the neglect he subjected you to, you wouldn’t have worked as hard as you did. So really, in a way, you had him to thank for how far you’ve come and all the success you’ve accomplished. Because if he never signed those papers five years ago, you would still be tied down to a one-sided marriage. 

But you weren’t, and thank God for that.

Now you had moved on, and so had he. 

Or so you thought. 

Little did you know, Ken Sato was on a mission, and not as Ultraman this time. After undergoing the change and maturity necessary to become a parent to a kaiju infant, Kenji realized he needed to make things right between the two of you. Even if it had been five years since he last saw you. 

He wasn’t looking to ask you to take him back and rekindle your marriage, though he wouldn’t have minded if that ended up happening. Instead, he simply wanted to apologize for his actions, for being such a crappy husband back then. He had reflected a lot on the subject of your marriage over the past couple years, but, he never reached out in fear of your reaction to seeing him again. 

Although, after avoiding it for long enough, and getting a lecture about taking responsibility from his dad, he finally decided to go through with it and booked a flight back to America. 

He was nervous to say the least, but he knew he couldn’t back out. Even if you screamed and yelled at him, he had to take accountability for his past actions and apologize for the pain he’d caused you, for pushing you to the back burner while he allowed baseball to take priority in his life. 

He’d made peace with himself and his father already, thanks to the help of his adoptive daughter. So now it was time to make peace with you. And as he watched the plane lift off the ground from his window seat, he held his breath, wondering how you would react to seeing him again after so many years. 

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