#I LIKE HIM A LOT!!!!!! HES SUCH A GOOD CHARACTER!!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

navybrat817 · 2 days ago

Text

Cooking Together

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky asks you to cook a meal with him.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Fluff, longing, pining, canon divergent neighbor AU, flirting of sorts, mention of HYDRA, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Short and sweet for @stellar-solar-flare’s Starry Winter Sky Event! I went with cooking together and Neighbor AU as a small expansion of this nonsense. February has had some lingering January energy, and I hope you enjoy what I was able to write! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

If you asked Bucky if he thought he was a good cook, he’d say he was decent. He retained some of what his mom taught him many years ago and he carefully followed recipes once he was completely free of HYDRA. It was admittedly a bit of a rough go at first. Being able to choose what he could eat was a foreign concept after he didn't have the choice for so long. It got better each day. Every single meal he got to reclaim a piece of himself by making the choice of what he did and didn’t want.

Until today, he always cooked alone.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” you smiled, graciously accepting the apron he handed you.

Bucky had moved into the building a few months ago and you lived across the hall. As far as neighbors went, you were the best. Since day one, you always greeted him with a smile and a kind word. You never played your music too loud or disturbed anyone. Alpine adored you, which told him everything he needed to know since she was the best judge of character. And you never once objected to looking out for her when he had to leave for a mission.

Out of paranoia, he left harmless little “traps” to see if you'd snoop through anything the very first time you went over. Nothing that would hurt you or draw your attention, of course, but something that would let him know if anyone tampered with anything. You didn't. You were a genuinely good and respectful person, and that made him trust you more.

“Thanks for accepting the invitation. And allow me,” he offered, stepping behind you to help you tie it. His fingers lingered on the fabric and he took the moment to inhale your sweet scent before he stepped away. He didn't want to be a creep. “And it’s the least I could do since you offered to watch Alpine. Again.”

“I love watching her. She’s wonderful.”

The photos you sent were something he always looked forward to when he was away. Some of the captions you added made him laugh and smile. His favorite was a selfie you took with Alpine’s cheek against yours. He saved it as “my girls”, which you weren’t aware of.

Because you technically weren’t his girl.

“Well, she adores you,” Bucky smiled. He adored you, too. It stunned him when he found out you were single, and he was selfishly thankful for that.

“I’ll have to get her another toy,” you said, your lips curling in a small smile. “If that’s okay with you.”

He laughed, a warm and easy sound. “Between the two of us, she’s spoiled rotten and she wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He never expected to be a cat dad, but life surprised him. In fact, it also surprised him that Alpine wasn’t camping out nearby or brushing against one of your legs. She was a smart cat and likely somehow sensed that he wanted alone time with you.

“Well, she deserves it,” you winked before things went quiet.

One of the nice things about hanging out with you was that he didn't mind any bouts of silence. They didn’t feel awkward or tense. In those quiet moments and stolen glances he felt like he had the best conversations with you. He was happy and felt safe being in the same space as you.

“You know,” Bucky began as he set the ingredients on the counter. He lucked out by having a decent sized kitchen since he took up a lot of space. “If I was a better neighbor, I would've just cooked a meal for you while you relaxed.”

It felt romantic for the two of you to cook together, but you weren't together and now he felt like an idiot. A gentleman would've made you a meal and pampered you. Or take you out for a nice meal. He hadn’t dressed up, opting for his jeans and a trademark Henley while you wore a sundress that had his mind racing with both sweet and filthy images. He didn't have flowers for you either.

His “game”, as Sam would say, was rusty.

“You're a great neighbor, Bucky. The best neighbor I’ve had,” you defended. He tried to be a good neighbor and person. A minor way to make up for some of his forced wrongdoings. “And cooking something together is fun! We could even try something at my place next week if you'd like.”

Bucky almost knocked the salt over, his eyes wide. “Really?” You were inviting him over to do this again?

“Yeah, really,” you replied, taking a moment to scan the simple recipe in the cookbook. You always had the cutest expression when you concentrated on something, and he didn’t want to choose something too difficult for the first meal. “We can take turns picking things out to try and trade off cooking at your place and mine. You can even bring Alpine over if you want.”

He suddenly had the image of you in his arms, dancing around the kitchen as you both waited for a meal in the oven to cook. Soft music, low lighting, his hands on your hips, and a tender smile on your face. Stealing a gentle kiss and keeping his eyes open only for a moment so he could see for himself that it wasn't a dream.

“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling his hair back in a ponytail and washing his hands to distract himself from his thoughts. “I’d really like that.”

“Great,” you exhaled. His heart beat faster when he caught you staring. He liked to pretend the look in your eyes was longing. “Sorry. You just…” you cleared your throat and gestured to his head. “You have really nice hair.”

The compliment had his heart racing even faster. “I have nice hair?” he asked. Your fingers would feel amazing in his hair.

You ducked your head for a moment before you met his gaze with a soft smile. “Yeah, you do.”

“Thanks,” he smiled back, his shoulder brushing yours when he stood beside you. Electricity lightly cracked between you. Did you feel it, too? “Um, I peeled the carrots before you got here. Would you like to cut them?”

“Oh, I think you’re better with a knife than I am,” you giggled.

He puffed his chest out and twirled the knife he selected in his hand without thinking about it. Part of him was showing off because, well, he wanted you to stare again. “How about I help you?”

“Help me? How?” you asked.

“Here.” He placed the knife in your hand and stood behind you once he had the carrots on the cutting board. “I’m going to preface this by saying I’m far from an expert, but I usually cut them into decent sized pieces before I dice them.”

“I trust your judgement,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. Your faces were close enough that he could kiss you if he leaned in a fraction. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t take what you didn’t offer.

Carefully placing his hands over yours once you faced forward, he felt that electricity crackle again as he helped guide you. He angled his hips so he didn’t press against you, but still stayed close. “See? You’re a natural,” he whispered against your ear when you made the first cut through the vegetable.

He heard the hitch in your breath and how your blood rushed faster in your veins. He felt your skin warm under his touch as you cut the next piece. He also caught the slight tremble that went through your frame when his grip tightened, but he didn’t sense any fear. He hadn't detected any sort of fear or disgust since he came into your life.

But what he sensed in this very moment was excitement.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you whispered back. The way you spoke his name was breathy, beautiful, and he longed to hear that again. “You’re a great teacher.”

“I’m not,” he said, thankful your back was to him so you wouldn’t see the pink that tinted his cheeks. “But I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, you are,” you stated, tempting him to turn your head toward him to kiss you. If he did that and you stabbed him, he wouldn’t blame you or hold it against you. “And Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“I really am glad you invited me over,” you said.

He stopped himself from putting his face in the crook of your neck. “I am, too,” he said, smiling to himself as he helped you finish up. “And now that you’ve mastered the carrots, we can chop the onions.”

“Onions? Oh, no,” you groaned playfully.

As the sound of both of you laughing a second later filled the room, Bucky was glad he went with his gut and asked for you two to cook together.

And maybe before the night was over, he’d ask you out on a date and prove to himself that his game wasn't completely hopeless.

I wonder just how he'll ask you out! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

532 notes · View notes

urdreamydoodles · 2 days ago

Text

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters Receiving a Dirty Picture from You in Public

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

God, I love Marvel Comics...

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

Peter has been through a lot. He’s fought villains, lost people he’s loved, and carried the weight of responsibility since he was a kid. But nothing—not Venom, not Doctor Octopus, not the Green Goblin—has ever hit him as hard as opening his phone and seeing you.

He’s perched upside-down on a fire escape, mid-stakeout with Daredevil, when his phone buzzes. He barely glances at it at first, assuming it’s an update from MJ or the Bugle. But then—his Spidey-Sense misfires. His stomach drops. And suddenly, he’s scrambling so fast that he almost falls off the fire escape.

“...Parker?” Matt’s voice is suspicious, brow furrowing beneath the red mask. Peter clutches his phone like a lifeline, heat rushing to his face, his entire body going rigid. “Uh—nope! Nothing’s wrong! Totally fine! Just, uh—gotta—go!” Before Matt can say another word, Peter web-slings away, heart pounding.

Later, in his apartment, he stares at the image, biting his lip so hard he might draw blood. Then, fumbling with his phone, he types back: You cannot just drop this on me in the middle of a mission. I almost DIED. You’re gonna make it up to me. In person. Immediately.

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

Tony Stark is always the one making people flustered. He’s the king of inappropriate timing, the grandmaster of chaos. So when you flip the game on him? When you send him something completely indecent while he’s in the middle of a live press conference? Oh, he is in trouble.

He’s mid-sentence, standing in front of a sea of reporters, when his phone vibrates. He glances at it without thinking, because hey, it might be about stock prices or another alien invasion. But no. No, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

He visibly freezes. Blinks. Blanches. Then—his brain blue screens. The entire room stares as Tony suddenly cuts off mid-sentence, clears his throat, and forces a smirk that’s absolutely not covering up a crisis. “Uh—ladies and gentlemen, I think that’s enough questions for today.”

The moment he’s offstage, he stumbles into the nearest private room, yanks at his tie, and pulls out his phone like it holds the meaning of life. He types back immediately: Oh, now you’ve done it, sweetheart. I hope you’re home right now, because I’m on my way, and I’m bringing consequences.

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

Steve is not a prude. He’s been around, he’s seen things. But there’s something about you—about the way you know exactly how to knock the breath from his lungs—that makes him feel like a kid again.

He’s in the middle of a strategy meeting with Sam and Bucky, his shield leaning against the table, when his phone vibrates. He checks it without thinking, eyes flicking down—and then every muscle in his body tenses. His grip on the phone tightens. His ears burn red.

“You good, Rogers?” Bucky gives him a knowing smirk, because he immediately recognizes that look—Steve flustered beyond belief. Steve clears his throat, hard, locking his phone like it’s offended him. “Fine,” he says, voice a little too even. “Let’s, uh—let’s keep going.”

But later, when he’s alone, he exhales deeply, pressing a hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, with slow deliberation, he types: I hope you know what you just started. Because I don’t break my promises, sweetheart. And I promise—you’re not leaving that bed when I get there.

Thor Odinson aka. God of Thunder

Thor has seen battles, has waged wars across the cosmos, has faced monsters and gods. But when his phone pings—when he sees the absolute sin that you’ve just sent him—he forgets how to breathe.

He is in the middle of the Avengers’ common room, laughing boisterously with Bruce and Natasha, when he pulls out his phone. He expects something simple—a text from his brother, perhaps, or a message from Jane. But instead? Instead, he sees you.

The entire room feels it when Thor’s laughter stops. There is a moment—just a beat of silence—before the lights flicker. The air crackles with static electricity. His fingers twitch around the phone, and then, in a low, very serious voice, he mutters, “By the Norns…”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, but Thor abruptly stands, clearing his throat. “I must depart. Urgently.” Bruce frowns. “What? Why?” Thor barely offers an explanation before storming out of the room, typing furiously: You dare tempt the God of Thunder? Very well, little one. You shall learn what it means to summon a storm.

Loki Laufeyson aka. God of Mischief

Loki is the undisputed master of control. He is calm, composed, always one step ahead of everyone else. But when you send him something so shameless, so brazen, in the middle of an important diplomatic event in Asgard—he nearly drops his goblet of wine.

He’s reclining on his throne, listening to some dull ambassador drone on about trade negotiations, when his phone vibrates. He lifts it lazily, expecting nothing of importance—until he sees you.

His entire body goes rigid. His grip tightens around the goblet, the silver denting beneath his fingers. His green eyes darken, and for the first time in centuries, he feels his pulse stutter. The ambassador keeps talking, oblivious, but Loki? Loki is seething.

Later, in his chambers, he lounges on his bed, turning the phone over in his fingers before smirking. Then, with slow, careful precision, he types: You dare tease the God of Mischief? Oh, darling, you are in such trouble. And you know how much I enjoy trouble.

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

Clint Barton is used to chaos. He’s fought alien invasions, taken down crime syndicates, and, most impressively, lived in a house with three dogs and somehow survived. But nothing—not the Avengers, not S.H.I.E.L.D., not even Kate Bishop’s endless sarcasm—could have prepared him for this.

He’s in the middle of a debriefing with Captain America and Black Widow when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it, but boredom gets the better of him. He sneaks a glance, tilting the screen just slightly—and immediately chokes on his coffee.

“Barton?” Natasha’s voice is sharp, her suspicious gaze snapping to him. Steve looks concerned. Clint, on the other hand, is malfunctioning. He quickly locks his phone, pressing it to his thigh like it’s burning him. “Yep. All good. Just… wrong text thread. You know how it is.”

The second he’s alone, he whistles, rubbing a hand down his face before sending a text: You are absolutely trying to kill me, aren’t you? I’m a trained marksman, babe. You know I always hit my target. Hope you’re ready.

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

Natasha Romanoff is a professional. She’s endured psychological conditioning, trained with the deadliest assassins in the world, and can lie so well that even she forgets what’s real. But when you send her something so utterly filthy, in the middle of a high-stakes poker game with some very dangerous people—she nearly loses her composure.

She’s holding a perfect poker face, one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette between her fingers (purely for effect). Then, her phone buzzes. She never checks her phone during missions, but for some reason, she does this time.

The second she sees the image, her fingers twitch. She almost fumbles her cigarette. Almost. A single slow breath is all that betrays her before she locks the screen and smirks, adjusting her sunglasses to hide the flicker of heat in her gaze.

Later, after she’s won the game (because of course she has), she finally responds: You must be very confident, sending me something like that. I hope you know what happens when I catch my prey, моя любовь (my love). Because I always catch them.

Bucky Barnes aka. Winter Soldier

Bucky is already always on edge. He spent decades being controlled, his mind fractured, his instincts constantly telling him that danger lurks around every corner. But when his phone vibrates in the middle of a mission briefing and he makes the mistake of checking it—he nearly self-destructs.

He’s sitting next to Sam Wilson, arms crossed, trying to focus on the tactical discussion. Then, out of habit, he glances at his phone. And suddenly? His enhanced heartbeat spikes. His grip on the phone tightens, metal fingers creaking.

Sam immediately notices. “Dude. You okay?” Bucky doesn’t answer. He just exhales deeply, jaw clenching, and locks his phone like it’s personally offended him. “Fine,” he mutters, but the way his throat bobs betrays him.

Later, in the privacy of his room, he leans against the wall, pressing his flesh hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, he types—slow, deliberate, full of promise: You are playing with fire, doll. And you know I don’t burn alone.

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

Matt has learned to control himself. He has to, considering his senses pick up everything. The heartbeat of a liar, the scent of blood, the whisper of fabric against skin. But when he puts in his earpiece during a stakeout with Elektra and hears you—sultry, teasing, wicked—his composure shatters.

Your voice is a purr, warm and full of amusement, as you describe, in explicit detail, exactly what you want to do to him. Every syllable slides into his ear like a sin, and for the first time in years, Matt Murdock forgets how to breathe.

“Murdock.” Elektra’s voice is unimpressed. “Are you even listening?” Matt clenches his jaw, forcing his expression into something neutral as he slowly removes the earpiece. “Yeah,” he lies, his voice way too tight. “Loud and clear.” But his fingers twitch, betraying him.

Later, alone in his apartment, he plays the message again. And again. Until his own heartbeat is thunderous in his ears. Then, with a slow smirk, he records his reply—his voice low, gravelly, barely more than a rasp: Angel, you have no idea what you’ve just done. And I promise—you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

Frank Castle does not fluster. He’s a man who’s seen the worst of the world, a soldier who has lost everything. He does not get distracted. But when he’s sitting in the middle of a grimy bar, brooding over a whiskey, and his phone vibrates—everything stops.

He checks it absently, expecting intel from Micro or maybe a warning from Daredevil. But instead, he gets you. And just like that, his grip on the glass tightens. His jaw locks. His entire body tenses, muscles coiled, because you have just sent him something so utterly indecent that he has to set his whiskey down before he crushes the glass.

The bartender notices. “You good, man?” Frank barely glances up, his fingers white-knuckled around his phone. “Fine,” he mutters, voice rough. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and downs the rest of his drink in one go.

Later, in the dead of night, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face, before sending a single message: You think you’re real cute, huh? Yeah. Keep that same energy when I get home. See if you’re still smirking when I’ve got my hands on you.

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

Marc has lived multiple lives. A mercenary. A vigilante. A fist of vengeance. But the moment his phone vibrates in the middle of a stakeout, and he sees you—he nearly blows his own cover.

He’s perched on a rooftop, watching a weapons deal go down, his mind sharp and focused. Then, out of habit, he checks his phone. His breath hitches. His grip tightens around the device, and he has to physically restrain himself from groaning. Khonshu’s voice rumbles in his mind: "Your mortal desires are distracting, Spector." Marc grits his teeth. "Yeah, no shit."

“Something wrong?” Jake’s voice purrs from inside his head, amused. “She send you something nice, hermano?” Marc rolls his eyes, exhaling sharply before locking his phone. “Mind your damn business.” But his pulse is thundering.

Later, back at his apartment, he leans against the wall, staring at the image before typing: You have no idea what you’ve just done. Hope you’re home. Hope you’re ready.

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

Johnny Storm is used to attention. He thrives on it. He’s a celebrity, a hero, a walking flame. But when you send him something scandalous in the middle of a live television interview, even he isn’t ready for it.

He’s laughing, flashing his signature cocky grin at the camera, when his phone buzzes. He checks it without thinking—because hey, it might be Sue yelling at him again—but instead, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

Johnny visibly chokes. His entire body tenses. For the first time ever, he forgets what he was saying. The interviewer blinks. “Uh… Johnny?” His brain short-circuits. His face heats—literally. The tips of his ears ignite before he clenches his fists and forces himself to not spontaneously combust on live television.

The second the interview is over, he’s sprinting to his dressing room, slamming the door shut and typing frantically: Ohhh, you are in trouble. You’re really trying to set me on fire, huh? Hope you’re home, babe, ‘cause I’m flying over. Right. Now.

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

Reed Richards is a genius. His mind is constantly working at speeds beyond human comprehension. But when he’s mid-lecture at a prestigious scientific conference and his phone vibrates—his brilliant mind suddenly goes blank.

He absently checks his phone, half-expecting an alert from the Baxter Building. But instead, it’s you. Wearing almost nothing.

For a solid ten seconds, he is frozen. His eyes slightly widen. His fingers twitch. And then, very slowly, he locks his phone and clears his throat. “Ah—excuse me, esteemed colleagues, but I must—um—attend to an urgent matter.”

Later, he adjusts his glasses, staring at the image with a fascinated, almost scientific appreciation. Then, with methodical precision, he types: You are a very distracting woman. I will be conducting an… in-depth study on you as soon as I return. Expect a thorough examination.

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

Felicia Hardy is a master of seduction. She flusters men for fun. But when she’s in the middle of a high-stakes casino heist, and you send her something utterly indecent, even she loses her composure.

She’s leaning against the bar, sipping an expensive martini, eyes locked on her mark. Then, her phone buzzes. She lazily checks it, expecting an update from her crew. But instead? Instead, she sees you.

Her eyelashes flutter. Her lips part just slightly. And for the first time in years, her poker face cracks. The bartender—oblivious—raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay, miss?” Felicia exhales, smirking as she locks her phone. “Oh, it’s better than okay.”

Later, she lounges on silk sheets, staring at the picture before purring into her phone: You really think you can tease me, kitten? Oh, sweetheart… you just made a very expensive bet. And I never lose.

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

Stephen Strange is not easily shaken. He’s fought cosmic horrors, bent reality, and wielded power beyond mortal comprehension. But when he’s in the middle of a magical duel with Dormammu, and you send him a sinfully explicit picture—he almost loses.

He’s mid-incantation, floating above the Sanctum’s rooftop, when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it—except something in the back of his mind tells him it’s you. He flicks his fingers, glancing at the screen—and immediately regrets it.

His spell stutters. His fingers twitch. The fabric of reality briefly warps. Wong, standing below, yells, “What the hell was that?!” Stephen clenches his jaw, locking his phone immediately before snapping his wrist and repairing the timeline. “Nothing,” he mutters. “Absolutely nothing.”

The moment the battle is over, he retreats into his study, loosening his Cloak, before typing: You dare distract the Sorcerer Supreme? You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed, darling. And I do hope you’re prepared for consequences beyond mortal comprehension.

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

Namor is a king. He does not answer to anyone. He has waged war against the surface world, stood against the mightiest heroes, and commands the loyalty of an entire empire. But when he is seated on his throne, discussing politics with his council, and his communicator vibrates—everything else becomes irrelevant.

He glances down, expecting a diplomatic missive. Instead, he is greeted by you—a vision of temptation, captured in a way that only he has the privilege to see. His grip on the communicator tightens, his lips parting slightly. The light of the display reflects in his dark, narrowed eyes.

The council drones on, but Namor hears nothing. His golden gauntlets flex, his knuckles tightening as his jaw sets. A slow, deliberate exhale is all that betrays his reaction. But those closest to him—his most trusted generals—see the flicker of something dangerous in his expression. A storm, barely contained.

Later, as he stands upon his balcony, overlooking the endless ocean, he types a single response: You seek to tempt a king, my love? Then be prepared for the wrath of a god. When next we meet, you will drown in my devotion.

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

Johnny Blaze has seen Hell—literally. He has ridden across the desolate highways of damnation, stared into the abyss, and laughed. But when he’s sitting in a biker bar, nursing a whiskey and half-listening to some guy ramble about the Devil, his phone vibrates. And when he checks it—he nearly sets the whole place on fire.

The image of you is burned into his mind, seared into his soul. He sucks in a slow breath through his teeth, his fingers tightening around the glass. His knuckles go white. Somewhere deep inside, the Spirit of Vengeance chuckles.

“Something wrong, Blaze?” One of the other bikers eyes him warily. Johnny forces a smirk, setting his whiskey down before he crushes the glass in his grip. “Nah,” he rasps, his voice a little too rough. “Just realized I got… unfinished business to take care of.”

Later, on his Hellfire-coated bike, he sends a text: You got a real bad habit of making me wanna sin, sweetheart. And I promise—I’ll make sure you repent. Over. And over.

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

Eddie Brock has been through hell. He’s fought monsters, been one himself, lost everything, and still kept going. But nothing—not a damn thing—could prepare him for the absolute carnage of getting that picture from you in the middle of a crowded subway.

He’s scrolling through his phone absentmindedly, Venom muttering in his head about wanting tater tots, when the image loads. For a solid five seconds, he is completely still. Then—

“Eddie.” Venom’s voice rumbles, amused. “Your mate is very… bold. We approve.” Eddie, red-faced, slams his phone against his chest like that’ll somehow erase what just happened. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, eyes darting around to make sure no one saw. A teenager across from him raises an eyebrow.

Later, when he’s alone, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. A slow, predatory grin spreads across his face as he types back: Oh, you think you’re being cute, huh? Yeah. Just wait till I get my hands on you. Hell, maybe we’ll even let Venom have a little fun, too.

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

T’Challa is a king, a warrior, a legend. His mind is a fortress, his will unshakable. But when he is seated in the royal palace of Wakanda, surrounded by dignitaries, and his Kimoyo Beads alert him to a personal message—his focus wavers.

He allows himself a discreet glance. And in that moment? His heart skips a single beat. His fingers—steady even in the heat of battle—tighten just slightly around his beads. His expression does not change. But to those who know him well—Okoye, Shuri—they notice the subtlest flicker of something dangerous in his eyes.

Shuri smirks. “Brother,” she murmurs, leaning in. “You look… distracted.” T’Challa exhales deeply, locking the message with a casual flick of his fingers. “I am merely… anticipating a conversation.”

Later, when he is alone, he reviews the picture once more, fingers grazing his jaw before he types: You are testing my patience, beloved. And you know I am a man of great discipline. But for you? I am willing to break my own rules. Expect me soon.

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

Elektra Natchios does not fluster. She has slit the throats of kings, danced on the edge of oblivion, and played cat-and-mouse with death itself. But when she is sharpening her sai on the rooftop of a New York high-rise and her phone buzzes—her grip falters.

The blade nicks her glove. Barely. But it happens. Her lips part in a slow, dangerous smirk as she tilts the phone toward the moonlight, drinking in the absolute audacity of your message.

“Something amusing?” A voice—a rival assassin, lurking in the shadows. Elektra does not answer. She merely tucks her phone away, standing smoothly, her stance lethal. “Yes,” she purrs. “Something… very amusing.”

Later, as she leans against the window of her penthouse, she finally sends a reply: You are so very reckless, my love. And I do enjoy breaking reckless little things.

416 notes · View notes

divineturtle · 3 days ago

Text

Bothers me when I'm reading a fanfic and they make Doctor Leonard "Bones" McCoy just like. A mean asshole? MY Doctor McCoy introduced Spock to baby talk. MY Doctor McCoy bounces on his toes and has a smile bright as the sun. MY Doctor McCoy knocked Kirk *and* Spock out with a hypo to sacrifice himself for them even though the aliens said he was almost for sure going to die, and the other two would probably live. MY Doctor McCoy was like, hey, sure Spock committed mutiny, but do we really gotta arrest him? Yeah he's grumpy sometimes, but have you considered the fact that he's stuck on a ship in Space with two assholes that literally never listen?

I just watched the Abraham Lincoln episode and I stg it's a miracle McCoy isn't actually a huge asshole, because wym "this planet WAS deadly but Abraham Lincoln says it's cool so we're going" "hey, don't do that, you could beam down into lava and literally DIE" "Ugh shut UP McCoy we're following Abraham Lincoln onto the Lava Planet That WAS ENTIRELY LAVA until two minutes ago" dude I'd be swinging at a mfer. Especially if I was their doctor knowing it was going to be my job to sew them back together. They're absolute menaces to him and he still loves them and is willing to die for them every other episode.

And I don't ever want to see another "ahh he hates Spock" when he so obviously does not. In the last episode, he wasn't even sure that Kirk and Janice had swapped bodies and yet again, he was ready to commit mutiny with Spock and Scotty (why does Spock love mutiny? 🤨) He does like to rib Spock and get reactions out of him, but Spock likes to do it to McCoy just as much. He's been around humans his ENTIRE life, his mom is a human, he's half human, "I have no idea what you mean, Doctor, I'm just a simple little logic machine," you cannot convince me it's not a game.

And every time I feel like McCoy is being hurtful for actually no reason, the next scene is Spock taking action because of whatever McCoy had said and allowing himself to tap into that human part of him. He has a way of speaking Spock. It's not always nice but it's a way that gets through. Do you think asking Spock to use his Vulcan powers to permanently alter his friend and captain's memory so he forgets his grief over this chick he fell desperately for and then also she died in the span of like four hours is a great idea? No, he'd probably have some moral or logical issues with that. but just speech at him about love and feelings and stuff, throw something in there about how great it'd be if he could just forget, and he'll do it himself.

ANOTHER THING. When he's an asshole, he apologizes. He's not an asshole often, but when he is, he apologizes. Leonard McCoy is a lot of things, but he's not really a dick.

I think he deserves to be represented for the guy he is. He has SO many nice and good moments, he's just subtle about them. Remember when Kirk was like, "Bones, why didn't you tell me she was blind?" And he was like, "Idk Jim maybe because that'd be rude? Have you considered it's not your business?" REAL. Honestly, real.

This is a much longer rant than I meant for it to be and somehow I still have more I could say so imma cut myself off right here ❤️ If you read all that, thanks, you're just as weird as I am, even if you don't agree with my lil character analysis. If you didn't read all that, then you're not reading this ✨️

#leonard mccoy #leonard bones mccoy #character analysis #star trek tos #st tos #tos #doctor mccoy #fanfiction #rant post #spock #he deserves some love #I'm just so tired of him being MISUNDERSTOOD like is it on purpose #bones mccoy #bones tos #bonesposting

366 notes · View notes

natalicss · 3 days ago

Text

Like We Were In Paris II

kwon ji-yong x american pop star!reader

part one

summary: you and ji-yong have been dating for a couple years, and you’ve kept under the radar this entire time. after the gala de pièces juanes, you two attend the chanel spring-summer 2025 haute contour show. however, the two of you are starting to get tired of keeping your relationship a secret.

warnings: not proofread AT ALL! i’m way too lazy for that, sorry. celeb!reader, implied age gap (reader is mid-twenties), lots of fluff, lil bit of angst, use of y/n, i still don’t know how to use this app i feel like an elderly man using a cell phone.

word count: 4.9K

nat’s notes: hey y’all! i came back for part two AS PROMISED! this was actually very hard for me to write as i kept changing my mind about how i wanted this to go. so im sorry in advance if its not all that great LMAO. i do wanna write a lil more about american pop star reader & jiyong, maybe i’ll do some sort of head canons about them, or some stuff about their relationship early on. i’m not sure. i also tagged the people who asked to be & i will try to keep tagging people in the future (if they wanna be). anywhore, i hope that you guys enjoy this, if you don’t…sorry<3 toodles!

tag list: @infinetlyforgotten @petersasteria

After the successful Gala Des Pièces Jaunes event, you had spent the next couple days in dressing rooms. You had been invited to Chanel’s Spring-Summer 2025 Haute Couture Show. You said yes, of course, having an affinity for fashion, and never turning down the chance to be near your long-term boyfriend. You and Ji-yong had been to a couple of the same fashion shows before. It was always easy to slip by with nobody noticing your connection. Oftentimes, you two were not seated remotely near each other and are far too busy with the peers around you to sneak away.

But this last week felt particularly more difficult. Unlike in America or South Korea, where you knew the paparazzi and knew very well how to remain under the radar, the Paris press was more complicated. You and Ji-yong had to weave your way around in more secrecy than ever. Every method you could imagine. Some instances, the two of you would sneak through a back door and slide into cars to avoid the cameras. Other instances, the two of you would make separate nonchalant appearances. Ji-yong would leave the hotel first, shy and polite as he waved and greeted the people around him as he’d slip into a car and drive off to his next location. You, wearing designer clothes and sunglasses as you walked out with a big smile and a more confident approach. You’d get in your own car, sliding into the back with your security with a huff. Within moments, you’d open your phone to shoot a text to your lover.

Y/N

i didnt get to say it before you left, but you look handsome today<3

You knew it’d only be a moment before he responded.

Ji<3

Thank you, Aein, you look beautiful!

You and Ji-yong hated that you couldn’t spend this Paris trip together more. After all, you two had all of the same events, same meetings, same friends to visit, and yet you couldn’t be by his side at any of it, not in public. Part of you didn’t mind, used to the routine, but part of you was starting to grow tired. It wasn’t like two years ago, when you first started dating. At that time, Ji-yong was still on hiatus, you were working on your fourth album, and everything had to be a secret. Secret vacations, secret visits, secret dinner dates where the two of you wore silly disguises. You were good sports, making a game out of it and playing ridiculous characters to see who cracked first. But that was two years ago. He was back in the spotlight again, you had released your fifth album a few weeks ago, he was releasing his own work. You two were confident in your relationship, everyone was. What was holding you back?

There was no black and white answer. On one hand, now was the perfect time to announce to the world that their rumors of you dating a random Hollywood actor were all false. On the other hand, were you so willing to give up that last piece of privacy you did have? You weren’t worried about the hate on either side, despite knowing how fans often get if they don’t approve of their favorite celebrities' relationship.

You had been in a public relationship way before Ji-yong. It was years ago, back when you were still new to the world of fame and glamour. Every corner you turned, the cameras flashing, the wave of hate you’d received, the amount of gossip around every song you released being about them or not, their interviews for their movies always being about you. Your careers had been forced to blend due to the way people reacted. The world had taken your last relationship by storm and had seemingly strangled it with their love and adoration. The lack of privacy, individuality, and respect for the two of you had been what led to you and your last partners split. It took the two of you years before the media finally stopped associating everything either of you did together. So, understandably, part of you was worried about that happening again.

You thought about all of this as you and Ji-yong were getting ready for the day. You both had things to attend to, tomorrow being the fashion show. One last fitting, one last meeting with your teams. You were styling your hair as Ji-yong had finished getting dressed, the agreement for him to leave the hotel first still agreed on. He looked at you, and you could see the way his eyes softened as he observed your eyes. He knew everything about you, down to the way your face looked when you were deep in thought, perhaps about to drown yourself with your ability to overthink.

“Are you okay, love?” He asked, speaking in Korean first as he approached. You didn’t say anything, busy running your fingers through your hair as he quietly stepped next to you. He met your eyes in the mirror, his lips curling. “There she is.” You blushed at his words, putting your hands down as you finally turned your body to face him. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” He asks, reaching up to adjust your hair framing your face.

You didn’t know where to start. You and Ji-yong had talked about this a million times before. You two had always agreed to keep things the way they are. You weren’t sure if he was ready to change that. As he watched you get lost in your thoughts again, he tilted his head to meet your gaze. Your eyes were glossy, not all there as you already started mapping out every way the conversation could go, preparing yourself for every out come.

“Jagiya, you’re worrying me,”

You blink. It takes you a second to come back to the present, taking a deep breath as you try to explain the heavy complicated feelings in your heart. “I’ve been thinking, through this whole trip,” You subconsciously reach for his hands, looking for comfort and something to anchor you down. He lets you, his thumb running along your skin in soothing patterns. “I don’t know how much longer I want to keep us a secret.” You blurt, staring at your connected hands rather than his eyes. You were too worried about what you might find.

There’s a beat of silence. Then another. Your heart twists in anxiety, but you don’t dare to look up. Ji-yong’s breathing changes, only the slightest bit, but you notice. He stops his thumb from tracing its delicate patterns, instead letting it tap against your skin. You feel guilty. You both had so much to do today, this conversation could have waited til tonight, after the show tomorrow, or at just about any other time. You weren’t sure, but you knew this wasn’t it.

Ji-yong adjusts his posture, pulling one hand away from yours, only to bring it to your face. With the gentlest touch, he lifts your head so you finally see his eyes. They’re not angry, or frustrated, or even remotely annoyed. Instead, they’re as soft and warm as they’d always been, making your heart flutter the slightest bit. To be honest, Ji-yong had thought about this too. He’d admitted before that going public worried him. He was a celebrity, and that immediately brings its own multitudes of hardships. He knew that he’d keep any and all relationships a secret, unless the person he was with said otherwise. You had come into his life, unexpectedly, and changed his entire world in the best ways he could imagine. And here you were, the person he knew was the love of his life, staring back at him with sadness because of that very sentiment.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been feeling it too. He wanted to hold your hand down the streets of Paris, the two of you pointing out different things you loved about it, sharing kisses under streetlights. That night at the Gala, he had wanted to kiss you as soon as he was off the stage. And when you were finished performing? He wanted to part the crowd and sweep you into his arms, like he did at your own tours. But he’d been worried, worried about what people might say to you or about you. He knew how harsh they got. He knew you could handle it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to put you in that position unless you were ready.

His hand, which caresses your face with a certain level of sincerity you only ever felt from him, was soft and moved gently. He smiled, a soft gentle one that made you feel more at ease as you realized he wasn’t mad at you in any way. “It hasn’t been easy, has it?” He asks you, raising a brow. You only shake your head, lips pursed into a line. He studies your features like you’re a work of art (cause you are). “I miss every second I’m not with you. All I can think about is where you might be. If you’re smiling. If you’re anxious. If you’re laughing. If you’re thinking about me, too.” He leans in close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And then you text me, and all I can think about is how lucky I am to be with you, and how mad I am that you’re not next to me.” You nod in understanding. You’d always felt that way about him, to the point it made your heart clench.

“I love you,”

“I love you more.”

You’re blushing wildly as he kisses your lips softly. Your feelings for him being translated into simple intimate touches. You’d never experienced something like Ji-yong before. You never wanted to let that go.

When he pulls away, he’s reaching for your jacket hanging off the back of a chair. You smile at him, memorizing his face like you’d done a million times before. You slide your arms into the jacket, letting your boyfriend adjust your outfit slightly. He focuses on your hair, bringing it out form under it and framing your face. Everytime his fingers brush your skin it leaves faint tingles in their wake.

“Why don’t we talk to everyone when we get home?” He suggests, looking back at you. Your eyes widen. You search his expression. “If you’re positive, then I’m with you.”

You smiled wide. You couldn’t help it. “I’ve never been so sure of anything.” Your arms wrap around his neck, and he laughs softly as you start to kiss all over his face. “I want nothing more than to scream about how I’m dating G-Dragon.” He rolls his eyes playfully, still not used to you using his stage name after all this time.

The rest of your days went smoothly. Both of you finishing up with your work, having dinner with friends, coming back to the hotel room to spend every possible moment together. Soft laughter as you each told stories from your pasts (many you’ve already told), legs tangled together under the sheets of your bed. Small intimate touches. Fingers tracing shapes on skin. Gentle kisses. Messy hair. If possible, your eyes were certainly heart shaped every moment you looked at him.

It was hard to hide it, even now, as you sit at the Chanel show. Both of you had arrived at different times, wearing extravagant outfits. You could feel his eyes on you as you posed for the cameras. He tried to keep his composure when he knew you were near by as he did interviews. Luckily for both of you, you’ve had years of practice. You held your head high with confidence, switching your energy from your usual softer self to the person you were on stage. America’s pop star. America’s princess. The way you posed yourself elegantly, batting your full lashes and gave your most sultry looks. How was Ji-yong supposed to not look? You were sitting in your seat, looking down at your phone as a text popped up.

Ji<3

You’re the most beautiful one here

You looked across the runway, your heart skipping a beat. He was already looking at you, a knowing shy smile on his face as he kept his phone in his hand. You smiled back at him, looking back at your phone.

Y/N

Says you<3 I love you

You put your phone in your lap, looking around some more. You felt lucky you had been to so many events, most of these people you already knew one way or another. It made small talk with the people next to you flow easily. Every now and again, you’d sneak a glance at your boyfriend, who was always staring at you like you were the show itself. It was hard to hide your blushed face, keep your voice from pitching when you talked to the other celebrities, and nearly impossible not to stare right back at him.

The show itself seemed to pass by with ease. You watched thoughtfully at every piece, making mental notes of things you particularly liked and wanted to mention to your assistant later. You’d lean over to your new friend of the night, whispering about different pieces and sharing your thoughts. You could see Ji-yong completely focused on the show, his eyes studying every model with intrigue. It was clear every piece that came out was being calculated into various looks. If he thought of something that worked, he’d raise his phone and take a quick photo. You smiled every time, excited to hear what he was thinking of later.

As the show came to an end, you were talking with your team as you felt someone graze past you. You looked up to see your familiar boyfriend, smiling at you fondly. You knew there were cameras everywhere, one minor slip leading to a whirlwind of chaos and news articles. The anxiety in your chest felt tight, but you kept your cool, straightening your posture and giving him a smile.

Ji-yong looked around, as if silently piecing together something. You followed his gaze, trying to see exactly what he was looking at. To you, there was nothing particularly interesting one way or another. Some fellow stars were talking, being interviewed, or just admiring the scene. Photographers were taking photos of guests, journalists asking people various questions. To you, it looked like every other fashion show even you’d been to. To Ji-yong, it looked like an opportunity.

There were no words shared. His hand clasped around yours, and without thinking your fingers tightened around his. You blinked in surprise, looking ahead as Ji-yong started pulling you through the sea of people. You were wide-eyed as you looked around. Your teams hadn’t noticed you disappearing, but you knew that wouldn’t last long. But Ji-yong moved with purpose, walking through like this wasn’t strange or something other people should take a second glance at. You tried to mimic his confidence, but the butterflies in your stomach refused to simmer down.

In a quiet corner away from the cameras and the wandering eyes, Ji-yong finally came to a stop. You looked at him with a surprised expression. Your lipstick-painted lips parted slightly as you watched him look at you. He adjusted the tie around his neck, something he’d been doing the entire day. You looked behind you, worried who was watching, but a hand wrapping around your waist caught your attention.

His lips pressed against yours. Soft, passionate, and urgent. You squeaked in surprised against him, your hands landing on his chest as he pulled you further into the corner. Hidden away from your peers, from your teams, and from the layers of paparazzi. Your hands clutched tighter onto his jacket. His hands, which traced your body slowly, slowly lifted to grab your face with the most gentle touch. As he pulled away, you could only blink at him with big doe eyes.

“I couldn’t stand there and act like you weren’t the most beautiful thing here.” He whispers.

The words caused your heart to do flips against your ribcage. His touch seemingly brought you back to earth, his thumb gently brushing against your cheekbone. “Says you, Monsieur G-Dragon,” You tease as you run your hands over the jacket again. This time, he’s the one trying to hide the way his cheeks blush. You looked at the bow tie with the flower on it, tilting your head as you reached up, slowly maneuvering the flower off. He looks down, blinking at it as you hold the flower in your hand, “Is that better?”

He reaches up, adjusting the tie again, and smiling softly. “Yes. Thank you.” He says finally. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know, the usual” You sigh dramatically, shrugging your shoulders. Ji-yong chuckles, nodding in understanding. “Got whisked away by a hot guy, can’t complain.”

Ji-yong raises a brow in amusement. “Is that what happened?” He asks. You look around. “What else would you call this?”

He steps closer, looking up in thought as he lets his arms wrap around your waist. His lips in a line as he tilts his head slightly. He narrows his eyes at you playfully. He didn’t have an answer. He rather liked the idea of whisking you away from the public eye. He did it often, though usually it was more hidden than this. You leaned into his touch, a natural instinct. The rest of the world seemed to drift away, even in moments like this. Only you and Ji-yong existed. Life was better with him. He knew you like the back of his hand. He knew how to make you laugh, how to calm your nerves, how to soothe your cries. He knew your favorite snacks, your order at your favorite coffee shop, and your favorite movies. The same could be said for you. You knew how to quiet his overwhelming thoughts, how to make him smile in stressful moments. You knew his favorite songs to play in the car. His favorite jewelry pieces to wear. You had his tells of when he was anxious or upset burned into your brain. And when one of you were around the other, everybody else melted into the background. Your love trumping anything else.

“We should probably get back out there,” You whisper. He hums in agreement, but neither of you make any move to leave. You lean closer into him, your head resting on his chest as his chin rested on top of your head. You knew it wouldn’t be long until the two of you were together again; a few hours at most. Lately, those hours felt like decades.

Ji-yong gave you another squeeze. “You go out first, jagiya,” He whispers. You pull away from his embrace, staring up at him. The way your glossy eyes sparkled up at him. It was like he could see every ounce of love for him you had, pouring out of you. He framed your face in his hands, kissing you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” You whispered against his lips. Reluctantly, you pulled away from his touch, looking back at him again as you walked away. He only smiled softly. Your heart yearned to stay in that corner with him forever, until your managers found you and ripped the two of you apart. You chewed the inside of your cheek, turning away from him completely as you looked for any sign of your team.

In the dark of your hotel room, you and Ji-yong were a tangled mess of bedsheets and limbs. The rest of the event blew by, you making some lame excuse to your team that you had gone to the bathroom, and Ji-yong telling his team that he was looking at some of the pieces again. You ended up having a romantic dinner together, talking about the event and the people you ran into. A quiet night with glasses of champagne and flirtatious glances.

But now, as the two of you were sleeping peacefully in your quiet room, your phones began to buzz. A violent series of notifications flooding both of your phones. You begin to stir first, rolling over slowly, pulling Ji-yongs arms off of you as you reached for your cellphone. A series of calls, texts, emails, all from your manager, publicist, assistant, even friends of yours. You blinked a few times, your eyes squinting at the bright screen as you opened up a text from your closest friend. A news article.

Unexpected Couple! Musician Y/N L/N Seen With K-Pop Idol G-Dragon at Chanel Fashion Show

You felt your heart plummet into your stomach. No, no, no. You had been so careful for so long. You scroll, your breath escaping you as you look at a photo of you and Ji-yong. His hands on your face, his lips on yours. Another photo of you looking up at him like he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen (he was, to be fair). For a moment, you just stared blankly. Your thoughts struggle to catch up as your body seems to react for you. Nausea came over you. The room suddenly felt too small. The words on the screen burned into your eyes.

You looked at the top of your phone, seeing another phone call from your manager coming in. You ignore it, reaching over to your boyfriend and shaking him. “Ji?” You whisper. When he doesn’t immediately respond, your eyes begin to water. The anxiety, the fear, the stress catching up to you. It crawls up your spine like some sort of ugly clawed fingers reaching for your throat. You shake him again, a little more harsh as you croak. “Ji-yong.”

His eyes shot open. He flinches awake, looking around the room in a momentary panic before looking at you. First, he relaxes, realizing it’s just you. Then, his tired eyes take in yours. The tears threatening to spill over, your shaking frame, your heavy breathing. He sits up now, looking you over in concern. “Aein…? What’s wrong?” As he wakes up, he hears his phone. He turns to look at it, but the whimper from your lips stops him. Slowly, you hand your phone over. Ji-yong looks at you in confusion, but takes it and looks down.

Oh.

What was once a comforting silence now felt cold. The incessant vibrations of his phone on the nightstand made your ears ring. You crawled out of bed, wearing one of Ji-yong’s shirts as pajamas. You paced the carpeted floor, running your hands through your hair. Ji-yong remained silent. He read the article. Then he reread it. Then he read it again. He looked at the photos over and over. The title. The numerous texts you were getting. For a moment, he didn’t know how to react. He sat in the bed, dumbstruck.

On one hand, part of him wanted to be relieved. The secret was out, and there was no reason to hide his love for you anymore. But this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to be on your terms. Organized by your teams. Some staged paparazzi sighting, or maybe a hard launch on your social medias. He wasn’t sure. The two of you never discussed it that far. Now there was no choice. All because he’d dragged you into his embrace in secret. A selfish moment, now on the cover of multiple articles.

Slowly, he put your phone down, putting it on silent before reaching for his own. He winced at the number of texts he was getting, reaching triple digits. He even saw texts from Taeyang and Daesung, two of the few people who knew about your relationship. But he didn’t answer anyone, turning his own phone off so he could set his attention on your pacing figure. “Jagiya,” He pulls himself out of bed, approaching you with soft eyes. You keep pacing, shaking your head as you try to sort your racing thoughts. “Jagiya, look at me,” He reaches for your hands, pulling you to face him completely. His heart ached as he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks. Your eyes wide with fear and worry. You wanted to go public. But not like this. You’d done so well at keeping your life private, and now it felt like it had been stripped away from you before you could even do it yourself. “I’m so sorry,”

His words caught you off guard. There’s a heartbeat of silence as you look at him. Your brows crinkle together as you look at him. His sad, anxious expression as he guiltily looks away. “What?” You whisper, a moment of clarity through your emotional storm.

Ji-yong swallows, looking around the room as he holds your hands tightly. Your touch being the only thing grounding him to this moment. “If we hadn’t, if I hadn’t pulled you away, they wouldn’t have seen anything.” He explains. Your eyes dance over his face as you let what he’s saying register. You shake your head. “Ji,” You coo, reaching forward to push his mint hair out of his face. He looks at you, eyes sad and guilty. “It’s not your fault. We knew that there was a risk. Since day one.” You remind him. You were right. Since you started dating two years ago, there was always the possibility the media would find out about the two of you. Both of you are major stars, with public lives (to some degree). “I just, I can’t believe it got leaked at a Chanel show.”

Ji-yong is quiet for a moment, looking over at you. “The photos are cute.” He says. You look at him in surprise. You think about the photos, how oddly scenic they were, how the photographer had captured a genuinely sweet and beautiful moment. You couldn’t help but laugh, wiping at your tears. Ji-yong cracks a smile, though the worry in his eyes still evident. Not worried for himself, no, but worry for you.

“Our managers are going to kill us.” You say, your voice weak from crying and still being tired. Ji-yong nods his head. “What are we going to do?”

He looks at you, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. “What do you want to do?” He asks you. Naturally, the two of you drift towards each other. Your arms wrap around each others frames, Your face tucked into his neck as you close your eyes. His grip on you tight, still gentle, and protective. His fingers rake through your hair as he waits. No rush for you to answer. No rush to figure out the rest of the world. He lets you simmer in his touch, your mind still racing.

You clutch onto him, not moving away from him as you start to talk. “I want you. That’s it. I want to be able to be with you. I’m not ashamed of being with you, Ji. I’m proud. So proud of you, being with you. I love you.” You feel his arms tighten around you. Slowly, you lift your head and look into his eyes. Now, they were glassy.

Ji-yong blinks away the pending tears as he sniffles. “You’re the love of my life, Y/N,” He whispers, reaching up to push your hair out of your face. You lean into his touch. “I will never be afraid to say that.”

You lean closer, kissing him softly. Your heart still pounding against your chest, your mind still a storm of fear and worry for what wrath you’d face from the media, but it didn’t matter. Not in the long run. You had Ji-yong. You loved Ji-yong more than you could ever explain to him or anyone else. And you knew that the two of you would figure it out together. You’d figure out everything together.

“Are you ready?” He asks you, looking at your phones on the bed. This was it. No more secret rendezvous. No more sneaking around. No more lying in interviews about your relationship status. Everybody knows now. There was no hiding from it now.

You smile at him, your eyes sparkling in the way he loved. You nod your head. “I’m ready,” You assure him.

And by the time the two of you would be leaving Paris, on your way back to Seoul, the entire world knew the secret you’d been keeping to yourselves. And in the early morning as you rushed out of your hotel with your security guards, you two didn’t hide from the paparazzi. Ji-yong walked with you, hand-in-hand, as you walked towards your car. The shouts of fans and cameras catch your attention. You smile and wave, blushing wildly as you realize this was real.

Ji-yong stands up straighter, his hand tightening in yours as he pulls you close. His hand releases yours, only to wrap around your waist tightly as he leads you forward. Ji-yong opens the door for you, despite the security guard reaching for it. Fans scream in awe, and you lean over quickly to press a kiss on his cheek. A weight you didn’t know was there, suddenly lifted. You beamed as Ji-yong slid into the seat next to you. His expression matched yours. Filled with love, excitement, a certain fondness and admiration. “Au revoir, Paris,” Ji-yong muttered as the car started to move. You giggled, leaning into him as you looked around the streets.

“Taeyang and Daesung will never let us hear the end of this.” You muttered, playing with Ji-yong's fingers absentmindedly. A gentle groan comes from Ji-yong, causing you to laugh again. An infinite amount of teasing and playful jokes awaited the two of you back home. Along with a million questions from friends, coworkers, the media, and who knows who else. But you were okay with that. It hadn’t been completely on your terms, but it was yours. Ji-yong was yours.

And if nothing else, it made your stories about Paris far more entertaining.

#kwon jiyong x reader #gdragon x reader #gdragon #kwon jiyong #bigbang #bigbang x reader #kpop fluff #kwon jiyong fanfic #fanfic #x reader

214 notes · View notes

takes1 · 2 days ago

Note

ur blog is so pretty...

if you are okay with it, do you have any headcanons bout what type or p0rn the Karasuno boys would watch? 🌹

what type of p*rn would the karasuno team watch?

warnings. heavy nsfw under the cut. minors DNI

characters. suga. daichi. asahi. tsukki. kageyama. hinata. nishinoya. tanaka. yamaguchi. details. lots of kink discussion - just about anything you can think of

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. my imagines. requests open.

suga९᠀ - likes a good storyline video. loves a bad one. shitty acting gets him laughing, and he needs every chance he can get to feel as though he isn't sinning. won't say no to an amateur flick, but he likes the structure of 4k videos, and is a suuuucker for the 'oiled up' aesthetic.

asahi९᠀ - buddy has a rampant size kink that doesn't get much of an outlet. downside: most videos that cater to this are not what he wants, because of the unavoidable infantilization in most of them. so he opts for amateur vids with bigger guys turning out their smaller girlfriends, wives; extra props if there's some real, organic dirty talk, or if it happens to be super low-quality.

daichi९᠀ - has no shame about his oral fixation. face fucking. deepthroat. he's got any video with some lucky dude getting good head memorized by the title and the preview. his favorites are either: when the guy stays hands-off and silent, or when she takes a load down her throat. not much in between.

tsukishima ९᠀ - is a filthy animal with a porn addiction. will watch/has watched just about everything under the sun. he had a bukkake faze, a gangbang faze, but is now proudly serving his bdsm faze with specific interest in femdoms. shiny, black heels get him hard in an instant. has done the tried-and-true bdsm questionnaire in his spare time and does heaps of research on the community, usually as a pregame to jerking off.

kageyama ९᠀ - no particular preferences. but if he's got a crush on somebody, he will strictly watch lookalikes. it wasn't a conscious habit at first, but after the third time it happened, he couldn't articulate any other reason to look up seven descriptors in the search bar and get 0 results. how well/quickly he gets off is based on how well the actor or subject looks his crush. it's a long endeavor, too. he edges for as long as he can, and almost always does it twice.

hinata ९᠀ - can't watch porn long enough to build any strong preferences. has sensitivity/premature ejaculation issues, so he tends to just listen to whatever video he landed on. this has opened more of a pipeline to nsfw audios, instead. loves the sound of two bodies coming together, especially all the little pants and huffs in a video that aren't faked. has gotten insanely good at being able to tell if it's fake, too.

nishinoya ९᠀ - doesn't watch videos; similar problem to hinata. instead, yuu buys physical hentai novels. big fan of monster-fucking. tentacle stuff is a staple in his readable porn. he guards his collection with his life and would sooner lose a limb than have anybody go near the shelf that he keeps them hidden behind. once, asahi stood too close during a sleepover and -naturally- yuu bit him as a distraction, just to get him away from the area.

tanaka ९᠀ - wlw videos. solo-girl vids. he can't stand to watch something with a guy in it. it's huge turn-off, especially when the dude is too loud, or in the way, too soft, or straight-up ugly. learned to love the slow, women-catered stuff that's 40 minutes long and has plot to follow. also picked up a lot of tongue tricks from these vids, too. (congrats, kiyoko!)

yamaguchi ९᠀ - mmf threesomes. i think ya'll know what i'm getting at, here. either he 1: is poly and doesn't know it, 2: is gay and doesn't know it, 3: is genuinely very enticed by the idea of overstimulating a gorgeous girl, OR 4: can't see himself as enough for a potential partner, and this might be a subconscious way of evading that insecurity.

notes. i'm very sorry to any who were looking for ennoshita, kinoshita, or narita. i tried, but genuinely couldn't get anything going for any of them. they all seem like nice guys, but there's no material that i can properly make nasty.

taglist. @integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

links. my masterlist. requests open.

293 notes · View notes

kaivenom · 1 day ago

Note

Since February 9th is my birthday I got an idea, how about what one piece dilfs do on your birthday?

What the OP Dilfs do on your birthday

Characters: Doflamingo, Mihawk, Crocodile, Smoker, Shanks

A/N: oowwwww, happy birthdayyyy, i am so glad that you asked me for this.

Masterlist

Dracule Mihawk

He prefers a rather small event, just him and you, maybe Perona and even Zoro if he can.

But if you want a party with other people, then he would try to tolerate other peoples presence.

Picture this: the backyard of your families house, all with balloons, food and all your relatives from all ages.

Then Mihawk with a glass of wine having to stand children and annoying aunts.

When you didn't found him anywhere, you searched for him and found him with your grandma (or another old female relative) gossiping.

When you left the house and finally are alone, he finally gave you your gift... probably jewelry.

Donquixote Doflamingo

He doesn't make it an official holiday but every one takes it like that cause there is a parade all over the city.

Like a Valentine's day 2.0

Privately he does a big feast on the castle and it's the only time you got to sit on the throne (and not his lap).

Like he says "You are the queen for the day"

He even orders some people to do humilliating things to make you laugh, but you have to stop him and reassure him that you just need to be with him on the moment.

Every one of the crew was invited to the party which means that Doflamingo ordered them the exact gift they have to get you, so you can have everything you want.

Baby 5 told you his plan so you went to thank him for the party and for being so sweet and lovely, at least for your special day.

Sr. Crocodile

A surprise trip, to anywhere you want like... you woke up and he asked you were you wanted to go, you said and hours later there you are.

You went to all the sites you wanted and he even ordered some fireworks for midnight.

He reserved on your favourite restaurant and he even "asked" (he literally threatened their families) to do your favourite cake.

Of course, all the things you've been wanting since christmas, he got them from you.

In the case the trip couldn't be made cause you already had plans with friends and family, expect him to celebrate before you go and wait for you to continue celebrating.

He understands that you can share your time with other people and he won't interfere but he absolutely would use all the other time you had.

Quality time and gifts are his love language so expect that a lot.

Smoker

You both go a day out at work for personal affairs.

He mades you breakfast and put it on the bed, this day, you are the only thing on his life.

You do everything you want this day: a picnic? done, a fancy restaurant? movies and popcorn?

All of it? also yes.

He even tries to cook himself a birthday cake but the attend gets so bad that you had to help him.

He is reticent about it but when you suggested him that this is the perfect couple birthday activity, he accepted.

The ussual movie flour fight type of thing, but you ended up doing the dessert and you finally made your wish.

But there is no better wish than to have spent the day with him.

Akagami Shanks

You are free from all your responsabilities on the ship.

You are the first to be served on lunch and everyone left you alone to be at peace.

More than that the day went awfully normal, even with Shanks, you started to even feel crazy cause nobody even said "good birthday" but they clearly know due to their behaviour.

Then Shanks ordered to arrive on an island without warning, was almost night so you decided to go to your room, a little sad about the day.

So, half an hour later, Shanks lifted you up and forced you outside, to the night, and you saw how they had prepared a surprise party.

You almost slapped all of them for the secretism but you know you have a soft spot for these idiots.

Food, alcohol and cake passed among everyone and lasted all night.

Shanks took the moment when they all were drunk to be more affectionate and attentive with you, showing you how much love he was acumulating all day for the brithday girl

156 notes · View notes

mushhroooms · 2 days ago

Text

Day 1. Oviposition w/ Neuvillette

A/N: This is probably the most unhinged thing out of everything I’ve ever written. Also probably OOC since the last time I was into Genshin was the multiple Albedo incident and Scara being revealed as Wanderer so I’m going off fics and what little I know of his character😭

I hope this is good :(

A/N #2: I’m so sorry this took forever to release. I've had a lot of stuff going on with my mental health and school. I’m trying to do it as fast as possible without rushing the fics!

Word count: 4.7k

Reader: The reader is gender neutral but has afab anatomy but other than that the reader’s body is not described!

This fic includes consent checks because consent is sexy❣️

Warnings: blood, branding, belly bulging, biting & marking, Breeding, collar & leash, dacryphilia, slight dumbification, blood mentions, master/pet, slapping (not the face though), soft sadist Neuvillette, possessive Neuvillette, soft dom Neuvillette, dom Neuvillette. Neuvillette goes feral, monster fucking (He’s a dragon so…), double penetration, overstim, oviposition, rut/heat cycles.

If I missed anything please let me know!

2/10 - Did a little edit to fix some parts that felt rushed!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Please-” you go to plead with your husband, who seems to be in a very bad mood today.

“Did I say you could speak?” he snaps, voice filled with a venom that you’ve never heard from him before.

“What’s gotten into you!? I can’t even just speak to Wriothesley now!?” You shout, your own irritation growing.

Your husband was never like this, never possessive, never jealous... This was all new and out of character for him and it worried you.

“I don’t like it! The way you were so close to each other!” He turns, and for a second you swear his pupils are more slitted than ever. “His scent on you” Disgust is in his tone.

Your shoulders droop, anger fading more into worry “What is going on, Neuvillette? You’ve never acted like this before.” Your eyes search his as he stares at you sitting on the edge of the bed from across the room. There’s something different, something primal in his eyes.

He calms down a bit, but you can tell he’s still angry by the look on his face, a frown, eyes seemingly glaring, his eyebrows furrowed. “I just don’t like what I sensed between you two.”

You get up and walk over to him, the gaze in his eyes makes you feel like… prey, nearly feral.

You look into his eyes as you stand before him “Neuvillette. You know there is nothing between me and Wriothesley, he’s just someone for me to talk to when you're busy. I love you.”

He calms fully, his shoulders fall as he calms down a bit, your hands cup his cheeks and your thumbs stroking his skin. “I… I know, I…”

“Hm?” You hum as he stops talking, not finishing his sentence.

“I can’t say I don’t know what came over me because that would be a lie.” He frowns

“Then tell me the truth, it’s ok.”

“It’s just… I want you all to myself. Forever.”

“And you have me.” Your voice is hushed.

“But, I-I want you more deeply, I want to know if anybody sees you they’ll know you belong to me. I want to mark you and… Archons, I just want to claim you in every possible way.” His voice comes as a bit of a growl and his hands grip your arms, pulling you closer and holding you in place.

His words and tone send shivers straight down your spine and to your core, you can feel it, the bulge in his pants against your thigh.

“Neuv-”

“I want you, I want you so badly” His breath is heavy and his hands grip your arms tighter. “I want to mark you up, I want to make you mine over and over again, I want to own you,” he growls and you feel the knee-weakening spark of arousal in your lower region at his words.

“Neuvillette-”

“My rut, it’s come, I can’t control myself- I-” He pulls you closer, against his body as he wraps his arms around you.

“Then take me.”

“W-What?”

“If you want me, then take me.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Beloved.” His voice shakes “You can’t say things like that during my-”

“I know” His hands grope your hips “But I mean it. You’re my husband. I want to help you.” “You… you can’t. I could hurt you.”

You’ve had sex together before, yes, so you’re aware of his… physique… but he has a point, you and Neuvillette have never spent a rut together, it’s the first one he’s had since you two have been married, and you have no clue on what to expect.

“I trust you” The words leave your mouth before you begin to think about what he may even do to you because it’s true, you trust him with your life.

His eyes widen a bit, the feral look in his eyes growing, and he growls “Love. I- You can’t possibly begin to imagine the things I want to do to you.”

“Then show me.”

He lets out a heavy breath before slamming his lips onto yours, your words spurring on his maddening lust. The kiss is rough and messy, and his hands roam and grope your body, like a wild man. “My love” He groans “I’m going to ruin you.”

He pushes you onto the bed and pulls away from the kiss, he looks down at you, pupils slit in lust, his breath hot and heavy as it fans your face “Do you mean it? You’ll let me do what I want?”

“Yes,” You whisper out breathlessly “I really trust you.”

The air falls silent as he pants, his hands gripping the sheets next to your head before he whispers out a small ‘fuck.’

“Strip” He demands.

He gets off you, peeling off his coat and shirt, before walking over to the fireplace, you sit up and begin to peel off your clothes, trying to figure out what he is doing. He’s holding a metal rod into the fire and your curiosity peaks “What are you doing?”

“I am going to brand you.” Your eyes widen at his blunt response, but your thighs instinctively press together as your cunt throbs, and he sees it in his peripheral vision, he smirks, feeling himself get even harder inside his pants.

“Everybody will know exactly who you belong to just by looking at you.” He begins to walk over, metal rod in hand, the shape on the end glowing with the sizzling metal.

“Turn around.” He orders and who are you to disobey your husband? You turn around on the bed, sitting on your knees, looking down at your hands clasped tightly together in your lap, waiting for the burn, for the pain. He places a hand on your shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze. “This won’t hurt too much, my love”

He leans in, placing soft kisses on the back of your neck before pressing the burning metal to the flesh of your back. You cry as you feel your skin begin to sizzle, he shushes you “I know beloved, just a bit more.” His voice is softer as he comforts you. You tremble, your skin burning as the metal shape steals the spot of your flesh. He kisses and nips the back of your neck and shoulders as he holds the brand to your flesh. You feel your flesh give way, molding to the shape, and you can only guess from feeling that it’s a dragon. But who knows? Your mind is blinded by the burning pain.

He pulls away the metal rod and from you. The comforting weight of his body, breath, and warmth disappear, leaving you to sob as your flesh stings in searing hot pain. You can distantly hear the metal being placed and some drawers open before his weight returns to you, his thighs encasing yours as he holds you from behind.

“Shhh… I know, Darling. You did so well for me.” He whispers, you can feel his erection pressing against your rear as he leans close to you, his arms drooping around your shoulders, kissing up and down the side of your neck. “So good.” He purrs before sinking his teeth into the nape of your neck, and you cry out sharply as his sharp teeth break through your skin, hands flying to claw at his forearm meekly. He growls at the sweet nectar of your blood on his tongue, his forked tongue lapping up every droplet of blood, his hands squeezing your hips as he grinds against your ass. “Do you know how pretty you are when you cry? When those big tears roll down your cheeks from those pretty eyes?”

He hums as his hands caress your hips before he presses his gloved fingers against your still-aching brand mark, smirking as you cry out, your voice cracking and breaking in pain. “So fucking pretty” He growls, his hand gripping your hips roughly as he presses his fingers against the mark, enjoying every single little whimper, whine, and cry of pain you let out. He pulls away, looking at the violent red brand mark and the sweet bubbles of blood on the wound from his teeth.

He grabs the cloth and alcohol that he had grabbed from the drawers, pouring some alcohol onto the cloth before pressing it to the brand mark, to keep it clean for now, you let out a tiny sob at the sting of the alcohol. “It’s ok, beloved.” he gives you a gentle kiss on the side of your neck, before he removes the cloth, flipping it over and putting alcohol on that side, before pressing it to the mark on the nape of your neck, and you whimper and flinch. He kisses your hair as he pulls the cloth away, hands going back to your hips, while he grinds against your ass again, making you whimper.

“You’ve done so good for me so far, but I am far from done with you.” He groans “On my lap.” He orders and you turn, slowly crawling onto his lap. Your hands are holding onto his shoulders as you look into his eyes. You sniffle and he smirks, his hands cupping your cheeks and using his thumbs to wipe your tears. He leans in to kiss your cheeks “So pretty” He whispers.

“How about you close your eyes for me, Sweetheart?” His thumb strokes your cheek, and your eyes flutter shut, “Good, so good for me.” His hands pull away from your face and a few seconds later you feel something start to enclose around your neck, velvety and thick, a soft ‘clip’ hits your ears as what you presume is a collar finally closes around your neck, snugly but not tight enough to cut off your lack of air. A small tug jerks your upper body forward.

“Open your eyes.” He says his previous ferality in his tone returning. Your eyes peek open softly, seeing the dark blue velvety leash wrapped around his hand. “How does that feel, pet? Good?” He tugs again, a little rougher this time, making sure the collar won’t hurt you. You can feel his hard-on straining in his pants against your bare cunt.

He smirks and tugs again “Grind down onto me, pet.” He orders, and who are you to disobey him?

Your hips press down, and the rough fabric of his pants against your clit makes you whimper, “Neuvill-” Your moan is interrupted as you cry out when his hand harshly slaps your thigh, leaving a red mark in its wake.

“No, no,” He tugs the leash hasher, making you fold, your hands resting on the bed beside his hips as you grind your aching cunt down onto his clothed erection. “What’s my name, pet?” He emphasizes your title in his question, making sure you know your place.

“Master” You whine, your hips speeding up as your stomach begins to burn with the build of your orgasm, fuck, were you really that close already?

“Good, very good” He coos, his voice thick with lust and pleasure as you grind against the bulge in his pants, leaning in, he buries his face into the crook of your neck, biting into your shoulder, ears soaking in every sound of your pleasure. “You gonna cum?” He hums into your skin as he takes in your scent. Your whimpers and moans seem never-ending as you grind against him, the neediness in your movements is a big give away and you would be ashamed in any other situation if his hand weren’t on your hip helping you.

“Cum on me” He whispers, taking another bite, softer this time, into the side of your neck, You feel your cunt clench, and your clit throb, so close, so so close.

“Master- Master, please-” You cry out as you cum, hips stuttering before you collapse onto him, gripping his coat, as your cunt trembles around nothing and your body shakes.

“There you go, such a good pet for Master huh?” He whispers relishing as you jolt with the aftershocks of pleasure. “Now everybody will know you belong to me…” The words are more to himself as his fingers ghost the bite marks he’s left on you. “Lean back.” The order is simple but shocks you to the core, you know what comes next.

Nonetheless, you lean back. Your hands grip his thighs to hold yourself. He peels off his gloves, never breaking eye contact as he tosses them in the direction of the foot of the bed, where both of your clothes lie, his hand gripping the leash trails down to let his fingers rub slow, precise circles on your clit, his hold tugging the leash, forcing your head down to watch as his fingers rub your hard, sensitive clit.

“Cum again, on my fingers this time.”

You pant and whimper out “But, I just came-”

“It was not a request.” He snaps, cutting you off, pinching your clit, making you jolt. “You will cum on my fingers.”

His fingers speed up and your body shakes in overstimulation, you whine as your eyes clench shut and you feel the pressure grow. “Like that pet, cum, you can do it. Cum.” He demands, his voice hushed to a whisper as his eyes bore at your closed ones. “It’s too much!” You feel every muscle in your body tense, your back arch, your breath grows shaky, and every pant comes with a tremble in your throat. Your eyes squint open, tears gathering at your lash line as you watch the muscles in his hand contract with every movement of his hand.

“Cum.” his hand gives your hip an encouraging grope as he feels your cunt clench.

You sob, your hips stutter and buck, before your back arches, pressing your body against his as your body spasms. “Shhh… Shhh, you’re ok, pet” He whispers, still rubbing circles on your clit as you orgasm, eyes rolling back into your head.

His continued ministrations make you squeal “M-Master, please!” you sob out, shaking and trembling. He pulls you into his chest, making your head rest on his shoulder as he adjusts his angle, slipping two of his fingers into you as his other hand takes place on your clit, rubbing your clit in tight circles while nimble fingers start to spread out your cunt, scissoring, and curling inside of you.

You feel like you’re about to explode, the corners of your vision start to blacken, you let out a choked noise, and he kisses the top of your head “C’mon, you can do it.” His tone is encouraging, despite him knowing full well the overwhelm he’s putting you through right now. “Please-” you go to plead, it feels good, but it's also too much “Do it, pet.” He orders, you practically feel your body tick with each jolt of pleasure, each thrust of his fingers hitting your G-spot, each rub on your clit. “I’ve got you, pet. Now, cum.”

Your hips buck wildly and you cry as your cunt spasms “Master! Master!”

Your juices soak his hand and forearm as you squirt, eyes squeezing shut, body shaking, and tears streaming down your face. “There you go, pet, so good for me.” He praises, his fingers still inside you and his rubs on your clit slowly, working you through your orgasm. He places a kiss on your throat “You’re so good for me, so pretty when you cry and make a mess.’

He pulls his fingers away, letting you tremble as you come down from your high, kissing your forehead “I love you pet, so much.”

“I love you, too…” You say breathlessly, he grabs you by the hips, moving you so you lay down on the bed, under him “Are you ready, my love? This next part will get… intense." he whispers as he undoes his belt.

You nod softly, you’re overstimulated already but don’t want to disappoint and he can tell, he stops for a moment, his belt undone, and he cups your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks as his slit-pupil eyes look down at you. “My beloved, are you sure? If you are unsure about this I can stop.”

“No, I’m sure. I’m just overstimulated… I promise, I want this.” You respond softly, reassuring him, and he gives a soft smile, he moves his hands from your hips to your hands, intertwining your fingers together. “I’ll start gently, okay?” He whispers, kissing your cheek softly as he reassures you.

He untangles his fingers from yours, hands going back to his pants, undoing the button and zipper, and pulling his pants off, tossing them with the rest of both your clothes, leaving him only in his briefs, the large bulge in them nothing except intimidating. He can see the look in your eyes, the slight hesitation, he knew it was a struggle for you to take it every time you’ve both had sex.

“I’ll start gently… I know you’re overstimulated and it’s quite a stretch, but I will ensure it’s comfortable for you, okay?” He reassures you, thumbing at your thighs to comfort you. You nod and swallow when his hand pulls away from your thigh, trailing to his briefs to pull them down, you feel your breath catch in your throat, and your cunt throb, he gives you one last look, making sure you’re ok. He knows he won’t be able to stop once he’s started, when he’s buried in your warmth.

He pulls down his briefs, and the tips of his cocks slap against his abdomen, there’s pearls of pre-cum resting on the slits, the tips are flushed deeply, and they twitch when the cold air of the room hits the leaky tips. You swallow and his hands go back to hold your thighs, he pulls you closer, pulling your head from the pillows so you lay flat against the bed, he lifts your legs, putting them over his shoulders. He smooths his hands down your legs, from your ankles to the back of your thighs, pressing them to your chest as he leans over you, trapping you there with his cocks resting on your lower tummy, his fingers ghosting from the back of your thighs, over your shoulders, before cupping your cheeks. He looks into your eyes, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

He’s checking you, again, trying to find that hint of hesitation, of fear. He feels his heart skip a beat when he sees none of those. He sees the trust, the love in your eyes. He kisses the tip of your nose, before he takes his hands off your cheeks, embedding them in the bed next to your head.

He pulls his hips back, his tips rubbing against your clit as he positions himself, you whimper at the sensation, your hips subconsciously squirm to try and get more friction, he groans as he feels you rub against his cocks and finds himself grinding his hips into yours. His cocks rubbing through your slick cunt and bumping on your clit. He snarls and ruts his hips faster “You smell so good, so sweet- fuck- you feel so good-” His hands tangled in the sheets, grip tighter and you yelp when you feel the cold feel of his tail wrap around your waist. He growls as his tips catch on your entrance before slipping and bumping harshly on your clit, making you gasp. He huffs as he positions himself again, putting his force into pushing into you. His breath hitches as he feels your cunt give way to him, his flushed tips pressing into your warmth. He groans loudly as you whimper, his cocks sinking deeper into your sweet cunt.

He pants as he bottoms out inside you, claws gripping the sheets and threatening to rip them. “You feel so good my love…” he groans out again, his fang digging into his bottom lip, drawing blood. You pant as well, underneath him, your eyes threatening to roll back into your head just from him bottoming out. He chuckles, one of his hands releasing the sheets from his death grip and trailing down your body, pressing down on the bulge on your tummy. You moan shakily, the pressure making your walls tighten around him, ensuring you can feel every inch… every vein… every throb.

“Are you sure about this… my love? Once I start, I will not stop till I am satisfied.” He says breathlessly, his purple eyes piercing your very soul. “I’m sure, I want this.” You reassure him, you wanted to tell him that if you really didn’t want this, you’re cunt wouldn’t be as soaked as it is but the words left your brain with his first shallow thrust, flushed tips poking at your cervix. You gasp, and he lets out a quiet groan. His pace is slow, and shallow, trying to make sure you're ok first before he lets himself go. You grow slightly frustrated with the ever so slow pace, reaching up and cupping his face “Please, Neuvillette, I’m ready.” You whisper, and his eyes meet yours once again before he growls quietly. “I’d grab onto the sheets then.” He whispers, and before you can question what exactly he means by that, his hips are pulled back, snapping forward just as fast, stretching your walls and pounding you mercilessly into the mattress with each thrust, the bedframe creaking with a protest at the rough and fast movements, the tips of his cocks for sure to be bruising your cervix, your sure tomorrow you won’t be able to walk, but right now that’s the last thing on your mind. His claws had already ripped through the sheets next to your head, your own hands digging into the sheets.

“You feel so fucking good- so fucking good for me.” He growls out, his eyes falling shut, and his eyebrows furrowing, baring his fangs as he bites your shoulder. You feel tears well once more in your eyes, clouding your vision. A bittersweet mixture of pleasure and pain. “Neuv-Neuvillette.” You barely manage to moan out in pain between your moans and cries. Your ankles dangling uselessly over his shoulders. You’re already close again. Your eyes squeeze shut and a sob tears through your throat as you cum, his hips never once faltering as he fucks you through your orgasm. He’s focused, so incredibly focused on the way your weeping cunt sucks him in despite the rest of your body’s protests, on the way his tips are pounding against your cervix with every thrust, where he’ll plant his seed, where you will bear him children.

His pace is unrelenting, his tail wrapped around your waist tightening its hold just a bit, he pulls his fangs from your neck, forked tongue lapping up the blood. He wraps his arms around you, forcing your back to arch as he hugs you, cocks feeling like they’re pounding into your sensitive cunt even deeper. You sob, your arms wrapping around his neck, nails clawing at his back, your bleary eyes seeing your ankles dangling over his shoulders and your ears ringing with the sound of skin slapping and the wet squelching of your poor pussy. “Neuvillette! Neuvillette!” You cry out.

“So good for me, so good.” He growls, his arms tightening around you. He’s starting to get close, he can feel his cocks throb inside your warm cunt. “I’m gonna cum, I want to cum inside you, please. I want to give you my eggs.” He practically whines, despite the fact he was growling just seconds ago. The thought of planting his eggs deep inside your womb, having your belly grow round and your body plump as they grow inside you, drives him crazy. Your thighs shake as you feel your upcoming orgasm. The thought of him laying his eggs in you is both exciting and terrifying. Will they fit? When they grow will you even be able to birth them?

Logic and worry go out the window as he angles his hips, the tips of his cocks pounding against your g-spot with every snap of his hips, you feel the pressure growing, and he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his forked tongue caressing the bud as he suckles. His claws dig into your skin threatening to break your skin from his death grip, his arms wrapped around you not even allowing you to squirm away by as much as an inch.

“Neuvillette! Cumming! M’ cumming!” He pulls away from your nipple, leaving the bud sore, his hips moving faster “Cum. Cum for me.” He demands. You feel your orgasm crash into you like a freight train; your legs tremble as you squirt again. Your eyes roll back into your head as you soak his pelvis, your back arching even more in his hold, a wave of white crashing into you. He lets out a primal growl, his hips moving faster, pounding into you. His growls and groans and grunts grow, and his claws break your skin, droplets of blood spilling from the claw marks now adorning your sides. He grunts loudly, hips slamming in one last time before he stills, his cum pouring into you, deep into your womb. He pants, his cock pulsing and twitching with every spurt of cum into your depths, your walls milking him as your body trembles.

His hold doesn’t falter “Do you want it, love? Do you want my eggs?” He whispers down to you, your mind is foggy from overstimulation and the afterglow of your orgasms. He finally releases you, letting your body slump to lay down on your back again on the bed, caressing your cheeks as he helps you come back down to earth. “Yes.” you whisper out as your senses slowly return to you.

“Are you sure?” He asks ever so softly, making sure you are 100%. You nod, shaky hands reaching up to pull him gently down into a kiss. He kisses you with fervor, tender and soft. His hands cup your cheeks as you feel something moving up through one of his cocks, you gasp. He pushes himself deeper, his tips poking at your spongy cervix, you can feel the object trying to pry past your cervix, it stings as you feel yourself begin to open up and allow the object in and he groans lowly, the sound soft as the weight leaves him, the egg planting itself in your womb. The egg is rather large and the weight is nearly crushing, it makes you whimper as you feel the foreign object and weight. He practically purrs into the kiss, another bump moving up the length of his cocks, before planting itself in your womb alongside its sibling. You would feel embarrassed, the coil in your tummy tightening, going to cum from him laying his eggs in you, but with how fucked out your mind is can’t bring yourself to care.

“So good. Do-ing so good for me, love.” He grunts out breaking the kiss as another begins to travel, a thin string of saliva connecting your mouths still, “Last one, so good-” He mumbles, Groaning as the the final egg leaves him, snuggling in your crowded womb next to the others. Your walls twitch around his cock, and you tremble as the third egg finally settles in place, your walls spasming and milking his cocks as you cum, a sob tearing through your throat. He shushes you, running a hand through your hair.

“So good for me, my love, so full of my clutch.” He rubs your stomach, which now has a tiny but noticeable bump. His voice is soft as he brings you down from your intense high. Your body is still trembling, and he kisses a tear off your cheek. “Are you okay? How do you feel?”

“Heavy.” Is all you can manage to mumble out “No pain?” He asks softly. You shake your head. “Good. Good.” He kisses your forehead, still rubbing the bump on your stomach. You feel your eyes droop, the exhaustion from the overstimulation and intense sex taking its toll.

He kisses your forehead again “Sleep love, I’ll clean you up.” You hum in response, too tired to form words, your eyes shut and you sigh, sleeping overtaking your overworked mind, you can distantly feel the warm damp cloth cleaning bite marks and the mess between your legs, his voice is softly heard, not talking to you, no, but to your stomach, a warm smile overtakes your face and the last thing you feel being his hand caressing your bumped up tummy and kissing it before the arms of sleep wrap around you and you sink into the mattress.

#genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette smut #dragon neuvillette #monster fucker

142 notes · View notes

angelltheninth · 2 days ago

Text

Through the Eyes of an Artist

Pairing: Rafayel x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, orgasm encouragement, being watched, toy use, clit stimulation, giving instructions, masturbation, body cum shot

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

Word count: 0.7k

A/N: I'm an artist too, I would do the same.

What an honor to be Rafayel's new model. You were all he could paint lately, his only inspiration. You were fine with that, you got to pose for him, wear all kinds of outfits, sometimes no outfits, you got to spend time with him, hours upon hours as he finished his painting. He would let you choose the frame of for the picture too.

Usually there was to be as little movement from you as possible. This time was very different. Having items with you was also something that happened often. On you, not in you, not riding something.

And what's more he still refused to tell you what his subject was.

"Spread your legs more. I need to see it clearly. I know it might be more difficult to ride but I promise to give you a long, rewarding massage after." Rafayel instructed you from behind the canvas, his eyes were the only visible part of him until you did as he suggested. Your legs spread wider on either side of the smooth, purple dildo, the tip catching your clit every time you rolled down. "That's it. Keep your face forward, don't hide from me."

You bit your lower lip as he looked at you intensely, taking in every part of you. Your parted lips, flushed cheeks, your nipples stiff peaks on your breasts, your hips rolling and clit puffy for him to see.

"You still haven't told me why you... want me to do this. Aren't I supposed to be still?" Although if he were to have you sitting on the dildo for hours it might have been worse.

"Not for this. I want to capture pure lust, pleasure, bliss. And you, your face when you have an orgasm, your body tense with pleasure, there's no better subject." He waxed poetically about this but as much as you wanted to believe him part of you thought this was just an excuse to watch you fuck yourself. A clever excuse, you'll give him that much.

You felt so exposed to him. It wasn't the nudity, you've had sex before, a lot when one of his paintings would win an award, but you never did things like this in front of him. It made you vulnerable.

"Hands at your sides. Or your breasts. I need to see." He instructed again and hummed as your hands grabbed your breasts, teasing your nipples with your thumbs. "Good girl. Keep going until you finish."

It wasn't only that you finished once, but four times by the time he set the pen down.

He was quiet the whole time, focused on his craft, but you knew your moans and your whimpers had an effect on him. From how he was sitting his bulge was very visible to you.

"It's still missing something." Rafayel sighed and leaned forward, cock stirring in his pants. He looked down at it, then to you, whose body was shaking from your last orgasm, a puddle beneath you, your leg and thigh muscles burning and pussy swollen from riding the toy. "Of course. The personal touch."

You heard him shifting behind the canvas, the distinct and familiar sounds of his belt and zipper. He walked over to you, his cock fisted in his hand and stopped just out of your reach. "You want my mouth?" Your pussy clenched around the toy again and you hissed, so sensitive around it.

"No. Keep doing what you're doing. You're almost done." He wasn't referring to the painting, but also to you. Rafayel's eyes roamed your naked body. "I'll paint you." Not with a paintbrush but with his cum. Rafayel moaned your name over and over, rubbing his cock and shooting thick, long ropes of cum across your chest, face and stomach too.

Unable to hold back your tongue dipped down to lick the tip, your lips kissing it once, a loud moan silenced against it as you came for the fifth time.

"Yes! Yes, like that, hold still now!" He didn't bother to put his dick back into his pants he quickly grabbed his brush and got to putting the paint to canvas, capturing you in that one perfect moment of pleasure. No one would see this painting, no one but the two of you.

#love and deepspace x reader #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace imagines #rafayel imagines #love and deepspace headcanons #rafayel headcanons #love and deepspace smut #rafayel smut #love and deepspace fanfiction #rafayel fanfiction #lads x reader #lads imagine #lads headcanons #lads smut #lads fanfic #x female reader

141 notes · View notes

infimace-blog · 10 hours ago

Note

Keep coming back to this and thinking about the asker's perception of the Weatherlight Saga, because it's definitely not free of 'identity first' storytelling.

Tahngarth's entire plotline revolves around his identity as a minotaur, a racial characteristic in Dominaria. He's forced to question whether he's still himself, still a minotaur after Phyrexia captures and disfigures him, and the payoff for that is that a minotaur tribe starts decorating themselves after his new, distorted form when he helps rescue them from Phyrexia later on. So, you know, having identity issues during a apocalypse, like having a gender crisis during a Bolas invasion.

Mirri was discriminated against for having heterochromia, forcing her to leave her birth family. The desire to belong weighs on her so much that one of her big choices is whether to abandon her best friend and secret love for another tribe of catpeople who do respect her. It's less of a factor in her story than her doomed love for Gerrard, but, frankly, her willingness to get herself killed over a nice white boy for whom she was third-place (after Hanna and Rofellos) makes a lot more sense if if you take abandonment and isolation issues into account.

Maybe the asker didn't notice because these identity issues were put on the non-human side characters. But, you know, they were still there. They're some of my favorite parts of the Weatherlight Saga to talk about, besides the competition to become evincar and Urza's bizarre behavior. And while this happened with funny animal people, the structure is analogous to things the anti-woke crowd would hate. Tahngarth's identity issues are reminiscent of those of black people living in largely white societies. And there's a lot of people under the 'DEI' banner who've had to deal with getting kicked out of their home for being born wrong, often queer or disabled or neuroatypical people.

This is how you give characters good storylines, especially with Magic's limited ability to get the story in front of people who just play the cards. You find an aspect of themselves that they care deeply about, something fairly obvious and easy to communicate, and see how the external world impacts that. And we're still seeing that now. Chandra's putting herself through death-defying adventure in Aetherdrift because it might help her lover, and her love for her is a major part of her identity. Tone's certainly different than the lovelorn motivations of Mirri or Gerrard or Ertai over the course of the Weatherlight Saga, but it's the same building blocks.

I think more of that kind of characterization would have been beneficial for Sisay, honestly. I can't speak for Mark or Michael, but I've never really been interested in her because most of her story is about what she does rather than who she is. Gerrard bores me for similar reasons; I find it difficult to get a read on his personality besides 'heroic' and 'white savior'. It strikes me that the two greatest heroes of that era were raised and, in one case, born from Jamuraa, Dominaria's stand-in for Africa, but that never really comes up in the saga. Gerrard's background exists to give him an evil black stepbrother and the most important part of Sisay's is growing up owning the Weatherlight - I generally forget that she even fought in the Mirage Wars.

So yeah, I think anyone on the same page as the guy who asked this is not interested in getting good stories out of Magic. I'm regularly unimpressed by Magic's story output over the past decade, but I can't tolerate anybody who thinks the answer to that is 'make the characters less interesting. Shave their identities down'.

I want to speak out against the whole push towards DEI. I feel that ever since you made the push to make identity the forefront of a character it has hurt the stories you tell. Captain Sisay's race was never the focus of her character and she was a complete badass! And I fear if you did it over again Gerrard would be trans, black and disabled just because. It also cheapens the stories of world devastation when characters worry more about their gender than Bolas destroying everything.

The reason I started this blog is so we can have frank conversations about things, so please let’s talk about this.

Imagine if every time you turned on the TV or watched a movie, no one looked like you. For some of us, that’s never happened. We see ourselves constantly, so it’s hard to truly understand what not seeing yourself represented in media is like.

I do have a personal window to this experience. While I am white and male, there’s an area where I am the minority - my religion. Jews are just under two and a half percent of the US population. I have had many experiences where I’ve been in situations where everything is geared towards a group I do not belong to, and zero consideration is given that not everyone at that event is part of the majority.

You just feel invisible and like an outsider. It’s not a great feeling. And I just experience it a tiny portion of time, only things that are geared specifically towards something religious. Most minorities have this feeling all the time, whenever they’re outside their personal community.

Now imagine, after years of not seeing yourself ever, you finally see someone that looks like you, but nothing about the character rings remotely true. They don’t sound like you, they don’t act like you, the facts about their day-to-day life are just wrong. It’s clear whoever wrote the character didn’t truly understand the lived experience of the character, so the character feels fake.

You bring up Sisay. Michael Ryan and I didn’t technically create Sisay (she played a small role in the Mirage story), but we did do a lot to flesh out her character as the creators of the Weatherlight Saga. We turned her from a minor character into a major one.

And while I’m proud, in general, of our work on the Weatherlight Saga, I don’t think we did justice to Sisay as a character. Neither Michael nor I have any knowledge of what it’s like to be a black woman. Nor did we ever talk to someone who did.

And if you’re someone like us that has no knowledge of that experience, you probably didn’t notice. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.

Imagine if we made a movie about your life, and we just made everything up. We invented people you never knew, we gave you a job you never had, and we had you say things you’d never say. The movie might even be a good movie, but your response would be, but that’s not my life - that’s not me.

Now imagine we put the movie out, and people that never met you assumed that was what you were like. When people met you for the first time, they assumed things, because, you know, they’d seen the movie.

That’s what misrepresenting people does. It not only makes them feel not seen, it falsely represents them, spreading lies, often stereotypes, making people believe things about them that aren’t true.

Our move towards diversity is just us trying to better reflect the world and the people in it. We’re trying to do to everyone else what a certain portion of people get every day without ever having to think about it.

But why are we “making it the forefront of their character”? We’re not. We’re making it a part of their character. But in a world where you’re not used to ever seeing it, it feels louder than it is. Things that are a natural part of the world that you’re used to feel like the background of the story because you understand the context to it.

If a man kisses his wife before going off to a battle, that’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing a husband might do to his wife when he leaves. It’s not the forefront of his character. It’s just part of his life. But you’ve seen it hundreds of times, so it feels normal.

When someone does something that isn’t your lived experience it pulls focus. It seems like a big deal, but only because it’s new to you. It’s just as mundane a thing to that character as the man kissing his wife is to him.

Even the turn “pushing” implies that it’s unnaturally here, that we’re forcing something that naturally shouldn’t be. But why? That thing exists naturally in the real world, and it doesn’t make the real world any less. Maybe you’re less aware of it, but is making you aware of how others live their life “pushing” something on you?

How you live your life is represented constantly, everywhere. Why isn’t over-representing your experience at the expense of everyone else’s “pushing” it? Why is media only being the experience of those in power the “proper way”?

Having more depth and variety doesn’t lessen stories. It makes them deeper, more rich, more nuanced. In short, it makes them better stories. In my former life, I was a professional writer. I took a lot of writing classes. One of the truism of writing is “speaking truth leads to better stories”.

There’s another famous quote: “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” You’re used to being over-represented, so being a little less over-represented feels like something has been taken from you. But really it hasn’t. Having a better sense of the rest of the world comes with a lot of benefits.

I’ll use food as an example. Let’s say all you were ever exposed to was the food of your heritage. Yeah, that food is really good, but sometimes isn’t it nice to eat foods of other nationalities? Isn’t your life better that you have a choice? Isn’t your exposure and access to the food of other nationalities a positive in your life?

Exposure to variety is a positive. It allows you to learn about things you didn’t know, experience things things you’ve never experienced, and get a better sense of understanding of your friends and neighbors.

Our actions are not to harm anyone, and if you think that’s what we’re doing, please take a minute to actually absorb what I’m saying. You’ve spent your whole life metaphorically eating one type of food, and we’re just trying to show you how much you’ve missed out on.

And while this might not impact you directly, we’re making a whole bunch of people felt seen. We’re bringing joy. Think of it this way. We make a lot of cards. Not every card is for you. But if it makes someone else happy, if they get to include it in a deck, and it makes Magic better for them, how is it harming you that we include it? You have so many cards that you can play.

To this poster or people that share their viewpoint, the narrative that a gain for someone else is an attack on you is just not true. As I just pointed out above, you play a game all about personal choice, about players getting to choose how they play and enjoy the game. Why should life be any different than Magic?

Thanks for reading.

#mtg #the weatherlight saga

3K notes · View notes

revelboo · 2 days ago

Note

omg, your stories are so good!! Really love that you write for characters I don't usually get to see, like waspinator, the insecticons, etc. Plus you also got me interested in Sunstorm, Which is surprising cause I didn't used to give him a second thought, before. Now I'm curious about where that story is going. Can't wait to see what you do in the future!

You guys have challenged me to write for a lot of characters I’d never written before and I love it

Where I Belong Pt 12

Bluestreak x Reader

• Waking up tangled in someone else, it takes a moment to remember that Blue had never mass shifted back after telling you all of it. He’d just wrapped himself around you, grieving until he’d finally gone into recharge still clinging to you like you’re his security blanket. Now his face is jammed against your neck, one of the points of his chevron digging uncomfortably into your cheek and his knee is between your thighs, arms wrapped around you. And he’s still out, you can feel him venting against you and you don’t have the heart to wake him. Tipping your head back to try and avoid getting poked by his chevron, you listen to the hum of his internal systems.

• There’s a soft hand on his helm, arms holding him and he curls tighter against that warmth and safety. Slowly coming out of recharge without that hum of terror chasing him into alertness. Without the nightmares. “Blue, honey, I can’t breathe,” you say and he’s fully online. Head lifting, he realizes he’s wrapped around you and he awkwardly scoots back. Forcing himself to stop smothering you and to put some distance between you both when he just wants to bury his face back against you. Feel those soft hands on him telling him that he’s okay. Reassuring him. “Sleep okay?” You ask him, somehow not annoyed with him when you should be. Have every right to be.

• “Sorry. I guess I got a little clingy there.” He can’t even look you in the eye right now, too embarrassed about needing someone to hold him. Like there’s something wrong with him for it. And you wiggle closer, resting your cheek on his chassis. See his arm lift, hand hovering but not touching and you grab his wrist and firmly drag his arm down to drape over you. “You don’t have to,” he murmurs, voice small. Like he thinks he’s bothering you and it makes you more determined to stay right where you are.

• “What am I doing? You’re warm and it’s freezing in here,” you reply, relaxing against him with a yawn. Pretending that you’re not trying to comfort him, trying to help. Servos hesitantly playing with your hair, he forces himself to relax. Willing to play along if he can feel your heart beating against him, grounding him in the reality that he’s not alone anymore. Doesn’t expect you to stay. No one ever does, but wants to hang on to this feeling until you get tired with him. Until he becomes too much of a burden.

• “Thank you,” he whispers and that almost breaks your heart. Like the fact that anyone might just actually want to reach out to him, to stay beside him is unthinkable to him. Makes you want to hunt down whoever put that thought into his head and beat some sense into them. Because this sweet bot is beginning to mean the world to you and you’re determined to protect him at any cost.

#transformers x reader #bluestreak x reader #bluestreak

116 notes · View notes

grandline-fics · 3 days ago

Note

For your Valentine's Event: Single Red Rose with Benn Beckman. ❤️

DESCRIPTION: Single Red Rose- When your date goes wrong, they come to your rescue

WARNINGS: mutual pining but it all works out.

CHARACTERS: Benn Beckman

WORDS: 923

A/N: Thank you @thecrimsonacademic for this request for the Valentine's Event! I hope you like what I came up with for Beck. This is my second time writing for him so I'm still trying to get the hang of getting his personality down

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

————————

When you’d returned to the Red Force, Benn immediately noticed the extra bounce in your step and unshakable smile. His eyes always seemed to find you regardless of what was going on around him but when your mood was this good, it was impossible for him to not notice. You must have encountered something very fun to do on the island they’d stopped at. Still it didn't explain why you were back so soon. He was one of the few on watch duty. You were part of the group out exploring the island. Curious he stepped up beside you as you made your way to the kitchen to grab a drink. “What’s got you so upbeat? Yasopp get drunk and fall asleep in a flowerbed again?”

“No! It's too early for that, even for him.” You grinned, leaning against the counter while Beck grabbed a drink of his own. “I’ve got a date tonight.”

Not a lot surprised Benn much anymore but that declaration did make him pause and the once delicious mouthful of ale in his mouth seemed to become heavier and harder to swallow. While nothing ever explicit had happened between you both, Benn was very aware of his feelings that had been growing for you to be beyond just crewmates and friends.

You’d both flirted more times than he could count and been affectionate but nothing ever romantic or sexual since Benn believed letting things take the natural course to be the best plan of action. Seemed while he was on the ship and you were out on your own, someone caught your eye. He was a realist to know this wasn’t love for you and this random person. The ship would be setting sail in a couple days, this was just something to pass the time. Regardless of the meaning, the word ‘date’ twisted something unpleasant in him.

“A date huh?” Beck asked, keeping an air of calm and lightheartedness in his words because the last thing he would ever do was sour your happiness. “Hope they’re able to show you a good time. You deserve it.”

“I hope so too.” You smiled warmly as you finished your drink and sighed with a light shrug. “But if turns into a bad time, I’ll not cry over it. They’re cute, but not that cute. I’m going to get ready.” You stepped away and walked towards the door only to stop and quickly turn to look at Benn warningly but still with a touch of playfulness in your stare. “And if Shanks asks-”

“I know, I know. ” Beckman chuckled, knowing the last thing you'd want on a date was for Shanks to lurk nearby or tease you and disrupt things. “I won’t say a word until we set sail.”

“You’re the best, Beck.” You beamed before disappearing down the hallway to get ready for your night.

It wasn't long after you’d left to go meet your date when Lucky and Hongo returned to allow Benn and the others remaining on board to go out and see the island and have some fun. Beck knew he wouldn’t need to search far to find at least someone in the crew, knowing their lively presences would make themselves known without any effort. He was right because someone in the crew did appear, he was just surprised to see it was you and even stranger still you were on your own and the bounce you had in your step earlier was gone. “Hey you.” Beck greeted, his voice snapping you out of your thoughts. “What happened?”

“Guy never showed.” You explained with a small shrug. “Left a message that had he known I was a pirate he wouldn’t have asked me out.”

“You’re kidding.” Benn asked with eyebrows raised and a disbelieving shake of his head, some people were so gutless. “I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologise, Beck. Like I said he was cute, but not cute enough to cry over. I just wish I hadn’t wasted my time getting ready for it to go to waste.” You shrugged, smiling softly at Beck’s sympathy. “Have a good night. I’ll see you on the ship.”

As you moved to head in the direction of the ship you were swiftly caught by Benn’s hand and stopped. You looked up at your crewmate and let out a sigh to see him looking at you with a serious look. Truthfully you weren’t in any way hurt by what had happened. You’d mostly agreed to a date with someone else because you thought it would take your mind off of your feelings for the man in front of you. Now you hated that he looked upset on your behalf.“Beck, honestly I’m fine.”

“Fine or not you look too good to let it go to waste. C’mon you wanted a date, you’re getting a date.” Benn instructed, leading you back towards the town. When you opened your mouth to protest he grinned at you. “Don’t worry I’ll make sure you have fun.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” You huffed out with a smile, finally letting him lead you wherever he wanted. “Fine, I’m curious now to see how Benn Beckman operates on a date. Show me what you got Beck.”

“Oh that’s a tall order.” Benn laughed, adjusting his hand to lace his fingers with yours. “Y’see to really get the full experience it’ll take a lot more than a single date. Could take a long while.”

“That so?” You grinned walking side by side with him. “I’ve got the time.”

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya , @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya @48daisies , @rosemary-lungs

102 notes · View notes

cowboysmp3 · 1 day ago

Text

okay also i’ve seen people be like how the hell did mark not notice there was smthn different why was it irv or saying that irv only noticed because he’s reintergrated and mark didn’t realise because of his reintregration or whatever BUT I DISAGREE ON BOTH THESE POINTS

i think mark not noticing is a core part of his character. i interpret mark as someone who’s relatively naive, or at least spends a lot of time just believing what people tell him. he is relatively trusting, well meaning and believes in other people’s good intentions. even when he saw harmony cobel interacting with his outies life, he mostly responded in confusion over aggression - he doesn’t doubt helly or suspect her because he trusts her and believes her to be well intentioned.

i also don’t think it’s out of innie Irv’s character to be distrustful and to act the way he did in episode 4. i think it’s SO in character. Irv is the most loyal out of all of them, and INCREDIBLY perceptive. His loyalty to Kier and Lumon has transformed into his loyalty to Mark, Helly and Dylan, and we saw how precise and wrote he was about his loyalty to keir. it does not surprise me that he was the one to put pieces together, to doubt and worry about being betrayed. Irv has always also been confrontational if he cares about things, he repeatedly called the others out for doing things against handbook or that he disagreed with.

I think people have mischaracterised both Mark and Irv in these last few episode reactions. I just think people see Irv as an old sweet man, but he was actually always the most indoctrinated, confrontational and reactive of them all. He was the one who switched up from Kier is everything to Let’s Burn This Place To The Ground

#i may end up being wrong and he has reintegrated #but i just. don’t feel like it #idk though his outie is a MYSTERY #i love irv so much though #severance #severance spoilers

122 notes · View notes

bithcisweartogod · 2 days ago

Text

it’s not that cheng xiaoshi doesn’t trust lu guang. he does, probably more than anyone. him and qiao ling are the closest people he has. hell, he willingly trusts lu guang with his life on a daily, blindly allowing the guy to lead him in every dive, never once doubting that with lu guang in charge everything will be fine.

yet sometimes he can’t help but wish he would tell him more. not that cheng xiaoshi feels like he’s hiding something. he just wants to know more about lu guang. cheng xiaoshi himself has never been a particularly secretive person. he likes to share bits and pieces of himself with others, but only those that hover on the surface, not allowing too deep of a look into his mind. sure, he also doesn’t tell people everything. why would he? but lu guang barely shares anything at all.

those little crumbles of him that cheng xiaoshi managed to gather over the years either came as a result of pure observation or accidents. sometimes, if cheng xiaoshi asked, lu guang would tell him about the books he reads, or show him movies he likes, share songs he listens to. but that’s about it. cheng xiaoshi’s grateful for what he can get, but is it so wrong to want to know more about your partner?

and yeah, maybe lu guang’s lack of desire to share stuff about himself comes from the fact that cheng xiaoshi can and will tease him about it but come on. that’s what friends are for! something, he has to share something! like, childhood memories, for instance. it doesn’t even have to be something deep or anything, cheng xiaoshi doesn’t expect lu guang to get into the heavy stuff like he’s in a therapy session. something light and funny though, maybe a little silly, that should be fine, right? everyone has these kind of stories! yet whenever cheng xiaoshi and qiao ling dive into this topic lu guang just observes them quietly, all small smiles and stifled laughter.

qiao ling brought an old photo album one day. she found it during a major cleaning up session at her parents’ house. despite being her family’s photo album, it had lots of pictures of cheng xiaoshi, so she knew she had to bring it to the photo studio.

and there they were, the three of them seated on the sofa, looking through the photos. the pictures were really wholesome. little qiao ling holding little cheng xiaoshi’s hand at an amusement park, both of them smiling widely. she cooed at the image, and then, in the same sweet voice as before, she said: “remember how you threw up after that one ride that we told you not to take?”, leaving cheng xiaoshi frozen and lu guang laughing up his sleeve.

so that’s how it went. whenever cheng xiaoshi appeared in a photo qiao ling would add some details about its backstory, making embarrassing ones even more so. like, here’s a picture of cheng xiaoshi with mustache drawn on his face in black marker. he’s showing off, posing like a character from a movie.

“a few seconds after that he showed us the marker he draw those with and mom told him it’s permanent” qiao ling deadpans.

“and i took it very well” boasts cheng xiaoshi, crossing his arms over his chest.

“you cried like a baby”

“did not”

“i think you did”, intervenes lu guang, who had already turned the page, discovering a follow-up photo, that, although smudgy, showed a wailing cheng xiaoshi. so no, he did not, in fact, take it well. cheng xiaoshi’s ears turned red.

“you took a picture? i was standing there crying and you just took a picture?” he exclaims.

“sorry, sorry” says qiao ling, laughing. “it was too funny”.

cheng xiaoshi, of course, saw that as a challenge. he flipped through the pages of the photo album and then stopped, smiling in that manner of his that meant he’s up to no good.

“look who we have here” he said melodically.

qiao ling scoffed.

“it can’t be that bad, let me see— oh god”.

the picture showed little qiao ling, up close, definitely an attempt of hers to take a selfie on her parents’ camera. but the angle wasn’t the worst part. the makeup. what was going on. bright splotches of blue eyeshadow covered her eyes, her eyebrows looked like she got inspired by cheng xiaoshi’s mustache and drew them with a sharpie, her lips were over-lined with pink lipstick, and, as a cherry on top, glitter. it was everywhere. but little qiao ling seemed proud of herself, while the current one looked like she was holding back tears. she’ll definitely ask who and why decided that it would be a good idea to put this picture in the album when she comes home.

meanwhile, cheng xiaoshi was laughing uncontrollably, less from looking at the photo and more from seeing qiao ling’s reaction. lu guang was covering his mouth, trying to hide a smile.

“don’t worry, qiao ling-jie, your skills definitely improved” he tried to placate her.

“i sure hope they did!” screamed distressed qiao ling, looking as flabbergasted as she was before.

she turned the page to try and change the subject. suddenly, a blurred something caught cheng xiaoshi’s attention.

“what’s that?” he asked, pointing at the photo.

and now it was qiao ling’s turn to laugh.

“idiot, that’s your butt!”

cheng xiaoshi looked at her, bewildered, then back at the photo and then the recognition finally sank in.

“what the hell is it doing in your family’s photo album?” he tried to snatch the album away but qiao ling grabbed it first, quickly passing it to lu guang. with the way his palm covered his mouth it was hard to tell whether he’s laughing or genuinely concerned.

“why— who even decided to develop it?” cheng xiaoshi looked over lu guang’s shoulder, not trying to hide the photo anymore now that he’s already seen it. instead, he buried his face into the fabric of lu guang’s shirt, mortified.

“actually, you did” answers qiao ling, smiling from ear to ear.

“what?!”

“yeah! you were the one who brought it to us! you thought that the scar you got was super cool, so you decided to take a picture of it, and then asked aunt shao to develop it. and she did”.

memories were coming back to cheng xiaoshi, the way his mom laughed and immediately agreed to his request. she sure had an interesting sense of humor. he looked at the photo again, more intently this time.

“but you gotta admit…it does look cool. like a lightning…”

“wanna put it in a frame?” lu guang suggested, earning a loud snicker from qiao ling and a death glare from cheng xiaoshi.

they bickered over the photos, competing in who can make the other more embarrassed, but despite all the noise they made over this album, it felt good to revisit those memories. to look back on their past and laugh. to share it with lu guang.

later that day, when cheng xiaoshi and lu guang were already in their beds, slowly dozing off, cheng xiaoshi decided to ask something.

“lu guang? you asleep?”

after a short period of time a muffled answer comes out

“no”

a beat. cheng xiaoshi hesitates.

“it’s just…you never showed us any pictures from when you were a kid. or any pictures of your parents” or any pictures at all. for some reason he felt unsure. like he’s stepping into a territory not yet open for him. “i wouldn’t be too surprised to find out you were born an adult” a quiet laugh. an attempt to lighten up the atmosphere.

“i can just see you saying ‘thank you for carrying me all those nine months, mother’ and bowing to the doctors” he blabbers, trying to continue the joke, which earns a low stifled laugh from lu guang.

“you’re ridiculous” he says, and cheng xiaoshi can hear him smiling. warmth spreads in his chest. after remaining silent for some time, lu guang speaks again.

“it’s nothing special, really. my parents just never liked to take photos. i don’t have anything to show, that’s it”

it made cheng xiaoshi sad, the fact that he’d never get to see lu guang little. was his hair always white? was his attitude always so quiet and stoic? did he ever do any of the embarrassing things he and qiao ling were up to when they were kids?

“you’re disappointed?” lu guang asks suddenly. damn, he’s uncannily good at reading his mind.

“don’t be silly” comes out cheng xiaoshi’s immediate response. then, turning to the side, he ads, “i have you here now. that’s all that matters”.

and that’s true. whatever past lu guang had, whatever things he’s purposefully hiding away from him…he’s here, with cheng xiaoshi. and, as lu guang himself said, he’s not going anywhere.

next day qiao ling comes into the photo studio again. in her hands there’s…a book? she places it on the counter, smiling happily. a book turns out to be a photo album. a brand new one, all pages empty, waiting to be filled.

“it just hit me suddenly, after i left yesterday. it’s so stupid. we don’t have a photo album of our own! at the photo studio! absurd”.

and just like that, they started piling up a history of their own, capturing time in the pages of the album. a picture of lu guang on the sofa, fallen asleep in the middle of reading a book. sunlight dances on his skin. he scrunches his nose in his sleep. a picture of qiao ling pulling cheng xiaoshi into a hug. he tries to look annoyed but his smile betrays him. cheng xiaoshi with a braid. it looks a little messed up since his hair’s not long enough, but pretty nonetheless. lu guang patting a stray cat near the photo studio. qiao ling and xu shanshan hitting cheng xiaoshi with pillows. qiao ling smiling brightly as cheng xiaoshi scrubs the floor behind her. he lost a bet and was supposed to clean up for a month. lu guang eventually agreed to help him (he always does) and ended up taking the majority of cheng xiaoshi’s cleaning duties upon himself. lu guang with a pissed off expression, huge coffee spot on his shirt. he accidentally spilled it and cheng xiaoshi had to capture the moment as evidence that lu guang does in fact fuck up sometimes. lu guang smiling. lu guang posing with an awkward peace sign. lots of lu guang, actually. because cheng xiaoshi, unlike lu guang’s parents, likes taking photos. especially photos of lu guang.

it’s not that cheng xiaoshi doesn’t trust lu guang. he does, probably more than anyone. so he knows that lu guang would tell him more when he’s ready. there’s no rush. he likes it even more like that - getting to know him, gradually, bit by bit.

#link click #shiguang daili ren #时光代理人 #shiguang #surprisingly enough i made it to day 2 fajsgsjd #the photo of qiao ling with makeup is like that one girl from vine 😭#i miss them

96 notes · View notes

starlightkun · 2 days ago

Text

savvy ❧ teaser

❧ teaser word count:��822 | full fic: 12.2k ❧ warnings: cursing, they go kinda skinny dipping at one point (wearing underwear) ❧ genre: fluff, a little suggestive, modern magical creatures au, fantasy au, college au if you squint, summer camp au, dryad jaemin, human reader, camp counselors jaemin & reader, same universe as strawberry sunday ❧ extra info: this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday but can be read as a standalone! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe, they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!) ❧ estimated release: friday, february 14, 2025, 6:00 p.m. eastern time

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!

You knew you were getting closer to the river when you could hear running water, and the air around you started feeling less heavy and a lot fresher. The trail under your feet turned sandy as you finally emerged from the trees onto a shoreline by the river.

You immediately froze, though, not expecting to see somebody else at the riverside. It was a man pulling himself up out of the river onto a rocky formation. He was shirtless, his biceps, shoulders, and all other sorts of muscles flexing along with his motions. His eyes were closed as he shook his wet hair out, then pushed the damp locks back from his face with both of his hands. The sunlight made him look like he was glowing, every drop of water that ran down his body sparkling like a jewel, and you couldn’t make yourself look away.

He looked like he’d been sculpted by the gods. Which you supposed he had, or one in particular at least, you realized, as his eyes opened and settled on you as if he’d known you were there the whole time. They were the color of ferns, but shifted to a lighter mossy green under the dappling of the sunlight. Dryad. Son of Pan. Or so the legends go.

“Hi?” Despite his voice pitching up to make the greeting sound like a question, the wide, cocky smile on his face told you that he definitely knew that you’d been stood there ogling him for an embarrassing amount of time.

“Sorry!” You cringed at the sound of your own voice. “I didn’t realize there was anybody out here.”

The dryad started picking his way down the rocks towards you carefully, grabbing something off one of them as he went. A neon yellow shirt. When he finally dropped onto the ground a few feet in front of you, he gave the shirt a twist to wring out a few drops of water.

“I’m Jaemin,” he said, gripping the shirt even tighter and giving it another twist for good measure. You pretended like you didn’t notice the veins in his hands or the way his forearms tautened with the motion. He shook out the shirt to show you the logo on the front of it, a smiling evergreen tree that matched yours. “I’m also a counselor at Camp Pineleaf this year. We must’ve gone to different training sessions, huh? Anyway, I was walking the perimeter before the kids got here and I kind of—”

Jaemin stopped, a sheepish sort of look coming to his face as he ducked his head almost in embarrassment.

You looked around in confusion. “You what?”

“I fell in the river.”

“You fell in?” You stared at him. You couldn’t tell if he was messing with you or not. What kind of dryad—

“I know, what kind of dryad is falling in rivers?” He pulled the shirt on over his head, which you could now see he had cut the sleeves off of. “Aren’t we supposed to be connected to nature and all that? I still don’t know how it happened, one second I was just climbing the rocks and surveying the river, next thing I knew, I was in the river. Then you showed up.”

Clumsy dryad. That was a new one.

“I’m Y/N.” Introducing yourself was only fair since he’d already given you his name. “Seems like we’re head counselors of the Swallowtails this year, Jaemin.”

It was then that he seemed to notice the matching colors of your shirts, and his features lit up in recognition. “Hey, looks like it!”

You checked your watch. “We should be getting back, the kids are going to be arriving soon.”

“Right!”

“Besides, if I have to stay out here any longer, I’m going to pass out from heat exhaustion.” You groaned, pulling the front of your shirt off from where it had stuck to your skin, using it to fan yourself. “And there’s no way I’m dying out here and risking getting my ghost stuck in the middle of nowhere for forever instead of somewhere cool.”

Jaemin suddenly had a look of alarm on his face, and you looked around with an eyebrow raised.

“What? Something I said?”

“No, sorry, thought I heard something,” he shook his head. “It was just a vole. Lead the way.”

You hadn’t heard anything other than the usual forest sounds, but chalked it up to superior magic hearing, and started back on the trail to the main camp.

“So, why did you come out here, Y/N?”

“Same as you, walking the perimeter.”

“And… I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude, but what are you?”

You looked at him curiously. “Can’t you tell? I’m a human.”

He blinked as if shaken from a trance. Then he offered you another heart-stopping smile. “Right, of course. Sorry about that. Must’ve hit my head when I fell in the river.”

“Must’ve…”

⤷ anthology masterlist | blog masterlist

TEASER TAGLIST

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @lotties-readings @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001 @snowyseungs @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu

#jaemin #na jaemin #jaemin x reader #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #nct dream #nct #nct dream imagines #jaemin imagines #nct imagines #i: jaemin #f: savvy #au: strawberry sunday #savvy: teaser #writing #text #mine #jaem

86 notes · View notes