#but the truth is they are BOTH!!! ITTY BITTY. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oftenderweapons · 2 years ago

Text

In Your Calvin's | JJK

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)

Wordcount: 9.6k

Genre: smut, fluff, pwp, established relationship

Rating: 18+ Minors, do not interact

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were absentmindedly scrolling. On Instagram.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I'm coming home.” You repeat.

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

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

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

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

“Candy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Candy, love.”

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

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

Who is this man?

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

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

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

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

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

“Candy—” He starts.

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

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

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

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

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

“I reckon you saw the commercial.”

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

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

No. Not just anger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod.

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

“I’m better. I…”

“Tell me what you want.”

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

“Pick me up,” you say softly.

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

“Next? Counter? Bed? Shower?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smirks. “Always in my Calvin's.”

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

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

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

“Do you want—”

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

He stares at you, flabbergasted.

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

This is your boyfriend. Jeongguk. Your Jeongguk.

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

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

“Go,” you repeat.

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

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

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

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

And you close the door on him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jeongguk, baby,” you murmur fondly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do,” you admit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guk?” You ask, worried.

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

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

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

“Uhm… No,” you admit with a pout.

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

“I’m so sorry, bunny.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t oppose.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” you manage to say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright, Candy?”

You nod and take some large breaths.

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

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

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

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

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

You press your lips to his to distract him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still jealous, love?” he asks you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And yet, you love me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His muscles squeeze, and his breath catches.

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

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

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

“I’m gonna draw you.”

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

“Candy?” he calls, unsure.

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

“What— Where—?” He’s confused.

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

“Candy, for the love of—”

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

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

“Please,” he whines.

“Just a minute.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He tugs your underwear off harshly, almost angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I'm sure,” you comfort him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His expression is lazy and satisfied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I see the pictures in advance?”

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head. “Brat.”

And he kisses you. Just that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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citrusx0xo · 6 months ago

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I've been reading too much dirty shit and now all I crave is affection bear with me guys Not proofread!!

Ever so itty bitty trigger warning, angsty poetic fluff

To be loved by Suguru was to be loved by an artist. Loved so gently, like a sculptor etching his final details into your supple skin. Or like a glassmaker, soothing his hands over your body so softly it was like he thought you'd shatter at any moment.

To love Suguru was to be dragged through a twisted, gorgeous display of torture. You could feel each word drag along your esophagus with another jagged claw because no word seemed worthy for him, no word could convey any amount of pure devotion you could feel.

When he'd dip his head into the crook of your neck, hiding himself from anything that wasn't his lover, you swear you could feel yourself chip away. Every time his hands caressed your stomach in a hug, his chest slotting against your back like he was made solely for loving you. Your chest would cave in, crumbling into itself as you felt him hold you so tenderly. Suguru was a calm pond amidst your clashing waves, his oh-so-soft breath fanning along your rotting skin.

"You're trembling."

"I'm scared."

"What are you scared of?" a voice you've grown to be infatuated with mumbled into your bare shoulder.

Suguru had you in his arms, shifting his head slightly as his lips rested against your collarbone. You had one arm being used as his pillow, hand carding through his inky hair as you pressed your lips against his temple absentmindedly. You'd both found the best way to waste away the day being in bed, only wearing your matching pairs of boxers that you'd picked out together on impulse. The only light you had, was the light that managed to creep past the thick clouds that spilled rain droplets towards your window.

"I'm not sure." It was the truth, the only answer you could give. After a few silent moments of digging into your fuzzy mind, you found no reason to feel the way you did. Having Suguru's body entangled with yours so naturally, it had mellowed everything you felt. Lines of thought quickly dissipated in your mind, only able to bask in the glow of whatever this foreign feeling was. "Maybe you're not scared then."

"If not, then what?"

You peered at the ashtray that sat at your windowsill, a half-melted candle keeping it in place. You and Suguru had grown together, lived together. You knew each other, and it was no secret that your connection was the closest you'd both ever get to comfort, the closest you'd ever be to health.

"Maybe, we're just in love."

And there it was again, that sweet agony you craved, only ever able to be fulfilled by him. Like he was covering you in a silk blanket lined with poison, his adoring kisses slitting your skin.

"I like that answer..."

if you read this far im gonna give you a big fat kiss

Sorry, purely self-indulgent lol. Just wanted to write some fluff but angst is my spirit animal, disturb the comfortable and comfort the disturbed type shit yk

Look after yourselves!!! Drink water!! Eat food!!

#suguru #suguru x you #suguru x reader #geto x you #geto x reader #fluff #jjk fluff #geto oneshot #geto fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #self indulgence at its finest #angst #poetic #comfort

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disappearenceofsomeone · 2 months ago

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the small... the itty bitty.. the sad sniffles..

(hi guys!! needed a break to deal with something, but hopefully I can actually try a schedule for posting stuff soon :3 )

uhh I got designs + barely cohesive context right below:

I love these SILLIES!!! don't mind how empty Winnie's page is, I didn't know what to do

decided that giving them school uniforms to match the surrounding this took place in was a ok decision so I did that!!

also here's the rlly confusing context I made in the middle of the night whilst accidentally pulling an all nighter at the same time:

(I have 0 experience in writing anything in general, I was spouting whatever made sense in my head so if you think this is ooc for them, it probably and most likely is lmaoo. sorry in advance to everyone who was curious ehough to read whatever... this is considered..)

anyways, prologue takes place in an elementary school where Winnie just finished his day at school, it didn't go that well but y'know, there's 10 more things to worry Abt then that. He gets to the bus stop, knowing well he was gonna have to stay there for awhile and planned on making himself comfortable. Upon arriving, he hears sad sniffles from across the seats and boom, sad lil meow meow auggie appears!! Very concerned Winnie approaches the kid, proceeds to get a very hot headed response from him as auggie pushes him away (he isn't having any of it today + he was kinda a punk when he was little like damn!!!) Winnie clearly sees that the dude needs ATLEAST *some* company so he just, sits by him awkwardly. Augustine over here doesn't have a clue why he's still not going away but accepts it nonetheless, albeit in a very tsun tsun way I guess. Winnie takes this as a small talk starter and tries to engage with him, to no avail as auggie seems to have a very reserved manner when alone. After a few minutes of trying, he decides to just be straightforward and ask him what's up, to which Augustine replies with a 'none of your business, why do you want to know?' type of response. He just tells him that moping around wasn't gonna do him any good and since they both seem to be going home late anyway, might as well kill time. (on second thought, they sound very adult for 7-12 yr olds, what. I will come back to reread this dw) Augustine now knows Winnie doesn't mean any harm and decides why not, got nothing else to do. He proceeds to tell him regarding how others seem to only want to be around him whenever he acts a certain way (ie, very bubbly, friendly, etc) and thinks about whether or not people actually do like him for himself. It also makes him feel like if people actually knew how he was, not many would stay (like a 'yeah I want people to stay, but I want them to stay for who I actually am' type thing). Winnie tells him that he should be himself, regardless of what anybody else thinks otherwise. Additionally, Winnie thinks that if nobody's willing to stay after seeing the truth, it's their loss honestly, he thinks Augustine should care about people who would actually be there for him, not for who he's trying to be. Augustine is somewhat stunned by this, asking if he's been through this before, to which Winnie remarks with a similar situation happening back in his previous school (Winnie's friends didn't stay in touch and never contacted him ever since he moved). They pretty much notice atp how similar they were and decided to spend to the entire time waiting just chatting, turns out they got along very well (cue scenes of them yelling at each other playing games, cat scratching as they yell something dumb at the other while simultaneously talking about how cute the cats walking around were). Time passes and bam! Winnie's mom finally comes over to pick them up!!

"Hey! I know that lady! She's my mom's neighbour! :O"

"Oh, it's my mom-- How do you know my mom???"

"Uh, duh!! >:/ I just said that she's my mom's neighbour--- she's your mom!?!?"

(Cue them getting inside the car and getting bits about how Augustine and his mom met. Apparently, he and his mom visited to send off some gifts for her, when in actuality, it was to send off some medicine for Winnie, who was sick during this time. Of course they got some gifts but the medicine was important. And the gifts were too.)

As they got closer towards their houses, Winnie was planning to just go back inside the house immediately since he's got no plans going on and assumes that was it. Augustine thinks otherwise, so when they both got out of the car, he immediately blurts out his name and introduces himself. Winnie, realizing this entire time they haven't even said their names towards each other, also introduces himself in response.

They both seem to connect easily and since no one else was willing to, they will instead. With a promise to stay by each other's side no matter what, they both spent their entire childhood together. They were practically two peas in a pod, nobody ever saw them apart, even if they were in a group of people. They stood out by a lot since then, the very loud and obnoxious kid was hanging around with someone who could chill him out in an instant. The two were inseparable

#cold front swap au #swap au #cold front #augustine orlov #winnie bosko #again im so sorry to whoever reads the context it is actually kinda bad #not sure why i decided to do rhat homestly but oh well its out in the world now for people to look at #yippee for me

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smallpeniscollective · 10 months ago

Note

Sending this BG3 idea to a bunch of different blogs to see what they do with it: Tav uses edging and/or orgasm denial on Raphael to get him to give her the hammer without giving him the crown. (I hope you enjoy!)

I personally feel like he doesn’t really let other people control him sexually, he’s pretty much an established control freak (like even when he bottoms for haarlep, he’s still in control of the situation)

BUT!! this did inspire me to write this itty bitty blurb for u guys, in which raphael uses your attraction to him as means to get you to sign his contract ;)

Content: pov/2nd person, afab body parts, use of Tav in place of Y/N, some fondling

*~*~*

He stalked around you, stopping somewhere outside of your peripheral view. Your heart was beating out of your chest, thunder in your ears and sedative in your veins as you stood inhumanly still.

There was no doubt that he was aware of the effect he had on you; he picked up on your telltale signs of attraction the second you laid eyes on him on that bridge near the goblin camp. Your flushed cheeks, your unsteady breaths, the way your eyes never left him when he was in the presence of your group.

Being part devil required the ability to detect weakness in potential clients; it was his duty to notice the way your thighs clenched when he spoke. Truth be told, he would add a heavier hint of gravel to his tone when speaking with you. All to his benefit, of course. Since you had declined his first attempt to strike a deal when he originally offered to remove the tadpole, he had no choice but to play into your dreadfully mortal game of hopeless romanticism.

But undeniably, this game was certainly entertaining.

And now, you stood alone with a devil in quite the romantic scene that was the Devil's Den in the Sharess' Caress, trying so hard to not give in to his offer. It was almost cute the way you so obviously denied to yourself your attraction to him.

When he finally spoke again, you gasped at his closeness, that deliciously low voice rumbling in your ear. Goosebumps raised on the delicate skin of your neck, your head tilting in an automatic movement to create some semblance of space between his lips and your ear. "Perhaps it is more than just the Hammer that you desire from me, hmm?"

"I don't want anything from you," you replied. Your attempt to sound calm and collected was futile; you spoke breathlessly, lips remaining parted as your breathing became heavier.

"Even if you refuse to admit your desire, your body gives away your secret," he murmured, letting his nose brush against the highly sensitive skin behind your ear in a calculated move to further crack your already-fragmented sense of self-control. He smirked to himself when he received his desired reaction, the faint scent of arousal blossoming from your frail, easily-overpowered human body.

"I—"

His hands on your body interrupt your train of thought, landing on your clothed waist with a teasingly gentle caress. How he wished he was in his true cambion form, to loom over you and rake his claws across your malleable skin, of which no doubt would leave his marks on you. The thought of marking you as his own brought out something possessive in him, something that started to blur the line between this carefully crafted game and his own personal desire.

Yet, his eyes remained on his well-deserved prize. He must have you contracted to give him the Crown. He must.

"Make the deal, sweet pet. And in return, you will have the Oprhic Hammer and what we both know you desire most." He spoke into the skin of your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His hands, large and oh-so-warm hands, crept underneath the layer of your shirt, setting your nerves ablaze wherever his skin met yours.

You had so bravely battled against unimaginable foes, yet when it came to desire, your strong will was mere putty in his devilish hands.

As soon as his ascending touch brushed against the underside of your breasts, your body acted of its own volition, arching into his touch, your back finally making contact with his broad chest. Heat radiated from him, even through his clothes, even in his human façade, and the feel of it was addicting.

The way you shivered against him had his own mind beginning to reel, filling with plans upon plans on how he'd make you squirm so desperately beneath him. But with a forceful squint of his eyes, he banished those thoughts. The only thing that mattered to him now was the deal.

"Just sign the contract," he almost-whispered before laying his open mouth against your neck, gently swiping his hot tongue on your soft skin. As his mouth made work of your neck, one of his hands fully cupped your breast and swiped a thumb over your stiffened nipple, eliciting a breathy whimper from you.

"R-Raphael..."

His tool to obtain his power, his little mouse, whimpering his name so tenderly burned into his mind, almost overpowering his need for control, almost making him lose control of himself. Giving in just a little, his other hand dropped to the waistband of your trousers, tracing patterns in the heated skin above the place you craved being touched the most while the rest of his arm held you tighter against his chest.

You began to piece together his budding mutual desire for you as well when you felt a clothed growing erection against your backside.

Perhaps there was a way to get what you needed and what you wanted without signing away your soul.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael the cambion #raphael x tav #raphael x reader

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tinytennisskirt · 3 months ago

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i really really really need more mark rebellato patrick and art head canons like i haven’t been able to stop thinking about the ears scenario pls!!! something about their rooms, how they became friends, the whole shebang please and thank you

(sorry it just makes me SOB)

Mark Rebellato Era Headcanons: Misc and Out of Order

First off, the hc that started this-

little Art worried about the boys at school making fun of his ears, his mom walking him into his room at Mark Rebellato tennis academy, her hand on his back, pointing at Patrick saying, “look at that boy’s ears. just like yours. you have nothing to worry about.”

Art's mom packs him a ton of candy every year and Art swears to her he eats it over the course of a month or two, but the truth is he and Patrick usually sit down and eat it all in one go, the first night back to school. It's ritual.

Patrick has gotten into a fight three times over Art-related incidents. Someone makes fun of his swing more than once? Someone says some shit about the shape of his head or his ears? Anyone decides to say anything negative about his best friend?He's not just going to let them talk like that about him in any shape or form. He's used his racket, his fist, his elbows, he has gotten detention over it, but it's always been worth it.

They are partners for every project. Every single project. And if they aren't? Best believe they go behind the teacher's back and switch out partners to be each other's. they're called on to present and they get up together every time without fail, to every teacher's dismay.

They also are every teacher's dismay. When the boys aren't in a class together or in the same tennis group, they do all they can in their power to fix that. Forget their dorm room, they had their parents pay to secure the fact they'd stay bunkmates. The poor teacher in the staffroom conversing with the other teachers being consoled by other teachers of the boy's past, saying, "Hopefully they've matured over the summer." But they're always a little rowdy. A little too talkative.

Art is fairly studious. He gets things done in time, he gets good grades. Patrick too, but Patrick swore off studying when he first got there. He'll review his notes, but he relies a lot on his memories and note-taking, which is why his grades are mediocre. But not bad.

The day after the Kat Zimmerman thing, Patrick holds it over him to get Art to do stupid things like call him 'sir'. It lasts only a day because Art reminds Patrick that he caught HIM doing the same thing first and soon Patrick is calling Art 'sir'.

When Patrick gets a little homesick, he never outwardly displays it. It happens, it's normal. Art can tell, but never says anything about it. When he knows Patrick is getting that way- he puts on some 80s rock CD that Patrick really likes- it reminds him of the stuff he heard growing up.

They are each other's ultimate wingman. School dance? Needing to ask someone to it? The other is setting things up like a mastermind. They pull strings, they do what they need to do behind the scenes and almost always, they end up with the date to the dance they wanted.

They fight over who can have what celebrity crush. They're watching a movie and an insanely hot woman pops up on screen, they both shout 'mine' over the other. It's happened a few times in movie theatres, nearly getting kicked out for both the yelling and the slight shoving that goes on afterward.

Little itty bitty Patrick Zweig who has a poster he wants to put up. He's not a super shy kid but he doesn't know Art yet. Itty bitty Art Donaldson with the very same poster, putting it up on the wall and it's their first real conversation. It's when they know they're going to be best friends. The poster gets moved from Art's side of the room to the middle after that. And the poster gets put in the same spot in the room every year until they graduate. The colour is faded, but it's still there. Technically it's Art's, but when they graduate Patrick is the one to take it. After everything that went down later in their life, Patrick still has it. It's in the glovebox of his car.

The boys put on trashy white girl music when they're hanging out alone in their room. Late 90s, early 2000s pop. Patrick will be playing some stupid video game and Art in his bed reading over some tennis book. They know all the words and it's completely of their own volition. They won't tell anyone about it and they keep it low enough that other rooms can't hear. It surprises Tashi later in life when Art is humming along to the songs she listened to when she was younger.

Their moms make them take back-to-school pictures every year. The first photo was taken at Christmas break when the boy's parents came to pick them up to find they'd become best friends and the tradition picks up from there. Their parents each have their own copies of the boys every year standing in the same position. Patrick with double thumbs up and a big grin and Art with one hand up like he's waving, a small smile on his face. The copies that the boys possess are drawn all over with devil horns and mustaches.

And speaking of that, Patrick for sure is the guy who doodles over almost everyone in the yearbook he dislikes. Pictures of jerks, he's got their faces all ugly and marked up and hot girls get a few hearts and some words written on it. When he wants to remember how a person actually looked, he just looks at Art's yearbook.

Art knowing Patrick likes boys too, but they never talk about it. Patrick is never into Art and Art never has it in his head that Patrick likes him- you know that awful thing that happens when you find out someone is a little gay and you start worrying they like you? They never have that. It's written off so easily, they both hardly ever think about it, but it's known.

They are so serious about board games never play monopoly with them in the time between class and lunch because they will get really loud about it.

Thinking maybe Patrick's parents divorce sometime around grade ten and yeah, he's a teenager and he's not really wanting to show emotion, but it's really hard. And Art, without centering Patrick out too much about it, really helps him through it. Listens to him without any judgment and they know that they are the only people in the world who can be vulnerable with each other and be completely understood. Without having to worry about their masculinities. They can tease each other all they want over petty little things of the sort, but in times like this they just listen and talk.

April Fool's day is a biggg day for them. Everyone at school is worried about what they might have in store when Patrick and Art are around. They first go all-out on each other. Shaving cream while the other is sleeping, air horn wake-ups. Rigged sinks that spray water. And on the outside, plastic wrap on the doors, party snaps under toilet seats, fake mice, fake snakes, fake money planted. It's a little bit of chaos, but it all gets done early enough to all be done by noon.

The boys talk like girls about their crushes. When Art has his first kiss, Patrick demands details. The taste of the girl's lip gloss, when, where, did they make out? Did he get to touch her boobs? Immature little questions.

#challengers #patrick zweig #art donaldson #tinytennisskirt #challengers headcanons #challengers 2024 #challengers hc

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crystalflygeo · 2 years ago

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Smut Alphabet ft Baizhu + fem!reader

cw/tags: mentions of various sexual acts, oral sex, praise kink, pet names, sensation play?? marking/biting, TEASING, itty bitty possessive/jealous behavior, I gave Baizhu a bunch of snake traits I'm sorry it's the monsterfucker in me //sighs.

notes: SOMETHING NON-ZHONGLI??? WOWOWOW Yes I simp Baizhu sue me, more will come hopefully. Lord this has been on the works since the other one it took SO LONG I just didn't know what to write vbhsdbjk. Again feel like I'm repeating myself 20 times hhhhhh also this man is v vanilla or at least it started like that but then it got progressively hornier and.... yeaaaahhhhh. Partially dedicated to @floraldresvi bc even tho she doesn't share some of these ideas she gave me quite a few and she is the cutest Baizhu simp so <3 ehe

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

Baizhu is quite clingy and loving in the aftermath, sometimes rubbing and massaging special scented oils along your skin while peppering kisses, to relax the muscles and prevent cramps.

Sometimes though, your activities also take quite the toll on him... in such occasions he’s left exhausted, he'll simply pull you into an embrace and stay curled up and close to you as you both come down from the high and relax together.

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

His hands. How could he practice medicine without them after all? The fact that he can pull such wonderful sounds and reactions out of you with them is just sublime. Even if they're a little bony with slender fingers, there is so much he can do with them.

As for his favorite part of your body: all your soft curves. Thighs, tummy, breasts, hips. Who cares if you got some scars, stretch marks or some "rolls"? it's only natural, you're healthy and your body is beautiful no matter what. He loves running his hands along your hips, rubbing a thumb at your thigh when sitting together, or resting his head in your lap/tummy as you play with his hair.

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

He’s very careful and considerate to always use protection, after all it is not only safer but more convenient at that. Either that or just release on his own stomach, then quickly get rid of it. He’s actually not that into it, the whole marking and dripping his seed on you. In fact, he feels it’s kind of degrading or disrespectful to you, convinced you’re too good to be dirtied like that. If you're giving him head and he does come on your face, expect a flurry of embarrassed apologies as he scrambles to clean you off.

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

He likes seeing you wear his clothes, seeing you doze off at his bed or just hang round his place. There’s a little feeling of belonging there, a little possessiveness. That you’re really his just as he is yours, that you two are together. It’s rather domestic but it warms his heart. When you rub your eyes first thing in the morning, still naked and sporting yesterday’s marks on your skin, when you step in the kitchen for some morning tea wearing only one of his larger robes… it makes him want to pull you close and never let you go.

He also quite likes to… bite…

But you’ll never hear that from him.

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

Truth be told... Baizhu has no real experience with this. He's tended to himself and had the occasional wet dreams and fantasies sure, but hands-on action... ehhh. If you're experienced, he'd love to let you take the reins for sure, and if you're both on the same boat, well... he'll gladly walk that path along with you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Baizhu likes propping you over any slightly elevated surface: countertop, desk, table... you name it. That way neither of you exerts themselves or is weighting on the other, and he quite enjoys having you on eye level like this, your silky legs surrounding him, your thighs at just the right height for him to rest his palms on them as you take off his glasses and he leans in for a kiss...

But oh, sometimes he also quite likes having you on top, seated on his lap rocking slowly with his hands on your hips, you own supported around his neck bringing you two impossibly closer, hot breaths and sweet moans mixing together.

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

He’s a tease, and often likes to poke fun or fluster you, but it’s all in good faith, last thing he’d want is to actually make you uncomfortable. He’s quite lighthearted, little smiles and breathless chuckles weaved in together with other sounds of pleasure. He means for you both to relax and enjoy the moment.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.)

If his gorgeous long hair or immaculate looks aren’t a clue already, yes, Baizhu takes very good care of his appearance. More often than not he wants to give off a sense of professionalism and good health, after all, as a doctor he’s got to set the example. His hands are rather soft and skin clean and shaven. Likewise, he simply keeps himself well trimmed down there. And yes, the drapes do match the curtains… (why would anyone ask or doubt that?)

I= Intimacy (How are they during the moment? Are they romantic?)

For him, this step of the relationship is certainly not to be taken lightly. When both of you finally decide to be intimate, he’ll make sure to treat you with the utmost care and love, focus on your movements, your voice, your reactions, kissing you tenderly. He is a passionate man, but that passion comes in slow waves, molten gazes, careful simmering touches. After all there’s no need to rush…

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

Baizhu doesn’t usually… indulge in things like this, already too worried with his mind thinking a million different things, body exhausted, always working, Changsheng always draped over him. The need to get off doesn’t linger and fester in him for too long. It’ll come, he’ll get slightly uncomfortable, then it'll leave. But in the lone relaxing moments he has, soaking in the bathtub, lying awake late at night in bed he can finally relieve some tension, thinking on your warm skin and wet kisses, letting out frail husky gasps and moans. And why should he be embarrassed? After all, it is a normal, natural and healthy thing.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

It’s hard to get him to admit it really, but he undoubtedly has a marking/biting kink. You see, the thing is, not only does he possess viperine eyes but also other certain traits as well: fangs, a forked tongue, an acute sense of smell, poor eyesight, bad regulation of body temperature, you name it! And if there’s something he likes it’s to sink those fangs on your skin like a mating mark. Don’t worry, he won’t actually hurt you of course, it’s just that marking you and leaving his claim feels immensely satisfying. He loves to admire them for days to come.

L= Location (Favorite places to do the do?)

Anywhere you two have a private quiet moment to yourselves, though nothing beats the intimacy of the bedroom. Particularly enjoys taking you apart at the pharmacy’s backroom, and if the situation arises when Changsheng and Qiqi are both busy he’ll pull you into his embrace for quite the ride. Slowly unraveling you on the bed by the candlelight, bending you over or perching you at the table, and even once he simply pressed and caged you against the wall and the rest was history…

M = Motivation (What turns them on? What gets them going?)

Your cute noises and reactions. To have you shivering under his touch, flushed red and whimpering, sporting his marks, telling him how good he’s making you feel, how much you love him. Please be vocal and praise him a little! There’s nothing he won’t do with a little begging from you. And he WILL make you beg, kissing your little clit ever so softly causing your hips to twitch, running his hands lightly over your breasts seeing the goosebumps rise and nipples pebble.

N = No (Anything they wouldn’t do?)

Baizhu doesn’t do well with degradation or harsh treatment, sure a quick desperate fuck here and there is doable, some spanking, but nothing really rough. Hard limits on anything inherently dangerous like knife play or choking, he simply wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt. He’s also really mindful and strict on things like proper preparation, hygiene, protection and aftercare. For as much as he likes to test limits and boundaries, he has the utmost respect and love for your body.

O= Oral (Do they like to give or receive? Are they skilled?)

Baizhu is all about the giving. He enjoys seeing you come apart on his skilled fingers and tongue, the sounds you make, the feeling of your soft thighs clamping on his hold. He takes his time, listening to the softest keens and moans that slip from your lips, taking in the pace of your heartbeat on his tongue to know exactly when to plunge the serpentine appendage inside you like he’s starved.

On the other hand, slick with precum before you even put your mouth to him, he is really sensitive and his pretty flushed cock will twitch wildly in your hand as you stroke him, tracing that small vein, lapping at the engorged head. As much as his head is spinning and low groans fall from his mouth, he’ll try very hard to maintain eye contact and keep track of your ministrations, the way your soft hands move and your lips stretch to accommodate him down to the hilt, cupping your cheek lovingly to wipe away a couple of tears, your eyelashes fluttering to meet his golden eyes.

P= Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Definitely a slow and sensual lover, Baizhu prefers taking you apart bit by bit with loving and deliberate strokes. His life is already quite restless and chaotic, so he wants to make this as sweet and delicate as he can. He takes his time with his hands tracing every mark on your skin, pinching a little at your tummy and thighs, and rubbing gentle circles on your hips.

Q= Quickie (Their opinions on quickies? How often?)

A rare occurrence to say the least, but with his hectic schedule it’s bound to happen once in a while. They’re nice enough, every moment spent with you in his arms is precious, it’s just that he doesn’t like how short they are. A quick fuck in the backroom of the pharmacy between breaks not only has its risks but he actually often ends up feeling more riled up. Returning to his work slightly more distracted and aroused much to Changsheng’s frustration. He’d rather have long drawn-out sessions with you, slowly building up the heat.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?)

For all his vanilla sweet love, if there’s anything he likes in life is trying new things, and that philosophy extends to the bedroom. Without a doubt he would agree to indulge in things that interest either of you, anything to bring you more pleasure after all. Communication is key and who knows, you might discover some new fun ways to enjoy time together. That said there's not much of a risk factor with him, Baizhu always plays pretty safe even when you're doing things in a bit of an impromptu manner.

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

His constitution is frail, that is no secret. Now, he’s genuinely a little self-conscious about it, afraid he’s not properly satisfying you or even upset and insulted if you coddle and fuss over him too much. Sometimes he’s tired, it’s late at night after a long day of seeing patients, he gives you lazy thrusts and quiet touches showing it’ll be a simple night, a settle down for the day. Usually, his body gives out after he comes once or twice, though if you still have one more round in you, well, he’ll gladly give you the reins for the rest of the night.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He definitely enjoys playing with your senses. A blindfold, a bit of bondage, the touch of a feather dragging along your skin, even some ice or hot wax from a scented candle, don’t worry, he’ll be very careful. It’s not so much that he’s kinky per se, he just loves to see you react. Arch your back and cry out. And there are definitely interesting concoctions out there, electro slime can be used to increase sensitivity, and a combination of flaming flower stamen extract with some oil can... well... he’ll let you discover that by yourself.

U= Unfair (How much do they like to tease?)

He is a tease through and through, both inside and outside of the bedroom. A silver-tongued devil he knows very well what words to use and when to obtain the reactions and effects he wants. Fond of inside jokes, bringing up things that will make you squeak while other are none the wiser. Whenever he gets a little jealous, you’ll notice he also gets touchier, placing a hand at your shoulder or hip or straight up giving you a peck or blurting some pet name.

You’ve lost count of how many times a night you’ll tell him to stop teasing. He just chuckles and apologizes but after a few minutes he’s back on the game.

V= Volume (Are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk?)

He will praise you and tease you non-stop, spouting compliments and whispering promises into your skin as he worships your body. If you manage to catch him off guard and turn the tables on him, he actually lets out the most wonderful noises. So endearing in their restraint with quiet hisses and whimpers, and so surprising in their rawness with deep groans and occasional growl.

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

Although he can identify some scents and physiological reactions better than most, Changsheng is the real menace. A few flicks of her tongue and she’ll know for sure if either of you are… ehem… wanting. She’ll tease, she may even be a little passive aggressive but she’s respectful and considerate enough to slither off somewhere and give you both (or just him) some “alone time”. She might not always keep her mouth shut to Gui however.

X= X-ray (What’s going on down there?)

Baizhu’s size is nothing to sneeze at no matter how much he scoffs (blushing a little) and calmly mentions he’s statistically rather average. The thing is this man is a grower. Once hard his cock is rather long but not all slender, with a curve upwards and a few visible veins that are even more sensitive than he already is. You love to see him twitch after every kitten lick, rub or puff of hot air, and the tip takes on that pretty, purplish hue when he's really really needy. Although he makes it out to be not a big deal, he can't help the smugness that fills his head when he lowers you down on him that first time and sees the way you gasp and flinch as you try to adjust.

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

Average, if a little low technically? It’s not so much he craves the sex in itself but rather that intimacy, that connection. For him making love is just as much about the… well, love. He doesn’t just chase pleasure but he loves to see you come apart and have you drag him along. Never once has he thought he'd have such deep, pure love as the kind he has with you, so having you by his side, in his arms, under him, or sleeping peacefully curled up to his chest, completely at ease and comfortable in his presence, is a gift that he never takes for granted.

Z= Zzz (How quickly do they fall asleep?)

He’s a little insomniac, pulling few frequent all-nighters to work or rolling over restlessly under the sheets. Sex, however, is one of the few things able to wear him out well enough to fall asleep easily, especially if you’ve gone for a few rounds. Occasionally, he still won’t be able to fall asleep afterwards, but in most cases the warmth of your body will be enough to lull him into an at least somewhat restful state for a few hours.

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eaudecrow · 6 months ago

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Well, I promised context to anyone who begged sweetly, and that’s sweet though for me. (I say as if I haven’t been dying to rant about them for weeks.)

The short story: The Target, aka Din, is the assassination target of Father Kilter’s adopted revenant kid, Pigeon. If Din dies, both they and Pidge will rot in an existence worse than hell, as the unjust death and necromancy magic fuses their souls together in eternal agony. Kilter stays in contact with Din via Sending and Dream spells to keep the two apart (and manages to steal their heart by being wet and pathetic and teaching them how to care).

The full story (buckle the fuckle up):

So. The Target. They have what we’ll call a… justified god complex. As the self-appointed harbinger of truth, they run around exposing secrets and toppling corrupt governments for the betterment of the world. Unfortunately, this makes them public enemy number one. So what did they do to keep themself safe?

Trade away their face, of course.

The Target bargained with Truth itself. They would give it their long-lived service, in exchange for the power to mete out justice and a face that cannot be remembered. The moment you look away, you forget it.

Now their enemies have a new problem to contend with. How do you kill someone who can’t be found or even identified? The answer comes in the form of a revenant: a being so hellbent on killing one person, it always knows their target’s position, regardless of what magic is used to hide them. And this target is so important to eliminate that a necromancy cult artificially manufactures one to go after them.

Enter Pidge.

For a while, the only thing Father Kilter could do when the Target got too close was hold Pigeon as they scratched and stabbed and clawed, trying to bring about their own end as well as some random stranger’s. He had no idea who the target was, no way to contact them and keep them far, far away from his kid, no way to keep them safe—so he jumped at the chance to spy on them when they happened to pass within viewing distance.

One poorly-timed hunting snare later, and Kilter was left hanging upside down, before their horse, at their mercy.

Luckily they seemed inclined to have mercy. Despite Kilter’s terrible attempts at lying and generally suspicious nervous energy, their curiosity was piqued. They let him down. They joined him for some wine, even, introducing themself as “Din”. The two had a chat that started with each trying to subtly pick the other apart, and ended with Kilter completely losing that battle—so desperate for a semblance of help and genuine connection, that he spilled his backstory and his secrets to this literally faceless stranger. All they had to do was touch his knee and say “you aren’t alone” and he was FINISHED. In the end, he had no choice but to trust that they had good intentions and the means with which to act upon them.

That’s where things are at in the canon campaign. Outside of that, @couchtaro and I have been going FERAL over future things such as:

Kilter finally being able to touch someone bare-handed in their shared Dreamscape

Them providing Kilter a place to sleep without being haunted by Pestilence’s manipulative nightmares, and it somehow devolving into cuddles

To get around the face enchantment, Kilter reading the arch of their nose and brow and lips like braille, memorizing the shape of their scar so that he can recognize them by touch

The Target’s myriad 14-foot thick, adamantium emotional barriers getting blasted to itty bitty pieces by Kilter fixing their blood-loss-induced hypothermia with his own body heat

They’re so suspicious of each other right now. Little do they know they’re in for a rollercoaster of learning what it means to love, and by proxy what it means to live. Thanks for asking @booksandberries!

#d&d #dnd #dungeons & dragons #Ironsworn #ocs #and now you all know why their name is #din mctarget #father kilter #pigeon #pidge #dead on revival #corvid crows #I’m normal.

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onesacrificiallamb · 8 months ago

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Hiii heyyyy hiiii hiii I’m finally throwing my outrageously large hat into the ringer of shadow vanilla possession hiii. He’s been in my pocket but I feel like I really need to talk about him before the funny people phase goes out of style so. Soooo.

Welcome to True Knowledge / Melty Dough au!

Be nice about the name I’m not a namer

Sooo. Basic premise: ever since the tree issues settled down, pure vanilla and Posse ran back home to settle down and make sure nothing happened, and that everything was safe. If you can guess: pure vanilla gets watched by shadow milk through the staff. This plays in with my headcannon that the staff can already speak to pure vanilla, so that will be in part here hhaha

Shadow is very, very weak. He barely has a voice or an eye to watch or to speak from. So, what does he do? Do what he did first of all. His main goal is to poke the back of vanillas mind so that vanilla falls into evil like he did. This starts with small pokes, small itty bitty things. Just the smallest tinge to lie more, hold more secrets, learn more things than he knew previously. It grows and snowballs, continuously, until something happens.

Vanilla starts to unlock more of his soul jam. While this hurts shadow in turn, he’s losing his grip on his side of the jam, he also takes it as an opportunity. If vanilla takes more, he can slip in and take him over fully. While he unlock more of the soul jam, his jam starts to /burn itself inside out/. That’s a /lot/ of power. And he was only built for one half of the soul jam, not the entire aspect of knowledge. Just truth.

They struggle for a while, before shadow ultimately grabs hold of the entirety of him as he melts further and further, taking his body as his own and causing general mayhem for a while. But vanilla’s soul is stuck in the background, watching, horrified of everything shadow is doing. He’s still melting in the back of their mind, but he repurposes the melting. He angles it at shadow, taking his ability to cope and swapping them both. This results in Spoiled Milk.

Vanilla manages to take hold of his own body, still drippy and melty himself but learning and working with his body and parts taken from shadow to change and adapt to hold it all.

Therefore, taking shadow’s original location as The Holder Of Knowledge. There’s more but also I am not a good writer HAHA

#art #my art #chrome rambles #shadow milk fanart #shadow milk crk #shadow milk #shadow milk cookie #pure vanilla #pure vanilla cookie #pure vanilla crk #au #shadow milk au

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allisluv · 5 months ago

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hihi! i was wondering if you could maybe take any eddie roundtree requests? like a a fluff and/or smu alphabet? there’s such little content out there for him and it’s killing me bc i’m so fixated on him 😭😭

thank you for your request anon! i’m gonna make a start on the sfw alphabet asap <3

cw: nsfw, fem!reader, not proofread but what’s new

A = aftercare (what they're like after sex):

eddie is spent after sex. he'll wash you down with a warm cloth and thats about as far as he goes. but in saying that, he traces patterns into the skin of your back and whispers sweet nothings until you both doze off.

B= body part (favourite body part of theirs and thei partners):

eddie plays the guitar so i think it's only natural that his favourite body part is his hands. he likes that he has you falling apart on his fingers in a matter of seconds.

eddie is a boob man. whether they're itty bitty or the size of watermelons, he doesnt care. he's constantly squeezing and leaving hickeys there.

C = anything to do with cum:

eddie likes to coat your chest with thick, hot ropes of his cum.

D = dirty secret:

sex is very much about control for eddie. he loves being dominant (which i think stems from how little control he has in the band but that's another issue for another day) and he loves seeing your squirm and beg underneath him.

E = (experience how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?):

i know eddie acts like a playboy but i honestly think he has his first time pretty late for his age (which is not a bad thing at all!). he fumbles his way through it the first time but your pleasure is always his number one priority, even if he doesn't know what hes doing. he's a quick learner, though. that's all i'm gonna say!

F= favourite position:

eddie likes when you ride him because he has a perfect view of your tits bouncing. he's not picky though— so long as you're close, he doesn't care.

G= goofy (are they more serious or humourous?):

eddie is a sucker for giggly sex and he will do anything he can to make you laugh, even if at times it's at his own expense.

H= hair (how well groomed are they? do the curtains match the drapes?):

eddie's not a fan of shaving down there. call it the rockband lifestyle but he just doesn't strike me as someone who takes time out of his day to do it. he trims it once a month to keep it tamed but that's about it.

I= intimacy (how are they during the moment? romantic aspects):

eddie likes when sex is romantic. on your anniversery or your birthday, he goes all out with rose petals and champagne bottles. he worships you on a daily basis and that extends into the bedroom too.

J= jackoff (masturbation headcanon):

eddie prefers your hald over his own and thats the god honest truth— that’s one of the perks of you coming on tour with him.

K = kinks (one or more of their kinks):

eddie has a breeding kink and no i will not be elaborating. it just makes sense. i think he likes edging you and overstimulation, too, but he's just too soft-hearted to deny you for that long. he likes when you pull on his curls as well.

L= location (where do they like to have sex?):

eddie likes the risk of being caught, so he loves fucking you on the tour bus with the door unlocked and in an empty studio.

M = motivation (what turns them on?):

this is a bit specific but if you're a singer, he finds it super hot how you grip the mic stand between your hands. he can't help but hike your skirt up backstage and shove his tongue down your throat.

N= no (things he won't do):

its cliche but eddie won't do anfthing that hurts you. its just a major turn off for him.

O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill etc):

i think eddie has a preference for receiving but he loves loves loves giving as well!! he knows what to do with his tongue too if you know what i mean

P = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc):

eddie prefers drawing your orgasm out but if he's had a rough or stressful day in work (otherwise known as billy getting on every single one of his nerves) then he'll fuck you into the mattress like it's the last time he's ever going to get to touch you.

Q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often etc):

eddie loves quickies. he'll pull your skirt up to your hips and fuck you in an empty closet just to see how quickly he can make you cum. he tries not to make them a regular occurrence but they do happen a couple of times a month.

R = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks?):

eddie's pretty much open to trying anything within both yours and his boundaries. he's an exhibitionist so he's known for taking risks that could get you caught in the act.

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

eddie can go for hours without getting tired. this man is made out of steel when it comes to sex and he can last for just as long.

T = toys (do they use toys? on a partner or on themselves?):

eddie's pretty old school when it comes to toys. he prefers doing everything himself and knowing that he's the one who is making you feel good. he's not opposed to trying new things, though, and i think he'd like it more than he lets on.

U = unfair (how much they like to tease):

eddie loves whispering dirty things in your ear right before you're about to go on stage just because he knows your panties will be sopping wet by the time you're finished your set list. he'll always give you what you want by the end of the night though.

V = volume (how loud are they? what kind of sounds do they make?):

eddie groans and grunts when he's fucking you. he's shameless when it comes to talking you through your orgasm too.

W = wild card (a random headcanon):

he sometimes uses his belt to tie your hands to the headboard

X = x-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes):

i'd say he's around five inches but he makes up for it in girth

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

eddie's like a fucking animal when it comes to sex. he could take you a couple times a day and still be hard.

Z = zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep?):

because eddie can last so long, he's typically exhausted after sex. he washes you down and makes sure you're comfortable before the two of you cuddle and fall asleep to a movie playing in the background

#grace talks🐚🌷#eddie roundtree #djats x you #djats #daisy jones and the six #eddie loving #eddie roundtree x reader #smut #alphabet

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kasdan · 10 months ago

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birthday hcs 🎂

it may or may not be my birthday today so i decided to write some headcanons on how the characters would celebrate with you<3 (saying i'm 20 now is wack)

pairings: loki x gn!reader, frank castle x gn!reader, carol danvers x gn!reader

warnings: fluffffff, very slight itty bitty suggestive themes if you squint and tilt your head, not proofread

marvel masterlist

𝑳𝒐𝒌𝒊

doesn't really see birthdays as being that special considering how old he is and how many he's had, but will make an effort for yours since learning traditions are different on midgard

struggles with being forced to share you on the day where he just wants to lock you in your bedroom all day and have you to himself

plans a party for you anyway, wanting you to feel special on your day

will plan an extravagant outfit for you and leave it on your bed for you to put on before the party

the outfit is green obviously because he wouldn't want you in any other color

he's only a tad bit possessive it's fine

you two walk into the party arm in arm looking like a perfect couple

finds himself smiling slightly when he sees you having a good time

doesn't leave your side for the whole night and periodically checks up on you to make sure you're enjoying yourself

gets you the most gifts out of everyone, and makes a slight competition on him getting you the most, and best, of the gifts you receive at the party

you figure out what he's doing early on and you just smile up at him kissing his cheek in content, causing him to hold you closer to him as you open the rest of the gifts

ends up not completely minding that he's sharing you with this many people at the end when he sees how happy you are, and just wants to see you happy

but he does get excited when you ask to leave the party finally, done with all the partying for the night

wraps himself around you and doesn't let go until late into the next morning

𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝑪𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒆

would prefer to just spend the day in with you rather than do anything extravagant

however, if you want to go out for it, he wouldn't stop you and would just want to support you in the best way he could

cooks all meals for you the entire day, including any snacks you might want, and will go out to get any missing ingredients that he needs

he knows if you're holding back on anything that you want that day and will force the truth out of you of what you want

will gladly just lay in bed all day with you if that's what you want

barely lets you get up to use the bathroom

all in all just wants to pamper you the entire day

will become your bitch for the day and will do whatever you want without asking twice

you want ice cream? he'll be out the door before you get all the words out and back 10 minutes later with 5 different pints for you to choose from

your feet hurt? he's picking you up and having you ride around the apartment on his back the entire day

no matter how much you try to get off and insist that you can get to the kitchen on your own feet, he's ignoring you and placing you on the counter before asking what you wanted from the kitchen so he could get it for you

just wants you to have the best day possible because he loves you<3

𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒍 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔

gets up early in order to make you breakfast and will carry it into the room when you wake up so you can eat it in bed

plans out the whole day for you so you can have the best time

puts together a surprise party for you with the help of your friends and kamala because once she knows there's a surprise party in place she has to help

takes you out to lunch and then tells you that she planned a dinner for tonight so you should both look for a new outfit for you to wear, even though you're really just picking out an outfit to wear at the surprise party

you both end up getting off track and trying on random outfits that don't go together in the slightest and making your own fashion show

eventually you get an outfit and move to the register to pay after being threatened to get kicked out of the store if you don't pay for something

doesn't even give you a chance to get your card out to pay, she's already handing over her card to the cashier glancing your way with a grin before you could even move to reach for yours

struggles to come up with more things to do while the party is still being set up, so she insists on a walk in the park to give more time for everyone to set everything up

finally gets the text that everything's ready and pushes you into the park bathroom to get dressed

makes an excuse that she forgot something at home so you have to go back first before heading to dinner

convinces you to go in with her even though you're sure the thing she's getting shouldn't take more than a couple minutes to get

you understand why she wanted you to go with her when you walk in the doorway and suddenly the lights turn on and there are a bunch of people in the room screaming surprise

brings in the cake that she made earlier in the week with the help from monica because she was failing miserably

overall, she's just happy that she was able to give you a day that you can be happy about

buy me a coffee ♡

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hannahhook7744 · 3 months ago

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Gigi Gothel hc please ?

Her full name is Magnolia Marguerite Gothel, but since Ginny and her brothers couldn't pronounce her name correctly when they were little she's gone by 'Gigi' for as long as she could remember.

Like the ditched draft of d2 says in this post, she is fourteen years old by d2.

Her birthday is October 10th and she was born in the middle of year 7.

Gigi is nearsighted.

She has magic but it is dormant until she gets off the isle.

She has a crush on Cailee Beckett. Her cousin, Amara Tremaine (who is fifteen years old in d2)’s friend who works at Curl Up & Dye.

Gigi has ‘volunteered’ to work at Curl up & Dye because of this because she likes spending time with Amara as well as Cailee and it's hard for the two of them to find free time between Lady Tremaine, Cutler Beckett, and Mother Gothel’s meddling.

She is the daughter of ‘Judge’ Claude Frollo and ‘Mother’ Esther Eloise Dame Gothel.

She has seven siblings in my main descendants universe, nine siblings in my Hannah Hook verse, and… well, it's complicated in the Invisible Truth Universe.

Her parental siblings are named: Cesare Bartholomew Colmille Frollo, Cornel Thomas Howard Frollo, Cyriacus Ignatius Vladimir Frollo, and Claudine Esther-Mary Frollo. There's also Eduardo Frollo, but he only exists in the Hannah Hook verse.

Her maternal siblings are named: Ginevra 'Ginny' Flower Madrigal, Mason Primethorn Gothel, and Glendale ‘Glenn’ Hazel Gothel. She also has a fraternal twin named Phoebe ‘Peachy’ Gothel in the Hannah Hook verse.

She has several parental cousins: Jehan Frollo's daughter—Jeanette Frollo–, Veil Frollo and Jack Heart’s three children—Valor Frollo-Hearts, Riddle Rosehearts, and Rollo Flamme— as well as The Tremaines. Because surprise, Lady Tremaine and Frollo are siblings (not that either of them like to admit it).

Gigi loves unicorns and flowers, though she keeps them away from Ginny since Ginny hates flowers and is allergic.

She appeared a lot in her Mother's show ‘Skin Deep With Mother Gothel’ and her best class was Selfishness 101 (the one her mother taught).

She originally went to Madam Mim’s School of Magic but because Madam Mim and Mother Gothel had a little spat, causing her to get kicked out.

Out of all her siblings, she gets along with her mother probably the best (mostly because she's a sweetheart) but that's not really saying much.

Gigi is short and slender with shoulder length black hair and big brown eyes that are almost always hidden behind round framed glasses.

She loves astronomy (like Glenn), Cryptozoology, cheesemaking, scrumping, true crime, and ghost hunting. She's also always wanted to go to the spa but hasn't gotten the chance yet.

She uses the same elixir Evie does to prevent her hair from getting frizzy.

Gigi is a part of the following clubs: Orchestra, Sea Ponies Club, ‘Speaking with Trolls’ Club, and the ‘Wicked Beauties’ club (though she's not very popular in the last one).

Her favorite game at Mr. Facilier’s Arcade is ‘Knock 'N Down, Win A Crown’.

She loves the Bad Apples, partially because she likes their music, partially because her sister's in the band, and partially because she had an itty-bitty crush on Diego when she was younger (which her siblings will never let her live down).

Her favorite candy (not that she's tired many) is Gummi snakes (she only had them once and is dying to try them again).

She can actually read the menu at the slop shop (she likes learning languages, okay?).

One time in P.E, when they were playing ‘Doom Ball’, she broke her nose. Another time, when they were playing ‘Foul Ball’, she got a concussion. Despite this, she still loves both games very much.

No one showed up to her Super Sinister Thirteen (her thirteen birthday party). At least until her brothers (Mason and Glenn, who are apart of the lost Revenge crew) went and told Uma who gathered up the rest of the crew. After that, a strange amount of people who totally weren't threatened into going showed up with gifts.

One of her best friends is the wicked witch and scarecrow's daughter, Elizabeth 'lizard' West; she's 12.

Gigi watches tv whenever she can because even though the villain channel ‘Evil Isle’ no longer exists it helps her escape from reality.

She used to write letters to Cassandra and Rapunzel when she was little, but of course she never received a response.

The Tremaines get their supply of ‘Murky Maggie's Soap Suds for the Anti-Socialite’ from her because Maggie Mim refuses to work with them because of something Dorothy did (She has no idea what she did).

She also supplies centipedes, worms, and other bugs to local businesses (she, like Mason, is really into nature and bugs).

One time, during a food fight, she hit Frollo and Mal with a snake egg and it exploded everywhere and stunk up the restaurant. She's never feared for her life more (Mal thought it was funny afterwards. Frollo did not).

She eventually gets her own Royallr and Auratube accounts.

When she grows up, she wants to be a famous actor, model, and cosmetologist.

Her top three Auradon shows are: Get Down With The Ballgown, Real Princesses Of Charmingsville, and The Young And The Crownless.

Her favorite princess on the Real Princesses of Charmingsville is Princess Pema because she reminds her of herself.

She is subscribed to 'Pirate Word of the Day' so she can keep up with what her brothers are saying.

Gigi is terrified of clowns and usually avoids Hermie Bing and the area in which the Bing Circus is located because of this.

She has a dagger collection as well as a Newspaper and Magazine collection.

It doesn't matter what newspaper and magazine. She's read Royal Digest, Vanity Fairy, Good Castlekeeping, Aladdin’s Bazaar, Ella, National Aristocratic, Sidekick Living, Mirror Mirror, Hero’s Health, Friends and Foes, Wicked Weekly, & Better Spells and Potions. Every issue she can get her hands on.

Same goes for the Newspapers.

She also has… a collection of random Auradon stuff. She loves Auradon music, postcards, etc.

Gigi also has a concerning amount of flyers and newspapers from Auradon Prep, and other Auradon schools.

Her siblings jokingly call her a hoarder.

(Look she just really really really wants to go to Auradon and she and Dizzy have stayed up for nights talking about it. Dragging the rest of the Tremaines, Gothels, Celia, and the smee twins with them).

She doesn't know if Frollo knows she's his daughter but she doesn't want to find out and she's not gonna be the one to bring it up because that man is terrifying.

Gigi, while appearing unassuming, is actually pretty crafty and could survive on her own if needed. She just doesn't want to.

She knows that on some level, Ginny resents her and the twins because she had to basically raise them, so she does her best to stay out of Ginny's hair even though she loves her sister a lot.

She calls Ginny ‘Sissy’ occasionally. As a nickname, not an insult.

She and Ginny's boyfriend, Clay, get along pretty well and she's friends with his younger brothers, Cash and Wilson.

She does most of the cooking, cleaning, and chores for the household.

Her favorite teacher is Yen Sid and her least favorite is Gaston, followed closely by her mother.

Gigi has skipped school exactly once in her life because the one time she did she got caught by Dr. Facilier (she was seven and went to his arcade). She decided then that her luck is horrible and scraping gum out from under desks and tables is not worth the risk of cutting class.

She hates the color yellow.

She can play the E-flat clarinet and the cello.

Her favorite food is Hazelnut & Parsnip Soup.

Her favorite restaurant on the isle is Hades Souvlaki: It's Under This World.

Her favorite shop is Hook's Clock and Curiousity shop.

Gigi Gothel is banned from the Queen of Hearts Salon. She knows what she did.

On a side note, she swears the Queen of Hearts hates her for no reason and is failing her in her class on purpose.

One time, Zevon made her cry and not only did he get beat up by her brothers but he got the cold shoulder from his brother (Lil Yaz did not hear the end of that from Ginny until the little brat apologized and it was the only time he had an actual shouting match with his little brother).

Now Zevon is terrified of even looking at her wrong.

She also somehow befriended the only one of Mad Maddy's siblings, Murky Maggie, who Maddy is on good terms with. Nobody knows how (she's also good friends with their younger aunt, Avalon Mim-Knightley).

Her favorite Bad Apple song is ‘We're The Brunos’, followed closely by “Santa Hates Isle Kids’.

She hates their song ‘Daddy (Mommy) Didn’t Love Me’.

She can't listen to the songs ‘Saint Cyriacus’, ‘Not A Perfect Man, But A Good One’, and ‘Love is Love’—the ones Claudine wrote about their dead brothers Gigi never got to meet, because they make her sad and angry.

She ends up working with both Dizzy Tremaine and Evie’s 4 Hearts.

Gigi also dabbles in writing. She runs the two isle magazines ‘Belladona’ and ‘Where The Sun Don't Shine’.

She has a minor Iron allergy.

Ginny made the mistake of bringing Gigi with her to Mal’s Hellraiser party and well… no one told Gigi what toadshots were. Needless to say, she was very sick in the days following.

To make up for, Ginny stole one of Maleficent's cloaks that she thought Gigi would like when people were ransacking Maleficent's house after d1.

She's claustrophobic and, after seeing Clay near drowned after the Hellraiser party, is terrified of drowning.

Her favorite hero is Ariel because she relates the most to her.

Gigi is secretly afraid that Rapunzel’s family and the rest of the heroes/reformed villains from her mother's story won't like her.

Also she'd love Jordan's Auratube channel and the Auradon Bedtime Podcast if she had access to them.

Gigi has always wanted a pet but her mother would never allow her one. She also knows more about her family than she wants to.

Works at Mother Gothel's Healing Emporium somewhat against her will.

Also when she was little (talking a literal toddler) she accidentally killed something and her mother will not.shut.up.about.it. Always using it to brag about how her children are the most beautiful and evil as if the event she's talking about isn't one of the most traumatizing things that's ever happened to Gigi.

Mother Gothel is that mom who tells her ‘friends’ about the most embarrassing, humiliating things she somehow knows about her kids (they stopped telling her things about them very early on because of this habit of hers and they don't know how she keeps finding out information like that about them).

She has tried and failed to escape the isle several times since she was a kid but luckily, no one's ever seen her epic fails.

She somehow always manages to sneak up on people without even trying (she's a very quiet walker).

She has a stuffed unicorn named ‘Punzie’ that the twins gave her when they were little.

Oh and she still can't spell her own name.

Her favorite poison is Digitalis. Sometimes her siblings catch her staring a little too long at it and get concerned. Usually happens when Gothel or Frollo have been meaner than usual to her siblings.

She has a heart condition, like Chloe Charming does (in my au).

She gets detention her first day at Auradon Prep (and cries). Her older siblings' have never been prouder.

#descendants #disney descendants #melissa de la cruz #disney #wicked world #descendants au #disney descendants au #gigi gothel #gigi daughter of mother gothel #deleted characters #deleted character from a draft of a script #headcanons #semi-canonical ocs #descendants original characters (kinda)#ginny gothel #etc

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