#you're as beautiful as the day i lost you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prael · 20 hours ago

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Day 8: Perspective

(G)I-DLE Miyeon x male reader smut

words: 6,693 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

It's all a matter of perspective. From the outside looking in, things can appear vastly different than when viewed up close and personal.

Take, for instance: Miyeon.

Now, look, you're not saying the whole image is only perspective. You wouldn't dream of undermining the fact that the girl who looks like a princess in magazines, on TV and wherever else you might see her, does in fact look every bit as much of a princess in person. The long black hair, the perfect smooth skin, the way she smiles as though she has a wonderful secret she can't wait to tell. Everything about her is as regal and poised as you'd expect.

But that's not the whole story. It never is.

There's a depth to this woman. There's a nuance to her that doesn't translate to the photos. Something you feel more than you can describe.

And, boy, you can feel it.

"God, fuck, I'm close," Miyeon whispers, her words hot against your ear. Her voice is a breathy whisper, so different from the clear tones she uses on stage. She's not singing now—there's nothing practised or perfect in the way she breathes, the way she talks to you. It's natural, and that's what makes it perfect.

Those manicured nails, adored in acrylic and fake jewels burrow into the skin on your shoulders, holding you down as she grinds atop you. Her hips move with all the skill that they do when she's performing, but there's an aggression to it that you don't see when the music is playing. This is a different type of performance—a different rhythm.

Looking up at her as she rides, you would never deny the comparisons. She's beautiful in every sense of the word, and it's hard not to get lost in the sight. There's something about the way the dim light catches her skin. It's like a spotlight on her body, illuminating every curve and dip, and all the shadows in between. It's hard to look away, and when she moves, it's like the light dances on her sweat-stained skin.

Years ago, Miyeon was always the 'lay there and take it' type (and she was so very good at taking it), but these days, there is something raw and wild inside of her. Something that you're not sure what to call, or how it started, or even how to feel about it. All you know is that when the two of you are together, there's an energy in the air that's electric. Like a storm brewing, ready to strike.

It's in the way her eyes lock onto yours as she works her hips up and down your cock, her body trembling with every movement. Her breath is ragged, and she's gasping as if she's running out of oxygen. It's in the way her thighs squeeze around your hips, and her nails dig deeper into your skin. She's riding you like it's her only purpose, her only goal, and the world could be ending around her and she wouldn't stop.

"Cum with me, please," Miyeon begs. And it's truly a beg. It's not a demand or even a polite request. It's a desperate plea, and it's all you need to hear.

Your hands find her slender waist, gripping her, pulling her down hard against you. You thrust, slamming your hips up to meet hers. It's a clash of bodies, and you're not sure where you end and she begins. You share this moment, this sensation. It's as if you're one being, one creature of lust and desire, moving in perfect sync.

Her pussy clenches around you, and her moans fill the air, a song that's just for your ears. Her body shakes, and her eyes flutter shut, her head falling back. You can see her pulse pounding beneath the surface and her chest heaves. She's lost in the sensation, and you're right there with her. You spill into her, your cock throbbing inside as she milks every last drop from you. Her nails scratch down your chest, leaving red lines in their wake, but you barely feel the pain.

When she finally collapses, her body limp and spent, you can't help but pull her close. Her head falls onto your chest, and you wrap your arms around her. Her hair is damp with sweat, and she smells of sex and perfume. She's so light on your chest, but somehow, it's the most comforting weight.

"That was—" you begin, but she stops you.

"Perfect," she whispers.

You chuckle. "Yeah."

"And also the last time."

You don't move at first. You're still breathing heavily, and you can feel her heartbeat against your skin. You're sure she can feel yours, too. You're not sure you heard her right, and you can't bring yourself to respond.

"Did you hear me?" Miyeon asks, her tone suddenly serious.

You swallow hard, then say, "This shit again?"

She sits up, and you can feel the weight of her body leaving yours. You miss it instantly, the warmth of her skin against yours, the way she fit against you perfectly. But now, she's looking down at you, and her expression is hard to read. There's a mix of emotions there, and you can't tell which one is winning.

"Miyeon—" you begin, but she cuts you off.

"Don't," she says. "Don't try to make this something it's not."

"So what the fuck is this?"

She sighs, and you can see the sadness in her eyes. "It's convenient. We have history. We know each other well, but I can't do this anymore."

You're not sure how to respond. You've done this dance before, so many times that you've lost count. And yet, every time, it still stings. You wonder if she'll ever tire of this cycle, or if it's just a part of who she is.

"Look," she says, her voice softening. "I care about you. I do. But... I can't keep doing this."

"You say that every time," you reply, your voice a mix of frustration and resignation.

She looks away, and you can see the guilt in her expression. "I know," she says. "But this time, I mean it. I can't keep hurting you like this. It's not fair to you."

It's all a matter of perspective. From the outside looking in, the two of you might look like young adults in love. Sharing intimacy and vulnerability in the rawest sense. But from the inside looking out, you can't help but feel like you're trapped in a cycle you can't break. It's like a never-ending rollercoaster, with highs that leave you breathless and lows that leave you feeling empty.

"You know what?" you say, sitting up and looking her in the eye. "I'm done with this shit. Every time things seem to settle, you blow it up. What is it? Are you scared of being comfortable?"

"It's not about that," she says, her voice defensive. She slips back a little, drawing herself off your limp cock and resting between your legs on the bed, her thigh resting atop yours. "We're touring soon and I have to prepare. I don't want you to think you'll be able to come see me, or that we can continue to do this. It's over."

"Touring, huh?" you scoff. "That's the same excuse you used before. What about when you're back from touring? What then?" You shake your head. "You drop me a text at 2 am and ask me to come over?"

She looks at you, and for a moment, you think she might waver. But then she shakes her head. "No," she says, her voice firm. "This is it. It's over."

It starts in Seoul, you've spent the last few months seeing the posters everywhere. The subway, the billboards, the bus stops, and even the side of buildings. You can't escape them. The images are larger than life, with Miyeon in the centre. She's smiling, her teeth bright white and her eyes sparkling. She's beautiful, as she always is. Around her are the other members of (G)I-DLE, dressed in matching outfits, looking every bit as perfect as she is, and yet, they pale in comparison.

You can't look away from the images. They seem to follow you wherever you go, a constant reminder of what could have been. What could have been, but never will be. It's been a month since you last saw her, and yet you see her every day.

And it's not just the posters. It's the commercials, too. You'll be watching TV, minding your own business, and suddenly, there she is. Selling makeup or shampoo or some other product you have no interest in. But you can't turn away. You're drawn to her, even though you know it's only going to hurt.

You're in the supermarket, trying to get your groceries, when you see the magazine covers. There she is, looking perfect, as always. Her hair is styled, and her makeup is flawless. She's wearing a dress that clings to her curves, and her legs seem to go on forever. It's a far cry from the way she looks when she's with you, but you can't deny that she's still beautiful.

You pick up the magazine, flipping through the pages. There she is, in an interview. She's talking about her upcoming tour and her plans for the future. She's confident and charming, as always. You can't help but read the whole thing, even though you know it's not healthy.

And now, you're in line at the convenience store, picking up some ramen for dinner. You glance up at the TV in the corner, and there she is. Performing. She's on some music show, singing and dancing with the other members of (G)I-DLE. She's in perfect sync with the others, her movements fluid and graceful.

It's not just the public images that haunt you. It's the personal ones, too. The ones you took of her, of the two of you together. You have them all saved on your phone, a constant reminder of what you had. You try not to look at them, but sometimes you can't resist. It's normally what tides you over, between the time when she calls you and in the most innocent of voices, tells you that you should meet.

There are other girls, of course. Your attempts at getting over her by getting under someone else. But the thing is, every girl in Seoul seems to want to be just like Miyeon. You go out on a date with a cute girl, she'll be wearing Miyeon's makeup and her clothes. At a club, a girl will be wearing her perfume. She's everywhere, and you can't escape her. It's maddening.

So you buy one of them a drink. Try to forget about Miyeon for a night. Even when you're between another girl's legs and she's writhing, it's the thought of Miyeon's face that pushes you over the edge. You've even tried to avoid it. You've taken girls that look nothing like her, but it doesn't seem to matter. They're all just a distraction, a way to numb the pain.

And you can't help but feel like you're going to lose your mind.

It's a rainy day when you finally see her. You're walking home from work, huddled under your umbrella, when you spot her across the street. She's walking with her head down, trying to avoid the rain. You stop, and for a moment, you're frozen. You don't know what to do. Should you cross the street and talk to her? Should you pretend you haven't seen her?

Before you can decide, she looks up and sees you. There's a flash of recognition on her face, and then a smile. A real smile. You can't help but smile back.

But she keeps walking.

It's just two days out. The opening show of (G)I-DLE's world tour. You've managed to avoid it. You've had no interest in buying a ticket. It's not the music. You still listen to them, and they put on a great performance. It's more the idea of it. You don't want to be part of the crowd, just one face in a sea of fans.

You're drowning your sorrows over a few drinks at some hole in the wall. It's a familiar place. The mood is all youthful energy. It's a record bar, and it's one you're familiar with. You've lost count of the number of times you've waited here, with Miyeon's apartment around the corner, waiting for the text to tell you it's all clear. It's not why you're here, so maybe it's a strange choice, but the records on the wall, the music pumping through the speakers and the drinks in your belly makes it easier to forget.

A girl comes and sits beside you. She's cute, in a plain sort of way. She's not trying too hard. You've been watching her since she came in. She's with a group, but they've been playing darts, and she's come over to the bar by herself. She sits and orders a drink, and for a moment, the two of you just sit there, not saying anything.

You can see her glancing at you out of the corner of your eye. You know she's interested. You know the game. You've played it before.

Maybe you could spend the evening talking to her, maybe even take her home. But the idea doesn't appeal to you. You're not in the mood. Not for her.

So opportunity passes. A man walks up, some business type in a suit. He sits on the other side of her, and the two strike up a conversation. You watch her laugh at his jokes, and he buys her a drink. There's a pang of jealousy, not over this girl in particular, but the fact that he can have this light-hearted fun without the baggage weighing over him.

He doesn't have a Miyeon-shaped hole in his head, but maybe that's just a matter of perspective.

You're not drunk. You're sure of that.

Maybe careless is the right word. You've had a few drinks, but not enough to impair your judgment. You're just a little loose, a little less concerned with the consequences of your actions. So you're pressing the button for the top floor of the apartment building you're in, and you're on your way up.

It's not an entirely conscious decision. It's more of a compulsion. You're not sure what you're going to do when you get there, but you can't help yourself. The elevator doors slide open, and you step out into the hallway.

It's late. The lights are dimmed, and the only sound is the hum of the air conditioning. You walk down the hallway, your footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors. You stop in front of the door. Apartment 1801.

You knock. There's no answer. You knock again, and this time, you can hear movement inside.

Miyeon opens the door, and for a moment, the two of you just stare at each other. She's dressed in an oversized white shirt, and her hair is messy, as though she's been asleep.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she asks, her eyes narrowed.

"I don't know," you reply, and it's the truth. You really don't know what you're doing here. You just know that you needed to see her, to be near her. Even if it's just for a moment.

"This is a bad idea," she says, and she starts to close the door. But you reach out and stop her, your hand on the door frame. You're not sure what you're expecting. Maybe for her to yell at you, or tell you to go to hell.

But she doesn't. Instead, she just sighs, and she steps aside, letting you in.

Things are a bit of a mess inside, you can't blame her, she's about to spend months travelling from city to city. Her suitcases are sprawled all over, clothes are laid out on the sofa, and the coffee table is covered in books and papers.

"You can't keep doing this," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. "I've got my tour starting, and we can't keep doing this. I'm leaving the country soon, so I can't keep... seeing you. You need to find someone else."

"I know," you reply, and you do. You know you can't keep doing this. You know you need to move on, to find someone else. But it's hard.

You step closer to her, and she doesn't move away. Your hands find her waist, and you pull her closer to you. She doesn't resist, and for a moment, the two of you are just standing there, breathing in each other's scent. And you can't help but think of all the times you've been in this exact position, with your hands on her waist and her body pressed against yours. You think of all the times you've kissed her, touched her, fucked her. All the times you've shared.

"I just came to say goodbye," you whisper, and you mean it. You don't expect anything from her. You're not even sure why you're here. You just know that you need to see her one last time before you say goodbye for good.

She looks up at you, and there's something in her eyes that you can't quite read. It's not anger or sadness. It's more like resignation.

"Goodbye, then," she says, and she kisses you.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative. But it quickly grows more intense. Your hands slide down to cup her ass, and you lift her. She wraps her legs around your waist, and the two of you stumble backwards until you hit the wall. Her hands are in your hair, pulling at the strands as she kisses you with a ferocity that takes your breath away.

Beneath the shirt is only a pair of panties, tight against her ass. You run your hands over them, squeezing and groping, and she moans into your mouth. Her hips grind against yours, and you can feel her heat through the fabric of her panties. You want her, and you know she wants you, too.

"Fuck me one last time," she whispers in your ear, and you don't need to be told twice. Miyeon wraps her thighs high on your waist, making you crane your neck back a little to keep kissing her, but it means you can unbuckle your trousers and push them down. Your hands are back on her ass, pulling her panties to the side, and your fingers run through her lower lips. She's wet. She's already ready for you. She always has been, from the first time to this one.

She's so light that it makes it easy to step forward and turn, now it's her turn to be pinned against the wall. Holding Miyeon by that tight little ass, you lower her onto your cock and she fits so easily that she slides down the entire length. Her head is thrown back, and her mouth hangs open in pleasure.

There's a gasp, of both surprise and pleasure as you fill her. You can feel her walls stretching around you, accommodating your size. You give her a moment to get used to the feeling, and then you start to move. You pull out almost all the way, before sliding back in, and her moans fill the air. Her body is pressed tightly against yours, and you can feel her heartbeat racing.

Her shoulders are pressed square against the wall, it's enough to support her. Her legs are tight around your waist. Every time you pull back, you draw her hips away from the wall, only to drive her back against it with every thrust. She bounces between the hard surface and your cock. It's so forceful that you're worried you might break something, and that only drives you to fuck her harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin is loud in the apartment, and you're sure the neighbours can hear, but you don't care.

You're nailing Miyeon to the wall with the sort of rough recklessness that only comes at the end of a relationship. You have no more fucks left to give about the consequences, and you're making the most of your last hurrah.

Miyeon's moaning loudly, her voice rising in pitch with every thrust. You're hitting all the right spots, and you can tell she's close. You angle your hips in the way you know she likes, and she cries out, her body shaking as she comes undone around you. You keep going, fucking her through her orgasm, and it's not long before you're close to the edge too.

Miyeon's moans are in your ear, they're so familiar. The way her body moves with yours. It's a sensation that's been burned into your memory, and you can't imagine ever forgetting it. You feel her nails scratching at your shirt. It's not enough to break skin, but you'll feel it tomorrow, a dull ache in your back.

"Give me a night to remember," she whispers, her voice breathy and desperate. "Fuck me so hard that I can't forget."

You're stumbling towards the kitchen table now, and she's clinging to you as if her life depended on it. You set her down, planting her cute ass on the glass surface. You set her back with a gentle hand on her chest, lying her flat against the surface, her hair splayed out behind her. She's looking up at you with that regal stare, the one she gives in the magazines, but it's not the perfect image you've seen on the posters. No, Miyeon's flush, and she's all the better for it.

In the most loving way you can, you tell her, "I hate you."

"I hate you, too."

Your hands are on her thighs, pushing them apart, and she's so wet that you can see it glistening on her skin. You slide into her easily, and she cries out as you bottom out inside her. You start to move, but it's uncharacteristically slow. "Take off your shirt," you tell her.

Her hands are too shaky for the small buttons but she's trying her best, starting from the bottom and working up. Even with your controlled thrusts, Miyeon is distracted and her hands slip more than once. You don't help, you just keep your grip on her thighs and watch the show.

A few buttons later the shirt is falling open at her stomach. Slender and toned, but still soft. The years of performing have given her a body worth worshipping. Every little defined line is an accomplishment of its own, and you've been there to appreciate them. You plant a hand on her abs and push her down against the table. Her hands are still struggling with the buttons.

"Come on," you say. "You're taking forever."

"Fuck you," she gasps.

You can't help but chuckle, and then you pick up the pace, fucking her a little faster, a little harder. Her hands are shaking even more now, and you're not making it any easier for her. She struggles another one open, then another, and then her shirt is open, exposing her bare chest to you.

You're not in a hurry now. You're taking your time, enjoying the sight of her naked body. Her breasts are perfect teardrops, with small, pink nipples that are hard and begging to be touched. You take one in your hand, rolling it between your fingers, and she arches her back, pressing her chest into your touch. You pinch her nipple lightly, and she cries out, her hips bucking against yours.

You're still fucking her, still driving into her with long, deep strokes, and you can feel her body start to tense up as she gets closer and closer to her release. You want to make this last, but the thing about Miyeon is that she's just so easy to make cum.

She throws her hands above her head, showing herself in all her carnal glory, and her back arches off the table. Her mouth is open in a silent scream, and her eyes are screwed shut. It's beautiful, and it's also the reason you know you're not over her. Maybe you never will be. It's not just the physical attraction, it's something more, and you're not sure what it is, but it's there.

You take hold of her ankles, pulling her legs up so the underside of her thighs rests against your stomach, and her calves lie on your shoulders. Miyeon's ankles cross behind your neck, holding on tight while you keep fucking her.

Now every thrust is punctuated by a slap against her thighs, the sound is almost as beautiful as her moans.

It doesn't matter whether she loves you, or even cares about you, and you've long learned not to ask questions that you won't like the answer to. When you both need each other the most, you find a way back together. So maybe that's love. In a strange, fucked up sort of way.

There are tears in her eyes now, and you know that they're not from pain. There's a tremble in her body, and you can tell she's about to lose it. You want to take her through it, so you take a second to adjust the angle you're fucking her at, hitting that spot that drives her crazy. It's a simple change, a different hip placement, and suddenly, you're slamming against that spot, over and over, making sure every movement is perfect.

"Don't stop, I'm-" she tries, but her words trail off into incoherence. Her body spasms and her pussy clenches around you like a vice. She lets out a strangled moan, her limbs locked in place as she shakes and shudders, lost in pleasure.

You can only admire the spectacle of it all, she is a performer after all. Her body is a work of art, every curve, every line, designed just for your eyes. This is a sight you've had many times before, and each time it feels like the first, even when it's the last.

You can't allow it to end, it's a determined thought that you repeat over and over as you hold back your orgasm, instead opting to pick Miyeon up. You carry her just a few steps until you fall back onto the sofa. The show must go on.

Her legs spread wide around your hips. You let her sit back on your lap and slowly ride you, her hips moving lazily as she catches her breath. It's not fast enough to get either of you off, but it's enough to keep the fire burning. You're leaning back, just admiring the sight of her. She looks down at you with hooded eyes, biting her lip, lost in her pleasure. Your hands explore her body, roaming over her smooth skin, feeling her muscles flex as she moves. She leans back a little further, placing a hand against your knee to steady herself. That new angle hits a sweet spot inside her, and her eyes flutter shut, her lips parting slightly.

"You really want this to be the last time you ride me?" you ask. It's not much of an argument, but you don't want this to be over.

Her movements are languid, she rolls her hips sensually, the tempo steady as she grinds against you. "It's... for the best."

She sounds unconvincing, even to herself, and her voice trails off as she loses herself to the pleasure. She leans forward again, bracing herself with her hands on your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin. She picks up the pace, her hips rocking back and forth, riding you with purpose.

"That's it," you breathe, meeting her movements with your own, pushing deeper inside her. "Don't act like you aren't gonna miss this."

Her fingers dig into your shoulders even harder, and she rides you with renewed vigour, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth hanging open. You can tell she's getting close, her body trembling with the effort, her thighs quivering around you. Her perky little tits bounce their most seductive dance, drawing your hand towards one. You cup it so perfectly in your palm and Miyeon lets out the softest of whines.

"Miss it," Miyeon pants. "But we... we can't."

You take that as the cue, you grab her waist and thrust up into her tight, warm cunt. She cries out, and you do it again, and again, and again. You slam into her, your hips lifting off the sofa, fucking her hard and fast. She's panting now, her head thrown back, her hair a tangled mess. She's bouncing on your cock, her breasts shaking with every thrust. Her thighs clench around you, and she starts to cum, her walls convulsing around you. You keep fucking her, prolonging her pleasure, milking every last bit of bliss from her.

When she finally collapses on top of you, her body spent and exhausted, you roll her over and lay her out on the sofa. She's limp, barely able to move. Her eyes are unfocused, staring up at you with a dazed expression. She looks completely and utterly satisfied. It's almost a shame that she has a flight in a few hours.

With what little energy remains, she hooks one leg over the back of the sofa, presenting herself to you. You spread her legs wider and lower your head between them.

"It's not like anyone else can make you cum like I can," you say, running your tongue along her slit. She's hot and swollen from all the fucking, but she's dripping wet, and you lap up her juices eagerly.

"That's not the point," Miyeon groans right before she clasps her thighs around your head.

If the only way you could ever make your points was between Miyeon's legs, well that would be alright by you. But for now, you settle for latching onto her clit and sucking firmly, while she writhes beneath you, her back arching off the sofa. Miyeon tastes how only Miyeon can, and you lick, suck and slurp up every drop you can get.

You keep your hands busy, roaming her perfect skin, groping her ass, her thighs, and finally, when she's so close to the edge, slipping two fingers into her tight hole. The sensation is overwhelming. You can feel her walls tighten around your digits, squeezing them hard as you finger-fuck her. You twist and curl your fingers, finding that spot that drives her crazy, and her hips buck up to meet your hand, grinding against you.

The sensation is mind-numbing, but you refuse to yield. You keep licking and sucking, your fingers pounding in and out of her. She's a whimpering mess, her hands gripping the armrest of the sofa, her knuckles white. Her eyes are screwed shut, and she's biting her lip so hard you think she might draw blood. You can feel her walls clamp down around you, and you know she's close. You press on, doubling your efforts, determined to make her cum so hard that she forgets her name. You want to ruin her.

"Please don't stop," she begs. "Just keep doing that and I'm gonna-"

As if you'd stop now. You redouble your efforts, fucking her with your fingers, curling them just right, pressing against that spot that makes her toes curl. You feel a rush of wetness as she cums, her thighs clamping around your head, trapping you there. You don't stop, you keep finger-fucking her, extending her orgasm. Her body twitches and spasms, and you keep licking and sucking, drinking down every last drop of her pleasure.

When it's finally over, you look up to see Miyeon sprawled out on the sofa. "We can't keep doing this." Her chest heaving, and she's covered in sweat. She looks completely fucked out, and you love it. It's a moment to commit to memory whenever you happen across her image, so easily found these days. You want her to remember this too.

"One last one," you say, and she shakes her head, but you already know she'll give in. She always does. Because she needs this as much as you do. One more chance to enjoy each other. She doesn't resist when you guide her into position, flipping her over so she's on all fours, presenting her perfect ass to you. Miyeon reaches back, spreading her cheeks and inviting you in, while looking back at you from over her shoulder.

Miyeon doesn't moan, she squeals in delight when you sink inside of her. If it had felt good earlier, it's nothing compared to now. She's so slick and loose from previous orgasms that you slip into her with ease, filling her up completely. Your hands grip her hips, pulling her back onto you with every thrust, and she meets you eagerly, pushing back against you.

"Do you really think you're ready to give this up?" you ask, as you pound into her, your balls slapping against her clit with each thrust. "To never feel my cock inside you again?"

"Done it before," Miyeon responds through gritted teeth. She doesn't sound certain. You wrap a hand around her neck and pull her upright, holding her flush against you. With your other arm around her waist, you pin her against your chest while she desperately rolls her hips in search of stimulation.

"Yet you came right back, didn't you?" you whisper in her ear, before letting her go. Miyeon falls forward, catching herself on her forearms. Her hands grip the armrest and you plant a firm spank on her ass. "Always do."

Miyeon stops craning her neck to look back at you, faces forward and then says probably the last thing you would expect, "I have a boyfriend."

Your motions are seized, bringing the whole encounter to a sudden, crashing halt. You don't know what to say, so you just stay there, inside her.

"You weren't supposed to come here tonight," Miyeon mutters. "We weren't supposed to do this ever again."

"So... why did you?"

"Because I'm stupid. And I can't get enough of you. It's hard to say no when you show up with that look in your eyes."

She keeps talking, but you can't hear her. Your mind is racing. Jealousy stirs in the pit of your stomach, and the urge to claim what's yours takes over.

Your hands grip Miyeon's hips, pulling her back onto you roughly. She yelps, her body jolting as you slide deeper inside her. "Then tell me to stop and I will."

There's hesitation in her response. For just a brief moment, she hesitates, like she's actually considering it.

"Don't stop."

It's all you need. Your grip tightens, fingers digging into her flesh as you pull her back onto you again and again. Your hips snap forward with each thrust, burying yourself inside her completely.

You take hold of her hair, wrapping it around your fist, pulling her head back, exposing the elegant column of her neck, making her back arch. It's beautiful, like something straight out of a painting. She whimpers, a little mewl that's equal parts pain and pleasure, and the noise only spurs you on, driving you to fuck her harder, faster, your pace relentless.

"Don't stop!" she pleads, her voice ragged, desperate.

The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the lewd squelch of your cock plunging into her wet cunt, and the creaking of the couch beneath you, all punctuated by her moans and cries, rising in pitch, her voice breaking. Each thrust seems to draw another sound from her, a symphony of ecstasy.

Her nails drag across the leather surface of the couch, as you drive into her petite frame with unrestrained abandon. You fuck her like a toy, like a tool built to extract pleasure from your cock, and she takes it because it's what she needs. What you both need. And maybe that's the root of your problem. The way you feed off each other. The way you're drawn together like magnets, no matter how hard you try to resist.

You reach under Miyeon with one hand, rubbing furious circles around her engorged clit, while the other wraps loosely around her throat. You apply pressure, not enough to cut off her air completely, just enough to make her aware of your power over her. The way she surrenders herself to you, trusting you to take her to heights of pleasure she's never experienced with anyone else, it's intoxicating.

And Miyeon knows it, the little tease. She uses it to her advantage. She uses you to fulfil her deepest desires, knowing full well that you'll oblige.

You should hate her for it. A rational person would.

You feel Miyeon tense up beneath you, her body stiffening as you relentlessly rub her clit, and you can feel her orgasm approaching, building deep within her core. She gasps, her breaths coming in shallow pants, her fingers scrabbling for purchase against the sofa. She pushes back against you, meeting your thrusts with equal fervour, her body desperate for release.

And you give it to her. Hard. Without relent. Your hand presses firmer against her clit, your other wrapped loosely around her neck, her delicate skin hot and sweaty against your palm, pulsing in time with her beating heart.

"Look at me," you grunt. Miyeon turns her head and it's all in those big beautiful brown eyes. Eyes you've gazed into so often. Eyes you've missed seeing these last few weeks. She's so close that you could lean forward and kiss her, but you resist, choosing to prolong her agony just a little longer. "Cum for me."

Miyeon obeys, surrendering herself completely. Her eyes roll back, eyelids fluttering shut as she crashes over the edge, her orgasm washing over her like a tidal wave. You don't let up, you keep pumping, driving her through it, keeping her flying high. Your fingers rub faster, harder against her sensitive nub, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. Her body shudders and shakes, her walls clamping down around you, milking you in waves. It's an incredible sensation, the way she squeezes you, and pulls you deeper into her depths, urging you to join her in ecstasy.

She's spilling down onto the sofa. Miyeon is rarely this messy, but it only happens when you really put her through the wringer, when she's so overwhelmed by pleasure that her body loses all control, giving itself over entirely to the blissful release.

She might be someone else's girlfriend now, but you're still going to fill her.

That thought pushes you past the breaking point. With a primal roar, you bury yourself inside her, bottoming out inside her depths, and you spill your seed deep within her core, coating her walls with your warmth, claiming her for yourself.

Miyeon falls limply to the cushions. She lies there, breathless, her chest heaving, her hair dishevelled. The sounds of her pleasure fade, replaced by the sounds of heavy breathing. Your chest rises and falls in rhythm with hers. You slump over her, supporting yourself on weak forearms so that you hover inches above her.

Her limp little body slips off you and onto the couch. Miyeon just lies there, panting, her chest heaving, her eyes closed. She's coated in sweat and her hair is plastered to her forehead. Her clothes are scattered all over the floor, and she lies in a pool of her own mess.

"You should leave," she whispers. You want to stay and argue the case, but you know that the ship has sailed. So you nod.

Miyeon doesn't watch you leave, she remains curled up on the sofa, with a mixture of your juices seeping out of her pussy and leaving a mess on the leather cushions. She waits until she hears the door click shut behind you to even move.

Once more for old time's sake. Once more for closure. It was fun while it lasted, but now it's over.

Though, you would argue, it’s all just a matter of perspective.

#Miyeon smut #(G)i-dle smut #male reader #kpop smut #m reader #Miyeon x reader #gidle smut #praelmas #smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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flowersforbucky · 2 days ago

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okay i have been soooo behind on my to be read fics lately and i'm so sorry 😭 i'm so glad to finally read this. it was incredibly beautiful and unique. i really enjoy your portrayal of how bucky would be in the earliest days of his recovery. i feel like i see so many fics (and don't get me wrong, those fics are great too) where he's portrayed as bucky with hints to his trauma here and there, but very rarely do i see a portrayal like this, where he's still very much in the mindset of soldat with hints of bucky sprinkled in.

more under the cut!

"There's absolutely no way that he's staying here. Have you completely lost your mind? What if he suddenly snaps or loses control and goes completely berserk, hm? What if one night those sleeper triggers buried in his brain suddenly activate and he systematically takes us out one by one in our sleep?" Tony added emphatically, his hands gesturing wildly in the air as he attempted to visualize the gruesome scenarios playing out in his mind.

i actually love tony as a character so much lol i feel like you wrote his dialogue spot on

"Come inside with me, I'll take care of you." You offered quietly, your voice gentle and reassuring as you extended your hand towards him. Your body language remained open and non-threatening, shoulders relaxed and posture deliberately casual to help put him at ease and to show him you felt no fear.

i love how reader is gentle but still direct with him because i think that's what he would need in this case. he's so used to being told what to do, i can imagine that it's more natural for him to obey a command, but the gentleness she possesses is what he deserves after never being shown that with any handler.

i love how much thought you put into what his habits would be post winter soldier. i have no doubt that you're right - i'm sure he got very little time, if any, for self care. it would definitely take him a lot of time to realize that it's okay to take longer showers and take extra time with caring for yourself.

tomato soup and grilled cheese is always a good choice <3

Gradually, the rigid tension that had defined his existence began to melt away, and he started allowing more intimate gestures of care. He let you gently brush his unruly hair into place, carefully wash his face with warm water, or trim his growing stubble for him.

ahhhh the kind of care he deserves. these are the kind of things that make me think bucky's love language would be acts of service 💕

"Мне не нравится делиться вашим вниманием. [I don't like sharing your attention]," he muttered with an undertone of possession, his lips curling into a slight frown as he gradually leaned closer to you. His silken hair delicately tickled your face as he slowly lowered himself, the tips of your noses barely grazing against each other in an intimate gesture. His lips parted ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of anticipation before he dipped his head down, warm lips pressing a tender, lingering kiss to your jawline.

AHHHH the possessiveness!!! god!!! please!!! maybe i am a tiny tiny bit fucked in the head but the thought of him being possessive over me in any state makes me so 🫠🤭🙃

The soldier was absolutely transfixed at the sight of your breasts, eyeing the soft mounds and peaked nipples as they hardened in the cool air, growing increasingly sensitive and rosy with your mounting arousal. It was like he was completely mesmerized by the sight before him, the fucking Winter Soldier, the most dangerous assassin in history, stopped dead in his tracks at the mere sight of your bare breasts.

maybe i am just delulu but i really do believe my tits could have that effect on him so thank you so much for putting my delusion into perfect words and indulging me <3

"Моя сейчас. [Mine now]," he muttered softly, his warm breath ghosting across your skin as his lips hovered mere millimeters from your own.

YES I AM YOURS YOU CAN SAY THAT AGAIN!!!

ugh you never fail to amaze me with the love and care that you put into this character.

Sugar Plums. | W.S

summary: The soldier has an attachment to you.

a/n: This came to me randomly but thought it was cute and somewhat spicy. I added some fluff to balance it all out and tried to keep the sexy scenes sweet too. I see so many fics of him being super aggressive in bed and those are great, but for me I think he'd be a little more like this. Takes place after the events of CA:TWS. Contains roughly translated Russian, native speakers can correct me if anything was translated wrong. Ty. ;; wc: 5.5k

It was so awkward.

Everyone sat frozen in place, their eyes locked on the imposing figure of the Winter Soldier as he towered behind you, his piercing blue eyes methodically scanning the room and studying each occupant with an intensity that made them shift uncomfortably in their seats.

"Absolutely not!" Tony was the first to break the suffocating silence, his voice sharp and decisive as he beat Steve to speaking by a mere second. There was absolutely no way he would even consider allowing the fist of HYDRA to take up residence in his tower, treating him like he was nothing more than some lost stray that needed sheltering. "He's not staying here, no way in hell - this isn't a halfway house for reformed assassins."

"Tony, come on. HYDRA is gone, their control over him is broken," you reasoned desperately, your voice taking on a pleading tone as you gestured toward the silent figure behind you, "He's been surviving on his own for weeks, barely getting by. Just look at him...he's exhausted, malnourished, and clearly needs somewhere safe to stay and recover."

"Uh, how about no?" Tony fired back, staring at you like you had grown a second head...or like you had a towering sleeper soldier looming behind you.

Tony wasn't your favorite person in the world, but he was usually somewhat reasonable.

"Your state-of-the-art security cameras can't give us a heads up before that happens?" You asked with dry sarcasm, your tone deliberately flat and unimpressed, clearly making a joke while you tried to find some kind of middle ground that would get the agitated, self-proclaimed playboy to calm down and think rationally.

"No chance in hell, sweet cheeks," he folded his arms and glared at you with sternness that etched across his features. "Too dangerous."

"He's staying, whether you like it or not," you replied in the same unwavering tone, standing your ground with resolute conviction. "He's hurt, weak, completely vulnerable. There's absolutely nothing he could possibly do in this state. He needs somewhere warm and safe to stay, especially since he's been struggling to survive out on the streets for weeks now. Besides, winter is coming fast and there’s no way he won’t get hypothermia or something." You added with concern, knowing full well that while the soldier hadn't been entirely helpless during his ordeal, he certainly hadn't managed to secure any kind of stable shelter.

His temporary refuges consisted only of cold spaces beneath bridges, dark corners tucked away in forgotten alleys, or the remains of abandoned buildings - not a single place where he could truly let his guard down or feel protected from the harsh elements. With winter's rapid approach and already light dustings of snow, the temperatures would only get more brutal as the nights went on.

You continued to argue with Tony, Steve butting in every so often, luckily siding with you, desperate to have his old friend somewhere safe. It was a long, frustrating argument that lasted much longer than need be.

Earlier that day, while you had been making your way down the frost-covered street of New York's downtown district, his eyes had caught sight of your familiar form. Something deep within him told him to follow you, a magnetic pull that he couldn't explain. He obeyed the instinct, trailing silently behind you all the way back to the tower. When you finally became aware of his presence, he was thoroughly drenched from the steadily falling snow, his cheeks and nose having turned a bright, rosy color from the biting cold as he tried to suppress his constant shivering.

The moment you made your sudden turn to approach him, he visibly startled, immediately taking a defensive step backward as his mind raced through all the possible scenarios and potential threats. His eyes darted across your face with obvious wariness as you fully turned to face him, his entire body subtly shifting its weight from foot to foot, muscles tensed and ready to bolt away.

"It's okay...you look cold..." You spoke softly, your voice barely above a whisper, trying not to startle him as you took in his disheveled appearance. The soldier, the one whose face had practically been plastered across every news channel, the same one Steve had spoken about with such raw emotion in his voice.

You remembered how Steve had mourned his best friend, utterly confused and devastated about why he had saved from the river, while Bucky fell to what should have been his death. Steve held onto that grief, that guilt, like a lifeline. He held onto it so desperately, clinging to the faintest hope that a sliver of Bucky was still somewhere deep inside the persona of the Winter Soldier.

Looking at him now, you couldn't see any trace of the man from Steve's stories - the soldier's eyes were too wild and wide, filled with fear and confusion.

But despite everything you'd heard, despite the destruction you'd witnessed on the news, despite the intense warnings from everyone in the tower, there was something about his presence that didn't trigger your fight or flight response.

He didn't make you feel unsafe.

He looked absolutely beat down, exhausted to his very core, his shoulders slumped in a way that made you wonder when he'd last had a moment's rest. You weren't even sure he could take you down if he tried in this state, though you knew his reputation suggested otherwise. He was shaking from the cold air as it blew in a stinging breeze, his metal arm gleaming dully in what little light remained, while the incoming winter storm brought with it a thick haze and countless tiny pinpricks of needle-like snowflakes that seemed to cut through the air.

After a few silent moments where his piercing blue eyes studied you through the thick haze, he finally shifted his weight forward and took a step in your direction.

The water in the shower had set a steady steam in the bathroom, the mirror had fogged and the tiles sweat below your bare feet.

You could hear the gentle splashing of water against the bathtub as he cleaned himself. The mechanical whirring of his metal arm caught your attention, hopefully that thing was waterproof, but it must be, right?

After setting out a fresh towel and clean clothes for his use, you quietly excused yourself to provide him with privacy. The state of his current attire was awful, every piece was thoroughly saturated and carried an unmistakable stench that made you wrinkle your nose. The clothes were in such poor condition that you couldn't help but wonder if they had been scavenged from someone who no longer needed them.

You wouldn’t put it past the soldier to steal from a cadaver.

His shower routine was notably brief, years of conditioning taught him to minimize the time spent on his personal care. Upon finishing, he emerged from behind the curtain and efficiently dried himself with the provided towel. His gaze fell upon the fresh clothes you had thoughtfully placed by the sink, while his previous garments had been discreetly removed.

The soldier hesitated momentarily before donning the clean outfit. It wasn’t anything fancy, a pair of grey sweatpants emblazoned with the Avenger's logo along the side and a simple yet comfortable black tank top. When he finally emerged from the bathroom to face you, his body language betrayed his uncertainty as he stood there, not sure what to do now. Comfort was completely foreign to him, and care was a dream away.

"Tony finally gave in," you replied softly, your voice sounded in the quiet stillness of the bedroom. "He said you could stay here with us."

He remained motionless, his expression blank and unreadable as he stood there, offering neither response nor the slightest hint of acknowledgement to your words. You weren’t sure what to expect but that seemed pretty in character for him at the moment.

"You'll be staying in my quarters since no one else is comfortable having you in their space just yet...but don't worry too much about that," you reassured gently, though you could tell from his demeanor that others' opinions held little weight in his mind. "They'll come around after some time, I'm sure of it."

His gaze fixed upon you then, his brow creasing ever so slightly with an unspoken question as he began to move. Each step was deliberate and measured as he crossed the room, closing the distance between you until he stood directly in front of you, close enough that you could see the water droplets from his freshly washed hair beading at the ends and falling onto the fabric of your top, leaving dark spots where they landed.

"Everything's going to be fine," you said with gentle reassurance, trying to ease the tension in the air. "Why don't we head to the kitchen and get you something to eat? You must be hungry." You offered, hoping to bring some normalcy to the situation.

The soldier shadowed your every movement, following closely behind like a faithful companion who refused to stray from their master's side.

Upon entering the expansive kitchen, you immediately made your way to the industrial-sized refrigerator, searching through its contents for something suitable to offer him. The kitchen was perpetually stocked to the brim with an array of foods, snacks, and ingredients, practically anything one could imagine or desire. It was like having a private, fully-stocked grocery store.

Though with a the ravenous super soldier with enhanced metabolism, the mighty Asgardian god whose appetite matched his status, and Banner's surprisingly hulk-ish consumption…the team still depleted their food with an efficiency that would put a pack of famished wolves to shame.

"Hm...what should you have...do you want anything specific?" You turned over your shoulder to address him, but he maintained his characteristic silence. Unmoving, and completely stoic, like a statue carved from marble.

"Нет [No]," came his quiet response, the Russian word rolling off his tongue deeply. He remained perfectly still, observing with careful attention as you continued your search through the refrigerator's contents, trying to determine what would be most appropriate for him to eat. Your mind was working quickly, knowing you wanted to avoid anything too time-consuming to prepare. You wanted to get some food into him sooner rather than later.

"How about...I could make some soup real quick? Tomato and grilled cheese might be a safe option for you. Shouldn't upset your stomach too much if you haven’t been eating a lot, and it will warm you up if you're still feeling cold." You turned back toward him once more, studying his features carefully for any hint of reaction or preference to your suggestion, any subtle change in his expression.

But, he didn't provide even the slightest indication of his feelings.

You decided on tomato soup and a grilled cheese anyway, you figured it was best and immediately set to work in the kitchen.

Although you typically prided yourself on preparing meals completely from scratch, this particular circumstance called for something different. You assembled the sandwich, buttering the bread before placing it in a heated pan to get a golden-brown crust while keeping a watchful eye on the pot of soup simmering beside it, occasionally stirring for even heating.

Once everything reached the perfect temperature and consistency, you transferred the meal onto clean dishes, relieved it didn’t take too long. You presented him with the steaming bowl of soup and perfectly grilled sandwich, watching as the soldier deliberately took his place at the counter, his eyes fixed intently on the rising steam from the bowl before him.

You watched him, noting how his entire body remained unnaturally rigid and motionless, as though every muscle was locked in place and braced for something. His lips bore a slight sheen of moisture, like he had licked them at some point when you weren't watching. Yet despite his obvious hunger, he hadn't made even the slightest attempt to reach for the food. His eyes held intense longing and hesitation, briefly meeting yours before quickly darting away, as if making eye contact was somehow forbidden.

"What's wrong?" You asked with growing concern etched across your features, "You're hungry aren't you? I can tell you haven't eaten in a while. Especially not anything warm, at least. I know it can be hard out there, all by yourself…"

His response came in the form of an almost imperceptible nod, his gaze remaining firmly fixed on the bowl and sandwich before him, as though they were the most important and most dangerous objects in the room.

"So why aren't you eating? The food's getting cold, it won’t be as good if it cools too much."

"Я не могу совершить действие без приказа. [I cannot perform an action without an order]," the soldier responded in barely more than a whisper, his voice carrying the weight of years of conditioning.

You stood there, completely lost in the language barrier between you. Your limited knowledge of Russian extended only to the most basic words - 'да' and 'нет' - leaving you clueless by his response and worried about the implications of his behavior.

You didn't want to wake Natasha, even though she would certainly understand what he was saying in Russian, but disturbing her sleep for something as simple as a quick translation seemed unnecessary and might put her in a bad mood. Instead, an idea popped into your head that would avoid an angry widow. You reached for your phone and placed it on the smooth counter surface, navigating to a translator app before looking up at him again. "Can you repeat that?"

The soldier's eyes flickered briefly to the phone screen, taking in the sight of the translation app with what seemed like recognition, before his gaze deliberately returned to the untouched food laid out before him. "I cannot perform an action without an order," he stated in perfect, albeit mechanical English this time.

You blinked in surprise, thoroughly caught off guard by the sudden switch to English when he had been persistently speaking Russian up until this point. "Okay...well...eat then, you can eat freely here, you don't need an order to do that." You slowly tucked your phone away into your pocket as his right hand gradually lifted from where it had been resting in his lap, reaching out to pick up the sandwich.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but he wolfed down his food within a minute, that sandwich was gone within maybe three bites. The soup swallowed just as fast.

God, he was starving, and the realization made your heart ache.

"Better?" You asked gently, to which he only nodded, swallowing the last of the food in his mouth.

This became routine, the soldier stuck by your side like a duckling imprinting on its mother.

He followed you diligently around every corner of the tower, his protective instincts activated as he positioned himself like an ever-vigilant guardian. His eyes constantly scanned the surroundings, noting how others would cast uncertain and sometimes suspicious glances in his direction.

These looks made him increasingly self-conscious and anxious, as though he were some exotic creature put on display at a zoo for others to gawk at. But in your presence, he seemed a bit more at ease. He genuinely liked being around you.

He accepted these tender ministrations without the slightest resistance or complaint, though a nagging worry lingered in your mind that his compliance stemmed from years of conditioning to submit to others' wishes. Each time you worried about that, you’d see a genuine warmth and contentment in his gaze rather than submission, showing you that he truly found comfort and pleasure in your gentle touch.

It was evening, the room reflected the warm glow of festive holiday lights emanating from a miniature Christmas tree nestled in the corner. The soldier found himself transfixed by the small decorated tree, his eyes lingering on each twinkling light as their vibrant colors danced and shimmered. The sterile, monotonous walls he had grown accustomed to during his confinement were nothing compared to the colorful lights. The gentle play of red, green, and gold seemed to awaken something long dormant within him, he almost wanted to plant himself in front of the tree and just stare at it.

Tony may have allowed his stay, but that didn’t mean there weren’t restrictions. He was stern about where and when the soldier could go anywhere with you, and he demanded that he not leave your room afterhours. It wasn’t hard to follow, the solider showed reluctance to leave your room at all, having been so accustomed to being kept in one room. You didn’t push him, but you felt bad for him because he was missing how the tower had been decorated for the holidays. So, you got a smaller tree for the bedroom to provide some kind of festive look for him to take in.

You emerged from the bathroom, wisps of steam following in your wake, your damp hair leaving little droplets on your shoulders as you continued to towel it dry with scrunches. He remained motionless on the edge of your bed, his attention immediately shifting as he turned and blinked up at your approaching figure.

His icy eyes traced a deliberate path across your form, which was barely concealed beneath the thin fabric of your sleep shirt, the hem teasingly brushing against your mid-thigh with each movement. "I am beat," you sighed heavily, your voice carrying the weight of the day's festivities. The marathon of holiday activities had clearly taken its toll, leaving you thoroughly drained. The tower often held an array of things to do because Tony loved to show off what he could afford, and it wasn’t like anyone else would object.

He observed with rapt attention as you made your way onto the bed and settled back against the pillows, releasing a deep exhale that seemed to melt away the day's tension. His unwavering gaze remained fixed on the rhythmic, hypnotic motion of your chest rising and falling with each breath.

You felt the bed shift beneath you as he moved, his weight causing the mattress to dip and creak softly. He crawled over to where you lay, his arms positioning themselves on either side of your body, caging you in. Your eyes fluttered open to find him hovering directly above you, his presence overwhelming in its proximity. This was something new…he had always maintained somewhat of a distance before, never daring to position himself so intimately over top of you.

"Я скомпрометирован. [I'm compromised]," the soldier spoke in a hushed tone, his voice carrying that distinctive gravelly pitch that made you feel tingly. The tension between you had become damned near impossible to ignore. What had started as a subtle pull had grown into an overwhelming force of attraction that seemed to draw you both together like magnets.

Still, you forced yourself to hold back, maintaining that last thread of restraint. You had no way of knowing the depth of his emotional capacity, if he was even capable of genuine feelings, or wanted to experience them at all after everything he endured.

"Soldat...?" The whispered word escaped your lips as you noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way his muscles tensed as he remained suspended above you, perfectly still. "You know I don't understand-"

"I am compromised," he repeated, switching to English this time. His voice had dropped even lower, carrying an edge of frustration that vibrated through the minimal space between your bodies.

"Comprom..." You sat up slowly on your elbows and shook your head in confusion, your brow furrowed as you tried to process his words. That’s what you’d say about a machine or computer, not a man. "What are you talking about?" Your eyes wandered downward, suddenly drawn to an unmistakable tent in his fitted briefs that became obvious from your new viewing angle, causing you to freeze in place as your breath caught in your throat.

So, he could feel things.

"Oh..." You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you as you remained frozen in place, your cheeks growing warm. "I think I understand now...you're feeling a bit pent up, aren't you?"

His metal arm whirred softly, the sophisticated machinery humming as he moved to adjust his hand placement. "Да. [Yes]," he responded in a low voice, his gleaming titanium fingertips delicately ghosted across the bare skin of your thigh, just barely grazing beneath the hem of your thin sleep shirt. Goosebumps erupted along your body in response to the contact, the cool metal sudden against your flushed skin.

You swallowed reflexively, your breath catching in your throat as you felt his warm, steady breath caress your sensitive skin, sending a visible shudder of growing excitement through your body.

He continued his gentle exploration, encouraged by your acceptance and the absence of any resistance. He pressed a trail of soft, purposeful kisses along the curve of your jaw, each one more intimate than the last, before gradually working his way down to your neck. His lips carefully followed the rhythmic flutter of your pulse beneath your skin, his tongue peeking out shyly to touch against you.

"Ah-" You voiced softly, feeling him settle on a particularly sensitive spot, right against the delicate side of your neck. It was nestled perfectly between the graceful junction where your neck connected to your collarbone, the skin there warm and inviting, holding a faint trace of blood flow from the intricate network of smaller veins positioned just beneath the surface.

He kissed many times with increasing intensity, clearly finding this spot ideal for his attentions. The soft, tentative pecks gradually became more passionate, open-mouthed kisses as each one was placed. His tongue began gently pressing against your skin with each lingering kiss, the pressure slowly growing in need. You felt your cheeks flush with warmth when he finally latched on, your eyes widening in surprise as the soldier's strong arms held you a little tighter.

Soldat began to suckle a mark, his ministrations gentle and teasing at first, but quickly growing in force and intensity as his skilled tongue swirled expertly around the trapped skin between his lips and teeth. The sensation drew a breathy moan from deep within you, making your entire body feel as though it were engulfed in flames of desire. Though you were completely helpless beneath the assassin, you had absolutely no intention or desire to push him away.

This felt too damned good.

Without thinking, your leg came up and hooked around his hips, drawing him closer until your bodies were flush against each other. The heat between you grew and you felt his painful erection trapped in his briefs, straining against the fabric as his arousal was staining them. Soldat exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening possessively, but he did not let go.

His suckling grew increasingly intense, the sensitive skin tingling and starting to sting and burn with each passing moment. Still, he didn't release the bruised skin just yet.

Instead, he just bit down harder, ensuring the mark he left would last for days. You moaned loudly, your fingers gently tangling in his thick hair as your pleasured sounds encouraged his attention. He became more attentive when your little sounds of pleasure turned into sharp, quiet hisses - clearly indicating that the sensation had crossed from pleasure into discomfort, silently telling him to ease off.

When he did finally relent, he pulled back to admire his handiwork, looking down at the deep purple mark blooming on your neck. His breath came in heavy pants through his parted lips as he stayed quiet, watching intently as you struggled to catch your own breath too. The sight of you beneath him, disheveled and vulnerable, with flushed skin and labored breathing, was enough to draw him right back in.

He dipped back down with renewed hunger, his metal hand slowly threading through your hair before gently fisting it at the base of your skull, though his careful control ensured it wasn’t painful, just firm. He tugged just enough to guide your movement, encouraging you to expose more of your neck to his hungry gaze.

"E-easy..." You whispered, a note of anxious anticipation in your voice. You wanted more, god you wanted more, but his sudden change of behavior was a bit surprising for you.

"Понял. [Understood]," he whispered against your skin, pressing a soft kiss of reassurance to your jaw before returning his attention to your neck. Those soft kisses began again, trailing along your skin, but his restraint didn't last long as he quickly sought a new canvas for another mark. He latched onto a spot just a little bit higher on your neck, alternating between sucking and carefully controlled bites to gradually darken and bruise the sensitive flesh.

You felt bite after delicious bite, hickey after possessive hickey.

He marked the tender flesh of your neck in several deep, purple marks that bloomed like violent flowers across your skin...each one throbbing with a sweet ache when he pulled away. His tongue always swirled over the mark with care to soothe the sting of it, making you arch into his touch as you fell into a complete daze.

"S-Soldat," you muttered breathlessly, cheeks flushed crimson and eyelids heavy with desire. Your pupils matched his own - completely blown with hunger and desperate need. Those bermuda swirls meeting yours as he continued a torturously slow trail of hot kisses down your chest, nipping your collarbone with just enough pressure to make you gasp before following the gentle dip of your sternum.

He paused deliberately, pulling up so he could lift the thin sleep shirt over you and expose more of your bare chest to his hungry gaze, giving him better access for his heated kisses and teasing nips. Once your top was discarded somewhere on the floor, his hands gently but firmly held your sides, trailing up with reverent touches until settling against your ribcage. His larger hands completely encompassed your torso, making you feel small but protected.

You felt in charge now.

"What is it? Do you like them?" you purred softly to the soldier, your body swaying in a deliberately teasing motion that made them gently move. His eyes remained fixed, drinking in the sight before him as his lips parted ever so slightly. Slowly, his head tilted down again, surrendering to the moment. He let his face nestle against your chest, his lips trailing a constellation of unhurried kisses across your skin.

He began to nip and suckle the tender skin of your breasts, his mouth working to create deep, purple love bites on that delicate flesh. The bruising blossomed easily beneath his ministrations, almost like they were eager to show themselves.

His lips would find a promising spot, then he would begin lapping at the skin with gentle strokes of his tongue until he felt you squirming. The soldier took the sensitized flesh carefully between his teeth, rolling the captured skin while his talented muscle swirled and sucked.

Your chest displayed his passionate handiwork when he finally drew back to admire his creation. The plum-colored bruises created an intimate pattern across your skin, their rich hues made even more striking by the soft glow of the holiday lights that danced through the room, highlighting each carefully placed love bite until they seemed to shimmer like twilight stars against your flesh.

"Soldat...I think you covered enough surface area," you breathed, feeling overwhelmed by the intense throbbing that radiated from each mark he'd left. The sensation pulsed in waves across your skin, making it difficult to focus. Your neck was thoroughly covered in the passionate marks, and now your chest bore an equally impressive collection.

The soldier gazed down at you with intensely, his eyes taking in each little sugar plum bruise that decorated your skin like a masterpiece. Though they were scattered without any deliberate pattern, the overall effect clearly pleased him. You lay there looking thoroughly affected by his attention, hair mussed and breathing uneven, cheeks beautifully darkened with a dust of blush, just from his careful application of bites alone. The sight of you in such a state, marked so thoroughly, brought deep set satisfaction in his gut.

"Моя сейчас. [Mine now]," he muttered softly, his warm breath ghosting across your skin as his lips hovered mere millimeters from your own. The almost-kiss was delicate, just the faintest brush of contact that sent electricity dancing through your nerves. He almost seemed nervous to close that final distance, his confidence faltering despite the passionate trail of marks he had already left scattered across your skin.

He drew back slightly, seemingly snapping out of a trance, and you could see the vulnerability written plainly across his features as that nervousness flickered in his eyes. Shifting his weight, he settled back onto the bed, his right hand finding your knee and tracing gentle, soothing circles there with his thumb. The tender gesture matched his hushed voice as he spoke, "Я не хочу идти дальше. [I don't want to go any further]," the words carrying both certainty and a hint of apology.

Your brow furrowed deeply as you struggled to understand what he was trying to stay, the confusion evident in the slight crease between your eyebrows and the questioning tilt of your head. You really needed to study Russian. "Do you not want to continue?" you asked slowly and carefully, focusing more on interpreting the subtle nuances in his tone rather than trying to parse the exact words he was using.

His facial expression held hesitance and uncertainty, the slight downturn of his lips and the way his eyes wouldn't quite meet yours telling you what you needed to know. Body language was his primary mode of genuine communication, and you had become very good at reading these silent signals he unconsciously broadcast.

"It's okay, we can stop," you replied with a reassuring tone, making sure to keep your voice soft to help dissipate any lingering tension he might be feeling. "Let's just lay here, okay? We can cuddle without any kind of pressure to do anything else, if you want." You offered with a warm smile, wanting him to feel that his comfort and boundaries were completely respected and that there was no expectation or obligation to continue.

This was a lot of good progress with him, you typically just cuddled or he kept to his side of the bed but he had shown you a lot of sweet affection tonight, and you loved it, it meant he was growing more confident in himself and your relationship. The evidence of his passionate yet tender attention remained visible in the form of gentle, plum-colored marks that decorated your neck and chest as you lay beside him, watching as his silent form trembled slightly beneath the heavy warmth of the thick blankets that enveloped you both.

You opened your arms, offering him a warmer space, and he quickly scooted forward, tucking himself against you. Prone to being cold, he liked being under many layers of blankets, so you made sure to provide plenty for him to not only feel warm but secure. Plus...having you to hold him always helped.

Without the worry of being a soldier, he could rest easy like this.

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.

#bucky barnes x reader #fic rec

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wendichester · 1 day ago

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Love your writing, you write Dean so well!!!!!! If you’re still taking them, can I request one based on the Siren episode, where reader is on the mission with Dean and Sam, and Dean’s dream girl looks eerily like the reader and you’re like “dude… why does she look like me?” funny, fluffy and smutty? Dean and reader have unresolved tension from previous missions

˙˖°🪞⋆｡⊹˚ ideal type,

summary. there's a siren on the lose and dean is its next target .ᐟ

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 937.

notes. i went to rewatch this episode because I had completely forgotten about it. i had a blast writing this and hope I was able to meet your expectations ehe ‹𝟹

The motel room is small, as always. One bed for you, another for Sam, and Dean relegated to the couch because he lost rock-paper-scissors. Again. The Siren case had been dragging on for days, and the three of you were starting to fray at the edges.

The oldest Winchester leans against the edge of the bed, his eyes locked on the woman before him. Her smile is teasing, lips curving in a way that sets his nerves alight. Everything about her feels familiar―too familiar. She leans in closer, brushing her fingers over his arm.

"You're tense," she says, voice smooth and low, like honey dripping off a spoon.

Dean chuckles, trying to shake off the unease pooling in his gut. "Yeah, well, comes with the territory."

She tilts her head, her dark eyes boring into his. "I can help with that."

Her hand slides up his arm, over his shoulder, and lands on his chest. Dean swallows hard. Something's off, he knows it. But her face... her face looks so much like you, it's unnerving. It's you, but it's not. Not really. Her eyes are just a shade darker, her voice carrying a sultry undertone that he's never heard from you. Yet, the curve of her lips, the line of her jaw... it's almost an exact match.

"You're so goddamn beautiful," he mutters, almost to himself.

Her smile widens, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I know,"

Before Dean can process the odd response, she closes the distance between them, her lips pressing against his. It's electric, and for a moment, he forgets everything. Her hands curl into his hair, tugging lightly as the kiss deepens. Dean's hands move instinctively, gripping her waist and pulling her flush against him. The warmth of her body, the intoxicating scent of her skin, is almost too much.

But then, a sharp sting cuts through the haze, the back of his throat burning. His mind races―something's wrong.

The door bursts open, and Sam storms in with you trailing behind him, wide-eyed and alarmed.

"Dean!" Sam shouts, and Dean jerks back from the woman, his heart pounding.

Your eyes dart between Dean and the woman who looks just like you, horror and confusion etched across your face. "Dude," you breathe, your voice laced with disbelief. "Why does she look exactly like me?"

Dean stumbles back, his head spinning as the realization hits him like a freight train. "Wha‒I‒"

Sam doesn't hesitate. He grabs Dean's arm, yanking him back as the woman―the siren―advances. "She's infected you," Sam snaps, pulling out a bronze dagger from his bag. "Hold still."

Dean barely has time to react before Sam slashes his arm with the blade, drawing blood. Dean hisses but stays upright, his body tingling as the siren lunges. Sam moves like lightning, driving the blood-coated dagger into her chest.

The siren's eyes widen in shock before she collapses, her form flickering and changing, her resemblance to you fading as her true monstrous features are revealed.

The room falls into silence, save for Dean's labored breathing. He presses his hand into his bleeding arm, his gaze darting to you as you approach him.

"You okay?" your voice comes out soft.

"Yeah," he manages to mutter hoarsely. "I'm okay."

Hours later, the Impala hums softly on the road. Sam is passed out in the backseat, his head lolling the window. You sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed under your chest as you glance at Dean, who's gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly.

Finally, you break the silence. "Can we address the elephant in the room, now?"

Dean exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw working as he searches for an answer. "I... don't know."

You turn in your seat to face him, brows furrowing as the leather of the Impala cracks underneath you. "Dean,"

He glances at you, then back at the road. "Maybe it's... I don't know. Sirens mess with your head. Make you see things."

Your cheeks heat up, but you press on. "Technically―they show you what you desire most, ya' know... according to Bobby."

Dean's grip on the wheel tightens, his knuckles turning white. "Don't be a smartass," he grumbles under his breath, doing his best to avoid your gaze.

"I'm not being a smartass," you counter, your voice softer now. "It's okay, you know. If that's how you feel."

His jaw ticks as he glances at you again, his green eyes darker than usual. "You don't get it," he says, voice low. "It's not just how you look. It's... everything."

Your breath catches, and you struggle to find the right words. The tension in the car is thick, electric. Finally, Dean sighs, shaking his head. "Forget it."

But you don't want to forget it. Not when his words have your heart racing. "Dean..."

He pulls over suddenly, the Impala rolling to a stop on the side of the empty road. He turns to you, his expression intense. "I'm not good at this," he admits. "But, yeah. Maybe the siren got it right. Maybe I do... want you."

Your heart feels like it might burst as his words sink in. "You‒"

He cuts you off by leaning across the seat, his hand cupping your cheek as he presses his lips to yours. It's soft at first, hesitant, but when you kiss him back, it deepens, years of unspoken tension finally breaking free.

When you finally pull back, you're both breathless. Dean rests his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling your face. "You're not just what I want," he whispers. "You're what I need."

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, as the Impala's engine hums softly in the background. For the first time in a long time, you feel at ease, the only weight you feel is Dean's hand resting on your thigh.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fic #supernatural #.docx #.req

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clare-875 · 3 days ago

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Hi, I was wondering if you could do a One Piece Boys (Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid, and Katakuri) x female reader, where it's them being jealous like it could either be Reader gushing about a fictional character from a book, movie, etc. or they fangirl over a person they idol/admire or they see Reader talking to someone or Someone's flirting with Reader, etc.?

Emerald Eyes (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace)

Pairings: Luffy x Reader; Sanji x Reader; Zoro x Reader; Ace x Reader Summary: How he acts when he is jealous Warnings: Some Angst, Fluff A/N: I've split this into two parts :) [One Piece Masterlist] [Part 2: Sabo, Law, Kid, Katakuri] _____

- Luffy -

Luffy doesn't know why all of a sudden a funny feeling has invaded his senses, but he knows that the cause is you. Specifically, you talking to one Trafalgar D Water Law.

Luffy knows that you are interested in devil fruits and once you had learnt of Law's unique powers, you had jumped at the opportunity for him to show you. Luffy adored that about you; your eagerness and curiosity often matched his own. However, it had been about an hour now and you were still talking to him.

He can hear your rapid words and can see the enthusiasm in your grin, and though usually oblivious to such things, he would be a fool not to see Law's gentle gaze as he looked at you; so uncharacteristic of him. You were often considered the scientist of the crew providing insight and often helping Chopper with his remedies, so Law found it easy to talk to someone like you.

Intelligent, honest and purposeful.

"You know [y/n]-ya, if you were ever considering joining another crew-"

You barely have any time to register Law's words when an arm wraps itself around you and suddenly you're flying through the air. "Wait, Luffy-" But you are flung into his arms before you can even take a breath. You find yourself in Luffy's warm chest a small distance away from Law and turn to see your boyfriend glaring at him.

"Hey Tra-guy, I'm her Captain, stop trying to steal her away!"

You watch as Law's eyebrows twitch in annoyance, but before he can retaliate, he is dragged away by his own crew members who have been waiting for him to finish his conversation with you. Luffy grins and sticks a tongue out to him, satisfied that your attention is on him once more.

His arms loosen and you roll your eyes in mock annoyance, barely containing a grin as you look at your Captain. "We were just talking you know? I would never leave you for him."

Your Captain seems to find some satisfaction in your words as his eyes go gentle as he looks at you, and a warm smile erupts on his face. "I know, but you were taking too long. Come on, let's ask Sanji for some food!"

He drags you with him and keeps you close to him for the rest of the day. Unsure of what his feelings earlier may have meant, but sure in knowing he wanted you by his side and not Law's.

- Sanji -

You were wandering down the streets of an island holding Sanji's arm as he looked fondly at you. You were talking to him about something, eyes shining as they did when you spoke of the things you liked. He can see your lips move but he hears nothing because he is just lost in your gaze.

'God, you were just so perfect and beautiful and smart and powerful and you were just looking at him with the uttermost care and love and devotion and-'

Sanji's thoughts are all on you, all on you and your flawless image pretty eyes and unspeakable love. He barely even notices the abundance of women who pass him now, not when he could be looking at you instead. But suddenly, he is wretched free of his thoughts when he registers you calling him name.

"-Sanji, Sanji!"

You let out a sigh when you finally see him shake out of his thoughts and he feels a flush reach his face as he had been caught in his absentmindedness. "Y-Yes, love?" He asks, stammering out his words, but they only cause a warm grin to enlighten on your face. You let out a light laugh that has his heart hammering.

"I was just asking if you wanted some too?"

He turns and realises you are at a food stall in the markets the two of you had wandered into. "I'm okay love, but don't worry about the payment, it's-"

"It's on me."

Sanji looks up as he registers the words of the man in the stall he had not noticed before. He holds out the dish you had ordered, smiling widely to you. You, on the other hand, look up surprised as you take the dish from him and look unsurely between your boyfriend and him. "Oh, thank you!"

"Can't have a pretty lady like yourself paying can we?"

The man smiles once more, pearly white teeth beneath his well-kept hair. He was young and handsome and seemed to know it as he looked at you suggestively. You force yourself from grimacing, but Sanji has little patience.

He was already a jealous person to begin with, especially when it came to you. And though he tries to be better, he has to hold himself back from kicking the man from his stall and giving him a piece of his mind.

"If you want, I could show you around love, you might be better off with a local instead of-"

You cut the man off as you see the fire ignite in Sanji's eyes, hands clenching and unclenching in a failed attempt to keep his emotions at bay. "Why you-" "I'm okay thanks. I'm having a lovely time with my boyfriend and would rather keep things that way."

You glare at the man in front of you and take Sanji's hand in yours, they instantly lose their tension when he feels your gentle touch. When you are finally a short distance away, Sanji finds himself at ease once more. "You okay, love?" You ask him, lightly squeezing his hand in yours.

Sanji can't begin to explain the amount of pride he has in calling you his. "More than okay, love." He whispers placing a kiss on your intertwined hands. He tries his best to stay more alert the rest of the day, but ultimately fails once more as he gets lost in your gaze and the presence of you.

- Zoro-

"What's that?"

You were lying on your bed carefree when Zoro’s sharp words invade your ears and you startle, not having heard him approach. You put a hand to your heart exaggeratively.

"God Zoro, are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"You didn't answer my question."

His words are sharp as they are blunt, as he looks down to you and the manga in your hands. He had watched as you giggled and smiled and kicked your feet at the pages in your hands, clearly pleased. But imagine the swordsman’s displeasure when he learns that your happiness had come from a particular man engrained on the paper.

“It’s the latest Jujutsu Kaisen manga?”

“I know that, but who’s the white haired grandpa you keep giggling at woman?”

You gasp as though you had heard the most offensive thing in your life, looking up and glaring at your boyfriend with mock hurt.

“How dare you Roronoa Zoro, that is the Gojo Satoru and you will show some damn respect.”

Zoro would have adored the pout on your lips had you not been defending the man in your hands at that moment. More specifically, it made him feel weirdly horrible having competition with a man who wasn’t even real. A man he can’t even fight for you.

“He can’t be all that. Look you can’t even see his damn eyes.”

“Yes Zoro, but you see it’s for good reason because underneath is the most breathtakingly beautiful blue eyes, and omg Zoro look at him fighting in this scene it’s no wonder he’s the strongest, oh and-“

You are about to continue your gushing but unfortunately for you, your boyfriend watching you blush and ramble about another (nonexistent) man has him moving before he helps himself. One hand goes to his sword and all of a sudden instead of the manga you just had in your hands, pieces of paper scatter under Zoro’s careful slices.

“Zoro! I wasn’t finished reading that!”

Your pout adorns your features deeper and you find yourself genuinely frustrated by your boyfriend’s actions. Zoro feels bad for just a moment before realising that finally, your eyes were on him and not another man on paper.

He moves, gently prying your reluctant form into his embrace as he pulls you next to him on the bed. His lips latch onto your neck as he mumbles words into your skin.

"You don’t need the strongest when you’ve got the world's strongest swordsman right here next to you.”

You roll your eyes but a smile soon adorned your face at your unusually petty boyfriend.

“He’s not even real you know?”

You mutter rolling your eyes but your boyfriend merely hums before letting his slumber take over.

“Shut up about him now woman, I want to sleep.”

- Ace -

When Ace finds you, you are asleep on a bed, with a serene look on your face. The sight of you at peace, has Ace adorning a loving smile on his face as he gently slides in next to you. His warm arms pry you from your side so you are now facing him, but just before he pulls you into his body, he finds something buried in your arms.

Ace freezes for a moment, confused, but then you stir just in time for you to answer some of his questions. "Baby?" You mumble, looking up and surprised to see that your boyfriend has now joined you in bed. He must have returned from the mission he had set off for early this morning.

"Love?" Ace mutters as you slowly start to wake and you happily look up at him. "What's that?"

You look down into your arms, forgetting that in Ace's absence, you had decided to sleep with one of the plushies you usually had by your bedside table.

"Oh," you flush lightly, but smile nonetheless showing Ace what had been bundled in your arms in his place. "It's a plush?" Ace nods hesitantly but as he looks closer he notices just who that plush is supposed to resemble.

"Is that the fire guy from that show you're always watching? What was it, Demon Slayer?" You let out a light laugh but nod. "Yeah, it reminds me of you, you basically have the same powers."

Ace now looks to the plush of Rengoku Kyojuro in your embrace and suddenly feels the urge to light him aflame so it is reduced to ashes. "Why do you have that anyway?" He asks tentatively, trying to play off his jealousy of such a stupid situation, but of course, you notice.

"Because I like him?" You say with a teasing smile on your face. "More than me?" Ace pouts and you laugh once more lightly caressing his raven locks and putting the plush to your bedside with the others once more. He fights a smile when he sees its absence in your arms. "Of course not baby. Are you seriously jealous of a plush?"

Ace flushes a deep red as he avoids your gaze and to fight off the embarrassment, suddenly pulls you into his embrace. You squeal lightly as he tugs you in so suddenly and he buries his face into the skin of your neck. "No..." He mumbles. You grin at his words but suddenly tiredness is pulling you back in and you relish the warmth that he emits in the cool afternoon.

"I love you Portgas D. Ace, you're better than him anyways." You can feel his smile grow on your skin as he finally looks up and places a gentle kiss on your lips. "You mean that?" You roll your eyes as he looks at you, showing a mock look of desperation but secretly knowing he just wants the confirmation.

"Of course I do. Now shush, m'tired."

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jweekgoji · 3 days ago

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can you make a 3 part of d-16 of pleasuring him with a spike instead of fingering

Yandere!D-16/Reader

tw: NSF///W (minors don't read), jealousy, possessive behavior, unhealthy attachment, insecurity (D-16's side), yandere themes. word count: additional tags: gender neutral!reader, reader has a spike, D-16 has spike and valve, cybertronian!reader, idol!reader, power bottom!D-16, top!reader a/n: there's so many different continuations of the original posts so that even I can't keep track of it, haha. the previous chapter for this would be >this.

You're so fond of your little devoted fan, it's hard not to find D-16 at least a little cute.

If any of your coworkers heard your thoughts, oh, you would hear their taunts for cycles.

“That's so weird, what do you even see in him?”

“He's half your size, how do you do...well, you know. 'That stuff'.”

“You're definitely a pervert.”

Of course, none of your friends took your interest seriously. It's just a one-night stand; as they say, you will grow tired of that needy little thing and move on. At least, you should.

You're too good for him, too beautiful for everyone's standards, there's plenty of other mechs and femmes showing their desire for you, the ones that can provide you with everything you need.

Chromia, despite your pretend rivalry during the races, seems like paying too much interest in you, and Hot Rod can't stop asking you out on dates, each time you beat him. So many options...and yet, out of all the Iaconians, a miner? Seriously?

Maybe you actually need a little break from everything. If anyone finds out what you two do behind everyone's back, a cogless bot slacking off instead of working tirelessly in search of energon...that information will definitely screw off his chances at getting a better, higher position in the future. With how little respect most Iaconians have for the cogless part of cybertronians, you can only fear of what else the higher-ups can do to him. Not to mention...what will the others tell about you?

And still... Why, why, why were you like this?

D-16 couldn't comprehend in his head why all of a sudden you started to avoid him.

Are you embarrassed of him? He totally understands that; he learned his place in this society for a long time ago; it's not like he will blame you for it.

Maybe he's been too much for you lately? Yes...yes, definitely, isn't it? He's been so demanding the last time, craving your touch and your praise; everything will be good enough for him if only it comes from you.

Every new reason he comes up with for you as an excuse for you to ignore him, leaves a suffocating feeling of fear inside his processor.

'You've lost interest in him, that's all' is constantly ringing in his head. But that can't be true, can it?

You're perfect; you've said you love him and dedicated some of your time to him specifically, even though you could have run away as soon as you had some pleasure.

He must be the reason.

The look of disappointment was etched on D-16's face. Every single time he cheered for you from the crowd, waving his servo in hopeless need for you to spare him at least a single glance.

You pose next to Chromia, your servo on her waist, as one of the photographers approaches you to take a photo together. First and second prize winners, you can't ignore so many questions from the local sports reporters who are trying to get some answers about your relationship with the blue bot.

Playfully, you deny every rumor, but the slight smirk on Chromia's face only encourages the audience more.

“Yes, we're just coworkers,” she gives you a brief glance, winking at you before looking back at the camera again. “Right, partner?”

The sight alone makes D-16 clench his teeth. The large, flat screen projecting the post-race broadcast seems to mock him.

Here on the screen, you seem much closer to him than you have in the last few days of your stubborn silence. He wonders, when you look at the camera, do you think about him?

Are you even aware that he is, once again, focused only on you, rewatching the broadcast over and over again, just because you appear on the screen?

Primus, he feels so pathetic. Hiding behind one of the few quiet corners, he sighs, servo resting over his optics.

How long has this been going on now? A week? Two? He's so tired of waiting.

D-16 is patient; he really tries to give you as much personal space as possible and as much time as he can give you, but it's so damn hard.

Before, it was easier to control. Before, at least, he didn't have hopeless dreams that you would ever know he existed. But no, now you know him. You know how much he's in love with you—that he's dedicated an entire chunk of his poems about you.

It's not hard for Orion to notice how much his best friend has changed recently. From being strong and determined, D-16 completely avoids any contact with him. Any mention of you only fuels the silver bot more, and it's not uncommon for him to push everyone around him away.

But unfortunately or luckily, Orion is too determined to get off his back so easily. The famous troublemaker won't so easily leave D alone. And as his only best friend, Orion offers him a solution.

“Just sneak into their room when they won't see you and ask them whatever is bothering you. They can't escape you when you corner them!”

Such a ridiculous idea. It annoys him that he's even considering doing it.

Where Orion even gets such ideas from...?

Standing in your room, all alone and surrounded in everything that reminds him of every single thing he adores in you. That alone makes his spark beat faster.

Can he touch that? Some framed photos were carefully placed all over the room. Some with your friends, some with your colleagues; he can recognize the names if he tries hard enough, but it isn't necessary for him when it's only your face he's focused on. You have so many statues after cycles of your career...

It's not like he hasn't been there before. If anything, he's been here plenty of times, but it was never just him in there. Something in this feels more intimate, for some reason, yet it is so, so wrong.

The thoughts about guilt still linger in the back of his mind. He shouldn't be here. That stupid idea Orion suggested him...! Oh great, now he feels wrong.

Can you blame him for it? You've been denying him for so long. It is only natural for him to get a little ahead of himself. He just needs a little taste, just to calm this nagging feeling down his waist. His servo hesitantly reaches for your berth, gently gripping the soft material of the sheets. He just wants to bury his face in it, wrap it around himself, maybe to imagine your gentle hold of him—

Until he hears noise from the outside and all his thoughts stop as he tries to quickly step back from it.

The door opens, revealing only your figure standing in the way. It takes a mere seconds for you to notice an intruder inside your quarters, and the look of surprise showed on your face as you finally realized who it is.

For a moment, none of you let out a single word. His optics wide, mouth slightly open, as if he tries to think of something, anything, but nothing will possibly explain it.

‘This is your chance,’ he quickly thinks, before he musters his courage to finally start to speak.

“...Why? Why were you avoiding me all this time?” D-16's voice quivers; his servo tightens on his own chassis.

The heavy gasps of his breathing are the only sound in the room. You still have no idea how to answer that.

You should have seen that coming. Leaving him alone without any explanation broke his mind, and now frustrated, almost on the edge of tears, you have no other choice but to face the consequences of your own negligence.

Gently closing the door of your room, you decide to continue.

“I was afraid that if someone catch us...they will do something to you.”

D-16's optics widened at your explanation. He expected anything but that. He stops, just staring as if a deer caught in headlights. Not only that, but he was so happy to finally hear that. That at least it's nothing he had thought about before. You care for him, and realizing that makes all his worries disappear for a moment.

But seriously...that's it?

Slowly, a confused look morphs into annoyance; he steps closer to you, grabbing on your wrists.

“You really think...that I care about what others will do to me?” his digits tightening on your frame, almost possessively. “Do you have any idea what I've been thinking all this time? When you kept ignoring me?”

D-16 huffs in frustration, shaking his helm in disbelief. He doesn't understand if he should be angry at you or himself at this moment. He's been overthinking every little thing he had done for the past months that could have possibly made you angry with him. Furthermore, he even broke into your own damn quarters to confront you about it, only to find out that you are just like him.

Thinking too much about small things when the most important person is right next to you.

Primus, you're making him so mad right now, but he lets himself forget about everything, just now.

You feel his servos gripping your face, pulling you towards him, only to meet into the harsh kiss. He cuts off whatever feeble attempt you tried to mutter in apology; no, for now, it all can wait.

He's been waiting for this moment as if for ages. Having you so close to him, his frame pressed against your own, the familiar, burning tingling makes his spike twitch in need.

He wants you; he wants you so much right now, that he barely recognizes himself.

Any other day he'd be too embarrassed to look up at you, too shy to let out a moan in fear that someone might hear.

When he presses you against berth, straddling your hips, he looks nothing like the shy bot you met many, many times before. It's only by one look in his optics, full of need and hunger, that you realize how badly you screwed up.

His inexperience is still so apparent. In a desperate attempt to get you to open your interface panel, he's practically bucking his hips against you, like an animal in heat.

You are so tempted to just watch him trying. Maybe after a good half an hour he'd eventually reach what he desires.

Not wanting to act cruel for now, you finally open your interface panel without a protest. Your own spike pressing between his silver thighs, small droplets of transfluid smearing over the smooth metal.

The sight alone makes D-16 shiver, almost from embarrassment at how fast his own panel opens after watching you.

Spike standing tall, already rock hard, and the wet mess from his valve makes him grind his thighs from impatience. You can only imagine what he'd try to do in your room if you were an hour later to find him.

You feel his servos holding a little tighter on your shoulders, his breathing a little shallow, as he guides himself on your spike. A little shudder runs down his spine at the sensation of you feeling him up, and he barely pays attention to others, making it possible to hear him.

He's been so patient and kind to you. It takes him a little less than a minute to get even more hungry, desperate for more.

“D—” you gasp, your own servo reaching for his waist to slow him down a little, only for him to grind himself on you harder.

He'd be lying if he said that it didn't hurt him a little. He tried to stretch himself every single day since the moment you started ignoring him, hoping not to forget that delicious feeling of you inside him.

Tears prickling in his optics as he stared down at you—oh, how much he dreamed for this moment to finally come true.

Another, loud, shameless moan escapes his lips as your spike hits deeper into him, his valve clenching around your length, begging for more. He feels so full right now.

If only this feeling never ended.

“Agh...frag, yes—” he cries out, arching his back to meet your thrusts.

He's so content with just having you underneath him, while his mind is clouded with nothing but lust and need for you. Optics rolling into the back of his helm, practically seeing stars.

You pant softly, only guiding his movements from time to time, not letting the poor little thing to accidentally hurt himself during such an intimate moment of connection between the two of you. You're barely even doing anything at this point, letting him set control over his own pace.

D-16 salivates at the thought. His inner walls clenching around your spike every so often, making him more aware of his building-up overload. He wants to last so, so much longer.

His spike throbs as your servo wraps around it, gently moving up and down over the sensitive length. You hear him whine, pushing his hips harder for more, more of the sweet friction.

He'd beg you to stop, to not push him over the edge so soon, and he almost wants to swat away your servo from him until he grits his teeth, stifling a groan. Hips moving more erratically, and with a heavy breath, he stutters your name as he finally reaches his release.

With a soft, satisfied hum, you pull your cogless miner closer, letting him rest against you. For a quick moment, you glance down, noticing your spike still buried deep inside him, your chassis painted in his transfluid.

D-16 clinges onto you, servos wrapped around you, as if seeking comfort. He still tries to catch his breath, panting next to your audio receptors, optics closed shut.

Well, Orion's dumb idea worked out...somehow.

#yandere x reader #transformers x reader #transformers one x reader #d 16 x reader #yandere megatron x reader #megatron x reader

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backseatsoldier · 3 days ago

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"Broken", Not Stupid - 8

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unusual omega!OC (13)

CW: Omegaverse; cult-like situation; dehumanization; selling children to a cult

Author's Note: The words are flowing~ today! And a bit softer part this time lol

"13." I hear Simon call to me gently. When I feel his hand on my shoulder I open my eyes slowly. "We're here."

Groggily, having fallen asleep for the rest of the drive, I sit up and look out the car windows. It's... a house. It's not huge, but it does have a fenced in front yard. Probably the back too, by the looks of the fence seemingly wrapping around the house.

Home.

The world settles into my mind again, but it feels... foreign. Almost as if it's a lost concept to me.

"Alright?" he asks for the second time since he's picked me up.

I nod slightly and unbuckle my seatbelt. He quickly exits the car, rounding it, and opens the door for me again. Instead of taking his offered hand I get myself out of the car. My independence is important to me and I refuse to continue being taken care of tonight.

Even if he is, technically, my alpha.

My alpha!

The omega inside me squeals at the thought of having an alpha and I shake my head to clear the excitement as I follow him up the front steps.

As soon as the door opens, I get the faint smell of cinnamon and cedar - him. It should be stronger, considering this is his house, but I pay no mind to it. I'm sure the constant sterile air flow from Salvation's facilities for the past however many years has done something to my sense of smell. Couldn't smell him until we hugged. Gotta be something from Salvation.

There's plenty from Salvation I'm dragging with me, I'm sure.

Once inside, Simon seems on edge, but he gives me a quick tour. He points out the living room to the left, kitchen to the right, bedrooms and bathroom down the hall in front of us. He adds that there's a sunroom on the back side of the house, that the door at the end of the hall leads to it.

"I also have-"

Something warm and soft rubs against my ankle and I look down to see...

"-a cat. Sorry. She's not typically so social. Espeically at first."

I wave dismissively at him and lean down to let her sniff my fingers.

"Black cat seems... very you," I comment as I gently run my hand over the cat's head. She nudges up into my hand while purring.

"Her name is Selene," Simon informs me after a moment of silence. "Named her after a moon goddess because, well... she showed up on full and new moons every month for," he pauses, thinking, "about three months. I started leaving food out for her on the third visit and she became a permanent fixture in my life after that. She let herself in one day while I was on my way out," he chuckles at the memory.

"You're very beautiful. Simon must take good care of you," I coo at Selene. She meows loudly at me in response and I smile.

"She's probably cussing me out because I've been gone or busy around the house all day," he mumbles.

"Oh, you poor baby... did Dad abandon you all day?" I frown at Selene and she meows in an almost sad way while shoving her head against my wrist.

Simon takes the time I'm spending with Selene to close the door and lock it. Then he moves down the hall and opens a door to the right. While he does... whatever he's doing, I lay on the floor with Selene and she takes the chance to curl up close to my chest. From the corner of my eye I see him leave the room he'd entered and make his way back to us.

"I see you two made very fast friends." There's a hint of a smile in his voice, but he still has the surgical mask on so I'm not sure if he is smilng.

"Not gonna lie, if she stays here, I'm going to fall asleep right here," I chuckle and slowly run my hand over her back.

Selene purs louder and I smile at her.

"I wasn't allowed to have cats," I say softly. "Dogs were the only animal allowed..."

I trail off as I think back to my life before Salvation. Simpler, yet somehow still so complicated.

"Come on," Simon says to me. "I won't let you sleep on the floor. Especially in front of the door. I got a bunch of blankets and pillows out for you to choose from real quick. Tomorrow you can take your time with selections and truly make your nest yours."

The omega in my head springs to life but I move slowly, so as not to upset Selene too badly.

"Can she stay with me tonight?" I request after picking out a couple blankets and pillows. Selene is already curled up on a pillow I chose specifically for her, should she be able to stay in the room.

"I don't think either of us have a say in the matter. She's already made herself at home," he chuckles quietly and reaches out to sratch Selene's head gently.

A whine builds in my throat at the show of affection but I swallow it. Damn, I need sleep. So I climb into my first-ever nest and snuggle near Selene, slowly stroking her fur to coax both of us to sleep.

Once my eyes fall closed, I hear Simon's boots shift on the carpet and the door close but not latch.

Masterlist | CoD Masterlist | Part One

Tag List: @lucienofthelakes @lostintransist @demothers-empty-blog @scaredyspooks @tessakate @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @nerdyphantomtheorist @gazsluckyhat

#backseat soldier #rhi_writing_adventures #call of duty #cod #original character #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x oc #simon riley x oc #simon ghost riley x oc #omegaverse #cod omegaverse #don't drink the kool aid #it was actually flavoraide but that's not the point

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indestinatus · 2 days ago

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2024 IN WRITING

tagging: @television-overload @benditlikepress @hopeless-nostalgiac @loudlooks @slouchingprovocatively @mrsmungus @mondlersswiftie @zeevah-ninja @pokingacave @natalias @loismagic @atlolevad4ev @hundan and addi (who doesn't have a tumblr) <3

1. List of works published this year: 16 (wow?)

She -> the fic I wrote knowing Ziva was coming back and no one knew it yet omg it was incredible

I'll crawl home to her -> finally got the courage to write a reunion of sorts. Can't wait till they reunite again on screen in Paris

carve your name into my bedpost -> post-season 17 Tony asks Ziva out on a date

you're too sweet for me -> the beginning of my secret summer obsession

sorry for not winning you an arcade ring -> Tony asks Ziva to marry him

we’ve already done it in my head -> second secret summer fic of the year, basically a sex dream from Ziva haha

no other shade of blue -> Tiva angst in the spin-off!!!

and the birds will sing our song in halcyon -> sugary sweet fic of the year, eternal bliss for those two beloved characters

rudely barging in on a white veil occasion -> Tony and Ziva burst into a wedding and the rest is history (in the spin-off omg)

when you were mine in the dark -> read this, please. It is my best work ever. Follows what happened in Paris on 7x13

Miss Congeniality -> I will continue this when I finish writing the ones I plan to post before the spin-off airs (stay tuned)

Coming Soon -> I was so excited to write a trailer and then the trailer got leaked haha

maybe we got lost in translation -> the beginning of me writing in clues, the intrigue and mystery never ends

page fifty-seven -> sex

we should just kiss (like real people do) -> Tony kisses Ziva in a Christmas party under the mistletoe

I hope you see me in your dreams -> another heartbreaking tale of Tony seeing Ziva's ghost

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

when you were mine in the dark -> this is my favorite work of mine. I wrote it in a span of months, thinking about every bit of dialogue, action, emotion, and so on. So much research went into the source material and compiling different ideas of canonical events. God, I had so much fun. It's rare for me to be proud of something. I'm tremendously proud of this one.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

Coming Soon -> will probably delete it someday haha I was just too excited and published this one in a daze

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

from my favorite, when you were mine in the dark:

“Ha-ha, David. It isn’t me who is so uncultured she doesn’t know Ratatouille.” “I know ratatouille.” She passes past him to climb the stairs to their hotel lobby. Sending him a side-eyed glance, Ziva looks over her shoulder, saying, “The dish, yes? It is delicious. Tomatoes, zucchini, and peppers—I make a tremendous one.” It’s true. “But what does it have to do with a cooking rat?” “A rat chef. Not a cooking rat.” “So, a chef that is a rat?” “More of a rat that is a chef. Y’know what? Don’t sweat on it.” “You already did for both of us, yes?” “Don’t blame me for needing a shower. It was an eight-hour flight.” “Oh, believe me,” she says, holding her breath. “I know.”

5. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

again (I say this with such a rare pride) from my favorite when you were mine in the dark:

"WOW. Your ability to draw on the depth of emotion and intimacy between these characters and weave it into something so beautiful and comprehensive could be studied by academics. This was the perfect story to read on a beautiful autumn day, like a warm hug of words."

Thank you so much, @vexthejester, for such a kind review. Whenever I need the strength to dive into writing again, I reread your words. They have affected me more than anything. Thank you.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

November 2024 (aka the hardest month of medical residency; I almost didn't sleep, let alone write. But hooray to battling through it, I got out of it alive!!!)

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

Writing about Somalia in (again LOL my favorite) when you were mine in the dark. That nightmare scene took a lot of me to write and it was so tricky to write about trauma and not make it traumatic.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I think I matured enough to write about more serious topics in the Tiva timeline (Somalia, the secret summer, Tony alone during season 13, Tali's birth) with the degree of seriousness I wanted to.

The spin-off been revealed also pushed me to write about stuff I had always been afraid (sofia's take on 11x02 is coming!!! don't worry) in a way I liked. I had so much fun.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

Next year will be a year filled with studies from me again (horrible) but I'll continue to dive into hard topics such as Tali's birth, Cairo and 11x02. Can't wait to write about them before canon changes haha.

Also... The spin-off? Like??? Until proven otherwise, we are all collectively dreaming. It makes me want to cry.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

Gotta give this one completely to @television-overload. Haley is such a sweet soul and a loyal friend. We embarked on this journey of a Tiva Fanfiction Writing project together (which you can check on @tiva-challenges !!!) in a way I've always dreamed of. Thank you, friend. Here's to many more projects in the Tiva universe.

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Yes. You don't need to know more, but all the secret summer of sex fics are about me personally. Yes. All of them. Yes, I know what you're thinking. Yes. Yes, all of them.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Treat your audience like they're smart.

It changed the way I wrote things completely. I show more than tell now and I found out that is the key to mysterious writing (which I love), people are going to make the connections. Storytelling is so fun!!!

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

YES. I'm currently writing about Tali's birth for a big personal goal of mine and I also want to write about Cairo before canon changes.

Which, well... Expect me to write about every episode of the spin-off. I can't believe I can say this. What a dream. What a beautiful dream.

14. If you could recommend only one work from yourself published this year:

when you were mine in the dark

Everyone, make way—this is my favorite work, ever. Trust me. Please. Please, read this one. It summarizes everything I think about Tony & Ziva.

15. Year word count: 101,920

I can't believe I've written this much this year. And without any big uncompleted works. I had only written this much on the pandemic.

Thank you so much for all the support! I love writing. I'll continue to write about Tony & Ziva until all of you get tired of me. Yay!

#ncis #tiva #tiva fanfiction #writing #2024 in writing #2024 tag #years in writing tag #i loved this year so much #all my love / sof x

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regulus-smith · 3 days ago

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Hi! This is a rant about me just 'casual'ly being in love with my best friend.

ba dum tssss. casual by chappel roan joke in the title.

so like. I've been in love with my best friend for five years. She doesn't know. She thinks I stopped liking her two years ago. I never did. Even though we stopped talking as much, I still dream of her. Her long brown hair, her eyes bluer than the shiniest of diamonds, cut to perfection, ones I could get lost in for the rest of my life, if only she wouldn't look away. I want blue to meet greenish grey. I want j to meet e, I want to love her freely. Her smile shines bright, the words spilling out speak to my soul in ways nobody else could. Our minds and souls intertwined. Every time something changes about one of us, it changes about the other. Even when we hadn't spoken in months. I started liking something, so did she. Her sexuality changed, so did mine. We liked the same people, same medias, and same music. We were the best of friends, to put it simply. I've drawn her, but I could never truly, fully capture the overwhelming beauty she possesses. I could never express that to her. She has a boyfriend. I've hinted to her that I like her, but I don't think I'd ever tell her straight up. Another thing is- when her gender changes to male, I feel like a transmasc gay man. When her gender is female, I feel like a nonbinary lesbian. My gender and sexuality changes to hers, as she is the only one I will ever truly love. I could write books about her, but no amount of books could ever tell the amount of love I have for this girl. She makes me feel alive. My heart races, and my hands shake, as the words spill out of my mouth, ones that I don't want to, that tell her things I never should've said. I should've kept my mouth shut before, but I didn't. I should've waited. So I will wait now. She has said things that make me wonder, even though I know they're not about me. She says 'oh, yeah, I like bigger boys and girls' (we were talking about Claggor and Vander from arcane, for context.) I am bigger. She says she loves losers and nerds. I am a loser and a nerd. She likes people with glasses. I have glasses. She likes people who are funny. She laughs at every stupid joke I make. I know they'll never be about me, but I'm starting to hope. The other day she said we did like each other at the same time, a while back. And it hurts, knowing I could've had a chance to be with the love of my life. And I know that's a hold statement, at 14, but I know it is true. I have never loved anyone as I have loved her. Her laugh is like a song my heart beats along to. Her smile is pretty like a jewel. Her eyes are like suns, although they shine brighter. Her hands have been in mine, and I would do so much to feel her gentle touch again. Her hand in mine, giggling along to a cringey song I haven't listened to in years. It hurts so much. I love her more than I could ever say, and to love her in silence is to destroy myself. But if I tell her, it'll destroy her. I'd rather suffer by myself, as I know she is not in the mental state to deal with this. I can handle it. I always have, so I will handle it now. Johanna, if you're reading this, which you probably never will, it is about you. It's Elliot/Ezra. I've been in love with you since we were nine. My love for you has never wavered. Anyone else I've liked, they've just been people who remind me of you. Beautiful, funny, and nerdy. I love you, and I am so sorry that I do.

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trevengersprincess · 3 days ago

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ℳ𝓎 𝒽ℯ𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓎ℯ𝒶𝓇𝓃𝓈 𝒻ℴ𝓇 ℴ𝓊𝓇 ℯ𝒸𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈ℯ

c.w: fluff. cute shit, f!reader

a/n: thought about doing this series for a while. I hope this is something new to look forward to and that you guys might like. these poems or lines are from my favorite poetry books. just starting off small for now with two books, hopefully I can expand more

w.c: 652

Standing on the other side of the hallway was him, the boy you adored. Although, he doesn't know you. You don't know him much. You've heard so much about him. He's in a gang, strong, there for his friends. He sounds absolutely perfect. His laugh makes you want to laugh, even if you don't know what you are laughing about. His smile is contagious, brightening up even your darkest days. He is the sun, your sunlight. You both live in different worlds. Both at the edge of the world but still don't meet. Even though he doesn't know, he is the reason you are here.

Seeing even just a glimpse of him in your day, it makes your heart flutter like no other. No one has ever made you feel this way before. You didn't believe in things like love at first sight. Just fairy tales and stories for children to believe in such things. You didn't think it was actually true until you saw him. His soft hair, his gorgeous eyes, ones you can get lost in forever, his smile, his laugh, him. Everything reminds you of him, but you're too scared to say anything to him. You admire him from afar, thinking it's better this way. Until he catches you looking at him.

"You've been staring at me for a while. Is something wrong?" He says once he's right in front of you. Your cheeks flush a rosy red, looking down at the desk you are in. You can't seem to find the right words to say, which makes him continue. "What's your name?"

"Y-Y/N..." You respond as you look at him. He repeats your name, and you almost melt at how your name falls from his lips. Your face flushes red at his next words.

"Y/N...Starting today, we are friends, okay?" You are too baffled to say anything and he leaves, claiming to see you again soon.

Who would've thought it would lead you to where you two are now. At the end of the pier, sitting and watching the moon cast its light on the water. It's reflection highlighting his beautiful features. He had asked you to come out, wanting to ask you something important.

"Y/N...Be my girlfriend, yeah?" Your heart almost stops at his words. Did you hear that correctly? He was asking you to be his girlfriend. Oh, how you longed for this day, and it was truly happening.

"Y-Yeah...I-I'd like that..." You say, moving closer to him. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, continuing to stare out at the water. Both of you enjoying each other's company and the comfortable silence.

"Y/N, how long have you liked me?" He asks you, looking down at you as you look up at him.

"...For a while now. Ever since I first saw you in the hallways of our school." You answered honestly which makes him hum softly.

"And what was your first thought about me?" He asked, curious as it must've been a long time you had harbored your feelings.

"It may sound cheesy or..."too much" but it reminded me of a poem. It goes, 'We are standing at the edge of the world, and yet, we still do not meet. You are soaked in daylight, and I, am covered in night. My heart yearns for our eclipse.'" You say, blushing. His eyes soften at your words, cupping your face as he looks into your eyes.

"Well, your heart doesn't need to yearn anymore. Our eclipse is happening right now, and it will never end." He says before leaning down and kissing your lips softly.

You never expected this to happen. But you know, you would never change it in every timeline no matter how much people offer you. You could never trade your love for Manjiro, even if they offered you all the money in the world.

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @nyxe9206 @yourefavsakura @mikeys-bike-slut

wanna join the taglist? click here to go to the post and join! link

#𝒮𝓊𝓃ℛ𝒶𝓎☀️ 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉ℯ𝓈 #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #mikey my love 🥺❤️#manjiro sano #tokrev

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judasiskariot · 2 days ago

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@judasiskariot and @bhaal-battle-beer-bard personal "Being grateful"

I just wanted to sit down and take a moment to look at all the things I can be grateful for.

A lot has happened this year, bad things, really bad things. On top the last few days and weeks in particular have been unnecessary...complicated again. But I can't help but see that, unlike others, I can't laugh bitterly when it comes to expressing gratitude and seeing the good things.

And there are many, very many of them good things. Every small thing matters.

You just have to want to see them. (It is not always easy, that is ok)

But if you decide to find just one thing every day that you're grateful for and that made you smile, you'll find it. Try it. It becomes more and more easier.

And yes, I may sound like a fortune cookie and that may sound absolutely annoying and superficial and you can ignore me if you like.

But maybe it will help someone. Maybe someone needed to hear that today.

There were accidents, there were losses, but when I think about the year, the last months, weeks and days, I see the moments that made me smile. Celebrate the small moments and not the big tragedies to burden your heart. I am sure you had many victories that you just haven't seen yet.

For example after 10 years of silence I am reconnected with an old friend of mine, like no time was lost.

There is wonderful @aristenfromwarsaw with whom every conversation is a dream 😊

@alpydk without them tumblr already seems not like the same anymore 😄

I can't get enough of rambling with @yennefer-of-vengerbergs about anything! Most fun! 😁🤗

Lovely @pinkberrytea being my mutual is still incredible and unbelievable🤩😍🤩 You lovely human being 😘

@heytheresunflower always has a hug for me 🫂 so as @anacdoce blushing words on works that make me faint 🥹

And @goromimii without her I would never been able to write with all those wonderful persons. It all started with you and I know you always got my back when I need to 😘

@blazingsaza you are just part of my tumblr brain chemistry and also outer space 😄 Writing with you is a joy 💙

And so many other moots.

I just wanted to let you know that you are amazing and taking the chance to tell you I appreciate you.

Small things, small moments.

But for me they are worth being thankful for.

And great interactions and people are just a message away and when I think about what you could miss if you hadn't sent that message 😭😰😱😢 So if you don't know whether to write to someone: Do it! A wonderful conversation is just a Hello! away. Don't let fear and insecurities take that away from you.

Let people know when they had an impact on you, that you love them. They don't know it out of the blue, you have to tell them.

I know it takes courage to go straight up to people and compliment them, to say you did a great job, I'm proud of you. (It's so sad that it is like that, but it is)

But please do that.

Do that more often. Take a heart.

Just one kind word can save someone's whole day, their whole week.

It gives so much energy.

Just a kind word, a smile, can make a difference for someone.

And joy and love always increase when you give them to someone.

(Yeah, there are better options than the end of the year and it shouldn't take this to be grateful and to reflect, but unfortunately I didn't get around to it before. And I may sound like a dumb inspirational sayings calendar, but if it helps just one person not to end the year sad or frustrated, or it makes someone smile, then it has served its purpose. All I wanted to say is, that it is normal that we can't see the beauty of the world when darkness is deep within us. And at the end of the year, many people feel that way. It makes me sad to see this. And I just wanted to let you know that the wonders of the world are not disappearing, but are waiting for you when you are ready to see them again. But maybe one or the other needs a little reminder. Maybe I could help them with that. I would be happy. Maybe delete later because I don't know if my blather should be in the void out there.)

#personal #judasiskariot #judasiskariot speaking #bhaal battle beer bard #bhaal battle beer bard speaking #moots #mutuals #tumblr mutuals #You matter #2024 #thanking

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autumnbrambleagain · 2 days ago

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okay so first off don't listen to me because i am a freak who has to struggle to not play 250 glimmer moon kings and therefore my tastes are not and should not be propagated to the masses,

but don't change anything, that Call to Arms is now a two-stage combat with a regular phase and a walking-wounds phase is just fantastic and takes what is a scenario that an experienced player can often clear with 0 casualties and turns it into a distressing chaos that you can never truly be in complete control over, that is just fantastic. there is no feeling more beautiful than killing your enemy and seeing their corpse glisten and whisper and having to pause and say, ah. okay. now this.

they're Pretty Scary early on, but once you're at level ~15 the low-level enemies aren't really anything much. the EMP casters and some of the rarer higher-tier enemies remain pretty spooky but again honestly i am a moon king who fights armies of star krakens on my way to breakfast don't take advice from me.

templar histsites can get pretty Rough Tho but in a way where I'm honestly wishing every game had a guaranteed one so i could go through the nightmare terror that is a disjecta historical site. Qud has a dearth of Bespoke Problem Zones like Golgotha and Bethsusa, and having a gimmick site of "everyone you kill makes 5 new problems for you" is honestly a really strong and fun gimmick

and yeah as for the theme-ing it's honestly kind of beautiful in a Quddish way how it ended up not matching up, like, one of the entire themes of Qud is how the past is something we quickly forget and build new mythologies over and the past is always gone and it's become the present and it is a thing wholly of the present and the desires of the present

we murder the past and use its bones to make what we need today, and it's just kind of a coincidence that it looks like the past and we call it the past. but it isn't. it never was. it's just now.

like the line "He unbricked the walls of monocracy so we could pick berries in the orchards they hid." has such an incredible dramatic irony now, but also it's that that IS what we NEEDED Resheph to BE in these our modern times. that isn't what they actually were in the past, but modern day Resheph is a thing OF the modern day, so like,

having the disjecta entities talking like that honestly feels like it works in a way where it's not actually a lost echo of the past but the modern memetic conceptualization of the situation and how we in these our modern times (1000ar) think it WOULD be. it is a disease sapience that has also fallen prey to what everyone else does in Qud:

it's made a cult of a misremembered past built of and suiting to the present, and never once considered it could be wrong

and diegetically and within the context of itself that's honestly still pretty beautiful.

Favourite caves of qud mods? I wanna dive in and fully mod my game

I don't have the energy to turn these into hyperlinks so you have to do the work of typing these names into the workshop and finding them, I apologize that I am not apologizing.

Hearthpyre and the Clever Girl Fork are obvious necessities. Starapple Valley and Regrowing Plants and Qud Fishing is on that list too for being able to make your own imprint on the world. With how the uh, story's themes go, I am even more feeling validated in my decision to spend most of the game building bases and farming and stuff.

Dynamic Background Color because I don't even remember what the game looks like without it anymore. I think I use the More Dots mod too.

Allography lets you add descriptions to things, including yourself, which is great.

1 Percent Loot Drops adds a ton of neat, very balanced items.

Cleaning Robots lets you have robots that clean fluids and I honestly just wish one in on EVERY settlement so they don't become giant messes after one visit. Indispensable mod.

Choose Your Fighter is good if you aren't a lunatic like me who just makes your own phenotypes and sprites and pets and dialogue for every character you play.

Jademouth is what I would argue to be the best, most diegetically natural town mod in the game. It adds very little to the world outside of itself, and adds a very much needed mid-game town with a fun quest and good characters. None of the writing feels out of place, it doesn't add encounters all over the map, it keeps to its own lane and does an great job of it.

Cryptogeology is an incredibly good quest which helps guide you to each town in the game naturally, has a ton of flavor, and a really decent reward. It feels like a natural part of the game.

Tealeaves adds a much-needed merchant to the Six Day Stilt who is also very well written and lets you get a chance at Newly Sentient Beings rep.

Issachari Evolved adds much needed variety to that faction.

Nightmare Treats gives you a lot more ways to reroll mutations, AND ways to gain mental stats. Eat them. It's safe. Nothing bad will happen.

Wired Child is a fun mid-late stage quest in Ezra that gets you a VERY nice weapon if you can manage it.

Return of the Arcwyrk. You need more enemies in your life. zzzap.

Knife Fights at Eddy's is mandatory, I'm sorry I don't make the rules.

A Specter is Haunting Qud adds some VERY nasty enemies and you deserve to be killed by them. Things should be scarier. Get scared. Basically Templar Hologram Wraith Knights but they're Eater ghosts. Fucked up! I won't tell you how to beat them figure it out yourself.

Village Finder because I hate the "go to each parasang and press + and then -" when looking for villages. Am I that dumb my character can't notice villages when walking through them.

Folk Scrap and Mundanity. Mandatory. Very flavorful.

Baboons of Babel adds much needed variety to baboon faction.

Judicators of Qud add a fun neat challenging robot who is kind of like if a leering stalker and a feral lah had a baby that wasn't the sum of its parts but something all its own.

Disjecta Membra's lore feels a little out of sync with 1.0, and it makes the game a giant mess. So basically, enemies can be infected, and when they die things get Interesting. It can cause huge problems and it's a fucking mess. It can make Call to Arms an unworkable disaster and Templar historical sites become unmanageable. I love it. I cannot play without it. It makes the game so much more challenging and stressful, especially in the early/midgame. The writing is fucking incredible even if its flavor doesn't line up exactly right anymore. Do not do this on your first playthrough but after your first playthrough install this and suffer with me forever. This might be my favorite new-content mod tbh.

Your Own Personal Relics is a neat adjustment to the Item Naming system which honestly I just wish-name things when I mod them to max anyway but it's neat.

Feline's Furnishings are good tiles.

Fluid Storage is great and the Klein Bottles are fantastic and putting 500 drams in their weightless moebius will never go wrong for you ever.

I think that should do you with the unimax's share of the mods I use!

Sidenote, Eule does a lot of mods that are Very Cool but also last time I used them they had a problem of all of them would spawn things in the jungle, so with all of them active every jungle screen would have like, their populations taken over by all the Argent Somethingorother and the Unseen Adversaries and the Arboreta Guys. None of them work with 1.0 anyway I don't think, and the mods ARE very high quality! But their spawn rates were extremely overpowering to the point where the jungle was basically just entirely made of those 3 factions and it was a Bit Much.

I'm also about to try out the Labyrinthine Trail and Xeototin Mechanical Somethingorother for the first time but I haven't done them yet so i have no comment.

Also Facial Equipment Diversity is neat too.

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