#but you just KNOW you would love her i mean even the glow stick in his sprite art is LIGHT BLUE LIKE HER?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

The “We are the 99%” Tumblr blog became the slogan for the Occupy Wall Street movement.

#but you just KNOW you would love her i mean even the glow stick in his sprite art is LIGHT BLUE LIKE HER??

oftenderweapons · 1 year

Text

In Your Calvin's | JJK

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)

Wordcount: 9.6k

Genre: smut, fluff, pwp, established relationship

Rating: 18+ Minors, do not interact

Synopsis: Being Jeon Jeongguk's girlfriend is a great honour, but it comes with great responsibilities. When the commercial celebrating your boyfriend (very secret boyfriend) starts playing on everyone's and their mother's phones, it's time you face what it means to be loved by the most wanted idol of them all.

Warnings: Jealousy and general possessiveness. Swearing. Powerplay, switch!reader, switch!jk. Masochist!jk (?). Marking (hickey, writing on body with a pen), hair pulling (male receiving), edging (male receiving), spanking (male and female receiving). Teasing. Mild degradation. Dry humping. A very mild boobjob. Breast worship. Unprotected foreplay, oral sex (female receiving; brief male receiving), unprotected sex (be smarter, kids), rough sex. Mentions of cockring.

One last thing: 1. this was edited at 3am, please bear with me. 2. Sidenote: I try to be as neutral as possible with the way I describe the girls' appearance, however I wanted to specify that in this fic, I mention Candy having long, straight hair (and huge badonkers, but that's kinda canon by now LOL). It's just a brief mention, absolutely nothing major and holds no relevance to the fic, you might not even notice it; but still, I wanted to make sure I thought about my curly haired goddesses, and short haired queens, (or a combo of both heart eyes) and that I apologise for making this fic just a pinch less immersive for you. (Is this the right moment to apologise to small boobs princesses too? ily sisters, itty bitty titty committee 5evah)

Here's my masterlist, lemme just disappear very quickly. Enjoy 💜✨

You knew Jeongguk had a gig with Calvin Klein. You've known it for months. You've seen him cut calories and hit the gym and dehydrate for a couple days before the shoot because he explained to you how muscle definition works, and crucial to showing a great slab of abs is being basically as dry as a breadstick, to the point of being cranky because you have drunk three glasses of water in the last forty-eight hours.

Which all means, you knew his stomach would be quite surely showing.

And yet your world still stops once you're merrily sitting on your train back home and his half undressed form appears on the screen on your phone.

At first you slam your phone shut, mostly because you're used to hiding your boyfriend away and that's the reaction you usually have when you open one of his flirty pics from your chat.

Next, you realise you weren't on your private chat, and you weren't even looking at pictures in your phone gallery.

You were absentmindedly scrolling. On Instagram.

You unlock your phone again, and right there you're confronted with the very naked truth.

Jeongguk. Is basically naked. On your phone. And it's for the entire world to see.

Your brain slows down, as if the earth axis is tipping over a little in the opposite way.

Something inside you snaps around the third time the video plays in front of your unseeing eyes. To anyone looking at you, you could be just an obsessed fan taking a close look at the fine piece of art, but your eyes are unfocused, your mind too deep in thought to register any stimulus from the external world.

The vibration from the phone awakens you from your state of trance.

“Candy, baby,” says the adorable lover boy calling you. “Have you seen it already?”

Your lips are sealed, and you can't quite bring yourself to speak, you don't know why.

“I'm on my way back home.” You say, and the words feel like cracking a glow stick in your chest.

“But did you see it?” His voice isn't as bright now.

“I'm coming home.” You repeat.

He's silent for a few seconds, and you can hear him sigh. “Okay.”

“He's so insanely hot,” you overhear a girl sitting across from you comment.

“I want to run my palms down the sides of his waist,” says her friend.

You stare at them and you know you must look like a woman possessed right now, but you still allow yourself to incinerate them with a glare, as if your eyes could turn into flamethrowers.

“Candy?”

“I'll be home in ten.” And you close the call.

On the way back home, you hear more people talk. More girls fawn. More women zoom in.

On the escalator, you notice a woman fanning herself while staring at the screen. Another one even crosses herself as the ad from your boyfriend reruns on her phone screen.

Every step on your way home is utter agony, and once you step over the threshold, you're not sure what you're going to do.

Jeongguk is in the kitchen in a sleeveless top, tattoos out, piercings glowing in the gentle light of the living room. And his hair is fluffy, which means he's probably just done blow drying it after taking a shower.

The fact that the scent of his body lotion is still sharp gives you further indication of how recent that shower must be.

“Hey,” he says, turning towards you with a bunny grin, which immediately dims once he sees your expression. “Oh. Bad day?”

You bite your lip and stare at him a fair bit. Then, a bit more.

“Candy, love.”

You don't know what to do with him. Is he yours? Is he really yours?

How come you come home to him making dinner, and being freshly showered, and being so domestic? How come you're living in his apartment, knowing his pass code, having an ID card for his apartment complex and his studio at HYBE? How come he gives you a copy of his schedule and talks about you over the phone on his weekly call to his grandmother and brings you to his parents' house? How come you go on trips together and you're the emergency contact to his fur babies and you make love two to four times a week? How come he's brought you to the town he grew up in and loved you down in the place where he lost his virginity because, "I wish it had been you since the very first time"?

Who is this man?

Is he Jungkook from Bangtan Sonyeondan? Or is he Jeon Jeongguk, your very own quiet, shy, reserved lover boy?

“You're scaring me,” he whispers, putting down his wooden spoon and taking a few steps to stand in front of you.

“Why me?” you ask, staring at his collarbones, too scared to look into his eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asks back, sheepish.

This time your eyes meet his. “Why me? Of all the women out there, why me?” You look down, taking in just how average you feel, every imperfection magnified in your eyes, now that you have so many people you're comparing yourself with, and competing with.

“Candy—” He starts.

“Everyone, everyone out there is literally foaming at the mouth at that commercial, and I'm here? I come home to you? I make love to you almost every night?” You pause and laugh bitterly at him. “I'm a fucking fraud.”

He shakes his head and moves closer, grabbing your wrists. “A fraud, you say?” He tuts in disappointment, places your hands on his waist. “You're not a fraud, ____, you're my soulmate.” He leaves your hands once he feels them clutch at his narrow waist.

Possessiveness hits you all of a sudden, and it is only mildly ebbed by his hands landing at the top of your ass.

“I love you, and I make love to you because it's a fucking dream. You're a fucking dream, and I'm so upset that you don't see it.”

You're jealous. You're simply jealous. It's human and it's healthy to be moderately jealous. After all the comments you heard and read, it's fair to be jealous.

“I reckon you saw the commercial.”

“I saw the commercial and everyone's reaction to it,” you comment, slightly acidic.

Jeongguk bends to place a kiss below your earlobe. “Are you angry?”

No. Not just anger.

Your hands mimic his and crawl to his lower back, toying with the hemline of his underwear. “I'm not mad.” I'm disgustingly jealous and I don't like them having more of what's mine. They already have too much, they've always wanted too much and you always give it to them and I'm furious that it's not mine alone.

Jeongguk wears a mischievous smile as he makes you take several small steps back, the back of your legs hitting the kitchen counter. “Do you like it?”

You click your tongue and shake your head. “No.”

The reply startles him, and he feels his mood dim. Did he—

“I'm not a jealous person, but this… God, this hits a new level,” you finally admit. “They already drool over you quite enough, and now they even have a video of you shirtless. How would I not be jealous!? Half the girls would have snapped your neck. If Yoongi ever did this, Kitten would have his balls dangling from her Mercedes keychain. I don't even know how Lace and Princess are handling their boyfriends naked on everyone's phone. If I were Tae I would seek political asylum in Greenland. Or maybe Tibet.” You take a large mouthful of oxygen before you launch yourself in another tirade.

“Everyone's talking about grabbing your waist, licking your abs, tugging at your hair and shit and hi! I'm here! I'm the girlfriend! Sorry I exist! WHAT THE FUCK!?”

Jeongguk laughs and lowers himself to your chest, kissing where your heartbeat echoes like a crazed war drum.

“It's not fun!” you complain, significantly agitated.

“Mh.” He hums as he moves aside the hem of your shirt, meeting the soft, smooth skin of your chest. “It was supposed to come out on your birthday, that's why's a bit more racy,” he explains more patiently. “But they decided to release it early.” He kisses a tender spot and your left knee tingles a little. “It was supposed to be a slightly too public boudoir shoot. But secretly it was just yours.” Jeongguk finds the cup of your bra and stares up at you as his fingers reach the hem and slide the fabric aside. “I was thinking of you when I made it.”

And once his mouth wraps around your nipple, your right knee starts tingling too.

“Must admit I had to push the limits a lot to finally make you jealous,” he purrs once he is done with the licking, sucking motion of his mouth around your tender flesh. “But I'm sorry I crossed the line.”

What line? You think, your brain already hazy. No sharp line exists in the world you’re currently in. Just the loving, plush hills of Jeongguk's lips, the slippery slopes of his waistline, the sinuous curves of his hip bones leading you to his pelvis, and the soft curls of his luscious dark locks. No crossed borders, only gentle waves licking the shore, water and land embracing one the other.

“Remind me who's the boss here, Candy,” he says, and you know he's playing you right now. “Remind me where I belong.” His mouth is at your ear as he whispers, “Show me who owns me.”

The tingles are spreading as his fingers grab at your ass, his lips connecting with your jaw. “Talk to me, Candy.”

You’re not sure you can articulate words at this moment. Talking isn’t as easy as everyone makes it seem.

His eyes connect with yours and he can tell you’re staring at his lips by the poetic detail of your lashes lowered over your cheekbone.

It makes him chuckle, very gently, that he has all these details of you he adores, and that you have the audacity of asking him why he picked you, and why he keeps choosing you over and over.

He loves you, his family loves you, his dogs love you. This is the way it’s supposed to be.

His finger reaches underneath your chin, forcing your eyes to actually meet his. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he purrs, and as your lashes dart up, he shakes his head a little, loving the way you arch up a fraction, as if pulled towards him. “There she is, beautiful.”

You feel completely neutralised. Disarmed. All the storms brewing over you a minute ago are forgotten as soon as his sweet smile shines like sunlight above you.

His hand combs your hair back, cupping your cheek and landing a kiss on your temple. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod.

“What mood are we in?” You’ve asked him this question thousands of times since the two of you became serious, ever since he opened up about feeling too closed off to make a relationship work; and now, the fact that it was such a solid, valid ritual in your dynamics made it natural for him to ask too. “You need to talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I’m better. I…”

“Tell me what you want.”

You stare at him, at his shoulders, at his biceps, you trace his tattoo with your fingertip, and he looks closely at your finger, at it drawing swirls and circles on his skin.

“Pick me up,” you say softly.

And he does, immediately. His biceps flex and he grunts a little, not at the weight, but just because he knows the sound can make your toes curl, and he likes that a lot. His hands are wrapped around the back of your thighs, then they adjust to your bottom.

“Next? Counter? Bed? Shower?”

You kiss him. Impatient, and needy, you kiss him.

He opens up for you without hesitation, moaning at the sweet invasion of your tongue in his mouth. God, he loves it. It makes him melt, to feel your tongue slip against his, moving wet and sloppy, your lips plush and hot pressed up against him. He loves kissing you. Actually, he loves making out with you. He’s pretty sure he could come of that alone, and he tries to remind himself you have to give that a try. Another day.

He places you onto the counter because he fears his knees might give out on him. And once he has you there it means his hands can roam all over you and grab your chest and toy with—

“No touching,” you snap at him, gripping his wrists and pulling his hands behind his back.

His eyes go wide at the shift in pace, but he obeys. He also feels like he's awakening from a dream only to find out reality can be so much better.

You dig your hands in his hair and he hisses a little as you tug gently, but still roughly. You think of all the people who wish they could do just so as you stare into his eyes, seeing just how turned on he gets as you manhandle him.

You lean towards him and you notice him trying to kiss you, but you tug at his hair harder, holding him in place as the heat of your exhale fans over his parted lips and his chin.

“You want me to own you?” you ask him, watching his muscles twitch as he fights the urge to grab you and put you in place.

He nods. “Do me all the things no one else can.” He has a roguish smile as he adds, “Do me everything they won't ever, ever do to me.” And he is god of deception when he finally tips you over the edge. “Do me everything I want just from you, and you alone.”

You watch him intently, then tug at his hair so that his head is angled upwards, throat vulnerable and exposed.

He's staring at you with a mischievous glint in his expression, a walking temptation, and you can almost hear him say it, 'come on, do it'. And you do it.

You bend forward and sink your teeth in his flesh, the tender skin caving in as your bite marks him softly before your cheeks move into a suctioning motion that you know will turn into a bruise. It just pleases you so.

“Take a step back,” you order as soon as you're happy with the hickey. “Take off your shirt.”

And he winks before he does. You watch the plain of his chest, the valley in between his pectorals leading you down to his navel.

“I hope you're wearing your Calvin's,” you tease with a cocked eyebrow.

He smirks. “Always in my Calvin's.”

You snicker and shake your head. “Take off your pants.”

His forehead scrunches up in surprise, but he eventually obeys.

He's standing in a pair of socks and his white boxer briefs. At least he didn't lie, they are Calvin Klein.

“Do you want—”

“The Calvin's stay on,” you sentence, then you descend from the counter. “Head over to the bedroom. I'll come over in a minute.”

He stares at you, flabbergasted.

“Oh, and I almost forgot: don't touch yourself. Settle down, hands on the headboard and wait pretty.”

He blinks, unsure of where this is going to end or where it came from, but so blazingly grateful for it.

“Okay.”

You give him a quick once-over as you stand in front of each other. His abs are toned and defined, but now less alarmingly than the days before the shoot. His thighs are strong and you love how the material from the boxers wraps around them comfortably and smoothly.

You dare stare at his crotch, at the way the fabric traces the curve of his length, so perfectly long and so perfectly thick.

You allow your fingertips to trace the curve of his spine, so lightly that it causes him to close his eyes, his head inched to the side as he shivers in pleasure.

“Can I be rough with you?” you ask him, your hand reaching the small of his back and cupping the curve of his ass.

He moves his hands on you the exact same way you did. “Maybe I like pain,” he suggests, and from the collection of tattoos and piercings, but mostly from the supercut of memories of him getting bitten, spanked and scratched by you, you’re reminded that you’re not dealing with the edited version of him he has promoted publicly.

This is your boyfriend. Jeongguk. Your Jeongguk.

You sink your nails into the flesh of his ass, and he hisses but smiles, pulling you closer, swaying his hips to tease your crotch with his. “Go get ready, babyboy,” you croon.

He hums invitingly and kisses your neck, trying to get you to move with him, but you’ve made up your mind already.

“Go,” you repeat.

He pouts and grabs your hips. “Come on, what are you trying to do?” he asks, his brow furrowed, his eyes dark and wide and imploring for you to just follow him and spare him whatever cruel surprise you want to use against him.

You grab his wrists, making him unclasp his hands. “Go and you’ll find out.”

He hesitates and then he faces away, still reluctant, turning around a couple times on his way, checking if you’re following him — perhaps, maybe, hopefully…

Yet, you don’t move, not until he turns the corner to the bedroom. And then you make your way over, slow, unbothered.

And you close the door on him.

You head to the bathroom, wash up quickly, and equally quickly you cover yourself in his favourite lotion, taking special care of your neck and chest. Once properly buttered up and covered in nothing but pretty Calvin undies and his favourite Calvin jeans jacket, you’re ready to attack. But you stare at yourself in the mirror, and you feel like there’s still something you could do to give him a heart attack…

Oh, that, you think. And you get to work.

Apparently he has behaved, as you find him lounging in bed, with his boxers still on, his hands laced behind the crown of his head, a fine slab of abs in full glow from the dark amber hue coming from his led lights.

“Are we on a sunset gold kinda vibe— Holy shit.” He didn’t manage to sound as cool and aloof as he’d tried to be once his eyes landed on you.

He wished he could take a picture of you and spread it across town, just so he could stare at it while waiting for a bus, or hanging out at Hongdae with his friends, and excitedly point at it while tipsy to holler “that’s my fucking girlfriend, that fine piece of ass fucking owns me”.

He wished he could put you on an album cover and fill it with all the insane stuff you do to his heart and his mind and his body. How his heartbeat does a little hiccup thing when he sees you first thing in the morning, and how he’s spent every wish on fallen eyelashes over you, and making you happy, and building you a house and having fireworks for your wedding night, and having all his fans seeing just how incredibly fantastic you are to him, how you make him so happy and deliriously smitten and barely coherent when it comes to talking about you, and just… He just wants everyone to love you half as much as he does.

And maybe for you to be only ever in love with him, so he doesn’t risk anyone thirsting for you enough to steal you from him.

“What were you saying about golden lights?” you ask, climbing on the bed, your hand modestly holding the lapels of his jeans jacket together — it’s not time to destroy him yet.

“I— I…” He tries to sit up, but you push him back where he belongs with a well-placed hand pressed to the middle of his chest.

“Put on the red lights, love.” You grin devilishly, watching his doe eyes glimmer with wonder and disbelief.

“Have I ever told you I am one lucky motherfucker?” he says, staring at your neck, at your face, at your hand, his palms already moving to your hips as you straddle him.

“I just know it.” You sit on your throne — his lap —, stretch to the end table to grab the remote to switch the lights to red, and once the deal is settled, you let the jacket open. “I mean. I’m the luckiest because I have these, but considering you profit from them… You know…” You let your breasts show.

“I know…” he says, entirely mesmerised. God, he is so easy, you think, watching his eyes scan your chest like a cat playing catch with a laser light. You mix your standard level of charm with a slow grind of your hips, so slow and gentle that it’s straight up teasing, torture at its blandest level.

“You make it so hard to think,” he speaks with a strangled voice, trying to make you move the way he wants, but you grab his hands with the excuse of lacing your fingers with his, only to drag them back by the sides of his head.

“I didn’t know I could turn your brain into mush just like this,” you reply, feeling your folds moisten in an attempt to ease the sliding of your crotch against his length. Too bad both of you are still clad in your underwear and, according to your plans, would stay that way for quite a while, as long as possible. “You’re so whipped.”

“I am,” he purrs, and tries to get away with moving his hands back to your hips, but before he can dig his digits in the soft of your flesh, you tut.

“You’d better not touch that ass, Jeon. Keep your hands to yourself if you want my hands on you,” you threaten. “Just to remind you who’s in charge, sweetheart.”

His eyes go wide and he moves his palms back behind his head as soon as you finish your remark. “Yes, miss.”

“Good boy,” you praise him, and you visibly notice him holding back from smiling at the praise. “Did you see my little mark?” you ask. “Call it a slog

an of sorts. A vision statement.” You shrug and push back the lapels, hoping for the lights not being too low for him to see.

It has taken a while for your handy work to happen, mostly because it can be absurdly tricky writing in reverse, but thankfully you’re quite prone to graphic arts.

Jeongguk rises a little, getting closer to where he can recognise dark scribbles on your chest. Unusual dark scribbles.

“Is that… Tattooed?” he asks, and his eyes go wide as he meets your face.

You cackle at him, leaning over and licking his lips, sucking his lower one, then travelling along his jaw, nibbling at his earlobe in a way that makes his hips jolt against you, buckling. “I can't have that tattooed, can I? Unless the world knows and it gets a little too permanent.”

He frowns, not at the way he loses contact with your warm crotch, but because of the unwelcome realisation of what it means to not belong to you entirely. “I'm so sorry,” he sighs, trying to hold you, but stopping his hands before he can touch you.

He goes back to his assigned position and begs you with his eyes.

“Oh, no. Don't worry, it's okay.” To keep him distracted, you get back to a soft roll of your pelvis against his, and he seems to oppose, but it only lasts for maybe five seconds.

His wound-up exhale convinces you to reward him further, lowering your chest so that it drags against his as you keep grinding on him.

“Jeongguk, baby,” you murmur fondly.

“So unfair… That I don’t get you like a girlfriend like anyone else…” He speaks, his focus spotty and frail.

“What do you mean, love?” you egg him on.

“All the public stuff… All the PDA and the grand gestures. The stuff that makes it official, you know.” His eyes are glassy and fleeting as he speaks, and it really feels as if speaking were like making a necklace except he can’t quite line up the beads the right way and he can’t manage to get the string inside the hole and it takes a very long time for the words to finally turn into meaning and it’s all so frustrating.

“I don’t care,” you reassure him, and this time you’re not unaffected either, the sentence stumbling out of you before you can even fully register the meaning you were trying to convey. “Can you read the tattoo, Guk?”

His eyelids lift through great effort, and in slow motion. You stop moving to help him focus on the writing, and he grunts at the interruption. He does not like that at all, and having you so close, so soft, so hot and wet for him is making his instinct vibrate with need to be inside you, move inside you, and then finally find his release in the welcoming darkness of your womb.

“I—” He’s really trying so hard, god bless his heart, but he’s so unfocused and his vision is blurry and he needs to blink for a bunch of seconds before he manages to spell the message, and then compute it, and then smirk wildly before he bucks his hips up against you, letting you know that you’d better move on him.

“What is it, Jeongguk? Mind sharing with the class?” you bait him with a cheshire grin.

“Not sharing any of this,” he growls, and you can feel his arms jolt at the urgency to wrap around you, press you to his front and shove you underneath him, so that he can finally move as hard and as fast as he knows the both of you need.

“Oh, don’t be a greedy little boy! Don’t you want to test how it feels to say it?” you tease him further, ready to push him to his breaking point. After all, that is what you’re always trying to do, get as far as it needs to make him go wild on you, barely coherent and entirely animalistic.

“You want me to say it, don’t you?” he provokes you, feeling just how much the humiliation will further send you soaring over him.

“I do,” you admit.

He bites his lip and you look at him, you study the shape of his lips, the glint in his eyes, the dark shimmering of his lovely ebony locks, and the way his chest heaves with effort and arousal. “These tits own Jeon Jeongguk,” he speaks, his gaze piercing yours, holding you accountable for the undoing he knows will follow.

“That’s right, isn’t it?” Your smile is sardonic, evilly pleased with his admission of submission, with him confirming, with conviction, that he is indeed entirely enslaved to his fascination for your chest, that he is so deeply enticed by it that just a silly part of you can guarantee you his unflinching devotion.

“You know it’s right,” he grunts as your movements resume. And at this point, he knows this is going to take a while, and it will most surely turn out vicious.

“Just checking in on you, making sure you haven’t found a better pair—”

“Don’t you dare talk to them like this. Not in front of me,” he hisses with a passion, and you chuckle at how chivalrously he defends your breasts from your own ill assumptions.

“That’s so gallant of you,” you reply, your hands pulling his hair back, your tone fond and just vaguely lined with mocking. “Let them repay you for your kindness,” you suggest, as you start crawling down his body, your breasts landing heavily on his lap.

“Really…?” he asks, first distracted and then extremely alert as he connects the dots. “With my boxers on?” He says with a frown.

You shrug and smirk. “Maybe we’ll get rid of them later…” You sprinkle some kisses on his abdomen, your chest dragging against his sensitive parts.

He frowns at the weight of them, so welcome, and yet deceiving as the fabric is hindering him from fully enjoying the act. “Please, off,” he huffs, tutting and fussing a little, but you decide to reward his patience with your nails tracing patterns against his chest, your fingertips drawing his areolae, your eyes hungry on his lost, bewildered state.

“Not yet, love… Be patient with me,” you reassure him, tracing the rift in between the crests of his hips, one side, then the others, ricocheting between the bones on the two sides. “I’m going to make it so good to you,” you promise him, placing kisses all around the underrated perfection of his belly button — a huge ‘fuck you’ to the people salivating over him and never, ever knowing how such a minuscule inch of his body has you so irreversibly whipped.

“Candy… Mh, love—” His voice has grown unbearably raspy and airy, so light it feels almost incorporeal, if it weren’t for the velvet smoothness of his skin underneath your lips, like marble that has finally received the breath of life, your boy an ineffable Galatea.

“If you knew, Guk, if only—” kiss— “you knew—” kiss— “how sexy, and erotic, and exciting and poetic you look right now, baby. You look like art.”

“Lemme touch you, I need you, I need—” he gasps and you’re almost expecting him to release a groan before he comes, way too early, much earlier than planned. But fortunately he doesn’t, he holds back stoically and cants his hips away. “For fuck’s sake,” he whispers, an arm covering his eyes. “I need a second if you need me to hold back.”

“Oh,” you reply in surprise, lifting yourself off him. “Are you alright?”

“Just give me some quiet for a second, Candy, don’t you dare even speak.” Jeongguk’s chest is rising and falling in wide movements, enticing and captivating.

Finally he removes his arm from his eyes, but he barely makes eye contact.

“Guk?” You ask, worried.

“Just— I’m trying to keep it cool here, love.” He wiggles his body a little, trying to get his boxers to fit a bit less tightly around him. “We should be smarter about this, you know?” His hands clench as he stops himself from reaching for you. “We should get a cockring for next time.”

You ogle him, then smile excitedly. “Really?” you chirp.

“Totally,” he concedes. He smiles even bigger at your smile. “Don’t tell me you bought one already.”

“Uhm… No,” you admit with a pout.

“Dammit. It would have been weird, but I wouldn’t even have complained about it since it would pretty much save my ass right now.” He licks his lips, stares at you some more, and he groans and throws his head back at the renewed flare of arousal after he’d just managed to tone it down a notch.

“I’m so sorry, bunny.”

“I’m alright,” he admits, his tone defeated.

“Is this the right moment to suggest I ride your face?” you say, your grin now sardonic, almost drunk on him and the sight of his body shutting down for you, malfunctioning at the mere touch of you.

He stares at you, wide eyed, nodding energetically, like a kid being asked if they want to visit Disneyland. “Guess it took a half naked commercial to get you to finally ask for it like you own it.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Careful or I can keep going with torturing you. I’m liking it anyway.”

“No no no, come over here,” he says with a stern and determined expression on his face, his hands reaching for the back of your thighs. “I’ve been waiting. Get comfy,” he encourages you, and after some manoeuvring you settle on top of him.

He nods to himself, his nose nuzzling against the crotch of your panties, his mouth opening so he can feel your heat with his tongue, trying to get as close as possible.

Unsatisfied, his fingers reach to slip your panties to the side, but you slap at his hand.

“Nope. You wanted the Calvin’s, and we’re keeping the Calvin’s,” you scold him.

He frowns. “No, you were the one wanting them,” he argues. “Keep them on, you said.”

“Whatever.” You arch an eyebrow at him, but you also know he’s right and this decision has come to bite you in the ass. “Imagine how good it will feel once we take them off… And it feels a bit kinky to keep them on. Like… Like we’re having a quickie and everyone out there is waiting for model Jeongguk to come out anytime now, but once he does, well, he looks freshly fucked and everyone can’t stop talking about it— Oh, that!” you moan, your musings interrupted by Jeongguk trying to get bits of you in his mouth.

You’re thankful for the brazilian cut panties giving him plenty of stuff to work with even with the underwear still on.

“Stop me if it’s lewd but, dammit, I love the smell of you.” He drags his face side to side, basking in the damp, salty scent of your arousal. “I don’t even know what it is about it, but I like it so much.”

“Keep doing whatever you’re doing,” you comment, your voice breathy.

“Do you want me to keep talking?” he asks, and you just rub yourself against his chin, his mouth, and his words come out muffled. At some point you think you might have hurt his nose, so you ease the pressure a little, but he grabs handfuls of your butt and keeps you snug to his face, parts his lips wider as if he were really trying to eat you.

He parts from his designed heaven only long enough to announce, “I’m pushing ‘em to the side, fuck it.” And you’re barely coherent, and he’s speaking with that intimate lisp of his, his accent heavy, like he can’t pay too much attention to words anyway.

You don’t oppose.

In seconds, his tongue is tipping inside you, slippery, and so hot, and you moan without even noticing it. Everything is soaked, his chest is covered in perspiration, and so are your thighs.

You dare look down, and his eyes are closed as he is filling all his other senses with the sensation of you.

You bask in the sight of him, one forearm draped against the headboard of the bed, your other hand reaching down, to his fluffy hair currently tickling your inner thigh. You grab it, careful to be right between gentle and aggressive, in that way he finds so pleasant and sexy.

He opens his eyes suddenly, and the moment he finds your eyes already connected with his face, he finds himself more eager to give you just what you need to plunge into oblivion.

He gives you lush, slow licks, from your centre to your most sensitive spot, he takes his time, and moves into more sinuous motions, drawing curve after curve on his way up. He is unrushed, patient, and eloquent. He is luxuriant, explorative, curious.

He loves what he’s doing, and he loves you and he’s showing it, top to bottom, and all the way up again.

“Guk,” you breathe out, and it’s almost a hiccup.

“Yes, I know,” he murmurs against the bend of your inner thigh, right at the fold to your crotch. It’s so private, so sacred. It’s heartbreakingly yours and his and no one else’s. You’re in a shared space where nobody else can tell what you and him know.

“Please,” you manage to say.

He rearranges his arm so he can move two fingers along the seam between your legs, and then they’re inside, and he’s moving them right, rubbing them against the back wall of your entrance.

As you tip your body forward, he moans with his mouth to your clitoris, happy with the new angle, and once you start grinding against him, climbing your way to your climax, he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t go faster, he doesn’t add pressure. He does not change one single thing, and you’re so grateful for the way he has come to understand you, your body, your tells.

“Just right,” you encourage him. “You’re so damn perfect, love— Oh, there.”

That’s the last thing you can remember saying before he sets you off like fireworks. You don’t take much into consideration after that. All is fair, unless he’s holding you back.

You grind, hump, moan, thrash just a little as you get too sensitive and fold in two, your forehead pressed to your wrist on the headboard

as you shake your head ‘no’ but can’t bring yourself to stop from feeling everything he wants you to take.

When you manage to recover, you whisper, “Okay, gimme a second.” And you try to unstraddle his face, but he holds you there, and simply avoids touching your sensitive parts, removing his fingers from inside you.

“Are you alright, Candy?”

You nod and take some large breaths.

He moves your panties back in place, then kisses your mound softly, affectionate, innocent even.

“Can I do anything for you now, love?” He asks with a reverent, caring note in his voice.

You shake your head, still recovering. “Can I lay on top of you?”

“Sure thing,” he says, unlatching from you and leaving some room for you to realign with him, face to face, torso to torso, hip to hip, calf to calf.

He’s still hard as marble, and the gentle grind of your pelvis against his causes him to groan softly.

You press your lips to his to distract him.

The jeans jacket you’re still wearing gives him something to ground himself, his focus aimed entirely at the feeling of the fabric underneath his fingers instead of the humid warmth of your crotch pressed against his.

Just then, you bring your heels underneath your ass, rising to your knees as you swiftly remove your upper garment.

The way his focus moves immediately to your breasts makes you cackle a little, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“Candy, you’ll have to get that tattooed.”

“Nah, too dangerous. They might tell on you.”

He frowns. “You’re right,” he still agrees. Too dangerous. You’re dangerous to him too, and there are not many chances of him keeping some form of dignity if he could at any time see a tattoo calling him out for his undying liaison with your chest.

He catches your wrists, making you lose your balance so that your torso collapses onto his. And he keeps you there, wraps you up in his arms.

“Still jealous, love?” he asks you.

“More than ever,” you admit, and you look into his eyes, recognising the feeling pooling in them.

“I'm only yours,” he swears, kissing the side of your head, whatever he can reach, and it's so tender, so innocent, so magical. “What can I do for you?” he whispers, flirting with you.

You wrap your hands around his forearms and bring them up above his head. “No. I want to do things for you.”

You press your lips to his gingerly, then start to kiss down, tracking his throat and moving further downwards, to his chest, stopping where his heart thumps against the petals of your lips.

“Beats so hard for me,” you comment lightly. “Do I make your heart race, love?”

“You do, Candy,” his reply is strained, as if it hurt to speak at that moment.

“But I—” You let your nails tickle the flat of his waist, the elastic band around his hips— “I also make your dick hard, don't I?”

He moans eloquently, then chuckles at your teasing. “You so do,” he admits, embarrassed but also excited, and so so thankful for having found you.

You grab the waistband of his underwear with your teeth, letting it slap against his skin with a dry snap. “Grab a pen from your bedside, will you?”

You look up just in time to catch his eyes flickering open, his expression coming to life slowly. “What?” he asks, confused.

“A pen, from your drawer,” you repeat.

“Oh.” He had been too unfocused and he hadn’t realised you were talking to him, as if the words were just sound with no meaning; however, now he’s paid attention, so he stretches to the side, exposing the slender twist of his waist to your reverent mouth. You kiss him there, his body contracting as your lips attack his ticklish spot.

“You’re a menace,” he complains, giving you the side eye, but also offering you a boyish, loving smirk.

“And yet, you love me.”

“You’re lucky,” he says, right before you nip at his skin in reprimand. “Okay, I am the lucky one,” he concedes, returning to you with a pen in his hand. “You want this one?” he asks.

You nod and stretch for it, then peck the mole beside his navel and make your way down.

His underwear by now is bitterly persona non grata, still you make yourself okay with it and simply move the elastic down, exposing his hipbone more fully.

“What you gonna do?” he muses, propping himself up and staring at you bent over his pelvis. You look at him and prepare the pen, staring in his eyes as you suck at your bottom lip, torturing it a little as you think.

“Are you gonna mark me? Sign me up?” he asks, a mocking grin on his face.

You move the pen away and loll your tongue out, drawing a thick stripe following the shape of him in his boxers.

He immediately drops his cocky act and arches up, sensitive, holding on barely.

“You think you’re so smart, huh?” you scold him provokingly. “Remember where this is all coming from,” you remind him threateningly.

He gasps as your mouth sucks his tip through the fabric, your nails tracing the indentations of his quads.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You’ve got me.”

You nod to yourself. “I do,” you say, patronising just in the slightest. And because you can you rise, remove yourself from the way, and pull at his hipbone, trying to flip him around.

He’s alarmed, but he follows your lead. You straddle the back of his thighs, bend down, and move his underwear down, the elastic stuck under the fold of his ass, further emphasising it. It looks plump and delicious, and for a moment you’re caught admiring him.

He’s twisting his neck to try and see what you’re doing, filled with wonder at the way your hair tumbles over, and he’s mesmerised by the shine of it, the softness of the tips, like a brush, whispering at his skin.

You pick the right spot, then settle down, folded over his glute. His skin is hot against your touch and when you finally bring the pen to his flesh, you hope it won’t fail, despite the perspiration and the soft surface.

Shamelessly, you draw the words like an inscription on a stone.

Poetic, and dirty. Just the way you like it. However, you don’t give him the benefit of knowledge.

You lean back, watch your little handywork with a surging of pride and love and confidence. You smack it, just because you can, not hard, not soft either, just sweet enough that it doesn’t feel like a violation doing it without asking his permission first.

His muscles squeeze, and his breath catches.

Because I can, your brain keeps telling you, over and over, like a mantra. You’re allowed to. He’s yours and you’re the only one allowed to.

“You’re getting confident with this,” he comments, and suddenly your eyes are meeting.

He looks like something you would paint. Something you would dream of, and then wake up and sketch down in the middle of the night, caught by some sort of frenzy, some urgency mixed with an impending fear of forgetting, of losing it. Losing him.

“I’m gonna draw you.”

He doesn’t connect the words for a bunch of seconds. Not until you’re standing up and running out of the room and he asks himself, why, why the fuck is she leaving?

“Candy?” he calls, unsure.

He tries to see what in the world you’ve written on his ass, but you’re making your way back in the room, tablet in hand, and your steps are bouncy and your tits follow the movement so his attention is divided.

“What— Where—?” He’s confused.

And then you’re perched on the armchair at the corner of the room, and the light from your tablet reflects on your face, and you look spirited, caught by some urgency he can’t quite find a name for.

“Candy, for the love of—”

“Just a bunch of minutes. A quick sketch, no more.”

He’s been patient. He’s been understanding. He’s let you tease him, and he’s let you touch him, lick him, suck him. He still has your taste all over his face and chin and he still feels the phantom touch of your breasts against his crotch and all he wants is to feel you on him, around him, against him.

“Please,” he whines.

“Just a minute.”

He swells. Frowns. Thrusts his hips against the mattress.

“Almost—” you say, drawing a couple more lines.

You’re in his arms next. “Put that down, Candy.” His face is right above yours and he’s carrying you bridal style. “Put it down,” he repeats.

You're very still. He's looking at your quick sketch, at the way it was all a rough frame and some basic lines. “You're gonna post that? Share it as some fanart instead of a live portrait?” He throws you on the bed and you clutch your tablet harder, trying to save it from any damage. He's on top of you next, grabbing the device and moving it to his drawer before he returns upon you, blocking your wrists above your head.

“Are you maybe going to draw it faceless, so you can sell it as a picture, to decorate somebody's house?” He bends to your ear and nips at the side of your neck. “Let my ass hang naked on someone else's wall?”

You feel overwhelmed and surprised by his counterattack, not really knowing how to react.

He drags his body against yours, stealing a whimper from your lips. “I think you enjoyed topping a little too much tonight.” He flips you onto your front next, and you find yourself only mildly embarrassed that he's made only one tenth of the effort it had taken you to flip him.

He slaps your ass, and it is nowhere as playful or light as the spank you'd given him. It is his turn to grab the pen.

“Let's see if you can walk the talk, Candy. If you like the taste of your own medicine,” he muses, and he bites your ass cheek, bending over to start writing, but accidentally finding himself unable to resist the urge to sink his teeth in your plush flesh.

“Since I'm not a selfish asshole, I'm gonna tell you what I'm writing. Here we go, 'This ass likes spankings from Jeon Jeongguk'. What do you say? Is it true?”

You're panting, wiggling in his hold, trying anything to see the possessed look on his face. “It's true,” you admit, breathless.

He smirks and lands one more hit on your ass. “Damn right it is,” he says confidently.

He tugs your underwear off harshly, almost angry.

Soon he's naked, and so are you, and he's slipping inside you while you're still on your front, your hips arched all the way up, cupped by his hands. “Let's make this fuck more fun than your drawing, huh?”

And when he starts, goodness, you want him to never, ever stop.

He's ruthless, and he only asks if you're alright once, after three strokes. After that, all's fair, and he's ramming inside you in a way that makes you gasp and arch further, trying to get him even deeper, to an even better angle.

You can't really look at him, since you'd risk a kink in your neck, but he doesn't care. He only cares about his handwriting on your ass, and his name on it. He only cares about the way you're gasping his name, and sometimes, when he slams in at the right moment, the impact causes too much of your breath to come out, so the whispered begging gets punctuated by moaned-out, hiccuped syllables.

He smacks your ass a few more times, his hand tingling, but the spanks seem to make you happy, so he doesn't stop, and he doesn't complain either.

“You're jealous of me, Candy,” he manages to speak, slowing down just enough so he has more of your attention. “Do you have any idea how jealous I am of you? How hard it is to feel like you want to own me half as much as I want to be yours?” He's on his knees behind you, and his thrusts grow more patient, more luscious. Richer and fuller. “Sometimes I'm scared you'll leave me, and someone else will get to have all the wonderful sex I get to have with you. Someone else will get to see your face first thing in the morning, and become a character in your cartoons, and talk about you with their granny, and bring you home for New Year's.” His face collapses close to your shoulder. “What will I do with myself, then?”

You turn your face and you finally get to see him. “Flip me around,” you order him, but your voice is fond. “I want to look you in the eyes while you fuck me like no one else has ever.”

His hair is fuzzy with his perspiration, and his face glistens with a light sheen of sweat. “Sure?” he asks, in confirmation.

“I'm sure,” you comfort him.

He's only happy once you're below him, and he's on top of you, inside you.

You clench around him, and he frowns deeply, trying to control himself. Still, he gives a sharp jab with his hips, and it steals your breath.

“Like that,” you praise him. “I want you to fuck me like that. Like no one else can.”

His eyes stay wide open, stubbornly nailed to yours as he starts moving. It's hard and slow, and it makes you see stars.

“Do you still feel like drawing?” he provokes you, “Or am I fucking you good enough?”

You hiss and bite his arm, both to keep him humble, but also, again, because you can — and nobody else does.

“Maybe I could get on top of you so you can watch my tits bounce, and maybe that will make you want to draw,” you bite back, and next thing you know you're both sat up, you're on his lap and he's bouncing you on his dick.

“Definitely feeling inspired right now,” he concedes. “Maybe I should stop and paint them.”

You push him down and he's finally with his back to the mattress, you on top. “Or maybe you could shut your mouth and get busy so I can cum.”

The slap lands almost immediately on your ass. “Dirty mouth. And a fucking divine cunt,” he speaks through gritted teeth.

He lets you lead for about thirty seconds, during which he stays occupied with your boobs, grabbing them, slapping them, pinching your nipples, and then he grabs your hips and stills them.

“Touch yourself,” he orders your roughly before he starts fucking up from below you.

It escalates quickly from there, and in less than a minute you're gone, collapsing forward, against him, and he's so thankful because he's coming too and your kegels are squeezing him just right, and he only manages to say “fucking yours” before he abandons all his inhibitions and loses himself inside you.

You come back to reality only, and you find yourself tucked in his embrace, his body above yours. You don’t know when he flipped the two of you over, but you like his weight on top of you.

“Hey,” you murmur, combing his hair away from his face.

His expression is lazy and satisfied.

Well done, you tell yourself, almost giving a pat to your own shoulder. He looks fantastically fucked, deliciously edible and perfectly yours.

“Hey you,” he replies, with the most heavenly, blissful grin on his face. No, too tired to be a grin, more like a glowy smile. It’s not fully on, it looks like those battery-operated lights when they’re almost out of energy, a bit faded, or maybe pale. Faint, feeble, dim. Soft. Muted. If his bunny smiles were jewel tones, this was the most delicate pastel pink. A powder baby blue, almost robin egg blue.

You want to wrap yourself in the hazy glow radiating from him, gentle as a sunny dawn in late May.

“So glad you got those Calvin’s,” you joke, and there it is, bunny grin, ten million watts. Apparently that makes his battery die because his head collapses to your neck and he doesn’t seem willing or ready to lift himself back up.

“So glad I made you jealous. But also sorry,” he says, truly apologetic. “I’m happy we did this. I’m happy I saw you like this.”

His lips tickle the side of your neck, and you squirm a little, but you try not to move too much. You want to be comfortable for him to rest on. You want him to stay like that on top of you forever. “I’m still maddish. But I think I can deal with it.”

“There’s more pictures coming,” he says tentatively, and he makes the effort to pick up his head to give you a helpless look, trying to protect himself already by giving you the sweetest pair of puppy eyes he’s ever used on anyone.

“Oh, I’m totally getting your ass branded,” you reply, saccharine. “I was thinking I could make those ribbons, like the ones the police use, except I put my name on it and I wrap it all around your chest, so they can’t drool all over your abs.”

He laughs, and the sound is boyish and playful, and lovely. You fall in love a tiny bit more.

“Can I see the pictures in advance?”

He hums as he thinks about it for three seconds, except he already knows how he wants to play it. “Mh…” he says some more, keeping you on your toes. “No.” He looks up, testing you. “But let’s say I hope you get that cockring ready.”

You pull your head back, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re not naked in your Calvin’s, right?”

He grins, gives you a devilish wink. “Maybe.”

You grab his cheeks and squeeze his face and he laughs so hard you can’t be possibly mad at him for even a nanosecond. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“And your tits will be it for me,” he flirts back.

You shake your head. “Brat.”

And he kisses you. Just that.

Before he hits the shower the following morning, Jeongguk inspects the damage you’ve done on him.

He’s quite happy with it. A very faint bruise on his neck. A red splotch on his abs, and another on his hip, but nothing that won’t fade within one or two days. He knows you know the drill by now.

He turns around to inspect his back, and he’s okay with it, nothing that will get him in trouble in case he needs to be shirtless or generically undressed around staff members. He drops his underwear and it’s only once he’s making his way to the shower that he notices something strange on his asscheek.

Oh, fuck. Suddenly reminded of your little handiwork with the pen the night before, he bends to the side, trying to get a better view at his ass.

He finds himself wobbling side to side, like a silly puppy chasing his tail, and that is exactly the way you find him when you enter the bathroom.

A laugh bubbles out of you and you smack his butt playfully. “Do you need help with that?” you ask, cheery.

“No,” he bites back, but he has the most innocent, pouty look on his face, and he is having fun a little. “Maybe,” he concedes, his voice young.

You wrap your arms around him and rise to your toes, propping your chin on his shoulder as you hug him from behind. “I wrote, ‘Candy’s babyboy’.”

His ears go red, just the tiniest bit. “Really?” His expression is so sweet.

“Really,” you confirm, confident, serious, and loving.

“You’re not making fun of me,” he asks, vulnerably.

“I promise I’m really, really not, Guk.” You kiss his shoulder. “You’re my babyboy. And my sexy man. And just mine, generally speaking.”

He nods, a happy, fulfilled look on his face. “Right.” He’s once more confident. Entirely adult.

“Love you,” you reassure him again, and then you kiss his shoulder, again.

He grins. There he is, your boy. “Love you too.”

Hi it's Dita, the writer, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment to keep this poor gremlin fanfic writer motivated. Bye and I LOVE YOU!!!

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x candy #jungkook x yn #jungkook au #bts x reader #52 hertz #bangtansorciere #btswritersclub

2K notes · View notes

feyhunter78 · 3 months

Note

Hiiii. I just read the new chapter of lab partners and it was 10/10 as always 🥰 Also I got another idea! What a about a pool party?👀 Now that Miggy is more popular he is invited to a pool party and he sees Y/N on a cute swimsuit and he goes crazy, but tries to keep it together to not look like a creep in front of her 😂 Especially when things are more tense after they almost kissed 👀👀👀👀

Thank you love!!!! I definitely wanted to lean into the tension left over from their almost kiss👀 I'm also using this one to set up the post I'll put out on V-Day!!!!

Pool Party

Artist cred: Supayell on Instagram!

He hates his brother, not really, but he does want to kill him. It was Gabriel’s idea to invite everyone over, to rent one of their apartment’s pools and throw a party. So now here Miguel is, forced to watch as you gallivant around in a dark blue bikini, with adorable little white hearts all over it, while he’s trying to keep himself from revealing his difficult situation.

Gabriel pushes the cabana’s curtains back even further than they were before and flops into the pool chair next to him, handing him some mixed drink in a red solo cup. “Enjoying the view?” Gabriel asks, lowering his sunglasses and letting out a wolf whistle in you and Mina’s direction. “Lookin’ good baby.”

Mina rolls her eyes but smiles and blows him a kiss, before linking arms with you and dragging you off towards a few of your other friends.

You’re so happy, smiling and giggling, drink in hand, swaying your head slightly in time with the music. He knows you, knows you love to dance, but there’s too many people here that you don’t know, so you stick with Mina, and stay away from the cleared out space in front of the speakers.

“It’s a nice party.” Miguel says, sipping on his drink. The taste of coconut rum coats his tongue, the pineapple juice mixed in, dulling the sting of the alcohol. He can barely feel it, a sense of dread making his mouth go numb when he sees you making your way over, a bottle of sunscreen in your hand and a drink in the other.

You smile at him, then give him a confused look when Gabriel squeezes his shoulder and bounds off towards a now unoccupied Mina.

“He’s probably going to try to convince her to go back to the apartment with him.” Miguel jokes, swallowing hard as he realizes just how pretty you look.

Your hair shines in the sun, your skin practically glowing, and your breasts—fuck he’s got to keep it together, he needs to look literally anywhere else—his eyes land on your lips, curled up in a smile, your lips glossy with chapstick, soft and supple looking. Not better, not better at all, because now he’s thinking about kissing you.

He shifts in his seat, praying no one notices the awkward way he’s sitting. Thankfully, the side curtains of the cabana are still down, so he just has to worry about anyone walking in…and you.

“He can try, but I know Mina’s been waiting all week for this party, there’s no way she’ll leave.” You laugh, shaking the sunscreen that’s in your hand, before downing your drink and setting it on the ground next to you.

“Yeah…are you enjoying the party?” Miguel asks, taking a big swig of his drink. Liquid courage, right?

“I mean, the drinks are good, music’s good, snacks are great, and I got to wear my new swimsuit, so yeah, I’d say I’m enjoying myself.” You gesture to your bathing suit as if it isn’t the very thing Miguel is trying not to look at.

“I like the color.” He says, taking another swig of his drink.

You beam up at him and toy with the strings holding the bottoms together. “Thank you, I was a little worried it would be too dark, but I actually really like it.”

His inebriated mind plies him with an image of you undoing those strings and letting him feast, suffocating him with your soft thighs, biting down on your fist to keep the others from hearing your moans.

He nearly groans aloud at the thought, hiding his face in his drink.

“Can I try that?” You ask, shifting to tuck your legs under you, your full attention on him.

“W-What?” He stutters, trying to banish the lewd image from his mind and focus on your words.

“Your drink, you’ve basically been chugging it, it’s gotta be good.” You elaborate, giving him a playful smile.

“Oh, oh, yeah, yeah, of course.” He hands you the drink, and you bring it to your mouth then frown.

“It’s empty.” You pout at him, leaning forward to set it on the small wooden table beside him, the stretch of your body, your bare skin brushing against his, makes his head swim.

“Sorry?” He manages to get out, his hand shooting to grip the side of the pool chair for stability.

“No worries, I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

He bets you can. Bets he’d fit perfectly, lying below you as you ease yourself down onto his coc—

Suddenly, you turn your back to him and pull your hair up off your neck. “Do you mind putting sunscreen on my back? I want to get back in the sun, but I don’t want to burn.”

He’s going to die, right here, right now.

“Yeah, sure I—I can do that.” He takes the sunscreen from you, apologizing when you hiss from the change in temperature.

You both sit quietly as he rubs the sunscreen in, making sure there’s no white cast, his large hands smoothing over your back, and shoulders, taking care to get every inch while trying to remain as respectful as possible.

“I have to—do you mind—?” He lifts the thick strips of fabric that keep your bathing suit together ever so slightly, waiting for you to nod, or pull away.

“No, no, you’re good, I’ll just…” You hold your top to your body with one hand just in case as Miguel rubs the lotion in, much quicker than before.

“Okay, I think you’re all good.” He says, snapping the cap back on the bottle.

You don’t turn around, staring at the canvas of the cabana. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

He nods, before realizing you obviously can’t see him. “Yeah, of course, anything.”

You turn now, but you won’t meet his eyes, too focused on fidgeting with your nails. They’re different shades of pink, a pleasant gradient ending in white on your thumbs. “My sorority’s semiformal, Valentine’s Day dance thing is coming up, would you maybe want to go with me?”

He’s stunned, frozen, astounded, flabbergasted, astonished, a dozen other words to say he’s shocked. Shocked that you’re asking him. That you want him to come with you to this event, honestly, he’s still shocked you want to be seen in public with him.

Do you feel the same way he does? He’s been hoping, praying, your almost kiss lingering, haunting him, plaguing his dreams, his every waking moment.

He says yes at the same time you say, “as friends,” and his world shatters.

“I don’t want to make you feel weird or anything, no pressure, just two friends have a good time at a Valentine’s themed dance.” You give him a smile, but he knows you, knows it’s fake, and he feels a twinge of hope in his chest once more.

“It’s not weird.” He reassures you, wishing he had another drink to drown his maybe sorrows maybe half-baked hope in.

You wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Okay yay! I’ll figure out our outfits and all the details, and I’ll get them to you.”

You bound off in the direction of your friends, leaving Miguel’s skin tingling, his heart hurting, and his stomach twisted into knots.

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #the picture very much does not fit the vibe of this fic but I couldn't find anything else okayyyy #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #nerd miguel #nerd!miguel #nerd!miguel o'hara #college!miguel #college!reader #college au #sorority!reader #mail time

219 notes · View notes

vanderilnde · 3 months

Text

HEAR ME OUT

while i believe simon would never cheat on the love of his life, i do also believe that living in close quarters with someone; sustaining the plight of near-death experiences together; and the intrinsic bond that comes with suturing up a teammate that took a bloody bullet for you, may prompt some second thoughts in simon’s mind, and may inspire a mean little devil on his shoulder. let me elaborate:

"You're a fuckin' muppet," he grunts.

The words come from the hull of Simon's throat—brutish in how he smoulders you with his stare—and is succeeded by a plume of smoke thereafter. "A real fuckin' muppet."

"So are you," you counter.

The hind of his spine straightens. It's in a stint of disbelief, because you’re a sergeant back-talking your lieutenant. Simon’s eyes follow the streamline of your gaze, and he freezes. He sees what you're focused on: his ring.

Or, rather, his lack thereof.

In place of his wedding stack, you notice, a loop of pale skin winks at you instead. It stands out from the rest of Simon's skin—slightly tanned, welted, with distending divots and a gossamer of blisters. It's ugly, and even uglier in the stark absence of his thin, gilt band.

Simon's not wearing his wedding ring.

His consciousness is impaired and belatedly catches up to him. And when it does, Simon burns his tongue soot-stained as he sharply inhales and invites a layer of ash to slip past his throat. He coughs, eyebrows pursed in the silvery glow of moonlight.

"This ain't about me."

Ash falls off his cigarette as Simon crudely taps it against his forefinger. He secures the cigarette with the threshold of his lips and bitterly continues, "You wanted to take a bullet meant for me, no? Earned yourself a psych eval."

"Price'll let me on the field even if I fail," you sneer.

"Your responsibility's to follow orders, not play hero–"

A scoff bubbles from your throat and collapses Simon's sentence. "You're in no place to be talking about responsibilities, L.T.–"

"Quiet," he snaps, like a dog on a leash that's too long and had its favourite toy pried from its paws. Simon's a rottweiler, baring his fangs and barking at you through the iron cage of his gritted teeth.

His chest rises and falls. Ribbons of scratch marks from your nails decorate his chest, down to his navel.

You scoff. “You're a fucking liar.”

Simon clenches his fist. A cold breeze slips past you both, ebbing over your breathing gun injury. The injury that he'd dressed this afternoon. Like atonement; like he was licking your wounds with his tail tucked between his legs; like a fervent kiss.

Because Simon isn't just a liar to the woman he said his vows to in a church in Manchester; he's a liar to you, for swearing that this—what ever this is, this little parasite between you—isn't real.

Something like the humid mass of guilt sticks to your flesh as you remember the lady who always picks him up for R&R; who he has as his background on his phone; who holds the other half of his wedding band—which isn't on his finger—and which hasn't been on Simon's finger for a long time, even though his "I don't want to endanger her" excuse is getting stale.

Simon stares at you. In the middle of his tent, in the middle of the desert, in the blip of what seems like frozen time.

He's backed into a corner, beseeching with his eyes to not confront whatever somatic presence orbits around you. Bringing him and his wife apart, and bringing the two of you together. Not only on missions, but at the dead of midnight, too. In the dark corners of Simon's office. Wherever there's a blind spot at Hereford's base. In a fickle tent as you two scope out the enemy.

Quietly, under the howling breeze, he whispers, "I know."

Simon's wedding band sits on his cot back at Hereford.

Simon's wife sits in Manchester.

Simon's sin lays beside him. Naked, sweaty, swathed in cheap bedsheets.

You're pricked by the spindle of his tongue, bleeding a mosaic across your body. It's a bullet wound, and it's a pair of lips, and its passion. A palette of hickey's and kisses and bite marks.

Testaments of territory Simon had left on you the night before.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #simon riley #simon writing #writing

232 notes · View notes

tearskillstardust · 5 months

Text

what could be these genshin character's ideal type? modern au

wanderer, keqing, pantalone, lyney, cyno, raiden

[tw!!! physical features the characters might be attracted to are mentioned, please don't continue if it bothers you anyhow. everything is my opinion and i don't mean to offend anyone, anyhow.] also i randomly switch povs from their lover to you so there's that lol. credits for the headers go to the artist, they are not mine.

WANDERER

— wanderer likes people who can stand up for themselves and be assertive, even in the face of fear. a partial reason for this could be the fact that he suffered at the hands of many for not having stated his desires. he is a people pleaser and would like to learn this virtue from whomever he chooses as his partner. he also admires resilience and perseverance, people who work in the shadows or use underhanded means to achieve their ends aren't seen by him in the best light. he likes focused, ambitious and noble people who stand up for what is right, and who would stand up for him when others wrong him though he himself is fully capable of doing so.

he could be attracted to people who are just by nature. not righteous, somebody who always sticks to the right isn't the best either but somebody who knows of law and justice and knows what is the right thing to do. although he may very well want to be the dominant partner in the relationship, he would admire someone who challenges his belief without batting an eye, without knowing they just turned his belief system upside down. somebody intelligent and bright who can be the lamp to his dark, the light to his firefly. he wouldn't like a goody two shoes so someone who knows how to break rules but in a very, 'find-loopholes-in-the-law' kind of sense. someone who can handle his cynical and sarcastic nature and patiently waits for him to open up. he would

someone who dislikes attention but grabs it wherever they go nonetheless. someone who can make him feel loved and important. someone who would help him grow and heal. someone he can open up to without feeling ashamed or scared. who would embrace his dark as much as they admire his light and treat him gently.

although i'm quite sure he would only be interested in grabbing said person's attention in the start. he wouldn't approach them with an intent to change, just with the desire to be important to someone who is so admirable. but eventually, as he gets to know them more he would come to love them.

i don't want to make comments on physical beauty but all i can say is that he could like intense eyes and a serene and relaxed expression. whose face radiates peace and patience. he could be attracted to people whose face has a glow, you know when you look at someone and can't help but catch glances. not that they're angelina jolie or something but just that their face bears the radiance of someone intelligent and bright.

KEQING

— keqing is the bearer of responsibilities and expectations wherever she may go. undoubtedly, she likes it, it proves her worth. there are chances that she could have power struggles or ego problems in relationships, especially if it's someone who makes her insecure. she would be best with someone who is well respected and admired and famous but not in the same field as her. she would start seeing it as competition and end up hurting them, unintentionally. she could very well want to be the submissive partner (not in a sexual sense lmao) and take care of duties at home whereas the other partner takes care of worldly affairs. she could be the provider too, but she would find nurturing others in that sense a bit hectic because she's very attached to her career life.

someone patient and caring who would hug her when she comes back home, who can hold her hand and make her laugh when she is in a good mood and give her a shoulder to cry on when she's upset. she's a blunt person because she dislikes dishonesty in intimate relationships so someone who can handle that. she would also be irritated by a partner who expects to be placed before her career and family. who is as busy as she is but can still find time for her. she would like to make them run after her but once her affection is won, all her love floods in like a summer spring— all for her lover and one and only.

someone who aims long term. who is bold, outgoing and extroverted and can compliment her, who she can present loud and proud. someone who only has eyes for her and can wait for her; she would be embarrassed by pda so there's that, too.

PANTALONE lmao you guys.

— pantalone likes to be praised and admired for the stuff he does. of course, one won't go as far as to say someone who'd worship him, but someone who can romance him. he knows how to do it, much better than any romantic partner i'd say, but he likes seeing them put in the effort and try. as such, he wants someone who can make him a priority, or at least keep him in their top three. he needs them to be understanding of the nature of his work, how busy he can be and so someone who can adjust to that would be amazing! it'll definitely be worth it though because at the first chance he gets, he's going to make sure he gives you the whole world along with his heart at your disposal. he's very generous but it's a very give-and-take kind of thing— be passionate with him and he'll give you thrice of it. someone who is gullible, understanding, compassionate and kind but can be rough and tough when time demands it. not someone harsh though. like a camellia, someone who blooms even in winter snow.

although he'd like a submissive partner, he wouldn't want a dumb or unpopular one. as someone so famous as him, he would show you off everywhere and to everyone hence someone full of etiquette and elegance who can adjust to a very fancy life and who he would think compliments him, increases his charm.

very possessive guy, he needs his own freedom but is not willing to give you yours— it could get toxic very easily so someone who can draw a line and explain to him where he is going wrong is ideal. an ambivert who is capable and confident with others, and relaxed and smiling with him. he loves spoiling so someone who can handle that. someone with a lot of dignity or pride wouldn't sit too well with him. he loves intelligence or wittiness, especially when it's used to trick him because even though he is cunning enough to see right through it, he'll be infinitely amused by it. someone independent and down-to-earth who can show him his place when he's asking for it.

someone attractive, someone you can stare at for hours and not get bored.

LYNEY

a most extroverted and bold character, one would say. however, this boldness seems to disappear somehow when he is in front of someone who he actually is in love with. or at least that's the kind of love he desires. something that knocks the breath out of him— makes him tremble and stare in awe when they appear, a past life perhaps that connects their soul with a red string, binding them in a tango forever.

aside from this dreaminess that lyney bears about the idea of a lover, he would like someone who can make him feel comfortable, otherwise, he'll only play around and then leave. comfort is so important for him that it can make or break the bond. no matter how superficial he may seem, he wants to be able to confide in his partner entirely without them judging him or making snide remarks. he wants someone who can be lighthearted in love, but not unserious. he doesn't fall easily so he thinks long term and wants someone who can do that too. someone who is wise but doesn't preach; he desires a lover, not a teacher. very lawful people bore him since he likes breaking rules and finding loopholes so someone who can be like that.

i'm not so sure about this but he could very well take his sister's opinion into consideration when choosing a partner, so it'll be someone his sister likes too. he'll be a very fun lover and always make you laugh. one thing that could pose a problem is that he may not understand the importance of certain things or topics and take them lightly. so someone who can take the rein patiently in those matters will be admired by him. he would be very hurt if his partner said harsh words to him because he would hold their opinion in high regard, so someone who can control their anger.

he would want to be useful to them somehow so someone who'd tell him how to do so. very soft lmao but fun and lovely nonetheless. although it could take him time to find the one since he wants to keep everyone happy; someone who upsets lynette or freminet would be rejected with ease.

CYNO

i'm certain that even in a modern au, he would be in a job that requires strength or resilience of body and mind. as such, he would desire the company of someone who can take away the weight of general household work from his shoulders. it's not that he is running away from it, he would easily do it if his partner can't, but he wants to be with someone understanding enough to take the responsibility of stuff they can do from his shoulders. he really idealises the soldier returning home from war trope and would want someone nurturing and kind who would talk to him and take his pain away from him.

he's patient in romantic relations and would want someone who trusts him. he'd be very protective but in a very positive sense, he just wouldn't let harm come in your way and would support your endeavours in a very practical way. he would trust you a lot too and make sure that you're happy as long as you're with him. your peace and joy bring him euphoria. he isn't the obsessive or possessive type though, he'll trust your devotion and commitment. someone just and royal, who can deal with the law and align themselves with it. someone who can understand his duty and prepare themselves by hardening their heart. someone who can remind him of his duties when he gets carried away and who doesn't need to be babied. not that he won't do it but he doesn't want a parasite.

someone who'll keep their promises and maintain a joyful disposition. someone who'll gladly sacrifice comforts when his duty is in question and be prepared for hardships and struggles. someone who's still soft though, it'd really break his heart when he saw them sacrificing for his sake but that would be the one thing that makes tears come to his eyes, the one act that makes him want to pour his heart out for you.

RAIDEN

raiden is the archetypal villainous lover who sacrifices the world for their partner. it's not ideal, certainly not— so someone who would be flattered by such devotion. raiden loves with a lot of devotion and expects the same in return so someone who would provide her with the trust she demands. she's very generous too, and would gladly shower her lover with gifts and love and respect and expect only love in return. she wants to have someone whose presence gives her peace and calmness of mind, who can talk to her and talk practically and take all her worries away. she adores loyalty so that would be very important.

i think she would make for an excellent lover in the sense that she can be both emotional and practical, except that sometimes she gets too practical. someone who can appeal to her kinder side would be much adored. with her, there's this problem that her entire world starts revolving around you, so you have to make sure she doesn't get obsessed or carried away in love and stays practical and career-oriented too. she would love it so much when you express concern for her. she would rather be the money maker and caretaker and would want someone who can romance her and be passionate, though it's not particularly necessary either— she's quite good at romance herself though her definition of romance could be hard to understand.

someone who can respect her anger and see her side of the argument too, should the chance of one ever arise. she needs time to cool down so someone who understands that and gives her space and freedom is ideal. she doesn't like clingy people and would encourage you to step out in the world too.

selfishness does not sit well with her. a bit random but i see her as someone who focuses on her partner more than the children and they could be a bit neglected for that reason so you have to be the responsible one in that aspect.

218 notes · View notes

lucysarah-c · 5 months

Note

I would like you very much to talk about the girlfriend effect on Levi's fashion

The man has zero sense on it it's actually hurt

The way I squealed when I read this ask. I was like that TikTok sound of “OH MY GOODNESSI LOVE THIS QUESTION! I THINK..!”

*Deep sigh* Anon, you're absolutely right; it's time we face the truth about Levi's sense of style – it's hideous. Have you witnessed those panels of him in the Uprising arc with a T-shirt on top of a long-sleeve shirt? I mean, seriously, it's like, "You're lucky I adore you, Levi…"

Now, let's establish some basics. We can't delve into the "girlfriend effect" without first acknowledging Levi's life as a man. I hate to break it to many of us, but Levi is, indeed, a man – raised by Kenny, no less. Levi values cleanliness and practicality. To sum up Levi's approach to broad topics: cheap, pragmatic, and straightforward. The only exceptions to this rule are tea and cleaning. Levi grew up in poverty, so he won't waste a single penny on face cream, even if you harass him. As an example, there's a "game" that was only available, I believe, in Japan, that had side stories, and Levi literally told Erwin he wasted too much money on "pointless" stuff like hair pomade…

Levi doesn't buy much furniture, treats for his body, clothes – anything, really. I'd even venture to say he might get some of his clothes from donations. He saves his money for tea… and tea sets.

And here's where the girlfriend comes into the picture. It starts subtly; she spends a night in his personal chambers and suggests bringing in new pillows, curtains, furniture, scented candles, and bathroom appliances for her stuff. Then the full transformation happens.

Levi, pale as ever, refuses to wear sunscreen like any man would. “I'm trying to look after you!" she would insist while running her hand through his face; he's not pleased. He hates the sticky feeling, but it's just the beginning. He pretends to dislike it, but he falls asleep so easily when his face is on her legs, and she's giving him a face massage with a full face glam, mask, and gua sha.

"You have to use it like this, against the hair movement, to create volume so your hair doesn't stick to your scalp," she says, applying molding wax to his hair to give it more volume. Skincare routine? Check. Lip balms? Check. Hairstyles? Check. Personal chambers now looking comfy and homey? Double-check.

And finally, the clothes. He's against it at first, always in uniform, so why bother? But she explains how proportions and colors can make him look taller, and he's tempted to tell her he doesn't care. However, her puppy eyes beg him to wear what she chose.

The result? Levi, who once dressed like a pre-teen from the 2000s, transforms into a model. The LOOKS? He goes out with the vets for a few beers on a day off, and MPs are turning around; even Erwin is surprised. He's supposed to be the high maintenance of the group, not Levi! This transformation becomes the main giveaway that Levi is dating. Glowing skin, glass-like complexion, perfectly cut and smooth hair with ideal volume.

The cherry on top? Suddenly, he's taking days off, going out more, and knows a lot about which restaurants are "not that bad," all while dressing like a Vogue cover.

The only disadvantage? Now he has his pockets full of lip glosses, napkins, hand cream, etc. Women's clothes don't have pockets. How is he supposed to explain to the MPs when they ask for a pen, and he pulls out a pink, glittery lip gloss from his pocket? Not everything is an upside.

I ADORED this question! I hope the answer is somehow what you had in mind! Thank you so so much for sending this.

I hope you and your loved ones are doing great today and stay safe!

Lots of love!

Tags!: @nmlkys @jimoonbeau @fictiondrunk @notgoodforlife @nube55 @justkon @i-literally-cant-with-this @darkstarlight82 @thoreeo @quillinhand @humanitys-strongest-bamf Wanna join my tag list? Here!

260 notes · View notes

thegreenthepeacetheorange · 5 months

Text

Everlark (Catching Fire, Ch. 15-16)

(finnick and johanna are in the building. i repeat, finnick and johanna are in the building!)

katniss likes her men medium handsome. she likes to find the beauty in the ordinary things. so of course finnick is of no interest to her whereas peeta...

katniss mocking finnick to peeta is hilarious

"because you have a weakness for beautiful things and i don't" "having an eye for beauty isn't the same thing as a weakness... except possibly when it comes to you" i know peeta had katniss's insides turning to mush on the regular. again, them having another compliment-off. they love those.

katniss fixating on peeta's blue eyes. again. "those blue eyes" - they're nothing spectacular... they're just blue eyes that belong to him so they're those blue eyes.

hand holding is just their thing. constant handholding at every opportunity. their hands are permanently intertwined

"peeta and i.. are so mesmerising" "peeta and i appear... young and strong and beautiful"

katniss being JEALOUS when johanna strips down. like she's so annoyed she won't look at peeta and throws his hand away from her when johanna leaves. "she spends the whole ride... chatting to peeta about his paintings while the light of his still-glowing costume reflects off her bare breasts" - she's MAD mad.

their fight after the elevator is so teenage it makes my heart ache. like they're really just teenagers navigating so many human experiences for the first time amongst this chaos.

one of the main reasons she's still angry with him the next day is because of him teasing her (and lingering jealousy over johanna). her being like 'i don't want his comfort but i'm still gonna die to ensure he's alive but i don't owe him more than that' (paraphrasing) is so funny because what do you even mean, katniss? she's unhinged

peeta just having a big group of friends around all the time, like he did in district 12 - and still it's katniss he wants the most. aw. "it's amazing that he ever took any notice of me." you can't convince me that katniss doesn't absolutely adore that she's peeta's chosen one. like she feels so special that he fell in love with her/chooses to love her.

"so i'm stupid for thinking that they might be useful. because of something johanna mason said while she was oiling up her breasts for wrestling" - oh she is so jealous and mad. lmao

i don't think i hold anything against peeta for not saying/doing something to chaff in the moment he kisses katniss. like he's also just 17 and he was probably equally caught off guard. haymitch really should've been the one to protect her but he laughed. peeta saying he won't let chaff kiss her again feels like him teasing but also him realising that she really didn't like that and i know for sure he wouldn't let that happen again.

katniss being like oh these people are quite nice and friendly and quite damaged that i would want to protect them "but all of them must die if i'm to save peeta" - she's unhinged. and this goes back to my point that a lot of her motivations are driven for selfish reasons. she's saving peeta for herself, because it's what she needs to happen

katniss doesn't want to stick it to the gamemakers because they're terrible people (although i'm sure that plays a part), it's just so she can draw attention away from peeta and hopefully onto herself for the sake of his survival

#everlark #peeta x katniss #katniss x peeta #katniss and peeta #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #catching fire #tgtpto everlark read

158 notes · View notes

lethalchiralium · 1 year

Text

Lover | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: TAYLOR SWIFT 🫶 i’m more of a speak now girlie but FUCK MAN. LOVER GOT ME IN A CHOKEHOLD. (this is also an apology to @peachesofteal and @as-is-above-so-below to them being subjected to my antics and foreshadowing ☺️) did i mention this is the last part before i rip everything you know apart?

warnings: mentions of babies (of course), mentions of kids, child loss

summary: Christmas Eve is over. With enough paper cuts to last a lifetime, you just want Simon to know how much you love him with a song.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT

The dim light from the Christmas lights that lined your living room and Christmas tree lit up the room like warm firelight, you had finally finished wrapping the last present in blue and green spotted wrapping paper. It was getting late, Simon had already taken a bite out of the cookies Winnie was so excited to leave out for Santa, plus drank the entire glass of milk.

Your baby brother was asleep in the front room next to the stairs, the 141 settled and asleep in the guest room. Mellie had gone down with a belly full of formula and a face covered in kisses from her father, Winnie protested only for twenty minutes until your little brother convinced her that Santa wouldn’t come if she was awake. Simon kissed her face ten times before she finally got sick of him, stumbling over to Gaz for protection. Always the soft one, Gaz bundled her up in his arms with the blanket he had on him, holding her until she fell asleep on his chest. He had disappeared by 8pm to tuck her into bed, returning to sit on the couch to listen to one of your baby brother’s awful high school stories about setting a trash can on fire.

“Tommy, I’ll tell Mom.” You had remarked to your baby brother, he glared at you before sticking his tongue out and declaring that everyone was lame, and that he was going to bed. Soap and Gaz followed suit, saying that they were tired from playing all day and that they would see everyone in the morning. They went quietly into the guest room, Tommy complained from the front room that they were too loud. To which you closed the door between the living room and front room, grumbling about how dramatic he was.

Last to leave was Price. He sat with you and Simon as you forced your husband to help you wrap presents, Price was a little more helpful than Simon. Both him and you would wrap presents, you would wrap them in ribbons, then hand them to Simon so he could write down who it goes to. Price mumbled stories about having to wrap presents with his mum when he was younger, all for his cousins and his baby sister - who you learned died when she was fairly young. You couldn’t imagine how he could’ve felt when it happened, losing either Tommy or Dave would make you lose your mind; you couldn’t even think about how it effected his mum. He quickly glossed over it anyway, asking where the rest of the presents that he and the boys had brought went. Simon answered that they were in his office, under lock and key. He volunteered himself to go and get all of the already wrapped presents, leaving you two alone for a while until he brought them all down.

Price went to bed a little past midnight, you were starting to wrap the 141 presents by the time he did - he almost protested, saying he could still help but you were very stern on him going to bed. Your husband didn’t whisper a word of complaint as he hunched over, meticulously writing names and figuring out bows since his one chance to wrap something had failed miserably. It was fine though, you two sat in comfortable silence until he placed one of the last gifts under the Christmas tree. That was when he looked at the tree, his unmasked face illuminated in a warm glow.

There were moments where you were honestly stunned by his beauty. By all means, he was not the most beautiful man on Earth, but he was just perfect to you. The crooked nose from one too many breaks, the faded white lines across his face, the way his brown eyes gazed in childish wonder at the tree you had decorated with your baby brother. His hair was a little longer than usual, his normally shaved face was covered in stubble that your daughter liked to pull. You pressed your lips together, still memorizing his pink lips and the way one eyebrow was more arched than the other when he turned to look at you.

“Somethin’ the matter?”

You gazed back to the present in between your hands, a second-hand Nintendo DS with a couple cartridges of Nintendogs sat in the wrapped box. Soap was written in big letters - messy and all different sized, but that was Simon. He spent the most time on writing his children’s and his brother-in-law’s names, his brothers in arms wouldn’t mind. You thumbed over the little bow on it, making sure it was secure before placing it on the side of the large pile of presents. “Let’s keep the lights up for a while.”

Simon huffed through his nose. “Whatever you want, love.” He began to stretch his arms above his head, you could hear something pop and you quietly laughed. He eyed you before he reached a hand out for yours, you let him. He tugged you a little, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips, a smile appeared on your face as he said, “Good work, Mama.” His hand settled on your cheek, eyes full of sleepiness yet the myriad of love in them made your heart warm even more.

“Can I share something with you?” You asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re not pregnant again, right?”

You rolled your eyes, moving away from him to stand. You held your hand out for him, he took it as he moved to his feet. You shuffled away to the mantle of the fireplace, the fire in it slowly dying away to ash as the night became tiring. Your phone in your hand, you snatched the pair of wired earbuds you were using earlier while cleaning and moved back to your husband. You stood in front of him, pressing an earbud into his ear and then the other into yours. His eyebrows furrowed, his hands still at his side. You ran through your music library, picking out the song that seemed to remind you of him. Lover.

The guitar and drums began to softly play, you slipped your phone into his pocket.

Your arms hooked around his neck as his hands settled on the top of your hips, your fingers brushed through the wisps of curls at the base of his skull.

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January.

And this is our place, we make the rules.

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear,

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

“What are we listening to?”

“Taylor Swift.” You smiled up at him. His nose scrunched.

“I don’t like Taylor Swift.”

You gently patted his chest with one hand and keeping it over his heart. “You just need to listen to her words then, ‘cause she says it better than I can.”

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

You gently rubbed his chest, the hand still behind his neck came down to his chest too - you could feel him breathe underneath your paper cut fingertips.

And ah, take me out, and take me home.

You're my, my, my, my,

Lover.

If there was a way you could’ve captured the moment his eyes softened, you would’ve. His brown eyes were always warm just for you, just for your girls, but it was as if they were made of honey in this moment - glittering in the firelight. His fingers dug just a little into your skin, barely noticeable.

We could let our friends crash in the living room,

This is our place, we make the call.

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you,

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all.

“You’re gonna be the death of me with that look, sweetheart.”

You giggled just a little. “It’s the only look I got.”

One hand curled around to your back, pulling you closer to him and forced your arms to go back around his neck. “You want all my summers, then? Is that what you’re saying?”

You shook your head just a little, letting your hips sway to the melody - moving your feet back and forth a little. And to your surprise, he followed suit. Using the hand in the curve of your spine, he kept you close to him and his old t-shirt and gingerbread man pajama pants Winnie insisted he wear. He looked beautiful in them anyway, though he’d stiffly disagree. “I do. I want every single season with you, my Simon whatever-your-middle-name-is Riley.”

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand,

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover.

Your eyes couldn’t leave your husband’s if you even tried, it was easy to watch just how much love he had for you would spill through his gaze. The way his eyes lit up at that lyric, and how he watched your lips as you whispered the next lyrics to him,

“My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue,

All's well that ends well to end up with you.

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover.

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me,

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover.”

“Oliver.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, the song still singing in your ear. “What?”

“My middle name.”

Your husband wasn’t always ready to share details with you, the man was a half-chiseled sculpture when it came to the knowledge you knew about him. You were slowly chipping away his strong defence, and this was a huge step.

“Simon Oliver Riley.” The extra word in the middle of the name you loved so much meant more than he knew, you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Placing your head on his chest, tuning back into Taylor Swift’s soothing voice, hands moving to hold onto his back. “My Simon.”

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home,

You're my, my, my, my,

Oh, you're my, my, my, my,

Darling, you're my, my, my, my,

Lover.

taglist (ignore that tagging hates me): @sigynxlokiwifelover @lumpypoll @multitargaryen @chloeforde @blueoorchid @vir-tual @lolis-pikt @theverycelestialgemini @simpingforleoandnico @prodyng @royalty-purple @projectdreamwalker @tiredweeb7

641 notes · View notes

gingiesworld · 4 months

Text

Dancing In The Snow

Jane Banner x GN! Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad (if you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

18+ MINORS DNI

Y/N had never truly experienced a magical snowfall before, especially since they had grew up in the UK where the snow doesn’t really stick, and if it does, the magic of the snow is short lived and turns into ice overnight. So Jane had decided since the two of them had a vacation from work, she would take them to her father’s cabin for a few days. The snow had already fallen beforehand so the area was covered in a blanket of white.

“It’s beautiful here.” They told her as she pulled up outside of the cabin.

“My father used to bring my mom and I here every winter when I was younger.” She told them as she watched their expression. “We spent every Christmas here.”

“That sounds amazing.” They smiled at her as she nodded.

“It was amazing.” She told them. “And it’s something I want to share with you.” She told them as the two got out of the car, Y/N grabbed both of their bags before Jane could object, allowing her to lead the way up the cold icy steps.

Once they were inside, Y/N admired the decor, the varnished walls with some pictures hanging on the walls. A lot from Jane’s childhood, whether it be from hunting or fishing with her father, or gardening or building snowmen with her mother. Y/N could really see how happy a young Jane was whenever she came here throughout the years.

“We will have to share a queen since I feel weird sleeping in the master.” She told them as they just smiled at her.

“That’s perfect.” They told her, not arguing with her point as there was a bigger bed in the master bedroom.

The two had soon settled in, with Jane in the kitchen, brewing up some hot cocoa as Y/N lit the fire, giving the cabin a warm glow.

“Here.” She spoke softly as she handed them the mug topped off with cream and chocolate shavings. “It’s hot cocoa, just how my mom used to make it.”

“Thank you.” They smiled at her, taking a sip of the hot beverage and making her laugh at the cream mustache it had left behind. “What?”

“As much as you look good with facial hair, I prefer to see your face clearly.” She told them as she wiped it away with her thumb before sucking it clean.

“Thank you Jane.” They whispered as they both soon sat down together in front of the fire, Jane sat between their legs and her back against their front as their arms were wrapped around her. “For sharing this part of your life with me, I truly appreciate it.”

“I want to keep you in my life Y/N.” She told them as she looked up in their eyes. “I can’t explain my feelings thoroughly yet because I am still understanding them myself, but I know that I don’t want to lose you, not ever.”

“I think I understand what you mean.” They replied as they looked into the fire. “I still get confused about how I feel but I know one thing for sure.” They looked back in her eyes. “The love I feel for you burns brighter than any flame we have ever seen.” Jane only turned around to straddle them as she kissed their lips passionately.

“I know I do feel the same.” She whispered as they let out a breathy chuckle, their eyes following hers towards the window. “It’s snowing.” They watched as she moved from their lap to get her boots and coat on. “Come on.” She was out of the door before Y/N had even moved from their spot. Quickly following her outside, a smile on their face as they watched her dancing without a care in the world. “Dance with me?” She asked as they joined her. Smiling as they wrapped their arms around her and spinning her around, admiring the snowflakes as they got caught on her lashes, seeing the brightest smile on her face as they danced, laughing as they dipped her before losing their footing as the two of them fell against the soft snow beneath them.

“Snow angels?” She laughed as they started to make their own, soon joining in with their antics and making her own before the two got up and started to have a snowball fight. Spending the night laughing and smiling as they played like children in the snow. Enjoying the simplicity of the moment before they had to return to the real world.

#jane banner x gn! reader #jane banner x reader #jane banner #wind river #jane banner imagine #elizabeth olsen x reader #lizzie olsen x you #lizzie olsen x reader

124 notes · View notes

katstarry · 3 months

Text

anything

eddie munson x reader

masterlist ☆

summary: moments shared with eddie throughout your friendship, up until his death.

warnings: ANGST! 😱 mentions of death.

guys i haven’t written in a while and this song has been on repeat this week so this is just something i had an idea of so i’m sorry if it sucks!!! hope u enjoy :)

feedback + reblogs are appreciated! ☆

inspired by anything by adrianne lenker!

it was a summer day and you had just graduated high school.

the day was sunny and hot—a perfect day for going to the local pool.

eddie and you agreed to meet there, it was his idea, wanting to spend some time with you after the ceremony before you had to celebrate with your family.

this would be his second time not graduating.

“eddie don’t beat yourself up over this, i’m sure that next year you’ll be walking that stage. and i’ll be there cheering you on.”

as you both make your way to the pool entrance, he looks over with you with an eyebrow raised.

“don’t give me that look! i mean it.” you give him a playful shove.

“mrs. o’donnell is always on my ass, i doubt that’ll change next year,” he sighed, “plus, it’ll be less fun without you there.”

he wraps an arm over your shoulders as you both make your way to a pair of empty chairs, settling your belongings down onto them.

you had brought some sliced fruit, drinks, sunscreen, and of course a towel.

“y’know i’m not going anywhere anytime soon, we can still see each other as much as we want this summer.” you finish putting down your things and sit on the edge of the chair, applying on sunscreen.

you look over at eddie who’s on his own chair beside your own, “yeah, but what if you change your mind about staying in hawkins? you should be doing bigger things than staying in this dump.”

he looks away from you and leans his head back onto the chair, playing with a strand of hair.

meanwhile, you open the container you had brought with the sliced fruit, eat a piece of apple, and pass the container to eddie. the thought of leaving hawkins was constant, who wouldn’t want to leave after seeing the things that you’ve seen? yet you couldn’t bring yourself to leave, one of the reasons being right beside you.

“i’ll just study here at the community college, see where that takes me. then, who knows what’ll happen?”

leaning back onto your own chair, you look over at eddie. his hair has begun to stick onto his skin from the heat, his loose shirt slightly slipping from his shoulder, the sunlight shining just right, enough for him to look as if he’s glowing.

he turns to look at you, smiling, “you’ll be out in some big city, doing whatever the hell you want! maybe we could even be roommates, like we’ve talked about.”

he grabs a piece of mango and takes a bite, excess juice dripping.

you smile, “yeah that’d be really nice. but for right now, i’m happy where i’m at.”

that year during the end of summer and towards the end of fall, you had your first boyfriend.

the relationship was not super long, and it never felt like there was much progress. he’d take you out to dates, he’d do everything right.

yet there was no true connection. it’s something you realize after the break up. you’d call each other—but no conversation ever had much depth.

but, when you were both together physically, you felt comfortable, you felt wanted. the cuddling, the kissing, you loved all of the relationship related things, and it made you believe you did love him.

it came crashing down when you saw him out with another girl, you were walking out a local coffee shop with robin when you spotted him. his arm linked with hers, no shame as he leaned over to kiss her, smiling.

it’s what lead you breaking down later that day in eddie’s trailer.

you had planned hanging out with him anyways. your now ex knew about your close friendship with eddie and he never seemed to really care. you realize that he never really cared about many things.

trying to act casual after your discovery and confrontation, you should’ve known better. eddie could see right through your act. be it the way you seemed less talkative, less enthusiastic, he knew something was up. he somehow always does.

he was telling a joke, trying to make you feel better—and you love his jokes, even if they’re the cringiest or stupidest ever, you always laugh or make some sarcastic remark—when he finishes telling his joke, you laughed, which made him smile.

both sitting on the couch, he laid his arm behind where you sat, pulling one of his legs up and turning to face you.

“sooo.. you wanna talk about it?”

you turn to him, your face written with confusion, “talk about what?”

“something’s obviously bothering you. and iiii do not like that.” he tilted his head, softly smiling.

“ah, how did you know?” you give him a small smile and look up to his ceiling, letting your head hit the cushions of the couch.

you see him shrug his shoulders from the corner of your eye, “i just know.”

the tears start to form before you even register it happening, and you tell him what happened.

and he’s there, like he always is. he holds you, let’s you cry to him about your ex. not knowing how much he hurts seeing you like this over a douchebag who didn’t deserve you to begin with.

he rubs your back, attempting to calm you down. you hadn’t realized you were clinging onto him, you pull back and just opt to laying your head onto his shoulder, a few start tears falling. he wipes them away and you close your eyes, feeling his hands soothe you.

that’s when you knew.

it all happened too quick, so suddenly.

one moment you were at the basket ball game, cheering lucas on.

the next eddie was on the run for supposed murder.

and now he was laying in front of you, on the ground.

dustin was kneeled with you, but the ringing in your ears blocking everything else out. all you could see was blood and all you could hear was your ragged breathing.

soon, your vision became blurry, tears clouding your vision. in one quick moment, you were back to the present. a shout. someone was yelling, you look in front of you and you see dustin crying, eddie on his lap.

you reach for eddie’s hand, intertwining it with your own, the other wiping tears away from his face. it was now your turn to wipe away his tears, but you would’ve preferred it to be over some girl, rather than it be because of what’s to come.

his hand is already startling cold, yet you still feel him tighten his hold on you.

“eddie, you gotta keep breathing alright? we’re gonna get you out of here. dustin! we have to get him out of here!” you look over at dustin, who heard you and you both move to get up, but eddie stops you both.

“no. no—” he momentarily chokes on his own blood that gathered in his mouth. he doesn’t let go of your hand and grabs dustin’s before he could get up.

“what do you mean no?!” you cry, moving to get up again.

“s-stop! there’s no,” he gulps, “no way i’ll be able to—” he coughs, blood splattering as he does so, you use the sleeve of your shirt to shakily clean his chin, “make it.”

he looks at you, and that’s when you see. that’s when you see he’s not changing his mind, he’s not going to let you and dustin pull him back.

a part of you knows, the logical part of you, that he won’t be able to make it. that it’ll be too late by the time you pull him back home.

so you cry, you cling to him. dustin cradles eddie’s head on his lap once again, you both cling to him.

“please. please don’t.” you say between sobs, your head on his chest, his heart beat still present, your hand still in his.

he doesn’t reply, he can’t. blood blocks him from saying anything else, so he brings your intertwined hands shakily up to his lips, kissing your hand. you bring your head up to look at him, and that’s when you knew.

that’s when you knew, everything was reciprocated. you don’t know how, but you did.

you both just know each other too well, but apparently not this.

he looked at you and attempted to smile, the three of you crying. already grieving what’s to come and what could’ve been.

you shake your head, “this isn’t fair! you never should’ve been a part of any of this mess! i—i tried so hard, so hard to keep you away from all of this. but it wasn’t enough.”

laying your head back onto his chest, you feel his free hand move to your back. the familiar feeling of him soothing you, rubbing your back, making you cry harder.

then suddenly, it all stopped.

it’s like time stopped all at once.

the movements on your back were gone, the soft heartbeat had stopped.

you could’ve sworn that in that moment, yours had too.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #katstarry #fanfiction #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

94 notes · View notes

queenie-official · 3 months

Text

Chapter Eighteen: ‘A New Era’ Bridgerton!Au Anakin

previous chapter: 17

The Royal Heart series Masterlist

a/n: happy valentine’s day lovelies 🫶🏼 here’s a sweet treat from me to you 💋💋 (side note i have not proofread 👩‍🦯😭)

the following days passed a little too quickly for your liking. that’s not to say you’ve had a bad couple of days- on the contrary really. in fact you could even argue they’d been the best days you’ve spent happy consecutively in a while.

Anakin and you had been sticking together like glue. two souls locked in a fiery passion. the success of the ball had spurred you both on, and although Padme had expressed her concerns that the people will start to talk soon if they do not see signs of an heir to be- at the rate you were going the worries would cease in an instant. that would be one less worry on your list, or so you thought…

a certain royal advisor seemed pretty dead set on you and Anakin not having a moment alone together- it was easy to ignore at first, opting to just sneak off with each other to take care of your needs. but now, now it seemed as if Barclay was behind every door you opened. you can’t even tell if this is purposeful. at first you thought there was a chance he was working for Valorum or even still working for him whilst he was locked away. but you quickly realized he was sucking up to you way to much for that of a man to be trying to manipulate you, in all honesty the way he was acting was that of a man riddle with guilt. someone who wanted to atone for their transgressions, but even be was laying it on a bit thick.

you’re pulled from your thoughts as you feel Anakin begin to stir beside you, his arms loosening his grip around you as he moves his palms to rest on the fat of your hips. softly rubbing his thumb over the bare skin there, a silent greeting to what he may assume to be his still sleeping wife. little did he know you’d been awake the last hour, not wanting to move from his warm embrace before he woke up. only to then be swallowed by your own spiraling thoughts in your wait.

you turn to face him, eyes trailing over his bare chest before landing on his face. the sun cascading its warm glow that made him look borderline angelic, honestly you don’t think you could ever tire waking up to this. the way his lashes fluttered with every twitch of his eyes as he fought to stay asleep just a moment longer if his mind would will him too.

just as you begin to reach up to cradle his face you hear a knock on the door. couldn’t of been Eleanora, she would come till you rang for her. same with Rex and Braeden so that could only mean… Barclay

you couldn’t help the scowl that appeared on your face, practically holding your breath as you prayed he’d give up and walk away. then again Barclay always was the persistent type, he certainly didn’t give up and walk away when it came to trying to get you to went to marry in the first place. you honestly weren’t even mad at him for that anymore, after all if he hadn’t gone behind your back and done what he did with the council would you even be with the Man beside you. The very person who despite all odds felt as if he was connected to you from an invisible string. one that continuously pulled you back to him even when you pushed him away,

you can’t entirely credit the string for that after all Anakin stood his ground to be beside you after what came out in lady Whistledown’s papers no matter how hard you tried to evade him.

another wave of knocks sound from the door causing you to sigh, breathing out the air you’d been holding in. a small chuckle leaves Anakin’s mouth drawing your attention to him, he’d smiling. watching you pout in annoyance from Barclays incessant behavior. of course he’d find humor in this, any chance to tease you he would. at least you could count on Anakin for his consistency.

“good morning” he yawns out softly, moving one of his arms away from you to stretch. the blanket resting over top of you both sliding down his torso further in the process, his V line now exposed to the golden light of the sun.

“morning, though i’m not sure i’d say Good” you grumble and he snorts, a teasing grin settled onto his face. right as he’s about to make a retort another bunch of knocks come from the door. you groan, pulling yourself up onto your feet. the cold air causing your skin to prickle with goosebumps. quickly wrapping yourself in a robe before you open one of the doors.

just as you thought Barclay was stood with his hand raised caught right before he could knock again. “Can i help you with something Barclay?” you ask him with a passive aggressive tone to your voice. he gives you a more nervous unsure smile back.

“good morning you’re majesty-“ you huff at his greeting, cutting him off with a snide comment barely hidden under your breath. “highly debatable”

“sorry?” he asks a bit perplexed, unlikely he hadn’t heard you properly but you brush it off. waving him off, wordlessly telling him to go on. “right well, i’ve come to tell you there’s a bit of an emergency- you see with majority of the royal council now removed there’s been a bit of an uproar with the more upper class citizens.” you raise a brow, you weren’t entirely surprised. it was bound to happen eventually the positions need to be filled and a lot of the rich were definitely the types to fight and brag over whether or not they saw themselves fit for said spots.

you hum slightly in thought, “i don’t suppose this could wait until the king and i are dressed?” you ask rather sarcastically. watching as Barclay begins to stutter before he clears his throat and shakes his head. turning on his heel and muttering how he’d meet you both in the throne room when you were ready. what a glorious day this was starting out to be.

you massage one of your temples with you finger, trying to snuff the growing headache you had. you, Anakin, Barclay and the royal secretary Laurence had been going around in circles with who to fill the shoes of treasure and high Chancellor. you’d already chosen the new war marshall and admiral of the navy- they were easy to select. people who were already in the kingdoms army, people who were skilled but not violent and willing to cut corners just for a bloody victory. finding people like that was rare but easy to narrow down and in the end the choices were obvious.

Barclay and Laurence both where stuck on finding someone of sufficient status, you however didn’t care so much about the status. you just wanted someone with an actual level head to work alongside with. Anakin was for whatever you wanted but he also could see why the status mattered- not that it wasn’t clear to you. it was the same as it always was, to hire someone from the lower class over someone from upper class would be a scandal. talk about obdurate, perhaps it would be easier to ignore anger of upper class if not for whatever Lady Whistledown may write on the matter. ‘i’m never one for doing what’s easy over what’s right’ Padme’s words echoed in your head as you continued your line of thinking, if someone of lower class fit the position better then someone of status then it’d be worth fight for. Padme would certainly agree with you there.

you turn to look back at the three beside you, completely tuning out the discussion as you continue to think on this. you could only wish there where more men who thought the same way Padme did out there, you knew for a fact there were definitely women- wait, why were you only looking at men to fill these roles? sure it’s the traditional approach but if they were stuck on traditional approaches you wouldn’t have even been given the crown in the first place, it would have gone to the next closest male relative. no doubt Valorum was the reason it didn’t, he did think he’d manage to get away with manipulating you. now he was rotting in a cell and you where officially the head of Alderaan. the people may defy their queen but if the king was in agreement…

“Anakin” you spoke, sitting up straight as you watched three heads turn your way.

“what do you think about a new era?”

Tag list: @luvvfromme @gatekeepingirlboss @bimbo-baggins86 @iluvanakinskywalker @bby-imasociopath @curlycarley @burnthecheshirewitch @misscaller06 @sweetcheesecakesblog

AHHHH HI GUYYYS, I HOPE YOURE ALL HAVING A GOOD VALENTINE’S DAY 💋💋 this actually still took my quite a bit to get motivation to right 😅 but i really wanted to write a chapter for the holiday it seemed only right- anyway i’m not promising this means we’ll have a consistent upload schedule again buuttt i am going to try and do either a weekly or biweekly update for the series (please do not hold me accountable for this statement 🙏😔) I hope you all enjoyed tho 😋 love you huns Xx<3

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #anakin x you #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader fluff #anakin x reader fluff #bridgerton au!anakin x reader #bridgerton au!anakin #bridgerton au #queenie’s thoughts xx<3

63 notes · View notes

newkatzkafe2023 · 3 months

Note

What if the Monkey King's have an Female Y/N who often if she gets reallyyy attached, her eyes turn into heart shaped ones like a loop of different colors, which that showns them wanting to showoff towards the Monkey King's and be extra clingy and affectionate when they are like that.

Clingy Monkey Clingy Wife

(Lmk Wukong) He has Has heart eyes himself when it comes to you. You're always Singing love songs to him or Having passionate Make out sessions with each other. You your self purr whenever you end up in his arms And you've Begin to kiss them all over again. You tend to get pouty and jealous when he is far away from you. And sometimes you have to accept that he's got responsibilities and all that Bulls*it. But I just know when he's all done and over. With that hill run right back to you with hearts his eyes.

(NR Wukong) Man he is basking in your attention. The fact that you would do anything to keep his eyes on you and he'll do the same too. You always loves to kiss 💋 him You would get a blast flirting with him and loving on him. His favorite thing. The value is when you give them head scratches and chin scratches as well. He turns into a big purring baby and you wouldn't have it any other way.

(HIB Wukong) He might as well have a permanent Blush on his face because you can never keep your paws to yourself. You always purring into his neck and showering him with praise and compliments. You always tell him your favorite part of him is his face Because you get a touch it rubber kiss on it. There was instance where even liked his face once. He almost passed out with a blush when you did that. But I don't think he doesn't love the affection you're always giving him and He's quite happy that you care about him so much

(MK Reborn Wukong) He look like a god damn cherry. Man there is never a time when you're not hugging and kissing him. There is never a time where you don't stop by to make lunch for him. There is never a time where you're not fighting beside him or running ahead to the enemies to beat the come up. You stick to him like glow. And he can be embarrassed all he wants. But if you dare to stop, he'll be coming back demanding you give him attention. So don't take him seriously at all

(Netflix Wukong) Man , you be damned if you allow this monkey boy to question your love for him. With how you literally spend 24 hours a day with him. Hugging and kissing and complimenting him. protecting and pampering and spoiling him how you even fought beside him and crushed a bunch of demons for interrupting your date. If this boy dares to say you don't love him. Everybody's gonna be like he must be f*cking delusional. I mean, you can't blame him for having a bunch of questions but if there is a monkey girl who would die if he is five feet away from her, Then other people will be raising questions

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG

#monkey king netflix #monkey king reborn #monkey king x reader #nezha reborn #lmk monkey king #monkey king hero is back #x female y/n #x wife reader

85 notes · View notes

goldencherriess · 2 years

Text

The art of eye contact || Young! Remus Lupin x Fem! Hufflepuff! Reader

Pairing: Young! Remus Lupin x Fem! Hufflepuff! Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: The three times they made eye contact and the one time he did something about it.

Warnings: none, just pure fluff. Idiots in love

Masterlist

Honey.

That's what she saw when she met his eyes across Slughorn's class. They were sparkling and melting honey combs. Warm. Kind. Sweet. She only wished she could drown herself in them.

Slughorn's voice echoed in the background along with the bumbling of the cauldron in front of her. White noise. She paid no attention to them.

An elbow dug into her ribs brought her back to the present. Frowning, she turned to her friend, who just pointed her head subtly to the professor.

''Miss L/N, can you tell us what you smell from this cauldron?''

She gulped down the lump that was settling in her throat and took a few steps to the front of the class. Y/N could still feel his eyes on her, burning holes into her back. She took a whiff of the potion in front of her. Aromas embraced her and she suddenly felt lightheaded. She took a step back, clutching her robes in fists. ''I smell parchment, chocolate and... honey.''

Slughorn clapped, smiling. ''And can you tell me which potion it is?''

She opened her mouth to reply, but she quickly closed it, shaking her head.

''Yes, mister Lupin?''

She turned her head to where the honey eyed boy was sitting and felt her insides warm up. He was slowly lowering his hand, clearing his throat. ''It's Amortentia. Although, it's a love potion, it can't induce true love, just infatuation. Its smell is different to everyone, according to what attracts them.''

Slughorn's face lit up, once again. ''Very good, mister Lupin! Ten points to Gryffindor!''

Remus' eyes panned to hers, once again, and she felt her face burn.

''Please, miss L/N, you can go back to your seat.''

And she did, feeling his lingering gaze on her all the way to the desk and throughout the whole class.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The Great Hall was bustling with chatter and laughter. The light came through the tall windows, painting the room in a low glow. There were owls delivering mail, dropping them from the air. The Daily Prophet plunged straight in Remus' mashed potatoes with a splash, small droplets sticking to his face and hands. ''Great.'' he muttered. After wiping away the food from his skin, he picked up the newspaper and started flipping through it. Something about dark forces rising were written in ink. Feeling a pair of eyes on him, Remus looked up from the pages.

There, across the room at the Hufflepuff table, sat the Potions girl. Her eyes met his and Remus felt his chest clenching and burning up. She softly smiled and he felt his own lips curling up. The hands on the newspaper loosened, letting The Daily Prophet fall right back into the mashed potatoes.

''Heaven help a fool who falls in love'' said Sirius from besides him, snickering.

Remus turned his head so fast that he was sure he would have gotten whiplash. ''What's that supposed to mean?''

''You're smitten'' smirked Sirius while he bit into the glistening and fat chicken leg.

Remus shook his head, sandy hair falling into his eyes. ''That's not true. We barely even talked!''

''Doesn't matter, mate, it's written all over your face.''

Remus threw Sirius a look. ''What's written over my face is annoyance.''

''Hmm, I beg to differ'' replied Sirius with a mouth full of food. He gulped down the meat, the rich aroma caressing his throat like a velvet to the touch. ''There's no time better than the present! You should ask her out. Someone will snatch her up.''

''Someone like who? You? She's not your type, Padfoot.''

''She may not be my type, but I am everyone's'' said Sirius, pointing at him with the chicken leg. ''Just so you know.'' he shrugged.

Remus grumbled a series of nonsense under his breath, between ''This ladies man, I swear'' and ''We just share Slughorn's class, that's all.''

''You should ask Prongs for love advice. He had more luck with Evans than you did with this Hufflepuff bird.''

Mashed potatoes were thrown. ''Oh, shut up!''

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The library was always a place she found solace in. Peace and quiet. And books. Their smell got her high. She could flip through a book hours on end and never feel time passing by.

The afternoon sun was streaming in through the windows, illuminating the dancing dust and the golden books' spines. She read each one, caressing their covers, much like a lover would caress lips.

A sigh escaped her own lips when she remembered the essay on Amortentia she had to write for Slughorn's class. ''Thirty percent of your grade!'' he had said.

It was safe to say Potions wasn't her favourite class. Not because she didn't like it, but because it was the one class she wasn't on top of. Charms were more of her area. Safe and easy to understand.

Her fingertips came across a Potions book. It was worn out, but it would do, Y/N decided. She went to take it out when her fingers brushed someone else's from the other side. A shock travelled her arm all the way to her heart.

The book was removed from the shelf and her eyes met honey ones. Warm. Kind. Sweet. Y/N realized that maybe drowning in them would be a sweet sorrow.

''Oh, sorry, did you want this book?'' said Remus from the other side of the shelf.

''No, it's alright, you keep it.'' And she turned on her heels, feeling her cheeks burning up.

''Wait-''

Her walk was rapid fire, her hair flying behind her. She collided with someone's chest. A chocolate smell embraced her, inviting her in. She suddenly remembered that day in Slughorn's class. Y/N took a step back, feeling very small and flustered. Her face was all red like a blooming rose.

''Sorry!'' said the honey eyed boy.

She just nodded and took a step around him. His hand lingered on her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. He hastily retracted his hand, scratching the back of his head. ''I, uh- you can have the book.''

Y/N shook her head. ''It's alright.''

Remus wrapped his fingers around hers, giving her the book. ''No, please. I'll just find something else.''

His touch kissed her skin in small fireworks and she found herself wondering if he felt it too. Her gaze met his. Honey. ''Thank you'' she breathed.

He softly smiled, nodding his head. And he left.

Her hand felt cold afterwards.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The Great Lake was the perfect place on the school grounds to take a break and just breathe. The air was fresh and sweet and it made her lightheaded. The last sun rays were reflecting in waves in the water like light scales. It was peaceful. Tranquil. And for a moment, Y/N felt at peace herself. She closed her eyes, leaning her back on the tree trunk. The willow was swiftly dancing in the wind, whispering nothings in the air. Peace.

That was until a splash was heard. A few droplets of water splattered her and she shrieked. They were cold against her warm skin. Y/N blinked against the sun, bringing a hand to her forehead. There, a few meters in front of her, on the shore was Remus and his gang of blokes. His sandy hair was shining in the afterglow and he was laughing. His laugh was carried by the wind all the way to her. It lit something inside of her and Y/N found herself smiling lightly.

The one who jumped in the water had shoulder length, ebony hair. And was suddenly aware of her presence. ''Oi! Ain't that your Hufflepuff birdie, Moony?''

Remus turned his head towards her, a smile gracing his features. His eyes met hers and Y/N got on her feet, turning away. Her chest contracted, all the air leaving her. Her cheeks reddened, once again.

''Wait, Y/N!''

His hand gripped her wrist and turned her towards him. He was so close. Y/N could see every imperfection on his face and smell his chocolate, homey scent. But the eyes were what froze her in her spot. They were so strikingly warm, so invitingly sweet. There were specks of gold in the warm, brown, honey eyes. She could count each and every one of them. If she could, she would have taken a jump in their pool, swimming in their depth. But she couldn't. So, she just settled in gazing in them, hoping to see Remus' soul and some of his heart.

Snickers were heard from the back. ''Yeah, get some, Moony!''

He blushed in the light, dropping her hand. ''Don't listen to them. They're a bunch of idiots.''

She shook her head. ''I'm not.'' she whispered.

''Right, right. Uh-''

''You have really pretty eyes.''

He almost choked. ''I, uh- Thank you, I mean, you also have pretty eyes. The best, really.''

She giggled, tilting her head. ''Am I making you nervous?''

Remus puffed out. ''Just a little bit. Am I making you nervous?''

Y/N shrugged, looking at her worn out shoes. ''Just a little bit.''

Silence followed. Only the gentle swings of the willow branches and the lapping of the waves were heard. The sun was now dipping in the horizon, casting orange hues over her face and hair and Remus thought he was looking at an angel. If he could squint enough, he could see her wings.

He took her hand, again. Sparks. They pinched him, drawing shocks against his skin. Her doe eyes looked up at him and Remus smiled, letting adoration find home on his features. ''Would you like to go to Hogsmeade this weekend? With me?''

She slowly blinked. ''Are you asking me out?''

He nodded, his thumb starting to caress the back of her hand. ''I am.''

Her face broke out in a grin. ''I would love to.''

His heart skipped a bit. ''Then, it's date.''

Bonus:

''Ten galleons, boys. Come on, a bet is a bet.''

''This is ridiculous, Padfoot. You practically set them up!''

''Nuh uh, that was the power of love!''

''Rubbish!''

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Writing this fluffy fic was so much fun! It was inspired by "Ophelia" -The Lumineers. It's also written for @lucywrites02 ' creative challenge, so make sure to check their blog out!

Any feedback is welcomed! Take care xx

Tag list: @bohemianrhapsody86 @serenefreakgeek

1K notes · View notes

slickfordain · 1 year

Text

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢�� 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 | Darling who’s like Nezuko Kamado

🎀 This is a non-SAGAU post again, but note to that— I will take a break from SAGAU. I’ll probably do SAGAU again in summer, but I won’t do God reader.

🎀 Yandere, wholesome, gore, Inazuma themed, platonic

✑ It was just a sunny day with just another hangout with the people of Inazuma, as people have taken a liking to you, and adores you every single day. It’s not surprising though, you’re just so cute how can they resist? Ever since the Shogun arc where she wanted to test your limit, you were harmless, thanks to the almighty traveler that is… You were just an innocent Oni, and everyone took advantage of that against you to hang out with every single one of them.

Yoimiya is actually wonderful with children~ She is like Mitsuri, and you both act like how Mitsuri and Nezuko are together. She will tickle your sides for fun, pamper you, and would even show you fireworks to amaze you. She knows you have memory loss of what you are and what you like, so she wants to show you everything this world had to offer. She even lets you greet her father, who isn’t amazing at hearing— but he treats you like his own child as well. Who wouldn’t love such a cute demon like you? You were adorable, quiet, and very polite. However… Yoimiya wonders why you always have a muzzle but… Perhaps it’s because you didn’t want to show your thangs— But Yoimiya gets really worried if you don’t eat! She hopes one day you’ll eat her dish… She just can’t stand it whenever it’s her time to sleep, shivering at the thought of you starving… She couldn’t have that… Not at all…

Kokomi Sangonomiya feels so at home actually, because she feels like she’s not a total freak or a horrible leader whenever she’s around you. Kokomi takes wonderful care of you, and even allows you to eat her food despite that she’s hungry. But you don’t really… Eat… But that’s fine, she will wait patiently until you’ve decided to be comfortable eating nearby beside her. If you managed to get hurt like how Nezuko gets injured from Karaku, Kokomi would be enraged. She may look sweet and loving, but Kokomi will have the one’s head on a fucking stick. Kokomi hates having you injured and hurt, and when you tried waking someone up from their slumber and head-butting them— in result of bleeding from your forehead? Unacceptable! How disappointing these people can’t be more careful with you! Kokomi will not rest. She refuses to… She will be in the dark, glaring with her glowing eyes, as she will drown everyone who has hurt you— in her Hydro bubbles.

Gorou loves taking care of you and always votes to be your babysitter… But at times, it could get difficult each time whenever he has to do his duties. To be honest, you and Gorou would be like Nezuko and Inosuke— allowing Gorou to be your horse and you being on his back as he carries you away! What do you mean you think your heavy? You’re not heavy, you’re the perfect weight. So don’t you dare worrying about your weight, because Gorou might think someone had dared to make you insecure— and oh, he would be teamed with Kokomi, as the two, are very protective over you. And yes, it does get a little annoying when someone pets his ears and tail— but for you? He would allow you with no hesitation. Look how happy you are~ Gorou could die happy from knowing his fur just makes you cozy… He will be your wonderful big brother, he swore to that… He will coo into you and cuddle you. If anyone dared to wake you up, expect them to have their lungs and organs spewing from their body.

Thoma is like your father figure. He always reminds you when to sleep, and hopefully someday he can tell you when to eat when that muzzle is once removed when you’re comfortable with it. Thoma makes sure you stay healthy and well, babying you and… Has a weak-spot for your tiny small form. He hasn’t seen anyone shifting from tall to small… But Archons, it just makes him want to squeeze you to death like a kitty who looks ready to be pampered. He will buy you anything! He steals from the Kamisato siblings but, he means well! He swears he does. And as much as he knows you can regenerate well and be alive from any gruesome injuries, Thoma can’t help but feel a sting of hatred for the person who made you upset. Thoma is usually loving, friendly, and outgoing… But he can’t handle it if it’s you getting wounds and cuts here and there— You lost an arm too for God damnit. Yes you regenerated it, but he will lock you inside the house if it means for you to be safe!

Kamisato Ayato is like your shitty older brother who disses and insults you, chuckling and grinning for time to time. Oh don’t get it wrong, he doesn’t dislike or hate you, it’s the opposite. With Ayato having high popularity and status, he needs to fulfill his duties of being a kind, polite, reserved gentleman. And it’s frustrating, to the point he felt like he could be himself around you. Oh, how loved he felt when you just huff and puff every now and then, whining like a little baby. Ayato would laugh and just tease you more… However… If anyone were to diss or dislike you, and they weren’t him, he will order guards immediately to decapitate them. Who do they think they are? Pretending to be Ayato? How dare they fucking insult you. You’re the beauty of their hometown, their [Name]. They should know their God damn place. He doesn’t care if they’re innocent, all their innocence has gone out the window for just insulting you merely by the slightest sentence. They called you weird? Yeah bye. They said you’re too quiet and need to be talkative? Shut up, how dare they speak to you like that. Ah… Yes… You’re totally safe with Ayato.

Kamisato Ayaka however is completely different from her brother. She’s the sweeter older sister, seconding behind Yoimiya… Ayaka won’t admit it out loudly, but she hates it when Yoimiya steals your time. It just makes her blood boil… You were the only one, alongside with the traveler, who treated her like an actual human being… And not just some girl who dances to please people. You cared. You gave her that affection and attention to make her feel like herself… You were just an adoring demon she looks up to… She especially loves hearing your soft laughter from that muzzle you have on. Ayaka never thought it was weird, and respected your style actually— So let her dance every now and then for you… Please? She wants to hear your happy laughter once again… She just wants you to be happy. She can’t afford you being away from her one second. She will itch her skin and go insane if you do. Please don’t leave her. Let Ayato take care of the cruel civilians, as she will hug and soothe you, humming a lullaby. She just really adores you, [Name].

Heyy, sorry I haven’t posted In a while but I finally did it. I won’t be posting SAGAU for a while and I hope you all understand, I’m just really stressed at the moment. I’ll hopefully do Raiden Ei and other characters I forgot to add, but I haven’t had much time.

#various x reader #various #yandere x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #yandere genshin impact #Yandere genshin impact x reader #inazuma x reader

163 notes · View notes

the1975attheirverybest · 1 year

Text

A Brief History of Time

A/N: sorry this request took a minute. My mental health as been trash lately and I feel like it’s starting to affect my writing. Hope this can still bring a smile to your faces though. Or at least make the person who requested it happy. Let me know what you think!

Warnings: none.

—-

“When I said I wanted to go for a walk, I didn’t realize it was gonna be raining.” She groaned, using her purse as a makeshift rain hat to protect herself from the rain.

“What, you call this rain? That’s not real rain. We’re in Manchester, baby.” Matty smiled, looking up at the sky as raindrops landed in his hair.

“What else would I call it?”

“Spitting.” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Is that a Manchester thing?”

“Could be? I think it’s just an England thing to be honest.” He shrugged, watching her frown with every raindrop that landed on her clothes. “Alright, alright, you big baby. let’s find you an umbrella.”

***

“This was their last one.” Matty called out as he emerged out of the store. “You got really lucky- allow me.” He opened the umbrella for her, sticking his arm out, and gesturing for her to get underneath it. “M’lady.” She hopped closer to it, relieved at the shelter it provided. Matty held the umbrella up for her while she wrapped her fingers around his arm, huddling in to share in the cover with him.

“All better now?” He smiled down at her.

“Mhm.” She reached up, kissing his lips as a gesture of gratitude. “You know what would be even better, though?”

“What, my love?”

“If we could stop at that Starbucks over there. I think a coffee might be nice.”

“You want a coffee? Alright. But we’re absolutely NOT going into a Starbucks. I know a better place.”

“It’s gonna be really far away, isn’t it?”

Matty said nothing, simply smiling as he sprinted down the street, causing her to giggle and speed up to keep up with him.

***

“Oh, hey, look. It’s The Deaf Institute.” Matty stopped in his tracks abruptly, pointing at the building. A smile crept its way onto his face as he walked closer to the front door, leaning in to take a peak through the glass.

She couldn’t help but smile as well as she watched him visibly light up at the sight of the place whispering exclamations to himself.

“It’s where we had our first proper 1975 show, you know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah…like, just when we were starting to attract attention. We played here and it fucking blew my mind that people knew the lyrics to ‘The City.’” Matty’s eyes twinkled with pride as he recalled the night, a decade ago. He couldn’t believe how quickly his whole life had changed.

“Hey, let’s go in there.” She whispered in his ear, as if sharing a secret plan.

“I thought you wanted a coffee…”

“Just a quick look around. I wanna see!”

“Alright, then.” Matty held the door open for her. “After you.”

“You’re such a gentleman.” She teased.

The place bustled with energy. The warm orange -red lights giving everything a golden glow. The space was by no means huge, but it was definitely packed. The walls lined with promotional posters of upcoming events. Some announced comedy shows, others were for bands and up and coming artists. She found herself imaging a 24 year old Matty, excitedly bouncing around the place. The image made her heart flutter with joy.

“I mean, at the time, the place felt enormous to us. We didn’t even have that many songs yet, I can’t believe we managed to put together a set list.” He laughed. “Oh my god. Look how low the stage is. In my mind, I was way above the crowd. This can’t be more than a few inches.” He giggled at the power of his memory to exaggerate the details of such a concrete moment.

An idea popped into her head. She pulled her phone out, typing “the 1975 the deaf institute,” into the search engine. “Oh my god, look! It’s on YouTube!” She held her phone up to his face, watching as he chuckled dramatically. “Look at my fuckin hair. What a wanker!” He shook his head.

“Hey, Matty? I have an idea. Go stand over there. I wanna take a picture of you. Re-create this original moment.”

“Babe-“

“Nope. I’m not taking no for an answer. Go!”

Begrudgingly, Matty did as she said, standing in the same corner that he clung to 10 years ago, smiling at her.

“Iconic! I’m making that my phone background.” She announced, proud of herself for having made him do it.

Within moments, a group of friends at the bar had recognized him and walked over to say hello.

She stood a short distance away, watching, and brimming with pride as he shook the fans’ hands and posed for pictures with them.

“Thank you. Nice to meet you!” He waved at them on the way out, flinging his arm around her and getting ready to open his umbrella again.

The rain had picked up when they stepped back out onto the street. It was definitely no longer just ‘spitting.’

“We’re having our afterparty at The Deaf Institute, you know? Like after our Manchester show.” Matty informed her as the building began to disappear behind them.

The pitter-patter of the rain against their umbrella was too loud for them to hold a conversation. They walked side by side, in silence, Matty occasionally pulling her to him and kissing her forehead.

“What- the- fu-“ Matty’s face dropped, pausing at the sidewalk.

“What? What is it, baby?”

“This- this was supposed to be the coffee shop.”

She looked around, confused. “Where?”

“Exactly! It’s gone! This- here!” He pointed to a partially demolished building. “This is where George and I would come get a coffee sometimes. Adam and Ross hated it. I mean, they’re right, it was shit, but it was all we could afford when we were kids, so- I can’t believe it’s gone!”

“I hate to interrupt your nostalgic grief, but umm, you were purposefully bringing me to a shitty coffee place?”

Matty smiled, his reminiscent bubble popping instantly. He shook his head. “It’s shit in a good way. You know when somethings so bad that it’s actually kinda good?”

“Nope. No, sorry, I do not.” The coffee snob in her finding his logic unacceptable.

He chuckled, taking her hand in his and resuming their walk once again. “C’mon. Let’s keep walking. We’ll find something eventually.”

***

“Do you like Manchester?” He looked down at her face. The rain had finally stopped, so he closed the umbrella, using his now free arm to keep her close to him as they walked on.

“You know what? I think I do, actually. Plus, you seem to love it, and I like seeing you so happy.”

“Think I’d like to raise my kids here.” Matty blurted out, unthinkingly.

“You-you think about having kids?”

“Yeah, I mean….you know. Someday. Don’t you?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, me too. I guess I just didn’t realize you were thinking about stuff like this- like, where you’d raise them.”

“Can’t help it. When I’m here, it’s kind of all I want.”

She felt a warm and fuzzy tingle in her stomach at the thought of Matty raising his kids in the place that had brought him up. She thought it was sweet that he’d considered something like that.

Matty had seen something that made him stop right away. She hadn’t realized it until she felt his arm pull her back like an anchor, and when she turned around to see what he was looking at, she noticed the posters herself.

“Wow…record shop?”

“No, it’s a club actually.”

“Look! The Arctic Monkeys.” She giggled, pointing to the poster, having noticed that The 1975’s own ILWYS poster was hanging just a few rows below.

“You think you’re teasing me, but I’m genuinely an Arctic Monkeys fan so, I don’t mind.” Matty laughed.

“Yeah, you’re probably the only person who doesn’t hate their new album.”

“Hey! No slagging off my boy, Alex.”

“Did you just…call Alex Turner ‘your boy’ ?” She shook her head.

“Don’t care what Twitter says. He and I get on and I think their song ‘Perfect Sense,’ is fucking mint.”

“Alright, well, we’ve been walking for like an hour and I still don’t have coffee. Can we please go to Starbucks now?”

***

They sat on the bench by the river, sipping their coffee and enjoying watching the birds land and dip into the water for a drink.

When Matty turned to look into her eyes, he noticed that she was shivering. Quietly, he took off his long, black coat and wrapped it around her, laughing to himself at the sight of her being swallowed whole by the fabric.

“Thank you, babe.” She kissed his hand.“Where’d you get this coat, anyway?”

“Stole it off the wardrobe department. Patricia found it for a photo shoot, but I liked it too much to let it go, so…”

“So, I’m wrapped up in stolen goods is what you’re telling me.”

“But doesn’t the fabric feel really nice, though?”

“I….can’t lie, it does.” She conceded, closing her eyes and enjoying the whiff of Matty’s cologne that flooded her senses when a gust of air rattled the coat around her body.

“If you’re too cold, we could just go home.”

“No, please. I’m having the best afternoon. Let’s stay for a little while.”

135 notes · View notes

lightwise · 1 month

Text

TBB S3E6 Reactions

Alright, in lieu of an analysis this week, you guys get some extra long reactions from me. Spoilers for Infiltration under the cut!

- Pantora: These onion-top spires are very cool.

- Nice poncho Rex but we can all see those tally marked scratches peeking out from underneath it.

- The Clone X theme hits HARD even when it’s only the first notes of it

- GS-8! Senator Singh! Howzer! Man the Kiners weren’t kidding with the Leo meme

- Okay Senator Singh maybe if you’ve been in hiding you shouldn’t be wearing your native cultural garb in case you stick out 🤓

- Tea?? Riyo?? I wanna have tea with her ☺️ also I want that teapot haha

- Always love the political aftermath of the clone wars and the humanizing of the separatist movement

- Singh has a little helmet recorder like Tech does…interesting

- One clone X boy coming up

- RIP Greer

- Rex is 🔥 catching that grenade…thankfully not literally

- Stripey helmet—that’s Nemec or Fireball, right??

- It really took 3 stuns to get that CX to drop. What has Hemlock been doing to them?? Are they pumped up with something to give them more endurance?

- Fireball mention!! So that’s Nemec with them.

- Wow Teth is gorgeous. I would not have remembered what this outpost means to Rex if it hadn’t come up during the trailer

- A clone base!!! This is SO FREAKING COOL (and has so many implications for the fic I’ve been writing)

- What is with the little knee socks on these bodysuits. They just look so silly

- Although Howzer’s extra pouches are also up there for hilarity points

- Ew they yanked out his tooth

- “You’re still one of us” is he though? Is there anything original left in there?

- Part of me feels like Scorch has been brainwashed too.

- “Why have I been activated” lmaoooo grumpy boi

- Internal homing device?? Greatttt

- How Rex says Tantiss 🥺

- Howzer ready to throw some hands (first of many)

- Rex’s face when he’s worried about Omega 🥺🥺🥺 he just wants to protect her and the Batch

- This is the story of Omega and her toothpick 🤣🤣

- Crosshair shaking his head at her even though he probably gave it to her 🤣 (also dear lord how does he look SO PRETTY here nursing that toothpick with his eyes glowing in the dark. Ugh I can’t with this man

- Gregor mention!

- Man Echo is not wanting to answer Hunter’s questions lol

- Omega is approaching her teen years now, Hunter. Of course she’s going to be copying her emo big (little) brother. He looks both glad that they’re bonding and also worried that they’re the reason Rex needs to talk to them.

- Still think Rex looks naked without his pauldron. I do love the detail that the paint on his shoulder underneath it would be much brighter and less worn than everywhere else, though

- “Good to see you, Rex” 🥹

- Hunter and Crosshair’s little glance.

- “Interesting contacts” what the heck does that mean Echo?? What have you been doing acquiring illegal weapons parts?? I mean they’re not illegal but they’re not exactly the norm either

- Their little salutes 🥹

- Lil stealth bomber jet vibes on this ship. Yes I will admit that looks like the Tech Turn as he touches down

- “You’re gonna have to back down Captain” the boys are so back. Only Hunter gets to mess with his brother and vice versa

- Lol everyone thinking that if you’ve been on Tantiss you automatically have the coordinates of where it’s located. Hemlock’s too smart for that, guys

- Crosshair looking solely at Hunter when he says “I’m not loyal to the Empire any longer” 😭😭😭 like his approval and understanding is the only one that matters

- Poor Omega does not want to talk about what she’s been through 💔

- Kind of surprised they don’t know what M-count means but it also makes sense. Obviously Rex has heard it mentioned from Anakin or Ahsoka but they don’t know the implications

- Okay, Rex, for the rest of this episode—I love you but WHERE are your security measures???? How does CX just waltz right in the front door and you don’t even have an alarm or key code or anything???

- Gregor canonically cooks!! Looking at you DJ 😄

- Crosshair’s description of the CX program is TERRIFYING. He can barely make himself talk about it. He was close to becoming one of them?? How is he walking around with all that knowledge and Hemlock didn’t wipe his mind if it? None of this is good. My poor boy.

- Gosh Rex sounds so tired.

- Crosshair sounds TERRIFIED.

- How does CX run so fast?

- Interesting that they give the woozy perspective of the other CX as Crosshair comes into the room

- Okay let me reiterate for you all—Crosshair is absolutely terrified here. Similar to Tech, this man is almost unflappable. If he’s scared they all should be hightailing it immediately. What the hell has Hemlock done to these clones??

- Does the CX truly recognize Crosshair? And why would Hemlock still use the designation “brother” as part of their programming? All this mind control stuff is making the chips look like child’s play

- Okay but in all seriousness, what if most of the clones being put through the undercover program still have their chips installed and those somehow can be reactivated or enhanced again? Crosshair does not, therefore it’s much harder for Hemlock to persuade him

- That sniper shot was insane. As was that creepy laugh.

- Some of the dialogue in these episodes is feeling unnecessary. Omega pointing out where shots are coming from is a little obvious

- Fireball 😢😢😢 at least you lived up to your name

- And goodbye monastery

- Woooooolffeeee. Armor as amazing as always. What the heck has he been up to to get put on missions like this. We’re one step closer to getting the old man Seelos gang together.

#the bad batch #tbb #star wars #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch season 3 #tbb season 3 #tbb season 3 spoilers #the bad batch season 3 spoilers

22 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

jaycookie

jayCookie

oomisluvr

heavensent

motivacijaedukacija

MotivacijaEdukacija

soarien

let-them-eat-rakes

#1 fan of cashew from blush blush