#and also because of the behind the scenes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jeonscatalyst · 2 days ago

Note

I'm basic and like Woosan and Minsung lol. Like, I'm a sucker and click on the YouTube shorts / tiktoks about their chemistry or how they're whipped for each other.

That said, I think if anything, the presence of fan service is a pretty clear indicator that the relationship is platonic lol. Like, if two members were actually dating, flirting, etc. then they'd keep it hidden from the public and probably other idols/industry folks, too.

i saw this on my timeline from a stan of another group. but aren't they telling the truth ? will a real couple be that public with their gay relationship with their bandmate ? Its very unlikely 2 men who have a secret relationship behind the scenes will flaunt it for public to see in their homophobic country, especially knowing its harmful for them their group their company their families etc. Going on trips, filming and releasing it, saying you got bitten, allowing staff to film it, having numerous skinship moments on screen and on stage - especially when one is extra private and professional to the point he even hides his iphone airpods which he shares with his supposed bf because they have a contract with samsung and the one who is stalked every 2 days by his y/n saesangs who apparanlty doesnt know about his sexuality or relationship with bandmate, huh?. This all sums up to them being genuine platonic friends who are playing up for their fans and doesnt mind being called a couple. None of heavily shipped duos in other groups doesnt shy away from pda, even teasing fans in their live streams because at the end of the day they are close friends who have nothing hidden going on or to fear.

Its naive to think jikook are a real couple who should be protected in their homophobic country(or world in general) and from crazy fandom when its Jikook themselves who are exhibiting their friendship in homoromantic way for public to see. Make it make sense ?

Hi anon,

So what I’m reading is that you and others see it too? You see exactly what we see…you recognize that the way Jimin and Jungkook behave with each other could easily lead anyone to believe their relationship isn’t purely platonic. Yet, rather than acknowledge that possibility, you attempt to rationalize it by arguing that a real couple, especially in a homophobic country, wouldn’t behave so openly but would instead go to great lengths to hide their relationship. Noted.

But that raises an important question: who set the rules on how people in such circumstances are supposed to behave? Sure, there are common expectations for how individuals might act in certain situations, but the truth is, we can’t possibly know the full extent of their reality. Unlike them, we don’t have firsthand insight into their experiences, nor can we accurately gauge the risks involved the way they can.

Every time I see arguments like yours, I can’t help but roll my eyes. It’s painfully clear that many people don’t understand the first thing about queer history or the ways in which queer individuals have learned to navigate a world that hasn’t always accepted them. Queer people have mastered the art of hiding in plain sight. For most, that’s second nature because, at some point in their lives, they’ve had to conceal at least parts of who they are. But let’s not forget that humans are, well, human….we aren’t always calculated. There are times when emotions override logic, and in those moments, people who are forced to hide often end up revealing more than they intend. Those are the moments where we catch glimpses of something real.

Idols, of course, are expected to engage in fanservice…it’s practically built into their job. They understand that many of their actions, especially on stage, will automatically be dismissed as just fanservice. So tell me, Anon, if you were a queer person who had spent years perfecting the art of blending in, what better way would there be to take advantage of moments where people are already primed to excuse your actions as something else?

Also, I have to wonder, do you honestly believe that most Jikookers ship Jimin and Jungkook purely because of what they do on stage or because of this “fanservice”? Because if so, that only proves how little you actually understand. There’s far more to why we believe they could be in a romantic relationship than just their stage interactions.

You brought up examples like: “Would a closeted couple go on a private trip, take videos, and post them?” And to that, I have to ask: Do you realize what you just admitted? The fact that you even question whether a closeted couple would do something like that means that, on some level, you also perceive those actions as non-platonic. So instead of asking whether a couple in a homophobic country would behave a certain way, why not ask yourself: Why would two “just friends” do these things in the first place?

Regardless of whether Jungkook filmed and posted GCF, the fact remains that he took Jimin to Tokyo…during a short break, at a time when both were going through a lot. Regardless of whether Hickeygate ever saw the light of day, the fact remains that it happened. Jungkook still carried a tipsy Jimin bridal-style, spun him around, and when Jimin wanted to be let down, he bit Jungkook’s neck…an erogenous zone. These things all happened whether we got to know about them or not. And since you’re citing these examples as things a queer couple in a homophobic country wouldn’t do, that means you also recognize that these actions don’t exactly scream platonic friendship. Unless, of course, you’re seriously trying to argue that traveling to Japan together, carrying each other in their arms, and biting each other’s necks in private were all just for the sake of fanservice?

“Its naive to think jikook are a real couple who should be protected in their homophobic country(or world in general) and from crazy fandom when its Jikook themselves who are exhibiting their friendship in homoromantic way for public to see. Make it make sense ? "

No, Anon. I don’t think Jikook are deliberately presenting their friendship in a homoerotic way. I think they’re simply existing and interacting with each other in a way that comes naturally to them. You’re the one perceiving something more…..and that says a lot more about your own instincts than whatever you think Jimin and Jungkook are intentionally doing.

And once again, don’t assume for a second that I, or most Jikookers, believe in Jikook just because of what you call “fanservice.” That’s where non-shippers and rival shippers (honestly, I can’t tell which you are) always get it wrong. You miss the details that people who genuinely pay attention to Jimin and Jungkook as a duo pick up on. The little things….the ones that make all the difference.

Go back and carefully comb through Jimin and Jungkook’s history if you care to. Look at all the little TMI’s we’ve gathered over the years, from staff members, Jikook themselves, from the members and from their friends and acquaintances. Then come back and tell me, honestly, if you still believe that people think there is more going on with Jikook because of “fanservice.”

#jikook #jimin #jungkook #ship discourse #my asks

68 notes · View notes

alewritesfics · 2 days ago

Text

Bridging realities

𝖁𝕴𝕴. 𝕭𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖌....𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: unedited, slow burn, eventual smut/ spicy scenes, some angst but happy ending, playful banter

Hehehehe

⏮️ ⏸️ ⏭️

You would be lying if you said you weren’t worried.

It was now the time where Anthony invited the Sharma family over to Aubrey Hall before the ball, it wouldn’t have upset you, if it wasn’t also the time which truly cemented the start of Kate and Anthony’s love story.

With Edwina, you didn’t have to worry much, which sounded cruel, but it’s written that Anthony, under no circumstances, ends up with her, both in the series and in the books, but Kate?

Kate is his destiny. And you have tried so hard to change that destiny but what if their love is so strong that it overcomes any brief affections that Anthony feels for someone else? Aubrey Hall was where they fell in love. And you hope, hope, hope, that you have gotten under Anthony’s skin so much that changes that.

You sighed as you step out of the featherington manor, slightly fed up with their daily ocurrences, you mean, seriously? Portia now is trying to get Prudence to catch cousin Jack’s attention, ew.

Your eyes brighten up as you saw the Bridgerton family getting their luggages on the carriages to leave, catching sight of one Bridgerton in particular. You walked over, crossing the street.

“Ah, Y/n, came to see us off?” Eloise said as she saw you coming over

You smiled “Yes, I didn’t know you were leaving so early”

“yes, well, we like to spend a few days in Aubrey Hall to rest before the ton arrives” Lady Bridgerton said as she approached us “lovely to see you, dear, you are coming to the ball with Penelope, yes?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything” you answered, she smiled at you, heading over to continue packing

You looked behind you before walking towards Anthony “Why are you all leaving so early?” you asked, even though you already knew the answer

“Ah, well, mother wanted to relax for a few days,” he said “and….we- uh- we invited the Sharmas over” you turned to look at him

“The Sharmas?” you say “Whatever for?”

“That is what one does when you are courting a lady” Anthony cleared his throat

You hide your wince “So….it is official then?” you asked before huffing “her sister is against you! Why are you still so stubb-“

Anthony exhaled sharply, turning toward you with a look that made your stomach tighten. His usual mask of indifference had cracked, revealing something raw beneath it—frustration, maybe even anger.

“Why do you always say that?” he demanded, his voice sharp.

You blinked. “Say what?”

“That I should give up,” he snapped. “Every time, without fail, you insist that I should walk away. Why? Why do you care so much about whether I pursue Miss Edwina or not?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening. “Because it’s obvious that this is a mistake, Anthony.”

“A mistake?” he repeated, stepping closer. “What do you know of mistakes? What do you know of me?”

Your breath hitched. The space between you was too small now, the tension too thick. “I know that you are stubborn,” you said, your voice quieter but no less firm. “I know that you think you can force yourself into a life that does not suit you, simply because it is what you should do.”

Anthony let out a bitter laugh. “And what would you have me do, Y/N? Follow passion? Risk everything for something that will only lead to ruin?”

“Ruin?” Your voice rose, your frustration boiling over. “Is that what you think love is? Ruin?”

His jaw clenched. “Love is unpredictable. It is reckless. I have seen what it does to a man, what it did to my mother. It destroyed my mother when he died.” He took a shuddering breath, as if the admission had slipped from him unwillingly. “I will not let it destroy me.”

Your heart ached. “Anthony…”

“No,” he cut you off, shaking his head. “I do not have the luxury of love, Y/N. I have a duty—to my family, to my title. I cannot afford to be selfish.”

Your fingers curled Into your palms. “And you think marrying Edwina will spare you from love? That if you choose someone who does not make your heart race, you will be safe?”

Anthony’s breath was unsteady, and for a moment, he looked at you as if you had struck him. And maybe, in a way, you had.

“You think you know everything,” he said finally, his voice quieter, but no less intense. “You think you see me so clearly, but you don’t. You can’t.”

Your lips parted, but he wasn’t done.

“I am tired, Y/N.” His voice was ragged, exhausted in a way you had never heard before. “Tired of fighting what is expected of me. Tired of feeling like I am being pulled in a direction I cannot control.” His eyes locked onto yours, dark and stormy. “And you—you only make it worse.”

You inhaled sharply, your chest tightening. “Anthony…” you scoffed “W-what I do? How am I making it worse?”

Anthony let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head as he stepped back from you. “You truly don’t see it, do you?”

Your pulse quickened at the way he was looking at you now—like you were the very thing unraveling him, like you were the storm he hadn’t accounted for.

“I don’t understand,” you admitted, your voice quieter now, hesitant.

Anthony exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face as though he were attempting to physically push away whatever war raged inside him. “You tell me to give up,” he muttered, voice low but edged with something dangerous. “You tell me to walk away from Edwina as if it is the simplest thing in the world. And yet—you stand here, looking at me like this, speaking to me like this-”

He cut himself off, shaking his head.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “Like what?”

His jaw clenched. “Like you care.”

Your breath hitched.

“I do care,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Anthony’s laugh was sharp, almost bitter. “Then why are you trying so hard to push me away? To tell me this—her—is a mistake?”

Your heart pounded against your ribs, and suddenly the truth—your truth—was clawing at your throat, desperate to be spoken.

But you couldn’t.

Because if you told him, if you let those words slip past your lips, then there would be no going back.

So instead, you steeled yourself, meeting his gaze head-on. “Because you don’t love her,” you said. “And she deserves someone who does.”

Anthony flinched. For the first time, he faltered, his expression slipping into something vulnerable, something unguarded.

And then, just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

He straightened, inhaling sharply as he pulled himself back together, as he rebuilt the walls you had nearly knocked down.

“I have already made my decision,” he said finally, voice cool, detached.

You nodded, forcing a tight smile even as your chest ached. “Then I hope, for your sake, that you don’t come to regret it.”

Anthony stared at you for a moment longer, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. But then he stepped back, a finality in his movement, and turned away.

“I have to go,” he said abruptly, stepping back. The cold distance between you was sudden, suffocating.

And just like that, he turned, walking away without another word.

You stood there, heart pounding, hands trembling at your sides.

You had pushed him. Too far, maybe. But deep down, you finally knew—.

You rolled your eyes as you saw the viscount sat on one of the tables with Miss Edwina.

After you had arrived on Aubrey Hall, the first thing you did was look around for him. Honestly, you were starting to sound and look like a stalker but you can’t help it. It certainly doesn’t help that now that you both were fighting, there was a big chance that his affections changed towards Kate after what you think, but hopefully not, happened these last three days that they were in each other’s presence.

“ah, good, Y/n, you’re here” you heard him say from behind, you turned to look at him, surprised that he was speaking to you after the little fight you both had “i-I almost got into a little squabble with Miss Sharma over there but fortunately your presence served as a distraction. I did after all have to show my friend around”

You looked at him unamused. Why is he pretending he didn’t act like a total jerk a few days ago?

He sighed once he saw your expression “I apologize….for the fight we had” he said “I know I acted like a jerk and shouldn’t have gotten angry with you and if I hurt your feelings…I am truly sorry”

You swallowed “Thank you for your apology” you say “and…I apologize as well. I should not put my nose into things that aren’t my business”

“no, no, I-I get that you are worried, like one gets for a friend” he tried to wave off your apologies “am I wrong?”

You shook your head “not at all” you deny, finally feeling happy “Tell me then, what did I serve as a distraction for?”

He looked behind him before looking at you once again “I almost got into a squabble with Miss Sharma, over hunting” he answered “Miss Edwina suggested she goes along with us men as we hunt and I denied the suggestion. It is very inappropriate for a woman to join a bunch of men. Luckily, before the fight could progress, I saw you and decided to come over, ending the squabble”

You hummed as you took one of the drinks nearby on a table “I take it Miss Sharma is going along then?” you tried to ask nonchalantly, fighting off the ugly feeling on your chest

“She is” He nodded,

your heart sunk “oh”

“but I’m not”

Your eyes went wide, looking up at him shocked “What?” he-he steered of the script

“Yes, I should stay behind, act as a good host and show my friend around, should I not?”

You stared at him, lips slightly parted, searching his face for any indication that he was jesting. But Anthony, ever the Viscount, ever the picture of control, simply held your gaze with a steady intensity that made your stomach twist.

“I—” You faltered, unsure how to respond. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to go with them. He was supposed to go with Kate. And yet, here he was, choosing to stay behind. With you.

A slow, almost teasing smirk ghosted across his lips. “What?” he asked, tilting his head. “You seem surprised.”

You shook your head quickly, forcing yourself to snap out of it. “No, I— I just thought that you were rather set on the idea of hunting.”

“I was,” he admitted, shifting slightly closer. “Until I realized that I had far more pressing matters to attend to.”

Your heartbeat stuttered. “And what matters would those be?”

Anthony exhaled, eyes searching yours. “You, for one.”

Your breath caught. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” His voice was lower now, softer. “You were rather displeased with me before I left for Aubrey Hall. And though I cannot say I am entirely undeserving of such displeasure, I find myself unwilling to let it linger.”

You swallowed hard. “Anthony, we already apologized to each other—”

“Yes, but apologies do not erase things,” he said, cutting you off gently. “And I do not wish for us to… linger in whatever this is.”

You stared at him, heart hammering. What is this?

You had spent so much time convincing yourself that he was so stubborn, completely sticking to the script. But here he was, deviating from what was supposed to happen, his attention solely on you.

You cleared your throat, trying to mask the emotions swirling inside you. “And how do you propose we do that?”

Anthony considered you for a moment before offering you his arm. “Come,” he said. “Let me show you Aubrey Hall properly. The hunting party will be gone for hours. That gives us plenty of time.”

You hesitated. Every fiber of your being was screaming at you that this was wrong, but then you met his gaze again—earnest, unwavering.

Slipping your arm through his, you let him lead you away.

Anthony led you through the vast grounds of Aubrey Hall, his arm steady beneath your hand as he guided you through the sprawling gardens, the perfectly trimmed hedges, and the grand hallways adorned with family portraits. A maid trailed behind, ensuring propriety was maintained, but Anthony hardly seemed to notice her presence.

He showed you the rose garden first, boasting about how his mother spent years cultivating each variety. Then, the old oak tree by the pond, where he claimed Colin had nearly drowned himself as a child by foolishly trying to walk across a too-thin layer of ice.

“You mean to tell me that Colin was not born with the wisdom of a man who has traveled the world?” you teased, grinning up at him.

Anthony let out a soft chuckle. “Far from it. If you had seen half of the things that boy has attempted, you would wonder how he survived this long.”

You laughed, enjoying the rare moment of lightheartedness between you.

After a few more stops—including the stables, where he let you pet his horse, and the drawing room, where he and his siblings often played games—the two of you eventually found yourselves at the library.

“This,” Anthony declared as he opened the heavy doors, “is the most impressive room in the house. And before you say anything, yes, I am aware that I sound like a self-important fool, but I take great pride in it. My father’s library”

You stepped inside, taking in the sight of towering bookshelves, leather-bound volumes lining the walls from floor to ceiling. The scent of aged paper and polished wood filled the air.

“Impressive indeed,” you admitted, running your fingers lightly over the spines of some books as you walked past them.

Anthony watched you with amusement. “Do you read much?”

You scoffed. “Of course, I do. What else is a lady supposed to do when avoiding dreadful suitors?”

He smirked. “And yet, you seem to enjoy my company well enough.”

“Are you a suitor?” You gave him a pointed look. “You are tolerable at best, my lord.”

Anthony clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me.”

You rolled your eyes, reaching for a book. “Tell me, which is your favorite?”

He hesitated for a moment before stepping toward one of the shelves and pulling out a well-worn volume. “i-I don’t read much” he said, handing it to you.

You raised a brow. “Ah, yes, Why does that not surprise me?” you let out a chuckle

Anthony smirked. “And what of you? Let me guess—some romantic nonsense filled with foolish declarations of love?”

You huffed, shoving the book back into his hands before looking around the bookshelves, seeing if the book you were thinking about was there, you grinned when you saw it, plucking another from the shelf. “Much Ado About Nothing,” you said proudly.

His brows lifted. “A comedy?”

“A brilliant one,” you corrected. “Filled with wit, mischief, and people who bicker so much that they do not realize they are in love.”

Anthony let out a low chuckle. “How fitting.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And what exactly do you mean by that”

He merely grinned, stepping closer. “Nothing at all, my dear friend. Nothing at all.”

You glared at him but felt your lips twitch. There was something almost easy about this moment—something that made your chest warm despite the cool air of the library.

For the first time since arriving at Aubrey Hall, you let yourself enjoy his company without overthinking what it meant. Without thinking of Kate. Without thinking of fate.

Just him. Just you.

And, for now, that was enough.

Anthony leaned against the edge of a bookshelf, watching you with an expression that sent a strange flutter through your chest. You ignored it, running your fingers over the spine of Much Ado About Nothing.

“You know,” you mused, tilting your head to look at him, “if I recall correctly, Benedict once told me that you were hopeless when it came to Shakespeare. But now that you have told me you don’t read much, I believe that.”

Anthony scoffed. “Benedict is an insufferable know-it-all.”

You smirked. “So it is true, then?”

“I never said that,” he countered, crossing his arms.

You tapped a finger against the book. “Alright then, my lord, if you are not hopeless, you should have no trouble quoting something from this play.”

Anthony’s eyes flickered with amusement. “You expect me to perform like a fool?”

“Oh, I would never ask you to do something you are incapable of,” you teased, watching as his lips parted in mock offense.

“You are a menace,” he muttered.

“And yet, you choose to spend the afternoon in my company,” you countered, taking a step closer.

Anthony sighed as if he were put upon, but there was a glint of something softer in his gaze as he finally relented. “Fine,” he said, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and then, with the most dramatic flourish imaginable, he declared:

“I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that strange”

Your breath caught.

The words, though Shakespeare’s, did not feel like a jest. Not when spoken like that—not when his voice softened at the end, not when his dark eyes held yours so intently.

The air between you shifted.

You swallowed, forcing out a scoff to break the tension. “Well, that is certainly an interpretation.”

Anthony smirked, but there was something else behind it—something unreadable. “Is it?”

You refused to let your mind wander to what that something might mean. Instead, you turned back to the shelf, hoping that he could not see the warmth creeping up your cheeks. “We should return before your mother starts to wonder if I have stolen her son away.”

Anthony hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Yes, of course.”

You turned to leave, but just as you reached the doorway, he spoke again.

“Y/N?”

You glanced over your shoulder.

Anthony was still standing in the same spot, looking at you like he was trying to figure something out. After a moment, he simply shook his head, exhaling through his nose. “Nothing,” he murmured. “Let us go.”

But as you walked back to the rest of the party, you could not shake the feeling that whatever he almost said would have changed everything.

The day went by like a flash, and before you knew it, it was already the evening of the next day, the ball taking place.

You had watched as Anthony danced with Edwina two times on a row before heading over to grab a drink. You walked after him, your steps determined.

“two dances on a row? How scandalous” you teased as you got close to him

He chuckled as he turned to face you “yes, well, what can I say? I’m a rebellious man”

You chuckled “Well, I’m sure this rebellious man would like to take me for a spin on the dance floor now? He has already shared two dances with the lady, a third one is plain inappropriate” you stated

“Just say you wish to dance” He smirked “I certainly will not deny you”

You laughed as he held out his hand and put your own on top of his, your gaze went behind him, catching the figures of Edwina and Kate, both confused on why Anthony didn’t go back to them. You held back your triumphant gaze, letting Anthony lead you to the floor.

God, you were petty.

You both stood facing each other as the music started, bowing before you started to dance. Honestly, you were surprised your body acted unconsciously, dancing along to everyone else, but after watching this particular scene so many times (ahem, ‘I am a gentleman’, ‘tell me you feel nothing and I will walk away’ jajfsjsuiejshsjsnsnsgwiwm) you had memorized the dance already.

You looked around the room as Anthony twirled you around, your heart beating fast as you remembered that tomorrow was the day in which Anthony proposed to Edwina in the series.

No matter how hard you have been trying to steer Anthony off of his choice, he is so stubborn that he isn’t completely off the idea, meaning that you haven’t managed to make him change his mind completely.

Still, you aren’t completely unaware that you haven’t changed things because you have, you have noticed many things that Anthony has done that are completely different from the show, and although you are happy about that, it still isn’t enough.

You turned back towards Anthony, your eyes flickering between his eyes, “Don’t marry her,” you blurt out without thinking.

Anthony’s eyes widened in surprise “What?” he asked shocked.

Your face froze as you registered your own words before you swallowed and decided to speak out “Edwina. Don’t marry her” you say once again, this time confidently.

Anthony’s hands let go of you as the music stopped “Y/n, you cannot ask that of me”

“Anthony-“ you start to say.

“No,” he said in disbelief before he shook his head and marched off.

You let out a sigh, your eyes unconsciously turning towards where Edwina was with Kate, both of their eyes already looking in your direction, Edwina’s filled with innocent confusion, but it was the look in Kate’s that made your heart stop. Realization.

You shook it off before walking off towards where Anthony went, already knowing that he went towards his study. You entered the study, stopping for a second at the door before deciding to impulsively lock it.

“Anthony-“ You called out, watching as he paced by his desk.

“You cannot ask that of me” He said once again, angrily.

“Yes, I can-“

“No!”

“Yes, I can, and I will!” You snapped walking towards him “Don’t ask her to marry you” you said calmly this time.

He stopped and turned to look at you, “I have to” he swallowed, his eyes furiously flickering between yours, searching.

You shook your head “No, Why are you so hell bent on marrying out of duty?” You asked desperate “Anthony, you are as deserving of love as any one of us and it pains me that you do not see it, why can’t you see it?”

“Love isn’t in my plans” He denied “I have told you many times”

“But it can be,” you stated, walking even closer “I know why you so fervently deny it to yourself, but I am sure that if you asked your mother, she would do it all over again just for the feeling of loving your father, for the feeling of experiencing love in it’s finest glory, no matter how painful it turned out”

“And- and if you still think you will end up the same, I am sure your wife, who you marry for love, will be grateful that she at least got the chance to experience your love” You say “….I know I would”

“Y/n….” He said painfully, turning to face his desk, resting his hands on it.

“You feel it too,” you murmured “You cannot deny it, I’ve seen it in your eyes. Anthony-“

“Stop,” he growled, making you freeze, thinking he was done with the conversation “stop, stop saying my name like that”

You let out a breath, your heart starting to beat faster and faster “Anthony-“

Before you could react, he had stood up, grabbing your hand and caging you between the desk and his body.His breath was uneven, his dark eyes locked on yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” Anthony whispered, his voice low and raw, as though it pained him to speak the words aloud.

You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering in your ears. “I… I only speak the truth, Anthony.”

He closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to compose himself, but when they opened again, they were blazing. “The truth? The truth is that you’ve undone me. Ever since you walked into my life, you’ve made me question everything I’ve ever known. Duty, logic, responsibility—they all crumble the moment I’m near you.”

“Anthony…” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you placed a hand on his chest. His heart was pounding as fiercely as yours, and it only made you braver. “You don’t have to choose between love and duty. You can have both.”

His hand tightened on yours, and for a moment, you thought he might give in. But then, he released you abruptly and took a step back, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice strained. “Do you think I don’t want to? Do you think I haven’t imagined it? But my family depends on me. I cannot afford to be selfish.”

“Selfish?” you echoed, incredulous. “Anthony, marrying someone you don’t love isn’t selfless. It’s cruel. To you, to her, to everyone involved. You deserve happiness, and so does she.”

He turned to look at you again, his expression torn between longing and despair. “And what of you? What are you asking of me?"

Your breath hitched. The question hung heavily in the air, the weight of it pressing down on both of you. You didn’t know if you could say it, if you had the courage to lay your heart bare. But then, you realized you already had.

“I’m asking you to choose love,” you said softly. “To choose me.”

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Anthony stared at you, his jaw tight, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions you couldn’t decipher.

His gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” he said again, his voice breaking slightly. “You don’t know what it’s like to carry this weight.”

“Then let me carry it with you,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “Let me stand by your side. Anthony, you don’t have to do this alone.”

His hands tightened on the desk, his knuckles white. For a moment, you thought he might finally give in, that he might finally let down the walls he’d built around himself.

But then he shook his head, his expression hardening. “No,” he said, his voice firm but hollow. “This cannot happen. I will not allow it.”

“Why?” you demanded, tears stinging your eyes. “Why are you so determined to push me away?”

“Because if I don’t,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I won’t be able to stop.”

Before you could respond, his lips crashed against yours, the kiss desperate and full of the emotions he’d been trying so hard to suppress. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you flush against him as though he couldn’t bear the thought of any space between you.

It was overwhelming, intoxicating, and you found yourself clinging to him, your hands tangling in his hair as you poured everything you felt into that kiss.

But just as quickly as it began, Anthony pulled away, his breathing ragged as he stepped back, leaving you cold and disoriented.

“This has to stop,” he said, his voice cracking. “I can’t—I won’t”

“Anthony—” you began, reaching for him.

“No,” he interrupted, his tone final. “I cannot give you what you want. And you… you deserve far more than I can offer.”

And with that, he turned and left, leaving you standing there, your heart shattered and your mind reeling.

You lost.

That was the only thing you thought as you sunk down on the floor, burying your face in your hands as your tears fell.

⏮️ ⏸️ ⏭️

Taglist:

@talkativecarnation

@imafangirlofeverything

@stopeatread

@smartiepants217

@magical-spit

@ifilwtmfc

@kitkat27

@electronicexpertshark

@annareidprofiler

@zestygingergirl

@noirrose21-blog

@ericityyy

@neenieweenie

@syraxnyra

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #kate sharma #edwina sharma #lady mary sharma #lady danbury #violet bridgerton

70 notes · View notes

pineapple-downside-up-cake · 2 days ago

Text

I've gone a bit feral over the inexperienced Simon agenda. I'm also a little obsessed with the 'size kink but in the not-feeling oversized' post.

It was supposed to be short and dirty... Before I knew it there were 3k words. I don't even know if it's still smut or if it's just a sex scene, but it's being released into the wild, anyway. Enjoy!

18+, MDNI

CW: use of sex toy; inexperienced Simon Riley, mentions of weight insecurity

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There are no waifs in your family line.

Peasants, farmers, horses... a dwarf or nine? Quite possibly.

It's not that you're fat, per se.

You're just solid. A bulwark of a woman in a world that venerates the narrow-boned, slim sculpted beauty that was never in your cards.

You’ve had lovers in the past, not all of them terrible. A few with enough reciprocity even to prioritize your pleasure, and it’s not entirely their fault if you’ve deliberately put brains over brawns – your friends might point out that your type skews heavily towards ‘spindly legged nerds’.

It’s not so much preference as happenstance. These are the people you are around, the kind of men you can talk to long enough to form a basis for intercourse. And, you remind them as you remind yourself, intelligence and personality are supposed to be desirable qualities, as well. Things that matter more to a relationship than appearances.

But you’ve always been aware of the physical imbalances, always careful to balance your weight, to curb your strength and pleasure to avoid breaking your twiggy lovers. It wasn’t bad. Just…measured.

Restrained.

Restraint you wish you could cast unto the last guy you dated, who went all in that first night on the couch in his apartment, a night that has haunted your psyche since.

You’d lost your balance, landed a little too heavily – and the man had fucking laughed, letting out an uninhibited “crush me, mommy” that sent you running for the hills, feeling the least sexy you've felt since your last high school dance.

It put you off men for months, because how the hell does someone recover from that?

But when Simon - gorgeous, intelligent, you-are-the-brute-squad Simon fucking Riley - asks you out?

Well.

You say yes. Obviously.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was supposed to just be a kiss at the door.

A goodbye kiss - a good goodbye kiss, because a man with honey eyes like that deserved a little tongue in his farewell - but then you were eye to eye with him on the top step and his shoulders were just there like the only shelter you'd ever need, and of course you wrapped your arms around his neck, and suddenly your goodbye kiss at the door moved inside the door, then behind the door, and then against the door.

And you don't find yourself regretting it at all.

Kissing Simon is every bit as wonderful as you had imagined. His mouth is warm and wet and you love a man who knows how to use his tongue - not bullying, but teasing, and when he scrapes his teeth across your lip something explodes in your brain.

Kissing Simon is better than you imagined.

Your fingers curl in the back of his hair and you push yourself against his erection, suddenly wishing you were a lace and skirt kind of girl, that you didn't have two layers of denim between you, because you aren't sure you've ever been this turned on, and how good would it feel to have his warmth pressed all the way against you?

There's no way you could possibly get either pair of pants off, not without stopping, and that's not an option you're ready to consider, so instead you grip him tighter with your thighs and let the ache between your legs grow, fluttering around nothing and getting wetter by the second, arousal seeping out.

It's a kiss that last eternity, but not long enough, because soon Simon is pulling away when he should stay glued against you forever, and you reluctantly lower your legs from their new favorite spot wrapped around his waist. He rests a forearm on the wall next to you like he needs grounding or he'll fall apart without it, and you melt just a little, grateful that your legs still seem work. He drops his forehead to your shoulder, both of you quiet and gulping as you reacquaint yourselves with the taste of air.

"Fucking hell, you are..." He lifts his head to search your face like he's not quite sure it's real. That you're real. "You are all woman, aren't you?" His voice is hoarse, and you don't know if it's supposed to be a question because you were the last time you checked - granted it has been a while - but honestly what does that even mean?

His lips are plump and thoroughly kissed, glistening - by you, you did that - and you have to rip your eyes away to form a sentence.

"Do you want to stay the night?"

Simon had held you against the wall like you weighed nothing, like he didn't even have to think twice about your thighs in his hands, about strength and leverage and slotting himself perfectly between your legs, and you are so, so weak - if he decides not to stay the night, you have absolutely no shame in getting yourself off to the memory of this alone later.

You can see it in the way he forcibly pulls himself back, tension warring with responsibility, that he wants to stay. Instead you watch him coil his desire like he has to weigh anchor to get away from you.

"I've got to work in the morning. I - I should go."

And you let him go, because you can be disappointed but respectful at the same time, but you give him a hug - not another kiss, no starting that, neither of you fully yourselves again - and a smile.

"Goodnight, Simon."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Returning to his graveyard of an apartment is hard. It's far emptier than he remembers it being when left a few hours ago. He hates that he left, but he really does have to get up early for an exercise with the recruits. And if it spared him a little longer, it wasn't such a bad thing.

You had felt right in his arms. Maybe even too right - you'd locked together like a scope to a well oiled rifle, flush and secure and so fucking perfect. He’d nearly come undone right there in your hallway, fully clothed like a teenager, and what an unimpressive end to the night that would have been.

He heads straight for a long, cold, useless shower, and does his damnedest to think about the logistics order. It’s midnight when he finally crawls into bed and sets his alarm for 0600.

Normally, Simon sleeps, if not well, at least on command – a side effect of military life. But he’s still thinking about what could have been fifty-seven minutes later, and he should have known better than to prolong the inevitable.

He's no stranger to an attitude adjusting wank. His palm isn’t particularly special or exciting, but it can usually get the job done well enough. Tonight, as he slides down the elastic of his sweats, he finds his imagination has returned with a vengeance.

He’s hard again and he hasn’t even touched himself.

He’d give anything right now to know what you felt like skin to skin. If your nipples were sensitive – if he could make you come with his mouth alone, or if you preferred top or bottom – is that something he’s supposed to ask about? He wants to find out.

His cock jumps in agreement and he surrenders, gripping himself haphazardly and picturing you.

Not intimidated by him at all. Eyes glazed and full of soft noises. The way your thighs fit into his hands and how you’d felt when he pressed up against you – were you wet? If he had stayed, if he had gotten to touch - would you have wanted him as much as he wanted you?

He thrusts into his hand almost involuntarily at the thought, thinking of you pliant and willing and gasping his name – and suddenly he’s short of air and stifling the mess with the bedsheet.

0100.

Fuck.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When he comes over on Friday, both of you are a little shy - the afterimage from earlier very much on your minds. Quiet, deliberate, you sit together on the couch in silence, not moving towards each other, making stilted conversation about your day.

Eventually you give in.

"Simon..." It's not going get it out of your system - you can tell sex with Simon isn't a one time affair - but at least it would clear the air. "I have to be honest. The other night? That was basically the hottest thing that's ever happened to me." The confession is quiet, sheepish, and you can see him breathe a sigh of relief, big shoulders slumping back away from his ears - what did he think you were going to say?

"I can't stop thinking about it. I've been dreaming about jumping your bones all week. Do you want to go upstairs?"

Simon has never wanted anything more in his life. Not another magazine, or air support, or Soap to stop speaking in tongues. He chases you up the stairs, heart thumping in his chest like it's his first time.

It's not. He's had sex before - it's been a while (a long while), but he's not a virgin. It wasn't really good - he'd describe it as 'okay' sex, which makes him sound like a snob, but he has one of those inconveniently sized packages that require signature on delivery - too big for comfort for the women who were chasing burly soldiers like him.

Practically, it means your slow makeout session is...not so slow. Simon has your shirt off before you ever hit the bed, painting a path across your neck with his lips, and by the time you're comfortable, your pants have disappeared like you were never wearing any to begin with.

The only time he falters, hesitates at all, is when you finally wrap your hand around the bare length of him, everything exposed at last. He's got this look on his face like he's waiting for you to panic, the corner of his mouth turned up with a ready response.

You like a challenge, and while you won't tell him he exaggerated - he really, really didn't, you let him know you aren't scared off, either.

A cocky smile, and a spark in your eyes, you let him know how much you appreciate it. "I can take it. Or I'll die trying, which wouldn't be so bad, either."

It's amazing, that with all the blood in his engorged cock, that Simon still has enough left over to blush.

It's better, easier, especially this first time, with you on top, where you can control the pace, so you push at his chest (and what a chest it is - a bare hint of blonde fuzz, but mostly pecs you could eat and the cutest little man nipples you've ever seen.)

You have to pay for it with a kiss, but eventually Simon rolls over to his back, laid out for you in his full naked glory.

He’s not some narrow, stick figured man you cling to like a fire pole – wrapping yourself around Simon Riley is like wrestling a refrigerator, every inch of you spread wide to take him in. Your thighs nudge that much further apart and you can’t explain it but it brings a fresh surge of arousal – he’s got you split open and broken in half for him before he’s even in you.

And when he does - when he slots the throbbing head of himself against you, nudges in -

Your eyelashes flutter and you scrabble for purchase, nails biting into his chest as he slowly presses into you, savoring that first glide as he scrambles your brain.

There's no room for anything, any thoughts other than Simon, like he possesses your entire being, filling you with an exquisite stretch that makes you feel like you'll explode.

He’s not even doing anything special – this is sex at its barest, but it’s better than anything you’ve had before – the angle, the depth, knowing he could pick you up and flip you over without breaking a sweat.

"You are so obscenely hot. Do you know how good it feels to sit on you and not worry about breaking you?" You laugh breathlessly, because it's hard to find room for air when you're trying to relax around him.

He slides so easily in your slick, but your muscles fight it as you slowly sink deeper onto him, and you help as you much as you can, clenching and relaxing and adjusting a little at a time until there's nowhere else to go.

He moans, low and deep, clutching at your thighs - to make you stop or to make you keep going, he's not sure - and you can feel him twitch inside you. "Do - do you know how hot it is that you just....you took the whole thing? Taking my dick so well, I can't believe it."

His head drops back against the pillow, eyes shut like he's afraid he's dreaming, that if he opens them it may all end. But you're still there, looking at him like you're enjoying yourself.

You could spend all night here, speared on him, spread wide, filled to completion with his head hot and pulsing inside you, knowing you will be ruined for your stupid spindly men forever.

It takes a second for you even to think about moving, but eventually you inch your way into a slow glide.

Beneath you, Simon finds he can cant his hips just a bit, and your eyes really do roll back into your head which is fascinating so he does it again, and again, and your slow glide gets a little out of control -

You bounce and he thrusts and your rhythms are the perfect level of unaligned to have him slip out of you, catching the thickness of his head between your bodies on a hard downslide and suddenly he's lost, losing himself into the condom with a few jerks of his hips.

Ever a man of few words - a long, drawn out moan is all you get out of him, and you help him finish, as unsatisfying as it might be, with a few more rolls of your hips against where he's trapped, until he stills you with a hand to the thigh, spasming like he's been shocked.

Simon Riley, dethroned king of never p-in-v, has a new complex he'll never recover from. He drags your pillow over his face with both hands, like he would smother himself if he thought it would help.

“'M so sorry,” he mumbles from under the pillow. His chest and neck are flushing the most fascinating shade of red, and it’s so attractive – not to mention flattering – that you can’t imagine how anyone finds it in themselves to be offended.

Reassurance falls on deaf ears. You try, anyway, sliding off his softening cock as he shudders once more. “It doesn't happen all the time for women. I still enjoyed it.”

He hears you, but it’s wrong. It has to be wrong. Simon wants to learn how to make you come every time, possibly all the time, if you can stand it. Wants to see you shivering in ecstasy, mind full of nothing but him and how good he makes you feel.

If he could melt into the mattress and disappear, he would.

"I'll make it up to you," he promises, and you've no doubt about that. He seems like the kind of guy that takes commitment seriously.

Lying next to him, you pull the pillow gently away and nuzzle his neck, sliding a slow hand up his bare chest. He’s spent, limp and boneless. He should be basking in afterglow, and instead he looks miserable. Tormented.

What the hell, you’re a modern woman.

You roll half off the bed to snag something from the night stand and hold it up for his inspection. It’s a garish pink that hurts his eyes, but Simon can't look away. He understands what it is. Never seen one before, though. Definitely never seen it used.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little intimidated.

"Do you think you can hold on to me?" You dangle the vibrator from loose fingertips, and maybe you shouldn't tease him but you also need him to know it really isn't a problem - that A in B isn't the only way to have sex.

He finds it in himself to nod. His throat is tight and he wishes his body would respond to how badly he wants you, but despite his best attempts he remains limp. Dick dead to the world, and to you, and he almost wishes he could take a bullet, instead.

You straddle him again, supported by his knees behind you. It takes a little lift to get the angle right, but when you do the thick end of the vibrator slides in with no resistance. You know what you're missing, now, and it doesn't fill you nearly as well as Simon, but you smile at him because you can tell by the awed look on his face that you’re about to blow his mind.

You would be the first to admit it's not your usual strategy - this is a tactical vibrator, a high efficiency stress reliever that helps you sleep on restless nights. The thing has at least 10 settings and 3 intensity levels. You're only acquainted with two of those, but you know exactly how to make them work for you, and tonight that's what matters.

You guide one of Simon's hands to your hip, and the other to the button on the vibrator, and you hesitate - more bluster than confidence at this point, but he's got a way of making you feel like a sex goddess just by touching you with those hands that span half your ass, and you go straight to your favorite setting.

Convenient, that the slow ramp mimics exactly how you'd like to ride him, if he could last forever. The pulse burns through both of you, rumbling in his chest and sending lighting through your core.

His fingers splay across your hips, digging into the ample flesh, his torso so broad just straddling him takes you to a whole new level of arousal, and he helps you rock on the vibrator where it's pinned to his abs.

He's looking at you like you're the hottest thing he's ever seen, molten heat and promise in those dark brown eyes of his, and you can almost hear all the things he wants to do to you, and so you close your eyes and imagine it instead, imagine it's him you're riding, that you could watch him rut into you as careful, thoughtful Simon fucked you into oblivion.

"So good Simon, so close - " He doesn't understand why it's his name that escapes your lips - he's not doing much, just along for the ride, but somehow it makes him feel wanted and not like a dud.

Like he might still have a shot with you, that he didn't ruin this, and he's speaking before thinking for once in his life - "Give it to me, love, want to see you come."

It's enough. It's more than enough, tension rising in a flood and you need it now. Squeezing his flanks with your thighs, you lose all capacity for words, gasping for air, and you grab his hand and help him push the wand exactly where you need it until the heat rushes up and drowns you, making you shudder violently against him.

You have all of a half second before it becomes too much, and you nudge Simon's hand out of the way as you roll off him and yank out the vibrator in one go, flinging it over the edge of the bed, a problem for tomorrow.

You collapse facedown next to Simon like a ragdoll, gooey satisfaction still spreading through your limbs. It's silent except for the sounds of your breathing, and you sidle over to press up against Simon, to lay with your head on his chest.

He pulls you in tight, wrapping one of those massive biceps around your back, to comfort you or because he's afraid you'll disappear he isn't sure, but then you bite him, sink your teeth into the bare flesh of his pec - not hard, but it gets him out of his head.

"You're wonderful." You mumble, post-coital sleepiness coming in fast.

"You're...incredible," he whispers back. "That was... I don't even have words for that. Hell." He does have words, words like 'you're the best thing that's ever happened to me' and 'I only want to fuck you for the rest of my life', but he knows without being told that it is way too early for that.

Instead, the two of you fall asleep together, your leg tangled with his. When you wake up, he eats you out like he's never had a proper meal in his life, shows you with his mouth what he won't say yet.

You don't really need convincing, but you won't complain.

#simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost smut #cod fanfic

127 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 1 day ago

Text

WIP excerpt behind the cut; “the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“It usually involves taking care of the sub for a little while–like if they need to recover or if the Dom needs something to calm themselves down doing, for example–but there’s other ways and reasons to do it,” Tim says, stroking his hair just a little bit more carefully as Kon once again tries and fails to figure out what the fuck he’s feeling right now. “That’s just what most people think of first when it comes up. Supposed to just make it easier for everyone to come up and level out, basically.”

Tim’s been petting him all this time, Kon realizes, biting the inside of his lip again.

And then he realizes–Tim’s also been the only one talking to him about this. Like, the “polite intel-collecting/light interrogation” kind of talking, but definitely only Tim doing it. So, like–Tim thinks this is something to be careful about talking about, and apparently so does Bernard.

. . . weird, Kon thinks, ducking his head just enough to hide his mouth against his folded forearms as he bites his lip outright, and doesn’t know how he feels about that either.

He thinks maybe they’re doing that–“gentle” thing again, though, even though they’re not even actually fucking around right now. Like . . . like just being in bed together at all is reason enough to do it, or something. Like it’s just–like it matters enough to keep doing it either way.

Kon knows exactly how he feels about that, but that’d be a lot more than just “mortifying” to admit.

“Um . . . sorry,” he says, half-worrying about what Tim means by needing to calm himself down. The times he’s tried to Dom made him all anxious and nervy and filled his head up with even more useless circling thoughts than usual, so like . . . does that happen to Tim too? It hadn’t seemed like it was, but . . . “Should I be–doing something for you, you mean? Because I can–”

A flash of stress flickers across Tim’s face, and Kon cuts himself off and feels a little–stupid, maybe, like he’s said something wrong or just messed up something obvious or . . .

He bites his lip harder and a weird little–reflex, almost, has him glancing towards Bernard for . . . he’s not even sure why, just . . . Bernard would know what Tim needs right now, wouldn’t he? Like–he’d have to, right?

Bernard’s still just standing by the nightstand and the breakfast tray, but the moment Kon looks at him he gives an easy shrug, scoops up the middle plate, and manages to neatly deposit it in Tim’s lap even as he lays down on his other side, stretched out on his own stomach and propped up on his elbows. Kon feels–something, kind of, and thinks about how that puts them both kinda . . . parallel to each other, kinda. Just . . . mirrored, a little, both lying on either side of Tim where he’s sitting against the headboard.

That’s . . . kinda something he feels something about, yeah, but it’s another one of those “something”s he can’t seem to really pin down, because everything he thinks it’s making him feel is, like . . . not actually something that makes sense for him to be feeling.

Kryptonite, he remembers abruptly. Right. So like . . . that. That’s probably . . . why he thinks he’s feeling . . . that kind of thing. Like–how Kara was saying, and all.

Right?

“Yes, you should be lying right there and letting Tim fuss over you for a while,” Bernard informs him matter-of-factly, crossing his ankles behind himself and resting his chin in one hand. “He likes doing the fussing. Though personally post-subbing is literally the only time I don’t wanna cuddle, I just wanna eat the fridge and pass the fuck out on the couch, so it’s really always been an unfortunate waste of the opportunity for me and also, like, not Tim’s favorite way to spend a scene’s afterglow either.”

“Oh,” Kon says, mildly bemused by the idea of passing out on the couch after subbing instead of cuddling up with someone in bed. Like–wanting to pass out on the couch, at least. Like, that is just very much not how he feels after subbing, is all. But, well . . . if that’s all Tim needs from him . . . like, it’s not exactly an imposition or anything. “Seriously? Just . . . the fussing?”

“Seriously,” Bernard confirms with a nod without bothering to lift his chin from his hand. “He literally always wants to do the fussing. Like he is definitely the ‘needs to calm down’ guy, and also the ‘subtly make sure he didn’t accidentally hurt or upset you when you were too high on endorphins to communicate it’ guy.”

“Yeah, sounds like Tim,” Kon says, lifting his own head a little more again just to spare Tim a wry look. “‘Shit, that went way too well, lemme get all Bat-paranoia up in here and overanalyze the whole thing’.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Tim says, looking a little wry himself, and Kon–like, yeah, he’s teasing the guy about it, because when would he not take the opportunity to give Tim shit, but he still definitely feels some shit about the fact that Tim would bother worrying about him like that. Like–the “gentle” thing again, he guesses. It’s just . . . not something he needs, and obviously Tim knows that, because a) invulnerable and b) they’re literally just fucking around for the weekend, it’s not like they’re doing anything serious or whatever, but the fact that Tim’s bothering to do it anyway is just . . . yeah.

He just–doesn’t have to, is all. He doesn’t have to, but he still is. Still is, and still told his boyfriend to be.

“You are a total Bat, but fuck if I'm gonna complain about scorin’ some free attention,” Kon tells him with a teasing smirk. Even if “getting attention” wasn’t half the foundation of his core personality, getting Tim’s attention would still be a goddamn treat, any time. Like–it always is, seriously. So yeah, Kon is in no way above indulging in a little extra of it. As far as doing something for Tim, it’s basically the easiest thing the guy could possibly ask for. Normally Kon’d say it was the best thing the guy could possibly ask for, even, but given the radioactive gay space rock currently influencing his tastes and his preferred flavor of his favorite pastime, any current contenders for the “best” thing Tim could possibly ask for would definitely need the other’s dick to get involved again.

Like. To the fucking hilt levels of involved, specifically.

Definitely to the fucking hilt.

“Jesus, that noise is fucking adorable,” Bernard mutters under his breath, which is the only reason Kon notices himself purring again, which–oh. That wasn’t, like . . . on purpose or anything. Generally he tries to avoid any of the “don’t sound entirely human” vocal tics, though admittedly he probably does purr the most. Just, like . . . usually he decides to let himself do it, is all.

“Vegas party favors don’t do ‘adorable’, man,” he hums around another purr, because . . . well, Bernard seems like he’s kinda into the purring, so it’s not like he’s gotta, like–stop, or whatever. And Tim’s heard him do it before and not gotten weirded-out, so . . . so it’s whatever, yeah. No big deal or anything.

Anyway, it feels nice to, sometimes. Especially when he feels like this does it feel nice to.

And, like, extra-especially when Tim’s still petting his hair for it.

“I think I can literally feel the bed vibrating a little,” Bernard says, looking low-key delighted about it. “Definitely tell me how I earn this level of purring while TTK-cuddling, because that is very much my new goal for this long weekend.”

“Mmm, s’secret lore, man,” Kon hums, letting his eyes close as he settles in a little heavier against the bed with a pleased little buzzing feeling in his gut and along his skin. “You gotta grind enough hours to level up and earn it.”

“I will grind on you for all the hours that standard-build human stamina can handle and Konami code your ass if I gotta,” Bernard swears, and Kon laughs into his arms. Why is this dude so funny, Jesus.

“That sounds kinda fun, what’d that involve?” he muses speculatively.

“Some very specific and very decisive button-pressing, pretty much,” Bernard says, and Kon laughs again. “Maybe some converter cables and a rumble controller.”

Kon sniggers. Goddammit, the bastard really is so funny, what the fuck.

“I think the gay space rock’s done plenty of converting, but if you really wanna plug something in . . .” he hums, making a point of stretching out a bit more against the mattress, and accidentally purrs a little deeper without meaning to.

“Desperately, yes,” Bernard says, sounding very feeling about it. So like, that’s another nice little bit of flattery. “Hey babe, how long do I have to wait to plug and play with your bestie? Like, ballpark it for us.”

“Maybe eat breakfast first?” Tim suggests wryly. “I hear the chef makes pretty good waffles.”

“Honestly they’re pretty mid compared to the cake that’s currently taking up a truly impressive amount of real estate in this bed,” Bernard replies frankly, making a point of reaching across Tim’s legs to grab Kon’s ass and give it a pointedly appreciative jiggle as he says “cake”, and Kon laughs helplessly into his arms. But, like–also tilts his ass up into said hand, obviously. Like, just a little. Bernard’s nice enough to give it an appreciative squeeze in response to that, so Kon figures that’s a win. “On that note, Tim, your bed is just not worthy of this long weekend, you really should upgrade. Like, no rush or anything, just maybe by Valentine’s Day. Your birthday at the latest.”

At this rate, Kon isn’t gonna manage to stop laughing long enough to eat a single damn waffle.

#timberkon #timkon #konbern #timbern #kon el #conner kent #tim drake #bernard dowd #superboy #dc robin #wip: think pink #dom/sub

113 notes · View notes

its-luna-noel · 1 day ago

Text

bellesa house

episode 1, satoru & you (sensual)

"Welcome to Bellesa House, where we let performers tell us who they want to have sex with and why." pornstar!jjk men x pornstar!reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, pornstar!au, older reader & younger gojo (like mid-30s and mid-20s respectively), based on bellesa house, sensuality, sensual porn

word count: 2.8k next: episode 2, suguru & you

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hi there, here's another fic idea i just couldn't shake, based on bellesa house, a porn project w/ the above description. most scenes are split into one of three categories: sensual, passionate, or rough; so, each chapter will also be labeled as such! (if you're a porn person and haven't checked out bellesa, this is my psa). next up is geto:) thanks for reading!

You’re propped up in a bed with half a dozen pillows, dressed in blue lacy lingerie, staring down a camera on a tripod.

It’s something you’ve done hundreds of times.

You give the camera your performer name, offering a coy little smile that’s become your signature. You’ve been doing porn for years now, and when the production team came to you to pilot a new concept – to play house with another performer of your choosing – you, of course, chose Satoru Gojo.

A young buck on the scene, he’s only been in a couple dozen videos total, but he’s already the new heartthrob at the studio, with his big, charming smile and pretty blue eyes. You’ve heard he’s good, too, fantastic on camera and a sweetheart off it.

Satoru chose you because he thinks you’re hot.

Hey, he’s always had a thing for older women, and he knows you’re not that much older than him, but it still makes him hard to think of what you could do with all that experience. It also feels good to know you want to fuck him too as he climbs into the bed for his own interview.

“So,” begins the director, smiling past the camera to the young rising star on the bed, “how are you feeling, knowing the first time you meet your co-star will be here on camera?”

Satoru shrugs his muscular shoulders, smiling a little. “It’s not that different from what I usually do; most of the time we meet on set and an hour later we’re in the middle of a scene. So, I’m not too uncomfortable with it.”

“How does it feel to be working with an industry favorite?”

He chuckles, then, his smile growing as he lowers his eyes, playing almost bashful. “That’s a little more intimidating, I guess. Obviously I’ve seen her work; I just hope I can live up to the great stuff she puts out.”

The video cuts to your interview, to your teasing smile at the camera as you lean back casually against the pillows, looking decadent in your lingerie. The director speaks again from behind the camera, “So, when we bring him in here, do you think you guys will talk, will you get straight to it…?”

You hum thoughtfully, that same smile still curling your lips as you tilt your head. “The young ones are always so eager to get started and skip the awkward introductions, so I’m guessing we’ll just dive in. But who knows! Maybe he’ll surprise me.”

“Alright, well, the next time that door opens, he’ll be coming in, and you guys can do whatever you want!” Your director gives you a supportive thumbs up from behind the camera; she trusts you to make whatever you do together good. You’ve never let her down before. Then, “Action!”

The sleek white door swings open, and there stands Satoru, feigning a casual air with his hands in the pockets of his joggers. He’s got that smile on his face, and you can’t help but return the expression as you wave him in encouragingly. “Hi!” you greet enthusiastically, propping yourself up on your knees on the bed.

Your comforting air seems to put him a little more at ease; he walks in, easing himself onto the edge of the bed beside you. His pretty blue eyes take in the set of lingerie you’re wearing – something that matches those eyes. You look amazing, so fucking sexy he’s already growing hard at the sight of you. Then he looks back up at your face, finding you still smiling, and he smiles back before leaning in slightly. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says softly, and you both giggle a little, clearly letting your nerves run a little higher now that you’re meeting each other for the first time.

You lean in, too, still laughing softly, until your nose brushes his. “Nice to meet you, too,” you whisper, and then you part your lips, inviting him to meet you halfway.

He does, his lips pushing against yours, already hard and desperate. You can tell he’s still a little nervous, diving right in instead of pacing himself for the camera, and so you put a gentle hand on the side of his face, fingers stroking the strong line of his jaw. You’re trying not to intimidate him, but that’s hard when you have over a thousand videos under your belt and he has maybe 20. He feels your touch and understands, wants to follow your lead, so he tries to shake himself and slow down.

It’s just a scene, doesn’t matter that she’s the sexiest and most experienced co-star he’s ever had.

His lips slow against yours, now taking the time to taste your mouth, your minty fresh breath and the berry chapstick you have on. Your tongue is phenomenal, slipping against his with practiced ease as you lick into his mouth, and he licks right back with the vitality and enthusiasm of a young performer.

You’ve almost forgotten what that spark feels like. A similar one, after years of being dormant, flares to like deep in your belly.

You kiss for a couple minutes before you let your hand wander from the side of his face, down his neck, to his torso. His chest and belly are muscular under his t-shirt, and you can feel every subtle tightening of those muscles while you touch him. His hands follow, coming to rest on your bare arms, bringing you closer to his body. You arch your back, curving into his chest while he continues to kiss you, and then you move your touch from his belly down to the hard bulge in the front of his sweatpants.

You can tell by feel that he’s one of the bigger men you’ve worked with.

He lets you touch him unhindered for a few moments before he brings his own fingers down to stroke between your thighs, feeling a spreading wetness on the thin fabric of your panties. You both focus on heavy petting for a while, getting each other aroused while your mouths continue moving against each other.

You have to hand it to him; he’s good at what he does.

Once you’re finally wet and feeling ready to take the scene further, you gently push him backwards onto the bed, crawling over him until you’re straddling his hips. You pull away from the kiss enough to smile down at him, and he smiles back, seeming dazzled by you as you dip your fingers into the elastic waistband of his joggers. You pull those down first, and he helps you get them free of his ankles before you toss the fabric aside onto the floor.

You can see the imprint of his dick against his boxers, and now you’re pretty sure he’s one of the biggest you’ve seen. It’s a pleasant surprise; no wonder he’s a rising star on the scene.

You lean forward, pressing your cheek to his thigh, nuzzling playfully and grinning up at him. “You ready?” you ask, for his benefit, knowing it’ll be edited out in post.

He chuckles quietly, and your tummy flutters at the sound; he’s got a good laugh, too. He brushes your hair into one hand, gently guiding your mouth towards the straining bulge of his cock. “Ready,” he confirms.

You grip the waistband of his tight, Calvin Klein boxer briefs and slowly, achingly, pull them down his legs.

You let yourself take a good look as you toss aside the fabric, assessing how much work you’ll have to put in; a lot, is the answer. He’s massive, long and pink and beautiful. Mouthwatering. You’re practically drooling as you settle between his legs and, glancing up at him through your lashes, let your tongue slip out from between your lips and take a taste.

He lets out a soft sigh, eyes watching your every move as you start licking his tip, short little laps that drive him crazy. His hand tightens in your hair, just enough to signal to you that he’s ready.

Or, he thought he was.

When you lean in and take him in the hot, wet cavern of your mouth, he’s already seeing starts at how fucking good your tongue feels swirling around his head. You bring your hands up and grip the base of his cock, squeezing lightly, before you take him a little deeper.

Satoru can’t hold back moans so whiny it’s almost pathetic; you’re sucking him off so well, both hands stroking his length slowly as your mouth bobs over his blushing tip, cheeks hollowed like you want to suck him dry. Then you move your hands and dive down until he’s shoved as far down your throat as you can take, staying there for a moment as your throat closes down around him on every side. His head drops back to the pillows as he lets out another whine, and then you pull back, hands coming back to his base as you suck the tip.

It feels so fucking good that he’s scared he’s gonna cum already.

So he pulls you off of him, guiding you down onto your belly on the bed. “Arch for me,” he murmurs in your ear, and you do, back arched so beautifully that he can’t wait to watch the tape on his own time and screenshot this pose for him to keep. He grabs the back of his shirt and yanks it off, leaving his muscular body on display for the cameras as he pushes your lacy blue panties to the side, arousal already drenching the thin fabric and sticking it to your pussy.

He hums in delight at the sight of your gorgeous folds, and he leans in, pressing a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your lower lips, like he’s making out with your cunt from behind. You let out a moan into the mattress, arching further to force your hips back into his face. He grins against you before grabbing the flesh of your hips, holding you in place while he pushes deeper, past your outer folds to lick a line of heat from your clit to the lower corner of your pussy. Then he moves his mouth back to your clit, his nose bumping against the wet entrance to your cunt while his tongue laps greedily at it. His hands move down to grab the fat of your ass, thumbs spreading you apart to expose you more to his mouth and eyes while he eats you out from the back.

You’re making such delicious noises, not just for the camera, but because his mouth is just that good. He hums again, this time with your clit against his tongue, before he takes the swollen bundle between his lips and sucks softly. Your hips jolt against his face, and he lets go with a lewd pop, before flicking his tongue over your clit again, taking his time to work you up towards your orgasm.

“Oh my god…” you breathe, lashes fluttering as your eyes close to the ecstasy. “Feels so good…”

“Yeah?” he mumbles into your cunt, eyes closed, too, as he tastes how fucking sweet you are. “Want something to cum on?”

You moan at his words, hips bucking backwards again, like you’re trying to chase down your high… He pulls away before you can get there, grinning cheekily when you whimper. “Aww,” he croons, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before grabbing your hips and rolling you over onto your back, “it’s okay. I’ll make you cum; I promise.”

“You better,” you tease back, reaching up to slide the straps of your bodysuit off your shoulders and down your arms, pooling the lace around your waist, “or I’ll be very disappointed in you.”

He takes the fabric the rest of the way off, still grinning as he looks at your perfect body, one he’s seen in dozens of videos with his hand wrapped around his own cock, making himself cum to the sound of your moans. It’s a dream come true to be filming with you, and he lets himself remember that fact before he leans over you, reaching down to align himself with your dripping, fluttering entrance. He glances into your eyes for a moment, checking that you’re alright, and the look in your eyes is such a clear affirmative that he can’t hold back anymore.

He pushes inside you slowly, both of you letting out soft, broken moans in unison as he sheaths himself in you.

Then, once he’s fully seated inside you, your cunt squeezing around him, so wet and warm and fucking perfect, he pulls back and starts to fuck you slowly, sensually.

He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his hips, and your heels press into his ass with every thrust, holding him that much closer, that much deeper. He groans, lips parted as he pants softly, his hips rocking in smooth, fluid motions.

Your lips are parted, too, as you reach down to rub your clit with the pads of your fingers, drawing aching circles– Satoru bumps your hand away and takes over for you. “Let me,” he pants, watching your reaction as your head falls back against the pillows with another moan. He groans at the sight and leans in, placing soft, adoring kisses to the column of your throat, to the edge of your jaw, to the curve of your cheek… All the while rubbing those perfect circles on your clit.

Your pussy is starting to clench around him. “Oh my god,” you whine, throwing your head back, and the performance isn’t even for the cameras anymore, it’s for him, to let him know how good he’s making you feel. Every thrust puts him right at your g-spot, and his fingers have the perfect pressure on your clit, a catastrophic combination of sensations that’s quickly sending you towards the edge. “Please don’t stop.”

He keeps kissing towards the corner of your mouth. “Cum for me,” he says, and then he presses his lips to yours, claiming your tongue with his as he fucks you through your orgasm. You moan and whine into the kiss, your cunt clenching and spasming around his cock, and he groans against your mouth at the feeling of you sucking him even further inside you.

Fuck, he’s not gonna last like this.

So he rolls you over onto your tummy again, even though your legs are still weak and shaky from your climax, and presses you down into the mattress with gentle hands. He spreads your legs for you, angling your hips right where he wants you, and then he leans over your body, palms planted firmly on either side of your shoulders to hold his weight above you before he starts rocking back into your perfect fucking pussy.

His shoulders are heaving with the effort to hold back, to not cum after two seconds like this, but his eyes are trained on how your ass conforms to the shape of his hips with every thrust, and the curve of your back looks like the perfect bullseye for his cum–

He groans, pulling out before he can accidentally empty himself inside you. Then he strokes himself, his hand pumping over the wet, sensitive head of his cock as he stares at your fluttering pussy, wishing he could’ve cum there– maybe next time– With a choking sound and breathless moans, he watches pearly ropes of his seed shoot out over the smooth skin of your back.

When he catches his breath, he can’t help but pull up short. Wait, next time??

Once you’re showered and dressed in street clothes again, walking out of the studio with your bag over your shoulder, you hear a familiar voice behind you. “Hey! One sec.”

You turn, a smile already on your face as you recognize Satoru’s voice. His hair is still wet from his shower, too, hanging damp in front of his shining eyes. “Hey,” you respond, smiling as he walks over. “Great job today. You’ve got a great career ahead of you, you know.”

“I know,” he says, not arrogantly, just as a fact. But he doesn’t want to talk about that now. He looks a little nervous as he shifts from one foot to the other. “I just wanted to say thanks for…choosing me to work with you today. I had a lot of fun.”

Your smile spreads a little wider. “Me, too,” you tell him, and then you turn your back, because you’re already late for dinner with your friends. “See you around!”

“Wait!” he calls again, and you stop, surprised. You turn and blink up at him.

“Uh, this might sound dumb…but can I get your number?”

thanks for reading! -luna xx link to ao3 | next: suguru & you

#banners by cafekitsune #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #fanfiction

65 notes · View notes

curly-fry-3 · 1 day ago

Note

i have a request. I don't know if they are still open but here we go. Dean x reader, where reader is possessed and tries to kill the brothers, but they exorcise her. She has weak health so when the demon is out, she gets ill. Fluff after that. Love your writing!

𖦹Possessed𖦹

summary𖦹 You get possessed and Dean takes care of you

pairing𖦹 Dean Winchester x Reader

word count𖦹 1,190

notes𖦹 I hope you like this. this is my first time writing a fight scene so it might not be spectacular. also just fyi, learned this the hard way, writing someone who's possessed it HARD

also I didn't fully proofread it, I kinda skimmed it (sorry its like midnight and I have school tomorrow lol)

Holy shit. This is probably the worst you've ever felt. Being trapped in your mind with no control over your actions, demons suck. Of course you would be targeted, being close with the Winchesters always got you in trouble–damn Dean and his charming smile that lured you in. You and Dean had been together for almost a year, you two had met through Bobby when he needed help translating some ancient spell. Of course Dean hit on you like there was no tomorrow and of course you fell for him and you've been going strong ever since. You help Dean and Sam with researching and questioning people for information. Dean would die before he let you actually fight, especially because you already got sick so easily, he didn't want more strain on your body. That's how the demon had found you.

You were walking back to the motel after questioning the victim's husband. It was dark out and you had this creepy feeling, like someone was watching you. You had quicked your steps, hoping to get back to the motel–and Dean–before something could jump out at you. Unluckily for you, you were being watched by a demon, and you would never be able to outrun it. When the black smoke entered you and you were no longer in control, your body continued to head to the motel–to Dean and Sam. You tried to take control of your body, you have no idea what you would do to them but you know it wouldn't be good, but you weren't strong enough.

Soon you made it to the motel and walked through the door, strolling in like nothing was wrong. Sam was sitting at the small table near the door on his laptop and dean was laying in your shared bed reading up on some lore. When you enter Dean looks up and smiles at you in greeting “hey babe, any leads”

“Oh no nothing” the demon said, taking of your suit jacket and shoes and sitting on the bed next to dean

Dean looks at you confused “sweetheart, is something wrong”

“What, no, why” the demon responds, pretending to be just as confused

His face hardens as he gets up from the bed and stands against the nightstand, reaching for the demon blade in the top drawer behind his back. “You're not her”

Sam is listening in on the conversation and immediately goes into battle mode when he hears Dean's tone. He stands up as well and reaches for his gun on the table next to him, silently sizing you up.

When the demon realizes it's been found it drops the innocent act and you stand up facing the boys, getting ready to fight them. “Oh you're very observant, Dean, you know I thought I had about an hour till you figured me out…guess I'm not that great of an actress.” The demon says, with a sinister smile on your face. “Oh well, i'll still get to kill you two” You look over to sam. “Don't try and pull a fast one, I know you don't wanna hurt this little meatsuit.” You turn back to dean “especially you ... .you know, her first thought when I took over for her was that she didn't wanna hurt you…so sweet it makes me sick. You two are just gross.”

Dean look at you with a warning gaze “don't you dare hurt her, you son of a bitch”

The demon chuckles “oh, baby, you're gonna be the one doing all the damage”

A look of realization flashes over Dean's face and he drops the demon blade in his hand–he would never hurt you. You pull out the knife from your belt and lunge at him. He dodges your attack, tripping you, and you end up on the floor, Your knife across the room, with him standing over you, Sam in his duffle bag getting holy water. From your position on the motel carpet you quickly kick upwards, hitting Dean in the balls. While you're getting up, Sam comes over and you punch the back of his knee, making him bend forward–losing his balance. Before you can get far, Dean has recovered from his hit and grabs you and pins you down. “Sam now!”

Sam splashes you with holy water and begins exorcizing you. If you thought being possessed sucked, being exorcized was ten times worse. By the time it was done you were so weak you couldn't home yourself up. Thankfully Dean was holding you. “Shit, baby I got you”

You look up at him weakly with tears in your eyes “I'm so sorry. I tried to take control, I really tried.”

Dean gently lays you down on the bed, giving Sam a look saying that he needs some alone time with you. He brings his attention back to you as Sam heads outside and you continue to apologize. “Sweetheart, it's not your fault” he starts taking care of you, changing you out of your FBI uniform and into your pajamas. “Don't, even for a second, think that it's your fault” He pauses after you're dressed and wipes the tears from your eyes as you're propped up on the pillows. “Are you comfortable baby? I know that was a lot for you.”

“I'm so tired, my body aches” You complain looking up at him with red rimmed eyes “I didn't wanna hurt you”

He looks at you with a reassuring smile “trust me, you didn't”

“But i kicked you in the balls” you say concerned

He grimaces at the memory,“And I handled it” Dean sits on the bd next to you and rubs your calf comfortingly, “do you need anything”

“I just want you to hold me” you answer, pulling him down into your embrace

He immediately reciprocates your hug, wrapping you in his warm comforting arms, You let out a deep breath of air in relief, your achy muscles already feeling better. When Dean gets situated next to you melt into his arms and rest your head on his chest. “Better?” He asks

“Way better” you confirm. “You always make everything better”

He softly smiles at your statement and kisses the top of your head. He rubs your back in soothing, comforting motions. “I try”

You look up at him guiltily, “I should be the one comforting you, I tried to kill you”

He shakes his head in disagreement, “that wasn't you. And besides, you're way too weak to do any comforting. That demon did more damage to you than me.”

“I still feel bad” you look away, sheepishly

Dean playfully rolls his eyes and his hand stops its movement on your back. “Dont…I love you ok…I just wanna make sure your ok”

You look back to him “I love you too”

Not needing to say anything else, you curl back up into him and his hand resumes it's comforting pattern. Sure, being close with the Winchesters made you a target to monsters across America, but Dean was always there to protect and comfort you.

You kiss Dean's chest then mutter into his shirt, “I really need to get that anti possession tattoo.”

sorry if there are any typos

love y'all

#supernatural #dean winchester #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #fanfic #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanart #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fluff #supernatural fic #reader insert #fem reader

64 notes · View notes

dilidos · 2 days ago

Text

Someone in the behind the scene interview of episode 2 (I think it was Dan Erickson?) called Cobel an eccentric genius and that was an epiphany to me. Everyone agrees she's unhinged and scary, but I haven't thought of Cobel in the context of her intelligence. I blame this on my unconscious bias. I have seen a lot of eccentric male geniuses in the media (Sherlock, House, Will Graham, Elliot Alderson, ect) but not a lot of female ones. Despite her frequent crash-outs, Cobel displays so many cunning traits. In season 1 she always seems to be 3 steps ahead of everyone, able to make use of resources and takes unconventional paths to achieve her goal. She's a social chameleon who knows how to conceal or accentuate her presence according to the situation and effectively adopts multiple personas. That scene when she made Devon laugh while pretending to be her lactation nurse scared the shit out of me because she has a sense of humor but it's tailor-made for Devon, do you know what I mean? Cobel can be anything she put her mind into. Every decisions she made seemed so on the fly but also calculated. Noone can figure out what her fucking deal is.

I think another major reason why I didn't see Cobel as a genius is because of her devotion to Kier. My thought process goes: crazy religious lady = unscientific = low intelligence, which is obviously not true but is what I'm conditioned to believe. Every eccentric genius has their weird vice. Sherlock has his cocaine addiction and Cobel has her cult. On an unrelated note (warning: inane theory tangent ahead), she also has the whole mysterious tragic backstory thing going on based on the shrine in her room. The green breathing tube hints at a death of a loved one. Maybe her goal is to revive them through project Cold Habor, and her obsession with Mark isn't a sexual thing (100% not, definitely) or even a Kier thing. Mark is just a tool for her to reach her goal. She's a wild card and will definitely change the game in this season now that her loyalty to Lumon is starting to crack.

Anyway, back to the main subject, what I'm trying to say is, Cobel is unpredictable, manipulative, neurotic, and worst of all, extremely obsessive. Those are the cornerstone of the eccentric genius archetype, which is like, one of the hottest and most popular media archetypes out there. If everyone can go crazy for Dr House I think they should call Cobel their little mew mew too. I guess this is a note to self that I should be more insane over Cobel.

#severance #harmony cobel #for the first time ever being a boy lover has failed me #im so mad at myself if the gender is flipped i would be thinking about her 24/7 #shes short she has a terrible fashion sense shes throws things when shes angry #she calls granner daddy which is fucking insane #she sings kier choir songs but also listens to country rock? like how the fuck? the layers?#did she actually believe in the medicinal power of chamomile cookies or was she just that committed to the bit?

68 notes · View notes

antiguagealach · 3 days ago

Text

Time for one of my theories 👀

At the end of the season we discover that Captain Park actually works for the Frontman. Hasta ahí bien, now, was he the one who snitch about Gi-hun's tracker?

I think no. Why? Because when Jun Ho tells him about the tracker, Gi-hun is about to start the first game. And at that moment, the boat is already following the bait tracker.

My theory is that there is someone else who works for the Frontman and I believe is the leader of the military, Kim.

In the scene when Gi-hun and Jun-ho meet the military, they are all there when Woo-seok says to Gi-hun: “Nothing is going to happen. You've got your tracker. Where ver you're taken, we'll be right behind you.”

Kim, like the rest of the military, listens it. So he had enough time to warn the Frontman about the tracker.

It is true that they fell into the trap, but how many of the military know about the betrayal? Maybe just Kim. He doesn't care if two of his team die to hide the truth.

Just look that face. He is afraid of something 👀 a bomb, maybe?

That's why he didn't open the door. He didn't even let Jun-ho do it, because he also had orders not to hurt him.

Think about it, do you think In-ho would set up a bomb door knowing that Jun-ho could open it? No, he knew that Jun-ho wasn't going to open it because the leader was going to make sure he didn't.

I don't know if the captain and Kim know that they are on the same team, nor if it was Kim who also warned about the persecution on Halloween night.

But I'm sure there's one more mole on that ship and I'm 90% sure that it's Kim.

And therefore another babysitter for Jun-ho. If this ends up being true, I would love to know that In-ho took care to provide so many babysitters for his brother. He watches over him from the shadows

#sorry for my english #I don't know if anyone has said this before #hwang in ho #hwang bros #hwang jun ho #captain park #squid game 2 #squid game

54 notes · View notes

kathrahender · 3 days ago

Text

Anyone else think we were robbed with Strickler and Jim's relationship? Don't get me wrong, I love Trollhunters as much as everyone in this fandom, but I think we should have got many more scenes between them.

And I'm not talking just about showing how much it hurt them to fight against each other (because I refuse to believe they didn't feel pain behind all that anger towards each other) but also about showing scenes about how their bond slowly healed.

Season 1 was good showing their relationship. I liked how they changed from trusting in each other, to fight against each other in episode 11 and episode 13 (apart from the second part of the season with Strickler woke up Angor Rot and its consequences), to have to become allies to defeat Angor Rot.

Season 2 wasn't so good for me because Strickler wasn't there, and I have to admit that it would have been better if they brought him back earlier. I'm not saying they should have brought him back in the first episode, but not in the last neither.

Season 3 was... interesting. I mean, I liked how Strickler trained Jim to defeat Gunmar and all the scenes they had together, but I think the season should have been a little more longer to explore better Strickler and Jim's relationship.

Besides, maybe I'm gonna say something controversial, but they should have given more depth to Strickler and Jim's relationship than Stricklake. Like everytime Strickler and Jim interact they seemed to make it about Stricklake and like??? Strickler and Jim are more than their relationship with Barbara. Don't get me wrong, I don't say this because I hate Stricklake (my opinion on them is neutral) but I only wanted Strickler and Jim to have more scenes centered in the healing of their bond.

For example, in Bad Coffee, why did they have to make it about Barbara? Why Jim couldn't bring Strickler back saying something about their broken bond? (or maybe keep the scene of the gravesand as it was but add another scene, where Jim was affected by Strickler's words under the gravesand and Strickler assured him that he returned for Jim too)

#toa #trollhunters #toa trollhunters #tales of arcadia #tales of arcadia trollhunters #trollhunters strickler #strickler #walter strickler #stricklander #jim lake #jim lake jr

47 notes · View notes

deathon1leg · 11 hours ago

Text

byler & yellow curtains (inspired by this incredible post by @love-byers)

i wanted to contribute some of my own findings (which i’m sure have all been pointed out before—i’m no genius discoverer) and personal analysis!!

this post got way longer than i thought it would, but i kept noticing more things to talk about. it’ll be s4 focused but i have some from other seasons too if anyone’s interested in another post :)

mike and el’s fight:

outside of el’s room you can see yellow/orange curtains through jonathan’s door, and some of el’s window through hers. when mike goes in, the window is the brightest and most vibrant thing by far and its curtains are WIDE open. when he goes to put a plate down the left curtain is almost perfectly between them, dividing them like a wall.

at first she doesn’t look at him, so only we (and not mike) get to see her face, which is cast in light and a bit out of focus. (also, the yellow-green tree she’s putting back together for her diorama is peaking out in the corner.)

the bottom two pics are el’s POV, hence the blurry background mike—she feels disconnected from/misunderstood by him.

when she finally turns around is when she’s talking about being different and not belonging anywhere (which, while in an entirely different way, mike can relate to). the light hardly hits her face anymore because it’s shifted to mike’s POV. he sees her in shadow.

the next time we get a full shot of the window is when el says mike can’t even write “i love you”, when she stands in front of it and it frames her.

i wanna point out mike’s face here. he looks so—guilty? afraid? vulnerable? just more genuine than he does the rest of the fight. he knows he’s been caught, and he doesn’t have an excuse (which is why he ends up deflecting and calling her ridiculous)

when el grabs the letters, the window is between them, separating them, and a curtain is directly behind her. also, she says “from mike” or “from” a total of 7 times. coincidence? idk. maybe i’m reaching.

the window/curtains take up a whole half of el’s shot here, and are still “between” them in continuity—it’s as if they’re another character interrupting the shot, just like will did many times in s4 m*leven scenes.

a few lines before “they’re nobodies and you’re a superhero” mike says “you know what i think of you, you’re the most incredible person in the world”. it comes across as ‘i think you’re the most incredible person because you’re a superhero’.

i think el’s “not anymore” is a response both to “you’re a superhero” and the “you know what i think of you”, because this is when she comes to the conclusion that mike doesn’t see her as the most incredible person anymore, and that mike loved her powers/his idea of her rather than her as a person (i do believe mike cares for her a ton and loves her as a friend, but this is el’s perspective) .

her expression changes as she realizes these things, and mike can tell he didn’t convince her.

mike’s talk w/ will about his and el’s fight:

will paces back and forth in front of the yellow/orangeish curtained window in jonathan’s room, venting about everything. it’s not actually a curtain but a sheet/tapestry, so it doesn’t do much at all to block the bright light. (note the bright lava lamp, too.) mike’s not really listening, and is instead staring at the note el left: Dear Mike, I have gone to become a superhero again. From, El

mike knows what el’s saying here. ‘superhero’ = a version of herself that mike can love again, and ‘from, el’ = her acknowledging he doesn’t love her (again, el’s pov) OR implying she doesn’t love him anymore, either. imo it’s a coded breakup/pre-breakup.

this is preoccupying his mind enough that he’s not paying attention to will talking about the very serious situation they’re in.

the note is a symbol of mike’s lack of romantic feelings for el, which lead to the deeper truth of his true romantic feelings for will. with that in mind, here’s what will says when it cuts away from mike looking at the note:

i audibly gasped when the cogs turned in my brain while collecting these screenshots

textually, he’s talking about hawkins here, but COME ON. if we read between the lines…

imagine will’s rhetorical “you” is actually directed at mike—which is easy to do since he’s the only other person in the room—who’s currently staring at the symbolic note.

the thing that needs to be kept contained is mike’s feelings for will, which cannot be contained at all without el. she’s his cover, his beard, his excuse to not face what he’s trying to suppress.

the window appears even brighter when the camera focuses on will.

after this, mike absentmindedly responds with “yeah,” and will notices how distracted mike is, saying:

AKA, if you keep ruminating on your feelings they’re not gonna change, you know?

so, he crumples up the note and throws it in the trash.

this means one of two things: 1. he’s choosing to continue to ignore and “get rid of” his real feelings, or 2. he’s accepting that his feelings won’t change, and is gonna stop trying to get rid of them.

considering the wide open door/‘closet’ behind him, the poorly concealed window, and the “i didn’t say it” “you didn’t have to” scene that comes later (‘it’ being ‘i love you’, as established here, and this convo being coded as also about mike and will’s fight)… i’d bet on option 2. then again, contradictory things happen later, so it may be a mix of both 1 and 2.

a single proper ray of light is peaking through the window, and it’s landing right on a green (blue+yellow, but you knew that) chair, pointing towards them.

even though they’re talking about mike and el’s struggles, will is in the forefront of this shot. he’s lit up by the window’s light, and even though mike doesn’t see that side of his face i believe it’s from mike’s pov.

note the red (el’s color) lamp by will’s head signifying that he think the convo’s just about her, and the yellow potted plant below it that the lamp would be shining on if it were on. (also note the upside down cross next to mike, showing that he feels his feelings for will are “blasphemous”.)

suzie’s room:

this one’s one of my favorites. after eden tells them where suzie is she says “make sure to give that selfish little four-eyed shit a nice little shove for me”. they get to her room but she’s not there.

mike’s, in the front, is first to notice the window, which has open yellow curtains w/ blue trim. the window itself is open, with a gentle breeze and birdsong flowing through it as delicate music plays.

it continues to zoom in on mike as he says this. the door’s open behind him. for some reason or another we’re supposed to focus on mike’s reaction to the window.

“give ‘her’ a shove” as in shove ‘her’ out the window—it’s open, it’s beautiful, it’s calling out to mike, he just needs a shove. and whaddaya know, in the next shot…

mike was the first to stick his head out the window, and is still in the forefront. the sun gets in his eyes and he squints and dodges it a few times, but then he smiles. he doesn’t regret it.

and just ‘cause, here’s another shot where mike and will are perfectly framed by suzie’s yellow-beige curtains:

mike and will talk about el and vecna:

in the top one, they each have a window behind them again. the whole house is filled with windows (w/ open yellowish curtains or shades) and just straight up holes in the wall, and unobscured sun rays come through practically every one of them.

the little curtains in the top left are green-ish and look blue from afar. here, sunshine pours onto will, and mike is exactly right outside of the ray—look at his arm and shoe.

will explains that he can still feel vecna’s presence and that they need to kill him. with (yet again) yellow curtains behind him, mike says:

he crosses the distance and puts his hand on will’s shoulder, and the light hits it.

mike’s in the light now—his arm, at the very least. he reached out into it with intent, giving himself a shove, and now they’re sharing the same ray of sunshine. when they hear a car approaching they look behind themselves at the window, acknowledging it, and then they get up to look outside it.

aaaaand that’s it. i hope you enjoyed this post <3 i spent way too much time on it… disclaimer that i have no media education and this is all from my (untrained) perspective. i also don’t claim to be the first to discover any of this, i’m sure i’m late to the party for a lot of things here, so kudos to those more attentive than me. thanks for reading!! :)

#thank u op for the inspiration #go easy on me pls i’m not media educated </3 #byler #byler meta #byler analysis #byler endgame #st5 #curtaingate #is that a thing? if not i’m dubbing it #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things

54 notes · View notes

chuuyaspinkmotorcycle · 2 days ago

Text

Day 27: Corruption

Fuckkkk, Chuuya won’t miss the last time he has to use Corruption.

…/If/ that ever happens.

The amount of threats that actually need him to use it are far and few between nowadays, especially with the addition of Shin Soukoku’s new attacks that don’t render one of them half-dead like Soukoku’s, but every so often some bad guy sweeps through town strong enough to even have him and Dazai being summoned to the scene together.

Chuuya swallows, trying not to hack up a lung when a blood clot from his earlier bloody nose seeps down his throat. His clothes are beyond ruined at this point and his arms are too tired so he doesn’t even try to cover his mouth. The brick wall he’s been propped against is tilting a little too dangerously – from an earlier attack by someone’s ability – for his comfort, but it’s not like he can do much about it.

If the bricks fall, he’ll stop them. Maybe. Probably.

He just wants to go home and sleep for at least a whole day.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there. I leave Chuuya for two seconds and he’s trying to die on me again,” Dazai placates like he’s some /dog/, jogging the last few steps to him. The brunet is wearing Chuuya’s hat on his head and the fingers of one of the redhead’s black gloves sticks out from his coat pocket. Chuuya wipes the side of his mouth, watching as Dazai pulls a water bottle from his coat’s other pocket and uncaps it before handing it to him. “Don’t drown yourself~”

“Says the mackerel.” His voice comes out raspy, barely audible but the smirk Dazai sends him tells him the brunet heard. He takes a slow sip, breathing out a sigh before chugging as much as his body will let him.. Water has never felt as good as the times after Corruption, when his voice is scratched raw and just breathing is a chore for his windpipe. Clearing his throat to test it, he asks, “How much longer?”

“We’re free to go,” Dazai responds, waiting in front of him with his hands in his pockets. “Mori-san took your coat and has graciously given you a few days off as a reward for being such a loyal dog.”

Also known as ‘Dazai asked therefore Mori approved’ because God forbid Boss says no to ‘the Mafia’s final executive to come.’ As if that’s ever gonna happen.

Dazai’s smirk twists into that one that tells Chuuya he read his mind just then. “Chibi’s cranky.”

The redhead scowls back. “No shit, Sherlock. Hurry up and carry me already.”

“So feisty~ How does the pretty princess want to be carried?” Dazai squats in front of him, leaning within arms’ reach of Chuuya.

“I’m not– honestly, fuck you,” Chuuya grumbles, not even bothering to punch the other. “Do whatever you want, you shitty bastard.”

Of course, Dazai has the audacity to beam at this, already moving to adjust Chuuya into whatever way he wants. He swears he even hears a little giggle from the brunet as he shifts one of Chuuya’s legs.

It’s going to be a long walk back home.

Chuuya hisses as Dazai, still facing him, goes to move one of his arms behind his bandaged neck, the muscle pulling in a way that sears too much to be considered uncomfortable. “Wait–!”

“Where?”

“Bicep, close to delt,” he grits out, forcing himself to breathe as the knot or whatever is wrong with his arm continues to flare. Dazai points at the location given, dead-on in his accuracy. Chuuya manages to nod, watching as nimble fingers find the perfect spot to apply the right amount of pressure in massaging caresses that have shivers running down his spine.

He sucks in a breath when Dazai’s finger moves in just the right way to alleviate most of the pain in one go. After Chuuya releases a shaky sigh, Dazai looks up. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

Dazai returns to maneuvering him into the right position, wrapping Chuuya’s bloodied arms around his neck and scooping under his thighs. Dazai, right in his face, grins something young and fond. “Just like old times, partner.”

With that, he hoists them both up, Chuuya sinking further into his arms as Dazai steadies them. The pop Chuuya hears from his knee has him grimacing with a squint sent at Dazai, but the man doesn’t even stop to test if his scrawny bones can hold them up, instead marching forward in the direction of Chuuya’s apartment.

Fine. If Dazai wishes to play stubborn, then Chuuya doesn’t care (until Dazai either trips or his legs give out, that is).

With that thought, Chuuya settles in on Dazai’s shoulder, eyelids already drifting downwards.

They miraculously make it back to his apartment without Chuuya waking up, Dazai dropping him, or the both of them going splat on the concrete.

That’s a plus, Chuuya supposes.

If Dazai had tried this when they were around seventeen or eighteen, Chuuya’s sure one of them would have ended the night with a broken bone. The last time they had done this had to have been sometime after Corruption's first use, he realizes.

“Where does the slug wanna go?” Dazai asks as he fumbles with the door’s lock. Chuuya blinks his eyes open enough to do his security system’s retinal scan. There’s a click, a shuffle of clothes and doors, and the sounds of shoes hitting the genkan as Dazai pulls Chuuya’s off before taking off his own.

Chuuya hums. “Bed.”

“You’ll be mad if you wake up in a dirty bed.”

“Mornin’ problem.”

“So my problem,” Dazai huffs with a tsk.

Based on the twists and turns they’re taking, they’re heading towards the bedroom anyway. And just before Dazai can make it to the bed where Chuuya’s long desired rest awaits, the brunet swings to the left, eliciting a low whine from Chuuya as they head towards the attached bathroom.

“I know, I know,” Dazai starts, setting him on the counter to turn the sink’s faucet to hot as he grabs a hand towel. Chuuya continues to lean forward on his shoulder, forcing the man to stay in front of him. As the water heats up, Dazai starts prying the redhead’s bloodied clothes from his body. “We’ll take a bath tomorrow. Just a quick cleanup to get most of the blood off and then you can sleep to your heart’s content.”

Chuuya’s already beginning to doze off when he mumbles back, “With you.”

A pause, the shoulder beneath his head stiffening before it slowly comes to relax again. A bandaged hand comes up to rest at the back of Chuuya’s head as the faucet is shut off. “With me.”

Dazai makes quick work of wiping the dried blood from Chuuya’s face and body, delicate but precise, and afterwards in the bedroom dresses the redhead in his softest pajamas. Chuuya always runs cold after using Corruption so he takes precaution, even if it means there’s potential for Chuuya to wake up annoyed because he got too hot.

After tucking Chuuya in the bed – and far enough in the middle of it to guarantee the slippery slug doesn’t fall off of it with his hazardous sleeping positions – Dazai recleans the bathroom, removing his own bandages and clothes in the process.

He steals a pair of oversized pajamas that Chuuya claims he “accidentally bought and was too lazy to return,” then slips into bed beside the other.

When Chuuya wakes in the morning, it’s to warm arms and the sound of a heartbeat against his ear, beating in tandem with his own.

#soukoku #dazai x chuuya #skk #skktober #chuuya x dazai #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #malaikawrites #day 27

47 notes · View notes