#intense is a better word. but i do love it and i do have a complex relationship with it already. thank you

[mononijikayu]

gum— ryomen sukuna.

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!

WARNING/S: nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, smut, oral (female receiving) fingering, orgasm, humor, teasing, flirting, playfulness, possessiveness, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, depiction of sexual acts, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, bad boy bf! sukuna, goodie two shoes gf!;

WORD COUNT: 1.2k words.

NOTE: the song ggum by txt's yeonjun is stuck in my head and i just??? i can't stop listening to it right now. i want to stop, but like??? its really really good. anyway, i'm working on other things right now and most of them are going to be in the longer format. but i hope you enjoy them anyway. i'll be back with something new soon!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IF THERE’S ANYTHING SUKUNA’S GOOD AT, IT'S CHEWING GUM AND WINNING YOU. And your boyfriend revels in it. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your fingers tangling in the sheets beneath you as Ryomen Sukuna’s mouth works you over with expert precision.

It’s a sight you never thought you’d be part of—a "goodie two-shoes" girl, everyone’s picture-perfect student, tangled up with the campus bad boy. But here you are, completely undone. He’s the only one who can do this to you. And he knows it.

You could feel his rough hands grip your thighs firmly, keeping you pinned down while his tongue moves skillfully against your throbbing core. He grinned as though he was delighted. Because you know he was. You knew that he was happy, that none would see him the way he does. No one's allowed to see his goodie two shoes like this but him. And no one will.

You can't stop the loud echoing moans spilling from your lips, the intensity of his mouth sending sparks through your body. Your hips move on their own, grinding against his face as his tongue flicks and curls in a rhythm that drives you to the edge.

You glance down, and the sight of him between your legs only adds fuel to the fire. His bright scarlet eyes lock with yours, a wicked gleam in them as he gives you a grin, never slowing his pace. Your face twists in pleasure, a mix of gasps and whimpers falling from your lips. Your boyfriend’s the most wicked man in the world. And you’re excited about it. 

You feel like you’re going to lose it, your body trembling, legs shaking as he pulls you deeper into a euphoric haze. You haven’t come in a while, not even when you want to. You were too crazy about not failing your exams. And Sukuna respected that. But you know it too well that it got the best of him too, to wait. He likes pleasure as much as he loves you. And Sukuna adores having both. 

Even with his tongue buried deep between your thighs, Ryomen Sukuna’s bad-boy persona never falters. You catch the faintest scent of mint—he’s chewing gum, the same cocky grin stretching across his lips while he devours you like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

You don't know why he does it. But he does this sometimes. And he enjoys it. So you feel the sweetness of his mouth and the mint of his breath take you in as though there was nothing sweeter or delicious in the world than you.

The rhythm of his tongue never stops, even as he adjusts his jaw slightly, that damn piece of gum rolling from one side of his mouth to the other. It’s maddening, the way he’s so casual about it, like he isn’t unraveling you entirely, like he’s not completely in control.

Your body’s trembling, skin on fire as you push your hips harder against his mouth, chasing the wave of pleasure building with every stroke of his tongue. He hums against your soaked core, and the vibration sends a shudder up your spine. 

"Mm, tastes better than gum, doll." he murmurs, his voice muffled, laced with amusement. "You tastin' so good, even better than before."

He doesn't even stop to swallow his words, just dives back in, his grip on your thighs tightening, pulling you closer to his face. You bite your lip to stifle a scream, overwhelmed by the sensation. It was all too much. And yet you still craved for more.

Your legs begin to shake uncontrollably, and Sukuna seems to revel in it, his mouth never losing its cruel, delicious pace. You’re so close, teetering on the edge, and the sound of him lazily chewing that gum only heightens the absurdity, making your head spin.

You grind against his face, desperate for release, and with a low growl, Sukuna pushes you over the brink. The world around you shatters into blinding pleasure as your body shakes and trembles under his relentless mouth. His tongue doesn’t let up, riding you through the waves, leaving you breathless and spent, pinned under the weight of his wicked grin.

Your chest heaves as you struggle to catch your breath, still trembling from the intense orgasm Sukuna just pulled from you. Unshed tears pooling in your eyes, your head slanted to the side, as you take a breath. He made a mess out of you.

He pulls back slightly, lips glistening with evidence of his handiwork, and that damn piece of gum is still in his mouth, rolling lazily over his tongue. He wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, and then, with that smug grin of his, he looks up at you, eyes dark with mischief.

"Didn't expect the good girl to be such a mess, doll." he teases, his voice low and full of that rough-edged charm. His fingers trace lazy circles along your inner thigh, sending aftershocks through your overstimulated body. “You sure you're not addicted to this already?”

You try to glare at him, but your body betrays you, hips still twitching slightly, aching for more despite everything.

"S-Shut up!" you manage to gasp, but it’s weak, your voice shaky from how thoroughly he wrecked you. The smirk on his face grows wider as he leans forward, his breath hot against your thigh.

"You’re all shy and innocent in class, doll." he continues, his voice dripping with arrogance. "But when you're spread out for me, you can’t stop begging for it, huh?"

His words are teasing, cruel in a way that makes your pulse quicken, but there’s something magnetic in the way he says it. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and it’s infuriating. You try to sit up, but he pushes you back down gently, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before trailing his mouth back up toward your sensitive core.

"What’s the rush, doll, hm?" he purrs, eyes locked on yours, completely unbothered. "I’m not done with you yet. I’m still…hungry."

You can feel him smirking against your skin as he slides a finger through your slickness, deliberately slow, watching your reaction. "Look at you, doll." he drawls, clearly enjoying every second of your helplessness. "Already soaked again. Guess I’m pretty good at this, huh?"

You grit your teeth, trying not to give him the satisfaction of another moan, but your body betrays you, heat pooling in your stomach again. His finger teases you mercilessly, sliding just barely inside before pulling away, leaving you aching for more.

"Come on, just admit it, doll." he coaxes, clearly reveling in your frustration. "You love it when I do this, don't you?" His finger circles your entrance again, maddeningly slow, as he leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "Tell me, doll. Tell me how much you love it."

You want to resist, but the words slip out in a breathless whisper before you can stop them. You mewl in pleasure. "I love it. I love it so much, baby!"

Sukuna chuckles darkly, satisfied. "That’s my bestest girl, hm?”

[superhoeva]

Hi hi 👋 hopping the older bf! Logan wave to talk about him cause I’m obsessed with him. Idk what version of older Logan we are necessarily talking about, but I just imagine him being the type of bf that always needs to have his hands on you. He’s already a naturally dominant man, his demeanor speaks for himself, he doesn’t have to prove shit to nobody and he isn’t one to do so much PDA in public.

But when it comes to being with you, he likes to show others you that at the end of the day, you chose him in comparison to the other young fuckers nearby. A hand on your waist, another on your thigh when you’re sitting together. Sometimes if he’s really feeling it, he’ll place a kiss on your neck right on your pulse, smiling when it feels it thrum his touch. Older bf! Logan and casual dominance/manhandling >> love that.

an arm's around your waist. his hand fiddling with the hem of your shirt, exposing just a sliver of the skin of your stomach to the guy trying not to drool over you.

you're obvious to the desires, struggling to stay interested in the conversation with the intense gazes logan is sending you. he'd checked out as early the schmuck rattling off his name to the two of you, much more interested in how that one spot on your neck taste tonight.

the man is stuttering his way through the sentences now, nerves getting the better of him. eventually, he just decides to stop, wondering what's the use when logan drags you back against him by the belt loop of your jeans.

"nice chattin', bub. see you around, yeah?"

logan's words come with a sharp pat the the arm of the guy, who jolts at the force before slinking off to somewhere you don't care about. you don't even have a chance to blink before logan's yanking you toward the exit of the bar, rolling his eyes at the dopey smile on your face.

"you're cute when you're jealous."

"shut up and get in."

your grin stays, as a begrudging humor lilts a little of logan's tone. you can hear the tiny smirk on his face while he drags you to the passenger side of his truck. popping open the door, logan offers you his hand, helping you into the vehicle.

you press a peck into his cheek after he straps your seatbelt for you before heading to the drivers seat. he shuts the door with a sigh, not bothering the ignite the engine before slumping and turning your way with a knowing look on his face.

a short giggle leaves you at the slightly annoyed look in his eye.

"you didn't wanna stay and talk to our new friend?"

"my boot would'a had to have been surgically removed out of his ass if i'd stayed in there any longer."

with that, logan turns the key and revs the pickup to life. a hand plants itself onto your thigh, squeezing in anticipation of all the kneading they'll be doing as soon as the two of you make it back to his place.

older bf!logan tag | send more older bf!logan thoughts!

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[sodamnradd]

“Don’t look,” murmured Theo, twirling a lock of Hermione’s hair around his finger. “But I think he’s jealous.”

“Who?” she whispered, desperately wanting to peek.

“Draco,” he said, caressing her cheek to keep her from checking. “He hasn’t stopped staring at you.”

“In sheer disgust? Draco despises me.”

At work yesterday, he’d insulted her penmanship. Again. Visiting her office for the third day in a row with her memo torn up in scraps, claiming her ‘barbaric handwriting’ was illegible.

“I don’t think so,” he said, leaning in close to make it seem like he was whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She plastered on a dreamy smile and looked up at him through mascara-coated lashes. “It’s a ruse, you know. Him and Astoria. They’re planning a public break up in a week or two. She’s secretly dating a Quidditch player—a half-blood.”

“The horror,” she replied with a feigned gasp. “Is that all you Slytherins do? Scheme and show off?”

“And fall in love with the wrong people,” he replied with a faraway look in his eyes, straightening when a shadow loomed over them. “Alright, mate?”

Malfoy stood at their table, tall and cross. “May I have a word, Granger?”

Theo nudged her ankle under the table and gave her a knowing grin. She shook her head, refusing to buy into his nonsense. Malfoy was probably here to insult her hair or tell her that pink made her look frumpy.

Before she could tell Malfoy to leave them alone, Theo kissed her cheek and told her not to take too long.

She was left with no choice but to follow Malfoy into the rose garden, away from the gossiping crowd. “What is it?” she demanded, prepared for his regular bullshit.

“I saw something earlier that you should know about.” The grave look on his face sparked her interest. “Look. I know I give you a hard time at work now and again—but I’ve come to… to care…” He paused and tried again. “I mean… I think you deserve… not that I…”

“Malfoy,” she said sharply.

He expelled a long breath, then blurted out, “Theo and Potter are fooling around behind your back. I saw them inside earlier.”

She was floored. And then she felt an odd rush of affection for the stormy man standing before her. It had obviously taken a lot to suck up his pride and tell her that. What had he said? Something about caring?

“I’m sorry, Granger.” He hugged her, smushing her face against his warm chest. “Don’t cry. He was probably afraid he’d get caught by his father and used you as a cover up. People do lousy things when they’re desperate. Take it from someone who knows.”

“I’m not crying,” she mumbled, nudging him back. Her heart was racing. “I know about him and Harry. We were faking it so Theo’s father would ease off him. Apparently, dating a Muggle-born witch is slightly less offensive than being gay."

He opened his mouth, then shut it. His cheeks were turning red. It was oddly sweet how he had nothing to say.

“I hear you and Astoria are pulling a similar stunt,” she said in an attempt to make him feel better.

He shrugged; voice strangled. “Family dynamics are fucked out here.”

“Theo says it’s because you all fall in love with the wrong people.” She looked meaningfully into his eyes.

He stared back. “I wouldn’t say ‘wrong’, just...” His gaze was so intense, she felt trapped in it. “…inconvenient.”

“Is that what I am?” she breathed, wondering if Theo was right. Maybe Malfoy wasn’t looking for ways to get under her skin just to be a prick. Maybe he was looking for excuses to get closer to her. “An inconvenience?”

He didn’t verbally respond, but she felt his gaze all over her. The heat emanating off him made her sweat.

She swallowed, overwhelmed. “How long until you and Astoria call it off?”

He tilted his head. “We’re waiting until the Ministry Gala.”

“Maybe Theo and I will split around that time, too,” she suggested, mentally counting down the days and hoping she wasn’t misreading the situation.

His eyelids grew heavy. He licked his lips.

She felt a little drunk with the way he was looking at her.

“Maybe,” she said, stepping closer to fix his tie. He shivered beneath her touch. “You can send me an office memo. Since my handwriting is so offensive.” She tipped her head back, whispering into his ear, “Thank you for telling me about what you saw.”

Hermione left him there speechless, smiling softly to herself as she walked away.

-

Twelve days later, an office memo nose-dived on her desk. She recognized Malfoy’s pristine handwriting, and considered if maybe hers was a bit messy in comparison.

Dinner tonight in Diagon Alley?

The pink memo bloomed into a rose. She lifted it to her nose, enchanted that it smelled like a real one. But more touched that he wanted to take her out publicly.

Pick me up at 7, she wrote, and let the office memo fly.

(847 words, prompt: fake dating for dramione month)

[oversensitiveandoffputting]

Stolas self-sabotages just as much as Blitzø does. Blitzø’s is just much louder and angrier. He is a flash of intense emotion that pushes you away. Stolas’ self-sabotage, in keeping with his character, is much quieter. He purposely puts himself in very uncomfortable and triggering situations (the Anti-Divorce party, the Anti-Blitzø party…lots of anti parties going on in Hell) because he thinks he has to. He assumes others don’t want to be around him so he doesn’t even try to socialize or form deep connections. And I think it’s worth mentioning, for all his talk in Look My Way about wishing he could see past the defenses Blitz has put up to cope with a harsh life, Stolas’ walls are just as strong, possibly stronger, and he has absolutely no intention of weakening them any time soon. Ever, if he gets his way.

Like, Blitz will mask his pain with jokes, but he’ll still…say it. He’ll still say he has daddy issues. He’ll stay say a Prince could never love an imp and he lashed out in fear. He’ll immediately follow it up with something disingenuous, but the words will still leave his mouth.

But remember in Apology Tour? “I’ve never seen you throw them back this hard.”

Blitz is still on the arc of learning to humanize Stolas instead of putting him on a pedestal, but the pedestal thing is partially Stolas’ fault. We don’t know what Blitz knows about Stolas other than Stolas has a kid, had a wife, collects carnivorous plants, is a gay man, and has an imp butler. Maybe he knows some other things, but we don’t know what else, if anything. Considering Stolas’ MO when he’s overwhelmed is to peace out, and Blitzø has abandonment issues…

But Stolas never told him about Stella. Or Paimon. Or that Octavia is a “precautionary heir.” Or the arranged marriage. Or that the other Goetia think he’s a joke. Or that he’s a rape survivor. Or that he struggles with severe mental health issues. Or even that he’s still injured from Striker’s knife wound.

So, if Blitz hadn’t sabotaged everything first, Stolas definitely would have been the one to do it. Probably so subtly, in such small ways, Blitz wouldn’t have even noticed until he came home from work and Stolas wasn’t there, his stuff gone and there being no indication as to why or how to reach him, most likely because the image he was trying to craft of being normal and put together finally cracked. Better get out now before they realize you’re not who you tricked them into thinking you were, right? Blitzø just loves the mask. And the mask has to fall off at some point. The show has to end.

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry [4] | Aemond Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: MDNI 18+!! canon divergence!!! I fucked the timeline and nigly bits bc this was an impulse fic ok soooo it was mostly unplanned, almost smut, angst, let the grovelling happen babyyy, unedited, mention of alys x aemond but not in a good way :((, infidelity, talk of sex, guilt, mentions of Aegon x reader, hmmm I ramble, little vulnerable Aemond, bad language, let me know if I've missed anything!

Author's note: y'all I was never done with that man like there's no easy out for him :llll. Anyways I wrote most of this instead of studying which I needed to do. Perhaps I'll have my hand at another idea I'm cooking before part 5 but I'm alsoooo unsure about how keen we are to keep this one going - like is it getting too much??? either way, I enjoy writing this. and idk how to shut up, clearly, because I love that internal mind talk shit. Drop your thoughts in my inbox or PM me because I love to yap!!! xoxo, kisses!!! <3

Masterlist

-

He was a fool. A spoiled, arrogant and entitled fool. You often thought about whether Aemond actually recognised the effect of his actions on anyone else. It was always ‘I did it for us’ or ‘I did it because I had to do it’.

So after your confrontation the day before, it had surprised you that Aemond had truly believed he was forgiven. Maybe it shouldn’t have. You had, after all, sat beside him and laughed with him. Shared a moment as if things were better. But it was nothing more than a lighthearted acknowledgement that whatever game was being played was entirely ridiculous yet you could feel how something had changed. There was a newfound intensity between the two of you and Aemond had clearly understood that he had made a mistake

But that wouldn't be enough for forgiveness. Things would never really be the same. You will never forget. The nameless woman had made a home in your unconscious mind and everything would remind you of the woman your husband had chosen to take to bed over you. She was beautiful, she was experienced and free of burden. Based on that alone a part of you could see why she could have been a better choice–a part of you that ached and pained ceaselessly. 

And you weren’t sure you could carry on as if Aemond hadn’t thrown your entire world into the pits of ruin. Because that is exactly what he may as well have done. All you had was your marriage to him–a fact that was as painful as it was true. If it all fell apart because of him only you would suffer from it. 

Your name, your family’s name. A Lady born to a house of remarkably lowly nobility with little more than your marriage to the prince. A charity case marriage to tell the realm’s people that the Crown was not so prejudiced as to be above uniting with the likes of your house. That the Lannisters and Baratheons were important but they were not everything. A fabrication only made necessary to cover up the fact that it was a lie–the Targaryens (and even the Hightowers as you had come to realise) really did believe they were of better blood. 

A failure to fulfil your duty to the Targaryen crown as Prince Aemond’s wife would destroy your family name. And you would have no prospect of happiness after it. What else did you have aside from this?

Aemond would never understand that. Because not only was he a man but he was a prince. A privilege, a safety and a security he had inherited through birth. 

Aside from the pressures of society, he had hurt you. Badly. 

Despite your own confliction about it, you did have love for Aemond–how could you not? Love came from many things and while yours may have come from your dependance on his word, on the duty he performed to be your protector as he was to the Crown and its subjects, on his polite affections as limited as they were, it still found its way into your heart. Perhaps it was foolish to allow it entry into your existence when you had already known that there was no love to come from Aemond. 

It didn’t change anything. Betrayed your trust, taken you for granted and destroyed the sanctity of a husband’s loyalty as if he were as dishonourable as any other Lord. 

You would never say it out loud but it had broken your heart. And heartache is a consuming, suffocating and painful thing to feel. A constant lump in your throat, something always weighing your chest down, a disastrous, aching discomfort in your belly. Tears had stained your pillow at night and dried by the morning, the fabric of the linen acquiring the same unphased facade that you would wear as you plastered on a mask of ignorance so that you could continue to live through your day. 

All because you had wanted him. Aemond, who was doomed to disappoint and destroy merely because that is all that princes do. 

For him to have mistaken your truce–the end to the back and forth game that had been wreaking havoc in its wake-as forgiveness was infuriating. He had no idea. 

Well, maybe he did. Now that he had seen you with another just as you had seen him. And you recognised your own experience in the moment he had realised what was happening. 

Aemond’s call to breakfast made you want to laugh. But you had turned him down for afternoon tea just the day before only to be found swallowing his brother’s seed. You winced at the shamefulness of your thought, muttering a quick prayer for the sake of your piety whether it was genuine or not. 

He was seated lazily in the chair he favoured, an array of food spread across the table. There was a book in his hand. The same one he had taken from you the last time you had shared your morning meal together. Aemond had a smirk playing on his lips. 

You cleared your throat, curtsying before sitting down at the other end of the table to him and with as much distance between you as you could muster. “Good morrow, my Prince,”

“Formalities, I see,” He looked at you through his lashes. It was odd seeing him so relaxed, the tension that was always in his shoulders had been lost and there was a playful glint to his eye. You wanted to smack it out. “I believed we were past titles and distance for the sake of propriety, my sweet. As well as rigid greetings.”

All you responded with was a stare. 

Dropping the book to his side, Aemond sighed and leaned forward, pouring tea into a cup. He stood, taking a couple steps forward to hand it to you. “We have fixed-”

“We have fixed nothing.”

“I am trying to turn a new leaf,” he commanded. You took the cup and saucer from his hand, the warm waft of vanilla and rose giving you a slight reprieve from the threat that rolled off his tongue. “If you do not recall, dear wife, I as well have every reason to resent you. The image of you sucking on my useless brother’s cock is not one I can easily bare. Yet I have chosen to let it be. I could have easily decided otherwise.”

“That would make you a hypocrite.” You glanced at him over the rim of your teacup. 

“It does not matter much if I am a hypocrite, does it?” Aemond sat, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He wasn’t bothered with the food in front of him, focused solely on you. “I hardly see how that would change anything.”

You squirmed under the intensity of his stare, picking up a cherry from the bowl of fruits and rolling the stem between your fingers. “It matters to me. Certainly, it matters for your reputation among the smallfolk. Nobody cares for a selfish prince, my dear.”

Aemond hummed, smirking at the venom you spat at him. You noticed the coin that he rolled between his fingers, nimble and thoughtless as if it were like breathing. Not so much a nervous habit but a thoughtful one. 

He couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t enjoy your confidence. It was refreshing. But there was a dip in his gut at the thought that there was no hope for the two of you. Aemond, ever logical, knew he had no one else to blame but himself with his lack of foresight and failure to see beyond the now and here. 

Because Aemond had not even considered how things would go on should you not forgive him. He had assumed that you would if not merely on the basis that there was little lost from a relationship that hardly existed in the first place. You had love for him and he was so convinced that such a thing would be impossible that he didn’t consider that it would cause you heartache beyond slighted offence and jealousy. 

A violet eye lingered on the cherry that remained between your fingers. Aemond was good at putting on an act. He thought for a moment that he would rather take lashes to his back than have you know that he had no idea how to love someone properly. A part of him was persuaded that he was incapable of being a good lover. The lashes seemed like a blissful gift compared to the self-loathing that simmered in his belly at the probability that he had ruined any chance your marriage had of recovery.  

It crossed his mind that it was his ignorance towards you right from the beginning that had damned your relationship. 

Either way, it did not help that you had turned to his brother for intimacy. Aemond felt his blood scorch whenever that invaded his mind. He wanted to crumble the walls of this fortress when he wondered if Aegon had enjoyed your womanhood. Jealousy did motivate him well, he realised, and Aemond had the murderous urge to feed Aegon to Vhagar. 

Nonetheless, he feigned amusement. “It seems as if you care for one.”

You ate the cherry. It was sweet and rich. All you replied with was an upturn of your chin as you gracefully held a small embroidered towel to your lips.

“So I am not forgiven?” Aemond had to break the silence before it cut him open. “Are we not even?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you held back a surprised laugh. “You never apologised. Not that it would make any difference.”

“That does not answer my question.”

“Of course you are not forgiven,” you sighed. The tea cup hit the table with a clang. Your disdain for his actions and his ignorance gave you an unfettered confidence around him which you weren’t accustomed to. It made it very difficult to control yourself. “And no, we are not even, my Prince. And since you have brought it to my attention, I am of half a mind to find Aegon and offer him a meal between my thighs. You see, I have often wondered how it would feel and I expect that our King would be happy to indulge my… curiosities.”

Aemond sneered, a silent one that was more visible in his intake of a breath, the curl of his lips and the hardening of his eye. Bullseye. 

It took him less than a couple seconds to be on his knees in front of where you sat, a strong hand tightly gripping each side of your thighs over the thick fabrics of your dress. He had shoved the table aside, unphased as tea spilled and fruits and cheeses toppled to the floor. Something in the look of bewilderment on your face had Aemond ready to both grin at your clueless innocence and frown at your shock.

Aemond didn’t let himself dwell on the fact that you had given up on expecting such pleasures from him. He was your husband; nothing about what he was clearly intending on doing to you should surprise you. Cursing himself to perdition would not be enough for how he has failed you. 

“I feel obliged to remind you that we had agreed,” he grazed his nose across your knees, looking up at you through his eyelashes, jaw clenched tight as he all but growled his words. “That there will be no more of this foolishness. Not from you and not from me.”

It was an onslaught of different things that had rendered you still and silent. The way Aemond looked at you like you were the only satiating force for his eternal hunger, the wordless mixture of desire and anger in how his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, the desperation in his voice, strained by the fear that you would. Or was it the overwhelming feeling that Aemond was finally taking some accountability and that maybe he recognised not what his actions were but the meaning that they carried?

For a moment Aemond just looked at you, conflicted and fragmented and unguarded. The sight of him like this reminded you of a vulnerable child. But it didn’t last long before the menacing, cautionary glint was back in his eye, his posture becoming rigid as shuffled the fabrics of your skirts. 

A new kind of anxiety overcame you. Not like the insignificant nervousness you had felt that night when you had wandered into his chambers or used his leg to make yourself peak and not like the clueless apprehension with Aegon. It formed a ball in your chest and made it hard to breathe. 

There was no chance he would ever admit it but you could see Aemond’s vulnerability and desperation within the hardened facade he had perfected. He wanted nothing more than to seem strong and powerful at all times, worthy of acclaim and reverence. But here he was, willing to stay on his knees and worship you forever, all under the pretence of rageful infatuation. 

It was too hot. Even with the cool of the shadows cast by the dark net curtains that only let in enough daylight to see clearly and not enough to cause Aemond irritation from sensitivity in his eye, it was so warm you worried you would have to rip the sleeves off of your dress.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Aemond let out a soft, dark groan, running his fingers across the expanse of your legs over your stockings, your skirts already bunched at your hips. Skin burning at his touch, you couldn’t help the way you whined and squeezed your thighs together, squirming under the intensity of his gaze. 

His voice was heavy with the burden of lust and regret. “I will be better. In all the ways that I have failed you and more. Your forgiveness, I realise, is not as easily granted as I presumed but I will show you that I am worthy of it.” 

There was a moment of weakness in your mind before you caught yourself. You didn’t quite believe him. It had clearly been too easy for him to give you empty promises and there was no reason why things would be different now. 

It was odd. Seeing Aemond weak like this. 

What would it mean if you let him continue? It was clearly different this time. You couldn’t put it into words exactly but there was a rawness, a blitz of different emotions that set things ablaze and made you want to both weep and mewl for him. 

You couldn’t spare a thought about why it was different. Aemond was right there, a weaponised Prince on his knees for you, a lowly Lady with nothing more to offer him than yourself. Since when did you hold all this power over him? 

That night in his bedchambers and last night when you had shared a laugh despite everything that had unfolded felt detached in a way. When you had allowed yourself release over his leg it was simply that. A way to ease the tension he had put in your body and a way to leave him wanting.

Aemond’s eye swam with a tenderness you had not seen from him. He continued to look up at you waiting to gauge your response. It was a slight nod of your head which had his hands tearing at the soft fabric of your stockings, his lips instantly meeting the skin of your knees before you had the chance to even gasp. All the while, he kept his eye on you as if his heart would cease to beat if he could not watch the way you reacted to him. 

It became increasingly harder to breathe. There were so many thoughts, so many sensations that you struggled to put it all together. Your flushed with anticipation, your cunt throbbed at the wet plushness of his lips on your hot skin and your hips squirmed at what was to come. 

Your mind, however, flashed with the image of Aemond, exactly as he was now, between another woman’s thighs. A woman who didn’t flinch at the unfamiliar touch, who didn’t jerk away at the foreign feeling of being pleasured. You wondered if he would be so angered at the prospect of another man’s mouth on her womanhood, if her skin felt softer or more rough on his lips and if he looked at her with the same heated need.

It made you feel sick. 

Aemond let himself enjoy the way your thighs tensed, pulling your smallclothes off of you as much as carefully as he could under the restriction of your skirts. There was an urge to rip the entire dress off but he knew it would be a step too far. He couldn’t help the low sounds that left him, sounds he couldn’t recognise. The expanse of your thighs and the sight of your flushed, hot cunt in front of him made his mouth water with a hunger that would have shocked him had he not been so distracted by your scent. 

Without complete vision, Aemond had learned to train his sense of touch, taste, smell and hearing to make up for the disadvantage he was stuck with. They were always slightly heightened compared to those who never needed the compensation of senses but in the cloud of desire and lust, he was sensitive. 

You whined at the way his tongue glided over your skin, biting down hard but not hard enough to be painful on the flesh of your upper thigh so close to where you needed to feel him. But Aemond was always remarkably patient and he merely made way to your other leg, repeating his ministrations and licking you from your knee to where he bit you at your thigh. 

The haze that had possessed you made you lose track of your thoughts so easily. Still, they fought their way to the forefront of your mind at every chance they could and you were reminded of her. 

Aemond’s mind was overwhelmed by you. There was no power in the realm that could make him think of anything else, not with the way you were trembling under his feathered touch and making such beautiful sounds for him, and not when he desired for anyone else apart from you. 

A heavy breath of shame and excitement tumbled out of you at how lewdly he dragged the tip of his nose across your thigh, pressing it into the flesh that sat above your slick, aching cunt and inhaling. You clenched around nothing, your clit twitching at the sound of Aemond’s unabashed groan. 

He grasped at your hips and your legs, his fingers burying into your flesh and tugging as if there would never be enough of you in his hands. It would have driven you into a similarly desperate state had things been different. 

The prince between your thighs was a sight to behold. Aemond’s skin was flushed pink, his eyepatch slightly out of place and his hair tousled from the way your legs clenched and unclenched against his head. He was almost drooling, mumbling about how good you smelled and how perfect and pretty your cunt was for him. His cock had never been so hard, constricted by the stiff leather of his training attires. 

Aemond enjoyed being a tease but there was only so much he could handle himself. While he wanted you to crave for him the way he was craving you so unbearably, Aemond needed to taste you. He needed to make you feel the blinding pleasure he should have been giving you at every chance he had since the night you were married. He needed to show you the ways of unbridled human desire and to show you all the ways your body could come undone and fall apart only to feel completely whole and fulfilled. 

There was no changing the past but Aemond would make up for how completely inattentive he had been. He would show you all the more fervently. When Aemond placed an open mouthed kiss just above your slit, letting a string of his spit glide off of his tongue onto your sensitive pussy, you shuddered.

All at once your mind was once again taken over by unsavoury thoughts. It had your eyes welling with tears, a familiar lump lodging in your throat, threatening to come out in a devastated sob. There was a ringing in your ears and you were back at Aemond’s door, peeking in only to see him giving that woman the same touch he was giving you right now. He had seemed so enthralled by her and the way she must have tasted. It was as if he’d been there before, indulging in her with so much passion it rivalled how eagerly touched you in this moment. 

Did her smell fill his veins with fire as yours was? Did her scent alone make his cock as painfully hard as yours did? Did her cunt drip for him the way yours did? Was the hunger in his eye shining for her too?

It was terrifying to consider. 

Aemond would spend hours here, he had decided. His duties for the day could be damned to the hells for all he cared. There was a rumbling in his chest for what he saw in front of him, inviting him to indulge and filling his mind with senseless ardour. Aemond let himself enjoy just the scent of you, his eye fluttering shut and his nose gently resting above your folds as he breathed you in, caressing your thighs softly with his hands. As if he were starved for years, Aemond salivated and with no patience left within him, he brought his lips downwards to meet the precious cunt he had been dreaming of. 

With a whimper that you couldn’t hold back, you jerked away from him. Aemond pulled away in surprise, his gaze full of confusion and lust and insecurity. “Wait, my love—“

You had slipped free of his grasp, a strangled cry escaping no matter how hard you tried to keep it in. There was one tear that slipped free, followed by countless more and you couldn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t bear to see that he was hurt before scrambling away from him. 

She was stuck in your mind. The memory of Aemond’s little trysts with her replaying behind your eyes no matter how hard you tried to shut it out. It was clear that there was nothing you could do to get ahold of yourself because everytime you looked at him, so enthralled in you and your sex, she was there. 

Laughing at you in the back of your mind, as if she had taken residence in a permanent place in your head, enjoying the state of despair and madness she and Aemond had led you to. 

But she couldn’t be in your head. Not really. Not in the way it felt she was. 

You barely glanced back at Aemond through your tears, struggling to even your breathing and calm the rapid beating of your heart. He hadn’t moved much; just simply stayed there frowning at the space that you had once occupied on the chair. 

There was nothing he could do to change things. Aemond knew that as well as you did. But there was a pain in your heart at the way he looked so defeated, so guilty that it almost seemed like he would melt into a puddle of remorse. A far stretch from the usual stoic warrior that you had known him as.

“My prince, I–” you swallowed, your voice catching when he looked up at you with a wide eye and furrowed eyebrows. For a moment you remembered that he had no right - but he was trying, was he not? “I cannot continue with this knowing that you had touched her like this. It angers me and it upsets me and it pains me to think of it but ‘tis beyond my control.”

He stayed silent, observing the way you hid yourself from him and struggled to meet his gaze. There was a sullen look to you, one you had not entered with and it stuck needles in his flesh to think that he had been the cause of it. Aemond’s entire body felt hot and he was itching to tear off his leathers. He wished the gods would strike him down as he was for hurting you so.

You had turned away, disappearing from his quarters swiftly. You would never forget the image of how you had left him there–it was both satisfying and devastating. 

Aemond, still on his knees for the ghost of you, his expression tortured and his shoulders tensed. It was a pathetic sight, should anyone stumble upon it, but you considered it beautiful. Beautiful in a lethal, catastrophic manner. Not unlike himself; a weaponised source of destruction who had a tendency to bring torment upon those he loved. 

The rest of your day had been spent alone in your chambers. You hadn’t cried so much over any of it until now. The tears and sobs that you had held inside of yourself for weeks had forced themselves out, along with the emotions you had pushed down until you could no longer. 

Aemond had a certain control while you were sitting in that seat, skirts bunched to your stomach and quivering for him to have his way. Regardless, the power was still yours and you knew that it was Aemond who was wrapped tightly around your finger at that moment. He would have listened to anything you had said–done anything you had told him to do. 

Perhaps you had become too stubborn in your anger to have let yourself feel anything else. A retributive anger; one that sprouted from the lack of love that existed in your marriage and reached a climax at Aemond’s brazen adultery. And it only grew stronger in whatever back and forth Aemond had encouraged by dangling his whore in front of your face. 

Whatever it was, you were feeling so much more now than you had before. 

Or perhaps it was because you could see that Aemond was remorseful. He would never yet admit it but you knew from the way he had behaved since you had visited him in his bed. It was no act of redemption and definitely no apology but it was impossible to ignore the change in him. You had never seen Aemond the way you had seen him this morning. 

Vulnerable, gentle, tormented. 

A knock on your door had you sniffling and wiping away any tear stains that may have lingered on your cheeks. You had stopped crying for some time but the need to wallow and lament had stayed. When you called out to ask, the guard at your door notified you of the Dowager Queen’s presence. 

Oh, seven hells. 

There was really no chance you could refuse her so you merely let her in and called a servant to bring some refreshments. Queen Alicent sat herself down but remained tense, carefully watching you as you took a place beside her. 

“Have you been crying?” Her concern was comforting. “I believe I know why.”

You straightened, not meeting the eye of the woman who reached a tender hand to your knee. Hiding behind a forced smile, you let out a breathy laugh. “I am certain the entirety of the Red Keep knows, Your Grace.”

“It has been known for some time,” Alicent was gentle, her cautionary gaze telling you that she was apprehensive about bringing her son’s misadventures up. You held your breath. “Since the first time he had summoned that Alys woman-”

“Alys? Is that her name?”

“You do not know?” There was a tense silence. Alicent couldn’t meet your gaze, pity swimming across her features. Aemond was her son and there were many things that she had let her sons get away with but her heart pained at the broken quiver in your voice. 

Alicent had noticed the change in Aemond since the night that you had found him with Alys. The second time. He had never paid much attention to you aside from what appearances required yet Alicent knew her son far more than he would be willing to accept. She had known that there was something in his heart for you, no matter how small and no matter how it dwindled until set alight. 

Aemond had done the wrong thing. She had no doubts about that. Alicent would have words with him once she figured out what to say to him. But he was her son and there were certain misdoings that she knew she had to defend them through. To protect his marriage, his image and his happiness. The Queen Dowager cleared her throat and reached for your hand, eyebrows furrowing at the way you stared down at your lap, the anguish you felt in your heart written clearly across your face. 

“I understand that you are hurting, my dear. Although my husband remained faithful to me until his death and I cannot quite imagine the pain in your heart–I see how you have love for my son, even if you nor him have known it, I do understand,” Alicent took a breath, closing her eyes. “This is the way of men. And princes–”

“Please, Your Grace, I mean this with utmost respect for you but I do not wish to hear your excuses,” you whispered. There was a prickly, breathless worry that had settled in your gut. What did you not know? Was this Alys someone who mattered? “But I would like to know what you are withholding from me about this woman. I believe I deserve that at the very least.”

Alicent stared at you for a moment, examining you. She could drive her son further into the ground with what she was about to say. “Aemond had a paramour–at least it was rumoured, he never spoke of such things with me. Alys Rivers, a wetnurse and servant woman from Harrenhal.”

“A paramour?”

“It was before you were married,” Alicent was quick to clarify. “I had assumed that Aemond wanted nothing more to do with her when she left–at his order, I believe. Some say she was a witch. Perhaps she enchanted him.” 

You couldn’t look at her. She was more than just a whore? Had he lied to you right from the beginning? Bile rose up in your throat. There was a thrum in your ears, the sound of your own heartbeat and you feared that you would be sick from the drop in your gut. 

“Did he love her? Could he still?”

Alicent sucked in a breath. “I do not know, my child.”

All you could do was nod pathetically. Alicent was a woman of great strength and dedication; you had once wished to be much like her one day. But as you sat beside her now, you wished she had been a liar and a cheat and a meddling gossip. That you could find a way to fault her words but you could tell it caused her great difficulty to speak of Aemond’s actions honestly. 

Ever poised and elegant, Alicent only leaned forward to you, her posture straight as a needle and her touch soft as linen. “I did not mean to upset you further. I only meant to speak with you about returning to Courtly activities, with the other Ladies and Helaena has been asking for you. And the Ladies speak–”

“They speak terribly of me,” you scoffed, allowing a humourless laugh. “I understand, Your Grace. I will return to spending my days in company other than my own.”

Alicent hated to pry but she felt that she must, now that she had dealt her cards against Aemond’s fate. “Perhaps you should speak with Aemond. He cares for you deeply. It would be a shame for your union to fall apart over such misunderstandings.”

If not for formality, you would have rolled your eyes. Again, you simply nodded, your mind reeling back to the woman that Alicent had given a name to. You would ask Aemond about her. It would be the less damning option rather than turning to Aegon once more but the idea of speaking to Aemond about a woman he may once have loved still made you want to crawl underneath the sheets of your bed and disappear. 

You thought of the woman who you had seen through the crack in the door and wished you had taken extra care in looking at her. There was little you could recall other than the darkness and length of her hair, the paleness of her skin and the perfection in her curves as she pleasured Aemond and as he did the same for her. 

As if she was familiar with all the things that made him weak. All the things that made Aemond weak. How she had touched him like she was an expert in his body. And you thought of Aemond, bare and comfortable with her. Aemond with his sapphire glimmering under the lamplight instead of an eye, a rawness and trust that you had never seen of him until that night. 

He trusted her.

Alys Rivers. 

.....................................................

Tagging: @padfooteyes @thedyingwriter @mamawiggers1980 @queenofshinigamis @ewanmitchellfanatic @nurtargaryen

[pandapetals]

New Dress

logan howlett x afab!reader - fluff, inspired by clairo's song juna, new dress, suggestive, cute

Your put on a new dress and Logan loves it.

read on Ao3

“C’mere.” Logan’s voice was low, a playful command threaded through the syllables, as he lounged against the doorframe, arms crossed. His eyes flickered over you, taking in the dress with a heat that made it hard to ignore him.

But you did.

You shook your head, biting your lip as you twisted in front of the mirror, fingers smoothing the fabric down your sides, trying to catch every angle. “Wait,” you murmured, barely glancing his way. “I just need to see if it—”

Logan pushed off the doorframe with an easy stride, his boots barely making a sound against the floor. In a few steps, he was behind you, his large frame almost swallowing your reflection. He didn’t touch you—yet. He just stood there, the weight of his presence filling the room.

“It looks good,” he said, his voice softer now, a quiet certainty in the way the words fell between you.

You let out a small huff, rolling your eyes but still turning slightly, trying to get a better view of your back in the mirror. “You say that about everything , Logan.”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Because you look good in everything.” His eyes met yours in the reflection, the intensity of his gaze sending a flicker of warmth down your spine.

You hesitated, your hands dropping to your sides. “Be serious,” you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice betraying the casual banter. “What if it doesn’t—”

Logan’s hands finally moved, his fingers brushing your waist lightly, almost testing the waters. You stiffened at first, but then his grip firmed, pulling you gently back against him. His body was warm and solid, the contrast between his steady confidence and your anxious self-assessment making your heart race.

“I am being serious,” he murmured near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. His hands slid to your hips, guiding you so you stood still, forcing you to stop twisting and turning. “Look at yourself.”

“I am—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice now a little more firm. “Not like that.”

He shifted slightly, lowering his head so his lips hovered just above your ear, his breath sending a shiver through you. “You always do this. You look at yourself like you’re trying to find something wrong.”

You swallowed, your pulse quickening as his words sank in. In the mirror, his eyes stayed on yours, unflinching, steady.

“But there’s nothing wrong,” he continued, his fingers tracing small, soothing circles on your hips. “Not with this dress. Not with you.”

For a second, you couldn’t look at him. Your gaze dropped, focusing on the way his fingers moved against the fabric, the way his chest felt pressed against your back. It was grounding, the way he held you as if he could sense the flutter of doubt still lingering beneath your skin.

“You don’t have to hide anything from me,” Logan said quietly, his voice softer now, the teasing long gone. “You know that, right?”

You nodded, the words sticking in your throat. His sincerity hit harder than you’d expected like it peeled back layers you hadn’t realized you were wearing along with the dress.

“Good.” His lips brushed the top of your head, a brief, gentle touch that left warmth in its wake. “Now let me see this dress properly.”

He shifted you slightly, making you face the mirror again. But this time, his hands didn’t leave you. He stayed close, his fingers at your waist, his eyes still on your reflection.

You looked at yourself again, but this time through his gaze—at the way the dress hugged your body, the fabric flowing over your curves as if it belonged there. And in the mirror, you saw more than just yourself. You saw the way his expression softened when he looked at you, the quiet admiration in his eyes, the way his lips parted slightly as if even now, he was holding back something deeper.

“It’s not just the dress, you know,” he said after a beat, his voice thick with meaning. “It’s you. You make it look good.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The room seemed smaller, quieter, as if the air between you had shifted, the playfulness melting into something heavier, more unspoken.

You exhaled the tension that had been knotting in your chest slowly unraveling under his touch. “You really think so?” you asked, still tentative, but there was a warmth creeping into your voice that hadn’t been there before.

Logan’s smirk returned, this time slower, more deliberate. “I know so.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder, his lips warm and soft against your skin. “Now, c’mere for real,” he murmured against your skin, his hands sliding around your waist to pull you fully into him, his grip more sure, more insistent.

This time, you didn’t resist.

[lexirosewrites]

Hi Lexi!

I kind of read about your break and the fear of your hyper fixation going away. Just wanted to say that I've been through the same thing 2 months ago. I couldn't write anything at all for 6 months. I had the inspiration but not the motivation. I had stopped reading fanfictions as well even from friends. I feared that the one thing that helped me through a hard time was leaving me, which was my hyperfixation that lead me to write. I didn't want to lose it, but I felt like it was. I was ready to make a post about me just simply quitting writing because my fingers didn't cooperate.

It wasn't. I just needed a break. A long one. One day I just rewatched stranger things, and I started reading old fics, ones that I read that made me get into writing for the Fandom. I did things I did back in May 2022. Even lighting candles of the scent I used back then. Music as well.

After that, one day I sat down, and the words came through by themselves. It's not in the magnitude they were before. That I know. I'm not the same person from 2 years ago, but just because you cannot write now, doesn't mean you won't ever be able to.

It will get better, you just need to find that love again, however you find it necessary to do so 💓 I just simply went back in time.

You don't have to answer this, I just wanted you to know that I understand your fear, but just because it's not as intense, it means that is gone. 💕

You'll find your way back! Just give yourself time, all that you need! Be it weeks, months or a year, just don't beat yourself up for it. You are human after all 💖

i love to hear this! it’s so hard to pin point why i started writing in the first place, but i think i had a lot of feelings to process back then… and now that i’ve said them, my brain is empty? who knows!

i will say my job has been making me especially miserable lately, but i’m officially putting in my two week resignation notice tomorrow! i’ve decided to quit nursing entirely and i got a job teaching math and science for middle schoolers, which is so exciting! it is a huge change for me, but i think it will be a good thing and hopefully put me in a better mind space to enjoy hobbies again💛

[lyrenminth]

The way you are

"Mmmm I like what I see" Justin raspy voice says from the bedroom's door. You straighten up, covering your breasts. It's his voice and the way he looks at you that makes you flush. You don't feel hot anymore, after three children your body changed a lot. A flat belly it's impossible at this point, and there are stretch marks in your belly, between your thighs, ass and boobs. And Justin is still hot, older, wiser. Lucky you.

You turned you back to him to put a bra on. "You scare me" you reply. You feel his presence behind you, and his big hands touching your breasts and your belly, hugging you, bringing you closer to him. He kisses the top of your head, then your neck, you feel the stubble grazing your tender skin, you squirm away. "Are you not tired?" after practice he still makes time to fulfill his dad duties, playing with the children or helping them with their homework.

"No, not so much" he replies, smiling against your ear. "God, you are so soft" you try your best to keep him close to you, but sometimes the self-sabotage is strong and you think he says those things out of pity. You're his wife, the mother of his children and yet, you don't feel good enough.

"My hair is wet" you say struggling to lock your bra, Justin takes the bra off, his hands covering your breasts instead. "I like it better like this" he says, playing with your boobs, pinching the nipples. You giggle, and turn around to face him. "The kids are already in bed?" you ask. "Yes, I left everything prepared for tomorrow. You don't need to worry" you stand on your tip toes to give him a grateful kiss. He leans on, and what it was supposed to be a chastise kiss turns into something more when he slips his tongue inside your mouth. "Justin.." you whisper, flustered. His intensity always surprises you, because usually he's in control about most things.

"Are you tired?" he asks against your lips. Meaning: do you want to fuck?

"No, but I don't feel sexy" you laugh. You can't hide the sadness in your voice. Justin stops to look at you, frowning. "I noticed you have been rejecting me more lately, it's because of that?" he wonders, serious. You gulp, feeling guilty. "Mmmm, yes. Some days"

"You're the most beautiful woman in my eyes" he lowers himself to be at the same eye-level as you. His words are honest and raw. He touches your belly full of stretch marks. "You made me a father, you give me a family, a purpose, everything I wanted it. You're my best friend and as the co-president of the Best Friends Committee, I forbidden self-hate" he jokes, remembering the old joke you made when you became friends back then. "And, you turn me on so much doing anything, baby" he says a little ashamed. "When you bend over the dishwasher, hard on. Packing lunches for our kids, hard on. Helping Mr. Reynolds with his poodle, hard on"

"Okay, I get it" you say, feeling emotional over his confession. "But I-I wish I could change some things"

"Like what?"

"My belly for instance" he looks pensive for a few moments before saying "I love you, I love you before and after all we went through, but I want you to feel happy. I recall you mentioned surgery to "fix you" and...well, if it's truly what you want, I would support you" he declares, getting closer once again. "But don't push me away, don't hide from me please. I love you as you are"

You press your lips together trying not to cry. "I love you" you hug him, burning your chest on his pecs, smelling his perfume. You don't realize that you're naked, but doesn't matter because Justin wants you anyway. You felt something poking at your belly.

"Let me show you that I don't care" he says softly against your ear. "Let me show you how much I adore you"

Your heart beats fast against your chest, feeling the butterflies again. After a decade together, Justin still makes you giggle like a highschool girl. Your hands take some liberties and run across his body, feeling the muscles underneath the blue shirt that makes his eyes sparkle more.

And now those eyes a eating you slowly. Lusty Justin is a sight to behold.

You lick your lips. The ache in between your legs growing each moment.

"Yes, show me please"

[mandumandy]

Achilles - H.Yunjin

Sypnosis: Throughout their whole lives, Yunjin has adored her Patroclus.

Tags: fluff, mentions of mythology, mentions of Song Of Achilles, just Yn being stupid and Yunjin being a simp

Pairing: Nonidol!Yunjin x Nonidol!Reader:

Authors Note: I tried to write like madeline miller (it didnt work)

➽────────────────────────────❥

Yn always loved dawn.

Its steady crimson painting of the horizon brings a certain warmth to yn, one that only its vanquishing of darkness can bring, and its pastel aftermath deemed it as the sole guardian of her happiness.

Until Yunjin.

Yn was 10 when she first met yunjin. Stiff and uncomfortable, she remembered stuffing herself in the corner of the classrom nose-deep in a book. Her eyes squinted with concentration, and a small pout donned her face as she struggled to read the words under the flourescent lighting.

She had no friends, not that she needed them. The worlds she read about were enough—worlds where heroes loved and fought, where people were grander, braver than anything in reality.

As usual, The Song Of Achilles was clutched tightly in her hand.

Even though the book was not meant for her age, due to a innaprorpiate scene (Yn always skips her part so that in her mothers words, “She could keep her innocence”), but she loved it nonetheless. The descriptions of Achilles’ brillliant skill and Patroclus’ steady devotion blew her away with amazement. As she flips page to page, her intense glare starts to lessen, and she almost feels better.

As if.

Until a voice, bright and sudden, shattered her peace.

“Is that The Song Of Achilles?”

There, between the wide array of books, stood a girl.

Her hair a deep muted brown that was identical to the oak of the library Yn loved so much. Her doed eyes, though also brown, held a different form of warmth, one that drew her in at an instant. Her cheeks were round and slightly chubby, having a sense of childishness to them that was almost cute.

It was strange to see this girl among the books she loved so much, how she seemingly erased them from sight with Yn’s sight with a single question.

Yn bit her lip, the familiar sting grounding her in the present. Yet, beneath the sharpness, there was a restlessness—a ripple in her otherwise steady world, a world that Yunjin, with her radiant curiosity, had already begun to disturb.

“Yn bit down on her lip, feeling the brief sting pull her back into the present, grounding her in her discomfort. 'Yes…' The word lingered in the air, fragile, before she could catch it. 'It’s my favorite book—one of them, at least.' The girl’s gaze held fast, each word Yn spoke sinking deep into her like roots seeking water.

Yn felt, for the first time in a long while, the weight of someone listening, truly listening. It was almost enough to make her want to say more, to let the words spill, but her pride stopped her.

She would not yield.

Really?' There was a flicker in Yunjin’s eyes, something like the dawn she loved so much. Soft and patient, waiting.

It was almost god-like.

It unnerved Yn how open her expression was, unguarded and full of hope.

That openness felt like an invitation, and in it, Yn sensed the edge of vulnerability that made her…scared.

'…yes.' The word slipped out like a confession. As if summoned, Yunjin stepped closer, her presence warm like the hazy setting of the horizon as it creeped across the room.

Yn watched, helpless, as the girl settled beside her, limbs unfolding with the lazy grace of a mountain lion at rest. There was something disarming about Yunjin—something that softened the edges of Yn’s usual defenses, making the tightness in her shoulders ebb away. What spell did this girl put on her?

“Who’s your favourite in the book?” The words seemed to come naturally to Yn this time, tumbling out before she could stop them. She bit her bottom lip, almost also in intervening from any more questions from spilling as the girl pursed her lip in thought.

“I like….Achilles.” A small smile appeared on the girls face, one seemingly brimming with satisfation at her answer.

“Achilles?”

“Oh.”

Achilles, the brilliant, the fast, the genius. Yn noted how the girl’s vibrant presence seemed to echo the character's brilliance. In that moment, she couldn’t help but see something of him in the way Yunjin smiled, unshakable and bright, like the sun.”

Yn tilted her head slightly, her gaze narrowing as the girl’s smile broadened. The soft light from the dim lamps barely reached them, yet Yunjin seemed to carry her own radiance, something that, despite her hesitance, drew Yn in.

“My name is Yunjin! Im new here.” the girl announced, her eyes crinkling with a warmth that Yn couldn’t even pretend to have.

So this was the new girl everyone was talking about, the one that was “bound to become the new popular kid”.

“That’s so pretty!”

So why was she here?

“What’s yours?” Yunjin once again questioned, blinking as she watched the girl flinch.

“….Yn.”

Yn avoided her gaze as she bit her lip nervously.

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

Yn peered at Yunjin, searching for any hint of mockery, but found none. Instead, Yunjin’s grin only widened.

Why was this girl so simple?

“We should be friends.” ”Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Huh.

As she looked back at her pages, a familiar warmth settled in her chest.

For the first time in a long while, the dawn seemed a little brighter.

Yn felt a smile creep up her lips.

In the summer they turned 16 Yn’s classmates prediction proved correct. It was as though the world had been waiting to notice her, and when it finally did, her popularity skyrocketed.

But Yunjin had help.

With Yunjin’s constant sunshine and laughter, Yn was now labelled as her silent but steady companion. Known for her devoted nature, Yn’s cat-eyed stares kept their followers at bay, always remaining at least 3 meters away from them. (Im canadian, sue me)

But now matter how intimidating she tried to seem, it seemed some fans would always slip through.

Yn leaned foward on board surrounding the volleyball court, watching as Yunjin got surrounded by students.

It was a breaktime before the second set, and she watched as Yunjin grinned at her disciples, toothy and goofily shaking the hands reached out to touch her, as if she was a god.

Yn rolled her eyes, before leaning into the boards even more to get her attention.

Yn raised a hand in a wave, and, without hesitation, Yunjin ran forward, tearing through the crowd like a hungry animal. She wrapped Yn in an embrace that was as fierce as it was sudden, her arms tight, almost crushing, around her. The way she gave so much of herself without holding back was slightly overwhelming, but it felt nice.

It felt like Yunjin.

In the press of Yunjin’s body against hers, in the unchecked joy that radiated from her, Yn felt a breath of something warm in her chest.

“Hi.” She heard the the taller girl whisper, pressing her face into Yn’s neck as she pulled her impossibly closer.

“You’re choking me.” Yn grumbled, her voice muffled.

“Oopsies.” Unwinding herself, Yunjin still kept her arms around Yn’s waist as she observed her outfit.

Yn remembered the day Yunjin had gotten into their team. Her excited banging on her door and she engulfed her with giggles. Yn remembers being thrown a black jersey with a bright number 10, and Yunjin’s anticipated blinks.

“Please wear it to our games.” She remembered Yunjin pleading, avoiding her gaze as she intertwiend their fingers together in desperation.

So, she wore it to the game this afternoon.

“You’re staring.”

“Oh.”

Yunjin’s gaze was unwavering, her eyes tracing the contours of Yn’s jersey with a soft smile. “You look…” She hesitated, then added, “Good.”

Yn snorted lightly. “Litearlly everyone’s wearing the same exact jersey, ‘ace’.” She teased slightly, using the nickname the crowd seemed to love.

“Still, yours is…” She didnt need to finish that sentence. They both knew.

“Whatever.” Yn peeked out a smile, grabbing Yunjin’s attention in a flash.

Suddenly, the coach blew their whistle noisily, causing the two to jump slightly.

Yn snickred as Yunjin muttered slightly, seemingly frustrated at their moment being interrupted.

“You smiled too!” Yunjin groaned as she slumped over, pouting.

“I’m still going to watch.” Yn pushed the girl gently, rolling her eyes in amusement.

“Go on, win for me ‘ace’.” Yn watched as the girl blinked, processing her sentence, before flushing a dark red and nodding furiously.

“Bet.”

As the girl jumped over the board and made her way to the net, a new determination in her, Yn sighed slightly as she leaned back.

She watched as Yunjin readied herself, the concentration in her eyes was something not even Yn could created. Yn never admitted it, but something about this side of Yunjin made her smile.

Its silence, its waiting.

She watched as the volleyball smashed through, as the setter drew herself to prepare.

Yunjin took back steps percisely, something that always amazed her. Its accuracy, its power.

Yn knew it all too well.

Yunjin suddenly stumbled, waking Yn from her trance. The opponents paused, confusion obvious in their expression, but they should have known better.

Yn should have known better.

Just then, a jump, and a tap.

Yunjin feinted the ball, and the crowd was silent as the ball dropped.

There was no stumble, no clumsyness in her actions.

Yunjin, just like Achilles always did, used the ever so trickable human error against the other team.

Yn blinked. Even from within their childhood to now, Yn has never seen Yunjin trip. The way she walked, ran, did anything, was always so smooth, it was like gliding.

It was almost unreal.

The crowd cheered.

As they locked eyes, Yunjin pointed at her with a beam.

“This is for you.” Yunjin mouthed, drawing her lips up to a childish grin.

As always, there was no taunting in her words. In her eyes, full of affection and victory, help something behind its layers of joy.

Yn bit her lip, torn between Yunjin’s contagious delight and her confusion.

The question lingered in her mind, one that stayed until night:

Why did Yunjin like her so much?

Strayed romances and beloved heartbreaks seemed to wage like war, cupids arrows flying wildly and Yn and Yuniin stayed in their sanctuary.

Yn closed her eyes, enjoying the hushed raindrops that surrounded Yunjin’s room. As always, her lifetime companion laid beside her, eyes concentrated on the blurry tv screen.

As part of their routine, Yunjin was watching mean girls on the shitty television, one they had bought at a garage sale with their combined budget.

Yn rolled her eyes as Yunjin giggled at Regina George’s song, kicking her feet as if in love. “At this point i should just break this television.” Yn scoffed, squinting her eyes at Yunjin’s romantic admiration.

“You wouldnt understand my love for her.” Yunjin pouted, widening her mouth at love as she shaped a heart with her fingers. Yn gagged, pushing the girl away with a sneer as Yunjin laughed.

Suddenly, a call came from outside. “Yunjin!”

Yunjin groaned slightly, before throwing the blanket off herself with a huff.

“I’ll be back.” She mumbles, before shutting the door behind her.

As Yunjin was off, Yn glanced around her room. Despite being more in Yunjin’s room than her own, there was always a feeling the lighting and plants gave off that seemed to relax Yn.

Due to Yunjins bubbly and loud personality, Yn always thought that her room would be extremely messy and out-of-place.

However, looking at the room’s decoration, it felt nothing like that.

Yes, the room was slightly tumbled around, with its off centre paintings covering the walls, but it felt sharp, calm, real.

It felt like Yunjin.

Slipping out of bed, she made way to the small bookshelf in Yunjin’s corner, one full of different books that both she and Yn collected throughout the summers. Tracing her fingers across the books spines, she stopped at a specific title. The Song Of Achilles. Pulling the book out gently, Yn observed how the book seemed weared down. Between the yellowing pages were different labels and highlights, but the condition of the paper seemed to be fully taken care of, as if every page was traced with love.

Yunjin always seemed to do that.

As she flipped through the pages, she paused slightly, tilting her head slightly as a bright yellow flashed by. Stopping at the page, she squinted. On the page, underneath a pink highlight of the word love, stuck a bright yellow note, vandalized by Yunjin’s messy handwriting. On it, it read:

“Yn makes me feel this…i hope i can make her feel it too”

A breathe,

A blink.

In the comfort of Yunjins room, with it’s fairy lights and over-the-place positioning, her heart squeezed. It was a slight feeling, but one, despite its small clench, that changed Yn.

In her smiles and eye crinkles, in her goofy humor, in her doe-eyed observation, Yn found something.

In Yunjin, Yn found love.

A small grin made its way to Yunjin’s face as she flipped her page. The small tunes of a song played behind them, and, with that, hushed rain as well.

As time flew by, Yunjin, being the puppy she is, followed Yn to university. She remembered her eye-crinkling grin as she pushed open Yn’s door (as usual) to celebrate getting in, only to get the alchohol in her hand to get thrown out Yn’s window.

Now, the duo made an effort to re-enter their usual routine. (Wihtout the shitty television this time)

Yn sighed slightly, lying on her bed as she glanced around her room.

Despite being at the university for 2 years already, the dorm was fairly clean. Even with Yunjin’s begging, Yn refused to share a dorm with her. Mainly based on how overbearing she constantly was, but also because she probably couldnt handle living with a girl she was in love with.

However, as always, Yunjin rammed down her door with popcorn and books, demanding to hang out.

That was how it came to now, how, even though she was supposed to be taking a nap, Yn now found herself entangled in Yunjin’s attention-seeking whines.

“Yn?” Yunjin’s voice called, snapping her back to the present.

“Hm?” Yn hummed, putting her arm over her eyes to cover the light (yunjin) hovering over her.

“What do you think would be the perfect confession?”

Yn’s breathe hitched.

Refusing to let herself overthink, Yn pursed her lip in thought.

“Mm…a bouquet of flowers and and a hi.” Yn smiled, Yunjin’s graceful charm bugging the back of her mind.

“Really?”

Then, without warning, Yunjin rose quickly to her feet, her movements a blur of speed. Before Yn could fully register what was happening, Yunjin was halfway to the door, her fiery spirit always one step ahead.

“Wait!” Just before Yunjin rushed through the door, Yn managed to grab the skin of her sweater, furrowing her brows in annoyance.

“Its pouring outside, where are you going to go in this weather?” She panted.

��Emergency.” Yunjin said, her grin lopsided and full of mischief, the kind of smile that made Yn’s heart breathe everytime.

Then, before she could respond, Yn felt the door click.

“Where did Yunjin go?” Ryujin, her dormmate called from the kitchen.

“Only god knows.” Yn grumbled under her breath, slumping back to her bedroom to clean up the mess Yunjin made in her hurry.

A few hours later, Yn was taking care of her billion plants. As usual, they were all from Yunjin, who decided to ruin Yn’s peace with another horrific task that took hours. But, when she saw her raw joy and brilliant smile, she couldnt refuse.

Walking by all the plants, she fiddled with their leaves and stems, gently handling the blooming flowers as she fed them water.

Just as she was watering the last one, one Yunjin demanded to call Patro (for patroclus) near the entrance, the door swung open, revealling a soggy Yunjin. Yn gasped as she took her in, her usual fiery red hair now in wet strands that were damp and low. In her clenched fist, a bouquet of flowers sprung open, seemingly dry compared to the person.

Yn looked in Yunjin’s eyes, slight hesitance showing through despite the amount of hope she conveyed.

Her hair, her eyes her smile, all things that belonged to Yunijn and Yunjin only.

“Hi.” Yunjin breathed.

But Yunjin’s heart?

Yunjin’s heart was hers.

Her Achilles.

Her dawn.

Yn always loved dawn.

[lunarharp]

wip thing...

of my bg3 avatar hellebore. i also did some casual nude studies of my 3 characters which i'll put under a cut... rather unlike me after all. (so WARNING for abrupt non-sexual full Artistic nudity lol...,,,,) (< won't be making a habit of this)

they mean the world to me

[gingerbreadmonsters]

oh this is going to be......... a problem actually

[pinkseas]

girl who thinks about xiaolumi too much literally while in the middle of writing abt them and then starts crying a little bit

[youssefguedira]

scrolling through the le otto montagne tag is like what i imagine being poisoned in a video game feels like. i'm just here like -1 -1 -1 -1 until i finally run out of health (get too upset and have to leave the tag)

[nygleskas]

reads this over and over and over and o

[kdramacrybaby]

I haven’t really ranted about Alchemy of Souls yet, and though I don’t have that much to say, I do have some thoughts I might as well air out ⬇️

[kavehater]

thoughts utc :

It’s a little weird to me that some people want others who are the complete opposite to them because to me at least since as long as I can remember the things I wanted from others I would emulate it within myself, I would meticulously work to be the best version that in my eyes a human can be. Like if I was attracted to intelligence and I am, then I would work incredibly hard to be intelligent. If I was attracted to emotional maturity and sensitivity then I would literally ensure I am exactly those things, to the best of my ability of course. And while I am not perfect and I do hate fundamental things about myself, which were forced upon me to hate, not that I hate those qualities that I tried to perfect into myself, the essence of what I’m trying to emulate remains.

It’s interested me that people wish for someone their exact opposite, if that’s the case, change is very much free, why not be what you wish for a partner or friend to be like ? It’s confusing because the issue I’ve had for so long is that why does nobody notice the little things I do the ones I meticulously pedantically plan to do for a very explicit precise reason. It’s annoying. It’s so infuriating in fact. Sometimes I wish I could just grab the person and sit them down and just explain exactly why every single action I do is purposeful and intended. Why every single word and I do not even joke here or over exaggerate. Every single word I say has a meaning even silly ones like the or and or whatnot. They are filtered and selected with care because sometimes even tho the other might not recognise that a simple word like that could change the tone a little I do use the most preferable one possible. But nobody notices that. It’s annoying. Not because I care too much but because I feel unappreciated. Truthfully I don’t think anyone realises how much I care how much I invest etc. ik lots of people say they’re a yearner they care they’re pedantic but I swear to god none of you are like this whatsoever. No one. And if I find someone like this you bet I’m gonna propose to them asap 😭🙏 it’s like being surrounded by people who haven’t gained consciousness. Like they’re living in their own stupid bubble. It’s so annoying ugh. And when ppl think I missed a cue no the fuck I did not. That too is purposeful. It’s to teach said person to stfu or rethink or it’s meant to be a moment of repercussion for their actions. I am very much for justice and fairness so if I feel someone is being an imbecile with me you bet I’ll discretely try to put them in their place all the while acting silly and like I dunno anything. Or laughing about things or acting confused. Because yall suck hard and are lowkey a little stupid. Scratch that not a little but a LOT.

That is why I absolutely go insane when someone tries to rebut me or refute any argument I put out. It’s like wtf did you just tell me. Like do you even know how much prep and logic and reason and meaning goes into what I say and do ? While you pea brain just spout things out of your ass ✋😭 literally stfu do NAWT speak to me with your stupidity rn I literally explode (in my head) all the while trying to keep composure and act very nice and caring etc. it’s so NDIWKSKSK cause why are ppl so stupid. Why are they insufferable and dumb. Literally why like I thought humans were meant to be smart but it’s like I’m talking to someone who came out half baked and deformed. Or they were dropped as a child. JDIWWKAKAOQK