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syd-djarin · 29 days

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flesh for fantasy

no outbreak AU!joel miller x f!reader

summary: Joel puts on a pair of pretty panties for you.

tags: SMUT, panty kink - joel wears them, no outbreak AU, a hint of nervous joel, they’re in love/established relationship, both of them are kinda switches but it's not super dom/subby just a hint in this (i think), unprotected piv sex which means we're getting creampied!!!!, cowgirl position, the panties STAY on, gratuitous use of daddy, teasing, praise kink (is it a syd fic without it?), oral m! receiving thru the panties, use of pet names

a/n: this one goes out to all my babygirls @katiexpunk, @studioghibelli, @joelmillerisapunk, @tightjeansjavi for letting me scream, pitch filthy ideas and matching my freak <3!!

i recommend (not required!!) listening to the song I titled the fic (: Flesh for Fantasy / Billy Idol

MDNI & reblog banners by @cafekitsune

lastly: resources for Palestine

“You ready, darlin’?” Joel asks from behind the bathroom door, voice gruff with a nervous arousal; the kind you get when experimenting or acting out a fantasy with a partner. Which is precisely what you and Joel are doing right now.

“Let me see you, pretty boy,” you purr back, sitting on the edge of your shared bed. A warm, tingly sensation thrums throughout your entire body, skin hot enough to ignite a fire.

Joel steps into view, and you’re sure you’ve never seen anything more glorious: your Joel, all brawn, golden skin, perfectly scruffy in all the right places, dressed in the prettiest, satin panties with dainty lace hems. The soft material accentuates his toned thighs and his gorgeous cock is bulging out at the seams. His entire body is flushed and you can feel the heat radiating off him from where you are seated feet away.

“Do I,” he clears his throat, “uh… look okay?” He gestures down at himself, fingers twitching by sides, as he shifts uneasily from one foot to the other—classic signs of Joel’s insecurity.

You realize you haven’t moved or spoken since he walked into the room; mesmerized and in a trance of ferocity. He’s the most gorgeous man you’ve had the pleasure of laying eyes on. You stand and saunter over to him, only slightly amused by his shyness– a rare display from your confident man. You gently tug his arms from their defensive stance across his chest and let them fall to his sides.

“I don’t think I’m quite what you had in mind, but I hope it still tickles your peach,” he says, his voice a low murmur. His eyes linger on the gentle caresses of your hands as they travel up and down his arms, over his chest, and across the soft belly you adore. Goosebumps rise on his skin with each loving touch, magnetizing the air around you both. He knows his body is not what it used to be, and despite your insistence that he keeps getting hotter with age and that his soft edges from “being loved and cared for” suit him, he’s having difficulty believing you.

This is the most vulnerable he’s ever felt with you, even though you’ve seen him naked countless times and he’s split open his soul for you, and only you. You sense his insecurity, of course. It's not hard to spot on your confident, competent man; you’re the only one his poker face doesn’t work on.

“Joel, my love, you are a vision,” you say softly, your voice sultry and lust laden.

He fights the urge to scoff, but then he finally has the courage to look you in the eyes and he starts to believe your words when he sees your pupils fully dilated, almost eclipsing your irises. You ghost your hand over his tummy to where he’s rock hard and straining against the panties, which is all it takes for his girthy tip to leak. You moan when you see the little damp spot forming on the delicate material. It turns your brain into that of a Neanderthal’s; primitive, primal, feral. Joel knows it too.

You sink down to your knees and admire the view of him towering above you, eyes now level with his crotch. You salivate instantly when you get this close to his cock – you’re no better than one of Pavlov’s dogs. Joel senses the shift; the hesitancy in his eyes vanishes, replaced by a newfound boldness.

You run your palms up and down his gorgeous thighs, relishing the way the soft hair covering the toned muscle feels against your skin. You lean forward to plant a kiss over the panties before Joel restrains you with a hand to the back of your neck. Just as you’re about to ask what gives, he cuts you off.

“Did you ask if you could touch daddy’s cock?” he hisses.

You and Joel playfully vie for control, each of you taking turns embracing a bratty demeanor—it’s an exhilarating dance of dominance between you two. You never want the game to end.

“Can I play with your cock, daddy? Pretty please?” you plead in your sweetest tone, knowing Joel gets off on it, and most of all, he can’t resist it.

“Go on baby, show your daddy how much you like him all dressed up for you,” he rasps out, encouraging, granting you the permission you have anyway.

“So, so pretty daddy,” you whine, and place a kiss right where his head is pressing against the fabric. He relaxes the grip on your neck, knowing it's only a matter of time before he’s putty in your hands.

You trace the wet spot with the tip of your tongue and find his head again, gently sucking through the fabric. Joel whimpers, the sound sweeter than any music, the sound that makes you beam with pride - knowing you can make your Joel fall apart the way you fall apart for him.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, fighting his instinctual reaction for his head to fall backwards.

You trace his length to meet his balls, heavy and prominent against the thin material. Looking up through your lashes you glide your flattened tongue over each one, earning the prettiest of throaty whimpers from him. You go to suck one through the panties and he gently squeezes your shoulder.

“Alright, baby, enough, gonna make me cream my panties for once,” he rasps, tugging you up from your kneeling position. Grateful for his hands anchoring you firmly by the waist; you’re reeling from the spectacle of your man in such a dainty piece of clothing.

Now face to face, you take in his appearance, equally spent, nearly fucked out already: breathless, with hazy sable eyes and sweat glistening near his hairline.

He leans against the headboard and pats his thigh, inviting you to join him. You comply, crawling up his body and hovering over his crotch before settling on his thighs. Realizing that you haven’t kissed him yet, not on the lips anyway, and seeing the same realization flash across his face, he angles his head to draw you into a tender kiss. His plush lips are heaven; making you safe, exhilarated, grounded, ravished — all at once. You lose yourself in the taste of his lips, the taste of him, your hips moving instinctively, seeking more contact, always wanting more, more, more. But his strong hands find your waist, gently but firmly halting your motions.

“Let’s get these off, pretty girl,” he says, while playfully snapping the waistband against your skin. You hastily crawl off him, you hold his gaze steady while slipping the fabric down your legs and carelessly toss them aside. While resuming position, you take in the reality of you being bare, and Joel still clad in his panties, and it causes your cunt to throb, fresh slick dripping from you.

“Tha’s better,” he grunts, ghosting his finger through your soaked core, you both moan in unison at the contact – you’ve never been wetter. Joel knows it too.

“This all for your daddy?” he asks, teases even, collecting more arousal on his fingertip, “she’s drooling all over me, baby, making such a mess.”

“Mhm-hmm,” you whine in desperation, and attempt to grind against him once more; desperate for relief from the profound ache in your pussy. He lands a slap on your ass, just enough to sting and leave your skin tingling, your body jolts forward on impact. You know he’s not satisfied with your blasé response.

“You like me in these panties, don’t ya baby? Is that why your slutty little pussy’s soaked, hmm?” He teases, squeezing the soft flesh he just spanked.

“Yeah,” you whine, “so fucking sexy, Daddy.”

“Show me,” he says, his voice caught somewhere in between a growl and a whimper. “Show me how much you love your daddy by coming for me just like this,” he instructs, sliding your core against his panty covered cock. Clutching his shoulders to keep your balance, you roll and buck your hips in fervor, your clit rubbing against the silken material over his cock has you racing towards your climax faster than you anticipated.

“That’s it honey, make a mess of these panties, show me what a good girl you are,” he babbles, goading you on.

“Then you can ride me with ‘em still on,” he encourages. A few more desperate rocks into his lap and you’re coming, crying out expletives mixed with chants of Joel. You cling to Joel’s broad frame, burying your face in the curve of his neck as you ride out the intensity. His hands draw soothing circles on your lower back, grounding you as you gently return to reality. He plans tender kisses on your temple, head, and any place his lips can find, grounding you with each touch.The tender affection makes your heart squeeze inside your chest, a warm ache flares there.

With a surge of renewed desire, you capture his lips once more, gently sucking on his plush bottom lip and lightly tugging it between your teeth. Joel’s resolve begins to crumble – he’s maintained control, played your little game, but now he’s yearning to be buried in your warmth. He caresses your cheek and jaw, lingering for a moment before pulling back slightly.

“Need you, baby,” he rasps, breaths quick and shallow, his way of telling you to take the lead, baby. It feels like you can almost see his heart pounding against his ribcage, reminiscent of a cartoon character’s exaggerated beat. His expression is one of sheer desperation, and it nearly melts you on the spot.

You slide your hand between your bodies, reaching for him with a teasing touch, but you pause, stopping just short of freeing him from the silk.

“Tell me how bad you need me daddy…” you trail off, ghosting a finger on the hem, moving your lips into a pathetic fake pout, one you know that Joel is unable to resist. But deep down, you love knowing that he needs you just as badly.

“So bad, need to be inside that sweet pussy,” he pleads, voice strained as if it’s paining him to not be inside you. It is. “Hmm, I think you can do better than that,” you reply, emphasizing your words with another roll of your hips, earning a hiss from him.

“Baby, please..” he pleads. You tug the hair at the nape of his neck, he whines and you feel the twitch of his cock beneath you. “Need your pussy so bad, baby, been achin’ for it… need to be inside you baby, pleasepleaseplease–” he babbles.

“You beg so sweet, daddy,” you coo, humming in approval when you finally free his cock from the prized garment of the evening and find it dribbling at the tip.

You put him out of his misery, and yours, and sink down onto his length, your forehead pressed against his. You moan into each other’s mouth, almost in unison. The built up tension, the waiting, the toying, has you clenching around him - feeling completely and utterly ravished.

“Fuck, can’t keep squeezing me like that sweetheart, I won’t last,” he groans. You relax your body, allowing you and Joel to catch your breaths.

“Am I good to move, baby?” You whisper, your mouth just an inch apart from his.

“Yes, fuck,” he cries out.

You hook one arm behind his neck, holding him close and hanging on for the ride. You bury your face where his neck meets his shoulders, exhilarated from his warmth, his sweet and woodsy musk invades your senses. Joel meets your movements, bucking his hips up, up, up making you cry each time his tip grazes your cervix.

“You close baby?” He grunts out one rushed exhale, breathless from exertion and the heavenly solace that is your pussy, creaming just for him.

“Yeah, come with me,” you huff, “please daddy.”

He thrusts up once.

Twice.

On the third you’re clenching and pulsating around him while he’s emptying all his cum inside you, all for you, just for you.

You’d momentarily forgotten all about the silky number that catalyzed tonight’s events – then you go to dismount and find the pretty material ruined from your combined spend. A hearty laugh bubbles from you and your Joel joins in, blissed out, enraptured and dazed.

“Guess we need to get you a new pair,” you joke.

“Matching his and hers?” He jokes back, but the way his eyebrows raise in intrigue say otherwise.

A week later, you’re in bed, online panties shopping while Joel’s showering. You grin to yourself at your plan: surprise Joel with matching panties.

Your mouth hangs open when you see that a matching pair has already been added to the cart, undoubtedly added by your Joel.

@pedrostories

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lola-writes · 3 months

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One-Eye & the Dreamer

(Aemond's POV)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x O.C Aylana Velaryon

Word Count: 2,2k

Themes & Warnings: slow burn, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers, violence, blood, targcest, sexual themes, tension, drama, angst, fix-it of sorts, eventual smut, sexual inexperience, forbidden love, high valyrian, dance of dragons, POV first person

Summary: Aylana Velaryon foresees Aemond Targaryen's fate and assigns herself to alter it.

Written from Aemond's POV.

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Gravity had nothing on us, my dear.

You can’t untie red strings of fate.

This is how it feels to fall in love with the atmosphere.

The world surrendered to a symphony of wind. Turbulence thundered in my ears and whipped my hair untamed as I ascended the skies. Rising higher and higher, the clouds enveloped me in a blinding haze, and the elements of the earth below decreased into a mosaic. I conquered the celestial at such speed that I felt like Aegon reborn.

Vhagar was an extension of myself, her undulating muscles beneath my straddling body felt as if connected to my own, forcing our masses through the heavens with an effortlessness. I commanded her higher still, and she heeded my command. We defied gravity in a dance of grace and power.

As we approached the stratosphere where air ran thin, I straightened in my saddle, and my mighty Vhagar leveled out, conforming to every delicate change in my movements. The world below became an inverted dreamscape as we sailed the vague interstice that marked the transition between sky and oblivion - the clouds beneath were the unconquered sky, and the indigo above was the ocean, and I was flying upside down.

Together, Vhagar and I, were limitless.

The memory of when I first claimed her was so potent it eclipsed everything else, real or imagined. It was like walking penniless and finding a mountain of gold at your feet. What was one to do with such power? A power so raw and exhilarating, it consumed. Suddenly, I had no fear. Suddenly, I was not alone…

I leaned into Vhagar’s warmth and she folded her wings against me. We plummeted back down towards the earth, a thrilling drop that sent a jolt of pure ecstasy through my veins. My stomach lurched, and beneath me, Vhagar’s thorax vibrated – a deep, primal roar that resonated through my very bones. In that moment, I mirrored her, a guttural exclaim of pure, unadultered joy escaping my lips.

Never had freedom tasted so sweet.

The force of our descent sliced through the nebulous clouds like a knife through cotton, and as we emerged, the Narrow Sea gaped wide, glittering beneath the noontide sun like a crystal embellished blue silk. I leveled out again and watched Vhagar’s twin loom out of the water.

In the distance, the seven huge drum-towers, proud sentinels of pale red stone, rose out of the sea on their stony summits, and the tolling bells welcomed me back home. An unfamiliar fleet of ships coasted down Black Water Rush like wooden beads along a blue mesh - an unremarkable observation, as nobles from every corner of the realm had been descending upon King’s Landing for the wedding. They had all come through the gates by horse and carriage, none by sea.

Traders perhaps? Coming just in time to fortify our stores for the upcoming plunder.

So many fucking mouths to feed. I had seen them endlessly pour through the castle gates in a river of gold, silver, and polished steel – their banners displaying the sigil of house Lannister, Baratheon, Tully, and I could’ve sworn I saw a direwolf banner among them. Would the Starks truly find a Targaryen wedding of such importance that they would bother dragging themselves out of their frozen pits? It was to be a grand affair, to be sure. A celebration with tourneys, hunts, feasts, and dancing, to last for at least a fortnight.

If I had it my way, I would escape and race the wind on Vhagar. But mother’s orders were a bittersweet curse. We were to be on our best behavior, a euphemism for me babysitting my nuisance of a brother, to ensure he does not imbibe every wine cask in the keep, and to hearten my sweet sister who always grew gauche in social gatherings.

One could hardly fathom I was the youngest.

But the chief of my worries was Aegon. He already had an inclination of getting unreasonable drunk on a plain day. I shuddered to think of the lengths he might go to in tribute to his own nuptials.

Unease filled my gut.

But it wasn’t the vigil of my siblings that rendered me apprehensive.

As I drew close enough that I could make out the banners, I realized that these were no ordinary trading ships. In fact, these weren’t traders at all. I tugged at the reins and Vhagar gathered air beneath her leather and sprung up high, casting her mighty shadow atop the vessels.

Memories consumed me like a bad aftertaste. The sigil-emblazoned sails draped across the masts below needed no introduction. The seahorse and the three-headed black dragon caught the wind.

It could only mean one thing…

The thought got knocked right out of me as a bone-jarring impact to Vhagar’s thorax threw me off my saddle. Her earsplitting roar resounded across the blackwater, as I tumbled down her back. Instinctively, I snagged my wrist through a loop in her saddle ropes, dangling precariously until she steadied herself. I hauled myself back up, heart hammering in my chest, adrenaline pouring into my bloodstream. I scouted the skies for an attacker in a glassy bewilderment, growing acrimoniously aware of my disability. But the firmament was still and empty.

What in the Seven Hells?

Another blow. It knocked me aslant, and I felt fury consuming me like poison. Gritting my teeth, I gripped the saddle horn and twisted the reins twice ‘round my forearm, and perceived every muscle of Vhagar’s back contracting beneath me, waiting to charge.

Who would dare challenge me?

A flicker of movement caught my eye. A shape, shrouded beneath Vhagar’s wing membranes, was soaring alongside us. And when I turned to look, my eye met a stranger, masked and cloaked, stalking us on a dragon as black and swift as a raven. But the beast was miniscule in relation, just the age to breathe fire, and yet had nearly forced me to meet the gods.

Humiliation morphed into a blinding rage that seethed through my veins and marred my vision with a red mist. “Ossēnagon, Vhagar!” Kill. I growled, and steered her toward the trespasser. But the figure crouched down in their saddle, and their dragon dove towards the city.

Fucking craven.

We went after them. Their descent was swift and inaudible, while mine was slow and thunderous like a moving mountain. The pale orange rooftops of King’s Landing, bleached from the summer’s scorching sun, spread out like a vast rust beneath our darkening shadows. I pursued them to the Hill of Rhaenys, where we landed opposite each other outside the crypts of the dragonpit.

Dismounting, I started towards them, each step a measured threat. The steel of my dagger sang its lethal warning as I drew it from my scabbard. But the stranger stood their ground, defiance flickering in their shadowed form. My anger, already a simmering cauldron, boiled over. I closed the distance between up, a growl ripping from my throat, raw and primal.

“You!” The word barely a breath before my blade bit their throat. A desperate struggle ensued, but my palm collared the nape of their neck, locking them to the steel. A Kingsguard’s alarming exclaims sounded in the distance, but the words faded underwater.

“The Stranger requests an audience.” The contiguity drowned my voice into a whisper. I took pleasure in that I towered over them, and felt their hot, humid breath against me, hitching beneath the sharp edge.

“My prince!” Ser Harrold Westerling, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, came running towards us. His voice, booming like thunder, always sufficed in snapping the whole court to attention. But it wasn’t his timber which stirred me this time. “Let her go!”

His words carried me out of my raging inferno.

Her?

I blinked through my apprehension and scavenged the stranger’s frame with my eye, as if I’d awoken from a dream and seen them for the first time. A tug, a rustle, and their hood fell back and settled around their shoulders.

A wave of ice ran down my spine.

It was like seeing a ghost. The protagonist of all my nightmares coming alive, ready to haunt me.

Aylana Velaryon.

Her eyes, the color of sunlit amber flicked with gold, held mine with an unsettling intensity. She seemed to see right through me, demanding answers I could not provide. Then, a knowing smile played on her lips.

“Skoros iksos pirta, kepus?” What’s wrong, uncle? A sardonic edge laced her voice. “Gaomagon ao daor gīmigon issa?” Do you not remember me?

The words hit me like a physical blow. I swallowed, stunned by her High Valyrian.

For a moment, I believe I stood petrified, unable to tear my gaze from her, unable to utter a word.

A torrent of questions, accusations, apologies – years of unspoken turmoil – churned within me. But now, with her life literally in my hands, the words deserted me. My tongue, usually an agile weapon, felt like lead. This was the person who had haunted my every waking and sleeping thought for years, and all I could manage was a stunned silence. Perhaps my countenance spoke volumes where my voice failed.

She echoed the girl I remembered, but time had woven its changes. I had to take it all in. Her voice, saccharine and laced with a hint of mockery, was a stark contrast to the playful child I held in memory. Her once youthful features had sharpened, cheekbones higher, lips fuller. Then, my gaze, fell upon the one jarring element – a crimson scar that snaked across her left eyebrow, expressing a raw pink sheen beneath a shell of transparent skin. Years had passed, yet the wound looked fresh.

The accident.

My jaw tightened as venom seethed through my veins.

I could still see her crumpled, lifeless form in the dirt, her skull cracked open, every time I closed my eye.

And I was holding the bloody rock.

Shame coiled in my gut like a suffocating weight. I could not bear to look at her.

“Some things never change,” she said facetiously. “Don’t you agree, uncle?”

Shit.

I was still holding my knife to her throat. I recoiled with such force that the effort pushed her back as well. A bright seam of red welled up at the lip where my blade had kissed her and painted the length of her neck like dark fruit.

I reviled myself. I had tried to kill her. Again.

But she just smiled, a dimple flashing in her cheek. As if we were still kids and she had made a humorous jest.

I realized I had been holding my breath when a gasp escaped my lips and air rushed back into my lungs. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy.

“Aylana.” I spoke her name derisively without intending to, as I sheathed the knife at my waist where my gaze lingered a moment, dreading to meet hers.

My stomach turned. I never used to call her that. It sounded so formal and distant on my tongue, just like ‘uncle’ on hers. But that’s what we were to each other now - our friendship no more than a distant memory. I no longer assumed myself worthy of her alias. I had lost that privilege. Just as I had lost my friend.

The weight of the past pressed down on me, suffocating.

Agitation infiltrated my mind and my whole disposition must have come off as reticent and hostile. I watched her pull her gloves off finger by finger and release the clasp of her cloak. There was an attitude in her movements and a poise in her posture. Beneath she was dressed in sable flying leathers that clung tightly to her body.

I averted my gaze.

Frustration clawed at my chest, and whatever other feeling it was that made my mouth dry and my palms clammy.

“You look well, nuncle,” she said.

My eye met hers and I noted them briefly flicker across my eyepatch. Her scrutiny made the leather singe my skin with awareness. Growing diffident, I looked away.

“Hmmph,” I said, my favorite expression of disdain.

I knew what she was implying. That if I had only listened to her that night, instead of acting like an arrogant scoundrel, I wouldn’t be looking like a eunuch with one eye at present.

And she was right in mocking me. If her insults were the currency for my betrayal, I would gladly become a spendthrift.

My breathing shallowed as I gazed at the damage I’d caused. I had to get out of there.

“I hope we did not frighten you earlier,” she said, interrupting my escape. “I only thought I might test the mettle of the largest dragon in the world. She truly is remarkable. A fair exchange, to be sure.”

I turned to look at her, and I didn’t know what I must’ve looked like, because the playful smile that had been dancing between her lips our entire encounter, vanished. There it is, I thought. The realization. The Aemond you knew is gone. This is the monster you forged.

“Ser Harrold,” I said. “Escort the princess to the Red Keep. And make sure she does not test the mettle of anyone else in the city.”

“Certainly, my prince,” said Ser Harrold, the Lord Commander who was the very first person to see my face after the loss of my eye. This fact made him remarkably significant somehow.

I mounted Vhagar and took to the sky, watching Aylana and Nymax blur into mere specks on a canvas.

This would be a celebration I was sure to remember…

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stubz · 6 months

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"You said you'd be better after the Tri-Eclipse festival, when we all come back from vacation."

"Yeah that's right."

"Will you promise me that you'll run with me when we get back?"

"...I'll do my best. Yeah. I'll do my best buddy."

"Max when we get back after the holidays will you run with me?"

"Yeah. I'll start training, practice running."

"Oh yeah, cause it's been a long time since you ran."

"Yeah...almost 2 months...wow."

"Got any plans for the 2 weeks we get off?"

"Yeah I'm gonna train."

"Train for what?"

"Running. I told the kids I'd run with them when we get back."

"Aww that's cute. But yeah you need to test things out right? Start off slow so as to not overdue it when you play with them again."

"Yeah...wanna hear something funny?"

"Sure."

"I, I miss running. I know I said I hate running and that I only ran with the kids because it's good exercise but...I miss it." he puts down his fork. Staring at his plate of food from the ship's cafeteria. He continues.

"I had a dream last night. I was on Earth, in a field of tall grass and flowers, it was summer. The sun was shining, a beautiful warmth on my skin, with a cool gentle breeze on my skin. I was barefoot. I could run and I ran for miles. I ran even after my lungs were on fire, even when the sun went down...I miss running."

"Mmm"

...

Going on field trip. Yanosh came early so we took the noon shuttle. Come as soon as you can. Shuttle A-11.

'I didn't know we had a field trip today.' he thought after reading the text Kim sent.

He grabbed his hoodie and the other emergency bag and made his way to the shuttles. Luckily the A-11 was an express and he would be wherever it was going in 20 minutes.

12 minutes into the ride he noticed that they were approaching Earth.

....

Turn left in 200 meters...You have reached your destination.

"...ha haha hahahahaha! Are you guys serious?!"

"Surprise Max!!"

In front of the young man was his class of youngling alien children (with a handful of humans ones), co-worker and friend. Standing in a field of tall grass and flowers. Yanosh and Kim held a banner saying congratulations.

"I know you've been training in the gym but I thought you'd want your first real run to be somewhere...special."

He scooped his friend into a hug. Then pulled in the children until they were all sent crashing down into a pile full of laughter and giggles.

"You ready?"

"Yeah, yeah definitely!"

"READY KIDS?!"

"YEAH!"

"LET'S GOOO!"

And for the first time in 2 months human Max ran. Past the slowest ones first. He tried to pat every one of them on the head as he flew bye. Broke through the pack of the average runners. A laugh trailed behind him. One by one surpassed the faster one's. His unused lungs somehow allowing him to whoop in-between pants.

He raced every child. Played every game he could not play before. Carried those who longed to be carried again. He ran despite the burning in his lungs and the sweat in his eyes. He ran through the pain in his feet and the exhaustion in his body until he collapsed.

Laying there in the dirt surrounded by the children and his friend he smiled. And he wore that smile in his sleep on the way back to the centre.

#for those who don't know #I fractured my ankle Feb 1st and haven't ran since #and the kids at work understood that and never begged me to try #but #today I had C and J come up to me asking to run with them after spring break cause I'll be able to then #and that hit me in the feels #the two first convo in the story are the one's I had today!!#and the dream stuff?#actually had that dream and damn it made me miss running #so now Im gonna train and stuff so as to not let these kids down! and to not mess anything up #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans in space #the adventures of kim and max running a space child centre

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realisticpregerotica · 21 days

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Miss Labor Day

Summary: Offered a dubious, though life changing opportunity, Jane participates in a competition to see which mother to be can hold back the birth of their children the longest.

MDNI 18+

Content: 4.7k words, First person POV, drug induced labor, orgasmic birthing.

I was DM’ed by an old friend one night leading up to the event. They were looking for pregnant women for their event. I heard that these pre-labor day events were slowly growing, hell, some of them even made it to local radio stations.

The amount of money was life changing, not just for a newly single mother down on her luck, but this would fund every financial woe facing me and my unborn child! Sure, the events felt a little fetish-y, but anything could be. All of the events I saw were attended with parents and their young kids! What was the harm if it was PG and if I was kept anonymous?

An email and a phone interview later said I was registered to be a contestant on Labor Day Monday. It was a strain to travel in my state, but a break was what maternity leave was for, right?

The caller had me record the time and location. Slowed by my waddle, fatigue, and frequent bathroom breaks I finally found backdoor C. I had arrived less than an hour before the event.

Before I knocked, coordinators flooded out of the door and anxiously ushered me inside. They opened every door and took my bags. and pulled out all of the chairs in front of a line of mirrors all covered with ring lights that illuminated all of our attires. Above all of the wardrobes and the passing of makeup people and costume designers were the banners that symbolized the 23rd anniversary of ‘Miss Labor Day. Around were banners and a crude insignia of a company,‘The Maternity Ward’.

A pink paper bag was on the table as they left.

It made sense! these events were usually cutesy swimsuits, I expected the judges to be adorable old ladies commenting on the mothers to be. The thoughts soothed my nerves of the anxious rush inside and I thought of how the outfit would look as I took off my loose maternity wear. In private I covered myself from head to toe, trying to hide away the harsh realities of my changing body.

Immediately, my eyes dropped when I found the orange two piece. There wasn’t enough skin covered to modestly shelter my swelling curves and the outfit wasn’t fashionable enough to make the excessive amount of skin worth it. The top was clearly designed for a woman less busty than one about to breastfeed, my boobs were spilling from the sides! And the worst of the outfit came when I looked down

My stomach was large enough to hide the bottoms out of sight entirely, giving the impression that I was completely bottomless. My only reassurance that I was being covered at all was feeling the cloth hug my hips and embarrassingly growing ass. Yet, the space between my legs was cold. With my legs slightly parted from the sheer mass of my midsection, I stared at my behind in the mirror and immediately shut my legs in horror.

These bottoms left my pussy completely exposed!

My cheeks flushed from the exposure. This had to have been a mistake… A problem with the wardrobe people, yeah! I had to get it figured out, the event was ready to start at any moment.

I needed to find somebody. Quick!

The ceiling lights eclipsed over my head. I turned to see the blockage of the light and came face to face with a mountainous sphere inches away from my lips. I darted away, finding myself standing against the counter and face to face with a beautiful woman. She was large, no shorter than 200cm with a presence to match. Her dark skin and large, full hair made my heart skip a beat with a warm smile on her full lips.

“You have to be the last contestant. Nice to meetcha-” Her eyes focused on my nametag.

“-Average Jane!”

“Y-you too!” I stuttered, my face quickly flushing.

God, she was totally my type. The definition of her abs remained even after the heaviness of her belly hung between her hips, though she had the strength to hold the weight of her unborn child with stability. I swallowed “It’s a little vanilla, isn’t it?”

“Is anything about us vanilla, hun?” she smiled, letting one arm rest comfortably against her tight, heavy stomach. The paper slip around her neck read ‘Muscle Mommy’. The name definitely fit, however outdated it was. She sported a workout bra and between her exercise tights. Her dark skin was exposed with a large slit between her legs, no different from being naked, I averted my eyes and blushed at her calm disposition.

“Mufu~ Is this who we were waiting on?” Another woman spoke from the edge of the hallway. Her blonde hair was covered by a black shawl with a black gown and a white blouse. Across her collarbone above her own huge round that pushed out explicitly from her gown was a catholic cross. My eyebrow furled at the blatant contradiction, causing me to evaluate her whole appearance.

Whether it was the tightness of the blouse and the slit opening to expose her thighs, any depiction of a nun would have made this appearance sacrilege. She cocked her head, looking down at me.

“An example will certainly be made of her, shortly. That baby looks seconds away from flying out of her. The only woman larger than her-”

“Would be me!” Said a high voice with a distinct accent. A smaller girl with a comically large belly came between us carrying her stomach as she approached us. Her sun kissed skin shined with her long, jet black hair. Her neck and wrists were dawned with turquoise beads and a humble ponytail, she looked… pure. Holy even! Especially compared to the last contestant! An open midriff and a white bikini top that fit her smaller chest, her white skirt wasn’t bordered with underwear.

“My goddess has bestowed the privilege of bearing life.” Her hands hovered over her own tag with disappointment. “I am to be called Pele, but this name is a disservice to her, but I will wear her name as her devout supporter.”

From behind the rest of the cast was a woman with a quiet presence with incredibly sharp features with an incredibly round stomach that jutted from her clothing as she stretched. A Central Asian woman with indigo and gold of her loose clothing displayed her incredible flexibility in front of a full body mirror. She had beautiful, high cheekbones and almond eyes of my platonic idea of a vixen. She seemed to have been caught off guard by the sudden eyes on her. Meekly, she waved, saying something in a foreign language and pointed to her tag.

‘Acro-bab’

Muscle Mommy threw her arm around my shoulder, making me sit straight up. Maternity looked downright stunning on each of these women “Any lady who has gotten this far has a real chance of winning. This isn’t anything compared to motherhood!

Before we could interact any longer a woman wearing a headset poked her head into the fitting room. “Ladies, it’s go time!”

We were ushered behind a closed curtain and told to stand behind taped ‘x’s on the floor. The curtain lifted, letting in spotlights and exposing the dozens of people in masks. Ladies in scrubs hid out on the corners away from the sight of the audience

Though facial features couldn’t be made out articles of clothing were missing, bare legs, chests, bras. A roar of cheers erupted as the audience turned in their seats, visibly aroused at the sight of our round exposed bodies.

I wanted to cover my body. This… This was not the PG event that I had expected it to be.

A man in a tophat and a monocle stood before the crowd. He appeared far younger than his by his attire as he introduced each of us. His mid Atlantic accent was the perfect voice for radio. “Now, to our main event. With special thanks to ‘The Maternity Ward’ for sponsoring our 23rd annual ‘Miss Labor Day’ event!”

What have I got myself into?

“In celebration of your endeavor, we present you with women willing to present their endeavor as they bring new lives into the world.” I looked around me. Everybody embraced the announcement with a smile, even Acro-bab flaunted her stomach proudly towards the crowd.

“Let us celebrate you in attendance and these mothers to be when we find out who will be the 23rd annual ‘Miss Labor Day!’”

There’s no way…

Men dawned in black and white stripes blocked either side of the stage and approached each of the women with a gigantic needle into various parts of their bodies. The needles disappeared into Mommy's forearm, the contortionist’s collar, and even into Pele’s belly with no regard for the unborn residents inside.

I felt queasy remembering all of the blood I had drawn throughout my pregnancy. I leaned away from the rest of the ladies and felt the cold prick of a needle enter the side of my neck. Icy fluid poured into my bloodstream.

The proximity from my head made me feel like the drug was injected straight into my brain. It lit up my entire body. I was hot, and I needed to spread this heat to somebody else. I looked to my stomach, “Mnnn-haaaa!” I whined as I felt my body keel over to address the sudden ache in my midsection.

My heart started to pound as all of the ladies around me had similar reactors. Fluttering eyelids, a biting of the lip, and blushes being worn on our cheeks. I could keep my eyes off the muscular woman, watching her body flush and tighten with all of the orgastic sensations claiming our bodies.

It took effort for me to still my legs. I had no idea how long had passed since the injection. My whole body started to light up as I struggled to stay upright. The room was spinning around me. I was so hot, all of these eyes on me. My pussy began to ache. Even with all of the eyes on me I craved feeling my fingers inside of me to relieve the growing pressure deep within.

“A-Ah!” I gasped. My baby jabbed a foot sharply through their shrinking home, harder than every fetal kick they had ever delivered before. My uterus fought back, clamping down against my unborn child in retaliation that doubled me over.

“Jane, you doin’ alright?” Muscle Mommy asked. I went to reply, but a string of consonants flowed from my mouth instead. Unpreventable sensations that resembled the same loss of control like the middle of an orgasm.

Before I knew it a squeal escaped my tight throat I felt fluids spill from me. I clasped my thighs as much as I could like I could catch my waters as it ruptured. Amniotic fluid pooled against the wooden floor below me. Everybody's eyes fell to me

I started this race in last place…

Before there was too much dead air Miracle Baby let out a gasp as well. Her knees trembled as a steady but modest stream of water began to drip between her legs as well. The sound of chains were muffled between her legs. I wasn’t the only person who noticed. The women in pink scrubs whispered something to the announcer.

“Mnnn-haaaa!” I couldn’t silence the noises coming from my mouth. All I could imagine were my inconsolable moans in the crowd of strangers. The contractions started from my back and worked their way to consume my entire midsection. Every second with the drug forcefully rammed my baby’s head into my ridgid cervix.

As the minutes passed the other ladies' water broke as well. Muscle Mommy’s dampened her tights as they spilled as she controlled her breathing. Pele’s exploded dramatically from between her legs, making everybody flinch; followed by the petite mother. And last was Acrobab, who slowly began to leak as she rolled her hips restlessly.

“O-o-oh fuUUCK!!” I cried as I clenched my stomach. Weeks of Braxton Hicks couldn't have prepared me for the hormone induced contractions that forcibly seized my muscles. Despite the pain, the unnatural urge to please this sensation between my hips overtook me.

There was no way I could feel like this, I was giving birth!

“Ah-ah-ah. Language.” The host commented, before I could retaliate I was slammed again.

“OHHH GODDD!!” I screamed as I felt my abused birth canal spread with the rigid body of my baby. I wanted relief, something, ANYTHING to take away the pain. Through squinted eyes I saw the line of women swaying gently. All but one woman, whose struggle relieved some of the pressure pounding it’s way into my birth canal.

“D-don't use the lord's name in vain.” Miracle Babe scolded. She wasn’t doing any better than I was. Her face was pale white as it dripped with sweat.

A painful contraction overtook her. The blond woman dropped to her knees and made her headdress fall. A throaty growl sounded from her throat as she held her thigh up and bore down with all of her might. The nurses whispered amongst each other and then to the officials while her teeth gnashed with the struggle of childbirth.

Audience members whispered as their strokes between their legs slowed. In front of the audience wasn’t her bare sex, but a strip of black leather that tightly wrapped around her.

The officials circled around her and threw her cheap dress over her sore, red stomach.

A leather belt bulged horrifically between her legs. There was tension as she was overwhelmed by another contraction. “UHHHHNNNNGGGHH!!!!” She screamed between clenched teeth. The belt trembled, fighting against her body's desire to expel the child inside of her stomach.

“Goodness, that must be a chastity belt. A ‘Miss Labor Day’ first!” The announcer sounded.

“That’s a blatant violation of the rules. With less excuses than, well, a pregnant nun!”

Nurses piled between her legs with scissors in their hands. Miracle Babe tried to crawl away, kicking her legs while overwhelmed by her contractions.

“P-please, not here, not now! It’s gonna come out!!'' she begged as they got between her legs. The trauma shears completed their cut The belt was snipped as Miracle Babe’s vagina was exposed. She was tattooed with tally marks above her upper thigh. Lord could only imagine what the count was. The ink took a backseat to the glistening crown embedded between her legs, and it was only getting bigger.

I watched her eyes grow wide.

“AAAAANNNNH!!! NOOOOO-!” she screamed as her hole unnaturally exploded into a full crown. She no longer had any control over her body. The drug demanded her baby would be born. Her back arched as she surrendered to the birthing drugs.

“HNNNNNNNNGGGGGHHHH!!!” The shoulder of the fake nun’s baby slipped free from their mother’s opening as the rest of the body hit the hard wood with a wet thud where she stood. The umbilical cord hung from her pussy to the floor where her baby wailed. Miracle Babe fell flat on her back with her legs opened towards the audience. Her eyes shot into the back of her head and her tongue shot out. Her poor baby squirmed between the legs of their incapacitated mother as the midwives pressed stethoscopes into the blonde woman’s stomach and took care of the child.

For the first time since the drug was injected into me I felt my body go limp with shock. There was a real baby, a real child from a long pregnancy that was carried by a woman whose name I didn’t even know. They really let her baby be born on stage!

“What an embarrassment to her faith.” Pele uttered with closed eyes. She sat cross legged, allowing the audience to gaze between her legs. Through the tightest slit in her vulva there was the shape of a head between her legs. Suddenly, she went quiet, entering a trance-like state of controlled inhales and exhales. It was as if she wasn’t resisting the drugs at all!

“Hoo… Hoo…” Acro-bab's chest began to heave. Before her beautiful face allowed her body to progress another moment for her labor her forearms fell to the floor and she arched her back.

My heart started to race seeing her shape in that downward facing position. Her lean body wore her appealingly disproportionate curves beautifully. Her breathy moans were eye-catching as her belly formed a polygon with every contraction. Through the power of gravity her baby was held in.

The other women were slowly affected as I writhed with agony on the floor. I tried my hardest to keep my knees clenched together. My thighs sandwiched themselves together

“Tight… Competition” Muscle Mommy said. I saw the corner of her lip twitch as her attention was pulled from her. I watched her muscular midsection seize with tremendous force. The uncontrollable contraction of all of her muscles bearing down to birth her child. “U-ung…” She groaned, as finally she was forced to a knee on the ground She spaced off into the distance to fight the urges of her body.

The competitor who was worse for wear had the head of an infant comfortably embedded between her legs. Pele kept her legs splayed open as she arched her back, with high pitched pants as she listened to her body’s desire to birth her child. An infant much smaller than the indication of her stomach peeked under her skirt.

She looked so peaceful, like she had prepared her entire life for this. The urgency of competition seemed completely lost on her.

Her chest arched towards the sky “Mnnnhhhhaaaa~!” She moaned with one final push, welcoming her child. The baby entered the world gently against the wooden surface.

“Pele has been eliminated!” The host announced. The young woman blinked away lusty cloudiness while she panted softly. Unbothered, she crawled over to her child and cradled them in their arms. She kissed her child’s head and let them latch to her breast whispering foggily with a satisfied smile.

Doulas surrounded her. The eyes of the woman carrying the stethoscope went wide, immediately rushing towards the announcer.

Though her womb had been emptied her stomach still laid especially round. The tiny woman drew a long breath, and with an exhale another pop of fluids gushed from between her thighs

“My-my folks! Pele has another child making their arrival today! She’s still in the competition.”. No wonder she was so smug! There was a backup baby inside of her!

With the other three ladies standing strong I felt so pathetic as I kicked against the floor. Every breath was agony. With every oxytocin induced contraction I could feel the head pound my cervix into painful dilation. I wasn’t sure if it was thousands of years of evolution that forced me to open my legs or the gigantic fucking head that just began to spread my lips apart.

As I looked to my side I saw the lean, powerful legs of the Acro-bab splayed open from her upside down position. Her face was red and sweaty, her grit teeth and tears made it clear she couldn’t hold her unbreakable position for long. The head of her baby emerged from the split between her legs.

I could see desperation in her eyes for a moment before she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

In an amazing display of control she sprawled her legs straight into a handstand, maintaining a perfect arch to hold her child upside down into her stomach. I imagined all of that weight and pressure fighting against gravity. I could imagine the rigid walls of her uterus tied in a compact knot as the crowning head receded back into her lips

“OWWWW, FUCK!” I screamed. I clutched my stomach as I felt something round press against my opening into the dry air. My shaky hands reached between my legs to feel the wet orb forcing my hips apart. My baby was being born. I couldn’t hold back much longer!

Then, I heard a moan from my left.

“Unnnngggghhhh!” She groaned with the loss of control. All the energy of her body was sapped by the drug. Her chest heaved up and down as hair fought to get into her lungs. The crown emerged from her skyward facing gash.

In her moment of complacency, Acro-bab slipped. Her legs dipped behind her head as her infant slid out cartoonishly to the side of her head. Her muscles relaxed, and her face relaxed into the same feeling of euphoria that Miracle Babe wore. She looked so ecstatic to finally be done with such a situation and the act of pregnancy. I envied her…

But now there were only two other competitors.

My breasts grew sore at the sound of Pele's baby coo softly. In an instant, Muscle Mommy and I knew what needed to be done.

Pele flinched as she leaned into the Muscle Mommy. “Oh, Goddess!” She pleaded as she arched into her competitor. Her foggy eyes were adorable as she continued to labor.

My hands found her lower belly. Fuck, she was beautiful. Not just for a woman in labor. But divine, like her body was made to deliver children as the second head began to peak towards me.

The area that had already been stimulated by the drugs and her first child. The uncontrollable shift in her muscles as another contraction was induced. “Pushhhh.” Just then, I felt my own contraction begin to bind my abdomen again. My hand dipped between her legs as I supported my weight around the beautiful tan skin of her belly.

“Goddess… Thank you…” she moaned quietly under her breath. Her eyes were barely cracked open. Her mind was outside of this plane; she allowed herself to enjoy every side effect of the drug. “I am humbled to give life in this bliss, Goddess…” I saw Muscle Mommy’s eye twinge from the feeling of the smaller woman’s body lay into her for support.

“Nnnhhhhgggggggg!!!” I moaned, feeling my baby’s head open into the world. I could feel my ether region split towards the crowd even through the resistance of my fingers as the skin of my entrance burned for the widest portion of my baby’s head.

But Pele was closer. She pushed all of her tiny body’s weight into her. Her little moans were adorable, the little sliver of a second hairy head spread her lips open. I could feel the muscles of her petite waist tighten as her tummy squeezed its round from out between her legs.

The sound of all three of our moans overlapped as we tried to hold back our labor. All except for Pele. Her voice peaked and gave one final push. The head in my hands popped with a gush around the ears. Her pussy clung onto the child, feeling every surface with a loud groan. Her modestly sized infant slid into my hands. Pele’s stomach finally deflated with a kiss of adorable postpartum pudge.

With Pele’s unconscious body between us. Muscle Mommy stared at me holding Pele’s baby. Her gaze was kind, but she knew she was firmly in the lead.

“May the best mommy win.” She winked as the young mother and her babies were assisted off stage.

Her body distracted me, her perfectly sculpted figure and all of her tight, muscular curves. I could only imagine how powerful the baby inside of her was. Her belly sat comfortably between her legs, allowing her baby’s head to be comfortably held into her pelvis.

I couldn’t move, my legs were forced open by my baby’s head. With every breath it felt like my child’s body would stretch me to capacity and I would finally give birth. She had amazing control over her pelvic floor. Her abs rolled in a display of strength that I only wished I could hold.

One more contraction overtook my body from my spine to my belly button. The muscles of my tired uterus guided my baby to my opening. “It’s coming!” I screamed. My pussy burned as I crowned. My baby’s head stretched me horrifically, I could feel my tight opening burn to accommodate the head.

“UNNNGGHHHH!!” I snarled through teary eyes and grit teeth. Muscle Mommy was before me, controlling her breathing while the head of her child had just started to peek through while I could feel my baby’s head dangle from the back.

My cheek hit the floor in defeat.

I submitted. I drew air into my chest and forced all of my strength into my belly. My baby’s body didn’t budge. I moved my heavy legs further apart, feeling the head of my partially birthed child dampen my thighs and arched my back to give into my body’s violent urge to deliver my child.

“URRRRRRNNNNGGGGHHH!!!” I cried with grit teeth, enough to make my swollen body tremble with the effort. All of the pressure transferred directly to my baby's shoulder, caught uncomfortably into my pelvis. My baby didn’t budge…

“A-aha!” I heard my voice fill the room. I didn’t even recognize my own voice.

“AHAAHAHAHAHA!!” My powerful laughs shook my body, and even as my heavily pregnant body rumbled my baby’s shoulders didn’t budge.

“It’s stuck!” I laughed maniacally. No matter what I did my baby was stuck! The drama of the moment took hold of me. The prize, the competition, all social convection and inhibitions crumbled in the time it took for me to deliver the rest of my child. For a moment, nothing else mattered! I wasn’t guaranteed a damn thing, and I was going to enjoy these final moments before I became a mother.

I closed the distance between myself and the muscular woman. I was close enough to see. I pulled her into my body and into a kiss with all of the pent up feelings for the beautiful mother before me.

“J-Jane?” She asked as I crawled towards her with a blush and heavy breaths. I was within arms length before I reached out, holding her face and running my fingers through her hair. “You’re so pretty.”

The drug had been taking a toll on her too as she accepted my kiss. Her plush lips made me want to sink my hands into her laboring body as I made out with her. Muscle Mommy’s belly was so gigantic and as hard as steel, but under my fingertips I could feel those muscles surrender. “Mmmfff!” She cried under my lips. She drew deep breaths that were stifled by a deep kiss against her neck.

I could feel her powerful abs bear down with the pressure. All of her weight pressed into my stomach. I could feel the fruits of her pregnancy squeeze me. Her hungry hips thrusted into my hands while I played with her opening pussy

Our tongues wrapped around each other and I could feel her face tighten with effort. “MMMMNNNNFFFFGHHHH!!”

I stroked her face as the strong woman melted into a maternal puddle in my arms. I held her baby’s head, feeling the power behind her final push from on top of my body. From against my womb I felt her baby exit as she, too, fell limp against my body.

Her baby laid between our legs.

“Ladies and gentleman, with a massive upset, your winner of the 23rd official Miss Labor Day- Average Jane! ” More midwives rolled in with a gurney and towels to assist Muscle Mommy off of the floor. The announcer approached me with a trophy and a gigantic check. But I was preoccupied .

The shutter of cameras caught me with my back on the floor with a trophy hoisted in my arms. I toyed with my clit with a midwife on either side of me, aware to keep myself open for the money shot.

With the final pulse of the drug my child’s shoulder was freed by the assisting hands around me. “OUUUUGGHHHHHH!!” My legs flew into the air, the drug peaked induced my climax and the birth of my child as an orgasm tore through my entire body. The primal sensation of labor peaked as my baby’s shoulder exploded from between my legs.

I heard my child cry right beside me as nurses assisted me off the stage. I knew my life had changed forever when I began to wonder how many times I would be Miss Labor Day.

#preg kink #maiesiophilia #pregnant #birth kink #birth #birth fic #preg #pregblr

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scoonsalicious · 6 months

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Unwanted: Chapter 15, Undermined - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Jade Carthage (she's a warning), delusions.

Word Count: 661

Previously On...: You confronted Sam to question him about Bucky's claim that he happens to get hard when he fights. Fortunately, it seems like he was telling you the truth... about that, at least.

A/N: Ah, tis my final day of Spring Break. Back to regular life tomorrow, and no further breaks until the end of the school year :( Well, we have Memorial Day and now Juneteenth, so that's something, but it's still gonna be a loooong 11 weeks :/ But I gladly welcome the better weather. Did anyone watch the eclipse? I'm in the path of totality, but I slept through it, I think lol. It was cloudy here, anyway, so I didn't even notice.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

True to his word (almost as though he were actually trying to make it a habit), Bucky kept his distance from Carthage. Several times, FRIDAY had alerted you that Bucky and Jade had crossed paths somewhere within the Tower, and you would review the footage with bated breath, always expecting to see the worst, as if they would strip off their clothes and start fucking in the common room. But you were relieved to see that he continued ignoring her, acting as though she truly did not exist, and it seemed to be driving her mad with vexation.

She was so perturbed by it that she eventually came to you looking for a way to get to him.

“I need to talk to Jamie,” she said, interrupting you mid-conversation with one of the scientists in your lab.

“Okay,” you said, dismissing the scientist. No reason multiple people should have to suffer through this. “Then talk to him. It’s a free country.”

“He isn’t speaking to me,” she pouted. “He’s acting like I don’t exist!”

“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” you told her, trying to keep the smile from your face. “I’m not sure what you want me to do about it. Or that I’d actually want to do anything about it, even if I could, if I’m being completely honest.”

“I just don’t know what I did wrong!” she whined. You sneered at that. How could she be so completely lacking in self-awareness? Especially to come to you, of all people, after the things she’d texted to Bucky, after trying to destroy your relationship.

“Would you like the list alphabetically, or in chronological order?” you asked.

She rolled her eyes at you. “You know, you should have just stayed away from him. Everything would have gone according to plan if he wasn’t so fucking obsessed with you.”

“According to plan?” you asked her, eyebrows shooting to the top of your forehead. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”

Jade seemed to stumble for words. “I– he– you knew I liked him when I first interviewed. And just to get back at me because I was maybe a little bit rude to you, you went and stole him for yourself!”

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. You wondered if you should ask Tony for a raise, because while you were paid extraordinarily well, you sure as shit weren’t paid enough to deal with this. “Listen, Carthage,” you began, “because I’m just going to tell you this once: My relationship with Bucky started long before either one of us ever even knew of your existence.” Technically not a lie, just a small fudge on the truth. Friendship was a type of relationship, after all. “And it’s going to keep going long after both of us have forgotten your name.”

“You don’t understand what you’re putting me through!” she cried, tears forming at the waterline of her eyes.

You stared at her for a moment, unblinking. “What I’ve put you through?!” you asked her, clenching your fists to keep from punching her in that annoyingly pretty face– you knew that would lead to a fist fight you had no chance of winning. “You have been nothing but a thorn in my side since the moment you first walked into this Tower. Before you showed up, I was the happiest I’d ever been, but you had to come along and try to sink your claws into the man I love. You ruined my relationship; fuck, you ruined my life.”

You didn’t know what effect you expected your words to have on Jade, but you weren’t prepared for her insidious smile as you finished speaking. “Maybe you should be asking yourself, if Jamie loved you as much as you love him, why your relationship was so easy to ruin.”

With a flip of her hair over her shoulder, she was gone, leaving you alone, speechless and freshly betrayed all over again.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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fairyringsandwings · 2 months

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Starlight Chapter 7 Sneek Peek! 😏

Summary: What if Osha and Qimir never left The Jedi Order

Osha knows she is dreaming.

She can feel the tether slithering around her limbs, gently pulling her from a dreamless slumber to the waiting arms of darkness.

When she opens her eyes, she finds herself in a darkened throne room.

Upon an oval podium sits two thrones. They are illuminated by moonlight pouring in through the mosaic window behind them, the stages of an eclipse captured within the glass. Straining her eyes, Osha can make out crimson banners cascading down the walls on either side of the vast room, the crest of The Sith proudly embroidered upon them in black thread.

What is this place? Osha wonders, an uneasy feeling trickling down her spine.

"It's a possibility," That cold, metallic voice calls out. Osha sees The Stranger then, standing between the thrones as he steps into the moonlight. "Or an inevitability, depending on who you ask." He tilts his head, his voice turning appreciative. "You look beautiful in that dress. It suits you."

Osha glances down.

The gown she wears is as dark as a sunless ocean, the edges detailed with silver embroidery. It has an off-shoulder neckline, dramatic bell sleeves, and a trailing skirt that flares as she moves. Upon her waist is an alloy belt, forged in the shape of a willow tree's branches, the leaves detailed by tiny emeralds. It is there that her lightsaber is secured, attached by a magnetic clip at her hip. Her hair feels longer too, her locs resting over one shoulder, adorned by silver flowers and stars. There is a diadem upon her head, hidden below her fringe.

It is an outfit fit for a Queen, more luxurious than anything Osha has ever worn.

"No," The Stranger corrects the thought, taking a step forward. His hand caresses the arm of the left throne. "It's a gown fit for an Empress."

Second snippet

"Have you told him about us?"

"There is no us," Osha grits out. "Not now. Not ever."

"Would you consider it?" The Stranger asks, his voice deadly soft. "If I were a Jedi like him?"

Osha ignites her lightsaber.

#the acolyte #oshamir #oshmir #osha x qimir

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mintmatcha · 1 year

Text

ennoshita x reader

cw: cisfem reader, intercrucal sex, fingering, shower sex, established relationship

Minors DNI banner by @/benkeibear

takes place 6 months after just the tip

“You know what I’m going to say.”

You try to play off your smile as annoyance, rolling your eyes with a shake of your head. You drop your bags by the foot of the bed and shed your coat, letting it crumple on the floor. “I’m going to take a shower. I remembered to bring conditioner this time.”

“You wouldn’t have to remember conditioner-” Ennoshita sing-speaks, watching you from his spot on the top of the mattress- “if you’d just move in.”

You exchange knowing looks. The idea makes something glimmer inside your chest, shiny and exciting. Your relationship is inching towards the year mark; moving in together is the obvious next step, especially when your lease is ending in two months.

You’re going to give in and live here, obviously.

But it’s fun to tease him.

“Hmm, nope,” you shrug, “I like my apartment.”

“I could move into your place,” Ennoshita replies too easily. He’s already prepared for bed, pajamas on and hair washed. It’s still early, but tomorrow’s a work day and he needs to be up early for the clinic.

“And commute an hour to work?” you scoff, “You’d hate that.”

He smiles with his eyes, real and true. “I’d love other parts of it.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” you ask, “Seeing me change?”

As you shimmy your jeans past your hips Ennoshita shifts, moving ever so slightly in the corner of your vision. He tilts his head just a couple of degrees to watch you move with an uninhibited view, smiling slipping down, down, down, until his bottom lip catches between his teeth, pearly white against the deep hue of his vermilion.

“That’s one benefit.”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

His eyes crease with amusement, narrowing into half moons, sharp and hungry. “Like what?” he says, an edge of teasing on his voice as he adjusts deeper in his seat, legs spreading almost on their own as if you wordless invite you in. You step out of your pants, then strip off your shirt as well. Your underwear is the practical kind, skin tone with too much coverage, and yet he still reveres you all the same, that pearly clutch only growing tighter the more he marvels.

“Like you’re gonna eat me.”

Your boyfriend's smile only grows. “Come here and maybe I will.”

You take a delicate step backwards, hands reaching behind your own back to unclasp your bra.

“No.” You let it fall and his eyes latch on to the curve of your tits, “You come here.”

When you dip around the corner, the bed creaks with the sudden release of weight and Ennoshita is quick to follow, fingers nimbly undoing his shirt buttons as he pursues you, sure yet patient, like a wolf on the hunt. By the time you make it to the bathroom, he’s eclipsing you; his bare chest presses into yours, squishing your tits against him as he catches you in a kiss.

The physical contact between you has developed. It’s more natural now, with edges of neediness that are so sharp that you think he might break-

But he hasn’t.

Not that you’re upset. You cum more often than most of your friends, but you still find yourself craving a good hard fuck-

Especially in times like this, where you can feel his cock starting to harden against your stomach.

“I really do need a shower, Chichi,” you mumble halfheartedly.

Ennoshita chuckles at the nickname, only squeezing you tighter. His eyes sparkle under the overhead light, their color melting into the black of his pupil, endlessly dark, yet bottomless with pure affection. You’d never tell him this to his face in fear that he’d take it the wrong way, but they remind you of a cow's eyes, soft and sweet and large, with deep lower lids and thick eyelashes that sweep downwards over his iris.

“Go ahead," he says, "I’ll wash your back.”

You love him. The ooey, gooey kind that sticks to your ribs and keeps you full well into the night. It makes you a little sick to think about, like you could choke on it if you swallow the wrong way.

You let him peel the rest of your clothes from your body and you return the favor, both of you naked in the door of his bathroom and bare to each other. The tile is cold against the soles of your feet, but the rest of you is warm.

“Stop doing that,” you scold as Ennoshita departs with a kiss. He starts the tub, testing the heat with his fingertips every couple of seconds, rushing the water to heat faster.

“Doing what?” he hums.

“Being so sweet.” Steam is already starting to cling to the mirror as you both step into the tub and pull the curtain back. The warm spray pulls a sigh from both of you as you settle, facing the shower with Ennoshita to your back. He maintains a boundary, but you can feel him there, moving in the space right off of your skin, electric in anticipation it builds.

“I’m sorry," he says with no remorse in his voice. His lips brush over the nape of your neck, breath cool in contrast to the steam. "Can I make it up to you?”

You lean back, head against his shoulder, damp hair clinging to his skin as you try to see his face. The drum of water against your chest dulls your hum, steals the playful sounds in your throat as he finally touches you, pushing his hands up your sides until they are cupped under the curve of your tits. He lifts them slightly with the press of his fingers and you can feel how he swallows against you, thick with desire.

”Can I?” he asks again. His touch travels up, greedy hands squeezing and pinching at your nipples, the slickness of water gliding between your skin. “Can I make you feel good?”

You nod and press back into him to savor the soft comfort of how his hands wander. One still cups at your chest while the other dips low, fumbling to part your pussy. His middle finger curls and bumps over your clit a bit too roughly as he tries to find it, eager yet clumsy. A runnel of warm water follows his arm, the flow pleasantly warm where it moves against you and the trickle between your legs teasing.

With tentative circles, he falls into a rhythm, brushing over your hooded clit over and over as he mouths the back of your neck. The build up is slow, but there, and your hips wiggle reflexively against him when the urn becomes too much. His cock is now fully hard and nestled into the dip of your ass. It kicks in time with your whines.

“Chikara, ah-” You cling to his wrist, holding him in just the right place as heat overtakes your senses. Wantonly, you throw your foot on to the rim of the tub, knocking over bottles to give him more space to maneuver. He uses the space to stroke you more freely, in neater, cleaner motions.

“Right there, like that.” Your core tightens and you suddenly feel more empty than ever.

The longer you wait, the more ravenous for him you’ve become, your ache to be fucked almost physically painful some days.

“Move in and I’ll do this every night.” Ennoshita’s voice drips with want, “M-make you cum all you want. All you need.”

He pulls you closer. “Just say yes.”

You throw him a look. “You can’t ask now, that’s not f-air.” You squeak out the last syllable as he squeezes his other hand, grip slipping against the slick fat of your tit.

“Move in.” His teeth nips at the back of your neck, “And I’ll-” He stumbles over his words, then refocuses, voice firm, “I’ll fuck you.”

Shock stiffens your spine straight. He’s never suggested breaking his rule. Sure, you’ve skirted the line many times before, but you’ve never fully broken it. It’s his boundary to cross and, despite how much you want him, you’ve never pushed him on the issue.

“Chi-”

“I want to.” He interrupts your worry by rutting his hips into your ass, water lubing his cock as it moves between your cheeks, “Fuck, I want to.”

He readjusts and you’re greeted by the firmness of his cock, pressing through the petals of your cunt. He grips on to your hips, tight enough flesh bulges through his fingers, and drags you back across his length. With every movement, he swallows back a groan, chest high and heavy with sounds he doesn’t want you to hear. Everything between you is slick from the shower, but when you look down, the head of his dick is glazed with thicker, shinier excitement. You are still pulsing, so close to your own high, and you wonder if he can feel your pussy twitching against him.

“I think about it all the time,” he says, voice fucked past the point of recognition, “Holding you like this. Giving you what you want.”

He pulls back and pushes forward, faux-fucking you at a slow, controlled tempo. The shower provides its own lube, mixing with your own body’s excitement to ease his thrusts through the valley of your thighs.

“What you need.”

He pressed on your lower back to angle your hips forward and suddenly the sensation changes. The ridge of his cock catches against the sensitive bump of your clit, pulling another shock of pleasure from you. Each stroke makes you jump, pushing on to your heels with a whine. The rhythm is just enough for you to both get lost in it, hopelessly, aimlessly grasping for each other.

“I’m honestly obsessed with you,” he teases, throwing your own words from way back when back at you.

Tight heart builds in you with every stroke, pulling infinitely stronger until every muscle in your body is taut in anticipation.

This isn’t enough, you realize. You need just a bit more.

You bring your leg back to the ground and cross your ankles, squeezing your thighs together tight. Ennoshita chokes at the sudden sensation, hips stuttering against your ass with sharp, wet claps. The new tension means his member smushed against you and every vein and ridge and texture is apparent with each rut into the makeshift pussy your legs have formed.

“Oh, shit-” he grits out, head dropping to your shoulder and arms wrapping around you tight, locking you in place against him, “Shit-

He spills on to your thighs with a mangled sob, cock jerking with each ribbon of spend. His whole body flushes with heat, all the way down to his shaking thighs. The feel of him, the sound of him, it's insanely hot, but your stomach still sinks as your own high starts to drift away.

"Did you cum?" he asks after a moment. Ennoshita trails sweet kisses down the curve of your spine as he lets you go, cock still locked between your thighs.

You shrug, trying to reach awkwardly behind you for him. "No, but it's fine."

Ennoshita pauses. "No." He runs his fingers through the last remnants of his cum that cling to your thighs, "It's not."

Slicked fingers find their way back to you, dipping deep within your folds to roll your clit. This time, he’s more confident, playing with you faster, needier, pulling whines out of you much easier than before. The feel of his spend adds to the delight, everything about both of you just wet, wet, wet.

The position is awkward, but he still manages to reach around and work his fingers into you, pushing his cum deep inside you. The fullness gives you a tremendous release, but also stokes the fire, forcing you to want more and more- more of him, more of his cum inside you-

“Where it belongs,” he says, as if he can read your mind, and you nod in agreement. Yeah, inside you is where it belongs.

Ennoshita grinds the heel of his palm into your cunt and it’s all suddenly too much. The string inside you breaks and you cum, hard. The sensation makes you sob, pulling in air so hard that you inhale the shower stream and you immediately erupt into a coughing fit. Ennoshita laughs, incredulous.

“Are you alright?” He pats your back. You gather yourself with a sniffle, standing to face him. His dark hair is wild, half wet and smeared across his forehead as he coos with sympathy, calm smile pinned deep into his cheeks.

“You came so hard you’re crying.”

“I did not,” you retort weakly.

“Okay, okay. If you say so."

He holds his arms open for you and you shuffle into them, that shower drizzle already starting to lose its heat. You should hurry and stop running up the utility bill, but instead you linger, savoring the innocent part of skinship. Ennoshita doesn't seem to mind, occasionally dotting kisses onto your crown.

“I will, by the way,” you whisper, “Move in.”

He's unphased. You both already knew that you were going to agree. “Good.”

“Not because of the sex,” you clarify, speaking into the crook on his shoulder. “Because of the ‘you.’”

“I know." He hums to himself, throat buzzing under your touch, “Want me to wash your hair?”

You shake your head with a sigh. "Can't."

"I can't? Am I that hopeless?"

You peek up. He's watching you with those round, round eyes. "My conditioner is still in my bag, Chichi."

He laughs a bit too hard, sputtering a bit on water himself. "

"You know what i'm going to say, don't you?" His fingers tickle at your side, "If you lived here-"

"I already said yes!"

He laughs again and its musical to your ears.

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hyakinthou-naos · 4 months

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Theoi Info Sheets Series Part 9: Dionysus

Bacchic Lord of Madness,

King Insanity,

When all the world has abandoned you

Marked you wrong Marked you foreigner Marked you trespasser in your own home

We will sing for you

Pulse pounding in ringing ears Blood dripping from unwashed hands Feet bruised from dancing, or chasing, or fleeing, And who can truly tell the difference?

Oh Lord of Wine and Pleasure

Oh King of Woods and Forests

Dionysus Mainolês Dionysus Nyktelios Dionysus Dimêtôr Dionysus Saôtês

Let our cries make tragedies

Let our screams be symphonies

If all the world's a stage - Then Lord of play and theatre Let this be not the finale - but just an intermission Let the show go on.

- A Show of Maddness; A Hymn to Dionysus

Dionysus is a God unique in my personal practice. Typically those within my Personal Pantheon are worked with, honored, and worshipped regularly.

However, while I consider Dionysus part of my personal pantheon, I commune with Him infrequently and He does not hold a standing spot on my altar.

Dionysus, to me, is like a comet. He comes around every so often, sometimes when expected and other times when not; but He is always welcome.

I often synchronize Him with Lord Shiva, the Destroyer - and in that way when I feel closer to Him when engaging in the Hindu parts of my practice. Which, like my interactions with Lord Dionysus, are infrequent and often unplanned.

He is a divinity of mystery, with layers and depth that I feel are hard to understand. He, to me, is like a Solar Eclipse; rare and beautiful but something I cannot look at directly or regularly.

Divider/Banner Credit

*You may have seen this info sheet before on thewitchfarhan.tumblr.com - that is my old Tumblr. These info sheets are my own creation - please do not repost without credit.

#Theoi Info Sheets #Theoi Info Sheet Series #Theoi Info Sheet #Dionysus #Lord Dionysus #Dionysus Deity #HelPol #Hellenic Polytheism #Hellenic Polytheist #text and image post #The Temple of Hyacinthus #Hymns

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nethhiri · 7 months

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Marooned: Chapter 14

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: binge drinking

Party time. Excellent!

The deck was full of Kid Pirates well on their way to getting drunk. You waited until you could hear laughing and bickering and shouting before making your appearance. One, because you didn't want to be the first one there, waiting awkwardly, and two, because this type of thing was out of your wheelhouse. Parties, sure, you've enjoyed plenty of parties, but being celebrated and being the center of attention in a dress, no less, was something entirely different. If it was in a different setting, like a crew that was your own, conceivably you wouldn't feel so uncomfortable. You were grateful that the purpose of this was to also celebrate Killer's recovery. Maybe he would overshadow you, he certainly did in stature anyway.

I swear the first thing I'm gonna do when I get off this ship is buy pants. Sort of a tomboy growing up, you weren't drawn to wearing more feminine things and it felt foreign wearing a dress. You didn't have anything against it, in fact, you felt gorgeous, like a princess even, but pants were way more practical than dresses, especially in this line of work. You couldn't really complain though. You literally asked for this. Maybe I shouldn't have.

"C'mon, Mini." The boar happily trotted out behind you, ready to receive table scraps. You took in the sight on deck: barrels and crates turned into chairs and makeshift tables, along with some real tables and chairs, seemingly reserved for the higher ranked pirates, banners with their Jolly Roger strung up, extra torches, overflowing kegs, and happy, tipsy pirates: some were arm wrestling, some were playing cards, others were telling stories of battles past, a few were somehow already passed out. The men arm wrestling intrigued your competitive side, but you thought better of showing off your strength, if you still had it. Your eyes scanned through the crew until they saw Quincy's unruly, orange mane. Your heeled boot took one step in their direction before your ears perked up, hearing one of the men arm wrestling jab another by saying he couldn't even beat 'that woman'. All the sudden, your foot pivoted on its own.

The heels thunked against the wood of the deck as you walked with purpose towards the group and sat in front of the man who made the jab, throwing your elbow on the barrel-made-table. "Let's see you beat me then." You wiggled your fingers.

The man scoffed, then grinned and licked his lips. "Fine. If I win then you have to untie the top of your dress."

You rolled your eyes. "Wow, as if I couldn't guess." There was a pause as you thought. "If I win he gets to walk you around the deck like a dog," you said pointing to the guy who was previously insulted. They stared at you before bursting into fits of howling laughter, barking and making jokes at your challenger's expense. "See you have to be creative or it's not fun."

The blond man across from you, who you learned, from the jeers of his crewmates, was called Pomp. He put his hand in yours and rested his elbow on the table. His hand eclipsed yours, though not nearly as much as Kid's would. Not that you wanted your hand entwined with Kid's, definitely not. At the signal, your hands pushed against each other, fighting for a dominant hold. Your Y/E/C eyes bored into his. Part of you wished Quincy hadn't covered your scars so much, you weren't intimidating like this. What you didn't know was that you were intimidating like this, in a different way. Pomp's face was bright red with exertion, beads of sweat stated to break out on his brow, the back of his hand reaching ever closer to the table. You could see his mind struggling to understand how you were stronger than he was. "Start barking, bitch." His hand thunked against the table.

"No way." Pomp was more shocked than mad.

A blue haired man slapped him on the back, "Get on all fours, my friend."

"Fuck you, Reck."

You started to get up, intending to go sit with the girls, like you originally planned. However, your mind was changed when several of the men scrambled to get in the seat across from you, arguing over who got to try next. And that's how you ended up with: a human footstool, someone's gold tooth, a never-empty beer mug, a knife, a shoulder massage, some fucking pants, and Dive running some kind of betting ring. You were actually having fun. Quincy, Emma, and Dive had come over to see what was going on. At first, you bantered amongst yourselves, then some of the men joined in, and pretty soon you were all laughing together, except Pomp, who was barking, much to everyone's delight. You took a long drink of your beer, about to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, but stopping when you remembered you had lipstick on. It would be quite a sight to have dark lipstick smeared across your face.

"Where's my beer boy?" You tapped the butt of the mug on the wood. "I'm half-empty," you tsked.

One of the rookies scuttled over to grab it for a refill. "S-sorry, Ma'am."

Before he could turn, you grabbed his cheek in a pinch, "That's Ca-," you coughed. "That's Doc to you." Maybe I should cool I on the booze. It was easy to fall into your old ways, even easier now that you felt like yourself in this painted-on skin Quincy gave you. You almost slipped up. A heavy hand clapping you on the shoulder made you jump, releasing the boy. You looked up from your seat, expecting to see the Red Menace, instead looking into a blue and white helmet. "Did you want a try? Step right up. Test your strength." You grinned up at him cheekily.

He ignored that. "Captain wants you."

You leaned around him to see Kid's amber eyes staring at you. "When does he not?" You swore you heard Emma cough-whisper "captain-fucker" under her breath, the other girls snickering.

His hand moved down to grip your arm, firmly but gentle, and pulled you up from your seat.

"Fine. Fine. I'm coming." You snatched up your winnings, tucking the knife behind you under your belt and the tooth in the front. And, of course, grabbing your stein. You followed Killer to their table, where Kid, Heat, Wire, and a few others sat. Mini was too busy to follow, her in the background letting pirates see if they could throw apples directly into her mouth from across the ship. Killer went back to where he was sitting, leaving no more remaining seats. You already knew where this was going. Kid smirked and patted his lap. "I'll stand." You moved to stand behind Heat, who you felt the most comfortable with.

The captain scowled at you. "I'm not askin." When you still didn't move, he bribed, "Do ya want yer shit back?"

You begrudgingly moved toward him. "Gun, too."

"Whatever, doll."

He grabbed your waist and roughly pulled you down to his lap, a huff leaving you as you were brought back had against his firm chest. Your beer spilled over the edge of the mug and over your hand in the jostling movement. You set it down, and much to the chagrin of everyone, flung the dripping excess off your hand in their direction prior to wiping your hand on Kid's pant leg. He made a noise of displeasure. "What? I'm borrowing this," you plucked at the red fabric clinging to your body. "I don't want to spill beer on it."

"You look very nice in that color, Doc." Heat complimented.

"Thank you, Heat. At least someone on this ship knows how to treat a lady." You smiled in his direction before taking a drink.

The chest under you shook and your eardrums rattled as Kid's booming laugh rang out, "Oh ya put on a dress and a wee bit of makeup and all tha sudden yer a lay-dee," he drew out the last word in a mocking way.

That...kinda stung. A bubble of anger rose to the surface of your mind. Without fail, Kid had to ruin your good mood. Biting your tongue, you resisted the urge to lay into him. If you went too far in front of his top officers, you would be on his bad side. "What am I then?" You raised your eyebrow and glared at him, fully expecting him to say something crude.

He slapped a hand down on your leg and squeezed. "A pirate, ya dumbass."

Killer seemed almost as surprised as you that Kid said something not-mean, though hard to tell through the mask. You scooted his hand towards your knee, though he kept putting it back further up your thigh, so you gave up. They started talking about their plans for when they reached the next island and other things you hardly cared about. Taking the knife out of your belt, you spun it around idly on the table. It had been digging into your back. You kept drinking and chose to use this time to observe the crew. Killer looked like he had the same idea. You couldn't see where exactly his eyes were looking, however his mask was facing you. Your suspicion was all but confirmed when you turned to look directly at him and he looked away. You were about to ask him if he needed something when several plates were set down on the table, each with a different entree. All looked equally heavenly.

After several rounds of plates, including dessert, and drinks, everyone was full to the point of being uncomfortable. Except Mini, who was lapping up all the spilled beer, and you, who was staring down the last bite of chocolate cake on Killer's plate. Kid had shifted you from one leg to the other when his leg fell asleep, and you were now closer to Killer. He cleared his throat, "Do you... want the rest?" It took you a second to stumble through your inebriated fog before you realized he was talking to you. You nodded. He looked for a utensil to pick it up with, and when he failed he shrugged and picked it up with his hand. He held it out to put into your hand. Without a second thought, you leaned over, holding onto Kid's neck, and ate it straight from his fingers, licking them off and leaving a ring of lipstick around them as you came back up with a popping sound, giggling. The accidental innuendo was not lost on him, as red spread down his neck from underneath his helmet.

Kid tucked his head next to you on the side opposite Killer and spoke lowly into your ear, "Careful, Rotten. I'm not ready ta share ya yet."

"Fuck off. I just wanted cake." You chugged the rest of the beer in your mug, not caring that some dripped down the corner of your mouth, and turned around on his lap to face him. "And I'll fuck whoever I want." You grabbed either side of his vest and pulled him towards you, sloppily making out with him, tongues twisting, both tasting like beer, lipstick colors slowly blending together, unconsciously grinding against his thigh.

Kid pulled away. "Yer even more fun drunk." He took in your lust-filled eyes, now noticing that you replaced the log-pose he had taken. Some memory fluttered in the back of his mind when he took in your face like this. It was smothered by the filthy thoughts racing in his mind. It wouldn't be the first time he fucked someone in plain view.

Something you hadn't taken into consideration was that you hadn't had a drink in years. Your tolerance was that of a teenager sneaking booze from their parent's liquor cabinet. You would pass out soon, you could feel it, but first you felt your stomach flop. Oh no. You pushed Kid away as he went to kiss you again and covered your mouth, fighting wobbly legs to get off Kid and get to the banister.

Kid was about to protest you pushing him. Then he saw how green you looked. He pushed you off him and turned you in the right direction.

You made it to the railing in time to hurl over the side of the ship, having the wherewithal to move your hair out of the way. Your full body weight leaned on the railing as you puked up everything you ate in the reverse order. You cursed yourself for being this stupid. You don't know how many times you threw up before a warm hand rested on your back, patting it gently, while another one gathered your hair away from your face.

"Let it all out, darlin." It reminded Killer of his younger days with Kid. "It's okay." He was very familiar with the drunk-friend-babysitter role. He felt guilty for his part in helping get you wasted, constantly getting someone to fill your glass. He and Kid thought if you were drunk, maybe you would let some identifying information slip.

You grabbed around for his shirt so he couldn't leave you. "Killer, don't let me fall in." You hiccuped. "I can't swim."

Maybe it paid off after all, he thought.

#yes the title is why I was thinking of Wayne's world and drew that pic #I want Killer to baby me irl #massacre soldier killer x reader #eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #kid x reader x killer #killer x reader #eustass kid x reader #one piece #marooned #x reader

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hananoami · 25 days

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Rafayel's Directional Orbit: Fire - Stage 130 Clear + VOD

And finally, the last 130 post clear write up on my list is with Rafayel. We cleared his Directional Orbit: Fire - Stage 130 on July 24th! This one was lowkey kinda sketchy towards the end because the game decided to suddenly freeze on me.. ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

Rafayel's Stage 130 requires two teams. Team 01's Protofield Stellactrum is 5-Violet and 1-Ruby. Team 02's Protofield Stellactrum is 5-Pearl and 1-Amber.

Matching the Protofield Stellactrum will grant you additional bonuses to your team. By matching the colors completely you will have a ’perfect match’ which allows you to break 2 protofield shields in a single strike. This saves you time by quickly bringing those wanderers into a weakened state. You also get an Attribute Bonus (up to 30.0%) for every color you match - increase DMG boost 5.0% and DMG reduction 5.0%. Of course, you could opt to go off color and try to brute force it, but I didn't here.

The difference having a Duo R1 of any solar pair is wildly insane. Duo Rank 1 boosts Ardent Oath charge by 20%, allowing you to to equip a different beta protocore for something that is focused on either strength or expedited energy. I was totes excited to finally get another copy of [Deep Sea Promise] during the Pulse Hunter limited-time banner since for some un(sea)godly reason his [Deep Sea Riches] just loves to grace me with his presence instead -- I currently have that memory at R3.

For the first half of the fight I tried to keep all of the wanderers grouped up together. Thankfully, Abysswalker's Resonance Skill, Fantasia Shark, pulls in the enemies before it bites and burns them. I'm not gonna lie... my game play is kinda sloppy here too since I had to collect the Fish Tail beacon he dropped anytime I used his Eclipse Rend Support Skill. I also had to keep track of the marked wanderer in order to use my Abyssal Rapid Fire charged attack for more damage. It's totes easier to keep them grouped up in a corner that way Sharkie can reach all of them when pulled in.

One thing I do want to improve on are my perfect dodges. In this case for Rafayel's Abysswalker he would drops another fish tail beacon for an additional charge to speed up his Eclipse Rend support skill. While watching my clear vod again I noticed I had the opportunity for these perfect dodges, but didn't do them because I was afraid of getting hit. I should just go for it going forward, just to get more practice in.

My overall rotation with God of the Tides could have been better. I kept forgetting to press my active skill, Tides, for the small buff window before going into Rafayel's resonance skill, Surging Tides. The boss locked its HP at around 75% health on the final bar where you can't do any damage to it. So you would have to avoid the cyclones in order to not get frozen and lose out on some time. Also, this would be the perfect time to get a perfect dodge in, as seen in my clear video, hehe~

You can probably notice where my game decided to freeze during my fights in my clear vods... it was actually a real struggle that day and kinda stressed me out since this was all time sensitive content -- not that there was a rush to clear or anything. I just knew I was able to clear the fights, if only my game wouldn't hold me back with the lag. I ended up fixing by setting my graphics to the lowest setting.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

TEAM 01

Companion: Rafayel’s Abysswalker [ Burst | Single-target | Pull ] Weapon: Phantasma Sands (guns) [ DPS | Single-target | Sustained ] Attribute Bonus For each matched stellactrum, increases DMG Boost 5.0% (currently increased: 30.0%) and DMG Reduction 5.0% (currently increased 30.0%). ♡ Affinity Bonus: 106 (Rafayel’s Protective Skill) When you take a fatal blow, Rafayel teleports to you, blocks a hit, and counter attacks. Enemies will be knocked back. [ HP xxxx || DEF xx || ATK xxx ] Pair Bonus [AB] -- Starting Effect: increases team DMG by 8%, reduces DMG taken by 8%, and increases Crit DMG of Deepsea Persuit by 30%. -- Duo Rank 1: boost Ardent Oath charge by 20%. When fighting together with Abysswalker, increases DMG taken of enemies inflicted with Burn by 20%.

5☆ DEEP SEA RICHES (violet/solar) Lv 80/awakened rank 2 using +15 SSR protocores

5☆ DEEP SEA PROMISE (violet/solar) Lv 80/awakened using +15 SSR protocores

5☆ FLORAL PROMISE (violet/lunar) Lv 80 using xx SSR protocores

5☆ WHISPERS (violet/lunar) Lv 80 rank 1 using xx SSR protocores

5☆ YOUR FRAGRANCE (violet/lunar) Lv 80 rank 3 using xx SSR protocores

4☆ WHALEFALL LAMENT (ruby/lunar) Lv 60 rank 3 using xx SSR protocores

TEAM 02

Companion: Rafayel’s God of the Tides [ Sustained | Buff | AoE ] Weapon: Tidal Embrace (staff) [ Sustained | Buff | Aoe ] Attribute Bonus For each matched stellactrum, increases DMG Boost 5.0% (currently increased: 30.0%) and DMG Reduction 5.0% (currently increased 30.0%). ♡ Affinity Bonus: 106 (Rafayel’s Protective Skill) When you take a fatal blow, Rafayel teleports to you, blocks a hit, and counter attacks. Enemies will be knocked back. [ HP xxxx || DEF xx || ATK xxx ] Pair Bonus [TP] - Starting Effect: increases team DMG by 8%, reduces DMG taken by 8%, and increases Crit DMG by 10% when fighting alongside Sea Spirits. - Duo Rank 1: boosts Ardent Oath Charge by 20%. The starting level of Sea Spirits rises to Lv. 2, and Sea Spirits will last for 5 more seconds. - Duo Rank 2: increases Energy Charge cap by 1. During Heavenly Rain, recovery rate of energy charge is increased by 30%.

5☆ TEMPLE'S PROMISE (pearl/solar) Lv 80/awakened rank 2 using xx protocores

5☆ TEMPLE'S SUNSET (pearl/solar) Lv 80/awakened rank 2 using xx SSR protocores

5☆ PRIVATE TRIP (pearl/lunar) Lv 80 using xx SSR protocores

5☆ TIPSY INVITATION (pearl/lunar) Lv 80 rank using xx SSR protocores

5☆ FIREWORKS VOW (pearl/lunar) Lv 80 using xx SSR protocores

5☆ UNFORGETTABLE ADVENTURE (amber/lunar) Lv 80 rank 1 using xx SSR protocores

signal boosting: @hunters-association

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daechwitatamic · 1 year

Text

2. Retrograde || KSJ

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: Amalthea (Masterpost) - Part 2: Retrograde

Rating: NSFW - minors go away i mean it Genre: best friend's older brother!au, angst smut fluff trifecta Pairing: Seokjin x female reader Beta team: @yoongiphoria, @here2bbtstrash, @kookstempo

Summary: You can count on two things in life. One: that your lifelong best friend Minji will always be there for you, in your corner, your brightest star. Two: that you'll never be free from her older brother Seokjin's orbit - the gravitational pull is just too strong.

Warnings: language, underage drinking, a broken bone, angst, kissing, implied protected s*x/ kind of the immediate aftermath to it, TIME JUMPS WC: 9.5k

Part 2: Retrograde

Retrograde: (noun) when celestial objects appear to travel backwards

You broke your wrist when you were ten.

You were riding your bike around the dead end. Minji and Jungkook were away at a cousin’s house. Seokjin was down the street, on his skateboard, trying the same kickflip over and over again. Sometimes he made it. Sometimes he didn’t. You weren’t riding together.

You don’t remember hitting the curb. You don’t remember what had distracted you. You don’t even remember flipping forward over the handlebars. Just the sickening burn that began at your wrist and pulsed in sluices up towards your elbow.

Seokjin had run to your house to get your dad, the forgotten skateboard drifting by itself towards the run-off drain, where the wheels snagged and it stilled.

Your dad had picked you up and carried you, sobbing, into the backseat of his sedan, buckling you in. Then he’d turned and looked at Seokjin, who was standing, stone-faced, behind him.

“Your dad’s not home,” he’d said, not a question. “I don’t want to leave you home alone - you can ride to the hospital with us. I’ll call your house when we get there and leave a message to explain.”

No one had cell phones yet, back then.

Every bump of the car jostled you and made you cry harder, holding your injury close to your chest. You weren’t even embarrassed to cry in front of Jin - it hurt so bad it eclipsed any other emotion.

And then Jin had reached out and held your uninjured hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Hey,” he’d said, and then put on a heavy accent. “What be a pirate’s fav’rite letter?”

You’d thought about it. “Arrrr,” you guessed, proud to have figured it out.

Seokjin had grinned at you across the backseat. “You’d think it’d be ‘R’,” he cried, amped to get to deliver the punchline as intended, “but his true love be the ‘C’.”

“Good god,” your dad groaned from the front seat. But despite the unrelenting burning in your arm, you’d smiled.

–

The summer you were twelve, you’d played hide and seek outside at night. The idea came on out of nowhere. Jungkook - eleven, that year - had a few friends sleep over one night, loud boys named Taehyung and Jimin, and someone had suggested it. You remember thinking your parents wouldn’t allow it, but Mr. Kim had said it was okay as long as you stayed out of yards if you didn’t know the family that lived there, didn’t leave the dead end, and came back inside by ten o’clock.

The neighborhood felt different at night; it felt different to be set loose like this - free to run and shout and hide as the day’s sticky humidity faded into something comfortable.

You’d split up, everybody running in separate directions, dark figures darting under streetlights and plunging into the shadows. You stuck close to the houses, trying to stay out of open spaces. You left your own yard, creeping two houses down, curling up in a ball next to someone’s shed.

I am a rock, you thought, hugging your knees as tightly as possible, making yourself as tiny as you could. I am just a rock. The dirt beneath you, gritty, dug into your knees and shins. In the distance, you could hear both trucks on the highway and the chorus of frogs in the streams behind the neighborhood. Sweat trickled between your shoulder blades.

I’m just a rock.

You heard someone’s footsteps approach you, in the dark, and then pause. You held as still as possible, trying to barely even breathe. Don’t see me, you thought. I am just a rock.

The moment stretched, tense, and whoever thought you might be a rock decided to move on, their footsteps carrying on down the sloping yard. You released a breath, unfolding a little, looking around. Seeing no one, you stood, brushing dirt and pebbles from your legs.

Seokjin appeared out of nowhere from the other side of the shed, and you’d stepped backwards instinctively, pressing your back against the grainy wood of the shed, holding your breath for the second time in minutes.

He spotted you, clearly - he froze, feet away from you, looking at you through the darkness. You didn’t move a muscle, hardly dared to breathe. It was so dark that you couldn’t make out the features on his face. He was all shadow. But somehow you knew - knew - that his eyes were on yours.

“You don’t see me,” you’d whispered to him. “I am just a rock.”

You’d heard him laugh, low, the surprised sound leaving his lips without permission.

He should have tagged you out. But after a moment, he’d carried on, leaving you to hide again in peace. “Goodbye, rock,” he’d said, barely louder than a whisper.

—

You were fifteen the first time you got drunk - really drunk - in Minji’s basement. You shouldn’t have - none of you should have been drinking in the first place, being underage. But Mr. Kim had gotten called into work and… it just sort of happened.

Seokjin had a friend over and they’d holed up in the basement with a handle of vodka the friend had hidden in his duffle bag. You and Minji and Jungkook had been on them like buzzards, trying to get in on the fun.

“Absolutely not,” Seokjin had told Jungkook, more serious than you’d ever seen him. “You’re only fourteen. You can hang out with us if you can keep your mouth shut, but you don’t get any.”

“Hyung -”

“No,” Seokjin had stayed firm, and Jungkook had caved.

“You two,” Seokjin had said, turning his gaze to Minji, who looked back at him innocently, like she was ready to follow every rule and would never put a toe out of line, “can have a little.”

Three hours later, you made it up the stairs to the kitchen barely alive, using your hands to help you balance on the steps. You’d gone up for water, but as you stood over the kitchen sink you were distracted by your reflection in the window. And then, the backyard beyond your reflection.

Somehow, you made it outside, tripping down the wooden steps to the grassy yard, spinning and landing heavily on your back. The night sky swirled above you, the stars laughing at what an idiot you were. The grass beneath you tickled, but you gripped it in your hands, desperate to make the spinning stop.

Somehow, Jin appeared next to you in the grass, a few feet to your left. “How’s the yard?” he asked.

“Spinning,” you told him thickly.

He reached out a hand and patted your arm twice. “It’ll stop.”

You stayed there in silence, watching the stars, clutching the earth beneath you, hoping you wouldn’t get flung off the ride.

“Sometimes,” you heard yourself say, your voice seeming to come from the constellations themselves, the moons too far away to see, “I feel like everyone looks right through me.”

You felt Seokjin’s eyes on you, but he didn’t say anything.

You nodded, licked your dry lips. “Yeah,” you said, like he’d asked you something, like you’re agreeing with something he’d added on. “Like maybe I’ll be see-through forever.”

–

You almost got a boyfriend when you were sixteen. There was a guy from school - you’d talk on the phone late at night, sit together at lunch, share answers to homework assignments before the first bell rang.

On a particularly rainy Saturday, he’d taken you on a date to the nearest shopping mall. It had been okay - you’d had pretzels, wandered through a few department stores.

It had been okay - until you ran into a bigger group of kids from school. You’d joined them for a while; they were his friends, and he jumped in their conversations easily, someone who belonged. You, the see-through one, smiled and listened. Always on the outskirts.

And then he’d said, “Hey, we’re going to go back to J’s dad’s house. You’ll be okay?”

It had taken you longer than you were proud of to realize he was leaving with them, leaving you alone. It had taken longer than you were proud of to feel pissed, to realize you should have done anything except smile and nod.

He’d been your ride there.

Your parents had been working. You’d called Jin - your emergency adult.

“Y/N?” he’d sounded confused. You’d never called him before.

“Are you busy?” you’d asked him, the shame crawling over you, burrowing under your skin and making you want to rip it off. “I need a ride. I’m stuck.”

“What?” His voice was sharp. You could hear background noise stop, like he’d hit mute on what he was watching or paused the game he was playing. “Where are you? What happened?”

You lowered your voice, giving him the shortest version of the story possible. You were met with silence, stretching so long that you pulled the phone away from your ear to check your service, to see if you’d dropped the call. “Jin?”

“I’ll be there,” he’d said, something tight in his voice. “Wait for me by the food court.”

“Okay,” you’d whispered, and hung up.

Outside, it rained in sheets. You stood and watched the waves of rain move left to right across the parking lot. People jogged in from their cars, hoods on or umbrellas aloft. When Jin’s car pulled up to the curb, you ran through the rain, trying to shield your hair with your hands. It didn’t work at all. By the time you slid into the passenger seat, you looked half-drowned.

“Thanks for coming,” you’d said, eyes on your shoes as Seokjin put the car back in drive and pulled slowly back into traffic.

“It’s fine,” he’d said, still terse. It was unlike him. He was so rarely serious, so rarely not making bad puns, so rarely not laughing like a windshield wiper. It made these moments feel… heavy, somehow.

He drove in silence for a little. You stewed in the passenger seat, sifting through embarrassment and anger and also - somehow - happiness to be here now, with Jin, even if it was at the cost of every cent of your dignity.

Then, he seemed to notice the shopping bag on the floor of the car, tucked between your sneakers.

“What’d you get?” he asked, voice light again.

“Shirt,” you told him, reaching down to pull the top from the bag and hold it up. “Cute, right?”

“Snazzy,” he agreed. “I think I should get one. You think they have my size?”

You laughed despite yourself. “You’re so lame,” you told him. “Besides, this totally isn’t your color.”

“Please!” he blustered. “I can look handsome in anything. I’d look amazing in that.”

You were really laughing by then. Minji used to get so annoyed that he made you laugh when he got like this - you were encouraging him, she said - but you genuinely found him so funny that you couldn’t help yourself. You always had.

“Sure, okay,” you told him, stuffing the shirt back into the bag. “You keep telling yourself that.”

As you neared your neighborhood, though, your mood sank again.

“Jin?” you asked, looking over at him. He raised an eyebrow at you, his eyes on the road.

“Could you maybe… not tell Minji? About today?”

He didn’t answer for a while, not until he came to a red light and could turn and look at you completely. “Why?” he asked.

You could feel it as your face reddened as you had to put words to your embarrassment again. “She… was right about this guy. I should have listened to her. I just… I’m not ready to hear I told you so.”

Seokjin stopped in front of your parents’ house so you wouldn’t have to run across the street in the rain.

“I never saw you,” he promised you solemnly. “But Y/N? You shouldn’t let people treat you like this. That guy’s an ass.”

You gave him a tiny smile before extracting yourself from your seatbelt. “Thanks,” you’d said, and then darted through the rain like it would melt you.

–

Jin left for college at the end of the following summer, weeks before you turned seventeen. You watched through a gap in your living room curtains, curled up on the couch in your pajamas, as Mr. Kim and Jungkook helped load Jin’s boxes and bags into Mr. Kim’s car.

It felt unfair, that he got to leave, that he got to turn right out of the dead end and have a life - and you were still trapped here.

When Minji came out of the house, giving her older brother a reluctant hug, you rose, feet taking you unbidden on a course in their direction.

Minji had grinned at you. “I’m glad you’re here, you can help me move my shit into his room.”

“Yah!” Seokjin had protested, pushing her shoulder lightly. “No one said you could have my room!”

Minji stuck her tongue out at him. “You won’t be here to stop me!” She started back into the house, then turned over her shoulder and called to you, “Come on, the bed will take forever to move!”

She disappeared into the house, leaving you and Seokjin alone next to Mr. Kim’s sedan, which was packed to the brim.

You didn’t look at each other; Seokjin leaned against the car with his arms crossed, eyes on the ground. You faced the car, and him, the house on the other side. You watched the reflection of his profile in the car’s window.

What could you even say to him? What words could you pull out of your soul that weren’t a total cliche, or completely inappropriate, or both?

Don’t have too much fun.

Don’t forget me.

Please, don’t go away and fall in love without me.

I really don’t want you to go.

In the end, you told him, “See you at Christmas?” and he’d nodded silently, and you’d said, “Okay, then. Good luck with everything.”

Then you’d slinked into his house to help his little sister commandeer his bedroom.

–

That’s only part of the story, though. If you’re flipping through moments you’d shared with Jin… there was one you skipped. You avoid it, give it a wide berth, like if you step too close you might knock it from its pedestal. Like you might get sticky fingerprints all over its protective glass just from looking, somehow.

Mr. Kim had thrown Jin a graduation party in June, two months before he left for college. It had been wholesome while the sun was up - the Kim men had taken turns at the grill, little cousins had run barefoot through the yard, a table had been laden with gifts and cards, blue balloons had been tied to the porch railings.

At night, though, it seemed like both children and adults disappeared, leaving only you in-betweens. Blind eyes had been turned to the cases of beer stashed beneath the sodas in the buckets of ice. Cars full of kids parked up and down the dead end street, unloading loudly and entering the even louder house.

You’d stayed close to Minji, hadn’t even had that much to drink. But the house had been packed with people, too loud, too hot, and you’d found yourself slipping out the kitchen door sometime around one in the morning.

The lights from the house cast squares onto the driveway. Past them, a figure sat on the ground at the end of the driveway, long legs stretched out in front of him.

You’d made your way over slowly, warily. Not sure if you were wanted, not sure if you were intruding.

He’d turned to see who it was when you approached. You think you probably imagined the way he’d softened when he saw it was only you.

“You good?” you’d asked.

“‘Course,” he said - which should have been a clue that he might not be. A one word answer? From Kim Seokjin?

You paused next to him, still a bit unsure. “You sure? You’re… sitting on the ground alone, outside your own party.”

Jin huffed out a laugh at this. “I just needed some air. Some space.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling instantly like you were ruining the space he’d been craving.

“You can stay,” he’d said quickly, reading your response correctly. “I mean… I don’t mind if you’re here.”

Relief flooded you. You’d leaned against the side of the car parked there - not Mr. Kim’s sedan, you didn’t know whose car it was - and eyed him thoughtfully.

“Are you scared?” you asked. Something about the question felt right, felt like you were zeroing in on the problem.

Seokjin laughed again, a little sarcastic. “Me? Never.”

You smiled at his back, seeing right through his bravado. “About what? What’s the biggest thing?”

He’d shaken his head, pushed himself to his feet, brushed gravel from his hands, then his ass. He’d turned slowly, walked back towards the house, paused just a foot from you.

It was always you and Seokjin, in the dark.

You were always more honest with each other in the dark. Inside, he’d be all dad jokes and video games, kitchen skills and skateboard tricks.

You needed some shadows to get any idea what he was thinking. It had always been that way.

“I dunno,” he’d said, hands in his pockets. “Classes. Dorms. Not having my dad around. Not being here to watch out for Jungkook.”

“That’s more than one thing,” you’d pointed out.

He’d nodded seriously, but his lips twisted in irony, like he was thinking a very clever joke and holding it in.

“Okay then,” he said. “Let’s go with: losing my place, here. Coming back and finding out that everyone just… moved on without me.”

He’d brushed past you then, reaching out to touch your elbow lightly on his way by.

It’s been over a decade since that night, and you still don’t know if he meant his family, or you.

You’re mad at yourself the second you’re back in your car. You’d gone there uninvited, you’d cooked for him. Obviously it meant something - neither of you were stupid enough to think it didn’t. So why had you run the second he’d tried to talk to you?

You berate yourself the whole way home. And you’re not the only one who’s pissed. Jin texts you before you’re even out of the neighborhood, though you don’t see it until you park at your complex, grabbing your phone from the cup holder where you’d tossed it.

[11:28 AM] Jin 😎: im confusing YOU? [11:28 AM] Jin 😎: im not the one who came to cook you breakfast and then bolted the second it got serious [11:28 AM] Jin 😎: THAT’S confusing

Defensiveness rises up in you like a wave. Where does he get off lecturing you after the shit he pulled two years ago? Hands shaking, you fire back, “no, you bolted BEFORE breakfast. the second you got your jeans zipped, if i remember correctly.”

You throw your phone onto the passenger seat like it’s burned your hands, closing your eyes and pressing your head back into the headrest, breathing out slowly through your mouth to calm your racing heart. Fuck, those had been fighting words, for sure. But you’re pretty convinced he deserves it.

When you get brave enough to pick it up again, he hasn’t answered. You’re not sure if you’re relieved, or more worried. With a sigh, you collect your things and head inside.

“Roomieeeeee!”

You’d barely unpacked since returning from Christmas break your freshman year of college, your suitcase open on your dorm bed, a small pile of dirty clothes on the floor next to you. You’d been about to move it all to the hamper, it just hadn’t happened yet. Your college roommate, Sheyla, had just burst through the door, crowing happily when she saw you.

You got along well with Sheyla - you’d probably stay friends after college. But no one could take Minji’s place. When you and Minji decided to go to the same college, you’d agreed to live separately, to preserve your friendship. You both knew you needed breaks from each other to maintain the love.

“Hey!” you called back, flapping a hoodie out of the ball you’d scrunched it in and smelling the pits. Into the dirty pile it went. “How was your Christmas?”

Sheyla tossed her bag on the ground and flopped backwards onto her bed, fingers reaching to turn on the fairy lights you’d strung up together.

“Honestly? Boring. No one lives home by me, it was old people central the whole time. How about you?” She looks at you, suddenly sharp-eyed. “Did you see that guy? Your neighbor?”

You glanced at the door in alarm, as if Minji could have possibly materialized there, just in time to overhear.

Sheyla clocked this and laughed. “She can’t hear us! I told you your secret was safe! So, did you?”

It had been your first holiday break going home, your freshman year of college. You’d seen Jin sparingly over the last two years - two winter breaks, two summer breaks, and the odd weekend here or there if he had things going on.

You hadn’t had a conversation in that whole time; you’d been to the house to see Minji, but you hadn’t crossed paths. You texted each other on your birthdays, maybe once or twice if something interesting happened.

It had been weird, feeling things shift, noticing him slowly become someone who used to be in your life.

“Yeah, his family came to my parents’ Christmas Eve party,” you admitted. “But we really didn’t talk. He didn’t even come sit in the same room as me and Minji.”

It was true; you’d stayed in the kitchen for most of the party, wanting to avoid all your parents’ work friends, who were going to ask you about how college was going, and did you like your classes, and had you made new friends, and did you have a boyfriend yet and - you were just too tired for it.

You and Minji had sat on the kitchen counter, crossed ankles dangling, sipping at beers and watching people pass by the doorways - one out to the living room, one out to the dining room.

Seokjin hadn’t come into the kitchen once - but you knew he was out there, because you could hear his wild laugh, his high-pitched complaining as he scolded Jungkook for something he’d probably started in the first place, his voice bouncing over the low tones of the others.

Jungkook had slunk into the kitchen near the end of the party. “Jinnie wants a beer,” he’d told Minji, reaching out a hand, somehow knowing you two had a six-pack behind you.

“Why can’t he come get it?” she demanded as she reached back, fingers closing around a glass neck.

Jungkook shrugged. “He told me to get him one.”

Minji narrowed her eyes at him, the way she does when she’s assessing, deciding something. Then she handed him a second bottle. “That didn’t come from me,” she told him, and he gave her a salute before grabbing the beers and scooting back out.

“Are you and Jin fighting?” you asked, leaning back against the wooden cabinets behind you.

“Not unless he’s fighting without telling me,” she laughed. “If that’s the case, I’ll hear about it later, I’m sure.”

It had bugged you, that he seemed to be avoiding you. Then you’d glanced out into the living room, and there he was, the beer in hand.

He was standing facing Jungkook, but his eyes weren’t on his younger brother. They were on you - and Minji - but they seemed… far away. Wistful, somehow. Then, he’d noticed you looking and he’d pulled his gaze back to Jungkook fast. But the redness took over his ears and crept down his neck almost instantly.

You still weren’t sure what that was about. The most hopeful, foolish, idiotic part of you hoped it had a guess.

“Well,” Sheyla had said with a sigh. “There’s always next time.”

You’d slept over at Minji’s that night, the two of you cramming into her double bed now that you were too old for sleeping bags on the floor. In the morning, you’d rummaged in the kitchen for something to drink - something with bubbles, preferably, but water might have to do - when Seokjin had shuffled in behind you.

You’d turned, surprised, a cold can of seltzer in your hand. “Oh,” you’d said, suddenly very aware that you were still in pajamas, hadn’t bothered with a bra. You crossed your arms, hoping for nonchalance, and tried not to eye the grey sweatpants Jin sported. “I didn’t think anyone else was up. Morning.”

He’d stretched, the movement exposing a strip of belly between the sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. “Morning,” he’d answered, voice gravely from sleep.

You’d watched as he started the kettle. He kept his back to you, turning over his shoulder to see if you were still there after a minute. You wanted to ask him - well, lots of things. How was college, how was he, why was he avoiding you, why was he being so fucking weird?

His back, wide and solid, said don’t. So you’d taken your seltzer and retreated back to Minji’s bedroom, wondering if you imagined the feeling of his gaze burning on you as you fled.

–

You were twenty when Seokjin graduated from college. You were home, too, most of your school stuff yet unpacked the morning they took his graduation pictures in the front yard. Jungkook looked barely awake, rubbing his eyes sleepily as Minji fussed over trying to get his hair to lay flat. Seokjin stood in the center of the yard in his cap and gown, and you could hear him in your head complaining that they were taking too long and could they please just hurry up and take the picture. You smiled over your cup of coffee and then removed yourself from the window before you could get caught watching.

He’d had a graduation party that night. You really considered not going; it had been four years since Seokjin had left for college, two since you and Minji had, and in those four years you’d barely interacted - just the niceties when your paths had to cross, when your orbits swung you too close together again. It seemed pointless to show up when you wouldn’t even talk, when the days of stealing quiet moments away from everyone else were long gone. It seemed pointless to go, just to spend the night cataloging all the ways things had changed in four years, getting your feelings hurt for no reason at all.

Jin had said he was afraid of everyone moving on, but he’d nudged you on your way - so, really, you ought to just go.

Minji hadn’t understood. How could you explain it? “I don’t think he really wants me there,” you’d tried, sticking to the most basic truths. “Jin and I don’t really talk these days.”

“Since when did you and Jin talk in the first place?” she’d demanded, half right. “You’re there as my friend. Now come on, get changed!”

The sun was setting when you finally let yourself out the front door, calling goodbye to your parents, and making your way across the street. It was log-jammed with cars - a rare sight - and people milled through the front and side yards, red cups and plates of food in hand. It felt a bit like deja vu - you’d done this for all three Kim siblings for high school (though you and Minji had a joint celebration) and now you’d go through the cycle again as you four finished college in waves.

Despite Minji’s needling, you’d felt a little off-kilter, a little out of place. The feeling had sent you into the backyard to look for the drinks before you even found Minji.

As always at their summer parties, there was a keg tucked under the deck - you had to know they put it there, or else ask someone. You’d never find it on your own as a first-timer. You threw your shoulders back to cast off the squiggly feeling in your stomach and made your way down, grabbing a plastic cup and feeling around for the spigot.

You heard a familiar sound across the yard - Jungkook’s voice, whining that he was out of beer.

“Hyung will do it,” Seokjin said, and before you knew it he was sidling around a group of moms with their toddlers to reach the keg - and you.

He stopped when he saw you, then ducked his head and came closer, Jungkook’s empty cup in hand. His ears were tinged pink and you weren’t sure if it was from standing in the sun or… something else.

“Hey,” you’d said, taking your thumb off the spigot and watching the foam on your beer slowly fizz away. “Congrats on graduating.”

“Thanks, I guess,” he’d said, sending you a sideways grin as he pulled the spigot from your hand and started filling Jungkook’s cup.

“You guess?” you squinted at him. That grin was disarming, devious.

He shrugged. “I don’t feel like I really did anything that special. Showed up for class, turned in my homework.”

“You’re right,” you deadpanned. “I rescind my congratulations, effective immediately.”

His grin widened as he laughed, pleased that you were playing along. His gaze lingered on you before he checked on his beer again, making you warmer than you’d been walking through the almost-setting summer sun.

Things felt… charged, suddenly. Energized. You were used to Jin feeling comforting, like when you were kids. You were used to Jin feeling like an emotional black hole, everything inside you gravitating towards his center, as you did as a teenager. But this… this was new.

“Are you done at school?” he’d asked, shifting slightly closer. He released the spigot, letting the foam on his beer start to settle and you picked it up again, filling the top of your own where it had settled and left empty space.

“One more final, but it’s online,” you’d said.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Jin watch you. You wondered what would happen if you said it - told him how you felt, or told him you’d felt like he didn’t want to be near you the last few times you’d seen each other, or told him how badly you wanted your hands on him.

“What’s taking so long?” Jungkook shouted from across the yard, starting to make his way over. When he saw you at the keg, his steps slowed, understanding crossing his face.

“I had to share,” Jin explained, waving a hand at you. You handed him back the spigot, finished.

“Minji’s inside?” you asked them both, stepping out of the shadows and back into the sunlit yard.

“I think so,” Jungkook said, and you’d given them both a quick wave and headed in. You didn’t miss the way Jungkook nudged at Seokjin’s ribs, causing him to spill the top-third of his beer.

Long after sunset, after the food had been cleaned up, after the families with little kids had said goodbye and headed home, you found yourself wandering through the backyard again. Minji had gotten a phone call from the guy she was dating and went into her room to talk - you could have sat in there with her, she wouldn’t have minded, but it kind of gave you the ick to listen to her being so sickly sweet and moonstruck.

Instead, you combed the house for a familiar face. Jungkook had a whole group of friends over, and they were playing a drinking game in the basement. Your parents, who had joined the party in time for the food, had told Mr. Kim goodnight and headed across the street, telling you to text them if you decided to stay the night with Minji. Most of Jin’s college friends who had come from out of town had filtered out.

You finally found Jin, nearly at midnight. He was in his room in the dark, lit up by only his phone screen. His door was mostly closed, and you hesitated in the hall, deciding to leave him alone and go back to bugging Minji in her room.

You hadn’t even turned around to retrace your steps when he called your name. Heart thumping, you’d pushed his door open a little further, hovering in the doorway. He was laying on his bed, on top of the covers, his phone screen casting his face in blue.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, turning his head sideways to look at you.

“Minji’s on the phone with the boyfriend,” you explained. “I needed to escape.”

Jin laughed, a little sputtering.

“What are you doing?” you’d asked, taking one tentative step over the threshold. You’d been in Jin’s room very rarely in your years growing up here. It seemed like new turf.

He told you the name of the webtoon he was reading, flashing the screen at you so you could see.

You had nodded, silent, stuck in the middle of his room. You didn’t want to leave, didn’t know how to leave.

“Can I… read with you?” you asked, tentatively. You didn’t think, didn’t plan, didn’t map out how this would work or look; you just wanted to stay with him, just wanted to get closer.

Seokjin surprised you; he immediately shifted over on his bed, closer to the wall, making space for you.

You had to tell yourself to move, had to beg yourself to move before you stood still so long you made it weird. You’d never been in or on Jin’s bed, and you’d never laid that close before - certainly not since you and Minji were little kids, all laying on the floor together to watch a movie. Never in context like this.

You lay next to him gingerly, afraid to break the spell, afraid the moment would burst like a bubble on a child’s sticky, eager fingertip. You felt exactly that way: like you wanted it so much, but you knew if you touched it, it would be gone.

Your head rested next to his, close enough that you could hear his even breathing, but your bodies stayed a good foot apart.

Still, even with the space between you, you could feel his warmth. His bed smelled like him - something deep and smokey. It could have felt thrilling - it could have felt forbidden. Instead, inexplicably, it felt comforting, peaceful. Like home.

And eventually, as you stayed there, you settled in. Your breathing slowed, your pulse calmed, and you actually got caught up in the comic on the screen. Jin held his phone above you both, waiting patiently until you murmured, “Okay,” before scrolling each time.

You don’t remember falling asleep. What you remember is waking up slowly, immediately unsure where you were. The early morning light was unfamiliar, grey. You stretched, feet reaching for the end of the bed, and then went stock still as you felt someone shift beside you.

Oh god. Had you hooked up with someone? Uncommon, but not impossible.

You took a steadying deep breath, bracing yourself to face your potential mistakes, and cracked one eye open.

Seokjin breathed through his mouth, eyelids fluttering in sleep, just next to your face. You had a split second of absolute alarm, your brain making the equivalent of !!!!, before it came back to you.

You’d fallen asleep reading on his phone. Nothing had happened. But his arm was over your side, fingers resting lightly on your stomach.

You stayed as still as you could, trying to make your brain stop making sounds like a broken motor, hoping Jin wouldn’t wake before you were ready to function like a human. You considered, for a moment, leaning into the situation - rolling into the cuddle, closing your eyes and sinking back down into fuzzy darkness, your face buried in his shirt.

You closed your tired eyes, ready to do just that when your brain suddenly began operating again and your eyes flew open, one hand slapping the mattress in panic.

Minji. If you were in Seokjin’s bed, that meant you were in the Kims’ house, which meant Minji was on the other side of the wall - could catch you, had possibly already caught you.

Heart pounding practically in your throat, you slipped slowly out from under Seokjin’s arm. He had stirred, rolling a little, tucking that arm closer to his chest now that it had nothing to hold. He didn’t wake. You breathed a sigh of relief and started hunting around for your phone. You found it on the ground - it must have fallen off the bed in the middle of the night.

When you checked it, your question was answered -

[1:52 AM] Minji: did you go home??? [2:07 AM] Minji: you could have said goodbye!!! 😠

You press your phone to your chest out of sheer relief. She hadn’t found you, hadn’t peeked into his room on her way through the house last night, hadn’t spotted you two spooning of all things.

“Christ,” you’d muttered, frustrated with yourself for the close call, for falling asleep, for being so stupid over Seokjin even now when you were grown and had separate lives.

You had slinked out of his room on tiptoe, had scooted through the house as quickly and silently as you could, scarcely breathing until you were safely behind the walls of your own house across the street.

You and Jin never talked about it. A precedent, really.

–

The path of your orbit swung you out again - back to college, away from home, back into your world of classes and dorm life. The pieces of your adult life started to click into place as your senior year spun by - grad programs, internships, hints at a life in a different universe than the one you’ve known.

You and Minji graduated, returned for the summer.

There was a night you’d laid across from Minji on the swinging bench in their backyard, her feet in your lap. You two swang gently, eyes on the constellations above you, listening to music play from Minji’s bluetooth speaker.

“Next year’s gonna be weird,” you said, because it was all you could think about, then. You’d gone to college together, but you wouldn’t be together for grad school.

“We’ll be fine,” Minji had murmured, eyes closing.

You’d nudged her with your foot. “Don’t go to sleep. I’m trying to talk to you. I’m nervous.”

She had opened one eye, nudged you right back. “We’ll be fine,” she repeated, more firmly. “It’s not like we’re going to live on campuses in different states. I’ll be right here. You won’t be far, either.”

You lapsed into silence again. The swing tilted you back and forth, lulling you half to sleep.

“I broke up with that guy,” you muttered, half hoping she wouldn’t hear you. Instead, she sat straight up, almost overbalancing the swing and dumping you both on the ground.

“You what?” she asked. “Why?”

“I just wasn’t feeling it,” you explained. You were twenty-one that summer, starting to look at apartments you’d be able to afford while working part-time around grad classes. “Honestly, I was just bored.”

“You always say that,” she accused flatly. “I’ve never understood this about you. Everybody bores you. No one… sticks.” Her voice softens and she adds, “I worry about you.”

You laughed, once, and struggled to sit up. “I’m fine, Minji. None of them were… right. Someone will be.”

“But how will you know?” she pressed. “If you don’t give anyone a chance, how will you know when it’s right?”

Your chest clenched. Because I know what it feels like when it is, you thought, but you couldn’t say that.

“I just will,” you’d muttered, not an answer. You’d gotten up from the swing, heading for the house. “I need some water.”

As soon as you open the kitchen door, Jin jumped a mile. He’d been standing at the kitchen sink… next to the open window.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Were you listening?” you demanded.

Jin had flushed pink before you even spoke, telling on himself. “No,” he said hotly. “I was just here, and the window happened to be open, and -”

“And you eavesdropped,” you finished.

He faced you, lips pursed thoughtfully. “How come no one sticks?” he asked.

You honestly thought you heard him wrong. “What?” you’d uttered, sure he’d repeat himself and say something else entirely.

“Why,” he said again, more slowly, “haven’t any of the guys you’ve dated lasted?”

There was a roaring in your ears as you stared back at him.

“What am I supposed to say to that?” you countered, your voice suddenly a whisper. “Jin, what do I say to that?”

He stepped closer, looking down at you, suddenly dangerously close to being in your space. He murmured your name, reached for your hand. His thumb stroked the back of your hand once, his eyes on yours imploringly.

What were you supposed to say - “because none of them were you”?

The kitchen door opened with a slam and you leapt apart, Seokjin dropping your hand and wheeling around to face the kitchen sink again. With shaking hands you reached for a cabinet that held cups and glasses, rummaging like you were trying to find a good one.

“Get me one of those, please,” Minji asked, poking you in the side as she passed you, before plopping into a kitchen chair.

“Sure,” you’d said, praying that your voice wouldn’t give you away. Seokjin slipped away, down the hall, into the shadows.

–

“What do you think of the wine?”

You were in spanx, a black velvet dress Minji had bullied you into buying, heels that made your ankles swell, and a lipstick called Pretty Petunia.

The wine was too sweet for your liking.

But for the sake of your date, who’d made you reservations at a fancy Italian place, you’d smiled and demurred, “Not bad. What do you think?”

You barely heard his answer. It was your third date, and you’d been more bored at each one. He hadn’t made you laugh even once.

As the candle flame between you flickered and danced, you downed two more glasses of the too-sweet wine and did serious damage to the bread basket. When your date asked you if you wanted to go back to his place for a nightcap, you lied and said you had an assignment due by midnight for grad school and needed to get home.

When he dropped you back at your parents’, you showered and got into sweatpants. You climbed on your bed and pushed your curtain aside just a few inches, leaning your arms on the windowsill and laying your head on them. Your phone buzzed by your leg - the date.

You didn’t answer.

You kept your eyes on the window, on the Kims’ house.

Seokjin had moved out earlier that day - really moved out, taking everything with him to an apartment a plane ride away.

You hadn’t told him goodbye, hadn’t snuck out to the moving van for one last moment. He hadn’t texted you, hadn’t looked up towards your window.

He’d just left, and you’d sat here and watched him go.

You rotated in place, wobbling as Seokjin slipped further from your life. You adjusted to the procession. Life hurtled on.

–

The first time you brought a boyfriend home, you were twenty-four. Three years had passed since Seokjin moved away, two since you moved out of your parents and into your “swanky” apartment, one since Minji had moved to her own place not too far from you.

You didn’t have any expectations for your parents’ Christmas Eve party - the three Kim kids were around some Christmases, but not all. You hadn’t seen all three of them on the same day since before Seokjin had moved out. You knew Minji was coming - you’d texted. The boys? Who knew.

You were excited to see Minji for the first time in a while. You were nervous to bring your boyfriend around your extended family. You were trying desperately to keep Seokjin from even crossing your mind. You weren’t excited to see him. You weren’t nervous to see him. You tried to keep the Seokjin part of your brain perfectly blank as you led your boyfriend, Daniel, up the front walk of your parents’ house, careful to point out the ever-present icy patch near the front door.

Your parents greeted Daniel warmly. You’d been dating about two months, and he’d met them not that long ago. He was a nice guy, at the end of the day.

“Come on,” you murmured to him, after you’d hung up your coats and taken off your shoes. “I have to introduce you to my aunts. I’m sorry in advance?”

He’d look at you wide-eyed, nervous. “Why are you sorry?”

“They’re just… loud,” you’d said, already steeling yourself for the squeals and hullabaloo.

Daniel held up surprisingly well, smiling genuinely and repeating everyone’s name back to them to make sure he remembered it. He was a nice guy.

Christmas Eve dinner went smoothly. You sat near Minji, the two of you catching up in quiet voices as the loud conversation flowed around you. Daniel, bless him, kept up with the larger conversation, taking a more active role with your family than you were.

After the meal, people floated around the house in groups. Someone put on a Christmas movie in the living room, you helped your mom put desserts out in the dining room.

You were standing in the living room, leaning against Daniel a little, chatting with Minji and watching the Christmas movie over her shoulder when the front door opened, shooting a blast of winter air through the room. That’s what made you look up - the chill.

Seokjin came through the door with his eyes down, working his feet out of his boots before the door was even shut behind him.

“Jinnie!” Minji cried.

A few things happened in quick succession. Your chest clenched, your stomach dropped.

Seokjin’s gaze followed his sister’s voice, then found you. You watched it on his face as he processed - seeing you, recognition and affection flickering to life, then confusion as he took in the stranger behind you, and then his face went absolutely unreadable.

Daniel wrapped his arm around you, hard, pulling you against him wordlessly. He’d never been so assertive the whole time you’d known him.

Later, he’d asked you, “Is there history with you and Minji’s brother? It seemed, when he showed up…”

Weeks later, when he ended things, bitterness caused him to spit, “Call Minji’s brother and cry about it.”

So much for a “nice guy”.

You’d wished you could call Minji’s brother to cry about it. He would have made you smile again.

–

Jin’s shoulders were under your fingers, his ragged breath in your ear, his lips on your jaw. Nothing existed but him. Everything you’d spent almost your entire life hoping for was right here, within grasp - he’d called you beautiful, he’d pressed his lips to yours like he’d die if he didn’t, he kept you safe in the space between your arms if only for a few moments.

Then, he’d stepped away carefully, holding you up a bit until you were steady on your feet again. You adjusted your skirt as he zipped his jeans and stepped away towards the trash bins - to deal with the condom, you realized. Then he was back, close enough that you could see him in the dark again.

You didn’t know what to say to him. You didn’t know how to ask if this was what you hoped it was - if he wanted you, really wanted you, wanted to be with you. You didn’t want to look stupid - stupider - if this was just sex, nothing else.

“You probably shouldn’t come in right after me,” Seokjin said. Was there something glum in his voice, or were you paranoid? “Minji will sniff that out so fast.”

“Yeah,” you said. Your voice sounded warped to your own ears. “Got it.”

Got it. This didn’t mean a thing.

You stayed there, pressed close to the house, hiding in the shadows long enough for your pulse to calm, long enough to start to shiver. You hadn’t gone back inside at all - instead, you’d crossed the street and entered your parents’ house, falling asleep in your childhood bed.

It was fitting. You’d cried yourself to sleep as a child and teenager plenty of times in that bed. Might as well do it again.

In the morning, New Year’s Day, you’d texted Minji, “what’s up at your house?”

She’d answered, “dad just took jinnie to catch his plane. why? whats up?”

You’d played it off, said something like “just wondered if you were as hungover as i am”. You laid on your childhood bed and stared at the ceiling, tracing the bumps and cracks you knew by heart. You reminded yourself that you hadn’t asked Jin for anything, hadn’t told him anything. You had no right to be upset with him.

The only move was forward. So, that’s what you would do. You’d move on, and so would he.

Which doesn’t explain why now, two years later, you’re furious again.

You avoid the neighborhood, try to slip back into your old habits and old routine.

Your mother, of course, calls you out.

“Haven’t seen you in a bit,” she says to you on the phone, a few days after you’d made Jin hangover soup. She keeps her voice so innocent, but you hear the unsaid - you were here so much and then you stopped.

“Want to go out for dinner?” you suggest. “I’ll treat you and Dad to somewhere good?”

“I already started cooking for later,” she says. She sounds sorry, but you’re beyond sure it’s all a trap. She proves you right by adding, “You could come here for dinner, though. I made your favorite.”

Of course you did, you tricky devil, you think darkly.

“Okay,” you say, long-suffering. “I’ll come for dinner.”

“We’ll see you at seven,” your mom says, and hangs up.

You feel entirely like you’ve been hoodwinked. You’re just not sure how yet.

When you arrive for dinner, you walk in warily, half expecting an unpleasant surprise of some sort. But you find just your parents, delicious food, and a quiet house.

You eye your mother suspiciously through the whole meal, but nothing out of the ordinary happens. You help your dad wash the dishes when you’re all done, spend a little time sitting around chatting. Eventually, you eye the clock and tell them you should get home. You give them quick hugs at the door and step out into the night, pulling the door shut behind you.

Across the street, the Kims’ house is all lit up. Minji’s car is parked in the street, not far from your own, which means she’s there too. You wonder how many more days Seokjin will be in town, before he fucks off back to his own city again. He’d said he’d stay for a few weeks, and you’re already nearing the halfway point.

You were stupid to even talk to him again. You were stupid to go to their house, knowing he was there. You were stupid to let him flirt with you at the bar, to nearly let him kiss you. You were stupid to show up, uninvited, and fucking cook for him like a goddamn girlfriend. You shouldn’t have done any of it. You should have stayed away.

You’re all worked up, thinking this, as you stalk through your parents’ front yard, pushing the button to unlock your car. You open the driver’s side door, still fuming, furious at yourself.

The door is jerked out of your hand as someone slams it shut.

Seokjin faces you darkly, one hand still on your car.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you scold him. “Seokjin, what the fuck.”

“We have a conversation to finish,” he says, ignoring this.

You close your eyes, lean sideways onto your car. You don’t have the energy for this. “I have nothing to say,” you tell him, opening your eyes again to look up at him. “I’m sorry I threw a cheap shot at you. All that… it doesn’t matter now.”

“It doesn’t matter?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

You shake your head. “It was so long ago, and it didn’t mean anything… I shouldn’t have even brought it up again.”

His brows furrow. He murmurs your name, the same way he had in the back hallway at the bar. “I don’t think you mean that,” he says gently, and it makes you even angrier, angry that you have to stand here and feel foolish while he gets to pity you.

“Which part?” you snap. “It was two years ago, we haven’t talked in those two years, and bringing it up has been completely fucking pointless, so where’s the lie?”

He grimaces, shaking his head a little. “I wondered for months if I’d hurt you… if you were upset. I was really hoping you weren’t. But, clearly…”

“Fuck you,” you tell him, a derisive laugh edging its way into your tone. “You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and feel bad about it two years later. I’m over it - I’ve been over it. I just never got to tell you to your face that you were an asshole, and now I can.”

“I was in a bad place that night,” he says, trying to explain. “I only -”

“I don’t want your explanation,” you snap, cutting him off. “Believe it or not, Seokjin, I’m not, like, dying to hear the list of reasons why you were out of your head enough to make a mistake like me, that night.”

He literally steps away, eyes wide, his hand falling from your car and slapping the side of his leg as it lands. “Mistake?” he echoes, horrified. “Is that what you think?”

This trips you, knocks you completely off the furious track you’d been barreling down. “What?” you say, unconsciously trying to buy yourself time to process, to formulate a response.

He steps back toward you, closing the space between you. One of his hands comes up and rests on your cheek. For some reason, you let it, staying still and allowing it. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “It didn’t mean nothing. It wasn’t a mistake, and I should never have let you think differently.”

And then he’s kissing you, slow and gentle, nothing like the fiery kiss you’d shared two years ago. His thumb strokes your cheek so gently it almost tickles. You open for him, letting him take you deeper, tilting your head back to give him more room as he shifts to press you against your car. Your mouth moves against his, his tongue teasing at your bottom lip. Then he’s sucking lightly at it as you sigh against his lips. Your hands are clutching his jacket, your hips pushing against his like they’re asking for trouble.

And then you’re opening both hands and pushing him away, scrambling to get your car door open again. He looks at you, bewildered, your name a question falling from his lips.

“I can’t do this again,” you tell him brokenly, as honest as you can be. “I can’t do it again. I think it’ll kill me if I do.”

You drop heavily into the driver’s seat, tug the door shut, and pull away. You buckle up as you drive away, Seokjin getting smaller and smaller in your side mirror, standing in the middle of the street in the dark, watching you go.

You drive five more blocks and then pull over, pressing your hands to your face as you gasp for air through shuddering, stomach-clenching sobs.

Seokjin was seventeen the first time you got drunk at his house, really drunk.

He felt responsible, since it had been his own fault - it was his friend Yoongi who’d come over with a handle of vodka. He’d been the one to tell you and Minji you could have a little. So when he watched you use hands and feet to climb the stairs and head up towards his kitchen, he’d followed, to make sure you didn’t fall down and get hurt.

He knew you’d gone outside because you’d left the kitchen door wide open. He’d followed, silently, closing the kitchen door behind himself. You were laying on your back in the yard, hands clutching fistfuls of grass, eyes on the sky above.

He’d laid next to you, a few feet away, asked you how the yard was.

“Spinning,” you’d told him, the word so badly slurred he almost couldn’t tell what you’d said.

And then you’d flopped your head towards him, those eyes swimming with something he thought he could understand, and you’d said, “Sometimes I feel like everyone looks right through me. Like maybe I’ll be see-through forever.”

Seokjin had reached across the grass, taking your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. He’d given your hand one squeeze, and you’d closed your eyes, turning your face back up towards the stars.

“I can see you,” he’d assured you. He didn’t know if you’d remember in the morning or not. But it had felt important to make sure you knew.

He could see you.

He had always been able to see you.

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ehehehehe i hope you liked this update!!! a little peek backwards :) thank you for reading and i hope you continue to enjoy!!!!!

i'm taking a week off of posting because I am traveling for a Family Event (send help) so part 3 will post on Friday, June 16th. thank you for understanding!

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starheirxero · 5 months

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New and improved pinned post yay!!

Welcome to my silly little blog!! I blog about whatever I want whenever I feel it and there's nothing anyone can do about it ^_^

Please be aware that my blog will occasionally contain fictional gore(both of the organic and robotic kind), angst, whump, body horror, cannibalism, and potentially other such dark topics in both written and visual form! All will be tagged appropriately so they can be blacklisted. If you want to see which tags you should block, visit the tags masterpost at the bottom.

I also feel it worth noting that, when reblogging ships, I don't use the "character x character" format, but rather the "character/character" format. If there's any ships you absolutely never want to see, then I would go ahead and add that format to your filtered tags. (Essentially saying: you will not be entitled to financial compensation if you get jumpscared by solar/ruin, eclipse/sun, or (non-tsams) sun/moon, etc etc.)

If you want to see my work you visit the #xero creations or #xero snippets tag! I am barely active anywhere outside of Tumblr but I do have my Ao3 and my reblog side blog, reblogheirxero!

That being said, I do not allow reposts of my art anywhere!! If you use my art as your icon or as your banner, please credit me on your profile! Preferably, I'd also appreciate it if you asked or told me you were doing this, but I understand that won't always be possible.

With that being out of the way, please feel free to check out my tags masterpost, my TSAMS AU and designs masterpost, and my FAQ as well!

[Last updated May 12th of 2024]

#pinned post #sona stuff #xero creations

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simonsquest · 6 months

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A playlist of tracks inspired by Simon's first siege on Castlevania. :) It's significantly shorter than my last playlist, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. Like last time, I highlighted pertinent lyrics under the cut and included a link to each song on YouTube.

Genres: Power metal, symphonic metal, metalcore

Please be advised the lyrics can be quite graphic.

DRACULA X! - MARC HUDSON, JACKY VINCENT, ADRIENNE COWAN (warning: flashing images in the video) Alive under the blackened skies The hunter waits in disguise For the evil one's in sight tonight And the time is right Behind veils of a masquerade Descend brave and nameless heroes We will strike tonight, protect what's right Beneath the cover of moonlight For the sake of mankind, we must lead the blind And vanquish all the demons Across the devil's red sand, through thе archways grand A neverending mazе See the angels of light ever falling Voices on high ever calling "Now is the time to make a stand!" We strike, fighting through hordes of undead Searching the chambers unending For our one desire, the great vampire And banishing his soul with fire See the angels of light ever falling Voices on high ever calling "You will die now and leave this world!" In the castle walls Where the demons crawl We will end this reign of endless night As the palace burns Justice shall return And lift the shadows that once eclipsed the earth Until the day you rise again When the sun shines again over the promised land Forever enshrined upon our hands, the fate of every man See the sunlight fade away, behold the night again and witness The rising dust, call for blood, breaking the minds of men Yet the fear inside falls away tonight For our destiny awaits us As the prophecies spoke through the ages told The sun will shine again Leave behind all of life's fleeting stories Come forth tonight into glory Raise your swords high and storm the gates!

POWER OF WILL - DYNAZTY I'm here to burn down the past I rise to build something to last I shall refuse to ever bend Through the storm that has no end I'm gonna make the wrong be right No matter what I stand before I'll be afraid no more I am here, I'm awake 'Cause this world is mine to take Through the power of will I'll find my still again I will take the pain and let it make me strong 'cause I believe There's a force no pain can kill The power of will I've seen the bridge over all grief It's the power of belief I'm gonna cross it all with ease I'm gonna bend realities I know the way out of the dark I hold the compass in my heart, yes I'll tear down the past, build something to last I'll walk through the towering shadows been cast Through power of will I'll shatter the still Turn every stone till all the lies have been killed I'll bend, never break, I'll earn what I make I'll stand up for what I believe is at stake My will's made of stone, it's infused to the bone It's a fire-lit force with the potency of a cyclone

CALL OF THE WILD (FEAT. HANSI KURSCH) - POWERWOLF When in the night at the altar we're standing Staring at the icon on the wall When we unite for the sermon pretending The holy word by our blood we're defending Wear the crown of thorns to praise the fall Stand up, tonight we raise the call We bring the call of the wild to the sign of the sacristy Rest in the eye of our sanctity Before the dawn we are hallowed and praying Another night, all the sermon obeying Breaking down the altar and the verse Preaching all the night to break the curse

INCENSE & IRON - POWERWOLF Follow the dead in the dark of damnation Pious in head and a demon at heart Sworn to the night, an evangelist nation born Under the sign of the dark Gather the wild from the horde of the brave men Brothers allied, fight the storm of this curse Combat ahead and the night calls for heroes Ready for fire command Revel in red come and wake up to bring no remorse Stand up as force Rise over the dead, bring us ahead, incense and iron Fight all of the night, banners up high to the top of the land Right into the red, all you can get, incense and iron Stand, follow the fight, doing the right as we come to defend

LET’S BURY THE HATCHET… IN YOUR HEAD - ICE NINE KILLS You sold our souls, so burn in Hell You fucking did this to yourself again Now, bow your head You suffocated us for the last time We paid the price for your pathetic vice So now we're taking back what's ours: Our name, our blood, our life, our cause! Oh! So, wake up Here's a mirror so you can see This crooked, spineless, disgusting man That's become your legacy Here and now I'm pulling all my strings I have with God I'm hoping to find a better way I pray the only thing I need is time To rid the world of your lunacy You're as faithful as a false prophet So, here's a prophecy for you: Yeah, you'll remember me (remember me, remember me!) When you're struggling to breathe! Can't you see what a monster you've become? I couldn't watch the world through your eyes Salvation for you's in the hands of God So save your prayers and just beg for life I'm fucking done with you

THE PLOT SICKENS - ICE NINE KILLS We’ll make it out alive Lord hear our prayer across the air Is God’s intent final decent or just a test of our faith? If we have to crawl out, in spite of this hell We’ll find a way out, we’ll find a way out Left behind by God or the devil himself To find a way, find a way, to make it out alive The sight at hand, gruesome and grand, cannot be rectified Searching for signs of life in wreckage we can’t recognize We cry out for those who can’t be saved One foot on sacred ground and one foot in the grave Steady we climb, ready to die To look salvation in the eye If we have to crawl out, in spite of this hell We’ll find a way, find away, to make it out alive

FEED THE FLAME - THAUROROD Fire from the heart Master it while you are Searching for truth Of our lives You are the light Walk through the fire To enter the light Banish the eternal night Stand tall and proud Let your heart feed the flame Things will never again Be the same This much is true Heaven or hell It starts with you Change begins with yourself Reach for the light In our lives Fight the good fight

EAGLEHEART - STRATOVARIUS All through the night he is lying awake Wondering how much more can he take Watching the walls where the shadows dance Drifting away into a trance And his eyes are blazing with fire Dreams burnt to ashes so many times Highest of mountains, still he climbs Ready to fly 'cause he just can't stay Flame burning brighter with every day And his eyes are blazing with fire Longing for the deepest desire Fever is burning in his veins Determined with courage, breaking the chains Back against the wall, under blood red skies Prepared to fight until he dies

#akumajou dracula #castlevania #simon belmont #castlevania (1986)#my art

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pluvialpoet · 2 years

Text

a pact of ice & fire

Summary: when war divides the seven kingdoms and an alliance is pledged upon your family’s behalf, you seek to make a traitorous pact of your own- with your family’s sworn enemy

Pairing: aemond targaryen x stark!fem!reader

Requested: no

Warning: mentions of scars (both aemond & reader), physical pain & suffering, familial betrayal, slight angst, possible spoilers for fire & blood/hotd- do not read if you are not comfortable with the warnings listed above!!!

Word Count: 2,076

masterlist

“Lady Stark,” The shadows speak your name, coaxing you from the silence- and the stillness- of your thoughts with the interruption of a low, deep timbre. Perhaps if a flame were present- by candle, torch, or fire burning in the hearth- it might’ve illuminated trembling hands or fidgeting fingertips, but such actions remain eclipsed by a soft, barely there flicker of moonlight. Shielded by enough darkness to present a poised front, you gather fistfuls of your skirts and drop down to a curtsy, bowing before the man who has not yet stepped into the light, and a chill- much cooler than you’re familiar with- fills the air.

He regards you silently, and his judgment is deafening- intimidating, even. Surrounded by stillness- a void of darkness and quiet- you’re not sure what to make of the fact that he’s accepted your invitation. He’s abided by the ink from your quill with only the shadows to bare witness to such a clandestine affair, and you wonder if the umbra hides an enemy or an ally.

“Rise,” The walls command with an authority that seeps into the waddle and daub that shields the two of you from the rest of the town- voluntarily trapping you within a pile of mud, manure, and straw. Upon your request, he has agreed to meet- but that is the extent of any jurisdiction you might’ve once held. Now, you are to abide by his demands, surrendering what little power you’ve grown accustomed to under your old title in favor of submission to his instruction and cause. It is a vow silently made- an unspoken promise you will uphold regardless of what happens when twilight unveils the illusion of benevolence come morning. When the sun rises, nothing will be the same. “If it is counsel you seek, I urge you- once more- to seek an audience with my brother, the king.”

“It is not just counsel I’ve traveled far for,” Your words don’t fill the space as his do, your tone not as sure nor assertive as he is, but they reach his ears, nevertheless- along with a glimpse of your motive as you step towards the light. “It is your counsel that has guided my trek.”

The confession isn’t earned, and the sincerity of such a remark is skewed by your urgency to meet. Desperation doesn’t warrant reliance, and despite a rather convincing plea for his company, Aemond knows better than to offer his trust blindly. Perhaps you will become an ally, but, as it stands, you are his foe. Pretty words of promise won’t change the simple fact that you’ve sided with his enemy, and until your pledges of loyalty and devotion come to fruition, that is what you’ll remain- an enemy.

“I stand before you now, and I’m growing quite tiresome of speaking in riddles,” He forewarns as his patience dwindles, urging you to reveal your true intentions before what little tolerance he holds towards the exchange fades away completely. “Speak your purpose,”

“I am not a traitor to your cause, my prince.” With a breath, you explain, “Whilst it is true that my family has held little interest in the political squabbles of the court, until late, it was not I who swore allegiance to your nephew- nor is it I who supports your sister’s claim to the throne.”

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon had traveled a great distance to meet with your brother, Cregan. He braved wind and snow and lost a few noble men along the way, but when he finally arrived, he sought to secure an alliance with your family that would grant him the banners his family needed to turn the tides of war in their favor. As far removed as you had managed to stay from the destruction and chaos of their battle, even you and your family weren’t immune to the tragedies of such conflict. As those across the seven kingdoms bled, you too felt he effects of carnage and wrath- a poison that filled you with rage and sorrow, doubt and terror- and when words of siding with the young prince, whose family was responsible for so much havoc and suffering, were spoken allowed, you felt the sharp sting of betrayal claim you as another victim to their cause.

“It is my brother whom expects me to uphold the same honor and loyalty he swore our name to under the guise of seeing a ghost.” Cregan was blinded by the resemblance Princess Rhaenyra’s firstborn son held to your late brother, and when a glimpse of traits thought to be long lost and forgotten provided him with a glimmer of the past, he aligned himself with the boy- hoping to mimic the union of brotherhood he had lost. You do not share the same sentiment. “I come bearing information about the tactics your nephew, sister, and uncle plan to use to infiltrate the city- along with the number of banners and weapons that will soon paint the streets with blood.”

It’s hard to distinguish warning from threat- sincerity from deceit- and he regards you carefully. He grapples with morality whilst digesting your words, unsure what to make of them. Your name has been a whisper in the wind throughout his life- an echo carrying tales of not only your family’s strength, but your character, as well- and though you’ve never met, he hardly recognizes the imposter that stands before him in the space where he expected a loyal woman to occupy. You may not have betrayed him- yet- but by requesting to meet with him, you’ve already betrayed your family’s trust.

If you’re willing to sever a bond as ardent as the one shared between blood, what’s to stop you from betraying him- when the opportunity presents itself?

“What is it that you seek in return?” He seeks the answers he can not infer. Though Aemond doubts he’ll reep the reward of words of honesty and truth, he challenges you to speak freely- curious to discover what you think will negate the cost of your betrayal.

He prepares for gold. He waits for you to ask for gems, jewels, or other abundant luxuries the North is deprived of. He expects greed and corruption- gluttony and sin- but with a shaky breath, audible in the silence that’s settled in the space of a reply, you step forward. Uneasy, his grip on the hilt of his sword tightens. Ready to brandish the blade if need be, he stands ready to attack- his heart racing at the thought of claiming the Stark girl as another forgotten casualty- but when your fingertips hesitantly reach for the veil that conceals your face from his view, his grip on his weapon goes as slack as his jaw.

“When I was a girl, I was mauled by a direwolf.” Having never bared yourself in such a way to anyone other than your family, you lack the courage to meet his gaze. Instead, you avert your stare to the cracks below your feet. “Though they’ve been on the brink of extinction, I spotted a pup in the woods and thought him to be injured.” The memory causes your scars to burn white hot with a pain so blistering that your eyes start to water. Perhaps, your tears are due in equal parts shame, humiliation, and sorrow. “His whimpers drew me closer, and when I reached him, I discovered that he was not injured- perhaps just scared, or lonely.” The irony that reflects your sentiment fills your mouth with a phantom metallic tang. “Tempted by the small creature, I thought it best to take him back to the maester, and it wasn’t until after I had tucked the pup under my arm and began my journey home that I realized that his mother was close by. She pinned me down, and-“ The three jagged claw marks on your cheek scarred over angry red and deep, dark purple speak for themselves. “It was my eldest brother whom suggested a falsity of immense beauty be projected across the realm, born from his shame of having a mauled sister.”

Aemond steps forward to get a closer look, and your breath catches when he finally steps into the light.

“For many years I lived in that same shame.” You wince, feeling far too vulnerable in front of a stranger than you’ve ever been before. “I’ve donned my veil and hid behind silk and lace because I believed myself unworthy of anything less than ridicule- until tales reached Winterfell about a young prince who had been marred, similarly.” Most of your youth was lost to suffering and shame, and it wasn’t until word of the maimed prince had reached your ears that your dread began to dissipate.“Perhaps the whispers in the wind are misinformed, but I heard that it was your own nephew who stole your eye from you and disfigured you- your own flesh and your own blood so envious of all the greatness you possess that he maimed you out of spite.” His nostrils flare, and when he offers no reply, you step forward. “I’ve never seen another before, and though tales of your mark have oft been traded as lore and warning, they were wrong when referring to your wound as a flaw.”

His cheeks flush at the implication beyond words unspoken. Though, he doesn’t consider the sentiment to be genuine.

“You are wed to a Baratheon daughter, so I offer a pact of ice and fire of our own- beyond marital union,” The muscle in his jaw clenches as he grits his teeth at the reminder of his wife- a woman who does not understand him, a woman who holds a strong aversion towards him despite their union, a woman who he’s forced himself to try to love, but to no avail. “I seek familiarity from someone who knows what it is like to suffer under the weight of such an unbearable pain.” Though it’s your voice that confesses, it’s as though the words have been stolen from his tongue- unlocked from somewhere deep inside the center of his chest. “I seek the knowledge of someone who understands what it is like to live in the shadows because the light has been stolen from you.” Your lip begins to quiver and the tips of his fingers twitch involuntarily. “Perhaps it is juvenile, but what I truly seek is a companion who identifies with the same struggles and sorrow, as I do.”

You do not seek revenge. You do not seek someone to ease your pain, but rather someone who understands it- a partner to bask in the darkness with- and Aemond struggles to put his thoughts into words.

“It is beautiful,” You whisper softly, in genuine awe, whilst the tips of your fingers brush against the lowest part of his scar. The touch- not hesitant, but gentle- is barely there and comforting. Only someone who knows such pain would know how to handle a mark riddled with damage. No one, save for his mother and the maesters, has ever regarded him with such care. Having grown so used to feelings of abhorrence and shrewdness, Aemond doesn’t know what to make of the ice from your touch soothing the flame against his skin. It’s a balance he never imagined possible, an ease he never dreamed himself worthy of. The look upon his face is unreadable, and when your kind, gentle, understanding touch threatens to leave him, he grips your wrist with a swiftness that startles you both. “Forgive me, Prince Aemond, I-“

You’ve overstepped. You’ve forgotten yourself and your place. Whatever fleeting courage compelled you to reach out and touch him might have cost you the alliance you’ve dreamt of for ages. Foolishly, you’ve treated the man before you as an ally- without vows of devotion or alliance- and perhaps that is your biggest fault. With traces of regret and fear in your eyes, you begin to apologize, but Aemond’s voice fills the silence before you have a chance to.

“I understand.” He assures you, taking a step closer and loosening his grip around your wrist. Though, he doesn’t let go completely. Perhaps, it’s because he’s not ready to part from where your flesh is adjoined, or perhaps he wants the chance to grow familiar with frost in his veins. Either way, when your eyes narrow, searching for an explanation and trying to make sense of the vagueness of his reply, he solemnly whispers, “I understand.”

tagging a few writers I admire: @mypoisonedvine @em-writes-stuff-sometimes @becauseicantdecide @aemonds-war-crime @aemonds-sapphire @ewanmitchellcrumbs @aemonds-targaryen @womprat00 @theold-ultraviolence

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(can't tell if I love this or hate it lol)

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell x reader #hotd #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine

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