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awrkive · 14 hours ago

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[TEASER] CATCH YOUR WAVE (m) — JJK.

the last thing you expected when you strolled into your new school is to become the favorite project of the 5’11” tatted-up overly enthusiastic, golden-retriever-in-human-form PE teacher, jeon jungkook. he’s all goofy grins, bad math puns, and relentless charm, while you’re busy pretending you’re immune to his antics... spoiler alert: you’re not. and that infuriates you.

alternatively, jungkook tries to prove that opposites don’t just attract — they collide. a classic case of one plus one equals: “oh, no. i like him.”

PAIRING jeon jungkook x (female) reader

GENRE r18+ (fuff, slight angst, mature content) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

WORD COUNT ~15k (still working around the final wc)

TEASER WORD COUNT 1.8k words

WARNINGS/MISC teachers!au, pe teacher!jk, math teacher!reader, seven!jungkook, himbo!jk, coworkers!au (works in the same school), oc gets kinda mean sometimes but jungkook likes it lmfao, extremely corny pick up lines.. he tries 💔 2000s romcoms references (sorry) warnings for this teaser: nothing major. just bad math puns delivered by himbo jungkook :')

NOTES inspired by the whole “can she gaf me💔” vibes in the seven mv (by jungkook) and ultimately the click five’s song, catch your wave (hence the title🥸 pls listen to the song for the whole vibes hehe <3). ive been wanting to write himbo jk for awhile bcs all my jks are like … smart so far so i thought wait we need to change that. gahhhh im so so freaking excited ive been thinking about writing this ever ever since i wrote that one himbo jk drabble 💃🏼

[ CYW MOODBOARD ] • [ MAIN MASTERLIST ]

RELEASE DATE 2025, FEBRUARY 15TH | 01:00 AM KOREAN STANDARD TIME (GMT+9)

They say life is a balance of good and bad days, and you’re not a pessimistic person, but sometimes enough is enough. How is your week already this bad when it’s just barely started?

Sunday morning, when you picked up your laundry from the shop, you were too late to realize that you mixed not just one but two white underwear with the colored loads. You’d blame it on the fact that they were too tiny, too flimsy for you to notice. But you know you should’ve double-checked before putting them in the machine. And now you have lost two panties. And in this economy? That shit cost a ton.

When Monday came and the head of the Math Department informed you there was a sudden shift in your schedule for the semester, it meant that instead of teaching three Algebra classes for tenth graders, you’re also teaching pre-Algebra for eighth graders, meaning you’re gonna have to cross the long walk from the high school building to the middle school one, the latter being all the way to the left wing, completely the opposite side of the right wing where the faculty room and your initial classes are.

Today, you’ve woken up with your WiFi not connected to the internet (something you have to talk to your landlord about when you come back home) and just two minutes ago, you realized you forgot to take your coffee order with you from the cafe across your school building, the sad garlic bread you bought along with it staring right at you without its beloved beverage pair.

Truthfully, it might be your last straw. How the hell is this happening to you out of all people? The semester is just starting, for god’s sake, and you’re already hanging on by a thread.

You take a deep breath on your seat before standing up from your cubicle, heading to the coffee machine by the snack bar.

You hate the coffee here. Whatever brand they keep on stocking the pantry with, it’s too naturally sweet – and you don’t like your coffee with sugar.

But you have no choice but to make do. The cafe’s too far out and your first class starts in about twenty minutes.

“Good morning, Ms. Math Genius – ready to crunch some numbers today?”

As if this day couldn’t get any worse, you shut your eyes close for a moment when you hear the familiar voice.

You stir your coffee with downturned lips.

“Only if you promise to flex those brain muscles—” You say, turning to look to the side. Much to your expectation, it’s Jeon Jungkook, leaning casually against the wall with that usual faux suave he keeps on around you – which you can’t take seriously because his big doe eyes tell you a completely different story. He’s wearing some Nike dri fit shirt, one that’s too tight around his chest and accentuates a comparatively tiny waist that you have to force your eyes upwards. But as they do, they land on the biceps that are straining against the poor material. It wasn’t lost on you though that one second after, they’re suddenly flexing. You arch your brow as you glance a look on his face. “—as much as you flex those biceps.”

Jungkook’s lips curl into a huge grin, expecting the jab.

“You know it!” He chuckles, running his fingers through his bangs. “I’m all about solving problems, and I’d say my favorite equation is you plus me equals a perfect start to the day.”

You fight a loud groan from escaping your lips as soon as he says that, giving him a certain look before shaking your head and going back to your coffee.

But you should’ve known better by now, because Jungkook – aside from being a PE teacher extraordinaire and every student’s favorite at that, Thee Football Coach, 5’11” tatted brunette with a long, fluffy hair paired with an objectively, annoyingly attractive face – is persistent.

Most especially when it comes to annoying you.

A few steps, and then you feel him getting closer to you.

“Did you know that—”

You roll your eyes. That’s it. If it’s another one of his corny math pick-up lines again you swear to god—

“Jungkook, you don’t have to keep doing this everyda—”

“—we’re like parallel lines?”

“What.”

“Did you know that we’re like parallel lines?” Jungkook repeats earnestly, just like he always does. When he’s up in your personal space like this, it’s easy to get a waft of his cologne – and your annoyance could’ve been justified if he smelled like shit but somehow, even though he looks like he just got back from a run judging by his running shoes and gym bag, he still smells… okay.

Just okay. As in, you don’t care how good he smells like or how he smells at all.

You make sure to keep that thought at the back of your head.

“No.” You say, hoping to dismiss the conversation right there as you pick up the cup of coffee from the machine, ready to turn on your heel, but then Jungkook laughs ever so slightly and gives your arm a barely-there poke.

“Come on, entertain me a little.”

You squint your eyes at him. He challenges your stare with a growing smile on his face. Scoffing, you roll your eyes again before you put the paper cup back on the table. With a sigh, you cross your arms and look at Jungkook. For a split second, his eyes cast downwards to your chest level but he quickly snaps out of it.

“Okay… we’re like parallel lines… why? Because we’ll never meet?” You say in response to his little request, keeping your tone impassive.

Jungkook’s eyes slowly widen at your words, smile slowly dropping – as if the logic of your words have ruined one of his million pick-up lines again.

“I– no! What? I meant, we’re like, always running to each other! Side by side. Parallel lines.”

“Okay… so still never meeting?” You ask impatiently, brows furrowing.

Jungkook mirrors your confusion. Then, he raises a hand, one finger up. “One second. I’ll fix this–” he takes his phone out from his pocket, types on it quickly, lip jutting out as he reads whatever he’s looking up, and then, “Ohh, I might have meant asymptote lines. We’re like asymptote lines.”

Your face contorts into even deeper confusion. Holy shit, you’re not dealing with this very early on in the morning, especially not after the circumstances of the past hours.

“Asymptote lines are more depressing than parallel lines if we’re talking metaphorically.”

Jungkook squints his eyes at you, suspicious. “Are you sure?”

“I would hope I know my lines, Jungkook. I teach them everyday.”

He laughs again, eyes crinkling at the corners cutely, and you hate how that tugs something at your heartstrings.

You catch yourself right at that moment.

Jeon Jungkook is not cute. You keep in mind. He’s not cute.

Jungkook thinks you’re so cute. Gorgeous, most of all, and unbelievably so. You and your signature furrowed brows and pink pouty lips.

As usual, you have your hair up in a clean bun today, and Jungkook can smell the lace of sweet vanilla from you as he takes a step closer to get a cup for himself.

He loves the coffee here. Whatever brand they keep stocking the pantry with, it’s sweet as fuck. Just like how Jungkook likes his caffeine dose. Kind of like you, he thinks.

Jungkook casts a quick glance at you again, can't really help himself when you're so pretty, although he makes sure to be subtle about it.

You’re wearing another one of your pencil skirts, one that he has to avoid staring at for longer than three seconds lest his mind takes him too far – but the upper view is even more of a torture, unfortunaly for him. Because as much as you wear the same outfit every single day and it should mean that Jungkook should get used to it by now, he can never be immune to your silk long sleeves, where you keep the top three buttons open – and as much as Jungkook tries to pry his gaze away from the exposed skin down from your neck, it’s like there’s a strange force in the universe that keeps him on it. Doesn’t really help that you like crossing your arms under your chest, too, making his mind run a mile per minute at the thoughts that form inside his head when a very apparent cleavage shows—

Alright. Damn. It’s like 8 am.

And you were saying something about lines…

“Yeah? I hope you can teach me too, I need to—”

“Goodbye, Mr. Jeon.” You cut him off before he can even finish his sentence, taking your coffee with you as you head to the direction of your cubicle.

The nickname makes Jungkook’s lips curl up. He probably shouldn’t smile, given that you only ever call him that when you want to cut the conversation with him short. But he can’t help it, it sounds sweet coming from your pretty lips.

In an attempt to not look like a fool, Jungkook bites his lip as he watches your disappearing figure, your heels clicking on the floor as you walk away. Your legs look so long in that grey pencil skirt, and it really should be criminal how you look like that even when you’re just showing your back.

In his trance, he forgets about the brewing coffee in his cup and absentmindedly takes it out while the machine is still running, the hot liquid pouring from the nozzle quickly burning the skin on his finger.

“Oh, shit!” He hisses, jumping from the shock, almost knocking his coffee out but thankfully he manages to catch it on time, just as when another member of the faculty walks by the snack bar.

With an awkward smile, Jungkook raises a thumbs up to Mrs. Lee.

“Good morning, Mrs. Lee. Looking rad as always.” He cheerfully greets, and Mrs. Lee’s confusion from seeing him fumble with his cup earlier quickly turns into a coo.

“Oh, Mr. Jeon, you charming kid. I was just gonna get my cup of coffee.” She says, walking towards his direction.

Jungkook adjusts the strap of his gym bag to his shoulder and takes a cup for Mrs. Lee with a grin, making her smile.

She thanks him and with a playful salute, Jungkook goes toward the general direction of his cubicle, and because the PE department and Math department are just across from each other, he walks past you, typing something on your iPad before you look around and catch his gaze.

Jungkook automatically waves, smiling brightly, but you only frown, shutting your iPad close and ignoring him.

Amused, Jungkook tries to fight off a huge grin, taking a few long strides to get to his own cubicle.

His day is already off to a good start.

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook imagines #jungkook fic #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fluff #bts fanfic #awrkive #p; writing

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jeonginsleftcheek · 3 days ago

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Catch me when I fall (2)

THIS IS DIVIDED INTO 2 PARTS CAUSE TUMBLR HATES ME🫠🫠

~ PART 1

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

genre: fluff, angst, smut

wc: 9.4k (30.6 both parts)

synopsis: An artist finds inspiration in a dancer, and the dancer finds hope inside the artist's paintings.

warnings: multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, oral(f and m) light bondage & restraints, fingering, spanking, face fucking, creampies

a/n: once again a hyunjin fic that i made too long hskdlc so this is the second part! enjoy🩷 (i still suck at french, and also idk shit about bowling so i skipped through it a little lmao)

~ masterlist

~ divider by @strangergraphics

As promised, you woke up to Hyunjin smiling down at you, propped up on his elbow while he caressed your face.

"Good morning, ma chérie. Did you sleep well?" he asked as you nuzzled into his palm like a kitten.

"Mhm. Did you?"

"Next to you, of course I did." he leaned down to kiss your forehead and your face flushed.

"You know, I think we should go out somewhere today, do something fun. You've been cooped up in your house and you need some fresh air in your lungs." he added.

"You're right. Though I wouldn't mind spending the entire day in bed with you." you nuzzled into his neck and Hyunjin snickered.

"Doing what?" he teased, his fingertips ghosting on your waist.

"You know..." you muttered, hiding your face in embarrassment.

"No, I don't. You have to tell me." Hyunjin smirked and you huffed and looked up at him.

"I'm not saying anything." you pouted and he laughed, kissing your pout away.

"Maybe you could show me later." he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Maybe I could." you smirked, carding your fingers through his hair.

"Besides those fun activities, is there something you want to do outside?" Hyunjin asked as he closed his eyes and sighed, basking in your touch.

"Ice skating." you said and he looked at you, chuckling nervously.

"Ice skating? I've never been." he admitted, his cheeks red.

"Really? You seem like a 'try everything at least once person', and ice skating is like a mild normal activity unlike bungee jumping and other stuff you told me you did." you chuckled.

"I guess it is. I just always avoided it for some reason. But it'll be fun to try something new with you." he smiled.

Hyunjin didn't want to leave you alone at all and you still felt a little weak, needing to have him next to you so you could lean on him. So, you spent the day together until it was evening, and you got ready, happy to finally be out and about.

Hyunjin waited for you and when you came out of your room in a cute sweater, looking bundled up and ready for the cold weather, his heart melted. He stood up from the couch, taking large strides towards you as you looked at him with eyes wide. He smirked as he stood closer, hand reaching out towards you as he hooked his finger in the belt loop on your jeans and pulled you into him.

"Precious." he whispered as he started kissing you. You wrapped your arms around him, your heart beating fast as he kissed you so sweetly, making your insides burst in little fireworks. "Let's go."

The two of you first stopped at Hyunjin's house so he could get changed before you made your way to the ice skating rink, both giddy with excitement.

"So, I am going to hold onto the railing." Hyunjin said when the two of you finally stepped, or rather slipped onto the ice. You chuckled at his cute, panicked face as he gripped at the glass railing, looking absolutely lost, his eyes becoming big while he scanned the rink.

"Those people are moving really fast." Hyunjin gulped and you laughed harder.

"Go ahead, laugh at my misery." he pouted dramatically.

"Hyunjin, you will ace this as soon as you let go of your fear. Come on, give me your hand." you reached out towards him and he eyed your hand suspiciously.

"Do you trust me?" you asked softly and he looked into your eyes, his face softening immediately.

"I trust you." he said and took your hand in his.

"We'll go slowly at first." you said, leading him away from the railing.

"Oh god." he slipped a little, grabbing onto your arm with both hands.

"Relax." you tried to calm him down. "Have you ever been on rollerblades?"

"Maybe twice." he grimaced.

"Fine, channel that into your legs. Just glide slowly." you said and he huffed cutely, trying to hold his balance even though he almost slipped a few times.

He looked so adorable, holding your hand in a deathly grip as he sucked his bottom lip in, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He almost seemed like a cute child, angry at the ice for making him slip on it. Slowly, but surely Hyunjin was gliding through the ice rink with you.

"You're doing it!" you giggled.

"I'm doing it!" he giggled too, before it became a full on laugh which proved to be a mistake as Hyunjin shrieked suddenly, losing balance. You reached out for him but it was too late, he had already collided with the icy ground.

"Ouch." he wailed, grabbing at his lower back.

"Oh my god, are you okay?!" you gasped.

"My butt hurts." he pouted at you.

"It'll be fine." you chuckled, helping him up. "Skate it off." you added as he grabbed onto the railing.

"This is not as fun as I thought it would be." he kept pouting as he looked at you.

"If I kiss you, will it be more fun?" you pressed closer to him and he smiled instantly.

"Mhm." he nodded fervently, his little curls bouncing around his face. You giggled as you grabbed the back of his neck and crashed your lips into his.

"Better?" you asked against his lips.

"Hmm. One more?" Hyunjin smirked.

"Sure." you chuckled, kissing him again.

It wasn't only one more but after you had finally parted, Hyunjin was more energized to try again. Pretty soon, the fall was forgotten as he got the hang of it, the two of you skating easily on the ice, the music urging you on. You couldn't stop laughing in joy, your heart swelling at the sight of Hyunjin being so truly happy.

When you finished, Hyunjin was buzzing.

"Oh my god, that was so fun! And my ass is not even hurting that much anymore." he noted and you started laughing.

"I'm glad you had fun. I knew you were going to like it." you said as the two of you started walking.

"Did you have fun?" he asked.

"Of course I did."

"That's the most important thing then. I wanted to see you smile, ma chérie, it's the prettiest thing." he smirked as your hands brushed.

You blushed immediately and he grabbed your hand, gently entwining your fingers.

"Thank you." you said, looking away from him.

"Don't hide from me." Hyunjin said, pulling you into a sweet hug. You looked up at him and the world disappeared like it always did once you got lost in his warm eyes.

"Wanna come to my place?" he whispered.

"Yes."

The two of you got some street food to eat on the way so you don't have to cook or wait for food to be ordered since you had other plans in mind.

As soon as you stepped into Hyunjin's apartment, you were pinned to the wall. A gasp escaped your lips as you felt a wave wash through your heated body.

"I missed you, mon cœur." he brushed his lips against yours. "Missed being close to you."

"H-Hyunjin." you whimpered quietly as his hands gripped at your hips, slowly sliding to your waist.

"I missed you too." you added, playing with his curls before entwining your fingers in them and pulling a little.

"Sweetheart." Hyunjin moaned when you pulled his head back and attached your lips to his neck. His legs trembled while you sucked love bites into his skin and he pressed up against you, making you feel his erection brushing against your thigh.

"Y/n." Hyunjin was losing himself, slowly grinding against you. "Mm." he moaned as you licked at the sore spots you had created.

The way he looked at you when you parted from his neck made your pussy clench. His eyes were full of hunger, darkened with lust.

"I want to try something with you." he grabbed your face gently. "Will you let me?"

"I-I don't know what it is." you stuttered, gripping at his waist.

"Let me show you, darling. You can say no if you're not into it." he smiled, taking your hand in his and leading you to his guest room. "Don't be scared." he added softly as he noticed the nervous look on your face.

You had no idea what to expect as he opened the door but it was definitely not the confusing contraption hanging from his ceiling.

"What..." you chuckled nervously. "Is that...?"

"A sex swing." Hyunjin finished your sentence with a smirk. "Thought it would be appropriate for you." he added and you smacked his arm as he laughed, your cheeks heating up.

"When did you even get it?" you asked.

"After the first night you spent here."

"Wow, you planned ahead." you giggled.

"So, you wanna try it? We don't have to." Hyunjin smiled, wrapping his arms around you, pulling your back into his chest. He nuzzled into your neck and exhaled, you could feel his warmth radiating onto your body and even though he seemed calm you felt his erection pressing into your ass. He wanted you so much in that moment, in any way you'd let him have you.

"I wanna try it." you whispered, a shaky breath leaving your lips.

"Really?" Hyunjin asked excitedly. "Now?"

"Yes, now." you chuckled at his eagerness. His expression changed from an excited puppy to a hungry wolf in a milisecond, making your gut swarm with excitement.

"You do know you'll be completely at my mercy, my darling?" he smirked, brushing his lips against your jaw.

"I know." you said, biting on your lip as you looked up at him with eyes full of lust.

Hyunjin turned you around, kissing you fervently as his hands grabbed at your body, asking you to take your clothes off. Your hands were busy on his body too, sliding under his shirt and touching his abs and chest. His legs buckled each time you touched him, you had such power over him as he had over you, both of you completely infatuated with one another.

When your clothes were finally off, Hyunjin's eyes traveled all over your body hungrily.

"Let's get you swingin'." he said and you chuckled, how he managed to be sexy yet silly at the same time was beyond you. He led you to the swing, assuring you it was safe as he took all the precautions, installing it and checking it beforehand.

You felt excited and a bit nervous but you knew Hyunjin would stop if you asked him to and he'd never hurt you. He helped you sit up as he strapped your hands in first, restricting your movements. Arousal grew inside you as your pussy throbbed, wet with your slick.

"Tell me if something is too tight or uncomfortable." Hyunjin said as he started strapping your legs in.

"It's fine for now." you said.

Your mind didn't process how spread open you were actually going to be until after Hyunjin had secured both your legs in, your pussy lips opening up as you were positioned in almost a complete split. You shut your eyes tight in embarrassment at being like this in front of Hyunjin.

"You're so beautiful, ma chérie." Hyunjin's voice sounded husky as his fingertips traveled on your inner thighs to your tummy and waist, teasing you as you twitched under each and every touch of his, making you open your eyes and look at him.

"Une œuvre d'art." he whispered as he slid his fingers through your welcoming folds.

You moaned at his words and touch as Hyunjin observed you, moving his fingers so slowly, barely touching you and you whimpered, struggling against your restraints, your legs trying to close to get some friction but you were stuck.

"Patience, my darling. Je tiens à toi." he whispered as he kneeled in front of your pussy, his hot breath hitting you and making you clench around nothing. Hyunjin leaned in and kissed your pussy, teasing you and making your legs shake as you whined for him to give you more. He ignored your whimpers and kept leaving small kisses on your lower lips before he put his lips around your clit, sucking on it lightly.

"Hyunjin!" you whimpered as arousal gushed from you. "M-more." you begged, your hands grabbing at the restraints holding them. Your legs were already trembling and he didn't even do anything, you were turned on like never before, the way he had you posed for him made you want to burst.

Hyunjin licked at your entrance, his tongue playful and skilled, making you moan loudly again as your body trembled, shaking the entire swing just a little. You threw your head back as Hyunjin started making out with your pussy, your breasts trembling as you kept shivering. Hyunjin gripped at your thighs and ass, massaging it and enjoying your taste and the view.

He had always admired the way your body could contort and he didn't even dare to dream of laying a hand on you, the ethereal being flying in the sky. But here you were, suspended in air and spread beatifully just for him to enjoy you. Hyunjin's eyes rolled back as your entire body shook against his lips and he moaned into you, his brows furrowing as he slurped up your essence. Your orgasm hit you like a wave that crashed into Hyunjin's tongue as he savored the sweet taste of you, lapping up every drop.

"You taste so sweet, my muse." Hyunjin licked around his lips before kissing your pussy again.

"Hyunjin." you whimpered, tears of pleasure already gathered in your eyes.

"Shh, I got you." his fingertips slid between your folds before he slowly pushed two fingers in, your pussy taking him easily. You moaned at the feeling of being filled up as Hyunjin leaned over you while slowly fucking you open, his other hand grabbing a fistful of your hair. He lifted your head up a little and kissed you passionately, pushing his tongue in deep and making you taste yourself as he took your breath away. He fucked you faster as he kept kissing you, swallowing every moan you were letting out. Your legs were shaking again, trying to close around his arm from all the stimulation but you couldn't move.

"Ah!" you parted from his lips only to moan against them as you squirted on Hyunjin's hand.

"Good girl." he smirked and you whimpered as he leaned down to kiss your face, helping you come down a little.

"Mon cœur, I need you to prep me a little." he smirked, walking around the swing to stand behind you. You gasped quietly when you realized what he wanted to do so you let your head fall backwards. Hyunjin smirked, standing closer to your face as he pressed the tip of his cock on your lips. You opened them and he slowly pushed in as much as he could, fucking your face gently as he held the back of your neck, his other hand cupping your breasts and playing with your sensitive nipples. Your eyes were shut tightly as you relaxed your throat and Hyunjin groaned, the feeling of your warm and wet mouth around him and the sight of you surrendering completely to him drove him insane. He pushed in and out a few more times, hands gripping your breasts harder.

"Fuck." he gasped, pulling out. "I almost came." he added, looking surprised. You coughed a little, lifting your head up.

"Are you okay, darling?" he asked.

"Yes, please, I need you." you looked up at him with glassy eyes and how was he supposed to deny you? Hyunjin positioned himself between your legs, pushing his cock in slowly so you could feel him stretching you inch by inch and you whimpered at how easily he slid in, with you being so opened.

"Hyunjin." you moaned his name as he buried himself to the hilt within your warmth.

"My angel. You feel perfect. Made for me." he looked at you like you were everything as his large hands gripped at you, his hips starting to move.

"Made for you." you repeated in trance as Hyunjin started fucking you harder, losing himself in the feeling of you taking him so well. Your body was burning up, shaking and sweating as you moaned loudly, no one had ever been this deep inside you, hit all the places that Hyunjin has. The swing was moving slightly in tandem with the two of you, aiding to the feeling of Hyunjin splitting you apart.

Your head fell back as you moaned loudly at him hitting your sweet spot and Hyunjin shook, gripping at you. You let out a loud whimper as you came, exploding around his length and squirting on him again.

"Y/n." Hyunjin groaned as he pulled out, grabbing at the swing and breathing hard.

"Why'd you stop?" you asked breathlessly.

"Want you in another position before I cum." he smirked.

"Okay." you nodded, your heart beating out of your chest. Hyunjin then carefully removed the restraints from your legs, letting them fall down and relax a little before he did the same for your arms.

"Feeling good?" he asked and you nodded with a smile. His cock was red and throbbing, you knew he was close yet he didn't chase his high instantly, he still took a moment to take care of you. Your heart swelled and all you wanted was to give him pleasure like he gave to you.

"How do you want me?" you asked.

Instead of answering, Hyunjin turned you around, spreading your legs and securing them in the restraints. You let out a breath as he tied your hands next. Your feet were just barely touching the floor, your legs spread again as you shivered, looking back at Hyunjin to see him stroking his cock slowly.

"Ready to take me, mon cœur?" he asked.

"Yes."

Hyunjin slowly pushed in again, giving all of his length to you as you took him in greedily. He gripped at your hips, fucking into your harder and faster than before. Your loud whimpers together with the loud sound of skin slapping skin brought Hyunjin close to the edge immediately. He grabbed at your hair, pulling your head back as you arched your back for him while he pounded into you.

"So good, so perfect, ma chérie. You're so perfect." he kept mumbling and groaning while he fucked you, his free hand slapping your ass a few times. You exploded around him again and Hyunjin wrapped his arms around you, grabbing your breasts as he came, pushing his warm cum deep inside your core.

"H-Hyunjin." you moaned.

"Y/n." he whispered, kissing your neck as he slid out of you, his cum dripping down your inner thigh. He held onto you for a moment before carefully getting you out of the swing and scooping you up in his arms.

Hyunjin took you straight to the shower, running warm soothing water over the two of you.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" he smiled at you as he held your face in his palms.

"More than okay." you nodded with a smile, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Thank you for trusting me." Hyunjin kissed your cheeks gently.

"Of course." you kissed his pouty lips, completely forgetting about the pain living inside you.

As the snow outside started melting away, the ice around your heart melted too, turning into an avalanche that struck at the wall around Hyunjin's heart, making it crumble and leaving him unprotected, both of you now vulnerable and open to each other.

There was hope for the future, for your future.

The days got longer as the sun traveled higher in the sky, everything was waking up, all the birds, insects and flowers were finally coming to life, thriving in the warmth of the spring.

You had taken a little walk after getting some groceries you needed for tonight, as you'd be cooking for Hyunjin at his apartment. You had originally planned for him to come to your place but he had insisted on helping you with dinner even when you were adamant on doing it alone.

Along your walk you picked up some flowers for Hyunjin, seeing how he loved painting them all the time, almost as much as he loved painting you.

"Hyunnie, I'm here." you announced as you walked into his apartment but there was no answer.

"Hyunjin?" you repeated his name as you walked into the living room. You heard some faint music coming from his room behind the closed doors and you recognized the music as his 'painting music'. With a smile spreading on your face, you made your way to his room, carrying the flowers.

When you opened the door, you were met with the cutest sight ever. Hyunjin was sitting cross-legged on the floor, right in front of a big canvas, various brushes and paints thrown around him, his hair in a half up-do as he concentrated.

"Oh, y/n." Hyunjin jumped a little when he felt your presence. You giggled at him endearingly, noticing a streak of yellow paint on his cheek.

"You have paint on your left cheek." you said and Hyunjin reached up to wipe at his right cheek.

"Left cheek." you snickered.

"Oh." Hyunjin chuckled in embarrassment, wiping at his face.

"You're just spreading it everywhere now." you laughed, shaking your head.

"Stop laughing and come help me." he pouted cutely and you couldn't resist him. You grabbed some wet wipes and came closer to him and he pulled you into his lap immediately.

"Nice." he smirked.

"Oh, this was your plan all along, to get me into your lap?" you smirked back.

"Mhm." Hyunjin nuzzled into you, his arms wrapped around you tightly.

"What are you working on?" you asked as you started to turn around.

"No, don't look! It's not done yet." he quickly grabbed your face, making you look at him and squishing your cheeks as you whined. "It's for my new exhibition and it's a gift for you and you can't look at it until it's finished."

"Okay, okay, I won't look." you chuckled, grabbing his hands and kissing his fingertips softly.

"Did someone give you flowers?" Hyunjin's eyes widened a little as he nodded at the bouquet you had left on his table when you grabbed the wet wipes.

"No silly, I got those for you." you pressed your lips on his forehead.

"You got me flowers?" he blinked at you cutely.

"Yeah, I just thought they were pretty and you like to paint them so..." you trailed off, your cheeks becoming rosy.

"That's so sweet, mon cœur. Thank you." Hyunjin smiled, his dimples showing.

"You're welcome, mon chéri." you smirked and he laughed, throwing his head back.

"Someone has been studying their French." he joked, brushing his lips against yours.

"Maybe, just a little bit." you giggled before Hyunjin closed the small gap between you, kissing you sweetly. The kiss got heated quickly as always between the two of you and you broke it off as Hyunjin's hands started to wander.

"We have plans, remember?" you narrowed your eyes at him and he smiled cheekily.

"Ugh, just a quick one." he teased you, his hands sliding under your shirt.

"Quick does not exist with you, it's always hours." you laughed and Hyunjin chuckled with you.

"Can you blame me? It's your fault." he stuck his tongue out and you giggled.

"Right." you rolled your eyes. "Let's get ready, we have all night later."

"Okay." Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows at you but still didn't let you get up, not after he got a few more kisses from you.

You managed to get ready after some time and Hyunjin drove to your destination. You always wanted to try bowling and Hyunjin was always excited for active dates, enjoying the thrill and the competition that would lead from teasing to something more.

"Oh, this is really heavy." you struggled as you tried to pick up the ball.

"The beginners one is lighter, let's get you started with that one." Hyunjin said and you nodded, excited to learn something new.

Hyunjin was a good teacher, he was patient and sweet but he also teased you the entire time. Every little touch was purposeful, he made sure to press his body against yours any moment he could, making you shiver as you were always weak for him. Even with all that you had managed to come close to a strike a few times.

Hyunjin was skilled, hitting all the pins perfectly almost every single time. All the work out made you both hungry and you were ready to go home and start on the dinner you had planned. When you got closer to the exit, you noticed it was raining hard outside and neither of you remembered to bring an umbrella, not when Hyunjin drove you there. But, the car was at the end of the parking lot, meaning you'd have to gun it to get there and you'd still get soaked.

You smirked in mischief as Hyunjin turned to look at you.

"What?" he asked.

"Catch me if you can." you chuckled as you pulled open the door and bolted outside.

"Y/n!" Hyunjin squealed in shock, his eyes wide and lips falling open. You laughed at his expression as you started running towards his car.

He shook his head as a smile spread on his face before he ran outside too, the parking lot filled with squeals and laughter. Hyunjin was quickly coming closer and you screamed as he reached out to grab you but before he could, he slipped and fell down right into a puddle of water.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" you gasped, running back to him immediately.

"I keep falling for you." he said, shaking the water off like a dog as he slowly stood up.

"Cheesy." you laughed at the state of him and Hyunjin couldn't resist you, grabbing your face as the two of you stood in the rain, completely soaked.

"I'm so in love with you, y/n." Hyunjin said when you wrapped your arms around his waist. Your eyes widened as you stared up at him, your heart leaping out of your chest.

"I'm so in love with you too." you confessed and Hyunjin smiled happily, crashing his lips on yours. You didn't care about the cold rain drenching the both of you because it had washed away any fear you had in your heart.

"I'm in love with you, y/n!" Hyunjin yelled to no one in particular as you parted.

"Shut up, oh my god." you laughed, trying to cover his lips but he kept moving his head away and laughing as he yelled about being in love.

"Hyunnie, we're gonna get sick, let's go." you warned him, pulling him towards the car.

He hurried up then, turning the heating on in the car even though it didn't help much. When you got to his apartment, both of you shed the cold wet clothes and stepped into the shower.

His hands were on your waist instantly as he started kissing your shoulders and upper back. You shivered as you still felt the cold from the rain and Hyunjin pulled you into his body. You closed your eyes, feeling like you were floating away with him. Nothing could hurt you when he held you like this.

"Let me help you with dinner." Hyunjin pouted later, as you got ready to cook.

"No, I want to make this for you. Go paint or something." you chuckled, trying to pry his hands off of you.

"Can't I at least watch?" he kept pouting at you, his arms not budging at your attempts of moving them away.

"No." you smirked, finally slipping away from his grasp as he sighed dramatically.

"Fine, I'll wait in the living room." he said and walked away, sulking. You giggled at him as you started making dinner, humming to yourself. You leaned over a few times to check on Hyunjin and he was sitting on the sofa, watching something on the tv. He looked so cute so you turned the stove off for a moment and skipped to him.

He was about to turn around before you grabbed him and gave him a big smooch right on the top of his head, inhaling the shampoo he used earlier.

"Ma chérie." he leaned his head back to look at you, his cheeks rosy. "Do you need help?"

"No, it's almost done. Just wanted to kiss you." you smiled.

"Kiss me then." he smirked and you leaned in, giving him a sensual upside down kiss.

"I hope this is a teaser for dessert." Hyunjin whispered when you parted.

"Mhm." you chuckled before going back to the kitchen to finish up.

"Something smells nice." Hyunjin strolled into the kitchen a few minutes later, his stomach growling as he clutched onto it. "Is it done?" he tilted his head at you.

"It is." you smiled.

"What did you make?" he asked excitedly as the two of you sat down.

"It's cappelletti filled pasta with homemade meat sauce. I prepared the sauce beforehand, otherwise we'd be sitting here for hours, waiting for it to cook."

"Oh, it sounds delicious." Hyunjin smiled cutely as you took some out on his plate.

You waited for his reaction in anticipation as he brought the pasta to his lips, furrowing his brows and tasting it before his eyes widened and he let out a little hum of approval.

"This is delicious, mon cœur." he smiled.

"Thank you, lover." Hyunjin blushed at the nickname and you matched his rosy cheeks as both of you looked back at your plates.

After the wonderful meal, Hyunjin thanked you again and made you sit down so he could clean up. You wanted to help but he insisted that since you cooked, he should show his appreciation and clean it up. You sat, drinking your wine and observing him. There was something so simple and easy to being with him, you had no problem imagining a future where Hyunjin would be a part of it forever. You needed to hold him so you stood up, wrapping your arms around his middle and squeezing him a little as you leaned your cheek on his back.

"Angel." he smiled.

"Hyunnie." you rubbed your cheek against him.

"I'm done. We can have dessert now." he turned around to face you, a smirk dancing on his lips.

"Mhm. Can't wait." you giggled and he led you to his room.

"I have something for you." Hyunjin said, opening the drawer of his nightstand. You chuckled, he was always so imaginative and experimental when it came to anything, even in the bedroom.

"What is it now?" you asked with a knowing smile.

Hyunjin took out a rope and a blindfold and you lifted your brow at him.

"You're tying me up?" you chuckled, your face heating up.

"No, you're tying me up." he smirked at you.

"Oh. I am?" your heart skipped a beat.

"Mhm. I want to be at your mercy, mon cœur." Hyunjin's eyes became hazy.

"Okay." you nodded, coming closer to him. "You want me to have my way with you, use you?" you asked, teasingly touching his abs and chest.

"Yes, please chérie. Use me." he whimpered quietly as you squeezed at his body.

Hyunjin leaned in, kissing you slowly as his tongue circled yours and played with it and you were already getting so wet, wanting to be as close as you could to him. The two of you slowly stripped and Hyunjin laid on the bed, looking up at you lustfully, his eyes fluttering.

He was giving himself to you completely, putting his hands above his head so you could tie him up.

"How long will you manage to take not being able to see me or touch me?" you snickered.

"Not very long." he chuckled at you as you started tying his hands up.

"This should be fun. Close your eyes." you said and he did so, letting you put the blinfold over his eyes. You leaned back and looked at him, your sweet Hyunjin laid out before you, his lean body on display only for you to worship. He was so beautiful everywhere that you had no idea where to start. His plump lips so pouty and pink, invited you to kiss them first so you leaned in and pressed your lips into his. He whimpered quietly when you moved away, his heart beating faster in anticipation of where you were going to touch him.

Your put your hands on his hips and slowly slid them up on his v-line, your thumbs caressing his defined abs. Hyunjin shivered under you, his fingertips digging into the soft ropes instantly. You leaned in closer, letting your breath hit the skin right under his collarbone. Hyunjin took in a sharp inhale as you started kissing him, your lips slowly traveling down towards his happy trail, your tongue darting out occasionally to lick at his skin. Your hair tickled him as you kept going lower. Hyunjin anticipated your lips closer to his dick that was becoming hard for you, but you leaned away, teasing him.

He whined quietly and you giggled, your hands running up his dainty waist to his perky nipples. He groaned louder as you touched them, flicking them with your thumbs before pinching them a few times as you leaned in and kissed his neck. Hyunjin's head fell back as he moaned quietly while you kissed and licked at his skin, sucking on his adam's apple.

"Y/n." he moaned your name, getting more worked up as you teased him with your lips and hands. His hips started lifting up on their own accord, looking for some kind of friction. You kissed his shoulder and his arm, lips traveling to his chest and down again. This time your tongue darted out to play with the happy trail leading to his hard cock.

"Ah!" he moaned, gripping at the rope harder. Your hands squeezed at his hips as you kissed around his cock and bit at the flesh of his inner thighs.

"Ma chérie. Mon petit ange." he moaned out and you giggled breathlessly, hovering over his leaky cock.

"Hyunnie." you whispered before you licked up the pre-cum oozing out of his tip.

"Mm." he moaned, his head falling to the side as you teased at his slit with your tongue. He kept letting out shaky breaths as you played with him before you took him into your mouth, sucking on the tip, your hand squeezing his sensitive balls gently.

"D-darling." Hyunjin stuttered, his hips lifting up into you. You moaned around him, sliding down more as you took him in.

Hyunjin was losing himself quickly, the blindfold seemed to triple his senses, making him even more sensitive to your touches. His hands strained against the ropes as he slowly fucked up into your mouth, making you gag a little.

"Mm, my darling." Hyunjin moaned as you sucked on him faster, your hand wrapping around his length to give him more stimulation. He couldn't control his hips as they snapped up and you felt him twitch inside your mouth but you weren't done with him yet. You leaned back and he whimpered loudly, his body shuddering.

"I'm taking the blindfold off." you whispered as you hovered over him.

"Okay." he was breathless as you leaned over him and pulled the cloth off. He blinked a few times before looking up at you and you didn't even give him any time to adjust as you grabbed his cock and pressed it against your folds. Both of you moaned as you slowly slid down on him until you were filled up completely, his cock buried within you.

"Mm, you feel so good Hyunjin." you moaned, throwing your head back, closing your eyes as your pussy clenched around him.

"You feel perfect, ma chérie. Please, fuck me." he begged, making you whimper as you dripped around his length. You started moving slowly, adjusting to the position and having him buried deep inside you as Hyunjin laid there, letting you use him. He filled you up so perfectly and you lost yourself on top of him, bouncing faster and harder, your hips slapping against his as you threw your head back.

Hyunjin moaned loudly as he watched you fuck on him, your tits bouncing, your beautiful body on top of his, your sweet pussy stuffed full of his cock.

"My goddess. My muse." he whined and your eyes snapped open as you looked at him hungrily. You needed his hands on you and you leaned over him to untie them, bringing his wrists to your lips as you kissed them, slowly circling your hips on him. He looked at you as if you hung the stars in the sky before he wrapped his arms around you as you started bouncing up and down again.

"My lover." you tangled your hands in his hair and Hyunjin moaned loudly, flipping you over and making you squeal in surprise.

"Need you." he mumbled into your neck as he started snapping his hips into yours. You grabbed at his upper back, your nails digging into his skin as you moaned his name loudly. His hand came between you to rub at your clit as his other tangled in your hair, pulling lightly. You unraveld around him and he followed, his hips stuttering as he moaned desperately, rutting into you and riding his high.

"Hyun." you whispered when he leaned his forehead on yours, breathing hard.

"Best dessert ever." he breathed out, making you laugh. You stayed connected for a few more moments as you came down from your high.

"I'll be right back." Hyunjin said before he disappeared to the bathroom and you laid waiting for him, your heart still beating fast. He came back quickly, cleaning you up.

"I'm thirsty." you sat up a little, looking for your panties.

"I'll bring you some water, just sit tight." Hyunjin said while he clumsily put his boxers on, almost falling over as he started jumping on one leg. You giggled from the bed, stealing his shirt and putting it on as he looked at you with playful annoyance. When he came back he stood and looked at you for a moment and you looked up from your phone with an eyebrow raised.

"What?" you asked.

"You look so cute, I could eat you up." Hyunjin smirked as he stalked closer to the bed. Suddenly he started making weird growling noises as he crawled towards you and you squealed, laughing and moving away.

"Stop that!" you laughed as he grabbed your ankles and pulled you to him, making you scream.

"Got ya!" Hyunjin hovered over you, trapping you with his legs as he started tickling your sides.

"Sto-op!" you begged through breathless laughter, trying to push him away as he kept attacking you with his fingertips on your sides and tummy.

You kept laughing as he grinned at you, torturing you until your face became red.

"Ugghhh whyyyy?" you whined when Hyunjin finally calmed down.

"You're just too cute." he smirked, burying his face in your neck, his lips brushing against your skin.

"So I get attacked?" you whined again and he laughed.

"With tickles and kisses." Hyunjin grabbed your face gently, kissing you lovingly.

"I'm still thirsty." you said and he chuckled.

"Oh, right." he grabbed the forgotten water bottle, giving it to you. "My shirts look so good on you, better than when I wear them." he added.

"I doubt that but thank you." you smirked.

"Are you tired, mon cœur?" Hyunjin asked.

"Mhm." you nuzzled into his pillow and Hyunjin laid down next to you, pulling you into his arms immediately.

"Sweet dreams, darling." he whispered, kissing your forehead.

Your dreams, however were not sweet and you woke up in sweat and panicked as you grabbed at Hyunjin.

"Hyunjin." you whimpered and he hummed a little, his brows furrowed confusedly.

"Hyunjin, wake up." you whispered, hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Chérie? What's wrong?" he opened one eye as he looked at you all disheveled and still sleepy, before realizing you were crying, it making his eyes widen as he awakened completely and sat up.

"I- I had a nightmare." you hiccuped, grabbing at his arm.

"What nightmare dares torture my baby?" Hyunjin said as he pulled you closer.

"You were gone. I lost you." you said with pain in your voice as you buried your face in his chest, wanting to just disappear inside his arms, melt into him and become one, be with him always, be safe.

"No, my darling, you'll never lose me. I'm right here. It's okay, shh." he caressed your head as you cried.

"You're not allowed to leave me." you whimpered.

"I won't, y/n. You're stuck with me." Hyunjin said and you looked up at him. He started wiping your tears away with his thumbs as he looked at you with a gentle smile and sparkly eyes.

"Good, I want to be stuck with you." you admitted and his smile widened.

"I think after all the shit life threw at us, we shouldn't waste a chance if we have a good thing. You know I'm in this for the long run, you're not just some random girl or a rebound." he held your face in his hands delicately.

"I agree with you. You're definitely not just some random guy to me either." you said and Hyunjin chuckled, kissing your lips.

"Let's get some sleep. I promise I'll be here."

And Hyunjin was there. Every single performance you had, he'd watch religiously like he did from the moment he found you, cheering for you from the gallery. Only now, you knew he was sitting there so you'd always throw a little wink at him between poses. Hyunjin's heart fluttered every time you did that. He was there when it got tough, when you'd wake up sad and nostalgic, he'd come to you and hold you without any words, sometimes letting you just cry it out if you needed it.

You didn't want to completely throw away the memory of your late husband and Hyunjin never asked you to do that, he only asked you to be there for him like he's been there for you. There was nothing more you wanted than to support him equally, as you came to all his exhibitions like always, and this time they were inspired by you, all the paintings of you dancing were displayed on the wall. 'Up in the air' was the name of the exhibition he worked so hard on, focusing only on you and the art you produced with your body.

Summer had passed blissfully, simmering down into a warm beginning of the next season. The leaves started changing color, nature painting its own canvas as Hyunjin and you painted yours. He felt it in his bones, how much he came to love you so naturally, so easily. Hyunjin couldn't imagine his life without your wonderful presence. You felt the same, like your heart would burst from the love you had for him, something you thought you'd never feel again.

It was a sunny morning after you spent another night at Hyunjin's apartment, the evidence of your presence everywhere. The two wine glasses that you never bothered to wash left on the table as you got busy kissing each other. Your clothes strewn all over the floor of Hyunjin's bedroom. His bed messy, his pillow smelled like your shampoo, his sheets smelled of your perfume and you skin, such a sweet and comforting scent. You sat on the balcony when Hyunjin opened his eyes, looking for your body instantly. You woke up way too early, admiring his sleeping form for a while, wondering how a man this beautiful was lying next to you. You got up then, made some coffee and wanted to stand on the balcony, breathing in the fresh morning air, your heart full as you felt like you were reborn again.

Hyunjin sat up, rubbing at his eyes before he noticed you standing outside. He was pulled in immediately, following your footsteps to his balcony. You turned around when he opened the glass door, both of you smiling at each other.

"Good morning." you said.

"Good morning." Hyunjin's voice was raspy from sleeping.

"There's some coffee in the pot." you said but he came closer to you, lifting your hand with the coffee cup to his lips as he took a sip, making you chuckle and roll your eyes playfully.

His arms wrapped around you in a familiar, comforting embrace. Something inside you swelled, gnawing its way up from your stomach to your throat to the tip of your tongue. You burst at the seams as you turned to look at Hyunjin.

"I love you." you said with a breath of relief, with a flutter of your heart, with everything you had within you. Hyunjin's eyes went wide as he teared up slightly, his lips trembling.

"I love you." he said, smiling brighter than the sun, his confession carrying a promise of forever.

You giggled, eliciting a giggle from him too before the two of you started laughing in relief, in happiness, in excitement.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" you smiled as you looked back at the view of the city and Hyunjin's arms tightened around you.

"Move to Paris with me." Hyunjin said suddenly and you almost choked on air as you turned to look at him.

"W-what?" you chuckled in disbelief, putting your cup aside as your hand trembled.

"Let's buy a little house in Paris, somewhere in the countryside, have a garden. We could have a studio there where you can dance and I can paint. We can live on bread and wine for all I care. I'll teach you French, we'll be happy there. Let's leave this fucking city filled with too many memories and make our own in the city of love."

"Hyunjin, that's - isn't that sudden?" your stomach started doing flips as he looked at you excitedly.

"Life is short, you know that. Let's not waste any second and do whatever we want. What do you say?" he grabbed your face, smiling at you sweetly.

"Fuck it, let's move to Paris." you said and he laughed happily, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up, spinning you around until you were both dizzy.

"Je t'aime, mon cœur." Hyunjin held onto you tightly.

"I love you too."

Your feet may have touched the ground physically when Hyunjin put you down, but your soul was still floating, wrapped up in his love.

The fireplace was crackling, casting a warm hue over Hyunjin's smiling face. He poked at the fire absentmindedly as he sat on the soft carpet while you watched him, leaning on the door frame. You still had to get used to the complete change of the scenery; seeing endless fields of green grass out of your window was something completely different than the bustling city view you used to find comfort in.

As if sensing your presence, Hyunjin turned to look at you, his smile deepening, the sweet lovesick look on his face ever-present.

"Had a nice bath?" he asked, putting the fire poker aside.

"Mhm." you slowly made your way to him, and Hyunjin's heart jumped in his throat when his eyes caught site of you bare legs under the silky robe you were wearing.

"I finished washing the dishes." he said, staring at your plushy thighs as you came closer to him.

He looked up at you in awe, his eyes big and pleading as his lips parted. You smirked a little, untying the knot on the robe before you opened it up slowly to reveal a red lacy set you had put on after your bath.

"Oh. Wow." he gulped while you let the robe slowly slide down to the floor. "Y/n." Hyunjin turned to you, kneeling on the rug, his hands coming up to touch your smooth skin and grip at your flesh. His eyes became hazy instantly as he circled his arms around you, gripping at your backside while his lips pressed on your skin. Hyunjin kissed your thighs gently as he kept massaging your ass, his face coming closer to your dripping core. You tangled your hand in his hair, caressing him and patting him as your breathing got deeper.

"My goddess." Hyunjin whispered, lips ghosting on the skin right above your panties.

"Hyunjin." you whispered back, tightening the hold in his hair as he kissed the lace, tracing his lips to your clit. You spread your legs just a little, enough for him to lick at you with his tongue, making you tremble against him while he kissed and licked at your clit, tasting your arousal on his tongue.

A whimper of his name left your lips as he gripped at your hips and pressed his tongue harder against you, hungry to have more of you. Your legs buckled and Hyunjin gently pulled you down into his lap and you sat with your legs wrapped around him, your core pressing into his, making you moan.

"Let me have you, my muse." his hands slid up and down on your thighs. "Give yourself to me." he laid you down on the carpet as the fireplace kept crackling next to you.

"Take me." you whispered and he kissed you hungrily, his hands on your breasts, squeezing and worshipping, desperate and loving, driving you completely insane. He pressed his body against yours, kissing you harder, taking all your breath away from your lungs.

You grabbed at him like he was the only thing keeping you afloat, keeping your head above the deep water.

"Ah, my angel. Mon amour." Hyunjin whined against your skin as he kissed and nipped at your breasts.

"Lover." you breathed out, pulling on his hair a little as he gently played with your clit, the lace getting soaked with your slick as your pussy clenched around nothing.

"Mm." Hyunjin wrapped his lips around your nipple, still covered by the lace as he swiped his tongue over it repeatedly, making you shake against him.

You dug your nails into his arm, your other hand still tangled in your hair as he continued moving his fingers faster and sucking harder, bringing you to the edge as you came in your panties with his name on your lips.

"Oh." you gasped and Hyunjin giggled.

"That was fast." he smirked.

"Shut up." your face became red in embarrassment and Hyunjin looked proud.

"Relax mon cœur, I'm just as desperate for you." he whispered, grabbing your hand and leaving gentle kisses. He kissed your neck, marking you as his as his pretty fingers dipped teasingly between your folds, your wetness seeping through the lace. Hyunjin kept touching you like he was in a trance, lips traveling down to your breasts again and then your stomach until his breath hit your core. He brought his fingers to his lips and licked at them, moaning quietly.

"The sweetest fruit." he smirked before putting his lips on your lower ones, licking at you like he was thirsty for your juice. You jolted as your eyes rolled back, your legs falling open completely and hands by your sides as you dug your fingers into the carpet underneath you.

"H-Hyunjin!" you kept shaking and trembling against him as he licked at you, the lace now completely wet so he pushed it aside, sticking his tongue inside you and making you whimper loudly as you grabbed at his hair. Hyunjin moaned into your pussy, his body shaking too as you drove him crazy with your moans and reactions. He pushed his pants and underwear down, grabbing his throbbing cock and stroking himself as he ate you out while you pushed his head harder into you.

"Ah fuck!" you groaned as you exploded, cumming on his tongue and lips hard and Hyunjin moaned, gripping his cock to stop himself from finishing too early as he lapped up your juices.

"Mm, my love." he leaned back to get rid of his clothes. "I need to feel you around me."

"Please." you whimpered.

"You never have to beg, I'll give you anything you want, ma chérie." Hyunjin pressed his tip against you and you pulled him in closer with your legs. He smirked and grabbed them both, pushing them together and leaning them on his shoulder. You whimpered when his tip breached you, the position making you more tight for him.

"So tight." his eyes rolled back as he pushed in deeper. "You take me so well every time."

"Mm." your arched into him as he filled you up completely, his cock throbbing inside your pussy.

"Fuck me, Hyunjin." you moaned and he gripped at your legs, fucking into you hard. You couldn't help the loud whimpers escaping your lips as his hips pounded into you. His hands left imprints in your thighs as he fucked you and kissed your calf and foot, sucking on your toes shortly and moaning around them. You couldn't hold it in much longer, squirting around his length as he looked at you, his hips stuttering too.

He stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath in as he spread your legs and laid down on top of you.

"I don't wanna cum yet." Hyunjin caressed your waist, your hands holding the back of his neck as you brought him closer, leaving soft kisses everywhere on his face, his jaw, his lips and his neck. He gasped and moaned quietly, straining his neck as you licked and suckes on his skin, marking him.

"Let's take it slow." he whispered, kissing the spot under your ear.

"Yes, I want to feel you." you moaned and Hyunjin started moving his hips slowly as he looked at you with eyes full of love.

"How glad I am that I walked into the theater that one evening." he smiled, gently massaging your breasts.

"Probably as much as I'm glad I walked into your gallery randomly." you smiled back at him as you played with his hair and touched his cheeks.

"La vie sans toi est inimaginable." he whispered.

"I can't imagine my life without you either." you whispered back and Hyunjin smiled lovingly at you. You don't know how long you indulged in each other, whispering sweet nothings and giving each other soft kisses. The fire died down just a little as you reached your high, both of you moaning "I love you's" in each other's ears.

Getting lost in one another's embrace in the quiet and intimate atmosphere, lying in the precious, blissful happiness was rewarding every time.

"The fire has almost died." you chuckled quietly.

"I'll make sure it always keeps burning." Hyunjin smiled at you and you giggled kissing him silly.

The first snowflakes fell down gently on your cheeks as you and Hyunjin stood shoulder to shoulder, looking up at the sparkly christmas lights of the busy Parisian street. People were walking and laughing around you, the world was turning round and round, it was all a blur as the two of you only saw each other, completely infatuated with the moment.

"It's been exactly a year since we drank Alsatian wine in my studio together." Hyunjin said as he turned his body towards yours.

"Really?" you chuckled, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment of not knowing the exact date but Hyunjin counted every beautiful second spent with you.

"Yes. We should celebrate that." he smiled cutely at you, his eyes turning into slits and his dimples showing.

"I agree." you smiled. "We should visit Alsace too."

"Of course. We can go wherever we want, ma chérie." Hyunjin gently touched your cheek and leaned in to kiss you.

"I love you." you whispered against his lips.

"I love you." Hyunjin giggled, his cheeks becoming rosy. "I know this is like a spur of a moment thing, but it feels right." he added and you looked at him questioningly.

"Spend the rest of your life with me." he smiled, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Hwang Hyunjin, are you asking me to marry you?" you giggled, your heart speeding up.

"I am. Will you?" his eyes widened into an innocent puppy look he always gave you when he wanted something and you laughed in delight.

"Of course I will. There's no other way I'd rather live than to grow old with you." you clutched at him and he pulled you into a loving kiss, both of you giggling in happiness as the bright lights of the Eiffel Tower sparkled behind your bodies.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @eastjonowhere @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz

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asksonicverse · 16 hours ago

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You dont need to answer but I just wanted to tell you I adore Paradox being like "I hate all of them except" and then listing everyone except like 2 guys, honey you don't hate *all* of them you expressly don't hate *most of them*

Extremely charming characterization i adore it

[Creator Special number 2!]

So glad someone noticed that, I was originally going to have him name EVERYONE except Boost but then I was like “nah, Mania is just too annoying for Paradox to tolerate him”

And thanks! I’m trying to be… consistent with my characterization of each of them and stay in line with canon but like… URGH sometimes I want to deviate so bad just to indulge but I resist!

Needless to say tho, prism is probably going to get more affectionate later on. Rewatched Sonic Prime again and bro is a cutie patootie!

Headcanons… headcanons… hmm

Well, starting with the obvious, Paradox goes to therapy as I’ve mentioned which I think is hilarious. He and Lance are the only Shadows who really have their shit together which is why I think Sonadow works well for them? (we stan healthy relationships guys)

I do head canon that Eight doesn’t like being touched really at all anymore. After the metal virus, he grew so used to the fact that he couldn’t touch anyone that it sorta just stuck. He does it to save people, but not anything more. :(

And while I’m a sucker for the Trans Sonic HC I decided not to implement it in this particular AU!

I really want to include Captain Sonic and Shadow, but I haven’t played nor watched a serious play through of the game. (I’ve only really listened to a bit of the Snapcube dub..)

can someone tell me if Shadow is a Barista or a Mechanic in that game btw?? I google it, nothing pops up. I could’ve sworn there was something about a mechanic.

Uhh I LOVE Sonic Frontiers, fire game. If I include that one, it’ll ALSO be Sonamy since I’m pretty sure that game takes place before SA2 in canon?

I’m trying to keep the Sonics and Shadows balanced but I’d love to add Generations Shadow and Sonic. Just thinking of names already I get “Doom” for Shadow and “Emerald” for Sonic. (Referencing the fake emerald from their interaction in the shadow story)

Unfortunately I haven’t seen the Archie comics or Sonic Underground so I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

Someone also asked about if I’d ever include different AU’s: maybe if those AU creators gave me permission I’d be down to do a collab for a few asks or something!

Nope!

I dunno I just..! … how do I do? I’m fast. And you’re slow. That’s how I did it. /ref

Ahahah just kidding! But I am very fast. A few years ago I convinced myself I was a “slow drawer” because I was in a discord server with someone I looked up to (and holy cheese they could draw out fully articulate sketches in like 30 seconds!)

So I got insecure and taught myself to draw really fast. So now I just.. zoom! This does have a terrible draw back where I will very frequently forget smaller details.

Like if you look at half the posts, Shadow is missing his eyeliner and other markings frequently.

THIS IS JUST HILARIOUS TO ME YOU GUYS. PLEASE—

I’ve gotten SO many asks in my box about using Maria to calm the Shadows down or trying to give Shadows “Maria plushies”

Imagine you’re having a bad day and you get a plushie of your dead sibling thrown at you??? LMFAOOOO

I CANT I CANT I CANT PUT THEM THROUGH THAT 💔 Also I see every single ask.

“Do you all like Latinas” and “sonic which shadow is the hottest/shadow which sonic is the hottest” have all been engraved in my brain

Was joking with a friend on how that second question would come out LMFAOO

Previous | Next

#ask the sonic verse #creator special #maria robotnik #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog

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rhiannonsknife · 3 days ago

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okay, but... jackie taylor with reader! princess treatment? reader just loves sitting on her lap while wearing a cute short skirt and pretty ass, having jackie's arms around her, giving her a kiss with lip gloss when she wins a game, looking at her with big eyes and a cute pout ... just princess treatment?

i really love your work!

god….jackie taylor princess treatment, save me!! save me jackie taylor princess treatment!!

jackie taylor lives to spoil you.

she’s got an arm slung around your waist at all times, fingers resting just beneath the hem of your shirt to have a feel of your skin. she never lets you walk on the outside of the sidewalk, she opens doors for you without a second thought, and if you so much as shiver, she's already draping her varsity jacket over your shoulders, murmuring, “can't have my girl getting cold, can i?”

it’s fair to say that she is obsessed with you. and jackie doesn't even try to hide it.

it’s obvious to everyone around in the way she pulls you into her lap the second you're close enough, her arms wrapping around your waist like she owns you. she doesn't care where you are (on the bleachers after practice, at a party, even in the middle of the cafeteria if there's space) you're sitting on her, not next to her.

“you're so clingy,” you tease one afternoon, even as you settle comfortably against her, your skirt riding up just a little when you shift in her lap.

jackie’s hands squeeze your hips. “and?”

“nothing,” you say. “i like it!”

if she's not actively pulling you into her lap, she's tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear, playing with your fingers, kissing your temple just because she can. jackie even carries your bag after school, waits for you after class, and lets you steal her clothes even though she knows you only wear them so people will see.

and after a big game? there is no stopping her: even sweaty, breathless, and radiating victory, all jackie wants is you.

the second she sees you waiting for her near the sidelines, she beams, racing right over, gripping your waist, pulling you in.

jackie barely has time to catch her breath before you cup her face, press a sticky-sweet, glossy kiss to her lips, and pull back just enough to admire your work. a perfect pink layer left behind, her lips glittering with it.

"you taste like strawberries," she murmurs, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

you flush, curling further into her as the other yellowjackets begin to catch up. jackie just grins, keeping you right where you belong: wrapped up in her arms, pressed against her like she never wants to let go. (which, truthfully, she doesn’t…)

— nsfw below the cut. mdni.

okay but now i‘m thinking…jackie finger fucking you in her lap…? because, if you think about it, that also counts as princess treatment, right…?

maybe you’ve convinced her to let you do her make up or something:

at first, you’re confused as to why she would agree to this at all: jackie is definitely better at doing makeup than you, and hates when somebody messes with her face like that.

it only really dawns upon you when you’re already sitting on her lap: here you are, in the shortest little skirt, looking all cute and focused, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you reach for a brush.

no wonder jackie actually wanted this.

no wonder she’s got no sense of self control now.

her hands drift to your thighs, fingertips teasing along the hem of your skirt. just barely at first, featherlight touches that make you squirm but don't fully distract you as you reach for a brush.

but she doesn't stop there. she squeezes your thighs, her fingers pressing into soft flesh as she watches you try to ignore her.

“jackie,” you warn, not yet looking down.

jackie hums, all innocent. “hmm?”

“you’re distracting me,” you murmur, dipping the brush into the powder, trying to refocus. but, god, it’s hard when she trails her fingers up until she’s squeezing your ass.

“am i?”

you turn her chin slightly to apply the blush. “yes”

jackie, completely unbothered, presses a lingering kiss to your wrist, then the inside of it, then your palm. before you can react, she’s already leaning up, catching your lips in a kiss as well.

you sigh against her mouth, your hands sliding into her hair as the brush clatters to the floor.

as easy as that, and all your resolve is gone, replaced by arousal when jackie reaches between your legs. when she catches your eyes, tilts her head, and waits for the breathless nod before pushing your panties to the side, moaning as if she could feel actual pleasure from the way her fingers slide through your wetness.

it’s not long after that, that you find yourself propped up above jackie, most of your weight resting on your knees, one hand on the headboard, as she pounds her fingers into you. you don’t even have to do anything at all, she’s doing the work for you, wetness gushing down her arm.

“just like that,” jackie praises as the hem of your skirt bounces with each thrust. her free hand lingers on your lower back, supporting you in your current position and her face is covered in your lipgloss, chin and jaw glistening with it over a thin layer of sweat.

“come on,” she encourages, leaning back on her elbows to get a better look at you, her fingers stilling inside of your throbbing cunt.

it is up to you to take pleasure from her now.

later, you will be embarrassed by how fast you switch to riding her fingers…

#jackie taylor Ღ #˙🔞 ̟ !! mdni #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x female reader #jackie taylor x fem!reader #jackie taylor x you #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you

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atlas-of-andromeda · 5 hours ago

Text

Because I can, I'm answering all of them.

what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

Alot of things, obviously, but if I had to pick, I'd say:

Being straight up bullied for expressing interest in things growing up by my brother

Being largely a social outcast for most of my life

And video games

show us a picture of your handwriting?

Yes, I know it looks like shit.

For any curious, it's the lyrics to Does The Swallow Dream Of Flying by Cosmo Sheldrake that I wrote at school a few days ago because it was stuck in my head but I was in math so I couldn't listen to it.

3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

Wolfwalkers

The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Heathers (1989)

what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

Piss

(It's a long story)

what made you start your blog?

P.M. Seymour

what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?

Best? The anonymity of it.

Worse? The anonymity of it.

what scares you the most and why?

People hating me. I couldn't tell you why even if I wanted to.

any recurring dreams?

Sometimes I have this dream where I'm in a massive... sinkhole? I guess? That's covered entirely in moss, grass, trees, and miscellaneous foliage. There's also a waterfall somewhere in it. Everytime I have the dream it's dark, little light making it to where I am from the surface. I'm stood on this little cliff edge on the side of the hole, and everytime I look over the edge, and fall. And the dream ends there. I've had it at seemingly random intervals throughout the past... maybe nine-ish years?

There's also this dream I consistently have once, every four years. Where I'm awake in my bedroom at like... maybe 04:00 or something. And it's the early winter, snow just dusting the ground. I leave my room and the washroom door is open, light on, but all other lights are off. I walk over to the entranceway, and I can hear my mother screaming from the basement. I proceed to leave through the backdoor. I walk out into the front yard and my brother is there, and the lights on my family's car are on.

It gets a little fuzzy from then on, but I know that at some point I go back inside and there's a spoon - like the utensil - is important is some capacity. And at some point the dream suddenly switches into another, unrelated dream; where I'm laying on my back, on the floor of a massive almost warehouse-like building, completely empty, and except of the white and grey metal normally in warehouses, this building is made out of wooden planks. There's a giant fan on the roof blowing straight down on me. Balloons are involved at some point.

So... feel free to psychoanalyze me if you so wish!

tell a story about your childhood

One time my family and I were out visiting my grandfather, and there was a large lake near where he lived, so we went swimming. Now, I was like, five or six when this happened; I was very small (still am, but less so). And my older brother (by like four years) was walking out into the lake, and I was following him, because I did that sometimes when I was younger. And because he was (and still is) a lot bigger than me, he went out just fine. But because I was so small, the water picked me up and flipped me over, and I started drowning. My parents came to the rescue (my brother ignored me (dick)).

would you say you’re an emotional person?

I've gotten better in the last year or two, but yes.

what do you consider to be romance?

Couldn't tell you if I tried.

what’s some good advice you want to share?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

what are you doing right now?

Typing shit on Tumblr.

what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

Come out.

what do you think of when you hear the word “home”?

A house.

if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

I'd make myself braver and less of of a push-over

name 3 things that make you happy

Music, drawing, walking in nature

do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?

Nope. Not even kinda.

favourite thing about the day?

Being on the bus to and from school. I'm not at school or my house and I get to talk with my friend.

favourite things about the night?

Nobody bothers you. You are left alone for hours on end. It's the only time you get peace.

are you a spiritual person?

Nope.

say 3 things about someone you love

You're always making such shit comments about LGBT+ and minority people, and I can't say anything in retort. You make it easy to forget what a shit person you are, and I'm happy until you make one of those comments again. You're the only person who seems to care about me, even if I know that that if I were to be honest with you that'd change in a second.

say 3 things about someone you hate

You can't shut up for five seconds and give me peace and quiet. You've ruined my life in so many ways for so long. I can't wait for you to be gone.

what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

Going on for this long.

fave season and why?

Autumn. Cold, but not frostbite cold. limited amounts of bugs. Pretty colours. :)

fave colour and why?

Red. No reason, just like it.

any nicknames?

Pumpkin - my father.

do you collect anything?

Yeah! Rocks and breadclips! (Random. I know)

what do you do when you’re sad?

Depends. If I'm in public, suck it up until in private. In private, cry and read fanfiction.

what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?

Music.

are you messy or organized?

Pretty organized.

how many tabs do you have open right now?

...17...

any hobbies?

Drawing, writing, dancing, singing, playing guitar, playing harmonica.

any pet peeves?

People with no volume control.

do you trust easily?

Not really.

are you an open book or do you have walls up?

As many walls as possible.

share a secret

No. :)

fave song at the moment?

Vulture Culture by Fangclub

youtuber you’ve been obsessed with and why?

Rendog. Idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

any bad habits?

Biting my nails.

questions I think would be fun to be asked

what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

show us a picture of your handwriting?

3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

what made you start your blog?

what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?

what scares you the most and why?

any reacquiring dreams?

tell a story about your childhood

would you say you’re an emotional person?

what do you consider to be romance?

what’s some good advice you want to share?

what are you doing right now?

what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

what do you think of when you hear the word “home”?

if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

name 3 things that make you happy

do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?

favourite thing about the day?

favourite things about the night?

are you a spiritual person?

say 3 things about someone you love

say 3 things about someone you hate

what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

fave season and why?

fave colour and why?

any nicknames?

do you collect anything?

what do you do when you’re sad?

what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?

are you messy or organised?

how many tabs do you have open right now?

any hobbies?

any pet peeves?

do you trust easily?

are you an open book or do you have walls up?

share a secret

fave song at the moment?

youtuber you’ve been obsessed with and why?

any bad habits?

(this post was stolen from @teenage-mutant-ninja-freak, since it couldn't be reblogged anymore)

#reblog #text post #lore drop

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luvvictoria · 2 days ago

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First Impressions

+ pairings. simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

+ tags. romance, heavy (?) angst, slow-burn, action-packed military romance with angst and tension

+ summary. A skilled Air Force pilot is assigned to provide air support for a mission alongside Task Force 141, specifically working with the infamous Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley. You immediately feel the tension in the room, as Ghost is cold, distant, and unapproachable. Despite the pilot's efforts to be professional, it’s clear that Ghost doesn’t trust easily, especially not outsiders. The mission itself is simple — clear the skies while the ground team breaches a weapons facility — but the dynamic between you and Ghost is far from smooth. Your mutual dislike is evident.

+ materialist ; next part.

+ a/n. Reblog with your favorite line! It would help me to grow my account !! Thank you in advance. Thank you so much for your support ! It means very much to me! Also if you want to take a little peek at the next chapter here is my ko-fi !!

Task Force 141’s briefing room smelled of burnt coffee and sweat. It was the kind of stale air that clung to your skin and made your throat feel like it was coated in ash. The kind of air you had grown accustomed to on long missions, though nothing about the situation in front of you felt familiar.

You had barely stepped inside when you felt it — eyes boring into you like lasers. You didn’t have to look to know who it was. Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley. The man was infamous, a ghost in every sense of the word, and everyone who worked with him learned one thing fast: don’t try to get close.

Seated in the corner, arms crossed over his chest, he was every bit as unapproachable as they said he’d be. His iconic skull mask was in place, his body language closed off, as if daring anyone to try and get past the cold exterior. The air around him practically screamed I don’t need anyone but myself. It was the kind of attitude you had always hated. People who acted like they were the only ones who mattered. The lone wolf mentality.

You hated guys like that. The ones who acted like they were the only ones capable of doing their job. The ones who prided themselves on keeping everyone at arm’s length, hiding behind walls of silence and intimidation. It wasn’t that you were a stranger to soldiers like him. Hell, you’d worked with your share of them in the past. But Ghost? He was different. He was untouchable.

You squared your shoulders, taking a step forward and offering a firm, steady greeting, “Lieutenant Riley.”

He didn’t stand or offer any sort of acknowledgment beyond the briefest of nods. The words that came out of his mouth were clipped, as if he couldn’t be bothered. “Pilot.”

His voice was rough, like gravel under your boots, and the way he said it made it clear he was already annoyed by your presence.

Yeah. This was going to be fun.

You took a seat at the table, eyeing him for a moment. The silence between you two felt thick and uncomfortable, but you didn’t care. You were here to do your job, and nothing was going to stand in the way of that. Not even the infamous Ghost.

Before either of you could exchange another word, the door to the briefing room swung open with a force that rattled the walls. Captain Price, as always, looked like he had been born in a battlefield. His voice had the weight of a man who had seen it all. He stormed in, boots thudding against the floor, a mission file clutched in his hands. The moment he entered, everyone straightened, their focus snapping to him without question. Price wasn’t someone you ignored.

“Alright, listen up!” He slammed the mission file onto the table with a force that made the papers inside rustle. “We’ve got a mission to execute. A weapons facility deep in hostile territory. The ground team will breach and clear the place; air support will provide the cover we need. That means you, Captain,” he said, nodding at you, his gaze unflinching.

You nodded back, your stomach tightening just a little. Simple enough. The mission was straightforward — clear the skies, keep the enemy away, let the ground team do their thing. You had done it countless times. It wasn’t the mission itself that had your nerves a little on edge. It was the man sitting across from you.

“Any problems?” Price’s eyes scanned the room, taking in each of the team members. His gaze lingered for a moment on you, and then on Ghost. But neither of you said anything.

“No, sir,” you replied, your voice steady, though you couldn’t stop the way your fingers gripped the edge of your seat. You weren’t exactly a stranger to these kinds of situations, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.

Price’s gaze slid to Ghost then, who grunted in response but didn’t speak. The tension between the two of them was palpable. It was like they were communicating without saying a word, an unspoken understanding that you weren’t a part of. Ghost didn’t even look up at Price, as if he was too busy running through the mission in his head. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was already preparing for the worst.

“We move out in two hours,” Price continued. “Make sure you’re ready. Ghost, you’re the point man. I’ll leave the rest of the details to you two.” He nodded at both of you before turning on his heel and walking out of the room without another word.

You glanced at Ghost again, but this time, there was something different in his eyes. A flicker of something. It was so brief, you almost convinced yourself you imagined it. But for the first time since you entered the room, you felt like he was acknowledging you in some way. Maybe it was the way his jaw tightened, or how his gaze seemed to linger just a little longer than necessary.

You weren’t sure, but you knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t going to be easy. You were going to have to prove yourself to him. Everyone knew that working with Ghost meant earning his trust, and trust wasn’t something he gave out freely.

The room emptied out soon after Price left, and you found yourself alone with Ghost. The silence stretched between you like a thick rope, taut and ready to snap at any moment.

“Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me,” you finally spoke, your voice cutting through the quiet. “But I’m here to do my job. Just like you.” You knew you were walking a fine line. You didn’t want to provoke him, but you needed to make it clear. You weren’t intimidated. Not by him. Not by anyone.

Ghost didn’t respond right away. He kept his eyes forward, scanning the mission files Price had left on the table. His fingers brushed over the edges of the papers, but his mind was somewhere else — lost in his own thoughts. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

“Just keep your head in the game. Don’t get in my way,” he muttered, voice low, but there was a certain finality to it. A warning, maybe. Or maybe just his way of setting the boundaries. You weren’t sure.

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Don’t worry, Ghost. I’m used to flying solo too.”

At that, his head snapped toward you, his eyes darkened behind that damn mask. “We’ll see about that.”

And just like that, the challenge was set.

As you walked out of the briefing room, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this mission was going to change everything. You had a hunch that, somehow, you and Ghost were going to collide in ways you hadn’t anticipated. You didn’t know what it was going to look like, but you were certain of one thing — it wouldn’t just be the mission that made this complicated.

It was him.

It was always going to be him.

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limethefirst · 2 days ago

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Hi! How are you? I was looking for people writing movie shadow after I saw the movie and hoped I could submit a request for you? Can we maybe have shadow with a reader who is a alien hedgehog like him found after him? Shadow when he met the reader takes her in as his own and helps to in a way raise them. After the accident they both were put under statis and met up again in the base 50 years later after he and she had escaped?

Remember Me

pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x Hedgehog!reader (platonic)

warnings: spoilers

summary: Shadow takes it upon himself to look out for you even after being frozen for 50 years

a/n: slowly getting back into the writing groove yes!! if i wrote things for other fandoms would you guys burn me at the stake or not❤️

Shadow was used to feeling alone, being the only alien hedgehog constantly surrounded by scientists who saw him as some type of experiment was draining. Of course he had Maria and for her he was forever grateful but she didn't understand how he felt, no one really could. Until you came along, another alien hedgehog that arrived the same way he did, and was now viewed just like he was.

By all means, Shadow, was not considered approachable. He was only ever willingly around Maria and Gerald, and even Gerald was often pushing it, but when you showed up it was hard to catch him alone. He was basically your caretaker, a task he gave himself after seeing how nervous you felt around everyone and how you weren't exactly sure how to regulate the powers you also had.

You sat next to Shadow as Maria put on a new movie she'd found, 'Godzilla', it was called. You didn't like it, it was about an alien, an evil one who destroyed a place on earth called Japan. It made you feel slightly, self conscious? Even though you yourself wouldn't do that or ever thought of committing violent acts against people. Shadow seemingly noticing your discomfort nudged you, drawing your attention away from the self deprivation you were feeling. He looked down at you, giving you a gruff nod, almost like he could read your mind.

His gaze never left your eyes, silently communicating. It was easy to tell what he wanted to say, 'You're not a freaky monster alien who will go and tear up Japan.' Or something along those lines.. the latter was funnier though. Maria glanced over at you two, noticing the subtle communication but also the slight sadness you both had inn your eyes. Although he didn't show it as much, Shadow felt slightly the same upon seeing the movie.

He knew that feeling all to well, he'd seen it, in the eyes of the scientists, guards, everyone who worked here. They thought he was dangerous, and he hated it. Which was why he was determined to make sure you didn't feel the same, because he wasn't sure if he could handle knowing that you also felt like you were a danger, something that was a weapon.

The nights dragged on, and he made sure to keep an eye on you, silently at least. He will never openly show how much he cares. He just will care, and that's good enough for him, although Maria could tell he cared.

Then that night came, where Maria was gone, and so were you. They'd taken Maria from him and grabbed you, pulling you away from him. God, he couldn't stand it, the tears that fell as you screamed for him. He would've tried to do something if it weren't for the fact he was in shock, he'd witnessed one of his closeted friends die in front of him and now he had to watch as they dragged you away, putting you in a small cage as your small hands tried to reach out to him.

Finally there was silence, it was restless, a restless silence that he had to endure for 50 years. Until he was woken up, and all that consumed him was rage. While on the other side of the containment chambers, you'd also woken up, but instead of feeling anger coursing through you, it was fear. You looked around the barren room, the alarms were sounding, and everything was flashing red, suddenly a loud thud broke your nervous train of thought.

You're eyes widened slightly as something punched down the wall, you stepped out of the tube that held you, the liquid used to keep you asleep was drained, leaving your quills wet. The dust slowly began to clear revealing a figure you longed to see since that dreadful night.

"Shadow?.." You're voice slightly trembled as you spoke that name, trying to see him through the red flashing room. Shadow looked at you, his gaze was unwavering but it slightly softened seeing that you were still alive, and unharmed.

He let out a small sigh, his shoulders untensing at your voice, "Let's go," it was rough but his eyes betrayed him. He was grateful, happy to see that you, at least, had survived. He wasn't going to let what happened to Maria happen to you, he swore on that, nothing would harm you.

#x reader #shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog x reader #sonic 3 #shadow x reader #sonic 3 x reader #sonic movie universe #sonic movie 3 #sonic fandom #shadow #fanfiction #fanfic #writers on tumblr

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dulcescorderitas · 1 day ago

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it was late when you stumbled up the gravel driveway to the kent farmhouse, the cool night air doing nothing to sober the haze clouding your mind. the porch light was on, a soft yellow glow that made the house feel impossibly warm and inviting—just like clark. your clark. you could already picture him inside, probably reading or fixing something, being his usual annoyingly perfect self.

“claaaark,” you called, your voice dragging as you pushed the screen door open with more force than necessary. it banged against the frame, and you winced, giggling at your own clumsiness. “clark, where are you? i need youuuu.”

the sound of heavy, familiar footsteps thudded through the house, and a moment later, clark appeared in the doorway, his brows furrowed in confusion. “(y/n)? what are you… are you drunk?”

you flopped against the doorframe dramatically, looking up at him with what you were sure was the most pitiful expression you could muster. “maybe,” you said, dragging the word out. “but it’s not my fault, clark. it’s… it’s tequila’s fault. and also, you weren’t there, and i missed you.”

his frown softened immediately, replaced by something warmer, something that made your chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “you missed me?” he asked, stepping closer and gently taking your arm to steady you. his touch was so solid, so grounding, that you leaned into him instinctively.

“so much,” you whined, pressing your forehead against his chest. “you’re always off saving people or… lifting tractors or whatever it is you do, and i’m just… lonely.”

his arms came up around you, warm and secure, and he let out a soft chuckle. “first of all, i don’t just lift tractors,” he said, his voice full of that teasing affection that made your heart flutter. “and second, you could’ve called me. i’d have come running.”

you tilted your head back to look at him, pouting. “but i wanted to see you. and hug you. and…” your fingers fumbled with the buttons on his flannel shirt, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “and maybe do a little more than just kiss you.”

his blush deepened, spreading up his neck, but his hands stayed firmly on your waist, steadying you. “(y/n), you…” he trailed off, his voice soft but cautious. “you’re not exactly in a clear headspace right now.”

“but i’m so frustrated,” you whined, leaning up to nuzzle into his neck, your lips brushing against his skin. “you’re always running off, being all heroic and perfect, and i… i just want you, clark. right now. please? i want you to…” your voice dipped lower, a sultry edge creeping in despite the slur, “just take me upstairs and fuck me already.”

his breath hitched, and for a moment, you felt his hands tighten on your hips, his resolve wavering. the tension in the air was thick enough to choke on, but then he pulled back slightly, cradling your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “hey,” he said gently, his voice steady and full of warmth. “you know i want you too. you have no idea how much. but not like this, not when you’re like this. you’ll thank me tomorrow, i promise.”

“i won’t,” you grumbled, but your words lacked any real conviction. “you’re too good, you know that? too damn good.”

“and you’re tipsy,” he replied with a small smile, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “but we’ve got forever, remember? there’s no rush.”

“i hate when you’re right,” you muttered, but you let him guide you toward the couch, where he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“get some rest,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “and tomorrow, we’ll talk. properly.”

even in your hazy, frustrated state, you couldn’t help but smile at him. “fine,” you said, sinking into the couch and letting the warmth of the blanket and his presence lull you into a drowsy calm. “but you’re not getting out of this forever thing, kent.”

“wouldn’t dream of it,” he said softly, watching over you as you drifted off, his love for you shining in his eyes.

taglist: @legalmente-loca @soangelbaby

#lamy garden #clark kent x reader #smallville x reader #clark kent #tom welling #smallville #clark kent fluff #clark kent smut #clark kent x you #clark kent smallville imagine #clark kent x y/n #superman comics #clark kent x female reader #superman #smallville clark kent #smallville 2001 #red!clark kent #clark #kent

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r0-boat · 2 days ago

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Satan NSFW Alphabet

Well shit You guys really wanted it...

Here you go.

Cw: rough sex, hitting, spanking, mentions of bruises and bleeding.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Am I surprising you, but Satan is actually pretty good with aftercare? Satan will press his lips and look at any injuries he gave you. He'll hold you close and snuggle into your neck. You hear a soft rumble from his body, which he adamantly denies. He becomes incredibly protective and clingy for a while. Any King or not tries to rip you away from his arms we'll have a one-way trip to Lucifer's office. If you try to leave to go to the bathroom or get some water, he will always have his arms around you to the point where he's following you around like a clingy cat.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

As much as he hates to admit it, He agrees with Mammon's obsession with your ass. Tight, pert, and soft; enough flesh to sink his teeth into and leave red with his handprints. He likes the way he jiggles when he slaps it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Yes. In you, on you, breeding you, in your mouth as long as He gets to empty his balls with his favorite stress toy.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Every demon has at least one dirty secret. Satan is no exception. As much as he likes to take pride in being your protector. He can't ignore his sadistic desires. To really mark your skin red and purple. To see The fear and pain in your eyes as you try to squirm away from him.

How badly he wants to make you bleed and lick up your blood.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

The way his hands clench when he thinks about slapping you across the face when you're sucking him off.

Satan had had lovers before and after he met Solomon. But once he had you, he kind of ghosted all of them. They're pissed, but honestly,, he could care less. You're all that matters to him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style, cowgirl, face sitting, Anything that frees his hands to do more.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

No, Satan likes to lose himself during sex; if you break his concentration, he will get mad at you. If you have enough energy to school off with him while he's fucking you then he's not doing his job.

Satan shaves once every month or two and then lets everything grow out.

Personally, I feel like Satan should have more hair than he actually does (happy trail, facial hair, etc.), mainly because depressed people go through episodes where they just don't care about how groomed they are for days on end. He's not like Asmodeus, who purposely doesn't was; sometimes, he just can't bring himself to. If he isn't working, he's destroying his own stuff or killing angels for fun.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He only started to care about grooming when you started living in Gehenna. Depressed Satan starting to grow a beard and mustache because you spent two weeks too long in Hades. Only to shave it all off and be happy as a puppy when He hears you're coming back.

Satan has no idea what intimacy even is. He practically froze up when you cuddled up against his body. Even if you tell him what to do what you probably have to He will be extremely hesitant out of fear of screwing up somehow.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't jack off; I know it's surprising, but hear me out. He rather just have a body to fuck; He breaks all of his sex toys in minutes when he's using them and his hand just makes him even more pent up and pissed off.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Other than spanking, Satan has a massive sadism/masochism. Kink, You better hurt him like he hurts you. He doesn't want to have it any other way.

A huge brat tamer, if you try to tease him, he'll take that as an invitation, and trust me, you don't want to know what he's about to do to you.

Fucking loves Free Use

One time when you told him how big his cock was, he instantly came; he came so fast and so hard it bruised his ego, and he was staring at the ceiling thinking about what just happened.

New Kink unlocked🔓 Praise Kink

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere he damn pleases; He's the fucking king. In fact, he'd rather it be in public so he can give a message to other devils to fuck off.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anger, His anger feels him up so full that it goes straight to his dick.

Teasing, he'll take it as a challenge. Satan always takes the bait, hook, line, and sinker. He can't help himself. You send one obscure image of yourself; he doesn't care where he is, in the middle of a war or in a meeting. He will be there in 10 minutes, approaching your location rapidly.

Satan 🤝 Levi jealous sex

Unlike Levi, Who stews in jealousy before acting; Satan just immediately explodes.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Get that softy fluffy sex shit out of here.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Sit on his face... Don't put 10% of your weight down; sit on it. SIT ON IT! MAKE SURE HE DOESN'T BREATHE!

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough till you can still feel him for days.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Anywhere; everywhere; anytime, if he sees that ass and he's horny it's free real estate.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Oh yeah, of course, he'll experiment. It's not that he takes risks; it's that he doesn't care for them.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As long as he damn pleases. Even if he is sore,, he'll keep going.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No fuck those pieces of plastic bullshits; if he catches you using one, he'll use it till it breaks and then say. "I'm not replacing shit. You should be using me; I'm your dildo!!"

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Satan doesn't tease, and Satan does not like teasing. Teasing him is considered a challenge. Satan rather just fuck you till you stop pissing him off. If you really want to tease him you have to tie him down and pray the bindings don't break.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He growls like a feral animal; if Asmodeus fucks you like an animal in heat, then Satan fucks you like an animal with rabies; Yes, he does bite.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

As possessive as Satan is he actually doesn't mind sharing you with only a few people.

The kings if he's in a good mood;

Sitri; but he can't touch you; he must sit and watch.

Amy; Sitri must also be there for free entertainment; Satan will happily stir the pot and let Amy touch or fuck you just to watch the Sitri seething in jealousy and anger.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Satan is a shower, not a grower; As pale as mayonnaise, when his cock is hard, his tip flares so red. It's kind of fun to watch.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His yearning for sex grows with the wrath inside him. You guys can do the math.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Very rarely he will ever feel exhausted enough to fall asleep but usually you guys are doing it all the way till morning.

#smut #Satan definitely has rabies #whb #what in hell is bad #whb x reader #whb satan #whb satan x reader #wihib #what in “hell” is bad?

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love-byers · 2 days ago

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i fear no byler quote will make me more unhinged than:

"You guys think he's okay?"

"He's always weird when he has to go in."

"I don't know. He's quiet today."

"He's always quiet."

"..."

LIKE HOLY FUCK

the amount of depth this scene adds to mike and will's relationship despite only being a few seconds long is INSANE. my film student oomf @reo-bylerwagon has told me that it's a real strategy to find the exact right wording that adds this depth. there's only so many lines and so many scenes, so every last bit has to count towards something.

there is so much here

1. mike being closest to the camera while the others hang back

2. mike's expression being more concerned than the others

3. "you guys think he's okay?"

dustin is worried about his friend, but he's unsure. he seeks out lucas and mike's opinions.

4. "he's always weird when he has to go in."

lucas has noticed that will is noticeably different on days he has to go to the lab. but he reassures dustin. this is expected. will is always a bit off on days he knows he has to go in, because he hates it.

5. "i don't know. he's quiet today."

mike isn't so sure. will isn't acting the way he always does on the lab days. there's something else. he's noticeably quieter. mike suspects that this isn't just because of the lab, that maybe will isn't okay.

6. "he's always quiet."

lucas knew will was acting weird, but he didnt notice any difference in how quiet he was being. will is always quiet. that's just who he is. that's not a factor in his weird behavior, at least to lucas.

will is always quiet. every day. he is a quiet person.

there are several layers here that make it difficult to notice these shifts in will's behavior. he is a naturally quiet person. there is a known explanation for why he acts weird on certain days. and this is one of those days. no one else thought will was outside of his norm.

but still, somehow, mike knew that wasn't it. he noticed that will was acting different even on the day where he ALWAYS acts different. he noticed that will was being slightly quieter than usual even though he is ALWAYS quiet every single day. he knew this was new behavior. he knew there was something else going on.

but he doesn't voice this, he just watches will silently from behind the fence, clearly deep in thought. he's worried.

i'm sorry but why shove it down our throats that mike is more attentive to will than his other friends and clearly cares for him more and wants to protect him just for it to all mean absolutely nothing in the end? he is even more attentive to will than he is to el.

like how are they going to explain mike's behavior? cause like they still have to do that

"will is just his best friend" there's a whole scene in s1 where mike says they're ALL his best friends

"he's known will the longest" he also says he doesn't treat his friends any differently because of how long he's known them

literally what else is there?? is will just his extra special platonic bro soulmate???

ok so will was misled by mike's attentive caring and supportive behavior that was exclusive to him and developed romantic feelings. and mike is like that...just cause. this whole plot was just a tool to help will realize his sexuality and he'll get over mike and mlvn will be endgame.

a few problems with that...

WILL HAS BEEN BULLIED AND ABUSED AND CALLED GAY/GAY SLURS HIS WHOLE LIFE. unfortunately, and fellow queer people will understand, it's easier to come to terms with what you are when it's been spouted in your face your whole life. if wills love for mike was just to help the audience understand that he's gay, what was the point of all the homophobic abuse and hate crimes and all that? just cause? alright. noah has said will realized his feelings for mike "later on" but quickly cut himself off. will realized his FEELINGS, not his sexuality. will wasn't crying in the van because he doesn't want to be gay, or because he's coming to terms with the fact that he's gay. he was crying because he is deeply in love with someone who he thinks will never love him back. this isn't about self acceptance. will has accepted himself. he's accepted what he is. he's accepted his feelings for mike. that's not the problem. that's not why he's hurting. he's hurting because she's he's heartbroken.

like i'm sorry but it's ridiculous to pretend like you don't see how anything besides byler endgame makes 0 sense. bc it really doesn't and you don't even have to be a writer to see it

#byler #stranger things #will byers #mike wheeler #byler endgame #byler rant #byler analysis #anti milkvan #stranger things 4 #milkvan is bones

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mask131 · 9 hours ago

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I have not looked at all the notes below, just at these pictures.

This discussion, unfortunately coming up in the lights of all these horrible things, is something I do wish to explore further and that I already kind of felt before - see my last post about Good Omens, as the TV show adaptation and Gaiman's handling of it DID make me doubt some of his claims. While I do believe the first season was made with respect and care for Pratchett's work (despite failing to do justice to Pratchett for me, but at least there was a real sincere effort there), I also believe that with the additional seasons Gaiman was milking the non-existent cow that was the unwritten sequel and that we can't fully trust what he claims when it comes to idea planned since the early beginning and stuff he might want to add or project or on his own... But that's something that tends to happen with every book that is co-authored, so I won't go down there much further.

What I DO want to stress however is that, while yes we can put into doubt how much Gaiman was truly close or "in the papers" of Pratchett (a part of it isn't just Gaiman's own invention, another part is also a lot of popular culture projection and fan assumptions, we can't throw the stones just at Gaiman, there was also the whole cult following thingy at play), we also have to put into doubt WHO is currently putting into doubt the Gaiman-Pratchett connections.

I'll explain: Internet seems to have a very short-term memory, and people tend to forget that not so long ago transphobes literaly tried to mass-gaslight people (and gaslighted themselves) into thinking Pratchett would be against trans people, when Pratchett literaly wrote an entire book about accepting trans people. And for all Gaiman has done or has been accused of doing, we can't forget that he was one of the two fervent defensors of Pratchett - or rather one of the two major voices to denounce the absolute craziness of these people (alongside Pratchett's own daughter). And that's something people did NOT like. A lot of people got angry at Gaiman for "pretending to know" what Pratchett would think...

... This is exactly the same kind of talk that is starting to appear here and there. For very different reasons, from different people, but it is still the same doubt and so it means there's a bridge here ready to be crossed. The same way there is a certain amount of people who try to use the Gaiman scandal to "justify" or "defend" J.K. Rowling, and turn a very serious case of sex crime accusations into somehow a "turns out the transphobe was right all along".

Don't be fooled, the people who are outraged, angry or mobbing against Gaiman aren't not all defendors of women's rights, or betrayed fans, or even just decent people shocked at such a case. Some don't even want to know the truth. There's a lot of people who are ready to pounce and get in the fight just because they hated the guts out of Gaiman for being against transphobia, and for gay people, and for a lot of other causes they want to persecute or eliminate.

There was an interesting thread on Bluesky dissecting Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's relationship

TL:DR - It seems like Gaiman has been exaggerating the level of closeness between them for YEARS

#reblog #neil gaiman #terry pratchett

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dolphin-diaries · 3 days ago

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Detrans/Uncis (Part 2)

Originally published on Dolphin Diaries.

My first steps on a detransition journey were underscored by a peculiar mantra: “but I’m not detransitioning though.” I don’t feel like a man, so I’m not a trans man, but I’m still taking hormones, so I’m not detransitioning. I’m getting laser, but I’m not doing anything to my voice—hold on, actually I am. I’m lowering my dose of testosterone, actually, but I’m still taking it, and it’s not like I’m a woman. Only I want to be gendered by strangers as a woman, but that’s different. Actually I’d hate to have any further changes from T, so I’m not taking it at all—but I’m still not detransitioning though. Actually, could you speak of me as she? And her, too? No detrans though.

At a certain point it started to approach total absurdity. My friends and loved ones, well-versed in the queer gender soup, said nothing of it, but I am myself strongly averse to repression, denial, and self-deceit. So I was the first to say I was wrong. The first to say, “I am, though.” And at no point, from the beginning to the end of my epistemic conga, have I encountered any meaningful pushback from my close circles. No implications of betrayal, no cold shoulders, no silence when I walk in the room.

So why the mantra, then? Why was I so averse to the idea?

A large part of that was the politicisation of detransition; how indelibly it is associated with the Right—I said as much in my first essay. On a personal level, though, it was trivial to realise I wasn’t doing a grift. I was confident I hadn’t been brainwashed into anything. I’ve never had any meaningful contact or affiliation with any sort of gender-conservative person or movement.

And I did encounter pro-trans detransitioners. Some of them sniped back at the right-wing ones, some merely told their stories independently. Regardless, they—just like me—did not receive great or meaningful pushback from their trans friends, nor even strangers. They weren’t always understood or necessarily celebrated, but they were taken at their word, believed, and more or less respected as much as any gender deviant. Before I had any thoughts to detransition myself, I had seen detrans people beyond the pale of the rhetoric multiple times, and…

And I hated them. They made my skin crawl. I was never rude or condescending, and as those encounters were online-only, it was trivial to maintain respect and civility. I also realised I had no real cause to hate them. They’d done nothing wrong, nothing wrong at all. It was easy enough to say that in principle, when they talked in the abstract, but when they spoke of their bodies, their lives, the flesh and blood of it all, I felt such visceral revulsion as I might’ve never felt before.

Or have I? Have I known this already, this knee-jerk lip curl, this morbid disgust with another’s aberrant sex? This idea in my mind, spreading like cancer, that these people were wrong? That they’ve violated something inviolable? And how civility and compassion chiselled this violent core into arrogant pity towards an untouchable other?

No, I have known this. And not such a long time ago.

The Body Horror

When I first came out as trans to my university class—cis-majority if not totality, naturally—the perverse fascination with my body was hard to escape. They were mostly polite, of course. My university was very ‘decadent Westian’ (pardon the quasi-inside joke). We were hip with it. Nevertheless—

“It’s okay for you, of course, but if my future children—”

“You mean to say you date women? How do you—”

“You mean to say you date men??”

“I wasn’t looking at you like that in the bathroom—I mean—uh—”

You don’t need to say it outright. Sometimes you don’t need to say a thing at all. I see it. I know.

That’s to say nothing of the doctors’ dehumanising dissection and the conservatives flashing the least flattering post-operative pictures like they’re gore. As a transsexual, you don’t even need dysphoria; you will be informed of your physical monstrosity in great detail and in every possible manner, from the subtlest glance to the bloody megaphone.

You learn to see transsexual bodies this way very young and not voluntarily, but I was not just any random person. I transitioned aeons ago, and I did not find the flesh of my fellow transsexuals a subject of psychosexual fascination anymore. We were just people. I’d learned that.

I thought I did, anyway.

That’s the thing about the biases that systemic oppression seeds and wields. They are, in my experience, nothing less than psychosocial cancers. Leave one cell alive, and they will surely regrow. Maybe into a new shape, maybe into something old, but they will never die left alone.

Although I’d mentally graduated to gender abolition and genderfuckery-as-political-stance, to activism, to gender constructivism and to queering everything, especially feminism, I’d first come to see transsexuality through the lens of the DSM. Not my fault or anything—that’s what was available to me. Transsexual transition, then, was first presented to me as a linear transformation, a path from A to B, at the end of which laid gender nirvana. Or, like, happiness and fulfilment, I suppose. White-people Buddhism was fashionable at that time, so please excuse my French.

So genderfuckery was all well and good, but you know, done respectably. For me, that was performing picture-perfect transsexuality, just a little spiced-up. So long as I still appeared cis. Anything that marked me as ‘clocky’ was unseemly; although I no longer needed to see any doctors about it, I’d been trained to sniff out such features and weed them out for the sake of gaining medical access. But that’s not the only way ‘respectable gender’ is ensured in queer circles. I’ve also observed it to be an absence of transsexuality. That is, gender is to be fucked with in words and pronouns and haircuts and porn—but to transition about it would be kind of gauche, don’t you think? A little gender-conformist?

Different outcome, but for the purposes of this discussion, same principle: it is disgust with transition. Visible transition, obvious transition; transition at all. My case was not altogether different from ideological non-transitioners; it was just modified to accommodate for some alteration of sex.

After nearly a decade of virilising HRT, my detransition wasn’t simply a matter of changing my name and putting on lipstick. That would just make strangers say ‘yas gurl.’ No, if I wanted to live as a woman beyond my immediate social circle, I needed to make more invasive changes. More than that, I wanted those changes. I didn’t merely wish to say I’m a woman—I wanted to look in the mirror and believe it.

The first truth a detransitioner learns is this: to detransition, you must transition again.

Again?!

Oh, it’s not the same as your first time ‘round, sure. Not just because of the difference in desired sex; if you’ve never had your gonads removed and have no prior issues with hormone production, you can simply cease to take HRT and stop depending on the vagaries of medical supplies. Doctors will, generally, be a little more understanding of your desire to change sex. Often, from their perspective, you’re not changing it; you’re fixing it. So if you were allowed to take the so-called ‘cross-sex’ hormones, you’ll probably be allowed the ‘same-sex’ ones. Conversely, because no such thing as a ‘detransition procedure’ usually exists, it’s a dice roll if any surgery will be covered by the state, your insurance, or anything. Yes, you’re ‘fixing’ your sex—but the fact you’ve ‘damaged’ it at all renders you a bit of an unreliable witness to your own mind. A little bit crazy, you could say. Isn’t it all quite literally your own fault?

However, the day-to-day mundanities of detransition would be highly recognisable to any trans person. Indeed, I got all the ideas on how to relieve my gender dysphoria from my transfem friends. I learned of laser hair removal from them, and they advised me on voice training. Some of the professionals that serviced me had no idea I was detrans—how would they? Kind of an odd thing to randomly bring up while getting your beard fried.

‘Detrans woman’ is not a legible social category (nor any other kind of detrans person). People know what these words mean—at least, if they’re up on the latest gender lingo—but they don’t truly know what that looks like. Maybe they imagine a particular grifter when you say ‘detrans,’ maybe it’s just a void—but it’s never you. No one will ever assume that’s what you are.

So how does a detrans woman move through the world? She passes, of course. She is either assumed to be a cis woman, having worked to file off any signs of testosterone’s magic touch, or she stands out with those features. If she transitioned after adolescence, she might have a leg up on passing, but should a stranger’s transvestigation radar starts beeping, they will surely scan her for other hints. Sometimes they’ll find what was never there, and sometimes they’ll decree a feature that occurs in all women, cis and trans, a sure sign of inborn manhood. I’ve always had a visible Adam’s apple, for instance, but it didn’t use to be proof I was born a man. Now, though, take that and a bad voice day, and I don’t have a leg to stand on.

And if someone decides I don’t belong in a women’s bathroom, do you think it’ll help if I cry I was born to piss here?

Here’s the second truth a detransitioners learns: it doesn’t matter how many times you transition, to what end or for what reason. If you do it at all, you will never be cis again. It’s the real red pill—the one the Wachowski sisters intended, not what the chuds on the internet made of it. Your body, your social and legal history, your continuity of self—it is different now. Not the way it’s supposed to be. Changing sex at all was never meant to be.

Regime and Treachery

Um-actuallying people who think I’m a trans woman will not help me under most circumstances. It won’t help with a strange man in an alley, and it won’t help with an employer that discovers my last manager knew me under a male name. In one case nothing but a good run will help, and in the other—come on now, they won’t think any better of me.

It will not make me cis, and it doesn’t help—under most circumstances.

Detrans women aren’t the only ones which may be assumed for trans women. Cis women that never touched a drop of testosterone get transvestigated too—not nearly as frequently, but it happens all the same, and regularly. The case of Imane Khelif is one that probably jumps to mind first these days, but she is perhaps in the minority of women that never responded to such accusations by loudly proclaiming she is completely and utterly unlike those filthy transsexuals—she is a real woman!

Detrans women have the whole transsexuality thing in common with trans women, of course. But they aren’t quite the only ones—intersex women that were assigned female at birth are also often assumed to be transsexual. They are also subject to severe medical violence and neglect. Some require exogenous hormones to stay healthy. Some wish to take ownership of their body via voluntary sex alteration, for a change. It is rather transsexual-like, all in all.

But yet you will not search long to find similar underbus-throwing. The AFAB intersex woman is not like that trans woman—she deserves gender-affirmative treatment. She’s a real woman. The birth certificate said so.

And so too the detrans woman, despite all her history, despite the indelible mark of transsexuality, looks at the dangling carrot of Real Womanhood—and like a dog, jumps.

She will never be allowed the full extent of it. It is irreversible damage, after all. That’s important. The detrans woman that betrays her sisters—her class, even—must forever cry about the wounds transition left on her, must never heal from them. And trust me, the cis aren’t nice about it behind her back. The detrans woman is promised a shred of cis-ness, of real-ness—but only so long as she divorces herself from all things transsexual. Loudly, repeatedly. The moment she stops, she will be reminded: she too is transsexual. She has seen sex/gender for what it is; her body is evidence. She has eaten of the tree of knowledge. It’s only at the regime’s great mercy that she can peek into Eden—but god forbid, never enter.

Because what would happen if the ‘damage’ wasn’t irreversible? If society allowed the detrans woman to be a woman wholly and totally—its woman, real woman? Why, it would mean sex can be changed without repercussion. It would mean you could leave gender.

It wouldn’t quite mean that trans women are women and trans men are men—it would only allow that your birth sex can be ‘returned to.’ But if even that much was permitted, it would make transition no longer a threat. You could do it and come back just fine, see? What’s there to fear? Why not just try it? And if you can just try it, just leave and come back as you please—how can you force people to obey gender?

It would mean I could opt out of womanhood any time. Of the mandate of reproduction, of subordination, of sexual and domestic servitude—of the constant fight to break free of those things. I could opt out even if I didn’t like being a man. I’d always have one foot back in the door, if I pleased. And that’s the thing about the patriarchy: women must never be allowed to leave. Or to desist, or to fail. For that they must be punished. Want fewer lashes? Kick the weaker bitch out the door.

Cis-ness is a regime. A status quo. To define it merely by the relationship to birth-assigned sex is erroneous—intersexness reveals this, but if you’re the kind of person who thinks the intersex are some sort of rare and bizarre exception (they’re not), perisex detransitioners must surely hammer the nail home. To be cis is not merely to self-identify as the sex on your birth certificate; who’s even looking at those? It is to live in accordance with your biological destiny, and every social law that entails. This destiny is assigned at birth, yes, but it does not end there: it follows you all the way.

Cis-ness is not an identity—it is a reward for doing as you’re told.

The Freedom of Sex

It is obvious, then, why detrans medical care is a pain to get even though you’re complying with your birth sex assignment. That is the true engineer of detrans misery, of dysphoria and resentment. To come to dislike the features you’ve acquired during transition is one thing—but to be prevented from changing them? To be looked at like a lunatic? To not know what to do, because information about de/transition and how it works is so understudied and obscured?

If transition was easy, known, free—more people would detransition, certainly. But that wouldn’t mean much. Because they’d be people like anyone else. Their bodies—transsexual bodies—would be just the same, just as worthy. They would be real.

The implications are even greater than that. Freedom of sex, as Andrea Long Chu puts it, means a freedom to change anything about your sex, in any way, for any reason, without restriction. Not the A->B path I was first taught under the illusion of two wholly distinct, non-intersecting sexes—rather, the tweaking of individual aspects. It is to really examine how sex works and take it apart on your person. It is what some trans people already do, with microdosing and what you might call small acts of detransition. If you don’t like the beard after T, why not zap it off? If you want to be on oestrogen but don’t like the breasts—double mastectomy works just the same regardless of initial sex. The idea of customisable, ‘nonbinary’ transition is one that’s gained prominence in recent years, even as attacks on all transition have exponentially increased.

Linear transition was written in an attempt to enforce a kind of gender austerity. Only those that really need it can get it, and so there must be competition, a hierarchy of haves and have-nots. There must be doctors that will prescribe you wrong dosages based on irrelevant research and leave you to wonder why you feel so off. You must not pick and choose the changes you want, because your sex is not for you to decide—it is to be granted to you, justified via a constant defense of self-identification. For the crime of violating sex/gender, your autonomy is branded as harebrained desire until proven otherwise. You’re not allowed to simply want something; you have to need it, hence the attempts to naturalise and essentialise transsexuality—you have to be real, you have to be born with it.

Above all you must be kept in the dark and hurting, so that any time someone suggests anything as ‘frivolous’ as the freedom to have their body as they wish, you snipe back: Shut up, vapid idiot! You’re going to hurt yourself in your stupidity! I’m not like you—I’m the one who’s really hurting!

To look at de/transition from the perspective of liberation is to ask: why? What’s the austerity for? We have the hormones, the surgeries, almost all the treatments we want, and the science isn’t calling it quits tomorrow last I checked. What horrible thing are we preventing by stopping people from doing to their sex whatsoever they wish? Are we running out of gender juice?

But of course, I already told you why. A smarter woman than me has also written extensively why. It is because sex and gender come with a fine print, a set of prescripts, which must be enforced. Irreversible damage to fertile wombs must not be allowed. The pedestal of Man must not be tarnished.

Freedom of sex, then, is the patriarchy’s anathema.

Detransition is part of freedom of sex. To accept acts of detransition as neutral is to allow that changes wrought by transition—just like naturally developed sexual characteristics—can be changed at will. Even disliked. To be free is to embrace the possibility of discontent, too; to allow oneself to do something you may regret later, and to be free to go back. To accept that nothing is final. Finality is one of the ways transition is made more difficult than it needs to be: you must be sure, must be happy with what you get—or else, it is argued, you never had a real need for it anyway.

That is plainly not true. I know that from my own example.

Transition served me well way back when. I do not know of an extant, realistic alternative that could’ve helped me as effectively. I was happy with my transition for years, and suicidally discontent before then. So who cares if transitioning proved in the end an imperfect permanent solution for me? Why must transition be held to perfection and permanence before it is allowed? It worked and it saved my life—who are you to tell me I shouldn’t have done it? And who are you to hold me hostage to it?

What if, even now, I enjoy that I’ve been constructed rather than simply born?

Not So Fast

Now that’s a nice thought, isn’t it? I can feel the gender nirvana coming on already.

Unfortunately, it can’t be that simple. To dream of a world you want, you must first contend with the world you already live in.

There’s a particular aspect that’s been largely absent from my essays so far: forced detransition and conversion therapy. In part, that’s because I argue from the perspective of a willing detransitioner with no shadow of a right-wing past or influence; a viewpoint which is lacking in the public conscience. Plenty of trans writers and thinkers already staunchly argue against forced detransition. They omit the detrans by virtue of either irrelevance or ignorance or both. When voluntary detransition is mentioned, people tend to merely point out there’s not that many of us. In actuality there’s very little statistical research to give definitive numbers, but it’s certainly true we are the minority of transitioners, and the absence of statistical evidence only further confirms: the Right are pulling numbers out of thin air.

Except, saying that is missing the point. The Right never cared about numbers. Or facts. Or logic. Their argument is that willing detransition ought to be the nail in the coffin for transition. If you retort that, um actually, there’s only half as many willing detransitioners, you still concede we exist and are a contradiction to you. That is enough to prove the Right’s point. I, therefore, wish to argue we are not a contradiction to trans rights or existence, but in fact on a continuum with both. That by virtue of our needs and lived realities, we are trans. Differently trans, but trans nonetheless. Some (trans and detrans) may not enjoy that assertion for a number of reasons, but the empirical fact is that we are irrevocably cast out of cis-ness, and we are in need of support structures that are near-identical to those of trans people. If by every function we are trans, then it’s under that name that we should be understood, because it is the only thing that makes sense and yields results.

But.

Detransition is not a neutral act in practice, even if it has the potential to be. Just like transition isn’t. Both are politicised, and the nature of detransition’s politicisation diverges from that of transition quite sharply.

In the current political climate, as trans people are being denied medical care and the anti-trans rhetoric pollutes every information space, this cannot be avoided or denied. Transition is reviled, and detransition is said to be the cure and is wielded as a punishment. Detransition-as-sex-freedom cannot be understood without also grappling with the other two kinds of detransition I distinguish based on motive and emergent needs: forced and coerced.

Forced detransition is the simplest to define. It is detransition that occurs when circumstances necessitate it as the only possible course of action, or it is altogether done unto the transitioner without any pretense of choice. The starkest example is, say, the new law in Florida which forcibly detransitions the incarcerated. But it needn’t be so wholly dystopian to qualify as ‘forced.’ Detransitions due to family or peer pressure, poverty, lack of access, or social isolation are all forced in nature, even if in the most technical sense you made the ‘choice’ to undergo it. If you wish you were still transitioning, it is forced.

Coerced detransition is a grayer area. It is motivated by an individual’s choice—not a lack of one or a pseudo-choice, as above—under circumstances in which transition is possible, but highly discouraged. You will naturally recognise conversion therapy as an extreme example, but it needn’t be so blatant. Often it isn’t.

Say, for instance, your closest circle of friends regards transition as a frivolous neoliberal excess. Or, let’s say, your cis boyfriend is perfectly happy you’re a man now, he swears, but—well, he’s not gay, you know? Just for you. It’s different with you. Except he still treats you the same way he did before your transition—but that’s a good thing, right? Good thing he still wants you at all? He would probably prefer a girlfriend, and he’s never dated men—actually, is this whole thing really that important to you? Aren’t you rushing into things? Do you really know what you want? You don’t mind if he slips up on pronouns when you’re not in the room, do you?

Or maybe your general practitioner keeps insisting any time anything is wrong with you, that it’s the hormones’ fault. The classic ‘trans broken arm’ syndrome. And when something actually might be wrong with the hormones, the solution is always to just stop HRT altogether. And the surgeries—they’re just so dangerous; look at how horrifying post-op pictures are! It’s just biology, just facts, which don’t care about your feelings (but remember: it’s only a fact if it makes you feel worse.)

In other words, the decision to go through coerced detransition is made in a state of reduced agency, often caused by social pressure and/or misinformation about transition. Nothing is explicitly preventing you from doing as you will to your sex—and so it is precisely your will which must be subverted and undermined.

Notice that I make no claim whether detransition is right or wrong for the person in question. Perhaps they would’ve arrived at this decision another way, perhaps not. The point is, they are led to believe detransition is simply more sensible, healthier, better. It is the superior choice—so of course, they make it. In the end, coerced detransition is not truly dissimilar from the forced kind. What merits it separate consideration is that it’s designed to make you relinquish your own judgement, and your very own sense of self. Under such conditions, even if you would’ve ultimately detransitioned regardless, your relationship to your sex/gender is made maladaptive, and your independence as an individual is maliciously compromised.

The needs of coercively and forcibly detransitioned people are closely aligned. The forcibly detransitioned, naturally, require that the circumstance which necessitated their detransition is removed, and that their retransition is facilitated and supported. The coercively detransitioned may or may not require the same thing—some detrans people do, in fact, discover they genuinely desire detransition in less-than-ideal circumstances—but what they certainly need is a pathway to recovery from conversion. They are to be given their agency back, as well as access to accurate information about transition and transitioners, so that they are free to make the choice to retransition or to keep detransitioning as they see fit.

Both cases run counter to detransition-as-sex-freedom, to voluntary detransition—which is to say, a choice made due to a shift in self-perception, under circumstances in which continued transition is unhindered. The needs of a voluntary detransitioner are also starkly different, and most resemble that of a transitioner. A voluntary detransitioner requires a facilitated pathway to sex modification and gender recognition, from hormones to surgeries to legal procedure. It is the same thing for which trans people fight; it need only be recognised that voluntary detransitioners are part of that fight.

Grouping voluntary and involuntary detransitioners under the same umbrella makes little sense. We may superficially share some experiences, but such an equation falls apart from the perspective of rights and needs; it obfuscates motive, absolves abusers and systemic injustice, and it smooths over radical differences in our stories and perspectives. It draws a false equivalence that either condemns voluntary detransition or celebrates forced and coerced detransition, thus making it impossible to either embrace or reject detransition in good conscience. Thus no progress can be made.

In other words, conflation of voluntary and involuntary detransition only works from the cis perspective—from the perspective of the regime, which observes its deviants and wishes them gone, and rejects understanding them on principle. From either the trans or the detrans perspective, it is nonsense.

Except…

How do you know, though? How do you know? How do you know, when everything from your very cradle is telling you trans people are aberrant for existing, and when trans life is so hard? The coercively detransitioned wholeheartedly claim total autonomy; they are not really lying; from a strictly liberal-minded perspective, they are not wrong. How exactly can continued transition be ‘unhindered’ when society is engineered to always make it difficult?

How do you really know it’s your choice and your choice alone?

We all realise the answer: you don’t. You can’t. Not with complete certainty. There’s no such thing as a pure, unadulterated, individual choice, and there’s very rarely such a thing as an unhindered transition.

We live in a world that reviles transsexuality, that denies and despises the mutability of sex and stamps out any proof that gender is smoke and mirrors. The regime of cisheterosexism seeps through every layer of society and through every aspect of life. Purely voluntary detransition is, in the strictest sense, impossible. Sex/gender is a regime, and no act under it is free; all are forced to exist and be legible within its framework, or else be totally exiled. To exist socially is to exist under sex/gender.

This is not whatsoever unique to detransition. Or detrans people, or trans people. Cis women, for instance, must grapple with what it means to be a woman when Woman is defined as subordinate to Man—even as most do not transition about it. So, too, do men grapple with what their gender means when Manhood is defined and enforced via violence towards women, other men, and the gender-deviant. Even the cissexual must contend with the demands placed on their bodies—almost all transsexual treatments originate in cissexual healthcare. There is no exit from this struggle, because patriarchal sex/gender is constructed to be all-encompassing and mutually exclusive. Woman is everything Man isn’t, and vice versa; never the twain shall meet, and no stone will they leave unturned. No matter what you do, it will be sexed, it will be gendered, and though the conclusion will shift from occasion to occasion, in any particular instance it will allow for no ambiguity. Even when someone yells at you on the street, “Are you a chick or a dude?!”—that is not ‘ambiguity.’ It’s just a longer version of a slur.

Similarly, this is not the first (nor the last) time when sex/gender alteration has been contorted and weaponised against transsexuality—that is, sex-mutability’s most blatant, most acute manifestation. The Cass Review has notably cited the existence of non-transitioning nonbinary individuals as ‘proof’ transition must be curtailed:

“Secondly, medication is binary, but the fastest growing group identifying under the trans umbrella is non-binary, and we know even less about the outcomes for this group. Some of you will also become more fluid in your gender identity as you grow older. We do not know the ‘sweet spot’ when someone becomes settled in their sense of self, nor which people are most likely to benefit from medical transition. When making life-changing decisions, what is the correct balance between keeping options as flexible and open as possible as you move into adulthood, and responding to how you feel right now?”

Doubtless, the Gender Criticals wish the nonbinary non-transitioner to be as non-existent as their more deviant sibling. But while a greater deviant still exists, those that happen to be more acceptable, more assimilate-able, are called upon to do the one thing they’re good for:

Kick the weaker bitch out.

Such too is the final fate of detransitioners under the patriarchal regime. They are to be the knife in the back of their siblings, and when those are gone, they will find their own backs perforated.

So far I have provided eloquent arguments towards clear and singular conclusions—at least, I hope you’ve found me eloquent and clear. Today, on this matter, I offer no such thing. I have nothing to offer but this: so long as transition is reviled, so long as the transsexual are persecuted in any manner at all, there is no freedom of sex and there is no neutrality. Insofar as this pertains to detransition: so long as the transsexual are persecuted, hated, and forced into obscurity, we are likewise bound to their persecution, hatred, and abandonment. So long as that holds, voluntary detransition can never be free.

What Now?

I know. I’m a killjoy. It’s a fate all serious anarchists and college dropouts must contend with: if we’re really sincere about what we think, the mood will be thoroughly murdered.

The fight is clear. The fight is needed. And, the fight is hard. But there is life to be lived in the meanwhile, and it’s worth living even if we don’t see a victory during our time. Total certainty may be impossible and foolish to seek—but you have to make choices anyway. Doing nothing is merely choosing passivity and inertia; you face the consequences either way.

So I ask again: how do you know?

If you’re someone contemplating detransition, here’s the second best thing I can offer: have the courage, the self-insight, and the compassion to face yourself and be honest. Have the intelligence and the disobedience to measure what you’ve been told about transition and transsexuality against the things you have seen and experienced. Have the audacity to be wrong, to make mistakes as many times as you need. Have the pride to ask for better things than you are offered. Have the humility to not think yourself exceptional. Above all, never relinquish the responsibility over your life and your choices to anyone or anything else. No, no one else knows any better. No, there is no easier way.

The first best thing I can offer—to anyone, detrans or not—is to tell you how I knew. In the end I speak from my own experiences, and so it’s only fitting that the message I broadcast is incomplete without a degree of testimony.

Oh, it is to my chagrin, believe me—well, kind of. For all that I love attention and getting told I write oh so powerfully well, a part of me also detests personality pieces. I’m just one woman; I don’t mean much; I shouldn’t mean much. But you must’ve wondered, right? Especially if you don’t recognise yourself in me. I’ve spoken briefly about aspects of my de/transition, and let’s say you took all that for granted, but you must’ve wondered: how did I get here in the first place? How did it feel? How does it feel? Really, truly, how? And why?

I don’t like personality pieces because I think they mine for compassion. That can be a catalyst for a great many things, but just as often I’ve had people treat me with total nicety and then vote for a politician that would kill me, or exile a child that used to be me. Compassion is common, human, and incredibly cheap.

It is also required for kinship. For comparison, for legibility. And one of the issues that plagues detransitioners is illegibility. Silence. A lack of reference by which to see yourself. Community is best known by example.

So an example I shall provide. Next time.