#BREATHING EACH OTHER'S SCENTS BATHING ON EACH OTHER'S AURA!!!

[darabeatha]

ok but hear me out, it's yearning time;; new addition to my wishlist is for someone nuzzling their face against the crook of one of my muses's neck, while my muse gently holds them back.... the absolute invasion of space! the audacity! but no no your honor, it's breathing each other, being so close they can feel each other's chests rising and breathing out, it's that super closeness like 'you are my space' it's the content little smiles that would be shared, it's bodies glued against each other's and if you want to be silly, legs tangled with each other's, a straddling hug, a hug by sitting on one of the character's lap to be even closer because they mutually melt with each other in their own little space- thank you for coming to my ted talk

[comatosebunny09]

kismet [ teaser ] | sylus

— summary: “are you going to keep picking at my bed sheets until you’ve reduced them to mere threads?” sylus’ voice startles you, bringing you careening back to the present. the sheet slips from your fingers as you cower like a scolded child, bathed in the imposing aura he emits.  “you could say something. or we could just sit here listening to each other breathe for the rest of the night. take your pick.”

— cw: blood, injury, violence, minor character deaths, language, self-loathing, unrequited (requited) feelings, mdni

— now playing: i got u - austin farwell

Consciousness comes toddling in like newborn kittens. 

You anticipate the sound of birds chirping outside. Anticipate sunbeams kissing your eyelids and the crisp scent of your comforter. Instead, you’re ushered into wakefulness by insistent ticking. By a dull throbbing in your side and by something silken sliding down your bare stomach to pool around your hips. 

Uh-oh.

You jolt up. What a shitty idea that proves to be. White hot pain explodes in your side, anchoring you back down to the bed. Bed? Bed…when did you—

Your vision blurs and bends, adjusting in the low light. You make out discernible shapes and colors from your spot propped against a pillow. The aroma that greets you isn’t one associated with your home. But it’s familiar all the same. Inherently masculine with undernotes of bergamot, amber, and—

Ah, fuck.

Reality barrels in. You wince as you take in the sheets pooled around you. Their texture, their color. You’re surrounded by furniture that isn’t yours but is recognizable. And the ticking is familiar, too, coming from a clock nestled in the corner. 

This isn’t your bed. This isn’t your room. This is…this is…

The clearing of a throat interrupts your internal panicking. You shrink away from the source of the sound, but you soon learn to regret that. The ache from before returns, though not as severe. Still, it’s enough for you to grit your teeth with a hiss leaking through. 

“Sweetie,” warns a murky voice from your bedside—his bedside. You stiffen, the color draining from your face. “If you keep jostling about like that, you’ll reopen your wound.”

A peek in your periphery reveals what you fear—a wash of scarlet and white. 

You rigidly slide back down against his mattress, wishing it could swallow you whole. Wishing you could recede into your skin like a turtle. He’s barely said more than a sentence to you, yet you can sense his vexation as if he’s given you a whole PowerPoint presentation. 

You toy with some stitching in his sheets. Your heart thrums fiercely in your ears. The throbbing in your side can’t compare to that gnarling feeling in your gut. You don’t dare look at him. Don’t have to, irritation rolling off him in waves. He’s pissed if the set of his jaw in your periphery is any gauge. You would be, too, if you found yourself like that. 

You fucked up. And you don’t think any amount of groveling will fix this. 

—

It was a routine negotiation. 

Well, you had hoped it would be. 

You weren’t at all surprised when it went south; Niko was known for being a greedy bastard. Not only did he want the military-grade weapons you were selling in Sylus’s stead. But he also wanted to keep his pockets full. Figured he’d bump you off while absconding with the goods and money.

Naturally, Niko sicked his men on you. One by one, you took down hulking thugs, your instincts and Evol guiding you through the fray. It had been a minute since you got your hands dirty. You wanted to savor the moment, the purpling of your knuckles, and the thrill of a good fight. 

Caught up in the action, you hadn’t noticed one of Niko’s men charging you with a machete until it was too late. He sliced you good, breaking through skin before you could spin out of reach. You grit your teeth against the initial shock, but the adrenaline that spilled through you muted the pain. 

When the henchman drew back for another swing, you used his weight to your advantage, throwing him off-kilter. Maneuvering behind him to pull him into a chokehold, you used that same machete to tear through his carotid. He fell to the ground, his life spilling from him on the concrete. 

You took down the remainder of Niko’s men in a similar fashion, oblivious to how fucked you truly were. When the last of his henchmen hit the ground, you confronted the kingpin himself. Of course, he took off running in the wake of your ire. 

They always fucking ran. 

The bastard was surprisingly quick for an old man, leading you on a chase through the moonlit docks. All the action exacerbated your wound, its severity gradually announcing itself and slowing you down. You finally cornered Niko, dealing the killing blow. Left him propped against a safety bollard, split open and leaking red as a warning for anyone who dared to cross Sylus.

Reality set in as you hobbled back to your bike, the case of weapons and cash cumbersome in your hands. 

You were hurt. Bad. So much that you stumbled into a brick wall in an alleyway. It bit unforgivingly into your shoulder but was a cold, welcome reprieve against your feverish, sweat-slicked skin.

You clutched your side as a visceral pain tore through you. A glance down revealed your blood seeping through the gaps of your fingers, glistening condescendingly in the moonlight.

It was a jagged slice. Tore through skin and tissue, rubbed raw from your clothing. Untreated, it would fester and grow gangrenous, not to mention the blood loss. You didn’t trust yourself to make it to the hospital on your bike. Not when you were near tears, struggling to stay conscious. 

You turned a bitter laugh to the sky, though it was converted into a wheeze. This was what you deserved. What you got for being so complacent, driven to recklessness by your petty feelings. By your need to stay on top and prove your worthiness. 

Your breaths were shallow. Inhaling was laborious, amplifying the pain. You sank to your knees, fumbling your phone from your pocket. The screen was smeared with blood as you struggled to cue up a contact. Thankfully, the receiver clicked to life, a feminine voice lighting up the other end.

“Hey,” you breathed, your cell shakily held to your ear. “Need your help. Dropping a pin.”

You ignored the alarm in her voice at your cryptic words. Didn’t have time for questions, hanging up before marking your location and sharing it. 

Your phone clattered to the ground, the sound of it jarring amid distant cars moving about on the streets and dogs barking somewhere far off. You propped yourself up on the alleyway wall, sucking down as much air as you could. Tried to calm yourself, watching the clouds glaze over the moon overhead—anything to distract you. To nullify the pain.

The ache subsided the slightest bit. With some effort, you divested yourself of your blazer to pack it into your side. The texture gliding against your wound aggravated it. But you needed something temporary to staunch the bleeding until help arrived.

Exhaustion was pulling you under, darkened tendrils furling in your chest like smoke and clouding your eyes. You were about to give in to its inky embrace before headlights flooded your vision, chasing away the dreamlike smog. 

You looked up at the frantic clicking of shoes along the pavement. Chuckled something breathy at the fear sinking onto her face. You didn’t deserve her concern, but having someone fret over you felt nice.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” said Nadia, helping you stand with your arm slung over her shoulder.

Nadia was one of Lux’s bartenders. Could whip up a mean martini and was a faithful confidant. You sometimes called her when you were in a bind. As much of a fuck up you’d been lately, you trusted her never to go running her mouth to Sylus. 

She guided you to her car. You blinked away the bleariness, swallowing past the sand in your throat. 

“Not yet. Gotta…see the bossman first.”

The car door slammed behind you once Nadia eased you into the passenger seat. For a moment, you sat silently, forehead propped against the crisp window as you dripped blood on her tan seat. Shit. You’d clean it up. You promised. 

You watched Nadia round the car with your cases in tow before she slipped into the driver's side. The leather of the steering wheel squelched in her white-knuckled grip. She gave you a tight-lipped look. Wanted to argue, but there was no sense in trying to change your mind. You were stubborn to a fault.

Nodding, Nadia backed the car out of the alleyway and eased onto the street. She kept tabs on you throughout the drive, occasionally peering over to ensure you were still among the conscious. 

You promised you’d see the doc after you reported to Sylus. You just hoped to hold yourself together long enough to see him.

—

Lux’s iron-wrought gates panned into view.

As much as she burned to, Nadia vowed not to snitch, so long as you sought out a medic when you were done. You were thankful for that. She’d kept your injuries under wraps for so long. You didn’t think you could handle inconveniencing your boss with your stupid little wounds. He already had enough on his plate—enough people to occupy his mind. 

Your side still throbbed as Nadia snuck you in through the club’s back doors. She shepherded you into a dressing room, helping you disinfectant and wrap your injury before assisting you with your dress. It was a tight little number. Something to hold your bindings in place, dark enough to disguise any blood that managed to seep through. 

Reluctantly, Nadia left you to your own devices. You’d swept your hair into some semblance of neat in the mirror. Blotted sweat and grime from your face, patting your cheeks to bring back some color. 

You could do this. You’d suffered worse. Mustering up your last vestiges of strength, you stood, ignoring the sticky pull of the gauze against your laceration. You dragged yourself through Lux’s stilled halls, ending your journey at the heavy double doors leading to Sylus’ office. 

It was laborious, pushing them open. You’d sapped the last of energy doing so. Your vision doubled, a thatch of white dancing through the chaos. You barely made out the terror lining Sylus’ features. Barely heard the hurried click of his shoes over marbled floors and the fear hijacking his voice when you collapsed in the doorframe.  

You felt so very cold. But his hands were warm, squeezing your arms like that. He shook you lightly, the scarlet of his eyes glinting through your bleariness. His voice was muddled. He was saying something. Asking something. You couldn’t decipher what. You were tired. Just wanted to sleep. 

You felt pressure on your side. His hand. Heard him suck in a breath, your blood sticky on his palm. Dammit. You thought you’d done a decent job packing your wound. Whatever. You'd do better next time. 

The world fell away as he called your name. You couldn’t keep your eyes open. Tried to answer, but you were already gone, sinking below the depths as if weighed down by cinder blocks.

[gracie-eilish]

waves of pleasure🌊🫧

summary: billie and you are on a romantic getaway, spending the evening enjoying your private ocean view villa until things get a little spicy👀🌊

an: this song always makes me think of the beach.. something about it reminds me of the waves crashing🌊

warnings: smut, sub!reader, dom!billie, semi-public, i think that’s all, lmk if i missed something!

The moonlit sky over the tropical island bathed the poolside villa in a soft, romantic glow. The air was warm, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and the distant sound of crashing waves. It was the perfect setting for an evening of passion, and you and Billie had found yourselves drawn to each other like moths to a flame.

You had been enjoying a relaxing swim in the villa's private pool, your naked bodies glistening under the moonlight. Billie, exuded a confident and playful aura. She swam with graceful strokes, her lithe body moving effortlessly through the water, her breasts bobbing with each stroke. You, the epitome of a sweet angel with your soft waves and captivating eyes, followed closely, your laughter echoing across the water.

As you reached the edge of the pool, Billie's fingers intertwined with yours, pulling you closer. The water lapped at your bodies, accentuating your curves and leaving a trail of shimmering droplets on your skin. Billie's eyes sparkled with mischief as she whispered something in your ear, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Let's take this to the cabana," Billie suggested, her voice husky with desire. "I want to feel every inch of you under this beautiful moon."

Your heart raced at the thought. You had always been a little shy about public displays of affection, but with Billie, you felt a sense of freedom and excitement. The idea of making love outdoors, with the ocean as your backdrop, was incredibly arousing.

You climbed out of the pool, your wet bodies glistening in the moonlight. Billie wrapped a soft towel around your shoulders, her hands lingering on your bare skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Your breath quickened as you felt Billie's touch, your nipples hardening under the fabric.

The plush cabana, nestled beside the pool, beckoned you both with its soft cushions and billowing curtains. Billie led the way, her naked body on full display, unashamed and proud. You followed closely, your eyes locked on Billie's perfect round ass, the muscles flexing with each step.

Inside the cabana, the atmosphere was intimate and cozy. Soft cushions and pillows were scattered around, inviting you to lounge and indulge in your desires. Billie wasted no time, her hands already roaming over your body, exploring every curve and dip. She kissed her way down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses that made you squirm with anticipation.

"You're so beautiful," Billie murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. "I love how you blush when I touch you."

You giggled, a mix of pleasure and nervousness. "I can't help it. You make me feel so alive, Billie."

Billie's hands found their way to your breasts, cupping and squeezing gently. She knew exactly how to touch you, how to drive you wild with desire. You arched her back, moaning softly, offering yourself to Billie's skilled hands, your nipples hardening further under the attention.

"That's it, babydoll,” Billie purred. "Let me hear you, let me know how much you want this."

Your breath came in short gasps as Billie's fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching gently. "Oh, Billie... I want you... please..."

Billie's hand traveled lower, her fingers tracing the outline of your wet slit through the fabric of the towel. She could feel the heat radiating from your core, the evidence of your desire. With a swift motion, Billie ripped the towel away, exposing your naked body to the moonlight.

"God you’re breathtaking," Billie whispered, her eyes dark with passion. "I want to taste every inch of you."

Billie softly pushed you to lay back on the cushions, your body trembling with anticipation. Billie knelt between your legs, her eyes fixated on your glistening pussy. She leaned in, her warm breath caressing your sensitive skin, making you squirm with pleasure.

Billie's tongue flicked out, teasing your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You moaned out. A sound that echoed through the cabana, a testament to your growing arousal. Billie's mouth was hot and wet, her tongue dancing over your folds, exploring every crevice. The vibrations from Billie’s own moans going straight to your core.

"Oh god, Billie... yes... right there..." Your hands gripped the cushions, your nails digging into the fabric as Billie's tongue found that sweet spot, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

Billie's fingers joined the dance, sliding into your pussy, stroking and teasing your G-spot. Your hips bucked off the cushions, body moving in rhythm with Billie's touch, both of your moans growing louder with each thrust.

"That's it, baby, let go," Billie encouraged, her voice thick with desire. "Scream my name, let everyone on this island know how good it feels."

Your inhibitions melted away as the pleasure consumed you. You screamed Billie's name, your angelic voice carrying across the villa, a declaration of your shared passion. Your body shook with the force of your orgasm, your juices flowing freely as Billie continued to lick and suck, drawing out every last drop of pleasure.

As your tremors subsided, Billie crawled up your body, her naked breasts pressing against yours, your hearts pounding in unison. She leaned down to kiss you softly, making you taste yourself on Billie’s lips, a delicious reminder of their passion.

"I love how you let go," Billie whispered, her fingers tracing your face. "It's so fucking hot to hear you scream."

You smiled, cheeks flushed with pleasure. "I love pleasing you, Billie. I want to make you feel the same way."

Billie's eyes darkened with desire. "Oh, I plan to make you scream again, doll. But first, I want to show you something."

Intrigued, you followed Billie as she stepped out of the cabana, her naked body illuminated by the moon. You walked hand in hand towards the edge of the patio, where a small gate led to a small secluded, private beach. The sand was soft and cool beneath your feet, the ocean waves crashing gently in the distance.

Billie found a spot right where the waves met the sand, both of you letting the waves tumble over your feet. It wasn’t too close to where the water would engulf you, but just close enough to feel the cool waves. Billie tilted your chin up to meet her gaze before kissing you softly. As she pulled away she had a mischievous but loving look in her eyes.

"I've always had a fantasy about making love on the beach," Billie confessed, her voice low and seductive. "Just you and me, under the stars, with the sound of the ocean as our soundtrack."

Your heart raced at the thought. You had never done anything so daring, but with Billie, you felt brave and adventurous. The idea of being so exposed, yet so intimate, was incredibly arousing. After all, this was a private beach so no one would stumble upon you too by accident.

Billie got in her knees, grabbing your hand to bring you down as well. Gently, she laid down you down on the soft sand, entwining your bodies together, the cool breeze caressing your naked skin, making your nipples harden once again. Billie's hands roamed over your body, her touch gentle and loving. She kissed you softly as a wave crashed down, the water trickling up to where you two lay, your tongues dancing in a slow, sensual rhythm.

"I want to make love to you here," Billie whispered, her breath warm against your neck. "I want to feel you come around me, with the ocean as our witness."

You body trembled at the thought. You could feel Billie's desire, her own arousal building with each touch. You wanted to give yourself to Billie, to surrender to the pleasure of the moment.

Billie positioned herself between your legs, her wet pussy brushing against your. She guided herself down slowly, your bodies fitting together perfectly, like puzzle pieces finally united. She held your thigh softly, opening your legs further as she sunk down fully onto your pussy. You both gasped at the sensation, your body welcoming Billie's invasion.

"You feel so good pretty girl," Billie murmured, her hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm. "I love being with you like this, baby."

Your hands gripped Billie’s thighs, your nails scratching softly as Billie's hips picked up the pace, her thrusts becoming harder and faster. The sound of your flesh slapping together filled the night air, a primal rhythm that heightened your arousal. The ocean waves continued to crash into the two of the, the force of the wave and the cool temperature of the water adding to the sensation.

"Oh, Billie... yes... fuck me..." Your voice was hoarse with desire, your body now moving in sync with Billie's, your sweat-slicked, wet skin glistening under the moonlight.

Billie's fingers found your clit, rubbing and circling as she rode you, driving you closer to the edge. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps, your body tensing as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak.

"Come for me, baby," Billie urged, her voice thick with her own desire. "Let me feel you cum in the ocean."

That was all it took for your body to explode in a cascade of pleasure, your orgasm ripping through her like a storm as the waves continued to ebb and flow around you. You cried out, your voice carrying across the beach, a primal sound of ecstasy. Your pussy clenched as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

Billie continued to thrust, her own orgasm building as she felt your pussy warm and pulsating. The warmth of your pussy providing a stark contrast from the ocean water. She threw her head back, her body tensing as she came, her hot cum melting down your pussy and legs, your bodies moving as one in the aftermath of your shared pleasure.

You laid entwined on the beach, your hearts still racing, your bodies glistening with sweat and cum and beads of salty water. The moon shone down on you, a silent witness to your passion, as you shared tender kisses and whispered words of love as the ocean continued its own waves.

"That was incredible," you breathed, your eyes sparkling with satisfaction as you pushed some damp hair from Billie’s face. “I've never felt so free and alive."

Billie smiled, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "We're not done yet, sweet girl. There's so much more I want to show you, so many ways I want to pleasure you."

Your heart raced at the thought of what else Billie had in store for you. The night was young, and your passion was far from over. As you stood up, brushing the sand from each other’s bodies, you knew that this was just the beginning of an unforgettable night.

🌊✨☁️🩵🫧

[w1w2]

The Art of Confessing

Karina x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 7k

Synopsis: Y/N finds herself inspired by her friend Karina. As their bond deepens, Y/N faces the ultimate decision to reveal her heart through her work.

Notes: Here's a little something I promised to celebrate 100 followers! Thank you so, so much for all the support babes! Also, I might have a thing for rooftops and balconies since I'm using these places quite often. Oops.

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The soft hum of a vinyl record filled the air, its crackling warmth wrapping the room like a comforting blanket. Y/N sat cross legged on the floor of her cozy apartment, a cup of chamomile tea steaming beside her. Around her, the space was a kaleidoscope of creativity, canvases leaned against the walls, some finished, others abandoned midway, each capturing fleeting glimpses of her innermost thoughts. Sketchbooks lay stacked haphazardly on the low wooden table, their pages bursting with pencil strokes, splashes of paint, and smudges that told the story of countless late-night bursts of inspiration.

Few knew about this side of her. As an idol, Y/N’s life was on constant display, each moment scrutinized by adoring fans and media alike. Yet this, the smell of paint, the quiet shuffle of brushes, was hers alone. It was her escape, her sanctuary.

That evening, the world outside her window shimmered with a thousand city lights, each one a tiny story flickering in the dark. Y/N traced her finger along the rim of her mug, her thoughts trailing back to the night before.

“Y/N, look at that!” Karina’s voice had been filled with awe as she pointed toward the horizon. They had sneaked away to a rooftop in the heart of the city, a rare pocket of freedom in their otherwise hectic schedules. The air had been crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming jasmine from a garden below.

Y/N turned her gaze to Karina, the lights casting a soft glow over her features. She looked breathtaking, like a dream painted in strokes of moonlight and stardust. Karina’s long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, her profile serene yet commanding as she gazed at the cityscape.

“You’re staring,” Karina had teased, her lips curling into that faint, knowing smile that never failed to make Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

“I was just… appreciating the view,” Y/N replied, her voice faltering slightly.

Karina chuckled, nudging her playfully. “You’re impossible.”

Yet in that moment, Y/N couldn’t help but think how lucky she was to have Karina in her life. Karina, with her grounded warmth and quiet strength, was a constant source of inspiration. She had an aura that drew people in, and yet, it was the quiet moments, like the one on the rooftop, that Y/N cherished most.

Now, back in her apartment, Y/N’s fingers hovered over her sketchbook, hesitant. The image of Karina bathed in city lights lingered vividly in her mind, and for the first time in a long while, she felt the urge to create something deeply personal.

She picked up a pencil and began to draw, her hand moving almost instinctively. The curve of Karina’s jaw, the gentle slope of her shoulders, the way her eyes seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words, it all flowed onto the page. But as the sketch took form, Y/N’s heart raced with uncertainty.

Would Karina ever see this? Should she?

The doorbell rang, jolting Y/N from her thoughts. Her heart skipped as she glanced at the sketch in front of her, a delicate, unfinished portrait of Karina. Hastily, she grabbed a loose sheet of paper and slid it over the drawing, her cheeks flushing at the thought of someone, especially Karina, seeing it before she was ready.

Taking a calming breath, she headed to the door and swung it open. “Jimin!” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of surprise and delight.

Karina stood there, casually radiant in an oversized hoodie and faded jeans. Her hair was tied into a loose ponytail, a few strands framing her face. The understated look only made her more striking, as if she didn’t need to try to shine. In one hand, she held a bag of takeout, and in the other, two bottles of sparkling water.

“Thought you might need a break,” Karina said, flashing a grin that sent a familiar flutter through Y/N’s chest. Without waiting for an invitation, Karina stepped inside, her presence immediately lighting up the room.

“You’re the best,” Y/N said, closing the door behind her.

Karina placed the bag on the coffee table and glanced around, her sharp eyes taking in the colorful clutter of Y/N’s apartment. Canvases leaned against walls, brushes sat soaking in jars, and scattered pencils seemed to tell the story of an artist’s whirlwind evening.

“You’ve been busy,” Karina remarked, gesturing toward the organized chaos with a tilt of her chin.

“Oh, that?” Y/N waved a hand, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just… messing around.” She prayed her nervousness wasn’t obvious.

Karina arched a brow, her expression both amused and curious. “Messing around, huh? You’ve got a whole gallery in here. You’re so talented, you know.” Her tone was sincere, her gaze lingering on Y/N as if trying to decipher a hidden secret. “I wish you’d share your work more often.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm at the compliment, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe someday,” she murmured, her voice quiet.

They settled on the couch, the soft glow of the overhead light casting a warm ambiance over the room. As Karina unpacked the takeout, steaming boxes of stir-fry and dumplings, she filled the air with easy conversation. She talked about practice, the antics of her fellow members, and a particularly chaotic video shoot that had them all laughing until their stomachs hurt.

Y/N listened intently, her laughter joining Karina’s at the funny parts, her heart swelling at the sound of Karina’s melodic voice. Despite the chaos of their lives as idols, Karina always managed to bring a sense of calm and grounding, as if she were an anchor in the storm.

At one point, Karina reached for a napkin and accidentally knocked over a small box of charcoal pencils on the coffee table. They spilled onto the floor with a clatter.

“Oops!” Karina laughed, bending down to gather them.

“No, no, it’s fine!” Y/N said quickly, diving forward and snatching up the sheet of paper that concealed her sketch before Karina could notice.

Karina’s gaze flickered to the movement, her brows furrowing slightly. “What’s that?”

“Nothing!” Y/N blurted, clutching the paper against her chest. Realizing how suspicious she looked, she forced a chuckle. “Just some random doodles. You know, practice stuff.”

Karina studied her for a moment, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “You’re acting weird, Y/N.”

“I’m not weird,” Y/N countered, her voice slightly higher than usual.

“Sure you’re not,” Karina said, her tone light but her eyes narrowing playfully. She reached out and lightly poked Y/N’s cheek. “Relax. I’m just messing with you.”

The exchange left Y/N flustered but relieved. Karina didn’t press further, though her curiosity lingered in the air like an unspoken question.

The evening continued, filled with shared laughter and moments of comfortable silence as they enjoyed their meal. Y/N found herself stealing glances at Karina, her mind racing with thoughts of the sketch hidden beneath her stack of papers.

When the clock struck eleven, Karina stretched and reached for her jacket. “I should head back. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

“I won’t,” Y/N lied, already knowing she’d be awake for hours.

Karina smiled and leaned down, her face just inches from Y/N’s as she tied her sneakers. “You better not overwork yourself, miss artist,” she said, her voice soft but teasing.

Y/N’s breath caught, and she could only nod, her throat too tight to respond.

When the door clicked shut behind Karina, the apartment felt strangely empty, the warmth of her presence lingering in the air.

Y/N walked back to her desk and uncovered the sketch, her heart pounding as she studied the lines she’d drawn. This time, she didn’t hold back.

With each stroke of her pencil, she poured her admiration and feelings into the image, the way Karina’s eyes crinkled when she laughed, the softness in her expression when she was deep in thought, the strength she exuded even in her most relaxed moments. It all came alive on the page, vibrant and real.

As the first rays of dawn seeped through the curtains, Y/N set down her pencil, her fingers smudged with charcoal. She stared at the finished sketch, her heart swelling with a mix of pride and vulnerability.

It wasn’t just a drawing. It was a love letter, a silent confession written in graphite and paper.

Karina was her muse.

The days following that late-night sketch session felt like a whirlwind for Y/N. Her schedule was packed with rehearsals, performances, and photoshoots, leaving little time for anything else. Yet, despite the chaos, her mind kept drifting back to her secret project.

Every spare moment was stolen to work on it. Between practice breaks and after long days of filming, Y/N found herself sketching Karina again and again, her laughter, her focused expressions during dance practice, the softness in her eyes when she let her guard down.

But translating her emotions into her art proved to be more difficult than she’d imagined. Y/N wanted the portrait to capture more than just Karina’s beauty. She wanted it to hold the warmth of Karina’s laugh, the steadiness of her presence, and the way she made Y/N feel. Safe, inspired, and completely seen.

One evening, while sitting in the corner of her bedroom, Y/N stared at the half finished painting on the easel in front of her. The initial sketch had evolved into a vivid portrait, the details slowly coming to life under layers of paint. But something was missing.

She sighed, setting her brush down. “Why is this so hard?” she whispered to herself.

Her phone buzzed on the table beside her, pulling her attention away. It was Jimin. "Don’t forget, we’re rehearsing the collab choreography tomorrow morning.”

Y/N smiled, her frustration melting slightly. She typed back a quick confirmation before leaning back against the wall, her thoughts drifting.

The next day, the two groups gathered in a spacious practice studio, the mirrored walls reflecting their every movement. As the choreographer explained the sequence, Y/N found her attention slipping. Her gaze kept flickering toward Karina, who was listening intently, her brow furrowed in concentration.

When they began dancing, Karina moved like water, smooth and effortless. There was a quiet intensity in her every step, a confidence that made her impossible to look away from.

“Y/N, are you spacing out?” Ryujin’s voice cut through her thoughts, accompanied by a playful nudge.

Y/N blinked, realizing she had completely missed her cue. “Ah, sorry! Let’s go again.”

As they reset, Y/N noticed Karina watching her from the corner of her eye. Karina’s lips curved into a small, amused smile before she turned back to her position.

Y/N’s heart stuttered, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks burning.

Throughout the rest of the rehearsal, Y/N tried to focus, but Karina’s presence was like a gravitational pull. Every time they danced side by side or shared a fleeting glance, Y/N’s thoughts grew more tangled. By the time practice ended, she was thoroughly exhausted, not from the choreography, but from the effort of keeping her feelings in check.

Late that night, Y/N sat at her desk, sketching furiously. Karina’s focused expression from their joint practice earlier filled her mind. She could still see the determination in Karina’s eyes, the effortless grace in her movements. Y/N tried to capture that feeling on paper, but her hand faltered.

Letting out a groan, Y/N leaned back in her chair. “Why is this so hard?” she muttered, her voice cutting through the quiet room.

Her phone buzzed on the desk, and she glanced at the screen.

“Still awake?” Karina’s message read.

Y/N smiled, her frustration easing slightly. She typed back quickly, “Yeah, just working on some stuff. What about you?”

A few moments later, her phone buzzed again. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d check in.”

She laughed softly to herself, imagining Karina typing the message with her usual casual ease. Y/N replied, “You should rest. We’ve got another long rehearsal tomorrow.”

“Only if you rest too,” Karina shot back.

Y/N placed her phone face down on the table, the ghost of a smile still playing on her lips. Even through a screen, Karina had a way of making her feel warm and cared for.

The next day, the two groups gathered in the studio, the polished floors gleaming under the bright overhead lights. The sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the rhythmic beat of the backing track filled the air. The collaboration stage was shaping up to be something spectacular, but the pressure to make it flawless was mounting with each practice session.

Y/N stood in formation, her body moving instinctively to the choreography she had drilled into muscle memory. Yet her mind wandered, drawn to the figure a few feet away.

Karina’s intensity was captivating. Y/N found herself watching the way the light caught Karina’s profile, accentuating the curve of her jaw and the focused set of her lips. Her heart skipped as Karina tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and reset her position, her gaze sharp and unwavering.

“Y/N, focus!” Ryujin’s voice snapped her back to reality.

Startled, Y/N realized she had completely missed her cue. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she mumbled, “Sorry!” She quickly stepped back into position, her face burning with embarrassment.

The choreographer paused the track, clapping his hands together. “Reset from the top! Let’s clean up that transition.”

As everyone moved to their starting positions, Y/N felt a pair of eyes on her. She glanced up, and there was Karina, her lips curled into a faint smile. It wasn’t teasing or judgmental, just soft, almost amused, as if Karina could read the flustered jumble of thoughts in Y/N’s mind.

Y/N’s heart stuttered, and she quickly averted her gaze, willing herself to concentrate. She couldn’t afford to mess up again, especially not with Karina watching.

The music started again, and Y/N threw herself into the choreography with renewed determination. Yet, in the back of her mind, she couldn’t shake the image of Karina’s knowing smile, a lingering echo that stayed with her long after practice ended.

That evening, back in her apartment, Y/N stood in front of her half-finished painting. The day’s events replayed in her mind, the way Karina moved, the way she smiled, the way her presence seemed to fill every corner of the rehearsal studio.

The painting stared back at her, the lines bold yet incomplete, as if waiting for her to find the missing piece. The form was taking shape, the details slowly emerging under her brushstrokes, but it still felt unfinished. Y/N didn’t just want to capture Karina’s beauty, she wanted to capture everything that made Karina who she was. Her strength. Her warmth. Her quiet, vulnerable moments.

She picked up her brush, dipping it into a soft shade of brown, and began adding more detail to Karina’s eyes. But the more she painted, the more her thoughts spiraled. Was she even capable of doing this? Could she truly convey everything she felt without ruining it?

Doubt crept in, tightening her chest. Y/N sighed, setting the brush down for a moment. Her phone buzzed on the table, the sound breaking through the quiet hum of her apartment.

She picked it up and smiled at the message on the screen.

“Did you eat yet?”

Y/N laughed softly to herself, imagining Karina sitting in her dorm, texting her between her own bouts of exhaustion. She quickly typed back, “Not yet. Thinking of ordering something soon. You?”

The reply came almost instantly. “Same. Want to order together?”

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, her heart racing slightly. This was her chance to see Karina again outside of practice, to share a moment that was just theirs.

“Sure. Come over?” she finally wrote, her pulse quickening as she hit send.

Moments later, her phone lit up with Karina’s response. “On my way.”

Y/N exhaled, her heart still pounding. She looked around her apartment, suddenly self-conscious about the mess of paint brushes and canvases scattered everywhere. She quickly tidied up, covering the easel with a cloth and stacking her sketchbooks into a neat pile on her desk.

By the time the doorbell rang, she was ready, though her nerves still buzzed under the surface.

When Karina arrived, she was dressed casually in a hoodie and sweatpants, her face free of makeup but still radiant. She carried a bag of takeout in one hand and a playful grin on her face.

“Thought I’d save you the trouble of deciding,” Karina said, stepping inside.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Y/N replied, her nervousness masked by a wide smile.

They settled on the couch, the warm scent of food filling the apartment as they dug in. Conversation flowed easily, as it always did between them.

Karina glanced around the room between bites. Her eyes landed on the corner where Y/N’s easel stood, partially covered by a cloth. “You’ve been busy,” she remarked, gesturing toward the scattered art supplies.

“Just… experimenting,” Y/N said quickly, hoping her voice sounded casual.

Karina raised an eyebrow. “You’re so secretive about it. Can I see?”

“Nope!” Y/N blurted, perhaps too forcefully. “It’s not ready yet.”

Karina tilted her head, her teasing smile making a return. “You’re terrible at hiding things, you know.”

Y/N felt her cheeks burn. “You’ll see it eventually. Just… not yet.”

Karina didn’t push further, though the curiosity lingered in her expression. “Fine. But now I’m intrigued.”

Later that night, after Karina left, Y/N stood in front of the painting. The interaction had left her more determined than ever to finish it. Every brushstroke felt like a piece of her heart being poured onto the canvas.

But as the painting neared completion, so did Y/N’s anxiety. What if Karina didn’t understand? What if this changed everything?

Desperate for advice, she called Ryujin, one of the few people she trusted with the truth.

“I’m painting Karina,” Y/N admitted, her voice trembling.

Ryujin’s reaction was immediate. “Oh my god, like painting painting? The romantic kind?”

“Yes,” Y/N whispered.

“Y/N, that’s huge.”

“I don’t know if I can tell her,” Y/N said. “What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if it ruins everything?”

As Y/N stared at the nearly finished piece later that night, her heart swelled with a mix of hope and fear. The time to reveal it was drawing near.

The days after Y/N’s confession to Ryujin felt heavier. Each time she looked at the painting, a wave of doubt rolled through her. The details were all there, the delicate curve of Karina’s smile, the warmth in her eyes, the quiet strength she carried in every movement. It was a masterpiece in Y/N’s eyes, but also a fragile piece of her heart.

Would Karina see it for what it was? Or would she feel uncomfortable, pressured by the unspoken feelings woven into every stroke?

Y/N shook her head, trying to brush the thoughts away as she flipped open her sketchbook. She wanted to clear her mind by sketching something simple, but her hand moved instinctively, and once again, she began to draw Karina.

The lines flowed easily, forming the familiar tilt of Karina’s head, the soft curve of her lips when she smiled. She was so lost in her work that she didn’t hear the door open.

“Y/N?”

Karina’s voice startled her, and she fumbled with the sketchbook, nearly dropping it.

“Oh, hey!” Y/N said, her voice a little too bright.

Karina raised an eyebrow as she walked further into the room, her expression curious. “What are you working on?”

“Nothing important,” Y/N replied quickly, snapping the sketchbook shut.

Karina wasn’t so easily deterred. With a playful grin, she reached out and gently tugged the book from Y/N’s hands. “Come on. You’ve never let me see anything.”

“Jimin, wait!” Y/N’s protests fell on deaf ears as Karina flipped to the page she’d been working on.

For a moment, Karina didn’t say anything, her eyes scanning the unfinished sketch. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, her palms clammy as she waited for Karina’s reaction.

“This is…” Karina started, her voice soft. She glanced up at Y/N, her expression unreadable. “Is this me?”

Y/N swallowed hard, her mind scrambling for an explanation. “It’s just a practice piece,” she said, her voice strained. “I was messing around.”

Karina’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “You’re really good at this, you know. I didn’t realize you were so obsessed with my face.”

“I’m not!” Y/N’s cheeks burned as she snatched the sketchbook back.

Karina laughed, a sound that was warm and light, filling the room. “Relax, Y/N. It’s flattering, really. You’ve got talent.”

Y/N forced a shaky laugh, her stomach twisting in knots. “Thanks,” she murmured, clutching the sketchbook to her chest.

As Karina turned to grab her water bottle, Y/N exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. That was too close.

Later that night, Y/N sat on her bed, staring at the closed sketchbook in her lap. The encounter replayed over and over in her mind, each moment gnawing at her resolve.

What if the painting was too much? The sketch had been casual, yet even that felt vulnerable. How could she show Karina the painting when it held everything she couldn’t say out loud?

Her phone buzzed, and she saw a message from Minjeong.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Without thinking too much about it, Y/N replied, “Can we talk?”

An hour later, Y/N found herself sitting in a café with Minjeong and Ryujin. The small booth felt cozy, and the low murmur of other patrons provided a comforting backdrop. Still, Y/N couldn’t shake her nerves.

“So,” Ryujin said, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “You called us here to spill some tea?”

Minjeong sipped her iced coffee, her eyes sharp with curiosity. “What’s going on?”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. Finally, she sighed. “I’ve been working on something… for Karina.”

Ryujin raised an eyebrow. “You mean the painting? You didn’t chicken out on finishing it, did you?”

“No, it’s done,” Y/N admitted. “Mostly, anyway.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Minjeong asked.

Y/N hesitated, her voice dropping. “She almost saw it. I mean, she saw a sketch of her, and even that felt so… exposed. I don’t know if I can show her the real thing. What if it’s too much? What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

Ryujin exchanged a glance with Minjeong before leaning back in her seat. “Okay, first of all, you’re overthinking this. It’s a painting, not a marriage proposal.”

Minjeong gave Ryujin a pointed look before turning to Y/N. “What she means is, you’re letting fear stop you from sharing something beautiful. Karina’s not the type to make you feel bad about your feelings. She’ll see the effort you put into it and appreciate it.”

Y/N sighed, still unconvinced. “But what if it changes things between us? What if it makes things… awkward?”

Ryujin leaned forward again, her tone gentler this time. “Listen, Y/N. You’ve already poured your heart into that painting. Keeping it hidden isn’t going to make those feelings go away. Karina deserves to see it. And you deserve to let her know how you feel, even if it’s scary.”

Minjeong nodded in agreement. “Think of it this way. The worst that can happen is a little awkwardness. But the best that can happen? That’s worth the risk.”

Y/N looked between her two friends, their words sinking in. Deep down, she knew they were right.

“Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll do it. I’ll show her.”

Ryujin grinned, raising her cup of coffee in a mock toast. “That’s the spirit.”

As Y/N walked home, the city lights twinkled like scattered diamonds against the velvety darkness. The crisp evening air carried a faint chill, brushing against her cheeks and filling her lungs with a sharp clarity that mirrored the resolve forming in her chest. Each step felt lighter, as if the weight of her fear was slowly being replaced by a flicker of courage. It wasn’t overwhelming or all-consuming, but it was there, a small, steady flame burning quietly within her. She wasn’t entirely ready, but she was getting there.

Her thoughts swirled as she reached her apartment building and climbed the familiar stairs. Every moment with Karina flashed vividly in her mind, the way her laughter lit up a room, the quiet strength in her gaze, the unguarded moments when she let her softer side show. Y/N’s lips curved into a small, wistful smile as she unlocked her door and stepped inside.

The apartment greeted her with its usual stillness, the faint scent of paint lingering in the air. She set her bag down and crossed the room to where the painting rested on its easel, waiting like a secret she wasn’t sure she could keep much longer.

Standing before it, Y/N reached out and let her fingers trace the edges of the canvas. The surface was smooth under her touch, but the emotions it held felt raw and vulnerable. The colors were vibrant yet soft, carefully chosen to bring life to Karina’s essence. Her gaze lingered on the delicate details, the gentle curve of Karina’s lips, the light in her eyes, the quiet strength radiating from her expression.

It was more than a painting. It was a confession, a love letter written in brushstrokes and hues. Every inch of it held a piece of Y/N’s heart, a reflection of feelings she had carried silently for so long.

Her breath hitched as a wave of emotion washed over her, an ache of longing, a surge of fear, and a spark of hope all tangled together. Could she really do this? Could she lay her heart bare and trust that Karina would understand?

She took a step back, her arms wrapping around herself as she stared at the painting. The vulnerability was terrifying, but the thought of keeping it hidden felt even worse. This was her truth, and no matter how afraid she was, she knew it deserved to be seen.

Y/N took a deep breath, letting it fill her chest and steady her trembling hands.

The days that followed were a blur of anticipation and nerves. Every glance at the painting made Y/N’s heart race, her emotions swinging between fear and hope. She spent hours in her studio, touching up the smallest details, ensuring every stroke was perfect.

When she finally set her brush down, she knew it was time.

Y/N paced her apartment that evening, her mind racing as she rehearsed the words she wanted to say. None of them seemed quite right. What could she say to explain the depth of her feelings? How could she capture in words what she had spent weeks pouring into the painting?

Her phone buzzed on the table, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. She reached for it with slightly trembling hands, her breath catching when she saw the name on the screen. Jimin.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

The message was simple, casual, but it sent Y/N’s heart racing. She stared at the screen for a long moment, her thoughts spinning. This was it. The moment she’d been building toward.

Y/N’s fingers hovered over the keyboard before she typed back, “Yeah. Want to come over?”

The reply came almost instantly.

“Sure. Be there in an hour.”

Y/N stared at the screen, her pulse quickening. Her mind buzzed with a mix of excitement and nerves. She stood up, the chair scraping softly against the floor, and looked around the room.

The painting stood on its easel in the corner, draped in a soft white cloth like a secret waiting to be uncovered. Y/N adjusted the drape, making sure it covered the painting completely, then stepped back to take in the room.

The lighting was warm and dim, the soft glow of the overhead light complemented by a small lamp near her desk. Shadows danced faintly on the walls, giving the space an intimate, cozy feel. It was exactly what she wanted for this moment, a place where she could share something deeply personal, without the chaos of the outside world intruding.

But as the minutes ticked by, Y/N felt her nerves growing. What if this didn’t go as she hoped? What if Karina didn’t understand what the painting meant? She shook her head, trying to push the doubts away.

By the time the doorbell rang, her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her ears.

Y/N took a deep breath, smoothing her hands over her sweater before crossing the room. She paused for a moment in front of the door, steadying herself, then opened it.

Karina stood there, her usual casual elegance effortlessly on display. She wore a simple black sweater and jeans, the fabric hugging her frame in a way that was both understated and stunning. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, catching the light from the hallway.

“Hey,” Karina said, her smile as radiant as ever. “You okay? You look a little…” She tilted her head, studying Y/N’s face. “Nervous.”

“I’m fine,” Y/N said quickly, stepping aside to let her in. “Just… been working on something.”

Karina raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “Oh? Another secret project?”

Y/N led her to the studio, her heart pounding as she gestured toward the covered easel. “It’s finished now. And I… I want you to see it.”

Karina’s eyes softened, her smile turning gentle. “You’ve been so mysterious about this. I’ve been dying to know what you’ve been working on.”

Y/N hesitated, her hands trembling as she reached for the edge of the cloth. She paused, glancing at Karina. “Before I show you… just know that this is really personal. It’s not just a painting. It’s…” She trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Karina stepped closer, her expression reassuring. “Hey. It’s okay. Show me.”

Taking a deep breath, Y/N reached for the cloth, her fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against the soft fabric. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering to Karina. The warmth in Karina’s gaze was reassuring, steady, and it gave Y/N the courage she needed.

With a single, fluid motion, Y/N pulled the cloth away, revealing the painting.

The room fell silent.

Karina’s breath caught audibly as her eyes locked on the canvas. Her lips parted slightly, her expression a mixture of awe and disbelief. She took a small step closer, her gaze moving slowly over the intricate details of the piece.

The painting was a masterpiece, a vivid and breathtaking portrayal of Karina that went beyond simple likeness. It captured not just her beauty but the very essence of who she was. Her eyes sparkled with a soft light that seemed alive, brimming with both strength and vulnerability. Her posture exuded quiet confidence, a testament to her resilience, while the warmth radiating from her expression seemed to fill the room itself.

“Y/N…” Karina’s voice was barely a whisper, the sound delicate and almost fragile. She stepped closer, her hand lifting instinctively. Her fingers hovered near the canvas, trembling slightly, as if she were afraid touching it might break the spell it had cast. “This is… me?”

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat tight as she nodded. “It’s you.”

Karina’s gaze remained on the painting, her eyes tracing every detail, every brushstroke. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of wonder and something deeper, something Y/N couldn’t quite name. Slowly, Karina turned her head to meet Y/N’s eyes.

“Why?” she asked softly, her voice filled with genuine curiosity and an undercurrent of something heavier.

The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

Y/N’s heart raced, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as she struggled to find the right words. Her voice trembled when she finally spoke. “Because… you inspire me,” she began, her gaze dropping for a moment before lifting again to meet Karina’s. “Every time I see you, every time we talk, I feel… something I can’t put into words. So I put it here.”

She gestured toward the painting, her hands shaking slightly. “You’ve become my muse, Jimin. Not just for my art, but… for everything.”

Karina’s breath hitched, the sound almost imperceptible in the quiet room. She turned fully toward Y/N, her eyes glistening under the soft studio lights. “You feel that way about me?”

Y/N nodded, her chest tightening as she fought to keep her emotions in check. “I do,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I know this might change things, but… I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. You mean so much to me, and I needed you to know.”

The silence that followed felt endless. Every second stretched into an eternity, each beat of Y/N’s heart pounding in her ears. Doubt began to creep in, clawing at her as she stood frozen, her vulnerability laid bare.

Then Karina smiled.

It was small at first, a soft curve of her lips that grew into something tender and luminous. It was the kind of smile that melted every ounce of Y/N’s doubt, that quieted the storm of fear in her chest.

“Y/N,” Karina said gently, her voice steady despite the emotion thickening it. “This is… the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Y/N felt tears prick at her eyes, her breath catching as she searched Karina’s expression for reassurance.

“You mean so much to me too,” Karina continued, her smile deepening. She stepped closer, closing the space between them. “More than I think I’ve ever been able to say. And now, looking at this… it’s like you’ve said everything I’ve ever felt but didn’t know how to put into words.”

Y/N’s lips parted, but no sound came out. The weight of Karina’s words, the depth of her gaze, left her speechless.

Karina’s hand reached out, hesitant at first, before gently brushing against Y/N’s. “You didn’t just paint me. You saw me.” Her voice was soft, her tone reverent. “And no one’s ever done that before.”

Y/N’s heart swelled, a warmth spreading through her that made her feel as if she might float. “I couldn’t help it,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “You’ve always been so much more than what people see. I just… I wanted to show you what I see.”

Karina’s smile turned wistful as she stepped even closer, their hands brushing again, this time lingering. “You’ve always seen me, Y/N,” she murmured. “I just didn’t realize how much it meant until now.”

In one fluid motion, Karina lifted her hand to Y/N’s cheek, her touch featherlight. Her gaze dropped to Y/N’s lips for a fleeting moment before meeting her eyes again, and in that shared look, the world seemed to fall away.

“Can I?” Karina whispered, her voice barely audible.

Y/N’s nod was almost imperceptible, but it was all Karina needed.

When their lips met, it was tentative at first, a gentle brush that held the weight of every unspoken word, every lingering glance, and every stolen moment they had shared. The softness of the kiss was electric, sending a shiver through Y/N that started at her lips and spread outward, warming every part of her.

For a fleeting second, the world seemed to hold its breath. Time slowed, the only sound in the room, the faint hum of the overhead lights and the quiet rush of Y/N’s heartbeat in her ears. Her hands hovered uncertainly by her sides before she found the courage to let them rest lightly on Karina’s waist, her touch tentative but steadying.

Karina responded with equal care, tilting her head slightly to deepen the kiss. Her fingers, which had been resting delicately on Y/N’s cheek, slipped into her hair, threading gently through the strands as if anchoring herself in the moment. There was a deliberateness in her movements, as though she wanted to savor every second, every sensation.

The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, a dance of emotion that spoke louder than any words ever could. It wasn’t rushed or fleeting, it was grounding, a moment where they both poured out everything they had held back for so long. Y/N’s mind swirled, her senses overwhelmed by the softness of Karina’s lips, the faint scent of her perfume, the warmth radiating from her touch.

Y/N could feel Karina’s breath hitch slightly, a soft, almost inaudible sound that sent a jolt of vulnerability and affection straight to her chest. She tightened her grip just a fraction, her fingers curling slightly into the fabric of Karina’s sweater. It was as if she needed something tangible to hold onto, to remind herself that this wasn’t a dream.

Karina shifted closer, their bodies brushing in a way that felt both grounding and electrifying. The space between them disappeared entirely, leaving nothing but the shared warmth of their connection. Y/N could feel the faint, rapid rhythm of Karina’s heartbeat against her own, a quiet reminder that they were both equally affected by this moment.

When they pulled apart, Karina rested her forehead against Y/N’s, her smile soft and full of quiet joy. “I guess I really am your muse now,” she said, her voice laced with a playful warmth.

“You always have been,” Y/N replied, her own smile mirroring Karina’s.

They stayed like that for a moment, the glow of the studio lights wrapping them in a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. The painting stood behind them, a testament to everything they had finally found the courage to share.

The days that followed felt like stepping into a dream, one that was warm, steady, and more real than anything Y/N could have imagined. After the quiet confessions and the kiss that left their hearts irrevocably intertwined, Y/N and Karina slipped into a rhythm that felt natural, as though they had always been meant to find this harmony.

They were cautious at first, navigating the unspoken boundaries of their new relationship with soft touches and knowing smiles. Y/N found herself drawn to Karina in ways she hadn’t allowed herself before, letting her fingers linger when they brushed against Karina’s, leaning into her when they sat together, and allowing her gaze to linger openly now, no longer afraid of being caught.

Karina, for her part, seemed equally at ease. She’d taken to slipping into Y/N’s studio whenever she had free time, lounging on the couch as Y/N worked. She would sometimes glance at the painting on the wall, the one that started it all, with an expression that was a mix of pride and tenderness.

“It still feels surreal, you know,” Karina said one evening, her voice soft as she leaned her head back against the couch.

Y/N glanced up from her sketchbook, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “What does?”

“That someone could see me the way you do,” Karina replied, her eyes drifting to the painting again.

Y/N set her sketchbook down, crossing the room to sit beside her. “You make it easy,” she murmured, her fingers brushing lightly against Karina’s. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to capture. And now…” She hesitated, her cheeks warming slightly. “Now you’re mine to keep.”

Karina smiled, lacing her fingers with Y/N’s. “And you’re mine.”

The painting remained in its place on the studio wall, a symbol of their love and the moment their hearts had become one. It wasn’t just art anymore, it was a shared memory, a piece of their story. Y/N often caught Karina looking at it, her expression soft with nostalgia, as though reliving the moment she first saw it.

Months later, Y/N stood in her studio, a fresh canvas stretched across her easel. The room was bathed in the golden light of late afternoon, the warmth spilling through the windows and casting soft shadows on the walls.

She stared at the blank canvas, her fingers lightly gripping a brush as she mulled over her next creation. Beside her, Karina was perched on a stool, flipping through one of Y/N’s sketchbooks.

“Starting something new?” Karina asked, her tone curious.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, glancing at her with a playful smile. “And guess what? You’re still the muse.”

Karina laughed, setting the sketchbook down. “I feel like I’ve been promoted. What’s this one about?”

Y/N hesitated, a smile tugging at her lips. “Us,” she said simply.

Karina tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Us?”

Y/N nodded, dipping her brush into a soft, rosy hue and making the first, tentative strokes on the canvas. “I want to paint us together,” she said, her voice soft. “Not just me looking at you, or you being the focus, but us, together, as equals. As…” She paused, glancing at Karina. “As lovers.”

Karina’s cheeks flushed slightly, but her smile was radiant. “That sounds perfect,” she murmured, leaning over to press a soft kiss to Y/N’s temple.

The studio was quiet except for the gentle rustle of brushes and the faint hum of the city outside. Y/N worked steadily, the strokes of her brush deliberate and filled with love. Beside her, Karina stayed close, occasionally reaching out to steady the easel or tease Y/N with playful comments about her artistic process.

As the first outlines of the painting took shape, Y/N felt a deep sense of peace settle over her. The canvas would take time to complete, but that was okay. They had all the time in the world now, together.

The painting, when finished, would hang beside the first, a continuation of their story. Where the first painting was a confession, this one would be a celebration: two hearts, two souls, and a love that had grown stronger with each passing day.

For now, Y/N smiled as she worked, Karina’s laughter filling the space beside her.

[angelofthenight01]

The witch's guardian

Wanda Maximoff x Reader (AU)

genre: horror, fluff  ||     warnings: lycanthropy, witch hunting, violence

The biting wind whips through the skeletal branches of the ancient forest, mirroring the turmoil within you. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, each one a painful reminder of the curse that claws at your soul. The moon, a malevolent eye peering through the swirling clouds, fuels the beast within. Tonight, the change is coming. You can feel it, a burning tide rising in your veins, contorting your bones, reshaping you into something monstrous.

You stumble through the undergrowth, thorns ripping at your worn leather tunic, the scent of damp earth heavy in your nostrils. You abandoned the village days ago, fleeing the terrified whispers and the glint of fear in the eyes of those who had once called you neighbor. They knew, or suspected, a truth you had tried so hard to conceal. The truth of the moon’s hold on you, the monstrous transformation that consumed you under its gaze.

You sought refuge in this dark wood, hoping to outrun the terror, or at least contain it on your own. You find a small clearing, a meager sanctuary, and collapse against the gnarled trunk of an ancient oak. The transformation begins, a horrifying symphony of crackling joints and tearing flesh. You writhe and howl, the sound lost in the symphony of the wind. Claws sprout from your fingers, your teeth lengthen into fangs. Fur bursts through your skin, a coat of thick, dark fur, a shield of shame and revulsion. Finally, you’re no longer a person, no longer human. You are a beast. A werewolf.

You pace, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs, your senses heightened tenfold. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, is amplified into a symphony of fear. The forest, once a haven, now feels like a cage. You are both predator and prey.

Days blur into nights. You scavenge for food, the taste of blood and raw flesh filling your mouth, a stark reminder of the monstrous life you’re forced to lead. You learn to navigate the forest in your beast form, becoming a part of its shadows, a creature of the night. The human you once were feels like a distant memory.

One evening, under a sky bruised with twilight, you catch a scent unlike any you've encountered before. A scent as intoxicating as wildflowers, a lingering note of smoke, and something…else. Something ancient and powerful. It draws you in, pulling you past the usual boundaries of your forest territory, toward an isolated glade bathed in the ethereal glow of twilight.

There, beneath a canopy of ancient trees, stands her.

Wanda.

Even in the dwindling light, her beauty is undeniable. Hair as dark as raven's wings frames a face of sharp angles and mesmerizing emerald eyes. She stands with an air of quiet power, a collection of herbs and strange stones arranged around her in a circle. She is a witch, that much is clear from the aura that radiates from her, and even in your feral state, you know it.

She doesn't flinch at your appearance, doesn't recoil or scream as other humans have. Instead, her gaze meets yours, holding a curious mixture of assessment and understanding. It’s both unnerving and captivating. You find yourself stopping, the instincts that drive you as a wolf warring with an unexpected desire for her approval, or rather, her understanding.

Slowly, you approach, your steps wary but driven. You lower your head slightly, a gesture of submission that feels both instinctive and strange. Wanda watches, her expression unreadable until she offers a slight tilt of her head, a gentle acknowledgment of your approach.

“You're hurting,” she says, her voice low and melodic, a soothing balm to the beastly rage that still rumbles in your chest. “And confused.”

You whimper softly, a sound that holds the pain of your existence.

She moves, but instead of fear, she reaches out, extending a hand towards you, her fingers long and elegant. Hesitantly, you lower your snout until it’s close to her palm. She slowly, and with intention, places her hand on your snout. The touch is brief, a featherlight caress, yet it sends a ripple of warmth through your snarled muscles, a calming wave that soothes the edges of the beast within.

"I can help you," she murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. "But it won’t be easy.”

You look at her, and she at you, and from that moment onwards, you know that your life will change.

Over the next few weeks, you find yourself drawn to her glade each night. It’s the only place where the beast feels manageable, where the pain of your condition feels less like a curse and more like a weight you might learn to carry. Wanda helps you understand the nature of your lycanthropy, teaches you to recognize the triggers, and the slow ways of controlling it. She guides your beastly nature to an equilibrium. She uses herbs and her magic to soothe your mind, eases the transformations.

You, in turn, become her protector. Your wolf form is a fierce guardian, a shadow that lurks in the forest, watching her, keeping her safe. During those long nights, you learn of her history, of her isolation, and her unwavering commitment to the forest and its secrets.

You learn to anticipate the hunt, the growing murmur of human voices and clashing steel that means they've come for her. When the scent of men, their fear and greed, floods the forest, you become a dark whirlwind of fur and teeth. You emerge into the glade, a terrifying figure, and stand between the intruders and Wanda. They've come for the witch who lives in the forest, because they fear that which they don't understand.

Their torches flicker, casting grotesque shadows on their faces. They’re armed with pitchforks, axes, and hunting knives, their eyes filled with a mix of fear and bloodlust. They’ve come to destroy her, and you will tear them apart first.

A roar rips from your throat, a challenge to their presence. You stalk forward, your fangs bared, your eyes glowing with an unnatural light. They hesitate, their bravado faltering in the face of the true predator you have become.

One man, larger than the rest, steps forward, brandishing a rusty axe. “Monster!” he shouts, his voice trembling. “We’ve come for the witch!”

You charge, a blur of speed and rage. You lunge past the axe, your teeth sinking into his fleshy arm. He screams, dropping the weapon, and stumbling back with a terrified yell which echoes through the forest.

The others attack, but you are too fast, too strong. You tear through their ranks, your claws ripping at their clothing, your teeth sinking deep into flesh. You feel a primal exhilaration, a savage joy in the violence you inflict, and you fight with a ferocity born of protective rage. You feel as if you could tear down trees and mountains, you could destroy worlds just to protect her.

You let out a terrifying roar, one that comes deep from your lungs, a primal beast sound that sends them scattering back into the shadows. Your teeth grind against one another, itching for some flesh. Some bones to crush.

They flee, abandoning their weapons, their fear palpable on the wind. You stand panting, your fur matted with blood, the scent of human fear heavy in the air. You turn back to Wanda, and she stares at you with a strange mix of pride, trepidation, and something that could only be called love. Her eyes, though wide, are full of care and adoration.

The night is cold, silent, after the cacophony of the battle, yet in the calmness you see yourself for the first time, see the power, the strength, the protector. You have given into the beast, but you’ve done it for her. You have torn them to shreds for her, defended her with your life, and she recognizes it all.

“You protected me.” She says, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, lowering your head, and transform back to a human again. The shift takes its toll on your body, but you're used to it, and you know she'll fix your wounds. You stand before her, naked, drenched in blood, your body scarred and twisted from the transformations, but she takes your hands anyway.

“I know,” she says. “And I am eternally grateful.” She pulls you in, her touch light, yet you feel as if you're being embraced by the sun. "Let’s clean you up. I have some herbs that will soothe the wounds of the body and the soul.”

You allow yourself to be led into the hut, the only place where the beast in you feels at peace, where the human you once were can breathe again. You know that future battles await, that the men will return, and there will always be those who fear the power of Wanda, whom they call a witch. But you will be there. You, the protector, the beast she now understands. Together, you will face the darkness, you, the monstrous protector, and she, the powerful magician, united by a forbidden forest and a love forged in the shadows.

[mononijikayu]

animals ― ryomen sukuna.

As they stood face to face, their breaths mingling in the stale air, Sukuna felt like they were consumed by a primal hunger that defied reason. The adrenaline rush from their latest crime pulsed through their veins like a potent elixir, fueling the flames of their dark desires. Without a word, Sukuna's hands moved with a feverish urgency, tracing the curves of his lover's body with a hunger that bordered on madness. His touch sent shivers down their spine, igniting a fire within them that burned with an intensity they could scarcely contain.

Genre: Serial Killer AU, No Curse AU;

Warning/s: R-18, Depiction of Murder, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Crime, Sadist Behaviour, Mentions of Graphic Violence, Depiction of Blood, Depiction of Sexual Intercourse, Explicit Depiction of Harm, Toxic Relationship;

masterlist

listen: animals by maroon 5

note: my friend read the first installment of this, devil by the window, and asked where was the smut. so here it is, ig??? bear with this writer, i haven't written smut in a while. but anyway, enjoy!!!

HE WAS ENJOYING THE NIGHT SO FAR. In the dimly lit room, the air hung heavy with the scent of decay and anticipation. Shadows flickered and swayed, casting sinister shapes upon the peeling wallpaper like ghostly apparitions. In the center of this macabre stage stood Sukuna, his tall, lean frame cloaked in ether of darkness. His eyes, pools of red obsidian, gleamed with a predatory allure as they scanned the room with a chilling intensity.

Every movement he made was deliberate, calculated – the mark of a seasoned predator. And he knew it. He basked in the glory of being that animal. One that was feared by all. One that caused the fabric of human fear to manifest. His steps were silent, his presence like a whisper in the night. Sukuna exuded an aura of danger, a magnetism that drew others to him like moths to a flame.

They never knew what he was going to do next, they never knew what he was going to be next – a raging blood thirsty beast or a monster who devours. No one knew. And he adored it. 

His gaze lingered on the assortment of tools scattered across the room – knives, ropes, and other instruments of death. Each one was meticulously arranged, a testament to Sukuna's meticulous nature. He was a master of his craft, a connoisseur of pain and suffering.

For Sukuna was no ordinary killer – he was a force of nature, a creature of the night who reveled in the art of death, the art of manifesting fear. He was the master of all horrors. He had no limitations. It was not fun that way without it. And as he stood in the dimly lit room, surrounded by the remnants of his past conquests, he knew that tonight would be no different. Tonight, he would claim another victim, another soul to add to his ever-growing collection.

As he stood amidst the eerie ambiance, Sukuna's mind buzzed with excitement. Tonight, he would embark on another prey to hunt, another chance to indulge in his darkest desires. His heart quickened with anticipation, the thrill of the chase coursing through his veins like liquid fire. Somehow tonight, it was even more delightful, even more thrilling. Looking at his side, he could see the bubbling excitement in him. It felt like a drug each and every time this happened. 

Each and every night was a time to feel alive. But even more now, as he looked at his partner in crime by his side. He was even more enthusiastic, now that he wasn’t alone doing this. They were oozing with excitement, fidgeting with their fingers. They were itching to hold life and see it gone in an instant. To feel the scarlet river echo at the flesh, to feel the warmth bathe them whole. He could see it so vividly. He could feel it within their grasp.

Beside him stood his unlikely companion, his lover.  They were unlike anyone Sukuna had ever encountered – beautiful, enigmatic, and drawn to the darkness that consumed him. The moment he met them at that horribly dull party, walking into his life— somehow there finally came more in his life. With that dark look on their face, it makes one think that they were born for this life. They were his equal in every way, matching his thirst for thrill and danger. And it riled him up. It made everything about him electric. He could feel the blood boil down south in his member. He feels alive at this moment. But seeing them so vicious, so cruel, so vile. To be a creature of evil. He feels even more alive, knowing he could eat them whole. That he could take them himself, for his pleasure, for his desires, for his wants.

It was as if they were meant for each other, he thinks. They complete each other, make each other completely whole. Sukuna thinks he had been waiting for this his entire life. He has been waiting to feel like he had a pack, that he had a place to belong. He wouldn’t let them go, no. Not even if they wanted to. But he was sure he would not let go of him. They were as lonely as he was. So needy for thrill, for life to begin. He knew they could only find it with him. They would never be without any semblance of life without him. They would never leave him. They needed him. Otherwise, nothing would make sense. 

Together, Sukuna and his lover had embarked on a nightmarish journey, leaving behind a wake of destruction and despair that echoed their twisted desires. In the past few months together, they were hopping town to town, city to city, to commit to drenching the pavements with blood. He and his lover had laughed about the panic they had caused in each and every place they had gotten into turmoil. Each night, the nationwide news reporting on what they had done was the highlight of their dates. They reveled in the chaos, feeding off each other's primal urges with a fervor that bordered on madness.

Tonight was no exception to their macabre routine. They were both aching for more action after moving to another small, obscure town in the middle of nowhere. Sukuna had given his lover the choice of place, of prey, of tactic. He liked seeing his lover happy, after all. And Sukuna too knew that his lover was as a mastermind to crime as he. Everything had been going as planned. That made him howl with vicious laughter, one that even drowned out the screams he so loved to hear. 

As Sukuna wielded his blade with deadly precision, the thrill of violence surged through his veins like a drug. Each cut, each slice, each tear in flesh was a symphony of pain and pleasure, a twisted dance of death that left him intoxicated with power. But amidst the carnage, there was something else – something primal and forbidden that bound them together. It was a connection born of bloodlust and desperation, a bond that transcended the boundaries of morality and reason.

As Sukuna surveyed the aftermath of their rampage, he couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. His lover stood beside him, their hands stained crimson with the blood of the prey long gone. Their eyes gleamed with a feral hunger, their lips curved into a cruel smile that sent shivers down Sukuna's spine. He enjoyed this feeling, he knew that for certain. He grinned at their lust, boring down at the blood that spilled from their hair little by little.

Each and every time, they reveled in the manifestation of their darkest desires, their lust for blood and violence consuming them like wildfire. It was a sight both beautiful and grotesque, a testament to the depths of their depravity. The whole of it was brutal, a true manifestation of relentless viciousness. Yet it only pleased them. It only made them feel more eager to enjoy more and more of this debauchery. 

And as they stood amidst the carnage, Sukuna knew that he could live forever in this moment – a moment of pure, unadulterated madness that bound them together in a twisted embrace. For Sukuna and his dearest lover there was no turning back – they were monsters, born of darkness and consumed by the flames of their own creation. It was everything. He could feel his manhood harden more than before. He was certain that they were just as excited down south, eager for their foreplay to begin as soon as they finished.

As they stood face to face, their breaths mingling in the stale air, Sukuna felt like they were consumed by a primal hunger that defied reason. The adrenaline rush from their latest crime pulsed through their veins like a potent elixir, fueling the flames of their dark desires. Without a word, Sukuna's hands moved with a feverish urgency, tracing the curves of his lover's body with a hunger that bordered on madness. His touch sent shivers down their spine, igniting a fire within them that burned with an intensity they could scarcely contain.

His lover's fingers tangled in Sukuna's bloody hair, pulling him closer as their lips met in a fierce and desperate kiss. The taste of blood melting on their lips, the taste of the scarlet liquid burning their tongues with its salty, metallic ambiance. It was a collision of passion and violence, a melding of two souls bound together by the darkness that consumed them. 

It was like a burning flame, each and every kiss. It was more painful, more dangerous in each and every turn of their touch. They bit his lip so harshly, the blood poured almost instantaneously. Sukuna did not mind. It excited him even more. They looked at him, as they parted. Taking in the breath, they did not let Sukuna take more air. They leaned forward once more, licking the blood and consuming his lips into their own, gripping his tattooed arms to hold them down.

Their bodies moved as one, a symphony of desire and destruction as they succumbed to the primal urges that drove them. Their bloody clothes started to slowly be discarded with reckless abandon, revealing skin marred by scars and bruises, testament to the violence of their existence. But at this moment, none of it mattered. There was only the heat of their bodies pressed together, the frantic rhythm of their hearts beating in unison as they surrendered to the madness that engulfed them.

Sukuna grabbed his lover by the hair and pulled them towards him, kissing them passionately while pushing their body against each other. His lover moaned into the kiss as Sukuna trailed his lips down their bloody neck, licking the flesh clean with his tongue. He grins as he starts leaving bites and marks along the way, eliciting moan after moan at how harshly he bit one after the other. There was no control for him. No mercy. They loved it that way. He knew that too well.

Sukuna then pushed his beloved onto the bed and climbed on top of them, grinding his hips against theirs. He reached behind himself to unfasten his pants hastily, freeing his long suffering erection to rub against his lover's thigh. It was a melodious thing to hear, all the whimpering and groans and whispers against his skin. The clawing nails at his flesh drawing skin to wounds and blood. It was electrifying to be in their arms, not caring in the world for what monstrosity they had just unleashed , still laying somewhere around the house. Sukuna could only care about the sounds of their heavy breathing filled the room as they continued to make out, their hands roaming over each other's bodies.

As they moved faster and faster, Sukuna felt a surge of pleasure shoot through him at the thought of what he was about to do. With one swift motion, he tore open his partner's shirt and began to lick and bite at their chest, marking it with his teeth like he always did. His partner groaned in pain and pleasure as Sukuna used his tongue to create patterns on their skin. It was all too good, all too cruel. One could never live without this. Sukuna knew he couldn’t.

Finally, Sukuna positioned himself above his beloved, his breath hitching with anticipation as he slowly slid inside them, feeling the warmth of their embrace enveloping him. Their nails dug into his arms, a mixture of pain and pleasure rippling through their body as he entered them with a primal force. Sukuna was certain that the air had been punched from both their lungs at the pace. But he did not care. He just cared for getting off the high, for getting more and more, taking and taking. 

A guttural groan escaped Sukuna's lips, the culmination of hours spent holding back his primal urges, his hardened member now fully immersed in the depths of their being. He couldn't help but surrender to the sensation, lost in the intoxicating pleasure of being one with them. He was always a beast, an animal, a monster and they reveled to be in his arms, to take him and be hurt, to accept the darkness for what it was. It only made him feel so big inside of them,  thinking of how they could only love only him. 

Their eyes locked for a brief, intense moment, a silent exchange of raw desire and primal need passing between them before they both closed their eyes, succumbing to the overwhelming ecstasy of their union. As they moved together in a frenzied rhythm, their bodies entwined in a savage dance of passion and carnal desire, Sukuna couldn't shake the feeling that this was where he truly belonged – in the arms of someone who shared his darkest desires, someone who embraced the darkness within him without hesitation.

With each thrust, each gasp of pleasure, He and his lover were so easily becoming one, their souls intertwining in a twisted symphony of lust and madness. The room reverberated with the sound of their bodies colliding in a primal dance of desire, the intensity building with each passing moment. Blood from her scratches marking the drying blood against his tattoos. 

Sukuna's movements became more primal, more aggressive, as he surrendered to the primal urges coursing through his veins. His thrusts grew harsher, more relentless, fueled by the intoxicating mixture of pleasure and pain that enveloped them both. His lover's cries filled the air, a symphony of ecstasy and agony as they surrendered to the savage pleasure of their union. They egged him on, urging him to go faster, to go harder, to make them his prey in this twisted game of lust and desire.

There was no room for remorse or guilt between them – only the intoxicating rush of ecstasy as they surrendered to their darkest impulses, lost in the savage embrace of their love. In this moment, they were untamed beasts, consumed by the fire of their passion, oblivious to the world outside their twisted sanctuary. Nothing was ever so sacred to the two of them than being animals together, in each other’s arms. 

As they reached the peak of their ecstasy, their bodies entwined in a frenzy of desire, Sukuna couldn't help but feel a sense of fulfillment unlike anything he had ever experienced. They shook so violently in his arms, electric and high from the pleasure. When he came inside of them, he was so certain that he had blacked out for a moment. When he returned, he felt air punch out of his lips. He groaned and groaned, thrusting one after another, forcing more and more of himself each and every time—no matter how weary. 

Sukuna pressed kisses against their glistening skin, whispering sweet nothings, horrible sins to be born inside of their horrifying mind. He knew how corrupt they were. But it egged him to desire to know that he bore new festering sickness in a head already defiled by cruelty. They quivered against each word, reciprocating in kind. He envelopes his weight upon their own, certain that he would crush them. They wrapped their arms around him, taking in the scent of sex, carnage, blood and death. And somehow, they would fall asleep, happily at the life of an animal with him. He smiled down at them, watching them rest in the semblance of his chest.

In the arms of his beloved, he had found his truest self.

He knew he was a creature of darkness and desire.

That he was a hungry predator bound to hunt his prey. 

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He was certain that neither would they. 

[akazzzaa]

FINAL FORM

Final form! Kokushibo x Fem! reader

Summary- You fight Kokushibo in his final form. things change in the middle off battle.

Genre- SMUT// Fluff

Warnings- monster fucking// breeding kink// size kink// maybe cnc? if you squint// sex// creampie// fem oral receive

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a glow over the desolate landscape. You kept moving through the dense forest, the air grew thick with tension. Unseen eyes watched from the shadows. The silence broke by a haunting melody that echoed through the trees, a melancholy tune that seemed to herald the arrival of something sinister.

Following the haunting sound, you stumbled upon a clearing bathed in moonlight. At the centre stood Kokushibo, his figure imposing and otherworldly. The demon's black hair cascaded down his back like a waterfall, and his six eyes glowed with an unearthly light. Clad in an elegant nagagi kimono , Kokushibo held a flute to his lips, the haunting melody emanating from its delicate notes.

Kokushibo ceased playing his flute, turning his gaze toward the intruder. His eyes, a mesmerizing shade of gold, locked onto you with a mix of curiosity and disdain. Without a word, Kokushibo unsheathed his blade, a weapon that seemed to dance with the moonlight.

"You are the one who seeks a battle," Kokushibo spoke, his voice like silk and steel intertwined. "A mere mortal. Do you truly believe you can beat me?"

You tightened you grip on your own blade, a testament to your unwavering determination. The battle that followed was a symphony of clashing steel and power, a dance between a demon of ancient lineage and a demon slayer fuelled by purpose.

The moon hung high in the sky now, You now faced the ultimate challenge, confronting Kokushibo in his final and most formidable form.

The battlefield was painted in both of your blood, and the air was thick with the scent of death. His demonic aura radiated with an overwhelming intensity as he embraced the full extent of his powers.

As Kokushibo ascended to his ultimate form, his eyes glowed with an eerie light, reflecting the depths of his bloodlust. His demonic blades piercing out of his body.

On the other side of the battlefield stood the lone demon slayer, Y/N, determined and unyielding. A fierce determination burned in your eyes.

The two of you locked eyes, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. Kokushibo's final form exuded a sense of absolute power, and yet, as he gazed upon you, a strange emotion flickered in his demonic eyes—almost a glimmer of recognition.

Without a word, Kokushibo surged forward, his breathing style slashing through the air with deadly precision. You could only dodge and parry. Each strike reverberated with the echoes of your swords echoing the struggle between the both of you.

As the battle raged on, Kokushibo's energy began to envelop you. You fought to resist the suffocating darkness, but it threatened to consume you. However, amidst the chaos, something unexpected happened. Kokushibo paused. His demonic eyes softened, and a strange sense of serenity washed over him. In that moment, he saw not just an adversary, but a reflection of the humanity he had lost. You where battered and bruised, representing the resilience of the human spirit.

Unexpectedly, Kokushibo lowered his blade, and a peculiar calm settled over the battlefield. The once-ruthless demon seemed to embrace a moment of introspection. You cautiously, lowered your weapon, sensing a shift in the tides.

"Human..." he began, his deep voice carrying a subtle gentleness. "I have fought countless battles, faced formidable foes, but in you... I find a fascination beyond comprehension." You where initially taken aback by Kokushibo's unexpected words, observed the sincerity in his eyes. The demon continued, "I have witnessed the strength in your spirit, and it has ignited a flame within me—a flame that I did not know existed. I wish to understand this feeling, to explore the depths of it with you by my side."

As Kokushibo spoke, the battlefield seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a surreal moment. You where caught between astonishment and curiosity, hesitating before responding. "Upper moon one, you are a demon, and I am a demon slayer. Our paths are destined to be at odds."

Kokushibo nodded, acknowledging the truth in your words. "Indeed, our fates may be intertwined in conflict, but does that mean we cannot explore the intricacies of this connection? I am willing to walk a different path, to understand the emotions that have awakened within me."

You didn't know what to say next, So he took the silence as a notion for him to keep going. '' My name is Kokushibo. What's your name?''

''Y/N''

''Y/N? Let me have you. End this fight and prove yourself to me''

The sudden shift in the air was hard to ignore, You limp over to him, covered in blood, his long tongue licks your face and his 'tentacles' wrap around your limbs, spreading your legs open.

''You wont need this.'' Your clothes was ripped to shreds with his sword, leaving you fully exposed to him. Kokushibo stood back a bit, admiring you, the moonlight made your skin glow, your pussy fully exposed with his tentacles holding you in place. Kokushibo kneels, a tentacle reach overs to your clit to play as his mouth comes nearer to your pussy. The teeth where very scary and you instincty tried to close your legs.

''I wont hurt you...'' He mumbles before sticking his tongue in your hole. You couldn't help but moan and move around trying to get more stimulation. The tentacle that was abusing your clit had spikes emerging from it. The danger off it all made you even more wet. A demon is fucking you. The sharp tentacles emerging from his body, his sharp teeth that could bite your head off, horns coming out of his head, his entire form being twice the size of yours. Your mind was going hazy and your climax was close. Kokushibo notices this and keeps the same rhythm but faster, the tentacle rubbing your clit and his tongue reaching all the way into your spot. 'f-ffuck stop i-im gonna-''

''cum'' He finished the sentenced and commanded you at the same time, your body tensed up and spasmed as you came all on his face and tongue, he kept licking your sex and the area around making you whimper from being overstimulated.

Kokushibo rises to his feet and positioned his dick to your entrance, '' You are ready for me... prove to me you can take it...'' His dick enters you and you squirm from the stretch, no human could have a dick like this, you could feel everything. ''Koku- please-more, I need it all''

''Say my name again''

''Koku- Kokushibo!'' He laughed deeply in your ear and thrusted all the way in, you felt like you was having an outer body experience. The tentacles was still holding you up in the air as he thrusted deeply in you. ''You are doing so well, I didn't think you could take me like this'' He keeps his head buried between your neck, feeling the drum of your pulse calling out to him,'' Let me bite you, mark you, taste what belongs to me'' You nod, dumb from his cock. He bites into you teeth and mandibles. The pain was unbearable but the pleasure made it feel good somehow. Kokushibo emerges from your neck and forces you to look at him. Your blood covered his mouth area.

He pulls your face to his and kisses you. At first you didn't know how to kiss him with the lack of lips, but you decided to lick your blood of his teeth and suck on his tongue. ''Demons cant get humans pregnant but we can still cum, will you let me cum in you?'' You nearly laugh at him for saying such gentle things even if what he was doing wasn't very polite. ''cum in me'' Kokushibo groans, if he was human, he'd put so many babies in you.

Kokushibo cums in you, the cum was warm surprisingly being that his whole body was cold. He pulls out but still keeps your legs open watching him spill out of you.

You pant and heave, your hand leaned back exposing the dried bloodied mess on your neck and he smirks at the view. He slowly leans you to the ground and covers you with his kimono.

''You did well, I trust you are okay?'' ''Y-yes im okay,'' you smile up to him, his form was back to normal nut he was shirtless and only then you realised he gave you his clothes to keep you covered.

''The sun is rising so I must leave, Here, Take this...''

A flute, the same flute he was playing earlier.

''If you are ever in danger or if you ever need me for... anything. Use this, I'll be with you straight away..'' He bows down and kisses your cheek, leaving you for now.

A/N: I honestly don't know how to write sex its so awkward... kinda cringe reading it back but I cant change it much more than I have already lol. I hope this was okay

[100jewels-between-teeth]

Ch. I

Word Count: 3637

Masterlist ¤ AO3 ¤ Ko-Fi

~ CW: Graphic depictions of violence

AN: I'm ferally excited to begin sharing this with everyone. The idea has been in my head for a long while and now I get to put it out there! Big big thank you to @enterthedreams for proofing and just being generally amazing.

If you wish to be updated for future chapters, let me know, and I'll add you to the tags! Now, enjoy!!

“Resignedly beneath the sky The melancholy waters lie. So blend the turrets and shadows there That all seem pendulous in air, While from a proud tower in the town Death looks gigantically down.” -”The City in the Sea” Edgar Allen Poe

Tendrils of smoke pooled from his mouth and nose, dancing around him. The next was a breath mixed with the midnight sea breeze, carried away towards the distant ships of the harbor. With the sounds of the old ships groaning at the docks, the occasional shout and laugh of the late night stragglers, it was almost as if the smoke had some kind of harmony to dance to. A fleeting one, as the next breeze whisked it away into the far unknown of the city. 

The Gate always seemed so different at night. 

If one were to excuse the robberies, murders, and other unsavory activities that seemed to thrive at this time, it was almost beautiful. But maybe, to him at least, that was part of the splendor of it all. The unclean, the unsavory, it all had its appeal, he supposed. He was like that once, and he was nothing if not charismatic.

The sound of metal on stone broke him out of his thoughts, heavy steps making their way towards him from one of the alleys. It was the scent that really tipped Enver off first: a suffocating mixture of rot and dust. With another pull from his pipe, he emptied the contents into the inky black void of ocean beneath him, watching the ash dissipate and sink. 

For a moment, he could see the bodies he had placed in that very same spot. Vacant eyes staring up at him as they sank below. Hundreds of unspoken curses, each one paving the path closer to his ambitions. 

“Honestly, you’d think one of your station would at least have the common decency to bathe” The lord turned up his nose as he finally faced Ketheric, his cane leisurely staying at his side. “At the very least, it wouldn’t kill you.” 

He only received a huff from the cloaked figure. The Man strode up beside him, taking a moment to take in the ocean air before he removed his hood. The silver of his hair and beard seemed to illuminate from the moonlight above. Out here, he almost seemed alive. 

Almost. 

“The last person I would think about taking any kind of advice from is you, upstart.” The timbre of his voice reverberated inside Enver’s chest. Even in monotone, that voice still commanded power. Authority. It made even Enver shiver. They stood together for another long pause of silence, the tension growing quite palpable. “This could have been much more efficient if we had this meeting at Moonrise, or even in your...fine abode, Gortash.” 

There was something about the way Ketheric spoke his name that just irritated Enver. Like he was talking down to some child, in lieu of the fastest growing political powers in this city. 

“Unfortunately, we are still in a position where we need to be concerned about the walls listening to us. Besides, anyone that passes by here will either be too drunk to understand what we are discussing, or will be dead before sunrise.” Gortash waved his hand dismissively to the general, twirling his cane just so he had something to do with his hands. 

Under normal circumstances, Enver usually was far more in control and composed with these kinds of situations. Yet the general just unsettled him to no end. Was it the aura of undead? The separation of age? Or did he just see the Lord of Bones in those dead, lifeless eyes?

Ketheric simply raised a brow, looking the other up and down.

“So tell me, old friend, how does this new lease on life that your gracious lord gifted you feel?” Enver straightened his back a little. If the General was going to inspect him, might as well give the old man a show. 

The general scoffed at the assumption of friendship, wanting nothing more than to take that irritating smirk off of the lord's face. 

“He sees I still have a vital part to play. My devotion to him will not sway. I am his  justice -” The speech was quickly cut off by the lord’s snickering beside him as he balanced himself on the cane. 

“Gods, and I thought I was the one with the potential for grandstanding.” The scowl on the old man's face elicited another snicker. “Truly, Ketheric. If this whole general business doesn't work out for you, I'm sure you'd have a wonderful time in the world of politics.” Gortash motioned to Thorm with a flourish. “The Baldurian's, at least, would love you.” 

“Unlike you, Gortash, I did not have to scheme my way into power.” 

“No, only betray your greatest values. A few times, if I’m not mistaken.” The way Ketheric tensed tipped Enver off that he was indeed on thin ice. 

“Do not worry though, I'm sure most of us have surely had our own moments of weakness. Besides, with recent potential investments, I'm sure most would look over your past mistakes.” 

“How reassuring.” Sarcasm dripped like rotted ichor from his mouth. “You have quite the amount of confidence for one that is relying on a lot of… potentials.” Ketheric looked out to the ocean again before his eyes went back to Gortash, much more serious. “I'm not here to play silly political games with you, Gortash, and I'm sure our predecessors would agree. Now why have you asked me here.” 

“We haven’t  been chosen on a whim, dear General.” It was Enver’s turn to change his tone. “To save you the speech, it is time for a centuries old pact be reignited. With recent events taking place, we now have the greatest chance we could be gifted for absolute domination… and it starts with what is below your home.” The look of befuddlement on Ketheric's face was enough to quell any remaining nervousness Gorthash had felt. 

“I've devised a plan-” 

The sound of gurgling took the words from his mouth, both staring back into the alley. The golden eye, illuminated by brilliant crimson steel, froze Gortash in his place. Even Ketheric stood straighter. Slowly, they saw the crimson blade make their way from the stranger’s throat to his groin, body spasming in its death throes. 

All the while, Gortash stared into those brilliant liquid gold eyes, the stare almost searing into his brain. The grotesque sound of the man's entrails slipping onto the wet stone below, followed by the body, could only make the General shake his head. 

Slow, wet steps came towards them as the moonlight illuminated her face. Gortash had only met her a handful of times, yet the sight still made his throat tighten.

Ketheric was the first to regain composure, clearing his throat. Those eyes went to the General before she removed her hood. Her hair was damp, black strands clinging to olive skin. 

“A pleasure… to finally meet Myrkul’s chosen.” The Bhaalspawn inspected Ketheric, the look in her eyes flickering between predatory and admiration. 

When those same eyes landed on Gortash, they quickly changed to annoyance. 

“Lovely to see you again, my dear.” It took everything within Enver to hide his indignation. 

Just seeing how she smirked at his feeble attempt to gain some kind of control filled him with a silent rage. Judging by how her smirk grew, he was not surprised if she could smell it on him. 

“Never expected one of your kind to be so…” Ketheric was almost at a loss for words, the woman seizing the bit.

“Eloquent? Civilized? Lucid?” The Bhaalspawn circled around the man like a vulture, the image almost making Gortash laugh. “Oh, don’t fret, you're exactly how I expected one chosen by Myrkul to be. Dead, covered in the dust of his former life.”

Now that made Enver laugh. The two looked at him as he did his best to cover it with a cough. 

The tension was palpable for a few moments, all three waiting for the other to make a move. The Bhaalspawn cleaned her blade on her cloak, staring back at the body wistfully before sheathing the blade. The look on Gortash’s face tipped her off that he was less than impressed with the spectacle. 

“What?” She grabbed the body from the alley, dragging it so it could slip off the pier into the water below. “I was doing you a favor.” The three just silently watched the horrified face sink below before Gortash cleared his throat. 

“Well, “Gortash said, clapping his hands, “since we are all introduced now, I feel it is time to speak of why we’re truly -” The woman was quick to step in front of Gortash, smirking as he stumbled on the words. 

“Yes, the plan that I came up with that you so graciously tried to take the credit for.” She sneered at the lord, gold eyes brimming with irritation. “But you might as well finish what you started.”

“I would if the interruptions would cease,” Enver hissed. 

Ketheric rolled his eyes at the immature display. With a shrug from the Bhaalspawn, Gortash continued. 

“As you’re both well aware, we have all been chosen for a purpose, and it seems that our lord's have decided it best that we all work towards the same goal. Just as in the past, we continue the Pact of the Dead Three.” There was little reaction from Gortash’s compatriots, steeling himself before continuing.

“After some... collaboration,” His eyes flicker to the woman, “It seems a perfect plan has been laid out before us. All that stops us is our willingness to work together and take it..” Enver raises his hand, clenching it into a fist. The others could not help but roll their eyes, waiting for him to get on with the rest. 

“General, it seems that you hold one of the key figures to this plan, right beneath the very stone of your home.” 

The gleam of joy in Enver’s eyes was undeniable as he watched the General go through the stages of confusion to disbelief. 

“To even entertain the thought of any of us somehow using, let alone convincing, an Elder Brain, not to mention the colony surrounding it to work with the Dead Three? I see that Bane has chosen a man on a suicide wish.” Ketheric shook his head, scoffing at the mere notion that the three of them stood a chance against such a creature. 

“Hear him out.” She nodded for Gortash to continue. The spawn stepping in to support Gortash was enough to make Ketheric pause in shock for a moment. “Trust me, it is worth the risk.” 

“Thank you.” Even Enver was a little surprised at her sudden change in behavior. Shrugging it off, he kept going. “I agree, Ketheric, it would be a foolish endeavor for us to even try convincing the creature. But, what if we had means to control it?” 

The lord’s trademark smirk grew wider, which in turn made the General’s frown deepen. “Unless you have suddenly become the greatest archwizard of all time, I highly doubt it. This is becoming a waste of time -”

“The Crown of Karsus.” The Bhaalspawn looked directly at Ketheric now, gold eyes alight. “We may not be able to convince it, but we can bring it to heel and make it obey us.” 

Restless, the spawn began pacing back and forth, her eyes still trained on the General at all times. 

“Tell me, child of Bhaal,”  Ketheric arched a brow, his stare condescending as the girl laughed,  “How is it you know of such an artifact? Is that common knowledge around your circles?”

“Honestly, do you think of me as an untrained rabid dog?” Venom dripped from her tone, Gortash noticing her fingers twitch for just a moment. “I do know my fair amount of history, thank you. My father made sure I was born with a proper brain.” 

He almost considered stopping her if she were to lunge at the other’s throat. 

Almost. 

“Anyways, the plan is relatively simple.” Enver took the lead in conversation again. “We get the crown, place it on the Elder Brain, and use it to create an army worth the names of our lords.” Ketheric was quick to wave his hand dismissively. 

“If it does actually exist, how do we expect to find it?” The smile on the spawn’s lips grew, rocking on her feet a little. 

“We already know where it is located. It seems that after the fall of Netheril, Mephistopheles himself claimed possession. Now it remains sealed in his vault in Cania.”

“And how did that information fall in your hands?” The General stood much straighter now, that dismissive look now shifted to one of trepid curiosity. 

“My father showed it to me.” The toe of her boot scuffed itself on the cobblestone as she looked down. “In a dream.” 

Gortash couldn't stop himself from pinching the bridge of his nose. The bark of laughter that escaped Ketheric made the two of them jump. It was not a sound they ever expected to hear from him, making it much more unsettling. 

“So, that’s what we’re basing this entire plan? Dreams?” He motioned between the two of them, eager for some kind of answer. 

“Oh? I would think you would be the last to turn your nose up at a divine gift from your lord.” She got closer to Ketheric, staring up at him with a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Or are you really that unappreciative? Does Myrkul know? I'm sure he would be quick to resurrect another’s decayed carcass to do his work.” 

The General swallowed the lump in his throat, eliciting a larger smile from the spawn. 

“Either way,” she went on, turning her back to Ketheric and pacing back closer to Gortash. “Bhaal has shown us exactly where to go. Now, all that is left is to get there and get the crown.” 

Shaking his head, Ketheric let out another chuckle, this entire plan reaching levels of absurdity. “So what you’re saying is that the three of us make our way to the eighth layer of the hells, and perform one of, if not the most, ridiculous heist of all time.” 

“Exactly.” Both Gortash and the spawn agreed at the same time, giving each other a put off look before making the space between them slightly larger. 

“There has to be more to this than what you're saying. This can’t be it. Say we actually manage to steal the crown, how do we even control the Elder Brain?” Ketheric’s voice was tense, eyes kept flashing between disbelievement and genuine curiosity, his head tilting to the side. 

“There seem to be three foci that resonate with the crown itself. Using these three stones, we can control whoever, or whatever wears the crown. Convenient, for us.” Gortash said, shrugging his shoulders. “With that control, we can use the illithids to infect others with the parasite. With enough infected, who is there to stop our masters?” 

Gortash felt the muscles tense in his throat at the word. The spawn could see him tense, quickly flitting her eyes away before she was noticed. 

“Besides,” she spoke, motioning towards Ketheric. “You will be staying here. There is a different plan for you in all this.” 

Ketheric was taken aback, confused at the possible implications. “Are you saying I am not capable of such a heist?”

“Well we certainly wouldn't want one of your age and accomplishment to be over exerting themselves now, would we?” The glares Gortash received not just from the General, but from the Spawn made him put his hands up in feigned surrender. “Easy now, merely a joke. But in all honesty, we find that there is much more important work for you to do up here.”

“Such as?” Ketheric raised his brow.

“Even with my followers, we do not have the proper numbers to stage an invasion on the illithid colony.” The girl tried her best to keep her tone strong. Ketheric noticed the uneasiness in her voice. “If we are to have a chance at getting the crown on that brain, we need a big enough army to pose a distraction. Keep its attention away from us. Which is where you come in.” She motioned to the general, taking a deep breath before she continued. 

“We need you to raise a number of undead. Canon fodder, to throw at those squids until we can secure the crown on its head. So, while the upstart and I are gone –” She could not help but smirk as he hissed a breath through his nose. “--you will be building this army. I will have my sister, Orin, bring some cultists to you at Moonrise to… procure necessary ingredients, let's say.” The unsure look in Ketheric’s eyes fed into her anxiety, but she had to have some faith. “Don't worry, I'll make sure she is kept on a proper leash for you.” 

“Not the only one who needs it…” Gortash mumbled under his breath. 

She did not look back to him, but he could see the Bhaalspawn tighten her hand into a white knuckled fist, blood slowly blooming from her nails. 

“And what is your way to actually get into Cania? Not exactly a short distance to travel for the two of you.” Ketheric questioned, his eyes darting between the two. 

Gortash was the one to speak before the spawn.

“That, General, is what I am just completing. An old contact of mine has the means to make a temporary portal between here, and Cania. With that supplies, once we reach the vault, we can easily teleport the crown straight to your door. No sense in lugging such a heavy thing back.”  

The spawn jumped in after. “We will travel to the eighth layer by the barge on the Styx. Both the upstart and I have been able to procure a fair amount of Soul Coins. I'm sure Charon wouldn't mind giving us the lift.” 

There was another long pause between the three Chosen. Each looked between each other for some kind of affirmation. It wasn't until they started hearing faint birdsong that they were snapped out of their contemplation, all three looking into the horizon, now starting to show signs of morning bleeding in. 

“I will not go against the plan set in motion by our masters.” Ketheric’s voice was tense, yet firm. “If this is what we must do to see their grand design come to fruition, who are we to object?” 

Adjusting his cloak, he covered his head with the hood, readying his departure. 

“Wonderful!” Gortash clapped his hands together, his face positively radiating with cheer. “My business with this colleague shouldn't take too long, so I would expect us to see each other again within the week, at your humble abode.” Enver motioned to Ketheric  “We will bring those cultists in tow, best to get an early start on that army.”

Giving Gortash the slightest nod of the head, Ketheric turned his attention to the Bhaalspawn, her face calm. 

“Praise be the Dead Three,” she said quietly, bowing her head as Kethric turned on his heel, disappearing into the shadows. 

“Well, as enjoyable as your company is, I am a busy man with many things -” Enver was cut off by a crimson blade, the tip poking into his throat. 

“I am surprised, upstart, that you would take credit for this plan so quickly.” Her golden eyes burned with curiosity as she looked him up and down. The spawn stepped closer, forcing Gortash to put his back to the wall. “Interesting that you would omit how it was me who brought this to you.”

Her eyes narrowed as a small smile grew on her lips. Enver tried to mirror the expression, yet his own wavered in nervousness. 

“As the one who perfected the plot, I felt it was only right.” He knew he was treading on thin ice, the woman easily able to end him here and now. 

But both knew, there would be no other replacement capable of fulfilling this heist. Taking another step closer, the spawns face was mere inches from Enver’s, their breaths mixing. He was surprised how hers faintly smelt of mint. 

“Well, it is a good thing I am understanding. The credit is yours.” Her voice was menacingly quiet. “Now, if the plan fails spectacularly… our Three Lords know exactly who to direct their disappointment and rage at.” With a slight flick, the blade tip was removed from his throat, not without making the slightest incision on his adams apple. The woman’s eyes flickered to the blood beginning to bloom. “By the way…” 

Her hand reached out towards their right, her hand twisting and emanating a red glow. From the shadows, another figure slowly walked out, their eyes glowing the same hue that resonated around the spawn’s hand. Gortash quickly made out the emblem of the Guild on his chest, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

“Your throat, cut it to the bone.” The spawn hissed to the spy. 

The spy slowly took out their dagger, and after a brief pause, began cutting into their throat. Like a saw, the man cut left and right, blood pouring to the stone as their jugular was brutally torn apart. The smile never left the girl's face as, after another few seconds, the body collapsed before them, knife stuck in the guild member’s throat. 

“That is yet another favour. Be careful, lordling. Would hate Arden to not be around for your death.” Turning away, the woman stepped on the body, eliciting another hiss of blood to spurt towards Enver as he watched her walk into the shadows, quickly disappearing. 

It was when she was out of sight that Gortash realized two things: First, his heart was pounding in his chest, ears filled with each throbbing pulse. 

 The second: His lungs shrieked for air that had been denied them since the moment she nicked him.

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Tags: @theannoyingurge @enterthedreams @rivthewriter

[gayhoediaz]

aura got him howling

or 6.16 gave us eddie putting on deodorant and i decided that buck is nasty (affectionate.)

789 words | M

"Is this a kink we should talk about at some point?"

The vibrations of Eddie's voice rumbles, deep and soothing so close to Buck's ear. Buck merely hums in question, somewhat absentmindedly, far too busy painting a flush, rose-colored bruise into the side of Eddie's peck, allowing himself a deep inhale of the deep musk as the thick armpit hair tickles his nose.

"You, always making out with my armpit sweat," Eddie clarifies, shrugging his shoulder - but there's so much warmth - so much love, admiration - awe - in the supposed tease that it's barely worthy of the word in the first place.

Until this moment, Buck hadn't actually realized that this may be a habit he has - but he doesn't think he could find it within himself to be embarrassed, even without the thick, ridiculously sweet afterglow dancing through his veins, wrapping them up like a thick, soft blanket. Not when Eddie sounds so... entranced. In love.

Rather, he steals another deep inhale, allowing the thick scent - stench, realistically - to sting his nose; and it does. It's strong, and it stings, and it shouldn't be good - but it's Eddie; it smells like Eddie, and Buck on Eddie, and their desperation for each other - and fuck, he steals another breath, his teeth teasingly grazing the skin of the fresh mark as he works his mouth even further up - gradually blinking his eyes open as he does so, his gaze immediately falling upon Eddie's.

There's no way to describe this feeling - the feeling he gets when Eddie looks at him like this. Bathed in the dim light of the light on their nightstand. All big, and strong, and sweaty - but equally as soft; his eyes bright, smile cheesy - a barely present double chin making itself known, only from the angle at which he's craning his neck to look down at Buck. Fuck, he's everything.

Buck lets his mouth fall open, eyes glued to Eddie's as he attaches a deep, filthy kiss right into the fold, the hair rough against his tongue, sweat salty and bitter - overpowering. Sweet, at the same time.

Eddie chuckles - giggles, actually, though the sound is hoarse from the hour or so of intense moaning - as he wriggles away from Buck's mouth. Buck laughs against the skin, but only lets his mouth chase him for a second before he takes pity on the ticklish man beneath him, and their combined laughter fades into happy sighs.

Buck picks himself up and folds his lower arm, supporting his temple in the surface of his palm, granting himself the ability to look down at Eddie as he lets his other hand cradle the side of his face. Eddie hums comfortably, eyes still stuck on Buck's, filled with nothing but pure love as he gently grasps his wrist, the pad of his thumb moving back and forth over the back of Buck's hand as he nuzzles his cheek into his large palm. Buck revels in the slight scratch of his second-day facial hair.

"Maybe I like your armpit sweat," Buck comments finally - and it's meant to be a joke - and it is. There's something else to it as well, though - something he doesn't realize until he watches Eddie's face as he processes the words. Something about craving even the most foul parts of each other.

Eddie takes a deep breath, his previous grin fading into a close mouthed smile - so fond Buck thinks he feels his heart break and then heal back together with scars of gold. Better than before.

"Disgusting," Eddie whispers, softly.

Gently - so gently that Buck doesn't even realize what he's doing at first - Eddie starts to ease Buck's hand away from his face - and then out towards the currently unoccupied side of their bed.

In fact, Buck doesn't realize what he's doing until he tugs, and Buck collapses on top of him, Eddie's arm immediately wrapping around his upper back, locking him in place as he tucks his nose deep into his armpit as revenge.

"Ow - Eddie, tick - I changed my mind, I changed my mind-" Buck laughs, hysterically trying to maneuver himself away. Eddie laughs right back - Buck feels it rumble through his body, tickling him further, feels his cheeks pull up against his inner bicep as he grins, tugging Buck tighter against him.

When they finally do give up - when they slide their tongues over each other, and relax into the gentle, everlasting peace they have found with each other - maybe it's a kink, or maybe it's love - or maybe it's both - regardless, they absolutely crave the overpowering, salty taste on each other's tongues.

Because regardless of how deep, or foul, or seemingly unpleasant - there is not a single part of each other that they don't yearn for.

[pluviophi13]

Serendipitous Affection

Masterlist

"Serendipitous affection" refers to a romantic or emotional connection that occurs unexpectedly or by chance. It describes the feeling of developing deep affection or love for someone in an unplanned or unforeseen manner. The term "serendipitous" refers to the occurrence of fortunate or pleasant events by chance or accident. In the context of affection, it suggests that the affectionate feelings arose unexpectedly, without any deliberate intention or pursuit. It can be seen as a delightful surprise or an unexpected twist of fate that leads to the development of affection or love.

Word Count: 865

The sun had just begun its descent, casting a warm golden glow over the kingdom of Camelot. As the day's work drew to a close, you found yourself wandering the bustling streets, a sense of restlessness tugging at your heart.

Lost in thought, you barely noticed the familiar voice that called out your name. "Y/N! Wait up!"

You turned and smiled as Gwen caught up with you. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed from the day's activities.

"Gwen! What a pleasant surprise," you greeted her warmly.

She grinned and fell into step beside you. "I was just heading home, but I thought I'd see if you wanted to join me for a stroll."

The invitation warmed your heart, and you nodded eagerly. "I would love that."

As the two of you meandered through the streets, conversation flowed effortlessly. You shared stories, laughter and dreams, finding solace in each other's company. Gwen's presence was like a comforting hug, and you cherished the moments you spent together.

The sky had turned into a fiery canvas, the setting sun casting its last rays over the city. Gwen led you to a small, secluded garden hidden behind the castle walls. It was a sanctuary of blooming flowers, their scent filling the air with a sweet perfume.

You sat down on a stone bench, the tranquil atmosphere enveloping you like a warm blanket. The silence between you felt comfortable, a testament to the deep connection you had formed.

Gwen's voice broke the stillness, soft and melodic. "Y/N, I wanted to tell you something... something I've been meaning to say for a while now."

Curiosity tinged with anticipation welled up within you. "What is it, Gwen?"

Her gaze met yours, her eyes shining with sincerity. "Y/N, I... I've come to realise that my feelings for you go beyond friendship. You've become such an important part of my life, and I can't help but imagine a future where we're more than just friends.”

A wave of emotion washed over you as the realisation of Gwen's confession washed over your heart. The love that had blossomed within her had mirrored the feelings growing within your own soul.

"Gwen, I feel the same way," you admitted, your voice filled with tenderness. "You've brought so much joy and light into my life. Being with you feels like coming home."

Tears of joy welled up in Gwen's eyes as a beaming smile graced her lips. Without hesitation, she reached out, her hand finding yours. It was a simple gesture, yet it carried the weight of unspoken promises and a newfound bond.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the world was bathed in twilight, Gwen's presence became a beacon in the darkness. The world around you faded into insignificance as you focused on the one person who had captured your heart.

Leaning closer, Gwen's lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was a declaration of love, a celebration of the deep connection you had discovered in each other. In that moment, the world seemed to stand still, holding its breath as fate wove its tapestry.

When the kiss broke, you both remained seated, basking in the afterglow of a new-found romance. The garden was now bathed in moonlight, its silvery glow casting a magical aura around you.

As the night sky twinkled with stars, you realised that this was only the beginning. The road ahead was unknown, but with Gwen by your side, you felt a sense of unyielding strength and hope.

Hand in hand, you rose from the bench, ready to face the challenges and adventures that awaited you. Together, you would navigate the complexities of love and forge a bond that would stand the test of time.

In that enchanted garden, beneath the watchful gaze of the moon, you and Gwen embarked on a journey of love, embracing the serendipitous affection that had blossomed between you.

And as the night embraced you, you knew deep within your heart that this love was destined to endure, forever entwined in the tapestry of Camelot's legends.

“A sky full of stars and he was staring at her” — Atticus

[hero2222-nsfw]

Open Starter- Spice of life~

In a hidden grove deep within the mystical garden, illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the trees, Valentine's Day unfolds with an aura of enchantment Malach, with his towering frame and gentle demeanor, finds himself drawn to the tranquil beauty of the secluded spot.

His heart pounds with anticipation as he wanders through the grove, the air thick with the scent of magic and the promise of forbidden delights. Despite his usual optimism, there's a fire burning within him tonight—a hunger for something more, something passionate and intoxicating.

As he rounds a bend in the path, Malach's breath catches in his throat at the sight of a figure standing beneath a blooming cherry blossom tree, their silhouette bathed in the silvery moonlight. His pulse quickens, captivated by the stranger's allure.

"Hello there," Malach murmurs, his voice husky with desire as he approaches, his eyes ablaze with longing. "What brings you to this enchanting grove on such a magical night?"

The stranger meets Malach's gaze with a smoldering intensity, their eyes locking in a silent exchange of longing and desire. Without a word, they step closer, their bodies inches apart, breath mingling in the cool night air.

The tension crackles like electricity, filling the air with anticipation as they stand there, lost in the intoxicating spell of the moment. And as they gaze into each other's eyes, Malach feels a surge of excitement coursing through his veins, knowing that anything is possible on this enchanted Valentine's Day night in the mystical garden.

[yashvitours]

Uttarakhand: A Tapestry Woven with Spirit and Adventure

Uttarakhand, nestled in the mighty embrace of the Himalayas, whispers an irresistible invitation. It’s a land where snow-capped peaks kiss the heavens, rivers carve emerald valleys like veins on verdant skin, and spirituality dances a vibrant tango with adventure.

For souls yearning for rejuvenation, Uttarakhand promises an odyssey unlike any other. Whether you seek solace in ancient temples, where chants echo through timeworn stones, or adrenaline-pumping thrills that leave your heart pounding like a Himalayan drum, this Himalayan haven has your heart’s rhythm tattooed on its map. So, pack your bags, lace your boots, and prepare to embark on a journey with our uttarakhand tour packages that will leave you spellbound, whispering, “Uttarakhand, I must explore you once again!”

Char Dhams – Where Faith Flows Like the Ganges

Uttarakhand’s spiritual aura precedes it. Here, the land cradles the sacred Char Dhams, revered as the abodes of celestial beings. Gangotri, Yamunotri, Kedarnath, and Badrinath – their names echo through the ages, whispering promises of liberation. A pilgrimage isn’t just a journey; it’s a transformative bath, washing away the dust of the mundane and granting a glimpse of the divine.

Imagine dipping in the holy Ganges at Har-Ki-Pauri, the gateway to the Char Dhams. Feel the cool water caress your skin, a baptism in the heart of ancient faith. Witness the grand Kumbh Mela, a spectacle of humanity pulsating with devotion, or wander vibrant markets, soaking in the intoxicating scent of incense and whispered prayers.

The Valley of Flowers – Where Blooms Sing a Symphony

Close your eyes and imagine a carpet woven with nature’s finest blooms. A riot of colors, a kaleidoscope of life erupting from verdant meadows – welcome to the Valley of Flowers. Every summer, this alpine paradise transforms into a symphony of vibrant hues, a siren call to trekkers and nature lovers.

Embark on a rejuvenating trek, breathe in the crisp mountain air, and let the breathtaking beauty wash over you. Spot rare Himalayan flora like the cobra lily and edelweiss, each bloom a testament to nature’s artistry. Capture the essence of this wonderland in your memories, a silent promise to return to its embrace.

Rishikesh – Yoga Capital of the World

For those seeking spiritual enlightenment, Rishikesh, the Yoga capital of the world, is your haven. Nestled on the banks of the holy Ganges, Rishikesh pulsates with an energy that’s both calming and invigorating. Immerse yourself in yoga and meditation under the tutelage of revered gurus, or simply soak in the tranquil atmosphere as you witness the evening Ganga Aarti, a mesmerizing fire ritual that paints the river with dancing flames.

Let the sound of flowing water and chanting mantras lull you into a state of deep relaxation. Discover the ancient wisdom of yoga, a path to inner peace amidst the serenity of Rishikesh. Find yourself, not in the echoes of the mountains, but in the quietude within.

Haridwar, Where Faith Flows Like the Ganges

Haridwar, another holy town on the Ganges, is the gateway to the Char Dhams. Its ghats teeming with pilgrims and priests, and the aroma of incense filling the air, create an atmosphere of devout fervor. Take a dip in the sacred Har-Ki-Pauri, a baptism in the heart of faith. Witness the grand Kumbh Mela, or simply wander through the vibrant markets, soaking in the spiritual essence.

Jim Corbett National Park, Where Thrills Roar

But Uttarakhand is more than just temples and tranquility. For the adventurer within, it offers a playground of untamed wilderness. Jim Corbett National Park, India’s first national park, is a refuge for diverse wildlife, including the majestic Royal Bengal Tiger. Embark on an exhilarating jeep safari, or go bird watching amidst the dense foliage, and lose yourself in the primal rhythm of the jungle.

Other Adventures

Ski down snow-clad slopes in Auli, the “Switzerland of India,” and experience the thrill of winter sports amidst breathtaking Himalayan vistas.

Conquer the rapids of the Ganges on a white water rafting adventure, feeling the adrenaline surge as you navigate the roaring currents.

Soar through the skies on a paragliding adventure in Rishikesh, witnessing panoramic views of the valley below.

Explore the quaint hill stations of Nainital and Mussoorie, where colonial charm meets breathtaking scenery. Boat on Naini Lake, hike to Tiffin Top in Mussoorie, or simply soak in the cool mountain air.

Conclusion

As you embark on your Uttarakhand adventure, Yashvi Tours and Travels will be your trusted companion. We’ll be your confidante, your guide, and your partner in crafting memories etched in eternity.

So, dear traveler, what are you waiting for? The mountains whisper, the rivers sing, and the valleys beckon. Come, explore Uttarakhand, where every step unveils a wonder, and every experience paints a masterpiece on the soul’s canvas.

Book your Uttarakhand adventure with Yashvi Tours and Travels today, and let the magic begin!

Remember, Uttarakhand is not just a destination; it’s a feeling.

Article Source : https://www.yashvitours.com/uttarakhand-a-tapestry-woven-with-spirit-and-adventure/

[slasherberry-shortcake]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･You Mean The World⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ (RZ Michael x GN! Reader)

Hi all :]

This is the first fic that I'm uploading on Tumblr! It's kind of self-indulgent, as I personally absolutely love RZ Michael, but y'know, I'm also doing it for you guys! Let's get into it, loves~ (written in 2nd person)

NOT PROOFREAD AND FEM DNI PLEASE

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

It was a cold night, one that you hadn't felt in a while. You stayed cozy in your home, your large boyfriend curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace. You'd attempted to cover the man with a blanket earlier, but to no avail, as the fabric ended up slipping off of his body. You felt his comfortable aura warm you, your gleaming eyes staring softly at the one whom you loved. You longed to run to him where he lay, kiss all over to wake him up. To spend time with him, the time you so desperately craved. Your love was pure, and you felt so complete just staring at him. His chest rose and fell, the deep sound of his sleeping breath lulling you deeper into the sense of love you knew so well. Hesitantly, you stood, silently sweeping to the armrest of the couch, falling gently to your knees to play with the man's tangled and curled hair. As you lay your delicate fingers within his locks, he stirs, a deep exhale snapping you back to your senses, ripping you back from the rose-colored world you found yourself lost in, again and again. He tilted his head upwards to gaze at you, him being slightly annoyed by the rude interruption of his slumber.

You lifted yourself from the floor, laying a gentle and sweet kiss on his sweaty forehead, "Good morning, beautiful. How are you feeling?" He grunted gruffly in response, watching groggily as you wiped the salt from your lips.

"You're dirty," you whispered, watching the sweat that dripped down his throat turn a muddy brown from the dirt that clung to his skin, "You should shower, I can help."

These offers were common, your love inspiring you to tend to the needs of your lover, wanting to keep him in the perfect condition for when he rests at home. Sure, dirt covers the scent of a clean soap here and there, but this wasn't a hunt. This was your quality time, the time you loved to keep him all to yourself. You often request to bathe him, as you love watching the way the steam relaxes the tall man, the way his tension and high walls crumble down to your soft touch.

He glanced at you, a playfully offended look hidden in his eye. He knew what you had meant by the comment, but he liked to tease you. He liked watching you squirm, watching you scramble and gulp. He did it out of love, of course, he could never actually be offended or hurt by you. You both cared for each other too much for that to happen. HE sat up, his sitting figure even towering over you. He nodded and stood, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the bathroom.

You helped him undress and sink into the steaming bath water, your eyes drifting to his pectorals. You never used this as an excuse to peek at his body, well...not usually, but today was different. You wanted to soak in his features, feel the warmth in your cheeks grow as his large hands brace himself on the edges of the tub, a deep and low growl exiting his chapped lips. You blushed slightly, planning to excuse it as the steam if Michael questioned it. You smiled and got the body wash, saying in a soft tone, "Ready, Mikey?"

The man nodded, watching you lather the loofa that you had bought specially for him. Your hands moved sluggishly, twitching as you reached his chest. He exhaled at your touch, his form slumping in pleasure. You worked his chest with the soap, fingers helping to scrub at the man's fuzzy chest. Your nails created a lovely friction upon his skin, causing another exhale and more slumping. You were better than he remembered.

After finishing his body, you moved to his hair, scratching his scalp lovingly as you shampooed his dirty blonde hair. His body was as submerged as possible for a man of his stature, his head almost lulling into the now soapy and dirty water. He breathed in and out, his chest shaking with every pleasurable scratch you gave to the soft skin of his scalp. You rinsed the bubbles away, squeezing out the water from his hair. You stood from your position, waiting for him to stand and exit the tub. You held your hand out, giving him something to grasp though you didn't help him all that much (he certainly appreciated it regardless). He stepped onto the bath mat, a habit you wish he would not be used to. You always asked him to dry himself first, but he always seemed to forget. You held up the towel to him, kissing the hand that gently stole the cloth away from your grasp. He dried himself off on the bath mat, water splashing onto the tiled flooring, causing you to giggle softly.

After Michael was dry, you handed him the pajamas you'd picked to give him, the soft fabric guaranteed to keep him warm tonight. "Was that a good bath, angel?" you asked him, your eyes half-lidded as he dressed himself. He glanced at you, nodding his head slowly. You knew he was sincere with the slower nods he gave, and the low grunts and groans he'd slip in from time to time. It was adorable that you memorized his tells, it made you feel proud of yourself and your ability to read the man like a book.

After he dressed, you grabbed his hand, practically dragging him back out to the couch in front of the stone hearth. You snuggled into his side, inhaling the sweet scent of the soap that clung to his now-cleansed body. His big arm draped around your smaller shoulders, a soft kiss placed on your scalp soon afterward. The sweet aroma and the warmth of his body and the fire lulling you to sleep.

"I love you, Michael," you whispered, falling asleep nestled into his side, "I love you. so much."

[worshipbeginsontheknees]

Thots and prayers for the day:

Be me, in a church. The weight of my many sins consumes my very being. He sees me from afar. My blasphemy radiates from my body like a painful aura, brighter than any light the winged beings of his heavens could summon forth. I am beautiful. I am cursed. I am broken. He believes he can save my mortal soul.

I go to the confessional. The grain of the wood feels like home as I sit. The thick scent of anointing oils permeate my senses. Even the screen that separates us now as he enters, echoes with the judgment to come, though not spoken.

I am his child. I am broken. I hurt in my bones. I do not deserve his forgiveness. He feels my suffering, knows this may be the first, but likely not the last time I will come here. But the sorrow, I wear bereavement like arousal and he feels that stirring beneath the cloth cage of his cossack. He should send me away, cast my penance like dice from his hands and let them fall where they may. To walk away.

But he holds those unseen instruments of fate in his mind as he moves to beckon me to join him. To be seen and understood. To push past that threshold into his personal space. An interloper. A temptation against the temple of his body. An affront to the guardianship of his being. He feels that melancholy note that hovers between us and he wants to cradle it, nurture it. How he mourns the joy he has never seen upon my face.

How he longs to see it.

Shaking breaths are deafening, the tremor of how wrong this is warbles through the air. Forbidden and necessary.

"Come to me, my child. Come to me. Let me see your eyes."

We stare at each other in stasis. Perhaps this is enough. It can be enough. It can sate the longing that crawls through the broken glass of blood in our veins. He tells me to show him where it hurts.

"Everywhere. Everywhere."

He knows God by name. He speaks with angels freely. But never has he felt moved by an act of mortality such as this. There are no more deities, only this. Only the need to serve. To fix the broken parts. I came to pray. To beg him.

Tell me why he is now on his knees, clinging to my body. Tell me why he begs for sacrament and to taste my grief on his tongue. Explain the reverence with which he parts my thighs and buries himself there. How does the warmth of his breath against the entry of my own temple seem to be the only way salvation will find me?

He speaks psalms against the places he should not be, wraps his tongue like a rosary around that bundle of nerves that sings hymns when he calls. He can fix me. He can fix me.

Ardent in his prayers, his hands grip the altar of my thighs to part them further and cast my demons out. I am to crumble against the divine, I will fall anew. He begs me to be unburdened, to baptize him in the waters of my suffering and become clean.

There, I break. I am broken. I am broken.

I just want to be clean again. I just want to be clean again. But I pour my sins upon his mouth and soon he will ascend, rise like the sun itself before setting against the skyline of my welcoming arms. Soon he sinks in those hidden depths and bathes in my longing. Drowns in those waters, trying to save me. As the light consumes him with fervor, he weeps in awe of this ethereal moment.

He came to save. He left enrobed in my blessings, already counting down the moments he can prove his devotion again.

[merakiui]

A Leaf Swept up in an Autumnal Breeze

yandere!kaedehara kazuha x (gender neutral) reader art credit - Tourou_7 on twt cw: yandere, unhealthy/obsessive behaviors, slight nsfw implications/thoughts, alcohol consumption, intoxication, spoilers for kazuha’s character story + inazuma lore note - i decided to write something short for kazuha as i analyze what we know so far of his character. hopefully the characterization isn’t too off! please enjoy nonetheless! orz

The moonlight casts its thin rays upon the calm, motionless sea. In the distance, fish surface and their movements are captured in the ripples that expand in the water, a minor blip in the otherwise tranquil atmosphere of the dark night. As if a god has taken a brush to the sky, utilizing its inky vastness as a canvas, the stars have been drawn in small specks—winking down at those who sleep underneath a blanket of natural light.

And you are caught up in the glorious shimmer, grinning widely as Beidou wraps her arm around you, pulling you against her as if the two of you have known each other for years. In reality, it’s only been a few months since you were discovered on her ship: a hidden stowaway with your Vision clutched in your hands and raw resolve etched into your body in the form of bruises and old scars. You’re a fighter and yet you also ran from something. Kazuha can’t quite tell what it is you’ve escaped. Whether it’s another person, a group of people, or even an entire nation, he’s certain it’s worthy of the risks that come with fleeing.

Your Vision shines brightly, a stark contrast to the dark color scheme of your clothes. He tries to place a nation to your outfit and comes up empty, his thoughts returning to Inazuma as though it’s the only place he can think of. And he supposes that’s true. The situation in Inazuma has clouded his mind with its strange fog, taking up residence in the nooks and crannies of his brain. Though he can dwell upon the past and the mistakes that led up to the downfall of a precious friend, he knows there is no use for such somber reflections during a happy celebration. Life moves on, as the common saying goes, and he cannot allow himself to remain trapped in the past.

During moments such as these, where he relives the horrible memory in vivid detail, you are a sweet balm that soothes the sting of loss. Even when you’re struggling to stand, face hot from the intoxication of good drinks in even better company, you’re a wondrous presence who chases away his doubts and worries.

Unknowingly, you cast a temporary shroud over those matters and he’s put at ease the minute you extend your arm in his direction.

“Kazuha! Come over here. Let’s dance!”

A hiccup interrupts your jovial giggle and Beidou chuckles before throwing her head back to drink what’s left in her flask. The aura of her ship is beyond lively. Men and women alike celebrate another successful week with drinks, harrowing tales of past heroes, and broken ballads sang in drunken tones. He can’t help the smile that sprouts on his lips. You’re such an outgoing person, always wanting to include him in your daily activities. And though he politely declines whenever you offer him alcohol, he has wondered what the appeal could possibly be.

Perhaps it’s the idea of losing your sensibility for one night, ignoring all reason for the sake of spending pleasurable moments in the confines of a warm bed, wrapped snugly in a lover’s embrace. Such instances are lost to intoxicating pleasure—buried under a hazy recollection come morning. But you haven’t done that sort of thing. Kazuha would know. He listens in while you’re relaxing—while you’re bathing and going about life on the ship without a care in the world—and his head runs wild with all sorts of fantasies. Fantasies he never would have imagined had he not met you.

To think you were just a mere stowaway, a trespasser who had snuck onto the ship and hid in the darkest corner, obscured by crates and chests. And he had pulled those crates aside in search of a few ingredients and his eyes met yours and you held your finger to your lips—a silent urge to keep quiet—and his heart skipped a beat.

It was a special meeting between two, which will remain locked away in his heart for all of eternity. A memory he regards with warm fondness. After much negotiation and a disarming conversation, you were soon welcomed with open arms as Beidou practically offered you to join her crew. You had nowhere else to go—no one else to see or protect—and so you agreed. And Kazuha felt a relief he hasn’t felt in a while, the sort of emotion that stems from almost losing something important.

The pure relief that comes and goes once he realizes you’re a missing piece in the puzzle of his life.

“You’ll trip,” he warns, pushing off from the side of the ship and walking over to you and Beidou. “It wouldn’t be wise to dance in your inebriated state. Surely you’re aware of this, no?”

“I can hold my alcohol.” Your wavering glare doesn’t reach him. “Don’t... Don’t think otherwise or else I’ll—ah!”

The majority of Beidou’s weight burdens your shoulders and you nearly almost crumble.

“You—“ she searches for a means to steady herself— “worry too much,” the captain adds, nodding in agreement to an unspoken statement. “It’ll be okay! Live a little while you’re still young.”

Kazuha sighs and easily slips between the two of you, hooking his arm around Beidou’s waist as he guides her to a barrel. The scent of alcohol kisses the air, clinging to your clothes and breath like an oversaturated perfume. Once she’s sat down, now fully determined to get the last few drops from out of the flask, the rōnin turns to you. He’s caught by surprise when your hands grasp his, your eager expression stabbing his heart with a dozen pins. He’s rooted to the floorboards, unable to look away when your face is dangerously close to his.

“You heard the captain,” you tease in a slurred voice. “Live a little.”

And he does. Or he thinks he does. Having traveled with Beidou, this is the current life he’s come to know and appreciate. But is it truly living if he feels unfulfilled in the process? To find a means for bringing back the familiar glow in a lonely Vision. To secure peace of mind and put his rowdy thoughts to rest. To one day return to the nation he was forced to flee, with you in tow. Are all of these things necessary in order to fill the gaping void in his damaged heart? Kazuha wonders if you also came from Inazuma. Perhaps you wouldn’t be so surprised to see the scenery if he were to take you there. Not now, of course. Sometime in the future, if such a future holds a changed Inazuma.

“I’m going to warn you now,” he mumbles, his fingers ghosting over your waist, “I’m not what one would call a dancer of skillful grace.”

“I don’t think that’s true, dear Kazuha.”

He blinks once and then releases a short laugh at the endearing term. “If you say so.”

“Enough talk.” You huff and pull him into your chest and he feels as though he could stay locked in this position for millennia. “Dance with me before...” A stilted pause as you nearly forget your sentence. “Before I turn in for the night. That’s it.”

Or before you get sick, he thinks, not so cheerful about the inevitable mess. But he’ll tolerate it because you’ve tolerated him. You never pry into his past, nor do you force him to answer personal questions regarding Inazuma and the Raiden Shogun. If you ever notice the way he lingers near your quarters, you don’t say a word. And if you hear his subdued moans as his hand moves in time with a picturesque fantasy of your nude form pressed against his, you keep your mouth shut. You are everything he could ever want and like the very ideal the Raiden Shogun wishes to uphold he wants to pursue an eternity with you.

Your movements are far from the precision you normally have when moving about the ship and it’s a very odd dance. Yet you spin him and he follows your unusual lead like an animal with tunnel vision. For a taut moment, the background noise melts away into obscurity and the two of you are the only people in existence. He stares at your face the entire time, ignoring the way your sandals crush his feet or the instances where he unintentionally returns the gesture. It’s certainly an awkward sort of waltz, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And in this moment where no one else matters, he sees your radiance in the glow of the moon. You truly are worthy of the sun and the stars beyond and should you verbalize an outlandish wish of that nature he has no choice but to follow through.

Like a leaf swept up in an autumnal breeze, reminiscent of a ronin who lacks a place in the world, Kazuha allows himself to be carried on by the winds that rustle the sails and tangle through your hair, painting you in a backdrop that’s heaven handcrafted by the pickiest god. And where you have your wits, a lively Vision, and your confidence, he only has his blade, a dull Vision, and an inkling of hope. But that’s really all he requires.

[dreamcatcherrs]

what catches their eyes/attracts them?; mcyt x reader

+ this is in no way factual information, only my very weird and specific opinions :)

dream:

free-spirited people

someone who isn't afraid to speak their mind

confidence, to a certain extent

someone he can be loud with

someone who will wake up in the middle of the night with him to go on a car drive to nowhere

the colour blue (dnf👀)

clean and fresh-looking clothes

satin fabric

big height difference

the smell of citrus fruits

large smiles

silver jewellery

small hands

smart people who aren't afraid to show it

george:

calm, laid back people

someone quiet, but still able to have a laugh

very friendly vibes - even when first meeting them

the colour blue (literally the only interesting colour he's able to see lol)

bright eyes

lip gloss

flower print

slightly shy people who are actually easy to interact with once you start a conversation with them

pastel-coloured nails, not too long

pink-tinted lips

ponytails

the smell of vanilla

puppy eyes

sapnap:

energetic people

someone who can hype up their friends no matter the situation

the colour red

like, a bloody red

soft skin

full lips

loose shirts over skin-tight tops

when shoelaces have a different colour on each shoe

corsets

a very subtle scent of perfume

thigh highs

someone who just wants to enjoy life with the people they're surrounded by

badboyhalo:

large, bright smiles that spread up to your eyes

freckles

button noses

rose-gold jewellery

french manicures

bangs

slightly shy people

genuinely sweet people

not the fake type that talks shit about people behind their backs and then will compliment them a few seconds after

someone who when they enter a room feels like a breath of fresh air to everyone else

someone completely selfless

the smell of lavender

shiny hair

technoblade:

people who aren't afraid to take the lead

glasses

intellectual people

like, for example people who know a lot of random stuff from a bunch of different things that they're interested in

or also just book smart people

slightly clumsy people (finds it cute)

gold jewellery

someone with some mystery to them

refreshing scents, like clean laundry or shampoo

cat eyes (eyeliner)

wilbur soot:

long legs

chokers

shy people

someone who gets flustered easily

glasses + thin bangs

the colours brown and beige together

baggy, comfy clothes

the smell of newly baked cookies

beanies

the kind of person that makes him feel like he can always talk to them - someone he can feel safe with

birth marks

accents

jschlatt:

smart people

the way they speak is just so clean without even noticing

fox eyes

people who aren't afraid to wear sweatpants in public

generally just someone who isn't afraid to do, say and wear whatever they want

someone who stands for what they think and have the balls to say it when needed

nose rings

simple yet flattering pieces of jewellery

long nails

someone who he can stay up all night with and never get tired of them

high heels

hip dips

corpse husband:

fishnets, of course

someone who give 0 fucks about what everyone else thinks of them

unique people

wether that be physical features or straight up the personality, it draws him in

chokers

chunky, black sneakers or boots

someone who can make him happy without even trying

a positive aura for the most part

as in he doesn't want to be surrounded by someone who’s negative or dragging everyone else down with them

the colour yellow

rings - lots of them

karl jacobs:

a walking ray of sunshine, basically

tbh, karl has a couple of things in common with what corpse is attracted to;

positive energy, uniqueness and rings

a palette filled with bright colours

like, almost rave style colours

that could be clothes, makeup, hair, nails, accessories

chunky, white shoes

selfless people

someone who as each day goes by becomes more charming to him

he likes the smell of candles from bath and body works, as we all know

the colour purple

skeppy:

big eyes

someone who’s able to make him laugh without even trying

tooth gaps

someone who has very playful, innocent vibes to them

and someone who can take jokes and pranks

people who walk confidently

the smell of strawberries

long eyelashes

someone who collects things others usually wouldn’t

someone who is very respectful to others

a mix between really comfy clothes and really feminine clothes

fundy:

someone who comes across as “different” than others

and don't you dare think of ✨I’m not like other girls✨ (I know you did -_-)

he just thinks people who think and act very different than others are very interesting

beauty marks

nicely shaped eyebrows

someone who finds mystical things interesting

fox eyeliner (yes, I put this in here because: furry)

someone who has unusual, yet surprisingly good taste in music

people who are constantly warm

red lips

the colour light brown, almost beige-like

quackity:

someone who gets his humour

someone like him, but more quiet and slightly shy

especially when on screen in front of an audience

sliver necklaces

the smell of flowers

dark, extreme eyeliner

loose clothes

freckles

piercings

someone who teases others and who can handle to be teased by others

the colour dark blue

punz:

the colour grey

a fresh fashion sense

yet still very comfortable fits

messy buns

someone who he just knows will be a cool person before he even talks to them

someone who just has that kinda vibe, y’know?

glossy lips

independent people

someone responsible and caring to others

tattoos

navel piercings

awesamdude:

cropped jackets

the colour neon green

hair put up in a bun

someone with a free nature

someone who is a complete wild card

like, someone who will jump over a fence just to get closer to a bunny they think they saw on the other side of it

loose strands of hair

clear nail polish

cargo pants

the smell of chocolate

slimecicle:

people who have comfort items

someone who knows random facts that no one else usually knows

people who have a unique way of thinking

passionate people

and when they talk about what they’re passionate about, they talk for hours

shorter hair

sweet and nutty scents

natural beauty

fluffy hair

honest people

but not brutally honest

the smell of coconut

eret:

eye glitter/shimmer

silky clothes that shine in the moonlight

platform boots/heels

long, flowy dresses

someone who does whatever they want

and who doesn't like being told what to do by others

the colours pink and dark purple

the smell of the ocean

someone who already knows how to live their life

stretch marks

foolish:

low-cut jeans

someone very silly who knows how to have a good laugh

someone very supportive of their friends

curtain bangs

long-sleeved sweatshirts

someone who loves food

puppy eyes

straight, white teeth

someone who is willing to help others in need

someone who doesn't talk badly about others behind their back

someone who knows what they want

jack manifold:

confidence

white, wide-legged pants

the colour light blue or just pure white

people who are very easy-going and fun to be around

someone who can fit into and understand anyones humour

an open-minded person who likes to hear from other people’s point of views when they have a different opinion than them

butterfly patterns

crop tops

oversized t-shirts

hair beads

tommy:

people who are just as loud as him

and at the same time knows when to be serious

the colours yellow and grey

people who are kind to everyone

creative eyeliner

fluffy hair

people who can get so lost in their own world, they almost forget about their surroundings

colourful accessories

someone who isn't afraid to be who they are

someone who has many passions and loves to talk about them

oversized hoodies

tubbo:

hoodies layered over skirts or dresses

frilly socks

people who are very adventurous, and wants to make their life as interesting as possible!

someone who can help him overcome some of his fears

charm bracelets

cute habits

the colours yellow and orange

dimples

the smell of almond milk and honey

people who twirl their hair unknowingly when bored or unfocused

ranboo:

someone who looks intimidating at first (he thinks people like that are cool as fuck)

but then is, like, the sweetest person he’s ever met

loves someone who can speak fluent sarcasm, just like him

he likes sass

glassy skin

fingerless gloves

people who act cocky for the fun of it

but actually don’t care about winning or losing or proving anything

simplistic earring placements

people who have hidden talents, and the more you get to know them, the more talents are revealed

people who don't gossip

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tag list✰

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